A frigid wind bit Jon's cheeks as they flew over the dark tangled branches of the haunted forest, and Rhaegal's steamy breath puffed from his great maw against a blackened sky. The Wall had been in view for some time, glowing pale under the dull light of the moon, and the snow capped towers of Castle Black were growing in size.
His insides were finally returning to a state of calm, and his eyes and limbs were growing heavy. There'd not be more than an hour before dawn once they arrived at the safety of the castle.
He had spoken few words to his brother or the Reed girl since their escape, and they were crammed together behind him. Jon cleared his throat. "I'm so sorry about Hodor, Bran. Perhaps Summer survived."
"Summer is dead," Bran replied dully. The callousness in his brother's voice was unnerving, and so unlike the boy he knew. Jon opened his mouth to speak, but Bran continued. "I saw the Night King," Bran said as unconcernedly as if he were describing the weather, "he touched me. I think that's how he could breach the cave's defenses."
The hair on the back of Jon's neck stood on end. "I think we should get you to Greywater Watch as soon as we can."
"Yes," Bran answered, "that would be best."
Jon cast a glance over his shoulder, seeking confirmation that Dreamfyre was still beside him. Dany met him with a weary smile, eyes soft from exhaustion. Arya sat behind her, looking ready to nod off while Edd sat in the back, looking grim and unenthused as ever.
They touched down with resounding thuds in the dark courtyard, the few men out in the yard scattering away at the menacing sight of dragons. Jon slid to the ground, and Edd came to his side to help him with his brother.
Just as Dany dismounted, Viserion's cream wings appeared in the sky, landing near his brothers. Dany greeted him readily and the smallest of the dragons leaned into her touch as she pet his snout, hungry for affection.
Grenn emerged from the shadows, keeping a healthy distance. "You're back," the ranger said as Jon met him in the yard. "A lot's happened since you've been gone. Alliser Thorne is the new Lord Commander, and Stannis Baratheon has come to pay us a visit."
Jon's stomach turned sour. "What business does Stannis have with the Watch?"
"None that I understand," Grenn said, "I heard his red woman leads and he follows."
Dany came to his side and squeezed his hand. She didn't need to say anything, he knew she was anxious to get to little Aemon. Edd and Grenn agreed to help Bran, Meera and Arya settle in in the King's Tower, while Jon and Dany made straight for the maester's quarters.
Jon had to work to keep up with Dany as she practically ran to uncle Aemon's apartment. It was a surprise when uncle Aemon brightly bid them enter after Dany softly rapt at the door. The room was lit with a single candle and Uncle Aemon was sitting in a chair near the hearth with little Aemon in his lap. Ghost raised his head from where he slept as they stepped into the room.
Little Aemon squealed when he saw them, his whole face turning up in a gummy grin as the wooden direwolf he was holding was tossed aside. Dany rushed in and swept their babe into her arms while he babbled happily, his little hands grabbing her cheeks. "Did you miss us, my sweet?" she asked.
"You're awake," Jon said to uncle Aemon with amusement.
"The very old rise early and so do the very young," said Uncle Aemon.
Dany and little Aemon were lost in each other and Jon's heart was full. Ghost stretched before padding to Jon's side while they waited together.
Finally relenting, Dany gave the boy a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before handing him to Jon. His heart melted, and he wondered about how he had been able to leave him and how he could possibly do it again. He fisted a handful of Jon's hair while he chattered.
"We've much to tell you, uncle," Jon said, "after we've found rest."
Dany held little Aemon closely as they returned to their apartments in the King's Tower. A freshly built fire had already warmed the room and everything appeared to be as they left it.
"I never thought I'd be happy to be back here," said Dany. Little Aemon had drifted back to sleep on their journey and she allowed Jon to take him from her arms.
Jon looked down on his son sleeping peacefully. "He'll be walking soon I expect."
Dany brushed the babe's soft curls back from his forehead. "He's growing too fast."
"Aye," Jon replied, "he'll be ready for a sword soon."
He laughed at the look of shock that came over his wife's face.
"Don't you dare!" she demanded swatting his arm.
Laying him gently in his crib, they stood side by side silently, watching him sleep. "He'll have a little brother or sister here before we know it," Jon remarked.
Dany's hand moved to the flat plane of her belly. "I know what it will be."
"Don't tell me," he told her quickly.
"And why not?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I want it to be a surprise."
She turned into him and slipped her arms over his shoulders. "It will be a surprise if I tell you now."
"Come on," Jon pressed, "there's little else to look forward to."
"Alright, a surprise then," she said sweetly before pressing a kiss to his lips. Jon growled and grabbed a handful of her backside as best he could through her layers of clothes. He would help her remove each and every one straight away, he thought as his fingers blindly sought the fastenings of her dress. It had been far too long since they'd had privacy, let alone a bed.
"Wait," she gasped, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. "I have to tell you something Bloodraven told me."
Jon sighed. "Gods, I'd forgotten you'd even been with him. I've gotten so used to chasing after you to places you ought not be."
She ignored his exasperation. "He told me it was Cersei Lannister who sent the poisoned dress."
Fury roared through his mind, and he could see Jamie Lannister then, his pale face splattered with blood. "I will kill them. I will kill every last one."
Worry was plain in Dany's purple eyes. "There's more. He told me the Lannisters and Freys are working together… that they plan to destroy us."
He cupped her cheek. "Do you think I'll let anything happen to you?" Her lovely eyes watered and she shook her head. "When the dead are defeated," he told her, "we will take care of the Lannisters, and the Freys and anyone else who would dare to hurt our family."
