A/n: Y'all ain't ready for this shit.

I ain't even ready for this shit, and I wrote the damn thing.

JON

And he did-He came to her cabin that night, and the next night, and the night after that, and every night to come. They made love every night, and whispered promises in each other's ears, and their bond grew stronger and stronger by the day.

And every night she welcomed him with open arms, eagerly awaiting him.

During the day they made battle plans, and talked about armies and the dead, and they tried to avoid each other's eyes and stand as far apart as possible. She would watch him across the table, surly and serious, as he talked about what was to await them when they reached Winterfell, until he looked up and met her eyes. She would blush and his heart would soften for a moment before he steeled himself again and spoke of the ways the dead could be defeated.

It was chilly mid-day when they met above decks after a particularly grueling session where they had discussed the northern lords, and Tyrion had been strangely quiet. Marriage had yet to come up. Jon suspected he was waiting for something.

They were nearly three quarters of the way to White Harbor, and the mood on the ship had grown more tense the closer they got. Everyone knew what awaited them, and it made them somber.

But today was beautiful, and he couldn't stand to be cooped up any longer, so he'd gone above decks to breath the salty sea air and listen to the sea and watch the dragons.

He had spotted her at the bow, watching the dragons soar high above them, silver braid softly blowing in the wind. He watched her for a moment-just watched her. She wore her white fur coat she had worn beyond the wall-it had gotten so cold now that she'd needed it. The day was gray and cloudy and her hair glowed in the dimness like the sun had fled from behind the clouds and decided that is was to glow from her head, instead of the sky.

She was so beautiful.

He came up and stood beside her. She leaned closer, but they did not touch. He followed her gaze, watching the magnificent creatures circle high above them.

"They're beautiful," he said after a while. They more he had watched them, the more he had gotten over the fear and shock, the more in awe of them he grew. They truly were - beautiful creatures.

"Yes," she said. He looked at her. Her cheeks were wet.

"Are you alright?"

She sighed. Her lip trembled, but she stood strong.

"He's really gone," she said quietly. "Viserion. He's really gone."

Her voice tore at his heart like knives. He wanted to take her in his arms then and there, as if he could squeeze the grief right out of her.

But he couldn't.

"Oh, love," he whispered, so only the two of them could hear. "I'm so sorry."

She did not respond, but leaned into him, closing her eyes in pain. He wanted to comfort her so badly.

"I can't take back what's happened, but I will do everything in my power to never let it happen again."

Her eyes lowered.

The dragons roared above them, as if they could sense and share her pain.

"I could tell them apart, you know," she said softly. "From a thousand miles away, I could tell their cries apart. But I never noticed ...not until one was gone."

Her voice broke and fell.

Jon stood closer to her, so that his thick furs obscured their hands from view, and grasped hers tightly. She held onto his like it was her lifeline. They stood there together and just breathed, sharing her grief together, listening to the sound of the ship crashing against the waves, and the roar of her two beautiful dragons, watching them.

After a while she sniffed heavily, sighed. She looked at him, and a questioning look sprang onto her face.

"You never got to ride one, beyond the wall, did you? Everyone else but you."

Jon frowned.

"No, and it's one of my greatest regrets. What a privilege that would have been."

"Would you like to now?"

His face snapped to hers.

"What?"

She looked at him. A mischevious smile tugged at her lips.

"Jon Snow, will you do me the honor of going for a ride with me?"

His jaw dropped. He was speechless.

"I'll take that as a yes," she smiled. She looked up at her dragons. Closed her eyes.

They roared.

And they dived.

Jon watched in open-mouthed amazement.

"How...?"

Daenerys smiled mysteriously.

Drogon dived into the water close, arching a spray of sea water over them all, and the ship rocked heavily with the wave created. Jon heard a few soft screams of surprise, but they quickly faded as they realized what it was. Daenerys turned away from the bow and Jon followed her.

Drogon swam up very close to the side of the ship, and stretched out his wing, spraying the deck with water made hot by his scales.

It was only a very small step from the side of the deck to the crook of his wing, and Daenerys made the leap easily, walking like a nimble cat along her dragon's wing. Drogon held very steady for her. She stood on his back and turned to Jon.

"Coming, Jon Snow?"

Jon took a deep, steadying breath. He was no coward, but this made him unsure at best.

And, displaying great bravery and trust in the beast before him, stepped off the deck and onto the knuckle of Drogon's wing. Shakily and unsteadily, he made his way towards Daenerys, keeping his eyes fixed on where he was planting his feet. He didn't know how she made it look so easy.

