A/N: I'll keep this short and sweet: Thank you all for our favourites, follows and reviews! I never expected this fic to reach the number of people it has so thank you for sticking with it. If there's anything you want to discuss with me, or something you'd like to say and would rather do so privately, you can message me on tumblr: .com, or if you just fancy talking ASOIAF/Game of Thrones. Thanks again, and enjoy!

Jon dreamed of a night full of grassy rolls and the hammering of feet. He'd had the dream before, or at least the scape was somewhat familiar. It took his subconscious a moment of wandering to discover from where he knew it, and when it did he went tumbling off a precipice of pain.

He cried out, bolting upright in the dark room. It was still daylight, or the grey version of it that had recently become the norm. The sweat on his skin attracted the cool air to his body and made him shiver. The hammering he now knew was coming from his head, a combination of dehydration and a lack of food. When he felt a hand on his arm, a delicate presence at his side, he relaxed. As much as he could, with the image of the rising ground still alive in his vision.

It wasn't a dream, he thought, it happened. She's here.

Jon closed his eyes and shook the image away as best he could with the palm of his hand. Slowly, he sank back to the bed.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing" he replied "just a dream."

"A night terror from this view." She said, voice full of concern. Jon turned his head to look at her, wary of the way she would look in this light; that he would wish to take the action back. Even worse, that she would.

Her features were soft however, hair spread out beneath her head. He couldn't remember her pulling it loose, but he also didn't remember losing his clothes.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked, closing his eyes again.

"Not long. I was about to wake you, we have things to discuss."

His eyes flickered open, and he looked across at her warily. She smiled at his expression "about Ser Jorah. He cannot stay."

"You would send him away?" Jon asked, shifting onto his side. Her calm demeanour in turn calmed him, and gave him the courage to face her properly.

"We cannot have him lingering. Not after this." She reached up and stroked his cheek with the back of her finger. Jon sighed. "We have other things to look to."

"Such as?"

"Such as what we plan to do now. About your sister."

Jon frowned, "we?" he asked, and Dany looked away. Jon took the chance to dress himself again. When he seated himself to pull on his boots Dany's hand came to rest on his bare back. He froze at the movement, the odd warmth that permeated his skin and spread outwards like roots embedding themselves into his spine. He shivered again, but not from the cold.

"I need to tell you why I'm here."

"You have already told me why you are here." He moved out of her reach and pulled an undershirt over his head. She continued to speak as he tucked it in, reluctant to turn again.

"I told you…yes I told you why I was sent here. But that's – that is not why I am here."

Jon paused, plucking up the courage to turn and face her. She had pulled the sheet up to cover her chest and it struck him how invulnerable she looked in a position of completely vulnerability. Even with her hair mussed, body naked and limbs relaxed, she still held the authority. Or perhaps Jon was just wont to see it there. Like many other aspects of their relationship, he couldn't quite explain it.

"I don't understand" was his reply. She broke his gaze and turned to pulling on her own clothes. A dress, a belt. She moved around to his place by the window bare footed, feet making a soft hissing sound as they caught the rushes scattered in her path. It was almost as if she was floating towards him, skin bright and eyes piercing. Even if they invited him in, they still posed a threat, a silent warning. He hoped he would never be on the judging side of those eyes.

Dany took his hand in her own and kissed it, looking up at him carefully. When she seemed ready to talk, she dropped his hand and clasped her own together.

"I heard a rumour." She began, backing towards the bed and sinking onto it. "told just like a story. I do not think the teller believed it held any truth. He intended it as entertainment I supposed, like any conspiracy."

Conspiracy, Jon thought, confused, what is she talking about?

"…wasn't one to believe the whispers of others but then I remembered that once, I was a whisper, just a flutter of a half truth moving from Pentos merchant to Westerosi Lord. That whisper held truth." Her eyes searched the ground in front of her, as if she were struggling. Growing increasingly anxious, Jon walked over to the centre of the room and poured himself a cup of stale water. He took a large sip, and braced his hand against the table. "Did that whisper reach you here?"

Jon shook his head and replaced his hand with his backside, leaning as heavily as he could against its surface. Daenerys slipped across to the other side of the bed so she was facing him. "We heard that there may be a Targaryen left wandering Essos, but nothing of that extent. We still believed Maester Aemon to be the last of his house."

Dany smiled, "you knew him well?" she asked.

"Very well. Or rather, he knew me. I always thought he knew me better than I knew myself."

"It is like that sometimes, with people who are close to you." Though his eyes remained on the floor, Jon could feel Dany searching his face, under the curious tone she had laid subtly upon her voice. Jon shifted, still feeling uneasy despite her smile. "I am sad you did not get chance to meet him." he said finally, trying to disperse the tension. The princess' smile turned sad, and then disappeared altogether.

"I wish he was here to advise me. I feel like all those who I trusted have abandoned me."

Jon's brow furrowed and disregarding his earlier unease he set his cup down and moved in next to her, taking a hand from her lap.

"You can trust me." He said, "you saved my life, and I owe you for it."

"The Red Woman saved your life." Dany corrected.

"And I would have starved had you not arrived." he assured her, "I do not have much to give anymore, I do not have an army, or a castle, but you have my loyalty."

Dany looked up to meet his eyes, and for half a moment Jon thought she was going to kiss him. Instead, she swallowed and took a deep breath. "The rumour. It was about you." Jon pulled back ever so slightly, narrowing his eyes.. "about your father."

"Lord Stark?" he said, caught even further off guard.

She made a small shake of the head.

Jon swallowed. "Wh-what do you mean?"

