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Disclaimers: When I am writing, it's foremost for my own pleasure.

Pairings: as canon.

Note: I’ve never written GoT fanfic, I’ve not read the books or seen all the episodes so please let me know if I’m making any mistakes in regards to this universe.

Chapter 1: Howl of the Wolf

Tormund Giantsbane sat sipping his ale carefully, knowing that not much of it was available on their travels beyond the Wall. They would brew more eventually, once they’ve settled somewhere long enough for any grains to mature. They weren’t far enough from Castle Black yet to start establishing their new Kingdom, but the Free Folk leader would have been keen on starting at least a temporary settlement for the sake of his friend Jon. Tormund started at the White Wolf’s sleeping form in the small tent they shared for the night. Lately, Jon was rarely asleep and even then, he would toss and turn uncomfortably, moaning or waking in a sweat. The raider had been very concerned for his friend ever since they’ve started on this journey. He knew of course what Jon Snow had to do for peace and the welfare of all the lands, but hoped that Jon would settle down eventually, with less nightmares to plague him. It seemed however that it was too early for such hopes. The sworn brother of the Night’s Watch barely ate anything and was becoming paler and thinner every day. Tormund was quite sure Jon had thrown up a few times as well, no matter how much he’d tried to hide his weakness. It was a matter of the heart and soul and besides giving him time, Tormund wasn’t sure how to help his friend forgive himself. He found it very hard to listen to Jon moaning uncomfortably and had an urge to clamp his ears shut in his helplessness when an opening in the flap of the tent indicated one of the older spearwives coming through unexpectedly. “Something the matter?” Tormund acknowledged that he should worry about his wildfolk too.

Astera was a long haired woman with a thick waist and enormous breasts, though age made her hair grey and her countenance withered. She had no longer taken part in active battles for quite some time to Tormund’s knowledge, but had a good understanding of how to take care of wounds and different ailments that would badger the wildlings from time to time. She was quick on the ball this time as well, quietly observing the two leaders of their group from afar. The red haired warrior knew that Astera noticed Jon disappearing from around the fire where they shared their evening soup or the catch of the day, that she had noticed the days’ wanderings being cut short so that Lord Snow could rest, the silence and melancholy he countered every moment with, the hand often going to and staying on his stomach, his weight loss, the couple of stumbles that Tormund prevented, Ghost’s whining in concern outside the tent every night. It was in the name of this shared understanding that she entered their sleeping place and simply sat to suggest, “we should stay here for a couple of days. As I see it, Jon needs the rest badly.”

Tormund humhoed, “can’t. The people are eager to find a place to settle down, start enjoying their lives.”

“The people hear Jon waking screaming from a nightmare every night.”

“So? We all have nightmares. Who wouldn’t under the circumstances! He’s allowed to grieve!” Tormund was immediately defensive and met her eyes with defiance, “he’s allowed to love the Queen with too many names! To us, she’s done nothing, she only helped us!”

“The people are all worried for him.”

“Tell them they don’t need to. I’ll pick up the pieces. I’m here for him, whatever he needs.” There was a strange mist in his eyes as he swore.

“They follow him because they want to. They would wait for him too, don’t you think so?”

“Hmm. Aye, I love the mad cunt too, he is my best friend, but I’m not sure two days would do him any good,” he spoke as quietly as he could manage so as to not to wake the man and glanced at him to check that he didn’t, “a year, a decade, a century maybe..the boy mainly suffers from an affliction of the heart,” he stared into the flames in the middle of the tent.

Astera shook her head, “it isn’t guilt, longing or heartache that is making him ill. Of course, that was the original cause, but by now I would consider the ailment too far gone not to have taken root in the body.”

“You think so? So what can we do for the little crow then?”

“Not much in the here and the now to be honest. Maybe if I take a look at him up close, so I could see how much he is affected.”

“I doubt he would let you do anything, including touch him.”

“That is why I got this,” she pulled a small satchel from under her skirt, “put these leaves in his tea the next time he takes some.”

“Or I can just knock him out?”

Astera knew he was jesting though, “the tea will give him the rest he needs and us the chance to attend to him. Call me when he gets into that state, I will be nearby.”

Only a blink gave proof to Tormund’s surprise, but then he nodded, ready for anything necessary to help his suffering friend. He slid over to the smaller man’s side onto the furs as soon as the woman left, and leaned over him to scrutinise him up close. Was his affliction really that serious? Should he fear for his friend’s life? “Gods, Jon, my pretty boy, you know how I’d do anything for you, fuck, I’ll not let you go…” He whispered, even quieter than before. If only Jon would let him help. He put a hand reassuringly on the other man’s arm, or maybe that was for his own comfort. Ghost pushed his nose inside the tent and Tormund felt like his face was echoing the exact sentiment so he ruffled the hair gently on the animals’ head. “Don’t you want to come in, heat up? You and me, huh, always for this lost cause of a boy,” he chastised himself, but of course he would never choose another way than by Jon’s side, “there’s some goat’s milk somewhere here,” he offered the bowl he used earlier up to the direwolf. They will sleep bundled up close together tonight, he decided, for Jon’s comfort.

Tbc

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Chapter 2: Cold Alarm

Tormund was once again surprised by how well Astera’s herbs worked. Jon was out cold, way past dawn and even when prodded by the spearwife. It was only when the old woman pressed at parts of his bared abdomen for some reason that he groaned and stiffened, breaths quickening, but still, he didn’t wake. Astera sighed, “it is just as I feared. He can’t lead us no more, he’s very ill and neither can you.”

“Are you mad? What do you mean I can’t!” Tormund cautioned, scandalised, “when there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“What’s wrong with you is your care for this man. I don’t have medicine to help him. You have to take him back to Castle Black and soon, if you want your friend to have a chance to live.”

“You must be mistaken! I know that he’s disgusted enough with himself to puke when he’s thinking too much, but he’ll fight it, he always does, he’s too proud not to. Plenty of things tried to kill him, some succeeded and he’s still here. He is not that ill. I should pull your guts out through your throat for thinking otherwise! Find us a good lass to forget with instead! You know what happens to the pecker if you don’t use it.” Tormund scolded, his voice a deep rumble, defensive of his friend and more reliable at it than pure gold. “It would help him find his resolve.” He simply couldn’t imagine it otherwise.

“You forget that he might not have more destiny to fulfill. Infection’s setting in, he has a high fever,” the old woman did not shrink back from disagreeing with him.

“What is going on?” The big boned warrior shook his head, taken aback to find Jon’s cheeks simmering hot on touch, “no, but why would he have a fever?”

“His belly is washboard hard and very tender. I know for a fact that he’s vomited blood the other day.”

“What the fuck, are you sure?” Tormund scratched his red beard, startled.

“He might have been certain he walked far enough from the camp for nobody to notice, but I’ve seen the puke, I went over on purpose to look at it in the moonlight when the moon was high above in the sky. I’m assuming his stomach tried to eat itself as he was barely eating for weeks.”

“None of the Freefolk eat much either for the shortage of rabbits just now,” the redhead held, “you think my stomach doesn’t hurt for not eating? A big mighty man like me, alike a giant needs more sustenance.”

Astera shook her head, “he is in constant pain, physical and emotional.You have to take him back, he won’t survive out here. I’m not even sure if he’d survive anywhere. He does not want to, that’s the truth of it.”

Tormund stared for a moment at his fitfully resting friend and the sweat beading on his forehead. “And you still think he’ll let me take him back? Bloody hells, woman, don’t you know the runt? Not to mention being exiled here,” the raider set a calming hand on Jon’s arm with a gentleness unbefitting a wildling warrior, “seven hells, there is nowhere else for him to go.”

“We stopped here more or less in secret because he could go on no more, isn’t that right? Let us take back our lands without him, he cannot help in this state. His kin, they’ll not turn him away at death’s door.”

Tormund sighed his dissatisfaction and gave her a pointed look. “Are you sure about that? It’s not like they haven’t done it before, the cowards, especially the crows. He’ll always be our King, my King beyond the Wall. He may be lost inside his head, but you know that when the bloody bastard wakes up, he will be angry and will want to ride on like before, pretend like nothing’s changed,” the bearded man asserted.

“You should know that when he wakes up, he will be in agony and will not be able to hide it for long any more. Don’t you understand?” Astera insisted, “you will need to keep making that tea for the pain. I’m giving you all that I have and let’s hope it will last you till you get back. If you can manage to get him to swallow, give him water with a little honey from time to time, to keep up his remaining strength. I suggest getting him on the road now. I took the liberty to ask the men to build a stretcher for you, one you can attach to your horse.”

“Enough! Thank you, but that was surely not necessary,” Tormund grunted, confused and still in denial, “don’t panic unnecessarily.” But he himself started to pace back and forth in his anxiety, his heart racing with it. Maybe Jon’s welfare was more important to him than it should have been.

“I don’t think you should wait, but if you don’t believe me, stay till he wakes up and you’ll see. He will deteriorate rapidly from now on, but you could probably spare a few hours. You might want to think about your replacement, I’ll give you some space. In the meantime, I’m going to gather some snow to at least cool him down..”

Tbc

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Chapter 3: Up and Away

Not quite convinced by the old woman’s tales, Tormund watched his friend groan and trash uncomfortably in his sleep for a while, contemplating whether he should indeed start off without Jon’s knowledge or permission. If not for moving, Jon already looked like a corpse, but one that was in great agony and seemed to have to struggle just to breathe. Astera was probably right. Tormund reached out, smoothing Jon’s sweaty hair out of his face gently and uncharacteristic of a giant his caliber, hoping the young man would come to and tell him what to do. The snow she had covered his chest with to cool him down had already melted and the born warrior could swear he could see steam coming off the former King in the North’s skin. “We will go now, Jon Snow,” he finally decided, bundling the invalid up into his arms to take him out to the stretcher already prepared with blankets by the old woman. It was disconcerting how Jon did not react to getting hauled, apart from his pained moans and how limp he appeared when placed into the contraption. “Well, just sleep, I’ll take you home to those Southern twats, whether they truly care about you or not because they should,” he promised his unconscious friend. Nobody questioned him as he rode out the camp, Jon’s welfare was on everyone’s wish list. Ghost followed immediately, bringing Jon’s sword in his mouth with as Tormund seemed to have forgotten it in his worried hurry.

“I will leave you some signs,” Tormund’s younger daughter assured them by the last tent and then there was nothing but endless whiteness and his hope to get to the help in time. He was going for speed, intending to cross the snowy planes in at least half the time they’ve taken to get to their latest camp, but he also aimed for a smooth journey so he would not jostle the sick man too much. Jon’s condition in this aspect was relatively easy to tell going by the pants and whimpers and occasionally, Jon crying out when they were going over some bump even in his unconscious state. Tormund got used to it, and only really became worried when the noises stopped for once and before long, he turned to check on his companion. The wildling already felt the intense heat as he leaned over his cargo and was surprised to find Jon blinking up at him with those sad eyes, breaths barely raising his chest. “What is it, boy?” Tormund looked for some direction. He hated how helpless the younger man looked and how helpless he himself felt in the face of such lack of love for life.

“What’s happening? Where are we?” Jon showed interest, but did not even raise his head to look around.

“You got very ill, Snow, like you’re broken,” his loyal friend tried to follow Astera’s instructions and give the man a sip from the concoction of the pain alleviating tea and honey he had ready in a flask.

“Aye,” eyes half lidded already and buried beneath furs, the younger man didn’t argue with that.

“I’m taking you to get more medicine then,” Tormund explained, “and we have to keep going.”

“But why?” Jon panted, breathless.

“Why? Because you need it, you idiot! You’re mistaken if you think I can just let you die out here!”

“Why?” Jon whispered, just looking out into the fog, “I never asked for it, to leave your people.”

If it wasn’t for his condition, Tormund would have punched him for that answer. “It’s my choice to make, alright? And as you can’t get up, you will just have to fucking accept it, damn you, Jon Snow of the Stubborn Kind!” The wildling stomped off huffily to resume their journey.

The next time Tormund stopped, it was out of panic that it was already too late. He had heard Jon being sick, that had not been an unusual occurrence over the last few days of travel, so he only looked back leisurely to check on him and make sure he wasn’t choking on that little vomit. It wouldn’t have been much at any case as Jon was not able to swallow much else than the tea and maybe at times some of the bits of dried fish Tormund had brought along, so the wildling was surprised to find that the whole of Jon’s front was wet and looking closer in the murky daybreak, he could now see it was with blood. Tormund jumped in alarm to raise the younger man, hoping for any movement, a whisper out his half frozen lips or even a flutter of his eyelids.

Jon Snow gave no signs of life, but Tormund could reassure himself with the invalid’s breath misting the chilly air, still too hot for comfort, but at least the dragon rider was alive. The red warrior pulled the blankets tighter on his companion and swore to pick up an even quicker tempo, dragging the stretcher under the stars all night himself when the horse was no longer up for it. It was how he arrived with him to Castle Black, shouting up at the sentry with the last of his breath, “send a message to the Queen in the North from Tormund Giantsbane immediately! Her brother is dying.” Then he fell to his hands and knees and waited for the guard to come down and pick them up. Jon no longer tensed at being jostled, he was too far gone for that.

Tbc

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Chapter 4: Directional Chess

Nobody really expected Sansa Stark, the unflappable Queen in the North to show up at Castle Black for any reason, that including making a visit by her brother’s bedside, but there she was, arriving as swift as humanly possible, with Maester Wolkan in tow, marching down the corridor purposefully to the room she was told Jon was in. “Am I in time? Is my brother still alive?” She addressed Tormund, who was sitting much like a guard dog alongside Ghost at the entrance.

“Yes. Tougher than nails, that pretty boy. He is still very ill, but he’s now awake at times and even managed to eat and keep down some food,” Tormund looked hopeful as he stepped aside, revealing the bed’s occupant. Jon’s face was ashen, his breaths shaky and difficult, on his scarred, exposed belly there was a cloth that had been dipped in warm water, if judging by the steam that emanated from it.

“So we don’t need to assume the worst after all? Can you help him?” Sansa asked the maester.

“We shall see, Your Grace. What has been done for him so far?” Wolkan addressed Tormund.

“We could only but try to make him more comfortable, by keeping his fever and pain in check.”

“Was he injured somewhere? Tell me exactly what happened, step by step. What is the affliction.”

“Fuck it man, you know what the affliction is like everyone else does! He was forced to kill the one he loves, then got punished for doing the right thing! What do you think the affliction is! He saddened himself deathly ill all on his own!” The wildling took his friend’s side against the slightest perceived threat.

“What are the symptoms I mean,” Wolkan rectified.

“His guts are hurting something awful, it is hard to watch.”

“I’ll still need to know more. How did it all start?”

“I’m not sure, he was hiding it from us. I knew something was ailing him, painfully, but I didn’t know it was his belly till he started curling up round it at night. The longer we rode, the paler and sweatier he became. Everybody could see it. He asked me to kill him, to end the pain that way on the way here, but of course I can’t do that, not when there could be hope!”

“I’ll have to see it for myself,” the maester was tentative as he pulled the cloth away from the patient’s belly and sat a hand on it instead. Jon moaned in discomfort immediately and bit his lips.

“Easy,” Sansa whispered comfortingly, settling on the other side of the bed from the maester and smoothed Jon’s hair down, “I promise you, nobody will harm you while I’m with you,” she took his hand in hers.

“But it can’t be you, your voice...I must be dreaming,” Jon forced himself to open his eyes in disbelief, “Sansa?” He muttered. It was hard to trust his feverish senses and Astera’s herbs not giving him hallucinations. He even thought Daenerys was watching over him, many times.

“But it is,” the woman smiled at him encouragingly, “I’ve come to take you home to Winterfell,” she stressed, “for good.”

“You can’t take me..I’m not asking for it..the exile was a condition of peace for everyone’s sakes..”

“And who will attack us just to cast you back out pray tell? Bran won’t insist, he bothers less and less with the mundane, I was told. You’ve suffered enough. You’re coming home with us.”

“I fear that moving him might make him worse again,” Tormund worried, “the progress he’s made with rest would be a waste.”

