Tangent Chapter 8

I feel compelled to warn you all....most of this chapter is sex. If you’re not into that, cool,

wait for the next chapter. that one will be....less consumed by it, anyways.

 AHEM: please reference Wiki of Ice and Fire for bedding ceremony information, including
book vs. show. There’s quite a discrepancy between the two. Also, incest was condemned
and MORE taboo in real medieval Europe than now contrary to what some of you have tried
to lecture me. Google “6 degrees of cosanguinity”. That’s a great place to start.

The wedding feast was simple fare, but lling; Dany found she was growing used to the heavier
foods of the North and enjoyed her meal of roasted meats and fresh bread, cheeses and mashed
roasted root vegetables. She reveled in sitting next to Jon in the open for the rst time, able to
appreciate the intimacy of the meal while they talked together, their allies and friends looking
on, watching for signs that the newlyweds were at least compatible. She suddenly realized
she and Jon had never been quite social together and had hardly spoken to each other in
public since their arrival in Winterfell. It felt both illicit and wonderful that she and Jon had
already been married for weeks, a secret that they planned on keeping, along with Jon’s
name for the time being.

Looking around at the room full of celebration, it hit her; with the help of the Stark sisters,
they’d done it. They’d managed to get the approval that she’d desperately wanted and
needed, and she

allowed herself the moment to enjoy it.

The merriment around them grew as the ale began to ow. Dany watched Jon out of the corner
of her eye as the evening wore on, her amusement growing as he became skittish until he was
not at all able to pay attention to what she was saying. She kept her laughter inside, not
wanting to spoil the joke.

Jon, however oblivious he was toward Dany’s mirth, kept nervously waiting for someone to start
shouting obscenities and rude jokes, initiating the bedding. He was planning to put a stop to it
before it could become a thing if he could, so he was trying to stay alert. He recalled the story
where Ned had not wanted a bedding either when he’d married Catelyn, saying it would have
been unseemly to break someone’s jaw at his own wedding.

Daenerys had already quietly slipped word to Lord Tyrion hours earlier that there was to be no
bedding ceremony. Her Hand had readily agreed that it was for the best, and she sighed with her
relief. She realized later, aer she recalled hearing about Tyrion’s wedding to Sansa that neither

one of them would nd it humorous or entertaining as it was meant to be. He had promised to
spread the word and that when the time came, she and Jon would be able to simply slip away
from the feast and be gone for the night without anyone even shouting aer them.

She leaned over toward him and he met her halfway, but only slightly paying attention to her, his
eyes on the crowd of people in front of them. “Jon,” she said. “Look at me.”

“Can’t,” he said nervously, scanning the lled Hall. “I’m not letting these assholes start
something.”

She realized it had gone from funny to torture, so it was no longer enjoyable for her.
Poor Jon. I’m sorry, my love. “Let’s just go. No one will miss us,” she whispered, tugging
on his sleeve.

He sighed audibly in relief. “That’s the best idea you’ve had all day,” he said, jumping up and
taking her hand, pulling her quickly into a back passageway.

As soon as the heavy door shut behind them, she burst out laughing. He stopped to look at her
while she laughed, then was suddenly pushing her up against the wall as she struggled to quell
her laughter. He leaned in close, giving her time to refuse, but she wrapped her arms around his
neck, pulled him closer still, and kissed him solidly on the mouth. “I told Tyrion this aernoon
to not allow a bedding, and to put the word out to the ones most likely to attempt to start
something to......not,” she whispered when she pulled back.

The look on his face was worth it. Realization washed through him and he hued out a laugh at
his own nervousness. “That wasn’t very fair,” he laughed, then kissed her again before letting her
go so she could slide down to the oor. “Your room or mine?” he asked.

“I’ve had your things brought to mine already; I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous,” she
answered, taking him by the hand. “You had fewer things to move,” she explained as they
made their way to her quarters.

Once inside, he looked around, noticing how well their possessions blended together. She could
feel him watching her as she carefully pulled the silver dragon pin from her hair, releasing her
braids. She caught him looking at her, so she turned to face him, an expectant smile on her face.
“Let’s talk,” she suggested, coming up to him.

“Right,” he answered, slightly confused as she turned her back to him, but then realized she
needed his help getting her dress undone. She could feel him fumble with the line of pearl
buttons until he established a rhythm to it, and then laid the back of her dress open,
exposing the next layer beneath.

“Should I start?” she oered, her nimble ngers undoing her complicated plaits with ease and
combing them into so waves without the aid of a brush.

“Probably,” he answered. “This is taking some.......concentration.” He helped her out of the

beautiful outer dress, then went to work on the lacings of the under layer.

“We’ve covered the apologies part of the conversation,” she began. “Is there anything you’d
like to add?”
“I’d like to add that.....” he yanked the lacing loose, snapping it. “Sorry,” he said, handing the
broken lacing to her over her shoulder and she made a murmur of thanks before he
continued. “I love you and I’m determined to not fuck this up again. I’m grateful you’re willing
to give me another chance, Daenerys. I don’t deserve it, and I promise I’ll make it up to you
somehow.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, turning to face him, letting the under layer drop, leaving her
in a long and so lamb’s wool shi. The whiteness of it made her skin seem to glow. She rested
her hands on his shoulders. “What are your intentions tonight, Jon?”

He blew out a breath and looked at the ceiling, hoping for an answer. When none came, he
looked down at her again. “I fully intend to be here with you in any capacity you’ll have me,” he
answered nally, admiring her loose hair with his ngers. “I didn’t mean for this,” he gestured
between the two of them, her dress on the oor and his polished armor, “to happen again so
quickly, but I’m glad it did.”

She smiled at him. “I’m also glad we did this again. It might be our chance to start over and I
really felt it was better to give them what they wanted as soon as we were able.”

“I’m not a politician,” he said slowly. “I didn’t understand at rst why you were so willing to drop
everything and marry again, especially aer how the past few weeks have been. I get it now,
though.” He seemed to consider her thoughtfully, then let out a long breath, a glimmer of
something, sadness maybe, in his eyes. “Want to call it an early night?” he oered.

“Get undressed, then,” she said soly. She turned and went to the bed, feeling many dierent
and mixed emotions. She was unsure whether or not they should consummate the new
marriage pact that night. She was eager to sleep next to Jon again, appreciating his presence
and extra warmth. She felt happy and relieved that they’d managed to maneuver the latest set
of obstacles in front of them. She loathed feeling in limbo, especially when it came to Jon, and
while she still felt a little like they were balancing on the edge of a sword, right now things
were good and she hoped they’d be able to relax into the good and nd rmer footing sooner
because of it.

She burrowed all the way under the blankets, hiding her face in the soness of her sheets.
She was still unsure, but when he slid into the bed with her, his hand gently running over her
hip to
hold her, she turned in his arms to look at him, becoming less uncertain the closer he got to
her. When he pulled her ush against him, she relaxed in his arms, her hesitance evaporating like
steam into the air.

He was looking at her, his face open and attentive. She brought her face to his, touching
noses, smiling at him before she brought her lips to his, sliding her hands under his shirt.
She could feel
him relax under her touch, skin to skin, and he hummed into her mouth when she invited him to
deepen the kiss.

Too soon, he was pulling back for air. “Daenerys,” he whispered against her lips. “I need to know
how far we’re taking this tonight. I need to know when to stop.”

She pulled back slightly, just enough to see his beautiful gray eyes looking at her. “I feel safe
with you, Jon. I’m not certain it’s the right thing to do, but I do want to. I need you. I don’t
want you to stop.”

He pulled her tightly against him, crushing her mouth with his, pulling desperately at the
strings of her shi, suddenly in a hurry to get her naked. Yes. She sat up and pulled it over her
head, returning to him in time to push his shirt o, sighing in pleasure as her bare breasts made
contact with his chest.

Jon held her awkwardly with one hand, stripping o his smallclothes with the other, unwilling to
give up contact with her for another moment. He kicked them o, leaving them buried under the
blankets somewhere at the foot of the bed before he grabbed her leg and brought it up over his
hip, pinning her to him.

He turned them slightly so she was at on her back, one leg around his waist. He kissed her, his
eyes squeezed shut, trying......he was trying to tell her something with his kiss. It felt a bit like
relief, and a lot more like love. He kissed her on the side of her neck, the spot she loved,
before moving to her shoulder, then down to her breast, then down her ribs, teasing her
navel briey before Oh, he’s going there already.

She let out a hu that was half laugh, half moan as he gave her a lick, tasting her. He pulled back
to look at her for a moment, her eyes meeting his briey before he looked down and dove for
her.

Her head slammed back into the pillow as he tried to eat her whole. She arched her back into

him, holding him with her legs around his shoulders, letting him feel and hear every ripple of
pleasure that wracked her body as he worked her with his mouth. It was a relief she didn’t need
to be so painfully quiet anymore while with him, and from the sounds he was making, he
realized it, too.

Frantically, Daenerys reached down to him, wanting his hands. Jon immediately laced his ngers
with hers, pulling her nearly into a sitting position by using her hands as leverage. She
couldn’t catch her breath, what he was doing she began seeing stars from lack of air, yet
she couldn’t
breathe, couldn’t concentrate, the pressure and pleasure building and building, Jon letting go of
her hands and pulling her by the hips roughly to his face, then nally, oh nally, her body began

to shake with her release, wave aer wave of intense, searing pleasure washed through her and
he let her go. She fell back against the bed and suddenly he was over her, inside her,
overwhelming her as she continued to orgasm around him.

He held himself up, only moving slightly, grinding against her to prolong her pleasure, loving
the rhythmic contractions squeezing him that made her breath hitch and heave. He nuzzled
his face into her neck, kissing her tenderly, rubbing his bearded chin against the so skin
there.

Dany reached up and held him around his shoulders, pulling him down to rest his body on top
of
hers for a moment of full body contact as she managed to catch her breath. He ran a hand
down his face, returning to her neck, running his tongue over her clavicle, tasting her sweat,
inhaling her warmth.

He lied himself o her a little to see her face. “Want to turn over?” he asked.

Daenerys smiled and shook her head. “I’m happy where I am,” she whispered, reaching
up to cup his face in her hands.
“Good,” he groaned out, leaning down to kiss her for just a moment before kneeling up on the
bed and wrapping her legs around his waist. She moved to sit up with him, but he gently
put one palm against her chest, holding her down. “Stay there,” he murmured. “I want to
watch you.”

She leaned back, watching him as he grabbed her behind the knees, bringing her legs together

and holding them snugly against his chest. Oh. She fought against the urge to close her eyes,
instead focusing on his face. She reached up and cupped her breasts for him to watch.

Instead of thrusting forward, Jon raised her hips slightly, then pulled them downward. Up and
down. The pressure inside was intense, her legs closed and squeezing him, not allowing him to
move in and out. She rolled her hips, wanting more. He spread his legs a little, giving her room
to move, and repeated his movement, guiding her up and then down, painfully slow. “How’s
that?” he asked, his voice a mix between whisper and groan.

“Good,” she gasped out. “So good.” She pinched her nipples, loving the long moan that
escaped his chest as she rolled her hips in rhythm with his hands on her.

He pulled back a little, then slammed into her, making her cry out. “Better,” he groaned out.

“More,” she whimpered, urging him. “More, Jon.”

He stopped the slow, vertical movements, instead tucking her knees under his arms and held her
hips still as he slammed into her again. She bit her lip, trying to keep quiet.

“None of that,” he said, his voice low and rasping. He reached a nger out and tapped her lips
soly, his tenderness the complete opposite of what their lower bodies were doing. “No
need for that. I want to hear you. Let them hear. I don’t care anymore. You shouldn’t, either.”

She released her lip before he slammed into her again, narrowly missing bringing blood. She
cried out again, unable to do more than grab at her breasts. He halted, panting. “Are you

opposed to turning over?” he asked.

She looked at him, blinking. It took a moment for his ask to register, but then she smiled
slowly as she lowered her legs from his embrace and turned over on her hands and knees.
She looked at him over her shoulder. “Like this?” she asked.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her roughly back, thrusting into her again, groaning loudly at
the feel of her as she cried out, circling his hips as he pressed as far into her as he could. It made
a
very pleasant ache bloom within her, so unlike.....Jon was erasing memories of earlier times,
replacing them with love and pleasure where fear and pain once were. She ground back
against him, gasping out with her movements, letting him hear her. He began to move faster,
then slower, before stopping for a few moments before starting again, driving her insane.
When he stopped yet again, she was on the edge, so close, so she reached down to touch
herself. She pressed her ngers against her swollen and sensitive button and she began to
come, crying out with it, nearly sobbing in her relief and pleasure, and she felt Jon behind her
start to pound her in a bone-jarring rhythm before he nally joined her, nearly yelling as he
began to pulse inside her, sending her into another orgasm as he did.

Her arms gave out, and she collapsed onto the pillows beneath her, barely able to turn her
head to the side so she could breathe. Jon leaned back, holding her hips up, keeping himself
rmly seated inside her as he gasped and panted, the last bit of him spilling into her.

“Gods, Daenerys,” he groaned out nally, slipping out of her, settling her gently on the bed
before moving to lay next to her. He pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his
chin, running his hands over her back and sides, letting her gasp and heave before she
caught her breath.

“There’s probably no doubt le out there .....” she began, but hued out a laugh instead of
nishing her thought.

“No,” he agreed. “We just need to be careful now . . . soon there will be questions I’ll take the
blame if we don’t conceive, Love. I’ll take it and be glad to do so.” He was trying to be
gentle and considerate, she knew it from the bottom of her soul. She couldn’t fault him for
it, but the words hurt all the same.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” she whispered.
She
buried her face in his chest. “Hold me for now, Jon. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

He sighed, she could feel it in his chest, and he held her tightly for a moment before
loosening his hold. “I’m just the man to do that,” he said quietly, kissing her gently on the top
of her head.
“I love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered, pulling back from him, kissing him on the lips, sighing.

“I’m one lucky, grateful man, Dany,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “Thank you for giving me
another chance. Thank you.”

She traced his collarbone with light, delicate ngers, ghting her tears. “I feel the same,” she
snied. “Just........don’t do that again. Don’t pull away, don’t leave me, Jon.”

He kissed her again, harder, before resting his forehead against hers. “I’ll do everything in my
power to do as you ask, Love. We still have a war to ght and win, and I will do everything I can
to keep us both alive.”

Easing himself out of bed in the early morning was one of the most dicult things Jon had
done in days. Daenerys was coiled around him, on top of him, and her hair was tangled under
his arm. He had to use the latrine, but he was determined to go and come back to bed without
disturbing her. It took several minutes for him to untangle himself, halfway grinning as she
murmured and
nally rolled over, away from him so he could move without pulling her hair or disturbing her
any further. He kissed her bare shoulder quickly before covering her with furs, grabbing his
pants and shirt from the oor. He dressed quickly in their front room so he wouldn’t make any
noise.
He closed their outer door before he started down the passageway, following it around and past
the Great Hall, which was still empty and cold in the early hours.
“King in the North!” boomed a loud voice behind him before he’d made it to his destination.
Tormund. Fuck. Jon cringed inwardly, bracing himself for the exuberant and mildly embarrassing
interaction he was sure was about to turned and waited for his friend to catch up to him and
follow him into the latrines.

“Nice, quiet night, eh Snow?” he asked, pulling himself out and pissing.

Jon shook his head, looking down and grinning as he did the same. There was nothing he could
possibly say to keep Tormund from talking, so he wisely decided to not give him any extra
ammunition.

“The Dragon Queen didn’t burn you alive, looks like,” Tormund continued, looking over at him, a
grin in his eyes as he appraised his friend.

“Indeed, she did not,” Jon answered, looking away. He faced the wall in front of him. “Anything
more I will not tell.”

Tormund laughed, buttoning up and then clapping Jon on the back, nearly knocking him over.
“Hope your small pecker didn’t leave her unsatised,” he laughed, leaning over to get a look at
Jon’s cock as Jon kept pissing.

“I WAS DEAD,” Jon emphasized, somewhere between laughter and frustration, nearly yelling
as he quickly nished and buttoned his pants. “You saw me when I was DEAD. At the Wall. It
was
cold. She wasn’t complaining, I’ll say that much.”

Tormund roared with laughter, turning to go. “We heard. She sounded rather happy, Jon. Keep
doing whatever you did, get her screamin’. At least you listened to me before.”

“What the fuck were you doing, pressing your ear to the door?” Jon demanded.

“I was checking to see if you still remembered where to stick it, I was going to come in and help,”
Tormund jested.

“I knew where to put it before you told me, at length, how to do it,” Jon shot back, shaking
his head and leaving the room. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Practice,” Tormund encouraged. “Every time she lets you near her. Make babies with her, Jon.
The world needs more dragons in it, especially if they look like her.”

Jon snorted, waving him o as he headed back to their private rooms. He grinned to himself,
thinking of what Tormund would have said if he knew just how many times he and Daenerys
had already ‘practiced’ coupling.

Ghost was sitting in their front room, silently panting, wagging his tail in greeting. “Oh, now
we’re friends, is that it?” Jon asked him. Ghost looked from him to the bedroom door. Jon
shook his head. “You’re not going in there. She’s sleeping and I want her to stay that way for a
bit longer.” Ghost yawned and curled up next to the re in the front room, his back to Jon.

Jon shook his head as he silently opened the door and made his way back to their bed.
Make babies I’m trying, my friend. We’ve got a war to win rst, then, gods willing, the
babies will
come.

He stood over Daenerys, watching her sleep for a moment before he shrugged out of his
shirt and dropped his pants. He slid back into bed, smoothing his hand over her hip and
turning her slightly so she would feel him and move into his arms. She did with a sleepy sigh,
making him smile as she wrapped one arm around his neck without waking, or so he thought,
until her leg came up over his hip and she pressed herself against his growing erection, warm
and wet. She hummed sleepily as she exed her leg, pulling him closer.

He kissed her forehead soly. “I thought you were sleeping,” he whispered.

“Hmmmmhmmmm,” she mumbled back, inhaling through her nose as she buried her face in his
chest.

He chuckled at her, then nudged her over onto her back, running his hand from her face down
to her breast, down to her navel, trailing all the way to the curls at her apex before circling back
the
way he’d come. Dany hummed and melted into his touch, letting him do as he pleased while she
dried in and out of sleep. She turned so she was facing away from him, pressing herself back
against him, wiggling her rear in his lap teasingly.

He grabbed her hips and held her tightly as he eased into her, no more foreplay needed. He
groaned out soly at her heat, and she arched in front of him, gasping out and coming fully
awake, grinding back onto him. He tried to hold on for her, he really did, but it was only a few
moments before he’d lost control, thrusting into her fast and shallow, nding his release. He
reached around and played with her soly before he withdrew, relieved when he felt her
begin to pulse around him and cry out with it. Thank gods.

Jon kissed her clumsily on the ear, then down her neck to her shoulder, his breath coming in hot
pants against her skin. He wrapped an arm around her waist as he leaned his head against the
back of hers, inhaling strands of her hair but he didn’t care. She whimpered slightly as he nally
withdrew from her, and he moved to lean on top of her so he could see her face.

“Good morning,” he murmured against her lips.

“Mmmm,” she hummed back, stretching. “I like this, waking up with you in the morning.”

“No more having to sneak around,” he whispered, agreeing. “No more leaving you in the
middle of the night for a cold tent.”

She shook her head, smiling at him. “I’m glad of that.”

“I love hearing you, too. We’ll have more of that,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows at her
before tickling her with his nose in her neck, his hand cupping her breast.
She giggled at him, looking away and scooting to the edge of the bed. He watched her as
she walked across the room to retrieve her clothes, admiring the curves of her body. She
seemed . . .
dierent somehow. He couldn’t put his nger on it, though. It could simply be that it had been
over two weeks since he’d last had her, or it could be the light in the room. He hadn’t really
had an opportunity to appreciate her body with natural light coming in from outside. If it had
been light out on the journey to Winterfell, she’d been mostly clothed when they’d coupled,
and in the darkness of her tent, the braziers had not been able to do her body justice.

She was magnicent, standing in nearly perfect prole, aware he was looking at her as she
pulled a clean shi over her head, tying the neckline closed before turning back to look at him.
She smiled soly. “Like anything you see, King in the North?” she asked coyly.

Jon grinned at her. “I see my wife looking at me with a smile on her face. I can’t think of
anything I’d rather see at the moment.”

“Well, your wife is about to invite a direwolf and Missandei in here to help her dress. You
might want to ” she gestured with her hand in a shooing wave. “At least put some pants on.”

He leaned back in the bed and grinned at her. “I’ll help you undress,” he teased.

“I said dress, not undress,” she claried. “I’m opening the door now, Jon.” She moved toward the
door.

He hopped up quickly and pulled on his pants, smallclothes forgotten as he buttoned and
tied the lacing, his cheeks burning. Missandei had accidentally walked in on them once while
still onboard the ship before they reached White Harbor, and he didn’t want her seeing him
naked again. They’d both been extremely embarrassed, though Daenerys had thought
nothing of it. Her two worlds were not meant to meet that way.

Ghost ambled in and took his place at Dany’s side of the bed, watching them reproachfully.
Daenerys reached out and lovingly stroked his face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to him. “But
you’re going to have to move to the front room for a bit. Jon’s going to sleep in here
with me now.”

Jon nodded. “It’s going to be noisy in here. You’ll nd quieter quarters outside.”

Dany made a sound of disapproval. “No, he’s staying in the front room, Jon. I’m not kicking
him out into the snow.”

“He’s a direwolf. He belongs outside. You’ve spoiled him into thinking he’s a bloody pet,” he
responded.

“I’d have Drogon and Rhaegal in here with me if I could, too,” she answered with a shrug.

“I’m sure you would,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t make it even a bit..right.”

Missandei tapped on the slightly open door. “Daenerys? Are you.”

“I’m decent,” Jon answered. “It’s safe.”

She stied her embarrassed giggle, then came in, nding Daenerys already seated and waiting
for help with her hair.

Jon grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, then his leather jerkin. He nished dressing,
then walked over to Dany, kissing her cheek soly. “See you at breakfast,” he said gently.
Tangent Chapter 9

 A/N: Get ready. I wrote this entire chapter this morning. It owed out like some magical
entity all it’s own, and I was just the instrument that put it to print. I had not intended this
AT ALL. Stay with me, dear readers.

Missandei arranged her hair in the simple Northern style braids, brushing out the rest of her
hair to form silky curls down her back and shoulders, then helped her to dress. Her gray woolen
dress, which was beginning to hang loosely on her, felt better and t better than it had. Already
she was putting on a bit of weight, regaining lost ground despite the cold. Normally, she
wouldn’t care to gain, but now wasn’t the time to worry about it. It was time to focus on
winning a war. Her gure ran in a far last place when it came to her current concerns.

A loud and raucous greeting roared up as she entered the Great Hall, cups raising and people
cheering as she blushed and looked toward Jon, who was smiling as he stood and pulled out
her chair, kissing her soly on the cheek in greeting, causing the crowd in front of them to
erupt in noise all over again before she sat down and he seated himself next to her. He rested his
hand on her arm for a moment aectionately before waving her plate over to be set down in
front of her. Her stomach opped, but readily she consumed the sausages before taking
inventory of the rest.
She watched Jon handle the mild teasing and taunts with grace and humor, actually grinning at
the whistles and gestures, even returning a few of them in good spirits, especially toward
Tormund. She smiled at him, watching him go from decorous with the Northern gentry to
much more interesting and expressive with the Wildlings in the Great Hall. When things
calmed
down a bit, he’d relaxed a little too, leaning back in his chair to watch her as she picked
through her food to eat her eggs and then the rest. It was going to take some time and
patience to get

back to eating properly, she could see that now, but it wasn’t as impossible as it had felt only
a few days before. Jon had said she wasn’t eating enough to keep her warm, and she knew
she
was going to need to stay warm on Drogon if they were going to be ying in the snow.

She’d already experienced how cold it could get up there when she’d rescued the men from
Beyond the Wall back to Eastwatch. She’d had diculty dismounting Drogon, her ngers and
legs grown sti with cold despite the dragon’s warmth beneath her. Ser Jorah had been the last
man still on Drogon when she fully realized her predicament. He’d carefully beaten the ice o
her coat, apologizing profusely as she grunted out in pain before coaching her down, catching
her as she slid into the icy snow below. He’d never faltered despite her oundering for purchase
on the

ice, simply picking her up by the back of her coat and half dragging, half carrying her into the
slightly warmer rooms of Eastwatch, nearly frozen through himself. She’d hid her tears as the
men had brought her soup and bread, seeing Jon fall through the ice over and over again,
knowing she would feel his loss for the rest of her life. When, by some miracle, Jon had
returned to her, she had directed Ser Davos to take him to her room where she waited for
him to wake, never wanting to take her eyes o him again.

She looked over at Jon now, and he turned and gave her a lopsided smile. “Tormund was
fucking with me earlier,” he said quietly, leaning close so no one else could hear. “He said he’d
been listening at our door last night.”

Dany looked at him, wide-eyed. “Do you think he actually had been?”

Jon snorted out a laugh and shook his head. “No. I doubt it. The Wildlings have a freer view of
sex, but he respects you a lot more in a dierent way than he does me. It was meant as more of
a jab at my abilities as a husband than anything else.”
Daenerys subdued her smile a little. “He doesn’t know you’ve had many opportunities to grow
your abilities in the past weeks, does he?” she asked, raising her eyebrow at him to tease him a
little.
Jon shook his head again. “I was very tempted, but no. He would keep the secret, but it’s
better to not risk someone overhearing.” He gave her that little half smile she secretly
loved, and he put down his fork. “He also told me to practice making babies with you every
time you let me near enough to you.”

She hued out a laugh, knowing no harm was meant. She mentally bit down on the unintended
sting and swallowed it down. “Well......as much as I love that kind of practicing with you, we
have other practicing that needs doing today. We’re taking Drogon and Rhaegal North.”

“How far North?” Jon asked, eyeing her.

“Over the Wall near Castle Black,” she said. “You need to see what it’s like going a further
distance in the cold.”

He looked pointedly at her plate. “You need to eat all of that and then some if you plan on
not freezing to death,” he said, breaking a hot bread roll in half and buttering it for her. He
pressed half into her hand and set the other on her plate. She cringed at how closely he’d put
the bread to the carefully sorted onions. She’d narrowed down the oending foods to discover
that it was mostly just those, so avoided the onions at all costs. She said nothing to him about
it and simply began to eat again, clearing her plate to his satisfaction, getting up and leaving
with a smile and nod to the rest of the breakfast celebrations.

She pocketed half of the roll and took it back with her to their rooms, taking it out and eating it
as she changed out of her clothes. She stood naked as she nished it, enjoying the warm air on
her body for a few moments as she looked at the layers of clothes she would need to put on.
She became immediately aware the moment Jon walked into their room, her skin tingling in
anticipation. She didn’t know how, but she knew he’d followed her for more reason than just to
get ready to brave the cold.

He eased his hand around her waist from behind, kissing her shoulder. “You should have warned
me you’d be naked,” he whispered in her ear gruy.
She snickered a little and resisted the urge to turn to look at him. “You’re in my room,” she
said instead. “I’m bound to be naked in it at least sometimes.”

Dany heard him pull the lacing from his shirt and the so sound of the fabric when it hit the
stone oor. “You’re going to be naked for a little bit longer in our room,” he murmured, pressing
his bare chest to her back. She closed her eyes as his hands came up to cup her breasts.
“You’re
warm,” he groaned out. She bit her lip to keep any sound from escaping her lips, knowing it
would tease him and drive him crazy. She swallowed heavily, but forced her lungs to slow her
breathing.

“It’s warm in here,” she answered, leaning back into him before turning her head to look at
him, his erection nudging at her through his pants. “Quick recovery,” she commented teasingly
as she looked down at him over her shoulder.

Jon shrugged, laughing a little as he untied his pants and dropped them to the oor, kicking
them away. “What can I say, except that I’m obsessed with my wife?” he asked, running his hands
down her hips and pulling her against him rmly. “I’m glad I can nally be with you out in the
open, Love.” One hand wandered down and began to touch her soly, running his ngers back
and forth against her slit the way he knew she liked. He’d learned that early on, locking it
rmly into his memory as soon as he’d discovered it. He’d been very attentive those rst few
nights, touching and watching her, learning to see what she liked best, knowing that he
would need to pay attention and know quickly how to change pace, angle, pressure
the nest
subject he’d ever studied. Daenerys. He hummed quietly against her shoulder as he took his rst
hit of her scent. The possibilities were endless with her; he was willing to try nearly anything as

long as she was willing, and he’d paid attention and so quickly learned what made her so.

Dany hummed in the back of her throat and leaned her head back on his shoulder, enjoying the
easy way he was warming her up, playing with her as she relaxed into his touch while he brought
her body to full attention.

Too soon, he was pulling his hand away, a disappointed sound slipping out of her before she
could stop it. He laughed soly, but turned her to face him and kissed her as he backed them
up to the bed. Jon lied her easily by the thighs, her arms wrapping around his neck as he
leaned forward and dropped her soly on the bed as she pulled him down with her. He kissed
her lazily before moving his mouth to her breasts. “You’re so warm,” he whispered again,
nuzzling one
nipple as he played with the other. She arched into him, sensitive and needful, ready for him.

Jon didn’t make her wait, either. He moved up to kiss her soly, easing into her as she panted
out a gasp as he hummed out a moan of appreciation against her mouth. “I love you,” she
whispered, kissing him along his chin, squeezing his hips with her legs, her arms around his
shoulders.

He captured her mouth with his, tugging at her upper lip as he ground against her, making her
whimper at the pleasure of it. “And I love you,” he whispered back, pulling back nearly all the
way before plunging into her again slowly. “You feel amazing,” he groaned out, propping himself
up on his elbows, cradling her beneath him, his hands tucked under her shoulder blades,
holding her close.

“Jon,” she whimpered, letting out a tremulous moan, moving her hips against him, the easy
and slow pace exactly what she needed. This wasn’t the frantic fucking they’d done last night,
nally reunited aer so many weeks apart, this was Jon making love with her. The dierence was
immense.

“Daenerys,” he answered, kissing her as he sped up their pace a little, groaning out loud
as she tilted her hips to meet his growing urgency, angling herself so every thrust was
causing friction where she needed it most. “Gods, Dany, yes.”

“Right there,” she cried out, unable to hold onto him any longer, feeling the pleasure mounting,
the pressure in her spine traveling downward and spreading through her hips, readying her for
the release about to unleash.

Jon obliged, pushing into her over and over, hovering on the edge himself, refusing to give into it
before she did. Gods, he was hard inside her, hitting every place she needed it, stroking her deeply
as she began to shake under him, throwing her head back as she cried out, her ngers digging
into his shoulders as her back arched o the bed to meet him as he followed her, coming long
and forcefully, groaning through gritted teeth as he pulsed in her, feeling her answering throbs as
her core contracted around him. Gods that was perfect. That almost never happens simultaneously
like that.
He fell forward onto her, heaving and panting, feeling her arms come up around his head,
holding him to her chest. Dany’s heart pounded under his ear, racing thunderously as her
chest heaved to suck in enough air, but slowly calmed as he caught his breath. Only then did
he pull away from her, hearing her delicious whimper as he slipped out of her. He kissed her
soly on the navel, then the sweet bit where thigh met hip, making her twitch and hu out.

Jon stood up and retrieved his pants. “We’ll need more layers than usual,” he husked out. He
refused to look over at her, sprawled on the bed as she luxuriated in the aermath of her
orgasm. If he looked, he was going to end up jumping on her again, and there were too
many things that needed to be done. Instead, he stalked over to the long table in the corner
and poured some water, taking it to her aer he drank.

She sat up and took it from him gratefully, nishing it. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed
that.”

He looked at her, tilting his face downward to eye her teasingly. “The water or....”

Dany laughed. “Both,” she answered. “I needed the water and the love.”

He leaned down and kissed her, taking the glass from her hand. “Let’s go have some fun,” he
whispered, reaching out his hand to help her up.

She washed herself a little at the copper basin set out for that purpose, then returned to the pile of
clothes to dress in the layer upon layer to ward o the permeating chill. She bundled her silver
fur coat on top, turning to see Jon watching her. She pulled her hair back and braided the end,
tying it o and smiling at him.

“You should wear your Khaleesi bells tonight at dinner,” he suggested. “Your kos would like that, I
think.”
She nodded. “I only wore two last night, they’re hard to get out when they get tangled in my
hair. I’ll have Missandei help me tonight with them.”

Jon pulled on his heavy cloak and grabbed an extra belt to tie it down around him once he was
outside. “Ready?” he asked, leaning over and kissing her gently. Ghost nudged Jon, ready to
go with him.

Dany smiled at them both. “Ready,” she echoed.

She followed Jon out to the gates of Winterfell, a crowd of people following them behind
Ghost. The dragons were still a marvel to the Northerners, and she was glad there seemed
to be no malice toward them. Ghost panted, sitting outside the gate. “Go hunt,” Jon said,
giving the direwolf an aectionate push. “You’ve been inside too much. Your pack needs their
leader to show up once in a while, right?” He pressed his forehead against Ghost’s muzzle.
“See you aer.” Ghost wagged amiably at him and trotted o, head and tail high as he
disappeared over a small rise in the hills, heading North.

Calling Drogon and Rhaegal came easily for her, so she had Jon call for them, coaching him on
how to concentrate on them as he used his mind to reach for the two dragons, asking for
Dany’s children to come home. Aer a few minutes, Jon shook his head. “I don’t think ”

Drogon suddenly called back to him, Rhaegal following closely, both ying low over Winterfell
toward them. She laughed a little. “You were saying something, Jon?” She reached out and laid a
hand on his shoulder, looking at him. “Well done. It’s times like this you should embrace being
Aegon Targaryen. You’re not one or the other. You’re still Jon, just more.”

He looked at her strangely for a moment, then pulled her into a warm kiss. “How do you know
what to say to make this seem like it’s perfectly natural instead of an identity crisis?”

She laughed at that, and kissed him back. “Because that’s exactly what it is,” she pointed out.
“I

think you were so stuck on the ‘either, or’ aspect instead of the ‘and, plus’ end of things that
none of it made any sense to you.”
Jon shook his head in amazement. “If you’d been a blacksmith hammering a sword ” he
trailed o, loving the sound of her laugh.

Walking directly to her dragons, Daenerys greeted them lovingly, gently stroking them both
while letting her mind tell them how much she loved them. They understood her mind and her
heart better than her words, anyway. She mounted Drogon, waiting for Jon to settle on Rhaegal
before they le the ground. She tied down her hood to protect her ears while she waited,
watching Jon tighten the belt around his cloak. She gave him a small smile and a wave before
Drogon began to run, his great wings spreading as his feet thundered on the snow and ice,
breaking through in some places, sending shards of ice ying through the air. Then there was
nothing, just the smooth slide into the clear, cold air. Her cheeks burned with the cold. She
looked behind her, seeing Rhaegal take ight, Jon easily able to hang on and talk to him.

She looked to the North. Toward the Wall. She’d been to Eastwatch, but not Castle Black. Jon had
friends there, and though they’d sent the raven to them yesterday warning them of the breach
at Eastwatch, it would do some good to go and connect with them to see what they needed
beyond what could be safely requested by raven. Silently, she spoke to Drogon, asking him to
take her there, feeling him shi direction slightly, easily turning in the icy wind.

Rhaegal caught up to them, and Daenerys indicated to Jon with a hand movement that he was
to watch their le ank while she took the right. She watched him for a moment, unable to see
him as well as she’d like from such a distance, the wingspans of Drogon and Rhaegal too great
to

allow any closer contact.

She guided Drogon to turn in the air, twisting and evading in a defensive movement as
Rhaegal play attacked them, laughing and enjoying the chase before they switched and
Rhaegal began to loop and evade them, showing o his superior agility while Drogon countered
with his size and strength, not unlike the two men they were named for, actually, she thought.

They played and fought long before the Wall came into view, stark and strange against the
horizon. Jon encouraged Rhaegal to go ahead of Drogon, intending to land, but Drogon was
not
having it, tensing under Daenerys strangely. He roared out at Rhaegal, and the smaller
dragon balked, ying nearly beneath his larger brother. Drogon veered le as they ew over the
Wall,
suddenly roaring out again, causing Dany to look to the right, her ank that she’d been
neglecting.

A split second before blue ames erupted in the air, she saw what had been her smallest and
sweetest child, now torn and ragged, bones showing through broken and rotting esh. Drogon
bellowed out ame in retaliation, evading the attack. Viserion, oh gods. My sweet baby, what
have they done to you?

Rhaegal immediately maneuvered behind them both in an instant, taking advantage of his smaller
size, setting the skies ablaze as he rolled in the air, chasing o the undead dragon and its rider.
Jon was yelling at Dany, but she couldn’t hear over the wind, Drogon diving away from them to
give chase, furious beyond measure. She hung onto him for her life, knowing that she wouldn’t be
able to call him o even if she tried.

Her eyes watered as the wind stung them, Drogon speeding through the sky, searching for
Jon and Rhaegal but not able to see behind her in the incoming snow that the Night King
oen brought with him.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. They were only supposed to go for a practice run, not
initiate battle. They weren’t prepared for this. Rhaegal appeared out of the corner of her eye,
level with Drogon but far to the le. He was managing to keep up, but he was pulling back, waiting,
as Drogon shied direction again, unrelenting in his speed.. She’d never felt him y this fast, not
even when they’d been ying to rescue Jon and his men. Drogon roared out beneath her, shaking
her to her very bones, half calling to his brother, half in outrage that he would attack them, their
mother.

The dragon that used to be Viserion turned in mid ight, twisting and forcing out blue ame at
them again, Drogon dely evading the attack while bringing them closer, nearly plowing them
over. Daenerys briey saw the Night King, his glowing blue eyes locking on hers before Drogon’s
claws reached out and grabbed Viserion as though he were a sh in the water, Rhaegal seizing
his opportunity, diving in and letting loose dragonre so hot it appeared white in the snow laden
sky.

The undead Viserion shrieked and tried to get away from Drogon as they spiraled downward in
their struggle, Daenerys barely able to hold on as she felt them plummeting toward the ground.
Drogon arched beneath her, getting ready, and she braced herself as he let loose re directly
onto Viserion and the Night King, the ames blasting back and licking at her, burning her clothes
o as they began to fall from the sky. She was blinded by the heat of it, unable to see anything
but the re surrounding her.

She could hear nothing but Drogon’s ames and Rhaegal’s fury, so she squeezed her eyes shut as
she clung to Drogon for her life, sending prayers up to gods she had never really believed in but
needed something to believe in to keep her fear in check. Drogon. Drogon would protect her.
She prayed to Drogon, to Rhaegal, and to Jon. There was a thunderous rending in the air, ripping,
tearing, and Drogon pulled back, taking another breath. As he did, the ames cleared for a brief
moment and she saw Rhaegal y upward, the back half of Viserion clutched in his claws. They’d
torn their own brother in half. She bit back her scream of horror, her heart breaking for her lost
beloved.

The Night King was still on Drogon’s half. She was able to glimpse how close to the ground
they were, nearly over the Fist of the First Men, the treeline below them much closer than
she liked. They’d gone much further North than she’d anticipated. She shivered, her coat
halfway burnt o, but it didn’t last as Drogon let loose another mighty blast of re, warming her
as her clothes burnt. The thing that used to be Viserion shrieked beneath them, still
struggling to get away. For a brief moment, she could see Rhaegal setting re to his half of
Viserion, watching it crumble to ashes and fall to the land below. She gritted her teeth. The
time for grief is later. Not now. She forced all emotion from her mind, focusing on what was
happening.

