The popping and cracking sounds the fire makes is all she can hear. Everything else around her blurred and muted as she stands in front of the roaring fireplace at Dragonstone.
They should not be here, she thought. They should be back out there, fighting for those who lost their lives in a war that they did not start instead of sitting around waiting. Waiting for the dead to rise and march south and take everything else they hold dear.
As Daenerys looks amongst the flames, she longs to feel angry at the mad queen who did not keep her promise. Furious that she broke an oath that cost many people their lives. Her people. The people who look up to her to save them from the long night. But what she felt most inside were mere whispers of heartache and despair.
She reaches out, letting the flames lick at her fingertips, hoping to feel something other than the deep pit within her stomach. A spark of fiery, a jolt of courage, a flash of hope; anything besides the numbness and senses of dread that spread throughout her.
But it was useless. All she felt were the silent, wet tears the slipped down her face; hot against her cool skin despite being so close to the fire.
For once in Daenerys life she felt the cold. She had not felt it when she crossed the narrow seas and sailed to Dragonstone for the first time, not when she rode Drogon further north to rescue Jon and the others beyond the wall and lost her child, Viserion, not even during the battle at Winterfell when she watched her most trusted advisor, her truest friend fall at the hands of a man without a beating heart.
She felt it now as the cold seeped into her bones and settled deep within her core. No amount of fires, blankets, or hot soups could keep it at bay. It ate away at her day and night every since they arrived back at Dragonstone with what little army they had left; reminding her of how much she had already lost and will lose. For the first time she truly felt hopeless against what's to come.
Daenerys does not notice the man behind her move, her mind too preoccupied as it plagues her with unwanted thoughts. She does not feel him come up behind her until his arms are sliding around her slender frame, pulling her back against his chest.
It is the first time he has touched her since the news about his heritage broke, and it only makes her cry harder.
Daenerys closes her eyes as she lets him hold her, letting out a shaky breath when he squeezes her tighter against himself. She does not get to bask in the feelings of being in his arms for long, as he turns her around to look her in the eye.
The sorrow within his eyes is almost too much for her to handle along with her own. She can feel herself turn away, but he does not allow her to as he places a tender, but firm hand against her cheek. His hand surprisingly warm and soft to the touch.
Jon does not say a word as he leans forward slowly, closing his eyes to place a gentle kiss against her temple. The both of them taking a moment to bask in this moment. Daenerys tries to charise every second he allows her before he moves away to get back to his sworn duty; but he does not pull away like she expects. Instead, Jon moves to place his forehead against her own, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he breathes her in. And in that moment Daenerys feels that spark.
She feels that spark of fiery, that jolt of courage, that flash of hope that she desperately craved. It spreads throughout her veins, making her blood tingle as his touch reminds her of everything she has lost, and everything she could lose if she gives up now.
She realizes now that he is the fire that ignites her when her embers are burning low. And together they will start a fire so large and mighty that it will spread across all of Westeros, Essos, and the Narrow Sea. Together they will create the biggest fire the world has ever seen.