27 Together

The fires were everywhere. Deep within Sunspear, the stench of smoke and death hung in the air as the Lannister armies engaged in an orgy of rape and murder. Her loose tunic and headscarf caked in blood and greasy black soot, Tyene Sand scrambled through the winding alleys and corridors of her native city. Her long daggers had slayed many a Lannister - but it wasn't enough. Never enough. All thoughts of victory were gone when the Grey Lion broke through into the Princely Palace. Now, there was only survival on the mind of the last member of her family true to Dorne. Not a puppet of the Chimera.

"This way, my Lady," the lead guard urged. They were dressed in the attire of simple peasants - the hope was to melt away into the countryside and fight an irregular war until Dorne was free. Such thoughts seemed hopeless to Tyene. She had once thought that the true Dornish patriots, ones that loved her father Oberyn and her aunt Elia and hated the Lannisters for murdering them, would vanquish Joffrey's army. It didn't come to pass, the Lannister armies instead making Dorne howl. There was less of a chance that they could win now with much of their population enslaved in King's Landing and with her cousin Tristane as Joffrey's puppet. But it was still a chance.

Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the God-King and Supreme Commander of the Army of the Holy Chimera, had many names. The Indomitable, dating from when he was Hand to King Aerys. The Grey Lion, dating from when he saved King's Landing during the Battle of Blackwater Bay. Now, with the campaign through the southernmost tip of Westeros leaving death, slavery, and burnt out fields and forests in its wake, he drew a new name. The Doom of Dorne. Tyene remembered when he had entered the palace just as she, her mother, and her sisters readied to escape. Standing before them, he looked every inch the doom.

"Elyria Sand," he had said, bowing slightly. "It is an honor to accept the surrender of such a lovely woman." His sparkling green eyes remained in Tyene's mind, their color no less piercing with age. She and her sisters had fought him… fought the Mountain. They had felled Tywin's dog, wounding him grievously for what he did to Elia, but Tywin Killed Nymeria and Obara, capturing her mother. Tyene had barely escaped the palace alive.

They reached a small gate, an individual-sized carving in the city walls used for patrols. "There are men waiting several miles away, just beyond the mountain cliff face…" A knife cut off the guard's sentence, slicing through his neck and causing bright crimson liquid to splatter over Tyene's clothes. The other guard turned but another blade sliced his head clean off.

"Going somewhere, my lady?" asked Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, the ghost of a smirk on his face. His leather fighting tunic and loose chainmail were just as dirty and bloodstained as Tyene's, sword bloody. He had been fighting hard as well.

"Not before I send you to hell," she snarled, charging him. Bronn was forced back, sword shifting quickly to block the dual parries and slashes. He jerked forward, putting Tyene off balance. But this lasted by a moment, the agile woman twirling with the grace of a dancer and continuing her frenzied attacks.

Blocking a downward slash by Bronn with crossed blades, Tyene shifted them apart and twisted. Bronn's sword clattered to the ground leaving him bereft of weapons. What Tyene didn't count on was the Hero of the Blackwater finding this perfectly fine. Out of nowhere came a front kick, felling the Sand Snake, wind knocked out of her. By the time she caught her breath and began to reach for her daggers, sharp steel poked at her windpipe.

Blade at her neck, Bronn knew he could end this girl's life with just the flick of his wrist. But behind the anger, the hate, there was only fear. A scared girl that had lost her family - something eerily familiar to Bronn. And so time stood still. No move to end her life, no move to spare it. Just a hanging status quo, tension in the air so thick a knife could slice through it.

Commotion in the alley behind broke the reverie. He quickly made a decision. "Go."

Tyene blinked. "What?"

"For fuck's sake," Bronn hissed in frustration. "Unless ya want Tywin Lannister to put yer head on a pike next to your sisters, go!."

Scrambling to her feet, Tyene was just about to disappear into the woods when she turned. "Why?" Her curiosity got the better of her.

Breathing deep, Bronn shrugged. "Got a weakness for Dornish girls, I guess. Now get." Her moment's amusement before she ran off into the brush made him chuckle. 'Now that's a lady for me.'

Just then, a squad of soldiers burst out of the city. House Tarly by their sigils. "Any more, my Lord?" one asked Bronn, gesturing to the corpses.

Bronn gazed out at the woods one last time. "No. Just two fuckers trying to flee. Keep five men at the gate. The rest of you with me." Back into the chaos.

"Much colder than I remember." Tyrion looked out at the expansive snowfall pockmarked with circles and ovals of winter grass. A beautiful sheet of white marred by hardy life. The Lannister knew his father and sister would see it as an apt metaphor for the North - beautiful desolation made ugly by the people that lived in it. "I hate to sound like a droll punmaster, but dare I say that 'Winter is Coming.'"

Catelyn Stark rolled her eyes. "Don't you have someone else to annoy? Missandei perhaps?" The wave of her hand cast the attention to the Naathi translator, trying to get Tyrion out of her hair. She now knew he had nothing to do with Bran's near death, but he could still be most irritating.

