Disclaimer: Characters and past storylines belong to the series creators and George R.R. Martin.

Not sure how I feel about this (i'm still trying to find Jon's voice) but it's been a month, so here it is. Thanks for reading.

'O thou whose face hath felt the Winter's wind, whose eye has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist,
and the black elm tops, 'mong the freezing stars...
whose only book has been the light of supreme darkness which thou feddest on night after night...
And yet my song comes native with the warmth... and he's awake, who thinks himself asleep.'

from O thou whose face hath felt the Winter's wind by John Keats

Jon

❄️

It was on the fourth day during the morning meal in the great hall, that she asked him to tell her what he had held back that earlier evening.

"I am well enough to hear what you have to say," She assured him.

He sighed unsure how to tell her of the Night King, but nodded in agreement none-the-less.

"Later, in the afternoon, would be better I think. I have matters I must attend to as I'm sure you do as well."

It had not taken him long to realize she often attempted to maintain control in their conversations, and for the most part, it did not bother him. He was familiar after all, with the way nobles spoke, and though he was one of them, it was only in title. On this occasion he was not exactly pleased with her words, though it was the most sensible plan, so he said nothing to contradict her, and only nodded again. He was more preoccupied with how he would explain what he knew, than to best her in her game of words.

They did not say much else after that, only departed each other with a simple 'Your Grace', and she left the Hall and he moved to the smaller room in the rear while the tables were cleared and moved, so that he could receive petitioners and attend to matters required of him.

She arrived some time later, wearing both cloak and gloves, and he wondered where she had gone, and how she'd arrived precisely when the Hall was clear once more, and he had only begun to consider what he would say. So when she opened her mouth to speak, likely to propose where they ought to have their conversation, he did not let her.

"Would you care to accompany me for a walk through the Godswood your Grace? I am in need of fresh air."

Surprisingly, she accepted with a simple nod of agreement, and took his arm when he reached her side. She ordered her guard to remain behind, and so they left the Great Hall alone.

They walked mostly in silence, though he had the good sense to ask her how her day had been, to which she replied, "Eventful, after I attended some matters I visited Wintertown, and I must say I was treated very kindly. Then I visited the Wolfswood. It was… quiet."

He half smiled, recalling that this was her first winter, her first experience of what it truly meant.

"Winter is come. Most animals have gone south, or live deep within the woods, where there is some warmth still."

She nodded, but said nothing.

Thankfully the courtyard was mostly bare, though there were still eyes upon them, so he let the silence continue. When they entered the godswood, they were genuinely alone and he remembered the true issue that led them there, but it was her who mentioned it first.

"So King Jon, this great matter, has it anything to do with your garrisoning of the castles on the Wall?"

He was not surprised she knew, not with the one they called 'the Spider' at her service. It was possible she knew too what he feared, considering he had not kept his knowledge of it secret.

"It does," He answered evenly. "So your Grace, I can assume you know what's coming for us all then?"

She looked over to him, her gaze as expected, hard and unyielding.

"I have heard of the ones your people call Wights, and Whitewalkers. As the mother of three dragons I have no right to disbelieve it. While my army is vast and the men true fighters, they are from the East, where it is hot. If I give them to your fight, many will perish from the cold alone, and I cannot endanger their lives without understanding what it is for. This is not their home, I cannot ask them to die for it."

He understood her reasoning, yet he felt his shoulders sag as he realized that she did not truly grasp what was at stake, and that she made no mention of including her dragons in said fight. He looked around for a moment, noticing they were nearing the Heart Tree, before he spoke.

"It is not only the North they will protect, if we do not stop them here, all of Westeros will be lost. The long night is coming, and the Night King with it."

For once, she did not speak and he did not waste the opportunity.

"He is no man though he once was, and he does not only command the dead."

He paused a moment, and surprisingly she did not fill the silence. When they reached the tree, he stopped and released his hold on her.

"Perhaps you'd like to sit for this Queen Daenerys, as it is no easy matter."

Smiling forcefully she answered, "I think I'll stand, thank you King Jon."

He said nothing to this, only began at the beginning.

"Shortly after I joined the Night's Watch I swore my vows in front of a Heart Tree much like this one, only it was beyond the Wall. It was the first time I'd ever crossed it, and that night, the first time I came face to face with a wight."

He told her then, everything that had happened since, in regards to the Others. He left out Ygritte, and the names of all those he'd lost. He avoided details such as Ser Allister and the arrow he'd struck through Mance's heart. He stuck to the facts as best he could, and stopped before he reached the night he'd been betrayed and murdered.

