Warm

Winter had never been this cruel, Jon concluded as he recalled every season at top of The Wall and beyond it. He remembered the outstanding chill of his every step in the True North and the way it forged him different until he didn’t felt the cold anymore.

Not until now, at least.

Perhaps it wasn’t just the weather, he realized as he walked pass soldiers and curious faces, Ghost at his side like he has been ever since he returned home. They went down Winterfell, searching for answers again.

Three days had passed since Bran told him his true origin, and just two had gone by after he had called up his bannermen and Daenery’s armies to prepare a plan and get ready, for the Dead were marching from Eastwatch, Tormund on his way back with the very few men left, and the world seeming to come to an end.

He had felt her stare on him during the whole reunion, everyone seeming to mind the way he had refused to look at her more than necessary. It wasn’t his intention to be a show for anyone, the few that know his birth-name and birthright should remind as much, and he was— he wasn’t ready to face the rest of it.

Down in the crypts was silent, somehow warmer than the rest of the halls, and there he could rest his mind and hide from whoever wanted to approache him. Or that was the intention today, until soft steps and whispers stopped his walking towards Aunt Lyanna’s —his mother’s— crypt.

“That’s her.” He heard Bran’s monotone voice. “Aunt Lyanna.”

Whoever he was talking to stepped in, walked slowly, probably to watch her statue closer. “She’s beautiful.” Said Daenerys’s voice and Jon swallowed, wanting to turn around and leave, but his feet didn’t respond. Ghost sat down at his side, looking up, like encouraging him to walk over and be part of whatever Bran and Da—

“My Lord Father used to say, I was like his sister.” Arya said, and Jon blinked a couple of times. Could it be his blood calling his mother, that he and Arya would had grown so close since she had been just a babe?

“Indeed.” There was a smile in Daenerys’s voice and Jon sighed realizing how well he has come to know her voice. If he had been seeing her, he may recognize what she was feeling, maybe even what she was thinking. “Beautiful, definitely.”

Arya giggled. The sound made his heart beat faster. She had always been a friendly girl, and the thought of she growing into a friendly woman made him happy. Bran had changed so much, he was barely recognizable from the little kid that had trained with them before, and Sansa had to grow too much from her age in order to survive.

His little sister had changed, too. None of them would ever be the same, but it was a relief to know Arya’s good heart reminded.

“You just say that because I look like Jon.” Arya joked, Daenerys’s laugh echoed in the crypts and Jon waited.

“Was Lady Lyanna like this, too?” She asked, probably to Bran. “Did she not accept a compliment?”

“She did.” Bran answered. “It’s just that Arya has a point.”

“Oh!” Daenerys exclaimed, Arya laughed louder. “And I thought you did not had a sense of humor.”

“Is it humor when it’s true?” He insisted. “Perhaps yes, since I agree with your Grace. You are beautiful, Arya. You’ve become a beautiful Lady.”

“And you as charming as our brother.” She bit back, it almost sounded like their banters from when they were younger and Arya would beat Bran at archery.

They went silent then, and Jon turned over, ready to leave and left them to their conversation. Ghost didn’t move with him, he stayed put as if waiting for him to change his mind and stop hiding. His red eyes looked right into his and he swallowed, his companion always seemed to know what was going trough his mind, even if he couldn’t voice it as people would.

“This is our Father.” He heard Arya and Jon swallowed, silently walking to Ghost who moved his tail before standing and walking at his side. “What do you think?” She murmured.

“I...” Daenerys didn’t say more.

Jon licked his lips as his steps got him closer to them, Arya looked back first, hands on her back, and smiled softly when she saw his face. Bran and Daenerys looked then, his expression was vacant and hers curious, a bit surprised.

“You made no sound...” Murmured the Queen, Arya shook her head.

“He’s been creeping on us for minutes. Glad to know you decided to join us at least.”

“I’m sorry—“

“Come with me?” Arya asked Bran, he only nodded. “Dine with us later, Jon.” She said, pushing Bran in front of her. “You can’t hide forever.”

His chest felt heavy, “Arya.”, every beat of his heart hurt as she turned around and waited.

Jon didn’t had any words left, hadn’t know what to say since he heard the truth from Bran, so he walked to his little sister —cousin, family she was— and kissed her forehead.

Bran had tried to assured him he was still Jon, “you are who you are”, he had said with no expression. This time, when Jon looked at him, his eyes weren’t so dead and Jon wished he could smile again. Bran had been the sweetest kid, always happy and with an easy laugh, and he had suddenly become more than a man, even if so young still.

“I’ll see you later.” He decided, one hand on Bran’s head. He could swear he almost saw his brother smile.

Arya nodded to him and turned to Daenerys. “You too, you should keep dining with us. It’s fun to see someone make Sansa act like Mother.”

“Arya...” Daenerys murmured, amusement trapped in her voice. “Thank you. To both of you.” She said.

Bran shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He answered and Arya nodded to her before going back to push Bran out the crypts. “Can you take me to the Godswood?”

“Of course...”

Their voices died as they got farter and Jon looked at Daenerys from the corner of his eyes. She didn’t mind him, probably angry at him for ignoring her for three days straight after they had shared most nights coming here. He’ll be frustrated, too, and he hoped to find it in him to explain himself.

“Oh, hello.” He heard her saying. When he looked around, she was leaning down towards Ghost. “You’re beautiful!”

It didn’t occur to him he hadn’t had time to introduce the two of them since Bran had delivered news after news, and his happiness of seeing his siblings alive and well only lasted as much. He and Daenerys hadn’t been alone in as long, and Ghost had been glued to his side since he stormed to his chambers to be by himself after Bran and Sam’s story.

She looked content while stroking Ghost’s fur as the wolf moved his tail, like a happy dog. The fact that she hadn’t been scared of him at all was endearing to him and Jon wondered if this is how she had felt when Drogon had let him touch his snout.

“His name is Ghost.” He finally said, his voice sounding like a whisper, like if he hadn’t use it in days. And in a way, maybe he hadn’t; maybe he had started talking different to her and only now he had noticed. “He seems to like you.”

“What?” She looked up with a big smile. “He usually doesn’t like people? Hard to believe, look at him...” Ghost was melting into her touch and he smiled, she was using both her hands to pet him now. “I’ve never seen a wolf so big before. When you mentioned him, I thought him a small animal like any other.”

“He’s a direwolf.” Jon explained. “There were six of them, we found them years ago when they were just pups. One for each Stark kid.” He sighed, the memory now bittersweet for what and who was gone. “Ghost was the smaller one, weaker. Now is the only one.”

She looked up at him, then back at Ghost before standing and facing him with a firm face, waiting for him to say something else, to talk to her. Jon opened his mouth, although he didn’t had anything to say, and then closed it, eyes lowering to her hands.

“I’m sorry I interrupted.” He said. She offered him her hands and Jon put his over hers. “I see you and Arya have got used to each other.”

“She’s fantastic.” Daenerys answered, her voice so sweet. “Very curious, too. She has become good company.” Her thump caressed over his globed hand and Jon smiled after hearing that. “She’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

“Well--” His smile widened. “I shouldn’t, but I guess yes.”

“It doesn’t mean you love them any less.” She assured and he wondered if she was talking about this particular subject only. For the way Daenerys was looking at him when he finally glanced at her, he figured not. “They have been kind to me.”

“I’m glad...” He swallowed. “I’m so sorry I haven’t...”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, too.”

Jon frowned at that. “For what? I’m the one that ran, I—“

“Yes, but I let you go.” She guided his hands up to her, he could feel the warm of her breath as she talked. “I thought so many things I can’t speak of now, and none was fair. I know you, and I doubted you for a second too long. I’m sorry.” Her lips touched his fist, kissing it softly and making his stomach drop.

“I needed to be alone.” He insisted. “None it’s your fault, It’s… It’s been difficult to digest. I didn’t thought of what you may be feeling, I’m sorry.”

Daenerys smiled at him, letting go of his hands that quickly landed on her waist. Gods, he had missed her, all of her. The warm of her body, her perfume, her rare smiles, her laugh. She smiled, her whole face brightening.

“Are we going to be trapped in a circle of feeling sorry? Seeing who can apologize for this mess the most?”

Even if for a moment he questioned what was between them, she didn’t felt any different in his arms and he couldn’t see her as anything else but Dany, the woman whose neck was sensitive and laughed easily if kissed on her belly, whose small feet he had kissed to her own surprise, who had kissed every scar on his body in return.

Jon shook his head and she sighed, part in relief. Licking her bottom lip, she lowered her eyes to his chest and her hand soon landed where his heart beat.

“You want me any less?” She asked in a thin voice, he didn’t like the sound of it.

“Never.” He answered after shaking his head. “Do you? Even knowing who fathered me and what claim I could have?”

By all means, he wasn’t hungry for any title. But he knew what importance the throne had in her plans, and while he didn’t doubt her commitment to save the realm from the death, there was still the chance he could represent an obstacle she deserved to know did not exist. He would never claim that throne, not for his own interest or desire.

Daenerys looked at him, there was a spark of disappointment in her eyes and he squeezed her waist, like trying to make her understand, to make her see the truth in his face. He just needed to know if it was somehow a problem to her.

“Is there a part of you that wants the throne? I don’t believe you.” She said instead. “Regardless of what I know from your mouth, I’ve seen your heart. I doubt that’s something you’d want.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She opened her mouth, then closed it. “But, aye. You are right.”

It was her who shook her head now. “You should want it, anyone would. Yet you don’t, you are not like any man I’ve ever known.” Her hands warmed his chest, caressing up and down slowly without looking at his face. “Which is why I’ve grow to love you...” She said in a murmur.

He grabbed her hands from his chest, making her look up to his face again and he hoped she would see everything she made him feel that he thought would never be for him. Ever since coming back, he had wanted every moment of him to be of use and her love was one of the very few things he wanted for himself, not for anyone else but him to deserve and enjoy.

If any doubts creep on them, Jon wanted to erase it from her mind and claim her heart as she was offering with her words. So he kissed her, his arms rounded her waist as hers rounded his neck and Ghost’s pads sounded far away.

Jon had missed her lips, their moments alone. He shouldn’t had ignored her, but now he knew he didn’t want to let go ever again. If somehow he had been allowed to live again and found her when she had been on the other side of the sea, then he wasn’t wasting any second again.

Whatever it cost, he’ll pay any prize.

His mouth opened over hers, tenderly kissing his way in, her tongue recognizing him and allowing the exploration. She had told him a good kisser, and Jon had never thought of him as a man of ego, but every time she wore his arms and talked of his skills with delight, all of him felt full of power.

When they pulled apart, Jon rested his forehead against hers, eyes still closed, chest going up and down. Her hands returned to caress his chest and his lips went for a kiss, two, and one more before she talked again.

“You’ll rule with me.”

What case was in say otherwise? He looked into her eyes, knowing he wouldn’t renounce to her, nor see her married to another man. Jon nodded and her smile widened for a second, she swallowed visibly and he moved one of his hands to her cheek, thumb caressing her skin.

“I can’t give you children...” She reminded him, Jon couldn’t help but smile. “Jon, I mean it.”

He cradle her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “Have you ever hear the way you say my name?”

“What?”

“You make it sound important.” He closed his eyes and smiled, when he looked at her again she seemed confused. “I’ll rule with you.” He said, she swallowed again but never took her eyes off him. “We’ll survive this war and I’ll march south with you, whatever is necessary.” Daenerys looked around his face, stopping once more on his eyes, probably searching for doubt. But there was none in him now. “And you shouldn’t be so sure about what that witch said.”

“Jon...”

“It hasn’t been long yet.” He reminded her, she gave him a weak smile. “We’ll have plenty of time.”

She looked down for a second, then back at him with small smile, this time real, a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes. That was enough for him for the time being. Even if they never make a daughter or a son, his place was at her side for he wanted her, not the prospect of giving a heir.

Jon hoped she felt the same, although he knew she was a mother. It would make him happy to be the one to father her blood children, in spite of every enemy, prophecy or witch.

Her eyes left his face and looked at his back, she smiled slightly and broke their embrace to walk in front.

“Even in stone, she’s beautiful.” She said and Jon looked up to Lyanna Stark’s grave. His mother. “You are all her.”

Which wasn’t wrong. He and Arya were the ones closer to Father’s looks, Arya always reminding him of his lost sister. Jon thought of his mother like he had since he was a kid, and this time, he had a name and a face in the stone, but the image of Arya’s smile and Eddard Stark’s soft eyes.

“I’ve been so confused.” He rounded Daenerys’s waist from behind, her back against his chest. “I used to dream of her, when I was a kid. Always highborn… beautiful and kind. Seems like I wasn’t so lost.” She leaned into his chest, her hands over his as she sighed. “Makes me wonder… what would she think of me now, had she lived long enough to be here?”

“She’d love you.” Daenerys answered. “What a man you are, so humble and yet fierce. She’d be proud of you.”

He said nothing, trying to imagine what his mother’s voice sounded like and if her eyes sparkled with mischief while messing up her dress and hair like Arya’s did. It still made him uneasy that he would never know, no matter what Bran had offered to say from his visions. Jon hide his face on Daenerys’s neck and shoulder and he heard her laugh before her fingers touched his hair.

“You’re warm.” She said with a soft sigh. “I’ve missed you at night.”

He chuckled in her neck and kissed a spot with a noisy motion. “I thought you said you were a dragon, therefore the winter wouldn’t touch you.”

“The north is true to its sayings, I’ve never felt a cold like this.” She sighed and moved her head to face him. Jon pecked her lips before she could keep talking. “Dine with us tonight, then come to me.”

“Of course.” He kissed her again and this time parted from her when she started to laugh, he tried to give her his best indignant stare. “We shouldn’t… we shouldn’t be talking of such things in here.”

“Oh.” He looked up at his father behind him and then to his mother in front and nodded, leaving her to walk away from him. She took his hand then and waited. “I’ll be there.”

“You better.” She said, tugging at his hand so he would walk at her side. “Let’s allow us at least tonight, tomorrow we’ll be closer to war.”

She glanced one last time to his mother’s stone and then smirked up at him, Jon could see Ghost waiting for them at the entrance.

“So, I heard interesting stories from your sister.” She said. “Like how you would struggle with dancing and pretend to forget you had lessons with your brother.”

“Gods be good...”

“Jon Snow, are you bad at dancing?”

