A/N: The wedding night burns on. Time is running out and Daenerys has a chat with Arya!
"There is a hunger that is stirring up inside of your mind
It keeps on twisting and turning to the sound of desire
You want to taste and see and drink from my cup
You cannot rest
There is no giving this up
I spin a silver string and hang up all the stars that you'll find
I will move
Give you rhythm
Speak in Tongues
'Til you listen
Listen and sin
You feel my words
They hit like thunder coming down from the sky
You want to give into the song that keeps repeating itself
It goes
'Oh can you save me from the sickness of love?'
Could soar with angels
But you're not strong enough
Rest on my shoulder 'til it's over
and the battle is won"
Speak in Tongues - machineheart
*******
Daenerys
"Love is the death of duty..." Jon said, voice contemplative as he ran his fingers through her ratty hair.
Daenerys arched a brow, unsure why he'd brought this up now. They'd both woken in the middle of the night, hands grasping and pulling at each other feverishly. She had given herself over willingly to the heat of his touch and basked in the afterglow. After helping each other clean up, they'd returned to their bed and shared their thoughts, fortified by wine and the lovely afterglow that warmed her through. Jon's mouth quirked in response to her silent demand for an explanation.
"I don't think I ever told you, but I knew your great uncle, Aemon Targaryen. I served with him at the Wall until his death. He knew about you, my friend would read him reports of your doings across the sea. He was very proud of you."
Her hand froze, goblet halfway to her mouth as his quiet words settled in her, heavy and thick as sorrow wrapped around her throat and squeezed. She hadn't known she'd had any family left here while she'd been building and solidifying her power in the East. Had thought herself terribly alone. But she hadn't been. The knowledge that someone had been rooting for her despite not knowing her eased some of that old ache that had never fully healed after Viserys' death. She only wished she'd been able to meet him. Jon's dark eyes hadn't moved from hers as she'd worked through his words. A gentle, knowing smile flirted with his mouth.
She cleared her throat and took a deep swallow of her wine, draining it before dropping the empty goblet to the floor, voice tentative once she trusted herself to speak "What was he like?"
"He was one of the best men I ever knew. He hated all that befell your family and that he couldn't be there to advise you. He told me once that love is the death of duty and the bane of honor, that neither compared to love. I didn't fully understand it until you."
She couldn't help but feel a little offended, knowing how much his honor meant to him, and Jon must've seen it cross her face before she could smother it.
"Before you, all I had was honor and duty. I clung to it. But now, I understand why he said they were just hollow words when we have been fashioned for love. A life with none is an empty one."
"He sounds like he was a wise man. Did people respect him?" She said and smiled, reaching out to thread her fingers through his and squeeze.
"He was, and they did. He was a great man. Not even those that hated me would disrespect him when he helped name me Lord Commander."
She huffed, anger bubbled up her throat like steam at the thought of his treatment at the hands of those who hated him. She had to bite her tongue to keep it from scalding the one who didn't deserve it.
"Were they the ones that did this to you?" She asked, lifting their joined hands to his scarred chest, the sight of them still disturbing and infuriating her. Each deep gash just reminded her that he wasn't supposed to be here. She might have never known him. The thought chilled her soul.
Jon nodded, eyes softening at her reaction. "They ambushed me. Lured me outside, claimin' one of the Wildlings had spoken of my Uncle Benjen. They took it in turns. 'For the Watch.'"
She closed her eyes and sighed through her nose, every part of her screaming at her to find their bones and roast them to ash. But it wouldn't fix anything, only give the fury she felt on his behalf a satisfactory outlet. As it was a night for confessions, she hunted for something to share with him and take his mind off knives in the dark. Opening her eyes to meet his as she dove in.
"Your brother, Bran, he's been sending me ravens. They're terribly cryptic, and I haven't made sense of most of them. He was staunch in his belief that we must be together and the dragon must have three heads. Which is why I've been thinking about who your mother might've been."
Jon blinked, brows creasing, and she braced herself for his reproach at her keeping something from him, but he surprised her.
"I am glad he's supportive. But I don't know if I can help you make sense of them. I don't know him as he is now... Why didn't you tell me about them before?"
She shook her head, lifting a shoulder in a lazy shrug, "I didn't plan to hide them from you forever. With the first one, I wanted time to come to terms with everything, and then everything had to be hurried along. I used it as an excuse to keep it from you. I'm sorry. I'm used to being alone and only trusting in myself. You were a surprise. One I'm grateful for every day."
