Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones or anything associated with it. All I own is the fact I'm officially Jonerys trash XD As always please read, review and enjoy!

Burn

Dawn was just breaking atop the Wall as she stared out upon the frozen north from her perch on Eastwatch. The silence broken only by the cold winds and the pained screeches of Drogon and Rheagal as they mourned their brother.

In her mind, she could still see her gentle Viserion, burning and crashing into the ice as his blood rained down. Only for him to sink into that frozen lake without a sound. Part of her still refused, no, could simply not comprehend the loss she had just suffered. Her gentlest, sweetest child, ripped away from her without warning and so easily.

Even up here in complete solitude save for her children above her, the tears would not come, all she could do was wait for her Viserion. And Jon Snow as well.

A man who upon reflection, may truly have surpassed all the other men she had known in terms of doing the stupidest and most heroic thing she had ever seen.

That stubborn, brooding willful and brave man who she had begun to find so intriguing had surely gotten himself killed for his heroism just as she had predicted to her Hand.

And she couldn't help but hope against hope for his return as well.

She heard footsteps behind her.

"Its time to go your grace," Ser Jorah said somberly.

The ship to carry the survivors and the wight had arrived then. She should make her way to Kings Landing as soon as possible, Cersei, no, the entire realm needed to see the true threat for what it was. Just as she had. It was the best way to honor Jon Snow's and Viserion's sacrifice.

But even so...

"A bit longer," she replied.

She wasn't sure how much longer she stayed, a few more seconds, a few more minutes a few more hours. Waiting for just a glimpse of the survivors. In her mind she tried to conjure any scenario where Viserion and Jon had survived and would come over that horizon. Perhaps Viserion had survived under the lake and Jon, who had actually managed to connect with Drogon, her wildest and most untamed child would come flying over the horizon astride her gentle child, wounded but alive.

But no, that was but a fantasy and queens could not afford to become lost in fantasy.

She steeled herself and turned to leave.

As she did a horn bellowed out a single blast.

"Rider approaching!"

She turned back to the frozen lands and saw an impossible sight. A single horse with a slumped and frozen rider astride it. Her heart leapt into her throat as she realized that somehow that brave fool at least, had managed to come back.

Ser Davos and several others rushed out to grab Jon off the horse and she quickly made her way down the stairs of Eastwatch, Ser Jorah close behind.

When she was at the base of the fort she heard Davos and the red headed Wildling.

"Seven hells his clothes are fucking frozen to him. What's the warmest room here?"

"The whole place is cold and damp. We have warm soup in the kitchens though."

"Soup?!"

"He needs to be warmed from the inside too."

She turned the corner to find them literally carrying Jon, who almost looked more like a frozen corpse than a living man.

"My cabin in the ship has the warmest furs. Take him there."

The redheaded wildling looked at her and nodded.

"Aye, but first soup. The Freefolk know best how to stave off the cold."

She followed them as they poured small amounts of warm soup down Jon's mouth, despite him sputtering and coughing it up. When the wildling was satisfied and Jon even started to look a bit more alive they began to hurry him to her ship. Having ordered the crew to grab several spare furs she made her way to see Davos and a young man attempting to get his frozen garments off of him. Each movement accompanied by the sound of ice cracking as she watched silently.

When they finally got his shirt off she almost gasped aloud at what she saw.

Aside from being unnaturally pale, the scars that covered his body were unlike anything she had ever seen on a living man.

She recalled, as if from another lifetime the wound that had killed Khal Drogo, not too far from his own heart.

Jon Snow had three such wounds covering his body, each of them looking strangely fresh and impossibly deep. Especially the one right above his heart.

She shook her head at the nearly impossible conclusion. He had taken a knife to the heart. He truly had for his people, how in the world could he have survived such wounds?

Davos quickly covered Jon in blankets but the sight of the scars wouldn't leave her mind.

"All we can do now is wait your grace."

She quickly composed herself again.

"Are your certain?"

The old smuggler nodded. "Can't heat him up too fast, or else his body will give out. I've seen it before on cold waters. We have to warm him slowly, over time."

"Very well then." She turned to an Unsullied crewmember.

"Ensure that he's looked after, change his bedding as needed if they're not warm enough.

The Unsullied nodded and resumed his post.

"Don't worry your grace, Jon Snow's as tough as they come, he'll be alright."

As he made his way to leave, likely to help the crew sail, she called out to him still watching Jon Snow's sleeping face.

"Ser Davos?"

He quickly turned around.

"When you first came to Dragonstone, you were going to tell me that he gave his own life, weren't you?"

Davos hesitated for a moment, not sure if this was his story to tell but in the end...

