The pain of the blade drew a gasp from her lips. Daenerys held her last breath, her body tensing up as though it could save itself by becoming suddenly inert. A spike of adrenaline rushed through her veins, but the energy dissipated immediately into oblivion.
She stared with disbelief into her lover's eyes. His wavy black hair framed his face as he leaned over his dying queen, cradling her in his arms as though he still loved her. She wanted to scream, to hurl insults at him, to denounce him for his heinous betrayal. "I don't want it. I never have," Jon had said. Yet here he stood, his blade in her belly, the iron throne his by right of both lineage and conquest. She knew Grey Worm would not have it. The Dothraki and Unsullied would have their vengeance upon Jon Snow and he would never rule the seven kingdoms that should have been hers to rule until her timely demise.
As the world grew hazy and her mind drifted into the abyss, she heard the familiar, dominant roar of Drogon. Her only surviving dragon child. She clung to the sound, straining her teary eyes for one final glimpse of him. The mother of dragons shifted her attention from the searing pain in her abdomen to the feeling of wind on her face. Drogon. His name filled her mind, followed by a word that filled every fiber of her being as she strove in vain to speak it: Dracarys! She felt her lips move, but her voice was gone, gone into the void. His enormous figure drifted down into the blur of her vision, his great wings flapping, his scaly face drawing near and into focus for one brief moment with a mournful, keening cry until Daenerys saw and heard no more.
With a sudden jolt as though waking from a bad dream, she opened her eyes to see Jon Snow standing over her body, looking behind him in fear at an enraged Drogon. The dead queen looked down at her hands, spectral and see-through, and realized she was floating, rising up into the air. With all her might she willed herself to stay put and reached out in vain hope to cling to Drogon and stay in this world. An unpleasant sensation filled her as an unknown force tugged on her ghostly body, pulling it up to the heavens, but she resisted with all her will.
Drogon let out a deafening roar. Jon staggered back, releasing Daenerys's body onto the cold stone floor of the ruined throne room. They looked at each other for a long moment, Jon's face full of anguish, until Drogon's great mouth opened wide and the back of his throat came alight with the glow of fire. He spewed forth a powerful blast of flame that engulfed Jon and blew past him with the formidable fury of a grieving dragon.
The flames continued to burn after Drogon's fiery breath was spent. Daenerys fought against the tugging feeling pulling her upwards as she continued to watch. The flames died down to reveal a nude and kneeling Jon Snow. Drogon growled with disbelief as the figure rose to his feet, his expression surprised and afraid.
The tugging was becoming too strong to resist any longer; something told Daenerys if she continued to struggle, her soul would be torn apart. She allowed herself to rise slowly to lessen the resistance, just enough to see what happened next.
Drogon lunged forth and snapped his jaws shut around Jon's naked body, biting down hard with a wet crunch. He shook his great head back and forth as blood dribbled down his chin, and flung the mangled body off the great height of the throne room. She did not even feel a glimmer sadness for his death. He had earned it.
It pained Daenerys to part with Drogon, but with his vengeance reaped, there was nothing left for her in the world of the living. Perhaps she would see him again one day when death arrived to end his mortal life.
As she allowed the tugging to carry her away, she watched Drogon approach her dead body and nudge it with acute tenderness, hoping she would awaken. He uttered a low cry of sorrow that shattered her astral heart. High above him now, she could barely see as he picked up her body in the talons of one foot and took flight, heading east, back towards the land where he had been hatched in the flames of Drogo's pyre. Essos.
The tugging drew her faster and faster away until the world of the living was a faded blur and she was surrounded in darkness. Were her eyes closed or open? She did not know any longer. She could see, hear, feel nothing.
