21. Jon

Jon absently ran his fingers over the cool metal cast wolf on his gorget as he watched the scenes below. He felt completely anxious, as he watched his men continuing their preparations. Armours were being fitted and swords being sharpened. The sight of the young lads having their armour fitted filled him with weariness and he sighed. It felt entirely different now that they knew the army of the dead had breached the wall and would be upon them at any moment. They were simply waiting for the call. He'd been checking the details with Ser Davos on the bridge overlooking the courtyard when Gendry had come up to him with a far smaller sized battle wear in hand.

"It's for the Queen," Gendry said and beside him, Ser Davos exhaled.

Jon felt his blood run cold. He looked between the two men, in shock and anger but mostly fear.

"She's fighting?" he questioned the onion knight.

Ser Davos looked uncomfortable. "Aye, that would seem to be the case, Your Grace."

"Where did she get such an idea?" Jon asked through grit teeth looking back at Gendry. The poor lad merely shook his head helplessly.

Ser Davos did not answer immediately. "Perhaps Your Grace should ask her about it? It might not be what you think."

Jon felt his stomach twist uncomfortably at the thought of her fighting, not because he doubted her but because he didn't think he could take it if he ever lost her. He stomped away, towards the Great Hall where he knew her to be.

"Hermione," he called and tried to keep the scowl off his face. His wife looked over, her smile faltering for a moment as she politely excused herself. He pulled her into a quiet little corner of the Hall. It was not overly busy but Jon did not want to chance it. Behind him, he could hear Ser Davos and Gendry come in, lingering not far from earshot.

"Your Grace," Ser Davos said almost nervously but Jon ignored him.

"I'm told you mean to fight?" He asked his voice rough with unchecked fear. Though mayhaps to her it sounded only harsh.

"That is correct," she replied. He had to admire her stubbornness, though he cursed why it should test him so.

"You can't be serious," he snapped and she frowned.

"I'm very serious, my king. I dare not jest about such things." She said solemnly.

"Hermione …"

"Arya's fighting too! And Lady Brienne!" She continued her argument Jon felt his temper flare just so. She didn't seem to truly understand the dangers of this. "If they can fight, then so will I."

"They're trained, far better than you Hermione." Jon reasoned.

"You have boys younger than us both out there, willing to fight for you, Jon!" Her voice carried a little through the hall and Jon could feel the others looking but he cared not for that. "Why not me?" She demanded.

"Because they are not my wife!" Jon snapped. His voice was brittle as it had ever been. He saw her suck in a breath, perhaps at his tone or the fear he knew was in his eyes.

"They answered the call. They are doing their duty, Your Grace," Ser Davos told her when neither of them spoke.

"For their king, correct?" she asked looking over to Ser Davos. Jon was almost tempted to tell Ser Davos not to answer. His wife was clever with her words.

"Yes," the onion knight said.

She looked only at Jon then, "Are you not my king?"

"I am," he answered through grit teeth.

"Are you not my husband?"

"I am."

"Then how do you expect me to just sit here knowing I can help?" She asked crossly.

Jon grabbed her arms, pulling her closer. "How do you expect me to focus on the battle knowing you're out there?"

"And that should be enough reason that I hide away?" she countered. "You said it yourself, Jon, we need every sword we can get. Why should mine be any different?"

"Because I won't watch you die!" he cried harshly. His voice had carried much clearer through the Great Hall now that many of the other conversations had died. Many turned to them curiously. Jon bowed his head unable to look his wife in the eyes.

"And you think I can watch you die?" she whispered sounding very vulnerable. For all the prophecies and legends, nothing about the battle was a guarantee.

He sighed. "Please, Hermione." He sucked in a deep breath, looking at her again. She had tears running down her pale cheeks. "I can't bear to lose you. I need you safe," he said his voice barely above a whisper.

She stepped closer, "Don't you see? Nowhere is safe, Jon. Not unless we make it so. The only way we're going to win is together."

"She's right you know," Bran's voice called causing them to jump a little.

Jon spotted Hermione hastily wiping away her tears as he turned to his brother. The others in the Hall were still casting curious looks their way, and now that Bran had joined them, they were all the more intrigued.

