Ours Is the Song

by lilgulie5

After Daenerys becomes Queen of Westeros she turned her attention to the North, set on aiding Jon Snow, former Lord Commander in the war against the Others. Fighting side-by-side for nearly a year they have been lulled into a false semblance of security, believing the war is finally coming to an end. They fail to realize that the War for the Dawn has only just begun. Chap. 5 is up!

2. Jon I

A/N: Welcome to chapter 2! Thank you for all of the feedback. This chapter is from Jon's POV. Please review if you feel so inclined. Thanks! -Katie

Jon

Pale light filtered into the room through the yellow diamond-shaped windowpanes on the far side of Daenerys's bedchamber. The dim beams were scant enough to leave the room still draped mostly in darkness, but it was the sign of first light and Jon knew he should be gone soon. The notion to remain tucked under the furs next to the slumbering woman beside him was appealing, but one he could not entertain, at least not yet. Shifting carefully in the bed he gazed down at her and his heart ached to touch her. Best not, he chiding himself. Dany's silver hair was tousled and splayed out across the pillow, her face the perfect mask of serenity. Jon had learned shortly after their tryst began that anything could wake her. Movement, a sound, a dream. She had explained it away as the after effects of being constantly fearful as a child that one of the Usurper's dogs would find and kill her. For all the security Jon thought he could give her, it was something she was mostly unable to shake. Despite his best efforts to steal away from her bed in the cover of darkness each night they shared she almost always inevitably awoke, lazily pleaded with him to stay, and when that proved unsuccessful, fell back to sleep.

To Jon, Dany looked ethereal in the pre-dawn, her skin nearly glowing against the dark furs tucked up under her chin. She looked delicate and fragile but he knew that was just a trick of the light. Beneath the unassuming exterior was a warrior as fierce as any he'd ever known. That was one trait he'd always admired about her. Men often underestimated her and she let them, knowing full-well they would regret their misjudgment.

Daring to reach out a hand to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind Dany's ear, Jon noticed just how frigid the room was. He guessed that Irri and Jhiqui normally built up the fire, but there was no sign that either woman had been about in the chamber yet. With a sigh he slid to the edge of the bed and dressed, padding to the fireplace and kindling a new fire. Ghost lifted his head in silent recognition from his usual spot next to the fireplace. It had surprised Jon how quickly the direwolf grew to trust and seek out Dany's company. As the flames grew and licked over the small pieces of wood he fed to it, Jon recalled the events of the previous night.

It was difficult for him to fathom the idea of being a father, although not for lack of fervor. He had simply never let himself imagine such a thing, not since joining the Watch, not even with Ygritte, especially not with Daenerys. It did not take long after her arrival to the Wall for them to become close. Their age, their cause, their blood were all binders that created common ground. Although he didn't realize it in the moment, Dany came at a time when he needed her the most. After Melisandre returned to him the breath of life Jon felt different. In many ways he was different. He spent many sleepless nights wandering aimlessly upon the wall-walk. On nights when he felt the loneliest he walked atop the Wall itself. It was on one such night that he came upon Dany. She wasn't alone then. She rarely ever is. In the distance, the Lord Commander of her Queensguard Barristan Selmy stood like a silent shadow. For the first time since they'd met she looked vulnerable, her fair skin and silvery hair blending into the solid mass of snow and ice.

"I remember my first time looking out North of the Wall," he had said to her.

"What makes you think this is my first time, Lord Snow?" she'd asked.

"I can see it on your face."

Dany opened her mouth as if to speak, whether in affirmation or protest he couldn't tell, but closed it and fixed her gaze on the horizon once more. She'd looked younger in that moment. Away from her entourage save for Barristan, Jon had seen the young woman that still lay beneath the queenly persona. She was beautiful in all the ways Ygritte had not been and yet it was false to call her beauty conventional. How she could be both fierce and delicate at the same time he'd never know. Her very existence seemed like a mystery to him and when she finally turned back to him, violet eyes gleaming, he'd felt something inside of him awaken once more.

