Tangent by Sparkles59

Summary: What if Jon and Daenerys married before they le Dragonstone

for White Harbor. Spoilers for Season 7, episode 7

Rating: Explicit

Category: F/M

Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)

Relationship: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen

Characters: Jon SnowDaenerys TargaryenArya StarkSansa StarkTyrion Lannister

Additional Tags: JonerysR plus L equals JJonerys babiesMarried Jon Snow/Daenerys

TargaryenDragonstoneSmutDragon Eggs

Language: English

Series: Part 1 of the Tangent series

Stats: Published :2017-10-13 Completed:2017-11-25 Words:102791 Chapters:21/21

Hey all! There was a fan “theory” making its rounds on the internet. I sco e d at it for a bit,
then it rolled around in my head and it actually (godsdammit) started making sense. So, here’s
my take on it. Enjoy!

Tangent Chapter 1
Daenerys paced in her room, mulling over Tyrion’s suggestion aer he le. It had merit, joining
the North to the rest of the kingdoms once more by marrying Jon Snow, King in the North.
How receptive his people would be to it . . . that was another matter entirely. The politics of
it made sense, however, and if she could just convince the Lady of Winterfell of her intentions
...

She stopped herself there. Deep down, she knew that it wouldn’t be a match for purely
political reasons. She’d have to be stupid to not know why he looked at her the way he did,
and even
more still if she didn’t understand she also had a greatly growing aection for him. The way he’d
held her hand when he awoke on board their ship aer Viserion was killed, the way he’d publicly
pledged himself to her in front of Cersei just two days before proved he liked her well enough.

Would it really be the most intelligent thing to do? She’d warned him twice already that she
wouldn’t be able to produce an heir, which was vitally important. The King in the North needed
an heir. That wasn’t her only aw, however. Viserys reminded her oen that she was lucky he
didn’t care how ugly she was. Khal Drogo, as much as she’d come to love him, had bought her
on

a promise he never intended to keep and wasn’t interested in what was in her mind, with or
without his son growing inside her. Daario had so blatantly lusted aer her title that she
plainly
understood he didn’t really care about her looks or what she thought, either. Hizdahr had
made many declarations of her beauty, but his love had been lukewarm at best, which proved
to her that his words were all for show. Ser Jorah . . . she never really considered his
judgement sound when it came to women; she based that on his own words of his life and
love before he was exiled to Essos.

Jon, however . . . he looked at her like no one else had ever done. “You’re not like everyone
else,” he’d said. Drogon liked him, too. That spoke volumes to her about his character, and it was
when Jon had reverently touched Drogon that she had allowed herself to start appreciating his
ner qualities. He listened to her, treated her like her thoughts mattered, gave good counsel,
and
respected her wishes. Would that continue if she agreed to wed him? Could she take
that chance?

Oh for the love of . . . it was Jon. She respected him. She could ask him her questions and tell
him her concerns without stewing about it in her room alone. He’d be able to tell her without
any guesswork on her part. There was only one solution; she’d go speak to him about it.

Her hand was on the handle of her door almost before she realized it, and she was pulling
it
open. Down the dark and narrow corridors of Dragonstone she walked, the sounds of her
footsteps echoing down the hall. Finding his room wasn’t dicult, nor was her knock
hesitant.

“Come,” he called, giving his unknown guest permission to enter. She froze momentarily, unused
to him speaking in that particular tone with her. “Come in,” he said again, louder.

Fumbling with the unfamiliar handle, she wrested the door open and stepped inside. His back
was turned and he was looking at a raven’s scroll. She cleared her throat, and he turned to
look at her.

“My Queen,” he greeted her, putting down the scroll. “Apologies, I was expecting Ser Davos
or Lord Tyrion.”

“No, it’s just me,” she said quietly, coming to stand next to him. “I have some questions and
concerns.”

His face grew serious. “You’ve spoken to your Hand too, then,” he responded. “He’s already
spoken to me.”

She nodded, then pressed forward. “If we were to marry, how would we rule together?
Would you expect me to defer to you?”

Jon made a face, and she was relieved. “Of course not,” he answered. “I imagine it would be
the same as we do now, listening to each other and our advisors, then deciding together. I’m
sorry if I’ve done anything that would indicate otherwise. What else?” he prompted her.

“I . . . I can’t have children, Jon,” she whispered. “No amount of wishing on my part has
changed that yet, and you’ll need an heir in the North.”

“I know you believe that,” he answered. “I respect it, and when the time comes, we’ll nd an
heir if need be, I promise. Anything else?”

She ushed and looked away for a moment, then looked at him squarely in the eyes. “Would this
be strictly a political alliance? I had married a Meereenese man for political reasons. We slept
in dierent pyramids altogether before he was killed. Should I prepare for that? Do you have a
lover you’d like to return to in the North?”

“Daenerys,” he sighed, and he reached out to her, taking her clasped hands into one of his
own. “There’s no one. There was, once, but she died from an arrow from my own men. A
Wildling girl named Ygritte. There had been no one before, nor since.”

She nodded. “That doesn’t answer my question, though,” she whispered, looking down at
his hand holding both of hers. She watched as his squeezed hers.

He was quiet for a long time, thinking. Daenerys could clearly hear the ocean surf in the silent
room. Just the surf and their breathing. Finally, he spoke. “My answer is this: if it happens to
be
 just a political alliance for now, I’ll still make the oer with the hope we could be more some
time in the future.”

“You’d hope for more?” she asked, running her thumb along the side of his
hand.

“Aye, I would,” he agreed, letting his tone tell her how he truly felt.

She looked up at him. He was watching her carefully. “I’d think we would be starting with more
at this point, don’t you?” she asked quietly, letting him see the emotions on her face.

He took a deep breath, and suddenly he was sinking to his knees in front of her, taking her
hands in both of his. “Daenerys Targaryen, would you accept my hand in marriage? I promise
to honor you and love you every day for the rest of my life if you’ll have me.”
She blinked, her heart pounding in her chest. How on earth did this feel so right? “I will,”
she answered. “And I promise to honor and love you for the rest of mine.” So this is what it
was supposed to feel like, this warm jittery feeling? Was this how other people felt when
they decided to marry?

He stood up and gave her a smile that warmed her through. “May I?” he asked, bringing his
hands up to cup her face more gently than she expected. He waited, looking her in the
eyes.
When she nodded, he moved in, touching his lips to hers.

His lips were warm and so. He smelled good, like leather and wind and sea, the salt from the
voyage across Blackwater Bay clinging to his beard a little.

Too soon, he pulled away, keeping his kiss innocent and light. He looked down at her mouth as
he pulled away, smiling at her disappointment. “Go change, Your Grace,” he whispered soly.
“Meet me in the dragonglass cave in an hour. Dragonstone doesn’t have a godswood, but
the cave will serve the same purpose. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Her head spun. “Now?” she asked. She’d thought that he’d want to discuss this with his family
to at least get their approval, let alone the entire North.

He nodded. “Our lives may be over in just a few months. I don’t want to waste another day if
that’s all right with you?” He stopped and considered his next words carefully. “We might
have to keep it just to ourselves for a bit to make the right appearances, though.”

She found herself nodding. Good, the thought had at least occurred to him. “Yes,” she
answered, more certain of herself in that moment than she’d felt in a long while.

She turned to go, but he suddenly grabbed her arm. “Wait,” he whispered, then pulled her
into his arms for a harder kiss, pulling her upper lip between his briey, the warmth of his
hands penetrating her dress where he held her at the waist before letting her go. His kiss
held the promise of many more.
Flushing, she hurried from the room and back to her own, nding it still empty. Missandei was
with Grey Worm. She’d have to nd a dress herself, and attempt to get herself ready alone.
Panicking slightly, she opened one of the many chests of clothes she’d brought from
Meereen,
silks and linens, all useless against the cold outside. She’d freeze before she made it out of
the gates.

A so knock at her door brought her great relief. Missandei stepped into the room. “What do I
wear as a bride in a Northern wedding, Missandei?” she whispered anxiously. “I don’t know . . .
I had no time to plan or even know what’s proper . . .”

“Come,” she beckoned, leading Dany further back into her bedchamber. She pulled out an
ivory colored silk dress, heavier than she expected, but still made for the milder Winter in
Meereen.

She shook her head. “It’s too cold for that,” she
protested.

“It would be if the groom hadn’t already gone down there to light the braziers, Your
Grace,” Missandei smiled. “Wear your fur coat over the top, and then your cloak.”

Daenerys smiled back at her friend. “Who told you that?” she
asked.

“Lord Tyrion, Your Grace,” she answered. “Who also would like to know who was giving you to

His Grace so he could prepare them as well.”

Daenerys thought about it, considering her options carefully. She would have chosen Ser Jorah
if it wouldn’t hurt him terribly, but she knew it would. Varys? No. Tyrion? He was probably the
wisest choice, but . . . “Would you?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, I could ask any of the lords
here, but . . . you’re the closest person to family that I have.”

Missandei blinked, startled. “I would be honored, Daenerys,” she answered once the
surprise wore o.“I will.” Daenerys reached out for her and hugged her tightly, closing her
eyes at
Missandei’s reciprocation. It feels good to be loved. Missandei pulled away rst, then smiled,
pulling out the clasp in Dany’s hair and letting if fall. She loosened the braids gently and
then rearranged them. “Let’s get you ready, then.”

Once she was freshly attired and ready, Missandei slipped out of the room to see Lord Tyrion.
Apparently there were things that she was required to learn to say in order to be a proper
escort
for a Northern wedding. Daenerys paced nervously while she waited. A Northern wedding at
Dragonstone. She wondered what her ancestors would have thought of it. As far as she
knew,
Targaryens hadn’t bothered to adhere to any of the gods particularly, unless one counted
Baelor the Blessed. She didn’t much care, either, but it mattered to Jon and that was more
than enough for her.

She twisted her hands together absently, feeling her mother’s ring on her nger. She traced the
tiny dragon with ruby eyes with one nger, wishing she had even one memory of her. When she
was small, Ser Willem had said she resembled her mother, who had been a great beauty.
Viserys had immediately and vehemently disagreed with him, looking down at her with disgust.
She had
tried so hard to be beautiful for him, tried to be pleasing to his eyes, but she always fell
short and he let her know it. She didn’t much care for mirrors even now because of it; she
simply
trusted Missandei to make her look presentable. It hadn’t mattered before, and she hadn’t
cared, not really, but . . . she didn’t have to wonder what Jon saw when he looked at her. His look
was enough.

Missandei’s so knock sounded at the door, and Daenerys went to open it. “Ready?” Missandei
asked with a smile.

“Ready,” Dany echoed, looking puzzled when Missandei oered Dany her arm.

“I’m escorting you,” she

explained.

“Oh,” was all Dany could think of to say. She took her friend’s arm and held onto her.

“We’re going to walk through and not say anything to anyone,” Missandei explained quietly
as

they walked. “We’re simply going for a walk outside as friends.”

Daenerys nodded and followed her lead, down the steps all the way to the beach. Ser Davos
was there, waiting for them, and escorted them to the cave, handing Missandei a lighted torch
and taking Daenerys’ coat. She shivered slightly despite still having her red and black cloak, but
when she followed Missandei into the cave, it was bearable. “Here, Your Grace, forgive me,”
Ser Davos said quietly, then reached behind her to spread her cloak out more to cover her
back. “There.” He gestured for her to follow Missandei’s retreating form.

She could see more re, deep in the cave, where the Children of the Forest and the First Men
had made their marks and told their stories. She understood why Jon had picked this place.
It was sacred to him. As she walked, she felt warmer. He’d made it warm enough for her.

“Who comes before the old gods this day?” Tyrion’s voice echoed strangely in the small
alcove, his words no less strange.

Missandei spoke. “Daenerys of House Targaryen comes here to be wed,” she answered, her
voice strong and sure. Daenerys felt her growing nervousness disappear. This was right and
there was no time to second guess it now. “Trueborn, rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”

Jon looked directly at her, and her heart pounded in her ears. They were doing the right
thing. “Jon Snow, King in the North. Who gives her?” he asked, never looking away.

“Missandei of Naath, friend, protector, and handmaiden,” came the answer.

Tyrion looked at her, she could see him in her peripheral vision, but her eyes were full of
Jon. “My Queen Daenerys, will you take this man?”

She swallowed, never breaking her gaze from Jon, and then walked the rest of the way to
stand in front of him. She struggled to speak, her emotions causing a thickness in her throat.
Jon. “I take this man,” she answered nally.
“We’ll take a moment now to kneel in this sacred place, and ask the gods in our own ways to
bless this marriage,” Tyrion instructed, and she saw Jon kneel before her for only a moment
before she joined him, their eyes never breaking. They breathed together for several minutes,
the silence in the cave broken only by the sounds of re in the braziers and torches. She never
wanted to look away from him again. Then he was cupping her face again, smiling at her for
the briefest of moments before he was kissing her soly, a breathless little brush of lips, and
she knew he was holding back.

Too soon he pulled away, helped her to stand and then removed her cloak, handing it to
Missandei before removing his own and wrapping it around her, fastening it tightly. The heavy
warmth of it sent shivers through her, surrounded by his scent. She touched the direwolves
on the leather bindings, admiring them for a moment before he took her hands and kissed
her again, deeper this time, pulling her into his arms.

“And thusly the North and the South are joined,” Tyrion said. “May this marriage bring peace and
prosperity to the realm.”

Jon pulled away to look at him. “ Thank you, Lord Tyrion,” he said sincerely, holding Daenerys
tightly against him. He looked down at her and smiled, then tucked her head under his chin
and inhaled her scent. His heart thudded loudly and just a little faster than she’d thought it
would against her ear. Jon? It happens to you too when I’m near you?

Long before she was ready, he was pulling away from her. “Time to put your own coat back on,”
he whispered. “If we’re gone much longer we’ll be missed.” She nodded, reluctantly allowing
him to remove his. She missed being surrounded by him almost immediately. Ser Davos
handed her silvery gray coat to Missandei, who in turn, fastened it back into place and
donned her
Targaryen cloak over the top once more.

Tyrion spoke up. “It may be prudent to keep this quiet for now . . . Meet with the rest of
the Starks and gain their approval if you can, and then we can announce it at Winterfell.”

Daenerys looked at Jon, who nodded slowly. “It’s not what I want,” he began. “But it is for the
best. We’d already agreed on that before we came down here.”

“We need to get everyone together to discuss travel arrangements,” she heard herself say, not
looking away from Jon’s face. Neither one of them were happy about it, but it was the most
logical thing they could do for now. “We leave as soon as possible.”

She found herself in the battle room in Dragonstone not long aer, changed into her dark gray
dress and looking at her closest advisors, only some of whom knew she’d just been married.
She caught the expression on Grey Worms’s face and she breathed a little easier, glad he’d been
told. He was entirely trustworthy.

“What would you do?” she asked Jon. “We have a large army and we need to move quickly.
How would you do it?”

He stared at the map for a moment. “If we have the Dothraki ride hard on the Kingsroad,
they’ll arrive in Winterfell in a fortnight,” he answered, pointing to the Kingsroad to show her
on the map.

“And the Unsullied?” she asked, interested.

“We can sail with them to Whiteharbor, meet the Dothraki here on the Kingsroad,” he pointed

on the map, concentrating on the task in front of him. “Then ride together to Winterfell.”

She looked to Ser Jorah, who had made a movement like he wanted to speak. “Perhaps you
should y to Winterfell, Your Grace,” he suggested grimly. “You have many enemies in the North.
Thousands fell ghting your father. It only takes one angry man with a crossbow. He’ll see your
silver hair on the Kingsroad and know one well-placed bolt will make him a hero. The man who
killed the conquerer.”

“It’s your decision, Your Grace,” Jon said when she looked at him. “But, if we’re going to be
allies in this war, it’s important for the Northerners to see us as allies. If we sail to
Whiteharbor
together, I think it sends a better message.” His eyes told her more of the story. Their
wedding wasn’t over yet. There was still the bedding. She knew it and he knew it.

She pretended to consider it, realizing all their eyes were on her. It became a battle against the
ush that threatened to rise to her cheeks. She could feel Tyrion’s gaze the most. He knew what
needed to be done, despite Ser Jorah’s legitimate protest, and it made him uneasy. She
wondered briey if it wouldn’t be wiser to postpone their bedding until they reached Winterfell,
but Jon’s concept of appearances and being seen as allies was just as important. She wouldn’t
lie
to herself, either. She wanted the King in the North in her bed. She wanted Jon to be wholly
hers.

Finally, she found the words she wanted to say. “I’ve not come to conquer the North, I’m
coming to save the North,” she corrected Jorah, then she looked at Jon fully. “We sail together.”
She hoped no one else heard the way her voice caught on the last word.

He nodded at her solemnly. Ser Jorah let out a sigh, and she realized he knew. Not about the
wedding, but that she had aection for Jon and had assumed that it was that aection that
inuenced her decision. Oh Jorah. You’re my dearest friend, but it could never be the way you
want it to be. She braced her hands on the table, avoiding everyone’s glances.

The rest of the aernoon ewby as she prepared for the journey, her thoughts always
wandering back to Jon. Was he looking forward to bedding her as much as she was?

He studiously kept from making eye contact with her as they boarded the dinghy, and he spoke
only briey to Ser Davos as they boarded the ship. He did, however, escort her to her cabin
before leaving her at the door, courteous yet distant. She searched his face, catching his eye for
a mere moment before he turned away to speak to Ser Davos about dinner. He’d escorted her
with purpose; he knew immediately which room was hers, if the Targaryen sigil wasn’t a dead
giveaway.

Missandei came to her later, aer she and Grey Worm had settled into their own shared
quarters. Daenerys was glad they’d moved forward so much, she knew how precious love
could be. She remembered loving Drogo, how it had felt to be near him every day. It felt
dierent with Jon, though. There was an incredible amount of mutual respect between them
that Dany had never had with anyone else.
“Should I put the extra pillows on the bed?” Missandei asked aer combing out and
redoing Dany’s braids for dinner.

Dany nodded. “We might need the extra blanket, too,” she answered. “It’s cold.” She chanced
a look in the mirror before she le the cabin. She looked tired, and her freckles stood out
more
without the sun to brown the rest of her skin. Viserys intruded into her mind again for a
moment, the way he’d sneer at her and tell her how ugly she was. “You were the ugly one,”
she whispered into the mirror. “You were ugly all the way to the bottom of your mad, empty
heart.” Purposely she turned her back to the mirror, eectively putting her brother behind her.

She escorted herself to dinner and had seated herself along with everyone else at the table
before she even noticed what had been served. Golden goblets lled with wine, roasted meats
and fruit, along with freshly baked bread were laid out before her. She looked up, surprised. It

was much better fare than she’d so far experienced while onboard a ship. Her eyes looked
around the table, then Tyrion joined her to her right. As he seated himself, he leaned toward
her
and whispered, “A celebration was insisted upon.” She looked from him to her plate, then
around the table once more. Jon was deep in his conversation with Ser Davos, but his eyes met
hers for a brief moment, and she understood. This was their wedding feast. She tried to smile
at him, but he simply raised his goblet of wine to her and waited for her to do the same. She
hesitated, unsure, but then the wine was in her hand and she took a tentative sip, their eyes
locked as he did the same from the opposite side of the table. Arbor gold. He’d done this for
her. It made her chest ache.

She managed to make small talk with Ser Jorah seated on her le for a few moments before
began discussing plans with Grey Worm. Tyrion distracted her with a tale of being a small child
he
at Casterly Rock, making her smile and ask questions. She managed to excuse herself before
anyone else had le the table, however. She wanted to be alone to collect herself, so she sent
Missandei back to the table when she tried to follow her.

She found one of her books that Ser Jorah had given her as a wedding gi when she wed Khal
Drogo. She settled herself in a chair in her room to read about the adventures of Ser Duncan
the Tall while she waited, enjoying the rare and quiet moment of being alone.
A knock on her door had her jumping slightly in her seat. She answered it, and Tyrion
stood there, looking at her. “All is well?” he asked.

She sighed, and nodded. “I think Missandei went to bed already,” she answered pointedly. “I’m
ready, too. It’s been . . . an eventful day.”

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded his head. “I’ll leave you to your rest then,
Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, then closed the door. Nothing le to do but
wait.

She ddled with the extra pillows, then moved to toss the extra blanket to the foot of the bed.

She hoped they would be keeping each other warm enough without it.

She heard Tyrion on the steps, talking. She couldn’t make out the words, just his voice. There
was a long pause, then he said something else. Another long pause, then a sharp knock at her
door. She could feel her heart rate pick up as she reached for the door handle, inwardly
cringing at how loudly the door opened. She looked down, expecting Tyrion to be back for
something else.

Hardened black leather boots and leather pants met her eyes. She raised her look. Jon. He was

looking at her that way again, the look that spoke volumes of sorrow and regret and love. He
looked like he wanted to say something, but his words were failing him. Out of the corner of
her
eye, she saw Tyrion near the stairway, watching. He was acting as their traditional witness. She
didn’t blink, not when she pushed the door open wide enough for him to come in, and not
until he reached out with one powerful arm and shut the door quietly, leaving Tyrion out in
the hallway to guard the door.

“You le early,” he said soly.

She nodded. “I wanted to relax a little before you came,” she explained. “Thank you
for
arranging dinner. It was wonderful of you to do that.”

He shrugged and smiled. “It’s my wedding, too. There’s really nothing better than good food
to celebrate, even when most of the people don’t realize they’re attending a wedding feast.”

She smiled at that, and he stepped so close to her she could smell the leather of his armor.
“Your smile is beautiful,” he whispered, bringing his mouth to hover over hers. “I hope I can
help you do it more oen, my wife.” She turned toward him and suddenly he was kissing her
with the passion she knew he’d been holding back.

She felt her back hit the door, jostling it on it’s hinges as he used the full front of his body to
pin her there, kissing her intensely. Daenerys relaxed against him, opening her mouth to
invite him in, and he dove for her as he tried to swallow her whole. She’d never felt a kiss like
it, not even Drogo’s. It was all consuming. He was pressing so hard against her that the back
of her head hit the door with a loud thud. He tried to pull away, but her hands were tangled
in his hair, holding him to her. He made a so sound of apology and then his hand was
cupping the back of her head, protecting her from the hard surface.

“There’s a bed in there,” Tyrion said, quite close to the door, his voice quite low and
nearly laughing. “Keep it down or this is not going to be a secret for long.”

Jon brought his knee up between her legs and let go of her head, never breaking the kiss,
but
grabbed her by the thighs and lied her o the ground. She was dizzy with the motion, but
suddenly the kiss was broken and she was falling, landing on her bed. She looked up at Jon,
who
was standing at the foot of her bed, unlacing his leather armor and dropping it on the oor. It
landed with a very audible thud, and Daenerys suddenly wondered how much the thing
actually weighed. He was staring at her, and she leaned up on her elbows to watch him for a
moment before she stood and reached for the fastening on her dress.

“Stop,” he whispered. She looked at him questioningly, but he kicked o his boots and came to
stand in front of her. “I want to do that,” he said soly.

“Oh,” she breathed out. She gestured toward his pants and shirt. “May
I?”
He nodded, a small smile playing about his lips. “First,” he whispered, “I’d like to kiss you again.”

She smiled then, and tilted her head up in invitation. This kiss was dierent than any of the

others. It was purposeful and gentle, but did nothing to hide his feelings. She felt his hands at
the back of her dress, tugging on the lacings. She reached back and pulled at the bottom,
feeling
the lacing slip free and the top come undone under her ngers. He pulled each of the sleeves
slowly, revealing her collarbone and the shi beneath. He sucked in a breath and backed up a
little to look at her for a moment before tugging her by the arms, holding her tightly, kissing
her gently along her neck.

“Jon,” she whispered, struggling to reach between them to untie his shirt. He moved slightly,
never stopping his attention to her exposed skin. She pushed him a little so she could pull
the shirt over his head, and he tossed it carelessly on the oor next to his armor. She reached
out

and traced her ngertips lightly across the scar on his chest. “Ser Davos wasn’t getting carried
away, was he?” she asked, searching his face.

He shrugged. “I was stabbed to death by my own brothers,” he admitted, looking down at

his chest. He pointed to the one she was touching. “A boy did that, Olly, a boy younger
than my brother Bran. I don’t know how I came back. I just know I did.”

She nodded, then stepped into his arms. She leaned over and kissed the scar gently. “However
it happened, I’m glad you did,” she said soly.

He nodded, then wrapped his arms around her waist. “It led me to you,” he answered. She
suspected he would have said more, but she reached up for him, tangling her ngers in his hair,
pulling him to her for another kiss. She felt his hands fumbling with her skirt, untying the back.
It slipped down to the oor, leaving her only in the so woolen shi she wore beneath her
clothes for a moment before he was untying that too, opening it at the collar and letting it
slide down her arms to the oor. She felt silly for feeling shy, but his opinion mattered more to her
than anyone else’s.

He was staring. Did he like what he saw? A moment’s glance told her that he did. He blew out
a
deep breath. “Daenerys,” he murmured reverently, his voice shaking slightly. “You are so
beautiful. Come here, Love.”

She nally let out the breath she’d been holding. “I’d hoped you would think so . . .” she began.

He grabbed her hand and pressed it against his front. Oh. He was hard, throbbing slightly
beneath her hand. “I do think so,” he answered, pulling her in for another kiss. His ngers ran
down her back, causing goosebumps to erupt over her entire body. No one had ever touched
her like that, like she was precious and so very loved.

She untied his pants while they kissed, pushing them down over his hips. He kicked them out of
the way. Together they unfastened his smallclothes, leaving him as bare as she was. She backed
up a step to see him, but he chased her, pulling her back in. “No,” she said against his mouth. He
yanked back from her sharply and stepped away from her, holding his hands up like he was
surrendering. “Oh,” she exclaimed soly. “No, I didn’t mean it like that! I just want to see you
the way you saw me,” she explained, reaching for him.

He came back to her slowly, his hands out to touch her. He ran his ngers down her arms, then
up her waist. She smiled at him, then took his hands in hers, placing them rmly over her
breasts. His eyes were trained on where his hands were, touching her gently, running his
thumbs over her nipples. It tingled all the way down to her sex. She looked up at his face.
“Jon,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer her with words. He caught her mouth in a deep kiss, sighing against her lips
as he turned them slightly, and he sat back on the bed, pulling her into his lap. He pulled her
ush against him, guiding her thighs around his waist, bringing his erection into direct contact
with her sex.

She gasped out loud at the sensation, pulling back from his kiss, biting his lower lip gently as she
did. She rocked her hips against him, hearing him let out a quiet moan, matching it with one of
her own. One rub, just a brief moment of contact with Jon felt better than Daario’s extended
hours of trying to please her. Jon pulled her back to his mouth, lacing the ngers of one hand
into her hair and splaying the other hand out across her low back to hold her still. She braced
her hands on his shoulders and repeated her motion, closing her eyes against the pleasure. She
was
nearly embarrassed at how ready she
felt.

“Easy, Daenerys,” he whispered against her mouth. “You feel incredible. I don’t want this ending
so fast. It’s been awhile.”

She pulled back to rest her forehead against his, trying to calm her breathing and get her
raging blood under control.

He lied her slightly and scooted back on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. He shied
their position, moving Daenerys to straddle one of his thighs in an attempt to cool them down
a little. He pulled her down to kiss her again, holding her behind her shoulders with one
hand, tangling the other in her silky hair.

Daenerys couldn’t stop moving. Her blood was on re, coursing through her veins like she would
burst into ame herself. Jon was trying to hold her still, trying to prolong it, but she pulled away
from his mouth, wanting to tell him they didn’t need to wait, she wanted him, that she wanted
him to lose control every bit as much as she felt she was losing hers. “Feel good?” was the only
coherent words she could form, partly to check if he was enjoying it as much as she was, and
partly to tell him she needed more.

She knew her message was received; Jon ipped them both over and he was suddenly
penetrating her, pushing into her, and she arched her back as best she could to receive him.
He
pulled back slightly, a gasp as he whispered “Yeah,” into her mouth, and then he was pushing
into her again, deeper this time, hitting the end of her, causing a deep aching pleasure to
burst within as he kissed her deeply.

She clung to him, holding him against her, but he was pulling back, leaving her mouth, and she
opened her eyes to look at him. He was staring down at her, his breathing slowing down
slightly as he simply looked at her. She took advantage of his pause to do the same, to look at
the man she’d married, the man she was nally allowing herself to fall in love with. She’d tried
so hard not to. He exhaled, something passing behind his eyes, and he whispered “Oh,” before
he came back down to her, pulling her into his arms, cradling her as he thrust into her, holding
her tightly, supporting them both with his forearms. One kiss blended into the next, and he
was whispering, “Love,” to her, trying his damnedest to bury himself in her as far as he could.
She managed to get her hands free, and she was suddenly touching him everywhere, his face,
his neck, digging her nails into his back as he kept hitting that spot inside her, tangling her ngers
in his hair. Air, she needed air, but he was kissing her so intensely she didn’t care much if she
could breathe, but she was relieved when he pulled back slightly, his breath coming out in gasps
and groans as he moved within her. She gripped his biceps for leverage so she could arch her
back, and then she was moving, burning up inside, feeling the ames burst within her as she
cried out, feeling Jon’s breath on her face before he covered her mouth with his to help her
keep quiet as he moaned out, her orgasm triggering his, the tell tale pulsing of his erection
deep within her as her pleasure nally began to ease.

She pulled away from his mouth then, seeing stars from lack of air. He trailed kisses down
her neck, not pulling out of her until he had soened, even then using his hands to keep her
legs around his waist. “Stay for a minute” he whispered.

“I will,” she whispered back, catching his lower lip for another sweet kiss, holding him
around the shoulders to keep him close.

He reached to the side and grabbed a pillow, managing to shove it under her hips. He
smiled lazily at her, then kissed her again. “I might have one more go in me,” he replied to
the questioning look in her eyes. “Maybe I’ll last longer than a few minutes next time.”

She was surprised. “That was only a few minutes?” she whispered. “I’d like more of your
few
minutes any time you have to spare them,” she teased.

“I’m sure you’ve had longer,” he observed, kissing her soly.

“I’m sure I have too, and I know it wasn’t as memorable as being with my husband,” she
answered, running her hands though his hair, smiling up at him, guileless, letting him see her,
the real Daenerys, the one she’d had to hide since she was small, the one she had to keep
carefully hidden from casual observers.
He smiled down at her. He saw her. He nuzzled noses with her as he whispered, “You are so
very beautiful, Daenerys.” He thrust up against her slowly, teasing her. “I’m nearly ready to
give this another go. Are you?”

Tangent Chapter 2

Daenerys woke long before sunrise, chilled from the lack of covering. She opened her eyes,
looking over to a still-sleeping Jon, who had the blanket buried beneath him as well as
covering him. She reached out and brushed one of his dark curls from his face so she could
see him better. He stirred soly, reaching for her in his sleep, making her smile. She caught his
searching hand and guided it to her bare hip, letting him pull her closer when he gripped her
and felt the chill on her skin. She found herself wrapped in his arms and she closed her eyes
again, enjoying the sensation of his warmth spreading through her as he sleepily pulled the
blanket over her.

“Not tired anymore?” he whispered, kissing her forehead soly before moving down to kiss her
lips.

“No,” she answered simply aer kissing him back. “It’ll be dawn soon, though. No time for more
play, I’m afraid.”

He sighed heavily, holding her tighter. “I’m sorry, Love,” he responded. “I hate leaving you every
morning like this.”
“It’s all right,” she answered, her voice mued in his chest. She kissed him on the throat. “It
’s not for much longer. I can be patient if you can.”

He squeezed her briey. “I’m counting the days,” he said quietly, burying his nose in her hair,
trying to commit her scent to his memory to last him the rest of the day.

She nodded. “I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t,” she

answered.

He pulled back to look at her for a moment, then kissed her soundly on the mouth, pulling her
upper lip between his. “That will have to do until tonight,” he whispered, then kissed her
again. “I’ll miss you.”

“Even when I’m only across the table,” she nished, smiling. The past two weeks had been the
same, and now it had become a part of their morning ritual.

“Even when I’m only across the table,” he answered. He suddenly pressed his lips to hers once
more, deepening the kiss for too brief of a moment before he pulled away again. “You have
the most beautiful smile,” he whispered. “I can’t resist your smile, Wife, please don’t ever
ask me to.” He kissed her again. “My Queen.”

“I’m glad my King thinks so,” she answered, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding him
tightly before letting him go. She looked toward the door. “Best get back to your own cabin,
Husband,” she added, then kissed him quickly before she rolled out of bed herself. She
turned, catching him admiring her bare backside. “Jon,” she chastised him quietly.

He sighed and got up, pulling on his clothes, then tied back his hair. He leaned over and
kissed her once more, a sweet one that held a promise. “See you tonight,” he said soly,
then le, closing her door quietly behind him.

She pulled her thick wool dressing gown around herself to keep the chill from creeping back
into
her bones, and then went back to her bed, pulling the blankets around her snugly. She buried
her face in Jon’s pillow and breathed deeply, letting his sleepy scent soothe her back to sleep
for a short time before Missandei came to wake her and get her ready for the day.

There was surprisingly little to do onboard the ship aer all the initial preparations and plans
had been made for their landing at White Harbor. Much less to do during the day than Dany
and Jon had found to do at night, at any rate. She read a little in her room, took most of her
meals in the galley with the rest of the passengers on the ship while carefully avoiding eye
contact with Jon, and walked the decks of the ship alone if Tyrion didn’t nd some means to
speak with her and distract her at least a little. Only a few days of this le, she’d told herself. Only
a few more days, then the rest of the journey will be on horseback. There won’t be any time
le for this kind of idling. She found she enjoyed being busy much more than sitting with
nothing to do, especially when it meant the day turned to night more quickly and she could
escape the rest of the world with Jon.

She excused herself from dinner that night before Jon even had a chance to arrive, her
appetite not enough to warrant a meal, and it had become a torment, watching him eat only
in small
glances as she tried to pretend she didn’t care. She wanted to sit next to him, touch him, talk
with him while they ate together. It would be a pleasure that would have to wait several
more weeks, wait until Daenerys could somehow earn the approval of Jon’s sisters and
brother, wait until they married yet again under the weirwood in the godswood of
Winterfell.

Daenerys wrapped her cloak about her more tightly as she walked, the deck cold and dark, the
snow falling around her and making the boards beneath her feet slippery and icy. She looked o
to the side, watching the dark waves rock the ship as they pressed ever closer to White Harbor.
She walked a few laps around the ship, enjoying the solitude despite the aching damp cold
that was beginning to seep into her muscles, making them ache.

She went quietly back to her room, closing the door behind her and hanging her icy and wet
cloak up on the peg behind it. “Where were you?” Missandei exclaimed soly, coming to
greet her.

Daenerys shivered. “I went walking,” she answered, unable to keep her teeth from
chattering.
“Where? On the bottom of the ocean?” Missandei demanded, stripping o Dany’s dress and
wrapping her in a wool blanket before attending to her wet hair.

“No,” she answered. “I just . . . I needed to walk and think and I lost track of time and then I
felt cold . . .”

“Wait here,” her friend commanded, leaving the room. Daenerys sat on her bed, bundled from
head to toe, and waited. She shivered violently, her ngers not able to grip the blanket tightly
enough to keep it around her. She closed her eyes, imagining herself back in Meereen, the heat
and sand of the Fighting Pit, Drogon’s re radiating out, setting the Sons of the Harpy on re, how
it had blasted against her cheek. Drogon. She felt warmth rising from her very core, stoking her
inner re. He had been her pride that day, taking her far away from Hizdahr and the pointless
death in the Pit, away from her enemies, away from Daario and Jorah and their endless
competition for her aections.

Missandei came back with a bowl of hot soup. “Drink,” she said authoritatively. “All of it.”

Daenerys glanced at her for a moment before bringing the bowl to her lips. A sharp knock at
her door called Missandei to open it. She had only opened it slightly before Jon was coming
in, nearly plowing over Missandei.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“Nothing happened,” she answered, frowning a little. “I went walking and got too cold,
that’s all.”

He looked from her to her dripping cloak in the corner. “You got wet, too,” he observed,
throwing his hands in a single downward gesture as though his hands were wet, too. “Daenerys
.
. .”

“It’s snowing,” she replied, then took a long drink of the soup, feeling the heat burn down
her
throat. “I’m all right, Jon. I won’t die. I’m just a little cold, that’s
all.”

When she nally looked up at him from her half empty bowl, he was clenching both his jaw and
his sts, nearly glowering at her. “I want to tell you to not do that again,” he began, his teeth
gritting together. “And I want to chastise you for acting like a child, but I won’t do either.
However, I will warn you. You’ve not experienced cold much, Daenerys. It can kill you. Much
the same way a hot desert can kill men. Maybe a desert wouldn’t kill you,” he remarked,
holding up his hand at her half formed protest. “But the cold can and will. Stay dry. Stay
warm. Even if you only do it for my sanity, promise me please.”

She pursed her lips, looking back down at her bowl, staring at a sliced carrot. “I promise,” she
answered shortly. She didn’t know whether to be indignant that he was speaking to her that
way or be happy that he obviously cared so much. She looked back up at him. “I didn’t realize
you’d be so . . .” she gestured at him as he stood there, clearly agitated and upset.

“Well, I am,” he retorted. “And now I need to consider other options for getting you to
Winterfell if you get sick.”

She sighed. How could she explain to him that she’d never been sick a day in her life except
aer she’d had Rhaego, and when she’d bled out Daario’s baby in the grass before Khal Moro’s
men had captured her? “Jon,” she began, but stopped. There would be another time for that
particular conversation, she was sure. “Let’s just see what happens before you waste time and
energy planning for something so unlikely,” she nished, trying to keep her tone even. “You’re
speaking to me as if I’d done this on purpose. I simply lost track of time and didn’t notice until
it was too late.” She was struggling to keep from scowling at him. “Although I’d really rather you
have a go at me than Ser Jorah, I’m far less than happy about it.”

He heaved a sigh, and Missandei took her leave, taking Dany’s sodden cloak with her. He came
and sat with her on the edge of the bed as she nished her bowl, taking it from her and setting it
on the table in the corner when she passed the empty bowl to him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Apology accepted,” she responded, looking down at her hands. “And I’ll thank you to not speak

like that to me again, Jon. I’m not an errant child for you to scold.”
He nodded. “I apologize for that, too,” he answered, keeping his voice low. He leaned over and
kissed her cheek. “I’ve got to go,” he whispered. “ Too many people saw me come in here. I’ll
come back later, and we’ll talk more. I love you, Daenerys. I’m glad you’re all right.” He stood
and picked up her empty bowl.

She looked up at his retreating back. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “Come back when
you can.”

He turned to look at her before he opened the door. “I will,” he promised. “Stay in here,
keep warm, be safe. Don’t put any undue stress on yourself right now.”

She felt a strange sense of . . . something. There was a denite meaning behind his words, an
undercurrent of urgency she couldn’t place. She nodded at Jon, who let himself out and
closed the door rmly behind him. Undue stress, he’d said.

She found a warm and light wool shi to pull on, and she carefully twisted her hair, wringing
out the last of the melted snow. She found a heavy blanket in the back of her cupboards, and
tossed it on the bed before she tucked herself in. She pulled the pillows around her, cocooning
herself in comfort and warmth. Under Jon’s pillow was one of hers. She tugged on it, realizing
it was the one he so oen propped under her hips when they made love.

Undue stress, he’d said. She looked down at the pillow. At rst, she thought it had been some
strange Northern thing, the way he tucked it beneath her nearly every time they made love,
but now her heart ached with her sudden and clear realization: He’d been attempting to get
her pregnant. Oh Jon. Her heart felt a sudden and paralyzing pain that throbbed and spread
up to her collar bone, cutting o her air for a split second before spreading to l her entire
chest all the way down to her empty womb. She turned her face away from the pillow and
began to cry. How wonderful it would be to have that kind of hope le. He hadn’t experienced
the loss of a child as she had now done thrice over. Grief like that never le one’s soul, no
matter how many ways one tried to l the void.

She allowed herself the rare luxury of her own tears. So much of her time she spent thinking
of
others and how to care for them, oen forgetting herself entirely and her own needs. She
cursed her inactivity on the ship, leaving room for her to have time for these thoughts. There
was nothing more to distract from her grief over the loss of Viserion. He’d been the sweetest
of her three, the last one to give up trying to roost on her shoulder though he’d long outgrown
it, the last one who clawed at her breast when she’d gently weaned them on the trek to
Qarth. She remembered him in Meereen, lazing at the top of the great pyramid, laying his head
in her lap
and snoring soly as she stroked his cream and golden scales, singing to him in High
Valyrian where there was no one else to hear.

She calmed herself aer only a few minutes. How did she bring it up to Jon that she knew what
he’d been up to? Should she? She needed to – her heart couldn’t take it – she needed to say
something, needed him to stop. She couldn’t bear it, his hope for her, for them. She would tell
him about the unnamed baby she lost on the Dothraki Sea, the truth about Rhaego. It was folly
to try for a baby, even if they weren’t about to ride into a war. If she were to become pregnant,
it would be impossible to convince anyone she could ride Drogon into battle. Jon was holding
on too hard to a hope he needed to let go. Daenerys began to cry all over again until she
couldn’t

any longer, and so completely spent, she fell into a warm, deep sleep where there were
no dreams.

When Jon came to bed, he simply moved the blankets slightly and shied one of the pillows
for his own use without disturbing her slumber. She needed all the sleep she could possibly
get. If he’d already been successful, the road ahead was going to be even more dicult for
her in the weeks to come.

He propped himself up on one elbow to watch her sleep, the one candle illuminating her face
about to sputter and die, so he’d le it to burn out on its own. Daenerys. She looked ushed, a
little . . . dierent. He couldn’t quite place it. He reached out to touch her, unable to resist,
running the back of one nger against her cheek. She felt overly warm. He placed his whole
hand on her face, feeling her skin burning beneath his palm.

Quickly, he grabbed the heavy blanket and pulled it o her. She mumbled in her sleep, seeking
him out and then curling up in his arms. Aer only a few minutes, she felt noticeably better
as she cooled to a normal human temperature and he breathed a sigh of relief. He shied a
little, easing one arm under her head so she could use it as a pillow, wrapping the other
around her waist and pulling her into him, holding her close. He kissed her temple gently,
hoping all his
movement wouldn’t wake her.
He woke some time later when she shied in his arms to lay on her back. Her shi had ridden up
to her waist, and he couldn’t resist – he ran his hand up inside it to gently cup her breast. She
hummed in her sleep, but didn’t move. He ran his palm down her belly to just below her navel.
He prayed to gods he only half believed in, prayed for them both to have just this one thing. He
moved his hand back up her body as he prayed. He would be overjoyed with a healthy baby,
but if he could put in a request . . . he’d wish for a lovely little girl with Dany’s hair and the
Stark grey eyes . . . An heir. A beloved, desperately wanted child to hold and love.

Suddenly, Daenerys was turning in his arms, wrapping her arm around his neck and nuzzling
his bearded chin. “Stop,” she sighed into his neck sleepily. “Sleep, Jon. We’ll speak later.”

Stunned, he removed his hand from her skin. She’d never rejected his advances in their bed
before. He leaned closer and kissed her forehead soly. “I love you,” he whispered. She hummed

soly in response, and he assumed she’d gone back to sleep. He held her gently for a long
moment, closing his eyes to follow her into sleep. He dried o.

“How could you?” she suddenly whispered against his neck, a heartbroken
sound.

He was wide awake at that. “How could I what?” he asked, incredulous. He thought back to
the last thing he’d said to her. “How could I love you, is that what you’re asking me?”

She held him tightly for a moment, then let him go before she sat up in bed. “No, how
could you . . . you were trying to . . .” she couldn’t nish.

He was genuinely confused. “I don’t understand what you’re saying,” he said quietly, opening
his arms. “Daenerys, come here, Love.” She was hurting, oh gods she was hurting, he could see
it on her face, hear it coming from deep within her soul.

“No,” she whispered, choking back her sob. “I don’t want to.” She pulled her knees up to her
chest, holding herself. She looked so incredibly small and crushingly sad that Jon couldn’t
help but reach for her again. “I said no,” she repeated, her voice suddenly cold and sure.
He froze. His mind and heart raced. “Should I leave? I don’t know what’s happening right now,
but if you need me to go, then I will,” he said gently. He waited for her to answer, but she stared
at her knees, blinking back tears. “Tell me what I’ve done wrong, Love,” he coaxed. “I can’t x it
if I don’t know what I’ve done.”

She raised her eyes to his. Lavender met grey, and he felt her pain. He could feel it in his chest.
He exhaled slowly, trying to expel some of the ache. “You . . . you’re carrying around a
dangerous hope, Jon Snow,” she nally said. “A hope that I can’t allow to grow.”

“You’re angry that I’m hoping . . . what?” he asked, incredulous. “What is this hope
you’re accusing me of?”

“Don’t pretend, not with me,” she responded slowly, her hurt and rage making her voice
shake slightly. “Not ever.”

He stared at her silently for a few minutes, struggling to think what she could possibly
mean before it dawned on him. He’d just been praying for . . . “Oh,” he whispered, the
realization sinking into his bones.

“I can’t, Jon. I’ve warned you twice, and now I will repeat it for the last time. I cannot have
children. Allowing that kind of hope into our bed will destroy me. I can’t have you coming to
me with that kind of . . . I won’t. My heart can’t take it.” She looked like she was crying, but
her words were steady and even. “Either kill it in your heart or stop coming to me at night,
Jon.”

An ultimatum. They’d been married less than three weeks and already it had come to that.
Shit.

“What if I can do neither?” he asked soly.

“You’re going to have to choose,” she said simply, coldly. “There’s no room in here for anything
else.”
He let out the breath he was holding. “All right, then,” he answered slowly, then got up from
the bed. He faced away from her as he pulled on his clothes and boots, and didn’t turn to look
back at her aer he fastened his cloak about his shoulders. “It’s cold out. You might want that
extra blanket on the oor,” he said to the door, then le her room without wasting another
moment.

Once back in his own cabin, he threw his cloak on the oor in a t of rage. Fire burned hotly in
his gut, but he had no more time to deal with it before she was letting herself into his room,
closing the door rmly behind her.

“Sit down and listen to me,” she commanded angrily, her voice low and lled with anger. He
looked at her for a long moment without saying a word, taking in the sight of his wife in full
rage. Stupidly, his rst thought was how gloriously beautiful she looked, wrapped in her cream
colored wool dressing gown, eyes on re, face ushed.

He did as she commanded, sitting down in the nearest chair. “I’m listening,” he
answered sullenly.

She blinked her tears back ercely. “That witch, the one who killed Khal Drogo? She didn’t kill
him. I did,” she hissed out. “She brought him back from the dead by killing our son, Jon. My
unborn son.” She sucked a deep breath. “Blood magic brought back a barely breathing
corpse. My son’s life paid for that before he’d even le my womb. He died before I birthed
him, and I ended Drogo’s life once more by smothering him aer I buried our son. I couldn’t
bear to see
him like that. He would have hated me for allowing it to happen in the rst place if he would
have been able to form a coherent thought. Then she cursed me, cursed my bleeding,
empty
womb. Blood magic, Jon.” She looked away for a moment, then locked eyes with him again. “I
bled out another baby in the grass of the Dothraki Sea no more than a year ago.” He was
struck silent. He hadn’t known that. He hadn’t known any of it.

“My heart can’t do this, Jon.” It was as if she were pleading with
him.

Dumbly, he sat staring at her, this woman he’d married, a woman who had lived a nightmare
only to be delivered into another, over and over again.
Tears ran freely down her face. “Say something, Jon,” she choked out in a whisper, begging him.
“If this means the end of us because you need an heir, please say it. I swear to you I won’t hold
it against you.”

He was too stunned to say anything at all. He simply stared at her, trying to absorb what she
had been trying to tell him from the start, how she had been sparing his feelings all this time
by abbreviating her past. Gods above and below.

Suddenly she was turning away, leaving him. “Daenerys, stop!” he exclaimed, jumping to
his feet. “Don’t leave. Not like this.”

She stopped at the door, hand already on the handle. She let out a deep breath and let her
hand
drop to her side before she turned around. His heart shattered at the look in her eyes. She
looked defeated and lost. No, no, no, no. Not Daenerys Stormborn. Not my beautiful Queen.
Not my Love.

“I love you, Daenerys,” he said soly, desperately.

“And I you, Jon,” she whispered back. “With all of my heart. And yet, I don’t think even that
can save us now.” She turned and le his cabin without another word.

We’re fucked. He sat back down in the chair and buried his face in his hands, desperately trying
to pull himself together and even more desperately struggling to nd a way to x the mess he’d
managed to make of his two and a half week marriage. He had to x this, but not now. It was
the middle of the fucking night and another trip to her door was not likely to go unnoticed on
this fucking ship, especially if she’d made any noise when she’d returned to her own cabin.

Privacy was not something they were going to have any time soon, the one thing they
desperately needed. He stared down at his hands, the callouses from handling a sword
standing
out, the dened whorls and lines on the skin looking similar to storm clouds in the sky. They
looked like his father’s hands. He swallowed tightly. He stood and looked around the small cabin,
searching for some sort of answer. He clenched his sts at his sides to keep from putting his st
through a wall. He couldn’t lose her, not now, not ever. There was no right answer. He had to let
her be, even for just a few more days. It wouldn’t make anything better to go aer her right
then, as upset as they both were. Nothing good could come of it. He would have to wait.

Tangent Chapter 3

 A/N. Long chapter. Sex at the end. Don’t go there if you don’t want to.

So, um, I didn’t expect this story to be so well liked. I thought I could just do a one shot
and leave it at that and that it would disappear into the depths. Thank you so much for
all your encouraging words. That’s why I write.

It was dark when she woke, the brazier in her tent unable to ght either the darkness or the
freezing temperatures. Daenerys couldn’t remember her tent ever being so cold. She shivered
in her bed despite the furs and blankets surrounding her; it didn’t seem to matter how many
she put under or over her. She could hear voices and horses in the camp despite the very
early/very late hour, she didn’t know which it was anymore. The days were notably shorter,
what daylight there was le was weak and blocked by clouds heavy with snow.

Surely there were res lit if people were talking out there this early, Dany reasoned. She rose

from her bed and fastened her heaviest cloak around her shoulders. She didn’t bother
for bed anymore, preferring the warmth of her clothes over changing in the frigid cold
dressing
that
permeated everything, and as it had been nearly a week since Jon had last shared a bed with
her anyway, there was really no need to change. They hadn’t spoken since the night of their
ght, and as much as Daenerys missed him, she couldn’t bring herself to budge. He’d studiously
avoided her as they rode during the day, not even bothering to look her way when they made
camp at night. Even her despair couldn’t move her to speak to him.

Stepping outside aer pulling her boots on, she pulled the fur hood up over her hair, trying to
preserve as much of her body heat as she could. She walked around the camp, nodding to
those who bowed at her approach. Aer several minutes, she found Jon standing near a re
with several of her Dothraki kos as they drank agons of ale, Ser Davos looking on while Ser
Jorah translated well enough for a decent conversation. She sighed inwardly at her conicting
emotions. She both desperately craved his presence and was equally pained by it. How could
you, Jon? Her heart thudded in her chest, the ache making her swallow reexively.

She approached slowly, giving them time to notice her, giving Jon time to decide whether he
wanted to stay in her presence or not. Lako saw her rst and leaned over past Jon to grab
another pint for her. Jon turned in time to watch her bare hand reach out and take it from Lako’s
gloved one. “Khaleesi,” Lako greeted her.

She saw Jon open his mouth as though he was going to protest, but a simple warning glance
and a shake of her head deterred him. Good. Barren women were entitled to drink whatever
they wanted, no matter what their husbands might think. She drank deeply before smiling at
Lako in thanks.

“What has you awake at this hour?” Jon asked her politely, too politely, taking a drink from his
own cup.

She shrugged, then took another drink, mirroring him. “Too cold to sleep,” she nally answered,
staring at the re. She could feel a whisper of warmth from it caress her face. It was better than
nothing.

Lako made some crude comment about how there weren’t enough women to keep
everyone’s

beds warm, and so men were resorting to drinking and ghting to stay warm.
Daenerys smiled at that, then told him that he complained like an old woman, so he should
probably crawl into bed with Varo. She nodded toward another warrior. Varo, in turn, clicked his
teeth at her and grinned, making a comment that Lako had an ass like an old woman, too, so
he’d better keep moving to another bed.

She relayed the jist of their conversation to the Westerosi, but when Varo pointed out she
should take a man into her bed to stay warm, she hesitated a moment. Not bothering to
translate, she
red back with how a Khaleesi was quite a bit more selective about bedmates than a horse
humping Khal. The Dothraki began to laugh, shoving each other as she snickered a bit
before taking another drink.

She chanced a look at Jon as Ser Jorah stepped in to translate her words for the rest of the
men, and she couldn’t tell if he was about to laugh or cry. She immediately felt guilty.

Jon drained his cup and set it down on a nearby stump. “Nearly time to get moving again.
We’ll likely catch the rest of the Dothraki today if we press hard enough. That is, if we can
keep pace with you, Khaleesi.” He turned to walk away.

Something about his tone made her feel incredibly sad. “Jon, wait,” she said soly.

“Walk with me,” he invited, his tone sharp and businesslike.

She pulled her fur hood up again; it had slipped down as she’d drunk her ale, hiding her hair
as they walked. “I’m sorry, Jon,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have baited you like that. It
wasn’t fair.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he answered. “If anything, I’m the one who should be sorry. I
disregarded your feelings for my own selsh reasons.”

“I just can’t stand to see you hope for something that can never be,” she pointed out.
“My
feelings on the matter have long since been sorted.” she stated. “Do I wish it could be dierent?
With all of my heart, yes I do, but that’s not how this works, despite all the prayers, dreams,
hopes, and tears we use to wish for the opposite.”

“Then what dierence does it make in how I feel about it?” he gritted out, stopping to grab her
by the shoulders.

She saw two of her Dothraki kos start toward them, weapons drawn. “Jon, people are
watching us,” she hissed out, reaching up and pushing his hands o her, waving away her
guards. “You’re being reckless.”

He let go of her and kicked a pile of snow in frustration. She reached out and put a gentle
hand on his arm, making him stop and look at her. He looked down to her bare hand on his
coat, her knuckles pink with cold. “When we stop tonight, we’ll be able to disappear into
the Dothraki camp,” she said slowly and quietly, looking furtively from side to side, seeing
people watching them from the tents and res that surrounded them, mindful of Ser Jorah at
their backs. “We will have a few hours to talk then, I promise. For now . . . ” she paused,
taking a deep breath, locking eyes with him and inducing him to do the same. “For now, be
calm for me, Husband.
We’ll resolve this . . . thing between us.” He looked up at her face, unable to read it, though
immensely relieved to hear her call him her husband, especially now. She smiled suddenly.
“We have watchers, Jon,” she whispered. She looked directly into his pained eyes. “I miss you,
even when I’m only across the table,” she whispered soly, lovingly, purposefully.

It was balm to his tired soul, and he relaxed a little at her use of their code, the words she
hadn’t spoken to him in nearly a week. He hadn’t lost her aer all. Everything would be all right
as long as he didn’t lose her. They would be able to steal away for a few hours – more time
than they’d managed to have in the past several weeks. Maybe there would be enough time
to make love with her aer they talked this all through. Maybe.

He took o his fur lined gloves and pressed them into her bare hands. “I don’t know where yours
got o to, but take these,” he said soly. “Keep your hands covered, Love. The frost will hurt you.”

She smiled and looked down at the gloves in her hands. “I forgot mine in the tent,” she
admitted.
She slipped the too large gloves on her hands. “Thank you, Jon. I’ll return them
later.”

He shrugged. “I’ve got more,” he said, turning to walk away. “See you tonight, then.”

She nodded. “I’ll nd you,” she answered, but he was already too many steps away for him to
have heard her. She looked down at her hands, buried in Jon’s heavy gloves. Even when they
were ghting, he was trying to take care of her. How . . . husbandly of him.

As she walked back toward her tent, she allowed herself a moment to remember her hrakkar
pelt from Khal Drogo, how the massive white lion’s fur had covered her entire body. That was
dierent than this, though. Drogo had gied it to her aer he’d killed it as bragging rights. A
trophy kill for his trophy bride. She wished suddenly she hadn’t le it behind in Meereen, but
she also knew that it was better that she had. All children had to give up their security
blankets at some point. She looked down at her hands again. Or did they simply replace
them?

Grey Worm was standing outside her tent when she returned. “How long have you been
out here?” she asked, worried. “Where’s Missandei?”

He shrugged. “I come to wake you instead,” he said simply. “We have orders for early march
today.”

“We do,” she agreed. “We’ll meet with the Dothraki today if all goes as planned.” She stepped
closer to him and looked o to the side. “I need for Jon and I to . . . disappear for a few hours,
my
friend. I thought maybe into the Dothraki camp tonight. We need to discuss some
private matters.”

He looked down at her and nodded. “That won’t be hard to do, My

Queen.”

She sighed and smiled at him. “I’d hoped you’d say that. Thank you.”
The camp was packed up entirely in the early morning darkness, and they rode for several
hours in the dark before the weak, watery daylight of Winter began to clear the view ahead.
As they came over a rise, a scout came riding back toward the royal party leading the
Unsullied.

“We will meet with the Dothraki there,” he announced, pointing directly
West.

Daenerys nodded, then looked to Jon. “Exactly how you said it would work out,” she
commented. He did nothing more than nod once in acknowledgement. “When the two
armies meet, we’ll continue until nightfall,” she commanded the scout. “And then we’ll rest.”

It was less than easy to ride next to Jon all day without speaking to him more than was
absolutely necessary. He’d avoided riding with her at all before now, but since the initial steps
had been taken to work on the issue, it made it doubly dicult. However, being next to him
gave her time to actually think about what actions would resolve it instead of simply trying to
avoid the pain. Would it indeed be better if they simply renounced their claim on each other?
That thought hurt her just as much as knowing she couldn’t bear him any children. It might be
better for Jon though, especially if he wanted children, but for her part, she was committed to
making their alliance work. She asked herself what exactly had he done that hurt her most?
Was it the disregard of her knowledge of the situation? Yes. Was it the way he thought he
could somehow prove her wrong? Yes. Was it the sex itself? Emphatic no. She loved him deeply
and the last thing she wanted was for him to fall into the same heart wringing despair that had
overtaken her.
She’d tried to protect him from it by warning him, but he’d done the things without her
consent or understanding, and it had felt like a betrayal of trust. She’d trusted him to believe
her, and he’d tried to undermine it at the rst opportunity.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that she had expected him to act out of character about it. Jon
was the champion of lost causes and impossible tasks. His very life had depended upon it on
more than one occasion in her recent memory. She realized this made her just as culpable as
he when it came to betrayed trust.

Guiltily, she stole a glance at the man riding next to her. His eyes were on the road ahead of
them, steadily concentrating on getting them all to Winterfell safely. Or was he focused on
simply getting them to a safe camp for the night? She wondered if he’d spent as little time as
she had on actually thinking on the problem, or if he’d been as wrapped up in his own hurt
feelings to properly analyze it. She glanced at him again. He’d given her the time and space she
needed,
and it looked like he’d done it at great personal cost. Yet another way she’d demanded he go
against his own character for her. I’m so sorry, Jon.

It was if he’d heard her. He looked over at her and gave her a sad smile. Her heart sped up, and
it took an enormous amount of willpower to not reach her hand out to grab his. She needed it
more than anything else in the world, just a squeeze of reassurance, a little bit of his warmth.
She settled for smiling back a little. She hoped he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “Later,”
he said, keeping his voice low enough that only she could hear him. It was enough. She
could breathe a little easier again.

