A/N: Longclaw: Hi. This got out a little sooner than normal. Long chapter too, along with the juicy bits of Jonerys finally happening.

Bruh: Hello friends, some more content for you. I can specifically say it's something you've been wanting for quite some time.

You'll know it when you see it

Enjoy.

Chapter 48: Take me Before I Die of Thirst

"I ought to petition a grievance against you, your Grace."

Through the looking glass, Dany eyed Missandei with a raised eyebrow. "Oh? Whatever for would you do that?" Her tone was teasing.

Missandei's smirk indicated she was teasing as well - sort of like the sister she had never had. It was quite welcome for such a stable, warm relationship in the middle of the hells that was the life of Queen Daenerys Targaryen. "Not much… simply that the Queen's incessant need to abscond on Drogon two to three times a day has left me the back-breaking labor to repair the damage to her styled locks." With a brush, she tugged at Daenerys' silver hair for good measure, the knots and wild cowlicks emphasizing her point.

"You dare suggest that a daughter of House Targaryen refuse to ride her dragon?" Even though it was all in just, the mere thought of it brought Daenerys a twinge of agony. I pity my ancestors after the Dance, never to know the feeling of a bond with the symbol of our house. She could never give it up.

"I wouldn't dare suggest such a thing, your Grace… I simply ask that you wear a tight braid while you ride. Makes it less problematic for me."

A sigh, followed by a tiny grin. "Perhaps I shall. Wouldn't want you to suffer needlessly." These moments helped sustain Daenerys - when she could be the young woman that she was rather than a proud Queen or powerful conqueror that she was forced to be most of the time.

But these were only moments, fleeting and rare. The opening door revealed the latest intruder of her serenity. "Your Grace." Finally arriving from Oldtown, the beautiful figure of Lynesse Hightower curtseyed. She was slender and graceful with a pretty face - Daenerys was not shocked as to why Jorah had fallen so thoroughly for her. Dany expected to hate her for that, but she was competent at her responsibilities so earned respect. "Lord Tyrion wishes to speak with you."

Looking at Missandei through the looking glass, her handmaiden and translator gave Dany a sympathetic look. Tyrion was capable - on matters not involving war - but could be tedious at times. "Send him in," Dany finally said. "I'll meet with Lord Tyrion." It could be important.

Entering in on his short legs, Tyrion bowed, a gesture Daenerys accepted and bid him to rise. "Your Grace, Varys, and I would've waited for the council meeting this afternoon but this couldn't wait another moment."

Raising her brow, Daenerys didn't react. "Good tidings, or disaster?"

Tyrion shrugged. "It could be thought of as both, depending on the context and background one wishes to ascribe to the facts that we have…"

"Stop speaking in riddles, Lord Tyrion." The sudden bark came from, shockingly enough, Missandei. "It's getting rather irritating for me, and I am sure her Grace feels the same way."

Blinking, eyes widening… after a moment Tyrion chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of drawing the ire of the beautiful Lady Missandei." Enduring glares from Missandei and now Daenerys, he wisely abandoned the cheeky quips and shifted into business. "Varys' little birds have been disrupted due to the gutting of King's Landing." Thinking on it made Dany shudder, a cold shiver coursing through her. It was what her father had tried to do, and even though she wasn't in any way involved it still weighed on her… all those deaths because she hadn't gone after Cersei Lannister when she had the chance.

She forced herself away from the thoughts. "What do they say?"

"Firstly, we have a reason why Arianne has halted her armies south of the Boneway - Stannis has young Tyene Sand as his hostage. She's being held in the Maidenvault of the Red Keep."

"Tyene lived?" Theon was certain all the Sand Snakes had died alongside Yara and Ellaria - the Ironborn attack on Sunspear was a great defeat for her cause, and would've been a disaster had Arianne not been amenable to renewing their alliance. "While I am glad for that, her presence as Stannis' hostage bodes ominously for us." She needed Arianne's armies, if not militarily then for the purposes of propaganda, another Westerosi force allied to her.

"No, it does not, though Arianne won't turn on us simply because Stannis has her - at the worst, it ensures her neutrality."

She narrowed her eyes. "Is that all, Tyrion? Because I can deduce that one of my allies being imprisoned by the usurper's brother cannot be construed as good tidings as you promised."

He shook his head. "I wanted to get that out of the way since the next matter will consume your entire mind." Looking at her confusion at that, Tyrion knew she wouldn't be confused from what she said next. "Jon Stark has been released from the Black Cells. He's on a ship to Dragonstone as we speak."

Missandei gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, staring at Tyrion for a moment before her gaze drifted to Daenerys - concerned as to what her reaction could be. For the Queen, a vast panoply of emotions crossed her face. Confusion gave way to surprise, which gave way to elation, which gave way to a dreamy, loving smile. "Oh thank the gods above…" She never prayed, not truly, but for this blessing, she'd consider believing in some sort of deity. "Jon is coming back, just like he promised."

Tyrion frowned. "While I am glad Lord Stark is safe from the hangman's noose, executioner's block, or the stake, this isn't good news."

Her reaction was hostile. "My Jon is returning to me." Neither he nor Missandei missed her possessive reference to his name. "This is cause for celebration, and you insult me by treating it otherwise."

"I learned long ago never to insult someone that commands three dragons." She rolled her eyes, but ultimately the quips and witty remarks came with Tyrion's sharp mind. Something Dany just had to deal with. "But you must realize, Jon didn't escape. He was released by Stannis."

While she would never grow upset that the man she had come to love was finally returning to her, the elation faltered. "Stannis released him? To me?"

Even Missandei - ever the most supporting of Daenerys' love for Jon - had to concede the concerns this brought up. "I have not had the misfortune of meeting Stannis Baratheon, but he does not seem to be the sort of man that would forgive a slight… let alone release his most important hostage to his mortal enemy."

"Varys and I agree with such a conclusion, my Lady." He fished out a scroll from inside his vest. "This is the official correspondence from the Red Keep, informing us of what is to take place." Daenerys took the scroll and unfurled it - reading quickly.

Queen Daenerys Targaryen of Meereen,

Considering you are the last one standing against King Stannis Baratheon, First of his Name, I write to you to implore your sense of reason and compassion. This war has dragged on far too long and there is a greater one looming that the one true King is eager to fight.

Therefore, I am sending an envoy directed to speak for his Grace in order to reach an accord between yourself and the one true King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Petyr Baelish

Hand of the King

Dany sighed deeply. "He has the decency to refer to me as Queen, but of Meereen."

"It shows some sort of compromise, letting you have your lands in Essos." Her glare quieted him down on that. "It doesn't say it directly, but Varys is certain that the envoy is Jon Stark… and that would mean he reconciled with Stannis." With a wince, Tyrion grew closer and placed a hand atop Dany's, which rested on her knee as she sat stone-faced. "Considering this, we have to entertain the possibility that Lord Stark switched sides."