She stood still, intent on his words, and did not interrupt him. It was not until he was finally done that she spoke.

"Will the Wall not keep them back?"

Relieved when he realized by her expression that the question was genuine, and without derision.

"For a time, yes I believe so," he answered.

The implication was clear, it would not hold forever, and he saw in her eyes that she understood. She did not respond to his words only took his arm and said, "Shall we head back?"

He nodded, and with one last look at the Heart Tree, he resumed step once more. He had said his share of words, and the mention of past memories stirred old wounds and he found he could not say more. Luckily, she seemed deep in thought and did not seem to notice. Their walk though silent, with only the sound of the breeze ruffling the trees and the snow stirring at their feet as they walked, was not uncomfortable and without tension.

It was when they reached the gate, and the quiet was replaced by the din of the people in the yard beyond them, that she spoke again.

"I'd like to continue this conversation later, if you will agree King Jon. At the moment, I must admit I am much too chilled to think of much else than the fire in my hearth."

He looked over to her, smiled lightly, and nodded, "Of course."

The easy silence between them resumed, and he walked her to her chambers, then made way to his own, letting her know he would be in his solar when she wished to resume their discussion. He had not doubted that she was cold, only he was sure that was not the true reason behind the interruption. She needed time to think, and truthfully he did as well.

Four days had past and he'd told her everything yet she did not seem perturbed, and had not pledged man nor beast. Their agreement hung unspoken between them, and he found himself wondering how long it would take to set things in motion, and how long after that to finally bind their kingdoms. This seemingly tenuous peace could not last much longer, the days grew shorter already.

He used the time to ponder another way to convince her, some sort of proof, but there was nothing but his word, save for taking her beyond the wall so she could see them with her own two eyes. He shook his head apprehensively knowing that was out of the question before he took a sip from his flagon of ale.

It was at this that there was a brief knock at the door before it opened, his steward Rolan entered, surely to deliver his message that Queen Daenerys was ready to see him.

"Let her pass," Jon said preemptively.

The man paused for a moment, suddenly stiff, before he answered, "Begging your pardon your Grace, but the Queen requests your presence. She wishes you to meet her near the North Gate, by the Broken Tower."

He nearly chuckled when he heard she wanted to meet him out in the cold once more, but when he rose from his seat and finally looked out the window, he saw that the sun had already descended and it was nearing time for the evening meal. He realized then that he'd been lost in thought much longer than he supposed. He took one last gulp of his ale and instructed Rolan to make sure supper was served regardless of his presence, though he was fairly certain most if not all would wait until they arrived before touching any of it. He hoped this meeting would not take long for their sakes.

He took the long path that lead from South to North, the night dark as few stars shone in the night, and the moon was no more than a sliver. With the hall likely already near full, it was quiet, and only the few torches that lit his way and the men on watch guarding the castle stirred the eerie silence that surrounded him.

The tower came into view before she did though not for long. Her silver golden hair cascaded down her back, shining like a beacon in the dark night as she leaned forward, resting her arms against the ledge, her gaze turned to the sky though there was little to see.

Considering he was none too pleased in this delay, he was much more firm than his usual self.

"What is it you wish to speak of your Grace?"

She finally looked away and turned to him, seeming to have already noticed his presence for she hardly reacted to his voice when he spoke.

"Do not worry King Jon, this will not take long."

She did not move from her spot, so he stepped closer. He did not speak, only waited for her to resume.

"I have considered your words, and your cause, and I am prepared to accept your terms, I only ask that you hear mine."

He nodded and did not speak, so she could continue.

"My dragons," She said then, seeming to know what he was thinking of.

"I brought them into this world. They are my children. They are the only—" She hesitated for the slightest of moments before continuing, "Family I have left."

She turned away from him, gazing upwards once more, at the vast darkness ahead of her. His eyes followed hers for a moment, though again there was little to see but dark clouds that blocked out the stars and the dim glow from the ones that managed to remain in view.

After a few moments she spoke, "Before I consent to risking them in this war, there are a few matters we will need to deal with, some of which will take longer than a day to address. Tonight, I need only know what he thinks of you."

