What If Jon Snow Grew Up With Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen

What if Jon Snow grew up with Daenerys and Viseris? Let's explore the depths of it in the video. The waves lap up against the walls of Dragonstoneone. As Ned Stark disembarks from his boat and approaches the ancient castle, he can feel the garrison's eyes upon him. Some wondering what he's doing here and others wondering if they can kill or capture him. Ned raises the pole with a white cloak and waves it around, letting his intentions be clear. A moment later, a figure steps out from the gate. He looks almost tiny in comparison to the massive castle, but Ned knows to treat him respectfully and offers a bow. So, William, you're looking well. Are you Lord Stark? Is the usurper enjoying his throne? He does not rest easy with Dragon Stone still eluding his control. Ah, yes. What could be more dangerous than children? Tell me, did he send you here to negotiate on his behalf? I am here on my own behalf, my lord. Before Sir Willm can inquire further, Ned reaches for something from his back and reveals a bundle strapped around his body. Sir William's eyes widen at the sight of a crying infant. He is about to ask who he is, but he looks underneath the fabric. He senses something familiar about him. He recognizes the handsome features of Rhaegar, the brooding expression even on one so young. But he also sees the long features of a Stark and their deep gray eyes. No, he has a very good idea of who this child might be. He reaches out for it and is surprised when Ned doesn't pull him back. Why is the boy here? He He would be a valuable hostage. That is precisely why I brought him here. This is a child, not some bargaining chip. And there is no one in the seven kingdoms I trust more than you to know that you have held this castle against threats of treason and the risk of siege for almost a year, said Willam. Now I ask that you take on one more burden. This boy will never be safe here. And if he is, he will never be accepted. He must grow up with his own family. Sir William regards the Lord of Winterfell with fresh eyes. His anger and mistrust faded in a moment. He knew of Lord Stark's reputation of honor, but now he sees it firsthand and is at a loss for words. All he can do is bow his head and promise he shall see it done. Ned smiles sadly as he looks at the boy, his nephew, for the last time. A part of him wants to pull him back. He imagines the life he can have in Winterfell, growing up with his other children and wife. But then he realizes that he will never truly be one of them. To take him home may be seen as a grave insult to his wife. So instead, Ned reaches into his cloak and pulls out a letter. There is one more thing, Sir Willm. I doubt I will ever see this little one again. But you will watch him grow up. When you believe the time is right, give him this letter so we may know when he is ready. I will, my lord. What is his name? Jiharis. With that, the two exchange a final blow, and Ned disappears into the waves as his ship sails off. Soon enough, Dragon Stone's position becomes untenable as the royal fleet surrounds them. Sir William decides to make his escape, making his way to Essos with three children and a few loyal men. They land in Braavos, where Sir Willm raises the children in a small house he managed to purchase with the money he got from Dragonstone. For the first few years, they grow in a stable life. As Sir William raises the children himself, he teaches them how to read and write and about the histories and faiths of the seven kingdoms. He makes their homeland still feel alive, even if they live so far away. Jiharis and Daenerys adore these lessons, taking them in like stories and legends. But while quiet, they are not entirely safe. As the old knight lives in fear of retribution from the Iron Throne, especially as Jiharis is with them, he always fears that one day Robert will learn about the young prince and send his hired knives after him. From a young age, he teaches them how to defend themselves, especially Jiharis, who Sir William instills with a desire to protect not just himself, but his siblings. You may sit the Iron Throne one day, little prince. You must first learn to protect your house if that day is to come. He tries to instill the same lessons into Viseris, reminding him that he is the eldest and it is his responsibility to see his house live on. But to the beggar king, he sees this as an insult. He is the eldest, so why is it that his younger nephew is ahead of him in succession? He is not even true born. To the angry prince, Jiharis is a bastard, and he makes a point of calling him Jiharis Sand, unaware of his true parentage. Unfortunately, this peaceful time does not last as Sir William's age catches up to him. And as he suffers from a wasting illness, he soon becomes bedridden. Before he passes, though, he offers his goodbyes to the children. Jheris, lad, I doubt I will be long in this world. Do not say that, sir. You've recovered before. You shall again, the kind thought my prince. If it were up to me, I would gladly remain by your side until my hair was white and my teeth had fallen out. But alas, it seems I am not destined to see you return home. I have done my best to prepare you for your journey ahead. And I know you've taken my lessons to heart. Live by them, and you shall see the seven kingdoms kneel to you. But before I go, I have a few things I want to give you. Despite his earlier weakness, Sir Will manages to sit up and reaches for his sword belt and hands it to him. His long sword remains sheathed in its scabbard. But that isn't all. He then reaches for his cloak and pulls out a parchment, one sealed with the direwolf of Winterfell. These are reminders of where you have come from, my boy. You have a great legacy to carry. May these gifts remind you of where you came from. Promise me you'll only open this letter when you believe you will return to the seven kingdoms. Jerus takes both these things and bows his head. The old knight smiles and dips his head. Not long after, he finally passes. Daenerys is heartbroken and spends hours crying on Jerus's shoulder, but they do not have time to mourn as soon their servants abandon them, forcing them to go on the run to search for their home. Viseris takes the lead here, acting as if he is the king in their little family. Though he was