#I want to rip Viserys apart with my own teeth

[alicent-archive]

This gif made me shiver, because for a second, for JUST one second, she looks like a girl. She looks like the girl in ep 1 and 2, young and full of life and and…and then she turns around, and you see that pregnant belly, and you realise she hasn't been that girl for a very long time.

[theusurpersdog]

The Price of Peace

In my first two pieces on A Dance with Dragons, I discussed the political aspect and relationships within Dany’s arc; and those aspects are extremely important because the way Daenerys interacts with the world reveals pieces of her. But they are just reflections of the most important part of her story: the human heart in conflict with itself.

The way her 10 chapters are written is extremely intentional; they are meant to act as mirror images of each other; the choices Daenerys is forced to make in the first three chapters are the choices she is again forced to make in the last three chapters. The point of this is so we can see how she has changed over the course of the story; at the end of her arc, she makes the opposite choices than she did at the beginning – instead of chaining her dragons she flies off on Drogon, abandons her “floppy ears”, and instead of staying in Meereen decides to leave.

And beyond the chapters in this book, GRRM has designed Daenerys’ whole story to be circular; everything about her time in Meereen harkens back to her time with the Dothraki, and her final chapter on the Dothraki Sea is an almost exact recreation of her last chapter in A Game of Thrones. Just as the middle chapters of A Dance with Dragons function as the connecting thread between Daenerys’ change of heart, A Clash of Kings and A Storm of Swords connect the little girl from the first chapter of A Game of Thrones to the khaleesi embracing fire & blood at the end of A Dance with Dragons. And that’s why this book feels like the climax of Dany’s story; because everything she’s done has been building to Daenerys X.

Only One Thing Frightens Me Now

In previous books, especially A Storm of Swords, we see Daenerys begin embracing her connection to her dragons, using it to explain her fiery nature and short temper. But when she is presented with Hazzea’s bones, it forces Dany to reckon with the truth of that connection:

“Lannister or Stark, what difference? Viserys used to call them the Usurper’s dogs. If a child is set upon by a pack of hounds, does it matter which one tears out his throat? All the dogs are just as guilty. The guilt. . .” The word caught in her throat. Hazzea.

For a long time now, she has known what her dragons were capable of; in A Clash of Kings she feared they would burn her kingdom to the ground, and in A Storm of Swords she feared they would hurt Irri and Jhiqui after Drogon bit and burned them. But she chose to ignore the red flags because her dragons were her children. And worse, they were her path to power:

If I look back, I am doomed. Dany told herself . . . but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

When Eroeh was hurt in A Game of Thrones, Daenerys was able to tell herself that it wasn’t her fault, that all she had done was try to help her. But the blood of Hazzea’s death is on Dany’s hands and she can’t pretend otherwise. Daenerys had always had some amount of fear that she could be capable of the cruelty her father and brother displayed, but this is proof to her that she has already let herself become something she never wanted to be. So she locks her dragons away; refusing to allow anyone else to get hurt, or herself to be tempted by their power.

And for the first several chapters of A Dance with Dragons, Daenerys is heartbroken; for her dragons and for herself. Before, they had been like her children, but now she can only think of them with disgust:

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought, Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world?

And beyond the shame she feels for placing her dragons ahead of her people, Daenerys is scared of what she might become:

“Only one thing frightens me now.”

“And what is it that you fear, sweet queen?”

“I am only a foolish young girl.” Dany rose on her toes and kissed his cheeks. “But not so foolish as to tell you that.”

These lines make it very clear that the only thing that frightens Dany is herself; but a pre-released chapter from before A Dance with Dragons was published made it even more clear:

She looks at Ser Barristan and tells him that she told Xaro that she feared only one thing, though she would not tell the merchant what. Ser Barristan guesses that she only fears her dragons. “Myself,” Dany tells him

This fear she has of herself is made even clearer in this passage:

She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? They had called her father mad, once.

This is the first time Daenerys acknowledges that being “the blood of the dragon” could be negative, and enforces her belief that she should completely turn her back on her dragons.

Looking Back

I call so much attention to Daenerys’ chaining of her dragons and fear over her own impulses because it is so contradictory to the choices she will make in the last several chapters.

Like I said earlier, GRRM designed her chapters to be circular in nature to highlight Dany’s change of heart through the course of the book. But her change of heart does not happen suddenly; it happens slowly, as she begins to forget Hazzea and her father.

At first, she feels guilty even mentioning her dragons to Xaro Xhoan Daxos:

“My dragons have grown, my shoulders have not. They range far afield, hunting.” Hazzea, forgive me.

But by the time Quentyn arrives in Meereen, she is willing to flaunt her dragons for him:

“They are dragons, Quentyn.” Dany stood on her toes and kissed him lightly once on each cheek. “And so am I.”

A part of the reason she can never let her dragons go is that she really did see them as her children, and they protected her when no one else could:

Drogon saved me when they would have drained my life from me. Drogon burned them all.

When Drogon disappears, she genuinely misses him as if she has lost a child.

But even more than that, the dragons are a piece of her. In the same way that the Starks share a special bond with their direwolves, Daenerys has imprinted on her dragons; to deny them is to deny herself. That’s why she seeks out comfort in the form of Daario once she has caged them:

And who would ever dare to love a dragon?

She found herself thinking of Daario Naharis once again

Everything in Meereen is built on Dany’s rejection of her dragons; not because she wants or planned for it to be this way, but because she must give up on her dragons to protect her people. And that gets to the heart of Dany’s despair at everything in Meereen; because her and her dragons are so interconnected, she must reject herself to be Queen of Meereen. Dany understands this when she chains her dragons, and understands that she should reject the parts of herself that allowed Hazzea to die; she spends nearly the entirety of A Dance with Dragons trying to change who she is. That’s what she is doing when she chains her dragons, makes peace with Astapor and Yunkai, marries Hizdahr, and opens the fighting pits.

