These Are The Things I Like...

falls in love with women on TV shows, British and I don't drink tea (which I think may be treason). 

[aenarsnow-deactivated20211011]

Someone You Loved

A/N: It's finally finished!!!!!! 15,950 words later, we finished it!!!! Holy shit was this hard yet fun to write. @blackhawkschild-blog is very, very naughty and should not have so much support in bullying me into helping her write what she wrote 👀👀👀 Anyways, hope you all enjoy this one. I'm going to go make dinner now.

Summary: The world was cruel, its people crueler and the Gods worse. The Gods rolled the dice and their toys paid the price. Such was the game of thrones and the pawns who had to pay the price for their kings and queens. People like him didn’t get to be happy. People like him didn’t get to be loved. To have a home. But why did losing the one person who felt like home hurt so much?

"Now the day bleeds Into Nightfall And you’re not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved" ~Lewis Capaldi, Someone You Loved

“You never loved me, did you?” The words were quite as they left his lips while he stared out onto the sea, hands behind his back. He couldn’t look at her. Not when it was so close for him to say goodbye.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Ever since the news had been announced, he hadn’t looked at her. Hells, this was the first time he had been alone with her in weeks. “I never meant to hurt you,” she answered instead. She never intended to hurt him. Nor had she planned to fall in love with him. But this was the life they had to live. Play the game of thrones to save the world they lived in. Kings and Queens didn’t live for themselves after all. “I’m sorry, Jon.” He turned then. His eyes were rimmed red from unshed tears. Or too many. Her heart broke. She never wanted this. Not for him. Not for them.

“I was just another pawn for you to use, right?” His fists were clenched at his sides. “You never loved me. And now you’re going to marry a man you haven’t even met.” He swallowed, tearing his eyes from her once again. “Why did I ever think you were different?” She played him for a fool; and he’d followed her like a pup on a leash.

“That’s not fair,” she shot back, anger flaring. She didn’t like this anymore than he did. But she couldn’t just throw in her lot with her only relation. “You need to carry on the Targaryen name! I cannot!” It was the only logical choice. No matter how it tore her apart. “You’re being selfish, Jon.”

Gone was the calm, watchful Lord he had become, replaced with the scarred, wounded warrior ready to lash out. He rounded on her, chest heaving with anger - or hurt - as fresh tears threatened to fall. “Tell me,” he demanded, like a masochist looking for another hit. “Look me in the eye and tell me you hate me.”

Biting her lip, she shook her head to fight off her own tears. She didn’t want this. “I hate you.” The words were a whisper. And a lie. A necessary lie, but a lie nonetheless. She wanted him to take her in his arms. Wanted to marry him in the Godswood at Winterfell. She wanted him. But she wasn’t allowed to have him. To keep him.

He sneered then, the damaged boy he kept hidden surfacing from behind his broken armour. “I loved you. I trusted you. And yet, you’re just like everyone else.” His voice broke, the sound almost breaking her. “No one could ever love a bastard like me. Not even Daenerys Targaryen.” He stalked past her, intent on never setting a foot south of the Twins again. He shouldn’t have left the Wall. He should never have been brought back. “Goodbye, Dany.” Leaving his heart at her feet, the door slammed shut behind him, tears finally sliding down his cheeks. It had been a fool’s hope to think he even had a chance. A fool’s hope to have dreamed of a life together. He should have known that bastards like him didn’t get to have a happy ever after.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as his footsteps faded away. Stumbling to a chair, she clasped a hand over her mouth as she tried to stop the sobs from coming. “I’m sorry,” she breathed to the empty room, the memory of Jon’s broken face haunting her. She didn’t know how long she sat there before Missandei appeared, the younger woman pulling her into a hug as the tears continued to stream down her cheeks. How much more heartbreak could she take before she had nothing left to give? How much strength did Jon have before he broke? Curling into her best friend’s arms, she could only pray they had enough.

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The North wasn’t the escape he had hoped it would be when he retired from Dragonstone. It was cold. Bitter. Empty. Like a voice, missing everything that made it home. It wasn’t home. It wasn’t his home. There would never be a home for bastards like him. Because bastards like him didn’t know love. Bastards like him didn’t deserve to be loved. He should never have fallen in love with her. He should never have trusted her with his scars. With his heart. To her, it was all a game and he was just another pawn to use. He should have known. The world was cruel, its people crueler and the Gods worse. The Gods rolled the dice and their toys paid the price.

Scoffing, he made his way through the snow banks, his mind a mess of memories that tormented him. Hope. Home. Love. It had all been a lie. Dangled in front of him before it had been ripped from his fingertips. Not enough. Never enough. He’d never been enough. Enough for the Starks. The Wildings. Daenerys.

Sinking to the ground, he stared out onto the frozen lake from his perch high up on the cliffs. It would be so easy just to fall, let the Gods take their final piece of him. No sound escaped him even as the tears began to slide down his cheeks. The moon shone while the rest of the world seemed to sleep. No one could see his pain, to see the armour he had carefully built up around him cracking and tumbling. He couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat, his vision blurry with the pain that threatened to break him.

He wanted to scream. Scream at the world. At the Gods. At her. But all he could do was grab at his stomach, both holding his breath and being unable to breathe. Because in that moment, he knew he was truly, deeply alone in this world.

And wasn’t that a cruel reality?

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Her hair was a mess from his hands. It was the first thing he noticed as he ran his hands through the skewered braids as she rested her head on his chest. Her eyes were closed even as she traced her index finger along the scar above his heart. Since his return, the area around his scars had felt cold, especially around his heart. As if he had lost a part of himself with his death. But when Dany touched him, he felt the most alive he had ever been. The darkness that had come back with him, the darkness that drained any happiness - any positive emotion - from him, seemed to fade away when she was with him. When she smiled at him, it was like she lit up the room, chasing his darkest demons away. The angel to his devil. The fire to his ice.

“I can hear you thinking,” she murmured, lips pressing against his bare flesh. He grunted, throat dry from sleep and the night before. She lifted her head, grinning at his sleepiness before she moved, straddling his torso as her hands ran over his defined warrior muscles. His body reacted accordingly, responding to her touch in a way only she could get him to respond. He’d never had this before, felt like this before. Not when Theon had brought him to the brothels. Not with Ygritte. He’d only ever felt this happy, this free, with Dany.

“I was thinking of how lucky I am,” he whispered, his words catching her off-guard as she paused above him. Her eyes softened as he sat up, her weight falling to his lap as he brought his hands up to cup either side of her face. “I am lucky to be here with you. To have your trust and kindness. Lucky that you didn’t roast my foolish hide for speaking to you as I did.” He smiled at the real snort that escaped her even as she shook her head. To see the girl - no, the woman - beneath her royal facade was a true gift. One he could hardly dream of matching. All he had to give was himself. He only hoped it was enough. “And you’ve saved me,” he breathed, her eyes snapping back from where they had been tracing over his scars. Swallowing, he pressed on, needing her to know, to understand. “Not just Beyond The Wall but from myself. The darkness inside me, the one that came back with me… It doesn’t haunt me, doesn’t sound so loud, when I’m with you.”

He watched her swallow before his name escaped her lips in a breathless whisper. And then her mouth dropped to his, her own hands cupping his jaw and tilting his head back. He smiled into the kiss, the two of them laughing into the other’s mouth before he was rolling them down onto the furs. Neither of them were ready for those three words, not yet. But he could show her. With his lips, his fingers, his cock. And if she so wished, he would help her prove that witch wrong. Because with Dany, the old fear of becoming a father didn’t seem to scare him as it once did.

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The waves crashed against the rocks as she stared out onto the sea, head and body resting against the stone pillar. She had dismissed Missandei, allowing her friend to spend time with Grey Worm instead of watching her wallow and pine over her lost love. Her friend had protested, not wanting to leave her alone. But in the end, the smaller woman’s stubbornness had won out. That was how Daenerys found herself staring out into the night from the Chambers of the Painted Table, the ache in her heart never fading even after the days and weeks passed. The pain on Jon’s face, in his words, haunted her every moment. It was she who had done that to him.

Their travels North, their journey from White Harbour to Winterfell, the months spent fighting the Dead and the Battle for the Dawn… Every moment they had spent together had her fall in love with him more and more until all that was left of her heart was consumed with him. Even after his brother had revealed his true parentage and left him lost, he still sought her company, her comfort. Trusted her to see him at his lowest, to learn all his secrets. To help him rebuild after he had learned his whole life had been a lie.

And then she had just tossed it all aside, like it had meant nothing. Like they had meant nothing. He and their relationship had meant everything to her. She did not wish to marry Willas Tyrell or the Prince of Dorne or any other Lord of Westeros who had paraded themselves in front of her after King’s Landing had been lost to Cersei’s madness and echoes of Wildfyre. She had lost both Jorah and Tyrion in the Wars and now she had lost Jon too. All because of a childish mistake she had made years ago; the mistake to trust that vindictive witch who took revenge on the two who had done her no wrong. Rhaego. Irri. Rakharo. Barristan. Jorah. Tyrion. All dead because of her mistakes. Viserion’s death still haunted her but she did not believe she could think of her actions as a mistake for she could never count Jon’s survival as a mistake.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed the wave of nausea that threatened to rise up her throat. She had brushed off Missandei’s concerns; it had been like this for a moon, starting only a week after Jon’s departure. It was stress. It had to be stress. The pain of the look of betrayal on Jon’s face. She had never truly known love before she met him. The sickness she felt was from losing Jon, losing their love. It couldn’t be… It couldn’t be anything else. No matter how much Missandei insisted that she have a Dothraki healer or a Maester look at her.

