"Remember who you are Daenarys. The dragons know. Do you?"

There was a time when Daenarys could have confidently answered that question. She had been Daenarys Stormborn, the Dragon's Daughter.

Daenarys of the House Targaryen, the blood of Old Valyria, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Queen of Meereen, the Unburnt, and the Breaker of Chains.

Daenarys the first of her name, Queen of Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.

But that had been many years ago, far before the Long Night. Long before Daenarys Stormborn had met a dark-haired stranger carrying the name Jon Snow. She could still remember the day that she had set her eyes on Jon Snow. He, the King in the North, had come to her at Dragonstone, pleading for her help in a fight against the army of the dead. An army that she hadn't believed to exist. Daenarys hadn't thought much of him at the time. The King in the North had worn a solemn face with scars and was only of a medium height. He had not strutted as Drogo once had nor had he swaggered as Daario would. No, Jon Snow had stepped carefully into Daenarys' court, and the rest of her life had never been the same.

She had felt so inadequate in his presence.

From the moment her advisors had laid their eyes on him, she could sense their allegiances changing. Varys and Tyrion immediately had found a new ruler that they wanted to serve. The King in the North had spoken with such conviction and wisdom. He was beloved by his people and quickly her's as well.

But most of all, Daenarys had fallen in love with him and his brooding face. She had loved him when he took her into the cave of Dragonstone to show her the drawings of the Children of the Forest. She had loved him when he gathered the nerve to touch her son Drogon. She had loved him when he had finally bent the knee and pledged the North to her.

Daenarys had been so certain that Jon Snow would be her last mount, the mount for love.

He had been her counterpart. When she had bore their son Rhaegar into the world, she had known with every fiber of her being, that they were meant to be together. Stark and Targaryen, Wolf and Dragon, King and Queen.

But then came the Long Night and with it, broken dreams.

The battle had lasted what had felt like a lifetime. She remembered the foreboding sense that the Night King would defeat them once and for remembered looking at the masses down from Drogon's back. She had spent nearly every minute of the battle searching the grounds for Jon, in the midst of the fire, smoke, and snow.

Her heart had nearly stopped when she saw Jon from afar, surrounded by an army of wights. No one had been around to protect their king, not the Northern soldiers, Jon's direwolf Ghost, nor anyone from Jon's army. Daenarys recalled a scream, whether it was her's or drogon's she would never know.

She had clutched Drogon's scales and prayed that he could reach her to Jon as quickly as possible, to save him just in time with fire.

But someone else had beaten her there.

A small brown-haired girl had charged into the battle on the back of a giant monstrous wolf and an army of thousands of smaller wolves. The wolf had howled at the top of its lungs and somewhere on the other side of the ice field, Ghost had howled had watched as the wolves tore the bodies of the wights apart and protected Jon. She had watched the look of awe on her husband's face as the girl wielded a large sword. She watched as they stopped to look at each other once the wights had been destroyed, and that was when her heart broke. Jon had smiled so widely and grabbed the girl in his arms. He had picked her up and buried himself in her shoulders, while she hugged him around his shoulders. They were lost within each other's arms and had no care in the world for the chaos that ensued in front of them, while the girl's wolf stayed guard.

Daenarys had turned Drogon away from the sight of them and had returned to burning groups of the the others. She had never seen Jon look so happy in the time that she had known him.

He had never smiled at her that way. He hadn't even smiled like that when Rhaegar came screaming into the had turned behind slightly to see if Jon and the girl were still in an embrace, but they had pulled apart, finally. Jon had moved away to a group of white walkers while the girl fought more wights with her wolf.

Jon had gone back to focusing on the war. It should have brought her relief, but Daenarys couldn't help feeling cross. Her husband was most likely going to die in this battle, as was she, and he had spent some of his last moments in the arms of another woman.

And she was right.

The Night King had met Daenarys in the air on the back of her beloved Viserion. Drogon had cried out in anger when he saw what had become of his brother. She had never felt the fire in her body burn as hot as it had in that son was being ridden like a slave by his own hadn't even opened her mouth to command "Dracarys," when Drogon had already unleashed his flames. Viserion had instantly responded with his own ice, which began the dance of and the Night King fought in the skies as Jon and his army fought in the ground. Drogon had been winning and Daenarys was so certain that he would defeat Viserion and put an end to his misery.

But then there was a loud uproar.

She looked down and saw Jon laying in the snow surrounded by many of his men.

"It can't be."

"What are we to do without him"

"There's nothing to do, we're going to die you fuckers."

"We may as well kill as many of them as we can."

In the very next moment, a bolt had pierced Drogon's eye and Daenarys felt herself falling from the skies. She had braced herself as her heart had pumped furiously.

She couldn't lose Drogon now, not when she had just lost Jon.

Drogon had been wounded many times in battle, surely her son would survive this time as well. Her strong, beautiful, black dread of a son.

But he hadn't. Her largest son had laid in the midst of the field bleeding and Daenarys had watched as the light left his eyes.

A girl had come running over, the girl that had saved Jon.

Tears had been streaming down her face, but her eyes were filled with rage."You need to burn him. Now!" the girl had instructed, as she fought off two wights that charged at them.

"He's my son!" Daenarys had barked back.

"They'll do to him what they did to your other dragon. Hurry! We lost Jon but you can still finish this," the girl yelled as she breathed heavily.