But change is easier said than done, and even though Daenerys constantly places everyone above herself, she can’t quite commit to leaving her dragons and true nature behind. As I explored in my last meta, Daario is Dany’s outlet for her “dragon” desires, and the more she commits to Meereen, the more she gives to Daario; until she has to marry Hizdahr, and has to end her affair with Daario. Not coincidentally, it is right after this that she decides to leave Meereen for good.

Dreams of Smoke and Fire

Throughout the series, even before they hatched, the dragons have been on a parallel journey with Daenerys. And while she spends most of A Dance with Dragons apart from them, Dany still shares much of her story with Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion.

The way Rhaegal and Viserion are chained at the start of the story is symbolic of how Daenerys must give up part of herself to be Queen of Meereen. And much like Daenerys holds on to Daario as refuge, not all of the dragons are caged:

Two score of her bravest had risked themselves trying to capture him. Almost all had suffered burns, and four of them had died. The last she had seen of Drogon had been at sunset on the night of the third attempt. The black dragon had been flying north across the Skahazadhan toward the tall grasses of the Dothraki sea. He had not returned.

Even while Daenerys and her dragons labor in Meereen, a part of them is returning to the Dothraki Sea.

And just as Daenerys begins to grow tired and frustrated with the city and seeks more and more comfort with Daario, her dragons slowly begin to work their way free:

Down in the pit, Viserion had snapped one of his chains; he and Rhaegal grew more savage every day.

The bones on the floor of the pit were deeper than the last time she had been down here, and the walls and floors were black and grey, more ash than brick. They would not hold much longer … but behind them was only earth and stone. Can dragons tunnel through rock, like the firewyrms of old Valyria? She hoped not.

In the days leading up to the events of Daznak’s Pit, Daenerys begins to have dreams similar to the ones she had on the Dothraki Sea:

She was still talking when Dany finally fell to sleep, to dream queer, half-formed dreams of smoke and fire.

Drogon arrives in Daznak’s Pit just as Daenerys decides she can’t handle to proceedings anymore, and rips off the tokar that represents the peace she has made in the city. And when the spearmen begin trying to kill him, it affects Daenerys just as much as the dragon:

Drogon raised his head, blood dripping from his teeth. The hero leapt onto his back and drown the iron spearpoint down at the base of the dragon’s long scaled neck.

Dany and Drogon screamed as one.

Even when Daenerys has flown off with Drogon and left Meereen, her other two dragons continue to parallel her journey; Rhaegal and Viserion break free of their chains just as Daenerys symbolically breaks free of hers.

And once her and Drogon are in the Dothraki Sea, Drogon’s refusal to leave “Dragonstone” for Meereen is a reflection of Daenerys’ own desire to leave the city.

All of these connections work to make one point very clear: Daenerys is her dragons. So much of her arc over the last two books comes down to Daenerys having to choose between her people or her dragons, but it’s a choice she cannot make because she will always return to the dragons. At the end of A Game of Thrones, standing in the burning funeral pyre as her dragons hatch, this is what she thought to herself:

I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons

She made the choice to become those things when she sacrificed Mirri Maz Dur, and it’s a choice she is unable to turn her back on, no matter how hard she tries.

And GRRM has gone out of his way to make clear that this is a bad thing. The dragons cannot be tamed, chained, or overpowered. They are an unstoppable and unpredictable force, and everyone around them must cater to their whims or be burned along the way. Daenerys herself faces the consequences of dragons from thousands of years prior; the people in Meereen are starving because none of the ground is fertile, and none of the ground is fertile because Valyrian dragons scorched the earth. Hazzea’s death is the culmination of a pattern of escalation from Dany’s dragons; a tragic inevitability because Daenerys allowed them to be free.

I find it very interesting because, as I’ll elaborate below, the last two chapters of Dany’s Dance arc are focused on her undoing the decisions she makes in the first few chapters as she returns to the choices she made at the end of A Game of Thrones, that she also undoes a pivotal choice she made in A Storm of Swords. As I mentioned in the meta I wrote for that book, Daenerys went to Slaver’s Bay to buy an army, and “Breaker of Chains” humanitarian efforts came next; a side quest that became her main storyline. And it became her main storyline when she decides to lead the Unsullied as free men:

She raised the harpy's fingers in the air . . . and then she flung the scourge aside.

But when she decides to tame Drogon and ride away from Daznak’s Pit, she does the opposite:

She scrabbled in the sand, pushing against the pitmaster's corpse, and her fingers brushed against the handle of his whip. Touching it made her feel braver. The leather was warm, alive.

A Dragon or a Harpy

Daenerys’ time in Meereen is defined by her steadfast refusal to accept any part of their culture; she hates their food, she hates their customs and traditions, and it is a burden for her to even wear the tokar. This is a startling contrast to how willing she was to join Dothraki culture in A Game of Thrones, where she tells Jorah she is not a Queen but a Khaleesi. Her attitudes toward the Meereenese are much more in line with Viserys’ view of the Dothraki; the same way Viserys complained of their strange clothes, foreign tongue, and general “savagery”, even the way Viserys was appalled by the way they eat horse meat, is paralleled in how Daenerys discusses those aspects of Meereenese culture, except replace “horse meat” with “dog meat”. While Daenerys has some moral objections to Meereen, she hates most of their things because she is angry she has to be there, stuck a world away from the Seven Kingdoms, just as Viserys hated the Dothraki because they wouldn’t sail across the Narrow Sea for him.

