Warning: Stark bashing, kidnapping, slow burn road to forgiveness.

I wrote the first two and a half chapters before 8x06, and I didn't see full leaks of 8x06. In this story Jon is king (because I thought the crown would fall into his lap, and I saw nothing about Bran and Sansa), Sansa and Bran don't rule anything, the small council has a few differences, Davos is Jon's Hand, after traveling west Arya and Gendry got back together, and Yara Greyjoy got to keep the title of Queen of the Iron Islands even though she is still basically part of the Seven Kingdoms. I would say everything else is canon.

Daenerys' hand had clutched her stomach before falling as Jon pulled out his knife from her heart. The pain was worse than anything she had ever felt in her life, and she could feel everything in her body start to shut down. Please, the baby, her mind screamed in agony as her vision faded to black. She heard Drogon's devastated screeches as he began to burn the throne room to the ground, and then everything started to fade away. Her life had already ended when Drogon carefully, but swiftly grabbed her body and flew across the sea.

"It's all right," Daenerys heard as she jolted awake, as naked as her Nameday. Panic filled her chest, and she couldn't breathe when her memories came back. Jon had killed her intentionally, and her advisors had betrayed her. The woman rubbed her shoulder as she sobbed, "You're alive."

Drogon screeched happily as he tried to stuff his head into the window, and Daenerys smiled meekly through her tears at his enthusiasm.

"The Lord of Light may have brought you back, but it was your dragon's love that got you here, Daenerys." The woman said as Daenerys finally took the time to look at her savior. "My name is Kinvara. I am a Red Priestess of Volantis. I have been waiting a long time to meet you."

"The baby. Is it..." Daenerys choked back a sob as she clutched her stomach. Her abdomen was still slightly swollen.

"The baby is alive. I've seen her destiny in the flames," Kinvara said as she handed her a silk lilac gown. "She will be born healthy."

"She?" Daenerys asked as she held up the gown. It reminded her of the thin flowy dresses in Quarth, and she wished that she had one of her dragon gowns.

"The true Princess who is Promised," Kinvara said. "Hers is the song of ice and fire."

"Only fire," Daenerys whispered as a tear trickled down her cheek. She tried not to think of Jon, but looking down at the massive scar above her breast, she couldn't help but let out a sob. Her chest began to burn as she cried, and she began panicking again.

Kinvara grabbed a goblet that she had prepared beforehand and put it to Daenerys' lips, "It's Milk of the Poppy." Daenerys relaxed after a few sips, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Weeks later, Daenerys finally got the courage to leave the room that she had been resurrected in, after Kinvara's insistence. She had thought Drogon had taken her South, to Dorne or the Reach perhaps, but as she left the room, her breath caught in her throat. She hurriedly went to a room across the hall, and cried out of happiness when she saw the lemon tree outside the window.

Daenerys practically ran down the stairwell and through the downstairs halls to see the door that she had been dreaming about ever since they were forced to leave it. She never thought she would see it again. As she turned the knob slowly, her new heart thumped in anticipation.

"Greyworm?" Daenerys cried as she opened the door. He was standing on the first step, while the other Unsullied and what was left of her Dothraki horde stood behind him.

They both started crying, and soon she was in his arms, even though neither of them had ever been physically affectionate with the other before. He stroked her back soothingly as she cried into his shoulder. Kinvara had been wonderful, but she was grateful to see a familiar face.

"You died, and Greyworm had no purpose anymore," Greyworm said. "When Red Woman came to bring us here, I didn't believe her, but Daenerys Targaryen lives." Greyworm smiled when he noticed her holding her growing belly. He placed his hand in the center of her stomach, and she thought it was strange to have someone else feel for the baby. "You are with child."

"I can feel her move inside me, but not on the outside yet," Daenerys said. She tried to blink away tears that threatened to fall as she thought about Jon. He would have had his hands on her belly more than she did, and even if he didn't love her, which he couldn't have, he would have loved the baby.

"Does it get easier?" She asked, wondering how Greyworm was coping.

