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Chapter Text

 Act One: Emotion

The Climax of 'Magical Menagerie', the fictional TV show from my Modern AU ‘Here Be Dragons’

Jon

He was reliving the Battle for the Dawn, the great northern ice war, the final, desperate attempt to stop the Night King and his army from continuing their deadly march south and destroying the realm.

And it was exhausting.

As a Warg Rider with exceptional sword skills, Jon was effectively having to be two soldiers at once; mentally directing Ghost and his huge pack of wolves and direwolves, whilst also physically fighting as himself; his Varyrian steel blade able to destroy wights and White Walkers alike.

"How can we possibly win this?" he wondered for the hundredth time. Every living fighter who died - human and animal - instantly became turn-coat and fought on the enemy’s side and most of the living soldiers held ordinary weapons which required them to 'kill' their opponents many time over to render them ineffective.

He felt Ghost bite through another wight, and tried to suppress the now familiar nausea as the taste of dead flesh also filled his mouth whilst, at the same time, Longclaw sliced through another in front of his own eyes. Then, to make matters worse, he received a third point of view, Bran choosing that moment to let his brother know what he could see whilst flying high above in a raven.

"Seven Hells!" Jon cursed as he quickly finished off another wight and backed away from the oncoming tide of the dead, trying to get his brain to focus on this new image and see if he could glean any tactical advantage from it.

The dizzying birds-eye view revealed a swarm of white and grey dead, pressing forwards on a mass of darker living humans and their Familiars: Direwolves, shadow cats, bears, foxes and - flying alongside Bran's ravens - crows, owls and eagles. For one terrifying moment Jon's talent became a disadvantage as his Warg brain tried to connect with all of them and see through their eyes too. No wonder his brother was so changed. Spending your life Riding so many different animals would send most people mad and, if this battle continued for much longer, Jon feared his own sanity would be severely tested.

"It’s hopeless," he told Bran through their shared connection. "How can we win this?"

"Hold on a little longer," his brother said. "There is help coming."

"Help? What help could possibly arrive now?"

It has taken years of minor wars, petty squabbling and frantic negotiation to ensure that as many of the northern houses, Wildling tribes and Riders joined their cause. Cersei's horrific Cull at the Rider's school in Old Town had actually worked to their advantage in the end, with numerous southerners rebelling against her and coming to their aid, including her own brothers; Jaime with his Valyrian steel sword and Tyrion with his shadow cat. It was a nervous alliance, likely to cause its own issues further down the line, but at least those two - like many southerners here today - had realised just in time where the true threat to the Realm lie.

Having seen what he needed to through the raven's eyes, Jon pulled his focus back down to the ground and shouted out a few commands, making sure their forces rearranged themselves to the best effect. He had dedicated the last few years of his life to this cause, to convincing as many different types of people as possible to come together to fight, and had gained a level of standing and respect which frankly astounded him. He had always been a reluctant hero - his special ability and destiny a constant weight around his neck - but, if that is what it took to keep the realm safe, then he would gladly accept it, no matter how strange the various honours felt to him.

He was now back focusing on his double battle; fighting the wights with his sword, whilst simultaneously adding his own tactical and fighting skills to Ghost's natural instincts and intelligence. Working through his Familiar, Jon was able to command the great wolf pack too, just as Arya was doing over on the other side of the battlefield through Nymeria. He briefly moved his thought that way, worried about his sister when she did not quite have his level of Riding skill, but, so far, see seemed to be coping well. In front of his own eyes the wights surged forwards again and Jon growled, falling back whilst commanding the wolves to do the same and shouting out instructions to all those around him.

They were losing. It was hopeless. They didn't stand a chance.

"They're coming," Bran said.

"Who are?"

"Look up."

And there high above the battlefield three more winged creatures joined the fray but these were larger by far than any animal currently involved in the battle.

"Dragons!" Someone shouted. "The dragons have returned."

"She is alive then," Jon thought briefly before shaking his head, willing himself to focus on what was going on. The largest one dived first and there was a gasp from all around as he opened his great mouth to breath fire on the wights below and causing Jon to stagger back, able to feel the heat and the wind from the wings even from this distance. As the beast banked, ready for another attack, Jon tried to see if there was an actual rider on his back but he appeared to be here on his own. Someone powerful must be Riding his mind then and, if that person was not physically close, then it hinted at a Warg ability very much like his own.

As the largest dragon focused on the rear of the wight army, the two smaller ones came down on the flanks, apparently sizing up the situation below them. Jon guessed that they were controlled via the black beast, as his wolf pack was controlled through Ghost, but, when it became obvious that their fire would not be able to distinguish between friend and foe, the pair moved to the front of the living army's line and hovered there, holding their flame and waiting. Jon then felt a push on his mind and the vague sense of powerful communication, frowning as he tried to interpret the instruction before realising that it was actually pretty obvious.

"Back!” he yelled at his troops. “Fall right back, quickly and run! Unless you wish to be roasted alive!"

He was fairly certain Ghost would have got the message but repeated it internally anyway, asking his Familiar to pass it onto his sister too. This would only work if the dragons could focus their efforts entirely on the dead.

Necessity dictated that Jon remained near the front as he continue to yell and urge the soldiers and animals to retreat. And then the green dragon landed right next to him, his neck swaying side to side as he obviously geared up to flame the approaching wights.

"Hold!" Jon called out instinctively and the dragon abruptly stopped his movement, snapping his neck around to confront the small human who had dared to command him. Jon swallowed hard as a long muzzle and curious eyes stared at him and then staggered as he felt the great beast briefly in his mind. A dragon! He was a breath away from Riding a dragon. He could almost sense it. If he could just ...

He pulled his mind back sharply, knowing now was not the time to be tempted or distracted. What he could though was perhaps reassure the creature and his Rider that he knew what he was doing.

"I am the commander here," he said. "Ready?" And, in his head, he let the dragon know what he had in mind; for him, the green one, to move further to the left, the white one to move to the right and then their leader could come from the north and herd them all into the centre.

'Understood.'

Jon fell to his knees in shock at the strange and powerful communication. It was somehow both incredibly faint and deafeningly loud, the words rushing through his head and vibrating through his body. It was the odd sensation of this dragon communicating with the lead dragon talking to ... his Rider probably. Jon nodded, understanding that it was akin to his regular communications with Bran and yet ravens, for all their intelligence, were not dragons and this experience was ... intoxicating. He hauled himself back up to his feet, turned to run a little further away and then shouted his command both verbally and in his head.

"Now!"

He continued to run as he felt the heat sear at his back and heard a sound behind him which was half-explosion and half-flood from the melted snow and, the next moment, he was flying through the air from the force of it. As he landed heavily in the snow, part of his mind continued to soar high above, breathing flame on the wights to destroy them and, on touching that great mind, he felt something else. Something thrilling.

Despite the violence and anger in the dragon's head, Jon could sense something soft and warm and ... He soaked up the sensations - breathed them, tasted them, drowned in them - and the intensity of it all was overwhelming.

Home. Family. Love.

~o~0~o~

Jon gasped, sitting up in bed, breathing in blessed cold air, feeling both fear from the battle he'd just relived and very real grief at the loss of the intense emotions he’d experienced when he’d touched minds with the dragons.

"Your Grace, are you well?"

He blinked to see Davos standing by his bed and looking concerned. "Yes ... nightmare ... again," he gasped.

"The battle?" Jon nodded. "Not surprising, but it's over now. We won." Davos handed him a horn and he knocked the liquid back in one gulp.

"I know."

"I'm sorry to wake you so early but young Lord Stark's birds have seen a party approaching and Lady Sansa needs you there when they arrive."

He nodded, hauling himself out of bed. "Do we know who it is?"

"I suspect your brother does but, as usual, he is not exactly being generous when it comes to sharing information."

Jon scoffed as he moved to dress. "Aye, nothing new there then. Tell them both I'll be there shortly."

Winterfell

The Stark family waited for their guests in the Great Hall, as the winter weather was still too unpleasant for greetings to take place in the courtyard. Jon took his customary position by the side wall, a dark shadow against grey stone, trying not to draw attention to himself, whilst his half-brother and sisters sat at the head table.

"Queen Sansa of House Stark," Davos announced. "Her Rider-Hand, Brandon Stark and her sister Arya Stark."

"And I am Tyrion Lannister as most of you know," the dwarf said. "My party and I have come here to discuss our mutual needs and to possibly join your rebellion against the south and its queen." His speech was greeted by a brief, shocked silence.

"You’ll forgive me if I appear sceptical, Lord Tyrion," Sansa said eventually. "But, last I heard, you were travelling to King’s Landing to rejoin your sister, and yet you now appear in my Hall with this ragtag group and claim to be on our side?"

"I fought for you in the Battle for the Dawn, your Grace,” he replied. “I Rode my shadow cat into that battle against the Night King." He looked around the Hall, his gaze briefly falling on Jon, a small frown on his face. "I recognise many of you here today and I'm sure that you all know me."

"We certainly appreciated you and your fellow southerners joining our cause two years ago," Sansa continued. "But we also remember the conditions you laid before us at the time. You said then that you would help us defeat the dead, despite Cersei's indifference to our plight, but could not fully ally yourself with us nor give your support to our independence claim."

Tyrion winced. "All of that is true however, as I was returning home, I discovered what my sister had in store for me after the part I played in your war, and her plans for the south in general and … well, after hearing that, I decided to reconsider my position."

Jon frowned, distracted for more than one reason. Just like his sister, he did not believe Tyrion was being entirely truthful here and the fact that he had not introduced any of his party, all of whom were well bundled up in cloaks and head coverings, was concerning him. In addition, Ghost was prowling the Wolfswood - jittery about something he could smell out there - and his Familiar’s confused emotions were also playing on Jon’s nerves.

“Can you tell if there are any Riders here?” he asked Bran via their Familars. Sensing Riders from a distance was a rare skill and something not even a powerful Warg like Jon was able to do, but then his brother was something of an exception in more ways than one.

“Yes,” the younger man replied. “There are four others here in addition to Tyrion.”

That their guest had chosen not to introduce such talent amongst his party was further proof to Jon that he was right to distrust this situation and it appeared that his sister felt much the same.

"I hope you can understand my scepticism," Sansa was saying. "Our father died whilst in King’s Landing, our brother Robb during the Citadel Rebellion and many other friends and trainee Riders also fell victim to your sister’s Cull. And yet, despite being a tutor at the school, you’ve somehow managed to survive unscathed?"

"A great deal of people survived in one way or another," Tryion countered. "Although, unscathed? I would certainly debate your choice of word in this case.” He sighed. “It's true that those who openly objected to my father's plans for the Citadel were far more likely to be targeted but his reaction to the rebellion and my sister’s subsequent Cull are the reasons I left my position there. A school is no place for the vicious politics of the Realm to be played out. In that you and I are in full agreement."

Jon quietly bristled, his fists clenching and unclenching by his side. It was at times like this that he hated playing the shadow and denying his true role here. He desperately wanted to step forward, call Tyrion out and demand the truth of the situation.

"Now is not the time."

Bran's calm voice did little to settle him and so Jon distracted himself briefly by searching out Ghost. His Familiar seemed calmer now although still not quite his normal self, dwelling on something that Jon found hard to grasp, distracted as he currently was. Over at the head table Sansa was consulting with Bran and Arya in quiet whispers before nodding her head subtly and turning her attention back to the visiting party.

“You must all be tired after your long and cold journey,” she said. “Please accept my hospitality and allow us to escort you to the Guest House.” She turned her head and nodded to Jon who copied the gesture, acknowledging her silent request. “I hope you understand that we will need to place guards around the building for the time being. Just until the full nature of our alliance has been decided upon?”

Tryrion nodded his head. “A wise and understandable precaution, your Grace.”

Jon stepped forward then, one hand on Longclaw, working hard to keep his mind away from Ghost and focus fully on the foreign party in front of him. “This way, please,” he said, waiting for them to follow him before leading them out of the keep.

“Jon Snow,” Tyrion said, moving alongside him. “I remember you from when I was last here, of course. One of the true heroes of the Battle of the Dawn.”

He pulled a face. “I don’t know about that. I played my small part as did we all.”

“Ah, a modest Rider,” Tyrion continued with a sly smile. “A rare breed, but I certainly understand why you were chosen as our guard. A man with your ... dual abilities must be of great use to Queen Sansa?”

Jon just shrugged in response. His modesty here was a necessity, as Sansa and Bran did not wish their guests to know his true status or that he was a Warg - a strong Rider with a number of additional abilities - hoping to be dismissed by their guests as a common soldier and perhaps gain some extra information in the process.

“Here is the Guest House,” Jon said. “I’m sure you’ll find everything here you need but just ask the guards if you require anything more. You are honoured visitors here, despite the security, and Queen Sansa wishes to make your stay a comfortable one.”

“Thank you,” Tyrion said as Jon stepped to one side to let them all through.

He watched them closely as the party filed past, trying to get some measure of this odd little group despite their cloaks and head coverings. A number of darker hands and faces hinted at an Essos background for some and Jon felt he was also able to identify the military within the party; their confident and poised strides a dead give away. Near the back a smaller figure was approaching wearing trousers, but Jon’s initial guess of a boy almost grown was quickly proven wrong as a pale head was raised to reveal light eyes and the most beautiful face he had ever seen. He gaped at the sight of her and the young woman stared back, her lips parting slightly in surprise as she looked at him. Then she tipped her head and smirked, amused at his gawking, and the illusion was quickly shattered.

‘Focus, Jon,’ he scolded himself. He could not let a pretty face distract him, especially considering the uncertainty surrounding these potential new allies.

The others had moved on but the girl had not. She was still staring at him curiously, numerous emotions playing across her features, most of which Jon was quite unable to interpret.

“Is there something you need?” he asked, looking back towards the Guest House to see Tyrion hover for a moment before heading back inside with a shake of the head. Jon turned back to find the girl still looking at him intently.

“I was just wondering if we’ve met before?” she asked.

“You do seem a little familiar,” he replied, “But I’ve spent most of my life here in the north so unless you’ve ever travelled up this far ..?” She shook her head. “Unlikely then.”

“So, you’ve been pledged to the Starks all your life?” she asked.

“Pledged?” He tried not to let his amusement show. “One way of putting it, I suppose.”

She nodded down at his sword. “Sorry if I misunderstood but you look quite the soldier and I thought I overheard Tyrion saying something about the Battle for the Dawn?”

“I fought in it, aye,” he replied simply, unable to look at her, still trying to act as if he were not important. Not only did he need to do so for these negotiations but it had become something of a habit anyway from years of living in Robb’s shadow. Despite having a more natural Riding ability than his brother, and with his sword skills almost as good, Jon had quickly learnt that it was easier to hide his talents, seeing as Lady Catelyn would never have acknowledged them even if she had been fully aware. And Lord Stark had always walked a nervous line when it came to his bastard son, wanting him to be raised in Winterfell but knowing how much it hurt his wife when Jon drew attention to himself.

“And you survived,” the girl continued, “which I suppose is why you were chosen for this role.”

Jon frowned, trying to work out why she was still here questioning him and what exactly she was trying to glean. “Role?”

“You escorted us over here all by yourself. No extra security?”

Jon raised an eyebrow, wondering what she was implying. “Do we need extra security?”

She smirked again, tipping her head as she studied him, and her light-eyed gaze was making him nervous and also very slightly dizzy. She had just been one of the crowd - someone he hadn’t even noticed in the Hall - and yet now she had his full attention and not just because of how beautiful she was. Who was she? Her determination to remain out here to question him, along with an odd nagging feeling in the back of his mind, was making him suspect her to be one of the Riders that Bran had sensed in the Hall, although he wouldn’t be able to tell for certain unless they touched.

A loud cough from the Guest House had both of them turning around. “Are you coming in or not?” Tyrion asked the girl.

“Of course,” she replied calmly, but Jon noticed the faintest flash of annoyance pass over her features at the summons. “I’ll be right there.” She smiled brightly at Jon, although it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I shouldn’t keep you from your duties. It was nice talking to you.”

He nodded his head a little deeper than required, playing the subservient role that she seemed to believe him to hold. “I hope you find the accommodations satisfactory, m’lady.”

~o~0~o~

“Well?” Sansa asked Jon as he walked into the small solar they used as their private meeting room.

“Two thirds of them seem to be from Essos, I counted five with obvious military bearing and Bran sensed four Riders in addition to Tyrion?”

Their brother nodded. “Even I cannot tell how powerful without getting closer.”

“Tyrion knows I’m a Rider, of course, if not the exact nature of my ability, and one young lady started questioning me quite vigorously which made me worry that she might have guessed too.” Arya giggled. “What?”

“Perhaps it wasn’t information she was after?” she suggested with a smirk.

He glared at her. “Behave, child. Whatever her intentions, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she was one of the ones Bran sensed.”

“Hmm, I’d love to feel cross with Tyrion for not introducing his fellow Riders,” Sansa said, “but then we’re not being entirely open about the talent we have here either, are we?”

“I suppose it’s only to be expected that each side will try to hold onto their advantages in such a situation,” Jon said. “All I can say is that any secrets that they are keeping are making me exceptionally nervous.”

“Well, you know I’ll trust your instincts on this, Jon. Yours and Bran’s.” Sansa frowned, looking pensive. “’Join your rebellion,’ Tyrion said. What can he possibly have heard to make him think that that is what we are planning?”

“I suppose he’s just assuming that us wishing to keep our independence means we mean to make war on the south,” Jon replied.

“Well, you know my thoughts on that,” Arya grumbled.

Jon shook his head. “I do, but we don’t have the numbers for such a fight and no-one up here has the inclination after everything that happened two years ago anyway. The Neck helps keep us isolated and our bird Riders down there can let us know if we’re going to be attacked.” He shrugged. “I just don’t see any reason to make things more complicated right now.”

“I know,” Arya said with a sigh. “But I still think we‘re going to have to deal with Cersei eventually. Once she realises who’s really in charge up here and what our long term plans are, you can be certain she won’t just sit down there and let us get on with it.”

Jon pulled a face. “That’s true, but that’s even more reason why we need to be careful during these initial discussions. We cannot yet take the chance that our new ‘allies’ will end up pushing us into the very conflict we’ve been working so hard to avoid.”

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Mood Board by ashleyfanfic

Daenerys

“Urgh, I’m exhausted,” Daenerys complained, collapsing down on a chair in the Winterfell Guest House and pulling off the head scarf which had been covering her distinctive silver hair. “My feet are so sore.”

“Now you see what the rest of us have to deal with, your Grace,” Tyrion countered. “Those of us who can’t ride around everywhere on a dragon.”

“Drogon is most put out,” she said. “He’s out in that Wolfswood complaining about the cold and the strange northern trees, and is seriously contemplating direwolf for supper.”

“I’d dissuade him, if I were you,” Tyrion said with a grin. “It would not help our negotiations if he ate one of the Starks’ Familiars.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know, and he wouldn’t attack a bonded animal anyway. He’s just unhappy about their howling, I think, as well as grumbling about ‘the wrong blood’?”

Tyrion nodded. “Familiars often find it hard to adapt to a new environment, especially one that is so different from where they come from.”

She nodded. “That is true.”

“So, what is your opinion of our hosts?” Tyrion asked.

“A dour, sombre lot,” she replied, stretching herself back on the chair. “Although I’m mildly impressed with Sansa Stark. Is it a requirement nowadays for queens to have unusual coloured hair, do you think?”

He laughed. “Quite a rainbow the three of you make; red, yellow and silver.”

“Huh. What about you, Tyrion? What did you think of them? They did seem especially suspicious of us.”

“Well, I’ve met many of them before, of course, but northerners have always been historically wary of those from the south and then, of course, my dear family had to make matters even worse. How we will ever get the realm to reunite now … I have no idea.”

Dany shrugged, exhaustion warring with frustration. “Perhaps we should tell them who I am then? If they learn of my history and what I discovered in Essos, it might help them to trust us.”

He shook his head. “You’re still a southerner and, unfortunately, my sister’s lies regarding your disappearance had enough truth in them to be harmful to our cause. Your dragons’ appearance at the battle certainly got the Starks’ attention but I’m curious as to what their thoughts are now two years after the fact.”

She nodded, thoughtfully. “So was that what you were talking about with that soldier?” 

“Soldier?”

“The one who escorted us over.”

He regarded her closely, his eyes sparkling. “The one you were flirting with?”

“I was not!”

Tyrion grinned. “His name is Jon Snow and he’s Ned Stark’s bastard.”

“Oh.”

Perhaps that was why he seemed familiar. She had met his brother at school, after all. Then she winced, thinking about how she had spoken to the man out there and realising that, even as a bastard, his status was considerably higher than the mere foot soldier she had believed him to be.

“I do not know this word,” Grey Worm said then. “Bastard?”

“Yeah, not a concept that is understood in Essos,” Dany said. “They have formal marriages here in Westeros you see and any child who is not born within this marriage is considered to be of far lower status. They’re even given the name of their region rather than that of their parents’. Snow, you see. Of the north.”

“That is … most odd.”

“From what I understand, Jon was treated far better than many bastards in Westeros,” Tyrion continued, “but the boy certainly has had an interesting history. I did not actually see him fight during the Battle for the Dawn but I ... heard stories.”

“Oh?” Daenerys asked.

Tyrion turned and smirked at her. “Why all these questions about Jon Snow?”

She pulled a face. “I was just trying to figure out why only he escorted us over. It seemed a bit of a big responsibility for someone so young, that’s all.”

“Yes, of course that’s the reason,” Tyrion said, knowingly. “Nothing at all to do with being handsome and brooding and mysterious.”

Next to her Missandei giggled and Dany glared, first at her friend and then at Tyrion. “Am I not allowed to be curious?”

“Certainly, but please try not to get distracted. The Starks once had a reputation for being soft and easily manipulated but my family’s determination to bring them to heel ended up having the opposite effect. Father, mother, eldest and youngest brother all killed directly or indirectly by Lannisters and what was the result of that? A powerful family full of talented Riders who played key roles in the Battle for the Dawn.”

Dany scoffed. “My dragons were the deciding factor in that war.”

“That may be true, but we’re keeping that information to ourselves for now, remember?”

She sighed. “Yeah, I know. Low profile.”

“Good,” Tyrion said. “I promise it won’t be for long but let’s start talking about tomorrow’s meeting and what we need to say to help convince these stubborn Starks to join our cause.”

~o~0~o~

“Perhaps you shouldn’t come along today,” Tyrion suggested to Daenerys the following morning as they all finished their food.

“That is not going to happen,” she countered. “I am actually the one in charge here, in case you’ve forgotten, and so I need to see and hear all of this for myself.”

“I’ll pay particular attention to her head scarf, Lord Tyrion,” Missandei reassured him. No one will be able to see her hair, I promise.”

“Very well. Just three to attend this meeting plus one guard, Queen Sansa said, which means you, me and Varys then, with Grey Worm?”

Daenerys nodded her agreement, quickly turning back towards her friend so she could make the final adjustments to her outfit. When she’d been in Westeros as a girl she had usually worn trousers, as it was considerably more practical for clambering onto her beloved Drogon - no bigger than a horse in those days - or for running around with friends. She would wear dresses for special occasions back then but, whilst in exile in Essos, she had fully embraced her feminine side; delighting in the silks and ribbons and enjoying just how much attention her maturing female figure had been able to get her.

But now she was back in plain trousers and shirt, well covered by a large, nondescript beige wrap-around cloak and with her hair carefully hidden under a matching headscarf. Fairly tanned after years spend overseas, it was really only her eyes that would mark her out as different from most of those she was currently travelling with.

Jon Snow met them at the front door of the Guest House again, giving Tyrion a nod and a half-smile of acknowledgement, his gaze skimmed quickly over Varys and Grey Worm before finally landing on her. His dark eyes held hers again and Dany felt both amusement at the young man’s obvious attraction to her and a deep thrill as her own body responded in kind. Tyrion had not been wrong, he was incredibly handsome with dark eyes and dark hair which fell in curls to his neck and she was quite unable to prevent herself from staring back. Finally he appeared to shake himself, turning to lead the small party across the courtyard and Dany struggled to move her gaze away as she admired his elegant stride across the courtyard. Then they were back into the main Keep and up one flight of spiral stairs before their escort opened an age-darkened, wooden door and escorted them into a medium sized room where the Starks were waiting for them around a sturdy table. Greyworm took his silent place on one side of the door and Jon, with a quick glance at the darker man, mirrored him on the other.

Sansa was the tallest of those now around the table although Dany didn’t feel as small as she usually did, with both Tyrion and Arya shorter and Bran having remained seated. It was only now she was closer that she saw that the young man’s chair had wheels and guessed that he couldn’t walk. She had a flash of memory then - of something Robb had said about his brother when they were studying at the Citadel together - but it was far too long ago and she had to admit that she hadn’t been paying that much attention at the time.

Sansa and Tyrion then made the introductions with Dany having decided to take Missandei’s name and play the part of scribe here, giving her the excuse to not openly contribute to the discussions and keep her head down.

“So, Lord Tyrion, please tell us more about why you have come all this way to visit us,” Sansa asked in a far more polite tone than the one she’d used yesterday. “Because I’m quite sure it wasn’t for our climate.”

He smiled politely at the light-hearted comment. “To seek an alliance, as I said before, your Grace, and to join you in any campaign you may wish to wage on the south.”

Arya scoffed. “You can’t possibly expect us to believe and trust you so quickly that we would admit to such a thing at this point in time.”

Tryion frowned slightly. “You have been loudly claiming your independence for years now and so it is generally assumed that such a conflict is inevitable.”

“Those in the south may very well believe that,” Sansa said, “but they have been misinformed. We have no desire to march on the capital, Lord Tyrion. Cersei is welcome to King’s Landing and the Citadel. We want only to be left alone.”

“And do what?” Tyrion asked

“Live,” Sansa replied. “Just that. Live our lives without interference from the south. Nothing more.”

Dany frowned, jotting down a couple of questions as she tried to re-evaluate everything she thought she knew about the north. All she had heard growing up was of how such rebels threatened everything the south held dear - bearded barbarians making war for the sake of it. Uncouth, uncivilised. This was the main reason she had come up here, assuming them to be enthusiastic and war-hungry allies for her cause and so Sansa’s comment here was confusing and completely unexpected.

“But what of Oldtown?” Tyrion asked. “What of the Citadel? How can you turn your back on your fellow Riders’ plight?”

Sansa frowned, glancing briefly at her siblings. “I am the only one here who trained in Oldtown and that education was cut short due to the death of my Familiar.”

“I understand,” Tyrion said gently. “You were not able to connect to another animal afterwards?”

“No, I am a Sleeper,” she confirmed. “As is your sister, I understand?”

“Yes, and so I have small understanding of how upsetting that can be.”

The northern queen’s expression hardened. “No-one can truly understand unless they have experienced it, Lord Tyrion, but my siblings, you see, had no need to travel south for their training.”

“Yes, I hear you are a rare Warg,” Tyrion said, turning his attention to Bran. “A child Rider with no need to be trained at all?”

“It is true I had a natural talent,” the young man replied, “although I did have training to realise my full potential, of course.”

“From Wildlings?”

“Yes.”

“They have knowledge that has been lost to the Citadel,” Arya explained, “and so, once my father fully understood the corruption in Oldtown and the way the young Riders were being used down there, he ensured that I was sent elsewhere to train too.”

“Not north of the Wall?”

She shook her head. “No, I studied in Bravos.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes on hearing this and Daenerys winced at both her Hand’s reaction and at the Starks’ silent response to it. She too had grown up with the idea that the Citadel was the only true place to study the Art but her time spent with Riders in Essos had helped her understand that she had been misled about this as well. The so-called primitive cultures had knowledge that even a natural born Warg like herself had been stunned by. If Bran and Arya had had that sort of training then perhaps the Starks really were worthy allies for her.

“So you see, we have no need to concern ourselves with the south,” Sansa continued. “Not now we have full control of the north and the threat from the Night King is over.”

Tyrion nodded. “I see, yes, and I can hardly blame you for wanting peace and quiet after everything you’ve been through. Nice and safe and never mind the suffering of the small folk down south?”

Sansa stood up abruptly, her arms braced on the table and Dany became aware of a movement out of the corner of her eye, turning her head slightly to see that Jon had moved forwards too, a hand on the white pommel of his sword and his dark eyes blazing. The shudder that ran through her body on seeing his glare was not entirely due to fear.

“That is unfair!” The queen’s eyes flashed and the fact she did not raise her voice did little to hide her anger. “You know what we have suffered. What we have lost. You more than anyone whose family was responsible for most of it.”

Tyrion raised his hands. “A low blow and I sincerely apologise for it. As a tutor at the Citadel the loss of so many young lives affected me greatly. Lives that were supposedly mine to nurture and protect so you’ll forgive me if I get a little emotional about such things too. I can never forgive my sister for what she did that day and will do everything in my power to ensure that her power is taken away so she can no longer do harm to Riders, small folk or anyone else who disagrees with her point of view.”

Sansa stared at him for a long time before finally nodding and sitting back down. “I accept your apology. The history our two families have with each other makes it hard for us to fully trust one another, I know.” Daenerys breathed out.

“So, it was your intention to come here and what, Lord Tyrion?” Arya asked. “You want us to help wage war on your sister? How? We do not have the numbers for such a battle. We lost a lot of fighters in the Battle for the Dawn and many who did survive were, like yourself, here as temporary allies and with no intention to fight against Cersei.”

“Your numbers are relatively small, it’s true,” he agreed, “but I have other … alliances that can help with that. Mostly I just wished to come here to get a measure of the northern feeling towards the south and see if you would play some small part in our campaign, just as we did for yours.”

“What other alliances?” Arya asked.

Tyrion laughed. “Not so fast, little wolf. We don’t fully trust each other yet, remember?”

“You certainly have me intrigued,” Sansa admitted, “but it looks like we all need rather more assurances from one another before we can continue with these discussions.” She stood, nodding. “Your people are free to move around the castle, Lord Tyrion but I ask that you all stay within the walls during your visit and keep your Familars outside. Bran is a powerful Warg, as you know, and so will be aware if any Rider or animal breaks that restriction.”

Tyrion lowered himself off the chair to the floor and Dany and Varys stood, following his lead. “As you say, your Grace. I thank you for your continued hospitality.”

“Until tomorrow morning then.”

Despite the change of rules, Jon started to walk back with them again, although the young man’s demeanour did seem rather more relaxed as he exchanged a few words with Tyrion, their voices far too quiet and low for Dany to hear. Once the Guest House came into view, he turned to face the way he came, ready to head back and she raised her head, unable to resist catching his eye again. Tyrion saw the move and rolled his eyes dramatically before heading back to their accommodation, whilst Grey Worm paused briefly, obviously torn as to whether he should stay close to protect her. Daenerys subtly shook her head at him, not wanting attention drawn to her, and then turned back to face Jon.

He looked at her curiously. “Yes?”

“Attending an important meeting? Escorting a whole foreign party with no back up?”

He stared at her quizzically. “I hold the Starks’ trust in such matters.”

“Do you?”

He frowned. “What about you? You sound Westerosi, despite your clothes and companions. I wonder how you come to be here with Lord Tyrion and his … interesting little following.”

“Interesting?” She smiled. “Are we?”

He smirked slightly. “I’d say so.”

“I have lived some years in Essos but, you’re right, I did grow up over here.”

“Whereabouts?”

“I was born on Dragonstone, in fact.”

“Oh? I see.”

There was a long pause and yet Jon’s gaze never left hers and she seemed quite unable to take her eyes off him either. She had no idea why she found this man quite so fascinating. A bastard soldier. No-one of importance and yet …

“Did you-”
“I just-”

They both spoke at the same time and then smiled slightly. Daenerys nodded at him. “Go ahead.”

“You said before that I seemed familiar and yet you’ve never been this far north before?” he asked.

“You feel like you recognise me too?” He nodded. “I haven’t and have you travelled south?”

“No further than The Neck,” he replied.

When Tyrion had explained that Jon was related to the Starks, Dany had assumed she had recognised something of Robb in the young man but, now she was closer, she realised there was little in his looks to connect him with his half-brother. And then she remembered what her Hand had said about the family having many skilled Riders in it and wondered if that might answer her question. She knew how to tell, of course, and her own very great talent would help keep her ability hidden from him. A gamble, perhaps, but worth if if she could find out the truth of the matter.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” she asked, holding out her hand whilst trying hard to keep her face as relaxed as possible.

“Jon Snow,” he said, automatically returning the gesture.

Then their hands made contact and Daenerys’ whole world was turned upside down.

She was used to the subtle sensation of touching another Rider. It was a small thing, a mere tickle, accompanied by the faintest whisper deep in ones mind, but she had never experienced anything like this before; the rush of warmth through her hand, a roar of sound like a wave crashing over her mind, and a surge through her body that felt almost sexual. She reeled on the spot, her hand still held in Jon’s and he was gaping at her, pupils so wide that his eyes appeared black, his breathing ragged.

“It’s you,” he gasped. “I … know you, I …” He swallowed hard and looked down at his hand, still holding hers, frowning at it.

Daenerys might not have ever experienced this before but she instinctively understood what it meant. He wasn’t just a Rider, he was another rare Warg like her. His expression as he gazed at her was now half wonder and half fear and it was only then that Dany realised what her curiosity had cost her cause. They had both been trying to hide what they were from the other side during these early negotiations and now both of their covers had been blown. Jon Snow was not just some bastard turned soldier and he now knew that she was considerably more than some ragged refugee.

‘It’s you,’ he had said. Had he guessed who she was or was it more than that? She blinked as she remembered the vague sense of the battle she had received through Drogon two years ago. A strong Rider who had had the gall to direct her Familiar and had even managed to touch Rhaegal’s mind. Was this him?

They hadn’t moved. Dany had no idea how long the two of them had been standing there in the the middle of the courtyard, frozen in the act of a hand shake that had not even been started. The sensations had not lessened and she realised that she did not want to let go of his hand because it would mean the loss of this strange warmth, this delightful connection, this feeling of floating on water and … something else. Something thrilling.

When Jon did start to slowly pull away Dany opened her fingers wide in an attempt to hold onto the sensation for as long as she was able, he copied her and, before she had realised what was happening, they had closed their hands around each other again, fingers now entwined. People were approaching and so Jon moved closer, lowering their joined hands so their intimacy was not quite so obvious to any who might be looking their way.

“This is madness,” he said, still frowning at their hands as if wondering why they were still joined.

“Yes,” she agreed, her voice a whisper.

“So, what now?”

She shook her head. “We … we should go.”

Jon looked down at their hands and swallowed hard. “Aye.” And yet he made no further move to untangle their fingers.

She frowned. “I should never have offered my hand.”

“So, why did you?”

“Curiosity?”

“And now?”

She found her resolve then, looking back at those eyes, and willing herself not to melt into them. She lifted her chin defiantly. “Now I need to go back and talk to Tyrion about this.”

His soft gaze hardened abruptly. “Go on then. I’d better get back to my siblings.”

She glared at Jon in return, wondering if there was any way to persuade him to keep her secret. She briefly debated using this strange attraction as a means of seducing him but had no idea of how to go about such a thing. This connection they shared was powerful, it was true, but she did not know this man nor have any idea about what motivated him or who he really was. Her gaze dropped briefly from his eyes to his lips and she licked her own as she suddenly, inexplicably, wondered what it might feel like to kiss him.

“Gods, don’t do that,” he complained, finally pulling his hand out of hers, and any brief victory she felt on having managed to so easily unnerve him disappeared as a wave of disappointment overcame her at the loss of his touch.

Jon hadn’t even walked away from her, his gaze still on her and her own grief and frustration reflected in his eyes too. The pair continued to stare at each other for a long time before he finally managed to find the will to move, nodding his head in an almost bow before turning to stride away and Dany’s gaze followed him, her heartbeat now pounding in her ears.

Jon Snow had just made her whole Winterfell campaign considerably more complicated.

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Jon

Jon strode back into the meeting room, feeling as if he’d just run the whole way. His breathing was heavy, his eyes wild and all the pent up tension resulted in him shoving the door far too hard and slamming it against the wall.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Arya asked.

“I ...” He swallowed hard. “There’s a problem. I met ...” He paused, struggling to find the words.

“Jon?” Sansa pushed.

“They have ...” Why was he feeling guilty for what he was about to say? He couldn’t believe he was even debating lying for her. “They have a Warg. The girl who was taking notes at the meeting.”

“What? Are you sure?” Sansa asked. “How can you tell? I thought only Bran had that ability.”

“She came up to introduce herself and offered her hand for me to shake. I didn’t really think about it and just took it automatically.”

“Touching hands, yes,” Bran said, unemotionally. “That is the easiest way for us to identify each other.”

“But how do you know she’s not just a common Rider?” Sansa pushed.

Jon shrugged. “I just … know. Well I know how it feels connecting to Bran, of course, although this was …” He stopped, shaking his head, trying to get his thoughts together. His brother was probably the most powerful Rider living - far more able than he was - and this girl definitely wasn’t that strong, and yet something about their interaction had felt more powerful and Jon was nervous about trying to identify the reason.

“Does she know what you are?” Arya asked.

Jon nodded. “She does. The ability goes both ways, I’m afraid.”

Sansa sighed. “That is a shame, but I suppose we weren’t going to be able to hide you for long and at least this evens things out. They can hardly accuse us of keeping secrets if they’ve been doing the same.”

Jon frowned, trying to work out whether to tell his siblings who he thought this girl might be. He wasn’t certain, after all, and so perhaps it was best not to share his suspicions yet. He tried hard not to dwell on the fact that his reluctance was personal, mostly because he had no idea how he felt about ... anything regarding her right now.

“Do you think we need to do anything with this information now?” Arya asked. “I mean, is it worth calling an extra meeting?”

“I see no reason for that,” Sansa replied. “Not unless they request it. Let’s just see how it all plays out tomorrow.”

~o~0~o~

Jon walked back down the spiral stairs of the Keep, still battling with his emotions. He felt guilty about not being entirely truthful with his siblings and yet equally guilty for having told them about the girl being a Warg in the first place. In an attempt to feel better about the situation, he thought about her initial smirk on meeting him and the way he was certain she had been teasing him earlier. He was sure she had deliberately licked her lips when she looked at him and even the memory of it had Jon groaning in frustration. She was just so beautiful and if he was right about who she was …

He walked out of the Keep and stopped abruptly, jaw dropping as he found himself face to face with the lady in question. He abruptly closed his mouth and scowled at her.

“What are you doing here?”

She tipped her head slightly, looking at him curiously. “You said you were going to see your siblings so I thought I’d wait here for you to come back out again.”

“You didn’t go to talk to Tyrion?”

She laughed. “Well, of course I did. I certainly wasn’t going to keep that piece of interesting news from him, but I did hope that I might catch you afterwards and, well, here we are again.”

She certainly seemed a lot less conflicted about all of this than he was. Jon looked around to see if anyone was close by before inviting her to follow him with a tip of his head, not especially keen for people to see them together considering the nervous nature of their alliance.

“And so, what can I do for you?” he asked as they walked.

“I just thought we should talk about … earlier.”

He sighed loudly. “I’m not sure what that is going to accomplish.”

“Well, I’ve never met another Warg before, you see, and then I come to Winterfell and there’s two of you.” Her tone was different now; less teasing and more excited. “I just … I don’t know. I want to know what it was like for you growing up, I suppose, because it was always so strange for me.”

They had now reached a sheltered walkway and Jon paused here, deciding this was a private enough place for the time being. He forced himself to look at her then, still not entirely trusting her, but deciding that there was no harm in answering her question, seeing how much she had already worked out.

“I didn’t know I was a Warg until I went beyond the Wall,” he began. “No-one here even suspected such a thing, and my low status helped with that to a certain extent. I was actually the one who connected with a young direwolf while out hunting with my brother Robb, and then the rest of the litter followed that pup, following me, and they all bonded with my siblings when we arrived back here.” He shrugged. “Lady Catelyn was so delighted that her children were all potential Riders and could attend the Citadel that she decided to ignore the skills that I might have and she certainly didn’t think I should have the honour of attending such a prestigious school.” He shrugged. “Suited me fine. I’m used to not being important.”

“But you were important,” she said, frowning. “You are important.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t think so when we first met.”

“I was wrong.” She smirked. “Doesn’t happen that often but … there you go.”

He chuckled at this, stunned how easily she seemed to manage to make him drop his guard, but then their eyes locked again and his smile fell as he rediscovered their earlier connection; partially like his bond with Ghost, a little like the one he had with Bran and yet … just so completely different from either of those two. He seemed drawn to her like a magnet, and it was only after thinking that, that Jon realised he had subconsciously moved forward, now so close he could almost touch her.

The girl’s eyes widened and she took half a step back until she encountered the rough stone wall behind her. Jon’s heart was beating so hard he could hear it pounding in his ears but he was acted on instinct now, lifting a hand to touch her cheek, feeling the soft warmth of her skin through his fingers and allowing himself to drown in her beautiful eyes, even as a wave of strange pleasure at the contact thrummed through his mind and his body.

She gasped, lips parting, and this time it was Jon who licked his lips in anticipation. She was so beautiful and he desperately wanted to taste her and see what this connection would feel like through their lips but … there was something he needed to confirm first. He moved closer still, teasing her with the prospect of a kiss that he was not yet willing to give; savouring the feel of her breath on his lips and the lust in her eyes as he started to lean in.

“I know who you are,” he said, his voice cracking as he allowed his fingers to trail subtly closer to the edge of her head scarf.

“Oh?” She raised her chin very slightly, desperately trying to show defiance, but her body seemed to be melting under his touch and Jon realised he now had the upper hand here. He gently slid a finger under the scarf until he felt her hair and hooked some out but, despite his confident statement, was still shocked when the silver strand curled around his finger confirmed his suspicions.

“Daenerys Targaryen.” He pulled back very slightly, swallowing hard. “You … You survived.”

She glared slightly. “I suppose my identity would be pretty obvious once you knew I was also a Warg?”

“Aye, but I could scarcely believe it. I heard so many tales about you when I was growing up.”

He hadn’t been able to hide the awe in his voice and she smiled slyly at him. “I did have a certain reputation, it’s true, but I wasn’t aware it had reached this far north.”

He nodded, his hand still on her cheek his body leaning back in towards her, seemingly out of his control. “It had and now … now you’re here in front of me and … Gods you are so beautiful.”

She was the one to move first, leaning away from the wall and throwing her arms around his neck, as she crashed her lips against his. Jon’s shock lasted no more than a heartbeat before he attempted to wrest back control, stepping forwards until she was backed up against the wall, opening his mouth as he kissed her, desperately needing to taste her tongue. Daenerys gasped and allowed him in, her arms moving from his neck to his waist, her hands snaking around to his back and then lower, grabbing his arse and tempting him to push his hips against hers.

“Hmm,” she said as she continued to massage him through his trousers. “Muscles, nice.”

Jon had no memory of hitching one of her legs up against his hip, but now found himself holding her thigh firmly in one hand, his tongue still caressing hers, whilst they rutted desperately against each other. His fingers explored the best they could through her layers, one hand finding its way under her cloak, trying to work out what she was wearing underneath and if he might find some bare skin to touch. Daenerys groaned and did the same, fingers slowly teasing under his shirt.

“Where are your chambers?” she gasped.

“We … we can’t,” Jon replied, the logical part of his mind trying to pull away whilst his body disobeyed, still pressing against her suggestively as his hands continued to explore. His room really wasn’t that far away and the thought of her  there, lying on his bed whilst he undressed her, was so appealing. This strange connection they shared through touching hands or lips was amazing but what would it feel like if they were both naked? Or if he were inside her? He groaned at the thought. How would he even survive such contact?

