Due to some re-editing, it's been a suuuper long time since we've heard from Daenerys and Jon, I know, but it was not intentional.
Warning though: Things are about to get rough. But don't worry, in the end, this IS a Jonerys fic, trust me, this will have a happy ending, even if that's apparently bad storytelling (according to dd). But after the end they created, is there anyone who doesn't want that, now more than ever?
Also, because of season 8, I wax poetic for Dany rather hard in this chapter. Be forewarned.
Oh, when I was in love with you, then I was clean and brave,
And miles around the wonder grew, how well did I behave.
And now the fancy passes by, and nothing will remain,
And miles around they'll say that I am quite myself again.
Oh, When I Was In Love by A.E. Housman
Daenerys
æ
No one could say Daenerys had not lived her life with passion, with fire and blood but also with love, only of a different kind. She'd done what she'd done for the ones like her, the vulnerable and powerless, like she'd once been. Fire is power, and Daenerys had used it, protecting those who could not protect themselves. She'd made mistakes of course, in her folly and ire and youth, mistakes she was determined not to repeat.
It'd been so long since she'd experienced that other kind of love, the kind that filled her heart with tenderness and belonging, of not being alone in this world. That is why Jon pulling away had hurt so much. She was beginning to feel all that for him, and so was he, yet he'd called it a distraction. With the possibility of the end upon them, was she doomed to never feel the sting of love again?
Almost nothing had changed between them since their wedding night, only now with the added pressure of his role as the Stark of Winterfell, and her resolution to focus on the war that was coming, the divide between them felt sharper still. She might as well be on the other side of the world for how close she felt to Jon, even when they sat side by side.
Daenerys wanted to burn and fume with the anger and pain she felt in her heart, but didn't, knowing all eyes were on her. Would they see it for what it was, or would they call her rage Targaryen insanity? She was a foreigner in a land she didn't completely understand, and who was still adjusting to her presence here. So she buried it, all that fury of emotion, focusing again on what had always made her feel strong, the people she promised herself to protect, as best as she could.
But she didn't want this. Little by little, she felt herself turn to ice and stone, every bit the opposite of the Dragon Queen she was supposed to be. For as long as she could remember, she'd never been—nor wanted to be, this woman.
The worst part was Daenerys didn't know how to escape her.
"Dany?" His voice broke through the din of her thoughts.
No, she amended, that was the worst part. Hearing him use her nickname only helped to confuse her more. A term of endearment, but she never knew if he still mean it in that way.
She looked over at him, expressionless, "Yes Jon?"
They were in the Great Hall for the evening meal, where they hardly spoke to one another, Jon would focus his attentions to Ser Davos, or Gendry now Baratheon, and she'd do the same, only instead it was Missandei and tonight,Grey Worm, as he'd come with reports of his men.
Jon did that sort of half frown he always made when confronted with something unpleasant before he answered, "A man of the Night's Watch has arrived with a report of the Wall."
Daenerys suddenly understood the expression. It was immediately clear to her that he wanted to speak with the man alone, and was now in the process of breaking it to her gently. She wouldn't let him though.
"It's been a long day, perhaps if you would not mind, you could see to him without me?"
His lips turned down slightly, as if he knew her true reasons for saying it, but none the less nodded in agreement.
The air grew stiff then, uncomfortable as they both seemed to realize neither had fooled the other. Daenerys spoke then, wanting to be done with it.
"Well good night then."
She turned away before he could make that face at her, but heard it none the less in his voice.
"Good night Dany," He replied.
As her eyes fell on the hall around them, and the people still eating and drinking, Jon stood to make his leave. The room quickly grew quiet, and she could not help but wonder if they could sense the tension between her and Jon. When she finally felt him leave the room, she took a long sip of her wine, her gaze still on the people who now had resumed their earlier positions.
It wasn't long before she decided to excuse herself, suddenly feeling very alone even despite Missandei and Grey Worm being at her side.
She turned to her oldest friend, who smiled sympathetically at her. The sensation of loneliness ebbed a little in the warmth of Missandei's expression, and she managed to return the gesture not disingenuously.
"I think I'll retire now," Daenerys said then. "It's been a long day."
"Of course, your Grace, " Her friend nodded back, the grin pulling back a bit as concern took its place.