At this, there was a low rumble above him, turning he saw small stones and bits of the broken tower tumbling to the ground below them. Though her words and the crash of his landing signalled his appearance, when Jon finally laid his eyes on the beast towering over him, he could not help the deep intake of air. He held it in his throat for fear the sound of it might bring its attention to him. For the moment, it gazed at Queen Daenerys almost lovingly, and Jon noticed the red streaks laced throughout its scales, and the large blacks wings flapping gently to help keep it balanced on the crumbling roof of the Broken tower.

"This is Drogon," She said then, and Jon turned his gaze to her once more. There was a triumphant smile on her face. "My eldest."

When she looked up at him, she spoke again though the only word Jon understood was his own name and he was certain she was not addressing him. He hesitated before glancing up once more, knowing he'd find its gaze upon him. He was not disappointed, though he was surprised that when he looked into its eyes, he was not exactly afraid, and its expression was not entirely menacing, though he was sure somehow that it did not seem particularly fond of him either.

Drogon leaned in closer for a moment, gazing at him with hard eyes and Jon, unable to avoid it, in shock finally let out the breath he'd been holding. At that, the dragon snorted and turned away from him, suddenly disinterested. He looked over to Queen Daenerys once more, grumbled at her before he pushed off the tower, and rose back into the sky, disappearing into the black clouds above them.

Feeling movement return to his limbs, he stepped backwards, and drew another breath, this time releasing it steadily, to calm his fast beating heart. He looked up once more to make sure it was not coming back.

"That went well," She said then, looking over to him once more, suddenly serious.

Unsure how she'd come to such a conclusion, he could not help himself, "Well? It would be quite a stretch to say he liked me."

"Yes, King Jon," She agreed, "But he did not dislike you. And that is something indeed."

She pushed off the ledge and turned to him fully.

"Announce our betrothal and I will pledge my men to your wall and war, though once we are married, it will be our cause to command."

This did not surprise him, he'd quickly deduced that though she might give him use of her army, she would not hand over complete control of it. He nodded, agreeing to this stipulation, but he had to be sure of one thing first.

"And your dragons?" He asked then. "Will you vow at least, to commit them to our cause, should the time come?"

"I will," She answered simply.

He did not reply, unsure how to proceed in her easy acceptance. He wondered briefly what else she needed to know, until she broke the silence at least.

"So are we agreed then?"

He was not sure how many more conditions she had, nor that he could fulfill any of them, but he was not bothered when she left it where she had. He'd encountered many great beasts in his short life, from direwolves to mammoths and giants, and yet, nothing compared to the red and black dragon, the promise of danger clear in the span of its wings and size of its mouth, not to mention the spark of intelligence in its eyes. Jon knew now more than ever, he would need all three if they were to win.

"We are," He finally responded.

With a satisfied smile she took his arm, "Shall we head to the Great Hall?"

As he'd expected, it was near full when they entered, the room falling to a sudden hush as they took their seats on the dais.

Ghost was at his usual spot next to him and seemed unperturbed by their lateness as he was chewing heartedly on a large bone stripped already of its meat. Jon might have confused him with a dog if not for the fact that he was as large as a bear, and his mouth, and fangs, were nearly twice the size of those of a hound. Seeing him, Jon felt better knowing that though Ghost was no great dragon, he was a formidable beast in his own right.

"Will you or should I?" She whispered into his ear, interrupting his thoughts.

At her words, he was suddenly hit with the realization that he'd not exactly been referring to Ghost after all.

"I will," He answered firmly, reaching for his flagon before he stood.

The hall settled nearly at once, though he took a moment to choose his words.

"My father always said that in the winter we must protect ourselves. Look after one another." He began.

There were many nods of agreement mostly from Northerners who'd likely heard his father say this for himself, or because they knew it to be true. The rest did not move, but their attention remained rapt on him.

He continued, "Now it is truly winter, and we know what is coming. We are in a dangerous time, and we cannot fight a war amongst ourselves."

There were hushed mumbles of assent throughout the tables, and he briefly wondered how long it would last before he spoke again.

"Queen Daenerys and I—" He paused, caught by the sudden look of understanding dawning on the faces before him.

"Have agreed to an alliance," He finally finished. When he realized he'd not been entirely clear he added lamely, "We will wed."

The mumbles disappeared, and a harsh silence took over.

At this she stood, raising her cup of wine in the air. Suddenly, he felt her free hand grasp his right, the coolness of her palm in complete polarity to the heat of his own. He fidgeted for a moment, knowing she would soon notice the rough terrain of his burned skin, feeling embarrassed by it though he was not sure why.

"We will unite our kingdoms. Westeros has bled enough. Lord Eddard was right, it is time we look after one another, and fight our enemy… together."