“I know … it’s wrong,” Daenerys mumbled. “It’s too much too soon but …”

She didn’t finish the sentence, her lips back on his as her fingers finally found some bare skin at his waist, and her touch there was nearly the end of him. Never mind his chambers, Jon was shocked at how close he was to just lowering their trousers and taking her right here where anyone could walk past and see them. It was that thought which finally allowed him to find the will to pull away, although the pain as they parted felt literal; tears stinging his eyes at the cruel separation.

“We need to understand this … find out why we ...” He shook his head. “This makes no sense.”

“You’re right, I know you are,” she gasped, “but … it’s driving me crazy.”

Jon simply nodded, turning away from her and heading towards his chambers before he did something he would come to regret. Once there, he slammed the door behind him and immediately dropped his trousers, desperate for some relief from the bitter-sweet torture. It wouldn’t take long, he realised, not when he could still taste her on his tongue and feel her thrumming through his skin and … He gasped, certain he sensed her briefly in his mind, also closing the door to her room and stripping herself of her lower clothing. It was probably just his fevered imagination but the thought of her doing much the same thing at the same time gave Jon a quiet thrill; that the Daenerys Targaryen might actually feel the same way about him as he did about her?

He was right, it didn’t take long at all and he collapsed to his knees afterwards, breathing heavily, shocked to find his eyes full of tears.

“What is that woman doing to me?”

~o~0~o~

Jon woke up with a groan, dreading today’s meeting and the thought of having to face the woman who had haunted last night’s dreams. He had now confirmed her identity but had so far kept that information from his siblings. She was Daenerys Targaryen; the famous child Warg he’d heard so much about as a youth, the only living dragon-Rider, and tales of her beauty had most definitely not been exaggerated. That strange guilt emerged again both from telling his family her secret in the first place and from not telling them her name, and so Jon deliberately avoided everyone first thing, breaking his fast early, heading out to spend some time with Ghost and then returning with barely enough time to change before escorting the visitors from the Guest House to the meeting room.

He was quite determined not to look at her as they crossed the courtyard, not trusting himself to be able to focus on anything else if he did so, even though he could sense her anyway. He was constantly aware of an odd tingle at the back of his neck - similar to the sensation he felt through Ghost - which made him certain he could close his eyes, turn around and point straight at her. He knew she was looking at him, staring at his back and daring him to turn around, but he ignored the temptation, stalking slightly ahead of the party and grateful that Tyrion did not try to engage him in the usual idle chatter. Although, considering Daenerys would have told him exactly what Jon was by now, that was probably not very surprising.

As they entered the meeting room, he automatically headed to his place by the door but, on glancing up, saw a number of heads turned his way curiously and Tyrion staring right at him with a look of frustration on his face.

“It’s not an act then, Jon Snow? This strange modesty you appear to have?”

He glanced over at Sansa who just shrugged and so he came forwards to join them all around the meeting table, still glowering and still trying not to look at Daenerys.

“It seems we have both discovered one piece of information held by the other side,” Sansa said, “although we admitted as much during our discussions so far anyway. Admitted that we do not yet fully trust one another to place all our cards openly on the table?”

“This is true,” Tyrion replied, “although I’m genuinely curious as to why you would keep Jon’s true status quiet. It’s not as if his reputation during the battle is not well known by those of us who fought in it.”

“And your Warg?” Sansa asked.

Tyrion’s frowned deepened as he turned his gaze from Bran to Jon. “I assumed with two Wargs on your side, you would have known everything by now?”

“I only confirmed her identity after I last spoke to my siblings,” Jon replied quietly, still not trusting himself to look at her.

There was a long pause as Tyrion tried to see if Jon was going to call her out. When it was obvious he wasn’t, he glanced to his side and Daenerys stood up, the move finally managing to gain his attention and allow her to catch his eye, and her expression seemed just as puzzled as Tyrion’s was. She was wearing a skirt under her cloak today, Jon noticed and her hair was still covered, although he could see it wasn’t quite as effectively hidden as before and then, with the slightest twist of her lips which could have been a smile, she removed her scarf and waited for the reaction.

Arya was on her feet in an instant. “Daenerys Targaryen? You’re still alive?”

She looked down at herself, her expression serious. “Apparently so.”

Jon’s lips twitched, enjoying her sense of humour. “And so it was your dragon and its ...” He frowned, uncertain of the collective noun. “Friends that came to our aid.”

“Flight,” she corrected. “And yes, it was. I heard about the battle whilst in Essos and felt I should help in some way.”

“Then you have my belated thanks ...” He frowned. “and my condolences. It is unlikely we would have won through without your assistance.”

“Indeed,” Sansa agreed, “although perhaps now is not an appropriate time for awe and praise to be heaped upon you?”

Daenerys nodded. “You are quite right and I got enough of that as a child. Too much probably.” She sighed. “So, let me be the first to apologise for the deception, your Grace. My … departure from Westeros happened many years ago and under difficult circumstances. I wasn’t entirely sure how I would be received here and so keeping my identity hidden seemed like the best solution at the time.”

Sansa gave the smaller woman a firm nod in response. “We too wished to keep Jon’s abilities quiet initially in order to give us a better understanding of what we were facing. Our independence is popular here but we are constantly nervous about interference from the south. We want nothing more to be left alone, as I said before, but that does not seem to be a luxury that Cersei will allow us.

Daenerys looked over at Tyrion with a raised eyebrow and he nodded in return, apparently passing his authority back over to her. She turned her gaze back to Sansa and took a deep breath.

“It was a struggle for me in Essos initially but, in time, I built up a following. The people who travelled here with me represent various groups from my large army who came onto my side believing me to be The Prince that was Promised, the prophesied Warg Monarch; destined to overthrow the old order and rule the whole of Westeros.”

Jon frowned, looking over at his siblings who were looking either amused or confused at Daenerys’ bold statement.

“Believe me, I was also sceptical at first,” she continued, “but many senior Riders in Essos believe it to be true even though others talk of this Monarch being born in the north. When we heard of Bran’s abilities and the Stark family’s love of the old ways, we were curious enough to come here and hear your thoughts on the prophecy whilst also discussing a possible alliance with you.”

Jon winced as the siblings all exchanged nervous glances and Daenerys noticed, smirking as she started to catch up. “Oh, but I see now that we only had it half right? You believe Jon to be the true Monarch?”

“No,” Bran said. “He is the true king here in the north but neither Jon nor I Ride dragons.  Although, the prophecy is not about you either.”

She lifted her chin. “But I am the only Dragon Rider, am I not?”

“You are,” Bran confirmed, “and I don’t doubt your ability to be a strong Rider Queen, if that is your goal, but the role you’re speaking of is not something that any of us here are qualified for. Not even me. Now is not the time and all we can do is use the skills we have to set the realm back on the right path in preparation for his or her coming.”

Daenerys frowned, glancing back at Tyrion who seemed equally confused. “I don’t understand,” she said. “What is it you believe this Monarch to be? I was told it was simply a Dragon King or Queen with Warg abilities who would sit on the Iron throne.”

“It is more complex than that,” Jon said then. “We would certainly prefer to have a ruler or rulers with Rider ability governing the realm but this person is … different and not something I think you would aspire to be if you fully understood what the role involved.”

She glared at him, apparently angry at something, although he had no idea what. He held her gaze, not willing to back down from whatever game she was playing with him.

“So,” Tyrion said, “Sansa has been presenting herself as a queen in the modern sense - a ruler with no Rider skills with Bran as her Rider-Hand - whilst, as far as the north is concerned, it is your half brother who is the true king here?” He turned to look at Jon then. “This is a role you have sought deliberately?”

“No,” he admitted, “but, much like the role I took on before the Battle of the Dawn, it is an honour I will accept for the good of the north and to secure the future of the realm and beyond.”

“And the southern throne?” Daenerys asked him.

He shook his head. “That is currently not our concern. At the moment we are simply working with our lords and the Free Folk to move the north back to the way it used to be governed – a council of Seven containing people from all walks of life. Perhaps in time we may try to press our influence onto the south but, as we keep saying, we have neither the men nor the will to attempt that right now.”

“And what if I wish to be queen of the south and the north?” Daenerys asked, her attention fully on him, her pretty face now radiating an anger which felt oddly thrilling to behold. His focus was now entirely on her too, this strange connection and his desire for her now battling with a rapidly brewing anger. “What if I wish to bring the north back into the fold and rule it from King’s Landing?”

“Then I shall have to dissuade you,” Jon replied quietly.

Her breath caught. “You really think you could?”

“Do you really want to try me?” he retorted, jaw clenching.

She held his gaze, the tension crackling between them, whilst everyone else shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“Now then,” Tyrion said after a while, his overly-bright voice causing Jon to jump. “There’s no need for us to force the matter of the thrones yet, especially as there are obviously issues here regarding the correct interpretation of this Warg Monarch prophecy. May I suggest then that, for now, we simply focus our attention on Cersei, a subject I believe we can find common ground on? You say you wish to be left alone but are nervous that my sister will not allow that?”

“Yes,” Sansa said, bringing her attention back to Tyrion whilst Jon and Daenerys seemed quite unable to break their shared glare.

“And I agree with you,” the dwarf said. “She already feels affronted by your determination to call yourself queen, so I’m sure you can imagine how she’ll feel about allowing a bastard to be named king, however you interpret that word up here.” That comment finally enticed Jon to pull his stern gaze from Daenerys and turn it on Tyrion instead and the dwarf raised his hands defensively. “I do not mean to give insult here. I understand better than most how the unfortunate nature of one’s birth can cause distress. I am simply informing you of what I believe my sister’s reaction will be when she hears this news. Any of this news. I am simply suggesting that, together, we might better be able to get what we all want.”

“You would allow us our independence?” Sansa asked then, a hint of rare excitement in her tone. “If you did manage to claim the southern throne you would leave us be?”

At his sister’s suggestion, Daenerys’ whipped her head around to glare at her Hand, obviously not at all impressed by the idea. Tyrion winced slightly but did his best to keep his focus on Sansa and the negotiations.

“It is certainly something we can discuss,” he replied. “A starting point? A way to move forwards from … this?”

Sansa nodded. “We do still have much to discuss, I can see that, but tend to agree with Lord Tyrion that our goals coincide more than they clash right now. Yes?”

Jon was distracted, now back to glaring at Daenerys, and so busy trying to catch all the subtle exchanges between her and her Hand, that he hadn’t realised that Sansa was looking for her king’s opinion on the matter. Finally, frustrated, she called his name and Jon dragged his gaze away from the smaller queen to find his sister looking at him with an expression which somehow managed to appear both annoyed and amused.

“I see no reason why we can’t continue our discussions for the time being,” he agreed, despite his instincts screaming at him to throw them all out of Winterfell and send this far-too-mesmerizing Targaryen just as far away from him as possible.

“And I agree,” Sansa said. “Tyrion? Daenerys?”

A short pause and finally the pair each nodded their consent and the especially tense meeting was able to be drawn to a close. Jon was automatically heading out with the foreign party when Sansa called on him to stay and he paused, momentarily confused.

“I believe our visitors are capable of finding their own way back to the Guest House by now?” she suggested diplomatically and Tyrion bowed an acknowledgement. Daenerys however ignored them all, turning and marching out and looking just as angry as Jon felt. He watched them leave and then turned back to find all three siblings giving him curious looks.

“What?”

“What in the Seven Hells was all that about, Jon?” Sansa demanded.

“What?” he repeated.

“That glower and all those veiled threats? That meeting was supposed to be a negotiation not a prelude to war.”

“I honestly can’t blame him though,” Arya said. “Not with Daenerys going on about taking back the north.”

“You may have felt the same but at least you kept your counsel. Goodness knows what they thought of that revelation when you behaved like that.”

“I don’t trust her,” Jon said. “And her presence is …”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps it’s this Warg thing, I don’t know. It’s not as if I have any issues with Bran but … there’s something about her that makes me uncomfortable.”

Arya snorted a laugh and he turned to glare at her. “She is very beautiful. Perhaps that is what’s making you … uncomfortable?”

Jon hoped his glare had masked the sudden heat that rose to his face.

“Arya!” Sansa scolded. “I’m shocked.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was only saying.”

Jon sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Sansa. I’ll try harder to keep my temper under control next time. You’re right, of course, as was Tyrion. If we can find some common ground with Daenerys it might well solve our problem with Cersei.”

“Yes,” Sansa agreed. “Because, despite her comments today, I honestly believe she is the better option of the two and, if we can befriend her and make her see our point of view, then we may finally be able to have the peace we crave.”

“We need her,” Bran confirmed quietly. “Daenerys needs us on her side but we also need her on ours if we are ever to fulfil the Warg Monarch Prophecy.

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Daenerys

Daenerys stormed out of the meeting the moment it had finished, grumbling to herself as she attempted to control the surge of irrational anger she was feeling. She knew she had let her temper get the better of her and she knew she'd let Jon get to her but seeing as she couldn’t understand why her reaction had been so dramatic, there was little chance of explaining it to Tyrion if he asked.

When he asked, she realised, because her Hand would definitely be wanting an explanation from her and that was a conversation she felt she had to avoid at all costs. So, Dany decided not to return to the Guest House, instead skirting to the right of the building with the intention to take a walk in the Stark’s walled woodland. Unfortunately, her feet betrayed her, urging her right again, past the armoury and from there on towards the far side of the Keep.

She increased her pace - walking so fast she was on the verge of running - her frustration boiling away whilst her head buzzed and itched, and Drogon grumbled at her for waking him up. Then she turned a corner and almost shrieked as she found herself face to face with Jon.

“Now what?” she demanded of him.

“What?” he asked, looking around as if checking where he was. “I’m not the one in the wrong place?”

She folded her arms and glared at him. “I seem to remember Sansa saying we had free range of the castle.”

“You do, of course.” The words were conciliatory, his tone and stance anything but. “I just assumed you’d want to return to the Guest House.”

“Not a chance,” she snapped.

“Oh?”

“I don’t think either of our groups are especially pleased with us now.”

Jon huffed. “No. I’m not especially pleased with us now, either.”

She tried not to laugh at that, but it summed up her own feelings well enough. “So, any further insights into … this?”

“None.” His eyes were boring into hers again, dark and deep and … a delightful shudder overcame her, reminding her why she should be keeping her distance from him.

“I-I can’t stop thinking about you,” she blurted out, “About the kiss and how it felt and-”

“-Daenerys ... Please don’t.”

“I know, I’m sorry but ...” She had managed to look away briefly to focus on the ground, but her eyes and body betrayed her again, glancing back up to discover that they had both moved a pace closer and she saw Jon’s expression instantly soften as their gazes locked again. Gods, he was so handsome and those lips ... Once again she licked her own.

“Seven Hells,” he mumbled, looking quickly around to see if anyone was nearby before stepping closer still, grabbing one of her hands and pulling her towards the nearest door which lead into a long building connecting the Keep with the outer wall.

“Jon?”

The touch of his hand felt amazing, distracting her from her previously angry thoughts, but he said nothing more, walking her just a few paces down the corridor before opening another door and manoeuvring her inside. Daenerys had barely taken note of the large chamber - bleak, dark stone walls but comfortably furnished - when she felt his lips back on hers and all other thoughts fled from her mind.

The initial kiss was rough, but not at all unpleasant - his tongue quickly searching for hers whilst he placed his hands on either side of her face - and Dany returned it wholeheartedly, feeling a strange sense of relief at finally being back in his arms. She quickly moved her hands to his chest, pulling at the straps on his cloak, keen to get the heavy, annoying weight off of him, but having limited success. Finally Jon untied it himself, allowing it to fall on the floor before returning to kiss her hungrily, pulling her body flush against his.

Dany groaned at the sensation, throwing her arms around his neck and running her fingers through his curls whilst Jon’s hands slid down her back to push her hips against his and he stopped kissing her only for long enough to mumble, “I want you so much it hurts.”

“I know and we mustn’t but I want you too.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not right I … need you. Like air or water or-”

Any further words were stopped by his lips, his hands now pulling at her cape as each frantically attempted to remove the next set of layers. Perhaps she should try harder to resist. Perhaps she should stop, gather up her outer layers and walk out or …

Or perhaps they should just keep going and get it out of their system.

His hands were all over her now, caressing her through the thinner layers of her dress, twitching at the clasps before impatiently touching her again. She was having the same problem, pulling and bunching at the cloth at his chest but really too fired up and desperate to figure out the easiest way to undress him. Jon growled with impatience then, hitching up her skirt and pressing a hand between her legs with little warning and Dany cried out in delight at the sensation, his impatience giving her some excuse to focus her attention on his trousers; making quick work of the ties and sliding her hands inside, finally able to enjoy the feel of bare skin at his hip.

Before she could explore any further, however, Jon dropped to his knees, lowering her small clothes with one strong tug and then ducking his head underneath her skirt. She gasped as his hands inched up her bare legs and then cried out as she felt his mouth on her, his fingers grabbing her hips roughly whilst his tongue slid out to taste her.

“W-what are you …? Aah!”

This was not what she had expected when he’d pulled her in here. She had expected him to take her quickly and roughly - had been prepared for it, even secretly desired it - but this? Her brief annoyance at not being able to see or touch him while he was under her skirts was soon overtaken by a selfish desire for her own release, and quickly, but Jon seemed determined to withhold that too, apparently fully aware of how close she was and quickly standing back up. Daenerys took out her frustration by grabbing at his shoulders but he simply smirked, moving her by her waist until she was pushed up against his door, before releasing the final tie on her dress and stepping back to admire the curves under her thin shift.

“So beautiful,” he growled heading first to kiss her neck before his lips travelled lower, but now Dany had finally managed to slide Jon's trousers off from around his hips and grabbed his cock firmly, sliding her hand up and down his hard length, enjoying the feel as she stroked him more rapidly, determined to get him as frustrated as he had just left her.

He allowed it for a while before moving her again, hands on both shoulders as he kissed her and walked her across the room in this awkward position. Then she was being half lowered, half thrown onto the bed and Jon was looming above her, his eyes even darker than usual.

“You need to tell me to stop,” he breathed as his hands stroked slow paths up the inside of her bare thighs. “Because if you don’t do so now, there’s no going back.”

Instead of replying, Dany wriggled back on the bed and opened her legs wider, making her thoughts on the matter perfectly clear. She cried out as Jon pushed into her roughly, any discomfort from his sudden entry softened by how well he had already prepared her. Still tingling from that experience she braced herself for a quick but thrilling ride, already feeling the tremors start to return, her insides pulsing in anticipation as he pounded into her aggressively.

“Yes, so close ...” she gasped, lifting her legs higher still, but again Jon thwarted her, pulling out and quickly throwing off his shirt before his mouth headed to her breasts, still covered by her thin shift.

“You think you’re here to be pleasured?” he growled, in-between suckling and nibbling her. “You’re not. You know what this is. You understand what it means. Or what it doesn’t.”

“Then get on with it,” she snapped. “Stop all this damn teasing and let’s get it out of our system.”

“Fine!” He grabbed at her then, hauling her up into a sitting position. “No more teasing. Get on your hands and knees.”

“What?”

That definitely felt like teasing to her, especially as Jon took the opportunity to relieve her of her final layers before she turned over, the pair of them now fully naked as he pushed into her again from behind. This position should have felt wrong and she should have felt used by it but Dany was again surprised at how gentle he was being, his hands caressing her bare skin so tenderly and his lips placing soft kisses on her back whilst his hands slid between her legs and brought her along with him for the ride.

If this meant nothing to him, if this really was just a meaningless fuck, then what in Seven Hells would Jon Snow be like as a lover in different circumstances? The thought of him whispering sweet, loving words whilst inside her was enough to bring Dany close to the edge again but, as usual, he seemed to sense it, removing his hand and thrusting hard just twice more before withdrawing again, uttering a sound which seemed halfway between a growl and a sob.

She understood then, receiving a flash of insight which almost certainly came from the Warg part of her, seeing a brief glimpse of his mind and realising that Jon’s thoughts were similar to her own. He was being driven, coerced into this encounter by some unknown force. He desperately wanted this to mean nothing, as did she, but there was some connection between them, something related to their ability perhaps, and that was why he kept stopping and why he kept holding himself very slightly back, refusing to be too rough with her or do anything which might be interpreted as an attack on her person.

But there was no reason why this needed to be one sided. Why should he take all the ‘blame’ for what was going on here? Daenerys decided to take advantage of Jon’s brief confusion about what they were doing and took control; pushing him down onto the bed and straddling him, this new position finally giving her a good view of his beautiful body and face, his muscular torso, and his dark curls now wet with sweat as they fell over his eyes. She thought she should grab his far-too-pretty hair and yank it, but instead found herself tenderly sweeping it aside as she lifted up and dropped back down hard onto him. Just because he’d held back didn’t mean she should and so she tried to be more aggressive and find the release they were both so desperately craving, but his dark eyes were distracting her and his lips - red and swollen from her kisses - were making her think of their pleasure and this strange bond and the slow, smouldering yearning that was starting to take a hold of her.

It was all too much and yet somehow still wasn’t enough. Bad enough that this was a really good ride so far but add to that the strange hum and buzz of their Warg connection, and the waves of emotion which now appeared to be his as well as hers, and Dany wasn’t sure how she was going to survive any more of this. She stopped, gasping for air, tears in her eyes.

“I … can’t ...”

It wasn’t that she wanted this to end. It was just far too many emotions to deal with in one go. Jon sat up then, pulling her close whilst still inside her, and kissed her tenderly.

“I know … hush.” For a moment the two of them just rolled together, kissing and caressing, and Dany hadn’t even realised how highly wrought she was until Jon pulled away slightly and wiped the tears from her face. “You want to stop?” he asked softly.

“Yes? And no ...”

He smiled. “I know. I feel the same way.”

He lowered her gently onto her back and, this time when he entered her, he was so tender, so loving, that she felt as if she would melt from it. Then the strange buzz from their Rider connection became louder and she felt suddenly dizzy and disorientated. Was he on top or was she? She could feel him pushing into her as she stared up at his dark, brown eyes but she was also the one on top, looking down at light eyes and watching herself tip her head back onto the pillow, gasping as he pushed into her snug warmth. On every thrust she was both Dany and Jon, viewing herself through his eyes and having feelings for her that he should not have. And he was in her head too, seeing himself as she did, and she knew that he now saw what she had been trying to hide - that he understood how much she admired him and how strong her feelings for him were becoming.

Being two was disorientating enough but suddenly becoming four was far too much. Jon was speeding up his thrusts whilst whispering nonsense in her ear and Daenerys was urging him on - her heels on his buttocks whilst she gasped his name - but she was also running through the Wolfswood on four paws and flying above it as Drogon and she was everywhere and everything. She was the whole realm stretched out below her. The whole world.

And then, finally, there was ecstasy and release and … darkness as she passed out from the intensity of it all.

~o~0~o~

Dany came around soon afterwards with Jon still on top of her, although he was now also stirring, gasping in shuddering breaths, almost sobs, before rolling off of her and pulling her tightly against his chest. She felt confused and sore but couldn’t help but cling to him, pressing her lips against his bare shoulder whilst he kissed her head and ran his fingers gently over her skin. A quiet desperation hung between the pair as they continued to stroke and squeeze and somehow attempt to rediscover themselves after the intense Riding.

Because that was what it had been, she realised. Being in Jon’s head had felt like that moment just before Riding an animal when you saw into their mind, sensed their awareness and prepared to step in and join them. She wouldn’t have been able to do that, of course, not with another Warg, but having become so emotionally involved with Jon had made the experience feel similar. And that highlighted the main problem here. She was far more aware of him now, having experienced the smallest flashes of his emotions and memories as they had become closer, which meant that he probably knew things about her too. Important knowledge about her and her plans which he should not have.

She should leave. She should get up and dress and run back to the Guest House, but Dany felt exceptionally exhausted and confused and, right now, Jon was the only one who could truly understand how she felt and she could not find the will to pull away from him. And neither could he, it seemed, holding onto her as tightly as she was to him, both of them breathing heavily until they finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~o~0~o~

Daenerys was fully herself when she next awoke, sitting up in shock to find herself naked in Jon’s bed. He was awake just as suddenly, sliding quickly over to the far edge of the other side, wide-eyed as he stared at her, seemingly just as horrified to discover himself in this position as she was.

“I’m … I ….” he started.

“I should go,” she said, starting to get up and then glaring at him over her shoulder when he continued to gape at her.

Jon got the message, nodding and turning his back on her, searching for his clothes whilst she hunted for hers, both trying to give the other some privacy. Once her final boot had been discovered, Dany moved quickly to the door wanting nothing more than to get back to her own little room within the Guest House. They had come here early in the afternoon and it now appeared to be late evening. Time to get back, beg some supper and then hopefully lock herself in her bedroom for the night.

“Daenerys, before you go, I ...”

She turned sharply, glaring at Jon as he approached, also now fully dressed but with his eyes downcast. “What?” she snapped.

“I just need to know … I mean, we still have to work out what’s happening and why we were so … driven but I have to ask you. I have to know that I didn’t hurt you, that I didn’t … force you.” He was grinding his teeth, a look of disgust on his face and, despite her own confusion about the situation, Dany didn’t have the heart to ignore the plea.

“We were both coerced by something,” she said, “there’s no denying that but, no, I don’t consider myself attacked by you, Jon. I was willing at the time and … it wasn’t unpleasant just … confusing and ...” She shook her head. “That’s why I have to go now.”

He nodded, still apparently unable to look at her. “I have never felt less in control in my life and so … I worried.”

“I know,” she replied, and that was the truth. She had seen and sensed something of that fear from him whilst it was happening.

He looked so sad and so lost that a part of her wanted to move forwards to hug and reassure him, but a sudden flash of memory of his naked body as she had ridden him and the way he had looked at her had her shuddering and she turned away abruptly, not wishing to get into any further conversation which might end up with her being tempted back into his bed.

“I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow,” she said as she closed the door behind her, determined not to look back.

She was on the edge of tears as she headed back across the courtyard, feeling a strange sense of loss at being away from him whilst also feeling relieved. Nothing about her relationship with Jon Snow was straightforward and never before had one person managed to make her to feel so many contradictory emotions; hate, love, disgust, passion, pain, delight and … confusion. That last one more than any other.

Now for the hardest part, walking into the open, shared Hall of the Guest House which, as she had suspected, was now packed with her whole group eating their evening meal.

“Daenerys, where have you been?” Tyrion began. “We were all so worried.”

“I went walking,” she replied flatly.

“Where? We looked everywhere.”

She ignored the question. “Missandei, can you bring some food to my room please?”

She couldn’t stay here a moment longer - not with so many eyes staring - and her friend was the only one she felt she could bear to have see her like this, the only one she could trust to not ask too many awkward questions. She strode into her room and closed the door, wanting to throw herself on the bed and cry, but not daring to do so until she was truly alone.

“Your Grace?” Dany shook her head, fighting the tears. “Daenerys? What happened?”

“I can’t … I don’t want to talk about it. Just … food please and ...”

The girl sat next to her on the bed and brought the tray over, placing it on her lap, and Dany could feel her eyes on her as she grabbed a piece of bread and started to tuck in greedily.

“Jon Snow?” Missandei asked quietly. Dany winced and carried on eating, only stopping when she became aware of the edge to her friend’s voice. “What did he do to you?”

She shook her head, looking up to see quiet anger in Missandei’s eyes and knowing she had to at least partially correct her. “No, it wasn’t like that. It’s … complicated but ...”

The girl lifted a gentle hand to stroke her face, her eyes studying her before running her fingers down her neck where Dany felt a slight tenderness. She looked up from her plate to see Missandei looking at her with a raised eyebrow and realised that she must now have a number of marks on various parts of her body.

“He didn’t rape me,” she said firmly. “I need you to know that and I need you to promise not to say anything to anyone about this.”

Missandei frowned. “Of course. I’ll let you eat and rest but I’ll be back later and will attend you tomorrow morning to make sure you are … presentable.” And then she left allowing Dany to finally curl up on her own bed and quietly cry herself to sleep.

~o~0~o~

She dreamt of Jon. A lovely dream, not the horrible nightmare she would have expected under the circumstances. She dreamt of him the way he’d been near the end, when he’d held her close and then so tenderly lowered her down on his bed. Their encounter had started as something rough, needy and desperate but the ending, and that strange moment of half awareness that had occurred immediately afterwards, had been beautiful and loving and … Daenerys had never felt that way before. Never felt so precious and so adored as she had in that one moment.

But Jon Snow didn’t love her and she didn’t love him. They were not exactly enemies but neither were they allies. Why had she thrown herself at him like that? Why had she allowed herself to be bedded by a man she hardly knew?

Missandei came back to see Dany just before her own bedtime, checking to see if the queen needed anything and offering to help her undress and wash. Dany refused all her offers of assistance and her friend, seeing her red eyes, had hugged her close, thankfully not pushing for any explanation of her current state. She had brought in a large bowl of warm water for the young queen to wash with, some more food and drink for her to eat and then left with no further questions. Dany stripped slowly, squinting at her reflection in the bronze mirror in an attempt to see how much of her time with Jon now showed on her body.

Most of the marks she could see were fairly faint and most were in places that could remain well hidden. It was really just the one high up on her neck that Missandei had spotted and she now remembered how it had happened, right near the end when their connection had been at its strongest and Jon was alternating between mumbling quiet nonsense and sucking hard at her pulse point, whilst Ghost howled and Drogon roared.

Ghost?

A Familiar’s name was rarely shared or discussed, especially with those who could use such knowledge against you. It was a key to the animal’s mind, a concept as much as a word, and knowing it made it so much easier to over-Ride the bond between human and beast; one of the strongest weapons in a true Warg’s arsenal.

She shuddered as she fully understood what that meant. Jon had been the one from the battle who had managed to briefly connect with Drogon via Rhaegal. The King in the North had enough power to influence a dragon and now knew her Familiar’s name, just as she knew the name of his. The thought made Dany feel slightly nauseous and she now understood that Jon’s expression of disgust as she had been leaving had not just been his fear of having physically harmed her, but also because they had been in each other’s heads and had touched their Familiars’ minds. For a Rider, that was far more of a violation than anything they had done to each other’s bodies today and yet, at the time, it had felt wonderful and warm and …

Dany threw herself onto her bed, muffling a scream into the pillow. ‘It makes no sense. I don’t understand!’

~o~0~o~

As promised, Missandei came to attend her early the following morning, standing quietly by the door, head bowed, as Daenerys washed and put on her small clothes.

“I need something with a high collar,” she said, unemotionally, and her friend nodded, heading over to the trunk to find a suitable dress and bringing it over.

“Try this cream too,” she suggested, “it should help a bit. And let me style your hair. Perhaps now you could wear it loose?”

“No,” Dany replied. “I should still keep a low profile whilst walking around the castle. Wrap it back up again today, but perhaps you could leave the ends of the scarf free? I think that should also help hide the mark?”

Missandei nodded. “Of course, your Grace.”

By the time Daenerys returned to their communal hall she was comfortably dressed and feeling very much better. She could hardly say she was looking forward to the meeting and being back in Jon’s company but at least now she felt she was in a position to survive it.

Tyrion would be the first hurdle to overcome. He was not a tractable man under normal circumstances but was especially stubborn as far as his queen was concerned.

“You are well?” he asked.

“I am,” she replied. “I’m afraid I let my anger get the better of me during yesterday’s meeting and so it took me some time to calm down.”

“I’ve seen you angry before,” Tyrion replied with a frown. “But that? That was … different.”

Daenerys forced herself to look him in the eye and smile. “Perhaps, but I really am feeling much better after a good night’s sleep.” In truth she had slept very little but had at least had enough rest to allow her the lie.

Her Hand stared at her, clearly unconvinced, but she knew he’d say nothing further if she gave him no cause, and quickly moved to sit at the table for a little food and drink. Fortunately yesterday had not caused her to lose her appetite - a symptom would have been far harder to brush aside - and so she allowed herself to tuck into the food greedily, hoping that would convince everyone, including Missandei, that she had come to no real harm last night.

“And how should we deal with Jon Snow?” Tyrion asked and Daenerys willed herself to remained calm on hearing the name, fully aware of how closely her Hand was now watching her.

“He annoys me,” she admitted. “And it appears that I annoy him just as much, so it’s probably best that you and Sansa lead the negotiations from now on and I will only intervene when absolutely necessary and ideally only talk to the queen when I do.”

“That is probably wise,” Tyrion agreed, “but why does Jon annoy you? What exactly is going on between the two of you?”

She looked back up at him then, wanting to convince him of the absolute truth of her reply. “I’m honestly not sure. Probably a Warg thing.”

The look he gave her was sceptical. “A Warg thing?”

“Hard to explain.” She pulled a face to stop herself from laughing at her own understatement. “Impossible really.”

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Jon

“I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow.”

Daenerys left Jon’s chambers without a backwards glance, leaving him staring blankly at the dark, wooden door and trying to come to terms with what had just happened.

He wanted to hate her and he wanted to hate what they had done but his, admittedly fairly limited, experience of relationships so far had done little to prepared him for just how amazing their time together had been. They had tried so hard to make it just about the act and nothing else but had failed spectacularly and their shared Warg abilities had made that a curse as well, their connection near the end revealing far more secrets to the other than either one of them would have wished.

“Seven Hells!”

Frustrated, Jon strode out of his room without his cloak, slamming the door behind him and revelling in the biting cold, allowing it to numb his skin and wishing it could do the same to his restless mind. He wanted to focus on what he may have inadvertently revealed to Daenerys whilst they were in bed together but instead found himself dwelling on how it had felt to kiss her, to touch her, to push inside her body and her mind and sense her both inside and out. He had hoped that their session would have got it all out of his system but the way his body was now reacting to the memory made him realise that that was definitely not how it was going to pan out.

At least Daenerys hadn’t felt that he had violated her, although Jon certainly felt used in a way, as he was sure she did too. Yes, they were attracted to each other - he was confident he would have been even if they had both been Outsiders with no ability - but he never had been as sexually driven as some men he knew, and the way he had acted today - practically dragging her into his room and grabbing at her like a savage - was not like him at all and certainly not how he felt making love should be. At least he had managed to find enough of himself at the end to be a little more gentle with her, but then that was a problem too. He didn’t want to have feelings for her, he didn’t want her to have feelings for him, and yet he’d read enough of her mind to know that she …

He shook his head, not daring to follow that line of thought any further, instead striding into the godswood and quickly turning to face the direction of the wind, allowing the sleet to blast at his face and hopefully dispel all thoughts of her from his mind. Slightly calmed, he turned again, heading towards the Heart Tree and kneeling in the snow before it, suddenly desperate for prayer.

He remained there for some time, ignoring the cold and wet, staring at the gruesome face carved into the white wood and trying to let that ugliness over-ride the beauty he was struggling to get out of his head, determined to think only of the Targaryen queen’s mind and what information the two of them may have inadvertently shared during their time in his chambers. Trying hard to think like a king who needed to put the needs of his people first.

“Jon?”

He sighed in defeat. “Hello, Arya.”

“You missed supper and no-one had seen you for hours. We were worried.”

“There was no need to be”

“And you weren’t here when I looked earlier either.”

He shrugged. “I was tired. I went to my chambers.” Neither said anything for a while, Jon still staring at the tree whilst Arya, he knew, continued to stare at him.

“What is it, Jon?” she asked eventually. “What’s got you so rattled?”

“It’s ...” He sighed, deciding on a measure of the truth. “Daenerys just annoys me, that’s all. It’s this Warg connection, I think, and that’s worrying because ...” How could he explain it to his sister without revealing exactly what had happened between them? “I’m used to it with Bran, of course, and with him it doesn’t really matter because he’s family but, with Daenerys … I know things about her now and she knows things about me but … it somehow feels wrong to share what I learn that way. Does that make sense?”

“Perhaps,” she replied, “but then, we’re not fully allies yet so, does it really matter?”

“But neither are we sworn enemies and, more to the point, this ability goes both ways.”

“What are you saying?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure. It’s why I’m here really, just trying to come to terms with it all and work out how I can do my best for the north when it’s a struggle for me to even think straight at the moment.”

Arya giggled at that but quickly schooled her expression when Jon glared at her. “No, I’m sorry and I’m sorry for what I said earlier too.”

He forced out a smile, knowing it would be impossible to deny everything, especially as far as this particular sister was concerned. “It hasn’t escaped my attention that she’s beautiful,” he admitted, “and that fact certainly isn’t helping me to distance myself from her.”

“And she’s the famous dragon Rider we all grew up hearing about,” Arya said excitedly. “A talented young Warg from an ancient House that’s almost to extinct and, what with all the stories about her evolution from entitled brat to persecuted exile … well, I admit that I had to fight the urge to kneel at her feet myself.”

Jon turned to her abruptly, one eyebrow raised. “Are you going to turn against your king, Arya and pledge your undying love and fealty to Daenerys Targaryen?”

She laughed. “I asked for that, I suppose, but no, Jon, you know where my loyalties lie.”

He nodded turning his attention back to the tree. “I do.”

“I’ll leave you to your prayers then, but make sure you get enough food and rest, we need you at your best for tomorrow’s meeting.”

“Of course.”

“And I’d check your clothing carefully before then too,” she added casually as she walked away. “Don’t want tongues to wag when they see that mark on your neck.”

“What?” Jon turned around, his hand automatically going to his throat, but his sister was already halfway out of the wood and he could do nothing more but glare at her back as she left. Was she teasing or … He pressed at the skin, only now becoming aware of a slight tenderness and a very specific memory from earlier. Yet another complication.

He sighed loudly, turned his attention back to the tree and finally managed to lose himself in prayer, only leaving the godswood when his teeth started to chatter and he belatedly realised just how cold it was becoming. He headed to the kitchens first, taking advantage of the constant fire there, quietly heating some water to make himself a warming drink and trying not to wake the sleeping kitchen children as he did so.

By the time Jon finally fell into bed, it was only a few hours from dawn, but he slept deeply and woke up feeling fairly refreshed and certainly in a better frame of mind to face the morning’s meeting than he had the previous day.

~o~0~o~

Jon was the last one to arrive in the meeting room, fervently wishing he was still playing the role of guard and could stand anonymously at the door as he had before. But the exceptionally tall Brienne of Tarth was now here to guard the Starks, whilst the Targaryen group had been given leave to bring in another representative to address the balance; Ser Jorah Mormont, originally of Bear Island.

Jon tried his best not to look at Daenerys as he took his seat at the table, although an accidental glance at her well-covered neck line made him suddenly conscious of the fur across his shoulders, hoping it was still in place but not daring to check in case the move drew attention to it. To make matters worse, his traitorous mind chose that moment to remind him of exactly what the two of them had been doing when they’d marked each other, the memory of her lips against his neck so real at that point, that Jon felt his heart rate start to increase and had to use all his will to force his body to relax. He closed his eyes and tried hard to focus on what Tyrion was saying, glaring a bit as the dwarf made the case for an all out attack on King’s Landing and suggested that their combined armies could fight on the ground whilst Daenerys flew in on her dragon.

“That is how you want to become queen?” Jon asked Daenerys, interrupting Tyrion and instantly breaking his own promise not to engage her this morning. “By terrorising the capital with fire and blood?”

Her returning look seemed half annoyed, half sly. “I thought you didn’t care about the south?”

“When did I say that?” he countered. “I said I didn’t care about the Iron Throne but, the people? Why would I want them slaughtered for such a cause?”

“But that is the point I’ve been trying to make,” Tryion interjected. “Yes, an attack on King’s Landing would mean casualties but I’m not sure you fully understand how much danger the small folk are already in. Food is now in short supply and Cersei hoards most of it for the rich. Any who speak up against her are brought in for questioning and routinely killed and she keeps the Gold Cloaks close, not caring about the lack of discipline in the city and how the gangs there prey on the weak. You assume she’s ruling the south as you’re ruling the north? With honour and benevolence? You’re wrong. Daenerys and I are planning this because we care about all of the people.”

“There must be another way,” Sansa said.

“If you have any other ideas, I’m all ears,” Tyrion replied pointedly.

“All right,” Jon said, running a hand over his face and scratching his beard, trying hard to see the situation from their point of view. “Let’s say we help you. Let’s say we’re throwing everything we’ve got at King’s Landing: Soldiers, Riders and dragons. What’s happening at Oldtown during this? What’s happening to the Riders and the people in that city once Cersei’s people hear of our attack on the capital?”

“The Riders might see that as an opportunity to rebel again,” Arya said, taking his point a step further, “and you can be certain that Cersei won’t allow it to happen. You know there’s no chance we can march down there without her hearing about it and you know she’ll put counter measures in place long before that. Any attack we initiate will make things worse for everyone, not better.”

“In the short term perhaps but ...”

“I understand your desire for justice and vengeance,” Jon said, “Honestly I do, but there has to be another way, a more cautious way? We have … friends in the south currently and I’m sure you do too so …?”

“Spies, you mean?” Tyrion asked, with a sly grin.

Jon nodded, not willing to reveal too much at this juncture. “We have a contact in Oldtown and another in King’s Landing. People whose family history help them to remain above suspicion.” He looked at Tyrion pointedly and the dwarf shrugged.

“We have Varys.”

“And?” he asked, but it was Daenerys who replied.

“He has numerous contacts all over Westeros and has had years of experience in information gathering. So, yes, we have eyes down there just as Cersei has them up here in the north.” Jon scoffed and shook his head. “You’d be a fool to think otherwise.”

Jon turned to glare at her. “A … what?”

“A poor choice of words, perhaps,” Daenerys replied, but her sly smile showed no hint of apology. “She will have spies here though, of that you can be certain.”

They made no further progress after that; Tyrion pushing for the north to join their fight whilst the Starks constantly tried to cautioned restraint. Every time there was talk of an all out attack, Jon bristled and when conversation turned to alternatives, Daenerys fumed. Jon could feel Sansa’s eyes on him near the end, as he clenched and unclenched his fists, staring daggers at the silver-haired queen whilst she glared back, and he found himself hoping that the churning emotion building up as he looked at her now was anger because the alternative was just far too dark to contemplate. This time he was the first one out of the door, no more than a heartbeat after the meeting was officially adjourned, almost running down the stairs and out the north exit of the Keep in his haste to reach the seclusion of his chambers.

“Jon!”

He snarled, turning to face Daenerys as she strode towards him with her bright eyes blazing. “Go away! I’m not in the mood.”

“Tough! You have to get over your damn honour and join me in this fight!”

“I do not have to do anything, your Grace.” He kept his voice quiet but the last two words had been heavily loaded, something Daenerys did not miss.

“Apparently not, your Grace. Apparently you can just sit up here nice and safe whilst the whole world collapses around you.”

He took a step forwards. “That’s unfair, Daenerys. You have no idea what I sacrificed for the realm. What part I played before and during the Battle for the Dawn.”

“You helped save them.” She nodded. “As did I and so now what? We just leave them to it? We save them from the Night King only to have them all be slaughtered by Cersei?”

He took another step forward, backing her up against a wall. Far too close. “We could, or perhaps we could just burn the whole of King’s Landing and slaughter them that way instead?”

“How dare you!” she snarled, placing her hands on his chest and half-heartedly shoving him. Jon didn’t budge and she didn’t move her hands, instead fisting them in the fur of his cloak as he she glared up at him and the look in her eyes was both terrifying and … incredibly arousing. He groaned and took one, final step forwards as their lips met in a harsh kiss.

