CHAPTER 10

When they made love it was passionate, their skin seemed to melt into each other. It differed to the carnal way Khal Drogo had made love to her in the hot open air. It was more a meeting of hearts and minds with Jon, rather than the animalistic passion her husband had brought out in her. She'd loved Drogo deeply, so deeply that she had believed herself incapable of ever loving again. Drogo was an alpha-male, he had dominated all those around him, including her. In her youth, Dany had accepted it without question. It was not until after his death that she truly found that she had her own voice, and discovered her true self.

Jon had always looked to her as an equal, and revered her as his queen. Their love and love-making were based more on a mutual respect, conversation, and an undeniably powerful pull of attraction that bonded them. Their bodies fit together perfectly, as if made for each other alone, and whenever the door shut to their chamber she could be more herself with him than she had ever been with anyone. He made her happy in ways she had thought impossible.

This night he'd been different though. She'd seen it earlier in the day, something worried him. He'd avoided coming to their chamber until so very late into the night. She could see he had tried to push it aside when near her, but even when they had made love, something dark hovered within the passion that had not been there before.

"I need to know what it is." She said to him, as she lay with her head on his heart listening to it beat.

"What do you mean?" Jon answered.

"Something disturbs you. You're harbouring something." Dany said.

He should have been surprised that she was asking, but he knew it had been impossible to hide the emotional impact his day had upon him. His hand ran through her hair, the white strands like a jewel from the stars flowing in threads between his fingers. It would be unbearable to keep it from her, he knew. She had always brought out something in him that made him want to give himself absolutely to her, and with this it would be no different.

"Something was revealed to me today, that I must share with you." He said lowly before confessing, "I don't know how."

She tilted her head to look at him as he spoke.

He continued, "I worry you will look differently upon me, or feel differently towards me. That you will no longer want me." He said, morbidly, his face showing his pain.

She looked across at her own hand which lay upon his chest and couldn't imagine what he would say that could possibly make her want to give him up. She sat up, so she could better see his eyes, critically reading them. The dark pools revealed nothing but torment. The pain he was in swallowed her, as his hands cupped her face and they shared a kiss, one which spoke his passion and his fear. She felt afraid in a way that she hadn't known since she'd had to leave him behind north of the wall, at the time believing he would die.

"You must tell me now." She demanded. "You're worrying me so."

His face twitched as he fought to find the words. "Bran spoke to me today of a gift he has discovered." He began.

"A power which allows him to visit history, to see moments as they unfolded in past times. He told me who my mother was." He spoke matter-of-factly, as if detached from the moment and reached over to touch her fingers, tracing her knuckles absently as he spoke.

Her eyes were darting between his, reading his face as best she could. This news should have been joyful. She knew Jon had always longed to know, but it was stressing him in a way she could not understand, and it was therefore distressing her.

"I shall start as Bran did." He said. "Ned Stark is not my father."

"Go on." She said, twisting her hand beneath his, so it may hold it tight.

"He was in truth my uncle. His sister Lyanna was my mother." He finished.

She could feel where this was going, having been told the story since childhood of Lyanna's kidnapping and the carnage which followed. It was a bleak tale that underpinned her life in exile.

"And you father?" She said, encouragingly, already realising the truth.

He took a breath before speaking, and slowly let it out. "Was your brother, Rhaegar." He said.

"And you fear that, because you are my brother's son, I will reject you? She said, plainly.

"Yes." He said, his sadness inescapable.

"Is there a law in Westeros which prohibits an aunt from being with a nephew?" She asked.

"No, there is no law against it." He shook his head as he spoke, his dark curls bobbing as he did so.

She reached for a curl and twisted it around her finger, its blackness stark against her pale skin. "You know Targaryen's would be happy for it. They married siblings for generations to keep bloodlines pure. Even the small amount of blood we share would be felicitous to our ancestors." She said, trying to sooth his woe.

"It is no doubt why my children accept you as they do. They smell my blood stirring within you, fuelling your core. It will be why they allow you to ride them without me." She smiled.

