There weren't many things that scared Jon. No, he'd been through worse than any man could dare to even dream about. He'd been murdered by his brothers, abandoned by his friends, tricked, lied to and his heart had been crushed in more ways than one. It was hard to be afraid of anything after you've lived a life like Jon's or seen what really lie beyond The Wall... What Jon didn't realize was that when you lived your life knowing you could die at any moment, there wasn't much room for happiness or joy. You were left empty and usually alone.
But things changed for Jon, and he felt himself truly feeling what it was like to be alive again. He wasn't sure what to expect when he was summoned to Dragonstone, but it wasn't that. It wasn't her. He'd heard the stories about House Targaryen... The Mad King and the tales of dragons. But this woman wasn't like her father, and the dragons were not tales any longer. Slowly, and then like a wave he felt himself pulled towards her more and more as each day pass. Drawn not just to her beauty or grace and elegance, but to her strength, persistence and vigilance.
Daenerys Targaryen was impeccable and only a fool would not see it. Nearly everything about this woman was inspiring and it quickly became clear to him why people chose to follow her. The more time he spent with her himself, the more he wanted to know her. As each day passed he warmed up to the idea of bending the knee and even serving her himself.
Jon had been her guest at Dragonstone for over a full moon cycle, and even though Queen Daenerys granted permission to mine the Dragonglass, she was quite persistent in her cause as rightful Queen of Westeros. But Jon knew what was coming, he'd seen it so many moons ago and now they were almost there.
He may have been able to see her wondrous potential like all others, but he still couldn't bend the knee. How could he focus on petty things like who the rightful heir was when he knew what was coming. Jon may have acted stupidly before, but he wouldn't let her beauty or bloodline blind him from his true goals. Protecting the Realm and stopping The Army of the Dead.
Jon was King in the North, selected by those who knew his family and his trials to guide them all; To protect them. He had duties, expectations... obligations. How could he submit to this Queen, even if he himself knew she would be a worthy choice when the outcome of it all was so irrelevant? His men trusted him, they chose him and they needed him to be strong and do what is right for them... Bending the knee was of little importance, but saving the Realm wasn't.
"Your Grace... If I might have a word." Jon asked under a serious brow with hands linked loosely behind his back as he make brief eye contact with Tyrion and the others surrounding them. "In private, if I may."
After a moment she nodded once as the quiet shuffle of feet exited the Chamber of the Painted Table leaving the two in silence. Jon exhaled in full, as he watch her from the opposite side of the table. She was wearing a long black dress, the same one she'd worn the first day he met her, and by the Seven if she didn't look beautiful.
"Is this private enough for you, Jon Snow?" Daenerys asked as she pull herself gracefully from her chair at the head of the table. Linking her slender fingers into a tight braid as she walk closer to him, her eye contact unbreaking.
"Yes... Your Grace, I kn-"
"You may call me Daenerys." She interrupted him as she step lightly unlinking her fingers as she trace them along the edge of The Painted Table. "Continue."
"Daenerys, you have my gratitude... My armies stand a chance because of you. You've done what not many would and trusted someone you've never met. And now I'm asking you to trust me again." Jon's brow was still lowered, the concern and urgency was as prevalent on his face as it was in his voice.
"And what is it you're asking of me?" With a soft exhale she moved her purple eyes to his, reading him as best she could.
Jon raised a hand to the back of his neck as he nodded lowly. "The Army of the Dead are real and they are stronger than any man or woman, stronger than any army: We cannot win this battle alone. They're coming whether you choose to believe that or not-"
"And what if I do believe you?" Daenerys replied with a smooth silky voice, as she glance to the Painted Table beside her eyeing each wooden House piece momentarily. "If what you say is true then there won't be anything left to rule after…" Daenerys slid her finger tips over the House Stark piece with a soft finger, then move her eyes back to his. "What is it you're asking of me?"
"I'm going North, over The Wall... I plan to bring one of the dead to King's Landing. I'm going to show Queen Cersei what is coming for us. For all of us... If we want to win this war we will need more men."
"I have men." She replied back quickly, holding her jaw tightly together. Daenerys didn't like the idea of this Cersei Lannister on her throne, but she liked the idea of Jon going to her even less.
"Not enough." Jon said back under a soft sigh. "We need the support of everyone we can. That means those on the Iron Throne."
"No..." Daenerys swallowed as she shake her head briefly from side to side. "You don't have my permission to leave."
"With all due respect, Daenerys... I wasn't asking for permission. I am a king and I must do this." Jon was confident and could see by the expression on her face that she didn't like his response.
Jon lightly sighed as he slid his eyes to the walls momentarily. Tracing each scale carved into the wood forming a miraculous dragon. As he glide his gaze over each crevice he thought on her response. He himself didn't like it and he wondered if she thought he'd prefer miles upon miles of ice and snow to the comfort of a warm fire and meal at Dragonstone... Did she think he'd rather trek for days with what is out there instead of ruling the North in Winterfell? Did Daenerys believe he'd prefer the possibility of death to spending time alongside her?
Of course he didn't want to leave, but he had to. This was his battle and it was beginning to seem like it always had been.
"You'll get yourself killed." When she replied this time her voice wasn't strong or stern, but lined ever so slightly with apprehension.
"I might." Jon took a small step closer to her admiring the way the light shone behind her silvery white hair. The paleness of her face and her large round lavender colored eyes... He knew the way he was looking at her would be noticed, but he couldn't stop himself.
"Please don't..." Daenerys said quietly as she look to his chest thinking of the first day she met him and the words Davos had said.
He took a knife to the heart for his people. He gave his...
Now in those moments she wondered what those words truly meant. "I've grown rather fond of you."
Before he realized what he was doing, Jon reached a hand towards her cheek, tracing the back of his finger along it slowly. That look still ever present in his eyes, saying volumes more than any words he could form would. He watched her slightly shudder at the embrace as she drew a hurried breath in and swallow returning the look he sent her in full.
"I'm... I'm sorry Your Grace, please... forgive me." Jon's face changed to one trying to hide embarrassment as he remove his hand quickly, shifting his gaze towards his feet.
"Don't be." Daenerys didn't move and she didn't seem to notice his embarrassment or have minded he'd just touched her... She just stare with wide eyes holding a look of admiration behind them. "And I told you... Daenerys."