Fisting his tunic, she pulled him down to her and claimed his mouth possessively. If he succumbed, she'd have him on his back in no time, and he'd be praising the old gods as she sought her pleasure above him. A tantalizing prospect, but one for another night.
He lifted her by her seat roughly and walked her back towards the bed. Dropping her on the furs, he tackled her fastenings impatiently. "I need to see you," he said gruffly. "I've had too many nights of sleeping beside you fully clothed."
"There was the cave," she said with a breathless giggle as she helped him strip off her dress.
"Thank the Gods for that cave," he said, tossing the garment aside.
Her chest was heaving now, her curves tempting him beneath the thin fabric of her shift. She lifted her arms for him to pull it over her head, and she whispered shakily, "we must be careful not to wake the baby."
"You best be quiet then." He removed his own shirt and trousers while his eyes feasted on her flesh, hidden from him for far too long. Her lovely rosy pink nipples grew stiff from the cold, making his mouth water, and he kissed them each in turn.
He laid her on her back, an unearthly beauty he still couldn't believe he deserved, with her silver hair fanned out around her. Starting at her navel, he lapped his way up up to her neck, giving her every obscene kiss and nibble he'd had to hold back during all their travels. The heat of his mouth over the shells of her ears had her gasping and squirming beneath him, until his mouth and tongue moved down again, back the way they came.
Extra attention was given to each nipple by way of apology for having neglected them for too long, his hands covetously palming the soft flesh of her breasts. Not slowing down or giving her time to recover, she was trembling when he moved lower on her belly. He thought to tease the flesh of her inner thighs, draw out her suffering, but his own patience was waning.
When he climbed down from the bed to lean over, she sat up in confusion, until he gripped her hips and brought her cunt to his mouth. Laying gentle kisses over her mound, he kissed her moistened flesh the way he did her lips.
"Mmm," he hummed against her flesh, "I've missed the way you taste."
Her eyes were squeezed shut and she bit her bottom lip. "Gods, Jon."
"Shh," he reminded her, using his breath to taunt her. Her fingers threaded through his hair when his tongue gave her the attention she craved and she tugged firmly when he fell into a rhythm she appreciated. Her moaning was heavenly, though perhaps too loud, but he was loath to silence her.
She groaned in anguish as he stopped before she crested, but she took him into her arms greedily as he clambered back over her. "Please, Jon," she whispered, her eyes like a purple sunset. No more time for teasing, painfully hard, he thrust into her slow and deep. Soft, and wet and warm, her thighs wrapped around him, and he kept a deliberate pace.
"Yes," she began to pant, faintly at first and then louder, "yes!"
"Shh," he reminded her again while his own muscles began to tighten. He put his hand over her mouth as tenderly as he could, to keep her from waking the baby. Her fingernails dug into his back sharply while her muffled whimpers tickled his palm. Using his free hand, he wrenched up her thigh and her eyes scrunched up adorably. Her suppressed cries became stronger until her back arched and her walls fluttered around him.
He wished then he could prolong the moment, make it last and never leave it, but there was nothing that made him so weak as her. Coming undone above her, he did his best to stifle the sounds of his own pleasure before he sought rest between her breasts. Laying there panting, he closed his eyes and tried to capture the moment, there couldn't be a man more fortunate than him.
The sound of sniffling stole his attention, and he looked up to see her wiping away tears. He sat up and took her into his arms. "What is it, love? What's wrong?"
She shook her head, and rested her head against his chest. "I'm frightened," she whispered, "and even though I know you must, I do not want you to go."
His heart sank and emotion built in his throat. "I'll be back as quick as I can."
"I know," she answered, "it's just… there's never enough time."
He kissed her temple, and held her until she drifted off to sleep.
They allowed themselves a few hours of rest, enjoying the comfort of a bed and the warmth of a castle. Little Aemon woke them with his soft prattle, and Dany was sure there was no sweeter sound in the world. Even with their brush with death at the Cave of the Three-eyed Raven, Dany felt more hopeful than she had in recent weeks.
The identity of her would-be murderer was now known, and Bloodraven confirmed what she hoped to be true: that her prophetic dreams gave her a chance to change the course of her future.
Ser Barristan had joined them in the library and she and Jon had told the knight, Uncle Aemon and Samwell Tarly about everything that had happened Beyond the Wall. Dany was grateful their babe was none the wiser as they recounted the horrors of the army of deadmen.
Shortly after, Jon left to relay the information to the new Lord Commander, leaving Ghost in his stead. Now Samwell Tarly was reading letters to Uncle Aemon while Dany held onto little Aemon's hands as he made clumsy steps around the room.
A chill swept into the room, and Dany looked up to see the Red Priestess she'd met in the woods near Harrenhal a lifetime ago. As beautiful as ever, with unsettling red eyes and scarlet red robes. Beside her was a tall dour looking man with a fringe of dark hair crowning his head. He wore a serious expression and did not have a drop of the priestess' beauty.
Dany lifted little Aemon back into her arms and held him protectively, while both Ghost and Ser Barristan moved to either side of her.
"We meet again, Lady Targaryen," the Red Woman said, the ruby on her choker gleaming in the torchlight. "I am pleased to introduce to you the one true King of the Seven Kingdoms, Stannis Baratheon."
Dany swallowed her irritation, and gave Stannis a curt nod. "My Lord. What brings you to Castle Black?"
"Lord Commander Mormont called for aid," he said grimly, "We're here to answer."
"You have a son now," Melisandre remarked, and Dany stepped back as she moved closer. "A child of ice and fire."