"So, you don't mind?" He said hopefully.

"I believe I don't care at all." She smiled again, as she kissed him.

It was still there, that turmoil, she felt it fester within him still and it now worried her even more.

"What is it? Is there something else? She asked.

He nodded, and shifted himself upon the bed, to kneel before her. Her heart beat rapidly in response, she could sense this was the true revelation, the words he did not wish to say. The moment she perhaps now wished would not come. He took her hands in his and lay his head upon them, before looking up to her, his eyes peering up from beneath his worried brow. It was impossible not to feel his deep desire, that she not abandon him.

"There's a book, Sam brought with him from the citadel." He said.

Jon didn't want to say the words, but he could see the fear he was creating in his love, she held her breath as she waited for his words. "A maester recorded the annulment of Rhaegar's marriage, and it records his marriage to Lyanna." His eyes did not leave her face as he spoke.

She gasped a quick almost inaudible inward breath, blinked and slowly pushed herself away from him, climbing from the bed her silver hair fell forward and brushed his hands, trailing away with her movement like starlight unable to be caught. He crawled across the bed towards her.

"It needn't change anything between us." He pleaded.

She raised her palms towards him, her fingers splayed and shook her head. "So, you say you are legitimate, that you are Rhaegar's true heir?" Her voice crackled as she spoke, her mind struggling to comprehend the words, although she spoke them herself.

He swung his legs around underneath himself and stood to step towards her. The firelight behind him, making his usually pale skin take on a dark ominous shadow. The sight of him naked would typically make her move towards him, without conscious thought. Instead, she took an instinctive step backwards.

"I am saying nothing need change." He said. "The iron throne is of no concern to me, it will no longer exist if we do not defeat the Night King. My only focus, my one desire, is to defeat the Night King." He pleaded.

Her hands raised further, her palms still facing him as if shielding her from his words.

"And if there were no Night King?" She said severely, almost spitting the words with venom.

"But there is." He insisted. "There is a Night King, and with him a vast army of the dead. You have seen it. There are wights, and white walkers and we are here, together, you and me at Winterfell and we must defeat them."

She gasped in shock at the sudden sound of banging on the door, and reached for a dressing gown whilst eyeing Jon suspiciously as he rushed to grab one himself and flung open the door.

"Excuse me my lord, but you must come at once to the northern-most tower! The Hound insists. I fear there is something unnatural out there." The guard said anxiously.

"Awake Lord Tyrion." Dany instructed, her tone immediately regal and authoritative, as she made to get dressed.

Sansa struggled to keep up with Sandor as he climbed the steep stone steps of the north-eastern tower of the castle. The treads had shiny hollows worn into them from hundreds of years of boots falling in precisely the same place upon the narrow stair. Sandor took them in twos, his long legs making the task effortless, whilst Sansa hurriedly ran behind him, hindered by her skirts. When she reached the top, she saw him already looking out over the ramparts, his face tense and bleak.

"Is the light still there? She asked.

"Yes." He said, his voice a tone deeper that its usual gravelly low. "Only brief flashes, but it is there."

"What the fuck are the cunt watchmen doing?" He said, suddenly angry. "Bastard sons of whores drinking or fucking on the job! How is it no-one saw this?"

It was not long before they heard hurried footsteps upon the stairs.

"What is it?" Jon said breathlessly, as he charged on to the rooftop, his cloak flapping behind him like a dark foreboding bird of prey.

"Look for yourself." Sandor replied, pointing out into the blackness.

At first when Jon looked out he did not see it, but then just as he was about to say so, it appeared; bright blue light, flashing in streaks.

"It's him?" Jon questioned. His heart pounded in his chest, he knew from fear and not his climb.

"Yes, I think so." Sandor replied.

"Fuck." Jon said quietly.

"FUCK indeed." Sandor confirmed loudly, as he turned to see who it was who was now making their way up the stairs.

Dany swept on to the roof, Tyrion hurrying behind her with his tunic sloppily pulled on and his hair messed from sleep. He carried his cloak and was hastily throwing it around his shoulders.