"No," Greyworm said looking distant for a moment. His heart never stopped aching for Missandei. "But Missandei loved me, never betrayed me."

Daenerys nodded knowing that she would never come to terms with what Jon did to her. She would always love him and would never understand why he had taken her life.

Greyworm took her hand and led her back inside the house with the red door. For the first time in weeks, Daenerys could say that she was happy.

...

When Daenerys went into labor, she thought that she was going to die. She couldn't remember most of Rhaego's birth, but it she did know it was more painful this time. Greyworm held her hand the entire time, and Kinvara whispered words of encouragement as her contractions became closer together.

She screamed in agony when the Dothraki midwife told her to push. Jon Snow hadn't succeeded in killing her the first time, but she was afraid that he would be victorious now. Her own mother had died bringing her into the world.

It seemed like hours had gone by as she pushed, "I can't do it anymore." Greyworm squeezed her hand in encouragement.

"Chir hazze, Khaleesi," Almost there.

Daenerys pushed as hard as she could and breathed a sigh of relief when the baby finally slid out and started to cry.

"Shekhikhi Khalakki," Little princess, the woman said as she handed the baby over to Daenerys.

Daenerys cried as she stroked her baby's soft cheek. She was the most perfect thing that she had ever seen, and the long birth was worth it in the end.

Kinvara took the baby to give her a bath when Daenerys was strong enough to move. The two Dothraki woman cleaned off the blood on her thighs and helped Daenerys into a clean nightgown, while another changed the sheets.

"What is little princess's name?" Greyworm asked as soon as the Dothraki midwives cleaned Daenerys and the baby up.

She often thought about the baby to distract herself from darker thoughts, and she had spent a long time trying to choose a name. She had always wanted her first living child to have a traditional Targaryen sounding name, even if it would never happen.

When Jon gave her hope that the witch was wrong, she began to dream of the multitude of children that she wanted. Even after the Battle of Winterfell, her dreams and thoughts betrayed her. She dreamt of a little girl with silver soft-spun curls, who danced to the sound of her dragons. Rhaeanna or Lyella, Daenerys had thought; a way for them to both honor the mothers they had never met. If she was blessed with a boy, she had wanted to name him Rhaegar, after the king who never was. It was a tribute to the man who brought Jon Snow into her life, and for her beautiful green child who she didn't know was going to be shot and plunged into the sea. She could never name a child after her own father, after all.

She had once thought she was a fool for dreaming of a child she could never have. It was a simpler time then, when her only worries were Jon and the iron throne. Everything had spiraled out of control since then.

"Rhaella," Daenerys crooned stroking Rhaella's feathery silver hair as she nursed her left breast below the nasty scar where Jon had plunged his knife into her heart. She tried to focus on the baby as she looked up at her with big violet eyes. It seemed only fitting to name her daughter after the woman who had given her life, since the baby was the only reason why she would ever want to live in this new one. Daenerys needed Rhaella as much as she needed her, for the pain in her heart was nearly too much to bear.

"Rhaella Missandei of House Targaryen," Daenerys whispered. Missandei would have loved her as if she was her own, and tears pricked in her eyes as she thought about everything Rhaella would never have. Rhaella would never know all the people who supported her mother and died bravely, she would never know her brothers who fell from the sky nor the one born from her mother's womb, she would never know her father nor her other family, and she would never get to have a crown placed on her head.

Rhaella would never get to live in the world that was supposed to be hers, all because her father had decided to kill them.

"Love," Greyworm said. He had tears in his eyes as he touched the baby's cheek. Daenerys looked up at him through her own and saw how much he cared.

Greyworm knew what she was thinking. He would watch over her, even when she didn't think he was around. She had screamed and cried into Drogon's scales many times, voicing her sorrows to the world.

"We will show love, the Unsullied, the Dothraki, your people. Family loves, not kills. We will protect the little princess from the wolves across the sea and teach her many things." Greyworm said. "Little princess comes from Daenerys Targaryen, we will be her fathers, brothers, friends, and teachers." Daenerys took his hand in hers, her lip trembling into a smile. "It never gets easier, but maybe little princess will save us all."