told to protect his family, the beggar king's main focus is to retake the Iron Throne. He spends what little money he has left to search for allies to retake the Iron Throne. He visits influential archons, merchant princes, sells sword companies, bankers, and priests, asking all for aid to retake Westeros. He promises everything from lands, titles, even his sister and nephew, but finds little success. They cannot even remain in a single place for long as their allies do not offer them support for long. Usually, it only lasts until their hosts are no longer amused by their presence. Once it becomes an inconvenience, they are quick to throw them out. On more than one occasion, they do this with a threat of force, and the only thing that saves them is Jiharis's skill with a sword. This continues until they reach Pentos where they are welcomed by Magister Ayio Mentis who offers them a proposal to marry Daenerys to the Dothraki Calrogo in exchange for his army. The Dothraki? Of course. Those savages would unman even the usurper. And this Calrogo has 40,000 of them. That should be more than enough. Hang on, Uncle. Would you barter off Princess Daenerys to these savages? I've heard of their barbarity. It's cruel. It will get us an army, nephew. I am prepared to do anything to ensure our family reclaims its rightful place. I expect you and my dear sister will be willing to do the same. Now, be silent. You will not want to wake the dragon. If you are prepared to do anything, then perhaps you should marry the cow. What did you say, bastard? Do not forget your place just because you have a drop of Rhaegar's blood. You are simply one of our household knights. Now, now, enough of that. It would be most embarrassing if the cow were to see you two quarreling. Do not worry, young Jiharis. The prince shall be taken care of. If it were only Viseris, Jiharis would have risked a fight. But he dared not cross their host and forces himself to bite his tongue and hope that he is telling the truth. Soon enough, the wedding takes place and the young prince watches them carefully. His eyes never leave Daenerys as he makes sure Cal Drogo treats her well. Thankfully, things seem to go well as they soon set off to vase Dothrak. Throughout the journey, Jiharis slowly changes his tune about the Dothraki. Although they do have many practices that he considers barbaric, they are also fiercely loyal to Daenerys and respect the strength of Drogo. He slowly begins to win their respect as well, showing off his talent on horse and his swordsmanship. It doesn't hurt that he doesn't fight with a suit of armor, as he has never been able to wear one. In contrast to Viseris, whom they regard with barely concealed disdain, they come to recognize Jiharis as a skilled warrior and regard him as one of them. He even gains a following among the young warriors who are eager to test their steel against him. However, the situation only gets worse when they reach Vtoro where Viserius grows increasingly humiliated and impatient regarding his invasion. This results in him being killed by Cal Drogo after threatening Daenerys in the middle of a feast. Unfortunately, Krogo soon follows Viseris as he succumbs to a wound taken in battle. Without a call to lead them, the Kalisar begins to break apart as Drogo's captains and blood riders begin to ride off. Jiharis and Jorah Mormont gather what warriors are loyal to them and try to restore order. The young prince's presence goes a long way in helping stabilize the situation. With Viserius dead, he is now the head of his house and a skillful warrior. He kills many warriors who try to challenge him and win the respect of those who see it. Though many ultimately choose to leave. Around 6,000 Dothraki choose to remain with Jiharis. So by the time Daenerys wakes up, she still has a small army of followers. But the young princess is not content with simply riding off with her small force. She instead orders a funeral p for Cal Drogo to be built and for Miriam Mazdur to be offered up as sacrifice. But as they lash her up, Jiharis talks to her. McQueen, this is dangerous. You were playing with powers beyond your understanding. This woman knew what she was doing. It killed the Carl. What might happen to you? I have no intention of dying, my nephew. This is something I must do, though. I cannot allow you to do this. So, William asked me to protect you. Then come with me. You are my nephew and heir. This is something that we must share. Then trust me as you had trusted me coming this far, Jaharis. I would like you to join me here. The young Targaryen stares at the Py and then at his aunt. He bites his lip but then squares his shoulders. As soon as it is lit, the two of them step inside. Sir Jorah and the others watch them, muttering amongst themselves. Many calling them mad and others whispering prayers to their gods at the magic they are witnessing. Yet these are all drowned out by the flames which roar higher and higher until they consume them both and they disappear in the twisting tongues of orange and red. Even the screams of the Lazar midwife are drowned out and the fires burn all throughout the night. By the morning the two figures who walked into the fire walk right out accompanied by three more. Perched at top their shoulders are dragons. Each one is small but the sight is unmistakable. The Dothraki and Serjora stare out in awe, unable to believe what they are seeing, and then start to get on their knees and bow. Each man in this Kalisar proclaims Daenerys and Jiharis as the Khesi and Call, respectively. With this army, they begin to march back the way they came, heading back to the free cities. They gather what treasure they can find and move to sell it to the merchants there. Although smaller than before, this Kalisar is still a formidable force and is more loyal to them than Drogo ever was. They might still be able to convince Yo to support them. But as they ride through the Dothraki Sea, Daenerys is careful to keep her ears open regarding news of the Seven Kingdoms. And what she learns is shocking. Robert Baratheon is dead, and the realm has fallen into civil war. The opportunity to invade is greater than ever. Even with their small force, they might be able to land and conquer the realm while it tears itself apart. But as they ride back, Jiharis recalls the letter which Sir Will left him. Now that they are