Based on events during Episode 7 of GoT Season 7


Jon's suggestion for Daenerys' late arrival to their meeting with Cersei could not have gone down more successfully. The look on Cersei's face alone as Daenerys and her dragons swooped into the desolate remains of the dragon pit in King's Landing was enough to show just how truly intimidated she was by her fiery rival. Cersei was on the losing side of this war. She knew it, and Daenerys knew it. Now all that was left to do was convince her to join them in the other war. The war against the dead.

With the Hound's help, Jon released the captured wight from the crate they had brought from the ship. Once she had witnessed the White Walker soldier writhing about on the ground before being destroyed by the Dragonglass weapon Jon used in his demonstration, it seemed that Cersei finally accepted that this was proof of the threat posed by the Army of the Dead.

'If those things come for us, there will be no kingdoms to rule. Everything we suffered will have been for nothing. Everything we lost will have been for nothing,' Cersei said, shaken by what she had just seen, and she glanced over at Daenerys, sat to the side near Tyrion. 'The Crown accepts your truce. Until the dead are defeated, they are the true enemy.'

Jon, who was stood before Cersei, exhaled deeply in relief. He caught Daenerys' eye, and they exchanged a hint of a hopeful smile.

But then Cersei spoke again.

'In return, the King in the North will extend this truce. He will remain in the North where he belongs,' Cersei said, and both Jon and Daenerys' faces fell in dismay. 'He will not take up arms against the Lannisters. He will not choose sides.'

'Just the King in the North?' Daenerys asked. 'Not me?'

Cersei gave a dry chuckle. 'I would never ask it of you,' she said in disgust. 'You would never agree to it, and if you did, I would trust you even less than I do now. I ask it only of Ned Stark's son. I know Ned Stark's son will be true to his word.'

Cersei turned expectantly to Jon, fixing him with a stern, threatening gaze. Daenerys looked back at Jon as well, wondering what he would say. Either he would have to lie to Cersei or he would feel obligated to do as Cersei demanded and return to the North. He would have to leave Daenerys' side. She could not bear that thought, but she knew Jon well enough now to know how much he would struggle to make a promise that he had no intention in keeping. But still. He had to do what must be done. If this was the only way to gain Cersei's support, then Jon would surely find it in him to be slightly dishonest to the cruel woman sat before him.

A heavy look of defeat on his face, Jon then turned to face Daenerys. She raised her head to him slightly, trying to reassure him without words that it was all right, that she knew he had to say whatever he must to convince Cersei, that she would not think him a traitor. Jon knew from the warm gaze in her eyes that this was what Daenerys was trying to convey, and yet it still left him with an unsettled feeling in his stomach. He could not let her down. But he also could not lie.

He glanced back uneasily at Cersei. 'I am true to my word. Or I try to be. That is why I cannot give you what you ask,' Jon said, and Daenerys frowned slightly. 'I cannot serve two queens. And I have already pledged myself to Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen.'

Cersei looked furious as she glared down at Jon, but Daenerys didn't even notice; she was gazing breathlessly over at Jon, her eyes wide, her lips parted. She was stunned. She exhaled deeply, unsure whether she was more angry or more lovestruck. A part of her sincerely wished that Jon hadn't publicly pledged his loyalty to her in such a foolish way. And yet a part of her was overwhelmingly glad that he had. Loyalty has always been an attractive quality to her; she could feel her heart racing like never before. And yet she could also feel fury at him rising inside her as well; there was no way the rest of this meeting would go well after what he had just said.

'Then there is nothing left to discuss,' Cersei spat, rising from her seat. 'The dead will come North first. Enjoy dealing with them. We will deal with whatever is left of you.'

Horrified, Jon opened his mouth to speak but could find no words; instead he watched hopelessly as Cersei and her entourage stormed past him and left the dragon pit. He was unable to look at Daenerys. Yes, he had upheld his oath to her, but his honour had destroyed their plan. He was incapable of lying. And he was devoted to his Queen. Was he blinded by love for her? Had his irrevocable affection for Daenerys led him to make the most reckless decision of his life, and thereby doomed the fate of the world as they knew it?

'I wish you hadn't done that,' Ser Davos muttered.

Jon raised his eyes to the sky irritably, and sighed as Daenerys rose from her seat and marched over to him. He couldn't bear to look her in the eye.