"Yes I was, your grace."

There it was, without a shadow of any more doubt.

"How?"

"I'm not sure its for me to..."

"How?" she said with some fire in her voice.

Davos sighed.

"When Jon let the wildlings through the Wall, some of his men thought he had betrayed what the Night's Watch stood for. So they lured him into a trap and murdered him."

She continued looking at Jon, her expression becoming more awestruck as he continued.

"As to how he managed to come back, I managed to convince a Red Woman to try a ritual and well, needless to say, it worked."

At this, her eyes widened and she turned to face him.

"Mellisandre."

Very rarely had she seen a face contort in both fury and fear like it did on Ser Davos.

"You know her?"

"She's the one who told me to summon Jon Snow."

"Did she tell you anything else? Is she still with you?"

"No, just to summon Jon and listen to him. She left the day you two arrived."

For a moment, absolute murder came to his eyes but he took a deep breath and turned away again.

"Beggin your pardon your grace, but I better go make sure we don't get lost out at sea."

She let him leave without any more questions, satisfied with what she'd learned. Satisfied and awed by the truth.

As the days passed and his skin began to resume a normal tone, she found herself sitting with him more and more often, usually telling the attendant to leave them. And it was in some of these moments that she finally managed to let some of her tears fall in grief.

But mostly she wanted to just make sure he was alright. Having gotten to know him, having learned of his battles and trials, the man sleeping in front of her was beyond any shade of any doubt a good man, with a good heart. Those were all too rare in the world and she was determined to not let this one die a second time.

It was nearly a week before he finally opened his eyes with no trace of cold induced delirium.

Be blinked dazedly before his gaze found its way and focused on her. Relief flooded her to finally see him awake.

But what he said...

"I'm sorry," he breathed out, his eyes shining with regret. "I'm so sorry."

Needless to say, coming from a man who had nearly died a horribly cold death, she was touched as she shook her head and tried to resist the tears returning to her eyes as he grabbed her hand.

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

Part of her agreed, a selfish part perhaps told her that if they hadn't her child would still be alive.

But the rest of her...

"I don't," she said and she meant it. "If we hadn't gone I wouldn't have seen. You have to see it to know. And now I know."

As she spoke she began to find her resolve.

"The dragons are my children. They're the only children I'll ever have, do you understand?"

That foul witch had seen to that a long time ago. But she told him this so that he would understand, truly understand what they meant to her. They were not weapons or the foundation of her power, she truly loved them.

He nodded as he looked down, likely still feeling guilty.

But now she had found her resolve, and vengeance began to burn within her.

"We are going to destroy the Night King and his army. And we'll do it together, you have my word."

This threat went beyond her birthright or her desire to rule, no more would she ask him to bend the knee, she would bear all her resources against the dead, she would be the protector of the realm in her actions if not in official title.

"Thank you, Dany."

She raised her eyebrows at that.

"Dany?" she chuckled. "Who was the last person to call me that?" Not even her closest friend Messandei called her that.

"I'm not sure was it my brother? Hmmm" she smiled jokingly. "Not the company you want to keep."

"Alright, not Dany." He took a deep breath.

"How about my queen?"

To say she was surprised would be an understatement. After weeks of refusing, despite her claim and despite her power, now that she had already pledged her aid to bend the knee now?

"I'd um, bend the knee but..." he said half joking as he looked down at his bedridden body.

But this was no joking matter.

"What about those who swore allegiance to you?"

"They'll all come to see you for what you are," he replied in a soft voice without a trace of doubt.

She was moved by that. Moved and thankful for his faith in her as this time she grabbed his hand and held it.

"I hope I deserve it."

"You do," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She realized they had been holding hands for a bit long and began to pull away but he wouldn't let go.

Her heart began to race as they stared at each other and she realized that what her Hand had told her was all too true.

Eventually they let go, Jon was about to say something but she cut him off.

"You should get some rest," she said softly, almost fearfully.

Jon nodded and sunk in further to the bed as he closed his eyes. Once he had done so, Daenerys quickly left, her breathing slightly ragged.

It was all too much, her grief for Viserion, her relief Jon had come back, the fear of the army of the dead, her sorrow of having failed as a ruler and now these feelings for a stubborn Northerner who made her feel like the young girl she hadn't allowed herself to be for a very long time.

She made her way to her temporary room and quickly shut the door behind her, breathing deeply to slow her thundering heartbeat. "Jon Snow's not in love with me" she had told Tyrion. He had been completely unconvinced and now, she was certain she'd be just as unconvinced if she tried to tell herself that she wasn't in love with Jon Snow.