When he reached the more or less solid position of Drogon's shoulder blades, he threw himself down heavily, clinging to Drogon's scales tightly. Daenerys sat neatly in front of him, and Drogon returned his wing to his body and paddled a distance away from the boat.

Daenerys looked over her shoulder at him.

"Are you ready, Jon Snow?" she asked him. He knew she would not go till he said so. He settled in deeper and closer to Dany, arms on either side of her, grabbing the tips of the webbed spikes tightly, like he had seen Daenerys do before, behind the ones she held, his legs gripping tightly like he would a horse, but with difficulty, as it's back was so much wider. Drogon flicked his skin in response, like a horse might as a fly landed on it's skin, throwing Jon off balance and scaring the shit out of him.

"There's no need to grip so tight," said Daenerys. "We won't let you fall."

Jon tried to relax.

"Ready?" she asked again. Jon jerkily nodded his head. He saw her smile, wide and true.

"Sōvēs!" shouted Daenerys, her voice rang high and true, and the dragon responded to her command.

Jon felt a jolt as the Drogon spread his wings and air rushed under them, heard the rush of wind and the spray of the salt sea, felt a heavy pull on himself, like he had suddenly become twice as heavy, as Drogon flapped again, and Jon couldn't help but cry out in surprise. And suddenly they were airborne, and the sea rushed beneath them.

His weight did not return to normal until another few flaps, and when he finally regained himself he felt himself trembling with adrenaline. They were flying.

"Woah," he managed to gasp out. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. He heard his Queen laugh, high and free, and they rose even higher.

And Jon felt himself begin to relax and enjoy it.

His heart was hammering as he felt the salty, icy wind at his face. He could breathe agian, really breathe. He'd never felt so...free.

"This is amazing!" he shouted over the wind.

Dany did not answer and for a second he feared she did not hear him, but he caught sight of a grin as she looked over Drogon's back to check their height.

"Hang on!' she shouted. Jon's eyes widened and he gripped tighter.

And she dived.

His heart lept into his throat as he suddenly felt weightless.

Her shouts of excitement rang in his ears and he felt a laugh work it's way up his throat.

Was this what it meant to be truly free?

Drogon roared.

Jon laughed, a true laugh such as he never had in his life, without restraint. His whole body shook with it as he screamed his freedom to the heavens and Daenerys's voice called out to match his.

This is how it's supposed to be.

It was the best feeling in the world.

Daenerys pulled Drogon up again and they were soaring, higher and higher above the sea. and when the air became thin, Daenerys turned Drogon and he pulled and dived and twisted. Jon felt weightless and free as they dived and then solid and heavy as he pulled up, as she took them for a real ride.

Jon had never enjoyed himself so much in his life. For the first time in his life, he felt all of his burdens lift, and he was free.

Jon looked down.

The ship was a tiny little speck. The coast, which he hadn't been able to see from the ship, now seemed so close to it, only a stone's throw, really. He could see tiny little people moving around on the ship, calling to each other, some of them with their heads tilted up, watching them fly. He couldn't make out who the faces belonged to.

"It seems we have an audience!" said Jon.

Daenerys looked down. A flicker of annoyance fled across her face, but it soon passed and she grinned, leaning back and meeting Jon's eyes with a mischievious glance.

"Well, let's give them a show, then," she said. She looked back at him. He grew nervous.

"Do you trust me, Jon Snow?" she asked. He looked into her eyes.

"Yes," he said softly. Daenerys smiled gently.

"Then hang on."

Jon gripped his spikes tighter and clenched his legs.

And they dived once more. The wind sped past them, rushing in Jon's ears and he was weightless once again. But Daenerys didn't pull up again. They dived, hard and fast. He heard her laughing and he knew she was about to do something unexpected. He braced himself.

"Daener-"

"DRACARYS!" she shouted.

Suddenly he was terrified. He ducked behind her, knowing she was immune, but acutely aware that he was not, and they were engulfed in hot flames as it rolled from Drogon's mouth into a giant fireball.

He felt the heat engulf him, and he cried out, expecting to smell at any moment the burning of his hair and skin and flesh.

But the flames did not touch him.

It rolled around them and over them, slipping over Drogon's wings like water, a barrier of protection created by the wind against Drogon's scales and broken by his neck and head. They burst through the flames and onto the other side, and he heard Drogon roar and echoes of screams from below as Drogon's wings stiffened, turning them upwards again into the sky.

"DID YOU KNOW THAT WOULDN'T KILL ME?" he shouted at her, aghast, his heart hammering.

She looked back and grinned.

"Daenerys," he screamed to the wind. She only laughed. and he let out the breath that had caught in his throat and began to laugh.

Gods, this woman, he thought, heart leaping.

She flew them high up into the sky again.