‘Hit me,’ he silently willed her. ‘Push me away again and I’ll go.’ But, instead she uttered this small, soft noise - halfway between a groan and a whine - and opened her mouth, teasing his lips with her tongue as she slid her leg up the outside of his and Jon knew then that the battle was lost. This time it was Daenerys who pulled away, grabbing his hand and leading him towards his chambers. Jon opened his mouth several times, trying to say, ‘no’, ‘we can’t’, ‘we mustn’t’, but the words never emerged and, the next thing he knew, she was sitting on his desk, fully dressed but for her small clothes now left somewhere on his floor, with her hands down the front of his trousers and his caressing the inside of her bare thighs.

Their kissing was hungry, neither seeming able to pull apart, whilst their hands roughly pleasured the other, both quickly building the other towards climax. Jon pulled her hands off of him as he got a little too close, placing them on his shoulders instead, before opening her knees wider so he could slide two fingers inside her, revelling in the warm, wet heat.

“Yes,” she gasped, shuddering as she moved her hands up to his head and yanked his hair. Jon winced, allowing the pain to take the edge of his pleasure a little so he could focus his attention on her instead. Then she made that small whimpering sound which drove him wild, before hooking her legs around his hips, and Jon lost all remaining patience; one hand holding his cock ready to enter her, whilst the other pressed against her lower back and brought her to the front edge of the desk. Then he plunged inside her in one sudden movement and there was little finesse or tenderness to the act this time around, the two grabbing and moaning as they both attacked rather than loved, Jon not even slightly holding back whilst Daenerys continued to pull at his hair and gasp out encouragement; even daring to order him to be rougher with her, to go even faster.

‘Gods forgive me,’ he thought as he instantly obeyed.

And, just like the last time, Jon felt as if he was riding her in more ways than one, his mind skirting around the edge of hers as he sensed her feelings; a strange mess of contradictions that he recognised only too well, with desire currently the over-riding one. He was stunned to realise how much this beautiful woman was attracted to him, how desperately she wanted him, and was both relieved and shocked to discover how much pleasure she was experiencing, despite being perched awkwardly on the edge of a wooden desk whilst he pounded into her. What an odd experience, he decided, to be thrust into like that, to feel his own hair clasped between her fingers, his hands against her back, his mind inside hers …. which was also inside his … Her passion fuelling his, fuelling hers ...

“Daener… Dany … Oh, gods!” he cried as he spilled inside her and she buried her head in his cloak to muffle her own scream, shuddering and quivering in his arms. Darkness threatened again but Jon forced himself to breathe deeply and ride out the dizziness this time around, the thought of them both collapsing so close to hard edges enough to keep him conscious. The two of them stayed in that position for some time, both breathing heavily, until Jon felt Daenerys suddenly stiffen and quickly relaxed his hold of her.

She shoved his chest half-heartedly and Jon huffed out a laugh. “Now you decide to push me away?”

“I did before,” she said haughtily as she hopped off his desk and walked over to pick up her small clothes.

“Right?” he countered, lifting and retying his trousers. “Just before you yanked me closer, kissed me and dragged me in here?”

“Aw, is it now my turn to apologise to you for besmirching your honour?” she retorted as she headed towards the door. “As if we’re not in each other’s heads the whole time and know exactly what’s going on here.”

“Seriously?” he asked. “You actually know what’s going on here?”

Her glare disappeared and, for a brief moment, it looked as if she was about to laugh. “Not a clue, but I do know that enjoyed it and that you know that I did too.”

He shook his head, not exactly disagreeing but rather querying her choice of word. “Enjoy? Perhaps.”

And then that small smile returned. The one he’d seen during their first meeting that he had then thought was the real Daenerys, but now understood to be an act.

“Tell me, honestly, Jon Snow that that’s not the best fuck you’ve ever had. That I’m not the best you’ve ever had.”

Gods he wanted to be angry with her but it was quite impossible when she looked at him like that and he knew he hadn’t quite managed to school his own small smile at her comment.

“Get out of here, Daenerys Targaryen and take your pretty face and knowing smirk with you.”

Her final smile was lighter and Jon felt his heart rate speed up at the sight of her as she glided out of his door. She was right, of course, despite the confusion, despite the lack of control, being with her was amazing. She was amazing. He winced, trying to be angry with himself, trying to promise it would never happen again but knowing full well he was kidding himself. He now had her scent, had tasted her skin and ridden both her body and her mind. The two of them were bound together in a way he didn’t yet fully understand but somehow knew was significant.

With a deep sigh, Jon lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, the glorious image of Daenerys lying naked on his bed from the day before, sending him to sleep with a soft smile on his lips.

~o~0~o~

He was Ghost, running through the Wolfswood with his sister and small cousins - his pack - bounding behind him. The cold meant nothing to him in this form, the snow feeling soft beneath his paws, the wind caressing his fur rather than biting, and his nose following that strange foreign scent he’d first smelt during the great snow battle. He stopped, hackles rising automatically as the others growled behind him, but he had come here deliberately, seeking answers, and moved forwards nervously and cautious.

“He won’t harm you,” Jon said to his Familiar. “You are bonded to me and that protects you and our pack.”

Ghost knew that, of course, but the instinct was hard to over-ride all the same and, as he stepped into the clearing and saw the huge dragon curled up in a nest of blackened bones, Jon could feel his Familiar trembling, feel himself trembling, although it was the same thing, in truth. Sometimes, especially in his dreams, it was hard to know where the human part ended and the wolf part began.

Behind the largest black beast the smaller green one watched on, all the animals sizing each other up; body language and scent here far more important than the other senses. Ghost’s communication with Jon was hard to describe, but it felt more like an exchange of concepts, images and scents and today, unusually, Jon was struggling to understand why the direwolf had come here.

‘Dragon Rider. Wolf Rider. Strange blood. Strange Pack.’

“Pack?” Jon asked. “Which pack?”

‘Flight or Pack?’ Ghost wondered.

“I still don’t understand.”

‘Wolf takes Dragon mate?’

The dragons were leaning forwards too, curiosity radiating from their minds as they lowered their great heads and, as Ghost looked up and Drogon’s large eye loomed closer, Jon suddenly realised that Daenerys was in there - Riding him as he was Riding Ghost - and he could sense her embarrassment too, her struggle to explain that their Familiars had misinterpreted their relationship.

‘Have we?’

But, of course, to animals there was no such confusion. See a suitable female and, if she’s willing, mate with her. Was that the answer Jon had been searching for? Wargs bonded with their Familiars far more deeply than normal Riders after all. Had Jon simply been acting wolf, unable to control his base instincts when confronted by such a powerful and alluring female?

“For humans it’s more complicated,” Daenerys tried to explain, “and, anyway, my eggs are stone just like the ones you hatched from. There is no ‘mating’ in the way you understand the term. There will be no offspring here.”

Jon frowned on hearing this, remembering something from the last time he was in her mind but not having been able to fully understand it before. And what was going on here exactly? He was dream-Riding now, he knew. Lying in bed in his own chambers whilst Daenerys was in hers but … was this his dream, their dream, or were they actually here in the Wolfswood talking to each other via their Familiars?

“You can’t have children?” he asked her. “I think perhaps that was a conversation we should have had before yesterday?”

“Jon?”

“I-I think so. Mostly.” Oddly this discussion seemed a lot easier than all their previous ones. Their annoying human emotions apparently tempered by their Familiars’ more rational instincts. “What happened?” he asked her.

“Fell pregnant, miscarried and nearly died myself. Healers said there wasn’t much hope of another.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It usually hurts to much to discuss it, but somehow it’s easier talking this way.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “We should probably hold all our conversations like this.”

“All of them? And what of our other ... interactions?” He sensed her amusement. “You are still very beautiful in that form, Jon but it’s probably fortunate that I feel no desire to mount you right now.”

“What?” Ghost took a step back, ears flattened.

“Which is good in more ways than one, of course, because it means we can both talk without getting distracted.”

“You are very distracting as a human,” he admitted.

“As are you.” Drogon put his head back down on his front legs, eyes closing. “Anyway, as I seriously doubt we’ll be able to resist each other the next time we meet, it’s probably as well that there will be no added complications. I have a war to fight, even if you do not.” Ghost’s hackles automatically rose on hearing Daenerys’ not so subtle dig and one large eye lazily reopened to regard him. “You really want to fight me in our present forms, Jon? Seriously?“

“Our Familiars would not attack anyway.”

“Hmm, if you’re quite sure you want to take that chance.”

Ghost growled slightly. “I think that you are even more annoying as a dragon.”

“I am a dragon, Jon Snow and you are a direwolf. There is no going back once the bond is made. No putting the dragon back in the egg. I thought you understood that.”

“It is starting to make more sense, yes.”

“And yet, there is some dragon in you, I can sense that now, which perhaps helps answer your Familiar’s question as to why you chose me?”

“Chose?”

If the dragon had been able to shrug he would have. “Why you fucked me then.”

His ears flattened again, strangely offended at the use of the word to describe something which had felt so good at the time. “It was more than that … to both of us.”

“Such an emotional little wolf,” she scolded him.

“I shall remind you of that next time you’re gasping my name in my ear.”

“I’m sure you will.” The dragon closed his eyes again. “I’m tired now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“And I have to hunt,” the direwolf replied. “Goodnight.”

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Act Two: Battle

Ten Weeks Later

Daenerys

Deep, dark eyes regarded her as battle-hardened hands ran snow-soft over her bare skin. A tender kiss placed on her lips, then a lick, and her giggle managed to pull out one of Jon’s rare smiles as he ran his tongue across her cheek just like the wolf he Rode.

He moved position then, kneeling up on the furs by her shoulders, before lowering his head back down to kiss between her breasts, teasing and licking for ages until he eventually gave into her begging and suckled at her hungrily; first one nipple, than the other. His mouth lazily continued its journey downwards as he lay next to her, kissing her stomach, then her hips and Daenerys smirked, pleased that this new position placed his hips temptingly close to her own lips. She shifted onto her side so she was better able to stroke and lick his hard length, her insides twisting both at the thought of it being inside her and in anticipation of the attention she was about to get from Jon who was now teasing her with the lightest of kisses around her hips and inner thighs.

“My beautiful Dany,” he murmured.

Out there she was always Daenerys, his tone clipped and sarcastic but here, in their isolated sanctuary, it was Dany, and always uttered with a soft, thickly accented voice, full of love.

Love?

They had come to an unspoken understanding over the last couple of months. During the meetings the two Wargs allowed Tyrion and Sansa to do most of the talking in order to avoid confrontation, although they had become less hostile as compromises were reached and the other point of view became clearer. Afterwards one would leave promptly and silently whilst the other followed shortly afterwards, both heading to the uppermost room of the Broken Tower where their own, private meeting would be less audible. This encounter usually started with petty bickering about what had been discussed earlier and ended with the pair naked, sweaty and breathless. Out loud they would acknowledge what happened here only as base desire, a scratch needing to be itched, raw animal instinct fuelled by their Familiars’ wildness, even though they both knew, deep down, that the truth was considerably more complex than that. They could not truly deny their feelings, anyway. Not when, in their moments of intimacy, they understood the other’s mind almost as well as their own.

And so, it was only here in this tower, during the height of passion, that they allowed themselves to voice some measure of the truth; gasping the other’s name, begging for more and uttering words of endearment as they rode sweet waves of desire and explored each other both inside and out. Afterwards, lying languidly on the pile of furs brought up here for their comfort, the pair would deny what had just happened with their words, even as fingers and lips continued to hint at the truth.

And, oh, how sweet Jon’s fingers and lips were. Dany continued to be delighted and surprised at how generous he was as a lover, pushing her over the edge time and time again before entering her to take his turn and, even then, he wasn’t rough – not unless she begged him to be.

Not that such encounters between them were ever likely to be one-sided. Daenerys now wriggled down the furs a little, ignoring Jon’s complaint as his own quest was interrupted, in order to indulge her own hunger, taking him full into her mouth and smiling as her sudden move managed to wrest the most beautiful sound from him. He allowed it for a while, lying back as she explored him gently with her mouth, tongue and hands before becoming rapidly more aggressive, pulling off him abruptly before devouring him whole once again.

She repeated these moves a few more times until she felt him stiffen suddenly and his soft growl of contentment changed to one of frustration as he moved, lightening fast, kneeling up to grab her ankles, pulling them up onto his shoulders and spinning her around on her back so quickly that her head slid off the furs and bumped against the rough stone of the floor. Jon then dived down between her legs so fast and plunged his tongue into her so deeply that Dany had no time to register any pain in her head, just waves and waves of pleasure as he devoured her.

“Yes, Jon,” she gasped. “My beautiful, hungry wolf. I’m so … so close!”

“Mine,” he growled possessively, as he eased off just enough to focus on the one spot he knew would send her over the edge and then, whilst she was still shuddering from the high, he moved again, sitting up, bending her knees towards her chest and entering her in one, brisk move, rolling inside her as she clenched and twitched - still so sensitive - smirking with delight at how thoroughly he’d undone her. She dragged her eyes open then, watching him, watching her as she enjoyed the extended ecstasy, and then his eyes closed as her spasms pleasured him in turn and she smirked at the reaction, deliberately clenching and relaxing to see what effect it would have on him. She did this randomly at first, but then harder and more rhythmically until Jon realised what she was doing and opened his eyes again, grinning wildly at her.

“Gods, the sight of you!” he said, withdrawing slightly, his gaze dropping downwards as he watched himself sliding in and out of her.

He didn’t last very long after that but Dany was now so sensitive that she was still able to find her pleasure one final time; her cry of his name muffled by his lips as he kissed her hard. What was this annoying northerner doing to her? How was he so easily able to reduce her to a soft, needy little girl?

Afterwards she snuggled up to him as he wrapped one of the larger furs over them and Jon pulled her close, rubbing a gentle hand over the back of her head whilst placing a soft kiss on the top.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m starting to become aware of it now,” she said. “That floor is hard.”

“I got a bit carried away,” he admitted, sleepily. “I’ll-” He stopped, sighing.

“What?”

“I was going to say that I’d bring more furs up for next time but ...”

She felt a strange ache as the memory hit home. “But, you’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Aye. Heading for Torrhen’s Square as per Your Grace’s command.”

She glared at his dig, even with her head buried against his shoulder. “This will work, you know? We can win this.”

“I still say it’s a stupid idea, hastily thought out,” he grumbled, his tone aggressive, even as his finger gently stroked her arm and made her shudder. She almost laughed at the odd contradiction, thinking how well it summed up their relationship.

“Did Tyrion talk to you?” Dany asked him then. “Or Sansa?”

“What? About us? About … this?”

“Well, I was talking more about their recent discussion about a possible marriage alliance between us.”

Jon chuckled. “Gods, can you imagine? We’d more likely bring destruction to the realm than peace if we were forced into such a thing.”

“Yes, I know. The only time we agree on anything is when we’re fucking.”

“Huh.”

She grinned, knowing how much he disliked the word. “And, although that is one thing that is supposed to happen in a marriage my … situation makes that irrelevant anyway.” She sighed. “Well, I told Tyrion that, tried to explain that if you and I marry each other then neither of us can produce an heir and so, well, that sort of cancels out the whole point of a marriage alliance, doesn’t it?”

Jon took a while to answer and, with her head against his chest, she was unable to guess at his expression as he cautiously spoke. “Dany, I had wanted to ask but … well, we don’t usually have … personal conversations so I wasn’t sure if I should?”

“No, it’s all right. Go ahead.” Strangely she felt she could answer any question, no matter how intimate, mostly because Jon now knew so much of what was inside her head anyway. She pulled away very slightly to look at him, only to find his gaze now fixed firmly on the ceiling.

“We’ve been doing this pretty much every day since you arrived ten weeks ago,” he began.

She giggled. “And quite often more than once.”

“Aye, only you’ve not … bled once during that time, as far as I know, and I … ah ...”

She smiled, amused at his embarrassment at discussing such things.

“My cycle’s never been right since I miscarried. For some time afterwards I didn’t bleed at all, in fact.”

“I just wanted to be certain because … well, if there was any chance at all then I would marry you, no matter how … odd our relationship is.”

She nodded. “And, as I said, it would make sense for me to have an heir but ...” She closed her eyes to try and hide the fact her eyes were misting over.

“I’m sorry … that’s why I didn’t mention it before.”

Jon was holding her close now and Daenerys tried hard not to think about how good it felt to be comforted in this way. Or about how she was going to have to let him go. How they would not be anywhere near each other for the next several weeks. How she was probably going to have to watch him marry another woman and give her his child instead. She allowed herself to cry then and Jon continued to hold her, whispering comforting nonsense in her ear until she found her eyelids growing heavy.

~o~0~o~

“I should probably go.” Jon’s soft words woke her back up with a start.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Not long,” he replied, “but it’s late in the afternoon now and I really do need to make sure everything is ready for tomorrow.”

“What’s to plan that hasn’t been discussed and prepared numerous times?” She snuggled closer. “Stay a little longer, Jon, I’m too warm and comfy to move.” He sighed, pulling her up against him and she again quickly found herself dosing.

She woke again to Jon’s quiet snoring and leant away to look at him, her stomach jolting slightly as she took note of his relaxed features and the way the candlelight flickered across his skin.

‘You’ve no right to look so beautiful,’ she thought to herself as she gazed at him, taking this rare chance to fully study his features without being distracted by sarcastic comments or overwhelming desire. Temptation soon got the better of her though and she pulled the furs down very slightly, admiring his toned shoulders and chest, frowning slightly at the scars that decorated so much of his skin. A true warrior, she realised, wishing she could have seen him in action properly during the Battle for the Dawn, rather than the few vague images she’d received via Drogon.

In that odd memory she could only recall her dragons’ sense of someone powerful, along with the image of a small, black figure moving and spinning with such speed that it would be easy to mistake him for another Familiar; a shadow cat on its hind legs, dancing in the centre of a pack of grey wolves.

She moved the furs lower still, her heart rate increasing as she admired the pronounced muscles of his abdomen and Jon squirmed a little as the cool air started to register. She traced a lazy finger across his stomach and then lower to his hips and he gasped slightly, apparently still asleep.

“Dany ...”

Her breath caught on hearing him say her name in that way and she wondered if he was dreaming of her. She then watched, fascinated, as he licked his lips and his fingers opened and closed as if caressing her in his sleep. Unable to resist, she slowly moved up onto her knees, lifting one of his hands and placing it high on her lap and her whole body shuddered as his fingers automatically slid up between her legs whilst Jon groaned and shifted slightly. Curious about his reaction she pulled the furs back even further and smirked when she saw how turned on he was.

“Somebody’s ready to go again,” she whispered, quickly straddling his hips and starting to rub herself up against him.

She had thought perhaps Jon was only feigning sleep but now she wasn’t so sure. As she continued to slide up and down, she leant forward over his chest so she could study his expression and listen to his breathing, trying to work out just how conscious he was of what she was doing. She still hadn’t come to a definite conclusion when he gasped, opening his eyes in surprise.

“What?”

“Were you having a nice dream?” she asked slyly, still moving seductively over him.

“Dany … what? I really do need to-” She sat up and quickly adjusted them both, dropping down onto him in one fluid motion. ”Oh!”

“Yes, Jon?” she asked as she began riding him. “What do you need to do?”

“You,” he replied with barely a pause. “At least once more.”

“But you need to get ready for tomorrow,” she said, enjoying the teasing as much as the lovely feeling of having him pressed deep inside her.

“Aye,” he replied, as one hand rested on her hip to help guide her movements and the other slid between her legs to caress her. “There are a few things I need to check, but it appears that I need to see to you first.”

“Yes,” she gasped, losing herself in the moment, already feeling her pleasure mount. “I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss-”

“-Don’t say it,” he growled, rolling her over and then lifting her right leg high, causing her to yelp. “It’s your stupid plan.” His voice was now as aggressive as his movements were as he pushed into her hard, employing his unique gift of appearing impatient for his own release, whilst simultaneously managing to hit all her most sensitive spots. “All your fault.”

She cried out, not only because of his forceful thrusts and her own pleasure but also because of the waves of emotion that were now pulsing through her. Jon wasn’t angry with her, she realised, he was devastated ... as was she. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, none of it was.

Afterwards he collapsed down on top of her with something that sounded like a sob, rolling her quickly into his arms and pulling her close to him yet again. Once his breathing had slowed he spoke once more, his voice now sounding much calmer.

“Now I really must go.”

She sighed. “I understand.” She still felt very sleepy but managed to force her eyes open to discover Jon’s face almost touching hers, his eyes full of the emotions that they were both trying so hard to deny.

“Please be careful,” he said, kissing her gently on the lips.

“You too.”

She fell into a half doze, only vaguely aware of Jon moving around the tower room as he got dressed, before his soft voice sounded close to her again, “Dany?”

“Hmm?” She opened her eyes to find him fully dressed kneeling beside her as he bent down to give her a long, lingering kiss which had her insides clenching and her eyes stinging. Then he was gone and she groaned, turning to bury her head back into the furs.

~o~0~o~

“So good of you to join us,” Tryion said sarcastically as Daenerys came out from the Guest House the following morning. She’d fallen back asleep after Jon had left the tower last night, only returning to her own bed and hour or so before dawn. As a result she’d woken up late and was feeling exhausted emotionally and physically as she stood with her party in a packed Winterfell courtyard to see the first half of their combined army off on their journey south.

She ignored her Hand, simply rolling her eyes at his comment, before her gaze fell on Jon who was prowling confidently around the space, talking to various soldiers, checking everything was in order and even absent-mindedly reassuring the horses as he walked past them. Despite the tales her Hand and others had told about the northern king’s role in the Battle for the Dawn, his reluctance to engage in this fight had made it hard for Dany to associate the man she fought with and fucked, with the image they had painted but now, finally, she saw ‘Jon Snow The Hero’ and the little twist she felt in her stomach on seeing him take quiet command now made her even more painfully aware of the harshness of this separation.

She was an idiot. Yes he was a generous and skilled lover and obviously she was going to miss that side of their relationship, but the rest? The bickering and the glares he threw her way which hurt her so much more than she’d ever thought possible? The confusion of her own emotions? The lack of privacy when he was so often in her head, knowing her darkest secrets? She certainly would miss none of that.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Tyrion said then, his voice surprisingly soft. “Jon Snow is a hard man to kill.”

She snapped her head down to glare at him. “I’m not worried.”

He shook his head, smirking slightly. “Of course not, Your Grace.” She turned away, scowling, trying hard not to rise to her Hand’s teasing.

Jon’s army consisted mostly of his own northmen but had been supplemented by many of Daenerys’ troops and also included a number of key fighters and leaders from both sides, including Grey Worm and Ser Jorah. In return some of his soldiers and key personnel would be journeying south with her, whilst others from both parties would remain in Winterfell. It was one of Tyrion and Sansa’s many clever compromises, a way of ensuring that both sides had representatives in all three groups - somewhere between consultants and hostages - with fighters and Riders also carefully assigned where they would be of most use. As Jon’s group made to leave, their commander appeared restless, apparently working hard to avoid her gaze, moving instead to consult with Bran and Sansa who had now entered the courtyard to say farewell and give their final instructions.

“I don’t see why you’re both being so coy?” Tyrion teased. “You do realise that everyone knows what the two of you have been up to, right?” She glared at him again. “You didn’t honestly think you were keeping your little trysts a secret?”

“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” she retorted. “You included.”

“You wound me, Your Grace,” he retorted unemotionally. “All I was trying to say was that there’s no need for the two of you to put up such a stoic front. You might as well say a proper farewell, give your lover a tender kiss and wish for his safe return.”

“And that simply proves how little you truly understand about our relationship.”

Tyrion smirked. “I know you want us to believe you’re just two attractive people fucking each other for the sake of it. I even think a part of you believes that too but ...”

Fortunately Jon chose that moment to approach and so her Hand was forced into silence, stepping forward and holding out his hand for the young king to shake.

“Good fortune, Your Grace,” he said. “I know there is no commander I would trust more with such an important mission.”

Jon’s smile was small and polite, although Dany understood better than most how uncertain he still was about the plan. “Thank you. We will send birds as often as possible.” His gaze dropped, his brow furrowed and it was a few heartbeats before he turned his head towards her, his dark gaze suddenly holding hers and making it hard for her to breathe. “Your Grace?” he said stiffly. “I wish you good fortune in your own mission.”

He held his hand out to her and she went to take it, suddenly very aware that the two of them now had the full attention of the whole courtyard. Tyrion’s sarcastic comment had confirmed what she had already suspected. Everyone here not only knew about their odd love/hate relationship but were actually fascinated by it, no doubt taking bets as to whether they’d acknowledge it publicly here by kissing each other or … perhaps hitting each other? With the smallest hint of a smirk, Jon decided on a polite compromise, lifting her gloved hand to his lips and kissing the back of it very lightly.

“I fear that this southern conflict will seem quite dull compared to our northern one,” she replied with an amused smile of her own, “and Cersei a poor substitute sparring partner.”

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes never leaving her and sparkling with suppressed amusement. “I do believe you are correct.”

His eyes spoke volumes, but they had said their proper farewell late last night and this certainly wasn’t the place to get emotional. With a half-smile and a nod of the head, Jon turned on his heels and headed to his own horse, mounting it with confidence and leading his army out without once looking back. Dany turned and headed back into the Guest House with a small sigh, determined to not give anyone further cause for gossip.

It was ridiculous really, she thought, as she headed back to her room in order to catch up on her sleep. She never had been the emotional and clingy type. She was a Warg and a queen with just one true goal; to overthrow Cersei and bring justice to the people of the realm. That was all she cared about. That and her dragons. Nothing else. No-one else.

She blinked back tears, trying to convince herself that her overly-emotional state was simply due to exhaustion as she lay down on her bed and happily succumbed to sleep. It was a actually a good thing he was gone now. No more fights, no more odd sleep patterns due to their tower ‘meetings’, no more restless nights dream-Riding – something she had rarely experienced as an adult before meeting Jon.

She was only just fallen asleep when she was being gently awoken by Missandei who reminded her that the morning meetings were continuing, with others drafted in to take the place of those who had just left. Today the discussions would focus on Daenerys’ part of the campaign and the final plans for her army’s journey south in just a few days time. With a loud sigh, she got back out of bed and allowed her friend to help her get smartened up.

~o~0~o~

That night Dany dreamt she was Drogon again, opening her eyes to a silent forest and strangely missing the howling which had so annoyed her on the first night here. A glance towards Rhaegal revealed the green to be asleep and so she stood, stretching her tail and wings and looking upward at the moon as it peeked out from behind a cloud, fighting the odd urge to howl at it herself.

Then she was flying. Circling the Wolfswood a couple of times, before spiralling in an even increasing circle until she saw what she was looking for; tents camped in the trees south-west of Winterfell and there, in a clearing a little away from the group, a single speck of white.

She circled once more before landing in front of Ghost.

“I wondered if you’d come,” he said.

“I hadn’t really thought about it one way or another,” she admitted.

The direwolf lifted his head, his red eyes just as expressive as the brown ones she was used to. “Are you well? You did not seem yourself earlier.”

She found the comment amusing. “Myself? What is that for a Warg anyway?”

“True.”

“You made good time today?”

“For an army this size, yes? Although … how long did it take you to get here?”

“A dozen wing beats, no more.”

The wolf tipped his head to one side. “You know, all that discussion about sending the Rider-birds back to Winterfell with news and it never dawned on me that you and I have a far easier way of keeping in touch.”

“For now. Not so easy when when it will take me half the night to fly to your position.”

“True.”

Despite the lack of emotion when she was Drogon, Dany couldn’t help but feel frustrated by this meeting. It was good to be able to talk to Jon without all the arguments but the human part of her missed him, even though he was effectively standing right in front of her. Her sleepy mind drifted to the previous night in the tower and how it had felt to be held in his arms and the warmth of his body and mind as she had skirted around it, and she couldn’t help but push towards him, urgently needing a little more intimacy despite the current situation.

“What are you doing?” The direwolf took a small step backwards, ears flattening as he felt her presence in his head.

“I … I’m not sure.” She had only wanted to feel the comfort of his human part but, in their current state, such a move was potentially very dangerous.

“Save that trick for Cersei’s Riders,” he complained. “The last thing you need is for your key commander and his Familiar to be disabled.”

She scoffed. “As if I’d be able to over-Ride a fellow Warg.”

“You might if my guard was down and, as I’ve said before, you are highly distracting.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment but, you’re right, best not take any chances.”

“Yes, but at least you reminded me how it felt.” The wolf tipped his head again. “Maybe the three of us should have practised that when we were at Winterfell?”

“Not an easy nor a safe thing to practice on family and friends?”

“No.” Another tip of the head and the human part of her couldn’t help but think how cute he looked when he did that. “Are we friends now then?”

Drogon snorted as he readied himself to fly off. “What have I said before about getting over-emotional, little wolf?”

Ghost’s tongue lolled out in a feral smile. “Better take your own advice, dragon queen. You were just in my head, remember? I know exactly what you’re feeling and why you flew here to meet with me tonight.”

She took off without responding to him, grumbling all the way back to her lair.

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Jon

The first part of the army took far longer to reach Torrhen’s Square than expected due to the poor weather and their large numbers. However, despite the cold and the numerous small but annoying problems they encountered along the way, Jon realised he felt far more comfortable in the role of commander than he did as king.

Birds sent regular messages back and forth between the army and Winterfell; Missandei’s mynah regularly appearing for Greyworm with news from Daenerys, whilst Jon received similar updates from one of Bran’s many ravens. He had Edd and his crow here as his personally assigned bird-Rider but preferred to send his news home via the ravens where possible, knowing that information relayed between two Wargs would be very much more reliable. In addition, Ghost still met up with Drogon most nights, as Winterfell was still not far away for two large wings and four fast paws.

Jon was still deciding what to do with his Familiar once they took to the seas as he knew his direwolf would not do well on a ship. He was fairly confident that their exceptionally strong bond should allow them to remain in contact across the water, and having Ghost on land to act as an emergency messenger could be useful too. It was true that the wolf was not as flexible as birds or dragons in that regard, but he would be considerably less obvious, able to skulk through the woodlands during the night and not draw attention to himself as flying Familiars tended to.

Torrhen’s Square sat on the northern edge of a large lake and, when Jon’s army finally arrived, it was to discover the harbour packed with Greyjoy ships ready and waiting for them to load up for the long journey south. The young king moved with his party of advisors to greet Theon and his sister Yara, fighting to put his emotions to one side as he approached the pair. He had never got along especially well with his father’s ward when they were growing up together in Winterfell, but recent events had caused him to become even more confused about his feelings regarding the young man. Theon had done some terrible things whilst Jon had been studying beyond the Wall and yet had also suffered numerous hardships as a direct result of them. Justice perhaps? Certainly there was little sign of the cock-sure youth he had sparred and snarked with as a boy, and yet this pale shadow made Jon feel uneasy in other ways that he couldn’t quite explain. Should he hate the man he used to be or feel pity for the broken remnant who now stood in front of him? Theon looked up at Jon and winced, his gaze dropping straight back down to his boots and Jon, feeling awkward, turned to the sister, finding her a far easier prospect to deal with.

“Your Grace,” she said respectfully although her stance and expression seemed anything but. “My ships are at your command.”

“Thank you, Yara. Any idea when we’ll be able to depart?”

“The weather is set fair for the next few days,” she replied with a casual shrug. “So it depends on your men really.” She smirked. “I do hope they have strong stomachs though, as the seas are rarely calm during winter.”

Jon pulled a face. “Aye, it was a deciding factor in choosing which troops to send where, in fact. Most of the Dothraki have remained with Queen Daenerys.”

She grinned slyly again. “And you, Your Grace?”

He shrugged. “I am a wolf, in more ways than one - a land animal in truth - but am able to keep my feet and my stomach in all but the very worst storms.”

“I would expect nothing else from the famed Jon Snow,” Yara said with a slight smile. “Come, let us introduce you to our captains. Most of them are grumpy and irascible, but act like the king you are, and I swear that they’ll give you no trouble.”

He followed her confident stride, nodding at her brother as he fell into step beside him. “Theon.”

“Jon.” There was a pause. “How’s Sansa and … everyone?”

“All well when I left.”

He noticed Theon frown, considering his next words carefully. “And so we’re fighting for Daenerys Targaryen now?”

“We have an alliance with her, Aye.”

“I hear you were … pushed into that?”

Jon turned sharply towards him, eyebrows raised. “Pushed? Is that what you heard?”

Theon winced. “The word … seduced may have been used but-”

“-I heard that one too.” He shook his head when it seemed Theon might comment further. “But there are more important things to discuss right now.”

“Of course ...” He frowned. “… Your Grace.”

Jon couldn’t help but feel amused at the man’s struggle to use his title. How things had changed.

~o~0~o~

The journey to the Iron Islands was suitably unpleasant and Jon spent most of it bored and irritable. It didn’t help that many of those men he was closest to had been assigned to Daenerys’ army and those assigned to him were perhaps not the best choices to help keep him from his brooding. Not only that but he seemed to have acquired the quiet, glowering Grey Worm and Ser Jorah as his almost constant shadows; an unfortunate side-effect of their awkward alliance, with both sides wanting advisors they could trust keeping an eye on the other army.

Jon was especially uncomfortable in Mormont’s company, only too aware of the knight’s feelings for Daenerys. He felt that the older man was constantly on the verge of approaching the delicate subject with him and had no idea how he would respond if he did. Telling Jorah that he was merely the queen’s lover and nothing else, felt no better than admitting that he had some deeper feelings for her and so he fervantly hoped the knight would keep his thoughts to himself. At least Jon had Davos with him, a man who seemed to have quietly adopted the young king as a surrogate son, even if he had no idea what he had done to have inspired such quiet loyalty.

A violent storm arrived at the islands at the same time as they did and appeared determined to stay for a while, circling Pyke constantly and forcing Jon and his army to remain as guests for longer than originally planned. They urgently needed to get a message out to Daenerys to explain the delay and so, when the Riders were reluctant to send their birds out in such severe weather, Jon said he would give it a try.

“What can you do?” Jorah asked him.

“Hopefully contact my direwolf who’s on shore,” he replied. “I’d already had him move east, in fact, so that he’d be closer to the King’s Road.”

“He’s still not going to be able to get close enough to the queen for you to pass a message onto her,” Edd said.

Jon pulled a face, knowing how hard this was going to be for regular Riders to understand, never mind the Outsiders here, especially given how reluctant he was to discuss his unique communication with the queen.

“I think perhaps I can pull it off when I’m asleep,” he said, hoping they wouldn’t push him too much. “You know how more instinctive these things are during dreams and I have … a few tricks up my sleeve, so to speak.”

The only problem was that his dream meetings with Daenerys had never been planned and had become considerably less frequent the further south they had all travelled. By now though, her army should be at Moat Cailin and, assuming she hadn’t decided to fly back to Winterfell for any reason, she and Drogon shouldn’t be too far away from Ghost’s current position.

Jon decided to start the attempt whilst awake, lying on his back on his bed and reaching his mind out as he attempted to connect to his direwolf. He immediately felt a slight pull to the north, very slightly east, and smiled at his success, allowing his thoughts to travel in that direction and trying to get his Familiar’s attention. No regular Rider would have a hope of doing this from such a distance but Jon was relying on his uniquely strong bond and special abilities and, if that didn’t work, he would try to fall asleep whilst thinking of this problem to see if that made the connection any easier.

And then he felt it; a sudden snap as his mind seemed to hurtle across the rough sea, over to the Neck and to the edge of the forest there, and then … he was Ghost.

“We need to find Drogon,” Jon explained to his direwolf.

‘Flew close night past.’

And then they were moving north-east on four paws, heading towards Moat Cailin. But how could he contact Dany’s Familiar?

‘Dragon will not talk to me,” Ghost told him, “but can hear you.’

Jon frowned, confused. “Because of my connection to Daenerys?”

‘No. Blood bond.’

“What?” Where had he heard that before?

‘There.’

Jon knew, via Ghost, that the dragon was on his way but, even in this form, his human senses tended to restrict his instincts and so it was a little while before he saw the black shadow moving across the dark sky towards their position.

“This is so much harder than I thought it would be,” he admitted as the odd vision appeared to shift and blur slightly.

Drogon landed in front of Ghost soon after, but there seemed to be no communication for a while, the two Familiars simply eyeing one another. Jon tried to push his awareness into the dragon but could do very little over such a distance - Ghost had been challenging enough - and then, just as he was about to give up and try again later, he felt it. It was a mere whisper, so much quieter than their previous conversations, but then ... she was there.

“Jon?”

It worked. “We couldn’t get the birds out to you,” he explained.

“What happened?” she asked. “Where are you?”

“Pyke.”

“Really? Impressive.”

“I’m not sure if this will be possible as we move further apart though.”

“Maybe not but, if we keep practising?”

“Perhaps. Anyway, just in case I get pulled back I’d better be quick. You’re getting bad weather here too, I see, but it’s severe on Pyke right now. Yara reckons we’ll be stuck on the islands for at least another week.”

Drogon lowered his head until his muzzle was really close to the wolf’s nose. “I’ll come flying this way every night then? Halfway between Pyke and Cailin?”

“Yes,” Jon agreed. “This is starting to hurt, Dany, I need get back now.”

“All right, but slowly, remember? You know what will happen if you snap out too quickly.” Drogon started to turn away but, despite the distance, Jon sensed a strange emotion and called her back.

“Dany?”

Ghost backed up as the dragon’s neck snapped quickly around towards him. “Yes?”

“Are you … all right?”

Deep orange eyes regarded the wolf for a long time. “Yes. Just impatient to get this over and done with. These delays are … making me nervous.”

“I know just how you feel.”

“Go now, you really shouldn’t be Riding Ghost from so far away.”

The direwolf watched the dragon fly away, whilst Jon started to think of Pyke and his chambers there and very slowly allowed himself to relax. He heard Ghost whine and then his consciousness was rushing back over snow covered shrub, then woods, then water and then …

“Urgh!”

Jon scrambled up from his bed, heading for the chamber pot in his room and feeling as if he wanted to throw up. Fortunately he had managed a certain amount of control on the return journey and, after taking several deep breaths, the uncomfortable sensations began to ease. Hauling himself back up, Jon poured himself a small goblet of weak wine and returned to his bed, lying down heavily and closing his eyes whilst he waited for everything to stop spinning. He wondered then if he would have to attempt that feat again when he was back on board the ship and just the thought was enough for his nausea to return. Soon though, he managed to get up for long enough to undress before returning to his bed for the night and falling quickly asleep.

He dreamt he was flying through the air as Ghost; a white, winged direwolf heading north to Winterfell and gliding through the uppermost window of the Broken Tower where Daenerys was waiting for him; warm, soft and naked, buried under a pile of dark furs.

Some time later Jon woke up breathless, emotional and turned on, after a highly erotic dream, hating to admit how much he was missing her, even here in the privacy of his own head.

~o~0~o~

A week later the weather finally eased and soon the fleet were sailing again, heading south towards Oldtown. They were now two weeks over their original five week plan and more storms were rolling up from the south, with the wind set to blow against them for most of the journey. Jon paced his cabin, frustrated. The longer they were delayed the more chance there was that Cersei would learn of their movements and their element of surprise, such as it was, would be lost. At least his ability to keep in touch with Daenerys via Ghost was helping to keep their plan alive for the time being, even if the effort of extreme Riding combined with rough sea travel was not doing much for his health. Fortunately, a few nights later, the wind changed in their favour and by dawn the following day their fleet was rushing past the Shield Islands, the Ironborn whooping in delight at the sudden change of speed, and even Jon managed to smile as he came up on deck and saw the hints of bright winter-blue sky peeking out from behind the snow-grey clouds.

Later that night Ghost and Drogon met in the middle of the vast sprawling farmlands of The Reach whilst, back on the ship, Jon ground his teeth and tried to focus on talking to Daenerys from such a very great distance.

“Tomorrow?” he managed to ask.

“Yes. Heavy rain here but we should be ready.”

He wanted to stay there with her. He wanted to tell her that he missed her smile, the taste of her skin and the comforting warmth of her body and mind as he slipped inside her but, what would be the point? Regardless of the nature of their odd relationship, practicality dictated that he couldn’t remain here, even if this method of communication was far more immediate than Rider-birds with the news guaranteed to get straight to the queen. So, with the vital information relayed, Jon relaxed and very slowly allowed his mind to float back west, noting with detached interest that the fleet had now passed Bandallon.

Their battle for Oldtown would begin the following day whilst, in the east, Daenerys Targaryen would start her own, simultaneous attack on King’s Landing.

~o~0~o~

A light squall greeted them the following morning although the Ironborn seemed exceptionally unconcerned, even believing it would give them a slight advantage with the strong wind still running in their favour. The enemy fleet came into view as they rounded Blackcrown and Jon squinted into the grey mist in order to make out the numbers and sigils.

“What do you think?” he asked Yara.

“The same as we have in this main group?” she guessed, “and not all of them Ironborn by the look of it which should give us the advantage.”

“We’ll need to be careful though,” Theon said, “Euron is famed for using any methods at his disposal to ensure a victory.”

“Jon!” Edd was at his side, pulling at his sleeve and pointing upwards. “That seagull is being Ridden.”

He nodded, lifting his head up towards the bird. “On it.” And he pushed his mind forwards, latching on to the swirling thoughts.

“Damn sea-birds,” Edd grumbled, “far more suited to this sort of weather.”

“True,” Jon agreed, “but they’re nowhere near as bright as the corvids which makes them very easy to over-Ride.”

He focused, hands clenched as he pushed his own thoughts into the bird and shoved the Rider’s consciousness out with very little effort on his part. The seagull squawked, flapping his wings in a panic as it dropped like a stone towards the waves and Jon grinned bleakly at the brief flash of human emotion he’d sensed before the man had blacked out.

“One down,” he declared, instantly looking back up at the sky to scan for more.

It was vitally important that the enemy fleet were not able get a close look at them or land their birds on deck where they could cause some subtle mischief and so, from that point onwards, Jon’s mind was focused almost entirely on searching out flying Familiars and knocking their Riders out of their heads. This was a unique Warg ability and one which put them at a huge advantage during this fight - with Daenerys able to do the same thing to the Familiars around King’s Landing - preventing the enemy from gaining any tactical advantage whilst their own Riders could go in unchallenged.

But, just as Jon was feeling smug about that, he heard Edd gasp next to him and turned to see his friend collapse in a heap on the deck next to him.

“No.” He dropped down to his knees, discovering that the man was unconscious and a sudden fear gripped him as he realised what that meant. “Riders, retreat!” he shouted. “They have a Warg of their own.”

He looked up as numerous birds sped towards their ships, trying to determine friend from foe. Ghost would not be in danger, of course, and so Jon should also be safe but … he was getting a sense of dread here. A familiar feeling of a very powerful animal presence. Something large and magical and …

“Kraken!”

The ship lurched to one side as a monstrous creature rose up near the prow of their ship and Jon had to grab at the rail to stop his body from falling, whilst his mind reeled from the strength of the contact with the creature which was quite obviously being Ridden. If one of those arms touched him there was a slim chance his Rider could grab hold of his mind, but such concerns were nothing compared to the issue of what that creature could physically do to their ships.

A loud crack from the starboard side had Jon turning to see a massive, long limb crash down on one vessel, splintering it instantly. Behind him Yara was yelling at the sailors to tack and turn and manoeuvre the ships away from the beast as quickly as possible but, when Jon saw the next tentacle emerge at the opposite end of the fleet, he knew it was hopeless. How could any of them get away from that?

“You need to get closer to land!” he shouted at Yara.

She shook her head. “The rocks.”

“It’s the only way. We cannot win this battle on the water now.” He looked over to Theon who was staring at the kraken, wide eyed and fearful, and strode forward, shaking him to gain his attention whilst Yara went back to barking orders.