He sighed, Ghost stood and shook his large body before yawning. “Ghost, to me.” And the wolf ran to his side, Daenerys laughed at the other, waiting for his answer. “I make up for that in other things.”

“Such as…?”

He smirked at her, having to let go of her hand for they were about to face the rest of Winterfell. “I’ve been told I got a wicked tongue.”

Daenerys’s cheeks went pink and she shook her head with smile on her face, but didn’t fight him on that either.

Marked

Bastards are born without a mark, that Westeros thought. But Jon Snow was sure it wasn’t truth for he had been born with a mark that slowly became darker, letting see the house his destined person belonged to.

He knew of noble and recognized people with no marks, too. Sansa did not have a mark and she was no bastard, just like Bran didn’t had one and was no Snow. His Aunt Lyanna had been born without mark, no bastard either, and loved by everyone that still mourned her premature death.

So his mark was proof of nothing. He was still a Snow and would die one, and always alone for his mark was long dead and has been pointed out before it was fitting for him, to be marked with the three head dragon of the Targaryen house, for nothing was for him and no one will be.

Lord Father convinced him to not care for the mark, it was no indicator of nobility or happiness, just a guide. An option. While his sister Sansa resented him and Arya for their marks, Bran did not care, and Robb was not sure what his meant. Rickon had been too little to have recognition of his, but he had one, too.

And so, he decided to wear black and renounce to The Mark.

**

All princesses are born with a mark, included Daenerys Stormborn.

Her brother Viserys had told her all about them, they were marks that displayed her future Prince, a person who would wed her and father her children. She had been given birth with a blurry brownish stain between her legs, on her left thigh where no one but her Lord Husband would see it one day.

Viserys had told her his mark was special for it was the Targaryen sigil and it meant he was made to rule. She had listened to all of it, that bastards don’t get mark and those who are recognized and don’t have one, are destined to die at young age and she worried for the other children without marks she knew.

As she grow older, the stain started to take form, becoming darker and part of her skin, like engraved by an expert artist until her brother had opened her legs to see it.

“Stupid girl!” Was the first time he lay a hand on her and he never stopped ever since.

Daenerys didn’t understand why her brother had wanted to know her mark, it was supposed to be private and only for her husband to see. But he had became rage and fire the second he saw, and so she looked at it after he had left her warm and red in their refuge.

“No...” And she finally saw.

She saw the sigil of the usurper’s dogs, a wolf howling in her skin. How could life want her with the monsters that had destroyed her family? Was she made to be in pain, to be taken and defiled by Westeros forever? All she ever wanted was to go home.

To go home, wherever that red door was now.

**

In The Wall most men had no mark and Jon decided to hide his own, having a new life between brothers that dressed the same as him and responded to the same honor. It had costed him to get used to the great difference between the warm furs of his bed in Winterfell and how he got to sleep in here, but he wouldn’t change it, he didn’t wanted to.

So, he won’t have a mark.

“But you have one.” Sam insisted as they cleaned the tables, Jon shook his head. “You know what I would give to have one?”

“Why do you want one?” He asked. The mark had only brought more cruel jokes his way than anything, and the more he thought of it, the less he liked the concept of it. “It’s just… why would you want your entire life to be dictated by something so insignificant?”

“Well...” Sam had stopped cleaning, looking up as if thinking his answer. “It’s just-- It must be nice to know there may be someone for you at some point.” He smiled at him and Jon shook his head again. “Think about it a bit. You don’t have to make your life all about it, but it’s nice… you know, to know.”

Jon blinked a couple of times. The last person to know what his mark was had been his Father’s wife and she had offered the only explanation of it, that he did not have anyone at the end, for all people but one too old and marked differently were left of House Targaryen.

If he said word to Samwell Tarly about it, would his friend finally see the marks may not mean as much as people want them to? Would he stop all talk about it with him? Sam liked to talk, that and to read where the things he was best at, and Jon wouldn’t deprive him from one of the only two things he has left.

He stayed silent, until his friend asked to know what his mark was. Was it a great house? Or a minor one? An unknown symbol or words for very few people? Jon had always carry the sigil of his family’s enemy on his chest, there where anyone could see. How he managed to maintain it away from his brothers, he was not sure.

“It’s the Targaryen Sigil.” He said.

Sam stood quiet, big eyes wide open and his mouth in a O. It almost made him smile if not for the bittersweet flavor in his tongue. He kept his work and soon saw Sam joining him at least.

“It can’t be.” Sam said. “Are you sure of it?”

“I think I can recognize a three head dragon, Sam.”

“Uhm...” He seemed deep in thought, then looked at him again. “Have you heard what Maester Aemon had said?”

“He says a lot of things, Sam.”

“Yes, but he has talked of family at the other side of the sea.”

Jon chuckle, Sam had some imagination. “So what? Sam, we renounced to all that.” He sighed. “Even if that House was still standing today, there’s no one out there for me.”

“You are right.” His friend said after a long pause.

**

“It may mean you are destined to fight this man forever.” The witch had said before she entered the tend to heal her husband. “People are not only destined to love, they are destined to kill, to hate, to breed, and to so much more. It may your greatest enemy, your love lies here.”

He had been, and he was long gone. All those she had loved were gone, Drogo, Rheago, Viserys even. He had been cruel to her ever since the House Stark Sigil had cleared in her skin, but he had been still her brother, the only family she ever knew.

At night, when she was alone and dreamed of home, she would see him, younger and happier. He used to smile at her and pick up lemons that would fall from the tree outside her window, they would enter the house in hurry, to the kitchen where the cook would use them to make savored water. Those were happy times, somehow.

They never had money, their protectors could do so much for them. Viserys had to sell their Lady Mother’s crown and that was the end of her happy days. It was like if by renouncing to that jewel, they had renounced to the past she never knew, and ever since, they were alone.

Maybe that was why he had been so mad at her when he saw the mark, because he didn’t knew what she has been told now. He probably thought life wanted her to wed a traitor and not to fight him, as she would for now on until what was hers was returned and she could free her people from the wheel that kept them in suffering.

Viserys was no king, his mark was his grave for he had died a sad prince of the Targaryen. She and her dragon would be all he never was, Dany decided as she feed her Viserion. Her dragons would help her win every war she’ll had to endure in order to take back what was hers.

And she will fight forever the traitors if necessary. Her mark was one of war.

**

Ygritte had no mark.

Her warm body was filled with freckles and scars alike, her hair kissed by fire made her shine between snow and fire as they lied together to maintain their bodies away from the cold.

She had seen his mark and mocked it, speaking of how marks meant nothing to her people but weakness. No one belonged to anyone and those that coupled were each other’s choices, he find it better that way for his heart had chose her and wouldn’t let the ghost of a false future intervene between them.

Jon knew what was coming for them, that they would no last as he had a mission of his own and an oath to his people. She would never understand such things, but he hoped she would understand that his heart was hers, even if he would stay awake at night, feeling all alone as he always did since he knew the name of the emptiness inside him.

That was what he believed, at least. He fired her apart from the other fallen ones, her hair as precious as the flames around her, keeping her away from the Night’s King.

He wished he could dream of her, but he knew he wouldn’t. He dreamed he was Ghost, the white wolf running in the woods alone, eyes fixated on the moon, like if he wanted to reach her. She would look down at him and call, “come to me”, and he would run faster.

But he never reached her, she cried for him to come, and he never did.

“Ghost...” He said with his last breathe.

The moon was hovering full in the sky, stars her tears and cold his only company.

**

Dany dreamed of a young lover every now and then, always covered in shadows but more real than her actual lover, peacefully sleeping in her bed.

She looked at him, deciding if waking him up would be worth it. He was a good lover, better than other she has taken, but nothing else. She wanted to love Daario, had made herself believe she could, but Daenerys had long ago realized there was no such thing as to love one for you are no equal.

He had no mark, while Drogo had her mark at the bottom of his back, where his long braid had reached once. He had thought her that even the most powerful and loved of men could fall, and she was not going to do as well. Not today, not tomorrow. She had fight to win.

Standing, she put on her silk robe and walked away from the bed, hoping the fresh air of the night would clear her thoughts. Daenerys knew she had to left her lover behind and she felt nothing, the closer it got to that moment, the surer she was that Daario had mean nothing but warm sheets in the big picture.

It made her feel sad. Was she supposed to be ice? She was the blood of the dragon, her touch burned and her realm would prosper from the ashed of the old world; and yet her heart seemed stopped by the conditions of her past, and there was only place for her people, her friends and her children.

Maybe that was her only love, maybe she’ll be fine with that. Maybe the lover in her dreams would remind only her mind.

**

Winterfell had been home for a long time, he still thought of its walls and hallways as such. Even in the worst of the days, he had a childhood and siblings in it, a Father that listened to him and tried to make the best for him in his possibilities. And while he had been constantly reminded of his name, he had been seen as nothing but Stark and he always wished to be one.

He was no Stark still but called My King and Your Grace, and all those things people won’t call a bastard in normal settings. But he guessed, as he walked around the great salon, touching the cold wood and dusty places he had learned as a child, terrible circumstances called for extraordinary possibilities.

“I never apologizes for my behavior before,” Sansa started after a long silence as they stayed alone, sitting on the salon when everyone had left, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t knew better.”

“You were only a child.”

“I was a spoiled, stupid girl.” She said, Jon looked at her and saw that vacant expression she so often wore nowadays.

Sansa wore winter in her eyes, in her lips, her words, her globed hands, he perpetual serious face. The girl made of summer was long gone. She no longer begged the Gods for a mark and a prince that would father her beautiful princesses and princes, maybe she didn’t even believe anymore.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Was all he could offer. “But thank you, little sister.”

He never called her that before, the only little sister he knew before had been Arya. But now, they were the only ones. They had each other. Sansa looked at him, no smile, no shine in her eyes, but there were unshed tears in them and Jon swallowed.

“Don’t call me that, Jon.” She asked, sounding like a plea. “That’s Arya.”

Both wished she would be there, that a lot of people could be there. But they were the only ones now. Winterfell belonged to her and the North responded to his command. None had wanted this, but here they stood.

She took his hand, she often did when she thought she was losing him to the dark thoughts inside his head, and this time he didn’t felt strange nor irritated by it. They didn’t say a word again, and slowly went to their own thoughts.

The dead were walking to them, menacing on taking all they fought for. He could had become one of them but, somehow, his time had been restored even carrying the proof of his end.

Involuntary, his free hand went to his chest, were the mark of his Destined One was.

Ever since the mark had became clear, he never believed in it. He knew Sansa used to believe, hoping to find the one that would carry the Stark Sigil in his body that would belong to her morrows. She was looking at him now, observing the way he had touched where the mark still stood, even with the scar irrupting in its territory.

“Your mark...” She murmured. “I used to think it was strange, I still do.” Sansa said, her honesty didn’t come as a surprise. Everyone who knew about the three headed dragon thought so, included him. “I never asked you, but always wanted to...”

“What is it?”

She squeezed his hand and Jon looked at her, waiting. “Does it bothers you?” She said so low, he wouldn’t had hear her if they weren’t sitting side by side. “The mark of the dragon. It’s almost cruel to give you a mark of someone that may pretty much not exist. Why would-- why would the Gods allow it? You think it’s strange?”

“All marks are strange and a little unfair.” He answered, she tilted her head. “I don’t think it’s fair, the marks. Why wouldn’t you chose the one to love?”

“Well, in your case I guess you can chose.” She said, her eyebrows had moved high. “We, on the other hand, we have no many choices. Not most of us does, at least.” She looked away, and Jon understood her meaning. He swallowed, not knowing how he could assure his sister that she was safe now, she was free to do as she wished with her life for now on. “So, it bothers you?”

“I don’t believe in it.”

“Yet, it’s still in its place. Right?”

Jon blinked a couple of times, Sansa was smiling sightly. Maybe a part of her still believed. But who could deserve his sister? It made no sense.

“Aye, it does.” He answered, for both her questions. She seemed to understand.

**

Dragonston was covered in dust and gray clouds, even if the sun shone bright when they first arrived. Her children had settle better than all of them, her dothraki almost all sick from the sea and her small council unsure of how to proceed until she called table of all them, having Tyrion present their next move.

Her Hand was a wise man and good company. Dany had learned a lot from him, about Westeros and its remaining Lords, and his mad sister, the usurper queen. She understood his plays, she could not fly by and burn all to get what she wanted, it would make her no less than Cersei and she was here to be so much more, to be the hope this people longed.

No more orphaned children, raped women, stolen lives and starvation. No more blood once she sat on the throne, no more war, just work for peace. Peace for all people. That’s all she wanted.

“Tell me about this Jon Snow.” She told Tyrion as they sat alone in the war room once their Red Priestess guest had been settle in chambers of her own. “Is he as the red witch says?”

“I’ve hear of his accomplishments from her and Lord Varys’s birds, seems to be all true.” He answered. “He joined the Watch years ago, was a stupid boy trying to find his place in the world. Of course he would become king.”

There was a smile in Tyrion’s lips and eyes, whoever Jon Snow was, was someone he remembered with warm. He was a funny man, a good friend. But his smiles were strange, at least the genuine ones. All of them wore better a serious frown and respectful nods. It seemed like there was no time for friends and laughs, but this King In The North had brought a smile to her Hand.

“But he is no Stark.” She said, it was supposed to be a question but it also wasn’t quit so. Dany needed to be assured. “He is the last?”

“His sister, Sansa, is still alive, too.” He answered, finally looking at her. “You won’t tell me you mistrust my judgment now, after how far you have gotten. Their father may have fought against yours, but they will not be your enemy.”

“You appreciate them.” She assured, he only nodded. “So then tell me about them. If you appreciate them, they must be something. Make me see them differently from their father.”

Tyrion sighed, she found it entertaining to frustrate him a bit. He was exactly how she wished a brother would be. “I’ve told you all I know about Jon Snow, your Grace. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“Then tell me about Lady Sansa.”

He moved on his seat, sightly uncomfortable and something sparked inside her. “I would prefer not to. All you need to know is that she’s smarter than she looks. She has probably grow to be a beautiful and strong woman, too. You’ll like her.”

Dany nodded at that, taking a sip of her wine. “And would she like me?”

“Well, the last time we saw each other, she had plenty of trust issues, all justified. If all I heard about what she has gone trough is true, she may have her reservations at first.” He made a pause to drink of his own wine, then looked at her. “You’ll see them for yourself, I’m sure. But they are good people.”