Her head shook violently side to side. "No, I'll never believe that." Not Jon… the man whom she loved and was sure loved her back… He promised her after all…

"I don't wish to believe it either, your Grace, but he served Stannis before… and ably I might add."

"If you're suggesting we kill him, then I point to you the fate of Daario Naharis," Missandei interjected. She had her own concerns, but wouldn't voice them unless to the Queen in private - or Grey Worm in private. He may have been a simple soldier, but his instincts were good.

He had said long before of how he wished to die, with a cup of mead at his lips and a woman's warm mouth around his cock. That hadn't changed one bit. "No, I would never suggest killing him - at least again. Just… be cautious around him, my Queen. He may be yours still, and yet he may not be. I advise that we try our best efforts at peace and I am certain he will be a diligent and good-faith negotiator but do not draw him in too close."

Between Missy's concern and Tyrion's insistence, Daenerys felt overwhelmed at it all. Eyes shut, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, she abruptly stood and walked to the window. "Leave me, I wish to be alone."

"Your Grace…"

"Now!"

"Of course." Missandei curtseyed and walked to the door. "I'll be outside if you need me. Lord Tyrion?" Her frown left no room for argument that he was to see himself out. Tyrion made no protest, only looking warily at the Queen.

Finally, alone, Dany trembled from fear and apprehension. Her eyes slowly opened and stared at Blackwater Bay before her. Somewhere out there was Jon, and he brought with him either love or heartbreak - there could only be two.

Somehow, not knowing was worse than the latter.

For good or for ill, soon she'd know the truth, and it seemed to steady Daenerys for what was to come.

It wasn't Duskendale, but it would have to do.

Hood draped over his head and stump hidden underneath the cloak for posterity's sake, Jaime tried his best to look like he belonged in the tiny village along the Dusken River. A few hundred lived here, which surprised him until he realized that this was rather close to the port city that Daenerys had taken rather early after her arrival in Westeros. Unlike many in the wars that raged across the continent since Robert's death, this town was spared.

If only others had been so lucky.

Looking about, his options were quite limited after he fled from the clutches of Arya Stark. Jaime had nothing but the clothes on his back and his wits - for a moment he regretted parting with his gold hand… but it would've drawn more attention to him than it was worth. A bag of gold dragons would've been less conspicuous…

And yet he had no coin. An unguarded barn about a few miles away had provided a small gourd of wine and a handful of apples to sate his thirst and hunger - not completely, but better than nothing. However, it was just a temporary solution. He needed to get to Duskendale and to do that without being vulnerable required a horse, a weapon, and a modest amount of coin.

Stealing from the villagers, all of whom looked to be simply minding their own business and concerned mostly with the drudgery of their shit lives, was a bad way to start his newfound quest to reclaim his knightly oaths. What choice do I have though?

Ironically, often the gods chose a path. Suddenly, a slosh of liquid crashed upon his cloak, soaking through it to his hair. "Fuck!" For a moment he worried it was urine. But the smell was of lye rather… a washerwoman, emptying her bucket out of her window. Ripping down his hood, Jaime cursed under his breath.

"You, halt!"

Jaime's knowledge of Valyrian was horrible - Tywin had been fluent but didn't bother to teach his children - and Bastard Valyrian was mostly a lost cause. But Aerys had ranted in it often enough for him to pick up a few words and knew enough that this was not the time to bolt or fight. Fight… Even the thought made him laugh hysterically. No sword, no knife, not even a club, and he was without his hand.

When the armed men crossed the block of houses, they found him chortling, which caused some puzzlement. "You, golden man. Hands in the air!"

Those words were unknown, but from the gestures of the men, he got the idea quickly. Dark leather, spears, and shields… Unsullied. Daenerys Targaryen's best forces… Likely the only party in this entire mess that wouldn't see him dead immediately. Not like I have anywhere else to go…

One of the Unsullied, clearly the leader, knew some common tongue. "Who… you?" His voice was heavily accented, but Jaime could understand. "Act… like… noble…"

Nodding, perhaps Jaime did have that natural air of a highborn. There was no use - they'd probably kill him if he tried to seem like a common soldier and he had a sudden desire to seek out the Dragon Queen. "I am Ser Jaime Lannister."

Jaime, they likely never heard of, but they did know what 'Lannister' meant. From their wide eyes, he knew that he'd be meeting the Dragon Queen before too long.

His luck was beginning to turn. Well, if she didn't roast him alive on the spot.

Had a Dothraki patrol found him, he'd have been killed and his severed head presented to her.

But perhaps he had been too hasty… "He's the Kingslayer!" bellowed an old man with a bushy white beard. "Git him!"

"Kill the sisterfucker!" a woman yelled, along with more epithets as a crowd gathered. The Unsullied seemed paralyzed. Until a rider dressed in the armor of a knight arrived. He spoke something to them in High Valyrian. The Unsullied captain nodded. "Tie him up," he ordered in the common tongue, spearmen fanning out to keep the crowd at bay.

The treatment was rough regardless. Townsfolk jeering and tossing filth at the infamous Jaime Lannister, the Unsullied managed to haul him into a stone barn without touching off a lynch mob. He was bound to a chair… not a comfortable one, made to sit there for what seemed like hours. At least he wasn't gagged - Jaime was used to small favors.

"Well." Jaime stiffened at a very familiar voice - one his memories would never part with. "How the mighty have fallen." Eventually, the white-cloaked figure rounded the chair and appeared in Jaime's vision, the Hand of the King pin affixed to his surcoat emblazoned with the red three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. "Ser Jaime," he said without emotion.

Jaime gulped. "Ser Barristan." Barristan Selmy had aged considerably, more wrinkles on his face and hair pure white, but his gaze was still sharp and physique strong - clearly a man with many battles still ahead of him. "You look like you've done well for yourself."

A snort. "I can't say the same for you." A biting yet truthful observation.

"Suppose not." Jaime was above petty pride at this point. If what he had been through didn't humble a man… well, they could then always go through what Jon Stark did. "Why are you here, then? Hand of the King?"

"Serving my Queen as she requires of me, unlike those that swear to kinslayers and usurpers."

This caused Jaime to narrow his eyes. "You swore to a kinslayer and usurper too, Barristan - while your King and several of his heirs were still alive if I recall correctly."

Barristan scowled. "A person who kills their King cannot lecture anyone about honor - or are you going to justify it with some excuse?"

"If Tyrion hasn't told you why I did it, then I'm not bothering to say more… only that it was right. The only thing in my life I don't really regret." He was not lost on how perverse and pathetic his life was, only killing his King being something he looked back on with pride - no, not pride. Contentment. All else… only protecting Brienne of Tarth and treating Tyrion as a brother rather than a monster came to mind.