'I'm grateful for your loyalty,' she said, barely able to contain her frustration with him. 'But my dragon died so that we could be here.'

Jon closed his eyes, still unable to look at her. She sounded close to tears.

'If it's all for nothing,' she went on angrily, 'then he died for nothing.'

'I know!' Jon snapped.

He still couldn't bring himself to face her. Her cold disappointment and rage and grief was too much, particularly when he had to accept the fact that he was the cause of it all. Why did he have to be such an idiot?'

'I'm pleased you bent the knee to our queen. I would have advised it, had you asked,' Tyrion said, and he turned angrily to Jon. 'But have you ever considered learning how to lie every now and then? Just a bit?'

Jon rounded on him. 'I'm not going to swear an oath I can't uphold,' he said firmly. 'Talk about my father if you want, tell me that's the attitude that got him killed. But when enough people make false promises, words stop meaning anything. Then there are no more answers, only better and better lies. And lies won't help us in this fight.'

'That is indeed a problem. The more immediate problem is that we're fucked,' Tyrion said agitatedly.

'Any ideas as to how we might change that state of affairs?' Ser Davos asked.

There was a short silence.

'Only one,' Tyrion said in a low voice. 'Everyone stays here, and I go and talk to my sister.'

Daenerys stormed up to him, her silent anger making both him and Jon flinch slightly. 'I didn't come all this way to have my Hand murdered,' she protested.

'I don't want Cersei to murder me either. I could have stayed in my cell and saved a great deal of trouble,' Tyrion replied.

'I did this. I should go,' Jon said, determined to make amends, and Daenerys' heart stopped in fear.

'She'll definitely murder you. I go see my sister alone,' Tyrion said firmly. 'Or we all go home and we're right back where we started.'

Daenerys considered him. After a moments' silence, she gave a reluctant nod, and off Tyrion went to confront his twisted sister. The others remained behind in frosty silence while they waited anxiously for his return. As time slowly dragged on, Jon trudged over to the side of the dragon pit; Daenerys left him to brood on his own for a while, but then could bear the tension no longer. She walked quietly over to him as he explored the dusty ruins of the dragon pit. He had stooped down and picked up what appeared to be a small skull of a dragon's head. It looked tiny enough to be a baby.

Hearing her approach, Jon glanced around at her. She looked less angry, but still saddened by the situation that he had landed them all in. His eyes flickered back down to the skull that he was turning over in his hands. Daenerys was silent when she came to a halt beside him. She didn't know what to say.

Jon sighed heavily. 'No one is less happy about this than I am,' he murmured, still unable to meet her disappointed gaze.

'I know,' Daenerys said gently, her temper somewhat cooled now. 'I respect what you did. Wish you hadn't done it, but I respect it.'

'Respect' was, in all honesty, putting it lightly. But Daenerys had to remain calm and collected around him. At least, she did with so many others in the pit with them.

Her voice was so much softer around him now, ever since Viserion's death. Even in her anger and misery and frustration right now, she showed her vulnerability and acted so differently around him, more so than any of the others. It made Jon see a small glimmer of hope in the midst of all this mess.

Daenerys took a few steps closer to him and held out her hand for the miniscule dragon skull in Jon's hands; he handed it over to her. 'This place was the beginning of the end for my family,' she said, examining the skull in distaste and looking around at their surroundings, and she spoke in Valyrian. 'A dragon is not a slave.'

She slowly began to walk over to a quiet corner of the pit, away from prying eyes. Jon followed her.

'They were terrifying. Extraordinary,' Daenerys went on wistfully, as she came to rest by an archway. 'They filled people with wonder and awe…and we locked them in here.'

She looked around the dragon pit in disgust.

'They wasted away. They grew small. And we grew small as well,' Daenerys said bitterly, leaning against the bricks behind her. 'We weren't extraordinary without them. We were just like everyone else.'

She held out the dragon skull to give back to Jon. He took it from her, making sure to brush his gloved fingers against her own as he did so.

'You're not like everyone else,' Jon said, astonished by how humble she had become.

He gazed at her for a moment, and then walked towards her. Daenerys' heart rate increased rapidly as he stepped closer to her; there wasn't much distance between them now. For anyone looking their way, she knew they did not look like merely two allies conversing. But no one seemed to have notice; it was just the two of them, hidden away in a dark corner of the pit, their eyes only for each other. It was incredibly intimate.