"Does it ever end?"

"Does what end, your Grace?"

"The land North of the Wall. Some say there is a land of eternal winter past the Haunted Forest."

"Aye," Jon said. "The Land of Always Winter they call it. Some say it's where the Others first came from. Some say the world will end when the winter overtakes everything."

"We can't let that happen."

"No, your Grace. We won't," he'd assured her.

"Daenerys."

"Your grace?"

"You needn't be so formal when we're alone. Sometimes...sometimes I just want to feel like myself. Not a queen, not a promised princess. What good is a kingdom to rule if I forget who I am?"

"I think I know a little something about that."

"Of course you do." She smiled at him then. He remembered it still as an understanding smile that warmed him through and through.

"Do you believe in all of this? The prophecies, I mean."

"My life has made it hard to deny them. What about you, Lord Snow?"

"Jon."

"Jon. Do you believe in what the Red Woman says? That you're Azor Ahai reborn?"

"I know only what I know. She brought me back from the dead. If I help defeat the Others in the process maybe they'll write a song or legend about me. Until then, I'm just another former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. You don't trust her?"

"My life hasn't given me much reason to trust women who dabble in magic," she told him, a frown threatening to pull the corners of her mouth downward as she walked past him. "Maybe some other time I'll tell you why. Goodnight, Jon."

It had taken another month before she told him one night. They were North of the Wall on campaign and had just won a battle. The warmed wine they'd allowed themselves gave him the courage to ask her once again why she didn't trust Melisandre or magic. Daenerys drained her cup and told him, every last detail and when she was done Jon could only sit in silence. He'd heard stories about her, everyone had, but he'd never known the depth of the sadness that accompanied them.

"And now you know," she'd said quietly.

"Daenerys, I-" he began before she cut him off.

"Please don't tell me how sorry you are. I made a choice. I chose to trust someone. I live with my decision. I can't say I'll never trust Melisandre, but she's done nothing to earn my trust yet."

Jon was pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of rustling on the bed behind him. He stood from the fire and wiped his hands on his pants. When he turned around Daenerys had propped herself up on her elbow and was smiling lazily at him.

"How long have you been watching me?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Long enough," she replied.

"I should've been gone already."

"Why?"

"Because now that you're awake it'll be harder to leave. It's still the hour of the nightingale yet. You should sleep more."

"You should know better than to give commands to your queen," Dany teased and sat up in bed, the furs falling to her waist leaving the top of her body exposed.

"It was merely a suggestion," Jon replied with a grin, keeping his eyes locked on hers. "And I know what you're trying to do."

"Stay and I'll consider your suggestion."

"I can't. I've some matters to attend to in the training yard today."

"Suit yourself."

Jon watched then and she shoved the rest of the covers aside and left the bed. She's doing this on purpose. He knew that she was well aware of the effect she had on him. He followed her across the room and when she covered her body with a robe that was haphazardly strewn over a chair he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Her arms covered his and he felt her sink back into his embrace. He pulled the robe away from her shoulder enough to press a warm kiss to the soft skin.

"If I gave in to every desire, I doubt we'd leave your bed today."

An amused chuckle reverberated through Dany's body and she turned in his arms. Rising up on her toes she kissed him sweetly, tasting of the wine left on the bedside table from the night before. "Perhaps tomorrow morning."

"Not even tomorrow morning," Jon said honestly, watching her face fall into a sad smile.

"I know...call it wishful thinking."

"You deserve more." It's the truth. What can a bastard give to a queen?

"Never say that again unless you want me to strike you," Daenerys said. "There will come a day months or years from now when I will wake in your arms and won't fear the thought of you needing to be gone. For now we must do as we should."

"What can I give you?"