After a while the faces below lost interest and went back to whatever they were doing.

Jon felt himself relax again, heart rate returning to normal. He leaned into Daenerys.

There was a moment of calm, with only the wind whistling in his eyes and the wind at his face. He inhaled the thin, high air deeply. Daenerys leaned back into his chest, and he buried his face in her furs.

"Daenerys," he murmered into her ear, the closeness cutting out the sound of the wind. She nuzzled him gently. "Thank you."

He saw her smile softly.

"You are very welcome, Jon Snow."

"Gods, this is ... wonderful," he said.

Her face cleared and she blinked in the wind. He thought he felt a salty wetness spray his cheek from hers as she smiled, big and wide.

"Yes," she said simply.

Drogon continued to glide softly a distance.

"Do you want to fly him?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" he said in surprise, eyes widening. "I don't think I could-"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Daenerys, and she grasped onto a spike with one hand and slid from her seat, feet sturdy on Drogon's lower webbed spikes, and threw herself over Drogon, sitting behind him, and suddenly he was in charge. His heart hammered with nervousness.

Drogon's skin shook beneath Jon again, but it did not unseat him this time.

"Move forward," said Daenerys. "Or he won't know what you want him to do. Those are his most sensitive spikes in front of you."

Terrified, Jon scooted forward. It was a much more natural seat, as he was nestled in between his shoulders and his neck, and he could feel every movement of the muscle beneath him from here. If Drogon turned his neck, even a hair, he would feel it instantly.

"Do you feel him?" whispered Daenerys in his ear, she had moved up to sit right behind him, every part of her body touching him.

"Yes," breathed Jon, though his words were lost to the wind. He nodded.

"Good," she said, and wrapped her hands around his arms, guiding his movements. "Pull his spikes gently to the left."

Jon did as she commanded, and Drogon responded with a twitch of his neck, but he hardly turned.

"You have to connect with him," she said softly. "Feel him."

Jon reached out his hand to the hot scales.

"No, not like that," said Daenerys. she wrapped her arms around his chest and rested her hands over his heart. "In here."

Jon furrowed his eyebrows, confused. But he was determined. He closed his eyes.

He could feel every movement of the beast below him, his every deep breath, every flap of the wing. Every tiny little movement. Could feel the heat radiating off its scales beneath his thighs and felt the fire deep within it's belly. But there was...more.

Something primal.

Some heat deep within Jon, radiating from the animal below him, deep within his (Their?) soul, rose up, burned at him, clawed at his throat and set him on fire, but he did not burn. It boiled in his very veins. Burst at him with every beat of his heart...or was it the Dragons' hearts?

He felt them roar. Felt hearts thrum. Not just Drogon beneath him but Rhaegal off in the distance, and Daenerys behind him...and there was something missing...something...an icy, echoey ache that ran deeper than any cavern in the world. It burned, really burned, not like fire but like ice, and he recoiled, eyes snapping open, pulling back so quickly that Drogon flinched. Jon was breathing very heavy. His heart was hammering. The icy air of reality seeped in like a Winter blizzard. He suddenly felt very cold.

Daenerys was looking at him strangely.

"Jon...?" she said.

What in seven hells was that?

He couldn't talk. He could barely breathe.

"Did you...?" he knew he felt her there, knew she had felt him. "Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?" she asked.

"The Dragons..."

Her eyes cleared. She understood.

"I always feel them," she said. "Always."

And suddenly Jon understood.

"But that...that pain..."

Her lip trembled.

"Viserion," she whispered.

Jon wanted to howl.

"Gods," he said instead.

"I'm sorry Jon, I should have warned you. I didn't think you'd actually feel it so..."

She trailed off. She was looking at him oddly again.

Jon didn't like that look. It felt like she saw some part of him that he did not know existed.

He turned again to face forward. Drogon thrummed beneath him.

"Teach me how to fly this damn thing."

And so she did.

It took over an hour for him to feel like he had grasped the basics. It was more instinct than instruction, he learned. He didn't tell the dragon what to do. The dragon did what it wanted to do, Jon merely gave suggestions, and hopefully, Drogon would agree with where he wanted to go, or ... he would not.

"Zaldrīzes dohaeriros iksos daor," Daenerys told him. "A dragon is not a slave."

Jon fully began to respect that now.

"Nor is he a horse, who will simply go where you lead with a flick of the reins. That's why the connection is important," she explained. "With no connection, how can you truly explain your intent to him? Why should he listen if you do not tell him why he should do a thing in a way he understands?"

Jon thought he was begining to understand.

After Daenerys felt he had grasped the basics and had him go through the motions of turning, diving, and gaining altitude, she wrapped her arms around him and let him fly to his hearts content, resting her head on his back, breathing deeply, and Jon felt at peace.