He cast her eyes at the translator, who's sullen frown remained. "I wouldn't bother a lovely woman pining for her lover. I'm not my sister, Lady Stark." A battalion of Unsullied marched with them as the Queen's personal bodyguard, but Grey Worm wasn't among them - he stayed with the bulk of them at Dragonstone to help Varys, Jorah, and Theodosius coordinate the main army. Missandei hadn't been the same since. 'A man with no cock can enchant a woman so?' Tyrion resolved to pick the reserved warrior's brain for some secrets to try out on Shae later on.

"One of the Dothraki then?" Gods save her from the Imp.

Swigging from his canteen, he grimaced at the sour ale but was grateful for the warmth. "The Dothraki? They'd have me chained and dancing for their amusement within five minutes." It was ironic, finding himself in the same inner circle as the woman that nearly had him thrown out of the Moon Gate at the Eyrie. "With Varys in Dragonstone, who else to receive the honor of my superb wit."

"Aren't most of the people who compliment your 'superb wit' people you pay for their company?"

Tyrion mimed an arrow to his chest. "Oh, thy hath wounded me." He drained the canteen, but decided not to refill it. He wanted to be sharp once the convoy reached Winterfell and the man that had won over his Queen's heart. Ahead rode three hundred Dothraki led by Daenerys' bloodriders, shivering underneath their thick pelts. Behind him and the Unsullied marched nearly a thousand freedmen auxiliaries. The possible alliance with the North would be sealed with the gift of needed troops.

The possible alliance… "Given what the Mad King did to the Starks, the Northern houses will not take kindly to our Queen." Grudges among the north ran deep. "They didn't support Renly's claim - instead proclaiming your son King in the North. That will cause headaches for us to deal with." More on the North than on Daenerys. With her love for Jon Snow - Jaehaerys Targaryen - she'd be far more agreeable than any Glovers, Manderlys, or Karstarks.

Closing her eyes, the topic unnerved her more than his previous irritation. It hit too close to home. To her dishonor. "Perhaps I or my children will help defuse the situation. Queen Daenerys is not the Mad King, and a personal touch could go a long way." A gust of wind slammed into them from the north. The Essosi shivered, but Catelyn took it in stride. "Her marrying a northerner would help."

"Considering a marriage to Jon Snow, are we? Premature it would… oh fuck it. If they're already married when we get to Winterfell I wouldn't be surprised." The Queen had a knack of getting what she wanted. She wanted nothing more than Jon Snow. "If he were to get a title, that would actually help considerably. King in the North perhaps?"

"My son Robb is King in the North."

Scuffling from two of the Dothraki distracted Tyrion for the moment. One probably bumped into another and it escalated into a fight to the death - which their clan elder was trying to stop. 'Oh the simpler people of the plains and the hills.' "I mean no disrespect to him, Lady Stark, but the Northern Lords proclaim a King in the North by acclamation. After the Red Wedding do you think he could ever resume his title? Or that he would want it?" From the way she looked away, Tyrion knew he had gotten the point across.

Staring at the white sheet that had blanketed the northern plains, Catelyn felt the harsh cold. "I still remember the day that Ned brought him to Winterfell, from the south. No mother, and saying he had strayed and that this baby boy was his bastard. I loved Ned, and it killed me to think he had betrayed me." The memories tumbled through her head. "When I was pregnant with Sansa, Jon fell sick. I remember praying to the Old Gods and the New to take him. To let him die. And he grew worse, and I realized what I… the evil I had done - all because of Ned's mistake. So I prayed again to save him, promising that I would raise him as my own. The Gods kept their promise… but I didn't. All that had happened to my family since was because I couldn't give mercy to a motherless boy."

Tyrion was silent, chafing in his seat. What could he say to that? What could anyone say to that?

Lady Stark laughed humorously. "And now, not only is Jon leading the North, he is really the trueborn heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Ned was true to me this whole time." A tear fell from her eye. "All that had happened… was all for nothing." Cracking the reins, she galloped ahead of the Lannister, wishing to be alone.

"Lord Tyrion." The Imp turned quickly, finding Missandei having roused from her lonely contemplation. "You have met this Jon Snow, correct?" She had heard the Lady Daenerys talk about him countless times, to both her and the children, but wanted to know what he was like in his homeland. More about the real person that had her lady's heart.

Making him think a bit, Tyrion searched through his mind for the few moments he had spent with Jon Snow. 'If I had known he was Rhaegar's son, I would have glued my cheek to his hip.' "He was… just like Ned Stark in a way. Brooding and withdrawn, but with a noble heart. I could tell he wanted to do the right thing."

His words seemed to lighten a bit of her melancholy. "In my life, every highborn that I met only cared about their power or their class. The Lady Daenerys was the exception - if she wishes me to serve Lord Snow as well, I will do so. But… I am glad that he will likely make me want to serve him."

Tyrion nodded. "All of us could stand to be more like them." He pulled the cloak tighter over him. 'Beastly cold.'

