It had been a stupid idea to follow him, she knew that now. But she couldn't stop herself. Shireen had seen Aegon slip through the door, leading to below the keep. She hadn't thought much of following him, only knowing that his actions looked suspicious. He had not gone to the dungeons, instead going down a long corridor where the ancient dragon skulls lay. Shireen had stayed in the shadows, overhearing as he met with an unidentified man.

She had stayed quiet, listening as Aegon made the deal: a million gold dragons for Shireen's death. The man had only nodded, before saying it would be done as soon as payment was received. When the man disappeared in to the dark, Shireen had turned intending to find a member of her Queensguard, but in her haste she had tripped, alerting Aegon to her presence. He attacked her immediately.

I'm going to die.

The thought came to her in a small moment of clarity, before her mind went out of focus again. She shifted, pulling the knife from her pocket, flipping it open as a hand reached around her waist. With out thinking she stabbed at it, before turning to push it cleanly in to the neck of her opponent, before pulling it sideways, creating a huge gash.

Aegon's purple eyes shot up in surprise, as he lifted his hand to the cut, vaguely attempting to stem the gush of blood. He fell to his knees, then flat on his stomach.

Shireen turned, vomiting barely able to hold her hair out of the way, dropping the bloody knife in the process. She heard shouting, hands grabbed at her. She whirled around in panic, searching for the knife but was met with grey eyes.

Jon was saying her name as she collapsed, fainting.

When she woke up, sometime later she was in her own bed. She felt sore all over. She groggily sitting up, wanting water for her parched mouth. Jon shot up from where he had been sitting by the side of the bed, assisting in giving her the cup.

"Is he dead?" She asked, her voice dull and inflectionless.

Jon only nodded. She nodded back at him, before falling back on to the bed in a dreamless slumber.

The next morning she attended the small council meeting. Jon sat by her side, holding her hand under the table as she told them what had happened. The small council remained silent as she told the tale, briefly going into some detail about the fight that had ensued. When she was finished she sat quietly, letting the small council talk around her, not noticing that Jon didn't speak either.

In fact, it took her several days to notice that Jon was not himself. He barely spoke to her, or even looked at her. The only time he really addressed her at all was at night, when she would wake from her nightmares. He would hold her close, telling her over and over again that he was there, that she was safe, that he would never let anyone hurt her.

After several weeks, the nightmares began to fade, but Jon's distance did not. Finally, one night as they were getting ready for bed in silence, she spoke what she had been unable to say.

"I am sorry for killing your brother," she said to his back. He froze where he stood, not turning to look at her. "I know you can never forgive me, but I want you to know I am sorry all the same."

He turned then, staring at her, his mouth hanging open slightly. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, despair settling in around her as she told herself for the thousandth time that he would never truly be hers.

"I don't care about him," Jon finally said, his voice low, anger simmering just below the surface. "I care about you."

"But-" she started, before stopping gesturing her hands in futile attempt to ask why he had been so distant if it had not been for love of a now dead brother. He took a step forward, anger now radiating out from him, his fist clenching and unclenching.

"You could have been hurt," he yelled, towering over her. She had never seen him lose his temper before, for the first time understanding his Targaryen side. "You could have been killed."

"But I wasn't," she said, stepping back.

"You never should have gone after him. You knew he was not to be trusted."

"I had to know what he was doing," she whispered. "I had no other option but to follow him."

He didn't seem to hear her though, continuing on his rant, letting weeks of frustration finally free.

"I can't believe you thought you could take him on by yourself. Are you crazy? You must be. I can't believe you didn't think to call for one of the Queensguard! I can't believe I've fallen in a love with such a reckless woman! What would Westeros have done without you? How do you think the planet would have survived!"

She stopped listening, her head suddenly buzzing.

"I can't believe I've fallen in a love with such a reckless woman!"

She pinched her arm, she didn't wake up. He had actually said he loved her. She shook her head, trying to focus, trying to wrap her head around it.

"Shireen. Shireen!" Jon yelled, moving to place his hands on her shoulders, shaking her slightly, bringing her out of her trance. "Are you even listening to me?"

"You love me?" She asked, unable to say anything else.

His hands dropped from her shoulders, taking a step back. She didn't know it was possible, but he somehow looked angrier.

"Of course, I love you," he spat. "How could I not?"

"Because-" she started, her hand involuntarily moving to her scar.

She watched as all the anger left his body. He stepped forward, his hand moving to cover her own where it lay against the scar. His other hand around her waist, pulling her to him. She tilted her head back, keeping his gaze.

"I love you, Shireen," he said sincerely. "I love you."

"I don't think anyone has ever loved me," she whispered, ashamed.

"I love you," he repeated, placing kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheek. "I love you."

Then he went about convincing her that he loved her. He worshipped her body, whispering admirations against her skin; leaving her in no doubt about his affections.

Hours later, when Shireen was convinced of his love, as they both lay staring at each other; she confessed.

"I've always loved you."