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Dany saw Jon, at the spot where she had told him he could mine the dragonglass. He was watching the water and her children as they played tag in the sky. She could tell he held a large weight on his shoulders, cleary brooding as his eyes followed the paths of her children. She had been looking for him. She was restless, thinking about the mission beyond the wall. Wishing she had more time to get to know this King in the North before he went and got himself killed. She bit her lip. She needed him to know.
Dany walked down the stone steps, stopping before the last one to make her presence known.
“Sometimes I watch my children and wish that I could fly away with them and leave all of my problems behind.”
He turned to her. “You very easily could, your grace. But what about Westeros?”
She huffed in amusement, and joined him next to the stone wall.
“I always wondered what Westeros would be like. I heard stories as a girl that the 7 kingdoms were waiting for the true Targaryen heir to come back and restore peace, that they sang songs about us -my brother Viserys and me. It sounded wonderful- a home to return to and live happily ever after.”
He nodded, contemplating what she was saying, encouraging her to go on.
“When I was older, and living with the Dothraki I realized there were no songs being sung about us, no loyalists secretly hoping for a Targaryen restoration. Our keepers had lied to us. I felt alone- my brother was becoming mad and he would never bring us “home”, much less be respected as a king. If the Targaryens were to rule the seven kingdoms, it would have to be me. And I would have to fight for it, but it was my legacy. Eventually my husband murdered my brother by giving him the golden crown he always wanted. I allowed it.”
Jon looked at her, the silent question in his eyes.
“A molten crown. He died by heat, by fire. He was no dragon. I was the last Targaryen, the very last dragon. I was unburnt. I still had a kingdom to rule, and people to fight for.”
She looked from one end of the sprawling beach below them to the other, and back at her dragons. “Coming to Westeros didn’t have the feeling of arriving home that I thought it might. Hmm. Maybe home was being with my brother, wherever we were.”
He pressed his lips together, brows furrowed. His eyes traced over her face, and down at his feet. “I’m sorry. “
She shook her head. “Don’t be. When you first came to Dragonstone I told you why I have such faith in myself. My brother was responsible for many of the things that I said happened to me.”
She turned back to watch her children and placed her hands on the rock wall. Jon clenched his jaw and made a fist. Dany noticed the tension come back into his body next to her. He mimicked her hands on the wall and let out a sigh.
“I can’t even imagine being that cruel to any of my siblings. Half siblings at that…”
He trailed off and chuckled. She turned at the sound. His face looks so nice with a smile on it she thought. His face was lit up and his body became loose and relaxed next to her. She looked forward to whatever he was going to tell her.
“I can’t believe Arya and Bran are alive. I never thought I would see any of my family again and now there are four of us.”
“I’m really happy for you,” she said softly, eyes smiling. She was, truly. She hoped that he would return from his mission beyond the wall to be able to reunite with them. She had always dreamed of family, of a homecoming like that.
He looked off at the water, getting animated as he remembered his siblings. She couldn’t help but wonder what it felt like to have good memories of family. She had a few of course, from when she was younger, but nothing that would bring her as much joy as Jon was showing right that moment.
“Arya was my favorite- a spitfire little thing. Not at all interested in being a lady like Sansa was, like she was expected to be as the daughter of the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. She would skip out of her needlepoint lessons to watch her brother’s archery lessons. She was better than Bran.” He puffed out a small laugh. “When I left for the Wall I gave her a sword, to remember me by. I wonder if she still has it and if she learned to use it. He looked down, smiling. “I can’t wait to see her again.”
Her smile matched his as he worked through his memories. She kept her face bright for him but inside she was sinking. She couldn’t help but feel a little sad, so she looked out at her dragons. She stilled, absentmindedly staring at them and thinking about how he might not come back. Shaking her head, she felt so bad for him to learn about Bran and Arya now of all times. War was coming. She felt bad for him, for them and for her. They only just met. She bit her lip and shivered.
He had turned to her without her noticing. “You remind me a little of her actually.”
That snapped her back into their conversation. Her eyebrows went up and she pursed her lips. She was surprised at his declaration, a little shy to hear the comparison to his favorite sister. She turned her head to him, “Oh? Well I have no sword, I must admit.“
He smiled sweetly at her. “Not that. Just, I guess she has a little fire in her like you do. Strong and stubborn,” he chuffed.
She looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded.
Her eyebrows shot up and she whipped her body around to face him, forcing him to take a quick step backwards.
“Stubborn!? You’re the one going north of the wall on a suicide mission!!!” she blurted, incredulously.
