Chapter Two

Jon escorted Daenerys to her quarters in the Guest House. His heart was beating faster than usual, knowing that he would face the queen's wrath the moment they were alone together. He didn't know why Sansa had behaved the way she had, but it was obvious that Daenerys was livid, and he didn't know how he was going to quell her anger.

The instant Jon closed the chamber door behind them, Daenerys swung around to glare at him, her bright eyes alight with fire. "Do you want to tell me again how devoted and loyal your little sister is? How she will support our alliance and whatever decisions we make together about the future of the Seven Kingdoms? How she will gladly accept me as her new queen?"

Jon stepped forward, his arms outstretched, hoping to pull Daenerys into his embrace. "Now, calm down—"

"Don't tell me to calm down," she said, stepping back, staying just beyond his reach. "The northern lords respect your sister. From what I've heard, they follow her as much as they follow you. We cannot have her openly defying me in front of them. She'll ruin everything if she continues trying to undermine us."

"She is not trying to undermine us."

"Yes, she is. She told everyone that your decision to bend the knee was misinformed. She obviously thinks she can change your mind once you're alone together."

"That isn't going to happen. I have made my choice. I will not be swayed." Jon moved closer. This time, Daenerys stayed just where she was. He reached out for her, wrapping his hands around her upper arms, holding her close. "Daenerys, listen to me," he said in a calm, soothing voice. "My sister has been through hell. She is not a very trusting soul, nor should she be after everything she has endured. She just needs time to come around. That's all."

Daenerys shook her head but made no attempt to pull away. "No. She will never come around. She's already made up her mind. Otherwise, she would not have orchestrated such a public display of defiance. She knows what she is doing, and she chose every one of her words carefully."

"You didn't trust me when we first met, and now look at us." Jon couldn't help but smile. There was something about Daenerys Targaryen that set his blood on fire. Making love to her had been a revelation, and even now, as they stood there arguing, all he wanted to do was take her to bed again, if only she'd let him.

"You cannot charm me with a smile, Jon Snow. Your sister is our enemy, and you need to admit that."

"She is not the enemy."

"Yes, she is. Anyone who is against us is the enemy."

"But she's not against us. She's devoted to me and to the north. Once I've had a chance to talk to her, to explain my decision, she will follow gladly."

"Jon," Daenerys began, her tone finally softening, "I know how much you care for the girl, but you can't be blinded by your feelings. She is dangerous. From what I hear, she has learned a great deal from Cersei Lannister. She knows how to play the game, and we must be on our guard."

"I'll admit, she's a great deal shrewder than she was before she left for King's Landing, but she is still just a girl. And the only thing she is more devoted to than her family is the north. She will follow us. Both of us. I promise you."

"And if you are wrong?"

"I'm not wrong. Just trust me." Jon reached for a stray lock of Daenerys' hair that had fallen out of place. He tucked it behind her ear and then gently caressed her cheek.

She sighed, the sound half frustration, half contentment. "I want to trust you, Jon. I do. But with things as bad as they are right now, I can't afford to take any chances. Viserion is gone, and your brother claims—"

"I know what my brother claims."

"I refuse to believe it until I see it," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

Jon didn't want to point out that the last time she had doubted what her eyes could not see, she'd been wrong. He hoped – no, he prayed – that Bran's vision was wrong, that the Wall still stood, and Viserion had not been resurrected by the Night King. He prayed for it, even though, in his heart, he knew it to be untrue. But he couldn't tell Daenerys that. She was suffering enough, and he didn't want to make matters worse. "I'm sure we will know the truth soon enough," Jon said, not knowing what else he could say.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Jon Snow."

"Well, let's hope we never find out."

Jon closed the space between them and kissed her deeply, his cock pulsing to life with urgent need. His fingers slid to the clasp holding her cloak together. He unhooked the latch, and the heavy garment slid down her shoulders to the floor. He pulled Daenerys flush against him, the heat from her body fueling his desire as his hands moved to divest her of her gown. But she suddenly broke the kiss.

"Aren't you supposed to be meeting with your dear sister right now? Isn't that what she commanded?"

"I don't take commands from anyone. You know that."