Camp was made that night on a sloping hill directly o the Kingsroad, the Dothraki eciently
building tents and res before the Unsullied could even all arrive. Daenerys stayed on her horse,
watching the thousands of tents appear as if by magic, the res glowing and sending up light into
the darkness. She rode through the camp, greeted as a great Khal, whoops and whistles and
yells as she rode through, and before long, she could smell food. Her stomach rumbled,
reminding her she’d only eaten a hard biscuit and some dried horsemeat at some point during
the short daylight hours. First, she needed to nd Jon.

She rode through to the other side of the camp to where the Unsullied were establishing
theirs. She could see a few of the great pavilion style tents of the Northmen being raised, so
she rode around them, nding Jon standing near one of them with Ser Davos and Ser Jorah.
They looked at each other for a moment, and then she turned her horse back to the Dothraki
camp as Grey Worm pulled Jon aside, speaking with him alone.

She found her tent near the center of the Dothraki camp. It wasn’t nearly as big as the one
she’d shared with Khal Drogo, and not for the rst time she was glad that particular one had
gone up in the re when she returned him to the Nightlands. This tent was her own, with only
her things in it, and it was far more comfortable than a larger one would have been. Easier to
hide, too. No one would care or really notice Jon coming to see her in the chaos of drinking
riders and laughing warriors sparring against each other. In truth, she’d missed the constant
noise of being camped with her riders. She had a lot of memories of the Dothraki Sea, many
more good than terrible. She would never be alone while with them, not unless she chose to
be, and it comforted her immensely.

One of her loyal men waited for her to dismount before unsaddling her horse, taking the
prized
leather saddle and placing o to one side in her tent to keep it dry. He slapped her horse’s
rear and sent the mare o to the rest of their herd to graze and rest until morning before he
wandered o for food himself.

She went inside and looked around in relief. Extra braziers had been lit. It would be warm
soon. She stripped o Jon’s gloves and felt the air around her with her face and hands,
enjoying more external warmth than she’d had since they’d le the ships in White Harbor. She
tossed her cloak onto the bed. It would be a wonderful extra blanket for the night. She would
be warm.

Her stomach rumbled again, and she sighed. She’d have to leave and go seek out food, and it
would be no small task. If she stopped by any re to eat, the crowd would grow and she
wouldn’t be able to slip away with her dinner without participating in at least a few verbal
sparring matches with her cocky riders, and she wasn’t in the mood for it anymore. She
wanted food and the quiet of her tent with just her and Jon.

Suddenly, he was ducking inside her tent as if her imagination had conjured him. He stood for a
moment, looking at her. He smiled soly at her, and unbuckled his cloak. “I’ve come bearing
gis,” he said quietly, pulling out a sack he was hiding behind him with one hand beneath the
heavy fur. “It’s not much, but Missandei was able to put it together for us so we didn’t have to
go
nd something ourselves if we didn’t want to.” He handed it to her, and she opened it. Roasted
meat and some cheese with bread and apples. She hoped the sealed container within held
wine.

“Thank you,” she breathed, inhaling the rich smell of the roasted . . . rabbit? She couldn’t
remember the last time she’d eaten rabbit. Her stomach rumbled again. “I was trying to gure
out how to get food in here without all the . . . ” she gestured toward the tent opening.
“Without it being an ordeal.”

He smiled down at her, and grabbed a few cushions from the pile on the carpeted ground.
“Let’s eat rst, then we’ll talk?” he asked.

“Only if I can sit next to you,” she answered quietly, taking a cushion from him and tossing it near
the base of the table before settling herself down on it. “I’ve wanted to eat with you for a long

time.”
He looked at her oddly as he sat next to her. “We ate together every night,” he
answered.

She kept her eyes locked on his as she purposefully leaned against him and picked up a bite of
the meat, and broke it in took one bite, then brought the other to his mouth. She smiled as he
ate it, enjoying his face when he nally understood what she’d meant. “Like this,” she whispered.
“We can talk while we eat if you like. I wouldn’t mind.”

“You’re sure?” he asked hesitantly.

“I’m sure,” she conrmed. “I’ve had enough time now to think this through, and I’m not as angry
as I was. I’m hurt and sad, but not in pain anymore. I can talk.”

“I’m so sorry,” he rushed out. “I should have considered your feelings more. I don’t know why
I didn’t think you’d catch on; you’re one of the smartest people I know, Daenerys.”

She reached out and laid her hand on his neck. “I’m sorry for expecting you to just let it
drop, Jon. That wasn’t fair of me, either. You’ve lived your whole life doing the impossible.
This was
 just one more thing on your list.”

He picked up a piece of the cheese and a bit of bread, breaking it in half and feeding some to
her carefully. “I should have been much more considerate, Daenerys. I ought to have given you
the
benet of the doubt, at the very least.”

She nodded at that, swallowing her food. “I would have appreciated that,” she agreed. “I felt
that you didn’t trust my credibility. I may be many things to many dierent people, but I am not
a liar and I was not issuing you a challenge.”

“I did take it as a challenge,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for keeping away from you for so long,” she whispered, brushing a curl back from
his face. “It hurt you.”

He stared at the table thoughtfully for a long moment. “Maybe it’s better you did, though. We
wouldn’t be having this conversation right now and calmly discussing this if I’d kept pushing
you to talk before you were ready. We’d probably still be ghting.”

“I don’t want to ghtwith you, Jon,” she whispered tearfully. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” he answered, pulling her toward him slightly to kiss her temple soly.

“My position still stands, however,” she warned him as she leaned into his arms.

“I expected nothing less,” he answered. “And I think I really understand it now. Can you forgive
me, my wife?”

“Only if you can do the same for me,” she whispered. “Forgive me for not being able to give
you what you want.”

He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands, making her hold his gaze. “It’s not your fault.
I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“That’s why you need to kill the hope for the impossible, Jon. If you keep hoping, eventually
you will come to resent me for it,” she explained quietly. “No matter how hard we try to not let
it end that way.”

He began to protest, but stopped and considered her words for a long moment, realizing
the truth of what she was saying. “You’re probably right,” he nally conceded.
“You’re being a lot more reasonable than I thought you would,” she said soly.

“I’ve always thought myself to be a reasonable sort of man,” he answered. “Would it

be reasonable for me to stay for awhile? It’s warm in here, and I like the company.”

Dany smiled and leaned fully against him, letting her body melt into his as they nished eating
quietly. “I’d like that, Jon,” she answered.

“Anything else you’d like?” he asked, holding her tightly against his side. He felt her grab his hand
and tangle their ngers together.

Daenerys pulled away from him just enough to look at him, rising up onto her knees to do so,
their noses inches apart. She kissed him gently on the lips. “I’d like . . . a hot bath.” Kiss. “A
real
replace.” Kiss. “Someplace quiet with a big bed in it,” she whispered against his lips before
kissing him a nal time.

He chuckled at that. “Something reasonable,” he reminded her. “You can have all those
things the very day we set foot in Winterfell, but none of them right now at this moment.”

She looked up at him, her eyes barely needing to do more than ick slightly upwards from his
lips. He melted at her lavender gaze. Her eyes held all the answers. “I can think of a few
things
that only the King in the North could do for me,” she said soly. “If he were willing.”

He grabbed her upper arms, pulling her tightly to him. “Oh, your King is willing, My Queen.”
He pressed his lips to hers, pulling her upper lip between his, capturing her for a moment
before releasing her. “It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” he asked, his question lled with meaning.

“Maybe a little,” she whispered, smiling at him. “Likely warmer if we moved over there.”
She gestured toward her bed. “It might be big enough for the both of us. We’ll have to try
it and see.”
He eyed her bed, an unreadable look on his face when he turned back to her. “Now I know
why you were so cold at night,” he sighed. “Don’t sleep on a bed so high o the ground,
Daenerys. The cold gets beneath it and you can’t ever get rid of it that way. Best to make a
spot on the ground so no air can get under you. Here,” he eased her out of his lap and onto
the cushions. He stood up and went to her bed, pulling everything o it and turning the frame
on it ’s side against the wall of the tent. He pulled an extra of her thick wool rugs over the spot
her bed had been so
it was two deep and then spread out two layers of furs on top of it, then used the rest for
blankets. “There. We’ll use this tonight. I promise it’ll be warmer.” He shook his head a little.
“I
knew I should have checked before we went to bed that rst night out of White Harbor. It
bothered me for days, not knowing how you were prepared for the cold. I’m sorry, Love. I
should have le my pride at the door and made sure you were warm.”

She looked up at him, her throat aching at his regret. “I don’t think it would have ended well
if you’d come to see my bed and not me that rst night out. I was still pretty mad at you then.”

He looked down at his feet, then back at her. “Yeah, probably wouldn’t have,” he agreed. “But
I should have checked just the same.”

First the gloves and now this. Husbandly. Even when they were angry at each other, he’d
been worried about her. “Maybe I should just not sleep alone anymore,” she suggested
quietly.

Outside, it sounded as though the party was nally getting started, loud raucous laughter as
steel hit against steel. Jon was up and about to go out before she could stop him. “Jon,” she
hissed, lucky enough to have grabbed the edge of his leather armor to stop him. “It’s all right.
They’re play ghting. They do that.” He looked at her, alarmed and ready to pull his weapon,
making her laugh. “It takes some getting used to, but it’s all right. They’ll go at it for hours. I
told you this was a good place to disappear for awhile. I doubt they even know I’m in here right
now.” She stood up and went to him, pulling him back from the opening before lacing it shut
completely. “There. Safe and sound now.”

She turned to look at him and he grabbed her around the waist, kissing her deeply, wasting
no time in penetrating her mouth. Willingly, she gave back as good as he was giving,
humming in the back of her throat with pleasure, reaching to unbuckle his armor as he
pulled her against him. She broke away from him only when she couldn’t focus on the task at
hand, her hands too uncoordinated to handle it. Jon laughed a little as he recaptured her lips,
pulling at the buckles
and undoing them before breaking away to pull it over his head. “I’m going to start taking
that o as soon as I walk in the door,” he whispered against her.

“Please do,” she answered against his lips, pulling on the lacing on his jerkin
underneath, pushing it o his shoulders while he unfastened the back of her dress.

It felt like mere moments before he was guiding her down onto her new makeshi bed, settling
her soly on top of the furs. He knelt over her, his eyes wandering over her body. “Gods, I’ve
missed you,” he groaned out, coming to hover over her and kiss her again. She pulled him
tightly against her, holding him for a moment before letting him go to kiss him again. He pulled
back to look at her.

“Don’t wait,” she whispered.

“I’m not,” he assured her, kissing his way down her throat to her breasts. “Just . . . be patient for
a minute,” he whispered against her nipple before sucking it into his mouth and gently tugging
at it with his teeth. He grinned as he felt her ngers run through his hair as he moved to the
other side, giving the same treatment to the other breast, loving the sound of her whimper. He
began to kiss down her abdomen, running his tongue over her navel, making her jerk and
giggle before he kissed her skin soly. “I love you,” he whispered, seeing her watching him,
mirth in her eyes.

“I love you, Jon,” she whispered back, lacing her hand together with one of his. “Now come up

here.”

He grinned and pulled his hand from hers. “Patience,” he whispered, then moved lower, using
his newly free hand to grip the top of her thigh. He looked down as he blew air soly over her
curls before spreading her swollen nether lips open to look at her. He looked up to see her
eyes
xated on him, so he kept eye contact with her as he lowered his face and licked her soly. He
grinned at her gasping breath. “You taste amazing,” he whispered, then broke eye contact
with her to look down at what he was doing.

Daenerys could barely do more than grip the furs beneath her and moan, Jon’s tongue icking
back and forth, up and down, searching for what felt best to her by judging her responses. He
nally settled in with slow licks followed by gentle suckling as she whimpered and arched her
back o the bed to meet his mouth, one of her hands nding purchase in his hair. He teased her
entrance with his tongue, rubbing up and down as she began to moan, then he brought his
hands to her hips and lied her into his mouth, reaching into her as far as he could go. He
groaned at the rich taste of her, pulling her closer, holding her tighter.

“Jon,” she whimpered, her breaths coming fast and shallow. “Jon, I’m close.”

He moaned into her, knowing it already, feeling her getting warmer and wetter the more he
pushed his tongue into her, in and out. He thrust into the furs to give himself some relief,
feeling her tense beneath him, arching her back as she held her breath, and he held onto her,
holding her still as he moved faster, feeling her pulse and throb around his tongue as she
came, the back of her hand over her mouth to keep as quiet as she could.

He licked at her gently before backing o,letting her relax a little as he eased her down onto
their bed. He moved up her body, kissing her everywhere his lips could reach, loving the
feeling of her grasping his shoulders and running her ngers down his back, her legs coming up
and clinging to his hips. His cock nudged at her, feeling her so, wet heat and he couldn’t help
the involuntary twitch. Gods, she was everything he’d ever wanted.

He kissed her slowly, groaning into her mouth as one so hand worked into his hair and the
other stroked his side, pressing ngers into his skin, holding him to her, pulling at him. He rose
up on his elbows to look at her for a moment, ushed and beyond beautiful, watching her face
as he sank into her slowly. “I’ve missed you, Love,” he whispered again, then he was back to
her mouth, kissing her ercely as he began to move within her, holding her tightly to his chest
as he did.

She pushed at him slightly, and he let her go, holding himself up on his hands while she moved
under him restlessly. She pulled back, making him withdraw from her. He sat back on his heels,
wondering what she wanted. “Lay back,” she whispered breathlessly, pushing him to lay back
on the furs. He did as she told him, watching her as she knelt up and then mounted him,
sinking down on him again immediately.

His hands went to her hips, gripping her tightly as she began to move. She was trying to kill
him.
He would die from sensory overload, her taste and scent on his lips, watching her face and her
breasts and the graceful roll of her hips . . . gods, she was hot inside, slippery and muscular and
perfect. Her so sighs of pleasure were his undoing. He gritted his teeth. “Stop, stop, oh gods,
Daenerys, stop,” he managed to choke out before it was too late. He stilled her hips in his
hands, holding her still, pinning her to him. She braced her weight on her knees and panted
out, holding as still as she could. He sucked air through his nose, coming back down from the
edge by
squeezing his eyes shut to not look at her. As he collected himself, he realized he could feel
resistance within her, pushing back against the head of his cock in this position. He pulled her
toward him slightly, feeling it slip away. He pushed her back, feeling it come back. She moaned
as
he pressed against it as best he could, almost out of his reach.

Realization dawned on him as she began to slowly grind on him, keeping him pressed on that
spot. He knew what that was, and he knew the feeling that overcame him was exactly what
she didn’t want for him to have. Conicted, he pulled back as best he could from beneath her,
making his penetration shallower and more about movement than the deep, barely moving
grind. He pulled her arms so she would come down to him, and he kissed her thoroughly,
trying
to tell her how much he loved her.

Her breath hitched, and then she was coming, pulsing, nearly sobbing out with it as he grabbed
her hips and pressed as deeply as he could, nding that spot, hearing her cry out as he did, and
then he let himself fall with her, coming into her with such force he bit his lip and could taste
the blood in his mouth as he held onto her, emptying everything he had into her, his seed, his
hope, and his love. It would have to be enough for now.

She melted onto him, panting, resting her head on his chest while she tried to catch her
breath. He could see her head move a little with every thud of his heart, every rise and fall of
his chest. He bent his head the best he could and kissed her hair soly. “I love you,” he
whispered.

“I love you,” she answered quietly. “I love you so much it nearly hurts,
Jon.”

“As long as we keep loving each other, we’ll get through this,” he said gently, stroking her hair. He
groaned a little as he slipped out of her, not missing her faint sound of sucking air between her
teeth. “You all right, Love?” he asked.
“I ache a little,” she answered, moving o him to curl into his side, her head resting on his
shoulder.

He wanted to reply, but he looked down at her face, seeing her eyes dri shut. She felt
gloriously warm in his arms, a feeling she probably hadn’t had in a long time. She deserved the
respite from the cold. He reached over and pulled the blankets up and over them, creating a
warm nest for his dragon Queen. “Sleep, Love,” he whispered, and kissed her temple before
laying back and letting himself revel in the luxury of her warmth before he followed her into
sleep.

Tangent Chapter 4

Jon kicked his horse into a run as they approached a small series of steep hills. The others
were content to let him ride ahead, but Daenerys gave her horse her head and followed him.
She
quickly caught up to Jon where he’d stopped at the crest of a hill. “What is it?” she asked,
turning to look and follow his gaze, suddenly sitting up straighter in her saddle as her eyes
saw Winterfell for the rst time. “Oh,” she breathed. “Jon. It’s beautiful.” She looked back at
him, tearing her eyes away from his home.

“Aye, it is,” he answered, his voice low. “And we have to keep it standing.”

“We will, Jon,” she promised. “It’s your home.”

“Ready to meet my family, then?” he asked. He laughed when she looked at him sideways.
“It’ll be ne, I promise. Just be yourself.”

She scoed at that. “I can’t be myself,” she pointed out. “I have to be Queen Daenerys
Stormborn . . . I don’t have to repeat all my titles to you right now, do I? That’s why I’m
worried.
First impressions and all that. If they don’t like the rst impression, then it’s going to be even
more dicult to make a second one, isn’t it?”

Jon looked at her for a moment before he looked down. “Well, it might be that we’ll have to
go straight from that introduction to a private meeting,” he conceded. “Postponing any
settling in we could possibly do.”

She nodded. She’d have to postpone her bath and Jon in her bed for a few hours longer. “I’m ne
with that. Your family is important to me, Jon.” She’d never wanted anyone’s approval so badly.
She thought briey of Viserys and how she’d strived to meet with his impossible expectations,
and realized she wanted Lady Sansa, Arya, and Bran to approve of her even more than she’d
wanted of her own brother.

“It’s going to be ne,” he said again, but he had to cut the rest of his words of comfort short
when the other riders began catching up to them. “Stay with me,” he said. “Let them see
us come to the gates together, Daenerys.”

She nodded and nudged her horse with one knee to get her to move closer to Jon, close
enough for her to speak without anyone overhearing her. “Let’s hope tomorrow nds us under
your heart tree in the godswood, Jon,” she said quietly.

“You’d do it all over again, wouldn’t you?” he asked, smiling at her.

She laughed at that, loud enough for the others to hear her. “Of course I would.”
Her Dothraki guards rode around them as they approached the gates of Winterfell, keeping
her safe as she had compromised with Ser Jorah regarding his concern for assassins. She let
her fur hood fall back, letting everyone see her hair and her face as she rode next to Jon. She
resisted the urge to reach for his hand. Now wasn’t the time to look either insecure or overly
familiar with the King in the North, no matter how much she loved her husband.

Once inside the gates, she followed Jon as he rode through another set of gates to a
courtyard that would have been muddy had it not been frozen. She noticed right away that
his family had assembled, direwolves glimmering from their cloak fastenings. She rode up to
Jon’s side. “Wait here,” he whispered to her. “Wait for me.”

She watched from her horse as Jon greeted his family. He pulled Lady Sansa into a warm
embrace that she returned fully. Daenerys noted that when Sansa smiled at him, it wasn’t just
her lips that pulled into a smile, her whole face smiled. Jon moved to his brother, Bran, kissing
him on the forehead gently. They whispered for a moment, then Jon rested his forehead
against Bran’s, beyond relieved to have his little brother home and safe. A dark haired girl,
sword and dagger on her hip, snuck up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. When Jon
turned, the girl leapt into his arms, holding him with her whole body. Arya. His sister Arya. As
he turned with Arya in his arms, Dany could see he was trying not to cry. The sight warmed
her all the way to her bones – Jon was beloved and treasured here, as he should be.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sansa watching her, her face neutral but not unkind,
and Jon put Arya down. “Forgive me,” he said, looking from Daenerys to Sansa. He came to
Dany’s side, reaching to help her down from her horse. Instead of taking her hand, he simply
leaned over and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her o the horse as if she weighed nothing.
It was intimate and she understood. He was giving them something to think about.

Before her feet touched the ground, Missandei had dismounted from her horse and was
announcing her. Try hard as she might, she felt her insides quail at the look that passed
between Jon’s sisters. She approached them, oering her hand. “Lady Stark,” she greeted soly,
ghting the the slight shake in her voice.

“Welcome to Winterfell, Your Grace,” Sansa responded, her curtsy perfect. She took Dany’s hand
and kissed it lightly, perfectly polite and completely unreadable. Unbeknownst to each other,
they had the same thought: She’s beautiful.
Arya bowed to her like a knight, so Dany responded in kind with a nod, oering her hand. Arya’s
kiss was light and chivalrous, just as expected. She immediately jumped back onto Jon, holding
him ercely.

Daenerys moved to Bran, who held her hand for a moment before letting her go. “Your
Grace,” he greeted courteously, his face smooth and unreadable. “I ask for your forgiveness.
My limitations prevent me from customary courtesies.”

“No need, my lord,” she answered. “I’m honored to meet you.”

“You must be tired, Your Grace,” Sansa suggested. “We’ve had rooms prepared for you.”

“I’m immensely grateful, my Lady,” Daenerys began in relief, but Jon cut her o before she could
protest, putting Arya down once again.

“Sansa, we need to talk. We need to do it now, and we need to do it privately,” he interjected,

speaking quietly and close to them. “There have been some developments we need to
discuss together as a family.”

“Indeed there are,” Bran agreed. “Let our guests settle for a little while and we’ll meet to
talk.”

“Bran,” Jon began, shaking his head. “”It rather can’t wait, my brother.”

“Speaking of brothers, Jon, Samwell Tarly is here,” Bran told him. “He’s here with news as well.”

“More the reason it can’t wait,” Jon answered. He turned to Daenerys. “Come, Your
Grace.”
Daenerys watched as Sansa glanced over Dany’s shoulder toward the gate. Her expression
changed a little, but still Dany couldn’t read her. “My Lord Tyrion,” she greeted, making Dany
turn to watch her Hand dismount his horse.

“My Lady Stark,” he greeted back, genuinely happy to see her. He went to her side and took
her hand, kissing it tenderly, his aection for her honest and open. “I don’t know how you got
out of King’s Landing when you did, but thank all the gods you managed it.”

“Littlenger,” she said simply. “Who is now dead.”

Tyrion nodded. “We’re well rid of that snake in the grass. Who nally murdered the conniving
bastard?”

Sansa smiled at him, a true smile that warmed her whole face, nearly as when Jon had
embraced her. “He had a fair trial, far more fair than you were given, if I’ve heard correctly. I
passed the sentence, Arya swung the sword.”

“Northern justice far surpasses that of the capital in these times,” he said gently, pride evident
in his voice and on his face. “May we beome more familiar with it in years to come.” He took
her hand again, and Sansa willingly held his for a long moment.

Daenerys looked from her Hand to Lady Sansa. He had warned her ahead of time of their past,
but she hadn’t expected Sansa to greet him or speak to him in such a welcoming manner.
Maybe there was a chance for Dany to earn that trust and aection as well.

“Come,” Sansa invited them. “Let’s go in and we’ll talk. I’m sure we’ve more to discuss
than we’ve let on.”

Jon grinned and shook his head. “You have no idea,” he answered, gesturing for Daenerys to
go ahead of him. He put his arm around Arya and kept her close to his side. “That your . . .
Needle, you called it?” he asked.
Daenerys could hear them talking behind her, but she kept walking, Tyrion at her side, as
they followed Sansa inside. Winterfell was warm. Daenerys unbuckled her heavy cloak in
relief, and felt Jon li it o her shoulders. “I’ll carry that,” he said quietly, smiling at her.

“Thank you,” she said soly.

Arya looked from Jon to her and then back again. “You’re happy to be home, Jon?” she
asked
nally.

“Of course I am,” he answered, grinning at her. “I keep smiling like a damn fool.”

She snorted. “At least you admit it.”

He moved to cu her and she ducked gracefully out of his way. He eyed her in surprise as she
smirked at him.

Sansa led them back to a small room o the Great Hall. “This ought to do,” she announced. She
looked around the room.

Jon shook his head. “Not private enough,” he said quietly. “Maybe we . . . I’d like to go be with
Father for a bit.” He held up Dany’s cloak. “It’s better if this is completely secluded. Either in
the crypt or in the godswood, Sansa.”

She eyed him for a moment. “You’re being awfully . . . secretive,” she commented,
exaggerating her expression for a moment, leering at him playfully to make him smile. “What
have you done now?”

Jon went from grinning to serious. “Crypt, please. I’ll tell you everything
there.”
He turned to Daenerys, pulling her fur cloak around her once more, fastening the dragon head
clasp. He was doing it again, his touch more intimate than courtesy, more familiar than
respectful. Dany didn’t dare look away from him. She didn’t want to see the looks of his family
were giving each other. He gave her a small smile, one side of his mouth quirking up. He
thought

this was funny. She resisted the urge to smirk back. This wasn’t funny at all.

“Everything?” Sansa asked. Daenerys was relieved she had said it instead of
herself.

“Everything,” he promised.

He led the way back outside, using a side door to quickly get them to the crypt. Daenerys
followed behind him. She knew the less she said at the moment, the better. She looked around
once inside, careful to remain respectful in the quiet hush of darkness. The dead rested easily
in the depths, and she was unafraid of their location – she was terried of the words about to
leave Jon’s mouth.

“I’ll start,” Jon announced. Of course he would. Godsdammit, Jon. Don’t make them hate
me right away.

“Maybe we ought to let Bran go rst?” Daenerys heard herself suggest. I’m a coward. Jon, please
don’t . . .

“I’ll wait for Sam,” Bran refused, gesturing for Jon to

continue.

“Right,” Jon agreed. He took a deep breath. Daenerys didn’t know where to look. She nally
rested her eyes on him. It helped. “We lost a dragon North of the Wall,” he began. “Viserion.
The Night King can kill the dragons.” He turned his head to look back at Dany, hearing the so,
involuntary sound of grief that resonated in her chest. He locked eyes with her and took
another deep breath. “Daenerys and I . . . We married before we le Dragonstone for White
Harbor.”
Daenerys heard Sansa’s audible gasp. “I knew it,” Arya laughed out before she caught
herself.

Sam entered the crypt, and everyone turned to look at him. He only got to look at Jon for a
moment before Jon was pulling him into a rough embrace. “Sam, thank the gods you’re here,”
he exclaimed, slapping him on the back heartily. “I missed you, my friend.”

“Well, you might change your mind about that in a minute,” San answered him nervously,
stepping back aer Jon let him go. “The Citadel is full of books and information, you see, and,
Gilly found something important . . . I mean . . . it wouldn’t be, but Bran can see things, Jon,
and we connected the pieces . . .”

Jon looked from Sam to Bran. “It’s true, Jon. I’ve become the Three Eyed Raven,” Bran
said simply.

“What the fuck does that even mean, Bran?” Jon demanded.

“I can see anything I can focus my thoughts on,” Bran explained. “Though it goes far beyond
that. I could go there and see whatever event I want to. I’ve seen Robert deliver the blow that
sent Rhaegar down the Trident. I’ve seen the birth of the Night King.” He paused, reaching out
to touch Jon’s hand. “I’ve seen your mother, Jon.”

Jon squeezed his hand and then pulled away. “I’m grateful for what you’re oering, Bran, but I
don’t care anymore. I can’t go chasing my past. Not when there’s a war to ght and I’ve already
married my future. The past doesnt matter anymore.”

Sam dgeted for a moment. Jon’s words were the last ones that Daenerys could have imagined
he would utter. She stepped closer to him, resisting the urge to lay her cheek against his arm.
Jon. Sam cleared his throat, then looked to Bran before looking back to Jon. “I wish we
could leave it like that for you, Jon. I really, really do. But . . .”

“Father always said that the words spoken before the word ‘but’ were horseshit,” Jon
whispered.
He closed his eyes. “Hit me with it then, Sam. If I have to know so badly, then tell me
now.”

“You’re not a bastard, Jon,” Sam began gently. “Your father and mother were married by High
Septon Maynard, aer . . .”

“That’s not possible,” Jon protested. “My father was married to Lady Catelyn Tully right here
in Winterfell.”

“But Lord Eddard Stark is not your father, Jon,” Bran answered. “Your father was Rhaegar
Targaryen. He married Aunt Lyanna in secret. You’re our cousin, not our bastard half brother, Jon.
Your mother named you Aegon. Your name is Aegon Targaryen. Father hid you from the Usurper
so one day you could claim your birthright. We have records to prove the marriage took place,
and I saw your birth, Jon. Its the truth.”

Jon reeled backwards as if Sam or Bran had really hit him. Daenerys reached out to steady him,
at a loss for words herself, her palm resting steadily between his shoulder blades. I’m here,
Love.

Arya stared at him. “Does this mean I can’t hit you now?” she asked, jesting. “That would be
the worst.”

“Arya,” Sansa breathed out, but no other words came out aer that.

Jon looked around at all of them, then turned to look at Daenerys. She was waiting to see what
he would do, and he was doing the same. Aer a long moment, she whispered to him, “Blood
of my blood.” She reached out to touch his face.

Repelled, he jerked back from her, unable to stand her touching him for a moment longer,
only registering the look of searing pain on her face aer he’d backed several paces away
from her. He shook his head at her while she fought back her tears. “No, Jon,” she
whispered. “No.
Don’t . . .”
“You’re . . . no,” he began, but then turned abruptly to leave.

“Jon, stop,” she breathed, stepping in front of him and looking him in the eyes. “Look at me.”

“As my wife, or as my aunt?” he spat out, then moved around her stunned body to leave the
crypt.

It hurt to breathe. She put her hand on her chest, pressing as hard as she could, trying to make
it stop hurting. She was le there with Sansa and Arya, Sam and Bran, all staring at her. She
was trapped. No safe place to run. No . . . no. Jon . . . no. The way he’d looked at her. She
disgusted him. Her face burned with shame and tears. Her mind whirled and suddenly she
couldn’t tell which end of the world was up. She collected herself as best she could, then
looked over to Sansa. “Would it be too imposing, Lady Stark . . .” she trailed o,hoping Sansa
could put

together something, anything, that would take them out of the crypt.

Sansa’s eyes held emotion. Not sympathy, but something equal to it, maybe. “Of course
not, Your Grace,” she replied, not needing anything more. “Your rooms are ready for you.
We’ve already drawn hot water for your bath.”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you,” she answered, hoping she sounded appropriately
grateful though her current misery.

Arya followed them for a time, then veered o toward the courtyard.

“She might be going aer Jon,” Sansa said quietly as they walked. “I hope that’s where
she’s going, anyway. He’ll listen to her.” Daenerys could do nothing but hug herself, trying to
keep herself from falling apart.

They walked through the Great Hall once more, Sansa leading Daenerys to a door down
another long passageway. The Targaryen sigil was elegantly carved into the wood as though it
had always been there. “Thank you, Lady Stark,” she whispered. “I had hoped I would have
made a better
impression than . . .” she couldn’t nd the words to nish her sentence, her heart too raw.

Sansa considered her carefully for a moment. “I’m just there,” she nally oered, gesturing down
the passage. “I’m the only door opposite you. Aer you’re refreshed and if you want to, if you’re
not too tired . . . we could get acquainted better. I’d like that very much, actually.”

“Yes, I think . . . that’s a lovely idea,” Daenerys agreed. “Thank

you.”

“Your Grace,” Sansa curtsied again.

“Please . . . I only want to be Daenerys with you. You’re Jon’s family. I had hoped . . . ” she le o
the rest. I had hoped we could be a family together.

Sansa smiled at her then, one of the smiles she had given to Jon. “Daenerys Targaryen,”
she agreed, reaching out her hand. “I’m Sansa Stark. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Daenerys greeted, reaching out to her. They clasped hands. Dany smiled in
relief before turning and entering her room alone.

The front room had cushioned chairs and a dark wooden table with scrollwork down the legs.
The replace had more chairs in front of it, a smaller table between two of them. There were a
few books on a shelf in the corner – her own, she realized upon closer inspection.

She turned to the door near the replace and opened it. A bed with heavy curtains tied back
against the posts, revealing down comforters and blankets, her own furs spread about on
the bed and chairs for her to do with as she liked. A copper tub was set up near the
replace, steaming and ready.

“Daenerys,” Missandei greeted. “I didn’t expect you so

soon.”
Dany could only shake her head at her, beginning to cry. Missandei said nothing, but pulled
Dany into an embrace, holding her gently for a moment before letting her go. “Let’s get you
unbundled and in the bath,” she suggested. “You might feel better aer?”

“It’s Jon,” she sobbed.

“What’s happened?” Missandei asked, concerned.

“He’s not . . . his name’s not Snow,” she cried. “He’s my brother’s son.”

Missandei absorbed what had been said without a word, unraveling braids and combing
ngers through Dany’s tangled, dirty hair. She le Dany alone to soak in the tub for a moment,
her
still crying, as she gathered soap and towels. She wordlessly washed Dany’s hair, wrapping it
all in a towel and pinning it back before speaking.

“Is it true, your family marries sibling to sibling?” she asked

carefully.

“Yes,” Daenerys answered tiredly. “But I’m not the one that has a problem with this, it’s
Jon. He . . . the way he looked at me . . . I can’t . . .” she shuddered and began to cry
again.

“I’ll need to ask some questions, Your Grace,” Missandei said comfortingly, resting her
hand against Dany’s shoulder. “I will nd more information before I advise you on this.”

“There’s nothing to advise,” Daenerys replied, staring down at the bathwater. “He will ask for a
dissolution of marriage as soon as possible, I’m sure. He was . . . the way he looked at me . . .
he was disgusted and horried, Missandei. He . . . ”

“Give him some time to process this,” she urged. “He may come to realize it doesn’t matter
who
his parents were, and he’ll remember he loves
you.”

“He’s the heir to the throne, Missandei,” she pointed out. “He’s the last living male heir.”

“Did your mother crown Viserys at Dragonstone aer Rhaegar was killed or not?” Missandei
pointed out carefully. “He named you his heir, did he not? The laws of succession, unless I’m
mistaken, follow the line of the one crowned. If Viserys claimed you were his heir, then it’s
you who will sit on the Iron Throne until you claim an heir. Although if your marriage stands,
it doesn’t matter too much, does it?”

Daenerys stared at the water, watching the soap bubbles slowly dissolve in the water. “He
doesn’t love me anymore,” she whispered, tracing a small patch of bubbles with her ngertips.
“He was disgusted. He won’t want to stay married to me.” She brought her knees up and
hugged

them to her chest. Jon was the love of her life; there would be no one for her aer Jon.
Suddenly, her days stretched before her, alone and empty. Her heart throbbed in her chest, the
hurt inside nearly unbearable. Outside, Drogon called out mournfully, as though he could
feel her pain. Very likely he can. We are one, my son and I, she thought.

“Wow, you le Sansa alone with the real Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” Arya greeted him as
he sat beneath the weirwood, Longclaw across his lap, Ghost at his side.

“Who better than the Lady of Winterfell to look aer the Queen?” Jon muttered.

“So, this makes you Aegon what? The tenth? The thousandth?” she
teased.

He sighed. “I might be the sixth,” he said glumly. “Or the eighth. I’m not sure. I’ll have to
ask.”

“You’re still Jon,” she said, shrugging, coming to sit next to him. She looked at him for a
long
moment. “I missed you,” she said. “You’re the only brother who ever understood me.”

“I’m apparently your cousin,” he pointed out.

“No, you’re still my brother,” she argued. “You’re still Jon. I’m still Arya. Sansa will forever be
Sansa, Bran will always be Bran, no matter what raven he claims to be.” She paused for a
moment. “And Daenerys is still Daenerys, Jon.”

He cringed. “I married my aunt,” he whispered, lowering his head to his

hands.

“And you’ve bedded her too, I would assume?” she asked, nudging him with her knee
against his. “You’ve slept with the Queen.” Her jab at humor was lost on him. “She’s very
pretty.”

He groaned out. “I did,” he answered, glad his hands covered his

tears.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Jon?” she demanded, slugging him in the ribs with her
elbow. “She’s beautiful, and it’s obvious she loves you very much. I saw the way she looks at
you.”

“I married and bedded my own fucking aunt, Arya,” he growled out. “She’s my aunt.”

“You seem very stuck on that, Jon. The Starks have married cousin to cousin for generations,
idiot,” she snickered at him. “You’re half a Targaryen. You think marrying your aunt is too close
of amyli? Look at your Targaryen grandparents. This isn’t the horrible nightmare you’re making it
into. You love her, don’t you?” She looked at him, but when he tried to speak, she interrupted
him. “Oh shut up. I saw the way you held her when you lied her o her horse, the way you
looked at her before you came through the gates. You love her. You hurt her badly down there in
the crypt. She did a really great job of covering it up, though. What do you think she’s doing
right now?”

He scoed bitterly. “She’s with Sansa, I’m sure.”

Arya stood and rapped him on the head with her knuckles aectionately. “I don’t know her at all,
but it seems more likely she’s by herself right now, crying. She nearly was when Sansa took her
out of the crypt. You hurt her, Jon.” Her voice was much more reproachful now. “What are you
going to do? Petition for dissolution and leave her because your name changed? That would be

stupid.”

“She’s my aunt,” he said sullenly.

“Look, have a good sulk if you need to,” she began, putting her hands on her hips. “The gods
all know you’re good at it. The only thing that’s changed from this morning, last night, last
week, last whenever . . . is your name. Just that. You’re still you, she’s still her.” She turned to
walk back the way she came. “Come to dinner and sit with her. If nothing else, be allies. The
North needs us to be together on this.”

“Where are you going?” he asked, looking up to see her retreating

back.

“I’m going in to see my sisters,” she answered, emphasizing the plural. “You married her. She’s
my sister. She’s part of our pack now, Jon, so thanks for that. You got us a sister with dragons.
Well done, you.”

Arya slipped into the rooms she shared with Sansa, going back to their bedroom, bypassing
Sansa sewing at the replace. “Where have you been?” Sansa asked her, looking up from her
work as Arya walked by.

“Giving Jon something to think about,” she answered shortly. “Hope the message sticks.”

“What did you do?” Sansa demanded, panicking, following her into the
bedroom.
“Seven Hells, Sansa,” she exclaimed, pulling o her shirt and putting on a clean one. “He hurt
her. He’s freaking out, I’m sure she is too, and someone had to talk him down. I gave him some
things to think on.” She dropped her trousers and found clean ones in her bureau, kicking the
dirty ones into the corner with the rest of the laundry. She pulled up the clean ones and tied

them around her waist.

“Which is what exactly?” Sansa pressed.

“The only thing that changed was his stupid name, among other things. I may have called
him some other names, too,” she answered, pulling on clean socks.

Sansa made a sound in her throat. Arya couldn’t tell if it was a groan of disapproval
or agreement. “Why are you changing?”

“I want to look nice for dinner. The Queen is here, didn’t you know?” Arya snarked at her.

A so knock sounded on their door. They both paused to look at it. “Looking at it isn’t going
to open it,” Arya pointed out. “Let me nish getting dressed.”

Sansa went and opened the door. “Daenerys,” she greeted, genuinely pleased that she’d taken
her invitation seriously. “Come in. Sit. Have you eaten yet?”

“I haven’t,” she answered. Her voice is so . . . Arya could see her going from honey sweet
to harder than steel. She was impressed.

Sansa le the room to send for some food, so Arya tied her shirt quickly and stepped into
the front room. “I’m pretty sure Jon will come around,” she said gently. “I went and maybe
beat some sense into him. We’ll see at dinner.” She held her hand out. “I’m your sister Arya,
by the way. We formally met outside, but . . .”
Daenerys looked down at Arya’s hand and took it soly. “No, like this,” Arya said, adjusting their
hands and squeezing tighter. “The Northerners who will hold your hand over the next few
days will expect some sort of strength back. They won’t trust a handshake like that. Try
again.” She lowered her hand, then brought it up to Dany again. Dany gripped her hand a bit
harder.

“Better,” she encouraged. “That might work for Lord Manderly. He believes in the whole weaker
female thing. Lady Alys Karstark, though . . . ” Arya squeezed a bit harder. “And Lady Lyanna
Mormont denitely needs a solid one. Be committed to this. You need her on your side most of
all. Try again.” They both dropped their hands and then reached again. This time Daenerys had
a
rm and warm hold. “Much better,” Arya approved. “You might make an impression with that.”

“Thank you,” Daenerys said sincerely.

Arya shrugged. “You’re welcome. If we work together, the pack survives. You’re my sister now.
You’re part of my pack. I saw your dragons outside.”

“Drogon and Rhaegal,” Dany answered with a nod. “They’re my children.”

Arya nodded. “I sat in Balerion’s skull in the Red Keep,” she nodded. “I heard something that
maybe you would like to know. I heard Lord Varys talking to a man in a long red robe with a long
beard. He had lots of perfume on. I could smell him across the room.”

Daenerys, visibly startled, looked at Arya. “When was

this?”

“Years ago, before Father was beheaded. They were talking about how Khal Drogo would wait
to move until aer his son was born, but it sounded like they were making plans to get you
here even back then,” Arya answered.

Daenerys could feel her heart sink. “It didn’t work out quite that way, though.” She looked away,
and Arya felt . . . sad. She thought of her Father for a moment, she wasn’t quite sure why.
“I suppose not,” Arya agreed sadly.

Sansa reemerged from the hallway. “We’ll eat in here,” she said. “Just the three of us. Everyone
is settling in it looks like, so why shouldn’t we?”

I’m basing the line of succession o the British Monarchy. Queen Elizabeth II’s father was the
second son, crowned aer his older brother abdicated, and then it passed from him to her, his
eldest child.

Tangent Chapter 5

Daenerys stared into the polished mirror as Missandei pulled her hair back into simple, knotted
braids like Sansa’s, leaving the rest as long curls cascading down her back and over her
shoulders like liquid silver. She tried to calm herself, her heart pounding in her chest. Jon
would be at dinner, along with the rest of the Lords and Ladies of the North. Everything
depended on how the night went.

Her stomach lurched at the thought of seeing Jon. It was also protesting the lunch that
she’d
eaten with Sansa and Arya earlier, now sitting cold and low in her belly, feeling like a stone stuck
inside her. The simple food, soup and bread with butter, was richer and in larger quantity
than her body had become used to eating in the last week’s hard ride North. The day’s
turmoil certainly hadn’t helped.

A light knock at the door startled her. Jon? No, not Jon, he doesn’t knock like that, her mind
immediately thought, then realized he was likely the last person who would seek her out at the
moment. Her heart was just taking a bit longer to accept it than her mind. Missandei tied o
the last braid and twisted it under, tucking it in rmly before she went into the next room and
opened the door. Daenerys turned in time to see both Sansa and Arya looking at her.

“Jon’s come in,” Arya said gently, more gently than Sansa had ever heard her speak. “He’ll at
least be there. We talked for a bit again.”

Dany nodded, inhaling deeply to help calm her roiling insides. Jon . . . “If I could make it
through today . . . I’m sure I can survive a dinner,” she whispered.

“We decided we’re going to put you between us instead of leaving you to sit with Jon,” Sansa
said decisively. “And it might be better if we kept your marriage a secret for the time being,”
she added gently. “If you’re sitting with us, it looks better, even if he wasn’t being an ass. We’ve
agreed to keeping our mouths closed on the Aegon part for the time being, too. I doubt Jon
would disagree.”

Daenerys couldn’t help but agree. “It would make things easier. No tension at dinner would
be helpful,” she sighed. “Especially if he doesn’t want to stay married.”

“Give him some time,” Arya suggested. “It’s only fair; he gave you some time,
too.”

She ushed, closing her eyes. “That’s another reason he might want to renounce me,” she said
quietly. “Did he tell you what we fought about?”
Arya shrugged. “No, he didn’t oer specics and we didn’t ask,” she answered. She sat down on
the bed and leaned back on her elbows. “He only said he’d hurt you unintentionally and it took
you some time to come around.” She tapped the soles of her boots together, the relatively
quiet noise seeming loud to Dany’s ears.

Dany nodded, turning back to the mirror. She could see both Sansa and Arya reected back from
behind her. She took a deep breath. “Okay, what I need to know is who sits where at the table,
so I can face them and know them a little before we speak.”

Sansa produced a parchment from the crook of her arm, smiling as she waved it at her. She
had Daenerys follow her into the front room, where she unrolled it and used some of Dany’s
books to make it lie at. “Seating arrangements,” she said, glad she could do something helpful.

“Oh thank gods,” Daenerys sighed, hugging her suddenly.

“You’ll be seated between myself and Arya, right here,” Sansa pointed on the chart, using one
arm to hold Daenerys around the shoulders, welcoming her to stay close while they got down
to business. “Now, let’s start on your le from there. . .”

Jon paced in his room, Ghost lazing in front of the re. He’d polished his chest plate so the
direwolves gleamed in the light, cleaned his brigandine until he’d managed to get the last of the
blood and dirt o the leather, then oiled it until the leather would absorb no more oil. He’d had
to do it himself when in the Night’s Watch, so he saw no reason he’d have someone else do it
for him now as King in the North.

Ghost rolled over and looked at him. Jon nodded. “I know,” he said, looking down at his boots.
“I’ve fucked this up in more ways than one, and I still don’t know what to do.” Ghost lolled
his tongue out. “Yeah, it’s easy for you. You don’t care like I do.”
He ddled with one of the buckles on his brigandine. It was loose. He craned his neck to look at
it. It was the one Daenerys had yanked loose just the other night. He hadn’t been fast enough
in getting it over his head, their mouths crashing together as they’d quickly coupled behind a
stand of trees while the rest of their army was setting up camp, her skirts hanging over his
arms, her riding trousers draped around his neck to keep them out of the snow as he pressed
her up against a tree. The image of her face as he’d nished inside her was burned into his
memory, the snow melting on her cheeks and hair as she’d smiled at him, her face ushed with
pleasure and their shared warmth. She’d been so . . . needful that day. It had been building,
her need for him, the closer they got to Winterfell.

He felt immensely guilty. How many times had they . . . He shuddered. How many times had he
tried to . . . For the very rst time, he felt a moment of relief that she couldn’t get pregnant, but
his heart hurt at that thought. It was wrong. He wanted her to have children, wanted to see her
glowing, ripe and round with his child, wanted to see her holding the newborn babe in her
arms. Jon missed her. In that split second, all he wanted to do was go to her room and grab
her and hold her tightly, kiss her and tell her his name meant nothing, that he was still her
Jon, bury himself in her arms and be forgiven.

I can’t do that. She’s my aunt. Best we make a clean break of it and move forward from there.
We’ve got a war to win, he thought. We don’t have time for anything else. I can’t believe I let
Tyrion Lannister talk me into marrying her. But that thought was wrong, too. He’d readily
agreed. No one had talked him into it. He loved her, loved her far more than he ever thought
he’d love anyone.

Ghost got up, heaved a sigh, then opped heavily onto the fur rug in nearly the same position
he’d been in before. Jon sat down in the chair next to Ghost. “This is a fucked up situation, my
friend,” he said quietly, leaning over to stroke Ghost soly around the ears. Ghost looked at
him sideways, then heaved a sigh before moving out of Jon’s reach. “You’re mad at me too,
then?” Jon chuckled. “I suppose I deserve it.” He stood up again, going to the window to look
out, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

He thought about what Arya had said in the godswood. He looked down and shook his head.
His whole life, he’d felt pushed aside because he was the bastard. Why hadn’t Ned at least told
him? He remembered the last words he’d spoken with the man he’d loved as a father. “The next
time we meet, we’ll talk about your mother, hmmm?” he’d said. Jon remembered the emotion
in his voice before they began riding South, and Jon rode North to the Wall. Lyanna Stark had
been
Ned’s beloved sister, with the same re and wildness that burned inside Arya according to the
stories he’d heard. Rhaegar hadn’t kidnapped and raped her, though. She’d run o to marry
him, forsaking her betrothed. It had to have been some serious love for a Stark to go back on
a promise of that magnitude. Robert Baratheon had gone to war over Jon’s mother, but Ned
had known the truth the entire time. What possible motives could he have had? Jon supposed
he could ask Bran at some point so he could try and put the pieces together himself.

He thought about Sansa’s reproachful look at him when she and Arya had come to his rooms
not long aer he’d nally come inside from the godswood. “She’s heartbroken, Jon,” she’d said
soly, coming to him to hold his hand.

“Just give her some time,” he’d said coldly, steeling himself against his sister. “I’ve hurt her
before, not on purpose, but it took nearly a week for her to speak to me again. I gave her
some time and space and then we talked. It worked out ne,” he’d said. “I imagine this will
work out the same.”

Arya eyed him suspiciously. “So, you’re a repeat oender,” Sansa sighed. “Great. Well done,” she
added sarcastically. “Do you think this is going to end ‘ne’ if you push her away? It won’t, Jon.
Personal feelings and the love of your life aside, we actually do need her to win this war.
Remember the war we still need to ght, Jon?”

“I can’t fucking forget about that, Sansa. I live and breathe and plan strategies to win the
damned war,” he’d nearly yelled. “You want to know what I’ll also not forget? I’ll never forget

watching Viserion fall from the sky and sink into that lake. I’ll remember that until my dying
day, which may be sooner rather than later if I can’t concentrate on planning for the war
you’re
accusing me of forgetting about. It’s better if she hates me, it will make it easier for her to
move on, and better for us all when it comes time to battle the dead.”

“Just like that?” Sansa demanded. “You’d let that amazing and wonderful woman go just
because you can’t get your head out? That’s it. You’re coming to dinner, but don’t expect to sit
next to her. Don’t speak to her, don’t even look at her if you won’t apologize, and don’t speak
to us.
Behave yourself and only speak when spoken to.”

Jon looked at her, half amused, half shocked. “You sound like your mother.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll listen to me like you did to her,” she snapped back. “Behave yourself
tonight. No brooding, either.”

Arya followed Sansa as she made her way back to the door, turning to look at Jon and she
grinned. “And you thought I was harsh on you earlier,” she laughed. “Now you can’t even sulk.”

A low knock sounded at his door. “Come,” Jon called, looking back out the window, hoping it was
nearly anyone else but the three women of Winterfell. He didn’t know if he could take
another verbal assault from his sisters, nor could he bear to face his wife aer hurting her so
badly and before he had to do it again. Yeah, I’m a shit, but I’m doing what’s right.

“Your Grace,” Tyrion greeted, coming in and shutting the door.

“You know what’s happening yet?” Jon asked, not bothering to do anything but watch the snow
falling outside. He could hear Drogon calling for Rhaegal briey before their song grew faint from
distance before coming back. They were circling Winterfell, keeping close to their mother.
Daenerys.

“Dinner, I was told,” Tyrion answered, curious to where Jon was going with his
question.

Jon nodded. “Aye, dinner,” he sighed, looking down at his feet briey before looking at Tyrion.

“Something amiss, Your Grace?” Tyrion asked, genuinely

concerned.

“It’s a long story, my Lord,” Jon answered dully, looking down at his boots again. “But I may have
to renounce my claim to Daenerys as my wife.”
Tyrion helped himself to the decanter of Winterfell’s nest apple whiskey, pouring a glass for Jon
as well. “We have time before dinner,” he said gently. “We’ll make time. If you need to talk, I’m
here in condence, Your Grace.”

Jon took the glass, looking at the amber uid inside. “According to records found in the Citadel . .
. my mother was Lyanna Stark,” he said, taking a drink. The burn of it helped clear his
thickened throat. “She’d married Rhaegar Targaryen in secret. I’m their trueborn son.” He
looked up at Tyrion, then smiled through his tears. “She named me Aegon before she died in
childbed. Lord Stark brought me North to hide me from Robert Baratheon.”

Tyrion sat down heavily in a chair. “So . . .”

“I can’t stay married to my own aunt, Lord Tyrion,” Jon pointed out, then downed the rest of
his glass in one swallow.

Tyrion seemed at a loss for words for a few minutes. “Why not?” Tyrion nally asked. “The
Targaryens have married closer relations for generations. You’d be bringing some fresh blood
into the line.”

“What line?” Jon asked pointedly. “She says can’t have children. It ends with us.”

“More the reason why this may not be the problem it seems,” Tyrion pointed out. “If she
cannot have children, then it ends with you. Together, you’ll choose an heir when the time is
right. Your claim, ultimately Daenerys’ claim, to the Throne grows exponentially by staying
married. It’s to your advantage. However, if you two do decide that it’s in your best interests to
dissolve the marriage, then we need to discuss the line of succession.”

“I don’t want it,” Jon said immediately. “I’d abdicate in her favor if it turns out I’m the rightful
heir. I’d be her Warden in the North.”
“I don’t imagine that’s what she wants either, Your Grace,” Tyrion observed. “She’s fallen in love
with you. She’s had a lover in the past, but he meant nothing to her compared to how she
looks at you. She looks to you. She trusts you. She’s not one to throw that particular kind of
faith at
 just anyone.”

Jon stalked over to the side table and lled his glass with twice as much as Tyrion had given him.
He stood looking at if for a moment before taking a drink, the burn doing nothing to help the
growing ache in his chest. “I love her,” he said quietly, seeing Tyrion give him a look. “I do.” He
took another drink. “I can’t change what’s happened, though.”

“Think on this carefully, Your Grace.” He reached over and took Jon’s glass. “And I do believe it
would be preferable if the King in the North didn’t show up drunk.”

Jon sat at one end of the table, watching Daenerys, anked by Sansa and Arya, go around the
room, meeting Lords and Ladies, talking and clasping hands. He watched as she spoke seriously
with Lady Mormont, Ser Jorah seated next to his niece at their table to the right. They spoke at
length, Dany simply listening for most of it, then he watched, astounded, as they clasped
hands and smiled at one another. He witnessed the gentry assembled, one by one, go from
suspicious to welcoming to his wife aer that. Some were more reluctant, hesitating to take her
outreached hand, but once she touched them the traditional chill of Northerners seemed to
melt away. She possessed some form of magic, he was convinced of it.

He reached over and took a long drink of his ale before picking at the venison and roasted root
vegetables on his plate. “She seems to have charmed everyone in the room,” Tyrion said at Jon’s
elbow, swilling his wine in the cup. “Well done, Snow.”

Jon leaned back in his chair, nodding. “I didn’t do anything but get her here. She is
exceptionally charming,” he agreed. He watched her for a moment before turning to Tyrion.
“It might be dicult to get her to King’s Landing if the North loves her this much. They might
decide they want a Queen in the North instead.”
“Well, there’s a way to make them love her even more, Jon Snow,” Tyrion said. “Take her out to
the godswood and marry her tomorrow.”

“That I will not do,” Jon answered, looking back at Daenerys. His heart hurt even as he said
it,

but . . .

“What do you plan on doing, then?” Tyrion asked.

Jon stood up and drained his cup. “I nd I am tired, Lord Tyrion,” he said, his voice ice and steel.
“I am retiring to my chambers for the night.”

Tyrion stepped in front of him. “ The ladies of Winterfell would like for you to expect a
visitor later in the evening,” he insisted, keeping his voice low enough for only Jon to hear.

Jon stopped. “I have no choice in this, do I?” he asked,

defeated.

Tyrion shook his head. “Lady Sansa is involved, so you really don’t.”

“We need to talk about that, too,” Jon threatened quietly, clenching his sts deliberately and

slowly.

Tyrion raised his hands in an attempt to calm Jon. “I have always had the greatest respect for
Lady Sansa. That will never change. She’s both clever and compassionate and it would do you
good to listen to her.” Jon deated a little, nodding. Tyrion looked like he wanted to comfort Jon.
“This really isn’t the terrible thing you think it is,” he said slowly. “Together, you would do more
good for the realm, for the people you care so deeply for.”

Jon le the Great Hall, going immediately to his rooms. Ghost lolled his tongue at him, then

pushed past him to get outside. Jon let him go, closing the door behind him. He’d come
back when he was ready.
He busied himself with laying out a map on the large table in the corner of his front room,
searching for answers. So far, Eastwatch was the last known location of the dead army. He
placed a marker on Eastwatch, then another on Winterfell. He looked at the distance between
the two. As slowly as the dead army moved, they had about a month before the army would
be at
Winterfell. That is, if they could somehow get south of the Wall. He leaned over the table, his
weight on his hands as he looked the map over, every hill and valley carefully drawn for him to
see. He would need his small council to help prepare. He had already ordered the dragonglass
to be rendered as needed.

Dragonglass had proven to be far too fragile to be shaped into arakhs, the glass unstable unless
in a straight blade, thick in the middle with a carefully chipped and aked double sided blade. He
had seen only one of the weapon makers successfully make the curved shape work, but it was
time consuming and required great skill. There was no way to arm all of the Dothraki with
blades like that in less than a month’s time. The Dothraki would have to depend on long knives
and
arrowheads. He thought of Tormund’s axe. He’d make sure that there were enough of those
made, too.

He stood up from the map, leaving it out on the table, and went to the bedroom, stripping o his
brigandine and chest plate and setting them aside. He stretched his arms above his head, then
went and poured himself more whiskey. Daenerys would be by later. He was going to have to
break her heart all over again, for the second time that day. Hopefully for the last time. He
hated it, hated himself for it, but was he resigned to it, and he hoped she would come to feel
the same at some point. He took another drink; he was going to need a lot more if he was
going to get through the next few hours.

He was halfway through his third glass when her so knock reached his ears. Here we go, he
thought. He opened the door and had the air knocked out of him by her beauty, the way her
hair fell over her shoulders, the slight ush to her cheeks and the so look in her lavender eyes.
He held the door open for her and gestured for her to step in, his words lost somewhere
between them. He stared at her backside as she walked in the room, remembering how it had
felt to take her from behind, her skirts up around her back, pressed between them as he had
roughly thrust into her until she came, her head tilted back to receive his kiss.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the memory. He opened them, and she was
staring at him, her eyes seeming to shine in the dim light of the room. He resisted going to
her and
kissing her, though that was his rst impulse. Instead, he gestured for her to sit near the re, and
then he took the opposite chair when she was settled. She looked at him expectantly.

“Daenerys,” he sighed. “My Queen.” Her expression fell, and she got up from the chair,
twisting
her hands together as she began to walk out. “Dany, stop. Stop, Love,” he said gently, getting up
and going to her, taking her hands in his to calm her. “I just can’t. We can’t. It’s not . . .” His heart
was breaking, looking at her, watching hers break before his very eyes. Her eyes were lling with
tears. “I just can’t,” he nished. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

She exhaled slowly, shakily. “I won’t force you,” she whispered, then looked away, looked
anywhere but at him, trying to keep as composed as she could. “I’ll tell Lord Tyrion and
Missandei. You should tell Ser Davos.”

“I’ll tell them,” he oered. “You shouldn’t have to. This is hard enough.”

She pulled her hands away from him then. “Don’t do me any favors, Jon Snow, Aegon . . . do
you even care? Is that the only thing that’s . . .” she trailed o, the words stuck in her throat,
jumbled and excruciating.

“I do care,” he said gently, reaching for her again.

She brushed him o, sning the air. “You’ve been drinking,” she observed, stepping back a pace,
out of his reach and away from the smell.

He shrugged. “Not much, but

yes.”

Her eyes nally turned accusatory. “Liquid courage, is that it?” she asked, sounding both hurt
and angry.

“You’re right,” he admitted soly, no longer able to look her in the eyes. “I needed help in
order
to deny myself the most beautiful woman in the
realm.”

Stunned and mute, she turned away from him and le. It looked like she was going to slam the
door behind her but thought better of it at the last second and caught it before the door
crashed

into the frame.

Almost immediately, he heard her shriek and she was back, closing the door quickly and
leaning against it. “There’s . . . ” she began, but then Ghost scratched against the door, asking
to be let back in.

Jon groaned inwardly. “Let him in,” he said, sighing. Dany shook her head at him. “He won’t
hurt you, I promise,” Jon urged. “He’ll just keep scratching at the door until you do.”

“He’s . . . yours?”

“Yes and no. He’s a direwolf. He’s as much mine as I am his, I guess,” he explained. “Let him in.”

Daenerys opened the door, then quickly moved as far away from them both as she could, but
Ghost went right to her, sning her face. She closed her eyes, terried. She remembered the
wild dogs that followed the khalasar, picking up anything the people le behind to eat,
scavenging even the unwanted or already dead babies. She remembered the pack of dogs in
Volantis that had chased her and Viserys through the waste lled streets. Dogs were dangerous,
a wolf even more so. Ghost began panting, his tongue lolling out. She could feel his hot breath
on her face and she tasted the bitter salt of fear in her mouth. “Alright, you’ve had your fun,”
Jon said quietly. “Back o her now.”