Missandei made to stand, and though Daenerys felt heartened by it, she needed to be alone.
She smiled softly and placed her hand over her friend's, who stilled and looked up at her.
"Stay," Daenerys said then, smiling softly, momentarily glancing over at Grey Worm.
"I'll be alright."
Missandei's expression softened lightly in return, "If you need anything your Grace, you know where to find me."
Daenerys squeezed gently before letting go, feeling grateful she wasn't entirely alone.
"Thank you Missandei."
When she stood all eyes finally turned to her, they fell quiet as she bowed lightly to them and left the room.
As Daenerys stepped outside and felt the winter chill, for once it was welcome. She felt refreshed in its force of presence, her mind clearing a little as she made her way back to her chambers. She let herself get lost in that silence for a while, mind not focusing on anything but the cold.
She'd just she reached the Keep when she heard it, the sound of a dragon's call disrupting the northern silence. She was certain it was Drogon, and knowing what it meant Daenerys turned instead to the ramparts and made her way up. By the time she reached the Broken Tower, Drogon was descending, the steady beat of his wings making her hair blow lightly as he landed on the other side of the castle.
Daenerys smiled when he looked over at her, Drogon trilled lightly in a coo as he moved his head closer. She reached out and placed a hand over his snout, feeling solaced by the warmth of his presence. It was clear he'd felt her emotions, and was offering what comfort he could.
After a moment he turned away from her, so his shoulder was now before her, as if offering her a ride. Daenerys' grin widened, debating the notion for only a brief instance, before she maneuvered herself over the ledge and climbed onto his back, well aware of the eyes upon them, as the courtyard was never entirely empty anymore.
Drogon took off as soon as she settled, flying over the godswood as he made his way up into the sky. The night was clear, not a cloud in sight, the rumbling of wings crisp in the still air, and the flecks of red in his undercoat seeming to spark like fire under the brightness of the moon. They must have been quite a sight to behold as all gazes were still fixed on them, and feeling suddenly playful, Daenerys decided to give them something of a show.
They twirled and darted to and fro, around the castle, spiralling upwards and then gliding back down. Daenerys felt her hair whip around the sky and knew it would be a frightful mess by the time she was done, but didn't care, feeling light and free for the first in a long time.
After a little while they finally pulled away, both simultaneously needing to feel the wide open night and the cool sensation of winter wind rushing past them. It was here that Rhaegal finally appeared, pulling up on her left, screeching lightly when she looked over at him.
She smiled, feeling better now that she had her children with her, but felt a pang for Viserion. She hadn't seen him in months, and now flying without him seemed wrong somehow. He should be here with her, with them, his brothers, not alone in the south.
Sooner or later, she'd have to bring him North.
It was late by the time she finally returned to the castle, Drogon, with Rhaegal hovering overhead, dropped her off right where he'd found her. And though the guards smiled at her dragons with open wonderment, she felt better.
Their chambers were warm when she finally got back, the fire burning brighty in the hearth, but the room was quiet and empty, Jon nowhere to be found. She was a little surprised by his absence, considering his meeting with the Night's Watch had to have ended already, and news of her flight had likely reached him by now. She had no reason to expect a negative reaction, but the longer he took, the more she began to think it did not matter to him, one way or the other.
Her earlier feelings came back a little, but she shook them off, remembering that as long as she had her children, she was not truly alone. It was with thoughts of the open sky and the span of Drogon's wings carrying her, that she finally fell asleep.
When she woke the next morning, Jon was surprisingly still in bed beside her; albeit sitting with his back to her, but she would call it as she wanted.
"Good morning," Daenerys said then, a sliver of warmth in her voice, left over from the night before, or by his proximity, she wasn't entirely sure.
He looked back at her finally, his eyes crinkling enough that she knew he meant it as a smile.
"Good morning Dany," he replied.
He gazed down at her for a moment longer, his expression still soft as he reached out to smooth her hair. She stilled, but barely felt the whisper of his touch, and soon realized he'd only plucked a feather out of her hair. It twirled it in his grasp for a moment but his focus never shifted from her. After his hand dropped and he let go, his gaze turned serious as Jon finally turned away and stood.
