Daenerys hesitates for a moment when she sees the dark head of hair in the bath, but it does not deter her from walking further into the room.
As she moves closer, her footsteps draw his attention, his eyes opening and his face turning to her. "Your Grace," his eyes widen when he sees her, and he sinks a little further into the water. "I apologize. After your battle against the Lannisters and with Ser Jorah's return, I assumed you had already retired for the evening."
Her eyes narrow as she comes to a stop beside the bath, "Ser Jorah is a good friend and advisor, nothing more."
"I'm sorry, Your Grace. I didn't mean to presume -"
"Ser Jorah has been in love with me since before my husband was dead. I am well aware of his feelings for me, but I do not return them. Not that it is any concern of yours," she informs him as she slips out of her sandals and hangs her drying cloth on one of the hooks.
"If you are to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms one day, then I do believe it is my concern. A knight exiled for slavery is not exactly a suitable choice for king," he replies, eyes on her face as her hands reach for the knot holding her dressing gown closed. Once he sees the material start to loosen around her body, he closes his eyes and turns his face in the opposite direction.
The corner of her mouth lifts at his modesty; she would have had to command any other man to look away from her, and even then he would have been trying to catch a glimpse of her. She quickly hangs her robe beside the drying cloth before stepping into the warm water and settling across from him. "You may open your eyes now."
Jon hesitates for a moment longer, wondering if this is some kind of test, before tentatively opening them and glancing in the direction of her voice. Only her head and shoulders are above the warm bath water, silver curls pulled up on top of her head, and the shimmering of the water and dim candlelight prevent him from making out any details below the surface. Despite his refusal to bend the knee to her, she must trust him to some extent if she is willing to be naked and alone with him in the same room.
"Ser Jorah has more than made up for his previous crimes. He has helped me to free thousands of people in Slaver's Bay."
"And yet you don't see him as a viable option for your king either."
She sighs, violet eyes turning down to the steaming water, "You are not wrong. The lords of Westeros would not respect an exiled knight from a lesser noble house as their king. In order to form alliances and gain the support of the people here, I will need to marry a man from one of the noble houses."
"I heard that the Greyjoys helped you to get here from Slaver's Bay."
"They did," she confirms, eyes flicking back up to his face in question.
"I grew up with Theon. He always had a way with the ladies. I know it isn't my place, Your Grace, but I must inform you that the Greyjoys cannot be trusted."
"I have no intention of marrying Theon Greyjoy, but I can assure you that he isn't the same man you grew up with. He has paid for what he did to your family."
"And those who betrayed your family? You would let them live?" he asks though he is already certain of her answer.
"No."
They sit in silence for a few moments before he returns to the subject of her marriage. "Edmure Tully is married to a Frey. The Hightower men are all married as well, I believe. Cersei eliminated the Tyrells. The Baratheons are all dead. The Sand Snakes murdered the Dornish royal family before they allied with you, from what I hear. So that leaves… Robin Arryn, a sickly little boy, and Tyrion Lannister, the dwarf who was to be executed for King Joffrey's murder."
"You seem to be forgetting an important house," she points out.
"Well, there are many Freys who would marry you without question, Your Grace, but I fear they are more traitorous than the Greyjoys."
Dany stares at him for a long time, waiting for him to acknowledge his own place on the list of suitors from the noble houses of Westeros. When it does not come, she says, "I was referring to the Starks."
"If you want to marry Bran, I am afraid you will have to go north of the wall and find him."
"I do not wish to marry your brother."
Jon lets out a laugh then, "You may have been a bit preoccupied with repeatedly asking me to bend the knee when we first met, but surely your Hand has informed you that I am a bastard."
Her violet eyes remain fixed on his face, studying him. He suddenly begins to feel self-conscious, though he had stopped being bothered by his status as a bastard long ago, and he finds himself wishing that he could be worthy of her, captivated by more than just her beauty.
"Your Grace, with your permission, I will take my leave and allow you to finish your bath in peace," he finally says, deciding it best to depart before he makes a fool of himself and gives her further reason to keep him captive here on Dragonstone.
"You may go," she replies.
Not wanting her to see the scars on his abdomen, he waits for her to avert her gaze.
She, however, simply continues to watch him, knowing full well that he is waiting for her to give him the same courtesy that he had her. "I thought you were leaving?" she prompts when he does not move.
"You intend to watch me, Your Grace?"
"I'm sure you have nothing to be ashamed of," Daenerys answers, moving through the water to be closer to him. "You seem rather uncomfortable with nudity, Jon Snow."
