Legacy of the Last Dragonlords

The Dragon Queen had never seen Jon so… uninhibited outside their bed. Cup overflowing with ale, soon he was quite tipsy, laughing with Davos, getting into an armwrestling contest with the Hound that he ended up winning, and singing bawdy wildling folk songs with Tormund and the other Free Folk. Daenerys should have been overjoyed, watching him with sparkling eyes with barely contained lust in her gaze…

Aegon Targaryen…

True heir to the Iron Throne…

Blood of my blood…

The words killed whatever happiness or relief could be felt. Dany sighed. The life of a ruler, each victory only meaning another struggle. Another impossible decision.

"TO JON SNOW AND THE DRAGON QUEEN!" boomed Tormund. How he was still walking after drinking so much, Daenerys didn't know. "Only a fuckin' insane motherfuckin' cunt would battle those assholes on a damn dragon! Or a motherfuckin' King and Queen!" Cheers rang out, though some only half-hearted. Would such cheers be unanimous for Jon alone? For her… nephew alone?

But polite she was. Toasts she did give, to Jon and Arya. To the wounded Lyanna Mormont, slayer of an undead giant. To the memory of thousands of dead.  At the first opportunity, Dany rose and ducked out. Leaving Tyrion with his brother. Leaving Missandei pulling a reluctant Grey Worm into a northern jig, both drunk. Leaving Jon to… immediately notice and follow. Even drunk, he was attuned with her. Daenerys would smile at it… if under the surface she wasn't about to break his heart.

There was nothing in the world that Dany wished less than to break the heart of the man she loved. But for Daenerys of House Targaryen, Dragon Queen, there seemed to be no other way.

Hearing him shut the door behind her, Dany just stared at the flames. The hearth crackling as she felt the strong arms wrap around her waist. Despite herself, the Queen melted in his hold. "Thank you for coming." Her voice was colder than she intended - but Daenerys couldn't help the swirling emotions within, threatening to consume her.

Good, introverted man that he was, Jon didn't comment on it. "I was so afraid, Daenerys." 'Daenerys,' not 'Dany.' He hadn't called her Dany since Samwell told him of his blood. Their blood. No matter the love around her formal name, it still felt icy. Devoid of affection. "I almost lost you."

Daenerys felt a tear prick her eyelid. "We… we did not lose each other, Jon. We lived… others died, but we lived."

"I'm sorry about Ser Jorah." Dany turned in his arms, facing him. The sorrow in his grey eyes was genuine. He couldn't hide anything, not with her. "I owe him everything for protecting you, and yet I cannot pay him back."

"He wouldn't have collected on that obligation, Jon. Jorah… he was one of the few who I could trust with the real me. Him, Ser Barristan, my former handmaidens, and even my brother…" She closed her eyes, only opening them when she felt his hands stroking her sides. "All are gone. All except Missandei… and you."

Jon blinked, looking as if he wanted to kiss her… but refraining. "I don't know about Missandei, but you have me, Daenerys. I made that promise."

Jon Snow was a man of honor who would keep his promises. But still… "Jorah loved me. Loved me like a man would a woman." Dany looked away, not wanting to see his reaction. "But I couldn't love him like that…" She looked back to him, cupping his cheek. Letting his prickly stubble ghost against her palm. "Not like how I love you…"

No longer refraining, Jon closed the distance between them. Their lips meeting. Hands weaving into her hair, tugging at the braids while his tongue demanded entrance. What she was about to do… Daenerys knew this would only add to the hurt. But, she was weak. Her love, her desire for him was so strong. Dany's mouth opened, inviting him in. Losing herself in his passion.

For her, the moments passed by as a delirious dream. Clothes being stripped off with a frantic reverence. Jon insistent but soft, exploring each strip of skin bared to him with his hands, lips, and tongue. Dany hitched her breath, almost bursting into tears as he worshipped her breasts. Her legs gave way, falling against the cold stone of the castle walls when her beautiful white wolf dropped to his knees - tongue snaking into her wet core. She dug her hands in his wild curls.

Several minutes of sheer bliss later, they had tumbled onto the bed. Both as naked as their name day. His hands all over her. Her hands digging into his back, leaving red lines. Jon Snow was the perfect lover. Passionate but gentle. Hungry but loving. Utterly ravenous but reverently adoring. So deep inside her, Daenerys gasped into his mouth as he hit spots only he could ever reach. Left her a moaning mess. Coaxing sounds out of the Mother of Dragons only before screamed by wanton whores.