He began dressing soon after, his back to her as he pulled on his tunic. Daenerys felt the chill of his departure take with him that last bit of warmth she had, but it was as he spoke that she knew she'd need to recharge sooner rather than later.
"I heard you and Drogon put on a show last night?" Jon said after a moment, reaching for his doublet, still not looking at her.
She sat up, straightening herself but didn't get out of bed, before she replied, "Hardly. I went for a ride. The night was clear and the moon bright. Why, is that a problem?"
Her tone was more flippant than she'd intended, but she held quiet and waited for him to answer. Jon said nothing at first, only pulled the leather garment over his head. After, he finally turned, and again managed to shock her, as there was steeliness in his own gaze.
"Of course not, I only meant—"
He stopped, trying to find the right words, but ultimately gave up, as he said nothing and turned back around. He looked down and began buckling his doublet up, back to her once more.
Another long moment passed before he spoke again, though he did not turn back to her this time, "Will you go for a ride today?"
"Seems likely," She answered briskly.
Jon said nothing to that, and neither did she. Instead, she finally got out of bed and walked over to the table and served herself a cup of sweet wine and sipped slowly, as he finished dressing. She kept her gaze averted, looking at the fire instead, wondering how they had come to this.
æ
Unsurprisingly, she took to flying off on Drogon more, first to know the land, and then to check on her men, sometimes not returning to Winterfell till after nightfall. It was after one such night, late enough that the castle was as quiet as she'd ever heard it, and Jon was deep in the throes of sleep that he did not hear her enter. The morning when she woke, Jon was waiting for her. Fully dressed, cloak and all, he sat by the fire, a flagon of ale in his hand as he stared into the fire, though clearly lost in thought.
She sat up then, deliberatly making sound so he knew she was awake. It worked as his head snapped over to her, and he stood, setting his cup on the small table beside his chair, before stepping closer so he was at the foot of their bed.
"We need to talk," Jon said then, voice grave as he skipped pleasantries.
She straightened her spine, before nodding lightly. "Then speak," She answered, tone just as sharp.
"There's no easy way to say this, so i'll just say it."
He paused for a moment, that deep troubled crease in his brow she was so accustomed to, marring his handsome features.
"So say it," She prompted him, feeling a little curious as to what he planned on saying.
Jon took a deep breath, and finally found his voice, "I think it would be best if you didn't travel on your own anymore, at least by night."
Daenerys immediately understood his meaning, considering it had not been very cryptic.
"I suppose I should stay within eyesight as well?" She answered.
Jon seemed to know she was mocking him, but didn't react to it, instead he continued.
"This land is vast and hard. The days are growing shorter and the winter winds stronger. You don't know the North well enough, Daenerys. It's easy to get lost, or hurt. Should something happen, should you fall—"
She scoffed lightly, not truly worried, "I am a dragon rider. I'd no sooner fall off Drogon than you would your horse."
He pushed on, as if she hadn't interrupted him.
"—Or get caught in a snowstorm, it might be days before we could get to you. I'm not telling you not to ride Drogon, only not to do it at night and not to go far."
Even though Daenerys understood where he was coming from, she was not entirely convinced, thinking he did not know her.
"You may as well be telling me to stay within a cage."
"Hardly," Jon sighed, throwing back at her the use of that word.
He was visibly angered, but took a deep breath before he spoke.
"I only want you to be careful. I don't think that's much to ask."
æ
She wasn't sure what made her do it. Perhaps it was his tone, or that his voice rang in her head over and over for the rest of the day, festering like a sore wound, or that she was tired of the tension and distance between them. Whatever it was, she'd been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't even realized where Drogon was taking her, not until she saw the familiar peaks and towers of Torren's Square. She wondered for a moment, how she hadn't noticed Winterfell pass beneath her feet.
As Drogon continued flying, what she could now tell was southeast, she did not stop him, instead she let him lead her on, the day growing darker the further he flew. Though she felt a pang of guilt for having left as she had, and deliberatly going against Jon's word, it was too late to go back now. Besides, she needed a break, and so did he, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
It was night by the time they reached the Island of Pyke. Drogon took off shortly after he landed, likely heading to the spot he'd called home the last time they'd been here.
"Your grace, I wasn't expecting you so soon." Yara said to her with a bow, having come out to receive her.