Only a week before, Daenerys had imagined Dragonstone to be immensely cold - now, teeth chattering even with the warmth of the fire within the hearth and the woollen dress, she couldn't manage to get any warmth into her body. All that kept her from making Balerion douse her with dragonfire was the black cloak draped around her form. A contented smile crossed her face. Eyes fluttered closed as she inhaled the deep scent she had long missed. 'Jon.' Noticing her woefully underdressed for the North, he had draped his Night's Watch cloak around Dany's body. 'So loving. So caring.' It was just like him to do so, and she hadn't taken it off since.

Dany absentmindedly stroked Ghost's soft, white fur, the reflections of the momentous day still weighing on her. To say that the reception she had gotten after her passionate kiss with Jon - quite anticlimactic after storming Winterfell atop Balerion - was tense would be putting it mildly. Ghost had been the most enthusiastic, practically leaping on the woman he had known so long ago when just a pup and licking her face. He hadn't left her side since, likely guarding his master's most important asset Dany thought with a happy sigh. Rhaegal… it had been an unexpected delight to see her child alive and having taken Jon as his rider. The green dragon lost no love for his mother, though was more keen to fly off with his brothers after the battle.

"Would you like some tea, your Grace?" Looking up, Dany saw Margaery Tyrell smiling, two steaming cups in her hands. "The servants brought us a pot. I think it would warm you up."

Dany smiled. "Thank you, Lady Margaery." The warm liquid spread heat as it slid down her throat. The Tyrell rose had welcomed her the most warmly, essentially taking charge of the household when Jon excused himself to handle prisoners and the elimination of all Bolton detritus in the castle with his brother and sister. Ser Davos and Lady Brienne had been cordial, while the wildling - Tormund Giantsbane if Dany remembered his name - made her laugh with his inappropriate cracks about Jon "Working off his battle energy" with her. Little Rickon was a delight, having taken to Dany almost immediately despite all he had been through. All that bothered the Dragon Queen was Sansa and Robb, though their hesitancy was only natural.

"Where is my brother?" Dany asked Margaery. That Viserys was here intrigued her. She never thought he could manage to marshall a bum fight in a brothel, let alone wrangle an actual army by himself.

Margaery's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't know, nor do I want to know where that slug is. Jon or Robb would…" At that moment the three Starks walked in, conversing about someone named Sam arriving with an important package left in the Lord's chamber. It ended when they saw Dany.

"Lord Jon," Dany said. "Lord Robb. Lady Sansa." Sansa immediately excused herself, not scowling but closed off. Robb gave her a small smile while Jon, handsome as ever, merely looked at the floor sheepishly.

Margaery got the hint that Dany radiated. "Robb, let's find our chamber." The word choice was not lost on any of them, but a story for another day. Soon it was just them left.

"Daenerys." Jon reached out his hand. "Let me escort you to the Lord's chamber."

His gravelly voice sent shivers down her body. Dany smiled and gladly took it. It was surreal as Jon led her through the halls of the northern castle. Darkness had fallen outside, only torches keeping the black of night at bay. She looked back at Jon, drinking in his sight. He had grown, muscles firm and face pocked with the scars of a hard life. The same scars as hers, though external rather than internal. 'Oh, my love. What have we gone through while apart?' Dany had every intention of sharing all of what they had been through, but not tonight.

Jon couldn't look at Daenerys. To do so would have left him speechless at her beauty. He was a warrior, not the same sixteen year old tongue tied in front of the most gorgeous woman on earth. The hand he kept glued to the small of her back sent electric tingles along his skin. Gulping, he found his father's former chamber. The room fit for a Queen. "Here we are, Daenerys."

Biting her lip, Dany waited by the door to the Lord of Winterfell's chambers. 'Why is he hesitating?' she thought. She wished to act regally until they were alone in their room, but gods. Just being close to Jon was stoking her to the point of combustion. Her dragonwolf would be the death of her. But then, his hand left its perch on the small of her back. Daenerys immediately felt an unnatural chill where it had been.

"Good night, your Grace." Every part of him wanted to sweep Dany into his arms after the passionate kiss they shared and… reacquaint themselves - but propreity stopped him. Jon turned and began along the corridor. She was no longer a young girl, but a Queen. The rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms and a Targaryen. With his hope to unite the Northern Lords to deal with the Army of the Dead, what message would it send if he slept with a Targaryen immediately upon her arrival? What message would it send if she slept with a mere bastard...

Sadness overwhelmed Dany, joining with her loneliness. He had just left her alone, withdrawing back into his brooding self. Just like when they first kissed in Pentos. 'No, I did journey on dragonback to the North to have Jon withdraw into his insecurity.' A weak girl allowed herself to be lonely. The Dragon Queen took what she wanted.

Stopping in his tracks, Jon realized he was still thinking of himself as a bastard. A damn bastard with no birthright. But he had every birthright, Jaehaerys Targaryen - Targaryen and Stark. He loved Daenerys and did deserve her. She did deserve him, and wanted him. "Dany," he said lovingly, turning… only for her to leap into his arms.

"Jon!" Dany kissed him, kissed him with the pent up fervor of years of desire. She melded into him, caring not one bit about propriety. No one could disturb their happy reunion now.

He lost himself in her, feeling the hole in his heart disappear. He had his dragon back, the beautiful enchantress that haunted his dreams.