A knock at the door startled her, hand reaching for the dagger Jon had given her and trained her to use. Turning, she found one of her Unsullied Commanders standing at the door. “My Queen, traveller at the gates. Claims to be the She-Wolf.”

Terror crept up her throat. “Bring her to me immediately,” she ordered, mind racing even as the Commander nodded his head and left. A million thoughts entered her head but the most prominent, the loudest was: why was Arya here? What happened to Jon?

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“So you are the Queen my brother bent the knee to.” Daenerys tried not to startle at the sudden voice, turning to face her lover’s favourite sister. “I’d apologise but it wouldn’t be sincere.” She was small, like Daenerys, but there was no doubt that the young woman in front of her was Jon Snow’s sister. “I wanted to see you for myself.”

“And what do you see?” She was a Queen. She should not be so nervous to meet Arya Stark, the sister Jon had spoken so fondly of during their travels. That she wanted to have a lasting - positive - impression, to gain this young woman’s approval. “Do you see a foreign whore who seduced your brother? Or perhaps the Wicked Targaryen tyrant ready to enslave Westeros with her savages and madness?”

Arya smirked, head tilting slightly, just like Jon’s did. “Neither, actually,” she answered, words catching Daenerys off guard. “I see the woman who makes my brother smile. I see the Queen he trusts to lead us into a new era. I see the person he has given his heart.” The assassin smiled lightly then. “I’m happy for him. He was always the best of us. But he never gave himself the chance. Until he met you, it seems.”

Daenerys paused, eyes flickering to where Jon was training with the fresh Northern recruits. The most graceful warrior she had ever laid her eyes upon in her short life. “I dreamed of your brother,” she stated, the confession passing her lips before she had a chance to stop it. “During my time in Essos, as I gained my armies and my children grew I dreamed of him. “I am no ordinary woman, Lady Stark. For you see, my dreams come through.” And she had found her Shadow Lover.

“Then I know my brother’s heart is safe with you.”

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“He trusted you!” The She-Wolf of Winterfell was livid. “You promised not to hurt him, not to use him but you were a fucking liar!” Index finger lifted as she came closer, two Unsullied moving to intercept only to be waved away by their Queen. “How could you?! He loved you!”

“Arya, calm down!” Daenerys ordered, stepping down the dias until she was on level ground with the younger woman. “Your brother and I need no mediators on this matter; we have no other choice. You know this.” There were few who knew of the curse that had been placed on her womb. Fewer still who knew how much it was ripping her apart inside. But it didn’t matter; the world was cruel. And Kings and Queens did not belong to themselves. No matter how much they loved each other.

Arya’s head shook, tears pooling in the same grey eyes Jon sported. “You broke him.” The words were a strangled gasp, sharp like broken glass. They dug into Daenerys’ heart like Arya’s knives dug into her victims. “You broke him more than my mother could have ever hoped. She never loved him, made it a point to prove he was unloveable. And now you’ve succeeded where she failed.”

The dragon inside her roared, screaming at the injustice of it all, while Arya’s proverbial knives dug themselves deeper into her already broken heart. “You think I want this? You think I want to marry another Lord while the man I love marries another Lady? You think I’m okay with the idea that Jon will have children with another woman, children I cannot give him?” Her heart was a shattered piece of glass at her feet. “I am a Queen. A barren Queen. Jon is the last male Targaryen. It is our duty. No matter how we feel for each other.” She hated it. Hated that it was not she who would get to watch Jon become the great father she knew he would become. Hated that she would never get to hold a child of her own. A child she wanted with Jon. She hated that she had just over a year to have his love, to feel safe in his arms, to know she was not alone as they faced what had seemed certain death. She could only hope that the memories they had made would be enough for the rest of her life; because without him, she was alone once more.

“Jon never wanted that!” Arya shouted; if it wasn’t for the fact that she had been born to Catelyn Tully and Eddard Stark, one would confuse the She-Wolf for another secret Targaryen given her fiery temper. “He never wanted a pampered lady, he never wanted a family. Not until he met you. His Dragon Queen, his warrior dragon-rider. He. Wanted. You. All of the other things you’ve just mentioned… He never wanted them if it meant he couldn’t have you!” She had seen that when she had caught them looking at each other when they thought no one else was watching. She had seen the way her brother smiled - truly smiled. The confidence that seemed to only grow when Daenerys had named him the Commander of her armies, how he led their forces against the Dead and the Lannisters. Like a true King beside his warrior, dragon-riding Queen. Shaking her head, she sighed, “It doesn’t matter now anyways. When Jon came back, he said his goodbyes to us and returned beyond the Wall. Bran lost track of him a few days ago. I came here when it became clear Jon wasn’t coming back.”

Nausea threatened to throw her as those words sunk in. Half-stumbling, Daenerys sat down on the steps, fingers playing with her mother’s ring. Could Jon’s disappearance be linked to Rhaegal’s change in behaviour? Where had Jon gone that he had disappeared from the view of the Three-Eyed Raven? Was he even still… That thought trailed off before she could finish it. She couldn’t dare entertain the possibility. “Give me the night to prepare,” she stated, lifting her head from where she had been staring at her hands. Arya looked booth fearful and hopeful, nodding her head in agreement. “Get some rest. We’ll set out at first light.” Arya nodded again before one of the Unsullied stepped forward to lead the young assassin to her chambers.

Missandei appeared then with Grey Worm sending the remaining guards away, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in her own. “Will you please let the midwife look at you?” her friend pleaded, golden brown eyes imploring Daenerys to listen to her.

“What if she proves me right?” Her hands clenched around Missandei’s even as hope threatened to bloom in her heart. ‘Only death can pay for life.’ Those words haunted her mind. Had she not paid enough? She couldn’t lose Jon as well.

“Then you shall know regardless.” Missandei helped her stand, hands finding Daenerys’ elbows to steady her. “And if I am proven right… That means you won’t be alone anymore.”

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Had it all been for nothing? That thought plagued him as he dragged his injured body through the snow, doing his best to follow the half-frozen river towards the caves further along the path. It was colder the further he moved North. But yet there were some signs of Spring too; white drooping flowers springing up in sprouts of green, especially towards the banks of the rivers he had found along his travels. Even in his pain, his thoughts wandered to what ifs and could have beens.

Before Daenerys, he had never met anyone who had made him feel like he was enough. That he wasn’t a mistake. He couldn’t remember if he had ever told her that. Couldn’t remember if he ever told her that she made him feel like he was enough. But that was before their return to Dragonstone. Before Varys had revealed the last plan he had made with Tyrion before the Imp’s death during the Siege of King’s Landing. And now he was alone in the world once more.

North of Craster’s abandoned Keep, he finally collapsed, falling down the embankment until he handed beside a frozen part of the river. His body shook from the pain and shock of the bear attack. It had happened so suddenly that the former King in the North was unable to grab Longclaw to defend himself. His chest stung from where the claws had caught him, digging past the furs he had worn. His sword arm had been bent at an odd angle too, leaving him almost defenceless and useless in the wilderness of the True North. If it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of Rhaegal swooping down to aid Ghost in the direwolf’s loyal defence, Jon was sure he would have finally met his end. Ghost had joined him, a whining rumble sounding from the mute beast’s chest as he nosed at Jon before laying over him in an attempt to keep him warm.

Teeth chattering, Jon was distantly aware of Rhaegal’s return. The green beast curled around man and direwolf, the heat from the dragon keeping Jon from freezing to death if his wounds didn’t take him first. Jon was thankful for the warmth even as his eyes slid closed. The last thing that crossed his mind was why had Dany sent Rhaegal after him when she had already rejected him?

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“Dany, I don’t know about this,” Jon stated as he stared up at Rhaegal who was preening as his mother rubbed his snout. “Are you sure he won’t roast me?” He could hear her laughter beside him, the sound warming him up on the inside in a way he hadn’t known was possible. His eyes never left Rhaegal’s green ones until Daenerys’ gloved hand cupped his jaw and dragged his eyes away from his staring contest with her smaller child. Before he could question her motives, her lips found his in a deep kiss. Wrapping his arm around her fur-covered waist, he pulled her flush against him, taking everything she willingly gave him. He didn’t know how long they stood there, drinking from each other’s mouths before Daenerys pulled back, her lips kiss-swollen from his own.

“He won’t hurt you,” she whispered, the tone of her words leaving no room for argument. “A dragon needs a rider and I trust no one to keep my children safe more than you.” Her other hand rested above his heart, grounding him there in the present. There were not many people in the world who could claim they were trusted by the Queen and here she was trusting him with one of her precious children.

Pressing his forehead to hers, he rubbed his nose along hers. “I won’t fail you,” he promised, his voice low even as they were the only ones there. Far enough from the camp that no one else dared to close to the dragons but close enough that they could not be ambushed by any enemies. “I am honoured that you trust me this much, my Queen.”

Daenerys smiled, pressing a much chaster kiss to his lips. “I prefer when you call me, ‘Dany’,” she whispered as she pulled back to look up at him. “And I know you won’t, Jon Snow. You haven’t failed me since I met you.”

Forgetting her children were watching them, he bent his head to claim her lips once more. Trying to tell her without words just how much she meant to him. And he prayed she would understand.