"Bran, she's never been in a battle before. It's too dangerous."

"But I have," Hermione said. "I was in a battle. Back … in my world," she looked down at her arm. "This is not my first war."

"Your wife is right Jon. You can only win this if you fight together." Bran merely continued. He had that far off look again. "He's going to come for me, and so I shall be in the Godswood." He glanced back at Jon. "That is where you must kill him before he kills me."

"Bran! You… you're going to wait the Night King out in the Godswood?" he asked both angry and in disbelief.

"He is coming to kill me, Jon. I cannot lead him to the crypts."

Jon groaned, "Why can't you people just stay safe as I want?" Hermione almost chuckled at his less than pleased look and slightly petulant tone.

"Let her fight, Jon," Bran said. "She is your strength. Do not shy away from that now."

Jon sighed, looking back at his wife. "Why won't you stay down in the crypts where it's safe?"

"Because I am not that type of queen," she told him. He swallowed pulling her close, his thumbs brushing over her tear-stained cheeks. A clearing sound was heard and Jon dropped his hands, taking her hand instead. "You have to promise me something," he said.

"What?" she asked hesitantly.

"Don't make yourself a martyr." He said solemnly. There was a fond smile on her face and she nodded, stepping up a little to kiss his cheeks.

So, they waited, anxiously; for the one single blast of the horn. It made him tense and he worried over every little detail in his head. But then his wife slipped her hand into his and he remembered to breathe again. Jon smiled at Hermione. On these grim days, it was Hermione from whom he drew his strength. She had fallen into her duties as a queen with grace and determination to see their people safe. She had seen to the migration of their people, further south to the strongholds of White Harbour and Moat Cailin.

Taking Hermione with him, Jon left the castle, walking out to their encampments. Their numbers gave him a little more hope now – Daenerys' addition of the Unsullied and Dothraki. Hermione had yet to see the entire host of the Stark men and the free folk. As they stepped out, he heard her gasp beside him. Her eyes darted from one side to the other, taking in the large numbers of soldiers.

Despite the promise their numbers seemed to hold, Hermione looked at him with great concern. "It will be enough, right?"

"I pray it is." Jon was not entirely sure anything would be enough to take on the Night King's army. As it were, a large number of the Stark men were young boys themselves. Most were still green and answering the call of war because there was no one else.

Jon and Hermione walked through the camp, the men bowing their heads respectfully as they passed.

"Dear lord," he heard Hermione mutter her breath, as they reached the far side of the field. Jon thought it was the giant she had spotted but Hermione had barely batted an eye over that. When Jon followed her gaze, he couldn't help but silently echo her sentiments. She gripped his arm a little tighter as she took in the beast.

"They're far bigger than I remember," She said quietly and indeed had been some time since they had caught sight of them flying over Dragonstone. But that had only ever been from a distance, never this close. "Are they still growing?"

Jon shook his head. "Sam doesn't seem to think so."

The men had done their best to avoid coming this close to the dragons. Now only two remained resting on the ground and Jon briefly wondered with some anxiety where the other dragon had gotten to. Hermione was already stepping forward to the dragons and for a moment Jon was in awe of her bravery. He'd seen bigger, war-ready soldiers cower before the beasts. Jon had been hesitant himself.

"Are the dragons like this in your land?" Jon asked.

"A little." Her voice still carried that awed sentiment. "Though perhaps not quite so big."

Quickly he reached for her hand as one of the dragons shifted, its huge head, turning to them. Behind them, he was vaguely aware the men were watching them cautiously. He was a little grateful for that. The dragon closest to them was coloured in green and bronze scales that gleamed against the snow with yellow-orange wings that flexed the closer they got. The dragon raised its head further and looked at Hermione first. Jon was tempted to pull her behind him, but he did not. He did not think it wise to have any sudden movements, especially when the beast watched his wife so keenly. All at once, the dragon turned to him and this time he could see something far deeper than ideal curiosity in its eyes. Jon was almost mad to say it looked a bit like recognition. Hermione seemed to think so too.

