Daenerys Targaryen II

Out of all the Houses in Westeros, Jon's best friend had to be a Tarly!

For a second time, she found herself running away from him. She maintained her regality as best she could until crossing the threshold of the ship's main hall then hurried towards the stairs leading to the upper deck.

She was startled when she almost bumped into Missandei who was on her way back from Daenerys's cabin where she had gone to fetch her some extra furs for her shoulders as a shiver gave her goosebumps earlier – not knowing if it was a result of the food settling in her stomach or a reaction to the glances she and Jon had been stealing at each other all night long.

She steadied herself then Missandei walked behind her and placed the furs on her Queen's shoulders. She brought up her right hand and squeezed Missandei's saying in a little more than a whisper: "Thank you, my friend". She straightened her back and walked on bracing herself for the cold outside while Missandei turned back to the main hall where she would try to look for answers to what was troubling her Queen.

Daenerys went straight to the ship's bow where a few weeks earlier she had stood to process the life changing event that was the mission beyond the Wall; the Army of the Dead was real, the Night King was real, Viserion was lost, and Jon lay unconscious in his cabin half frozen to death – and those scars!

She was trying to put it all together when Ser Jorah had approached her: "You should rest, Khaleesi".

She had turned her head to her oldest friend and advisor only to have the words stuck in her throat. She knew the Old Bear loved her long before he admitted it to her, even long before Tyrion had told her he suspected it. His eyes had always betrayed him.

Jorah knew it would never be reciprocated and had just been standing vigil atop the Wall with her as she longed for another. She could not hurt him further by openly admitting her feelings for Jon. The tears were starting to well up in her eyes and so she turned her head back and looked down at the waves crashing against the ship.

With all the years he had been at her side witnessing her great many losses and triumphs, Jorah knew her best. And so, he had tried to comfort her: "He'll wake up".

She had almost chocked asking: "Will he?" Drogo didn't wake up, not really. And then, she had been forced to end his life with her own hands.

"Yes," Jorah had assured her, "because he's worthy".

And Jon was indeed worthy. A man so determined on saving his people, he traveled South against sound counsel, refused to yield to a woman who could easily kill him, worked tirelessly to find his precious dragonglass, did not hesitate to be on the front lines of this battle for survival, and was willing to give up his life for his cause – or had he already?

She, on the other hand, was not worthy. Especially, not worthy of him. She had asked Jon in their first meeting in her throne room at Dragonstone not to judge her by the sins of her father the Mad King. But, here she stood having committed her own sins – a Mad Queen.

"Your Grace," it was Tyrion.

She realized when she heard his voice that she had been squeezing the ship's railing in frustration. She did not turn around; but, said – referring back to their first conversation as ruler and advisor – with a soft sadness: "Turns out I'm the wrong kind of terrible, after all".

"That's not true," Tyrion took a step towards her.

She turned to face him barely keeping the tears at bay: "I killed that man's family!"

He tried to calm her with her own reasoning: "You took a decision in the moment. The Tarly's sided with Cersei betraying their own liege lords".

She snapped at him: "Now you agree with me?"

He used his most comforting counseling voice: "We only learn from our mistakes. Actions have consequences. Good ones and bad".

But, these were not just bad consequences; they were catastrophic. What will Jon think of her? Will it break their newfound trust? Will it endanger the alliance upon which the very survival of the realm now depended?

She all but exploded: "Did you not hear what was said? That man has been fighting the true enemy for years. He saved Ser Jorah from oblivion. If it weren't for him, Jon would have never come to me".

"So, it's just Jon now?" Tyrion's tone was almost mocking.

Fire flashed in her lilac eyes: "Now is not the time to discuss this".

Tyrion pushed on though: "But, it is. When it comes to him, you are impulsive".

Oh no, he didn't just use that word again.

Her face turned to stone. "That'll be all, Lord Tyrion," she said with affirmative regality and turned her back on him as a dismissal.