The first thing she felt was a gentle breeze on her face. The sound of the ocean came to her, its waves crashing in the distance. She opened her eyes to sunshine in a clear blue sky. She was sitting in grass, soft with clover. Carefully, she stood and walked to the edge of the grass; the ocean was a thousand feet below. She was standing on a great rocky pillar of earth with no way down, but something told her that didn't matter. As she glanced to the far side of the small field, she realized it sloped upwards, and two shafts of wood rose from the edge. She stepped toward it, relishing the feeling of the thick grass on her bare feet, the warmth of the sun on her face, the gentle caress of the breeze on her skin, taking her time as she basked in the beautiful day. If this was death, she welcomed it.
Step by step, she drew closer to the high end of the towering pillar of earth, and her eyes fell on a narrow wooden bridge spanning the distance between another pillar of earth that rose even higher in the distance. A feeling of great warmth and happiness filled her, without knowing why. She let it wash over her and dispel the momentary fear she felt at the idea of crossing such a bridge. Daenerys took her first barefoot step onto the wooden path, grasping both handrails in something more akin to excitement than worry as she strode forth. The bridge gave gently under her weight, but it was strong and well-built. Instinct told her nothing in this dimension could hurt her.
It took some time to cross the bridge, and though she wanted to turn and gaze out upon the ocean and its infinite, glittering beauty, she was drawn inevitably to the piece of earth at the end of the path. This was nothing like the pull she had felt when her spirit had left her body. This was pure emotion, though she knew not from where it sprang. All Daenerys knew was she had to reach that land.
The feeling of joy rose as she crossed the halfway point. The closer she got, the more elation she felt. As she reached the end and her bare foot reached for the grass, she heard a distant sound that filled her to bursting with happiness. It was the familiar cry of Viserion!
The moment her foot touched the ground, he appeared high in the sky, plummeting in a dive toward the cliff. He spread his wings and landed heavily, taking two giant steps forward to nuzzle his mother as she ran to meet him, running her hands over the slick smoothness of his scales, kissing his snout, hugging his neck, happy tears streaming down her face. She hugged him as he wrapped his wings around her protectively. Daenerys felt his throat vibrate as he crooned a warm greeting. His sudden and tragic death at the hands of the Night King was a distant memory whose sting was no longer sharp. They would never be separated again.
She had no idea how long she stood there with him, celebrating their reunion. Hours, days, weeks, years? Time no longer had any meaning and the sun did not move. The whole of her existence could now be one moment stretched into eternity, yet she slowly realized there was more to be had in the afterlife.
Her gaze was inevitably drawn to the far side of the cliff from whence she'd come.
There was another bridge.
Another pillar of earth.
This time the happiness that filled her grew in Viserion, too. She could feel his great heart swelling with it as his head swung to follow her eyes.
She kissed Viserion's temple and took off at a jog toward the bridge. As she took the first step onto the wood, Viserion took flight and flew in excited circles above her, calling out in anticipation and urging her onwards. The ocean was far, far below her feet as they padded along the smooth wood, the narrow bridge creaking as she crossed. Once again, the sensation of euphoria grew as she neared the other side, anticipating the familiar face of another dear soul who had lost his life all too soon.
Daenerys leapt to the ground as Rhaegal soared down from the sky, his husky cry announcing his arrival. He and Viserion circled each other, gnashing their teeth as they lunged at each other in the air playfully, rising and falling hundreds of feet as they flapped and swooped. It was a magnificent display of brotherly love between two incredible creatures that seemed to go on forever. At last, Rhaegal turned to Daenerys and landed to greet her. Viserion's joy could not be contained and he continued to circle the pillar of earth uttering abbreviated cries of exhilaration.
Daenerys leaned into Rhaegal, hugging his neck and caressing his scales as he thrummed with gladness.
It could have been an hour or a hundred years before the feeling of anticipation grew once again, her attention drawn like gravity to the far side of the plateau - to the bridge that stretched out into the distance, the other side hidden in the clouds as it rose into the air.
She did not hesitate for a second to rise and start toward the final bridge the moment she realized it was there. How she knew it was the last one, she was unaware, but it did not matter. Reunited with Viserion and Rhaegal, they would never again be apart. There was one other soul she would have wanted to be with for eternity in the afterlife, and to her surprise, it was not Drogo, who was once her sun and her stars.