There was a mischievous glint in her eye as she continued, "Trouble in paradise?"
Daenerys looked at her humourlessly, not liking that Yara had read her so quickly.
"Only checking on you and Pyke, simply faster this way," She answered as evenly as she could.
"Of course, your grace," Yara answered with a smirk.
"Come," she said then nonchalantly, motioning Daenerys forward, and into the Keep. "Let us go inside, where it's warm."
They spoke of inconsequential things as they made their way to Yara's solar, mostly of her journey, and how things were, here on the Iron Islands.
The room was a bit dark and gloomy, but at least it was warm. Seeing the table with quill and paper in the back of the room, Daenerys felt a pang of her earlier guilt in leaving the North so hastily. She decided to send Jon a raven, to let him know where she was, not truly wanting to worry him.
"Lady Yara," Daenerys said then, tone serious, "I'd like to inform my husband i've arrived, so he does not worry. Would you allow me use of your desk, as well as paper and quill so that I may write to him?"
The Greyjoy's brow went up, her lips turning up slightly as she answered, "Go right ahead your grace."
As Daenerys moved to the table, Yara walked over to the decanter of wine set along the opposite wall.
Once she sat, and had a blank roll of paper in front of her and quill in hand, she hesitated a moment, unsure how to address him. In that moment, the sound of something being placed on the tabletop startled her. Looking up, Daenerys saw that Yara had placed a cup on the table, before her.
"I thought you could use a drink," She smirked.
Daenerys returned the grin perfunctorily before answering, "Thank you."
"I suppose congratulations is in order. For your nuptials to the King in the North."
Yara raised her cup, waiting for her to do the same, and forcing Daenerys to reach for her own and to tap their glasses in a celebratory clink.
"Thank you," Daenerys answered simply, though she hardly felt like celebrating.
She did not drink though, instead she put the cup back down and reached for the quill once again. Yara took a long sip but said nothing else, only made her way over to her chair by the fire and sat.
Once again, Daenerys dropped her head back down, focusing on the letter, and how to begin it. She settled simply on Jon, leaving out his title in an effort to make it more personal. She didn't know how to address her guilt, so she didn't, deciding it would be better in person. She did apologize for not informing him ahead of time, knowing that at least needed to be said. She also told him she would be checking on the iron fleet, and the shipments of dragonglass they were taking North to the Wall, and that she'd return before nightfall on the second day. She signed it simply Dany, and sealed it shut.
She reached out finally for her cup and took a sip, looking up at Yara, only now noticing she'd now moved over to the table and sitting across from her. Between them, a girl was laying out some food, likely for her. Feeling her stomach rumble, she began serving herself a plate, just as the girl left and they were finally alone.
"So, your grace, how are things in the North?" Yara said then, voice casual as she interrupted the silence.
Daenerys stilled and looked over at her, certain the lady of the Iron Islands was asking about Jon, though she wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a response.
"Cold, of course. But busy, everyone is preparing for Winter, and the Long Night."
Yara accepted this answer and didn't press further, instead she changed the subject, somewhat.
"And my brother, your grace? How has the North been taking his presence?"
Daenerys exhaled lightly, feeling relieved since it was something she could easily speak of, she drank again from her cup, taking a deeper sip before she replied, "As well as can be expected I'm afraid, but improving. Slowly."
"I'm sure no one punishes Theon more than himself," A sad sort of expression took over Yara's features for a moment, as she thought about her brother.
"All is not unwell though, Lady Sansa has forgiven him, and Jon, has— accepted his presence there."
They spoke about him Theon for a little while longer, of his arrival and the Northern lords reactions, of Lady Sansa's wedding and how they'd taken that, Yara refilling her cup as needed.
It was a little while later, as they sat in a companionable silence, now by the hearth, Daenerys sipping at her wine, savouring the heat of the fire and the warmth in her belly, when Yara finally broke the quiet.
"Shame I didn't get to attend your own wedding, your grace. I heard it was quite a night."
"It was," Daenerys answered truthfully, remembering it, and how things had been between them. She felt herself smile, though it was fleeting, and bittersweet at best, because it only served to remind her how much things had changed since then.
