Chapter Thirty-six

Jon watched in awe as a white-hot light burst forth from Jaime Lannister's hand, tearing through the Night King and spreading out in all directions. The light devoured the darkness, illuminating the sky as brightly as a midsummer sun.

Jon shut his eyes as the light moved right through him, warming every inch of his body with its godlike power. For an instant, he felt strong and revitalized, as if he possessed a touch of the divine. Around him, he heard the telltale rattle of a thousand wights falling to the ground. He wanted to look, but couldn't, for fear that the light would blind him.

Time seemed to stand still as the world swirled around him in chaos. Jon didn't know exactly what had happened. He had seen the glow from Jaime Lannister's hand from far across the battlefield. It had been like a beacon in the darkness. Jon had followed that beacon, and once he had discovered its source, he'd known they were saved. Despite the Kingslayer's reputation, he had chosen to sacrifice his own life for the good of Westeros, and Jon stood in awe of him. Perhaps Jaime Lannister was more like his brother Tyrion after all, and less like his sister Cersei. Jon knew there was a lesson in Jaime's heroism, one he would not soon forget.

It wasn't until the world went dark behind his closed eyes that Jon finally opened them again. It took a moment for his vision to adjust, but when it did, what he saw made his heart stop. The rivers of dragonfire still burned all around, but every last wight had fallen and not a single White Walker remained. The world was deathly quiet except for the sizzling and sputtering of the flames. It was as if not a living soul had the wherewithal to even breathe.

Not many men still stood, but those who did appeared beaten and bedraggled, at least on the outside. All the men before him stood tall and proud as if the light had coursed through them just as it had coursed through Jon, healing their wounds and their spirits from the inside out. Although the living had been victorious, for a moment, none of them could seem to celebrate. The shock was too great. They had all expected to die on the battlefield, but somehow, they had survived.

It was Rhaegal who finally broke the tension, swooping down toward the earth and screeching loudly into the night. All the men turned and watched as he alighted on the ground, unaffected by the flames still burning all around them. As soon as Rhaegal sank his talons into the earth, he let out a tremendous roar, and suddenly, all the men cheered as one.

Jon finally felt the thrill of victory coursing through his veins, and he threw a fist into the air, shouting his joy from the deepest recesses of his soul.

It was then that he finally saw Daenerys. She climbed from Rhaegal's back, landing soundly on her feet. When she turned toward him, there was a look of triumph in her eyes, and all Jon wanted was to rush forward and pull her into his arms. He knew he shouldn't, knew this wasn't the time or place to express his affection, but he couldn't help himself. He loved her, and he needed to show her just how happy he was that she was still alive.

Without allowing himself a moment to reconsider, Jon sheathed Longclaw and headed toward Daenerys. She met him halfway and threw herself into his arms, much to Jon's relief. He had feared that she might not welcome a public show of affection, but she was just as desperate to be near him as he was to be near her.

Jon didn't know what he had expected from the men around them, but he was more than a little surprised when a great roar of approval rose up from among the crowd. He held onto Daenerys for dear life, overcome with joy and relief. She held on to him just as tightly, and Jon never wanted to let her go.

But he knew they could not stay that way forever. He didn't know how long they stood there, holding each other, reveling in the feel of just being alive, but eventually, Daenerys pulled away. She stepped back from the circle of his arms and looked up at him with a renewed sense of calm and clarity, every bit the queen.

The noise around them was deafening, the men cheering and laughing and congratulating each other on a battle well fought. It gave Jon and Daenerys a chance to share a private moment, their words drowned out by the surrounding chaos.

"We won, Jon," Daenerys said, her voice deceptively soft.

"We did." Jon smiled broadly. He didn't think he'd ever been happier in all his life.

Daenerys glanced around them, assessing everything within view. When she looked at Jon again, she said, "We've won the most important battle, but our fight isn't over. Cersei Lannister still sits on the Iron Throne, and I don't think she will simply stand aside and let either one of us take her place."

"She's lost most of her army. Even the Golden Company was no match for the army of the dead. Perhaps she'll see the wisdom in working together for peace."

Daenerys' eyes narrowed on him, ever so slightly. "You really don't know her at all, do you?"

