A/N: SPOILER ALERT! Okay, so with two more episodes left, I need to make this fast, so it might not be as long and detailed as I'm usually eager to do, but I wanted to get my predictions out there for the end of Game of Thrones Season 8 and the TV series as a whole. We already saw The Long Night, where our heroes stood against Death itself at the Battle of Winterfell and Arya defeated the Night King. Now here's my prediction for the Last War!

A/N2: This has been UPDATED from it's original post! I forgot about Davos Seaworth, and I rearranged some things to make the planning a little smoother. Politics and war are not my strong suit lol

Daenerys stormed away from Cersei with murder in her eyes and fire in her veins. Tyrion rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what she planned to do. Not even his clever words could cut through Cersei's heart of stone. Daenerys had trusted him for the last time.

She held back tears. She had loved Messandei like a sister, but they had precious little time to plan their next move. She commanded the Unsullied to follow her back, but Greyworm lingered, staring at the bloody mess that was Messandei. Daenerys stopped, turned, and repeated the order. Greyworm looked back at her with glassy eyes and a tense jaw. She telegraphed with her eyes that now was not the time for tears. If they could not save Messandei, they would avenge her.

They returned to Dragonstone where Jon and the rest of the armies had been stationed for the surrender negotiation. Daenerys knew her men were depleted and exhausted after the Long Night, the Dothraki were almost entirely decimated, and she was down to only one dragon. A part of her was upset that Rhaegall had fallen and Jon could no longer fly with her, but a part of her wanted her to be the only one to ride, the chosen one, special. It was only her and Drogon now, named for her late beloved husband. She stroked his scaly cheek, not wanting to risk his life in the upcoming battle, but knowing he was the key advantage they had. Now that Cersei had reinforcements and multiple Scorpions lining the ramparts, the upcoming war was leveled, perhaps the scales had even tipped the other direction.

No. Daenerys was meant to sit on the iron throne. She could feel it in the fire in her blood, burning with every beat of her heart. She would claim the iron throne for House Targaryen. But Cersei wasn't her only competition. The man she loved, her supposed nephew, also had claim, though he insisted he didn't want the title or the responsibility. The people loved him, she couldn't deny it. He was humble, did what was right, and that's why she fell for him. He was a good man. She would kill for him, but would she give up her life long dream for him? Killing was certainly easier, especially with a dragon at your side.

In the conference room, Jon, Ser Davos, Tyrion, Varys and Greyworm stood, ready to counsel and receive orders. They could tell from Daenerys' hard expression that the meeting would not go well.

"We need to attack. What's our best strategy?" she asked, not wasting any time.

Varys looked wary, but Tyrion stepped forward. "If I may, Your Grace, I-"

"No, you may not," she said coolly.

"Forgive me, I beg your pardon?"

"You shall have your pardon," she responded. "I pardon you of all your responsibilities. This is the third time you have thought you could outsmart your sister, and this is the third time you have failed. You are no longer fit to be called the Hand of the Queen."

Everyone in the room froze, looking around. Tyrion cleared his throat. "Now, let's not be too hasty. We need to think. Cersei is already three steps ahead of us, we need to-"

"Precisely. She is three steps ahead of us because we gave her a chance to be. Your so-called brilliant mind has caused us to lose one of my greatest advisors and friend. It is time to retire in honor...while you still have the chance." Daenerys held out her hand, waiting for the dwarf to hand over the pin.

Tyrion fingered it, unwilling to give it up. He pried it from his vest and laid it in her pale hand. "May I ask what all this entails?" he asked, hanging his head.

Daenerys looked around the room. Varys' eyes were wide and glued to her every movement. Jon was bewildered, but seemed to show some sympathy for the small man. Daenerys considered her options. Tyrion had indeed been faithful to her, albeit a little overconfident. He truly believed in her, so she couldn't very well banish him. Even if she did, she wondered if he would go back to Cersei and tell her just how vulnerable she was. She swallowed hard, wanting him to pay for his incompetence, but she knew she needed him on her side.

"I am not banishing you. You may continue to serve me as my subject, but I believe the title of Hand should go to someone a bit more qualified."

