A Dragon is not a Slave

How about "My Queen."

It was hot in the ships cabin, the first time in days Dany had felt her fingers, but she hardly noticed. Jon was laying in a half state, as though he might never wake again, and there was a familiarity in the air all around. She remembered this feeling well, and it dragged her soul so far down she was almost sickened. Drogo lay, just the same, looking so much like this young hero, and he never woke again. Not properly. And I tried so hard...
Dany tried to push or pull the thoughts away but they hung around her, and punished her every time Jon Snow took a ragged, chesty breath. Once, Missandei came to insist she go to sleep, and once Ser Davos came offering to relieve her of her watch, but Dany turned both away. Late into the night she lost all her consciousness, and woke hours later curled up like a cat at the foot of his bed. Still he did not wake. He looked so beautiful, and so terrifyingly close to death, with the moonlight on his face. The scars that were carved into his chest were so much more than those she'd seen take down larger men. Perhaps that was why she hoped.
In the latest, darkest hour she cried and cried, wishing she could comfort her own dragons above. They circled around the ship as though she might be able to produce Viserion, but every time her mind went to that golden thing, the counterpart to Rhaegal, it was fractured. It was like that part of her had broken. Worrying for Jon when her child was dead, was like worrying for Drogo, when her baby had gone. It distracted from the awful truth she just couldn't face yet. For the rest of the night she paced, lost more tears, and watch Jon anxiously.
With the dawn, there seemed to be a change. One of the craftier healers from Dragonstone said he carried no fever, and was rather astounded by it. "The man seems but sleeping! He should be dead..."
Again, Dany's breathing shook, he had cheated death as much as I...
But she sat down by Jons side with so much relief that she simply had to take his hand. It was only then that his eyes began to move, and his breathing stirred. She dropped it at once, and waited, feeling some heat in her cheeks rise. His eyes opened, so confused at first, searching the room for some familiarity. It was her cabin, so some reaction was expected. Dany couldn't speak, but only stare at him, unable to fully believe he was waking. Waking... she realized, it was all I wanted for Drogo.
"I'm sorry," he found his voice, and she was never more glad to hear it, "I'm so sorry." She shook her head, and went to answer but found herself on the verge of tears instead. He took her hand, and held it softly. Gods how it burns to touch him... "I wish I could take it all back." he said, not seeming to feel it. "I wish we would never have gone."
Dany pulled her hand away, because it was terribly distracting, and said, "I don't. You have to see it to know...and now I know." His expression and his eyes were crushing her, but she continued, "The dragons are my children. They are the only children I'll ever have," she paused and felt the tears spill out of her eyes. But she pressed herself more, because it needed stressing, "Do you understand?"
Jon Snow nodded, but with the way his eyes traveled up her body she didn't believe he truly wanted to understand. But that was another sadness, another pain she would have to deal with later. Now there was the pain of Viserion, and the matter of avenging him.
"We are going to destroy the Night King and his army," she promised Jon, choosing to connect pointedly, eyes upon eyes. "And we'll do it together. You have my word."
"Thank you, Dany," he sighed in relief.
She felt strange upon hearing such a familiar title pass his lips, not bad, but the sound made her flush a little. "Dany?" she repeated. "Who was the last person who called me that... was it my brother? Hmm," she mused, but of course, those memories were of pain, and fear. "Not the company you'd want to keep." Jon was watching her face sharply.
"Alright." he said with a frown, "Not Dany.... How about my Queen?"
She stared.cSeconds passed before what he'd said truly sank into her. He wouldn't... If she'd decided only one thing about Jon Snow by now, it was that he meant what he said, almost to a fault.
"I'd uh, bend the knee, but-"
Quickly she asked, "But what about those who swore allegiance to you?"
"They'll soon come to see you for who you are." his voice was low, and she instantly thought. HE sees me for who I am.
The flood of feeling she suddenly felt wasn't about the supporters, in fact that part of it was surprisingly not important anymore to her. What struck her, was that this man whom she had grown to respect so much, seemed to respect her as well. She'd told him she would fight with him, and when he no longer had to bend to her, he did. Daenerys took his hand warmly, and said, "I hope I deserve it."
Jon, smiling quietly, lifted his eyes slowly to her face. "You do."