A sly smile spread across her supple lips. "I am your queen. You are sworn to take commands from me."

"Am I? We are in the north now, Your Grace, and here I am king. Or had you forgotten?"

"But the north is one of my kingdoms, Jon Snow, which means you must still bend the knee to me, even here."

Jon laughed, his eyes trailing down the length of her. When he met her gaze again, he said, "I'll only bend the knee if I want to, not because you command it." Then, slowly, he undid the ties of her gown and watched as it slid down her lithe body, pooling in a puddle at her feet, leaving her naked. Jon knelt down before her and leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss against her stomach.

Daenerys inhaled a sharp breath, and Jon couldn't help but grin. He moved lower, kissing her softly as he made his way toward the nest of white-gold curls between her thighs. He could feel Daenerys holding her breath as she waited for him to make contact with her sex. Jon continued to kiss her chastely but did not torture her for long. Without warning, he kissed her low between her legs, sliding his tongue along the length of her.

Daenerys gasped. Her hands reached for his hair, pulling him closer as he explored her depths with his mouth. They had not made love since their ship had docked in White Harbor, and he was desperate to drink her in.

"Jon," she whispered his name, her voice full of pleading, not command. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and he couldn't deny her anything.

Jon pulled away then, standing in an instant. He swept Daenerys up into his arms and carried her to the large bed in the center of the room. There was no time for him to undress. Their need was too urgent. He laid Daenerys down on the mattress and then climbed on top of her, holding himself above her just long enough to stare down into her eyes.

"Jon, I need you. Now."

That was all he needed to hear. He leaned forward, kissing her passionately as her fingers found the ties of his breeches. She quickly freed his pulsing flesh, stroking him gently as she guided him toward her entrance.

Jon didn't even try to resist. The instant she moved her hand away, he thrust inside her, reveling in the feel of their bodies becoming one. Although he had loved Ygritte with all his heart, there was something about Daenerys that made him feel as if their relationship had been destined by the gods. She completed him. When they were together, he finally felt whole, and never more so than when they lay together as one flesh. Jon knew Daenerys Targaryen held the key to his future, and whether that ended in glory or tragedy, he didn't care. All he knew was that she was his destiny and he would gladly allow her to burn him with her fire.

Their passion exploded quickly, and soon Daenerys was calling out his name as she reached the heights of ecstasy. Jon instantly followed, crashing over the edge with startling intensity.

Jon lay still against Daenerys' breast, his heart pounding against his ribcage, his brow covered in sweat. When he finally had the strength to move, he opened his eyes and pulled back so that he could look down at the goddess lying beneath him. He stared into her vibrant eyes, overcome by her beauty.

"I love you," he whispered before he could stop himself. "I love you."

Daenerys reached up and gently caressed his cheek. "And I love you," she replied softly.

The hint of a smile pulled at Jon's lips. He'd never imagined hearing such words from the woman beneath him. But he knew she meant them. He could feel it in the pulsing of his own heart.

Jon leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, and Daenerys wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. They kissed for what seemed like ages, until Daenerys finally broke away.

"You should go," she said, the words a breathy whisper against his lips.

"Go? Go where?"

"To attend the dictates of the lady of the keep. You've dallied here too long. If you don't go soon, she might break down that door herself, and I don't think either one of us is ready for the world to know about this yet."

Although Jon wanted to argue with her, he knew he couldn't. Daenerys was right. They had to keep their love a secret for now. It would not do to have his loyalties questioned by his northern brethren. He would have to be more careful as long as they stayed in Winterfell.

"You know I don't want to go," Jon said.

"I know."

He kissed her again, then reluctantly untangled himself from her limbs and climbed off the bed. He didn't look at her as he put himself to rights, afraid that if he did, he'd never be able to leave. Once he knew that the danger had passed, he looked at Daenerys again. She was sitting up in bed, her pale skin beckoning to him, despite his resolve.

"You must go, Jon Snow. Before it is too late," she said with a knowing smile.

Jon couldn't bear to look at her another moment. He turned around and headed toward the door. He needed to see Sansa before she came looking for him. There would be time for pleasure again later, but for now, duty called, and Jon had no choice but to answer.