Jon and Dany Imagined Scenes

A Raven from Winterfell

Jon stood over the heavy stone desk in his room at Dragonstone, staring stunned at the newly arrived scroll from Winterfell. Having read it three times, he could still scarcely believe it, but a fourth reading through blurred vision seemed to confirm Sansa's news. Jon thought wryly that he may as well have had the whole decanter of ruby wine set out before him, for all that the words seemed to swim on the page.

It was at this moment that Daenerys swept into Jon's doorway, and the sight of tears in the eyes of the gruff Northerner drew her to a stop. She had sought him out at once when she was informed that a raven had arrived from Winterfell, hoping to catch him off guard. She was therefore not a little surprised at her own halting reaction to the unguarded emotion painted on Jon's face.

If she had hoped to take advantage of whatever news had arrived, she would have no better opportunity, but her concern was real when she interrupted his thoughts.

"I trust all is well at Winterfell, my lord?"

Jon turned fully to face her, not attempting to mask the overwhelming joy pouring from him. "My sister is alive," he said simply, and causing Daenerys' brow to furrow ever so slightly in confusion.

"Sansa, is it not? Was she in some danger?"

"My youngest sister, Arya," Jon clarified. Arya was alive and well.  The thought produced a rare smile on Jon's face. "My brother Bran has reached Winterfell, as well."

That Bran was also recently arrived at Winterfell was no less welcome news, though not nearly as much of a surprise. Jon had continued to pray that Bran would make his way back home from his journeying beyond the Wall ever since he learned of Sam's encounter with Bran. Arya, on the other hand, had not been seen in years, and Jon had long ago accepted that his favorite sibling was dead.

Now he imagined Arya as Sansa described her - full grown, and still rebellious as ever against her status as a lady, training daily with the sword he had gifted to her so long ago. Never more since he had arrived at Dragonstone did Jon long for home.

Dany purposefully mistook Jon's meaning, and cast him a searching look. "Will you give up your crown now that your brother has returned? He is the legitimate heir to Winterfell, is he not?," she asked, challenging.

His eyes flashed and she could not mistake his sincerity when he replied, "I would give him Winterfell, the North, my life if I had to. He is my brother. My blood."

He softened following this impassioned declaration, knowing it was a question many would ask in the coming months. "Sansa says he will not allow anyone to call him the Lord of Winterfell. He suffered a fall when he was a child, and I am told he has not been the same since," he said, evading. More pointedly, "The Stark banner men still call me King of the North, as do my brother and sisters." Jon's heart swelled as his thoughts turned to them again, of his Stark siblings rallying together in their childhood home at last, and him meeting them there on equal footing, no longer an outsider.

"I wish you could meet Arya," Jon said suddenly. "She would like you, I think. She is a fighter, like you." 

He met her eyes then, embarrassed, hoping that he had not offended her. In truth, he admired the young queen. He had not known many women like her, as willing as his daring sister was to jump into the fray.

"I hope someday I can," she said, acknowledging the intended compliment, and putting his concern to rest. She considered Jon's affected reaction to the news of his unearthed siblings, not sure what to make of it. Her relationship with her own brother had been close, but Daenerys could not imagine him with the look of genuine affection and love Jon now presented before her. She wondered what it would feel like to be the cause of it.

"You must wish to go home," Daenerys said sympathetically, all the while knowing that it was she who stood in his way. Jon's refusal to acknowledge her claim to rule over all the seven kingdoms weighed heavily between them. They both knew she would be a fool to let him go, a King and a challenger to her authority, who was now in all practicality her hostage.

"I need to go home, to be with my family. They need me to help them prepare our people for what is coming."

She had heard this from him before, but this time Jon went on, leaning back resignedly against the stone table, and speaking frankly but gently.

"I never asked to be a King, but I cannot betray the trust my people put in me and bend the knee to you. You are a stranger to them. But if you let me go now, I will speak honestly to them of your support, your generosity, your bravery. You will have many opportunities to prove yourself to them in the great war to come.

If you are the great leader they say you are, if you rally the people to your side, Daenerys Stormborm, I swear I'll not stand in your way." As he said this last, he reached out impulsively to take her hands in his.

She glanced down at their clasped hands, and in that instant his heart leapt into his throat. The letter from his sister had made him emotional, or he never would have dared to be so forward. However fond of the queen he was becoming, it was dangerous to treat her with the casual closeness he would Sansa or Arya. He respected her, and did not think her cruel, but he had seen himself how she could turn imperious in an instant.

When she squeezed his hands in return, he let out his breath. "I will summon your ship, Jon Snow, and as many others as you need to take the dragon glass weapons I have given you to the North, to protect Westeros against these monsters you have seen."

Having received as much as promise from Jon that he would not openly rebel against her, Daenerys was willing to let this sincere and serious man from the North return to Winterfell. But the strong-willed queen would remind him of her earlier promise before she let him go. Daenaerys released Jon's hands, and walked to the table to pour them each a goblet of wine from the decanter.

"Thank you, your grace." Jon's eyes burned into hers as he accepted a glass from her, almost unbelieving, and knowing then that she would have the last word.

"When I have defeated Cersei and won the Iron Throne, I promise you I will turn northward and we will meet again. And then you will decide whether I will fight with the North, or against it."

And with that, Daenerys raised her glass to Jon's in toast to their tentative detente.