"And you seem rather comfortable with it, Your Grace," he observes, willing himself to keep his eyes on her face even though she does at least attempt to keep her body below the level of the water.
She takes a seat again a few feet down the curve of the round pool from him, "You never answered my question."
"You really want to marry me, Your Grace?" he lifts his eyebrows skeptically.
"I never asked you to marry me," she replies, and he tries not to be disappointed after the hope had built inside him that she could truly want him. She doesn't notice this, however, as her eyes fall to the water over his chest. "I was referring to the question I asked before Ser Jorah interrupted us. About the knife in your heart."
Noticing her gaze, Jon crosses his arms over his chest beneath the water.
"I suppose that is my answer." Her eyes rise from the water back to his face, and his discomfort is evident. Taking pity on him, she changes the subject. "You were not afraid of Drogon."
"I guess I just assumed that if you had wanted me dead for refusing to bend the knee, you would have done it earlier," he answers, lowering his arms slightly.
"No one has laid a hand on one of my children before, at least not since they grew too big to be carried."
"I was just trying to assess how hard it would be to take one of them back north with me."
"You were going to take one of my dragons?" Fire burns in her eyes as she glares at him, though her voice is ice. "Perhaps you really are mad, Jon Snow."
"I was joking, Your Grace," he quickly realizes his mistake. "I know that doing so would be certain death, whether from the dragon itself if I tried to ride it or from you when you found out."
She lets out a shaky breath and looks away from him. Though her children were big enough now to defend themselves, she is still very possessive of them ever since she had been betrayed in Quarth.
"They really are incredible, Daenerys," he lets his hand drift toward her on the surface of the water, though he isn't close enough to make contact with her shoulder. Not quite sure what she would do if he were to touch her, he makes no attempt to move closer.
"You haven't even seen what they can do in battle."
"I can imagine. That is why I'm here asking for your assistance."
"And as I told you before, I shall fight for the North when you bend the knee." She turns her face back to him, eyes steeled against her previous emotions. "So it appears that we have reached a stalemate, Jon Snow. I can't help you when you refuse to acknowledge my rightful place as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
"I suppose this means that I am now your prisoner."
"I will not take you prisoner. If this army of the dead you speak of is real, your people stand no chance without you there to lead them. After I have dealt with Cersei, I will bring the North under my reign… or whatever is left of it."
"We shall lose without you, Your Grace, and the army of the dead will only continue to grow in number. You want to make the world a better place; if you come North, you can do that. We can eliminate the Night King before he grows too powerful to be stopped," he entreats once more, no longer caring about his scars as he comes to stand before her in the water. She takes in the scars covering his torso, though she is careful not to show a reaction. "The dead are real, Your Grace."
"You said they were monsters whose only desire is to kill and yet here you are, reasonably sane and not trying to kill me," she lifts an eyebrow in question.
"I have risen from the dead, aye, but I am not one of them, Your Grace. It was not the Night King who brought me back."
"And how did you die, Jon Snow? Fighting this Night King and his army?" her eyes drift back down to the crescent scar over his heart.
"The people were not happy when you freed the slaves in Essos, were they? The people here weren't too keen on my alliance with the wildlings."
"They chose you as their king."
"Only after I took the North back from Ramsay Bolton. They have slowly accepted the wildlings. And I killed the ones who didn't." He sinks back down into the warm water and returns to his previous seat.
Daenerys stares at him for a long time. "Perhaps people can rise from the dead. And perhaps all of these undead are not like you. But I still cannot help you."
Jon sighs, frustrated now with the Dragon Queen and her stubborn nature. He couldn't return to his people empty-handed, and the dragonglass that she has given him is not enough to change the outcome of this war. "Is there nothing I can do to change your mind, Daenerys?"
"I've already told you what you need to do."
His head hangs, and she watches the conflict play out on what she can see of his face. While she does not want him to die, she needs allies in order to remain on the Iron Throne, and the North would be a powerful ally.
His next words, however, are not what she expects. "And what about marriage?"
"I…"
"You said earlier that you wouldn't marry Bran. So what about me?"
"And as you pointed out, you are a bastard."
"I am a king," he declares with more confidence than he feels.
He had been the one to press the subject of her marriage earlier, and her words had been to get a response from him rather than a serious proposal of an alliance through marriage. "Well… I suppose you did make it apparent earlier that I do not have many great options," she replies quietly, no longer looking at him.
"The North would recognize you as its queen and would fight for you to sit on the Iron Throne. In turn, you bring your armies and your dragons to fight for us before it is too late."
