Yeah I decided to add another chapter to this. I'm not great with smut and it's not something I like to go out of my way to write but the idea came to me and I thought it was a great way to tell more of the story about Jon and Dany's relationship. Basically I always assumed Dany would take the initiative with Jon as she is the 'dragon' and Jon isn't really that smooth with the ladies, but this chapter is about Daenerys noticing that Jon isn't quite right after returning from death and encouraging her wolf to exercise his aggression in a way that benefits them both. Once again thank you very much to the lovely people reading and leaving such kind reviews, you have no idea how much your kind words mean to me!

She's more experienced in the bedroom than he is.

It doesn't surprise her, although it should. He's comely, more appealing than even Khal Drogo and Daario. Tormund Giantsbane routinely mocks him as 'the pretty crow' and she notices how the women in the camp let their glances linger a moment too long on his beautiful scarred face. She tells herself it is foolish to be jealous. She is the blood of the dragon. Dragons envy no one. But Daenerys is still just a girl, a young girl with a heavy crown on her head and a fiery lust for the beautiful King in the North.

He is very respectful. Men usually find it hard to hide their lust for her, if they even bother to try and hide it at all. The crown and her children frighten them but their cocks are their downfall; they'll drop their gaze lower, and she can see the thoughts they are having as plain as she can see her own hands. The silver queen is beautiful. But Jon Snow does not look at her breasts, or lick his lips. He looks her straight in the eye always whenever he addresses her, with an intensity that makes her feel as if she is the only person in the world. Even after the ice between them breaks and they seek out each other's company for reasons other than to discuss battle and politics, he always looks her in the eye when they speak.

She knows she cannot wait until their wedding night.

Their first night together is an awakening. Noble Jon had been hesitant, not wishing to besmirch her honour. Dany's heart melted; even when she was bare before him, his lust apparent underneath her hand, he was still a gentleman. Of course it made no real difference whether or not they waited. Dany had been married twice, to her sun and stars and Hizdar zo Loraq, had enjoyed the pleasure of Daario Naharis, had already felt a life stir in her belly. Jon Snow would not be claiming her maidenhead, but he would be claiming her.

Dany was more experienced and much more confident, a million miles away from the frightened girl who had hesitantly lay with Khal Drogo. She had took what she wanted from the King in the North, riding him with a dragon's fire throughout the night, tasting the salt of his skin beneath her tongue, twining her fingers in his thick curls as he delivered what he fondly called 'The Lord's Kiss.'

(She loved the feeling of him inside her, but the Lord's Kiss was something else entirely, something which made her vision turn to white and her knees shake and her heart to nearly burst from her chest).

There was more to lovemaking with Jon, something she could never quite explain. It was somewhere in the intensity of his gaze, those faithful eyes that had never undressed her before his own hands. There was fire between them, an all-consuming flame that ignited and coiled in her belly whenever her purple eyes met his. Dany had experienced sexual pleasure, had come to greatly enjoy it. Laying with her sun and stars, though not initially pleasant, had grown beautiful, Irri had pleasured her the best she could and Daario had made her legs shake and her fears temporarily slip away. But nothing compared to Jon.


Despite enjoying riding Jon in the bedroom almost as much as she enjoyed riding Drogon through the air, Daenerys secretly craved something more.

Although Jon was not overtly experienced- he had only lay with his wildling bride Ygritte and now Dany- the women he had shared his bed with had a particular taste. He had told her everything about his past with Ygritte as she had told him about Drogo; how she had been kissed by fire, how she had been feisty and rough and demanding when it came to his affections. He joked that he had had to learn quickly how to keep up with her, to give as good as he got. And the thoughts and desires further swam in Dany's mind.

There was a darkness to her wolf that she could sense, something which she assumed had happened after his return from the grave. He had been touched by the darkness before the red priestess had brought him back, and the continuous battles he had faced in his life- Lady Catelyn's scorn, the harsh way of life at the Wall, the battle with the wildlings and Hardhome and the battle for Winterfell and being murdered by his own brothers-had created something dark, something dangerous deep within him. Daenerys knew Jon would never hurt her. He was a good man, a caring lover, a compassionate leader. It was one of the many reasons she loved him fiercely and would bathe anyone who would dare hurt him again in dragonfire.