She couldn’t see anything below her, but felt Drogon nally land on the rocky outcropping,
pinning Viserion beneath him. Drogon let out a mighty roar and began his ames anew, this time
Rhaegal joining in as he landed next to them to aid his bigger brother. Jon. She chanced a
look over at them, Jon’s face obscured by his heavy cloak now loose and ragged. He’d been
in dragonre and lived.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of him, but was jarred in the struggle happening
beneath her, Jon shouting to her as she fell from Drogon’s back, tumbling over his wing and
she was in free fall for several moments before she hit the snow, narrowly missing trees and
rocks. A searing pain wracked through her as the wind was knocked from her lungs. She
heaved and
struggled for breath, unable to move, her body in shock for several minutes that felt like years
before she was able to suck in a breath.
She fought the black spots in front of her eyes, blinking ercely as she gasped for breath, seeing
Drogon y upward once again, his great jaws tearing another piece o Viserion as they rose in
the air, Rhaegal following, setting the carcass alight before rending another section of
Viserion apart. They were ghting over him, she realized in her rst moment of clarity. She
could see the Night King, still clinging to the once again dead remains of Viserion, but
soon became obscured by Rhaegal’s ame and nally, his teeth. A ash of blue light exploded
over them all, then the snow was blowing ercely around them, swirling for a moment before
dying down almost completely.

Ashes began to fall around her, turning the snow grey and black with the remains of her child.
She closed her eyes as she lay back in the snow, concentrating on breathing, feeling the bite of
the cold through the burnt holes of what was le of her clothes. Another pain overcame her,
low in her back and hips. She moved her hands, taking inventory of her body, moving each
appendage slowly before assuring herself it wasn’t broken or missing. Her head pounded, but
she could move her neck, her head, all the way down to her toes. The snow had saved her, had
broken her fall.

She looked around, her mouth going dry and her body shivering at how close she’d come to
falling on the rocks to her le. She reached out with trembling ngers and rested her hand on one.
To her right was a small stand of pines, green and snow laden, as equally dangerous as the
rocks. She’d dropped in such conplete and coincidental safety she wondered briey if there truly
were gods who had heard her prayers.

Another pain seized her, and she arched her back with it, screaming out. She felt a warm gush
between her legs. She closed her eyes, afraid she’d peed herself in her shock, but no, it didn’t
feel like that at all. It was thicker, stickier. It stayed warm longer than piss would in this cold. She
rolled out of the deep hole in the snow, looking down and seeing blood. Another rush of pain
and another gush of blood as she bit her lip against the pain. She ripped what was le of her
pants o, reaching down in time to catch the little bubble of water and blood leaving her body,
the tiny baby she hadn’t even known she’d been carrying now dead in the palm of her hand,
already freezing solid in the cold.

Her mind went as white as the snow falling around her. A baby. There had been a baby. Her baby.
Jon’s baby. The fall had killed it. All that time they’d spent ghting over her not being able to
have a child, and she’d been pregnant the whole.....Pain stabbed through her, but no further
waves of blood followed. Her heart hurt to the point she didnt know whether to scream
or just lay back and let the cold take her.

Carefully, with shaking hands and blurred eyes, she put the little frozen bubble down on the rags
of her pants and vomited into the snow before she began to cry into the snowy ground under
her, letting the Fist absorb her tears and Targaryen blood, where the blood of the Andals and the
First Men had spilled long ago.

Drogon screamed for her, feeling her pain, searching the ground for her. She closed her eyes,
calling him, knowing he would nd her and that Jon and Rhaegal would follow. Jon. Oh gods, Jon.

Drogon landed on the cli above her, no room to land anywhere below. He called her, his trill
both gutteral and anxious at his inability to reach her, turning to roars the longer she didn’t
come to him.

Rhaegal called back, able to navigate the small clearing between rocks and trees more easily,
landing near her, Jon yelling at her from his back, unable to get to her as quickly as he wanted
to.

The black spots were back, obscuring her vision as Jon suddenly loomed above her,
wrapping his shredded cloak around her. She pointed toward her pants, “Don’t forget
............................................................................................................................................. ” she whispered,
but
the black spots were throbbing and growing, nally overtaking her.
Tangent Chapter 10

Warmth. She was warm. Her body ached and throbbed, her head pounded terribly, but she
was

warm. No more burning snow, no more shivering cold making her muscles scream. Ashes falling
around her. She dried for a moment, then she realized she was going to be sick. She managed
to weakly turn her head before she vomited. Warm and soothing hands with wet cloths came
to clean her, their words slurring together unintelligibly as she was moved out of the mess with
gentle hands and washed clean. The soap . . . it smelled of grass and owers ...... the purple
stalks
of owers in the sandy dirt . . . waves and waves of grass, as far as she could see ..... dry, golden
grass . . .

“Daenerys,” someone said, calling her soly from quite near. Her own someone. Her Jon.
Jon. She wanted to open her eyes for him, but all she could do was cry great, wracking
sobs, her

chest feeling as though it were coming apart in her pain and grief. Viserion. Jon’s baby. Not
even big enough to know if it was a boy or a girl. Lost. All of it, lost forever.

“Come on, Love,” Jon cajoled, calling to her again, just as soly as before. Her heart broke
all over again at his tenderness, one of his warm and loving hands stroking her cheek
while the other held hers as someone else nished cleaning her up. “Open those beautiful eyes
for me, Dany. Let me see you.”

“Let me die,” she whimpered, turning away as the tears ran down her face, unable to bear

even thinking about facing him. I killed his baby, this is my own fault, I should have been

hanging on . .
. paying attention to Drogon instead of him and Rhaegal. We should never have gone. Jon’s little
baby was inside me, growing and safe until I fell . . .“I can’t.it hurts too much.”

“Where does it hurt?” he asked, his voice turning from so to panicked. “I thought you said
she hadn’t broken anything!” He’d turned his head to yell. Her pounding head thanked him
for it.
“She hasn’t, Your Grace,” another voice said.

“Where does it hurt, Love?” Jon asked again. She moved her hand from his and then rested
it
over her heart, pressing the heel of her hand into her skin, unable to form the words to
adequately tell him how much, how deeply it hurt inside. She felt him sigh against her skin,
then he was liing her, holding her.

“Give us a minute,” Jon said, his voice sounding loud in his chest. He was providing her with
privacy so she could do whatever she needed to do to cope with everything, and she loved
him for it, loved him for being with her when she so desperately needed him. She was safe. He
was warm. She burst into new tears, and she heard the other people in the room leave, the
door creaking closed. She cried and clung to him, choking on her tears and gasping for air, but
he held onto her through it all, whispering gentle words to her, kissing her face and hair in his
eorts to comfort her. He threaded his ngers through her loose, tangled curls, cradling her
throbbing head against him securely, rocking her slightly as he let her cry.

She fell asleep against him aer she’d completely exhausted herself, trusting him to hold her. She
felt nothing and had no dreams to disturb her, though she didn’t feel rested at all when
she woke again, much later. She opened her eyes slowly, taking in the familiar sight of the
bedroom she shared with Jon. They were in Winterfell. He’d brought her all the way home.
She broke out
in a cold sweat, then leaned over the bed far enough so she wouldn’t foul it, and vomited.

Missandei was rushing at her, too fast, so fast, Jon grabbing her and holding her around the
waist so she didn’t fall out of the bed. A wave of voices, then she was sick again, the world
swirling around her, Jon her only anchor in the insanity.

Cold. Something cold on her head, wrapping around as her head pounded as though a
blacksmith was hammering away at a billet in there. She could feel Jon’s arms around her,
pulling her up and holding her against his chest. As the cold slowly sank into her, past the
hammering, she breathed in relief, the smithy seemingly muted and further away for the
moment. She let out a quiet groan as she relaxed against Jon, going limp against him, unable
to tell him in any other way that it was bringing her relief.

“It’s working,” Jon said quietly. “We need more.”

She cautiously reached up to touch her head, what was being held against it. She felt a
rough cloth wrapped around chunks of ice. He was holding ice to her head, holding it
against her
bruised and tender scalp as gently as he could. She’d hit her head at some point, but
couldn’t remember when. She closed her eyes again, Jon’s scent surrounding her, soothing
her raw nerves and overwhelmed brain. He’d bathed since the smoke and ash and the
scent of
dragonre absent from his clothes and skin.

“Your Grace,” a voice said, looming from her other side. “Do you remember what happened?
Where you were? Do you know where you are now?”

She pressed her face against Jon for a moment before she spoke, her words halting but
coherent. “We were . . . we le Winterfell for the Wall, we were heading for Castle Black . .
.
Viserion intercepted us, Drogon chased him all the way to....I think we were all the way up to
the Fist . . . a rocky cli . . . when they fought. I lost my grip and fell. I could see ...... everything,”
she sighed out. “They killed the Night King. Rhaegal tore him apart. They killed Viserion
again. Burned him to nothing. Ashes, ashes everywhere . . . Jon ”

“I’m here,” he whispered, holding her.

Missandei was giving her water to wash out her mouth, wiping her face gently. Dany
reached for her, and her friend came willingly, wrapping her so and comforting arms
around her as Dany began to cry all over again. “I know,” she whispered, pressing her cool
cheek against Dany’s hot forehead. “Only the people in this room know you lost two
children up there, not just the one.”

Jon’s baby . . . “Did you bring. .” she began, looking to Jon, but he was shaking his head sadly
at her. “Drogon burned.......” he began, but couldn’t speak further, burying his face in her hair. His
breath was hot and heavy, ragged in her ears. He’s crying. Oh gods, Jon’s crying, too. She felt
like she was dying inside, their double loss more than she could bear. She pulled away from
them both, but the maester was there, holding the bowl under her face in time for her to be
sick again, Jon holding her hair back, Missandei bringing more water for her to drink. She was
down to yellow bile, her stomach empty, but her head Her head pounded, and she reached
for the
cold cloth again, pressing it against her head herself.
The maester came back into focus. He held a cup of milk in his hands, a silent oering, holding
no judgement, just an acceptable form of aid should she choose to take it. Sweetsleep. He
didn’t
need to do anything more than show it to her, she was gladly leaning forward, grateful for the
chance to sleep, grateful to escape the hell she’d woken to. She shuddered at the
sweetness of it, nishing the drink quickly, leaning back into Jon’s arms. She felt it begin to
work almost immediately, calming her breath, her heart slowing, her eyes closing as her
mind became as calm as the lake she’d come to love in Vaes Dothrak wave aer wave
of grass in an endless
sea, the warm Summer breeze making the stalks dance and whisper . . .

Jon breathed a silent sigh of relief as Daenerys dropped o in his arms, cradling her gently,
selshly, before easing her down onto her so pillows and tucking her in, kissing her soly on
the forehead. “I love you,” he whispered.

Jon looked to Missandei, then the maester, nally to Sansa crying in the corner and trying to
hide it behind her hand over her mouth, but he could see the tears rolling down his
sister’s cheeks, and it started him o all over again.

Sansa came to him, sitting next to him on the bed, pulling him into her arms and hugging
him tightly, letting him cry with her. “She woke up, Jon. She nally woke up, she was
coherent, she remembered Focus on that,” she whispered to him, hugging him and rocking
him. “Now
she’ll sleep for the night, probably all tomorrow, too. It’ll give her head time to heal. She’ll
wake again tomorrow.”

“Will she remember today?” Jon asked, looking toward Maester Wolkan.

He nodded. “She will. It won’t take away any memories, all it does is calm the body and
mind to sleep,” he said quietly. “I don’t know if that’s a comfort or not, Your Grace.”

Jon leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. He rubbed
his eyes and sucked in a breath. “It’s the middle of the night,” he said quietly, looking at them
all once again, calmer this time. “I’m going to bed and I suggest everyone else do the same. I’ll
wake you if needed.”
Sansa looked at him, studying his face. “Promise? You’ll wake me if you need me?”
He nodded, looking her squarely in the face. “I promise.”

She leaned forward and hugged him again before reluctantly standing. “All right. I’m taking
you at your word, Jon.”

One by one, he watched them le out of the bedroom, leaving him with only a few lit candles
and the re in the replace. He didn’t bother undressing, simply pulling the extra blanket up
from the foot of the bed to cover him as he leaned over to kiss Daenerys one more time
before curling himself around her to sleep. He prayed he’d be able to sleep at all.

He stared at her hair in the dim light, watching it shi from gold to silver and back again.
He’d had to burn their baby’s remains. Drogon had done it for him, though Jon had been too
shaken to even ask it of him, and he would be forever indebted to the dragon for knowing
what had been needed. He’d even searched for ashes to bring home to the crypt, but there
was nothing le, try as hard as he had.

Drogon had known his mother was hurt, he’d lowered his whole body so Jon could carry her,
limp and bleeding, up to him and onto his back. He immediately ruled out going to Castle
Black, they were still without a maester and would be of no help to Dany, so he bypassed it
from a great height, taking her directly home. Together, they managed to get her there, Jon
hoping that Rhaegal going ahead of them would send up an alarm as he’d landed riderless.

Indeed it had, it seemed half the population was waiting when Drogon circled and glided
down to the ground, Jon hanging onto Dany securely until Tormund and the Hound broke
through the crowd, helping him get Daenerys down and inside, Tormund cradling Daenerys as
though she were merely a sleeping child, wrapped in Jon’s cloak like a blanket.

It was then, when Maester Wolkan was examining her that the bruise and lump on her head
had been found. She’d missed the rocks in her fall, but had managed to graze the side of her
head at some point on the way down.

Jon had demanded to know when she would regain consciousness, but no one could answer
him. He’d stayed with her for hours, people coming and going who he felt really didn’t belong

there, nally saying something, he couldn’t recall what, to Sansa. She’d promptly kicked them all
out, save the maester and Missandei, herself and Jon. They waited together for hours. Food
was brought, but Jon couldn’t bear the smell of it, telling the others to take it to the front
room, away from her.

As the day turned to night, the maester began to gently warn Jon of the dangers of being
unconscious for so long, that it might be that her last moments of being awake had already
passed. Jon had yelled then, nally angry and grief stricken to the point he was throwing things,
sending the maester out of their quarters entirely before Sansa and Arya could intervene.
He’d immediately gone back to the place he’d occupied for hours, sitting on his side of their
bed, near enough to touch her but letting her rest undisturbed.

Tyrion had come, managing to get Jon to leave Dany to rest while they talked. He pressed Jon
for details of what had happened. He asked if the Wall had been broken down entirely, or if it
had
simply been breached over hundreds of miles away at Eastwatch. Jon had told him that the
Wall at Castle Black seemed intact, and had seen men on the Wall and in the yard below as
they’d
own over, moments before the unexpected attack.

“We wouldn’t have gone if we’d known,” he said, staring at the re. “We weren’t even
scouting. We were sparring and we were going to see the men at Castle Black to give them
the lastest plans, then the attack came. We didn’t even see it coming until Viserion was on
top of us.
Drogon was so ..... he was rage in action. There was no way Daenerys could have called him o
the ght. I’m certain she tried. I’ve never seen anything move like that, so fast and ANGRY.” Jon
looked at Tyrion. “We weren’t ready, we weren’t watching our backs, and we’d gone straight into
the trap. Daenerys fell, Rhaegal and Drogon were ripping Viserion and the Night King to shreds,
between the two of them they somehow ripped him in half and then there was a bright light,
snow like I’ve never seen before, and then .... nothing. Empty air, Dany down the cli.” Jon
stopped there, unable to tell the rest, not even once more.

“Perhaps we ought to let Maester Wolkan come back in,” Tyrion suggested gently. “Get Sansa
and Missandei, anyone whose voice she’d recognize favorably. Talk in there, to her, amongst
yourselves, something. Give her something to come back to.”
Hours later, she’d moved, letting out a high pitched, keening cry before she came to, and thats
when she’d started getting sick. Maester Wolkan had prepared them for that, with her head
as
hurt as it was. Jon was so relieved she’d woken up at all that he could barely stay out of the
way as they cleaned her up; he wanted her, needed her, had to touch her and hold her.

She’d turned to him, too, turned and cried and he’d cried with her, so fucking relieved and
sad and grateful all mixed together. He held her until she’d fallen asleep, completely
exhausted, and he’d held her for a long time aer, feeling her slow and even breaths, her
heart steadily beating, her reassuring warmth. The rest of the world had stopped, as far as
he was concerned.

Now, Jon stared at her face as she slept, all her worries beyond her care for at least a few
more hours. She would rest, she would heal. They could try again. His heart hurt that they’d
lost the baby, but they could try again. He wondered if it had happened right away, or if it
had been
aer they were already on the road to Winterfell. He’d wait until she was rested and
recovered, of course, and he’d wait as long as she asked him to, but they would try again.
He wanted nothing more, would strive for nothing less. He would carry his hope deep
within, never telling a soul. He swore to himself right then and there that there would
always be hope.

Late the next aernoon, the darkness already falling on the outside world, Dany began to stir. He
opened their bedroom door, permitting the maester and Missandei to enter, Sansa and Arya
following.

Jon watched as his wife slowly came awake, opening her eyes and looking around the room at
them all before nding Jon. She gave him a small, sad smile, likely mirroring the one that was on
his own face at that moment. Maester Wolkan looked into her eyes, had her track his ngers and
answer a few questions. He looked to Jon. “Her Grace is recovering well. Another day or two in
a dark room with no strong scents or light should have her ready to stand up without aid. Her
head needs rest.”

“We have a war to win,” Dany said quietly. “I have an army to lead.” She moved to get
up, but the maester gently guided her back down to her pillows. “I have to lead them ”
“Scouts from Eastwatch sent ravens,” Jon answered her. “The Dothraki have already le to go to
their aid. Your kos wasted no time in gathering weapons and supplies; they le the day we
arrived back home. The Unsullied are already marching.....”
“How many days have I lost?” she asked, her voice small and a little bewildered.

“Three, Your Grace,” the maester answered.

“Three days,” she whispered. She made to sit up again, Jon stepping through everyone to
reach her, helping her up, holding her steady. “I’m hungry,” she said.

Jon’s body sagged in on itself for a moment in sheer relief. “We’ll get you.......” he began, but Arya
was already out the door and running on her light feet down the corridor. He looked at Dany
and smiled a little. “Your sister’s got it covered.”

He was aware that Sansa was ushering everyone out, and he breathed a sigh of relief. They
would rarely get a private moment like this again, even when the war was done, he
suspected.

She looked at him again, her eyes so incredibly sad he didn’t know what to do. “Jon,” she
whispered nally. “It happened.”

He nodded, his own words stuck in his thickened throat. “I know,” he said. He took her hand and
kissed it before he pressed it to his cheek.

“Even aer......everything.”

He just kept nodding, not knowing what to say or do. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t bear to
see her look so sad, wouldn’t be able to keep himself in check. He knew he needed to give her
this time to be vulnerable and grieve, she wouldn’t allow it of herself later, now was not the time
for him to fall apart, too. He knew he needed to be her strength, something he would do
everything in his power to give.
She began to say something, but stopped herself before the words could form. She took a deep
breath. “Jon,” she said. “Look at me?” There was an edge to her voice, one he didn’t like at all.

His eyes snapped up to hers, seeing the anxiousness and sadness melt away as he did. She
needed him to see her. He pulled the hand he was holding against his face to his lips, kissing her
palm soly. He waited, giving her time to gather her thoughts, and it gave him time to just
breathe with her, together. He’d damned near lost her.

“I need us to try again,” she nished, tears in her eyes, but Jon could see something more . . .
hope. Even through all the shit they’d just been through, the struggles, the tears, the ghts, and
agony . . . even death......she’d found hope somewhere in there in all that fucked up mess, and
suddenly Jon realized he wouldn’t change a damned thing if it meant she was going to look
at him like that, if she was going to let hope back into her heart and make room for it to
grow.

He nodded, smiling through his burning eyes. “As soon as you’re feeling better, Love. I swear it,
if it’s in my power to give, consider it done.”

She leaned against him then, letting out a deep breath. “I’m scared,” she admitted.

“I won’t tell anyone; that’s our secret,” he answered, kissing her gently on the top of her
head. “I’m so fucking proud of you right now.”
Tangent Chapter 11

Jon moved their maps and carved sigil pieces from the Great Hall to their outer
chamber, crowding what was le of the war council in Winterfell into their room,
leaving the door open
 just a crack so she could hear everything clearly without it violating her rest orders. The Night
King’s remaining White Walkers were evading their armies somehow, not decimated by the
Night King’s demise as they’d hoped and expected, and they were making as many dead men
rise as the living made fall, replacing their numbers as they moved. She listened intently,
gathering what information she could, her mind working on solutions even though her head
hurt so badly she could barely li herself o the pillow.

The meeting nally convened, and by then she knew what Jon was going to do, likely before he
knew it himself. He came to her aer everyone had le, nding her standing in the middle of the
room, shaking her head at him slowly, tears of outrage and helplessness falling. “You won’t,” she
said simply, her voice trembling with her emotions. She hated it, hated how weak she sounded.
“You cannot......No.”

Jon had gritted his jaw, the muscles jumping and exing beneath his beard. She could see his
sts clench and unclench at his sides; he had already been revving up for an argument with her,
and he was prepared to stand his ground. She weighed her options carefully, none of them
favorable. Her head was screaming in agony, but she wasn’t about to back down. They were in a
silent stando.

“I am going,” he said rmly, his voice level and she could tell he was forcing it to be calm. “You
are staying.”

“I’ll go if I please,” she answered, snapping at him before closing her eyes against the pain in
her head. She could hear him walking toward her, so she opened them again to see him.
Jon, gods, don’t leave me, you can’t leave me here to worry every moment that I’m never
going to see you again, you can’t, you can’t . . .
His grey eyes were both resigned and adamant. He looked at her carefully. “You’re hurting

yourself,” he said, his nger coming up to touch her lightly under her le eye. “ The pupil in this
one’s gone bigger again. Sit for me, Love.” He took her rmly by the elbow and guided her back
to the bed.

“I’m not some weak little girl for you to wrap in silk and leave behind, Jon,” she warned him,
pushing him back, refusing to sit down, irritated that he was treating her so patronizingly.

“I never said you were, Daenerys. There’s no way I possibly could even think that,” he answered,
his voice maddeningly patient and calm. “You’re the exact opposite of a weak little girl. You’re
a warrior, a conquerer, our Queen, you’re the Dothraki Azor Ahai for fuck’s sake, and you’ve been
injured in battle. It would be the same if you’d been a knight and broke your sword arm. You’re
not t to ght at the moment and the world needs you to live. Sit this one out for another week.
There’s plenty of battles le to ght, and you’ll be ready to ght the ones to come.”

“I need you to live, have you thought of that?” she demanded. Jon could almost hear a
dragon’s hiss in her voice, laden with seething anger and hurt. “I can’t send you out there
without me to watch your back.”

“You’re going to have to trust in me,” he said simply. “Trust Rhaegal. Trust Drogon, Love. They’ll
be with me.” Gods, she’s furious. It would do no good to tell her how beautiful she is right
now, her delicate little dragon nostrils ared, violet re coming from her eyes oh shit. He
caught
her by the elbows before her knees buckled, simply liing her and placing her on the bed. “This.
This is precisely why you’re staying. Drogon can’t ght and balance you on his back at the same
time, Love. I don’t expect you to like it, not even a bit, but this is how it must be.”

In the end, she’d kissed him goodbye in their front room, both hating and understanding why
she was being le behind. She watched him call the dragons from their bedroom window,
watched as he spoke to them both before mounting Rhaegal and ying away. “Come back to me,
Jon,” she whispered, reaching up to touch the glass. “I love you.”

She spent the next amount of immeasurable time sleeping, listlessly wandering from room to

room as she waited for her head to heal. Sansa came and went, sometimes doing nothing more
than bringing her sewing into Dany’s room and sitting next to the window for the best light,
both
of them comfortable enough with each other that they needn’t say anything at all.

Aer Jon had been gone for nearly four days with no direct word, Tyrion came to her. “We have
someone to see you,” he announced gently. “And before you see him, I want to personally vouch
for him. Please don’t kill him, he has valuable news for you and he wishes to bend the knee in
person.”

Daenerys eyed her Hand, her head beginning to throb already, but it was a dull, annoying
pain, easily ignored. Finally, she nodded wearily, sitting down in the front room near the re.
She waved her hand for him to let in the guest.

She looked to the re briey, then looked up to see Jaime Lannister in front of her. Oh for fuck’s
sake. Did it have to be him? The pressure in her head began to grow in warning, but it receded
as he simply looked at her and then dropped to one knee. “My Queen,” he said in greeting,
bowing

his head.

“Ser Jaime Lannister of the Usurper’s Kingsguard, brother to the false queen, the Kingslayer,” she
acknowledged coldly. “Quite handy with a spear, or attempted to be, if I recognize you correctly.
Lucky for me, you’re worse with a spear than a sword.”

“I’ve come to ght for the living and to pledge myself to House Targaryen and the rightful Queen
of the Seven Kingdoms,” he said. “Drogon bested me in one on one combat, and I shall not
challenge his mother again. Forgive me, My Queen.”

She looked at him for a long moment, pondering the man in front of her, the things she’d heard
about him, countering and balancing it with what Sansa’s Lady Knight had said in his defense,
apparently his character much changed since losing his sword hand. Mortality, it seemed, had
nally caught up with Jaime Lannister, and for that she could see something of herself in him.
The past is the past. He may have been my father, but he was a madman. Killing Aerys was
murder, but a mercy for thousands more. A desperate act by a desperate teen boy tired and
frightened of watching men scream as they burned to death. Now was not the time to go into
all that. Sorting it later will be better for all involved. “Arise, Lord Lannister of Casterly Rock. We
have need of you, as complicated as your presence here may be. My lord Hand says you bring
news?” she nally asked.
He nodded, standing again. “Yes, Your Grace. My sister has plainly said she will send no
armies, and she sent Euron Greyjoy to recall the Golden Company to Westeros. She means to
use them to ght you for the Throne.”

Daenerys looked toward Tyrion. “How many men are in the Golden Company?” she asked.

Tyrion looked from her to Jaime. “Current numbers?” he asked.

“Some ten thousand if Cersei is to be believed,” he answered. “Take that as you will.”

Tyrion weighed it in his mind for a long moment, eyes closed as he concentrated. “We may

need to plan for that many, possibly more, if she had any idea you were about to betray her,”

he said
nally. “If we add Euron’s eet to it ......”

“What should I do from here, then?” she asked listlessly, her head beginning to pound again,
engulng her ears with its painful percussion. She leaned over, propping her elbow on her chair
so she could cradle her head in her hand. “Wait for them, just as I’m doing now?”

Tyrion gave her a look before he ushered Jaime to the door, telling him to wait in the Hand’s
chambers for him. He turned from the closed door and spoke to her gently. “We’ll plan as we
can
from here, Your Grace,” he began. “For the immediate future, I suggest you take some rest.”

“I’ve been resting,” she snapped irritably, unable to keep from closing her eyes against the
pain. “What I need is more information on the Golden Company, my Lord Hand. What I need is
for this headache to nally go away. I want Jon to come back with my dragons. I want I
want out of
this room you’re holding me in.”
“Your husband, our King, le you in my care with very specic instructions. I plan to follow those
instructions out of my deep respect for him and my respect and admiration for you,” Tyrion
answered, his tone insistent. “Take some rest,” he urged.
She stood, wavering on her feet, her pride failing her as she nodded slowly, hating every
moment. “I’d like Missandei to keep me company,” she said, turning and opening her bedroom
door. “Come to me with any news from the front. I need to know Jon is safe.”

Jon scanned the horizon from Rhaegal’s back, trying to solve the riddle of the dead. More and
more of them kept coming, their numbers uctuating depending on how many arrows the
Dothraki could retrieve, how much sport they found in killing small groups in skirmishes in
rogue groups, but the result was always the same. They would march into the valley, reach a
certain point, then just stop. They were waiting, amassing at the edge of The Gi near Long
Lake.
Some fought back when provoked, but there was something not right at all about it and it
bothered Jon. He wished for Daenerys. She would be able to think it through, between her
and Tyrion, and come up with a solution. Describing the situation in detail to her by raven was
an impossible task. He’d have to go himself, and he’d need to think of a way to do it without it
looking like he was abandoning them all. He was well aware that strategy wasn’t his strong
suit, he was more able with a sword in his hands, and now, a dragon beneath him.

He focused on Rhaegal, wordlessly asking him to take him down. He’d ask Dany’s kos and the
lords arriving on the battleeld to spread the word that he was going to retrieve their Khaleesi
and Queen. He needed her help, and he looked skyward for a moment, sending up a hope
that she was well enough to endure the road ahead. He just hoped he could get to Winterfell
before nightfall.

Daenerys was still awake when the door to the outer room opened, curled up in front of the re
on the fur rug, reading a book, her headaches much easier to tolerate in order to read. “Is that
you, Ghost?” she called. “I le the door open for you.”

Heavy, familiar footsteps came to the door, and Jon was there, pushing it open, tossing his heavy
fur cloak and heavy gloves onto a nearby chair, letting them fall onto the oor when they didn’t
stay. “I am denitely not Ghost,” he stated, giving her a half smile.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and dropped the book. “Jon!” she gasped, reaching for him
and standing when he held his hands out to help her up. She cupped his face in her hands and
kissed him, melting into his arms as he held her and kissed her back for a moment before
pulling away to look at her. He smelled of campres and the wind.
He held her face in his hands, studying her, looking into her eyes, checking them. “Are
you feeling better?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It comes and goes,” she said. “It’s not nearly as bad as it was, though.”

Jon nodded slightly. “I need you, Love. We need you. Something’s happening out there and I
can’t gure it out. I need your eyes and your mind.”

“We ought to call Tyrion as well, then” she suggested. “Two minds are better....” He nodded,
then le to send someone to call Tyrion before coming back to her, helping her put on her
heavy robe, tying it closed before kissing her soly. “We His brother, Jaime, is here,” she said,
turning to look at him, uncertain how he would react.

His eyes darkened and she reached out to make him release his sts, holding his hands tightly in
hers. “He’s bent the knee, Jon,” she whispered, trying to talk him down. “We’ve yet to talk
about the past, we’re focusing on what’s happening right now. We’ll come to that, I’m
sure, and it involves all of us. Let’s ght to live, then we’ll decide.” She felt him tense for a
moment longer, then he let it go.

“You’re being far more forgiving than I thought you would be and it’s so far beyond what he
deserves,” Jon growled.

“I know,” she agreed quietly. “It’s in the best interest of everyone if we postpone.......things like
that in order to have as many men as possible to ght.”

“Keep him away from me,” Jon replied, more steel in his voice than she’d ever heard. “I’m
not nearly as kind hearted or forgiving as you are.”

“He did apologize for his attempt to lance me,” she pointed out lamely, realizing how ridiculous
it
sounded as soon as she said it. “I don’t even know why I’m defending him, Jon, but maybe . .
.

maybe if he hadn’t killed my father, we wouldn’t be standing here together. Who knows? I
don’t. He tells me that Cersei is sending no men to aid us, but sent Euron Greyjoy to Essos to
bring the Golden Company to ght for her. Some ten thousand men, Jon, and they’ll be waiting
for us aer we win this war.”

“Are you asking my opinion?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers. “Because if you are, I have no
answer. All I know is that if I see Jaime Lannister walking around Winterfell, the odds are he will
go the way of Ramsay Bolton.”

“Jon,” she began, shaking her head in warning, but Tyrion entered the front room and sat,
waiting for them. “Maybe you should wait here for a moment. I don’t want a murder happening
so close to where I sleep. I had hoped that I’d le those days behind me.”

Dany stepped into the front room, looking around. “Where is he?” she asked.

“Jaime? He’s.......I thought it best if he stayed in other lodgings while in the area, so arranged for
a room.....” he gestured delicately.

“That was wise,” she answered, keeping her voice low. “Jon’s here and needs our help.
Keep Jaime away from him, Jon’s sworn he’ll kill him. I need him alive, a lord who has
sworn fealty to me is of great use at Casterly Rock. Jon,” she called. “It’s safe. No one
needs killing tonight.”

Jon stepped out. “Lord Tyrion,” he greeted. “Thank you for keeping your promise. We
have trouble, but I can’t quite gure out what it is ”

Over an hour later, still pouring over the map and trying to gure out what was happening, Dany
shied her attention away from them and to the window, trying to give her mind a break as she
stretched her body. She leaned against the stone, watching stars shining bright in the frozen sky.
There had to be something they were overlooking. She ddled with the heavy wool curtains,
stroking the tightly woven cloth between her ngers. “Do we know where their source of power
comes from?” she asked, turning back to the two men. “I know little to nothing about it, but
they didn’t just spring from the ground, did they?”
“Bran says that the Children of the Forest made the Night King,” Jon answered. “In order to ght
the Andals who were arriving from Essos to the lands, taking what wasn’t theirs, chasing
away the Children from their homes The Night King was made, but now he’s gone
and we’re le

with his progeny. He made them with his power, but I don’t know if it’s a location or some sort
of magic within.....We can’t ask Bran to do it for us, he may be exposing us all. He says the Night
King can see him, so it’s a risk that he might have passed it on to the other White Walkers.”

“Let’s say for argument’s sake that it is a location.....” Tyrion guessed. “Where do you think they
would go? Would it be where they came from?”

Jon shook his head. “We have no knowledge that far North. We call it the Lands of Always
Winter for a reason, it’s beyond the Frost Fangs, which is the furthest that’s been explored by

men. It’s too cold and too far.”

“What if that’s where they are, Jon? Even if it’s something they had within themselves,
they’re hiding somewhere, and it’s as good a place as any to start looking.” she asked. She
gave a thoughtful pause. “Do you think Drogon could do it?”

“You’d not be going alone,” Jon answered, tensing up. If he were a wolf, his hackles would
be raised and he’d be baring his teeth, snarling.

“Of course not,” she placated, relieved when his shoulders lost their tension. “You and
Rhaegal would be with us.”

“What would we even be looking for?” Jon asked, visibly frustrated. “Even if we could get
there, even if we we don’t know what we’re trying to nd.”

“They don’t need to take shelter, do they? They’re not going to back to homes with
families,” Dany pointed out.
“Dear gods, I hope not,” Tyrion answered, sitting back in his chair.

Daenerys went into the bedroom and brought back the decanter of wine with a glass. “Feed
your mind, Lord Tyrion,” she jested lightly.

“My gratitudes, my Queen,” he replied, pouring and drinking deeply. He held the glass
against his forehead for a long moment, studying the map. “We’re certain it’s this way?”
he asked, his
nger tracing a path.

“It has to be, the other way is the land of the Thenns,” Jon answered. “The Wildlings hate
them. They eat human esh.”

Daenerys visibly shuddered and swallowed heavily. “I’m glad we’re not going that way, then.”

Tyrion circled his nger around the area of the map. “This is an area roughly the size of the
North,” he said slowly. “If it’s not something big and obvious, we’re likely not going to nd it. It
would be too dangerous and too cold to sweep at a lower level. You’ll need to be up high to
avoid any lances.”

“If we’re too high, we won’t see one until it ’s too late,” Daenerys countered.

“This river, here,” Tyrion pointed out, squinting to read the lettering. “It says Ice Rivers
........................................................................................................................................................................ that
area has been charted. We can rule out..” He began to cover the area with a few of the
wooden pieces. “That much area. Likely it wouldn’t be between there and the Frostfangs, would
it?”

Jon shook his head. “It would be further North, I would think.”
“Well, we can rule out hundreds of square miles just from that alone,” Tyrion answered,
sounding a little more encouraged. He covered the area from the Frostfangs to the Ice Rivers.

“The area has been cut in half. Manageable?” he asked, turning to look at Daenerys.

She walked over to look at the map, tracing from the Wall to where the pieces ended. “If we
stop along Skirling Pass or the Milkwater for a rest, I’m certain we could manage it,” she
answered, pointing to the two places on the map with valleys between the mountains. She
looked up from the map to Jon. “Want to go put some more locations on a map?”

He met her eyes and gave her a smile, a cautious but pleased smile. “Are you up for it?” he
asked, challenging her.

Daenerys looked from him back to Tyrion. “Maester Wolkan will be here rst thing in the
morning to check you one last time,” Tyrion promised her, sliding out of his chair and taking
his glass of wine with him. “Sleep tonight, both of you,” he called out before he shut the door,
half warning, half teasing.

Jon looked to Dany, who shook her head slightly. “I’m still spotting a little,” she whispered, a
sad smile on her face. “I’m supposed to wait until it stops before we try again Sleep is all
I’m able
to do tonight, I’m sorry.”

He sighed and pulled her into his chest, holding her gently. “No, I’m sorry, Love,” he
whispered.

“I’m nding some comfort in that we’ll try again,” she whispered, blinking back her tears. “I’m
glad to sleep next to you tonight, at any rate.”

He kissed her gently on her shining hair then pulled away. “I need to send a raven before I
come to bed,” he said gently. “Let them know I’ve been delayed.” He led her into their
room and pulled back the blankets. “You get settled and I’ll be right back.” Jon looked
around the room. “Has Ghost come back?”
She shook her head, climbing into bed and settling herself under the blankets. “He hasn’t. You
sent him o to nd his pack, didn t you? I thought maybe he d be back by now, but . . .

Jon frowned a little, but shrugged as he made his way to the door. “He’s been gone for a bit
before. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

“You’re not worried?” she asked. “I’ve been worried, just occupied with all the other
things, too.” She felt guilty. She missed her giant white protector.

Jon shook his head. “I’m not. He’ll come back when he’s ready,” he assured her. “I’ll be right
back.”

Dany settled back, burying herself under the heavy blankets, glad to have Jon home even if
it was just for one night. She dried o, trying to plan how she was going to convince
Maester Wolkan that she was t enough to ght, waking slightly as Jon slid into the bed
behind her.

“You asleep?” he asked, his voice a gentle murmur.

“Almost,” she sighed, turning and snuggling in, laying her head on his chest, letting one arm
fall around his waist. “I missed you,” she whispered, kissing the fading scar under her cheek.

“I missed you too, Love,” he answered, his arm coming up around her. “How’s your head?” He
reached with his other hand, gentle ngers probing her scalp tenderly.

She hummed against him, enjoying his warmth. “It doesn’t hurt nearly as much. The bruise is
fading, nothing is broken. The maester says I just bumped it a bit too hard and I should avoid
doing that again if at all possible. I think he was trying to jest with me, but he seemed pleased.”

“I’m glad too,” Jon answered soly, kissing her on the forehead before letting out a sigh. “I know
I’ve already said, but I missed you. You’re my home.”
Tangent Chapter 12

Daenerys woke Jon with a so kiss and a sigh, reveling in the warmth of their bed and the
comfort of his presence. She hummed happily against his mouth, smiling as his hands came up
to cup her neck, pulling her in. When she pulled away to breathe, he held her close, nuzzling
her cheek with his nose, kissing her before he slowly rolled over and sat up, stretching and
groaning.

“Thank the gods for wives and warm beds,” he groaned out. “Sleeping on the ground by myself
isn’t fun anymore.”

She hued a laugh and crawled out from under the blankets, standing and scanning the room for
her robe. “You’re the one who le without me,” she reminded him, tossing the words over her
shoulder casually, taunting him.

She heard the rumble in his chest before she heard his feet coming at her, so she had no time to
escape before he grabbed her and tackled her back to the bed, making her laugh as she hit the
pillows. “You know why I had to go without you.”

