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Chapter I

Jon woke to screams outside his cabin. Next to him, a Wildling woman stirred beneath the furs and clamped her hands upon her ears. Della, he thought her name was.

"Jon? Jon!" A voice bellowed at the door before marching in.

"What is it?" Jon groggily asked as he sat up, now fully alert. The towering silhouette of Tormund Giantsbane's voice dropped several tones: "There's a dragon here."

He ventured into the woods with a dozen of his bravest Wildlings trailing at a distance. He had ordered them not to attack and to stay back, but the fear and awe of a live dragon pulled them in all the same.

Jon's heart rammed in his chest. It had been three years since he was exiled to the North. Three years since he had seen a dragon. The Wildlings needed help establishing and rebuilding their villages, to let life return to somewhat normal. Maybe if he saw others get back with their lives, he would too.

The forest was thick with a dreaded silence as Jon followed the Weirwood Path through the trees. A flash of silver-gold hair, intricately weaved, fell apart in his fingertips. Knees against cold stone floors in Winterfell. A dragon's blood curdling fire scream mixed with the terror of thousands of peoples dying breath. One last killer kiss. He shuddered and held his composure. He was not okay and he wasn't sure if he ever would be, but he couldn't let the Wildlings see him cower. He had been with other women, many of them he couldn't remember, but none compared to Daenerys.

Even thinking of her name made Jon convulse. He had done an unspeakable crime, killing the woman he loved, a goddess, in order to save a realm who would never know about him. The North seemed to remember though and repaid him and the Wildlings with the warmest spring they had ever seen on this side of the Wall. He thought maybe it was her, melting down the ice, like she had done to save his life so long ago. In his dreams, they danced in the dark and she thanked him, over and over again, for the Iron Throne; then she would be splayed on top of the cursed thing, swords jutting through her calf, her breast, her neck while Drogon breathed fire to his face. He would always wake up, calling her name, until finally the alcohol was what lulled him to sleep for good.

Jon almost missed the Weirwood Tree as a dark mountain engulfed the clearing. The men behind him gasped and began to run away as the mountain's head moved and expanded his great black wings to scare them off further. Jon stood his ground. The head dipped beneath the tree line and before he knew it, he was face to face with Drogon, the Stallion who Mounts the World. Drogon bared his knife-like teeth and took a tentative sniff at Jon. Jon looked into his red fiery eyes. 'It's been a long time, cousin.' Drogon inhaled sharply, stood back up on his hindquarters, and pounced to the sky, night turning into day again. The red brilliant leaves of the Weirwood Tree shined among the grassy clearing marked by square stones in a spiral pattern. His eyes adjusted again. A cloaked woman was standing by the face of the tree. She took one step forward and her hood fell. That platinum golden hair.

"Daenerys?"

He could hardly believe it. Jon thought he was dreaming. Hallucinating is all, Tormund was playing a funny trick on him. He carefully walked towards her. She saw him and beamed.

"Where am I?" She asked in Valyrian. He shook his head. "Do you speak the Common Tongue?" She asked again.

"Y-yes. Is that really you?" Jon asked, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again.

"Where am I?" Daenerys asked.

"The Lands of Always Winter. North of the Wall. Daenerys, I-"

"North of what wall? I'm not in Essos anymore, am I?"

"Essos... no Dany, you're in Westeros... what are you-?"

"Westeros? How do you know my name?" Daenerys was three feet away now, a dagger peeking out from her waist. She sneered at Jon in distrust. Suddenly, he was very aware of the situation. He cautiously looked left and up to signal to his men: don't move.

"Everyone knows Daenerys Targaryen," he replied evenly. "Everyone knows about the Mother of Dragons."

Her mouth dropped open. She looked around frantically. "I don't!" She cried. "I don't know who I am! I have been a hostage for years! Until a dragon attacked our ship and brought me here. Was that your doing? Who are you?" She was hysterical now.

He had forgotten how volatile she was. How easy it was for her to snap back and forth, from mania to utter despair in mere seconds. This was far too much for her. Guilt rose in his throat. She didn't remember?

"I'm here to help you," he said quietly and she paused her sobbing to listen. "Will you come with me?" Daenerys wiped her tears and strolled towards Jon. Gods, she was still as beautiful if not more since that fateful day. Since he-

As they walked back to the encampment, curious eyes peered at the dragon's delivery. Although her hood covered most of her hair and face, the Wildlings stood in awe at her beauty. Jon led her into one of their log cabins, one where Tormund sat waiting.

"The dragon brings you a woman? Ohh, it's your lucky day," he cheered, bellowing laughter until Daenerys' hood fell and all smiles left his face. "You're supposed to be d-"

"Daenerys, are you hungry? Would you like to sit down here? It's not very warm but it's better than out there," Jon offered, still in shock that she was here, in the North, in the flesh. She nodded and sat down on the furs, reaching her hands toward the hearth. Jon's brow furrowed. By the old gods and the new, what was going on?

