A/N: Not sure if you guys need it but smut warning ;)
Chapter 29
Jon
It has been three days and Daenerys had not spoken since the night she had struck him. She had also barely looked at him, despite his constant presence about her, which she quietly allowed; to his immense relief. He could not imagine what he would have done if Daenerys had denied him the rights to even see her. She allowed him to touch her, to kiss her and to hold her as they slept but she did not reciprocate.
In a way, seeing Daenerys' vacant, lifeless, gaze broke his heart and left him empty as well. But he supposed he should be thankful that in this state, she rested more than she would have, as Grand Maester Julian strongly encouraged. Although it did not kill her, the poison had weakened her and she had lost a great deal of blood as she lost their child.
Three days ago, when Jon had returned, he panicked to see Jaehaerys' entourage outside their chambers. He had imagined how Daenerys would push Jaehaerys away, or worse, ignore him as she did to Jon. Jaehaerys was only so young, he would not understand why his mother behaved as such and it would wound Jaehaerys.
But as Jon entered the chambers, in a state of panic, he let out the breath he was holding. Daenerys was in bed and Jaehaerys was curled up beside her, his face nestled close to her chest and her nose in his hair. Jaehaerys was evidently sound asleep, taking his afternoon nap in his mother's arms. Daenerys' eyes flew open as he opened the door and she glanced over to see him before her eyes avoided him and fixed forward, gazing vacantly at the wall.
Relief flooded him then to see Daenerys had not rejected her son. How could she when she love him so? A mother's love for her child. Just as she loved their unborn child who she was never going to hold in her arms, like she could with Jaehaerys now. Then it was no surprise to Jon that Daenerys would keep Jaehaerys close. She had lost a child, she could not lose another.
Since that day, Jaehaerys came to Daenerys for his afternoon naps in between his lessons with the Maesters and Aggo, as he did in those four years she had slept. When he asked Jaehaerys if Daenerys had spoken, Jon was both relieved and hurt to hear that she did; even though minimally. Jaehaerys had been especially excited when he told Jon that Daenerys had even smiled at him today. At that, Jon was ashamed to feel a bitter taste fill his mouth; hurt and jealous of his own son.
Jon sighed, hoping against hope that Daenerys' mood would be lifted this night. She had been asleep when he had left her side this morning, pressing a soft kiss to her hair but she had not stir.
"Your Grace!"
He spun on his heel to see Sam approaching, "Sam," Jon nodded.
Sam smiled as he approached but Sam's smile faded as he came closer and saw Jon's face. Jon had not seen Sam since the trial, "are you alright, your Grace?"
Jon nodded, "just tired," he knew he looked terrible, particularly the dark circles around his eyes that he had gotten from staying up to gaze at Daenerys' peaceful face as she slept. He worried for her and his thoughts kept sleep far from him. She had gone and put up walls to keep him out again and Jon could not break them down or find a way in for the life of him. Truthfully, Daenerys was now a shadow of who she once was and Jon missed his wife dearly but he would give her as much time as she needed to heal her body and her heart, "is something the matter?"
Sam nodded, "I have been studying what Lady Arya brought to me," the sword, the poison and the antidote. Sam's eyes darted about as he said, "may we speak in my chambers, your Grace?"
Jon nodded and they proceeded. There had been no sightings of Jaime Lannister from the men he had sent out to look from him. Even Varys said his little birds have been quiet on that regard and with every passing day, Jon felt frustration and rage build in him at the mention or even the thought of that man.
As Sam entered his chambers, Jon gestured to the Kingsguards and entered without them, "so what is it?"
Sam shifted uncomfortably as he removed his collar, "you might want to sit down, Jon,"
Jon shook his head and Sam sighed. He probably knew now there was no way Jon would sit, "just tell me," Jon said impatiently.
"Well," Sam sat, "I have been in the lab the past 3 days," so that was where he went.
"And?" Jon asked as Sam hesitated.
"I don't think Jaime Lannister could have done it," Sam blurted, looking straight at him and Jon saw that Sam had no doubt about it, although his wavering voice suggested otherwise.
Jon stared at him, feeling his shoulders tensed as his hands fisted instinctively at his side.
"I know how you feel about him, Jon, and you think he did it but the evidence suggests that he did not-"
"And what evidence suggests this?" Jon asked, taking a deep breath through his nose to calm himself.