“She is the one you were married to, isn’t she?” She asked, the hint of a smile could be heard in her voice.

“Gods...” He drank some more and she couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “She was, the poor thing.”

Dany tilted her head with a smirk. “Did you loved her?”

“No...” He answered, his hand was moving his cup and she wondered how much of this was true and how much was a lie. “She was only a child and I loved another at the time.” He drank the rest of the wine in one, long, gulp and Daenerys sighed, disappointed at how quick they had gone back to betrayals and old sad stories. “All I wanted was to protect her. No one in that nest of rats city would do so, and by having my name, she was a prisoner of my father and sister, and my nephew.” He explained. “But they wouldn’t touch her, as long as I was there… or that was the intention.”

She swallowed, Daenerys couldn’t help but feel sorry for what this girl had gone trough. She had been told her older brother had avenged the stain in her name and took back their home, giving it to her as he was chose to lead the North. If he bend the knee to her, she would give Lady Sansa and Tyrion the head of the woman that had wronged them for so long.

Jon Snow, as painted by others to her, sounded exceptional. And it made her a little it sad, to think there were older brothers protecting their little sisters, fighting men that had touched them, when hers had sold her away to a man she had learned to love through what was between her legs.

“Would you marry her again?”

“What?” He looked at her between surprise and amusement. “What are all these questions? Enough wine for you, my queen.”

She laughed, looking as he left his chair and walked over the wine, purring more into his coup and taking the bottle with him, away from her.

“If there’s something else in your head,” Tyrion said as he walked back to his place, “it’s time to say it. You know nothing will leave my mouth, you just say the words.”

I have a mark, she wanted to say, It’s the Sigil of House Stark. Daenerys wondered what would be Tyrion’s reaction. Westeroisi people thought of the mark a sing of love, would he think one of the reminding Stark belonged to her morrows?

“No.” She lied.

You’ve said Jon Snow is near my age, she could say, too. What if his mark matches mine? But if she do that, she’ll have to think of that possibility and not the one she has chose all those years ago. That she would fight her Destined One, not wed them. But if it was different, if it meant something else-- Then-- Then…

“Do you have a mark?”

Tyrion looked at her from the corner of his eyes, smirking. “Are we getting this private, now? If I recall, you’ve said that doesn’t matter.”

“So you have one.”

“I may.” He answered. “Just like you may.”

He was not telling her anything. She wondered if they had the same mark, since he had not answered her suggestion of re-marrying Lady Sansa having the opportunity. Or maybe she just wanted him to have it, too, so she would know what to do in case things were different. In case she meet her Destined One soon.

**

The Dragon Queen was warm. Her voice had been filled with steel the first time they met in her throne room, and the smell of blood was everywhere around the green of the grass when he stepped in, waiting for her arrival after she had left in the biggest dragon, the black beast called Drogon.

But she was warm to his touch now that she had been the first thing on his sight when he had woke up after facing death once again. If he had died, it was no doubt heaven would be her face and her voice, and the soft skin of her tiny fingers against his calloused ones.

Jon had wanted to ran from what he had started to feel as he saw her kindness to her people and the way they loved her, their loyalty to a woman who wanted nothing else but protect them and give them a home.

Soon he realized she had never knew home herself, she didn’t had a place in the world like he had felt for so long as he stood at top of The Wall and then walked beyond it, dressed in snow and smelling of sex for the first time. Like him, she understood what it was to build your own path for no God, no Lord, no nothing will give you one.

All that security and faith in herself was understandable, and a shield from the rocks throwed at her, too. He wanted to lower it, see her face, and now here they were.

Daenerys had been crying, he could see it in the tenderness of her eyes and red of her small nose. All of her was small, but not her spirit, not her wonder, not her voice, not her heart. She had left him after, he figured he had come too strong to her, all this was as new for himself.

He thought he had been in love before, and he had, but not like this. It felt different since the first time he had seen her, sitting still, like painted in silver with rays of gold in her walk and her stand. He thought her so beautiful, even if the rumors had come to him. And she had infuriated him right away.

But now, she was another. Real, more real than anybody has been before to him. She had entered his cabin again the next morning and, this time, she had took his hands and told him all about what he had missed as he slept.

Jon caught her looking at his body, at his chest, and soon he wanted to cover himself or make her close her eyes. But it was too late. Not only had she seen the scars he tried to maintain away from her and anyone in the hopes they would disappear, making all that had happened just a bad dream, but his mark, too. The symbol of her house, of her.

“Is that…?” She was moving her hand to his peck, then stopped and looked at him. “Your mark?”

He nodded, and her hand finally touched it. She traced the circle the dragon’s body and three heads formed, and stopped at the scar, following down to form the half moon it was. Jon said nothing, she soon put her entire palm over his chest, surely feeling the beat of his heart.

“You have a beat...” She looked up at him again, he hadn’t noticed she was now sitting on the bed with him. “I was told… I was told the returned didn’t.”

“The priestess that did it said I was special.” He shrugged. “Didn’t want to know more… But she brought me back, and I had the strength to fight again.”

“And you came to me.” She murmured, not looking at his face anymore but at the mark again. She caressed it once more and swallowed visibly. “I’m the last dragon.”

“Aye.”

“I have a mark, too.” Dany was looking at him again, her eyes were shining with too many emotions he wanted to find one by one in the rest of her body, in her lips, in her sighs, in her laugh and her sleep. “It’s… It’s...”

Jon smiled, it felt like the first time he smiled in a very long time, even if he had been doing so around her a lot lately. She didn’t need to say it, he knew. So he took both her hands in his and kissed them, she shivered a little and Jon looked up immediately, hoping she won’t run again.

It must had shown in his face, since she started to shook her head in urgency, a single tear going down her face. “I won’t, I won’t.”

He dried her tear with his hand and hold her near his chest, until she rested her head and weight on his body, and his arms rounded her. She was warm and small, and smelled like everything alive, green and shinning.

Dany didn’t cry again after, they stole a touch or two from time to time, and agreed to sail together to his home.

**

“What…?”

“Shhh...”

Daenerys could tell him he had no right to shut her, she could tell him to come back and kiss her some more, that all he needed to do was to get inside her and take them into oblivion as their bodies collided deliriously again and again.

She had missed him. Not many nights had passed since they last lied together, but he had been away, consumed by doubt and tragedy. He seemed to live in the shadows, like her dream lover had been, feeding on sorrow until his mind was made and his soul needed to breathe.

This time, though, she had searched for him. Daenerys was tired to just wait and she knew, no matter her Hand’s advice, that he had needed her maybe since the beginning. But that was done now, she could only try and provide comfort to him, let it be as a lover or as blood of his love.

“What are you doing?” She questioned a little alarmed, no one had kissed her so near her core before, almost were her mark was. Was he searching for it? She had promised to herself to show him soon, but those plans had been ruined by the news that had come.

Come morrow, they were marching to The Wall, back on direction were her precious Viserion had lost his life and returned in the hands of the evil itself. They were going to crush his army and stop him from taking away anything else from them and their people.

But tonight, they had finally get together. His chamber wasn’t as big as a King’s should be, but it smelled all like him and Dany immediately felt safer inside when she stepped in. He had looked at her between surprised and pleased, as she waited for him to talk or let her hold him.

He had put his mind at peace about something he always knew, that Eddard Stark was his father even if he didn’t carry his name and that his mother must had have a reason to not have a place to him. He had been brought to this world in love, and in love for him and his father, his mother had went, leaving him in the care of that he will always call Father.

And he was a dragon, too. She wanted him to embrace that, too. But as Tyrion had suggested, one step at the time.

Right now, she lied on his bed with his between her legs, kissing her right thigh as he hand opened her wide for his explorations. She had undress him this time, kissing his body as he had kissed hers the first time, and yet he was searching for her pleasure more than he wanted his.

He kissed over her core, not quit touching it, but traveling to her left thigh, slowly filling it with more of his small, wet kisses, until he stopped. Her heart was already beating itself out of her body when she remembered what lied there and she lifted her upper body to see his face.

Jon’s eyes were fixated on her mark, his fingers brushing it as if confirming it won’t fade away. Daenerys swallowed as he slowly looked up at her, asking.

“I was… I told you before, I have a mark.”

“I can see that.”

“What furter proof could you ask for?” She said, smiling at him. A dragon birthed and raised by wolfs, their marks matched their souls and he smiled at her, lowering his face without darting his eyes from hers until his lips touched her skin and she moaned a bit. “What-- what are you doing?”

“I’m kissing you, my Queen.” He murmured over her core and his breathe made her shiver, almost closing her legs around his face, but his hands were still holding her open. His fingers opened her folds and her heart beat faster. “I love you.” He said, and before she could answer him, his tongue found her clit and rubbed it softly.

Dany moaned louder than she remembered doing before, she almost wanted to silence herself but when she had stopped, he had lifted his hand, indicating with his fingers to not stop and she would had laughed if it wasn’t for his tongue entering her and making her moan almost in a scream.

He kept pleasing her for what fell like a lifetime until her orgasm came and she had moaning his name loudly.

She hoped he knew she loved him. She loved him so much, she wanted the world to know they had been marked for each other, that he was hers as she was his, and there was no force that would kept her apart from him again.

**

Dany’s mark was the Stark House’s Sigil, and his mother was Lyanna Stark. He looked down at his Queen’s round belly and for the first time, hoped the Gods would send them a girl.

“A girl?” She had smiled wide. “Makes sense, I would love to have a daughter and braid her hair, hear her sing, and make her dresses that would match mine.”

“You’ll do that to our daughter.” He said playfully, carrying their oldest as he was learning to walk but had discovered the thrill of running around. “She’ll grow up a beautiful princess, will fight like a knight.”

“I’m sure her aunts would love to teach her tender and teach her stark.” She laughed and Jon smiled at her, leaning down to kiss her forehead, Aemon yelled ‘no’ and he rolled his eyes, looking at his son who was returning his gaze with a scowl. “Look at my prince, he loves me so much.”

“That’s my wife, little boy.”

“No!” He said again, this time asking for his mother’s arms. Dany laughed, opening her arms to their son.

Aemon could barely speak and was still learning to walk, they way he ran was that of a baby duck, but his love for his Lady Mother surpassed anything else. He laid on his mother’s chest, who looked at him from their bed, the sight inviting him to join them and never leave the bed.

“What name would you give your little sister?” He heard her ask Aemon, he had gone over the vanity to leave the heavy crown and undress for bed. The babe didn’t answer, and Jon smiled as he heard Daenerys laugh.

It was so common nowadays, have her smiling and laughing when they were outside the throne room and the small council. She would walk the streets of King’s Landing holding Aemon with two guards and Missandei at her back, him at her side, crown staying put on her head in elegance and rightfulness, and people would smile at her, offer her gifts and flowers for her and their child.

They often did this to teach Aemon how real the people around him was, so one day he would grow up and keep all they have fought for in its place, be wiser than them when needed, kinder. He saw the little boy and he saw love, he saw their union and their hope. And now a second one will come.

“What name would you give her?” She asked him as he walked to his side of the bed, Aemon was falling asleep and he knew they’ll have him waking them up too early in the morning or he’ll wet the bed.

“If you like, Lyanna.” He answered for her mark was a wolf and his mother was a Stark. “What name would you give her?”

Dany smiled instead, moving her lips in a mocking pout as he sat on the bed. He leaned forward and kissed her lips, her smile widened and she kissed him back, their child fast asleep at his mother’s side.

She laid down on the bed, moving to find her most comfortable spot until she was giving him her back and he covered them three, four, with the sheets, putting an arm around her, his hand resting on her roundness. He usually had the chance to feel their child moving inside her, and tonight he hoped would be the case again.

“Lyanna would be.” She answered.

“And what if we have another boy?”

“We’ll call him Robb.” She answered turning her face sightly to look at his eyes, her nose touching his.

“Robb?”

“I know you want a son named Robb, like your brother.” She answered, so long ago he had told her about that, when they thought the war was over and they would die in the cold, fighting the dead.

But they were here now, and she had giving him a beautiful and healthy boy, and their second would be as wonderful, whatever name it got.

Jon smiled, kissing her face as she closed her eyes.

“I do.” He answered. His hand moved from her belly and he caressed Aemon’s little cheek, hoping he would sleep peacefully. “Have you seen his mark?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “What do you think it is?”

“Happiness, hopefully.”

Dany smiled at him, happy as ever, welcoming his kiss when he leaned to her. She had been engraved on his skin since he had been a babe, and for the longest time, he never thought they would find each other.

Open Windows

New Girl

His sister gasped like every time she was at the window, Jon was sure her infatuation with the girl living in front of their apartment was adorable if not to Gendry, who eyed him like asking for help and he only smiled, biting his cheek inside his mouth so he wouldn’t laugh in the poor boy’s face.

“She’s back!” Arya announced what Jon saw this morning, he looked at the window and saw Nymeria and Ghost stand in two legs to see her.

“Oh, there you two are!” They heard the girl say, greeting their dogs. None said nothing but Jon noticed that even Gendry was watching now. “I’ve missed you!”

Like many times before, Jon wondered if the dogs or the position of her window in relation to their table didn’t allow her to see the way they could see the inside of her apartment and her pretty face every time she looked out to talk to their dogs.

Both huskies barked and moved their tails, crying softly to her like asking to be rescued from their boredom inside their apartment.

Arya stood this time. “Oh?” Jon blinked watching her walk to the window, Gendry looked at him, then at Arya again before she leaned outside the window and talked to the girl for the first time.

“Hi, neighbor!” She said, both Jon and Gendry wanted to laugh, she shoved her hand inside and flipped them her finger without taking her attention from the blonde living in the other apartment. “I’m Arya. These are Nymeria and Ghost.”

“Hi!” She answered, her voice was sweet and Good Lord, Jon would be lying if he said she wasn’t the most stunning woman he has ever seen. “I’m Daenerys.”

Daenerys, he repeated in his head.

She had a small and minimalist apartment but flowers and pots with other plants in her two windows they could see, in her living room and bathroom. Three cats lived with her, one of them so big, Jon had to look at it twice for he had been drunk the first time he saw him made a ball in the window, looking at him like daring him to say something.

“I’m sorry but I have to say it,”

“Arya— ” Gendry started.

“Arya, no— ” He tried, too.

“but you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

They sighed almost at the same time, Gendry going back to his beer and he looking at his phone to tell Robb he owed him ten, since Arya had finally talked to the girl-in-the-next-window and had said something embarrassing. But Daenerys laughed instead, Ghost was moving his tail so fast, Jon wouldn’t be surprised if he started flying.