"So, your grace, tell me, how is the King in the North?" Yara asked then, waggling her brows suggestively, not having picked up on Daenerys' internal struggle.
It was obvious what Yara was truly asking, and it must have been because of the wine in her blood, but Daenerys did not deflect, instead she answered truthfully, "If I only knew."
Daenerys took another deep sip, knowing she'd come to regret this conversation in the morning, but unable to prevent it from happening. In fact, it felt cathartic, to finally get it off her chest.
This actually managed to shock Yara, as she quickly sat up.
"I'm sorry your grace, but are you telling me you've never—"
Not wanting to hear whatever term Yara Greyjoy planned on using, Daenerys interrupted her, "I'm afraid not."
Yara exhaled deeply, clearly shocked by this information. She sat back once again, refilling her own cup and took a swig.
"I hope you don't mind me asking your grace, but is he not into women? Or does it not work?"
There was suprisingly no judgement in Yara's expression, and Daenerys felt suddenly, that maybe she could speak frankly to this woman.
Daenerys took a sip from her own cup before answering truthfully, "I wish it were that simple."
"So what is it then?"
And so, Daenerys told her of Jon's qualms. About his duty, and the Night King, and where his focus needed to be.
"That's a Stark for you," Yara mumbled reprehensibly. "Forever worrying about their honour and duty. "
Don't worry your grace, he is a man after all. They're all the same in the end. He'll come around."
Somehow, this made her feel a little better.
Daenerys remained on the Iron Islands for another day, checking on the fleet as she said she would, though it hardly needed her attention. She left early the day after, and though she stopped for a quick rest near Torren's square, she arrived back in Winterfell before dark.
It was Missandei alone who received her, "It is good to have you back, your grace."
Daenerys felt the bundle of nerves swell as she greeted her friend.
"I wish I could say it is good to be back. But I am glad to see you. And my husband?"
Missandei stiffened for a moment, before she answered, "King Jon waits for you in your chambers, your grace."
It felt strange being given this news from her friend, considering there was a certain air of sympathy in her tone, as if she knew something Daenerys did not.
"Let's not keep him waiting then," She answered. As she moved, Missandei fell into step beside her.
"Did anything happen while I was gone?" Daenerys asked after a moment, trying to sound nonchalant, even though Missandei clearly picked up her true meaning.
"When night fell and you did not return, your grace, King Jon sent scouts to look for you. Thankfully you'd been spotted, flying south past Winterfell. King Jon found out just before supper, and your raven arrived in the morning."
By Missandei's serious tone, Daenerys was almost afraid to ask the thing she most wanted to know.
"How did he take it?" She glanced over at Missandei to catch her expression.
Her friend didn't immediately answer, only opened the door to the keep so Daenerys could enter first.
Once they were inside, and making their way down the hall to her chambers, did she finally answer.
"Not well your grace. Especially after he found out where you'd gone."
Daenerys shouldn't have been startled by this admission, but now that she though of it, she realized why. Tensions with Pyke and house Greyjoy had not been entirely repaired after all, not to mention it wasn't exactly very close to Winterfell.
It was in this moment of course, that they finally arrived to her chambers.
"Thank you Missandei. And I'm sorry I left you here—"
Her friend interrupted her, reaching out a hand and placing it over her own.
"Do not worry your grace, I understand. I'm sure the King will as well."
Daenerys nodded, feeling grateful for her friend's understanding, and lighty squeezed Missandei's hand before letting go, and finally entered the room.
Jon was sitting by the fire waiting for her, and she could not help but remember the last time they'd been here.
"Welcome back, your grace," He said, tone serious, once she'd closed the door behind her, and they were alone.
"Did you have a good trip?" Jon asked cooly.
She felt the cold of the North seep back into her bones with his question, and if she'd been anyone else, she might have not known how to answer such a question, but as she was, the words came out easily enough.
"I did. Lady Yara is a gracious host, loves to entertain."
She made her way further into the room, crossing over to her own side, and started by removing her gloves, as she waited for Jon to make his point.
"Do you want to know what I was doing?" He asked after a moment, voice forceful but as if he was trying to hold back.
He didn't actually wait for her to answer, however.
"I've been assembling our arriving forces and supplies along the wall, while you were off galivanting in Pyke with Lady Yara."