"Wholeness." She reached up and cupped his cheek in her small hand with a tenderness he had only ever felt from her. "I know how you see yourself, Jon. You're more than that, whether or not you chose to accept it. You're an embodiment of two great houses. You are both Targaryen and Stark and so is our child."

"I know," he said, softening. "I just...how I was raised, as a Northerner, that's all I know."

"And that's more than enough. Just never doubt yourself to me again. Never question why we belong to each other."

"I only worry for you. What if the lords don't accept this."

"We went through this last night. The lords don't have a choice. You are my choice, that's all they need be concerned with. I'm securing the friendship of the North. Anyone can see that it's an advantageous match."

"Except for any lord who had designs on wedding himself or his own son to you," Jon pointed out.

"I've told you," Dany said with an exasperated sigh. She's getting annoyed with me. But she needs to think about the consequences. "I've already married for the sake of other people's best interests and look how that turned out. I will rule best knowing there is someone by my side who loves me and supports me, not just because I'm the queen. I need someone I can trust."

She trusts me more than half of the Watch does and she's known me far less a time than some. Jon pressed his lips to Dany's forehead and lingered for a moment. These moments when they were alone together helped him remember who he was, what he was fighting for, what they were fighting for. When he had sent Sam to the Citadel to find answers about how to fight the White Walkers he had no idea that his friend would return with the newly self-proclaimed Queen of Westeros with her dragons in tow. He had admittedly been unconcerned with most of the squabbling and fighting that took place in and around King's Landing involving Daenerys and Aegon, the so-called Mummer's Dragon. Sam had sent ravens informing him of her victory, insisting that Maester Aemon must've been right about her all along. She had asked him to serve as her Maester, a post which he needed Jon's permission in order to accept. She knew who Jon was, whose son he was, and it came as little surprise to him that she required him to bend the knee to her. He'd told her in no uncertain terms that he had no desires for a throne, but he couldn't help who his parents were. She smiled at him for the first time and said she understood. She certainly hadn't chosen to be the Mad King's daughter.

"I just don't want you to regret this months or years from now," Jon murmured against her skin and felt her arms tighten around him.

"Jon Snow, if you want to take back your offer, you may do so, but I could never regret this."

"Nor could I," he reassured her. "We can ride out after night has fallen, just after the hour of the bat. Fewer people will ask questions. Meet me at the stables then."

"Until then," Dany affirmed.

Jon reluctantly stepped away from her embrace and fastened his sword about him, tossing his heavy cloak over his shoulders he called Ghost to him from his place near the hearth before walking out into the breaking daylight. He was no more than three steps from Daenerys's door when he nearly ran into Ser Barristan.

"Lord Commander Selmy," he said, nodding to the highest ranking member of the Queensguard.

"Lord Snow," the older man replied, seeming somewhat amused.

"I was just...I didn't know you'd be here and-."

"There's a riddle the Queen told me once. Who listens to everything, yet hear nothing?"

Jon stared at Ser Barristan without answering for a few moment, unsure whether or not the Queensguard was testing him or not.

"A member of the Kingsguard," Barristan replied. "My duty is to keep the queen safe, not pass judgment on who she chooses to spend her...time with."

"I thank you for your discretion, Ser," Jon said, a blush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

"No need to thank me. What can a man who hears nothing say? Good day, Lord Snow."

Jon nodded as he walked past Barristan, his mind still attempting to wrap around what had just occurred. Despite the old knight's words he couldn't help but feel self-conscious about being seen leaving Daenerys's rooms. Better Ser Barristan than Ser Jorah. While Jon believed the Queensguard's words to be true: that he would not judge his queen for what he perceived to be the reason for Jon leaving her chambers at first light. He could not say the same for Ser Jorah.

