So you know what's crazy? I actually started writing this last Sunday, before any of today's episode leaked online. I thought to myself "I would love it if Daenerys went up beyond the wall to stage an epic rescue with her dragons, but that will never happen because it's GoT and shit like that only happens once a season and there has already been an awesome dragon battle, so I'm just going to write about it." But then I found out that she does stage an epic rescue – far more epic than the one that happens here, since I was trying to be a little more realistic considering how GoT usually turns out – and I was so super excited.

Anyways, She Rises isn't going anywhere, and neither is The Zone Where Black and White Clash, so don't freak out. I'm just on a GoT kick recently, since it's upped the ante this season.

Also, I am aware that Jon and Daenerys share more DNA than anyone else on this show besides Jaime and Cersei, and that it's really pretty gross, but hell, this is Game of Thrones. Incest is trendy.



"I'm an idiot."

"Don't disparage yourself – "

Daenerys whirled on her Hand, her heart clenching with anxiety. "Jon Snow is now my closest ally, and I said a cheerful goodbye as he sailed off to venture beyond the wall," she said forcefully. "This was a ridiculous plan." Her nostrils flared, and she wrung her hands worriedly. "What if he dies?"

Tyrion sat down in a chair, looking weary. "I know you've only known Jon Snow for a brief time," he said, "but trust me when I say the man can take care of himself. Now that my brother's lost his sword hand, Snow is widely considered to be the best swordsman in Westeros." He paused to pour himself a drink. "He's a Northman, and he'll be surrounded by other Northmen. Northmen are tough as nails."

She swallowed, and sat heavily. She pictured the man in her mind: powerfully built, rugged, with years of hardship etched onto his face. He had plenty of scars; even though she'd only seen his skin from the neck up and from the wrist down, the scars she'd seen were countless. And his eyes held a certain determination that most men lacked – hard and dark and hot, full of carefully controlled passion and a spark of recklessness that made her nervous.

You like this man, Missandei had said while helping her dress for bed one night. The Northerner.

Daenerys had felt deeply uncomfortable. He's not hard to like, she'd said, her tone aloof. He seems kind.

He stares at you, her advisor had murmured quietly.

Those words had haunted Daenerys since that day. He stares at you.

"I should have sent someone with him," she said. "More men than just Ser Jorah."

"Do you imagine the Dothraki doing well up there beyond the wall?" Tyrion said sardonically. "I stood up there, once upon a time, and looked out. Nothing but snow and ice and rock, with a smattering of trees here and there. It's a wasteland. The Dothraki wouldn't last an hour." He took a long sip of his drink. "Besides, I imagine a smaller party moves faster, and more quietly."

"I've sent him to his death," she whispered, ignoring the practicality of his words. "I should have sent more men. Or done something more than stand there like an idiot as he sailed off on his ship." She pinched the bridge of her nose.

There was a pause, and Tyrion cleared his throat. "That still might be an option."

She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about? They've been gone for weeks. They've undoubtedly passed the wall by now."

The dwarf drummed his fingers against the stone table, looking out the window. Her gaze followed his, and her eyes alighted on Viserion and Rhaegal, who dove into the sea to catch fish.

"What are you suggesting?" she asked quietly, her gut clenching.

"I heard that one of your dragons was quite taken with Jon Snow," he quipped. "I've touched your two smaller ones on their necks before, down in the catacombs beneath Mereen. It was terrifying. Drogon is another matter entirely. And yet Qhono said he saw Snow stroke his nose as he would a hound." He raised an eyebrow at her.

She exhaled heavily. "Drogon was trying to intimidate him – it was a test, I think," she said. She smirked slightly. "The King in the North remained undaunted. Besides me, Drogon has never encountered anyone who hasn't cowered before him. Snow earned his respect."

She remembered how her heart had skipped in her chest when she'd seen him run his palm over Drogon's snout, his expression one of awe instead of terror. She remembered how much she'd wanted him in that moment. It had been an irrational desire, built upon the fact that an exceptionally good-looking man had looked her wildest son in the eyes without fear – only caution and respect. She was attracted to him, to be sure – she'd have to be blind to not appreciate how handsome he was, and how he carried himself: confidently, but not proudly. What was most attractive was that he didn't seem at all aware of his own physical aesthetics – completely oblivious to the way all eyes followed him when he moved. That sort of humility, combined with physical beauty and the bravery that he'd shown when faced with her dragon…well, such a package didn't leave much to be desired.

"Would it be safe to say that Drogon liked him?" Tyrion said suggestively.

Daenerys shrugged. "As much as he could ever like anyone, I suppose," she mused.

"You have three dragons," Tyrion said slowly. "I know all of them are deeply important to you – they're your children. But would it be too much of a stretch to send one of them north?" He paused, and something that looked suspiciously like amusement glimmered in his green eyes. "If it's of any consequence to you, of course. We'll do just fine without Jon Snow," he said, looking at her knowingly over the rim of his cup. "His sister Sansa is a smart girl, and has the makings of a good leader. We would merely shift our attentions to negotiate with her."

The very idea of it filled her with rage, unexpected and illogical. She narrowed her eyes. "No," she said sharply. She hated that she could see the triumph in his eyes. "And don't try to manipulate me like that," she ordered. "Next time just come out and ask me how I feel about Jon Snow. No need to beat around the bush. I think we've passed that stage of our relationship."