He ruined her for any other lover. Taking her over the edge, her climax as much of a rush as any ride upon Drogon…

Blood of the dragon.

Jon, her beloved, was a dragon - just like her. In such a sense, it was perfect. Their love almost fate. Wonderful, tragic fate.

There they rested, side by side, breathing hot against the other's skin. Pressed into the crook of his shoulder, Dany inhaled every bit of his scent - committing it to memory. It hurt. Hurt more than she knew, but she selfishly took the one last bit of him that she could. "You are the true King." Her voice was but a whisper. "Aegon."

He stiffened, pulling back to cup her cheek. Stare into her eyes with his beautiful greys. "I don't want it." His thumb stroked her skin, and damn it all, she nearly moaned at how wonderful it felt. "You are a Queen… My Queen."

"It's not that simple." She bit her lip, hating how vulnerable she felt. "Your Lords, your sister. They will want you on the throne, find some way…"

"They wouldn't if I tell them not to."

"You may be sucked into events you do not wish to be a part of. It's the story of our family. Your family."

There was silence. A look of pensive contemplation on Jon's handsome face. Dany resisted the urge to kiss him again. "Marry me," he blurted.

She blinked, tears in her eyes. "Marry?"

"Aye," he nodded, certain. "Fuck what they say. Marry me, Daenerys Targaryen. Unite our claims. You will be the greatest Queen in the history of Westeros, and I will rule by your side if it means being by your side."

Oh, Jon. So selfless. It was one of the reasons she loved him desperately. But it wasn't to be. "Jon…" In one instant his heart was shattered, and hers was shattered by such. "I cannot have children."

"That cunt was lying," he snarled.

While normally his conviction made her swell with love, Dany… just couldn't. "It's true, Jon. My line dies with me. But you are the Last Dragon. You can marry and restore House Targaryen." She grabbed his face, eyes wide and frantic. "Do this, Jon. Forget me, and do your duty for our family."

Jon looked at her as if she spouted two heads. "All my life, I have fought according to the duty others have imposed on me. But now, with the Long Night gone I can see clearly for the first time. You are my duty, Dany. I don't fucking care about anything else." He received no answer. "Are you seriously considering this?"

"I don't want to!" she told him fiercely, close to tears. "But it has to be done."

"No." He would not bend. "I swore before the weirwood that I would hold no lands and father no children. I would only break that promise for you." She closed her eyes, his words both loving and painful. "If I can't have you, then I will have lost nothing more than what I was already prepared to."

And her eyes opened, love and desire gone. Replaced with an iron determination. A burning, simmering anger. "If you won't do right by our House, Jon Snow, then I will."

Her harsh tone seemed to wound him. "Dany…"

"Leave me, Lord Snow." Rising, Daenerys grabbed her bedsheet, wrapping it around her body. "I will reclaim the throne for House Targaryen. Unlike you, I know the duty I have to our family legacy. I am not a selfish fool chasing after impossible dreams." Love had brought her nothing but pain. But death. Only through fire and blood had she secured victory for herself, her house, and her people.

Without another word, Jon rose himself. Quickly but not hurriedly donning his clothes as best he could. When he finally spoke, all warmth - all affection gone from the northern brogue she loved so much - had frozen into the icy nothingness of his wolfsblood. "Your Grace," he bowed, leaving the room.

Leaving her...

Laying in the black cells, it was all Daenerys could think about. The memory played itself out in her mind over and over again. Torturing her. Shattering her more than Cersei's degradations ever could. Tears poured from her eyes, the mighty Dragon Queen destroyed by her own obsession and mindless oaths.

Love is the death of duty… duty is the death of love.

Ned Stark, destroyed by a useless oath.

Jon, exiled to the far corners of the earth by a useless oath.

Herself, giving up the man she loved more than life itself by a useless oath.

By a useless duty, the last memory Jon had of them being her breaking his heart. Daenerys hated herself. Hated what she had become. All for that worthless iron chair forged by Aegon to Conqueror as the symbol of the wheel he created. The wheel Daenerys wished to destroy…

I would give it all up to feel his touch again.

And clutching her belly, fingers running along the ever so slight swell of their child, only one thing remained in her mind.

All for nothing.

She had destroyed Jon, destroyed herself, all for nothing. And that was the greatest pain of all.

The halls of Dragonstone felt so familiar, yet so different at the same time. Direwolf companion trotting next to him, Davos Seaworth had arrived yet again, only to see something resembling a crypt. Given what Tyrion told me… what Varys told me… only hightens that. As the Unsullied guards threw open the door to the monarch's chambers, the acting Hand knew a lot rested on his aging shoulders.

