It was dark when Daenerys crept into Jon's chambers. They were as richly appointed as her own, as was only fitting for a king, if perhaps a little smaller, more intimate. Jon had little taste for grandeur, Winterfell was elegant and noble. But practicality reigned supreme in the North, and at the Wall especially. Any warmth or ornamentation in Winterfell had come from Sansa and her mother before her.
They were hosted at Riverrun this time, also Sansa's doing no doubt. Edmure Tully had greeted them and their courts warmly enough, a look of deep sadness only briefly crossing his face when he saw Jon. Sadness for a sister lost and lied to, manipulated as part of the cruel web of lies that had kept Jon safe. Catelyn Stark – or what had remained of her – would never know what she had done for her nephew.
Daenerys found Jon sitting in a chair facing the fire. She knew he only lit it for her sake, spring was almost there, and Jon had both ice and fire in his veins. The cold never seemed to bother him, as the heat rarely did her. He had a horn of ale in his hand which she took and drank from as she sat down in the deep plush chair next to his. She grimaced at the taste. She hated ale.
"Give that back," Jon grumbled, though his voice was mellow from the ale. She wondered how much he had had. She hadn't seen him that day other than through windows. Jon had been in the training yard, showing Edmure's son some of the finer points of swordplay. Hosteen Tully was barely four, only just old enough to hold a practice sword, but adored stories of great knights and princes and had been awestruck by her King. He followed Jon everywhere, asking questions about the war and the Wall and Wildlings, red curls bouncing as he ran and blue eyes shining with admiration. Jon could not have refused the child if he tried.
Daenerys remembered what Davos had said to her earlier. "He's been in a right mood since you were last together." There had been a pointed look to accompany it, one that reminded he that while her love could protect himself from any physical danger, he was vulnerable to emotional damage.
"There is wine on the table. From the Arbour I think." Jon's voice brought her back to the present.
Handing the horn back to Jon she found the wine he had set out for her. He was thoughtful like that. With everything he did others were always put first, never himself. Sansa said it was just how he showed love, how he cared for people. Arya said it was how he fought feeling heartsick. Daenerys thought they both had the truth of it.
"Did Davos tell you I was brooding." Jon gave her a weak smile and the fire cast strange shadows over his face. His Hand had called on him that morning, with a stack of paperwork that still sat untouched on his desk. "I've been thinking about last time."
Daenerys' heart stopped for a moment, and the world seemingly slowed around her, thinking back to her trip to Dragonstone three moons past, and the secrets she found within the mountain.
"If I can prove the witch wrong, I want you to marry me." This was not the first time Jon Snow had proposed to Daenerys Targaryen. Not even the first this trip. When he had helped her down from Drogon when she arrived, he had whispered in her ear how he wanted to steal her away in the wildling custom, that all she had to do was say the word. There had been no time for them to have this conversation that night, between the feasting first on food and then each other. They had been apart so long that they were desperate for the comfort of each other's bodies.
But those proposals he made about spiriting her away, making him hers and her his in the eyes of gods and men rarely had any real weight to them. It was one thing to talk about how to rule in tandem, speculate how marriage between two ruling monarchs of separate kingdoms would work. It was quite another to propose to do it. The North would never again bend the knee to a King who didn't have the blood of Starks and ice in their veins. Jon had been lucky they had not deposed him when his true parentage was exposed. A few had tried until the other houses had put a stop to it. You were prepared to crown a base-born bastard but not the blood of kings? Lyanna Mormont had roared, more anger in her small frame than anyone had believed possible. He's as much a Stark as he was before, and who fathered him doesn't change his deeds. She had yelled about oath breakers and called those northern lords craven and worse until they had sat back down.
But there was real weight in this proposal, one that would satisfy them both. "I mean it Dany. I want to be yours and you to be mine. I want babes with our colourings mixed, and I want to wake up in the morning with you beside me, to be able to kiss you and claim you for all the world to see." His eyes bored into hers. "Fuck the kingdoms and fuck witches. You are what I care about. And I want to make you happy."
It was all she could do not to launch herself at him, to kiss him and tell him it was all she wanted, to fuck him then and there and make him spill his seed in her. But she restrained herself. "Riverrun's Godswood has a Weirwood." She said instead, watching as his head tilted when she mentioned the sacred places of the North. Wheels turned in her mind, and she realised it was why Sansa suggested they meet here. She had known what Jon planned, of course she did.
His face twisted in surprise, as though he hadn't expected her to agree to readily. "Are you . . ?" Jon asked, voice low and reverent.
Daenerys shook her head, she had had her blood not two weeks past. "No, but I found something on Dragonstone that made the decision for me." She smiled at him. "Something I will show you when I am."
His breath hitched at that. "What did you find?" He asked breathlessly.
"Something you will find out when you get a child on me, Jon Snow." She teased. It hurt her to keep the eggs a secret, alongside the visions she had had. But Jon was not one for believing in signs and portents and she would not trouble him with them.
Jon stood from his chair to kneel in front of her and took her hands in his. "Then I ask you again, Daenerys Stormborn, when I prove the witch wrong, and your womb begins to quicken, will you marry me?"