“Her Grace has agreed to follow my professional recommendations, whatever they may be,” the Maester assured him while trying to assess Jon’s condition, “moving him will only happen if it is advisable.”

Tbc

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Chapter 5: Loyalty’s Price

Sansa dabbed the sweat off Jon’s forehead herself as she would spend at least an hour with him every day, or more if her duties as Queen in the North allowed. The state of his health only improved slightly and even that little had taken weeks, but at least he made the journey back to Winterfell without complications or the worsening of his illness. The concern was that Jon still ate very little, though nobody could fault him for it as the smallest meal often resulted in vomiting, and cramps that plagued him for hours so much so that Maester Wolkan had to resort to keeping him sedated most of the time. “You could try a little soup maybe?” Sansa offered nevertheless, eyes dark with concern. He had to eat some time.

“It’s not a good time..” Jon closed his eyes, his hand going to his belly to indicate it was hurting too much for taking the chance to upset it again.

“Take a little shaved ice then,” Sansa went by the Maester’s instructions and slipped some into his mouth when the door flew open.

“You Grace!” A guard burst in, all the rest of his manners forgotten, “I’ve seen it My Lady! There’s a dragon out there, circling us like crazy!”

“Give the order for all civilians to go down into the crypts!” The Queen stood, not missing a beat, “catapults and archers at the ready!”

“They say it’s the same dragon that was here before,” Sansa’s maid also joined the messenger, “the late queen’s one!”

“It’s Drogon..” Jon whispered.

“Go get Rollis and Cassio,” the Lady of the House referred to her servants, “we need to carry Jon downstairs, quickly!” She shouted after the departing guard, already on the way to carry out her other orders, “Sophey,” she addressed the maid, “go for Bran’s old wheelchair! Should be somewhere in his old room.”

“I am not going to the crypt,” Jon managed to get to his elbows, “Drogon is here for me. He must be. For vengeance. Let him have it.”

“No. Not while we can still defend Winterfell.”

“You can’t. You weren’t there at King’s Landing during the battle. You don’t know the destruction Drogon can cause on his own,” Jon struggled further to sit, which made him even paler, “you need to let me do this, for your people, our people.”

“Do what exactly?”

“To appease him in whatever way he’d accept. Take me, kill me, punish me.”

“Let’s try and find some alternatives first.”

“Sansa, what life do you think I lead, don’t you see? I don’t mind dying, I crave it instead.”

“Help him up,” Sansa ordered the appearing servants to put him in the wheelchair just as the whole building shook and there were stones falling out of the wall.

“He knows I’m here,” Jon explained as large eyes peeked inside the window. “Carry the wheelchair down the stairs quickly so Drogon knows I’m not hiding away and do it before he destroys the tower,” the ex king urged and the scared servants didn’t waste any time to do so.

Sansa ran behind them, torn between trying to protect her brother and her people, not exactly sure what to do. The giant eye followed them down the stairs, in every window till the wheelchair stood in the courtyard where the dragon sat himself down, making the inhabitants scurry in the direction of the crypt as they’d been told to go. Sansa held her hand up, making sure the guard knew not to shoot so he wasn’t provoked. Drogon seethed some hot breaths, though without the fire, then lowered his head to sniff the invalid. He gave a couple of angry pushes that had Jon fall out the contraption onto the snowy ground, but they weren’t strong enough to cause him more harm than that. The dragon roared up into the sky, then settled and a moment later, he let two dragon eggs roll out from under his wing, landing right in front of Jon.

The Northerner stared at them, unsure, and reached out tentatively, “you want me to have these??” He looked up at the beast confusedly, “that’s why you didn’t kill me, right? Cause I am the last Targaryen? It’s a symbiotic relationship and you need me? Dany explained the theory behind it once to me”

Drogon roared again, warningly, making sure everyone stepped even more back before releasing a huge gulf of fire at Jon, melting snow and scorching structures nearby. But then it all settled quickly and the naked form of the last of his House appeared, his clothes and wheelchair incinerated, but he was otherwise unharmed. On each of his arms, a baby dragon screeched. “He needed me here for the next generation to hatch,” Jon explained to a flabbergasted Sansa.

“And he’ll most likely need you for the next one too,” the Queen in the North sighed her relief, daring to approach once the babies half flew, half jumped over to who they thought was their daddy, “doesn’t Drogon need another dragon to pair up with to produce those eggs?”

“Not necessarily. These could have been laying hidden away for centuries anywhere,” Jon explained with the last of his strength before falling into Sansa’s arms.

“Help him!” Sansa ordered the onlookers as soon as the dragon took flight with the babies. Jon was limp and his eyes closed and the Queen in the North could not tell if he was breathing or not. But then his fist went to his stomach, ailing him even in his unconsciousness.

“Easy,” Maester Wolkan instructed the servants lifting Jon out of Sansa’s arms, “this ordeal might set his recovery weeks back,” he shook his head, “we need to make him a warm bath and bring my crystals!” He put a reassuring hand on his queen’s shoulder, “my treatment worked before, I don’t see why it wouldn’t work now.”

Tbc

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Sixth Sense

Jon moaned, thrashing his head on the pillow, with Sansa looking on desperately, “lie still, let the herbs do their work. You’re the strongest person I know. You have to trust that the pain will lessen again,” she held Jon’s cold hand as she sat by his side on the bed, trying to understand what her cousin-brother was mumbling, but to no avail. It was still better than his screaming in pain, though he was too exhausted to go past whispers by now. Most importantly, at least it wasn’t him calling out for Dany. Sansa didn’t like it when he did that. The Queen in the North was no natural carer and thus knew not how to comfort him, but she did try to shush him softly, holding onto his hand tightly whenever she visited. Yet that in turn, was still better than when he was laying there lifeless and gaunt, a wreck, his curls a tangled, wet mess from his periodic writhing about in pain. Sansa had never seen him so thin before, his ribs visible every time he struggled to draw the next breath. It reminded the Queen in the North of fragile, melting snow, moments from disappearing, like how Melisandre turned to dust, her purpose and with it Jon’s purpose seemingly fulfilled. The White Wolf of Winterfell seemed to have spent the last of his strength, so much so drugging him wasn’t even necessary anymore to have him pass out into unconsciousness. Sansa’s hardened empty heart felt heavy with it in a way she didn’t think she could feel anymore.

Surprising her with its suddenness, Jon whimpered, a tremble going through his whole body. “You did good, Jon,” Sansa wasn’t sure of how else to comfort him, “life can be good now that we have our freedom so please, just hold on.”

“I don’t want to,” the raven haired man gave proof of being aware of his surroundings.

The Stark squeezed his hand, glad that he was conscious despite his words, “I need you, there’s no one else left..”

“I know,” Jon took a steadying breath and opened his eyes, “but what you need me for all of us is to keep Drogon calm.”

“What? I love you as a brother. But do you think he’ll be back?” She startled.

“He is back already. He called out to me, I can hear him, that is what woke me.”

“Hush. Nobody’s heard anything, you’re safe,” Sansa shook her head.

“No. I can hear him inside my head. He’s here and wants me to go out and meet him.” It was just then, as if to certify his words, that the castle wing they were in shook, the same way it had on Drogon’s previous visit. Jon struggled to move, ignoring his searing insides, “help me up.”

“You won’t be able to get up just now. You can barely raise a hand. You’re more ill than last time.”

“Then have the servants carry me down urgently before there’s structure damage to the castle complex!”

Sansa didn’t even need to call out as an usher and a constable were already tripping over each other to report the dragon’s return. There was no time for action however as Drogon did not appear patient, his giant nose already sniffing at the window to reassure himself he was in the right place to locate the Targaryen and knocked the wall right off to get to him, wind, slush and chilling air assaulting the room’s occupants at once. Jon managed to sit up in his alarm, holding a hand out, “aōhon iksan se ñuhon iksā,” he hoped to appease the beast, though he had no idea how High Valerian words could even come out his mouth, but the knowledge came at the same time as his sixth sense for becoming aware of the proximity of dragons before anyone else.

Drogon settled at the ledge he made of the side of the room and only pushed his neck slowly forward to sniff at Jon again. “Skoros ynot epilū?” The last of his House urged the visitor in the interest of everyone and he was not particularly surprised when two more eggs emerged from under those talons. Everyone else also knew the drill by now and they stood back while the bed went up in fire along with all the tapestry till Jon lay bare again in the ashes, little baby dragons jumping about on his shoulders. Drogon sniffed them too, but was more distracted by the naked form, half unconscious and curled up around his stomach, practically seizing with pain. The dragon paused before poking at him, then grabbed hold of him to turn him for access for his tongue to bestow big, slurpy, soothing licks to his abdomen.

“I’m not sure that will help, but I’m sure it would help if you could give him more time to recover between your visits,” Sansa found her voice and her bravery to step closer to the large animal.

“I think it does help,” Jon managed to get himself together and touch Drogon’s face in gratitude, “it is feels like it’s dulling the pain, his saliva.”

“And how many more dragons should there be in the world provided by you?” The Stark frowned at the dragonlings, potential enemies of the kingdom.

“Have faith that they won’t harm us,” the dragonrider felt a whole lot better, though very tired.

“Let’s look at the truth, shall we. You mean they won’t harm your Dragonlord self,” Sansa wasn’t sure about the whole concept, not even that part, but she did grab the curtain from behind her to cover up her cousin. Jon gave a pet to each of the animals in farewell before the little ones took their places for their ride. Drogon was clearly hesitant about taking off and he gave Jon one more healing lick, then took flight.

“We’ll have to move you to a different room immediately,” the Lady of Winterfell was not too happy about the state of the wall, “and we need to have a serious talk about how much of what the dragons are thinking you understand.”

“I promise, but can it be later..” Jon mumbled, exhausted. Now that his belly didn’t hurt as much, he felt able to give in to a healing sleep. Sansa rolled her eyes, but there wasn’t much she could do about her old childhood companion falling asleep in the pile of soot.

Tbc

Glossary:

Aōhon iksan se ñuhon iksā - I am yours and you are mine

Skoros ynot epilū? — What would you ask of me?

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Chapter 7: Guest Strike

Sansa enjoyed the little walks with Jon on the parapets even if they weren’t very long given how quickly Jon ran out of breath and broke out in a sweat no matter how cold it was. But nobody knew the labyrinths of these contraptions all round the castle walls better than the Stark children and Jon was even able to show her a secret passage she had been unaware of before. It was great progress at any case, proving how much dragon spit was healing him and further proof of that symbiosis now Jon was explaining to her the way he’d heard it from the Dragon Queen. All the elements of fire, sacrifice and knowledge of it had to be present before Targaryen magic was born, often in the form of giving life, manifesting in baby dragons or healing. “It was when I understood what Drogon wanted that all of this became possible again.”

“So you think you’re the dragonlings’ mother,” Sansa found that amusing despite the threat the existence of these creatures posed.

Jon stopped to lean on the wooden railing, a little dizziness hitting him and answered in earnest, despite knowing Sansa was jesting, “I don’t think so. They haven’t exactly acted like it. I would like to think I’ll be able to have a say in controlling them, but so far, Drogon hasn’t even brought any one of them back to me,” he panted, needing to sit down.

It didn’t go unnoticed, “we went further today, then before. You shouldn't overexert yourself. Let’s head back now.”

“Give me a moment, I’m too woozy just now, let me rest a bit,” Jon couldn’t even get his thoughts together the way he was shaking with weakness, “what did you say about Drogon?”

“Oh, I was just wondering. He’s been taking good care of you, coming along almost every day to give you those healing licks. People are practically used to him showing up and nobody’s really scared. How long could this last? We have our guard down, it could be dangerous,” Sansa provided a supporting arm to her cousin.

“I don’t think he’d attack us without any reason and I can sense that he needs me for something bigger too. He’s raring to let me ride him, take me somewhere, but he knows I’m not well enough yet, that’s why he tries to rush my recovery.” Jon didn’t look all that recovered however, with his ridiculous tottering and his swimming head.

“Rodner!” Sansa spotted one of her pages down below, “come up at once, Jon needs some help!” She eased the ex King down to the wooden planks under their feet and propped him against a pole, “I’m sorry, this was a mistake.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jon was thankful he could close his eyes a little as his head was spinning, which made his nausea rise.

“Well there, Drogon would not be happy with your performance today if he’s really in such a hurry to make you do something, whatever it is,” Sansa jested sardonically on the back of something that could in fact be serious.

“You may want to stand back a bit,” the warrior held a hand to his mouth, “I’ve been eating better than usual these last couple of days.” He held his other hand up in the direction of the arriving Rodner and some of the other locals arriving to be helpers, “moving right now is not a good idea.”

Sansa mirrored the gesture, “give us a moment please, but don’t go far,” he sat down next to her cousin, “take your time. There’s no honour in suffering needlessly. Whatever you need, I’ll make sure you get it.” There was that tiny guilt in her that told her that he should have had the throne in Winterfell, but of course she would never openly admit that even to herself.

“I’ll just take your help, nobody else’s,” Jon leaned his spinning head on her shoulder, as exhausted as he was embarrassed in front of these people. It felt grounding, yet it also felt like his head and his head only was floating on top of a cloud.

“Get the Maester,” Sansa mouthed at Rodner. “Jon, let us take care of you. What do you need? Tell me. I can send for the pain relieving potions.” While he had been gradually getting better, she knew how severe some of his turns got even so.

“I don’t want them or anyone.”

“Why? I can see how much your stomach’s cramping from the way you curl up. Tell me to my face I’m wrong! Now that Maester Wolkan got the balance right, the potions have been helping you get better a lot quicker.”

“It’s good when it hurts this bad, it takes my mind off what I did and how it makes me feel.”

“But that is madness, hurting yourself like that! Idiot. You did what you had to, to save us all!”

“I don’t want the help,” he curled up even more.

“Alright then, you stubborn bull. Let’s maybe swap some bad sensations with good ones, you can’t possibly be against that?” She slid a hand under his fur coat to soothe his belly with her touch. Tormund had been right, it was very hard to watch him torture himself like this. Flattening her palm out, she gently rubbed it horizontally over his churning belly.

“The cramps are coming,” he explained why he hunched over her soothing, helpful hand.

Sansa checked his temperature as well, “you’re feeling warmer than you should be. I shouldn’t have asked you to come up here.”

“It’s not your fault at all. I came willingly as I was fed up with the bed and the four walls myself,” he sounded exhausted nevertheless.

“Do you feel like you can get up yet? I’d rather have you in bed in between those four walls, just to be safe and unseen. I don’t want Drogon’s anger for not taking care of you,” she disguised the genuine care she did feel for some reason.

“Yes, but just you,” he pressed his lips together, ready for the effort and held onto her arm in preparation for her support.

Sansa once again had to gesture the onlookers to stay back and give them privacy instead of help before steadying him to get him carefully to his feet. He wasn’t heavy to handle, not at all, not after how much weight he had lost over the last few months, but it was hard to keep him balanced. She could tell he was severely dizzy from the way he leant against her. “I won’t let you fall,” Sansa felt like reassuring him, secretly hoping she could so she would not be caught in a lie and he wouldn’t fall over the railing and down onto the stones below. It was a relief when they finally reached the door to the halls, though walking round the castle to get to his room was still a challenge and took them a fair while, with Jon stopping over and over for a breath or steadying himself on the wall when a cramp hit again. Sansa felt just as uncomfortable, it was torture of the heart and rather scary how quickly his condition could change. “You need to take a little water, you’re very pale,” the Queen in the North was thankful they finally reached the bed he simply fell onto, not able to stand the pain any longer. “Easy,” Sansa held the cup for him as she didn’t trust his shaking hands.

“The pot,” Jon indicated his need by a moan only after a few sips.

“Alright, alright, ugh, didn’t want to get you sick,” Sansa excused her thinking, set the cup down on the table and produced the chamber pot instead that she put under his chin now.

Jon swallowed a few times, even paler than before, but then he took a big breath and shook his head, indicating that the moment had passed and he would no longer need the pot. “Just in case you need it,” Sansa left the pan on the bed next to him as she watched his eyes droop.

