There was something about the anticipation of lovemaking. The way two people could know exactly where they would be that night. They could feel the memories from their last time together. Where hands had curled into hair or pulled hips closer together. Where kisses had burned a glorious path down necks and torsos, up ankles and legs, and bruised lips with heated passion that toed the line of ravenous need. They could hear whispered promises past of want and love, and could await that fleeting moment when the world melted away until it was just the two of them.
It was a wondrous feeling, anticipation. Second only to the actual act it preceded. Unfortunately, Dany had not experienced the last part yet.
Nothing in particular was to blame for this, in her irritated opinion, serious lack of intimate action. Although she would just as well reason that everything was to blame. Tormund and Willa returned after foraging that day as promised. While Tormund's report on his journey was similar to Birger's, they had talked well into the night.
"Whether or not the slavers coming here were a single event, this was the right plan," Tormund assured a troubled Dany, who had voiced her concerns about the potential that she had overreacted in the wake of Dorand's death.
"Will everyone else think that, though?" she mused.
He shook his head. "Of course not. Doesn't mean it's not right. We're all so stationary these days, news never gets around. We should know each other. Whether or not there's any threat to us or to our dragons, there's no reason for us to go back to being strangers. In fact, there aren't enough of us left to be strangers. If this plan is doing anything, Dany, it's reminding the free folk of who we are again," said Tormund proudly.
Dany continued that conversation with a lighter heart than before, smiling every time she remembered that Tormund had said "our" dragons, but by the time it was finished, any ideas she and Jon had had about how to spend the night dissipated in a wave of tiredness. Since then, she felt like they had not had a spare moment to ever revisit those ideas.
The second day after Tormund's return came Ulf's. All of the group, as both parties before, still alive and well. With it came similar news: "It was not as if ice dragons were new and of course we should protect ourselves from slavers and any other invaders." Life in Shadowedge had since been creeping back to normal, albeit quite a busy normal. The return of so many villagers meant many more conversations to have about the future of Dany's plan, which she had no idea how to answer ("wait and see" sounded idiotic). It also meant great many more voices speaking out against Inniq's vitriol. His "little scouts" had dwindled in numbers, and while in Shadowedge, Dany often saw him skulking nearby rather than boldly proclaiming his ideas about "exactly what to do with these beasts." An increase in people had also seemingly driven the shadowcat away, and nobody had run across more tracks since Njal's attack. Dany, however, could not shake the feeling she was still being watched from the woods.
Normalcy, and any conversations Dany had been trying to avoid, were then quickly interrupted by a horrible cough that had been plaguing Rose for nearly two weeks. Her daughter, Willa attested, sounded like a tiny seal pup from the western shores. Whatever a seal was, for Dany had never seen one (Tormund described it as a bald dog with fish feet, which seemed ridiculous), she decided that she never wanted to meet it, live near it, or hear it in any capacity. Her poor daughter stayed awake well into the night, whining and coughing without being able to settle down. Jon and Dany had taken turns sitting up with her, soothing her as their eyes briefly shut from abject exhaustion, only to be startled open by yet another coughing and wheezing fit. Their days were punctuated by grunts and mutters, and tempers flared easily. Any time at night spent together tended to involve moodily facing in opposite directions of each other.
Worked into this flurry was Dany's continued insistence that Inniq was hiding something and Jon's continued insistence that she drop it and focus on their real problems, as if a subdued and grumpy Inniq (who could not set a snare, but somehow snared a fowl and fought off a shadowcat for it?) was nothing but an annoying bit of mud on his boot. She was beginning to feel badly about being so dismissive of Jon and Willa's earlier suspicions, but was equally as irritated that no one would listen to her now.
After the latest incident involving carelessly discarded boots, cramping, and an audible mutter of annoyance from Jon ("for once, just stop your griping"), Dany had left her husband behind with Ghost and a few choice insults ("tokikof," "govak," "Gwe kerikh yeri zhokwa nhare she yeri choyo"), and took Rose out to Embar. She didn't care if it was reckless, if it was snowing, or if the resident shadowcat she was sure was still around could leap out and eat the three of them. They weren't staying at home.
Willa wore an annoyed expression when Dany arrived at her door on horseback, windswept from galloping through the woods with one hand wrapped tightly around an amused Rose, but she said nothing as she helped her friend off of Embar and led her inside.
"Dany - Dany! Did you hear anything I just said?"