'And your family hasn't seen its end. You're still here,' Jon said, an almost triumphant air to his voice.

'I can't have children,' Daenerys said quietly.

'Who told you that?' Jon asked, a slight frown on his face.

'The witch who murdered my husband,' Daenerys replied.

'Has it occurred to you she might not have been a reliable source of information?' Jon pointed out, and Daenerys smiled in amusement; he made it sound almost like a challenge.

She gazed at him in wonder for a moment. 'You were right from the beginning,' she said softly, and it didn't pain her to admit it. 'If I had trusted you, everything would be different.'

She knew there was no point in regretting the past, but still, she couldn't help feeling this way. Looking back now, Daenerys barely recognised the cold-hearted, untrusting, arrogant person she had been when she and Jon had first met. She had become ruthless and hard…until she had met Jon. He had made her feel like herself again. With Jon, she no longer had to put on any kind of fierce act. She could open up to him. She could be…Daenerys. It was as if she finally remembered who she really was, underneath all the grandeur and titles. Unbeknownst to her, Jon had been her light at the end of a very dark tunnel. And she had been the same to Jon as well.

'So, what now?' Jon asked heavily.

Daenerys shook her head to herself helplessly. 'I can't forget what I saw north of the Wall. And I can't pretend that Cersei won't take back half the country the moment I march north.'

Jon looked down defeatedly. 'It appears Tyrion's assessment was correct,' he said dryly, and Daenerys gave him a questioning look as he gazed back at her. 'We're fucked.'

In spite of everything, Daenerys laughed softly. She appreciated that he could try to make light of their doomed situation. Jon smiled tenderly back; the way he looked at her made her heart melt. She had got so lost in his warm gaze that she had almost forgotten about Tyrion's private audience with Cersei; indeed, when Jon's eyes flickered to her lips, Daenerys had almost forgotten about pretty much everything. But then there came the sound of approaching footsteps, and the spell was broken. Her smile fading, Daenerys peered around Jon's shoulder; she and Jon emerged from their secluded hideout to see that Tyrion had returned. And he was not alone.

Daenerys and Jon stepped up together and waited for Cersei and her entourage side-by-side, a united front. The sight of the two of them stood together, joined at the hip, was enough to make Tyrion freeze. They looked so powerful. A force to be reckoned with. And it shook him.

Cersei came to a halt opposite them, her head held high. 'My armies will not stand down. I will not pull them back to the capital. I will march them north to fight alongside you in the Great War,' she said; Daenerys felt overwhelming relief as Jon glanced over at Tyrion, who gave them both a reassuring smile. 'The darkness is coming for us all. We'll face it together. And when the Great War is over, perhaps you'll remember I chose to help…with no promises or assurances from any of you. I expect not.'

She spat the words, but Jon and Daenerys did not care – all that mattered was that she was helping them. They had succeeded in their mission, and now, finally, they might have a chance at defeating the Army of the Dead once and for all. It filled them with hope. It filled them both with the desire to take each other's hand and squeeze it. But they didn't. All they could do was look at each other and smile and speak without words in the hope that their advisors and the Lannisters couldn't see what was happening between them.


It took them just under a week to travel back to Dragonstone. During this time, Jon and Daenerys were practically inseparable. Wherever anyone went on the ship, they could be sure to find the pair at each other's side constantly, apart from in the early morning and late at night. Although…this wasn't always the case.

Indeed, one particular night found the two conversing in the dining cabin way past the hour in which they had planned to retire to bed. They had been unable to sleep due to the ferocious storm raging outside, and so had decided to share some wine together instead.

'Do you really think she'll send her men north?' Daenerys wondered aloud, taking a sip of wine as they sat together in the cabin.

'Tyrion seems to think so.'

Daenerys didn't seem to find this answer reassuring. 'But is Tyrion blinded by loyalty to his family?'

'He and Cersei aren't really family,' Jon said thoughtfully, drinking some more of his wine. 'She's evil. And I don't say that word lightly. Tyrion is a good man.'

'He is,' Daenerys agreed.

There was a short silence while they listened to the wind howling and the rain battering against the windows outside. Daenerys was glad they were sitting down; the ship was rather unsteady on the waters tonight due to the weather.

She tilted her head at him. 'So.'

