By the time they got to the castle, Dany had lost consciousness. Jon ran to the gates as he carried her limp body in his arms, her blood now soaking his clothes and turning them red. The battle was over, but the war was not won. The Night King marched South with the remaining walkers and wights that he didn't send out to the battlefield. A sudden and unexpected feeling of anger overtook him, and although he tried to suppress it, he couldn't help himself. He was angry with his younger brother. The brother who left them at the worst time possible. If Bran were here he would have seen them hiding out in the woods, he would have known that it was all a trap, and Dany wouldn't be laying lifeless in his arms.

How could he let this happen?.

Jon looked down at her and even now she was still the most beautiful being in the world. He knew, without doubt, that he would not be able to go on if he lost her. With every death of a loved one, from Rickon to Ygritte… he lost a piece of himself each time, but he managed to carry on. He fought to make sure their deaths weren't in vain. But that could never be the case with Dany. What would there be to fight for if she was gone?

"Jon!" Davos called out upon seeing them arrive. He took a moment to take in the sight before him. "Jon, what happened?!"

"Call the maester! And Sansa!"

The two of them rushed inside and Jon entered the nearest chambers where he could rest her body on a bed. He unclasped the pin he gave her that secured the top of her cloak and pulled her out of the thick furs that allowed her to hide their secret. It wouldn't remain a secret for long.

His heart sank as he saw the gushing wound that ran across the right side of her body, from the bottom of her breast all the way to her back. The surrounding skin was bruised and her entire body completely pale.

"Jon?" Sansa said as she walked into the room with Sam and the Maester. He could see her stop as she came closer, her eyes shifting to his hand that rested on the swell of Dany's abdomen.

Sam immediately moved to feel her wrist. "She is alive, but her pulse is weak."

"We need to close the wound," Maester Wolkan said. "I'll go get the supplies."

"The Queen… she's with child," Sansa finally found it in herself to speak.

"My wife," Jon said, his voice thick and low. "My child."

She looked up in time to see the agony that blurred his eyes and caused his face to fall as he stared at the woman. It's a sight she had never seen on her brother. A fierce protectiveness ran through her as she reached out to grab his hand and squeeze it tightly. Suddenly, the rules and the politics didn't seem to matter. All she saw before her was her brother and the woman he loved, and all she felt was his pain.

"Sansa I need you to stay with her," he pleaded. "I'll be back as soon as I can but I have to bring Drogon back to the castle. He can't fly."

"I won't leave her sight. I promise." She sat at the bedside and took Dany's hand in hers. The Dragon Queen was a part of her family now.

Jon rested his hand on Drogon's neck as the beast huffed on the snow in the courtyard. He managed to pull the spear out of his wing, but it left a considerably large and painful hole that would need time to heal. The absence of Daenerys was stark in that regard, she should be here to comfort her hurt child.

The men who were still alive were slowly returning through the gates, and Jon knew that at one point he would need to go out and burn the bodies on the battlefield, but it didn't feel right. Most of them were Dany's men who travelled across the Narrow Sea to die in the cold winter. Jon knew that she would want, as difficult as it would be, to be the one who would see them off to join whichever gods they worshiped.

He returned back inside as quickly as he could after making sure Drogon would be okay. The news that the Queen was injured would have travelled fast, as Missandei, Tyrion were in the chambers now as well. Jon mouthed his thanks to Sansa who had remained at his wife's side, and she moved to allow him to take her spot.

"She is doing better," Sam said, resting a hand on Jon's shoulder. "She is fighting hard, but I'm afraid it may not be enough."

"What do you mean?" Jon turned to look at his best friend.

"The Queen lost a lot of blood," Maester Wolkan said. "She has not yet lost the babe, but if things don't improve quicker I expect-"

"No," Jon stood up. "That cannot happen."

"We are trying our best my Lord,"

"You have to try harder!"

"I probably shouldn't be suggesting this but it's the only thing I can think of," Sam muttered.

Jon looked up to meet his eyes. "What is it Sam?"

"It's not the most conventional way of doing things… and I've only read about it being done once or twice,"

"Sam! What is it?!" Sansa was now the one getting impatient.

"I want to give the Queen blood," he spat out.

'That is absurd!" Maester Wolkan exclaimed.

"Wait!" Jon said. "Let him finish."

Sam cleared his throat. "It can be risky, especially if the donor isn't a close match, but if you were the one to provide the blood… it's the best chance she's got."

The vein in Maester Wolkan's forehead looked as if it was about to burst. "My Lord, Samwell Tarly has not completed his training, he is not a Maester."

"Aye," Jon spoke. "But he cured Jorah Mormont's Greyscale when none of the Maesters at the Citadel could. I think that says enough."

He turned to look at Sam. "Are you sure you can do this?"

Sam went to grab what looked like a needle and a small glass bottle from the supply box. "Lift up your sleeve and sit down. This may sting…"

There was nothing but blackness surrounding her. It was quiet, peaceful even, and she didn't mind it at all. She would hear an occasional murmur, indistinguishable voices, but she preferred the quiet. She was so tired. Too tired to rise to what she supposed was the surface. She stayed, drifting along in the dark, forgetting everything and everyone.

