DAENERYS

Dany was dreading Winterfell.

Soon, they would reach the spot where the White Knife would meet the Kingsroad, and they would disembark. From there it was only a short day's ride to Winterfell.

The closer they got, the more Daenerys dreaded it.

Soon their time together, isolated and insulated against the rest of the world, would end as they left their little boat behind. Soon, they would meet the Northern Lords, and Jon's siblings, and the rest of the armies, and after that they would head to the wall and...

Dany didn't want to think about that.

The river had become more and more narrow as they continued, and the surrounding landscapes became a stranger to Daenerys. She had never been in this part of the country, and it was a strange land to her, all scaggly woods and tall trees and icy ground.

It was snowing almost everyday now, and they were lucky that the water had yet to freeze. Daenerys had donned a white and silver fur cloak that was similar to Jon's (But shorter, only brushing the back of her knees) around her shoulders in addition to her white coat to keep the cold from touching her ears and neck. Jon had kept teasing her about her pink ears and cheeks, but she had stubbornly refused to wear more clothing until recently.

"C-cold cannot kill a d-dragon," she had shivered determinedly. He had chuckled at her, and teased her mercilessly, until she supposed he finally couldn't stand it anymore and had draped the cloak around her, and she had become instantly so much warmer that she gave in and hadn't taken it off since.

"Winter is tough, my Queen," said Jon seriously. "You have to do whatever it takes to stay warm, or you'll die. That Includes wearing a cloak."

Daenerys had never seen a Winter, though she had been born at the close of the last one, during Robert's Rebellion. That Winter had been relatively mild, so she'd heard. She had also lived in warm climates her entire life, and cold was not something she was used to at all.

When she had gone to rescue Jon's party from beyond the Wall, Drogon's fire had kept her warm, though the places where his scales did not touch her had been significantly cooler, to the point where she had been shivering at the contrast. She had thought her white coat would have been enough to keep her warm when she'd left Dragonstone, but it was nowhere near enough. She was now begining to understand why Jon would always wear his furs even on a mild day...this was the kind of cold that chilled your bones and would not leave. She longed for a fireplace and a hot meal, and thick stone walls to keep in heat. Jon had told her that Winterfell would be like that. It was designed for Winter. To keep out the cold. To keep it's inhabiants alive.

She was happy she would finally be warm (maybe), but what awaited her there chilled her to the bone as well, and so when it was finally their last night on their little boat, and Jon visited her in her cabin, she spilled all her worries onto him.

He stroked her hair, which was loose, now, and held her.

"Don't worry, my Queen. They will see you for what you are, as I have. They will come to love you. Yes, even my sisters."

That was, oddly enough, the thing Daenerys was most worried about. What if Jon's sisters disliked her so much that they would fail to give their blessing for their eventual union and marriage? It wasn't like they needed it, she was Queen, and he was King, and no one could tell them what not to do, however...she was still worried they would hate her when Jon loved them so much.

Jon looked deep into her eyes.

"They will come to love you, as I have come to love you. And you will love them. Watch and see."

He kissed her forehead.

Dany snuggled in deeper to him. His skin was the only thing warm anymore to her. They were naked together, in bed. It was always the first thing he did when he came to visist in the middle of the night-he would strip his clothes, and hers, crawl beneath the sheets and heavy furs and press his body against hers until they both stopped shivering. Then he would kiss her, soundly, and she would feel heat return to her. Her fire, which had almost been snuffed out in the cold, would reawaken at his touch and rage once again.

He pulled her close. Pressed his forehead to hers.

"Everything will change the moment we step off this boat," she whispered.

He shushed her.

"No. I will still come to you every night. I will still love you. It will not be long then till we will marry, and we won't have to hide anymore."

"What if-" she started.

"No," he said harshly. "No what-if's-"

"What if," she said more forcefully. "What if we don't survive the war?"

Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I won't let that happen," he said fiercely. "We will survive. We will defeat them. And you will sit on the Iron Throne. And this world will change for the better. We will make it so."

"Together?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

"Aye. Together," he answered.

He kissed her, then, strong and deep. And she felt like no threats in the world could tear their promises apart.

Suddenly, she became very needy, pushing into his lips with her tongue, craving him, craving every part of him. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, and he winced as she accidentely pulled at his almost-healed shoulder.

"Sorry," she whispered as he winced slightly, and moved her hands to his waist instead, needing to feel every part of him. He wasn't close enough, not close enough.

"Daenerys," he murmured, pulling away and pressing a thumb onto her lips. "Relax, my love."

She pulled away, trembling. His eyes softened. He pulled her closer.