Dany relaxed as Jon entered the room, and came to her side. He eyed Stannis and his priestess suspiciously. "I was surprised to learn you marched north, My Lord," Jon said.
"You are in the presence of King Stannis Baratheon, Jon Snow," Melisandre told them with her melodic voice, "the Lord of Light called him here."
Dany gave the woman a tight smile. "He is not our king, My lady."
Stannis spoke directly to Jon. "You mean to have the Wildlings cross the Wall?"
Jon clenched and unclenched his burned hand. "I've discussed it with Ser Alliser and he's agreed it's the best course."
"He seems to take you for his king," Stannis said, seemingly unimpressed, "though it was my understanding members of the watch took no sides."
"Ser Alliser came to this conclusion for the good of the watch and the realm," Jon replied.
Lord Baratheon clenched his jaw. "And you think the north will stand for it? The Umbers will stand by while you let Wildlings invade their lands?"
Jon bristled beside her. "The Umbers and Karstarks and all the others will see reason."
"Northmen aren't known for their reason," Stannis said.
"Not where southerners are concerned," Jon replied with a forced smile.
"You want to allow the Wildlings to cross so that they do not swell the numbers of the army of the dead?" Lord Baratheon asked.
"And to save thousands from death," Dany added, though Stannis did not acknowledge her.
"The most practical move would be to use your dragons to end the wildling problem once and for all," Stannis continued, "the army of the dead does not grow and the northern lords remain happy."
Jon narrowed his eyes at the hard man. "You're suggesting we burn thousands of men, women and children alive."
"Death by fire is the purest death," said the red woman.
Stannis was unabashed. "I said it would be practical, not that it would be pretty. Men in positions of strength must make such decisions, decisions that while cruel for some are salvation for others."
"Sometimes mercy is practical as well," Jon said, "they can fight with us or the army of the dead."
Stannis regarded Jon a moment with an unchanged expression. "Your friend, the Tarly boy, he said obsidian can be used against the Others. There are large deposits of it on Dragonstone. I've sent orders for my men to begin mining and fashioning weapons from it. We'll supply the Watch with them, and Winterfell, of course."
Dany and Jon exchanged looks, before Jon asked, "What is it you want in return?"
Melisandre spoke up. "Life has taken many unexpected turns for both of you. Love, a family of your own, dragons… and yet you seek more. You seek a throne that brought misery to generations of your own ancestors."
"We do not choose our destiny," Dany said.
"No," she said, her startling red eyes looking deep into Dany's, "but when we misinterpret our destiny, the results are ruinous. Stannis Baratheon is the true king. He is the Azor Ahai, the son of fire, and darkness will flee before him."
Dany gritted her teeth. "He is no son of fire."
Stannis looked at Dany for the first time since they began their exchange. "Yet, the throne is mine by law. Your brother was the crown prince… but my brother defeated him on the Trident. I am Robert's heir, and the throne is my duty. It shall be my duty until my last day and then shall pass to my daughter."
"If you're expecting us to give up our claim and follow you, you're wasting your time," Jon said. "The Lannisters defeated you. Your army was nearly destroyed. You're here now in an attempt to gain support in the north because you're out of moves."
"And yet I have an army," Stannis said calmly, "and a stronghold of my own."
Jon shrugged. "I have three dragons, and the North and Riverlands behind me."
"Robb Stark holds the North and Riverlands. Do you imagine he'll march south for you?"
Jon smiled sardonically. "If he won't for me, he certainly won't for you."
"None of that matters now, of course," Melisandre said smoothly. "Soon comes the cold and the night that never ends. The Lord had called us all here for a purpose. You'll come to see the truth in time."
Several days had passed since their return. Long days in a dreary castle, filled with long talks and squabbles about what should be done. Many brothers of the Watch grumbled darkly about the truce with the wildlings, and they couldn't be blamed, they were ancient enemies. Stannis, it seemed, was the easiest to convince, Melisandre confirming what they told him with visions from the flames.
Lord Baratheon and his army would stay to see the Wildlings cross, and then he would take his men south to Moat Cailin. Bran and Meera Reed set out to Greywater Watch accompanied by Stark men the day before. If everything went according to plan, they would be joining them in the not too distant future.
Ravens were exchanged with Winterfell, and on the morrow, Dany and little Aemon would fly to the Stark stronghold to confer with Robb, and Jon… Jon would set out before them, flying back beyond the Wall to escort the Wildlings on their journey.
They stood on the Wall together in silence, looking out at the frozen world before them as the stars were beginning to pop out of the sky above. Tomorrow, they would be on different sides.
Jon was quieter than usual, he wore a tortured expression. "I shouldn't be leaving you," he said, keeping his eyes trained ahead.
Her heart dropped and she fought her heart's desire to agree. "No one is less happy about it than me, but you will not be gone long, and when you return, we will be safer."
"There are too many dangers here with Stannis and his red priestess."
She took his gloved hand in hers. "I don't think they mean us harm. They're still hopeful we'll join their cause."
A corner of Jon's mouth lifted. "He doesn't realize how stubborn you are."
"Me? What about you?" she said, pushing him playfully. Turning serious, she searched his eyes. "I will protect Aemon, and keep him close. If something goes wrong, we'll find you."
Jon's eyes softened. "I know you'll keep him safe," he said, pulling her close, "but I'm going to miss you."
He tenderly cradled her head in his hands, and kissed her. Her eyes watered as she kissed him back, committing to memory the taste of his mouth, and the warmth of his cloak. The scent of smoke and leather, and the pleasant scratch of his beard against her skin. He will not be gone long, she reminded herself.
He pulled away with an irritated huff at the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow. Dany felt her own pang of disappointment as she turned to see Theon Greyjoy approaching.