An unnatural giggle left Dany's lips as Jon hefted her into his arms, carrying her horizontally. She wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the closeness. It had all returned - the same feelings and affection from before. Time had separated them, but hadn't dampened what they felt for each other. 'Blood of my blood.' This man was destined to be hers. Watching him nudging the door open with her leg, Daenerys lavished Jon's strong jaw with little kisses. Now they weren't Queen and Commander, but two reunited lovers reconnecting

As the wooden door closed with a thud behind them, a sound hit Dany's ears that she hadn't heard in nearly four years. Surprised, she looked at Jon - her love shrugged, smiling sheepishly. He set her down just as the three dragon hatchlings dove down from the rafters, screeching up a storm. They flocked around Jon in a joyous frenzy. "Hello girls," he said, chuckling awkwardly. "Yes, daddy's back safe and sound." The dragons chirped and nuzzled him with their snouts - like Balerion, Rhaegal, and Edderon used to.

Reassuring his daughters that he had returned, Jon looked at his long lost love gaze upon the sight in pleased wonder. "You reacted better than Sansa did when she first met them." With the blood of the dragon, she wouldn't be as shocked.

"Of course." She cleared her throat, the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "I just wasn't expecting more… I thought my dragons were the only ones."

"I was surprised myself, believe me." Noticing Dany for the first time, each dragon stared intently at her. Suddenly they all leapt from Jon. Circling the silver-haired Queen, they excitedly landed and nuzzled her as well - Dany laughed merrily at the attention. "Allow me to introduce you. This is Sansenya, after my sister." Moving his finger to the other dragons, his smile suddenly fell. Jon hesitated, nervousness seizing him. "This is Lyanarys, after my mother. And Rhaella… after my grandmother." The last words hung in the air, silence between them other than the chirping dragons.

Biting her lip, Daenerys met Jon's gaze. "So you know? You know the truth?"

Realizing that Dany knew as well, Jon let out a sigh. "Aye, I do." It did not need to be articulated, what they both meant. "My father… Ned Stark, told me by way of a letter he left with my uncle at the Wall. Same as with the dragon eggs, a present from my father… my real father to my mother." A tear left his eye, memories of their loving smiles and warm embraces from when he had died. He shifted back to Dany, who was wearing an unreadable expression. "Dany? Does this bother you?"

She shook her head, joy spreading across her face. Soft yet firm hands grasped his. "Blood of my blood." Dany had never truly believed in Gods, or fate, but seeing the one she so loved turn out to be someone so close… so intertwined in their destinies - it proved to her there was something higher in the world. "Jaehaerys Targaryen. My family, one who does love and care for me." Tears ran down her face. "We are meant to be together, Jon." Dany could notice a sadness in his eyes. "Are you bothered by it?" Her heart clenched at the thought that he might.

Jon sighed. "It was hard at first, Dany…" A flash of pain and heartbreak crossed her violet eyes. "No… not like that." Jon cursed internally, hating himself for starting that way. Raising her hand, he kissed it lovingly, feeling her relax. "I loved my father, more than anything. It killed me not to be his son. Then I was…" He paused, not wanting to tell Dany of his death like this. "I saw him, and my real parents in a vision. They told me it was alright. That we were destined to be together." Now it was his turn to softly cry. It should have felt weak, but for the first time in his life he felt truly safe with someone. To let go and be loved. "I love you, Dany. You are my family."

Warmth and tenderness filled Dany at that moment, the Dragon Queen falling deeper in love with her beloved northerner. "Oh, Jon. My family." Stroking her thumb across the rough skin of his hand, Dany moved to embrace him. "I never really had a family, Jon. My mother died giving birth to me, and my brother was cruel with bitterness. He told me upon my learning about Drogo, that he would sell me as a whore to the entire Dothraki horde for his throne - then he'd take me for himself to make a pure heir." Dany felt Jon tense. He didn't have to speak for her to know that he was planning to kill Viserys at this point. "My love." She pressed her lips to his, calming him. A tender look crossed her face, softly reaching up to cup his cheek. His close beard prickled her skin. "I know you would never do that to me. We are meant to be together, this only proves it."

Jon pulled her back into him. "You will never know that pain again, I swear it. I'm your family, as are Robb, Sansa, and Rickon. You'll always have love." He hoped the words, mushy as they sounded to him were calming for her - what did he know of romance and feminine wants? His time with Dany had been short and Ygritte was not one for that.

A loud roar caught their attention. The three dragons began screeching in response, taking flight and diving out the window. "Looking for their brothers." Smiling wide, the Dragon Queen crossed the small distance between their heads and crashed their lips together. "The best things that happen to us," Dany said between deep kisses, "Me coming to you, ending up in your room."

"Our first night together," Jon mumbled happily against her lips, remembering those same words. "It is now the first of many." He let out a groan as the nimble fingers of his dragon ghosted on his chest underneath his tunic.

