Based on events during Episode 3 of GoT Season 7
When dawn broke the next day, Jon had already been awake for quite a while. He'd had a troubled nights' sleep, his dreams filled with dragons and White Walkers and Daenerys Targaryen, glaring at him with hatred in her startlingly blue eyes. Nevertheless, he knew that Daenerys could not hate him as much in reality as his dreams had depicted; if she did, then she certainly would not have provided him and Davos with such generous lodgings. Despite the gloomy, depressing nature of the castle, the bed chamber in which Jon had tried to sleep last night had been most exquisite. Even the food and bath had been quite exceptional.
As the sun rose, Jon put on his armour and cloak, and ventured out of his room into the melancholy, cold corridors. He came across a few of Daenerys' Dothraki guards, but they simply nodded at him and allowed him to go on his way, just as Missandei had assured him yesterday evening. Jon was surprised that he was allowed to roam free, but grateful; after the disaster of yesterday's audience with Daenerys, it was the only positive thing out of his visit so far that he was able to explore the impressive grounds of Dragonstone, both inside the castle and out.
The moors surrounding the castle were incredibly vast, and windy. Jon trudged along the moors for a few hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of his ship somewhere around the island…but to no avail. He had no idea where Daenerys could have ordered her Queensguard to hide it. It was highly infuriating. He wanted to get off Dragonstone as soon as he could; there was no point in him and Davos staying here. Daenerys had made it very clear that she was not going to help him.
Jon stayed stood at the edge of the cliffs for quite a while, looking out miserably at the ocean and vast horizons beyond, when he heard footsteps approaching. He turned, expecting to see Davos, only it was Tyrion…looking extremely disheartened.
Tyrion came to a halt not far away from Jon as he, too, turned to look out over the ocean. 'I came out here to brood over my failure to predict the Greyjoy attack,' was Tyrion's greeting, and he glanced over at Jon. 'You're making it difficult. You look a lot better brooding than I do. You make me feel like I'm failing at brooding over failing.'
'I'm a prisoner on this island,' Jon said bluntly.
'I wouldn't say you're a prisoner on this island,' Tyrion said. 'You're free to walk the castle, the beaches, to go wherever you want.'
'Except to my ship,' Jon retorted. 'You took my ship.'
Tyrion raised his eyebrows at him. 'I wouldn't say we took your ship-'
'I'm not playing word games with you,' Jon interrupted, exhausted of trying to argue his point. 'The dead are coming for us all.'
'Why don't you figure out what to do about my missing fleet and murdered allies, and I'll figure out what to do about your walking dead men?' Tyrion suggested sarcastically.
'It's hard for me to fathom, it really is. If someone told me about the White Walkers and the Night King…' Jon trailed off and hung his head, closing his eyes in frustration as he realised how ridiculous he was sounding. 'You probably don't believe me.'
Tyrion considered him for a moment. 'I do actually,' he admitted.
'You didn't before,' Jon reminded him. ''Grumpkins' and 'snarks' you called them. do you remember? You said it was all nonsense.'
Tyrion nodded. 'It was nonsense. Everybody knew it. But then Mormont saw them and you saw them, and I trust the eyes of an honest man more than I trust what everybody knows,' he said, as he slowly walked up to Jon.
'How do I convince people who don't know me that an enemey they don't believe in is coming to kill them all?' Jon asked hopelessly.
They both knew that by 'people', he really meant 'Daenerys'. She was why he had come here. She was the most important thing right now. She and her dragons were the only option they had left.
'Good question.'
'I know it's a good question, I'm looking for an answer,' Jon said exasperatedly.
'People's minds aren't made for problems that large. White Walkers, the Night King…Army of the Dead…it's almost a relief to confront a comfortable, familiar monster like my sister,' Tyrion murmured.
'I need to help prepare my people for what's coming. I can't help them from here,' Jon said firmly, as the wind battered his cloak, and he turned to Tyrion. 'I'd like to leave.'
Tyrion shook his head in disappointment. 'It seems unlikely that you became King in the North by giving up that easily.'
'Everyone told me to learn from my father's mistakes – don't go south…don't answer a summons from the Mad King's daughter, a foreign invader. And here I am. A northern fool,' Jon said bitterly.
