Based on events between Episode 6 and 7 of GoT Season 7

Daenerys strangely enjoyed being out at sea. It meant that she had more time to herself, for there was little she could do that would be productive to her cause while travelling. It meant that she could allow herself time alone in her cabin to grieve Viserion. It also meant that she could spend more time with Jon in an informal capacity.

Once Tyrion, Missandei and Varys had joined them on board, the ship set sail for King's Landing, a long trip during which Daenerys looked forward to growing even closer to Jon, whom she now knew reciprocated her affection. He seemed to have completely changed his attitude about her; he had seen her come to his aid when he needed it the most, he had seen her sacrifice one of her own dragons to save him and the mission, he had seen her be truly selfless and think beyond her own entitlement to the Iron Throne…he now knew the level she was willing to go to in order to help people. And Daenerys could see the same in Jon; he had helped her and the raiding party escape the White Walkers at the expense of his own life. And the stab wounds. Those horrific stab wounds that Daenerys still had yet to ask him about. He would do anything he could to save the people of Westeros, and not boast about it once.

This wasn't just lust between them, both of them knew that; it was about trust and respect. It was about their shared politics and integrity. It was about how one was willing to give something up for the other. It was about how they could be emotionally vulnerable to each other and be true to themselves. It was about how they were drawn to each other in a way that even they didn't understand. All this led Jon and Daenerys to the realisation that they were stronger together than they were apart…and this fact only became more apparent as they spent longer each day in each other's company on the quiet ship.

Indeed, Jon was often eager to find time alone with Daenerys, away from the others' prying eyes…something that did not go unnoticed by their advisors.

'I'm not sure how much longer that wight will last in that crate…' Tyrion was saying as the men assembled on the upper deck one chilly evening.

'It will last. I'm sure of it,' Jon said firmly. 'And I'm sure Daener- sorry, Queen Daenerys, would rather us discuss the more important matter of what we're actually going to say when we get there to King's Landing. We've got the proof – now we need to persuade the enemy to join us.'

It wasn't long after when Jon departed to find Daenerys in the lower decks of the ship. The moment he was out of earshot, Tyrion leaned forward to Lord Varys with a concerned frown on his face.

'Did you hear that?' he said agitatedly. 'He was about to call her Daenerys.'

Varys looked at him in mock horror. 'Well we should chop off his head at once.'

Tyrion rolled his eyes; Varys may disagree that there was something to worry about, but Tyrion couldn't help it. He saw the stolen looks and touches and secret smiles passed between Jon and Daenerys. It was only a matter of time before they gave into their longing for each other. And then that would only worsen matters. They were falling in love with each other, he could see it happening through his very eyes, and falling in love was not the wisest thing to do in the midst of war. It meant they had more to lose.

Jon found Daenerys alone in the captain's office, which had been turned into a study for the two of them and their advisors. The cabin was lit only by candles, and Daenerys was sat on an armchair close to the desk in the centre of the room. Jon tapped on the door and leant against it as he entered; they smiled at each other in greeting.

'I didn't see you at dinner,' Jon said.

'I…wasn't hungry,' Daenerys replied absently, and she looked up at him. 'Will you have a drink with me?'

Jon hesitated, his heart racing ahead, and nodded. 'I'd like that very much.'

Daenerys rose from her seat and crossed over to the desk to pour them both a glass of wine. When she handed him her glass, they both sat down on the two cosy chairs, as equals.

'Jon, may I ask you a personal question?'

Jon smiled; he liked that she had started addressing him by his first name ever since their intimate conversation in his cabin while he was recovering. 'Of course. Anything.'

'Have you ever been married?' she asked, and Jon nearly choked on his wine; he had not been expecting that.

'M-married? Me? No. No, no,' he replied, avoiding her gaze.

Daenerys tilted her head at him. 'But there was someone.'

Jon looked up at her; there was a slight smirk on her face. 'What gave it away?'

'Your eyes,' she replied simply.

He gazed at her for a moment, and then sighed in defeat. 'Yes, there was someone,' he admitted. 'A Wildling girl. Her name was Ygritte. She had red hair. She was…quite a character. But it didn't end well.'

'What happened, may I ask?'

'She was killed. At the battle at Castle Black,' Jon replied heavily.

'Did you love her?' Daenerys asked. She didn't sound bitter or jealous in any way; merely curious to get to know him more.

'I did,' Jon answered truthfully; he had to be honest with her. 'She was my first.'

There was a comfortable silence as they both thought deeply and sipped on their wine. Eventually, Daenerys spoke up about what had long been preying on her mind.

'I'm not sure if I ever truly loved my husband. Not in the way I should have done. It feels terrible to say that aloud,' Daenerys murmured, ashamed, and she gazed in wonder at Jon. 'You're the first person I've said that to. Why is that?'

