In the aftermath of the greatest battle of all time, it was almost impossible for Daenerys not to look back on her life and on the paths that took her this far. Her thoughts wandered through memories so old she had almost forgotten about them. She recalled the lemon tree and the red door, back when she never even dreamed about being Khaleesi of the Dothraki or the Breaker of Chains, when all she wanted was to live a simple and happy life. Back then, the Iron Throne was just a tale to her, part of her brothers ambition and nothing more than an unknown figure too far away for her eyes to see and to really matter. How much she had grown since then, even if it took a fair share of pain and struggling.
The Mother of Dragons had birthed four children, and now only two of them were left. She had thought that nothing could be more painful than seeing Viserion die, but watching him as a puppet to the enemy was ten times worse. Daenerys supposed, then, that being robbed from the right to stay dead was even worse than death itself. Two nights ago, she had almost lost everything again. Half her people the Dothraki, the Unsullied &In the aftermath of the greatest battle of all time, it was almost impossible for Daenerys not to look back on her life and on the paths that took her this far. Her thoughts wandered through memories so old she had almost forgotten about them. She recalled the lemon tree and the red door, back when she never even dreamed about being Khaleesi of the Dothraki or the Breaker of Chains, when all she wanted was to live a simple and happy life. Back then, the Iron Throne was just a tale to her, part of her brother's ambition and nothing more than an unknown figure too far away for her eyes to see and to really matter. How much she had grown since then, even if it took a fair share of pain and struggling.
The Mother of Dragons had birthed four children, and now only two of them were left. She had thought that nothing could be more painful than seeing Viserion die, but watching him as a puppet to the enemy was ten times worse. Daenerys supposed, then, that being robbed from the right to stay dead was even worse than death itself. Two nights ago, she had almost lost everything again. Half her people – the Dothraki, the Unsullied – were gone, and it was still far from over. However, she knew she couldn't let hopelessness get to her, and had to be a strong queen.
Still, looking across the crowed room, full of people cheering and loudly celebrating their victory, Daenerys didn't feel much like a queen at all. She still recalled what it was like to be looked at with respect and hope, everything a true ruler should inspire, but it wasn't like this for her here, across the Narrow Sea. The hero, the leader getting all the praise and recognition for their bravery and sacrifice wasn't her, as crowd sang Jon's praises. But then again, Daenerys wasn't even sure she could blame them for looking at him like that, considering that her eyes sparkled in a very similar fashion every time she caught a glimpse of the dark haired man. Even so, she was certain she wasn't being very good at hiding her hurtful feelings upon hearing all the words they had reserved just for him. Who else would ride a dragon and come to their aid? Tormund had said. Only a mad man or a king.
In that moment, Daenerys really took her time eyeing the crowd, spotting the ones who were there because they swore loyalty to the King in the North and the ones she had brought here. Everyone looked like they belonged there with each other, driking and celebrating together like there was no tomorrow – maybe there wasn't, after all. The terrible truth hit her like a rock, then. She really was alone in all this, wasn't she? And being a Targaryen alone in the world was a terrible thing.
With the most polite - and visibly fake for the few who were actually paying attention – smile she could muster, Daenerys got to her feet and went to her chambers, not letting her posture falter until she was certain no one eles was watching. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried out of something other than grief, but she wept for very long that night. Maybe she couldn't display weakness in front of her people, but there was nothing wrong in allowing herself to be vulnerable once in a while, with no one close to witness her display of emotion. What good was the throne if she was to sit on it alone? A few months back, that would be a stupid thought, one she wouldn't even entertain. The blonde never saw herself as someone who could fall and do stupid things for love, but here she was anyway, fighting up North and risking everything she had for the man who stole her heart right off her sleeve.
Daenerys didn't know exactly how much time had passed since she had entered the chambers, but she was already on the brink of sleep when a subtle knock on the door made itself audible across the room. Maybe she shouldn't dare hope it was him, but she did nonetheless.