"Well, for one, Jaime Lannister could not possibly have poisoned the Queen by touching her on the lips with traces of it on his glove," Sam said, "this poison is not to be used this way. For it to… kill someone," Jon felt a lump form in his throat and his stomach turn at the mention of his little princess, "it would have to be directly ingested. The amount Jaime Lannister could smear on her lips incidentally would not have an effect like that," Jon stiffened at Sam's suggestion, as if Sam had already made up his mind that Jaime Lannister was innocent, "and-"
"He could have spiked her food when he came to our table," Jon said stiffly, interrupting.
Sam frowned, "did the Queen eat or drink anything after he came to the table?" Jon kept quiet. They both knew she did not. He had invited her to dance, leaving no time for her to eat or drink since he seek an audience with her at the high table, "Jon," his eyes turned to Sam, "I know you want to think it is him-"
"No, I do not but the evidence do point to him and Arianne Martell has confessed as much," Jon snapped, turning away.
"Can we believe what she has said? We don't know what she wants, Jon," Sam said.
Your daughter's blood is on your hands, my King. Is it truly?
Jon closed his eyes. But he knew Sam was right. They should not believe everything Arianne Martell had said but Jon could not even begin to speculate how she would benefit from this by framing Jaime Lannister like that. What reason would she have to lie?
"You may not trust him, Jon," Sam paused before adding, "and rightfully so. But Jaime Lannister is loyal to the Queen. If he wanted to harm her, he would have done it while she lay vulnerable for four years. Instead, he had protected her," Jon felt his fist tightened at his side for he knew Sam was right; Jon hardly remembered seeing Jaime Lannister absent from his guard duty outside her door. And Jon knew something Sam did not; Jaime Lannister loved Daenerys. Jon could see it in his eyes as he looked at her, as he had asked her to dance, his hand holding hers so gently as if afraid she might break. And Jaime Lannister himself had admitted it.
"So who did it?" Jon growled out, turning to Sam. Arianne Martell did not come anywhere near the table. He saw red as he imagined how she could have slipped the poison onto the food to be served to the high table; how he had left Daenerys and Jaehaerys vulnerable to that the whole time. But Jon knew she would not do so, for how would she know which plate would have been served to the Queen?
Unless that night… when Daenerys went to Arianne Martell herself, against Jon's wishes, and accompanied by Jaime Lannister. The Queen ate something Arianne Martell provided in her chambers when we went to her. Arianne Martell herself ate it so she thought it safe. Jaime Lannister had told him but how much was the words of an Oathbreaker worth?
Sam shrugged, "that is for us to find out… now that Arianne Martell is dead,"
"What of her men?" Jon asked.
"She only brought 3 to the capital and 1 of them is nowhere to be found. The other two has been killed while resisting capture," Sam replied.
Jon closed his eyes, sighing as he felt the last of his anger ebb away as overwhelming fatigue washed over him. He sank into the seat Sam had previously offered.
"Is everything alright, Jon?" he felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing.
Jon opened his eyes and looked at his friend, "Daenerys has been… not herself these past few days," Jon massaged his temple, "she's grieving over our child," Jon felt the familiar ache in his chest.
"As you are," Sam pointed out.
"Aye," Jon said, "but she would not talk to me," he looked at his friend, "and she could be angry at me but she doesn't look angry. She won't even look at me and I don't know why,"
"Maybe she just needs some time to herself?" Sam said, "imagine how she must be feeling, Jon. She must have felt like it was her fault. That she failed your child, failed to protect her,"
Jon jumped to his feet, "I would never blame her for it!" he said angrily. Sam was speaking madness.
"I never said you did," Sam raised his brows, "but it makes sense. She was the one carrying the child. Whatever she choose to eat, it…caused the death of the Princess,"
Jon paused and then he froze, "and I told her our child had died so she could live; that I would do nothing to change it and even choose it if I had a choice," he was trying to tell her how glad he was that she was alive, how he did not blame her in the least. But he did not realise that to her ears, he had told her their child was gone because of her. He was so busy telling her how relieved he had felt she was alive that he had forgotten how she would feel.
Jon's heart wrenched at the thought of how Daenerys must have felt and must be feeling. I claim to love her and I do not know her heart.
I deserve to be struck. Jon realised.
At first, when she had struck him, through the shock, it had hurt him in his core. But Jon felt it could not compare to how she must have felt. Jon knew he would never forgive himself if their child had died for him, because of him. He could never live with himself.
He stood, "I'm sorry, I have to go," he muttered, almost incoherently as he struggled to even orientate himself to the door.