Suddenly, amidst the shadows, a pair of blue eyes appeared. A cold and uncomfortable shade of blue, and they were slowly moving closer to her. She could feel her heart beating faster and harder against her ribcage as the darkness lost its serenity and turned into a place of nightmares.

She would take a step backwards as the eyes grew nearer but she knew she would run out of space soon enough. She couldn't stay here.

Then, out of nowhere, she was able to make out a whisper of a sound. And the blue eyes vanished.

Dany.

She knew that voice. She could feel the visceral pull that lifted her up towards the sound.

Open your eyes, please.

I'm trying, she wanted to say. But she didn't know how to return. The plea echoed within her, resonating through her and demanding that she respond to it.

Don't leave me here alone.

No, I don't want to, she thinks, struggling with all her might to pull herself, little by little, abandoning the abyss.

Stay with me.

Always, her mind whispers as she surges towards the surface.

He brought her back.

It was just the two of them in the chambers. Jon held her hand with both of his, and watched as her eyes flickered as he spoke to her. He knew she heard him, he felt it. It had been hours since he gave her his blood, and Sam said it was only a matter of waiting. But he grew impatient. He needed her in this very moment and in all those to come.

"Stay with me," he whispered into the shell of her ear.

And then he felt her fingers move slightly against his, and momentarily her eyes followed. He watched as she struggled to open them, but soon the amethyst eyes he knew too well met his own. She looked at him with relief, but then vulnerability overtook her as she moved her free hand to settle low on her stomach.

"Dany," he said softly.

She turned to him, groaned slightly at what he knew would be the burning pain of her wound. "Jon," she whispered, "please." He quickly grabbed a mug of water and helped her take a sip to soothe her throat. "Tell me, please."

"You're fine," he reached to place his hand above hers. "The two of you."

"What about Drogon?"

"I brought him back to the castle, he is wounded but he will heal."

And then she grasped at Jon's hair and pulled him to her for a kiss, a silent celebration. "Thank you my love," she whispered against his skin.

The door to the chambers then slightly opened, and Sansa peaked her head through the crack. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but we thought we heard voices," she said.

"Come in," Daenerys said.

Sansa walked in the room, followed by Tyrion and Sam.

"I just need to check a few things your Grace," Sam said.

She nodded and he proceeded to feel her wrist and check on her wound. He then grabbed a metal horn-like object and placed it on her abdomen, bringing his ear to its end.

"The heartbeat is good and strong," he said with a smile. "Would you like to listen, Jon?"

Jon tensed up for a moment before kneeling down to hear it, and then sighed with relief and gratitude as he heard the fluttering noise through the metal piece.

"You dragons are hard to take down," Tyrion spoke from the edge of the bed.

That was when they heard what seemed to be thunder, growing louder, louder each moment. Breaking into the rumble were the piercing screams. Jon reluctantly pulled away from the bed and stood.

"What's going on?" Dany asked.

"It's your men, your Grace," Tyrion said. "They want to know their Queen is alive. They are threatening to leave if not…"

"Where is Grey Worm?" she asked, grimacing at the pain of her wound as she spoke. "Let me speak to him!"

"He cannot be found," Tyrion looked to the ground.

She gulped hard. "How many have we lost?"

"It's difficult to ascertain but we think we are down to a hundred thousand."

"That's half the number we had yesterday," she muttered.

"All the men fought extremely hard your Grace," Tyrion continued. "The numbers could be worse. We can still fight them."

Sansa spoke now. "What is there left to fight? We have no idea where the Night King is going and how many follow him. For once, the North seems safer than the South."

"We cannot just allow the Night King to march South. For all we know he has gone to gather more of the dead to bring back up North." Jon said.

"Jon," she turned to face him. "If I died today, my army would have left with me. You wouldn't have enough men to continue the fight against the dead. That is not acceptable. They need to fight for you as they would for me."

"What are you saying?" Jon took her hand.

"She is saying that it's time the world knows who you are," Tyrion said. "King Aegon and Queen Daenerys, husband and wife. It is the only way to ensure that each of your men will fight for the other if something was to happen to one of you."

"And what of the Northern men?" Jon asked. "Will they still look to me as their leader when they find out I'm a Targaryen?"

Sansa cleared her throat. "The North is sworn to House Stark. When we bend the knee, the rest will follow. I would be surprised if anyone sees it any other way, especially considering the sacrifices the Dragon Queen has made to fight for their kingdom."

"She is right," Tyrion said. "They probably already have their suspicions after you took off from the battlefield riding a dragon."

Jon took a deep breath in as he tried to picture it all. He saw himself in Targaryen armor, standing with Ghost at one side and Rhaegal at the other. Soon, he could be holding a silver-haired babe in his arms. He was both dragon and wolf, and he was proud of it.

"All right," Jon turned to face Dany. "We'll do it. I am done hiding."

A/N: ayyy! Here is a relatively sweet and angsty chapter for you all after the craziness of the battle. Sam saves the day once again, and all is well (well not all.. #whereisgreyworm)

There are still many questions I left unanswered but I am saving it for future chapters as you can tell. I just wanted to thank everyone for the great responses I received for last chapter, I truly loved reading what you had to say about it!

As always, keep up the support and stay tuned for more. There is a lot more drama to come... trust me.