He had changed from a violent, dominating husband into a gentle lover who had slowly earned her affection, but her time with him had been long, long ago. No, there was another whose heart had always been hers had she been wise enough to take it.
Her bare feet flew over the planks of wood as she rushed to cross the bridge into the sky. Wind from the wings of Viserion and Rhaegal brushed by her as they flew up above. Their voices rang out in delight as their mother ran below.
When the soles of her feet touched grass, she kept going. The ground was steep until it crested and fell slightly to a flat area on the far side. The back of a familiar head of rusty blonde hair appeared as she reached the crest. Below it, a yellow shirt with lean shoulders visible through the worn fabric, a pair of brown trousers below that. He stood at the edge of the cliff, gazing absently into the distance, until he felt her presence behind him.
He turned to face Daenerys, his beautiful blue eyes full of tears that spilled down his sweet, handsome face as his gaze fell upon his queen.
Ser Jorah. She repeated his name over and over in her head as she ran to him, closing the short distance between them that still managed to feel as though it took a lifetime to cross.
She leapt into his embrace, hugging his neck as he crushed her in his astral arms. She was distantly aware of Viserion and Rhaegal flying above as they held each other.
Eventually her desire to see his face outgrew her desperate need to cling to him, and she pulled back to look him in the eye, searching.
His face was full of sorrow mixed with happiness.
She understood immediately. Almost as though his feelings were tied now with her own.
He had seen his queen take a frightening turn after his death as fear, loss, isolation, and desperation overtook her. She saw everything from his point of view now, and was astonished at her own acts of violence and disregard for mercy. Fleeing men and women flashed before her eyes, burning as they ran from Drogon's inescapable fury. That was not the Daenerys she had always been. That woman was a frightening stranger, a callous demon hellbent on achieving her goal, no matter the cost. She saw through Jorah's eyes how she had fractured and broken; death had restored her heart and her mind.
She wondered how he had hung on for so long to witness her downfall after he died. The things he had seen were days, weeks after Ser Jorah had fallen protecting her from the dead during the Battle of Winterfell. How had the pull not torn his soul to shreds? She was filled with wonder as she gazed at him until she understood exactly how strong his love for her had been, to ground him for so long to the world of the living even when his soul belonged with the dead.
The warmth of forgiveness flooded her as Ser Jorah Mormont reached out to caress her cheek. He still loved her.
"I have always loved you," he said. His voice was as rich as the finest wine, and as sweet as Dornish honey. "And I always will."
Inspired by "The Bears Anguish" by M10_l10 on AO3.
If you're interested in an alternate ending to seasons 7 and 8 pairing Daenerys with Jorah, take a look at my WIP "The Queen's Embrace."
In response to reviews: Jon Snow was a great character, and one of several whose story was forever marred by poor, rushed writing in seasons 7 and 8. His romance with Dany was sorely underdeveloped, and then after he saw what she had done, he made every excuse in the world for her actions despite his long-standing devotion to truth and justice. Likewise, Dany's downfall to the mad queen at the end happened all too quickly despite earlier foreshadowing of her dark side. I'm not surprised, really, that Jon killed her - it was tragically beautiful - but the events leading up to it left much to be desired. I truly expected Drogon to burn Jon alive, and it was really odd that he burned the throne instead. He gets the concept of its symbol? Really? If he is that smart, he was totally okay with burning thousands of innocents in King's Landing, but he just arbitrarily decided to spare the person who killed the only human he loves?
I agree it would be extremely difficult to make an ending everyone would be happy with. I could live with what happened if it had been developed the way the rest of the series had been. The one thing I cannot forgive is Bran on the throne. Really? Bran? Seriously. It's like they put him there on purpose just to give the fans the middle finger.
Sorry for the rant! I loved GOT so much and it was really heartbreaking to watch it crumble at the end. I hope if you do not share the vision I created in this piece, you can at least appreciate its craft. 3