"It would be alright, Jon," Sam stood.
He paused at the door and turned, forcing a smile, "thank you, Sam," then he left.
Jon could hear the Kingsguards struggling to keep up with him but Jon could not care less for his own safety. He could kill whoever would stop him from going to her now, much less if someone would try to assassinate him at this time.
He came to their chambers to see that Jaehaerys' guards were not at the door; there was only Jorah and Qhono. Jon opened the door and entered without hesitation, intending to knock only at the door of their private chambers, where he expected her to be.
He blinked in surprise.
At the table, Daenerys sat, in front of her half eaten supper. Beside her, Missandei bowed, greeting him but Jon barely heard her. Daenerys had turned to him as he had entered but then her eyes had dropped to the floor before they could meet his. She was in the solar, out of bed for the first time, since he had placed her on it after the feast.
As he let out a breath of relief, he approached her quickly and went on his knees before her, taking her hand from her lap and in his, "Dany, are you feeling better already, to be out of bed?" he asked softly, searching her face. Her eyes were the usual breath-taking shade of lilac but they were downcast, not looking at him. A light pink colour had returned to her cheeks. He smiled slightly as he noticed the signs of her recovery but it did not reach his eyes; it couldn't, not until he saw her smile. He turned to Missandei.
"Was she hungry?"
Missandei shook her head, "the Prince insisted she leave her bed to eat her supper. He had just left, your Grace," Jon smiled, amused at Jaehaerys' antics; it sure took a dragon to move another. And Jaehaerys was a true dragon, not just in name and blood; he had the fire in him to prove it, as his mother did.
"Thank you Missandei, you may leave to rest. I will attend to the Queen," Jon said and Missandei bowed, taking her leave. He waited until the door closed behind her before he turned back to look at Daenerys. He yearned for those beautiful eyes to look at him; to spare him even a glance now, "Daenerys," he started, squeezing her hand, "I'm so sorry," Daenerys did not look at him but her lips pressed together, barely noticeable if he had not been watching her closely, "I'm sorry I do not know your heart; that I did not understand how you must be feeling," her hand tensed under his, "that I did not comfort you when you needed it the most and I have said the most horrible things to you," he felt a lump form in his throat and he swallowed, continuing, "it is not your fault, Daenerys,"
Her jaw tensed and her lilac eyes began to fill with tears but her face remained, impassive.
"Our child...she loves you and I know no one loves her like you do. She knows it too," Jon said thickly, his chest aching at the mention of their daughter, "blaming yourself won't bring her back, Dany. I wish we could have known her. I would give everything I have to have a chance to hold her,"
Daenerys let out a shaky breath, her body beginning to tremble. Her lips were now pressed firmly together, her eyes staring vacantly at the floor.
"But I know I can't anymore and no matter how hard we willed it, she won't ever come back to life, Dany. Even if you tortured yourself like this. Even if you tortured us," Jon said thickly, his own eyes filling with tears. He would know. He had done so, for Robb's death, for Ygritte's death, for Rickon's death, "Daenerys, please, this… this is not your fault,"
A tear escaped her eye and trailed down her cheek. Then suddenly, she pulled her hand from his and stood, making to walk away; no doubt to hide her tears from him, hide herself. Jon shot to his feet, reaching to stop her. But before he could, she paused and teetered unsteadily.
"Dany!" she fell back and he stepped forward, his arms around her, firmly holding her to him, "you shouldn't be walking yet," he muttered, peering to see her face paling. Her eyes were closed, her brows furrowed as she struggled to rid herself of the light headedness, "I'll bring you back to bed," he said and when she did not make to object, he slipped his other arm under her leg and lifted her into his arms.
As he glanced to her, he paused at the close proximity of their faces. He gazed down at her, enamoured. Then she opened her eyes and for the first time in a while, their eyes met.
Jon exhaled unwittingly as his mind blanked of everything that had constantly occupied it for the past few days. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and absurdly, his stomach twisted nervously. But at the same time, he felt as if a weight has been lifted from his tired body. Every muscle in him relaxed only to tense again in sweet desire for her. He swallowed to ease his dry mouth but to no avail.
A jolt of fear ran through him as the candlelight reflected in her eyes flickered, as if hinting at her intention to look away; to hide herself again. Dreading that the moment may end, he croaked, his voice a rasp whisper, "Daenerys," her eyes stayed on his then as if they were compelled to; unable to look away. He thought he saw a flash of panic in them but they were gone before he could delve further.