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Despite the moons that had past, the North had seemed to get colder. Wrapped in her white furs, they didn’t stop the shiver that ran through her as Dragon landed outside the gates of Castle Black. Patter her deadliest child, he lowered his wing so she and Arya could disembark. Arya was less gracious in her landing than Daenerys, unused to the long flight on a dragon’s back. Helping the younger woman right herself, they approached the gates of the once abandoned Keep, only to be greeted by the loud, large red-haired wildling. “DRAGON QUEEN! LADY WOLF!” he roared in greeting, arms out wide with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “You two are a sight for sore eyes! Your green beast was only a few hours ahead of you!”

Well that answered that question. “Rhaegal was gone before we left this morning. I wasn’t completely sure of where he went but you’ve just confirmed my first suspicion.” They followed Tormund into the courtyard that had been filled with make-shift huts as the Wildings prepared to return beyond the Wall. “Did you see which way he flew? We think he’s gone after Jon.”

Tormund shook his head, shoulders slumping as he brought them inside the Keep. “You know we avoid those beasts of yours regardless of how many times they saved our arses.” They came to a stop at a table, a roasted rabbit waiting for them. It took Daenerys a moment or two to fight down the wave of nausea that threatened to upheave what little she had eaten that morning. “As for King Crow… He passed this way the week before last. He didn’t stay here long. Haven’t seen him like that since the Red Witch brought him back.”

The Mother of Dragons felt both sets of eyes on her, questioning and judging. “We need to find him,” she stated instead, ignoring the chance to confess what had happened during the last moments she and Jon had spent together. None of it mattered if they couldn’t find him. And she’d be damned if some else knew the truth before she told Jon. “So get me the most up-to-date map you have of beyond the Wall so we can find him before he does something reckless.”

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Bran’s news had rocked Jon to the core. Everything he had known, everything he had believed. It had all been a lie. Finding himself alone in the Godswood, he tried to make sense of the new information. But he didn’t know what to think, what to believe. He still didn’t understand why Bran had believed it was a good idea to tell him just as the Dead were getting ever closer. What was the point of dumping that information on him when they were so close to the War for the Living? Even at that moment, Jon still didn’t believe that he needed to know. It didn’t mean shit; his parents were dead. Whether it was Ned Stark and a nameless whore or it was Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, what did it matter? They. Were. Dead. And the Dead had nothing to offer the Living. No warmth. No kindness. No love. No words of comfort for a boy who had never wanted to be born. No comfort for a boy who felt like an outsider in his own home.

Swallowing, he pushed that thought to the back of his mind, lifting his head towards the stars, sighing as he watched fresh snow fall from the skies. He was so lost in his thoughts, he almost didn’t notice his companion padding through the snow with a familiar figure following the mute direwolf. She had covered herself in a black hooded cloak, a modified one of his that Missandei had altered. A weight lifted from his shoulders seeing her there with him, no judgement in his Queen’s eyes. His heart leaped into his throat as she hesitated to come closer, as if she was afraid he would push her away. And he couldn’t have that. It didn’t matter to him that they were aunt and nephew. It. Didn’t. Matter. “Dany,” he breathed when she was close enough that he could reach for her. And so he did just that, pulling her into his arms when she showed no sign of pulling away. It took some manoeuvring but they managed to position her across his lap with one arm wrapped around his shoulders. It was only then that she pressed a soft kiss to his cold cheek, his beard tickling her skin. “Did Ghost lead you to me?” he asked, wrapping both arms around her waist so he could hold her close. His companion’s tail thumped the ground happily at the mention of his name before he plopped down on the ground in front of them, the thud echoing around the otherwise quiet Godswood.

Daenerys hummed in an affirmative, bringing her other hand up to trail through his thick beard. “I wanted to give you some time and space but he was quite insistent that I follow him here.” Her words were soft even as her other hand started to play with the curls at the back of his neck. “You fled the room after Bran told us.”

There was no judgement in her voice, only concern. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve it but he was damn sure he’d fight to keep it. “I want you here with me,” he whispered, pressing his own kiss to the corner of her mouth just as she ran a thumb along the scar by his eye socket. “I came out here ‘cause my brain can’t figure out who I’m meant to be now.” The words escaped him in a gasped rush, his armour cracking under the weight of this new truth. But he didn’t feel scared to confess these thoughts to her. He was safe with her. His eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the way her fingers felt when she stroked them through his beard. “I feel so lost, Dany.” He had only just figured out who Jon Snow was. How was he supposed to know who Aegon Targaryen was? “Am I a Stark, a Snow or a Targaryen?”

But there was Dany, the warrior Queen to help him through it all. “You don’t have to choose,” she whispered, tipping his face up so that he would look her in the eye. “You are both Stark and Targaryen. You are Jon Snow, the man who owns this good heart.” Her hand fell from his face, pressing above his heart and the scar that had marred it. “The man who owns this heart… That’s the only man you have to be.”

The sound that escaped him could only be described as an inhuman whimper before he closed the distance between them, catching her lips in a desperate kiss. She gasped into his mouth, letting him push his tongue into hers before she was moaning, both of them trying to get closer to the other. As their tongues fought for dominance and she brought both hands to his hair, he couldn’t help but think that as long as he had her, he’d make it through anything.

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He dosed in and out, Ghost’s body a grounding weight over his own. The heat of Rhaegal’s body was almost stifling but Jon couldn’t really complain. But as the sky darkened above them and the stars were unveiled, he knew he was running out of time. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Rhaegal had dome alone so he doubted there would be anyone to find him before he bled out from his wounds.

Suddenly, a thunderous clap sounded above the embankment in the clearing where the bear had attacked him. Rhaegal roared then, moving to stand as a louder roar responded. Drogon. “Dany,” Jon coughed as Ghost stood too, teeth latching into the collar of Jon’s ripped furs. Groaning as his companion dragged him up the embankment to Dany and whoever else she had brought with her to find him. Maybe she had lied to him on Dragonstone, even as hope was something that he didn’t have much left of nowadays. The pain from his wounds came searing back through his veins, a pained groan leaving him as he let it drag him into darkness once more.

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A groan escaped his lips as the deceptively strong but petite Dragon Queen kept his hands pinned to the furs either side of his hips. His legs were spread to accommodate her body while she teased his cock with her lips and tongue, his bottom lip bitten raw red in an attempt to keep quiet. She grinned up at him, taking the head of his cock into her mouth as she teased the tip with her tongue. His stomach clenched as he tried to stop himself from bucking up into the warm cavern of her mouth. She was deadly, he decided, as she took her time with the fat, weeping head of him. Taking her time to explore him inch by inch. This time, he could not stop the groan that escaped him as she took as much of his cock into her mouth without gagging. Slurping. Sucking. Bobbing. Changing her rhythm just as he thought he had her figured out. He prayed that no one was close enough to her tent within the Dothraki camp who would throw him questioning, judgmental looks in the morning; he’d already learned that the Dothraki would be happy for their Khalessi unlike the prudish Westerosi.

She finally let go of his hands, using one of her own to stroke the base of his cock while the other played with his stones. Losing control of himself, his groans joined the sound of her choking on his cock until she had to breathe through her nose and pull back to give herself some more room for air. His hands found their way to her hair, pushing the loose locks from her face so he could watch her work her skillful, devilish mouth over him from his perch against the pillows. Her darkened purple eyes looked up at him from under hooded lashes as her swollen lips worked to make him spill. “Fucking hells. Dany,” he groaned, eyes rolling back as her cheeks hollowed around him with each suck. Her name ripped from him in a strangled roar as he started to spill, her mouth and tongue working together to greedily drink down every drop. His thighs trembled as she licked and sucked his cock until he was left a heaving, shuttering, mindless wreck on her furs.

She smiled, pulling back to use her fingers to gather any cum that had escaped her lips, sucking on her thumb and fingers to clean them while Jon lay panting, grey eyes hooded as he watched her hungrily. A wolf waiting to pounce. Satisfied she had caught everything, she removed her shift, leaving her as bare as he was. The low glow of the brazziers made her look like the goddess reborn that he believed her to be. The angel to bring him back from the dark road that he had once chased.

“You’re a menace,” he got out once he caught his breath, staring up at her as she crawled up his body and settled her weight on his stomach. He could feel just how wet she was, her juices coating his abdomen as she ran her hands over his chest and arms. She chuckled, leaning down to brush her lips over his in a soft tease. His own hands finally moved, his body recovered enough to run his palms and fingers up the length of her calves and thighs until he cupped her arse and pulled her closer. “You’re trying to kill me, love,” he mumbled against her lips.

“No,” she answered, smiling against his mouth as she nipped at his bottom lip. “Just treating you to something you should’ve had before me.” He grunted into her mouth when she rocked her arse back against his hardening cock. She smirked as his hands slid up her back until they rested just under her armpits. Then she was gasping as he lifted her up until she settled above his face. “Jon?” she breathed, heat pooling at the pit of her stomach as she looked down past her panting breasts to find him smirking up at her.

“Ride my mouth like you ride Drogon,” he requested, tongue teasing her bare folds like a wolf lapping at water. She whimpered, not expecting her lover to have such ideas given his past experience and chained away thoughts. Granted, she had long since learned that Jon’s wit and ideas were well guarded until he felt ready to share them. And now she found herself astride his mouth as his nose bumped her clit and his hands held her arse so that she could not move from her position. Giving into the lust that demanded she do as he asked, she rocked her hips in time with the strokes of his tongue.