But she wanted that darkness. She wanted her wolf to snarl and take her rough, to growl and say that she was his and tear anyone who would come between them apart.

At first she had been reluctant to say anything. Their lovemaking certainly wasn't lacking, and wasn't it strange to want that of a man so loving and considerate? But Dany had lived with the Dothraki and experienced enough to know that there were different means of pleasure: the Dothraki mounted their women like a dog mounted a bitch, the wildings Jon had brought to Winterfell were open and free with their lust. Doreah had educated her plenty all those years ago when she had first wed and even Daario had shown her the ways of wanting and demanding and giving in the bedroom.

She was the blood of the dragon, she knew that. She was confident in who she was; but she also wanted her wolf too.


"I never realised you liked the godswood so much," Jon said, his hand wrapped around hers as she pulled him further through the trees.

"It's one of my favourite things about Winterfell," she replied. It was true; Winterfell itself was cold and strange and foreign to her, who had spent most of her life in heat. But there was something about the godswood which attracted her, something tranquil and calm. Tyrion said he found the heart tree unsettling. She found out entrancing. "Drogon likes it too," she continued, stopping amidst a thick clearing of trees and moving closer to her wolf. "Sometimes I find him here sleeping. He likes the pool by the heart tree."

Jon bit his lip as she began to unlace his breeches. "You want us to do this outside? We'll freeze."

He ran his hands underneath her cloak across her hot skin. "We'll find ways to keep warm," she grinned, letting out a moan as his hands travelled across her bodies. "Besides," she said, finding it hard to speak with the conviction of a queen when he began kissing her neck. "I want you to do something for me."

"Anything for you, my queen," he teased. She gasped as she felt his tongue across her jaw.

"Hunt me."

He stilled and she worried she had frightened him. He pulled back slightly and looked at her. "What do you mean?"

For a moment she was a timid little girl again, before she told herself off for being a foolish. She was the blood of the dragon and Jon was her wolf, hers, and she could never frighten him away.

"I've seen the darkness in your eyes Jon," she whispered, her hands already in his hair. "I see it and it doesn't scare me. Do you want to know what it does to me?" She guided his hands down underneath her dress and gasped as his cold flesh met her hot skin.

He was panting ever so slightly, his nose trailing along her neck as if he was sniffing her scent. "You don't…you don't understand Daenerys. It…it scares me. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she assured him. "I trust you Jon. I want you to make me yours."

(Of course she trusted him. Jon knew if anything ever happened to her, Drogon would eat him. He joked about it often enough).

He knew she wasn't talking about marriage when she said that. Jon Snow, the girl-shy bastard of Winterfell, couldn't suppress the growl that escaped his lips at her words, his teeth grazing her neck. A dragon caught in the jaws of a wolf and all she could do was moan.

"So you want me to hunt you," he said, and she was glad to hear the playful tone in his voice. It was nice to know the King in the North wasn't always so solemn and serious, that only she could bring out this side to him as he had brought out so much in her. "And then what? Will you be my prey Daenerys? Am I to take the spoils of my prize once I catch you?"

She shivered, tilting her head to whisper into his ear. "I want you to take me, my wolf."

Jon growled again, louder. It sent her weak at the knees and lust coiled in her belly so hot she feared she would peak right then and there.

"If my queen wants," he said slowly, pulling back reluctantly to look at her again with those intense dark eyes. "You have till the count of fifty to run, and after that…I'll come for you."

She smirked playfully, ecstatic that he had caught on so well to this game. She wasted no time in running, glad to have chosen boots equipped for the snowy wilderness of the godswood as she raced into the trees, her heart racing and her legs quivering in excitement. She tried to keep count with him as she ran, blindly zig-zagging through the trees and taking care not to fall in the snow but all she could think about was the pulse between her legs and the hungry look in his eyes. Eventually her breath grew short and she flung herself behind a tree. She strained to hear his footsteps but all she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her ears.

