Danaerys stared down at the privvy in disbelief, looking at the remains of her dinner from the night before. This was the fifth morning that week that she'd been sick, and she couldn't quell the flutter of nervousness and disbelief.
Could she really be with child?
She had believed for years now that she was barren, that her only children would be her dragons. The possibility that she could conceive had never even crossed her mind.
Overwhelming was an understatement.
This child would absolutely change everything. This type of union between the Targaryens and the Lord of the North would likely cement them as allies for good.
Gods, Jon...
First, she would have to tell him. She should get a raven out to him immediately. If he had to make it to her side in eight months time, he needed to be aware of when to start from the North. And then there was the question of whether he would stay-
No. Danaerys stopped halfway down the corridor. She had to tell Tyrion first. She started down the hallway, then stopped again. She had to go back to her chambers and get dressed.
Fifteen minutes later, Danaerys was sitting up in her study, properly dressed, her heart thudding beneath her breast. She'd declined Doreah's offer of wine, but still wished she had some to steady her nerves.
Tyrion's inevitable knock made her jump.
"Enter." She said, clenching her hands beneath her desk to cease their shaking.
Tyrion walked in, eyebrow raised. He stood before her desk, declining her gesture towards the opposite chair.
Danaerys started to speak, but she found that her throat was stuck shut. She shut her mouth and stared out the open window space.
"Should I be worried?" Tyrion asked in his usual dry way. Danaerys laughed in spite of herself, feeling surprising tears spring from her eyes. To her surprise, Tyrion came around the opposing chair to sit down.
"You're pregnant, aren't you?" Tyrion said. He knew. He always did.
"Yes. Can you believe it?" She was crying in earnest now.
"Well. I guess the matter of succession is solved." Tyrion said simply. "But there is another matter."
"I am not married?"
"No, I don't think anyone could force you to marry if they tried." Tyrion shook his shaggy curls. "But you are now more vulnerable than ever. And you will continue to be vulnerable as long as the child is alive."
A chill ran down Danaerys' spine. Her goals of creating a safer world were hardly realistic once her claim to the throne was established by bloodline... She could easily end up cold and childless like Cersei Lannister. All it would take is an arrow or two...
"Obviously, you need to inform Jon Snow. I should imagine he will be surprised."
"Hardly." Danaerys snorted. "I think he was more adamant about attempting conception than you."
"I think the only thing Jon Snow is adamant about is those blasted white walkers. Conception probably seemed like a side conquest."
"Ever the optimist." Danaerys smiled.
"Allow me my concerns. Someone has to worry about you two headstrong fools. God help me when your child gains the power to walk."
"You're not upset?" Danaerys asked as Tyrion made to take his leave.
"No, my queen. Merely concerned." Tyrion replied, giving her his best tight-lipped smile. Danaerys watched him leave, then relaxed into her chair. Her hands fluttered to her now-flat abdomen.
Doing some quick calculating, the night spent with Jon Snow had been over two months ago... leaving only seven more until she could be expected to deliver.
She reached out a surprisingly steady hand for paper and quill. How to even begin this letter...?
Jon Snow, Lord of the North in Winterfell...
I am pleased to inform you that our efforts have not been in vain and there will be a delivery before winter truly comes. If you can be spared, please attend me at Dragonstone at earliest convenience. Please accept this gift of supplies on behalf of the Targaryen throne.
Danaerys Targaryen, Queen at Dragonstone
She hated how formal it all sounded. If allowed, she would write something more personal. But likely the missive would be read by other eyes. She just hoped he would understand her meaning right off the wing.
She dispatched the message with Doreah, ignoring her sparkling eyes for the time being. They would speak later.
She fixed her gaze out over the stormy shores of Dragonstone, allowing her mind to drift. She would be lying if she said her whole body wasn't laced with impatience at Jon's far-off return. After she had dispatched him to the North, she had sailed directly to Dragonstone with only a weak goodbye and a final kiss in her cabin. Her heart had secretly ached for him and she suspected he felt the same. They were very similar.
Jon Snow stalked back and forth across the ramparts of Winterfell, vaguely watching the movement in the courtyard below, but not really seeing anything. His thoughts were miles away in two different directions.
There had been no word from The Wall in days. Similarly, there had been no word from Dragonstone in weeks. He wasn't sure which one concerned him more.
"You're brooding." Sansa's voice came from a nearby stairwell.
"I know it." Jon growled back.
"Is it the North?" Sansa asked, moving out from the shadows. She looked ill-rested. "Or is it the South?"
"Both." Jon replied honestly.
"You worry for the dragon queen." Sansa said.
"Perhaps." Jon replied. He didn't know if he worried for Danaerys... But he worried about not being with her.
"Sir! My Lord!" The Maester hustled up the stairs, panting as he went. "Urgent news from Dragonstone and the North."
"Give it to me." Jon said, practically snatching the scrolls from the Maester. Noting Sansa's watchful eyes, he opened the hastily squashed missive from the North first. It was in hasty, poor scrawl.
The wall is breached. There is a dragon. God help us.
Jon sucked in a breath. A dragon. The fucking Night King had resurrected Dany's dragon. He wanted to scream and go weak in the knees at the same time.
He crumpled that note and moved to the more neatly rolled scroll, presumably from Danaerys herself.
Jon Snow, Lord of the North in Winterfell...
I am pleased to inform you that our efforts have not been in vain and there will be a delivery before winter truly comes. If you can be spared, please attend me at Dragonstone at earliest convenience. Please accept this gift of supplies on behalf of the Targaryen throne.
Danaerys Targaryen, Queen at Dragonstone
He must have really gone weak at the knees this time, because Sansa was suddenly at his elbow, steering him towards the stairs and his study.
"Wait until we're alone." Sansa growled, kicking him along. Jon didn't protest.
Once in his study, Sansa tossed him in a chair with alarming strength.
"What is it?" She barked.
"The Wall has fallen." Jon said hoarsely. "And Danaerys Targaryen is going to have my child."
Sansa's mouth opened and closed like a very pretty fish. Then she summed up the entire situation in a choice sentence.
"Motherfucker."