Desire and hunger coursed through her system at his hard muscles. It was a foreign feeling after so long, but feeling Jon's tongue dance with hers and his body close against hers brought the memories and familiarity crashing back. "Mmmm," she purred as he began to caress her sides. "My dragonwolf." Her core clenched at the intensity and passion that Jon exuded when with her. She wanted more. She needed more. Reaching for his tunic, Daenerys quickly slipped it off him to finally get skin to skin…

By the time Jon finally realized what had happened, the strangled gasp had already left Dany's mouth. 'Shit.' Eyes wide and centered on his scars - the scars of that fateful night - her hand flew to cover her mouth. He could see the tears cloud the lovely violet orbs. "I didn't intend for you to find out this way," he offered sadly. Jon had planned to ease her into it, but when in bed the Dragon Queen was… irresistible.

"It wasn't just a dream," she murmured, gasping again. "You really did die." There weren't many weaknesses for Daenerys Targaryen, the scared and meek girl hardened and honed by experience. Jon was one of them however, and the Mother of Dragons melted aside as the truth about her love was unearthed. Dany allowed Jon to pull her into an embrace, clutching to him desperately and burying her face in his warm chest. "I did lose you that night."

'She felt it.' Jon wasn't surprised. As the battle showed, their connection was strong. "Dany…" He rubbed circles in her back, trying to calm her. "I'm here. Listen to my heartbeat. I'm alive."

Daenerys could hear it, feel it thudding against her cheek. It soothed her sobs. She clutched at him ever tighter. "I could have never gotten to have you again." 'But I did.' The skin under here eyes streaked with tears, Dany pulled back. A trembling finger moved to trace the most prominent scar. Right over his heart, courtesy of Alliser Thorne. "H… how?" Who did the Targaryen Queen have to feed to Balerion for nearly taking her dragonwolf from her.

Guiding her to sit on the bed, Jon kept her close to him. "I brought the Wildlings south of the wall, and some of the men didn't agree." Dany looked up at him, listening intently. "The Night's Watch… we've fought the Wildlings for millennia. And I let them south. It… caused a lot of disagreement and the former Lord Commander stabbed me through the heart. Robb executed him."

"But how did you live?" His heartbeat calmed her, soothed her sadness.

"The red witch brought me back with fire, and thus the dragons were born." Jon kissed the top of her head.

Dany gave him an astonished look, one filled with awe and love. "The unburnt." No words were ever needed between them at this moment. At this point, only one thing could reassure them that each was there to stay. Together, forever. While previous movements were rushed and desperate, the kiss now shared was slow and needy. One of reassurance as well as lust. Dany's hands weaved into Jon's dark hair, grabbing onto the thick strands.

Tongue dancing with hers, Jon moved to the tight, woolen dress still draping her form. Unbuttoning the clasps deftly, soon her skin was bare to him. Gods, the years had left her even more beautiful than before. "Dany."

Her hands tugged on his breeches. "Off," Dany said in a commanding, low voice. "Get them off, Jon."

"Anything for my Queen," he replied, stoking the flames of desire ever hotter inside Daenerys. Whatever clothes left on melted away, leaving them both naked and intertwined sensually. "I missed these, my dragon." Jon smirked, kneading her breasts.

"Mmmmm, they missed you… oh Jon!" He had taken a nipple in his mouth, latching on like a newborn babe. Her fingers tangled in his hair. "Gods, don't stop."

Stop he didn't. The two lovers lost themselves in each other. Bodies tangled together, they rolled around on the bed in their passion. After lavishing her breasts, Jon rolled back on top of her and stared into the amethyst eyes he loved so much. Her hair glistening in the low light of the crackling fireplace - she was breathtaking. "Dany. My queen."

Daenerys ran a hand along his shoulder, marveling at the strong and virile man above her. His expression was one of rapture and love. "My King… please." Fusing their lips together, Jon wasted no time in pushing inside her. Dany moaned into Jon's mouth. 'Yes! Fuck, yes!' It had been so long, but worth it. Finally having Jon inside her, where he belonged. The one man she ever loved.

"Fuck, Dany," Jun mumbled as they kissed desperately. He began to rock inside her, feeling her tight walls constrict around him. She was so wet, so desperate for him. Had Daenerys Targaryen demanded anything of him at this moment he would have given in. Such was the hold she had on Jon Snow. Breaking their kiss, he began to lick her neck, coaxing a deep moan that drove him wild.

The sensations made Dany see dragonfire. "Oh, oh, oh." Her love was claiming her, making her his - she always was, even when Drogo and Daario shared her bed. They were nothing, compared to Jon Snow. Jaehaerys Targaryen. "Please. Harder, my dragonwolf." Dany wouldn't last long. Neither would Jon, both missing this so much. She pulled his hair back and resumed their hungry kiss. A scream echoed down his throat as Jon picked up the pace. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck.' Her walls spasmed. "Jon!" The flame enveloped her in warmth and pleasure.

Her climax triggered his, Jon feeling his seed empty rapturously into his Queen. They kissed the whole time, riding out their pleasure wrapped together. But soon the kiss was broken, both panting from the ride. Letting out a groan into the soft, flushed skin of his lover's neck, Jon lazily rolled to the side. Acting quickly in the chilled room, he pulled the furs to cover the both of them. Dany breathed a happy sigh and curled up against him. Holding each other. Burying his face in her silver locks to inhale her scent. It felt so… right.

Basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Dany pressed her entire body to his under the covers. The warmth radiating off their skin banished the northern chill. She ached to be close to him in every way. "My dragonwolf, if you are to be a proper Targaryen King, there will be something you need to learn."

"I already know how to ride a dragon, my queen." The husky way he said it sent shivers down her spine. "Both types."

Furrowing her brows, it took a moment for Daenerys to understand his innuendo. She flushed, smacking him on the chest. "Stop it." Dany couldn't help her laugh. It was just delightfully intimate and loving between them. "You're going to have to learn Valyrian."

"Will my tutor be you, or someone else?" Jon asked innocently. She peered up at him, curious. "I doubt you would find it honorable for me to try and distract someone else." His voice was flat, but his grey eyes danced with amusement.

She smacked his chest. "Shut up." They both smiled, Dany leaning up to begin a sensual, slow kiss - one of their shared love. Only for it to break upon his wide yawn. "Tired, my dragonwolf?"

"Ayyyyee," he lazily drawled. "Battle does that to a person, my dragon."

Snuggling into his chest, a feeling so long missed, Dany kissed his scar. "I love you, Jon. No matter where I was - the Great Grass Sea, Astapor, Meereen - I never stopped."

Drowsiness overcoming him, Jon held her tightly. "I love you too, Dany. North of the wall, on those dark nights, you were the one thing that kept me alive. That kept me going." The last thing he felt before the darkness of sleep coaxed him into it was the feel of Daenerys Targaryen's smile against his chest.

Eyes sliding open, Dany peered into the darkness of the Lord's bedroom. The fire had died sometime in the night and left the room quite cold. It was a foreign feeling to her, having lived all her life in warm climes. However, the thick blankets and something warm to nestle beside kept the chill at bay.

Through the low moonlight she stared at the sleeping form of her beloved. Daenerys softly cupped his cheek, Jon's soft breathing causing her heart to catch. He was out cold, the exertions of the battle and their lovemaking draining even his youthful stamina. In sleep, the true heir to the Seven Kingdoms looked so peaceful. So relaxed and unburdened. Leaning up, Dany kissed his jaw. "My beloved." No victory, no crown could compare to the feeling of being with Jon Snow. Once they were both reunited with the twins, her family would be complete.

Slowly, carefully, Daenerys inched her way out of the bed. Jon's strong arm wrapped around her made it difficult. She managed however, instantly feeling both the cold and the loneliness - not to mention the soreness between her legs in which she grinned slightly at. Slipping her dress and Jon's warm cloak over her nude form, Dany watched as Jon turned onto his side, hugging the pillow. "Mmmm, Dany," he mumbled in his sleep. 'Oh, my love.' Even in his sleep he couldn't stop thinking about her.

Stepping out of the door, Dany took one more look at her sleeping dragonwolf. She hated to leave him even for a moment, but there was something she needed to do.

Curled up by the door, Ghost's furry white head quickly perked up when Dany entered the hallway. Better than any guard - a pony-sized direwolf. The silver-haired Targaryen ruffled his head, Ghost's ears tilting back in relaxed delight. "Stay here, boy. Protect him for me." The direwolf licked her hand. "I'll take that as a yes." Grabbing a torch mounted on the wall, Daenerys proceeded down the hallway.

Nearly five minutes later, Dany cursed in Valyrian under her breath. The corridors of Winterfell were tight and winding, unlike the spacious, airy passageways of the Great Pyramid of Meereen. 'Is that the same lantern that I passed twice…' Further curses tumbled out as she headed for a new corner, frustrated at the prospect of twisting and turning all night through the…

Twin gasps echoed, Dany turning the corner to nearly run into someone. Stepping back several paces, her fear dampened at the sight of red hair. "Lady Sansa."

Breathing deeply, Sansa nevertheless recovered her bearings and curtseyed - noble training kicking in. "Your Grace." She couldn't help but noticing Jon's cloak around the Dragon Queen and what it signified. 'Good, he deserves to be happy.'

A soft hand guided Sansa upright once more. "No need for formalities. You're Jon's sister. You may call me Daenerys." This was the woman who would be her sister when she and Jon were eventually wed - the thought sent joy through her system.

The Dragon Queen was nothing like what Sansa had imagined Targaryens to be. Of course the conquering dragonrider showed up on the battlefield, but the vicious monster - like Viserys - was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the Targaryen before her was caring and loving. Someone she could tell was worthy of her beloved brother. It would take a while for her to open up, or to fully trust Dany as Jon did, but Sansa resolved she could try. "Alright, Daenerys. Please call me Sansa, in that case." She smiled softly.

Dany returned the smile. Looking back at the corridor, she let out a defeated sigh. "I seem to have gotten lost."

Imagining the great Daenerys Targaryen befuddled by simple corridors caused Sansa to giggle. "Believe me, if I didn't grow up here I'd be hopelessly lost as well. Where are you heading?"

"To find my brother." Dany scowled. "I need to see him."