Tbc

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: The Real World

These ups and downs and false starts continued for some more weeks, but it was clear that whatever Drogon was providing was working. The sight of the dragon became almost commonplace within the walls of Winterfell so much so that children did not run for shelter anymore. Ghost took to following him everywhere, peppered with sniffs of each other on a regular basis. Drogon seemed to be on a mission to get Jon better as soon as possible and wasn’t particularly patient in making him understand that he wanted the Targaryen to ride him. It was for small circles above at first, then higher and higher, but still coming back after disappearing on the horizon, knowing that his rider wasn’t ready for a longer journey just yet. Then he gave Jon a few days rest, and the next time he mounted him, he enticed Ghost to ride with them and they did not come back. The Northerners waited, looking out into the distance every morning, but no large animal was visible in the skies. Jon left without a goodbye really, but Sansa assumed he didn’t know himself he was going away for that long.

The Dragonlord was sure Drogon tried his best not to make him have to hold on for too long, but even at his fastest speed, getting to Volantis took them almost a full day and by then, Jon’s stomach was starting to give signs of relapse. Jon threw up somewhere into the sea and Drogon’s response was to provide a smoother ride from then on and soon, the fires of a giant Red Temple became visible. The Northerner dismounted in front of the numerous empty steps, taking his time to find his landlegs, not being able to let go of the dragon just yet. There were so many steps leading up to the Temple that Jon did not wonder why Drogon didn’t settle at the bottom instead. They’ve also bypassed the Fiery Hand this way. “Tell me, are you here of your own free will?” Kinvara startled the newcomer.

“How else would I be here?” Jon attempted to straighten up with a wince he could not suppress.

“Are you aware of why you’re here? Of your role?”

“Could maybe be one of those prophecies. After everything, I can’t really discount them.”

“Then you would be right. Daenerys Stormborn is still the one who was promised, sent to give the people hope against the darkness.”

“I don’t quite understand what you mean..”

“You will. Terrible things only happen for a reason. Come,” Kinvara gestured him to follow through the pointed arch of the gate into a red pillared gallery, but instead of going down any of the long corridors, the woman led him with calm, measured footsteps to a set of stairs leading down into the belly of the building, where a pulpit lay in the middle of a tiled room. Atop of it, Daenerys was laid out in the same clothes he had last seen her in, her skin as white as it has been at the moment of her bleeding out, with her silver-gold hair neatly combed and arranged around her.

Jon faltered, “but is she not..?”

“Dead? Yes, she is. There’s no doubt that you have killed her,” the priestess sounded merciless in her accusation, clearly not in favour of his deeds, “but Drogon brought her to me immediately and I was able to put her in a state where she would not deteriorate. I must admit, I cannot raise her, not like Melisandre would be able to, but there is a way for her to be alive if the one who killed her is here.”

“To give my life for hers?” Jon guessed, “anything, I’ll do it,” he said without as much as a blink.

Kinvara put up a hand, “you need to be entirely willing to give your life essence.”

“I am,” the Northerner didn’t hesitate one moment, “isn’t that the same thing?”

“No, not exactly the same.”

“I don’t care about semantics.”

“That’s not what it is.”

“Either way, do it now. I can’t suffer any more of this guilt pulling me down,” he said matter-of-factly. Nothing mattered to him anymore.

“Boy, it isn’t an exact science.” While Kinvara looked young, she was no such thing. “The Queen’s body needs to be cleaned and washed again and I need a lock of both of your hairs for the incantation.”

Jon reacted by pulling his dagger out to cut some of his hair, then moved over to the other Targaryen, weapon in hand, which made him pause at the last moment, hand hovering over her shining hair. He had to convince himself that this was an entirely different situation where he had to raise his blade to her person, but even so, it felt just as painful cutting one of her locks off as it had been plunging the dagger into her heart. His own heart wanted to seize beating and immediately so. The blood of the dragon does not weep, something told him he didn’t understand, but that Targaryen blood has been speaking to him all along for some time. Turning, he placed both locks into the priestess’ hand, black mingling with white, “from my part, I’m ready.”

“I’m not,” Kinvara almost rolled her eyes, “to have hope that the magic will work, we will need all of the sources present. Your direwolf and all the dragons. I will get the body ready and have her brought up for you out to the roof where everyone can fit. And still, I can give you no guarantees that it will work. Until then, I suggest you cleanse yourself too. Myna will give you the appropriate scented candles and herbs for the task.”

It was only now that Jon noticed another priestess standing by the door. “Just hurry up, will you,” he really wanted it all over with. It was not like he ever feared death. Nothingness, now that would be a real respite from all the killing and death.

Tbc

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Ceremonial Rites

Even dead, Daenerys was beautiful as she lay amongst the chaotic wild greenery of the roof garden above the golden dome of the Temple. Jon was grateful to be able to see her in one of the colours he associated with her, an azure blue and white lace dress that highlighted her hair. The Sun was just about to go down and Jon had been urged to join the priestesses and beasts standing in a circle round the Queen as the celestial body’s presence could also be helpful in gathering enough magic to wake the sleeping Dragonqueen. Not that he needed any encouragement. He had no doubts in his mind that Dany deserved another chance and could get it right without the immediate sorrow of losing her loved ones weighing on her mind. “Sit down beside her, put your hand on her heart and wish for her to be hale, for the damage done by you to disappear and do not stop, no matter what,” the Red Priestess in charge of the temple instructed him, “don’t worry about the rest, we will do what we can to receive the gift of the Lord of Light,” she held on to her Asshai'i necklace of a distinctive elongated hexagon design.

Jon gave her a nod before settling beside his lover, “I wrote her a letter, to account for my actions, my fears, my temporary confusion. If she wants to read it, you can find it in my room I was given..” His eyes were drawn to those lips he had been kissing before her last moments. The site of his betrayal. So it felt to him like the right place to start regardless of what he was told and he leaned over to share the warmth of his lips with her cold ones and only after that did he place a shaky hand over her heart, over the gaping wound and closed his eyes. If they really could wake her, he had no wishes to see her accusing eyes before his own demise. He felt Ghost right behind him, and Drogon’s fiery breaths singeing his hair, priestess voices all around, “zyhys oñoso jehikagon Aeksiot epi, se gis hen syndrorro jemagon.
Zyhys perzys stepagon Aeksio Oño jorepi, se morghultas lys qelitsos sikagon.
Hen syndrorro, oños. Hen ñuqir, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson.” Then he knew no more.

“Azor Ahai! Your Grace!” Daenerys found her hand in Kinvara’s as she looked around with dazed eyes after pushing Jon’s pressing body off of her. All around, priestesses knelt and Drogon snuck through to lick her head while Ghost sheltered his own master.

The Queen squinted in confusion as she touched her chest and took in the clothes she was dressed in, “what happened to me?”

“There’s a lot we need to tell you, Your Grace,” the High Priestess calmed her, “but there’s too much to cover all at once. Perhaps you should get some rest first, to get used to your new situation.”

“My new situation? But who rules Westeros?” Dany was quick on the ball.

“Brandon Stark. Badly I may say. His lack of emotion, his lack of empathy and understanding of humankind makes him highly unsuitable for the role. He has no place in the prophecies.”

Dany stood with her dragon’s help, giving him a scratch under his jaw in thanks. Brandon Stark ruling sounded very unlikely and somewhat laughable, but right now, she had other concerns, her gaze going to the man’s form lying at her feet, “Jon killed me. He’s truly succeeded in doing so.” She said it out loud, just so she knew whether it was true and not some vivid nightmare.

“Yes, but he regrets it fully and he came willingly to give his life for yours.”

Daenerys stood a little, regarding him without a word before, “so he is dead?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, she wasn’t sure how she felt about anything.

Kinvara regarded Jon for a while, but didn’t go down to his level, “as it stands, it seems that he is tethering on the edge between life and death. Without Ghost being here, he wouldn’t have had a chance, but I’m not sure it’s enough. He gave his life essence, but there’s plenty of magic keeping him around.”

“I really don’t understand,” Dany mumbled. She couldn’t deal with that and there’s so much she had to deal with. Mourning everyone and everything she was sure was gone, the horror of realising how far she could go when driven into a state of madness and with it, also came a flooding sense of guilt of being alive. It was too much. None of those present were surprised when she looked around confusedly, then clang onto the only sure thing she knew, Drogon’s friendship and climbed onto his back, “valahd,” she urged him to fly and be away from it all somewhere.

tbc

Glossary:

Zyhys oñoso jehikagon Aeksiot epi, se gis hen syndrorro jemagon. - We ask the Lord to shine his light, and lead a soul out of darkness.
Zyhys perzys stepagon Aeksio Oño jorepi, se morghultas lys qelitsos sikagon. - We beg the Lord to share his fire, and light a candle that has gone out.
Hen syndrorro, oños. Hen ñuqir, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson. - From darkness, light. From ashes, fire. From death, life.
Valahd - horizon (Dothraki)

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Moonless Terrors

Kinvara woke early as she always did with the added responsibility of having to watch over Jon Snow. She regularly bestowed incantations on him, along with anointing his abdomen with healing oils and keeping the incense alight, but other than that, there wasn’t much she could do, other than hope that the direwolf and the baby dragons’ close presence will keep him alive till his body was ready to recover. She wasn’t surprised to find somebody tending to him already, many of the priestesses did, but she was a little startled to see that this time it was Daenerys sitting with him, changing the compress on his abdomen. While Kinvara knew that the two Targaryens had to forgive each other for the prophecies to come true, she did not expect Daenerys to be back yet, never mind being gentle with Jon. “I’ve been to Mereen, to the Isle of Naath and the Dothraki Sea,” Dany sensed her presence, “I’ve been brought up to date with what has happened everywhere in my absence. I read his letter. I understand he blames himself for my burning the city because he distanced himself from me. The distance did me good, I could think about everything. But I still don’t know what happened to Jon while I was lying here at the Temple.”

The high ranking priestess sat on the stairs leading down into the room, “not much happened to Jon. Till Drogon brought him hope, he was ill with guilt for most of the time, severely and bedridden at that. It is why it will be so hard for him to recuperate. The little spark of life essence he has left in him is not enough to overpower all that, not without help.”

“Is there anything I can do to help him?”

“You want to help him? If you don’t mind me asking, why Your Grace?” It was how it was supposed to be, but Kinvara needed to know so she knew how far they were from the prophecies coming true.

“Would it be foolish to say I still love him? I value your advice. His letter, he says he still does too.”

“It is indeed hard to rule over one’s own heart. Have you forgiven him then?”

“Does it have to be about that? I don’t want to think about that. Maybe, once I talked to him about it. My dreams came true and I lost them because I know I wasn’t myself. But I can’t talk to him while he’s still so ill. That is why.”

Kinvara nodded in understanding, “you are the only person in a real position to be able to make him well. Just be with him. Tend to him. Tell him how you feel. He will hear it and will want to come back to you.”

“He suffers so..he doesn’t deserve this..” Dany took in his crinkled forehead, his pain marred face and fists that squeezed periodically, fingers entangled in the sheets.

“Say that to him. He will sense your presence,” the priestess encouraged further, “I shall leave you two alone..you were already on the right track before I arrived,” she gestured towards the herbs infused water she used for the compress.

Dany reached out to his forehead on instinct. It seemed sweaty and warmer than it should have been, a stark opposite to how it was when they’ve last been in the same situation with Jon unconscious on the ship sailing the Narrow Sea, when she was hoping to be able to warm him up after him almost freezing to death. Jon moaned uncomfortably when she replaced the compress on his stomach with a colder one from the bowl set out for this purpose and she wondered again if it helped him at all. But the more she tended to him, the more she realised that he seemed unsettled and jittery even without having the energy to move and that the only time he seemed somewhat at peace was when she was holding his hand or smoothing his hair out his face. His pained moans quietened too then and his breath deepened, giving him a chance for a proper rest. But it was unsustainable to stay like that with him day and night, so she eventually decided to climb up onto the bed, settle against him, hold his hand against her cheek with hers. She hesitated to kiss his fingers as she would have wanted, his previous rejections of her physical advances still raw in her mind, but then, didn’t his letter explain everything, his wish to take a stand and ignore their family relation in favour of their love. Yes, she was quite sure she could plant a soft kiss to the back of his hand. Dany turned her head then and buried her face into his curls. It seemed to calm him further and without him stirring or making much noise, they both fell into a deep sleep.

Tbc

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: Firm Stand

As it often was, the relentless cramping of his stomach finally brought Jon to half-awareness once more. Giving his life force or whatever the priestess called it, has set him back to how he had been somewhere towards at the beginning of his illness. It was a state he hated the most as he was too weak to do much else than moan and toss his head weakly. His movements appeared further hindered this time by something however, so he strained to focus his bleary eyes to find himself wrapped fully in Daenerys’ arms. Because that was unlikely, he put it down to a hallucination of his pained oblivion and closed his eyes again so he could hopefully fall back into a largely unfeeling state, his refuge of late. He did however nestle closer because why not take advantage of a dream that was pleasant for once, linger in it a little more. Strangely, the dream goddess beside him responded to his moans by smoothing his raven hair, “you have to come back to me Jon Snow, come back..”

Jon tried to shake his grogginess off to see for himself what was happening, but all he managed was his shaky hand reaching for her, trying to convince himself of her presence. It was rewarded with little hands catching his, shaking just the same as his, “fight for me, Jon. I want to see it. I need to see it. I need to believe you’re still mine if you ever were.”

He shook his head, “it hurts too much..” It was true, but it was also easier to say than opening his eyes to face the bottomless pit he had dug between them.

“Alright, it’s alright,” she soothed, hovering a hand uncertainly over Jon’s stomach, “what do I do?”

“Go build your kingdom. Take back what you lost, what you deserve. That will help me too,” he whispered, the guilt in his voice hard to miss.

“It all means nothing without someone to share, without someone to see it, someone that matters.”

“But you have to. The nobles in all of Westeros already figured out they can get away with any atrocities against their people because Bran does not care.”

“I can’t help but think that it is your mess. So if you broke it, it is your job to fix it,” Daenerys accused, “and you will help me do so if nothing else,” she established firmly, focussed on deeds, “I know you were very ill for a long time. So tell me, what can I do to get you better?”

Jon had to get his strength together to answer, as much as physically as mentally and spiritually, take in that she wasn’t as mad with him as he had expected, “your hand, if you could put your hand on my belly, it would help.” No way he was going to tell her of Sansa’s massages.

“Here? Like this?” Dany was gentle as she placed her hand on his scarred, bare abdomen. She waited a few moments then, leaning over him. “Jon? Can you open your eyes?”

He was quite sure of that, so he nodded, but it took him some moments to gather the courage to do so as he didn’t want the mirage to disappear and his favourable conversation with Dany to have been a dream. Why was this harder than going into any battle he’s been in? But she was so close, he felt her with each of his senses, it had to be true. He couldn’t take it if it wasn’t, he would die there and then. Slowly, he raised an arm to touch her, trail over her arm and shoulder, right to her chest. Her beating heart. Sure, there was a scar there, there always would be now, same as his and it was his fault. It was that he had to see first, rubbing a finger over the uneven skin. She trailed his hand there, grabbing it, forcing him to look her in the eyes, both pairs wetly glinting from tears. “I should have thought of something else to stop you, something less grievous, trust you would come back to your senses. I was too rash, I’m sorry.”

“I am told there were plenty out there wanting to kill me on the spot. Your sister was not far off. It’s better this way. Who would doubt a resurrected Dragonlord!” Dany sounded dreamy and plotting already. Jon wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, but then she added, “or two.”

“I love you, Dany, that never changed, not for a moment,” Jon felt important to say, to provide her with the support he failed to give her before, “you are my Queen and you will always be.”

Daenerys couldn’t help the sceptical rise of the eyebrow as he had said that many times before and yet.. “Kinvara says it was your guilt that made you deathly ill,” she demanded an explanation that would hopefully lead to a narrowing of the abyss between their differences.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I do know that I could think of nothing else. It replayed under my eyelids every time I closed them, churned my heart how it felt. I would have given everything to take it back.”

“You were right you know, in your letter. If I didn’t think you’d abandoned me, if you rode beside me, it would have been different, we could have decided together, what to do.”