"What's going on? Dany asked.

"The Night King. We think we see Viseron's flame. It must be many, many miles away, but it is there nonetheless." Jon told her.

Dany looked confused, and rushed to lean on the rough stone rampart. "My children don't hunt at night." She said, as she looked out and saw for herself.

"Perhaps the cold, his death changed him?" She mused. "He is not as he was." She declared, the sorrow scored her voice.

"How long have you seen the light?" She asked.

"Half an hour at least." Sandor replied. "We'd ridden to the hot pools and were coming back."

"Have someone wake Bran." Jon ordered. "We need to know how far away he is, and whether he has started exploring ahead of his army?"

"It could be further away than we think. The blackness of the night could carry the light to us." Sansa hoped. She pulled at the hem of her sleeve as she spoke, unable to disguise her nerves.

"Viseron may have tired of hovering above the army, of being constrained by the king." Dany said hopefully, "He may have left the king. It is not unusual for them to disappear for days at a time when they wish to hunt. They are no tame pet."

"But they return of their own volition?" Jon stated more than asked.

"Always." Dany said definitively.

The group stood together watching for another hour without conversation, Jon could feel Dany's eyes upon him at times as the cold took bites at their faces. They gathered in front of a newly lit brazier as gum sparked and the flame struggled to release any real heat. The startling blue light consumed their thoughts as they watched it eventually abate.

"Have a guard stationed here every night, all night." Jon said to a soldier. "I want to know the moment it is seen again." Jon instructed.

"What do we do now?" Sansa asked as they all headed for the stairs.

"Nothing. We wait for Bran to tell us what he knows, and we pray." Jon said, looking to Dany.

She nodded her head. "Yes, we pray we can defeat this creature, this king who threatens all we have built." She said, as she reached her hand out to Jon.

"I will have a meeting with you at first light, Lord Tyrion, bring Jorah." She said. "There is something Jon and I must discuss with you both."

"As you wish, your grace." Tyrion said, bobbing his head in a slight bow, as he gladly returned to his bed.

The night enveloped Jon, its achromatic gloom matching his thoughts. Dany appeared to be at ease with the news he had revealed. She had declared her support for the cause and taken him by the hand as they left the rooftop, but she'd barely had a moment to consider it properly. He was her nephew, and in time she may decide he was not to be trusted. Between that worry and the sighting of the blue light, this would not be a night that sleep would beckon him. He carefully rolled over, as the bed groaned beneath him. His muscles begged to be stretched and shifted fully but although he felt sure Dany slept, he was certain her own brooding would hamper its depth.

He was relieved when there was a knock at the door, it was sure to bring word from Bran and he could at last stand and move freely.

He opened it, and looked eagerly at the servant. "What news from Bran?" Jon said.

"My lord, the dragon hunts alone, although it eats nothing. It kills for the sake of killing. The army continues its slow march. My lord Brandon thinks they will be at our walls within ten days, maybe less." The man spoke with a calm countenance, his eyes betraying his fear.

Looking at him, Jon felt the oppressive responsibility of his role. So many people relied on him for their safety; common folk, nobles and soldiers alike, and it was a heavy burden to carry. He felt as though it were he who had brought this war south of the wall. That was not the truth of course, the war was coming whether Jon conveyed the news of it or not.

"Take my thanks to Bran please." Jon said.

"At once." The man replied, turned sharply on his heel and left.

Dany's arm extended out from under the covers. "Come back to bed." She said, reaching for him. "You must sleep now. Your days are so long.

He went to her and pulled her close, but he knew there would be no sleep for him.

"We should speak of this alone, khaleesi." Jorah said, glaring suspiciously at Jon, and stretching his shoulders back to puff himself up to his full breadth and height.

"There is no need, you may speak plainly here." Dany replied.

Jorah had always found it difficult to disguise his romantic love for the queen, but with Dany now so openly displaying her intimate relationship with Jon, he found it impossible to contain his jealously.