"Hello Theon," Dany said politely.
"Greyjoy," Jon grumbled.
"I heard you're going back out there," Theon stated, undisturbed by having interrupted them.
Jon regarded him skeptically. "I am."
Theon came alongside them looking out over the Wall. "And Alliser is going to let the Wildlings pass through. The northern lords won't like that."
"I think I'll be able to help them understand the necessity," Dany said. "Either the Wildlings cross the Wall and settle in the Gift hospitably or the Wildlings cross over the Wall as living corpses and terrorize the entire kingdom."
Theon smirked. "That's difficult to argue with. All the same, I would offer you my service. I know the northern lords as well as anyone. I could help persuade them to your cause."
Dany could feel Jon's anger as he squared his shoulders, and moved in front of her. Dany spoke briskly, "That's very kind of you, Theon-"
"Yes," Jon interrupted, "very kind, and since when has Theon Greyjoy been considered kind?"
Theon gave him a sullen look. "I know the North, same as you. I was only offering to help."
Jon stepped forward as though he might strike him. "Your help isn't needed here!"
Theon glared back. "I didn't mean to offend you."
Jon's face had turned a dark shade of red. "I don't want you anywhere near my wife, Greyjoy! Not now, not ever. If you so much as look in her direction while I am away, Ghost will tear out your throat!"
Theon's mouth fell open, affronted, but he turned on his heel and stalked away.
Dany realized her heart was racing as they watched him go. "That was unnecessary," she said, "I was going to decline his offer anyway if you'd given me the chance to speak."
Jon shook his head, jaw still locked tight. "It was entirely necessary, and entirely true."
Dany rolled her eyes. "You're going to have to trust me now to keep myself safe, you've no other choice."
He exhaled. "I do trust you. It's others I'm less sure of."
Dany's heart was heavy, as she flew with Dreamfyre away from Castle Black. Little Aemon was wrapped snugly against her chest, eyes wide with excitement as they soared through the sky. She could only hope he'd stay content through their journey to Winterfell. Ser Barristan rode behind them, and Ghost would remain behind to watch over Arya.
Not an hour before, she'd seen Jon off in the courtyard. The bitter cold morning air had stung her nose, and Jon had wrapped her and Aemon in such a warm embrace, she never wanted to let him go.
"I'll return soon," he promised her.
"Be careful," she implored, "we need you."
"I will," he promised.
The chill cut deeper when he let her go, and watching him fly out of sight with Rhaegal made her feel empty. Winterfell would not be near as comforting without him, but she would do her part. She and Robb would meet with the northern lords together to tell them what was coming and to gain their support.
The winter sun was high in the sky when she touched down within Winterfell's walls. Robb and his lovely southern rose were there to greet her, Lady Margaery plainly swollen with child as though she could give birth any day. Lady Catelyn, Sansa and Rickon were lined up cordially as well.
Robb hugged her first, mindful of little Aemon in her arms. "Gods, he's grown. He looks just like Jon," he said, then added, "but he has his mother's eyes, of course."
Dany beamed at him before gingerly embracing Lady Margaery. "I see your own family is growing."
Margaery smiled prettily. "Maester Lewin says only another moon."
She supped with the Starks in the Great Hall, Sansa contentedly attending to little Aemon who seemed to remember her just as fondly. Lady Catelyn was eager to learn how Bran and Arya were faring, and Dany told her everything she could, understanding her concerns as a mother.
That evening, Robb asked her to meet him in his solar to solidify their plans. Not wasting time, they'd be leaving in the morning to begin meeting with the lords of Last Hearth, Karhold, and finally the Dreadfort. Their hope was to gain the support of the houses nearest the Gift where the wildlings would be settled.
His solar was in far better condition than the library in Castle Black, and the hotspring heated walls warmed her to her bones. "We'll begin with the Umbers," Robb said, studying a map before him. "Their people have been the most ravaged by wildling attacks and they will not take this kindly."
Dany breathed in the warm scent of her mulled wine. "Perhaps my tales of walking deadmen will help them to understand."
Robb nodded slowly. "Or a promise to defend their lands with dragonfire should the wildlings pillage their lands."
"Reasonable," Dany agreed.
"The Karstarks will be easier to persuade," he said. "Lord Rickard was fond of you, and we did rescue Harrion from Harrenhal. Then there's the Boltons… Others take them, I'd rather pay them no visit at all would it not be an insult. We'll stay an evening at Last Hearth and Karhold, and pass through the Dreadfort. I'd rather not spend any time at all within the walls of that cursed place."
"I agree," Dany replied, feeling suddenly chilled. "I've had enough interactions with the Boltons to see me to the end of my days."
Robb blew out a breath. "Gods, it's hard to believe any of this is real. I've seen nothing for myself, it may as well be one of Old Nan's tales."
"I wish I'd never seen any of it myself." Dany recounted the events she and Jon experienced Beyond the Wall. The white walkers, Mance Rayder, the giants, the army of the dead, and Bloodraven in his cave.
Robb's face grew gray to hear it all. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather Margaery not hear such tales so close to her time."
"Of course," she promised. "You're going to be a wonderful father."
He smiled at her weakly. "I wish the timing could have been better."
"So do I," Dany said.
Morning came swiftly, and while she hated to leave Aemon again, it was far easier to leave him in the cozy halls of Winterfell for only a few short days. Margaery and Sansa would indulge him and Ser Barristan would watch over him.
She and Robb stood before Dreamfyre, the black dragon eyeing him dubiously with fierce molten eyes. He'd had to accept many strange riders over the past few months.