"Would it not be easier to just bend the knee?" she asks with a sigh. "It would accomplish the same thing."
"Would it not be easier for you to fight for the North out of the goodness of your heart?" Jon counters. "If we were to defeat the army of the dead, I am sure I could convince the Northerners to fight against Cersei."
"The North has already claimed its independence from the Iron Throne. As long as there is a King in the North, they will never bow to me as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
"Then it appears that marriage is your best option, Your Grace," he replies.
"I can take the North whenever I want. If your army can't win against the dead, they surely can't win against my dragons," she responds, fire back in her voice.
"And yet you haven't used those dragons to take King's Landing from Cersei." When she has no response, he continues. "I understand that this is a difficult decision, Your Grace. I shall give you some time to think it over."
He gets out of the water, no longer conscientious of his scars now that she has already seen them, and walks over to where he had left his drying cloth. He quickly towels himself off before slipping back into his pants and light cotton shirt. Turning to look at her, he is quite surprised to find that the queen has turned her back to him, and he briefly wonders if he has made a mistake. She certainly cannot be pleased that he has backed her into a corner, forcing her into either marriage or violence in order to get what she wants.
With a last lingering look at her, he exits the bath chamber, confident in his decision - if there is to be a Westeros for her to rule, she has to help defeat the army of the dead first.
- Ice and Fire -
He watches the three dragons from as close as he dares to get to them. They had eyed him warily when he first approached but now have returned to lazing around their nest in the afternoon sun. When three heads lift simultaneously and give what he can only describe as happy growls, he is alerted to her presence behind him.
"Your Grace," he turns to her, about to explain that he had not been planning to steal one of her children.
"Have you ever been in love?" she asks, her eyes fixed on her dragons rather than looking at him.
"Yes," he admits after a moment. He takes her in, the blue and white dress different from the black coats he has always seen in her in before and her silver hair in just a few simple braids to keep it out of her face.
"I was forced to marry Khal Drogo because my brother needed his army in order to take back the throne. I was going to marry one of the Meereenese noblemen in order to put an end to the rebellions against my rule of the city and my liberation of the slaves." Dany finally turns her eyes to him, "I knew when I sailed for Westeros that marriage would be the best way to form alliances. There was just this small part of me that hoped that my next marriage would be to a man I actually loved."
"I cannot marry you, Your Grace." Jon quickly takes the few steps needed to close the distance between them. His gray eyes locked on hers, he timidly reaches for one of her hands before dropping to his knee at her feet. "You still have my sword, but I pledge it to you now. You are my queen."
Her eyes widen in surprise, but after a moment, she regains her senses and tugs him by the hand, her head shaking, "Get up, Jon Snow."
"The North will fight for you; I will make them see that you are better than Cersei, better than your father. I will not force you into marriage in order to secure the alliance."
"Stand up and stop talking, Jon Snow," she commands. "We will not speak of what you just did."
He frowns as he gets to his feet. He had just done exactly what she has been asking of him since they met, and now she has rejected it. Realizing that her gaze is on their still joined hands, he lets go of her and takes a step back.
She follows him, stepping closer and retaking his hand in both of hers as she looks into his eyes, "I came here to inform you that I will go North and fight the army of the dead alongside you."
"Surely you cannot mean to marry me, Your Grace. I have bent the knee, and I will gladly do so again in front of your men and my own."
"I will fight for the North because I cannot let my people die. You do not need to bend the knee. And I do not intend to marry you, Jon Snow," she gives him a hesitant smile. "At least… not yet."
"You would still marry me even after I've attempted to force you into it as you've been forced into the others?"
"Do you really think I could be forced to do anything that I did not want to do?" Dany asks, and the dragons behind him articulate her statement with a chorus of growls.
"I suppose not. But you had wanted to marry for love."
"I do not love you today, but I feel something for you that I've never felt before. Perhaps that will change once we have gotten to know one another better - and now that we are no longer at odds with one another." When he does not reply, she suddenly fears that he does not share her feelings. "Of course, the proposal of marriage was made purely as a military alliance. Now that you have my word that I will help you, it is unnecessary."
Jon squeezes her hand, "I would very much like to get to know you better, Daenerys."
A smile graces her lips and a light blush covers her cheeks. "Then would you like to meet my other two children?"
He turns around to find that the three dragons have crept closer during their conversation and have lined up behind him. "Will they eat me?" he asks nervously.
She laughs, tugging gently on his hand to get him to walk with her. "If Drogon didn't eat you, Viserion and Rhaegal surely will not either."