Daenerys connection to Viserys grows as she is forced into the same position he was; watching helplessly as the Iron Throne slips slowly out of her grasp. Much more than any prior book, Daenerys constantly hears his advice in her mind:

"I am the blood of the dragon," Dany reminded him. "Have you ever seen a dragon with the flux?" Viserys had oft claimed that Targaryens were untroubled by the pestilences that afflicted common men, and so far as she could tell, it was true.

Viserys would have his head off for that insolence.

“If my brother Viserys had known that he had a Dornish princess waiting for him, he would have crossed to Sunspear as soon as he was old enough to wed."

I did wait. For my crown, for my throne, for you. All those years, and all I ever got was a pot of molten gold. Why did they give the dragon's eggs to you? They should have been mine. If I'd had a dragon, I would have taught the world the meaning of our words. Viserys began to laugh, until his jaw fell away from his face, smoking, and blood and molten gold ran from his mouth.

These parallels aren’t meant to suggest that Daenerys is becoming Viserys as much as they are to show the fulfillment of Dany’s own fears; through Clash and Storm, she has worried that if she had to beg and wait as Viserys did, she could become him. And in A Dance with Dragons, she has to beg for every small amount of peace the Sons of the Harpy will allow her, and abandon Astapor and Yunkai back to slavery, as well as marry herself away to Hizdahr zo Loraq; all so one day Meereen might be peaceful enough for her to sail to Westeros. This waiting and begging chips at her sanity the same way it did Viserys.

Complicating Dany’s moral distaste for Meereen is the way she unintentionally perpetuates some of the worst aspects of the culture. As I broke down in a previous meta, Dany tortures prisoners en masse and allows the Shavepate to torture innocent children in front of their fathers. She also forces people into hard labor:

Xaro gave a languid shrug. “As it happens, when I came ashore in your sweet city, I chanced to see upon the riverbank a man who had once been a guest in my manse, a merchant who dealt in rare spices and choice wines. He was naked from the waist up, red and peeling, and seemed to be digging a hole.”

“Not a hole. A ditch, to bring water from the river to the fields. We mean to plant beans. The beanfields must have water.”

“How kind of my old friend to help with the digging. And how very unlike him. Is it possible he was given no choice in the matter? No, surely not. You have no slaves in Meereen.”

Dany flushed. “Your friend is being paid with food and shelter. I cannot give him back his wealth. Meereen needs beans more than it needs rare spices, and beans require water.”

Daenerys never says the man is a criminal, and only mentions that he lost his wealth when the spice trade collapsed. To me, this strongly suggests the man is not a criminal being punished for his crimes, but a newly poor man being exploited due to his lack of options. And previously in A Storm of Swords, Daenerys had already decided to collect taxes from the temporary slave trade.

Yet Daenerys does not seem to notice the voluntary choices she makes to compromise her morality, instead focusing on the choices the Sons of the Harpy and Hizdahr force on her. But the symbolism of Drogon makes it clear:

Drogon hunted far afield, but when he was sated he liked to bask in the sun at the apex of the Great Pyramid, where once the harpy of Meereen had stood.

And Daenerys even living in the Great Pyramid begins to disconnect her from the people she is supposed to represent; in A Storm of Swords, she thinks to herself how different it is for those in the pyramids:

The stars were coming out above, and the silk lanterns below, just as Kraznys’s translator had promised. The brick pyramids were all glimmer with light. But it is dark below, in the streets and plazas and fighting pits. And it is darkest of all in the barracks, where some little boy is feeding scraps to the puppy they gave him when they took away his manhood.

Daenerys’ men are slaughtered in the streets as she stays atop her pyramid with Daario, too impatient to hear the complaints of her people:

"As my queen commands. Will you hold court today?"

"No.”

Mother to Us All

Daenerys is torn between being a mother to her people or to her dragons; and while she grows more tired of her role as Queen and pulls closer to Daario, she is also starting to hate the Meereenese smallfolk she stayed to protect.

The reason Daenerys was able to temporarily overcome her love for her dragons and chain them is because of how much she also loves her people; from the moment they declared her Mhysa, it fundamentally changed the way she perceived the world. Because of Mirri Maz Duur, Dany believes she will never be able to have kids; and in the immediate aftermath of that revelation, she treated her dragons like they were her only chance to be a mother. But thousands of smallfolk chose her to be their mother, which offers Daenerys the choice to be something more. Being the mother of dragons is what she wants, but being mhysa is the right thing to do. At the end of A Storm of Swords, Daenerys didn’t realize it was a choice she had to make, and tried to be both; but once Hazzea dies and she is forced to choose, she makes the right decision by placing her people first. But, slowly throughout A Dance with Dragons, she comes to regret that choice for two reasons: she feels as if she can’t help the people, and then realizes she doesn’t want to.

As I discussed before, Daenerys has to make a series of compromises with the Sons of the Harpy and the Masters of Astapor and Yunkai to keep the peace; one of these compromises is locking Meereen’s gates and leaving the Astapori refugees to die:

They were her children, but she could not help them now.

Dany has to make so many decisions that harm huge amounts of smallfolk to keep what little peace she has made in Meereen, and starts to feel as if nothing matters. If Astapor and Yunkai have returned to slavery anyway, why should she make herself miserable in Meereen when she could take her dragons and fly to Westeros?

Even more than a feeling of hopelessness, though, it is Dany’s dislike of the Meereenese that makes her regret choosing them over her dragons:

Ten thousand throats roared out their thanks; then twenty thousand; then all. They did not call her name, which few of them could pronounce. “Mother!” they cried instead; in the old dead tongue of Ghis, the word was Mhysa! They stamped their feet and slapped their bellies and shouted, “Mhysa, Mhysa, Mhysa,” until the whole pit seemed to tremble. Dany let the sound wash over her. I am not your mother, she might have shouted, back, I am the mother of your slaves, of every boy who ever died upon these sands whilst you gorged on honeyed locusts.