“I will now, I vow to you that I won’t leave your side, never again.”

Another sceptical eyebrow was coming, “a small inconvenience, you would have to get better for that.”

“I want to, no matter, I will,” Jon pulled her down in his blind eagerness for a desperate kiss. He could not promise anything with such an act, ever, for his betrayal, but he could propel himself into the present, console himself with the comfort, ignoring all constraints and past regressions, as if that moment was all they had and nothing else mattered. Jon felt a great relief when Dany responded to his kiss and it mattered not if her reaction was of the same order, for comfort, or in fact if she would retaliate with stabbing him in the heart on this turn. She pulled closer however, covering him with her body, the weeks of his rejection of her ever since Winterfell intensifying her hunger for what she’d missed, having the one she loved in her arms. Was it possible for everything to be fine now? She had been humiliated and raped by Drogo and yet she came to love him. With Jon, it was different and yet not so different at all because she loved him despite everything. The same as him, she didn’t want to let go, give up this bodily contact and face anything beyond it, including any more thoughts.

He responded by encircling her with his arms possessively, craving her as much as he craved her absolution. His hands worked on their own accord, pulling her gown off her shoulders, down her breasts, having skin against skin. They paused in their kissing then, looking into each other’s eyes before reconfirming with it that they both wanted this, everything else be damned. She leaned in for the next kiss as proof, hard, eager, true, while her hand reached for his manhood under the covers, wrapping her fingers around it, demanding its attention. Neither of them would spoil the moment with any talk, not even a love declaration would have fitted, but their heavier and heavier breathing made up for it, along with their hungry moans. She straddled him in a familiar manner, her little knees keeping him prisoner, the large parasol of her loose hair covering his entire upper body. He would do anything she wanted, but at this point in time, going back to the familiar was what comforted them both. His cock slipped into her just as naturally and he started rocking her up and down with some strength he didn’t know he possessed right now ill as he was, holding onto her thighs as if they were his anchor to life, to any possibility of happiness. Only problem was that with their increasing speed it would be over way too quickly...no, he didn’t deserve any of this, not her attentions, not her inclination to forgive him, not her love, not even her presence..and with that thought, the cramping came back like a tidal wave, along with the nausea and weakness.

Jon froze, letting out a completely different kind of moan, his hands pulling up so he could dig his fists into his agonized belly and swallowed compulsively, “stop, please..I’m gonna be..” More he couldn’t say as his convulsing belly tried to get rid of something that wasn’t there because his stomach only contained bile and spit. His world tilted into a fuzzy dance, then that accentuated some more when he felt Dany support him and guide him to have his head over the side of the bed. She was talking to him reassuringly. He couldn’t hear the words exactly over his fuzzy connection to reality, but it was for sure that she had to hold onto him hard to stop him from tumbling out of the bed. The dry heaves hurt so much more than having something to throw up, but he couldn’t tell her that either. Then eventually, her surprisingly steady hands guided him back onto the pillows, gags be damned. The stable support behind his head helped a little, though the nausea was still strong and his stomach felt like being ripped apart by angry beasts. He knew that he had scared her and that she was panicking as a result, but he could do nothing more at this moment in time than fall unconscious.

Tbc

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: Take Four

Jon became vaguely aware that there was someone in the room with him, but he knew that working his way to full awareness would sooner or later result in more agony and unwanted memories, so he simply let his mind do whatever it wanted in terms of levels of consciousness and not force coming to. Eventually though, the pain inevitably flooded into the forefront of his awareness and at this point, he just wanted to die. He couldn’t bear this any longer. But it seemed like someone was pleading with him, stroked his cheek. He didn’t deserve that either, not this care, not from those delicate fingers. There was also a hand holding a compress to his belly and he was on his side, his head in somebody’s lap, in Dany’s lap. He felt like throwing up again. It would have been completely in Daenerys’ right to retaliate, to kill him, not brush his hair back with her fingers, sush his every moan, smooth out his every cramp. Not beg with him, “try a little water again, Jon, you have to, please. You can do it.”

He wouldn’t say no to her, not under the circumstances, even if he knew he would throw it all up in just a few moments. So he let her tip a cup to his lips, swallowed a couple of times obediently. Dany sighed in hopeful relief as he was conscious enough to do that for the first time in over a day, “Jon, please listen to me. You don’t need to do this, torture yourself. You are forgiven. What’s more, I understand your actions. I was lost. With you by my side, it will never happen again.”

“Don’t..” Jon managed to make his hoarse throat work enough for that, turning away, “I didn’t want to..”

“I know you didn’t. It’s alright. If we look back, we get lost. Just know that it had to be this way. You wanted a world of mercy. Then take my forgiveness. All you have to do is to take it. Let’s build this world already! It was our destiny, together. It is still our destiny, of the blood of old Valyria, it can’t happen without one another, don’t you understand? You are the blood of the dragon, it makes sense why Drogon always liked you. You have been punished enough for your mistake and so have I for mine, we have given our penance, we have crossed all obstacles testing us.”

“Maybe so..” His stomach hurt too much to think, to consider what he just heard being the truth. He moved his slack hand to his belly, too sluggish even for his own liking. Yes, that little water wanted to come out now. Jon groaned, having enough of a presence of mind and strength to raise his head and not be sick right into her lap.

“Have faith, I’ll take care of you,” Dany eased him back down, “we can live in my world.”

“What if I don’t get better, Your Grace. What if I can’t.”

“You will, Jon. Don’t ever presume otherwise. My heart breaks to see you like this. I just want you hale, by my side,” she gave him a small smile. “Anything that helps?”

“You are already doing it,” he smoothed over her hand on his stomach.

“It really helps?” The woman was incredulous. While she was no ordinary woman, it’s not like it could have medicinal values.

“It does. A lot,” Jon claimed, though his erratic breathing didn’t seem to confirm it.

“How could that be?”

“Right now, because it takes my mind off the pain under it.”

“That wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for,” Dany was a little taken aback.

“Just keep doing it,” Jon swallowed, obviously battling with a new bout of nausea, “tell me of your plans, what is right, of us together.”

“I haven’t thought too far ahead. I want to live in Mereen, at least for a little while. I felt safe there. The people love me there and I know how to raise dragons there. They might need me there as new social structures tend not to last. I’m sure once King’s Landing finds out of my fate, they will not want to wait with taking some action till the baby dragons grow more.”

“A fair assumption,” the raven haired man winced as he made the mistake of moving and trying to settle himself more comfortably in her lap.

“Oh Jon,” Dany drew her hand soothingly through his hair with a sympathetic smile, “do you feel better at all? Since I’m back here with you.”

“I don’t know. I think so..” It wasn’t a lie because emotionally, he felt a lot more centered, though his stomach did not get the message, “but I’m so tired Dany..” He groaned, a shiver going through him.

“Hey, hey,” she leaned over him to press a kiss to the side of his forehead soothingly, “of course you are, you take no sustenance. But it’s alright, I can wait till you can, no rush. We’re safe here. I command you to promise me you will let me make you feel better.”

“You have my promise,” Jon would do anything to satisfy her.

“Then drink it,” Dany reached for the cup despite his previous objections and angled it to his lips.

The minute movement of accommodating the action by tilting his head already caused him to wince and become faint, and spill some of the liquid in doing so, but Dany persevered till the half filled cup was completely empty. “No objections, you need it,” she warned, “now you keep it down,” she ordered firmly as if it were something up to him. Jon hugged himself all the same, cradling his stomach and taking measured breaths. He was going to keep it down, there was a reason to fight now.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 13: Plot Shape

As usual, the room was silent apart from the patient’s laboured breathing. Ever since Dany’s talk with Kinvara, the Targaryens have mainly been left to their own devices to mend and complete each other, provided they had enough sustenance and any medicinal substances they required. Danerys had spent the last few days watching Jon sleep curled on his side, listening to his uneven breathing that sped up each time his stomach cramped, but that also gave her the chance, forced her to reconfirm her feelings for him. She knew she loved him too much, that she hated seeing him suffer. Jon on his part, didn’t always sleep when he stayed silent and unmoving. His luck was hard to believe and he swore to keep his promises. Taking water was only the beginning, he would drink whatever he was given, soup or medicine or take a little tender meat, no matter the stabs of pain that wrecked his belly as a result. And slowly, but surely, his attendants have been right, he had more strength to move now, stand if nature’s needs had to be taken care of. They haven’t tried to mate again, not yet, and there was no doubt of the reason why, that Dany wanted to give him the chance to recover first, but he knew he wanted to let her know in action and not written words that he did not feel disgusted by their family connection. With a little struggle and ignoring the pain shooting through his midsection, he slid up against the headboard against the pillows and held his hand out for her to take. The embrace was inviting and Dany took her place with a smile, glad he was more mobile and responsive to the treatment now. Their kiss was a natural extension of the hug, lingering, exploring, yearning. They parted slowly too, holding close. “We should stop. We can wait till you’re better,” Daenerys took into consideration their previous attempt at intimacy.

“No, it’s overdue,” Jon was ashamed of having rejected her a number of times before. Nobody should think he makes false promises. He captured her lips with his own once again before she could object, hands cupping the back of her neck, trailing down her shoulder under the straps of her dress. Her fingers were drawn similarly to the opening of his shirt, sliding under, freeing more flesh. Their lips did not want to part and Dany figured they could stop later again if he was in pain.

“Take it off,” the Northerner whispered, eying the queenly garment eagerly. It had wraparounds so complicated they could puzzle a scholar.

Dany’s eyes laughed softly. She sat up and before Jon could do much more than blink, her naked breasts stood before him. Daenerys paused there for a moment, knowing he’d appreciate it, then covered his torso with those breasts, sliding them up and down teasingly while kissing him again, his lips, his jaw, his shoulders. His bulge teased her abdomen in turn, making her take a big breath in anticipation, her hips wriggling in the direction of accommodating his cock. She didn’t want to rush him this time however, not wanting a repeat of their previous fiasco, so she simply continued to cover him with kisses, down his chest and reaching his delicate stomach.

They gave him chills and of the good kind this time. He wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the rapture and watch her devour him at the same time. It reminded him of simpler times, days they’ve spent not leaving their bed on her ship, neither bothering with any clothes, a time of devotion, promises and certainty they haven’t had the chance to replicate since. Licking down the side of yet another scar in a familiar fashion, she reached his navel and swirled her tongue around it before slowly trailing a line down to his straining manhood. She teased it with gentle trails up and down at first before reaching the tip that she also licked lighty, in an infuriatingly teasing manner. She only took him into her mouth slowly, by which point he was a squirming mess, unable to voice any objections he may have wished to. Heat pooled in his belly and this time it didn’t feel wrong, it didn’t set off the precarious balance of his abdominal organs, did not put too much strain on his weakened system. As good as it was to have her soft lips working his manhood, it wasn’t what he’d promised her, what he felt he was obligated to give. With his fingers to her jaw, he prompted her up the same time as he moved and pulled her back atop of himself in a swift motion like there was nothing wrong with him till the outside of her clit met his standing erection, its girth now teasing the curved outer lips of her cunt. It made her hiss in pleasure, head thrown back, eyes closing. With the help of the knowledge of those days they’ve spent in each other’s arms, he moved her slowly up and down, intensifying her desire for the pressure of his hard length inside her.

Of course, she needed no such encouragement. All concerns aside, she rose to hover above his manhood and impale herself on it. Jon gave a groan and a shiver and Dany had the presence of mind to check if he was still well enough to continue, but all he was doing was moving her up and down, stroking hard, a finger clamped to the tip of her clit, not leaving any space unstimulated. Jon arched up to suck her nipples, envelop her breasts with wet kisses, burying his face between them where he became aware of the background feeling of his stomach being uncomfortable given the physical strain it was not ready for, but he pressed it down and concentrated on their strokes being forceful, his teeth giving some extra stimulation on her shoulder. He had to give her this, show his devotion, his stomach be damned. Tuned into her needs, he let his seed spill inside her when he felt her reaching her edge, her nails digging hard into his back, her head falling against his chest. He held her for while, to instinctually take them back once more to safety of the memory of their togetherness, a place they could trust and relax and be one.

It was a while before she pulled back a little to smile at him, though her expression immediately changed when she noticed his paleness, “are you alright? What is it?”

“Can we lie down for a bit?” Jon suppressed a wince shyly.

“Yeah, yes, of course,” Dany realised what was going on and supported his back as they went down. She didn’t settle on his chest, but rubbed a hand against his belly with only using slight pressure, watching his reactions the whole time, “I knew it was too early for your exercises.”

He shook his head, “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. It will be fine, I promise,” he pulled her down against his side, smoothing her hair out the way for her comfort.

“Are you sure? You don’t need a sick bowl?” She fretted, still unsettled over having maybe set his recovery back again.

“Seriously? Not if you don’t want to go for another round right away,” he was clearly jesting.

Dany let out a sigh of relief, “then you really are feeling better!”

“I promised you I will be,” Jon nodded, continuing to ignore the tightening of his insides. It was progress after all. Only a few days before, he wouldn’t have been able to satisfy her. In celebration, he rested his head against his lover’s, finally feeling like he could relax because he was close to home, trusting that whatever bridge there was left between them to cross they could cross together.

“Tell me you love me.” Daenerys breathed reverently, must’ve been going along a similar string of thoughts.

“I do. I love you so much,” Jon did not hesitate to squeeze her against himself, his whisper tingling her creamy skin up close and then planting an emotionally charged kiss, overflowing with yearning to the side of her temple. His hand on her chest, he felt her heart speeding up at his admission and saw the smile deepen on her countenance. It was the best feeling in the world.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 14: Spring Frolic

‘She is so beautiful, and she’s all mine,’ Jon marvelled at the beauty before him for the hundredth time, Dany’s hard nipples under his palm calling out for attention. Enthralled, the Northerner dug his fingers into the soft flesh the same way as his manhood was enveloped by the way the blonde angled her hips. He followed his fingers up with devouring her with his lips, pulling at the skin on her shoulder in rhythm with him sliding deeper in and out of her accommodating core like nothing else mattered. It didn’t really. Not till she arched back, relying on him to hold her, even while her insides spasmed around him, causing him to spill his seed inside her, the wave of pleasure making him groan and clutch her against him wildly with desperation, like the first time, like on the boat, like the first time after her resurrection, like ever over the last few years of them ruling over Mereen.

“Good morning to you too, husband,” Dany raised her head to smile at him, then rested her forehead on his shoulder to catch her breath.

Jon ran his fingers through her hair idly, not eager to leave the comfort of their sleeping chamber, the sensation of her naked skin against his. But then he remembered, “I promised Jora I will go out and let her ride Egan on her own today.”

“What?” She slapped at his shoulder in jest, “your daughter has you round her little finger, you know that?”

“I was going to discuss it with you first, it wouldn’t feel right not to. Do you think she’s too young for it?”

“No, I trust you to guide her and the dragons would defend her with their lives, but Egan. Why the youngest of all our dragons? I don’t know if he’s ready.”

“They are already bonded, there’s nothing any of us can do about it. And I’m pretty sure that sooner or later they would sneak off in the middle of the night. I’d rather be there when they take flight.”

Dany pursed her lips, her usual determination and self-assuredness a little off kilter when it came to their precious child. It hasn’t been an easy pregnancy. It incapacitated her for one and she was quite sure that the child’s survival in the end was also due to the blessing of the abundance of their dragons of late, the magic of the flying animals permeating the very air with vibrance around the whole palace. Four years on and she was pregnant again, which made her even more emotional and reluctant to take any chances. “But we should both be there.”

“Don’t you have a delegation from the Summer Islands arriving today.” They both knew those people were important for rebuilding her army.

“I should spend more time with Jora. I can’t pretend I don’t know that she doesn’t even ask for me anymore.”

“I’m sorry. But it is because she knows you’re busy and the importance of your responsibilities for your people.”

Dany smiled, dreamy and proud, “she is already learning the ways to rule.” She sighed, “but I want to be there when you teach her the next time how to fight.”

Jon laughed, “I believe you’ve told me before that watching my muscles move increases your appetite,” he teased, “in every way,” he ticked her side.