From the onset of even his friendship with Dany, Jon felt as if shades of jealousy painted Jorah's face. She had told him all that transpired over the years between her and the man she met upon her marriage to Khal Drogo. His service, betrayal, exile, and ultimately, her forgiveness. Jon wasn't sure he would have been so kind, Even without Dany blatantly saying so, it was clear Jorah was perhaps more than devoted to her. He worships the ground she walks upon and hangs on her every word. He's even kissed her once long ago. The one time he brought it up in conversation late at night, Dany merely shook her head and said he had nothing to fear where Jorah was concerned, he wasn't the one sharing her bed or her heart. That should have been enough for him. Indeed, it was enough for him, he didn't doubt her devotion. She had never given him a reason to. The dilemma posed by a secret relationship was that he couldn't defend it to the likes of Ser Jorah Mormont.

Jon proceeded through the motions of the day as if it had been any other. He dined with the men in the hall and tried to avoid any unnecessary glances towards Daenerys. She was flanked by Ser Jorah on one side and Missandei on the other. He was sure Ser Barristan wasn't far away. He had noted early on that she didn't stay cooped up in the King's Tower, but preferred to be about the men. It was no wonder they were so devoted to her. Having left the Common Hall he made his way down to the training yard, content to see the men already hard at work. He had been impressed by the obedience and sheer will and determination of the Unsullied that Dany brought with her to the wall, along with about half of her Dothraki horde. There were so many of them that Castle Black couldn't possibly hope to accommodate them all. Jon had sent a number of them to the different strongholds along the Wall.

Satisfied with the progress of the trainees, Jon left the yard for the rookery. He tried hard not to think about all of the times he visited Maester Aemon there, seeking his sage advice. His words of Kill the boy and let the man be born still often rang in his ears. It was from the Maester's lips that he first heard the name Daenerys. He could still remember the inexplicable feeling it evoked. She was young, she was alone in the world, and Aemon believed she needed to be protected. From what or whom he could not say, but he felt keenly aware of his responsibility to respect the Maester's words.

"Sam?" Jon called out as he entered the rookery. The space was dimly lit and smelled of old books and scrolls, of candle wax and ink.

"Three rows down," the new maester replied and Jon followed the sound of his voice.

"Hard at work as usual."

"I keep thinking there must be something I've overlooked or something we've misinterpreted all these years."

"I have a favor to ask of you. Are you alone now?"

"No one else cares much about the book save for Gilly and Missandei and they're both off attending to other things."

"Good, because what I ask of you requires the utmost discretion."

"The last time you asked me something like that you sent me to the Citadel," Sam said warily. "Am I going to like the sound of this?"

"Probably not," Jon replied, allowing himself a smirk at his friend's usual reluctance. "But you're the only person who can do this for me, for us."

"Us? Who is us?"

"I mean to wed Daenerys in front of the heart tree tonight, the one where we said our vows on the edge of the Haunted Forest."

"You're….what? Does she know about it?"

"Of course she knows about it."

"I knew there was something between the two of you, but I thought you we just showing her how the Northerners stay warm at night, d'you know what I mean?"

Jon rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Yes Sam, I know what you mean. And no, that's not all that's between us. I can assure you."

"What do you need me for? You don't need a maester to marry in front of a heart tree."

"I need you to go ahead of us. Take a lantern or two and wait for us there. And I need you to find the words we're to say to each other. Can you do that for me, Sam?"

"Of course I can." He stood up a little taller then. "It would be my honor."

"Good," Jon clapped him on the shoulder and made for the door. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"Jon wait. Do you love her then? The queen I mean."

More than I thought I could. More than I ever wanted to. More than I probably should. "I do," Jon nodded simply and left the rookery.

Nightfall came at an excruciatingly slow pace, but just after the watch changed he slipped from his rooms and made his way to the stables. With a bit of luck Sam would have already been gone out ahead of them already. Jon didn't fear the thought of leaving Castle Black alone with Daenerys. There were any number of excuses to be used as an explanation of why they were riding out together north of the Wall, but because she was the Queen she answered to no one. He doubted any of his men would dare ask her why she was leaving.