"I'd like to think that even Cersei Lannister can't be completely heartless. After all, the notorious Kingslayer just laid down his life for us. Maybe his sister has a heart too."

Daenerys shook her head. Her eyes softened, and she looked at Jon as if he was a particularly naïve child. "Oh, Jon. How little you know about the world."

"I know more than you think."

"If that's true, then tell me what happened to Jaime Lannister. Tell me how he was able to destroy the Night King when no one else could. Do you think he was the Prince Who Was Promised?"

Jon didn't know what to think. He was still too much in shock. "I . . . I honestly don't know. I can barely think at the moment."

Suddenly, there was a great commotion to Jon's left, and he turned his head to see some of his men lifting Jaime Lannister's body off the ground. They laid him across one of their horses, being careful not to jostle him. It seemed as if the Kingslayer's lifelong enemies had suddenly gained a deep respect for him. They weren't going to leave his body to freeze there in the snow. They were going to take him with them, see to it that he received a hero's funeral, and Jon wholeheartedly approved.

"Take him back to Winterfell," Jon commanded. "We shall see to it that he is given all the honors he deserves."

The man holding the horse's reigns replied, "Yes, Your Grace."

Jon turned his attention back to Daenerys. She was eyeing him curiously, and he wondered what she was thinking. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Your Grace? You may be a bit inexperienced, at least at ruling, but that title suits you."

"I'm not the only one it suits, . . . Your Grace."

A tender smile spread across Daenerys' lips. "It would be a terrible shame for either one of us to have to give it up, don't you think?"

"Of course, but what choice do we have? There is only one Iron Throne, and it's already occupied."

Daenerys' smile broadened. "It won't be occupied forever. And when we have relieved Cersei Lannister of her duties, perhaps we should share the Iron Throne together."

Jon's heart skipped a single beat. He wasn't quite sure what Daenerys was proposing, but he knew, whatever it was, he was going to have a difficult time refusing her. "We can't rule all Seven Kingdoms together, Targaryen and Stark. That isn't how it works. At best, I could remain King in the North and you could rule the remaining kingdoms yourself."

Daenerys ignored Jon's objections. She moved toward him, only stopping when she was a hairsbreadth away. She tilted her head back and looked up at him, her vibrant eyes entrancing in the firelight.

Jon could feel the heat rising off her body, and it did unsettling things to him. Even though they were surrounded by dozens of men, he wanted to take her in his arms again and kiss her senseless. And the look in her eyes told him that's exactly what she wanted him to do. But Jon resisted the urge, holding back, determined to stay in control for as long as he could.

"I don't want to rule Westeros alone," Daenerys said. "The Seven Kingdoms need a king and a queen to rule them, and I choose you as my king, Jon Snow."

The breath caught in Jon's throat, and all he could do was stare down at her, his mind clouded with uncertainty. Although he was the rightful heir to the throne, he had no desire to pursue his claim. Daenerys had been born to rule, not him. The only reason he wanted the north was because it was what his people wanted. After everything they had sacrificed for him and his family, he owed it to them to respect their wishes. Besides, the north was his home, and he wanted to protect it. In return, he was more than happy to relinquish his claim on the remaining kingdoms. He had thought it was a reasonable compromise that Daenerys would accept without question, but apparently, he'd been wrong.

Jon finally forced himself to reply. "I . . . I can't," he said.

"And why not?"

"Because you're my aunt, and we can't be together again."

Daenerys broke his gaze, looking at the men surrounding them. When her eyes met Jon's again, she said, "No one here has any objections to our being together. Don't you see that?"

"That's because they don't know the truth."

"And why should they?"

"Because lies are what caused all of this madness to begin with. Everyone in King's Landing lies, and no good has ever come of it. It's time to stop lying and start telling the truth. To everyone. You know that I love you, Daenerys. I always will. But I can't be your husband. It wouldn't be right."

It took every last ounce of willpower Jon possessed, but somehow, he managed to pull away from her. He stepped back, putting a comfortable distance between them. He could tell that Daenerys was hurt by his rejection, but there was nothing he could do to comfort her. He had already made up his mind before they'd faced the Night King, and nothing had changed. He could not marry Daenerys Targaryen even though it was what he wanted more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life.