Her fingers gripped his own tightly, as if she were nervous, and just like her calm expression had done the same for him earlier, the wariness written across it now was enough to drop a brick into the pit of his stomach. She continued, straightening her features into something that resembled assurance.

"Lord Eddard Stark had a sister."

"Lyanna. She died before I was born."

"No." Dany continued, "After. Just after."

Jon shook his head, understanding creeping up on him. "She was dying. There were Kingsguard there, at the Tower of Joy. They said he killed her, Rhaegar, he kidnapped her and killed her." His voice was creeping up in volume as his mind fought against the theory.

"My brother was long gone before Eddard Stark arrived in Dorne. He was defeated before. Your…Lyanna Stark was killed by something else."

She stopped then, waited for him to come to her, but he refused, and the refusal held his world above him like a pillar. If he were to cave, consider the rumour, then the pillar would crumble, and everything he had built himself on, his status, his illegitimacy. The way he had been viewed his entire life, had been a lie. And he could not believe Eddard Stark would lie at his own cost…

…but at the cost of his sister? How often had it been said that to sire a bastard son had not been in Ned Stark's nature? Jon took his hands from the princess, stood up suddenly and began to pace. He stopped after raking the floor for four or five turns and faced the princess.

"If what you say is true then I am still a bastard. What would you gain from coming here for a bastard?"

"Not a bastard" Dany explained, "I wasn't finished. It is said that my brother married her, in the Tower of joy, and left her pregnant, intending to return."

"But he was killed at the Trident" Jon supplied, defiance slowly seeping from his body. It made no sense, and it made the most sense than anything ever had. It was all falling into place, the pillar was crumbling, and Jon began to panic. He sank into a chair and shoved his face into his hands. After a moment, he looked up at her again. She was stood now, just a few feet away, close enough that he had to strain his neck to see her face. "I still do not understand why you would come here."

She looked sad as she bent her knees and crouched in front of him. "I came here because you had nothing, and neither did I. But together-"

"Together we still have nothing" he interceded "I am still younger than Aegon, you are still only his aunt." Dany chewed her lip, resting her head lightly against his knee.

"I just want what is mine." She said softly, and Jon sat a little straighter. "Although I am not sure what that is anymore. I spent my life wandering, and my only home was snatched out from underneath me. You forfeited your house by choice, I lost mine by fate."

A minute passed in silence, while Jon took breath after breath to calm his mind, and Dany comforted him with soft strokes up and down his calf. He thought of his sister, who may actually be his cousin. He thought about his father, who may not be his father, his brother who was no longer a brother. Half of him wished, like Robb, he had taken the former knowledge with him to his grave. He may have nothing, but having nothing had made him who he was. Now he had something, something he could use. Something that would give him a way out. comfort, warmth, safety. And Daenerys…

"Sansa." he said suddenly, the confusion clearing away to reveal intent. Dany raised her head to look at him. "I need to see my sister."

"Jon-"

"No." he stood up, striding over to the rest of his clothes and reaching for his jerkin. "Perhaps I can talk to her, convince her to treat with the king. When she hears about this she might…she might reconsider."

He buckled his sword belt quickly, and it wasn't until he was reaching for Longclaw that he felt hands on his waist, stilling him. He turned slowly, letting Dany catch his lips in a kiss. It was soft and pleading. "Please don't leave me." She whispered. Jon held back the grunt of frustration and pulled her closer, kissing her again.

"I have to." He said finally, letting her go. He extracted himself from her grip and swung his cloak around his shoulders. It was heavy, and smelled of a different time, but the weight grounded him, pressing the whispers and rumours out of his mind and settling it into calm motive.

"Jon please. Wait. We can go together."

"I can't" Jon groaned at the door, desperation riding high in his blood. "She is my family. She is all that I have and I cannot let her do this." He swallowed. I need, I need… "I need to keep her safe. There comes a time when you have to stop believing what you think is meant to be, and take hold of your responsibilities. This is mine, my family is my responsibility. I abandoned them once; I am not doing it again."

Daenerys face relaxed into something almost like understanding, but she stood too straight, her face was too still. "You cannot protect everyone Jon" was her simple reply. The brick in his stomach grew in weight again and pushing the desperation aside, he surged forward and kissed her again. This time it was sharp, like it had been with Ygritte, but it was sharp with the taste of fear, not guilt and passion. It was like half of his body wanted to leave itself behind and keep her safe too. She had her hands around his neck when he pulled back.

"You will be safe here, I promise. This is the safest place to be. Your dragons will keep you safe."

"And who will keep you safe?" she asked. The corner of his lip turned into a slight smile.

"Ghost." He said, and pulled himself away from her for the last time. He did not turn back again when he reached the door and sped down the tower's steps. The yard was empty, and the snow had stopped, almost miraculously. He saddled a horse quickly, the one that looked the best kept. He knew he wasn't going to get a fresh one before he reached Winterfell.

He struggled with the gates, shoving and heaving against the snow until it opened wide enough for his horse to slip through.

"Jon!" a voice called out. His head snapped to its source and he saw the princess running out towards him. He paused, tightening his grip on the horse's reins. It stamped about for a moment, before Daenerys reached him. She held out a small wooden figure. A dragon. He held it delicately in his hand. "Remember you have me. If all goes…remember you still have me. You have your family." She said, pulled the furs closer around her body.

Jon reached out and let her take his hand, kissing it once before letting it go. His horse began to move, but his gaze did not. "I am your family now, but what if Sansa fights? Who will be your family then?"

Daenerys shook her head "then family will mean nothing to me. Only you. I have to believe something brought me to the end of the world Jon Snow, and if not you, then what?"

Jon watched her for a few more moments, letting her words sink in, and then he dug his heels into the mare and charged off into the white road beyond.