returning to Westeros, he at last feels that it is time to open it. That seal. It is the direwolf of Winterfell. How stark. But Lord Eddard served with Robert against the mad king. Why would he give you a letter? They believe Rhaegar raped Lyanna. We shall see here. She glanced toward Jiharis, who nods and breaks the seal. He takes the letter out and begins to read it. Young Jiharis, if you're reading this, then there is a high chance I am no longer around. I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and your uncle. Though you do not know me, I know you, and I knew your mother. You were her final gift to this world, and I knew I had to keep you safe. Although you may resent me for sending you away, please know that if I had the chance, I would have wanted nothing more than to raise you as my own. But to raise you here in such a time would be dangerous, and I could not risk it. Know that I did not do this out of hatred for King Robert or loyalty to House Targaryen, but simply a desire to do the right thing so that you may grow up with your family. Despite that, I am not naive enough to believe that my actions will not have consequences. There may come a time when you and your house may wish to return to the Seven Kingdoms and take your throne. All I ask is that you remember this. Our family has suffered enough loss. Winter is coming, and the only way we've survived is not through fire, but by standing as one. As he sets the letter down, Daenerys and Jiharis are tearing up. He grips the letter close to his chest and tries to take in everything he's read. Emotions war in him. Anger, sadness, joy, and peace. He He defied his king for me. Defied his friend. The Series always said how cold and cruel the Starks were. And yet, he chose to do this. This Lord Eddard, he does not sound anything like my brother's stories. No, I would have loved to know him. Unfortunately, Ned Stark is dead. And now the realm tears itself apart as different kings claim the Iron Throne. They learn that Rob is not among those kings trying to rule, but instead trying to fight for his independence and protect his homeland. The two of them agree that he is the ideal ruler to ally with. They can show him Ned Stark's letter and has a powerful battle tested army. Using what little treasure they have left from Drogo's Kalisar, they sell it to buy ships for their small army. The Dothraki's reluctance to cross the narrow sea is quickly lost as Daenerys parades her dragons around, reminding them that they have already done the impossible. Though the stallion who mounts the world is no longer with them, they can still conquer Westeros for the Cal and Kesi. They soon land in Maiden Pool where the riverfolk are shocked to see them, especially as they fly the three-headed dragon of the Targaryenss. Some houses initially wish to throw them back across the narrow sea. But when Jiharis announces his intentions to join King Rob, they reluctantly let them pass. News spreads quickly of this small Kalisar's arrival. And when it reaches Riverrun, Rob Stark is waiting with his army. His gates are closed to them, and his army is close by. However, he still chooses to meet them as a sign of goodwill. Jiharis, Daenerys, and a few others are permitted inside the castle where Rob and Catelyn Stark are meeting them. The Lord of Winterfell sits back with a crown at top his head and surrounded by his loyal bannermanmen. You've come a long way here, your graces. May I inquire what your purpose is? To fight alongside you, your grace. We wish to defeat Tywin Lannister and reclaim the Iron Throne for the Targaryenss. To accomplish that, we need to make terms with you. Anyone willing to aid us and our cause is welcome to fight by our side. Though I must ask, what brings you here so suddenly? And why of all places do you wish to ally with us? Ned Stark, your grace, is my uncle. Is this some sort of jest, young prince? Lord Stark's brothers never had children. I am not a child of his brothers, but his sister. Perhaps this letter will explain everything. He reaches for the letter Ned Stark wrote him and hands it to the king in the north. As he reads it, his eyes widen and his brow furrows, taking in everything it has. But when he sets it down, his voice is thick with emotion. This is indeed my father's handwriting. I have never known my husband to be capable of lying, even on the most trivial matters. If he says this, then you are indeed our kin. And we welcome you to Riveron's family. However, I believe we should be clear about what that cause is before we go any further. We are not simply fighting to punish Tywin Lannister for his crimes. My men fight because we tire of the Iron Throne's tyranny and we wish to secure our independence. I understand you have suffered under the Lion, but does that mean you will not accept the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms? Do you think the Starks and Tullies only suffered recently? The Iron Throne has worn them down since the Mad King settlement. I ask that you do not use that slanderous name in my presence. There is nothing slanderous about it. I was there when King Aries had my betrothed executed while his father was burned alive. I was there when he called for my late husband's head for the crime of being related to his father and brother. And I was there when he turned my homeland into a battleground. My lady, perhaps this is a matter that can be discussed after we secure the Iron Throne. On the contrary, you grace, it cannot. I will not allow my army to set out without certainty of its goal. My terms are clear. I will support House Targaryen's claim to the Iron Throne, but in exchange, I expect them to support my claim to the north and Rivlands. Daenerys tenses. Her and Jiharis glance over at the bannerman, who all grumble in agreement before shouting the name Stark. It should be encouraging to see how many allies they have now. But a part of Daenerys can't help but feel resentful. Though she now knows that the tales of Asseris spun about Ned Stark are false, she still cannot help but feel distrustful. These people should be willing to bend the knee to them. The seven kingdoms were made united to end the war and suffering. And yet here they are tearing it apart once the dragon banner stops flying. Unfortunately, they cannot truly fight these terms as they have no bargaining power and agree. With that