A/N: This one is a touch longer that usual, but you may have to wait a bit longer for the next update (I'm sort of in the middle of my last set of A level exams THUS). Thank you all for the lovely reviews though, I'm super glad you're enjoying it!
"…running low on supplies, after the wildling raids."
"The king promised you provisions." The princess blinked slowly at the man stooped in front of her.
"With all due respect your grace, none have come. Mole's town is emptying. I only stay to serve your grace. The Watch has been good to me but-"
"But the Watch is no more. I understand." She cut across him. The hour was early, her breakfast lay untouched beside her, but the man had looked desperate. "Do you have a family, sir?"
"A daughter your grace, and a wife. But there is naught for her to do now that the village is…" he trailed off, looking down at his hands "I just want for them to be safe."
Dany nodded her head and reached for a sheet of parchment. She wrote neatly, and when she was done she rolled the letter up and sealed it with blood red wax. The man took it tentatively.
"Can you read?" she asked
The man shook his head.
"Travel south with your family. Give this to whichever lord you reach first. It will guarantee work for you and your wife. In exchange" she continued "we must have men for the Watch. It may not be what it once was, but Castle Black needs fortifying. The North cannot be left unwatched."
"Thank you, your grace. I'll go at once."
"Ensure the Lord Commander is fed before you do."
"Of course your grace. Th-thank you."
He bowed from the middle and backed out of the room, clutching the letter between his hands tightly. Dany waited until he was gone to lower her face into a hand, heer eyes closed against the light streaming through the window. When she opened them again, the sun had moved, and there was a knocking on the door. She sighed.
"Yes?" she called, pulling the furs from her shoulders and shaking herself awake. She turned her gaze to the door. "Jon." She said in surprise, and then checked herself. "I'm sorry, Lord Commander."
"Jon is fine, your grace." he replied
"I would insist you call me Dany but Ser Jorah may take issue with that. Even he insists on calling me Khaleesi, a practice I have often…but you don't want to hear about that." She cut herself off, surprised at her own rambling.
Jon smiled, and it was a soft smile. Something had grown in him over the past few days. Maybe it was the potential his sister had offered blooming in his chest. Dany knew how empowered authority could make a person, and Jon seemed no exception.
"I apologise for interrupting, your grace." He said, glancing at her breakfast
"Oh don't be, I wasn't much hungry anyway. She gestured to a seat which he took gently, sinking into it with much more grace than he had a week ago "your health improves?"
"Every day" he affirmed "thanks to your help." She nodded genuinely "but I actually came to speak to you about Harrerd."
"He has informed you of his departure? Word spreads quickly through this castle."
Jon let out a dry chuckle, something she hadn't heard before. It both amused and confused her. "Yes and I, of course trust your judgement, but I can't help think we need more men."
"And I sent him for some" she explained, picking at the food on the board in front of her. "Whoever will give them. I am told Mole's Town is emptying."
"That is why I'm here. I think I could persuade them, some of them, to come north and help us here. The Castle is not what it once was."
"I wouldn't know." She said carefully, seeing the web of his plan coming together thread by thread in front of her. "You think you can convince them?"
"I know I can try." He pointed out "and even if more men do adhere to your summons, it won't be soon."
Dany watched his face, looking for any clue of deceit. She may be drawn to him, in ways she could not quite understand yet, but here he was still a stranger. She knew his history, but how was she to know his nature. He was a Snow, though that did not make him any less of a Stark. Dany had been born into a name without a house, and Jon had been born into a house without a name. They both had things to reclaim, and how he intended to do that was a mystery still.
One thing was for sure, this would tell.
"Alright." She said eventually "will you go alone?"
"I can reach Mole's town and be back within a day your grace, if I leave at once."
"Then leave at once." She smiled and gestured towards the door. He pursed his lips and nodded, standing to leave. "One more thing" she said as he backed away "your sister. Have you made a decision?"