She leaned up on her elbows, pressing her nose to his. “I know why. I still hated it,” she
answered, enunciating every word slowly. She smiled at him, pushing her lips to his. “Now
you’re
coming with me.

“If the maester says so,” he answered, moving back so he wasn’t pinning her to the bed any
longer. “Then we’ll go.” Daenerys scoed a little, but Jon gave her a look of seriousness that took
a bit of her steam. “If he says no, then you’re still waiting here when I leave again,” he warned.

When the knock to the door nally came, Jon kissed her soly on the forehead. “Come to the
Great Hall aer,” he invited before he looked at her seriously once more and pointed his nger at
her in warning, shaking it at her before excusing himself from the room to seek out Tyrion,
leaving her with that little furl between her eyebrows that signaled her displeasure. As he
walked down the passageways of Winterfell, he permitted himself a rare moment to think on
what had happened at The Fist just the week before. It clawed at his heart, hurting more and
more as the days passed, the more he had tamped it down and tried to forget about it,
focusing on Dany. She hadn’t even begun to show yet, but the size of that little frozen bubble
of ice and blood had been slightly larger than a hen’s egg, so it wouldn’t have been very much
longer

before she would have. He had avoided looking at it for more than the moment Dany
had pointed it out to him, clearly wanting him to bring it back with them to Winterfell,
but then
Drogon was there, taking care of everything before Jon could even really formulate a plan.

Drogon. Jon hadn’t considered things from his point of view. He’d lost two siblings that day, had
aided both on their way to wherever the dead went for their eternal rest. Jon wondered if the
dragons mourned the baby the way Daenerys and he were, or if the concept was lost on them.
He shook his head. He’d never know. Drogon may have thought that his re would make it
hatch, for all he understood. The enormous dragon had felt the loss of Dany keenly, however, as
Jon had mounted Rhaegal and called for Drogon to accompany them to Last Hearth. He’d
only followed reluctantly, turning back to call for Daenerys several times before joining them.

Jon found Tyrion in the Great Hall, staring at a plate of food and a goblet of wine in his hand.
He seemed grim, deep in thought. When Jon approached, he seemed to clear his head a little
before greeting him. “Any new revelations to add?” he asked.

Jon pulled up a seat across from him and rested his forearms on the table. He looked down at
his folded hands, thinking. He shook his head. “It’s a fool’s plan,” he said nally. “But it’s the best
we’ve got.”
Tyrion nodded in agreement. “It is,” he acknowledged. “I’ll assume you’ll be armed enough
for the both of you if it comes to a ght on the ground?”

“She’ll stay on Drogon, no matter what happens,” Jon promised.

Tyrion took a long drink of his wine. “And if he’s brought down?”

“Then we’re fucked anyway, so she may as well,” he answered, shrugging. “I don’t like it,
but that’s how it would be.”

“It’s said you’re the best swordsman in Westeros since Jaime has lost his hand,” Tyrion said

slowly. “If anyone could save our Queen, it would be you.”

Jon shook his head. “A sword won’t save anyone from the cold, Lord Tyrion. If pressed, I can
win a ght, but there’s nothing I can do against the cold. She’s better o on Drogon, and I intend
on pressing that point to her.”

“She’ll listen to you over anything I could tell her,” Tyrion admitted.

“Aye, I know,” Jon agreed. “And that truly terries me. You’re her Hand, she should be
listening to you.”

Tyrion poured Jon an identical goblet of wine, and the two men drank together in silence for
a few minutes. “When will the two of you leave?” Tyrion nally asked.

“Maester Wolkan is with her now,” Jon answered. “I’m hoping she’ll come out here aer
and eat with me, but she may not if things don’t go her way in there.”
“Her head wasn’t her only injury, was it?” Tyrion asked shrewdly. “Has she been suering more

than she’s let on?”

Jon shrugged, draining his cup. If Daenerys wanted Tyrion to know about the miscarriage, she
would have told him herself. Jon certainly wasn’t going to say anything; for him, the grief was
still too near. Perhaps that was the same reason why Dany hadn’t told her Hand, but maybe
there were other compelling reasons Jon couldn’t think of at that moment. “Her bruises are
fading,” he answered nally. “She’ll recover.”

“You’re a horrible liar, Jon Snow,” Tyrion pointed out.

“I pride myself on that trait, actually,” Jon replied, refusing to give ground. “However, I am
not lying about this. She’s healing well.”

Jon could see Tyrion trying to hide his impatience and irritation. “If our Queen is hurt, our
King ought to ”

“I am her husband rst, the King second,” Jon countered atly. “I will not break faith with my
wife, Lord Tyrion. Her bruises and bumps are fading. The Queen will have a complete
recovery, as the maester has promised us all, I swear it.”

Tyrion let it go, not wanting to push Jon any further, especially when Jon was speaking the
truth, which Tyrion expected he was by the end of the statement. Still, something more had
happened up there Beyond the Wall, he was certain of it. “We need her to come back alive,
Your Grace,” he
said nally. “The world is lost without her.”

Jon nodded, ddling with his empty cup. “As am I, Lord Tyrion. As am I.” He didn’t bother to turn
around as he heard footsteps behind him, didn’t need to see her face to know her presence as
she came behind him, running her hand over his shoulder. He only turned slightly to see her as
he picked up her hand and kissed the palm out of pleasure at her nearness. “Love,” he greeted,
guiding her to sit next to him. “Your Lord Hand and I agree – if we go, your safety is the most
important.”
“I will worry about myself,” she answered lightly, smiling at Jon as he gestured for food to be
brought to them. “Maester Wolkan has been kind enough to care for me, and I can now
rejoin the ght in all things.”

Jon willed himself to not react to the double meaning of her words, instead kissing her hand
again and quietly stating, “Drogon will be pleased to have his mother back where she belongs.”

“And you?” she asked, touching his cheek aectionately.

He sighed. “I can’t say that I am,” he answered honestly. “I ght better when I know you’re here,
safely away from harm.”

Tyrion nodded slowly. “I have to say, I agree with His Grace,” he added cautiously. “It’s easier
to ensure the safety of the world’s future with you here instead of out there.”

Jon could see her pursing her lips in irritation, and he mentally braced himself for the lashing
she was going to give them both. “Lucky for me, my fate doesn’t rest in your hands then,” she
nally responded, though Jon was positive that there had been some stinging retort that would
have bitten them both much more deeply had she not restrained herself. She smiled gratefully
at the attendant who placed her breakfast in front of her. “Thank you.” Fresh herbs on eggs and
the dark, nearly black sausage that seemed to be particular to Winterfell and its holdings. It
was the

rst foods that had smelled appetizing in weeks. She lowered her eyes so neither Jon nor Tyrion
could see the tears burning in her eyes. They would try again. The maester had examined her
thoroughly, then suggested she and Jon wait another week and aer he’d examined her
again beforehand to ensure she was ripe for conception. He’d spoken at length about her
family and history of her ancestry, bringing up points that she hadn’t known, showing her his
history book as it was written by grand maesters concerning her family tree.

She cleared her throat before she began eating, savoring her food and listening to the silence
between Jon and Tyrion. There would be time to speak to Jon about the details aer they
returned. She traced her ngers along the grain of the wood on the table as she considered with
the maester had told her before turning her thoughts to the enormous task ahead of them. It
was going to be colder than when she’d gone to rescue Jon past Eastwatch, colder even than
it
had been on The Fist.

Another attendant walked by, politely setting down a cup of a white, steaming liquid in front
of her. Jon nodded approvingly at her puzzled look and he thanked the woman before she
turned to leave.

She stared at it, then lied the stoneware cup to smell it, sweet and herbal and.....something.
The cup warmed her hands pleasantly. “What is this?” she asked.

“Herbs we grow here in Winterfell, steeped in hot water and mixed with cream and butter,”
Jon answered. “We drink it when the weather gets to its coldest.” He watched as she closed
her eyes and smelled it again, waing the steam under her nose. He turned away, unable to
look at her when she looked like that, the illicit thoughts racing through his mind not
helping to keep his mind straight; he couldn’t act upon any of them, not yet. “Try it,” he
urged. “The adults don’t get

it as much as the children and older babies do. Winter is harder on them, and this helps to
ward o the cold.”

Daenerys sipped at the hot drink. She could taste a golden grassiness to it, the butter and
herbs, plus a warmth and creaminess to it she hadn’t tasted since she was small and had been
given milk she tamped down on those memories. Now was not the time for that. Maybe later,
when it was just her and Jon and she could tell him of it, tell it all to him and try to put it
behind her. She glanced up at the two men, Tyrion paying attention to his own meal, but
Jon watching her carefully out of the corner of his eyes. “It’s good,” she whispered.

“Good,” he answered, turning to smile at her before he stood. “Bring it with you and nish it
while we get ready.” He held out his hand to her and she gladly accepted it. Jon turned to
Tyrion. “Send a raven to our armies at Last Hearth. Let them know their Queen has come
up with a plan and we’re going to see it through.”

By the time they were ying over The Wall between Shadow Tower and Castle Black, Daenerys
was glad she’d listened to him, the hot milk and fatty butter settling in her belly comfortably
and
warming her from the inside out. Once over The Wall, she urged Drogon above the low cloud

cover, glad to have the weak sunlight on her back. Something was better than nothing. She
could feel the weight of the leather bag lashed to her le leg as she was sure Jon felt the
heavier one on his back, lled with provisions should they need them.

Rhaegal moved in front of them to lead, Jon leading them toward where they’d been just a
week ago, though Dany didn’t realize it until The Fist was looming below them, the clouds
breaking away to reveal the land below. Rhaegal veered slightly to the West and Drogon
followed, diving down to y between majestic ridges of snow covered mountains. The rocks
breaking through the snow looked blue and purple from the distance and Dany was surprised
at the tug in her heart at the savage beauty of it – all the space in the world with no people
in it, no cities or towns, just silent snow and trees whispering in the icy cold wind with a
language all their own.

Jon and Rhaegal nally brought them down to a wide and at space where the ice laden river
forked, where they had the cover of trees to block the wind and their presence from above.
Jon waited for Drogon to let Dany down, then he helped her untie their supplies from her
leg before undoing his own. With his heavy gloves, he beat a break into the ice under a tree
and stored everything there, burying it with rocks and snow. He pulled her into a tight
embrace, leaning against the trunk of a sturdy pine. “We’ll meet here if we get separated,” he
said, then looked to Drogon. “Here. Remember this place, my friend. Bring your mother here
if you need to.”

He turned back to look at Daenerys. “We’ll let them rest for a bit. Tell me what Maester
Wolkan said this morning while we wait. There’s no one around to overhear us.”

She shrugged, relaxing into his arms and resting her head on his shoulder. “He says I’ll be
spotting for another day or so at the most, from what he can tell. Then....he wants us to wait
for another week and me to see him again before we start trying. He wants to make sure we’re
trying when my body is ripest.”

Jon nodded. “We might be far from Winterfell at that point. What then?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Chance it?”

He smiled at her. “That’s what we did before and it worked out,” he pointed out. “I don’t mind

those odds myself, but I wonder if it would be better to at least know beforehand....I could see
how it could get discouraging for you if it doesn’t happen right away. I don’t want your beautiful
hope to disappear.”

“He also said that if you really are Rhaegar’s son, my chances of conceiving and carrying your
baby to term are much higher,” she added. “He had some history book with him, and he was turning
pages and naming o the Targaryens who married outside the family, and most of them had a
higher miscarriage and infertility rate than those who stayed within the bloodline. Many of them,
not all, but enough for more than one Grand Maester in the last 300 years to make note
of it.”

Jon nodded. “I don’t pretend to know enough about all that to have an opinion,” he began.
“But if the maester seemed to know and had documents to prove his words, then we’ll have to
accept that. It’s encouraging, at any rate.”

“It is,” she sighed. She closed her eyes and tried to hear his heartbeat, but there were too
many layers of clothes between them. “It’s nice to not hear anyone else but us,” she
whispered. “It’s so quiet here.”

Jon held onto her and slid down the tree to sit on the snow, pulling Dany into his lap and
holding her. “Rest, then,” he suggested. “Don’t go to sleep, but rest and let the quiet into you.
Feel it around you.”

Jon knew they were on a potentially deadly path. He was preparing for danger and battle in
the only way he could; focusing on the moment. Dany’s warm weight in his lap, holding her
snugly against him, the way her hair tickled his face as the wind blew through the trees, the
fur on the edge of her collar and hood wavering, holding her warmth securely within. It was
too cold for her scent to reach his nose, but he buried his face in her hair anyway and kissed
her, sending up a wordless plea to the heavens that they would both live to see the light of
tomorrow. “I love you,” he husked out.

Dany brought her heavily gloved hand up to touch his face, stroking his cheek. “I love you,”
she said back soly. “I’m not afraid, Jon. Either we’ll survive or we won’t, but at least we have
truly
lived in the time we’ve had.”

He nodded in agreement, nothing to add to her words, knowing exactly how she felt. At
least we’ve had each other for a little while, I certainly wasn’t brought back from the dead
for nothing like I’d rst thought. “We should get moving.” He pulled out a map from inside his
coat, the cold

making the leather crackle as he slowly unrolled it. “We’re here,” he said, pointing. “We’re
at the last fork here at the top of the Milkwater River. Aer we clear these ridges we
start our
search.”

“Should we sweep North to South, or try to go East to West?” she asked, tracking her nger on
the map to show him what she meant.

“Likely East to West, heading North,” he answered, holding her hand, using her nger to show
him what he intended. “That way, when we get too cold, it’s not that far to backtrack to
here

and rest.”

“What about when it gets dark?” she asked, looking around at their surroundings before looking
down at the map again.

“We can stay here for a night,” he answered. “We’re sheltered enough in the trees, and if we
have Rhaegal and Drogon to keep us warm, we’ll be ne.”

Daenerys looked up from Jon’s map to Drogon, then to Jon. “Right. We’re ready.”

Her layers of clothes made it nearly impossible for her to stand up on her own as hard as she
tried. With a laugh and a hu, she turned as far as she could to face Jon only to see his smirk
before his hand was on her low back, pushing her up so she could stand, fake grunting with
the eort to tease her.
“Just wait until I’m huge and fat and cranky with you,” she teased back. “I’ll be all belly and mad

because I can’t move.”

He laughed out loud, pleased she was playing. “I’ll just help you up and let you yell at me,” he
answered. “I’ll even kiss you and tell you you’re beautiful while you’re mad, because you are.”
He tried to keep his enthusiasm as low key as he possibly could, but he was thrilled she was
actually talking about it like she was accepting there was hope. It took a lot of eort to keep the
stupid grin o his face that made him feel like a fool. He tried to stand up, but her weight had
pushed
him too far down into the snow, and like her, he had too many layers on to get adequate
leverage. “Shit,” he exclaimed. “I’m stuck. Dany. .” He reached out his hand, realizing he was
at
her mercy.

It was her turn to laugh, bringing one gloved nger up to her chin. “Hmmmm,” she teased.
“You’d better remember this moment, Jon-Aegon.” She emphasized his name. “When I’m stuck
in a chair, huge and pregnant, my feet swelling and I’m mad and you start to laugh at me, I
want you to remember this moment.”

He hued out a laugh. “Dear gods,” he laughed. “I won’t laugh and I won’t forget, I swear it. Now
help me up.”

She reached her hand out, giggling, and braced herself in the snow and ice, using that
leverage to help Jon to his feet before turning and climbing back onto Drogon. “Come, King
in the North. We have a lot of snow and ice to cover today.”
Tangent Chapter 13
Drogon and Rhaegal took turns leading once they cleared the last ridges of the known
mountains, the dragons sweeping through the skies as their riders scanned the world
below, an endless at plain of white snow. Far to their right, to the North, she could see another
ridge of mountains through the falling snow. Rhaegal was suddenly blocking her view, Jon
gesturing for her to follow him in that direction. Steeling herself, she shied her weight
slightly, asking Drogon
to follow them, but Drogon balked under her, stopping his forward movement to hover in the air.
To her relief, Rhaegal immediately turned back for them, then began descending toward the
ground, Drogon willingly following him.

Once on the ground, Jon was rushing for her, helping her down. “What’s wrong?” he asked, the
wind blasting them both with snow much harder than it had in the air.

“I don’t know,” she nearly had to yell back for him to hear her. “Drogon won’t go there.” She
pointed in the direction of the mountain ridge.

Jon looked toward the unknown mountain, then back to her, his face grim. “Will he follow if
we hike it?” he yelled back.

This time Daenerys balked. “If Drogon won’t go there willingly, I can’t force him,” she answered,
shaking her head if her words were lost over the howling wind.

Jon brought his head closer to hers, unable to hear her over the wind, and she repeated her
words, yelling them out. He nodded and kissed her soundly before he pulled back, looking grim
and determined. “Then it’s up to Rhaegal and I.go back to our meeting place. Wait until
morning, no later. I’ll see you aer,” he yelled back.

She shook her head vehemently, turning toward Drogon. “We have to go with them,” she
pleaded to her dragon, walking from Jon to Drogon, stroking him gently under his eye down
his snout. “Please, Drogon. We must.” Jon is going to try and be a stupid hero without us and
he’s going to end up dead if we don’t, she pleaded with him in her mind. He throated out a
call to her though she felt the vibrations against her hand more than she could hear the
sound. She turned

back to Jon and gave him a nod, a rming that she and Drogon would follow them.
Once more in the snow and ice laden sky, Rhaegal was bravely leading them directly toward the
mountain ridge, which turned out to be not a ridge at all, but a single mountain, sharp and
pointed and looking as if it were piercing the sky like a spear. Daenerys felt her heart pound in
her chest. This must be the right place.

As they neared it, she could see it was split open like a log by an axe. By her estimation, the
dragons wouldn’t be able to t inside, nor did Daenerys even want to attempt it. Her whole
being was screaming to get away from the place, the air colder than anything she’d felt yet, a
knife against her cheeks. Her eyelashes had grown a light and feathery layer of frost, her lips
numb with the bitter wind. She didn’t dare let go of Drogon to tighten her hood, so she had
to duck her head down as he began to descend from the sky toward the ice and snow below.

There was no wind once they were on the ground. The air was as still as ice and easily twice as
cold. She could hear every breath she took, could see the heat waves rising from Drogon’s skin.
The dragons were strangely silent, too. Her ears felt pressure from the silence, and though she
tried to relieve the pressure in them, it did no good. She looked to Jon, who already had his
feet on the ground, was signaling for her to stay where she was. She wanted to shake her head
and argue with him, but she had promised Jon and Tyrion both that she would stay with
Drogon no matter what happened.

She watched as Jon unbuckled his scabbard, drawing Longclaw before tossing the belt aside.
The Valyrian steel seemed to glow in the frigid air, a life and breath all its own. She eased
herself down from Drogon with his help, and approached Jon, casually picking up his scabbard
and looping it around herself. “It’s not much, but it may help,” she whispered, her breath a
great white cloud. She pulled a dragonglass dagger from where it had been strapped to her
hip, courtesy of Arya. She handed it to him, handle rst.

He shook his head, pushing it back toward her. “You might need that yet,” he whispered back.
“Keep it.”

Ice crackled behind her. Jon took the dagger and turned it in her gloved hand, closing her ngers
around the handle. “Stay here,” he whispered. “Get back on Drogon. Stay with the dragons,
Love.” He moved past her, heading toward the sounds of the motion, Longclaw out and
ready.
Dany saw him before Jon did, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Ghost,” she whispered. Jon
lowered his sword, hung out a silent exclamation of relief. “What are you doing here?” she
demanded when the direwolf ambled up to her, tail low and still. She buried her face into his
neck, barely able to get her arms around him, his warmth against her face heavenly as she
hugged him tightly. “Where have you been?”

Jon looked up from their reunion, suddenly on high alert. The hairs were standing up on
the back of her neck, too. They were being watched. Was it a trap? “They’re here,” he
whispered. “Come, Ghost. We’re nishing this.”

Dany grabbed his arm. “Drogon and I will follow,” she promised, heading back toward the waiting
dragon.

Jon shook his head. “He’s too big, he won’t be able to y in there. Take Rhaegal. Drogon,” he said
quietly. “You stop anything that isn’t us from leaving this mountain, lad. We need you here,
waiting. Burn them all.” Drogon lowered his head, his eyes xed on the craggy entrance, focused,
showing Jon he was ready.

Rhaegal lowered his shoulder and wing, nearly gleeful when Dany mounted him, his mouth
opening in a silent scream. She looked back to Drogon. “Stay here unless it’s not safe for you,
then get out, my love. I need you to live.”

“Wait here unless I yell,” Jon ordered her, giving her no time to respond before Ghost bounded
ahead and Jon charged aer him, sword out, ready for the ght.

Dany waited, holding her breath, eyeing the great split in the mountain, the ice and snow within
seeming to glow, much like Longclaw. Magic dwelt within that mountain, bright and terrible, and
she waited. Rhaegal shied nervously under her, Drogon as still as a statue, concentrating,
waiting.

“NOW!” Jon yelled, his voice echoing strangely against the ice, but Daenerys and Rhaegal were
already in the air, and she was positive Rhaegal responded to Jon’s mind before he could call for
them. Drogon didn’t hesitate, he braced his feet in the ice, his mighty claws digging in as he

roared out a mighty blast of re. Rhaegal was already twisting in the air, ying into that great
crevice in the rock, his agility permitting him to nd room. Inside, she didn’t have a chance to
truly see what was happening before Rhaegal was lighting the ice on re, burning it. The ice was
so cold and his re so hot that for an instant, the ames caught the ice on re and it burned.

An icy spear glanced by them, the miss so narrow that she could see the wooden sha on the
lance as it went by her face, Rhaegal turning furious as one of the White Walkers tried to
bring them down. He mounted skyward, the mountain narrowing, sending up a roar of
warning to Drogon before he dove again, weaving and circling, Daenerys just barely able to
hold on with Rhaegal’s unpredictable movement.

She saw Jon for barely a blink of her eyes, ghting o a small group of wights, Ghost leaping in the
air and bringing down the White Walker, the wights lost to the wind as dust. Rhaegal turned
abruptly, letting loose re and fury, using his great tail to knock yet more down for Ghost to take
down as he landed.

Jon was yelling at her while he slashed and fought, trying to point at something, Rhaegal
turning them before she could register it, seeing the circle of ice crystals that stood taller than
Tormund, the attened table in the center, and she knew. Daenerys and Rhaegal were of one
mind – destroy.

Drogon roared out in fury, crashing through the narrow opening, clawing his way in as he
shattered the ice and rock, ripping apart White Walkers just as he’d done with the Sons of
the Harpy so long ago in Deznak’s Pit, and Daenerys had never been lled with so much pride.
“Drogon!” she yelled, just as she’d done then, and he was in the air, ying toward the center,
seizing another Walker before it could throw the lance it carried. She scanned the remaining
creatures, none of them le were armed. They hadn’t known, had no time to prepare for the
dragons to storm their hiding place.

Rhaegal half ran, half ew to Drogon’s side, and between the two of them, the ice pillars began
to melt and crumble under their shared ames, Jon and Ghost holding the remaining Walkers
and wights back, keeping them away from her as the dragons completed their task until Jon
was there, in the middle of the res, and she tossed him her obsidian blade. She was shocked
when
he caught it before he turned and thrust it directly into the platform in the middle. For one
breath, nothing happened, but then it shattered, burst with blue re and light, knocking Jon

back, the blade in his hand broken and leaving him bloody where it had pierced his gloves.

The sound that followed was something Daenerys never wanted to hear again, it set her teeth
on edge and her spine shuddered as the sound of tens of thousands of screams, rocks
grinding, and a deep throbbing echo surrounded them, shaking her to her very foundation.
She knew she would have nightmares of that sound for years to come.

A blinding blue light erupted, Ghost running back the way they’d come in, escaping to safety,
Jon climbing up on Drogon, screaming at her and Rhaegal to get out, the mountain around
them beginning to crumble in ruin. She spread herself at on Rhaegal as he took to the air,
Drogon right behind him, ying straight up in the air with a speed that made her dizzy and sick.
She felt the rock strike her leg, and she bit her tongue in surprise before she screamed,
reaching down to grab her thigh, knowing in a white hot instant it was broken, but then they
were in the sky, the blue light nally fading behind them as Rhaegal sped away, ying her directly
back to the Milkwater.

She gritted her teeth through the pain as they sped away, seeing the ridges of the mountains
far in the distance, encouraged. She would reach the Milkwater, she would live to see the end
of Winter, she would live to breathe and see green grass and Winterfell and Sansa and Arya and
Bran again, Ghost. Ghost.

Daenerys nearly turned Rhaegal around, but she knew he would resist her if she tried. He
knew where to go and what to do next, the dragons had heard the plan and would keep on
course. To her relief, the mountains grew ever larger, and soon they were ying over them,
Rhaegal speeding like an arrow from a Dothraki bow. He circled around, calling out to
Drogon, and she held her breath, letting it go and letting the tears come when she heard
Drogon’s answering cry to his brother before Rhaegal gently set them down on the ground.
Jon, oh gods, Jon.............................................................................................................................................. I need
you.

Half falling, half dragging herself, she made it to the ground beneath Rhaegal’s wing, well aware
that she was leaving a trail of blood behind her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her leg, but
then Jon was there, Drogon landing with a great loud pounding on the ground, roaring out his
dominance and trimph. She didn’t see Jon get down, but he was suddenly there, in front of her
face, pulling her, yanking on her pants and when she screamed out in blinding pain, he reacted
quickly, taking a long strip of leather from the pack and felt her leg, patting gently until he was

certain he was above her wound, and he tied it as tightly as he could, making her scream again.

“I’m sorry, Love, I’m sorry,” he was whispering, “I’m so sorry. We can’t stop and rest here for
long, we have to get you somewhere safe, get your leg looked at.”

“Take me home,” she panted out, crying. “I need to go home. I’ll make it to Winterfell, I
promise.”

“I need to see it if we’re going to try to go that far,” he warned her.

She let out a wavering cry, not wanting his hands anywhere near it. “Just cut up the pants,” she
whimpered, panting from the pain. “I don’t care if it gets cold, it’ll probably help more than
anything.”

He guided her to lay on her side, then stood up. He searched around on the ground frantically,
nally walking toward a tree and snapping a branch o, stripping the bark o and handing it to
her. “Bite,” he commanded.

She nodded, doing as he told her, bracing herself. He took out one of the long, broken shards
of her obsidian dagger from his pocket and grabbed the bottom of her pants, cutting into
them and slicing upward in one long stroke.

“Seven Hells,” he cursed. “You’ve broken right through the skin, baby. Fuck. I can’t x this here.”

She pulled the stick from her mouth. “Just . . . just tie it o,” she begged. “Maester Wolkan .... he
can.....”

Jon pushed the stick back at her and she bit down, nodding at him desperately, squeezing her
eyes shut as he tied a second strap above her broken leg, her scream mued by the snow and
the branch in her mouth, dizzy with the pain, screaming again as Jon tied a clean cloth around

the wound, stabilizing it as best he could.

“They’re all gonna be so pissed o at me.” His laugh held a quiver to it that made her scared. He
shook his head, keeping his eyes on her leg, on his task. “I keep letting you get the brunt of this
shit, they’re not going to let me near you aer this. Thank the old gods and the new it wasn’t
your head again.”

“They’d better let you near me if they want an heir. ” she gritted out around the wood.

“We’ll make our own army of hellions,” he promised, laughing that strange, frightening laugh
again. “How many do you want?” He leaned over and unbuckled the scabbard from around
her and tossed it on the snow near where he’d dropped Longclaw.

She shook her head. “I’d settle for one baby, safe and healthy in my arms before thinking
about any more,” she answered, crying out as he twisted the strap tighter and fastened it
securely.

“I think that’ll work for now,” he said gently, leaning over and kissing her soundly on the
forehead before settling her head into his lap so she could rest. He sat back against a tree, still
breathless from the battle, letting the events sink into his head for a moment while he caught
his breath. He rolled his head against the trunk, turning to look at her. “We did it, Love. We
fucking did it.” He pulled out a water skin from under his coats, his body heat keeping the
water from

freezing. He aimed carefully, pouring mouthful aer mouthful of water for her until she waved
him o, draining the rest himself aer she’d had her ll.

The pain in her leg ebbed slightly, just enough to make it bearable when Jon supported her with
her arm around his shoulders as he helped her to reach Drogon, helped her get seated before
he went back and grabbed their packs. “ Take her home,” he told Drogon gently. “Let us go
ahead of you so we can have everything ready. Careful now, Mama’s hurt. Again.”
Jon stepped back, Drogon spreading his great wings in the clearing before running and
leaping into the sky. He turned to Rhaegal. “You’re tired, I know,” he said gently, shaking his
head,
buckling his scabbard back around his hips, sheathing Longclaw once more. “I wish we could
stay
and give you a proper rest, but we need to go home now, my friend.” He stroked Rhaegal’s face

when the dragon throated out a purring call. “You made me proud today. You carried her in and
out of there. Thank you.”

Once in the air, Jon and Rhaegal followed the Milkwater all the way to The Gorge, bypassing The
Wall altogether, trying to nd a faster route, the mountains and trees below covered in snow,
barely discernible from the air until they were nearly to Winterfell. It felt like hours before they
were landing in front of the gates, Jon yelling to the men out front to get the maester and
someone strong enough to carry the Queen.

He paced nervously on the ground, watching the skies as it began to grow dark, watching and
waiting, yanking o his heavy coat and throwing it on the ground. The cold in Winterfell had
nothing on the cold where they’d been. He looked to Rhaegal, who had burned himself a
warm spot in the snow covered grass, resting from his exertion. Soon enough, Rhaegal raised
his head and bellowed out, Drogon answering him, and then Jon was le standing as people
rushed past him to aid Daenerys. He stood back, collecting up his things and making his way
behind the maester and Sam with two large guards as they carried her back to the room she
shared with Jon.

Jon brought her water rst, getting her to drink a fair amount before Maester Wolkan had
nished washing his hands. He brought her milk of the poppy, administering it and waiting for
her to drop o into a fevered dream before cutting her pants o entirely, cutting through the
makeshi bandages, leaving the tourniquets that Jon had managed to eectively use to keep her
from bleeding out. Jon stripped down to his trousers and shirt, leaving the rest of the furs and
coats and overpants in a pile near the door, the heat in the room nearly too much to withstand. He
kicked o his boots, leaving them in front of the re to thaw out.

“Hold her arms,” the maester instructed him, and Jon eased himself down on the bed, cradling
Dany’s head in his lap, bracing himself and holding her arms crossed over her chest, Sam staying
behind to hold down her good leg.

Jon watched as the maester felt around the protruding bone, bracing himself, knowing what
was to happen. Daenerys twitched under him, and he knew even the opiate wouldn’t be
enough. It wasn’t nearly as bad as broken bones were treated at The Wall, more of a yank and
twist before
the bone sickeningly snapped back in place Sam and Jon able to hold her down as she screamed
and writhed in pain before it was done.

Jon eased her back down on the bed, sweating and fevered from the milk of the poppy, and
Sam slowly let go of her. Maester Wolkan began to sew up the gaping hole in her esh le by her
leg bone, and he looked up at Jon. “You kept it clean,” he commented. “It will take several
weeks for

the bone to mend, but it should mend soundly.”

“There was nothing up there but snow and ice,” Jon answered. “There was nothing to get
it dirty.”

The room was quiet for a moment, Jon and Sam quietly watching the maester work. “She’s
going to hate me, but I’ve got to leave. Rhaegal has had time to rest,” Jon said. “I don’t know if
the rest of the wights have fallen.”

“We haven’t heard anything,” Sam said slowly. “There’s been no ravens from Last Hearth or
beyond.”

Jon nodded. “Then I really have to get going.” He stood and kissed Daenerys soly on the
forehead, trying to ignore the sickly sweet smell of the opiates in her sweat. “I’ll come back,
Love,” he whispered to her. “I swear it.”

He wearily dragged on his boots again, then stood and turned to look at Sam and pointed at
him. “Stay with her. Keep her safe, keep her comfortable. She’s going to wake up angry beyond
your imagination, Sam. You’ve got to keep her on that bed and o that leg.” Sam began to
protest, but Jon shook his head at him, his nger still pointing at him. “I don’t care what happens,
you keep her in that bed.” Jon turned to the maester, who had nished sewing Dany’s leg closed.
“I need Lord Tyrion to meet me in my private council chamber.”

The maester got up from his chair and le the room and quickly returned. “He has been
sent for,” he said. He looked to Sam. “Looks like you’ve got rst watch, lad. If she moves or
speaks, I want to know about it.”
Sam nodded, getting comfortable in his chair. “Go, Jon. I’ll do whatever I can for her, which is not

much right now....”

“Don’t worry about it, Sam. I just don’t want her waking up alone. I’ll be back as soon as I
can, and we’ll get Missandei to come sit with her in a few hours,” Jon promised, walking out
the door.

Tyrion arrived bere he did, rubbing his face at the late hour when Jon nally walked into the
room. “Which is better, ying out to Last Hearth or waiting for a raven that may not come?” he
asked in greeting.

“It depends. If I’m the one ying, I’d wait for a raven,” Tyrion answered. “If you’re ying ..... I’d
stay behind and wait for the raven then, too. How is our Queen?”

Jon chuckled at his jape. “She’s resting now, thanks to milk of the poppy,” he answered. “It was a
clean break, no contamination, Maester Wolkan says it will heal just ne.”

“I can’t tell if she’s had good luck in this war or not,” Tyrion said, eyeing Jon.

“I can’t, either,” Jon admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s been rotten luck as far as getting
hurt, but enormously good luck in how easily she’s recovered.”

“It’s the Targaryen in her,” Tyrion observed. “You’re a hard lot to kill, even harder than Starks.”

“I suppose,” Jon answered absently, shiing his weight. He knew if he sat down, he would fall
asleep before he could even lean back properly in the chair.

“Sit before you fall, Your Grace,” Tyrion told him, gesturing to a chair near the re.
“Can’t. I’ll fall asleep,” Jon protested. “I can’t sleep yet.”

“Sit. If you do fall asleep, I’ll wake you when the raven arrives,” Tyrion promised.

Jon sat, pulling o his boots and leaned back, staring at the re before him. He remembered his
head hitting the back of the chair, but nothing aerward until Tyrion was shaking him awake. Jon
sat up, sucking in a deep breath to wake himself up.

“Congratulations, King in the North,” he said, and it took Jon a moment to gure out if he was
 jesting or not. “You and our Queen went o on the stupidest, bravest, most insane quest,
outdoing nearly every other hero’s mission before you, and you’ve succeeded. The Long
Night will end,” Tyrion said, slapping Jon on the back.

“They’re gone?” Jon asked, feeling sluggish and stupid.

Tyrion held out the raven scroll. “Read for yourself.”

Jon snatched it from his hands, unrolling it, reading the words written by Ser Jorah Mormont,
a brief description of the events near Long Lake plainly stating the whole army had gone up
like smoke, leaving bones and tattered remains of clothes. Some men were staying behind to
burn the le over pieces to ensure the dead remained dead.

Tyrion sighed heavily. “Now for the bad news, Jon. Your brother.......Bran. He committed suicide
down in the crypts. As far as we can tell, he did it two days ago, before you had come back to
Winterfell. He went missing, but everyone assumed he was with someone else. Arya found him
down there.”

Jon felt a stabbing pain in his chest, and he quickly sat back down. “Why?” he asked, tearing his
eyes from Tyrion so his wife’s Hand wouldn’t see him cry.
Tyrion wordlessly handed him another paper, this time a folded parchment. “He le this for
you. I’ve read it, so have the maester and your sisters.”

Jon handed it back, burying his face in his hands. “Tell me,” he requested. “I can’t read it
right now.”

“He explains it better, but it says that he knew they could see him, they could see what you
were doing and planning and the only way you would win the war was for him to die,” Tyrion said
gently. “So he said he willingly was giving his life for the North, and for all those he loved that
lived in it. He says......” Tyrion paused. “He says he loved you since he was old enough to
remember you, and that he’d gone to look back, seeing that you’d loved him from the day of his
birth and that your love is what gave him the strength to do as duty called him to do.”

Jon stood abruptly. “I need to see my sisters,” he rasped out, his throat thick with his tears.

“It’s only been an hour, Jon,” Tyrion protested. He pointed toward the door to his old room.
“Your bed is still in there. Use it. You’re of no use to them, your wife, or even yourself right
now. Forgive me for not waiting to tell you. I am very sorry. His loss will be felt for the rest
of our lives.”

Jon nodded at that, looking down at his hands. “I should bathe,” he observed, turning his bloody
hands over to look from the backs to the palms. “I can’t tell what’s mine or hers anymore.”

“I’ll have someone bring the hot water, Your Grace,” Tyrion answered, his tone heavy and
sad. “I’m truly sorry.”
Tangent Chapter 14

Jon woke alone in his old bed aer just an hour or two, restless and unable to relax. He looked
out the narrow window, the night deep and cold outside, the stars bright and shining with not a
single cloud in the sky. He could just make out the shapes of Rhaegal and Drogon in the
godswood, the moonlight a brilliant white on the snowdris. The most frightening war was over.
Daenerys had solved the riddle, and he’d helped her execute it to the best of his abilities. For the
rst time in his life, he was glad he was good at what he did.

“Good lads,” he whispered aectionately to the dragons before he laughed to himself. “Never
thought I’d ever see one, let alone love a dragon ” his words trailed o, thinking of Daenerys,
the dragon he loved most of all. He didn’t want to disturb her if she was sleeping of
course, but he hoped he’d be able to get a more peaceful rest if she were in closer
proximity, so he decided to at least check on her.

He wandered down the passageways of Winterfell in his thick wool socks, soundlessly making
his way toward his goal. He had to go the long way around to avoid going outside, but he nally
made it to her door. Opening it silently, he found Sam asleep on the low couch in the front
room, Missandei sleeping on a fur covered cot near Dany’s side of the bed. He looked to
Daenerys, her brows furrowed as she slept, her face glistening with fever sweat from the milk
of the poppy.
Relieved that she seemed to be resting, he grabbed a spare pillow from his side of the bed and a
heavy blanket from its storage place beneath the bed, making himself a spot on the fur rug in
front of the re.

He stood over the dying embers for a long moment, thinking of Bran, thinking of all that had
happened since he le Winterfell as a young boy. He’d been no more than a boy. He weighed it
all out in his mind, the good and the bad, trying to see if it had been worth it. It had. He knew it
had, but it was tough to nd it while grieving for his brother.
He put another log on the re, the hardwood smoldering for a minute before catching. He sat on
the fur, realizing he was in Ghost’s spot. It would possibly be a week before Ghost made it home

from where they’d been. May the hunt be fruitful and your travels swi and safe, my friend.

He sighed and lay his head on the pillow, looking down past his feet, able to see Daenerys as she
slept, her leg strapped and propped with wooden slats to keep it still while it healed. Comforted
that he’d at least be able to watch over her for a bit, he realized he was more tired than he’d
originally thought. He closed his eyes, receiving peace from the sounds of her breathing, alive.

He woke from sound sleep, daylight streaming in from the window, brighter than it had been in
months, Daenerys struggling to keep her sounds of pain quiet, her whimpers reaching his ears as
Missandei changed her bandages and laid fresh ice on her wound. He sat up to watch.

“Jon,” she groaned out, peripherally seeing his movement, reaching for him, wanting him.