Immediately, the direwolf made a beeline for his master. "Ghost!" Jon's sullen, brooding exterior vanished with a bright smile at the sight of his direwolf as the beast nearly knocked him over from excitement. "Missed you, ya' big furball." Davos smiled himself while Jon began rubbing Ghost's fur, the direwolf's tail wagging. Ya can tell a man's goodness and honor by how he treats his animals.

Daenerys had loved Ghost, and her dragons. Such a fact wasn't lost on Davos.

Clearing his throat, Davos watched as Jon looked up from his faithful companion, sudden joy falling as the new Hand conveyed his concerns with just a look. "Ghost, bed," he commanded. The direwolf, whimpering at Jon, nevertheless complied - sensing the tension. "I'm glad to see you, Davos."

"You look like pickled shit, Jon," replied the Onion Knight, coaxing a snort from the younger man. "Let me just say, from what I heard about Daenerys… I'm sorry." To see Jon in such agony… if there was one person on this earth that didn't deserve pain, it was him. "But to find out that I have been named acting Hand by you, and to be bombarded by Varys about 'taking advantage of this great opportunity' makes me wonder what the fuck is going on?"

Sighing, Jon motioned for Davos to take a seat. "I would swear you to secrecy, but there is no fucking point anymore." Everyone already knows. "Do not say anything till I finish…"

As each new bit of information was told to him, the further and further did Davos collapse into complete speechlessness. The depths of Ned Stark's elaborate deception of the entire known world took every word out of him. By the end, he was gaping like a fish, eyes wide and staring at Jon as if he was a whole new person. A look of stunned wonder, of… awe.

Jon felt uncomfortable at the gaze. His most… hells, his only trusted advisor, their familiarity fraying before him. "Davos… say something."

"This explains it, now." He let out a dry half-cough, half-laugh. "Riding a dragon, your connection with the Dragon Queen… dear Gods, Jon. You're the rightful King!"

"No!" Jon shook his head. "No I'm not, Daenerys is! I never wanted this, Davos." He stood, walking to the window. "Varys thinks I should throw Dany to the lions and take control… but as a wolf in dragon's clothing. I believe Tyrion thinks the same."

So that's what the eunuch was simpering about. "Anyone say differently?"

"Missandei. She wants me to keep my trust in Dany…" Jon clenched his fist, anguish on his pale face. "I love her, Davos. Gods… I love Daenerys, my aunt."

"You're a Targaryen, it's in the blood." Davos shrugged. "I've been married to my wife for decades, but I've never seen a couple so devoted and loving that you and the Queen." Thinking of what Varys and Tyrion said, Davos saw only chaos and conflict arising out of either asserting their claim independent of the other. Both for the world… and for Jon and Daenerys themselves. Am I the only one who cares about them? "You have to take the throne together."

Resting his head upon the stone wall, the wounds left by his brothers ached. A burning, unbearable ache - as if his entire soul was aflame. "It's not that simple, Davos. So many would dissent..."

"Both of you ride dragons. That tends to make dissent disappear." His attempt at a humorous truth did not break Jon's walls. Jon's walls. His bastard armor... Perhaps that is what's holding him back. "You are a dragon, Jon. Blood of the wolf, but a trueborn dragon."

A laughter rang out from Jon, low and heavy… not reaching his eyes. "The lowly Bastard of Winterfell, hated and reviled by all. First he's promised to kill the Night King, and now he is the fucking King!"

"Well you're not a bastard!" Davos replied, forcefully. "All you had holding you back, Jon, was that inferiority complex that damn last name gave you, and it's gone now. You are Aegon Targaryen! You're free of all of that fucking armor!"

"And what would I have without that armor? Madness. Fire? Deaths of thousands on my hands?" Although he hated to say it, Varys' constant haranguing did have an effect. He slumped his shoulders. "I have no name, no family. All that's left is honor, and what does it get me? Betrayed and forced to watch as my beloved is being held by the most rancid bitch in the Seven Kingdoms."

Fuck, it's worse than dealin' with Stannis and Steffon when they won't eat their supper. "Your Grace, you talk of your honor, and I respect that. Few people left in this shite world that still have it, but by the gods, there's a time and a place for everything."

"What am I without honor, Davos?" Jon braced himself against the lip above the hearth. Staring aimlessly at the blood-red three-headed dragon banner of his lover. Of his house. "I cannot fall into the same traps as my father and brother, but what kind of man would I be if I didn't show honor?"