"I think he knows who you are." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she squeezed his hand. She leaned in a little closer. "He knows you have dragon blood in you."

It came upon him then, that he did indeed have dragon's blood in him. His father - his true born father - had been the last dragon prince. That was kinship Jon had always ached for. It seemed now that father and son had been preparing for the same war all their lives. His father, Rhaegar Targaryen, had believed in the horrors of the long night as much as Jon did. Unexpectedly, Jon was almost crippled by the weight of his late father's legacy. That was simply something he was not fully accustomed to yet. Bastards are not left with any legacies or prophecies to fulfil. But he had to remind himself that he was no bastard.

Hermione gently nudged him forward, his eyes growing in wide in alarm as his boots crunched the snow beneath them. His breath came out in raspy little clouds as he pulled off his glove. He could still sense Hermione standing behind him but then the dragon moved and all Jon's attention was with the creature. His ferocious teeth were bared and the smell was ghastly but Jon paid that no mind as he reached forward with shaky fingers. He stopped only when the dragon exhaled quite loudly but a few seconds later, he continued. His fingers brushed the green scales of the dragon, almost testing the waters and then slowly he flattened his hand against the surprisingly hot scales. They were strong and rough beneath Jon's touch but he did not remove his hand. The dragon exhaled once more and Jon tensed before shockingly, it leaned into his touch. He chanced a glance over his shoulder to see Hermione beaming. Feeling somewhat braver, he relished in the feel and might of the dragon. The other dragon, a little smaller in size looked at them with great interest but did nothing more. Jon took that as a good sign.

He was quite comfortable when they heard the roar of the third dragon. He looked up to see the red and black dragon circle above them before coming to land. A moment later, he saw Daenerys descending from the dragon. Of course, she rode them, he remembered. Jon stepped back from the green dragon and reached for Hermione. They watched in tense silence as Daenerys marched towards them. They had not intended to come this far out to see the dragons. Her violet eyes jumped from Jon to the dragon and back to Jon. An unreadable expression on her face.

"Jon Snow, I did not think to find you this far out on the eve of battle," Daenerys remarked. Jon noticed her gaze jump and linger on Hermione and instinctively he tightened his grip on her hand. Daenerys looked back at the green and bronze dragon and smiled fondly. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"They're quite magnificent," Jon replied.

She regarded them for a moment before saying, "They usually do not take to strangers too well … though I suppose you're not a stranger, are you?" She hadn't really asked the question and Jon did not feel the need to reply.

Daenerys was watching the one that had kept its distance. Jon had to concede that she was right, they were quite beautiful. This one in white and gold scales with gleaming golden wings.

"That is Viserion," she said looking at the dragon with an almost sad smile. "Named for my brother Viserys. We fled across the Narrow Sea together after Robert Baratheon's victory." Jon resisted the urge to look away. He was quite familiar with his late lord father, Ned Stark's involvement in Robert's victories. Daenerys turned away quite suddenly and for a moment Jon thought she might leave. The red and black dragon she had ridden in on stood some paces back, looking at them. "That is Drogon." Her voice quivered a little and Jon was intrigued by that. "Named for my late husband, Drogo, Khal of the Dothraki."

There was a vulnerability to Daenerys at that moment. One that Jon had not seen before, but he had always been awkward with words and there seemed to be little he could say that would ease her pain. Thankfully, his wife was ahead of him there. "Our condolences to you, Lady Daenerys," Hermione said gently.

Daenerys seemed surprised by Hermione's sincerity and for a moment looked like she might reply before hesitating and deciding against it. She instead looked at the last dragon. The green and bronze that Jon had laid his hand upon. She didn't look away from the dragon as she spoke.

"This is Rhaegal. So named for my first-born brother, Prince Rhaegar. Your father," she finished turning back to Jon.

It seemed odd for Jon to have any connection to Rhaegal simply for the fact that he was named after his father. But he did. This time there was very little hesitance as he reached forward. More surprisingly, Rhaegal leaned forward and into his touch once more. Jon was very aware Daenerys was watching them.

