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Jon wakes, his limbs stretching out the soreness from the previous night. As he fights to open his eyes he remembers the events of a few hours previous, of Daenerys on her knees in front of him, of her moans as he filled her, of the taste of her mouth as she kissed him raw, and of the words they had shared. He doesn’t bother to stop himself smiling and not for the first time he thanks the Old Gods for his good fortune, that they had lead him to her, and to her bed that they had shared on the many nights of their journey to Winterfell. He wished they could stay on the boat, and do as Euron Greyjoy had said; find an island and wait out the Long Night. But, he and Daenerys were both far too honorable and good to ignore the threat in the North. Therefore he would savour these last few days alone with her, while they had them.
He opens his eyes and the smile leaves his face. Daenerys is not beside him, the space in her bed empty. Jon sits up, looking around her cabin, but he is alone. He pushes the fur covers off of him and picks up his trousers from the floor, pulling them over his legs. As he does, he glances out the small porthole window and stops, one leg in the air.
There is a visible yellow light slowly filling the room. His mouth opens in shock, approaching the porthole. He can see a small sliver of sun hitting the choppy waters. It is minimal but it is there. The sun is a rare sight in the Northern winters and he quickly finishes to put on his clothing, not bothering with a cloak or gloves. He leaves the Queen’s chambers, quietly closing the door behind him, in an effort not to wake Tyrion next door. He walks up the steep stairs to the deck of the ship, cold wind nipping at his bare hands. He rounds the corner to turn and face the golden rays of light, and stops.
He sees her sitting at the ship’s bow and he can’t help but stare. Daenerys is sitting on the harsh wood of the ship, her back to him, arms wrapped around her legs to keep warm. She is looking out towards the water, her eyes surveying the horizon. Her beautiful white hair glows in the sunlight and he notices that she his wearing his cloak around her shoulders. Jon’s heart stirs in his chest. His strong, beautiful, stubborn Queen looks small in his large cloak, her body huddled close together. Jon feels a wave of protectiveness and possessiveness wash through him. He walks towards her, and she turns, hearing him approach. As their eyes meet, her face softens, a small smile on her face. As he smiles in return, the sun rises over the horizon and golden light illuminates a halo around her head and Jon’s heart skips a beat. He doesn’t think she has ever been more beautiful, not when she rides her dragons, not when she sits on the throne, not even when she is in his bed.
She looks back towards the sunlight, her face raising to meet its warm light. He moves to sit behind her, placing his legs on either side of her small frame. He moves forward so that his chest is behind her back, his arms wrapping around her chest. She relaxes, her head falling on his shoulder. He knows this is unwise, knows they can’t be so cavalier; the ship’s night crew can clearly see them in this tender embrace. But he can’t bring themselves to care about the consequences right now.
Jon and Daenerys watch the sunrise in comfortable silence. Warmth spreads through him as he feels her heartbeat against him, her hand unconsciously tracing patterns on his knee. He presses a kiss to her white hair, and though he can’t see her face, he knows she is smiling. He is so in love with her. So in love with his beautiful southern Queen, and in that moment he unreservedly accepts that he cannot continue living without her beside him. He cannot face the Great War without knowing that she is his. He moves his mouth towards her ear and his breath quickens, as nervous as the night he knocked at her bedroom door. It has really only been a few days since she welcomed him into her bed and into her heart, but Jon knows they had both felt it before that, long before either of them wished to accept it. He takes a deep breath and plunges.
“Marry me.”
She stiffens against him, and he can feel her heart pick up pace. She is silent, and Jon knows he must say more.
“I don’t want to so that I can control you, so that I can be King. I do not want power, and even if I had a claim to the Throne I would denounce it.” Her hand instinctively grasps his knee, holding him in place. “You will make a strong and wise ruler, and I will do everything in my power to make you our leader.” He continues, his voice rough with sleep. “All I want is for my family and for the realm to be safe. And I need you by my side.” Speaking is becoming harder as his heart pounds, his voice faltering. He can’t hear Daenerys breathing. “I know this will cause troubles, I know Tyrion and the Lannisters and the Northern Lords will disapprove. But I don’t care, I love you.” He takes a moment to breathe. She stills says nothing. “I want to be yours and for you to be mine for the time we have left, whether that’s a week or until we are both a ripe old age.”
Finally, she turns to face him, and he looks at his Queen. And she has tears in her eyes, and a look of adoration on her face. Her gloved hand comes to rest on his cheek and he holds it in place, leaning into it.
“Yes,” Daenerys says her voice clear and his face breaks out into the largest smile to ever grace his brooding face. “Of course I will marry you.” Jon lets out a relieved laugh, tears coming to his eyes. He takes her face in his hands, and kisses her. She kisses back, and they are not urgent like their previous nights, but slow, and loving and purposeful. And Jon knows he has made the right choice.
They pull back and Jon rests his forehead against hers, holding her close.
“I am yours, Jon.” Daenerys says, and he breathes another sigh of content wrapping his arms around her, pulling her head towards his chest. Her hand comes to rest against his heart as his hand runs through her hair.
“And I am yours, my Queen.”
The sun shines on the Dragon and the Wolf, showering them in warm glowing light, before it disappears behind a cloud, lost to the Long Night.