"Alive!" He took a deep breath, calming himself. "You'd be alive. Do ya' think honor was how the Kings of Winter responded when Royce Bolton burned Winterfell. No, they fuckin' took it back and gave the Red King's heir the bloody eagle." Shireen's teachings had ignited a fire in him, Davos struggling and striving to learn as much history as possible. "House Stark built itself on ruthlessness, Jon. As a ruler… as a King, you need to show honor but also strength."

A sad smile appeared on Jon's face. "And I have shown neither. I betrayed Daenerys, over and over again. I failed to keep my promise to her. I failed to love her. Failed to even show any connection with our shared blood. Failed to keep the secret…" He did not know why Sansa told Tyrion, but the betrayal stung all the same. "Failed to prevent those that are supposed to advise the rightful ruler from betraying Daenerys." He covered his face in his hands, not seeing Davos' anger reach the boiling point. "I am not worthy. I will never be worthy…"

"Your mother's sigil is a wolf!" Davos thundered suddenly. "Your father's a dragon! YOU. ARE. BOTH! A Dragonwolf!" He could see the words getting through to the boy. Piercing that damned bastard armor. "People are gonna tell you who to be to be a good ruler. Fuck. Em. Embrace what you truly are! The mix of two vicious bloodlines! Bloodlines that answer to neither gods nor men!"

"What would you have me do?!" Jon yelled back. Backed into a corner, pounded over and over again by the man he saw as a surrogate father - his most trusted advisor - Jon felt his finely honed control slipping away. Just as he found when learning of Dany's capture. "I don't know how to be a fucking Targaryen! I barely know how to be a Stark!" Always, the half-breed bastard of Eddard Stark. Beaten into him for so long. "All I know is being a bastard..."

He was cut off when Davos grabbed Jon by the shoulders and shook him violently. "Well then wake the fuck up, ya' dumb cunt bastard!" A slap rang out, handprint forming on Jon's cheek.

Jon gaped, shocked beyond belief that the loyal Onion Knight actually laid a hand on him.

That did not faze Davos. "Would you rather cower as those who seek to destroy you, and those whom you hold dear - whom you love?!" The boy loved the Queen. He could see it as plain as day, and here he sulked while she was only one step away from death? Davos couldn't tolerate it. "Will you let them do as they please? Or...will you strike back with a fury that makes the Seven Kingdoms tremble?!"

There was a distinct, tense silence. Both men staring at each other, waiting for someone to say something… anything. "I…" Jon finally croaked, overwhelmed with emotion. "I would die for her, Davos… I would…"

Davos' gaze softened. Seeing not an ungrateful ingrate as with many of the highborn lords and ladies, but a tortured soul in need of a guiding hand. A man he saw as close to a son. "I know, lad, but you shouldn't. Ya' need to live for her."

Both were interrupted - knocked from their intense conversation - by a knock at the door. "Come in," Jon croaked, taking a swig of watered wine. Even diluted, it burned his throat.

Door opening, Varys revealed himself. Davos noticed Jon eyeing him warily. Not that the Onion Knight blamed him. "Lord Varys," he offered.

If Varys saw through Davos' duplicity, it did not register on his fleshy face. "Lord Seaworth," he responded. "Glad to see his Grace and the Hand in the same room."

Jon looked annoyed. "I am not…"

"State your business, Lord Varys," Davos blurted, interrupting Jon with crossed arms. Daenerys being Queen doesn't preclude Jon from being King. Was he the only person in this entire damn world who realized that? Is the Realm filled with idiots?

Twinkling eyes flickered from Davos to Jon, and then back again. "Raven from King's Landing. A request from Lord Qyburn, Cersei's Hand." Jon's eyes widened while Davos narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "She requests a parlay in front of the Gate of the Gods. I believe that it is unwise to appear."

Jon stepped forward. "Why is that?"

"There is no point. Cersei will not see reason, notwithstanding anything Tyrion might say. For his family, he has been an… optimist." The eunuch's face seemed flat, but Davos swore he saw the ghost of a smirk. "Jaime Lannister has been spotted in the Red Keep, if my birds are to be believed."

Eyes wide, Jon's fists clenched. "That son of a bitch… I should burn the entire Red Keep…" Jon stopped himself, suddenly reminded Dany resided in the cells. Gods...

"Give me that," the Onion Knight stated, snatching the report from Varys. "Let me read the bloody thing myself." If he was going to give Jon proper advice, never rely on the second hand reports of others if he could help it - especially for obvious manipulations.