What a life for the darling 'Lion of Lannister.'

"Are you here to kill me, Barristan? If so, then I'd rather go by your blade than her dragons - just let me see my brother first."

Pulling a chair of his own, Barristan sat upon it, the scowl deepening. "You're still the same cheeky little shit as I knew you, but I can tell the years beat you down. Was it because of your hand?" The stump, free of the golden hand, was there for all to see. "I can imagine, losing your sword hand destroyed you."

Jaime looked him in the eye. "It was hard, aye, but made me look at some important truths. Old habits die hard, but I'm a different man than I was… I'm the man I should've been had Robert not killed our King."

"Our King, now?" Barristan laughed, only for a sorrowful look to cross his face. "To this day I wonder if Ser Arthur being there would've changed anything."

"It would've," Jaime said with certainty.

Eyes lost in the past, the old knight stood. "You shan't die by my hand, Ser Jaime. That prerogative belongs to her Grace, the remaining heir of the King we both served… and yes, I can take you to your brother."

Sighing, relief filled Jaime's face as he breathed deeply. "Thank you."

"I'm not doing it for you."

"Thank you nonetheless." Now if only his brother had a better relationship with the Dragon Queen than with their father, perhaps he could survive this...

Sometimes it felt like just yesterday that Jon had seen the towering black walls of Dragonstone castle - the high walls and imposing battlements. Far from intimidating as they were ultimately designed to be, Jon found a sense of comfort coursing over him at that moment. Bringing him back to the memories he had. Mostly painful ones, but also the only ones of joy he could remember with perfect clarity.

Memories of her. Of Daenerys, the woman he should in all honesty hate… but he rather loved. It was then that it felt like decades ago he was last here.

Jon shivered as the skiff bobbed in the shallow waters off the cove. With what he endured, it may as well have been decades.

Closer and closer the skiff rowed to the beach, and there he could see familiar faces. Tyrion Lannister, the shortest among them that drew attention like a flame. The beautiful Lady Missandei, not one that any man wouldn't give a second look but far tougher than she looked. Many guards, both Unsullied and Dothraki. Jon knew he shouldn't tangle with them. He'd win for sure, but it would be a tough thing indeed.

But he wasn't here to make war. As Jon swung over the side and plopped into the shallows, he grabbed the hull of the skiff and began hauling it to the beach alongside his men. No, this was to be a mission of peace.

Both for the realm... and for himself.

As his boots began to reach dry sand and the squelching ceased, Jon allowed himself to meet the eyes of the welcoming party - seeing familiar faces and it drawing a small smile from him. "Lord Tyrion. Standing tall and proud."

While it looked like Tyrion was trying to act as firmly as possible, the comment made him snort. "Cheekiness doesn't suit you, Jon Snow… You're better off brooding."

"I don't know… was always told that I should smile more," he shot back, reaching down to clasp Tyrion politely on the hand. Showing clearly that he was here in peace. Tyrion shook it back, but there was skepticism in his eyes. Not unforeseen. Jon hoped his plan could account for this as he turned. "Lady Missandei. Still beautiful as ever."

Missandei raised a brow. "Flattery, Lord Stark?"

He chuckled. "Don't allow me to misstate my intentions, simply an honest observation." Of the lot of them, the handmaiden, translator, and friend of Daenerys was always one he'd observed to be the most genuinely close to the Queen. Close in terms of actual friendship rather than that of advisors or sworn swords. That was why he chose her… "I come in friendship and peace, which is sorely needed in the Seven Kingdoms."

To her slight surprise, Jon clasped her hands and kissed each of her cheeks. A formal yet warm manner of greeting, signifying respect of friendship… but that didn't draw distract her but momentarily.

Tyrion's brow furrowed toward Jon, he had walked down to the beach with many thoughts streaming through his brain. The Jon Stark that had left certainly had seemed more withdrawn. Perhaps he had gone on a journey of discovery. Unless it was just a trick. He had fallen under the influence of Stannis whilst being mentally unavailable as he was after coming back from death. Both situations could be possible. However, he did have some reservations about Jon being a murderous snake-like Littlefinger.

Jon pressed a crinkle of parchment into Missandei's palm. The note being far more pressing than construing his warm greeting. Missandei felt him trying to pull away without taking the slip, so she closed her fist and trapped whatever he had left her.

She smiled diplomatically, nothing written on her face. "Welcome back to Dragonstone. I pass a message from her Grace that she intends for your stay to be far more pleasant and comfortable than last time."

Jon nodded, amusement dancing in his grey eyes. "I should hope so. No knives to the heart, then?"

Missandei shook her head, eyeing him curiously. "I shall personally make sure that doesn't transpire, Lord Stark."

"Good. Aside from her Grace and the dragons, I fear your wrath more than anyone else's." It didn't take a while for Missandei to find it genuine, smiling at the praise.

Jon took a step forward but Tyrion held his hands up. "I'm sorry, but you must hand your sword over."

"Ah, I see. Not so friendly after all."

"Mean no offense, but you've been gone a long time. Also, the context of your return has us… worried."

Jon could've battled further, though decided against it. With a huff, he undid his belt and handed Longclaw over to a nearby Unsullied.

The climb up the steps didn't bother him, nor did he flinch as the dragons flew overhead. Jon watched the green one - Rhaegal if he remembered correctly - dive and pass by multiple times, each time letting out either a roar or a hoot. "Someone is happy you're returned," Tyrion observed with a raised brow.

Jon shrugged. "I suppose he's happy for his mother."

"The others aren't."

"Can't speak for them, though I could all be wrong. Her Grace is their mother, so she should know more if you are curious." Tyrion let it go, seemingly knowing that Jon wouldn't speak further. There was just no point in small talk.

They'd all know soon which side he was on - at least that was what the Imp assumed.

Within the throne room, Daenerys sat nervously on the Dragonglass Throne. Her fingers tapped against the smooth stone of her armrest as she waited - a mood she had been in ever since the sails of Jon's ship had been seen off the coast of Dragonstone. Lord Varys sat beside her on the dais, while Grey Worm and a line of Unsullied guards were present, but Daenerys made sure they were standing down. Jon suffered while he was in this room, and she didn't want him to feel ill at ease.

"Lord Varys," she ended up saying when the minutes dragged into an hour of sitting there in silence. "Tell me again what your birds say of his treatment."

"Your Grace," the eunuch spoke. "He was treated as a prisoner in the black cells for over a week, but there were no songs of torture… only interrogation." Daenerys closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willing away the most terrifying worries she had for him. "Before we received the dispatch from the Stag's Hand, I believe he was kept in comfortable quarters in Maegor's Holdfast."

She nodded. "Thank the gods for the smallest of favors." Never would he suffer such if she had anything to do about it.

