Jonerys One Shot

That Doesn't Matter Now

She was there, in front of that throne that she had so much scope but that now, for some hours at that moment it didn't interest her more, she had made a massacre and she had been forced, now she felt guilty.
There was no remedy, she wanted people to realize how she really was, and not only saw her as an unscrupulous tyrant, her life had been based on this. Destroy the wheel formed by monarchs poorly forgiving and inappropriate for Westeros.
But that a Targaryen in pain is a dangerous thing.
A Targaryen only in pain is the worst thing one can hope for.
She had lost all those who were faithful to her once.
Few of them had been to the end, that same end that she herself had looked into her eyes, while death was painted on the faces of her friends, her family, the only one she had ever had.
She felt empty, she knew she could do nothing to save them, she would never have succeeded, but it hurt her terribly.
She had a broken heart and there was no one who could help her, not even Drogon, who was also suffering, for having lost his brothers and for seeing his mother in that state.
Daenerys was alone, at that moment, if she was really aware of it, even the man she loved and trusted by now believed more in her.
She wondered if at the same time, Jon was thinking about how to kill her.
Perhaps even reflecting on a way to end it as quickly as possible or a way to trick it better.
She still hoped with all of herself that it was not so,she hoped that the same boy she had met a year before, had not acted, had not pretended to love her, had not used her.
She understood it was difficult, the situation was not one of the best, but she could never stop loving him, she would never have succeeded, especially now.
And despite everything, she would have chosen to take the same path, to fall in love again with that impertinent King of the North, who had joined her to save his people.
To get lost in his eyes again as she looked at him.
She would repeat every single thing she did with him, because he had been the only one, after Drogo, for whom she felt something strong.
Perhaps stronger than her first love.
And now she was more and more convinced that she was destined for Jon Snow, or rather Aegon Targaryen. She had to talk to him, she had to do it absolutely.
She couldn't think that under the circumstances, someone could kill her before revealing everything.
She could not know if that someone would be him and this despite the ever-present awareness in the last few hours, he killed her whenever the thought touched her mind.
She deserved to have a chance, to explain to Jon, even if it seemed madness even to himself, what she had supposed a few hours before.
The swollen belly, the most pronounced breast, the most felt fatigue in the limbs.
She hadn't felt this way since the days of the Dothraki sea.
She was aware that this was impossible.
She could not have given birth to a living child, so the Maegi had told her that she had killed her first child and her husband many years before.
At least not until the seas dried up, could the mountains fly in the wind like dead leaves and the sun could rise in the west and set in the east.
She had also told her, however, that only death could repay life.
Two of his sons were dead ... there was no other possible explanation for what he was accused of at the time.

She put his hands on his belly and felt herseld die.
She should never have done all this, now she was in danger, and with herself,her son too.
She would lose everything again.
She would lose that child again, along with her life.
She knew, Jon and the others had betrayed her, they had conspired behind her.
And she could not in any way escape from what she deserved.
Because she believed she deserved it, for all that suffering she had unleashed on an entire city in a few hours.
But the child she was carrying was not guilty of all that,he was innocent.
She wanted so badly to tell Jon, it seemed right that he knew.
At the same time the thought that he could save her only because her son's mother destroyed her completely and definitively.
Copious tears ran down her cheeks, followed by uncontrollable sobs that shook her whole body.
She had let herself go, allowed all her feelings that she was trying to come out.
Until then she had remained impassive, suffering in silence and resisting everything she felt.
Shee could not have been seen weak, it would have been his end.