"Perhaps I should read it to you…"

A shake of the head ended that. "I can read, Varys." The fancy loops and curves of Qyburn's penmanship was hard to decipher, but Davos made due.

Peering, oftentimes finding himself mouthing the words, halfway he began to feel a cold set through his veins. By the end, he was pale. "Well?" Jon watched expectantly. "Tell me, Davos…" The worried, beaten voice the true King gave off was music to Varys' ears.

And pain to Davos'. If anything will snap him out of it, this is it. "Cersei says that she will be bringing a guest from the Black Cells." It was like watching something inside Jon snap, revealing a half broken, half enraged soul watching them. Varys you little shit. Davos saw clearly what the eunuch meant. "'If you don't show up, then there will be an execution. Show up, and there might not be.'"

"Your Grace…"

But Jon didn't even entertain Varys, brushing past the both of them. Grabbing Longclaw off the ironwood dresser as he left the room.

Over half a dozen ballistae were mounted around the Gate of the Gods, Maegor Targaryen's intricate bas reliefs of the old gods of Valyria staring down at the gathered party of the new Targaryen monarch. Joined by Queen Cersei Lannister and her retinue atop the gatehouse.

Many luminaries serving Queen Daenerys Targaryen had arrived from Dragonstone by boat, but only one figure approached the opening gate to treat with Cersei's Hand. The balding, unassuming figure of Davos Seaworth. "Greetings, and welcome to the Gate of the Gods," Qyburn stated, extending his hand. Taking note of Davos' reluctance. "Please, I don't bite." Narrowing his eyes, Davos nevertheless took the man's proffered hand. "I am Qyburn, Hand to her Grace Cersei Lannister."

"Wouldn't wish such a job on anyone," Davos replied gruffly. "We all know what happened to your predecessors in the title."

A soft chuckle left Qyburn. "Well, I certainly admire your bluntness, Lord…"

The Onion Knight cleared his throat. "Davos, of House Seaworth. Acting Hand to her Grace Daenerys Targaryen. Rightful Queen of Westeros." If all goes as I hope, she will be.

"Aren't you the man who counseled Stannis?" Both hands glanced up to see Cersei, staring down at them. Golden hair glinting in the sun. Her smirk looked half triumphant - dripping with arrogance - and half contemptuous. "I knew my late goodbrother kept the company of a former smuggler."

Looking up, eyes squinting in the noonday sun, Davos shielded them with his palm. "Aye, in another life, Lady Lannister." A not so subtle dig, one he was proud of.

Cersei was not amused. "Where is the Stark Bastard?"

"He'll be here momentarily," Davos replied, hoping that Jon wouldn't embarrass him by taking too long.

Hopes and wishes did sometimes come true. They did now.

A roar echoed over the flood plain, drawing frightened eyes and craning necks ever skyward. The nightmare of many a Lannister passed overhead. The great, green dragon, raised from infancy by his mother, devoid of the connection so craved by a Valyrian dragon. Until he had met his rider, currently atop his back. Clutched tightly to the spines of Rhaegal's neck. Still unused to the art of travel dragonback… but getting better.

Cersei, instinct to gape in fear pushed as far back as she could, merely glared in anger. Euron was already in action, directing the large ballistae to direct their aim upon the dragon - now settling to the ground hundreds of feet beyond the cluster of Unsullied and Targaryen advisors.

But it was Westerlands bannermen that operated the ballistae, not that of the Golden Company or Ironborn. Men still holding honor dearly. No one violated a truce.

Qyburn, to his credit, seemed only intrigued. "Your Queen's paramour has quite the flair about him. Odd... for a Stark." His eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Aye, he does." Davos eyed the disgraced maester warily. He knew too much, but clearly kept many things close to his chest. "House Stark didn't rise to power on honor alone."

"Very true." A smile formed on his face, one Davos found seemingly genuine. Also odd.

Jon was dressed head to toe in Stark colors. Head pulled back in a bun, direwolf emblazoned on his gorget and black leather cuirass. Thick trousers and leather boots completed the outfit, Longclaw displayed prominently on his hip, he looked like the northern lord he had for so long aspired to be.

Varys looked proud. Missandei shook her head in disappointment, while Tyrion did not know what to think. Two Unsullied guards took the place behind their leader, shock still and ready to bring their shields up to protect him from arrows if need be. Just as they would with Daenerys.

Pursing his lips, Qyburn nodded to Davos. "So, now that he is here, we may begin. You are a smart man, Lord Seaworth… you must know the position you are in."

