#there's many fates characters and ships (platonic and romantic) I want to draw to satisfy my brainworms but school is stopping me...

[violet-traitor]

mitama/rhajat sketch I felt like drawing. she's sleepung bc I'm tired (and should go to sleep)

[lowkeyenvy]

The Dragon and the Wolf

Synopsis:  My take on the events, thoughts, and feelings from Jon and Dany’s point of view leading up to and during boatsex. Author: Lowkeyenvy Characters: Jon Snow x Daenerys Targaryen Words: 1,662 Warnings: eventual nsfw Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. All rights and credits are to HBO and GRRM. Author’s Note: If you enjoy this first installment and would like to be tagged in future installment, send me a message!

Also—constructive criticism is welcomed! However, hateful and disrespectful comments/messages that are directed towards the ship will be blocked and/or deleted.

Happy reading! :)

                                                         JON I

Jon stood on the top deck of the ship, the Targaryen sigil fluttering in the wind above him. He gazed out at sea for quite some time. His eyes would flicker every so often to the black sails above him, the three heads of the dragon taunting him. All he wanted to do was go below deck and speak to Daenerys. It did not matter what the subject was, he just wanted to hear her voice. No, that was a lie. It wasn’t even that he wanted to speak with her—he just wanted to see her. He wondered if she wanted to see him too.

The view was always breathtaking. That of the sea, of course. The sea was truly something to behold. It almost felt safe. His thoughts went back to what Euron Greyjoy had said at the dragon pit. The dead couldn’t swim. He shook the thought away just as quickly as it had come. With the dead came winter. Winter would freeze the seas and the dead would cross. There was nowhere safe in the world. He knew this.

As he continued to stare out over the sea, he found that he was at war with himself. Why was he thinking about safety? No one was safe. No one would ever be safe again unless they defeated the army of the dead. And yet, he found himself longing for it. He wanted Arya and Sansa and Bran to be safe. He didn’t want them to fight this war. He wanted her to be safe.

Jon let out a deep groan of frustration. An image flashed in his mind of the Night King piercing the heart of another one of the dragons with an ice spear. This image was a horrific sight in its own, only Daenerys was on this dragon, and she fell with it.

Perhaps he ought to just forget this entire ordeal. They weren’t past the point of no return. Not yet. The two of them could keep a strictly platonic relationship of alliance and trust. He and Daenerys would work together to defeat the Night King. After, he could return to Winterfell under the title of Warden of the North while she went South to finish her war for the iron throne. This sounded like a suitable plan. If only another image hadn’t flashed in his mind, this one of Cersei striking Daenerys down.

The images of her possibly being hurt seemed to be seared into his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the images would not leave him.

He was a fool. Since he had met the Dragon Queen, she was all he could think about. His thoughts that were once consumed with ways of how to defeat the dead were no match for her. He had never met anyone who had had such an effect upon him. Of course, he’d been in love once before. A love that he would never forget. But Daenerys was different. She was unlike anyone he’d ever met.

Not three moons ago he would have thought the notion of himself falling in love again with anyone so significantly, entirely absurd. Yet here he stood, practically obsessing over this woman. A queen, nonetheless. His queen.

The pair spent a great amount of time in one another’s company since he first arrived on Dragonstone. For Jon, Daenerys was a breath of fresh air. He was completely and utterly intoxicated by her. For the first time in a long while, he found himself genuinely interested in something that had nothing to do with the Night King or the dead. Her ambition and resilient nature was truly contagious. She was independent and strong. She’s beautiful. But above all, her good heart is what reeled him in.

Unlike many in her house, Daenerys didn’t appear to inherit the insane tendencies that plagued her father and brother. She had though, inherited some of her father’s ruthlessness. But in the world they lived in, sometimes this was a necessary trait to display.

Jon felt his stomach clench unpleasantly. It would take an entire fortnight to arrive at White Harbor. This was only the first night of their journey and he was already debating on if he should seek out her presence or not. He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. The war for the dawn didn’t mix with romantic relationships. He was going to die fighting this war. Deep down, he believed this. Or worse, she would die. And he would lose her. The images returned.

