Northern Conqueror

Chapter 44: Pack of Dragons

Chapter 44: Pack of Dragons

Ever since that hug after he'd woken up they found Jon quick to hold them or grasp at them. He never said anything, but both suspected it was brought about by moments of need. A need to to feel warmth, to remind himself he was alive, that it wasn't some dream he was having as he sank into the depths of the Bay of Seals.

When they laid together he found himself shifting between tender and aggressive, wanting to feel them cling to him and quiver as he found release, wanting them to feel as alive as he felt with them.

They never complained when he'd sit up in a panic in the middle of the night. Once he'd grabbed them as if protecting them from some phantom, startling them awake until they heard his harsh breaths and saw his eyes frantically searching the room. Both had held him until he calmed down and drifted to sleep clinging to them protectively until they woke.

Daenerys hadn't left him much at all, though they all understood her fear. She'd lost her first husband to an infected cut so spent her days caring for his shoulder wound, obsessively making sure it was clean.

She'd left to meet with Tyrion and returned to find him sat near the edge of his bed when he looked up to see her enter. With a smile he pushed his furs aside, making space on his right for her to join him before holding out his arm.

He saw her hesitance as she sat beside him, making sure not to put any weight on his shoulder as she leaned her head against it. A smirk flickered across his lips before he pulled her into his shoulder as tight as he could. Daenerys gasped and turned, smacking his chest as she pushed off it to pull herself away. The moment she could she lifted his tunic and checked his stitches.

"Dany," he sighed, grasping her cheek to make her look at him. "I'm fine, I swear. It's not infected. It probably got washed right away in the bay. I feel stronger today than I did yesterday."

Looking into his eyes she frowned. "I don't need a hero, Jon. I don't care if you're brave or strong, it won't impress me half as much as you being here and healthy. Do you understand?"

Jon nodded. "I do. If something is wrong I'll tell you. I promise."

"You're our only chance," she said grimly. "You need to be here to make sure our house doesn't end with us. I don't want to be the last Targaryen anymore."

"You're not," Jon said brushing a hand through her hair. He gave her a sly smile as he told her, "You won't be."

Daenerys wore a somber smile, shaking her head. "It's fine. I'm... I've been so lucky. I thought I was alone, that the Targaryens would die out with me. Even when I heard of you and we decided to wed, part of me feared I'd end up your Visenya, but you've never let me feel lesser."

Seeing this was a fear she'd been holding from him, Jon frowned, guilt swelling within him. "I'm sorry if I ever made you think you would be."

Dany sniffed, shaking her head. "You didn't. But I know I can't avoid it here. The future of our house will go to you, and the only part of me left will be whatever blood we share from my parents." She added with a wet laugh, "That and whichever of your children inherits my sword."

Jon hated this. He couldn't convince her to believe like he did that they'd have children. He couldn't do anything to really help her feel better. He felt as weak as he did watching the Night King snap Longclaw.

His arm slipped beneath hers, pulling her to him and holding her against him. He wanted to say something, but didn't know what would help, if anything even could. So he just held her. After a moment her arms tightened around him, feeling almost as if she were trying to crush him in her small arms if not for her pressing her face into his neck.