Wow, thank you guys sooo much for the great response to the first chapter. I wrote this up right after because i didn't want the idea to leave my head so I decided to post it soon after. The next chapters won't come so quick (like a day after haha) but I'll be sure to get it out if you guys enjoy this. Thank you to:

Guest

Lillian81

suppes1

DarylDixon'sLover

zara

Check out these lovely reviewers next time you can, and thanks to the followers and favorites. You guys make me so happy! Hope you enjoy :)

It had been a year.

Jon could remember the horrors every day he had gone through when they had sieged Kings Landing a year ago. But nothing compared to the pain he felt within himself.

Jon never wanted to have any claim to a throne. He never wanted to be someone that others thought as important. For most of his life, all he ever wanted was to gain the respect of his father and to become a true-born Stark. Hell, even to prove to Catelyn that he was worthy.

But that had all been bullshit. Everything was bullshit now.

From the moment Sam told him of his true parentage, he knew nothing would ever be the same between him and Dany, but he never thought it would have gotten to the point where he would have to make the ultimate decision in either killing her or killing the world.

And he had killed her.

And now, a year later, and many sleepless nights, he regretted it. Intensely.

It wasn't just the screams of the people burning, the shouts of pain from the soldiers, or the crumbling of buildings. It was her eyes. That look of utter betrayal and a mixture of love as he plunged a sword deep into her heart and sent her to the floor, feeling her die in his arms. It was that pain that he was pretty sure was supposed to be for Daenerys, was inside of him.

When Drogon had flown into the throne room and roared in anguish at his dead mother, melting down the Iron Throne, all Jon could do was watch as he carried her away. Right after, Greyworm had rushed in and asked what happened, and Jon had said everything. He had told them he had killed her, and they had dragged him off to a cell.

In all honesty, he deserved that cell. He deserved to be locked up and never seen again because every part of him regretted killing her. At the time, he had still been reeling from the news of who he was, of what his life meant, and what his past meant more. He had still been coming to terms with it.

Yes, the idea had shocked him at first, but after some time, it wasn't even that horrible of an idea. Marrying cousins and family members was standard practice, and at the end of the day, it wasn't like they were siblings like Cersei and Jaime. They had never known each other, had never been related in any nature until they met, and out of everyone, he had loved her.

More than anyone.

Many people would be confused about why, but there were so many reasons. She had been kind and sweet to those who needed it but was ruthless and hard when she knew she had to be and knew when to keep people in line and rule. She made sure she put others' needs before her own but didn't fight when people went against her ideals in the end. She had always made sure to help him, and he would help her.

But then she lost most of her men, and then her main protector, Jorah, and then one of her best friends, Missandei, and then another one of her dragons…and he had been dumb enough to say he couldn't love her more than a queen.

And fuck was he wrong.

In all honesty, he had done it because of Tyrion, because he had said that if he didn't kill her, she would go after his family. And killing her should have been the last thing on his mind, for fuck's sake. He could have talked her down, agreed with her on things, tried to make her see that people would bend to her if she compromised, but he had been dumb and went along with the stupid decision of killing her.

And now, he was haunted by it every day. There had been so many moments when he would just stare at a fire, seeing her face etched into the flames, their moments of solitude before everything went to shit.

He had loved Ygritte, but that paled in comparison to the love he felt for Daenerys. And he never had the chance to truly tell her. And now he never would.

Once they had sent him off to the wall to live the rest of his life as a 'man of the Night's Watch,' a part of him wanted them to just kill him. He didn't deserve the chance at living in this world after what he had done. But after he returned to the North and left to go North of the Wall with Tormund and Ghost, he decided to make his own pathway and not follow whatever the fuck Bran was now.

It was strange. Sansa was Queen of the North – something in all honesty he was glad to pass down. A part of him didn't even understand why the North needed independence considering they had been in so many situations where the outside help from the kingdoms surrounding them had helped them, but at the end of the day, it was someone else's problem. He loved the North fiercely and his family, and he hoped that she was well. He had made it a point to keep his distance just in case Bran was watching.

Arya was off exploring the world, something he wished he had taken her up on and gone along with it. A true wish of his is to somehow find where Drogon had taken Daenerys and give her the proper burial she deserved but knew that was practically impossible. So it was something he just had to put up with.