She surveyed the four men in front of her, each with their strengths. Ser Davos was already Hand to Jon, and Greyworm had enough on his plate as Head Commander of the Unsullied, as well as dealing with his grief over Messandei. It was between Varys and Jon Snow...or should she say Aegon?

"Varys," she said, approaching him with the pin. "You have served me well over the years."

The Spider seemed stunned. "Wh-why, yes, I have, Your Grace."

"You know more about the world than any one else, know my enemies as well as my allies. You will be my Hand and lead us to victory." She secured the pin on his robe as his mouth hung open. "Is it not common for eunuchs to serve as Hands?"

"Commonalities aside, I had not considered serving as Hand. A simple advisor on the council, perhaps. This is a great responsibility," Varys said with a pointed look towards Tyrion. The dwarf met his gaze with a wary expression.

"Do you accept?"

Above all, Varys served the realm. Tyrion warned him with his eyes not to betray Daenerys. Varys glanced at the small pin on his chest, debating his acceptance. He surely had a role to play, but he was The Spider. His way of serving up to this point had been collecting information, hiding behind the scenes. Being Hand was much more public and much more serious. What would best serve the realm? He knew who he wanted to rule, but he knew with even more certainty who should not be on the iron throne.

"I accept," he said...if only to defeat Cersei. He would play his part until it was over. Varys looked to Jon, who seemed somewhat disappointed and confused.

"Do not disappoint me," Daenerys warned.

"Never, Your Grace," Varys replied, bowing at the waist.

"You are dismissed," she said over her shoulder to Tyrion. He nodded and left with his head low. When the door clicked shut, she got straight back to business. "What is our best course of action?"

"Well," Varys began. "I am not typically a man of war, and you've just excused the one person with extensive knowledge of the place."

Daenerys rolled her eyes, already regretting her decision. "I need to know how to defeat them. I only have one dragon against how many of those things mounted around the walls. I've lost two children; I will not lose my last!"

Ser Davos surveyed the table detailing Westeros. "Euron Greyjoy has control of the sea, so a naval advance would be futile. We found that out the hard way."

"Don't remind me," Daenerys muttered.

Jon shifted, wanting to comfort her, but it felt wrong. This wasn't the time, and he still had to come to terms with his own identity.

"My Queen," Greyworm interjected. "They do not know how many we have. Let the Unsullied and Westerosi armies attack head on with the Dothraki coming in from behind."

"It's still a fortress, not an ambush in the woods," Jon pointed out. "It'll only take longer."

"Shall we ask the local fortress expert?" Varys suggested. "Perhaps someone who knows the castle well could tell us of a way to sneak in without murdering all those innocents she's packed into the walls, similar to our siege on Casterly Rock."

Her nostrils flared as she sneered. She hated that she needed Tyrion. "Greyworm, fetch him."

"Yes, My Queen," he complied, exiting and returning a few minutes later with the dwarf.

"You are in need of my assistance?" the small man asked with a smirk.

Daenerys glared at him. "All is not forgiven. However, I can see that I am at a disadvantage. Is there a way to get into the castle without going through the innocent?"

"Hmmm... Funny you should ask. Though I was not in charge of the sewer systems, for the Red Keep is much older, I do seem to remember a tunnel from my youth," he said, examining King's Landing on the map. "The entrance is located within the sandstone walls between the Red Keep and the Iron Gate. The tunnel will take you up into the dungeons, avoiding all the riff raff."

"I'll give you one last chance to prove yourself, Lord Tyrion," Daenerys warned. "Lead the Dothraki through the tunnel unseen an hour before dawn. Take out as many guards on the inside as possible, as silently as you can for as long as you can manage. I want to save my people. How many do we have?" she asked Greyworm.

"Thirty, My Queen."

"Each Dothraki warrior is as good as ten Westerosi soldiers," Daenerys reminded herself and everyone else. "With a thousand Unsullied and those fighting for Jon, we should be fine."

"Shall I remind you that Queen Cersei has the Golden Company at her disposal?" added Varys.

"She is no Queen here," she snapped at him. "You'll do well to remember that."

"Yes, Your Grace," he nodded.

"The Golden Company will fall just like the Lannisters, erased from the history books. Are there any other questions or concerns?" she asked.

She looked around the room. Tyrion seemed pleased with himself. Varys was satisfied. Greyworm looked ready to march immediately. Jon Snow remained unreadable. Ser Davos wrinkled his face and stepped forward.

