Game Of Thrones ~ Book Verse ~ Dany x Jon, Tyrion x Sansa, a little bit of Jaime x Brienne on the side

Spoiler Warning: Spoilers up to the last book and use of many a fan's and some of my own theories. This is basically my headcanon and what I really want to happen but probably won't because that's just how it works.

Disclaimer: GoT belongs to GRR Martin and I know he hates fan fiction but since he will never see this…if you do Mr. Martin, I'm sorry. Please don't sue me, I'm poor as fuck.

Setting: At Castle Black. People are reunited. They all got there somewhere, you will find out how for some, for some you won't. What's important is that they're there.

Notes: Unbeta'd. All faults are my own. Please leave a review if you liked it :)


WINTER'S END

JON

Jon Snow watched as Daenerys Targaryen paced up and down the length of the Lord Commander's chambers. Ser Barristan had been quiet for a while, looming over a map of Mance Rayder's kingdom beyond the wall, muttering only some odd words under his breath now and again. His wrinkled fingers traced river lines and mountain passes and he eyed it all like a hawk.

Everyone else was silent, lost to their own thoughts. Some time soon they would have to speak again and make plans but so far, it was like everyone waited for the mother of dragons to ask them for their thoughts. Daenerys, who had asked him to call her Dany as soon as she told him who she was and more importantly, who she'd learned that he was, commanded them all with a strange, inviting magic. She was young and beautiful and captivating. She seemed any inch as strong as Eddard Stark had. But where he had been hard-faced and stern in the face of trouble, Dany was radiating warmth and comfort and a fierce strength that made you believe in yourself almost as much as in her.

She was like a fire burning on a cold winter's night, like the only thing that would keep you from freezing to death. She was a life saver, the fire that promised to sustain them all.

In the candlelight, her silver hair shone golden, like softly burning coals and for the first time in what felt like years, Jon found himself thinking of something other than white walkers beyond the wall. It was a peculiar notion and had been since he'd awoken.

He felt like he had been dreaming for years, watching himself do strange things and speak strange words as if he wasn't even a part of his own body any more, bereft of feelings. And then he'd woken up to Dany's face, hovering above him, her silver hair falling onto his chest. His eyes had taken their time to adjust and first, in the dim light in the shadows of the wall, he had first thought her to be Ghost. Since that morning, it seemed that he was coming back to his senses. And hour he spent next to Daenerys touched him in some different place.

It took nothing more than a look of hers, a frown, a smile or a gentle word here and there and he needed no other medicine, needed not to trouble old Maester Aemon, his true great-grandfather as he had learned recently. He was growing stronger by the day and all the things he thought had been lost to him forever were returning, steadily pulsing back into his veins as if his blood was flowing quicker with hers so close.

He didn't know a name for the feelings he bared for her. They were as grand and consuming as they'd been instant. He was lost to her, like everyone else. And it was not merely the kind of natural desire, the need to be close, the natural pull of a woman on a young man like it had been with Ygritte – it was so much more. He loved her like he loved Arya too, and Sam.

"I can't think," she said into the silence and momentarily everyone looked up, roused from their various ponderings and Jon stood straighter, "It's too stuffy. I need space, an open sky."

Jon took a step forward, away from the wall he'd been leaning on. His body was as much his as hers, he moved when she did. Like he was her Ghost. Or her black dragon, the biggest of the three she had ridden to the wall. Still, she had that effect on everyone. Ser Barristan had stepped away from his map, Samwell stood like Sansa and even Tyrion Lannister had gotten to his short legs.

"We have a whole wall under stars, your Grace," Jon said, "I take it you are not afraid of heights. You've seen the world from your dragon's back, you might like to see it from the Wall."

Dany looked at him for a while with a look he took for approval and finally nodded, "Would you be so kind as to take me up, Lord Snow?"

Jon bowed obediently and moved to lead the way. Ser Barristan and Tyrion had set in motion to follow but Daenerys held out her small hand and they stopped short, "I would go with Lord Snow. He will see that no harm comes to me."

Ser Barrister nodded as she addressed the others in the room. "You best rest for a while now. We have a long night ahead of us. Eat, drink," she said and turned to Tyrion, "but not too much, I need your minds sound and sharp when I return."

"As my Lady commands," Tyrion said in good humour and stepped aside to join Sansa where she stood by the fire, her sewing needle in hand. She smiled at Jon like she knew something he didn't and curtsied to Dany as she bid her goodbye.

Jon lead Dany out of the Lord Commander's tower and she didn't start at the sharp wind of the harsh winter come at last. Over their heads Daenerys' dragons flew their circles, instating a little air of safety. They flew lower now, as if they had sensed her coming nearer and as they rode the cage up to the top of the wall, Jon saw them passing by, swearing he could see their red eyes trained on them. Finally his lady shuddered when a brisker wind hit them and Jon undid his heavy fur. "May I, your Grace?"

