Hello Everyone! Thank you all for all the comments, they really do give me the motivation to keep writing! Well, most of the comments said they wanted more past story so I wrote another chapter in the past still in Dany's POV. Why? Because I'm trying to write more in her mindset instead of Jon's which comes easier to me for some reason. I'm not sure when the next chapter will come because my inspiration comes to me usually while procrastination and I am on break so I may get a bit stumped. If you all have something you may want to see let me know and I'll see if I can come up with something. So in case, I don't come up with something spontaneous in the next two days Happy New Year!

It had been a fortnight since she arrived beyond the Wall. The day she arrived it had taken nearly an hour for Jon to calm down, but even then the haunted look never left him and he would recoil and nearly break down any time he saw her abdomen. He had led her to the village she had assumed he had been staying with.

The Freefolk had been surprised at seeing her, but completely welcoming, at times it was too much so. They had quickly given her a hut of her own, the proper furs she needed to keep warm and one of the midwives had been quick to examine her, revealing that she was near 7 moons into her pregnancy. Anytime a person saw her, they would praise her and thank her for saving their lives.

Her guilt for her actions hadn't left and hearing any praise hurt. It took everything she had not to snap at any of them.

She hadn't spoken to Jon since her arrival, nor had she seen so much as a glimpse of him.

She had asked one of the Freefolk, Tormund, where she could find him.

"He lives further away from us, never really coming to town," the giant man had answered.

She could tell the man had wanted to tell her more and part of her wanted to ask about it. But she wasn't ready to hear it, to know what state the father of her child had been in since her death. And if the day of her arrival had been any indication, it wasn't good.

She trudges slowly through the snow, having refused both a horse and help from the Freefolk to get to Jon's hut. It's completely bare-bones, seeming to be barely put together, and she can't even see a sign of a fire. His white direwolf Ghost, if she remembers correctly, is laying outside the door. His ear perks up and he turns his head to look at her, quickly trotting to her side.

She extends her hand out and the wolf quickly pushes his head into her hand. As she runs her hand through his fur she hears his whines of delight, especially when his nose touches her abdomen.

"Where is he, Ghost?" she asks the animal and he leads her to the door.

She raises her hand to knock and hesitates. Her hand trembles as it stays mid-air. She is a dragon and she shouldn't be afraid. She takes a deep breath and knocks on the door, refusing to be a coward.

No answer.

She tries again.

No answer.

A sense of panic invades her and she gives the door a push.

Just as she thought, the fire had long died out and the cold invaded every corner of the room. A quick glance around she sees a simple table and chair in a corner and a cot on the other side of the room, nothing else. And in the cot, she sees a shivering form.

Ghost quickly pushes past her and crawls next to his master, trying to provide some source of heat. She also quickly moves towards where she assumes his fires tend to be made and using the techniques the Freefolk had taught her and starts a fire. As the room lightens and warms up she walks towards Jon.

He's a shivering mess, clutching onto his barely-there blanket.

"No... no… I'm sorry… I'm sorry," he mutters. "A babe… gods… Dany… my Dany… our babe…"

Sobs start coming and she can't let him continue to suffer. She carefully lowers herself to the ground and tries to shake him awake. He jumps, bolting up to sit, his eyes opening and frantically looking around almost crazed like.

When he sees her it's like the first time he saw her a fortnight ago.

"Dany… I'm sorry…please… just let me… I can't … I dreamt that we had a babe… that I… no… no…" he clutches his head. "I killed you both… tell me it isn't true… please… I… I just want to join you…please let me…"

He thinks she's a hallucination. That nothing that happened days ago occurred. She reaches for one of his hands, prying it off his head and places it on her abdomen where their child gives a firm kick.

He instantly freezes. Turning his head to gaze at where his hand lays. He begins to shake.

"It wasn't… you're…" he looks up at her face, seeming to be taking her in. "You're real… you're really here…" he moves his hand in an attempt to caress her face but she immediately shoves it away, unable to allow him that.

"I am," she says trying to stand but unable to do so. She curses and she watches as he quickly comes to understand what's wrong and moves to assist her.