The doors finally creaked open and Dany's heart clenched when Missandei and Tyrion entered. "He is waiting outside for you," her friend stated, taking the place of honor directly across from Dany's left.

Letting out a relieved sigh, the Queen nodded. "Let him in." She straightened herself, hands placed on her lap. She wore a red and black dress - her house's colors, but a finer, more gentle dress that gave an elegant rather than a fearsome air.

Finally, the doors opened fully and her breath hitched. There he was, Jon Stark, the man she loved. He strode in tall and mighty, dressed similarly to how he had been when they first met but clean… not a sense of fear or apprehension upon him. He looked confident and powerful, something Daenerys greatly enjoyed. It made him so irresistibly handsome.

"Presenting," Missandei began, adding a little more happiness to her voice reflecting her Queen's relief at seeing Jon Stark alive, well, and returned to Dragonstone. "Lord Jon of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Special envoy of peace for the King-claimant, Stannis Baratheon."

The latter made Dany's hopeful smile falter at just hearing it, briefed as she was on it. They went with such a neutral term for both him and Stannis, both acknowledging the existence of Stannis' claim and Jon's role without confirming the claim or Jon being sworn again to the Stag King respectively. Still, it hurt her heart to think of.

But she found his gaze, ignorant of all else with his grey eyes fixed on her in an intensity she had never truly witnessed before. It heartened her heart.

"Lord…" She cleared her throat. "Lord Stark, it is my honor to receive you here again."

"A much better welcoming for sure, your Grace," was his first response, with a tiny smile. The jape was momentary for he bowed graciously. "I am honored to be hosted by you, and I hope that our dealings will be fair and lead to a proper outcome that ends in a favorable peace."

Clasping his hands together, Tyrion didn't look convinced. "A favorable peace for whom? Our Queen, or your Queen?"

"Tyrion," Dany stated firmly. "That is enough…"

"Forgive me, your Grace, but I don't mind answering." His smile to her placated Dany. "To be honest, Lord Tyrion, I do not believe either side has a desire for any sort of peace in which there are too many damaging concessions. King Stannis holds Westeros' loyalty while Queen Daenerys possesses an undamaged army and three dragons. Powerful bargaining chips that can only result in a mutually beneficial peace."

"That is understood, Lord Stark, but I fear you arrived here thinking you would receive a reception as an ally… when I'm worried that I know not whether you are a neutral or an enemy." Daenerys wanted to silence him, but Tyrion possessed a point. "Would you side with your King in battle, or with my Queen?"

Jon didn't reply immediately but finally spoke. "There are questions that I cannot answer, since my goal here is to seek negotiation." Dany felt apprehensive of that statement, as did Tyrion and Varys, but she could see Missandei calm. Did she see something that Daenerys herself didn't? "As such, I will need the ability to send ravens to King's Landing without disruption."

"You will have that, Lord Stark."

At that moment she saw someone speaking to Lord Varys off to the side, something that made his brows rise before darting back to the Iron Throne - whatever he had been told, it was important enough to interrupt her diplomatic session with Jon. It irked Dany, to turn her gaze away from her love, but she trusted Varys enough to go along with it. "Your Grace," he murmured in her ear.

"Get on with it, I'm busy," she whispered back.

"Jaime Lannister is here."

Blinking, Dany looked into Varys' eyes. She hadn't expected that. Biting her lips, Daenerys knew this was something she would have to deal with immediately - at least in regards to what was going on with Jon, the various issues that now existed between them were too far to bridge in one meeting. Feeling her head throb, she merely looked back into the eyes of her love. "Forgive me, Lord Stark. Something has come up and we shall have to call this discussion short."

He nodded back, taking this… surprisingly well in her mind. "I understand, your Grace. By the grace of the old gods and the new, I hope that we can continue this parlay soon in order to obtain a peaceful conclusion to this unfortunate conflict." Gods, what was this person? He was never this eloquent… rather blunt and without flourish from when she knew him, both before and after his resurrection.

Nothing added up anymore, and it made her apprehensive of what had happened in King's Landing after she let him go at his request. "We will meet again at dinner. Until then, I'll have Grey Worm escort you to your quarters."

His brow rose. "My last quarters in this keep or my first quarters in this keep? Because I have a preference if her Grace will consider my desires in the determination."

It took Daenerys a second to realize the wry humor in his tone - Missandei and Tyrion were different, the former stifling the laugh while the other laughed, but awkwardly. "Lord Stark," she finally got out. "I believe you're trying to make a mockery of me." Daenerys' words had a tone of amusement. Perhaps Jon's new attitudes weren't all worrisome.

"I wouldn't dare seek to mock a woman with dragons. However, I do truly hope that I receive my latter accommodations here."

"You don't need to hold worry, Lord Stark. You shall have the chambers you had the night prior to your departure." Clapping her hands, Daenerys decreed it into existence. "Grey Worm, see Jon to his chambers."

While he was without a helm, shield, or spear, the short sword was still visible at the Unsullied Commander's side. Jon noticed it quickly, and the words came from his lips before he could think more about them. "Am I a prisoner or a guest, your Grace?"

The words gave Dany pause, sighing. "A guest, Lord Stark - an honored guest. But considering what happened last time I felt you needed a proper guard."

Eying Grey Worm, seeing no hostility in the man's disciplined expression, Jon found the gesture both non-threatening and endearing. Long did he wish he could just walk up to her and kiss her senseless, but he restrained himself - there was a time and place for that, he just needed to be patient. "I'd surely feel safer with Longclaw at my side."

Dany hadn't noticed he was sword-less. She glanced at Tyrion who was already looking at her with a stern countenance. Naturally, she had understood why he had taken Jon's sword. Yet, Jon feeling unsafe under her roof unsettled her. "I see," she began. "Given the situation, there are a few unknowns surrounding you. If those are smoothed out, your weapon shall be returned to you promptly. Though, I swear during your stay here you will remain unharmed, on my honor as Queen."

He bowed, not a sign of fealty but one of respect. "That will have to do. Your Grace, until later."

"Until later," she replied with a small smile, feeling a sense of contentment now that he was finally here - if not on her side fully, but alive and still with a feeling for her. Daenerys could tell. If only Stannis could be defeated… then all of this can end. When Jon disappeared out of the throne room, Dany rose to leave when Missandei approached the Dragonglass Throne. "Forgive me, your Grace," she murmured in a hushed tone. "Do not react, but Jon Stark gave me this." They passed down the dias and towards the corridors that led to her solar, alone but for their guards - Tyrion and Varys were off to deal with Jaime Lannister, most likely. Missandei used the moment to hand over a scrunched-up slip of paper with scrawl upon it.

Dany read it quickly, her heart quickening.

If you trust me to keep my promise, then dismiss your advisors and speak to me alone.