She feared she might cry again, in front of him, and she had cried enough the night before. But when she tried to draw her hand back Jon held her fingers. It wasn't an overbearing capture, nor was it light and teasing. It was meant to communicate something to her, and when she finally made herself meet his eyes, she knew exactly what he was trying to say. It was entirely clear, and she could feel things inside of her being drawn out, responding to him. So Dany pulled her hand away, before it was too late.
"You should get some rest," she said to him, but in actuality she was saying it to herself. Rest, think, reflect, and do not fall in love with him.
Jon nodded, swallowed, and rather awkwardly closed his eyes. Dany breathed hard, somehow she couldn't gain the air. Perhaps because Jon Snow was alive, awake, and now sworn to her. Such sudden loyalty was intoxicating, but then he spoke his true feelings for her- without words, and yet so thoroughly. She whirled up out of the chair, allowed herself another glance at him, and left the room at once.
Outside the door, Missandei waited and looked awash with relief when she saw Dany. "My queen. Please, you must eat and rest. This room here."
Daenerys did as the scribe suggested, but each morsel of food stuck inside her and she sat down on the beds edge, her mind trying to fight the image of Jon Snow. But if she tried to think of something else, Viserion, swirling in the sky entered her brain, and she was slammed with a wall of pain. Crippled with it, in fact. For just a moment, she grasped her stomach and crumpled. Grief was the worst of her emotions, always there below the surface. Being who she was had been an anchor in the ocean of it, and if she ever let go, she knew she would drown. It might be her death...
Daenerys sat up, and rubbed her tears away. "No." she said out loud and jumped to her feet. Taring open on of the chests she found a heavy leather cloak, like that of a thief , with a hood. She considered it good enough to keep her from being too wind blown, and she struggled it on over her heavy wool and fur dress, and did up all the straps and buckles.
The passage outside of her door was empty, mercifully, and she stole through it. Peeking into Jon's room once more, she found him to be resting, restlessly, and then she slipped up the stairs, before he could see her. Up on deck she kept to the places she knew there would be no crew, and with the hood over her hair, no one noticed her. Until that is, she reached the stern and found a massive man looking out at the trail of disturbed sea behind them.
"Pardon," she said when they met eyes. He was one of the few she'd saved beyond the Wall. This one had half of a rouges face, and half a burned one.
"I'm sorry about yer dragon." he said brusquely.
Dany felt the wave of pain afresh, "Thank you." she said, a little wobbly. "I never thanked you for the service you did going North of the wall, Ser Sandor."
"Aye, but the Stark boy did."
"Stark boy," Dany repeated softly "I didn't believe him." her eyes searched the skies for Drogon. Come and take me away from this pain, she thought. "I wish I had... then Viserion would still be here."
"I saw him." Ser Sandor coughed, "The Night King. Looks like a right old cunt."
Daenerys laughed once.
"Stark's," the man almost barked, "They're men of their word. And women."
Dany sighed. "Do you think we can win this war, Ser?"
Sandor Clegane turned and regarded her. "I used to think fire was the greatest enemy there was." Dany understood why, and listened closely. "But then I looked into the flames and found one that was worse one. And then I heard of a girl who walked out of great infernos without burning alive."
Daenerys swallowed hard. Yes, she felt something inside say, The dragons blood is in you.
"I supposed if anyone can stop a King made of ice, it would be a Queen of fire and dragons." Ser Gregor's voice had grown soft, and so unexpectedly admiring that Dany turned back to him meaningfully. She drew close and took his large, gloved hands.
"You have my protection always." she told him. "I owe you great a debt for saving the life of my knight, Ser Jorah."
Behind her swooped a dragon, and she somehow knew by the lightness of foot and the swiftness of his tale that it was Rhaegal. She turned back to Ser Sandor. "People will fear for me, please would you tell them I mean to fly myself to Kings Landing?"
The large knight nodded, and bowed slightly, but he was eyeing Rhaegal and his hand was on his sword. Dany scrambled up the lithe dragons neck, and when she was ready Rhaegal jumped into the sky, more speedy than Drogon but not anywhere near his size. She clung on hard, and wondered about Jon down below her, hoping the chaos of her leaving would not effect him too much. But there was a sense of freedom, escaping the closeness of that boat, and the feelings that came along with Jon Snow. In the thin, freezing air above the clouds she could still clearly hear his voice say, How about my queen.