She opened her eyes, staring right into his red ones. At some point she began to breathe
again, but Ghost didn’t leave. “Jon,” she whispered.

“Ghost, come on. She’s terried. You’re scaring her. Don’t scare her,” Jon urged, and nally Ghost
backed down, letting Dany move toward the door. She opened it and suddenly Ghost was behind
her, following her out the door before she could close it, using his size and bulk to force the
door open. Jon chased aer him, calling him back, but Ghost ignored him. Daenerys,
frightened but steady enough to walk, made her way back to her room, Ghost on her heels
like he belonged there. She ignored him as she walked, heart pounding, hoping he would get
bored and leave her be, but he followed her all the way to her room, where she turned and
shut the door before he could push his way in behind her, pushing herself up against it before
turning the lock.

Missandei dropped the clothes she was carrying. “Daenerys! What is

it?”

Dany, speechless, pointed to the other side of the door she was leaning against. She nally
quelled the shaking in her voice long enough to speak. “It’s . . . it’s Jon’s direwolf. He’s out
there. He followed me back.” Ghost began to scratch at her door, and she heard Jon shout at
him to leave her alone. Ghost ignored him completely, his scratching intensifying.

Jon’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Open up, Daenerys,” he called, resigned to
the fact he had to keep looking at her beautiful face and denying himself. “He’s insisting. He’ll
end up knocking down the door if you don’t let him in.”

Before the rational part of her brain protested, she turned and opened the door, letting Jon in.
Ghost shoved his way in behind Jon, immediately going to Daenerys and sitting by her side. He
panted for a moment, staring at Jon, then lowered himself to the stone oor and making it
clear he wasn’t leaving.

Jon nodded slowly. “You’ve made a friend,” he said, but Dany wasn’t sure which one of them
he was speaking to. Jon looked at her for a moment, then turned to go, unable to stand it
any longer. “Let him out when he’s done in here. He’ll scratch and let you know.”

She started shaking her head, but realized he couldn’t see her protest. “Jon, you can’t mean
to leave him here . . . ” she began.

“How do you suggest I move him? Surely you’re not suggesting I stay?” Jon asked, facing
the door, his hand on the curved iron handle. “He does what he pleases, and your
company apparently pleases. He won’t hurt you, I swear it. Just let him out when he
wants out.” He
opened the door, looked back at Ghost for a moment, then sighed. “You’re being a nuisance,
you know. You really should come back with me.” Ghost laid his head down on the oor, his eyes
raised to look at Jon. Jon shook his head. “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he said, turning back to the
door. “He’s made up his mind.”

Early the next morning, aer a long night of staring at the ceiling of his bed canopy, Jon found
himself outside Dany’s door again. He paused to knock, but Missandei opened the door on her
way out somewhere else, scaring them both. She smiled at him aer she recovered, her hand
on her chest. “Go see,” she whispered. “But do not disturb them.”

Jon quietly went through Dany’s front room to the bedroom, only opening the door a few
inches

to see inside. Ghost was laying on a large wool rug, his back against the side of the bed.
What surprised him was Daenerys, sleeping on her stomach, her arm dangling over the
edge, her
ngers buried in Ghost’s fur. His throat tightened, and he closed the door silently and returned
to his own room.

Shit. Ghost had made his opinion known. The whole damn world was against him. He was
trying to do the right thing, the logical thing, and none of them understood. He picked up his
gloves and threw them at the wall as hard as he could. He glanced over to the decanter of
whiskey, but turned away. Too early for that.

He busied himself with the map until he grew hungry, so he wandered down to the Great
Hall,
nding his family breaking their fast, Daenerys sitting with Arya and Sansa, Ghost sprawled out
behind her chair. He watched as she casually took a bit of meat o her plate and held her
hand back toward the direwolf, who wagged his fucking tail at her before taking the oering.
Godsdammit, Ghost. You were supposed to be on my side, you ass. You’re acting like a fucking
puppy.

Arya spotted him and grinned, looking down at Ghost then back up at him. She shrugged,
then turned back to her food. Infuriated, Jon sat at the other end of the table, and Sansa
wordlessly
passed him a plate. Daenerys looked up at him for a moment, then lowered her eyes. Jon
could see she was ghting her tears, and if he’d read the changes to her face correctly, she’d
been
crying for a good while already. Ghost stood up and wandered over to Jon, sning his face for
a moment in greeting before he went right back to Daenerys and sat down. You great bloody
bugger. You’re an embarrassment to yourself. Jon watched, astounded, as Ghost snied her face
and then licked away a tear. Oh that is it. She’s turned him into a bloody lapdog. It fucking
gures.

Jon stewed on his thoughts silently as he ate, not looking up at any of them the rest of the
meal. They chatted at the other end of the table, completely unbothered by his sullen silence.
He glanced up to look, seeing Dany give more of her breakfast to Ghost before picking at her
plate again. She wasn’t eating. She needed to. The North was harsh, she needed to survive.
He, however, was the last person she was going to listen to at this point, nor was he about to
reduce himself to the childish foolery of having someone pass the message on.

Daenerys joined her small council in Jon’s front room, Ghost following her to the door then
going into Jon’s bedroom to sleep in front of the re. She pretended to not see his subtle eyeroll
at the direwolf’s retreating back, the slow shake of his head in disbelief.

The night before, Ghost had pushed his way past her, obstinately selecting the side of her bed
for sleep. He was on the oor, but his back was level with the bed. She’d cautiously climbed in
on the opposite side, scooting to the middle for the most warmth. She didn’t notice she was
crying until Ghost was looming over her, sning her and licking her tears. He was completely
silent, but

he laid his great head on top of her blankets next to her hand and looked at her. Tentatively, she
reached out to touch him, not unlike how Jon must have felt reaching out to Drogon.

Ghost’s fur was so and thick. She’d petted him gently, and he butted her hand with his head.
“You’re a wonder,” she’d whispered in the darkened room. “You’re a clever one, aren’t you,
beautiful creature. How did you come to Jon?” She sighed, letting the tears fall. “This is quite
the opposite of how I imagined my rst night in Winterfell to be.”

Ghost eventually moved his head back down to the ground, but when she rolled over to
timidly
pet him, she heard his tail swish quietly on the oor in acknowledgement. She felt a pull to him
take hold of her heart. He was there because she’d needed him. A sort of peace came over
her
with Ghost so near and receptive to her touch. She felt . . . accepted.
Protected.

Now, as she bent over the table, Tyrion and Ser Jorah anking her and in the depths of
strategizing, she felt Ghost’s cold nose pressing against her hand. She stopped and gave him
a

scratch before continuing, placing a marker representing her and Drogon mid eld. She
determinedly ignored Jon’s brooding stares as she planned, until she nally looked up to meet
his gaze. “You need to learn to ride Rhaegal,” she said bluntly. “Two of us in the air is better than
one.”

He took a step back from the table, surprised. “How am I to do that?” he

demanded.

“The same way I do,” she answered, keeping her voice steady. “You have the blood of the dragon
in you, Jon. You were always meant to ride one.”

He threw his hands up in the air, walking away from the table. “I know you’re right,” he
began. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

Tangent Chapter 6

A week passed, then two. Ghost followed Daenerys everywhere, including out to Drogon
and
Rhaegal while she gave Jon lessons on how to ride. Ghost would simply sit in the snow and
wait for her to come back to the ground, keeping well away from the dragons. The dragons
and the direwolf seemed to accept each other’s existence, but kept a respectful distance.
Just like her and Jon, as sad as it made her feel. She began to feel more than appreciation for
the giant direwolf, she genuinely loved his constant, protective presence, even though it
made her miss his human counterpart like a lost limb.

As Rhaegal was the milder of the two dragons, though could be just as erce when called upon
to do it, Jon had little diculty in getting Rhaegal to do as he wanted or as Daenerys instructed
him. Jon kept his mind on the tasks at hand and away from thoughts of his wife. She seemed to
be recovering from him rather well now, no longer angry or crying, more of a resigned sadness
that disappeared when Sansa or Arya distracted her. By the fourth day, he came out of his
misery (and drink) long enough to realize what he’d actually done. His misery and turmoil had
blinded him to the permanence of the damage he’d done.

Arya cornered him one day aer he’d come in from ying Rhaegal, and she simply pointed
toward the godswood. He quirked his eyebrow at her and followed her out without saying a
word. He thought he already knew what she was going to say, but intended to see her let o
the steam. He sat on one of the exposed roots of the weirwood and waited.

She stared at him for a long moment. “You know what? You’ve prided yourself in the past on
keeping your word and doing the right thing, Jon. Honor was everything to you,” she said
mildly. “To the point where it got you killed once already. I used to think you were even more
honorable than Robb, you know.”

Jon had been playing out in his mind what she was going to say, and the words coming out of
her mouth were nowhere close. It surprised him and not in a way he was prepared for. He felt
shock and then a burning shame, and it was on his face for her to see. Good. Goal attained.

“It’s time then, isn’t it? I’ve had it; you need to get your head out and go to your wife,” she
said bluntly. “Or be labeled a liar and an oath breaker. It’s come to that, you know, right?”

He stared at her, blinking. He would have felt less shocked if she’d slapped him across the face.
She was right. He’d been so lost in his self hatred and misery those rst few days, the shock of
learning the truth about himself, that he’d forgotten the most important part of his own heart.
He’d never felt such self loathing in his entire life, and he’d been inicting his misery on everyone
else, especially Daenerys, who hadn’t done a single thing to deserve it. Aer he’d realized how
far down the rabbit hole he’d gone, it felt like he couldn’t get her back or if he could make it
better. He certainly hadn’t felt like he had a chance to get her back. He looked down for a
moment, gathering his words, then looked at her. “You’re right,” he admitted slowly. “I’ve been
wrong.”

She paused and stepped back from him, eyeing him like she wasn’t certain she believed
him. “You’re serious, right?” she asked. “Just like that?”

“I am serious,” he answered. “It’s . . . Every single thing I thought I knew about myself was
turned on its head. My whole life . . .” he trailed o,thinking. Daenerys. He remembered how it
had felt, knowing in his entire being that she loved him the same way he loved her, the look
on
her face on their wedding night, how she’d looked at him before he’d kissed her. His self loathing
rose to a new height before lowering down like a leaf falling from a tree. He’d fucked it all
up.

“So, instead of pointing out countless times that the Starks have married cousin to cousin, the
Targaryens marrying sibling to sibling . . . all I had to do was tell you to get your head out?”
She looked at him in disbelief. “I should hit you. Hard. I still might. I really want to. Do you have
any idea how much she’s suering right now?”

“I have an idea, but I really should know how bad it is. Hit me with it,” he invited, ghting the

sadness in his voice.

“She’s not been eating. She’s been pretty much crying every time she’s alone. She’s been sick,
Jon,” Arya answered, not bothering to temper her words. “It’s entirely your fault. You two are
made from the same cloth, and you’ve torn it apart. You’re being stupid and selsh and, yeah,
you’ve treated her almost the way Jorey treated Sansa, you know. No one fucking cares that
she’s technically your aunt. Just you. Literally no one else gives a single fuck, Jon. Oh, get used
to it,” she added when he cringed at her cursing.

He hadn’t known. She’d been showing him her mask. He knew about the nonexistent appetite,
 just from watching her eat at dinner, but the rest of it . . . he’d had no idea. He was glad
suddenly
that he was sitting down. He loved her. He truly did. In his mind, he thought it would be better,
that she would get better, that maybe they could pretend it had never happened and by the
time he realized his awful mistake, it was too late. Arya’s right. I’ve turned craven. I’m a
fucking shit and I don’t deserve her.

Arya watched the emotions play out on his face for several minutes, letting him process what
she was saying. “So . . . what now, King in the North?” she asked nally, relaxing and coming
to sit with him.

“I need a plan, Arya. Let me think,” he

answered.

“That’s your entire problem, idiot. You need to stop thinking and just start doing again,” she
pointed out. “Everyone backed o you and gave you a few hours to think things through
and
that’s what got us into this shitpile. Stop thinking about it. What do you want?” He looked at
her wordlessly. “No, seriously, Jon. What the fuck do you want? The rst things that come to
mind.
Don’t analyze it, just say it.”

He stared at the dusting of snow accumulating on the fallen leaves. “I want . . . I want to win
this fucking war. I want to live to see Daenerys on the Iron Throne, where she belongs . . .” he
paused for a moment. “I want those things most, but I also want my wife back. I spent the rst
few days so deep in hating myself for hurting her, then when I came up for air, it felt like it was
too late.”

“I don’t think it is,” Arya said quietly. She punched him in the arm as hard as she could. “You’re
an idiot.”

“I know I am,” he admitted, accepting the blow passively. “I’ve been

stupid.”

She punched him again. It felt good. “Tell her that rst, before you say anything else,” Arya
advised. “Tell her you’ve been fucking stupid and then kiss her if she lets you get that
close.”

He looked at her, nally reaching up and rubbing his arm. “I’ve got to get her alone rst,” he
pointed out.

“Sansa and I can take care of that,” she assured him.

“You need to get Ghost away from her, too. He actually bared his teeth at me the last time I
got too close to her,” he warned.

She burst out laughing at that. “You’re going to have to work around that one yourself,” she said.
“He even follows her to Sansa’s rooms for lunch, you know. Wait until aer dinner. He goes
outside the front gate for an hour or so, but comes right back. If you can get her to at least talk
to you in that hour, I think it’ll be ne.”

He thought it over, lled with more hope than he’d felt in weeks, then nodded to her. “Knock
once on my door when Ghost leaves. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Agreed. Oh, hey,” she said suddenly. “Look at this pretty thing.” She pulled out a dragonglass
knife from her back, the concealed sheath beneath her fur lined surcoat. She ipped the blade
over and over in her de ngers, showing o for him before depositing it into his hands. It was
long and wider than he expected, but incredibly honed and sharp.

“Very pretty,” he admired, turning it over and returning it to her, handle rst. “You don’t think
you’re actually going to get to use it though, do you?”

“The hells I’m not, Jon,” she growled out. “If Brienne is going to ght, then so am I. You’re being
stupid again.”

He relented with a nod and slight tilt of his head. He’d seen her ght Brienne. She’d told him
about where she’d been, what she’d done before arriving back home. He’d never felt prouder
or more horried when she’d nally told him what had really happened to the Freys. If they

survived the war, Riverrun was Arya’s, he decided.

Dinner was a quiet aair that night, most of the Lords already aeld, on their way back to
Winterfell with their armies. He watched and waited for Daenerys. She came late, very late, her
eyes puy and tired, Ghost at her heels. He tried to catch her glance, but by now she was so
used to avoiding him that she never looked his way. “Apologies,” she said soly as she sat down.
“I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to.”

He watched her carefully with fresh eyes, counting how many bites made it to her mouth. Not
many and not nearly enough. He noticed her arms were thinner. Her eyes had circles the
colors of bruises under them. My fucking fault. I did this to her. He felt even worse than he
had before. I was a stupid ass. I’m so sorry, Love. I love you. Let me make it up to you somehow,
he practically cried out to her in his head.

Later, he paced in his room, ignoring the drink in the corner, straining to listen for Arya’s knock.
No more of that shit. He loosened his collar and removed his brigandine, leaving it with

Longclaw on the table. He kept pacing, it helped calm the shaking in his limbs. She
everything. Arya thinks I have a chance, I have a chance, not a great one, but I have a chance,
was
his mind chanted as he walked.

A light knock sounded on his door, and he practically ran to it, opening it. Arya was already
gone. He swallowed and quickly made his way to her door, turning corners and nally walking
past Sansa’s rooms to Daenerys. He paused for a moment, gathering himself, then knocked.
This door was dierent than the door on the ship, heavier and darker. His knock sounded deeper
and not as loud. He waited, holding his breath, letting it out slowly when Missandei opened
the door, letting his expression speak for him.

She looked him over for a moment, judging his level of sobriety, then opened the door
wider. “I’m stepping out for the night,” she said quietly. “She’s already in bed, but not
sleeping.”

He looked at Dany’s closest friend. “I’m here. I’m really here,” he whispered. “I’ve got my
head out. I don’t know which gods are yours, but please ask them to help her take me back.”

She nodded at him, then smiled one of her beautiful and rare smiles. “Good luck,” she
whispered
back sincerely, then le him standing in Dany’s front room. Her whole room smelled of her
– warm grass in summer, sun, and water. In the stone walls of Winterfell, nearly an
impossible
thing. He stood for a minute, simply looking around before he turned to her bedroom door. It
was opened slightly, barely ajar, but he tapped on it respectfully just the same.

“Come back in the morning, Lord Tyrion,” she called, her voice strangely mued. She was crying.

“It’s not Tyrion,” he said gently. “It’s just me.” He waited patiently for her to decide whether to
let him in or not, leaving it up to her. Come on, Love. All you need to do is let me in. I’ll do
the rest, he thought, urging her.

“Come,” she nally called. He pulled the door open, stepping inside her room, his eyes
immediately nding hers. She’d gotten up from the bed and was sitting in front of the re,
wrapped in a cream colored wool blanket.

He hesitated for just a moment before he went to her and was on his knees in front of her.
“Daenerys,” he whispered. He reached for her hands, holding his breath. Cautiously, she let
him take her hands, unsure. He squeezed them tightly in his, feeling how cold hers were
against his warmth. There were suddenly so many things he wanted to say, but he
remembered what Arya had advised. He stared at her hands. “I’ve been a stupid idiot,” he
whispered. “I’m so sorry. I . . . it doesn’t excuse anything, but I fell from reason, and when I
could see daylight again, it seemed like it was too late.” He looked up to her, his eyes meeting
hers. “Am I too late?” He watched her carefully as her as tears began to run down her cheeks.

She snied, then was squeezing his hands back. He let out the breath he forgot he was
holding, leaning over her, kissing her gently on the lips. “If you want me to leave so you can
think this over, tell me. I’ll go,” he oered.

He’d blindsided her. Daenerys had not expected him at all, let alone to have him on his knees,
apologizing. She tried to be subtle about it, but when he leaned over to kiss her she saw her
opportunity. She smelled him, suspicious. Only Jon’s scent came to her nose. He’d bathed
before coming to her, she could tell that, but no, he’d not been drinking at all. This was real.
He meant it.

He was still looking at her, waiting for her to respond. Her heart stabbed in her chest, painful
and
sharp. She’d never felt pain like this, having him walk away and stay away from her for so long.
“We need to talk about this,” she whispered.

“Aye,” he agreed. “We do.”

“I’m not saying I forgive you,” she added, her voice a little stronger.

“I don’t expect you to,” he assured her. “All I need is a chance to make this better. It’s asking a lot,
probably more than I should ever ask from you, but could you do that?”

She weighed his words carefully, looking at his face. His eyes held desperation and
overwhelming regret, but they were clear and unclouded. He was being sincere and open,
letting her read his face, letting her see him. Gone was the guarded mask that held his anger
and misery. This was her Jon, the Jon she’d loved and married.

Daenerys leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. “I . . .” she broke o, sniing. “I want to
try.”

He closed his eyes then, relieved and grateful, looking more at peace than he’d done since . .
. since ever, really, she realized. He dropped his head down to her lap for a moment before
lookong up at her again. He brought his hands up to cup her face. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I’m so sorry that I let everything else get in the way of that. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“I never stopped loving you,” she whispered back, bringing his hands up to hold
his.

“Would you marry me again, Love?” he asked gently.

She looked at him, their eyes mere inches from each other. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
“That’s fair,” he agreed. “That’s more than fair and far more than I deserve.”

He stood, squeezing her hands once more before letting them go. “You’re cold,” he said gently.
“Let me tuck you in.”

Slowly, she stood up, watching him as he pulled back the blankets of her bed, inviting her
to climb in. She did, letting him guide her down onto the pillows then pull her blankets
snugly around her. He kissed her soly on the forehead. “Sleep,” he urged. “We’ll talk aer
you’ve rested, aer breakfast.”

He moved to walk out, and she raised herself up on her elbows. She took a chance, a ying leap
of hope. “You’re not staying?” she asked.

He blinked, surprised. “I didn’t want to assume, and if you need time alone to think
and decide . . .”

Daenerys looked at him for a moment before hesitantly reaching over to pull the blankets
back on the opposite side of the bed. “I’m cold and I want you to hold me,” she said, more
sure of herself. She recognized he’d given her all the power, he was at her mercy.

Without a word, he was pulling o his clothes, leaving his shirt and undergarments on. He slid
into the bed next to her, his arms out and ready for her instruction. He closed his eyes in
pleasure and relief as she settled in his arms, head resting on his shoulder. In his misery, he’d
forgotten how good it felt to hold her, how healing it could be. He felt her sigh against him,
and then she was melting into his side, asleep.

He laid awake, staring at the replace behind her. Her pillows and blankets smelled good. She
was getting warmer as she slept, and he nearly couldn’t believe he was there, holding her, aer
all he’d put her though. He knew he certainly didn’t deserve a second chance, let alone a
third one, yet here he was.
He glanced down at her, seeing her dark lashes against her cheek, a stray silver gold lock
covering most of her face. He reached over and brushed it back with a tender touch, kissing
her soly on the forehead. She was home to him. He didn’t deserve the goddess in his arms,
but he was going to do everything in his power to keep her alive, everything in his power so
she knew how loved she really was.

Ok, all the grumbles out there about how I must hate Jon Snow, what a bum he’s being . . .
There’s a reason for that. It’s happening in my own house right now. Except some
circumstances are dierent, of course, but I’m using c to get through this horrible time in my
life. It’ll get beer, and he’ll be much, much more back into his own character soon. I hadn’t
realized how far OOC I’d gone, but it felt good, so I did it. Thank you, Kit Harington/Jon
Snow
 for existing so I could get through this. I’m grateful.

Tangent Chapter 7

Daenerys woke before Jon, their shared warmth too pleasant for her to pull away from him.
Instead, she watched him sleep, thinking about the past few weeks of her life, how wonderful
it had been to give in to the building feelings she had for him, and how devastating it was
when it had all fallen apart. She knew it would be up to her to make the decision, as Jon had
quite literally laid himself at her mercy in his remorse. If she accepted his apology, she opened
herself to him possibly hurting her again, but she couldn’t see how he could hurt her any
worse than what he’d just apologized for. She would take some time before she made a
decision. Did she
love him? Absolutely. Was it right to swear herself to him all over again, with the risks they
were about to take, to be so emotionally bonded? Love and anger both led to bad judgement.
really couldn’t aord to make any bad decisions based on her feelings for Jon. There were too
many lives at stake for that.

She sighed soly, reaching up to brush an errant curl from his face. He looked like he hadn’t
slept

in days, and she knew exactly how he felt. Sansa and Missandei had kept her going through
the motions, Arya kept her busy learning how to use a knife, but there was only so much they
could
do. She knew the Stark sisters would be relieved to see them arrive at breakfast together.

Ugh. The thought of food made her stomach roil. It had been so long since food seemed
appetizing, she’d only been able to eat a little at a time, and was glad when she was distracted
or called away from it. She remembered it had been the same aer her tiny group had
somehow made it to Qarth; it had been so long since she’d had anything to eat that it took
days to nd things appetizing again.

Dany touched his cheek soly. I do love you, Jon Snow. I know you’re still caught somewhere
between who you are and who you thought you were, but I love you just the same. His
beard was longer than he usually kept it, and it felt so under her ngers.

He pulled in a deep breath through his nose, roused from sleep by her aectionate touch. He
opened his eyes to look at her, a slow smile playing about his lips as she smiled at the warmth
in his gray eyes. His mother’s eyes. “I’ve missed your face,” he whispered on a sigh. He kissed
her gently on the cheek. “Sleep all right?”

“Better than I have been,” she admitted. “You?”

He nodded. “Better and more than I’ve had in a long time, Love. Thank you for letting me
stay.”

“We both needed it,” she whispered, running her nger from his cheek to his shoulder.

“We need you to eat, too,” he said gravely. “It’s cold out and you need the energy.”
She nodded in silent agreement before she heard Ghost scratch at her door. She rolled out of
bed and opened the bedroom door. The direwolf stood in the front room, waiting. “How did
you get in?” she asked, looking at the door. It had been opened. Missandei. “Jon’s here,” she
said, stepping out and closing her outer door. “Come in and make friends again.”

Ghost followed her back, sitting next to her side of the bed as Dany securely closed her
bedchamber door. She climbed back in bed, back into Jon’s arms where it was warm.
Ghost snied at them, then circled in front of the replace to lay down and sleep.

“That went all right,” she murmured. “Much better than I thought it would. He usually
stays close enough for me to touch him. He’s letting you take one of his guarding shis, I
think.”

Jon restrained himself from pulling her tighter against him. He’d let her lead. He was here by
her
grace and will alone, and he wasn’t going to screw that up. Not again. To his surprise and
delight, she tucked herself in closer, turning away from him and letting him curl around her. He
kissed her
gently where her spine met her shoulders, the bumps of it more prominent than before.
She hummed soly, pulling his hand around so his arm was wrapped around her waist, his
hand resting over her heart. “We should get up soon,” she whispered. “The light is
coming.”
He lied his head to look toward the long and narrow window. The darkness outside was
lightening to gray. He squeezed her gently and buried his nose in her hair, letting out a sigh
of relief and contentment. “I know,” he answered. “But I’m putting it o as long as I can.”

“I don’t want to leave, either,” she murmured, turning in his arms, giving him a sweet kiss to
his lips. She felt him freeze for a moment under her touch, but returned her kiss, keeping it
gentle and . . . it felt respectful. Like he wasn’t going to do anything but follow her lead. He
was submitting to her in a way that was very unlike Jon. She decided to take another leap,
and she pushed her lips harder against him, insistent and warm.

He pulled back. “I don’t want to refuse you,” he whispered. “But I don’t know the right thing
to do.”

She hesitated, looking from his mouth up to his eyes. “I don’t, either,” she whispered. “All I
know
right now is that I want to stop hurting. I want you to stop hurting.” She paused for a
moment,
 just looking at him. “This is going to be awkward, trying to nd our way to a place where we’re
not, Jon.” She looked down, tracing her ngers over his chest aimlessly. “I think we should just
stop thinking so much about this and move forward for now. There’s too much to be done.”

He stared at her for a moment, reading her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, and it was
like she was liing o her mask when she opened them. She let him see her again, not with her
defenses up, but the Daenerys he’d married, the one who allowed herself to be vulnerable
and, at times, emotional.

“I love you,” he whispered, and her heart began to pound in her chest, the ache swelling
within her at his words.

“I love you, Jon,” she whispered back, coming back to him for another
kiss.

He pulled away reluctantly aer a moment, looking at her. “Let’s get dressed and go eat,”
he urged. “There’s much that needs doing today.”

She nodded in agreement. “Priorities,” she whispered.

“We are one of those priorities,” he emphasized, assuring her. “I promise we are. Tonight, we’ll
have the whole night to talk and get this straightened out. Let’s take care of everything we
can today, now that we’re better rested with clearer heads.”

“Clearer heads,” she echoed, smiling soly. “I do feel that.”

Jon reluctantly let her go so she could get dressed. He watched for a few minutes,
completely relaxed. It had been a long time since he’d felt like that. He watched as she
pulled on a dress over her shi, the lacing at the back just beyond her reach. He sat up and
pulled on his pants,

gesturing for her to turn around so he could do it for her. “This dress . . .” he began, tugging
at the laces. “I know this one. We seem to get along nicely.”
She nodded. “I don’t have very many warm ones yet. I have trunks lled with clothes from Essos,
though. The one I wore the day we . . .” She trailed o. “I hadn’t worn that one yet.”

“I’ll always remember that one. You made a beautiful bride, Daenerys. I’m the luckiest fool in
the world,” he whispered, kissing her on the neck before tying the laces and tucking them
inside her skirt. He pulled the laces of her skirt together so the sides of the fabric met.

The pressure around her waist was too much. It made her feel slightly sick. “Jon . . .” she
began, turning her head to look at him. “Could you loosen that a little? It’s uncomfortable.”

He looked down at his work, then unlaced it completely. Oh thank gods. She took a deep
breath.
“I think the lacing is wrong,” he began, then redid the whole waist, making sure that the
sides
two matched up smoothly. He tied it closed again.
“Better?”

She nodded. It was snug, but not making her sick. “Thank
you.”

He pulled on his jerkin and laced his pants shut, stepping into his boots. “Breakfast?” he
asked, oering her his arm. She quickly ran her ngers through her loose hair, then braided it
back in one long braid that fell to her waist. She’d worry about getting it xed later.

“Ghost? Are you coming?” she asked, turning to look at him. Ghost rolled over onto his side,
looking at her upside down. She scoed at him and clicked her tongue indulgently, smiling. “I’ll
bring you something, then.”

Jon snorted and looked at Dany. “You’re spoiled him useless, you know. I blame you for this.” He
pointed at Ghost and looked him in the eyes. “You’re insuerable, you know that, right? What
happened to the erce direwolf that fought wights Beyond the Wall? I haven’t seen him in
weeks.”

Daenerys looked at Jon and hued out a laugh before turning back to Ghost. “I’ll leave the door
open, then. Come out when you
want.”

“People are going to stare if we go in together,” she said soly, stepping into the passageway
with him.

“They always stare,” he pointed out carelessly as they walked down the lit hallway.

“Yes, but you’re not sulking in a corner with a black cloud over your head this morning,”
she answered.

“No, I’m not,” he agreed, keeping his voice low. “I held my wife all night.”

“It might be best if we sat apart,” she pointed out reluctantly. “We don’t need anyone thinking
we’re acting immorally, Jon. The last thing we need is for the North to look at their king as a
man who would take a woman’s honor, no matter how freely she gave it, or for them to look
at me and think I’ve somehow coerced you in order to gain the North for the Seven
Kingdoms.”

He stopped short and looked at her for a long moment. She simply let him look as he mulled it
over in his mind. He slowly let her go, but she could tell it was with the greatest reluctance.
She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “It will be ne. We’ll talk tonight.”

He gestured for her to go ahead of him, nodding at her words. She walked alone, hearing
him wait a few paces before walking behind her to the Great Hall.

Arya looked up from her plate, eyes gleaming with mischief. She kicked Dany’s customary
chair out between her and Sansa so she could sit. Jon walked in, sitting on Arya’s other side,
pulling out his chair and sitting down. “Good morning to you,” she nearly laughed out. “Sleep
well?”

“I did actually, thank you,” Dany answered. Her insides lurched and she held her breath – her
eggs smelled less than appealing. What was wrong with her? She liked eggs. She stared at
her
plate for a long moment. She’d gone entirely too long without an appetite. She needed to x
that.

She chanced a glance at Jon, but he was already eating from a plate of fried mashed turnips
and

some sort of meat . . . she had to look away, her stomach roiling and completely turning over.
She knew the food at the Wall had been less than savory, but . . . How can you eat that,
Jon?

“Daenerys, are you all right?” Sansa whispered, nudging her soly.

Dany nodded, taking a deep breath though her mouth to keep from smelling her eggs. “I’m ne,”
she assured Sansa. “Thank you. I just need . . .”

“You need to sit and eat,” Jon answered quietly, nearly leaning over Arya to say it.

Arya leaned back in her chair in over-exaggeration. “Good morning, Jon,” she laughed,
then pushed him back by his jaw. “Get out of my face.”

Daenerys picked up her fork and brought a bite to her mouth. It tasted good, just smelled awful,
so she ate several more bites, the food settling in her stomach, comfortable and warm. She
broke o a piece of bread and added a bit of butter to it. That was even less complicated than
the eggs had been. Jon caught her eye and he gave her a small smile. He was pleased she was
eating. Warmth began spreading to her ngers and toes. She’d been cold and sad for so long that
she’d forgotten how pleasant it felt to eat and be warm.

Sansa squeezed her hand under the table. “You’ve got color in your cheeks,” she
whispered. “You and Jon . . . . ?”

Dany choked back her laugh. “No, not exactly. We simply slept next to each other,” she
whispered back. “This is going to take time, Sansa, and it’s time we can’t exactly aord right

now.”
She looked up. Several members of the Northern gentry were breaking their fast in the Hall,
and a few were inconspicuously watching her and Sansa. Lady Stark had a reputation for
being enigmatic, unsmiling, and cold. Yet she was sitting and having a giggle with the Queen as
though they were mere children. She wondered briey if it would be better if they didn’t seem
so familiar with each other, but then she decided she’d let Sansa worry about it instead.

Soon enough, they were nished and moving tables so everyone could gather around Jon’s map
for instruction. He would take the rst wave with Rhaegal, wanting her to follow with Drogon
aer the rst heavy raid.

She leaned over the tables, reaching for one of the Dothraki pieces, moving it to the front,
earning her several grunts and short words of approval from her Dothraki kos. One stepped
forward and said something quietly in her ear, the guttural sounds foreign to the rest of
their ears except her own. She turned to look at him, then nodded, moving two additional
pieces

forward, anking the Northern archers and cavalry.

Varys appeared from the main doors of the Hall and whispered something in Jon’s ear. Jon
dropped what he was doing and followed Varys out. Dany watched them for a moment,
then turned back to the table, answering questions while trying not to worry.

Jon didn’t appear for lunch, though Ghost wandered through, seeking her out and settling at
her feet. She picked though her food, worried about what it all could mean.

Lord Tyrion appeared at her side as she pushed the remnants of her meal away and took a sip
of her water. “Your Grace, there’s been a . . . development,” he said quietly. “His Grace and a
few other of the Lords are waiting for you in Jon’s private quarters.”

She stood to follow him, excusing herself from the meal to the others dining with her. She
followed Tyrion back to Jon’s rooms, concern mounting as the number of guards increased
along the passageway. She entered the room, immediately face to face with Jon.

“Your Grace,” he whispered, his face ashen. His formality seemed so out of place until
she noticed the number of men in the room.
Instantly, her heart was pounding and her head swimming. She felt sick. “What is it?
What’s happened?”

One of Jon’s friends, a Wildling man . . . Tormund, stepped forward, shaking his head. “Eastwatch
has been breached,” he said. He towered over her as he came to her side. “The Night King has
your dragon. They burned the Wall with blue re.”

Jon rushed them, cursing at Tormund, but she couldn’t understand his actual words, just his
sharp tone. The world swirled heavily for a moment, someone shouting to Jon to catch her,
then his strong, warm hands were easing her down to the ground. Viserion.

Jon’s face loomed above hers, gradually coming into focus. She was on the oor, the stones hard
under her rear, but her back was inclined and warm. Moving. She was leaning back on Ghost.

“Daenerys,” he said soly to her, then turned. “Water,” he ordered. He took the cup and held it
against her lips. “Drink some. No, don’t get up. Stay here, just drink.”

She did as she was told, swallowing the cold, snow laden water slowly before pulling back.
Jon gave the cup away, looking at her intently. “I’m . . . I’m all right, I think,” she said quietly.
The events just before she fell came back to her. She looked up at Jon, feeling the tears sting
her
eyes. “Viserion. Jon, they took my . . .” She looked around the room, knowing none of
them would understand. “They took my baby from me.”

“They did,” he conrmed, helplessly knowing he would be unable to comfort her. He looked
from her to Tormund and back again. “He was meant to say it with a bit more delicacy, my
Queen, but the army of the dead has breached the Wall and are marching South. We’ve got
to stop them.”

Missandei came for her then, and between Jon’s strong and steady arms and Missandei’s so,
soothing ones, they got her on her feet. Propriety kicked in, and she leaned away from Jon
onto her friend instead, letting Missandei guide her to a chair to sit. Jon brought the water
back to
her, setting the cup comfortably close on a small table. He asked the men to reconvene in
an hour to let the Queen recover.

She watched as they all led out of the room, leaving her alone with Jon and Missandei, Ghost at

her side as Jon come to hold her by the hand, standing next to her. “They brought him back
from the dead, Jon,” she said, looking up at him hopefully. “We can get him back . . .” she trailed
o as
he began vehemently shaking his head at her.

“No, Love, he’s not back from anywhere. He’s still dead. Just . . . he’s one of them now. There’s
no coming back from where he’s gone, what’s le is his shell, but nothing that made him
your child,” Jon said gently.

“So, it’s worse than being dead,” she whispered, nally understanding. She steeled herself.
“We’re going to have to kill him again, aren’t we?”

He sighed and turned to walk across the room. “I’m afraid so,” he conrmed. “And our war has
 just gotten a lot more complicated.”

She shook her head. “No, it hasn’t. You and I, we’ll need to both be in the air at the same
place, at the same time. The Night King can’t ghto two of us if we work in tandem.” She
stood slowly, Jon rushing back to her side to help her, but she waved him o. “I’m ne now, Jon.
I’m
ne, I promise. We have a lot of work to do.”

Jon led her back to his bedchamber and closed the door. He stood looking at her for a long
moment. “We should make our political alliance public knowledge, Daenerys,” he said
slowly. “We still need to sort all our personal things of course, but the sooner we make a
political marriage happen, the better.”

“I thought we were going to discuss this later?” she asked, confused. “I’m not
understanding why it needs to be brought up now when there’s so much . . .”
“Both Lord Wyman and Lord Manderly suggested it would be a good idea, and Lady Mormont
concurred,” he answered. “Tormund showed up and that’s why Tyrion called us away, to tell us
about Viserion, so we could come up with a way to tell you. Tormund fucked that up, but one
of the rst items aer the dragon was discussed was when I was going to join with you in a
political marriage for the benet of the realm. I’m bringing it up now so you’re aware of just
how well respected you are in the North. You have all of our support here, Daenerys.”

She blinked slowly, processing what he was saying for several long minutes before
responding. “When would they see us married?” she asked, reaching out to place a hand on
his arm.

“The sooner, the better,” he answered. “Lady Mormont’s words, not mine.”

She stepped away from him and walked over to the window, watching the snow fall from the tall
and narrow slit in the stones that exposed the outside world. She stared at the godswood,
the view from Jon’s room perfect. She nodded slowly. “We should discuss our issues now
then, shouldn’t we?” she asked. “If it is the will of our people, I am ready to see it done.”

He nodded. “They’ll be back to discuss battleelds shortly,” he answered, his voice lled with
regret. “We’re going to have to make it fast.” He looked at her seriously. “I regret not speaking to
you for so long, Dany. It’s a mistake that I will not forget or repeat, I swear it. I’m sorry for what
I’ve done. I’m sorry my actions hurt you so deeply and completely unfairly.”

The deep ache in her chest and throat had returned. She looked down at the oor, back out the
window, and at the re before returning to Jon’s gaze. She took a deep breath. “Please don’t do
it again, Jon. I don’t think I could survive it. I forgive you this once, but please don’t put us in
this position again.”

He came to her then, his steps fast and harsh against the oor as he reached her side and
wrapped his arms around her, kissing her gently on the forehead as he held her tightly. “I can
keep that promise as long as you tell me when you’re hurting so we don’t pull away from
each other.”

“I promise,” she assured him. “I can keep that promise.” She lied her chin toward him in an
invitation to kiss her. Warm lips met her own, then he was pulling on her upper lip,
deepening the kiss, seeking her permission which she gave without pausing to second guess
it. His hands came up to her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks as they kissed, his warm
tongue sliding against hers, equal parts erotic and loving.

He pulled back to look at her aer a long moment. “I love you,” he breathed out. “I love you
so, so much, Daenerys.”

She kissed him again, chasing his mouth for a moment before raising her eyes to his. “I love
you, Jon. I love you, Aegon. I don’t care which one you decide to be. I love the man who
holds this heart in his chest,” she put her hand over his heart. “We will rule together.” She
would have gently teased him for being emotional if his burning eyes weren’t so sincere, so
instead she pressed her mouth to his again.

A knock at the door pulled them apart a few minutes later. He looked at her for a moment, an
amused smile on his face. “Have Missandei go tell Sansa to prepare for a wedding tonight.
We’ll see to it that our people’s will be done.”

She grabbed his arm, her look serious before her mouth upturned into a mischievous
quirk. “There will be a bedding ceremony this time, Jon,” she warned him, keeping her
voice low.

He lurched forward slightly before gripping her arm tightly. “No, there won’t,” he answered
immediately. “I won’t have it.”

“These are dark days, Jon. Let’s have one good thing for the people to remember when
darker days come,” she teased. “It will be ne.”

“I choose the men who bring you to bed, then,” he gritted

out.

“No, I’ll choose my own,” she countered, asserting herself. “I know far better than you who I
can trust to touch me.”
“True,” he agreed, backing down. He looked at her intently. “Who do you trust for me?”
he asked.

She laughed lightly at that. “I don’t need to trust them,” she answered honestly. “I know
they’re not going any further than our bedroom door. I put my faith in you and you alone. Not
them.”

“Well, then for my sake . . . I know in Essos that smallclothes aren’t really . . . but would you
consider wearing some tonight,” he halfway joked. “More for their sakes than mine, actually.
We don’t need anyone like Lord Wyman keeling over if he gets an accidental glimpse of . . .” He
gestured at her.

Mindful of the gathering leaders in the outer room, she kept her laugh low and private,
covering her mouth while her shoulder shook. “I can’t that happening . . . surely he knows that
all women
have the same parts?” She went to the door and opened it, turning back to look at him.

“Please,” he asked, trying not to sound like he was begging although he knew that’s exactly
what he was doing.

“I may,” she answered, tilting her head slightly. She had to bite down on her lip to keep from
laughing at Jon’s expression.

He followed her out, watching as she spoke quietly to Missandei. Dany turned back to the
table, and her friend quickly exited the chambers as they resumed their strategy. It would be
done. He couldn’t help the feeling of happiness that was welling in him. It was a mixture of
happiness and relief. He had come so close to losing everything he’d begun to hold dear.

Finally, aer several hours of discussion and some argument, they had feasible plans that
could be altered uidly depending on what reconnaissance was brought back.

Satised, she sat back. “My lords,” she began. “Your King in the North, Jon Snow, has done as
you requested, and asked for my hand. I accept his oer of marriage as I, just as all of you, feel it
would best serve the realm with this alliance and bond.”

“When, Your Grace?” Lord Glover asked, looking from Jon to

Daenerys.

“We want your ask of us to be done as soon as possible,” she answered carefully. “We
agreed upon tonight.”

As Jon stood beneath the weirwood that night, Lords Manderly, Cerwin, and Glover behind
him, Lady Mormont at his side, he hid his grin. Sansa had outdone herself, the lanterns and
candles glowing warmly despite the gently falling snow. The air was still in the godswood, a
quiet hush had fallen though it was lled with witnesses. Jon thought of the dragonglass cave.
He felt the same sense of conviction now as he did then. This was right. This was good.

Sansa appeared, walking condently through the crowd, eectively parting it. She smiled at him a
little, her eyebrow raised as she looked him over. She came to stand beside him. “Thank you,”
he whispered to her.

“You’re welcome. You owe me,” she whispered, teasing him. “She looks beautiful, Jon, I’m
warning you now. Don’t forget to speak or do something else
embarrassing.”

Jon nodded, thinking himself adequately prepared, but when Daenerys walked though the
wood before stopping where Lord Tyrion indicated, Jon felt as though someone had knocked
the air out of him.

Her hair had been done in the simple braids of a Northern Lady, pulled back and tied, but tied in
such a way that the braids were bound in the shape of owers, forming a crown of sorts, a circlet

over cascading curls of liquid silver-gold. Her dress of ivory wool and samite was in stark
contrast to her Targaryen cloak. Despite the golden glow of her skin that suggested hot
summers and
mild winters, she looked every bit a woman of the
North.

“Who comes before the old gods?” Lady Lyanna Mormont’s voice rang out, strong and
true.

Jon braced himself, hoping that Tyrion would stick to the plan. “Daenerys of House Targaryen
has come here to be wed,” Tyrion called back. “Trueborn, heir to the Iron Throne, she comes to
beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?” There had been deep discussion
about the wording. Daenerys was against Tyrion announcing her as the rightful Queen of the
Seven Kingdoms, saying that it was presumptuous and wouldn’t go over well with the North.
She plainly stated that she would respect the sovereignty of the North until aer she married
Jon, and she knew the subtlety would be noted and respected.

Lady Mormont nudged Jon with her foot. “Stop staring at her and speak,” she
whispered.

Jon swallowed. “Jon Snow, King in the North. Who gives her?” he asked, his voice sounding a
lot steadier than he felt.

“Lord Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock,” Tyrion answered. “Her Hand, condante, and protector.”

Lady Mormont looked from Jon to Daenerys. “Queen Daenerys, will you take this man, our King

in the North?” she asked.

Daenerys stepped forward with Tyrion to stand in front of Jon. “I take this man,” she said soly. I
promise, Jon. I promise you I’ll love you for as long as I breathe. Tyrion took her hand and put
it in Jon’s outstretched one.

“With this union, the North joins the South, the Seven Kingdoms united once more. This is an
act of faith, an oath that must not be broken by either side,” Lady Lyanna announced. “May
we all have good fortune in the coming war.”
Tangent Chapter 8

I feel compelled to warn you all . . . most of this chapter is sex. If you’re not into that, cool,

wait for the next chapter. that one will be . . . less consumed by it, anyways.

 AHEM: please reference Wiki of Ice and Fire for bedding ceremony information, including book vs.
show. There’s quite a discrepancy between the two. Also, incest was condemned and
MORE taboo in real medieval Europe than now contrary to what some of you have tried to
lecture me. Google “6 degrees of cosanguinity”. That’s a great place to start.

The wedding feast was simple fare, but lling; Dany found she was growing used to the heavier
foods of the North and enjoyed her meal of roasted meats and fresh bread, cheeses and
mashed
roasted root vegetables. She reveled in sitting next to Jon in the open for the rst time, able to
appreciate the intimacy of the meal while they talked together, their allies and friends
looking
on, watching for signs that the newlyweds were at least compatible. She suddenly realized
she
and Jon had never been quite social together and had hardly spoken to each other in public
since their arrival in Winterfell. It felt both illicit and wonderful that she and Jon had already
been married for weeks, a secret that they planned on keeping, along with Jon’s name for
the time being.
Looking around at the room full of celebration, it hit her; with the help of the Stark sisters,
they’d done it. They’d managed to get the approval that she’d desperately wanted and needed,
and she

allowed herself the moment to enjoy it.

The merriment around them grew as the ale began to ow. Dany watched Jon out of the corner
of her eye as the evening wore on, her amusement growing as he became skittish until he was
not at all able to pay attention to what she was saying. She kept her laughter inside, not
wanting to spoil the joke.

Jon, however oblivious he was toward Dany’s mirth, kept nervously waiting for someone to
start shouting obscenities and rude jokes, initiating the bedding. He was planning to put a
stop to it before it could become a thing if he could, so he was trying to stay alert. He recalled
the story where Ned had not wanted a bedding either when he’d married Catelyn, saying it
would have been unseemly to break someone’s jaw at his own wedding.

Daenerys had already quietly slipped word to Lord Tyrion hours earlier that there was to be no
bedding ceremony. Her Hand had readily agreed that it was for the best, and she sighed with
her relief. She realized later, aer she recalled hearing about Tyrion’s wedding to Sansa that
neither

one of them would nd it humorous or entertaining as it was meant to be. He had promised to
spread the word and that when the time came, she and Jon would be able to simply slip
away
from the feast and be gone for the night without anyone even shouting aer them.

She leaned over toward him and he met her halfway, but only slightly paying attention to her, his
eyes on the crowd of people in front of them. “Jon,” she said. “Look at me.”

“Can’t,” he said nervously, scanning the lled Hall. “I’m not letting these assholes start
something.”

She realized it had gone from funny to torture, so it was no longer enjoyable for her. Poor
Jon. I’m sorry, my love. “Let’s just go. No one will miss us,” she whispered, tugging on his
sleeve.

He sighed audibly in relief. “That’s the best idea you’ve had all day,” he said, jumping up
and taking her hand, pulling her quickly into a back passageway.

As soon as the heavy door shut behind them, she burst out laughing. He stopped to look at
while she laughed, then was suddenly pushing her up against the wall as she struggled to quell
her
her laughter. He leaned in close, giving her time to refuse, but she wrapped her arms around
neck, pulled him closer still, and kissed him solidly on the mouth. “I told Tyrion this aernoon
to not allow a bedding, and to put the word out to the ones most likely to attempt to start
something to . . . not,” she whispered when she pulled back.

The look on his face was worth it. Realization washed through him and he hued out a laugh at
his own nervousness. “That wasn’t very fair,” he laughed, then kissed her again before letting
her
go so she could slide down to the oor. “Your room or mine?” he asked.

“I’ve had your things brought to mine already; I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous,” she
answered, taking him by the hand. “You had fewer things to move,” she explained as they
made their way to her quarters.

Once inside, he looked around, noticing how well their possessions blended together. She
could
feel him watching her as she carefully pulled the silver dragon pin from her hair, releasing her
braids. She caught him looking at her, so she turned to face him, an expectant smile on her
face. “Let’s talk,” she suggested, coming up to him.

“Right,” he answered, slightly confused as she turned her back to him, but then realized she
needed his help getting her dress undone. She could feel him fumble with the line of pearl
buttons until he established a rhythm to it, and then laid the back of her dress open,
exposing the next layer beneath.

“Should I start?” she oered, her nimble ngers undoing her complicated plaits with ease and
combing them into so waves without the aid of a brush.

“Probably,” he answered. “This is taking some . . . concentration.” He helped her out of the
beautiful outer dress, then went to work on the lacings of the under layer.

“We’ve covered the apologies part of the conversation,” she began. “Is there anything you’d like
to add?”
“I’d like to add that . . .” he yanked the lacing loose, snapping it. “Sorry,” he said, handing the
broken lacing to her over her shoulder and she made a murmur of thanks before he
continued. “I love you and I’m determined to not fuck this up again. I’m grateful you’re
willing to give me another chance, Daenerys. I don’t deserve it, and I promise I’ll make it up
to you somehow.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, turning to face him, letting the under layer drop, leaving her in
a long and so lamb’s wool shi. The whiteness of it made her skin seem to glow. She rested
her hands on his shoulders. “What are your intentions tonight, Jon?”

He blew out a breath and looked at the ceiling, hoping for an answer. When none came, he
looked down at her again. “I fully intend to be here with you in any capacity you’ll have me,”
he answered nally, admiring her loose hair with his ngers. “I didn’t mean for this,” he gestured
between the two of them, her dress on the oor and his polished armor, “to happen again so
quickly, but I’m glad it did.”

She smiled at him. “I’m also glad we did this again. It might be our chance to start over and
I really felt it was better to give them what they wanted as soon as we were able.”

“I’m not a politician,” he said slowly. “I didn’t understand at rst why you were so willing to drop
everything and marry again, especially aer how the past few weeks have been. I get it now,
though.” He seemed to consider her thoughtfully, then let out a long breath, a glimmer of
something, sadness maybe, in his eyes. “Want to call it an early night?” he oered.

“Get undressed, then,” she said soly. She turned and went to the bed, feeling many dierent
and mixed emotions. She was unsure whether or not they should consummate the new
marriage pact that night. She was eager to sleep next to Jon again, appreciating his presence
and extra warmth. She felt happy and relieved that they’d managed to maneuver the latest set
of obstacles in front of them. She loathed feeling in limbo, especially when it came to Jon, and
while she still felt a little like they were balancing on the edge of a sword, right now things were
good and she hoped they’d be able to relax into the good and nd rmer footing sooner because
of it.

She burrowed all the way under the blankets, hiding her face in the soness of her sheets. She
was still unsure, but when he slid into the bed with her, his hand gently running over her hip
to
hold her, she turned in his arms to look at him, becoming less uncertain the closer he got to
her. When he pulled her ush against him, she relaxed in his arms, her hesitance evaporating
like steam into the air.

He was looking at her, his face open and attentive. She brought her face to his, touching noses,
smiling at him before she brought her lips to his, sliding her hands under his shirt. She could
feel
him relax under her touch, skin to skin, and he hummed into her mouth when she invited him
to deepen the kiss.

Too soon, he was pulling back for air. “Daenerys,” he whispered against her lips. “I need to
know how far we’re taking this tonight. I need to know when to stop.”

She pulled back slightly, just enough to see his beautiful gray eyes looking at her. “I feel safe
with you, Jon. I’m not certain it’s the right thing to do, but I do want to. I need you. I don’t
want you to stop.”

He pulled her tightly against him, crushing her mouth with his, pulling desperately at the
strings of her shi, suddenly in a hurry to get her naked. Yes. She sat up and pulled it over her
head, returning to him in time to push his shirt o,sighing in pleasure as her bare breasts
made contact with his chest.

Jon held her awkwardly with one hand, stripping o his smallclothes with the other, unwilling to
give up contact with her for another moment. He kicked them o,leaving them buried under the
blankets somewhere at the foot of the bed before he grabbed her leg and brought it up over
his hip, pinning her to him.

He turned them slightly so she was at on her back, one leg around his waist. He kissed her, his
eyes squeezed shut, trying . . . he was trying to tell her something with his kiss. It felt a bit like
relief, and a lot more like love. He kissed her on the side of her neck, the spot she loved,
before moving to her shoulder, then down to her breast, then down her ribs, teasing her
navel briey before . . . Oh, he’s going there already.

She let out a hu that was half laugh, half moan as he gave her a lick, tasting her. He pulled back
to look at her for a moment, her eyes meeting his briey before he looked down and dove for
her.

Her head slammed back into the pillow as he tried to eat her whole. She arched her back into
him, holding him with her legs around his shoulders, letting him feel and hear every ripple of
pleasure that wracked her body as he worked her with his mouth. It was a relief she didn’t
need
to be so painfully quiet anymore while with him, and from the sounds he was making,
he realized it, too.

Frantically, Daenerys reached down to him, wanting his hands. Jon immediately laced his ngers
with hers, pulling her nearly into a sitting position by using her hands as leverage. She couldn’t
catch her breath, what he was doing . . . she began seeing stars from lack of air, yet she
couldn’t breathe, couldn’t concentrate, the pressure and pleasure building and building, Jon
letting go of her hands and pulling her by the hips roughly to his face, then nally, oh nally, her
body began

to shake with her release, wave aer wave of intense, searing pleasure washed through her and
he let her go. She fell back against the bed and suddenly he was over her, inside her,
overwhelming her as she continued to orgasm around him.

He held himself up, only moving slightly, grinding against her to prolong her pleasure, loving
the rhythmic contractions squeezing him that made her breath hitch and heave. He nuzzled
his face into her neck, kissing her tenderly, rubbing his bearded chin against the so skin there.

Dany reached up and held him around his shoulders, pulling him down to rest his body on top
of
hers for a moment of full body contact as she managed to catch her breath. He ran a hand
down his face, returning to her neck, running his tongue over her clavicle, tasting her sweat,
inhaling her warmth.

He lied himself o her a little to see her face. “Want to turn over?” he asked.

Daenerys smiled and shook her head. “I’m happy where I am,” she whispered, reaching up
to cup his face in her hands.

“Good,” he groaned out, leaning down to kiss her for just a moment before kneeling up on
bed and wrapping her legs around his waist. She moved to sit up with him, but he gently put
one palm against her chest, holding her down. “Stay there,” he murmured. “I want to watch
you.”

She leaned back, watching him as he grabbed her behind the knees, bringing her legs
together
and holding them snugly against his chest. Oh. She fought against the urge to close her
eyes, instead focusing on his face. She reached up and cupped her breasts for him to
watch.

Instead of thrusting forward, Jon raised her hips slightly, then pulled them downward. Up and
down. The pressure inside was intense, her legs closed and squeezing him, not allowing him to
move in and out. She rolled her hips, wanting more. He spread his legs a little, giving her room
to move, and repeated his movement, guiding her up and then down, painfully slow. “How’s
that?” he asked, his voice a mix between whisper and groan.

“Good,” she gasped out. “So good.” She pinched her nipples, loving the long moan that
escaped his chest as she rolled her hips in rhythm with his hands on her.

He pulled back a little, then slammed into her, making her cry out. “Better,” he groaned
out.

“More,” she whimpered, urging him. “More, Jon.”

He stopped the slow, vertical movements, instead tucking her knees under his arms and held
her hips still as he slammed into her again. She bit her lip, trying to keep quiet.

“None of that,” he said, his voice low and rasping. He reached a nger out and tapped her lips
soly, his tenderness the complete opposite of what their lower bodies were doing. “No need
for that. I want to hear you. Let them hear. I don’t care anymore. You shouldn’t, either.”

She released her lip before he slammed into her again, narrowly missing bringing blood.
She cried out again, unable to do more than grab at her breasts. He halted, panting. “Are
you

opposed to turning over?” he asked.

She looked at him, blinking. It took a moment for his ask to register, but then she smiled
slowly as she lowered her legs from his embrace and turned over on her hands and knees.
She looked at him over her shoulder. “Like this?” she asked.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her roughly back, thrusting into her again, groaning loudly at
the feel of her as she cried out, circling his hips as he pressed as far into her as he could. It
made a
very pleasant ache bloom within her, so unlike . . . Jon was erasing memories of earlier times,
replacing them with love and pleasure where fear and pain once were. She ground back
against him, gasping out with her movements, letting him hear her. He began to move faster,
then slower, before stopping for a few moments before starting again, driving her insane.
When he stopped yet again, she was on the edge, so close, so she reached down to touch
herself. She pressed her ngers against her swollen and sensitive button and she began to
come, crying out
with it, nearly sobbing in her relief and pleasure, and she felt Jon behind her start to pound
her
in a bone-jarring rhythm before he nally joined her, nearly yelling as he began to pulse inside
her, sending her into another orgasm as he did.
Her arms gave out, and she collapsed onto the pillows beneath her, barely able to turn her
head to the side so she could breathe. Jon leaned back, holding her hips up, keeping himself
rmly seated inside her as he gasped and panted, the last bit of him spilling into her.

“Gods, Daenerys,” he groaned out nally, slipping out of her, settling her gently on the bed
before moving to lay next to her. He pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his
chin, running his hands over her back and sides, letting her gasp and heave before she
caught her breath.

“There’s probably no doubt le out there . . .” she began, but hued out a laugh instead of
nishing her thought.

“No,” he agreed. “We just need to be careful now . . . soon there will be questions . . . I’ll take
the blame if we don’t conceive, Love. I’ll take it and be glad to do so.” He was trying to be
gentle and considerate, she knew it from the bottom of her soul. She couldn’t fault him for it,
but the words hurt all the same.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” she whispered.
She
buried her face in his chest. “Hold me for now, Jon. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

He sighed, she could feel it in his chest, and he held her tightly for a moment before loosening
his hold. “I’m just the man to do that,” he said quietly, kissing her gently on the top of her
head.
“I love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered, pulling back from him, kissing him on the lips,
sighing.

“I’m one lucky, grateful man, Dany,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “Thank you for giving
me another chance. Thank you.”

She traced his collarbone with light, delicate ngers, ghting her tears. “I feel the same,” she
snied. “Just . . . don’t do that again. Don’t pull away, don’t leave me, Jon.”

He kissed her again, harder, before resting his forehead against hers. “I’ll do everything in my
power to do as you ask, Love. We still have a war to ght and win, and I will do everything I can
to keep us both alive.”

Easing himself out of bed in the early morning was one of the most dicult things Jon had done
in days. Daenerys was coiled around him, on top of him, and her hair was tangled under his
arm. He had to use the latrine, but he was determined to go and come back to bed without
disturbing her. It took several minutes for him to untangle himself, halfway grinning as she
murmured and
nally rolled over, away from him so he could move without pulling her hair or disturbing her
any further. He kissed her bare shoulder quickly before covering her with furs, grabbing his
pants and shirt from the oor. He dressed quickly in their front room so he wouldn’t make any
noise.
He closed their outer door before he started down the passageway, following it around and
past the Great Hall, which was still empty and cold in the early hours.

“King in the North!” boomed a loud voice behind him before he’d made it to his
destination.
Tormund. Fuck. Jon cringed inwardly, bracing himself for the exuberant and mildly embarrassing
interaction he was sure was about to turned and waited for his friend to catch up to him and
follow him into the latrines.