'Children are not their fathers…luckily for all of us. And sometimes there's more to foreign invaders and northern fools than meets the eye. Daenerys could have sailed for Westeros long ago but she didn't. Instead she stayed where she was and saved many people from horrible fates, some of whom are on this island with us right now,' Tyrion said, and Jon watched him carefully, hanging onto every word. 'While you're our guest here you might consider asking them what they think of the Mad King's daughter. She protects people from monsters, just as you do. That's why she came here. And she's not about to head north to fight an enemy she's never seen on a word of a man she doesn't know, after a single meeting. That's not a reasonable thing to ask.'
Jon looked at him for a moment, and then nodded reluctantly, realising that he was right. Defeated, Jon then began to walk away.
'So do you have anything reasonable to ask?' Tyrion asked.
Jon stopped and turned back around to face him. 'What do you mean?'
'Maybe you are a northern fool,' Tyrion said dryly. 'I'm asking if there's something I can do to help you.'
Jon frowned, deep in thought. He knew what he had come here for. The question was, would Daenerys allow him to get it?
'As far as I can tell your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father's name'… 'As far as I can tell your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father's name' … 'As far as I can tell your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father's name' ….
Jon Snow's harsh words from yesterday kept ringing through Daenerys' mind as she tried to focus on the map and plans laid about before her in the chamber of the painted table. It had been a very frustrating morning, and even more so this afternoon. She and her council were simply not getting anywhere in working out the best strategy to recover after the Greyjoys' defeat. It didn't help matters that Lord Varys kept bringing up the one name Daenerys did not want to hear throughout their discussions.
'So, you are quite sure you have not changed your mind about Jon Snow, Your Grace?' Varys asked hopefully. 'Lady Melisandre seemed quite insistent that he would prove most useful-'
'I will not abandon my own war to go to battle with mythical beings who may not even exist, Lord Varys,' Daenerys snapped, and then she looked up to see Tyrion stood in the doorway. 'Yes, come in. Thank you, Varys.'
The room emptied so that Daenerys and Tyrion were alone in the map room. Daenerys wished she could relax, but even with Tyrion there her shoulders were tensed up. She was constantly anxious, constantly burdening herself with the woes of the world. Always playing the role she had been born to be, never quite knowing what was her true self.
'You have news?' she asked, barely looking up from the table.
'No. A request,' Tyrion said simply, and Daenerys looked up at him, her interest perked.
'A request?'
'Hmm. From Jon Snow.'
Daenerys raised her eyebrows at him. 'Oh, really? And he is too cowardly to make this request to me directly?'
'He only mentioned it to me in passing, I said I would simply relay the message as your Hand. And…he senses that you are not overly fond of his company,' Tyrion admitted; Daenerys avoided his disapproving gaze, embarrassed. 'He agreed that it would be best for me to speak to you.'
'Very well, what is this request of his?' she asked.
'Well, it is one of the main reasons why he travelled all the way here in the first place, as a matter of fact. It was brought to his attention a while ago that Dragonstone contains Dragonglass,' Tyrion explained, and Daenerys raised her eyebrows. 'He would like your permission to mine it from the caves on the island. I gather he and the northerners need it quite desperately.'
'Dragonglass,' Daenerys said blankly, unimpressed.
'Yes. Volcanic glass – obsidian,' Tyrion clarified, and Daenerys rolled her eyes. 'He says you have a tremendous amount of it here.'
'Why are we talking about glass?' Daenerys demanded, infuriated. 'We just lost two of our allies!'
'Which is why I was speaking to Jon Snow, a potential ally,' Tyrion said slowly, fixing her with a stern gaze.
Daenerys lowered her eyes awkwardly. She was being petty and childish, she knew that. But she couldn't help it; things had gone from bad to worse since Jon Snow had arrived at her home.
'And what does the King in the North want with Dragonglass?' she asked cynically.
'Apparently it can be turned into weapons that kill White Walkers and their foot soldiers,' Tyrion replied, but then he frowned. 'Or…stop them…destroy them…I'm unsure of the nomenclature.'
