The Dragon of Winter

Chapter 7

Jon

They stood in a blanket of silence as they gave their ears to hearing Arya's snappy protests echo into the distance. He and Daenerys both shared the amused expression at hearing the nine-year-old Stark's snarls and whines only because she refused to go to a sewing lesson.

That's what he had always loved about Arya; her undeniable determination for almost any activity, small or big. Her wild side shone through her, even though many figures in the castle were trying to mould her into something she was not. Many spoke about her likeness to Lyanna, and even the simple knowledge that Arya and him still had a connection was enough to deliver Jon some comfort.

When Arya's howls had finally ended, Daenerys turned her silver head to face Jon.

And at that moment, Jon realised how much he had missed her over the past weeks. The revelation of his parentage had buried Jon into a pit of woe and brooding. He missed losing himself in her eyes of deep dreams of longing. Her smile that made everything feel better, even the silver hair atop her perfect head brought Jon into peace that only death could contend with.

At that, Jon noticed her long hair had been twisted into two braids that crowned her head.

"Your hair. Who did it?" Jon asked her.

He watched as she smiled and patted the braids. He could not push the feelings of lust that had flickered deep inside him.

"My handmaiden. I asked her to, it reminds me of when I was a child." She replied, her eyes looked sad for a moment, like they longed for the time of innocence and pure joy.

To Jon, it felt strange to see Daenerys with a handmaiden. She had managed so well without one. Jon couldn't help but wonder as to why Eddard and Catelyn had chosen to give her one now; probably for extra security…

He pushed the thought out of his head; Sansa had countless handmaidens in the past.

"Jon?" He snapped his attention back to Daenerys, "I want to show you something."

She led Jon back into her chambers, allowing Jon to ponder what she wanted.

"Daenerys?" Jon asked her as she disappeared under her bed, leaving only noises of fumbling and rustling in her place.

Her silver head emerged again, and in her tender hands Jon could see she was holding a chest firmly held against her body. She gripped onto it like a mother holds a babe, protecting it.

"I wanted to show you this as soon as I found out your parentage." She spoke as she padded to the fireplace that sat before her bed. A fire already burned inside it.

A feeling of warmth and comfort flooded through his body. The feeling made him feel alive, strong and loved. It seemed to clear every trouble from inside, replacing them with only fire- fire and love.

As a child, it perplexed Jon when a fire was lit; why he felt so incredible, why the others would back away in far, yet he would be drawn in with a dancing flicker in his eyes.

But now it made sense, and Jon would light a fire every evening. He would sit on his floor, spending hours gazing into the brilliant, flickering dance of every flame. Seeing dragons and silver-haired people.

He turned his mind back to Dany. She was standing before him, the flicker of the fire lighting her face in cascades of gold, orange and red. He could feel the beat of his melting heart quicken, and just like with the fire, he had the inevitable urge to walk closer to her.

It was like his dreams, where dragons conquered his head.

There was always someone riding the dragons, and that someone was always Daenerys.

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Daenerys

"Jon." The words well off her lips as she watched the raven-haired boy gaze into her eyes.

There was no way of stopping the words in her head uttering kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

It was like a prayer, a never-ending glorious prayer.

She lit her attention back onto the chest that stood at her trembling feet. She bent down, opening it and revealing its contents to Jon.

"Dragons' eggs…" Were the only words that fell out of Jon's gaping mouth.

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Jon

"Yes Jon, they were given to me in Pentos." She said, raising one off the scaled beauties into his trembling hands.

It was like the fire, when the egg touched him.

He felt strong.

He felt brave.

And he never wanted to let go.

"Feels amazing, does it not?" She asked in a warm tone, watching as Jon's hands stroked the silver egg.

Jon nodded, feeling even better knowing he shared the feeling with Daenerys.

He heard the sound of another egg being lifted from the wooden chest, but this time Daenerys didn't cradle it in her arms.

This time she placed it onto the burning coals in the fireplace.

Jon knew she could see his confused expression on his face, and said "I do not know why I do this… it just feels right. The ages have turned the eggs into stone, and just knowing that the eggs are in the fire where they belong brings comfort to me." Her eyes looked sad for a moment, and Jon could feel it too; thinking of dead dragons brought only gloom and grief.

"Sometimes… sometimes I think that the fire will wake them again." She said hesitantly.

Jon smiled and placed himself beside her. Both of them sat, losing themselves in the dance of dragons and flames.

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Daenerys

They were so close she could hear his breathing, the fast beat of his heart. It was like they were being drawn closer, every flare of light in the fire made her move nearer to his warm body.

Like it was an instinct, Daenerys reached her arms out to touch the egg. As her finger tips were about to feel the scaled egg, Jon gasped to stop her from burning her flesh. As fast as an arrow from a cross bow, he reached his arms into the flames to pull Daenerys' out. His hand grasped onto the red-hot egg, creating an aggressive burning sound.