“Nice, quiet night, eh Snow?” he asked, pulling himself out and

pissing.

Jon shook his head, looking down and grinning as he did the same. There was nothing he
could possibly say to keep Tormund from talking, so he wisely decided to not give him any
extra ammunition.

“The Dragon Queen didn’t burn you alive, looks like,” Tormund continued, looking over at him,
a grin in his eyes as he appraised his friend.

“Indeed, she did not,” Jon answered, looking away. He faced the wall in front of him. “Anything
more I will not tell.”

Tormund laughed, buttoning up and then clapping Jon on the back, nearly knocking him over.
“Hope your small pecker didn’t leave her unsatised,” he laughed, leaning over to get a look at
Jon’s cock as Jon kept pissing.

“I WAS DEAD,” Jon emphasized, somewhere between laughter and frustration, nearly yelling
as he quickly nished and buttoned his pants. “You saw me when I was DEAD. At the Wall. It
was
cold. She wasn’t complaining, I’ll say that much.”

Tormund roared with laughter, turning to go. “We heard. She sounded rather happy, Jon. Keep
doing whatever you did, get her screamin’. At least you listened to me before.”

“What the fuck were you doing, pressing your ear to the door?” Jon
demanded.

“I was checking to see if you still remembered where to stick it, I was going to come in and
help,”
Tormund jested.

“I knew where to put it before you told me, at length, how to do it,” Jon shot back, shaking
his head and leaving the room. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Practice,” Tormund encouraged. “Every time she lets you near her. Make babies with her, Jon.
The world needs more dragons in it, especially if they look like her.”

Jon snorted, waving him o as he headed back to their private rooms. He grinned to himself,
thinking of what Tormund would have said if he knew just how many times he and Daenerys
had already ‘practiced’ coupling.

Ghost was sitting in their front room, silently panting, wagging his tail in greeting. “Oh, now
we’re friends, is that it?” Jon asked him. Ghost looked from him to the bedroom door. Jon
shook his head. “You’re not going in there. She’s sleeping and I want her to stay that way for a
bit longer.” Ghost yawned and curled up next to the re in the front room, his back to Jon.

Jon shook his head as he silently opened the door and made his way back to their bed. Make
babies . . . I’m trying, my friend. We’ve got a war to win rst, then, gods willing, the babies
will come.

He stood over Daenerys, watching her sleep for a moment before he shrugged out of his
shirt and dropped his pants. He slid back into bed, smoothing his hand over her hip and
turning her slightly so she would feel him and move into his arms. She did with a sleepy
sigh, making him smile as she wrapped one arm around his neck without waking, or so he
thought, until her leg came up over his hip and she pressed herself against his growing
erection, warm and wet. She hummed sleepily as she exed her leg, pulling him closer.

He kissed her forehead soly. “I thought you were sleeping,” he whispered.

“Hmmmmhmmmm,” she mumbled back, inhaling through her nose as she buried her face in
his
chest.

He chuckled at her, then nudged her over onto her back, running his hand from her face down
to her breast, down to her navel, trailing all the way to the curls at her apex before circling
back the
way he’d come. Dany hummed and melted into his touch, letting him do as he pleased while
she dried in and out of sleep. She turned so she was facing away from him, pressing herself
back
against him, wiggling her rear in his lap teasingly.

He grabbed her hips and held her tightly as he eased into her, no more foreplay needed. He
groaned out soly at her heat, and she arched in front of him, gasping out and coming fully
awake, grinding back onto him. He tried to hold on for her, he really did, but it was only a few
moments before he’d lost control, thrusting into her fast and shallow, nding his release. He
reached around and played with her soly before he withdrew, relieved when he felt her begin
to pulse around him and cry out with it. Thank gods.

Jon kissed her clumsily on the ear, then down her neck to her shoulder, his breath coming in
hot pants against her skin. He wrapped an arm around her waist as he leaned his head against
the back of hers, inhaling strands of her hair but he didn’t care. She whimpered slightly as he
nally withdrew from her, and he moved to lean on top of her so he could see her face.

“Good morning,” he murmured against her

lips.

“Mmmm,” she hummed back, stretching. “I like this, waking up with you in the morning.”

“No more having to sneak around,” he whispered, agreeing. “No more leaving you in the
middle of the night for a cold tent.”

She shook her head, smiling at him. “I’m glad of

that.”

“I love hearing you, too. We’ll have more of that,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows at
her before tickling her with his nose in her neck, his hand cupping her breast.
She giggled at him, looking away and scooting to the edge of the bed. He watched her as she
walked across the room to retrieve her clothes, admiring the curves of her body. She seemed . .
. dierent somehow. He couldn’t put his nger on it, though. It could simply be that it had been
over two weeks since he’d last had her, or it could be the light in the room. He hadn’t really
had an opportunity to appreciate her body with natural light coming in from outside. If it had
been light out on the journey to Winterfell, she’d been mostly clothed when they’d coupled,
and in the darkness of her tent, the braziers had not been able to do her body justice.

She was magnicent, standing in nearly perfect prole, aware he was looking at her as she
pulled a clean shi over her head, tying the neckline closed before turning back to look at him.
She smiled soly. “Like anything you see, King in the North?” she asked coyly.

Jon grinned at her. “I see my wife looking at me with a smile on her face. I can’t think of
anything I’d rather see at the moment.”

“Well, your wife is about to invite a direwolf and Missandei in here to help her dress. You
might want to . . . ” she gestured with her hand in a shooing wave. “At least put some pants
on.”

He leaned back in the bed and grinned at her. “I’ll help you undress,” he
teased.

“I said dress, not undress,” she claried. “I’m opening the door now, Jon.” She moved toward the
door.

He hopped up quickly and pulled on his pants, smallclothes forgotten as he buttoned and tied
the lacing, his cheeks burning. Missandei had accidentally walked in on them once while still
onboard the ship before they reached White Harbor, and he didn’t want her seeing him
naked again. They’d both been extremely embarrassed, though Daenerys had thought
nothing of it. Her two worlds were not meant to meet that way.

Ghost ambled in and took his place at Dany’s side of the bed, watching them
reproachfully. Daenerys reached out and lovingly stroked his face. “I’m sorry,” she
you’re going to have to move to the front room for a bit. Jon’s going to sleep in here with
me now.”

Jon nodded. “It’s going to be noisy in here. You’ll nd quieter quarters outside.”

Dany made a sound of disapproval. “No, he’s staying in the front room, Jon. I’m not kicking
him out into the snow.”

“He’s a direwolf. He belongs outside. You’ve spoiled him into thinking he’s a bloody pet,” he
responded.

“I’d have Drogon and Rhaegal in here with me if I could, too,” she answered with a
shrug.

“I’m sure you would,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t make it even a bit . . . right.”

Missandei tapped on the slightly open door. “Daenerys? Are you . . .”

“I’m decent,” Jon answered. “It’s safe.”

She stied her embarrassed giggle, then came in, nding Daenerys already seated and waiting
for help with her hair.

Jon grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, then his leather jerkin. He nished dressing,
then walked over to Dany, kissing her cheek soly. “See you at breakfast,” he said gently.
Tangent Chapter 9

 A/N: Get ready. I wrote this entire chapter this morning. It owed out like some magical entity all
it’s own, and I was just the instrument that put it to print. I had not intended this AT ALL.
Stay with me, dear readers.

Missandei arranged her hair in the simple Northern style braids, brushing out the rest of her
hair to form silky curls down her back and shoulders, then helped her to dress. Her gray
woolen dress, which was beginning to hang loosely on her, felt better and t better than it had.
Already she was putting on a bit of weight, regaining lost ground despite the cold. Normally,
she
wouldn’t care to gain, but now wasn’t the time to worry about it. It was time to focus on
winning a war. Her gure ran in a far last place when it came to her current concerns.

A loud and raucous greeting roared up as she entered the Great Hall, cups raising and people
cheering as she blushed and looked toward Jon, who was smiling as he stood and pulled out her
chair, kissing her soly on the cheek in greeting, causing the crowd in front of them to erupt in
noise all over again before she sat down and he seated himself next to her. He rested his hand on
her arm for a moment aectionately before waving her plate over to be set down in front of her.
Her stomach opped, but readily she consumed the sausages before taking inventory of the rest.

She watched Jon handle the mild teasing and taunts with grace and humor, actually grinning
the whistles and gestures, even returning a few of them in good spirits, especially toward
Tormund. She smiled at him, watching him go from decorous with the Northern gentry to
much more . . . interesting and expressive with the Wildlings in the Great Hall. When things
calmed down a bit, he’d relaxed a little too, leaning back in his chair to watch her as she
picked through her food to eat her eggs and then the rest. It was going to take some time and
patience to get

back to eating properly, she could see that now, but it wasn’t as impossible as it had felt only
a few days before. Jon had said she wasn’t eating enough to keep her warm, and she knew
she
was going to need to stay warm on Drogon if they were going to be ying in the snow.

She’d already experienced how cold it could get up there when she’d rescued the men from
Beyond the Wall back to Eastwatch. She’d had diculty dismounting Drogon, her ngers and legs
grown sti with cold despite the dragon’s warmth beneath her. Ser Jorah had been the last man
still on Drogon when she fully realized her predicament. He’d carefully beaten the ice o her
coat, apologizing profusely as she grunted out in pain before coaching her down, catching her
as she slid into the icy snow below. He’d never faltered despite her oundering for purchase on
the
ice, simply picking her up by the back of her coat and half dragging, half carrying her into
slightly warmer rooms of Eastwatch, nearly frozen through himself. She’d hid her tears as the
the
men had brought her soup and bread, seeing Jon fall through the ice over and over again,
knowing she would feel his loss for the rest of her life. When, by some miracle, Jon had
returned to her, she had directed Ser Davos to take him to her room where she waited for
him to wake, never wanting to take her eyes o him again.

She looked over at Jon now, and he turned and gave her a lopsided smile. “Tormund was
fucking with me earlier,” he said quietly, leaning close so no one else could hear. “He said he’d
been listening at our door last night.”

Dany looked at him, wide-eyed. “Do you think he actually had

been?”

Jon snorted out a laugh and shook his head. “No. I doubt it. The Wildlings have a freer view of
sex, but he respects you a lot more in a dierent way than he does me. It was meant as more of
a jab at my abilities as a husband than anything else.”

Daenerys subdued her smile a little. “He doesn’t know you’ve had many opportunities to grow
your abilities in the past weeks, does he?” she asked, raising her eyebrow at him to tease him
a little.
Jon shook his head again. “I was very tempted, but no. He would keep the secret, but it’s better
to not risk someone overhearing.” He gave her that little half smile she secretly loved, and he
put down his fork. “He also told me to practice making babies with you every time you let me
near enough to you.”

She hued out a laugh, knowing no harm was meant. She mentally bit down on the unintended
sting and swallowed it down. “Well . . . as much as I love that kind of practicing with you, we
have other practicing that needs doing today. We’re taking Drogon and Rhaegal North.”

“How far North?” Jon asked, eyeing her.

“Over the Wall near Castle Black,” she said. “You need to see what it’s like going a
further distance in the cold.”

He looked pointedly at her plate. “You need to eat all of that and then some if you plan on not
freezing to death,” he said, breaking a hot bread roll in half and buttering it for her. He pressed
half into her hand and set the other on her plate. She cringed at how closely he’d put the
bread to the carefully sorted onions. She’d narrowed down the oending foods to discover that
it was mostly just those, so avoided the onions at all costs. She said nothing to him about it
and simply began to eat again, clearing her plate to his satisfaction, getting up and leaving
with a smile and nod to the rest of the breakfast celebrations.

She pocketed half of the roll and took it back with her to their rooms, taking it out and eating it
as she changed out of her clothes. She stood naked as she nished it, enjoying the warm air on
her body for a few moments as she looked at the layers of clothes she would need to put on.
She became immediately aware the moment Jon walked into their room, her skin tingling in
anticipation. She didn’t know how, but she knew he’d followed her for more reason than just to
get ready to brave the cold.

He eased his hand around her waist from behind, kissing her shoulder. “You should have
warned me you’d be naked,” he whispered in her ear gruy.
She snickered a little and resisted the urge to turn to look at him. “You’re in my room,” she said
instead. “I’m bound to be naked in it at least sometimes.”

Dany heard him pull the lacing from his shirt and the so sound of the fabric when it hit the
stone oor. “You’re going to be naked for a little bit longer in our room,” he murmured, pressing
his bare chest to her back. She closed her eyes as his hands came up to cup her breasts.
“You’re
warm,” he groaned out. She bit her lip to keep any sound from escaping her lips, knowing it
would tease him and drive him crazy. She swallowed heavily, but forced her lungs to slow her
breathing.

“It’s warm in here,” she answered, leaning back into him before turning her head to look at
him, his erection nudging at her through his pants. “Quick recovery,” she commented teasingly
as she looked down at him over her shoulder.

Jon shrugged, laughing a little as he untied his pants and dropped them to the oor, kicking
them away. “What can I say, except that I’m obsessed with my wife?” he asked, running his
hands down her hips and pulling her against him rmly. “I’m glad I can nally be with you out in
the open, Love.” One hand wandered down and began to touch her soly, running his ngers
back and forth against her slit the way he knew she liked. He’d learned that early on, locking it
rmly into his memory as soon as he’d discovered it. He’d been very attentive those rst few
nights, touching and watching her, learning to see what she liked best, knowing that he would
need to pay attention and know quickly how to change pace, angle, pressure . . . the nest
subject he’d ever studied. Daenerys. He hummed quietly against her shoulder as he took his rst
hit of her scent. The possibilities were endless with her; he was willing to try nearly anything as

long as she was willing, and he’d paid attention and so quickly learned what made her so.

Dany hummed in the back of her throat and leaned her head back on his shoulder, enjoying the
easy way he was warming her up, playing with her as she relaxed into his touch while he
brought her body to full attention.

Too soon, he was pulling his hand away, a disappointed sound slipping out of her before she
could stop it. He laughed soly, but turned her to face him and kissed her as he backed them
up to the bed. Jon lied her easily by the thighs, her arms wrapping around his neck as he
leaned
forward and dropped her soly on the bed as she pulled him down with her. He kissed her lazily
nipple as he played with the other. She arched into him, sensitive and needful, ready for
him.

Jon didn’t make her wait, either. He moved up to kiss her soly, easing into her as she
panted out a gasp as he hummed out a moan of appreciation against her mouth. “I love
you,” she
whispered, kissing him along his chin, squeezing his hips with her legs, her arms around
his shoulders.

He captured her mouth with his, tugging at her upper lip as he ground against her, making her
whimper at the pleasure of it. “And I love you,” he whispered back, pulling back nearly all the
way before plunging into her again slowly. “You feel amazing,” he groaned out, propping himself
up on his elbows, cradling her beneath him, his hands tucked under her shoulder blades,
holding her close.

“Jon,” she whimpered, letting out a tremulous moan, moving her hips against him, the easy
and slow pace exactly what she needed. This wasn’t the frantic fucking they’d done last night,
nally reunited aer so many weeks apart, this was Jon making love with her. The dierence was
immense.

“Daenerys,” he answered, kissing her as he sped up their pace a little, groaning out loud as
she tilted her hips to meet his growing urgency, angling herself so every thrust was causing
friction where she needed it most. “Gods, Dany, yes.”

“Right there,” she cried out, unable to hold onto him any longer, feeling the pleasure
mounting, the pressure in her spine traveling downward and spreading through her hips,
readying her for the release about to unleash.

Jon obliged, pushing into her over and over, hovering on the edge himself, refusing to give into
it before she did. Gods, he was hard inside her, hitting every place she needed it, stroking her
deeply as she began to shake under him, throwing her head back as she cried out, her ngers
digging into his shoulders as her back arched o the bed to meet him as he followed her, coming
long and forcefully, groaning through gritted teeth as he pulsed in her, feeling her answering
throbs as her core contracted around him. Gods that was perfect. That almost never happens
simultaneously like that.
He fell forward onto her, heaving and panting, feeling her arms come up around his head,
holding him to her chest. Dany’s heart pounded under his ear, racing thunderously as her
chest heaved to suck in enough air, but slowly calmed as he caught his breath. Only then did
he pull away from her, hearing her delicious whimper as he slipped out of her. He kissed her
soly on the navel, then the sweet bit where thigh met hip, making her twitch and hu out.

Jon stood up and retrieved his pants. “We’ll need more layers than usual,” he husked out. He
refused to look over at her, sprawled on the bed as she luxuriated in the aermath of her
orgasm. If he looked, he was going to end up jumping on her again, and there were too
many things that needed to be done. Instead, he stalked over to the long table in the
corner and poured some water, taking it to her aer he drank.

She sat up and took it from him gratefully, nishing it. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed
that.”

He looked at her, tilting his face downward to eye her teasingly. “The water or . . .
”

Dany laughed. “Both,” she answered. “I needed the water and the love.”

He leaned down and kissed her, taking the glass from her hand. “Let’s go have some fun,”
he whispered, reaching out his hand to help her up.

She washed herself a little at the copper basin set out for that purpose, then returned to the
pile of clothes to dress in the layer upon layer to ward o the permeating chill. She bundled
her silver fur coat on top, turning to see Jon watching her. She pulled her hair back and
braided the end, tying it o and smiling at him.

“You should wear your Khaleesi bells tonight at dinner,” he suggested. “Your kos would like that, I
think.”
She nodded. “I only wore two last night, they’re hard to get out when they get tangled in
my hair. I’ll have Missandei help me tonight with them.”

Jon pulled on his heavy cloak and grabbed an extra belt to tie it down around him once he
was
outside. “Ready?” he asked, leaning over and kissing her gently. Ghost nudged Jon, ready to
go with him.

Dany smiled at them both. “Ready,” she echoed.

She followed Jon out to the gates of Winterfell, a crowd of people following them behind
Ghost. The dragons were still a marvel to the Northerners, and she was glad there seemed to
be no malice toward them. Ghost panted, sitting outside the gate. “Go hunt,” Jon said, giving
the direwolf an aectionate push. “You’ve been inside too much. Your pack needs their leader
to show up once in a while, right?” He pressed his forehead against Ghost’s muzzle. “See you
aer.” Ghost wagged amiably at him and trotted o,head and tail high as he disappeared over a
small rise in the hills, heading North.

Calling Drogon and Rhaegal came easily for her, so she had Jon call for them, coaching him on
how to concentrate on them as he used his mind to reach for the two dragons, asking for
Dany’s children to come home. Aer a few minutes, Jon shook his head. “I don’t think . . .”

Drogon suddenly called back to him, Rhaegal following closely, both ying low over Winterfell
toward them. She laughed a little. “You were saying something, Jon?” She reached out and laid
a hand on his shoulder, looking at him. “Well done. It’s times like this you should embrace
being Aegon Targaryen. You’re not one or the other. You’re still Jon, just more.”

He looked at her strangely for a moment, then pulled her into a warm kiss. “How do you
know what to say to make this seem like it’s perfectly natural instead of an identity crisis?”

She laughed at that, and kissed him back. “Because that’s exactly what it is,” she pointed out.
“I

think you were so stuck on the ‘either, or’ aspect instead of the ‘and, plus’ end of things
that none of it made any sense to you.”
Jon shook his head in amazement. “If you’d been a blacksmith hammering a sword . . .”
he trailed o,loving the sound of her laugh.

Walking directly to her dragons, Daenerys greeted them lovingly, gently stroking them both
while letting her mind tell them how much she loved them. They understood her mind and
her heart better than her words, anyway. She mounted Drogon, waiting for Jon to settle on
Rhaegal before they le the ground. She tied down her hood to protect her ears while she
waited, watching Jon tighten the belt around his cloak. She gave him a small smile and a
wave before Drogon began to run, his great wings spreading as his feet thundered on the
snow and ice, breaking through in some places, sending shards of ice ying through the air.
Then there was nothing, just the smooth slide into the clear, cold air. Her cheeks burned with
the cold. She looked behind her, seeing Rhaegal take ight, Jon easily able to hang on and talk
to him.

She looked to the North. Toward the Wall. She’d been to Eastwatch, but not Castle Black. Jon had
friends there, and though they’d sent the raven to them yesterday warning them of the
breach at Eastwatch, it would do some good to go and connect with them to see what they
needed beyond what could be safely requested by raven. Silently, she spoke to Drogon, asking
him to take her there, feeling him shi direction slightly, easily turning in the icy wind.

Rhaegal caught up to them, and Daenerys indicated to Jon with a hand movement that he was
to watch their le ank while she took the right. She watched him for a moment, unable to see
him as well as she’d like from such a distance, the wingspans of Drogon and Rhaegal too great
to

allow any closer contact.

She guided Drogon to turn in the air, twisting and evading in a defensive movement as Rhaegal
play attacked them, laughing and enjoying the chase before they switched and Rhaegal began
to loop and evade them, showing o his superior agility while Drogon countered with his size
and strength, not unlike the two men they were named for, actually, she thought.

They played and fought long before the Wall came into view, stark and strange against the
horizon. Jon encouraged Rhaegal to go ahead of Drogon, intending to land, but Drogon was
not

having it, tensing under Daenerys strangely. He roared out at Rhaegal, and the smaller
dragon balked, ying nearly beneath his larger brother. Drogon veered le as they ewover the
suddenly roaring out again, causing Dany to look to the right, her ank that she’d been
neglecting.

A split second before blue ames erupted in the air, she saw what had been her smallest and
sweetest child, now torn and ragged, bones showing through broken and rotting esh. Drogon
bellowed out ame in retaliation, evading the attack. Viserion, oh gods. My sweet baby, what
have they done to you?

Rhaegal immediately maneuvered behind them both in an instant, taking advantage of his
smaller size, setting the skies ablaze as he rolled in the air, chasing o the undead dragon and its
rider. Jon was yelling at Dany, but she couldn’t hear over the wind, Drogon diving away from
them to give chase, furious beyond measure. She hung onto him for her life, knowing that she
wouldn’t be able to call him o even if she tried.

Her eyes watered as the wind stung them, Drogon speeding through the sky, searching for
Jon and Rhaegal but not able to see behind her in the incoming snow that the Night King
oen brought with him.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. They were only supposed to go for a practice run, not
initiate battle. They weren’t prepared for this. Rhaegal appeared out of the corner of her eye,
level with Drogon but far to the le. He was managing to keep up, but he was pulling back,
waiting, as Drogon shied direction again, unrelenting in his speed.. She’d never felt him y this
fast, not even when they’d been ying to rescue Jon and his men. Drogon roared out beneath
her, shaking her to her very bones, half calling to his brother, half in outrage that he would
attack them, their mother.

The dragon that used to be Viserion turned in mid ight, twisting and forcing out blue ame at
them again, Drogon dely evading the attack while bringing them closer, nearly plowing them
over. Daenerys briey saw the Night King, his glowing blue eyes locking on hers before Drogon’s
claws reached out and grabbed Viserion as though he were a sh in the water, Rhaegal seizing
his opportunity, diving in and letting loose dragonre so hot it appeared white in the snow laden
sky.

The undead Viserion shrieked and tried to get away from Drogon as they spiraled downward
their struggle, Daenerys barely able to hold on as she felt them plummeting toward the
ground. Drogon arched beneath her, getting ready, and she braced herself as he let loose re
directly onto Viserion and the Night King, the ames blasting back and licking at her, burning
her clothes o as they began to fall from the sky. She was blinded by the heat of it, unable to
see anything but the re surrounding her.

She could hear nothing but Drogon’s ames and Rhaegal’s fury, so she squeezed her eyes shut as
she clung to Drogon for her life, sending prayers up to gods she had never really believed in but
needed something to believe in to keep her fear in check. Drogon. Drogon would protect her.
She prayed to Drogon, to Rhaegal, and to Jon. There was a thunderous rending in the air,
ripping, tearing, and Drogon pulled back, taking another breath. As he did, the ames cleared for
a brief moment and she saw Rhaegal y upward, the back half of Viserion clutched in his claws.
They’d torn their own brother in half. She bit back her scream of horror, her heart breaking for
her lost beloved.

The Night King was still on Drogon’s half. She was able to glimpse how close to the ground they
were, nearly over the Fist of the First Men, the treeline below them much closer than she liked.
They’d gone much further North than she’d anticipated. She shivered, her coat halfway burnt o,
but it didn’t last as Drogon let loose another mighty blast of re, warming her as her clothes
burnt. The thing that used to be Viserion shrieked beneath them, still struggling to get away.
For a brief moment, she could see Rhaegal setting re to his half of Viserion, watching it
crumble to ashes and fall to the land below. She gritted her teeth. The time for grief is later. Not
now. She forced all emotion from her mind, focusing on what was happening.

She couldn’t see anything below her, but felt Drogon nally land on the rocky outcropping,
pinning Viserion beneath him. Drogon let out a mighty roar and began his ames anew, this time
Rhaegal joining in as he landed next to them to aid his bigger brother. Jon. She chanced a
look over at them, Jon’s face obscured by his heavy cloak now loose and ragged. He’d been
in dragonre and lived.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of him, but was jarred in the struggle happening
beneath her, Jon shouting to her as she fell from Drogon’s back, tumbling over his wing and she
was in free fall for several moments before she hit the snow, narrowly missing trees and rocks.
A searing pain wracked through her as the wind was knocked from her lungs. She heaved and
struggled for breath, unable to move, her body in shock for several minutes that felt like
years before she was able to suck in a breath.
She fought the black spots in front of her eyes, blinking ercely as she gasped for breath, seeing
Drogon y upward once again, his great jaws tearing another piece o Viserion as they rose in
the air, Rhaegal following, setting the carcass alight before rending another section of Viserion
apart. They were ghting over him, she realized in her rst moment of clarity. She could see the
Night King, still clinging to the once again dead remains of Viserion, but soon became obscured
by Rhaegal’s ame and nally, his teeth. A ash of blue light exploded over them all, then the
snow was blowing ercely around them, swirling for a moment before dying down almost
completely.

Ashes began to fall around her, turning the snow grey and black with the remains of her child.
She closed her eyes as she lay back in the snow, concentrating on breathing, feeling the bite of
the cold through the burnt holes of what was le of her clothes. Another pain overcame her,
low in her back and hips. She moved her hands, taking inventory of her body, moving each
appendage slowly before assuring herself it wasn’t broken or missing. Her head pounded, but
she could move her neck, her head, all the way down to her toes. The snow had saved her, had
broken her fall.

She looked around, her mouth going dry and her body shivering at how close she’d come to
falling on the rocks to her le. She reached out with trembling ngers and rested her hand on
one. To her right was a small stand of pines, green and snow laden, as equally dangerous as the
rocks. She’d dropped in such conplete and coincidental safety she wondered briey if there truly
were gods who had heard her prayers.

Another pain seized her, and she arched her back with it, screaming out. She felt a warm gush
between her legs. She closed her eyes, afraid she’d peed herself in her shock, but no, it didn’t
feel like that at all. It was thicker, stickier. It stayed warm longer than piss would in this cold.
She rolled out of the deep hole in the snow, looking down and seeing blood. Another rush of
pain and another gush of blood as she bit her lip against the pain. She ripped what was le of
her pants o,reaching down in time to catch the little bubble of water and blood leaving her
body, the tiny baby she hadn’t even known she’d been carrying now dead in the palm of her
hand, already freezing solid in the cold.

Her mind went as white as the snow falling around her. A baby. There had been a baby. Her baby.
Jon’s baby. The fall had killed it. All that time they’d spent ghting over her not being able to
have a child, and she’d been pregnant the whole . . . Pain stabbed through her, but no further
waves of blood followed. Her heart hurt to the point she didnt know whether to scream or
just lay back and let the cold take her.

Carefully, with shaking hands and blurred eyes, she put the little frozen bubble down on the
rags
of her pants and vomited into the snow before she began to cry into the snowy ground under
her, letting the Fist absorb her tears and Targaryen blood, where the blood of the Andals and
the First Men had spilled long ago.

Drogon screamed for her, feeling her pain, searching the ground for her. She closed her eyes,
calling him, knowing he would nd her and that Jon and Rhaegal would follow. Jon. Oh gods, Jon.

Drogon landed on the cli above her, no room to land anywhere below. He called her, his trill both
gutteral and anxious at his inability to reach her, turning to roars the longer she didn’t come to
him.

Rhaegal called back, able to navigate the small clearing between rocks and trees more easily,
landing near her, Jon yelling at her from his back, unable to get to her as quickly as he wanted
to.

The black spots were back, obscuring her vision as Jon suddenly loomed above her, wrapping
his shredded cloak around her. She pointed toward her pants, “Don’t forget . . .” she
whispered, but the black spots were throbbing and growing, nally overtaking her.
Tangent Chapter 10

Warmth. She was warm. Her body ached and throbbed, her head pounded terribly, but she was

warm. No more burning snow, no more shivering cold making her muscles scream. Ashes
falling around her. She dried for a moment, then she realized she was going to be sick. She
managed
to weakly turn her head before she vomited. Warm and soothing hands with wet cloths came
to clean her, their words slurring together unintelligibly as she was moved out of the mess
with gentle hands and washed clean. The soap . . . it smelled of grass and owers . . . the purple
stalks
of owers in the sandy dirt . . . waves and waves of grass, as far as she could see . . . dry, golden
grass . . .

“Daenerys,” someone said, calling her soly from quite near. Her own someone. Her Jon.
Jon. She wanted to open her eyes for him, but all she could do was cry great, wracking sobs,
her

chest feeling as though it were coming apart in her pain and grief. Viserion. Jon’s baby. Not
even big enough to know if it was a boy or a girl. Lost. All of it, lost forever.

“Come on, Love,” Jon cajoled, calling to her again, just as soly as before. Her heart broke all
over again at his tenderness, one of his warm and loving hands stroking her cheek while the
other held hers as someone else nished cleaning her up. “Open those beautiful eyes for me,
Dany. Let me see you.”

“Let me die,” she whimpered, turning away as the tears ran down her face, unable to bear
even

thinking about facing him. I killed his baby, this is my own fault, I should have been hanging
on . .
. paying attention to Drogon instead of him and Rhaegal. We should never have gone. Jon’s little
baby was inside me, growing and safe until I fell . . .“I can’t . . . it hurts too much.”

“Where does it hurt?” he asked, his voice turning from so to panicked. “I thought you said
she hadn’t broken anything!” He’d turned his head to yell. Her pounding head thanked him for
it.

“She hasn’t, Your Grace,” another voice

said.

“Where does it hurt, Love?” Jon asked again. She moved her hand from his and then rested
over her heart, pressing the heel of her hand into her skin, unable to form the words to
adequately tell him how much, how deeply it hurt inside. She felt him sigh against her skin,
then he was liing her, holding her.

“Give us a minute,” Jon said, his voice sounding loud in his chest. He was providing her with
privacy so she could do whatever she needed to do to cope with everything, and she loved
him for it, loved him for being with her when she so desperately needed him. She was safe.
He was
warm. She burst into new tears, and she heard the other people in the room leave, the door
creaking closed. She cried and clung to him, choking on her tears and gasping for air, but he
held onto her through it all, whispering gentle words to her, kissing her face and hair in his
eorts to comfort her. He threaded his ngers through her loose, tangled curls, cradling her
throbbing head against him securely, rocking her slightly as he let her cry.

She fell asleep against him aer she’d completely exhausted herself, trusting him to hold her. She
felt nothing and had no dreams to disturb her, though she didn’t feel rested at all when she
woke again, much later. She opened her eyes slowly, taking in the familiar sight of the bedroom
she shared with Jon. They were in Winterfell. He’d brought her all the way home. She broke
out
in a cold sweat, then leaned over the bed far enough so she wouldn’t foul it, and vomited.

Missandei was rushing at her, too fast, so fast, Jon grabbing her and holding her around
the waist so she didn’t fall out of the bed. A wave of voices, then she was sick again, the
world swirling around her, Jon her only anchor in the insanity.

Cold. Something cold on her head, wrapping around as her head pounded as though a
blacksmith was hammering away at a billet in there. She could feel Jon’s arms around her,
pulling her up and holding her against his chest. As the cold slowly sank into her, past the
hammering, she breathed in relief, the smithy seemingly muted and further away for the
moment. She let out a quiet groan as she relaxed against Jon, going limp against him, unable
to tell him in any other way that it was bringing her relief.

“It’s working,” Jon said quietly. “We need more.”

She cautiously reached up to touch her head, what was being held against it. She felt a rough
cloth wrapped around chunks of . . . ice. He was holding ice to her head, holding it against
bruised and tender scalp as gently as he could. She’d hit her head at some point, but
couldn’t remember when. She closed her eyes again, Jon’s scent surrounding her, soothing
her raw nerves and overwhelmed brain. He’d bathed since . . . the smoke and ash and the
scent of dragonre absent from his clothes and skin.

“Your Grace,” a voice said, looming from her other side. “Do you remember what
happened? Where you were? Do you know where you are now?”

She pressed her face against Jon for a moment before she spoke, her words halting but
coherent. “We were . . . we le Winterfell for the Wall, we were heading for Castle Black . . .
Viserion intercepted us, Drogon chased him all the way to . . . I think we were all the way up
to the Fist . . . a rocky cli . . . when they fought. I lost my grip and fell. I could see . . .
everything,” she sighed out. “They killed the Night King. Rhaegal tore him apart. They killed
Viserion again. Burned him to nothing. Ashes, ashes everywhere . . . Jon . . .”

“I’m here,” he whispered, holding her.

Missandei was giving her water to wash out her mouth, wiping her face gently. Dany reached
for her, and her friend came willingly, wrapping her so and comforting arms around her as
Dany began to cry all over again. “I know,” she whispered, pressing her cool cheek against
Dany’s hot forehead. “Only the people in this room know you lost two children up there, not
just the one.”

Jon’s baby . . . “Did you bring . . . ” she began, looking to Jon, but he was shaking his head sadly
at her. “Drogon burned . . .” he began, but couldn’t speak further, burying his face in her hair. His
breath was hot and heavy, ragged in her ears. He’s crying. Oh gods, Jon’s crying, too. She felt
like she was dying inside, their double loss more than she could bear. She pulled away from
them both, but the maester was there, holding the bowl under her face in time for her to be
sick again, Jon holding her hair back, Missandei bringing more water for her to drink. She was
down to yellow bile, her stomach empty, but her head . . . Her head pounded, and she
reached for the cold cloth again, pressing it against her head herself.

The maester came back into focus. He held a cup of milk in his hands, a silent oering, holding
no judgement, just an acceptable form of aid should she choose to take it. Sweetsleep. He
didn’t need to do anything more than show it to her, she was gladly leaning forward, grateful
chance to sleep, grateful to escape the hell she’d woken to. She shuddered at the sweetness
of it, nishing the drink quickly, leaning back into Jon’s arms. She felt it begin to work almost
immediately, calming her breath, her heart slowing, her eyes closing as her mind became as
calm as the lake she’d come to love in Vaes Dothrak . . . wave aer wave of grass in an endless
sea, the warm Summer breeze making the stalks dance and whisper . . .

Jon breathed a silent sigh of relief as Daenerys dropped o in his arms, cradling her gently,
selshly, before easing her down onto her so pillows and tucking her in, kissing her soly on
the forehead. “I love you,” he whispered.

Jon looked to Missandei, then the maester, nally to Sansa crying in the corner and trying to
hide it behind her hand over her mouth, but he could see the tears rolling down his sister’s
cheeks, and it started him o all over again.

Sansa came to him, sitting next to him on the bed, pulling him into her arms and hugging him
tightly, letting him cry with her. “She woke up, Jon. She nally woke up, she was coherent, she
remembered . . . Focus on that,” she whispered to him, hugging him and rocking him. “Now
she’ll sleep for the night, probably all tomorrow, too. It’ll give her head time to heal. She’ll
wake again tomorrow.”

“Will she remember today?” Jon asked, looking toward Maester

Wolkan.

He nodded. “She will. It won’t take away any memories, all it does is calm the body and mind
to sleep,” he said quietly. “I don’t know if that’s a comfort or not, Your Grace.”

Jon leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. He rubbed
his eyes and sucked in a breath. “It’s the middle of the night,” he said quietly, looking at them
all once again, calmer this time. “I’m going to bed and I suggest everyone else do the same. I’ll
wake you if needed.”

Sansa looked at him, studying his face. “Promise? You’ll wake me if you need
me?”
He nodded, looking her squarely in the face. “I
promise.”

She leaned forward and hugged him again before reluctantly standing. “All right. I’m taking
you at your word, Jon.”

One by one, he watched them el out of the bedroom, leaving him with only a few lit candles
and the re in the replace. He didn’t bother undressing, simply pulling the extra blanket up
from the foot of the bed to cover him as he leaned over to kiss Daenerys one more time
before curling himself around her to sleep. He prayed he’d be able to sleep at all.

He stared at her hair in the dim light, watching it shi from gold to silver and back again. He’d
had to burn their baby’s remains. Drogon had done it for him, though Jon had been too
shaken to even ask it of him, and he would be forever indebted to the dragon for knowing
what had been needed. He’d even searched for ashes to bring home to the crypt, but there
was nothing le, try as hard as he had.

Drogon had known his mother was hurt, he’d lowered his whole body so Jon could carry her,
limp and bleeding, up to him and onto his back. He immediately ruled out going to Castle
Black, they were still without a maester and would be of no help to Dany, so he bypassed it
from a great height, taking her directly home. Together, they managed to get her there, Jon
hoping that Rhaegal going ahead of them would send up an alarm as he’d landed riderless.

Indeed it had, it seemed half the population was waiting when Drogon circled and glided
down to the ground, Jon hanging onto Dany securely until Tormund and the Hound broke
through the crowd, helping him get Daenerys down and inside, Tormund cradling Daenerys as
though she were merely a sleeping child, wrapped in Jon’s cloak like a blanket.

It was then, when Maester Wolkan was examining her that the bruise and lump on her head
had been found. She’d missed the rocks in her fall, but had managed to graze the side of her
head at some point on the way down.

Jon had demanded to know when she would regain consciousness, but no one could
him. He’d stayed with her for hours, people coming and going who he felt really didn’t
belong

there, nally saying something, he couldn’t recall what, to Sansa. She’d promptly kicked them all
out, save the maester and Missandei, herself and Jon. They waited together for hours. Food was
brought, but Jon couldn’t bear the smell of it, telling the others to take it to the front room,
away from her.

As the day turned to night, the maester began to gently warn Jon of the dangers of being
unconscious for so long, that it might be that her last moments of being awake had already
passed. Jon had yelled then, nally angry and grief stricken to the point he was throwing things,
sending the maester out of their quarters entirely before Sansa and Arya could intervene. He’d
immediately gone back to the place he’d occupied for hours, sitting on his side of their bed,
near enough to touch her but letting her rest undisturbed.

Tyrion had come, managing to get Jon to leave Dany to rest while they talked. He pressed Jon
for details of what had happened. He asked if the Wall had been broken down entirely, or if it
had
simply been breached over hundreds of miles away at Eastwatch. Jon had told him that the
Wall at Castle Black seemed intact, and had seen men on the Wall and in the yard below as
they’d
own over, moments before the unexpected attack.

“We wouldn’t have gone if we’d known,” he said, staring at the re. “We weren’t even scouting.
We were sparring and we were going to see the men at Castle Black to give them the lastest
plans, then the attack came. We didn’t even see it coming until Viserion was on top of us.
Drogon was so . . . he was rage in action. There was no way Daenerys could have called him o
the ght. I’m certain she tried. I’ve never seen anything move like that, so fast and ANGRY.” Jon
looked at Tyrion. “We weren’t ready, we weren’t watching our backs, and we’d gone straight into
the trap. Daenerys fell, Rhaegal and Drogon were ripping Viserion and the Night King to
shreds, between the two of them they somehow ripped him in half and then there was a
bright light,
snow like I’ve never seen before, and then . . . nothing. Empty air, Dany down the cli.” Jon
stopped there, unable to tell the rest, not even once more.

“Perhaps we ought to let Maester Wolkan come back in,” Tyrion suggested gently. “Get Sansa
and Missandei, anyone whose voice she’d recognize favorably. Talk in there, to her, amongst
yourselves, something. Give her something to come back to.”

Hours later, she’d moved, letting out a high pitched, keening cry before she came to, and thats
when she’d started getting sick. Maester Wolkan had prepared them for that, with her head
hurt as it was. Jon was so relieved she’d woken up at all that he could barely stay out of the
way as they cleaned her up; he wanted her, needed her, had to touch her and hold her.

She’d turned to him, too, turned and cried and he’d cried with her, so fucking relieved and sad
and grateful all mixed together. He held her until she’d fallen asleep, completely exhausted, and
he’d held her for a long time aer, feeling her slow and even breaths, her heart steadily
beating, her reassuring warmth. The rest of the world had stopped, as far as he was
concerned.

Now, Jon stared at her face as she slept, all her worries beyond her care for at least a few more
hours. She would rest, she would heal. They could try again. His heart hurt that they’d lost the
baby, but . . . they could try again. He wondered if it had happened right away, or if it had been
aer they were already on the road to Winterfell. He’d wait until she was rested and recovered,
of course, and he’d wait as long as she asked him to, but they would try again. He wanted
nothing more, would strive for nothing less. He would carry his hope deep within, never telling
a
soul. He swore to himself right then and there that there would always be hope.

Late the next aernoon, the darkness already falling on the outside world, Dany began to stir.
He opened their bedroom door, permitting the maester and Missandei to enter, Sansa and
Arya following.

Jon watched as his wife slowly came awake, opening her eyes and looking around the room at
them all before nding Jon. She gave him a small, sad smile, likely mirroring the one that was on
his own face at that moment. Maester Wolkan looked into her eyes, had her track his ngers and
answer a few questions. He looked to Jon. “Her Grace is recovering well. Another day or two in
a dark room with no strong scents or light should have her ready to stand up without aid. Her
head needs rest.”

“We have a war to win,” Dany said quietly. “I have an army to lead.” She moved to get up, but
the maester gently guided her back down to her pillows. “I have to lead them . . .”

“Scouts from Eastwatch sent ravens,” Jon answered her. “The Dothraki have already le to go to
their aid. Your kos wasted no time in gathering weapons and supplies; they le the day we
arrived back home. The Unsullied are already marching . . .”
“How many days have I lost?” she asked, her voice small and a little
bewildered.

“Three, Your Grace,” the maester answered.

“Three days,” she whispered. She made to sit up again, Jon stepping through everyone to
reach her, helping her up, holding her steady. “I’m hungry,” she said.

Jon’s body sagged in on itself for a moment in sheer relief. “We’ll get you . . .” he began, but Arya
was already out the door and running on her light feet down the corridor. He looked at Dany
and smiled a little. “Your sister’s got it covered.”

He was aware that Sansa was ushering everyone out, and he breathed a sigh of relief. They
would rarely get a private moment like this again, even when the war was done, he
suspected.

She looked at him again, her eyes so incredibly sad he didn’t know what to do. “Jon,”
she whispered nally. “It happened.”

He nodded, his own words stuck in his thickened throat. “I know,” he said. He took her hand
and kissed it before he pressed it to his cheek.

“Even aer . . . everything.”

He just kept nodding, not knowing what to say or do. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t bear to
see her look so sad, wouldn’t be able to keep himself in check. He knew he needed to give her
this time to be vulnerable and grieve, she wouldn’t allow it of herself later, now was not the
time for him to fall apart, too. He knew he needed to be her strength, something he would do
everything in his power to give.
She began to say something, but stopped herself before the words could form. She took a
deep breath. “Jon,” she said. “Look at me?” There was an edge to her voice, one he didn’t like
at all.

His eyes snapped up to hers, seeing the anxiousness and sadness melt away as he did. She
needed him to see her. He pulled the hand he was holding against his face to his lips, kissing
her palm soly. He waited, giving her time to gather her thoughts, and it gave him time to just
breathe with her, together. He’d damned near lost her.

“I need us to try again,” she nished, tears in her eyes, but Jon could see something more . . .
hope. Even through all the shit they’d just been through, the struggles, the tears, the ghts, and
agony . . . even death . . . she’d found hope somewhere in there in all that fucked up mess,
and suddenly Jon realized he wouldn’t change a damned thing if it meant she was going to
look at him like that, if she was going to let hope back into her heart and make room for it to
grow.

He nodded, smiling through his burning eyes. “As soon as you’re feeling better, Love. I swear it,
if it’s in my power to give, consider it done.”

She leaned against him then, letting out a deep breath. “I’m scared,” she
admitted.

“I won’t tell anyone; that’s our secret,” he answered, kissing her gently on the top of her
head. “I’m so fucking proud of you right now.”
Tangent Chapter 11

Jon moved their maps and carved sigil pieces from the Great Hall to their outer chamber,
crowding what was le of the war council in Winterfell into their room, leaving the door
open
 just a crack so she could hear everything clearly without it violating her rest orders. The Night
King’s remaining White Walkers were evading their armies somehow, not decimated by the
Night King’s demise as they’d hoped and expected, and they were making as many dead men
rise as the living made fall, replacing their numbers as they moved. She listened intently,
gathering what information she could, her mind working on solutions even though her head
hurt so badly she could barely li herself o the pillow.

The meeting nally convened, and by then she knew what Jon was going to do, likely before he
knew it himself. He came to her aer everyone had le, nding her standing in the middle of the
room, shaking her head at him slowly, tears of outrage and helplessness falling. “You won’t,” she
said simply, her voice trembling with her emotions. She hated it, hated how weak she sounded.
“You cannot . . . No.”

Jon had gritted his jaw, the muscles jumping and exing beneath his beard. She could see his
sts clench and unclench at his sides; he had already been revving up for an argument with her,
and he was prepared to stand his ground. She weighed her options carefully, none of them
favorable. Her head was screaming in agony, but she wasn’t about to back down. They were in
a silent stando.

“I am going,” he said rmly, his voice level and she could tell he was forcing it to be calm. “You
are staying.”

“I’ll go if I please,” she answered, snapping at him before closing her eyes against the pain in
her head. She could hear him walking toward her, so she opened them again to see him. Jon,
gods, don’t leave me, you can’t leave me here to worry every moment that I’m never going to
see you again, you can’t, you can’t . . .
His grey eyes were both resigned and adamant. He looked at her carefully. “You’re
hurting

yourself,” he said, his nger coming up to touch her lightly under her le eye. “ The pupil in this
one’s gone bigger again. Sit for me, Love.” He took her rmly by the elbow and guided her back
to the bed.

“I’m not some weak little girl for you to wrap in silk and leave behind, Jon,” she warned
him, pushing him back, refusing to sit down, irritated that he was treating her so
patronizingly.

“I never said you were, Daenerys. There’s no way I possibly could even think that,” he
answered, his voice maddeningly patient and calm. “You’re the exact opposite of a weak little
girl. You’re a warrior, a conquerer, our Queen, you’re the Dothraki Azor Ahai for fuck’s sake, and
you’ve been injured in battle. It would be the same if you’d been a knight and broke your sword
arm. You’re not t to ght at the moment and the world needs you to live. Sit this one out for
another week. There’s plenty of battles le to ght, and you’ll be ready to ght the ones to
come.”

“I need you to live, have you thought of that?” she demanded. Jon could almost hear a
dragon’s hiss in her voice, laden with seething anger and hurt. “I can’t send you out there
without me to watch your back.”

“You’re going to have to trust in me,” he said simply. “Trust Rhaegal. Trust Drogon, Love. They’ll
be with me.” Gods, she’s furious. It would do no good to tell her how beautiful she is right now,
her delicate little dragon nostrils ared, violet re coming from her eyes . . . oh shit. He caught
her by the elbows before her knees buckled, simply liing her and placing her on the bed. “This.
This is precisely why you’re staying. Drogon can’t ght and balance you on his back at the same
time, Love. I don’t expect you to like it, not even a bit, but this is how it must be.”

In the end, she’d kissed him goodbye in their front room, both hating and understanding why
she was being le behind. She watched him call the dragons from their bedroom window,
watched as he spoke to them both before mounting Rhaegal and ying away. “Come back to me,
Jon,” she whispered, reaching up to touch the glass. “I love you.”

She spent the next amount of immeasurable time sleeping, listlessly wandering from room
to
room as she waited for her head to heal. Sansa came and went, sometimes doing nothing
than bringing her sewing into Dany’s room and sitting next to the window for the best light,
more
of them comfortable enough with each other that they needn’t say anything at
all.

Aer Jon had been gone for nearly four days with no direct word, Tyrion came to her. “We have
someone to see you,” he announced gently. “And before you see him, I want to personally vouch
for him. Please don’t kill him, he has valuable news for you and he wishes to bend the knee in
person.”

Daenerys eyed her Hand, her head beginning to throb already, but it was a dull, annoying
pain, easily ignored. Finally, she nodded wearily, sitting down in the front room near the re.
She waved her hand for him to let in the guest.

She looked to the re briey, then looked up to see Jaime Lannister in front of her. Oh for fuck’s
sake. Did it have to be him? The pressure in her head began to grow in warning, but it receded
as he simply looked at her and then dropped to one knee. “My Queen,” he said in greeting,
bowing

his head.

“Ser Jaime Lannister of the Usurper’s Kingsguard, brother to the false queen, the Kingslayer,”
she acknowledged coldly. “Quite handy with a spear, or attempted to be, if I recognize you
correctly. Lucky for me, you’re worse with a spear than a sword.”

“I’ve come to ght for the living and to pledge myself to House Targaryen and the rightful Queen
of the Seven Kingdoms,” he said. “Drogon bested me in one on one combat, and I shall not
challenge his mother again. Forgive me, My Queen.”

She looked at him for a long moment, pondering the man in front of her, the things she’d
heard about him, countering and balancing it with what Sansa’s Lady Knight had said in his
defense, apparently his character much changed since losing his sword hand. Mortality, it
seemed, had
nally caught up with Jaime Lannister, and for that she could see something of herself in him.
The past is the past. He may have been my father, but he was a madman. Killing Aerys was
murder, but a mercy for thousands more. A desperate act by a desperate teen boy tired and
frightened of watching men scream as they burned to death. Now was not the time to go into
all that. Sorting it later will be better for all involved. “Arise, Lord Lannister of Casterly Rock.
We have need of you, as complicated as your presence here may be. My lord Hand says you
bring
He nodded, standing again. “Yes, Your Grace. My sister has plainly said she will send no
armies, and she sent Euron Greyjoy to recall the Golden Company to Westeros. She means to
use them to ghtyou for the Throne.”

Daenerys looked toward Tyrion. “How many men are in the Golden Company?” she
asked.

Tyrion looked from her to Jaime. “Current numbers?” he

asked.

“Some ten thousand if Cersei is to be believed,” he answered. “Take that as you will.”

Tyrion weighed it in his mind for a long moment, eyes closed as he concentrated. “We may
need

to plan for that many, possibly more, if she had any idea you were about to betray her,” he said
nally. “If we add Euron’s eet to it . . .”

“What should I do from here, then?” she asked listlessly, her head beginning to pound again,
engulng her ears with its painful percussion. She leaned over, propping her elbow on her chair
so she could cradle her head in her hand. “Wait for them, just as I’m doing now?”

Tyrion gave her a look before he ushered Jaime to the door, telling him to wait in the Hand’s
chambers for him. He turned from the closed door and spoke to her gently. “We’ll plan as we
can
from here, Your Grace,” he began. “For the immediate future, I suggest you take some rest.”

“I’ve been resting,” she snapped irritably, unable to keep from closing her eyes against the
pain. “What I need is more information on the Golden Company, my Lord Hand. What I need is
for this headache to nally go away. I want Jon to come back with my dragons. I want . . . I want
out of this room you’re holding me in.”

“Your husband, our King, le you in my care with very specic instructions. I plan to follow those
instructions out of my deep respect for him and my respect and admiration for you,” Tyrion
answered, his tone insistent. “Take some rest,” he urged.
She stood, wavering on her feet, her pride failing her as she nodded slowly, hating every
moment. “I’d like Missandei to keep me company,” she said, turning and opening her bedroom
door. “Come to me with any news from the front. I need to know Jon is safe.”

Jon scanned the horizon from Rhaegal’s back, trying to solve the riddle of the dead. More and
more of them kept coming, their numbers uctuating depending on how many arrows the
Dothraki could retrieve, how much sport they found in killing small groups in skirmishes in
rogue groups, but the result was always the same. They would march into the valley, reach a
certain point, then just . . . stop. They were waiting, amassing at the edge of The Gi near Long
Lake.
Some fought back when provoked, but there was something not right at all about it and it
bothered Jon. He wished for Daenerys. She would be able to think it through, between her
and Tyrion, and come up with a solution. Describing the situation in detail to her by raven
was an impossible task. He’d have to go himself, and he’d need to think of a way to do it
without it looking like he was abandoning them all. He was well aware that strategy wasn’t his
strong suit, he was more able with a sword in his hands, and now, a dragon beneath him.

He focused on Rhaegal, wordlessly asking him to take him down. He’d ask Dany’s kos and the
lords arriving on the battleeld to spread the word that he was going to retrieve their Khaleesi
and Queen. He needed her help, and he looked skyward for a moment, sending up a hope
that she was well enough to endure the road ahead. He just hoped he could get to Winterfell
before nightfall.

Daenerys was still awake when the door to the outer room opened, curled up in front of the re
on the fur rug, reading a book, her headaches much easier to tolerate in order to read. “Is that
you, Ghost?” she called. “I le the door open for you.”

Heavy, familiar footsteps came to the door, and Jon was there, pushing it open, tossing his
heavy fur cloak and heavy gloves onto a nearby chair, letting them fall onto the oor when they
didn’t stay. “I am denitely not Ghost,” he stated, giving her a half smile.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and dropped the book. “Jon!” she gasped, reaching for him
and standing when he held his hands out to help her up. She cupped his face in her hands and
kissed him, melting into his arms as he held her and kissed her back for a moment before
pulling away to look at her. He smelled of campres and the wind.
He held her face in his hands, studying her, looking into her eyes, checking them. “Are
you feeling better?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It comes and goes,” she said. “It’s not nearly as bad as it was,
though.”

Jon nodded slightly. “I need you, Love. We need you. Something’s happening out there and
I can’t gure it out. I need your eyes and your mind.”

“We ought to call Tyrion as well, then” she suggested. “Two minds are better . . .” He nodded,
then le to send someone to call Tyrion before coming back to her, helping her put on her
heavy robe, tying it closed before kissing her soly. “We . . . His brother, Jaime, is here,” she said,
turning to look at him, uncertain how he would react.

His eyes darkened and she reached out to make him release his sts, holding his hands tightly in
hers. “He’s bent the knee, Jon,” she whispered, trying to talk him down. “We’ve yet to talk
about the past, we’re focusing on what’s happening right now. We’ll come to that, I’m sure,
and it involves all of us. Let’s ghtto live, then we’ll decide.” She felt him tense for a moment
longer, then he let it go.

“You’re being far more forgiving than I thought you would be and it’s so far beyond what he
deserves,” Jon growled.

“I know,” she agreed quietly. “It’s in the best interest of everyone if we postpone . . . things like
that in order to have as many men as possible to ght.”

“Keep him away from me,” Jon replied, more steel in his voice than she’d ever heard. “I’m
not nearly as kind hearted or forgiving as you are.”

“He did apologize for his attempt to lance me,” she pointed out lamely, realizing how ridiculous
sounded as soon as she said it. “I don’t even know why I’m defending him, Jon, but maybe . .
.

maybe if he hadn’t killed my father, we wouldn’t be standing here together. Who knows? I
don’t. He tells me that Cersei is sending no men to aid us, but sent Euron Greyjoy to Essos to
bring the Golden Company to ght for her. Some ten thousand men, Jon, and they’ll be waiting
for us aer we win this war.”

“Are you asking my opinion?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers. “Because if you are, I have no
answer. All I know is that if I see Jaime Lannister walking around Winterfell, the odds are he
will go the way of Ramsay Bolton.”

“Jon,” she began, shaking her head in warning, but Tyrion entered the front room and sat,
waiting for them. “Maybe you should wait here for a moment. I don’t want a murder
happening so close to where I sleep. I had hoped that I’d le those days behind me.”

Dany stepped into the front room, looking around. “Where is he?” she
asked.

“Jaime? He’s . . . I thought it best if he stayed in other lodgings while in the area, so arranged
for a room . . .” he gestured delicately.

“That was wise,” she answered, keeping her voice low. “Jon’s here and needs our help. Keep
Jaime away from him, Jon’s sworn he’ll kill him. I need him alive, a lord who has sworn fealty
to me is of great use at Casterly Rock. Jon,” she called. “It’s safe. No one needs killing
tonight.”

Jon stepped out. “Lord Tyrion,” he greeted. “Thank you for keeping your promise. We have
trouble, but I can’t quite gure out what it is . . .”

Over an hour later, still pouring over the map and trying to gure out what was happening, Dany
shied her attention away from them and to the window, trying to give her mind a break as she
stretched her body. She leaned against the stone, watching stars shining bright in the frozen sky.
There had to be something they were overlooking. She ddled with the heavy wool curtains,
stroking the tightly woven cloth between her ngers. “Do we know where their source of power
comes from?” she asked, turning back to the two men. “I know little to nothing about it,
but they didn’t just spring from the ground, did they?”
“Bran says that the Children of the Forest made the Night King,” Jon answered. “In order to ght
the Andals who were arriving from Essos to the lands, taking what wasn’t theirs, chasing away
the Children from their homes . . . The Night King was made, but now he’s gone and we’re le

with his progeny. He made them with his power, but I don’t know if it’s a location or some sort
magic within . . . We can’t ask Bran to do it for us, he may be exposing us all. He says the
of 
Night King can see him, so it’s a risk that he might have passed it on to the other White
Walkers.”

“Let’s say for argument’s sake that it is a location . . .” Tyrion guessed. “Where do you think
they would go? Would it be where they came from?”

Jon shook his head. “We have no knowledge that far North. We call it the Lands of Always
Winter for a reason, it’s beyond the Frost Fangs, which is the furthest that’s been explored
by

men. It’s too cold and too far.”

“What if that’s where they are, Jon? Even if it’s something they had within themselves,
they’re hiding somewhere, and it’s as good a place as any to start looking.” she asked. She
gave a thoughtful pause. “Do you think Drogon could do it?”

“You’d not be going alone,” Jon answered, tensing up. If he were a wolf, his hackles would be
raised and he’d be baring his teeth, snarling.

“Of course not,” she placated, relieved when his shoulders lost their tension. “You and
Rhaegal would be with us.”

“What would we even be looking for?” Jon asked, visibly frustrated. “Even if we could get
there, even if we . . . we don’t know what we’re trying to nd.”

“They don’t need to take shelter, do they? They’re not going to back to homes with
families,”

Dany pointed out.

“Dear gods, I hope not,” Tyrion answered, sitting back in his
chair.

Daenerys went into the bedroom and brought back the decanter of wine with a glass.
“Feed your mind, Lord Tyrion,” she jested lightly.

“My gratitudes, my Queen,” he replied, pouring and drinking deeply. He held the glass
against his forehead for a long moment, studying the map. “We’re certain it’s this way?” he
asked, his
nger tracing a path.

“It has to be, the other way is the land of the Thenns,” Jon answered. “The Wildlings hate
them. They eat human esh.”

Daenerys visibly shuddered and swallowed heavily. “I’m glad we’re not going that way, then.”

Tyrion circled his nger around the area of the map. “This is an area roughly the size of the
North,” he said slowly. “If it’s not something big and obvious, we’re likely not going to nd it. It
would be too dangerous and too cold to sweep at a lower level. You’ll need to be up high to
avoid any lances.”

“If we’re too high, we won’t see one until it ’s too late,” Daenerys
countered.

“This river, here,” Tyrion pointed out, squinting to read the lettering. “It says Ice Rivers . . . that
area has been charted. We can rule out . . .” He began to cover the area with a few of the
wooden pieces. “That much area. Likely it wouldn’t be between there and the Frostfangs,
would it?”