Jon smiled back at her. 'So.'

'Once we've set our affairs in order at Dragonstone, we'll depart for Winterfell,' Daenerys said, raising her glass.

'You're sure you want to come with me?' Jon asked, and his words sent butterflies tingling in Daenerys' stomach. 'Dragonstone is your home.'

'Exactly, and Winterfell is yours. It seems only fair I should see it,' Daenerys insisted, and they shared a smile as they clinked goblets and took another sip of wine. 'We're in this together, Jon. No matter what happens. The White Walkers are near to the North, so that is where we will go. We need to defend your home. Besides, I want to see it. I want to meet your sisters and brother. And Ghost.'

Jon was in awe of her. And completely in love. As the ship rocked slightly to the side, he couldn't help wondering how long he would be able to keep this pretence up, how long he'd be able to refrain himself from giving into his feelings. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to keep it in any longer.

'I never really thanked you,' he said, gazing affectionately at her.

'For what?'

'Coming all that way to save us. Beyond the Wall,' Jon replied, as the storm continued to rage outside. 'You risked your life for us. You didn't have to do that.'

Daenerys gazed at him in wonder; he still didn't get it, did he? 'I had no choice. You were in danger,' she said simply, but then her face fell. 'Although you shouldn't be thanking me. I should be asking you for forgiveness. I left you behind.'

'Because I told you to go. And because you thought I was dead. Fucking hell, I thought I was dead,' Jon said reassuringly, and without thinking he reached out and took her hand. 'There's nothing to forgive.'

Daenerys looked down at their intertwined fingers and smiled. 'For what it's worth, I'm glad you didn't die out there,' she murmured, squeezing his hand.

'So am I.'

They both chuckled softly, but then Daenerys' face fell. It was the first time she had talked about that day without dwelling on Viserion's death. It made her feel somewhat guilty. Jon seemed to understand; he slowly withdrew his hand from hers and finished off his goblet of wine.

'It's late. We should…' He trailed off awkwardly as he got up to his feet.

'Yes. We should,' Daenerys agreed, rising to her feet.

The ship was swaying violently from side to side; Daenerys and Jon both had to grab the furniture and walls to keep themselves upright as they made their way towards the cabin door to leave, but with a mighty clash of lightening, the ship was sent swerving to one side. Their empty wine goblets fell to the floor with a clatter as Daenerys lost her balance and was knocked into the wall from the sheer force of the violent storm raging outside.

'Ooh, careful!' Jon said in concern, and without thinking he put his hand on Daenerys' waist to steady her. 'Are you all right?'

Daenerys couldn't answer; she was too shaken and breathless by their proximity. He had never been stood this close to her before. Jon felt a lump rise in his Adam's apple as he took in Daenerys' intense gaze, and he looked down nervously at his hand on her waist.

'Forgive me, I didn't mean…' Jon began nervously, but he couldn't finish his sentence; her eyes were smouldering as they bore into his, cutting him short.

He meant to pull away from her but he felt his fingers lingering, and, as if she knew he needed reassuring that this was what she wanted, she slowly put her hand over his, keeping his fingers there tight and secure around her waist. Jon exhaled deeply as he gazed at her in wonder, praying his heart rate would regain some control of normality. Her lips were so full and rosy. And right there, mere inches from his.

This couldn't be. They were driven people in powerful roles and had set their sights set on a daunting, near-impossible task to fight the Army of the Dead, which they needed to focus on. They could not allow themselves to be distracted by their burgeoning love for each other. But what if this was actually what both of them needed? What if this wouldn't end in disaster? What if this was the one good thing in their troubling lives right now that could make them happy?

The ship rocked to the side again; the two of them stumbled slightly, and Daenerys reached an arm out onto Jon's shoulder to steady herself as their foreheads knocked into each other's. They both looked at each other and began laughing softly. And then Jon was tucking a loose strand of Daenerys' hair behind her ear…and Daenerys was gazing longingly up at him, leaning slowly towards him…his nose touched hers…

'Your Grace, I…oh.'

With a gasp, Daenerys jumped apart from Jon, who turned around irritably to see Tyrion stood in the open doorway to the dining cabin. The two of them had been so preoccupied with each other that they hadn't noticed Tyrion's firm tap of the door as he had unsteadily entered. Trying hard not to lose balance himself, he cast them both a disapproving glance.