A shiver passed through Daenerys, thoughts immediately going to what this could mean. But those pleasurable thoughts were soon mixed with ones that frustrated her. What was he getting at? She peered up at Missandei, "Did you read this?" She shook her head so Dany handed it to her.

Missandei frowned, "Keep his promise?"

"He made a promise to return to me."

"I suppose he's done that already."

"Not like I wanted him to."

"Then perhaps that's what he's talking about?"

"I have to know what he has to say," Dany said quickly, rising from her throne.

"Is it perhaps the best idea to go see him right now?" Missandei questioned.

"I don't care. I am Daenerys Stormborn." It was but a few moments before the two young women grinned at each other.

The door was opened firmly for Daenerys to enter. She entered to see a puzzled-looking Jon Stark standing on the balcony of his chambers. He took a half step toward her but she breezed out to him, joining him in the open air. Jon half-expected her guards to follow her but relaxed when they didn't.

Dany held up Jon's note in front of his face, and peaked at him around it, "Mind explaining this to me?"

She had a moderate seriousness to her tone, which took Jon's off-guard. "Well, it's as it says."

"What's with all the secrecy?"

Jon leaned against the railing, "It's not like we are on the best terms… Publicly. Though I figured you would be sour with me."

Dany put her hands on her hips, "Oh, why? Because you were returned to me under the guise of being my mortal enemy's envoy?"

"Yes, that's exactly why," Jon chuckled.

"Is that actually why you're here?"

"Yes and no," Jon smirked. When he noticed Dany growing a bit peeved he continued. "Yes, I am here to attempt to reach peace between you and Stannis. No, that is not the only reason I am here."

Dany huffed, "How can you possibly think peace between us is possible?"

"Because thousands upon thousands of lives will be lost if the two of you fight," Jon pointed out. "I'm fairly confident that would bother you. A throne on top of millions of bones."

Dany looked out to sea, choosing not to answer immediately. "If it does bother me?"

"Well, then it would be in your best interest to allow me to offer you some options. But we don't have to do that now. In fact, that is the last thing I want to do right now," Jon told her.

Not turning fully to him, Dany said, "What was the other reason you came here?"

"What you've been thinking of since I got here," Jon said, nearly whispering. "What you've always wanted from me. That's the other reason I'm here."

"I see," Dany turned fully to him. "How do you know what I'm thinking of?"

"You're not that hard to read, Daenerys. Besides, given what I remember from our last encounter, there's nothing you'd want more."

His brazen-ness was something she'd never seen from him. She wasn't acutely prepared for it, though Daenerys also wasn't sure that she truly minded.

"I've had a lot of time with myself, Daenerys," Jon said. "When I left here the first time, I really did want to find myself again. I believe I did. However, the person I am now is not entirely who Jon Stark was before. That man may never return." He brought his hand up near his face and flexed it over and over again. Dany noticed some scars on his knuckles. "Sometimes, I feel like a visitor in my own skin. My mind isn't as a mess as it was. But I don't remember everything. Though there's something I never forgot. Y'know what it was?"

Dany shook her head, "No."

Slowly, Jon brushed his thumb over her chin. Dany closed her eyes at his touch. He whispered, "You. I never forgot you, Dany." Jon stayed quiet for a few moments, then stepped closer to her. "I hope it won't be too hard to find your chambers. I'll be making my way there tonight. No one will hear me. Your guard better not be there, as I don't intend to be seen." Dany's body shuddered, she put her hand on the railing for support. Jon backed up to give her some room. "You should go, Daenerys. I don't want rumors being spread already. I just got here."

She exhaled and straightened herself, running a hand down her dress. "That's the thing about rumors, it's hard to stop them once they start to spread," she said.

"Well, we best try to avoid that in the present time," Jon said.

"Right, well, don't leave me cryptic messages then," Dany replied. "That way, I won't have to come to make a scene about it. You're lucky my Unsullied don't fully understand the common tongue."

"I'm not worried about the Unsullied, Daenerys. It's the handmaids."

"Handmaids are what they are. They hear everything. They know all the ongoings of a castle. A majority of Varys' little birds are handmaids," Dany said. "They'll know someone was in my room when they enter in the morning. Think it will be hard for them to guess it was you?"

At that, Jon was a bit speechless. He wasn't sure how Stannis would react to hearing some rumors of him wooing Daenerys so soon. Naturally, that was something he would've expected Jon to do under the 'deceive the Dragon Queen' plan. Despite that, his desire for Daenerys was growing more by the second. If he waited much longer his heart might stop. He'd take the risk.

"We'll have to just run the gambit. Shall we? A man can only wait so long."

Dany smirked, "I've waited quite a while."

"Not so much longer now, darling," Jon said. Then motioned toward the door, "I'm sure we have much more to speak of. However, as I said, you should go. But I will come to find you later."

Dany nodded, but before she left, she walked over to Jon. He watched her carefully with a raised eyebrow. She brought her hand up to give his face a gentle caress. Plenty of air vacated Jon's lungs. Before he knew it, her feet carried her out of the room at a brisk pace.

Sansa Stark was happy.

It wasn't close to the carefree joy she had expressed through twirling about in imaginary dance during those happy days before the specter of war and death scythed through Winterfell - she had grown since then. Experienced much since then to dampen her spirit and expose her soul to the barbarities of the human spirit, but it was there nonetheless. Concealed as it was behind her ladylike mask of authority, there was the tiny smile on her lips rather than a hard frown. The purpose in her gait rather than one worn with the responsibilities of ruling. The inclination to peaceful resolutions or compromise rather than a hardline stance. All pointed to a source of joy that had entered her life.

The servants and guards gossiped as they always did. Some rumors were reasonable. Some were outlandish, while others were very close to the mark. But gossip it was. She wouldn't tell, as she didn't want to expose the source of her happiness to the lecherous gazes of her court.

Or simply she was too afraid of her happiness to leave her if it became public.

Perhaps a little bit of both.

"I don't care what others say about me, or us," Podrick had assured her that morning as they were getting dressed, fresh and relaxed from their nighttime activities - an activity Sansa had learned to enjoy and treasure after so long of being in terror of it. Another reason to be happy… to be happy with him.

As such, she cast him a brilliant smile reserved only for the ones she cared about - something she didn't give away willingly. "If that were the only concern, Pod, I would shout it from the broken tower for everyone to hear." There was sincerity in Sansa's voice. "But I am the Lady of Winterfell while Jon… is gone. I am Rickon's regent and the only one who can maintain order here." Seeing him sigh, Sansa darted forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I promise, the right time will come and everyone will know."

He gave the biggest smile to that, kissing her back and then parting from her chambers - Sansa always felt a loss when he left.