Jon shook his head. “It would be further North, I would

think.”

“Well, we can rule out hundreds of square miles just from that alone,” Tyrion
sounding a little more encouraged. He covered the area from the Frostfangs to the Ice
Rivers.

“The area has been cut in half. Manageable?” he asked, turning to look at
Daenerys.

She walked over to look at the map, tracing from the Wall to where the pieces ended. “If we
stop along Skirling Pass or the Milkwater for a rest, I’m certain we could manage it,” she
answered, pointing to the two places on the map with valleys between the mountains. She
looked up from the map to Jon. “Want to go put some more locations on a map?”

He met her eyes and gave her a smile, a cautious but pleased smile. “Are you up for it?”
he asked, challenging her.

Daenerys looked from him back to Tyrion. “Maester Wolkan will be here rst thing in the
morning to check you one last time,” Tyrion promised her, sliding out of his chair and taking
his glass of wine with him. “Sleep tonight, both of you,” he called out before he shut the
door, half warning, half teasing.

Jon looked to Dany, who shook her head slightly. “I’m still spotting a little,” she whispered, a sad
smile on her face. “I’m supposed to wait until it stops before we try again . . . Sleep is all I’m
able to do tonight, I’m sorry.”

He sighed and pulled her into his chest, holding her gently. “No, I’m sorry, Love,” he
whispered.

“I’m nding some comfort in that we’ll try again,” she whispered, blinking back her tears. “I’m
glad to sleep next to you tonight, at any rate.”

He kissed her gently on her shining hair then pulled away. “I need to send a raven before I come
to bed,” he said gently. “Let them know I’ve been delayed.” He led her into their room and
pulled back the blankets. “You get settled and I’ll be right back.” Jon looked around the room.
“Has Ghost come back?”

She shook her head, climbing into bed and settling herself under the blankets. “He hasn’t.
You
sent him o to nd his pack, didn t you? I thought maybe he d be back by now, but . . .

Jon frowned a little, but shrugged as he made his way to the door. “He’s been gone for a
bit before. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

“You’re not worried?” she asked. “I’ve been worried, just occupied with all the other
things, too.” She felt guilty. She missed her giant white protector.

Jon shook his head. “I’m not. He’ll come back when he’s ready,” he assured her. “I’ll be right
back.”

Dany settled back, burying herself under the heavy blankets, glad to have Jon home even if
it was just for one night. She dried o,trying to plan how she was going to convince
Maester Wolkan that she was t enough to ght, waking slightly as Jon slid into the bed
behind her.

“You asleep?” he asked, his voice a gentle murmur.

“Almost,” she sighed, turning and snuggling in, laying her head on his chest, letting one arm
fall around his waist. “I missed you,” she whispered, kissing the fading scar under her cheek.

“I missed you too, Love,” he answered, his arm coming up around her. “How’s your head?” He
reached with his other hand, gentle ngers probing her scalp tenderly.

She hummed against him, enjoying his warmth. “It doesn’t hurt nearly as much. The bruise is
fading, nothing is broken. The maester says I just bumped it a bit too hard and I should avoid
doing that again if at all possible. I think he was trying to jest with me, but he seemed
pleased.”

“I’m glad too,” Jon answered soly, kissing her on the forehead before letting out a sigh. “I
know I’ve already said, but I missed you. You’re my home.”
Tangent Chapter 12

Daenerys woke Jon with a so kiss and a sigh, reveling in the warmth of their bed and the
comfort of his presence. She hummed happily against his mouth, smiling as his hands came up
to cup her neck, pulling her in. When she pulled away to breathe, he held her close, nuzzling
her cheek with his nose, kissing her before he slowly rolled over and sat up, stretching and
groaning.

“Thank the gods for wives and warm beds,” he groaned out. “Sleeping on the ground by
myself isn’t fun anymore.”

She hued a laugh and crawled out from under the blankets, standing and scanning the room for
her robe. “You’re the one who le without me,” she reminded him, tossing the words over her
shoulder casually, taunting him.

She heard the rumble in his chest before she heard his feet coming at her, so she had no time
to escape before he grabbed her and tackled her back to the bed, making her laugh as she hit
the pillows. “You know why I had to go without you.”

She leaned up on her elbows, pressing her nose to his. “I know why. I still hated it,” she
answered, enunciating every word slowly. She smiled at him, pushing her lips to his. “Now
coming with me.

“If the maester says so,” he answered, moving back so he wasn’t pinning her to the bed any
longer. “Then we’ll go.” Daenerys scoed a little, but Jon gave her a look of seriousness that took
a bit of her steam. “If he says no, then you’re still waiting here when I leave again,” he warned.

When the knock to the door nally came, Jon kissed her soly on the forehead. “Come to the
Great Hall aer,” he invited before he looked at her seriously once more and pointed his nger at
her in warning, shaking it at her before excusing himself from the room to seek out Tyrion,
leaving her with that little furl between her eyebrows that signaled her displeasure. As he
walked down the passageways of Winterfell, he permitted himself a rare moment to think on
what had happened at The Fist just the week before. It clawed at his heart, hurting more and
more as the days passed, the more he had tamped it down and tried to forget about it, focusing
on Dany. She hadn’t even begun to show yet, but the size of that little frozen bubble of ice and
blood had been slightly larger than a hen’s egg, so it wouldn’t have been very much longer

before she would have. He had avoided looking at it for more than the moment Dany
pointed it out to him, clearly wanting him to bring it back with them to Winterfell, but
had
then Drogon was there, taking care of everything before Jon could even really formulate
a plan.

Drogon. Jon hadn’t considered things from his point of view. He’d lost two siblings that day, had
aided both on their way to wherever the dead went for their eternal rest. Jon wondered if the
dragons mourned the baby the way Daenerys and he were, or if the concept was lost on them.
He shook his head. He’d never know. Drogon may have thought that his re would make it hatch,
for all he understood. The enormous dragon had felt the loss of Dany keenly, however, as Jon
had mounted Rhaegal and called for Drogon to accompany them to Last Hearth. He’d only
followed reluctantly, turning back to call for Daenerys several times before joining them.

Jon found Tyrion in the Great Hall, staring at a plate of food and a goblet of wine in his hand.
He seemed grim, deep in thought. When Jon approached, he seemed to clear his head a little
before greeting him. “Any new revelations to add?” he asked.

Jon pulled up a seat across from him and rested his forearms on the table. He looked down at
his folded hands, thinking. He shook his head. “It’s a fool’s plan,” he said nally. “But it’s the best
we’ve got.”
Tyrion nodded in agreement. “It is,” he acknowledged. “I’ll assume you’ll be armed enough
for the both of you if it comes to a ght on the ground?”

“She’ll stay on Drogon, no matter what happens,” Jon promised.

Tyrion took a long drink of his wine. “And if he’s brought down?”

“Then we’re fucked anyway, so she may as well,” he answered, shrugging. “I don’t like it,
but that’s how it would be.”

“It’s said you’re the best swordsman in Westeros since Jaime has lost his hand,” Tyrion said

slowly. “If anyone could save our Queen, it would be you.”

Jon shook his head. “A sword won’t save anyone from the cold, Lord Tyrion. If pressed, I can
win a ght, but there’s nothing I can do against the cold. She’s better o on Drogon, and I intend
on pressing that point to her.”

“She’ll listen to you over anything I could tell her,” Tyrion admitted.

“Aye, I know,” Jon agreed. “And that truly terries me. You’re her Hand, she should be listening
to you.”

Tyrion poured Jon an identical goblet of wine, and the two men drank together in silence for
a few minutes. “When will the two of you leave?” Tyrion nally asked.

“Maester Wolkan is with her now,” Jon answered. “I’m hoping she’ll come out here aer and
eat with me, but she may not if things don’t go her way in there.”
“Her head wasn’t her only injury, was it?” Tyrion asked shrewdly. “Has she been suering more

than she’s let on?”

Jon shrugged, draining his cup. If Daenerys wanted Tyrion to know about the miscarriage, she
would have told him herself. Jon certainly wasn’t going to say anything; for him, the grief was
still too near. Perhaps that was the same reason why Dany hadn’t told her Hand, but maybe
there were other compelling reasons Jon couldn’t think of at that moment. “Her bruises are
fading,” he answered nally. “She’ll recover.”

“You’re a horrible liar, Jon Snow,” Tyrion pointed out.

“I pride myself on that trait, actually,” Jon replied, refusing to give ground. “However, I am not
lying about this. She’s healing well.”

Jon could see Tyrion trying to hide his impatience and irritation. “If our Queen is hurt, our
King ought to . . .”

“I am her husband rst, the King second,” Jon countered atly. “I will not break faith with my
wife, Lord Tyrion. Her bruises and bumps are fading. The Queen will have a complete
recovery, as the maester has promised us all, I swear it.”

Tyrion let it go, not wanting to push Jon any further, especially when Jon was speaking the
truth, which Tyrion expected he was by the end of the statement. Still, something more had
happened
up there Beyond the Wall, he was certain of it. “We need her to come back alive, Your Grace,”
he said nally. “The world is lost without her.”

Jon nodded, ddling with his empty cup. “As am I, Lord Tyrion. As am I.” He didn’t bother to turn
around as he heard footsteps behind him, didn’t need to see her face to know her presence as
she came behind him, running her hand over his shoulder. He only turned slightly to see her as
he picked up her hand and kissed the palm out of pleasure at her nearness. “Love,” he
greeted, guiding her to sit next to him. “Your Lord Hand and I agree – if we go, your safety is
the most
“I will worry about myself,” she answered lightly, smiling at Jon as he gestured for food to be
brought to them. “Maester Wolkan has been kind enough to care for me, and I can now
rejoin the ghtin all things.”

Jon willed himself to not react to the double meaning of her words, instead kissing her hand
again and quietly stating, “Drogon will be pleased to have his mother back where she
belongs.”

“And you?” she asked, touching his cheek aectionately.

He sighed. “I can’t say that I am,” he answered honestly. “I ght better when I know you’re here,
safely away from harm.”

Tyrion nodded slowly. “I have to say, I agree with His Grace,” he added cautiously. “It’s easier to
ensure the safety of the world’s future with you here instead of out there.”

Jon could see her pursing her lips in irritation, and he mentally braced himself for the lashing
she was going to give them both. “Lucky for me, my fate doesn’t rest in your hands then,” she
nally responded, though Jon was positive that there had been some stinging retort that would
have bitten them both much more deeply had she not restrained herself. She smiled gratefully
at the attendant who placed her breakfast in front of her. “Thank you.” Fresh herbs on eggs
and the dark, nearly black sausage that seemed to be particular to Winterfell and its holdings.
It was the

rst foods that had smelled appetizing in weeks. She lowered her eyes so neither Jon nor Tyrion
could see the tears burning in her eyes. They would try again. The maester had examined her
thoroughly, then suggested she and Jon wait another week and aer he’d examined her again
beforehand to ensure she was ripe for conception. He’d spoken at length about her family
and history of her ancestry, bringing up points that she hadn’t known, showing her his
history book as it was written by grand maesters concerning her family tree.

She cleared her throat before she began eating, savoring her food and listening to the silence
between Jon and Tyrion. There would be time to speak to Jon about the details aer they
returned. She traced her ngers along the grain of the wood on the table as she considered with

the maester had told her before turning her thoughts to the enormous task ahead of them. It
was going to be colder than when she’d gone to rescue Jon past Eastwatch, colder even than
had been on The Fist.

Another attendant walked by, politely setting down a cup of a white, steaming liquid in front
of her. Jon nodded approvingly at her puzzled look and he thanked the woman before she
turned to leave.

She stared at it, then lied the stoneware cup to smell it, sweet and herbal and . . .
something. The cup warmed her hands pleasantly. “What is this?” she asked.

“Herbs we grow here in Winterfell, steeped in hot water and mixed with cream and butter,” Jon
answered. “We drink it when the weather gets to its coldest.” He watched as she closed her
eyes and smelled it again, waing the steam under her nose. He turned away, unable to look at
her when she looked like that, the illicit thoughts racing through his mind not helping to keep
his mind straight; he couldn’t act upon any of them, not yet. “Try it,” he urged. “The adults
don’t get
it as much as the children and older babies do. Winter is harder on them, and this helps to
ward o the cold.”

Daenerys sipped at the hot drink. She could taste a golden grassiness to it, the butter and
herbs, plus a warmth and creaminess to it she hadn’t tasted since she was small and had
been given milk . . . she tamped down on those memories. Now was not the time for that.
Maybe later, when it was just her and Jon and she could tell him of it, tell it all to him and try
to put it behind her. She glanced up at the two men, Tyrion paying attention to his own meal,
but Jon watching her carefully out of the corner of his eyes. “It’s . . . good,” she whispered.

“Good,” he answered, turning to smile at her before he stood. “Bring it with you and nish it
while we get ready.” He held out his hand to her and she gladly accepted it. Jon turned to
Tyrion. “Send a raven to our armies at Last Hearth. Let them know their Queen has come up
with a plan and we’re going to see it through.”

By the time they were ying over The Wall between Shadow Tower and Castle Black, Daenerys
was glad she’d listened to him, the hot milk and fatty butter settling in her belly comfortably
warming her from the inside out. Once over The Wall, she urged Drogon above the low
cloud

cover, glad to have the weak sunlight on her back. Something was better than nothing. She
could feel the weight of the leather bag lashed to her le leg as she was sure Jon felt the
heavier one on his back, lled with provisions should they need them.

Rhaegal moved in front of them to lead, Jon leading them toward where they’d been just a
week ago, though Dany didn’t realize it until The Fist was looming below them, the clouds
breaking away to reveal the land below. Rhaegal veered slightly to the West and Drogon
followed, diving down to y between majestic ridges of snow covered mountains. The rocks
breaking through the snow looked blue and purple from the distance and Dany was surprised
at the tug in her heart at the savage beauty of it – all the space in the world with no people in
it, no cities or towns, just silent snow and trees whispering in the icy cold wind with a language
all their own.

Jon and Rhaegal nally brought them down to a wide and at space where the ice laden river
forked, where they had the cover of trees to block the wind and their presence from above.
Jon waited for Drogon to let Dany down, then he helped her untie their supplies from her leg
before undoing his own. With his heavy gloves, he beat a break into the ice under a tree and
stored everything there, burying it with rocks and snow. He pulled her into a tight embrace,
leaning against the trunk of a sturdy pine. “We’ll meet here if we get separated,” he said, then
looked to Drogon. “Here. Remember this place, my friend. Bring your mother here if you need
to.”

He turned back to look at Daenerys. “We’ll let them rest for a bit. Tell me what Maester
Wolkan said this morning while we wait. There’s no one around to overhear us.”

She shrugged, relaxing into his arms and resting her head on his shoulder. “He says I’ll be
spotting for another day or so at the most, from what he can tell. Then . . . he wants us to
wait for another week and me to see him again before we start trying. He wants to make
sure we’re trying when my body is ripest.”

Jon nodded. “We might be far from Winterfell at that point. What then?” he
asked.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Chance it?”

He smiled at her. “That’s what we did before and it worked out,” he pointed out. “I don’t
mind

those odds myself, but I wonder if it would be better to at least know beforehand . . . I could
see how it could get discouraging for you if it doesn’t happen right away. I don’t want your
beautiful hope to disappear.”

“He also said that if you really are Rhaegar’s son, my chances of conceiving and carrying your
baby to term are much higher,” she added. “He had some history book with him, and he was
turning pages and naming o the Targaryens who married outside the family, and most of them
had a higher miscarriage and infertility rate than those who stayed within the bloodline. Many
otf hem, not all, but enough for more than one Grand Maester in the last 300 years to make note
of it.”

Jon nodded. “I don’t pretend to know enough about all that to have an opinion,” he began. “But
if the maester seemed to know and had documents to prove his words, then we’ll have to
accept that. It’s encouraging, at any rate.”

“It is,” she sighed. She closed her eyes and tried to hear his heartbeat, but there were too many
layers of clothes between them. “It’s nice to not hear anyone else but us,” she whispered. “It’s
so quiet here.”

Jon held onto her and slid down the tree to sit on the snow, pulling Dany into his lap and
holding her. “Rest, then,” he suggested. “Don’t go to sleep, but rest and let the quiet into you.
Feel it around you.”

Jon knew they were on a potentially deadly path. He was preparing for danger and battle in
the only way he could; focusing on the moment. Dany’s warm weight in his lap, holding her
snugly against him, the way her hair tickled his face as the wind blew through the trees, the
fur on the edge of her collar and hood wavering, holding her warmth securely within. It was
too cold for her scent to reach his nose, but he buried his face in her hair anyway and kissed
her, sending up a wordless plea to the heavens that they would both live to see the light of
tomorrow. “I love you,” he husked out.

Dany brought her heavily gloved hand up to touch his face, stroking his cheek. “I love you,”
she said back soly. “I’m not afraid, Jon. Either we’ll survive or we won’t, but at least we have
lived in the time we’ve had.”

He nodded in agreement, nothing to add to her words, knowing exactly how she felt. At least
we’ve had each other for a little while, I certainly wasn’t brought back from the dead for
nothing like I’d rst thought. “We should get moving.” He pulled out a map from inside his coat,
the cold

making the leather crackle as he slowly unrolled it. “We’re here,” he said, pointing. “We’re at
the last fork here at the top of the Milkwater River. Aer we clear these ridges . . . we start our
search.”

“Should we sweep North to South, or try to go East to West?” she asked, tracking her nger on
the map to show him what she meant.

“Likely East to West, heading North,” he answered, holding her hand, using her nger to show
him what he intended. “That way, when we get too cold, it’s not that far to backtrack to here

and rest.”

“What about when it gets dark?” she asked, looking around at their surroundings before
looking down at the map again.

“We can stay here for a night,” he answered. “We’re sheltered enough in the trees, and if
we have Rhaegal and Drogon to keep us warm, we’ll be ne.”

Daenerys looked up from Jon’s map to Drogon, then to Jon. “Right. We’re ready.”

Her layers of clothes made it nearly impossible for her to stand up on her own as hard as she
tried. With a laugh and a hu, she turned as far as she could to face Jon only to see his smirk
before his hand was on her low back, pushing her up so she could stand, fake grunting with
the eort to tease her.

“Just wait until I’m huge and fat and cranky with you,” she teased back. “I’ll be all belly and
mad
He laughed out loud, pleased she was playing. “I’ll just help you up and let you yell at me,” he
answered. “I’ll even kiss you and tell you you’re beautiful while you’re mad, because you are.”
He tried to keep his enthusiasm as low key as he possibly could, but he was thrilled she was
actually talking about it like she was accepting there was hope. It took a lot of eort to keep the
stupid grin o his face that made him feel like a fool. He tried to stand up, but her weight had
pushed
him too far down into the snow, and like her, he had too many layers on to get adequate
leverage. “Shit,” he exclaimed. “I’m stuck. Dany . . . ” He reached out his hand, realizing he was
at her mercy.

It was her turn to laugh, bringing one gloved nger up to her chin. “Hmmmm,” she teased.
“You’d better remember this moment, Jon-Aegon.” She emphasized his name. “When I’m stuck
in a chair, huge and pregnant, my feet swelling and I’m mad and you start to laugh at me, I
want you to remember this moment.”

He hued out a laugh. “Dear gods,” he laughed. “I won’t laugh and I won’t forget, I swear it. Now
help me up.”

She reached her hand out, giggling, and braced herself in the snow and ice, using that leverage
to help Jon to his feet before turning and climbing back onto Drogon. “Come, King in the
North. We have a lot of snow and ice to cover today.”

Tangent Chapter 13
Drogon and Rhaegal took turns leading once they cleared the last ridges of the known
mountains, the dragons sweeping through the skies as their riders scanned the world below, an
endless at plain of white snow. Far to their right, to the North, she could see another ridge of
mountains through the falling snow. Rhaegal was suddenly blocking her view, Jon gesturing for
her to follow him in that direction. Steeling herself, she shied her weight slightly, asking
Drogon
to follow them, but Drogon balked under her, stopping his forward movement to hover in the air.
To her relief, Rhaegal immediately turned back for them, then began descending toward the
ground, Drogon willingly following him.

Once on the ground, Jon was rushing for her, helping her down. “What’s wrong?” he asked,
the wind blasting them both with snow much harder than it had in the air.

“I don’t know,” she nearly had to yell back for him to hear her. “Drogon won’t go there.” She
pointed in the direction of the mountain ridge.

Jon looked toward the unknown mountain, then back to her, his face grim. “Will he follow if
we hike it?” he yelled back.

This time Daenerys balked. “If Drogon won’t go there willingly, I can’t force him,” she
answered, shaking her head if her words were lost over the howling wind.

Jon brought his head closer to hers, unable to hear her over the wind, and she repeated her
words, yelling them out. He nodded and kissed her soundly before he pulled back, looking
grim
and determined. “Then it’s up to Rhaegal and I . . . go back to our meeting place. Wait
until morning, no later. I’ll see you aer,” he yelled back.

She shook her head vehemently, turning toward Drogon. “We have to go with them,” she
pleaded to her dragon, walking from Jon to Drogon, stroking him gently under his eye down his
snout. “Please, Drogon. We must.” Jon is going to try and be a stupid hero without us and he’s
going to end up dead if we don’t, she pleaded with him in her mind. He throated out a call to
her though she felt the vibrations against her hand more than she could hear the sound. She
turned
Once more in the snow and ice laden sky, Rhaegal was bravely leading them directly toward
the mountain ridge, which turned out to be not a ridge at all, but a single mountain, sharp
and pointed and looking as if it were piercing the sky like a spear. Daenerys felt her heart
pound in her chest. This must be the right place.

As they neared it, she could see it was split open like a log by an axe. By her estimation, the
dragons wouldn’t be able to t inside, nor did Daenerys even want to attempt it. Her whole
being was screaming to get away from the place, the air colder than anything she’d felt yet, a
knife against her cheeks. Her eyelashes had grown a light and feathery layer of frost, her lips
numb with the bitter wind. She didn’t dare let go of Drogon to tighten her hood, so she had
to duck her head down as he began to descend from the sky toward the ice and snow
below.

There was no wind once they were on the ground. The air was as still as ice and easily twice as
cold. She could hear every breath she took, could see the heat waves rising from Drogon’s skin.
The dragons were strangely silent, too. Her ears felt pressure from the silence, and though she
tried to relieve the pressure in them, it did no good. She looked to Jon, who already had his
feet on the ground, was signaling for her to stay where she was. She wanted to shake her
head and argue with him, but she had promised Jon and Tyrion both that she would stay with
Drogon no matter what happened.

She watched as Jon unbuckled his scabbard, drawing Longclaw before tossing the belt aside.
The Valyrian steel seemed to glow in the frigid air, a life and breath all its own. She eased
herself down from Drogon with his help, and approached Jon, casually picking up his scabbard
and looping it around herself. “It’s not much, but it may help,” she whispered, her breath a
great white cloud. She pulled a dragonglass dagger from where it had been strapped to her
hip, courtesy of Arya. She handed it to him, handle rst.

He shook his head, pushing it back toward her. “You might need that yet,” he whispered
back. “Keep it.”

Ice crackled behind her. Jon took the dagger and turned it in her gloved hand, closing her ngers
around the handle. “Stay here,” he whispered. “Get back on Drogon. Stay with the dragons,
Love.” He moved past her, heading toward the sounds of the motion, Longclaw out and ready.
Dany saw him before Jon did, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Ghost,” she whispered. Jon
lowered his sword, hung out a silent exclamation of relief. “What are you doing here?”
she demanded when the direwolf ambled up to her, tail low and still. She buried her face
into his neck, barely able to get her arms around him, his warmth against her face
heavenly as she hugged him tightly. “Where have you been?”

Jon looked up from their reunion, suddenly on high alert. The hairs were standing up on the
back of her neck, too. They were being watched. Was it a trap? “They’re here,” he whispered.
“Come, Ghost. We’re nishing this.”

Dany grabbed his arm. “Drogon and I will follow,” she promised, heading back toward the waiting
dragon.

Jon shook his head. “He’s too big, he won’t be able to y in there. Take Rhaegal. Drogon,” he said
quietly. “You stop anything that isn’t us from leaving this mountain, lad. We need you here,
waiting. Burn them all.” Drogon lowered his head, his eyes xed on the craggy entrance, focused,
showing Jon he was ready.

Rhaegal lowered his shoulder and wing, nearly gleeful when Dany mounted him, his mouth
opening in a silent scream. She looked back to Drogon. “Stay here unless it’s not safe for
you, then get out, my love. I need you to live.”

“Wait here unless I yell,” Jon ordered her, giving her no time to respond before Ghost
bounded ahead and Jon charged aer him, sword out, ready for the ght.

Dany waited, holding her breath, eyeing the great split in the mountain, the ice and snow
within seeming to glow, much like Longclaw. Magic dwelt within that mountain, bright and
terrible, and she waited. Rhaegal shied nervously under her, Drogon as still as a statue,
concentrating, waiting.

“NOW!” Jon yelled, his voice echoing strangely against the ice, but Daenerys and Rhaegal
already in the air, and she was positive Rhaegal responded to Jon’s mind before he could call for
them. Drogon didn’t hesitate, he braced his feet in the ice, his mighty claws digging in as he

roared out a mighty blast of re. Rhaegal was already twisting in the air, ying into that great
crevice in the rock, his agility permitting him to nd room. Inside, she didn’t have a chance to
truly see what was happening before Rhaegal was lighting the ice on re, burning it. The ice was
so cold and his re so hot that for an instant, the ames caught the ice on re and it burned.

An icy spear glanced by them, the miss so narrow that she could see the wooden sha on the
lance as it went by her face, Rhaegal turning furious as one of the White Walkers tried to
bring them down. He mounted skyward, the mountain narrowing, sending up a roar of
warning to Drogon before he dove again, weaving and circling, Daenerys just barely able to
hold on with Rhaegal’s unpredictable movement.

She saw Jon for barely a blink of her eyes, ghting o a small group of wights, Ghost leaping in
the air and bringing down the White Walker, the wights lost to the wind as dust. Rhaegal
turned abruptly, letting loose re and fury, using his great tail to knock yet more down for
Ghost to take down as he landed.

Jon was yelling at her while he slashed and fought, trying to point at something, Rhaegal
turning them before she could register it, seeing the circle of ice crystals that stood taller than
Tormund, the attened table in the center, and she knew. Daenerys and Rhaegal were of one
mind – destroy.

Drogon roared out in fury, crashing through the narrow opening, clawing his way in as he
shattered the ice and rock, ripping apart White Walkers just as he’d done with the Sons of
the Harpy so long ago in Deznak’s Pit, and Daenerys had never been lled with so much
pride. “Drogon!” she yelled, just as she’d done then, and he was in the air, ying toward the
center, seizing another Walker before it could throw the lance it carried. She scanned the
remaining creatures, none of them le were armed. They hadn’t known, had no time to
prepare for the dragons to storm their hiding place.

Rhaegal half ran, half ewto Drogon’s side, and between the two of them, the ice pillars began
to melt and crumble under their shared ames, Jon and Ghost holding the remaining Walkers
and wights back, keeping them away from her as the dragons completed their task until Jon
was there, in the middle of the res, and she tossed him her obsidian blade. She was shocked
when he caught it before he turned and thrust it directly into the platform in the middle. For
breath, nothing happened, but then it shattered, burst with blue re and light, knocking Jon

back, the blade in his hand broken and leaving him bloody where it had pierced his
gloves.

The sound that followed was something Daenerys never wanted to hear again, it set her teeth
on edge and her spine shuddered as the sound of tens of thousands of screams, rocks grinding,
and a deep throbbing echo surrounded them, shaking her to her very foundation. She knew
she would have nightmares of that sound for years to come.

A blinding blue light erupted, Ghost running back the way they’d come in, escaping to safety,
Jon climbing up on Drogon, screaming at her and Rhaegal to get out, the mountain around
them beginning to crumble in ruin. She spread herself at on Rhaegal as he took to the air,
Drogon right behind him, ying straight up in the air with a speed that made her dizzy and sick.
She felt the rock strike her leg, and she bit her tongue in surprise before she screamed,
reaching down to grab her thigh, knowing in a white hot instant it was broken, but then they
were in the sky, the blue light nally fading behind them as Rhaegal sped away, ying her directly
back to the Milkwater.

She gritted her teeth through the pain as they sped away, seeing the ridges of the mountains
far in the distance, encouraged. She would reach the Milkwater, she would live to see the end
of Winter, she would live to breathe and see green grass and Winterfell and Sansa and Arya
and Bran again, Ghost. Ghost.

Daenerys nearly turned Rhaegal around, but she knew he would resist her if she tried. He
knew where to go and what to do next, the dragons had heard the plan and would keep on
course. To her relief, the mountains grew ever larger, and soon they were ying over them,
Rhaegal speeding like an arrow from a Dothraki bow. He circled around, calling out to
Drogon, and she held her breath, letting it go and letting the tears come when she heard
Drogon’s answering cry to his brother before Rhaegal gently set them down on the ground.
Jon, oh gods, Jon . . . I need you.

Half falling, half dragging herself, she made it to the ground beneath Rhaegal’s wing, well
aware that she was leaving a trail of blood behind her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at
her leg, but then Jon was there, Drogon landing with a great loud pounding on the ground,
roaring out his dominance and trimph. She didn’t see Jon get down, but he was suddenly
there, in front of her face, pulling her, yanking on her pants and when she screamed out in
quickly, taking a long strip of leather from the pack and felt her leg, patting gently until he
was

certain he was above her wound, and he tied it as tightly as he could, making her scream
again.

“I’m sorry, Love, I’m sorry,” he was whispering, “I’m so sorry. We can’t stop and rest here for
long, we have to get you somewhere safe, get your leg looked at.”

“Take me home,” she panted out, crying. “I need to go home. I’ll make it to Winterfell,
I promise.”

“I need to see it if we’re going to try to go that far,” he warned her.

She let out a wavering cry, not wanting his hands anywhere near it. “Just cut up the pants,”
she

whimpered, panting from the pain. “I don’t care if it gets cold, it’ll probably help more
than anything.”

He guided her to lay on her side, then stood up. He searched around on the ground
frantically,
nally walking toward a tree and snapping a branch o,stripping the bark o and handing it to
her. “Bite,” he commanded.

She nodded, doing as he told her, bracing herself. He took out one of the long, broken shards of
her obsidian dagger from his pocket and grabbed the bottom of her pants, cutting into them
and slicing upward in one long stroke.

“Seven Hells,” he cursed. “You’ve broken right through the skin, baby. Fuck. I can’t x this here.”

She pulled the stick from her mouth. “Just . . . just tie it o,” she begged. “Maester Wolkan . . . he
can . . .”

Jon pushed the stick back at her and she bit down, nodding at him desperately, squeezing
eyes shut as he tied a second strap above her broken leg, her scream mued by the snow
and the branch in her mouth, dizzy with the pain, screaming again as Jon tied a clean cloth
around

the wound, stabilizing it as best he

could.

“They’re all gonna be so pissed o at me.” His laugh held a quiver to it that made her scared. He
shook his head, keeping his eyes on her leg, on his task. “I keep letting you get the brunt of
this shit, they’re not going to let me near you aer this. Thank the old gods and the new it
wasn’t your head again.”

“They’d better let you near me if they want an heir . . .” she gritted out around the
wood.

“We’ll make our own army of hellions,” he promised, laughing that strange, frightening laugh
again. “How many do you want?” He leaned over and unbuckled the scabbard from around
her and tossed it on the snow near where he’d dropped Longclaw.

She shook her head. “I’d settle for one baby, safe and healthy in my arms before thinking
about any more,” she answered, crying out as he twisted the strap tighter and fastened it
securely.

“I think that’ll work for now,” he said gently, leaning over and kissing her soundly on the
forehead before settling her head into his lap so she could rest. He sat back against a tree, still
breathless from the battle, letting the events sink into his head for a moment while he caught
his breath. He rolled his head against the trunk, turning to look at her. “We did it, Love. We
fucking did it.” He pulled out a water skin from under his coats, his body heat keeping the
water from

freezing. He aimed carefully, pouring mouthful aer mouthful of water for her until she
waved him o,draining the rest himself aer she’d had her l.

The pain in her leg ebbed slightly, just enough to make it bearable when Jon supported her with
her arm around his shoulders as he helped her to reach Drogon, helped her get seated before
he went back and grabbed their packs. “ Take her home,” he told Drogon gently. “Let us go
ahead of you so we can have everything ready. Careful now, Mama’s hurt. Again.”

Jon stepped back, Drogon spreading his great wings in the clearing before running and
leaping into the sky. He turned to Rhaegal. “You’re tired, I know,” he said gently, shaking his
buckling his scabbard back around his hips, sheathing Longclaw once more. “I wish we could
stay and give you a proper rest, but we need to go home now, my friend.” He stroked Rhaegal’s
face

when the dragon throated out a purring call. “You made me proud today. You carried her in and
out of there. Thank you.”

Once in the air, Jon and Rhaegal followed the Milkwater all the way to The Gorge, bypassing
The Wall altogether, trying to nd a faster route, the mountains and trees below covered in
snow, barely discernible from the air until they were nearly to Winterfell. It felt like hours
before they were landing in front of the gates, Jon yelling to the men out front to get the
maester and someone strong enough to carry the Queen.

He paced nervously on the ground, watching the skies as it began to grow dark, watching and
waiting, yanking o his heavy coat and throwing it on the ground. The cold in Winterfell had
nothing on the cold where they’d been. He looked to Rhaegal, who had burned himself a
warm spot in the snow covered grass, resting from his exertion. Soon enough, Rhaegal raised
his head and bellowed out, Drogon answering him, and then Jon was le standing as people
rushed past him to aid Daenerys. He stood back, collecting up his things and making his way
behind the maester and Sam with two large guards as they carried her back to the room she
shared with Jon.

Jon brought her water rst, getting her to drink a fair amount before Maester Wolkan had
nished washing his hands. He brought her milk of the poppy, administering it and waiting for
her to drop o into a fevered dream before cutting her pants o entirely, cutting through the
makeshi bandages, leaving the tourniquets that Jon had managed to eectively use to keep her
from bleeding out. Jon stripped down to his trousers and shirt, leaving the rest of the furs and
coats and overpants in a pile near the door, the heat in the room nearly too much to withstand.
He kicked o his boots, leaving them in front of the re to thaw out.

“Hold her arms,” the maester instructed him, and Jon eased himself down on the bed, cradling
Dany’s head in his lap, bracing himself and holding her arms crossed over her chest, Sam
staying behind to hold down her good leg.

Jon watched as the maester felt around the protruding bone, bracing himself, knowing what
was to happen. Daenerys twitched under him, and he knew even the opiate wouldn’t be
enough. It wasn’t nearly as bad as broken bones were treated at The Wall, more of a yank and
and writhed in pain before it was
done.

Jon eased her back down on the bed, sweating and fevered from the milk of the poppy, and
Sam slowly let go of her. Maester Wolkan began to sew up the gaping hole in her esh le by her
leg bone, and he looked up at Jon. “You kept it clean,” he commented. “It will take several
weeks for

the bone to mend, but it should mend soundly.”

“There was nothing up there but snow and ice,” Jon answered. “There was nothing to get
it dirty.”

The room was quiet for a moment, Jon and Sam quietly watching the maester work. “She’s
going to hate me, but I’ve got to leave. Rhaegal has had time to rest,” Jon said. “I don’t know if
the rest of the wights have fallen.”

“We haven’t heard anything,” Sam said slowly. “There’s been no ravens from Last Hearth
or beyond.”

Jon nodded. “Then I really have to get going.” He stood and kissed Daenerys soly on the
forehead, trying to ignore the sickly sweet smell of the opiates in her sweat. “I’ll come
back, Love,” he whispered to her. “I swear it.”

He wearily dragged on his boots again, then stood and turned to look at Sam and pointed at
him. “Stay with her. Keep her safe, keep her comfortable. She’s going to wake up angry beyond
your imagination, Sam. You’ve got to keep her on that bed and o that leg.” Sam began to
protest, but Jon shook his head at him, his nger still pointing at him. “I don’t care what
happens, you keep her in that bed.” Jon turned to the maester, who had nished sewing Dany’s
leg closed. “I need Lord Tyrion to meet me in my private council chamber.”

The maester got up from his chair and le the room and quickly returned. “He has been sent
for,” he said. He looked to Sam. “Looks like you’ve got rst watch, lad. If she moves or speaks, I
want to know about it.”
Sam nodded, getting comfortable in his chair. “Go, Jon. I’ll do whatever I can for her, which is not

much right now . . . ”

“Don’t worry about it, Sam. I just don’t want her waking up alone. I’ll be back as soon as I can,
and we’ll get Missandei to come sit with her in a few hours,” Jon promised, walking out the
door.

Tyrion arrived bere he did, rubbing his face at the late hour when Jon nally walked into the
room. “Which is better, ying out to Last Hearth or waiting for a raven that may not come?” he
asked in greeting.

“It depends. If I’m the one ying, I’d wait for a raven,” Tyrion answered. “If you’re ying . . . I’d
stay behind and wait for the raven then, too. How is our Queen?”

Jon chuckled at his jape. “She’s resting now, thanks to milk of the poppy,” he answered. “It was
a clean break, no contamination, Maester Wolkan says it will heal just ne.”

“I can’t tell if she’s had good luck in this war or not,” Tyrion said, eyeing
Jon.

“I can’t, either,” Jon admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s been rotten luck as far as
getting hurt, but enormously good luck in how easily she’s recovered.”

“It’s the Targaryen in her,” Tyrion observed. “You’re a hard lot to kill, even harder than Starks.”

“I suppose,” Jon answered absently, shiing his weight. He knew if he sat down, he would
fall asleep before he could even lean back properly in the chair.

“Sit before you fall, Your Grace,” Tyrion told him, gesturing to a chair near the re.
“Can’t. I’ll fall asleep,” Jon protested. “I can’t sleep
yet.”

“Sit. If you do fall asleep, I’ll wake you when the raven arrives,” Tyrion promised.

Jon sat, pulling o his boots and leaned back, staring at the re before him. He remembered his
head hitting the back of the chair, but nothing aerward until Tyrion was shaking him awake.
Jon
sat up, sucking in a deep breath to wake himself up.

“Congratulations, King in the North,” he said, and it took Jon a moment to gure out if he was
 jesting or not. “You and our Queen went o on the stupidest, bravest, most insane quest,
outdoing nearly every other hero’s mission before you, and you’ve succeeded. The Long
Night will end,” Tyrion said, slapping Jon on the back.

“They’re gone?” Jon asked, feeling sluggish and

stupid.

Tyrion held out the raven scroll. “Read for yourself.”

Jon snatched it from his hands, unrolling it, reading the words written by Ser Jorah Mormont,
a brief description of the events near Long Lake plainly stating the whole army had gone up
like smoke, leaving bones and tattered remains of clothes. Some men were staying behind to
burn the le over pieces to ensure the dead remained dead.

Tyrion sighed heavily. “Now for the bad news, Jon. Your brother . . . Bran. He committed suicide
down in the crypts. As far as we can tell, he did it two days ago, before you had come back
to Winterfell. He went missing, but everyone assumed he was with someone else. Arya found
him down there.”

Jon felt a stabbing pain in his chest, and he quickly sat back down. “Why?” he asked, tearing
his eyes from Tyrion so his wife’s Hand wouldn’t see him cry.
Tyrion wordlessly handed him another paper, this time a folded parchment. “He le this for
you. I’ve read it, so have the maester and your sisters.”

Jon handed it back, burying his face in his hands. “Tell me,” he requested. “I can’t read it
right now.”

“He explains it better, but it says that he knew they could see him, they could see what you
were doing and planning and the only way you would win the war was for him to die,” Tyrion
said gently. “So he said he willingly was giving his life for the North, and for all those he loved
that lived in it. He says . . . ” Tyrion paused. “He says he loved you since he was old enough to
remember you, and that he’d gone to look back, seeing that you’d loved him from the day of
his birth and that your love is what gave him the strength to do as duty called him to do.”

Jon stood abruptly. “I need to see my sisters,” he rasped out, his throat thick with his
tears.

“It’s only been an hour, Jon,” Tyrion protested. He pointed toward the door to his old room.
“Your bed is still in there. Use it. You’re of no use to them, your wife, or even yourself right now.
Forgive me for not waiting to tell you. I am very sorry. His loss will be felt for the rest of our
lives.”

Jon nodded at that, looking down at his hands. “I should bathe,” he observed, turning his
bloody hands over to look from the backs to the palms. “I can’t tell what’s mine or hers
anymore.”

“I’ll have someone bring the hot water, Your Grace,” Tyrion answered, his tone heavy and sad.
“I’m truly sorry.”
Tangent Chapter 14

Jon woke alone in his old bed aer just an hour or two, restless and unable to relax. He looked
out the narrow window, the night deep and cold outside, the stars bright and shining with not a
single cloud in the sky. He could just make out the shapes of Rhaegal and Drogon in the
godswood, the moonlight a brilliant white on the snowdris. The most frightening war was over.
Daenerys had solved the riddle, and he’d helped her execute it to the best of his abilities. For
the
rst time in his life, he was glad he was good at what he did.

“Good lads,” he whispered aectionately to the dragons before he laughed to himself. “Never
thought I’d ever see one, let alone love a dragon . . . ” his words trailed o,thinking of Daenerys,
the dragon he loved most of all. He didn’t want to disturb her if she was sleeping of course, but
he hoped he’d be able to get a more peaceful rest if she were in closer proximity, so he
decided to at least check on her.

He wandered down the passageways of Winterfell in his thick wool socks, soundlessly making
his way toward his goal. He had to go the long way around to avoid going outside, but he nally
made it to her door. Opening it silently, he found Sam asleep on the low couch in the front
room, Missandei sleeping on a fur covered cot near Dany’s side of the bed. He looked to
Daenerys, her brows furrowed as she slept, her face glistening with fever sweat from the milk
of the poppy.
Relieved that she seemed to be resting, he grabbed a spare pillow from his side of the bed and
a heavy blanket from its storage place beneath the bed, making himself a spot on the fur rug
in front of the re.

He stood over the dying embers for a long moment, thinking of Bran, thinking of all that had
happened since he le Winterfell as a young boy. He’d been no more than a boy. He weighed it
all out in his mind, the good and the bad, trying to see if it had been worth it. It had. He knew
it had, but it was tough to nd it while grieving for his brother.
He put another log on the re, the hardwood smoldering for a minute before catching. He sat on
the fur, realizing he was in Ghost’s spot. It would possibly be a week before Ghost made it
home

from where they’d been. May the hunt be fruitful and your travels swi and safe, my friend.

He sighed and lay his head on the pillow, looking down past his feet, able to see Daenerys as
she slept, her leg strapped and propped with wooden slats to keep it still while it healed.
Comforted that he’d at least be able to watch over her for a bit, he realized he was more tired
than he’d originally thought. He closed his eyes, receiving peace from the sounds of her
breathing, alive.

He woke from sound sleep, daylight streaming in from the window, brighter than it had been in
months, Daenerys struggling to keep her sounds of pain quiet, her whimpers reaching his ears
as Missandei changed her bandages and laid fresh ice on her wound. He sat up to watch.

“Jon,” she groaned out, peripherally seeing his movement, reaching for him, wanting
him.

“I’m here,” he answered, going directly to her, taking her hand, kneeling on the woven wool
rug on the oor so she could see him comfortably. “I’m here. There was a raven from Ser Jorah
last night, from Last Hearth. We did it, Love. The dead are . . . back to being dead. You were
right. It worked.”

She nodded, then groaned from the pain. “This is going to set us back a bit,” she
whispered, looking down at her leg.

He couldn’t help but laugh a little, shaking his head at her. “I don’t think you heard me.
Your idea, our actions, we saved the world from The Long Night.”

“I heard you,” she answered peevishly. “I understood you. It’s over now, and the further I can
put it behind me, the happier I will be. That sound, Jon. It’s going to haunt me.”

He nodded, then looked up at the wreath over their bed for the lack of anywhere else to look.
The Seven. His Lady Aunt had made it for Bran while he’d been unconscious aer Jaime Lannister
had pushed him from the tower. He wondered briey how it had gotten to Dany s room. That
was one of the worst things I’ve ever heard.”

“I kept hearing it over and over again while the maester set my leg . . .” she shuddered.
“I’m never going to forget it, no matter how hard I try.”

“Will it help that our little adventure will be written into history books and we’ll be heroes
for generations to come?” he asked, looking at her nally and grinning sheepishly.

“No,” she answered, her voice taking on a new edge. “Songs and tales of yourself won’t
warm your bed at night, l your stomach, or bring you anything more than hollow joy at
best.”

“I suppose not,” he agreed. He reached out to touch her face. “ Too much experience with
that already, my Unburnt Breaker of Chains?”

A sound between a groan and a snort escaped her before she took his hand and held it tightly,
shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m tired. I hurt. I’m sure the positive parts of this whole thing will
sink in later.”

Missandei came back in, removing the ice from Dany’s leg and changing the wet bandage. Dany
hissed and her good leg twitched, her knee coming up o the bed, her head tossing back onto
the pillow. “I’ve never had anything hurt this badly,” she sobbed quietly. “I need something for it,

please.”

Missandei le the room again, returning with the maester, who looked over her leg. “Your
Grace,” he began. “I have limited choices for you right now. Sweetsleep has been known to
build up in a body over time, the risk of giving too much higher every time it’s taken. Milk of the
poppy
. . .”

“Milk of the poppy does me little to no good,” Daenerys answered him shortly. “I felt
everything and got no rest, though it prevented my mind from moving my body. I don’t want
sweetsleep
“I have willowbark,” he oered. “We can brew it into a strong tea for you or you can chew it. It
will dull the pain, but will cause no harm. You can have it as oen as needed.”

“I’ll have the tea, please,” she agreed. “I’d like that very much.”

He nodded at Missandei, who le again. “Next,” he said, looking from her leg to her face. “We
wait for the swelling to go down so we can remove the splint and plaster your leg. You’ll be
able to get up and around with some help aer that’s done.” He touched her lightly several
inches above the wound. “We’d start here and likely go all the way down to the foot to keep it
stable while the bone heals.”

“The sooner, the better. We’ll have armies returning within the fortnight and I need to be up for

them to see that I live,” she answered, her voice growing testy and impatient.

“This is a dangerous time, the next few weeks, we need that bone to start growing back
together as soon as possible, which requires you to keep o it and keep it still,” the maester
reinforced.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, her tone turning even more cross and
irritated.

“How about we all get some more rest,” Jon said quietly. He smiled in relief as
Missandei stepped back into the room, an earthenware cup in her hands.

“It’s bitter,” she warned Dany. “We sweetened it a little with some peppermint leaves, but it’s
still horribly bitter.”

“I don’t care,” Dany answered her, struggling to sit up a little. Jon pushed her upward, shoving
pillows beneath her back to hold her in place. She took the cup and sipped at it. “This tastes . . .
familiar? I’ve had this before, but I don’t know when.” She shrugged and drank deeply of the
warm tea, lling her belly with it’s weak warmth and bitterness, the medicine spreading through
her sore limbs and injured leg, dulling the agitating throb, making it bearable as the maester
laid fresh bandages down to absorb the water le on her skin.

Jon helped her lay back, and she closed her eyes, relaxing into the relief. The pain was till
there, but enough of the edge had been dulled to make it tolerable. Jon watched as her good
leg stopped twitching in response to the pain, saw Daenerys nally able to relax. He realized
that

even the milk of the poppy hadn’t been able to do that for her and likely she’d been in pain
for most of the night. She reached her hand out, laying it at, palm down, on his side of the
bed,
hoping he’d get the message. When she felt that side dip down slightly, Jon taking her hand,
she smiled and held his hand as tightly as she could.

“Sleep next to me,” she whispered. “I’m not much feeling like a hero at the
moment.”

“Tired, stroppy, and feel like shit, you mean,” he chuckled back.

She sighed heavily. “Yes, all of that.”

He reached over and placed his palm on her belly, just below her navel. Her lambswool shi was
nearly silky to the touch and so very warm. “Give yourself some time to recover,” he urged
tenderly. “You’ve been ghting battle aer battle, and we still have another war to win. Let’s
wait until aer we win that one before we start trying. I’d go insane with worry if we didn’t
know and . . .”

Daenerys sighed and turned away from him as far as her head would allow, unable to turn the
rest of her to follow suit. Respectfully, Jon removed his hand and turned to lay at on his back,
closed his eyes and waited for her to speak before he hurt her again. He wasn’t even sure
which part of what he’d said was so upsetting, but he could see the tears in her eyes before
she’d turned away, so the best he knew to do was to give her room.

Aer he’d counted o nearly 200 breaths, he turned to look at her again. She was staring at the
heavy canopy over their bed, tears running into her ears and down onto her pillow. He
reached out and touched her face, brushing the wetness away.
“Hey,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to wait, either. I really don’t.”

She nodded, blinking ercely to clear away her tears. “I know,” she said soly. “I even
understand why it would be better to wait, I just . . . My heart wants what it wants.”

Jon sighed and rolled to face her, nuzzling his face into her shoulder and kissing her gently. “I
love you,” he whispered. “I want to give you what your heart wants, my Love. Let’s see what
the next week brings as far as you getting better, then we’ll go from there, yeah?”

Daenerys nodded slowly. “I wish I could move,” she said ruefully. “My backside is beginning to
ache.”

“Can I move you?” he asked, ready to help her sit

up.

“No, I’d rather not,” she sighed. “I’m terried it’s going to hurt.”

Jon nodded. “I can understand that,” he said, grinning. “Do you just need to complain about
it for a bit?”

She hued at him, but didn’t bother hiding her tired smile. “Maybe I do,” she answered.

Jon looked past her, out the window, admiring the bright sky, the grey clouds above
thinning enough to appear white. Blue patches peeked through, giving him hope. “Hey,
look out the window,” he said gently, pointing.

“What am I looking for?” she

asked.

Jon smiled at her, then looked past her and out the window again, getting her eyes to follow
“Just look out there. What do you
see?”

She blinked several times, her brow furrowed. “The sky?” she asked, making him laugh a
little.

“Mmmhmmm.”

“It’s brighter out there,” she whispered.

“That it is,” he agreed. “We’re still in for a Winter, but perhaps not as long or harsh as we
once thought.”

She was quiet for a long moment.”No one will go hungry, then, if Spring comes sooner
than expected.”

Jon squeezed her hand. “You’re right. You did that, Daenerys. You saved everyone.”

“No, I didn’t. You did all the ghting . . . ” She balked at taking all the credit.

“It was your plan that got us up there, Love. I was the one wielding the sword and dagger,
true, but it was you and Tyrion who planned it,” he argued back. “And that’s what I’m sticking
with,

what I’ll tell anyone who asks.”

Jon lied Daenerys onto her horse, pulling her long skirt down over her leg to hide the plaster
still in place. “You’re being ridiculous, I can do that myself,” she hued out at him as he tried to
help her adjust her good leg in the saddle. He unbuckled and removed the stirrup on her le
side completely, ignoring her as he went about his task. “Jon . . .”
“I don’t care what you think, you’re doing this my way or not at all,” he answered a little more
loudly than strictly necessary, struggling to hide his grin. She’d been getting decidedly . . .
stroppy

was the word that came most to his mind, but cranky bitch had crossed his thoughts a time or
two as well. Daenerys Targaryen did not do well when conned to a bed, and she was to the
point of taking them all down with her before Jon had relented and formulated a plan to get
her outside safely; he’d had her horse brought to the door and managed to carry her out to it
even as she grumped at him about it.

He grabbed the horse’s reins and calmly led them though the gate. “Feels a bit warmer out
here,” he observed. When she didn’t answer right away, he turned to look at her, but her eyes
were on all the people who had stopped to bow or kneel when Jon led her horse past them.
The half frozen mud inside the gates was thick from all the activity, so he led her straight out
the front gates to the hardier grass o the road.

“It seems much warmer than I remember it being when we arrived,” she agreed, smiling at
him, the double meaning not lost on Jon.

“They love you. They’ve seen you risk your own life to ght for them, Love. You’re their Queen
now.” He led her horse further out, and Drogon ewoverhead, roaring out his greeting when he
landed even further aeld. “You think she’ll get close enough?” he asked, referring to her horse.

Daenerys sighed and shook her head. “Likely not,” she answered, her disappointment
obvious.

“Soon enough,” he assured her, his pace steady as he led her horse through the grass. “It’s
only been . . .” He counted silently in his head. “Eighteen days.”

“It feels like eighteen years,” she complained. “I want this o. My leg itches and my knee hurts
from not being able to bend it any more than it already is. It’s maddening.” Dany kept the rest of
her complaints and restlessness to herself as she wondered briey why he was taking her so far
away from Winterfell before she stopped thinking about it and enjoyed the beautiful view of
rolling hills and trees in the distance. The grass swished and whispered in the wind that still
had a bite to it, though her hood was unnecessary.
“It makes me terried of when you take to your chamber,” Jon laughed. “You’re going to be
absolutely miserable.”

She wrinkled her nose and squinted her eyes at him in distaste, causing him to laugh again.
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” she answered wryly. “Maybe I’ll be too busy sleeping and
getting everything ready to have time to be miserable. Maybe I won’t have a connement at all.
Maybe

I’ll simply be in a council meeting one day and just leave in the middle of it all because it’s
time for the baby to be born,” she teased.

Jon stopped her horse, satised they were far enough away. “Now we’ve managed to get away, I
wanted to talk to you without people hovering over you and in the next room with their ears at
the door.”

“Oh no,” she commented dryly, uncertain.

“It’s not anything terrible, it’s just . . . we don’t have any privacy unless we make it,” he
pointed out. “And I wanted to speak to you about something personal.”

“I’m going to borrow your term, Jon, and ask you to hit me with it?” she asked, a small smile
on her face.

“When we win this war . . .”

Daenerys interrupted with a snort. “Rather presumptuous of you, isn’t

it?”

He shrugged. “The war I feared I wouldn’t survive has already been won. Now we’re going to
be
ghting an army that was counting on outnumbering us. They don’t outnumber us now because
of you. We’ve made plans, we’re as prepared as we can be, so I can’t worry about the rest
right now. My point is this: Are you set on going South right away or would you consider
returning to Winterfell for a time?” he asked.
“I don’t know?” she answered. “I mean, if there was political advantage to it, I suppose
we would. Is that what you’re asking?”

“No,” he replied. “Politics aside. We can be advised and haggled to death about it inside like
they do with everything else, and I’m not asking for that, anyway. I’m asking you personally.
What would you do, if no one was looking or cared what you did and you could make choices
without

any negative consequences?”

She let out a little laugh that felt more like a sob. “If it were up to just me and no one cared
what I did, I’d turn around aer defeating Cersei’s Golden Company and return to Winterfell,
never to leave again. I’ve never felt a place in the world that felt more like home, Jon. I love it
here. I love your family.”

Jon nodded a little at that, ddling with the braided leather reins in his hands. “I was hoping
you’d say that,” he responded quietly.

“Why do you ask?” she asked gently, knowing it had been troubling him, but didn’t know why.

“I’m going to miss it, is all,” he answered. “I’m of the North. King’s Landing . . . I mean, I
didn’t see the Red Keep any more than what we saw from the ships and the Dragon Pit, but
. . .”

“You didn’t like it,” she nished for him, nding his answer as he looked back at her, and she

nodded slowly in understanding. “It is dierent,” she began. “And I’m not entirely certain we’d
spend many of our days there at rst for quite some time. We’ll have to tour the kingdoms for
certain, and ensure our people know we care about them. It’s going to be a lot of traveling.”
She paused. “My fondest, most secret wish? Something I’ve kept to myself for weeks now?”
Jon’s eyes were focused so intently on her face she stopped in order to simply look at him and
let him see her love for him.

“Tell me,” he prompted. “I want to know.”

She sucked
our baby to in
bea born,
deep stay
breath.
untilI want
we’vetoallcome back to
recovered Winterfell
and and to
we’re ready stay
gohere
backwhen
to theit capital
s time as
for
a family.”

Jon’s smile lit up his whole face, not unlike Sansa’s did when she was really happy. “You’ve made
me a very happy man, Daenerys,” he said nally, then glanced at her sideways, teasing. “For
every baby, or just the rst?”

She let out a hu and an exasperated laugh before turning serious. “I can’t think of that right
now, Jon. I can’t. I meant what I said out there on the Milkwater. I might be able to think of
more once we have one baby, safe and healthy in my arms, but not before then. It seems
greedy,
like . . . I don’t know. The assumption that all will be well even once seems so far out of reach,
so unrealistic.”

Jon nodded, understanding her for a brief moment before the bitterness of her words sank in.
One at a time, Jon. Take this one at a time. He felt something odd in his gut at that thought.
Here he was, imagining they’d have enough children that there would be at least two always
underfoot and their bed full of wriggling and giggling little bodies every morning, and Daenerys
was barely able to fully grasp enough hope for just one. The feeling in his gut hurt, the way it
traveled up to his heart, how it ached and burned for her.

“I’m sorry we missed our rst chance,” he said gently, looking back up at her, reaching and
grabbing her hand to squeeze and hold. Her face had gone so and sad, but his words made
the tears well up in her eyes before she blinked them ercely away.

“I’m sorry, too.” Her voice matched his. “I wish I hadn’t been in so much pain.”

Jon nodded in agreement, looking out to the hills to give her time to do what she needed to
do without him staring at her. “You were in a lot of pain and I was terried of hurting you
more.
That’s why I refused that night,” he said nally. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m holding onto the thought that maybe it wasn’t meant to be so soon. Maybe the child
we’re meant to have won’t take root for another month. Maybe the month aer that,” she
replied,
shrugging. It s what I m telling myself anyway.

“That’s . . .” he raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. “That’s actually very optimistic of you.
Hang onto that, Love. It’s good and right. I’m holding onto that now, too. Thank you.”

Jon led her horse out further into the grass, out into the sunshine. “What do you see
over there?” he pointed toward the East.

She studied the sky, the land, everything in between. “I see the lands of the North?” she
asked.

“No, Love. Over there. See that dark line?” he asked, indicating where he
meant.

“No?” she asked. “It’s . . . I think I do . . . so far away. What is it, Jon?’ she
demanded.

“It’s our returning armies, Dany,” he laughed. “They’ll be here aer nightfall. We’d better go
in and get ready. I want a nap and a lling meal before Tormund gets here and wants me to
drink with him. I’m not going to last the night otherwise. Join me?”

We’re nearing the end of this story, my darlings. There’s maybe a handful of chapters e
l in
this specic tale, but I’m more than willing to do some other stories and turn it into a series if
enough people would kindly let me know if the interest is there.

Remember that tomorrow, October 31st of the year 2017 is Jonerys A/U Fest! I have a 7
chapter story I’m subming that I’ve been working on for weeks, so hope to see some (if
not all) y’all over on Tumblr to vote for your favorite things! Search for the tag: jonerys a/u
fest 

Have a safe and amazing

holiday! 
Tangent Chapter 15

Daenerys watched Arya from the barely cracked door as she moved pieces across the map in
the front room, waiting for them to come out. She nudged Jon with her elbow as she nished
tying

the front bodice of her dress. “She’s not going to stay behind, Jon,” she whispered to him.
“You shouldn’t try to force her to stay, either.”

“She knows Gendry Waters. He’s going with the Dothraki and half of the North’s army to
Harrenhal. She’s been there before with him, apparently,” Jon answered, keeping his voice quiet
as well. “They have a certain . . . aection for each other.”

“Really?” Dany snorted, her sarcasm heavy and laced with laughter. “I seem to recall her
screaming and inging her arms around him like he was as important to her as you. Is that what
you’re referring to as ‘aection’? I call that love.” She bit back the ‘you idiot’ part that nearly
escaped her mouth. It didn’t need to be said out loud. From the look on his face, he
already
knew she was thinking it, his half grin and raised eyebrows challenging her.

“I can hear you both,” Arya called back. “And neither of you can stop me from going.”