The scowl was returned by Sansa, any friendliness draining from her eyes. It… was so familiar to Daenerys. She had seen it in the mirror many times. Haunted. Bitter. "He's locked up in the kennels with Ramsay. I'll take you." Side by side, the two women stalked through the corridors. Not a sound echoed but the flicker of torches and the soft patter of their boots. "Your brother, was he always such an asshole?"

Sansa's blunt question caused Dany to snort. "Not always. He was very kind in youth, but years of poverty and blind ambition made him bitter. Cruel even."

"Did he…" Sansa wasn't sure why she was probing… perhaps she wanted someone who understood her pain. Jon and Robb loved her and would kill Ramsay if she asked, but they didn't understand. "Did he hurt you?"

Dany closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "He used to, if I disobeyed or disturbed him. He'd also say how he would force me to bear his 'pure' children." The memory hurt, but Dany steeled herself. She wasn't that scared girl anymore.

"So did Ramsay." Dany swiveled her head, shocked. 'So that's what it was.' The silver-haired queen had known it was so familiar. "He… enjoyed it."

"I'm sorry, Sansa."

The redhead shrugged. "He's going to die tonight, so it doesn't matter. What really hurts is my family. Jon, Robb, and Rickon are alive, but Arya isn't. Bran isn't." A tear fell from her cheek.

'Bran, oh Gods…' Dany had forgotten about him. "Your brother is alive." Sansa's eyes lit up. "Your mother… she arrived in Meereen. Bran was with her."

A desperate hand clutched her arm. "Bran is alive, and coming here?"

"No." Some of the excitement fell, but the relief was still there. "But he's alive and well in Essos. It slipped my mind, but… I'll tell Jon after." They entered the snowy courtyard, Dany tightening Jon's cloak around her.

Just as they were ten feet away from the kennels, Sansa tugged on Dany's arm, holding her back. "Is there something else you haven't told my brother, Daenerys?" She crossed her arms, scowling.

Biting her lip, Dany could tell that the northern woman could see right through her. They were alike, strong women born through hardship. It bequeathed to them a keen understanding of the other. She couldn't hide this from Sansa. Given they were basically family, Dany didn't want to.

"I'm waiting." Her eyes were cold.

"Jon…" Dany sighed. "Jon has children." Blue eyes widened, Sansa's jaw dropping. She obviously hadn't expected that. "After he left Pentos, I found out I was with child - I bore him twins."

Sansa didn't know what to say. She'd thought the Dragon queen would have had some political betrothal or a lover back in Essos, not that Jon would be a father. "Are you sure they're his? You were married to the Dothraki leader." It had been the talk of King's Landing a month before Joffrey became king.

A wide, dreamy smile formed on Dany's face. "They look so much like him." The smile fell when she noticed Sansa still scowling. "With all that happened… it just didn't seem like the right time to burden him." Dany felt terrible, but with Jon's nature she needed to tell him when he couldn't panic or hate himself.

Opening her mouth to scold the Dragon Queen, Sansa shut up. The more she thought about it, Dany was right. Jon would brood and hate himself, and he needed his rest and happiness after the battle. "I understand… but you need to tell him tomorrow - or I will." Her voice was as firm as Valyrian steel. The frown changed to a soft smile when Dany nodded. "I was an aunt all this time. What are their names?"

Joy filled Dany, imagining their father playing with them in Dragonstone - which would happen soon. "Rhaegar after my brother… and his father, and Arya after his other sister."

Sansa chuckled. "I get his dragon and Arya gets his daughter. I guess I know where the pecking order stands."

"The dragons are our children, Sansa. They are as much mine as the twins. By naming Sansenya, Jon shows how much he loves both his sisters." The two smiled at each other, before a groan from the kennels caught their attention. "Shall we?" Sansa nodded decisively.

Blinking, lids heavy with pain and fatigue, Ramsay lifted his head. It felt as if a bag of stone was holding it down. Trying to wipe away the muck coating his face, his arms wouldn't move. "What… the fuck…" They were bound He gazed around in the blurry surroundings. "Sansa?" There she was, standing in front of him - the Dragon Queen beside her. "So you've brought a guest, dearest wife."

"You are a disgrace to our House, slut sister." In a locked adjoining cell was Viserys. The cell happened to be the most rancid and shit-filled. It was clear they had been arguing for some time before he woke up. Spitting at her, Viserys did his best to look regal in the shit-lined cell. "First you rule over horse barbarians, and then slaves, and now you sully the bloodline with the bastard son of the Usurper's dog and some Stormlands whore!"

It was obvious to Sansa that the Dragon Queen loved her brother, loved him desperately. Rumors of her exploits in Essos and how Daenerys loved her people there - even those enslaved. One in particular came to mind, how she had the cruellest masters in Meereen crucified for doing the same to young slave girls. Sansa waited for the inner Dragon to release itself at Viserys' insulting ways. 'Gods know he deserves it.'

To her surprise, Daenerys' lips morphed into dark smirk. Sansa raised an eyebrow. 'Why does she… oh.' She smirked as well. "You are mistaken, beloved brother, on the third. Jon is no bastard."