A whimper escaped her, her hands finding their way into grasping his raven curls as she bowed over him. It was her turn for her stomach to clench while her eyes rolled back as Jon feasted on her cunt like a demon possessed. His hands kept her in place while his tongue lapped and curled around her pulsing clit. “Jon,” she moaned, his fingers slipping down to hold her lips apart for his tongue to explore further, teasing her as she had teased him. Then his thumb was brushing against the rim of her back entrance, her hips jolting in surprised delight before pushing back into his grip. “Kessa. Fuck. Jon. Kessa.”

He groaned into her cunt, enjoying her taste and the way she fucked herself into his mouth, her hips rocking and grinding down on his mouth. Coating his thumb in her juices, he pushed it past the spincer of her arse while his other hand moved to push two, then three, fingers inside her cunt as he wrapped his lips around her bundle of nerves. She cried out, the combination of his fingers and thumb moving in rhythm while he sucked hard on her clit. Nails digging into his scalp, fingers tightening around his curls, she bowed further over him as her hips stuttered and bucked under his administrations. She was dimly aware of him chuckling against her before his tongue was lapping up the mess he had made of her cunt. He gently removed his fingers and thumb, sucking his fingers clean of her juices while he wiped his thumb off in the furs. And then he was helping her lay on the furs beside him. “Jon,” she breathed when she caught her breath, eyes hooded as he leaned on one elbow, hand stroking her unbraided hair from her face.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to hers. She mewled softly at the taste of herself on his lips, her essence coated into his beard but she cared not. Wrapping a leg around her waist, she pulled him over her while her hands ran under his arms to grasp at his sculpted shoulder blades. “Dany.”

If it had been any other man to whisper those words to her, she would have scoffed. But this was Jon, a man incapable of being dishonest in such a way. “I want you,” she whispered instead, one hand slinking back around to reach for his heavy cock, her small hand barely able to wrap around his fat, weeping length. She squirmed as she rubbed the head of his cock along the seam of her cunt, coating him in the juices that didn’t stop coming once he had kissed her outside her tent after their return from his first dragon-riding flight. “Take me, Jon.”

He growled against her lips, letting her guide him to her entrance before he pushed inside. Their groans and moans were combined as he pushed in, a darker, primal part of him howling as she struggled the first two or three inches before he was sliding home. Nails digging into his bicep and shoulder blade, he caught her lips in a desperate kiss, the two of them caught up in the lust and the indescribable emotions as he waited for her to adjust to his length inside her. Groaning her name, he pulled his mouth from hers and rested his forehead against hers, eyes searching hers. For what, he wasn’t truly sure of but he just knew he needed to see it in her eyes. Needed to know she felt it too.

Her eyes fluttered open, finding Jon watching her. ‘Love comes in the eyes,’ an old voice whispered to her. Cupping his cheek, his beard prickly against her skin, she knew exactly what she felt for this man was love. A love she had never felt before. And just like that first night on the boat, Jon let out a shuddering sigh before diving down for her lips once more and feasting from her lips as he started to rock and roll his hips, grinding his pelvic bone in that way she loved as he fucked her into the furs. Moaning and gasping, she let herself be feasted upon by the wolf, one leg folding around his waist to pull him deeper. ‘Let everyone hear us,’ she thought as she bowed off the bed, her hips meeting his as his name left her throat in a strangled scream. ‘Let them hear that I am his and he is mine.’ And not even the Gods would steal away the love they held for each other.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

There was too much blood. Cloths and bowls coated in red. Her stomach threatened to retch as she watched the Wildling healers work quickly, wrapping his arm and torso. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Panic, fear, terror setting in with each moment that passed and his eyes still didn’t open. Praying to Gods she had long given up on that the last words she had spoken to him would not be her last. They replayed on a loop, torturing her. His face scrunched up in pain as tears threatened to spill. The lie leaving her lips; “I hate you.” His snarl, his sneering. His heartbreak.

“You never loved me.”

“Goodbye. Dany.”

Shaking her head, she bit back a gasp as she fought back those memories. No. No, those would not be the last words they spoke to each other. She couldn’t let that be the end for them. Not when she knew the truth now. She needed to tell him. To tell him he had been right all along. To tell him that the witch truly had been an unreliable source of information.

His favourite sister had joined her as the healers made it clear that they had done all they could. Now it was up to Jon and the Old Gods for him to make it through the night. “He’s a fighter,” Arya got out once they were left alone with Jon in the old Lord Commander’s chambers. Arya’s skin was pale as she took in the sight of her favourite brother lying motionless on the bed. “He’s beaten death once. He’ll do it again. I know he will.”

‘But how much more could he take before there was nothing left of the man they loved so dearly?’ She moved to the chair beside the bed, taking his uninjured hand in hers as she took in his sleeping face. She had always found him to look peaceful like this, eyes shut with no wrinkles, breathing deep as his chest moved steadily. Like this, he no longer bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, no longer chased death like it owed him a personal debt. Like this, there were no demons from his past to haunt him.

There was only one problem now; he believed she hated him. That she had used him. A lie she had told him so that he would leave her and find a woman who could bear him a heir to carry on the Targaryen name. Duty before love. Honour before selfish desires. How much pain had she allowed herself to inflict on them both. Trusting in the ploys of others instead of her heart’s desires. That was before Arya’s arrival on Dragonstone and Rhaegal’s change in behaviour forced her to face the signs she had been too scared to acknowledge.

Arya sat down on the other side, eyes wet as she struggled for words. How close had they come to losing him? How close were they still losing him? Ghost had slunk into the room, laying on Daenerys’ feet as he sighed and settled down to sleep now that Jon was safe. Someone - Tormund or Gendry, the former Baratheon bastard riding from Winterfell to join them - had cleaned the blood from the direwolf’s snow white fur, leaving the wolf as clean as he could possibly get. She ran a hand over the scruff of Ghost’s neck, closing her eyes as she was once again haunted by the sight of the direwolf dragging Jon’s prone and bloodied boy up from the bank of the river.

She brought Jon’s hand up to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the broken, bruised skin of his knuckles. ‘How long had he hid his suffering from those who love him the most?’ Her eyes slid closed, haunted by her thoughts. ‘How close had his demons come to taking him from us?’

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Hours slowly turned to days. She rarely left the warmth of the room, waiting and watching for any sign that Jon would open his eyes. Anything to prove to her that she hadn’t lost another person she loved. Arya came and went, unable to deal with the idea that Jon’s recklessness nearly cost him his own life. Ghost would have to go visit with her own children’ both Gendry and Tormund had reported they were beginning to get restless. But she found it hard to leave Jon’s side for long. His sleeping, silent side.

Her mind was plagued with questions of what could have been. Would he have stayed if she let him? If she had never let him go, never let him walk away. If only he knew that she still loved him more than she could say. That she had never stopped loving him. What if? What if? What if?

A sigh left her lips, turning her head from the window where she had been blindly staring out at the white, snowy horizon to instead look at Jon’s sleeping form. She would fix them, make things right. Tell him everything she had learned since the moment he had walked away from her in the Chambers of the Painted Table. This time, she wouldn’t give up on them without a fight. She only needed Jon to wake up.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Jon watched as the moonlight bounced off her silver hair, her many braids undone to let her waves flow down over the curve of her shoulders and back. Somehow, miraculously, they had defeated the Night King and his army of the Dead. Winterfell was under massive reconstruction, the common folk scattered across the North as they travelled back to their own regions now that one threat had been neutralised. Now they were travelling sound to deal with the mad tyrant lion parading around as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Stopping at Harrenhal, they camped out to rest for the night.

That was why Jon found himself resting on a bed of furs with Daenerys’ naked body draped over his own, her hair free from braids as he ran his hands through her soft, silver hair. He still couldn’t believe that she had chosen him. That she loved him. The memories of her confession, of his own, filled his heart; he was certain he hadn’t felt like this since he was a little boy. She had chosen him to trust him with her children, with her heart. And he wasn’t sure what he had done to earn her love.

“Jon, I can hear you thinking,” she mumbled against the bare flesh of his chest. The words so regularly shared between them both. Lifting her head, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Go to sleep, my love.”

Jon smiled against her lips, cupping the back of her neck to keep her mouth against his own. “Say it again,” he whispered, tongue and teeth teasing her bottom lip. “Please.”

A giggle escaped her, her happiness contagious. “My love,” she whispered, carding a hand through his raven curls. “My love. My love.” Repeated over and over until he rolled them over and showed her with his body what words could never explain. No poet in the world could explain what he felt for his Dragon Queen, the Queen of his heart. His Dany.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Everything hurt. It was the first thing he noticed as he started to gain awareness of the sounds and smells around him. Things were slowly starting to piece themselves together; he was no longer in the wilderness but rather a bed of furs. There was a fire crackling in a fireplace. And then he remembered Ghost and Rhaegal. Drogon. Dany. Groaning, he struggled to open his eyes. A hand held his won, squeezing as he focused on their words. He knew that voice. That smell of bath oils. Blinking his eyes open, he felt himself cast back to a moment in the past when he’d been in this very same position. A silver-haired figure was blurry even as she held onto his hand. “Dany,” he whispered, voice strangled from disuse. She was here. She was truly here. Or was she? “This is a dream.”

Daenerys let out a sobbing laugh, moving to sit on the side of the bed. One hand clasping his, the other brushing some stray curls from his face. “Then it is a good dream, Jon Snow,” she whispered, leaning over him to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You scared the shit out of me.” Pressing another kiss to his cheek, she pulled back to look him in the eye, relief flooding her veins to see him awake and alert, if a bit groggy.