Dany looked at Jon and smiled. “I knew you could,” she answered, her voice clear and a
bit louder. “Marry him already, would you? Get on with it.”
Silence from the front room. Dany hopped her way to the door and opened it more. “Arya?”
she

asked, looking around, but she was gone. A scratching at the door made her yelp in surprise and
scramble as best she could for her crutch, but Jon beat her to the door, inging it open for
Ghost.

Dany sat down in the nearest chair, reaching her arms out for him, and the direwolf
directly into her, leaning heavily against her in the chair as she cried into his fur, clinging to
walked
him.
“You made it home,” she sobbed, pulling him into her. “You wonderful, brilliant darling. I missed
you so.”

“Wish you’d greet me like that when I come home,” Jon playfully grumbled at her.

“Oh, you get your own greeting and reward for coming home,” she shot back, sniing, then
turned back to Ghost. “I was so very worried about you.” Ghost shoved his nose in her face
and

she pressed her cheek to his muzzle, stroking his face with one hand, wiping her tears with
the other. “What took you so long to get home?”

He panted silently at her, then lay down at her feet, resting his great head in her lap. Jon
smiled at them. “Mother of Dragons and Direwolves.”

“Yes,” she agreed, smoothing Ghost’s fur, stroking around his ears and face. She leaned
forward and kissed him between his great red eyes. “I missed you.”

“We’re going to be late,” Jon reminded her, pointing to the door. “Ghost, let her up, would you?”

She tried to li Ghost’s head from her lap, but he turned on his own and snied at her leg. “I
know, it’s . . . I hate it, I really do,” she whispered to him. “The itching is slowly driving me
mad. Maybe in a few days I can have it o.” She gave him another loving stroke. “I need to go to
dinner, everyone is home now and we’re expected. You can stay and sleep, or you can come eat
with us.”
Ghost turned from her and stretched out on the heavy fur rug in front of the re. “That’s the
choice I’d make, too,” she agreed. “I’ll see you aer.”

Jon helped her up from the chair and eased his arms behind her legs and back, liing her and
carrying her to the door. He turned to look at Ghost. “Good to have you home, lad. Thanks for
saving my ass up there.” The direwolf lazily opped his tail against the oor, acknowledging Jon’s

words. “And that’s the extent of attention he gives me,” Jon grumbled as they stepped out of
the room. “You’ve spoiled him.”

“He just needed someone to give him aection,” she defended. “No wonder he was so insistent
that I not be afraid of him.”

“You’re heavier with the cast,” he teased as he carried her down the passageway to the
Great Hall. “Seven Hells, how do you haul that thing around everywhere?”

“Well, in case you didn’t know . . .” she began, wrapping her arms around his neck and
nuzzling him under his jaw. “It’s rather rmly attached to me and I have no bloody choice in the
matter.”

“You ready for this?” he asked, squirming away from her as she peppered little kisses down
his neck. “Quit that. I don’t want to drop you.”

“You won’t drop me,” she murmured, stiing her laugh. “You love me too much.”

He grunted out a laugh. “That I do,” he agreed. He didn’t need to even pause at the door, the
guards opening it for him as they approached, the Great Hall erupting in noise as he stepped
over the threshold and into the room, hundreds of candles in chandeliers and sconces lighting it
merrily as he carried her to her seat at the High Table. He deposited her carefully next to
Sansa and took his seat on her other side, yells and cheers and raised cups making more noise
than she could discern besides a great roar.

Lord Glover stood, his hands out in a motion so he could speak, the Hall nally quieting down. “I
was as suspicious as anyone in this room when our King in the North brought Daenerys
Targaryen under the protection of this House,” he paused and held up his cup toward them
and
drank deeply. “But I see now that my King chose our Queen wisely, recognizing her true heart,

her bravery, and her love of us all, though we would have turned her away.” He slammed his
empty cup down on the table and drew his sword, kneeling before her at the High Table.
“Our Queen in the North!”

“Our Queen in the North!”

Stunned, Daenerys looked from the growing number of kneeling lords to Jon, who simply
smiled at her and raised his cup to toast her before drinking. He leaned toward her, touching
her forehead with his. “I told you they’d come to see you for who you are,” he said, grinning at
her. “It’s good to be right once in a while.” He kissed her soly, causing further noise to rise in
the Hall.

She made to stand, and Jon helped her up, steadying her. “Thank you, my Lords and Ladies,”
she began, her tears rising but she was able to ght them back. “We’re only half done with the
ght,
unfortunately. We still have a war to wage with the false queen sitting on the Iron Throne. Most
of their army, the Golden Company, have been delayed in crossing the Narrow Sea due to
Winter storms, but they are coming, my lords. We don’t know where they’re going to make
port, we don’t know their numbers, though rumor states it will be some ten thousand men.”

A hush fell over the tables, all eyes focused on her. “Cersei Lannister had hoped she could
overcome us by numbers alone, hoping we would nearly all be dead from ghting for the Dawn,
but now we have the numbers to match them in battle, wherever in Westeros we should
meet.”

Lady Lyanna Mormont stood, Ser Jorah with her. “House Mormont recognizes that it is
because of our Queen that we all survived,” she called out, looking around the room. “Our
Queen pledged her armies, her dragons, her very life to the cause.” She pointed to Danys’
leg. “And defeated the enemy, our King and Queen risking their very lives for us all. I willingly
bend the knee to the True Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“And I willingly and wholeheartedly serve the North as I will the other six kingdoms of our
realm,” Daenerys swore to her, looking around the room. “And Lady Sansa Stark is hereby named
my Wardeness in the North, to bring me your troubles and cares, to serve you through
me.”

Sansa stood, smiling. “I shall serve both my Queen and the North with duty and joy,” she
promised. She moved to Dany’s side, a curtsy that fell to a kneel. “May the Seven
Kingdoms forever prosper with your reign, Your Grace.”

A deep and low ache overcame her as Maester Wolkan soaked and cut away at her plaster
with hot water, wet cloths, and sharp scissors. Her hand went to her abdomen, feeling the
ache slowly spread through her hips before it receded. Her moon blood was coming. Aer the
initial wave of sadness, she felt something dierent. She could start counting the days all over
again, and with the cast coming o . . . ve to seven days aer she was nished bleeding, she and
Jon could start trying again. The Battle for the Dawn was over. They only faced Cersei’s army
now, and Dany wasn’t nearly as afraid of the living and breathing army yet to come as she
was of the Night King and his Walkers.

“Your Grace?” he
questioned.

“It’s nothing,” she assured him. “Only my moon’s blood will come soon. I ache a little.”

“Would Your Grace like something for the discomfort?” he asked.

“No, it’s not bothersome enough for that,” she assured him. “I’d rather feel it. I’m hoping it may
be my last for quite some time.”

The maester nodded solemnly before continuing his work. “I am at your disposal for any
needs you may have in any regard, Your Grace,” he assured her.

Daenerys reached out and took his hand. “I know, and I thank you,” she said quietly. “I
appreciate your counsel in this.”
He gently prodded where her stitches had been. “Does the esh cause you pain?” he asked.

“No, but the bone beneath is rather tender,” she answered as he ran his ngers along her thigh
bone, testing it.

“It will be for several more weeks,” he answered, pulling back and nodding. “But you are
well. This bone happens to be the largest and thickest in your body, it holds your weight
healing
and frame while you are upright,” he explained. “It needs more time than most to grow
strong again.”

He pried apart the cast, and Dany turned her nose up at the smell. “Well, that’s just . . .
awful.”

“It’s nothing unusual,” he assured her, gesturing for Missandei to come in with her bowl of
hot water and soap. “No infection, no malformation of the healing bone, and certainly no
other

complications impeding your full and complete recovery, Your Grace.”

“Please tell me that you’re going to make it stop itching, too,” she asked her friend with a
laugh, glad to see her.

“First, we’ll wash it, then I have oil for your skin,” Missandei
promised.

“Lord Tyrion’s gi is ready for you, Your Grace,” the maester said, bringing out the metal and
leather contraption.

Dany nodded. “He had Gendry Waters help him with it, he said,” she recalled. “They’ve
forged me a brace so I can get around without Jon needing to carry me or using that awful
crutch.”

“You’ll be able to go outside?” Missandei asked. “Drogon misses you. Jon goes out to see
them daily, but Drogon always looks around Jon, waiting for you.”
“I know,” Dany answered sadly, but sighed in pleasure and relief as Missandei washed her leg,
laying back and humming. “That’s so much better,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Stop getting hurt and we’ll stop torturing you,” Missandei jested with a smile. She glanced
at the maester before she whispered to Daenerys. “If I may, could I have your counsel,
Your Grace?” she asked hesitantly.

Daenerys opened her eyes in surprise. “Of course,” she said, hauling herself upright.
“Whatever you might need of me, it’s yours.”

“It wouldn’t be until aer the war is over, of course,” Missandei began, looking down at her
hands while she worked the oil into Dany’s dry skin. “But we, Grey Worm and I . . . many of
the Unsullied would like to stay here in Westeros aer the war is over.” She paused a long
moment to let Daenerys consider the implications.

Curious as to what her friend was leading up to, Dany nodded for her to continue. “Go on,”
she urged. “Why do you need my advice for that?”

“With the compensation you’ve promised them, many would like to take it and start using it to
adopt children to help in the reconstruction, Your Grace,” she answered. “From what we know
and have seen of war, many children will be le without parents, without protectors, which
oen leaves a generation gap in the years to come as they perish from neglect. To serve their
queen in the future, the Unsullied would like to help prevent that gap in population and
prosperity by ensuring the abandoned children have safe homes and do not starve, Your
Grace.”

Stunned, Daenerys sat back against her pillows. “I . . . thank you for bringing this to my
attention. I have been trying to solve this very thing for months, but I hadn’t had the time yet
to think of anything eective other than lling the purses of the orphanages to the best of our
ability. I will bring this news to my Hand and Jon this aernoon.” She stared at the red and dark
pink gash in her leg. It matched the deep one on Jon’s chest where the boy had stabbed him.
“The sooner, the better, I think. Thank you, Missandei. We will work out the details, and
please, if Grey Worm or any of the other Unsullied have thoughts on this or any other matter
of the reconstruction, please bring it to my attention. We need all of our minds to take care of
our people.”
Missandei helped Dany dress in long wool stockings and her favorite breeches, easing her
down

onto the bed as the maester prepared the brace, showing them both how to buckle the leather
straps and how to secure the hinge at the knee to support the weight of her injured leg. Aer
her warm leather boots were laced and tightened, the maester buckled the last strap securely
at the ankle and helped Dany to stand before he stepped backward and held his hands out for
her to take as she walked the few steps forward.

“Go slowly, Your Grace. If it causes pain, stop and we’ll adjust it,” he encouraged, his eyes on her
feet to watch how she walked.

Daenerys picked up her le foot and swung it forward slowly before placing her foot rmly on
the oor again, shiing her weight from her good leg to her injured one, smiling a little. “My
knee aches a bit from disuse,” she observed as she rested her weight briey on her wounded leg
before taking another step. “But it doesn’t hurt to walk.”

All three of their heads rose as the front room door opened and shut, the particular and
distinct sound of Jon’s boots on the stone oor coming toward them. He entered the
bedchamber, the cold outside had tinged his face pink, snow still thick in his hair. He looked up
at them and gave a pleased smile to Dany. “You’re up,” he greeted, tossing his ice encrusted
cloak and gloves onto the rack near the re. He bent over and shook his head like Ghost did aer
coming in out of the snow, shaking the snow and water out of his hair before moving to her
side. The maester and Missandei le the room, giving them some privacy.

Jon slid his hands around her lambswool shirt, caressing her waist. “Thank the gods you got
that impossible thing o. Hurt at all?” he asked, pulling her close. “I love how warm you are.”

She smiled a little and kissed him soly, nestling herself into his arms. “It doesn’t hurt,” she
answered. She looked at his now dripping cloak. “Still snowing out, hmm?”

“It is,” he answered. “Thick and fast. We might get another few feet before it stops. We’ve
been clearing as many paths as we can out there.”
She let out a contented sigh against his chest, his warm scent comforting her. “I’m . . . My moon’s
blood is coming,” she said soly against his shoulder. “And then about a week aer that we

can . . . ”

He craned his neck down and kissed her cheek. “I’m ready,” he said gently. “I know you are.” He

kissed her ear before he whispered into it. “Must we wait until that time?”

“No,” she answered, her voice turning into a little breathless laugh. “But that’s when
it’ll happen.”

“I think we should warm up to that, don’t you? Practice a few times?” he prompted, grinning
against her hair before he tucked his face into her neck, rubbing his bearded chin against her
so skin, making her squirm and giggle.

“What? Like now?” she asked, laughing a little more. “You want to right now.”

“Well, if Your Grace insists,” he chuckled. She smacked him lightly on the chest, making
him laugh more. “You fell for it. What was I supposed to do, let that opportunity sneak by
me?”

“Gods, you’re infuriating sometimes,” she laughed. She pressed her lips to his chest, then
moved lower, parting her lips and teeth over his nipple.

“Don’t you dare bite me,” he threatened, making her laugh even more. “It’s torture when
you bite, Dragon Queen.”

A heavy knock sounded on their bedroom door, making Daenerys catch her breath, startled.
“The time for play is over,” Tyrion’s voice called out. “We’re convening in the Great Hall. Either
make it fast or keep it for later. You have a half hour before I’ll send someone to fetch you.” They
heard him turn and leave their chambers, shutting the door loudly as he stepped out.
“You’ll have to wait a few days if we don’t make it fast,” she whispered to him. “I’m going to start
in a few hours, at most. Please Jon, make it fast.”

Jon grinned against her lips as he kissed her, tugging on the laces of her breeches.
“Shit, you’ve . . . how do we get that o?” he demanded, tapping her brace.

“Work around it,” she said rmly, opening his pants and pushing them down, grabbing him and
startling him as she gently squeezed. “This is mine.”

“How the fuck am I to work around it?” he demanded, trying to not laugh at the look of
determination on her face when he attempted to push her hands away from his rapidly
growing cock.

“Just . . . oh here,” she said, heaving a sigh of mock frustration as she let him go. She tugged
down her breeches and then sat on the bed, pulling only her right leg out. “ There. That’s
how you work around it.”

“And now you’re right where I want you,” he growled in a whisper, kneeling on the braided rug
and pushing her back on the bed, wasting no time in leaning forward to swipe his tongue up
her sex.

Dany hummed her approval, combing her ngers in his hair as he teased and suckled at her

esh. “You taste dierent,” he murmured against her. “Still so good, just . . . dierent.”

“I expect so,” she whispered breathlessly. “I think you’ve only ever done this while I was . . .
ahh, Jon,” she trailed o, biting back her groan as he pushed his tongue into her. “Gods, Jon. Yes.”

He hummed in approval as he clutched near painfully at her bare hips, pulling her closer. He
was doing his best to distract her from her train of thought, which she deeply appreciated;
both the method and intent. He’d only ever had his mouth on her while she was pregnant.
Soon, he was backing away from her, scooting her up the bed onto the pillows, following
her straight down, not wasting a spare second in impaling her, kissing her ercely as he
began to

aggressively ram into her, making her bite her lip to keep her wail controlled. “It’s been
weeks,” he growled out between thrusts. “And there’s no time to play. I need you.”

She arched her back, moving with him. “Please, Jon,” she begged. “Harder. Ride me harder.
I need more.”

“You’re lthy today,” he teased, complying. “I like it.” She hued out a laugh that ended on a long,
drawn out gasp as she rolled her hips against his onslaught, exing her muscles around him to
draw as much pleasure from him as she could. “Ah, gods. I can feel that,” he groaned, hanging
his head down to press his forehead against her chest.

Suddenly, he pulled out of her, making her squeak in protest, but he simply rolled her onto
her
belly and plunged back in as far as he could, his harsh groan blending with her cry of
pleasure. “Daenerys,” he seethed, his pace growing cruel and harsh as she backed into him
as best she
could, encouraging him as he reached down to stimulate her for a moment as he pounded
her from behind, letting her go as he let himself go inside her, biting her on the shoulder as
he groaned out with the force of it.

Dany smiled into the pillow as he went limp on top of her, heaving and gasping for air. She
wiggled her hips slightly, and he pinched her gently on her side, tickling her as he pulled
out. “You owe me one,” she said.

“What? You didn’t?” he demanded, ipping her over.

“No, but I liked it just the same and we have no time for that,” she answered, attempting to
sit up. “Later. We have to get dressed and go.”

“Oh the hells with that,” he growled at her, lowering his mouth to suckle on her, thrusting his
ngers into her and sucking until she was rolling her hips and whimpering, squeezing his ngers as
he helped her ride out her orgasm, pulling away as she began to come down from her high. “I
don’t like being beholden to anyone, even my wife.”

“Proud of yourself, are you?” she

panted.

“Yeah, I am, actually,” he deadpanned, standing up and replacing his shirt. “I’m also relieved you

nally got that monstrosity o your leg. I can work with the brace, but that plaster was hideous.”
His pants, which had never made it all the way o him, were easily donned once more. He
smirked and winked at her when she laughed. “Your face is all pink and gorgeous,” he
teased. “They’re going to take one look at you and know exactly why we’re late.”

“I think it’ll all be excused once we give them an heir, Jon,” she said soly, smiling at him as he
gently tugged her shirt over her head before helping her stand up again. “Oh no,” she
protested in warning when he put his hand on the handle of the door. “Go wash your hands
and face before you even think of stepping out there.”

“What? You’re afraid Ser Jorah’s going to come sni at my face?” he asked, then laughed as the
pillow hit him on the chest.

“You’re awful,” she giggled, but pointed to the washbasin. “I’m afraid it’s a bit more obvious
than that.”

He looked at his hand. “Oh,” he said, sobering up quickly at the sight of the faint, pale pink
stain on his ngers. “Please tell me this isn’t because I hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” she said rmly. “But we don’t want to risk the slight chance anyone else sees that,
especially now.”

Jon came to her then, kissing her gently, lovingly. “Here’s to the last one,” he said meaningfully.
“The last time you’ll bleed for quite some time.” He stepped over to their basin and washed
himself as she’d asked, then opened the door. “I’ll leave you to sort yourself out. See you in a bit.
I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Her answer was heartfelt and made her tear up a
little.

Tangent Chapter 16

Daenerys woke when Jon laid his hand on her shoulder and jostled her gently. She was
surprised to open her eyes and see him already dressed, ready to leave the warmth of
Winterfell. “Raven arrived a few minutes ago,” he whispered, giving her a chance to wake
before he leaned down to kiss her. “The Golden Company has landed in King’s Landing and
they’re riding North. We’ve got to move.” The world beyond the window told her it was still too
early for the light to have come.

Disappointment ran through her. It was The Day if they wanted to conceive, and now they had
to leave Winterfell. She wondered if Jon remembered, but realized that he very likely did and
it couldn’t be helped at the moment. “Right,” she answered, sitting up and very gently turning
her
body so her feet were on the oor. “Where’s Missandei . . .”

“I’m here, Daenerys,” she said, coming to her side. “Everything’s ready.”

Dany stood slowly, and gingerly took the few steps from the bed to the chair. Jon grabbed her
arm to help her while Missandei helped her put on the heavy wool socks and long wool
pants before pulling her leather breeches over the top. Jon knelt down and helped her
strap on her splint as Missandei worked on her boots, lashing it down on top of her sti
leather boot and securing the buckles.
Jon, already dressed and ready, had her silver fur coat in his hands, ready for her to turn so
he could drop it gently over her shoulders. She condently walked to him, her leg supported
and pain free. “All you need to do is walk out to Drogon,” he said quietly. “Let him do the
rest.”

“Where are our armies?” she asked.

He grinned at her. “The Dothraki are holding Riverrun, the Unsullied and the army of the
North are holding Harrenhal with Arya and Gendry. They all made their posts in time.
Everything’s ready, they just need us to y in.”

He pressed a biscuit into her hand, melted cheese inside the warm bread. “Eat it on the
way, can’t have you getting hungry. We’ll have a proper meal when we get there.” He
guided her

gently down the long, dimly lit corridors.

“Does my leg still count as me being wounded?” she asked wryly as they walked through
the passages to reach the gates. “Because I’d rather just stick with the leg instead of
adding something new this time.”

“Talk to Drogon about that. I’m sure he’d like for you to not get hurt, either,” he said pointedly.

As soon as they were through the gates, the hills all around them sparkling brightly in the
moonlight, Jon grabbed her hand and pulled her close to kiss her. “I love you,” he
whispered. “Stay safe up there, we’ve got kingdoms to rule and babies to make.”

She hued out a laugh. “You be safe too,” she whispered back, running her thumb against his
bottom lip, seeing their breaths mingle and rise between their faces before disappearing into
the cold. “I need your help to rule the kingdoms and to make the babies, Jon.”
He smiled at her, then nodded. “Let’s get you back out there on Drogon. We’ve got an army
to meet.”

Drogon and Rhaegal waited for them, already knowing it was time to go. He grabbed her
hand and squeezed it. “Will you reconsider going to Riverrun over Harrenhal?”

“No,” she said rmly. “We stay together. I’m going with you to Harrenhal. That was the plan
agreed upon by all our war council, and that’s the strategy I’m keeping.”

He nodded. “Blame me for trying?” he asked.

“No, but I’m glad there’s no time to argue about it,” she said, turning from him and crossing
the short distance of ice encrusted snow to Drogon’s side, stroking him soly on his face and
around his great red eye. He lowered his wing and shoulder for her to climb on, and with
gritted teeth and a bit of struggle, she managed to settle on his back with only slight pain to
her leg. Her
stomach in knots, she wordlessly urged him to take ight, feeling something akin to fear for the
rst time as they le the glittering snow for the starry skies above.

Aer an hour or more, the sun began to rise on her le, so she turned to admire the pink line of
the early morning horizon. She didn’t feel the cold so acutely as she had North of the Wall,
Drogon producing more than enough warmth beneath her. With the coming dawn she could
see Rhaegal and Jon below her on her right, the faint morning sun glittering o Rhaegal’s
scales. She placed a hand on Drogon’s neck, his warmth reassuring her.

It wasn’t many more hours before she could see the ruined castle in the distance, eyes growing
wide at the immense destruction by Balerion the Dread as they circled above it, gradually
lowering their altitude until Drogon was alighting on the ground, more agile than he’d ever
done before. He knows I’m still hurt, she realized.

Dany didn’t know whether to stay on him or dismount, so she waited for Jon, who was
already on the ground and meeting with Lords Glover and Cerwin, Arya standing behind
them with her arms crossed, Needle and the catspaw at her hips. Jon turned to look at her,
waving at her to stay where she was for the moment, so she relaxed against Drogon as he
settled on the grass. She stared up at the immense towers in front of her, their bulging and
throat thick with sadness and awe. She noticed the wind o the lake was bitter and damp,
permeating her hair and collecting on the fur of her coat in tiny beads of water like on a
spider’s
web, a slight steam rising o Drogon as they waited.

When Jon came for her, Drogon shied his shoulder to help her down, easing her nearly
into Jon’s arms. “All right?” he whispered, kissing her cheek.

“I am,” she reassured him as they began to walk toward the high walls of Harrenhal. “My
leg’s tired, though.”

“Let’s go inside and get comfortable for a few hours. We’ve got time yet,” Jon said quietly,
waving at people as they walked past.

“How much time?” she asked anxiously.

“Time enough for our other duty to the realm, Your Grace. It would have to be today,
wouldn’t it?” he asked, giving her a half smile.

She smiled in relief. He remembered. She shook her head as she replied, “That does seem to
be how things work for us, doesn’t it?” she asked.

He held the heavy oak door open for her, his hand on her back as he guided her through.
“Truer
words were never spoken, Your Grace,” he agreed, that half smile still on his face, his voice just
a trie louder than she expected. She loved that he kept his hand against her back as Arya led
them through the Hall to one of the ruined towers, to a set of rooms at the end of the long
stairway.

“It’s far away from everyone else,” she said quietly. “You two can talk here without anyone
overhearing. Latest raven came an hour before you did, the Golden Company was crossing the
Blackwater Rush. They’re going to pass right between us and Riverrun, likely tomorrow. The
rest of the Lannister forces are with them.”
Dany nodded, then looked at Jon. “We’re going to get some sleep,” he said. “We’ll meet
with everyone in the Great Hall in a few hours, we can plan the battleeld then.”

Arya gave him a quick smile and then le soundlessly. “Get some sleep,” Dany repeated. She
didn’t know whether or not she even wanted to take her coat o in this castle, the air from the
lake so damp and cold. “Is that the bedchamber back there?” she asked, but then went to the
door herself, pushed it open and entered.

A re in the replace chased o the immediate chill, and when Dany took o her coat and hung it
near the re to dry, she shivered slightly. “It’s colder here than I thought it would be,” she
whispered.

“It is,” Jon agreed, going to the high window. “It’s open. No wonder it’s cold,” he observed. He
pulled a table over to the wall and climbed up, pulling the hinged plate of glass closed.
“There.”

The ceilings were high. Daenerys admired the open timbers of it so high above her. “It’s
beautiful and sad here,” she whispered, easing herself down into a chair near the re, waiting
for the room to warm a little. “I mean, I know the history, but actually seeing it . . . what a
beautiful place this must have been before . . .”

She sat and watched as Jon shrugged out of his cloak and hung it next to hers, kicked o his
boots and shed his brigandine away from the re’s warmth to prevent the heat from warping the
leather. He loosened the laces of his leather vest underneath, pulling it over his head before
pulling o his socks. He looked up pointedly at her. “We don’t have a whole lot of time,” he said
gently. “And I want to spend as much of it as I can in that bed with you.”

“Oh,” she whispered. She pushed herself up onto her feet and went to the edge of the bed,
unbuckling and unlacing as best she could, when a very naked Jon nally came to her aid,
removing her boots and pulling gently at pants and stockings aer the brace hit the stone oor
with a sharp, metallic clatter.

He pushed her back slowly with a hand on her chest and he knelt up from the oor and slid up
her body between her legs, easily liing her up to the pillows. She shivered slightly, so he
grabbed the blanket at the foot of the bed and pulled it up over them. “You won’t care about
the
cold for long,” he whispered, kissing her soly on the neck. “I promise.”

Dany hummed at him and tilted her head back to give him full access to her neck, sighing as he
gently rubbed his chin up her jaw. His skin was warm against hers, pressed against her
wherever he could manage. She ran her hands from his shoulders down his arms, then
smoothing them up
from his hips to his back.

“You’re tense,” he whispered against her mouth. “We can’t do this if you’re tense.”

She nodded. “I know, I’m trying not to be,” she whispered back.

Jon kissed her soly on the lips, then moved down her chin to her neck, trailing his mouth over

her breasts, inhaling her scent as he kissed his way down to her navel. He stopped there,
her and slid his hands from her waist up her ribcage to her breasts, letting his ngers do the
kissing
work for him, grinning against her skin as she sighed and rolled her hips up to him, pressing
herself to his chest, nding no relief. “I love you,” he whispered, then moved down, holding her
thighs apart with gentle hands as he began to kiss her, lick her, groaning at her aroused scent
as he suckled at her. “There we go,” he whispered as she began to move with him, needing
more. “That’s better, Love.”

“I need you, Jon,” she whimpered.

“You have me, Daenerys,” he answered, ignoring her plea and her hands as she tried to grab
him and pull him up to her. “But I’m busy right now.” He fended her o and dove for her again,
feeling pleased with himself as she gasped out and whimpered every time he passed his tongue
over her.

Finally, she hued out a laugh. “I’m in a strange, cold bed and you have all the blanket down
there. Come up here, please?”
He moved up, grinning at her. “See, now was that so hard to ask nicely?” he teased as he
pushed himself into her.

She sighed soly. “That’s what I wanted.”

“Good,” he groaned. “You always feel so good.”

She wrapped her legs around his hips, and one of his hands dried down to stroke her leg
before he tucked it under her rear and pulled her tighter against him as he thrust into her
deeper and kissed her.

Suddenly, a knock at their door made him pause, hovering over her mid-thrust as she tensed
up beneath him again. Godsdammit. It took forever to relax and now . . . “Later,” he growled
out.
“We’ll be out later.” He looked down at her and smiled before he kissed her, a hot and quick sup
at her mouth.

“Your Grace, I must insist . . .” She didn’t recognize the voice, which just made her tense
up more.

He rolled his eyes, looking away from her toward the door. “I really must insist you fuck o. We’ll
be down later,” he emphasized. Seven Hells, he mouthed to her.

That’s all it took. She sighed and relaxed under him, and he grinned down at her again, grinding
against her the way she loved as they kept so quiet that they could hear the footsteps fade
away from their outer rooms. Daenerys bit her lip against the moan rising from her chest,
quelling it,
ghting any sound as Jon moved so deeply within her. She wrapped her arms around his
shoulders and pulled herself up to whisper in his ear. “I’m close,” she gasped out, nipping him
on the earlobe.

“I know,” he whispered back against her cheek. “Hang on to me. I like it when you do that.”
She sucked in a breath and used her arms to hold onto him, her back and shoulders o the bed
completely as she let her head roll back, exposing her neck once more, hissing out as he
nipped

at her. “Don’t mark me, Jon,” she warned.

“I won’t,” he assured her. “Though who would really care if I

did?”

“Me,” she answered, then arched her body slightly, making him groan in pleasure as he began
to speed up his leisurely pace. She hummed out her approval, bringing her mouth back to his
as she began to fall apart, clinging onto him as he started to grind against her, drawing out her
pleasure as he found his, biting her lower lip as he sucked it, no longer capable of an actual
kiss as he growled into her mouth.

Daenerys let go of his neck, falling back soly onto the bed. Jon grabbed one of the pillows
from behind her and propped her hips up with it, smiling at her. “I’m gonna just stay for a bit,”
he
panted out, relaxing against her.

She brought her hands up to comb through his tangled curls, cradling his head against her
chest. “Where did you learn that?” she asked.

“Learn what?” he asked as he turned slightly and kissed the breast under his
cheek.

She wriggled her hips at him a little. “ The pillow thing?” she asked. He slipped out of
her. “Oops,” she whispered, giggling.

He laughed a little. “Oh, that,” he said, then shrugged. “Nobody, really. It just makes
sense, doesn’t it? When you’re . . . up like that, nothing comes out.”

“I thought maybe your Wildling girl had taught you that,” she
whispered.
“Ygritte? No.” He chuckled at the thought, then shook his head. “Her favorite thing to do
was make fun of me. Then she shot me full of arrows because I wouldn’t help them kill
people.”

“Oh,” Dany responded, surprised. “But you loved her? She shot
you!?”

Jon nodded. “Aye, she did, and I loved her,” he agreed. “Though now . . . now it feels like I liked
her well enough, but not really loved her the way I thought I did.” He seemed thoughtful, so
Dany watched him from the comfort of the bed until he had considered and sorted his
thoughts. “It’s like . . . shit. I can’t compare. I don’t want to. She’s gone and you’re here. I had
to learn a few things so I could appreciate love properly, I think.”

“Oh Jon,” she whispered. “I feel the same.”

To her disappointment, he moved o her and pulled on his pants. “I’m done in for a bit,” he
whispered, sitting down next to her on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Was it the talking?”

“No,” he answered, covering her carefully with the blanket. “It wasn’t, I promise.” He stretched
out next to her and kissed her cheek as he rested his arm over her chest. “I love you,
Daenerys.”

“I love you, Jon,” she answered. She brought her hand up from under the blanket to touch him,
his beard tickling her ngers as she traced his jawline and face before moving it downward, over
his heart and pausing for a moment to feel it beat under her palm, then continuing
downward into the front of his laced pants.

“What are you doing?” he asked, amused.

“Trying to get you to change your mind,” she answered mildly, looking up from where her
“I don’t know if I can go again for a bit,” he whispered in warning, but kissed her just the
same.

“I need you to, Jon. I need this,” she said quietly, urgently. She shied from her back to her
side,

sliding down the bed until she was eye level with his cock, only slightly hard despite her
hand stroking him. She pulled the laces open as far as they could go and then sucked him
into her
mouth.

“Daenerys!” he yelled. “What the . . . shit . . . yeah.” He groaned and rolled to his back, his
hands buried in her her hair as she moved with him, shiing to kneel between his thighs as she
ran her tongue along the bottom of his cock, sighing through her nose as he took a handful of
her hair and moved it out of the way so she could breathe.

She grinned to herself as he rapidly began to harden and swell, pulling back to look him in the
eyes. “You taste of me,” she whispered, then lowered her mouth to him again, keeping her
eyes
on his as he began to move with her, watching his face as it contorted in pleasure, that re so
familiar to her igniting behind his eyes. The Blood of the Dragon runs as hot in him as it does
me. His hands were gripping her hair a fraction too tightly, the pain causing nerve endings
down her spine to come to life.

He let out a groan as she nally released him, sitting back to gauge his reaction. “Get on your
knees,” he whispered hoarsely, sitting up and pulling her toward him. He took her hands and
had her grab onto the low headboard before he moved behind her. “Hang on.”

Dany braced herself in anticipation, knowing what was coming. He grabbed her hips and
penetrated her slightly, teasing her, gliding in and out for barely a breath before he slammed his
hips ush against her ass, taking her as deeply as he could, making her wail out in pleasure. He
didn’t wait, didn’t try to stimulate her in any way, just kept hitting her over and over again as
deeply as he could. Dany could feel it building inside her; she was going to come without any
extra help from him, loving how rough he could be without hurting her, she trusted him to not
hurt her, she could feel his groans vibrating through them both as he went harder, faster,
Daenerys nally surrendering, crying out with it as he slammed into her one last time, keeping
himself pressed inside against that spot that felt so good it made her ache as he bellowed out
release.

He laid his head against her back as she let go of the headboard, his breath coming out in
heaves and gasps, not at all unlike her own. “Warn me rst next time you do that,” he gasped
out, making her laugh under him. He pulled the pillow under her hips and pushed her down to
the bed with a warm palm between her shoulder blades. “Keep that beautiful ass in the air for
me,” he whispered, then pulled out of her, backing away and nipping her on one rounded
cheek, causing her to squeal and jump. “Most gorgeous ass in Westeros,” he groaned, running
his hands over her.

“I’m afraid there’s a bit of competition for that title,” she answered back, her voice mued
by the pillows.

He leaned down and pulled the bedding away from her face. “Say again?” he
teased.

“There’s a bit of competition for that title,” she repeated. “But it matters not, seeing as
the competition is in this bed with me.”

He moved closer to her and kissed the tip of her nose as he chuckled. “Get some sleep,” he
whispered. “And we’ll give it another go tonight aer dinner. I swear to you, if it’s in my power,
there will be an extra Targaryen leaving Harrenhal with us when we go home.”

Daenerys stood with Jon on the edge of the hill above the battleeld, Drogon and Rhaegal
behind them. High Heart, the hill was called. Arya wouldn’t go up to where they were, nor
would she say why, so she stood with Gendry lower down on the slope. “They’re late,” she
observed. “I wonder what kept them.”

On the eld below, the Unsullied and the Dothraki anked the Northern armies. She could see
the Golden Company lines, archers in front of their cavalry, and she could plainly see that
they were outnumbered though they had spread out to hide it.
 They y a banner of truce, Grey Worm said grimly, squinting his eyes to see better.

Dany looked at Jon and he shrugged. “Then we go down there and talk. They didn’t expect to
be outnumbered, I’m guessing.” He looked at the assembled lords and leaders. “Grey Worm, I
want you and Lord Glover, Lord Jaime Lannister and Clegane to ride with us. Daenerys,” he
said, looking to her in warning. “Keep your head. We burn no one under a banner of truce, no
matter how they try to provoke.”

She turned to look at him, then Tyrion, who tried to look as if he hadn’t heard Jon. “Do you
want me to go at all?” she demanded. “Or would you rather I stay behind?”

“No, we need you,” Jon answered, reaching his hand out for hers. “We’ll ride our horses.”

“No, I will ride Drogon,” she countered. “I won’t risk us if the banner proves
false.”

“It will be seen as a threat,” Jon protested. “Ride your horse.”

She looked down the hill, then back at him. It came out before she could stop it; her knee-
jerk reaction was to openly defy his perceived order. “No, I will ride Drogon.”

Jon leaned over to her, bringing his mouth to her ear. “You’re spoiling for a ght. Stand down, I’m
trying to help.”

Dany looked at him before she narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. He was
challenging her. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do,” she said slowly.

He grabbed her gently by the elbow and pulled her aside where they could talk at least a little
privately. “I swear to gods, Daenerys, do not go down there with Drogon. They’ll retract that
banner and a lot of people will die needlessly before we have a chance to hear what they
have to say. I know you, probably better than anyone at this point. You’re posturing for a ght,
you’re in absolutely no condition . . . ” he dropped o,not wanting anyone to hear him. He
looked down toward the battleeld. “Compromise. You ride your horse, Drogon and Rhaegal
circle above us, ready to dive and burn it all to the ground at the slightest hint of
deception.

Agreed?”

“Fine,” she answered tersely.

He leaned over to her. “Do not start with me right now. We’re a united front, remember?”
he replied, keeping his tone low and even.

“We were until you started telling me what to do,” she snapped back.

He shook his head and stalked o, returning with their horses. He pointed to hers. “Get on the
fucking horse, Daenerys. I’m not having any of this bullshit from you today.”

Stunned, she permitted him to help her onto her horse and she took the reins from him, but
refused to look at him until he put his hand on her knee. “Let’s not stretch the ght out for a
week like we did before,” he said quietly. “You can be mad all you want, I don’t care right now. If
we live through the day, we’ll sort it later. If not, I love you, Daenerys. I want you to know that
if everything else goes to shit.”

Her heart thumped sickeningly in her chest. He was serious, and he wasn’t certain they’d win
the
ght if it came to that. “I love you too,” she whispered, then kicked her horse to join the rest of
the party, Ser Jorah and Sandor Clegane following closely behind her. With the Northern
lords behind her, she turned to look for Jon, then pulled her horse up to wait for him.
“United front,” she said soly, and felt relieved when he nodded at her.

As they approached the men in the center of the eld under the banner of truce, she quickly
sized them up. One was an overweight man with greying hair and a terrible combover. She
could hardly believe that she was looking at the famed captain of the Golden Company, Harry
Strickland. He met her eyes, and they widened almost imperceptively, but she knew the look of
an outnumbered man desperately seeking a deal. What she wasn’t prepared for was the older
red haired man next to him, graying at the temples and beard, an air of better days and ner
things about him. He openly stared at her, but she had no name to identify him. When she
and Jon approached to speak, Tyrion announced them rst, then one by one as the rest of the
lords of the North, her Dothraki kos, the Unsullied commanders, followed by Jaime and
Brienne.

Several things seemed to happen at once. The older red haired man dismounted his hourse,
Clegane and Jaime both dismounted and drew their swords, Ser Jorah rode his horse between
her and the man on the ground, and the red haired man dropped his sword to the ground in
front of him as he bent the knee to her. “Jon Connington of Grin’s Roost, Your Grace,” he
said, his voice deep and sad. “I loved your brother, Rhaegar. I failed him.”

Stunned, she stared at him. He had known Rhaegar. “Yet you ride with my enemy, my Lord,” she
said nally.

He stayed as he was, bowing his head. “Only to reach you sooner, My Queen. We were riding
for Volantis in hopes of meeting your ships there. We were two days too late; you had already
passed on your way to Dragonstone. Cersei Lannister has paid for us to ght. Gold is our pledge,
though we are no sellswords.”

She looked up from Connington to Strickland, who nodded and dismounted, taking a knee,
though it looked like it physically pained him to do so. “Harry Strickland, captain of the
Golden Company,” he introduced himself.

“You’re here to surrender?” she asked from her elevated position on her
horse.

Strickland looked up at her. “We’ve come to you in the hopes that you would let us come
home, Your Grace. We are all exiles from Westeros, sought gold and honor with our
brotherhood in Essos, waiting for the time when we could come home. If you invite us to stay,
we will drop our swords against you and take them up against your enemies.”

Ser Jorah looked appraisingly at Strickland. “The Golden Company prides itself on not ever
going back on a contract, Captain,” he said grimly, looking to Jon and Dany.
“The Iron Bank funds Cersei,” Connington agreed. “But there’s no honor in ghting against the
rightful rulers of Westeros, not for all the gold a Lannister can muster.” He stood and sheathed
his sword, looking around at her war council as more assembled at the front line. “As I see it,

there’s a mad woman sitting in your Red Keep, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. I also
see that even both her brothers stand here with you, against her. I can’t break faith where
there was no faith from the start.”

Strickland rose when Dany gestured for him to do so. “And you, Captain?” she
asked.

He sighed. “I will miss my elephants in Volantis dearly,” he said regretfully. “But it hardly
compares to missing home, the land of my great grandfather. I too, wish to stay.”

“Your men?” Jon asked, nodding toward the assembled Golden

Company.

“There were some disagreement when we came ashore,” Connington admitted, looking at Jon
in a way that made Dany feel uncomfortable. The gaze was intense and so focused that she
wondered if Connington knew something she didn’t. “It has been resolved amongst us and
we’re now unanimous. We came for gold, but we’ll ghtfor you if we can stay in our homeland.”

“I grant your request,” Daenerys said simply. She looked toward the sky, seeing Drogon and
Rhaegal circling in a downward spiral to land further aeld. “What of them?” she asked, nodding
toward the Lannister army that anked the Golden Company.

“Say the word and each and every one of them is a prisoner of war,” Strickland answered.
“We will not kill them unless Your Grace commands it.”

“I don’t want them dead,” she answered. “The fewer lives lost, the better. So be it.”

Strickland pulled a horn from under his cloak and blew four times on it, the sound ringing loud
and clear in the drizzling rain. A great roar erupted from the Golden Company men and
Daenerys watched as the Lannister army was surrounded by the cavalry and their weapons
tried to ee, only to be thrown to the ground and tied together by archers.

Jon nudged her knee with his, nodding at her solemnly. Ser Jorah backed his horse up from
between Dany and Connington so she could see him. “If I may, My Queen, you have the look
of your mother. She was a rare beauty with something even more precious within; a kind
and loving heart.”

“My father raped my mother,” she answered him. “While the world stood aside and let him. He
burned people alive and yet no one stopped him until,” she gestured toward Jaime. “He was
killed by one of his own guards. Was Jaime Lannister the only one in that room with a
conscience?”

He lowered his face from her gaze, bowing low. “It’s good that you know the truth, My
Queen,” he answered sadly. “However much I regret that truth.”

“You claim you were Rhaegar’s friend. Where were you when he was killed? Where were you
when his wife and children were murdered?” she asked, barely able to contain the hurt and
grief she could feel thrumming in her blood.

Jon laid a hand on her arm. “Maybe these are questions best asked in a private audience,
Your Grace,” he said quietly. He squeezed her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

She inhaled a deep breath of damp, cold air. “We welcome you home, my lords,” she said, and
turned her horse to ride back to Harrenhal.

“I was with Ser Willem Darry, Your Grace,” he called out to her, and she pulled up her horse,
though she didn’t turn around. “I smuggled you and Viserys on the ship while the rest in
Dragonstone burned. Only a day old and the most beautiful child I’d ever seen. I hid you in
my coat, your brother in a sack on my back.”

She closed her eyes against the burning tears and she nudged her horse to continue its
toward Harrenhal. She hadn’t expected Connington’s words to cause such a pain in her heart,
so she kicked her horse into a slow loping gallop, feeling the rain sting her face. She saw the
approaching Dothraki on their horses, and they swept around her like a river around a stone,
circling and washing her away with them as they rode back to their lines in safety.

 Jon Connington was indeed helping to smuggle a baby with Varys during Robert’s Rebellion,
but it wasn’t Daenerys. In ADWD he claims the boy is his son, but Tyrion deduces that it is
young Aegon, Rhaegar’s son, smuggled from King’s Landing with Connington to be raised as
Young Gri. I have my own doubts about the legitimacy of Tyrion’s deduction, but that’s
neither here nor there in this story. I needed to have Connington in this story since Ser
Barristan Selmy is dead (sob) and I needed someone who knew Rhaegar to help Dany and
Jon both come to terms with their history.

Tangent Chapter 17

Daenerys turned and looked back at Harrenhal as they began their ride South, the melted
towers beyond the lake looking as sad and melancholy as they’d done when she’d arrived. She
shivered; the damp chill from their stay yet to fully leave her body, though by the end of the rst
week, she had moved the bedding to the oor in front of the replace in her attempts to stay
warm.

She brought her gaze to take in the cartloads and lines of prisoners behind her, the
Unsullied marching in their uniformed lines behind them, then her eyes came to rest on
Jon in front of them. He was deep in conversation with Connington, just as they had been
for nearly three weeks since the surrender, Jon oen coming to bed long aer she’d already
gone to sleep.
“You ought to speak with him, Daenerys,” he had urged her yet again just that morning as
their room was being packed. She’d been getting dressed, carefully buckling her brace on
her leg before standing up and pulling on her gloves.

“I don’t want to,” she answered shortly, yanking at the leather in

irritation.

“He’s the only man le alive who knew you as a baby,” Jon cajoled her gently, tugging on his
boots.

She turned her back to him, trying to make her point. “He held me for a day, my rst day, and
then he was no longer in my life. That hardly qualies as knowing me in any sense at all. Please
stop trying to appeal to my sympathies,” she answered smoothly.

She heard Jon heave a heavy sigh behind her. “His grief for Rhaegar took him to Essos. He

couldn’t bear to be in a land without a Targaryen in it. The Golden Company . . .”

“A Blackfyre, a legitimized bastard Targaryen, founded the Golden Company,” she pointed out,
interrupting him. “I know that already.”

“They were coming for you, hoping to meet you in Volantis,” Jon reminded her gently.

“Too little, too late. I trust none of them,” she answered dismissively. “Where were they when
Drogo died and I nearly did, crossing the Red Waste? Fighting my way from Astapor to Yunkai
to Meereen? They had had plenty of time to reach me then, did they not? I mean to keep my
promise that they can stay here in Westeros, providing they don’t prove false, but that’s as far
as my good will extends.”

Jon had stood in front of her then, taking her by the shoulders, ducking his head to look her
in the eyes. “Just . . . will you please speak with him?”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head as she gazed back at him steadily. “I won’t. I’ve said
what I needed to, and I will speak with him no further. There is absolutely no point in it. He
can’t change the past, and I have no pleasure in recounting it. Please don’t ask me again.”

He’d let go of her, but kissed her soundly on the forehead. “All right,” he’d sighed, then followed
her quietly out to the courtyard, their horses already waiting in the mud and rain.

Now, she looked back when she heard Jon laugh as they talked, seeing him shake his head
and smile. Jaime Lannister rode up on Connington’s other side, singing a snippet of some
song that caused Connington to laugh and continue the verse as Jaime rode by. She nudged
her horse forward, riding up next to Tyrion and Ser Jorah.

“They’re growing close, aren’t they?” Ser Jorah asked, looking from Jon back to
Dany.

She shrugged a little. “It’s good,” she answered, hoping she sounded convincing. “Jon
deserves to know more about his father.”

“And you about your brother?” Ser Jorah asked pointedly.

“Everything I needed to know about Rhaegar I learned from Ser Barristan,” she answered
shortly. “He hated ghting, hated the thought of ruling, and would rather sing or read than do
his duty.
He abandoned his wife for a new one, leaving Elia walled in the Red Keep with a
murderous madman who hated her and her children. We’re moving on now to important
matters.” She

turned to look at Tyrion. “What of our prisoners? Have we heard any word from Cersei? Will
she pay their ransom?”

“We’ve heard no word, Your Grace,” Tyrion answered her.

“Would she meet with us, you think?” she asked speculatively. “It’s only just her life now. We
have everything else.”
“I don’t know how much wildre she may have le,” Tyrion cautioned her. “If she has nothing
le to ghtfor, she may let the whole thing go up in ames rather than let you have it.”

“I believe that,” she agreed. “And there are too many lives between Cersei and us. Too many
innocents. What can we give her as a great enough incentive to not burn down the city? I
don’t care about the Red Keep itself; if it burns, it burns. I do not, however, want a single life
harmed that can be spared.”

Tyrion looked back at Jaime, who had ridden up to Brienne and they were deep in
conversation. “I’m not sure I’m the best one to answer that question,” he said slowly.

“Speak to him,” Daenerys said rmly. “We need an answer before we’re delayed.”

Tyrion pulled up his horse and fell in step with his brother, leaving her alone with Ser Jorah. She
looked at him for a long moment, then rode with him in comfortable silence. “We’ve been
doing
this for a fair few years, you and I,” she said quietly.

He nodded, looking at her and smiling a little. “Only now . . . you’re married to someone who
loves you the way you’ve deserved to be loved from the beginning,” he answered. “I’m happy for
you, Your Grace. It’s good to see you smile instead of tremble in fear.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m glad you’re here with me. How does it feel to be
home?”

“Strange, if I am honest,” he began. “Though it satises me to see my niece grown into such a
formidable Lady at such an early age.”

“Would you want to return to Bear Island when this is nished, Ser Jorah?” she asked.

“Not if Your Grace still has need of me in any capacity,” he answered rmly. “I never hoped to
see my ancestral home again, and I rest easy knowing it’s in the hands of Lady Lyanna. There
is nothing for me there beyond memories, and those I carry with me quite easily.”

“Then I would like you to stay on in King’s Landing with us,” she began. She looked back to
Jon, who was riding up through the other lords, looking directly at her, his destination
unmistakable.

Ser Jorah pulled up his horse to let Jon take his place at her side, the correlation in his action not
escaping her notice. She smiled at Jon briey as he joined her before looking ahead, her Dothraki
kos and scouts ahead of them to protect her.

“You’re angry with me,” Jon guessed, reaching his hand out toward her.

“I’m not,” she assured him, reaching back and holding his hand briey before letting it go. “I’m
preoccupied is all.”

“I can understand that,” he answered. They rode in silence for a little while, their lack of words
not uncomfortable. “What happened to you and Viserys aer you le Dragonstone, Daenerys?”
he asked her suddenly, his voice so gentle and loving she had to blink away tears.

“That’s . . . a subject never to be broached again,” she answered shortly, tamping down rmly on
the memories that threatened to ood her mind, brought close to the surface by both Jon’s
questions and Ser Jorah’s presence and comparison to her marriages. “There’s too much to do
and I can’t aord to lose any time or energy dragging all that up. It serves no purpose for me
except nightmares and misery. I’m very happy for you, for nding someone who can give you the
answers you need so much, but please, Jon. I don’t want to relive all that, not even once more.
It’s in the past and I’ve nished with it.” If I look back, I am lost.

“Maybe you should confront it, see if it makes you feel any better?” he asked carefully.

She barked out a short laugh lled with irony, unable to withstand her own emotions that were
getting the better of her. “Says the man who avoided everyone for nearly a month aer his
brother told him who he really is.” She didn’t give him time to answer her, instead kicking her
horse and startling it into a gallop toward a group of her kos, who circled around her with
yips and yells before they settled down to ride together.

For fuck’s sake, Jon thought as he watched her ride away, shaking his head in exasperation
before he paused and grinned. I really ought to know better by now than to argue with her
when she’s pregnant. It was still too early to know for certain, but she’d started becoming
restless and quiet the past week, xated on the battle plans Tyrion brought to her daily. She was
short with her commanders, barely had time for anything more than to plan, eat, and sleep.
Jon had started spending more and more time with Connington to satisfy his questions about
Rhaegar, to know more about his past from someone who had witnessed most of it rsthand
and to give Dany room to do as she felt she needed.

Jon felt more connected to his parents, understood them better, and had managed to untangle
the mess in his mind, the rumors and the truth, the lies and the facts. He had been born a
child conceived in love, whilst Dany had been born of rape and violence. That had hurt him
deeply, knowing that about his Targaryen grandparents. His grandmother Rhaella had loved
every child that passed through her hands, every subject that came to her with a request.
She’d found love wherever she could, nding none in her own marriage, immersing herself in
duty and doing the best she could. Connington had shaken his head at him with a sad smile
when they spoke of his grandmother. “She would have doted on you, Jon. She would have
taken you and fed you at her own breast alongside Daenerys if she’d known of you, if she had
survived.”

He couldn’t understand how Daenerys could feel the way she did about it all, aloof and
uninterested, not until he allowed himself to really consider her position. She hadn’t gotten
angry with him when he brought it up, not so much angry as impatient and dismissive as she
erected her walls around herself. The only thing he could gure was that she was holding a
grudge against Connington for events in her life in Essos, the little of it that Jon knew was
enough for him to have the beginnings of understanding where she was coming from in that
regard. What happened to you out there in the world, my Love? He wondered if she would
ever tell him.

As the camp rose around him that night, he searched for Daenerys. He rode through the
pavilions, nding his own and hers easily enough, though no sign of her. He sighed, realizing if he
wanted her, he was going to have to make the eort and nd her in the Dothraki camp. He
looked down the rows of tents, numbering in the thousands. He’d be looking for her until dawn
unless he got lucky, so he was going to have to rely on luck. Giving up was unthinkable.
His luck had held out; he’d only ridden past about two hundred of the tents before he saw
her horse tethered outside her tent, unsaddled and eating out of a bucket. Jon dismounted
and

passed o his horse to the squire that had followed him, untying Dany’s horse so she could
wander o aer she’d nished her grain. He tapped lightly on the tent ap. “Daenerys,” he said
quietly. “You in there?”

“I am,” she called back. “It’s open for you.”

He ducked inside. It was already warm and well lit, the bedding laid out on the carpeted
ground and ready for them. His gaze found her seated on the carpet and leaning back on the
table, toying her ngers through the hot coals of the brazier. He watched, fascinated. “That
doesn’t hurt?” he asked as he removed his brigandine and cloak, kicking o his boots to match
her stockinged feet. He tossed his gloves and leather jerkin on top of his cloak, rolling his
shoulders to enjoy the feeling of not being weighed down.

She shook her head. “It never has,” she said quietly. She picked one coal up and held it in her
palm, watching the colors waver from red to yellow to orange before she set it back down
carefully in the middle of the ames. She looked up at him, and he could see the sadness in her
eyes. “Please, Jon. Promise me you’ll let it go on my behalf. I don’t mind you talking and
learning all about it from Connington, I really don’t, but please, keep me out of it.”

Jon let out a heavy sigh of acceptance. “All right,” he said gently. “I promise. Consider the
matter dropped where you’re concerned. I’m sorry you’ve been hurting so.”

“The less I think about it, the happier I am,” she said, tucking her good knee up to her chest
and resting her chin on it, her braced leg stretched out in front of her. She glanced down at her
knee. “Hopefully it won’t be too much longer and I won’t be able to sit like this.”

He nodded, smiling at little at the vision that passed through his mind; Daenerys, with a
rounded belly and face ushed with health, sleeping in their bed at Winterfell. “I’m hoping so
too,” he answered her, nally moving to sit next to her on the carpet. “Any new plans?” he
asked, reaching out and rubbing her tired muscles between her shoulder blades with his thumb
ngers, using his palm to soothe the pain. He could feel how knotted and sore they were. She’d
been worrying about too many things lately.

She shook her head, relaxing into his touch. “We’ve got it covered, I think. The Dothraki at the
gates, blocking all but one as Jaime and Tyrion check every person who passes through. The
Unsullied on the beaches, blocking the passages beneath the Red Keep, working their way up
through the dungeons to seize all her Queensguard. You and I will go in on the dragons and
bring
her out to face her trial and justice. It’s simple, and we have a large enough army to
any resistance. We couldn’t have hoped for better, really.”
overwhelm

He watched as her hand dipped back into the coals, twirling her ngertips around them like
anyone else would do with a pool of water. “I suppose not,” he answered, seeing her nod
in agreement with their unspoken losses.

“In every battle, there are losses,” she whispered, closing her eyes and sighing heavily as
her head fell forward and her hands dried to the carpet below. “That feels wonderful.”

“Come over here and I’ll be able to use both hands,” he suggested. “You’re awfully
tense.”

She did as he asked, bringing herself to sit between his knees, moaning out as he dug his
thumbs into her back. “Don’t you ever get like this?” she asked.

“Not since they brought me back from the dead,” he answered her honestly. “My sword
arm once in a while, but not like you are right now.”

She nodded, bending her head forward as he rubbed his palms over her in an attempt
to comfort her. “I regret having Missandei stay in Winterfell,” she whispered. “I miss
her.”

Jon nodded, then leaned forward as he wrapped his arms around her, surrounding her with
his body as he held her. She missed her friend. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing her on the
shoulder. He could feel the beginnings of arousal stirring within his body from her sounds of
pleasure as he’d rubbed her back, from the close proximity of her body tucked into his.
riding a dragon help you feel
better?”

“Drogon and Rhaegal are probably already . . . oh Jon,” she laughed, turning around and
giving him a light kiss on the cheek. “Would it hurt you terribly if I just wanted to eat and
then go to sleep?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t even begin to feel disappointed; she was tired and it wouldn’t
be enjoyable for her. “Wouldn’t hurt me at all, Love,” he answered. “You feel all right?”

She leaned against him, cuddled up in his arms as she shied her weight from her rear to one
hip on the carpeted ground. She tucked one arm around his waist, holding onto him. “I’m
tired,” she admitted. “All the way into my bones, I’m tired. I want to just crawl in bed and
sleep for days.”

“You think we were successful?” he asked gently, resting his chin on her
head.

“Well, we’ll know for certain if I don’t start bleeding, I suppose,” she answered, turning
slightly so her nose was pressed to Jon’s chest. She inhaled and let out a long, heavy sigh as
she rested her head back against him again. “You smell nice.”

He laughed. “Like sweat and horses?” he

asked.

“No,” she hued out in a laugh. “Like you. I smell soap from our bath yesterday, your clothes . . .
 just your smell.”

Yeah, we did it, she’s pregnant. She’s going from cranky to clinging and needy, now she’s sning
me. He smiled and pressed his nose to her hair before he kissed her again. “I’ll go out and get
something for us to eat. You stay here and curl up on the bed. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he
promised. “I’ll wake you if you fall asleep.”
Daenerys stood on the ground next to Drogon, staring over at Sow’s Horn on an opposite
slope. “Targaryen loyalists, who answer to Targaryen loyalists,” Tyrion pointed out helpfully
from his
horse. “Would you like to speak to Lord Hogg before we pass by?”

She wordlessly handed him a folded parchment sealed with the Targaryen sigil. “Invitation to
court aer I take King’s Landing,” she said tiredly. “We’ll sort it out later.” She rubbed her eyes
with one hand as Tyrion reached out and took the paper from her.

Tyrion looked at her, concerned. “Are you all right, Your Grace?” he asked. She could tell from his
tone he was genuinely worried, not shing for information.

“I am,” she answered. “I promise.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he

asked.

“I need a real bed and a hot bath,” she answered, laughing a little before she turned
serious. “And about two days worth of sleep, I think.”

“It’s only a day more.” His attempt to reassure her fell atter than he’d hoped. “Perhaps if you
and His Grace would sleep somewhere other than in the middle of the Dothraki camp . . .”
he began, but she began to laugh again and shook her head.

“Anywhere else is too quiet and not as well protected,” she answered, looking back over the
gentle slope to Sow’s Horn. “Any assassins attempting to locate us in there would not survive
to set eyes on us, and you must admit, the closer to King’s Landing we get, the more likely
Cersei will send someone who desires gold enough they will make some sort of attempt on
my life or Jon’s.”

Tyrion nodded, then turned his horse to ride back toward the resting army. She followed him
and mounted her own horse, riding back to join Jon and the rest of the party, nodding only
once toward Connington as he removed himself from Jon’s side so she could take her place
her husband.

“Not much further now,” she said. “Tomorrow will nd us where we need to be.”

She looked to Grey Worm, who stepped forward. “We will not stop tonight, my Queen,” he said.
“We will be in position by morning.”

“If you don’t stop tonight, then neither do I,” she

answered.

“She may have already le the capital,” Jaime pointed out.

“Maybe,” Daenerys answered. “Where would she go? She couldn’t go to Casterly Rock,
could she? If she’s going to ee, she ought to already be on a ship to the Free Cities.”

