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

Burning up for you, my blood, me to you binding

"I would burn this city down if you asked me
I'd make my bed with you in the flames
I am not afraid of destruction
It's just the thought of losing you that keeps me awake

Burning heart, all that's within me
All I am, burning up for you
My blood, me to you binding
Living to find my way to you
And I found myself in you
Oh, I found myself in you
I found myself in you

I would go to war for you if you asked me
I'd water fields in blood to save your life
No, I am not afraid of destruction
Oh yes, I'd sell my soul to hell to keep you alive

The dark will fall
And I will crawl
But I'm not letting go
Yes, death will call
And I will crawl
But I'm not letting go"

Burning Heart – Victoria Carbol
********

Daenerys 

Daenerys looked down at the bustling camps of the Dothraki, Unsullied, and Westerosi from a high wall that overlooked the grounds of Winterfell. Jon and Arya were on either side of her. His hand was in hers, he seemed determined to show the North she was his, and it kept her warm despite the light snow falling from the silver sky. Moats were being dug by her men and Jon's, three in total, and they'd used the dragons to soften the earth enough so the men could dig without breaking their shovels. Their guards were keeping very close to her now, but she felt it was silly here, given her husband would kill anyone before they could get near her. And Arya would finish off anyone left once he was done. Still, she wouldn't complain, not now.

Her free hand settled over her still flat stomach, a kernel of hope burning bright within her even as her mind screamed at her to deny, deny, deny. Jon had promised to speak with Sam later, and she dreaded it immensely. That morning had been rough, and she'd feared she'd vomit as heat flashed across her skin, her belly flipped, and she felt as if it were boiling. It hadn't helped that her dresses now felt tighter over her chest, causing a slight ache as she shifted on her frozen feet and the thick fabric rubbed her sensitive skin. Missandei had noticed her discomfort and only smiled, a twinkle in her golden eyes that Daenerys had ignored.

Rhaegal and Drogon were in the sky, neither seemed to approve of the cold here, and her Dothraki had informed her they had barely eaten their dinner the night before. Her mind was a snare of worry and tangled thoughts she didn't want to look too closely at. A sweep of dark grey skirts and vivid red hair in her periphery made her turn and offer a small smile to the Lady of Winterfell, who tilted her head in acknowledgment before her sharp eyes surveyed the scene below.