"Damn it Dany."

Jon felt that was the new mantra of his life. What had started as a political marriage to unite the north and south had turned into a deeply loving relationship. But just because he loved her didn't mean that she didn't frustrate him to no end. In fact, loving her, just make her more frustrating. Especially now – now that winter was over and all their wars were won. They had no one to fight with, except each other. Tyrion used to point out that Jon and Dany brought new meaning to the phrase "arguing like an old married couple." Of course that was quickly shut down because, like an old married couple, they immediately stopped yelling at each other and preceded to explain to their hand in no uncertain terms exactly how they planned to throw him into the city's sewer system and what they thought lived down there. Needless to say, Tyrion's next city project centered on improving said system.

Jon took a deep breath of slightly less shitty smelling air. He needed to be calm – at least until Dany admitted that she was responsible for this ridiculous and unnecessary political move. It had to be her, nobody else had the authority and nobody else would have done this without asking him.

Thirteen years of kingship had at least taught Jon how to keep his face expressionless when hearing the news that their guest would arrive in a week. Of course this happened during a small council meeting where Dany just so happened to be absent. I bet she doesn't even have an upset stomach. She's just avoiding the argument. I bet she knew that raven would get here today and she faked her illness so we wouldn't be a spectacle in front of the small council, again.

Of course, Dany was an expert liar, and she followed her lies through to the end. Thus Jon knew without a doubt that his wife would still be in their chambers, resting and playing the illness card for all she was worth. He'd probably buy it too. No matter how angry he was, nothing mattered more than her. Heading through the Red Keep, Jon built up his argument. Despite their dragon tempers both of them base their decisions based on facts and what was best of the realm. Screaming the loudest would get him nowhere when it came to a final decision. It would however make him feel better and provide an outlet for that fire inside.

Reaching Maegor's Holdfast Jon's pace quickened. The servants took one look and him and where he was going and they knew now was not the time to clean this part of the castle. Two dragons, albeit human ones, breathing fire at each other was not something they wanted to get in the crossfire of.

Finally reaching their rooms, Jon yanked open the door. "DANY!" He looked around the sitting room and found no trace of her, which he'd expected. On to the bedroom then. Forcing open the next door, Jon saw his wife. The past thirteen years had done nothing to take away her beauty, if anything they had only enhanced it. This was especially true of her eyes. Those purple orbs had gained the wisdom that comes with ruling for over a decade. Right now her eyes were wide open in surprise.

"Jon? What are you doing back here? I thought there was a small council meeting. You didn't have to come back so soon. It's just a little nausea. I'll be fine."

Realizing that he was probably being played for a sucker, Jon still couldn't help but respond to his wife's apparent confusion and convincing discomfort. The hand going to her middle, the deep breaths, and even the bucket next to the bed all showed that the story of her illness was something she was sticking to. She's better at this than Arya, Jon thought. Though Arya was trying to get out of embroidery lessons, not skip small council meetings where damning information was being revealed.

"If you say so. There was a small council meeting. I wanted to discuss a raven that came in this morning – from Sunspear."

Dany showed no signs of guilt. Even with her supposed nausea she was a picture of queenly composure. "Dorne? What do the sand snakes want this time?"

"It wasn't from the sand snakes. It was from a ship that was passing through to re-supply on their way to Kings Landing. I don't suppose you know anything about that?" Jon's words because more clipped during the last sentence. Dany turned away from the staring contest she was having with the bottom of her bucket and looked at Jon, noticing her husband's anger for the first time.

Impatient, Jon continued, "I was amazed when I heard that he was on his way, considering that I made my feelings about this perfectly clear."

If anything Dany looked even more naseus, to the point where Jon was starting to think it was real. "Jon, sit down and don't talk for a few minutes because when I try to yell over you, I might end up spewing up what little I had for breakfast." Jon sat and regarded his wife, feeling the concern he felt for her health pressing down all of his other issues.

"I know you don't like the Greyjoy boy."

"That's..." One glare shut him up.

"I know you don't like him, but you have to deal with him. Maintaining our alliance with the Iron Islands is important and you can't deny Asha's heir a place at court just because you're afraid he's going to try to court our daughter."