Daenerys rested her hand on her hip as she walked around the table towards him, exasperated. 'And what do you think of this…Army of the Dead and…White Walkers and Night Kings?'
'I'd very much like to believe that Jon Snow is wrong,' Tyrion said, 'but a wise man once said that you should never believe a thing simply because you want to believe it.'
Daenerys eyed him suspiciously. 'Which wise man said this?'
Tyrion hesitated. 'I don't remember,' he said innocently.
'Are you trying to present your own statements as ancient wisdom?'
'I would never do that...to you,' Tyrion replied hastily. 'The reason I believe Jon Snow is because he's here. All of his advisors would have told him not to come. I would have told him not to come, yet he's here anyway.'
Daenerys paused, her back turned so that Tyrion could not see her expression. She knew Tyrion was right. She didn't want him to be, but he was.
'You don't have to believe him. Let him mine the Dragonglass. If he's wrong, it's worthless. You didn't even know it was here. It's nothing to you,' Tyrion pointed out. 'Give him something by giving him nothing. Take a step toward a more productive relationship with a possible ally. Keep him occupied while we focus on the task at hand – Casterly Rock.'
'What was that Ser Davos said?' Daenerys said thoughtfully, turning around to face Tyrion. 'About…taking a knife in the heart for his people. Did you notice that?'
It had been preying on her mind ever since she had witnessed that strange look exchanged between Jon and Ser Davos yesterday.
Tyrion nodded. 'You must allow them their flights of fancy. It's dreary in the North,' he replied.
Daenerys nodded at him, though she wasn't satisfied with his answer. 'Where is Lord Snow now?' she asked.
'I-I'm not quite sure, but…you cannot continue to address him as 'Lord',' Tyrion said uncomfortably, and he gave her a reproachful look. 'With respect, Your Grace, it will do nothing for your political relationship.'
'There is no relationship,' Daenerys muttered, rolling her eyes.
'But there could be,' Tyrion said imploringly. 'If you approached Jon Snow with a more open mind.'
Daenerys rounded on him sharply. 'Are you saying our disagreement yesterday was my fault?'
'W-well…yes!' Tyrion replied, grimacing. 'You were too busy wanting to impress him instead of actually listening to what he was saying.'
Daenerys looked flustered. 'You speak as if it was wrong for me to be cautious. I have encountered many men who have later revealed themselves to be treacherous,' she said, her voice shaking slightly with anger. 'You say you trust this Jon Snow, but it isn't that easy for me. I don't know him at all.'
'So get to know him. Listen to what he has to say,' Tyrion urged. 'And give him permission to explore the caves for Dragonglass.'
Sighing irritably, Daenerys turned her back on him, closing her hands together and trying to stop her fingers from twitching in her agitation. She did not like to be chastised by her Hand. Nor did she like to face the hard truth that she had been behaving rather unreasonably around this Jon Snow.
'Do you think he thought me a fool?' Daenerys asked quietly, not looking around at him. 'Yesterday, in the audience chamber?'
A hint of a sympathetic smile crossed Tyrion's face as he tilted his head at her. 'Is that what you're afraid of?'
'I'm not afraid,' Daenerys said at once. 'I just want him – anyone – to see me as a worthy queen to follow.'
'If you are more gracious to him, if you…take off that mask and allow him to know what you are really like underneath all that splendour and those grand titles…then…I have no doubt that he will,' Tyrion said bracingly.
'It's funny. Missandei said something similar to me yesterday,' Daenerys murmured.
'Well, she's very wise. Like me,' Tyrion said, and Daenerys' lips twitched.
She thought back to how she had felt yesterday morning, just before Jon Snow's arrival. She had been anxiously walking the length of the map room, back and forth, wondering whether this stranger would be a threat to her cause. She could vividly remember Tyrion's earnest words before he went to greet their guest down at the shore, desperately trying to reassure her.
'Jon Snow can help. He has the loyalty of his people. He is the first man in history to unite the wildlings and the Northerners,' Tyrion had said confidently. 'He is a good man. We can trust him.'