“Who’s the Warg, Theon?”

“I … I think it’s our uncle Euron but ...”

Jon grabbed the front of the young man’s tunic, snarling. “You didn’t think perhaps that was information I needed to have before today?”

“No, but he was just an ordinary Rider, I thought. Talented but … a Sleeper and then … then he went to Essos and ...” Theon swallowed, terrified, as Jon continued to hold onto him firmly.

“Learnt from the Riders over there, no doubt.” He grumbled at the irony. The whole point of him, Bran and Arya training away from the Seven Kingdoms was so they could keep their abilities quiet from Cersei. Unfortunately, that worked both ways and Euron had apparently managed to bond with a large, magical creature of his own.

Another crash from behind had Jon finally release Theon, looking over his shoulder to see another of their ships explode into splinters on the port side. He growled in frustration then, knowing there was only one option left to him now.

“Davos, Jorah … stay close and hold onto me firmly. I’m not going to be able to stay upright once I go in.”

“Go in where?” Davos asked. His gaze then followed Jon’s as the massive creature briefly surged above the waves and he gasped. “Your Grace … I really don’t think ...”

“No choice ...” Jon replied as he ground his teeth and focused.

He was now grateful for the knowledge the dragons had given him; both the touch of the green during the Battle of the Dawn and his recent, regular communication with Drogon. This mind was as strong and immense as theirs and with a surprising amount of intelligence, if not quite on a par with Ghost or the dragons. But its intellect would not be the only reason that this would be a challenge. Jon would now have to over-Ride a fellow Warg and he had never once attempted such a feat. It was unlikely that his strange connection with Dany would be of much help now and, unless Euron had a lot less power than he did, the best Jon could realistically hope for was a stalemate, which would at least give their ships a chance to get away.

Jon skirted the great kraken’s mind, allowed himself to reach out all of his senses towards the beast, and then forced himself inside.

~o~0~o~

It was the strangest battle Jon had ever fought; one of pure wills and abstract consciousness. In this situation, a Rider’s mind would translate the instincts and emotions of both Familiar and Riders into unique images that the feeble human brain could deal with and, for Jon, this mental battle became a physical fight, with a sword in his hand and a faint, ghostly direwolf by his side, although Euron was likely viewing his side very differently.

The figure In front of him now was half-man half-kraken, turned giant by Jon’s imagination, swirling with dark shadow, green water and seaweed, his face full of gleeful rage as he snarled and snapped, whilst vicious weapons rapidly appeared and disappeared from his hand and tentacles.

“What is this?” the giant boomed, raising a large hooked blade above his head. “A little wolf adrift on the sea with no Familiar to help. You think you can over-Ride me, pup?”

Jon said nothing, simply lunging forwards with his sword before neatly spinning and skipping away as the large, unwieldy weapon crashed down by his side. Euron looked very briefly surprised but hid it well, laughing as he loomed closer, unnaturally large, though his immense size did not phase Jon for a moment. Most men he had fought in his life had been taller than him and most of those men were now dead. He had no fear of fighting giants.

As he danced away again, he fancied his opponent had shrunk a little; still far taller than him but now considerably more manageable. Back and forth the battle went and it wasn’t long before Jon began to fully understand the nature of this fight. With Euron’s attention on him, the kraken now had two Wargs Riding him and giving two contradictory instructions - fight and stand down - which meant it was trapped, unable to obey either order nor break free to return to the depths. That it could currently do no harm to his fleet suited Jon just fine and, the longer he held Euron within this virtual battle, the more time Yara’s ships had to pick up survivors and either head north or into land. In other words, the longer he remained here, the more lives he would save.

And his own life? That was less certain. If he won this, if he was actually able to throw Euron out of his own Familiar, then Jon could take control of the kraken and perhaps manage a cautious returned to his body, much as he did after visiting Dany. If he lost though, if Euron was able to expel him …?

Jon put that worrying thought to one side and continued fighting. Euron apparently couldn’t see Ghost but Jon knew his faint presence was here, a reassurance for him, even if he didn’t offer the same strength that the kraken was currently giving Euron.

‘Jon.’

He skipped away, glancing down at the faint image of his direwolf, trying to work out where the quiet message had come from. That couldn’t be Daenerys surely? Not from this distance. Not when she would currently be focusing on her own battle.

‘Jon … Bran … Look ...’ It was his brother, his message exceptionally faint from such a long way away and from communicating whilst Jon was over-Riding.

“Bran? What?” he asked.

The scene in front of him shifted then as the shadowy figure of Euron suddenly became pale ice, rising back up to his giant form, and Jon yelped at the sight of the Night King in front of him, his ice spear raised to deal the killer blow. But then he remembered that he held Longclaw and lifted it at the last moment, the clang setting his teeth on edge and sending him down to one knee.

He was losing. It was hopeless. He didn't stand a chance.

"They're coming," Bran said.

"Who are?"

"Look up."

"Dragons!" Someone shouted. "The dragons have returned."

“No,” Jon said, trying to pull his mind from the confusing images. “This isn’t the Battle for the Dawn and I’m not fighting the Night King. This is Euron, I’m on a ship in the south and that is only … one dragon?”

One, green dragon flying over Oldtown and breathing fire at the enemy’s ships.

“Get out of there, Jon,” Bran said. “Now!”

With a screaming battle cry, Jon plunged Longclaw into the image of Euron’s chest and hauled his mind out of the kraken’s and towards the damaged, listing ship which hopefully still housed his body.

And then the world around him exploded in fire and his mind retreated into blackness.

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Daenerys

Dany woke with a start, sitting up abruptly and gasping for air.  It was such a familiar sensation since she had been having these dragon-dreams and meeting up with Ghost, that she’d almost forgotten how it felt to wake up slowly and gently. ‘The last time you were in the Broken Tower with Jon,’ a traitorous voice reminded her.

She growled - a habit she’d picked up from the man in question - getting out of bed and pacing her pavilion, trying to get her mind to focus on what she’d learnt via Ghost last night; that Jon’s army had reached Torrhen’s Square at long last and were about to board the Ironborn ships. Her own troops were now heading down the King’s Road to meet up with the remainder of her army further south, whilst she regularly flew between Winterfell and the encampment until such flights became impractical.

Shortly after she was dressed, Tyrion arrived for their usual morning meeting, and Daenerys simply nodded as he told her of the Torrhen’s Square news he had received from the Rider-birds, feeling no need to explain that she already knew of it. Other news was then exchanged and plans tweaked to accommodate it, but Daenerys had to admit to being highly distracted throughout most of their discussion.

“Tyrion, before you go, I need to ask you something.”

Her Hand paused on the way out of her pavilion, a small frown as he returned to his seat in front of hers. “Your Grace?”

“It’s actually a Rider question, if you don’t mind?”

He smiled broadly. “Of course not.”

“It’s about Drogon’s complaints about ‘the wrong blood’ when we first arrived in Winterfell? I notice that you didn’t seem surprised at the time?”

“No, it’s a common enough comment, especially in the more intelligent Familiars.”

“I admit that I only have vague memories of my lessons at the Citadel as my education was … disrupted, as you know.”

“Disrupted? That’s one way of putting it.” He grinned. “That and the fact that you were perhaps not the most focused of students?”

She smiled back. “No, probably not. It’s something about geography though, isn’t it? About where the animal is born?”

“Not born, as such, more about the land they are connected to, where their ancestors are from.”

“Oh, I think that was what was confusing me then, seeing as Drogon was hatched in Westeros.”

“Yes, but it’s not even to do with continents, it’s specific regions,” Tyrion continued, happily relaxing into his old tutor role, “even though they do not necessarily correspond with the borders as we know them now. There are certain animals that are common throughout both continents whilst others are very specific to a region and, if our ancestors did not come from that place, then we will never be able to bond with those rarer creatures.”

“I see.” She nodded. “Yes, that makes more sense now.”

“So Drogon’s complaints on that first night would have been about how odd it felt to be in the north surrounded by animals that he has no connection to; a little like us trying to understand a foreign language that we’ve never heard before?”

Dany nodded. “And because of that I would never be able to Ride ... a direwolf, for example?”

Tyrion smirked. “Not of the animal variety, no.”

She simply rolled her eyes, choosing not to respond. “But doesn’t being a Warg may a difference? Couldn’t I over-Ride one of the local Familiars if I wanted?”

“Over-Ride, yes, I’m sure you could. You could force yourself into any lower Familiar’s head and push their Rider out, possibly even do so with another Warg given the right circumstances but form a proper bond? Ride them with their permission? No … for that you would need to have a blood bond with them and, in your case, that means the animal would need to come from the area around Valyria.

“But now there are so few people left with that blood in their veins? And so few dragons?”

“That is true,” Tyrion said sadly. “Fifty years ago we had, what, about six Riders and dragons but now …?”

She sighed. “But now it’s just me.”

He nodded. “I’m not sure why that happened. Perhaps it’s just a long delayed reaction to the Doom … Perhaps it has simply taken this long for that disaster to fully take hold.” She nodded gloomily in response. “Has that answered your question?”

“Mostly,” she replied. “It certainly helps me to prepare for the over-Riding I’m going to do once we reach King’s Landing.”

Although, truthfully, the explanation had actually left her with more questions than she’d started with, especially in regard to Jon Snow. However, her Hand’s teasing had made her even less willing to discuss the northern king right now and so she decided to simply hold onto this new knowledge and deal with it all later. Preferably when she wasn’t feeling quite so exhausted.

Once Tyrion had left, Dany headed to her bed to lie down, relieved that they were to stay here for the rest of the day whilst they waited for some extra northern troops to join them and allow their supply trains to catch up. Unfortunately, she had only just closed her eyes when she was again interrupted by Missandei.

“Your Grace … Daenerys?  I really do need to talk with you.”

“Later,” she mumbled. “I want to catch up with my sleep first.”

“You are always so tired nowadays.”

She opened her eyes to find her friend sitting next to her bedside with a concerned look on her face and sighed, deciding to tell her something of the truth. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You’re my best friend as well as my advisor so I know I can trust you.”

Missandei frowned. “With your life, Your Grace.”

Dany sat up slightly, wriggling into the pillows to make herself more comfortable before starting to explain. “As Riders we have all sorts of rules about the sharing of information as you know, but I’d say it’s even more the case with Wargs.”

Missandei frowned and nodded. “Go on.”

“I’ve been in touch with Jon almost every night via our Familiars,” she admitted. “They meet halfway and we … talk … sort of.”

“As in a full conversation? Not just a quick passing of a message?”

She nodded. “It’s not unheard of, of course, but it’s quite challenging to do and … I think that is what’s disturbing my sleep as most of us don’t need to dream-Ride once we’re able to do it properly.”

“So, why are you?” Missandei pushed.

She frowned. “It’s not deliberate.”

“Is it not?”

Dany flushed. “The main reason I haven’t talked about my relationship with Jon is because I don’t fully understand it myself.”

“What is there to understand?” her friend asked with a gentle smile. “The two of you have feelings for each other.” Dany glared at her. “You have not known each other long which means it will take some time to come to terms with but, Your Grace, I do not believe that this is why you are so tired.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you are also eating poorly, feeling nauseous and, I believe, have not bled once these last three moons.”

Dany gaped at her friend, suddenly realising what she was implying. “No, but my cycle has always been a bit off and … and the healers in Essos said ...”

Missandei rolled her eyes. “Your body probably just needed time to recover and all that witch nonsense could easily have been mistranslated.”

“I-I’m not sure I even remember what was said exactly.”

“You were told it by a healer in Dothraki and then relayed that to me a year later in Common and so I expect it is too late to get to the real truth of the matter. Add to the fact that you were probably ill and distraught at the time.” Missandei smiled gently, leaning forward to take one of her hands. “You must have had medical training at the Citadel, Daenerys? Most Riders need to learn the basics to understand their Familiars so … will you let me examine you? Shall we see if we can confirm this one way or another?”

~o~0~o~

“It … it can’t be true,” Dany said a little while later, placing a hand on her stomach, her mind racing with the implications, even as part of her attempted to deny it, despite all the evidence.

“I would say there is little doubt,” Missandei said, as she helped her friend dress.

“But the timing is awful. I’m about to fight in a war.”

“You will be ... close to four moons along by then?” She shrugged. “It should not be too much of a problem. You do not seem to be suffering from sickness as much as some do and so hopefully it will not slow you down. Shall I bring Tyrion in to discuss this with you?”

“What? No! Missandei, you can’t tell anyone about this.”

The girl chuckled quietly. “You think you can hide it? I am not the only Rider here with medical knowledge, after all.”

“No, but you’re the only one who is close to me. The others … I should be able to keep it from them, I would think.”

“Even someone as sharp as Lord Tyrion? And Lady Arya also rides with us and seems especially observant I have noticed.”

“We’ll work on my clothing to hide the changes a bit,” Dany said. “At least it’s still winter here and I can keep myself fairly well covered up.”

“And after King’s Landing?” Missandei pushed but the queen just shrugged. “And what about Jon Snow? When are you going to tell him?”

Daenerys glared at her. “Not until after the battles. It just seems wrong to relay such information via our Familiars and I really don’t want him distracted right now.”

“But ...”

“I need you to promise me, Missandei. I need to you swear that you’ll not tell anyone about this.”

“I know you are confused about your feelings for him, Daenerys, but Lord Tyrion was talking about making a marriage match between the two of you anyway and your excuse then was-”

“-That I can’t have children. Yes, I remember.”

“So, what is the problem? Most marriages in Westeros are bargained anyway. Most women here, as I understand it, have absolutely no choice in the matter. At least you two have … something.” Daenerys raised an eyebrow. “Assuming you were being truthful to me about him not raping you.”

“Of course I was,” she snapped. “He never would.”

Missandei smirked at her defensive reaction. “You will need time to fully accept this yourself first, I understand that. You will need to think through what this means to you and how you feel about carrying Jon’s child inside of you.”

Dany caught her breath, her friend’s choice of words making it suddenly hard for her to breathe. “Gods ...” she mumbled, looking down at her stomach as her hand gently brushed the front of her dress.

Then Missandei was pulling them into her own hands and Daenerys looked up to see her standing close, looking down at her, her eyes warm and dark, a soft smile on her lips. “I know you have feelings for him, Daenerys, and you really should tell him at least.”

“Not yet,” she repeated. “Not via our Familiars. I shall order you if need be.”

“It might come to that if you continue to be stubborn,” Missandei said with a deep sigh. “But I am happy enough to help keep your secret while it is all so new for you.”

~o~0~o~

Daenerys tried to explain to Drogon that she did not want him to meet with Ghost unless it was an emergency but her Familiar seemed confused by her request.

‘Meeting is not a choice.’

His reply made little sense to her because a dragon, being so intelligent, had far more of a say about being Ridden than most animals. In the end though it wasn’t really an issue as Jon being at sea meant he was less able to connect to Ghost from such a distance and, as he sailed around Cape Kraken, the visits stopped completely meaning Daenerys had to rely entirely on the Rider-birds for news of him.

Finally though, several weeks later, she felt Drogon push on her mind during her morning meal, which she now took on her own so that no-one would comment on her lack of appetite and occasional sickness.

‘Wolf approaches,’ Drogon informed her.

“Where?”

‘Mate has message.’

She glared. “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”

‘You carry his egg ... pup …?’

“Do not tell him that, Drogon and do not tell Ghost.”

‘Telling is not a choice.’

She frowned, still not understanding. “I do not want him to know.”

The dragon’s response almost felt like a sigh of frustration. ‘Wolf here now. Message urgent.’

With a sigh of her own she moved her mind to the west and sought out Ghost.

~o~0~o~

Jon’s message had done little to calm her; news of the storm on Pyke delaying the western attack and meaning her own would now also need to be rearranged. All the way south it had been one small delay after another for both groups; a day here and there slowly adding a week and then another and making the chances of her pregnancy being discovered far more likely.

But Daenerys would not allow Missandei to change her mind. She did not want to have to deal with any of this until after she’d defeated Cersei, and putting all thoughts of it to one side would help her acting in front of Tyrion and allow her to not think about it when Drogon met up with Ghost.

The weather had improved by the time they had reached the crossroads at the Trident and welcome news arrived that Jon’s fleet were finally on the move again which added a sense of urgency and relief to Dany’s campaign. As her army crossed the Trident things became suddenly more serious as the first of the southern birds appeared and Daenerys needed to remain on duty during the day in order to over-Ride them. It was an easy task at first, as the common Riders were a long way from their Familiars and would have little control over them, but she was under no illusions about how much harder it would become as they travelled south, and the prospect of having to do this and physically fight on Drogon was not something she was looking forward to.

And then, just as the timing between the two armies appeared to be working better, Jon’s news of a sudden strong wind in his fleet’s favour actually became a problem as the same mild weather here turned the snow to rain and the frozen ground to mud and created yet another delay for her army. It now seemed likely that the Oldtown battle would be starting early tomorrow morning whilst Dany was not likely to be in position until the afternoon at least.

“I’ll need to get up in the air and head slightly west,” she announced during that evening’s meeting. “It’s vital that I stop all birds heading from Oldtown to King’s Landing with news. We cannot have Cersei learning about what’s happening over there.”

“That assumes she doesn’t already know,” Tyrion said before giving her a reluctant nod. “But I suppose it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

So Daenerys flew that way first thing the following day, over-Riding a number of birds, even though she thought it unlikely news of Jon’s attack would have reached this far east yet. So far she had managed to keep her condition from everyone, save Missandei, although she wasn’t sure how long that would last. These fairly easy over-Rides were sapping her energy far more quickly than they should and she really did need to save herself for the main battle that would be happening here later today.

She turned her head sharply as a raven headed towards her, getting ready to attack, despite the bird having unexpectedly flown in from the north.

“Friend!” The raven squawked out loud, even as the word was repeated simultaneously in her head.

“Who?” she asked.

‘Bran.’

Dany blinked, stunned at how clear the message was from such a very long way away.

“Message?” She kept it simple, as if talking to a common Rider.

‘Jon … attack …. green ….’

She shook her head, not understanding. “Repeat?”

‘Send green west. Urgent.’

“I don’t understand,” she said but, fortunately, Drogon appeared to.

‘Brother goes now.’

“Rheagal’s flying to Oldtown? Why? How’s that going to work?” She had no direct control of the smaller dragon who only tended to follow Drogon’s command. “What’s happening with Jon?” she asked but received no reply from either the raven or her dragon. “Tell me!”

‘Too far,’ Drogon replied. ‘Brother will help.’

“I need to get back to the army,” she decided.

‘Soon. More birds come.’

Daenerys bit down a growl and focused on the little black specks now approaching from the west. These ones may well have news of the western attack, but she didn’t have the time or the focus to get inside them and find out, all she could do was knock their Riders out of their heads and disable them. She tried hard to concentrate on the task at hand and not dwell on what could possibly have happened to Jon that would make Bran send such an odd and apparently urgent message.

“I’m not worried about him. I can’t be. I won’t be,” she mumbled as she threw another attack at yet another crow.

~o~0~o~

As the two vast armies eyed each other across the field later that day, Daenerys allowed her anger and frustration over Jon to fuel her as she flew Drogon towards the enemy lines at speed, splitting Cersei’s army in two with a single line of flame. Then she drilled a second behind it, hitting nothing of significance but rather creating a wall of charred ground, effectively cutting the enemy off from King’s Landing. Finally she flew over the city itself, Drogon neatly spinning away from the tiny arrows and larger bolts as his Rider looked for a target to hit which would cause the most damage with the least number of casualties.

This was more like it. Flying up here, fighting this battle and feeling stronger than she had in weeks. No sickness, no tiredness and even her fear for Jon had faded slightly. Now all she felt was exhilaration and the realisation that this was going to be so much easier than she had originally anticipated.

When Dany felt the first flutter against her mind she thought little of it. A strong Rider was pushing at Drogon but she wasn’t concerned. Why would she be? Not even Jon had been able to get past her defences, after all. A slightly firmer one then - more like the feeling of being with her lover - but she pushed back hard, her feeling of satisfaction at her easy success marred by a small, nagging doubt. If that had felt a bit like Jon’s mind then … Could there be another Warg here that they didn’t know about?

“We need to land, Drogon,” she said. “Just in case.”

Her Familiar grumbled but agreed to the request. If there was any chance at all that he could be over-Ridden then he needed to keep his Rider safe, and she would be hurt by a fall far more than he would. They flew low, skirting along the coast, heading north-east, with Dany wanting to get further away from the capital and a possible attack, but they had only just cleared their own army when she felt a new, stronger push on her mind.

“Land now!” she shouted at her Familiar. “Tell Rhaegal.”

Drogon roared loudly, objecting to having another human in his head and then, just as Dany geared up to push the intruder out, the first Rider attacked too.

“She has two Wargs!” she cried in despair. “How does she have two?”

Drogon lost control then, the sensation of having three humans trying to Ride his mind at the same time far too much for him to deal with. Fortunately he was now close to the ground, although the landing was a lot rougher than Dany would have liked, especially given her current condition. She slid off the dragon and cradled her stomach protectively as she reached the floor; Drogon curled up around her, protecting his Rider from any physical outside attack whilst she worked to defend him from the inside.

Perhaps Jon had been right, perhaps they should have practised this at Winterfell, although could she have really allowed herself to have been opened up to him in this way? Would Drogon have allowed it? Fighting one Warg probably wouldn’t be a problem, even if it was likely to have meant a stalemate for a while, but could she fight two? Would her condition make it harder?

Now reassured that she and the baby were physically safe, Dany allowed herself to relax and focus entirely on the internal battle.

~o~0~o~

A Warg battle like this was viewed differently by each Rider depending on the way they learnt and the way their own mind worked, and Dany’s had always been very abstract; the emotions and feelings translated as colours or elements, probably due to the exceptionally young age she had developed the skill.

In her mind she and Drogon were fire made manifest; his large dark bonfire curling around her smaller pale flame and there, right in the centre, an even smaller flicker, a tiny spark. Dany gasped at the first real image she would see of her child, before pushing the unhelpful emotion to one side to turn her attention back to the threat; two rivers snaking towards the flames, small now but growing faster and more furious, threatening to dampen their fire and snuff it out. She focused on the smaller stream and a burst of flame flew in that direction causing the water to sizzle and pause its advance, but it wasn’t long before it resumed its journey, trickling around her, joining forces with the larger river and slowly encircling their fire.

Daenerys’ whole world had now condensed down to just fire and water and such basic elements have no concept of time. She had no idea how long had passed outside or how her army were faring now that Drogon had been grounded, all she could focus on was the water as it lapped and hissed against her, the waves as they started to swell and the sudden, terrifying realisation that she was ultimately going to lose this battle - that even a Warg of her very great power could not possibly win against two others. At some point soon she would be thrown out of her Familiar’s head and, even though she would probably survive that trauma, Drogon would not stop fighting and, with his confusion, would lose all logic and control, lashing out at anyone and everyone. And what of her baby? This small spark of life growing inside her? There had been few enough Wargs in the world in recent years and Daenerys could not recall any stories about what happened to pregnant ones if over-Ridden. After such a violent attack like this she would be out cold, perhaps for days, and then have to endure sickness which would likely make her pregnancy illness seem mild in comparison. She pushed down the fear, trying not to think negatively, trying to keep her focus on the rapidly growing waves crashing against their fire, but she was now so very tired and so very scared.

“Jon, I’m sorry … I should have told you. There’s so much I should have said to you and now ...” She shivered, feeling strangely cold despite their flames still burning fiercely and there was something else here now … someone else. She sobbed. “Not another one.”

‘No. No more,’ her dragon complained.

“I will protect you,” she promised him. “We shall protect each other.”

For a horrible moment Drogon appeared to go silent, his flame fading away to the point that Dany could no longer sense him, and she began to cry, fearful of what that might mean.

‘I am here.’ Her Familiar’s presence snapped back into her mind, causing her to sob in relief. ‘Brother has returned.’

“Brother?” Daenerys asked, confused, her teeth starting to chatter. “Why is it so cold?”

She dared to look up at the waves then, terrified at how tall they had grown, reaching up as high as the Wall and curling over her, threatening to come crashing down and extinguish their fire completely but then, just as she had given up all hope, just as she could see no way of surviving, the towering water stilled as if time itself had stopped. She shivered even more, blinking through the faint, dark flames to focus.

The waves had frozen - turned to ice - and then there was a shout of pure fury as they shattered into a thousand tiny pieces to float away like snow and Daenerys sobbed in relief, wrapping herself up in Drogon’s fire and enveloping the tiny little spark within her.

“Dany?”

“I should have told you,” she replied to the quiet, concerned voice. “I should have said how much I miss you.”

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Jon

He was being shaken. His name called. Jon blinked open his eyes to find himself lying below deck with Jorah and Davos by his side, urging him to sit up. Next to him Edd still lay unconscious.

“Is he … is he all right?” Jon asked, fighting back the now familiar feeling of nausea as he hauled himself up into a sitting position.

“As far as we can tell,” Jorah said. “You’ve recovered faster than any of the other Riders who collapsed though.”

“I managed to get out in time.” He paused, trying to get his mind back into the real world. “What happened?”

“A dragon arrived,” Davos stated.

“Daenerys?” Jon shook his head the moment he said it, knowing that that was impossible.

“No, the smaller one,” Jorah said. “I’ve no idea why he would come on his own. He only ever works through her Familiar.”

Jon nodded, understanding the knight’s confusion. None of the lesser wolves in his pack would act without Ghost close by either. It didn’t exactly make any sense. “But what actually happened?” he pushed.

“The dragon ignored the kraken completely and focused on a single ship,” Jorah said. “The lead one.”

“The one with Euron on I assume. He may not be a bonded animal but I still don’t think he would be capable of attacking a Familiar.”

“Probably not. Anyway, the moment he fired, you collapsed and we feared the worst but … obviously you got out?”

“I got sent a warning.” Jon frowned. “I need to get up on deck and see what’s happening.”

Two strong arms hauled him to his feet and then caught him when he staggered, retching slightly. “Are you sure you’re strong enough?” Davos asked.

“Have to be ...” he mumbled.

Their ship was listing slightly, limping its way northwards towards the shore which didn’t make keeping to his feet any easier. The moment he got on deck, Yara came running over to him.

“Are you all right?” Jon nodded weakly. “You look like shit. We couldn’t get directly to shore because of the rocks but, fortunately, that dragon attack gave us the extra time we needed to escape and we’re now skirting slightly north to avoid them. Is the kraken dead?”

“Probably not, but I doubt Euron got out of his head as quickly as I was able to. Without his control the creature will be running off to lick his wounds …” He shook his head, “… or whatever sea creatures do when they’re over-Ridden.” He looked up at the sky. “Where’s the dragon?”

“I assumed it would have returned to the queen?” Jorah said.

“No, over there,” Davos said, pointing. “On shore.”

“Why is he still here?” Jon frowned, focusing on the creature briefly but was unable to sense him from his current position. He then tried to contact Ghost but his Familiar was still a long way away and Jon was in no fit state to push his mind out that far.

“We’ll be there sooner than you think,” Theon said, sensing his impatience. “The current will pull us in quickly now we’re this close to Bandallon, you’ll see.”

Jon nodded, trying to get his head together. “Tell me everything then. How many ships did we lose? What happened during the battle? I need to catch up before we reach the shore and then I’ll see what I’m able to do about getting the news back to Daenerys.”

~o~0~o~

The battle for Oldtown had been lost, but their casualties were relatively small and most of Jon’s army and the Greyjoy fleet would survive to fight another day. The journey back to shore gave the young king a chance to issue commands for their retreat and, fortunately, the dragon had evened the odds a little, causing a huge amount of damage to Euron’s fleet and preventing the enemy from pursuing them. In the end, the physical fight had ended up as much of a stalemate as Jon’s strange Warg battle had.

He felt perfectly recovered by the time he got to land, running towards the dragon whilst simultaneously pushing his mind out to Ghost, quickly establishing a faint contact with the direwolf whilst trying to work out what was going on.

‘Big dragon fights,’ his Familiar relayed.

Jon looked up at the sky, trying to judge the time. Apparently the King’s Landing fight was still happening.

‘Dragon fight started after Wolf fight.’

“Huh,” Jon grumbled as he translated that information. “So much for our perfect timing. Can you sense anything from this smaller dragon?”

‘Too far.’

He had assumed as much, slowing his pace as he got closer and reaching a hand toward the beast as he opened up his mind.

“Do you remember me?” he asked and then frowned, recalling something from his connection with Daenerys. “Rhaegal, isn’t it?” Knowing his name should help him to form a bond with the beast.

The dragon turned to regard him, his head lowering, but Jon could sense no direct communication from him as he had during the Battle for the Dawn. Slowly, nervously, he reached out his mind, just skirting the edge of the green’s, testing the possibility that he might be allowed to Ride him, but Rhaegal’s reaction was instant and violent, turning to roar at Jon who jumped back, hands held up in apology.

“I understand. I was just checking and wondering why you’re still here.”

The dragon moved again, this time to one side to lower a wing and Jon initially thought that the creature had been injured in the fight and was asking for assistance. It took him a moment longer to understand what the beast was doing and then it was Jon’s turn for the strong reaction, a real fear overcoming him. The dragon wouldn’t let him Ride his mind but he apparently did want him to get on his back. To fly such a creature when he had no real control of him was highly dangerous.

“I need something from you, Rhaegal,” he said, pushing his thoughts out tentatively again. “Why?”

‘Help dragons. Help dragon Rider.’

“Is Daenerys in trouble, Ghost?” he asked his Familiar. “Is Drogon?”

‘Yes.’

That was all he needed to hear. Without any further hesitation, Jon started to climb onto Rhaegal, now thinking of nothing but Dany and helping her.

~o~0~o~

The journey east was suitably terrifying, and Jon’s stomach, which had only just settled after his Warg battle, began to churn again as he decided that sailing on the water was far preferable to flying in the air. He instantly gained a new respect for Daenerys then, especially considering she first started to fly like this as a child, as it certainly took a lot of nerve to be this high above the ground. The route to King’s Landing was obvious from up here though, Rhaegal following the river Mander across the Reach all the way to Tumbletown and from there a relatively short hop over to Blackwater Bay. Once they reached the capital, the dragon flew directly over the water, keeping the castle to his left and skirting around it to stay clear of the battle, although Jon could see little more than faint dots of troops milling around in that direction. Then Rhaegal banked and Jon yelped, grabbing the spikes tightly as he tried to put his fear to one side and focus on the fact that they were now, thankfully, heading in to land.

And there, far below on an open field just north-east of the battle site, he could see the large, dark form of Drogon, curled up tightly like a sleeping cat.

“Is he all right?” Jon asked, but he could get no response from Rhaegal or Ghost and knew they would have to get a lot closer before he could make any sense of what was happening down there.

He thought to dismount once they had landed but the green made no attempt to offer him a wing, apparently deciding he’d be safer where he was, and, seeing as Jon had no idea what was happening with the physical battle here or whether there would be enemies approaching, that was probably sensible - the thought confirmed when he was finally able to reach out his mind and understand what was going on.

How ironic to find Daenerys and Drogon locked in a very similar battle to the one he had fought with Euron and his kraken.

As Jon prepared to enter Drogon’s mind to help out, the large dragon was suddenly roused from his stalemate, turning towards him with a roar of anguish. Jon winced, pulling back for a moment, vaguely aware of a brief communication between the two dragons before the largest backed down slightly. Guessing something of what was happening Jon pushed his own thoughts back towards Drogon.

“Please let me in. You know me. You know I am here to help you and your Rider.”

‘Too many.’

“I understand but, if you let me in, I promise I’ll get rid of them for you and then I will leave too. Trust me.”

There was a long pause before the dragon replied. ‘Trust Rider’s mate. Help dragon family.’

“Yes,” Jon confirmed, taking a deep breath and pushing his mind fully inside of Drogon’s.

~o~0~o~

As usual he appeared fully equipped for battle; Longclaw in his hand and with Ghost, even fainter than before, by his side. The floor beneath him growled and shifted; Drogon, despite giving his permission, not at all happy about now having four people Riding him. Four. She was having to fight two Wargs. No wonder she was struggling.

Jon gasped when he saw the image of Daenerys his mind had conjured. A beautiful goddess made of fire; white-hot hair rippling above her head and bright flames dancing around and through her, whilst red ribbons of fire burst from her fingertips. Two opponents circled her - unnaturally large and growing rapidly - and Jon viewed them in the same way as he had Euron, half the elderly men they were and half the animals they Rode; a horse jumping the flames as his Rider fired a crossbow at Dany, and a dog, snapping and nipping at the sparks as his master shot his longbow.

“Leave her alone!” Jon snarled. He was both man and wolf with the full support of the dragon they were attacking and the anger he felt now was far greater than when he’d been fighting Euron. How dare they attack her! How dare they!

They were larger than him, but old and slow, their only advantage being the fact that they were working together. Jon danced around them, trying to work out which one was weaker - the dog, he decided - and he met the snarling creature with a growl of his own. He was a direwolf, his opponent a mere hound and the old man knew it too, soon shrinking and fearful and then … gone.

Jon turned with a roar, his blood up, barely contained fury turned fur and flesh as he approached the horse. A horse! The old man’s face paled as he saw his opponent stalk closer and then, after a single swing of Longclaw he too was gone, thrown out of Drogon’s head with very little effort required from Jon.

He turned again, sword up towards Dany, who now appeared as a small, silver haired child, hands held up towards him, half ready to attack, half ready to hug.

“Jon,” she whimpered. “I should have told you. I should have said how much I miss you.” And then she too was gone, pulled out with a sharp cry, just a moment before Drogon roared and forced Jon out after her.

~o~0~o~

He gasped, breathing heavily, clinging to Rheagal’s scales as white specks danced before his eyes and his stomach rolled.

“Please let me down now,” he begged and the green obliged, quickly lowering one shoulder and wing to the ground. As Jon had no strength left to climb he simply allowed himself to slide, hoping the slope down to the grass was as gradual as it appeared. He landed in a heap, throwing up violently, before staggering to his feet and heading towards Drogon who, now confused and angry, was threatening a group of people trying to assist their queen, curled up somewhere beneath his massive body.

“Jon?”
“Your Grace?”

He heard vaguely familiar voices, but his vision was still blurred, his ears were buzzing and it took a few moments before he was able to make sense of any of it.

“What happened?” someone else demanded. “What’s wrong with Daenerys?”

He knew that voice. “Tryion?”

“Her dragon won’t let us get close to help her, Jon. What happened?”

“She was attacked by two Wargs. I was attacked by one and …”

He blinked, trying to focus on Drogon whose great neck suddenly swung towards him whilst, behind him, Tyrion cursed loudly. Jon stood his ground - best he could when it appeared to still be moving - and pushed his mind towards the beast, attempting to still him.

“You know me,” he said, repeating his words from earlier. “You trust me. Please let me help her.”

With a loud, confused roar of anguish, Drogon turned away and raised his wings, quickly flying away with Rhaegal close on his tail and Jon staggered over to Daenerys, curled up tightly on the ground with her knees hugged into her chest, falling down on his knees next to her.

“Dany!” Jon cried loudly, not caring who saw or heard his emotional reaction to the sight. “I’m sorry, I must have pushed too hard. Are you all right? Please be all right.”

She remained still and unmoving, so he slid one hand into the little ball she’d made of her body, searching for her neck, desperate to find a pulse. He breathed out, almost crying in relief as he felt it strong and secure under his finger tips. With the over-protective dragons gone, others were now moving forward and starting to crowd around them.

“We need to get her safe, Your Grace.” He recognised Missandei’s voice. “There is a wagon here and we can take her to the camp a little further north?”

Jon nodded and rose, adjusting his feet and wrapping his arms around her, ready to lift.

“You are too weak, Your Grace. Let Tormund carry her.”

“No!” Jon snapped. “I’ve got her.”

She was such a light little thing and Jon normally had no trouble lifting her ... lifting her onto the bed, lifting her onto his desk, holding her up against the wall whilst he ... He was struggling today though. Missandei was probably right.  He’d just fought two Warg battles, had passed out after the first and flown a dragon in-between but, after all of that, Jon just couldn’t bear to be parted from her again, not even for a short while. Somehow he managed to get the queen into the wagon and shortly afterwards was carrying her to her pavilion, continuing to ignore all offers of assistance.

“Your Grace,” Missandei now sounded rather more demanding than concerned. “I need you to wait outside. I really must insist.”

Jon turned to glare at the girl, hugging the queen even closer to his chest and the young woman swallowed hard at the sight of him even though, to her credit, she refused to back down.

“I know you are worried about her,” she continued cautiously, “but … I promised her that-” This time when Jon glared at her she did relent, taking a step backwards.

“I shall tell her how determined you were to follow her orders, Missandei and will happily take all the blame,” he declared. “You know she’ll believe you over me anyway.”

“But ...”

“Leave us,” he growled and, after only a very brief pause, the girl nodded her head in a bow and hastily retreated backwards out of the pavilion.

“Lord Tyrion and I will be close by if you need us.”

~o~0~o~

Jon lowered Daenerys onto the surprisingly large bed within the pavilion before collapsing to his knees by the side of it, exhausted from everything he’d been through, emotionally and physically. His fingers fumbled at her collar to find her pulse again and he breathed out in relief on finding it still strong and steady, briefly lying his head down next to hers and fighting to calm his own racing heart. He sent a quick message out west to Ghost, just to reconnect, before pulling his focus back to Dany and tracing the curves of her face, his heart rate picking up again as he reacquainted himself with her beauty.

He really had missed her so much and he then recalled that she had said much the same to him whilst they had both been Riding Drogon. He sighed heavily, looking longingly at the bed and debating lying down next to her but he instead forced himself to kneel up, continuing to gaze at her as he stroked her face then her shoulder, his hand gently wandering lower. He frowned then, tracing the curves of her breasts, for once not distracted by lustful thoughts but curious about what he could see as he tried to get his exhausted brain to make sense of it.

Confused, Jon began to untie the riding coat she was wearing, slowly, gently undoing the catches at her shoulder and peeling the top layer back, before studying the next set of ties and releasing those too. He opened the whole coat to reveal a lighter dress underneath and the sight that greeted him then quickly banished the last of the fog.

“Dany … what?”

When he’d brought her here Jon had debated the need to undress her, thinking he could simply lift the furs around her and let her rest but now he had another reason to continue the task, relieving her of the coat and then undoing the thinner dress, the ties on the front of the garment making it possible without having to move her. He pulled this garment open too, leaving her in just a thin shift, and swore quietly as he stared at a very different shaped body to the one he’d been dreaming about these last few months. Her breasts were considerably larger and the swell of her stomach, on a frame which was still slight in most other ways, made her condition instantly obvious to him.

He placed his hand slowly, nervously over her belly button, his heart beating whilst his mind raced at the implications of what he was seeing, and it was only Daenerys slight moan that had Jon snap his hand away, suddenly noticing her pebbled skin as she shuddered from the cold.

“Idiot,” he reprimanded himself, quickly lifting and rolling her clothes out from under her before covering her up with one thin cover and a thick fur throw, trying to put what he had just discovered out of his mind and simply ensure that the queen was safe, warm and well looked after, after everything she’d been through. Then he checked her pulse once more, kissed her gently on the forehead and moved to fetch a chair, sitting by her side as he took hold of her hand and waited for her to come around fully. It wouldn’t be long now, he guessed.

Soon afterwards her eyes started to flicker, the small hand held in his squeezing, and Jon could now feel her waking up as well as see it. Then, suddenly, the grasp on his hand became firmer and she breathed a deep sigh.

“Jon?” she asked, her eyes still closed but obviously sensing his presence too.

“I’m here, Dany.”

She turned to him then her eyes opening, frowning as she looked around. “Where …?”

“What do you remember?” he asked.

“Water … Ice ...” She shook her head, her expression suddenly concerned. “Wargs! Cersei has Wargs too.”

“Aye, three at least.”

“Three?”

“I also had to battle one.”

Daenerys blinked, focusing on him properly. “Are you all right? You look ... pale.”

“I’m mostly worried about you.”

“I ...” She frowned. “I was losing.”

“You sent Rheagal to me,” Jon said. “So he and I came back to help you.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure I sent him. He’s never let me Ride him directly he … he may have gone because Drogon told him to or ... Bran?”

Jon frowned. “Bran?”

I think … your brother contacted me before ...” She looked around suddenly worried. “How long since the battle started? How did you get here? What happened?”

“Rhaegal came to my rescue,” Jon started to explain. “He didn’t let me Ride his mind but he did allow me on his back. So then we flew here and I helped to push your Wargs out.”

“I was losing and weak and ...” Dany’s eyes widened suddenly, as another memory returned and Jon could even sense her fear as she snatched her hand away from him, the other sliding down under the covers as she obviously remembered her condition. “W-where’s Missandei?” she asked nervously, turning her gaze towards the pavilion entrance. “Who undressed me?”

“She was very insistent that I not stay,” Jon said pointedly. “I had to order her out in the end.”

“I …” She looked at him fearfully as if expecting him to be cross but he just raised his eyebrows, his gaze never once leaving hers as he took her hand back into his.

“I ordered her out and then undressed you and put you to bed myself.”

She paled as she confirmed from his expression that he definitely knew. “I’m sorry, Jon. I would have told you but …” She tried to pull her hand away but he held it firmly.

“Relax, Dany, I understand. You probably didn’t even know when we last saw each other.”

She shook her head. “And even when I suspected I continued to deny it for quite some time. I was so convinced that it couldn’t be possible and ...” She swallowed hard. “... and I didn’t want to tell you via our Familiars. That didn’t seem right somehow.”

Jon moved to sit on the edge of the bed, still holding her hand as he leant down to kiss her forehead. “You really shouldn’t have been fighting like this.”

She pulled away slightly, glaring at him. “One of the reasons I didn’t tell anyone.”

“What? What do you mean? No-one knows?”

“Only Missandei,” she confirmed. “I made her swear to keep it to herself.”

“You idiot,” he said gently, kissing her again. She was glaring at him when he pulled away but that just made him smile and her eyes quickly softened too, relaxing as she finally accepted that he wasn’t angry with her. He shook his head then, gently leaning back down to kiss her lips and the contact made him shudder, realising just how much he’d missed her taste. He lingered like this for a while, feeling turned on by the kiss but also fighting his own exhaustion before he finally, reluctantly pulled away. “Gods, Dany. What happens now?”

She pulled the furs back down then, lifting the hand that was still holding his and lowering it to her tummy. “We start making plans to welcome our baby into the world, Jon.”

He gasped, his gaze moving from their hands on her stomach back up to her eyes. “I … I still can’t quite ...”

“I know. I’m sorry. It took me ages to come to terms with it and you’ve only just found out.”

“Your Graces?” Missandei’s soft voice had Jon jumping back onto his seat and Daenerys automatically pulling the furs back over her. The young advisor had seen the move though and smiled softly. “Are you both well?”

“Exhausted but no injury to … any of us,” Dany replied.

Missandei glanced at Jon then, her shy smile acknowledging the fact that he now knew too. “I am sorry to disturb you, but Lord Tyrion is insisting he talks with you both.”

“Of course he is,” Dany said, sitting up in bed and checking the furs again. “If he could just give us a moment I’ll come out and-”

“-Please don’t trouble yourself,” the dwarf said, striding in. “This really is important but so is your health. I need to talk to both of you anyway and Missandei can stay too, of course.”

Jon glowered a bit, even though he accepted that Tyrion needed to be here and, anyway, despite how tired her felt, he really did want to know all the latest news. He attempted to pull his hand away from Daenerys for proprieties sake but she was having none of it, gripping it firmly and pulling it back towards her whilst Missandei brought a couple of chairs over to the opposite side of the bed for her and the queen’s Hand.