“I’m here,” he answered, going directly to her, taking her hand, kneeling on the woven
wool rug on the oor so she could see him comfortably. “I’m here. There was a raven from Ser
Jorah last night, from Last Hearth. We did it, Love. The dead are back to being dead. You
were right. It
worked.”

She nodded, then groaned from the pain. “This is going to set us back a bit,” she whispered,
looking down at her leg.

He couldn’t help but laugh a little, shaking his head at her. “I don’t think you heard me. Your
idea, our actions, we saved the world from The Long Night.”

“I heard you,” she answered peevishly. “I understood you. It’s over now, and the further I
can put it behind me, the happier I will be. That sound, Jon. It’s going to haunt me.”

He nodded, then looked up at the wreath over their bed for the lack of anywhere else to look.
The Seven. His Lady Aunt had made it for Bran while he’d been unconscious aer Jaime
Lannister
had pushed him from the tower. He wondered briey how it had gotten to Dany s room. That
was one of the worst things I’ve ever heard.”

“I kept hearing it over and over again while the maester set my leg....” she shuddered. “I’m
never going to forget it, no matter how hard I try.”

“Will it help that our little adventure will be written into history books and we’ll be heroes for
generations to come?” he asked, looking at her nally and grinning sheepishly.

“No,” she answered, her voice taking on a new edge. “Songs and tales of yourself won’t
warm your bed at night, ll your stomach, or bring you anything more than hollow joy at best.”

“I suppose not,” he agreed. He reached out to touch her face. “ Too much experience with that
already, my Unburnt Breaker of Chains?”

A sound between a groan and a snort escaped her before she took his hand and held it
tightly, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m tired. I hurt. I’m sure the positive parts of this whole thing
will sink in later.”

Missandei came back in, removing the ice from Dany’s leg and changing the wet bandage.
Dany hissed and her good leg twitched, her knee coming up o the bed, her head tossing back
onto the pillow. “I’ve never had anything hurt this badly,” she sobbed quietly. “I need something
for it,

please.”

Missandei le the room again, returning with the maester, who looked over her leg. “Your
Grace,” he began. “I have limited choices for you right now. Sweetsleep has been known to
build up in a body over time, the risk of giving too much higher every time it’s taken. Milk of
the poppy
. . .”

“Milk of the poppy does me little to no good,” Daenerys answered him shortly. “I felt everything
and got no rest, though it prevented my mind from moving my body. I don’t want sweetsleep
again, either. I lost too much time.”
“I have willowbark,” he oered. “We can brew it into a strong tea for you or you can chew it. It
will dull the pain, but will cause no harm. You can have it as oen as needed.”

“I’ll have the tea, please,” she agreed. “I’d like that very much.”

He nodded at Missandei, who le again. “Next,” he said, looking from her leg to her face. “We
wait for the swelling to go down so we can remove the splint and plaster your leg. You’ll be
able to get up and around with some help aer that’s done.” He touched her lightly several
inches above the wound. “We’d start here and likely go all the way down to the foot to keep it
stable while the bone heals.”

“The sooner, the better. We’ll have armies returning within the fortnight and I need to be up

for them to see that I live,” she answered, her voice growing testy and impatient.

“This is a dangerous time, the next few weeks, we need that bone to start growing back
together as soon as possible, which requires you to keep o it and keep it still,” the maester
reinforced.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, her tone turning even more cross and irritated.

“How about we all get some more rest,” Jon said quietly. He smiled in relief as Missandei
stepped back into the room, an earthenware cup in her hands.

“It’s bitter,” she warned Dany. “We sweetened it a little with some peppermint leaves, but it’s
still horribly bitter.”

“I don’t care,” Dany answered her, struggling to sit up a little. Jon pushed her upward,
shoving pillows beneath her back to hold her in place. She took the cup and sipped at it.
“This tastes . . .
familiar? I’ve had this before, but I don’t know when.” She shrugged and drank deeply of the
warm tea, lling her belly with it’s weak warmth and bitterness, the medicine spreading through
her sore limbs and injured leg, dulling the agitating throb, making it bearable as the maester laid
fresh bandages down to absorb the water le on her skin.

Jon helped her lay back, and she closed her eyes, relaxing into the relief. The pain was till there,
but enough of the edge had been dulled to make it tolerable. Jon watched as her good leg
stopped twitching in response to the pain, saw Daenerys nally able to relax. He realized that

even the milk of the poppy hadn’t been able to do that for her and likely she’d been in pain for
most of the night. She reached her hand out, laying it at, palm down, on his side of the bed,
hoping he’d get the message. When she felt that side dip down slightly, Jon taking her hand, she
smiled and held his hand as tightly as she could.

“Sleep next to me,” she whispered. “I’m not much feeling like a hero at the moment.”

“Tired, stroppy, and feel like shit, you mean,” he chuckled back.

She sighed heavily. “Yes, all of that.”

He reached over and placed his palm on her belly, just below her navel. Her lambswool shi
was nearly silky to the touch and so very warm. “Give yourself some time to recover,” he urged
tenderly. “You’ve been ghting battle aer battle, and we still have another war to win. Let’s
wait until aer we win that one before we start trying. I’d go insane with worry if we didn’t
know and ”

Daenerys sighed and turned away from him as far as her head would allow, unable to turn the
rest of her to follow suit. Respectfully, Jon removed his hand and turned to lay at on his back,
closed his eyes and waited for her to speak before he hurt her again. He wasn’t even sure which
part of what he’d said was so upsetting, but he could see the tears in her eyes before she’d
turned away, so the best he knew to do was to give her room.

Aer he’d counted o nearly 200 breaths, he turned to look at her again. She was staring at the
heavy canopy over their bed, tears running into her ears and down onto her pillow. He
reached out and touched her face, brushing the wetness away.
“Hey,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to wait, either. I really don’t.”

She nodded, blinking ercely to clear away her tears. “I know,” she said soly. “I
even understand why it would be better to wait, I just My heart wants what it
wants.”

Jon sighed and rolled to face her, nuzzling his face into her shoulder and kissing her gently.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I want to give you what your heart wants, my Love. Let’s see
what the next week brings as far as you getting better, then we’ll go from there, yeah?”

Daenerys nodded slowly. “I wish I could move,” she said ruefully. “My backside is beginning to
ache.”

“Can I move you?” he asked, ready to help her sit up.

“No, I’d rather not,” she sighed. “I’m terried it’s going to hurt.”

Jon nodded. “I can understand that,” he said, grinning. “Do you just need to complain about
it for a bit?”

She hued at him, but didn’t bother hiding her tired smile. “Maybe I do,” she answered.

Jon looked past her, out the window, admiring the bright sky, the grey clouds above thinning
enough to appear white. Blue patches peeked through, giving him hope. “Hey, look out the
window,” he said gently, pointing.

“What am I looking for?” she asked.

Jon smiled at her, then looked past her and out the window again, getting her eyes to follow his.
“Just look out there. What do you see?”

She blinked several times, her brow furrowed. “The sky?” she asked, making him laugh a
little.

“Mmmhmmm.”

“It’s brighter out there,” she whispered.

“That it is,” he agreed. “We’re still in for a Winter, but perhaps not as long or harsh as we
once thought.”

She was quiet for a long moment.”No one will go hungry, then, if Spring comes sooner than
expected.”

Jon squeezed her hand. “You’re right. You did that, Daenerys. You saved everyone.”

“No, I didn’t. You did all the ghting ...... ” She balked at taking all the credit.

“It was your plan that got us up there, Love. I was the one wielding the sword and dagger,
true, but it was you and Tyrion who planned it,” he argued back. “And that’s what I’m sticking
with,

what I’ll tell anyone who asks.”

Jon lied Daenerys onto her horse, pulling her long skirt down over her leg to hide the
plaster still in place. “You’re being ridiculous, I can do that myself,” she hued out at him as
he tried to help her adjust her good leg in the saddle. He unbuckled and removed the stirrup
on her le side completely, ignoring her as he went about his task. “Jon”
“I don’t care what you think, you’re doing this my way or not at all,” he answered a little
more loudly than strictly necessary, struggling to hide his grin. She’d been getting
decidedly................................................................................................................................................... stroppy

was the word that came most to his mind, but cranky bitch had crossed his thoughts a time or
two as well. Daenerys Targaryen did not do well when conned to a bed, and she was to the
point of taking them all down with her before Jon had relented and formulated a plan to get
her outside safely; he’d had her horse brought to the door and managed to carry her out to it
even as she grumped at him about it.

He grabbed the horse’s reins and calmly led them though the gate. “Feels a bit warmer out
here,” he observed. When she didn’t answer right away, he turned to look at her, but her
eyes were on all the people who had stopped to bow or kneel when Jon led her horse past
them. The half frozen mud inside the gates was thick from all the activity, so he led her
straight out the front gates to the hardier grass o the road.

“It seems much warmer than I remember it being when we arrived,” she agreed, smiling at him,
the double meaning not lost on Jon.

“They love you. They’ve seen you risk your own life to ght for them, Love. You’re their Queen
now.” He led her horse further out, and Drogon ew overhead, roaring out his greeting when he
landed even further aeld. “You think she’ll get close enough?” he asked, referring to her horse.

Daenerys sighed and shook her head. “Likely not,” she answered, her disappointment obvious.

“Soon enough,” he assured her, his pace steady as he led her horse through the grass. “It’s
only been ” He counted silently in his head. “Eighteen days.”

“It feels like eighteen years,” she complained. “I want this o. My leg itches and my knee hurts
from not being able to bend it any more than it already is. It’s maddening.” Dany kept the rest of
her complaints and restlessness to herself as she wondered briey why he was taking her so far
away from Winterfell before she stopped thinking about it and enjoyed the beautiful view of
rolling hills and trees in the distance. The grass swished and whispered in the wind that still
had a bite to it, though her hood was unnecessary.
“It makes me terried of when you take to your chamber,” Jon laughed. “You’re going to be
absolutely miserable.”

She wrinkled her nose and squinted her eyes at him in distaste, causing him to laugh again.
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” she answered wryly. “Maybe I’ll be too busy sleeping and getting
everything ready to have time to be miserable. Maybe I won’t have a connement at all. Maybe

I’ll simply be in a council meeting one day and just leave in the middle of it all because it’s
time for the baby to be born,” she teased.

Jon stopped her horse, satised they were far enough away. “Now we’ve managed to get away, I
wanted to talk to you without people hovering over you and in the next room with their ears at
the door.”

“Oh no,” she commented dryly, uncertain.

“It’s not anything terrible, it’s just...we don’t have any privacy unless we make it,” he pointed
out. “And I wanted to speak to you about something personal.”

“I’m going to borrow your term, Jon, and ask you to hit me with it?” she asked, a small smile
on her face.

“When we win this war.....”

Daenerys interrupted with a snort. “Rather presumptuous of you, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “The war I feared I wouldn’t survive has already been won. Now we’re going to be
ghting an army that was counting on outnumbering us. They don’t outnumber us now because
of you. We’ve made plans, we’re as prepared as we can be, so I can’t worry about the rest
right now. My point is this: Are you set on going South right away or would you consider
returning to Winterfell for a time?” he asked.
“I don’t know?” she answered. “I mean, if there was political advantage to it, I suppose we
would. Is that what you’re asking?”

“No,” he replied. “Politics aside. We can be advised and haggled to death about it inside like
they do with everything else, and I’m not asking for that, anyway. I’m asking you personally. What
would you do, if no one was looking or cared what you did and you could make choices
without

any negative consequences?”

She let out a little laugh that felt more like a sob. “If it were up to just me and no one
cared what I did, I’d turn around aer defeating Cersei’s Golden Company and return to
Winterfell, never to leave again. I’ve never felt a place in the world that felt more like
home, Jon. I love it here. I love your family.”

Jon nodded a little at that, ddling with the braided leather reins in his hands. “I was hoping
you’d say that,” he responded quietly.

“Why do you ask?” she asked gently, knowing it had been troubling him, but didn’t know why.

“I’m going to miss it, is all,” he answered. “I’m of the North. King’s Landing I mean, I
didn’t
see the Red Keep any more than what we saw from the ships and the Dragon Pit, but ”

“You didn’t like it,” she nished for him, nding his answer as he looked back at her, and she

nodded slowly in understanding. “It is dierent,” she began. “And I’m not entirely certain we’d
spend many of our days there at rst for quite some time. We’ll have to tour the kingdoms for
certain, and ensure our people know we care about them. It’s going to be a lot of
traveling.” She paused. “My fondest, most secret wish? Something I’ve kept to myself for
weeks now?” Jon’s eyes were focused so intently on her face she stopped in order to
simply look at him and let him see her love for him.

“Tell me,” he prompted. “I want to know.”

She sucked in a deep breath. I want to come back to Winterfell and stay here when it s time for
our baby to be born, stay until we’ve all recovered and we’re ready to go back to the capital as a
family.”

Jon’s smile lit up his whole face, not unlike Sansa’s did when she was really happy. “You’ve
made me a very happy man, Daenerys,” he said nally, then glanced at her sideways, teasing.
“For every baby, or just the rst?”

She let out a hu and an exasperated laugh before turning serious. “I can’t think of that right
now, Jon. I can’t. I meant what I said out there on the Milkwater. I might be able to think of
more once we have one baby, safe and healthy in my arms, but not before then. It seems
greedy,
like......I don’t know. The assumption that all will be well even once seems so far out of reach, so
unrealistic.”

Jon nodded, understanding her for a brief moment before the bitterness of her words sank in.
One at a time, Jon. Take this one at a time. He felt something odd in his gut at that thought.
Here he was, imagining they’d have enough children that there would be at least two always
underfoot and their bed full of wriggling and giggling little bodies every morning, and
Daenerys was barely able to fully grasp enough hope for just one. The feeling in his gut hurt,
the way it traveled up to his heart, how it ached and burned for her.

“I’m sorry we missed our rst chance,” he said gently, looking back up at her, reaching and
grabbing her hand to squeeze and hold. Her face had gone so and sad, but his words made the
tears well up in her eyes before she blinked them ercely away.

“I’m sorry, too.” Her voice matched his. “I wish I hadn’t been in so much pain.”

Jon nodded in agreement, looking out to the hills to give her time to do what she needed to do
without him staring at her. “You were in a lot of pain and I was terried of hurting you more.
That’s why I refused that night,” he said nally. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m holding onto the thought that maybe it wasn’t meant to be so soon. Maybe the child we’re
meant to have won’t take root for another month. Maybe the month aer that,” she replied,
shrugging. It s what I m telling myself anyway.

“That’s.......” he raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. “That’s actually very optimistic of you. Hang
onto that, Love. It’s good and right. I’m holding onto that now, too. Thank you.”

Jon led her horse out further into the grass, out into the sunshine. “What do you see over
there?” he pointed toward the East.

She studied the sky, the land, everything in between. “I see the lands of the North?” she asked.

“No, Love. Over there. See that dark line?” he asked, indicating where he meant.

“No?” she asked. “It’s . . . I think I do...so far away. What is it, Jon?’ she demanded.

“It’s our returning armies, Dany,” he laughed. “They’ll be here aer nightfall. We’d better go
in and get ready. I want a nap and a lling meal before Tormund gets here and wants me to
drink with him. I’m not going to last the night otherwise. Join me?”

We’re nearing the end of this story, my darlings. There’s maybe a handful of chapters le in
this specic tale, but I’m more than willing to do some other stories and turn it into a series if
enough people would kindly let me know if the interest is there.

Remember that tomorrow, October 31st of the year 2017 is Jonerys A/U Fest! I have a 7
chapter story I’m subming that I’ve been working on for weeks, so hope to see some (if
not all) y’all over on Tumblr to vote for your favorite things! Search for the tag: jonerys
a/u fest 

Have a safe and amazing holiday! 

Tangent Chapter 15

Daenerys watched Arya from the barely cracked door as she moved pieces across the map in the
front room, waiting for them to come out. She nudged Jon with her elbow as she nished tying

the front bodice of her dress. “She’s not going to stay behind, Jon,” she whispered to him. “You
shouldn’t try to force her to stay, either.”

“She knows Gendry Waters. He’s going with the Dothraki and half of the North’s army to
Harrenhal. She’s been there before with him, apparently,” Jon answered, keeping his voice
quiet as well. “They have a certain aection for each other.”

“Really?” Dany snorted, her sarcasm heavy and laced with laughter. “I seem to recall her
screaming and inging her arms around him like he was as important to her as you. Is that what
you’re referring to as ‘aection’? I call that love.” She bit back the ‘you idiot’ part that nearly
escaped her mouth. It didn’t need to be said out loud. From the look on his face, he already
knew she was thinking it, his half grin and raised eyebrows challenging her.

“I can hear you both,” Arya called back. “And neither of you can stop me from going.”

Dany looked at Jon and smiled. “I knew you could,” she answered, her voice clear and a
bit louder. “Marry him already, would you? Get on with it.”
Silence from the front room. Dany hopped her way to the door and opened it more. “Arya?” she

asked, looking around, but she was gone. A scratching at the door made her yelp in surprise and
scramble as best she could for her crutch, but Jon beat her to the door, inging it open for Ghost.

Dany sat down in the nearest chair, reaching her arms out for him, and the direwolf walked
directly into her, leaning heavily against her in the chair as she cried into his fur, clinging to him.
“You made it home,” she sobbed, pulling him into her. “You wonderful, brilliant darling. I
missed you so.”

“Wish you’d greet me like that when I come home,” Jon playfully grumbled at her.

“Oh, you get your own greeting and reward for coming home,” she shot back, sniing, then
turned back to Ghost. “I was so very worried about you.” Ghost shoved his nose in her face
and

she pressed her cheek to his muzzle, stroking his face with one hand, wiping her tears with the
other. “What took you so long to get home?”

He panted silently at her, then lay down at her feet, resting his great head in her lap. Jon
smiled at them. “Mother of Dragons and Direwolves.”

“Yes,” she agreed, smoothing Ghost’s fur, stroking around his ears and face. She leaned forward
and kissed him between his great red eyes. “I missed you.”

“We’re going to be late,” Jon reminded her, pointing to the door. “Ghost, let her up, would you?”

She tried to li Ghost’s head from her lap, but he turned on his own and snied at her leg. “I
know, it’s.......I hate it, I really do,” she whispered to him. “The itching is slowly driving me
mad.
Maybe in a few days I can have it o.” She gave him another loving stroke. “I need to go to
dinner, everyone is home now and we’re expected. You can stay and sleep, or you can come eat
with us.”
Ghost turned from her and stretched out on the heavy fur rug in front of the re. “That’s the
choice I’d make, too,” she agreed. “I’ll see you aer.”

Jon helped her up from the chair and eased his arms behind her legs and back, liing her and
carrying her to the door. He turned to look at Ghost. “Good to have you home, lad. Thanks for
saving my ass up there.” The direwolf lazily opped his tail against the oor, acknowledging Jon’s
words. “And that’s the extent of attention he gives me,” Jon grumbled as they stepped out of the
room. “You’ve spoiled him.”

“He just needed someone to give him aection,” she defended. “No wonder he was so insistent
that I not be afraid of him.”

“You’re heavier with the cast,” he teased as he carried her down the passageway to the
Great Hall. “Seven Hells, how do you haul that thing around everywhere?”

“Well, in case you didn’t know......” she began, wrapping her arms around his neck and nuzzling
him under his jaw. “It’s rather rmly attached to me and I have no bloody choice in the matter.”

“You ready for this?” he asked, squirming away from her as she peppered little kisses down his
neck. “Quit that. I don’t want to drop you.”

“You won’t drop me,” she murmured, stiing her laugh. “You love me too much.”

He grunted out a laugh. “That I do,” he agreed. He didn’t need to even pause at the door, the
guards opening it for him as they approached, the Great Hall erupting in noise as he stepped
over the threshold and into the room, hundreds of candles in chandeliers and sconces lighting it
merrily as he carried her to her seat at the High Table. He deposited her carefully next to Sansa
and took his seat on her other side, yells and cheers and raised cups making more noise than
she could discern besides a great roar.

Lord Glover stood, his hands out in a motion so he could speak, the Hall nally quieting down. “I
was as suspicious as anyone in this room when our King in the North brought Daenerys
Targaryen under the protection of this House,” he paused and held up his cup toward them and
drank deeply. “But I see now that my King chose our Queen wisely, recognizing her true heart,

her bravery, and her love of us all, though we would have turned her away.” He slammed his
empty cup down on the table and drew his sword, kneeling before her at the High Table.
“Our Queen in the North!”

“Our Queen in the North!”

Stunned, Daenerys looked from the growing number of kneeling lords to Jon, who simply
smiled at her and raised his cup to toast her before drinking. He leaned toward her, touching
her forehead with his. “I told you they’d come to see you for who you are,” he said, grinning at
her. “It’s good to be right once in a while.” He kissed her soly, causing further noise to rise in
the Hall.

She made to stand, and Jon helped her up, steadying her. “Thank you, my Lords and Ladies,” she
began, her tears rising but she was able to ght them back. “We’re only half done with the ght,
unfortunately. We still have a war to wage with the false queen sitting on the Iron Throne.
Most of their army, the Golden Company, have been delayed in crossing the Narrow Sea
due to Winter storms, but they are coming, my lords. We don’t know where they’re going
to make port, we don’t know their numbers, though rumor states it will be some ten
thousand men.”

A hush fell over the tables, all eyes focused on her. “Cersei Lannister had hoped she could
overcome us by numbers alone, hoping we would nearly all be dead from ghting for the Dawn,
but now we have the numbers to match them in battle, wherever in Westeros we should meet.”

Lady Lyanna Mormont stood, Ser Jorah with her. “House Mormont recognizes that it is
because of our Queen that we all survived,” she called out, looking around the room. “Our
Queen pledged her armies, her dragons, her very life to the cause.” She pointed to Danys’ leg.
“And defeated the enemy, our King and Queen risking their very lives for us all. I willingly
bend the knee to the True Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“And I willingly and wholeheartedly serve the North as I will the other six kingdoms of our
realm,” Daenerys swore to her, looking around the room. “And Lady Sansa Stark is hereby named
my Wardeness in the North, to bring me your troubles and cares, to serve you through me.”

Sansa stood, smiling. “I shall serve both my Queen and the North with duty and joy,” she
promised. She moved to Dany’s side, a curtsy that fell to a kneel. “May the Seven Kingdoms
forever prosper with your reign, Your Grace.”

A deep and low ache overcame her as Maester Wolkan soaked and cut away at her plaster
with hot water, wet cloths, and sharp scissors. Her hand went to her abdomen, feeling the
ache slowly spread through her hips before it receded. Her moon blood was coming. Aer
the initial wave of sadness, she felt something dierent. She could start counting the days all
over again, and with the cast coming o ve to seven days aer she was nished bleeding,
she and Jon
could start trying again. The Battle for the Dawn was over. They only faced Cersei’s army now,
and Dany wasn’t nearly as afraid of the living and breathing army yet to come as she was of
the Night King and his Walkers.

“Your Grace?” he questioned.

“It’s nothing,” she assured him. “Only my moon’s blood will come soon. I ache a little.”

“Would Your Grace like something for the discomfort?” he asked.

“No, it’s not bothersome enough for that,” she assured him. “I’d rather feel it. I’m hoping it may
be my last for quite some time.”

The maester nodded solemnly before continuing his work. “I am at your disposal for any
needs you may have in any regard, Your Grace,” he assured her.

Daenerys reached out and took his hand. “I know, and I thank you,” she said quietly. “I
appreciate your counsel in this.”
He gently prodded where her stitches had been. “Does the esh cause you pain?” he asked.

“No, but the bone beneath is rather tender,” she answered as he ran his ngers along her thigh
bone, testing it.

“It will be for several more weeks,” he answered, pulling back and nodding. “But you are
healing well. This bone happens to be the largest and thickest in your body, it holds your
weight and
frame while you are upright,” he explained. “It needs more time than most to grow
strong again.”

He pried apart the cast, and Dany turned her nose up at the smell. “Well, that’s just awful.”

“It’s nothing unusual,” he assured her, gesturing for Missandei to come in with her bowl of hot
water and soap. “No infection, no malformation of the healing bone, and certainly no other

complications impeding your full and complete recovery, Your Grace.”

“Please tell me that you’re going to make it stop itching, too,” she asked her friend with a laugh,
glad to see her.

“First, we’ll wash it, then I have oil for your skin,” Missandei promised.

“Lord Tyrion’s gi is ready for you, Your Grace,” the maester said, bringing out the metal and
leather contraption.

Dany nodded. “He had Gendry Waters help him with it, he said,” she recalled. “They’ve forged
me a brace so I can get around without Jon needing to carry me or using that awful crutch.”

“You’ll be able to go outside?” Missandei asked. “Drogon misses you. Jon goes out to see them
daily, but Drogon always looks around Jon, waiting for you.”
“I know,” Dany answered sadly, but sighed in pleasure and relief as Missandei washed her leg,
laying back and humming. “That’s so much better,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Stop getting hurt and we’ll stop torturing you,” Missandei jested with a smile. She glanced at
the maester before she whispered to Daenerys. “If I may, could I have your counsel, Your
Grace?” she asked hesitantly.

Daenerys opened her eyes in surprise. “Of course,” she said, hauling herself upright.
“Whatever you might need of me, it’s yours.”

“It wouldn’t be until aer the war is over, of course,” Missandei began, looking down at her
hands while she worked the oil into Dany’s dry skin. “But we, Grey Worm and I.....many of the
Unsullied would like to stay here in Westeros aer the war is over.” She paused a long moment
to let Daenerys consider the implications.

Curious as to what her friend was leading up to, Dany nodded for her to continue. “Go on,”
she urged. “Why do you need my advice for that?”

“With the compensation you’ve promised them, many would like to take it and start using it to
adopt children to help in the reconstruction, Your Grace,” she answered. “From what we know
and have seen of war, many children will be le without parents, without protectors, which
oen leaves a generation gap in the years to come as they perish from neglect. To serve their
queen in the future, the Unsullied would like to help prevent that gap in population and
prosperity by ensuring the abandoned children have safe homes and do not starve, Your
Grace.”

Stunned, Daenerys sat back against her pillows. “I.thank you for bringing this to my
attention.
I have been trying to solve this very thing for months, but I hadn’t had the time yet to think
of anything eective other than lling the purses of the orphanages to the best of our ability. I
will bring this news to my Hand and Jon this aernoon.” She stared at the red and dark
pink gash in her leg. It matched the deep one on Jon’s chest where the boy had stabbed
him. “The sooner, the better, I think. Thank you, Missandei. We will work out the details,
and please, if Grey Worm or any of the other Unsullied have thoughts on this or any other
matter of the reconstruction, please bring it to my attention. We need all of our minds to
take care of our people.”
Missandei helped Dany dress in long wool stockings and her favorite breeches, easing her down

onto the bed as the maester prepared the brace, showing them both how to buckle the leather
straps and how to secure the hinge at the knee to support the weight of her injured leg. Aer
her warm leather boots were laced and tightened, the maester buckled the last strap securely
at the ankle and helped Dany to stand before he stepped backward and held his hands out for
her to take as she walked the few steps forward.

“Go slowly, Your Grace. If it causes pain, stop and we’ll adjust it,” he encouraged, his eyes on her
feet to watch how she walked.

Daenerys picked up her le foot and swung it forward slowly before placing her foot rmly on
the oor again, shiing her weight from her good leg to her injured one, smiling a little. “My knee
aches a bit from disuse,” she observed as she rested her weight briey on her wounded leg
before taking another step. “But it doesn’t hurt to walk.”

All three of their heads rose as the front room door opened and shut, the particular and
distinct sound of Jon’s boots on the stone oor coming toward them. He entered the
bedchamber, the cold outside had tinged his face pink, snow still thick in his hair. He looked up
at them and gave a pleased smile to Dany. “You’re up,” he greeted, tossing his ice encrusted
cloak and gloves onto the rack near the re. He bent over and shook his head like Ghost did aer
coming in out of the snow, shaking the snow and water out of his hair before moving to her
side. The maester and Missandei le the room, giving them some privacy.

Jon slid his hands around her lambswool shirt, caressing her waist. “Thank the gods you got that
impossible thing o. Hurt at all?” he asked, pulling her close. “I love how warm you are.”

She smiled a little and kissed him soly, nestling herself into his arms. “It doesn’t hurt,” she
answered. She looked at his now dripping cloak. “Still snowing out, hmm?”

“It is,” he answered. “Thick and fast. We might get another few feet before it stops. We’ve
been clearing as many paths as we can out there.”
She let out a contented sigh against his chest, his warm scent comforting her. “I’m.......My moon’s
blood is coming,” she said soly against his shoulder. “And then about a week aer that we

can.....”

He craned his neck down and kissed her cheek. “I’m ready,” he said gently. “I know you are.” He

kissed her ear before he whispered into it. “Must we wait until that time?”

“No,” she answered, her voice turning into a little breathless laugh. “But that’s when it’ll
happen.”

“I think we should warm up to that, don’t you? Practice a few times?” he prompted, grinning
against her hair before he tucked his face into her neck, rubbing his bearded chin against her
so skin, making her squirm and giggle.

“What? Like now?” she asked, laughing a little more. “You want to right now.”

“Well, if Your Grace insists,” he chuckled. She smacked him lightly on the chest, making him
laugh more. “You fell for it. What was I supposed to do, let that opportunity sneak by me?”

“Gods, you’re infuriating sometimes,” she laughed. She pressed her lips to his chest, then moved
lower, parting her lips and teeth over his nipple.

“Don’t you dare bite me,” he threatened, making her laugh even more. “It’s torture when
you bite, Dragon Queen.”

A heavy knock sounded on their bedroom door, making Daenerys catch her breath,
startled. “The time for play is over,” Tyrion’s voice called out. “We’re convening in the Great
Hall. Either make it fast or keep it for later. You have a half hour before I’ll send someone to
fetch you.” They heard him turn and leave their chambers, shutting the door loudly as he
stepped out.
“You’ll have to wait a few days if we don’t make it fast,” she whispered to him. “I’m going to start
in a few hours, at most. Please Jon, make it fast.”

Jon grinned against her lips as he kissed her, tugging on the laces of her breeches.
“Shit, you’ve how do we get that o?” he demanded, tapping her brace.

“Work around it,” she said rmly, opening his pants and pushing them down, grabbing him and
startling him as she gently squeezed. “This is mine.”

“How the fuck am I to work around it?” he demanded, trying to not laugh at the look of
determination on her face when he attempted to push her hands away from his rapidly growing
cock.

“Just.......oh here,” she said, heaving a sigh of mock frustration as she let him go. She tugged
down her breeches and then sat on the bed, pulling only her right leg out. “ There. That’s how
you work around it.”

“And now you’re right where I want you,” he growled in a whisper, kneeling on the braided rug
and pushing her back on the bed, wasting no time in leaning forward to swipe his tongue up
her sex.

Dany hummed her approval, combing her ngers in his hair as he teased and suckled at her

esh. “You taste dierent,” he murmured against her. “Still so good, just ...... dierent.”

“I expect so,” she whispered breathlessly. “I think you’ve only ever done this while I was
........................................................................................................................................................................... ahh,
Jon,” she trailed o, biting back her groan as he pushed his tongue into her. “Gods, Jon. Yes.”

He hummed in approval as he clutched near painfully at her bare hips, pulling her closer. He was
doing his best to distract her from her train of thought, which she deeply appreciated; both the
method and intent. He’d only ever had his mouth on her while she was pregnant.
Soon, he was backing away from her, scooting her up the bed onto the pillows, following her
straight down, not wasting a spare second in impaling her, kissing her ercely as he began to

aggressively ram into her, making her bite her lip to keep her wail controlled. “It’s been
weeks,” he growled out between thrusts. “And there’s no time to play. I need you.”

She arched her back, moving with him. “Please, Jon,” she begged. “Harder. Ride me
harder. I need more.”

“You’re lthy today,” he teased, complying. “I like it.” She hued out a laugh that ended on a
long, drawn out gasp as she rolled her hips against his onslaught, exing her muscles around him
to draw as much pleasure from him as she could. “Ah, gods. I can feel that,” he groaned,
hanging his head down to press his forehead against her chest.

Suddenly, he pulled out of her, making her squeak in protest, but he simply rolled her onto her

belly and plunged back in as far as he could, his harsh groan blending with her cry of
pleasure. “Daenerys,” he seethed, his pace growing cruel and harsh as she backed into him
as best she
could, encouraging him as he reached down to stimulate her for a moment as he pounded her
from behind, letting her go as he let himself go inside her, biting her on the shoulder as he
groaned out with the force of it.

Dany smiled into the pillow as he went limp on top of her, heaving and gasping for air. She
wiggled her hips slightly, and he pinched her gently on her side, tickling her as he pulled out.
“You owe me one,” she said.

“What? You didn’t?” he demanded, ipping her over.

“No, but I liked it just the same and we have no time for that,” she answered, attempting
to sit up. “Later. We have to get dressed and go.”

“Oh the hells with that,” he growled at her, lowering his mouth to suckle on her, thrusting his
ngers into her and sucking until she was rolling her hips and whimpering, squeezing his ngers
as he helped her ride out her orgasm, pulling away as she began to come down from her high.
“I
don’t like being beholden to anyone, even my wife.”

“Proud of yourself, are you?” she panted.

“Yeah, I am, actually,” he deadpanned, standing up and replacing his shirt. “I’m also relieved you

nally got that monstrosity o your leg. I can work with the brace, but that plaster was hideous.”
His pants, which had never made it all the way o him, were easily donned once more. He
smirked and winked at her when she laughed. “Your face is all pink and gorgeous,” he teased.
“They’re going to take one look at you and know exactly why we’re late.”

“I think it’ll all be excused once we give them an heir, Jon,” she said soly, smiling at him as he
gently tugged her shirt over her head before helping her stand up again. “Oh no,” she
protested in warning when he put his hand on the handle of the door. “Go wash your hands
and face before you even think of stepping out there.”

“What? You’re afraid Ser Jorah’s going to come sni at my face?” he asked, then laughed as the
pillow hit him on the chest.

“You’re awful,” she giggled, but pointed to the washbasin. “I’m afraid it’s a bit more obvious
than that.”

He looked at his hand. “Oh,” he said, sobering up quickly at the sight of the faint, pale pink
stain on his ngers. “Please tell me this isn’t because I hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” she said rmly. “But we don’t want to risk the slight chance anyone else sees that,
especially now.”

Jon came to her then, kissing her gently, lovingly. “Here’s to the last one,” he said meaningfully.
“The last time you’ll bleed for quite some time.” He stepped over to their basin and washed
himself as she’d asked, then opened the door. “I’ll leave you to sort yourself out. See you in a
bit. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Her answer was heartfelt and made her tear up a little.

Tangent Chapter 16

Daenerys woke when Jon laid his hand on her shoulder and jostled her gently. She was
surprised to open her eyes and see him already dressed, ready to leave the warmth of
Winterfell. “Raven arrived a few minutes ago,” he whispered, giving her a chance to wake
before he leaned down to kiss her. “The Golden Company has landed in King’s Landing and
they’re riding North. We’ve got to move.” The world beyond the window told her it was still too
early for the light to have come.

Disappointment ran through her. It was The Day if they wanted to conceive, and now they had to
leave Winterfell. She wondered if Jon remembered, but realized that he very likely did and it
couldn’t be helped at the moment. “Right,” she answered, sitting up and very gently turning her
body so her feet were on the oor. “Where’s Missandei .....”

“I’m here, Daenerys,” she said, coming to her side. “Everything’s ready.”

Dany stood slowly, and gingerly took the few steps from the bed to the chair. Jon grabbed her
arm to help her while Missandei helped her put on the heavy wool socks and long wool pants
before pulling her leather breeches over the top. Jon knelt down and helped her strap on her
splint as Missandei worked on her boots, lashing it down on top of her sti leather boot and
securing the buckles.
Jon, already dressed and ready, had her silver fur coat in his hands, ready for her to turn so
he could drop it gently over her shoulders. She condently walked to him, her leg supported
and pain free. “All you need to do is walk out to Drogon,” he said quietly. “Let him do the
rest.”

“Where are our armies?” she asked.

He grinned at her. “The Dothraki are holding Riverrun, the Unsullied and the army of the North
are holding Harrenhal with Arya and Gendry. They all made their posts in time. Everything’s
ready, they just need us to y in.”

He pressed a biscuit into her hand, melted cheese inside the warm bread. “Eat it on the way,
can’t have you getting hungry. We’ll have a proper meal when we get there.” He guided her

gently down the long, dimly lit corridors.

“Does my leg still count as me being wounded?” she asked wryly as they walked through the
passages to reach the gates. “Because I’d rather just stick with the leg instead of adding
something new this time.”

“Talk to Drogon about that. I’m sure he’d like for you to not get hurt, either,” he said pointedly.

As soon as they were through the gates, the hills all around them sparkling brightly in the
moonlight, Jon grabbed her hand and pulled her close to kiss her. “I love you,” he whispered.
“Stay safe up there, we’ve got kingdoms to rule and babies to make.”

She hued out a laugh. “You be safe too,” she whispered back, running her thumb against his
bottom lip, seeing their breaths mingle and rise between their faces before disappearing into the
cold. “I need your help to rule the kingdoms and to make the babies, Jon.”
He smiled at her, then nodded. “Let’s get you back out there on Drogon. We’ve got an army to
meet.”

Drogon and Rhaegal waited for them, already knowing it was time to go. He grabbed her
hand and squeezed it. “Will you reconsider going to Riverrun over Harrenhal?”

“No,” she said rmly. “We stay together. I’m going with you to Harrenhal. That was the plan
agreed upon by all our war council, and that’s the strategy I’m keeping.”

He nodded. “Blame me for trying?” he asked.

“No, but I’m glad there’s no time to argue about it,” she said, turning from him and crossing the
short distance of ice encrusted snow to Drogon’s side, stroking him soly on his face and around
his great red eye. He lowered his wing and shoulder for her to climb on, and with gritted teeth
and a bit of struggle, she managed to settle on his back with only slight pain to her leg. Her
stomach in knots, she wordlessly urged him to take ight, feeling something akin to fear for the
rst time as they le the glittering snow for the starry skies above.

Aer an hour or more, the sun began to rise on her le, so she turned to admire the pink line of
the early morning horizon. She didn’t feel the cold so acutely as she had North of the Wall,
Drogon producing more than enough warmth beneath her. With the coming dawn she could see
Rhaegal and Jon below her on her right, the faint morning sun glittering o Rhaegal’s scales. She
placed a hand on Drogon’s neck, his warmth reassuring her.

It wasn’t many more hours before she could see the ruined castle in the distance, eyes growing
wide at the immense destruction by Balerion the Dread as they circled above it, gradually
lowering their altitude until Drogon was alighting on the ground, more agile than he’d ever done
before. He knows I’m still hurt, she realized.

Dany didn’t know whether to stay on him or dismount, so she waited for Jon, who was
already on the ground and meeting with Lords Glover and Cerwin, Arya standing behind
them with her arms crossed, Needle and the catspaw at her hips. Jon turned to look at her,
waving at her to stay where she was for the moment, so she relaxed against Drogon as he
settled on the grass. She stared up at the immense towers in front of her, their bulging and
wilted state making her
throat thick with sadness and awe. She noticed the wind o the lake was bitter and damp,
permeating her hair and collecting on the fur of her coat in tiny beads of water like on a spider’s
web, a slight steam rising o Drogon as they waited.

When Jon came for her, Drogon shied his shoulder to help her down, easing her
nearly into Jon’s arms. “All right?” he whispered, kissing her cheek.