“In that case, I’m Dany for you.”

Dear Lord.

**

The first time Dany hear him, she had been brushing her teeth on her first day after moving.

Viserion was lurking in the shower, drinking as she pretended to not see him. He was a lost cause and she was tired. Moving from the other side of the country had drained all her energies and she deserved to rest in her new, only for her, queen sized bed with her cats.

She could hear music coming from the building in front. The space between hers and it was ridiculous, she was sure her cats could jump the distance easily and she hoped they wouldn’t get any ideas. For what she saw of her new front neighbors, they had two big dogs she wondered how they got to keep in a space so small.

The shower of her neighbor was initiated and oh God, was she going to hear everything they did in their bathroom? Dany didn’t thought of the noise situation when she first saw the apartment. Could they hear her as well? Damn.

“See, guys? We have free music, too.” She smiled at Drogon under the sink, looking angry in the corner and Rhaegal, sniffing everywhere like the dog she thought she was.

Daenerys sighed and put toothpaste on her toothbrush, moving her hips to the rhythm of the old song her neighbor was listening. As she cleaned her mouth, the song kept going, until instead of hearing the singer, her neighbor started singing out loud.

“She'll only come out at nights, the lean and hungry type… Nothing is new, I've seen her here before. Watching and waiting…”

“Ohf mafh Goshf!” She laughed into her toothbrush and her cats ran outside the bathroom, probably thinking her crazy.

The toothbrush fell into the sink for she had swallowed paste and was coughing, still laughing and listening to her neighbor as he sang without seeming to realize she was enjoying his concert.

“Oh-oh, here she comes… Watch out boy, she'll chew you up! Oh-oh, here she comes... She's a maneater!”

His voice wasn’t bad, though. She wondered what kind of person owed it. Surely, someone in such good mood to sing in the shower must be nice, and for how old the song, maybe old enough to be her father. She sighed, wondering if she would ever have the chance to be that carefree and sing in the shower, too.

Dany didn’t give it much thought to the singing male voice in her bathroom for three days.

She saw in her neighbor’s window the two dogs that constantly looked at her and her cats, it made her smile that even with the cats sitting by the widow, the dogs never barked unless she made faces at them.

They were cute, well feed and taken care of. Two huskies with beautiful fur and waving tails, for their collars she realized it was a couple and she wondered if the people living with them were a couple, too. Or if it was just the one that sang for her every night in her bathroom.

She kept clearing her living room from boxes during that time, carrying them into their rooms or the trash when she was done. And it was like this, carrying empty boxes when she saw him for the first time.

“Holy— ”

Right in front of the widow of the other apartment, a young man stood drinking an entire bottle of water without a shirt, sweaty and marked everywhere, like cheap commercial worth the title of guilty pleasure as it stands between the bookmarks of the computer’s records.

He had— the most stunning body she has seen in a while, and she had been with hot and beautiful men alike. His back was wide, toned with strong-looking muscled that moved deliriously as he drank the water and then crushed the bottle with his hands, throwing it into an unseen area of his apartment. For the way he smiled, she understood he had gotten it where he wanted.

Dany swallowed, surprised at herself for being this… distracted by an attractive man in sport tights, covered in sweat and wonderful black curls sticking into the skin of his neck. She smiled at herself and went to her kitchen, leaving the empty boxes when a voice made her look up.

“Ghost, to me.” She heard, the voice familiar. Dany chuckle to herself, walking back to the living room to watch as her half-naked neighbor pet his big white dog, taking off the leash he must had used to take the dog for a run. “Let’s go, buddy. I need a shower.”

The dog barked at her, moving his tail and ignoring his owner, who walked away without looking back. Had he done it, he would had seen the stupid smile on her face as she recognized this gorgeous man, strong and with big forms, singed 80’s song in the shower every night.

Well. At least, she liked her neighbor.

**

“Jon!” Arya came to him in the morning, too early for him but he had work to do and when he looked back at her, he frowned. “Thank God you are awake. This is an emergency, I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t.”

“What is it?” He said serious, waiting for Arya to speak.

“Do you have condoms? I don’t have any left and we forgot Gendry’s.”

“ARYA!”

She rolled her eyes at him and Jon looked at his cereal. One thing was to know his sister was in a relationship that included that, another was to just know it. It was a ridiculous reaction but he couldn’t help feeling like this anyway.

Her hair was messy and she was wearing a shirt way too big for her, so Gendry’s. Jon swallowed and shook his head.

“What does that mean?” She sounded desperate.

“I don’t have condoms, woman.” He answered. “Now that you disrespected my cereal like this, please let me eat in peace.”

“No way!” She walked to the her room again, “You stay there!” he heard her say and Jon shook his head, trying hard— fuck. Trying to not imagine Gendry’s expression. “You had last week! I don’t believe you used all of them!”

“What the fuck?” He said softly, a frown too deep on his face, he wouldn’t be surprised his face looked like that forever.

For the noise, he understood she had entered his room and Jon swallowed, leaving his cereal in the kitchen, no longer hungry, and walked outside to open the window for Ghost and Nymeria kept scratching at it. When he looked out, one of the neighbor’s cats was licking one of her plants.

“Buddy, no...”

The cat looked at him. It was white and smaller than the others, its collar green with a small bell, and it had stopped licking to look at him, leaf on its snout and oh, was the cat also judging him?

“We are out of condoms!” Arya said, coming back from his room. “You finished all?”

“I— I don’t have to answer you that.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and Jon felt like sweating cold. When he had offered to give home to his sister while she went to collage, he never imagined a scenario where they would hold this conversation. Or sit down to admire their neighbor like the creeps they were.

“I gave them away.” He murmured.

“Oh, my God! To who?” She almost yelled.

“Good morning!” Daenery’s voice interrupted them. Jon looked out and saw her removing the leaf-licker cat from the window, Nymeria and Ghost went up, moving their tails at her.

“Dany!” Arya jumped, running to the window. “Hi, Dany!”

“Hey, Ar— ”

“Sorry for the weird question, but do you, maaaaybe, have condoms?”

“Good Lord...” Jon sighed, walking away from the scene until he heard Daenerys’s laugh and he had to discretely look at her.

“Yeah, just wait.” She stood, showing the small shorts and tank top she was wearing while barefoot with her hair in a loose bum.

Daenerys was a beautiful woman, to deny it was to act stupid and boy, had he been having problems taking away his eyes from her for time to time.

“Here we go. Catch it!” Daenerys throwned the box to Arya and she catched it without problem. The distance between their apartments was ridiculous, even if at four floors from the ground. “Enjoy!”

“You are an angel! Thank you!” Arya said, standing and looking at him, showing the box like the little shit she was. “You better get out of the house or something.”

“Oh, my God...” He walked back to the kitchen, not without first looking to Daenerys, but she was gone already. “Just— leave me and my cereal alone, please.”

But when he looked back, Arya was long gone and Jon sighed. She needed to stop applying the Batman treatment to him, dammit.

His cereal was already lumps and Jon sighed once again, taking a spoon to his mouth when Arya appeared with curiosity in her eyes. He slowly left the spoon down, waiting.

“Why don’t you ask out Dany?”

“What?”

“I’ve seen you looking at her. And she asks for you plenty… so, ask her out.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t eat his cereal. When he looked at his sister, she was gone again and Jon was left alone with the dogs, both curled around themselves down the open window.

Daenerys was reading and writing on her couch, the big black cat made into a ball on the armchair, blinking as he fell asleep. Jon saw the white, leaf-licker, cat walking on her small table in front of her and the cream colored one jumped into the window.

It would be so easy to call her and ask if she wanted a cup of coffee or maybe a beer. Even though they hadn’t been properly introduced, for what Arya had told him, she wasn’t indifferent of him. So maybe— the cream cat jumped to his window.

“Shit!” He almost fell as a reflect, the cat meowed at him and looked inside the apartment, like searching for something. “Uhmm...” Jon looked forward to Daenerys’s apartment, but she was still working and her cat was— “Nymeria, no.”

The dog barked, scaring the cat to almost fell from the window. Jon carried it, trying to take it with him and soon enough, he knew it was a mistake.

“Holy FUCK!”

“Viserion!”

Being scratched by a cat was a weird pain. It burned, and he knew his nose and cheek were bleeding, but not even then did he let the cat go. Nymeria and Ghost were jumping over him, probably wanting to take the poor cat, so Jon hold it under his head and the cat kept meowing and trying to scare.

“Oh, my God! Viserion! What are you doing?”

When he looked at her, Daenerys’s hand covered her mouth and he could tell she was blushing. Jon tasted blood on his lips and alright, this was not the best way to start a conversation.

“He jumped.”

“You are bleeding!” She said. “Did he scratched you?”

“Yeah, I think I scared him.” The cat meowed, like knowing they were talking about him. “How— Do you want me to go over, or…?”

She looked lost for a second, then she figured he was talking about the cat and she nodded, her cheeks still red as she looked anywhere but him. Jon cleared his throat and looked at her before walking to his room to dress up better than boxers and old t-shirt.

“I’m Jon, by the way.”

She smiled at him. “Dany.”

**

Rhaegal was the next one to make it into Jon and Arya’s apartment, and she had fallen in love with both, Ghost and Jon.

She kept doing it, mostly when the dogs were away or nowhere to be seen, only to be chased out the widow, jumping for dear life back into the safety of her house. Dany wanted to be mad, but in reality she couldn’t blame her. The Stark siblings were nice, and they always fed Rhaegal when she refused to leave.

Maybe that’s how she ended walking Ghost with his owner, as a way to show gratitude for their welcome. She hadn’t met many people yet, only having her closer friends to hang out with, and now Arya and Jon. And Gendry, since he was almost always in the apartment, too.

“How long have they been together?” She asked Jon, he looked over at Arya and Gendry walking Nymeria in the distance in their own world.

“A few months.” He answered. “But they have been friends for many years. His father is my dad’s best friend, one of his younger brothers dated my other sister even.”

“So it stays in the family.”

He laughed, Jon had an affectionate laugh she enjoyed hearing. Dany had noticed he didn’t smile or laugh enough, his expression was mostly serious and he was silent unless Arya was around.

She had seen him, sitting on at his table, or on the table, guitar in hand and a pencil over his ear, writing music.

Ghost looked out the window most times when he was singing and playing, and she could see from her couch as he worked, his dog waving his tail at her.

His singing voice was soft, lower when he was working, but she could still hear it over the city’s noise. Many times, she had fallen asleep in her couch listening to him, and many others, she had wake up to the sound of his “shit!” after a cord broke or Rhaegal had jumped to play with his guitar, too.

In the almost two months she had been living there, Dany felt more at peace than she had in years, even if nothing happened ever.

“Why they broke up?”

“Uhm?”

“Your other sister and Gendry’s brother?”

“Oh, he’s an asshole.” Jon said, Dany laughed. There was no malice or that unhealthy tone of belonging some older brothers she had met have. Instead, Jon was honest and seemed to enjoy seeing his siblings have their own lives. “Gendry and Joffrey couldn’t be more different. They only share a father, Gendry is son of Robert’s first marriage.”

Dany nodded, moving her hand towards Ghost’s leash, Jon let her grab it and she laughed when the dog pulled too hard when she wasn’t expecting it. His hand landed one on her shoulder and the other over her waist to help her steady herself. His touch was welcomed, and sadly uncommon. He took away the hand on her shoulder, but not the one on her waist.

“Are you ready to starts classes again?” He groaned at the question and she laughed.

Jon was a music teacher and he was about to start teaching teenagers for the first time. It only made him more attractive to her, that he was so good with children and liked them enough to be a teacher.

“Don’t remind me, teenagers are scary.” He said. “But… on a positive note, I may not have to repeat myself as much. And I know teens tend to be more interested in music, so I guess I'll have kids asking me about my other job.”

He was also a song-writer. He didn’t want to perform, that’s what he said, but Dany wasn’t so sure about it. The way he sang said otherwise, but she wasn’t going to question him when they had just started to know each other. But for now, he wrote songs for commercials and indie movies in need of lyrics for fictional bands and singers. Jon was their man for that.

“I insist,” she started, “how does a writer has so many muscles?”

Jon blushed like every time she mentioned his body, he worked out a lot for an artist and slowly, she had started to notice maybe there was more in that than what was there to see. But again, she wouldn’t go around asking about him on his back, or making him feel uncomfortable with her direct questions.

If things were as good as she thought, he’ll tell her one day.

“I had a couple of rough years...” He murmured, slowly leaving her waist. She would be a lair if she said she wasn’t disappointed by it. “I was recommended to start working out to compensate, I got used to it.”

She nodded, her curiosity growing stronger. “Well, it sure pays off good.”

He shook his head, laughing. Their fingers were brushing against the other’s and she swallowed. “Teen girls will be happy to have you as their teacher.”

“Oh, God. No. I had to deal with a little girl having a crush on me during my first year as a teacher; is both awkward and a little endearing. But that was a kid. A teenager? They are scary.”

“Well, if you keep saying it like that, they will be your worse nightmare.”

Laughing, he discretely took her hand and Daenerys smiled wide, adjusting her hand to take his firm. They walked in silence for a few seconds, until they stopped as they saw Nymeria running free in the park. Jon let go of her hand, taking off Ghost’s leash and the dog went running to his sibling.

Before she could think maybe the contact was over, Jon took her hand again and guided her to a tree near them, Arya and Gendry were running to the swings at their backs.

“So what do you do for a living?” He said, leaning against the three.

She smiled at him without letting his hand go. “Don’t laugh...”

“I won’t.”

Dany smiled proudly and straightened her back, “I’m a fashion blogger.” She smiled, he didn’t say anything so she continued talking. “I’m sent things to wear and recommend, sometimes some makeup, too. People can access to the products in my blog and I get a commission when they buy something.”

“So you work at home?”

“Yes, and no.” She sighed. “I usually go shops hunting, to find where things are better, cheaper and with more variety.” She explained. “And I get paid to go to some events. Which is why I moved here.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “It’s kind of a big city, all good fashion events in the area are here. And there’s more stores and fashion houses.”

“How long have you been doing it?”

“Since I was a teen.” She answered with a big smile, the way he was looking at her made her feel appreciated.