"Then I shall." Jorah said. "How do we know he speaks the truth, khaleesi?"

"I know, my children know." She said, her face certain of its thought. "We have the book recording Rhaegar's annulment and marriage, and there is also a man who lives still, who was with Ned when he found Lyanna. He can confirm Ned entered the tower following his sister's cries and screams, reappearing a short time later with Jon."

She thought a moment and added, "Why claim the babe as his bastard, to the unending ire of his beloved wife, if he did not have a much darker secret he wished to protect?"

"But, how do we know he knew none of this before? We cannot know that he has not played you for a fool and manipulated you to gain your trust and push your claim aside, khaleesi? Jorah said, trying to sway her.

"Do not presume me to be a fool, ser!" Dany barked, not hiding her anger. "He has not pushed my claim aside. We have put that matter aside together. The war to the north is the only war at this moment." She said definitively.

Tyrion, had been quietly distracted in the corner, thinking through all he had heard. "I feel it is no bad thing, my queen. You know the matter of succession has concerned me greatly for some time. With two living Targaryen heirs, I believe the iron throne could be more securely sought. The people could see that their future is assured in the dynasty." He said sincerely.

"Nonetheless, you both must fight in this great war, if we stand any hope of winning, and either or both could fall." His brow furrowed at the thought. "Succession is still of great concern. You must name an heir." He said, his tone insistent.

Jon nodded. "I understand your fear, lord Tyrion." He said.

He took no time in contemplating the matter. "Although, I have no desire to discuss whether my claim supersedes my Queen's, should we both fall in battle I would name House Stark as my heir. I am blood of both houses and, without Targaryen progeny, House Stark would be an obvious answer." He said.

"That would at least satisfy that scenario." Tyrion said with some relief. "But, the matter must be discussed more fully as soon as possible. If you Jon, were to die and my queen survive, I would not like to see a Stark attempt to take the throne ahead of a Targaryen. The situation is messy, it must be decided who has the true right to the throne, you or her grace? It must be documented, and soon, so there may be no doubt in the matter."

It was clear the hand was not willing to let go of this, having at last been able to broach the subject for proper discussion.

"Then document this …" Dany began, "It is King Aegon who is the true heir, I his Queen Consort. His child will be first in line regardless of its sex, and I Queen Regent if our child is not of age of majority or dies without progeny, then upon my death House Stark takes the throne."

"But khaleesi, I beg you cannot give up your rights so carelessly!" Jorah insisted, red faced with frustration.

"It is not without care. Do not presume to know how deeply I think, ser Jorah!" She said annoyed, her gaze capable of cutting the man down.

"Jon is the legitimate son of my eldest-brother. There is no question that his right precedes my own." She paced as she spoke, as if walking the words into the stone.

"I shall sit upon the iron throne at his side. We shall rule together. Our child shall rule after us. The blood of the dragon is thick and rich. It will rule the Seven Kingdoms for thousands of years." Her hand rested on her stomach as she spoke, as if willing dormant seed to take.

Jon looked at her disorientated, "I am unsure I even desire the throne." He said slowly. "I have barely had a moment to understand my own heritage."

"It is not a question of your desires, nor your understanding. Your blood dictates it. You are blood of the dragon, you are fire and ice itself, the iron throne is yours." She said, her eyes piercing him as she spoke.

"I do not wish to usurp you." Jon said truthfully.

"You don't." She rebutted. "My claim was never sound. I had thought it valid, but it is undeniable that your own claim is truer."

Dany moved over to him and took his hand. "We will be together, rule together. I know it in my very being. The semantics of it are an unnecessary distraction, a hinderance to attaining the true outcome. House Targaryen will return to their throne, that is the only concern following our defeat of the Night King." She said.

Jon nodded slowly.

"I shall document the decision." Tyrion said, keen to secure the claim and in time snatch the throne from his mad-sister, Cersei

"We shall call you your grace once again." He said smiling at Jon.

Jon replied with a raised brow.