“I am,” she reassured him as they began to walk toward the high walls of Harrenhal. “My
leg’s tired, though.”

“Let’s go inside and get comfortable for a few hours. We’ve got time yet,” Jon said quietly,
waving at people as they walked past.

“How much time?” she asked anxiously.

“Time enough for our other duty to the realm, Your Grace. It would have to be today,
wouldn’t it?” he asked, giving her a half smile.

She smiled in relief. He remembered. She shook her head as she replied, “That does seem to
be how things work for us, doesn’t it?” she asked.

He held the heavy oak door open for her, his hand on her back as he guided her through. “Truer
words were never spoken, Your Grace,” he agreed, that half smile still on his face, his voice
just a trie louder than she expected. She loved that he kept his hand against her back as Arya
led them through the Hall to one of the ruined towers, to a set of rooms at the end of the
long stairway.

“It’s far away from everyone else,” she said quietly. “You two can talk here without anyone
overhearing. Latest raven came an hour before you did, the Golden Company was crossing the
Blackwater Rush. They’re going to pass right between us and Riverrun, likely tomorrow. The
rest of the Lannister forces are with them.”
Dany nodded, then looked at Jon. “We’re going to get some sleep,” he said. “We’ll meet with
everyone in the Great Hall in a few hours, we can plan the battleeld then.”

Arya gave him a quick smile and then le soundlessly. “Get some sleep,” Dany repeated. She
didn’t know whether or not she even wanted to take her coat o in this castle, the air from the
lake so damp and cold. “Is that the bedchamber back there?” she asked, but then went to the
door herself, pushed it open and entered.

A re in the replace chased o the immediate chill, and when Dany took o her coat and hung it
near the re to dry, she shivered slightly. “It’s colder here than I thought it would be,” she
whispered.

“It is,” Jon agreed, going to the high window. “It’s open. No wonder it’s cold,” he observed.
He pulled a table over to the wall and climbed up, pulling the hinged plate of glass closed.
“There.”

The ceilings were high. Daenerys admired the open timbers of it so high above her. “It’s
beautiful and sad here,” she whispered, easing herself down into a chair near the re, waiting
for the room to warm a little. “I mean, I know the history, but actually seeing it what a
beautiful
place this must have been before.......”

She sat and watched as Jon shrugged out of his cloak and hung it next to hers, kicked o his
boots and shed his brigandine away from the re’s warmth to prevent the heat from warping the
leather. He loosened the laces of his leather vest underneath, pulling it over his head
before pulling o his socks. He looked up pointedly at her. “We don’t have a whole lot of time,”
he said gently. “And I want to spend as much of it as I can in that bed with you.”

“Oh,” she whispered. She pushed herself up onto her feet and went to the edge of the
bed, unbuckling and unlacing as best she could, when a very naked Jon nally came to her aid,
removing her boots and pulling gently at pants and stockings aer the brace hit the stone oor
with a sharp, metallic clatter.
He pushed her back slowly with a hand on her chest and he knelt up from the oor and slid up
her body between her legs, easily liing her up to the pillows. She shivered slightly, so he
grabbed the blanket at the foot of the bed and pulled it up over them. “You won’t care about
the
cold for long,” he whispered, kissing her soly on the neck. “I promise.”

Dany hummed at him and tilted her head back to give him full access to her neck, sighing as he
gently rubbed his chin up her jaw. His skin was warm against hers, pressed against her
wherever he could manage. She ran her hands from his shoulders down his arms, then
smoothing them up
from his hips to his back.

“You’re tense,” he whispered against her mouth. “We can’t do this if you’re tense.”

She nodded. “I know, I’m trying not to be,” she whispered back.

Jon kissed her soly on the lips, then moved down her chin to her neck, trailing his mouth over

her breasts, inhaling her scent as he kissed his way down to her navel. He stopped there, kissing
her and slid his hands from her waist up her ribcage to her breasts, letting his ngers do the
work for him, grinning against her skin as she sighed and rolled her hips up to him,
pressing herself to his chest, nding no relief. “I love you,” he whispered, then moved down,
holding her thighs apart with gentle hands as he began to kiss her, lick her, groaning at her
aroused scent as he suckled at her. “There we go,” he whispered as she began to move
with him, needing more. “That’s better, Love.”

“I need you, Jon,” she whimpered.

“You have me, Daenerys,” he answered, ignoring her plea and her hands as she tried to grab
him and pull him up to her. “But I’m busy right now.” He fended her o and dove for her again,
feeling pleased with himself as she gasped out and whimpered every time he passed his
tongue over her.

Finally, she hued out a laugh. “I’m in a strange, cold bed and you have all the blanket down
there. Come up here, please?”
He moved up, grinning at her. “See, now was that so hard to ask nicely?” he teased as he pushed
himself into her.

She sighed soly. “That’s what I wanted.”

“Good,” he groaned. “You always feel so good.”

She wrapped her legs around his hips, and one of his hands dried down to stroke her leg
before he tucked it under her rear and pulled her tighter against him as he thrust into her
deeper and kissed her.

Suddenly, a knock at their door made him pause, hovering over her mid-thrust as she tensed
up beneath him again. Godsdammit. It took forever to relax and now.“Later,” he growled out.

“We’ll be out later.” He looked down at her and smiled before he kissed her, a hot and quick sup
at her mouth.

“Your Grace, I must insist......” She didn’t recognize the voice, which just made her tense up
more.

He rolled his eyes, looking away from her toward the door. “I really must insist you fuck o. We’ll
be down later,” he emphasized. Seven Hells, he mouthed to her.

That’s all it took. She sighed and relaxed under him, and he grinned down at her again, grinding
against her the way she loved as they kept so quiet that they could hear the footsteps fade away
from their outer rooms. Daenerys bit her lip against the moan rising from her chest, quelling it,
ghting any sound as Jon moved so deeply within her. She wrapped her arms around his
shoulders and pulled herself up to whisper in his ear. “I’m close,” she gasped out, nipping him
on the earlobe.

“I know,” he whispered back against her cheek. “Hang on to me. I like it when you do that.”
She sucked in a breath and used her arms to hold onto him, her back and shoulders o the bed
completely as she let her head roll back, exposing her neck once more, hissing out as he nipped

at her. “Don’t mark me, Jon,” she warned.

“I won’t,” he assured her. “Though who would really care if I did?”

“Me,” she answered, then arched her body slightly, making him groan in pleasure as he
began to speed up his leisurely pace. She hummed out her approval, bringing her mouth
back to his as she began to fall apart, clinging onto him as he started to grind against her,
drawing out her pleasure as he found his, biting her lower lip as he sucked it, no longer
capable of an actual kiss as he growled into her mouth.

Daenerys let go of his neck, falling back soly onto the bed. Jon grabbed one of the pillows from
behind her and propped her hips up with it, smiling at her. “I’m gonna just stay for a bit,” he
panted out, relaxing against her.

She brought her hands up to comb through his tangled curls, cradling his head against her
chest. “Where did you learn that?” she asked.

“Learn what?” he asked as he turned slightly and kissed the breast under his cheek.

She wriggled her hips at him a little. “ The pillow thing?” she asked. He slipped out of her.
“Oops,” she whispered, giggling.

He laughed a little. “Oh, that,” he said, then shrugged. “Nobody, really. It just makes
sense, doesn’t it? When you’re up like that, nothing comes out.”

“I thought maybe your Wildling girl had taught you that,” she whispered.
“Ygritte? No.” He chuckled at the thought, then shook his head. “Her favorite thing to do was
make fun of me. Then she shot me full of arrows because I wouldn’t help them kill people.”

“Oh,” Dany responded, surprised. “But you loved her? She shot you!?”

Jon nodded. “Aye, she did, and I loved her,” he agreed. “Though now......now it feels like I liked
her well enough, but not really loved her the way I thought I did.” He seemed thoughtful, so
Dany watched him from the comfort of the bed until he had considered and sorted his
thoughts. “It’s like shit. I can’t compare. I don’t want to. She’s gone and you’re here. I had
to learn a few
things so I could appreciate love properly, I think.”

“Oh Jon,” she whispered. “I feel the same.”

To her disappointment, he moved o her and pulled on his pants. “I’m done in for a bit,” he
whispered, sitting down next to her on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Was it the talking?”

“No,” he answered, covering her carefully with the blanket. “It wasn’t, I promise.” He
stretched out next to her and kissed her cheek as he rested his arm over her chest. “I love
you, Daenerys.”

“I love you, Jon,” she answered. She brought her hand up from under the blanket to touch him,
his beard tickling her ngers as she traced his jawline and face before moving it downward, over
his heart and pausing for a moment to feel it beat under her palm, then continuing downward
into the front of his laced pants.

“What are you doing?” he asked, amused.

“Trying to get you to change your mind,” she answered mildly, looking up from where her
hand was to his face smiling
“I don’t know if I can go again for a bit,” he whispered in warning, but kissed her just the same.

“I need you to, Jon. I need this,” she said quietly, urgently. She shied from her back to her
side,

sliding down the bed until she was eye level with his cock, only slightly hard despite her hand
stroking him. She pulled the laces open as far as they could go and then sucked him into her
mouth.

“Daenerys!” he yelled. “What the . . . shit....yeah.” He groaned and rolled to his back, his
hands
buried in her her hair as she moved with him, shiing to kneel between his thighs as she ran
her tongue along the bottom of his cock, sighing through her nose as he took a handful of her
hair and moved it out of the way so she could breathe.

She grinned to herself as he rapidly began to harden and swell, pulling back to look him in
the eyes. “You taste of me,” she whispered, then lowered her mouth to him again, keeping
her eyes
on his as he began to move with her, watching his face as it contorted in pleasure, that re so
familiar to her igniting behind his eyes. The Blood of the Dragon runs as hot in him as it does
me. His hands were gripping her hair a fraction too tightly, the pain causing nerve endings down
her spine to come to life.

He let out a groan as she nally released him, sitting back to gauge his reaction. “Get on your
knees,” he whispered hoarsely, sitting up and pulling her toward him. He took her hands and had
her grab onto the low headboard before he moved behind her. “Hang on.”

Dany braced herself in anticipation, knowing what was coming. He grabbed her hips and
penetrated her slightly, teasing her, gliding in and out for barely a breath before he slammed
his hips ush against her ass, taking her as deeply as he could, making her wail out in pleasure.
He didn’t wait, didn’t try to stimulate her in any way, just kept hitting her over and over again
as deeply as he could. Dany could feel it building inside her; she was going to come without
any extra help from him, loving how rough he could be without hurting her, she trusted him to
not hurt her, she could feel his groans vibrating through them both as he went harder, faster,
Daenerys nally surrendering, crying out with it as he slammed into her one last time, keeping
himself pressed inside against that spot that felt so good it made her ache as he bellowed out
his
release.

He laid his head against her back as she let go of the headboard, his breath coming out in
heaves and gasps, not at all unlike her own. “Warn me rst next time you do that,” he gasped
out, making her laugh under him. He pulled the pillow under her hips and pushed her down to
the bed with a warm palm between her shoulder blades. “Keep that beautiful ass in the air for
me,” he whispered, then pulled out of her, backing away and nipping her on one rounded
cheek, causing her to squeal and jump. “Most gorgeous ass in Westeros,” he groaned, running
his hands over her.

“I’m afraid there’s a bit of competition for that title,” she answered back, her voice mued by
the pillows.

He leaned down and pulled the bedding away from her face. “Say again?” he teased.

“There’s a bit of competition for that title,” she repeated. “But it matters not, seeing as the
competition is in this bed with me.”

He moved closer to her and kissed the tip of her nose as he chuckled. “Get some sleep,” he
whispered. “And we’ll give it another go tonight aer dinner. I swear to you, if it’s in my
power, there will be an extra Targaryen leaving Harrenhal with us when we go home.”

Daenerys stood with Jon on the edge of the hill above the battleeld, Drogon and Rhaegal
behind them. High Heart, the hill was called. Arya wouldn’t go up to where they were, nor
would she say why, so she stood with Gendry lower down on the slope. “They’re late,” she
observed. “I wonder what kept them.”

On the eld below, the Unsullied and the Dothraki anked the Northern armies. She could see
the Golden Company lines, archers in front of their cavalry, and she could plainly see that
they were outnumbered though they had spread out to hide it.
 They y a banner of truce, Grey Worm said grimly, squinting his eyes to see better.

Dany looked at Jon and he shrugged. “Then we go down there and talk. They didn’t expect to be
outnumbered, I’m guessing.” He looked at the assembled lords and leaders. “Grey Worm, I want
you and Lord Glover, Lord Jaime Lannister and Clegane to ride with us. Daenerys,” he said,
looking to her in warning. “Keep your head. We burn no one under a banner of truce, no matter
how they try to provoke.”

She turned to look at him, then Tyrion, who tried to look as if he hadn’t heard Jon. “Do you want
me to go at all?” she demanded. “Or would you rather I stay behind?”

“No, we need you,” Jon answered, reaching his hand out for hers. “We’ll ride our horses.”

“No, I will ride Drogon,” she countered. “I won’t risk us if the banner proves false.”

“It will be seen as a threat,” Jon protested. “Ride your horse.”

She looked down the hill, then back at him. It came out before she could stop it; her knee-jerk
reaction was to openly defy his perceived order. “No, I will ride Drogon.”

Jon leaned over to her, bringing his mouth to her ear. “You’re spoiling for a ght. Stand down, I’m
trying to help.”

Dany looked at him before she narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. He was challenging
her. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do,” she said slowly.

He grabbed her gently by the elbow and pulled her aside where they could talk at least a
little privately. “I swear to gods, Daenerys, do not go down there with Drogon. They’ll retract
that banner and a lot of people will die needlessly before we have a chance to hear what they
have to say. I know you, probably better than anyone at this point. You’re posturing for a ght,
and
you’re in absolutely no condition ..... ” he dropped o, not wanting anyone to hear him. He
looked down toward the battleeld. “Compromise. You ride your horse, Drogon and Rhaegal
circle above us, ready to dive and burn it all to the ground at the slightest hint of deception.

Agreed?”

“Fine,” she answered tersely.

He leaned over to her. “Do not start with me right now. We’re a united front, remember?” he
replied, keeping his tone low and even.

“We were until you started telling me what to do,” she snapped back.

He shook his head and stalked o, returning with their horses. He pointed to hers. “Get on the
fucking horse, Daenerys. I’m not having any of this bullshit from you today.”

Stunned, she permitted him to help her onto her horse and she took the reins from him, but
refused to look at him until he put his hand on her knee. “Let’s not stretch the ght out for a
week like we did before,” he said quietly. “You can be mad all you want, I don’t care right now. If
we live through the day, we’ll sort it later. If not, I love you, Daenerys. I want you to know that
if everything else goes to shit.”

Her heart thumped sickeningly in her chest. He was serious, and he wasn’t certain they’d win the
ght if it came to that. “I love you too,” she whispered, then kicked her horse to join the rest of
the party, Ser Jorah and Sandor Clegane following closely behind her. With the Northern
lords behind her, she turned to look for Jon, then pulled her horse up to wait for him.
“United front,” she said soly, and felt relieved when he nodded at her.

As they approached the men in the center of the eld under the banner of truce, she quickly
sized them up. One was an overweight man with greying hair and a terrible combover. She
could hardly believe that she was looking at the famed captain of the Golden Company, Harry
Strickland. He met her eyes, and they widened almost imperceptively, but she knew the look of
an outnumbered man desperately seeking a deal. What she wasn’t prepared for was the older
red haired man next to him, graying at the temples and beard, an air of better days and ner
things about him. He openly stared at her, but she had no name to identify him. When she
and Jon approached to speak, Tyrion announced them rst, then one by one as the rest of the
lords of the North, her Dothraki kos, the Unsullied commanders, followed by Jaime and
Brienne.

Several things seemed to happen at once. The older red haired man dismounted his hourse,
Clegane and Jaime both dismounted and drew their swords, Ser Jorah rode his horse between
her and the man on the ground, and the red haired man dropped his sword to the ground in
front of him as he bent the knee to her. “Jon Connington of Grin’s Roost, Your Grace,” he said,
his voice deep and sad. “I loved your brother, Rhaegar. I failed him.”

Stunned, she stared at him. He had known Rhaegar. “Yet you ride with my enemy, my Lord,” she
said nally.

He stayed as he was, bowing his head. “Only to reach you sooner, My Queen. We were riding for
Volantis in hopes of meeting your ships there. We were two days too late; you had already
passed on your way to Dragonstone. Cersei Lannister has paid for us to ght. Gold is our pledge,
though we are no sellswords.”

She looked up from Connington to Strickland, who nodded and dismounted, taking a knee,
though it looked like it physically pained him to do so. “Harry Strickland, captain of the Golden
Company,” he introduced himself.

“You’re here to surrender?” she asked from her elevated position on her horse.

Strickland looked up at her. “We’ve come to you in the hopes that you would let us come
home, Your Grace. We are all exiles from Westeros, sought gold and honor with our brotherhood
in Essos, waiting for the time when we could come home. If you invite us to stay, we will drop
our swords against you and take them up against your enemies.”

Ser Jorah looked appraisingly at Strickland. “The Golden Company prides itself on not ever going
back on a contract, Captain,” he said grimly, looking to Jon and Dany.
“The Iron Bank funds Cersei,” Connington agreed. “But there’s no honor in ghting against the
rightful rulers of Westeros, not for all the gold a Lannister can muster.” He stood and sheathed
his sword, looking around at her war council as more assembled at the front line. “As I see it,

there’s a mad woman sitting in your Red Keep, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. I
also see that even both her brothers stand here with you, against her. I can’t break faith
where there was no faith from the start.”

Strickland rose when Dany gestured for him to do so. “And you, Captain?” she asked.

He sighed. “I will miss my elephants in Volantis dearly,” he said regretfully. “But it hardly
compares to missing home, the land of my great grandfather. I too, wish to stay.”

“Your men?” Jon asked, nodding toward the assembled Golden Company.

“There were some disagreement when we came ashore,” Connington admitted, looking at
Jon in a way that made Dany feel uncomfortable. The gaze was intense and so focused that
she wondered if Connington knew something she didn’t. “It has been resolved amongst us
and we’re now unanimous. We came for gold, but we’ll ght for you if we can stay in our
homeland.”

“I grant your request,” Daenerys said simply. She looked toward the sky, seeing Drogon and
Rhaegal circling in a downward spiral to land further aeld. “What of them?” she asked, nodding
toward the Lannister army that anked the Golden Company.

“Say the word and each and every one of them is a prisoner of war,” Strickland answered. “We
will not kill them unless Your Grace commands it.”

“I don’t want them dead,” she answered. “The fewer lives lost, the better. So be it.”

Strickland pulled a horn from under his cloak and blew four times on it, the sound ringing loud
and clear in the drizzling rain. A great roar erupted from the Golden Company men and
Daenerys watched as the Lannister army was surrounded by the cavalry and their weapons
seized. Some
tried to ee, only to be thrown to the ground and tied together by archers.

Jon nudged her knee with his, nodding at her solemnly. Ser Jorah backed his horse up from
between Dany and Connington so she could see him. “If I may, My Queen, you have the look
of your mother. She was a rare beauty with something even more precious within; a kind and
loving heart.”

“My father raped my mother,” she answered him. “While the world stood aside and let him. He
burned people alive and yet no one stopped him until,” she gestured toward Jaime. “He was
killed by one of his own guards. Was Jaime Lannister the only one in that room with a
conscience?”

He lowered his face from her gaze, bowing low. “It’s good that you know the truth, My
Queen,” he answered sadly. “However much I regret that truth.”

“You claim you were Rhaegar’s friend. Where were you when he was killed? Where were you
when his wife and children were murdered?” she asked, barely able to contain the hurt and
grief she could feel thrumming in her blood.

Jon laid a hand on her arm. “Maybe these are questions best asked in a private audience, Your
Grace,” he said quietly. He squeezed her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

She inhaled a deep breath of damp, cold air. “We welcome you home, my lords,” she said, and
turned her horse to ride back to Harrenhal.

“I was with Ser Willem Darry, Your Grace,” he called out to her, and she pulled up her horse,
though she didn’t turn around. “I smuggled you and Viserys on the ship while the rest in
Dragonstone burned. Only a day old and the most beautiful child I’d ever seen. I hid you in
my coat, your brother in a sack on my back.”

She closed her eyes against the burning tears and she nudged her horse to continue its path
toward Harrenhal. She hadn’t expected Connington’s words to cause such a pain in her heart, so
she kicked her horse into a slow loping gallop, feeling the rain sting her face. She saw the
approaching Dothraki on their horses, and they swept around her like a river around a stone,
circling and washing her away with them as they rode back to their lines in safety.

 Jon Connington was indeed helping to smuggle a baby with Varys during Robert’s
Rebellion, but it wasn’t Daenerys. In ADWD he claims the boy is his son, but Tyrion
deduces that it is young Aegon, Rhaegar’s son, smuggled from King’s Landing with
Connington to be raised as Young Gri. I have my own doubts about the legitimacy of
Tyrion’s deduction, but that’s neither here nor there in this story. I needed to have
Connington in this story since Ser Barristan Selmy is dead (sob) and I needed someone
who knew Rhaegar to help Dany and Jon both come to terms with their history.

Tangent Chapter 17

Daenerys turned and looked back at Harrenhal as they began their ride South, the melted
towers beyond the lake looking as sad and melancholy as they’d done when she’d arrived. She
shivered; the damp chill from their stay yet to fully leave her body, though by the end of the rst
week, she had moved the bedding to the oor in front of the replace in her attempts to stay
warm.

She brought her gaze to take in the cartloads and lines of prisoners behind her, the Unsullied
marching in their uniformed lines behind them, then her eyes came to rest on Jon in front of
them. He was deep in conversation with Connington, just as they had been for nearly three
weeks since the surrender, Jon oen coming to bed long aer she’d already gone to sleep.
“You ought to speak with him, Daenerys,” he had urged her yet again just that morning as
their room was being packed. She’d been getting dressed, carefully buckling her brace on
her leg before standing up and pulling on her gloves.

“I don’t want to,” she answered shortly, yanking at the leather in irritation.

“He’s the only man le alive who knew you as a baby,” Jon cajoled her gently, tugging on his
boots.

She turned her back to him, trying to make her point. “He held me for a day, my rst day, and
then he was no longer in my life. That hardly qualies as knowing me in any sense at all. Please
stop trying to appeal to my sympathies,” she answered smoothly.

She heard Jon heave a heavy sigh behind her. “His grief for Rhaegar took him to Essos.

He couldn’t bear to be in a land without a Targaryen in it. The Golden Company”

“A Blackfyre, a legitimized bastard Targaryen, founded the Golden Company,” she pointed out,
interrupting him. “I know that already.”

“They were coming for you, hoping to meet you in Volantis,” Jon reminded her gently.

“Too little, too late. I trust none of them,” she answered dismissively. “Where were they when
Drogo died and I nearly did, crossing the Red Waste? Fighting my way from Astapor to Yunkai to
Meereen? They had had plenty of time to reach me then, did they not? I mean to keep my
promise that they can stay here in Westeros, providing they don’t prove false, but that’s as far as
my good will extends.”

Jon had stood in front of her then, taking her by the shoulders, ducking his head to look her
in the eyes. “Just..will you please speak with him?”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head as she gazed back at him steadily. “I won’t. I’ve said
what
I needed to, and I will speak with him no further. There is absolutely no point in it. He can’t
change the past, and I have no pleasure in recounting it. Please don’t ask me again.”

He’d let go of her, but kissed her soundly on the forehead. “All right,” he’d sighed, then
followed her quietly out to the courtyard, their horses already waiting in the mud and rain.

Now, she looked back when she heard Jon laugh as they talked, seeing him shake his head and
smile. Jaime Lannister rode up on Connington’s other side, singing a snippet of some song that
caused Connington to laugh and continue the verse as Jaime rode by. She nudged her horse
forward, riding up next to Tyrion and Ser Jorah.

“They’re growing close, aren’t they?” Ser Jorah asked, looking from Jon back to Dany.

She shrugged a little. “It’s good,” she answered, hoping she sounded convincing. “Jon
deserves to know more about his father.”

“And you about your brother?” Ser Jorah asked pointedly.

“Everything I needed to know about Rhaegar I learned from Ser Barristan,” she answered shortly.
“He hated ghting, hated the thought of ruling, and would rather sing or read than do his duty.
He abandoned his wife for a new one, leaving Elia walled in the Red Keep with a murderous
madman who hated her and her children. We’re moving on now to important matters.” She
turned to look at Tyrion. “What of our prisoners? Have we heard any word from Cersei? Will she
pay their ransom?”

“We’ve heard no word, Your Grace,” Tyrion answered her.

“Would she meet with us, you think?” she asked speculatively. “It’s only just her life now.
We have everything else.”
“I don’t know how much wildre she may have le,” Tyrion cautioned her. “If she has nothing
le to ght for, she may let the whole thing go up in ames rather than let you have it.”

“I believe that,” she agreed. “And there are too many lives between Cersei and us. Too many
innocents. What can we give her as a great enough incentive to not burn down the city? I
don’t care about the Red Keep itself; if it burns, it burns. I do not, however, want a single
life harmed that can be spared.”

Tyrion looked back at Jaime, who had ridden up to Brienne and they were deep in conversation.
“I’m not sure I’m the best one to answer that question,” he said slowly.

“Speak to him,” Daenerys said rmly. “We need an answer before we’re delayed.”

Tyrion pulled up his horse and fell in step with his brother, leaving her alone with Ser Jorah. She
looked at him for a long moment, then rode with him in comfortable silence. “We’ve been doing
this for a fair few years, you and I,” she said quietly.

He nodded, looking at her and smiling a little. “Only now....you’re married to someone who
loves you the way you’ve deserved to be loved from the beginning,” he answered. “I’m happy for
you, Your Grace. It’s good to see you smile instead of tremble in fear.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m glad you’re here with me. How does it feel to be home?”

“Strange, if I am honest,” he began. “Though it satises me to see my niece grown into such a
formidable Lady at such an early age.”

“Would you want to return to Bear Island when this is nished, Ser Jorah?” she asked.

“Not if Your Grace still has need of me in any capacity,” he answered rmly. “I never hoped to
see my ancestral home again, and I rest easy knowing it’s in the hands of Lady Lyanna. There is
nothing for me there beyond memories, and those I carry with me quite easily.”

“Then I would like you to stay on in King’s Landing with us,” she began. She looked back to
Jon, who was riding up through the other lords, looking directly at her, his destination
unmistakable.

Ser Jorah pulled up his horse to let Jon take his place at her side, the correlation in his action not
escaping her notice. She smiled at Jon briey as he joined her before looking ahead, her Dothraki
kos and scouts ahead of them to protect her.

“You’re angry with me,” Jon guessed, reaching his hand out toward her.

“I’m not,” she assured him, reaching back and holding his hand briey before letting it go. “I’m
preoccupied is all.”

“I can understand that,” he answered. They rode in silence for a little while, their lack of words
not uncomfortable. “What happened to you and Viserys aer you le Dragonstone, Daenerys?”
he asked her suddenly, his voice so gentle and loving she had to blink away tears.

“That’s ..... a subject never to be broached again,” she answered shortly, tamping down rmly on
the memories that threatened to ood her mind, brought close to the surface by both Jon’s
questions and Ser Jorah’s presence and comparison to her marriages. “There’s too much to do
and I can’t aord to lose any time or energy dragging all that up. It serves no purpose for me
except nightmares and misery. I’m very happy for you, for nding someone who can give you the
answers you need so much, but please, Jon. I don’t want to relive all that, not even once more.
It’s in the past and I’ve nished with it.” If I look back, I am lost.

“Maybe you should confront it, see if it makes you feel any better?” he asked carefully.

She barked out a short laugh lled with irony, unable to withstand her own emotions that were
getting the better of her. “Says the man who avoided everyone for nearly a month aer his
brother told him who he really is.” She didn’t give him time to answer her, instead kicking her
horse and startling it into a gallop toward a group of her kos, who circled around her with yips
and yells before they settled down to ride together.

For fuck’s sake, Jon thought as he watched her ride away, shaking his head in exasperation
before he paused and grinned. I really ought to know better by now than to argue with her
when she’s pregnant. It was still too early to know for certain, but she’d started becoming
restless and quiet the past week, xated on the battle plans Tyrion brought to her daily. She was
short with her commanders, barely had time for anything more than to plan, eat, and sleep. Jon
had started spending more and more time with Connington to satisfy his questions about
Rhaegar, to know more about his past from someone who had witnessed most of it rsthand and
to give Dany room to do as she felt she needed.

Jon felt more connected to his parents, understood them better, and had managed to untangle
the mess in his mind, the rumors and the truth, the lies and the facts. He had been born a child
conceived in love, whilst Dany had been born of rape and violence. That had hurt him deeply,
knowing that about his Targaryen grandparents. His grandmother Rhaella had loved every child
that passed through her hands, every subject that came to her with a request. She’d found love
wherever she could, nding none in her own marriage, immersing herself in duty and doing the
best she could. Connington had shaken his head at him with a sad smile when they spoke of
his grandmother. “She would have doted on you, Jon. She would have taken you and fed you at
her own breast alongside Daenerys if she’d known of you, if she had survived.”

He couldn’t understand how Daenerys could feel the way she did about it all, aloof and
uninterested, not until he allowed himself to really consider her position. She hadn’t gotten
angry with him when he brought it up, not so much angry as impatient and dismissive as she
erected her walls around herself. The only thing he could gure was that she was holding a
grudge against Connington for events in her life in Essos, the little of it that Jon knew was
enough for him to have the beginnings of understanding where she was coming from in that
regard. What happened to you out there in the world, my Love? He wondered if she would
ever tell him.

As the camp rose around him that night, he searched for Daenerys. He rode through the
pavilions, nding his own and hers easily enough, though no sign of her. He sighed, realizing if he
wanted her, he was going to have to make the eort and nd her in the Dothraki camp. He
looked down the rows of tents, numbering in the thousands. He’d be looking for her until dawn
unless he got lucky, so he was going to have to rely on luck. Giving up was unthinkable.
His luck had held out; he’d only ridden past about two hundred of the tents before he saw her
horse tethered outside her tent, unsaddled and eating out of a bucket. Jon dismounted and

passed o his horse to the squire that had followed him, untying Dany’s horse so she could
wander o aer she’d nished her grain. He tapped lightly on the tent ap. “Daenerys,” he said
quietly. “You in there?”

“I am,” she called back. “It’s open for you.”

He ducked inside. It was already warm and well lit, the bedding laid out on the carpeted
ground and ready for them. His gaze found her seated on the carpet and leaning back on
the table, toying her ngers through the hot coals of the brazier. He watched, fascinated. “That
doesn’t hurt?” he asked as he removed his brigandine and cloak, kicking o his boots to match
her stockinged feet. He tossed his gloves and leather jerkin on top of his cloak, rolling his
shoulders to enjoy the feeling of not being weighed down.

She shook her head. “It never has,” she said quietly. She picked one coal up and held it in her
palm, watching the colors waver from red to yellow to orange before she set it back down
carefully in the middle of the ames. She looked up at him, and he could see the sadness in her
eyes. “Please, Jon. Promise me you’ll let it go on my behalf. I don’t mind you talking and
learning all about it from Connington, I really don’t, but please, keep me out of it.”

Jon let out a heavy sigh of acceptance. “All right,” he said gently. “I promise. Consider the
matter dropped where you’re concerned. I’m sorry you’ve been hurting so.”

“The less I think about it, the happier I am,” she said, tucking her good knee up to her chest
and resting her chin on it, her braced leg stretched out in front of her. She glanced down at
her knee. “Hopefully it won’t be too much longer and I won’t be able to sit like this.”

He nodded, smiling at little at the vision that passed through his mind; Daenerys, with a
rounded belly and face ushed with health, sleeping in their bed at Winterfell. “I’m hoping so
too,” he answered her, nally moving to sit next to her on the carpet. “Any new plans?” he
asked, reaching out and rubbing her tired muscles between her shoulder blades with his
thumb and
ngers, using his palm to soothe the pain. He could feel how knotted and sore they were. She’d
been worrying about too many things lately.

She shook her head, relaxing into his touch. “We’ve got it covered, I think. The Dothraki at the
gates, blocking all but one as Jaime and Tyrion check every person who passes through. The
Unsullied on the beaches, blocking the passages beneath the Red Keep, working their way up
through the dungeons to seize all her Queensguard. You and I will go in on the dragons and
bring

her out to face her trial and justice. It’s simple, and we have a large enough army to
overwhelm any resistance. We couldn’t have hoped for better, really.”

He watched as her hand dipped back into the coals, twirling her ngertips around them like
anyone else would do with a pool of water. “I suppose not,” he answered, seeing her nod
in agreement with their unspoken losses.

“In every battle, there are losses,” she whispered, closing her eyes and sighing heavily
as her head fell forward and her hands dried to the carpet below. “That feels
wonderful.”

“Come over here and I’ll be able to use both hands,” he suggested. “You’re awfully tense.”

She did as he asked, bringing herself to sit between his knees, moaning out as he dug his
thumbs into her back. “Don’t you ever get like this?” she asked.

“Not since they brought me back from the dead,” he answered her honestly. “My sword
arm once in a while, but not like you are right now.”

She nodded, bending her head forward as he rubbed his palms over her in an attempt to
comfort her. “I regret having Missandei stay in Winterfell,” she whispered. “I miss her.”

Jon nodded, then leaned forward as he wrapped his arms around her, surrounding her with
his body as he held her. She missed her friend. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing her on the
shoulder. He could feel the beginnings of arousal stirring within his body from her sounds of
pleasure as he’d rubbed her back, from the close proximity of her body tucked into his.
“Would
riding a dragon help you feel better?”

“Drogon and Rhaegal are probably already....oh Jon,” she laughed, turning around and giving
him a light kiss on the cheek. “Would it hurt you terribly if I just wanted to eat and then go to
sleep?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t even begin to feel disappointed; she was tired and it wouldn’t be
enjoyable for her. “Wouldn’t hurt me at all, Love,” he answered. “You feel all right?”

She leaned against him, cuddled up in his arms as she shied her weight from her rear to one
hip on the carpeted ground. She tucked one arm around his waist, holding onto him. “I’m
tired,” she admitted. “All the way into my bones, I’m tired. I want to just crawl in bed and sleep
for days.”

“You think we were successful?” he asked gently, resting his chin on her head.

“Well, we’ll know for certain if I don’t start bleeding, I suppose,” she answered, turning slightly
so her nose was pressed to Jon’s chest. She inhaled and let out a long, heavy sigh as she
rested her head back against him again. “You smell nice.”

He laughed. “Like sweat and horses?” he asked.

“No,” she hued out in a laugh. “Like you. I smell soap from our bath yesterday, your clothes . . .
 just your smell.”

Yeah, we did it, she’s pregnant. She’s going from cranky to clinging and needy, now she’s sning
me. He smiled and pressed his nose to her hair before he kissed her again. “I’ll go out and get
something for us to eat. You stay here and curl up on the bed. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he
promised. “I’ll wake you if you fall asleep.”
Daenerys stood on the ground next to Drogon, staring over at Sow’s Horn on an opposite slope.
“Targaryen loyalists, who answer to Targaryen loyalists,” Tyrion pointed out helpfully from his
horse. “Would you like to speak to Lord Hogg before we pass by?”

She wordlessly handed him a folded parchment sealed with the Targaryen sigil. “Invitation to
court aer I take King’s Landing,” she said tiredly. “We’ll sort it out later.” She rubbed her eyes
with one hand as Tyrion reached out and took the paper from her.

Tyrion looked at her, concerned. “Are you all right, Your Grace?” he asked. She could tell from
his tone he was genuinely worried, not shing for information.

“I am,” she answered. “I promise.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked.

“I need a real bed and a hot bath,” she answered, laughing a little before she turned
serious. “And about two days worth of sleep, I think.”

“It’s only a day more.” His attempt to reassure her fell atter than he’d hoped. “Perhaps if
you and His Grace would sleep somewhere other than in the middle of the Dothraki camp
.................................................................................................................................................................................... ” he
began, but she began to laugh again and shook her head.

“Anywhere else is too quiet and not as well protected,” she answered, looking back over the
gentle slope to Sow’s Horn. “Any assassins attempting to locate us in there would not survive
to set eyes on us, and you must admit, the closer to King’s Landing we get, the more likely
Cersei will send someone who desires gold enough they will make some sort of attempt on
my life or Jon’s.”

Tyrion nodded, then turned his horse to ride back toward the resting army. She followed him
and mounted her own horse, riding back to join Jon and the rest of the party, nodding only once
toward Connington as he removed himself from Jon’s side so she could take her place next to
her husband.

“Not much further now,” she said. “Tomorrow will nd us where we need to be.”

She looked to Grey Worm, who stepped forward. “We will not stop tonight, my Queen,” he
said. “We will be in position by morning.”

“If you don’t stop tonight, then neither do I,” she answered.

“She may have already le the capital,” Jaime pointed out.

“Maybe,” Daenerys answered. “Where would she go? She couldn’t go to Casterly Rock, could
she? If she’s going to ee, she ought to already be on a ship to the Free Cities.”

“Euron’s eet is in Blackwater Bay, waiting for us to arrive,” Tyrion said, waving a raven’s scroll
at her. “Which tells me that she’s still there, waiting to see the last part of her army kill o as
many of us as they can before she destroys whatever is le of the city.”

Daenerys looked at Jon. “We need to do something about all those ships,” she said mildly. “I’m
certain there are a few cold sailors waiting for a bonre or two.”

“We nd Theon and Yara and their men rst,” he cautioned her.

“Euron already turned Yara over to Cersei,” Dany answered. “If Theon and Yara and her men are
anywhere nearby, they’re still in the Red Keep. If not, they’ve already escaped the city or are
dead. We can’t aord to wait, Jon.” She dismounted her horse and looped the reins over the
pommel of her saddle and slapped the mare on the rump, sending her o to join the rest of the
Dothraki horses. “Let’s go.”

“They’re waiting for us,” Jon protested. “What if they have another one of those damned
crossbows on board?”

She turned to look at him. “They’d be fools to not have one, and we’d be fools to think they
don’t,” she answered. “Should we wait and let them attack our men on the shore? Should we
allow Euron to kill innocent people when he lays siege to the city aer we take it from Cersei? If
you have another suggestion, Jon, I’m more than happy to hear it.” She looked around to the

other men. “Anyone?” No one could meet her eyes, and she knew it was because she was
right.

“It feels more like bait,” he protested, dismounting from his horse, too. “ They’re trying to
lure you and Drogon out there to burn ships.”

“I know that,” Daenerys answered him, trying to be patient as they walked o to the side of their
council. “The whole thing smells bad, I know......but what else am I supposed to do?”

Jon sighed and looked toward the South. “We could stay away from that side and just take
the city from the West,” he suggested. “We go in and get Cersei rst, then deal with Euron.”

“Jaime says that Cersei promised to marry Euron in return for his ships and fealty,” she said
slowly. “If we take Cersei alive, we may have a chance to force his hand, but this will be all for
nothing if she escapes out the passageways to the harbor.” She looked toward the riders
passing by them, locking eyes with Arya and giving her a nod.

Arya rode up with a grin on her face. “Yes?” she asked.

“Yes,” Dany answered.