“Euron’s eet is in Blackwater Bay, waiting for us to arrive,” Tyrion said, waving a raven’s scroll at
her. “Which tells me that she’s still there, waiting to see the last part of her army kill o as many
of us as they can before she destroys whatever is le of the city.”

Daenerys looked at Jon. “We need to do something about all those ships,” she said mildly.
“I’m certain there are a few cold sailors waiting for a bonre or two.”

“We nd Theon and Yara and their men rst,” he cautioned her.

“Euron already turned Yara over to Cersei,” Dany answered. “If Theon and Yara and her men are
anywhere nearby, they’re still in the Red Keep. If not, they’ve already escaped the city or are
dead. We can’t aord to wait, Jon.” She dismounted her horse and looped the reins over the
pommel of her saddle and slapped the mare on the rump, sending her o to join the rest of the
Dothraki horses. “Let’s go.”

“They’re waiting for us,” Jon protested. “What if they have another one of those
crossbows on board?”

She turned to look at him. “They’d be fools to not have one, and we’d be fools to think they
don’t,” she answered. “Should we wait and let them attack our men on the shore? Should we
allow Euron to kill innocent people when he lays siege to the city aer we take it from Cersei?
If you have another suggestion, Jon, I’m more than happy to hear it.” She looked around to
the

other men. “Anyone?” No one could meet her eyes, and she knew it was because she was
right.

“It feels more like bait,” he protested, dismounting from his horse, too. “ They’re trying to
lure you and Drogon out there to burn ships.”

“I know that,” Daenerys answered him, trying to be patient as they walked o to the side of their
council. “The whole thing smells bad, I know . . . but what else am I supposed to do?”

Jon sighed and looked toward the South. “We could stay away from that side and just take
the city from the West,” he suggested. “We go in and get Cersei rst, then deal with Euron.”

“Jaime says that Cersei promised to marry Euron in return for his ships and fealty,” she said
slowly. “If we take Cersei alive, we may have a chance to force his hand, but this will be all for
nothing if she escapes out the passageways to the harbor.” She looked toward the riders
passing by them, locking eyes with Arya and giving her a nod.

Arya rode up with a grin on her face. “Yes?” she

asked.

“Yes,” Dany answered.

“Whatever it is, I’m saying no,” Jon said rmly, looking from Dany to Arya. “I don’t even care
what it is, the answer is no.”
 The Queen in the North has already given me my orders, Arya answered smoothly. My Queen

has spoken, Your Grace.” She bowed to Jon, smiling.

Jon made an angry, frustrated sound as Drogon and Rhaegal touched down on the grass not
far from them, sending horses eeing and riders yelling at the dragons. “Arya, no,” he yelled,
watching Arya mount Drogon behind Daenerys, watched as they le the ground before he
climbed up on Rhaegal. “Follow them, my lad,” he said quietly. “And pray that they’re not going

to the harbor.”

Tangent Chapter 18

Rhaegal kept pace with Drogon easily enough, though it irked Jon to see Arya look back
and wave at him, a tiny speck on Drogon’s back behind Daenerys. Where are you two
going?
Irritated that Daenerys had kept him out of whatever plans she’d made with Arya, he looked
ahead in dread as they approached King’s Landing. Drogon veered West, away from the harbor
and passing over what had to be the King’s Road; Jon’s memory of the map they’d last
examined that morning would concur.

His gut sank as they ewdirectly over the walls of King’s Landing. He passed over the dragon pit,
Rhaegal climbing steeply to follow Drogon directly up to the at and cobbled courtyard of the
Red Keep, near where the Tower of the Hand used to be. Drogon moved to give Rhaegal room
to land, and Jon was o him and chasing his sister nearly before Rhaegal could touch the
ground.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded.

“Satisfying your sister’s wishes,” she answered, coming to stand next to him. “She is capable of
handling herself, Jon, but I suggest an extra sword to guard her back. Go,” she urged. “I’ll be
along in a moment.” She pulled out a slim dagger and smiled at him. “The maker of Needle
was good enough to make me my own.”

Jon shook his head and cursed under his breath, torn. Arya could handle herself in a ght, but
she was alone and ghting an unknown number. Daenerys was with the dragons, well protected,
but pregnant and no talent with a blade. “Go,” she urged again, and his feet began to move
toward the door.

He unsheathed Longclaw, tossing the scabbard at Dany’s feet. He pointed his nger at her,
furious. “You stay here with Drogon,” he said. “If they shoot at you, leave. Of all the fucking fool
things to have done . . .” He could hear the sounds of men dying, no time le to yell at his
wife, so he ducked through the open door and ran down the short steps. He yanked his cloak
o,leaving it in the corridor, and followed the sounds of his sister’s laughter and the clashing of
steel. She’s enjoying this.

Following the sounds, he heard running feet coming from the opposite direction of the
hallway that had crossed into a ‘T’. He pressed himself up against the red stone, holding his
breath,
 jumping out in front of the guards when they were nearly upon him, wasting no time in pressing
them back the way they came, Longclaw easily cutting through the leather, the castle forged
armor no match for Valyrian steel. Once dealt with, he easily shut the oak door they’d come
from and dragged the bodies to act as a blockade against it before starting out for Arya again,
ignoring the blood on his blade, rounding the corner and seeing her as she fought o the guards.
He counted four, but their number quickly dwindled to none as he watched his little sister ght.

“You’ve le me nothin’ to do,” he said, leaning against the doorframe with a
grin.

“You’re the one who wanted to tag along,” she laughed, catching her breath. “Thanks
though, Jon. Looks like you found at least one to deal with.” She looked down at Longclaw.
that sword properly, shall we?”

He nodded, wiping the blood o Longclaw onto his pants. “So, what are your orders, Arya
Stark?” he asked, running the steel against the cloth of his pants.

She pulled out the catspaw blade and twirled it on a nger before sheathing it at her hip. “Cersei
is on my list. I’m going to remove her from it, and I’m fairly certain I’m going to do it with her
own blade.”

“What about a fair trial and justice?” Jon

demanded.

“This is Northern justice, Jon,” she answered, brushing past him. “Back this way.”

He followed her out, looking around the passageways, glancing out the open air windows as
he hurried to keep up with her. “And to think, you’ll be calling this home,” she called back to
him.

He heard running feet behind him, and turned to ght but instantly lowering his sword at seeing
Daenerys, wide eyed and panting. “Get back out there,” he growled at her. “It’s not safe in here.”

“Not safe out there, either,” she answered, looking down at the dead men on the oor and
shuddering slightly. “I’ve sent them o until we need them.”

“Stay behind me, then,” he ordered, halfway impressed that she did exactly as he told her
as they ran to catch up to Arya.

She stood in the open doorway, leaning against the frame, Needle lowered. When Jon
reached her side, she turned back to face him. “She’s not here.”
“We need to get out of here, then,” Jon
hissed.

Arya shook her head. “She may have gone from the towers to Maegor’s Holdfast. It’s
much

better protected than here.”

She turned to move past Jon, but he grabbed her by the arm. “Better protected means
more

guards,” he told her. “We’ve got Daenerys here, she can’t ght and I can’t have your back if I
need to protect her, too. I can’t do both.”

“Fine,” she answered, shrugging him o. “You make too much noise, anyway. Stay here, kill some
time, make some babies or something, and I’ll see you aer.” She winked at him before
sprinting o.

“Fuck!” he yelled in frustration, kicking the door. He looked over at Daenerys, who had moved
to the window to see the world below, her arms crossed defensively. He could tell she was
preparing to defend herself from him should he turn his anger toward her. He took a deep
breath, hoping to get a grip on his nely stretched sanity before he rounded on her. “I had not
intended to ghto guards in close quarters today,” he said nally. “What can you see out there?”

“It appears Drogon and Rhaegal are taking care of the eet without us,” she murmured, glancing
back at him before watching from the window again. “And the Unsullied are just there.” She
pointed toward the North from the harbor. “Another hour or so and they’ll be on the beaches.
Looks like they ran the rest of the way to keep up with us.”

“The Dothraki?” he asked.

“I can’t see from here, but I’d wager they’re on the other side of the Keep,” she whispered,
moving to another open window on the opposite side. “There.” She pointed out the window
toward the swily moving dark horde below, their directions shiing like a ock of birds in ight.
worried for her.”

She nodded, looking around the room. “I am, too, but I’ve also seen her ght, Jon.” She glanced
back toward the window for a moment, watching their dragons.

“Let’s go,” he said forcefully, grabbing her arm and escorting her out. “Stay behind me. We’re
going down into the belly of this . . . thing,” he nished. He hated the smell of it, hated the
look
of it, the red stone doing nothing but remind him of the blood it had cost to build it, the blood
of his sister Rhaenys and brother Aegon, both of whom had been brutally murdered within those
very walls, their grandfather burning men alive and raping his grandmother. He hated
the thought he’d have to live there with all that death.

“You hate it, don’t you?” she asked in a low voice, walking quickly and lightly to keep up
with him.

“Yeah, I do,” he admitted quietly, pulling her back around the corner and checking it
before continuing down the darkened corridor.

“This way,” she whispered, when he pulled up short at an apparent dead end. She walked back
a few paces and pulled open a door, revealing a dark staircase leading down, the sconces
empty and cold.

“How did you know?” he demanded in a whisper,

surprised.

“A very lucky guess,” she answered with a smile, then ducked back behind
him.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, listening for a long moment and hearing nothing. “Get
that blade out,” he told her in a whisper. “I want you armed. Reach back and grab that knife
o my back, too.”
Aer she fumbled around under his cloak and released his knife from its sheath, the blade as
long as her forearm, she held it in her right and the little stiletto blade Mikken had made for
her
in her le. He turned to look at her and grinned. “What?” she whispered. “I’m better with my

right than le, so the heavier blade goes there, right?”

He nodded, then licked his lips before refocusing on the task at hand. Arya had been teaching
Dany how to use a knife in a ght, wanting her better armed if it came down to a ght in close
quarters. He’d oen seen them practicing in the courtyard at Winterfell, Dany serious and quick
despite her brace, Arya laughing as she seemed to dance like a bird in the sky around Dany
as they sparred. When he could get past the anxiety of considering Daenerys being in an
actual
ght, he’d found it very arousing to watch. He fully intended to teach her more if they managed
to live through the day.

He led Dany down the ight of stairs, circling round and round, before he could see relight
ickering from the bottom. He pressed her back against the wall with his arm over her chest. She
sucked in her breath and reached up, moving his arm. He cringed and mouthed an apology to
her, reaching down and caressing her belly gently. He’d forgotten that her breasts were so
tender.

Far away, they could hear steel clashing, and he looked at her, tamping down his conict as best
he could. “Stay here, stay quiet,” he whispered. “I’ll shut the door. Lock it and stay here in the
dark. You’ll have the advantage of surprise if you stay quiet. Protect yourself and our baby.” He
kissed her quickly, shut the door behind him, then began to run toward the ght.

He found Arya in the middle of the guards, ghting with her teeth bared and struggling to keep
up. Jon waded through the middle, cutting down men as he reached his sister, roaring out in
rage and exertion as he closed the gap between them. She spared him a grateful glance, then
dove back into the ght, the dwindled numbers making it much easier to ght back. There was no
time for Jon to admire his sister’s ferocity the way he wanted, keeping his focus on the men at
the end of his sword. He surveyed the room, the only other door letting in light from outside.

Jon battled his way to it, slamming it shut and bolting it from the inside. Arya killed the last
one in the room, and they both bent over to catch their breath. “Bought us a little time,” he
panted out.
Daenerys burst through the other door. “More are coming,” she said, her voice breathy
and panicked.

“Call Drogon,” he commanded her. He pointed to the door he’d just bolted. “Daylight, that way.
Arya!”

He unbolted the door and Arya slipped through before he could walk out, entering a small
courtyard, a map of the entire Seven Kingdoms painted on the stones. Daenerys closed her
eyes, concentrating for just a moment before Drogon was bellowing out above them, charged
from his
ght on the harbor. “Drogon!” she cried out, running to the middle of the courtyard.

“No good,” Jon yelled back. “He can’t get down here.”

Arya looked around. “This way,” she yelled, running down a few steps and through another
hallway, leading out to a garden that was browned and dead. Drogon swooped down and
landed
 just long enough for Daenerys to climb up and mount him. When she reached for Jon’s hand,
Jon gave Drogon a push and sent them o,leaving him and Arya on the ground.

“She’s going to be pissed at you,” Arya said, looking around for a moment, grinning at him.
“This way.”

Jon shrugged, unconcerned. “She is already, and I don’t care. I can’t haul a potentially
pregnant
Queen through a swordght any more than I can ride on your shoulders,” he panted out as they
ran down another ight of steps. “You said to make babies up in that room, but I think we’ve
already done that job. Glad I didn’t need to stay there while you needed me down here.”

“Well, congratulations, you ass,” Arya shot back. “I wish I would have known that! The
plan would have been completely dierent.”

“She didn’t want to tell anyone yet,” he answered, hopping over a low wall and stepping back
Arya could follow him. He grinned at her as he heard the running feet of more guards.
They ducked below the wall to hide. “She thinks it’ll spoil our luck.”

“Let’s hope you just didn’t,” she whispered, smiling at him. “I’m going to be an aunt. Don’t
worry, I won’t tell.”

He nodded, then cocked his head toward the lower hallway. “You rst?” he guessed. “You know
where we’re going. I don’t.”

Arya nodded. “This place is actually smaller than Winterfell,” she whispered. “It’s only through
that entryway and around the corner. Hopefully she’s in there. We can end this and go home for
a bit.”

Home. Winterfell. That was enough motivation for Jon. He glanced over the low wall, but the
guards were gone, so he sprinted where Arya had indicated with her right on his heels. He
slammed her back against the wall, taking a glance around the corner only to nd it abandoned.
He gestured for her to go rst, and she grinned at him before she disappeared around the
corner, silent as a cat. He waited until he saw her hand come around the corner of the red
stone, gesturing to him that it was safe.

“This way,” she said, leading him through a reinforced door and into Maegor’s Holdfast, the
thick walls impressing him nearly as much as repelling him. They reeked of death to him. She
pointed up a staircase. “That way to the king’s chambers,” she said, then pointed the opposite
way. “That way to the Iron Throne. Which way are you going? I’ll take the other.”

“I’ll go that way,” he whispered, pointing toward the Iron Throne. “I want to see this pile of
shit that Daenerys wants to sit her ass on so badly.”

Arya snorted in attempt to quell her laugh. “Fine. We meet back where Drogon picked her
up.”

He nodded, then turned to go. “Yell if you need me,” he said. “I’m serious,
Arya.”
“I will, I swear it,” she promised, then ran up the stone steps soundlessly and out of
sight.

He stalked down the way she’d pointed, and was in the Great Hall nearly before he realized it.
He scanned the room from his position o to the le of the Throne, not a single Queensguard in
sight. He stared at the monstrosity in front of him, blackened steel and hideously gruesome in
shape and size, twisted not only from dragonre, but Jon felt the corruption and madness of the

rulers in years past lent their malevolence to it as well. He curled his lip up in distaste.
Daenerys could sit on it all she wanted, his ass would never touch that seat if he could help it.
He was
suddenly suspicious of his surroundings as he broke his gaze away from the Throne, the pillars
that held the the ceiling were large and there appeared to be a balcony of sorts above him,
likely to hold the court. He looked up, but it was not possible to see up there without giving
his position away. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up; someone was watching him. He
nearly
 jumped out of his skin when Arya laid a hand on his forearm. “The fuck?” he mouthed at her.

She shook her head, jerking her head back the way she’d been. She pointed up the stairs and
gestured for him to follow, so he did, trying to mimic her soundless footsteps. Arya stopped
him
before they reached the top, and she held out both hands, then put up four additional ngers.
Fourteen guards. He nodded, relieved that she hadn’t attempted to take all of them on
herself. Cersei is there. “I’m with you,” he said quietly.

“You’re too late,” a voice called out to them. “The Queen is dead.”

Jon felt his gut drop down and his heart stop for a moment, thinking of Daenerys, before he
realized the guards had meant their Queen. “We’ll kill every single one of you fuckers in here
if you’re lying or try to ght,” he yelled back.

“No one to ghtfor,” another voice called back. “Our Queen is dead.”

Arya looked at him in disappointment before she stepped out from behind the wall. “Drop
your swords, then,” she said, her voice low and deadly. “I want to see for myself.”

Jon stepped up behind her and ourished Longclaw. “Drop your weapons, and I’ll let you live.”
Swords clattered to the oor, and he looked to Arya. “I’m here to protect your back. Go do what
you need to do.”

He watched her step into the room, then heard the sound of a heavy sword being unsheathed.
He looked to the guards, then stepped forward, kicking swords away from them as he
advanced. “GO, more of us are coming,” he yelled at them and watched them run down the
steps to escape the Red Keep, then stepped into the bedchamber as Ser Gregor Clegane swung
his sword at

Arya, who neatly outmaneuvered him, simply trying to evade him until Jon could help her.
Jon stepped behind him, I’ll live it down. Jaime Lannister managed to live it down aer
stabbing a
man in the back, and drove Longclaw through Clegane’s spine, throwing his whole weight
behind the thrust. Clegane’s knees buckled, but he did not fall, simply turning and dragging Jon
with him as he tried to dislodge the sword.

Arya hopped up on the large chest at the foot of the bed, driving Needle through Clegane’s eye
at her rst opportunity as he twisted, the blade getting caught in his helmet as he tried to shake
her o.She grabbed the catspaw from her hip and slit his throat when it was exposed, spilling
black, foul smelling blood. He stumbled and fell, shuddering, Jon still trying to pull Longclaw
free
as The Mountain gave one nal shudder and stopped moving. Jon gagged a little at the smell
before he vomited, the blood dead for so long that the body that held it ought to have been
long
rotten away in the ground or burnt away for years.

Arya moved to the side of the bed, standing on the mattress, looking down at Cersei. Jon nally
was able to yank Longclaw loose by stepping on The Mountain’s back and pulling with all his
strength. He then looked at Arya before glancing down at Cersei, her face grey and purple in
death. He looked over the bedding, at the blood there. “She miscarried,” he guessed quietly,
sighing. “She miscarried and then bled to death, I’ll wager.”

Arya looked from Cersei to Jon. “How do you know that?” she
demanded.

“I don’t know for certain, but I’ve seen a miscarriage before, and that’s what it looks like to
me, though I am no maester to tell for certain,” he said, pointing with Longclaw at the
blood. He looked at the black blood that fouled his blade in disgust. “I’m not wiping that on
my pants,” he grumbled. Clegane’s foul, rotten body must have been the source of the smell
of death Jon had been sensing since their arrival in the Red Keep. He shuddered.
“What do we do now?” she asked, staring at the
mess.

“We . . .” he heaved a little, but managed to choke it back. “We call Rhaegal and get the fuck
out of here,” he said, turning back to the door and leaving the room.

“Jon,” Arya called as she jumped down from the bed, yanked Needle out of Clegane’s eye
socket and caught up with him. “That’s the royal bedchamber back there.”

“Yeah,” he answered. “I know that. I’m trying to put as much distance between us and that
smell as I can.”

“You’re going to be expected to sleep in there,” she pointed

out.

“Fuck that,” he said, shaking his head and starting down the stairs, the guards long gone.
“They can try to clean that shit up all they want, but I’m not sleeping in there.”

“Your baby will be born in that room,” she continued, unperturbed by his determination.
She laughed a little at how fast he was taking the stairs.

“No, it won’t,” he answered so condently that she began to laugh.

They stepped out into the open courtyard. “You seem awfully sure about that,
Jon.”

“I am. Daenerys and I already agreed that any baby of ours would be born in Winterfell,” he
said. “She promised me because that’s what she wants, too. She thinks of Winterfell as home,
of you and Sansa as much a part of her family as I am.”

“She’s my sister, I love her too,” Arya agreed. “Call your dragon. Let’s get out of here.”
“So, that the end of your list?” he
asked.

“Yeah. I removed The Hound. I’ll let him live, I guess. Seven Hells, I’m mad. She died before I
could stare her in the face and watch her die. I’ve been dreaming of that since I saw her on
that platform, watching Father die,” she raged quietly, then cursed and spat on the ground as
she began to pace. Jon watched her in shock for a few moments, then turned his gaze
toward the sky, but no sign of Rhaegal.

He turned his gaze to the water, able to see both sides of the harbor from their vantage point
for a moment, smoke and res on the water, ships sinking. That’s going to be a bitch, clearing
out the harbor. He thought of Rhaegal, calling to him with his mind, concentrating on his
location as he did, grinning when he heard his distinct roar approach. “There you are, lad,” he
whispered. “Come on, get us out of here and back to Daenerys.”

Rhaegal ew over them and circled. “Wow,” Arya laughed. “He’s amazing.”

Jon nodded. “That he is, a thousand times over,” he agreed, smiling up at Rhaegal in
admiration. “I don’t have words for how I feel about him, about them both, really.”

Rhaegal passed overhead a few times, circling. “Down here!” Jon yelled to him. Rhaegal
called back, spotting them and landing on the far end of the dead garden for only a
moment, leaving the ground again nearly before Arya had climbed on. Jon had to grab her
by the back of her

pants and haul her up before she fell.

Once in the air, he understood why. A few ships had evaded the dragonre, and were attacking
the shoreline. Rhaegal dove for the Unsullied to protect them, turning toward the ships before
unleashing his deadly re. Arya yelled in delight as they began climbing in the air, and Jon
asked him silently to take them to Daenerys and Drogon.

Drogon bellowed from above them, turning abruptly as he called out to Rhaegal. Rhaegal le
harbor and ewback toward the Dothraki, to the Northern army beyond, before landing heavily
on the grass and dropping his entire ank. Jon tossed Longclaw o to one side before Rhaegal
unceremoniously tipped them o the other direction, sending them falling to the earth below
before he turned and ewo again, twisting in the air in a dizzying maneuver. Jon knew he

wouldn’t have been able to hold on for that kind of action and was grateful that Rhaegal
had seen to their safety even while in the middle of a ght.

The ground shook beneath their feet, a low rumble making the earth move in tremors as
they looked around, the horses screaming and panicking as a billow of green smoke and
ames
engulfed the lower parts of the city. He saw the Dragon Gate crumble and fall before his eyes,
the Dragon Pit next to it only a cloud of green smoke. Jon began to run toward the massive re,
but Arya dove and grabbed him by the leg, forcing him to the ground. Jon clawed at the grass,
spitting mud and dragging himself forward, unable to do more than keep moving forward.
“Where’s Daenerys?” she yelled, trying to break him out of his single minded mission.

He stopped and looked up, seeing Drogon and Rhaegal nish their task on the far side of the
harbor. Rhaegal came back for him, dropping to the ground. He dragged himself to his feet
and
wiped Longclaw o in the grass before sliding it into the thick leather of his belt and cloak. “Get
to a horse and ride. Find the Northern lords and stay with them.” He spat out the last of the
mud
before mounting Rhaegal. “Come on, let’s go.”

Rhaegal was unafraid of the unnatural ames, ying low enough that Jon could assess the
damage. Flea Bottom was gone, too. All those innocent people. Jon cursed aloud and guided
Rhaegal upward toward the Red Keep once more, searching for Drogon before he spotted him
far West of the city. Without a word, Rhaegal took Jon to Drogon and Daenerys, who was
laying face down on the ground, crying as she grabbed at handfuls of grass.

Panicked, Jon jumped o Rhaegal and ran to her, nding her sobbing uncontrollably. He removed
Longclaw from the bindings so he could get to her easily, kneeling down in front of her and
hauling her up into his arms. “You hurt?” he demanded, checking her body, but she was
shaking her head vehemently while she cried.

“All those people,” she sobbed out, coiling within herself as if she was unable to bear it a
moment longer. Jon gathered her up into his arms and held her as her cries turned to
screams, his heart breaking for her. She was beyond devastated, beyond heartbroken for
didn’t even know. No matter who would insist that his wife was cold hearted, he would
never believe them, not aer seeing her like that.

Hordes of Dothraki and Unsullied were approaching on foot and horseback, rallying to their
Queen. Jon pointed toward the burning city, another rumble seeming to come up from
beneath them in warning. He grabbed Daenerys and hauled her to her feet, forcefully
pushing her up onto Drogon’s side, giving her no choice but to climb onto her giant protector.
He glanced

toward the walls, the Lion Gate in front of them, the King’s Road not far away. He glanced
back toward the harbor, seeing black smoke rising and mingling with the horrifying green as
another
of the res erupted from within the city, nearer the center. He looked up at Daenerys, feeling her
screams of agony in his own heart. Thousands of people were dying.

With an enormous eort, Drogon heaved his great wings and rose from where he was standing,
the houses and tiny elds around him preventing him from a running start. Jon grabbed
Longclaw and secured the greatsword again, then made for Rhaegal. There was nothing to be
done until their army on the ground could get inside the city to bring aid to the fallen and
injured.

Jon looked toward the Unsullied and Dothraki, abandoning his plan to mount Rhaegal, instead
accepting the horse that Lako oered him, mounting the ne animal and riding toward the Lion
Gate. He watched as Drogon took Daenerys over the city before turning toward the riders.
They looked to him and fell behind him as he rode for the gate, hearing Arya yelling for him
and approaching him on a lathered horse that was giving her every ounce of speed it could
muster. “Jon!” she screamed, jumping o the heaving animal and immediately mounting the
fresh Dothraki one when it was brought for her. “Wildre!” she cried, breathless. “Aerys’ wildre .
. . Cersei . . .”

“Is there more, Arya?” Jon asked

urgently.

“I don’t know!” she cried out. “Until she burnt down the Sept, no one thought the wildre was
anything more than a rumor. We can’t know for certain.”

“People are dying in there, Arya!” he yelled back. “Am I supposed to wait out
here?”
“You have to,” she yelled back. “You can’t go in there and get killed. Daenerys . . . You can’t do
that to her, Jon!”

Jon nally pulled up his horse, realizing there was nothing anyone could do but wait. His very
bones ached to get in the city to help, but it was folly. Cersei played them well, even aer her
death. The people le alive would blame Daenerys for the destruction inicted upon them. He
cursed and turned his horse back toward the Dothraki and Arya. “Regroup,” he commanded,
and Lako translated the order with ease, the Dothraki turning and riding North toward the
lords and reserve forces.

Jon kicked his horse into a run to keep up with the rest of the horde, Arya riding next to him.
She pointed skyward and Jon looked up to see both Drogon and Rhaegal following them from
the air, their great wings spread wide as they did little more than glide to keep pace with
them. He looked to the horizon in front of him, seeing their armies coming toward them to
meet in front of the Gate of the Gods. A thick haze was falling upon them from the smoke and
rubble.

He pulled up his horse between the Kingsroad and the Gate of the Gods to wait for the lords
to meet him on the open elds. He dismounted and held his horse as he waited. Lord Glover
was the rst to reach him. “We already sent aid,” he said. “We’ve sent the Lannister army in.”

Jon closed his eyes in horror. Of all the stupid fucking things to have done . . . He took a deep
breath. “You realize they’re already going to blame this on Daenerys?” he demanded. “And
now you’ve sent the Lannister men in there instead of our own for aid?”

Lord Glover realized his mistake, and turned his horse. “Send in the armies from Houses Cerwin,
Glover, Karstark and Mormont!” he bellowed out. “The people of King’s Landing need our
aid!” He turned back to Jon. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I sent in the men I thought we could risk
losing.”

“I know why you did it,” Jon answered grimly. “Had I been outside the walls the entire time,
I may have done the same.”
Drogon and Rhaegal roared out as they landed on the winterized crop elds, Dany walking
through the mud briskly to reach his side. She’d managed to recover from her shock and grief,
though her eyes were still red and sad. He reached out for her, taking her under his arm as she
heaved a sigh. “Forces have already been dispatched,” he told her. “We’ll save everyone that can

be saved, Love.”

He pulled her into his chest to hide her face as she began to cry again. “All those people,”
she cried. “All of them, gone up in re and nothing I could do . . .”

“Cersei’s doing, not yours,” he answered, resting his chin on her head and letting her cry
as though her own life were ending.

Tangent Chapter 19

Daenerys watched from Drogon’s back, ying above as the Unsullied carried water from the
harbor to help put out the res that still raged in the city even aer an entire fortnight. Would
that a dragon could breathe water instead of re when needed. Both Jon and Tyrion had insisted
she stay back from the city for her own safety until they could gauge the temperature of the
people’s reaction to her presence. She’d reluctantly agreed, nding tasks outside the city that
would be helpful despite her overwhelming desire to do as she had done in Meereen; feeding
plague victims and building pyres for the dead and dying with her own hands.
now laid bare from the marching armies and the rain, leaving the elds nothing more than vast
expanses of mud. She wondered if the seed stores in Highgarden were raided as well as their
gold. Ser Jaime would know – she would ask him before he and Tyrion le for Casterly Rock
that evening to bury their sister.

Dany had been wildly unprepared for Tyrion’s reaction to seeing his sister’s body when she had
been brought out from the Red Keep, already bathed and dressed, wrapped for her nal journey
home. She felt inadequate at best in consoling her Hand, even Ser Jaime had been unable to
oer anything more than hollow words of comfort to his little brother. Tyrion had loved his sister
even when she’d made it cruelly clear that she’d hated him. He’d loved her still, even aer all
she’d done to hurt him. Daenerys nearly envied him his love, unreturned though it was,
thinking of how she’d only felt relief when Drogo killed Viserys.

She looked down at the pavilions on the tourney grounds, the Silent Sisters attending to the
dead and wounded there. The Dothraki women had swarmed in, giving aid and weaving
bandages out of linen when it was available, grass when it was not, their great cooking res set
up to feed the thousands of homeless who now relied completely on the invading armies for
food and shelter from the cold and wet rain. Homes outside the city had taken in some of the
refugees, large tents set up outside the borders took care of the rest. They looked small from
so high above.

On the North side of the city, near where the Dragon Pit used to be, the Northern armies had
set up their own camps, the Dothraki surrounding it with their seemingly endless tents, a sight
most welcome aer so much loss. Daenerys was looking forward to the day’s end when she
could disappear into the labyrinth of tents and retire in her own, just her and Jon while the rest
of the world continued on without them. She was even eager for the promise of jokes and
stories in front of any of the res as they ate and made merry before retiring to bed.

Dany closed her eyes at the slight feeling of nausea that overcame her and smiled. Hello
there, little dragon. I’m glad you’re here. She’d never thought she would be so glad to feel
sick. “Drogon,” she whispered. “I need to walk for a bit. I need Jon. Where is Jon?”

Drogon hovered in the air for a long moment, then silently glided them down to the ground,
not far from the Northern camp. Rhaegal called Drogon from above, so Dany quickly
dismounted so Drogon could rejoin his brother.
Arya came riding up to her, leading another horse. “They’ve been waiting for you,” she
greeted. “Jon’s nally got back from working in the city, and he’s waiting in Lord Umber’s tent.
They’re

gathering to discuss what’s to be done next.”

“Is Connington there?” Dany asked, then hated herself for feeling so petty. She looked o toward
King’s Landing so Arya couldn’t see her face; her words so beneath her that she felt ashamed
for having said them.

“He’s already le. Ser Davos and Jon spoke with him a few days ago about how you felt about
all this, so he’s giving you some more room. He loved your brother and I think he’d hoped he
could love you at some point, too,” Arya said wistfully.

“He loved my brother a far sight more than I did, or ever will,” Daenerys answered shortly,
mounting her horse. She gestured toward the still smoking, burning city. “If Rhaegar had
done his duty, none of this mess, all this death, none of it would have happened.”

“Cersei is to blame, too,” Arya reminded her. “Lord Tywin, the Freys, the Cleganes,
your father . . . It doesn’t all rest on Rhaegar’s shoulders, you know.”

Daenerys bit her lip. “Cersei wouldn’t have been in such a place of power if Rhaegar
hadn’t . . .”

“Jon wouldn’t be here, either, ‘if Rhaegar had done his duty,’ you know,” Arya interrupted her
staunchly, quoting Dany’s words back to her. “And you can’t tell me you wish he hadn’t been
born. You could maybe make the words, but you and I both know better. What if you hadn’t
loved the Martell Aegon? You’d still have been forced to marry him, especially if Aerys had
still been alive.”

“I have already been forced to marry. Twice,” Dany pointed out. “I even came to love one of
them aer a fashion.”
Arya stopped her horse. “Really?” she demanded.

Dany nodded, nudging her horse to keep walking despite its companion’s halt. “Once to
Khal Drogo when I was thirteen, used as payment for an army Viserys was never going to
get, and then once to Hizdahr zo Loraq of Meereen to keep the peace in the city.”

“And Jon?” Arya pressed, kicking her horse to walk next to

Dany’s.

Dany melted at that. “It made sense from a political standpoint,” she began, but seeing
Arya’s look she spoke quickly. “But I’m glad there was such a convenient excuse to marry
the man I admire and love.”

“There you are, then,” Ayra answered with a tone of nality. “I told Jon, back when he was
having his t about being Rhaegar’s son . . . I told him that the both of you were made of the
same cloth. You were made for each other. Everything happened the way it did and there’s no
changing it. Hating dead men won’t make anything better for those le behind.”

“Arya Stark, would you like to be the new Hand of the Queen?” Dany jested. “It seems
like sometimes you’re the only one who talks sense anymore.”

“Oh hah. No. No thank you,” Arya answered with a laugh. “I’ve got a life to live, and from what
I’ve seen and heard, the lives of Hands are dismally short. Congratulations, by the way. Jon’s
told me.”

She cringed. “He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” she exclaimed indignantly.

“We argued in the Red Keep about how to handle the guards. He told me that he couldn’t
watch my back and protect his pregnant wife at the same time. That was right before he
shoved you back on Drogon,” Arya explained. “I swear it, I haven’t told anyone, though aer all
this maybe some good news would be helpful?”
“Maybe,” Dany agreed. “I’d like to wait just a few more weeks, though. Jon and I . . . there’s not
much privacy in our lives, and it ’s going to get even worse in the coming months. I’d like to
keep

it between the two of us for as long as we can, just something all our
own.”

“He says you want to go back to Winterfell to have the baby,” Arya said quietly, aware they were
nearly within earshot of other people. “Would you rather have Sansa and I come to stay for a
bit at the Red Keep instead? A little of home without having to travel so far away? Our mum
could barely climb four steps the last few weeks before Rickon was born, I can’t imagine riding
Drogon so far.” She paused for a moment. “I’m not burdened with politics, but . . . what would
do the
most good for your, ah, position with the people here in King’s Landing?”

Dany shook her head. “My ties to the North are more important,” she whispered. “I mean to
rule all Seven Kingdoms. I mean to do what’s right and fair, but I can’t deny Jon his desire to
have his children born in the North, Arya. It’s too dear to him and I don’t think he’s ever truly
asked anyone for anything he wanted. I want for him to have this one thing that means so
much to
him.”

Arya nodded, quiet. “I think that’s much more romantic than any vows you could have spoken
to him in the godswood,” she said nally, dismounting her horse and waiting for Daenerys to do
the same. She reached out and took Dany’s hand. “Good luck in there,” she said quietly, then
hugged her impulsively. “It’s all going to work out. I don’t know how yet, but I really think it
will.”

Jon looked down at the red stone oor beneath his feet. Missandei had scattered the dried
purple owers that Daenerys loved so much amongst the rushes that littered the oor, bringing a
freshness to the air when trod upon. The scent reminded him of their rooms back in Winterfell,
the grassy and clean aroma that had begun to cling to everything, from the linens of their bed to
the furnishings and heavy drapes now starting to do the same in the Red Keep, making it nearly
tolerable for him.

He stood out of the way as a group of attendants carried a newly made mattress past him,
heading to the bedchambers in Maegor’s Holdfast; Jon nally setting his eyes on the new bed
he’d share with Dany that night, their rst night inside the Red Keep, their tent no longer
before and there seemed to be no lasting reminders detectable by either sight or smell, to his
great relief. He followed the group to the royal bedchamber, watching quietly from a corner
as they maneuvered the impressively sized bedding into place, covering it with linens before
using the blankets and cushions that had come with Daenerys from Essos along with furs and
drapery

from Winterfell. He stood aside as another attendant came in with a long roll of heavy
fabric, shaking it out with the aid of two others, exposing a tapestry.

Stepping closer, he inspected it quietly, inhaling a quick breath as he realized what he was
seeing. It was Aegon the Conquerer and Balerion the Dread, mounted high upon one of
the
towers of Harrenhal. The parallels were not lost upon Jon, and he knew precisely why Daenerys
would have chosen that one for their bedroom. He nodded in approval and le the room,
letting them get on with it.

It was only a short walk from the bedchambers to the Iron Throne, where Daenerys was
moving around the room, speaking to the last of the Northern Lords before their departure
back to the North. Jon sped his pace, reaching her side and reaching out to clasp hands with
Lord and Lady Glover, wishing them a safe journey back to Deepwood Motte.

Daenerys stepped aside with Lady Glover and the two smiled conspiratorially toward their
husbands, but bade each other farewell warmly with nothing else said. Jon knew better than to
ask; there was plenty of time for that later. He took in a deep breath and let it out contentedly,
watching Daenerys move around the throne room, smiling and not withholding either her well
wishes or her thanks for the aid the North had given in the battle. He began to do the same as
he made his way to the end of the room, exiting and standing out on the steps as he looked
down at King’s Landing spread below him.

The scorched ground that once was Flea Bottom and that stretched to the Dragon Pit was lled
with workers still struggling to remove rubble, laying stone and brick, and carrying timbers
and water for mortar to rebuild the area from the previously nonexistent sewers and reeking
cobblestones to community wells and small gardens alongside houses. He’d dismounted his
horse on countless occasions to help li and move rubble, sometimes to help bring water and
food to the masons and laborers as they toiled.

Aer a particularly heated and lengthy session of lovemaking late one night in their tent, she
prosperous with olive trees and fruit. She had fully intended to stay and watch her saplings
grow, and she had whispered to him that she’d nearly regretted leaving on more than one
occasion.
She knew she’d never get to go back and see her orchards in Meereen, so Jon became
determined to give her new ones, new fruit that she would live to see bear food and
prosperity

for her people.

He found he enjoyed the planning and riding through the slowly rebuilt streets to oversee the
progress, and enjoyed it even more when she rode by his side, helping wherever she could,
asking the builders questions and greeting the families who would live in the homes being
built. He’d watched with great satisfaction as she’d held the apricot sapling’s slender trunk in
place while the roots were carefully covered and tamped down into the ground in the newly
constructed garden between streets. She’d spent the entire day that way, moving from one
unnished garden plot to the next, pears and apples and apricots, along with a special gi – a
small grove of peach trees sent from the Reach with the kindest regards from Horn Hill,
Samwell Tarly’s mother and sister. He’d brought her back to their tent that night, exhausted and
dirty, but he knew he’d ever seen her so peacefully content.

Riders were approaching from the harbor, shaking Jon from his pleasant thoughts, so he turned
and went back to the throne room, seeing Daenerys seated on the Iron Throne. He couldn’t
help
the smile on his face. She belonged there, more than anyone else ever had. It was the ugliest
throne in Westeros, but . . . it wasn’t nearly as hideous as it had been the rst time he’d seen it,
empty and cold, blackened with malice and greed. It shone now with a little more light, a
little more silver and a lot less black, nearly as though it knew better days were upon them all.

“Riders are coming, Your Grace,” he said as he approached her, kissing her soly on the
temple in greeting. “From the harbor. They’ve traveled a fair ways, I expect.”

Tyrion turned to look at him from his seat o to the side of the Throne, looking up from
the scroll he was reading and setting it aside. “Did you see a ship?”

“I didn’t notice any particular one,” he answered. “There’s a fair few out there, clearing
the harbor.” Indeed, the harbor was lled with dredging sailors pulling up wreckage to clear
the harbor for trade.
She nodded, sitting forward slightly, shiing her position on the Throne. “I suppose we should
prepare for nearly anything, then.”

He stood next to her and laid a gentle hand on her warm shoulder. “I’m
here.”

Her hand nding his and squeezing it tightly where it rested on her shoulder felt wonderful.
“Thank you.”

Small sounds of greeting went up amongst the Dothraki guards who stood at the great
doorway, making Jon even more curious about the unknown guests, a small group of men in
exotic silk robes carrying small chests, one on each side, unburdened with the weight. He
heard Tyrion curse soly under his breath, so Jon turned his attention to his wife, watching
Daenerys carefully as her face tensed and a hard line formed at her jaw as a man stepped
forward, a man with wild blue hair and a three pronged beard glittering with gold rings,
carrying a small chest all on his own. Jon watched as the man knelt down at Dany’s feet,
settling the chest down on the stone steps in front of her carefully. “Your Grace,” he whispered,
glancing up to look at her.

“What brings you all this way to King’s Landing, Daario Naharis?” she asked, her voice low and
so. Jon tensed next to her, knowing of Daario and the position he’d held in Dany’s court and
bed while she ruled in Meereen. He had no concern for any former lovers, though. Daenerys
was his wife, pregnant with his child. Tyrion came to stand next to Jon, but Jon glanced at him
in reassurance and shrugged his shoulders as inconspicuously as he could manage. There was
no need for either of them to be rued by Daario’s temporary presence.

“A gi,” he answered, looking from Daenerys to Jon, then letting his gaze fall on Tyrion for a
moment in recognition before he looked back to Dany. “A gi beyond compare. I nearly stumbled
upon it in the cisterns, and knew immediately that no mere raven that I could send to you
would suce. I searched and searched, and have found . . .” He cut o his own words, and lied
the lid of the trunk, carefully untucking the thick purple silk from around the precious cargo
within. A glittering opalescent egg shone from within the depths. Daenerys was out of her seat
and kneeling on the oor in front of Daario in barely the blink of an eye. “When? How?” she
cried. Jon could hear the tears in her voice, threatening to fall, but he held himself back. She
was all right, and he’d let her be unless Daario tried anything . . . untoward.
She turned back to look at him. “Jon,” she called soly. “They’re dragon eggs. One of the
three . .
. ” her voice trailed o,the heaviness of her realization hitting her. “Viserion,” she whispered,
bowing her head for a moment. Jon went to her side and lied her to her feet, holding her
closely in an attempt to comfort her in her still-present grief. “Daario Naharis, this is my
husband

and King, Jon Snow,” she said, introducing the two men from the depths of Jon’s chest. The
two men nodded to each other and Daario bowed respectfully, though Jon noted that Daario
looked more than a little disappointed.

“How many?” Jon asked, taking the precious dragon egg from Dany and cradling it in his arm
as lovingly as he would his own child. Viserion’s child. Jon briey wondered if dragons were
aectionate to their young before he considered how they were with their mother and he was
no longer concerned.

“There are four, Your Grace,” Daario answered, backing up to stand. Jon felt Dany jerk in his arms
in surprise, pulling away from Jon to have a look at the eggs. Daario gestured for the other
trunks to be brought forward, pleased with her response. “We packed them all separately to
ensure their safety on the rough seas.” One by one the lids were opened and the silks pushed
aside to reveal the eggs; a dark blue, a golden yellow, and a lavender that matched Dany’s eyes.

Jon couldn’t help it, the urge to assert his position more than he could quell. “It looks like our
family is going to grow even more, Love,” he whispered to her, kissing her soly on the lips as
his hand wandered down to the slight swell of her belly. He peripherally caught the look of
despair on Daario’s face and felt guilty for a moment, but was pleased that Daario had
received Jon’s message that Daenerys was no longer attainable loud and clear. He looked up
from Dany’s face and spoke directly to the man. “We thank you for the gi, and we thank the
people of Meereen for returning such precious property to the rightful owner,” he said warmly.
He looked back down to Daenerys and smiled at her, letting all his love shine through his eyes.

“May all of your sons grow to become dragon riders,” Daario said to Dany. Jon watched him raise
a hand tentatively for just a moment before Tyrion stepped forward slightly; he thought better
of it and lowered it again. “Meereen misses their Queen, and eagerly hopes to be honored with
a visit some time in the future, Your Grace.”

“Will you stay in the city for long?” Tyrion asked him, his tone calm and businesslike. “There
are
several brothels worth a visit if you re interested in staying a few nights.

“I thank you, Lord Tyrion, but no,” he answered, relieved to be looking away from Jon and Dany.
“The Second Sons are waiting for their orders, and the winds are favorable for a swi and safe

return. I will not stay.”

Dany’s head came to rest against Jon’s chest again. “Then it is farewell again, Daario Naharis
of the Second Sons,” she replied calmly, though Jon could feel a sense of loss and sadness
about her words.

“Farewell, my Queen,” Daario answered, bowing and then backing away slowly before
turning and leaving the room, his silk adorned escorts following close behind.

Jon and Daenerys stood on the top of the dais and stared down at the chests neatly aligned
with the top step in front of the Throne. She leaned down and gently scooped up the dark
blue egg and passed it to Jon, then cradled the gold and the lavender in her arms. “Let’s move
them back to our room,” she said quietly. “It’s well guarded there, and we can talk about this,”
she looked at the guards and the few members of court who had been watching from the
balcony above. “In private.”

He followed Dany out of the room and up the steps toward their bedchambers, discovering he
enjoyed the warm weight of the eggs, one in each arm. Dragon’s eggs, in his arms. He was
carrying dragon eggs. He smiled at the thought of telling his younger self of the wonders that
were in store for him when he grew to be a man. You’ll be a dragon rider, Jon. You’ll marry the
most beautiful woman in the world, have children with her, hold dragon’s eggs and rebuild
cities; you’ll change thousands of lives for the better, Jon.

Once inside their locked and bolted bedroom, Dany settled her two eggs down on the bed and
reached for the blue one. “It looks much more comfortable in here now, doesn’t it?” she
asked, glancing at Jon to see his expression about their new quarters.

Jon nodded at her question, taking inventory of the room before glancing at Dany for a
moment, then let his gaze rest onto the great opalescent egg that was still cradled snugly in
his arm. “Viserion laid them . . . you think?” he
asked.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Though it makes me want to go immediately to Dragonstone

and search for more.”

“He said he found them in a cistern?” Jon

asked.

“Drogon killed a child, or so the sheperds claimed,” she said. “It was several years ago, the
dragons only about half the size they are now. I caught Viserion and Rhaegal, lured them down
to the cistern and I chained them. I locked them away to keep them from killing again, but
Drogon escaped . . . he . . . I’m glad he got away, and the other two . . . I never forgave myself
for that.”

“You did what you thought was right,” Jon pointed out rmly. “No forgiveness is needed for
that.”

“No,” she said. “Though I oen ask it of Rhaegal even now.”

“He holds no grudge, I’m more sure of that than anything else. He loves you,” Jon protested.
“He knows you regret it and he forgave you long ago if he’d ever felt it was needed.”

She nodded sadly, then turned back to the eggs on the bed. She carefully lied the lavender one
again, holding it up and admiring it. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered to the egg. The light
coming from the window behind her made the egg glitter like some great jewel, the light
making it sparkle with the same re that lled Dany’s eyes when she laughed.

“That one’s our daughter’s,” Jon said to her suddenly. He gently settled the great iridescent
egg on the bed next to its siblings before coming to stand behind her, cradling the small lump
in her belly in both his hands.

“Oh, so you think we’re having a girl, then?” she asked, leaning back in his arms, holding
lavender egg so it rested on top of his
hands.

He shrugged and then kissed her ear. “She might not come this time, but . . . maybe the
next time.”

“So you think it’s a boy?” she

asked.

“I have no idea,” he chuckled. “I couldn’t even venture a guess. What do you

think?”

She hummed for a moment, her eyes closed. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I knew nearly
immediately with Rhaego. I knew he was a boy.” She was quiet for a long moment, her
breaths slow and steady. “No, I can’t tell,” she murmured, shaking her head. “It might be too
early to tell.”

He gently rubbed his hands up and down on the bump, smiling. He couldn’t help it; ever since
he
could feel it, he had to touch it, feel their baby growing within her. He eagerly looked forward
to actually feeling the baby move within her, though he knew it would likely be a few months
since
even Dany couldn’t feel any movement yet. The thought of feeling his child move lled him with
both love and lust for Daenerys.

Jon considered his options for making an advance on her, wishing to initiate a bit of intimacy
aer their eventful morning. He settled on moving his hands up to caress her tender breasts
through her clothing, enjoying her sigh of pleasure for a moment before a light knock echoed
through the heavy door, interrupting them. “Your Graces are requested for an audience by Ser
Jon Fossoway,” Tyrion announced from the door between their bedroom and their private front
room. “He wishes to petition Your Graces to legitimize his claim over the care and residence
of Highgarden.”

Daenerys reluctantly pulled out of Jon’s embrace. “Later,” she whispered to him, kissing him
soly on the lips. “I’m coming,” she called, delicately settling the lavender egg down on the
furs of their bed and then she unbolted the door.
“Also, Your Grace . . . ” Tyrion paused for a moment. “Ser Jon Connington of Grin’s Roost would
like to have a private audience with you and His Grace at your earliest convenience.” Jon felt a li
of hope, looking from Tyrion to Dany. Please, Daenerys. Please, Love. Speak to him. You won’t
regret it.

Daenerys sighed heavily. “I can’t avoid this forever, can I?” she groaned. “I had hoped
that restoring him to Grin’s Roost would have been enough . . . ”

“Well, he’s not disappearing as you would have liked or hoped,” Tyrion pointed out as they
walked back to the Throne. “To repeat his earlier words to me today, he has amends to
make and forgiveness to seek and that he’d really rather have it before he goes to his grave.”

She turned to look back at Jon, catching him admiring her backside as she walked in front of
him. He expected some sort of chastisement, but instead she just waited for him to walk by
her side. “He’s getting persistent again,” she sighed. “I don’t suppose I can avoid him forever,
can I?”

“No, you can’t,” Jon agreed comfortably.

“Your friend has become a thorn in my side,” she complained quietly.

“He was my father’s friend, and yours,” Jon corrected her gently, tamping down on the pleased
feeling rising in his chest. “He got you and Viserys out of Dragonstone. If you would have
stayed, you would have been killed.”

“Fine, have him meet us in our small council chambers,” she agreed. She glanced around at
the growing crowd in front of the Iron Throne. “It looks like it will be over dinner to save
time, or I
meet with him there now and Jon . . .”

Jon was already stalking toward the Throne, but came back to her and kissed her soly on
the cheek. “I’ll take care of this,” he whispered. “You go speak with Connington.”
 Will you actually sit? she teased, barely containing her laugh.

Shit. “Might,” he answered saucily. “Or not. Depends on if I get tired of

standing.”

It had the desired eect; she laughed a little, then turned back toward the stairs.

Jon waited until she’d gone, then sat on the Throne for the rst time. It was slightly cold but not
nearly as uncomfortable as it looked. It warmed quickly under him, and he turned his
complete focus onto the line of people in front of him, Tyrion at his side to help him make
judgement on their requests.

“Your Grace, you came alone?” Connington greeted her when she stepped into the small
council
chamber. He came to her and knelt at her feet, taking her hand and kissing it soly
before releasing her, looking up at her and waiting for her to tell him to rise.

“I did,” she answered. “Rise, Ser Jon. Let’s be seated near the re and we’ll talk.”

“I’m in your debt, Your Grace,” he began as soon as she was seated, following suit aer
a moment out of respect. “Thank you for returning Grin’s Roost to me.”

“Your home,” she said simply. “It needed to be restored to its proper owner.”

He looked to the re for a long moment, then sighed. “Where have you been, sweet child?” he
whispered, tears coming to his eyes before he collected himself. “What happened to you aer
you le Dorne?”

“Braavos,” she corrected thinly. Aer so many years of keeping it all quiet and repressed, she
found herself nearly yearning to let it all out, to be free from it. She was uncertain whether

Connington was the right person to burden with it, but . . . telling Jon would break his heart
and she didn’t want him to pity her.

He shook his head. “No,” he answered. “Prince Doran of Dorne took you in, hiding you within
his capital city. Ser Willem Darry took you to Dorne, to Sunspear.”

“I’m fairly certain I was in Braavos, Ser,” she answered him. “The house, I remember it had a
red door and a lemon tree outside my window.”

“Lemon trees cannot grow in Braavos, Your Grace,” he replied gently. “It’s too cold. The Dornish
are famous for their lemons, are they not? Lemons, water gardens . . . safe havens for
children hunted by assassins . . . ”

She stared at him openly, realizing he spoke truly. “What happened to you aer we le
Dragonstone?”

“I stayed and buried your mother,” he answered honestly. “She deserved to be surrounded by
her family and die peacefully in her sleep, but . . . I did what I could. I loved her deeply; never a
more loving or kind woman walked upon this earth before her, and I thought I’d never live to
see the like of her aer, but here you are, a miracle heaped upon a blessing . . . I buried her
with love, then sailed to Essos. I thought if I fought enough, killed enough men, I could
somehow atone for not having been by your brother’s side when he fell under Robert’s
hammer.”

She nodded, then looked back at the re. “I hated him,” she whispered. “Not until Ser Willem
died, of course, but then I hated Rhaegar for putting all of us in the positions he did. I
thought him full of folly, selsh and cruel. I learned more from Ser Barristan Selmy before he
died.”

He nodded slowly. “Ser Barristan knew Rhaegar as well as I did. When did Ser Willem die?”
he asked.
leaving me and Viserys out in the streets . . . we le the city, took a ship to another city . . .

Volantis, I think. Viserys tried to get work as a cabin boy, but he wasn’t good enough, fast
enough. We traveled when we had to, starved and hid when we couldn’t. We were chased
by
wild dogs many times, Viserys once liing me up into a tree to keep me away from their
teeth. We sold Mother’s crown so we could eat for a week, but then it was all gone again.”

She was aware that Connington was staring at her, but she couldn’t bear to look at him,
couldn’t withstand his expression; she’d end up crying and that was something she refused to
allow herself in that moment. Later, she promised herself. “And Viserys? He was good to you?”
he asked, his voice rougher with his tears.

Dany didn’t know how to answer that at rst, but nally she stared at the re and shook her
head slowly. “He’d gone mad by the end,” she whispered. “He sold me to the Dothraki for
their army when I was thirteen. Khal Drogo raped me every night for months until I wanted
to kill myself, though aer I’d thought about it . . . I came to love him eventually.”

“You were but a child,” Connington exclaimed harshly, getting up from his seat and pacing

behind it. “You were still a baby.”

“I had already bled, so I was considered a woman grown to all those men,” she answered
mildly. “Illyrio Mopatis, Viserys, and Khal Drogo. At the time, it seemed the only way to get
home.”

“Where were you when this . . . wedding . . . happened?” he

demanded.

“Pentos,” she answered. She looked up at him when he cursed under his
breath.

He came to kneel in front of her. “My Queen, I ask for forgiveness I do not deserve. I should
not have walked away from your ship aer giving you to Ser Willem. He was an old man when
he took you from my arms. I knew you’d have few years with him, but I was too much a
coward to step forward and take you myself. I should have. I should have seen past my own
broken heart and taken you and Viserys to Dorne myself. I should have . . .”
“We can’t change it,” she said quietly. “Though I do forgive you. My path lead me to Jon and
the Iron Throne where we belong. The rest is in the past and it can stay there without further
thought.” She was quiet for a moment, looking at the weathered face in front of her. She took
a deep, shaking breath, her only real question leaping out of her heart and into her tear lled
voice. “Tell me of my mother, please?”

He took her hands and kissed them. “Your mother’s last word was your name. She put you in
my arms and said your name, and then she was gone. She loved you so much. You resemble
her greatly. When I saw you on the battleeld . . . I laughed a little inside and called her name,
thinking for a moment that I was seeing a ghost.”

“My father had raped her,” Dany whispered. “I had always wanted to know . . .” She choked back
the pain in her chest that was welling up. I will not cry. I will not cry. I just need to know.
“Whether she’d wanted me or not.”

It was Connington’s tears that provoked her own. “She wanted you desperately. When the
midwives told her that you were a girl, she cried and held you and kissed you. She tried to t

years of love into just the few short hours she knew she had le. I swear to you, Your Grace,
you were loved and wanted. Your mother’s only regret was that she wasn’t going to live to
protect
you and love you long enough for you to remember it.”

Daenerys sat back in her chair, squeezing his rough, weather beaten hands in her own. She
nodded slowly, letting out the breath she was holding. “And now her grandchild stirs within
me,” she whispered.

“Would that she were here to love you both,” Connington replied, pulling himself upright
and
standing. He bowed to her. “I will take my leave of King’s Landing and return to Grin’s Roost,
Your Grace,” he said, ignoring his tears. “I am forever yours to call upon should you have any
need of me, great or small. I am your knight.”

“You are a lord now, Lord Connington. Your House in Storm’s End answers to Gendry Baratheon
and his lady wife, Arya. See to it you serve them faithfully, and through them, Jon and I,” she
answered him. “I will hope, however, that when the bells ring for the birth of this child, you
will come and touch Rhaella’s grandchild with the same loving hands you’ve shown me.”
“There’s no greater honor you could possibly give me, Your Grace. I will gladly do as you ask,”
he answered, bowing once more and leaving the room quickly. He closed the door to give her
the room and some privacy.

Daenerys stayed in her chair for a long moment, staring at the re as she let the tears fall. Her
only question about her family had been answered; she’d been wanted and she’d been loved.
Viserys had hated her, blamed her for the troubles of their family, cursing her and telling her
she’d been born too late, she’d never amount to anything other than as his broodmare. He’d hit
her, slapped her, pinched and cursed her; the only family she’d ever known. Her mother had
held her though, and had kissed and loved her and welcomed her with dying arms lled with
regret and the knowledge that they wouldn’t hold her for nearly long enough. Connington said
that Rhaella had tried to make their only hours together full enough to last her for years. She
wondered if the black dragon in her dreams, the one that rose within her in times of duress, she
wondered if it was really her mother that breathed the re into her and brought her back from
wishing for her own death on the Dothraki Sea, pulled her back from death when Rhaego was
born, saved her from the plague sickness before she was picked up by Khal Moro. She liked to
think that it was.

She slowly stood from the chair, though quickly sat back down as the dizziness overcame her. I
feel you, little Dragon, she thought. Let me up, my little love. We’ve got a full day ahead of us
still. She waited a few minutes, then stood again, relieved when it was easier to walk to the
door. She looked back to the replace and smiled through her tears. There was no need to look
back ever again. Connington carried the weight of it all with him now, and Jon’s love was the
only thing that mattered to her heart. The wounds of the past were done bleeding, and now
they could nally heal.

Tangent Chapter 20
Jon lay awake, staring at the high canopy of their bed, the bed of state larger and much more
decorated than the contents of their rooms at Winterfell. Even aer so many months, it was
still taking him time to get adjusted to it all. Some nights, he was so exhausted that he was
able to

fall asleep immediately and not care where he was, but this night he had a lot on his mind. His
eyes dried to the candles burning low in the sand-lled trunk where the dragon eggs were
warmly nestled, their glow reecting o the red stone soly and lling the room with a dim, warm
light. Daenerys had done it all as lovingly as she’d prepared the little bed that now waited
at the far end of the room, a strange mix between Dothraki and Westerosi, the dark wood as
intricately carved and decorated as an arakh handle, lined with furs with a so woolen
blanket
delicately embroidered with the Targaryen sigil in red silk. He smiled down at it before letting
his mind wander back to the thoughts that were keeping him awake.

She’d been quiet for the past week, preoccupied and impatient, and so when they’d come to
bed that night he’d nally asked her outright what she was thinking about. He had not been
prepared for the onslaught of memories and experiences of her childhood that seemed to pour
out of her as she sat on the edge of the bed, holding the lavender egg against her growing belly
as Jon sat in a chair across from her, stunned into silence as she’d broken down and told it all. He

rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together to keep from reaching out
and grabbing her, to prevent him from any attempt at stopping the horric torrent of words
that
were pouring out of her.