"Is it true?" Jon asked in a whisper. "They say you stepped out of your husband's funeral pyre with three dragons. Is that how they came to be?" He felt Hermione dig her fingers into his arm and wondered if he had crossed a line and asked too much.

But Daenerys did not seem to think so. "It is." She answered looking at them quite calmly. "When the Maegi cursed my husband and unborn son in my womb, there was very little left for me to do."

"You meant to kill yourself?" Hermione asked.

"No. But there was nothing left for Drogo's wife. If I was to be stronger and take back what is rightfully mine," she paused looking at them both for a moment, before continuing, "I would have to be reborn."

"She cursed your son," Jon heard Hermione whisper. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his hand once again, this time he felt the bite a little more.

"And promised that I would bear no more." Daenerys told them "They are the only children I will ever have." She added looking at her dragons.

"Thank you," Hermione said sincerely. "For coming this far with your children. And for staying and agreeing to help us."

Daenerys surprised them both as she smiled. "I cannot deny I am quite impressed by your efforts to save your people. Even when the odds look so against you."

"Were you not afraid?" Hermione asked a moment later. "About stepping into that fire?"

Daenerys smirked. "No. I am a dragon and fire cannot kill a dragon." She was gently nudged by Rhaegal and turned to them with a smile that made Jon nervous. "Would you like to ride him?"

"What?"

"Would you like to ride him, Jon Snow?" she asked smugly.

"Why would you let Jon ride him?" Hermione asked.

"Let's call it a show of good faith. They say only those of true dragon blood can ride one and he is a Targaryen after all." She looked at him and raised a brow, those violet eyes of her trained on him. "Well?"

"Oh… well… eh I've never …" Jon stuttered and he heard Hermione huff in amusement beside him.

"I doubt many people have," Daenerys remarked. "Do not fear, King in the North. I won't let you die."

Jon thought that was terrible humour and even Hermione looked slightly concerned but he had to admit there was a part of him that was eager to try. He looked at his wife and very slowly she nodded. But he could see the hesitancy in her eyes. He exhaled and nodded, something that had Daenerys smirking again. Jon leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Hermione's lips before following Daenerys.

"Go on then, climb up," she said motioning to the side of Rhaegal. She didn't stop to see if he found himself, instead, she mounted Drogon with far better ease than Jon managed to do.

He was not entirely sure what to hold onto and when he looked up across the field, he saw some of their men had turned their attention to him. Whether they were watching in interest or fear, Jon did not know. Hermione gave him one last reassuring nod before he felt the dragon move beneath him. He gripped the spiky horns along the spine as best he could. His fingers grappled with it before he managed to get a good grip. Rhaegal rose, elegantly, higher and higher with each breathe Jon drew. The heavy beat of his wings echoed in Jon's ears and he felt the scales, hot and rough, move under him. As they rose, everything on the ground got smaller, Hermione's lone figure becoming more indistinguishable. The thunderous roar reminded him that he was not up in the skies alone. Daenerys and Drogon flew with seamless ease around him. He heard her call out in a foreign tongue and both dragons turned. Jon grabbed the spikes again so as not to fall off, as they flew over the encampment. As Rhaegal steadied himself, Jon righted himself on the dragon. Rhaegal dipped a little lower as Drogon flew above them. Jon could barely make out the shocked looked of his men as he flew by. As they neared the castle, Rhaegal rose once more, a little further above the castle and then they flew over the Godswood, right over the Wierwood tree where he and Hermione were married. Rhaegal flew up, higher than he had before and Jon flattened himself on the dragon's back as the wind whipped over him. The icy wind was like a thousand needle pricks against his flushed face. He felt Rhaegal's muscles move again as his wings beat furiously and then all too quickly he stopped, falling into an easy glide across the frozen lands of the North.

That rendered Jon speechless. For the first time since getting up on the dragon, he was able to catch his breath. He was vaguely aware of Daenerys and Drogon coming up beside him. But all he could see was the snow-covered Winterfell and the armies of the North. Perhaps they did stand a chance after all.