He smirked a little, just enough that she could tell he wasn't upset, and she felt the weight of that small secret bleed out of her on her next exhale.
"Independent. Bossy. Hard headed. That's why I fell for you. I don't need to know every small thing, but the things you do want to share? I want to know all of that." He said simply, and she had no arguments.
"We can read through his next message together. I want to share everything with you. I'd have it no other way." She swore, meaning every word this time.
"Good," Jon murmured, unlacing their hands to wrap one around her waist and tug her closer, tasting his words on her parted lips an inch from his, "I think we should celebrate by not sleepin'."
She chuckled and slid her leg between his, nipping at his plump bottom lip and letting him deepen the kiss into something wilder. Hands roamed, his and hers, traveling over hard muscle and soft curves, blunt nails dragging over her ass and hers digging into his hair to pull him closer. She sighed into his mouth as he gripped her waist and rolled onto his back, dragging her across his chest. Splitting her thighs and straddling him to grind on the hard length she felt sliding against her folds. Her hot hands clutched his shoulders as his tongue slid against hers and his hands delved into the cleft of her ass to dabble in the wetness pooling in her core. He was moving with her, seeking friction, and she felt like she was melting into his skin, drowning in him.
It would've been effortless to reach behind her and line him up before sinking down and taking charge of their pleasure. But an idea struck her, one she hadn't given much thought to but now was a craving that had her moaning with the next glide of his cock against her slick cunt. She wanted to taste him, serve him the way he had her and leave him a shaking mess in the end. She broke away from his sweet mouth and smirked as she slowly sat back on her haunches, trailing her fingers down his torso as he looked at her quizzically. Her husband was a beautiful man, and he was all hers. Where to start? Those lust hazed eyes didn't waver from hers until she cast her gaze over those terrible scars and wondered how long it would take to erase the years of hate and neglect he'd suffered before her. She knew it would be a long time, maybe never, but wanted to make up for it in some way tonight. He looked like to grab her and take charge, she couldn't have that.
"Patience, Jon. Lie back and let your wife take care of you."
Jon frowned but nodded, a spark catching in his dark eyes, and she smiled wickedly before turning her attention to making him feel as loved as she did with him. Slowly, she began to explore. She used her hands and fingers to map his pale skin and watched the muscle jump and bunch under her touch. Taunting and playing with him, a different kind of power settled over her then. She lowered herself to drag her lips and teeth down his chest, finding no give in his skin but enjoying his musky taste as she pressed open-mouthed kisses over each scar. Soon, she found that trail of dark hair and followed it with a fingertip to wrap her fist around his rigid cock. Nestled between his thighs, she eyed her prize, then up to his face, his body was as tense as a bowstring, and his hands were curled into the ruined sheets, knuckles white as she teased him. He looked torn between telling her she didn't have to do this, and reaching out to hurry her along.
She held his gaze and stroked her hand over him, watching his hips jerk with each pass. Her free hand danced over his inner thigh, nails digging into the sensitive spot enough to make him jolt but not enough to hurt. She could see him growing impatient with her and knew it was only a matter of time before he shattered her illusion of control and made her beg. She lowered her head and licked a line up the length of him before taking the crown of his cock into her mouth and swirling her tongue over it. Her hand moving still, up and down as she toyed with him. He was so hard and thick she couldn't take all of him. She pursed her lips and hollowed her cheeks as she worked her way down in a tight, wet glide and felt him hit the back of her throat. She backed off and focused on the head again, eyes on him as he flinched and twitched with her every movement, a rough groan as she used her other hand to cup his stones and give them a gentle massage.
He tasted like sex and her, but underneath it all, she could detect his unique scent. The pine and snow of the North clung to him even now, salt and musk was heavy on her tongue as she stole the drop of moisture gathering at the tip. She wondered if anyone else had ever taken him in their mouth or if she was the first. Either way, she was determined to make him come and give him something to remember. She worked him into her mouth, sucking him down deep, and feeling him in her throat, eyes watering at the urge to gag before she managed to relax. She swallowed around him, and again, hand still twisting lightly as he flailed and moaned, her name barely audible over the gravel in his voice. His hands were soon in her hair, guiding her movements and forcing her to back off as he sobbed and twitched.