This was his wife. He thought. My, now, broken wife. He knew then he had fallen in love with her again; even as she lay pale, sickly and dishevelled in his arms. If there was any doubt in his mind before, he realised at that moment he would always love her. Even if she would not speak another word to him ever again; even if she was to remain distant from him, as she was now, for the rest of their lives together; even if she were to go mad or even if she was- dead, he would always love her. He would always yearn for her, as he did since first met her on Dragonstone, as he did now.
He opened his mouth then. He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know everything he felt and thought in that moment but his mind fell short of coming up with the words. He did not know how to tell her exactly how he felt; there were simply no words for it.
He startled, blinking in surprise, as he felt her hand settle, hesitantly, on his cheek. Her eyes watching where her hand touched him. A pained look came to her eyes then. No words were said but Jon knew, she was taking his pain away; the pain she had caused him. Not just on his skin, where she had hit him, but from his heart, where the slap had reached.
With a slight and barely noticeable shake of her head, her eyes, fixed on his cheek where her thumb brushed over, filled with unshed tears; raw pain that had been his. He leaned into her warm touch and as he took a breath then, the air was sweet.
He leaned closer and pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes never leaving hers.
A shiver that ran through her petite frame in his arms then made him suddenly aware of how he still stood in the solar; and her in his arms wearing nothing but a cotton nightdress that did little against the draughty winds from the open window.
Quietly, he proceeded into the sleeping chambers. Her bed was made and the sheets fresh. Jon placed her gently on the bed before pulling aside the furs and covering it over her. As he came to sit by her side, the furs pulled up to her chin, he realised her eyes were still on him. Jon felt his own lips curve into a small smile at her and he brushed aside her silver locks from her cheek.
Just as he made to speak, she whispered, "I'm sorry,"
Jon froze, in surprise, then immense joy to hear her; his joy only dampened when he realised what she had said. He furrowed his brows and leaned closer to her, his hand gently brushing her hair back from her forehead, "you have nothing to be sorry for," he told her firmly, his eyes holding hers with intense conviction, "but I am sorry, for saying those things to you; the last thing you needed to know or hear at that moment,"
She shook her head slowly. Her eyes darted between his before they dropped from his altogether and Jon felt a jolt of panic go through him that she might hide from him again. She said, so softly he could barely hear her, "I have everything to be sorry for, to you… everything that has happened-"
"No!" he said, harsher than he had intended but he needed her to know, "none of it is your fault."
Your daughter's blood is on your hands. Your wife's blood is on your hands.
Her eyes darted shiftily, unconvinced but before she could say anymore, he said, "none of it, Daenerys!" he held her face gently, "you mustn't think it. I forbid it!" he said firmly.
And she blinked, in astonishment.
Then Jon realised that it would probably be the first time she had been spoken to like this, the first time in a long time. Who would dare order a Queen? He cursed inwardly and parted his lips to apologise, to take back his harsh words; the words he should not have said again-
A smile, one so precious to Jon, graced her lips and he paused, "if that is what my King commands," she replied quietly, muted amusement evident in her tone.
Jon flushed as at her tease. He had not realised he had spoken as a King would. He had only been reacting. Trying to rid himself of the heat in his cheek, he schooled his face into a solemn expression, "I hadn't meant-"
She shook her head dismissively, the small smile still on her lips, and he could see no offense was taken.
As she looked at him, her smile faded, Jon felt the intense need to see that smile again. She needed to take her mind off it. So he said, "if only I had known sooner,"
"What?" a frown of confusion.
"That if I were to be King, you would stop being so stubborn; I would never even have considered to be King Consort," he muttered, unsmiling but his eyes twinkled.
Jon felt a thrill of success run through him as the edge of her lips twitched but she pursed her lips at him instead, "When have I been stubborn, my King?"
He felt his face heat up again as she addressed him as such but he resolved to ignore it and raised a meaningful brow at her. He was enjoying their easy banter; that she was looking at him and even speaking with him again.
Daenerys' lilac eyes dropped from his momentarily, a hint of admittance before her chin jutted in indignation, "I would not have to be so if you had bent the knee as soon as I asked," the cool collected voice of a Queen seeping into her tone. Jon chuckled, realising where Jaehaerys had gotten that look and tone about him when he had argued with his wet nurse; whether it was about going to bed, or for another serving of lemon cake.