“Whatever it is, I’m saying no,” Jon said rmly, looking from Dany to Arya. “I don’t even care
what it is, the answer is no.”
 The Queen in the North has already given me my orders, Arya answered smoothly. My Queen
has spoken, Your Grace.” She bowed to Jon, smiling.

Jon made an angry, frustrated sound as Drogon and Rhaegal touched down on the grass
not far from them, sending horses eeing and riders yelling at the dragons. “Arya, no,” he
yelled, watching Arya mount Drogon behind Daenerys, watched as they le the ground
before he climbed up on Rhaegal. “Follow them, my lad,” he said quietly. “And pray that
they’re not going

to the harbor.”

Tangent Chapter 18

Rhaegal kept pace with Drogon easily enough, though it irked Jon to see Arya look back and
wave at him, a tiny speck on Drogon’s back behind Daenerys. Where are you two going?
Irritated that Daenerys had kept him out of whatever plans she’d made with Arya, he looked
ahead in dread as they approached King’s Landing. Drogon veered West, away from the harbor
and passing over what had to be the King’s Road; Jon’s memory of the map they’d last
examined that morning would concur.

His gut sank as they ew directly over the walls of King’s Landing. He passed over the dragon pit,
Rhaegal climbing steeply to follow Drogon directly up to the at and cobbled courtyard of the
Red Keep, near where the Tower of the Hand used to be. Drogon moved to give Rhaegal room to
land, and Jon was o him and chasing his sister nearly before Rhaegal could touch the ground.
He turned to look back at Daenerys, who lingered for a long moment before dismounting.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded.

“Satisfying your sister’s wishes,” she answered, coming to stand next to him. “She is capable of
handling herself, Jon, but I suggest an extra sword to guard her back. Go,” she urged. “I’ll be
along in a moment.” She pulled out a slim dagger and smiled at him. “The maker of Needle
was good enough to make me my own.”

Jon shook his head and cursed under his breath, torn. Arya could handle herself in a ght, but
she was alone and ghting an unknown number. Daenerys was with the dragons, well protected,
but pregnant and no talent with a blade. “Go,” she urged again, and his feet began to
move toward the door.

He unsheathed Longclaw, tossing the scabbard at Dany’s feet. He pointed his nger at her,
furious. “You stay here with Drogon,” he said. “If they shoot at you, leave. Of all the fucking fool
things to have done.....” He could hear the sounds of men dying, no time le to yell at his
wife,
so he ducked through the open door and ran down the short steps. He yanked his cloak o,
leaving it in the corridor, and followed the sounds of his sister’s laughter and the clashing
of steel. She’s enjoying this.

Following the sounds, he heard running feet coming from the opposite direction of the
hallway that had crossed into a ‘T’. He pressed himself up against the red stone, holding his
breath,
 jumping out in front of the guards when they were nearly upon him, wasting no time in pressing
them back the way they came, Longclaw easily cutting through the leather, the castle forged
armor no match for Valyrian steel. Once dealt with, he easily shut the oak door they’d come
from and dragged the bodies to act as a blockade against it before starting out for Arya again,
ignoring the blood on his blade, rounding the corner and seeing her as she fought o the guards.
He counted four, but their number quickly dwindled to none as he watched his little sister ght.

“You’ve le me nothin’ to do,” he said, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.
“You’re the one who wanted to tag along,” she laughed, catching her breath. “Thanks though,
Jon. Looks like you found at least one to deal with.” She looked down at Longclaw. “Let’s feed
that sword properly, shall we?”

He nodded, wiping the blood o Longclaw onto his pants. “So, what are your orders, Arya
Stark?” he asked, running the steel against the cloth of his pants.

She pulled out the catspaw blade and twirled it on a nger before sheathing it at her hip. “Cersei
is on my list. I’m going to remove her from it, and I’m fairly certain I’m going to do it with her
own blade.”

“What about a fair trial and justice?” Jon demanded.

“This is Northern justice, Jon,” she answered, brushing past him. “Back this way.”

He followed her out, looking around the passageways, glancing out the open air windows as he
hurried to keep up with her. “And to think, you’ll be calling this home,” she called back to him.

He heard running feet behind him, and turned to ght but instantly lowering his sword at seeing
Daenerys, wide eyed and panting. “Get back out there,” he growled at her. “It’s not safe in
here.”

“Not safe out there, either,” she answered, looking down at the dead men on the oor and
shuddering slightly. “I’ve sent them o until we need them.”

“Stay behind me, then,” he ordered, halfway impressed that she did exactly as he told her as
they ran to catch up to Arya.

She stood in the open doorway, leaning against the frame, Needle lowered. When Jon
reached her side, she turned back to face him. “She’s not here.”
“We need to get out of here, then,” Jon hissed.

Arya shook her head. “She may have gone from the towers to Maegor’s Holdfast. It’s much

better protected than here.”

She turned to move past Jon, but he grabbed her by the arm. “Better protected means more
guards,” he told her. “We’ve got Daenerys here, she can’t ght and I can’t have your back if I
need to protect her, too. I can’t do both.”

“Fine,” she answered, shrugging him o. “You make too much noise, anyway. Stay here, kill
some time, make some babies or something, and I’ll see you aer.” She winked at him before
sprinting o.

“Fuck!” he yelled in frustration, kicking the door. He looked over at Daenerys, who had
moved to the window to see the world below, her arms crossed defensively. He could tell
she was preparing to defend herself from him should he turn his anger toward her. He
took a deep breath, hoping to get a grip on his nely stretched sanity before he rounded on
her. “I had not intended to ght o guards in close quarters today,” he said nally. “What can you
see out there?”

“It appears Drogon and Rhaegal are taking care of the eet without us,” she murmured, glancing
back at him before watching from the window again. “And the Unsullied are just there.” She
pointed toward the North from the harbor. “Another hour or so and they’ll be on the
beaches.
Looks like they ran the rest of the way to keep up with us.”

“The Dothraki?” he asked.

“I can’t see from here, but I’d wager they’re on the other side of the Keep,” she whispered,
moving to another open window on the opposite side. “There.” She pointed out the window
toward the swily moving dark horde below, their directions shiing like a ock of birds in ight.
“No one is getting out of here that we don’t want,” he said quietly. “Let’s go aer Arya. I’m
worried for her.”

She nodded, looking around the room. “I am, too, but I’ve also seen her ght, Jon.” She glanced
back toward the window for a moment, watching their dragons.

“Let’s go,” he said forcefully, grabbing her arm and escorting her out. “Stay behind me.
We’re going down into the belly of this thing,” he nished. He hated the smell of it, hated
the look
of it, the red stone doing nothing but remind him of the blood it had cost to build it, the blood
of his sister Rhaenys and brother Aegon, both of whom had been brutally murdered within those
very walls, their grandfather burning men alive and raping his grandmother. He hated the
thought he’d have to live there with all that death.

“You hate it, don’t you?” she asked in a low voice, walking quickly and lightly to keep up with
him.

“Yeah, I do,” he admitted quietly, pulling her back around the corner and checking it before
continuing down the darkened corridor.

“This way,” she whispered, when he pulled up short at an apparent dead end. She walked
back a few paces and pulled open a door, revealing a dark staircase leading down, the
sconces empty and cold.

“How did you know?” he demanded in a whisper, surprised.

“A very lucky guess,” she answered with a smile, then ducked back behind him.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, listening for a long moment and hearing nothing. “Get
that blade out,” he told her in a whisper. “I want you armed. Reach back and grab that knife o
my back, too.”
Aer she fumbled around under his cloak and released his knife from its sheath, the blade as
long as her forearm, she held it in her right and the little stiletto blade Mikken had made for her
in her le. He turned to look at her and grinned. “What?” she whispered. “I’m better with my

right than le, so the heavier blade goes there, right?”

He nodded, then licked his lips before refocusing on the task at hand. Arya had been teaching
Dany how to use a knife in a ght, wanting her better armed if it came down to a ght in close
quarters. He’d oen seen them practicing in the courtyard at Winterfell, Dany serious and quick
despite her brace, Arya laughing as she seemed to dance like a bird in the sky around Dany
as they sparred. When he could get past the anxiety of considering Daenerys being in an
actual
ght, he’d found it very arousing to watch. He fully intended to teach her more if they managed
to live through the day.

He led Dany down the ight of stairs, circling round and round, before he could see relight
ickering from the bottom. He pressed her back against the wall with his arm over her chest. She
sucked in her breath and reached up, moving his arm. He cringed and mouthed an apology to

her, reaching down and caressing her belly gently. He’d forgotten that her breasts were so
tender.

Far away, they could hear steel clashing, and he looked at her, tamping down his conict as best
he could. “Stay here, stay quiet,” he whispered. “I’ll shut the door. Lock it and stay here in
the dark. You’ll have the advantage of surprise if you stay quiet. Protect yourself and our
baby.” He kissed her quickly, shut the door behind him, then began to run toward the ght.

He found Arya in the middle of the guards, ghting with her teeth bared and struggling to keep
up. Jon waded through the middle, cutting down men as he reached his sister, roaring out in
rage and exertion as he closed the gap between them. She spared him a grateful glance, then
dove back into the ght, the dwindled numbers making it much easier to ght back. There was no
time for Jon to admire his sister’s ferocity the way he wanted, keeping his focus on the men at
the end of his sword. He surveyed the room, the only other door letting in light from outside.

Jon battled his way to it, slamming it shut and bolting it from the inside. Arya killed the last
one in the room, and they both bent over to catch their breath. “Bought us a little time,” he
panted out.
Daenerys burst through the other door. “More are coming,” she said, her voice breathy and
panicked.

“Call Drogon,” he commanded her. He pointed to the door he’d just bolted. “Daylight, that
way. Arya!”

He unbolted the door and Arya slipped through before he could walk out, entering a small
courtyard, a map of the entire Seven Kingdoms painted on the stones. Daenerys closed her eyes,
concentrating for just a moment before Drogon was bellowing out above them, charged from
his
ght on the harbor. “Drogon!” she cried out, running to the middle of the courtyard.

“No good,” Jon yelled back. “He can’t get down here.”

Arya looked around. “This way,” she yelled, running down a few steps and through another
hallway, leading out to a garden that was browned and dead. Drogon swooped down and
landed
 just long enough for Daenerys to climb up and mount him. When she reached for Jon’s hand, Jon
gave Drogon a push and sent them o, leaving him and Arya on the ground.

“She’s going to be pissed at you,” Arya said, looking around for a moment, grinning at him.
“This way.”

Jon shrugged, unconcerned. “She is already, and I don’t care. I can’t haul a potentially pregnant
Queen through a swordght any more than I can ride on your shoulders,” he panted out as they
ran down another ight of steps. “You said to make babies up in that room, but I think we’ve
already done that job. Glad I didn’t need to stay there while you needed me down here.”

“Well, congratulations, you ass,” Arya shot back. “I wish I would have known that! The plan
would have been completely dierent.”
“She didn’t want to tell anyone yet,” he answered, hopping over a low wall and stepping
back so
Arya could follow him. He grinned at her as he heard the running feet of more guards. They
ducked below the wall to hide. “She thinks it’ll spoil our luck.”

“Let’s hope you just didn’t,” she whispered, smiling at him. “I’m going to be an aunt. Don’t
worry, I won’t tell.”

He nodded, then cocked his head toward the lower hallway. “You rst?” he guessed. “You know
where we’re going. I don’t.”

Arya nodded. “This place is actually smaller than Winterfell,” she whispered. “It’s only
through that entryway and around the corner. Hopefully she’s in there. We can end this and
go home for a bit.”

Home. Winterfell. That was enough motivation for Jon. He glanced over the low wall, but the
guards were gone, so he sprinted where Arya had indicated with her right on his heels. He
slammed her back against the wall, taking a glance around the corner only to nd it abandoned.
He gestured for her to go rst, and she grinned at him before she disappeared around the
corner, silent as a cat. He waited until he saw her hand come around the corner of the red
stone, gesturing to him that it was safe.

“This way,” she said, leading him through a reinforced door and into Maegor’s Holdfast, the
thick walls impressing him nearly as much as repelling him. They reeked of death to him. She
pointed up a staircase. “That way to the king’s chambers,” she said, then pointed the opposite
way. “That way to the Iron Throne. Which way are you going? I’ll take the other.”

“I’ll go that way,” he whispered, pointing toward the Iron Throne. “I want to see this pile
of shit that Daenerys wants to sit her ass on so badly.”

Arya snorted in attempt to quell her laugh. “Fine. We meet back where Drogon picked her up.”

He nodded, then turned to go. “Yell if you need me,” he said. “I’m serious, Arya.”
“I will, I swear it,” she promised, then ran up the stone steps soundlessly and out of sight.

He stalked down the way she’d pointed, and was in the Great Hall nearly before he realized it. He
scanned the room from his position o to the le of the Throne, not a single Queensguard in
sight. He stared at the monstrosity in front of him, blackened steel and hideously gruesome in
shape and size, twisted not only from dragonre, but Jon felt the corruption and madness of the

rulers in years past lent their malevolence to it as well. He curled his lip up in distaste. Daenerys
could sit on it all she wanted, his ass would never touch that seat if he could help it. He was
suddenly suspicious of his surroundings as he broke his gaze away from the Throne, the pillars
that held the the ceiling were large and there appeared to be a balcony of sorts above him,
likely to hold the court. He looked up, but it was not possible to see up there without giving his
position away. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up; someone was watching him. He
nearly
 jumped out of his skin when Arya laid a hand on his forearm. “The fuck?” he mouthed at her.

She shook her head, jerking her head back the way she’d been. She pointed up the stairs and
gestured for him to follow, so he did, trying to mimic her soundless footsteps. Arya stopped him

before they reached the top, and she held out both hands, then put up four additional ngers.
Fourteen guards. He nodded, relieved that she hadn’t attempted to take all of them on herself.
Cersei is there. “I’m with you,” he said quietly.

“You’re too late,” a voice called out to them. “The Queen is dead.”

Jon felt his gut drop down and his heart stop for a moment, thinking of Daenerys, before he
realized the guards had meant their Queen. “We’ll kill every single one of you fuckers in here if
you’re lying or try to ght,” he yelled back.

“No one to ght for,” another voice called back. “Our Queen is dead.”

Arya looked at him in disappointment before she stepped out from behind the wall. “Drop your
swords, then,” she said, her voice low and deadly. “I want to see for myself.”
Jon stepped up behind her and ourished Longclaw. “Drop your weapons, and I’ll let you live.”
Swords clattered to the oor, and he looked to Arya. “I’m here to protect your back. Go do what
you need to do.”

He watched her step into the room, then heard the sound of a heavy sword being unsheathed.
He looked to the guards, then stepped forward, kicking swords away from them as he advanced.
“GO, more of us are coming,” he yelled at them and watched them run down the steps to escape
the Red Keep, then stepped into the bedchamber as Ser Gregor Clegane swung his sword at

Arya, who neatly outmaneuvered him, simply trying to evade him until Jon could help her. Jon
stepped behind him, I’ll live it down. Jaime Lannister managed to live it down aer stabbing a
man in the back, and drove Longclaw through Clegane’s spine, throwing his whole weight
behind the thrust. Clegane’s knees buckled, but he did not fall, simply turning and dragging
Jon with him as he tried to dislodge the sword.

Arya hopped up on the large chest at the foot of the bed, driving Needle through Clegane’s
eye at her rst opportunity as he twisted, the blade getting caught in his helmet as he tried to
shake her o. She grabbed the catspaw from her hip and slit his throat when it was exposed,
spilling black, foul smelling blood. He stumbled and fell, shuddering, Jon still trying to pull
Longclaw free

as The Mountain gave one nal shudder and stopped moving. Jon gagged a little at the smell
before he vomited, the blood dead for so long that the body that held it ought to have been
long
rotten away in the ground or burnt away for years.

Arya moved to the side of the bed, standing on the mattress, looking down at Cersei. Jon nally
was able to yank Longclaw loose by stepping on The Mountain’s back and pulling with all his
strength. He then looked at Arya before glancing down at Cersei, her face grey and purple in
death. He looked over the bedding, at the blood there. “She miscarried,” he guessed quietly,
sighing. “She miscarried and then bled to death, I’ll wager.”

Arya looked from Cersei to Jon. “How do you know that?” she demanded.

“I don’t know for certain, but I’ve seen a miscarriage before, and that’s what it looks like to me,
though I am no maester to tell for certain,” he said, pointing with Longclaw at the blood. He
looked at the black blood that fouled his blade in disgust. “I’m not wiping that on my pants,” he
grumbled. Clegane’s foul, rotten body must have been the source of the smell of death Jon had
been sensing since their arrival in the Red Keep. He shuddered.
“What do we do now?” she asked, staring at the mess.

“We.......” he heaved a little, but managed to choke it back. “We call Rhaegal and get the fuck out
of here,” he said, turning back to the door and leaving the room.

“Jon,” Arya called as she jumped down from the bed, yanked Needle out of Clegane’s eye socket
and caught up with him. “That’s the royal bedchamber back there.”

“Yeah,” he answered. “I know that. I’m trying to put as much distance between us and that
smell as I can.”

“You’re going to be expected to sleep in there,” she pointed out.

“Fuck that,” he said, shaking his head and starting down the stairs, the guards long gone.
“They can try to clean that shit up all they want, but I’m not sleeping in there.”

“Your baby will be born in that room,” she continued, unperturbed by his determination. She
laughed a little at how fast he was taking the stairs.

“No, it won’t,” he answered so condently that she began to laugh.

They stepped out into the open courtyard. “You seem awfully sure about that, Jon.”

“I am. Daenerys and I already agreed that any baby of ours would be born in Winterfell,” he said.
“She promised me because that’s what she wants, too. She thinks of Winterfell as home, of you
and Sansa as much a part of her family as I am.”

“She’s my sister, I love her too,” Arya agreed. “Call your dragon. Let’s get out of here.”
“So, that the end of your list?” he asked.

“Yeah. I removed The Hound. I’ll let him live, I guess. Seven Hells, I’m mad. She died before I
could stare her in the face and watch her die. I’ve been dreaming of that since I saw her on that
platform, watching Father die,” she raged quietly, then cursed and spat on the ground as she
began to pace. Jon watched her in shock for a few moments, then turned his gaze toward the
sky, but no sign of Rhaegal.

He turned his gaze to the water, able to see both sides of the harbor from their vantage point
for a moment, smoke and res on the water, ships sinking. That’s going to be a bitch, clearing
out the harbor. He thought of Rhaegal, calling to him with his mind, concentrating on his
location as he did, grinning when he heard his distinct roar approach. “There you are, lad,” he
whispered. “Come on, get us out of here and back to Daenerys.”

Rhaegal ew over them and circled. “Wow,” Arya laughed. “He’s amazing.”

Jon nodded. “That he is, a thousand times over,” he agreed, smiling up at Rhaegal in
admiration. “I don’t have words for how I feel about him, about them both, really.”

Rhaegal passed overhead a few times, circling. “Down here!” Jon yelled to him. Rhaegal
called back, spotting them and landing on the far end of the dead garden for only a
moment, leaving the ground again nearly before Arya had climbed on. Jon had to grab her
by the back of her

pants and haul her up before she fell.

Once in the air, he understood why. A few ships had evaded the dragonre, and were attacking
the shoreline. Rhaegal dove for the Unsullied to protect them, turning toward the ships before
unleashing his deadly re. Arya yelled in delight as they began climbing in the air, and Jon asked
him silently to take them to Daenerys and Drogon.
Drogon bellowed from above them, turning abruptly as he called out to Rhaegal. Rhaegal le
the
harbor and ew back toward the Dothraki, to the Northern army beyond, before landing heavily
on the grass and dropping his entire ank. Jon tossed Longclaw o to one side before Rhaegal
unceremoniously tipped them o the other direction, sending them falling to the earth below
before he turned and ew o again, twisting in the air in a dizzying maneuver. Jon knew he

wouldn’t have been able to hold on for that kind of action and was grateful that Rhaegal had
seen to their safety even while in the middle of a ght.

The ground shook beneath their feet, a low rumble making the earth move in tremors as they
looked around, the horses screaming and panicking as a billow of green smoke and ames
engulfed the lower parts of the city. He saw the Dragon Gate crumble and fall before his
eyes, the Dragon Pit next to it only a cloud of green smoke. Jon began to run toward the
massive re, but Arya dove and grabbed him by the leg, forcing him to the ground. Jon
clawed at the grass, spitting mud and dragging himself forward, unable to do more than
keep moving forward. “Where’s Daenerys?” she yelled, trying to break him out of his
single minded mission.

He stopped and looked up, seeing Drogon and Rhaegal nish their task on the far side of the
harbor. Rhaegal came back for him, dropping to the ground. He dragged himself to his feet and
wiped Longclaw o in the grass before sliding it into the thick leather of his belt and cloak. “Get
to a horse and ride. Find the Northern lords and stay with them.” He spat out the last of the mud
before mounting Rhaegal. “Come on, let’s go.”

Rhaegal was unafraid of the unnatural ames, ying low enough that Jon could assess the
damage. Flea Bottom was gone, too. All those innocent people. Jon cursed aloud and guided
Rhaegal upward toward the Red Keep once more, searching for Drogon before he spotted
him far West of the city. Without a word, Rhaegal took Jon to Drogon and Daenerys, who was
laying face down on the ground, crying as she grabbed at handfuls of grass.

Panicked, Jon jumped o Rhaegal and ran to her, nding her sobbing uncontrollably. He
removed Longclaw from the bindings so he could get to her easily, kneeling down in front of her
and hauling her up into his arms. “You hurt?” he demanded, checking her body, but she was
shaking her head vehemently while she cried.

“All those people,” she sobbed out, coiling within herself as if she was unable to bear it a
moment longer. Jon gathered her up into his arms and held her as her cries turned to
screams, his heart breaking for her. She was beyond devastated, beyond heartbroken for
people she
didn’t even know. No matter who would insist that his wife was cold hearted, he would never
believe them, not aer seeing her like that.

Hordes of Dothraki and Unsullied were approaching on foot and horseback, rallying to their
Queen. Jon pointed toward the burning city, another rumble seeming to come up from
beneath them in warning. He grabbed Daenerys and hauled her to her feet, forcefully pushing
her up onto Drogon’s side, giving her no choice but to climb onto her giant protector. He
glanced

toward the walls, the Lion Gate in front of them, the King’s Road not far away. He glanced back
toward the harbor, seeing black smoke rising and mingling with the horrifying green as another
of the res erupted from within the city, nearer the center. He looked up at Daenerys, feeling her
screams of agony in his own heart. Thousands of people were dying.

With an enormous eort, Drogon heaved his great wings and rose from where he was standing,
the houses and tiny elds around him preventing him from a running start. Jon grabbed
Longclaw and secured the greatsword again, then made for Rhaegal. There was nothing to be
done until their army on the ground could get inside the city to bring aid to the fallen and
injured.

Jon looked toward the Unsullied and Dothraki, abandoning his plan to mount Rhaegal, instead
accepting the horse that Lako oered him, mounting the ne animal and riding toward the Lion
Gate. He watched as Drogon took Daenerys over the city before turning toward the riders. They
looked to him and fell behind him as he rode for the gate, hearing Arya yelling for him and
approaching him on a lathered horse that was giving her every ounce of speed it could muster.
“Jon!” she screamed, jumping o the heaving animal and immediately mounting the fresh
Dothraki one when it was brought for her. “Wildre!” she cried, breathless. “Aerys’ wildre . . .
Cersei.....”

“Is there more, Arya?” Jon asked urgently.

“I don’t know!” she cried out. “Until she burnt down the Sept, no one thought the wildre was
anything more than a rumor. We can’t know for certain.”

“People are dying in there, Arya!” he yelled back. “Am I supposed to wait out here?”
“You have to,” she yelled back. “You can’t go in there and get killed. Daenerys.......You can’t do
that to her, Jon!”

Jon nally pulled up his horse, realizing there was nothing anyone could do but wait. His very
bones ached to get in the city to help, but it was folly. Cersei played them well, even aer her
death. The people le alive would blame Daenerys for the destruction inicted upon them. He
cursed and turned his horse back toward the Dothraki and Arya. “Regroup,” he commanded,
and Lako translated the order with ease, the Dothraki turning and riding North toward the lords
and reserve forces.

Jon kicked his horse into a run to keep up with the rest of the horde, Arya riding next to him.
She pointed skyward and Jon looked up to see both Drogon and Rhaegal following them from
the air, their great wings spread wide as they did little more than glide to keep pace with them.
He looked to the horizon in front of him, seeing their armies coming toward them to meet in
front of the Gate of the Gods. A thick haze was falling upon them from the smoke and rubble.

He pulled up his horse between the Kingsroad and the Gate of the Gods to wait for the lords
to meet him on the open elds. He dismounted and held his horse as he waited. Lord Glover
was the rst to reach him. “We already sent aid,” he said. “We’ve sent the Lannister army in.”

Jon closed his eyes in horror. Of all the stupid fucking things to have done...He took a deep
breath. “You realize they’re already going to blame this on Daenerys?” he demanded. “And now
you’ve sent the Lannister men in there instead of our own for aid?”

Lord Glover realized his mistake, and turned his horse. “Send in the armies from Houses Cerwin,
Glover, Karstark and Mormont!” he bellowed out. “The people of King’s Landing need our aid!”
He turned back to Jon. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I sent in the men I thought we could risk
losing.”

“I know why you did it,” Jon answered grimly. “Had I been outside the walls the entire time, I
may have done the same.”
Drogon and Rhaegal roared out as they landed on the winterized crop elds, Dany walking
through the mud briskly to reach his side. She’d managed to recover from her shock and
grief, though her eyes were still red and sad. He reached out for her, taking her under his
arm as she heaved a sigh. “Forces have already been dispatched,” he told her. “We’ll save
everyone that can

be saved, Love.”

He pulled her into his chest to hide her face as she began to cry again. “All those
people,” she cried. “All of them, gone up in re and nothing I could do ”

“Cersei’s doing, not yours,” he answered, resting his chin on her head and letting her cry
as though her own life were ending.

Tangent Chapter 19

Daenerys watched from Drogon’s back, ying above as the Unsullied carried water from the
harbor to help put out the res that still raged in the city even aer an entire fortnight. Would
that a dragon could breathe water instead of re when needed. Both Jon and Tyrion had insisted
she stay back from the city for her own safety until they could gauge the temperature of the
people’s reaction to her presence. She’d reluctantly agreed, nding tasks outside the city that
would be helpful despite her overwhelming desire to do as she had done in Meereen; feeding
plague victims and building pyres for the dead and dying with her own hands.
She looked across the barren elds all the harvests safely indoors before the snow had come
now laid bare from the marching armies and the rain, leaving the elds nothing more than vast
expanses of mud. She wondered if the seed stores in Highgarden were raided as well as their
gold. Ser Jaime would know – she would ask him before he and Tyrion le for Casterly Rock that
evening to bury their sister.

Dany had been wildly unprepared for Tyrion’s reaction to seeing his sister’s body when she had
been brought out from the Red Keep, already bathed and dressed, wrapped for her nal journey
home. She felt inadequate at best in consoling her Hand, even Ser Jaime had been unable to
oer anything more than hollow words of comfort to his little brother. Tyrion had loved his sister
even when she’d made it cruelly clear that she’d hated him. He’d loved her still, even aer all
she’d done to hurt him. Daenerys nearly envied him his love, unreturned though it was, thinking
of how she’d only felt relief when Drogo killed Viserys.

She looked down at the pavilions on the tourney grounds, the Silent Sisters attending to the
dead and wounded there. The Dothraki women had swarmed in, giving aid and weaving
bandages out of linen when it was available, grass when it was not, their great cooking res set
up to feed the thousands of homeless who now relied completely on the invading armies for
food and shelter from the cold and wet rain. Homes outside the city had taken in some of the
refugees, large tents set up outside the borders took care of the rest. They looked small from
so high above.

On the North side of the city, near where the Dragon Pit used to be, the Northern armies had set
up their own camps, the Dothraki surrounding it with their seemingly endless tents, a sight most
welcome aer so much loss. Daenerys was looking forward to the day’s end when she could
disappear into the labyrinth of tents and retire in her own, just her and Jon while the rest of the
world continued on without them. She was even eager for the promise of jokes and stories in
front of any of the res as they ate and made merry before retiring to bed.

Dany closed her eyes at the slight feeling of nausea that overcame her and smiled. Hello
there, little dragon. I’m glad you’re here. She’d never thought she would be so glad to feel
sick. “Drogon,” she whispered. “I need to walk for a bit. I need Jon. Where is Jon?”

Drogon hovered in the air for a long moment, then silently glided them down to the ground,
not far from the Northern camp. Rhaegal called Drogon from above, so Dany quickly
dismounted so Drogon could rejoin his brother.
Arya came riding up to her, leading another horse. “They’ve been waiting for you,” she
greeted. “Jon’s nally got back from working in the city, and he’s waiting in Lord Umber’s tent.
They’re

gathering to discuss what’s to be done next.”

“Is Connington there?” Dany asked, then hated herself for feeling so petty. She looked o toward
King’s Landing so Arya couldn’t see her face; her words so beneath her that she felt ashamed for
having said them.

“He’s already le. Ser Davos and Jon spoke with him a few days ago about how you felt
about all this, so he’s giving you some more room. He loved your brother and I think he’d
hoped he could love you at some point, too,” Arya said wistfully.

“He loved my brother a far sight more than I did, or ever will,” Daenerys answered
shortly, mounting her horse. She gestured toward the still smoking, burning city. “If
Rhaegar had done his duty, none of this mess, all this death, none of it would have
happened.”

“Cersei is to blame, too,” Arya reminded her. “Lord Tywin, the Freys, the Cleganes,
your father It doesn’t all rest on Rhaegar’s shoulders, you know.”

Daenerys bit her lip. “Cersei wouldn’t have been in such a place of power if Rhaegar hadn’t ”

“Jon wouldn’t be here, either, ‘if Rhaegar had done his duty,’ you know,” Arya interrupted her
staunchly, quoting Dany’s words back to her. “And you can’t tell me you wish he hadn’t been
born. You could maybe make the words, but you and I both know better. What if you hadn’t
loved the Martell Aegon? You’d still have been forced to marry him, especially if Aerys had
still been alive.”

“I have already been forced to marry. Twice,” Dany pointed out. “I even came to love one of
them aer a fashion.”
Arya stopped her horse. “Really?” she demanded.

Dany nodded, nudging her horse to keep walking despite its companion’s halt. “Once to
Khal Drogo when I was thirteen, used as payment for an army Viserys was never going to
get, and then once to Hizdahr zo Loraq of Meereen to keep the peace in the city.”

“And Jon?” Arya pressed, kicking her horse to walk next to Dany’s.

Dany melted at that. “It made sense from a political standpoint,” she began, but seeing
Arya’s look she spoke quickly. “But I’m glad there was such a convenient excuse to marry
the man I admire and love.”

“There you are, then,” Ayra answered with a tone of nality. “I told Jon, back when he was
having his t about being Rhaegar’s son ...... I told him that the both of you were made of
the
same cloth. You were made for each other. Everything happened the way it did and there’s no
changing it. Hating dead men won’t make anything better for those le behind.”

“Arya Stark, would you like to be the new Hand of the Queen?” Dany jested. “It seems like
sometimes you’re the only one who talks sense anymore.”

“Oh hah. No. No thank you,” Arya answered with a laugh. “I’ve got a life to live, and from what
I’ve seen and heard, the lives of Hands are dismally short. Congratulations, by the way. Jon’s told
me.”

She cringed. “He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” she exclaimed indignantly.

“We argued in the Red Keep about how to handle the guards. He told me that he couldn’t
watch my back and protect his pregnant wife at the same time. That was right before he
shoved you back on Drogon,” Arya explained. “I swear it, I haven’t told anyone, though aer
all this maybe some good news would be helpful?”
“Maybe,” Dany agreed. “I’d like to wait just a few more weeks, though. Jon and Ithere’s not
much privacy in our lives, and it ’s going to get even worse in the coming months. I’d like to keep

it between the two of us for as long as we can, just something all our own.”

“He says you want to go back to Winterfell to have the baby,” Arya said quietly, aware they
were
nearly within earshot of other people. “Would you rather have Sansa and I come to stay for a
bit at the Red Keep instead? A little of home without having to travel so far away? Our mum
could barely climb four steps the last few weeks before Rickon was born, I can’t imagine riding
Drogon so far.” She paused for a moment. “I’m not burdened with politics, but what would
do the
most good for your, ah, position with the people here in King’s Landing?”

Dany shook her head. “My ties to the North are more important,” she whispered. “I mean to
rule all Seven Kingdoms. I mean to do what’s right and fair, but I can’t deny Jon his desire to
have his children born in the North, Arya. It’s too dear to him and I don’t think he’s ever truly
asked anyone for anything he wanted. I want for him to have this one thing that means so
much to
him.”

Arya nodded, quiet. “I think that’s much more romantic than any vows you could have spoken
to him in the godswood,” she said nally, dismounting her horse and waiting for Daenerys to do
the same. She reached out and took Dany’s hand. “Good luck in there,” she said quietly, then
hugged her impulsively. “It’s all going to work out. I don’t know how yet, but I really think it
will.”

Jon looked down at the red stone oor beneath his feet. Missandei had scattered the dried
purple owers that Daenerys loved so much amongst the rushes that littered the oor, bringing a
freshness to the air when trod upon. The scent reminded him of their rooms back in Winterfell,
the grassy and clean aroma that had begun to cling to everything, from the linens of their bed
to the furnishings and heavy drapes now starting to do the same in the Red Keep, making it
nearly tolerable for him.
He stood out of the way as a group of attendants carried a newly made mattress past him,
heading to the bedchambers in Maegor’s Holdfast; Jon nally setting his eyes on the new bed
he’d share with Dany that night, their rst night inside the Red Keep, their tent no longer
necessary The room had been gutted and somehow cleaned of all the carnage over a month
before and there seemed to be no lasting reminders detectable by either sight or smell, to his
great relief. He followed the group to the royal bedchamber, watching quietly from a corner as
they maneuvered the impressively sized bedding into place, covering it with linens before
using the blankets and cushions that had come with Daenerys from Essos along with furs and
drapery

from Winterfell. He stood aside as another attendant came in with a long roll of heavy fabric,
shaking it out with the aid of two others, exposing a tapestry.

Stepping closer, he inspected it quietly, inhaling a quick breath as he realized what he was
seeing. It was Aegon the Conquerer and Balerion the Dread, mounted high upon one of the
towers of Harrenhal. The parallels were not lost upon Jon, and he knew precisely why Daenerys
would have chosen that one for their bedroom. He nodded in approval and le the room,
letting them get on with it.

It was only a short walk from the bedchambers to the Iron Throne, where Daenerys was moving
around the room, speaking to the last of the Northern Lords before their departure back to the
North. Jon sped his pace, reaching her side and reaching out to clasp hands with Lord and Lady
Glover, wishing them a safe journey back to Deepwood Motte.

Daenerys stepped aside with Lady Glover and the two smiled conspiratorially toward their
husbands, but bade each other farewell warmly with nothing else said. Jon knew better than to
ask; there was plenty of time for that later. He took in a deep breath and let it out contentedly,
watching Daenerys move around the throne room, smiling and not withholding either her well
wishes or her thanks for the aid the North had given in the battle. He began to do the same as
he made his way to the end of the room, exiting and standing out on the steps as he looked
down at King’s Landing spread below him.

The scorched ground that once was Flea Bottom and that stretched to the Dragon Pit was lled
with workers still struggling to remove rubble, laying stone and brick, and carrying timbers
and water for mortar to rebuild the area from the previously nonexistent sewers and reeking
cobblestones to community wells and small gardens alongside houses. He’d dismounted his
horse on countless occasions to help li and move rubble, sometimes to help bring water
and food to the masons and laborers as they toiled.

Aer a particularly heated and lengthy session of lovemaking late one night in their tent, she
had curled up on his chest and conded in him what she had dreamt of doing in Meereen to turn
it
prosperous with olive trees and fruit. She had fully intended to stay and watch her saplings grow,
and she had whispered to him that she’d nearly regretted leaving on more than one occasion.
She knew she’d never get to go back and see her orchards in Meereen, so Jon became
determined to give her new ones, new fruit that she would live to see bear food and prosperity

for her people.

He found he enjoyed the planning and riding through the slowly rebuilt streets to oversee the
progress, and enjoyed it even more when she rode by his side, helping wherever she could,
asking the builders questions and greeting the families who would live in the homes being
built. He’d watched with great satisfaction as she’d held the apricot sapling’s slender trunk in
place while the roots were carefully covered and tamped down into the ground in the newly
constructed garden between streets. She’d spent the entire day that way, moving from one
unnished garden plot to the next, pears and apples and apricots, along with a special gi – a
small grove of peach trees sent from the Reach with the kindest regards from Horn Hill,
Samwell Tarly’s mother and sister. He’d brought her back to their tent that night, exhausted and
dirty, but he knew he’d ever seen her so peacefully content.

Riders were approaching from the harbor, shaking Jon from his pleasant thoughts, so he turned
and went back to the throne room, seeing Daenerys seated on the Iron Throne. He couldn’t help
the smile on his face. She belonged there, more than anyone else ever had. It was the ugliest
throne in Westeros, but ..... it wasn’t nearly as hideous as it had been the rst time he’d seen it,
empty and cold, blackened with malice and greed. It shone now with a little more light, a little
more silver and a lot less black, nearly as though it knew better days were upon them all.

“Riders are coming, Your Grace,” he said as he approached her, kissing her soly on the
temple in greeting. “From the harbor. They’ve traveled a fair ways, I expect.”

Tyrion turned to look at him from his seat o to the side of the Throne, looking up from the
scroll he was reading and setting it aside. “Did you see a ship?”

“I didn’t notice any particular one,” he answered. “There’s a fair few out there, clearing the
harbor.” Indeed, the harbor was lled with dredging sailors pulling up wreckage to clear
the harbor for trade.
She nodded, sitting forward slightly, shiing her position on the Throne. “I suppose we should
prepare for nearly anything, then.”

He stood next to her and laid a gentle hand on her warm shoulder. “I’m here.”

Her hand nding his and squeezing it tightly where it rested on her shoulder felt wonderful.
“Thank you.”

Small sounds of greeting went up amongst the Dothraki guards who stood at the great
doorway, making Jon even more curious about the unknown guests, a small group of men in
exotic silk robes carrying small chests, one on each side, unburdened with the weight. He heard
Tyrion curse soly under his breath, so Jon turned his attention to his wife, watching Daenerys
carefully as her face tensed and a hard line formed at her jaw as a man stepped forward, a man
with wild blue hair and a three pronged beard glittering with gold rings, carrying a small chest
all on his own. Jon watched as the man knelt down at Dany’s feet, settling the chest down on
the stone steps in front of her carefully. “Your Grace,” he whispered, glancing up to look at her.

“What brings you all this way to King’s Landing, Daario Naharis?” she asked, her voice low and
so. Jon tensed next to her, knowing of Daario and the position he’d held in Dany’s court and
bed while she ruled in Meereen. He had no concern for any former lovers, though. Daenerys was
his wife, pregnant with his child. Tyrion came to stand next to Jon, but Jon glanced at him in
reassurance and shrugged his shoulders as inconspicuously as he could manage. There was no
need for either of them to be rued by Daario’s temporary presence.