As Queen, Daenerys feels like she is forced to only represent the Nobles of Meereen instead of the slaves she stayed behind to protect. Being made to attend the fighting pits and watch as smallfolk fight and die for the pleasure of the Masters is the final insult to Daenerys.

But even though Dany tells herself she is the mother of their slaves, in truth it is clear she doesn’t like them either:

Daenerys was sick unto death of Zhak and Merreq; she was sick of all the Mereenese, great and small alike.

She has become so disconnected with “her people” that it’s a joke to her when Daario calls her out on it:

“On the morrow I will be a woman wed, and Hizdahr will be king. Let him hold court. These are his people."

"Some are his, some are yours. The ones you freed."

"Are you chiding me?"

"The ones you call your children. They want their mother."

"You are. You are chiding me."

The idea of the slaves appeals to Daenerys much more than the reality. The complete love and adoration she felt when she rode through the screaming crowd at the end of A Storm of Swords is what she wanted from the Meereenese when she chose to stay behind, but in reality they aren’t always like that; they are poor people who just want better lives, and get angry with Daenerys when she gets in the way of that, such as when they line up to be repaid for their animals that Drogon killed. The only slaves that never lose hope in Dany as a savior are the ones who live in Astapor, desperately clinging to the hope that someone could come save them:

“Every day we told each other that the dragon queen was coming back.” The woman had thin lips and dull dead eyes, set in a pinched and narrow face. “Cleon had sent for you, it was said, and you were coming.”

And those are the people she must shut outside the gates, again making her feel like everything she does is meaningless. By the time she has married Hizdahr and is opening the fighting pits to negotiate peace with Yunkai, Daenerys can’t even remember why she stayed in Meereen:

“I suppose I must be thankful for small victories,” the queen said.

“One step, then the next, and soon we shall be running. Together we shall make a new Meereen.” The street ahead had finally cleared. “Shall we continue on?”

What could she do but nod? One step, then the next, but where is it I’m going?

I think this divide within Daenerys, of wanting to be a mother to her people while slowly growing to despise them, is fascinating to view through the lens of her relationship to Missandei:

"I would sooner stay with you. On Naath I'd be afraid. What if the slavers came again? I feel safe when I'm with you."

Safe. The word made Dany’s eyes fill up with tears. “I want to keep you safe.” Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. “No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys . . . I want to protect you but . . . it is so hard. To be strong. I don’t always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen . . . the . . . the. . .”

“. . . mother,” whispered Missandei.

“Mother to dragons.” Dany shivered.

“No. Mother to us all.” Missandei hugged her tighter.

Missandei is exactly what Daenerys wanted when she chose to stay in Meereen; a former slave who loves and adores her, and because she is Dany’s own scribe she gets to feel safe and cared for (unlike the unprotected slaves living in the city). Beyond that, Missandei allows Daenerys to vicariously fix her own childhood; so much of Dany’s hatred of slavery comes from her own experience being sold by Viserys to Khal Drogo, and Daenerys sees herself in Missandei. As Daenerys says in the above quote, once Ser Willem died, she had no one to ever protect or even care for her, and she wants to be the mother she never had to anyone who feels scared or afraid.

I think it’s so easy to forget because Daenerys was married and gave birth in the first book, and then goes on to lead an army and be Queen of a city, but she is still a child herself. During A Dance with Dragons, she’s roughly 15 or 16 years old - just a teenager - and yet she’s putting tremendous pressure on herself to be a mother to thousands of former slaves, while at the same time trying to build herself the childhood she never had. It’s no coincidence that she begins thinking of the house with the red door more often:

She had been dreaming of a house with a red door when Missandei woke her.

Dany had never known a home. In Braavos, there had been a house with a red door, but that was all.

This was done in Braavos, while we were living in the house with the red door. Why did that make her feel so strange?

She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door

Not since those half-remembered days in Braavos when she lived in the house with the red door had she been as happy.

I’m most interested by this dream she has, though:

"Is it Daario? What's happened?" In her dream they had been man and wife, simple folk who lived a simple life in a tall stone house with a red door.

This is the first time Daenerys has imagined a future with a red door; she has always wanted to return to the house in Braavos, but she’s never had dreams of what a future there could look like until this dream. And she pictures Daario as her husband living a simple life, even though she knows that is impossible:

I would give up my crown if he asked it of me, Dany thought. . . but he had not asked it, and never would. Daario might whisper words of love when the two of them were as one, but she knew it was the dragon queen he loved. If I gave up my crown, he would not want me.

This emphasizes that Dany will never be happy. She longs for and dreams of the house with a red door because it is an impossible reality - the one time in her life where she lived as a princess free of fear and responsibility. It’s the perfect childhood she almost had and then lost, and for the rest of her life she’s going to try and get it back. But the truth is it is lost forever; Daenerys is not the same young girl who wants peace and simplicity and nothing else, and the world will not allow her to be a carefree princess anymore. And if the red door is Dany’s ideal of lost childhood and innocence, Daario is the personification of her new dream of fire and blood and freedom from her moral misgivings. She dreams of both Daario and the red door together because they are the two things she wants most in the world; but they cannot possibly exist together. She can’t be a dragon queen who lives a simple life. At some point, she has to choose which future she wants, because she can have one but not the other.

I’ve decided to split this piece into two separate parts. As I said in my first post about A Dance with Dragons, I originally intended on three metas; the first two, about Dany’s political arc and relationships, I’ve already put out. But in writing about her personal journey, I realized it has two halves, and to do both justice I think they need separate posts. This piece is to cover the first half of her arc, up through the first nine chapters, and should highlight the huge choices she made in the first three chapters to give up on her dragons and Westeros to save her people, and then the next six chapters which test her resolve and make her regret those original choices. My next, and last, piece on Daenerys in A Dance with Dragons will solely focus on Daenerys X, when she decides to turn her back on Meereen and embrace her family and her dragons.

