Disclaimer: I do not own GoT or any of ASoIF, that all belongs to George R Martin. I just am in love with his characters and their portrayal on the show by Emilia and Kit.

WARNING: THIS IS SUPER DUPER MAJOR SPOILERS if you have not seen Game of Thrones Season 7x06 Eastwatch. This is literally starting from the ending scene so please DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED.

This story is a bit of a different style for me, as I'm writing 3rd person but from two different perspectives, so please, leave me feedback and let me know what you think.

This is for all the Jonerys shippers out there.


The Deep End

Jon woke slowly, groggy and bleary eyed from sleep. Sun shone in through the squared windows of the Targaryen ship, casting a soft glow upon the room. A blurry silver haired figure sat to his right, perched snuggly against his fur covered legs. As the woman came into focus, the past two days events flooded his brain and overwhelmed him with sorrow.

More brave, strong men lost to the walkers all to get one wight. One writhing, half dead body to convince Cersei to put aside her petty power struggle and face the task at hand. They had succeeded, but at what cost? Thoros was dead, which meant Beric was on his last life. Tormund had almost been eaten alive, in fact, the entirety of their band of men would have, if Daenerys and her dragons hadn't shown up. Gods, Viserion. How the others has screamed when he was hit. How the blood had poured from his body as he fell from the sky to his watery grave.

Jon studied the woman before him. Her silver hair streamed down past her shoulders, the majority of it tucked away into intricate braids at the back of her head. Free now from her white and grey snow garments, she was clad in a dress more accustomed to her usual style. Deep navy silk embroidered with black swirls made up the bodice, her sleeves and underskirts a soft, deep brown leather. Her usual calm and collected composure had vanished, replaced with something else that Jon couldn't quite identify. Her eyes were red rimmed and cheeks puffy. It was clear she has been crying for some time. Had she been by his bed this whole time? Surely not.

She released a small sigh of gratefulness upon seeing him wake. He's alright. She thought. He has been asleep for more than a day now. While she understood that the process of freeing the ice from is veins was not a quick one, he has barely stirred since they had brought him into her chambers. While for modesty's sake she had taken another room, she had barely even used it, worried that he might wake and not find her there. It was silly, she knew, but after what happened, after how they had left, she needed him to know.

"I'm sorry." He said. "I'm so, so sorry." It was the best he could do, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. Nothing could bring Viserion back. How could he ever erase such pain from her?

Daenerys shook her head slightly as a fresh wave of tears over took her. She fought them bravely, managing to keep them at bay this time. Biting her lip she sniffed, looking away from the man she loved, knowing it would only make it harder. To her surprise, his hand entwined with hers, his flesh cool and smooth against her warm palm.

"I wish I could take it back. I wish we'd never gone."

She shook her head once more. "I don't."

Such apologies were not his to make. It wasn't his fault and she knew it. As much as the pain of the whole ordeal demanded to be heard, blame was not going to make it go away. He had done what was necessary, they both had. The threat was real and there was no escaping it.

Giving his hand one more squeeze, she composed herself and continued. "If we hadn't have gone, I wouldn't have seen. You have to see to know. Now, I know." Jon looked at her patiently, giving her time to explain. "The dragons are my children.." she began, emotion choking her once more. "..they're the only children I'll ever have. Do you understand?"

Jon's dark eyes roamed down, unable to hold contact with hers any longer. He wasn't giving much away, but the small nod of his head was enough for Dany. Whatever this was between them couldn't continue if he did not understand. She could never give him the children he deserved. He would never hold their baby girl in his arms, or bounce a cherub cheeked boy on his knee. It was a joy robbed from her along with her last love, a burden she was forced to bear the rest of her life. She could not offer such false promises of happiness to him, but she could offer her armies, her allegiances and her power.

"We are going to destroy the Night King and his army." she said fiercely. "We will do it together."Satisfied, she added softly, "You have my word."

Jon swallowed thickly, in awe of the woman before him. How could a bastard like him express what this meant to him, to his people? "Thank you, Dany." he tried, softening his pleasantries with an attempt at a nickname. He wasn't sure how she would take sure informality, but your Grace just didn't seem to fit what he felt was such an intimate moment. Thankfully, she chuckled at the name, her silken curls swaying gently, catching the rays of sun glinting in.

"Dany...who was the last person who called me that? I'm not sure. Was it my brother?" she wondered aloud. "Mmm, not the kind of company you want to keep."

