Khaleesi and the King (of the North)!

1- Bereaved

(Daenerys' p.o.v)
I awoke in my chambers, feeling better then how I had when I'd fallen asleep. The grief that had surrounded me and consumed me since... Viserion... it had become better. Still there, but a bearable ache in my stomach. Like the beginnings of a headache that, with effort, you can push to the back of your mind.
A week had passed since my dragon's death, and while it pained me to think of him, I no longer cried. Openly.
I was the breaker of chains.
The unburnt.
I should not be controlled by my pain, or display it in front of my people.
Through the clear glass doors separating my room from the outside, I could see the brightening sky. The sight calmed me and helped move me away from any sadder thoughts.
I walked over to the doors , went through and down the dozen steps leading to the balcony. I stepped slowly to the wall at the balcony's edge, which I leaned against. The thoughts in my head did not stop me from enjoying the view. The sea rolled in slowly, the waves blue with flecks of white, and where the the clouds parted and sunlight shone down, golden.
"May I join you, your grace?"
I turned around to see a man with long-ish black hair, pulled back behind his head, emphasising his sculpted jawline and the hard lines of his face. Despite this, there was an air of softness, almost vulnerability about him. Jon Snow's chestnut eyes burned into mine, and I realised I had been staring, while he waited for a reply.
"Of course."
I turned back to the waves, forcing myself to concentrate on looking at the dancing waves beneath them.
He spoke again. "Are you feeling better?"
I almost laughed, then bit it back.
"I am, actually. But surely it is I who should be asking you that?"
Jon had endured several serious wounds on his chest and body during the fight with the white walkers. The last time I had seen him, he had been lying in bed, trying to recover what little strength he had left. The sheets did not cover above his waist. Bruised and bleeding, his chest wounds had looked horrendous, I remembered. Oh lords, don't think of his chest now, Daenerys, calm down!
He smiled a little, then looked out to the sea and said quietly, "Of course. I'll be fine. But flesh wounds take little time to heal. Emotional ones, those take longer." He looked back at me. The intensity of his gaze startled and dizzied me a little. "I know what it's like to lose someone you love, your grace."
I was silent for a few seconds. Placing my hands atop the wall, I spoke quickly.
"You probably don't get views like this in the north, do you?"
His gaze shifted towards the rising sun over the sea.
"You're right. There are men in the Night's Watch who have never seen the ocean. Or a sunrise like this."
Again his eyes fixed on mine. My knees felt weak and my breath hitched a little.
What was happening to me?
"I must go, I am not feeling so well. Forgive me, Jon Snow."
"Your grace."
I beat a hasty retreat up the steps to my chambers, feeling his gaze on me all the while. While I tried to figure out what had caused my strange reaction, my thoughts kept turning towards the sound of his voice (deep, a little husky) and the way he had looked at me as he asked if I felt any better. I told myself that whatever I felt, it was only a temporary lapse in focus. That I couldn't possibly feel anything out of the ordinary for this man, who I'd known scarcely a month.
It was unthinkable, impossible.
Deep down, I knew I was lying.