She let him wrap his coat around her slender shoulders and she smiled up at him. "You are too kind, Lord Snow," she said, looking even smaller in his big cloak. However, to Jon, she still felt ten feet tall.

"I'm used to the cold, my Lady," he said, "I feel I haven't really been warm since…well, since even before you and the Red Woman brought me back."

It was still quite true and even now he was cold to the bone. He had become like his name, frozen like snow. As if it was ice in his blood more than life. Sometimes, before he fell into dreamless sleep, he wondered if he truly was just another of the Dead men. Only that now, he felt like himself again and his eyes were still the same coal black they'd always been.

In that moment, Dany raised her hand to his cheek as if she had heard his thoughts. It was instantly warm where she touched him. But more than that. Soon the warmth was spreading, from that spot on his reddened cheek, where her fingertips curled gently into his skin, to the skin on his scalp and the tips of his toes. A little sound escaped him without warning or hope of holding it back. It was a throaty sigh of surprise, relief and wonder. It was like coming alive all over again.

"You don't feel cold to me," Dany said quietly but her voice carried over the howling wind all the same, "Blood of my blood."

Her eyes locked on his, holding him there and the world faded to nothing but these purple pools that seemed to see right through to his very core.

"We're dragons," she said, closer yet, "If anyone can bring out the warmth so far north, it's you and me together."

There was so much weight in her words, promise and history, past and future if they'd ever hope to have one. It rattled inside him like the cage that at last came to an halt on top of the edge of the world. He was a Stark, raised in the North, named for Snow, but he was a dragon too. He was a dragon like Daenerys Targaryen and she was right. If anyone could do it, set this cold world on fire, it was the two of them.

"Maybe fire is the only thing that can save us, Gods have mercy," Jon said although he wasn't too sure if he meant only Westeros but his own soul as well. Judging from the way his bones were still warm from her touch like they hadn't been in so long, he was ready to believe that she was the only one who could make him feel human again. He was kinder, softer with her. Like he had been all this time ago when he'd been little but a boy and arrived at the wall, ready to raise to a grim night and do what it took to protect Samwell Tarly.

At last, Dany dropped her hand, leaving a chill and a yearning and Jon opened the cage to let her out onto the wall. They passed Crows, Dothraki and dark soldiers alike on their way to the far watch point. The guards had been doubled and trippled since Dany's men had arrived from the sea. They were miserable in the cold, even under heavy rags but as Dany went by, she spoke to them in soft tones, touching their hands and faces and Jon knew thy would gladly freeze to death for their khaleesi, their mhysa.

"They are good men," he said as they'd relieved five of them from the watch point to be undisturbed, "Faithful to the grave to you."

"They honour me," she replied in earnest, "every last one of them. I gave them a choice, you know. When they found me, them and Ser Barristan and Lord Tyrion, I said I would have to cross the Narrow Sea to hope and save my kindgoms – a land that wasn't even theirs. A land I'd never even seen. I was as much a stranger to Westeros as any of them. Yet it was still my land. I told them they didn't have to come. This war was not supposed to be their battle. Alas they all came. All of them, every last man, woman and child."

After that, she was quiet for a while, looking down at the camp the men had set up in front of the haunted forest. The women and children were south of the wall but Dany's men had said they feared no enemy and would slay them before any of them would even touch the wall.

"They're my children, Jon," Dany said, deep in thought, her words forming little clouds of dusk in the cold air, "I fear for them. I fear that I've marched them halfway across the world to die so far from home."

"You still gave them a choice," Jon answered as he hoped to give her a little comfort, "they're here out of love for you."

"And I pray to all the Gods, old and new and foreign, that love can save them," she said gravely, "but many will still die and if we fail…we are all lost. How much of a choice is that? And you…I helped bring you back to fight for me and never asked you if you wanted it."

"My Lady, forgive me, I mean not to disrespect you but that was not ever really your choice to give me. If I'd been of sound mind I'd have returned out of my own power. You helped me return and I am forever in your debt but I was sworn to protect the realm, supposed to fight this war before I even knew of you in the world," Jon said, his voice far smaller than his words. He was afraid he would upset her but strangely, his love for her forbade him to flatter her out of courtesy. He would remain honest with her, always.

"Of course," Dany said, not upset to his ears, in contrary. For the first time she sounded her age, young as she was and almost sheepish. He even thought to see her blush in the moonlight, "I'm imposing. Forgive me, sometimes I fear I have a Queen's vanity."

"It's quite alright, my Lady," he said, moving closer to her, Gods knew why. He was touched deeply and hotly by the idea that she was afraid he'd find her vain, that she would even bother herself with the thought. "It's all the same now. If I'd gotten here only yesterday, from any corner of the world, I would still be right were I am. I'd have vowed my life to you just the same. With things as they are, I just have even more to die for."