[sailorshadzter]

the wolf and the dragon.

part 3. 

you can read part 1 & part 2 here 

When Sansa wakes that first morning in Dragonstone, she finds a gown has been brought to her rooms. It hangs on a peg across the room from the bed and once she rises up from the blankets, she crosses the room to finger the whispering silk. The gown is of the palest blue, the neckline cut so very deep it would surely reach just above her navel, where there it met an intricately designed gold belt that would wrap her waist. The skirt was all soft pleats and every stitch was of delicate gold thread. Perhaps on another woman, it would be a lovely gown, but Sansa drew back from the gown with a roll of blue eyes, a smirk toying with her lips. Did Viserys truly think she would don such a garment, just to please him? She's reminded of Margaery though, such a gown would have looked lovely on her.

"He had that sent to your rooms at first light," it's Brienne, come in so quietly that Sansa had not even noticed her. Sansa turns, a frown replacing her smirk as she faces her sworn soldier. Brienne was without a doubt the only person in all of Dragonstone that she could trust, that she was certain would keep her safe. Sword or no sword, Brienne would rip even the man's dragons apart if it meant keeping her safe. "You aren't going to wear it, are you?"

"Of course not," Sansa remarks with a shake of her head. It's then that she turns to her trunk, brought in from her ship the night before, opening it as Brienne stokes the small fire in the hearth behind her. "This shall do," she murmurs to herself as she pulls a gray gown from the trunk, shaking it out. It's not as heavy of a gown as the one she'd worn the day before and she hopes it won't be too thick for the warmer Southern air.

When she finally dresses in her own gown and breaks her fast, she escapes her chambers and wanders through the halls of Dragonstone. It's a large castle, old and dusty from its long years of standing alone. Stannis Baratheon had lived in its walls for a time, but even that had been short lived and years ago. Sansa puts out a hand to touch the dragons carved into the stone wall, fingers tracing the outline of its scaled back.

"Beautiful, aren't they?"

She turns at the voice, surprised to see Viserys standing there at the end of the hall. He comes towards her, well dressed in a black doublet trimmed in Targaryen red. A three headed dragon pin is pinned over his heart. "They say this castle was built with magic," he continues as he comes to stand before her, his violet eyes meeting her blue. "Magic that made its walls strong and fearsome as the gargoyles that sit upon its outer walls." His hand slides down towards the head of the dragon, with its teeth barred.

"Beautiful is not quite the word I had in mind," Sansa admits to him, her words bringing an amused sort of smile to his face.

"No, I suppose no Northern girl can see the beauty in a creature such as a dragon." He inspects her then, Sansa can feel his hungry gaze taking in the sight of her. "Was the dress I sent to you not to your liking?" Sansa could feel the danger in his question and so she smiles, giving a small shake of her head.

"In truth, far from it." She decides honesty is the best policy- if she offends the so called king, then he will look foolish for throwing a fit. She tilts her head as she watches his face, ever intent on capturing the truth of his response no matter what his words said. Again she was met with that amused sort of smile, his violet eyes narrowing for a single moment- though, not from anger. But rather he regarded her closely, as one might inspect something of value. He was inspecting her like a possession.

"You're an honest woman... I like that." Viserys says a moment later, offering her his arm so they might finish strolling the castle. The young woman does not hesitate, much to his surprise, and Viserys finds himself wondering more about this self proclaimed queen. Her temperament was as fiery as her hair and Viserys wants to tame her. He wants to make her his as he had his dragons. "Though I must say that blue would have been lovely on you." Viserys is a man of fashion, Sansa knows this, and it's something she might even say they have in common. "You have the most beautiful hair, the blue would have complimented you well," he observes as they turn a corner, making their way towards the staircase that would lead down to the main floor of the castle.

"You're far too kind," she replies, ducking her head to hide that she's not blushing, but rather smiling. She can only hope that if he catches a glimpse he'll think she's smiling from pleasure, not mirth.

"And this is where I must take my leave of you," Viserys says as they come to stand before a chamber door, one which lead into the painted table room. His war room, Sansa knew it to be. "My lady," he raises her hand to press his lips to and she dips the quickest of curtsies, holding his gaze a moment longer. His eyes narrow ever so slightly but then he turns, disappearing into the room without even a backwards glance.

The moment he's gone, Sansa can't help but to breathe with relief.

[ x x x ]

She hates this place.

It's hot, humid, and it's not the North. Sansa never realized how much she truly loved her home, how much she loved Winterfell, until she was gone from its walls. Ice ran through her veins and even now she could feel it melting beneath her skin. She stands on the cliffside, overlooking the sea, wondering to herself what Jon was doing right then. Did he miss her as much as she missed him?

A moment later, she hears approaching footsteps and she turns, surprised to see Tyrion walking towards her. He comes to stand beside her in silence, his gaze following the same path hers and taken only moments before. "I came down here to brood over my failure to anticipate the Greyjoy attack," he says, reminding Sansa of the events of the day before. Yara Greyjoy's fleet had been attacked by Euron Greyjoy and the attack had nearly demolished them in entirety. Sansa felt the familiar twinge of pain as she thought of Theon, who she knew had sailed for his home after helping her to escape Ramsay's clutches. She knew not if he lived or died. "But I see you are here already."

"I'm a prisoner on this island," she blurts without warning, turning to face the man she once called husband. Tyrion looks uncomfortable as he fumbles with his words, saying that he wouldn't call her such a thing. "I am a prisoner here as I was once a prisoner of Joffrey in King's Landing, as I was once a prisoner in my own home at Winterfell," Sansa spits, venom in her eyes and her tone. "You say I am free to walk the castle, to walk wherever I please. But I am unable to return to my ship, for you have stolen it from me."

