They say death will eventually come for us all. That all the world will be covered in darkness, and any that remain at the end of days will be devoured by that darkness like a ravenous beast consumes its prey. All who resist will fall. There will be no escape, no matter how fear may make us fight against our fate until our last breath leaves our bodies. We will all succumb to the end—to the fire and misery that is our lot. And yet, with all of this before me, I find I am not afraid. Not truly, when the end of days suddenly seems all the more preferable to what I face now, standing before the body of the man who I once called 'Father'—

He is dead. The man I love is now an exile. I am well, and truly alone, now, and that is something I have never been. Never in all of my days.

To say anything other than that I am lost would be a lie.

Despite the pain and emptiness that I feel in the wake of his passing, however, I stand now before my father's body completely free of the tears that shook my entire frame when I first learned how he had left this world behind. A gentle breeze wafts in from the open window, the muted sounds of the city below presenting a counter-rhythm for the steady thumping of my own heart as it pounds erratically against my chest, ruffling the fabric of my gown, and causing a lock of hair to blow across my face. But in spite of the predictable way in which the tendril tickles at my nose, I remain motionless all the same, my gaze never once wavering from my father's body as though I truly do believe that staring at him with all that I have will bring him back to life.

Perhaps that fact alone serves as proof that I am nothing more than the little fool that my mother always said I was…

Fool or not, however, the sound of soft footfalls coming from behind where I stand finally serve as enough to force me from my silent contemplation, my eyes meeting the familiar expression of concern upon my newfound companion's features, while my cheeks invariably flush in response.

"You have not moved from this spot since this morning, Jaeneth. You must be hungry—"

"I can assure you I am not, Your Grace."

"And have you eaten since last afternoon?" Daenerys pressed, her eyes never leaving my face despite how her inquiry has me almost immediately diverting my own gaze back to my father's motionless features, "I suppose I should interpret your silence as denial."

"You may interpret it in any way you like, Your Grace."

"Jaeneth, please—you must allow me to help you!"

"I am fine, Your Grace."

"Then why this sudden formality? Do you blame me for his death?"

Though I know she certainly did not intend it, Daenerys' words send pain spiraling through my chest, the sudden tightness in my chest causing me to flinch in spite of my desire to prevent it. Her supposition is not true. It cannot be, despite how I know very well she would not have blamed me even if it was.

I could never blame her for my father's death, when I knew that giving his life and loyalty to the rightful Queen of Westeros was a far better fate than the one that awaited him had he simply accepted his dismissal from Joffrey Baratheon's Kingsguard as it came.

"I could never blame you, Your—"

"Jaeneth."

"Dany," I corrected, the renewed stinging at the backs of my eyes from tears I thought had long since gone away surprising me, and forcing me to avert my gaze from my father once again, in favor of looking at our Queen, instead, "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?"

"For thinking of myself when we ought to be looking forward."

"In my experience, when we lose someone we love, we are entitled to such things," Daenerys advised, her tone gentle enough to provoke a weak smile to tug at my lips just as I register the sensation of her hand reaching for my own, "If you were not thinking of yourself, I would worry for you more than I already am."

"I would not wish you to worry for me at all."

"Well wish or not, I am, and I will."

"Would it not be more prudent to focus your time on other endeavors?" I inquired, glancing down at Daenerys' hand as it reaches for mine, the warmth of her skin surprisingly reassuring in spite of my former discomfort, "You—you are a Queen—"

"Is it not the duty of a good Queen to care for each of her subjects?"

"You have many more subjects with more pressing concerns."

"None of whom I trust enough to call friend."

"What of Missandei?"

"Is a friendship with one of you mutually exclusive of the same with the other?" Daenerys asked me, examining my features a bit more closely, with a frown marring her brow as she caught how my expression had fallen, once again, into one more indicative of someone who had gone entirely numb, "I was not aware of it."

"It is not."

"Then allow me to care for you, Jaeneth. Allow me to begin to make amends for what my decisions have taken from you."

Powerless to resist the compulsion in her voice, no matter how fiercely I may have wanted to, I find that I am only capable of managing a faint nod in response to Daenerys' request, the sensation of her hand squeezing my own for a moment before she is relinquishing her hold providing far more comfort than I truly believe I deserve. Despite my initial hesitation over her presence, I find myself suddenly panicked in the face of the sound of her footsteps retreating once more, my heart leaping into my throat as I turn suddenly, and nearly stumble from my place beside the dais in the process. The sound of my blunder proves to be enough to prompt Daenerys to stop, her body turning once again to face my own as I emit a strangled gasp that I appear to be unable to restrain—and then, before I can have a prayer of stopping it, the tears that have once again begun the act of burning at the backs of my eyes break free, and I find that I am enveloped in the arms of the Queen not long thereafter.

If only we could have known now that, despite feeling near to overwhelmed with our grief now, we only stood at the cusp of the coming change that would engulf us in mere weeks after this very moment…

All men must die. But we are not men.

…

Hello there, angels! And welcome into a completely unexpected return to GoT! I know that I promised to focus on my stories that I already have posted, and so as a result some of you may be wondering what on earth I'm doing posting this, now. But I can promise you, my intentions have not changed, and I will not be abandoning my older works in favor of this one at all! I simply wished to revisit an old idea, and edit previously written chapters (or end up scrapping them and rewriting the entire thing) as well. For those of you that doubt my ability to keep up with all of these stories, just know that my current working schedule gives me seven days off in a row after working seven full days straight. And due to the fact that I rarely have plans (I'm a recluse and proud, dangit! Lol) writing is never that far from my mind.

What I was going for here was to set up an introduction to the story, as it stands right now, like I usually do, and then do one of two things: I can either dive back into the very beginning, or forge ahead from this chapter, and include the past vis a vis flashbacks. That part, I will leave up to you, my dear readers! So please do not hesitate to let me know what you would prefer!

As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you with the patience to bear with me and all of my crazy muses and ideas! I would be nowhere without your steadfast support, and I appreciate it more than you can ever know!

Until next time, angels!

MOMM