“Well, that’s one reason,” she smirked, “it is refreshing seeing you so strong and hale of late,” she smoothed a hand over his abdominals in appreciation. Even better, were the lively twinkles that have returned into his chocolate eyes. His recovery had been way too long and his stomach could still be delicate at times, but all in all, they were the luckiest people in the world. With that certainty behind her, she was ready to face the day and set her feet down onto the marble floor, the view of her kingdom visible through the balcony at that level, pyramids and narrow, twisty alleys, markets and bathhouses, olive trees and cedars all along the bay. It was not just truly beautiful and magical, but she felt a certain connection to it, it was where she’d been the happiest, it was home. “Do you miss the North?” She wondered.

“I have all that I need in this world, right here,” he took her in his arms again, standing himself to get ready for the day. Surely Jora was up by now and asking her nanny if she could come in yet.

“You don’t need all of Westeros.” She stated the obvious in a reverent whisper.

“I never did. I didn’t ask to be king.”

“But to take it all back, it is our birthright,” it sounded like she was in fact arguing with herself more than anything else, “it is Jora’s inheritance. What kind of role model of a ruler would I be if I didn’t want to make the world a better place.”

“Perhaps that is a conundrum for another day, you don’t need the weight of these choices today,” Jon reminded her of their duties for the day. Besides, he did not like talking about that particular wheel subject. Instead, he took her jaw into his palm to draw her up tenderly for a parting kiss, his other arm securely around her as her balance had been precarious with the baby due soon. Reluctant to let go, they shared another quick kiss before breaking apart, moving in different directions for the day while he possessively followed her with his eyes till she left the room.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 15: Prison Guard

Jon knew that something was amiss as soon as he spotted the pyramid. There was too much commotion, with not everyone in the spots they were expected to usually be. However, he pretended there was nothing wrong till he could pass Jora back to her nanny and Egan was also herded away by the curious group of people Dany employed to care for the dragonlings, some of them scholars, some farmers and some that had no clear connection to their care that he could see, apart from the fact that the dragons liked them. Then he grabbed a guard by the lapel, “is Your good Queen alright?”

“Yes, Your Grace. There was a break in into her private chambers, but she is unharmed and we have the intruder.”

Jon seethed his anger, breath leaving his nostrils loudly, “where is he? Let me have him!”

“She, Your Grace. I think she was taken down to the interrogation cell.” The King Consort did not remember his run through the belly of the pyramid they called home, nor the faces of the people he had to push aside and burst into the cell, barely giving the guards enough time to acknowledge his command and get out of his way. The prisoner was petite and poised, her movements slow and dignified as she turned.

“Arya? It wasn’t like Jon didn’t imagine this sort of situation happening before. In fact, he had obsessive thoughts about every person in the whole of the world who would or could come and endanger Dany, but his sister had always been one of the most dangerous ones he could think of. And why not, she had sworn to attack her before. So he stood, a few feet away, contemplating their good luck that Arya did not get a proper shot.

“What, no hug for me?” The woman sighed in a theatrical manner, “you’re never exactly sure where you stand, do you, Aegon Targaryen.”

“It’s Jon. I have not changed my name,” he was firm on that.

“That doesn’t change the fact that the whole of Westeros knows now who you are.”

“They also know that I have not officially raised any claim to the throne that would be mine by birthright.”

“Actually, I was going to say a turncoat.”

“Is it so wrong to love a woman more than yourself? To stand by her as our marriage vows said?”

“So you abandon your family and the North as if it were never your home, as if we were never your sisters.”

“I haven’t. Ask Sansa. We keep more than an amicable diplomatic relationship and she has helped me through my darkest times.”

“I have asked her, but about Bran..” Arya seemed reluctant to divulge, “she wrote back to confirm my fears. It was all I heard about on my travels everywhere, that the King of Westeros as he calls himself, may as well not exist, for all he does for any of his subjects. It is chaos and anarchy that rules, every man for himself.”

Jon nodded, glad to have the conversation at a little less heated and at a more agreeable level for the moment, “Tyrion says he only cares about some bigger picture he’s seen of the future. What that is, nobody knows. It’s getting harder and harder to get a word out of him.”

“So what kind of king is that,” the assassin frowned.

“But why are you here, Arya?” Jon reminded himself that he shouldn’t let himself be thwarted by her words, “revenge?”

“Some particulars. To know what there is to be known.”

“Know what particulars? Is that why you steal yourself into Dany’s private rooms?”

“Exactly. If I wanted her dead, she would be dead, you know that fine well Jon. You have to admit that. What better way to see the state of play than in its pure form, watching people when they don’t know they are being observed.”

“So you didn’t come here to kill her?” Jon was willing to negotiate, though he wasn’t sure how he could convince Daenerys or himself even of the younger woman having noble intentions only. After all, it was Arya who she was and she did have certain definite views and ways of dealing with problems.

The young woman tilted her head, “only if need be, if things don’t go the way they should.”

“You’re not helping your cause with saying that, you know,” the dark haired man grumbled.

“I want an audience with the both of you together.”

“You’re hardly in the position to make any demands. I am pretty sure that you were only left alive because of your association to me.”

“What are you afraid of? I would harm no pregnant woman. I’ve seen your spawn in her belly.”

“Yet you were willing to do that to Cersei without hesitation.”

“You can’t accuse me with such things, I am not the one who ultimately killed her.”

“Not for the lack of trying.”

“Let me talk to your woman. I have news she won’t want to miss hearing.”

“You can tell me whatever it is you want to say now. My ears are hers.”

“No, I think what you’re trying to say is that it is your balls that are hers.”

“Arya,” he warned, “it’s not my place to take messages to Daenerys.”

She examined her chains, seemingly disinterested, “I’ve been through the Wilderness of Jogos Nhai, the Empire of Yi-Ti and the jungles of Sothoryos. I’ve been taken by Krakens and merlings and seen a world under the sea. And I am telling you, you haven’t met your most potent adversary yet. The Night King was one of them, imagine a whole race. The Deep Ones are not satisfied with their kingdom below, especially now that they have no representative up here. They plan on taking ours.”

“So you want to say you came to warn us?” Jon was not in the mood for games.

“I came to tell you that someone needs to unite all of us here in the Known World and hopefully beyond. I can’t see Bran doing that.”

“You want to tell me you are on our side?” The Northern man did not even think of Arya’s claims, his issue was with the here and now.

“I’m on the side that lets our kind survive,” Arya was defiant, “the kind I won’t abandon.”

Jon had to sigh. He hated complications. Couldn’t life be easy for once? “We will consult with the priestesses and maesters about what you have said. Expect a cold, meagre and raw dinner,” he left without looking at her again.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 16: Alien Encounter

Drogon gave a little huff before giving the lovers privacy and flew away, leaving them on one of the sandy beaches of the Lands of the Long Summer, only reachable comfortably flying as the surrounding areas were plagued by drought. Jon smoothed his hand down Dany’s near enough flat stomach, nostrils flaring from desire and anticipation. Daenerys always gained her figure back pretty quickly after expecting and this time was no different. It had only been a few weeks since little Missa was born, but she assured him she needed no more time to recover before they engaged in intimacy again. Her wetness testified to that, as did her eager arms, devouring his muscles, her lips against his, her tongue tasting the inside of his mouth. There was no time to waste, it was clear she wanted him inside her. Jon gave her clit a quick brush or two with his swollen cock, just making sure she was really ready, but he couldn’t mistake her shaking in rapture at the move. She spread her legs further, pushing her hips against him. Her man advanced in slowly, not breaking eye contact, looking for her reaction. He would make love to her as he always did, with care and devotion and blissful reverence. His slick, determined thrusts sent shocks of pleasure through her core and she let herself lose control, hanging on for dear life, to his hair for the lack of a bedframe around them this time.

She loved it just as much as she loved laying her head against his chest afterwards as they watched the sunset together. Life indeed felt complete in these moments, and special, there was nothing else needed. But it had to be more complicated than that back at the palace, “we can’t leave your sister rotting in that place in the dungeons forever.”

“Understandable. We had more, urgent business to attend to together,” he smiled, the blessing of his small daughter on his mind.

“What do you want to do with Arya?” As much as she ruled mostly alone, the fate of his family she could not decide on her own, “I’m afraid there might not be a way for her to prove herself loyal.”

“Why did we grow up with so many secrets in that home where my ‘father’ claimed no lie should be spoken,” Jon mused instead, “no wonder I lost my faith in the spoken word.”

“Some lies are necessary,” Dany appeased him as he seemed disturbed, though she did not like them herself, “talk to me Jon. What did she tell you?”

“The same way I found out I wasn’t their brother, she found out something similar. Because Lord Eddard Stark wasn’t her father at all.”

“Maybe he didn’t know that either.”

“Maybe. It’s not my place to judge that. He wouldn’t have treated her any differently at any case, I know that from my example. Either way, I am not related to her whatsoever, not by blood.”

“How did she discover that?”

“Seems like Catelyn harboured, survived a dark secret. It was what changed her, made her the hardened woman we all knew her as. Her ship was attacked in the Sunset Sea when she travelled home to her ailing mother by something unspeakable. Arya says it was one of those creatures, The Deep Ones.”

“There’s another myth everyone has forgotten about.”

“No one simply trusts a stranger. Nobody believed in White Walkers either till they saw one.”

“Or dragons..” She always said the word with reverence. “So she is the daughter of one of those monsters, is that what you’re trying to say? How is that supposed to make me feel more inclined towards her? She will not serve me either way.”

“When she was out travelling on the open sea, the beasts of the waters felt her kinship. She talks about mermen and leviathan and kelpies and most importantly, the kraken. They are all in the service of the Deep Ones and they are willing to fight them for their freedom with us.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that at face value myself? That this beautiful sea in front of us is so sinister? That storms are not the worst of it?”

“Just like we took a wight for proof, Arya is willing to raise a kraken for you so that we can see for ourselves. It would be the best way.”

“You trust her to do so? That it will not pose a danger to us?”

“I don’t see how it could harm us with Drogon and his older girls behind. On land, no less. I’d give it a chance. What do we have to lose?”

Dany smiled at him and pulled him closer, eager to feel the warmth of his lips against hers, “that is a conundrum for tomorrow,” she fed him back one of his favourite sayings, “for tonight, in the here and now, you are mine.” His manhood would not lie to her, when she pressed against him it seemed like he was on the same page and there would be no persuading needed. They stood motionless for a moment, just sensing each other’s body, anticipating the pleasures they could and often gave each other till Dany’s thirst got the better of her and she reached for his straining manhood and took it into her palm, its smooth surface sending tingling sensations through her skin, the setting sun’s last rays on the horizon brightening his gaze to a fire that smouldered for her as they lay there at their level.

“Will it not be too much, all this fucking, so soon after giving birth?” He wanted to make sure he would not hurt her.

“I thought I had made that clear,” Daenerys locked her legs possessively round his buttocks, “but I can make more assurances,” she drew her lips down his chest.

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Chapter 17: Off Strand

When Jon awoke the next morning, he was alone on the beach, albeit covered with one of Dany’s dragonscale patterned cloaks she would use at night if she went riding the skies. But Jon startled out his fetal position, desperately looking around for his Queen. He didn’t mean to fall asleep as they weren’t protected here. However, there didn’t seem to be any sign of trouble, only Dany was nowhere to be seen. Despite himself, Jon started to hyperventilate, his stomach curling up in a well known agony. It happened every time he woke by himself, not with Dany in his arms, a sharp shocklike state that took him back to the time his love was dead by his hand. He had to concentrate on his breathing to get through it, reminding himself where and when he was. When the pain finally started to ease up some, he pushed himself off the sand and gathered the cloak against his belly, partly to take care of it and not lose it, and partly because it was making him more comfortable. That was stupid of him, he told himself, when he had been so well lately. He rubbed his stomach, trying to ease and will away the remnants of his panic and not be sick. After all, there was nothing in his stomach as they haven’t eaten in their joy of enjoying each other since the lunch the day before. But where was Dany? Should he wait for her there or should he call out to Drogon?

As he searched the skies for him, the old boy did appear on the horizon, and to his relief, Dany was riding him, waving at him cheerfully as she dismounted. He slowly walked toward her, letting his hand fall off his stomach. He wouldn’t tell her of his silly moment. “I didn’t want to wake you,” Dany strolled closer to set a picnic basket down, “I’ve got some melon, persimmon ale and hard cooked duck eggs with peppers. I didn’t have to go far, Drogon knew a village.”

“Of course he did,” Jon sat down beside her gingerly, somewhat dumbfounded and forcing a smile. The dragons had a sort of deal with some villagers all over the kingdom, they brought stones and other items for them in exchange for livestock.

“Well, eat,” she didn’t wait for him to serve herself a slice of melon, “they had pork pies too, but I didn’t think they would be good for your stomach first thing when cold.” She always minded his easily unsettling belly.

“Well yes,” he stammered, “you’re right.” He reached out for an egg to crack it, not certain if his stomach could take anything at all for the moment. What a stupid overreaction. “So I take it we’re not going back home yet?” He talked instead of eating.

“No. I’ve sent a message for Marselen to send Arya to us. We’re at the sea already, she can show us what she can do here if there’s anything to show.”

“And how is she going to get here any time soon? Are we planning to camp out here for weeks?”

“Drogon should bring her, I told them that in the letter too.”

“You really think he’ll let her ride him?”

“Of course not. I would not let her either. She will be chained to his horns without any of her pointies.”

“What if Drogon doesn’t like the idea?” Jon did not like how much Dany enjoyed startling people with her dragons. The unsettlement of the new announcement didn’t help his stomach either.

“We’re getting old grouchy Jon back? I haven’t seen him in years,” the Queen pushed at his arm jokingly with hers.

“If what Arya says is true, well, I don’t like it, any of it.”

“That is a conundrum for another day? We still have at least half a day before Drogon returns, “eat, you might need your strength later,” she smiled at him mischievously, “it was your idea, getting away for a bit, remember? I’m just being a good girl, doing what you wanted?” Dany hoped to mellow him up by leaning against him, “there’s something else for you at the bottom of the basket by the way,” she gestured at him to look.

“Is that pumpkin pie?” Jon looked under the cloth that covered the dish. The smell was unmistakable and not unpleasant, though he still wasn’t sure how it would go down.

“I saw you eat it with gusto in Winterfell. So when I saw it at the village, I asked for some. You must miss it, pumpkin doesn’t naturally grow in Mereen.”

“You are wonderful!” The idea of the pie did indeed lift his spirits a little, especially as it was the result of her tender care for him.

“I am told it’s with extra butter cream, whatever that does to it,” she laughed at her own lack of knowledge in the matter. Either way, she seemed enthusiastic to have the chance to make him happy, “I am so glad you’re finally well enough to be able to enjoy it!”

“Hmm.” Should he say he wasn’t at the moment? It would waste her joy. So instead, he simply planted a quick kiss to her lips that made her eyes light up and he took the pie out the basket, “I love you. I don’t feel like I tell you enough.”

“You tell me enough,” Dany rolled her eyes at him, “like last night, while you were inside me,” she teased, cosying herself up to him, “don’t you remember?”

“Perhaps that was too long ago,” he lifted a piece of the pie out, not too big, to shove into his mouth and please her, “especially told in that manner.” Then he wrapped his arms around her. It was one of those perfect moments, basking in her love that he felt he didn’t deserve. After swallowing the food down, he rewarded her with a kiss for it, and then with another, one that conveyed his need for her to complete him, take all his troubles away as she was only capable of. As opposed to the heat she’d expected after her mention of their previous, passionate night, he simply lay his forehead against her shoulder and squeezed her, breathed her in.

“Love?” She became aware of his out of sorts state, “what’s wrong?”

“When we walked into the fire hand in hand naked to hatch the latest brood of Dragon’s? I don’t think it’s possible to feel closer to anyone than like that. I would do anything for you, just ask.”