She wanted to feel him come in her mouth, uncaring about her own state and if she'd get her own release. All she had wanted was to taste all of him, but the fire in her belly and the wetness coating her inner thighs grew increasingly harder to ignore. The sight of him unraveling almost too much to bear. He must've sensed the need in her, or she'd made some sound to alert him as she used her hands and mouth to pleasure him because the fingers in her hair tightened and tried to lift her off. His voice cut through the smoke in her lusty mind.
"Turn about, Dany." He demanded, voice rough as she toyed with him.
She didn't halt her movements but met his eye, arching a brow in question as he jerked into her mouth and stole her next breath.
"Let me help you." He said and licked his lips, eyes burning black as they watched her work.
Her lust crazed mind took a moment to catch on as he let go of her hair and nudged her with his thigh to make her move. Excitement turned her legs to water as she clumsily did as he'd asked and let him go for now. She was already trembling as she settled her knees on either side of his head and lowered herself down on his body, resuming her task before he could make her forget what she was doing. She'd barely begun when his skilled tongue traced the seam of her and opened her up to sample her essence. His fingers were firm and unyielding as they wrapped around her thighs to keep her trapped. She did her best to keep going, tightening her lips around him, as tight as her cunt as she moved over him and then skimming her tongue around the head and swallowing him down. He wasn't content to let her win.
The soft laving of his tongue was enough to distract her as he tried to clean her mess away, but he only made it worse. It wasn't a delicate tasting, like always, it was all consuming, and she knew she'd break before him. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, featherlight flicks against the small bundle of nerves to make her cry out, the sound muffled around his cock. The hands holding her captive would leave bruises behind, and she delighted in it, rocking back on his face, loving the scratch of his whiskers against her tender flesh. Even the sounds as he sucked her clit into his mouth stoked the flames inside her. Lewd and vulgar, little groans and growls as he devoured her and drank her essence down, more flooding his throat with each pass of his tongue. When he grazed his teeth over her clit, she forgot all about him, freeing her mouth and dropping her head in a moan as her hand lazily stroked him out of rhythm.
She swore she could feel him smiling as he probed her entrance, his hot tongue pushing inside and out again, returning to her clit until she was sure her knees would no longer hold her up. He eased off as she felt the warning pulse of release, a little annoyed at how fast he could unravel her. She gave herself a shake and concentrated on him. Taking him in her mouth again and redoubling her efforts, hand curling around the base and twisting gently as she bobbed and sucked in her cheeks on her way back up. But then he buried his face in her folds and devoured her, holding her still as he fucked her with his tongue and she tried to move away. Her stomach tensed, and she was quivering. Her elbows planted in the mattress couldn't hold her up as he turned his attention to her clit. Sparks of flame shot down her torso and straight to her weeping cunt. She gave throaty cry that made her bite his thigh to smother it.
It was like a coil inside drew too tight, the metal groaning as he dipped his tongue inside her again, and she sobbed, hand moving along his length in tandem with his tongue. Just as she was close to snapping, he relented and slid his hands up her thighs and over her hips, moving her off him. She understood without him saying the words and worked her way down his body, knees wobbling as she crawled until she straddled his hips. Planting her hands on his knees, she leaned forward and felt the fat head of his cock teasing her entrance as he lined himself up with her. She sank down in one fluid motion, taking him to the hilt and arching her back, so he knocked against her womb.
Her mouth was open, but she couldn't make a sound. He had fucked her well twice before this, but it felt like the first time every time with him. That feeling of fullness completely overwhelmed her as she rolled her hips to force herself to soften around him. He was tense under her, unmoving, giving her time to acclimate, and it was that care that made her start moving in earnest. Jon scratched his nails down her back as she bounced over him, making her shiver and moan as he hit the spot deep inside her that made her hips stutter. Causing a flood of wetness that made it effortless to ride him, the muttered encouragement he gave her barely audible over the blood rushing in her ears.
He wrapped her hair in his hand, giving it a sharp tug, and the sting of pain merged beautifully with the sensations she was lost in. His breathing was ragged as she bottomed out and rested for a moment, chest heaving as sweat trickled down her face and neck. The hand in her hair tightened, and she threw her head back, encouraging him to do it again and practically purring when he did. She drew in a breath. Release beckoned and glimmered close enough to touch. Still, she held it off and ground her hips in circles, lifting up and dropping back down, each drop hitting deeper until she lost all rhythm. He helped her along as her legs began to tire and ache, the coil inside her close to breaking. Flame licked down her body and pooled between her thighs with every drag of his cock as he loved with her.