"Are you ready, Robb Stark?" Dany asked struggling to keep a straight face while she watched the King in the North struggle with his courage.
Robb exhaled. "He doesn't look ready."
"Nonsense. He always looks that way," she said, petting his warm black scales. Then added with a sly smile, "don't worry, he only burns my enemies."
"Perhaps you should remind him of how I brought him safely into Riverrun when he was no bigger than a squirrel."
Dany climbed up his scaly wing, and gestured for Robb to follow. "He remembers."
Last Hearth came into view in a matter of hours, and Dany thought on the significance of being the second Targaryen to fly to the northernmost stronghold since Queen Alysanne.
Greatjon and Smalljon met them outside their grey stone walls, the strongly built men wearing unreadable expressions.
"That beast has grown," Greatjon remarked
"He has, My Lord," Dany said, "and his fire burns hotter still."
"We'll settle in the Great Hall, and then you can tell us why you're here," the Greatjon replied.
Dany drank the bitter ale she was offered alongside the men in the dark hall, noticing uncomfortably that she was the only woman present apart from a serving girl. She recounted to them her tales of fearsome white walkers and the unyielding army of death to Greatjon and his son. At her unbelievable tales, they did not bat an eye, but tempers flared when she began to speak of the Wildlings.
Greatjon looked at her crossly. "We've been fighting murderous wildling raiders and rapers for thousands of years and now you expect us to let them settle in so close to our lands."
"There's no other choice, My Lord," Robb intervened, "dead or living, the Wildlings will cross."
"And what reinforcements will we receive from Winterfell?" Smalljon asked, "or are we expected to manage them on our own?"
"I can spare 50 good men," Robb said, "though I expect I will be calling the banners soon to make our stand at Moat Cailin."
"I will vouch for them, Lord Umber," Dany spoke up, "and if they breach our agreement, Dreamfyre and I will return to rectify the situation."
"See that you do, Mother of Dragons," Lord Umber said before taking a long swig from his tankard.
The enmity between them slowly faded as they drank and reminisced about their glories in battle, and before the hour had grown too late, the Greatjon's voice rang through the hall in song.
The next day, they found the Karstarks easier to persuade, both houses willing to accept begrudgingly with the promise of reinforcements and retribution should the Wildlings step out of line. Another night of ale, and boisterous men had her thankful they'd be returning to Winterfell the next day.
There was a dull ache behind her temples that was accentuated by the cloudy grey morning. Robb was quiet as well, looking as tired as she felt. One final stop.
The Dreadfort was an ugly fortress, with thick walls, massive towers and triangular merlons that looked like fangs. Dany bid Dreamfyre to land a healthy distance back from the ominous gate where the flayed man banners flew.
Dany suddenly felt hot and found it difficult to swallow. "I don't want to go in there."
"No," Robb agreed, "Neither do I."
A group of riders approached and Dany recognized one instantly, Lord Bolton's bastard, Ramsay. The sight of him alone made her want to shrink away.
"Stay here," Robb told her under his breath before climbing down to meet them. Dany stayed atop Dreamfyre gladly, maintaining a strong grip on the dragon's horns, at the ready.
"My King," Ramsay said with a humble bow of his head. Dany's heart jumped to her throat when his pale eyes found hers. "My Lady Targaryen, welcome to the Dreadfort."
"Ramsay Snow, is it?" Robb spoke in a loud clear voice, "I've come to speak with your father."
Ramsay's eyes fell to the ground. "Then I regret to inform you, My King, that my father died not two days past. A hunting accident."
Robb narrowed his eyes. "I've not received word."
"Forgive us for our late reply, we sent the raven yesterday," Ramsay said, looking contrite. "Please, My King, the Dreadfort is yours."
"I am sorry for your loss, My Lord. Unfortunately, we're pressed for time," Robb replied to Dany's relief. "We're here to inform you of threats facing the north. Any army of dead men approaches the wall. To that end, we're allowing the Wildings to pass through the Wall and settle in the gift."
Ramsay was nonplussed. "The rumors are true then."
"The Umbers and Karstarks have given their support," Robb informed him, "and we'll be gathering our strength at the Neck. I'll send a raven with further instructions, and I expect to receive a full account of your father's passing."
"My King," Ramsay said reverently, lowering his head.
Three weeks had passed since Jon had left Castle Black to rejoin the free folk, and the nights without Dany were lonely and far colder than he remembered. The first week had been the hardest, when she was at Winterfell and away from Ghost. The moment she returned to the Wall, he'd known. It was easier to be away when he could see his family through the eyes of his wolf, to be with them in some way and know they were safe.
Thus far, there'd been no sign of the dead, but his time among the free folk was never dull. Tormund kept him entertained with stories of his fantastical encounters, and intriguing albeit questionable advice about pleasing women, and Mance and his lute could always be counted on when evening fell.
The red head girl, Ygritte, was a nuisance. She never seemed to be far and had a knack for finding him around the campfire every evening. Whether he ignored her or treated her harshly, she came back all the same.
One night she'd grown too bold. "Must be hard for you southerners to stay warm out here."
"I'm not a southerner," he said with irritation.
Undeterred, she scooted closer to him as he sat before a fire. "Best way for a man to keep warm is with a woman, and a free woman is free to lay with whom she will." She touched his arm and he shrugged her off.
"I'm not a free man," he told her curtly, "and I've no desire to be. My wife is a jealous woman who commands a fire breathing dragon. I think it's best you stayed away." For once, the red head was the one to leave, and she did not bother him again.