Tyrion’s gaze took in the scene, the two pale monarchs in front of him with their hands closely entwined and his lips twitched.

“Unfortunately we were not able to capture King’s Landing,” he began. “Although it’s not all bad news. Cersei’s army was in a sorry state just before your dragon was over-Ridden and so they are in no position to chase after us. Which means both sides have effectively retreated, even though our army is in far better shape than hers. We could mount another attack in a day or two but I wouldn’t recommend it.” He turned to Jon. “A Rider-bird just arrived from Oldtown but the message is a bit garbled. What can you tell us of your battle?”

“It was the opposite of what happened here really,” he said. “We had a kraken Familiar attack our fleet and I attempted to over-Ride it, giving everyone a chance to retreat. I’m not sure if we would have escaped that though if it hadn’t been for the smaller dragon appearing and burning some of Euron’s ships.” Jon frowned. “Daenerys and I still aren’t entirely sure how or why the green came to my rescue but, once I was back on land, I got the sense that I was needed here and flew over as quickly as possible.”

“Surely you weren’t able to connect to him?” Tryion asked with a confused glance thrown at Daenerys.

“No, he wouldn’t let me,” Jon said. “I just ...” He shook his head. “The queen and I probably need to talk about this more once we’ve rested. I only know that I arrived here to find her fighting two further Wargs and so I hopped in and helped her out.” He felt her hand squeeze his and looked down, smiling at her gently.

“Your dragon has flown off – they both have,” Tyrion said to Daenerys, “but experience says they’ll be back once they’ve calmed down a bit. And we’re starting to prepare for our retreat along the coast with the intention to head back to Dragonstone?”

The queen nodded. “Yes, that’s good. Do we need to move now?”

“No, it’s getting late but first thing in the morning, yes. I’m sure we’ll get more news from Oldtown by then too. Anything else you can remember about how you left things there?” he asked Jon.

“Much the same as here, I think. Both sides heading back home to lick their wounds.” He sighed. “Retreats all around, it seems, but I left before I was able to get any true sense of our casualties.”

“Well, the morning will bring new birds, as I said, and I can see how tired you both are.” Tyrion paused, his eyes sparkling slightly as he looked at Jon. “We have a pavilion set up for you if you wish?”

“Well, I ...” He looked over at Daenerys.

“Jon is staying here tonight,” she said firmly.

“As you say.” Tyrion’s eyes dropped down to their hands, still held firmly. “I’m guessing there will be no need to break up any fights between you two now then? Have you resolved this … issue between the pair of you?”

Jon raised an eyebrow and Dany smirked slightly. “We’re perhaps heading in the right direction?” she replied.

“Good to know. I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Tyrion,” she called out. “Before you go, there’s something else I need to tell you.”

Jon stared at her wide-eyed as she turned to look first at Missandei and then at him. Understanding her silent request he nodded in reply.

“What is it, Your Grace?”

“I have an apology to make to you. Something I should have told you weeks ago.”

She slid her legs towards Jon - lifting their joined hand high - and he got the message, standing on wobbly legs to attempt to assist her as she pulled the furs back and stood up, the curves of her breast and stomach now even more pronounced through her thin shift than when she had been lying down.

Tyrion gaped, staring at his queen in shock. “How did you keep that …? What did …?” He looked back at Jon who shrugged.

“I only found out when I carried her in here.”

The dwarf blinked a couple more times before shaking his head, smiling slightly. “Congratulations, Daenerys. I shall leave Jon to tell you off about keeping that news to yourself then, but I’m assuming now that the two of you will be following our advice about a marriage alliance?”

“I ...” Jon gaped at Dany who just shrugged in reply. “Of course … I just hadn’t … it’s all been a bit of a shock.”

“I understand,” Tryion said, “but I wouldn’t recommend putting it off for much longer. Something else for the two of you to discuss tonight, perhaps?” He started to leave again but paused, turning back and looking critically at the pair. “Although do try and get some sleep too. The pair of you honestly look paler than Jon’s direwolf."

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Daenerys

Once Tyrion had left the queen’s pavilion, Missandei brought over a tray of food for the pair, fussing over them like a mother hen, grumbling about royal Wargs and their insane habit of pushing themselves too hard.

Dany was certainly very hungry, although she was now distracted by Jon who looked ready to fall asleep on the chair next to her bed. So, just as soon as they’d both eaten their fill, she placed the tray on the nearby table and lifted the furs, patting the bed firmly.

“Come and lie down before you fall down,” she insisted.

“I … I could just ...” Jon glanced around the pavilion as if looking for somewhere else he could sleep.

She arched an eyebrow. “Do I have to order you?”

“You can’t order me,” he complained, kicking off his boots and crawling onto the bed, despite his apparent reluctance. “We’re of equal rank.”

“In your opinion,” she countered as she snuggled up next to him. “It’s an old argument, of course, but now we're really going to have to start trying to get along.”

He gave a small laugh, pulling her closer. “No idea how that’s going to work.”

“Me neither, but it might make a nice change.” Despite her tiredness, she was enjoying being back in the furs with him and hoped they could talk a little before one of them fell asleep. “I think this is only the second time we’ve been in an actual bed together?”

“What?” He huffed. “Aye, I suppose those furs in the tower didn’t really count. Just that first time in my room.”

“Because the second time was on your desk, I seem to remember.” She paused. “I wonder when little Spark got made.”

“What?”

She laughed. “I view my battles in a very abstract way, you see. Drogon and I were fire and then I saw this even smaller flame flickering inside of me as I was fighting.” She sighed. “Do you think that was why we were so driven at the start, Jon?”

“Perhaps. When our Familiars started referring to us as the other’s mate it did cross my mind.”

“Yes, but after what I was told by the healers in Essos …?”

“I understand.” There was a long pause. “Tyrion’s right about us getting married though. Growing up a bastard is no fun in Westeros and that was one of the reasons I was so cross with myself initially – until you told me you couldn’t get pregnant. I’d decided long ago that I would forgo having children altogether if that were to be their fate.”

“And would you want a northern wedding?” she asked. She felt warm, comfortable and very, very sleepy but these things needed talking about. If they could both stay awake.

“Ideally but, if we’re going to go to Dragonstone first, it could be a while before we get up there and I do think we should marry before the babe is born.”

“Yes, so we should find a Sept as soon as possible.” She groaned, trying to get her sleepy mind to remember her geography. “Rosby? I think that’s the nearest settlement?”

“Aye. Tyrion will know how to go about that, I expect. I’ll talk to him first thing tomorrow.” Jon pulled her closer, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head and Dany felt her eyelids grow heavy as she inhaled his scent and felt his breathing slow. “This is nice,” he mumbled after a long pause, his voice deep and sleepy. “Warm … “ An even longer gap and she thought at first he had fallen asleep. “Home.”

~o~0~o~

She slept deeply for a while before waking in total darkness, sighing as warmth enveloped her from both the furs and Jon’s body pressed firmly against her back. She took hold of the hand lying on her hip and pulled it across her abdomen, causing him to stir slightly and then move even closer, his warm lips pressing against her ear.

“Dany ...” he mumbled.

She ran her fingers along his arm and he kissed her shoulder in response, making her shudder.

“Are you feeling all right after yesterday?” she asked.

“Aye.” He gave a contented sigh before moving his hand slightly to stroke across her stomach. “I was thinking about what you said before about us being driven in the early stages in order to make ... little Spark?” He chucked, enjoying the nickname.

“Yes?”

“I thought perhaps you were right but then … I was so tired.”

“Yes? What do you mean?”

In reply he wriggled up against her back so she could feel just how turned on he was. “And I’m still so exhausted but, Gods I want you so much too.”

She giggled. “It’s been a long time for both of us.”

“What about you?” he asked.

She lifted his hand from her stomach and trailed it to where her shift had ridden up and exposed a bare thigh. “Why don’t you find out for yourself.”

His hand slid slowly upwards and Dany rolled onto her back and opened her legs a little so he could discover just how ready for him she was, both of them groaning as he slid slowly one finger into her.

“At the very least I want you naked,” she gasped

“You too,” he agreed and the disappointment of having him briefly pull away was replaced by the thrilling anticipation of having his skin against hers once again. It was easier for her, of course - just her shift which she very quickly discarded - and, although she could still see nothing in the black of this moonless night, the eventual return of Jon’s naked body against hers was enough to have her shuddering with desire. They stayed in this position for a while - Jon pressing his hips up against her and kissing her shoulder, whilst his hand teased between her legs - but soon the temptation became far too great and Daenerys turned in his arms, her lips searching for his, whilst they both continued to kiss sleepily and gently pleasure each other.

“Is this enough?” he asked.

“No,” she gasped. “I need you inside me, Jon.”

“I wasn’t sure ...” His hand again stroked her stomach.

“Might not have been that keen a couple of months ago when I was feeling so queasy but, now …? Now I really want you.” She felt him breathe in to speak again. “And before you say it, no, it won’t do the baby any harm, especially if we focus on certain … positions.”

“And tonight?” he asked, kissing her gently.

Instead of replying she sat up, her desire now over-riding the exhaustion, quickly straddling him and rubbing up against him a few times. Jon hands slid up from her hips across her stomach and from there to her breasts and she heard him gasp in the darkness.

“I thought they looked larger earlier but … Seven Hells.”

He squeezed and she winced. “Gently, please.”

“Hmm … sorry.”

“That’s fine, I’m about to get my own back on you.” And she took him firmly in her hand, pulled herself high up on her knees and then dropped down hard.

“Fuck, Dany.”

“That’s the general idea,” she replied, laughing, although she started to ride him more gently after that, her body still trying to decide if it needed this more than it needed sleep.

Even as her eyes got used to the darkness, Jon appeared as little more than a shadow below her, although she had her other senses to rely on; the touch of his hands as they stroked and squeezed her hips and the feel of his hard length inside her. The sound of his hitched breathing and soft moans of her name, the scent of him when he sat up to kiss her, the delicious taste of him on her tongue and one last sense - her Rider sense - Jon’s mind stroking hers, quiet, cautious, shy and for the first time feeling as if he had been invited in rather than being a slightly awkward, unwelcome guest.

As she approached climax Dany viewed her lover in her unique Warg way; not as the ice or snow she had expected, but as another flame with a bright, blue heart, merging with her white hot fire and there, within their shared heat, a small but intense pale flame burning happily.

‘This is your father,’ Dany told the spark as it reached out towards the new arrival.

‘This is Home,’ their child replied.

~o~0~o~

“Your Grace?” Dany blinked her eyes open to a pale morning light and the blurry image of Missandei who was crouching down by her side of the bed. “We let you rest as long as possible but we cannot stay here for much longer.”

She nodded, automatically starting to rise, only to find herself pulled back down by Jon, still mostly asleep as he pressed up against her. She felt him hard against her lower back and flushed red whilst Missandei looked down the ground - eyes sparkling - and Dany was suddenly aware of the furs pooled around their middles and probably not covering very much of their bodies.

“Jon,” she hissed. “We have to get up.”

He only snuggled closer, kissing her shoulder as one hand gently squeezed a breast. “I need to be inside you again first.”

Dany winced, trying to ignore her friend’s muffled giggle. “Missandei’s here, Jon.”

“Huh?” he moved then and she felt him suddenly stiffen as he awoke fully. “Oh sorry, I … Oh, Seven Hells!”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Grace,” Missandei said more formally to him, “but Tormund is waiting outside to escort you back to your pavilion.” Dany noticed her eyes glance up very briefly before she lowered them again quickly. “So, if you would like to dress so I can attend to the queen?”

Dany started to move, allowing Jon to gather the furs around his hips as he turned suddenly bashful in Missandei’s presence. She smirked at his reaction, standing up to accept the silk wrap offered to her and walking away from the bed a little so that he could scramble up to pull on some clothes.

She noticed Missandei’s gaze flicker up again before returning back to her and the girl bit her lip when she noticed the queen raise an eyebrow at her. Once dressed, Jon mumbled out an embarrassed ‘good morning’ to them both before heading out of the pavilion to discuss their wedding with Tyrion and it was only then that she caught the girl’s gaze fully. After no more than a couple of heartbeats the pair started to giggle uncontrollably.

“Well?” Dany asked her as she moved quickly to dress with her friend’s assistance.

“I am even more confused as to why it took you so long to accept your feelings for him,” Missandei replied, with a cheeky smile. “He is very nice to look at.”

“That was part of the problem,” she admitted. “Why I just couldn’t seem to keep my head around him initially?”

Her friend nodded. “But the way he looks at you now and …” She smiled slightly. “You should have seen him yesterday when Drogon finally let him close to you. He looked ready to kill anyone who dared to separate you from him. I know he is a kind man but it was honestly terrifying to confront him.” She dropped her head.

“Thank you for trying but you were right of course, he needed to know.”

She nodded. “And now?”

“And now we need to find a dress that’s suitable for a wedding.”

Missandei smiled brightly. “A limited selection here, of course, but let me see what I can do.”

~o~0~o~

Daenerys emerged from the pavilion to find her army most packed up and moved out; her tent one of only a couple left standing in the vast muddy field a little north-east of King’s Landing. The wildling, Tormund brought her horse forward and offered to lift her up on it, but she declined, more than capable of mounting such a relatively small beast without assistance.

“Was about to set off to Dragonstone with the rest of the army,” he told her, “but Jon’s now invited me to your wedding which should be ... interesting.”

“Interesting?” she asked, curious about the pause.

“We Free Folk don’t hold with all this southern ceremony nonsense,” he said. “We do the choosing ourselves, much like the pair of you did.”

“I don’t know about that,” Dany replied, suddenly distracted by the pleasant sight of Jon approaching on his horse. “I’m not sure how much say either of us really had in the matter.”

“In which case I think the two of you must have problems with your eyesight,” the large man scoffed. “It’s hard to decide which one of you is the prettiest.”

She laughed brightly as Jon came alongside her, looking at Tormund suspiciously as he mumbled, “I don’t think I dare ask.”

“Finally,” Tyrion said, riding up on his horse which was not very much smaller than theirs but saddled slightly differently to make it easier for him. “The army will head towards the next inlet whilst we made this little detour. He looked around again as Arya and Missandei joined them. “Everyone here? Good, let’s go.”

As the party of six headed up the Rosby road, Dany looked back over her shoulder at her army snaking slightly east towards the sea and then over to Jon who gave her a small, wry smile. Then Tyrion was there, manoeuvring his horse in-between theirs, whilst the other three rode slightly behind.

“So then, a few questions,” he began. “I know you haven’t had much time to collect your thoughts after yesterday but it’s going to be hard enough … and expensive enough … convincing a Septon to just drop everything and wed you immediately, without having a whole bunch of awkward questions to answer too and so … we need to get a few things sorted.”

“Such as?” Jon asked.

“What do you know about the southern wedding ceremony?”

He shrugged. “Not much. Only that it’s far longer and more involved than the northern one.”

Tyrion nodded. “Yes, and the first question we need answering is the matter of cloaks.”

“Cloaks?” Dany asked.

Jon scoffed. “You mean the bit about bringing her under my protection?”

“Yes?”

“I think it should be the other way around, don’t you? She’s the one with the dragons, after all.”

“She can take care of herself, as can you,” Tryrion said as Dany laughed at Jon’s comment, “but I actually meant more about bringing her under the protection of your House.”

He scoffed again. “That too. I don’t have one, remember?”

“Not strictly true. Even as a Snow you are part of the Stark House, not even taking into account the fact that the north chose you as their king and so ...” Tyrion paused, frowning. “Actually, that’s an interesting question. I wonder if it’s possible for a king to legitimise himself?”

“I doubt it’s ever been an issue before now,” Dany replied, amused, “but, in this case, Jon will fall under the protection of my House.” She shrugged as the two men gaped at her. “I mean, I suppose I just assumed? Our child will be Targaryen …?” She bit her lip, suddenly realising how little thought she had given to any of this.

Jon shrugged. “All I know is that I need to marry you now because I definitely don’t want the baby to be a Snow or a … Waters?”

“Well we are getting married,” Dany said, “and probably twice so that definitely isn’t going to happen.”

“Twice?”

“I’d like to have a northern ceremony too,” Jon explained.

“Ah,” Tyrion said. “Next question then. Why do you think Jon was able to fly your green, Daenerys? Why did Drogon allow him to help you when no-one else could get close?”

“I’m not sure. We didn’t really get a chance to talk much about that last night.” She shrugged. “Because of his relationship with me, I assume.” And yet … there was something else.  She frowned as she tried to grab the elusive memory.

“Perhaps but, Jon, have you felt a Rider connection at all with either of them?”

Dany started to feel nervous then. She wasn’t sure why, but she had the strangest feeling about where this conversation was heading and, from the look on Jon’s face, she knew she wasn’t alone.

“Some connection, perhaps,” he replied cautiously, “but, no, neither of them would let me close enough to Ride them and Drogon only allowed me in at all because he knew it was the only way to help him.”

“But he did allow you in?” Tyrion pushed. “You didn’t have to force your way in like Cersei’s Wargs did?”

Jon frowned. “No. Why?”

Tyrion instead turned to his queen. “I know you’ve been querying it too, Daenerys. I think that was the real reason for your question to me on the road south.”

“What question?” Jon asked, suspiciously.

“About how the blood bond works in Familiars,” Tyrion replied. “The queen would not be able to Ride your direwolf, no matter how close your relationship, because she does not share the same geographical blood and so you should not be able to connect to dragons for the same reason. You need fifty percent blood at least. We study this. I even taught the subject at the Citadel.”

“What are you saying?” Jon asked.

“I’m saying that the only way Drogon would have let you in willingly, the only reason Rheagal would let you on his back without Daenerys, is if you have Valyrian blood.”

“But ...” He looked at Dany wide-eyed but she could little to reassure him, her own heart suddenly beating faster at the implication.

“Did Lord Stark never give any indication of who your mother was?” Tyrion pushed.

“No.” Jon glowered, turning his head away and Dany could see the muscle in his jaw dancing. “He said he would … when he returned home only ...”

“Logic and science in this case says you have your answer already … at least partially. Daenerys may be the only dragon Rider currently but twenty-five years ago there were … three, four?”

He looked at Dany for confirmation and she nodded. “Yes. A cousin, a couple of uncles and, before that, very many more.”

Jon turned back to her, stunned. “We could be related then?”

“If you’ve any Valyrian blood in you then, yes. There’s a reason why my family gained the reputation for marrying close relations, especially in recent years when there were so few of us left.”

“Although, to be fair, all the nobility in Westeros have intermarried for much the same reasons,” Tyrion added. “To help broker alliances and to keep their local Rider blood strong.”

Jon growled quietly, mumbling something under his breath which she didn’t catch before shaking his head. “It’s not important … at least not something that needs to be discussed right now. I’ve never had a legitimate House of my own anyway so I’ll accept the Targaryen name today for the sake of our child, if that helps. Taking the lady’s House is not uncommon for bastard males anyway, I always knew that, and we’ll worry about the rest of it later – perhaps see if our Familiars have any further insights when they’re closer and … recovered.”

“But, Jon-” Dany began, her own curiosity now piqued.

“-Later!” he snapped, deliberately allowing his horse to fall behind so he could ride with Tormund and Arya.

~o~0~o~

Rosby consisted of a small castle surrounded by a selection of very basic cottages and Dany had to admit to being surprised that somewhere so close to King’s Landing would look quite so rustic. The party of six headed towards the rather unimpressive castle and, once inside its grounds, were lead to a small Sept nestled against the inside of the ancient and slightly crumbling walls.

The Septon immediately began to make excuses as to why he couldn’t possible marry them right away, but Tyrion threw a large bag of gold onto the table and the man’s attitude quickly changed. He looked ready to back out again once he saw Daenerys’ hair, but a glance at Jon’s threatening glower and with another small purse of gold added to the first, and the arrangements were quickly agreed upon.

“Is this it?” the Septon mumbled, as if trying to find one final excuse. “Just four guests?”

“That is more than enough, is it not?” Tyrion pushed.

The man pursed his lips. “As you say.”

Jon had been right about the length of the ceremony. Even taking into account the parts which they were able to leave out due to the hasty nature of this wedding, the whole thing seemed to go on forever. Neither she nor Jon had much knowledge of these gods - another bone of contention with the Septon - and she had to admit to letting her mind drift through most of it.

“Let it be known that Daenerys of House Targaryen and Jon of House Stark are one heart, one flesh, one soul ...”

Are we?

This needed to be done now because her condition would be soon be obvious, even through her winter coat, and she needed their child to be legitimate when it was born, especially if she was able to wrest the southern throne from Cersei at some point in the future. So many weddings here in Westeros were fully arranged to the point that the bride and groom barely knew each other at all and few were ever made for love. Where did that leave her and Jon though?

“I am his and he is mine.”

Daenerys looked down at their hands, bound by the ribbon and then up at Jon to see an expression of wry amusement on his face too. Yes, they had feelings for each other, yes they had some sort of bond - whatever that might be - but still, this just felt so strange and dream-like that she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d wake up soon and find that she’d dreamt the whole thing.

“With this kiss, I pledge my life,” they intoned, finally bringing the ceremony to an end. Another amused glance from Jon as he leant forwards to press his lips gently against hers and she could feel his grin before they even parted, obviously thinking, as she was, just how completely different that was to any of their previous kisses; almost all of which had been open mouthed and greedy.

“We’re doing this all backwards,” her new husband whispered to her as they turned towards their small audience to accept their applause.

Tyrion moved over to talk to the Septon again, checking the paper work and making sure everything was official and in order, before they all headed back to their horses tied up outside of the castle and galloped to rejoin the army who were camped a little further east.

“More organising to do when we get back there,” Tyrion grumbled. “With most of our ships still in the west, I’m not sure how long it’ll take us to get the whole army back to Dragonstone.”

News of the hasty wedding had spread quickly through the camp and the newly married couple were greeted enthusiastically on their return, offered food and drink and then bundled off to celebrate, with the Dothraki being especially enthusiastic about the whole thing, much to Jon’s embarrassment.

The queen’s pavilion had already been set up for the new couple but, in the midst of the celebration, Daenerys felt a familiar presence push against her mind and reached out with her thoughts to greet Drogon who had landed just north of the camp, still a bit confused and annoyed, but now apparently in desperate need of comfort from his Rider.

“I’ll be there soon,” she promised, moving through the camp to search out Tyrion and Jon so she could tell them where she was going. However, when she finally found her husband, she quickly changed her mind, grabbing his hand and pulling him along with her.

“Drogon’s here,” she told him.

Jon nodded. “Ghost is on his way too. I’m staying in touch but don’t want to risk pushing too hard to connect until he’s a little closer. Riding over that distance was not easy and I’ve still not fully recovered.”

“I understand. It’s been the same for me since Drogon flew off.”

“How are you feeling?” Daenerys asked her dragon out loud so that Jon could fully understand their conversation.

‘Hurt.’

“I’m sorry you’re in pain. Can we come closer?”

‘Yes.’

“Both of us? Jon really is my mate now.” She sensed his confusion. “I said it was different for us but now it is official. True.”

‘Always true. Always blood mate.’

“Blood mate?” She looked at Jon quizzically but he just shrugged. “What do you mean?”

Drogon shook his his head, grumbling and she knew he was still far too muddled after the over-Ride to explain further.

‘We fly?’ he asked instead.

“Yes,” she said out loud, smiling at Jon. “Let’s get away from all of this, husband. Let’s travel ahead to Dragonstone now and spend some time alone before the army arrives and then, perhaps, we’ll also be able to get some more answers from Drogon about … everything.”

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Jon

“Jon, look!”

Daenerys’ excited shout pulled Jon from his sleepy brooding and he raised his head to see the island of Dragonstone in the distance, the impressive grey castle perched on a high cliff and clearly visible even from up here on Drogon’s back.

However, despite having this new view to savour, Jon’s mind refused to calm, quite unable to put Tyrion’s questions to one side, no matter how hard he tried. Valyrian blood? He knew there was something about his interaction with the dragons that had felt unusual, from as far back as the Battle for the Dawn, and he knew about the blood bond, of course, even if he had somehow conveniently forgotten that information during his earlier encounters. However, now that Tyrion had suggested that his connection with the dragons guaranteed some Valyrian ancestry, that theory became very much harder to ignore.

The last two days had exhausted him in more ways than one, and so he had grabbed the chance of flying here with Dany enthusiastically, even if he would have probably preferred to spend time brooding with Ghost as was his custom. He shook his head, cross with himself for even thinking such a thing. He had responsibilities now. He was married with a child on the way and … Jon took a lungful of cool air to help push away the brief feeling of panic that thrummed through him at that thought, focusing instead on the scenery, as Daenerys urged Drogon to circle the island a couple of times before landing.

It was a beautiful place, there was no question about it, with waves crashing along a rugged coastline of towering cliffs and with colourful, awe-inspiring rock formations jutting out from the sand. A long, winding causeway lead up from the beach to the castle, although they would have no need to climb that today, Drogon setting them down near the edge of a grassy cliff and lowering his wing for them to dismount before calling up to the skies as Rhaegal descended to join them.

Dany looked up at her dragons and then at Jon curiously but he shook his head, aware of what she was suggesting.

“I think all four of us are exhausted and muddled enough right now and, as much as I want answers and as tempting as it is to explore this beautiful place, I need the sleep far more.”

She nodded. “Sleep first, yes.” She smiled cheekily at him. “Although I think the second item on our list should be the consummation of our marriage, don’t you?”

“Really?” Jon laughed, nodding down at her. “You don’t think there’s proof enough of that already?”

She laughed, holding out her hand for him to take as they headed towards the castle. “Not since our marriage.”

Despite their desire for sleep, Daenerys gave Jon a very brief tour, showing him the magnificent Throne Room and the Chamber of the Painted Table before heading towards the royal apartments, stopping a few servants on the way to request food to be brought up for them.

“We’re not entirely alone here then?” Jon said.

“Of course not. Obviously I left a small contingent of soldiers and servants here, as this place is far too precious and strategic to leave vulnerable.”

“It’s where you were born, I remember you saying.”

She nodded, smiling as they strode down a long corridor, hand in hand. “The last stronghold of the Targaryens and the dragon Riders, even though our numbers have dwindled over the last few centuries.”

Jon sighed deeply, wishing he’d not brought it up. He really couldn’t face such a conversation until after he had had another very long sleep.

The bed chamber Daenerys showed him to had Jon gaping in awe. He had always considered the state rooms in Winterfell to be luxurious but this place made his home look rustic in comparison. Although constructed of a similar grey stone, Dragonstone had a lighter, more open feel and this room was lavishly decorated in bright colours and containing the largest bed Jon had ever seen, with four posts and a canopy decorated in a rich, Targaryen red which he eyed curiously - half-greedy, half-wary.

“Not sure if I’ll sleep in that or sink.”

“You’ll sleep,” she told him, laughing. “And then, afterwards, you’ll fuck your wife and queen until she begs for mercy.”

“The first two parts of that are certain,” he retorted with a smile, “although I’m not so sure how likely you are to beg.”

She bit her lips, looking up at him coyly. “I do believe you are the only one who has ever managed it.”

He took a step closer, licking his lips. “You’re making it very hard for me to think about simply falling asleep. In fact, my body is already starting to get other ideas.”

“Mine too,” she replied, as she started to undress, offering him her back so he could help with a couple of the more inaccessible fastenings. “But I really do think sleep is more important for us right now.”

Despite that, they both undressed fully, needing the feel of skin against skin and knowing they would want more once they woke up. Jon sighed, as he pulled the covers over himself, his eyes already heavy, and then smiled as he felt his wife snuggle up against him, hugging her close against his chest and kissing her gently on the back of her neck.

His wife!

Jon fell asleep with a contented smile on his face.

~o~0~o~

He woke to find they’d changed position with Daenerys now lying against his back and with one of her hands wrapped firmly around his cock. Jon mumbled sleepily as she placed light kisses against his shoulder blades - wiggling back against her whilst she continuing to caress him - and felt his desire quickly spike through his exhaustion.

He remained still for a while though, savouring her touch, until he could no longer remain passive, turning over so quickly he made her jump. He laughed at her surprised squeak, pushing her onto her back and kissing her eagerly; her giggle quickly turning to a gasp as he took his turn in pleasuring her, his hand quickly trailing between her legs whilst their kissing turned hungry.

“How would you like me to take you, my queen?” he asked in mock seriousness.

“Like this,” she replied. “I want to see you. I want you lying on top of me whilst the position is still possible. I want to be looking into your eyes when you finally, fully become my husband.”

“As you command, your Grace,” Jon said slyly, gently moving into position between her legs, “but you’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?”

As keen as he was to consummate their marriage, he stayed on his knees between her legs for some time, continuing to pleasure her with his fingers whilst he gently kissed her breasts, neck and lips until she was unable to take it any more.

“Jon … please.”

“Are you begging already?” he teased. “We’ve barely even started.”

She attempted to glare at him, not especially convincingly seeing what his fingers were currently doing to her. “It’s not too late to kick you out of here,” she said. “Do you really want your child to be a Snow too?”

“Are you going back to being rude to me again, after everything you said earlier?” He latched onto her nipple then, suckling a little more firmly than he had been, just enough to have her gasp and throw her head back on the pillow.

“Next time I’m going to gag you so you can’t talk,” Dany complained.

“Ah, but think of all the other things I won’t be able to do with my mouth.”

“Or perhaps I’ll tie you up completely?”

“That sounds … interesting,” he countered, ducking back down to kiss her lips but she turned her head away from him, smirking.

“You’d hate it,” she declared. “But I think I’d find it a great deal of fun.”

He tried to catch her lips again and she allowed it briefly before suddenly nipping at his lower lip. “Ow, Dany!”

“Stop complaining, Jon. I know you like it rough.”

She was goading him, he knew. He’d fallen for it far too many times already and yet, despite their history, something had changed, their insults now having far more of a teasing aspect to them than when they’d been back in the tower.

She had got what she wanted now though, teasing and riling Jon until he lost all patience, moving his hands up to her head to stop her from pulling away and thus allowing her to wrap her legs around his hips. All it took was one more gentle bite of his lower lip and he was hers, pushing inside her quickly, savouring the perfect snug heat of her, whilst being simultaneously annoyed that he hadn’t been able to drag out their pleasure for just a little bit longer.

“I … told you to … look at me,” she gasped out.

She knew he was close and Jon had no resistance left in him, lifting his head from where it was buried under her hair against her neck and moving it until they were nose to nose, just as she had ordered. This time her hands came up to hold his face, her eyes wide and pupils dark as she pushed her mind against his; caressing it as gently as her fingers were caressing his cheeks.

For a brief, wonderful moment, all their teasing, tiredness and frustrations disappeared and it was just the two of them joined in body and mind - melting into each other, fire and ice - and their climax, when it happened, was unusually silent - no screams or cries or gasps - simply the sound of their frantic breathing as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

~o~0~o~

Most of that night and the following day passed in a delightful blur; deep sleeps, interrupted by bursts of passion with small breaks for food and other essentials. A bath tub in the adjoining room was a rare luxury for Jon but the couple’s promise to allow the other time alone to soak became impossible to keep, each finding the other’s wet nakedness far too tempting to resist. As the pair got over the worst of their exhaustion, they spent less time sleeping and more time loving and Jon managed to put all other thoughts to one side and focus only on his new wife and how many different ways he could make her happy.

Dany held true to her threat halfway through their first full day on the island, returning to their chambers with her hands full of chords and long ribbons, informing Jon that he was to be punished for his rudeness earlier, and the glint in her eyes had her husband happily playing along, getting out of bed whilst still naked and kneeling down in front of her, begging for her mercy.

They started with serious intent but, as Dany’s initial attempts to get Jon’s wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts failed, the session dissolved into giggles and it was quite some time before she had him sufficiently restrained so she could begin her game in earnest.

“So?” he asked, genuinely curious as to what she had in mind. “How do you expect to enjoy this with me tied up like this?”

Her smile then was worryingly sly. “Have you no imagination, Jon Snow?” She frowned. “Is that even your name now?”

“I …?”

“Jon Targaryen I think you should be, because you’re mine and I now intent to fully claim you.”

She began the torture by kissing him chastely on the lips before placing a few more in various, random places. One on his chest, another on his outer thigh, then his stomach, up to his cheek and down to an arm and yet, whilst her lips touched fairly innocuous parts of his body, her eyes were considerably more daring, constantly checking to see how turned on he was becoming, whilst she licked her lips suggestively. Jon started to squirm and gasp, belatedly understanding something of the nature of her game, and soon she was kissing at his waist, his lower stomach and then high up on his thighs, just so … so close but not close enough and it wasn’t long before he was the one begging, much to her obvious delight.

He hadn’t expected this teasing to last for long, quite certain Dany would want him to touch her soon, but he quickly realised he’d under-estimated her as she knelt up next to his hips, her knees wide, and again licked her lips.

“You are a cruel, cruel man,” she declared.

“Me?” Jon gasped. “What did I do? I’m the one tied up here.”

“You are driving me wild, just lying there all helpless and gorgeous,” she said. “How am I supposed to resist you?”

“You’re not,” he growled. “Untie me and I’ll show you just how wild I can be.”

“Oh, not so fast,” she said, leaning slightly forwards and sliding her knees even further apart. “ I’m getting desperate here and need to do something about it.” And she slid her own hand in-between her legs and started to pleasure herself and Jon looked up at her aghast to see her smirking at him.

“Now who’s cruel?” he said, his gaze falling back down to watch her fingers as they circled and pressed and he licked his lips, wishing desperately that he could either take his turn or taste her there instead. She continued for a while - although it probably wasn’t as long as it seemed to him - before leaning down to place more teasing kisses on various parts of his body.

“Where would you like me to kiss you next, Jon?” she asked, her voice breathy as she continued to pleasure herself in full view of him whilst her lips teased his lower stomach.”

“You know where,” he gasped. “Please, Dany.”

The first feather-light touch of her lips on his cock had him gasping, sucking in a breath and closing his eyes as he worried he’d finish then and there. When she took him in her mouth soon after, he was shocked at just how close he was, even without being able to touch her, but she soon withdrew, giving him a chance to recover and smirking as Jon begged her to untie him.

She asked him for other promises then - he wasn’t even sure what it was he was saying. All he knew was that he would say anything, agree to anything if only she would let him take back control. Instead she straddled him, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she rode him for several short sharp bursts, using her Warg skills to sense when he was close, then stopping, before dropping down on him hard again until he was shouting her name loud enough for the whole castle to hear.

“I hate you,” he gasped afterwards, her intense attentions having made him finish far earlier than he would have liked.

“I don’t believe you,” she replied, lying down next to him and laughing. “Now … about all those things you promised me.”

“Those were made under duress,” he grumbled. “Now untie me, woman and let me take my turn because, as much as you enjoyed torturing me, I know you’re not fully satisfied.”

“Oh, do you now?” she retorted, but she was already untying his wrists and Jon pulled away just as soon as he could, quickly releasing his own ankles and reaching out to grab at her before she got a chance to run away.

“My turn,” he repeated, as he pushed her back onto the bed and leant down to kiss her.

~o~0~o~

Jon felt as if he could stay in bed with his new wife forever, but it wouldn’t be long before Daenerys’ army arrived on the island and the royal couple had other things they needed to do before that. So, finally, after a number of failed attempts, the two of them managed to drag themselves out of bed, get dressed and leave their bed-chambers, heading outside to check on the dozing dragons whilst Jon cast his mind out to connect with Ghost.

“He’s still a little way west,” he told Dany. “Just approaching the Blackwater Rush, but close enough now that I can contact him more easily.

“Good.” She looked at the dragons and then to Jon. “Ready for this?”

“Not really,” he replied with a loud sigh, “but there’s no point in putting it off any longer.”

He wrapped one arm around Daenerys’ shoulder as she snuggled in against the fur of his cloak, both gently leaning on each other physically and mentally as she cast her mind out to her Familiar and Jon connected both to Ghost and to her. Then he tentatively reached out to Drogon, pausing for a moment as he felt the dragon shift uncomfortably, waiting.

“Will you let Jon in?” Dany asked. “Not to Ride you but … just to listen?”

‘Yes.’

Jon breathed out and made the final connection.

“Why do you let him in?” Dany continued.

‘Is not a choice.’

“He keeps saying that,” she said to Jon, “but I never really understand what he means by it.”

“Ghost, would you let Daenerys hear you?”

‘No.’

“Why not?”

‘No choice.’

Jon nodded. “They mean that they’re not the ones deciding whether or not they can do something. It’s just the way it is. Like Drogon asking us why we walk rather than fly.”

“So I can’t Ride Ghost because I have the wrong blood?” Dany asked.

‘Yes,’ Drogon replied.

But Jon could Ride you?

‘No. I have Rider.’

“Or Rhaegal?”

‘Brother has Rider.’

Dany gaped turning to look at Jon who shrugged, also surprised by the comment. “What? Who?” she asked.

There was no response to that, Drogon apparently confused by the question as they were by his answer.

“But if there were another dragon alive I might be able to?” Jon asked.

‘Yes. Dragon blood.’

He gasped. “I have dragon blood?”

‘Yes. Half wolf, half dragon.’

“Well, that seems clear enough,” Dany commented calmly, whilst Jon’s mind reeled at the apparent confirmation.

“My mother was a dragon Rider then?” he asked.

‘No. Wolf sired by dragon.’

“What?” Jon was so shocked by the implication of that, that he pulled away from Daenerys and lost his connection to both Familiars in the process. His wife was still talking with Drogon but all Jon could do now was to see if Ghost could add anything further.

“I never asked you before,” he said to his Familar. “I never thought to. But what do you know of my parents?”

‘You have wolf blood. You were born wolf. That was all.’

“But did you know I was half dragon?”

‘Wrong blood. Strange blood. Not known to wolves.’

“So why bond with me when there was a full wolf standing next to me?”

‘Strong blood. Bonding is not a choice.’

And there it was again.

“Jon?” Dany asked.

“As far as I can tell, Ghost connected to me because I’m a Warg and somehow that was a better option for him than my brother Robb. He knew that I wasn’t entirely Stark but could never explain it to me because he didn’t recognise the Valyrian blood. That was the other reason why he sought out Drogon that night back in Winterfell, trying to discover the part of me that he never understood.”

“Does he confirm it was your father who was the dragon?”

“I-I don’t know. Perhaps I’ll try again when he’s closer.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand though, Dany. I’m Ned Stark’s bastard, that’s always been both my curse and my blessing. It’s always been my mother’s identity that’s been the unknown and so none of this is making any sense to me.”

“Where there any female Riders in your family of the right age?” she asked.

He frowned, thinking. “I seem to remember that my aunt Lyanna attended the Citadel. She was the only one of that generation that I’m aware of.”

“And?”

“And she went missing. Disappeared. No-one ever discovered what had happened to her until her bones were returned to the crypt.” He gaped, as he turned to Dany who was raising an eyebrow at him. “Lyanna?”

“So, perhaps Lord Stark did know what happened to her. Perhaps she fell pregnant whilst in Oldtown and turned to her brother for help?”

“Gods, Dany. I can’t ...” Jon put his head in his hands. “How can I find out the truth of this when everyone involved is dead? All I have are the instincts and cryptic comments of Familiars and what proof is that of anything?”

“That’s true,” she said moving closer again, “but perhaps we can piece together the rest. Perhaps there’s some evidence that was not destroyed during the Cull or perhaps there are survivors from her time there who can remember something of importance. I’m sure that now we know this much we can fill in the missing pieces.” She frowned. “I also know the names of most of the recent dragon Riders. We have been a small enough group over the last hundred years that it should be easy enough to find a student or tutor who was at the Citadel at the same time as your aunt.”

He finally managed to look at her. “We’re cousins then?”

“Probably.” She shrugged. “Closer than that possibly, considering the history of the Targaryens. Some say that all our intermarrying was what caused our family to die out but then ...” She reached out to pull his hand onto her belly. “Any blood that you and I might share certainly didn’t seem to be a problem in this case.”

Jon pulled her back towards him then, resting his chin on the top of her head. “All that was needed was to mix in a bit of wolf blood. That obviously made all the difference.”

She chuckled. “And now, after the shock of it all, I realise that I am very pleased that it happened.”

“As am I,” Jon replied, kissing the top of her head. “I have one more question for Drogon before we go. We need to ask how and why Rhaegal came for me.”

“Well, we know now that they accept you because of your dragon blood.”

“Yes, but Drogon just implied I don’t have a Rider bond and you said that you didn’t send him to Oldtown?”

“No, I didn’t.” She pulled away to turn back to her dragon and Jon focused again, pushing his mind out towards his wife and the Familiars so he could hear the conversation too.

“Why did Rhaegal fly to Jon?” Dany asked.

‘Not known.’

“You don’t know? Or Rhaegal doesn’t?”

‘No choice.’

“It was instinct then? He knew Jon was in danger and that he had to be helped?”

‘No. Dragon Rider in danger.’

“Me? So he only rescued Jon so that he could help me?”

There was a very long pause before Drogon replied and his answer seemed uncertain, as if he didn’t fully understand Rheagal's reasoning either.

‘Mate not in danger. Dragons in danger. Only mate could help.’

Jon nodded. “I got that much from Rhaegal at the time. The fact that I was needed in order to help you.”

“And I got some vague communication from Bran before Rheagal left so perhaps he might have more insights for us.”

“Yes.” Jon frowned. “How long will you need to stay here on Dragonstone, Dany? How much needs discussing when Tyrion and the others arrive? I’m thinking now that it’s even more important for us to return to Winterfell as soon as possible. In fact I’ve just told Ghost to start heading that way.”

“That’s a good idea. You’re right that there is a lot to discuss when the army gets here but, yes, as soon as we can, we’ll fly north on Drogon, talk with your brother and then have our northern wedding there.”

“Brother …?” Jon swallowed hard, his mind reeling.

“Your cousin then,” she replied calmly. He winced and she turned to him, running her fingers against his cheek. “They’re just words, Jon. What matters is that they always have been and always will be your family and nothing we learn about your blood parents will ever change that.”

He nodded, smiling weakly at her as he held out a hand for her to take. “Not worth worrying about until we have more information anyway.”

“It isn’t,” Dany agreed. “And, what’s more, you have another family to think about now ...” She pulled the hand she was holding towards her, placing it gently on her stomach. “Your Targaryen family.”

He smiled shyly at her, leaning forwards to kiss her on the lips. “Yes, and we really should take full advantage of what little time we have left here. Let’s continue to discuss all of this in our chambers.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you want to do in there, Jon? Talk?”

He smirked. “Talk, yell, scream, gasp ... Yes, all of those things.”

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Act Three: Prophecy

Daenerys

Daenerys felt Jon gasp in her ear as they approached Winterfell, squeezing her waist as he leant forwards on Drogon’s back.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’ve never seen the castle from this angle before it’s … it’s so beautiful.”

She couldn’t help at grin on hearing such an emotional response from him. “I should feel jealous,” she teased. “You never use that tone of voice when complimenting me.”

He paused only for a moment before she felt his deep chuckle against her back. “That’s because I’m usually dealing with other emotions whenever I admire your beauty.”

She allowed Drogon to circle the castle a few times, both to let Jon enjoy the view some more as well as to warn Sansa of their arrival. They had sent Rider-birds this way, of course, but it was becoming obvious that numerous, contradictory messages were floating around Westeros at the moment and so they couldn’t be certain they were expected.

Drogon landed a little way from the north gate whilst Rhaegal headed straight towards the Wolfwood and their old lair there. Daenerys had suggested that the smaller dragon allow Jon to fly him up here from Dragonstone but the green had refused.