Daenerys sighed as she turned to the open archway of the map room now and looked across at the horizon. She wished that she hadn't spent their entire audience yesterday speaking so much about her own misfortune, her own birthright. She didn't want Jon Snow to think her some ignorant, self-centred queen. Not that it mattered what this Jon Snow thought of her personally, of course it didn't. But still, she knew – as did everyone else on her council – that he was never going to swear his fealty to her if she continued to act this way. In all honesty, she wouldn't blame him either. She had spent their entire conversation talking consistently – obsessively, even – about how she rightfully deserved the Iron Throne, whereas he had talked only about what the people of the Seven Kingdoms needed. He did not seek power, unlike her. And it made her feel rather foolish. Perhaps it was time for her to calm down and lower the mask a little, just like Tyrion had suggested…and to consider what Jon was saying.
Deciding that she needed to get some air, Daenerys then left Tyrion in the map room and made her way out of the castle, deep in thought. The sun was only just beginning to set as she walked slowly down the path, and it was a glorious evening; her dragons were soaring peacefully over the still ocean. She came to a stop at the foot of one of the stone stairways, and rested her arms on the stone wall as she looked out over the cliffs, the sparkling sea glistening below.
She was too lost in a daydream to hear the gentle footsteps behind her as Jon slowly walked down the stone steps. He had been taking another walk around the cliffs, only to spot the sight of Daenerys' long silver hair, which she had tied up, at the bottom of the path. He watched in awe as one of her dragons flew above him with a heavy beat of his wings, crying out to his brother as he soared out towards the sea and the mountains in the distance.
'Amazing thing to see,' Jon said in greeting, awestruck, as he approached her from the steps.
Daenerys blinked, but did not turn around. 'I named them for my brothers, Viserys and Rhaegal,' she replied. 'They're both gone now.'
She turned around to face Jon, her arm still resting on the stone wall, to see that today he wore a huge fur-lined black cloak over his armour, billowing behind him in the fierce wind. Jon was somewhat relieved to come face to face with her after the tense ending to their conversation yesterday. Her expression seemed to have softened since then; her eyes were certainly no longer angry as she gazed up at him.
'You lost two brothers as well?' Daenerys said softly.
Jon gave a small nod of his head, his face falling as the grief washed over him again. At least they had something in common.
'People thought dragons were gone forever but here they are,' Daenerys said, looking out at her dragons, and she turned back to look up at Jon. 'Perhaps we should all be examining what we think we know.'
Jon bent his head low, pleasantly surprised by her words. Perhaps a day apart since their first meeting had been good for them; he certainly felt that, with the hostility and tension between them having seemingly deteriorated – at least for now – he was beginning to warm to her slightly. Jon took a few steps forward to stand beside her, and looked back out at the dragons, briefly recalling in his mind the stories his Old Nan had told him as a child. All the fairy tales he had never dared believe were true, but wanted to be true… and now they were. This was a new age, and he and Daenerys Targaryen were on the front lines of it.
'You've been talking to Tyrion,' Jon muttered.
Daenerys barely refrained from rolling her eyes. 'He is my Hand,' she pointed out, as she rested her back against the wall.
She found it easier to talk to him without a room full of people watching them. She could sense he felt the same; there was a sense of familiarity about the way they spoke to each other, as if they had known each other a long time.
'He enjoys talking,' Jon said.
'We all enjoy what we're good at,' Daenerys said, raising her eyebrows.
There was a short silence as they both listened to the waves of the sea down below.
'I don't,' Jon eventually said, continuing to stare out at the horizon.
Daenerys paused and looked at him, her attention perked, her curiosity increased even more. She was reminded inexplicably of when Ser Barristan had once told her how her brother Rhaegal had never liked killing, despite how good he had been at it. Rhaegal had been notoriously kind, a leader without ambition, a leader who hadn't been greedy. It seemed that Jon shared the same attractive qualities. She glanced Jon up and down now; stood there in his impressive regal attire with his great big cloak, he looked almost intimidating.
When she realised that she had been gazing at Jon for too long, Daenerys then spoke up. 'You know I'm not going to let Cersei stay on the Iron Throne.'
'I never expected that you would,' Jon said, turning to face her.
'And I haven't changed my mind about which kingdoms belong to that throne,' she went on, tilting her head at him.