Thankfully, Jon was ripped from his thoughts as he heard footsteps approach from behind him. He was almost hopeful of who they belonged to. However, he frowned disappointedly as Lord Tyrion moved forward to a space beside him.

“You didn’t come for supper?” Tyrion asked.

“I wasn’t hungry,” his voice was even and detached.

Tyrion stepped further forward until he was at the edge of the boat. He gazed far out into the black night. The smell of salt filling his nostrils as the waves silently crashed against the ship. “Our Queen was expecting you.”

Our Queen.

For the first time, Jon looked at Tyrion. She was expecting him for supper. Was she still expecting him? The thought tormented him. Still, he said nothing.

“What troubling thoughts could possibly plague the mind of a man who just got the ultimate alliance to save the entire world?”

Jon shook his head, “it’s not about the alliances we made today,” it was about the one he had already made.

Tyrion didn’t respond. Instead, the two stood in silence for some time, as they shared the view of the sea as darkness continued to cover it.

Alas, it was Tyrion who broke the silence, “do you want my advice?”

Jon turned warily towards him. He gave him a stiff nod that was barely visible.

“Go below deck, to your cabin,” Jon swore he heard an emphasis on your cabin in the little lord’s voice, “stay there, and get some rest. You’re going to need all the rest you can get.”

The thoughts of conflict resurfaced almost instantaneously. Tyrion said that Daenerys was expecting him for supper. She must’ve been disappointed when he didn’t show. He had to go see her now. He had to apologize for this. No—that was just another excuse so he could see her. But if he could just see her for a moment tonight, just one moment, he would be satisfied.

Jon opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for words that would not seem to come to him. His eyes met Tryion’s and he stared at him. Tyrion’s gaze bored into him and for a moment Jon felt certain that he was inside his mind, combing through his thoughts. Jon at last, looked away from him.

He met Tyrion’s eye for one last fleeting moment before he turned away.

Jon let out a deep breath as he disappeared out of Tryion’s sight. His message was loud and clear; do not do it.

He did not care. He wanted to, but he just didn’t. He wanted to heed Tryion’s advice and stay away, but it was much too late for that.

Swiftly, he returned to his cabin, throwing the door open. He removed his winter coat and laid it on the bed. He bundled his hands up into fists and pressed them firmly into the mattress as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of everything.

He remembered the first time he saw Daenerys, how she was not at all what he was expecting. He remembered them in the cave at Dragonstone and how she stared in fascination at the dragonglass and drawings. He remembered the way she looked at him when he bid her farewell to set sail to Eastwatch. He remembered how she had come to his aid when he needed it most…

It was there that their fate was sealed indefinitely. Jon had watched in amazement as Daenerys was mounted on one of her dragons, the other two on either side of her. She was clad all in white, her breath was white as well. But her eyes were violet, her long braid the color of silver. Her cheeks flushed from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon had seen a sight so lovely.

When she reached her arm out to him, it was in that moment, he knew he loved her.

He loved her. Jon opened his eyes, as if he was realizing it for the first time.

The way she had looked at him when they agreed to sail together… her almost coy smile… a looking of knowing.

No more hesitating, Jon decided, no more hesitating.

Jon turned quickly on his heel and with shaking hands, he pulled open the door to his cabin. Excitement was coursing through his veins. Though it was more than that… he was nervous.

He reached her door and came to a stop. He stood there, staring at the Targaryen sigil, this time engraved into the door. The dragons taunting him once more, daring him to come inside. He closed his hand into a fist and raised it slowly, but halted. What if she doesn’t feel the same? The thought echoed in his mind.

He stood up taller and shook the thought away, no more hesitating.

He gave the door three knocks and waited. It felt like an eternity, but the door opened within a few seconds.

Jon took in the sight of her and it felt as if a fire had been ignited inside him. He watched her, unable to blink as he took in her features. They did not look surprised or reluctant.

They gazed at each other for a brief moment, not a single word exchanged.

She pushed the door open further, inviting him in.

He stepped inside and stood at her side. His eyes found hers once more as he gently closed the door.

No more hesitating…