...

It wasn't long before Rhaella grew into a toddler, and Daenerys found out it really did take a village to raise a child. It was never hard to spot her daughter, for her pale skin and hair always gave her away.

She liked to watch Rhaella run and laugh with the Dothraki children. The older ones would hoist her onto their shoulders and pretend to be horses, just like they did with the younger ones. She was always included in whatever games they played, despite being different. They taught her songs and showed her animals and bugs they caught.

She liked watching the women hold Rhaella in their laps as they told tales of legendary horse lords to their children. They braided her hair and sang Dothraki lullabies to lull her into her afternoon naps. They bathed her with their children and put her in their traditional clothing. The men showed her their horses, and Daenerys loved hearing her squeal with joy every time they lifted her up to let her touch the horses' noses. They kept a watchful eye on her and scolded her whenever she was out of line.

The Unsullied guarded her and taught her things about the world. They taught her how to swim and to face her fears. She liked watching Rhaella swim in the shallow tide pools on the beach with Greyworm as he told her tales of Missandei and the Dragon Queen. More often than not, Daenerys would find shells lying around from her adventures.

Daenerys also loved watching her interact with Drogon. Greyworm had cautioned her many times, but Daenerys trusted her daughter with Drogon more than she did with anyone else. Every time Rhaella was around he would make a guttural purring noise, which he hadn't done in in a long time. Rhaella loved her brother, and Drogon adored her even more. She was too little to be able to fully climb on his back, but she tried, and he let her. Perhaps in another life, Viserion would have been hers, but Daenerys tried not to think about that.

Most of all, Daenerys loved when Rhaella ran into her arms and looked at her like she was the most important person in the world. She loved when Rhaella peppered her with kisses and laughed when she tickled her sides. Daenerys loved that Rhaella wanted to spend time with her, and she loved getting snuggled by her baby. Her daughter was loved and cherished, and that's all Daenerys ever wanted for herself as a child. She now had a home and people who supported her, but the darkness still plagued her mind at times.

Rhaella was six when Daenerys fully noticed that she had the pale Northern complexion, when no matter how long she was in the sun, she didn't tan. The only bit of color was on her cheeks, and Daenerys tried not to look at her porcelain chest and belly after bath time. She thanked the Gods that Rhaella had the rest of the Targaryen coloring, since Jon's skin tone was enough to set her off. Daenerys was also unnerved when Rhaella's eyes glinted a certain way when she was mad. She would have much preferred the dragon's rage over the wolf's calm demeanor and murderous gaze. Sansa Stark looked at her that way, and so had Jon before the blow. She would often have to look away or leave the room.

While she knew the day was coming, Daenerys teetered on the edge when Rhaella asked, "Why don't I have a kepa?" A father. Rhaella could speak High Valyrian, Dothraki, and Braavosi better the Common Tongue, and father was not a term that Daenerys had ever used.

"He didn't choose us, my little dragon," Daenerys whispered as she remembered Jon pulling out his sword. All she thought about was the baby, and the pain of her life fading away. It was far crueler to both of them if she lied.

"Why?"

"He listened to the wrong people," Sansa, Arya, Samwell Tarly, Tyrion, Varys... the names chanted in Daenerys' head over and over as she tried to stop the madness from taking over. She couldn't help the tears from spilling down her cheeks. "They told him I was bad." And perhaps she was a monster after what she had done, even though she hardly remembered doing it.

"He knows nothing. You're the best Mummy in the world," Rhaella said with the wolf's glint in her eye. Daenerys laughed as she scooped her up; her boiling blood cooled enough to keep her sane.

"Avy jorrāelan, zaldrīzītsos," I love you, little dragon, Daenerys said, knowing that she would have to tell her the entire story one day.

...

On Rhaella's tenth Nameday, Daenerys decided to tell her the truth about the past. She started out by giving her daughter a chest filled with the last remnants of being the Dragon Queen. Greyworm had brought a few of her dresses, her silver dragon chains and pins, and a Targaryen flag with him when he and her people filed into Kinvara's boat to greet her in Braavos.