He was heartbroken at the thought of his little Daenerys, thin, dirty, and ragged, roaming the
streets of Volantis, digging through street refuse for food, shrinking in fear from her brother’s
violence. Someone had taken them in at one point, she couldn’t recall where or how old she’d
been exactly, but she remembered an older woman with a kind face, remembered being
bathed and dressed and fed with love for at least a little while before her brother had forced
her from her bed one night and dragged her away. Viserys had claimed assassins were aer
them, but

she’d had no way of refuting his claims or refusing his commands.

Her time in Pentos was a little better, fed, clothed, and cared for, and Illyrio had the sense to
post guards at her door to keep even her brother out and away from her during the night,
never leaving her alone during the day. Jon shuddered internally, not able to bear revisiting
Dany’s fear and pain when Khal Drogo had forced his body and will upon hers. He’d barely
managed to keep his thoughts of horror to himself while she told him of it. He remembered
Sansa at thirteen; she’d been a child still, her body only beginning to have a woman’s shape,
The khal had been a man nearly twice Dany’s age, and Jon wondered how the man could have

possibly rationalized the rape and brutality against one so . . . She looked so young and
innocent even as she slept next to Jon at that moment, though she was nearing twenty, and
he didn’t nd
it dicult to imagine how young she must have looked at thirteen.

He reected at Dany’s bravery, how she’d met his eyes that rst night aer they’d wed at
Dragonstone; how she’d trusted him to not violate or hurt her the way she’d been
already,
trusted him with everything she had. He’d reminded himself before he’d knocked at her
that night of her words the rst time they’d met; raped and deled. He’d been glad that even in
door
his highest moments of arousal he’d been acutely aware of her that night and he’d kept his
head,
doing nothing to break that precious trust she’d gied to him, that her rst whispered word of
‘no’ when he moved toward her had made him pause and step back from her, unwilling to
touch her until she permitted him to do so. Gods, that night.

He looked over at Dany, now already well past seven months into her pregnancy. He looked over
to see her face, letting his eyes wander over her beautifully ushed cheeks, her brow furrowed
in a little frown as though she were concentrating. He let his gaze linger for a moment before
indulging in the sight of her breasts peeking through the loose top of her gown; they were
larger,
rm and rounded and oh gods they were warm. They were also tender to the touch, so he could
only cup them soly and lightly kiss them for a few moments before she would carefully
redirect him elsewhere. He looked his l before nally admiring her rounded belly, hidden
beneath her light linen gown but exposed from the furs and blankets to prevent her from
getting too warm. He put his hand on her soly, feeling a urry of kicks and a jumble of elbows
and knees greet him from beneath her gown. He hoped the leap of joy he felt whenever he
touched her would never grow stale.

He grinned, thinking back to the rst time Daenerys had grabbed his hand and pressed it into her
belly, the sensation of their baby moving within her beneath his palm bringing tears to his eyes.
“Can you feel that?” she’d asked, but he’d been unable to answer her, instead he’d fallen to his
knees and cried, pressing kisses to her belly and whispering words of love to their baby as she
stood in their room and laced her ngers through his hair. He’d looked up at her face for a
moment before he grabbed her around the hips and pressed his cheek to her, feeling little
bumps and nudges against his face. “We’ve been waiting for you,” he’d whispered against her
skin. “I can’t wait to hold you and see your face.”

He sighed audibly and shied closer, keeping his hand pressed to their child, who let him know
in no uncertain terms that his hand was a pell to be
attacked.

“You’re still awake,” she sighed next to him, getting his attention. She reached down and took
his hand with her own.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m still trying to process all the things that had happened to you.
I’m glad you told me, I understand so much more now, Love. I get it. I love you.”

“I love you, too, and I’m sorry, that must have been a lot to take in all at once,” she
murmured, reaching up and pushing an errant curl from his face, her ngers lovingly tracing
the silvery scar on his brow.

He grabbed her hand and kissed it soly. “Don’t be sorry,” he whispered, scooting closer to her
so he could kiss her mouth, savoring her lips with his own. Her lips were fuller, too, and so
very so. It’s not possible that I could love you any more than I do right now, Daenerys. Gods,
I hope you know that. “Is there anything else on your mind?”

“I’ve changed my mind,” she whispered. “I want to go with our rst plan, Jon. I want to be in
Winterfell when this baby’s born. I’m glad of Arya and Sansa’s oer to be here with us here in
the Red Keep, but I want to go home. I feel a pull in my heart for home and I can’t ignore it
any more.”

He looked down at her belly. “You’d have to take Drogon instead of traveling overland,” he said
aer a long moment. “And we’d better let Sansa know you’re coming, if she hasn’t le already to
come here.”

“I already did,” she admitted quietly. “I sent the raven over a week ago. I felt guilty, the
thought of leaving you here to handle it all on your own, but I just . . .”

He smiled a little, then rested his hand on her face. “I’ll wrap things up here as quickly as I can,”
he said, kissing her in reassurance. “There’s plenty of help to be had, and I promise to defer
things to the small council. I’ll leave ahead of the court, and that should give you enough time
settle in properly and have some peace and quiet before they all follow us
North.”

“I love you,” she whispered, her sigh sounding a lot like relief. “I just want to go home for this.”

“You want the grand maester to follow you?” he asked.

She sighed, searching for the right words. “The new grand maester has some . . . concerns,”
she whispered soly. “He’d very likely want to travel to Winterfell with the court for the birth,
but I don’t want him. I haven’t permitted him to touch me and I’d rather be in Winterfell for
all that. I don’t trust him, Jon. I don’t want him touching me.”

“What concerns could he have if he hasn’t seen to you properly?” Jon asked, turning back
onto his side to face her, a worried frown on his face. “Has anyone been attending to you
and the baby at all? Why am I only hearing about this now? Daenerys, you ought to have
said. . .”

“I hesitated to say anything because I know how close you were with Maester Luwin,” she
interrupted him. “He wouldn’t say for certain what his concerns are, but I should tell you that
I do not trust the Citadel or any of their elected. Your good friend, Lord Tarly . . . he says that
the maesters have been working to poison the dragons for centuries and that’s why they
started to grow smaller. He wanted to warn me, wanted to protect Rhaegal and Drogon from
harm.”

“That’s completely dierent, Maester Luwin and Winterfell. There were no dragons and no
power in Winterfell as there are here in King’s Landing,” he assured her. “The Grand Maester
is elected by their own private council and they have cause to want the dragons gone. They
challenge the power of the Citadel.” He thought it over carefully, barely noticing the patient
smile on Dany’s face while she waited for him to collect his considerations. “I stand by your
decision; I trust your instincts and Sam’s knowledge. I know a man who loves a certain ock of
little birds that are close to the grand maester, so he’ll be watched closely.” He was quiet for a
moment, thinking. He swept his hand gently over her cheek, brushing her hair back from her
face. “I know next to nothing about your plans surrounding the birth. Is there anything you
need for me to do when I follow you to Winterfell?”
She shook her head slowly. “All I really want is as few people as possible in our room when it’s
time,” she said. She looked like she wanted to say more, and Jon waited for her to continue,
but
she shied uncomfortably and pressed on her side with the palm of her hand. “Someone’s
got their foot in my ribs,” she hued out. “It’s harder to breathe when that happens.”

He put his hands on either side of her belly, holding their baby. “I love you, but you are a brat
and it’s past your bedtime. Go to sleep and leave Mama be,” he said, laughing a little when the
baby kicked and punched back at him. Something about her demeanor gave him pause.
“What’s the matter, Love?”

She looked up from her belly, her lavender eyes locking onto his grey ones. “I’m a little
afraid, Jon. My thoughts run away with me, and I get mired down in fear,” she admitted.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, toying with the curl he’d pushed back for a moment
before tucking it behind her ear.

“Of giving birth,” she claried. “All of it. The pain . . . the risks . . . what if this one dies like
Rhaego did?” she asked. “I was so sick aer Rhaego was gone, my breasts were infected from
all the milk, what if I have none this time because of that? What if I get too tired and the baby
gets stuck and we both die? This baby is already quite a bit bigger than Rhaego was, and . . .”
she trailed o,trying to reach for him.

He got up from the bed and moved to her side, sliding back in and tucking himself behind her
so he could hold her comfortably without her needing to move. He held her tightly. “That’s a
whole lot of worries,” he whispered in her ear. “And I have no answers for any of them. It
sounds like the sooner we get you to Winterfell and settled in, the better. Leave in the morning,
Love.”

It took nearly a full day for her to reach Winterfell, Drogon ying low enough for her to see the
wet, brown elds and the homes with smoke coming out of their chimneys, people in markets
pausing for a moment to look up and watch her as Drogon soared over their heads. Brown elds
gave way to grasslands edged with snow, then snow with patches of grass showing through
before it became a completely white, snow-covered landscape.
no longer could hide the smile on her face when Winterfell loomed over the hills. Her
heart
began to beat faster, the baby within rolling and kicking. You know we’re almost home, don’t
you? Her pulse picked up even more as she let her biggest concern ood the front of her mind.
No time for that now, she chastised herself. We’ll know more by tomorrow.

By the time Drogon was circling above the godswood, she could see people coming out the
front gates to greet her. Drogon swooped down and arched his back, alighting gently onto the
snow
and ice, carefully lowering his shoulder to help her down. “Daenerys!” Arya cried,
through the gathered crowd and running to her side. “Oh holy hells,” she exclaimed, sliding to
bursting
a
stop and staring at her. “May I?” She reached her hand out to touch Dany’s belly.

“Let’s go inside rst,” Dany answered her, shivering slightly. “We’re cold and a bit hungry.”

“Sansa’s scrambling to get everything ready for you,” she said. “She’s so excited she nearly
knocked over her chair when she heard Drogon outside.” She took Dany’s arm rmly to help
walk her slowly through the snow. “It’s been icy. I’d never forgive myself if you slipped and fell

out here.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you and Gendry had already le for Storm’s End? ”
Dany asked through chattering teeth. “Not that I’m not relieved and absolutely happy to see
you, of course.”

“Well . . . we ended up adventuring in the Riverlands instead,” she explained. “And we decided
that waiting another few months before going back to Storm’s End was a better decision. We
just got back here a few days ago.”

“You missed home,” Dany commented atly, side-eyeing her.

“Well, that, too,” she admitted. “Though Storm’s End is beautiful. I like it there.”
at them. “She’s just there,” Arya pointed out, Sansa coming out the door of the Hall, rushing
to

greet Dany as well.

“You look half frozen!” she exclaimed, taking Dany’s hands and squeezing them tightly before

Daenerys moved to hug her. Sansa laughed and moved to Dany’s side so there was room to
embrace. “Come inside and get warm. There’s supper, too. I wasn’t sure when to expect you,
but
. . .” she looked down at Dany’s belly. “I’m glad you didn’t wait any longer!”

“I know, I’m enormous,” Dany groaned. “Jon will be here in a few days. I’m to get properly settled
in before he gets here.”

Sansa helped Dany with her cloak and coat, passing them o to an attendant before turning back
to look at her. “You’re exhausted,” she observed. “Come, let’s eat in my room while we wait for
the res in yours start warming everything up. Should I send for Adara to come see you in the
morning or are you having your maester come to attend you?”

“The less said about the grand maester for now, the better,” she said in a low voice,
following Sansa back to her quarters. “I’d prefer Maester Wolkan and . . . Adara? Who is
she?”

“She’s the midwife of Winterfell,” Arya answered. “She’s one of Old Nan’s granddaughters. Old
Nan took care of all of us here when we were small. Adara’s quite good, she’s been doing it for
years and years and hasn’t lost a baby or mother yet. They say she has magic in her touch,
and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her unhappy.”

“I’d like to meet her,” Dany agreed, the sensation of a heavy burden being lied from her
shoulders washing through her like a ood. We’ll be all right now. “Let’s have her over aer
supper? I’d rather not wait. I haven’t allowed the grand maester to put his hands on me, and
I’d like to be in her care as soon as possible.”

Arya turned around and spoke to an attendant passing by in the corridor, requesting Adara’s
presence.
Sansa’s eyes met Dany’s for a moment as she settled into a chair before doing the same.
“Now,
can I?” Arya asked, coming to kneel next to Dany’s chair.

“Oh, of course,” Dany invited, sitting back in the chair so Arya could put her hands on the
round swell of her belly. “The baby’s been particularly . . .”

“You’ve got a kracken in there, not a baby,” Arya laughed. “Sansa, come feel this! This baby is
trying to have a tourney in there.”

Dany took Sansa’s outreached hand and placed it high up on her side, near her ribcage, so
Sansa could feel the baby’s foot sliding back and forth against her skin. “That’s a foot,” she said
quietly. “And here . . . ” she moved Sansa’s hand to the front, feeling the hard knob poking out.
“That’s a knee or elbow, I can’t tell sometimes.”

Something passed through Sansa’s eyes, but she was smiling and reaching her other hand
around to feel more movements, exclaiming quietly and laughing with Arya as they played
with the active baby. Daenerys recognized what it was, but thought it better to wait for
another time to ask her about it. Sansa’s look was wistful and slightly sad. Had Ramsay hurt
her that badly?
Daenerys knew Sansa had suered greatly at the hands of her late husband, though she had no
way of knowing the extent of the damage. She worried for her sister. She brought her hand up
over Sansa’s and squeezed soly, causing Sansa to look up at her, and Dany gave her a small, sad
smile before she nodded slowly. “Later?” she asked.

Sansa sighed and smiled back. “Yes, later,” she promised. “We’ll go for a walk.”

Daenerys nodded. “When you’re ready,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

“I wish my mother and father could have known you,” Sansa said quietly.

“Your father kept me alive as best he could,” Daenerys reminded her. “That’s more of a blessing
from the Starks than I could have hoped for, considering the pain and suering my family has
caused yours in the past.” She shied in her chair and slowly pushed herself up to stand,
Arya
giggling at her. “Shhh. When it’s your turn, I’m going to laugh at you, too.”

“You’d better. You’d better come to Storm’s End and laugh at me. Both of you,” Arya shot back
before turning toward the door when a so knock sounded. “Ah, supper.” She went to the door
and opened it, letting the attendants in to set up Sansa’s table with their food.

They ate together in peaceful contentment, glad to be with each other all over again. “Has
it been been busy here, Sansa?” Arya asked, breaking her bread and looking up at her.

Sansa swallowed a bit of soup and shook her head. “Not really. There’s been some small
squabbles over even smaller matters, but that’s normal in the Winter, too many people
sitting next to the res with nothing to busy their hands or their minds except idle gossip that
breeds trouble.”

Daenerys nodded in agreement. “I have a little good news. The Fossoways have taken over
the residence of Highgarden,” she began. “And their seed stores were not lost.”

“Is it the red or green apple Fossoway?” Sansa asked, suddenly keenly interested in news
of other Houses.

“Green apple,” Dany answered.

“Ah, Ser Jon is married to Margaery Tyrell’s aunt,” she nodded knowledgeably. “She’ll know how
to care for Highgarden properly.” Sansa’s voice sounded of cool approval, distancing herself
suddenly with a deeper interest in her soup than strictly necessary.

“You miss Margaery, don’t you?” Arya asked directly, not missing a beat.
“I do. Very much. Most of the Tyrell family were lovely and kind to me,” Sansa answered,
then turned quiet again. “She was the closest thing to a friend that I had in King’s Landing.
She and Lady Olenna shielded me from Jorey on more than one occasion. I miss them both.”

Daenerys didn’t know what to say. Lady Olenna was dead because she’d joined with
Daenerys and the Lannisters wasted no time in killing her as surely as they’d killed the rest
of her family. Sansa was obviously lonely in Winterfell with everyone gone, le in solitude to
rule as Wardeness . . . too much time with her own thoughts and not enough
conversation . . . Dany
shied her chair backward and struggled to stand up, smirking as Arya leaned over and gave
her a small push from behind, snickering at her again. “I’ll be back,” she promised. “I’m just
going to
send a raven to Jon and let him know I’ve arrived safely.”

She happily walked through the familiar passages and corridors of Winterfell, going the long
way around to the rookery to greet every stone and room she could, trailing her ngers against
the warm stone walls as she went. Her feet felt lighter, though her growing womb made it
more dicult to keep her balance. There was a certain freedom to be had inside the walls of
Winterfell; she could walk wherever she wanted without an escort or attendant following her
every move. Several bannermen bowed low, all with smiles on their faces as a few murmured

“Your Grace,” as she passed through the Hall, taking her coat and pulling it around her as best
she could before she stepped out into the gently falling snow, following the familiar path to
the
rookery.

She wrote out a quick message to Jon, assuring him of her health and asking him to bring a few
of the younger knights and lords with the court to help entertain and make their hosts merry,
hinting that they ought to be around the age of the young Wardeness. All she could do was
hope he’d understand what she was asking. She found the correct section of ravens that knew
how to get to the Red Keep and sent o her message. She shivered slightly, the chill seeping
back into her quickly despite her coat, so she turned to go back, stopping in her tracks when
she heard

running footsteps in the snow outside. Spooked by the unknown, she stood and debated
whether or not to call out or pursue the person in question for a long moment before
she
decided against it.

She turned and walked back the way she came, staying to the lighted paths and corridors,
reaching Sansa’s rooms quickly and letting herself in. A wall of white fur stood in her path, and
a cold nose thrust itself in her face, sning her. Great red eyes met hers without either of
them needing to bend down. “Hello, my darling,” she whispered, leaning forward into his
“You’ve grown a bit since I last saw you.” She buried her face in his fur and wrapped her
arms around his neck the best she could, his warm fur lled with the scent of the forests and
snow.

“Ouch! Ghost, your tail hurts!” Sansa laughed, pushing the back end of the direwolf out of
her

way. “Go lay down if you’re going to stay in here. There’s no room for you to
wander.”

Ghost stayed stubbornly frozen in place as Dany held onto him. “Jon will be here in a few days,”
she promised him. “Why don’t you go outside again and I’ll come for you before I go to
bed?” She let him go and he moved closer to the door. She touched him aectionately on the
muzzle before he turned and squeezed through the door. “O you go, my love.”

“He knew you were here!” Arya exclaimed. “He’s been gone for weeks, but he just came in
and started scratching like crazy at the door.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh! I heard him running when I was in the rookery. I didn’t know it
was him, though. I got a little scared.”

A knock sounded on the door, and a guard outside announced Adara. “Adara!” Sansa exclaimed.
“I haven’t seen her since Jon and I took back Winterfell.”

The woman that walked in the door was warm and friendly, helping herself to a hook near
the
re for her cloak and gloves before coiling her long, brown braid into a knot and tying it with
a ribbon. “Lady Sansa?” she asked. “You have need of me?”

“No,” Sansa answered hastily, turning and looking away, a sudden ush to her cheeks. “Not me.”
She reached out and put her hand on Dany’s shoulder. “The Queen.”

“Your Grace, welcome back to Winterfell. No wonder so many people were happy in the
winter town tonight,” Adara greeted her happily, coming to her side and curtseying. “How far
along?”
“Seven months and some weeks,” Dany answered, smiling. “Rise,” she invited, oering her hand.

Adara took her hand and delicately kissed it before standing. “Will the grand maester be
joining you here for the birth?” she asked.

Daenerys shook her head slowly. “No, he will not. If I can rely on your condence, I’ve not been
under his care in the Red Keep, either. I’m . . . I don’t trust him. I haven’t had anyone
watching

over me except for one Dothraki midwife who returned to Essos with the rest of the khalasar
some four months ago,” she explained quietly. “I came to Winterfell as soon as I could, and I had
hoped that you and Maester Wolkan would be the ones to look aer me for the duration of
my connement until the baby is grown enough to travel back to the capital.”

Adara looked down at Dany’s abdomen and smiled a little as she nodded. “Not many weeks
le I’m guessing, but we’ll know a more accurate due date in a few minutes. Let’s have you
get comfortable . . . would you prefer to go to your rooms or borrow Lady Sansa’s bed for a
moment? I’d like to have a feel of the baby’s position and overall health, and I can measure you
and see roughly how much longer you have.”

Daenerys looked to Sansa, a questioning look on her face. “I’d rather stay here for now,
it’s warmer than my room is yet; I’ve only just arrived. Would that be all right with you,
Sansa?”

Sansa nodded and led them back to her bed and made to leave, but Daenerys grabbed her
hand and pulled her back. “Stay?” she asked. Having Sansa near her helped calm her fears.

“Of course,” she answered, settling herself next to Dany on the bed, making room for Arya
next to her.

Daenerys held her breath as Adara placed gentle and experienced hands on her belly, pressing
and moving the baby within to get an idea of its size. Daenerys relaxed into the midwife’s
touch, feeling no discomfort despite the jostling of her baby and the baby responding in kind.
“Only about ve weeks le, Your Grace,” she assured her. She felt around a little more, grasping
and touching at the aggressively moving knees and elbows and feet. “Oh goodness,” she
exclaimed quietly.
“It’s an active one,” Dany agreed, nodding and smiling a little. “I don’t nd sleep to come easily
at night.”

Adara sat down on the edge of the bed near Dany’s hips and took her hands gently in her own.
“I want you to feel this,” she said gently. She placed one of Dany’s hands on her side. “This is
the baby’s back and head.” She took her other hand and placed it near the front of her
abdomen, lower and slightly to the opposite side. “And this is the other baby’s little rump and
back. This
one is head down, and the other is sideways.”

“I’m sorry?” Dany choked out. “The other baby, what?” Arya whooped out a laugh but
quickly clapped her hand over her mouth when Dany’s belly visibly jumped in response to
the noise.

Arya nudged Sansa. “I told you there was a tourney happening in there,” she mock
whispered, trying and failing to stie her laugh.

“There are two, Your Grace,” Adara said calmly, taking a deep and slow breath. Dany could tell
she was trying to help her stay calm as well, so she mimicked the action. “Feel again.” She
guided Dany’s hands again, showing her. “They’re both thriving, both of them good sized and
active, so I’m not concerned for their health at this point. Eat and rest as oen as you can,
fresh air and good company can do wonders.”

“Daenerys, are you all right?” Sansa asked, reaching out and grabbing her hand. “You’re
going pale.”

“I think so,” she breathed out, feeling slightly dizzy and sick. Her secret fear had been
realized, the nagging suspicion she’d kept from Jon for over two months making bile rise in
her throat. How was she going to survive the birth? “I had thought, maybe . . . but . . .” she
looked from Sansa back to Adara before looking at Arya. “Oh gods, Jon . . . ”
“Jon is going to love this,” Arya giggled. “He’s going to absolutely be happier than a bear in
a honey tree.”

“Are we wagering on this? We ought to wager on this. I think rst he’s going to panic,” Sansa
predicted. “Not full on, but he’s going to get that look on his face, you know the one.” She
made Jon’s slightly worried scowl, making Dany snort back a laugh at the perfect mimic of his
furrowed brow. “And he’s going to go all still and quiet. He might blink, but I’m not going to put
any coin on
that. Two dragons.”

Arya let out a low whistle. “High stakes, Sansa. I’ll see that wager and raise you one laugh
before he starts to breathe again,” she countered comfortably. “He’s not going to go full on like
he did when Bran told him the truth, but it’s going to be close. Daenerys? You have a
prediction? Come on, wager with us,” she cajoled.

Dany knew exactly why Arya and Sansa were doing this. They’re trying to distract me from
panicking. Gods, I love them so. “If you insist . . . does it have to be in order?” She looked at
Arya, who was nodding eagerly. “Oh, all right. He’s probably going to cry rst, then laugh, and
then . . . everyone had better clear out, if you know what I mean. We’ll have collect and
exchange coin at a later time,” she predicted.

“Oh my gods,” Arya laughed. “How do you manage sex with them in the way like that? Oh,
don’t be like that, Sansa,” she chastised her sister, teasing her for her embarrassed hu as
Sansa turned away abruptly with ushed cheeks. “How do you think Daenerys got this way to
start with? Some magic with birds and seeds? She and Jon were always sneaking away to . . .”

“We were really grateful for the room so far away from everyone else in Harrenhal, Arya,”
Dany interrupted her as seriously as she could muster while grinning in jest, giving her a
pointed look. “Thanks for that.”

“Oh wow, that was the worst possible time, too,” she reected. “Well done Jon for performing
under so much stress. That’s admirable.” She was quiet for a minute before she gave a sudden
laugh. “Oh gods, is that why he yelled at that boy to fuck o?He didn’t waste any time, did he?”
“You’re lthy,” Dany chastised her sister with a laugh.

“Oh no, I’m not lthy around you two,” Arya shot back smugly. “Gendry could tell you . . .”

“Stop,” Sansa yelped, laughing and getting up o the bed.

A knock at the door sent Arya skittering to answer it. “Adara, you’re needed back in the
winter town,” she called. “Someone’s needing you. The message was to pack a bag.”

“Oh wonderful!” Adara exclaimed happily. “We’ve been waiting for this one for a fair while.
What a lovely night to be born.” She helped Dany get up and made her way to the door to
leave them for the night. “I’ll return in the morning for a proper visit, Your Grace,” she said
gently. “We’ll be able to talk more then and see to your wishes.”

“Come for breakfast if the baby is born at a reasonable time,” Sansa invited, a sudden
warmth and cheer in her voice.

“Thank you, my Lady,” she answered, wrapping her cloak about her and pulling on her
gloves. “I’ll be back in the morning.” She closed the door quietly as she le.

Daenerys stood near the replace, both hands on her abdomen. “ Twins,” she whispered. “I had
my suspicions, but I was too scared to think on it too deeply . . .”

Sansa pulled a chair over to her. “Sit,” she

commanded.

“I’d really rather not,” she answered faintly. “I think I want to go to bed, please.”

The morning aer Jon arrived on Rhaegal, Arya groaned at him when he and Daenerys entered
the Great Hall together for breakfast, Daenerys ushed with warmth and love, Jon looking
happier than she’d seen him in a long time. “Here,” she mock sobbed, tossing a small leather
bag
onto the table in front of Dany’s plate, the bag clinking with coin. “You won that fairly, I’ll tell you
that much.”

Jon watched her in puzzlement and surprise, but then laughed when Sansa opened her pocket
and deposited two new and shining golden dragons carefully on top of Arya’s bag. “A wife knows
her husband better than his sisters do, apparently,” she said with a smile. “There. One for each
baby.”

He picked one up and looked at it, smiling a little in approval. “These are the rst I’ve actually
seen outside the stamp outlines in the press.” He held it up for Dany to see, then dropped it
into her hands. “I like that they listened to me and used your image instead of mine.”

Dany reached over and picked up the other coin. “Well, look at this,” she whispered, ipping it
over to show him with a smile on her face. “I don’t recall having a beard.”

He took the coin and turned it over, seeing his own face. “I look better upside down,”
he grunted, passing it back to her.

She scoed and leaned over to kiss him. “Thank you for being a good sport,” she whispered,
stroking his cheek gently.

“I didn’t even know I was playing,” he grumbled, pushing the coin at her, making all three
sisters laugh. “Or what you were wagering on.”

Later, aer they’d returned to their rooms, Jon le Daenerys alone to nap for a bit before Adara
made her daily visit to check on her, heading out to wander through the godswood and think.
He walked slowly through the ice crusted snow, taking in the crisp and fresh air around him. It
was good to be home.

Twins. He grinned, looking up at the heart tree, looking into the branches as the red
whispered together in the breeze. He sat on one of the exposed roots and leaned back against
the trunk, thinking. There were two babies in there. Adara hadn’t been able to explain how
there
came to be two, nor could Maester Wolkan. One of life’s mysteries, he’d been told. He had asked
Daenerys if Adara would show him so he could touch them both, and she’d happily obliged.
He’d
managed to not sob like a little girl all over again, but he’d hauled Dany up into his arms and
held her, hiding his face in her neck as the tears had fallen before he began to laugh, his mirth
turning

to lust, the room emptying faster than he could tell them all to fuck o and get out. He never
knew how much he’d wanted . . . he cleared his throat and grinned again. He looked back up
into the tree and sent out a heart felt thanks to the gods for their blessings and gis to him,
grateful beyond words. He humbly asked that Daenerys and both babies survive the upcoming
birth
unscathed, for Dany to have a full and quick recovery.

Adara had said it would likely only be a few more weeks at most, that the strain of carrying two
would make it dicult for Daenerys to make it completely to full term. At his worried look,
she quickly assured him that she wasn’t very concerned, as both babies were sizable enough to
have little if any struggle at all outside the womb to survive, and the best that Dany could do
would be to rest and relax as much as she could.

No mean feat, considering what was happening inside the walls of Winterfell. Preparing for
the royal court was no small task, but Sansa was doing a brilliant job at it while
simultaneously working on several other side projects. Sansa, my sweet sister Sansa, he
lamented. Daenerys commented to him that Sansa had seemed . . . not unhappy exactly, but
subdued a little when she’d arrived. She had the impression that Sansa might have been
lonely. Dany had also, in the strictest condence, whispered to him that Sansa had discovered
she was carrying Ramsay’s child and had sought out Adara for her services the same night of
Ramsay’s death to rid herself of all traces of the Boltons. Jon had reeled in horror, but swore
to tell no one and not even tell Sansa that he knew. No wonder she’d been so cold and numb
at rst, he thought sadly, though upon further consideration he realized she would have had a
great many reasons for acting the way she did. She had more trauma in the past few years
than anyone ought to have lived through, and he momentarily wondered if it had been a
wise idea to l Winterfell with eligible

young men that would possibly attempt to court her.

He shook his head. It was either a brilliant idea or an insanely stupid one, though he leaned
on the former. He would trust his wife’s instincts. She was rarely wrong.

The court had sent word ahead of them of their intended arrival date, only a few days more,
and Jon found himself pacing in his makeshi council chambers, shuing a stack of missals in
hands as he pondered his decisions and orders. Daenerys had woken early that morning,
irritable and downright bitchy with him no matter what he said or did until he had calmly
dressed and slipped out of the room, leaving her with Missandei to sort it all out. He’d opted
to lunch alone at his desk while he signed and sealed his way through his neglected duties in
order to avoid her testy words and restless movements.

Thank gods Missandei had ridden ahead of the court with Grey Worm at Dany’s request, as
the closer it got to her due date the more nervous she seemed to be. Missandei’s presence
was a

balm to her raw nerves and he’d watched his wife slowly settle into a calmer state of mind
within minutes of her friend’s arrival. She’d been giving him looks of sympathy for more than a
few
days, so he could only imagine what Daenerys was saying about him when he wasn’t around.
He couldn’t nd it in himself to blame her though, she was enormous and unbearably
uncomfortable, the babies taking up every last inch of space inside her and still they insisted on
moving around.

He turned and dropped the parchments onto his desk as a sharp knock sounded on the
door. “Come,” he called, picking up a raven scroll.

“Your Grace,” Missandei greeted him when she opened the door. Speaking of . . . She was pulling
on her coat and wrapping a scarf around her head and neck. “I’m going for Adara. Daenerys . . .
it’s started, Jon,” she whispered quietly. “I’m to go and bring no attention to it.”

“Is she alone now?” he asked, throwing the scroll down and making for the door. “I’ll go get
the maester.”

“Sansa is with her for now, but she’s asking for you,” she answered, following him out of the
room and down the hallway. “She wants you.”

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” he said, stopping to protest. “She said she would rather not
have me . . .”

“I think it’s safe to say she’s changed her mind,” Missandei said with a small
smile.
He nodded, swallowing thickly. “What do I do?” he asked. “I hadn’t prepared . . . she said
she’d rather I didn’t . . .”

“Maester Wolkan is already there, and I would think he could tell you if Adara doesn’t,”
she answered, pulling the scarf around one nal time and walking hurriedly down the
passage, leaving him to walk back to their private quarters alone.

He let himself in, Maester Wolkan still in the front room, a large stack of linens in front of
him. “Go in there at your own risk,” he said with a grin and the shake of his head. “A
dragon lies within that chamber, Your Grace.”

“She’s been nearly unbearable for weeks,” he answered. “Though I can hardly nd fault.” He
stopped, his hand on the handle of the door, and turned to look back at the Maester. “What am I
to do in there? She wants me but I have no idea what I’m supposed to do?”

“I have no doubt Her Grace will be able to give you very exacting instructions, Your Grace,”
he said in a low voice, that large grin still on his face. “And I do imagine it will entail you
going to some circle of the hells. She’s been saying such for an hour or more now.”

“Wonderful,” he sighed, his voice laden with sarcasm. “Just what I was looking forward to.”

Tangent Chapter 21
Last chapter for this story.

Jon was shocked at the wall of heat that greeted him when he stepped into the room. He
tugged the lacing on his leather jerkin and yanked it over his head, tossing it onto a nearby
chair before

stepping around the bed to his side where Daenerys was kneeling on the oor and leaning her
forehead against the mattress, taking a slow and deep breath, Sansa looking up at him
uncomfortably from her place on the oor next to her.

“I’ve got her,” he said quietly to Sansa as he loosened the lacing on the collar of his linen
shirt and rolled up the sleeves. “You can go if you want.”

She leaned over and kissed Daenerys on the cheek, placing her hands into Jon’s before she
stood up and le quietly, closing the door behind her.

Jon knelt down next to her as she began humming out a low moan, her hands squeezing his for
a
brief moment before she let him go and took in a breath. “They’re starting to hurt,”
whispered.
she

“Your knees have got to be hurting, too,” he whispered back. “You want something to kneel
on, Love? This oor is cold and hard.”

“No,” she panted out, shaking her head. “Fuck o, Jon.”

“You gonna push the babies out right here in the corner of the room on this bare, cold oor?” he
asked, wide-eyed. “I don’t think we can t Adara back here with everything she needs, either.”

Daenerys thrust her hand against his mouth, eectively shutting him up. “Stop. Talking,” she
hissed out.
FIne. He sat back on his heels and waited patiently, wondering why she just didn t get up on
the bed where it was comfortable and a damn sight warmer than the stone oor digging into
her knees. She made no sense at all.

As if she’d heard him, she straightened up on her knees and gave him a look. “Shut up,”
she

snapped. She struggled to get to her feet, her belly knocking her o balance, so he caught her up
by the elbows and helped her stand. She pushed him away so she could get past him to pace at
the foot of the bed. He frowned a little, but knew she wasn’t directly angry with him, just in
pain and irritable, not unlike when she’d broken her leg.

Her steps faltered as she began to hum out again, then she was moving, pacing nervously as
he stood helplessly and watched. She pressed one hand low on her belly, cupping the
underside as she walked, stopping to press her face against the wall as she groaned out,
louder this time.

Impulsively, Jon stepped behind her and began to rub her back a little on the pressure points
where her spine met her hips, a spot he’d oen rubbed the past few months to help her sleep.
She sighed a little and he watched her shoulders drop their tension. He smiled a little, but kept
quiet as he worked, quickly moving away from her when she began to pace again to let her do
as she needed.

The door creaked slightly as Adara let herself in quietly. She gave him a quick smile in
greeting and went to work, stripping the bed and laying down a thick layer of white linens
on it, Missandei bringing water to l the large kettle hanging near the re, both of them
nearly ignoring Daenerys for the moment as she paced and whimpered. Jon watched as
they moved about the room silently, no fuss or words between them. He felt like an
intruder almost, until Adara came up to him and beckoned him out to the front room.

“All we need to do is wait and watch for the moment,” she whispered. “Let her move and do
as she pleases for now. Be available to her, and she’ll settle into a spot when it’s time. I’m
here to help you both.”

He nodded. “She didn’t even want me here until about a half hour ago,” he whispered back.
“I’m not at all prepared . . .”
She shook her head at him. “Don’t worry about that for now,” she said comfortingly. “Try to help

her stay calm and as relaxed as possible. Focus on her, and we’ll do the rest,” she
added thoughtfully. “Fear makes the pain worse and can make things move more
slowly.”

A mued moan came from the bedroom, and he was back to the door in an instant, letting
himself quietly back into the room and going to her side. She was standing, but bent over the
bed as she gripped the linens in tight sts. He ran his hand up her back, and she leaned into his
touch, so he took her cue and began to rub her back again.

On and on it went, Dany pacing and dgeting in between pains, withdrawing into herself when
another wave came over her. He brought her water and slowly tipped the glass on her lips
aer she’d catch her breath, stroking her arms and back when she would let him, backing o
and leaving her alone when she’d step away from him.

She began coming to him when a contraction began to build, burying her face in his chest as
she sobbed through it, sobbing about how much she hated him, but he felt nothing but relief
in being able to hold her and comfort her, whispering words of encouragement to her as it
would build, kissing her soly when it would nally ease away and she’d be limp in his arms for a
brief moment before moving away.

Daenerys had outright refused to stop moving long enough for Adara to feel the babies’
positions, and she had nearly snarled and snapped at her mid-contraction when she’d
attempted to get close to her and Jon. She’d eyed Dany’s belly as best she could, but for the
moment she respected Dany’s need to move.

Once, when he chanced a glance through the window, he was surprised to nd that it was full on
night outside. She’d been laboring since before breakfast, hours and hours ago, though she’d
repeatedly refused anything to eat, not even soup to sip at while she paced. There was no
time for him to feel tired, though, even when the grey dawn met them and she was still
pacing.

Adara pushed him out to the front room at one point to eat, and he’d hastily swallowed a few
bites of food, not even sure what he’d eaten before going immediately back to her, nding Adara
kneeling in front of Dany, her hands on her distended belly, feeling the babies positions as
Daenerys shied from one foot to the other restlessly as her womb contracted painfully.

She turned to look back at Jon and the seriousness in her eyes made his heart choke him. “We
need to move a baby up and out of the way,” she explained carefully, her tone serious.
“They’re both trying to come out at once and it’s keeping her from progressing.”

Jon nodded, swallowing thickly. “What do you need of me?” he

asked.

“Hold her upright. We want the pull of the earth to help as much as we can,” Adara answered.
She looked up at Daenerys. “It will cause pain, lovely girl. It will hurt, but it won’t be
unbearable, I promise. I need for you to focus on your sweet husband for me, and we’ll see
what we can manage . . .” She turned Daenerys toward Jon and he wrapped his arms around
her back, holding her up under her arms, looking into her exhausted face as Adara moved
between them from below. “Missandei, that large towel, please,” she directed quietly, Dany’s
friend coming to kneel behind Dany with a thick towel in her hands, holding it against
Daenerys as Adara reached and pushed upward on Dany’s belly, causing her to cry out and
squeeze her eyes shut.

“You’re all right,” Adara said soothingly. “It’s all right. We’ll give it another try. One wants to
move out of the way for the other, so at least they’re cooperating. They want to come out
and
see their Mama.”

Jon watched as Missandei tossed the soaking wet towel aside and grabbed another, holding it
to Dany again as Adara repeated the movement, pressing one baby back to allow the other to
descend. Daenerys let out a wail and her knees buckled under her, leaving Jon to hold her
entire weight upright for a moment before Adara encouraged him to move her to the side of
the bed to kneel on the thick blanket already in place on the oor. “Things are going to pick up fast
now,” she whispered to him.

“Want up?” Jon asked Daenerys quietly. “I’ll li you if you do.”

She shook her head vigorously and squeezed her eyes shut to block him out, too exhausted to
curse at him. He turned back to look at Adara, who was busily washing her hands, dumping
the soapy water into a bucket before washing all over again. He moved out of her way when
that built with the pain within her. Adara took his hands and placed them on her hips and had
him put pressure there, and he smiled a little when Dany sagged under his hands in relief, able
to take a deep breath.

Distracted with his task, he didn’t realize what Adara was doing between his feet, hunched
down between him and Dany, liing up Dany’s linen gown and moving it out of the way, reaching
around to press on her belly to help guide the rst baby downward and into position. Jon kept
steady pressure on her hips, focusing on his wife, holding her as she cried out louder and longer
than she’d done yet.

“Let her up if she wants,” Adara said to Jon as she backed away, and he let her
go.

The morning dragged on and by noon Daenerys was unable to keep pacing, too exhausted to
do more than rock back and forth on her feet, going down on her hands and knees at times in
her attempts to manage her pains when she didn’t want Jon to hold her. Adara would
periodically feel for the babies, reassuring Daenerys that they were both withstanding the long
wait, though breathing a deep sigh of relief when Daenerys nally tore at her clothes, pulling
the gown o as she fell forward onto her hands and knees, letting out a long cry. Jon moved to
hold her hands, letting Daenerys practically crawl into his lap in her attempt to move away
from the pain as Adara checked her from behind.

“Daenerys,” she called to her. “Push against my hand, sweetling.”

Dany was shaking her head vigorously. “I can’t,” she whimpered. “I just can’t. I’ve got
nothing le.”

Adara heed Daenerys up onto her knees and turned her toward the bed, physically pushing her
to lean against the bed, pressing her cheek to the mattress. She pointed to Missandei, who
stepped forward to lay across the bed and hold Dany’s arms to keep her upright. Jon watched,
the way Missandei was barely able to hook her feet on the far edge of the bed to brace herself
would have been adorable if it had been at any other time. Adara handed Jon a blanket and
had him move slightly. “I can help you, Daenerys, but it’s going to hurt,” she warned her. “Try to
push for me when I tell you, and we’ll get at least one of them out so you can have a short
here, he’s ready to catch.
Ready?”

Jon watched helplessly as Adara grabbed Dany from behind and began to put pressure on her
belly, encouraging her to push as she did. Daenerys let out a long, drawn out wail and gripped
at Missandei, Adara breaking out into a sweat as she pressed inward and downward hard,
making

Jon wince as Daenerys continued to cry out, her voice breaking on a scream as Adara let her
go in time to ease the rst baby’s head out, supporting it as she used gravity and gentle hands
to guide the baby the rest of the way out and onto the so blanket waiting below.

Jon’s head swirled and he broke out into a sweat, the blood and uid making him both terried
and numb. A quick rub at the baby’s feet and back had it twitch and begin to cry, then Adara
was quickly tying o and cutting the cord, passing the baby back to Jon, returning her focus to
Daenerys.

Stunned, Jon held the screaming and bloody baby in his hands for a blink before he could
react, looking down at the baby and grinning. “We’ve got a girl, Love,” he said, wiping her o
a little and then moving to Dany’s face so she could see the baby.

“Help her get the baby to suckle,” Adara said quickly. “It will help the second one come
more easily.”

Jon helped Dany turn to lean back against the bed, sitting back on her feet so she could rest a
little, bringing their baby girl up to her breast and holding her there so Dany didn’t have to use
any eort. The baby immediately latched on and began to suckle, and Daenerys burst into tears,
taking her from Jon, holding her, touching her head and cheeks with trembling ngers,
whispering to the baby as she nursed. Dany closed her eyes, tears streaming from her face,

simply taking a moment to breathe before opening her exhausted eyes to look down at
newborn again.
her

Jon grabbed the glass of water that had been waiting on the table, holding it up to her lips so
she could drink without letting the baby go. She drained the glass, and Missandei took the
empty away, returning to Jon’s side to press a warm, wet cloth into his hand. She gestured to the
baby, and he moved in, wiping her o as best he could, kissing Daenerys on the cheek and bare
shoulder as he did, whispering to them both how much he loved them. “You got your girl,”
whispered back, her voice too hoarse for
use.

“Yeah, I did,” he answered, his grin not doing much to hide his tears. “Here she is, just like I
knew she’d be.”

“I thought they were both boys,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry I teased
you.”

He shook his head and laughed a little, sniing and wiping his nose. “Don’t be sorry, Love. I’ve
been cryin’ like a little girl over all this. I’m pretty sure I deserved to be teased. I’ll laugh back at
you if the other one’s a girl too, though.” He couldn’t help but stare at Dany, how gorgeous she
looked, though she was tired and disheveled. Her face was glowing with warmth and she was
covered in a light sheen of sweat as she tried to catch her breath as she looked from the baby
in her arms to Jon’s face so close to hers.

“I never thought I’d have a little girl,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his for a
moment. “I remember thinking it when I was in Meereen, and how awful it made me feel
inside.
But here she is.” Dany kissed her on the cheek and touched her lovingly, glad to have a
moment to simply take her in and love her.

Jon watched as she began to grimace in pain. “Take her,” she whimpered suddenly, followed by a
gasp. Jon held the baby to her breast as Dany gripped the sideboard of the bed behind her, her
knuckles whitening as she gritted her teeth. He watched her tuck her head down to her chest,
focusing on the baby suckling at her breast as she began to push. “Come on, Love,” he
encouraged her. “You’re nearly done. One more to go, and then you can hold them both and
you can get some rest.”

It was only a few pushes, seemingly only a few minutes before Adara was pressing down on
Dany’s belly, helping her to push, talking her through it, encouraging her soly as Missandei
readied another blanket, Jon taking the baby girl and moving her out of the way so Dany could
turn her attention to the second baby, her hands reaching for it before she gave one nal push
and Adara was liing the baby up, turning it and giving it the same attention as the rst, passing
the second baby directly to Dany as soon as it cried. “A little Prince, Your Grace,” she
whispered quietly with a smile. “One of each.”
Daenerys openly sobbed as she held her son, holding him up so she could see his face, kissing
him and pressing him to her chest as they both cried. Jon eased the little girl back into Dany’s
arms, and she held them both, leaning back in relief as Missandei began to l the tub in front of
the replace.

Maester Wolkan came forward from his chair in the corner, waiting for Daenerys to be
attended to so he could examine the babies, though Daenerys looked at him and shook her
head once.

Jon stepped in between them, wary. “She’s not ready yet. Let her feed the boy rst and let her
have a moment,” he said gently. He looked out the window. It was dark again. “She’s been at this
for nearly two days. Let her have a minute with them.”

In the end, Missandei had taken rst the little girl, then the little boy so Jon could li Dany in his
arms and settle her into the tub. Daenerys had reached for her daughter rst, taking her from
Missandei and bathing the baby gently, propping her on her raised thighs, her little head
supported by her mother’s knees. Jon watched her, feeling a heavy sense of peace begin to
radiate through him, the tension and exhaustion in his muscles melting away as Dany took a
bit of soap and washed their little girl. “Her hair . . .” he whispered, pointing the ne, smooth
down

on her little head. “Look, Love. She has your hair.”

“And your frown,” Dany added in a whisper, smiling down at the baby in her lap, bringing up one
tiny foot for a kiss, then bending forward to do the same on her hands and face. “Hello, my
sweet darling. Let me tend to your brother and we’ll have some sleep.”

Adara moved to claim the clean baby, drying her carefully in front of the re before spreading a
so blanket on the low table in front of the maester’s chair. The baby cried while being
looked over, but Daenerys had the baby boy in her lap now, bathing him thoroughly, giggling a
little at
his wild hair that resembled starlight, kissing him just as she’d done his sister before passing
him o to Jon. “Oh my gods,” he exclaimed with a grin. “Tormund reborn, this one.”

“Except kissed by snow instead of re,” she jested, giving him a sideways glance.

“Something like that,” he agreed, his grin growing wider. “Hey, Son. I’m your Da.” He tucked the
boy against his chest until Adara took the girl from the maester, and Jon carefully laid the
boy down to be looked over.

Dany groaned from behind him, and he turned to look at her, Missandei pouring hot water
over her hair and neck. “Feel better, Love?” he asked.

“I don’t hate you anymore,” she answered him.

He snorted back a laugh. “Well, that’s something, anyway.”

He turned to watch Adara diaper and swaddle the baby girl, giving her to Jon before taking the
boy and doing the same. He stood in the middle of the room, a baby in each arm, Dany
soaking limply in the tub while Missandei gathered up all the soiled linens and moved them to
the outer room for another attendant to take away.

Jon watched Adara administer a few drops of dark liquid under Dany’s tongue before recapping
the bottle and leaving it on the mantle. “For the pain,” she indicated to Jon. “She’ll need more
in a few hours. This mixture won’t taint her milk like willow bark will.”

He nodded in thanks, turning his eyes back to the little ones in his arms. Emotional and
uncertain, he stood in the middle of the quietly bustling room and looked from one little face
to the other, their warm weight in his arms overwhelming him with fear and love. He looked
from girl to boy, back and forth as they slept. “Rhaeanna and Rhaegar,” Dany whispered from
the bath.

“Rhaeanna and Rhaegar,” he agreed huskily when he found his voice again. He looked at his
daughter. Rhaeanna. Rhaella and Lyanna together, he realized with a grin. He looked over at
his son, his wild silver hair neatly covered by a little lambswool hood, identical to the one on
his sister’s head. Rhaegar, the heir to the Throne.

He waited until Dany was settled in the bed before he carefully passed her each baby, giving
her time to touch and sweetly kiss them, her tears coming quickly as she held them close,
their little cheeks against hers to feel their breath. He let her have those moments before he
kissed her soundly and wrapped his arms around her. He did the same to her as she’d done
to them, pressing his face to hers, breathing her in, in love with the very air around her. He
could feel the exhaustion radiating from her, so he helped ease her down into the so
pillows. She reached over and rested her hand over her babies on the bed next to her,
needing to touch them, to reassure herself they were really there, her eyes uttering closed
immediately

aerward.

It was very tempting to simply go to the other side of the bed and lay down himself, but he
le their rooms, donning his jerkin and then his boots, pulling his heavy cloak about him
before he
rst went to the rookery and sent o the appropriate ravens, the chill night air promising snow
as each raven ewto its destination, each carrying the announcement of the births.

He watched the ravens disappear almost immediately in the dark night, turning on his heels and
walked from the rookery directly to the godswood to send up his gratitude and relief to the
gods. He sat on the great exposed root where Ned used to sit, staring up into the leaves of the
heart tree, thinking of all the people that had gone from the world, people he’d cared about,
wondering what they would say to him now that he was a father. He’d never know, though he
knew the advice Ned had given him as a boy growing up would be useful in teaching his own
children about the rights and wrongs of the world.

Jon had no idea how long he sat out in the godswood, staring blankly at the ice encrusted
snowdris around him before he stood from his makeshi seat, groaning at the exhaustion in his
body. There were likely piles of papers accumulating on his desk from being absent the past few
days. Perhaps it would be better to sleep a little before diving into all that, though. He already
missed them, all three of them. The ice crunched under his feet as he walked a new path, using
a back passage to get to their rooms. He walked quietly past Sansa’s quarters, then was
opening his own door, tossing o his cloak and boots before slipping into the bedchamber,
nding Dany sitting up with one baby at her breast, the other still asleep next to her.

“He doesn’t like to be wrapped up,” she murmured to Jon as he came to sit on his side of
the bed. “It took me ages to gure out why he was fussing.” He could tell by her voice that
she’d gotten at least a little rest, and it made him less concerned.

Jon looked around the room, a frown pulling at his face. “Where is everyone?” he asked.
shouldn’t have le her alone to gure all this out on her own.

“I sent them all away. I wanted quiet and to be alone,” she answered simply.

He stood up again, his heart sinking. “I’ll go,” he said slowly.

“Oh gods, Jon. Not you. Seven hells. You’re the one who actually belongs here with us.
Sit down,” she chastised him in a whisper. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

He shook his head. “I can’t be nearly as tired as you are,” he answered, retaking his position
on the bed.

“Shhh, just lay down and sleep,” she whispered. “It’s not a bloody competition.”

Jon nodded, laying back on the pillows and watching her feed Rhaegar. “Does that hurt?”
he asked, seeing her wince.

She shook her head. “Not what he’s doing, no,” she answered, her voice still slightly hoarse.
“It’s the rest of me that hurts.”

“Gods, I can imagine,” he whispered, reaching out and touching her soly on the cheek. “You
were so brave, Love. I’m proud of you. Oh hey,” he exclaimed as she snied, reaching over
and brushing the tear from her cheek with gentle ngers.

“I’m all right,” she whispered, leaning into his touch. “I just . . . I never thought . . . right up until
they were born . . . I didn’t really think I’d live to see them. I never thought, never allowed
myself to hope that I’d see my own child at my breast, Jon, and I’d been nearly at peace with that
before you showed up in my life.”
“Probably sounding like a lunatic, raving about White Walkers and the dead,” he added with a
short laugh. Rhaeanna stirred soly, her little tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth.
Jon sat up and carefully picked her up from the bed, cuddling her close, smiling down at her
when she opened her eyes. “Hello there, my darling girl,” he whispered as he lied her,
bringing her face close to his so she could see him before he kissed her soly. “I’d dreamed of
you months ago and Mama laughed at me. She thought you and your brother were both
boys, but I knew

you were in there.”

Rhaeanna began to snue and fuss, and Jon looked helplessly at Dany for a moment. “Just
hold her for a minute, I’ll make room for her,” she told him, pulling down the other side of her
gown. She tugged a pillow down and shied Rhaegar in her arms so his little body was tucked
against her side, then Jon helped her do the same on the opposite side, helping to hold
Rhaeanna against Dany until she’d found what she’d been wanting, calming down with a sigh
and a suckle.

“Before I pass out, do you need anything?” he

asked.

“Water, please,” she asked. “I’m terribly thirsty. Could you drop some of those drops in the water

for me, too?”

“Of course,” he answered, straightening up and attending to her glass as requested. “How bad
is it?” he asked, bringing her the prepared water. “Really.”

She shook her head as she drank. “It comes and goes,” she answered evasively. “It’s not
terrible, but it’s nice to have something to take for it.” She upended the glass and then
sighed. “Thank you. That’s much better.”

“So it really fuckin hurts, then,” he said, taking the glass from her and relling with with plain
water before putting it down on the low table next to her side of the bed, within easy reach
for her in case he wasn’t awake when she needed more.

She shrugged. “Nothing like a few hours ago,” she answered nally, dismissing his concern.
“Here, he’s done.” She oered him Rhaegar, and Jon quickly gathered him up. “Pat him on the
back for a minute, it’ll help his milk settle and then he’ll sleep for a
bit.”

Aer doing as Dany had requested, he turned the baby over into the crook of his arm and
traced one tiny hand with a nger. “You’re so small, Son,” he whispered. “How does someone so
small take up so much room in my heart?” He looked up at Daenerys, feeling the burn of tears
for

what felt like the hundredth time that day. “You made babies, Daenerys.” Once he’d uttered the
words, he felt like an idiot, but she was smiling at him, at his wonder.

She laughed a little, then turned her attention back to Rhaeanna. “Caught on to that, did
you?” she jested, then added quietly. “You helped.”

“Yeah, but I only got to do the fun part,” he

protested.

Dany laughed a little, shaking her head. “Oh, don’t talk to me about any sort of fun involving
my body right now, Jon. We need a break from fun.”

“I saw both babies born, Love. I imagine having me anywhere near you right now isn’t
exactly enticing. I’m surprised you hadn’t threatened to geld me,” he said, only half serious.

“I’d never do that,” she assured him. “But I do want you to hold me.”

“But keep the cock away for a bit,” he added, grinning at her.

“Exactly.”

He turned serious as he came to her, holding her around the shoulders so he wouldn’t disturb
Rhaeanna, kissing Dany soly on the temple. “You tell me when you’re ready, and not a
moment before. Promise?”
She nodded. “I promise,” she whispered back. “Come, lay down and get some sleep with us.
If you lay with Rhaegar on your chest, he’ll likely sleep better.” She reached over and tossed
the

light woolen blanket that he’d been swaddled in to Jon.

He picked it up and settled on the bed, easing his son down to lay on his chest and covered
him

with the blanket. “Your Aunt Sansa made this for you,” he whispered to the sleeping baby. “She’s
probably pacing in her room, waiting to see you.”

“We’ll sleep for a bit rst,” Dany said, disengaging a sleeping Rhaeanna from her breast. “Then
we’ll have the family come in to see them. Family only, then maybe tomorrow we’ll have
more people in.”

“It’s good plan,” he murmured sleepily. “I like it when how you do that.”

“Dear gods, you’re going delirious, Jon. Sleep,” she laughed. She put Rhaeanna down next to
his arm before sliding down into the bed and getting comfortable before drawing their
daughter

closer again.

“You rst,” he answered, barely able to hear her but wanting the last word all the same.

He woke to Adara’s laugh in the front room, late aernoon sun pouring itself weakly through
the window. He could see white, ominous clouds broiling beyond the blue skies, and he knew
it would bring a blizzard by nightfall. Thank the gods the babies are already here.

He looked over at Dany, still asleep next to him. Rhaeanna had been unswaddled and slept
soundly on Daenerys, her tiny feet tucked up under her so her little rump was sticking up
under the blanket. He looked down at Rhaegar, who had somehow folded himself in half, his
feet pressing against his belly, one hand up over his face. Jon brought his hand up to touch his
son’s unruly hair, chuckling to himself. “Little wild man,” he whispered. “Tormund’s going to
have a laugh at that mop of yours. Come on, let’s go see what’s so funny out there.”
Holding Rhaegar snugly against his chest, he rolled to his side and sat up on the edge of the
bed, rubbing his face with his free hand. “I needed that. Thanks for letting Mama and Da have
a rest,” he whispered, kissing the baby on top of his little head. He stood up and went to the
door, not caring about his disheveled appearance.

Sansa and Adara were chatting by the re, and didn’t notice him until he cleared his throat.
“Aunt Sansa, come say hello to your nephew,” he said quietly, smiling at his sister as he carefully
passed the bundled and sleeping baby to her. He looked to Adara. “Daenerys is still sleeping.”

“We’ve been checking in on you about once every hour,” Adara answered him, nodding.
“It might be time to wake her soon so the babies can eat.”

As if on cue, Rhaegar moved restlessly in Sansa’s arms. Jon could hear him snuing and
clicking his tongue, turning his head back and forth in search of Dany’s breast. “He wants
food,” he said quietly. “Sorry. Empty bellies need lling rst.”

Missandei came out of her small room and took Rhaegar from Sansa before Jon could.
“He needs a change, too,” she said soly. “Come on, my sweet Prince.”

Jon shrugged and grinned at Sansa. “You see his hair? He’s got the best Wildling hair I’ve
ever seen. Rhaeanna’s is all neat and proper, but his . . .”

“He looks like one of those little elings that Old Nan described in her stories,” she murmured.
“Wild hair and sweet faces, but erce with lances and arrows.”

Jon laughed. “Gods, I feel like I can breathe again,” he said, sitting down in a chair.

“It’s been a tense few weeks,” Sansa agreed, seating herself next to him. “Lord Connington sent
a raven. He’s travelling North with the rest of the bannermen of the Stormlands. He said they
hope to meet with Lady Tarly’s envoys on the way. They’re bringing provisions from The Reach to
help with any depletions with the incoming guests and court.”
“Good of them,” he remarked, staring at the re. He heard a baby cry, Rhaeanna, and he was on
his feet, bolting to the door, not caring the least about the laugh that came from his sister
behind him. He le the door open for her in invitation, but quickly came to the side of the bed
to see what the fuss was about. Missandei was simply changing her and tying a little
lambswool

dress around her to help keep her warm, but Rhaeanna was having none of
it.

“Imagine how it must feel to wear clothes for the rst time,” she said in her so, sweet voice. “It
must be an odd feeling indeed, my Princess. Sadly, the outside world isn’t as warm and
comfortable as being inside your mother.”

Sansa stepped into the doorway. “May I come in?” she asked quietly.

“Yes please,” Dany assured her, reaching her hand out in welcome. “I’m glad to see you.” She
gestured to the bed. “Come and sit if you like. Rhaeanna has already fed if you want to hold her.”

“I do,” Sansa answered, reaching out and tucking the baby into her arms. “She’s so perfect,”
she whispered. “Hello, my Princess,” she whispered. “We nally meet face to face. I’m the one
who was always poking at you to kick me. Oh goodness, you have your father’s frown.”

“Rhaegar does, too,” Dany said, laughing a little and leaning against Jon as he bent over to
kiss her.

“A whole family of brooders,” Sansa sighed. “May you have mercy on the realm.”

Rhaegar and Rhaeanna Targaryen, ladies and gents. Though they didn’t actually weigh the
babies, in my mind they were each roughly around 6 lbs, 18/19 inches long?? Big and
healthy
 for twins I foresee no health issues for either child, and they’ll live happily well
into adulthood.
 All is well. I’m taking a break from writing for a bit, I’ll make this into a series so you can watch
the twins grow a bit, and I will be opening up my Tumbler for prompts in a week or so.

Together, we’ll make some more Jonerys magic happen for this amazing fandom. Much love
you all and thank you so very much for all your kind and supportive
to
comments.