'Perhaps I have a very trustworthy face,' Jon said light-heartedly, and Daenerys laughed softly.

'Please don't misunderstand, I…I did care for Drogo, very deeply,' Daenerys insisted. 'And he was good to me…in the end. But at first…he didn't know how to behave in a marriage and…well, he didn't treat me well. I forgave but…I could never quite forget.'

'Ygritte wasn't a saint, either. She liked to belittle me, often, and…well, she shot me with arrows,' Jon said, and then he laughed. 'She always used to tell me that I knew nothing.'

'Well if it's any consolation, I think she was mistaken. I think you know a great deal,' Daenerys said softly.

Jon smiled at her gratefully. 'I'm glad you feel you can talk to me,' he said, after another short silence. 'About…your husband. About anything.'

'What about you? Do you feel you can talk to me about those scars?'

Jon stared at her. Daenerys swallowed nervously but stood her ground. She hadn't brought the subject up at all until now, but she felt it was about time. She wanted to know. But only if Jon wanted her to know.

'M-my scars?' Jon said, and his voice broke slightly.

There was a pause.

'I saw,' Daenerys murmured, her eyes welling up slightly as she watched him carefully. 'The day you were brought on board, when you returned to Eastwatch. They were removing your cloak and…I saw what had been done to you. Stab wounds, they looked like. No one could survive that.'

Jon looked down heavily and sighed; eventually he looked back up at her with a hint of a sad smile on his face 'I didn't.'

And so for the next hour Jon told Daenerys everything. His entire story. How he joined the Night's Watch…his encounter with the White Walkers…his experience with the Wildlings…the massacre at Hardhome…his treacherous brothers stabbing him in the heart for allowing the Wildlings through the Wall…Melisandre's powers that had miraculously brought him back…He had never wanted to tell anyone about his traumatic journey that had led him to this point, but strangely, it felt like a relief to tell Daenerys. Like he was no longer bottling an important part of himself up. No more hiding. No more secrets. He was opening himself up to her in every way he could, and he felt happier because of it.

Daenerys was silent for a while after he had finished his tale, and did not do much other than gaze thoughtfully at him and sip her wine. She wasn't perturbed or fearful of him; she was utterly bewitched.

Jon tilted his head at her, somewhat amused by her casual response to what he had just told her. 'You don't seem too horrified by the fact that I was…resurrected,' he noted, stunned.

Daenerys smiled. 'Believe it or not, I have my fair share of experience in resurrections,' she replied, taking another swig of wine as she raised her eyebrows at him. 'Yet another thing we have in common.'

'Care to elaborate?' Jon asked, leaning forward in his chair, and Daenerys chuckled. 'This sounds like a story I want to hear.'

'Another time, I promise. But it's…it's late,' Daenerys said reluctantly as she put down her wine glass, aware that Missandei would be waiting for her. 'I should really be…going to bed.'

Jon looked towards the window in alarm. 'Oh, I'm sorry to keep you,' he said at once, leaping to his feet. 'I…I didn't even realise it had got dark outside.'

'No, don't be sorry, I…this was nice,' Daenerys said as she too rose to her feet, and it felt strange to say it. 'It's…refreshing to talk with ones' allies about something other than the impending war against the dead.'

Jon stared at her. 'An ally.' Is that all I am?

'Y-yes,' Daenerys said after a slight hesitation, and she blushed furiously; the smouldering intensity of his gaze and the half-smile on his face caught her off guard.

'I see,' Jon said, somewhat amused, and with a nod he headed towards the door. 'Well…goodnight, Daenerys. Thank you for the drink and…the company.'

'Goodnight, Jon,' Daenerys said softly, and she smiled warmly at him.

The moment he had left the study and shut the door, she sank back into her chair, clutching her hand to her chest. There had been a drastic change within her; she could feel it in her bones. Looking back on their first meeting now, Daenerys realised that she had been blinded by her own pride. She had valued the importance of ancient pledges and birthrights more than Jon's prime concern: the needs of the people and the survival of humanity. It made her ashamed just to think of that now, and she suddenly felt a rush of overwhelming gratitude for the priestess Melisandre, not only for bringing the miraculous Jon Snow back to life, but also for contriving their meeting. If she had not met Jon Snow when she had, and been so moved by his compassion, Daenerys was fearful of what she might have become without his influence. She had been so arrogant, so focussed only on herself and her power and her throne. But he had steadily changed that in her, without either of them even realising it. She could sense herself blossoming into a kinder person, the person she had once been before the trials and traumas of the past few years, and it was Jon she had to thank for that. He had humbled her down, and she had learnt a great deal from him. And he had opened up her heart in a way she hadn't even known was possible.