Sansa always dressed in the absence of her maids, not wanting anyone to see the many scars from Ramsay's torture that she didn't trust implicitly not to judge her. But once her dress had been affixed to her body in a mostly presentable manner - it had always been something she was good at - Sansa called in her maids and they went to work on the rest. Styling her hair, picking out the simple yet fitting jewelry, and banishing traces of sleep from her expression.

She looked ready to start the day - a strong, cunning woman no one could underestimate.

Brienne greeted her first thing outside the door. "My Lady." She dipped her head.

"Ser Brienne," Sansa replied, the two of them falling into step as they walked towards the private dining hall to break her fast. "Did you have a pleasant night?"

"I did, as did you, I assume." That drew a raised eyebrow from the northern lady. "Don't count me a fool, my Lady."

"Not for once did I, so best out with it."

"Is Podrick good to you?" That drew a curious glance, a bit confused. "He is a sweet boy, but some men look that way but are more beast than man when in private… or deep in their cups."

Expression growing icy for a moment as she pondered that - her own experiences salient in her mind - Sansa let out a deep exhale. "I know for a fact what men are capable of… I feared so long to risk my heart and body, but Ser Payne has proven himself cut from a far different cloth."

Brienne visibly relaxed. "Thank the Seven. Forgive me, my Lady. I just had to be sure."

"I know."

"He's in love with you, it's obvious." Brienne studied her Lady, trying to take in her emotion at the statement. "Do you feel the same for him?"

Sansa was silent for a moment, thinking. "Aye, I think I do."

The morning meal was eaten without pretensions, simply Sansa in the dining chamber with her brother - the latter barely eating as he was wont to do and little conversation exchanged beyond pleasantries. Sansa wished to say she was used to Bran being this way, but that would be a lie. It was unsettling. But with their family in their current state, it was in she couldn't allow herself to be dismissive of blood.

Rickon arriving brought some warmth back, the lad bright with energy as he was finally settling into a proper rhythm of things. His words on the progress of his swordplay and adventures with Shaggydog and Ghost always brought a smile to Sansa's face, idly reaching down to scratch at the white fur of Jon's direwolf. It was times like these that she truly missed Lady…

And hated herself for not knowing then that Joffrey was an evil monster.

Eventually, the meal was finished and it was time to hear petitioners - a matter both curtailed and vital during winter. Claims no longer reached into the petty, namely trade disputes or squabbles between the various smallfolk populating Wintertown, but rather matters of import such as food distribution or the dispensation of the Lord's Justice. Perhaps at the moment, Lady's Justice would be more appropriate.

A tiny smirk was spared for the memory of Cersei. Whichever hell she was rotting in, Sansa knew that the bitch would have to watch as the girl she so hated became the woman she could never be.

Maester Wolkan and the guards bowed to her, Rickon, and the wheeled in Bran in quick succession, waiting to speak till each was in place atop the table of honor where their father had once heard petitioners and embassies. "What is first, Wolkan?" Sansa asked.

"A group of warriors, seeking to join your cause and pledge their banners to House Stark, my Lady. They call themselves the Brotherhood Without Banners."

She was instantly suspicious. Sansa had heard of the Brotherhood Without Banners, often as a form of epithet among the Lannisters during the early days of the War of the Five Kings due to their partisan war against Tywin in the Riverlands. That made them more likely than not to be allies, but she knew not to accept something offered so… easily. "While fighting men are always appreciated, what proof do they have that we can trust them?"

"They are accompanied by one of your bannermen, Lord Howland Reed, and his daughter Meera. Both have told me that the men can be trusted to at least make their case before you."

What happened next surprised Sansa. "Do not let them in."

Turning to Bran, she hadn't seen him so animated since before his fall… though it was barely a fraction of before. "Why, brother?"

The worry ended up fading, replaced by Bran's normal placid emotionlessness. "In case there's an attack from the south, you should have Lord Howland in the Neck."

"The Brotherhood can be trusted to be placed among our banners, but House Reed should be in its keep," Sansa said.

That was wise advice, but Sansa could sense Bran had other reasons for arguing it. "See them to quarters in the keep, and inform them I will meet with them later." Wolkan bowed and left. Looking between Bran and Rickon, Sansa sighed. Father made this look so simple.

Perhaps she should've paid more attention when she was still young and innocent.

It was the hour of the wolf when Jon emerged from his chambers - they were just as comfortable as he remembered, though he hadn't known them to be as icy as they felt. She wasn't in them, that was why.

Well, time to fix that.

Thankfully, Daenerys seemed to have taken his request - well not really a request - to heart. There were no sentries, no guards at his door or elsewhere in the hallway. An insane oversight for someone worried about being attacked, but an admission of trust to one cared for. It filled Jon with a rare warmth that came difficultly for him since the moment. Seven hells, probably even before that as well. Willing away the dour thoughts, he hurried along the corridors, recollecting where to go while operating on moonlight alone.

By the grace of the gods, he found the royal quarters for the Prince of Dragonstone - a vacant title, since Daenerys was Queen and there was no other living Targaryen left to occupy it other than Aemon, and he had long since sworn away titles upon taking the chains of a Maester. More alone than even the Starks. It was… sobering. Without another thought on it, he slowly opened the door.

Jon entered to see Dany with her back turned to him. Though, she slowly shifted to face him with slightly raised eyebrows. She stood near the bed, hands interlocked, waiting for him in something… far less cumbersome or intimidating than the dress from earlier. Not quite a state of undress but something simple.

"Well, you certainly were quiet," Dany murmured, her voice catching a little. Her gaze was filled with… something Jon wished to see much more of.

He gave a wry grin, walking to the middle of the room after making sure the door was shut all the way. "That was my objective. As I said."

"You did." The Queen took a few steps closer, her face illuminated by a single candle.

"Hmm," Jon muttered, eyeing her up and down, ravenous tendencies arising. "I see you're aware of my intentions."

"We're truly alone, Jon Stark. Nothing to interrupt us," Daenerys said, quietly. Jon moved forward, likely to enrapture her. But Dany held up her hand. Jon froze. Dany slowly began to walk around him. Jon moved only his head to follow her.

Dany continued, "Yet, you confuse me, Jon Stark. I've known a great many men in my life. More than I can count only cared about what's between my legs. Very little of them got want they desired." She stopped directly behind him but rose up just behind his ear. "Yet, you, Jon Stark, could've had me, if you'd only asked."

Jon's body loosened as a chill ran through his body. Dany kept on, moving again. "You were the only one who had that privilege. Still, you never asked. Even though I wished every day you might."

"When did that start?" Jon finally spoke.

"Around the time you showed me the dragonglass," Dany said simply, still circling him. "Then, you were taken from me. I thought I would never get what I wanted. Which doesn't happen to me often. When the Red Priestess brought you back to me. I realized that my desires for you weren't entirely physical. I had a deep affection for you. Your loss weighed deeply on me. So, when you came back, my desire for you only increased."