agreement, their armies ride out. Rob is given 2,500 Dothraki under the command of Serjora, a knight who is held in low regard despite his experience and being a Northman. Tales of his treason are commonplace and most want nothing to do with him. But Daenerys knows him to be loyal and refuses to demote him. He joins Rob Stark as they march towards the golden tooth. His direwolf howling beneath the blood red sky. They move fast, too fast for the Lannisters to adapt. When Rob finds a path through the defenses, the horse lords prove to be amazing assets. The Dothraki move like ghosts, striking at supply lines, slashing through rear camps, then vanishing into the woods and hills before Lannister heavy cavalry can form. Horses scream, men vanish in their sleep. Camps burn the night, and the Golden Lion wakes to smoke and silence. What had once been a slow, grinding war of attrition now turns into a wildfire as they make it a war of movement. The Dothraki have no fear of the night. They fight like wolves with fire at their heels. Rob nods but says nothing. His eyes are always turned north when no one is watching. While Rob rages across the Westerlands, Jiharis and Daenerys ride through the Riverlands, clearing out the Lannister holdouts. Tywin remains squatting in Harrenhal, but his raiders continue to burn the Riverlands in anger. They strike out, taking whatever they cannot destroy and punishing those who rise against them. They also still hold several castles, including Derry. This leaves Jiharis and Roose Bolton to recapture. Here, the Dothraki prove to be just as effective as in the Westerlands. The raiders soon find themselves the hunted as they are destroyed one by one, while Roose Bolton takes the smaller castles one by one, leaving only Harrenhal at Lannister Hands. This leaves the small folk free to return home. And when they do, Daenerys is there to visit them. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, though still young, circle above her in great sweeping arcs. Peasants and soldiers alike, fall to their knees when the dragons pass. She listens to the villagers. She holds their hands. She promises a future under a fire and justice as she works with Edmure to begin rebuilding their homes. Many weep at her words, a queen who walks among them, who speaks their tongue, who brings dragons. Then disaster. A raven finds Jiharis in the field. The seal bears a direwolf. The message is brief but damning. Winterfall has fallen. The Greyjoys have come. His face darkens as he reads it. Rob receives a similar letter. And he knows that he cannot leave this act unanswered and sends his swiftest riders to help secure Winterfell. Daenerys and 1000 Dothraki red heart to the north under moonlight. The wind howling like wolves. But as she leaves to deal with the Ironborn, news is shaping the war in the south. His Stannis and his army have now begun laying siege to King's Landing with a large army. The small garrison in the capital will not have the ability to stand for long. Tywin, trapped in Harrenhal, realizes the capital is lost if he does not act. He attempts a desperate breakout to reach the city, but Rakharo is waiting. Alongside Roose Bolton, they organize a sudden attack on him as he tries to make a forced night march. The battle is chaos. Men scream, horses buck, fire rains from the south. The Dothraki at the front accompanied by Jiharis cutting through the Westerland knights. His hair is tangled in the wind and his eyes ablaze supported by Roose Bolton and the riverman guides who know this land well. The battle results in serious casualties. Tywin's army disintegrates. The lion's last roar is smothered in flame. Tywin Lannister falls in the mud, slashed by a Dothraki rock. His bannerman flee or die. Without his aid, the city stands no chance, and Stannis takes King's Landing. But he holds no love for dragons nor wolves. He proclaims himself king and bars the gates. He declares Jiharis and Daenerys as usurpers and robs Stark a traitor to the realm. Meanwhile, in the north, Daenerys returns to find the battle is already over. After capturing Winterfell, the remaining Northmen rush to retake their lands. And a fierce battle breaks out as they find the gates open with all the Ironborn dead, but at the same time, there are dozens of Northmen dead on the ground, including most of the castle garrison. All they can do is restore it as best they can and gather the surviving men. These soldiers have wandered all across the surrounding countryside, bearing the sigils of House Umber, Manderly, Kaiwin, and Tallheart. But when he asks them about the battle, men give contradicting stories. Some saying the Ironborn struck from behind, some saying the army turned on each other, and still others claimed that a third army hit them from behind. What is clear, though, is that Winterfell is now theirs, and the Ironborn have been slaughtered. Unfortunately, they weren't the only casualties. As among the dead are Bran and Rickon Stark, the young brothers of Rob. But as Daenerys goes about securing Winterfell, another rider appears from the horizon. This one bearing a banner of pure black, the Night's Watch. The rider insists on speaking with Daenerys Targaryen, urging her to come to the wall. Heeding this warning, he leaves a small garrison in Winterfell, consisting of the soldiers left behind, while him and his Dothraki ride to the wall. When they arrive at Castle Black, they find it in little better shape than Winterfell. It looks like it's gone through a battle with blood everywhere and the bodies of men dragged out. These people look as though they were savaged, clawed, and ripped at with bare hands and teeth instead of swords. Daenerys watches as the rhythm leads the people out and shuddters. However, the Black Brothers direct her to Maester Ammon's chambers where the girl bows respectively. Daenerys Stormbborn, blood of my blood, last of the House of Dragons. I am Master Aman of the Night's Watch. Born Aman Targaryen, son of Me, brother to Aegon the Unlikely. I am your kin. You are my grand uncle. I am, and I wish I could have been, but it seems our lives have taken different turns. I wrote to you not to stir bloodlines, but to warn. The darkness stirs beyond the wall. The dead do not sleep. The Lord Commander is dead. Whites breach the watch. Those are the creatures that killed the men you saw. Whites. Those are