‘Mate is not brother’s Rider,’ was all Drogon would say when she asked her own Familiar for the reason and Dany could only assume that it had been the extreme circumstances which had allowed Rhaegal to make the exception for her husband during the Oldtown battle.

The royal couple were met at the gate by Sansa and Varys, both striding over quickly and definitely appearing surprised by their arrival.

“We gathered you were coming ahead of your army but I don’t think we’d realised you meant by dragon.” Sansa turned to Jon wide-eyed. “How did it feel to fly up here?”

“Well, it’s not actually the first time I’ve been on dragon-back,” he replied, “but let’s just say this was the most pleasant of the trips and the castle looks great from up there.”

“He was drooling, in fact,” Dany teased before turning to Varys. “How have things been here?”

“Surprisingly busy as it happens. We have a lot of news to discuss with you.”

“Yes, we assumed that would be the case but ...” She turned to look briefly at Jon. “… we really need to talk with Bran first.”

Sansa looked curiously at Jon. “I think that is the most urgent item, yes, and then perhaps a small, select meeting to discuss these important matters?”

Varys nodded. “Well, it will be especially small considering most of our key personnel are still travelling back up here but, yes, it is important we take all necessary precautions now, I agree.”

They all headed down the pathway towards the Great Keep, Daenerys deliberately walking with Sansa and leaving Jon with Varys, keen to not let herself get distracted by her husband at this point. There were currently far too many curious eyes turned in their direction and she hoped that her thick riding gear was still keeping her pregnancy well hidden for the time being – just until she had had time to fully update everyone and put their new, tentative plans into practice.

“Come and find me once you’ve finished,” Sansa said as she left them at Bran’s door. “I’ll just go and help Varys arrange that meeting.”

“Of course,” Jon responded over his shoulder as they walked into the room, “thank you.” He then turned to Bran, sitting in his special chair by the roaring fire. “How are you?”

“Well enough,” the young man replied. “I’ve been doing my best to keep in touch via all my many birds.”

“We gather there has been a lot of misinformation being spread around at the moment?”

“Yes, and I’ve tried to find out exactly what’s happening down there for Sansa but it isn’t always easy. Having access to so many animals and with no dedicated Familiar does make things considerably more complicated.”

“I can imagine.”

The boy shrugged, as if not believing that anyone could imagine such a thing. Dany and Jon moved to sit in a couple of chairs opposite Bran, both removing their cloaks as they did so, and the young man’s gaze immediately fell on Daenerys, his eyes scanning her up and down and taking note of her fuller figure.

“I seem to remember you telling us you couldn’t have children?” he said.

She smoothed a hand over the now obvious curve of her stomach. “That is what I was told in Essos but, apparently, it wasn’t true.”

He nodded. “Although the rumours about the nature of your relationship with my brother obviously were?”

Jon huffed a quiet laugh and Dany smiled too. Bran often came over as distant and humourless but that was simply a result of having to deal with too many emotions – it didn’t mean he didn’t have any.

“We were mostly curious to get your insights on our battle,” Daenerys said then. “I got a message from you ...” She glanced over at Jon. “… we both did.”

Bran nodded. “I’m glad it worked. I admit that I was a little sceptical myself.”

“But how did you know?” Jon said. “How could you possibly know that we both needed help … before we knew ourselves?”

“I didn’t, exactly.” Bran frowned as if trying to work it out himself. “It’s the animals, you see, they have … an instinct for danger to the extent that it’s almost like premonition. I was Warging from a very great distance and trying to open myself to as many Familiars as I could and, for a moment, it was as if I was part of some hive mind and experiencing the thoughts and fears of numerous different creatures. Maybe I even sensed the kraken or Ghost or the dragons …?” His voice trailed off briefly before he nodded, apparently remembering something. “I definitely sensed the dragons, and the green one was exceptionally fearful and projecting his emotions quite strongly although … I’m not sure I entirely understood them at the time.”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Dany said, frustrated. “He’s never allowed me to Ride his mind or even fly him. He and Viserion were only ever part of the Flight and it’s only since the southern battle that I’ve started to get a far stronger sense of him along with a few odd, contradictory comments via his brother.”

“Such as?” Bran asked.

“That he allowed Jon to mount him to come to my rescue but wouldn’t allow him to Ride his mind. Then, on the way up here, he wouldn’t even let him on his back.”

“Because it wasn’t an emergency?” Bran suggested. “Because you weren’t in danger?”

“That’s what we’re assuming. We just wondered if you had any further insights.”

“Not much more than I’ve already said. That I somehow managed to tune into a large number of animals’ instincts and that perhaps the over-riding one was the green being worried about … you.”

Jon turned to him abruptly, noticing the pause. “Daenerys?”

“I … think so,” Bran replied, frowning hard. “At the time I assumed he was worried about Jon. Perhaps because I was projecting my own concern for him or … I could have even been sensing Ghost?”

“Yes, I originally assumed that was why he was sent,” Dany said, “but, in hindsight, we thought it was more because he wanted Jon to come back to King’s Landing. Because only he could help me with my two Wargs.”

“That does make sense,” Bran agreed. “Were you not able to get any more out of your dragon?”

“Only that his brother wanted to protect his Rider which doesn’t make sense because he doesn’t have one.” She sighed. “Communication with a single Familiar is hard enough but having one dragon attempt to translate the thoughts of another is even more confusing.”

The boy smiled slightly. “Now multiply that by scores and you get some idea as to why I cannot fully answer your question either.” But then he frowned. “Except ...”

“What?”

“How many months along are you now?”

“I ...” Daenerys frowned, confused by the unexpected question. “About five? Why?”

“Have you considered that perhaps you’re carrying his Rider? After all, the child of two Wargs would be ...” Bran looked suddenly and very obviously shocked. The expression quite alien on a usual calm features.

“What?” Jon asked.

Bran shook his head. “It makes sense though, doesn’t it? That a dragon, with such high intellect and amazing instincts, would somehow know your child is to be his Rider and would want to protect it. That he would even allow Jon to ride on his back if it were the only chance at saving its life.”

“And also because he is the father?” Daenerys mused. “I mean, if you’d been close, Bran, do you think he would have allowed you to fly him?

“No, I don’t think that he would. No matter how dire the situation.”

“Yes, but we now know there may have been other reasons for him accepting me, don’t we?” Jon said.

“You do?” Bran asked.

Jon frowned, looking towards Dany for a moment before taking a big breath. “We think … our Familiars think ... that I have Valyrian blood. In fact, they believe it is through my father and not my mother.”

“But ...” Bran turned his head, as if remembering something. “Perhaps ...”

“When we realised you had had some sense of the future we couldn’t help but wonder if you had any knowledge of the past too.”

He shook his head. “Not my knowledge - that of the animals - but, now that I have the theory, I suppose I could look into it some more.”

“I’ve sent a message to Sam at Oldtown too,” Jon continued. “I made a point of being fairly vague but I basically asked him to look for more information about Lyanna when she was studying at the Citadel.”

Bran tipped his head slowly regarding him. “You think she’s your mother?”

“The Familiars say I’m half wolf and half dragon so ...” He shrugged.

“And that would make your child, three-quarters dragon,” Bran mumbled, almost to himself.

“What is it, Bran?” Jon said, urgently. “What is it about our child that’s worrying you?”

Dany snapped her head around towards Jon. “Worrying?” Her husband could obviously read even more off the young man due to their closeness.

“Next time you contact Sam, ask him if there has been any record of two Wargs having had a child together,” Bran said. “My thought is that there hasn’t been. Not in recent history.”

“And …?”

“Such a child would have the potential to be very powerful and, with so much Valyrian blood, could also potentially bond with a dragon.”

“No ...” Jon went suddenly pale. “Surely you don’t think our child could be the Warg Monarch?”

“It all fits, doesn’t it?”

“No, but that … that …”

“Jon? What is it?” Dany asked. “I don’t understand.”

“Bran has already tried to explain how hard it is for him to connect to so many animals, to try and sort through all those thoughts, instincts and emotions and stay in touch with the real world at the same time. To not get … lost.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever truly master it,” Bran agreed solemnly.

“So, what are you saying?”

“That the Warg Monarch is prophesied to be far more powerful than him,” Jon explained. “To be able to Warg any animal, to over-Ride with ease, to ...” He stopped, biting his lip.

“To Warg humans,” Bran finished.

“I know we have the ability to influence certain people if we’re skilled enough,” Dany said, not fully understanding the men’s concern. “To subtly push them into our way of thinking, but we’re taught not to do that from an early age. I did it once, when I was very young and ...” She shuddered. “The telling off I got. The real fear in the eyes of my tutors when they realised what I’d done.”

“So now you see what I’m afraid of, Dany,” Jon said. “How old were you then?”

“I-I’m not sure … eight, nine?”

“Old enough to understand and be reasoned with? And you’ve told me already how difficult you were as a child, mostly due to your very great ability. Now imagine that our child is even more able than you were. If their ability makes you seem like an Outsider in contrast then, well, how are we going to deal with that?”

“Of course, whilst it is more likely that a child of Riders will have the ability, there is certainly no guarantee,” Bran said. “No more than it is for any talent to be passed from parent to child, and Jon and I had thought that the prophecy wasn’t going to be fulfilled for many years yet.”

“That may be true,” Dany said, with a sigh, stroking her stomach gently. “But there is ability there, I know … I’ve … I’ve already sensed it.”

Jon came over to her then, crouching beside her chair and placing his hand on top of hers. “Rider ability or not, there is no way that a child of yours will be anything other than amazing.”

She placed a hand on his cheek, smirking slightly. “Our child will be amazing and beautiful, strong in body and mind, and ... probably very, very stubborn.”

He laughed loudly. “Oh, of that I have absolutely no doubt.”

~o~0~o~

Daenerys kept her eyes down, watching her fingers as they fiddled with the table, trying to ignore the awkwardness she was feeling during this meeting. “You were all right, of course,” she admitted to the small group. “It was too early to attack the south and I should have waited as you suggested.”

“You couldn’t have know they would have Wargs,” Jon said but she just shook her head, knowing he was just trying to make her feel better.

“None of us even contemplated such a thing,” Sansa said.

“That is true,” Varys said. “but we should have. That’s something we need to work on now more than ever, especially with so much false information floating around.”

“Talking of which,” Daenerys said, leaning forward to place a small scroll in front of Sansa. “I received this from Cersei shortly before I left Dragonstone.” She grinned. “She seems to be under the impression that I conquered the north and took Winterfell by force.”

“Yes, I know.” Sansa said, the smallest glint in her eye. “She sent me a scroll too.”

“Oh?”

The young lady’s smile grew surprisingly sly. “She offered to pardon me for claiming northern independence if I helped with her plan to overthrow the so-called Warg Monarch and offered to bend the knee to her instead.”

“What?” Jon asked, shocked. “She thinks Daenerys is the Monarch?”

“I thought I was the Monarch, if you remember?”

He rolled his eyes. “I do, yes.”

“And that’s another thing, Jon,” Sansa continued. “Apparently the news of your … conflict with Daenerys has somehow got back to Cersei as you having been forced into a marriage alliance with her in order to secure a claim on the north.”

Dany turned to Varys on hearing this but the eunuch shrugged. “I would love to claim responsibility for such a rumour but it seems she mostly came to that conclusion by herself. However, once I became aware of her misunderstanding, I admit that I … encouraged it as much as I was able.”

“And that helps us, how?” Jon asked.

“I’m not entirely certain yet,” the eunuch replied, “but as long as we hold more accurate information, any misinformation Cersie has helps us. As we discovered regarding her Wargs.”

“And do we know who the other two are yet?” Jon asked. “I know I battled Euron, Theon’s uncle.”

“I believe one is her new Hand,” Varys replied. “ A man called Qyburn who did not complete his training at Oldtown and was exiled … for some reason or another.”

“As I was?” Dany said.

“Not exactly under the same circumstances, Your Grace. He is an older man so this would have been quite some time in the past. I’m not sure if I can find out the reason why Qyburn was kicked out of the Citadel but I have started to make enquiries. I’m afraid I have no information about the other as yet.” He turned to Jon. “Do you know his Familiar?”

“One of the queen’s attackers was a dog, the other a horse.”

Varys nodded. “Qyburn is the dog, I believe, so … I shall see what I can find out.”

“Thank you.”

“And so what is the plan now?” Sansa asked. ”Tyrion suggested initially that you might attack again whilst Cersei was still regrouping, but more recent messages seem to show you’ve had a change of heart?”

“Yes.” Dany smoothed a hand over the swell of her stomach. “It’s probably best I don’t go back into battle in my current condition.”

Sansa smiled broadly. “Ah, I did wonder. Congratulations. Do you know when you’re due?”

“Perhaps another four months?” She shrugged. “And Jon and I are now married although there was perhaps not the pressure put on him that Cersei believes.”

She smiled at her husband who rolled his eyes. “There was no pressure. The baby perhaps sped things up a little but, you and Tyrion were right about that too, an alliance between us does make a great deal of sense. A true alliance and not the forced one that Cersei believes.” He smiled at her then. “But that was a southern wedding and we do plan to have another here in Winterfell. That way there can be no doubt about its legitimacy.”

“Then may I add my congratulations,” Varys said. “Will you be waiting for the others to return?”

“Aye,” Jon confirmed. “We definitely want Arya and our closest friends and advisors to be able to attend.”

“And the plan,” Dany continued. “If you’ll accept it, is for us to consolidate the north with our marriage alliance.”

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked.

“When I first arrived here, your main concern was Cersei attacking when all you wanted was to be left alone.” She sighed. “My plan failed and so I shall instead help you with yours. My troops will now strengthen the natural and military defences you have in place at The Neck whilst others will help to defend and train your citizens. If you need food or supplies I can bring them in on my dragon or arrange to have them shipped in when …” She again stroked her belly, “... I am no longer able.”

“We will rule as King and Queen here in the short term,” Jon said, “but I have not forgotten our plan for a Council of Seven. That is something we can also start to put into practice when the others have all arrived back.”

“And Cersei?” Sansa asked.

“Her letter also invited me to King’s Landing for a ‘meeting’,” Daenerys replied, “but she must understand that I wouldn’t accept, even without knowing of my condition.” She shook her head. “So, for now we will focus on the north and otherwise just see what the future brings. Unfortunately, I suspect that we will not be able to ignore the southern queen indefinitely, no matter how appealing that idea sounds at the moment.”

~o~0~o~

Jon and Daenerys’ second wedding was very different to their first. For a start it was a far larger and more extravagant affair, with the whole castle and most of Wintertown seemingly involved in getting the castle ready for the late night feast. It was also something the couple had very much chosen to do - something they were able to plan and get excited about – and so, for Dany, this time felt much more real, her nervousness reaching the point that she could hardly sit still as the evening approached.

Their family and advisors had suggested the pair sleep apart for the week leading up to the wedding, something that felt akin to torture to the young king and queen. Daenerys’ pregnancy had not dulled her sexual appetite - even fuelling it at times - and neither had Jon’s desire for her abated, his affections for her apparently increasing in proportion to her waistline.

Up until that restriction, almost all of their free time had been spent in each other’s company and mostly holed up in their chambers; their sexual, bickering relationship very slowly changing until Dany could hardly remember why she had ever felt annoyed by Jon. When she saw him standing by the strange, white Weirwood tree waiting for her, she was finally, belatedly, able to put a name to the emotion that had been building slowly within her for the last six months. Love. And if she hardly remembered anything of this ceremony it was for a very different reason than the first, her gaze now holding Jon’s throughout, unable to hear or see or feel anything but him.

“They’re laughing at us,” Jon whispered as they made their way back towards the castle arm in arm.”

She blinked, finally coming out of the strange trance she’d been in. “What? Why?”

“Because of how often we had to be prompted back there. Both in saying the words and ...” He grinned, “actually ending the kiss.”

She smiled shyly. “It was a lovely kiss but I want rather more than that now.”

He laughed. “Which was very obvious, my love. Hence the teasing.”

She turned to glare at him but his returning gaze proved she wasn’t the only one with lustful thoughts on her mind. “We could just go back to our chambers?” she suggested.

“Nothing I’d like more,” Jon replied, “but, considering how much effort has been put into this wedding, we really should put in an appearance at the feast.”

“I suppose we should,” she agreed.

The Great Hall did look magnificent and Daenerys was certainly hungry enough to eat the food at the High Table, especially as her appetite had been muted by nerves during the last couple of days, but their recent forced separation made it very much harder for the couple to hide their feelings for each other and it wasn’t long before Jon was standing up and holding a hand out to his wife to leave with him, whilst most of the guests were barely halfway through their main course.

“Aye, let the Bedding commence,” Lord Glover bellowed. “Watching our king and queen drool over each other is quite putting me off my food.”

“But not your ale, I notice!” another voice called out.

“No undressing,” Jon ordered as they were surrounded by a raucous crowd. “An escort only tonight … and keep your hands to yourselves, my lords, my wife is not yours to grope.”

“Aye, Your Grace, we shall leave that up to you,” someone replied.

“Any who have seen the king fight would not dare cross him,” Lord Glover said. “And what need do we have for a traditional Bedding anyway when the deed was quite obviously done some months ago.”

Even Jon laughed at that, allowing himself and his wife to be pulled along to their chambers before shooing them all off, reminding them loudly that they still had their food and drink to return to.

“Finally!” he said as he closed the door and leant his back against it. “You have no idea how cross I am at Tyrion and Sansa for suggesting we remained apart these last few nights.”

Dany moved forwards then, her hand heading straight to the front of his trousers, stroking him through the material. “I can certainly tell how frustrated you are by that restriction, Jon.”

“And you?” he asked, leaning closer.

“I’m honestly not sure I have the patience to undress fully,” she replied, slipping her small clothes off from under her long skirt and awkwardly getting down on all fours. “Take me quickly, husband before I turn quite mad.”

Dany heard the exciting sound of rustling behind her before her skirt was being lifted up over her back and Jon’s hands gently rubbed the curves of her arse. “Hmm,” he said as one hand slid underneath the swell of her stomach to pleasure her. “I think this will probably be fairly quick.”

“Fine by me,” she gasped, already twitching from the attention she was getting from his well practised fingers. “Please, Jon … I’m desperate here.”

“Gods, Dany,” he said, quickly pushing into her from behind. “Little Spark isn’t putting you off at all, I see.”

“No,” she gasped. “Faster, please … harder!”

There was no further conversation after that. None that made any sense at least. Jon’s dual attack on her meant she finished almost immediately, her own climax quickly pushing her husband over the edge along with her. Afterwards they finally did manage to undress, collapsing naked into bed and wrapping themselves up in each other’s arms, gently kissing and caressing until they both fell asleep.

Daenerys was Drogon for a while then, flying over the castle and heading south in order to discover Ghost’s whereabouts, although Jon woke her up before she found the direwolf, his gentle exploration of her body quickly turning more urgent and eager until they were both ready to go again. She next awoke in daylight, Jon’s light touch on her face causing her to blink her eyes open, smiling at the sight of his handsome face so close to hers.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“Good morning,” he replied, his hand still caressing her cheek whilst he frowned and bit his lip, obviously nervous about something.

“Jon?” She reached out and stoked his beard gently. “What is it?”

He bit his lip again and it was a while before he managed to get the words out. “I love you, Dany.”

Her heart jolted unexpectedly on hearing the declaration. She knew it, of course, seeing how close they had become recently and just how often they were in each other’s heads but, after all the months of bickering and denial, it still seemed like a strange thing to admit to.

She leant forwards to kiss her husband gently on the lips, her heart full. “I love you too,” she replied.

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

by justwandering-neverlost

Jon

Jon strode across the Winterfell courtyard frustrated and glowering, barely aware of the half-bows and nervous glances thrown his way. He brushed off the light dusting of snow on his hair with a careless shrug, knowing it wouldn’t settle on the ground. Not now the weather was so much milder.

And that was what had pulled him from his bed this morning - news of urgent messages that had arrived with the dawn - and Daenerys had simply given him a gentle push and rolled back over, her way of telling her husband that it was his turn to get up and deal with it all. Now still half asleep, and having had no chance to relieve the usual early morning tension with his wife as planned, Jon was even more grouchy than usual. One of the few times he had been able to spend some precious time alone with her in recent months and then all of this had landed on his lap.

“Jon!”

At the sound of Dany’s voice, his frown instantly disappeared and he turned to see her striding towards him from the direction of the Great Keep. “Sorry,” he said, holding out his hands to her. “Those messages really messed up our plans, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but I was hoping to catch you before the meeting. We’ve got a little time yet, haven’t we?”

He looked at her suspiciously. “Time for what?”

She smiled slyly, taking his hand and walking him in the direction of the Broken Tower. “For old time’s sake?” she suggested pulling him through the door and towards the worn, stone, spiral staircase.

He gaped as her as he finally caught up. “Do we have time?”

“Do you really want to face the meeting all tense and stressed?” she asked, her free hand moving to caress the front of his trousers.

“No, but ...” Jon had no idea why he was trying to find excuses, especially seeing as he already had a firm hold of her hand and was leading her impatiently up the spiral stairs. “We haven’t got any furs up there.”

“We definitely don’t have time to get comfy,” she agreed. “But I’m sure you can think of something interesting. You always do.”

“We need to get this room set up again,” he decided once they had reached the top floor. “It’s getting harder and harder to find time alone with you lately.”

“Hmm,” she said, one palm on his chest, eagerly pushing him up against one wall whilst she quickly untied his trousers with the other. “Less talking, husband and let’s get you seen to.”

“Gods, Dany,” he gasped, both shocked and aroused by her enthusiasm as she slid his trousers down over his hips and caressed him with absolutely no hesitation. Then she untied the cloak from around her shoulders and threw it over his feet, dropping down to her knees so she could take him firmly into his mouth. He cried out again, his head hitting the stone wall.

“Careful, Jon,” she said as she released him briefly. “Don’t knock yourself out.”

“Seven Hells, woman … give me some warning, would you?”

“You knew what you were getting when you came up here, Jon.” Then she swallowed him again, hands roughly caressing between his legs before moving behind to massage his buttocks.

“Fine, fine … I’m ready,” he gasped soon after, pulling away from her and hauling her to her feet so he could push her up against the wall instead. “What about you?”

“Always,” she gasped, lifting her skirt up so that he could lower the trousers she was wearing underneath. “Hurry, they’ll be expecting us soon.”

Jon took his turn to kneel on the cloak then, lifting one leg over his shoulder and pressing his lips into her damp curls, inhaling the sweet scent of her. Oh, how he wished he had the time to really savour this treat but he needed to push her over the edge quickly, and so roughly worked her with both fingers and tongue, his free hand sliding up her bare hips and pressing against her flat stomach to hold her against the wall as he delved in deep. “Tell me when,” he mumbled, even though he was skirting her mind and checking for himself.

“Yes … now …” she gasped shortly afterwards. “I need you now!”

He hauled himself up into a crouch with a grunt, one hand still under her left thigh whilst the other moved towards her right. “Hold on tight,” he ordered, adjusting his feet slightly as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, before lifting her up and thrusting into her at almost the same time.

“Jon!” she shouted as she hooked her legs around his hips.

“Have you put on weight again?” he teased, desperately trying to distract himself so he didn’t finish too soon. They may be in a hurry but it was no good if he left Dany as frustrated as he had been all morning.

“No I have not,” she retorted, attempting to hit his shoulder despite her obvious distraction as he worked to hit all of her most sensitive spots. “You’re just not as fit as you once were. Not enough fighting or fucking recently to keep you in shape.”

“Ouch! Well, I deserved that. Gods, Dany, we really do need to do this more often.”

“Stop talking, Jon Targaryen and get on with it we … ah, we have a meeting to ...”

He smirked. “Yes, my love? What do we have to do?”

“Just there … please … Gods! So close.”

Jon used his Warg skills again, focusing on her mind in order to distract himself from the delightful pleasure now building up within him. They were both so nearly there. He pushed harder, wincing slightly at his wife’s groans, which he knew were partially due to discomfort from the uneven stone wall, although there was little chance of stopping now. Just a couple more thrusts …

They had become better at keeping quiet recently - a necessity really, given their current accommodations - but, this morning, both took full advantage of this more secluded environment and allowed themselves to cry out loudly at their release. Jon really had been very, very frustrated.

He most definitely wasn’t now.

Dany giggled and then winced as he gently lowered her to the floor. “Sorry,” he said. “Should have chosen a more even patch of stone to fuck you against.”

“I’ll have marks on my back, it’s true, but I’ll wear them with pride.” She smiled brightly. “That was fun.”

He grinned back. “It was, but we’d better hurry now.”

They quickly dressed, checking that the other didn’t look too messed up, before scurrying down the stairs and over to the brand new meeting room; a large ground floor chamber close to the Great Hall which had been converted especially. As they reached the door they slowed their pace, entering arm in arm and trying to appear calm and casual.

“Sorry we’re late,” Jon said as they entered the new Chamber of Seven.

“Are you?” Tyrion retorted, arching an eyebrow. “Are you really?” The remaining four members of the new council all tried and failed to muffle their laughs.

Jon just smiled slightly as he walked to one of seven tall, ornately carved wooden chairs placed in a circle around a dark, patterned slate floor and depicting the Seven Gods; Father, Mother, Warrior, Maiden, Smith, Crone and Stranger. The religions themselves may hold less sway in the realm nowadays but it was the idea of this council as much as the gods they represented that had persuaded Jon that this was the way to go and Daenerys had agreed, having initiated something similar when she was in Essos. No longer would a single person rule a land. No longer would Jon, as king, have the final say on the matters discussed here. Now he was just one voice; the Father, with the other six places taken up by high born advisors, members of the household staff and a low born elder to represent the interests of the small folk. The roles were not fixed, each place able to be filled by anyone who could fulfil its specific purpose, and even Dany, Sansa or Bran could take on the ‘king’ role here if Jon was not able to.

“So, today is an historic day,” he began. “The first time in countless centuries that a Council of Seven has met to officially announce the beginning of a new season.” His smile grew broader as he held up one of the the scrolls he’d picked up that morning. “After six long years, winter is finally, officially over!” Everyone around the table applauded. “And tonight there will be a large feast in the Great Hall to celebrate that fact.”

“Unfortunately,” Daenerys said, taking her cue from Jon. “This milder weather means that Cersei had begun to set her sights on the north again. The birds also brought news from both Oldtown and King’s Landing of the sudden reassignment of her troops and ships, along with further messages about the evils of the Targaryen Warg Queen.” She rolled her eyes. “No outward declarations of war just yet, but certainly enough for us to take a look at our own defences and armies and start making some decisions about how we intend to proceed.

“And so, will we just defend or should we plan for another attack?” the master at arms enquired.

“One of the decisions we all need to make today,” Jon said with a smile. “I know this new council will take some getting used to, but don’t forget that at least four of us have to agree before any major decision is made. First though, let us pass on the rest of the news we’ve received from the south so that you can make your decision fully informed.”

Although Jon didn’t particularly enjoy fighting, he was now considered an expert on planning strategy as well as actually battling with a sword in his hand. Sansa and Daenerys were exceptionally able at government and social plans whilst Tyrion and Varys were good at the type of political manoeuvring that the south was famous for. When he had first become king, Jon had been unable to hide his dislike for the idea of spies and the buying and selling of information as a commodity as valuable as gold and grain, but Sansa had soon persuaded him of the necessity of it then, and the advantage of this council was to ensure that there were many different types of players attending, all with their own abilities, who would help with the planning of the new defence or attack.

Once all the news had been shared, Jon put the question to the council officially, asking whether they should continue to shore up their defences to protect their independence, march south to intercept any troops Cersei might send, or plan some other attack as they had before in order to catch the south unawares. The result of the vote was to defend for now, although even the most cautious here agreed that this should be constantly reviewed depending on the news they received over the next few months.

Jon was quietly relieved at the result, although he suspected his wife would be less content. Either way, they had both agreed that there was a certain amount of comfort from such decisions being made democratically as it meant the pressure of responsibility could be taken off their shoulders somewhat. Then again, Daenerys had changed since their marriage - they both had - especially now they had other things to worry about.

Or, more specifically, a certain someone else to worry about.

They walked quickly back to their chambers - two small rooms attached to one larger one - heading to the smallest chamber where Missandei was currently sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the Targaryen princess attempting to braid her wild, silver-blonde hair.

The three year old looked up and gave an excited squeak, scrambling to her feet and smiling as she ran over to her parents, arms held up for a hug as she turned from one to the other, trying to decide who to cuddle first. Jon made the decision for her, scooping his daughter up and spinning her around before stopping in front of Dany and moving closer so she could hug the little girl from behind at the same time.

“Good morning, Lyaella,” Jon said, formally. “Did you sleep well?”

‘Yes, I had a good dream,’ she replied, as usual communicating telepathically as their Familiars did. She then smiled brightly at them, head tipping to one side. ‘You are both happy now.’

The pair exchanged a look over her head; part frustrated, part amused. It seemed their gifted daughter had picked up on something of this morning’s tower encounter.

“What have we said about not reading people, Ella?” Dany said. “Not even family.”

She shrugged. ‘Not a choice.’

Jon groaned at the phrase so often communicated by their Familiars. “What did you dream about last night?” he asked.

‘I flew over the dragon island again,’ she replied and he and Dany exchanged a knowing look at her declaration.

They had worked hard to keep their daughter away from their Familiars as a baby, hoping this might help them to control her quite obviously exceptional abilities but, recently, it had become clear that they were going to have to deal with the issue far sooner than they’d anticipated.

“Will you talk to us out loud today?” Jon asked.

She just shook her head, holding her arms out towards Dany. ‘Hug, Dae.’

Daenerys smiled and took her daughter from Jon, glancing over at Missandei as she did so.

“I am still not able to ‘hear’ her in the way you do,” her friend said, “but it is always easy enough to know what she wants. I’ve even tried talking to her in other languages and she always understands me then too.”

“That’s because she’s half reading you,” Jon explained, rolling his eyes. “We’re trying to teach her not to do that but I’m not sure she even has any control over it.”

“She is a very special girl,” Missandei said in response. “In more ways than one.” She bowed her head lightly, said something very formally to Lyaella who giggled, before leaving with another small bow. Jon looked at her wife, quizzically, not recognising the words.

“I’ve no idea,” Dany replied. “It’s not a language I’m familiar with.”

‘She told me I've been better behaved than my hair,’ their daughter replied, smiling brightly. Lyaella had inherited her mother’s hair colour but had Jon’s wild curls and, as Dany often said, her looks were all Targaryen, but she was most definitely her father’s daughter.

Why the three year old never spoke out loud was a mystery to everyone. She had no medical issues that any healer could determined and she was certainly not a slow child - quite the opposite in fact - already writing and drawing as well as those twice her age. However, the fact that she only ever communicated telepathically meant that few could fully understand her and the child had little patience for those who couldn’t. She happily accepted the company of Missandei, Tyrion, Arya and Bran, probably due to their strong Rider abilities, and appeared to tolerate Sansa, Grey Worm and Davos due to their relationships with her favourites but, if left in the company of anyone else, the little girl would become exceptionally difficult and only her parents and Bran were able to communicate with her fully, due to their Warg abilities.

It was seeming more and more likely that their daughter was as able as his brother had predicted and nothing they’d seen so far seemed to disprove his thought on her being the Warg Monarch. Jon had to admit to being terrified at the responsibility of raising such a child and had insisted on regular meetings between those who took some part in caring for her, making certain that they were doing everything possible to ensure her needs were being fully catered for.

~o~0~o~

Daenerys teased Jon for being so obviously excited that morning as he waited impatiently for his old friend to arrive at their east gate. Only the royal couple were here to greet the man as he rode in, hoping this visitor’s arrival would go unnoticed, although Ghost padding in just behind him probably wouldn’t help with that. Their guest looked uncomfortable on his stocky horse, wincing as he clumsily dismounted, and Dany raised an eyebrow at her husband who subtly shook his head, warning her to be serious. Like him, his wife was a kind-hearted, open minded person and he knew it wouldn’t take long for her to look past his friend’s size and apparently bumbling nature and see the man for what he truly was.

“Sam! It is so good to see you after all this time.” Jon strode forwards, throwing his arms around his friend just as soon as his feet had touched the ground, and patting him boldly on the shoulder.

“Likewise,” Sam grunted, “although I’d forgotten just how strong you are. Go easy on me, Jon, I’m sore all over right now.”

“A long ride, to be sure,” he replied, smirking. “Perhaps you should have bonded with a horse?”

He chuckled. “And what use would such a Familiar have been to you?”

“True enough. Well, we have a number of introductions to make.” He smiled. “Come and meet my wife.”

Sam looked behind Jon and his eyes widened, his nerves obvious. “You never did do things by half, did you?”

“Apparently I was never destined for the quiet life. Don’t look so nervous, Sam, you know better than anyone that most of those stories you’ve heard about the queen aren’t true.”

“It’s the ‘most’ part that worries me,” he retorted, but was smiling now as he walked over to Daenerys and bowed. “Your Grace.”

She laughed lightly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Samwell. Your queen and king thank you for your invaluable service.” She grinned cheekily at the two men and Jon rolled his eyes.

“That is her unsubtle way of telling me off for not acting the part,” he explained to his friend.

“Oh … yes, I forget too, I’m afraid,” Sam admitted. “As much as your husband inspires devotion, Your Grace, he was my friend long before he was a king.”

“Jon is correct when he says I’m teasing you,” Dany said. “We are not a formal court here. Come, Sam, we’ll entertain you in our private chambers for now and there you can rest, eat and tell us all your news.”

As their guest settled and enthusiastically began to eat and drink the refreshments he was offered, Missandei came in with their daughter so she could be introduced in a quiet, relaxed environment. Sam took one look at the small, petite child and his face relaxed into a beautiful smile.

“Well now, isn’t she adorable?” he declared.

“Sam this is our daughter Lyaella,” Jon said, smiling proudly. “Lyaella, this is my very good friend Samwell Tarly.”

The girl looked at him quizzically, head tipped, before taking a step forwards and holding out one hand, palm upwards.

“You will excuse the princess’ lack of words,” Jon said, “but most of her communication is telepathic.”

“Really? How fascinating.”

He shrugged. “She’s actually asking if she can meet your Familiar.”

Sam looked stunned. “How does she know?”

Dany laughed. “Oh, don’t ask us. She’s rather unique, this one.”

“Well, she’s used to staying hidden, of course,” Sam said. “Seeing that no-one is supposed to know I have re-bonded but, seeing we’re all friends here?” He glanced over at Missandei briefly before turning to Jon, who nodded to reassure him that she could be trusted. Then he opened up his coat, delved into an inside pocket and brought out a large, brown rat.

Missandei took a small step backwards and Dany raised an eyebrow, but Lyaella had no such qualms, stepping even closer and looking up first at Sam and then at the rat.

Sam shook his head. “Did she just ask if she could hold her?”

Jon nodded. “You heard that?”

“More … sensed it, as I do with this one.” He turned to Lyaella. “Hold both hands out flat and she’ll hop on if she wants to. Otherwise it’s best not to force the issue.”

The little girl nodded, doing as instructed, and the rat jumped on instantly, standing up on her hind legs to get a better look at Lyaella, whiskers twitching furiously.

“Impressive,” Sam said. “I’d be interested to see if she takes to your mother or father in the same way.”

Lyaella grinned and nodded enthusiastically, instantly knowing to return to the rat to Sam rather than offer it directly to her parents. His Familiar seemed happy enough to accept a gentle stroke from Jon and Dany - although nothing more that that - but showed absolutely no interest in Missandei.

“Wargs seem to get special privileges from most Familiars I have noticed,” the dark girl noted, showing no concern about the rejection. “My mynah is much the same with them and is also quite fascinated by the princess.”

“A mynah bird?” Sam said. “Really? I haven’t seen one but hear they are even better at talking than the ravens?”

She nodded. “They are very useful messengers in that regard and I can introduce you to her later, if you wish.”

“Oh yes, thank you,” Sam replied.

Missandei smiled politely at his enthusiasm. “Shall I take Lyaella for her nap now, Your Graces? You’ll want her to attend the start of tonight’s feast, I assume?”

Jon nodded. “We’ll give it a go, aye. See how she copes with it all.”

The princess’ reaction to that suggestion was instant, shaking her head, folding her arms and stamping her foot hard on the floor. ‘No!’ The glare she turned on him then was pure Daenerys and Jon had to struggle not to laugh at it. ‘No nap!’

“Lyaella,” he warned, holding her stern gaze. “You have been so good today. Don’t spoilt it.”

She pulled a face, her glare only softening when Jon held his hands out to her, encouraging her to come forwards to accept his kiss. With a deep sigh she then turned to her mother before waving at Sam and even managing a small smile when he waved back.

“You have been given the Lyaella seal of approval,” Daenerys told him once Missandei had left the room with the princess. “Consider yourself a member of a very select group.”

“Oh?”

“That makes … seven?” Jon suggested.

“Seven?” Dany replied. “Interesting.”

“Oh, have you started your council?” Sam asked.

“Yes, and we were hoping you might sit in on the next meeting,” Jon said, “although we’ll want to talk to you before that with just Sansa, Tyrion and Varys present.”

He nodded, wide-eyed. “An honour.”

“So, Sam,” Daenerys said. “Tell me how you came into my husband’s service. I’d be interested to hear your side of things as Jon, as you know, is so annoyingly self-effacing.”

He smiled, nodding and taking another sip of his drink before beginning his story.

“My family is very much of the south and has aligned itself firmly with Queen Cersei,” he began. “I had odd dreams as a child and very much wanted to be a Rider but my father has never approved of the skill and, unimpressed with me as his heir, sent me to the Wall to serve with the Night’s Watch. A year later, a small group of us got separated during a ranging north and came across Jon and his uncle on their way to treat with the Wildlings. We let them pass - breaking the rules really - but the pair were … very persuasive.” He grinned. “Soon we were communicating via our Rider friend Edd with Jon passing on useful information about the Night King and Wildling’s attacks to us, whilst we sent back information that might be of use to him.”

“Why?” Dany asked.

Sam shrugged. “It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time and, well, to cut a long story short, it wasn’t long before Jon became our official spy.”

She raised an eyebrow at her husband. “I thought you were supposed to have been the Wildings’ champion?”

“I was but … I suppose I was playing double spy myself. Or perhaps peacemaker would be a better description. After all, whilst the Free Folk and Night’s Watch were fighting amongst themselves, the real threat was going unnoticed. I was always determined to get everyone south and warn the realm of the real threat.”

Sam nodded. “Shortly before the Battle for the Dawn, I finally, belatedly, got my wish. Maester Aemon sending me south to Oldtown to get the medical knowledge I would need to replace him at the Wall.”

“Aemon?” Daenerys asked.

“A relation of yours, I believe?”

“Yes, although we never met, unfortunately.”

Sam nodded. “Anyway, during our dealings north of the Wall, Jon and I had developed this special written code - as I wasn’t a Rider back then - and that allowed me to keep him informed of what was happening in the south without alerting any of Cersei’s people who may have intercepted the letters. Not that anyone would ever believe me to be a spy; not given my family relations and my guise as a useless lump.”

“Sam!” Jon scolded.

He shrugged. “My father’s words, but you know many at the Wall believed it too.”

“Aye, although it serves them all right for underestimating you.”

“True.” He looked back over to the queen and continued with his story. “At the Citadel I kept my head down and studied hard. Older than most there I quickly bonded with an old cat and soon found him to be a useful source of extra information. When he died I feared I might become a Sleeper but, fortunately, it had the opposite effect, giving me the freedom to learn how to Ride birds and hop in and out of several animals.”

“Several?” Dany asked.

“Yes, well, I’m not officially classed as a Warg but am a pretty able Rider and that ability allowed me to continue to keep a low profile. When I bonded with a rat I was surprised, to say the least – as they’re not common Familiars, despite their intelligence - but I soon realised the advantage of such a match and kept my bonding a secret from all the tutors. By then the Battle of the Dawn was over, Jon was named King in the North and I suddenly had the ability to send my Familiar into all the most important meetings in Oldtown without anyone suspecting.”

“And we’ve stayed in touch ever since,” Jon added.

“My training has just recently finished,” Sam said then, “and I persuaded my family that coming up here to contact old friends would be useful to Cersei.” He shrugged. “I’ll talk with Lord Tyrion and Varys and see what they suggest, but I’m sure I can send back information to them that will seem to be of importance.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Double spy? Triple spy?”

“Who knows,” Sam said with a laugh turning back to address Daenerys. “I gave up thinking about it too much years ago but, Jon is my friend, and I have only his interests at heart so … I am his spy whatever anyone else thinks. And yours now too, I suppose.”

Dany shook her head. “I have my own in fact so, no, keep your loyalty to my husband. It’ll make things easier for you and I promise I won’t get jealous.” She grinned broadly to show she was joking.

“We should let you rest before the first of our meetings,” Jon said, “but there was other information I asked you to bring up that I would rather not share there?”

Sam nodded, delving into his coat pockets again to bring out a large roll of papers. “This is all the evidence I was able to find. Obviously there was a limit to how much I could share with you before, even given our code, but I’d say it’s all pretty definite. Lyanna Stark did fall pregnant whilst studying at the Citadel and her brother Eddard did visit to ‘take her home for personal reasons’, although I think we can safely assume that that didn’t happen. The dates of her death and of Lord Eddard claiming you as his own add up, as we’ve already discovered, Jon, but this … this is the final piece of the puzzle we didn’t have until now.”

He rummaged through the sheets before handing one tightly wrapped scroll to Jon who opened it with shaking hands. “A marriage?” He looked up at Sam and Dany in shock. “I’m not a bastard?”

Sam shook his head. “You’re not.”

“Who?” his wife asked.

“Rhaegar,” he replied. “Your cousin?”

“Yes, and the last dragon Rider before me.”

“So, you knew your father was a Targaryen?” Sam asked Jon.

“I suspected it. Our Familiars hinted at it. They said I was ‘sired by a dragon’ and, as Dany and I discovered, there were only two males it could have realistically been. The only shock here is that they married before I was born.” He shook his head. “Famous for being Ned Stark’s bastard and … I am neither.”

“Has anyone questioned your daughter’s looks?” Sam asked then.

“A few,” Jon admitted, “but most are just assuming that Daenerys’ Varyrian blood has come out strongly in her.”

“The Riders should know better, of course,” Sam said. “Assuming they were paying attention during their medical lessons. But there is no need for further speculation. You are half-Valyrian, Jon and Lyaella is three-quarters.” He tipped his head. “And a potential Rider?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, “and she’s having dreams already.”

“Already? How old is she?

“Three.”

“Impressive. Has she found a Familiar yet?”

“It appears so,” Jon said, “although we’ve been trying to keep them apart for as long as we’re able.”

“Yes,” Daenerys said with a sigh. “It looks as if I’m no longer the only living dragon Rider.”

“That’s great ...” Sam looked at their concerned expressions and frowned, confused. “Isn’t it?”

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Daenerys

Despite now having their Council of Seven, Jon and Daenerys would often arrange other meetings if required, especially in regards to the spying news - both their own and what Cersei was gleaning from her own whispers. Now that Sam had arrived, it made sense for them to invite him along to the next one of these, just to make sure that everyone was kept fully up to date.

“On Sansa’s advice, I have continued the idea of keeping Jon’s true role and abilities hidden,” Varys told them. “It served the north well before and his status as Bastard of Winterfell means that there are many, including Cersei, who would automatically dismiss him anyway.

Dany worked hard to not look at her husband at that, Jon having asked her and Sam to keep the information about his parents to themselves until he decided what he wanted to do with the news.

“And the reason for that?” Jon asked. “Is it still simply to mislead?”