“A gi,” he answered, looking from Daenerys to Jon, then letting his gaze fall on Tyrion for a moment
in recognition before he looked back to Dany. “A gi beyond compare. I nearly stumbled upon it
in the cisterns, and knew immediately that no mere raven that I could send to you would suce. I
searched and searched, and have found .........................................” He cut o his own words, and
lied the lid of the trunk, carefully untucking the thick purple silk from around the precious
cargo within. A glittering opalescent egg shone from within the depths. Daenerys was out of
her seat and kneeling on the oor in front of Daario in barely the blink of an eye. “When? How?”
she cried. Jon could hear the tears in her voice, threatening to fall, but he held himself back.
She was all right, and he’d let her be unless Daario tried anything untoward.
She turned back to look at him. “Jon,” she called soly. “They’re dragon eggs. One of the
three . .
. ” her voice trailed o, the heaviness of her realization hitting her. “Viserion,” she whispered,
bowing her head for a moment. Jon went to her side and lied her to her feet, holding her
closely in an attempt to comfort her in her still-present grief. “Daario Naharis, this is my husband

and King, Jon Snow,” she said, introducing the two men from the depths of Jon’s chest. The
two men nodded to each other and Daario bowed respectfully, though Jon noted that Daario
looked more than a little disappointed.

“How many?” Jon asked, taking the precious dragon egg from Dany and cradling it in his arm
as lovingly as he would his own child. Viserion’s child. Jon briey wondered if dragons were
aectionate to their young before he considered how they were with their mother and he was
no longer concerned.

“There are four, Your Grace,” Daario answered, backing up to stand. Jon felt Dany jerk in his arms
in surprise, pulling away from Jon to have a look at the eggs. Daario gestured for the other
trunks to be brought forward, pleased with her response. “We packed them all separately to
ensure their safety on the rough seas.” One by one the lids were opened and the silks pushed
aside to reveal the eggs; a dark blue, a golden yellow, and a lavender that matched Dany’s eyes.

Jon couldn’t help it, the urge to assert his position more than he could quell. “It looks like our
family is going to grow even more, Love,” he whispered to her, kissing her soly on the lips as
his hand wandered down to the slight swell of her belly. He peripherally caught the look of
despair on Daario’s face and felt guilty for a moment, but was pleased that Daario had
received Jon’s message that Daenerys was no longer attainable loud and clear. He looked up
from Dany’s face and spoke directly to the man. “We thank you for the gi, and we thank the
people of Meereen for returning such precious property to the rightful owner,” he said warmly.
He looked back down to Daenerys and smiled at her, letting all his love shine through his
eyes.

“May all of your sons grow to become dragon riders,” Daario said to Dany. Jon watched him raise
a hand tentatively for just a moment before Tyrion stepped forward slightly; he thought better
of it and lowered it again. “Meereen misses their Queen, and eagerly hopes to be honored with
a visit some time in the future, Your Grace.”
“Will you stay in the city for long?” Tyrion asked him, his tone calm and businesslike. “There are
several brothels worth a visit if you re interested in staying a few nights.

“I thank you, Lord Tyrion, but no,” he answered, relieved to be looking away from Jon and Dany.
“The Second Sons are waiting for their orders, and the winds are favorable for a swi and safe

return. I will not stay.”

Dany’s head came to rest against Jon’s chest again. “Then it is farewell again, Daario Naharis
of the Second Sons,” she replied calmly, though Jon could feel a sense of loss and sadness
about her words.

“Farewell, my Queen,” Daario answered, bowing and then backing away slowly before turning
and leaving the room, his silk adorned escorts following close behind.

Jon and Daenerys stood on the top of the dais and stared down at the chests neatly aligned
with the top step in front of the Throne. She leaned down and gently scooped up the dark blue
egg and passed it to Jon, then cradled the gold and the lavender in her arms. “Let’s move them
back to our room,” she said quietly. “It’s well guarded there, and we can talk about this,” she
looked at the guards and the few members of court who had been watching from the balcony
above. “In private.”

He followed Dany out of the room and up the steps toward their bedchambers, discovering he
enjoyed the warm weight of the eggs, one in each arm. Dragon’s eggs, in his arms. He was
carrying dragon eggs. He smiled at the thought of telling his younger self of the wonders that
were in store for him when he grew to be a man. You’ll be a dragon rider, Jon. You’ll marry the
most beautiful woman in the world, have children with her, hold dragon’s eggs and rebuild
cities; you’ll change thousands of lives for the better, Jon.

Once inside their locked and bolted bedroom, Dany settled her two eggs down on the bed and
reached for the blue one. “It looks much more comfortable in here now, doesn’t it?” she asked,
glancing at Jon to see his expression about their new quarters.

Jon nodded at her question, taking inventory of the room before glancing at Dany for a moment,
then let his gaze rest onto the great opalescent egg that was still cradled snugly in the crook of
his arm. “Viserion laid them....you think?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Though it makes me want to go immediately to Dragonstone

and search for more.”

“He said he found them in a cistern?” Jon asked.

“Drogon killed a child, or so the sheperds claimed,” she said. “It was several years ago, the
dragons only about half the size they are now. I caught Viserion and Rhaegal, lured them
down to the cistern and I chained them. I locked them away to keep them from killing
again, but Drogon escaped . . . he . . . I’m glad he got away, and the other two I never
forgave myself for
that.”

“You did what you thought was right,” Jon pointed out rmly. “No forgiveness is needed for
that.”

“No,” she said. “Though I oen ask it of Rhaegal even now.”

“He holds no grudge, I’m more sure of that than anything else. He loves you,” Jon protested.
“He knows you regret it and he forgave you long ago if he’d ever felt it was needed.”

She nodded sadly, then turned back to the eggs on the bed. She carefully lied the lavender
one again, holding it up and admiring it. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered to the egg. The light
coming from the window behind her made the egg glitter like some great jewel, the light
making it sparkle with the same re that lled Dany’s eyes when she laughed.

“That one’s our daughter’s,” Jon said to her suddenly. He gently settled the great
iridescent egg on the bed next to its siblings before coming to stand behind her, cradling
the small lump in her belly in both his hands.
“Oh, so you think we’re having a girl, then?” she asked, leaning back in his arms, holding the
lavender egg so it rested on top of his hands.

He shrugged and then kissed her ear. “She might not come this time, but....maybe the next
time.”

“So you think it’s a boy?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” he chuckled. “I couldn’t even venture a guess. What do you think?”

She hummed for a moment, her eyes closed. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I knew nearly
immediately with Rhaego. I knew he was a boy.” She was quiet for a long moment, her
breaths slow and steady. “No, I can’t tell,” she murmured, shaking her head. “It might be too
early to tell.”

He gently rubbed his hands up and down on the bump, smiling. He couldn’t help it; ever since
he
could feel it, he had to touch it, feel their baby growing within her. He eagerly looked forward to
actually feeling the baby move within her, though he knew it would likely be a few months since
even Dany couldn’t feel any movement yet. The thought of feeling his child move lled him with
both love and lust for Daenerys.

Jon considered his options for making an advance on her, wishing to initiate a bit of intimacy
aer their eventful morning. He settled on moving his hands up to caress her tender breasts
through her clothing, enjoying her sigh of pleasure for a moment before a light knock echoed
through the heavy door, interrupting them. “Your Graces are requested for an audience by Ser
Jon Fossoway,” Tyrion announced from the door between their bedroom and their private front
room. “He wishes to petition Your Graces to legitimize his claim over the care and residence of
Highgarden.”

Daenerys reluctantly pulled out of Jon’s embrace. “Later,” she whispered to him, kissing him
soly on the lips. “I’m coming,” she called, delicately settling the lavender egg down on the
furs of their bed and then she unbolted the door.
“Also, Your Grace.......” Tyrion paused for a moment. “Ser Jon Connington of Grin’s Roost would
like to have a private audience with you and His Grace at your earliest convenience.” Jon felt
a li of hope, looking from Tyrion to Dany. Please, Daenerys. Please, Love. Speak to him.
You won’t regret it.

Daenerys sighed heavily. “I can’t avoid this forever, can I?” she groaned. “I had hoped
that restoring him to Grin’s Roost would have been enough ”

“Well, he’s not disappearing as you would have liked or hoped,” Tyrion pointed out as they
walked back to the Throne. “To repeat his earlier words to me today, he has amends to make
and forgiveness to seek and that he’d really rather have it before he goes to his grave.”

She turned to look back at Jon, catching him admiring her backside as she walked in front of
him. He expected some sort of chastisement, but instead she just waited for him to walk by her
side. “He’s getting persistent again,” she sighed. “I don’t suppose I can avoid him forever, can
I?”

“No, you can’t,” Jon agreed comfortably.

“Your friend has become a thorn in my side,” she complained quietly.

“He was my father’s friend, and yours,” Jon corrected her gently, tamping down on the pleased
feeling rising in his chest. “He got you and Viserys out of Dragonstone. If you would have stayed,
you would have been killed.”

“Fine, have him meet us in our small council chambers,” she agreed. She glanced around at
the growing crowd in front of the Iron Throne. “It looks like it will be over dinner to save
time, or I
meet with him there now and Jon. .”

Jon was already stalking toward the Throne, but came back to her and kissed her soly on the
cheek. “I’ll take care of this,” he whispered. “You go speak with Connington.”
 Will you actually sit? she teased, barely containing her laugh.

Shit. “Might,” he answered saucily. “Or not. Depends on if I get tired of standing.”

It had the desired eect; she laughed a little, then turned back toward the stairs.

Jon waited until she’d gone, then sat on the Throne for the rst time. It was slightly cold but not
nearly as uncomfortable as it looked. It warmed quickly under him, and he turned his complete
focus onto the line of people in front of him, Tyrion at his side to help him make judgement on
their requests.

“Your Grace, you came alone?” Connington greeted her when she stepped into the small council
chamber. He came to her and knelt at her feet, taking her hand and kissing it soly before
releasing her, looking up at her and waiting for her to tell him to rise.

“I did,” she answered. “Rise, Ser Jon. Let’s be seated near the re and we’ll talk.”

“I’m in your debt, Your Grace,” he began as soon as she was seated, following suit aer a
moment out of respect. “Thank you for returning Grin’s Roost to me.”

“Your home,” she said simply. “It needed to be restored to its proper owner.”

He looked to the re for a long moment, then sighed. “Where have you been, sweet child?” he
whispered, tears coming to his eyes before he collected himself. “What happened to you
aer you le Dorne?”

“Braavos,” she corrected thinly. Aer so many years of keeping it all quiet and repressed, she
found herself nearly yearning to let it all out, to be free from it. She was uncertain whether

Connington was the right person to burden with it, but....telling Jon would break his heart and
she didn’t want him to pity her.

He shook his head. “No,” he answered. “Prince Doran of Dorne took you in, hiding you
within his capital city. Ser Willem Darry took you to Dorne, to Sunspear.”

“I’m fairly certain I was in Braavos, Ser,” she answered him. “The house, I remember it had a red
door and a lemon tree outside my window.”

“Lemon trees cannot grow in Braavos, Your Grace,” he replied gently. “It’s too cold. The Dornish
are famous for their lemons, are they not? Lemons, water gardens.....safe havens for children
hunted by assassins....”

She stared at him openly, realizing he spoke truly. “What happened to you aer we le
Dragonstone?”

“I stayed and buried your mother,” he answered honestly. “She deserved to be surrounded by
her family and die peacefully in her sleep, but......I did what I could. I loved her deeply; never
a
more loving or kind woman walked upon this earth before her, and I thought I’d never live to see
the like of her aer, but here you are, a miracle heaped upon a blessing....I buried her with
love, then sailed to Essos. I thought if I fought enough, killed enough men, I could somehow
atone for not having been by your brother’s side when he fell under Robert’s hammer.”

She nodded, then looked back at the re. “I hated him,” she whispered. “Not until Ser Willem
died, of course, but then I hated Rhaegar for putting all of us in the positions he did. I
thought
him full of folly, selsh and cruel. I learned more from Ser Barristan Selmy before he died.”

He nodded slowly. “Ser Barristan knew Rhaegar as well as I did. When did Ser Willem die?” he
asked.
“I was ve ” she answered dully “The servants took everything and pushed us out the door
leaving me and Viserys out in the streets . . . we le the city, took a ship to another city . . .

Volantis, I think. Viserys tried to get work as a cabin boy, but he wasn’t good enough, fast
enough. We traveled when we had to, starved and hid when we couldn’t. We were chased by
wild dogs many times, Viserys once liing me up into a tree to keep me away from their
teeth. We sold Mother’s crown so we could eat for a week, but then it was all gone
again.”

She was aware that Connington was staring at her, but she couldn’t bear to look at him,
couldn’t withstand his expression; she’d end up crying and that was something she refused
to allow herself in that moment. Later, she promised herself. “And Viserys? He was good to
you?” he asked, his voice rougher with his tears.

Dany didn’t know how to answer that at rst, but nally she stared at the re and shook her
head slowly. “He’d gone mad by the end,” she whispered. “He sold me to the Dothraki
for their army when I was thirteen. Khal Drogo raped me every night for months until I
wanted to kill myself, though aer I’d thought about it I came to love him eventually.”

“You were but a child,” Connington exclaimed harshly, getting up from his seat and pacing

behind it. “You were still a baby.”

“I had already bled, so I was considered a woman grown to all those men,” she answered mildly.
“Illyrio Mopatis, Viserys, and Khal Drogo. At the time, it seemed the only way to get home.”

“Where were you when this . . . wedding...happened?” he demanded.

“Pentos,” she answered. She looked up at him when he cursed under his breath.

He came to kneel in front of her. “My Queen, I ask for forgiveness I do not deserve. I should
not have walked away from your ship aer giving you to Ser Willem. He was an old man when
he took you from my arms. I knew you’d have few years with him, but I was too much a
coward to step forward and take you myself. I should have. I should have seen past my own
broken heart and taken you and Viserys to Dorne myself. I should have ”
“We can’t change it,” she said quietly. “Though I do forgive you. My path lead me to Jon
and the Iron Throne where we belong. The rest is in the past and it can stay there without
further thought.” She was quiet for a moment, looking at the weathered face in front of
her. She took a deep, shaking breath, her only real question leaping out of her heart and into
her tear lled voice. “Tell me of my mother, please?”

He took her hands and kissed them. “Your mother’s last word was your name. She put you in
my arms and said your name, and then she was gone. She loved you so much. You resemble
her greatly. When I saw you on the battleeld I laughed a little inside and called her name,
thinking for a moment that I was seeing a ghost.”

“My father had raped her,” Dany whispered. “I had always wanted to know.” She choked back
the pain in her chest that was welling up. I will not cry. I will not cry. I just need to know.
“Whether she’d wanted me or not.”

It was Connington’s tears that provoked her own. “She wanted you desperately. When the
midwives told her that you were a girl, she cried and held you and kissed you. She tried to t

years of love into just the few short hours she knew she had le. I swear to you, Your Grace,
you were loved and wanted. Your mother’s only regret was that she wasn’t going to live to
protect
you and love you long enough for you to remember it.”

Daenerys sat back in her chair, squeezing his rough, weather beaten hands in her own. She
nodded slowly, letting out the breath she was holding. “And now her grandchild stirs within
me,” she whispered.

“Would that she were here to love you both,” Connington replied, pulling himself upright and
standing. He bowed to her. “I will take my leave of King’s Landing and return to Grin’s Roost,
Your Grace,” he said, ignoring his tears. “I am forever yours to call upon should you have any
need of me, great or small. I am your knight.”

“You are a lord now, Lord Connington. Your House in Storm’s End answers to Gendry Baratheon
and his lady wife, Arya. See to it you serve them faithfully, and through them, Jon and I,” she
answered him. “I will hope, however, that when the bells ring for the birth of this child, you will
come and touch Rhaella’s grandchild with the same loving hands you’ve shown me.”
“There’s no greater honor you could possibly give me, Your Grace. I will gladly do as you
ask,” he answered, bowing once more and leaving the room quickly. He closed the door to
give her the room and some privacy.

Daenerys stayed in her chair for a long moment, staring at the re as she let the tears fall. Her
only question about her family had been answered; she’d been wanted and she’d been loved.
Viserys had hated her, blamed her for the troubles of their family, cursing her and telling
her she’d been born too late, she’d never amount to anything other than as his broodmare.
He’d hit her, slapped her, pinched and cursed her; the only family she’d ever known. Her
mother had held her though, and had kissed and loved her and welcomed her with dying arms
lled with regret and the knowledge that they wouldn’t hold her for nearly long enough.
Connington said that Rhaella had tried to make their only hours together full enough to
last her for years. She wondered if the black dragon in her dreams, the one that rose within
her in times of duress, she wondered if it was really her mother that breathed the re into her
and brought her back from wishing for her own death on the Dothraki Sea, pulled her back
from death when Rhaego was born, saved her from the plague sickness before she was
picked up by Khal Moro. She liked to think that it was.

She slowly stood from the chair, though quickly sat back down as the dizziness overcame her. I
feel you, little Dragon, she thought. Let me up, my little love. We’ve got a full day ahead of us
still. She waited a few minutes, then stood again, relieved when it was easier to walk to the door.
She looked back to the replace and smiled through her tears. There was no need to look back
ever again. Connington carried the weight of it all with him now, and Jon’s love was the only
thing that mattered to her heart. The wounds of the past were done bleeding, and now they
could nally heal.

Tangent Chapter 20
Jon lay awake, staring at the high canopy of their bed, the bed of state larger and much more
decorated than the contents of their rooms at Winterfell. Even aer so many months, it was still
taking him time to get adjusted to it all. Some nights, he was so exhausted that he was able to

fall asleep immediately and not care where he was, but this night he had a lot on his mind. His
eyes dried to the candles burning low in the sand-lled trunk where the dragon eggs were
warmly nestled, their glow reecting o the red stone soly and lling the room with a dim, warm
light. Daenerys had done it all as lovingly as she’d prepared the little bed that now waited
at the far end of the room, a strange mix between Dothraki and Westerosi, the dark wood as
intricately carved and decorated as an arakh handle, lined with furs with a so woolen blanket
delicately embroidered with the Targaryen sigil in red silk. He smiled down at it before letting his
mind wander back to the thoughts that were keeping him awake.

She’d been quiet for the past week, preoccupied and impatient, and so when they’d come to
bed that night he’d nally asked her outright what she was thinking about. He had not been
prepared for the onslaught of memories and experiences of her childhood that seemed to pour
out of her as she sat on the edge of the bed, holding the lavender egg against her growing
belly as Jon sat in a chair across from her, stunned into silence as she’d broken down and told it
all. He

rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together to keep from reaching out and
grabbing her, to prevent him from any attempt at stopping the horric torrent of words that
were pouring out of her.

He was heartbroken at the thought of his little Daenerys, thin, dirty, and ragged, roaming the
streets of Volantis, digging through street refuse for food, shrinking in fear from her brother’s
violence. Someone had taken them in at one point, she couldn’t recall where or how old she’d
been exactly, but she remembered an older woman with a kind face, remembered being
bathed and dressed and fed with love for at least a little while before her brother had forced
her from her bed one night and dragged her away. Viserys had claimed assassins were aer
them, but

she’d had no way of refuting his claims or refusing his commands.

Her time in Pentos was a little better, fed, clothed, and cared for, and Illyrio had the sense to
post guards at her door to keep even her brother out and away from her during the night,
never leaving her alone during the day. Jon shuddered internally, not able to bear revisiting
Dany’s fear and pain when Khal Drogo had forced his body and will upon hers. He’d barely
managed to keep his thoughts of horror to himself while she told him of it. He remembered
Sansa at thirteen; she’d been a child still, her body only beginning to have a woman’s shape,
still ungainly and
awkward like a child’s, her thoughts no closer to a woman’s than they’d been when she was ve.
The khal had been a man nearly twice Dany’s age, and Jon wondered how the man could have

possibly rationalized the rape and brutality against one so.....She looked so young and innocent
even as she slept next to Jon at that moment, though she was nearing twenty, and he didn’t nd
it dicult to imagine how young she must have looked at thirteen.

He reected at Dany’s bravery, how she’d met his eyes that rst night aer they’d wed at
Dragonstone; how she’d trusted him to not violate or hurt her the way she’d been already,

trusted him with everything she had. He’d reminded himself before he’d knocked at her door
that night of her words the rst time they’d met; raped and deled. He’d been glad that even in
his highest moments of arousal he’d been acutely aware of her that night and he’d kept his
head, doing nothing to break that precious trust she’d gied to him, that her rst whispered word
of ‘no’ when he moved toward her had made him pause and step back from her, unwilling to
touch her until she permitted him to do so. Gods, that night.

He looked over at Dany, now already well past seven months into her pregnancy. He looked over
to see her face, letting his eyes wander over her beautifully ushed cheeks, her brow furrowed
in a little frown as though she were concentrating. He let his gaze linger for a moment before
indulging in the sight of her breasts peeking through the loose top of her gown; they were
larger,
rm and rounded and oh gods they were warm. They were also tender to the touch, so he could
only cup them soly and lightly kiss them for a few moments before she would carefully
redirect him elsewhere. He looked his ll before nally admiring her rounded belly, hidden
beneath her light linen gown but exposed from the furs and blankets to prevent her from
getting too warm. He put his hand on her soly, feeling a urry of kicks and a jumble of elbows
and knees greet him from beneath her gown. He hoped the leap of joy he felt whenever he
touched her would never grow stale.

He grinned, thinking back to the rst time Daenerys had grabbed his hand and pressed it into her
belly, the sensation of their baby moving within her beneath his palm bringing tears to his eyes.
“Can you feel that?” she’d asked, but he’d been unable to answer her, instead he’d fallen to his
knees and cried, pressing kisses to her belly and whispering words of love to their baby as she
stood in their room and laced her ngers through his hair. He’d looked up at her face for a
moment before he grabbed her around the hips and pressed his cheek to her, feeling little
bumps and nudges against his face. “We’ve been waiting for you,” he’d whispered against her
skin. “I can’t wait to hold you and see your face.”
He sighed audibly and shied closer, keeping his hand pressed to their child, who let him know
in no uncertain terms that his hand was a pell to be attacked.

“You’re still awake,” she sighed next to him, getting his attention. She reached down and
took his hand with her own.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m still trying to process all the things that had happened to you.
I’m glad you told me, I understand so much more now, Love. I get it. I love you.”

“I love you, too, and I’m sorry, that must have been a lot to take in all at once,” she
murmured, reaching up and pushing an errant curl from his face, her ngers lovingly tracing
the silvery scar on his brow.

He grabbed her hand and kissed it soly. “Don’t be sorry,” he whispered, scooting closer
to her so he could kiss her mouth, savoring her lips with his own. Her lips were fuller, too,
and so very so. It’s not possible that I could love you any more than I do right now,
Daenerys. Gods, I hope you know that. “Is there anything else on your mind?”

“I’ve changed my mind,” she whispered. “I want to go with our rst plan, Jon. I want to be in
Winterfell when this baby’s born. I’m glad of Arya and Sansa’s oer to be here with us here in
the Red Keep, but I want to go home. I feel a pull in my heart for home and I can’t ignore
it any more.”

He looked down at her belly. “You’d have to take Drogon instead of traveling overland,” he said
aer a long moment. “And we’d better let Sansa know you’re coming, if she hasn’t le already to
come here.”

“I already did,” she admitted quietly. “I sent the raven over a week ago. I felt guilty, the
thought of leaving you here to handle it all on your own, but I just ”

He smiled a little, then rested his hand on her face. “I’ll wrap things up here as quickly as I
can,” he said, kissing her in reassurance. “There’s plenty of help to be had, and I promise to
defer things to the small council. I’ll leave ahead of the court, and that should give you
enough time to
settle in properly and have some peace and quiet before they all follow us North.”

“I love you,” she whispered, her sigh sounding a lot like relief. “I just want to go home for this.”

“You want the grand maester to follow you?” he asked.

She sighed, searching for the right words. “The new grand maester has some....concerns,” she
whispered soly. “He’d very likely want to travel to Winterfell with the court for the birth, but
I don’t want him. I haven’t permitted him to touch me and I’d rather be in Winterfell for all
that. I don’t trust him, Jon. I don’t want him touching me.”

“What concerns could he have if he hasn’t seen to you properly?” Jon asked, turning
back onto his side to face her, a worried frown on his face. “Has anyone been attending
to you and the baby at all? Why am I only hearing about this now? Daenerys, you ought
to have said............................................................................................................................................. ”

“I hesitated to say anything because I know how close you were with Maester Luwin,” she
interrupted him. “He wouldn’t say for certain what his concerns are, but I should tell you that
I do not trust the Citadel or any of their elected. Your good friend, Lord Tarly.....he says that the
maesters have been working to poison the dragons for centuries and that’s why they started to
grow smaller. He wanted to warn me, wanted to protect Rhaegal and Drogon from harm.”

“That’s completely dierent, Maester Luwin and Winterfell. There were no dragons and no
power in Winterfell as there are here in King’s Landing,” he assured her. “The Grand Maester
is elected by their own private council and they have cause to want the dragons gone. They
challenge the power of the Citadel.” He thought it over carefully, barely noticing the patient
smile on Dany’s face while she waited for him to collect his considerations. “I stand by your
decision; I trust your instincts and Sam’s knowledge. I know a man who loves a certain ock of
little birds that are close to the grand maester, so he’ll be watched closely.” He was quiet for a
moment, thinking. He swept his hand gently over her cheek, brushing her hair back from her
face. “I know next to nothing about your plans surrounding the birth. Is there anything you
need for me to do when I follow you to Winterfell?”
She shook her head slowly. “All I really want is as few people as possible in our room when it’s
time,” she said. She looked like she wanted to say more, and Jon waited for her to continue,
but
she shied uncomfortably and pressed on her side with the palm of her hand. “Someone’s
got their foot in my ribs,” she hued out. “It’s harder to breathe when that happens.”

He put his hands on either side of her belly, holding their baby. “I love you, but you are a brat
and it’s past your bedtime. Go to sleep and leave Mama be,” he said, laughing a little when the
baby kicked and punched back at him. Something about her demeanor gave him pause.
“What’s the matter, Love?”

She looked up from her belly, her lavender eyes locking onto his grey ones. “I’m a little afraid,
Jon. My thoughts run away with me, and I get mired down in fear,” she admitted.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, toying with the curl he’d pushed back for a moment before
tucking it behind her ear.

“Of giving birth,” she claried. “All of it. The pain . . . the risks what if this one dies like
Rhaego did?” she asked. “I was so sick aer Rhaego was gone, my breasts were infected from
all the milk, what if I have none this time because of that? What if I get too tired and the baby
gets stuck and we both die? This baby is already quite a bit bigger than Rhaego was, and ” she
trailed o, trying to reach for him.

He got up from the bed and moved to her side, sliding back in and tucking himself behind her
so he could hold her comfortably without her needing to move. He held her tightly. “That’s a
whole lot of worries,” he whispered in her ear. “And I have no answers for any of them. It sounds
like the sooner we get you to Winterfell and settled in, the better. Leave in the morning, Love.”

It took nearly a full day for her to reach Winterfell, Drogon ying low enough for her to see the
wet, brown elds and the homes with smoke coming out of their chimneys, people in markets
pausing for a moment to look up and watch her as Drogon soared over their heads. Brown elds
gave way to grasslands edged with snow, then snow with patches of grass showing through
before it became a completely white, snow-covered landscape.
The rolling hills were becoming familiar patterns of raised slopes and snow lled valleys and she
no longer could hide the smile on her face when Winterfell loomed over the hills. Her heart

began to beat faster, the baby within rolling and kicking. You know we’re almost home, don’t
you? Her pulse picked up even more as she let her biggest concern ood the front of her mind.
No time for that now, she chastised herself. We’ll know more by tomorrow.

By the time Drogon was circling above the godswood, she could see people coming out the
front gates to greet her. Drogon swooped down and arched his back, alighting gently onto the
snow

and ice, carefully lowering his shoulder to help her down. “Daenerys!” Arya cried, bursting
through the gathered crowd and running to her side. “Oh holy hells,” she exclaimed, sliding to a
stop and staring at her. “May I?” She reached her hand out to touch Dany’s belly.

“Let’s go inside rst,” Dany answered her, shivering slightly. “We’re cold and a bit hungry.”

“Sansa’s scrambling to get everything ready for you,” she said. “She’s so excited she nearly
knocked over her chair when she heard Drogon outside.” She took Dany’s arm rmly to help
walk her slowly through the snow. “It’s been icy. I’d never forgive myself if you slipped and fell

out here.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you and Gendry had already le for Storm’s End? ”
Dany asked through chattering teeth. “Not that I’m not relieved and absolutely happy to see
you, of course.”

“Well.......we ended up adventuring in the Riverlands instead,” she explained. “And we decided
that waiting another few months before going back to Storm’s End was a better decision. We
just got back here a few days ago.”

“You missed home,” Dany commented atly, side-eyeing her.

“Well, that, too,” she admitted. “Though Storm’s End is beautiful. I like it there.”
Once inside the gates Daenerys looked up to the balcony but Sansa wasn’t there to look down
at them. “She’s just there,” Arya pointed out, Sansa coming out the door of the Hall, rushing to

greet Dany as well.

“You look half frozen!” she exclaimed, taking Dany’s hands and squeezing them tightly before

Daenerys moved to hug her. Sansa laughed and moved to Dany’s side so there was room to
embrace. “Come inside and get warm. There’s supper, too. I wasn’t sure when to expect you, but
. . .” she looked down at Dany’s belly. “I’m glad you didn’t wait any longer!”

“I know, I’m enormous,” Dany groaned. “Jon will be here in a few days. I’m to get properly
settled in before he gets here.”

Sansa helped Dany with her cloak and coat, passing them o to an attendant before turning back
to look at her. “You’re exhausted,” she observed. “Come, let’s eat in my room while we wait for the
res in yours start warming everything up. Should I send for Adara to come see you in the
morning or are you having your maester come to attend you?”

“The less said about the grand maester for now, the better,” she said in a low voice,
following Sansa back to her quarters. “I’d prefer Maester Wolkan and Adara? Who is she?”

“She’s the midwife of Winterfell,” Arya answered. “She’s one of Old Nan’s granddaughters. Old
Nan took care of all of us here when we were small. Adara’s quite good, she’s been doing it
for years and years and hasn’t lost a baby or mother yet. They say she has magic in her touch,
and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her unhappy.”

“I’d like to meet her,” Dany agreed, the sensation of a heavy burden being lied from her
shoulders washing through her like a ood. We’ll be all right now. “Let’s have her over aer
supper? I’d rather not wait. I haven’t allowed the grand maester to put his hands on me, and
I’d like to be in her care as soon as possible.”

Arya turned around and spoke to an attendant passing by in the corridor, requesting Adara’s
presence.
Sansa’s eyes met Dany’s for a moment as she settled into a chair before doing the same.
“Now, can I?” Arya asked, coming to kneel next to Dany’s chair.

“Oh, of course,” Dany invited, sitting back in the chair so Arya could put her hands on the
round swell of her belly. “The baby’s been particularly ”

“You’ve got a kracken in there, not a baby,” Arya laughed. “Sansa, come feel this! This baby is
trying to have a tourney in there.”

Dany took Sansa’s outreached hand and placed it high up on her side, near her ribcage, so
Sansa could feel the baby’s foot sliding back and forth against her skin. “That’s a foot,” she said
quietly. “And here ” she moved Sansa’s hand to the front, feeling the hard knob poking out.
“That’s a
knee or elbow, I can’t tell sometimes.”

Something passed through Sansa’s eyes, but she was smiling and reaching her other hand
around to feel more movements, exclaiming quietly and laughing with Arya as they played
with the active baby. Daenerys recognized what it was, but thought it better to wait for
another time to ask her about it. Sansa’s look was wistful and slightly sad. Had Ramsay hurt
her that badly?
Daenerys knew Sansa had suered greatly at the hands of her late husband, though she had no
way of knowing the extent of the damage. She worried for her sister. She brought her hand up
over Sansa’s and squeezed soly, causing Sansa to look up at her, and Dany gave her a small, sad
smile before she nodded slowly. “Later?” she asked.

Sansa sighed and smiled back. “Yes, later,” she promised. “We’ll go for a walk.”

Daenerys nodded. “When you’re ready,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

“I wish my mother and father could have known you,” Sansa said quietly.
“Your father kept me alive as best he could,” Daenerys reminded her. “That’s more of a blessing
from the Starks than I could have hoped for, considering the pain and suering my family has
caused yours in the past.” She shied in her chair and slowly pushed herself up to stand, Arya
giggling at her. “Shhh. When it’s your turn, I’m going to laugh at you, too.”

“You’d better. You’d better come to Storm’s End and laugh at me. Both of you,” Arya shot back
before turning toward the door when a so knock sounded. “Ah, supper.” She went to the door
and opened it, letting the attendants in to set up Sansa’s table with their food.

They ate together in peaceful contentment, glad to be with each other all over again.
“Has it been been busy here, Sansa?” Arya asked, breaking her bread and looking up at
her.

Sansa swallowed a bit of soup and shook her head. “Not really. There’s been some small
squabbles over even smaller matters, but that’s normal in the Winter, too many people sitting
next to the res with nothing to busy their hands or their minds except idle gossip that breeds
trouble.”

Daenerys nodded in agreement. “I have a little good news. The Fossoways have taken over the
residence of Highgarden,” she began. “And their seed stores were not lost.”

“Is it the red or green apple Fossoway?” Sansa asked, suddenly keenly interested in news of
other Houses.

“Green apple,” Dany answered.

“Ah, Ser Jon is married to Margaery Tyrell’s aunt,” she nodded knowledgeably. “She’ll know how
to care for Highgarden properly.” Sansa’s voice sounded of cool approval, distancing herself
suddenly with a deeper interest in her soup than strictly necessary.

“You miss Margaery, don’t you?” Arya asked directly, not missing a beat.
“I do. Very much. Most of the Tyrell family were lovely and kind to me,” Sansa answered,
then turned quiet again. “She was the closest thing to a friend that I had in King’s Landing.
She and Lady Olenna shielded me from Jorey on more than one occasion. I miss them both.”

Daenerys didn’t know what to say. Lady Olenna was dead because she’d joined with
Daenerys and the Lannisters wasted no time in killing her as surely as they’d killed the rest
of her family. Sansa was obviously lonely in Winterfell with everyone gone, le in solitude to
rule as Wardeness . . . too much time with her own thoughts and not enough conversation
............................................................................................................................................................................... Dany
shied her chair backward and struggled to stand up, smirking as Arya leaned over and gave
her a small push from behind, snickering at her again. “I’ll be back,” she promised. “I’m just
going to
send a raven to Jon and let him know I’ve arrived safely.”

She happily walked through the familiar passages and corridors of Winterfell, going the long
way around to the rookery to greet every stone and room she could, trailing her ngers against
the warm stone walls as she went. Her feet felt lighter, though her growing womb made it more
dicult to keep her balance. There was a certain freedom to be had inside the walls of
Winterfell; she could walk wherever she wanted without an escort or attendant following her
every move. Several bannermen bowed low, all with smiles on their faces as a few murmured
“Your Grace,” as she passed through the Hall, taking her coat and pulling it around her as
best she could before she stepped out into the gently falling snow, following the familiar path
to the
rookery.

She wrote out a quick message to Jon, assuring him of her health and asking him to bring a
few of the younger knights and lords with the court to help entertain and make their hosts
merry, hinting that they ought to be around the age of the young Wardeness. All she could do
was hope he’d understand what she was asking. She found the correct section of ravens that
knew how to get to the Red Keep and sent o her message. She shivered slightly, the chill
seeping back into her quickly despite her coat, so she turned to go back, stopping in her tracks
when she heard

running footsteps in the snow outside. Spooked by the unknown, she stood and debated
whether or not to call out or pursue the person in question for a long moment before she
decided against it.

She turned and walked back the way she came, staying to the lighted paths and corridors,
reaching Sansa’s rooms quickly and letting herself in. A wall of white fur stood in her path,
and a cold nose thrust itself in her face, sning her. Great red eyes met hers without either
of them needing to bend down. “Hello, my darling,” she whispered, leaning forward into his
neck.
“You’ve grown a bit since I last saw you.” She buried her face in his fur and wrapped her arms
around his neck the best she could, his warm fur lled with the scent of the forests and snow.

“Ouch! Ghost, your tail hurts!” Sansa laughed, pushing the back end of the direwolf out of her

way. “Go lay down if you’re going to stay in here. There’s no room for you to wander.”

Ghost stayed stubbornly frozen in place as Dany held onto him. “Jon will be here in a few days,”
she promised him. “Why don’t you go outside again and I’ll come for you before I go to bed?”
She let him go and he moved closer to the door. She touched him aectionately on the muzzle
before he turned and squeezed through the door. “O you go, my love.”

“He knew you were here!” Arya exclaimed. “He’s been gone for weeks, but he just came in
and started scratching like crazy at the door.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh! I heard him running when I was in the rookery. I didn’t know it
was him, though. I got a little scared.”

A knock sounded on the door, and a guard outside announced Adara. “Adara!” Sansa exclaimed.
“I haven’t seen her since Jon and I took back Winterfell.”

The woman that walked in the door was warm and friendly, helping herself to a hook near the
re for her cloak and gloves before coiling her long, brown braid into a knot and tying it with a
ribbon. “Lady Sansa?” she asked. “You have need of me?”

“No,” Sansa answered hastily, turning and looking away, a sudden ush to her cheeks. “Not
me.” She reached out and put her hand on Dany’s shoulder. “The Queen.”

“Your Grace, welcome back to Winterfell. No wonder so many people were happy in the winter
town tonight,” Adara greeted her happily, coming to her side and curtseying. “How far along?”
“Seven months and some weeks,” Dany answered, smiling. “Rise,” she invited, oering her hand.

Adara took her hand and delicately kissed it before standing. “Will the grand maester be joining
you here for the birth?” she asked.

Daenerys shook her head slowly. “No, he will not. If I can rely on your condence, I’ve not been
under his care in the Red Keep, either. I’m......I don’t trust him. I haven’t had anyone watching

over me except for one Dothraki midwife who returned to Essos with the rest of the khalasar
some four months ago,” she explained quietly. “I came to Winterfell as soon as I could, and I
had
hoped that you and Maester Wolkan would be the ones to look aer me for the duration of my
connement until the baby is grown enough to travel back to the capital.”

Adara looked down at Dany’s abdomen and smiled a little as she nodded. “Not many weeks
le I’m guessing, but we’ll know a more accurate due date in a few minutes. Let’s have you
get comfortable would you prefer to go to your rooms or borrow Lady Sansa’s bed for a
moment? I’d like to have a feel of the baby’s position and overall health, and I can measure you
and see roughly how much longer you have.”

Daenerys looked to Sansa, a questioning look on her face. “I’d rather stay here for now, it’s
warmer than my room is yet; I’ve only just arrived. Would that be all right with you, Sansa?”

Sansa nodded and led them back to her bed and made to leave, but Daenerys grabbed her hand
and pulled her back. “Stay?” she asked. Having Sansa near her helped calm her fears.

“Of course,” she answered, settling herself next to Dany on the bed, making room for
Arya next to her.

Daenerys held her breath as Adara placed gentle and experienced hands on her belly, pressing
and moving the baby within to get an idea of its size. Daenerys relaxed into the midwife’s touch,
feeling no discomfort despite the jostling of her baby and the baby responding in kind. “Only
about ve weeks le, Your Grace,” she assured her. She felt around a little more, grasping and
touching at the aggressively moving knees and elbows and feet. “Oh goodness,” she exclaimed
quietly.
“It’s an active one,” Dany agreed, nodding and smiling a little. “I don’t nd sleep to come easily
at night.”