the dead risen. Risen and hungry for more death. They killed our best men in those attacks, our commanders and rangers before we managed to kill them. But I fear this is not the end of it. They were merely cats paws, not leaders. You believe more will come? Perhaps, but something is coming. The wildlings flee south in great numbers. When they arrive here, I do not believe they will let the war stop them. All of these are signs of the prophecies. The prince that was promised, his destiny has come. But the cold does not care for prophecy. If you still carry the fire of old Valyria, then you and your nephew will have a role in this coming war. Uncle Aman, what do you say? It is difficult to believe. I doubt anyone would. But you and your nephew have risen dragons. Is this truly so strange? No. And even if it wasn't, I will not let my uncle die here alone. She writes back to Jiharis, telling him all this. He listens, barely able to understand what she's talking about. There are mentions of prophecies and white walkers, but these make little sense to him. His attention is on wiping out the remaining Lannister holdouts. As Rob returns from the west, flush with victory. However, there is trouble in the capital. Stannis now takes possession of Sansa Stark and uses her as a bargaining chip. He offers to trade her to Rob if they surrender Daenerys Targaryen and bend the knee to him as the rightful ruler of their Iron Throne. This also comes with the revelation that Sansa was the only Stark girl in Lannister custody, making her the sole remaining heir of Rob Stark, the king in the north is now in a difficult position. Meanwhile, the Tyrells remain uncommitted in the war as after Renley's death, they simply went back to the Reach and sat out the rest of the war. Though Stannis now controls King's Landing, they aren't keen on bending the knee as they know they can only hope to remain in power at best and look for ways to turn their situation around. In the north, the snow falls harder now. Castle Black stands braced in silence. Black brothers gripping pikes with frostbitten fingers. Dothraki outr rididers pace nervously. Northmen. Survivors from Winterfell and Hillclans man the outer defenses wrapped in patchwork furs and half- rusted mail. Daenerys stands at top the wall, her hair whips in the wind, her dragons perched like gods of old at top the gate house. This has been the situation for days, simply waiting for the wildlings to come as they dare not send rangers out when their numbers were so badly depleted. Word has come that Rob is riding back with his men, but it will take weeks for him to arrive. Meanwhile, she sees them. The wildlings come like a tide. Thousands pour from the treeine, yelling in dozens of tongues. There are giants at the rear, thundering forward with great clubs, woolcloaked spearmen, children with daggers, women with swords. All of them desperate. Signal the archers. A horn blasts. The night's watch fires first. Black arrows piercing the white sky. Then from the flanks, the Dothraki ride. Whooping and shrieking. They're curved to rocks flashing like silver flame. They race across the frozen fields, slicing through the wildling flanks before wheeling back into the woods. The northern skirmishers hold the central gate, axes locked, shields braced. Little Flint faces off a band of ths, roaring with a hammer in both hands. But it is Daenerys who breaks the wildling's will. She directs her Dothraki to run them down. For the undisiplined wildlings, this is the sort of attack that breaks their will. The Dothraki rain arrows upon them before closing in with swords. Meanwhile, the raiding parties from the rear face off against Drogon, who unleashes a barrage of flames. When giants try to break the outer palisade and into the gate, she commands Rhaegal and Viseris to strike. Dracharis. The green and white dragons bellow and flame pours like sunlight through the snow. The wildlings falter. Their charge loses steam. Their leaders, Tormund, Giants Bane among them, try to rally their people, but they are not fighting to conquer. They are fighting to live. They begin to fall back. Not out of cowardice, but awe. Daenerys emerges from the fire, staring up at them. Lay down your arms. I am Daenerys, Stormbborn of House Targaryen, rider of dragons. I have no quarrel with you. But I will not let you break this wall. Then what do you want? I want your survival. I want peace. I want no more children to freeze. I want no more dead to rise. But if you try to break this gate, I will burn the path behind you until even your ghosts have no place to haunt. Lay down your weapons, and I will work to grant you your passage. Is that what your southern king commanded you to say? I have dragons. No one commands me to say anything. The silence is thunderous. Then, one by one, the wildlings drop their weapons. It will be several more days until the reinforcements arrive. And in that time, Daenerys finds herself surrounded by the people, taking in their culture. She joins them for meals, listens to their tales, learns their languages and their plight. The threat of the white walkers has forced them to unite under a single king. And now they are willing to join her if it means guaranteeing their survival. To the young queen, this reinforces her desire to unite the seven kingdoms just as Aegon did. With the long night coming, she feels like the only way their kingdom can survive is by having a unified realm. By the time Rob Stark's reinforcements arrive, the battle is over. He rides into Castle Black, his army flanking him, and sees the wall still standing. No bodies rising, no flames licking its sides, just the dragons perched like sentinels. Just Daenerys standing at the gates, bloodstained, but alive, surrounded by kneeling free folk. Your grace, there is much to discuss. The free folk do not just come here to invade. They had come here fleeing from something much greater, white walkers. So, your nephew wasn't just pulling my leg when he told me this story. Unfortunately, not. They had already slain Lord Commander Mormont during their first attack. Ask any of the Rangers here. As for these people, if it is enough to send many people on the run, just imagine what they can do to the Seven Kingdoms. So, what is it you're suggesting to do? I want them to be let through. They will serve as my army as we march south, and together