“That is part of it, yes,” Varys replied, “but also because it is better for us if Cersei’s attention is focused elsewhere. She already thinks it was Arya who battled Euron during the Oldtown battle and that the only reason Daenerys did not marry Bran was because he would not be able to give her children. She believes you to be the queen’s last resort which leads her to underestimate you and that could be useful to us in the future.”

“I’m assuming that Cersei does know about Lyaella now?” Daenerys asked.

“She does but … she’s misunderstood that a little too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it appears that the news has reached her that the princess is ... unusual and so she has assumed that it means …” Varys winced. “Excuse me … that her mind is soft in some way.”

Dany glowered on hearing this whilst, next to her, her husband quietly scoffed.

“But that’s good,” Tyrion insisted. “We want her to dismiss Lyaella in the same way as she has Jon. If Bran is right and the princess is to be the Warg Monarch then, well, the prophecy talks of her ‘overthrowing the old order and ruling the whole of Westeros’ and I can assure you that my sister will do anything in her power to stop that from happening. Whilst she believes it to be you, Daenerys, she will at least remain cautious because of your dragons. She knows you are not an easy target and that keeps your daughter safe, and the fact that she continues to dismiss Jon is helping in all sorts of unexpected ways, especially considering ...” He paused, wincing

“Considering?” Jon pushed, glowering at the dwarf. “Tell us what you’ve heard, Tryion.”

“Cersei has been asking for news of Lyaella and of any other children you might have. That she believes the princess to be sickly and that you have not ... yet been blessed with another, helps to confirm her thought that your union is both unhappy and unfruitful."

Dany felt her insides clench at this. She actually had mixed feelings about the fact she had not fallen pregnant again. In many ways it was good for her to be able to deal with all the defence preparations without such a distraction, but she did want another - at least one more - and she worried that perhaps the healers in Essos had been partially correct and that it was only fate - or some such nonsense - that had gifted them Lyaella, simply to fulfil the prophecy.

“It is far too early to worry about such things,” Jon replied quietly. “And, considering our daughter’s unique gifts, I think it's actually good that we’re able to spend so much time with her without a baby dividing our focus and attention.”

“That is very true,” Daenerys said brightly, suddenly determined to lighten the mood. “Although having more heirs would certainly be in the realm’s interest and so Jon and I promise to continue practising just as often as we can.”

Unfortunately, Sam had chosen that moment to take a sip of his drink and spluttered in shock whilst Tryion chuckled and Varys rolled his eyes. Jon glared at his wife for the comment, although his lips were twitching, all the same.

“And Sam has come to us from the Citadel with a huge amount of useful information,” he said, leaning over to pat his friend on the back as he continued to cough. “His family assume he’s spying for them, of course, so we were hoping you could feed him some information? Something true but unimportant perhaps, as well as some actual misinformation?”

Varys nodded and smiled. “Nothing easier.”

“And did you manage to find out more about Cersei’s mystery Wargs?” Tyrion asked their visitor.

“I did,” Sam replied. “I gather you already know about Qyburn and his history with the Citadel? His abilities are not exceptional, possibly because of how early he was forced to leave, but he is totally faithful to Cersei. The last one is more interesting and ...” Sam frowned. “We did wonder what had happened to our head tutor at the Citadel. One day Ebrose was teaching as normal and the next he had ‘taken leave’, which just seemed so out of character for someone who lived and breathed his work and had no living kin to return to.”

“You believe he has been pressed into Cersei’s service?” Varys asked.

Sam nodded. “That was the impression I got, yes.”

“And all three survived our attack?” Dany asked.

“Yes,” Sam confirmed. “After all, over-Riding is very rarely fatal, not unless there is some other factor involved.”

“Such as pregnancy?” Jon asked, glancing briefly at Dany.

“I wasn’t unable to find any definite confirmation,” Sam admitted with a small frown. “But all available evidence points to added risks for both mother and child, yes.”

So, it seemed Rhaegal had been right to worry about Lyaella’s safety during the King’s Landing battle.

“More importantly, do we know if Cersei has any more Wargs on her side?” Jon asked.

“Not that we are aware of,” Varys replied. “Wargs are exceptionally rare, as you know. We understand she is still searching though. Last we heard she’d sent Euron over to Essos to see if he could find any on that continent and persuade them to come back over.”

“Euron is the one we really need to worry about,” Jon told them. “He was exceptionally powerful. The other two, not so much. The only reason they were able to affect Daenerys at all was because they were working together.”

“Yes, but that’s why it’s vital that we keep an eye on them,” Tryion said. “The council may have voted to defend for now but experience tells us that Cersei will not just sit meekly by and let us live and govern in peace. She would not have done so anyway but now she is genuinely fearful of this prophecy as well as being quite convinced that it can be broken.”

“Can it?” Jon said. “Is it not set in stone?”

“Fate? Destiny?” Varys said, shaking his head. “That some seer once said it would happen and nothing can push us off that path?” He sighed. “I would say not and, although we might wish this one to be true and that Princess Lyaella will one day overthrow Cersei, there are a great many other prophecies in existence that we should be very grateful have failed.”

“However,” Tryion said, “despite what I said earlier, I admit that I’m not at all happy about having Cersei so convinced that Daenerys is the Warg Monarch. I know my sister and I know how single-minded she is. Having spent all these years working to keep the queen safe, I worry about how we can continue to do so once my sister has set her mind on destroying her.”

“I have the dragons, my armies and Jon to protect me,” Daenerys replied, “plus Bran’s unique abilities and all of you to advise me. As you said earlier, Tyrion, it’s far better that Cersei focuses her attention on me rather than Lyaella.”

“But we do need to check on these military rumours,” Jon said. “Which means it probably is time for us to fly south and see for ourselves.”

“Is that safe?” Tyrion asked. “Having the dragons fly over the enemy?”

“They’ve been doing so anyway,” Dany said. “I’ve had the pair of them head off to various, random places recently, both so that they can relay some information to me and also to mislead Cersei into thinking I’m down there. We’ll stay high when flying over the south itself, of course, but Jon and I mostly need to oversee the strengthening of our defences at The Neck, and being able to get there quickly by dragon will be very helpful in that regard.”

“Where is your dragon?” Varys asked. “I haven’t seen him recently.”

“They’ve both been on Dragonstone,” she replied, “although I’ve just called Drogon back and, fortunately, he always allows Jon to ride on him with me.”

“But your other one doesn’t?”

She and Jon exchanged a look. “No, he’s not a bonded animal and so ...” She shrugged, unwilling to explain their thoughts about that. “Rhaegal will probably join us anyway, as he is always happy for any chance to fly.”

~o~0~o~

With Lyaella often finding her way into their bed and already highly empathic, Jon and Dany were struggling to find time to be alone together. The recent conversation about heirs had highlighted one reason why they needed to remedy that, whilst their own morning session in the Broken Tower had reminded them of just what they had been missing. So, whilst Jon headed off to set up their old tower room as a more isolated sanctuary for them, Daenerys consulted with Missandei about the princess’ sleep routine and how she and her husband could schedule some nights together without their daughter interrupting.

They also had a number of plans they wanted to make as a family and would need to decide how to fit those in around the bigger plans for the north’s defence. Tonight was an excuse for them to discuss these things, as well as spend some personal time together without being disturbed by either their daughter or their advisors.

“Hopefully we can fly down to Dragonstone with Ella after Jon and I have completed our scouting,” Daenerys told Missandei.

“Why not encourage your green to come up here?” she suggested. “You know Lord Tyrion will question the need for you to travel there if it is not of vital military importance.”

“There are a number of reasons why that won’t work,” Dany replied, “but we really do need to ensure Dragonstone’s defences remain in place too.” She sighed. “It won’t be easy, whatever we decide, but that’s the price we pay now that we hold the north, the neck and one tiny island in the south.”

“I understand,” Missandei said. “Hopefully all these whispers will continue to play in our favour.”

Lyaella got bored of her current game then, approaching the two ladies with her arms held high, and Daenerys immediately crouched down to give the little girl the hug she was silently asking for. “But you’ll take Ella this evening?”

“Of course,” Missandei replied with a small smile. “I know the two of you have … a great deal to catch up on.”

Lyaella looked up suddenly, her gaze flitting between the two ladies curiously. ‘Why can’t I play games with you and Jae?’ she asked.

Dany winced, having forgotten that her daughter could easily pick up her emotions nowadays. “Because sometimes your father and I need to spend some time alone with each other,” she replied promptly, knowing full well that it was futile to attempt to keep anything from her.

The little girl frowned before nodded very seriously. ‘All right, but it’s not time for me to have a baby brother yet.’

“Your Grace?” Missandei asked, seeing the look of total shock on her queen’s face. “What is it?”

Daenerys shook her head. “Proof that Jon and I really need to have this talk,” she replied before turning back to Lyaella. “Now, off you go and be a good girl for Missandei.”

‘I’m always a good girl,’ she replied, slipping a hand in the advisor’s and for once heading off without making a fuss, whilst Dany rolled her eyes at the inaccuracy of her daughter’s words. 

~o~0~o~

“Here,” Jon said with a smile and a wide sweep of his arm. “Our own private meeting room.”

“Hmm,” Dany said, surveying the dusty room at the top of the Broken Tower. “No table or chairs, I see?”

“You expect me to carry furniture up all those ancient stairs?”

She smiled sweetly at him. “You did want to get fit, didn’t you?”

“I seem to remember that you were the one who said that and, anyway, I have far more interesting ways in mind to exercise.”

“Oh, do tell.”

He smirked. “Later. First though, we have everything we actually need for this meeting. Look, somewhere to sit ...” He pointed to the large pile of furs he’d brought up, “… a map. Food and wine.”

“That’s good,” Dany said, completely ignoring the items as she walked over to her husband, draped her arms around his neck and kissed him gently on the lips. “Do I need to change for this meeting?”

Jon smiled as he kissed her back, one hand on her cheek whilst the other gently skirted down her arm. “Depends on whether you want to start with the serious stuff straight away. If you do then it’s probably best we don’t remove any layers or neither of us are going to be able to concentrate.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to concentrate anyway,” she declared running her hands through his curls and rubbing herself up against him. “I think we perhaps need to switch the itinerary around.” And she released him abruptly, took one step back and slowly began to untie her dress. “So, let me get comfortable.”

“At least it’s not as cold up here as it was when we first started to do this,” Jon replied, starting to strip off his own clothes as he moved towards the furs.

“Yes, that is good news,” she replied, briefly struggling with one of the fastenings on her dress. “Bring all of that a little closer so we don’t have to move, Jon. I think that, afterwards, we should stay here to talk.”

“After what?” he asked slyly, removing his trousers very slowly whilst making no attempt to turn around or cover himself. Dany paused in the act of removing her under-shift, suddenly highly distracted by the sight of her now naked husband. “I seem to remember you making some comment about my needing to get fitter,” he said, pointedly.

“I did?” she asked, still staring. “I’m not sure I can see anything to complain about right now. Although I do believe it was you who accused me of putting on weight.” She let her slip slowly fall off her shoulders.

“I also made a mistake,” he said as he took his turn to admire her nakedness.

“You most certainly did,” she replied. “In fact, I think you need to apologise for being so rude to your wife.”

“You’re quite right,” Jon said, licking his lips. “Why don’t you lie down on those furs and let me get on with that.”

She laughed brightly, lying on top of the makeshift bed, opening her legs wide and inviting Jon to crawl between then, which he did with no further prompting, his hands sliding up the insides of her thighs whilst his lips quickly followed, and Dany was certain he was deliberately tilting his head to allow his beard to brush against the sensitive skin there. Then he moved higher still, his tongue flicking out as his lips continued to explore, and she lost all desire to tease him further, content to let him get on with the act of pleasuring her in his favourite way.

He was being far too gentle, Dany decided, squirming on the furs as the kissed and licked and then paused, stroking her gently with his fingers before moving his head away slightly to kiss her thighs. “Please, Jon. Please don’t stop … I need to finish.”

“What’s the rush?” he asked, looking up at her coyly through his dark lashes, his eyes showing his desire, despite his voice sounding annoyingly calm. “I thought the whole point of this evening was for us to be able to spend time together and I really want to take my time with you.”

He teased her again, touching her most sensitive spot but so, so very gently that she nearly screamed with frustration. She started to move then, determined to take control, but Jon was having none of it, a firm hand on her stomach holding her still.

“I hate you,” she grumbled.

“Aw, really?” he teased, moving his lips closer again whilst his dark gaze held hers. “Are you quite certain you want me to finish you already?”

“Gods, yes,” she gasped. “Please. It’s not as if you won’t be doing so again tonight.”

“Oh, will I?”

“Several times, I hope,” she gasped as he dived back down. “Yes, there … just like that ...”

Once down from her high, Dany opened her eyes to find Jon lying next to her, smirking in that self-satisfied way he had. “Your turn,” he whispered, his voice low and tempting. “How do you want me, my love?”

She bit her lip, wondering what would be the best way to tease him, before inspiration struck. “On your back,” she ordered, quickly kneeling up.

“Uh-oh, I know that look. Should I be worried?”

Daenerys just laughed as she quickly straddled his hips but, rather than enveloping him inside of her, she instead rubbed herself slowly up against him. Still highly sensitive after what he’d just done to her, she was quickly able to find her pleasure again, whilst Jon threw his head back against the furs, groaning in frustration. He moved his hand between their bodies a couple of times - either wanting to position himself to enter her or to pleasure her himself - but she slapped him away each time, willing to forgo having him inside her just to get her own back. Soon she was shuddering again, kissing him hard as she found a second release in a very short space of time.

“Enjoying yourself, are you?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, smirking. “Do you think it’s time for our meeting yet?”

He growled, flipping her over onto her back. “Not quite yet,” he declared, entering her in one hard thrust and then stilling over her, watching her closely with a smirk of his own. “I can be gentle if you’re still a bit too sensitive?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she gasped. “Take me hard and I’ll race you. Last one to finish has to deal with the next set of early morning scrolls.”

~o~0~o~

Drogon appeared over Winterfell the next day, flying lazy circles over the castle and quite obviously enjoying the attention his dramatic arrival was causing. The dragon’s appearance here was the king and queen’s cue to fly south to scout, and they spent much of the day talking to their troops at The Neck and surveying their defences, before travelling even further south to confirm the reports of various armies moving northwards towards their position. The next few days were then taken up with more flights between Winterfell, Cailin, Pyke and their own armies, making sure their planned defences would be ready for the inevitable attack on them. Finally, exhausted, the couple returned to Winterfell, knowing they only had a matter of days before their lives would once again be taken up entirely by military matters.

The following morning saw them leaving Winterfell even earlier, this time with Lyaella in tow, hoping not to attract attention by heading to the Wolfswood from the North Gate in order to formally introduce their daughter to Ghost and Drogon. They had done this before when she was a baby but had then decided to keep her apart from most Familiars, hoping it might help her to have a ‘normal’ childhood. However, events and comments from her recently had proven that that was no longer going to be an option and, with the imminent conflict making future family time a lot less certain, the royal couple had decided to deal with the matter once and for all.

Ghost was the first to greet the little family, acting more like a pet dog than a direwolf, his excitement perfectly visible to Dany, whilst Jon laughed at his Familiar’s reaction.

“Silly wolf. I’m not sure if he’s more excited to meet her or cross with me for keeping her away for so long. Slowly, Ghost, she’s only little.”

‘I’m not afraid,’ Lyaella said, holding her hand up high up towards his large head. ‘He won’t hurt me.’

“Not intentionally,” Jon agreed, “although he might just knock you off your feet with his tail the way he’s going about it.”

‘Very special pup,’ Ghost declared. ‘Although … mostly dragon.’

Jon laughed at the direwolf’s confusion as he relayed the comment to Daenerys.

“Missandei did say that all the Familiars seem to recognise her,” she said.

“Well, if Bran’s correct about her, then I suppose that makes sense.”

“Well, young Ella,” Dany said. “I suppose if you are mostly dragon, then it’s time to meet a real one.”

‘Drogon and I have been talking already,’ she declared as she looked up in awe at the dragon. ‘He really is very big.’

“What do you think, Drogon?”

‘Small dragon. Big power.’

“So will you fly all three of us to Dragonstone?”

To her surprise, her Familiar seemed reluctant. ‘Brother wants to fly her.’

“I’m sure he does,” she replied, “but there’s no time to wait for him, I’m afraid. We’re on a tight time schedule here.”

‘Yes, but little dragon must not Ride my mind. Brother upset.’

Dany looked at her daughter who was now frowning. “Do you understand?” she asked.

Lyaella nodded. “I’ll try not to.’

“What’s the problem?” Jon asked her.

“I think Rhaegal is jealous that Ella gets to fly with Drogon first and not him?”

“Huh,” her husband huffed in reply. “Well, let’s get her up on his back and then we can fly down to Dragonstone so she can meet him properly.”

~o~0~o~

Their daughter didn’t seem the least bit scared of being so high up; her expression and reaction strangely passive considering, with just a small smile on her face throughout most the journey south. However, that quickly changed as they approached the island and Lyaella finally saw the other dragon on the cliff top waiting for them.

‘Down, down!’ she urged, suddenly acting like the typical, excitable three year old she really was, whilst Daenerys reminded her not to force her own wishes into Drogon’s mind.

Jon dismounted first so he could help ease Ella down and attempt to hold and calm her until Dany reached the ground, both parents constantly reminding their daughter just how dangerous this was and how she needed to be very careful. Rhaegal then edged forward, obeying their instructions to go slowly, even though his eyes were shining with an excitement that matched the little girl’s.

‘Finally,’ he seemed to say as he moved his muzzle close to the child and Dany felt tears sting her eyes as she sensed the Rider bond click firmly into place. She glanced up at Jon who appeared equally effected as he obviously recalled his own experience, swallowing hard and nodding as their daughter reached out one hand to gently touch her new Familiar’s giant muzzle.

“Rhae-gal,” she said.

“What?” Daenerys turned to Lyaella, shocked on hearing the first true words her daughter had ever uttered out loud.

‘’My dragon has another name,” she continued silently, “but … I don’t understand it yet.’

Which made sense, of course. A Familiar’s true name was only ever revealed to their Rider and was often a concept or emotion which would probably be too difficult for a three year old to grasp. After all, Daenerys had been seven when she’d bonded with Drogon and that had been considered exceptionally young at the time.

‘Fly?’ Rheagal asked then.

“No,” Dany replied firmly. “She is far too young to go up there on her own.” She paused, looking at the green dragon intently. “Unless you would be willing for me or Jon to fly with her?”

There was a very long pause. ‘Will consider,’ he replied before both dragons suddenly took to the wing on their own, leaving Lyaella holding both arms up towards them, looking both bereft and awed.

‘Fly … fly,’ she said, her lower lip starting to quiver.

“Come,” Jon said, moving quickly forwards in the hope of staving off a tantrum, “You’ll be hungry after that. I certainly am. Let’s find our chambers and settle in.” And they walked their daughter back to the castle, each holding one of her hands and swinging her between them as they went, keen to distract her from all thoughts of Rhaegal for the time being.

This was to be a short holiday for the little family and they couldn’t relax entirely anyway - not so close to enemy territory – with the two parents taking it in turns to spend time with their daughter whilst the other worked. Jon would go down to visit the soldiers and guards assigned here, check the island’s defences and also collect and send messages, whilst Daenerys continued to fly Drogon west to check on the Lannister’s troop movements. The couple would then meet back up in the castle in the evenings, spending time with Ella before her bedtime and then a precious hour or two with each other before it was time to sleep.

~o~0~o~

“How is she?” Daenerys asked as Jon got back into bed on the morning of their last day on Dragonstone, shivering at the feel of her husband’s cool skin next to hers as he snuggled up against her back.

“She got back to sleep eventually,” he replied sleepily, “but that seemed to be an especially bad nightmare.”

“The curse of the Rider,” Dany said with a sigh. “Especially us Wargs. Now she’s connected to Rhaegal I imagine that they will happen even more frequently.”

“Aye.” He yawned and wriggled a little closer. “I’m going to try to sleep for a bit now, love, but I think you need to get up?”

“Yes,” she replied. “One last scout before we return north this afternoon.”

Jon’s reply was little more than a grunt, already half asleep, and she smiled, twisting in his arms to kiss him gently on the lips before getting out of bed and starting to dress for her ride.

Rhaegal decided to join them this morning and she pushed the pair quickly west, determined to get this scouting over and done with so she could return to her family and the safety of Winterfell. Unfortunately, the sight of a large fleet of enemy ships heading north from Oldtown meant a sudden change of plan and so, with a few choice curse words, Daenerys urged Drogon northwards along the west coast towards the Iron Islands, determined to warn Yara and discuss this new sea bound threat with their ally and her captains.

However, she had only just flown over The Crag when a terrifying shriek from Rhaegal had her reeling from the force of his emotions, reminding her of that horrific day six years ago when Viserion had fallen from the sky beyond the Wall. She turned her gaze first to the dragon and then to the ground, convinced that he must have been hit by some weapon, despite the very great height they were currently flying at.

‘Brother not hit,” Drogon explained. “Brother upset and angry.’

“What happened?”

‘Not certain. Too upset.’

Another shriek and Rhaegal was suddenly flying back south-east. “What’s going on?” Dany pushed.

‘Not certain. Will follow.’ And, before she had even confirmed it, Drogon had turned in pursuit of his brother. ‘Wolf message,’ he said soon afterwards.

Dany started to panic now. “Ghost? What does he say?”

‘Too far. Mate angry too.’

“Dragonstone! Something’s happening at Dragonstone. Drogon?”

She felt it then, a sudden mental jolt as her dragon finally connected with the other two Familars and she received the full, emotional burst of pure fury, fear and heartache from them and from her husband. Drogon flew even faster then, slowly gaining ground on the small, green fleck in the distance.

‘Little dragon is taken,’ her Familiar said, confirming her worse fears.

“Lyaella!” Daenerys cried. “What do you mean, ‘taken’?”

‘Stolen. Gone from island.’ Drogon snarled, his own anger now very obvious. ‘Mate needs us.’

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Jon

Jon was reliving the Battle for the Dawn again although, this time, his dream kept shifting between that great northern ice war and the more recent sea battle near Oldtown - the enemy in front of him constantly changing from the Night King to Euron to the kraken itself.

His wife was flying high above on a dragon but he was quite unable to tell which one it was. Viserion falling to earth with a deathly scream? Rhaegal tossing his passenger off because she wasn’t his Rider? Or Drogon breathing fire whilst Daenerys yelled at Euron for daring to hurt her husband.

And Ghost was by his side as always only, at times, Jon felt that the wolf was something else too. Someone else. As Euron looked down at the shifting white shape next to him, the man’s gleeful grin made Jon suddenly terrified, turning to follow his gaze and finding Lyaella by his side instead – small, scared and vulnerable. The little girl took one look at Euron - now mutated into a huge kraken, looming over her with tentacles writhing - and screamed.

~o~0~o~

Jon woke up with a shout of his own, Ella’s cries still ringing in his ears, to find his wife sitting up in bed next to him and breathing heavily.

“Lyaella,” she gasped and he realised that their daughter really was screaming, having apparently just woken up from a nightmare of her own.

“I’ll go,” Jon said, trying to get his head back into reality as he grabbed a shirt and headed into the small adjoining room, moving towards the small bed and enfolding the little girl in a hug.

‘Monster,’ she told him as she sobbed against his arm. ‘Horrible monster hurting Jae and Dae.’

He sighed. “I know, Ella, but it was just a nightmare.” Jon looked up to find Dany them from the door and nodded at her. “I’ve got her, Love. You should go back to sleep. You need to be up early tomorrow.”

Daenerys came over to briefly kiss their daughter on the head and add her own reassurances before ruffling Jon’s hair and heading back to bed. He continued to hold Lyaella for a while, attempting to comfort her by explaining that she was a true Warg like her parents, and that being officially bonded to Rhaegal would mean a lot of strange dreams and nightmares from now on.

“I wish I could make them go away,” he said as he rocked her, “but they are a part of who we are and, in time, you’ll find it easier to understand that they’re not real.”

‘Felt real.’

He sighed. “I know.”

She also seemed to have tuned into his dream somehow, something Jon was sure had never happened with him and Dany. Was that because Lyaella was part wolf? Or was it because she had an exceptionally strong contact with all Familiars and, like Bran, was somehow accessing more than one of their consciousnesses?

Ella did not want to go back to sleep straight away, nor did she want Jon to leave and so he lay awkwardly on his daughter’s small bed, propped up on the pillows and hugging the little girl against him as she sobbed and pretty much repeated his own nightmare back to him. When she finally managed to fall asleep it was close to dawn and Jon slowly, carefully, untangled himself from her and tip-toed back to his own bed, only able to snuggle up to his wife briefly before she had to get up to go out on patrol in the west. Then he was dropped straight back into the same nightmare as before, Lyaella now sitting aside Ghost as if he were a pony, richly dressed in Targaryen colours and armed with a small, Bravosi sword.

“Stick ‘em with the pointy end!” she shouted.

“That’s my girl,” Jon said proudly, lifting Longclaw and charging towards Euron with a battle cry of his own.

This would all be so much easier if everything would stay still but, typically, the dream kept shifting: The Night King, Euron, Cersei ... and then Jon was in the middle of a full battle, jostled this way and that, cutting through enemies left and right with his pale-haired companions battling on beside him.

Then, abruptly, he turned to discover he was on his own.

“Ghost?” he called out. “Lyaella?”

“Jae!” his daughter shouted.

And then his direwolf was there, standing up on his hind legs, front paws on Jon’s shoulders and licking his face with a large, wet tongue.

‘Wake up,’ his Familiar told him. ‘Danger!’

Jon rolled out of bed before he’d fully awoken, diving for Longclaw and thrusting it upwards so quickly that his shadowy assailant had no chance to register what was happening, pure instinct guiding the Valyrian steel point straight into the heart. Jon stood shakily and looked down at the dead man now lying next to his bed for just long enough to take note of his small, slim body and recognise him for what he was; an assassin sent here especially to kill him.

“Ella!” he yelled, dashing towards his daughter’s room, only to find the entrance barred by a large, growling dog with its hackles raised. A Familiar. If their northern intelligence had done its job, then no-one on the other side understood that Jon was a Warg too and so, with a growl of his own, he easily pushed his mind into the dog’s and shoved the Rider out. Too bad if his status was revealed in the process. He had more important things to worry about right now.

Jon ran next door to find Lyaella’s bed empty and let out a long, shaky breath as he tried to control his raging emotions; both his relief that he was not having to face his daughter’s dead body along with the very real terror of what had actually happened to her.

“Ghost?” He reached out desperately, even though he knew his Familiar was currently prowling the northern Wolfswood and far too far away to be of much help.

‘Dragon pup lives.’

Jon drew in a shuddering breath, having no idea how Ghost could possibly know that from such a great distance.

“Where is she?” He was already running, Longclaw still drawn, his mind searching for other Familiars that might be blocking his path.

‘Dragons returning. Mate returning. Green angry.’

“He’s angry?” Jon’s own fury was only being held in check by his fear for Lyaella but his pursuit was being interrupted at every turn; another dog, then a cat and, once outside, numerous seagulls and cormorants dive-bombing him in unison and making it hard for him to focus on which one to aim at. By the time he’d disabled them all and made it to the beach it was too late, the familiar kraken sails now far beyond what he could easily reach with body or mind, and neither dragon here to fly off in pursuit of it.

‘Dragons returning,’ Ghost repeated, even though Jon had not actually asked anything of his Familiar and, with one last, frustrated growl, he stomped back towards the castle, only now aware of the numerous dead bodies of the guards and servants who had been assigned to the island. Those who had been asleep out in the barracks came running towards him now, along with a few survivors; Dothraki cutting their braids, Unsullied mumbling in Valyrian at him - apologising for letting him down he assumed - but he just waved them all away, not in the mood to either punish nor reassure them.

“Jon.”

That was Daenerys. He winced as he headed back outside to wait for her and the dragons to return. The sooner they arrived the sooner they could go after Lyaella but he had to admit that he was not looking forward to facing his wife right now, already sensing her emotions and knowing full well that his anger was nothing compared to hers.

~o~0~o~

Drogon landed on the cliff top in front of Jon before charging towards him, teeth bared, and it took all of Jon’s nerve to stand his ground in the face of such fury. As Daenerys quickly dismounted and strode towards him, Jon wondered wryly which of the two dragons he should now be more afraid of, wincing as his wife continued forwards, grabbing at his shoulders and shaking him hard.

“Jon!”

“I’m so sorry, Dany … I was fast asleep and-”

“-What happened?” she urged, still shaking.

“Euron, I think. A small crew of soldiers, assassins and Riders sneaked onto the island at dawn and slaughtered half the castle.”

She gasped and then shook her head. “Lyaella?”

“Alive and unharmed according to Ghost, via the dragons.”

“Unharmed!” she spat before looking more closely at her husband and noticing the blood. “And you?”

“Woke up to find an assassin hovering over me. Was lucky to survive that.”

The anger briefly melted from her face replaced by sudden concern. “Oh, Jon ...”

He shook his head. “I have Ghost to thank for that warning but … they have her, Dany. What do we do now?”

“We go after her, of course.”

He frowned. “Which is probably why they kidnapped her.”

“Of course it is. Cersei thinks I’m the Warg Monarch and so needed to find a way to get my attention.” She glowered. “Now she has it.”

“So it’s a trap.”

“You think I bloody care?”

He shook his head. “No, but … we need to have a plan of our own before we go flying over there.”

“We have two dragons,” she said, her voice terrifyingly quiet. “That is all the plan we need.”

“Dany ...”

“We will take back what is ours with Fire and Blood, Jon. The Targaryen way.”

The Stark part of him had thought they should be more cautious - or perhaps he had just been channelling Tyrion - but now his own Targaryen fire came to the fore and he nodded, the memory of his small, beautiful daughter nuzzled against his chest early that morning bringing sudden tears to his eyes.

“Aye,” he agreed. “With fire and blood.” He turned to Drogon and pushed his thoughts out to him. Just the general idea of a question but the dragon understood.

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Both fly.’

“Perhaps Rhaegal might take you?” Dany suggested.

‘No,’ Drogon replied. ‘Brother too angry.’ And Jon was already climbing anyway, his wife following him before clambered in front and urging Drogon up into the air.

“Ghost is heading back towards Winterfell,” Jon shouted in her ear. “Hopefully, once he’s closer, Bran will be able to understand something of what has happened from him.” Dany said nothing in response, her thoughts chaotic and her knuckles white as she gripped Drogon’s scales even tighter.

They saw no sign of the ship as they made their way south-west, confused as to how such a vessel could have travelled so quickly, and initially wondering if Euron had perhaps travelled in a different direction in order to throw them off.

“There,” Dany said eventually. “They’re on land now.”

“How did they get there already?” Jon asked.

‘Kraken close by,’ Drogon said then, although Jon couldn’t work out if it was in response to his question or a warning.

That was partially answered as they headed towards the ground and Jon suddenly became aware of a strong push on his mind and of Dany’s gasp from in front of him. “Land!” she barked.

“Will you let me in?” Jon asked Drogon as the dragon roared in frustration at being attacked by Wargs yet again.

‘Yes.’

So Jon went into the dragon’s mind first, working to defend and push out the attackers, whilst Dany focused on landing them all safely. Then she was there beside him, inside Drogon’s head, and Jon felt like he was back in his dream again, pale hair by his side as he fought the enemies who appeared from the shadows and then disappeared just as quickly.

“Fight, you cowards!” he yelled, even though he fully understood the reason for their unorthodox attack. The two Targaryens working together would be far stronger than these particular Wargs - the last battle had proven that - but now, with things obviously going on out in the real world too, their job was simply to keep Jon and Dany grounded and distracted and, so far, that seemed to be exactly what was happening.

“Perhaps I can fight them in here on my own,” Daenerys suggested, flexing her fingers as ribbons of fire crackled from them. “And then you can go out and attack them in the real world?”

Jon shook his head. “We don’t know enough about what’s happening out there yet and I really don’t want to risk you or Drogon.”

“We can’t stay here indefinitely,” she complained. “We have to rescue Ella.”

He nodded “Can’t really sense her while we’re in here either, not unless ...” He reached out his mind, wincing at the effort. “Ghost?”

‘Too far.’

Had the enemy worked out what he was by now? If his ability had been underestimated then it was possible that they could successfully defend themselves out there, but that assumed they would be given the chance to do so. There was the horse … and then he was gone. The dog, the kraken ... and then they were out. Each offering just enough force to keep Drogon off-balance and grounded but always disappearing before Jon or Dany could latch onto them and attack.

~o~0~o~

When the mental pushes finally ceased it took the king and queen a while to persuade Drogon to lift off and continue his flight towards the Red Keep. He was not as badly effected as the last time, fortunately, but still, if the situation hadn’t been quite so urgent, Jon was sure the dragon would have tipped them both off his back and flown away to sulk. When they did finally reach the Capital, they circled the castle a few times to get their bearings whilst, high above them, Rheagal continued to shriek and roll.

“I’ve never known him to act like this before,” Dany said as she looked up at the smaller dragon. “I can’t reach him and neither can Drogon really.” She then looked down at the castle and the numerous soldiers and weapons now trained on them. “Land there, Drogon. I assume that they’re expecting us and won’t attack us once we do.”

‘Scare them?’ the dragon asked, hopefully.

“Better not,” Jon replied as they came in to land. “Don’t want one of those things fired at you just because you made some raw recruit nervous.”

As the couple dismounted they found themselves quickly surrounded by soldiers, pikes pointing at them whilst numerous, nervous eyes shifted towards Drogon. Two elderly men were now walking forwards, one with eyes downcast, the other with an annoying bright smile plastered across his face.

“Welcome to King’s Landing, my lord and my lady. Queen Cersei invites you to join her in her throne room.”

“Your Graces,” Dany corrected, her soft tone not quite hiding her steely anger. “You are addressing the king and queen in the north, my lord …?”

“My name is Qyburn and this is Ebrose,” the smiling man replied. “We have met before … after a fashion. And, Queen Cersei does not recognise the independence claim of the north, you see, and so I’m afraid such courtesies would be inaccurate in this case.”

These men were the other two Wargs, Jon realised, studying the quieter man especially carefully. If what Sam had said was true then perhaps …

“If you would be so kind as to send your two dragons away, my lady?” Qyburn continued. “And hand over your weapons too, please. I’m sure you understand. We would hate any action you or they may take to cause panic within King’s Landing and perhaps do harm to our very special guest.”

“If you have hurt her,” Jon growled as he reluctantly unbuckled his belt and handed Longclaw over, taking careful note of the soldier who took it from him.

Qyburn looked surprised. “Of course not. Who would harm such a small, defenceless little thing? The child is our guest, as I said and, if you’ll follow me, I promise I will take you directly to her.”

He smiled at them again before looking pointedly at Drogon, and Dany’s lip curled slightly before she nodded and sent a silent message to Drogon.

“Try to persuade Rhaegal to fly out of sight too. Make yourself visible to their soldiers some way north of here and then return high and stay hidden in the clouds.”

As they were escorted across the packed courtyard, many of the bystanders jeered at the pair, causing Jon to wonder what lies Cersei had spread about the pretender king and queen in the north. He pulled a face at the thought - the anger grumbling away at him again - whilst, next to him, Dany lightly brushed his left hand, a tacit sign of understanding and reassurance. Right now they had no plan. No way of knowing how they could attack or rescue their daughter until they fully understood the threat they were facing.

Qyburn moved forward to take a firm hold of Daenerys’ left arm whilst Ebrose did the same to Jon’s right and he felt the slight, nervous flutter of the man’s mind against his, his physical touch allowing the weaker Warg rather more control than he would have ordinarily. They were scared of them, he realised - of Dany more likely - and that suited Jon just fine, even though there was no way he was going to try anything until he knew for certain that Lyaella was safe.

~o~0~o~

The throne room of King’s Landing was a place of grand beauty and perhaps, under other circumstances, Jon would have been able to fully enjoy the spectacle. Now though he could only focus on one thing. The terrifying sight of the stern, blonde queen dressed all in black, standing on the dais by the Iron Throne with one arm around Lyaella’s shoulders and the other hand holding a knife to the little girl’s throat. On his left, Dany give a strangled sob whilst Jon glared daggers at the woman, his right fist clenching by his side and his gaze falling briefly on the man still holding Longclaw, who was standing close to Qyburn on his wife’s left side. Without fully realising it, Jon was taking note of everyone here, silently, instinctively mapping out distance and position.

“Welcome to King’s Landing,” Cersei said as they were persuaded to walk just a little bit closer to the dais. “It seems that my other messages inviting you here failed to arrive so … I’m afraid I needed to try a different method of persuasion.”

The pair said nothing in reply, neither of them trusting what might come out of their mouths, both continuing to scan with their eyes and their minds to gain as much information as possible, whilst also remaining in faint contact with their Familiars.

“Although, I seem to remember those scrolls being addressed to the Warg Monarch only,” the southern queen continued. “I’m not sure I invited her pet northern bastard along.” This time it was Jon’s turn to brush a reassuring finger against Dany’s hand as she bristled at the insult on his behalf. Cersei then turned her attention to the smirking man standing on the dais beside her. “Why is he still alive, Euron?”

“Apologies, my queen,” the man replied, although he didn’t look especially sorry. “I believe I mistook the Warg I battled near Oldtown for this one’s half-sister.”

“Really? That was him?”

Jon saw the briefest uncertainty cross Cersei’s features as her gaze travelled to her other two Wargs and felt Ebrose grip his arm a little more firmly, fighting back a smirk at the sudden realisation. The southern queen had assumed she had three Wargs against one and now realised that the odds were considerably less favourable.

“Are you all right, Lyaella?” Daenerys asked out loud.

The little girl nodded very slightly, the knife not so close to her throat that she was unable to do so. ‘Fish man took me. Dragon cross.’

“Such a pretty little Targaryen,” Cersei crooned. “But quite unable to speak, I understand. So sad.” She looked back at Jon. “Not much of your blood in her then?”

He smirked. “You might be surprised.”

“So, what now?” Dany asked, having finally lost patience with the other queen’s pleasantries.

“Now I put an end to this ridiculous prophecy once and for all,” Cersei replied, nodding at a pair of heavily armoured knights who immediately started to head towards the couple. “And then, after that, I shall ...” She frowned, stopping mid sentence and looking down at them in shock. “No! Get out of my head, dragon bitch.  Even you can’t have that sort of power.” She turned towards Euron, the panic quite clearly showing on her face. “Get her out!” She pushed the knife a little closer to Lyaella’s throat. “I’m warning you, one false move ...”

Daenerys held her hands up, suddenly fearful. “I swear, I’m not doing a thing.” She turned to Jon who shook his head urgently, his own hands also raised to prove his innocence whilst he desperately tried to work out what was happening.

“Let me go!” Cersei suddenly shouted, her voice now a lot higher in pitch as the knife in her hand again relaxed away from Lyaella’s neck. She frowned as she said it, looking just as confused as everyone else in the Hall. “No … I mean … let them go.”

A strange, nervous hush fell across the Hall as everyone stared at the queen in disbelief. Although not entirely sure what was happening yet, Jon took the opportunity to re-evaluate everyone’s position and again skirt Ebrose’s mind, sensing the man’s nervous reluctance and pushing a little, encouraging his fear and doubt.

Cersei had lowered her hand now, whilst Euron had turned towards her, concerned - his gaze quickly moving from her to Jon and Dany - and then Cersei’s confusion changed to a sudden anger as she grabbed the Warg’s arm, the knife now held against his neck, and Jon risked a glance at his daughter to see the same pure fury raging in the little girl’s eyes.

“I said … Let them GO!” the southern queen squealed, petulantly stomping a foot at exactly the same time as Lyaella.

Jon gasped as he recognised his daughter’s usual reaction to not getting her own way and suddenly, belatedly understood what was going on.

Lyaella had somehow managed to warg Cersei.

The ‘queen’s’ order had made Ebrose relax his grip on Jon’s arm and mind, and he now turned to look at the old man who simply nodded, taking a small step away, hands raised in silent submission. Qyburn was not so keen to release Daenerys but she had also worked our what was happening and turned towards the man, smirking, and Jon watched him gasp and then freeze as his wife pushed the whole force of her will towards him and briefly rendered him immobile. Now, with all the opposing Wargs subdued, Jon was finally able to act, rushing up the steps of the dais and scooping Lyaella into his arms before anyone could attempt to stop him.

“I’ll just be taking this with me, if you don’t mind,” he quipped before heading back down, and Ella instantly threw her arms around his neck, face buried into his shoulder whilst she sobbed uncontrollable. She seemed totally lost to her tears, her thoughts chaotic, and yet Cersei still held the knife to Euron’s throat, her eyes continuing to blaze with what was quite obviously his daughter’s fury.

The captive Warg was glowering too, his own gaze taking in the scene, and Jon saw the moment the man made his decision, throwing himself backwards onto the floor to evade the queen’s knife before jumping agilely back up to disarm her. It was a risky move - to assume Cersei wasn’t in her right mind and be willing to accept the consequences - but Jon was already one step ahead of him, running towards Dany so he could thrust their sobbing daughter into her waiting arms.

As soon as he had let Ella go, Jon spun backward towards the soldier holding Longclaw, lifting his left elbow high to connect with the man’s jaw and then, during the same rotation, he retrieved his sword with his right hand and knocked Qyburn out with its pommel. He completed this single, impressive spin by halting in front of his family with his blade raised high ready to meet Euron who was now screaming towards their position with a sword of his own. Had this been any common foot soldier Jon would have felled him instantly, but Euron was as much of a match for him in the real world as he’d been during their Warg battle and the two men were soon engaged in a furious sword fight, whilst Jon desperately tried to back his little group out of the Hall.

“We really don’t have time for this!” Dany yelled at him.

Jon did not feel himself to be an especially prideful man but part of him couldn’t help but feel a little upset that his wife sounded more frustrated than impressed by his display. He then sensed her powerful mind flung towards Euron, causing the Warg to stagger briefly, and reluctantly took advantage of his opponent’s distraction by executing yet another of his trademark spins and plunging Longclaw straight through the man's heart.

“I said you had to let them go! I order you!” Cersei was back on her feet, still adamantly insisting her prisoners were free to leave and Jon placed a boot on Euron’s chest in order to yank out his sword before raising the blood-stained blade and moving to escort his little party outside, ready to attack any who might decide to disobey their queen’s commands.

Their queen. Their Warg Queen.

He shook his head, not yet willing to dwell on what his daughter may or may not have done back there and having no real idea of how long they had until they were pursued.

“This way,” Ebrose said urging them out into the courtyard.

“Thank you,” Jon replied.

The man shrugged. “I know true royalty when I see it.” A number of guards hurried over from the outside of the throne room. “It’s fine,” Ebrose called out loudly as they approached. “The queen said they were free to go.”

“We need to get out into the open,” Dany said, adjusting Lyaella in her arms as she looked skywards and Jon nodded, getting the hint and heading them all towards the courtyard they had landed upon, Longclaw still raised, pushing his own mind upwards until he also sensed Drogon, far above their heads but now descending rapidly. Another group of soldiers came forwards then, this bunch not willing to accept Ebrose’s reassurances, but Jon had little trouble dispatching such soft, southern guards, especially seeing as his wife seemed more than happy to use her forbidden Warg skills to distract and dissuade any who felt inclined to cause mischief.

“Very impressive,” Ebrose muttered appreciatively as he watched and sensed the pair work.