Daenerys could hear her dragons screeching in the distance. She closed her eyes and reached out to them in her mind. She felt their pain – Rhaegal's especially. He had been locked up in Mereen with Viserion and so they had become closer than either of them had been with Drogon. She got through to Drogon first; as his rider, her connection with him was always strongest. Rhaegal, however, was resisting her and only began to calm just as she heard footsteps approaching.

She turned back around, this time determined to scold her Hand: "Tyrion, I told you…". Only it was not Tyrion. She trailed off as she saw the man she had just run from.

"Jon…," she mouthed his name in a whisper he did not hear.

"What troubles you, my Queen?" He was genuinely worried.

She could not face him. She looked around them. All she could see was darkness. The sea was dark. The sky was dark. Even the moon was hiding behind heavy clouds.

He pressed her: "Is it that Gendry business?"

Ever since she had learned from Ser Barriston Selmy the truth about her father, she was determined to separate herself from the image everyone had of Aerys Targaryen. She had often been called the Mad King's daughter as an insult and did not wish that sort of prejudice on anyone. Now, she had to look straight at Jon to make sure he understood how sincere she is about it. "No," Daenerys said in the soft voice, which in this moment she realized was reserved solely for Jon.

He took two wide strides to close the distance between them like he did in the Dragonpit, pleading with his big grey eyes that she confides in him. His look broke through her barriers as it has been doing since he awoke from his injuries beyond the Wall and found her at his bedside.

She turned back around unable to tell him to his face: "After the Battle of the Blackwater Rush, I gave Cersei's remaining forces a choice; bend the knee or die". She felt him move even closer now, standing next to the railing looking at her profile as she continued: "Lord Randyll Tarly and his son Dickon were among them. The only ones who refused," she paused, "I executed them".

He did not say anything in response. She feared the worst and turned to look at him only to find his eyes unwavering. "I burnt them alive, Jon," she exclaimed as if telling him I don't deserve for you to look upon me so.

Now, it was his turn to tell her a story: "On the morning of Sam's eighteenth name day, his lord father summoned him and told him that he was not worthy of his lands and title. And that if Sam were not to ride North that day to take the Black and renounce his birthright, his father would arrange for a hunt from which he would never return".

"They're still his family," she exclaimed.

He took a deep breath, then asked her: "Do you remember what you said on the cliffs when you came back from the battle?" She gulped. He continued: "Sometimes, strength is terrible".

Seven Hells.

She closed her eyes to stop tears from rushing down her face.

And then, he opened up to her for only the second time since they met: "I once hanged a boy at the Night's Watch".

She opened her eyes again, now in shock and asked: "What had he done?"

His response was simple and plain: "He and a few others murdered their Lord Commander".

But, he was the Lord Commander. A chill crept down her spine. She started piecing it all together. Ser Davos's words in the throne room. Jon's evasiveness when she inquired. His scars. And now this.

She steadied herself leaning her left hand on the railing while her right hand crept up his chest to rest on the left direwolf sigil decorating his steel armor underneath which she knew the worst of the scars resided.

"A knife to the heart for your people…". And then the tears came rushing.

His hands reached out to her from underneath his heavy cloak. His left held her waist while his right wiped the tears off her cheeks. His bare touch ignited a warmth in her heart that quickly shot through her entire body. His eyes went from hers to her trembling lips.

There's no point in resisting this anymore.

She looked at his lips and brought her left hand with which she was leaning on the railing up to the back of his neck. Jon did not wait for her to bring his head down to meet hers. He crashed his lips to hers and flood gates of passion opened for them both.

They quickly parted their lips to give way to their battling tongues and just as he was backing her against the ship's railing, Rhaegal stormed through the sky and flew over the Silver Queen stern to bow.

He eased the tight grip of his left hand on her waist while his right was now tangled in her braids. They looked upon each other heavily breathing at first and calmed down as she was starting to notice a commotion among the crew members at the stern.

She slipped out of his embrace but not before her right hand traced playfully at a diagonal from his steel armor to his right abdomen and into his hand for a fleeting moment. He turned around following her. Her back was now to him but her hand trailed behind her in his. She turned just her head and smiled cheekily. And with a feather like touch, she slipped her hand away and gracefully walked back down below deck leaving him in awe.