we can conquer the Seven Kingdoms. Mance Raider has proposed terms. They will march for me if they are given lands to settle. I understand that much of the land south of the wall is unmanted. That should suffice. Hold on a moment. I will not simply agree to this. Remember that these wildlings are your people, not mine. If they are to stay here, then they must bend the knee to me and swear allegiance. They will not kneel you, Grace. It took dragons to even get them to negotiate. Besides, this is for your security, King Rod. They will be guarding the wall. My men can guard the wall. I do not need you deciding how my kingdom handles its own security. There is much bad blood between the North and the Wildlings. Lord Umb's own cousins were carried off by raiders. Bear Island was attacked more than once by sea. The mountain clans have little love for them either. You may say it will be for the North, but it will be the North that feeds and houses them while you continue your conquests. So, what do you suggest? Simply throwing these people out, leaving them to starve and freeze because of your bad blood. We need to stand united against the threat of the Long Night. Yes. Yes. A unified realm under your control. So long as we do what you want. Otherwise, we would be named. Or have you forgotten our agreement? The North shall remain independent. An agreement made by my nephew and agreed to by you because you would not provide me with the swords I needed. Well, it seems you have your army and no longer need them. Take them and be gone from here. Very well, I will. But do not think I will have forgotten this conversation, you grace. When I complete my conquest, I am coming for you. The two stare at each other before cursing and stalking off. When Jiharis hears this, he is horrified and urges them to make peace and join forces once again, but neither side is willing to make peace. The young prince is torn between his new and old family, but decides to follow Daenerys, seeing it as his duty to keep them safe. Rob at least promises to let the army march down to the neck in peace, deciding that it was better than simply risking allout war with them while the north is in such a fragile state. Those willing to bend the knee are quick to do so and settle there. However, as they reach the Riverlands, the people come out to see her. By now, her dragons are large, fully grown, and fly overhead. But they are just one of the many oddities in her army. Behind them are row after row of wildlings, many in ragged fur and dented male. There are also giants and warcs, skin changers, and warriors of all sorts. But when they cross into the Riverlands, Daenerys receives a message from Dorne. They heard about her victories on the wall and how her armies crushed the Lannister army. They now offer to join her in exchange for a marriage alliance. Daenerys will marry Quinton Martell and in exchange they will help bring the Reach into the fold. At the same time, Daenerys also considers joining the Reach as well since they have the largest army and have not declared for anyone. However, Serga advises against that. You will not find any loyalty from them. They had joined Renley at the start of the war, though he had not claimed the Iron Throne. Now they refuse to declare for Stannis. Some might consider it integrity. It seems to me that it is because they have nothing to gain from it. Make no mistake, Mace Tyrell does not want you as a good daughter. He wants to see his grandchild on the throne. Hearing this, Daenerys decides to declare for the Martell. The Reach is quiet at dawn, its fields golden and blooming, but by midday, war devours it. The wildlings are the first to strike. Masses of unarmored fury sprinting across the hills with rusted axes, scavenged swords, and stolen helms. Their battlecries ripple like thunder. But when they crash against the Tyrell failins, they break like waves on stone. Spears thrust forward with mechanical precision, puncturing bone and hide. Arrows fall in volleys, burring themselves in pelts and flesh. The lion holds. The wildlings fall back, scattered and confused. Discipline beats desperation. The Dothraki follow from the right. Their screamers come in full gallop, a rock blades catching sunlight, hooves thundering in savage rhythm. They strike hard, tearing through the first cavalry screen with blinding speed. But the chaos of their charge unravels. When their lines do not shatter, the Dothraki have no strategy beyond hitting them again. Jiharis tries his best to organize them, but it does little good. The Tyrell knights regroup swiftly, encircling them. Horses collide. Riders are pulled from their saddles. Screams fill the air as curved blades clash with polished steel. Blood spatters the green fields red. These are two different armies that rely on shock instead of discipline. Those who have never fought together and who lack any armor beyond ragged furs and boiled leather. Across the front, Daenerys's army loses momentum. Her wildlings flee in knots. Her screamers disband and only commit to fighting retreats. But these retreats do not guarantee victory. The Reach pushes forward, eager to press their advantage. From above, the shadow of wings fall across the battlefield. Flame erupts. Drogon dives from the clouds, unleashing fire across the Tyrell flank. Men scream as they are consumed. Armor glowing white hot before melting. Rhaegal and Visarian spiral through the smoke, bathing the earth in green and gold fire. Horses rear and bolt. Ranks collapse into chaos. It is only in a small area, but enough as Mace sends his giants and Dothraki charging again. This time, the Tyrells are forced to retreat, leaving them with the field. This allows Daenerys and Mance to regroup their forces, but this is a familiar sight throughout the battlefield. Although Wildlings loot the dead and gather their arms and armor, they still do not understand how to fight as a unit. It is difficult to reform their lines, but thankfully they have time, and the Martell's save them. From the marches, they explode outward like a swarm of bees. Thousands of Dornish spears crash into the Tyrell rear. Sand colored banners whip in the wind as their cavalry drives forward with brutal efficiency. Tyrell's infantry turns slowly. Formations dissolve under the assault. Ober Martell and Lord Irinwood take command of their forces and press deep