She removed her cloak before turning to him.
"You sound jealous," She said then, taking a step towards him.
He did the same, but took two, and now they were almost face to face. and she realized the look on his face was irritation, annoyance.
As if to prove this, he spoke then, "This isn't about jealousy. This is about responsibility. Your responsibility, as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I asked two things of you, for your own good, and not even a day passed before—"
"I made sure not to travel at night—" She said then, not letting him finish.
He scoffed, "Yes, after you flew off halfaway across the North, without telling anyone. What if something had happened—"
Feeling the need to defend herself, she interrupted him again, "I can take care of myself."
This only made managed to fuel his ire, as he immediately answered, his voice now elevated, "I appreciate that, but I meant in the North. What if the Night King should arrive and you're off gods know where? What then?"
Daenerys said nothing to this, both in that she had no answer, and that Jon was not completely wrong. Yet the knowledge that his concern was not entirely for her, managed to spark her own anger.
He took another step before he spoke again, "You need to save your strength and theirs, for the real fight."
She followed his lead, and closed the last bit of space between them, and though they had not been this close to one another in a long time, the heat of it was all wrong.
With as much strength he'd mustered, she answered in kind, "My dragons are made stronger in battle, in flight, in being what they are. Not in resting and waiting for the enemy to come to them."
This close, she could see the twitch of his lips, the underlying anger he was trying to hold back.
"Be that as it may, you have obligations. Here. And it would be much easier for everyone, if you were here to fulfill them. And if not, all I ask is that you keep me informed."
He took a deep breath after he spoke, and simply waited, seemingly knowing she would not leave it at that. And she did not.
Feeling out of place in the cold North, Daenerys had been thinking of the South for some time now. Thinking of Tyrion and the capital and Viserion, and where she belonged. Maybe now was the time to go back.
"Then perhaps I ought to inform you that I plan on flying to King's landing. And soon."
He did not remain silent at this.
"To do what exactly? Your presence is needed here. To wait for the Night King, unless you'd rather risk our men and fight him on the other side of the Wall. If that's what you want, I can have the men ready in two days. Is that what you want?"
Daenerys felt fury burn her blood, but she held it in.
"Viserion remains in the capital," She said then, voice firm but steady. "I intend to bring him here. Is that alright with you, or do you think we won't need his presence in the coming fight?"
When Jon did not immediately answer, she felt a cold smile cross her features. "Now you have nothing to say, of course. Do you object or not? It's a simple answer."
His face twisted, and that was answer enough. "What does it matter? It's not as if you'd listen, determined as you are to twist my words. Go then. Do what you will. Don't let me stop you."
He turned away then, not waiting for her to answer, and moved to leave the room.
"I will!" She answered, determined to have the last word. She sounded petulant even to her own ears, but he left without looking back.
The very next morning, when she woke and Jon was nowhere to be seen, and had clearly not returned at all, the dam inside broke. Something hot and angry coursed through her blood, and she finally understood what waking the dragon truly meant.
In an action she'd eventually come to regret, Daenerys left just like that, with nothing but the cloak upon her back. Drogon and Rhaegal were already waiting when she reached the Broken Tower, but before they took to the sky, Rhaegal, in a clear act of defiance, laid down, his wings stilling as if declaring they would fly no more.
Drogon growled at him, but he did not move.
She was reminded suddenly of Jon, of their argument, and she could not help but feel as if Rhaegal's refusal to go meant he was taking Jon's side. Overwhelmed with anger and hurt and rejection, she made another choice she'd soon lament as well.
"FINE. Then stay."
And like that, she left Rhaegal, the North, and Jon, all behind.
a/n: It's a bit ironic I ended up here, at a Daenerys chapter just as the season ended (and SPOILERS: destroyed her character), so in both ways I've been wanting and not wanting to write this, feeling entirely disillusioned with the series as I do right now.
The worst part is that I'm just delving into the toughest part of their relationship, which considering what happened in canon, makes it a lot harder. Especially since my dealing of it is tough too (I honestly never thought Jon would take the news of his birth well, nor Dany dealing with his 'rejection' well either) but it's also kinda integral to the whole story. So as much as it hurts to write this, I still have to.
Anyway, thanks again for reading. And then there were 6!