'I haven't either,' Jon retorted firmly, a fierce, challenging look in his eyes.
Daenerys stared at him for a moment, livid. She'd thought she had a good point until she'd heard Jon's comeback. Sighing and nostrils flaring, she looked away from him, infuriated.
She had been determined not to let him get to her this time, but he was making it so hard. She felt out of place; taken aback, even. Why was he so unyielding, so unimpressed? It was maddening. She had finally met someone as stubborn as she was, and it was then when Daenerys realised that never before had she found herself in this sort of situation before. She had never interacted with a man with whom she was on equal footing. It was somewhat daunting.
Jon clearly shared her feeling of frustration; he turned away from her as well, exhaling deeply and frowning broodingly over at the horizon. It was as if neither of them could stand the sight of each other, when actually deep down the complete opposite was true.
They stood in silence for a few moments, Daenerys thinking deeply. There was no winning with this man. No getting her own way. In a strange way, a part of her almost liked this about him; he was a challenge. She thought back to the vulnerability of his comment about how he did not enjoy leading. She could practically hear Tyrion's urgent words of advice in her ear.
Eventually, Daenerys turned to look at him. 'I will allow you to mine the Dragonglass and forge weapons from it,' she said, and Jon gazed at her, barely able to hide his surprise. 'Any resources or men you need I will provide for you.'
Jon considered her for a moment in awe, speechless. Her face – or rather, her expression – was so different to that of the woman he had met in the imposing audience chamber yesterday. She was not trying to intimidate him or force his hand this time; she was taking the first step in forming a trust between the two of them. And her soft expression was genuine, he could tell. It left Jon feeling rather stunned, and embarrassed for thinking so badly of her before.
'Thank you,' Jon said sincerely.
She did not smile; in response, Daenerys simply turned back to face the ocean, in a gesture clearly intended to mean that the conversation had finished. Jon turned to leave, but then held back before he could stop himself.
'So you believe me then?' Jon asked. 'About the Night King and the Army of the Dead?'
He didn't know why he asked her this. After all, why did he care what her opinion of him was? All that mattered was the Dragonglass. And yet there was something else…something deeper brewing beneath the surface. He wasn't sure if he was alone in feeling it; it was clear that Daenerys was determined not to give away a single hint of what she was feeling beneath her regal exterior.
Daenerys did not answer him, nor did she look at him…perhaps because, truthfully, she didn't know what to believe, and she didn't want to disrespect him anymore than she had already done yesterday. But she was touched that he wanted her to share his belief. She wasn't sure why, but she was.
'You better get to work, Jon Snow,' was Daenerys' reply, as she continued to look out at the sea.
Jon lowered his eyes awkwardly. The way she spoke his full name reminded him painfully of Ygritte. He hadn't thought of Ygritte – or of any part of that side of his life – for a great deal of time now. It was strange to suddenly be met with overwhelming feelings of nostalgia…of longing for the way he had felt back then with Ygritte…to be held and loved and kissed…to have someone to cherish once more. After Ygritte had died, Jon had just assumed that he would never want to experience that feeling again. And yet now, suddenly, it was washing over him like the waves crashing below, waking him up from his stupor. His face fell slightly as he gazed at Daenerys beside him, still determinedly not looking at him; this was not good at all. He could not become attracted to her. It would be a disaster in the making.
Taking Daenerys' words as a dismissal, Jon then turned and walked away, back up the stone steps.
Daenerys looked back to watch him leave, and her features softened as her expression filled with intrigue. She couldn't help wondering what kind of man Jon Snow was. He was so different from all the others. She even felt some sort of connection towards him…she trusted him, and had no idea why. It made her curious.
Her heart skipped a beat slightly when she watched Jon come to a halt on his way up the steps; she turned quickly back to face the ocean so that he would not catch her gazing at him.
Jon turned back to her, a somewhat nervous expression on his face. 'Back at Winterfell,' he began, 'my sister Sana and all my bannermen told me not to come here. They said you'd never let me leave.'
Daenerys slowly turned to face him. 'Maybe they were right,' she said, unsmiling.