But, in spite of all this, she needed to be more careful around him. The more time they spent alone in each other's company in secluded corners of the ship, the more likely it was becoming that something would happen. And she couldn't allow that. She had to focus on working out how they were going to convince Cersei to help them defeat the Army of the Dead. No more distractions. She would just have to avoid being alone with Jon. How hard could that be?

It was a couple of nights before they were due to arrive at King's Landing when Jon found Daenerys in a state unlike he had ever seen her before. It was extremely late at night – long after everyone had departed for bed – but Jon had been restless and unable to sleep, so had decided to go for a wander above deck. And then he'd seen her, sat huddled in the corner, crying silently to herself.

Jon's lips parted as he gazed anxiously down at her. She was still wearing her charcoal black dress, but her hair was undone from its elaborate braids and hung loose, cascading down her shoulders; the curls blew dramatically in the cold wind. Her head was buried in her lap as she hugged her knees tightly to her. She looked so alone. So afraid. So miserable. It filled Jon with pain to see her like that.

'Daenerys, you shouldn't be out here,' Jon said quietly, 'it's far too cold.'

He smiled sadly at her as Daenerys looked up from her lap in shock. Judging from the expression on her tired, tear-streaked face, she clearly hadn't heard him emerge on the deck.

'I can cope with a bit of cold,' Daenerys muttered, turning away in embarrassment so he couldn't see her tears.

'I don't doubt it. But still,' Jon said, and he sighed heavily. 'You don't need to hide your grief from us all, you know. You said so yourself, Viserion was your child. You don't need to pretend down there and then come up here in the dead of night to mourn.'

Daenerys peered up at him from underneath her folded arms. She was awed that he understood her connection with her dragons so deeply. It had taken her advisors and the closest people to her a considerably long time to become accustomed to the fact that the dragons were to be considered as more than her mere pets. And yet Jon had seen this almost straight away.

'I'm a queen,' Daenerys said, her voice shaking slightly. 'Queens don't cry.'

Jon approached her slowly, his expression aching with sympathy. 'Queens…aren't without emotions. Queens are human,' he said earnestly. 'Just like the rest of us.'

There was then a violent gust of wind; his cloak billowed out in the night air and Daenerys gave an involuntary shudder as the cold bit at her cheeks. She smiled in spite of herself as she wiped away a stray tear.

'Jon, I appreciate your kindness but…I would rather you not see me like this,' Daenerys said, sniffling and looking back down at her lap. 'Please leave me alone.'

'What…up here in tears on the floor by yourself on a cold night?' Jon asked sceptically.

'Yes. Leave.'

'Is that a command, Your Grace?' His tone was almost playful.

Daenerys didn't answer. She didn't have to.

Jon smirked. 'Thought not.'

He looked up as it began to spot with rain. A distant rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance; a storm was coming.

'I just…can't help thinking…what if I'm nothing without my dragons?' Daenerys said in a small voice.

Her words broke Jon's heart. He had never seen her so full of self-doubt before.

'What if they are the only thing that has enabled me to get to where I am?' she went on. 'Without them, I'm…I'm…-'

'You're extraordinary,' Jon said, cutting Daenerys short; she gazed up at him, stunned, as he stepped towards her. 'Dragons or no dragons. Targaryen or not. You are…extraordinary. Don't lose faith in yourself now, Daenerys. It's what's kept you going all this time. And it's what will get you through this dark place you're in right now.'

A silence fell between them, while the wind continued to howl and the rain came down more steadily. Daenerys succumbed to more tears as she let Jon's touching words wash over her. She so desperately wanted to believe what he had just said. He certainly seemed to believe it himself. Perhaps this was enough for her now. As she cried, Jon approached her and slowly sat down on the wet decking floor beside her.

'Wh-what are you doing?' Daenerys asked, startled.

'I'm sitting down,' Jon replied simply.

She was half-mortified, half-grateful. 'You don't need to stay.'

'I know I don't,' Jon murmured. 'But I want to.'

Daenerys gazed at him for a moment, watching as his face, hair and fur cloak got wet from the rain without him even noticing, and she felt her lips tremble. Before she knew what was happening, she had rested her head on his shoulder while she continued to cry. Hesitating awkwardly, Jon then slowly reached out to put a comforting arm around her and he held her as she wept. After a few moments, Daenerys found that her sobbing had strangely halted as she relished the feeling of Jon's warm, protective arms around her; she looked up at him to meet his gaze. He didn't seem bothered by the cold water from the pouring rain that was now soaking them both. Despite his hair and cloak already being sopping wet, he was simply gazing at Daenerys sympathetically, and she knew then that he understood her completely. Despite her misery and the bitter cold temperatures of the rain and frosty air, she suddenly felt a surge of warmth flood through her. She was so glad that he was here.