Her brother Viserys had always mocked her for her decisions, while her brother Rhaegar always thought of it as a hobby, then some of her pasts partners didn’t seem to take her job serious. But Jon seemed interested enough to keep asking, and when he smiled at her, she couldn’t help but notice how true his words were.

“That’s amazing! You’ve been on your own for as long, or just recently?”

“I left home pretty young.” And that was all she would say at the moment, he seemed to get that and nodded.

“Me, too.”

She wondered what his face would be if she told him about her brothers and the parents she never knew, about her nephew and niece that were almost their ages, why she would never go back to her childhood town and why she had actually moved here. If he knew about how she had hear him sing before.

Dany wondered if she would sing for her sometime.

**

He was going to kill Arya.

“Gross, gross, gross, gross...”

Her hair kept plugging up the shower’s sink.

When they had started to live together a year and a half ago, they had put some rules to each other. In exchange of her putting on the trash the hair around the sink, he’ll leave the toilet seat down and the sink clean for when he shaved. But lately, his sister had forgotten about it and Jon was left to deal with blackish monsters of hair if he wanted to take a shower in peace.

So, God help him, he was going to kill his sister.

As he finished unplugging the sink, he heard his neighbor’s shower and couldn’t help but smile knowing Dany was in there. Lucky for him, the disgusting ball of hair and dirt, and God-knows-what-else, he was carrying in toilet paper between his fingers, distracted him enough from imagining her covered in soap and looking beautiful with her hair down, sticking into her skin—

Well, maybe not.

“Fuck...” He murmured, leaving the paper in the trashcan and eyeing with hate his crotch. Daenerys was his friend, it wasn’t fair of him to think like that of her.

Ready to wait for her to finish her shower, he took his towel and turned to walk back to his room for at least half an hour more, but a sound make him stop in his tracks.

A moan.

Jon looked up at his window. Again, the space between the apartment buildings was ridiculous, of course everyone could hear anything happening in the other building. He had hear it a million times: people’s parties and discussions, movies and fucking;

Arya and he would take the dogs out for a walk to make time for their neighbors to finish whatever the fuck they were doing.

But… Those ‘ah’ and ‘oh’ belonged to Daenerys, no doubt. Was she with some—?

“Oh, dammit!” She said after something made an echo hitting the ground. It sounded like being dragged away, he figured she had kicked it from her and Jon swallowed.

He shouldn’t be listening to this. He should be walking away and forgetting he ever realized it was her voice moaning so soft, yet loud. And regardless of this, his feet didn’t move, none of him did. He kept looking at a lost point in front of him as her whimpers and moans grow faster.

She had to be masturbating. No way someone was with her without making any noise, he wouldn’t be able to maintain his mouth shut had he been there, listening to that, being responsible for those delicious noises.

“God...” She whimpered, she was probably close now and Jon swallowed, his own hardness demanding to be attended. “Oh, God, God, God...”

“Fuck.” He murmured, breathing hard and finally moving to walk the hell away. His feet hit the corner of the door and he hissed loudly, coursing as Ghost ran to his aid and Arya laughed inside her room.

He looked back at the window, no sound but his heavy breathing. Jon hoped she hadn’t realized he heard.

**

“And, in spite the dust and my allergies, I worked here for three years.”

“Three?” She smiled, Jon nodded and guided her through the small corridors of the store taking her hand gently.

You could hear soft jazz music through the speakers of The Wall, town’s oldest bookstore that nowadays belonged to Jon’s best friend, a man she couldn’t met yet, Sam. His wife, a young and kind girl named Gilly smiled at her when she looked over at the counter were she was cleaning a new stock of old books that had arrived that day. They also had a kid, she was told.

“When I was here, the original owner was still alive. I met Sam working here.” He explained.

“He’ll sit down there,” he signaled an area with couches and coffee tables, a sign named it ‘The Reading Pit’, “for hours. The doctor would sit down with him and they would talk about what Sam was reading until late at night.”

“The doctor?”

“The owner. We called him doctor, but he wasn’t...” He sighed, taking her hand and walking her out the store, to the small fountain in the back were a silent garden rounded it. “He wasn’t a medical doctor, though; he reached a doctorate in his field. This place was made by his brother as a gift, here...”

They walked to the side, sculpted on the wall was a plaque. “And it was made… by Targaryens.”

Her eyes opened wide, reading the plaque in front of her. It was from the town, claiming the place as important to its culture, ‘founded by Aegon Targaryen’ and ‘for his brother, Aemon Targaryen’. Daenerys’s smile became softer as her hands touched the stone where her last name had been engraved.

“Why…?” She looked up at him and he smiled, squeezing her hand.

“You said your name has never done anything good before.” He murmured. “But that’s not true. Your brother may be shitty, but not all of them are.”

Dany swallowed, she had been sad and a little bit drunk when she said that, and yet he had remembered. They had been growing closer with the passing months and every time she had to talk to Viserys, she seek comfort in Missandei or Arya, which then leaned her to Jon’s shoulder and his soft voice.

She wanted to kiss him right there, for sharing a part of his past she didn’t necessary needed to know, and for searching for a way to make her feel better, even when that sadness had gone the second he had hold her close and let her sleep in his bed with his dog.

He feed her cats when they paraded into his apartment and didn’t mind to be scratched by them for he was still learning how to handle them, and had not tell her anything about that incident weeks ago. She was almost sure he had hear her in her bathroom; she had discretely questioned Arya about it and she didn’t had an answer.

“Jon...”

“I’m not saying all you have lived is not valid. Believe me, I’m livid every time I think of your brother… but that’s not you.” He tenderly touched her cheek with his free hand and she leaned into his touch. “You’re amazing. Look how far you’ve come by yourself, Dany. You hold your name str--”

To kiss him was maybe her best decision for their relationship. For how sweet he was, he was also insecure at times. If he ever thought again of himself as less than all those things he thought of her, she was going to scream.

Jon’s lips were soft, it made a curious contrast with the burn of his beard. She had stood on her tip toes and slowly got back into the ground, but the spell of their kiss didn’t break. He was holding her hand and face, ever so gentle as she cradle his face in both hands, moving her lips softly against his.

His tongue licked tentatively at her lips and she parted them to give him entrance, Jon moaned into her mouth and her hands landed on his chest, grabbing hard at his shirt as the kiss grew steamier and the afternoon became gray, rain clouds covering the skies with their fresh smell impregnating the garden.

Dany looked up at him, her lips ached to kiss him again and she could tell he was feeling the same, licking at his bottom lip before going for another kiss, and one more, then running back hand in hand into the store, Gilly laughing as they entered already wet from the rain.

Even with dust in their hair and noses, water on their clothes after, this was the kind of first kiss she dreamed of when she was a little girl.

Cracked

Viserion had been the smaller of her children, bony even, as he grow up with his brothers leaving him behind. They constantly throw bites in his direction and she had to call up Drogon and Rhaegal for their mean manners to their smaller brother.

She remembers the golden egg, looking like a precious rock, how it felt the first time she held his shattered form and felt the warm inside her chest and belly, recognizing it as special since the beginning, all three of them hers.

Daenerys swallowed another sob. Jon Snow’s men surrounded her, giving weird looks at her figure, like not knowing what else to say but their thanks and sorry, as if they had been the ones putting her children in danger.

The figure in the bed didn’t distract her thoughts from Viserion long enough, his big and innocent eyes still fixated on her as she called them for a short bath when they were still small to stand on her shoulders. Drogon would ignore her and Rhaegal followed in his steps, like the younger sibling that admires the older.

Looking at the bed, she wondered if Lord Snow’s siblings admired him as much as his men seemed to.

None of them had left his side, constantly passing by to check on him, ask her if she needed anything. None stayed long enough to make conversation, and she knew better than to initiated it herself, so that was fine, too.

All this she was feeling, no one was invited to uncover it as he slept. Only him could give her an answer while her heart felt heavy still, the lose of her child haunting her like the murmur of rain before it became a storm.

He hadn’t opened his eyes today, they told her he will maybe tomorrow, or in a couple of days.

**

“Khaleesi, is freezing.” Ser Jorah said at her side while going home, and Daenerys looked at him as if he was far away and she had imagined his voice. “Please, come inside. They have prepared a warm drink for you.”

“Thank you, but I don’t feel like it.”

She didn’t feel like anything. Drogon and Rhaegal were flying by, just above their heads but far enough to not scare the rest of the men in the boat. Their travel was safe with them in the air, but they were uneasy. Missing.

“Khaleesi, please.”

Jorah’s plea didn’t register by much, she was missing, too. Searching. Waiting. But as Rhaegal fly by, crying out for a brother that would never come home, she realized at last, that her Viserion would not come back to her, no matter how much she waited outside in the cold.

“He’s gone.”

Her friend didn’t say anything. The comfort of his silence wasn’t enough this time, and he didn’t make a move to touch her. Ser Jorah was always so kind, always so warm, but not even his affection and company could take away the nothing inside her chest.

Drogon cried out now, calling his lost brother and her heart ached. Tears were rolling down her face and Jorah finally embraced her.

She remembered Viserion’s egg cracking in the middle of the consuming fire around her. Drogon was already out and Rhaegal had been opening his eyes when the last egg finally let out her third newborn.

The small frame of him reminded her that of a child and she wanted nothing more but to protect him. Daenerys hold him at the time, helped him get to his feet and stood showing her children to the world for the first time. Her people bend on their knees and recognized the miracle of her motherhood that had bring them to life after years of no dragons.

“He’s gone!”

But she had failed Viserion. He was dead now, fallen from the sky like a simple birth stroke by a single arrow.

“He’s gone…”

And Jon Snow had stood for her, sword high and faster than she has seen any westeroisi man. He had ran away from her, yelling rage like breathing fire from his, otherwise, almost gentle mouth. No one had ever done that for her children, only her.

But he had order her to leave him behind for he was about to end an enemy that had wronged his people for too long, that had took down her dragon, and was—it was going to attack her, isn’t it? She could barely remember, her mind and heart had been far away, almost to her throat and into the ground.

Viserion would never come back, just like her childhood dreams and red door wouldn’t, like Drogo had left her to not be again, like she never looked back. But Jon Snow did. He had came back to her, frozen to a certain dead, and yet he had come back and lived another day.

She walked inside at least when the tears stopped and the cold had started to be unbearable, Jorah behind her like if confirming she was warm enough to survive. But she didn’t went for her hot drink or another boring tiny chit-chat. Daenerys almost stormed into Lord Snow’s chambers and looked as Ser Davos prepared him for a quick bath, pot of water at his side and a small towel into his hand.

“Your Grace.” He greeted her. “I didn’t knew you were coming.”

“Neither did I.” She admitted and walked inside, looking at Jorah to dismiss him. He seemed uncomfortable with her actions but, like many times before, stored his desires for himself and left. “Can I help?”, she asked after closing the door.

“But—” Davos stood while blinking, she opened her mouth to give an order, or maybe just tell she wanted to, but he nodded first. “I don’t think it’s appropiate…”

“A lot of things aren’t in these lands.” She said, walking to the other side of the bed to slowly uncover Jon’s shoulders. “I—”

“How about you help me with this water and these towels, your Grace?” He invited her to his side. “I’m afraid there are things that should remind a mystery in here.”

Her face felt warm but a small smile crossed her lips, and guilt punched the air out of her. But Daenerys walked to Ser Davos’s side, holding the pot of hot water and passing towels to him when his hand reached for them.

She didn’t look, she couldn’t. If she was to witness Jon’s forms, she wanted him well and awake. She wanted him to share it, so she could share hers.

**

When she first met Jon Snow, she was sure she had seen him before. Later, she dreamed of him, but it wasn’t quit him.

It was that young lover she used to imagine, making her moan and cuddle him to her chest at night. Daenerys had reprimanded herself. How could she think like this when the man had called her not only a child, but had talked to her with such disrespect, claiming to not bend the knee to a stranger?

But he had been there at Dragonston after, walking around and working with dirt and crystal with his own hands, helping his men and talking to her people, as much as he and them could understand.

Now, he lay here, in the bed of one of her boats, half dead and covered in fur to bring him back. Two nights he had slept and she was starting to get impatient for his eyes to open.

The scars in his chest and abdomen haunted her.

It reminded her of her own, of the ones in Drogo’s body and Daario’s, but not quit the thing either. These were deep, dark looking. The skin around them was dead, probably hard to the touch.

He had taken a knife to the heart for his people. There was no exaggeration in that. And there was no pride on it for him, either.

If he was another, he may had used his survival for an exclamation of surprise and admiration. But he kept doing things that only surprised her for real, making her curious and wanting to talk, and talk, and talk.

She sat down at his side on that third day, they had told her he may wake up any time by now. For the moment, there was no danger surrounding him or them. They needed him to wake up, only that way they would make sure he was, in fact, completely out of danger.

“Here”, the boy named Gendry had entered the room with a bowl of food and more warm drink. “Is dinner time, your Grace.”

Daenerys nodded, Gendry left the plates on the night’s table and she kept her guard, listening to the sea guide them home and her dragons cry the one that was gone.

Jon was not going to be gone, she had decided. She couldn’t lose another one.

**

Early in the morning of the fourth day, she cried again, alone in Jon’s chambers.

She wasn’t sure for what the tears were, her child or how none of her dreams of home were true. Or Jon, that had been stabbed before they could meet. Or because he hadn’t woke up yet. It was still dark in the sky, and Daenerys cried in silence, swallowing sob after sob, until her eyes were dry and her nose was hurt.

Nobody came in the morning to give her breakfast or clean him up.

With firm hands, she disposed of the water and the towels, and cleaned him herself, at least cleaned his face and his arms, his shoulders and collarbone, until Ser Davos came and none said a word about what duties she had taken that weren’t hers to do.

“How do you feel the winter?” Davos said after Jon was clean, sitting with her as they waited for him to wake up. “I bet it’s not how you imagine it.”

“I didn’t think much of winter, Ser.” She answered. “I imagined other places with sun.”

“Like what? If I may ask.”

“You may.” She smiled, looking at Jon from the corner of her eyes. “Dragonstone. It was sunny when we arrived, but it’s been… dark, most times. The sky has been bluer lately, for sure.” She couldn’t help but look at Jon. Just a few days ago, he had been in Drogon’s landing spot and the contrast between his gray and black colors against the brightness of the sea and the sky, the green of the grass and the golden of the sun, had made him look beautiful. “Snow must be beautiful…”

If he had something to say or was thinking of her at the moment, Ser Davos said nothing and she appreciate it that way.