It seemed like forever that she hid behind that tree but the wait made it all the more delicious. Finally she heard him, his steady footsteps sounding not too far from her and she grinned silently and tried to stay quiet and wondered if he would find her or if she would have to lead him on a chase and-oh. She was a fool. She looked down at the ground and quickly realised that she had left footprints in the snow.

"Got you."

She gasped as his hands wrapped around her firmly from behind, tugging her to him roughly as he buried his face again her neck. She squirmed for the feel of it, his strong arms holding her possessively like a wolf that had caught his prey.

"Oh no," she gasped, greatly enjoying this game. "Whatever will my wolf do with me now?"

Jon growled and then she was against the tree, the rough bark digging into her skin as he bit and licked and sucked at her neck, his hands wrenching her cloak from her shoulders and tearing at her dress and she moaned, reaching back to pull at his hair as he marked her skin for the world to see. He was rough and sure and Dany had never felt pleasure like it as their clothes were shredded and he entered her; she was his, just as he was hers, and oh how she'd never felt pleasure like this, how Jon Snow made her feel like no ever person ever could, how she was so warm and safe in his arms despite the harsh winter surrounding them and even when her wolf was claiming her he never truly hurt her… She loved him, loved him so much with all her heart that she was burning…for the first time in her life Daenerys Targaryen was burning…

They peaked together quickly, with an intensity that made her vision go white and her legs buckle underneath her. She was so lost in her haze that she barely registered Jon slowly regaining himself, wrapping her thick cloak around her again and pulling her onto his lap as he sat against the tree, pressing soft kisses all over her face.

"Did I hurt you?" he breathed.

Dany smiled. Her sweet, caring, strong wolf. She turned and buried her head in his neck, surrounded by his scent. "No," she said. "It will take more than that to harm a dragon."

He laughed, his body enveloping hers in a strong, safe grip. He wasn't shaking despite the cold; perhaps the warmth of her skin kept him comfortable. Perhaps his legs were still boneless like hers.

"I don't ever want to leave this godswood," he said. She smiled, kissing him. Neither did she, but they had to return at some point. She was a Queen and he was a King and they had a kingdom to save, a world to fight for and people to help. Eventually she sighed, standing up slowly and pulling on her clothes.

(He'd ripped her dress in his eagerness; she would have to ask Missandei to help sew it again).

"Marry me."

She turned to face him as she pulled on her cloak; he was already re-dressed, his eyes once again looking straight into hers.

"I'm already marrying you," she answered.

Jon shook his head. "I don't want to marry you in a sept in King's Landing after the war. I want to marry you right here, right now. I want to take you as my wife in front of the old gods and show the world you're mine as soon as I can."

She said nothing, smiling silently as she wrapped her arms around him. Why shouldn't she marry him straight away? It's not as if she cared a great deal about marrying in a sept of the Seven; the seven gods of Westeros had never answered her prayers and her brother Viserys had told her once that the Targaryens, like their dragons, answered neither to gods nor men. The Faith didn't mean a great deal to her as nothing more than something her people recognised. And she didn't want to wait until the war was over. For all she knew they might not make it until the end of the war. Cersei Lannister ruled King's Landing under a crazed fist that rivalled her father's and would stop at nothing until the King in the North and the Dragon Queen were dead. An army of white walkers marched on the Wall; any day they could break through and only her dragons and Jon's Valyrian steel could stop them. A marriage alliance with Jon was the wisest choice politically, but Dany knew know she wasn't marrying him for politics. She was marrying him for love.

One to bed, one to dread and one to love.

"Okay," she said. "Let's marry tomorrow. In the godswood, under the heart tree with your people and mine."

He kissed her. Daenerys knew her third marriage of the wolf and the dragon, the pact of ice and fire, would be her happiest and her last.