"Will you braid my hair with the pins?" Rhaella asked as she held up the black dress. The material was thick and soft, such a contrast to the leather and silk she was accustomed to wearing. It wasn't suited for the heat, but it was beautiful.

Daenerys nodded and motioned for her to sit down. She wished Missandei was there to give her support, but the woman had been gone longer than she had known her. Her hands trembled slightly as she sectioned off Rhaella's hair and began to braid.

"Your father's name is Aegon Targaryen, but everyone knew him as Jon Snow," Daenerys felt her stiffen, and she was glad her back was turned. "He came to me to ask for dragon glass, a black stone that could kill the army of the dead. I didn't believe him, until I saw them all." Greyworm had already told her about the Battle of Winterfell, excluding Jon. She knew how her brothers, Missandei, and Jorah had fallen. "We fell in love on the way to Winterfell, and everything was perfect, until he told me he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. He was my nephew, and I begged him not to tell because the secret would tear us apart."

While Daenerys told her stories of her ancestors, incest was not a topic she dwelled on. If Rhaella was bothered by it, she didn't say anything, and it gave Daenerys the courage to continue, "He told his sister- cousin- Sansa Stark, and she told my advisors. They betrayed me and whispered to Jon that I was going mad. And... well... he plunged a knife into my heart. Kinvara brought me back." Daenerys said as she finished the braids. Rhaella whipped her head around and looked at her in shock.

"And he just killed you like you never meant anything to him? Did he know about me?" Rhaella asked as Daenerys hung her head in shame. She wrapped her arms around her mother as tears pricked in her eyes as well.

"When I found out he had already pulled away from me. There was never a good time," Daenerys said. "I was going to tell him before..." She didn't continue the sentence and Rhaella knew: before he killed me.

"Who holds the iron throne now?"

"No one. Drogon destroyed most of the Red Keep, and he melted the iron throne so I've been told. Jon is the King of the Seven Kingdoms, but he rules from the North," Dany said. She saw the wolf's glint in her daughter's eyes, "Rhaella..."

"I say we take Drogon and torch the North," Rhaella said with a look of determination that reminded Daenerys of herself. "You told me that the Targaryen words were Fire and Blood."

"Rhaella," Daenerys scolded halfheartedly. "They're your family."

"No, you're my family. Why is it fair that he took everything away from you, and he gets to keep it? What did he ever give you in return? A knife to the heart, that's what," Rhaella said almost to the point of shouting. Perhaps she had more dragon blood in her than Daenerys realized.

"He gave me you," Daenerys whispered. She would have gladly traded the iron throne for a child, but not at the price she paid. "Sometimes, I feel myself slipping into madness, but then I look at you, and I know that I have to keep fighting. I've fought every day for my entire life, and I'm tired. We could burn the North, but I'm not willing to risk losing you or Drogon."

"You still love him," Rhaella said sadly.

"It feels like I've been stabbed every day. It would be easier to hate him, " Daenerys said looking distant. "But it's your Nameday, and it should be happy. Look in the bottom." Daenerys said eyeing the chest.

Rhaella pulled all of the dresses and trinkets out of the box and gasped. Nestled in red velvet were three dragon eggs. She picked up the white and silver one in the middle and cradled it in her arms. "How did you get these?" She could feel the dragon's heart beating in unison with her own.

"Drogon. Dragons don't have a gender, but he was the mother and Rhaegal was the father."

"How will I know when to hatch them?" Rhaella asked.

"You'll know when the time is right," Daenerys smiled knowingly, just as she had known to give them to her now. Rhaella jumped into her arms and expressed her gratitude.

...

The Dothraki and the Unsullied cheered as Rhaella stepped out of the flames with three baby dragons perched on her shoulders. Daenerys handed her a robe and smiled proudly.