He dressed that night not in the black garments his still wore on day in and day out of habit, but instead donned the attire of the Starks. The doublet was a greyish shade of blue and his surcoat was supple brown leather. It reminded him of the only father he ever knew, the man who put duty, honor, and promises he made above everything else. I may be a Targaryen, but the man I owe my life to, the man I will always call father is Ned Stark. It pained Jon that he would never know his mother. He tried hard to remember every detail of the stories he heard about her when he was growing up, when he still believed she was his headstrong aunt. Whenever he went south to Winterfell he visited the crypt to pay his respects, but stone statues couldn't speak or comfort and he always left with a heavy heart. He asked Dany to tell him stories she had been told about Rhaegar as well. He searched them for similarities to himself, longing to feel a connection to a man, no a legend, he would never meet. He was jealous when Dany told him she sometimes still dreamt of her eldest brother.

"Do not envy me," she had told him. "For every two dreams I have, there is a nightmare lurking within the night as well."

The hour of the bat followed dusk as Jon made his way to the stables. He expected to arrive first and saddle the horses but when he reached the stable doors he saw Daenerys already tending to her silver. He held back for a moment, taking in the sight before him. Beneath her heavy, grey fur-lined cloak she wore a long blue dress. It was a color she wore often. As always she wore boots. Her hair was down about her shoulders, adorned with only a few small braids. He liked it best that way and allowed himself to think briefly that she knew and had it fixed accordingly. It was something she would do. He noticed that Dany preferred small gestures of that nature as opposed to grand ones just to make a show. She'd stocked her decanters with his favorite wine, wore a gown in his presence if he'd commented on it, teased him in ways she knew she could get away with. She was effortlessly beautiful even inside of a dank stable.

"Are you going to saddle your house or stand in the doorway all evening?" Daenerys asked, a smirk playing on her lips. "I can see you standing there."

"I'm sorry, I was just-"

"Staring?"

"Can you blame me?" Jon asked, walking forward into the stable. He covered her hand on the silver's bridle, the only gesture he could allow himself.

"I could, but where would that leave us?"

"Are you ready then? I sent Sam out ahead of us."

"Sam? What for?"

"Just to make sure it's safe and I've asked him to look up words to say. I've seen people wed before, but I was young."

"Does he need to say anything as a maester?" Dany asked.

"No, I didn't ask him because he's a maester. The old gods have no priests, septons, or maesters. I asked him because I knew we could trust him. He was the closest to Maester Aemon. I thought he could speak on your behalf."

"We best not keep him waiting then."

The pair mounted their horses and rode out of the stables, Ghost meandering in between them. Though the night had already come a full moon shone brightly ahead, lighting their way. Men milled about Castle Black but as far as Jon could tell, they paid them no heed. Jon wondered how Dany had been able to leave without the ever-present Barristan or Jorah at her side. They rode silently to the grove of heart trees within the Haunted Forest. During the morning and daylight hours the woods could be filled with free folk hunting for prey, but at night many of them returned again to their homes to escape the cold. Jon thought of the first time he had ridden north of the wall to the grove of heart trees when he and Sam and his brothers said their vows. It had all seemed so long ago. Another lifetime, truly. He remembered the words the Old Bear had said to him more than once. The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Those words never rang more true after Ygritte, but glancing over at Daenerys, seeing her breath in the cold winter air, Jon couldn't help but think Mormont had been wrong. Melisandre might have resurrected Jon, but Dany brought him back to life. She reminded him of his purpose, gave him focus and vision. She was someone who believed in him and someone he, in turn, could put his faith in as well.

The light from Sam's lanterns grew brighter and brighter until sooner than he realized they were in the midst of the weirwood grove. He dismounted and walk around to help Dany from her silver, much more out of propriety than necessity. Although she was probably more skilled on horseback than anyone he knew she had the grace not to refuse him and placed her gloved hand firmly in his own.

"Your Grace," Sam said, bowing deeply before her.