against the battered Tyrell army. Wildlings regroup in charge again, screaming through the scorched fields. Dothraki lash out with renewed rage. Tyrell survivors try to flee, but they are hunted down, swallowed by fire and steel. It takes months and far too many casualties, but the Tyrells eventually fall thanks in large part to the Martell. When the smoke clears, bodies litter the hills. Wildlings and reach knights, Dothraki and Dornishmen. The banners of House Tyrell burn in heaps. The reach bleeds. From the east, the first scouts of Stannis Baratheon's host emerge beneath the storm grey sky. Daenerys watches them come, Ash clinging to their clothing, her dragons wheeling above like heralds of vengeance. The queen of flames turns toward the west, her eyes on High Garden. And beyond that, storms end. There is no rest, only fire, only war. But as Daenerys advances to confront them, Stannis withdraws into the Stormlands, turning the forests into a graveyard of trees and hidden ambushes. Her army marches through the mud and mist. Dothraki blades gleaming, Martell spears poised, wildling scouts sweeping the hills. Yet no army meets them, only death lurking among the trees. Stannis Baratheon fights like the land he rules, unyielding, soaked in blood and rain. His men strike under the cover of night, cutting supply lines, torching camps, vanishing into the forest and fog before dawn breaks. One by one, villages deny Daenerys's aid. One by one, her outr rididers are found dead, eyes open, throats slit. The dragons fly and Daenerys and Jiharis riding a top their backs and burning through the trees to clear a path for the men and destroying bands of stormlanders too slow to stop them. Fire alone cannot burn shadows. They scorch clearings, incinerate groves, but the Stormlanders consume her host in attrition and silence. The North has withdrawn. Rob Stark holds Winterfell. His war is done. The Riverlands are exhausted, scarred by Tywin's raids and closely guarded by the Blackfish. The Targaryen host, once triumphant, finds itself choked by terrain, tactics, and time. By now, the only way to King's Landing is through the Stormlands. To break the stalemate, Daenerys gives her command. The Wildlings ride, not his soldiers, but raiders. She realizes that she cannot bring Stannis to a regular battle, but must instead do it by forcing him out. Villages are pillaged, farmsteads burned, any harboring of royalists is struck down. Fear spreads faster than fire. Her dragons follow. Viserion turns forests to blacken cinders. Rael hunts roads. Drogon leads the way. Whole hamlets vanish beneath his flame. Jiharis leads the Dothraki at top Viserion, leading raids and forcing villages to open their gates or face the fire. But though he does it, the acts do not sit well with him. When he brings it up to his aunt, Daenerys calls it unification. She calls it justice. But behind her, the scorched earth tells a different story. Unfortunately though, Stannis has a will of iron. The small folk who follow him are less convinced. All they see are their homes on fire and their kings skullking in the trees. His support slowly begins to bleed away, depriving him of local support and leaving his strategy untenable. Seeing himself unable to maintain supply lines in the stormlands without the people, Stannis retreats behind the walls of King's Landing, his army, bloodied and lean, hold the gates with grit and desperation. The siege begins. Daenerys's host surrounds the city. Catapults, battering rams, and a dragon's hammer batter the defenses. But Stannis, though cornered, refuses to surrender. His men fight like zealots. Food dwindles. Plague spreads. The city fers, but the king does not yield. Every day he visits his troops on the wall, raising morale and even organizing sortes against them. Weeks pass, then a month. The dragons grow restless, the soldiers more so. The wildlings are especially restless, and some wish to go home. And finally, Daenerys gives her orders for the dragons to strike. They had managed to whittle the garrison and wall defenses so that its anti-dragon weaponry were no longer as effective. So, they finally decided to strike. From above, the three dragons rush down. Daenerys and Jiharis share a nod as they dive down, dodging the whipping ballista bolts firing past them. A few miss by just a few inches, but neither one can think about it as they get closer. Their black flames hit the outer gate like a hammer. The walls groan. The fire spreads. Towers catch, then crack, then crumble. Viserion and Rhaegal follow, blasting their parapets, torching ballista and archers. The flames spill into the city, sweeping through streets, entire districts ablaze. Panic spreads faster than the dragons. Jiharis pulls back and looks at the fire in shock, watching as it spreads. The part of him wants to halt the attack immediately. The destruction overcomes his strategic sense as he pauses to watch the consequences. But the army does not stop. Dothraki stream through, cutting down men who are trying to put out the fires while Martell's and Reachmen rush through after them. Wildlings roar as their giants pull down defenses and they stream through the smoke. Her army advances. The walls fall and the defenders scatter. Chaos reigns. The Red Keep is stormed. And in its scorched hall, Stannis Baratheon waits with his sword. his face sunken as if he has one foot in the grave. Daenerys approaches him. Rubble and embers crackle beneath Daenerys's boots as she walks forward. Dragon flames still trailing behind her. And then a shadow forms behind her. A shadowy assassin appears, raising a dagger. Before it strikes, Jiharis swoops low. Viserion's fire burning through the shadowy assassin and destroying it. As it rides on the ground, Jiharis leaps down and plunges his sword into it. When he pulls the blade out, he's stunned to see it glowing a faint orange as heat radiates off it. Seeing his efforts to stop the queen go to waste, he drops to one knee. So, this is how you win. Find fear. This is how I bring unity. The realm has torn itself apart for too long. I will make it whole, no matter the cost. You've put the cart before the horse girl. What? You think ruling comes after conquest, that if you burn long enough, the people will follow. That everything you do here will justify your rule. But it doesn't. It only sets the tone for your rule. Trust