Dany’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and she pulled away a little to look at him, “there is nothing to ask,” she stressed, “don’t tell me we’re back to this again.” She never liked being reminded of King’s Landing either, not even covertly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jon cupped her face, looking at the beauty with her face basking in the sunshine. It made her eyes even more of an otherworldly colour and that made his heart flutter with adoration. But the mood was ruined due to his words, so she simply sighed and reached for a piece of fruit for the time being.

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Chapter 18: Eyeful Substance

Contrary to how a small part of Jon still unconsciously viewed Arya in his heart of hearts as his little sister who needed his protection despite what he had personally seen her do, the assassin was in no way disturbed by travelling on dragonback. She had wanted to do that for a long time to start with, not to mention her travels underwater riding a kraken when going West were a lot more adventurous. What she didn’t particularly care for was having to watch Daenerys and Jon break apart and dress at her arrival with Drogon and the two younger dragons Jon first hatched at Winterfell, Spear and Blaze, though Drogon did keep a wing in the way of her seeing clearly till the couple was ready to receive her. “I can go back now if you like,” Arya commented on the situation as Jon undid her chains, “what are we doing here?”

“Now it’s your time. Prove your words or be judged for treason,” Dany walked up to them close as well so her words could be heard over the crash of the waves.

“Can you call a kraken? Or some other creature out of the sea for us to see?” Jon offered some less drastic alternatives, hoping for one of them to be possible.

The corners of Arya’s mouth turned up immediately. “Why, I thought you’d never ask.” She walked decisively towards the sea, discarding all of her clothing one by one as she went, making Jon grunt in displeasure at the show of her lack of dignity and look away.

Dany found his reaction rather amusing as they themselves have been naked in her company less than a moment ago and pointed his chin back towards the shore, “keep looking, I might need your contribution at any time.”

“That’s too bad,” Jon kept his eyes in that direction, but not exactly on the naked butt disappearing into the froth of the surf, “are we just going to let her swim away at will?” The thought of Arya’s possible escape occurred to him.

Dany waved him off, intent on the horizon. Because as soon as Arya’s head disappeared under the water, the waves started forming a whirlpool in the distance. Jon pulled Dany instinctually towards their ride in case they needed to flee the phenomenon, but the chaotic waves did not reach them. Instead, Arya appeared again, raising out of the water atop a weird looking creature with many tentacles, something between a squid and an octopus, but no smaller than Drogon himself. It swam closer, then settled its head down in the sand, where the water was shallow. The eyes were more like a wave shaped cut peeking out from behind more tentacles that resembled hair and the body behind lit up with different colours that seemed to change depending on the angle they were looking at it. “I’m sorry, but my girl Argonauta isn’t around these seas for the moment, so let me introduce you to...it’s Jeletzkya. She says her name is Jeletzkya.”

“You are saying you can talk to them?” Dany raised her eyebrows.

“Don’t you talk to them?” Arya nodded towards the dragons, “well, it’s not talk exactly, but what we want to say, it appears in our minds.”

“Sure, same,” Jon said quickly as he didn’t want it to appear like they didn’t communicate with the dragons, though for him it only came with years’ long practice and as far as he knew, Dany only mastered it a little bit before himself.

“Alright, so you can command a kraken. Still, where does that leave us with the rest of your claims,” Dany demanded more while Drogon inserted himself between his human mother and the sea creature.

“I would take you under to see their world, but you can’t hold enough breath for that, you’d just die,” Arya sounded self-assured, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

“And you can do that shit?” Jon caught on, a little unsettled and rather angered by all this cavalcade of new entities that the world was throwing at them again.

“I found that I do, yes, I last longer than you. Probably as long as a whale at least. But that isn’t the main reason I can’t take you under. The Deep Ones didn’t take notice of me as I am a half breed and they have no idea I was the one killing one of theirs on land, but they would certainly take notice of you. It would be a sign that you’re trying to find out what they’re planning so I don’t think it is a good idea to show you first hand.”

Dany wasn’t listening however. She was following Drogon as the animal closed the distance between himself and the creature, paddled into the water, sniffed round the kraken and let her touch him in response with her tentacles. Daenerys held up a hand for everyone to stop talking and watch as the animals explored around each other, resulting in the dragon relaxing its defenses and giving the other’s huge body a friendly looking nudge. “What is happening?” Jon frowned. While he found it easier to share thoughts with the dragons he hatched, Drogon didn’t usually bother to make him understand any of his thoughts unless he had no other choice.

“They can communicate, they were once tamed with the same magic around the same time. Jeletzkya does not want to attack no more ships for The Deep Ones anymore,” Dany touched Drogon’s head in thanks for reporting, “she wants our help to stop the need for them to have to sink all armies as they’ve been ordered.”

“They’ve been ordered already? But when is this to happen?” Jon did not want his relatively peaceful existence to end.

“When you gather yours and deem it sufficient enough to take back King’s Landing. You’ll never get there because it is you they would fear the most if you could rebuild. That is why I had to come now,” Arya filled in, “there. You’ve still no sufficient reason to trust me?”

“How are we supposed to unite all the lands so swiftly then?” The King of Mereen posed the question.

“You’ll find a way, you always do,” the younger Northerner deflected it as if to say that it wasn’t her problem.

“You have fulfilled your end, Arya Stark,” Dany declared, nodding at her, “you are free to go.”

The brunette huffed, “I doubt you could stop me either way. I would like to state, that there will be no bending of the knee for you, or anyone. Not from me or any of these sea creatures. They have suffered enough under someone else’s rule. They shall be free.”

Dany growled a questioning look, “I keep no slaves and I condemn no animal to a life of servitude, don’t you know that already?” Despite the burning of King’s Landing, that was still the way most people knew her as, the Breaker of Chains.

“Then we are allies,” Arya established as her ride rose out the shallow water to turn and dip back into the ocean, “have your dragon call out for us over the seas when needed, one of the krakens will hear it.” Drogon toddled into the water after it, reaching his neck out to follow the trail for as long as he could. It had to be curiosity because he let out a startled puff that he must have been holding back and did not want to leave the beach just yet. The experience was indeed unexpected for all.

Tbc

Chapter Text

Chapter 19: Zoom Handle

While it would have been normal for all of them to be deep in thought on their flyover home, by the time they reached the entrance of the Bay, Dany noticed that Jon had retreated even more into himself than usual. Him being silent, that wasn’t unusual, but his lack of kisses and fondling from behind as they rode, was. The Queen turned to check on her suspicions and found him pale as milk, sweaty and squeezing his lips determinedly together as if he didn’t want to be sick. “Drogon, gīda, gīdemagon,” she asked the animal to go slower and steady and as soon as he did, she climbed up to change positions, so she could go behind Jon and hold him if necessary, “should we stop? It would maybe be wise to have a break.” She eyed the terrain below for a good spot.

“No, we’re almost back home,” Jon forced out, but the ordeal of having to open his mouth was enough to overtip the wave of nausea building in his stomach and he had to lean to the side to let go of that breakfast he was trying so desperately to hold onto, for Dany’s sake more like anything else. Drogon gave an unhappy caw as he did not like the mess Jon was making midair, but he did have the sense to even his flaps out furthermore to keep steady.

Dany didn’t seem happy either, that was clear from the displeased sighs even as she rubbed at Jon’s midsection, trying to ease the cramping. “Are you going to pass out? I wish you’d warn me of these things.” She asked seriously as she had to know if she needed to prepare for that.

“No, not if we keep going steady like this, my head doesn’t spin too much,” Jon understood he had to admit it and answer in all seriousness as well given the situation.

“Sīkudi Nopāzmi!” Dany cursed nevertheless, clearly not having expected the turn of events, “damn you Jon Snow! This is stupid! Why are you doing this!”

Her fellow rider turned back to look at her despite how it made his nausea worse, “what do you mean, what am I doing? I don’t understand.”

“I’ve had enough of your guilt showing up unexpectedly at the most inopportune moments! Don’t you think we have better things to do with our lives!”

“Don’t you think I would stop my stomach churning if I could?” Jon edged forward a little as much as it was possible under the circumstances as he did not want to be near her for the moment.

“Ser Jorah went and cured himself of greyscale for me when no one could have thought it possible. I think you should at least be able to not remind me every now and then how you’ve plunged a dagger into my heart.” Jon went paler immediately and he swallowed, fighting with his stomach foremost again. Of course it was too much to hope for that they could forget about or ignore his deeds indefinitely.

“This is the last time you do this Jon. No more,” Dany offered the olive branch with moistening eyes, sliding up the dragon’s neck in fear he will lose his shaky grip at the next strike of the cramps.

He closed his eyes tightly, wishing for the bodily affliction to go away, to be somewhere else where he didn’t have to accept Dany’s arms to keep him upright. “I love you with all my heart.” It was all he could offer and he knew it wasn’t enough. In his forced down fevered trepidation he did not want to think of what might be the cost of this shortcoming. He could slay a thousand enemies, but not control his own body.

“I love you too,” the blonde ruler countered, conveying the feeling with her touch, but the distancing wall between them remained. Jon knew she meant it, he could not remind her of the past no more, for the consequences were unknown to both of them.

“Tell Leon that His Grace will need his tinctures for sickness again. And I need to speak to Tal, summon him,” Dany barked at the first attendant appearing to ask for their needs on arrival. She did however not help Jon off their ride, nor did she cast one glance at him as she strode off without delay in the council room’s direction.

Tbc

Chapter Text

Chapter 20: Visitors’ Entrance

Jon moaned thankfully as he woke the next morning to the hand rubbing his stomach soothingly and leaned into the touch. He had every intention to fulfill Dany’s expectations and reign over his clearly guilt induced physical afflictions on his own, but it was great to know that Dany wasn’t as angry with him anymore as much as on the previous day. Till..he realised that these hands were not just slightly bigger, but they also didn’t quite seem to know where exactly did his stomach usually hurt. Jon pushed the hand away at the realisation and sat up at the speed of thunder to stare into vivid blue eyes belonging to..”Sansa!?! What are you doing in Dragons’ Bay, sister!” While she wasn’t, he liked to call her that our of nostalgia or to emphasize their connection, he didn't know himself.

“Your letters stated you were all hale,” the Queen of Winterfell accused instead.

“Oh, not you too!” Jon reached for this belt, “I promise you that I am well enough, most of the time.”

“Your Queen has had enough of your moping,” Sansa established, “I don’t blame her.”

“You spoke to her about this?”

“Yes, last night and not just this. I would have rather not tell of the news twice, but she said some Maester was adamant you needed your rest.”

“What news was there you could not send a raven with? A true Lord, a steward, a guard, anyone?”

“I could chance no message not to be taken seriously. We need you all to come to defend Winterfell at once.”

“Defend? Shouldn’t you have stayed to help defend it against those fuckers?”

“I left it in the care of Tormund Giantsbane. He had sworn to protect it with his life in your name till our return.”

“He did what? He’s Wildling. You did what? None of this makes any sense. Tell me what happened!”

“I brought Sam with me to explain,” Sansa understood how hard the news was to take in, it had been for her. She stood to open the door and let the Grand Maester in.

“You are taking a chance by being here!” Jon was worried for his friend and stood to approach him, “aren’t you part of the Council at King’s Landing? Does Dany know you’re here?”

“Sam is here merely as a herald of doom and he is under my protection. Daenerys shan’t touch him, not if she cares for our alliance,” Sansa claimed.

“Oh, it’s good to be back in the middle of it all,” the host rolled his eyes, but hugged the newcomer nevertheless for old times’ sake, “ends of worlds are always fun. But you do not like the Queen, you never really did.”

“That is of no matter, nor our allegiances. What I came to say is more important, it is more important than any of us or any of our squabbles amongst ourselves,” Samwell claimed.

“Aye, I was afraid you would say that,” Jon grumbled, “go on.”

“There have been sightings of The Deep Ones on land, all over Westeros,” Sansa chipped in, “and as we are one of the Westernmost regions as well as the North, we had a fair share of it all. The Bear Islands have fallen, nobody was left alive, then came Blazewater Bay, Barrowtown..”

“That’s too close to Winterfell!” The King freaked.

“Not just to Winterfell,” Sam touched his arm to convey his weighty meaning, “the Iron Islands are lost and then those monsters were spotted starting coming downriver at Oldstones.”

“Islands, downriver..do they maybe need water to survive?” Jon caught on.

“Theory says so, and so do the Legends, the folklore of Crackclaw Point. And they seem to like to stick to water, but they have also clearly been seen on land.”

“Do we know their weaknesses if any?” The warrior was always thinking like one. “What do they look like?”

“That’s just it Jon,” Sam sounded shellshocked, “they look exactly like the Night King, only greener. And there are dozens of them, leading slave raids, taking our women, holding mysterious rituals with human sacrifice. I don’t know what is happening,” the scholar rubbed T his forehead.

“Has anyone tried to kill one yet?”

“Of course,” the Grand Maester was sombre, “not one succeeded so far. As far as we can tell, they possess the same abilities as the Night King, great strength, to manipulate water, fire and earth.”

“I notice you haven’t mentioned them raising the dead.”

“Nobody has seen them do it, but we don’t know either way. But we have seen them call the creatures of the seas to fight for them, even peaceful ones, walruses, selkies, merlings, toads and fish.”

“That’s...Does Dany know all of this?” Jon started to dress. There was no time to waste.

“Of course she does,” Sansa averted her eyes from the muscles of Jon’s upper body, as enticing as they were.

“What is her plan? Does she have one?” The King was perturbed. Was his other half so angry with him that she had stopped telling him even what was so important?

Tbc

Chapter Text

Chapter 21: Jury of War

Jon rushed through the corridors of the Grand Pyramid to find that Dany was presiding over a Council meeting with all her trusted advisors, office holders and priestesses, including Kinvara who must’ve been brought there in haste and most surprisingly, Daario Naharis, who had intentionally exiled himself on different missions at all times ever since Dany’s return with a husband in tow. “Your Grace?” The former slave Symon Stripeback was immediately ready to offer his place with a respectful bow to the ruling King who entered.

Dany however stood as well, not liking the expression on her man’s face. Jon had trundled in fully armoured and with his sword on his side, “let us take a break,” she weaved round a pillar for him to follow for a little bit more privacy.

“Am I not part of your Council?!” Jon could not help the sting in his chest for him having been ignored, but he knew there were more important matters at hand, “I’m ready and fit to fight,” he assured her, “whatever is needed.”

“Well, I can see that,” Dany raised amused eyebrows.

“We need to fight, get to Winterfell, without delay. Who knows if it still stands.”

Dany pursed her lips, “you will do no such thing. We need to know what our potential allies respond first and wait for the Unsullied to set a rendezvous point.”

“What? You can’t wait forever for Tyrion Lannister to get over his fear of you. Besides, when did he care about Winterfell at any case.”

“We have reason to believe that The Deep Ones have no particular interest in Winterfell. Too far from the seas. They could have taken it a long time ago, but what they have been doing according to reports was advancing on King’s Landing from all angles.”

“That does not mean they won’t go to Winterfell. I need to take Blaze,” he sounded like he was letting her know, but did not ask for permission.

“I can’t let you do that Jon. Everything is being readied for us all to go to free King’s Landing and I am not flying there without you, not again. It’s a bad omen, I can’t.”

“Aren’t we waiting for Arya’s creatures as well? I know there’s no happy choice here, but I could be back before it is time to go. Or at the very least, I will join you in the battle.”

“Or I will never see you again,” Dany smoldered in her anger. If she was angry, she didn’t have to feel anything else worse. “You are going to fight The Deep Ones on your own in Winterfell?” She scoffed.

“If they are there, it will be a rescue mission of whoever is still alive. I can’t let my people die there Dany, it’s my ancestral home. Then I’ll join you,” Jon half turned, not certain if she would allow him to kiss her goodbye under the circumstances.

Daenerys nodded slowly and just as slowly, she touched his chest to rest her palm on it. It was all he needed for encouragement and he gathered her into his arms with an overflowing affection. It was easy to get lost in it. His kiss was all that existed in their world at that moment, her senses overloaded by the potent power of the love conveyed in a way that could not be denied. She pushed against him, awakening his rod, desperately not wanting the encounter to end for after, none of them knew what would happen. Feeling the same, Jon deepened the kiss further, his tongue joining the action, making her shiver, making her weak. How could she let him go, his soft touch he only had for her. “Don’t go..not because I’m Your Queen and I forbid it, but because I can’t lose you. Riding to King’s Landing on my own, it doesn’t feel right,” she stressed.