"I don't know much of the old gods," Daenerys said, her heart leaping in her chest. "But it seems to me that this is the sort of agreement that should be made in front of them."
Jon nodded in agreement. "Tonight then. We meet in the Godswood in an hour, you bring your witness and I'll bring mine." He stood, reaching for Long Claw to belt it over his tunic, before leaning over to kiss Daenerys, hungry and deep. He broke the kiss and went to the door, grabbing his cloak on his way to find Davos.
It was nearing midnight when Jon made his way into the Godswood, Ghost padding silently beside him and Davos trailing behind, blearily wiping his eyes. The moon hung fat and full in the night sky, bathing the trees in a silvery light so bright they did not need torches. Drogon and Rhaegal were already there. They liked to sleep in Godswoods, often because they were the only place large enough for them, but also because they were imbued with the magic of the old Gods and they could feel it.
"She accepted then." The old smuggler said bluntly, a statement, not a question. He was a man of few words normally, but displeased to have his sleep disturbed because his king wanted to do this now. Davos was firmly of the opinion that this could have waited, but he supposed the King and his Queen had waited long enough.
"Aye."
Good, Davos thought. The sooner his King married, the sooner he could dispense with the lords who paraded their daughters before the King like livestock. Every one of them eager to be grandfather to a king and to reap the benefits that came with it, regardless of what their daughters, or the current King, thought. If Sansa hadn't told him it kept up appearances, Jon would have done away with the whole charade. Not that she was any better at entertaining the idea of suitors. When men came seeking her hand Ser Brienne was suddenly always at her side, always fully armoured, with her hand resting on her sword. Jon had told Sansa she was to marry for love and nothing else, but Sansa could not even entertain the idea of love.
"She will be a good match." Was what Davos did say, thinking of the letter he would need to send to Winterfell, telling Sansa she would be planning her brother's wedding before the spring raven came. Ahead of him Jon stopped, they had reached the Heart Tree.
It was an old, gnarled thing with a face that spoke of loss and longing, of dreams for a better future. There were bloody buds on its branches, and its white bark shone silver in the light of the full moon. Jon unsheathed Long Claw and planted it in the ground as he knelt before the tree, lips moving in a silent prayer to the old gods. Ghost sat beside his master his red eyes seeming to stare into those of the Weirwood.
Satisfied with his prayer Jon stood again, turning his back to the tree as he stared into the darkness, waiting for his queen to emerge.
And when she did, she was glorious; wearing a gown of the softest purple silk that hugged all of her curves and set off her violet eyes. A delicate cloak of silver-grey fur was wrapped around her shoulders and its deep hood pulled up to shadow her face. Jon recognised it as a gift from Arya, that had been given with a sly comment about the North being too cold for dragon blood. Missandei trailed behind Daenerys, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Davos gave her a sympathetic look, it seemed he was not the only one dragged from their bed because of their monarch's desire.
When Daenerys reached Jon he gently pushed her hood down and resisted the urge to kiss her then and there. Under the light of the full moon her hair shone like spun silver, making her seem an ethereal goddess. We are here for a reason and it will not do to get distracted now,he reminded himself. Instead, he held her hands gently, rubbing her knuckles with one calloused thumb.
Standing there beneath the Weirwood Jon looked every inch the Warrior King, dark eyes not wavering from her own and a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He wore his crown, she realised, a hammered bronze circlet with iron spikes - he rarely wore it, saying that a man who had to say he is the king is no king – and flakes of gently falling snow landed in his hair.
"Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen," Jon began, his Northern drawl pulling at the vowels of her name and titles, ringing in the clearing. She could listen to him recite them all night. More than once she had. "Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, and Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, I call you here today to ask you for your hand in marriage, to unite our kingdoms and our claims in a pact of understanding, to take you to wife in the eyes of god's and men, to father your children. I will allow no harm to come to you and your people."
"Aegon of houses Stark and Targaryen," Daenerys replied, a warmth blossoming in her chest as she spoke. "Known as Jon Snow, The King in the North, King of the First Men, and Protector of the Free Folk beyond the Wall. The 998th Commander of the Nights Watch, The Bastard of Winterfell, Hero of the Dawn, the Risen, The White Wolf. I accept your proposal if you will have me on one condition, you prove the witch who killed my first husband wrong. Then I will marry you in the eyes of God's and men, bear your children and unite our Kingdoms."
Jon raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it lightly, "I accept these terms, by the Old Gods and the New."
"Then by the Old Gods and the New, by the Red God Rhollor, the Horse God, and the Dragon Gods of Old Valyria, when my womb quickens, and it becomes certain I will bear a living child, I will take you as my husband, to rule side by side for the good of both our kingdoms, so that they will have both prosperity and peace." Daenerys pulled Jon's hands to her mouth and kissed them. "This I swear, in front of our chosen witnesses who will keep us to our pact."
They stood there for what felt like an eternity, gazing into each other's eyes. Before Daenerys reached up to brush the curl that had sprung free from its tie from Jon's face, tucking it behind his ear.