The mood changed instantly. She felt fire course through her veins and she knew her fear was bubbling over. She couldn’t help the terrified expression on her face.
He was not expecting that reaction, she could tell. He took another small step back as his eyes grew. He took a moment to himself, looking at the ground, squinting skeptically, thinking. Jon was taken aback by her words and intensity. He gave her a once over, eyes sweeping down her body and then back to meet hers, with an expression she hadn’t seen before. It sent ice through her veins. Then his jaw set and he took two quick steps forwards again, eyes locked with hers.
She gulped and looked down.
“Your grace…” he strongly started.
“Daenerys,” she met his eyes and pleaded.
“Daenerys,” he growled quietly, eyes burning through her.
His whisper and gaze went straight through her. She thought of him whispering in her ear, bodies close together. She blushed and looked at the water again.
“I have to do this,” he started. “There is no other way. You won’t help me unless I convince Cersei, right?” his voice rose at the end, biting at her a little.
She looked down, guilty. He was doing this for her. It would kill her if he didn’t return.
“Lord Snow…” she attempted weakly, feeling awkward under his stare.
“Jon.” He demanded.
“Jon. “
She savored the way the name sounded rolling off of her tongue. She looked deeply into his eyes, and stepped closer to him.
“Jon. I…I know that it delays me coming to save the north. But I need to keep my country safe too. I know you know the weight of that responsibility,” she implored, wondering if even a part of him had felt the loneliness that she felt as a single ruler.
He nodded.
“I do. I’ve been carrying it for a long time. Since I saw the first wight at Castle Black, I knew that I’d be at war with them eventually. That’s why I have to go, more than anyone. I know the white walkers better than anyone. I’m our best shot to capture a wight. It is evidently what I need to do to get support for the North,” he ended.
Dany watched his determined face for another moment, eyes dropping to his lips and back up to his fiery eyes. She knew he was right. She wanted to help him but she couldn’t turn her back on her kingdom. She backed down again, like she did across the carved table earlier. This was the plan and that was that. Defeated, she turned out to face the water again, and Jon mimicked her.
Dany glanced at their hands side by side on the rock wall for a minute, and bit her lower lip. She looked up again at her children with a worried face, not looking back at him. She watched them tumble and play in the sky for a brief moment before looking at him from the corner of her eyes.
“I’d like to point out we both are stubborn,” she deadpanned dryly.
He chuffed, not looking at her and she got goosebumps at the sound. She couldn’t bare to look at his face lit up in mirth. She knew it would make it harder to send him off. She closed her eyes and breathed in. She felt like she couldn’t let him leave Dragonstone without at least letting him know that they were kind of allies? Friends? She didn’t know what they were but it wasn’t nothing. He was going on a suicide mission for her and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him for it. She opened her eyes and pressed her hands into the rock before lifting her face again, regally.
“Yes, I definitely wish I could jump on Drogon and fly away to somewhere that feels like home. Where nobody I care about goes off on dangerous missions for my cause.”
His eyes widened and he turned his head, again trying to read the expression on her face. His left hand shifted when he turned to her, and it brushed against her right hand. He left it there while his eyes searched for some kind of answer to what she had meant by that. She allowed the contact between their hands, feeling the fire flowing between her pinky finger and his. She closed her eyes to steel herself and revel in the feeling for as long as she dared to. It was a longer time than was appropriate between political allies but she held her pinky finger there, needing to make this memory of him. He stared between her face and their fingers with his mouth agape while she held her eyes shut.
She couldn’t help the tears that started welling but she was somehow able to keep them from falling. She turned abruptly to him, making him turn quickly too. She held onto the wall for strength while her eyes welled up further, and her breath quickened. She couldn’t look at him. His eyes grew as he noticed her display of emotion and he moved to comfort her. She wanted more than anything to fall into his arms right now. Lifting her hand in front of her, she cut him off before it would be more than she could handle.
“Please be safe,” she begged him in a tiny voice, with the same sad eyes she gave him in the council room. He returned her sad gaze and she just couldn’t-she was going to lose it in front of this man she barely knew but liked so much. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, dropping the two tears she had been holding in and choked out an audible sob. Not daring to open her eyes, she pressed her lips together painfully to hold her composure. Her hand moved blindly, desperate to rest firmly over his on the rock wall and she allowed herself a small moment to feel the warmth of his hand again. Then she quickly fled, never looking back, hot tears spilling over her face as she ran up the stone stairs towards the castle. Now he knew.