Jon paused, looking back at her with an unreadable expression. After a moment he turned back to her fully. "And if I had?" he asked, lifting his chin.
"You'd have to know I will be loyal to my nephew." She replied, though a hand followed the words out of her throat and squashed them into a lie. Something in his eyes caught her off guard, something that bent the words she spoke into something she didn't recognise. She was frozen, trapped by a sudden need to have him know that had not been the truth. That she was not here for her nephew.
She couldn't understand how she knew, or why she did, but she knew she was here for him.
In what capacity, she was yet to know.
"Your grace." He made a small bow.
"Jon" she repeated desperately, mouth dry, eyes confused. Trying to hold him in her presence for a moment longer, so the feeling wasn't ripped from her and left in tatters like it had been once before "be careful."
He turned at the door and nodded to her, but only had his body halfway out before Ser Jorah was pushing past him.
No, not past him, through him.
He had Jon by the front of his body, hands gripping tightly into his leather vest. They crashed into the wall opposite.
"Ser Jorah!" Dany exclaimed, forcing herself to stand "let him go."
"What was your plan? You and the imp, you have been plotting against her." He spat. Dany moved around to stand beside the two men, ming struggling to move from the moment she had just shared with Jon, to the present.
"Ser Jorah let him go." She repeated
"I heard you taling. The dwarf thinks he's clever but he is not clever - enough."
He punctuated the last word with another shove, eliciting a breathless gasp from his victim. Jon raked in breath, and with a sharp shove, pushed Jorah off him. Dany stepped between them quickly. When she knew Jorah was going to stay put she turned to Jon.
"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.
"Fine, your grace." He wiped a hand across his mouth. She nodded, meeting his eyes with a small smile, and then freezing her features, she turned back to Ser Jorah.
"I have exiled you once for carrying out acts that angered me." She said with a voice like stone.
"I am only trying to protect you. It is the imp, Khaleesi, he has a plan. He wants to hurt you." The blank expression he had worn for so long melted from his face and in his stooped posture and imploring hands, Dany saw in him the same man that she had sent from her so long ago. One that knew he had done wrong. "Please Khaleesi, I heard-"
She cut him off with a raised hand, and then slowly turned to Jon. "What is he talking about?" she asked softly, half of her hoping he was wrong, and half of her knowing he was right. Jon's eyes wavered for a moment, glancing around the room before they settled on her own. He shook his head ever so slightly.
"We are not plotting. He overheard correctly, but Lord Tyrion was advising me. On…other matters." He swallowed visibly "I would never hurt you. And neither would he."
"Why is it you carry the sword?" Jorah put in loudly. "Everywhere you go that sword is always strapped to your back. Do you not trust your princess?" he demanded., and then turned to her "why do you think he was left like he was your grace, why do you think his brothers' turned on him?" Dany could see his desperation, but at the mention of the sword, a piece of the puzzle fell comfortably into place. And it seemed, by the resignation he showed at those words, it did for Jon too.
"I know you believe this sword ought to belong to you. And perhaps it did, in the past." Jon started, sounding a little strained. Dany noted the way his hand clutched his midriff. She held herself back from reaching out to support him. He stepped past her, so they stood in an open triangle, with Jorah ahead of her, and Jon to the left.
"What right do you have to it?" Jorah retorted, picking up the thread. "What makes you think you deserve it more than I?"
"That was not for me to judge. I saved your father's life, and this was my reward."
Jorah went to step towards Jon again, but Dany interceded, pressing a hand softly, but firmly to Jorah's chest. He did not take his eyes from Jon's.
"Ser Jorah I think you should leave." She said sternly. He didn't move. "That is an order." She said, louder. He looked down at her, grimacing, and without warning grabbed her arm, yanking her away from Jon in one swift movement. The cry was pulled from the air by the jostle, and she stumbled, coming up hard against the back of a chair. His fingers had her arm in a vice grip, digging in with strength she wasn't away he still harboured. The shock had torn the courage from her, his actions surprise enough to stun her to immobility. He jostled her again, until a sword came between them, flat side sliding across Jorah's chest until its edge came level with his throat.