It wasn’t a dream. She was really there. “Sorry,” he muttered, lifting his left hand weakly to cup her cheek. She had to catch it with her own and bring it the rest of the distance. Swallowing, he brushed his thumb along the apple of her cheek until he stopped at the corner of her mouth. And then their last moments came haunting back. She hadn’t wanted him anymore. She didn’t love him. They had been a lie. A mistake. Pulling his hand back, he watched her frown but he couldn’t help himself. He was a sucker for pain after all. “Why are you here, Your Grace? I believe your coronation and wedding are far more important than saving my foolish arse.”

Her frown deepened, head shaking as she squeezed his hand, stopping him from pulling away from her completely. "Jon…" She didn’t know what to say, where to start. How to fix the distance between them. How to tell him the news she had learned before she’d climbed onto Dragon’s back with Arya to come North to find him. Bringing his hand up, she pressed a kiss to his palm as she caught his eyes watching her. His own forehead was furrowed, confusion and exhaustion clear on his face. And a fearful hope in his eyes. One she wanted him to hold onto; and she hoped he could forgive her own fearful blunder. “I lied on Dragonstone. I never hated you. I never stopped loving you.” Her other hand moved to cup his cheek, thumb brushing along the scar that circled his eye socket. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry that I made you doubt I ever loved you. I’m sorry I hurt you the way I did.” There would never be a day that she would never regret what she had done to them. What she had done to him.

“Why?” he got out, voice croaked before he dissolved into a coughing fit. Daenerys was quick off her feet, helping him sit up slightly to relieve the pressure on his chest and lungs. Shoving an extra pillow behind his back, she helped him settle back onto the pillows, his body exhausted and shaking from the energy he’d just used. Tears pooled in his eyes, both from the coughing and the emotions that threatened to shake him. He grasped her wrist as she went to sit down on the chair beside the bed. Instead, she came closer to him, settling down on the bed beside his hip. “Why did you… Why push me away? I meant it when I said I only wanted you. That I’d never stop loving you, whether we had children or not. And you… You just threw us away. Threw me away.” Like they had meant nothing to her. Like loving him had been a mistake.

She could hear the pain, the heartbreak, in his voice. Arya had been right; she had hurt him in ways Catelyn Stark could never have hoped possible. She tilted his head towards her, eyes never leaving his unlike what she had done the last time they spoke. He would know the truth. She would never lie to him again. “I never stopped loving you. Not once,” she repeated. “I hated lying to you hated that I had to push you away the way I did so that you would leave me behind.” He grunted, protest ready on his lips. But he didn’t interrupt her, giving her the time to explain why she had done what she did. “Every night, in the safety of my chambers, I would cry myself to sleep because of what I did to us. Every piece of armour, every wall I built… They all came tumbling down without you.” She had to swallow down the lump in her throat, not wanting her tears to fall and blur her vision. “And then Rhaegal started to act out, not eating as he used to, not listening to me. And when Arya arrived, claiming Bran couldn’t see you anymore… I needed to find you. I needed to fix things between us. Needed to tell you the truth.”

For weeks, he had hoped - prayed, dreamed - that she had lied to him. That it had been a mistake for her to listen to Varys. And now he had her right in front of him, confirming those thoughts. And yet, he was still afraid. Afraid that she would push him away again. Afraid she would find someone better than him, someone less broken. Tugging on her wrist, he weakly shuffled over to give her more room. She immediately picked up on his silent request, laying down on her side to face him. He was far too weak to copy her but he twisted his head to look at her. She was careful of his battered, bruised and injured body, one hand coming to rest above his beating heart while the other came between the pillow and his head to cup his cheek. She fit against him as perfectly as she always had; he just didn’t know what he could do to keep himself by her side. “I wanted to die if it meant the pain and voices would fade away,” he confessed, her breathing hitching as she listened to him this time. “I missed you so much but I just wanted the pain to end. For the darkness to finally take me.” He was on a roll now, the words leaving him before he could stop them. “They wouldn’t stop haunting me. Telling me that I was a mistake. A burden. Unloveable.” He had to swallow, his eyes slipping shut as tears pooled in Daenerys’ eyes. “So I decided to travel North. As far as I could go to get away from the memories of us. But it never helped. Never made my memories, my dreams of you go away. And no matter how much I wanted to hate you, no matter how badly you broke my heart… I still loved you with all the pieces.” He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. But he wanted to fix them. He needed to fix them. If there was a chance to make things right, he would grasp it with both hands. Because he didn’t know what he would do if she pushed him away again.

The lump in her throat had come back with a vengeance. To hear his demons spoken aloud, to know the extent of the damage she had done… Her heart shattered into particles of ash. “I’m so sorry,” she breathed, swallowing down the sob that was threatening to escape her. His grey eyes slid back open, hooded from his exhaustion but just as patient as he’d been with her on a number of occasions before. Her fingers threaded through his unkempt, prickly beard. “I never meant to hurt you like that. I never wanted to hurt you at all. If I could take those words back and curl myself in your arms like I had wanted to, I would.”

He managed to get his good arm under her waist and pull her weakly into a hug. This was the Dany he knew and remembered, the Dany who trusted and loved him. Gone was her Queenly facade, replaced by the vulnerable yet strong young woman who had stolen his battered heart. “You thought you were doing the right thing… Queens do not belong to themselves.” Her head was on the same pillow as his, letting him bend his head to press his forehead against hers, their noses brushing briefly. “What about your betrothal proposals?” he whispered, feeling his body begin to tug him back towards sleep.

“There is only one man I want as my King and to rule beside me,” she answered, smiling lightly as he nuzzled his cheek into her palm sleepily. It reminded her of Ghost when the direwolf wanted her to run her hands through his fur. “And that is you, Jon Snow. If you’ll have me.” ‘If you’ll forgive me,’ went unsaid.

“King Consort to the greatest Queen this country has ever seen? You honour me,” he whispered, returning her small smile. “I will have you, my Queen. For however long you’ll have me.” His good arm hooked around her shoulders, fingers weakly playing with her moon-kissed braids. “I’d rather have the title as King of your heart though. For as long as you love me.” His eyes slid closed, his breathing easy in a peaceful manner he hadn’t felt in weeks. Home. Being in her arms, having her in his… This was his home.

Daenerys hummed, her other hand coming up to cup his other cheek. “As long as you’re willing to share that title in a few moons time, my Love,” she whispered, biting her lip as his eyes shot open, his question clear on his face. “You’re going to be a father, Jon.” Hope, fear, elation all crossed his face in rapid succession before he closed the distance between their lips, kissing her as fiercely as he could in the circumstances. She gave as good as she got, the two of them laughing into each other’s mouths. She had him back. And together, there would be no challenge they could not conquer.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Almost a week later, they were back on Dragonstone. Jon was still physically exhausted from his injuries but there was a true joy in his steps and actions. One that Arya noticed immediately when she and Gendry arrived to help in the preparations for the wedding. Jon had grumbled a bit when he realised just how close his sister and the blacksmith were but Daenerys managed to distract him; and ensured the younger couple’s chambers were on the other side of the royal living quarters. As much as she loved her future good-sister, the Dragon Queen had to draw the line in regards to hearing what the Bull and She-Wolf got up to in their own chambers.

For now, though, Daenerys found herself in the heated baths in the caves beneath the Keep. Her braids undone, she let herself float around the pool-like bath. The water was soothing for her breasts and hips, the pressures of pregnancy slowly starting to affect her body in unpleasant ways. Although she had been grateful to escape the all-day vomiting that seemed to plague other mothers. Sighing, she stretched and groaned as several bones let out a relieving crack as they moved back into place.

A soft yet harsh curse startled her momentarily before her brain recognised the voice of her lover and betrothed. Lifting her head, she bit back a giggle as Jon unsteadily made his way over to the bath. He was still recovering, relying on a walking stick to keep his balance until he was fully healed - it would be impolite to laugh at his misfortune. She did grin when he came to a stop, his grey eyes trailing over her naked body before she moved to swim over to him, the light from the brasiers not enough to hide the admiration and desire from his eyes. “You should be resting, my love,” she chided gently, coming to a stop right in front of him as he sat down ungracefully on the obsidian ground. “I don’t want you hurting yourself trying to move around unnecessarily.” She would hate herself if he injured himself going about the castle without someone to help him.

Jon grumbled, waving off her concerns as she rested her head on her folded arms. “Missandei may have let it slip that you were down here,” he replied, head tilting slightly as she raised an eyebrow at him. “So how could I possibly let go of the opportunity to see my Queen wet and naked in the safety of our own home?”

She snorted at his teasing, shaking her head even as she felt herself flush at his complement. For such a quiet and sullen man, he truly was full of wit alone with her. “You’ve seen me naked many times before, Jon Snow. You don’t need to charm me again,” she commented before she carefully lifted herself out of the pool. Jon’s eyes were hungry as he watched the water sluice down her body, seemingly unable to find one spot to focus his attention on. Grinning, she strutted - waddled - her way over to him, taking her time to swing her leg over his lap before settling her arse on his lap while he struggled to keep his hands to himself. She ran her hands the length of his torso, admiring the way his body looked under the red silk tunic she had convinced him to wear that morning. “You look good in our family colour,” she purred, bending her head to tease her lips over his.