"But what of the fleet?" he asked.

"I will take care of the fleet."

"But, Your Grace-"

She stepped forward, furious he was questioning her. She slammed her hand next to the tiny figures in Blackwater Bay. "All of the Greyjoy ships will be there defending the city. If I can swing out over The Narrow Sea without being detected, I should be able to sneak up behind Massey's Hook and burn the fleet, just like he snuck up on us." Davos looked impressed.

The door opened unexpectedly, and they all turned to the intruder, Jon and Greyworm drawing their swords. In the doorway stood a very tall man with long, stringy hair and a mutilated face. He was with a small girl with a serious expression.

"What are you doing here?" Jon asked the girl, lowering his weapon.

Yes, Daenerys had seen them before at the Battle of Winterfell. The panic of the next war had her mind scrambled. Jon's sister, Arya, and her friend, The Hound.

"We have some unfinished business," Arya said with a smirk.

"Which is?" Daenerys asked.

"I've a vendetta against Cersei," she replied casually, then pointed to her companion. "He wants The Mountain."

Daenerys considered her words. She had expected to burn Cersei alive herself and hear her screams. But how close could she get if she was on her only dragon surrounded by Scorpions? The honor of killing Cersei might have to go to someone else if Daenerys couldn't get to her. She assessed Arya head to toe. There was a healing gash on her head, but other than that, she seemed to be unscathed by their fight with Death. With word spreading quickly that Arya was the one who ultimately defeated the Night King, she seemed a formidable ally. Her friend also seemed able, and much more intimidating.

"You two may accompany Lord Tyrion and the Dothraki through a tunnel into the dungeons. You should get some rest. You move an hour before dawn," Daenerys instructed.

Arya glanced at Jon before nodding. The Hound's nod was significantly smaller.

Jon had been awfully quiet, and it was driving Daenerys mad. His brow was furrowed in thought, but he wouldn't say a word. She turned to him. "What say you, King of the North?"

"I've never fought with or against the Lannisters," he said, glancing at the others. "I know nothing about them. What I do know is that we survived The Great War. If we can get through that, then we can get through anything as long as we're together." He met her green eyes with determination.

Daenerys' heart fluttered. She knew that he meant the battle ahead, but a part of her wanted to think that they could get through this growing rift between them. If only she could rewind time or forget the words he'd said in the crypt. He was her brother's son. No, he was her true love. She had given up all hope since Khal Drogo died, resigned to life as a widow. She had her romp with Daario, but she hadn't loved him as she loved Jon. They shared a deep bond, but she tried to ignore the ties of blood.

"So it's decided," she said to snap herself out of her thoughts. "They don't know the Dothraki live, so Tyrion will lead them with Arya and The Hound through the secret tunnel an hour before dawn. The Unsullied and Northern armies will march head on at Dragon Gate to keep the enemy distracted. I'll burn the Greyjoy fleet in a surprise attack. We're all agreed?"

Everyone nodded, and she smiled, knowing how close her dream was to becoming a reality.

Later that night, Jon couldn't sleep, so he went to Dany's door and knocked. She opened it and hesitated. She wanted to run into his arms, and he wanted to scoop her up. But things were different now.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Of course," Daenerys replied the only way she could. She opened the door wider and he took a seat on the edge of her bed. She hugged herself, waiting for him to say he wanted the iron throne for himself.

"I don't know how to feel..." he said.

She could feel it coming. He was about to break up with her. The only other man she had been able to love. Daario loved her, Jorah pined for her, but she could only love Drogo and Jon. She couldn't bear the pain of losing him, by his own fault or on the battlefield. She could feel her throat tighten, as if his words were physically choking her. She held back tears.

"All my life I've been treated like horse shit. The woman who raised me didn't love me. I've been reminded I'm a bastard every single day of my miserable life. And then all of a sudden, I have another name, a true name. I don't know how to feel."

Daenerys blinked. All he wanted was someone to talk to, and here she was thinking about the end. But she had no idea how he felt. She had always known who she was. Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen. She had only ever added titles to an already prominent name in Westeros. She tried to find some sort of humility in her heart to relate to him. She had been a slave, but even then she knew who she was and broke free. "I was a prisoner once."