They were less than a week from the Wall when they'd come across some unexpected outsiders: Beric Dondarion and Thoros of Myr. The free folk took more kindly to them than they would brothers in black and they were permitted to share their food and fire.
"I didn't expect you to survive out here," Jon told them as he was digging into his roasted chicken inside Mance Rayder's warm tent.
"The Lord of Light has seen fit to show us mercy," Thoros said.
"Why does the Lord of Light want you out here?" Jon asked.
"We don't know," Beric replied. "First he sent us to the Fist of the First Men, then the Frostfangs, back to the haunted forest and now here with you."
"Your lord sounds confused," Jon said.
"It's not for us to interpret his will," Beric said.
Jon regarded him for a moment, his words sounding too familiar. "You'll be in good company with Stannis and his red priestess."
The sky was a clear blue the day Jon returned, and the Wall sparkled under a bright sun. Dany had been in the wormwalks with Arya practicing swordplay when she heard the blaring horn. Far too impatient to wait for the leaden iron cage to bring her to the top of the Wall, she called for Dreamfyre.
The black dragon's powerful talons crunched on top of the Wall while her heart pounded. Below thousands of men and women emerged from the thick forest, the numerous clans of the free folk she'd journeyed with not long ago.
A grumbling roar had her eyes darting to who she'd longed to see most, and her chest swelled with pride to see him there on his green dragon. She didn't take her eyes off him even as Rhaegal landed next to them with a grunt. Dismounting immediately, he looked up at her from where she sat mounted. His hair was longer, and his clothes worse for the wear but the grin on his handsome face made her soft.
"Aren't you going to come down and see me?" he asked.
Her cheeks grew warm as she climbed down, jumping into his waiting arms. He rocked her gently, her feet floating above the ground.
"Gods," he swore, "you smell like lavender and clean linen."
She giggled and pressed her forehead against his. "You… do not." He smelled like sweat, and earth, and campfire, but he was hers. "You're here."
His mouth was hot and possessive over hers, and nothing else mattered in the world. The loneliness of too many cold nights were taking over as her hands voraciously explored every part of him she could reach.
Jon was the one to break the kiss. "I better stop while I still can," he said unsteadily.
Reluctantly, they flew below where Arya threw her arms around him, and Ser Barristan welcomed him back. He spoke to Ser Alliser and soon the gate was being opened and masses of men, women and children were streaming through, casting wary glances at the brothers in black who returned their looks with their own suspicion.
Dany thought her heart would burst when they retrieved little Aemon from the rookery, neither Jon nor their son taking their eyes off one another as they slipped away to the sanctuary of their apartments.
The click of the lock behind her was satisfying. There was no time she cherished more than these private moments together. The room was still warm from the morning, but a fire would need to be rebuilt.
"Here," she said, holding out her hands for Aemon, "we've something to show you."
Taking a couple steps back, she sunk to her knees with the squirrely boy in her arms. She cast a grin up at Jon before helping her little son find his footing. He stepped out in a rush on wobbly legs, but Jon crouched down in time to catch him as little Aemon tumbled into his arms.
Jon laughed in delight, and kissed his curly haired crown. "Well done, little one."
"He took his first step barely a week after you left," she told him, "while we were staying in Winterfell."
"We'll go back there," Jon said while Aemon tugged at his beard, "find some comfort and rest before the Night King comes."
"What about Uncle Aemon?" She wasn't sure she could leave him in such a dreary place alone, not so soon after they'd reunited.
"We'll bring him too."
"As long as we stay together, I don't care where we go."
Morning was upon him, and for once he didn't mind. Dany's little body kept him warmer than any campfire ever could, and she smelled like peace and home. It had been a week since the Wildlings passed through the Wall, and it felt like things were falling into place. They'd taken a step towards safety, a step towards the end goal they planned for. All things were beginning to feel possible.
Stannis and his army began their march toward the neck the day before and today, he and Dany would return to Winterfell for a time before setting out to Greywater Watch.
Dany began to fidget in his arms, and he kissed her neck. Rolling herself onto his chest, she looked down on him with a lazy smile. She left a kiss on his forehead and each of his cheeks before kissing his lips.
"Good morning," he said, brushing her long hair back from her face.
She hummed. "Yes, it is," she said, her fingers absently tracing his torso. "When we reach Winterfell, the first thing I'm going to do is take a long bath, and then I"m going to take you to my bed…," she leaned forward to brush her nose against his, "and no one is ever going to hear from you again."
He laughed in delight while his blood rushed. "We should be there by evening, and then I'll be your prisoner."
Kissing him once more, she sat up, keeping the covers wrapped around her. "Ser Barristan will join little Aemon and I on Dreamfyre, and Arya and uncle will go with you," she said, recounting the plan.
"I told Sam I"d meet him once more in the library before we go," Jon said, "He's gathered documents and maps he thinks we'll find useful."
"Good," she replied with a sunny smile, "that will give me time to practice with Arya in the wormwalks. I've practiced near every morning since you left."
"Are you sure you should be doing that while pregnant?" he asked with concern.
"Arya won't hurt me," she consoled him, "besides, I'll wear armor."
"Please take Ser Barristan with you."
"I always do."
Jon had taken little Aemon with him to the library where he sat with Sam and his uncle. His tiny son squirmed about in his arms, babbling cheerily as he tried to fist the ancient maps and crumbling books scattered about the table before them. Ghost lay sleeping in a corner of the room, saving his strength before he would make the journey on foot to Winterfell.
LIttle Aemon managed to take hold of some faded map, studying it with interest and then shaking it about. Sam looked like he might come out of his skin.