Jon finally gave into his desire, hand rubbing over her bump before he moved his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him. “Glad you approve, My Queen,” he murmured before closing the distance between their lips. Her lips parted in a moan, giving him the chance to slip his tongue into her mouth to dance with her own. The couple lost themselves in the kiss before his lips to carefully pull it over his head without jarring his broken arm. One hand tugged at his hair, tilting his head back so she could kiss him one more. A soft grunt escaped him, groaning into her mouth while she was guiding him down to lay on his back. And then he was grumbling as she pulled back, shuffling down to undo the ties of his trousers; not for the first time since he shuffled down the private stairs to their sealed bath chambers that he was glad he'd chosen to go without his boots. It made everything easier for them both.

Daenerys tapped his hip, grinning up at him as she ordered him to lift his hips. He did as he was told, using his one good hand to help her push the offending material over his hips and down his legs before she wrapped her small, slim hand around his hardening thick cock. "I have missed this too," she whispered, bending her head to tease her tongue along the head of him to gather up the clear bead that had escaped him. Her eyes never left his, slowly wrapping her lips around the fat head of his cock while stroking him slowly. Chuckling at the string of curses that escaped him, she used one hand to hold him by the base while the other hand and her mouth worked together to wreck him. Pulling her mouth off his cock, she stroked her salvia down the thick length as she focused her attention in his face; his skin was flushed a bright red while his neck strained as he managed to lean up on his elbow to watch her. "I've been thinking of choking on your cock all day." Before he could manage a response, she ducked back down and ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, dragging her tongue along the vein and frenulum. Teasing his glans while her hand continued to stroke what she couldn’t fit in her mouth, fingers never touching while light choking sounds echoed around the stone room as she took what she could into her mouth. Repeating her actions over and over until she could feel him strain between release and restraint.

"Dany. Fuck," he gasped, head falling back as she bobbed her head, cheeks hollowing with each movement upwards. She was as wicked with her mouth like this as she was when she was whispering her naughty ideas in his ear. "Dany. Too much," he grunted, falling down on his back as he reached for her hair, debating the idea to pull his other arm from his sling but he knew she'd surely stop if he did. "I'm not gonna last…" He trailed off, head banging off the obsidian while his toes curled; Daenerys didn’t slow down her ministrations. His stomach clenched and his eyes rolled back into his head as he started to spill his seed into her hot, wet dangerous mouth. His fingers mindlessly clenched in her hair and his sling while she worked her mouth and tongue to swallow down all of his release, not leaving a single drop behind. His thighs quaked, his chest heaved and his mouth parted in a desperate pant; she'd reduced him to a mindless, boneless heap even as she continued to stroke his semi-hard cock until he tugged in her hair. He was far too sensitive to continue to let her touch him like that.

She chuckled down a laugh, lifting herself from between his shaking legs and sensitive cock to crawl up his side until she settled against his side, thigh thrown over his hips as she pressed a soft kiss to his jaw and stroked one hand through his thick beard. Jon made a grumbling noise before twisting his head to capture her lips in a slow kiss. A smile spread across her lips as his arm wrapped around her shoulder so he could pull her flush against him, their lips lazingily drinking from their other. This. This was what she had missed; the feeling of home she had only ever felt in his arms.

"I came down here to bathe with you," he mumbled, breaking the kiss to rub his nose along hers. He grinned as a pleased giggle escaped her lips, his hand moving beneath her hair to cup the base of her skull. "You never fail to catch me off guard." Pressing a soft kiss to her lips, he let her guide them up until he was sitting with her in his lap once more. "So what now, my Queen?" Noses brushing, he didn't think he ever wanted to move again.

"We're going to have that bath together and then we're going to go to bed and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist." Her lips were gentle as she pulled back and helped him stand, his body still unsteady from her ministrations and his injuries telling him not to push too hard yet. "But if you hurt yourself, I will have your arse. Understood?"

"As you wish," he breathed, dropping his head to kiss her once more; unable to do without touching her for too long since he'd awoken to her by his side. There were no wars for them to fight, no Lords or Ladies coming to demand their attentions, no demons to haunt them. So he would take his time to lose himself in her taste and touch. For as long as she would allow.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

They had flown out to a nearby cave that Jon had used to hunt near when he and Robb were children. The waterfall continued to pour down into the pool below, the hot springs below allowing the water to stay unfrozen. The dragons roared as they curled around each other close to the edge of the water while Daenerys took her time taking in the landscape. Her eyes were lit up as she took in the snow and waterfall, her gloved hand slipping into his. He smiled at her, pulling her closer by the cloak she wore; one of his own that Missandei had taken up as they travelled from White Harbour to Winterfell. Tilting her head up to his with a finger under her chin, he ducked down to press his mouth against hers, tongues and lips brushing and tasting each other.

A rumbling noise from the dragons had the couple pulling away, Jon glaring at his Queen’s children. One of whom looked far too smug as they watched their mother hide her laughter against Jon's chest. "Come on," he grumbled, taking her hand in his once more and leading her around the edge of the pool to a stone path that led beneath the waterfall. Daenerys' hand tightened in his, her small body tucking against his as he brought her into the cave hidden from the view of any bypasser and, more importantly, her children.

"Wait… Is this… Is this where you kill me?" she teased, grinning mischievously as Jon's head whipped around to look at her with a confused frown until he caught sight of her grin. "At least no one would find my body here," she continued, shoulders shaking as she tried to fight back a laugh at the shock on her lover's face.

"Funny," he grumbled, leading her further inside until they reached the hot springs Jon had mentioned before they flew here. "This is it," he stated, coming to a stop as Daenerys let go of his hand to pull off a glove to test the water herself. "I know you don't particularly like the cold up here but this was the best place I could think of that would give us some privacy that Winterfell or the Dothraki camp doesn't."

Daenerys smiled, turning to her lover whose face had become flushed; be it from the heat or sheepishness, she wasn't sure. But it didn’t matter; this man respected and cared for her in ways she didn’t know before him. And she knew what she felt for him was more than care and respect but rather love and trust. Stepping closer to him, she dropped both of her gloves to a rock not covered in wet moss before she took Jon's face between her hands. "Thank you," she breathed before standing on her toes to close the distance as she kissed him slowly. His arms came to wrap around her waist, pulling her flush until he was lifting her off her feet as their mouths clashed for dominance; hungry, biting and sucking at each other’s lips.

And then Daenerys was pulling back and leading him towards the edge of the pool. He followed, shamelessly watching her as she began to strip out of her layers of furs and leathers, turning to face him as she bit her kiss-swollen bottom lip. Before he could ask her what she was thinking, Daenerys was slowly approaching him, her hands coming to rest on his chest before she was undoing the clasps of his cloak. He swallowed a groan; she knew exactly what he thought about her biting her own lip like that. She looked up at him from under hooded eyelids and he knew, there and then, that he was hooked under her command. Anything she could ask of him, he would do for her. Ten times over if it made her happy.

“All I’ve been thinking of since you stood before the Lords and declared your loyalty to me was getting you alone and showing you what words cannot say.” She leaned up, brushing her lips slowly over his even as she deftly undid the clasps that held his gorget in place, mouth teasing his before she was pulling away once more. “I want you buried inside me, Jon Snow.” And then she was moving out of his arms, hips swaying slowly as she pulled her slip over her head and made her way over to the steady stream of water at the edge of the hot spring, naked as the day she was born. “You can watch, Jon Snow. But you need to catch up if you wanna touch.”

Her husky words drove him crazy before he snapped. Jon growled, shucking the remaining parts of his clothing as he followed her, leaving a trail of clothes as he moved to join her. She had bent over, testing how much room they had beneath the stream. He growled at the sight, grey eyes flickering over her body. She obviously heard him, flicking her hair over her shoulder while she looked back at him with a seductive smirk proud on her face. “Like what you see, Lord Snow?” She spread her legs a little more, giving him a fuller view of her cunt and arse. Teasing him some more.

His Queen would be the death of him. Truly and surely, she would be the death of him. Her body. Her words. Her heart. He could feel what was left of his blood heading straight to his cock as he took in the sight of her cunt and ass as she bent over in front of him. And before he knew it, he was closing the distance between them, his knees finding the stone ground as he took her arse in his hands and spread her cheeks. He gave her little time to respond as he immediately dived in to trace the seam of her cunt with his tongue, growling hungrily against her as his active senses were smothered by the smell and taste of her arousal. Her hands caught onto the available supports on the wall at the sudden assault on her sex. His tongue speared past her lips and slid over her clit to gather up some of her arousal. And then he was on his feet once more, stepping into the spring before pulling her in with him. Only to press her up against the wall despite the hiss that passed his lips at the heat of the hot water. She was willing to let him manhandle her, twisting her around in his arms so that he could claim her lips once more. Battle for control, dominance, so that they could please each other in every way they knew how. To learn every way they could please their love.

Daenerys moaned as Jon pressed her up against the side of the spring; it was deep enough that the water reached her breasts while she was standing without her boots for extra height. And then her White Wolf was dragging his mouth along her neck, lips and teeth combining to suck and bite on the pale flesh while one hand found the curve of her round arse, palming the bouncy cheeks firmly. His other hand pinned her own to the wall above her head, giving him all the access he needed to mark the skin of her neck. Arching into him, his hand moved from her arse to wrap around her thighs and lifted her until she could wrap her legs around his hips. The hot water from the stream pouted down over them as Jon lifted his head to kiss her hard, tongue tracing over her lips until her mouth parted beneath his. She submitted control, for now, letting him hold her up and guide their movements.