"I see."

"But you denied my affections, mostly, aside from our lone kiss," Dany told him. "I'd waited a long time for that kiss. You made me wait." She stopped right in front of him. "Then, you left. You've made me wait, even longer. I am not an impatient woman. But I am tired of waiting. You even made me question if this moment would even happen. With you being an envoy of Stannis."

"I spent a long time thinking about how to get back to you. That was my best idea." No sense lying about it.

"I would have rathered you just not left in the first place," Dany said, with a hint of ire.

"My mind was in shambles," Jon said. "I was in pain. Sitting here in this castle was like running in circles."

"Your adventures outside of my roof were much better, then?"

"No, but I needed to repair my mind with something other than words that people told me," Jon said, inching closer to her. "But that doesn't mean I thought of you every day. Wondering if I even deserved to have you. Because it certainly didn't always feel that way. But that didn't stop me from constantly thinking about while I was here."

"So you had to go."

"I had to go," Jon sighed.

"Do you feel deserving now?"

"I feel…" Jon whispered. "I feel like I can be."

They drew close to one another, mere inches apart. Dany said, "You're the only one for me."

Finally, she broke. Convinced as she was of his loyalty, of his affection, Daenerys didn't care. After so long with a hole in her heart, she simply took it selfishly and without abandon. The Queen reached up quickly, hands moving around his neck to weave into his hair and pull Jon Stark to her - mouths slanting together in a heated kiss. After mere moments, a moan left her mouth as their lips parted and the kiss deepened. Gods, she had dreamed of this returning to her and the genuine article did not disappoint.

All the arguments of earlier, the stresses of rule and duty and war faded away as they kissed. Jon's hands planted themselves at her slender waist - the dress modest yet exposing every curve - while Dany's tightened in his long hair. Their passion was fierce, but their touch gentle. Like the thirsty finding water, but savoring the cool taste rather than frantically gulping it down. She pulled his hair from the ties, letting it flow freely over his shoulders.

He looked beautiful.

As did she in the low candlelight.

They broke apart, in need of air, Dany's face flushed and Jon breathing hard. Their eyes locked on each other. Trembling from need and the sheer weight of it all, Dany reached up and cupped Jon's cheek. Stroking the coarse stubble that only made him more beautiful in her opinion. His eyes, normally dull and pained, were sparkling with lust… and love. "Jon…"

"Dany…"

Staring at him, she nodded her head ever so slightly. Telling him without words just how much he was welcome. Jon said nothing either, merely weaving their hands together and beginning to nudge her back to her large bed.

Her legs hitting the side of the bed seemed to ignite something within them. His fingers attacked the laces and straps of her dress, her hands tugging at his belt to loosen his pants. Straps were flung aside while his shirt was peeled off. Daenerys stopped, her lust paused as the sight of his scar came into view. Her eyes filled with tears, gently raising her hand to touch the still raw edges… making him wince involuntarily.

"My fault," she murmured, voice threatening to break.

Jon merely took her hand and kissed the back of it. Skin tingling, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss of her own on the scar - willing that it banished his pain away. One kiss turned to three, which turned to his lips going to her neck… ending in the two of them falling fully nude atop the bedcovers.

Their lips never broke as they made their way to the center of the bed, Dany's fingers digging into his back. He was strong and had thick muscles, ones crisscrossed with scars belying his battle prowess. It both made her sad for him and also spurred on her lust. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she flipped them over, hair falling around her face as she stared into his eyes. Eyes grew so dark a grey they were almost black.

"Dany…" His hands ran down her sides as her hips rolled against his. Gods, it felt good, like the eye of a great storm bringing relief and calm to his soul. He leaned up, taking a nipple into his mouth. Coaxing moans and sighs from Dany as he pleased her. Often did Jon dream of this… even before his death, he suspected. The reality was far better than any dream, one he couldn't hope to resist even if he wanted to.

Finally, after so long Daenerys sunk down on him, her mouth quivering and him letting out a grunt against her breast. She felt her insides stretched out, and it was glorious. Much as she wanted his mouth on her, Dany pushed him to his back, hands resting on his chest as she began a pleasing pace. Their eyes locked as she found herself unable to tear away from him.

Love comes in at the eyes.

Her moans turned to gasps, pressure building quickly… or had it been hours? She couldn't tell. All that Daenerys knew was that what she felt was nothing she was familiar with. Drogo had been a brute, somewhat tamed by her as she grew pregnant but never pleasing. Daario wasn't unpleasing when the traitor was her lover, but his arrogance showed that even though she was his Queen, he was but a conquest for her. Perhaps she always knew it, which was why it was never truly pleasurable for her.

Jon was different. Jon was genuine. Someone that cared for her without selfish motives… someone she loved in spite of it all. And through his eyes, she could tell he felt the same way. Feeling her edge being reached, Dany let him tug her to him - their lips fusing just as she shattered around him. His own seed spurting out at the same time. Moans, screams, and gasps were muffled by their torrid kiss, hands wandering and bodies flush together.

Nothing had ever felt so glorious for either of them.

Rolling off of Jon, Daenerys immediately missed the closeness and turned to him - greeted by his face as he was turned to her as well. She giggled softly, the sound so strange to Daenerys' ears but one not unwelcome. "I seem to have the same idea as you."

"Hmm," Jon replied, wrapping his arms around her. His breath hitched when he felt her press a kiss against the scar over his heart. Holding her tight, he wouldn't break - he wouldn't feel the same pained emotion that remembering that day brought him. But as the moments passed… "Realized somethin',"

Daenerys stirred, drawn from the hypnotizing sound of her heartbeat. "What might that be?"

He kissed the crown of her silver hair, rewarded by her snuggling closer to him. "No pain. First time since our kiss before I left, but it's been gone for a while and I haven't gotten it back."

She looked up at him, her face filled with warmth. "I'm so relieved to hear that." Only the single candle burning beside the bed, it joined with the moonlight to frame his face. One so serene, it almost didn't seem like Jon Stark. "Jon," she murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek. "You know I love you, right?"

Jon covered her hand with his, turning to kiss the palm. A simple, intimate gesture that he felt compelled to do. "Aye."

The moment hung between them for what seemed like forever, Dany simply staring into his eyes and he did not pull away. "Does it surprise you?" she finally asked.

Such was a good question, he found. "It does, considering who I am and who you are." Jon ran his fingers along the smooth skin of her bareback. "You a dragon, a Targaryen - and me a direwolf, a Stark."

"I agree, it does seem unexpected… my direwolf." Her cheek and ear rested back against his chest, finding his heartbeat again.

"Very unexpected. But I've learned from my life to expect the unexpected, especially from you."