Jon took the old parchment away peaceably. "Sam's heart will stop if you hurt that map," he told him a smile.
"Sorry," Sam said sheepishly, smoothing the paper back out carefully, "it's just it's from the Age of Heroes." He handed Jon a thick leather satchel. "I've copied everything I could about the Others, and maps that exist of the Neck, but I suspect Lord Reed will be able to impart more than these texts ever could."
Jon stood and slung the bag over his shoulder. "Thank you, Sam. I'm sure it will be useful." He turned to his uncle then, who'd been sitting quietly. "Are you ready to ride a dragon, uncle?"
Aemon laughed. "I've been ready quite a long time."
Sam stood then and helped Aemon to his feet. They'd find Dany and Arya in the wormwalks and then make their way to the courtyard. Jon was ready to leave Castle Black behind.
Theon burst into the room looking harried and sweaty. Jon held little Aemon closer.
"It's Daenerys," Theon panted, "she's hurt."
"What?" Jon demanded, his chest tightening immediately. "What happened? Where is she?"
"The wormwalks," Greyjoy said, "she and Arya were practicing with live steel!"
"Seven hells!" Jon cried, handing little Aemon to his uncle. How could they be so stupid? She said she'd be careful!
"Bring her here right away," Maester Aemon said seriously, "Sam, please get my supplies."
Jon gave Ghost a pointed look as he followed Theon out of the room. "Stay with them, boy."
Jon and Theon ran neck and neck through the winding passageway. "What the hell were they thinking?!" he asked angrily, "how bad is it?"
"Arya got her arm good," Theon said, "it's not serious but she's asking for you."
"Thank the Gods," Jon said. It was only her arm. Dany was never going to practice swordplay while pregnant again if he had anything to say about it.
All at once a chill crept up Jon's spine, and his steps began to slow. "Why wouldn't Ser Barristan-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Theon turned on him, delivering a succession of punches to his chest. Jon opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't make the words come. He was so hot, burning up as the torches on the walls burned out. It wasn't until his knees gave out that he felt the warm gush of blood at his chest.
There was a faraway sound of someone gasping for air. He had to find Dany, but he couldn't feel his legs. She was there then, a vision of light with her silver hair and a bright smile. Little Aemon was in her arms, reaching for him.
The furious rumble of Rhaegal's roar brought him back to the dark and the cold hard ground. Ghost's howl was the last thing he heard.
Dany's eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the wormwalks. The musty smell of the cold earthen tunnels still made her wrinkle her nose but she had learned to ignore the sounds of vermin scurrying about in the dark. The courtyard at Winterfell would be a far more pleasant place to practice with her good sister, especially as Dany's skill had improved since their arrival at Castle Black. Having grown more confident, she wouldn't mind practicing in the light of day.
Arms weary, her strength was beginning to wane. But not as much as Arya's, she'd noted with great satisfaction, as the Stark girl puffed.
Arya made a hasty strike with her blunted blade which Dany met and countered.
"Well done, Your Grace," Ser Barristan praised as he watched over their lesson.
"Well done, Your Grace," Arya mocked.
Dany laughed. "Worried I might best you again, Stark?"
"Ha!" Arya yelled before lunging at her again.
Just as Dany lifted her own sword to meet her, the tunnel shook with Rhaegal's violent roar. She stood frozen in place as Dreamfyre and Viserion joined the enraged cry of their brother, the sounds vibrating through her body. There was something in those cries she'd never heard before and it was terrifying.
Her eyes darted to Ser Barristan who's hand now rested over his hilt. "Something's wrong," she said. Ghost's howl called from somewhere deeper in the tunnels and her stomach dropped. Her wooden blade hit the ground as she dashed through the tunnel toward the library. She had to get to Jon and little Aemon.
Ser Barristan overtook her, running ahead and all but blocking her view with his hulking figure. Her heart raced as she tried to calm her fears. All would be well. Stannis and his red priestess were gone, and she, Jon, and little Aemon would be flying to Winterfell in the hour.
Her grey knight halted suddenly, and Dany barely stopped herself from crashing into him. The scraping sound of Ser Barristan drawing his sword had her throat go dry. Trembling inside, time seemed to slow as she stepped around her knight.
She screamed his name before she could make sense of what she saw. Jon lay there motionless on the dirt floor. Running to him at once, she dropped to her knees. His cheeks were warm but his color was sickly pale as she patted his face urgently. His eyes were wide and unfocused. "Jon!" she cried desperately, "Jon, wake up!"
"No!" Arya cried, slumping beside him, starting to sob. The girl's sobs were a hateful sound. The sound of resignation. There was still time, she would not let him die.
Dany shook his shoulders, and called his name.
Ser Barristan put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Your Grace," he said, "we need to get somewhere safe."
She shoved the knight off violently. Her shaking hands moved over Jon's chest, desperate to find a beating heart, but she recoiled when her fingers slipped over cold wet fabric. Pushing aside his cloak, she found the dark stain of blood. "No," she whimpered as warm tears slipped down her cheeks.
Ghost howled in the distance again, the mournful sound rending her heart in two. Air left her lungs abruptly and she was struck with an overwhelming urgency. "Aemon!" she shouted at Ser Barristan, "Little Aemon! The Library! Protect Aemon!"
Alarm was plain in Ser Barristan's eyes before he bolted down the dark corridor toward the library, quickly fading out of sight.
Her eyes fell on Jon's face again, his perfect, sweet face. He was her family, her lover, her dearest friend. Her sword and shield. He was hers and she his, and wherever he would go, she would follow. Life was nothing to her before him. How could she survive a time after?