Letting go of her hair, Jon's hands fell to her hips, helping to lift and push her to that edge. She whimpered in relief and pleasure, the thrumming tension she felt under her hands told her he was close too. His fingers slipped and grabbed as her skin grew damp with sweat and her cries turned desperate. She was burning in a way she never had. Fire had never burned her but this? He set her ablaze, and she loved every moment. Jon's gravelly voice and calloused hands on her skin only inflamed her more. With every snap of his hips and the nudge of his cock buried within her on that spot, she soon found herself balancing on the edge of that cliff. Jon groaned, feeling every flutter of her cunt as he brought her down on his length, both seeking release for the pressure quickly stealing their ability to think about anything else.
It had to end. She didn't want it to, but it had to. Both of them were strung too tightly, every muscle locking as he waited for her to fall first, and she knew his face would be marble as he clung to his restraint. That image of him, jaw clenched, eyes smoldering and so black she couldn't see the stars, made her let go of his thigh and move her shaking hand to her clit. The first touch forced her head down, her other hand turning into a claw she used to hold onto him and keep herself upright. Her name was a prayer on Jon's tongue as her fingers slipped to where they were joined. Looking down to see them, her folds split apart and soaked as she felt his cock under her fingers. It was too much. She whined with each intense plunge of his cock and the twist of her fingers on her clit.
They worked together as the coil inside her finally fractured, glowing embers scattering through her veins and nerves, making her writhe and plead. For more, for it to stop. She didn't know. Only felt as if he'd destroyed and remade her, her thoughts incoherent as she tried to cling to the present. She barely heard Jon's broken call as he slammed her down on his cock, her inner walls clamping around him like a vice as he spilled himself inside her. Draining him to the dregs. Her orgasm rolled through her, a full-body spasm stealing the air and wits from her. He held her, running a gentle hand down her sweaty back as she shivered and shook, each wave rippling and spinning her farther away from sanity. Bright spots of light glittered behind her closed eyes as the aftershocks flickered under her skin. She wasn't aware of being moved, only realizing they had once Jon had wrapped his body around hers and the kisses on her neck roused her from that boundary between sleep and waking. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it couldn't have been too long. He was still awake and cleared his throat once she stirred.
"I think we can sleep now, Your Grace." He teased, and she gave a rough chuckle, throat raw with exertion.
"It's still our wedding night, Your Grace." She threw back and delighted in the warm chuckle she felt on her skin.
"Aye, but not for long." He said, sounding mournful at the prospect of their time being over but content with what they'd managed to share.
She thought it over, knowing he'd gone along with a Southern Wedding because it was what was expected of her if she were to rule with him. He'd told her a little about what Northern weddings could be, and she wished she could've given him that. And selfishly wanted it for herself. She wished to learn all of his traditions and experience them with him. Her heart jumped in her chest, a smile breaking free as he tapped his fingers on her hip. But she couldn't promise him anything tonight, only give him hope for the future and her too, something to keep the light shining when their world grew cold and dark.
"Maybe we can have another night, my love. When we get to Winterfell."
***
They had been left alone for another day and night. They took full advantage of the lust running rampant between them before tumbling into a dreamless, exhausted sleep. She was grateful for Missandei and knew her friend was keeping everyone away and redirecting any efforts to rouse them. When she woke at the first rays of weak sunlight broke through a crack in the curtains, she put her back to it and edged closer to Jon, throwing her leg over his thigh and resting her head on his chest. She tried to beat back the mounting dread and regret building as she waited for the inevitable knock on their chamber door as Missandei arrived to help her tidy up her ravished state. They'd both cleaned up as much as they could, but her wet hair had dried into a mass of tangles, and she wasn't looking forward to Missandei brushing it out.