Dany started awake, blinking rapidly to try and make sense of where she was. "Hm, yes. No - I mean - what did you say?"
Pursing her lips, Willa replied, "I said that Rose sounds much better today. I was going to ask if you guys were getting more sleep, but you answered my question."
Unabashedly, Dany stretched in her seat as if to illustrate the point. "She coughs more at night. Anway, even when I'm not sitting with her I can't sleep." She paused for a moment, watching Rose playing on Willa's bed. "Willa," she asked, not really sure why she was even talking, "is it possible to feel exhausted and completely anxious and frustrated at the same time?"
Willa smirked. "Those words could have several meanings," she replied. "As your healer, I could use more information."
"Stop being so nosy," grumbled Dany. She folded her arms over herself, resting them on her belly and feeling the baby kick.
The cramping was still mildly uncomfortable, but if Dany was being completely honest with herself, it wasn't the cramping that was really bothering her. Physically, she felt absolutely decimated and unable to recover. For the first time in quite a while, she desperately missed heat. It had been so long since she felt anything warmer than a fire in the hearth or Jon's body next to hers in bed. She yearned to feel the blaze against her skin that came from a beating desert sun, to break out in a sweat again that didn't run cold later. The more into her pregnancy she went, the greater the need for true heat seemed to become.
A knock echoed in her thoughts. Dany's eyes refocused as Willa hopped up to answer her door.
"I don't think she wants to see you right now," she said to the doorway. Leaning to stare around her friend with narrowed eyes, Dany saw a snowy Jon standing outside.
He muttered something in response to which Willa replied, "Your choice, I suppose," and allowed him inside.
"Papa!" Rose exclaimed gleefully upon seeing her father.
"Hi, my Rosie!" Jon greeted his daughter, brushing long, brown curls away from her smiling face. He stopped when he saw his wife watching. "Dany, I-"
"Willa was right," Dany remarked icily. "Why didn't you just wait?"
"Because…" he reached out to touch her cheek and she shifted away. Jon sighed exasperatedly and dropped his hand. Eyes still narrowed, Dany surveyed him coldly and watched as he looked up at the ceiling and rolled his eyes. "Give this a rest, Dany. Here, see?" he thrust something at her, "Just go along with me for a minute, okay?"
In his outstretched hand was a winter rose from outside their barn. The bush had stayed in bloom since Rose was born, even through the harsh changes of weather they'd had. Despite herself, Dany smiled as she brushed her fingers over the delicate blue petals, remembering the last time Jon had given her a rose like this. Eyes now round instead of narrowed, she looked at him and then to Willa, who waved an errant hand at the couple. "Go on, then," she said brusquely, biting her lip to contain what Dany knew was a knowing smile, "I think I can look after your daughter for an afternoon by now."
"I found this a week ago with Kolla when she was teaching me her hunting style. I was waiting to tell you for when you could actually enjoy it. But now seemed like a good time too," Jon explained, hand-in-hand with Dany as he led her through the faint beginnings of the foothills north of Shadowedge. The trees were sparse here, and it was quieter than in the woods. Dany supposed that less critters liked to make their home in an area with such little shelter.
After another few minutes of walking uphill, Jon stopped in front of a low, rocky ridge. "Do you see it?" he asked.
Dropping his hand as if it would help her eyesight, Dany squinted at the landscape, unsure of what she was supposed to be looking for. Except...that looks off, she thought, her eyes coming to rest on an odd dip a ways ahead of them. If their months of travel through Westeros had taught her anything, it was how to spot shelter.
Although she was still partially determined not to speak with him, his palpable excitement was infectious. "Is that a cave?" Dany asked, a little incredulous given how few she knew existed in these parts.
Jon tilted his head side to side and said, grinning mysteriously, "Sort of…" He took her hand again and led her towards the dip.
It was definitely a cave. A bit of nostalgic giddiness began to take over, and the spring that seemed to have left Dany's step ages ago had suddenly returned. Jon slowed when they reached the entrance, and guided Dany to step down.
"Careful," he said, "it's a little slippery."
As she made her way through the mouth of the cave, Dany leaned back to make up for the steep path. It was slippery. Instead of being icy like so many other paths around their home, it was wet, as if a fresh rain had recently come instead of these consistent flurries.
Being immersed in the pitch dark of a cave was surprisingly relaxing. Unable to see, Dany allowed her other senses to wander freely. She could hear Jon beside her, smell the damp air, feel the shift in temperature from the frozen land above. It felt...pleasant.
