AFTER THE FIRST MEETING

Upon crossing the threshold to Winterfell, Sansa and Jon had presented Daenerys and Tyrion with bread and salt to welcome them. Sansa had offered them rooms and baths before inviting them to dinner. Jon checked in with his men, giving orders as need-be, then slipped out to the Godswood, hoping to find his direwolf.

He found Ghost standing next to a woman with hair almost as white as his. Daenerys wasn't touching Ghost, but neither was she afraid. She wore a white gown now, red leaves falling around her to rest on the silver-white snow. Jon didn't know if he'd ever seen anything so beautiful.

"This is a heart tree?" she asked, gesturing to the tree and its watchful face.

"Aye. A weirwood," he added. "They say the Old Gods watch over us through the heart tree of every Godswood."

"And do you know this creature?"

"His name is Ghost. He's a direwolf: giant, ancient wolves from the north."

"Isn't this The North?"

"Farther north. Direwolves mostly only exist north of The Wall, like mammoths and…" he fell silent.

"…And?"

"Giants, but I believe we've lost the last of them," he said, sadly. "Do you know what I mean by mammoths and giants? Do they tell stories of them across the sea?"

"I was raised on stories of Westeros, raised to return to my kingdom. Now that I have, what would you ask of me, John Stark?"

"Ask of you?"

"When I meet rulers, some tell me they will fight me and conquer me. Some surrender. Yara Greyjoy offered me 100 ships with men to sail them in exchange for us supporting her claim to the throne of the Iron Isles. Her brother asked for the Isles, quite politely. And some offer marriage. What do you request? What do you offer?"

"I cannot give you The North. They declared me their king; I belong to them. They do not belong to me. I do not wish to fight you; mankind fighting mankind is madness. Winter has come and the White Walkers are coming. We must all fight together, life versus death, if we are to survive."

Daenerys raised her eyebrows in surprise. Tyrion had told her that the Starks were a serious, earnest and honorable lot, and that Ned Stark had perhaps been the most honorable man he'd ever known. Tyrion said Jon seemed a lot like his father, though gloomier. The description seemed quite apt to Daenerys. Then the direwolf licked his face.

"Ugh, boy," the King of the North exclaimed, laughing and shoving the pony-sized wolf. He swiped the moisture from his face and laughed, "Get off!" He rustled the wolf's fur, and the wolf rubbed his head against Jon's shoulder, then trotted away.

Daenerys liked this man. She had vowed to make a better place, and she believed he would help her do so. He was strong, handsome and kind. She thought a moment, made a decision and nodded.

"Please, come," Daenerys asked, taking his arm. They walked to a clearing. "RHEAGAL!" she called. She felt Rheagal's temperament best suited to Jon's. Soon, she could hear the beat of his wings. Then the metallic-green dragon was circling overhead and managed to land in the clearing. She was beatific, gazing in to the creature's eyes. The creature whipped its head around suddenly to examine Jon. Jon did not move. Daenyrs gave a sharp warning to the creature, which sniffed Jon, and then nudged his shoulder, just as Ghost had done, but with enough strength that Jon stumbled. Jon found, without thinking about it, that he was stroking the dragon. The scales themselves were cool, but heat seeped from beneath and between them. The scales looked rough, but felt as smooth as polished opals. Jon was not scared of the dragon, nor did he lust to possess it. He admired the dragon, and Rheagal seemed to admire him.

"Rheagal, fly!" Daenerys proclaimed, and he flew away on leathery wings. She returned her attention to the king at her side. "My advisor, Tyrion, thinks I should marry you. I agree. You would be King in the North and I would be Queen in the South. The North would one of my Seven Kingdoms, and you would rule it as King, as would your heirs. I'm told I will not have children until the seas run dry, the mountains blow in the wind, and the sun rises in the West and sets in the East, but you could father heirs from any woman or women of your choosing. I believe my dragons will choose my successor. Do you accept my proposal?"

A mocking voice called out from Jon's memory: "You know nothing, Jon Snow!"