Wherever she had gone, he hoped Arya was happy.

But Bran was a whole other level of difference. Out of everyone, Bran was the one he least expected to ever take the Throne or rule. He had never wanted to rule ever, and now he ruled over six kingdoms. He barely spoke and put a lot of his work on the people around him, but Jon knew that it was mainly because of the ravens he could warg into, the ways he could watch others. And that's what followed him everywhere he went.

He felt like he was watching him from a distance, trying to make sure he didn't come back south. And he never would unless Dany was there. So let him die in the North in peace.

Every part of him felt disgusted with who he was. The only good thing that came in his life now that he had was from Ghost, who constantly came to him to try and comfort him.

"Snow."

Jon glances up and sees Tormund coming over to his tent. Since Jon had joined the wildlings again and moved to the wall, he had taken it upon himself to camp a little further away from them. As much as he did care for them and Tormund, he would rather stay by himself and away from others so he didn't anger them with his constant nightmares.

And it seemed that they didn't care. He would go on hunts with them, eat with him, talk with them, but at the night he would move away. Tormund, on the other hand, would regularly try to come over to him to talk and make sure he wasn't dead.

Sometimes he really wished he was.

"Just woke up, Bane," he mumbles, rubbing the snow out of his hair. "What are you doing knocking at my tent this early?"

"Some 'a the folks said they heard ya screamin'. Came over to make sure ya were okay."

Jon bites his lip and sighs, shaking his head. "Sorry 'bout that…nightmare."

Just the constant terror that haunted him each fucking night, except this one felt all too real. Instead of him just stabbing her this time, she had burned right at the stake, screaming and staring at him in some Valyrian language he barely understood, and he woke up feeling the fire overtake him before he realized he was still in the Northern tundra.

"Was it the regular one?" Tormund asks.

Jon shakes his head. Tormund was also the only one he confided in when it came to his nightmares. He was the only one who really understood since he had been through a lot of battles with him too.

"No…different one. Just a bad one."

Tormund nods gently and rests a hand on the man's shoulder. "I understand. I still get the nightmares, too."

Jon offers a bitter smile, but inside he knew the wildlings didn't understand completely. Yes, they knew of battle. Of loss. Of everything else combined. But they would never understand the betrayal he felt within himself. That was something he and only he should ever experience.

"We're going to be going on an expedition soon," Tormund states. "Leaving today. Need a place to settle while the wind whips down."

Jon nods. Even he had been feeling the cold a little bit more lately. Maybe finding somewhere warmer would be the best option for them.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

The man nods and clasps his shoulder before heading back to the rest of the freefolk. He sighs and looks down at the ground, before feeling Ghost nudge his side.

"I know, boy. I know." He pets the direwolf on the head and then gets up. "Might as well follow along and not starve in these hills." Even if a part of him wanted to.

So with that, he started to pack up his things, heading off to where the others were waiting for him.

By the time they had reached an abandoned village due to the weather, Jon had frost in his beard and snow falling down the small of his back. But the coldness persevered and stayed true to where he stood.

Tormund leads some of the others towards the houses, helping a few get settled. Jon watches as Ghost walks towards some of the children wildlings, letting them pet him.

For the first time in a while, Jon feels himself smile a little. Maybe Ghost would be in good hands if something happened to him.

He glances towards the edge of the town and walks forward, seeing a house right around the corner. His eyes then move to the cliffs that lay beneath it, casting a shadow to the depths below. They were so high he was surprised there would be a town here, but he couldn't help but feel drawn to it. The height, the fall...it would be quick.

What would happen if he just jumped? If he just let go of everything. Ghost would be in good hands, the wildlings could take care of themselves, and his family – or once-family – was safe. They were doing their own duties, and he was…well, here. Living through pain.

And jumping off would take away the pain. The voices. The screaming. The crying. Her voice.

With every thought that came, Jon stepped closer and closer, until his feet were practically hanging off. His mind was flurried as much as the snow surrounding him, whipping in the wind, and the urge to just let go and fall was high. But right before he did, a small voice reaches out to him.

"Your life is not yours to take," the voice whispers, echoing. "You are meant for something greater. He is the only one who can take it."