She drank from her glass, and he followed suit, their fingers linking as their movements threatened their grasp. He tried to maintain calm as he watched the faces around him. Another moment passed before the silence finally broke.

"Here here!" Shouted the first voice, familiar in its low rumble.

A string of knocks filled the air, flagons of ale being tapped against the table before being lifted to mouths for hearty gulps.

"To King Jon and Queen Daenerys!" Came another, followed by the sound of more taps, and glasses being refilled.

He turned to her, grinning in relief, forgetting for a moment all the other problems that weighed on his shoulders. She returned the gesture looking relieved as well, as if she too shared his fear that they would not approve the union.

It was not until they took their seat once more that she finally let go of his hand, grazing his palm as if she meant to inquire what had happened though she made no obvious reaction. She kept her eyes on him as he prepared to explain when the first serving girl arrived with a plate of honeyed ham.

"What happened?" She asked when they'd finally been served and the people in the hall distracted by their own meal, and the celebrations of the king and queen's engagement.

He looked at his palm a moment before he finally answered.

"It happened that first night in Castle Black, after I'd sworn my vows. I had no weapon and he would not die. When Lord Mormont appeared, I took his lamp, and flung it at the wight, knowing the fire would destroy it."

"With no thought to what would happen to your hand I presume," She scolded, though her tone was playful.

"Better my hand than my life," He answered amicably, despite their present topic of conversation.

"I'm glad it was neither," She said seriously, before looking away, returning her attention to the plate in front of her.

❄️

In the morning, as he readied himself to break his fast in the Great Hall, Rolan came with a scroll in hand. The sigil imprinted in the wax was his own, that of House Stark in any case, and he knew there was but one person it could be.

He felt his respite at the realization vanish when his steward announced that the bird had come from the Eyrie. Rolan quickly excused himself, likely by the expression on his face, but his squire did not seem to have noticed as he continued lacing his boots. Jon opened the scroll shortly after, sighing in relief as he read the soft loopy writing of his sister Sansa, his fears assuaged as he read her words.

Dear Brother,

I am sure it must come as a shock to hear I am in the Eyrie and not Riverrun, but fear not, for all is well. My apologies, had it not been necessary, I would have informed you sooner.

Littlefinger is dead. As is Lady Brienne, who slew him. I felt it my duty, along with Ser Davos and some of my Uncle's men, to travel to the Vale to secure my cousin's fealty before news of his death traveled.

Lord Royce, still loyal to House Stark, now holds the Eyrie, as Protector of the Vale until Robin Arryn comes of age.

By the time you should receive this, Ser Davos and I will be on our return to the North. We shall speak soon, I promise.

Your sister, Lady Sansa of House Stark

He knew there was much she'd left out, but felt confident she'd tell him everything when they returned. He felt a pang of grief for Lady Brienne, knowing though it had not been said, that she had died to save Sansa's life. In that, there was also remorse, though he knew of the vow she'd sworn to Lady Catelyn, now fulfilled, it was his job to protect Sansa, not hers. He could not help but feel as though he'd failed them both in not dealing with Littlefinger himself.

With a sigh, he let the scroll roll shut, knowing there was nothing he could do about it now but make sure she had not died in vain. His squire had finished with his boots and stood waiting, as he'd taken to not wearing his cloak for the morning meal considering the kitchen continued to make sure the hearths burned hot for the southern Queen.

In the Great Hall he told Queen Daenerys of his sister's impending arrival, and it seemed the news was well received.

"I am glad to hear it, your Grace," She said, smiling.

"I look forward to meeting her. I have heard much about her, she must be a strong woman, to have survived both the Mad Queen and her son, not to mention the Bol—"

"She is indeed," He interrupted, not wanting to think of the Bolton's and all they'd done to his family, nor of what Sansa had done because of it.

"Though it is still hard at times to remember she is no longer a little girl," He added cordially, forcing the thoughts away.

She smiled in return, though there was something forlorn in her eyes as she spoke, "For most brothers that is the case."

She sighed then, letting go of whatever it was that had sullen her mood. Suddenly, she smirked devilishly at him.

"Speaking of brothers, I thought you'd like to meet Drogon's brother Rhaegal, named after my own."

a/n: I know this was heavily lacking on fluff and stuff, but they'll get there... eventually. I promise.

I wanna thank everyone for your input, whether that be with reviews or follows. It really makes my day and I appreciate it, truly.