Tyrion smiled, and raised his cup to her in supplication. "And if I were to ask you how you feel about Jon Snow, as you suggested, would you give me an honest answer?"

She raised her chin haughtily. "I would be very disappointed if I learned that he'd perished beyond the wall," she said with a sniff.

"Good," Tyrion said, reading into the meaning behind her words. "Because I may or may not have briefly discussed the idea of marriage with Ser Davos while you were rendezvousing with Drogon and the King in the North on a cliff." He took a long slurp of his wine, and continued before she could splutter out a response of any kind. "He seemed amenable to the idea. He didn't say anything to Snow, of course. He knows how to be subtle. He'll plant the seed and let the idea take root. Jon Snow is fiercely independent – much like you," he continued. "But that's a conversation for another time. Right now I'd like to suggest you send him some backup in the form of a very large fire-breathing dragon."

Daenerys glared at him, her heart pounding in her chest as images of Jon Snow doing less than appropriate things to her body rose unbidden in her mind. She shoved them aside to focus on the problem at hand. "I'll go to them and ask," she said through clenched teeth. "Although I'm not entirely sure how they might locate him if he's already north of the Wall."

"If whatever dragon you send can't find him, then he and his group are no worse off than they were before," Tyrion said dismissively. "If your dragon does find him, it might be the difference between life and death."

She chewed on her lip. Risking one of her children for the King of the North –

She stood abruptly. "I'll take Drogon, head north as fast as I can – "

"No, you absolutely will not," Tyrion said forcefully, standing to face her. "You're not going. It's too dangerous."

She fumed and stared him down. "I am the queen," she bit out.

"Right now you are a petulant child," he returned hotly. "Being queen doesn't mean you get to do whatever you want. You have a responsibility to your people – and right now that responsibility includes remaining alive and well." He tilted his head. "Don't be foolish. If I have to, I will risk life and limb to convince your own children to back me up on this."

Her jaw dropped, and she sat down and crossed her arms with a huff. When she realized that it did make her look petulant and childish, she frowned. "Fine," she said hotly. She could not argue with his logic.

"Another thing you and Jon Snow have in common," Tyrion muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. "Recklessness."

She clenched her teeth, and stood again, tired of hearing Jon Snow's name. She didn't want to think about him. It was too much for her brain to handle right now. Instead, she swept out of the room, ignoring Qhono and Hafik, who immediately fell into step behind her.

When she exited the castle, holding her coat more tightly around her body as the wind kicked up, she scanned the skies restlessly. Drogon was the first to come to her, as was usual. Rhaegal and Viserion followed at a leisurely pace, coming to rest behind their brother, looking at her with green and gold eyes.

She didn't even have to speak. Drogon gave a low rumble, and she laid a tender hand on his nose. "Be safe, please," she whispered. Then she looked into his red-orange eyes one last time and sucked in a nervous breath as he lifted off, climbing high into the sky. She shielded her eyes from the sun and tracked his movements, watching as he flew north until he was only a speck in the sky. When he disappeared from her sight, she sighed, and laid a hand on Viserion's head, chewing her lip thoughtfully. Rhaegal came to stand on her other side, and he pushed his emerald nose underneath her arm impatiently. She scratched him under the chin affectionately.

"Stay close to me," she whispered to them. "You help ease my fears." They did as she commanded, and she walked over to sit down on the cliff where she'd spoken with Jon Snow not four weeks before. She dangled her legs over the edge, and her sons stretched out on either side of her, laying their heads down on the rock.

Despite her efforts not to think about Jon Snow, he kept popping into her mind. She sighed, and contemplated marrying him.

She supposed it wouldn't be that bad. Out of all the lords in Westeros, he was probably the most bearable.

Likeable, her mind whispered insidiously. You fancy him.

She bared her teeth irritably and looked out over the sea. She had a lot of thinking to do.


I've grown used to him.

Jon swallowed. Looking out into the world of white before him, he pictured Daenerys in his mind's eye – fair, beautiful, powerful. A woman worthy of his respect.

A woman apparently worthy of his affection, as well – or so his traitorous brain kept telling him.

"So, this dragon queen," Tormund said gruffly from beside him, his voice quiet. "She hot?"

Thoros of Myr chuckled from behind them, and Jon stiffened, glancing back towards the rear and relaxing minutely when he realized Jorah Mormont hadn't heard.

"She's attractive, yes," he returned with a roll of his eyes. "Any other great matters of importance you wish to discuss?" he asked dryly.

"You fuck her?"

Jon reached out lightning fast and punched Tormund hard in the arm. "No, I didn't, and if anyone loyal to her heard you talking like that you'd be hauled off to become a dragon's snack," he hissed lowly. "Bite your tongue."

The redhead grunted and sniggered, and Jon rolled his eyes, feeling his mood sour. Daenerys Targaryen was the definition of unattainable. Besides – Ygritte still haunted his dreams at night.

At the end of the day, he didn't have time for women – alive or dead.

And as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to meet the blue stare of a dead man, he remembered the reason why.


Hurray – first chapter down.

This won't be super long. Just a handful of chapters. Trust me, I'm not going to abandon my other stories in favor of starting a new one that will end up being 200K words. That would be incredibly irresponsible.

Anyways, the next chapter will be up tomorrow. I'm struggling to not just overhaul what I've written so far, now that I know what's coming – but that would be boring, so I'm just going to disregard anything that happens after 7x05 and go in my own direction.

Please review if you feel so inclined!


Giraffe :)