Slowly, Jon brought his hands out. She watched as he opened them, only to see his pink skin completely unscathed.

His eyes became wide, and breath became louder in adrenaline.

"Your hands." He gasped. She opened her hands, and Jon saw that they were too, completely unburnt.

"How?" He breathed, shaking his head.

Daenerys only had one answer.

"You, you have the blood of the dragon, I do too. We are dragons, you and I."

Their lips were so close now, and every hair on Daenerys' warm body stood up.

The voices in her head became louder, and like a war drum they made her lips meet with Jon's.

The kiss was tender; she could feel fires lighting inside of her. She grasped onto Jon's shirt, afraid that the beautiful dream would leave her. But she knew it was no dream.

She let out deep breaths while they kissed, and she could feel a burning passion growing inside of her and Jon. She moved her hands around his body, feeling every inch of his skin and muscles. The kiss became deeper, and every nerve inside of her was telling her to never stop.

It was easy to follow; tongue, lips, mouth, neck. It was like she had kissed a hundred times before, like she knew exactly what to do. Yet, with Jon it all came to her, despite it being her first kiss.

They pulled away, and all Daenerys could say was "Jon."

She pulled him into a tight embrace, and the constant lapping of the fire allowed her to slowly drift off to sleep, immersing herself into a world of dreams around Jon Snow.

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Jon

She looked so beautiful when she slept, and the calming crackle of fire kept Jon at absolute peace. Her braids had become loose. He carefully tucked a strand of Daenerys' silver hair behind her ear and listened as she made soft sounds as she dreamt. Over the weeks, slow sparks had floated between himself and Dany, and every time he looked into her enthralling violet eyes he felt a passion inside him growing.

The moment their lips had met, a blazing fire of dragons had begun to burn, so rapidly neither of them had time to think of why. Yet, the kiss had felt so right, like it was meant to happen.

"I never want to leave this room, I want to stay here forever and ever…" Jon murmured to himself quietly while he caressed Daenerys' pink cheek.

"My lady?"

In a blur of swift movement, Jon whipped his head round to see who had spoken behind him.

It was a woman. She stood tall in the doorway, with pale skin and golden-brown locks that were piled atop her head in tight braids. Everything about her looked northern, but there was something- something about her that told him otherwise.

He slowly moved his legs from Dany's head and placed a pillow in their stead. As he trudged closer to the woman, he noticed small patches of sun-kissed golden skin, and her eyes were an exotic mess of summer.

"Mi'lord?" She said. Her voice was stained with a thick northern accent, but Jon could hear a slight Sothern tilt in her voice. He wasn't sure what to make of the girl.

"Who are you?" Jon inquired, furrowing his brows as the girl smiled kindly.

"Aliya, I am the handmaiden of Daenerys." She spoke with confidence beamed over her, like she had practised every word she said.

"And why are you here?"

"To check on the Lady, I thought she would want a bath…" She replied, still dauntless and smiling.

Jon decided to let the girl slide, he was fatigued himself, and wanted to rest for the night. He allowed a smile to break onto his face as he told Aliya, "I will take Daenerys to bed, but you can bathe her tomorrow."

Aliya nodded and smiled once more, before she departed and swung the door shut, her shoes echoing throughout the castle halls.

"Mmm…" Jon turned around to see that Daenerys had awoken. She was reaching out her hand to try and touch the eggs that still remained upon the fire. Once her finger tips felt the surface of the egg, she grasped onto it until she managed to pull it into her arms.

She stood up and strode over to Jon, egg cradled in her arms.

"I want you to have this Jon." She said, trying to place the egg into his hands.

Jon kept his hands to his sides," No. They are yours. I am half Targaryen, half wolf. They belong to you."

Daenerys shook her head, "Jon. The fire did you no harm, and I am no more Targaryen than you. I want you to have it." She said stubbornly, laughter trickling in her voice.

Jon conceded her words, and granted her to bestow the egg onto his hands. He marvelled at the white egg's beauty, fingering every scale.

"The egg can't be dead."

Daenerys' head peeked up to look at Jon.

"It can't be dead… because it makes me feel so alive."

Daenerys picked up another egg, stroking it. "The dragons can never be dead. We are dragons Jon."

And at that Jon kissed Daenerys again, feeling her warmth. She made him feel alive.

'Perhaps she is a dragon.' Jon thought as they pulled away.

Daenerys was gazing into his eyes, smiling as she stroked Jon's mass of black curls.

"I love you, Jon Snow. And I never want to leave this beautiful dream…"

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Pentos

Viserys

He glared at Illiryo as he passed a scroll into his clenched hands.

"What is this?" He demanded of his host.

Illiryo swallowed in dismay as the exiled Targaryen sneered and spat in rage, but continued to speak, "A raven from Winterfell." A sadistic smile flowed onto Viserys' face.

Viserys' eyes gleamed in a vengeful pride as Illiryo finished his sentence; "Our little spying girl has found out some very big news."

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