Jon instantly steps back, frightened. This was it. The Targaryen madness was settling on him now, the same way it did Daenerys – without any warning. "Fuck off!" he whispers fiercely, trying to urge the voice out.

"Look, Snow."

Suddenly, everything turns quiet. He hears nothing but the rush of the wind. The sound of the wildlings was gone, along with the giggling of the children; nothing. It was silent.

Until he heard a soft cry come from inside the house he stood next to.

He turns his head gently towards the house and furrows his brow, walking towards it. The crying starts to increase, getting louder and louder until he could finally pinpoint what the cry was. It was a baby.

He gently opens the door, having to pry it open with a bit of strength due to the freezing cold snow. He steps inside, glancing around, until his eyes settle on a small bundle over in the corner, gently wiggling in its blanket. He walks over, leaning down and picking up the small baby.

Instantly, it stops crying as soon as he picks it up. He gently moves the blanket away from the babe's face, and feels his past start to haunt him.

It was a girl, with little tufts of light blonde hair. Almost white. Just like Daenerys'.

"Where in the seven hells did you come from?" he asks gently, resting a hand on her forehead to make sure she wasn't sick. She was warm, but it didn't feel like she was in danger. She giggles as soon as he touches her cheek, grabbing at his thumb.

There was something about this baby. He didn't know what, but there was something…she reminded him so much of Dany, but there was no way this was in any way hers. She was dead, gone, and even so, she said she couldn't get pregnant. There was no possible way.

Then why did this feel so…natural?

"Snow!"

The door bursts open and Jon instantly jumps and clings the babe close to him, feeling it snuffle at the noise.

"Fucking took ya forever! Your fucking hearing broken or some sh-" Tormund's eyes look upon him and he instantly freezes at seeing the baby. He walks over and peeks in. "Who the fuck is this little buddy?" he whispers, tickling the baby on the cheek. The girl giggles. Jon shrugs his shoulders.

"I…I heard her crying. Came in here and found her on the ground." Tormund looks back up at him, brow raised.

"She has your eyes," he jokes. Jon's brow raises and he looks down at the baby. He was right. The little girl had dark brown eyes, so brown they did remind him of his own. Almost the same shape, too. But the hair was just so…different. But real. Everything was so real. Everything felt real. This was too much.

"It's not like she's mine," Jon states, shaking his head. "Impossible. Don't even make the comment. She's just here."

"We're not gonna talk 'bout the hair?"

"Tormund." His voice was firm. "She's dead."

Just saying that hurt his heart more, but he knew he needed to because if he didn't, Tormund would keep stating stuff that just didn't make sense. And Jon needed to, for his own sanity.

Tormund quietly nods and sighs.

"I'm sorry. Just never seen a babe like this." He looks back at Jon, brow furrowed. "We can't just leave it to die, though. Miracle it survived this long in here. Wonder where the parents are."

"Yeah." Jon looks down at the baby and sighs. "You're right. We can't leave her."

"Well, c'mon," he states. "Let's get the babe warm and bring it to a fire." Jon nods and follows after him, feeling the baby fall asleep against him. The little tufts of blonde hair blow in the wind and Jon feels himself stroke the girls cheek gently.

His world felt like it was over. Everything he had worked for, gone. But this girl had appeared out of nowhere. And maybe, it was a chance to rebuild what was left of his life. A chance to maybe do something right.

Even if this girl reminded him of her, so much, he knew it was what he needed to do.

"You'll be safe now," he whispers, stroking her cheek. "No one will hurt you…Dany." That was it. That would be her name. Not the full, because he didn't deserve to use that name. But he would at least honor the woman that he knew deserved better than what he gave her. "You'll be here with me, and I won't let harm come to you. Ever."

He holds her close, and then gently walks towards the fire, making sure that she was as warm as she could be.

So there ya go, the twin is with Jon. We about to get into this shit, boyyyy.

Seriously, thank you guys so much for the great reply, it really means the world. As always, love it? hate it? Want to send me flying off a cliff? Let me know in the reviews and I will try to cater because I love criticism lol don't forget to follow and favorite, and I'll see you guys in the next chapter. This is about to get real :)

Thank you all and enjoy your day!