Adara sat down on the edge of the bed near Dany’s hips and took her hands gently in her own.
“I want you to feel this,” she said gently. She placed one of Dany’s hands on her side. “This is the
baby’s back and head.” She took her other hand and placed it near the front of her abdomen,
lower and slightly to the opposite side. “And this is the other baby’s little rump and back. This
one is head down, and the other is sideways.”

“I’m sorry?” Dany choked out. “The other baby, what?” Arya whooped out a laugh but quickly
clapped her hand over her mouth when Dany’s belly visibly jumped in response to the noise.

Arya nudged Sansa. “I told you there was a tourney happening in there,” she mock
whispered, trying and failing to stie her laugh.

“There are two, Your Grace,” Adara said calmly, taking a deep and slow breath. Dany could tell
she was trying to help her stay calm as well, so she mimicked the action. “Feel again.” She
guided Dany’s hands again, showing her. “They’re both thriving, both of them good sized and
active, so I’m not concerned for their health at this point. Eat and rest as oen as you can, fresh
air and good company can do wonders.”

“Daenerys, are you all right?” Sansa asked, reaching out and grabbing her hand. “You’re
going pale.”

“I think so,” she breathed out, feeling slightly dizzy and sick. Her secret fear had been
realized, the nagging suspicion she’d kept from Jon for over two months making bile
rise in her throat. How was she going to survive the birth? “I had thought, maybe . . . but
........................................................................................................................................... ” she looked from
Sansa back to Adara before looking at Arya. “Oh gods, Jon...”
“Jon is going to love this,” Arya giggled. “He’s going to absolutely be happier than a bear in a
honey tree.”

“Are we wagering on this? We ought to wager on this. I think rst he’s going to panic,” Sansa
predicted. “Not full on, but he’s going to get that look on his face, you know the one.” She
made Jon’s slightly worried scowl, making Dany snort back a laugh at the perfect mimic of
his furrowed brow. “And he’s going to go all still and quiet. He might blink, but I’m not going
to put any coin on
that. Two dragons.”

Arya let out a low whistle. “High stakes, Sansa. I’ll see that wager and raise you one laugh
before he starts to breathe again,” she countered comfortably. “He’s not going to go full on
like he did when Bran told him the truth, but it’s going to be close. Daenerys? You have a
prediction? Come on, wager with us,” she cajoled.

Dany knew exactly why Arya and Sansa were doing this. They’re trying to distract me from
panicking. Gods, I love them so. “If you insist.....does it have to be in order?” She looked
at
Arya, who was nodding eagerly. “Oh, all right. He’s probably going to cry rst, then laugh, and
then.......everyone had better clear out, if you know what I mean. We’ll have collect and
exchange coin at a later time,” she predicted.

“Oh my gods,” Arya laughed. “How do you manage sex with them in the way like that? Oh,
don’t be like that, Sansa,” she chastised her sister, teasing her for her embarrassed hu as Sansa
turned away abruptly with ushed cheeks. “How do you think Daenerys got this way to start
with? Some magic with birds and seeds? She and Jon were always sneaking away to....”

“We were really grateful for the room so far away from everyone else in Harrenhal, Arya,” Dany
interrupted her as seriously as she could muster while grinning in jest, giving her a pointed look.
“Thanks for that.”

“Oh wow, that was the worst possible time, too,” she reected. “Well done Jon for performing
under so much stress. That’s admirable.” She was quiet for a minute before she gave a
sudden laugh. “Oh gods, is that why he yelled at that boy to fuck o? He didn’t waste any time,
did he?”
“You’re lthy,” Dany chastised her sister with a laugh.

“Oh no, I’m not lthy around you two,” Arya shot back smugly. “Gendry could tell you ....”

“Stop,” Sansa yelped, laughing and getting up o the bed.

A knock at the door sent Arya skittering to answer it. “Adara, you’re needed back in the winter
town,” she called. “Someone’s needing you. The message was to pack a bag.”

“Oh wonderful!” Adara exclaimed happily. “We’ve been waiting for this one for a fair while.
What a lovely night to be born.” She helped Dany get up and made her way to the door to
leave them for the night. “I’ll return in the morning for a proper visit, Your Grace,” she said
gently. “We’ll be able to talk more then and see to your wishes.”

“Come for breakfast if the baby is born at a reasonable time,” Sansa invited, a sudden warmth
and cheer in her voice.

“Thank you, my Lady,” she answered, wrapping her cloak about her and pulling on her
gloves. “I’ll be back in the morning.” She closed the door quietly as she le.

Daenerys stood near the replace, both hands on her abdomen. “ Twins,” she whispered. “I
had my suspicions, but I was too scared to think on it too deeply ”

Sansa pulled a chair over to her. “Sit,” she commanded.

“I’d really rather not,” she answered faintly. “I think I want to go to bed, please.”

The morning aer Jon arrived on Rhaegal, Arya groaned at him when he and Daenerys entered
the Great Hall together for breakfast, Daenerys ushed with warmth and love, Jon looking
happier than she’d seen him in a long time. “Here,” she mock sobbed, tossing a small
leather bag
onto the table in front of Dany’s plate, the bag clinking with coin. “You won that fairly, I’ll tell
you that much.”

Jon watched her in puzzlement and surprise, but then laughed when Sansa opened her pocket
and deposited two new and shining golden dragons carefully on top of Arya’s bag. “A wife knows
her husband better than his sisters do, apparently,” she said with a smile. “There. One for each
baby.”

He picked one up and looked at it, smiling a little in approval. “These are the rst I’ve actually
seen outside the stamp outlines in the press.” He held it up for Dany to see, then dropped
it into her hands. “I like that they listened to me and used your image instead of mine.”

Dany reached over and picked up the other coin. “Well, look at this,” she whispered, ipping it
over to show him with a smile on her face. “I don’t recall having a beard.”

He took the coin and turned it over, seeing his own face. “I look better upside down,” he
grunted, passing it back to her.

She scoed and leaned over to kiss him. “Thank you for being a good sport,” she whispered,
stroking his cheek gently.

“I didn’t even know I was playing,” he grumbled, pushing the coin at her, making all three sisters
laugh. “Or what you were wagering on.”

Later, aer they’d returned to their rooms, Jon le Daenerys alone to nap for a bit before Adara
made her daily visit to check on her, heading out to wander through the godswood and think.
He walked slowly through the ice crusted snow, taking in the crisp and fresh air around him. It
was good to be home.
Twins. He grinned, looking up at the heart tree, looking into the branches as the red leaves
whispered together in the breeze. He sat on one of the exposed roots and leaned back against
the trunk, thinking. There were two babies in there. Adara hadn’t been able to explain how
there
came to be two, nor could Maester Wolkan. One of life’s mysteries, he’d been told. He had asked
Daenerys if Adara would show him so he could touch them both, and she’d happily obliged.
He’d managed to not sob like a little girl all over again, but he’d hauled Dany up into his arms
and held
her, hiding his face in her neck as the tears had fallen before he began to laugh, his mirth
turning

to lust, the room emptying faster than he could tell them all to fuck o and get out. He never
knew how much he’d wanted......he cleared his throat and grinned again. He looked back up
into
the tree and sent out a heart felt thanks to the gods for their blessings and gis to him, grateful
beyond words. He humbly asked that Daenerys and both babies survive the upcoming birth
unscathed, for Dany to have a full and quick recovery.

Adara had said it would likely only be a few more weeks at most, that the strain of carrying two
would make it dicult for Daenerys to make it completely to full term. At his worried look, she
quickly assured him that she wasn’t very concerned, as both babies were sizable enough to
have little if any struggle at all outside the womb to survive, and the best that Dany could do
would be to rest and relax as much as she could.

No mean feat, considering what was happening inside the walls of Winterfell. Preparing for
the royal court was no small task, but Sansa was doing a brilliant job at it while
simultaneously working on several other side projects. Sansa, my sweet sister Sansa, he
lamented. Daenerys commented to him that Sansa had seemed not unhappy exactly,
but subdued a little when
she’d arrived. She had the impression that Sansa might have been lonely. Dany had also, in
the strictest condence, whispered to him that Sansa had discovered she was carrying
Ramsay’s child and had sought out Adara for her services the same night of Ramsay’s death
to rid herself of all traces of the Boltons. Jon had reeled in horror, but swore to tell no one
and not even tell Sansa that he knew. No wonder she’d been so cold and numb at rst, he
thought sadly, though upon further consideration he realized she would have had a great
many reasons for acting the way she did. She had more trauma in the past few years than
anyone ought to have lived through, and he momentarily wondered if it had been a wise idea
to ll Winterfell with eligible
young men that would possibly attempt to court her.
He shook his head. It was either a brilliant idea or an insanely stupid one, though he leaned
on the former. He would trust his wife’s instincts. She was rarely wrong.

The court had sent word ahead of them of their intended arrival date, only a few days more, and
Jon found himself pacing in his makeshi council chambers, shuing a stack of missals in his
hands as he pondered his decisions and orders. Daenerys had woken early that morning,
irritable and downright bitchy with him no matter what he said or did until he had calmly
dressed and slipped out of the room, leaving her with Missandei to sort it all out. He’d opted to
lunch alone at his desk while he signed and sealed his way through his neglected duties in
order to avoid her testy words and restless movements.

Thank gods Missandei had ridden ahead of the court with Grey Worm at Dany’s request, as the
closer it got to her due date the more nervous she seemed to be. Missandei’s presence was a

balm to her raw nerves and he’d watched his wife slowly settle into a calmer state of mind within
minutes of her friend’s arrival. She’d been giving him looks of sympathy for more than a few
days, so he could only imagine what Daenerys was saying about him when he wasn’t around.
He couldn’t nd it in himself to blame her though, she was enormous and unbearably
uncomfortable, the babies taking up every last inch of space inside her and still they insisted on
moving around.

He turned and dropped the parchments onto his desk as a sharp knock sounded on the door.
“Come,” he called, picking up a raven scroll.

“Your Grace,” Missandei greeted him when she opened the door. Speaking of.......She was pulling
on her coat and wrapping a scarf around her head and neck. “I’m going for Adara. Daenerys
...
it’s started, Jon,” she whispered quietly. “I’m to go and bring no attention to it.”

“Is she alone now?” he asked, throwing the scroll down and making for the door. “I’ll go get the
maester.”

“Sansa is with her for now, but she’s asking for you,” she answered, following him out of
the room and down the hallway. “She wants you.”

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” he said, stopping to protest. “She said she would rather not
have me ”
“I think it’s safe to say she’s changed her mind,” Missandei said with a small smile.
He nodded, swallowing thickly. “What do I do?” he asked. “I hadn’t prepared.....she said she’d
rather I didn’t.....”

“Maester Wolkan is already there, and I would think he could tell you if Adara doesn’t,”
she answered, pulling the scarf around one nal time and walking hurriedly down the
passage, leaving him to walk back to their private quarters alone.

He let himself in, Maester Wolkan still in the front room, a large stack of linens in front of
him. “Go in there at your own risk,” he said with a grin and the shake of his head. “A
dragon lies within that chamber, Your Grace.”

“She’s been nearly unbearable for weeks,” he answered. “Though I can hardly nd fault.” He
stopped, his hand on the handle of the door, and turned to look back at the Maester. “What am I
to do in there? She wants me but I have no idea what I’m supposed to do?”

“I have no doubt Her Grace will be able to give you very exacting instructions, Your Grace,” he
said in a low voice, that large grin still on his face. “And I do imagine it will entail you going to
some circle of the hells. She’s been saying such for an hour or more now.”

“Wonderful,” he sighed, his voice laden with sarcasm. “Just what I was looking forward to.”

Tangent Chapter 21
Last chapter for this story.

Jon was shocked at the wall of heat that greeted him when he stepped into the room. He tugged
the lacing on his leather jerkin and yanked it over his head, tossing it onto a nearby chair before

stepping around the bed to his side where Daenerys was kneeling on the oor and leaning her
forehead against the mattress, taking a slow and deep breath, Sansa looking up at him
uncomfortably from her place on the oor next to her.

“I’ve got her,” he said quietly to Sansa as he loosened the lacing on the collar of his linen shirt
and rolled up the sleeves. “You can go if you want.”

She leaned over and kissed Daenerys on the cheek, placing her hands into Jon’s before she
stood up and le quietly, closing the door behind her.

Jon knelt down next to her as she began humming out a low moan, her hands squeezing his for
a

brief moment before she let him go and took in a breath. “They’re starting to hurt,” she
whispered.

“Your knees have got to be hurting, too,” he whispered back. “You want something to kneel on,
Love? This oor is cold and hard.”

“No,” she panted out, shaking her head. “Fuck o, Jon.”

“You gonna push the babies out right here in the corner of the room on this bare, cold oor?” he
asked, wide-eyed. “I don’t think we can t Adara back here with everything she needs, either.”

Daenerys thrust her hand against his mouth, eectively shutting him up. “Stop. Talking,” she
hissed out.
FIne. He sat back on his heels and waited patiently, wondering why she just didn t get up on the
bed where it was comfortable and a damn sight warmer than the stone oor digging into her
knees. She made no sense at all.

As if she’d heard him, she straightened up on her knees and gave him a look. “Shut up,” she

snapped. She struggled to get to her feet, her belly knocking her o balance, so he caught her up
by the elbows and helped her stand. She pushed him away so she could get past him to pace at
the foot of the bed. He frowned a little, but knew she wasn’t directly angry with him, just in pain
and irritable, not unlike when she’d broken her leg.

Her steps faltered as she began to hum out again, then she was moving, pacing nervously as
he stood helplessly and watched. She pressed one hand low on her belly, cupping the
underside as she walked, stopping to press her face against the wall as she groaned out,
louder this time.

Impulsively, Jon stepped behind her and began to rub her back a little on the pressure points
where her spine met her hips, a spot he’d oen rubbed the past few months to help her sleep.
She sighed a little and he watched her shoulders drop their tension. He smiled a little, but kept
quiet as he worked, quickly moving away from her when she began to pace again to let her do
as she needed.

The door creaked slightly as Adara let herself in quietly. She gave him a quick smile in
greeting and went to work, stripping the bed and laying down a thick layer of white
linens on it, Missandei bringing water to ll the large kettle hanging near the re, both of them
nearly ignoring Daenerys for the moment as she paced and whimpered. Jon watched as
they moved about the room silently, no fuss or words between them. He felt like an
intruder almost, until Adara came up to him and beckoned him out to the front room.

“All we need to do is wait and watch for the moment,” she whispered. “Let her move and
do as she pleases for now. Be available to her, and she’ll settle into a spot when it’s time.
I’m here to help you both.”

He nodded. “She didn’t even want me here until about a half hour ago,” he whispered back.
“I’m not at all prepared ”
She shook her head at him. “Don’t worry about that for now,” she said comfortingly. “Try to help

her stay calm and as relaxed as possible. Focus on her, and we’ll do the rest,” she added
thoughtfully. “Fear makes the pain worse and can make things move more slowly.”

A mued moan came from the bedroom, and he was back to the door in an instant, letting
himself quietly back into the room and going to her side. She was standing, but bent over the
bed as she gripped the linens in tight sts. He ran his hand up her back, and she leaned into his
touch, so he took her cue and began to rub her back again.

On and on it went, Dany pacing and dgeting in between pains, withdrawing into herself when
another wave came over her. He brought her water and slowly tipped the glass on her lips aer
she’d catch her breath, stroking her arms and back when she would let him, backing o and
leaving her alone when she’d step away from him.

She began coming to him when a contraction began to build, burying her face in his chest as she
sobbed through it, sobbing about how much she hated him, but he felt nothing but relief in
being able to hold her and comfort her, whispering words of encouragement to her as it would
build, kissing her soly when it would nally ease away and she’d be limp in his arms for a brief
moment before moving away.

Daenerys had outright refused to stop moving long enough for Adara to feel the babies’
positions, and she had nearly snarled and snapped at her mid-contraction when she’d
attempted to get close to her and Jon. She’d eyed Dany’s belly as best she could, but for the
moment she respected Dany’s need to move.

Once, when he chanced a glance through the window, he was surprised to nd that it was full on
night outside. She’d been laboring since before breakfast, hours and hours ago, though she’d
repeatedly refused anything to eat, not even soup to sip at while she paced. There was no
time for him to feel tired, though, even when the grey dawn met them and she was still
pacing.

Adara pushed him out to the front room at one point to eat, and he’d hastily swallowed a few
bites of food, not even sure what he’d eaten before going immediately back to her, nding Adara
kneeling in front of Dany, her hands on her distended belly, feeling the babies positions as
Daenerys shied from one foot to the other restlessly as her womb contracted painfully.

She turned to look back at Jon and the seriousness in her eyes made his heart choke him. “We
need to move a baby up and out of the way,” she explained carefully, her tone serious. “They’re
both trying to come out at once and it’s keeping her from progressing.”

Jon nodded, swallowing thickly. “What do you need of me?” he asked.

“Hold her upright. We want the pull of the earth to help as much as we can,” Adara
answered. She looked up at Daenerys. “It will cause pain, lovely girl. It will hurt, but it won’t
be unbearable, I promise. I need for you to focus on your sweet husband for me, and we’ll
see what we can manage ” She turned Daenerys toward Jon and he wrapped his arms
around her back, holding
her up under her arms, looking into her exhausted face as Adara moved between them from
below. “Missandei, that large towel, please,” she directed quietly, Dany’s friend coming to kneel
behind Dany with a thick towel in her hands, holding it against Daenerys as Adara reached and
pushed upward on Dany’s belly, causing her to cry out and squeeze her eyes shut.

“You’re all right,” Adara said soothingly. “It’s all right. We’ll give it another try. One wants to
move out of the way for the other, so at least they’re cooperating. They want to come out
and
see their Mama.”

Jon watched as Missandei tossed the soaking wet towel aside and grabbed another, holding it
to Dany again as Adara repeated the movement, pressing one baby back to allow the other to
descend. Daenerys let out a wail and her knees buckled under her, leaving Jon to hold her
entire weight upright for a moment before Adara encouraged him to move her to the side of
the bed to kneel on the thick blanket already in place on the oor. “Things are going to pick up
fast now,” she whispered to him.

“Want up?” Jon asked Daenerys quietly. “I’ll li you if you do.”

She shook her head vigorously and squeezed her eyes shut to block him out, too exhausted to
curse at him. He turned back to look at Adara, who was busily washing her hands, dumping the
soapy water into a bucket before washing all over again. He moved out of her way when she
came to Dany’s side but Daenerys was reaching for him as she let out another low breathy wail
that built with the pain within her. Adara took his hands and placed them on her hips and had
him put pressure there, and he smiled a little when Dany sagged under his hands in relief, able
to take a deep breath.

Distracted with his task, he didn’t realize what Adara was doing between his feet, hunched
down between him and Dany, liing up Dany’s linen gown and moving it out of the way, reaching
around to press on her belly to help guide the rst baby downward and into position. Jon kept
steady pressure on her hips, focusing on his wife, holding her as she cried out louder and
longer than she’d done yet.

“Let her up if she wants,” Adara said to Jon as she backed away, and he let her go.

The morning dragged on and by noon Daenerys was unable to keep pacing, too exhausted to do
more than rock back and forth on her feet, going down on her hands and knees at times in her
attempts to manage her pains when she didn’t want Jon to hold her. Adara would periodically
feel for the babies, reassuring Daenerys that they were both withstanding the long wait, though
breathing a deep sigh of relief when Daenerys nally tore at her clothes, pulling the gown o as
she fell forward onto her hands and knees, letting out a long cry. Jon moved to hold her hands,
letting Daenerys practically crawl into his lap in her attempt to move away from the pain as
Adara checked her from behind.

“Daenerys,” she called to her. “Push against my hand, sweetling.”

Dany was shaking her head vigorously. “I can’t,” she whimpered. “I just can’t. I’ve got
nothing le.”

Adara heed Daenerys up onto her knees and turned her toward the bed, physically pushing
her to lean against the bed, pressing her cheek to the mattress. She pointed to Missandei, who
stepped forward to lay across the bed and hold Dany’s arms to keep her upright. Jon watched,
the way Missandei was barely able to hook her feet on the far edge of the bed to brace herself
would have been adorable if it had been at any other time. Adara handed Jon a blanket and
had him move slightly. “I can help you, Daenerys, but it’s going to hurt,” she warned her. “Try to
push for me when I tell you, and we’ll get at least one of them out so you can have a short rest.
Jon’s
here, he’s ready to catch. Ready?”

Jon watched helplessly as Adara grabbed Dany from behind and began to put pressure on her
belly, encouraging her to push as she did. Daenerys let out a long, drawn out wail and gripped at
Missandei, Adara breaking out into a sweat as she pressed inward and downward hard, making

Jon wince as Daenerys continued to cry out, her voice breaking on a scream as Adara let her
go in time to ease the rst baby’s head out, supporting it as she used gravity and gentle hands
to guide the baby the rest of the way out and onto the so blanket waiting below.

Jon’s head swirled and he broke out into a sweat, the blood and uid making him both terried
and numb. A quick rub at the baby’s feet and back had it twitch and begin to cry, then Adara
was quickly tying o and cutting the cord, passing the baby back to Jon, returning her focus to
Daenerys.

Stunned, Jon held the screaming and bloody baby in his hands for a blink before he could react,
looking down at the baby and grinning. “We’ve got a girl, Love,” he said, wiping her o a little
and then moving to Dany’s face so she could see the baby.

“Help her get the baby to suckle,” Adara said quickly. “It will help the second one come more
easily.”

Jon helped Dany turn to lean back against the bed, sitting back on her feet so she could rest a
little, bringing their baby girl up to her breast and holding her there so Dany didn’t have to use
any eort. The baby immediately latched on and began to suckle, and Daenerys burst into tears,
taking her from Jon, holding her, touching her head and cheeks with trembling ngers,
whispering to the baby as she nursed. Dany closed her eyes, tears streaming from her face,

simply taking a moment to breathe before opening her exhausted eyes to look down at her
newborn again.

Jon grabbed the glass of water that had been waiting on the table, holding it up to her lips so she
could drink without letting the baby go. She drained the glass, and Missandei took the empty
away, returning to Jon’s side to press a warm, wet cloth into his hand. She gestured to the baby, and
he moved in, wiping her o as best he could, kissing Daenerys on the cheek and bare shoulder as
he did, whispering to them both how much he loved them. “You got your girl,” Dany
whispered back, her voice too hoarse for use.

“Yeah, I did,” he answered, his grin not doing much to hide his tears. “Here she is, just like I
knew she’d be.”

“I thought they were both boys,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry I teased you.”

He shook his head and laughed a little, sniing and wiping his nose. “Don’t be sorry, Love. I’ve
been cryin’ like a little girl over all this. I’m pretty sure I deserved to be teased. I’ll laugh back at
you if the other one’s a girl too, though.” He couldn’t help but stare at Dany, how gorgeous she
looked, though she was tired and disheveled. Her face was glowing with warmth and she was
covered in a light sheen of sweat as she tried to catch her breath as she looked from the baby
in her arms to Jon’s face so close to hers.

“I never thought I’d have a little girl,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his for a
moment. “I remember thinking it when I was in Meereen, and how awful it made me feel
inside.
But here she is.” Dany kissed her on the cheek and touched her lovingly, glad to have a
moment to simply take her in and love her.

Jon watched as she began to grimace in pain. “Take her,” she whimpered suddenly, followed by a
gasp. Jon held the baby to her breast as Dany gripped the sideboard of the bed behind her, her
knuckles whitening as she gritted her teeth. He watched her tuck her head down to her chest,
focusing on the baby suckling at her breast as she began to push. “Come on, Love,” he
encouraged her. “You’re nearly done. One more to go, and then you can hold them both and
you can get some rest.”

It was only a few pushes, seemingly only a few minutes before Adara was pressing down on
Dany’s belly, helping her to push, talking her through it, encouraging her soly as Missandei
readied another blanket, Jon taking the baby girl and moving her out of the way so Dany could
turn her attention to the second baby, her hands reaching for it before she gave one nal push
and Adara was liing the baby up, turning it and giving it the same attention as the rst, passing
the second baby directly to Dany as soon as it cried. “A little Prince, Your Grace,” she whispered
quietly with a smile. “One of each.”
Daenerys openly sobbed as she held her son, holding him up so she could see his face, kissing
him and pressing him to her chest as they both cried. Jon eased the little girl back into Dany’s
arms, and she held them both, leaning back in relief as Missandei began to ll the tub in front of
the replace.

Maester Wolkan came forward from his chair in the corner, waiting for Daenerys to be
attended to so he could examine the babies, though Daenerys looked at him and shook her
head once.

Jon stepped in between them, wary. “She’s not ready yet. Let her feed the boy rst and let her
have a moment,” he said gently. He looked out the window. It was dark again. “She’s been at
this
for nearly two days. Let her have a minute with them.”

In the end, Missandei had taken rst the little girl, then the little boy so Jon could li Dany in his
arms and settle her into the tub. Daenerys had reached for her daughter rst, taking her from
Missandei and bathing the baby gently, propping her on her raised thighs, her little head
supported by her mother’s knees. Jon watched her, feeling a heavy sense of peace begin to
radiate through him, the tension and exhaustion in his muscles melting away as Dany took a
bit of soap and washed their little girl. “Her hair ” he whispered, pointing the ne, smooth
down

on her little head. “Look, Love. She has your hair.”

“And your frown,” Dany added in a whisper, smiling down at the baby in her lap, bringing up
one tiny foot for a kiss, then bending forward to do the same on her hands and face.
“Hello, my sweet darling. Let me tend to your brother and we’ll have some sleep.”

Adara moved to claim the clean baby, drying her carefully in front of the re before spreading a
so blanket on the low table in front of the maester’s chair. The baby cried while being
looked over, but Daenerys had the baby boy in her lap now, bathing him thoroughly, giggling a
little at
his wild hair that resembled starlight, kissing him just as she’d done his sister before passing
him o to Jon. “Oh my gods,” he exclaimed with a grin. “Tormund reborn, this one.”

“Except kissed by snow instead of re,” she jested, giving him a sideways glance.
“Something like that,” he agreed, his grin growing wider. “Hey, Son. I’m your Da.” He tucked the
boy against his chest until Adara took the girl from the maester, and Jon carefully laid the boy
down to be looked over.

Dany groaned from behind him, and he turned to look at her, Missandei pouring hot water
over her hair and neck. “Feel better, Love?” he asked.

“I don’t hate you anymore,” she answered him.

He snorted back a laugh. “Well, that’s something, anyway.”

He turned to watch Adara diaper and swaddle the baby girl, giving her to Jon before taking the
boy and doing the same. He stood in the middle of the room, a baby in each arm, Dany
soaking limply in the tub while Missandei gathered up all the soiled linens and moved them to
the outer room for another attendant to take away.

Jon watched Adara administer a few drops of dark liquid under Dany’s tongue before
recapping the bottle and leaving it on the mantle. “For the pain,” she indicated to Jon. “She’ll
need more in a few hours. This mixture won’t taint her milk like willow bark will.”

He nodded in thanks, turning his eyes back to the little ones in his arms. Emotional and
uncertain, he stood in the middle of the quietly bustling room and looked from one little face
to the other, their warm weight in his arms overwhelming him with fear and love. He looked
from girl to boy, back and forth as they slept. “Rhaeanna and Rhaegar,” Dany whispered from
the bath.

“Rhaeanna and Rhaegar,” he agreed huskily when he found his voice again. He looked at his
daughter. Rhaeanna. Rhaella and Lyanna together, he realized with a grin. He looked over at his
son, his wild silver hair neatly covered by a little lambswool hood, identical to the one on his
sister’s head. Rhaegar, the heir to the Throne.

He waited until Dany was settled in the bed before he carefully passed her each baby, giving her
time to touch and sweetly kiss them, her tears coming quickly as she held them close, pressing
their little cheeks against hers to feel their breath. He let her have those moments before he
kissed her soundly and wrapped his arms around her. He did the same to her as she’d done
to them, pressing his face to hers, breathing her in, in love with the very air around her. He
could feel the exhaustion radiating from her, so he helped ease her down into the so
pillows. She reached over and rested her hand over her babies on the bed next to her,
needing to touch them, to reassure herself they were really there, her eyes uttering closed
immediately

aerward.

It was very tempting to simply go to the other side of the bed and lay down himself, but he le
their rooms, donning his jerkin and then his boots, pulling his heavy cloak about him before he
rst went to the rookery and sent o the appropriate ravens, the chill night air promising snow
as each raven ew to its destination, each carrying the announcement of the births.

He watched the ravens disappear almost immediately in the dark night, turning on his heels
and walked from the rookery directly to the godswood to send up his gratitude and relief to
the gods. He sat on the great exposed root where Ned used to sit, staring up into the leaves of
the heart tree, thinking of all the people that had gone from the world, people he’d cared
about, wondering what they would say to him now that he was a father. He’d never know, though
he knew the advice Ned had given him as a boy growing up would be useful in teaching his
own children about the rights and wrongs of the world.

Jon had no idea how long he sat out in the godswood, staring blankly at the ice encrusted
snowdris around him before he stood from his makeshi seat, groaning at the exhaustion in his
body. There were likely piles of papers accumulating on his desk from being absent the past few
days. Perhaps it would be better to sleep a little before diving into all that, though. He already
missed them, all three of them. The ice crunched under his feet as he walked a new path, using a
back passage to get to their rooms. He walked quietly past Sansa’s quarters, then was opening his
own door, tossing o his cloak and boots before slipping into the bedchamber, nding Dany
sitting up with one baby at her breast, the other still asleep next to her.

“He doesn’t like to be wrapped up,” she murmured to Jon as he came to sit on his side of
the bed. “It took me ages to gure out why he was fussing.” He could tell by her voice that
she’d gotten at least a little rest, and it made him less concerned.
Jon looked around the room, a frown pulling at his face. “Where is everyone?” he asked.
They
shouldn’t have le her alone to gure all this out on her own.

“I sent them all away. I wanted quiet and to be alone,” she answered simply.

He stood up again, his heart sinking. “I’ll go,” he said slowly.

“Oh gods, Jon. Not you. Seven hells. You’re the one who actually belongs here with us. Sit
down,” she chastised him in a whisper. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

He shook his head. “I can’t be nearly as tired as you are,” he answered, retaking his
position on the bed.

“Shhh, just lay down and sleep,” she whispered. “It’s not a bloody competition.”

Jon nodded, laying back on the pillows and watching her feed Rhaegar. “Does that hurt?” he
asked, seeing her wince.

She shook her head. “Not what he’s doing, no,” she answered, her voice still slightly hoarse.
“It’s the rest of me that hurts.”

“Gods, I can imagine,” he whispered, reaching out and touching her soly on the cheek.
“You were so brave, Love. I’m proud of you. Oh hey,” he exclaimed as she snied, reaching
over and brushing the tear from her cheek with gentle ngers.

“I’m all right,” she whispered, leaning into his touch. “I just . . . I never thought right up until
they were born.......I didn’t really think I’d live to see them. I never thought, never allowed myself 
to hope that I’d see my own child at my breast, Jon, and I’d been nearly at peace with that before
you showed up in my life.”
“Probably sounding like a lunatic, raving about White Walkers and the dead,” he added with a
short laugh. Rhaeanna stirred soly, her little tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth.
Jon sat up and carefully picked her up from the bed, cuddling her close, smiling down at her
when she opened her eyes. “Hello there, my darling girl,” he whispered as he lied her,
bringing her face close to his so she could see him before he kissed her soly. “I’d dreamed of
you months ago and Mama laughed at me. She thought you and your brother were both
boys, but I knew

you were in there.”

Rhaeanna began to snue and fuss, and Jon looked helplessly at Dany for a moment. “Just
hold her for a minute, I’ll make room for her,” she told him, pulling down the other side of her
gown. She tugged a pillow down and shied Rhaegar in her arms so his little body was tucked
against her side, then Jon helped her do the same on the opposite side, helping to hold
Rhaeanna against Dany until she’d found what she’d been wanting, calming down with a sigh
and a suckle.

“Before I pass out, do you need anything?” he asked.

“Water, please,” she asked. “I’m terribly thirsty. Could you drop some of those drops in the water

for me, too?”

“Of course,” he answered, straightening up and attending to her glass as requested. “How bad is
it?” he asked, bringing her the prepared water. “Really.”

She shook her head as she drank. “It comes and goes,” she answered evasively. “It’s not
terrible, but it’s nice to have something to take for it.” She upended the glass and then
sighed. “Thank you. That’s much better.”

“So it really fuckin hurts, then,” he said, taking the glass from her and relling with with plain
water before putting it down on the low table next to her side of the bed, within easy reach
for her in case he wasn’t awake when she needed more.
She shrugged. “Nothing like a few hours ago,” she answered nally, dismissing his concern.
“Here, he’s done.” She oered him Rhaegar, and Jon quickly gathered him up. “Pat him on the
back for a minute, it’ll help his milk settle and then he’ll sleep for a bit.”

Aer doing as Dany had requested, he turned the baby over into the crook of his arm and traced
one tiny hand with a nger. “You’re so small, Son,” he whispered. “How does someone so small
take up so much room in my heart?” He looked up at Daenerys, feeling the burn of tears for

what felt like the hundredth time that day. “You made babies, Daenerys.” Once he’d uttered
the words, he felt like an idiot, but she was smiling at him, at his wonder.

She laughed a little, then turned her attention back to Rhaeanna. “Caught on to that, did
you?” she jested, then added quietly. “You helped.”

“Yeah, but I only got to do the fun part,” he protested.

Dany laughed a little, shaking her head. “Oh, don’t talk to me about any sort of fun involving my
body right now, Jon. We need a break from fun.”

“I saw both babies born, Love. I imagine having me anywhere near you right now isn’t exactly
enticing. I’m surprised you hadn’t threatened to geld me,” he said, only half serious.

“I’d never do that,” she assured him. “But I do want you to hold me.”

“But keep the cock away for a bit,” he added, grinning at her.

“Exactly.”

He turned serious as he came to her, holding her around the shoulders so he wouldn’t
disturb Rhaeanna, kissing Dany soly on the temple. “You tell me when you’re ready, and
not a moment before. Promise?”
She nodded. “I promise,” she whispered back. “Come, lay down and get some sleep with us. If
you lay with Rhaegar on your chest, he’ll likely sleep better.” She reached over and tossed the

light woolen blanket that he’d been swaddled in to Jon.

He picked it up and settled on the bed, easing his son down to lay on his chest and covered him

with the blanket. “Your Aunt Sansa made this for you,” he whispered to the sleeping baby. “She’s
probably pacing in her room, waiting to see you.”

“We’ll sleep for a bit rst,” Dany said, disengaging a sleeping Rhaeanna from her breast. “Then
we’ll have the family come in to see them. Family only, then maybe tomorrow we’ll have
more people in.”

“It’s good plan,” he murmured sleepily. “I like it when how you do that.”

“Dear gods, you’re going delirious, Jon. Sleep,” she laughed. She put Rhaeanna down next to his
arm before sliding down into the bed and getting comfortable before drawing their daughter

closer again.

“You rst,” he answered, barely able to hear her but wanting the last word all the same.

He woke to Adara’s laugh in the front room, late aernoon sun pouring itself weakly through the
window. He could see white, ominous clouds broiling beyond the blue skies, and he knew it
would bring a blizzard by nightfall. Thank the gods the babies are already here.

He looked over at Dany, still asleep next to him. Rhaeanna had been unswaddled and slept
soundly on Daenerys, her tiny feet tucked up under her so her little rump was sticking up
under the blanket. He looked down at Rhaegar, who had somehow folded himself in half, his
feet pressing against his belly, one hand up over his face. Jon brought his hand up to touch his
son’s unruly hair, chuckling to himself. “Little wild man,” he whispered. “Tormund’s going to have
a laugh at that mop of yours. Come on, let’s go see what’s so funny out there.”
Holding Rhaegar snugly against his chest, he rolled to his side and sat up on the edge of the
bed,
rubbing his face with his free hand. “I needed that. Thanks for letting Mama and Da have a
rest,” he whispered, kissing the baby on top of his little head. He stood up and went to the
door, not caring about his disheveled appearance.

Sansa and Adara were chatting by the re, and didn’t notice him until he cleared his throat.
“Aunt Sansa, come say hello to your nephew,” he said quietly, smiling at his sister as he carefully
passed the bundled and sleeping baby to her. He looked to Adara. “Daenerys is still sleeping.”

“We’ve been checking in on you about once every hour,” Adara answered him, nodding. “It
might be time to wake her soon so the babies can eat.”

As if on cue, Rhaegar moved restlessly in Sansa’s arms. Jon could hear him snuing and
clicking his tongue, turning his head back and forth in search of Dany’s breast. “He wants
food,” he said quietly. “Sorry. Empty bellies need lling rst.”

Missandei came out of her small room and took Rhaegar from Sansa before Jon could. “He
needs a change, too,” she said soly. “Come on, my sweet Prince.”

Jon shrugged and grinned at Sansa. “You see his hair? He’s got the best Wildling hair I’ve
ever seen. Rhaeanna’s is all neat and proper, but his ”

“He looks like one of those little elings that Old Nan described in her stories,” she murmured.
“Wild hair and sweet faces, but erce with lances and arrows.”

Jon laughed. “Gods, I feel like I can breathe again,” he said, sitting down in a chair.

“It’s been a tense few weeks,” Sansa agreed, seating herself next to him. “Lord Connington sent
a raven. He’s travelling North with the rest of the bannermen of the Stormlands. He said they
hope to meet with Lady Tarly’s envoys on the way. They’re bringing provisions from The Reach to
help with any depletions with the incoming guests and court.”
“Good of them,” he remarked, staring at the re. He heard a baby cry, Rhaeanna, and he was on
his feet, bolting to the door, not caring the least about the laugh that came from his sister
behind him. He le the door open for her in invitation, but quickly came to the side of the
bed to see what the fuss was about. Missandei was simply changing her and tying a little
lambswool

dress around her to help keep her warm, but Rhaeanna was having none of it.

“Imagine how it must feel to wear clothes for the rst time,” she said in her so, sweet voice. “It
must be an odd feeling indeed, my Princess. Sadly, the outside world isn’t as warm and
comfortable as being inside your mother.”

Sansa stepped into the doorway. “May I come in?” she asked quietly.

“Yes please,” Dany assured her, reaching her hand out in welcome. “I’m glad to see you.” She
gestured to the bed. “Come and sit if you like. Rhaeanna has already fed if you want to hold her.”

“I do,” Sansa answered, reaching out and tucking the baby into her arms. “She’s so
perfect,” she whispered. “Hello, my Princess,” she whispered. “We nally meet face to face. I’m
the one who was always poking at you to kick me. Oh goodness, you have your father’s
frown.”

“Rhaegar does, too,” Dany said, laughing a little and leaning against Jon as he bent over to
kiss her.

“A whole family of brooders,” Sansa sighed. “May you have mercy on the realm.”

Rhaegar and Rhaeanna Targaryen, ladies and gents. Though they didn’t actually weigh the
babies, in my mind they were each roughly around 6 lbs, 18/19 inches long?? Big and
healthy
 for twins I foresee no health issues for either child, and they’ll live happily well
into adulthood.
 All is well. I’m taking a break from writing for a bit, I’ll make this into a series so you can
watch the twins grow a bit, and I will be opening up my Tumbler for prompts in a week or
so.

Together, we’ll make some more Jonerys magic happen for this amazing fandom. Much love
to you all and thank you so very much for all your kind and supportive comments.