"Rise Maester Samwell," Daenerys replied, shaking her head. "You know there is no need for such formalities. Especially here. You honor me and my house by your assistance and discretion tonight."

"Have you found what I asked, Sam?" Jon asked.

"I have. It's right here." The maester handed him a small scroll and took it back once his friend had read it over.

"Ghost to me," Jon said as he walked toward the familiar weirwood with its ominous carved face.

Sam offered Dany his arm and led her into the grove before the heart tree. Her porcelain skin glowed in the moonlight and the stars shown over them like an endless sea of light.

"Who comes?" Jon asked, reciting the ancient words. "Who comes before the god?"

"Daenerys of House Targaryen comes here to be wed," Sam answered. "A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"I do. Jon of...Houses Stark and Targaryen. I claim her. Who gives her?"

"Samwell of House Tarly. In the place of her family, of the late Aemon Targaryen. Daenerys, will you take this man?"

"I take this man," Dany said confidently, and Jon thought he saw the glisten of tears well up in her eyes though she was smiling at him.

Taking her by the hand, Jon led Daenerys to kneel before the heart tree. He bowed his head and begged the old gods to bless their union, to keep them safe, to make them strong against their foes. Give me the strength to protect her and our child. Give me the wisdom and courage to do what I must to guard the realm. Gazing up into the carved face of the tree he wondered if his brother and Bloodraven were watching them. When he glanced sideways at Dany her eyes were closed and her head was still bowed. He could only guess what she was praying for. She had told him once that she wasn't sure what believed in anymore. The Faith of the Seven seemed altogether too politically inclined for her liking. They had supported Aegon in his conquest of Westeros and she had spared them in her mercy when she defeated the Mummer's Dragon. She wondered aloud one night if all of the gods were one in the same, but a different expression based upon each people's beliefs. Far off in the distance a wolf howled. Jon knew that howl. It was as familiar to him as his brother's laugh. He knew without a doubt it was Summer. Ghost looked a Jon, cocked his head and then trotted off in the direction of his brother.

Jon squeezed Dany's hand and helped her rise to her feet. Pulling her close he cupped her face in his hand and kissed his wife for the first time. The ceremony had been brief. It lacked the pomp and frivolity of the Faith, but Jon felt as if it bound them together more wholly. They were making a promise and a vow to one another, with the blessing of the old gods, but not solely for them. He helped Dany back onto her horse and together they rode the short distance to Castle Black, as silently as they had on their journey to the Haunted Forest. Even Sam recognized the solemnity of the occasion and remind quiet.

They left the horses with Sam and the stable hands and climbed the steps to the wall walk that led to the King's Tower. Jon resisted every urge to reach out for Dany, to hold her hand, to slip his arm about her hip. There would be time enough for that. He searched the training yard below for any signs of Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan or anyone who might have known they left Castle Black, and found none. It wasn't uncommon for him to be at the King's Tower with her. Many nights were spent with her small council going over maps and strategies. On this night the only people inside her chambers when they entered were Irri and Jhiqui, even Missandei was elsewhere. Dany removed her cloak and handed it to one of the women along with her gloves.

"Irri, Jhiqui leave us for the night," she said stepping close to the fire to warm her hands. "I won't have need of you until the morning. Lord Snow and I have matters to attend to."

Jon waited until the women left the tower before walking up behind Daenerys and placing his hands on her hips. He held her for a few moments before moving her silvery gold hair away from her neck and placing his lips against her ear.

"And what sort of matters must you attend to tonight, my queen?" he whispered.

"Most important matters with my husband," she replied. "And I don't want us to be disturbed."