"Alright, not Dany." He paused at the small smile that seemed to tug at the corner of her mouth. He thought of what she had said in the dragonglass cave on the beach, about his pride. He thought about what Tormund had said about Mance on their journey beyond the wall. They had been right. His pride and mistrust for other rulers had gotten in the way. This woman was a true Queen, and deserved every ounce of love and devotion her people gave her. He had seen glimpses of it during his time on Dragonstone, but it was the moment she had shown up beyond the wall, risking her life and her dragons, for them, that he knew. She was the one. "How about, my Queen?"

Daenerys looked at him in disbelief. Was he...?

"I'd ahh, bend the knee, but.." he gestured with chin at his current state. While was much warmer, the frost and ice of the North still plagued his bones, making it hard to move much.

"What about those who pledged allegiance to you? "

"They will come to see you for what you are."

Overcome once more, Dany took his hand in her own, her expressive brows giving way to what she was feeling. She had insisted for so long that he bend the knee and he had refused. He has risked everything, trusted her, basically a stranger, for the good of his people. She has given him everything he wanted and needed, he has absolutely no need to bend the knee now, and yet, he had. Gods, this man. She thought. How can he be? So stubborn and proud, yet so beautiful, gentle and kind.

Her grip tightened in his, wanting desperately to be closer, but not quite ready to take such a leap. She felt raw, open and vulnerable, like the scars on his chest. It has been a long time since she had felt anything remotely close this. For so long she has had to be strong; a fierce leader, unbroken, the mother of dragons. Such rigidity wore on her now, self doubt beginning to creep in. Was she truly worthy of such love? Such respect and admiration, especially from a man like Jon Snow? Mustering up her strength she shared with him her fears. "I hope I deserve it."

He gazed at her lovingly, assuring her. "You do."

She studied him once more, letting his words sink in. He was pale, his natural colour having not quite returned yet. His creamy skin was off set up the raven black of his hair, tight curls resting haphazardly against his bearded face. When she'd first laid eyes on him she would have never thought that he would mean quite so much to her. That he would bring forth a part of her she once thought was long dead.

Now's not the time she told herself, attempting to extricate her hand from his. Her fingers brushed against his, but he tightened before she could let go, drawing her back in, back to him. She studied their joined hands with heavily lidded eyes, let her mind run away with fancy ideas of love and happiness together. Daringly, she lifted her gaze to look into his. She had expected to see comfort, sympathy perhaps, but not this. She has never thought such eyes; so dark brown they were like pools of molten chocolate, could hold so much meaning, so much love.

Jon poured everything he was feeling into that look. He was tired of this game, the niceties they had been playing. He hadn't known her long, but he knew what he felt was real, was true. He knew she felt it too. Try as she might to hide it, her eyes, so expressive, so vibrant and bright, gave her away. The way she had looked at him in the light of the torch in the cave. Her reaction when he said he was going to lead the party beyond the wall at Eastwatch. The look she had given him on the back of Drogon as the walkers attacked from all sides. She loved him, he knew.

During the course of her life, many men had fallen in love with her. She had grown used to a certain amount of affection from them. Jorah, Daario, even her Khal, had all looked upon her like she was a trophy to be won, a prize winning mare to show off at the stables. Jon Snow was different. His looked at her like she was a goddess, something he was undeserving of. Strong, powerful, cunning and beautiful. My Queen he had said. Not just THE Queen, but his.

Daenerys felt her heart swell at such thoughts, but her mind betrayed her. There was still too much at stake to be playing with matters of the heart. They had to be focused if they were to defeat the Night King. Besides, such love, such compassion, such depth of feeling could make her weak. She was in bits when she thought she had lost him, and that was before they had even had this conversation. What would come of her if they proceeded? If she took him into her bed, into her heart, only to lose him for good?

Such thoughts terrified her, causing her to release his grip once more, breathing unsteadily as she attempted to calm her racing heart. "You should get some rest." she managed, not meaning a word of it.

She watched as his gaze fell. He grunted softly as he readjusted himself on the bed, preparing for sleep. She could have sworn she saw him silently curse his boldness, for pushing too far too fast, but it was gone before she could be sure. He closed his eyes, feigning at least an attempt at doing as he was told. She struggled for air, not wanting to leave him but knowing she should. She managed to get on her feet, her breath whooshing in and out quickly as she tried to keep herself up right. Unsteadily, she stepped away from him, her arm clutching her belly and she breathed deeply once more. Why was this so hard? Why did it feel like she was rejecting him?

Because you are whispered another voice in her head as she exited the tiny cabin, shutting the door softly. She bowed her head against the rough wood, praying she hadn't thrown away her only chance to be with him.