'My apologies,' Tyrion said insincerely, as he firmly held onto the door. 'I did not realise you had company.'

Jon and Daenerys exchanged a flustered look. There was no avoiding the fact that Tyrion had interrupted a very intimate situation. From what he had seen before he had alerted them to his presence, it looked as if Jon had backed Daenerys up against the wall.

'What is it, Tyrion?' Daenerys asked impatiently, smoothing down her dress slightly and holding onto the wall to avoid falling again.

'I was wondering if you were all right…with the storm,' Tyrion said, avoiding her searching glare. 'I know you can get quite…seasick at times.'

It was a blatant lie, and very obvious to Jon what he was trying to do. Daenerys seemed mortified.

'I'm…quite well, thank you,' she replied, furious with him.

'Good.'

There was an awkward silence. Tyrion looked from Jon to Daenerys pointedly. Eventually, Jon could stand the tension no longer.

'I…should be going,' he said, stepping away from Daenerys, and he nodded at them both. 'Goodnight, Your Grace. Tyrion.'

'Goodnight, Jon.'

Both Jon and Tyrion froze slightly; Daenerys had not called him 'Jon' in front of anyone before. Jon looked into her eyes for a moment that seemed to last an eternity, a dozen things passing between them without words, and then he turned and left, closing the door to the cabin behind him.

Daenerys flashed her eyes warningly at Tyrion before he had even opened his mouth. 'Don't start.'

'Your Grace, I-'

'Nothing happened,' Daenerys snapped, stumbling slightly as the ship swerved again; the storm outside didn't appear to be calming down in the slightest.

'Well I must insist you make sure it never does!' Tyrion urged.

'And why should I?' Daenerys demanded.

There was a stunned silence. It was the first time that Daenerys hadn't denied what Tyrion had long been suggesting.

He sighed sympathetically at her. 'Forming a romantic attachment, given the state of things, is hardly the wisest thing someone in your position should do. You must see that,' he said reprovingly.

Daenerys frowned. 'You said yourself back in Meereen that an alliance through a marriage-'

'-Would be advantageous if it were purely political, yes, but this…this is something else entirely,' Tyrion said, his tone almost wary. 'It's something so much more, for both of you, it's as plain as the nose on your face.'

'So what would you have me do? Force myself to feel nothing?' Daenerys asked sharply, scowling at him as they both struggled to keep standing upright.

'I know better than most that that would be an impossible task. But you must try and keep your feelings at bay. At least, for now,' Tyrion said. 'We cannot afford any complications in this war. We need you, and Jon Snow, to be focussed on what is to come.'

Daenerys felt her nostrils begin to flare. 'Tyrion, do you think me incapable of keeping my mind set on the task I have worked my whole life towards? You think I'm suddenly going to forget about the White Walkers and Cersei just because of a man?'

'Of course I don't think that,' Tyrion said in a small voice.

'Then I don't see why you're so against me…being free to do or feel whatever I choose. I am capable of being queen and of loving a man at the same time,' Daenerys said fiercely, and Tyrion's eyes widened in astonishment. 'It does not make me weak or unable to rule the Seven-'

'You love him?'

Daenerys faltered, and said nothing. Her flustered expression and reddened cheeks were answer enough.

Tyrion was shocked. Affection, yes. Lust, yes. But love? In all the time he had been counselling Daenerys, he had never once worried in the slightest about her falling in love, not even when she had been involved with Daario Naharis. But Jon Snow was no Daario. He was so much more. He had completely captured Daenerys' heart, Tyrion could see that now.

'I'm tired. I'll see you in the morning, Tyrion,' Daenerys said firmly, moving unsteadily towards the door as the ship swayed to the side again. 'As I understand it, we should be back at Dragonstone by nightfall tomorrow. Goodnight.'

Tyrion sighed in defeat; he knew a lost cause when he saw one. 'Goodnight, Your Grace,' he said heavily.

She left and shut the cabin door behind her just as the ship was knocked over to one side once again; Tyrion stumbled to the floor. He stared at the two empty wine goblets as they rolled about on the wooden panelling, and cursed under his breath. This wasn't good. He sat down, and rested his back against one of the chairs, where he spent the next few hours dwelling on this new 'situation' between Jon and Daenerys, all the while staring at the goblets as they clattered against each other while the storm persisted outside.