She has never seen snowing, not really. In dreams, the cold tugged at her core and made her shiver, she would see the small drops of ice melting in her skin and nothing else. Daenerys never imagined the real cold, never thought something would feel as it.

Most times, she was warm for she was a dragon after all, but the North was real to its claims, her skin was cold as her heart felt and she swallowed.

“What do the northers do when they have sick people in bed?” She asked.

Davos seemed to search for his answer, probably thinking of Jon’s House and what was done over there.

She knew so little about him but so much at the same time. She didn’t knew which of his siblings was the closer to him, if he had a favorite meal, if he wished to have the power to change something of his past.

But she knew he was a good man, that his heart may be too big for his own good. Her children recognized him like they never did anyone before. She recalled them growling at her lovers and friends, they had been always only touched by her. And Jon Snow had become their friend, suddenly touched by him.

If Drogon could be submissive to Lord Snow, so will be Rhaegal. Her Viserion would had been so happy to have another set of arms to pet him, and the threat she didn’t believe in had taken him away from all of it.

“People pray to their Gods and put on guards, waiting for them to wake up.” Ser Davos answered. “Sometimes, they tell stories, sing songs. Some women sew, other make figures to offer to their Gods and ask for their favor.”

“Doesn’t sound so different.” She admitted. “I guess we all love the same.”

He was looking at her now, she could feel it. But once more, he said nothing and only nodded. “We do.”

**

He woke up later that fourth day, hold her hand, said he was sorry, and looked at her like if she had bring peace to him as he longed since forever.

Daenerys couldn’t take it, it was all too much.

She ran from him like a little girl.

**

She dreamed of Viserion, happily flying and playing with his brothers, sleeping on the grass and sniffing on wild flowers that only made him sniff multiple times until he needed water to take the strange flavor and smell from his nose.

No matter how big he got, he was still her baby. And now he was gone.

Daenerys woke up with tears in her eyes for her dreams became nightmares of him sinking in unknown waters that would freeze him for eternity, away from home, away from her forever.

Her heart hammered inside her chest, and she put one hand over her mouth, silencing the best she could the sobs coming out from her. She had lost Rhaego first and it had almost killed her, to know she was responsible for that lost had also killed part of her spirit ever since.

Now, she had done it again. She had put in risk her dragons and one had fallen, she unable to do anything but watch.

Her baby didn’t like the water, he took his quick showers when he was younger better than his brothers, but he had never liked it anyway. And now he was doomed to sleep in water for the many years to come.

**

When she opened Jon’s door, he wasn’t in bed and for a second, her heart stopped.

“I thought you weren’t coming again.” She heard to her right, he was standing outside the toilet area, barely dressed in pants and nothing else. “Your Grace.” He greeted her after making eye contact, slowly walking back to the bed.

“Good morning…” She said, looking him get into bed lazily. “You are looking better. Are you feeling better?”

“I am.” He answered. His voice was as sweet as it had been yesterday, it made her legs feel weak and the rest of her body fill with strange sensations of cold and warm at the same time. “But you don’t seem any better, my Queen.”

The way he said those words shouldn’t be allowed, maybe she should tell him to stop it, but her heart didn’t want her to. Daenerys licked her lips, walked to the chair she had claimed as hers and sat down in front of him.

“I can hardly sleep.” She admitted, watching him sit to face her, his hands over his lap and she ached to take them again, feel his warm, that he was real and very much alive. “I have so much in my head, not even tired I can shut it all down.”

She didn’t question herself why she was telling him this right now, and she probably wouldn’t later. He was looking at her that way again, like if he could see something nobody else could, and was keeping the secret to himself. Jon nodded, and she looked at his hands, wondering if he would touch her again or was keeping them away on purpose.

Had he felt rejected? Maybe. There was no time for this right now, a war that could end everything they most loved was about to walk through that wall she have seen only in dreams before, love was only a commodity that could become a weakness none of them needed.

Daenerys’ heart jumped a bit at the mention of love. There was no work for her to keep it away from the privacy of her mind, not now. She wondered if Tyrion had noticed already, that Jon wasn’t the only one staring and making dumb decision dictated by his heart.

“Daenerys,” he called her and her body filled with goosebumps at the mention of her name. Until now, he had been respectful to her title and never said her name in her presence, but it rolled on his tongue like if he had said it a million times before, “what you did for us beyond the wall… Not anyone would put their lives at risk like you did, not for a bunch of nobodies like us. You saved us, you could had easily leave us there to die—”

“What kind of person turns her back to those who need her?” She interrupted, he tilted his head and smiled softly. “You are a brave warrior, Jon Snow. You’ll be needed, you already are.”

“Jon is alright.” He answered, Daenerys swallowed. “You have too much of a good heart, you should allow yourself to accept when someone says thank you.”

“Where you?” She smiled.

“I was going to, aye.” He replied with his smile widening. “Thank you, Daenerys.”

She could feel her own smile widening instead, her cheeks grew tender and Daenerys looked down at her own hands, aching to touch his again.

“Dany it’s okay.” She said instead, slowly looking up at him again. “I was just taken aback by it before.”

He said nothing but smiled at her. The scars on his chest were exposed and her eyes lingered over them almost without her noticing, when she wanted to look away, it was too late. He had seen her and had moved to show them properly.

Daenerys’ heart ached at the view. How could someone want to harm him? Him, that was the most noble man she has ever met? She looked up at his face again. Maybe that had been the problem, maybe he was too good for the people and no one had understood it.

“Your scars--” She left the question floating around, hoping he would catch it.

“Aye.”

She left out a heavy sigh, her shoulders feeling heavy and lose at the same time. Daenerys liked her bottom lip while looking down again and slowly approached his chest with an uncertain hand. But she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t just reach out and touch, and when his hand took her wrist to guide her over him, her heart hammered inside her chest.

His skin was warm and the edges of every scar exactly like she thought, hard and not quit old yet. She wanted to ask him when this has happened, how it was, and if the ones who did it were still alive. The idea burn deep in her belly, forming an emptiness she didn’t like.

“How could it be…?”

“A Red Priestess brought me back. I don’t know all the details, I suspect I don’t want to know.” He said, his tone letting her know there was more to it he couldn’t put into words.

She wasn’t here to torture him with it, so she just followed the path to the scar over his chest. “So you were truly-- you were dead.”

It wasn’t a question and he didn’t seem to want to hide it anymore, Jon nodded.

The scar looked like a half moon, it almost made her smile when her mind recalled the times she has been called The Moon. She wondered what he would think, if he would felt as warm as she did while thinking about it.

“I almost didn’t met you.” Daenerys swallowed, looking up at his eyes. “You like doing stupid things, don’t you?”

The way he smiled, lowering his head before looking up again, she realized he was trying to not laugh. So she moved from her chair, standing in front of him with both hands on his face. He stopped then, looking up at her eyes in a tender way, still a bit surprised, but loving. There was no other way to describe it.

“You have to stop.” She said. “I’m not losing you. You said you are a King, then be one. You don’t have to be the stupid hero, survive for your people if you won’t for yourself.”

Jon’s eyes were a poem, or that they looked to her. Daenerys didn’t realize when he had put his hands on her waist but responded to the soft push of them, sitting on his lap in the process as he embraced her tight.

His grip was strong, his breathing heavy and his smell sparked the memory of a rainy morning as she looked through her window in the big house with the red door when she was a kid. Daenerys frowned, memories of that house were still sacred to her, and as much as she wanted to maintain them fresh, they had been disappearing one by one. But this one was new.

Almost as new as the way she felt for him. Not the same she felt for any of the people she has cared about before, not like her love and necessity of Drogo, her desire for Daario, her connection to Jorah. It was-- it was--.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, the warm of his mouth so close to her ear, her skin sparkled in goosebumps. “I’m here now.”

He would probably keep doing all the dangerous things being a leader got them to do, she would put herself in danger many times again after this, but as a long as he returned to her and hold her like this, she’d be stupid with him.

Feeling like this was probably a mistake, but she couldn’t help it. Daenerys smiled at him and leaned her forehead to his, closing her eyes and they breathe each other in.  

Through My Eyes

The chill of winter filled the halls of Winterfell when it should be overwhelming with noise. It pained Sansa to notice with every passing day, that so many people lived and worked inside the walls of her home, and yet no sound echoed as it used to when she had been growing up.

Her remaining siblings were all home, and none talked to the other nor giggled like when they had Father and Mother to call them up on their little games. Only the snow reminded, covering the ground where Arya used to train with the boys and when she and Jane would walk around, gossiping and fantasizing about their future husbands and castles.

Children’s dreams.

It pained her even more to call Jon her cousin, although as Arya had suggested to him in the middle of everyone’s silence, he was still their older brother, have always been. His birthname tasted bittersweet in her mouth and she had seen the frown in the Dragon Queen when the news were revealed. Then, Jon had left the room.

Sansa sighed, just a day had passed when he had come back and called the bannermen, giving the news that came from The Wall in the form of Bran’s mystical eyes. The dead were coming and Jon had assumed Father’s figure, eager to fulfill his duty and forget what else had been told to him just now. The Queen looked at him, as if expecting him to look back, but he never did.

“My Lady,” she looked at her side and smiled at her new companion, nodding his direction, “enjoying the cold?”

“Not quite.” She answered to Lord Tyrion and he sighed, standing at her side as both saw down to where people were trained for weeks, now all inside for dinner, knowing soon they’ll march with her brother to an almost certain death. “How is the cold treating you? I know you are not used to these lands, my Lord.”

“I’ve been in worse conditions.” He answered, his voice painted in sarcasm but she could hear the truth behind them. “Besides, being a guest has always been one of my favorite things when the company is so good.”

Sansa smiled a bit. There was a time not many things made her even try on a smile, when she had been younger and made to wed this man at her side. She remembers with warm that he had made her laugh a time or three, she had felt almost safe when she thought him and Shae her friends.

But Shae had betrayed both and time had made them into different people, and while Sansa trusted Lord Tyrion as much as she could nowadays, she still had her reservations when it came to his new political position and what it meant for her and their people.

“How is he?” He asked suddenly, Brienne and Podrick were entering the training yard, she knew Arya and Bran must be no far behind.

“If you mean Jon, I have no idea.” She answered, looking as her siblings entered the area, a third person with them at Arya’s side. The smith boy. “He hadn’t talk to anyone in three days. I assume you haven’t see him either.”

Lord Tyrion shook his head. “Your sister seems attached to that boy.”

“He is King Robert’s bastard, isn’t him?”

“The last no-recognized Baratheon.” Tyrion said, even though in mockery, still true and with a sightly tone of amusement. “He is a good boy, if you wish to know.”

“I doubt my sister would look at him like that if he wasn’t.” She answered, recognizing her own amusement that made Lord Tyrion smile wide. It had been a while since she felt like gossiping. Maybe having all these people around was returning the warm of this home. “Is it true he looks like King Robert? I don’t see it. At all.”

“My Lady, you met Robert when he was a cow, of course you can’t see it. But yes, Gendry is a curious re-do of his father. Thankfully, it’s only in the outside.”

“Thankfully.” She repeated.

Down in the yard, Brienne and Podrick stayed near Bran, looking at the entrance, as if waiting for someone else to walk in. With Bran’s power, she wouldn’t be surprised if a new guest entered Winterfell at the moment. Yet, she focused on Arya and Gendry, walking around the yard in deep conversation.

It figured to her as courting, the way they leaned into the other to hear them better and how slow they walked. Arya chuckle suddenly, stopping her walk as she looked at Gendry who seemed rigid, and when her sister started to laugh, loud and un-lady-like, Sansa couldn’t help but smile wider than she had in a very long time.

“Gods!” Lord Tyrion said at her side, Sansa looked at him but returned her sight to the couple as both looked at the front, too. Arya had her hand on his chest, the touch seemed so natural, she almost forgot they were nothing but friends officially. “My Lady, that’s the longest I’ve seen you smile since we were married.”

“Ah!” She gasped and almost laughed, looking at him with false offense. And she would had replied with equal playfulness if it wasn’t for the pair walking to the yard, too close to the other to be called friendly.

Jon and Daenerys looked like painted for the halls of High Garden, it was like if they were made to match each other. Daenerys’s silver and white colors contrasted Jon’s greys and blacks, but none out-stood the other. Sansa tilted her head sightly as they walked to Bran, Arya and Gendry making their way back to their parting point.

She wondered if they had come into terms with whatever relationship they had, or have. Her brother as impulsive and seemed to not think the consequences of his acts most times, but she knew he wouldn’t risk the people he was responsible for and whatever there was between them, would stay between them. At least for the time being. Or that she hoped.

“Seems like we have a new preoccupation.” Tyrion sighed. “They have made up.”

“You sound unhappy.”

He looked at her, no smile or amusement. Whatever it was, it was serious for him. “Don’t you think it inconvenient for them to be in love?”

In love. That was what she feared. She was almost jealous of Jon’s freedom of finding love in these circumstances and in someone that could crush them with a single movement of her finger. But was exactly for what she knew Daenerys wouldn’t do such thing, for she trusted Jon’s good heart and the fact that he wouldn’t chose someone whose heart didn’t match his.

“Arya pointed out something to me the night they came here.” She looked at Lord Tyrion, hoping to maybe calm his preoccupations. “Anyone is better than Cersei at this point and our brother would not chose as his partner someone with a bad heart.”

“But you don’t trust our Queen.” He pointed out.

Sansa smiled, nodding. “Not yet. Don’t get me wrong, my Lord. I can see my brother’s feelings almost as good as Arya sees them,” she explained, looking back at the group in the yard, “he is impulsive and will put in risk his life for her, I know that, too. And I know that worries you dearly.” He lowered his head, nodding slowly. “I can see she is exactly like him, for what we hear. She did not listen to you and rescue my brother, even lose one of her dragons. I’m grateful for that but I can also see how stupid that was. But right now we have a fight beyond thrones to win.”

“Careful, not let anyone hear you say such things of the Queen.”

“Who would hear me here that will tell all this to anyone?” She smiled at him, her eyes following the scar on his face and the way his own smile was starting to show. “You? I know you, too, my Lord. My words are safe.” And he finally smiled.

They looked at each other for a few seconds before looking down again, where Arya and Gendry were making mountains of snow. Jon was talking to Brienne as Podrick and Bran observed the Queen getting on her knees to help reunite the snow. Jon stopped talking, looking only as Daenerys listened to Arya, seemly explaining how to create a block with snow.

