I Am Not a Woman, I'm a God - Jonerys [18+]

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Happy New Year to anyone reading!

Wedding bells and the smut that was promised.

"And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences
Sit with you in the trenches
Give you my wild, give you a child
Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other
Family that I chose
Now that I see your brother as my brother
Is it enough?

But there's robbers to the east
Clowns to the west
I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best
But the rain is always gonna come
If you're standing with me

But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm
When your cascade, ocean wave blues come
All these people think love's for show
But I would die for you in secret
The devil's in the details
But you got a friend in me
Would it be enough If I could never give you peace"

Peace – Taylor Swift
******

Daenerys

Tendrils of steam rose from the water like wild grass shivering in the wind. The surface shimmered, and each breath she took filled her lungs with her spiced oils' comforting, familiar scent. She'd sequestered herself in the private bathing chamber attached to their bedroom moments after Jon had left to spend the night with Ser Davos and Arya. They'd been talked into spending the night apart. Tyrion claimed some traditions be upheld since she'd outright denied most of his suggestions. Jon had vehemently shot down Tyrions tentative mention of the peculiar bedding ceremony. She hadn't known what it was and had glared daggers at Tyrion for suggesting such folly once Jon explained. She'd barely solidified her power here, and the last thing she wanted was eager people scrambling to undress her while making indecent jokes at her expense. The idea of any woman touching her husband was enough for Drogon to land on the tower they were occupying.

Tyrion endeavored to show she could trust him to advise and do his job. She was cautiously hopeful, but his wine consumption hadn't slowed. He was to act as her Hand until after the wedding, and had flung himself into helping Missandei plan their ceremony with a zeal she hadn't ever witnessed from him. She knew he wanted to leave the position on a positive note. It didn't erase his failures, but it cheered her to see him smiling more often. The gossip mill would be spinning and spreading soon, though. She wondered how Missandei would respond to her offer. Her friend would most likely try to refuse, claiming she wasn't worthy. Daenerys knew it was an odd choice, but she planned to do things differently, and Missandei was only a part of that. She and Jon had sent word to Arya, Varys, and Ser Davos, asking them to meet with them the moment they called for them. Missandei had already agreed to attend when she'd come to take down her hair.

After scrubbing the long days of meticulous planning and attempting to set this city to rights off her skin, she took to floating on her back, eyes closed, hair clean and flowing around her head like seaweed. Her mind was alight with all she had yet to do, and face, she couldn't switch it off. Occasionally, she tried to dredge up the fear and dread she'd become accustomed to the night before getting married. She recalled how it crept over her skin, prickling it until her hair stood on end. Despair and helplessness had locked her muscles and stolen her ability to reason, leading her to beg her vile brother to save her. To find another way. She still saw that cruel smirk he'd worn as he'd crushed her soul in his weak fist. Betrayal had been a conscious choice for Viserys, her terror had been met with cold indifference, and as she'd shattered into dust inside, he'd swung sharp words like knives and left her to her fate. She had made the most of it, but the memories remained.