Jon awoke before anyone arrived to force them out, and he pulled her on top of him. She was still wet with his seed and her never-ending lust for him, the dull ache between her thighs each time she shifted a balm to her growing nerves. He kissed the top of her head and quietly wished her good morning. She smiled and hoped it would be, naïve, maybe, but she needed to believe it. They didn't speak much, both lost in their minds contemplating all that awaited them, and Missandei's knock was almost a relief by the time it cut through the heavy silence in their room. She sat up, chuckling as Jon leaped from the bed, grabbed the first clothing items his fingers landed on, and disappeared into the bathroom. She watched him and sighed dreamily as she eyed his lovely ass, every inch of him perfect.
Once Jon had safely locked himself away, she wrapped a sheet around herself and answered the door. Her friend was beaming, warm amber eyes glowing as they took in the mess Daenerys was in. She stepped back, held open the door to let Missandei in, and quickly locked it again. Her friend set the tray she was carrying on the small table near the window. Daenerys hurried over, stomach grumbling as they'd barely eaten more than a few bites of whatever food had been left for them when they surfaced from another round of making her scream Jon's name. She sat down and happily devoured her plate of food, bacon, eggs, and bread with cheese. She sipped at lemon water as Missandei filled her in on what she'd missed, interjecting with questions when the need arose. She listened and ate until the hollow feeling in her belly faded. Jon came out of the bathroom when Missandei began to rub oil through her mussed hair.
He was handsome as sin, and she couldn't keep the proud smirk from her face as she appraised him, noting the mark she'd left on his neck and something possessive preened at knowing everyone would see it. He came to her, bending to kiss her, thrilled that they could be open now, and his words about duty and love echoed in her head as he grabbed his bread and topped it with bacon and egg, barely chewing as he shoved it in his mouth. Maybe duty and love could find common ground. Love entwined with duty could work in unison with what the heart wanted and give them the passion and direction they needed to endure it all and fuel their attempts at setting this shit world to rights. It was a dream. One that didn't seem out of reach to her then.
After eating, he downed the goblet of water and left them to check in with Ser Davos and Arya. Missandei had brushed the knots out by then, and her hair shone like moonlight on snow as she began constructing her braids. Her friend made no comment about the marks and bruises on her skin, simply helped her dress to hide them and enquired about her apparent happiness. Daenerys divulged tiny pieces of all they'd shared, enough to make her friend's cheeks bloom with roses and that shy, pleased smile to curl her mouth. Their girlish moment gave Daenerys the strength to finally leave her chamber and face the day with a spine of steel.
***
Later, she'd met with Jon to spend a long morning reviewing reports and plans for the Northern threat and the moving of their forces. They wore matching smiles of pure contentedness that probably sickened those around them. She didn't care, and neither did Jon. However, she caught Arya nudging him when she noticed him staring at Daenerys as she handled the many questions flung her way. Tyrion was determined to catch them up on each minor issue they'd missed, but after being stuck inside for so long, she was itching to feel the sun on her face and spend some time with her sons. She'd called for Varys to attend only to discover he was off to convene with his little birds and wouldn't return until the morrow. Annoyed that he'd disappeared after she'd requested he stay close, she decided with Jon to wait for him to return before calling Missandei and Ser Davos to inform them of the changes to their roles.
Catching her husband's weary eye, he had become restless and quiet as the morning dragged on. She tilted her head and gestured toward the door. He sat straight, and relief glittered in his lovely eyes as she stood and clasped her hands before addressing those in the room. It had been a small gathering, Tyrion, Missandei, Ser Davos, and strangely, Arya. The young wolf seemed interested in getting to know her brother's new wife, and Daenerys hoped she could become a friend, if not a sister. It pleased her, and each time Arya asked her a question, she answered it honestly and with a small smile which was returned if the girl was happy with the reply. She addressed them all and held back a grin as Tyrion rolled his eyes and sighed, Ser Davos winked at his Monarch, and Arya just looked bored.
"I think we're well informed of all we missed. I will leave you to your tasks and take my husband to see my children." She stated calmly, leaving no room for arguments in her tone. Tyrion looked like to try, but Ser Davos cut in first after seeing the black look on Jon's face as he glared at Tyrion.
"I think their Graces are in need of some time outside the walls of this castle. This can wait."