“Bless my brother and his obvious eyes.” She smiled. “I wouldn't have anything to amuse me if it wasn’t for this play. Look at him watch her, he loves her.”

“And she loves him.” He sighed. “No matter what I say, I guess I can only support her. Them.” He corrected himself, then looked at her. Sansa looked back. “It’s not gonna be easy.”

“When we defeat the dead, it may.”

“How, my Lady?”

“Well,” she sighed, “this is not actually my idea. It’s Jon’s. He believes once the people sees she is here to fight for them, people she could submit with just one dragon, they will see what he has.” Sansa locked her eyes in his, he needed to see the security in her face as she said the next part. “I believe that’s possible. Before, even though they would never disrespect my father’s bastard, Jon was nothing but that to them. And I was just a Lady with no home. It wasn’t until we won back Winterfell and they saw the good leader Jon can be that they finally respected him. It can happen with her, too.”

“Let’s be hopeful.” He sighed.

“They can get married.” She suggested, looking at his reaction to the idea. There was something he wasn’t saying. As she suspected, he made a face. “You don’t want my brother to be King?”

“It’s not that, my Lady.” He answered almost immediately. Jon had walked to the builders, and they seemed to be explaining what they were doing in the snow. “Your brother is a great ally… but there are things that may not look favorable. Him being a heir changes the game, it gives us an opportunity.”

“Us?” She interlaced her fingers under her belly and waited.

“Meant Daenerys. I haven’t had the chance to talk to her, she’s been… you know.” He sighed. “She can’t conceive. But--”

“Don’t say that.” She asked.

“It would be more helpful if he became her heir. She can’t have children.”

“That’s not yours to decide.” She said, her hands were shaking, so he maintained her hands together. “I don’t think she likes you telling this to people. You are putting her in a bad position.”

“I’m not telling this to anyone, I know my words are safe with you.” He said, echoing her words from earlier.

She shook her head and felt sorry for the Queen again. As a girl, she wanted to become queen one day, now she wasn’t so excited with the prospect of it. She felt safer with the power she got by being a Lady, she liked administrating her own house, but having her life exposed like this, she wouldn’t be able to take.

“I can see your point, my Lord.” She said at least. “Still, I hope you’ve been or will be gentler talking about this to her than to me.” She arched an eyebrow. “I would have you out my sight if you treated those matters so cold as talking about me.”

“I know it’s a delicate theme, but--”

“Do you, my Lord?” She swallowed, noticing how she was understanding better the Queen now. “This is a woman that calls herself Mother Of Dragons. Do you?”

He seemed to finally see her point and slowly darted his eyes away from hers, back to the Queen that was smiling happily as she and Arya tried to mold the snow in with their globed hands. Sansa shook her head, they were doing a poor job at it. Arya was never the best at building figures in snow, but the scene was still tender.

Jon kept looking at the Queen, trying with Gendry to help her and Arya with the principal building since they had finished what seemed like a small patio. Sansa tilted her head, wondering what they were supposed to be doing.

“I guess I didn’t thought of that before.” Lord Tyrion finally admitted. “Gods, I keep losing my touch with her. She exasperates me sometimes, like a little sister. She doesn’t listen, but she is--” He chuckle. “So smart and good. I know she’ll make a difference.”

“You love her.” She noticed.

“Of course.” He answered, looking at her. “She is the Queen I chose.”

“No, I mean--”

“Oh, no.” He laughed, looking at her as if asking how could she joke with this. Sansa recognized the truth in his face and smiled at him. “Not like that.”

She loved Jon the same. He was her brother, no matter what, and she believed he would lead them to a better morrow to win The Battle For The Down, and with the Queen at his side, they had a better shot, she wouldn’t deny that. What they wanted to do after, could be deal with then.

“Lord Tyrion!” They hear Daenerys calling her Hand. He leaned forward to watch her, she was on her knees at Jon’s side with her globes covered in snow. “Come here and talk to me!”

“Duty calls.” He said, nodding at the Queen and then looking at her to make a small bow and walk away.

But then Arya called her. “Sansa! Come here and helps up build a castle!”

“What?” She looked down, frowning. “Why would I do that?” She asked, knowing she wanted to be down there but also knowing she had work to do. Maybe she could go with them and convince Jon to do his job at least.

“Because I’m asking nicely!” Her sister answered and Sansa rolled her eyes, but walked down anyway.

**

“It’s good to see you out.” Was Sansa’s greet to Jon and Arya blinked a couple of times.

In the past Sansa had tried to mimic their Lady Mother and treated Jon poorly as she was becoming a lady, ready to marry her prince when her time was up. Nowadays, the respect between them had been made into a nicer relationship, and Arya couldn’t be more grateful for that. There was no time to be mean to each other, she was sure their Lord Father would had loved to see them reunited here, making snow castles like children.

“I’m sorry, It’s just...”

“It’s fine.” Sansa sighed. “Doesn’t matter know.” She looked down at Daenerys, who was looking at Tyrion Lannister and this time, she didn’t seem to think her the enemy anymore. Arya wondered what could had caused the change.

Could their conversation from last night be the cause? Or what she had been talking with the Queen’s Hand for so long up there? Whatever it was, her face not frowning was a nice look on her sister.

“We’ll have a talk before dinner, when we are over with our house.”

“I see.” Tyrion said at Daenerys’s words. She looked at the Dragon Queen in front of her and saw the little smile in Jon’s face, that was also a nice look on her brother. “And I also see you need help with that house.”

Daenerys looked down at their work and Gods, they were awful at it. She laughed careless and leaned a little into Jon’s shoulder, he smiled wider but looked down in the hopes no one would notice it. But it was too late, she wanted to tell him. Everyone and every leaf and dust knew of his feelings for the beautiful woman at his side.

It made her both, happy and sad. Jon was being loved by someone who deserved him, but his new position could kill their relationship if the Gods keep their cruelty and others reacted wrong to his other name, and his loyalty for the Queen. They could all die morrow, they could die at night. It was unfair, that their time could be cut so short.

“Lady Sansa, I’ve been told you are the best snow builder in Winterfell.” Daenerys called her sister and Arya looked up, waiting for Sansa’s reaction.

She nodded, her hands were put together over her belly, in her part as Lady of Winterfell, and Arya hoped they would be kids again. They used to get together, Sansa, she and Bran, and tried to teach Rickon how to build a castle in the snow. Their Lord Father had thaught them first, and then Robb and Jon had made sure they learned the best tricks to maintain the snow together.

Arya recognized she wasn’t the best at it, Sansa always beat her at it. On those times, she would call Jon to help her and Sansa would call her a cheater for getting seeking the aid of their brother, so Robb would come to her rescue. Their Father would be watching them from where Sansa had been with Lord Tyrion just now, sightly smiling at them being children.

But that was a long time ago. Now, Bran sat without apparent expression looking at them, his mind in another place; Jon was King, his face scarred and his hands showing calluses only a swordsman would carry; Sansa the Lady she always wanted to be but not quit it, choosing duty over joy when she had been full of summer; and she so different, wearing winter. Not knight, not a Lady, not just a warrior either.

“No, you are doing it all wrong. Gods...” Sansa’s voice took her away from her darker thoughts, she looked as Sansa got herself between Arya and Daenerys. Lord Tyrion was now standing near Bran, talking to him and Brienne of Tarth. “Look at this mess. Arya, this is work of yours, no doubt.”

“What does that mean?” She said, feeling her face warm. Daenerys was looking at them, observing their banter like if she was new to her.

“Means exactly what it is. Look at this. A mess.” Sansa destroyed what they had done, and both Arya and Daenerys exhaled in surprise, Jon was discretely laughing at Daenerys’s side.

Yet, Gendry's laugh distracted her from the small anger at her sister as she gathered more snow from their sides. She looked at him and the way his eyes shone when he laughed, so alike as when they had first met. He hadn’t change much, was older and stronger, but still the same friend she had found in the road.

Her face felt warmer when he looked at her and they shared a smile before he sat down in the snow, probably tired of being on his knees.

Their clothes would had to be change or they would get sick, no one was up for having to stay in bed, not now. But she could tell no one wanted to move from their positions, not when moments like these were so rare.

Sansa had build a better foundation for Daenerys’s house and leaned back, sitting on her legs as she waited for the compliments. Daenerys clapped her hands, she looked like an excited girl that has never played with snow before. And maybe she was, Arya had to remind herself how young the Queen actually was, how young her brothers and sister, and Gendry, and her were.

Like every time since they came out the crypts, Jon smiled at her and her expressions. She seemed to be magical for she could make Jon Snow, always in black and always brooding, smile so much and for so long.

“What are we building, anyway?” Sansa asked as Daenerys held snow in her hands and was being shown how to manipulate it into the building.

“The house with the red door...” Daenerys answered distracted. “It’s the place I used to live in when I was a child.” She said, now making a second floor with Sansa’s help.

“Let me...” Jon intervened, suddenly closer to the Queen. But she figured she wasn’t that right now, she was Jon’s friend. Or, admitting it, Jon’s lover, playing in the snow with his siblings. “Like this, so it won’t fall.”

“Jon is right.” Sansa assured, she put snow near the middle of the foundation. “Here is for your door. We need a stick or something.”

“Here.” Gendry offered the couple of sticks they had picked before. “It’s the tree, so be careful… My Lady.”

Arya wanted to laugh on his face again but maintained her mouth shout, but his expression told her he had seen the second she almost loses it. He eyed her as if offended but she knew it was all a game, it was always a game of who could exasperate the other the most.

“Tree?” Sansa asked while giving one of the sticks to Daenerys and the other to Jon, who had extended his hand to her.

“There’s a lemon tree outside the widow of my room.” Daenerys explained, signaling where the room should be made.

“Alright, we need a room.” Sansa said, taking snow to make the room. “Arya, make a circle in the patio for the tree… right here.” She touched the snow and left her finger printed in it, Arya started to circle around it, trying to imagine the roots of the God’s tree, how they seemed to have carpet of their own that maintained the grass different from the rest of it when it was summer.

“Gendry?” Jon called, he blinked when he looked up at her brother. “I think the wall we did before needs to be--”

“Taller. Aye, the house turned into a castle.”

Daenerys smiled, making little details with her stick on the door Jon had made. “I said it was big.”

Jon shook his head but kept on smiling. “I’ll work this part, you work over there.”

“Roots are ready.” She announced. “How was the room?” She asked the Queen.

“It had a big window, too.” She said, then looked at Jon. “Look at the door, it’s not exactly how it was, but I remember it this way.” He looked down at her work, Arya wanted to take a look, too, but left them to it. Sansa had seen it but went back to the widow, asking for the stick so she would made the proper space in the square of snow. Daenerys give it to her. “Just imagine it red. And the walls were all white. It was beautiful, the light got inside everywhere and it was never hot.”

When Arya looked at Sansa, she was smiling at their brother and Daenerys. She looked at Gendry and the others, all smiling, even Bran in his own new way and she felt grateful. Maybe things wouldn’t go so bad after all.

“Alright...” Sansa murmured, extending her hand to Jon. “Stick.” He gave it back and Sansa and she break the two of them in other two.

Pulling at one of her long red hairs, she used it to tie two of the new done smaller sticks and break the reminded ones into four, going to take another of her hairs when Daenerys offered one of hers. Sansa looked up at her and nodded, taking it to tie two of the new small sticks, then using the ends of hers and Daenerys’s to tie the two lasts.

“It’s not perfect...” She said, putting the build up tree in its place. “But there’s the tree.”

“That’s impressive.” Lord Tyrion offered and Sansa smiled at him, Arya lifted an eyebrow. She knew Sansa was made to marry him once but the marriage was false, never consummated even. She didn’t knew her sister actually appreciated the man.

“Just old tricks.”

“And you always said they weren’t.” Arya reminded her. “You accused me of cheating.”

“Oh, you were a cheater!” She said, amusement in her voice.

“I believe that.” Gendry added and Arya looked at him with daggers in her eyes, she hoped, but it only made him smile.

“What do you think?” Jon asked to Daenerys as they continued their small staring competition.

“Looks like it.” She answered, then signaled the widow she and Sansa had made. “It always smelled like spring because of the tree, it was magical.”

Daenerys looked back at Arya and Sansa, she blinked and Arya noticed she had stopped tears from coming down and her suspicions were confirmed. This was no just a house, this was home for her. And it had been taken away from Daenerys.

“Thank you for your help.”

Sansa shook her head but Arya smiled, suddenly hugging her sister’s neck, “Arya!” She said as she loosed her balance and almost fell on Daenery’s face if it wasn’t for her arms rounding them both. The Queen would had fallen into the snow, but Jon had took her shoulder and the weight of the three of them fell on his chest.

For a second, there was only silence, until Daenery’s laugh made Sansa’s came out alive and loud, making her laugh in return, too. It seemed heir laugh became contagious for Jon was laughing, and she could her Gendry’s and a few more, probably from Brienne and Tyrion, and as they were laying on Jon’s body with his hands finally touching Daenerys like she supposed he had been dying to, it started to snow.

“You haven’t see the snow fall before.” Jon said to the Queen. Her eyes were wide open as she was still holding her and Sansa over her chest. She extended one hand to the falling snow and watched as a snowflake became water on her hand, her smile shining like her hair. “It snowed yesterday, you didn’t see?” She only shook her head.

“We were all inside.” Tyrion offered an explanation. “As we should be getting right now, we don’t want to get sick.”

“A bit longer.” Daenerys said, it didn’t sound like an order but a question, like if she was asking an older brother or a father to stay for a while.

“You are not wearing the clothes for this right now.” Jon reminded her and Arya blinked when Daenerys looked up at him. If Jon leaned just enough, they would be locking lips.

Sansa looked at her and they shared the same secret, that Daenerys wasn’t bad and she was becoming a part of Jon they shouldn’t allow him to lose or else, he’ll be miserable for the rest of his life. Her sister smiled at her and Arya leaned her forehead to hers, as she used to do with Jon and Rickon when she had been younger.

“Let’s get going.” She heard Jon said. “And for that, I need you all to stand first.”

Arya smiled at him, they probably looked like pups sleeping one over the other to keep warm. She stood first and offered her hand to Sansa, she took it and they saw as Jon stood and did the same for Daenerys.

This time, they didn’t let of their joined hands.

No one would see it, she thought, since his cape and the way they maintained their union so low would throw away anyone who didn’t look closer. No one was around anyway, and it wasn’t like if all walls of Winterfell knew about them.