He circled for sometime, then did figure eights, just trying to feel more at ease with Drogon and not stray too far from the ship, and the dragon was very patient with him, sometimes he would get snippy and resisitant, but Jon would reach out for the connection again, though as lightly as he could-he did not want to feel that ever-present pain-and Drogon would relax and follow his instruction, seeming to understand what he wanted on an instinctual level. When he felt more confident he felt he could attempt some of the twists and turns that Daenerys had displayed earlier, and felt himself soar. After he'd had his fun he leveled out over the sea, at an angle to the sunset so they could see without blinding Drogon, and coasted.

"You're really a very good teacher," he said to Daenerys after a while.

She raised her head. Reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you, Jon."

The sun had grown low in the sky, lighting up the gray clouds with a golden shimmer, and the sea with a bright golden light. Jon took a deep breath. He wanted to stay up here forever. But he knew they would be in trouble if they didn't return to the ship tonight.

He took a deep breath, letting Drogon glide where he wanted, leaning back into his beloved, who wrapped her arms tighter around him.

"I love you, Daenerys," he murmured.

"And I love you, Jon," she said softly.

"We should really go back at some point."

She raised her head. Sighed.

"Perhaps," she said, "Or perhaps we will stay up here until Drogon's wings tire, and we fall from the sky."

"I'd rather not risk that," said Jon with a laugh.

She sighed, though he sensed her smile.

"Oh, alright. Though I am not responsible for any tongue-lashings that will occur from our dear advisors."

"Oh, yes you are," he chuckled.

She gave him a soft swat.

"I am the Queen," she said commandingly.

Jon turned and kissed her nose. She looked like an angry wolf...but Jon was not afraid of her.

"Yes you are, dear."

She glared. Then a smile broke her face.

"It feels good to be carefree for once," she said, her voice growing serious. He sighed, nodding.

She squeezed him tight.

"Alright," she said after a long moment.

She scooched back, and Jon followed her. She repeated her movements from before in reverse, and she sat in front of him again. This time, he felt confident and secure enough on the Dragon's back to wrap his arms around Daenerys instead of gripping Drogon's spikes so tightly. He felt her relax in his arms.

They glided down slowly, as they watched the sun set and the sky grew dark. It grew slowly colder and colder, and Daenerys pulled her white coat tighter around her. Jon wrapped his furs around them both and he saw a single snowflake land in her silver-white hair as they approached the ship again.

"It's snowing," he said. She looked up, blinking as more flakes landed and melted on her cheeks.

Fear gripped him.

"Winter is coming," he accidentally breathed aloud, echoing the Stark words.

Reality came down with a hard crash. There was a tense silence.

"We will beat them," said Daenerys softly, as if she sensed his thoughts. "We must."

He held her tightly.

"If we don't-"

"We will," she said.

"If we don't-" he said over her, terror gripping his heart and speaking for him. I can't lose you. "I am taking you and running. We will go to Dragonstone with the Dragons and will not leave until the long night is over."

Her brow furrowed, troubled.

"Jon," she said delicately, "Oh, Jon. No."

She turned to him, letting go of Drogon. He continued to glide. She slid her leg over to turn completely around so she rode backwards to face him. She grabbed his face, looking fiercely into his eyes.

"Remember what Tyrion said. We cannot abandon our people. We fight or we die."

He knew that, he knew that...but...but...

"My honor is not more important that you."

Her face grew angry.

"Stop," she said. "Don't say that. Not ever again. I don't ever want to hear talk of running ever again, do you understand? We fight or we die."

Jon closed his eyes away from her piercing stare.

"This is too important, Jon."

It was so unlike Jon to say these things...but...his perspective had been changed so rapidly.

Love is the death of duty.

If the day should ever come where your lord father ever had to chose between honor on the one hand, and those he loves on the other, what would he chose?

He would do whatever was right.

He had been so sure of it then, so sure.

But he had never really understood.

You know nothing, Jon Snow.

He opened his eyes and looked into her violet ones.

What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty, against the feel of a newborn babe in your arms?

"I won't let anything happen to you," he said shakily.

"Jon," she said softly. A gentle warning. He was so lost already.

Then he kissed her, hard, desperate, as the snows fell around them.

A/n: whoops, I think I just broke Jon. GRRM would probably kill him off at this point, but I wouldn't dare. I'm so not in control of what they're doing. These dumb characters just took my idea and ran with it. What perfect assholes. I ONLY WANTED THEM TO FLY THE DAMN DRAGONS NOT BREAK MY FUCKING HEART. GODDAMMIT JON SNOW.