“I don’t want you to go alone, not unless you have to. I will be back in no time, for the sake of all our people,” he cupped her face at an angle so that she could see into his eyes, his soul and know he meant it, “you can trust me. I love you.”

Dany kept the intense gaze for a bit before her eyes misted and she nodded and once more buried her face into his shoulder for another lingering moment and closed her eyes. “You know I don’t swear oaths I don’t uphold. The sooner I go, the sooner I can come back,” he moved away slowly, hands reluctant to let go. One more long good-bye kiss, lips just as reluctant to part. They will be able to have more, she had to remind herself, convince herself to be able to part. She swallowed with a shudder and anxiously watched him step away. Losing control was hard and she knew that without him, she had less reigns on it too. She didn’t like it, but she accepted it, he had his own agency and she could not stop him. And the council was waiting so she steeled herself so her pain and uncertainty wouldn’t show and walked back to her duties as Protector of the Realm.

Tbc

Chapter Text

Chapter 22: Bench Sway

The dreary skies and light rain was not a good omen for the start of a campaign. Dany had delayed their departure as much as she could, but given that there were now reports of sightings of The Deep Ones around Pentos and Lys and thus closer to home, taking action could not be delayed anymore, not when Arya was waiting for her in the Bay with her Kraken and promised a clear path for the Targaryen ships with a sea creature studded escort. What she didn’t expect or understand when she mounted Drogon was for her dragon to go absolutely crazy, toss her off carelessly at the beach and wade into the sea as deep as he could, not till another animal raised its head from the water. It looked like a dragon. “Is that Vi..Viserion?” It was impossible.

“I found out that after he was shot down and fell into the water, his relatives, the Krakens nursed him back to health,” Arya explained.

“But that was years ago,” Dany was taken aback by the turn of events, “why didn’t he come back to us?”

“He was almost mortally wounded as you know, so it took a long time. Besides, you know how these creatures value their freedoms.”

“I’m sorry Viserion, I should have searched for you, I just thought you were dead,” the Queen waded into the water herself, “it was a dark time, not one I would like to partake of again,” she hoped the dragon would accept her touch. Viserion didn’t seem against it, not completely, he even rose out the water to fly-hop closer, but moved his head away at the last moment.

“You’re coming with us though, aren’t you?” Dany was excited by the prospect of them flying together again.

“There was an understanding between my Argonauta and your dragon to go for Jon first. I give the command of the rest of my animals over to you till then. Drogon can communicate your wishes and then my sea creatures can decide for themselves whether they will follow a particular order given.”

“It’s not exactly possible to execute an attack if you don’t know your orders will be followed. There is a lot at stake here.”

Arya shrugged, “it is the best I can do.”

“You’re not intending to fight for Winterfell as well once you’re there? It is your childhood home after all,” Dany was sensing more betrayal.

The younger woman shook her head, “that would be futile. The main battle is being fought at King’s Landing, even The Deep Ones know that is where westerosi wars are decided and till then, Winterfell’s story isn’t over yet. If we take the Red Keep, then all else should fall into place.”

“Your biological father is still with them?” Dany was concerned about another personal angle, “do you know which one it is?”

“Don’t concern yourself with that. He’s mine,” the Wolf Girl conveyed her intentions by tightening her fist round the hilt of a new Pointy Needle. “Remember, you want to separate them from their access to water,” she made the speech to everyone, with it being passed on for those who could not hear her voice, “while being without it won’t kill them, they tend to be less graceful and able to fight on land, especially the less experienced ones. It is hard, but they can be injured, killed as long as you can fight. If you see an unusually large one, those are the leaders, let us know.”

Dany looked over the large gathering of creatures, crowding the horizon above the clouds and filtering down to the bottom of the ocean. If it were humans claiming that the capital needed her, she would have sensed a trap, but these animals she could not doubt. If only she wasn’t fated to burn the city aground again. She caught Daario’s eyes for a moment, she let him fight beside her this time. “Soves!” She signalled her intentions to Drogon, after whom she knew all would follow. The wind in her hair, the glinting sun on the horizon above the dreary clouds, the beautiful view of abundant hills and sparkling waves below where the sun broke through and she was already in a better mood. She would soon reunite with Jon, she could hope that and that was another upbeat prospect to imagine and hang onto.

tbc

Glossary:
Soves - fly (High Valyrian)

Chapter Text

Chapter 23: Sum Total

“Back so soon? Where is Jon?” Dany questioned the arriving Arya. She didn’t expect her to be there by the time they’ve reached King’s Landing. Could it be that Krakens were faster than dragons?

“He is here somewhere.” It was all the Stark had time to say before the feeling of being sickened by the sensation of deja-vu that resonated through her entire being overtook Daenerys as they neared the rebuilt city walls for a negotiation. This time however Grey Worm and Dany had to fear for no hostages, while Sansa and Arya watched helplessly behind her as the giant leader of The Deep Ones carelessly tossed both Bran and Tyrion, one hand each, over the wall as more of a show of strength than anything else without any negotiations whatsoever as soon as they arrived. Daario stepped in front of her at once, sword drawn and ready to fight. Instead of an immediately ensuing battle though, she became aware of Drogon’s presence in her mind and that he was channelling Argonauta, who in turn conveyed the Deep One’s Leader’s voice, Taypiqal was the name she realised. Judging from Arya’s face and the hesitation in her angry gripping of her weapons, she was experiencing the same. “What is going on?” Daario eyed the younger Stark woman confusedly. He could have sworn the assassin was going to attack the large creature single handedly a moment ago.

“He made contact, in our minds,” Dany realised he had to let the rest of their companions know. “He says that he has no intentions to occupy a continent with many deep lying deserts.”

“He means Essos? But apart from Essos he would take everything else,” Grey Worm translated the meaning.

“He’s offering a truce. For us all to go back to Mereen and not lose another soul. He’s even willing to let his sea slaves go if they came with us.”

“Or else?” Sansa stood as fearless as she could manage. She was good with pretenses.

“He didn’t say or else, but we all know what that means. Losses on both sides, with or without the loss of all of Westeros,” Arya conferred.

“Most likely the loss of the North, of Winterfell,” Sansa concluded what really mattered for her.

“He wouldn’t have offered a deal if he was certain he would win,” Arya held, “so we should fight.”

“I’d like to wait for Jon.” It seemed to be Dany’s only condition as she faced King’s Landing. Any other target, she would have been fine with, but this one in particular held too many bad memories and uncertainties for her.

“I do not think that the swiftness of the attack would make any difference to the outcome,” her bloodrider representative barked his standpoint in Dothraki as advice, then surprisingly, repeated the whole thing more or less accurately in the common tongue for all to understand.

“Drogon, ask him for time for us to think and discuss his offer over,” Daenerys decided on the current course of action, “one day.”

Taypiqal held up a flipper and bowed his head sideways slightly in acknowledgement, but no more than a few moments passed before over a dozen creatures akin to him breached the walls from the inside, not caring they’ve destroyed their own city walls and buildings and charged the delegation. “I guess they took our request for time as a no deal offer,” Arya moved into the circle Dany’s generals formed around her for their shared defence formation. Without prompting, all the dragons descended from the sky to unleash fire on their Queen’s attackers during which the walls suffered further damage, though the majority of the destruction was already done.

There was a moment of silence while everyone waited for the fire to die down to see if The Deep Ones were affected at all and it did seem that although their rags were burnt, the creatures were similar to the Night King also in how fire was not killing them. They didn’t use weapons, only spit out a sort of slime that blinded and burnt people. “I heard about that,” Sansa muttered beside her, holding her own pointy. Dany knew that at some point she had lessons from Jon, as he had given them to the children, herself and everyone who might need it.

“Fichas jahakes moon!” Daenerys encouraged her Dothraki warriors, not that they needed any encouragement either. They’ve surrounded Tayquipal, while The Unsullied tackled the dozens of his kind that appeared from behind. Yara Greyjoy and the Mereen Navy started on the ones just coming out the water as the residents’ screams of terror and the total chaos of the battle suddenly broke out.

Furious that his fire didn’t do enough damage, Drogon grabbed onto the back of Tayquipal with his claws and lifted him up into the air. Viserion preferred the water now, that is where he chose his fighting ground to be. It was strangely, where it was hardest for The Deep Ones as they have made many enemies. Dany held up her sword too, though so far, she did not have to use it. Daario, Strong Belwas and Rommo made sure of that. “Bran, Brandon, he still lives,” Sansa beside her pointed her chin towards the figure on the ground as indication, “I’ve seen him move. I need to get to him!” The call of family and the protection of her people was strong in the heart of the Queen in the North.

“Daario, here!” She showed the captain what Sansa had just pointed out so that they could advance their little group towards the survivor. Spear noticed their plight and helped too with scorching a path for them the fighters avoided. By the state of the King covered head to toe in blood, Dany wasn’t sure it was much worth the trek, besides, she would have rather been riding on Drogon. The dragon however insisted on his fight with Tayquipal despite her repeated calls, no doubt in an effort to protect her from the creature. Spear was Jon’s, he didn’t usually tolerate her riding him and she wanted to keep the younger dragons from the front line anyway, from the most sizable and probably more powerful Deep Ones. Viserion? She wasn’t sure he would heed her call either, yet as soon as she thought of him, the dragon in question rose from the water. But someone was already riding him, his old rider Jon! The greetings of the reunion had to be quick as Drogon dropped Tayquipal back onto the ground and The Deep One’s leader didn’t seem happy about his ordeal. His menacing eyes zeroed in immediately on Dany as if she would have been responsible. One look towards Sansa and Dany was sure her brother was dead. “We need to go,” Daenerys took the other Queen’s hand.

Sansa shook herself out of some reverie, “he said he took the throne because you needed time to become who you are,” she said quickly. “And I know how to kill them. Bran saw how they die.”

“That’s great, but you won’t be able to tell me if we don’t get out of here right now,” Dany eyed the towering monster tossing horses with Dothrakis out his way to get to them. She shielded her ears and only then did she realise that it was inside her head that Tayquipal’s booming voice roared his anger. Her soldiers close by heard it too and fell with it, even Daario, though he still shielded her with his already broken and bloody body. “Are you sure what Bran told you is true? Could it win us the battle?” She hung onto Sansa.

“Bran has never been wrong, not since he became the Three Eyed Raven,” the Northern Queen pressed out through her teeth as she also struggled with the pressure in her head. Drogon screeched and attacked the assailant again with renewed vigour. Nobody was to hurt his mother.

“Blow retreat now! Blow retreat,” Dany managed to get hold of Belwas as she could not see Grey Worm anywhere.

“Are you sure?” The large warrior looked at her surprised. They were not known to run from a fight.

“We need to regroup. There is no need to spill more blood than it is absolutely necessary.” Viserion and Jon swooped down for her at the same time and she climbed on in haste as she knew neither the Dothraki nor the Unsullied would believe their ears if they didn’t see her meaning the retreat order seriously.

tbc

Glossary:

Fichas jahakes moon - take his braid/get him/charge (Dothraki)

Chapter Text

Chapter 24: Square Gap

“Speak, woman, now!” It was at Hayford Castle where they’ve retreated to that Strong Belwas addressed the Northern Queen less respectfully than he otherwise would have, but he just lost two great brothers, Grey Worm and Daario in the battle for no good reason and he didn’t even get the chance to retaliate.

Sansa fixed him with a disapproving look, but there were more important matters at hand than his manner of address indeed. “Check with anyone, The Deep Ones haven’t been anywhere near Oldtown, nor the Basilisk Isles and I can tell you why. Do you know what common denominator those two places have?”

“We’re not in the mood for guessing games, sister,” Jon conveyed everyone’s feelings on the matter morosely.

“It’s mysterious black stones, the same kind. The Basilisk Isles have ruins of large statues made of this material unseen anywhere else and the fused stone ruins of the Hightower in Oldtown are made from the same material. Bran said that The Deep Ones fear it and it causes them great damage, they burn from inside out if in the vicinity of them. All we need to do is bring some, it doesn’t even need to be forged into weapons, not necessarily.”

“That is why we stopped the fight?” Rommo was of course not happy about it either. Chopping enemies was a lot more satisfying than relying on hearsay.

“Are we supposed to believe this and base our lives, the fate of our entire race on it?” Symon grumbled at the same time, “forgive me, but I don’t trust a westerosi ruler, dead or alive.”

“Could Bran not have told someone this earlier?” Jon had something to say as well, “if not us then tell Sansa or Arya! It would have been useful before we endangered our forces.”

“How likely is it that Bran was right, Maester Tarly?” Dany turned towards Sam.

“It is very possible,” the last of his House shuffled awkwardly as he always did in the presence of the Targaryen ruler, “there has always been some speculation among Maesters that The Deep Ones lived on the Iron Islands before the Ironborn. It is why they worship the Drowned God. Whoever made the statues and what’s left of them in Oldtown, used a similar material to the Seastone Chair that is said to have been left by the Deep Ones. It could be that it was to mislead The Deep Ones into touching it.”

“Too much speculation and not enough facts,” Symon was weary. There were so many legends and beliefs, who knew what was right?

“I’d rather have the stones than not have them when we go back to face them,” Jon gave his opinion.

Dany nodded her assent, “Drogon is the fastest, it would make sense if I went to retrieve the stones.”

“And I shall go with you,” her husband was not keen on letting go of her again, “Drogon might not be able to bring enough on his own,” he argued his case.

“Strong Belwas,” Dany touched the armour on the huge man’s arm on her way out. As Grey Worm’s second, it was natural he would have to take over. “Your job is to keep everyone else alive till we are back.”

Jon took the opportunity to place his arm around Dany’s shoulders as they went, squeezing her against him, stopping her anxiety induced little trembles nobody else knew of for she had been standing head high, outwardly in control. His move made her feel more secure and comforted against the conflict they faced, the biggest battle of their lives. She looked up at him, into his eyes, looking for the same comfort again. He nodded at her and squeezed her harder against him as they walked, rubbing her arm lovingly from the outside. They had so much in common, coming from obscurity, the underdog, fighting their way up to the top to make things right. Still, she couldn’t quite explain her overwhelming need for him, the way and depth of how she’d fallen for him. Her soul always warmed around him and she almost stopped there and then to bury herself in his arms and never let go, let him cover her, encircle her, fill her, shelter her against the world. But she wasn’t like that. She was a strong woman, ready to do what was needing done. His touch still made her lips curve up slightly and her eyes livened. It was good to know she had him to support her if it ever became necessary. It felt like it was of the essence to say it again, especially in such a momentous turning point of their lives, “I love you, husband.”

“I know that,” Jon turned a little to plant a kiss onto her forehead, “you’re just frustrated with me sometimes. I understand.”

“You are indeed rather infuriating Jon Snow. Stubborn as a dragon.”

“I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised? But I never mean to cause you pain.”

“So what happened at Winterfell?” Dany remembered the cause of their previous squabble, “Arya didn’t say.”

“The Deep Ones never approached it as it is too far inland I guess. We still took everyone up into the mountains, further from sea and rivers anyway, just in case. I made it though on time, didn’t I?”

“I hate being terrified for you. Think that I will never see you again. Your stomach alright?” She had to revisit and check about their previous arguments as well.

“Yes, I told you, I promise I will make things right, soon. I owe you that and the children.”

She looked at him at length before sighing, “I wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but I can be a little demanding at times about what is meant to be mine. And you are meant to be mine.”

“You think?” Jon snorted his accord with another kiss to the side of her head before they mounted.

Tbc

Chapter Text

Chapter 25: Secular Interests

With Dany riding Drogon and Jon on Viserion, it felt just like old times. She kept looking over however, assuring herself that her husband was indeed well. He appeared to be, but she realised she much preferred when they rode together on the same dragon and she could hold onto him, feel him against her. This was their third journey back from Oldtown by which time the Council judged that the amount of black stones of mysterious magical origins brought back from the ruins would be enough to aid them in their attack of The Deep Ones. They were meant to meet the fleet and the army back at King’s Landing, but when they arrived, it was Strong Belwas who greeted them at the gate, with no enemy in sight. “As soon as we arrived with the other stones, they went on the run,” the warrior explained.

