A Dragon is not a Slave

Just sleep with Jon ALREADY (working title)

Daenerys was limp and weary by the time she wandered down from the turrets, Drogons favorite place to land. They'd flown so far this time, she'd not been home for a whole night and day. And all that time she couldn't stop seeing the things she'd done. All those things that had first believed she must do, and all the things she might have stopped herself from doing. Each thing played out in the mind over and over again as they flew over endless rocks and fields. Returning to Dragonstone this time, she felt for the first time like it was home. She was met first by the kindly Ser Davos, who immediately offered his cloak. She accepted gratefully, as her fingers and arms felt numb and stiff. He excused himself quietly and hurried off to let the castle know the dragon queen had returned.

Everyone seemed to be either afraid of her or afraid for her. She answered questions and concerns for her safety as best she could. Trying to maintain a steady, calm demeanor was draining her to nothing, but none would have suspected her weakness, not even her scribe. I had to burn them, she told herself again and again, I gave them a choice. But tears still prickled at the corner of her eyes when she thought of them, the younger especially. They were just the sort of knights she'd dream of as a girl in Braavos, ready to die for the house they swore to. And she was the one who did it. Dragon-blood. Stormborn. Madness. She shook her head to clear the doubt, and knew it was important to cry, should she feel like it, in her bed tonight. Tomorrow she had to go right back to being strong.

On the stairs she was joined by Missandei, ever respectful and two paces behind. In the hall, Ser Jorah bowed silently until she passed and then trailed along behind them. Tyrion hovered always nearby, concern etched on his face, but she could hardly look at him let alone speak. He'd been right all along. She was nearly at her chambers when from out another hall, the king Jon Snow strode briskly and then halted all at once when he saw her. He appeared to bolster courage, before he spoke.

"You might have said where you were going. Before just vanishing."

"Shall I be telling you where I am going now, Jon Snow." she teased, but her weariness was catching up and she felt her knees slightly buckle, and then catch.

"You're unwell." Jon Snow moved to take her arm, but Ser Jorah was there first.

"Khaleesi."

"It's alright Ser Jorah," Dany smiled tenderly, "I'm tired from flying. That is all."

'Please, you must rest." he spoke close to her ear.

She pulled free, and then patted his arm. "I am well enough to speak to an ally and friend in confidence."

Jon was glowering hard at the man, but Ser Jorah was oblivious of it, concerned only for her well being. When Missandei opened Danys door, he bowed low and kissed her hand, ignored Jon Snows impatient snort, and left her for the night. Her little scribe gave half a smile and closed the chamber door so that in the hall there was only Daenerys and Jon Snow alone. She waited diplomatically for him to begin, and she was certain he was looking at her, but she chose to study the carpet on the hall floor.

"Daenerys," he started then shook his head and stopped himself.

Her name, spoken for the first time from his lips hung out in the air and she felt rather stripped by it. Silence filled the space until she shrugged out of her cloak, and said, "Would you give this to Ser Davos, he was so kind-"

"Your grace." he broke in firmly, "Now is not the time to fly off and scare people into thinking you are dead."

Dany raised her eyebrows, "Is that what happened."

"Yes." he admitted readily, then. "No! Maybe, for a few of us." He shook his head, "Where were you?"

For a moment she allowed herself to look in his eyes. I keep forgetting how dark they are, she took in a long breath, how young his face, even with his beard and grave looking scar down his eye. What would he have to say about the men she'd burned, how they screamed, would he still seem so protective? With the way he stares at me just now, I believe I could burn the world down around him and he wouldn't care. She swallowed roughly.

"I was trying to reconcile myself with past sins, Jon Snow. If you must know." she held Ser Davos cloak in front of her with both hands, like a barrier. "Guilt is... a crippling emotion for a ruler. A weakness that will tare you down, if left unchecked. I cannot look back... But their faces remain. Ones who've died for me, ones who I've made die. Ones who died simply because I was coming to their city."

Like the little girls who died by the hundreds as a warning to me, Tears prickled at her eyes. All the nights I can't sleep, and wander around in the dark. Dany turned her face slightly away from him. Alone, even with a lover beside me.

"But with Drogon," she steadied her voice, "It's as though he doesn't know whats inside my head, but whats inside my heart. There is no judgment from my children, only trust. And when we fly, we soar. So high above this world, that it vanishes. This cursed rock, the sea, Westeros. Above the clouds..." Dany grew wistful, "the air is so strange you can hardly breath, the stars are so close and everything falls away. Even the faces...for a while at least-"

She knew she was rambling, but what made her stop was Jon Snows face. It may have been the small tilt of his head, the empathetic warmth in his eyes or the way his young brow formed the saddest expression she'd ever seen, but she knew it was working against her. As always, his gaze moved between her lips and her eyes, but by the way he fidgeted, clenching his hands nervously, she knew if she waited long enough he would kiss her. Her fear was that she was losing the motivation to stop him, because the gods knew her blood was rushing.

"Forgive me, I must sound like a fool." She stuffed the heavy cloak at him, in a move to separate. "I'm just so tired-"

"Have you told Tyrion any of this, or Varys?" he spoke at last.

Shaking her head, she found herself saying, "I've never wanted to look unsure in front of them, even Tyrion. He may advise me, but in the end it is I who must make the decisions. The good and the bad."

Jon took a very deep breath, and nodded. Still his eyes were soft, and did not stop searching her face.

"I fear I will have to retire before dinner, my lord." Dany broke the silence again, but he snagged her wrist first before she could flee.

"Wait, girl." he whispered, and he stepped in nearer than Ser Jorah had ever dared to come. "We each of us have our own faces to forget. You are not alone in that. You are never alone"

Maybe it was how gently his fingers wrapped around her, and yet still held firm, but she found herself captured by more then just the heat of his grip. She could feel it burning through the fabric of her dress, and in the deep, wood fire smell of him. You are never alone. The thought of what the king in the north would do to her if she pulled him into her room, made her so heavy with desire, that her eyes closed. She was fully aware, when he slowly worked his thumb into her palm, of how her fingers involuntarily curled around it.

But you are technically my enemy. Dany's eyes flew open and she looked on him as objectively as she could. No matter how deeply I may feel drawn to you. No matter how easy it may be to let whatever this force is take me with it. I am not yours, and you are not mine. She pulled her hand away and took a small, painful step back.

He nodded. As though he'd read her thoughts, and she caught just the tiniest flash of pain in his face before he bowed his head and walked away from her. She shut her eyes and leaned her head back against her door. It was not what she intended, to harm him, but it did help her to fly off and understand things as a whole again. If she hadn't she would never have been able to resist the man. And she must resist him, or her head would be filled with something other than the plan. But then, why does it feel like I'm split in half...

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