"My Queen," he murmured. She softened as he held her tightly. "Do you not believe me?"

"I'm not sure of anything in this world anymore," she said, eyes closed in pain.

His fingers brushed her chin, raised it.

"Look at me," he said softly. She opened her eyes, and her violet ones met his beautiful brown ones. She could get lost in those eyes. They saw straight into her soul. "Be sure of me. Be sure of us. Trust this."

She wanted to close her eyes away from his but he shifted his hand on her jaw, and her eyes flicked to his once more.

"Trust us," he begged of her. "Trust me."

And she remembered that she did, and her worries faded away in the intensity of his gaze.

"I do," she breathed.

And he kissed her again, but very, very gently, guiding her back to him, a long, slow burn.

She felt his hardness press into her thigh as their kiss deepened, grew more intense, and she parted her legs.

He slid easily between them, and she felt the tip of his cock brush her lips. Instantly her whole body awakened with a shock, and she wrapped her legs around him, inserting him into herself firmly.

He grunted, and she tilted her hips into his pelvis, forcing him deeper.

He kissed her neck and she buried her nose behind his ear, kissing the soft skin there. They began to move, softly and slowly, and she felt herself become wetter and softer with every stroke. She mewed into his ear, and he groaned, slamming himself as deep into her as he could and holding, making her whine with need as he pressed up against her deep ache. Her nails scratched at his back and he moaned deeply again.

He split his legs, so that his balls swung free and he could get better access, and began to pound into her, hard, his soft balls hitting her lips and the very sensitive anus below that, and she felt it tighten in pleasure. She wondered what it would feel like to have his member in there.

She couldn't breathe at the thought...what stimulation she was getting from what he was doing was enough to give her a rough idea...enough to let her imagination wander, and as she thought about him pounding deep into her there, her anus tightened in response, and made it all the more pleasurable to have him moving in and out of her slick wet hole, and when she came, she felt it pulse deep withing both parts of her, and he was soon to follow, burying himself so deep in her that his balls were pressed up against her, almost inside her...and she felt his seed hit her wall, filling her up totally and completely, and she felt a rush of contentment.

He held her tightly, not wanting to let her go. She kissed up and down the length of his neck and shoulder, holding him tight to her, burying her fingers in his hair. He slid his arms under her, and wrapped them tight around her. She squeezed his length with her walls. He twitched in response.

"I love you," she whispered in his ear, "ñuhi zolka prūmia."

He pulled back to look in her eyes, brushed a stray blonde wisp from her cheek.

"And I you," he said softly, "ñuhi zaldrīzes gīs."

Dragon of my Soul.

She melted, utterly and completely, cupped his face, tears springing to her eyes. His lessons with Missandei seemed to be paying off.

"Oh, my King," she whispered, and kissed him firmly.

They made love twice more before falling asleep in each other's arms.

Daenerys was ripped abruptly from sleep with a knock at the door. She looked outside. It was still dark.

Who would call on her this late at night, other than Jon?

She turned to him. He had awoken as well.

"Who is it?" he muttered sleepily. She shook her head, confused. She rose from bed, and felt some of his three loads of seed slip from her and slide down her legs. She blushed, feeling aroused once more, and quickly put on a light robe. She opened the door a hair.

It was Varys, who looked very concerned.

"What-" she started, but he brushed past her, entering the priviacy of their room without invitation, ignoring their nakedness, and closed the door firmly behind him. His eyes flickered onto Jon. He did not seem surprised to see him there.

"It's good you're here as well," he said, voice anxious.

"Varys, this is untoward," she said, angry. "You enter without invitation."

"Forgive me, my Queen. This is urgent."

The Eunuch seemed very nervous. She had never seen the man look so flustered. He began pacing up and down the length of the window as Daenerys sat back down, angry, but tempered. Jon sat up, being careful to cover himself with the bedclothes.

"What is it, Varys?" asked Jon. He seemed much calmer than she felt.

Varys hesitated. Stood still once more. He looked between both of them. Held up a ravenscroll. It was sealed with a black wax seal, and Daenerys spotted the symbol of a crow.

Jon stood up, modesty forgotten, and snatched it out of Varys' hand. He opened it, hands shaking. His mouth fell open. His eyes grew wide, and his breathing quickened. His hand reached out, fumbling for the window seal and support. The scroll fell from his hand and fluttered onto the floor.

"What is it?" she said, suddenly very fearful.

Varys turned to her. The man looked more scared than she'd ever seen him, but the voice that slipped from the spider's tongue was so terrifyingly calm.

"The Wall has fallen."