Without another word Daenerys pulled away from him and led him from the hearth. She reached up and unfastened his cloak, letting it fall heavily to the ground. Jon removed his gloves and tossed them onto the table next to a plate or food and the decanter of wine that had been left for them. He let Dany take his hands into hers, lacing their fingers together and feeling her thumb graze over the scarred skin of his right hand. She reached up and kissed him then, slowly and full of longing. Jon pulled her to himself and deepened the kiss, drinking her in and wanting to taste every inch of her. He audibly groaned when she broke the kiss. With a grin pulling at the corners of her full lips, Dany began to unlace the leather surcoat, making quick work of it and pushing it off his shoulders to join his cloak on the floor. Shedding his doublet, he gave his new wife access to a grey linen shirt. Her warm hands slid under the hem and pushed it up as her palms ghosted over the planes of his scarred and battle hardened torso and chest. As the shirt passed over his head Jon leaned forward to capture Dany's lips once more.

"I wasn't finished," she murmured against him.

"Forgive me, but I realized I was grossly underdressed compared to you."

"Perhaps you should do something about that."

"I fully intend to."

Jon thought he heard the faintest squeal pass Dany's lips as he turned her around and began pulling at the fine laces on her gown. He nearly growled in frustration. It would have been easier if she was wearing one of her gauzy light dresses of Essos or even a Dothraki painted vest. The more formal gowns were a nuisance to him. His fingers pulled on the laces until the fabric gave way with a riiiip.

"Do not tear my gown anymore," Dany said, turning around to reveal she was more amused than upset. With a bit of maneuvering she slipped the garment from her shoulder and let it slide down her frame and pool at her hips. Jon reached out and pushed it down the rest of the way, holding her hand as she stepped out of it and into his arms.

Jon was no poet, no troubadour or minstrel, yet at the sight of Daenerys, hisbride, standing before him he felt as if he could write a thousand songs and still not be able to describe her beauty. Somewhere, ages and ages hence someone would write songs about her. They would tell of her bravery, her courage, her dragons, and yes, her beauty, but no one would know it as he knew it. No one would know how soft her skin is, the fullness of her lips, the way she could smile with only her laughing violet eyes, the sighs that were his alone, the way she curled up to him in the night…

"You're far away," Daenerys said, putting her fingers under his chin. "I can tell."

"I'm right here," Jon replied. "I was thinking about you."

"Why think of me when you can love me?"

"That I can do."

Jon lifted Dany into his arms and carried her over to the bed, setting her down gently. She held him close and peppered kisses across his face as her hands roamed over his chest, shoulders, and back. They had been together dozens upon dozens of times. Sometimes it was a stolen moment, heated and frenzied, other times they took their pleasure at a more leisurely pace, yet no matter the circumstance her touch could still raise the hairs on the back of his neck. Dany moaned in protest when Jon's lips left hers but he heard her breath catch in her throat when his mouth trailed down her body, paying close attention to every spot that made her gasp and sigh and bury her hands in his hair. After he caused her first release she pulled him back up so they were face to face once more. Her deft fingers unlaced his breeches and she pushed them down. When she stroked him and guided him to her center he rested his forehead against her, pausing briefly before joining their lips and their bodies in unison. They moved together, a tangle of limbs, lust, and love and Jon allowed himself to relinquish the final grasps he had on his past. This night was another rebirth for him, another step away from the life he had known for so long. He had taken a wife, he would father sons and daughters if the gods so pleased, but he held no regret. In another time and another place he had needed to be a man of the Watch, but the Night's Watch he had believed in as a boy no longer existed. Kill the boy and let the man be born. What remained at the Wall now were men who were called to a higher purposes, just as he now was. He would still protect the realm by pledging his life, his heart, and his soul to its union would reforged a dynasty with a pact of ice and fire such as the world had never known before.