Missandei was nodding, and Tyrion's mouth snapped shut, and he grudgingly jerked his chin in an approximation of a nod. She didn't wait for them to change their minds, nor did Jon. He took her hand and led her to the door, opening it and following her into the hallway. She inclined her head to the guards on either side of the door, and by the time they left the Keep to travel to the Dragonpit, they had a sizeable escort to ensure their safety. It was a longer journey on horseback than it had appeared to be from high up on dragonback. Jon sat tall in his saddle and kept one hand on his sword hilt, ready to unsheathe and defend her within seconds. His eyes darted around each time someone called out to them, searching for a threat and dismissing when there were none. No one dared to do more than gawk. She smothered the urge to swoon and giggle like a blushing maiden who needed a man's protection. Still, it was sweet and endearing to see him so wound up until her dragons swept overhead, and the commonfolk dove into the nearest shelter. She did grin then, and her heart felt weightless as she watched her sons circle the air above the Dragonpit.
She didn't plan to fly today, only check on her sons as she could sense their growing curiosity at her absence. Jon seemed eager to see them again, too. He hadn't hesitated to come with her. When they entered the pit, her guards keeping well back, Rhaegal immediately pinned him with those massive, intelligent eyes. The air was ripe with the scent of roasted meat and the dragon's aroma. She could never describe it adequately. It reminded her of a campfire, the charge in the air before a storm and smoke scattering in the wind. She loved it and knew it clung to her clothes whenever she was near her sons. She grinned and quickened her steps, charred bones crunching underfoot, tugging Jon along with her and heading straight for her fiercest child as Jon dropped her hand to go to his dragon. Drogon blinked lazily and huffed a little when she first approached, making her pay for staying away. Still, it wasn't long before he lowered his beautiful head for her to smooth her hands over his snout.
Babbling in their mother tongue, she laughed at the mental images flowing through their bond of their hunts and terrified small folk running for cover each time they flew over the city. She could sense Rhaegal on the edges of her mind, jealous and wanting some of her attention, too. Still, he was practically purring as Jon scratched the dragon's jaw. Her husband was at ease now. The fear and tension of the past had become a respectful admiration of her children. The sight of them together heated her blood. It infused her with a feeling of wholeness, a rightness she hadn't ever experienced.
Drogon allowed her to shower him in pets and attention for only so long before he turned and hefted his bulk over to the spot where a few half-eaten beasts awaited him. She moved over to Jon and Rhaegal, smiling as she absentmindedly scratched her smaller child's nose. The day was cool and fresh, and the sun shone above their heads, but winter was creeping ever closer, and she leaned against the dragon's hot hide as she spoke to her husband.
"We should take to the skies soon. You need more practice before we arrive in Winterfell."
Jon immediately looked northward and sighed, nodding as he turned back to her.
"I know... We can't stay here too much longer, or we risk allowin' the Night King to beat us there." He murmured, and her heart sank into her boots. Their time together would soon be fraught with peril and uncertainty. The selfish part of her rebelled and screamed at the unfairness of it all. It didn't help that she didn't want to go North and face their hatred for her and her family. She was nervous, she realized, to meet his family and petrified they'd hate her too. Jon was watching her, though; she knew he had sensed her reluctance to follow him home in the past, and she couldn't keep the worry from her face now. He sighed again, reaching out to cup her face and refusing to let her hide from him.
"We have to go, Dany. We'll make it back here, I swear it."
She drew in a breath and nodded. It wasn't Kings Landing she wanted to come back to. She missed Dragonstone. It hadn't felt like home until he'd walked into her throne room and openly defied her. The time they'd spent there had felt like home and safety. She treasured it and hoped they would return. But, she understood it wasn't the great Keep or her family's touch that had made it home. It was Jon.
"I know. I believe you."
***
Back in the Red Keep, she had just finished eating a quick dinner in her solar when Arya knocked on the door and entered before Daenerys could answer it. Jon's sister strolled in, looking entirely at ease and completely unreadable. Daenerys sat straighter and smiled at her good sister, relaxing an inch when the girl returned it, even if it was only a slight curl of her lips. Arya glanced around the space with an unimpressed look before she gracefully folded herself into the chair across from Daenerys and toyed with a spare quill she picked up off the desk. Daenerys arched a brow but remained quiet. It seemed as though the young wolf had something she wished to say, and Daenerys didn't want to push her. Arya's steel grey eyes flashed as they met Daenerys'.
"You love my brother," Arya stated, with no inflection or question in her voice.
Daenerys frowned but inclined her head.
"I do. What -" She started, but Arya went on.