"This one," Rhaella said pointing to the dragon that was the color of sand, "will be named Missandys after the woman who loyally stood by my Mother and was her dearest friend. May she spend her days in Seventh Heaven on the beach. And this one," she said pointing to the slate gray and blue one, "shall be named Jorion, after the man who saved mine and my Mother's life in the Battle of Winterfell and many times before then. May he rest assured that he served his Queen and Princess well," Rhaella smiled before looking at the white and silver dragon. "And this one will be named Daenera after the strongest and bravest woman I know, my Mother. She sacrificed everything to be where she is today. She will always be the Queen in my heart."

The dragons let out tiny roars, and a wave of cheers broke out again. One of the Dothraki men hoisted her onto his shoulders and paraded her around for all to see.

...

"What is that in the sky?" Sansa asked as she came up to Bran and Jon in the Godswood. Bran was the first to look at her before he turned his head up to the sky. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as he visited the past.

"It's a comet, Sansa," Jon said without looking up. His eye remained fixated on something in the distance. He was worse than Bran sometimes, and she had half the mind to live with Arya at Storm's End when she wasn't visiting Winterfell.

"A bleeding star," Bran said when he came back. Sansa sighed, and Jon smirked a little. "She is so beautiful. She looks like her, you know."

"Who are you talking about?" Sansa asked.

"It's an omen," Bran said, ignoring Sansa's question. Instead he looked at Jon, "An omen of dragons."

"The dragons are gone, Bran," Jon said. He stood up abruptly, not wanting to hear any more nonsense. He came to the Godswood for peace and to beg for forgiveness, not for Sansa to egg on Bran.

"Not all of them," Bran said.

"Is Drogon planning on coming back to burn us all?" Sansa said jokingly. Jon glared at her and her smile fell.

"Not today," Bran said looking up at the sky again. "But he would do it if he was commanded to."

"He doesn't have anyone to command him anymore," Sansa said with a relieved smile. Drogon hadn't been seen or heard from since he left with Daenerys' body a decade ago, but the thought that he would come back to seek revenge was always in the back of her mind.

"You really don't know," Bran said looking at Jon again. "Daenerys never told you."

"Told me what?" Jon said becoming enraged. He didn't want to hear a word about her after what he did. She deserved to rest in peace without her name being uttered by dirty Northern lips, even if it was just Bran.

"Jon," Sansa put her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it away.

"What didn't she tell me about?" He demanded.

"The baby," Bran said as his eyes rolled in the back of his head. For a moment, Jon and Sansa were too stunned to do anything but stare at each other.

"I never should have fucking told you," Jon shouted in anguish, as he broke the thick silence. Sansa flinched and looked at the ground. "You swore under the Heart Tree that you would keep my secret."

"I didn't know things would go that far," Sansa said as her face paled. She had never seen Jon so angry.

"You wanted her gone!"

"You killed her, not me," Sansa said cruelly as she tried to defend herself. She didn't specifically want Daenerys dead; she only wanted her out of their lives. Jon's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"She told me what would happen, and I was too stupid to listen. I chose the wrong family," Jon said as tears pooled in his eyes. "I killed the woman I loved. I killed my own child. They both survived two wars, and I'm the one who did it."

Sansa was going to reassure him that he had chosen right, but for once she decided to keep her mouth shut.

"She would be ten," Jon's voice cracked. He shook with trembling sobs that he tried to hold in. "Bran said she was beautiful. How could she not be if she looked like Dany?"

"She could've been like Joffrey. She could have gone Mad like Daenerys," Sansa said. Joffrey was beautiful, but the incest had made him Mad. The Targaryens suffered from generations of inbreeding. "She wouldn't be one of us."

Jon took a step back as if he had been slapped. He never expected her to be friends with Dany, but to openly say something like that about their baby broke his heart, as if it could be ripped into more pieces than it currently was. "And they say Cersei Lannister died that day. I only see her now." Sansa's jaw dropped open as Jon angrily brushed past her and headed towards the castle. Dany and the baby would have been alive if he had noticed sooner.

The inhabitants of Winterfell would be plagued by their King's screams for many nights to come.