"I wouldn't say we stole it from you-" Tyrion begins, his tone good natured, as if he means to placate her.

"I'm not playing word games with you." She snaps, interrupting him. "The dead are coming." She says with earnest, turning back to face the little man. "Perhaps they are already there and I am here, far away from my home and my family."

"Why don't you find out what to do about my missing fleet and murdered allies and I shall find out what to do about your army of the dead." Tyrion speaks, this time with more force, his tone bringing her gaze to his face.

"It's hard for me to fathom, it truly is... If someone told me about the white walkers, about the Night King..." She pauses, shaking her head before she turns away once more, sapphire gaze lingering on the roaring sea below them. For several seconds there is nothing but silence between them, the only sound that of the waves crashing against the rocks below, until she sighs. "You probably don't believe me."

Tyrion surprises her when he speaks. "I do, actually." Sansa turns back to him with widened eyes, a brow arching in her surprise. "I know your brother, Jon Snow. He is as noble as your father and thus, incapable of lying." Sansa can't help but to smile, knowing this to be true. "I trust the eyes of an honest man more than what everyone else claims to know." He's come closer to her now, so close they are just an arm's length apart.

"How do I convince people who don't know Jon... Who don't know me?" Misery is settling in. She's fearful that she's fighting a losing battle here and Viserys Targaryen will forever be her keeper.

"People's minds aren't meant for problems so large," Tyrion replies with a shrug, as if they speak of something mundane, not the lives of everyone in Westeros. "White walkers... The Night King... The army of the dead... It's almost a relief to confront a comfortable monster like my sister."

Sansa sighs, shaking her head. "I need to go home. I need to help prepare my people for what's coming." She thinks of Jon and how tirelessly he must be working to prepare the North for the battle that lingers ahead. Any given moment, the dead could be upon them, and she would be here. "I want to go home." She finishes, softer than the other words, speaking the honest truth from the depths of her heart.

"Something tells me you were not chosen as Queen in the North simply for being your father's daughter," Tyrion's words bring her head back, surprise yet again taking root in her sapphire eyes. "Are you to give up so easily?"  No, she shakes her head, of course not. "Viserys Targaryen is not so inclined to go to war against anyone for a girl from the North that he barely even knows." Tyrion goes on and Sansa blinks, a new thought coming into her mind as she stands there in the afternoon sun. "Perhaps if you got to know him as I do, you too might see why he will be a good king. Perhaps you might even be able to work together so you both get what you want." He offers her a smile before he takes a step back and turns away, walking the same path that had led him down to the cliff's edge. Sansa watches him as he goes, until he disappears from her line of sight. Overhead, one of the dragon's shrieks as it streaks across the sky, reminding Sansa of the king that sits inside the castle behind her.

All this time, perhaps she had been tackling things in the entirely wrong way.

[ x x x ]

"You need not do this, my lady."

Brienne's vocals are full of discontent, her eyes sweeping her lady up and down, taking in the sight of her in the blue gown. It was true, the gown fit Sansa in a way that none of her own did- the pale blue color complimented her vibrant red hair and brought a warmth to her ivory skin. But it was not a gown her lady would ever wear- even in her time in King's Landing, she had never dressed in such a way. This was a gown cut for a Targaryen queen, not a Northern one.

"I have to," Sansa says softly, staring at her reflection in the looking glass. She knows everything rides upon this alliance with the Targaryen king and if pleasing his ego in this way was the only way, then so be it. "I am still me, Brienne." She says this more to herself than to her sworn shield, though she's frowning when she turns to face her. "I will do anything to protect the North." Brienne holds her gaze for a long moment but then nods, swallowing down what other words she thought she might say.

Together, the two women make their way down to the main hall, turning a corner to face the double doors that will lead into the war room. Sansa gives Brienne the briefest of nods before she reaches up to knock, three short knocks that alert those within the room of her arrival. It is Mossador that opens it, giving her a quick bow before he steps aside, allowing her and Brienne entrance to the room.

Viserys' feels his breath catch at the sight of the woman when she steps into the room, her appearance catching him off guard to say the least. The proud Northern lady had set aside her black gowns and furs for the blue and gold gown he'd sent to her room days before; she wore it as well as he had known she would. Viserys can't help but to allow his gaze to linger upon the young woman's chest, the swell of her breasts barely contained behind the thin blue silk. "Lady Stark, you look... Beautiful." Viserys says, coming around the side of the table to stand before her, taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. His lips linger far too long on her knuckles but she smiles prettily, silently thanking her mother for her every lesson on courtsey, silently thanking her years in King's Landing that taught her to mind her face in every moment of every day. "It was as I said, the gown is quite lovely on you."

At once, he's Joffrey, full of flattery that is more for his own benefit than hers. Viserys is pleased in knowing he was right and therefore, he's happy with her. Sansa smiles and dips him a quick curtsy before he steps away, returning to the seat he's just vacated. "You've joined us at a most opportune time, Tyrion, go on then." Viserys gives his hand a wave, indicating for the small man to continue on with his thought that Sansa's arrival had interrupted.

"I was saying... Your grace, my lady," Tyrion shoots her a pointed glance but Sansa looks away, instead focusing her gaze upon the great map that's carved into the table they stand around. It is a map of all of Westeros and at once, her gaze falls upon the North. "If we were to retrieve one of these White Walkers... One of these wights you speak of, it will prove their existence to not only his grace, but to my sister Cersei, as well." Now Sansa's eyes are on him and their gaze is sharp.  "If this enemy is as great as you say they are, we will need an alliance. My sister will not believe in stories, but she will believe if you bring it to her."

