Hollow Crown ↬ Daenerys Targaryen

17

Percy stands stiff among the Lords and Ladies of the North, perched by Daenerys's side at the head table. His eyes move over each and every face, all of which stare at both him and the dragon queen with distrust clear in their gazes.

To his left, Tyrion sits quietly with his head held high, not nearly as bothered with the stares as his nephew. Though, Percy knows that's most likely because he's used to them by now, having recieved such looks all his life. One can only imagine how little the northern glares are compared to Twin Lannister's.

On the other side of Daenerys, Jon sits just as, if not stiffer than the Lannister. While the north is distrustful, they are just as vengeful when it comes to what they perceive as betrayal. It gives Percy a silent satisfaction knowing that the bastard is just as criticized as him for no reason, but it also makes him feel bad for the man, knowing that he must feel like he's done his family a dishonor even though he's saving them.

We'll see how they feel once they realize that.

"As soon as we heard about the wall, we called all of our banners to Winterfell." Sansa's voice rings through the hall, bringing most of the attention to herself as she stands tall. "Hopefully, we are not too late already. Lord Umber, when can we expect your people to arrive?"

A young boy, not even looking as if he's past the age of ten, pokes his head out quickly upon hearing his family name and title. Percy gives him an odd look, turning to Sansa with a raised eyebrow as if to say, 'a child?'. Said girl's lips twitch faintly, but she only rolls her eyes faintly before turning back.

"We need more horses and wagons." The boy says with a shaky voice, shaking faintly as he stares up at the older, more powerful people. "If it p-pleases, my lady. And... my Lords. And... m-my Queen."

"We'll spare as many as possible." Sanda nods her head with a small smile of reassurance. The boy remains frozen. "Hurry back to Last Hearth and bring your people here."

Percy smirks small in amusement, staring at the boy who gulps fearfully while bowing in respect. In an attempt to ease his growing nervousness, he winks at the young Lord, only to receive a wide eyed choke in return, which makes him hold back laughter. Most of the occupants of the room are watching the interaction, some with faint smiles and small chuckles, others with narrowed eyes and suspicious glances.

Daenerys nudges him slightly when she notices the looks, reigning in her own amusement to give him a glance. It's clear she tries to mirror seriousness and scolding, but her eyes are what betray her. When she's amused or happy, he's noticed at the time he's been this close to her, that the violet of her irises seem to grow lighter, and darker when she's angry or lustful. Both switches are equally entrancing, in his opinion, which is slightly biased.

"We should send ravens to the Night's Watch as well." Jon says while looking toward a guard from the Veil. "There's no point in manning the castles now, I suppose."

"At once, Your Grace."

Multiple people, including Jon and Percy, open their mouths to correct him, but they're beaten to it. "Your Grace." A young lady, whom Percy recalls from brief conversation as Lyanna Mormont, speaks up with a blank tone, staring right into the former king in the north. "But you're not, are you. No, you left Winterfell a King and came back a...well, I'm not quite sure what you are now. A Lord? Nothing at all-"

Percy's eyebrows raise to the top of his forehead upon hearing her words. Both Tyrion and Daenerys are also clearly shocked at her outright insult to the former King, judging by their wide eyed looks and still postures. Jon though, only looks mildly surprised and more offended than anything, which somehow makes him look even more somber than usual. "It's not important."