At her indignant stare, he quelled his amusement with a small shake of his head, just enough to speak, "Jaehaerys has that look. And your stubbornness," he could not wipe the smile from his face.
She huffed and Jon felt his heart stutter as she reached up and took his face in her gentle hands, "or yours,"
He chuckled, "or mine," he gazed at her lovingly, nuzzling his cheek against her hand.
With an awed look in her eyes, she told him then, "how can you love me? After how I could not even bring myself to look at you or say a word to you," a pained look crossed her face, "you deserve so much more than what happened... I could not be a wife to you all those years; I could not e-even keep our child-" she choked over her words then, her face crumbling as she sobbed. He placed his hand over hers frantically, opening his mouth to speak but she continued, "I did not even have the strength to comfort you when you needed me and I-I have hurt y-you," then through her tears, she looked at him, "you deserve s-so much more than me,"
"No," Jon paled, absolutely appalled. He had thought it was always him who was never enough for her; almost a goddess amongst men, "how can you even think that?" he took both her hands from his face and into his hands, "Daenerys. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Do you know how much hope you gave me just by existing?,"
He could still see the imposing throne room and he could feel the stutter of his heart as he laid eyes on the Queen on the throne. Her ethereal beauty took his breath away and all the harsh words of warning he prepared for her since he left Winterfell died on the back of his dry mouth.
"I told you about how I hadn't felt like myself after I was brought back; I felt so empty for a time I thought I would not love again but, the very first time I saw you, you gave me hope that I could still love, that death hasn't taken that away from me. I was raised a bastard and then a man of the Night's Watch, I would never dare dream of having a wife, a son or a family to call my own and you gave it all to me. You gave me everything I have," he clutched at her hands and brought them to his lips, "the strength, the courage, to live, to fight, to love every single day. I feel alive because of you,"
Daenerys stared at him, stunned. Then her lips parted and she whispered, "and I you," her eyes were honest; open and Jon was floored to see that she had truly meant it. She had thought he knew how she felt for him just as he had thought she knew how he felt for her.
Their eyes locked in sheer disbelief of what they have learnt. Then Jon felt happiness beyond measure, a contentment, begin to fill him and he smiled at her as she slowly begin to, at him.
"You're going to be alright, Daenerys," he pressed a kiss to her forehead, glimpsing her eyes close, "we will be alright," and he had been telling himself this but with her, now, Jon truly believed it.
As he made to straighten, he felt her arm snake around the back of his neck and Daenerys pulled him down to her. Eager, Jon allowed her but held his own desires at bay; he would not push her into something she was not yet ready for. She pressed her lips to his, kissing him insistently and with a sort of desperation that melted any apprehension he had, "Jon," she whimpered against his lips, keeping his lips firmly against hers.
Gradually, assured that she wanted his touch, his hand came up to caress her arm which was around his neck. His hand trailed down to her shoulder and he cupped her cheek gently, his tongue darting out to lick her across her lips. She groaned and he felt her hand over his. She guided his hand from her face and onto her breast.
Jon then felt his pants begin to tighten uncomfortably, "Dany," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, reluctantly breaking the kiss, "we can't, you-"
Daenerys muted his words with her lips; unbearably soft, warm and sweet, tantalising him. Jon felt his hand unwittingly began to gently caress her soft breast. She moaned and he felt her nipple harden in his palm, "I want you, Jon, I need you,"
"You're not well yet," he shook his head, nuzzling her nose with his. But she tugged open his royal tunic, exposing the expanse of his chest. His objection died in his throat as her warm soft hands explored his body; her left flat on his back and her right over on his chest. She tugged on his arm and Jon went, on the bed and over her.
For a moment, they merely gazed at the other. Her lilac eyes had a familiar fire in them and Jon could not look away. Suddenly, she pushed him over, into the bed beside her and he found himself on his back.
Jon could hear her short breaths as she rose from the bed. Her warm hands pushed his tunic away from his body and Jon extracted his arms from them. He gazed at her through hooded eyes as she explored his torso with her hands in an intense, almost desperate, desire. She's beautiful. His eyes dropped to her lips unwittingly and Jon reached to pull her to him. But she dipped her head without warning and Jon felt those very lips on his scar; the one over his heart. She was painfully gentle. He gazed down at her to find her eyes looking to him.
"Dany…" he whispered. Her lips lingered on said scar before she proceeded, kissing his numerous scars, her soft hands caressing the side of his torso. As he watched and felt her kiss him lovingly, the shame and sadness he felt for his scars dissipate into love and happiness. He felt her lips linger on a particularly large ugly one over his hip; the one that had not healed properly and was infected.