Brienne scoffs from where she stands, looking over Sansa's shoulder. "You expect who to do this?" She asks, swinging her gaze from Tyrion to the king and then back to Tyrion. "You surely cannot expect that she-" Sansa holds up a hand, silencing her sword shield, focusing her blue eyes upon the king that sits across from where she stands.

"A team will be provided for you, of course." Tyrion continues, his voice drawing Sansa's attention back to him. "And the king will remain close, with a dragon, should you fall into trouble."

"This is a suicide mission!" Brienne scowls, shaking her head.

"Fine," Sansa interrupts, giving a nod. It was as she had always said, always thought... She would do anything to protect the North. Even this. "I will go with this team of yours, even just to the Wall." She glances at Brienne who looks as if she would strangle Tyrion Lannister where he stood, but she smiles upon her, softening the scowl Brienne wore. "But when we have secured the alliance with Cersei, I would like to return home." She returns her attention to Viserys, who sits up a little straighter in his chair. "Winterfell will serve as the best place to fight back. It will prevent the Night King from spreading further into Westeros if we stop him there in the North." If nothing else, this would secure her return home before the fight begun.

It takes several long, silent moments before Viserys nods.

But that was all she needed. That was all she wanted. She would be home again. Oh, it would be so sweet to be home again. It would be so sweet to see Jon again.

[lj-todd]

PROMPT: Daenerys, Aegon and the Essos gang invade Westeros and happily go a-claiming. Aegon is having the worst day until the Dothraki bring him the loveliest present: a very disgruntled Jon Snow.

(Okay, Nonnie, so for this piece it’s AU where Aegon grew up with Daenerys and Viserys and invaded with them and their combined forces. Also went a A/B/O theme. Hope you like it.)Aegon had been raised, alongside his uncle and aunt, exiled from their home, from the kingdom that was rightfully theirs. He had been raised, educated by Lord Connington and a Septa, knowing that his birthright had been stolen. Raised knowing that, one day, he would march an army across the Narrow Sea and take back his grandfather’s throne.He might have been raised knowing it, believing it, but that did not mean the young Alpha was truly ready when, after seventeen years, the invasion finally happened. His aunt had, through her marriage to the formidable Khal Drogo, secured an army of Dothraki and, through her own cunning, had acquired an army of Unsullied warriors while Aegon had, with help from Connington, gained the loyalty of the Golden Company.Their army was massive and, when they crossed, invading the Stormlands, the Westerosi who thought to stand against them were greatly unprepared for the army they would face. The Stormlands fell within a month.It sickened Aegon to be the cause of the slaughter of so many men. So many families ripped apart and their homes burned or ransacked. These were people he meant to rule, who he wanted to support and love him, but this, he knew, watching as Drogon, the largest of his aunt’s dragons, burned another field, was not the way to do it.

