Jon and Daenerys on the boat just before 7x07 begins. Because who doesn't love boat scene? Began as a one-shot, but now may continue for a few loosely related scenes.


Jon swore softly to himself as the swaying of the ship caused him to once again lose his grip on the buckles of his breastplate. Usually a rapid task, strapping himself into his armor was taking twice as long as usual thanks to a lingering exhaustion and chill that still hadn't quite left his bones. A knock on the door made him look up. Daenerys stood in the open doorway, dressed all in black, her hair glittering in contrast.

"My queen," Jon greeted her and then bowed his head and struggled to finish up dressing.

Daenerys slipped into the tiny cabin. "The captain informed me we'll be at King's Landing soon," Daenerys said.

"I know," Jon replied. "I'm nearly ready." He bit back another oath as the buckle once again failed to catch. He did not normally swear, but the prospect of the upcoming meetings had him on edge.

"Let me," Daenerys said.

She took over coaxing the leather strap through the buckle and tightening it. Surprised, Jon let her and tried not to breathe in the scent of her hair so tantalizingly close.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "The straps are still stiff from the water." He stifled a hiss as Daenerys cinched the breastplate tighter against his bruised ribs. "In truth, so am I."

Finished with the breastplate, Daenerys began expertly lacing on Jon's left wrist guard. "You've done this before," Jon noticed in order to distract himself from Daenerys's small hands traveling over his arm.

"I used to help my husband, Drogo, though he never wore anything like this," Daenerys said while reaching for the other wrist guard. "Daario's armor was more similar."

Jon saw a faint blush staining his queen's pale cheeks and decided he didn't want to know what this Daario was to her. "I'm not used to it. Someone helping me, I mean."

Daenerys glanced up at him. "Did they not have servants at Winterfell?"

"They did, but I'm a bastard," Jon explained, finding that at some point he'd stopped feeling the sting of that word so keenly. "Lady Catelyn always made it clear where my place was. And the men of the Wall take care of themselves mostly."

Daenerys finished the last buckle. "Ready for battle. You know this is a diplomatic mission," Daenerys commented as she stepped back.

"I never go anywhere without my armor. And I'm not much good at diplomacy," Jon responded, reaching for Longclaw.

Daenerys focused her eyes on the portion of John's chest where Ollie had stabbed him. "A dagger through the heart, Ser Davos said."

Jon realized, suddenly, that she'd seen all of his worst scars. "A time I didn't wear my armor," he said in answer to her unspoken question.

"How did you survive that?" Daenerys asked in wonder.

"I didn't," Jon said simply.

"Tell me," Daenerys commanded.

Jon sighed. There was no point in keeping it secret any longer. "I saved the Free Folk at Hardhome and brought them past the Wall. Some men of the Night's Watch took exception to that and killed me for it. Melisandre, a priestess of the Lord of Light, brought me back. I don't know how. "

Daenerys gazed into his eyes. "And so you live." Jon looked back at her in silence, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.

The mournful cry of a dragon broke their reverie. Daenerys turned towards the small window. "Rhaegal," she identified the dragon. "He still mourns for his brother."

Thinking of Robb and Rickon, Jon replied, "I know how he feels."

Daenerys cupped his face in her hand and pulled him towards her. And then she was kissing him, her hands tangled in his hair. Jon slid his hands down her back and pulled her close. The ship jerked suddenly sending him stumbling backwards the bed. Daenerys landed in his lap, but didn't stop the kiss. Barely daring to breathe, Jon skimmed his hand over the swell of her breast and wondered what her skin felt like beneath the thick layer of fabric. Daenerys ran her hands down his chest, but he couldn't feel it thanks to the armor, which he very much wished he wasn't wearing right now. Just as he wondering if he dared take something off or, more specifically, dared take something off of Daenerys, Jon heard someone clear their throat loudly.

Daenerys quickly disengaged and slid gracefully off of Jon's lap. Rising, she turned to face Lord Tyrion who was standing in the doorway and pointedly not looking at Jon.

"The ship has arrived at King's Landing, Your Grace," Tyrion told her.

Daenerys looked not at all perturbed that Tyrion had found them in a compromising situation. "Thank you. I'll be up right way," she said and swept towards the door, not looking at Jon.

Blood pounding in his ears, Jon tried to convince his body to calm down.

"Coming?" Tyrion asked and quirked a sardonic eyebrow at Jon.

He stood up and faced Tyrion. "Into the Lion's den," he said, pretending that it was perfectly normal to be caught kissing the queen.

"Indeed," Tyrion said. And they all went up to the deck.