Daenarys had clutched Drogon's face protectively.

"Who are you and how do you know my dragons?" she had demanded at the girl.

How do you know Jon? She wanted to ask.

The girl had stared at Daenarys and suddenly Daenarys felt uneasy, like the girl was reading into her mind.

"I'm Arya of Winterfell, and you need to burn that dragon before the Night King takes this one too," she said with caution.

Daenarys had watched as Arya of Winterfell charged back into the battle.

"Khaleesi," Ser Jorah had interrupted her from behind. "She's right. You have to burn him. You must.""He's my child. When I burn him, he'll be no more. He's all I have left of him- of Drogo," she whispered as she brushed the tears from her eyes. "And now Jon's gone and I can't win this battle. I've failed my people, my kingdom."

"Look ahead of you, Khalessi," Ser Jorah advised. "If I look back, I am lost" Daenarys had agreed.

"No Daenarys, look!" Ser Jorah had looked up and her jaw had dropped. Rhaegal was engaged in combat with Viserion and before Daenarys could scream for him to flee and save himself, her body froze.

Jon was alive and riding Rhaegal. How? Daenarys had thought.

Jon was of the North, the son of Lord Eddard Stark. He didn't have a trace of Valyrian blood in him. Rhaegal had never allowed anyone to ride him, not even herself, his own mother.

She watched as Jon leapt from Rhaegal's back to Viserion's. You valiant fool. Daenarys thought furiously. A bonded dragon would never let Jon ride him, not even an ice dragon. The Night King had instantly grabbed his spear, ready to pierce Jon, when suddenly Jon pulled out a small dagger and rammed it through the Night King's gut. There was a crack that Daenarys was positive was heard across the entire field, as the Night King shattered to hundreds of pieces and the light from Viserion's icy blue eyes vanished. Her dragon's lifeless body came crashing down onto the ground as Jon came down with him.

The entire army of the dead stopped moving and suddenly all of their bodies started to fall as did it. We've won. I can finally rule now. The seven kingdoms are finally mine.

How wrong she had been.

Every bit of Jon had died in the battle and when he came back resurrected, he had become a stranger to her once it was all over, he had declared himself the King of the Seven Kingdoms, a betrayal that Daenarys could have never predicted.

She had protested it. He was a Stark, he had no claim to the throne that was rightfully her's. But Brandon Stark of Winterfell had shocked everyone when he had announced that Jon was the trueborn son of her brother Rhaegar and his Northern girl had watched as all of the lords of Westeros had placed their swords in front of Jon.

The throne is mine, she had wanted to scream. But in her heart of hearts she knew it was a lie. Jon was born before her, was Rhaegar's son, and he had the only dragon left in the world, was the last dragon.

Worst of all, Jon wasn't her Jon anymore. Whatever he had seen on the other side had made him as hard as ice. She would try and lie with him at night, but he would turn all of her touches away. She had hoped to give him another son as pretty as Rhaegar. She thought that another child could possibly melt Jon's new walls and make him return to her. But it was impossible to when Jon refused to share her bed could still remember the day of Jon's coronation vividly.

Jon had worn a sigil of a wolf and a dragon on his armour when they were alone in the royal chambers. "You musn't wear another sigil with the three headed dragon. One might think that you're claiming House Stark as having equal status as House Targaryen. It may send the wrong message," Daenarys had advised him. "I'm as much a Stark as I am a Targaryen," Jon had responded, gruffly, making it explicitly clear to Daenarys that her advice was unwanted.

When they had walked into the throne room, Tyrion's voice had boomed across it. "All hail His Grace, Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

She remembered feeling rage when all of the lords of Westeros had had no problem kneeling to Jon. The same lords who she had tried so hard to pledge fealty to her. The only kingdom that Jon seemed truly worried for was the North.

Daenarys had been so certain that the Northerners would still want to remain independent from the other kingdoms. But to everyone's shock, including Jon's, Brandon Stark had knelt.

He had sworn his fealty to the new King of the seven kingdoms, leaving Daenarys with a bitter taste in her mouth. How easy it had been for Jon to win the North when she had fought so hard for it Daenarys could still remember vividly what her lord husband had asked for next.

As if Brandon Stark hadn't offered him enough. Jon had asked for Arya Stark to be sent to King's lord of Winterfell hadn't looked surprised. He had asked his grace why he wanted his sister to be in the capitol in a knowing manner.

"Arya was always my favorite sister, my lord. This is not a secret to anyone. It would please me if she were here in Kings Landing. I fear it's been too long that we've been apart and I would like to spend some more time with her. I believe that she could be happy at King's Landing and it would ensure good faith between the houses of Stark and Targaryen, would it not my lord?" Jon had responded so convincingly that Daenarys knew that Brandon Stark could not object in front of the other lords of Westeros.

Her lord husband had gotten another one of his wishes. Brandon Stark had sent Arya to King's Landing on the morrow and she had been taken straight to Jon.

That had all been four years ago.

Daenarys now stood in front of her solar in her empty chamber, reading the raven that had been sent to her from Sunspear.

"I write with news, your grace. The Lady Arya Stark has been found in Dorne. How do you wish for me to proceed?

Yours,Princess Arianne Nymeros Martell"

Daenarys Stormborn took a seat on her bed.

The dragons know. Do you?