For the first time she allowed herself to see that the light had left his beautiful dark eyes. "Jon, I need you," she whispered, "please come back to me." The truth stabbed her like a thousand cold daggers, and an anguished moan wrenched through her. Finding strength, she kissed his breathless lips. They were cool against hers, and she sobbed to think they'd never be warm again.
Laying against his chest, she hugged him the way she usually did, tucking her head under his chin. She took in his scent, trying to commit it to memory, ignoring the grim smell of blood that was beginning to permeate the air. Arya sat beside her, holding his hand while she wept.
She needed to go to Aemon, but thought of leaving him on the hard cold ground crushed her soul. Leaving would make it real, and all she wanted was to wake.
Dany sat up all at once. "The Red Woman," she said intently, "we have to send for the Red Woman! She can bring him back, I know she can!"
Arya's eyes were red and swollen. "What?"
Kissing Jon's lips again, she steeled herself to carefully close his eyes. He looked like he was sleeping then. Parting from him was agony as she rose to her feet, but she promised herself this would not be the end.
There was a rush of movement behind her and a man emerged from the shadows, catching Arya in his grasp before either of them could react. Dany's heart stopped. "Theon? What are you doing?"
Greyjoy's eyes were wild while Ayra struggled to free herself. "Come with me or I'll kill her," he said hastily, a dagger glinting menacingly near Arya's throat.
"Traitor!" Arya screamed, kicking and squirming to break free. She cried out when Theon nicked the skin at her neck, red blood flowering against her pale skin. Eyes wide, she stopped struggling.
Rage was rising in Dany's chest, and she spoke through gritted teeth. "What have you done?"
"You're both coming with me," he tried to say forcefully, but his voice trembled. "We're getting on that black monster of yours and you're going to fly us away from the castle."
Dany held his gaze as a hate more powerful than any feeling she'd known rushed through her veins. "Yes, let's go," she said flatly, "so my dragons can burn you alive."
Dread flashed across his face, but he maintained his resolve. "Then you'll have to burn her too," he said, gesturing to Arya.
"Burn in hell, turncloak!" the wolf girl screamed.
"I've friends here at Castle Black," he threatened in a rush, "if I don't make it out of here with you on that dragon, there's no telling what might happen to your son."
Dany's breath caught in her throat. "What have you done with my son?!" she demanded.
"Nothing yet," he spat, "are you coming or shall I kill her now?"
Her heart dropped to her stomach. She needed to protect their son and Jon's little sister. "Don't hurt her," she begged, voice cracking.
"Go," Theon demanded, nodding down the corridor that led away from the library, "and be quick about it."
The tunnel he forced them down led straight to the courtyard. The dragons would be there, saddled and ready for what was supposed to be their departure. The brothers of Castle Black were scared of the dragons, rightfully so, and the courtyard would likely be all but deserted.
Dany didn't feel anything as they ran through the dank hallways. The world around her was hazy, surely she was dreaming. When she finally woke she would tell Jon he'd been right all along about the ironborn hostage, and then he'd hold her in his arms the way he always did and she'd know everything would be alright.
They were close to where the tunnel opened up into the courtyard and Dany could smell fresh air. That's when the shouting of men rang up behind them, filling her with both dread and relief.
Theon shoved her to move faster. "If they catch us," he warned, "I'm a dead man, but I promise the Stark girl will die first."
Daylight stung her eyes, and she was once again wracked with pain. I need to find the Red Woman, she thought as unbidden tears spilled from her eyes.
Dreamfyre, Rhaegal and Viserion were waiting faithfully in the courtyard, and they began to bellow furiously when they saw her. The area around them was devoid of men.
Dreamfyre looked to her for direction. With one word, she could turn Theon into a pile of miserable ashes, but Arya. Jon would not want her to sacrifice his little sister for revenge. That would come later. She would destroy Theon Greyjoy.
Dany patted Dreamfyre's snout to calm him. There was no warmth to his scales as she climbed onto his back, and her grip was weak and shaky as she took hold of his horns. In the light of day she could see the red stains on her hands. Jon's blood. She felt she could retch.
Theon blew out a breath before he climbed up, keeping Arya pinned against his chest. Dreamfyre whipped his head at the murderer and shrieked, but to the turncloak's credit, he did not balk. It must be easy to be brave when failure meant certain death.
"Make it fly," Theon demanded forcefully.
"Sōvegon," Dany muttered, her voice a dead husk.
Dreamfyre did as she commanded and moments later they were in the air. Ghost's howl caught her attention and she saw him standing where she had been only moments ago, and she imagined a sorrowful look on his wolfish face. She'd give anything to go back and throw her arms around the great beast, nuzzle herself against his thick fur.
What is happening? This is a nightmare. I'll wake up, and tell Jon all about it. He'll kiss my forehead and tell me everything is fine.
Theon told her which direction to take, his voice sounding far away. Her thoughts were consumed with little Aemon, and Jon.
"Will Aemon be safe?" she asked, terrified of what answer she might hear.
Theon shifted irritably behind her. "That depends on how things go from here."
She was in a daze, numbness settling over her body once again while Arya sobbed behind her. None of it is real. I'll wake up soon.
Dany spoke while keeping her eyes trained on the sky ahead of her. "I told Jon you weren't the treacherous man he thought you were… but he knew you were false. I should have believed him."
"I want what's mine by right," Theon said defensively, "same as any man."
"By right?" Dany responded, "by rights, Jon was your sovereign and our son, your prince." Nausea bubbled in her gut when she realized she'd used the word was. "Why did you do it?"
Theon cleared his throat. "Because Jon was supposed to be a bastard, and me a lord."