Then, finally, Drogon came roaring out of the clouds, causing the few remaining soldiers to quickly disperse. The enormous dragon landed right on top of the escaping group, his massive legs thudding down on either side of their bodies and causing Ebrose to drop into a ball on the ground with a yelp. Jon was able to remain standing, moving forward slightly with Longclaw held out, as Dany persuaded Lyaella to climb Drogon before scrambling up after her. Jon called out his thanks to the still cowering Ebrose, his lips twitching with amusement at the sight, before quickly making his own way up via the dragon’s wing and settling down behind his family.

Drogon took off the moment he had wrapped his arms around both girls, trying to physically cover and protect them from any stray arrows which might come their way, and then they were free, flying rapidly upwards and away from King’s Landing. Jon let out a sigh of relief, his head dropping briefly forward onto Ella’s silver curls.

And then Rhaegal was there, screaming past them in the opposite direction; so close that Drogon had to roll slightly in order to avoid him.

“Where in the Seven Hells is he going?” Jon yelled at his wife.

“I've no idea. Ella?”

But the little girl was still crying and Jon could get no coherent thoughts from her, other than her very real fear that the horrible cat lady was going to kill her parents and leave her all alone.

“We’re fine. We’re safe,” he reassured her. “All thanks to you.”

Suddenly Drogon banked sharply and turned around too, headed back down towards King’s Landing, and Jon could feel the confusion from both the larger dragon and Daenerys.

“What is it? Where are you going?” his wife shouted at her Familiar. “Drogon, we have to get away from here.”

‘Brother angry.’

“Yes, but we need to leave.”

‘Brother really angry!’

And they emerged back through the clouds just in time to see Rhaegal hovering over the Red Keep, fire erupting from his jaws, as the part of the castle that housed the throne room exploded dramatically, flames and debris flung high into the air.

“We shall take back what is ours with fire and blood,” Dany said, but her voice held no hint of vengeance now, only total and utter shock.

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Daenerys

“What do we do now?” Jon asked.

Daenerys had no idea how long they had hovered over King’s Landing, staring in disbelief at the sight below them; Rhaegal continuing to flame at the throne room until they finally managed to persuade Lyaella to calm him. There were two conflicting responses she was debating right now; her maternal instinct telling her to fly their daughter just as far away from all of this as possible, whilst her leadership instinct urged her to return to the capital to deal with the mess that had just been created.

“We have to go back,” she decided with a sigh.

“What about Ella?”

“I really want to take her home but there is so much we need to do … so much we need to work out.”

“One of us to stay with her, one of us to …?” Jon paused, realising, as she had, just how complicated this was going to be with a sobbing three year old to take care of.

“I think we only have Drogon as reliable transport at the moment,” Dany continued as she instructed her dragon to return and land in the same courtyard they had so recently left. “And only me who is able to fly him solo.”

He sighed. “Aye.”

They landed and surveyed the scene below them from Drogon’s back; Ebrose and many of the guards they had just fought either milling around the courtyard or staring in disbelief at the furiously burning throne room. Dany heard Jon give another loud sigh against her back before making his way down the dragon’s wing, and she marvelled at how well they both understood each other now – how they had already come to an agreement after sharing no more than a few dozen words.

“Jae!” Lyaella shouted out in fear then, causing Jon to pause, surprised at hearing only her second ever verbal communication.

“I’ll be fine, Ella,” he called back. “There’s nothing in there that I can’t deal with now.”

Despite her misgivings, Daenerys knew this to be true. She had not had time to fully process what had happened in the throne room earlier, but seeing Jon in all his fighting glory had been a sight to behold and, despite the urgency of the situation and her very great fear for her daughter’s safety, Dany had to admit that she had never before felt as impressed or turned on as during that one moment when he had managed to attack three opponents in a single move, never-mind the way he had fought Euron immediately after. Later on, when things had calmed down, she fully intended to reward him for such skill.

Her husband had now reached the ground and drawn Longclaw again, Ebrose scrambling to stand by his side whilst those soldiers who had survived the blast stood nervously in front of them, swords and pikes shaking as they held them out.

“I have returned to help,” Jon shouted. “Despite all that has been done to my family in the name of the southern throne. Will you yield to House Targaryen now and allow us to bring peace and prosperity back to your city?”

Drogon roared his approval of Jon’s words and there was a sudden clattering of weapons as the men all quickly made their choice. Then there was another cry as Rhaegal landed heavily next to Jon, his eyes still flashing but his mind, thankfully, considerably calmer.

‘Stay with Jae,’ Lyaella told her Familiar. ‘Look after him and the nice horse man.’

Dany laughed lightly. “That should work.”

Jon looked up at the green with a frown, as if making certain he was now under control, before nodding firmly and turning to his wife.

“Keep in touch!” she shouted and he nodded again, placing a hand on Ebrose’s shoulder and moving forward to talk to the soldiers, whilst Rhaegal lowered his muzzle towards them; quietly threatening. “Are you sure you have him under control?” she asked her daughter.

Lyaella nodded, her frown - so very like Jon’s - indicating she was still focusing on her dragon. ‘Trust Jae,’ she told her Familiar. ‘Do as he says.’

“Right,” Dany said. “Nothing else for it, I suppose.” And with one last, lingering look at her husband, now striding confidently towards the still burning castle, she urged Drogon upwards, trying to get her mind to focus on what needed to be done.

It mattered not whether Cersei had died in that fire, Jon was now down there claiming King’s Landing for the Targaryen family and she had no doubt that he would be successful. It certainly wasn’t the way she had originally planned to take the capital but she would be a fool not to grab the advantage that had now presented itself.

‘Bad cat lady is dead,’ Lyaella informed her. ‘Rhaegal killed her and Jae killed the fish man.’

“Yes,” Dany replied, “and you and I need to have a long talk about what happened down there.”

‘My nightmare came true. They took me away and said they’d kill you and Jae.’ Dany felt her daughter shake against her. ‘She was going to tell her soldiers to kill you when you arrived so I had to stop her.’

Dany shook her head, only now fully understanding the fear Jon had shown when he had first suspected what their child would become. “How did you stop her?”

‘I know you said reading people is bad. I know you said getting them to do what you want is bad. I’m sorry but … I couldn’t let her kill you.’ Ella gasped. ‘Does that mean I’m bad too?’

Dany felt tears sting her eyes. “Oh, my dear girl, of course it doesn’t. You were just protecting the ones you love. It’s just that you are still so very young and that means we will need to keep talking about your abilities and how best to use them.”

‘You’re not cross with me?’

“I’m not cross. Just a bit … confused by everything.”

‘Me too.’

Dany sighed, deciding she might as well continue whilst her daughter was willing to listen and they were simply flying north with little else to do. “What you did with Cersei. Taking over her mind and making her let us go? That was a good thing, mostly, in that it caused no real harm but, what you had Rhaegal do afterwards? That I’m not so sure about.”

‘I didn’t make him. He … sort of did it on his own …. I think?’

“What do you mean?”

‘I don’t know. I was upset and very cross with the cat lady and he …. he was angry because I was upset and he wanted to help.’

Dany nodded. “I think I understand. Sometimes our Familiars can take our thoughts a little too literally. It will be your job, with our help, to explain to him the difference between what you’re thinking and what you actually want."

‘I don’t understand.’

“You have a powerful weapon at your command. The next time you get angry when someone tells you it’s bedtime, you will no longer be able to say, ‘I wish you were dead’, unless you know for certain that Rhaegal understands you don’t mean it.”

‘Oh …’

“In the case of Cersei you had good reason for what you did and things may turn out better because of it but, had you been older, if you’d had a chance to think calmly, we may have been able to find another way to deal with her.” There was no immediate response. “Do you understand?”

She was a bright girl but she was still very young and these sorts of issues were tricky enough for Dany to come to terms with, so she had no idea if she was making any sense to the child.

‘I think so.’

“When we are all back home together we shall talk about it some more. We will talk with you and Rheagal and then, afterwards, Drogon and Ghost will help to make sure that he understands too. Your dragon is older than you, understands how bonds work and, honestly, should have known better.”

‘He was only trying to help.’

“I know. I’m not really cross with him either, Ella. I’m just trying to make sure nothing like this happens again.”

‘Land?’ Drogon asked then.

“What? Oh ...” Dany had been so engrossed in the conversation, she had lost all track of time and position and only now looked down to note they were already at The Neck, the familiar sight of the northern defences coming into view. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Drogon.”

If the commander was surprised to see the queen arrive here at this time with her daughter, he certainly didn’t show it, although his usual stern countenance did crack a little as she relayed something of what had happened in King’s Landing.

“So, I’m sure you’ll hear from my husband via Rider-birds very soon,” she continued. “But your orders for now are to start moving south and inform any you encounter of what has happened.”

“Inform?” the man asked with a raised eyebrow.

Daenerys’ lips twitched. “Strongly suggest that they swear fealty; to House Targaryen or to House Stark or both - it makes no difference now. If they won’t do so willingly then you have my permission to … force the issue.”

The man bowed. “I understand.”

“Good. I really would love stay but I have to get this one back home.” She grinned. “It’s way past her bedtime.”

~o~0~o~

There was so much more Dany wanted to do. She wanted to fly west and help Yara deal with the fleet that had been sent after her. She wanted to visit all the major southern castles in person to explain - with Drogon’s help - exactly what the situation was now. However, as much as she was now (probably) the queen of the whole of Westeros, she was also a mother and, despite what had happened today, urgently needed to get Lyaella home and tucked safely up in bed.

She was partially reassured when she received a message from Jon via Drogon.

‘Mate says all is well there and birds fly to friends with news.’

“Good. Tell him our soldiers here are moving south.”

‘Yes.’ Drogon’s response implied he had already done so. ‘Said you and little dragon talk.’

“You are a very clever boy,” she told him.

He gave a low rumble, more of a purr than a growl. ‘Yes. Good dragon.’

Lyaella giggled. ‘Drogon was good. Brother was naughty.’

‘Yes, but good now,’ her Familiar said.

“I’m very glad to hear it,” Dany replied. “Rhaegal’s main job is to keep Jon safe. As long as he does that then all will be forgiven.”

As they continued to fly north, Daenerys received a few more updates from Drogon and she also asked her Familiar if he would be able to pass on a message to Bran via Ghost.

‘Possible,’ he replied, sounding a little sceptical. ‘Wolf hard to hear without mate close.’

“I see. Jon needs to be involved?”

‘Yes, and strong emotions make hearing easier.’

“That makes sense.” It certainly helped explain how they all seemed to communicate better during emergencies.

‘Hungry now.’

She shook her head at Drogon’s unexpected comment. “You’re hungry?”

‘Yes. Hunt?’

“We’ve not got much time but I think you better had, yes. We’ve a lot more flying ahead of us.” She paused, considering. “Land us at the Hunter’s Gate then – the one by the trees.’

‘Yes.’ They had already started descending. ‘Wolf there.’

“Ghost is?”

Dany dismounted quickly and Drogon then worked hard to arrange his wings and legs so that Lyaella could get down too. Once the little girl was safely in her mother’s arms, the dragon flew off, to be replaced almost immediately by Ghost who came bounding out of the trees towards them.

It was the first time Dany had ever faced the direwolf as a human without Jon close by and the realisation made her extra cautious, kneeling down next to Lyaella and extending a hand to him. Ghost approached from her side first, sniffing her thoroughly before resting his muzzle on her shoulder and pushing a large, wet nose into her hair, and she tried not to giggle at the thought of how much the move reminded her of her husband.

‘Ghost is asking about Jae,’ her daughter said.

“He’s worried about him, I’m sure.”

The little girl shook her head, messy silver curls bouncing as she held out a hand, and the direwolf came over to her immediately, happily accepting her fuss. ‘No, not worried. He just misses him.’

“Of course he does. Sorry, Ghost. I know you would have preferred Jon up here to me but there’s a lot going on now.”

‘I’ve tried to explain but ...’ Ella sighed and then yawned widely.

“Do you know if Uncle Bran understands what’s going on?” Dany asked her.

‘Ghost says he knows a bit.’

“Good. That should make things easier.”

She walked with her daughter toward the Hunter’s Gate whilst the Direwolf, as was his custom, headed back into the woods, and they had only just entered the castle when Sansa, Varys and Tyrion came rushing towards them, all asking questions at once.

“Yes, I know I have a lot of explaining to do,” she said, holding up a hand. “And I will tell you everything, I promise, but first I need to get Lyaella to Missandei. She’s had a very stressful day.”

Dany wished she had time to put them off further, to ask for a bath and a meal and an hour or so to sleep, but there was simply no time for such luxuries and all she could do was make her way up to their chambers and give a brief explanation to Missandei as she handed Ella over to her care. That done, the young queen turned around and headed straight back out, trying not to get tearful on seeing her large bed and dreading the prospect of trying to sleep there later without Jon by her side.

~o~0~o~

Once Daenerys had briefly told her story to Bran, Tyrion, Varys and Sansa, the latter ordered her to her chambers to rest while an emergency Council of Seven meeting was organised for later that evening. Sansa was correct, of course, Dany mused as she closed her eyes on the bed in their Winterfell chambers. Despite the fact they had had to think on their feet down there, and that Jon would be currently enacting the old system of being a ruling southern monarch, a different system of government was in place up here and such major decisions needed to be confirmed and agreed on by everyone. Daenerys started to think of the possible scenarios then - of how the north and south might work together - but the conversations they had initiated here almost four years ago could not possibly have taken recent events into consideration and Dany realised that the whole thing was going to be far more complicated than she had originally anticipated.

“Drogon?” she asked, pushing her mind out towards her Familiar.

‘Sleepy.’

“And full?”

‘Yes.’

“How’s Jon?”

‘Cross.’

She pulled herself awake, suddenly worried. “Why?”

‘All safe but … Mate wants to be here, not there.’

She relaxed and smiled as she felt sleep tug at her again. “I wish he were here and not there too.”

~o~0~o~

Fortunately the Council understood that there was little choice in the matter that had been thrust upon them and realised that they now needed to act quickly. Daenerys would therefore sleep here tonight before heading back to King’s Landing on Drogon first thing the following morning, currently the only person in the whole realm capable of travelling at speed between their various armies and allies to relay vital messages. Lyaella would remain up here with Missandei and Bran who, along with Ghost, could best tend to her physical, emotional and Rider needs, whilst Sansa would continue to take on the ‘Father’ role within Winterfell during their absence and had a number of people here to assist her in governing the north.

Dany really would have liked both Varys and Tyrion to travel to King’s Landing with her, but Drogon unexpectedly messed up her plans by informing her that he would only accept ‘the little cat’ on his back.

“Why?” Dany asked, even though she had already guessed the answer, automatically mouthing, ‘No choice’ at exactly the same time as her Familiar. There was a long pause.

‘Why ask?’ Drogon wondered and Dany shook her head fondly as she went to break the news to her advisors.

“I’m honoured, of course,” Tyrion said, as he strolled out of the Hunter’s Gate alongside Dany early the following morning. “But do you have any idea of his logic? After all, both Varys and I are Riders of similar strength and have been in your company for about the same amount of time.”

“I’m not sure,” she replied, “but there’s obviously something else going on there because Lyaella accepts you with more ease than Varys too. Perhaps when she’s older she can explain. Or we could ask Bran?”

“We could,” Tryion said, wide-eyed as Drogon came closer to them and lowered his muzzle slowly and curiously. “But right now we have other work to do.”

“Will you accept Tyrion on your back?” she asked her Familiar. He had already agreed, of course, but it did no harm to be certain, something she knew Jon did constantly now, understanding that giving permission once did not mean it was given in perpetuity.

‘Yes. Little cat is needed.’

There were a few places Dany wanted to visit on their way down to King’s Landing but the most urgent of these was Pyke. She had seen the ships heading up towards the islands the previous day and had guessed - hoped - that they would not be a threat until she was able to return there this morning. Fortunately it appeared her calculations were correct and, as they flew over Ironman’s Bay, she noted with some satisfaction that her allies had still not quite engaged the enemy.

“Hold on,” she warned Tyrion before directing Drogon downwards towards the lead enemy ship.

“What! I’m really not sure … Daeneryyys!”

The rest of Tyrion’s complaint was taken by the wind as they dived downwards and she had Drogon take out just one ship before returning back up into the clouds. Then she let them ponder on that and flew towards Yara’s fleet, hovering over the lead ship.

“Any Riders you can talk to, Drogon?’

A long pause. ‘Perhaps one.’

“Tell them Cersei’s dead, if you are able.”

‘They know.’

“Really? How?”

‘Mate’s bird arrived at dawn.’

“What is it?” Tyrion asked.

“Jon’s already got the message up here. The only question now is whether or not the enemy fleet know and what we’re going to do about it.”

‘They know,” Drogon confirmed. “Unsure of choice.’

“Shall we perhaps help them to make it?”

‘Yes.’

Her dragon turned and headed south again and yet he had hardly emerged from the cloud before it became obvious that the enemy had already decided there was no point hanging around now that a dragon had arrived.

“All right, let’s be generous here, Drogon. Aim so that you just miss one ship. Let’s simply warm them up a bit and hurry them on their way.”

“It can be a bit cold at sea, even during spring,” Tyrion joked, chuckling and Dany had Drogon hover for just a little while longer until she was certain of the enemy’s intent, before asking her Familiar to inform the Ironborn that they would be in touch again very soon.

“And now back to The Neck to see how that’s going and then ...” She paused, shaking her head. “I did have a few other places on my list but, seeing as Jon’s obviously been quite thorough, I wonder if it makes more sense for us to return to King’s Landing and consult with him first?”

“Yes please,” Tyrion replied fervently and she laughed at his obvious discomfort.

“I thought you always wanted to ride on a dragon?” she teased. “Ever since you were a boy?”

“I believe we should all be very careful about such youthful desires,” he grumbled. “As we perhaps never fully understand what it is we are wishing for.”

~o~0~o~

“Jon!” Dany rushed across the courtyard and threw herself into her husband’s waiting arms, revelling in the feel and the scent of him as he swung her around enthusiastically.

“Thank the Gods you’re here,” he said, hugging her close, nuzzling in her hair just as Ghost had done back in Winterfell.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing … everything ...” He shook his head. “I just missed you, is all.” He looked over to see who was with her and his shoulders sagged in obvious relief. “Tryion! Are you a sight for sore eyes!”

“I’m not sure you’ve ever been so pleased to see me before, Your Grace,” he said with a grin.

Jon smiled back. “It’s been fine, I suppose. All I’ve really had to do is a lot of threatening, and having a dragon on side certainly helps with that. What with him and Longclaw I’ve had no real concerns about my safety, but it’s just that I’ve not really known who to trust and so it’s just been me, Ebrose and our one northern spy here. I didn’t even know who yours were.”

He ushered the Warg tutor forwards to introduce to Tyrion and then, afterwards, a rather beautiful and curvy red-head named Ros, who Dany greeted politely whilst trying hard not to wonder at how such a woman had come to be Jon’s spy here. They were then escorted into the castle through the gardens and from there to an office, from where Tyrion sent messages for his spies to join them so they could begin the long process of dealing with the extraordinary events that had occurred over the last couple of days.

~o~0~o~

It was very late when the royal couple finally fell into bed in some random chamber in King’s Landing. Dany had thought they would both be far too tired and fretful to want to do anything other than sleep, but her husband’s frustrations needed an outlet and she realised that it was much the same for her too.

“You were wonderful, by the way,” she said as his hands began to wander gently across her bare skin.

“Hmm?” he asked, lips now venturing downwards.

“In the Throne Room. The way you fought.” The little hitch in her voice wasn’t entirely due to Jon’s ministrations and he paused at her stomach, looking up at her, curiously.

“You didn’t seem too impressed at the time.”

“Oh, I was,” she reassured him, “just … concerned about getting out of there.”

“So … exactly how impressed were you?” He ducked down to kiss her tummy again but she didn’t miss the smirk on his face.

“Very. Seeing you in action like that was … most arousing.” He was at her hips now and she wriggled a bit in anticipation.

“Hmm … I feel the same whenever I see you swoop down on Drogon.”

She gasped as Jon finally reached his target, his tongue getting to work as she arched her back and opened her legs wider. “Yes … like that,” she gasped and then groaned as he pulled away to look up at her again.

“You thinking about it now, aren’t you? About me fighting?”

She nodded. “It’s nice to be able to relive it without worrying about Ella.”

“Good to know,” he said. “I must arrange to have you watch me train at some point if this is what it does to you.” And then there was no more coherent talking for a while, as Jon focused on tipping his wife over the edge and she happily allowed him to do so.

Afterwards, he crawled back up her body, planting small kisses as he went, and Dany shivered in delight on seeing his gaze as he reached her face - dark and hungry - fully aware of how turned on and wound up he was and knowing exactly what needed to be done about it. Without a word being exchanged, she rolled herself up onto all fours and leant down on her elbows, offering herself to him so that he could take her from behind.

“Are you sure?” he asked, already moving into position as he gently stroked her bare thighs.

“Gods yes,” she replied and a heartbeat later, “Yes!” as he thrust into her aggressively, and Dany revelled in the discomfort - needing it - despite usually preferring to look her husband in the eyes.

Jon didn’t last long after that although, as usual, he seemed determined to bring her along with him, using his fingers to assist her even whilst appearing completely focused on his own pleasure.

“You are wonderful,” he gasped as he collapsed down by her side afterwards. “And I do love you so very much, my queen.” He sighed. “My queen of Westeros now.”

“I shall enjoy that title while I can,” she mumbled as she snuggled up next to him. “Until such time as we initiate the council down here and decide how that’s all going to work.”

Jon’s yawn was quite obviously exaggerated. “Let’s save that discussion for tomorrow, Dany. All I want to do right now is sleep. Preferably without experiencing any nightmares or waking up to assassins.”

~o~0~o~

Chapter Text

Jon

Dragonstone

Jon was briefly roused from his dream by the muffled sounds of the baby crying, only vaguely aware of his wife leaving their bed before sleep quickly claimed him again. Within moments though he was being gently shaken awake.

“Jon ...” Dany sounded as if she were trying not to laugh and he somehow managed to force his eyes open.

“Hmm?”

“You have to come see this.”

He yawned and nodded, getting up and grabbing a long nightshirt to cover his nakedness, before following his wife through to the nursery.

“I heard Aemon cry,” she explained, “so I got up to see if he needed feeding and ...” She pushed open the door slightly to reveal the sight of six year old Lyaella, sitting on Daenerys large nursing chair with her baby brother on her lap, gently humming him back to sleep.

“How did you get him out of his crib?” Jon asked their daughter as they walked into the room.

Ella looked up at them and shrugged. “Light.”

Her spoken words were still few and far between, usually backed up by thoughts and emotions which only the strongest of Riders could sense, but at least now she could now make herself understood to most people, even if she was still a little sullen in the company of any without strong ability.

“Does he need feeding?” Dany asked her, “or changing?”

“He is a bit hungry,” she replied before continuing silently, ‘but not as much as he’s making out. He mostly just wanted attention.’

Jon had to admit that it was incredibly useful having a child who could so easily communicate what a small baby needed, even if he did sometimes feel a touch offended that their son was treated as some sort of Familiar by the princess. Then again, considering Ella got on better with animals than she did with most humans, that was likely to be a compliment in her eyes.

Dany quickly took over then, lifting Aemon off of Lyaella’s lap and settling down to feed him whilst Jon took hold of his daughter’s hand.

“Take her to Missandei and then go get yourself down to the baths, Jon,” his wife ordered. “I’ll be along in a bit to … help you wash.”

He smirked at her whilst Ella rolled her eyes. ‘You two are old enough not to need help bathing, you know that, right?’

“But where would be the fun in that?” Jon countered, still grinning at his wife. “You heading to King’s Landing today?”

Dany sighed. “Yes, usual Seven Council meeting and other boring stuff.”

“Well, I’d love to help but ...”

“Yes, yes, I know. I’m the only one able to fly over there.” She turned to their daughter. “Unless you fancy taking over from me today, Ella?”

The little girl glared. “Dae, I’m six!”

“And probably far more capable than most of the lords of Westeros,” Jon countered.

“Don’t start giving her ideas,” Dany retorted. “Go be a good girl for Missandei and Jae will come and see you after he’s done the military rounds.”

Jon grinned as he took his daughter’s hand again, constantly amused at how they both now referred to the other by the names Lyaella had chosen for them when she had been tiny. He suspected that their son would start to adopt them too and confuse even more people when their children refused to call their parents mother and father. Personally he far preferred the nicknames.

~o~0~o~

“You all right, Love?” he asked Daenerys as she slipped into the large sunken bath they’d had restored here a couple of years earlier. “You never did have much of a chance to rest after Aemon was born.”

“I’m just a bit tired and sore,” she replied, lying back next to him, stretching in the hot water and running her hands over her breasts. “But at least I get to sit down for most of today.”

“So is it our son or your dragon causing you pain?” he asked, first gently rolling his palms over her currently very generous breasts before moving one down between her legs. “And what can I rub to make you feel better?”

She smirked. “Yes, Jon, I’m sore in both of those places and need plenty of massaging if you think we’ve got the time?”

“We are the rulers of Westeros, my love, and all our lords and commanders will just have to wait. I’m sure you’ll be of far more use to Tyrion if you’re not tired, stressed and deprived of your husband’s attentions.”

“Hmm,” she said, sitting up a little so she could kiss him before running her hand up his leg. “And this would have nothing at all to do with how tense you’re feeling this morning, I suppose?”

“Well, I do have work of my own to do at the barracks and the rookery,” he said, throwing his head back as her hand reached its destination and began stroking him firmly, “and so, yes, any assistance my wife can give me would be most gratefully received.”

The bath was delightful, with both taking their time to caress soap into the other’s skin and spending more time than necessary focusing on certain, more interesting parts of their bodies. Mostly clean, but still sexually tense, the pair quickly scrambled out and roughly dried off before Jon impatiently sat down on one of the towels and encouraged his wife to join him. This morning he felt unusually impatient to be inside her and pulled her down onto his lap so she could ride him for a while.

“Stop fighting me for once, Jon,” she said as he attempted to adjust their positions in order to reach down between them and help her along. “We don’t always have to finish together, you know? All of this stopped being a competition years ago.”

“What?” He stopped abruptly, feigning shock. “Since when? And why did you not tell me the rules had changed?”

“Idiot!” she retorted, slapping him hard on the arm and struggling not to laugh. “For that you get punished.”

“I do?”

“Yes, your least favourite. Lie on your back and keep your hands to yourself. You’re about to get ridden hard.”

“Such a cruel, demanding wife,” he replied, lifting his hands above his head and smirking, deciding to annoy her by appearing unconcerned by the restriction. After all, it was hardly going to be unpleasant and the view he had of her now that her breasts were so much larger was definitely exciting, except ... “Are you sure you don’t want me to hold them? You know … only so they’re not as uncomfortable for you?”

She growled at him, first pulling herself off him and then heading down towards his hips, ready to take him in her mouth. “I told you to stop fighting me,” she said, attacking him hard and using all the tricks she’d learnt over the last seven years to ensure he quickly forgot about teasing her.

“Dany … yes, my love, I’ll … I promise I won’t fight.”

She paused then, looking up at him, eyes sparkling. “No?”

“No. Please. I’ll be good just ...” He gasped as she returned to her task, her sudden aggression and clever tricks ensuring that he lasted for only a couple more heartbeats, growling out her name as he finished.

Afterwards they briefly headed back into the water before Jon returned the compliment and made sure his wife was also fully satisfied. By then it was getting late and various Rider messages were being sent their way urgently requesting their presence. So, with a few grumbles, the couple roughly wrapped themselves in light robes and headed back upstairs to their chambers.

~o~0~o~

Jon finished dressing and moved into the main room of their chambers, heading over to his wife to give her a gentle kiss. “All ready?” he asked her.

“Almost.”

Missandei emerged from the nursery with Aemon then, helping to secure him in the usual sling across the queen’s chest. Dany was still nursing him and would not allow anyone else to do so, which meant that wherever she went, baby went too, cradled close against her body so she could ride with him on Drogon to King’s Landing and then feed him regularly throughout the day. Jon wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that, but his son was a Targaryen, despite his dark hair, so it was probably best he got used to being up there.

Jon gave his wife another kiss, this one a little more lingering, before bending down to place a brief one on Aemon’s head. The queen then headed outside to where Drogon was waiting, Missandei took Ella for her lessons and Jon made his way to the island barracks to check their defences and train with the soldiers. Afterwards he headed up the tight, winding stairs of the Sea Dragon Tower to collect and read the written and Rider messages that had recently arrived, before writing and sending a few of his own.

After his morning work and some food, Jon collected Lyaella from Missandei, and father and daughter headed towards the dragon field at the north of the island in order to spend some time with Rhaegal and hopefully, if the dragon was willing, allow Lyaella to practice her flying.

It had taken some time for them to reach a compromise with the green; Drogon in particular acting as mediator to encourage his brother to accept one of the adults on his back along with Lyaella whilst she was very small. Jon wasn’t quite sure what to think when he had been the one chosen, but perhaps the connection they shared from as far back as the Battle for the Dawn had made the difference. Or maybe it was due to the bond they had developed during the Oldtown fight. Either way, he was now accepted on the dragon’s back only if accompanied by Lyaella, and they had reached the point where both she and Rhaegal were usually far too excited about flying together to even concern themselves with Jon’s presence.

“Sōvēs,” his daughter said and Jon took a deep breath as he felt the dragon’s muscles bunch under him, reaching around Ella to grab at a couple of scales whilst she laughed brightly. “Sōvēs, Hiraeth. High. Dik.”

Jon frowned, struggling to keep up with his daughter’s spoken words which tended to be an odd mix of numerous different languages, especially when she was excited.

“I got ‘fly’ and ‘high’ but …?”

She repeated them again, this time in a different language order, which meant that Jon could then understand enough to suggest that Ella kept her instructions a little more cautious, especially considering Rhaegal had a tendency to over react.

“No,” she shouted over her shoulder. “Hiraeth.”

He frowned for a moment before working it out. “That’s his true name?”

“Aye,” she replied and Jon couldn’t help but smile on hearing the word she had quite obviously picked up from him.

“You’ll remember to keep that to yourself though, won’t you? A Familiar’s true name is a very special secret.”

‘But you need to know,’ she said, switching to silent conversation now it was getting more complicated for her. ‘Because it’s important, because you’re allowed in.’

“That’s true,” he replied, understanding he had a unique relationship with the green; allowed a certain amount of Rider privileges in the short term, whilst accepting that they would end as soon as Dany decided Ella was capable of Riding by herself.

“What language is ‘Hiraeth’?” he asked his daughter.

‘I don’t know.’

He shook his head and tried a different tack. “What feelings do you get about it?”

‘It’s … a bit sad. Like 'home' but … not quite.’ She sighed. ‘It’s how she felt all these years waiting for me.’

“She?”

‘Yes?’ He sensed some of his daughter’s thoughts then, a strange mix of language confusion and … something else. ‘Dragons aren’t really girls or boys, you see.’

“Yes, I remember Dae saying.”

‘Rhaegal was mostly boy but Hiraeth is mostly girl.’

Jon blinked as he tried to get his head around that. “I … see?” He would definitely need to talk to Dany about this later.

“And also …. there will be eggs,” she shouted over her shoulder before turning her attention forward again.

“Really?”

“Yes, two. One for Aemon and one for the next one.”

Jon coughed. “The next one?”

“Yes, you-”

“-Actually, never mind, Ella. I think perhaps you should leave Dae and I a couple of surprises, don’t you?”

“Sorry. I forget. I … see so many odd things.”

“Yes, I know. You should probably talk it all through with Uncle Bran when we visit Winterfell tomorrow.”

She turned her head around to him again, her eyes wide. “Tomorrow? Really?”

“Yes, we have a council meeting up there.”

Missandei was standing on the cliff waiting for them as they came into land and Jon suggested Lyaella spend a little time sitting against Rheagal … Hiraeth’s back so the two could talk and continue to strengthen their bond, before he moving over towards the young advisor.

“How are the dragon lessons progressing?” she asked in her usual, quiet tone.

“Very well, I’d say.”

She nodded and then frowned. “Do you not … worry about being in this situation without Daenerys around?”

“What do you mean?”

“Excuse me, but I just wondered how much control you have over this dragon?”

“Honestly?” Jon replied. “Practically none.”

The young woman’s eyes widened. “But … why do you do this then? Without the queen and her dragon here to help?”

“Because Lyaella needs to spend plenty of time earning the green’s trust, and I need to spend time with both of them in order to be the best possible father to her.”

She shook her head. “I do not understand. You are a good father.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Missandei but that’s the point, you see. The only protection I really have against that weapon.” He pointed at the dragon, “is Lyaella’s love and respect for me. She accepts that, as her parent, I outrank her in most ways which means she does as I say - more or less - and, in return, receives as much love and praise as she requires. That means that I can tell her what she should and should not do in regards to her dragon and she will accept it as law. That is all Daenerys and I can do, you see? Work hard to ensure that she grows up as a decent person and uses her very great power for the good of the realm and not for her own self interest. After all, we’ve all had first hand experience of what happens when children are not taught those lessons, haven’t we?”

Missandei nodded. “Indeed.”

Jon sensed a push on his mind and looked up towards the south with a smile just as his daughter came running over to them and tugged hard on the hem of his shirt. “Dae is coming home.”

“I heard,” he replied. “Let’s wait for her here then, shall we?”

Missandei gave a small duck of the head. “And that is my cue to go and prepare the baths for her.” She smiled. “Will you be joining her, Your Grace?”

“It’s Jon, Missandei,” he said, laughing. “How many times do I have to remind you?”

She pulled a face. “A hard habit for me to break … Jon, I promise I shall try harder.”

“I wish you would,” he replied, “and, yes, thank you, I would be happy to share her bath if she wishes it.”

Missandei smiled. “I cannot imagine she will refuse and I should perhaps now take the princess for hers?”

“Aye. If you would.”

Lyaella sighed loudly. “I wish I knew why you both enjoy baths so much, Jae,” she said as she moved to take Missandei’s hand. “They always seem very boring to me.”

~o~0~o~

A rare and welcome peace had descended over Westeros, although the logistics of managing such a vast realm were never going to be easy. Sansa and Bran now held Winterfell and managed the north, much as they had before, whilst Daenerys and Jon dealt with King’s Landing and Oldtown, despite having chosen the ancient Targaryen seat of Dragonstone as their family home.

Most days, Daenerys would fly off on Drogon whilst Jon stayed behind to work and spend time with Lyaella. If both were required to attend a Council meeting for any reason, Missandei would mind their daughter and they would fly together, occasionally staying overnight but usually returning to their family, just as any lord, farmer or blacksmith would do at the end of their working day.

They had now set up a ruling Council of Seven in King’s Landing which met at least once a week. The system had also been adopted in other major castles within the realm, and Jon and Daenerys were often invited to the most important of these, especially in Oldtown and Winterfell. However, the northern meetings were always about more than just work, and the couple would try to clear as much of their schedules as possible and treat the trip as something of a small holiday.

So, the following morning saw them all back on the cliff with the two dragons and a number of full bags, ready for a week long visit to Winterfell. Missandei was to travel with them - Drogon having given his permission for her to ride on his back - and the advisor sat behind Daenerys who was carrying baby Aemon in his usual sling, whilst Jon sat behind his daughter on the green.

Lyaella had taken his advice literally, not once correcting her mother when she’d talked of Rhaegal, although Jon had decided to pass on the new name to his wife last night anyway. The conversation with Missandei had made him realise that he'd been taking his relationship with the green for granted recently and having Dany know her true name just might give them some extra control if things ever did get out of hand. He was also curious about the new name - one his wife didn’t know the meaning of either - and they were planning to ask Missandei to translate it, confident that their advisor had neither the Rider power nor the desire to use such knowledge against them.

It was an easy flight up for Jon and Ella today, with little for either of them to do but sit back and allow Hiraeth to follow Drogon, and Jon took the opportunity to point out various landmarks to his daughter - a unique geography lesson from this height - interspersed with some historical and political information about the various castles and landmarks they flew over.

“There!” he said, leaning forward and pointing. “Look! It’s Winterfell.”

“Jae!” Ella shouted back, giggling. “You are so excited.”

“Well, it is my home.”

She shook her head. “Silly Jae,” she scolded. “We’re you’re home now. Dae, Aemon, me and the dragons. I told you that before.”

He placed a kiss on her silver curls, already springing out of their braids. “You did and you are but, even so, I do enjoy returning to the place I grew up and meeting with this side of my family.”

She nodded. “I know. And with Ghost.”

“Aye,” he replied with a heavy sigh. His direwolf far preferred it in the north, especially now it was summer, only drifting down as far as The Neck when his Rider was in the south in order to help them keep in touch.

'We should come and visit him more often,' Ella declared, probably sensing something of her father's thoughts. 'Hiraeth won’t mind.'

Jon laughed. “You’re only saying that because you want my permission to let you fly further and more often.”

'But you’ll let me, won’t you? If you ride with us and … you’ll have to anyway if we’re visiting Ghost.'

‘Will carry wolf-sire to wolf. Even when we are grown.’

“There, see!”

“Thank you, Hiraeth,” Jon replied, genuinely pleased at the concession. He had already started to dread the prospect of losing these flights in a few years time when Ella became old enough to fly without him. He looked around to notice they were now coming into land, just outside the Hunter’s Gate. “I take it that means you’re hungry?”

‘A little,” the green said, turning to look over at Drogon. ‘Brother always hungry though.’

“Just like my brother,” Lyaella replied, starting to dismount by herself before Jon even had a chance to think about helping her. Dany raised an eyebrow at him as he reached the ground and he winced.

“Sorry, she barely gave me a chance.”

“It’s fine. I suppose she knows what she’s doing now. How was the flight?”

“Good.” He moved closer to kiss her, his hand resting gently on Aemon’s head as the baby started to stir a little. “How was he?”

“Quiet as usual. Just waking up now. A true Targaryen, this one, despite the hair. Never makes a fuss when he’s flying, only ever when he’s on the ground.”

“The next dragon Rider then, if what Lyaella said is true.” He had told his wife about the eggs last night but had decided not to pass on their daughter’s other comment about a third child, thinking Dany might prefer the surprise. Still, as she had said when they were here three years ago, he certainly wouldn’t complain about finding more time to help make that a reality.

Arya was off travelling again, unfortunately, but it would be good to see Sansa and Bran and catch up on all of their news. Lyaella had only really tolerated his older sister when she had been a baby but she was considerably more sociable now and greeted the lady of Winterfell out loud for the first time which seemed to thrill Sansa no end.

“Well now, what a polite young lady you have grown up to be,” she said. “Will you give your aunt a hug?”

Ella nodded and stepped forward to accept the embrace, albeit a little reluctantly, and Jon exchanged an amused glance with Daenerys at the sight. She was definitely getting there.

“And my nephew.” Sansa’s eyes were bright as she moved forwards towards Daenerys who laughed and lifted Aemon out of his sling. “He is so much bigger now.”

“He was newly born the last time you saw him, of course,” she said as she handed the fretting baby over and Sansa seemed stunned when he immediately quieted in her arms.

“He has your hair, I think, Jon?” she said.

He nodded. “It is so fascinating to see which traits each of our children have acquired.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Who would know? Hair and eye colour aside, the pair of you are just as attractive, stubborn and wild as the other. In fact I’m surprised at how quiet and polite your children are, all things considered.”

Lyaella giggled. “I am not always quiet and neither is Aemon.”

Jon ruffled her head affectionately, causing her to grumble about him messing up her braids, even though he knew full well that she didn’t care about them as much as her mother did. The little girl then rushed over to Bran, throwing her arms around his neck without a word spoken out loud, and Jon was pleased to see his brother smile brightly at her as she scrambled up onto a seat next to her uncle’s wheeled chair and starting to converse with him telepathically. Telling him something about her dragon, as far as he was able to tell.

After the greetings, the family spent a little time settling into their usual rooms here, enjoying an afternoon to rest from their journey, before the children were settled in their beds and Jon and Dany headed down to the Great Hall for a grand evening feast held in their honour.

~o~0~o~

Jon was sitting under the great Weirwood tree in the Godswood, resting his back against Ghost’s side, feeling his eyes growing heavy as he drifted into a comfortable Warg state and allowed their joint minds to wander. That meant he knew when Daenerys approached, long before he would have seen or heard her as a human, her unique scent alerting him first before he felt the comforting, gentle warmth of her mind reaching out for him. She was thinking about him - very slightly concerned - and Jon grinned as he realised that she’d been searching for him for some time and was now feeling impatient and also ...

He chuckled as he caught her last thought, his whole body and mind now thrumming in anticipation of her arrival, and Ghost shifted under him, grumbling slightly.

‘Time to hunt.’

His Familar’s comment was a half-complaint, more than aware of his Rider’s current state of mind and what would inevitably be happening now, and Jon sat up as his wife came into view, allowing his direwolf to pad over to the queen and briefly push his nose against her neck before heading off.

“I wondered where you were,” she said as he stood and held his hands out to her.

“I sensed you wondering,” he replied. “I was enjoying viewing you through Ghost.”

“Oh?”

“Hmm,” He pulled her closer. “You smelt so good.”

She raised an eyebrow “Really?”

“Yes. You smelt … aroused.” She glared at his smirk. “Tell me that’s not the reason you sought me out?”

“Well, I was going to suggest a trip to our tower room, yes,” she admitted. “But if you’re going to be rude ...”

“I can be just as rude as you like,” he retorted, “but I’m honestly far too comfy to move. Let’s lie down here instead.”

“Really?” she frowned. “Isn’t this where your gods live?”

“They won’t mind,” he assured her. “They’re nowhere near as prudish as the southern ones.”

“What if we’re disturbed?”

“We won’t be. Come, Love, I have an urgent need to be inside you.”

“Jon-” That was as far as she got before his lips were on hers, tasting her and soaking her in as he impatiently began to lift her skirts.

“I love that it’s the summer and you now wear so little,” he said they both hurriedly undressed.

“This is still mild weather compared to Essos. You would have liked the clothes I wore there even more, I think.”

“Really?”

“I’ll have to see if I have any with me – or something similar. I think you’d appreciate it.”

“Sounds good, but I’d only be taking them off again so, what would be the point?”

“Oh, you’ll most definitely see the point,” she promised him.

Once Jon had finally lay his naked wife down on their clothes under the weirwood tree and eased himself into her, his earlier impatience seemed to have abated somewhat. She shifted under him slightly, legs wrapped lightly around his hips as he slowly moved in and out of her and, for once, he received no complaint about the gentleness, her hands now on either side of his face as she gazed up at him, her eyes wide with something akin to wonder.

“I love you, Jon,” she declared. “I love everything about you. I could never have imagined being so lucky as to have you like this when we first met here seven years ago.”

“No, I’m the lucky one,” he insisted, pausing his movements so he could gaze at her in return, his hands now on her face as his thumb gently stroked her eyebrow. “Lucky to fall in love with the famous Daenerys Targaryen and the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Ah, but you know that isn’t true,” she replied, her small giggle making him gasp at the small jolt of pleasure he felt now they were joined so intimately. “Our daughter has your looks as well as mine and so that makes her even prettier than you.”

He moved, snatching her hands from his face and pinning them down onto the soft earth behind her head, smirking as she yelped. “You are just asking for trouble, aren’t you?”

“You know exactly what I’m asking for, Jon and you have always, always given it to me. You call yourself a Warg Rider? Then prove it. Ride this dragon until she begs for mercy.”

“Tempting,” he replied, “but no.” And he flipped them over in one smooth movement so that he was the one lying on his back. “I am as much dragon as I am wolf, my love, but you are the true dragon Rider here. So, why don’t you show me what that title really means.”

~o~0~o~

The End