Jon stared at her. She was joking. At least…he thought she was joking. But then again, did she even have a sense of humour? She appeared too cold-hearted to make jokes. Hovering awkwardly, Jon took a step back, slightly perturbed by Daenerys' response. But then he felt his heart leap; despite her best efforts, Daenerys' lips had twitched into an ever so small, but very present, smile. A smile that seemed to change everything for him. Jon chuckled so quietly that she could not hear him, and then, with an appreciative nod, he turned and promptly walked up the rest of the stone path towards the castle. Daenerys watched him go, bewildered by the automatic response of her facial muscles. She couldn't remember the last time she had smiled like that. Perhaps it was his overwhelmingly awkward expression at her reply that had amused her so. But still, whatever it was, it unnerved her.
Daenerys exhaled deeply. Pull yourself together.
She turned away, back to watch her ferocious, beautiful dragons as they sang to each other and danced in the air above the glistening ocean.
The next day found Daenerys up bright and early and already inside the map room before breakfast, preparing for her councils' forthcoming discussions on how best to proceed with Casterly Rock. Tyrion joined her not long after.
'Good morning, Your Grace,' he greeted. 'Missandei informed me you were already here.'
'Yes,' Daenerys murmured distractedly, and she looked up at him. 'Do you know if Jon Snow has gone down to the caves yet?'
Tyrion looked slightly taken aback by the question. 'He's due to begin exploring the caves this morning, yes,' he replied, eyeing her unsurely. 'He hopes that they will be able to locate the Dragonglass very soon.'
Daenerys nodded. 'Good. Make sure he has everything he needs.'
'I will,' Tyrion said, and he tilted his head at her, stunned. 'I'm impressed you're giving our honoured prisoner such generous thought.'
'He is not a prisoner,' Daenerys said with a disapproving glance at him, but she paused when she caught sight of Tyrion's raised eyebrows.
'Whatever he is…I'm sure he appreciates how accommodating you are now being,' Tyrion said, watching her carefully.
'I'm sure he does,' Daenerys replied casually, though she didn't like his scrutinizing gaze. 'So…on to more important things. Casterly Rock.'
Tyrion took the hint, and did not broach on the subject of Jon Snow again.
Jon and Daenerys did not see much of either over the next few days – only in passing if ever they bumped into each other inside the castles' corridors. Jon ate separately with Davos, and spent the rest of his time spelunking in search of Dragonglass, as described in the map that Sam had sent him. Some of the tunnels in the caves were hard to reach or completely closed off, so Jon, Davos and the Dothraki whom Daenerys had provided spent the better part of two weeks mining entrances on the rocks.
During this short period of time, Jon and Daenerys slowly became accustomed to each other's ways, and although they did not particularly like each other, they were curious and acted moderately friendly towards each other on the rare occasions when their paths crossed on Dragonstone, and as time went on, they slowly began to understand each other's reasoning and sense of morality. Daenerys could see now that Jon was too clever and too loyal to surrender his kingdom to someone he did not know, just as she would not align with him for similar reasons. But they both shared a willingness to stand up for what they believed was right, no matter the odds, and it was this that encouraged Daenerys to believe that they would unite in a political alliance at some point in the near future.
She found herself deeply perplexed that, throughout the duration of his stay so far, Jon hadn't tried in any way to impress her. He was so very different from Drogo and Dario and every other man she had encountered. He did not try to flatter or charm Daenerys; instead he treated her like an equal and he was humble, a trait she was not familiar with herself, and one which she certainly didn't expect in a man trying to form a political alliance. It was Ser Davos and Tyrion who informed her of Jon's complicated past and background, at her request, and she was bewildered as to why Jon wouldn't boast of his commendable achievements, even if Ser Davos was somewhat vague about some of the details. It made her almost embarrassed after the fuss she had made about her own sufferings and titles during their first meeting in the audience chamber. It was obvious from Ser Davos's tales that Jon had little care or patience for the game of thrones; he saw power as a burden and a duty, and he had taken on his role not because he'd wanted it, but because he'd known his people needed him. Daenerys had never encountered a ruler like Jon Snow…one who cared more about his people than himself. It fascinated her.