He turned to Daenerys but found that she was already looking at him with a knowing smile. "Everything looks a little less impossible when seen from up here." She gave him one last look before speaking again, in that same unfamiliar tongue he had heard before.

Again, both dragons followed her command and dropped a little lower and they flew over the encampment once more. All too soon Rhaegal was nearing the ground and Jon gripped the spikes a little tighter as they landed quite roughly. He was jostled a little as the dragon shook himself. Jon let go, his fingers still shaking and his legs feeling numb. He managed to get off Rhaegal with the minimum fuss as Drogon landed beside them.

Hermione rushed up to him and he could see the relief clear as day in her eyes. She hugged him close and though he was still a little shaky he returned it. When he pulled back he could see her worry had melted into excitement.

"Jon! I can't believe you did that," she whispered. "What was it like?"

He chuckled though it sounded a little breathless. "I'll tell you when I get the feeling back in my legs. Want to give it a try? You've already done it once before." He teased her.

Hermione shook her head. "No! Once was enough thank you!"

"That was rather impressive," Daenerys said. Though Jon heard what she didn't say, that he was indeed a true born Targaryen, after all.

"Thank you, for that," Jon said sincerely. "You're right." She didn't bother to hide her look of surprise. "Everything does seem a little less impossible from up there."

Daenerys smiled. "Then let us hope you can do the impossible and win this war."

Hermione threaded her arm through his, silently helping to steady him as his legs still felt a little uncertain. "Lady Daenerys, I know you said you would be fighting in the battle but perhaps you would like to join us in the crypts tonight, before?" his wife asked.

"I do not know how well received that would be Lady Hermione," Daenerys replied.

"You are a guest of ours," Hermione insisted. "Please know that you have the guests right here and that you are welcome at Winterfell."

Daenerys looked oddly impressed; Jon had to guess. "Thank you," Daenerys said. She looked at them both at then turned and walked towards where Ser Jorah stood waiting for her.

Jon turned to Hermione and smiled. "That was very generous of you, milady."

"I thought it only right," Hermione replied chewing her lip nervously. "Have I overstepped again?"

Jon stopped them and pulled her a little closer. She gasped at looked around the camp blushing a little. He had forgotten they were not alone. "You are a queen Hermione. It is well within your right to offer such things." He reminded her. He leaned in a little more and her gloved fingers grasped the fur of his coat. "It was the right thing to do."

She smiled, relieved and he closed the last bit of space between them, kissing her sweetly. He had to remind himself that they were in the middle of the camp and quickly pulled away. When she smiled at him again, he tucked her hand into his elbow and led them out of the encampments and back to the castle. They had a brief chat with Gendry who was working on the last bit of weapons for the battle. Ser Davos was among the many commanders in the courtyard. He nodded at them as they passed.

As Jon moved, more feeling was restored to his legs and his face warmed a little. They descended into the crypts, ignoring the curious looks they received in the courtyard. The crypts were far warmer than above, torches had been lit along the walls and he could see the supplies stacked against one wall.

The crypts had been prepared for all those who remained at Winterfell but would or could not fight. His sisters were both here, but he knew Arya would be fighting alongside their men. Sansa would be safe in the crypts along with Gilly and baby Sam. He didn't bother hiding his worry that Hermione would not be in the crypts with them. She seemed to sense his unease and grasped his hand a little tighter.

Jon admired both Hermione's bravery and stubbornness despite how nervous it made him. Having someone to fight for felt very different from simply fighting to win. Even now, he'd checked over the battle wear she had commissioned and had to admit, Gendry had done a remarkable job. Jon had still tried to dissuade her at least one more time against fighting but she would hear not of it. Word had gotten around very quickly that their queen would be fighting with them. Jon had thought more people would have objected, calling it inappropriate, but it seemed to inspire and motivate their men a little more. The men were calling her the Warrior Queen, and though it made him nervous, it made him far more proud.

Sansa and Arya were standing before the statue of their father. The candles at his feet were already lit and incense burning. Sansa offered him a soft smile and quietly walked down the line to where her brother's statue stood.