me, I know. I live with my actions. And I still have nightmares. We both meant to save the realm, but only one of us remembered what it meant. The light in his eyes fades and with it the last of House Baratheon. Daenerys stands alone in the throne room of the Red Keep. Smoke filters through the broken windows. Fire still burns in the streets below. Her banners rise over the blackened walls. Her dragons wheel above the ruins. She is one, but the silence is louder than any cheer. A top the wall. A sound tears through the silence. Low, ancient, unholy. The horn of winter. The wall trembles. Snow cracks. East Watch buckles first. Ice shattering like glass under pressure centuries old. As the magic that held it together for so long begins to crack, men scream as the ground they are marching on shutters. And they watch the wall above them break apart, sending centuries and ice tumbling into the ocean. But as the gaps form, a wave of blue-eyed whites pour over the rubble, screaming without breath. The White Walkers come next, mounted on skeletal horses cloaked in frost. The Knights Watchmen and their northern allies assemble in preparation for this assault. They rush forward, rallying with the ruins and to try to fortify it as best they can. This leads to a back and forth struggle as they try to beat back the hordes of the undead. Rob Stark stands at top Winterfell's battlements and sends his army northward to reinforce the Nights Watch. But as his arm is assembled, he takes a deep breath, knowing that he may stand alone now that Daenerys sits on the iron throne. The fighting lasts for weeks on the wall as the dead gather in numbers that blot out the horizon. The firewood has run low and the steel isn't effective. The only thing they seems to slow the whites down is fire, but nothing stops the white walkers. At least not anything they have, although they know it's a desperate maneuver. Rob sends word to Daenerys asking for help. Of course, the queen already knows it. Something as big as this is impossible to conceal. Daenerys Targaryen listens to the roar port in silence. Ash still clings to her boots. King's Landing lies behind her, blackened, broken, conquered. Her dragons rest on the battlements of the Red Keep. The Iron Throne is hers, but there is no triumph in her eyes. She stares at the fire in the brazer. It flickers, nothing more. Jiharis enters, Lightbringer strapped across his back. The blade once belonged to Sir Willm is now reforged in dragon flame. You've read the report. This is what Mr. Aman was talking about. A part of me wished he was just losing his mind. So do I. But the time has come to act. We must ride now. Do you think we made the right choice coming here? I mean, is this the time? We've made mistakes in the past. I don't want to go ride out only to make the world worse. Truthfully, I don't know. We were always told what our destiny was, and perhaps we believed in it too much. But what happened before won't matter unless we fix things now. There'll remain a mistake unless we make it right. Then are you prepared to put the horse before the cart? They share one more look before sending the order out. They ride. Daenerys on Drogon, Jiharis on Viserion. Behind them come Dothraki, Dornish spears, and knights once sworn to houses of the reach, Westerlands, and Stormlands. Snow falls heavier with each mile. Villages are abandoned. Roads are swallowed in the frost. They reach Moalin, now suffering from a flurry of snow. And then beyond the reals, whose ground begins to freeze. Finally, Winterfell, and it is burning. The dead are everywhere. Whites crawl over the battlements, clawing at defenders with blackened hands. Giants smash at the gates. Northmen die by the dozens, their screams muffled by the storm. The last living hold the inner yard, surrounding Rob Stark, bloodied but unbowed. And then the sky breaks open. Drogon descends in a scream of fire and fury. His shadows swallowing the moonlight. Flames wash across the field, turning the undead to ash. Miserion follows, burning swaths into the rear ranks of the whites. Rhaegal moves in between, clearing up who survived that. Daenerys lands first, leaping from Drogon's back into the chaos. Behind them, the cries of her army echo across the battlefield as they rush forward, trying to break their way into Winterfell. Dothraki ride down undead direwolves. Thornish spears pierce frozen flesh. The tide turns from the walls of Winterfell. The Northmen cheer. For the first time in weeks, they believe they will survive. But in the godswood, the night king watches. He watches as Daenerys raises the morale of the northmen. Jiharis finds him amid the snow swept heart of the old forest. He walks alone, sword drawn. The Night King stands tall, cold, and eternal. His spear of ice crackling with blue flame. They clash without a word. Blade meets frost. Steel hisses against death. Lightbringer glows with the fire of born duty, striking faster, harder, but the Night King does not fall. He counters. He presses Jiharis back. Then Daenerys stumbles into the godswood, bleeding, smoke trailing from her cloak. The Night King turns towards her. She raises her dagger and drives it into his chest. And then the steel shatters against his armor. The blow sends her stumbling back as she falls to one knee. The Night King advances on her, readying his steel, but Jiharis catches his blade and twists it aside, driving it towards his heart. The Night King shatters in silence. Ice explodes outward. His body dissolves into light. And all at once, the whites fall. The wind goes still. The long night ends. The cart is finally behind the horse. After spending some time to recover, Daenerys resumes her role as queen, starting with an apology to Rob for trying to step over his rule. She begs him for forgiveness, saying she was a fool and is happy to recognize the North's independence. To this, Rob says that when it counted, she was there and is proud to call her a friend of the North. When she returns home, she is hailed as a hero along with Jiharis, who is made the queen's heir and given Dragonstone to rule. That's our theory. Westeros is a land filled with exciting stories and possibilities, and we love exploring them. If you want to accompany us on this journey across the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, then please like, share, and subscribe to our channel.