Jon pushed his hips against hers, grinning as he brought both hands to trail down her body, scarred fingers tracing over the soft curves of her body, wondering what he had done to be brought back from the dead and to have the chance to love this woman. This Queen. His Dany. “I missed this,” he whispered against her lips as his hands came to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. “I don’t like being forced to stay away from you at the Keep. Miss having you in my arms when we go to sleep.”

Daenerys whimpered before grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him down to her lips, kissing him hard when his lips found hers. She wanted him inside her. Now. Before she could get what she wanted, Jon set her down on the edge of the pool as he leaned against it, his knees finding hold in a ledge beneath the water. Looking up at her, he watched her heaving breasts before she bent her head enough so that their eyes caught. He smirked before lowering his head to press kisses along her lower stomach, slowly making his way down to press his lips against her slit once more. She gasped loudly, arching even as her hands found their way to Jon’s wet curls, his name falling from her lips loud enough it echoed throughout the cave. She tried to brace herself for the onslaught he was about to unleash on her but it was an useless endeavor; nothing could prepare her for Jon parting her nether lips and dragging his tongue along the length of her cunt.

Jon groaned and chuckled against her cunt, one hand keeping her cunt spread for him as he traced her sex with his tongue and mouth. He ghosted over her clit, his tongue teasing against her entrance just to tease along her lips once more. A whine escaped her lips, making him - finally - move his lips to her clit, starting with soft strokes of his tongue until he began to suck on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Two fingers pushed inside her cunt, curling against that spot that drove her mad. And then she was quickly clenching around his fingers, her moans and gasps providing a musical soundtrack that was almost drowned out by the stream hitting the pool. He growled possessively as her hands tightened in his hair, pulling his mouth closer to her cunt. He would make her cum like this and then he’d lay her out on the stone floor to show her just how much he had missed having her in his arms, spending time with her and pleasing her. Words had never been his strong suit. But this? This he could do. This was something he was good at and something they both seemed to enjoy doing together.

She was clenching around his fingers, gasping as she reached her climax, her own fingers tugging on his hair hard while he continued to lap her release, grinning proudly against her as she struggled to remain still. He sucked one more time on her clit before he was lifting himself out of the pool to lay beside her. Kissing his way up her body, he let her legs finally fall closed. He teased her breasts, knowing just how sensitive she was there. Her reaction didn’t disappoint; she arched up into his mouth, hands blindly clenching at his biceps and chest as he teased his tongue over her areolas. “Jon,” she whined, bringing one hand to tug at his hair and drag his mouth up to her lips. She moaned into his mouth at the taste of her cunt in his mouth but didn’t let him pull back, instead losing herself in the taste of herself on his lips. .

Jon finally broke the kiss, nose brushing against hers as he rested his forehead against hers. “Want to soak some more?” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against hers; the simple task of holding her in his arms should let him calm down enough to stop him from cumming too quickly.

Daenerys shook her head, reaching down to wrap her small hand around his hard cock, stroking him slowly. He hunched over her, head falling to her shoulder while he breathed deeply through his nose as he fought the urge to spill in her hand and make a fool of himself. “Are you sure?” she whispered huskily in his ear, tongue teasing the edge. Gods, she was trying to kill him. He knew it. “Surely that’s such a hard situation to deal with, Lord Snow. I could make you feel so much better.”

He growled, lifting his head to kiss her hard, one of his hands stilling her movements, much to her disappointment. “Behave, Your Grace,” he got out, pulling back to look at her, his grey eyes turned black from desire. “You keep that up, and you’ll make me waste before I’m ready to have you.” Her breathing hitched, legs curling up his calves and thighs. “I’m going to work you up for it. Make you beg me to fuck you.” She whimpered then, heels digging into the flesh of his thighs as she tried to maneuver herself into a more comfortable position. “Oh you like that, don’t you?”

“Jon,” she whined, tugging him closer. For a man who had so much self-doubt and self-loathing, he certainly knew exactly how to play her body until it sang for him. “You are the greatest tease I have ever met.” She finally managed to wrap her legs around his waist, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and neck as he moved his weight to his elbows and gave into his demands.

He kissed her hard, hands tracing her breasts and stomach until she was pulling away, purple eyes dark with pleasure and desire focused on his grey ones. “Take me,” she whispered, voice low and husky as she gazed up at him in the low light of the cave. His hand came to cup her face, thumb tracing the apple of cheek; she was tempted to twist her head and suck his thumb into her mouth but the look of love and devotion in his eyes made her simply wait for his next action. She could only hope he could see the same, spreading her legs a little so he could slip inside and give her what they were both waiting for.

Reaching between them, he took his cock in his hand and slid the weeping head between her folds, coating himself in her release. Her breath hitching and a gasp escaping her lips, he took the moment to push deep inside her, neither of them able to wait any longer. Her answering moan and nails digging into his flesh made him pause, giving her time to accommodate his length inside her once more. Lowering his head, he kissed her again, easing his cock the rest of the way inside her.

Her hands moved from his arse and forearm, instead gripping at his shoulder blade while the other came to grasp at the back of his neck. Their kiss turned to biting kisses, her legs tightening around him while he spread his own knees for better purchase to begin a steady rhythm. Their hips moved in a steady dance, his lips barely leaving hers as they gasped, moaned and groaned against the other. Moving her hand from his neck, she cupped his bearded jaw, fingers getting lost in the fine, prickly hairs as his thrusts made her arch into his body, her walls tightening around his cock. She was going to cum again and soon.

“Dany,” he gasped against her lips, biting on her bottom lip as he felt himself get closer and closer to the edge. He was going to spill his seed but before he could ask her whether she wanted him to pull out, her legs tightened around his waist and thighs. “Dany… G-gonna cum,” he warned, breaking away from her mouth to press his forehead against hers.

“Inside me. Fill me up, Jon,” she whimpered, arching off the stone to capture his mouth once more. Sucking his tongue into her mouth like she was sucking on his cock. The sudden image didn’t help as her cunt clenched hard around him, his seed spilling from his cock in spurts, hips stuttering and rolling into her warm cunt. Pushing a hand between them, he rubbed and pinched her clit in the way she liked until she was cumming around him, limps and cunt pulling him as close and deep as he could go.

She wasn’t sure whether she passed out for a little while because the next thing she knew, she was laying on her side with Jon’s cloak thrown over them both. One of his hands was stroking her sweaty hair from her face, a soft smile on his face. “Hello,” he whispered, bending his head to press his lips against hers softly; it was then she noticed that his smile had a sheepishly proud look to it. But she didn’t want to break the moment, instead smiling back at him before he laid his head over her heart, her hands coming up so her fingers could play with his raven curls. She didn’t know how long they laid there, simply basking in the feeling of being in each other’s arms. This was home. This was what she had been searching for for all those years. And she never wanted to be anywhere else but in his arms.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

He was the luckiest bastard to ever live. That was all that ran through his head as he gently trailed a finger down the length of her arm, starting at her shoulder and making his way down to her wrist. Back up and down the curve of her side, fingertips ghosting over the swell of her breast and baby bump. She chose him. She had married him. Beneath the weirwood at Winterfell, she had taken him as her husband, as her Consort. And he had to be the luckiest bastard to ever live. That moment when he had turned to find Missandei leading Daenerys down the path to join him beneath the weirwood had stolen his breath just as much as the first time he had seen her in the throne room on Dragonstone. The decision to marry in front of the very tree where she had reminded him of who he was, that he didn’t need to choose a side. That what made him Jon Snow was both sides; Targaryen and Stark. It had seemed only fitting that they would marry before the Weirwood.

The moons since she and Arya had found him Beyond The Wall had had their problems. With their tears, their fights, their arguments. Their love-making, their tender touches, their love. They spoke and cried and laughed. No more secrets, no more bottling up feelings, no more hidden plans. Varys had been the only one displeased when Daenerys had returned with Jon’s injured form behind her on Drogon's back. But Daenerys would hear none of the Spider’s protests, turning instead to Missandei and Willas Tyrell to organise the wedding with correspondence with Sansa. It was in those few months that he realised that sometimes, two people had to fall apart to realise how much they needed to fall back together again.

And that had been how they found themselves in the Lord’s chambers at Winterfell, naked but covered by furs to ward off the cold of the night. His wife had tortured him throughout the ceremony and feast, with her words and careful touches. He had been tempted to just leave, stealing her away to feast on her in ways that he would never allow another to see them. But she had insisted on staying for an hour or two; they were Queen and King Consort, they had a reputation to uphold. The moment he had gotten her alone more than made up for her teasing torture.

He was torn from his thoughts as her nose scrunched momentarily before she was shuffling backwards into the heat of his body, her arse fitting against his groin as he dropped his arm under her own, his palm sliding over the round curve of her bump. Their child kicked at his hand while Daenerys grumbled sleepily. And then her head was twisting as her eyes fluttered open to look at him.

"Hi," she breathed, smiling softly at him. One of her hands came to rest over his, fingers wrapping around his own in a comforting squeeze. Leaning over her, he pressed his mouth to her own, lips teasing each other before he pulled back and rested his jaw against the soft skin of her neck. "I thought you'd be sleeping," she murmured, sighing in content as his lips brushed a soft kiss against her pulse. "What's on your mind, my Love?"

His eyes slid closed as she brought her hand up to cup his face over her shoulder, her fingers gently scratching through his beard. “Us,” he whispered, eyes opening when he felt her head twist once more to look at him. His grey eyes found hers, a soft smile on his lips at the furrow in her brow. Lifting himself onto his elbow, he lifted his hand to trail a finger along the creases. “How I’m the luckiest bastard in the world to be loved by a woman like you.”