"Because I'm of your blood?" Her eyes were huge and searching his and now he was certain of her blush. She hadn't moved away from him, if anything she'd gotten closer yet. Now she made him warm without even touching him. He felt the rush of being a man, another feeling he could've sworn dead to him just a few short weeks before.

"You are my blood," he muttered hotly, emboldened by her closeness, dizzy from her fragrance and bewitched by her violet eyes, "You're cursing through me, you're everywhere, everything."

"Jon," she breathed as if she had been holding her breath and last he was sure he'd truly come back from the dead, for when she pressed her soft lips on his, a fire ignited within him and set him ablaze. He was sure to be burning, bright like a second sun in the sky, bright enough to cast away any shadow. As he closed his arms around her tiny frame and kissed her back, kissing him drunk and dizzy on her, he found himself taken back to a vision, a dream he'd once had.

He thought of the burning sword in his hand, as real as her body under his fingers and in bursting flames. A hot, blazing weapon, just like her. And he thought that maybe it had been her, all this time. That she would be his saving grace, his fiery sword and his iron armour, encasing him like lava. And despite all her fire she didn't burn him. She couldn't because he was a dragon too. She could only shield him, strengthen him. He could drink in her fire and breathe it out like her dragons. He could breathe it on the dark ones, the cold ones that where walking towards the wall.

Jon felt light-headed, everything burning from her kisses, everything but his skin. She was just as fierce and hungry in turn, tucking and pulling like he was washing over her like a soft, cooling river. She nearly threw them both to their death with her force, almost knocking them off the edge to shatter at the bottom of the wall. But then what a sweet death it would've been. Jon ought to know. He'd died another death before. Dying in her arms was the only sweet death he could ever imagine.

"Careful, my love," he said, breathless, pulling her away from the edge still.

"Drogon would have caught us," Dany smiled contentedly, "he would've plucked us right out of the air."

Jon laughed, beside himself and touched her face with his gloved hands.

"We ought to ride him tomorrow," she said, "he'll let you. He'll know who you are. You should have practice on them before they come."

Jon looked at her for a while and then tucked a stray strand of silver hair back behind her ear. It was red. From heat or cold, he couldn't say.

"You think we should ride them into battle?"

"What other choice do we have?" She sighed and he knew she was right. Jon leaned down to kiss her softly on the crown of her neck.

"I'm glad you didn't forsake me," she said then, looking down at his coat around her as if she was too shy to look into his eyes, "I have never wanted any man so suddenly and so desperately as I do you. I'd dared to hope when you said you would take me up here. To the place of your watch. Beneath the open sky."

Jon was lost for words and amazed beyond even a thought for a while. Then he found it incomprehensible, to think that she had hoped for him. That she thought he could have pushed her away even if he tried. And he could not have, not for any oath he'd sworn.

"How could I refuse you? I love you like the rest of them," he murmured and kissed her again, with a slow groan at the back of his throat, "And I love you more, and I'll fight the whole world for you. But you must know, my Queen, I'm not worthy of you. I'm known to the world as a bastard, I've forsaken all possible titles…everything. I'm only Jon Snow."

"But you are not, my Lord," Dany whispered fervently, "You are my brother's son, just as much an heir to the iron throne as I am."

"I don't and I can not care for the Iron Throne," he was so close to her that all he saw was her face.

"But you care for me."

"I do."

"And when I am Queen, you won't be known as a bastard no more," she said, with fire glowing in her eyes, "You'll be Jon of House Targaryen, the first of his name and King of the Seven Kingdoms, my King and my Lord Husband. My solace and my blood."

Jon had half the mind to agree to anything she asked but still –

"I never wanted to be king and I'm a man of the Night's Watch. I swore an oath."

"To protect the realm and you will," she was insistent, "I've seen you with your men and mine. You are gentle and kind bit firm if you need be. They love you as they love me. You do not seek power – only peace. There can be no better king. And who but the Men of the Night's Watch would understand that better?"

"I don't know, Dany."

"Oh, but I do. Protect the realm. By my side. We can be the best King and Queen this world has ever seen. And we will have a son who will unite Pentos and both our lands will grow and prosper and strive in plenty. We'll have peace and freedom for every man, woman and child."

Jon found himself seeing what she saw and more than that, he liked it. He saw their reign and he saw their son. A sturdy little boy, black of hair and with his mother's eyes.

"If we survive this winter, we will talk about it," he surrendered, "if we survive this next fortnight."

Dany nodded gravely, as if she had just remembered that there was still a battle to fight and the enemy was fast approaching.

"We best get back," she said, reluctantly unwrapping herself from him.

"We best."

"But you will stay at my side now, Jon Snow," she said, "Blood of my blood. You must never leave me."