"Come in" said the blonde, her voice a bit raw from all the previous crying. Her face was no longer wet from the tears, but a close observer could easily put the pieces together. Still, she knew Jon probably wouldn't coment on it, being a sensitive man when it came to important matters.
The door opened slowly to reveal him, and instead of walking to her, the dark haired man hesitated by the door. He looked a little bit drunk, which wasn't surprising at all considering the amount of alcohol she had seen him ingest earlier under the loud vigilance of the wildlings. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the man walked slow steps towards her, an unreadable look on his face. Daenerys knew he was there because they needed to talk – now that there was no imminent threat to their lives, or real reasons to pospone it -, but she had been dreading that conversation dearly. The woman feared all the implications of that discovery, on the realm, but most importantly on them. Gods, she wasn't ready to let him go yet, nor was she certain she would ever be. The Iron Throne had been her goal for a long time, but Jon Snow had crept his way into her heart in unknown ways.
In that moment, Daenerys just wanted to kiss him and make all their worries go away; so she did. Their lips crashed and they were in a bubble, far away from the Seven Kingdoms or Targeryens heritages or matters regarding the righful heir to the throne. She didn't think about the Others, or the Night King or the loss of yet another child. Her thoughts didn't envolve Cersei or the war that was yet to come, or advisers and battle choices. In that moment, it was only Daenerys and Jon. Not Daenerys and Aegon Targaryen, the only living son of her older brother.
The fairytale moment didn't last long, though. After what seemed like only mere and short seconds, Jon pulled away, distancing himself from her to go stand by the lit fire. "I wish you'd never told me." The woman confessed, hearing her own voice sound weak and dissapointed. "If I didn't know, I'd be happy right now." Her back was to him, because Daenerys wasn't sure she could look him in the eyes while saying those words. "Tonight I did, for a while. But then I saw them gathered around you. I notice the way the look at you, Jon." Some many people had looked at me like that, but never here, the woman thought.
"I told you I don't want it." His tone was also heavy, but the words were sincere. She never doubted his claim, but it things were so much more complicated than that.
"It doesn't matter what you want, Jon. You didn't want to be King in the North, and they still made you their leader. Once people know of your true heritage, they'll press you into taking the throne." Daenerys knew she sounded exasperated, but all of it was so frustrating she just couldn't help it. Why couldn't things just go back to the way the were before? It was like fate was spitting on her face, showing her a glimpse of happines just to take it away from her in the meanest way. Was she really destined to be all alone in the end?
"You know how much I care for the North and the people, but they don't own me. If they demand me to take the Iron Throne, I'll refuse. You are my queen, Dany, I don't know what eles I can say." Now he was kneeling in front of her, his eyes showing all the truth his words carried.
Dany took a deep breath and sighed, closing her eyes as her heart beat fast. She knew things would never be the same again, no matter how badly she wanted it to work. Still, the Dragon Queen was just not ready to let go of happiness just yet. A million thoughts were running wild through her mind, and for a moment she considered asking him to never tell another soul about his secret. The throne wasn't the only thing that was at stake here; although it was rather common between Targaryens to marry within the family, the rest of Westeros wouldn't approve of it. The blonde knew it was a matter of time before one reason or another separated the two of them, but she just refused to be the one to break the link. She wouldn't.
"That's enough, then." whispered Dany, getting close to him for the second time that night. Maybe this was fated to end tragically, but in that moment she just couldn't bring herself to care. The young queen closed the distance between them once again, and when their lips met this time, there wasn't hesitation on Jon's part. The kisses became more and more eratic, both their hands wandering each other's bodies, as if trying to memorize every curve and feature. The furs and underclothes they wore followed soon after, hitting the ground as their bodies met the bed, engaging in the most delicious dance only the two of them knew how to performe with each other.
Hours later, Daenerys laid awake in bed, feeling Jon's body heat right next to her with his left arm wrapped around her waist. Maybe they were, indeed, doomed to end terribly, but right now all that mattered was that she was in the arms of the man she loved.