'I'm sorry,' she murmured, looking back at her knees and shivering, and she was shocked to hear that her voice shook.

She hadn't said the word 'sorry' in a very, very long time.

Jon continued to gaze at her. 'Don't be,' he said quietly, and he slowly reached out to move a sopping strand of front hair out of her face.

His gentle touch both surprised and comforted Daenerys, but she was still shivering uncontrollably. She carried on staring at her knees, her cheeks blushing at the way Jon was sat intimately beside her. The tears seemed to have completely stopped now that he was here with her.

'You're freezing, aren't you?' Jon asked then, his voice still gentle.

'A little,' Daenerys replied, nodding.

'Are you ready to go inside?' he offered. 'I can ask Missandei to-'

'No. Not yet,' Daenerys interrupted quietly. 'Just…a few minutes more. Please.'

She wanted to make the most of her time here, outside beside Jon Snow where she didn't have to be Her, the all-powerful all-confident Queen, just for a bit. With Jon, she didn't have to be Her. She could be her true self…someone she had only recently been reacquainted with. And it was so peaceful.

'Of course,' Jon murmured. 'Whatever you want.'

Ever so carefully, Jon then removed his cloak, and slowly wrapped it around Daenerys to keep her warm and protected from the cold rain. One last tear escaped her as she ws overwhelmed with love for him, and she rested her head on his shoulder again as he held her close.

Gradually, the rain came to a stop, and Daenerys' shivering came to a halt. Daenerys slowly leant her head off Jon's shoulder and looked at him, her lips parting slightly as she took in his longing expression. His eyes were gazing into hers in a way that made her feel breathless. His face was close enough for her to see the raindrops dripping off the edge of his nose and beard. But then, before she had time to say or do anything, there came the sound of footsteps from the other end of the deck.

'Oh.'

Jon and Daenerys jerked apart and looked up to see Lord Varys stood there, looking amused and completely unsurprised as he gazed down at the pair huddled together in the corner. Jon hastily withdrew his arm from around Daenerys.

'I'm sorry for disturbing, Your Grace,' Varys said, though his sly voice indicated that he did not feel sorry one bit.

Flustered, Jon got up to his feet; Daenerys glanced at him irritably before doing the same.

'May we help you, Lord Varys?' she asked pointedly.

'I was merely taking a walk when I noticed err, the door to our King in the North's cabin open. I was concerned,' Varys replied casually.

Jon gave him a false smile. 'You were worried I'd jumped overboard, Lord Varys?'

Varys stared at him. 'Something like that.'

'Well, thank you for your concern. I was just…taking a walk as well myself,' Jon said, and he gestured Daenerys beside him. 'As was our Queen.'

'Yes. Although the hour is late; we should perhaps retire to bed,' Daenerys suggested to Jon, and then she blushed, mortified, and added hastily, 'In our own…separate cabins.'

Jon nodded, fighting back a smile. Varys glanced back and forth between the par, a suspicious glint in his searching eyes.

'Well…goodnight, gentlemen,' Daenerys said, with an awkward little nod.

'Goodnight, Your Grace,' Jon said, and he watched her as she walked away and disappeared to the lower decks.

The moment she had gone, Varys tilted his head appraisingly at Jon. 'Tread very carefully with that one, Jon Snow,' he said warningly. 'This is the Mother of Dragons you're playing with. She won't take it well if you break her heart.'

'I don't intend in doing any such thing,' Jon said firmly.

Varys seemed almost amused by his comment. 'That means nothing. Just be sure of what you're doing,' he said, and with that he began to walk away. 'Sleep well, Jon Snow.'

But Jon did not sleep well; he lay in bed awake all night, tossing and turning, his thoughts plagued by Daenerys and White Walkers and the sound of Viserion's fatal screams as he tumbled to the ice. It took him an enormous amount of effort to force himself out of the cabin for their daily meeting the next morning, however his exhaustion was soon forgotten about when he entered the study and caught sight of Daenerys stood there, surrounded by her advisors, her eyes only for him. After exchanging greetings, the group all soon quickly set to discussing the plan of action for tomorrow's arrival at King's Landing.

'I think we should arrive separately,' Jon said to Daenerys, and Daenerys frowned.

'You don't want us to be seen to be…together?' she asked, somewhat disappointed.

Jon smiled; she had become particularly attached to that word as of late. 'It's not a question of what I want. I think you need to arrive with your dragons after the rest of us have arrived. Show Cersei what she's truly up against,' he explained.

Daenerys considered him for a moment and then nodded in agreement. 'Well I've been told I do have a proclivity for making dramatic entrances,' she said, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

Missandei caught Ser Davos' eye as they watched their King and Queen share a smile. One thing was for certain; with Jon and Daenerys working so well together leading the party, they might have a chance at persuading Cersei Lannister to help them after all.