Jon stood in front of Eddard Stark's statue for the longest of time as Hermione joined his sisters elsewhere in the crypt. He thought of nothing but the man who had raised him like a son. Love him like his own. He was not angry that he'd been named a bastard, not if it meant he had the privilege of calling Ned Stark, father. Jon tried to remember his father's strength and resolve and, at that moment, prayed to the gods to give him the same.

There was some odd commotion sometime later as more people filed into the crypts. He looked around and saw it was now mostly full. Sansa was there with the Imp surprisingly and the Spider. Daenerys lingered in the corner uncertainly for a bit but watched everything with keen eyes and Hermione had been speaking with Gilly some short distance away.

Beside Eddard Stark stood Jon's mother. Even in stone, Jon could tell of her beauty. His fingers shook but he took the stick from Hermione and lit the candles at his mother's feet. He stood there for the longest time, simply staring at Lyanna Stark, wondering. Hermione had thoughtfully given him so space and distracted the others who so often sought their King out.

"Hermione?" Jon called quietly some time later. He worried for a moment that she would not hear him. But she did.

"Hmm?" She came up beside him, slipping her hand into his easily.

"Promise me something." He didn't ask. He looked at his mother's statue as he spoke.

"What will you have me promise?"

"If we lose …" he swallowed thickly, pausing for a moment at that awful reality, "If we lose, I need you to promise that you will go South. No matter what, you will leave and get somewhere safe." He was careful to keep his voice low, already he knew people were always watching them.

"Jon – "

"Promise me that you will leave and take whomever you can with you." He all but demanded of her. "Promise me!"

He could hear her stutter and she gripped his cloak in her tiny hands and when her words completely failed her; she buried her head in his chest, only nodding so he knew she would do as he asked. There were murmurings around them but he ignored it all.

He was grateful and felt a sense of relief. He trusted that she would keep her word. As much as it would pain her to do so. He hugged her a little closer and they stood in front of his mother's statue, both silently praying to all the Gods that would hear them.

Jon was running soothing circles on Hermione's hand as stood together. It seemed almost unfair that now at the very end he would get all the answers he wanted. Jon looked at his mother, the one figure that had always just been a blank face in his dreams. All this time, the truth had been so close. He always wondered what he would feel like once he discovered the truth. He had assumed such truths would make him feel whole, like an entire part of him was no longer missing. What he had not accounted to feel was pride. Because it was pride that he felt knowing who his mother – and father if he was willing to admit – were. They had both sacrificed so much for him, and their people. Jon could understand that.

For a brief moment, he felt his resolve waiver and he exhaled. Hermione turned to him, pressing their heads together and whispered so quietly, as it was only for him, whispered, "I can see it now."

"See what?"

"Your parents." Hermione smiled. "By all accounts, you certainly have your mother's looks, in that hair and eyes. But your father is there too." She told him pulling back a little and looking closer than she had ever done before. "Little hints of indigo in those wise grey eyes of your." He chuckled embarrassedly at that. "And there's that resolve… and compassion." She finished. "In more ways than you realise, you are Rhaegar and Lyanna's son." Jon got the feeling she wanted him to be proud of that. "Your father wanted to protect his people. As do you. Your mother loved fiercely and was loyal and brave and she gave her life for what she believed in. As much as you have Jon." She sighed. "Do not doubt yourself, love. I have faith in you. I always have." She pulled back a little more, a smile on her face. "Besides you can't die, remember? I'm not done being married to you."

Jon nodded, chuckling slightly, his fingers buried into her hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and said, "I love you." It struck him that perhaps he did not say that nearly enough to her.

"I love you too," She replied. They held to each other at that moment, completely unbothered by those around them. He closed his eyes, not moving away as he silently fixed his strength.

And then they heard it. One long blast of the horn. They all looked up, understanding with grave clarity what that meant.

It was time. The Night King's army had finally arrived.

War was finally upon them.

Thank you to all those that have decided to stick with this story! I am truly overwhelmed with the response it has received. And i am especially glad to see that despite not having her magic, Hermione still appeals to so many of you! Things are going to get very intense in the coming chapters! Next update will be next week Monday!

Stay safe!