A strained whimper escaped her lips before she was pulling him down and claiming his mouth with hers. He groaned against her, her body twisting beneath him so that he hovered over her, mouths battling for dominance as her hands made a mess of his knotted hair once more. “You are mine, Jon Snow,” she breathed, breaking the kiss to rub her nose along his, their lips brushing fleetingly. “And I shall kill anyone that tries to take you from me again.”

“I’d like to see them try,” he whispered, ducking his head down once more to claim her mouth once more. Thousands of people lived in the world, yet he only felt warmth in her arms. Love. Home. His family.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

He was certain there was no better feeling than holding his children in his arms for the first time. Missandei and the midwives were helping his wife clean up as he held their twins, both of them now sleeping peacefully despite their eventful arrival to the world. "They're perfect, Dany," he breathed, staring down at their children in awe. "Thank you." They had made these two beautiful, perfect creatures. Once upon a time, he'd hardly believed he'd have even the chance to have children of his own. Let alone a wife who loved him as Daenerys did. Cared for and trusted him the way she did. And yet here he was, holding their two heirs as she was stripped out of her bloody bed clothes and into fresh linens.

Daenerys groaned as she settled back onto the bed, her back and neck resting against the numerous pillows as Missandei herded the other women out of the royal chambers. But the residual pain was worth it to see her husband hold their children to his bare chest from where he sat with their newborns on the chair beside the bed. The fire had died down in their chambers; throughout her labour, she had demanded the heat of the fire to be stoked and stoked to the point her husband had to strip down to his pants to withstand the heat. She smiled softly as he finally looked up at her, a happy and proud smile on his face before he carefully stood and moved to join her. Shuffling over, she left him room to sit down beside her. Their daughter nuzzled against her father’s chest before settling once more while their son began to squirm.

With a soft chuckle, Daenerys took the boy in her own arms with a few moments of shuffling around for the four of them to get comfortable once more. He quietened quickly after that, head laying on her breast like his father had done so many times before; the sight made the new parents chuckle as their dark-haired prince snoozed peacefully against the sound thump of Daenerys’ beating heart. “Like father, like son,” she whispered, running a gentle hand over the soft, downy hair on the top of her baby boy’s head.

Jon snorted, pressing a kiss to their daughter’s head while sliding an arm behind Daenerys’ back to pull her close to him, her head settling on his shoulder. “I pity you. Having two of us constantly brooding and frowning? Whatever will you do?” he teased, smirking when she poked his thigh sleepily. He shifted his head, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “Have you decided which of the names you wanted to give them, love?” Their children were the images of them, their daughter with Daenerys’ moon-kissed silver hair and their son with Jon’s raven-black. It would be too soon to figure out what colour their eyes were but Jon was praying that they would take after their mother in that regard.

Daenerys hummed sleepily, eyes fluttering open to look down at their sleeping children. Once upon a time, she had been convinced that she would never have this moment in her waking moments. And then she met Jon Snow, the man who challenged everything she had thought to be true. And the proof of that challenge laying peacefully in their arms after their loud, dramatic entry to the world. “Naerys and Aemon,” she whispered, smiling when Jon hummed his agreement. They had debated names for weeks upon end but in that moment, she knew which names to choose. Their precious little dragon wolves, their Prince and Princess of Dragonstone. Their precious babies.

“Naerys and Aemon Targaryen,” Jon repeated, smiling when a stray hand came up from the bundle Naerys had been wrapped in. He caught her tiny fist gently, pressing a soft kiss to the tiny pink fingers. The day had bleeded into nightfall as Dany brought their children into the world. But unlike his isolated time Beyond The Wall, she was there right with him as the rug was pulled from beneath him. “I guess I should get used to not being the only one you love," he commented, smiling when she let out a breathless laugh. This was worth the pain and losses they had suffered. The heartbreak and scars. To have these two precious babes in their arms, to have Daenerys’ love and heart. “Thank you, Dany.”

Lifting her head, she caught his mouth in a slow kiss, tongue and lips sliding against each other lazily. No other words were needed, one of her hands coming to his face and trailing through his beard. They had found their way back to each other, back to their homes in each other’s arms.

[daenerysource]

@emilia_clarke: MOST EXCITING NEWS EVER!!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

[magalidragon]

heat wave | a Jonerys smut fic | Chapter 1: cold snap

So I got to 13,100 words and had to put a pause because we weren’t even at smut yet and I worried it would be about 25k before I finished, ha.  This is for my bb @nlights37​, she’s been so busy of late, I hope you enjoy a break when you can!  Anyways, enjoy the inspired-by-recent-weather-events one shot PWP that became a two-shot Porn With Feelings fic, ha.

She gazed out the window again, exhaling, relieved at the movement near the house edge. “He’s alive, thank gods!” She pulled the door open, hurrying him in, shouting at him. “You’re note even wearing a coat! What is wrong with you? It’s sub-zero out there!” She squealed, his pants and shirt dark with water. “And you’re going to freeze!”

He waved his hand, dismissing her concerns. “I’m from the North, this is nothing, but you…” He whistled low under his breath, glancing around the messy kitchen, the buckets of water in the sink and her current shivering state. He glanced next at the dog, who sat down next to her and began to rub his head along her thigh, eyes shutting to red slits. The man Jon sighed, nodding, making up his mind about something. “Well that settles it. You can’t stay here.”

She scoffed. “No shit, where am I supposed to go?”

“You’re coming to my place, like I said, it’s got a generator so there’s power, a fireplace for heat even if the power goes out it’s wood burning, and I stocked up the other day.” He turned around, waving his hand again. “I’m not going to hear it; you can be here without anything and I had to shut down your water so that leak doesn’t get worse.”

Fuck. There was no other option. She couldn’t even think of driving anywhere. The rental was in the Red Mountains, the appeal of it being that she was far from society and the big resorts where the tourists camped. The only neighbor she even had was, well, this guy and even then, he was down the hill a little. She wrestled internally, but there was no real fight.

“Fine,” she called. She pointed to the cats, their faces peeking under a blanket. “But I bring them.”

Jon appeared stunned she would have thought he meant for her to leave them. “Of course, I’m not a monster.”

“If you were a monster, you’d say you weren’t a monster.”

“That’s not true.” He flashed a quick grin. Something flickered in her belly…or maybe lower, but she pushed that aside. Now was not the time. His Northern burr rumbled, teasing. “Only murderers say that.”

She rolled her eyes. Licking her lips, she sighed and crossed her arms tight over her chest. “Well fine, I have no real choice, I’ll either freeze to death here or be murdered by you, but at least I will have a bit of a chance of fighting back if I have the use of my limbs.” She pointed to him. “Stay there. I’m getting their carrier and a bag.”

“Please change your socks too, you’re going to get sick!”

[youwerenevermine]

Emilia Clarke for Clinique (January 2021)

[source: Clinique]

[sheikah]

[artlanto]

A sketch of Daenerys Targaryen from game of thrones

Took me around 4-5 hours, overall was a difficult sketch but fun.

Pencils 4H to 11B

How do you think it turned out?

[anyataylorjoy]

LAST CHRISTMAS 2019, dir. Paul Feig

[lucyllawless]

FAVORITE HOLIDAY FILMS | Last Christmas dir. Paul Feig (2019)

[lady-kathani]

“Princess,” he said, “you have a gentle heart, but you do not understand. This is how it has always been.”

[youwerenevermine]

Emilia Clarke for British Vogue. (December 2020 issue)

“In a timely reminder that we not only need to celebrate this country’s unique theatre landscape, but to protect it, British Vogue gathered 10 of the London stage’s finest performers to find out what they love most about going to the theatre. From Jude Law to Emilia Clarke, Paapa Essiedu to Lily James, Sophie Okonedo to Andrew Scott, as well as Arinze Kene, Rosalie Craig, Sheila Atim and Indira Varma, find out how Britain’s starriest thespians learn their lines and the productions they regret missing out on.”

Find the video of Emilia’s interview here.

[source: Vogue.co.uk]

[youwerenevermine]

Emilia Clarke for British Vogue (December 2020 issue)

[funsizeclarke]

Emilia Clarke and Mother Jenny Clarke recalls the moment she was inspired to start her charity

[youwerenevermine]

Emilia Clarke with her mom and brother, skydiving for her birthday at the Hinton Skydiving Centre.

This smol bean is really fearless! I LOVE HER!

And yes mama Jenny jumped too!❤️

[youwerenevermine]

This smol bean went sky diving for her birthday! #FearlessQueen

[source: Emilia’s instagram]

[youwerenevermine]

Jonerys | “Autumn” Aesthetic

[lovelyandlethal-deactivated2021]

baby girl is DOING THE DAMN THING  🔥 🔥 🔥

[uwukirin-deactivated20220123]

Kit and Emilia on Jon and Dany’s endings (from Fire Cannot Kill A Dragon)

Kit being emotional for Dany. Emilia being emotional for Jon. The way they care about each other’s characters. I’ve never once believed all the shit Kit has said after the finale because I mean we all saw his reaction at the table read. And finally, he’s saying how much Jon’s ending hurt him.

It will never not make me cry just how much these two get each other and are there for each other, especially throughout that bullshit of finale season. It’s like what Emilia once said, they they’re always in-sync and Kit saying no one else aside from him and Emilia will know what being on Thrones is really like.