Daenerys had been praised before - obsequiously so by hundreds of dignitaries and tens of thousands of subjects - but none had been as meaningful to her as Jon's laconic phrase. "Jon." She enjoyed speaking his name but averted her eyes from his. "Forgive me, but I don't always feel worthy of love."

Silent for the moment, Jon thought his response carefully. "I won't lie and tell you that you never should feel that. Sometimes I feel unworthy of the love you give me, that my sister Arya gives me." Daenerys looked back up, interested in hearing about his family… but he merely continued. "But you love me, so I must be worthy of some of it."

She sighed, wondering how she could be so lucky to have him - especially after everything. "You are," Daenerys told him, willing that he'd believe it. "I hope I am."

"I think… I think you deserve all the love and happiness possible," Jon told her. "You've earned it."

"Some don't share that opinion."

"Their opinions are their own. But they don't have to matter to you," Jon said. "You have to decide for yourself who matters to you. Cut out those who'd rather see you fall."

"You matter to me, Jon Stark," Daenerys said, quietly.

Jon's eyes widened, not certain he'd ever been told that before. Surely, he mattered to his siblings, or so he assumed. They'd never told him to his face according to what little he remembered, though in Arya's case it was obviously implied. But to hear it explicitly from Dany gave him a level of warmth inside him. To know that he was important to someone else in that way. He didn't have to fully remember his bastard days to know that little to no one felt that for him back then. He smiled, "That means a lot to me to know that. Thank you."

Dany brushed her hand against his cheek, "It's so easy to love you." Wanting to embrace him fully, to kiss him again and be lost in their passion as they had before, something stilled Daenerys. Something he still hadn't said. "Jon Stark… there is still a question that I must ask."

"Oh?" He wriggled down till their eyes were level, smirking, "Ask then."

"Well…" A slight blush warmed Dany's cheek, making her look like a young girl rather than a mighty conquering dragon rider. "Do you love me?"

Jon faltered for a moment, then said, "I think… before I died, I struggled with that. Did I love you?" It seemed so surreal - the woman that imprisoned him and nearly burned him alive. "I hated you, that's for certain. Or at least what I thought you were."

Daenerys looked away, biting her lip. "Many people said many things of me. After a while, you harden your heart to them… only to become what they say if you aren't careful."

"Dany…" He made her look at him. "Eventually I saw you for what you were, but my vows to Stannis stood in the way."

"That doesn't answer the question, Jon."

"No, I suppose not."

She snorted. "I've heard Northerners can be quite direct."

He smiled gently. "Yes, they can be."

"And yet the one sharing my bed is as cagey as Lord Varys." Wanting an answer, Daenerys kissed him, firmly. Tongues dancing before she pulled back. "I ask again, do you love me?"

Jon resumed the kiss, this one lasting much longer until they were close to breathless. "Irresistibly, I do," his voice was hoarse, close to the breaking point… and fully genuine.

A gasp came from Dany's throat. "I love you."

"I love you."

Each simply luxuriated in the mutual feeling. Kissing softly, hands brushing against bare skin. "All my life," Dany finally began once their hearts had calmed. "I just wanted a home to go to. Someplace safe, where I didn't have to be a pawn or a Queen or a conqueror, but just myself. Seems I've found that with you, against all odds."

"The odds we faced made impossible look likely."

She giggled in spite of herself, faced with his slight grin. "If only we had been smarter… been better in how we went about our decisions. Then a lot of pain could've been avoided."

"Wasn't it you that said, 'If you look back, you are lost?'"

"A man that listens is one never to let go," she japed, only to grow serious again. Able to speak anything on her mind with her new lover, the only man she wanted beside her from here on. "Tell me the truth, Jon. I know you want peace, but if the choice came..."

Not a moment did he hesitate. "I'd slaughter anyone that dared threaten you."

Daenerys shuddered at his words but wasn't in fear. More in rapture. "You… it really was all a front. Your words in public."

"I will fight for peace, do not get me wrong, Daenerys. By the old gods and the new I don't want you and Stannis to fight, both on my own accord and knowing of what waits for us in the North, but if I need to I will choose you. I will fight anyone that threatens you."

"Stannis threatens me. There will be no peace, Jon." Daenerys hated to break his hopes, but she knew many men like Stannis. "He'll never give up or give in."

"If you are right, Dany, that's why I'm here. To stand in the way."

She clutched his arm. "What good does that do but put you in danger?" Dany asked him. "You think I want to think about losing you again?"

"How can I not try to protect you?"

"This sounds like your protecting Stannis," Dany said, sternly. "What reason do I have to negotiate with him? I can win the throne outright."

"Stannis won't blow up King's Landing as Cersei or the Mad King did." He winced, remembering the Mad King's relation to Dany and not wishing to open that wound. "But he won't go quietly. He'll take several thousand or tens of thousands with him in a battle with you."

Daenerys understood that. Even in defeat, Jon had bloodied her armies at Duskendale, not to speak of Baelor Hightower's savaging of Arianne Martell's host in Dorne. "I still have dragons, my love. Wouldn't it be best for everyone if I ended it quickly? Stopped this petty squabbling over that godforsaken iron chair?"

He nodded. "Aye, it would be the easy thing and I am prepared to stand with you gladly if it's the only way… but would it be the right thing? The manner you wish to acquire your throne and title in?" The words hung. "You told me you wanted to break the wheel, to be different."

"I can't change basic reality, Jon."

"You did when you hatched three dragons from stone." She was silent at that - he was right. "From what you told me you did in Dorne… what you didn't do rather, I know you have the ability to win without bloodshed, which is why I'm here."

"To restrain my fiery impulses?"

He kissed her sweetly. "To ensure the world sees you as I finally came to see you."

Her breath hitched yet again. "And how…" Dany's voice threatened to break. "How do you see me?"

Letting the moment draw out, Jon cupped her cheek. "A port in the storm. A beacon of light. Hope in the midst of an agonizing darkness."

Lost in his eyes, Dany embraced him. Melding flush against his body - willing that if this were a dream that she'd never awaken. "I've always known that coming here, returning to Westeros, I'd have to find a man that would be at my side."

"Do I fit what you've always imagined?" Jon asked.

"No…" Dany felt amusement as he tensed. "And that's a good thing, I believe."

He chuckled. "You're what I always needed."

Leaning up, she kissed him, one that soon devolved into the torrid passion of earlier. "Take me again before I die of thirst," she said breathlessly.

Jon gladly obliged.

A/N: Bruh: Well, was it everything you expected? We have certainly been waiting a very long time to have Jon and Dany finally come together. It only took 48 chapters. Eventual romance, it is.

More cool stuff ahead for y'all.

See ya again down the road.

Longclaw: I hope that satisfied expectations after so long. Trust me, we certainly enjoyed writing it.

Until next time! Please comment on the huge new developments. We're gonna try and get this out sooner and the more comments we get the more motivated we will be.