In time, this fascination grew too strong for her to repress, and so it was trepidation and curiosity that Daenerys paid Jon a visit in his bed chamber one evening after he had returned from another exhausting day mining through the cave entrances down by the shore. Jon had only just removed his cloak and flung it onto his bed when Daenerys emerged quietly in his open doorway; he jumped in fright when he turned to see her stood there.
'Your Grace,' Jon said breathlessly, alarmed by her sudden appearance.
'Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you,' Daenerys said at once, only just managing to suppress a laugh at his reaction. 'I realised earlier that I've not yet come here myself to check whether you are comfortable here, so I thought…' She trailed off, not sure how to finish off her poor excuse for her journey over to this part of this castle.
'We've been well-attended. Davos and I are very content in these rooms,' Jon reassured her. 'Your hospitality has been…very generous.'
'I'm glad to hear it.'
There was a pause.
'Is there anything I can do for you, Your Grace?' Jon asked, bemused.
Daenerys lowered her eyes awkwardly. 'You don't need to…call me that all the time, you know.'
Jon tilted his head in surprise. 'As you wish.'
'I…I just wanted to ask how progress was on your expedition into the caves,' Daenerys said, making sure not to step forward into the room; that would be improper, after all.
'Progress is good, thank you. We've found the Dragonglass…and we've located the best spots to start mining,' Jon replied, and he glanced at her hopefully. 'I'd like to show you, if I may. Before my men and I start on the work.'
Daenerys considered him for a moment and raised her eyebrows. 'If you think it would be a good use of my time,' she said, trying to maintain a casual tone.
Jon nodded slowly. 'I think it would help us both see more…eye to eye, yes.'
'Then I will join you tomorrow.'
'Very well, Your Grace. I appreciate it,' Jon said, smiling at her; his face faltered when he realised that she was making no indication to leave. 'Was there something else?'
He wasn't sure whether to invite her in or not, but then thought against it; after all, it would be highly inappropriate. It confused him as to why she was still stood in the doorway – she hadn't indicated much interest in keeping his company over the past two weeks.
'You were Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, before you returned to Winterfell,' Daenerys said, watching him thoughtfully.
Jon looked confused. 'I was.'
'May I ask…how you achieved that position?' Daenerys asked, interested. 'Tyrion tells me you started out as merely a steward, and…well, you're so young.'
'I could ask exactly the same thing of you,' Jon said, before he'd had time to think of a response.
Daenerys gave him a questioning look.
'Isn't it true you started out as nothing, only to gain enough power to conquer and maintain peace in Slaver's Bay? You became ruler of Mereen,' Jon pointed out.
'I did,' Daenerys replied. 'But I had three dragons to help me with that. You had none.'
Jon raised his eyebrows at her, amused. 'I don't think it was just your dragons that got you where you were. Impressive as they are,' he added.
A hint of a smile appeared on Daenerys' face, but before she had time to respond, Ser Davos appeared beside her. He was looking at Daenerys in bewilderment. What on earth was she doing here?
'Err…pardon me,' Davos said unsurely, completely perplexed, and he glanced at Jon. 'I can…return later.'
'No, please – do not leave on my account,' Daenerys said, tearing her eyes off Jon to address Davos, and she took a step back. 'I must return to my chambers anyway. Have you both been fed?'
'Missandei has made arrangements for our supper this evening,' Jon replied appreciatively, and he smiled at her. 'Thank you.'
'I will…see you tomorrow morning at the caves, then,' Daenerys said, giving him a brief nod, and Davos gave Jon another startled look.
'Tomorrow morning, Your Grace.'
Davos watched as the two people gazed at each other for a moment longer than necessary, and he couldn't help feeling like it was wrong for him to be here…like he was intruding on something private. Swallowing slightly and folding her hands together, Daenerys then departed. The two dazed men listened to her footsteps echoing down the corridor as she walked away; once she was out of earshot, Davos turned to raise his eyebrows questioningly at Jon, but Jon said nothing and became suddenly very fascinated in brushing down his cloak.
Davis looked down with a frown, thinking deeply about this new…complication. Jon could deny it all he wanted and pretend that everything was as it was meant to be, but Davos knew differently. There was no denying the look that had passed between Jon and Daenerys as she had left.