"Jon told me you did, and I could see there was something there, but... Forgive me. I've learned many lessons during my short life. One of them is that love is often a lie people use to justify their terrible actions. I thought the same of you for a time." Arya explained, eyes on the quill she twirled between her fingers.
Daenerys bit back a defensive retort and fought the urge to fidget.
"What changed your mind?" She asked instead, ignoring the increased thump of her heart as the silence stretched on and Arya pondered the question. The threads of Daenerys' patience thinned and frayed as Arya carefully set down the quill and folded her hands behind her head, legs crossed at the knee, looking unruffled and sure of herself.
"I paid attention. I saw the way you looked at him and him at you. He rarely smiles or laughs and always carries the world on his shoulders. I didn't think anyone was good enough for him. But he said he died, and they brought him back. He resented them for it. Then he met you. You brought him back to life, and he smiles now. It's sickening, really, I never thought I'd miss the brooding, but I'm also grateful for it. And I see something similar in you. You didn't need anyone, not really, but you chose him, and I think deep down, you needed him too. Maybe love isn't what I believed it to be." Arya shrugged nonchalantly as if they were discussing the weather.
Daenerys smiled and cleared her throat, deciding to be honest and throw her usual queenly caution to the side. "I do need him. I've been alone for a long time. I had to learn to rely on myself to keep myself going. Men have only ever brought pain into my life. But your brother isn't like any man I've known. He has every reason to be hateful and angry. The life he's led hasn't been an easy one. But he chooses to be gentle and kind every day instead. He puts everyone before himself and will fight for everyone. Small and important, it doesn't matter. How can I not love someone like that?"
Arya smiled slowly and gave a satisfied little nod, eyes softening a shade as she met Daenerys steady gaze.
"He said the same about you," Arya said simply.
Daenerys ducked her head in a vain attempt to hide her grin, feeling silly but pleased. When she looked at Arya again, the girl was shaking her head, but amusement danced in her silver eyes.
"I think we'll get along just fine," Daenerys said. Arya chuffed but nodded.
"Treat my brother well, and we will. I like you and would hate to have to kill you."
A teasing quality to Arya's voice made Daenerys chuckle, but she knew there was truth there.
"He's safe with me, I promise. But from himself..." Daenerys trailed off, smirking when Arya immediately agreed.
"That's the real danger, I agree." Arya sighed and rolled her eyes, "He has a startling habit of running headlong into danger if he thinks he can save everyone."
"We'll be there to help and shield him. He isn't alone anymore," Daenerys replied, sure they had a long battle ahead of them with Jon but still hopeful they'd manage to keep him from doing anything stupid.
Arya tilted her head and appraised Daenerys, "You should learn to defend yourself."
Daenerys understood it was both an observation and an offer.
"I have my dragons. They are the greatest weapons anyone could have. What is a blade to them?"
Arya gave her a look that told Daenerys she wasn't fooling her and she wouldn't let this drop.
"That won't matter if you're separated from them or if someone attacks you whilst you're in bed or on the ground. The North remembers. There are many people there who would see you dead. You should prepare for that."
Daenerys grimaced, her stomach suddenly a nest of snakes as dread filled her bones with its leaden weight.
"And you're going to teach me, I suppose?" She asked.
"I will. And I'll watch your back as well as I do Jon's. You're important to him. That means you are important to me too. You'll have my full support when we get to Winterfell."
Daenerys was stunned. She'd known Arya respected her and perhaps liked her a little. Having her support was a boon she hadn't dared to ask for.
"Thank you, Arya," Daenerys said sincerely, but it didn't seem enough.
Arya waved her off, "Don't thank me yet. I haven't taught anyone before, nevermind a Queen."
"Even so, Thank you."
"I'm glad we got that out of the way. I'll let you do whatever it is that Queens do, and I'm going to see if Brienne will spar with me." Arya said and slapped her hands to her thighs before rising and heading to the door.
Daenerys shook her head with a smile and wished her luck, slumping back in her chair as the door closed, delighted and a little scared at the idea of learning from Arya. She had her support now, and had done for longer than the young wolf realized. As she tidied her desk and prepared letters she had to send out the next day, she felt some of her apprehension about going North bleed from her. She had their chosen King and his favorite sister on her side. That would deflect some of the vitriol flung her way. If the Gods were kind, maybe they could come away from this better and stronger than before. She could only hope. And that was enough for now.