When the North marched, answering Robert Baratheon’s call, Aegon wondered if his father had ever felt this conflicted about battle. About war and death and killing. For all that Aegon was an Alpha he took no delight in violence or aggression. He understood both were part of life, to be dealt out as needed, but he would have preferred sieges over all out battle. Less bloodshed. Less senseless death. Starving soldiers were easily bought with coin or food. It was a lesser evil.The sixth month of the war came and the Reach had fallen to them. Not through bloody conflict but because House Tyrell had always been Targaryen loyalists. Even when Robert had claimed the throne, Lady Oleanna had secretly plotted, along with House Martell, to see to the return of Targaryen rule. But only, she claimed in a meeting with Aegon and Daenerys, if the right Targaryen could be placed on the throne. The Lady of High Garden declared the pair to be the right Targaryens, even if the child Daenerys carried was half Dothraki.It was at the Reach’s northern border that Aegon would truly be tested.The day was wet and miserable and the forces of the North had barely been beaten back, commanded by Lord Eddard’s eldest son who, if rumors were to be believed, was half wolf. The young Lord Robb had yet to truly lose a battle, had proven himself a capable commander, and it was beginning to grate on Aegon’s nerves.Their supply train had been ambushed. Minimal casualties. Minor loss of supplies. And two of his aunt’s Dothraki guard had chased after those responsible. He had not expected them to return, a young man, perhaps a year younger than himself, bound and held between them. When he questioned why, one of the men handed him a silver, wolf head broach.“He was wearing this,” the warrior explained in broken Common. “And one of the men we killed called him Stark.”That, Aegon admitted, fingers curling tightly around the broach, was unexpected.He looked at the young man, dark haired and with pale grey eyes, and imagined this was what Lord Eddard might have looked like as a young man.“Leave us,” Aegon ordered, turning the broach over between his fingers. “I wish to speak with Lord Stark alone.”The warriors nodded and, with a warning look at the bound prisoner, did as they were commanded. One setting what was likely the young man’s sword, the pommel shaped like a white wolf head, against the foot of Aegon’s bed before departing.“I apologize for the hospitality, or rather the lack of it,” Aegon said, gesturing towards one of the rickety chairs by the makeshift table. Waiting until the young man sat, setting the broach aside in favor of picking up a cloth. “This is not how I wanted to take back my grandfather’s throne.”The young man said nothing, hissing though when he pressed the cloth to his cut, twitching slightly but, otherwise, allowing the would-be-king to tend to his injury.Aegon drew a deep breath as he cleaned the young Stark’s wound only to still completely. Certain he had misscented the other. He inhaled deeply again, eyelids fluttering slightly, and let out a surprised sound.“You are an Omega,” the Alpha breathed, stepping back a pace, looking down at those pale eyes in surprise. What sort of man allowed his Omega son to ride into battle?“You were expecting maybe a chicken?” The young man quipped and Aegon couldn’t help the way his lips quirked. An almost smile gracing his face.“Do all Stark Omegas fight in war?”“I’m not a Stark.”Aegon blinked. Glancing quickly at the broach and back.“But…”“My name is Jon Snow,” the young man explained quietly. “I’m Ned Stark’s son.”Snow. A bastard. Did Lord Stark know? Did he know his Omega son, bastard or not, had ridden into war? Had been put in such danger? Surely not. No Lord would allow their Omega child, bastard or not, to be risked like that.“Don’t look at me like that,” Jon said and Aegon blinked. “I’m an Omega. Not a child.”“I meant no…”“You’ll get no ransom for me, if that was what you were thinking,” the Omega continued. “I’m a bastard, remember?”“And yet you carried a broach with House Stark’s sigil,” Aegon pointed out and Jon huffed a quiet laugh.“A gift,” the Omega explained. “From my sister, Sansa. To protect me in battle she said.” He shook his head, smiling softly. “Lord Commander Mormont’s sword has been better protection.”Aegon glanced at the sword and, curious, fetched it. Surprised to find the blade was Valyrian steel and, when he questioned Jon about it he was even further surprised to learn that Mormont had gifted it to Jon after the young Omega had saved the man’s life during a raid beyond the Wall a year earlier.“I was visiting my uncle,” Jon explained, looking at the sword as Aegon carefully set it on the table. “Was thinking of joining the Watch, serving as Starks have done for a thousand years. But Maester Aemon convinced me, after I saved Lord Mormont, that there was more in the world for me to see than a frozen wall at the arse end of the world.”“Aemon Targaryen?”“Yes.” Jon smiled. “He was kind to me. A gentle soul. He gifted me the sword that’s currently strapped to the saddle of my horse back at camp. Said it would serve me as it had served his uncle.”“A sword?” Aegon glanced across the tent to where he had left his own blade, Blackfyre, gifted to him by Harry Strickland after the Golden Company had joined him. “Could it be…”He jerked as Jon, trying to take advantage of his distraction, surged upwards, lunging for his sword, but the Alpha reacted quicker, tackling the Omega, who snarled and struggled. They rolled across the ground, knocking a chair over, sending something else crashing over as well, but Aegon’s focus was on pinning the squirming Northerner.Catching hold of the rope binding Jon’s wrists, he pinned the Omega’s hands above his head, pushing the bulk of his weight down on the slender Northerner, effectively trapping him while growling sharply. An Alpha sound cutting through the air, through the Omega’s struggles, like a whip.“Stop,” Aegon rumbled, leaning down, chest brushing against Jon’s with every ragged, panting breath they took. “Just…Just stop, Jon.”The Omega let out a low sound, struggling a moment longer, trying to buck Aegon off, and the Alpha reacted more out of instinct than anything else.He leaned in and, in a move that surprised them both, kissed the Omega.It was far from a gentle kiss, Jon’s struggles resulting in Aegon’s lips catching on the Omega’s teeth, bloodying it, and Jon bucking again before going still beneath him.Most surprising, Aegon found, was when Jon kissed back. It made him rumble again, made him break the kiss suddenly in order to rub his cheek against Jon’s neck, scenting him, marking him so all others would know Aegon had already laid a claim on the Northern Omega. Jon keened beneath him, responding to the dominate display, and Aegon lifted his head, thinking of more, of taking what the Omega was offering when Jon spread his legs, only to growl sharply, head jerking around, as the tent flap suddenly lifted and Connington’s voice sound.“Aegon?! Aegon what’s going…”“Out!” Aegon snarled. “Now!”Connington stood there, seemingly frozen in place, and Aegon moved, climbing to his feet, taking the older Alpha’s refusal to leave as a challenge, his instincts and adrenaline burning through him, and it was only when Daenerys appeared at the man’s side, that Aegon seemed able to remember himself.“What is going on,” Daenerys demanded, hand resting on the heavy swell of her belly, no doubt having come to check on him despite the protests of her handmaidens. And those of her husband. “Aegon?” She spotted Jon on the ground, the Omega blinking up at her, still dazed likely from what had just happened and, for a Beta, her growl sounded very much like an Alpha. She spat something in Dothraki, an insult or curse, and moved forward, shoving by her nephew and, despite her condition, helped Jon to stand.“This is not how we do things,” the Khaleesi snapped, guiding Jon to the edge of the bed, brushing his hair back to examine his once again bleeding wound. “We are not animals, Aegon!”“I…” Aegon did not know what to say in the face of his aunt’s fury and he looked at Jon, who was staring at him, not with disgust or hate but something that looked an awful lot like desire. It fanned the flames of his own desire and he wisely held his tongue, letting his aunt play the diplomat, which she was quite talented at, and merely watched Jon.All the while knowing, one way or the other, he and the Northern Omega would be together. He would take the young man as his mate. Make him King Consort of Westeros. Bring the North once more under Targaryen rule not through fire and blood but with the promise a future.

[poetdameron]

small bump | jonerys [got] fic | jonerys week

Title: Small Bump Characters/Pairings: Jon/Dany Rating: M Spoilers/Warnings: Mild Sexual Content, modern AU, angst, Implied Miscarriage Word Count: ~3,085 Summary: When Dany and Jon left their apartment that morning, she already knew they'll get bad news. A/N: I almost didn't post this piece. It became too personal, but my brother encouraged me to post it anyway. Check the notes for why it was so difficult for me to finish and post this. This was wrote for Jonerys Week, day 4: Angst.

AO3 | Read on my blog:

Small Bump

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

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

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

Jon Snow’s body was ridiculous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do. We fought.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” He said.

“The we should keep trying.” She concluded.

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

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

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

“It’s just...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded.

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“So…?”

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

**