"Why is it so warm?" she whispered to him, as if not to disturb the complete and utter still.
"You'll see," he replied. He took her hand and brought them further inside, his fantastic memory for land confidently guiding him in the darkness.
Soon the cave opened up into a wider chamber with a low ceiling. A tiny stream of light was filtering in from somewhere above them, casting a soft glow that outlined the different rock formations and reflected on a steaming surface in front of them. Jon let go of her hand and melted away from sight, though Dany could hear him knocking something together behind her.
"Aha," said Jon triumphantly, stepping back from a small fire that began to give the room an orange hue and fill it with shadows. It, too, reflected on the steaming surface of what Dany could now see was a pool of clear water much like an over-large bath.
Puzzled, but also very keen on the discovery of hot water, she turned back to Jon and cocked her head. "Hot water? In the middle of the North?"
"Not common, but there's a few places like this. It's safe to use, not flesh-boiling or anything," he said. Looking a bit sheepish, he added, "I thought - you know, with these past few weeks and how you've been feeling - it might help a little…with things."
"And how have I been feeling?"
"Dany, you're by far the strongest person I know. But if these weeks have been taking a toll on me, who's not pregnant, I can't imagine what they've been doing to you."
Dany smiled, brimming with a wave of affection for her husband. She walked back to him and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as possible. "Thank you," she murmured into his chest.
"Go on, then," he whispered into her hair.
With possibly the least amount of decorum she had ever managed, given her eagerness to feel actual hot water, Dany stripped down to nothing but her skin and tiptoed over to the edge of the water. Noticing that she had not been followed, she turned to look at Jon again. For a second, he wore a peculiar expression on his face, as if he was lost in a far away memory.
"Coming?" she asked, breaking his trance and watching him give his head a shake.
"Aye. Aye, I am," said Jon, quickly pulling off his own clothes and crossing over to Dany.
The first step into the water was delightful, followed by a second step of bliss. As she sunk down onto a submerged rock, feeling the heat envelop her, Dany wondered how she could not possibly be dreaming. Water that couldn't get cold, skin that didn't prickle when it felt the air. Her husband sliding into the water behind her, wrapping his arms around her and cradling their baby as he kissed her neck.
Only one word stayed in her mind, the name for this incredible feeling of revival: perfection.
Heat was seeping into her soul and she took to it like a sapling stretching towards the sunlight. Closing her eyes, Dany could picture a warm summer day in a bright garden, where the pointed leaves of a lemon tree drifted lazily in the midst of a breeze. The house, however, was not made of stone or red doors, but was a little brown one made of wood. With Jon's furs hung outside and Embar grazing on the tough lichen front. Smoke came out of the strangely-angled chimney and she could just hear a child's laugh from inside followed by a father's low, husky voice. Even in the sunlight, a nice layer of snow lay on the ground around the house, the familiar beaten path to the door still etched upon it.
"Mmm," she sighed, leaning back into Jon's embrace and tilting her head on his shoulder. She felt as he pulled one hand out of the water to stroke her nose.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly, now tracing over the lines of her face.
"Home," she breathed, eyes still closed, enjoying the beautiful picture in her mind.
Jon's fingers paused on one cheek and he absently brushed away a stray hair. "Do you miss it, Dany?"
At this, Dany's eyes fluttered open and she reached up to stroke Jon's cheek as well, smiling. "How can I miss it?" she asked, locking her eyes with his, "I'm here every day."
"I meant-"
"You mean do I miss Essos?" Jon nodded, still brushing away the same hair. Softly, she sighed again and molded herself to him even more. "No, I don't," she said truthfully, "I miss being warm sometimes - a lot, lately. Warm without getting cold later. But this is still my home. And getting to share hot water at my home with my husband is quite possibly my idea of perfection.
"And," she added in a dropped tone, turning around to face Jon and straddle him as gracefully as possible, "this is as well."
She kissed him. Full of intention and unbridled fervor. Twining her fingers in his hair, she tried to put a lot of unsaid things into this kiss as well; like apologies for her earlier string of insults. She could tell, as Jon wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up to position them both, that he was doing the same. Forgiven, she kissed, I love you and everything is forgiven.
And when they were joined, clinging to each other with concupiscent desire, Dany amended her idea of perfection.
Dothraki for this chapter:
"Tokikof": Idiot
"Govak": Fucker
"Gwe kerikh yeri zhokwa nhare she yeri choyo": Go stick your big head up your ass