Jon swore it, beside himself and sealed it with a long, deep kiss. He could not have done anything else for the life of him. She smiled at him, brightly and her hair glistened silver in the moonlight. She was so beautiful. "Let's go," she said and he followed her back to the cage and spent the entire ride down looking at her from the side.

"You are staring, my lord," she giggled finally, high like a chime and the moment felt like they were somewhere entirely bereft of troubles, like standing on some lush green field in the sun with bees buzzing around them and tender flowers swaying in light summer wind with nothing to face but sunset.

"I can not help it," he admitted and pulled her against his side, allowing himself just another moment of that happiness and the human warmth she spread through his cold body. It ended all too soon, with the cage setting up roughly on the icy ground and Dany walked briskly ahead, leaving no trace of their earlier intimacy. He supposed that she did not intend to flaunt it for the time being. He quite agreed. He knew, if he lived, there was no way around the future she had layed out for him, as much a plea as a command, but he would rather not hear the brother's thoughts on this. Even if she said they would understand and lift him off his oath...would they truly?

Jon tried to seem as though nothing had happened and led Daenerys into the Lord Commander's chambers without more of a word. The others rose and Jon saw that Sansa had made progress on sewing Tyrion's torn cape while they had been gone and the men had been eating and drinking. Her cup of red wine was half empty but the plate of stew stood untouched before her.

"Are you not hungry?" Jon asked her as he took his place near the fire. Sansa looked up and shook her head.

"I can't eat with the wall at my back," she glanced backwards and then relented, "or rather with what lies beyond."

She did not seem afraid, like the child he'd known, her fear was very much that of a woman grown and Jon was amazed once again what little years could do to a girl. Her auburn hair was growing back, leaving a sharp edge to the ones dyed black before. She wore them in a high braid, so it looked like her head was topped with a red crown. She was quite beautiful. She looked a lot like her mother which still gave Jon a small start every now and again. "You will leave on the morrow," he told her, "I think the weather will hold up now, at least long enough for you to get safely to Winterfell."

Sansa was to lead the Dothraki women and children to Winterfell and beyond if the wall would fall, gods prevail. Rickon had been intent to stay and fight but with Bran still missing, the boy was heir to Winterfell and had only seen eight name days. Sansa was the only who could calm him down, telling him of his place in the world. Jon supposed she was as much a stranger to him as any of them – Rickon remembered only Bran and he was somewhere beyond the wall, out of reach. Still, something about her calmed the boy into submission and tamed his feral temperament, maybe it was Catelyn's look to her. Sansa nodded, she had noted the change in the weather too. The days before, it had been snowing like the clouds came down on them and winds howled harsh and loud like Ghost and Shaggydog cried to the moon. Now, the air was brittle cold but calm as the sea. As if the world was holding its breath for what was to come.

"Did her Grace like the top of the world?" Sansa asked quietly with a mischievous glint in her eye. Truly, Jon thought, she is a woman grown now. "She looks flushed."

Jon chose not to say anything and Sansa took it as answer enough. He doubted that she knew what happened for sure but women had a weird sense for these things that he did not understand. However there was no time to ponder about his cousin's heightened senses. He turned his attention back to the crowd of men in the room – and noted that it had grown by one man and one very tall woman, they had finally returned from hunting. Ser Davos, who had delivered Rickon and his wildling friend Osha to the wall, safe and sound, stood beside the tallest woman Jon had ever seen in his life. Brienne of Tarth had brought Sansa to Tyrion on their campaign north and had stuck with them to fight for their cause. She was a true knight, never spoke much but when she did, it was always worth hearing. Speaking now, however, was Tyrion.

"...that would do for the Dead Men but I fear even fire is not enough to kill a White Walker." His brow was furrowed as he leaned over a mess of scrolls and books that were placed above Ser Barristan's map. "We have the Dragonglass Ser Davos brought from Dragonstone but not nearly enough to arm every men with it. And since we can not forge Valaryian steel we have to make due with the little of it we have."

"It is not said the legends of Valaryian steel are true," said Jon, glancing past Tyrion to Sam, who was bent on the belief that Jon's sword Longclaw could cut through the Others but Jon still had his doubts.

"We need more than that," Dany interjected from her place near Ser Barristan, "We need something better than guessing."

"If anything, plain steel can hold them off for a while," offered Sam gravely, "but not for long. They don't tire and they don't exhaust themselves, they don't have to. They could walk right through you."

He shuddered and for a while there was a heavy silence among them. Sam was the only man who had ever killed one of the Others. What a strange world, Jon thought, where a man who calls himself a coward is the only one who could yet defeat a White Walker.

"Be that as it may," Dany said, turning to Sam, strict but not unkind, "We still need a plan, something wicked enough to put an end to them."

"Aye," said Ser Davos.

"Wicked," Tyrion echoed, "It would need be thoroughly wicked, truly."


Next: SANSA