He brought her fresh roasted goat, her hands running with its juices as she ate ravenously. Daenerys downed the bread and gulped the ale as Tormund watched, impressed. When she was finished, she wiped her hands on her cloak and gazed at Jon with the same concern from earlier.

"Thank you...?"

"Jon. Jon Snow," he answered.

"Jon Snow," she repeated. "You say you can help me? What is the cost?"

His heart sank. She really was imprisoned. How many exchanges had she had to survive?

"No cost. I only want to offer you shelter. We're all Free Folk up here, we come and go as we please." He was careful with his words, afraid to divulge too much, wondering if this was part of his atonement from the gods.

She sighed in relief and closed her eyes. Before he knew it, she was lightly snoring among the bear skin furs. He glanced up at Tormund.

"What the hell is going on?"

In her dream, Daenerys suffocates underneath a pile of bodies. She swims through the writhing limbs, some dead and some living, covered in ash and burned skin, the scent so intense, until a man covered by a wolf headdress pulls her out. She feels like her head has been stuck in a bucket of ice water and just when she finally gasps for air, the wolf man attacks her throat. She wakes up in an instant.

Instead of the usual swaying floors of a ship, Daenerys found herself covered in furs, sweating from the fires. It was definitely night time now as the stars glittered from in between the cracks in the ceiling. She rose to find Jon sitting at a nearby table, clutching an empty horn. He saw her stir and began to mumble.

"You're beautiful," he mumbled, before laying his head down and passing out. She blushed in the dark and stepped into the cold to go to the bathroom. When she returned, her body shivered from her lack of clothes for the north and she sank back into the furs, desperate for heat.

Daenerys woke again to the sound of chirping birds. It had been so long since she had heard a birdsong. When was the last time anyway? Jon was no longer at the table which she was thankful for as she had so much to digest. Twenty-four hours ago, she was in bed with Daario on his ship, the Balerion, named after a great dragon of the past. She had a dream she jumped off the mast and instead of crashing into the sea and drowning, she flew away instead. Then she awoke and the black dragon had taken her.

She had been terrified of the beast as he grabbed her with his mighty talons and roared at the ship and its inhabitants. Daario and the Dothraki yelled her name, becoming small dots among the sea as she helplessly flew away in the dragon's claws.

'Please don't eat me,' she thought in exasperation, as his wings cut through the air with ease. The dragon tilted his head and emitted what seemed like a chortle, and for a moment understood what she thought. She closed her eyes and prayed.

The last few years had been confusing as she was taken hostage from city to city, her company seizing and taking what was theirs. A large black flag decorated with three dragon heads connected by a spiral was Balerion's emblem and no town was a match for them. She was guarded, heavily guarded, and wasn't allowed to see or speak to anybody. Her hair was always tightly braided and hidden inside her cloak as they walked through the aftermath. She assumed that she was taken as a prize on one of these rampages and during the scuffle, hit her head pretty damn hard when they took her.

Daenerys grazed her hand along her stomach. A thick ugly scar in the shape of a crescent moon poked through her silk gown. She really needed better clothing.

A woman stopped by later in the morning to give her what she needed. The wool shirts were itchy on her skin but the weight of the wolf fur around her neck gave her warmth. She slipped into black slacks and knee high fur snow boots with crude leather straps. They were not the finest but she was thankful for them anyway.

Jon entered after she was dressed and she was apprehensive of this man. His black curly hair was pulled back into a knot but curls still spilled out around his face. She could see a faint scar trail from his eyebrow to his cheek, then she caught grey eyes boring into her. A massive sword with a wolf pommel sat on his hip yet his gloved leather hands clenched and unclenched, unsure what to say.

"Why was I brought here?" She asked first.

"I dunno. You should ask the dragon," Jon replied. Dany scoffed. What?

"So you didn't send him to me?" Dany said.

"No... I didn't." He wasn't a man of many words yet she felt like she knew him.

"Are you of my past?" She asked. His face turned stoic as his jaw clenched.

"Yes," he finally admitted, looking away from her. She didn't know what to say. She couldn't place him and for all she knew, she was from Essos, taken captive and living a pirate's life. She knew nothing of Jon or the dragon or the North or Westeros even existing up until yesterday. She wanted to cry again.

"Who am I?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes. Daenerys was so exhausted and confused, he could tell. It wasn't everyday a dragon takes you and brings you to a faraway tundra wasteland.

He came closer and sat with her in the furs and sighed. Even closer, Jon was very attractive and she couldn't tell if she wanted to stay or run away from him. It had been a few moments before he finally chalked up his courage and told her: "You are Queen Daenerys of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name. Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons."