JON
How long he had lingered outside the door, he did not know. Never in his life had Jon Snow been called craven, but at this moment he felt as though the life's blood were draining from his head, leaving him dizzy. He extended his ungloved hand, it hovered in front of the sigil of the curled, three-headed dragon but it was no use- he could not muster the courage to knock. He had thought he had known this feeling before, a lifetime ago now it seemed. Beyond The Wall love had nearly destroyed him. Broken vows and a ravenous lust drove him into the arms of the wildling woman kissed by fire, but here, now, he could not put to word what drove him to pace in front of Daenerys Stormborn's door. Months ago he had come ashore on Dragonstone unaware of what waited for him. It was said the Dragon Queen was fierce and beautiful, yet instead of finding the cruel foreign indaver the Northern Lords warned him of, he discovered something much more terrifying. Though he did not understand it, nor did he know it was missing to begin with, he discovered a piece of him reflected in the Dragon Queen's lavender eyes. The realization left him cold.
The first night while hosted at Dragonstone he dreamt of a great dragon- a three-headed behemoth not unlike the sigil of House Targaryen. Jon stood atop a cliff where below green waves smashed into jagged gray rock. Soon the dragon turned towards Jon, its heads gnashing and snarling, its great wings the length of two warships end to end. The throats of the beast began to glow with a terrible red light, and although Jon knew what was coming, he couldn't bring himself move from where he stood. Jon braced himself as the fire began to envelop and swirl around him, but he discovered it was cool to the touch. He ungloved his hand and outstretched it, letting the flames run through his fingers as though it were a mountain stream. After the dragonfire ceased Jon woke with a start and drenched in cold sweat. The next morning when he had gone down to break his fast, the queen was markedly absent and he remembered what he saw in her eyes in the throne room the day before. The hole he felt in his chest grew larger, and Jon grew uneasy. Though his days were productive, at night the dreams continued and made him restless. Each morning he awoke tired. As the weeks wore on atop the cliffs of Dragonstone, he understood what was happening to him and he could no longer ignore it. Daenerys Stormborn was the one to fill the emptiness inside him. And the emptiness had become too much to bear.
It was the thought of her eyes and the empty feeling in his chest that finally drove him to knock. He cursed himself, you're a fool and a bastard. He let out a heaping breath. Almost as though she'd been waiting for him, Daenerys swung the wooden door open and met Jon's gaze, her lavender eyes already searching for the same answers. She let the door swing further open, wordlessly inviting him into her bedchamber. At that moment, the craven left Jon as he stepped towards her: the woman who held his missing pieces. He grabbed ahold of the iron-laced door and closed it, his gaze unbroken with hers.
"Jon," Daenerys began, but stopped short, realizing nothing more had to be said between them in this moment. The answers to so many unspoken questions they found in the pool of each other's eyes. Jon grabbed onto the small of her back and pulled her close. He could feel her short, stuttered breaths. She is trembling. His free hand moved almost instinctively to her face, cupping her braids in his rough, calloused palm. She was burning. The blood of the dragon, thought Jon. Their bodies broke the tangible silence, and Daenerys and Jon crashed into each other. Her mouth was sweet with the taste of wine, her lips full and supple. Daenerys sent frantic, searching hands down the length of his chest and stomach, looking to undo the clasps on his leather gambeson. Jon met her hands with his, guiding them as she undid each with a tempered fervor. He laid a kiss on her neck, leaving a trail of them as she continued to undo his tunic until his chest was finally exposed to the flickering candlelight. She stopped for a moment, her wide eyes meeting the scars that littered the expanse of his torso. Jon wondered what she was thinking. She began to kiss them, the fleshy wounds scattered over Jon's chest and abdomen. Her hands clung onto the sides of his muscled torso. One by one, she ran her mouth over his wounds as though to heal them and by doing so healing the hole Jon had felt grow in his chest.
After she had kissed them all, she straightened herself, but Jon had already found the clasps of her dress and began undoing them. It fell around her in a cascade of black, her round breasts laid bare for Jon. Once more their mouths found each other, their kisses had become more panicked and hungry, as if trying to outrun the tragedy they know almost certainly awaited them. Tangled together, they found their way to the feather bed and Jon gently pushed the queen onto it. She smiled as she landed on her back, her silver hair curled around her face like the tail of the great dragon, her breasts bouncing. Jon slid the rest of his tunic from his shoulders and turned his attention towards the remaining underclothes that still imprisoned Daenerys. He wanted to look at her. All of her. With both hands he tugged her underskirt from around her waist and tossed it to the floor, all the while their gaze never parting.
Jon pulled his boots off and unlaced his trousers with a measured intensity. Daenerys had reclined on her elbows, languidly drinking in each heave of Jon's chest, each curl of shadow black hair that fell around his face as he undressed himself. Finally, bare as his name day, Jon crept atop of Daenerys Stormborn. Straddling her, he took a breast into his mouth and felt Daenerys resign herself to him, collapsing into the oblivion. Surrender. With a single exploring hand, Jon felt his way over Daenerys taut stomach and towards the wetness between her thighs. He entered her with his fingers to which she responded with a breathless groan, and rolled her head back in ecstacy. Dany pulled Jon's mouth to hers and together they grew frantic. A sense of urgency overcame them all at once. In a single, swift motion, Jon pulled himself atop Daenerys, and with his knee pushed her thigh aside and entered her.
Rhythmically, hungrily, Dany pressed him hard against her, pulling him deeper inside. Two waves from separate storms crashing against each other. All the while, Jon could not bring himself to stop putting his lips against hers, couldn't stop wanting to taste her. Suddenly, however, and without warning, Jon pulled away from Daenerys. Her lips were red and swollen, her hair tousled and mussed, but she had never looked more beautiful than she did at that moment and Jon wanted to make sure it was all real. Still hard and inside her, he let out a heaving sigh and searched her face. Eyes locked onto each others, they finally understood: everything they had undergone had brought them to this moment. Overcome with the realization, Jon plunged back into the fire.
It was Daenerys who came first, but the thought of her experiencing so much pleasure by his own doing sent Jon headlong into a release he didn't think possible. Trembling and glistening with sweat, he slid down off her, and brought her to rest on his chest. He did not know how long they laid there in silence, but he knew what she was thinking and a sadness overcame him. They were heading into what was almost certain death and neither of them could afford to abandon duty for the sake of love. Yet here they were, Jon Snow and Daenerys Stormborn, overcome and exhausted from the release of what seemed like a lifetime of searching for each other. The old gods are cruel.
"Dany," Jon whispered quietly into the fading light of the cabin.
"Jon," Dany replied, her head still pressed against the rise and fall of his chest.
"I don't pretend to know what will happen when we dock, or when the Night King will come for us, but I do know that I am yours. Forever." Dany pulled herself from off his chest, once again looking deep into his brown eyes.
"I am yours, Jon Snow. Forever." She leaned into kiss him but felt herself overwhelmed. Overwhelmed at the task ahead, overwhelmed at losing Viserion, but most of all overwhelmed by the unknown and what it might bring. Perhaps it would bring Jon atop a funeral pyre. Perhaps it would bring children and laughter. Still holding her mouth to his, she began to cry. Holding her head in both his hands, Jon pulled her mouth away from his.
"Your Grace, you are..." He trailed off, searching for the right words to attach to what he felt, but he could not. She was right to cry. She was right to fear. And so he said nothing and held her against him, letting her tears stream down her face and onto his chest. Finally finding his resolve, Jon lifted Daenerys chin between his thumb and finger, and turned it upwards towards him. "Your Grace, my entire life has led me to you. To this moment. Whatever happens, you must know you have made me whole."