“We think it emits a sound inside their minds they can not suffer. It was how the First Men got rid of them and banished them to the oceans. The water filters out the sound, so that would make sense,” Samwell theorized.

“King’s Landing is yours, My Queen,” Bronn represented the rest of the King’s small Council behind him, “and so is the Royal treasury.”

Dany looked over at Jon hesitantly. The Red Keep and whatever stood in there instead of the Iron Throne was not where she wanted to go, it felt like a bad omen. “Are we sure they aren’t turning back? Coming back with some reinforcements later?” Jon questioned Belwas n the meantime.

“Strong Belwas posted lookouts in every direction. We will know if they do, but somehow I don’t think so,” the warrior’s speech got better over the years. “You haven’t seen the agony they were in when they were leaving. We could have taken them all.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“We did take some, Strong Belwas can show you on the beach where we keep them shackled. They went down like a sack of potatoes.”

“Uh...we want to study them,” Samwell supplied, “so that we know more about them if they ever think about attacking again.”

“Alright,” Jon stood at a loss, “do as you see best.” It was hard to believe they won without much of a fight. As the group of their greeters took to their separate tasks, he turned to his wife, “you really broke the wheel this time, Dany.”

“We did it together. We broke the wheel together.” The Queen peeked into the gate with some hesitance. “I don’t know if I can ever make it right with these people.”

“Let’s see if you can,” Jon took her by the hand across the Old Gate to walk down the streets and up towards the Red Keep. He knew as well that it was there they both had to make their mistakes right. Daenerys’s part didn’t seem that hard, not at first glance. Many people went after their own business and didn’t acknowledge her, or while they looked at her wearily, they didn’t approach or reproach. Some fell to their knees and some thanked her for saving them from The Deep Ones, or from Bran the Broken’s apathy. Some welcomed her as the true ruler of Westeros, which seemed the least sincere of all.

A number of streets still needed a lot of rebuilding and Dany woved for arranging that to be her first order of the day. They were going down the end of the Street of the Sister when an unkempt woman of small stature appeared as if from nowhere. “This is for burning my children alive, you bitch!” Part of her thinking she deserved it, Daenerys didn’t move in time, but Jon did. It was how the blade ended up in his side instead of Dany’s. A moment later, the woman was seized by the guards. The Queen paid her no heed, she only saw the need to encircle Jon’s staggering form, keep him from hitting the ground hard. Jon however, did not fall. He tried to give her a smile, encourage her and reassure her, “that was just one. I think I can survive one,” he referred sarcastically to the scars that covered his whole front.

“You will die either way, traitor!” The woman captured sneered.

“Is it poisoned?” Dany turned towards her, her breath hitching with dread at her suggestion.

“What do you think, huh?” While the attacker missed her target, she was still happy with the outcome of causing the Queen pain.

“Lie down quick, we need to take the blade out as quickly as possible,” Dany urged, but by the time she turned back, Jon had the offending article out already. He did stagger some more then now that the blood flew more freely and Dany reached to hold him under his arms to provide support, not minding that her blue dress was quickly turning a dark colour. Numb herself with shock, it felt like she was watching herself from the outside as her man and saviour was lowered to the ground by Belwas and Rommo, not objecting to the treatment or as much as bending his legs to help. As soon as hands were holding him strong, he more or less collapsed backwards into his wife’s arms as if a plank would’ve been pulled out from under his feet, weak and limp and so fragile looking all of a sudden that the Queen also paled considerably at the sight, dizzy with the implications of what had happened and wracked with the realisation that he had taken a dagger intended for her. If this was how he had planned to pay for his mistakes, then she didn’t want it. Still, it had taken her a mere few moments till she came to her senses as instinct told her it was not a time for reflection, but action, and time felt as if it was speeding up with her decision. Her hands spontaneously extended towards the wound, gushing blood now that the obstruction jamming the blood vessels was gone, but she stopped before making contact, fingers shaking hesitantly. Jon was breathing heavily, exacerbating the flow, eyes steeled against the pain and mouth open in an intentionally quiet gasp. He was holding strong, but with that amount of blood loss, it wouldn’t last.

“You need to let it bleed as much as humanly possible and still safe, get rid of some of the poison at least,” Samwell Tarly told her, kneeling beside them from the other side of Jon, making Dany wonder how much time she had really lost thinking and when and where from did the Maester reappear.

“I know, I know,” Daenerys shook her head, hating how helpless she felt. She was now the ruler of all of the known world and yet she could not help Jon.

“We have a good supply of remedies and bandages at the Keep,” Samwell assured her, “let’s take him in the cart,” the Grand Maester from King’s Landing’s Council found it easy and straightforward to confiscate one of the townies’ wagons, who gave it willingly. They will send it back to him later.

“Alright then, I will ride with him,” Dany ascertained, readying herself to help lift her husband.

Jon reached for Sam’s arm instead and made a straining attempt to pull himself upright into a sitting position, grunting as he succeeded. “I feel like I can do it,” he ascertained, mainly to reassure everyone.

It made her roll her eyes as they helped him to his feet, but it did take some weight off her chest in the form of hope. Whether he could stand unaided, that they didn’t get the chance to determine as the pairs of hands didn’t intend to let him go as they helped him clamber onto the back of the cart, more sliding up on his stomach, than climbing, eyes momentarily closing as he swallowed against his rising nausea. His entire left side felt as if on fire, the numbness of impending poison induced paralysis stemming from the anguish. Cramps were stirring in his belly and his head was bursting with pressure. Dany will not see him falter however, it had been demanding enough when his legs gave out on him when the initial shock hit. He positioned himself to lie onto his back, panting, all of his attention focussed on trying to get his body to obey him. He didn’t even notice Dany climbing up behind him, his head on her lap, or the blanket being wrapped around him. The motion of setting off kick-started the cramps and he bit his lips, not being able to help it, but lean against her support, breaths coming in short, weak gasps. Her hands tightened around him and he closed his eyes. All he could do was try to make it through one moment and maybe the next without crying out in agony. “Stop…Please…Stop it...I can’t…It hurts…” He whispered.

Dany shook her head, “I’m sorry Jon, we need to get you up to be treated as soon as possible while your Lord Tarly is trying to find out what poison had been used.”

The trek was excruciating on the uneven ground uphill, each jump of the wheel over loose stones and rubble causing a jolt of pain starting at his wound and stabbing all the way through him, cramps so forceful he’d lost all control over his muscles. Only his wife’s grip kept him steady, whimpers and small cries escaping his lips between other unintelligible fragments. Jon was used to pain, so seeing him like this alarmed Dany because it showed how bad his condition must be. His breath quickly became erratic and he could no longer plead. It was her who started to plead with fate this time, urging the horses to pull, pleading with Jon to hang on. It wasn’t far, it really wasn’t and Tarly had already trotted up the path with his own horse by the time they’ve reached the courtyard. He seemed to have summoned some servants to help them too. She let them take her burden, numb and dazed, devastation screwing a bolt deep into her heart, not very different to how a dagger would have had. She helped with securing the King inside the blanket to be carried, but then she just stood there, shaken and distraught. It took a touch of her shoulders from the Grand Maester till she came back to herself enough to be able to focus on the scholar, “I’m sorry, My Lord, I don’t know, what did you say?” Dany was thankful the man who used to be Jon’s best friend was around.

“The woman had Cleocite on her in a small jar. It is a poison used by the Mountains of the Moon Clans. It is relatively primitive. If that is the only thing she had used on the blade, I believe Jon shall live,” the Grand Maester held, “she lied about it exactly to make you worried.”

“But it was deep. The wound is deep,” she cried, “I thought he would hold on, why wasn’t he holding on?” Dany rambled, not caring she didn’t make much sense, nor that the man was maybe still her enemy.

The Councilman did indeed grunt disapprovingly in her direction and thenceforward disregarded her rambles, focussing on following the servants to where they were taking Jon. Symon approached her instead and she hadn’t even been aware he was around. “Are you injured, My Queen?” The former slave looked down on her bloodied dress, concerned.

“No. No, I’m not injured, don’t worry,” Dany shook her head, “none of this is my blood,” she looked down at herself in panic however. Everything from her boots to the leather bindings of her outer coat had been bathed in the red liquid. Jon has lost so much blood. “He saved me..” The words tumbled out of her at the same time as the tears. Then, she ran after the servants as well. She would hold onto Jon, no matter what it took or what the price was.

Tbc

Chapter Text

Chapter 26: Cat Tails

There was a lot of commotion in the corridors. It wasn’t as much the servants being useful, but everyone’s curiosity getting the better of them and compelling them to gather round this neatly painted, wooden door. The Queen had to slow her steps down not to bump into the bystanders, though they did part for her, their conversing quieting, some falling to their knees in front of their new ruler as they recognised her. A woman dressed in simple light tones bowed, “I am Dania Sved, I manage Maester Tarly’s household. I am forever at your service.”

“This is his room? Your master brought my husband here?”

“Yes, My Queen,” Dania knew her place, “these are the Small Council’s apartments. The Royal Apartments are further up in Maegor’s Holdfast.”

“Of course, because this was closer,” Daenerys explained the phenomenon herself.

“He’s been calling out for you,” Sam popped his head out the door as he heard her, “come and calm him while I tend to him.” He added a hand gesture to wave her over at once.

The apartment seemed cosy, airy and bright, as did the bed, snugly situated close to the fireplace, not that Dany has seen much of any of that as she reached for her husband’s hand. The servants seemed to have managed to undress him enough for access to the wound that Sam was in the middle of covering with some tincture. “Dany..” Jon’s voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and pained and there was so much desperation attached to it that the Queen froze, her heart breaking with the sound.

“I’m here..” She then glanced at the self-taught healer who could even cure greyscale. “Please tell me you still think Jon will recover now that you’ve seen the wound up close?” She swallowed, trepidation clutching her heart.

Sam frowned, “yes, as much as it is possible to tell. This brew should take the sting out of the poison, make him feel more relaxed. I don’t think the blade touched any vital organs and neither do I think the poison is enough to kill him. It just depends on how strong he is otherwise. Has he been well?”

“He has. Or I thought so..I don’t know if he’s been hiding stomach pains lately. He sometimes does..” Daenerys admitted a lot of weakness with the outburst.

“Stay with him,” Sam was getting some thread, “it is clear he’s a lot more settled when you’re holding him. I’m sorry Jon, this will hurt,” he let his friend know what he was up to by a squeeze of the invalid’s arm so that the procedure didn’t strike him unawares.

It was only Jon’s fingers that quivered a little in her hand and his head moved the tiniest bit, tilting in her direction at the poking of the needle. He questioned her presence this time, voice breaking with the effort of saying her name. “I’m here, my love,” she repeated, stroking the back of his hand, kissing his forehead. It did fill her with some relief when he was able to give her a small smile in return. It was how they stayed, forehead to forehead during the entirety of the procedure. Dany didn’t need to look, she knew when each stitch happened by the way his breathing changed.

“Now, rest,” Sam put a hand on both their shoulders in encouragement, seeming to have finished the task. “I will send word to your maids to bring you a change of clothes,” he remained considerate of her possible needs despite his feelings for the ruler, “I will then come back to check on him.”

“Thank you, Maester Tarly. I am grateful to you,” Dany meant her words. “And you,” she chastised Jon as soon as they were alone, “you’re not to do that again. Promise me this.”

“I will promise you no such thing. I will not let harm come to you if I can help it,” the King was rather feisty about that, notwithstanding his condition.

“Alright, but surely there was some other method of protecting me? You could have pushed the woman away, disabled her weapon, blocked it, anything!”

“It seemed the best way at the time, the quickest, the safest. And I am glad I did it,” Jon was back to whispering.

“Can we consider your so called debt paid already? A blade for a blade, it sounds fair, does it not? There’s no need for you to torture yourself anymore. If that is what comes out of this, then it was indeed worth it.”

“I do somehow feel better about that too,” Jon pondered.

“Good. You need your rest though. Sleep and we’ll talk. I will be here,” Dany didn’t trust herself to be able to let go of him for a long time, it had been too much of a scare.

Tbc

Chapter Text

Chapter 27: By Admittance

Dany raised her head from Jon’s chest when she felt him stirring. The Dragon Queen waited animatedly till he opened his eyes drowsily, but then she still demanded to know immediately, “how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he admitted with a groan, “but well enough. Yours forever it seems, as I live. How long have I been out for?”

“Only since last night. You’ve had a long night’s rest, that’s all.”

“Are you alright, my sweet? Any news out there?”

“No news of The Deep Ones if that’s what you’re asking. Everybody else seems to be counting their blessings for the time being. Sansa and Arya left to make sure everything’s the same in Winterfell too. And I want you not to ever step in the way of a weapon intended for my peril again, do you hear!” She intoned firmly, “did you want me heartbroken?”

Jon huffed, smiling deviously, “with respect, Your Grace, listen. I don't need your permission: I am a King,” he bickered.

Dany huffed back, but she acknowledged the truth in that, “I do hate that, you know, not always being able to tell you what to do, but I’ll allow it. I will go get Lord Tarly then, let him put some sense into you and make sure you will recover well.”

“Believe me, I will recover well enough with some of My Queen’s kisses,” Jon held onto her strong and started with a kiss to the top of her head.

Dany couldn’t say it wasn’t tempting to stay cocooned against him, with his warm weight on one side and the heat of the morning sun engulfing her on the other. “If not for your sake, but we should still be doing something constructive for the City.”

“Aye, and I can think of something more constructive,” he reached under her nightdress, for the City, or not.”

His expert touch into her folds left her incoherent for a while and with an impish grin. She fidgeted, trying to take maximum comfort out of what was on offer. She shouldn’t be so lost in a man, not her, but then again, it was her choice. Jon gave further proof of his fitness by ripping the tangled material off of her and raising up to kiss her exposed shoulders. Dany still thought she should take the brunt of the efforts and slid on top of him under the covers as she usually did, impaling herself on his similarly fit manhood. “I love you so much Jon, my one and only..” She panted out with ragged breaths, trembling, her walls squeezing around him, wanting to keep him to herself just as much as she longed to be with him for the rest of her days as kisses rained all over her breast and a wet tongue circling her nipples. His lips nipped and teased and sucked their way round to her shoulder where he took more of her skin into his mouth, pulling her against him hard, melting into her and plunging deeper, harder and she stopped worrying whether it hurt him. Dany felt his bulging manhood pulse inside her, warm and steely and silky with cum. The way it felt made her live reality behind, fire ignite inside of her, gasping for breath, eager for absolution. His hands were all over her, roaming desperately and with a strong grip before they settled on her bottom to pull her lower, going impossibly deeper. Daenerys arched back to facilitate it, hanging onto his neck till they bucked together into a common collapse, a moment that felt like being suspended in flight, reaching for the heights before their bodies gave into gravity, falling back as they were, entwined. But the tender touches didn’t wait too long to start and she smiled up at him contentedly from his chest while she claimed him again with a tight embrace, revelling herself in his strong arms. At times like this, she wondered how they could be two separate beings. “I don’t want to see King’s Landing ever again. Can we continue to rule from Mereen?”

Jon laughed, a genuine, full bellied sound he usually only had reserved for his older daughter’s mischiefs, “I don’t think I’m very fond of King’s Landing myself. I am hoping that I don’t need to see it, ever again.” He bent his neck to give her a peck on the lips as a wind down of their passionate affair.

“I don’t even want to rule, I miss the children and I just want to be with you and indulge you..”

The King laughed again, “maybe that’s what you want today” he murmured against the top of her head, “but you couldn’t stay away from it all for long, not when you know there are mouths to be fed, usurpers to put in their place.”

“A problem to solve another day?” She pleaded with a sigh and looked up at him, into his sunny, brown eyes, mesmerised by what she was seeing. He never had that look before, completely happy and relaxed. They had no more debt left, not to each other and not to anyone.

The End.