“It’s beautiful!” She said as the snow fell around them, Sansa gave a last look to their work and then walked to Bran and Lord Tyrion, getting ready to push their brother inside home. “Just let me see a bit.”

“My Queen, you’ll get ill.” He insisted, but she didn’t listen to him and walked away a few steps. Arya went back to Gendry’s side and nibble at his rib. He moved, looking at her with a frown and she could only laugh at it. “Dany...”

Arya looked up at Jon’s voice calling that name. He was behind the Queen with his cape on his hands, going to her shoulders. She looked back at him, her cheeks looking pink and her hands landing on his arms as she smiled at him.

She wished she could see Jon’s face, but instead she heard Brienne calling at her with a low voice. Sansa and Tyrion were pushing Bran inside, Podrick behind them. Gendry followed and she gave her brother and his Dany at last look before going at his side.

“Boy’s in looooove.” She mocked.

“Hush!” Sansa said, smile could be hear in her voice. “Walls can hear and the wind speaks, and it doesn’t concern us.”

Gendry smiled at her as they walked inside and she felt warm again. Jon had been cold for along time, Arya hoped he felt as she did thanks to Gendry when he looked at Daenerys.

Small Bump

The two of them didn’t fit well enough for this, no matter how much Jon loved his old as dirt Pontiac.

Dany looked up to his face, the way his black curls were already sticking into the skin of his neck almost made her smile, but the heath inside the car, trapped between her legs, distracted her from any coherent thought.

He was still wearing his pants, belt and fly undone, as he opened a condom with his teeth. There was something inexplicably hot about it, Dany swallowed and tried to concentrate her eyes on his mouth as her hands searched for support, sitting even if still between his legs.

Jon Snow’s body was ridiculous.

All his forms were both, hard and soft, always warm and smelling of wood, cologne and cigarettes; to her, it was both, lust and home, all at once. It hadn’t been enough for the Lord to give him a handsome face and oh-so-expressive eyes, he had to have the sharpest abs in history, with the broadest shoulders and strongest arms.

She was sure lucky to have seen all of it for he didn’t let anyone in, his body and heart for no one to touch but her. He smiled at her as he removed his pants slightly alongside his underwear, soon wearing the condom, ready and wanting. His eyes had became impossible darker and she kissed the middle of his chest, slowly going up his body to his neck, his chin and finally his lips.

They kissed hard and foggy, tongues against each other, slowly going down for her to lay over the cushioned backseat of the car, the soft murmur of their kissing and his knees on the material of the seat becoming one with the low music coming from the front stereo.

It’s not like if they planned this when they left their flat this morning, she had just needed him after this week’s bad news. He had hold her in silence first, listening to one of his playlists of old music, back in the solitary spot at Inspiration Point where they kissed for the first time, five years ago.

But right now, he entered her, slowly and easy, making her moan as one of her hands caressed his abdomen and the other squeezed his ass just enough to let him know she wanted him whole, deeper and even harder, although their position didn’t help much with the little space left for their bodies to collide.

He trusted into her slowly a few times before starting to increase the rhythm, eyes closed and mouth hovering over hers, her face and neck. Jon looked at her at least and Dany felt the way the love in them conducted pleasure to her heart and directly to her core, she squeezed him inside her and he smiled wide.

“You are so beautiful...” He murmured, his hand spreading her leg as far as she could, searching for that spot that made her see stars. “So beautiful...”

“Oh… Jon, Jon, there...” She moaned, nails marking his shoulders red like her swollen lips. He kissed her as he rode into her harder, the car moving with their loving with its windows getting foggier.

Outside had been cold when they left their apartment building in the morning, the doctor’s office even colder, but his hands were always somehow hot enough to warm both, her body and heart, and she couldn’t stop holding it as the doctor spoke to them, his words feeling like only directed at her.

He hadn’t say much after, she didn’t cry this time either. Part of Dany just knew it, and it hurt still.

Jon leaned to her lips again, every stroke of his hips making her swallow the lump in her throat better. Sex with him was always about their souls, pleasure just another expression of everything their hearts felt for each other. Even here in the car, even when they just wanted to get the other off, even when it was fast and hard and all kinds of dirty, it was always special with him.

She loved him for that, and so much more. She had married him in happiness, ready for the lower days, knowing they could defeat anything in their way. Even herself.

“Wait, wait...” She murmured, hands gently pushing him off her. Jon blinked a couple of times, harder inside her, confused as hell and she smiled at him. “This is not working, there’s no space.”

“Uh, I-- Okay, let me...” He said, gently moving from over her and her heart felt tinier. Jon was always so good to her, even when she wasn’t frail.

“Jon...” She murmured, he shouldn’t be like that.

Dany’s heart was still full, it hurt for how heavy it was, she felt like ripping it out of her with her own hands, even if it belonged to him. He looked back, still inside her, frowning at the sight of her looking everywhere but at him, one arm over her head, then moving it to cover her eyes.

“Daenerys, hey…” He moved from her and the mood was lost.

She felt her legs dead, the knot in her stomach already on her throat, fighting to find a way out. Jon kept calling her name, asking what he could do as she unsuccessfully tried to hold back the sob coming out her mouth. He said nothing.

His hand landed on the small of her back when she rolled over, naked in all senses, curling into herself. Jon caressed circles on her skin as she silently cried, not sure of what to say for this situation has been killing her since the first visit they gave to the gynecologist after a year trying to conceive.

“There’s--”

“I don’t want to give up.” She announced, voice so small it almost surprised her. Dany wouldn’t blame Jon if he hadn’t hear her, but his hand stopped and the music had been filling both their ears for long seconds before he finally moved.

“Dany...” He was going to protest, she could feel it even if she hadn’t know his tones already. Daenerys sat down, he was looking at her with a worried expression and she hoped he could see in her face not only her determination, but why she needed him to not give up either. “I want it to happen as much as you do,” she nodded, hope raising in her chest, “but,” and just like that it died, a horrified sound left her mouth and he stopped talking. “Dany--”

“Don’t!" She moved away from his touch, looking down to find her clothes but only her bra was visible. Jon must have sent her clothes to the front seats in their need. “Not now... Let’s just go home.”

But he didn’t move. If she had offended him, it wasn’t her intention, just like she was sure it wasn’t his with his words. She understood, she did. He was worried about her and probably didn’t want to get hurt again for the same old wishes. Dany understood, she was hurt, too, but to just give up now…

“Yeah...” He murmured but didn’t do anything to do as said.

Instead he fixed his pants, fly and belt closed again, and Dany swallowed. It was so odd for them to not finish, but she was-- not here.

“Remember when we first talked about this?” He said, taking a look to the front seats to take their clothes with him. He offered her hers and she nodded. “Dany?”

“I do. We fought.”

“No, I don’t mean that. Before we got married, you told me about how you were told it was going to be difficult for you to get pregnant after months of dating and what did I said?”

It had been something out of nowhere, when it happened. Her nutjob of a brother had been bothering her with the truth, filled her head with wronged images of rejection as he always did ever since she was stupid enough to tell him about her physical impediment.

Dany looked up, not sure where Jon was going with this. “Yes, I remember.” She answered, it didn’t answer his last question and she swallowed before giving in. “You said it didn’t matter to you.”

“It still doesn’t.” He reminded her, he moved carefully to face her, offering his hand. She took it, still naked and starting to feel ashamed. “But it’s not about that, isn’t it? Me not caring about it doesn’t change how you feel, and that kills me.” Her face felt warm, but she frowned. “Because there’s nothing I can do about it, Dany. And I hate to see you hurt… nothing has worked until now, and I’m afraid nothing will change.”

“You think it won’t?” She swallowed, not sure if she wanted to hear what he actually wanted to say. “You don’t want to keep trying?”

“Maybe.” He licked his bottom lip, her shoulders felt hot, then cold, both heavy as her back and chest hurt at that. “Not… this.” He tried to explain but his voice sounded far away, her eyes burn and she could feel the tears forming in them. “There are other ways, there are-- Dany. Dany!”

She put a hand up, stopping him from touching her again. Daenerys started to dress, the music kept filling her ears and she preferred that murmur to the rage going through her veins, whispering words of rejection and sadness that sounded too much like Viserys.

Why did she had to still bring him back to her? She had been free of him for a while by now, why was he still in the back of her mind? Dany shook her head, Jon was putting his shirt on and she swallowed.

A part of her knew he was right. They had tried as many things as they could afford and as said today by her doctor, she still couldn’t get pregnant. Her options were becoming lesser and more expensive with each she tried, she couldn’t keep doing this to him and to herself.

“I want a baby...” She said, her voice sounded alien even to herself. Daenerys cleared her throat, now on her underwear. “And I want it to be ours. That’s all I want.” He was looking at her with that frown in his handsome face again, that was the only way he looked at her now and it was killing her.

They had been such a happy couple once. Even the way they met had been happy, out of a movie, like Sansa liked to say. It had been his mother’s birthday that night, the Starks and other friends of his and Lyanna had reunited in the same bar, a large table for the adults and two smaller ones for his cousins and some friends.

She had seen him stand from his table to his mother’s too many times, carrying a big book she later recognized like the karaoke album.

Later that night, he had sang with everyone, included his mother, his beloved cousin Arya, and like four times with Robb. By that last number with Robb, his cousin spotted her in her table with her friends and had singed for her, catching his cousin’s attention so he would do the same.

They had just looked at each other and ever since, she thought him the most handsome boy she had put her eyes on. “I wanna know what love is”, he had sang, “I know you can show me”. She hadn’t expect them to go talk to her after, and Jon had stayed at her table, even with his crew yelling support at him from the distance, making her and the girls laugh.

How could she not see what was to come? That she was going to fall in love with him this hard and this deep, out of nowhere, right when she had decided she was better alone?

It was so easy to laugh and see everything on a better light since they started dating, even to open up had been easier when he had so much to share and nothing to change his mind about her. All her flaws and little scars made her more real to him, and he had loved her all the same. She felt as well for him, but now they were here, in silence, disagreeing on an important matter.

They used to be in sync with the important things, but then she had wanted to become a mother.

“Do you want to have children with me?” She finally asked.

Maybe this was the big mistake, that she never actually asked. Daenerys had shared how much she wanted to have children of her own, and he had nodded along. She couldn’t recall right now a moment when he had said so, his plans for the future before they got married was to buy a house and grow old together, like his uncle Ned with his wife Catelyn.

Jon looked at her, his fingers were interlaced, making a bridge between his legs. It was a sign that he was thoughtful, his cousin Robb and his mother Lyanna did the same thing. His eyes were firm on hers, though. Whatever it was in his mind, was something he was sure of.

“Yes.” He said.

“The we should keep trying.” She concluded.

He nodded. “Yes, I know.” Jon sighed and moved, facing her. “But it’s hurting you.”

“It would hurt me more if we don’t try.”

“But we have tried...” He offered his hand, it still made her feel safe how in moments of tension he never initiated touch without asking first. “A lot.” He said, she finally took his hand and waited for the rest of it. “I think it’s time we consider other options.”

“It’s just...”

If she said it, she was going to be the worst person in the world. If she kept feeling like this, she was letting all the old voices win everything she has been fighting since she was able to notice how fucked most aspects of her surroundings were. But if there was someone that knew her as much as she did herself, that would be Jon.

Jon would be the one to not judge her, even if part of him thought her the ugliest person in the world.

“I wanted to carry it.” She finally said, it was the first time she admitted it out loud. “And it’s not-- I know that not having the chance to conceive doesn’t make me… less or something, but it’s just--” She took a mouthful or air, or maybe courage, and finally looked up at him. “It’s just something I wanted... It makes me sad I can’t.”

Dany wanted to add she knew it made her a terrible person to think like that, that she knew how it sounded and how bad other people who couldn’t see how she was feeling would look at her. Jon didn’t look at her like they did in her head, he tilted his head and sighed, moving his hand to caress her cheek and bringing their foreheads together.

That was when she realized she had been crying, when he took away her tears with his fingers to cradle her face in both his hands. She breathe with him, in and out, until her rhythm was his and her heart felt calmer. When she opened her eyes, he was kissing her forehead and Dany knew it was time to go back to real world.

“I don’t know how to help.” He said, the honesty in his words made her smile. “But… I hope you know you are allowed to feel whatever you are feeling, that includes this. And whenever you are feeling like this, better or worse, I’m always here.”

She nodded.

“Not just nod.” He smiled and hugged her, Dany closed her eyes again and rested her head over his chest, where his heart beat. “I love you.” He said against her hair. “I’ll do anything I can to make you feel better, if--”

He swallowed, she looked up at him slowly with a frown.

“What?”

“Okay, just a suggestion” He said, making circles with his finger over her cheek. “What if we don’t buy the house right now?”

“We’ve been saving for that. For years.”

“Yes, and we are buying it for our kids. Don’t we?”

Daenerys straightened her back, looking at him with surprise. Was he really suggesting to sacrifice his hard work of years for her treatment? She had thought of it, of course she had. But she never thought of voicing it, she knew what it meant. And now that he was mentioning it, she knew what he wanted.

“No.” She smiled at him, shook her head and pecked his lips. “God, no. I know why you are doing this, and I love you so much for being-- the best husband in history, but no.” She sighed, caressing his face with a smile, it was the first time she felt like truly smiling all day. “Jon…”

“So…?”

She nodded. “We have other options, you are right. I’m sorry, it’s you--”

“It’s okay.” He held her again and this time, she hugged him back, feeling lighter. “We have surrogacy… or adoption.”

Dany nodded again, not wanting to think of that right now. She was still in her underwear and he was perfect, he was terrible at Scrabble and other board games, but he was perfect. Even if he didn’t cook. She smiled at him when they looked at each other and Jon kissed her, slowly deepening the kiss until she laughed into their kiss.

“What?”

“Would you kill me if I say I want you right now?”

He chuckle at that, but smiled at her. “I’ll say yes… I think that was the last condom, so… last try, maybe?”

There was a part of her that wanted to laugh, to scream or to cry. Or all three, it wouldn’t surprise her either.

When she left their apartment this morning, she knew what her doctor would tell her, she knew what it meant and how it made her feel. And Dany was glad she had Jon. If she was going to be a mother, there was no one else she wanted to father her children.

She kissed him, then. Knowing it wouldn’t matter if they had preservatives or not, but happy no matter what.

Whatever life throw they way, she could take it with him.