"Let go of her" Jon demanded, voice rough. Dangerous. Dany looked over at him, feeling the grip on her arm lessen enough for her to gather her senses and pull herself free. It gave Jon the room to side step and put ser Jorah at the point of his sword. "You know this is Valyrian steel, you know how easily I could just…" he twisted the point ever so slightly, until beads of blood began to erupt from the skin of his neck. Dany heard a bark, and a violent raking at the door. She backed further away. "You touch her again; I'll let Ghost do my job for me."
Dany reached forward and laid a hand gently on Jon's arm. Then she looked across at Ser Jorah.
Her Knight. Her bear. Her once truest friend and most trusted advisor.
"Leave." She said once, pushing the fear from her voice. "Now."
"Khaleesi-" Jon straightened his sword arm again, prompting the man back another step. He didn't need another word after that, just the determination in her eyes and Longlaw's point pressed to his chest. He backed away silently, turning back once at the door, and then disappearing into the cold. Jon let his arm drop, and without warning Dany had a body full of him, guiding him to a seat as Longclaw clattered to the ground. She bent in front of him, shoved the hair out of his eyes.
"Did he hurt you." He asked, reaching for her arm. She shook her head, marvelling at the gentle manner in which he held wrist. She looked up, watching his face warped with concern.
"Thank you" she aid softly, pulling her arm back so she could take hold of his hand. It shook against her palm, whether from the exertion or anger she didn't know, but it struck something in her, the anger he felt, was the ager she had felt. She recognised the look in his eyes, the same remorse, and the same confusion.
"I-"
"Shh." She said, rubbing a finger gently along Jon's. He looked up to meet her gaze, curious and wanting, but wary and guarded all at once. She had never seen such expressive eyes, a dark and light shade of grey, broody and bright like the sun creeping out from behind a mass of ashy clouds. They held wisdom, and pain, and thought, like a newborn child, like he knew the value of each and every facet. They were their own type of fierce, less bold like hers, and more stoic. A nobleman's eyes. Eyes of honour.
"I would never hurt you" he said, with a minute shake of the head, and then with one hand cradled in her own, and the other creeping up slowly to brush a hair back from her face, he leant forward and kissed her. Quickly, so he could pull back, look for affirmation.
Dany gave it.
And then she kissed him, pushing his body back into the chair and heaving her own forwards, legs manoeuvring so she could slip into his lap, a leg either side of him. She buried her hands in his hair, felt the rough skin of his across her bare back. They were cold, but she was warm, and somehow the sensations met in harmony and set a light that coursed between them, and through them, and sent the rest of the world flying out of perspective.
The winter melted away, Jorah melted away. Aegon, the North, her dragons, melted away, until it was just her and Jon, desperately pulling on ties and fabrics. She could hear the wind whistling outside; so much a storm like the room had become just a wall away, as they danced their way messily to his bed.
"Your grace." Jon breathed, flat on his back beneath her.
"My Lord" she whispered back, half a moan while his hands moved to her hips and though the movement was familiar, the steady rock of her hips and his, there was something else.
Something fiery that lanced the hairs straight on her arms with so much more than lust. She lost track of where she was, where the floor was, or the roof, or even herself. She had flown on the wings of a dragon and no experience but this had ever felt so near to that freedom. Being so close to Jon, letting him lace his hands in her hair and kiss her neck, like Drogo had done, and Daario, felt different. Like he freed her, just by being close. The pull she had felt, the thread, snapped all at once, and instead a thousand more leapt up to take its place.
Lying together after, while the sun rose higher into the sky and they both grew drowsy with wine, she closed her eyes and let the taste of relief wash over her tongue.