Then he felt her hand settle abruptly over the bulge of his breeches, gently stroking him. He sucked in a breath as her fingers began to untie his pants deftly. Her eyes darted to his for a quick moment before they dropped to the work at hand. His breathing became shallow and he had to remind himself to breathe as she pulled open his pants, drawing him into her palm.
"Daenerys-" he groaned loudly as she dipped her head and kissed him on the tip, "no-" he hissed his objection; unwilling to allow her to do such a thing for him and at the same time, afraid of what he would do, what his desire for her would drive him to do if she continued her ministration. At the thought that he could hurt her in a heat of the moment, he tensed, his hands fisting the sheets at his side. Daenerys ignored his half-hearted objections and he felt her envelope him. It was warm, wet and incredibly soft. Jon moaned, throwing his head back into the pillows, "Daenerys," his body coiled, tensed, and he could no longer breathe.
Daenerys hummed as she heard him, her mouth and hands working his member slowly, deliberately. He gritted his teeth and willed himself not to touch her. He did not trust himself to, not when he felt like this; giddy with desire, his head blank of any thought. His fists tightened, shaking, as he felt her tongue tease him, running along the base of the length of him before worrying the tip.
As she took him in her mouth again, moving rhythmically, her eyes were fixed on him, one hand under his bum and another caressing his hip. He caught her eye and he froze under her intense gaze, thick with love and lust.
But Daenerys did not give him time to delve into her gaze as she swallowed the length of him, sending tremors through his tensed body. His eyes squeezed shut and he threw his head back. Gods. In that moment, Jon realised then she was the one who had power over him and not the other way around, as he had foolishly thought. With her attentive, deliberate, ministration, it was not long before he felt the familiar fire in his lower abdomen and his body shuddered in preamble of his impending release.
"Dany," he gasped and reached to pull her to him but she deftly finished him before he could. He moaned his release, "Daenerys,"
When his body sank back into bed amidst the sheets, coherent thoughts was slow to return to his mind. He gazed to her, catching her release him from the warm confines of her mouth. She licked the length of him one last time and he let out a shuddering breath, sure he would be hard again if she continued. Her eyes darted to his at his exhalation.
"Come here," Jon said, his voice incredibly hoarse. Daenerys smirked and he cleared his throat, his face burning. This incredible woman.She has provided him pleasure like no one else had. No one else would for a bastard, not even Ygritte who claimed he owned her as she owned him when it was in fact, only the latter. And now, instead of feeling degraded that she had pleasured him this way, Jon could see a calm sensual confidence in her eyes.
She knows exactly what she does to me. Jon groaned internally.
He opened his arm to her, an invitation, and Daenerys slowly scooted up to him. She lay down against his side then, her head on his shoulder, her hand flat on his chest, almost possesive.
He smiled at her, leaning down to kiss her and she pressed her lips to his eagerly. He grunted as he tasted himself. She giggled, nipping his lower lip between hers playfully as she pulled away, "did you like that?" she whispered, "you seemed tensed,"
Jon opened his eyes and blinked. He gazed at her to see her looking up at him solemnly. He laughed nervously, feeling his face heating up, before he admitted, "of course I did…I'm just…not used to it,"
Daenerys laughed, nuzzling his jaw with her nose, her arm tightening around his chest, hugging him to her as she pressed herself into his side.
Jon smiled and hugged her tightly to him, his fingers caressing her back.
Daenerys Targaryen, the most beautiful woman who ever lived. More than half if not all of the men in this world wanted her and I am the one she chose, the one who gets to fall asleep next to her, who gets to hold her, now and for the rest of our lives.
"Thank you Dany," he blurted, his voice hoarse. She looked up at him, her brows furrowed in puzzlement, "for you; for all of you," even if you are hurt and broken. Jon gazed at her gently. He watched, his heart wrenching, as her bright lilac eyes welled up with tears but her lips curved into a small smile. As she ducked her head and nuzzled her face into his chest, Jon felt all the weight and hurt from the past few days fade away. When sleep tugged at him, Jon held Daenerys tighter to him and let himself go, allowing himself to finally rest.
A/N: A little unsure of the timing of the smut and fluff but I guess…Jon and Daenerys and you guys (and I) deserve it after all of that! And well … a little something before things really blow up. Hang onto something guys, we're in our last stretch!