"From bastard to Lord Commander, from commander to Lord of Winterfell, then lord to King of the North. From king back to lord, and finally you are King of the Seven Kingdoms awaiting your throne. Your journey has been varied, your grace." He said, as he bowed, sweeping his arm before him. "If that is all you require of me, I shall take my leave and pick up my quill."

Jon, looked to Dany and she squeezed his hand. "You may go, lord Tyrion. I trust you will carry out your task efficiently." She said.

"You too may take your leave ser." She said, as she looked to a shattered Jorah Mormont.

Sandor was looking at Tormund with disbelief. "And you managed such a pleasant date this very afternoon despite the world turning to shit last night?" He was impressed, although he'd never admit it to the ginger.

"Aye, perhaps because of it? That blue light was the talk of the castle all day. We trained by the stream as I had planned, and I made sure my face came close to hers, or my lips grazed her neck, every time I mounted her. She then sat next to me and ate as if to share a rug and meal with me were the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps she feels the pull between her legs because of me, or perhaps it is knowing that the beast flies the skies at night and I could give her some small comfort with my cock." The wildling spoke matter-of-factly, without his usual unabashed excitement.

"Regardless, it was her that offered me a choice of time tomorrow." Tormund said, clearly surprised himself.

"I am sure that your cock would be a very small comfort." Sandor said slyly, never one to pass up the opportunity to jest or belittle his friend.

"So, you intend to take her to the hot pools tomorrow night?" He asked.

"Aye, we leave at dusk." Tormund replied.

"As long as you are sure of it." Sandor advised. "Sansa took me there and it is an enchanting place at night. If Brienne thinks you plan to bed her when she lays her eyes upon the pools, she may run scared, leaving all your wooing for nought."

"Hmm." The wildling said, taking his words on board. "I feel confident though, that there has been a shift between us. That she desires me." He said, still surprising Sandor with his sincerity and lack of joviality.

"Then take only one horse. The ride together may increase your chance of success, and there is the excuse of a narrow track to traverse." Sandor said, slapping his friend on his shoulder and squeezing it.

"You may have eaten, but I am yet to do so. Will you come and drink with me whilst I dine?" Sandor asked.

"Aye." The wildling said, and they made their way inside.

As Sandor approached the table he became reflective. It was so natural now to dine with others, to share Sansa's chamber and bed. The world may well be falling apart around them, but his own personal existence had improved beyond measure. He was happy in his new home, and felt confident in his future there. He grunted to himself considering it. How had he managed it? He looked around, at the faces surrounding him. A lifetime had been spent alone. He'd happily disowned his only family, Gregor. Now he was surrounded by friends and family, something he would have found impossible to imagine a short time ago, let alone believe possible. He caught sight of her red hair as she entered the room.

Her grace was undeniable. She had the walk of a woman who had known her own importance her entire life. This was not a woman who should love a man such as himself, and yet she did. She smiled at him as she approached. His own face breaking into a smile in return without conscious thought by him and he found himself saying a prayer in his head to every god he could think of, that his woman be protected from harm during the war on their doorstep. That this place, Winterfell, be saved from destruction and limit the death that was sure to come.

It seemed unnaturally cruel to him, for the gods to allow a man such as himself a taste of life as it could be. To show him what a life could hold, what a future could be, and all he had missed in the past. She was at his side now, kissing his cheek. The warmth of her lips, their delicate softness radiating their kindness out from where they touched. Her sweet smell filling his nostrils. He felt his eyes flood with moisture, he wasn't sure whether from contentment or fear that this may all end very soon. He looked down at the plate in front of him and blinked hard, clearing his eyes before he turned to her and reached for her hand. He squeezed it, and his thumb stroked her skin in a repetitive reassuring sweep.

"Has your day been fruitful my love?" He asked.

AN: If you want to follow Brienne and Tormund's "dates", I've started a story called "Away From That Lot" to flesh out what happens there. First 2 chapters already published. I love Tormund. THANKS FOR READING. Please fav/follow or review, I am so grateful for your encouragement, comments and support.