"What are you talking about?" Viserys asked, rage clouded by puzzlement. Ramsay was listening intently.

Still smirking, Daenerys looked at Sansa, permitting her to do the honors. The former Lady of Winterfell eagerly took the task. "Jon is trueborn, the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, your older brother and Crown Prince." The sight of the paling Prince Viserys made her feel oddly content. "He is the true King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"So you see, dearest brother, Jon is what you could never be. Both the best of blood - Valyrian nobility and the Kings in the North - and the best in leadership." The Dragon Queen leaned close to the bars, violet eyes blazing dragonfire. She could tell he knew it to be true, by how he shook from the terror of his birthright ripped away. "You are nothing, compared to him. You are no Targaryen, no King."

Silence reigned for what seemed like an hour. Suddenly a giddy laugh pierced the void. "Oh my Gods!" Had Ramsay not been tied to his chair, he likely would have bawled over in pure mirth. "You dumb, fucking cunt." He hadn't laughed so hard since torturing Theon Greyjoy. "You know, when I was planning on killing you as soon as I had a baby with Targaryen blood." The train of thought was punctuated with even more laughter. Viserys stared at Ramsay, eyes wide as saucers at how deeply he had been deceived. "I thought no one could stand in front of me to take the Iron Throne. But there was one… the Stark bastard… and not even a bastard…" The giggles continued, eyes boring in on the two women. "I could die happy knowing that no matter what, my king, that you'll never know one day of ruling."

"Die happy, Ramsay?" Daenerys watched as Sansa's satisfied smirk fell, facade returning. She scowled as well, looking at the man who nearly butchered her beloved. "Your House will die. Your name will be forgotten, a mere afterthought in the story of how the Starks and Targaryens reclaimed their realm. But if you insist…" Something dark swirled in those blue eyes. "I will oblige you." Reaching for an axe handle, she hit the bars with a resounding clang.

Our trotted several large dogs, fur black and dark grey. They circled their master. Ramsay chuckled. "My hounds would never harm me."

"You didn't feed them for seven days, you said so yourself."

"They are loyal beasts."

"Valar Morghulis, Ramsay Bolton." Dany watched as the dogs sniffed at him with the same righteous judgement that found the vicious masters crucified, ignoring his commands to heel. "All men must die, and the evil always pay the price eventually." She was proven right when the dogs lunged forward, starved bites ripping at their master's body.

Silently, the two women walked away, a bond forged between them. Huddled in the corner of his cell, Viserys closed his eyes, the screams and engorged barks ringing in his ears.

"Stop looking like you want to collapse drunk," Walder Frey snarled at his two guards. It was dank in the empty great hall, flickering torchlight stille leaving a dark pallor over the Lord of the Riverlands - he wasn't looking forward to what he'd have to do to keep that title. "Seven fucking hells, after my idiot bastard killed off my best men, I have to walk around with you two cunts keeping the assassins off my back." Though nothing would compare to the indignity of having to crawl back to Tywin Lannister now that the Bolton bastard and his Targaryen idiot failed.

"Yes, my Lord," one guard murmured. The other stood mute.

At least Jon Snow couldn't head south without the Twins. 'And if the dragon bitch does anything, I'll burn it all down.' Perhaps making the Blackfish besiege his own castle would be in order. 'I might have him watch as his nephew is gutted from the battlements.' The prospect made the old Lord grin. "Where's my dinner!" The grin didn't last long.

Out scurried a servant girl with a plate in hand. "I'm sorry, my Lord."

"About damn time," Frey croaked, salivating at the steaming meat pie. "I'm bloody starving here, useless cunt." The girl put it on his plate, placing a knife and fork behind it. "Where's my damn son? If he's putting his cock in some servant girl's bumhole again…"

"He is here, my Lord." The girl then said. A confused look crossed Walder Frey's face before the girl pointed to the pie. "Right, here." One guard leaned over in curiosity, the other still and mute. Pulling the crust aside, Frey uncovered a thumb amongst the ground meat.

Bile rose in his throat. "What…"

"It was hard to do," the girl droned, "Grinding him up. He put up a fight, and his flesh was stringy. Then again, you Freys aren't the healthiest of noble houses." The curious guard moved to draw his sword, but the other drew a hammer far quicker and bashed in his skull. A thud resonated as the corpse fell to the ground, Frey's eyes darting in panic between the surviving guard and the serving girl.

His eyes widened in terror when the girl reached for her chin and… pulled off her face. Underneath was a younger girl with short hair, wearing a small smirk of triumph. "My name is Arya Stark of Winterfell. I wanted the last thing you ever see, Lord Frey, to be a Stark smiling above you." Attempting to flee, the guard behind Walder Frey gripped his shoulders tightly, holding him in place.

Without a shred of remorse or hesitation, Arya drew her blade and sliced across the Lord of the Riverlands' throat. Blood spurted out, air sputtering from his lungs creating frothy red bubbles. Soon the struggles stopped, the last gasp of Walder Frey echoing through the hall at the height of his power.

Looking down at Arya, Gendry nodded. "Winter has come for House Frey."

Arya smiled at her lover. "The north remembers."