Sensing their presence was no-longer required, Davos offered Missandei his arm. "Allow me to escort you back to the keep, my lady."
She gave the barest hint of a smile as she took the old Knight's arm. He reminded her of her own father. "They cause us such trouble don't they?"
"Aye," He agreed. "But maybe we will get part of that problem solved soon."
"Very soon." Missandei said with a smile as they left their monarchs to their own devices. "Though the solution will bring more problems."
Davos snorted at that, imagining what havoc their monarchs' children would cause.
"Daenerys." Jon murmured into her lips. She loved the way her name sounded falling from his mouth, the sight roll on the 'r' and elongated vowels. "Has anyone ever told you that you are the most beautiful creature to walk this land?"
She smiled, purple eyes meeting grey ones filled with lust. From this angle and in the light of the full moon, she could see the barest hint of lilac in his grey eyes, the only trace of his true father. "You have" she murmured, kissing him deeply. "So, so many times my King."
That was enough to elicit a growl from Jon as he pushed her back against the Weirwood, hands moving fervently over her torso and hips to her breasts. She only called him her King when she wanted him to fuck her so hard she wouldn't walk tomorrow, and he was only too happy to oblige as he sucked at the pulse point on her neck, leaving a bruise that only the highest of Northern collars would cover, marking her as his own.
"Here?" She asked as she pulled at the tie that kept his hair out of his face, and setting his crown aside, wanting to run her fingers through his curls in the way she knew he liked.
"Here." He affirmed.
"The whole keep will see us."
"Let them," Jon growled before kissing her hungrily as her nails scratched at his scalp, setting his curls sprawling. God's, she loved how he looked with his hair loose, it took some of the age from his face. "It's not like I don't intend to marry you." He pulled up the edge of her dress and found she had worn nothing underneath it. "I think you planned this."
A sly smile played across Daenerys lips. "Mayhaps. But I did think we would make it inside the keep before you lost control like this." She pressed her hand against his trousers, feeling the hardness that lay behind the soft leather. "Though I think you are enjoying it."
"You had better be careful my Queen, I won't be able to consummate our pact if you keep that up. And I have every intention of leaving you with a babe tonight." The last part came out as a hoarse whisper as she massaged his length through his trousers. His voice so heavy with desire made the heat pool between her legs. He ran his hands up her thighs, gently massaging them as he pushed his knee between hers, and when his fingers brushed against her core the found the evidence of her own arousal. "I've barely touched you and you're all ready for me." He moved to kneel, to worship her like the goddess she was, butshe stopped him.
"We can do that later." Their eyes met, burning with passion as she made quick work of his cloak, and sword belt before moving to the laces of his breeches. "For now, I want you inside of me."
Jon growled like the wolf he was as she pulled him free and hooked her left leg around his right hip pulling him close, one slim hand guiding him to her entrance. When he took her, she was so caught up in ecstasy she didn't notice the bark ruining her dress
"I think you were always right." Daenerys whispered when they are lying in bed together the next morning. They had made it back to the keep eventually, and then to her rooms which were closest. She is nestled into Jon with her back against his chest and his hand resting over her womb, as though willing his seed to take root there.
"Hm?"
"About the witch." She continues. "During the war, there was a time my blood came late and heavier than it ever had. At the time I thought it was the stress of it all, my blood has never been the most regular. But it was bad that time. The more I think about it the more I realise what happened"
"After the Trident?" Jon remembered that she had been ill, he had been worried because there was a sickness in the camps. She has spent two days locked in her chamber and when she emerged, she was pale and drawn. "Dany I'm so sorry." He pulled her tighter and buried his face in her hair. "I wish I'd known."
"I'm glad I didn't." She replied as she played idly with the fingers of his burned right hand, fingers running over the marred flesh bending each of his fingers in like he did when he was stressed. "I don't know if I would have made it through that sane. Not then."
"You would have." He said in a voice thick with love for her. "I'd have been there for you."
"You could barely look at me then."
That was true. The fighting at the Trident had started shortly after the reveal of Jon's parentage, and it had taken a long time for him to reconcile those feelings withing himself, and for her to accept that he had no intentions of chasing his birth right. That he was not who he thought he was and that she was his blood. He had drawn so deeply within himself that not even Ghost could ease his distress. The battlefield had been the only place he felt like he knew himself because it was the one thing that hadn't changed. Killing was killing.
"I'd have been there for you Dany." It came out as a whisper. "Because even in those moments I loved you and would have done anything for you. And I'll be there next time" He kissed her behind her ear, in the spot he knew made her stomach flutter. "I love you Daenerys Stormborn, I think I always will."
Daenerys wiggled in his arms, turning her body so she was facing him, to cup his face with her hand. Drinking in the love she saw in his solemn eyes she saw he told the truth, ever a man of honour. "I love you too, Jon Snow."
Over breakfast members of their courts complained of hearing hauntings coming from the Godswood, and the Queen had given her King a wry smile as she played with her braid and announced that she intended to visit Winterfell when they were done with negotiations.