"Prisoner is different," Jon corrected her. "A prisoner is someone who has done something bad and is paying for their sins. A bastard is someone who's done nothing wrong, but still gets treated as something less than, as if my father's sins are my own. Even living in a noble house, I was treated like a peasant, discarded when I came of age."

"At least you weren't a thing to be traded," she muttered, staring into the fireplace as if in a trance. "I was raised with my other brother, Viserys in a nobleman's house that wasn't my own. I was sold to the Dothraki as a wife to Khal Drogo, nothing more than a bag of gold to my brother, for I was payment for an army. Viserys wouldn't stop talking about it. How he paid for the Dothraki, but they wouldn't follow him. He would make scenes, screaming how he wanted to be King, he wanted to sit on the iron throne, he wanted a golden crown."

Her scowl softened, as she remembered the night in the tent where he arrived drunk and threatened her unborn child. The way the firelight reflected off of Khal Drogo's bulging muscles and the sharp angles of his face came back to her clearer than ever. She could again see the anger burning in his dark eyes as he watched the tip of Viserys' forbidden sword. "So my husband gave him a golden crown to wear forever. It killed him. But it broke my chains."

"Breaker of Chains," he said, one of her many titles.

"I have followers like the Dothraki and Messandei-" Daenerys choked on her friend's name. "Because I freed them. I freed thousands of slaves all over Essos. They follow me not because they fear me, or because of my name. They support me because they want to, because they believe in me. Much like your people believe in you." She looked at him then, teetering on the edge of jealousy and fuzzy feelings. An odd combination.

"They believe in me because I'm a man of my word. Even if Ned Stark isn't really my father, I've always tried to live like him. He's the best man I ever knew."

She couldn't stop herself. "What would he think of me?"

He raised his chocolate eyes to meet hers. He admired her gorgeous white curls falling freely down her back, her fiery green eyes, her sweet face and pink cheeks. "He'd love you," he said. He was telling the truth, though Ned might be concerned if he knew of their "deeper" relationship. If only he had told him before Jon went off to the Wall.

Jon remembered how they parted ways, Ned heading South to King's Landing with his sisters. His father had said, "The next time we see each other, I'll tell you about your mother," but the day never came. King Joffrey made sure of that. There was a small part of Jon that would feel good knowing the mother of all evil would meet her end tomorrow.

Had he learned of his mother sooner, would it have made a difference? Would knowing his true name change the feelings in his heart that told him he would die for this woman in front of him?

For his aunt.

No.

He dismissed his own thoughts by standing and kissing her. Her lips were soft and pliable beneath his. He grabbed her arms and pulled her close, closer than the truth that hung at the edge of his mind. Dany ran her hands through his wild dark hair. He picked her up and pushed her against the wall, devouring her mouth with a ravenous hunger. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he pressed into her. He wanted her so bad, but his little friend wasn't getting the memo.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, and he bit her neck. She made a sound halfway between pleasure and pain. He felt her breasts pushing against his chest with every haggard breath. Her nails dug into him, but he didn't mind. He kissed along her collar bone, then heard her voice in his ear, "Stop."

He was sure he misheard her. "Don't stop," is what she meant to say. He nipped at her shoulder, but she said, louder, "Stop."

He pulled away from her, panting. He furrowed his brow, knowing exactly what was bothering her, the same thing that had been bothering him and keeping him up at night. "Dany, please..."

She pushed on his shoulders, and he backed up, allowing her to slide back down to the floor. He cupped her cheeks, wanting nothing more than to look at her for the rest of his life. He held back tears knowing it was wrong.

"Perhaps we can figure this out once we've won the war. We must stay focused." She was trying to convince him as well as herself.

His dark eyes searched her face for doubt, but she kept her expression controlled. "Yes, My Queen. I'm yours," he said, again telling the truth, but feeling the twist in his gut that told him he shouldn't love her.

A single tear slipped past Daenerys' defenses. She saw the earnest look in his eyes, knew he wanted her. She just couldn't figure out what she loved more: Jon or the throne. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you." Jon kissed her deeply, and she wrapped her arms around him. With a deep breath, they parted, and he went back to his own room. Daenerys closed the door and cried herself to sleep.