She reluctantly allows him to help her up and guide her to the lonely chair in the room. As soon as he does he also seems to understand she wants him away from her, both to her relief and ire.

She looks at him and he looks just as bad as he did a fortnight ago.

"You're here," he mutters again in awe.

"Jon, don't you remember you saw me two weeks ago?" she asks.

She can see that he doesn't.

"I… I…" he stutters. "I thought it was a…"

"Dream? Hallucination? Ghost?" she says.

"Yes," he answers hanging his head down in shame. The fact that he doesn't clarify which one means at one point he's had all of them.

"We need to talk," she says and he nods, still seeming to be in disbelief, but beginning to come to terms with it.

"You… you told me something about Volantis," he says, trying to recall their previous conversation.

"I did, Drogon took me to the temple of the Lord of Light and they brought me, brought us back to life," she says caressing her abdomen, which is responded by a kick against her hand.

"Did… did you know?" he asks, gesturing towards her abdomen.

"You mean when you killed me?" she asks coldly and watches as he grimaces but nods. "I did. I knew since Winterfell, before the battle, before I risked my life to save yours before I fell off my dragon and had to fight against a horde of the dead while you ran to protect your brother without ever taking a moment to consider my safety. I knew as I held my oldest advisor as he died. I knew when I came to you after a feast where everyone sang your praises and isolated me. I knew as I begged you not to reveal your identity to the one person who hated me and wanted me gone more than Cersei, even after I had bared myself to her and told her I loved her brother."

"You told Sansa?" he interrupts, seeming surprised by this.

"Yes. But it made no difference, I was just the foreign whore who forced you to bend the knee," she says sarcastically.

"You didn't force me," he says.

"You had me fooled then. You had the entire North fooled because never once did you correct their assumptions or defend me from their attacks," she rages before taking a calming breath. "It doesn't matter…" she mutters to herself caressing her abdomen, loving each and every movement she feels. "I knew through every loss, through the poisoning attempts, and finally through your ultimate betrayal," she sees his confusion. "Ah, you didn't know that either. Varys was poisoning my food after Missandei's death."

He seems shaken by her nonchalance but he seems to push it to the side.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She smiles sadly at the expected question. She stares into the fire, not wanting to look at him.

"Since I found out, to the moment you pierced my heart with your dagger I wanted to tell you. I had hoped… I had hoped you could show me the love you repeatedly told me you had for me and I could reveal just how right you had been," her voice catches and she blinks away the tears forming in her eyes. "Which is why I'm here."

She looks at him, making eye contact and refusing to look away.

"I wanted to kill you, part of me still does. But this child, our child deserves to know you. Especially if I don't survive," she says and she watches as he once again goes pale.

"No…no you… you can't," he stutters, and she ignores the way her heart swells at his concern.

"You and I both lack mothers, Jon, and we both know why," she says softly, trying not to sound cruel, but he recoils, nevertheless.

"No. You can't die, not again, you were brought back," Jon says.

"And maybe that's why," she says, "Maybe she didn't deserve to die, and I came back to make sure she lived."

"No, no," he suddenly kneels in front of her taking her hands in his. "No, I refuse to accept that. You… you both deserve to live."

"No, I don't, not after what I did," she admits feeling the weight of the guilt of all the death and destruction she caused.

"We were at war… you were grieving… you had lost so much," he tries to justify.

"There are no excuses for what I did," she stops him, gripping his hands as tight as she can. "I had vowed to myself I would never become my father, that I would never be Queen of the Ashes and that's exactly what I became."

He looks at her sadly, both of them carrying the burden of what occurred that day.

"I have no excuse either," he mutters.

She pulls her hands away.

"No. Neither of us does," she agrees.

"What now?" he asks.

"I don't know. I don't know, Jon," she admits.

"I know you don't trust me, that you don't believe me, but I love you Dany and if it takes showing you every single day for the rest of my life that I regret what I did then I will do it," he vows.

"One day at a time."

"One day at a time," he agrees with a small smile.