"If you want to tell the world the truth, Jon, then tell the world the truth. I promise you, it won't make any difference. Look around you. These men are devoted to you. You led them to victory, saved every last one of them, and their families, from certain death. You could demand a blood sacrifice from them, and they'd gladly give it to you. They want you on the throne, and it doesn't matter to them how you get there, as long as you get there in the end."

Jon shook his head. "No. I don't want them to sacrifice anything more for me, and I don't want to rule the Seven Kingdoms. All I want is to stay here at Winterfell and live a quiet life. And they must content themselves with that. You must content yourself with that."

Daenerys reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. Her skin felt impossibly warm in the cold winter air. Jon closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of her touch for one brief moment. When he opened his eyes again, she was still staring up at him, and he couldn't find the strength to pull away.

Without thinking, Jon reached up and covered her hand with his own, and Daenerys took that as a signal to go further. She pushed herself up on her toes and closed the space between them, kissing him soundly.

Jon's whole body began to tremble. He wanted to push her away, but he simply didn't have the willpower. Driven by pure instinct, he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer. He kissed her deeply, passionately, the world around them disappearing as he lost himself in her kiss. Suddenly, he didn't care who was watching. All he cared about was Daenerys and being as close to her as possible. He had seen too much death and destruction for one day, and his soul longed for comfort. It longed for the woman he loved.

If given a choice, Jon would have stayed that way forever, but he didn't have a choice. Far too soon, Daenerys broke away, pulling back just enough to look up into his eyes again. "Do you hear that?" she whispered. "Do you?"

Jon didn't know what she was talking about. He couldn't hear anything but the beating of his own heart. It took him a moment to finally hear what Daenerys heard, clapping and cheering, louder than it had been when he'd simply taken her in his arms.

Without letting go of Daenerys, Jon turned his head and looked all around him. The men, his men, looked on approvingly. Of course, they didn't know the truth, but even so, it was startling to see just how many of them seemed to approve of his affection for the Dragon Queen. Then again, she had just helped them win a war, and he was sure that was affecting their judgement.

Jon looked back at Daenerys. Softly, he said, "This proves nothing."

"It proves that we won't face as much opposition as you think."

"We will when the truth is revealed."

"I think you're wrong, Jon Snow. So for now, I think we should agree to disagree. Don't you?"

Jon was in no mood to argue. More than anything, he wanted to get back to Winterfell, to reunite with his family, to tell them that the war was over and that they would all live to see another day. So he grudgingly agreed with Daenerys. "For now," he replied.

Daenerys' lips quirked in a triumphant smile, and Jon was tempted to remind her that he had only agreed to postpone the argument, not to accept her proposal. But he held his tongue, knowing it wouldn't do him any good to argue with her at that moment.

Before he could say another word, Daenerys pulled away, putting a respectable distance between them. "It's a long ride to Winterfell," she said. "It will take the men at least a day or two to reach it, but you need to get there as soon as possible. Your people are waiting for you. Join me on Rhaegal, and I'll take you there now."

Jon looked around again. He had not seen Arya or Ser Davos in hours, or Ser Jorah, for that matter. He didn't want to abandon the battlefield before he knew who had survived the fight. "No," he said, "you go. I have to find Arya before I head back. And I need to talk to the men, get a full report. It will take some time."

"Then I will stay here as well. We can send a raven to Winterfell for now. And I will go find Cersei Lannister and give her the news of her brother's passing."

A sense of unease settled in the pit of Jon's stomach. He had faced wildlings and White Walkers, and yet, the idea of facing Cersei Lannister with such tragic news terrified him beyond measure. He wondered if it was wise for Daenerys to be the one to tell Cersei. "Are you sure you want to do that alone? From all accounts, he was much more than a brother to her."

"Which is why she deserves to hear it from me, one queen to another."

"Promise me you'll be careful," Jon said. "There's no telling what she might do in her grief."

"I am always careful, Jon Snow." And with that, Daenerys turned away, returning to Rhaegal and quickly mounting him.

Jon watched as she took off into the sky. As always, he feared that he might never see her again. He held his breath as he watched her fly away. When he could no longer see her small form hidden behind Rhaegal's wings, he went off in search of Arya.