Dany arched into Jon, meeting him thrust for thrust in the steady rhythm he set. Jon could feel himself nearing the edge, reaching the breaking point. He nipped at her pulse point and soothed it with his tongue, feeling the heartbeat and fire beneath her skin. She tightened her grip on him, her heels digging into his back when they had once been languidly brushing his calves. Jon could tell Dany was trying her best to be quiet as she bit her lower lip and then pressed her head back against the pillow, her hips jutting into his. As he pulled back slightly, her eyes opened and she gazed up at him almost pleadingly to give them what they both desired. When her moment of ecstasy came Jon covered Dany's mouth with his own, swallowing up her cries. He buried his head in the crook of her neck when he came moments later, his entire body spent.

"Jon," Daenerys whispered so softly he barely heard it. Her breasts were still heaving beneath him as she tried to catch her breath. She nuzzled his forehead, placing featherlight kisses on his temple.

"Hmmm?" It was the only response he could muster for a moment. He kissed her shoulder, her neck and chin, and finally her lips. "Did I not love you well enough, wife?"

"Oh no, you most certainly did. Say that again."

"What?"

"Call me your wife again."

"Can I get my wife anything?" he asked, letting a strand of her hair slip through his fingers. She picked her head up and brushed her lips over his before sinking back into her pillow with a contented sigh.

"Wine?" she suggested.

"Wine it is," Jon replied pushing himself off the bed. He didn't bother with clothes as he strode the short distance to the table and poured them a cup. Picking up the platter of food for good measure he set it next to Daenerys and climbed back onto the bed.

"Did you work up an appetite?"

"A bit," he shrugged, handing the goblet to her. "I thought you might be hungry."

She sipped the wine and handed it back to him. Jon watched as she carefully selected a bite from the tray and reclined on her side. Dany pushed the plate towards him as she stretched her limbs.

"You can have the fish, the smell of it practically makes me ill now."

"Don't Irri and Jhiqui know that?" Jon asked.

"Of course," she replied, looking up at him. "But you like it so I told them to add it."

"You didn't have to," he said, taking a gulp of wine and placing it on the bedside table. He eased onto the bed so that his head was close to hers.

"I wanted to. You're my husband, let me spoil you in the little ways that I can."

"But I can't-"

Dany pressed a finger to his lips. "Jon, don't finish that sentence. We are equals. You've given me things no one else has. If I can't tell the whole world you're mine yet then let me have what little moments I can without protest from you. Out there we are who Westeros needs us to be, but within these walls we are Jon and Dany, two people who fell in love when their world was falling apart around them. Will you let me have that?"

"I suppose I should," he said with a rueful smile. "It's the least I can do for what you've given to me."

Jon reached out and slid his hand over the soft sheet that covered Daenerys. Her chambers were a fusion of all the different cultures she had lived in. The sheets covering her were light and silky, fitting for the warmth of Essos and complimentary to the furs that were pushed to the foot of the bed. His finger-tips crept over the barely visible swell beneath the blankets. Clothed in the heavy woolen dresses and furs it was impossible to detect, but naked and exquisitely exposed the signs of life within her were evident. Our child. Perhaps a boy with silver hair or a girl with raven hair and purple eyes like her mother. Dany's hand brushed over his and her fingers traced his knuckles.

"I actually noticed first this time," she said.

"Noticed?" Jon asked.

"With Rhaego I didn't quite know what was happening. I had suspected, but it took Irri to make me realize it was true. This time though...I think I knew from the beginning, even before you left. I just felt different. I'd lie awake at night and not feel so alone."

"How much longer until, I mean, when will it be here?"

"Four or five moons from now."

"That doesn't give us much time."

"I already promised you," Daenerys reminded him. "If we feel as if the situation becomes too dangerous here I will go to Winterfell."

"Is Winterfell worthy of the birth of a prince or princess."

"It was worthy enough to be the home of the king consort of Westeros. Why should his child not be born there?"

"King consort," Jon repeated uncertainly.

"That's what you've become this night."

"I know. It just seems strange."

Daenerys took his face in her hands. "You're my king of choice, the king of my heart. I'm not asking you to rule. I'm asking you to stand by my side."

"And that I will do," Jon assured her with a chaste kiss. "For now. For always."