Now it was Jon's turn to glare. He remembered growing up with Theon and how the Iron Islands raised their children to be arrogant thieves. He didn't want a Greyjoy anywhere near Rhaeanna.

"Torric is not Theon."

"Theon helped raise him."

"That is why I'm sure that boy got taught a healthy dose of humility."

"He's not going near her. You know that's why Asha wants him here, to seduce our little girl."

"Our little girl is almost twelve and can take of herself. We'll have to think about betrothals at some point and I seem to recall you being the one that was adamant on it being her choice."

"She's not choosing him."

"Well if she's not going to pick him, then there's no reason to fear him being at court, is there?"

Jon realized he was trapped. The only response he could possibly muster was to narrow his eyes at her. Dany smiled at patted his arm. "I'm sure Rhae's overprotective father and archery-obsessed brother will deter any unwanted advances."

Jon smiled at the reference to their son's progress in the training yard. Of course he was just as proud of the kindness and leadership his son was developing. Still, there was something about passing on your skill with a sword that inspired a certain kind of pride. Then Jon had his next argument.

"He'll be a bad influence on Aemon."

"Aemon's leaving with you for Winterfell in three weeks. Do you really think that the Greyjoy boy is going to corrupt him in the short span of time before you leave?"

"We'll only be gone for two months and who knows how long the Greyjoy boy is going to stay? I imagine you extended an open invitation." Jon's last words were filled with accusation.

"Well, in those two months" – here she paused and contemplated the bottom of her bucket again for about ten seconds until she took a deep breath and continued – "I'll be able to figure out whether he's a respectable boy while you're gone. And if he's not then you can drag him back to Pyke yourself."

Placated, Jon got one last comment in, "if he offends Rhaeanna at all, Rhaegal and I are going fly him out over the ocean and let his drowned god have him."

Dany started to chuckle, but stopped abruptly and took deep breaths to keep everything down. All of his frustration gone, Jon really was getting concerned. Clearly, his wife was actually sick. He scooted over closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Do you want me to call a maester? I'm sure Sam has time to come see you."

Dany slowly and carefully shook her head. "There's nothing he could do."

Jon leaned over and kissed her forehead. "After the small council meeting I was sure that you were faking it just so when I found out it wouldn't be another screaming match in front of the small council."

"Oh, like last week when I found out about those trade agreements that favored the north to a ridiculous degree?" Dany replied, with a glance.

Jon was not deterred though, "I was thinking more about the time you pretended to have a fever to avoid dealing with Randyl Tarly."

Dany laughed, "well, one of us had to be there and it wasn't going to be me."

Both of them chuckled. Silence reigned for a minute while Jon squeezed her shoulders closer to him in a semi-hug and Dany leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes in contentment.

The silence was broken when Jon asked again, "are you sure you don't want me to get Sam? He should have something that will calm your stomach down and if you're getting sick this fast… Dany, you were not nearly this bad earlier."

"Sam already gave me some tea that should help, but I could drink more than a few sips this morning."

Jon, who had been with Sam all morning at the small council meeting, knew that there was no way that the grand maester had been to see his wife since she had fallen ill. That meant she had seen him before today. "How long have you been ill?" Jon reached across with his free hand to touch his wife's chin and tilt her face toward his. His eyes filled with concern and hers filled with mischief.

"Who said I was ill?" Jon narrowed his eyes at the surely trick question.

"All I said was that I was feeling nauseous." A hint of a smile had begun to tug on the corners of her lips.

Jon, still not catching on to what his wife thought was obvious (going by her failure to conceal her smug humor), kept up his questioning. "So if you're not ill, why have you been staring at that bucket all morning?"

"That, my love, is entirely your fault." While she said this she took his hand and brought it down to her stomach. "and until this little one is born, I will be sure to remind you that every single ache, pain, and discomfort is your fault."

His hand tightened on his wife's for-now flat stomach while his head tilted to capture her lips in a kiss that expressed his joy for the new addition to their family. A kiss that was swiftly interrupted by Dany turning to the side and making use of that bucket she had been staring at all morning.

"This is all your fault."

Jon wasn't going to argue.