"Aye, I do." Frankly, if not for their Queen - Jon's lady love - being imprisoned within the city, he'd have liked their chances far better than even when Stannis attacked the city years before. "Surrounded on all sides. Dependent on mercenaries and pirates? Not a good position, Lord Qyburn."

"We outnumber you. Even with the Reach and Dornish reinforcements." The flicker of surprise on Davos' face lasted but a moment, but Qyburn could pick it up. "Ah yes, I do know about that. One hundred war elephants are worth more than all of those, and our men are battle-hardened veterans."

Unable to help himself, Davos laughed. "Battle-hardened? Our men faced death itself, Qyburn. Plus, you forget one thing." Feeling a bit cheeky, Davos pointed behind him. Past the cluster of advisors and soldiers around Jon. "See that." Rhaegal rested on his front claws, amber eyes flickered between his rider and the men that caused his mother's pain. "That is a dragon. He misses his momma." His eyes flickered to Cersei. Speaking loudly so she could hear him. "When walking in the woods, you never approach a bear cub. Cause the momma bear will fuckin' kill you. Well, dragons are the exact opposite. Approach the momma, and the cub will fuckin' kill you. And we have two." Poppa dragon… Poppa wolf will also fuckin' kill you.

Qyburn arched an eyebrow. "Are you threatening the entire city, Lord Davos?"

"No, just giving your queen the consequences of not seeing reason."

There was a terse silence. Two sides staring each other down, waiting to see who would blink. Oddly, it was Missandei who broke it. "How do we know you have the Queen? We have not seen her."

Smirking, Cersei turned to Euron. "Bring her out." The hulking Ironborn grinned like a madman and disappeared - only to emerge with a wriggling, hooded figure in his arms. A tug of the hood over the bundle's head revealed Daenerys. Hair in tangles, gag over her face, eyes wide with fear… until they settled on the lone northerner. Jon…

Jon felt his breath hitch. Dany...The first time either had laid eyes upon the other since Daenerys had left Winterfell. Then, both were so hurt and angry. Now… all had changed.

"Satisfied?"

Looking at Dany, locking eyes with her, Jon gulped and stepped forward. "There need not be a battle, Cersei." Cersei. Not 'Your Grace. Not even 'Lady Lannister.' Davos was impressed at his balls. "Send your champion to fight me. Whomever wins, gets to dictate the terms to the other." He cocked his head, hiding his fear well. "I offered the same to Ramsay Bolton. He refused, and now his bones rot in the ground after his dogs ate him. Wouldn't you rather gamble with a game you can win?"

Gods, he is a true king. Daenerys hoped Jon could see how much she loved him. How proud she was to call him her king and her beloved. "You think you scare me, bastard!" Cersei snarled beside her. Face contorted in indignation and rage. "Compare me to some half-blooded northern scum? I am a pureblood Lannister of Casterly Rock!"

But suddenly, the rage disappeared. Snarl transforming into the darkest of smirks. One Daenerys remembered vividly. The same look on Viserys' face. The one she dreamed her father would make. The one worn by the Night King.

Perfectly manicured nails running against Dany's bare shoulder, tracing the skin, Cersei chuckled. "Such a beautiful woman, Jon Snow," she said, loud enough for Jon to hear. Taking a knife from Euron, the flat surface of the blade skimmed her neck. "The great Mother of Dragons, now fallen to nothing." Daenerys wriggled against her binds and gag. Trying to angle her stomach away from the Lannister Queen. Cersei's sneer only widened. "I could kill her easily…"

"NO!" The true King took a step forward. No… please don't… "Let her go, Cersei, please…"

"Your Grace," Varys warned, only to be shushed by a finger to the lips from Tyrion and a glare from Missandei.

Shifting on his feet, Davos broke away from Qyburn, taking several paces towards the gate before several crossbowmen took aim at him. "You have no use to kill her, Lady Lannister." He wasn't about to let Jon's beloved die. "You have your family. You have your life. Accept Jon Snow's generous offer, and you shall have the entire Westerlands to raise your child in peace."

Cersei laughed again. "Only a fool would believe I'd give up the throne I earned." She put the knife back to Dany's throat. "Perhaps I should kill her right now." An amused glint - one of malevolent madness - crossed her eyes. The knife shifting to Daenerys' stomach. "Or perhaps your unborn child, bastard!"

Nearly choking, the swallow of spit down Tyrion's throat turned into a sputter of coughs. The queen is pregnant? Oh, this was not good at all. A quick look to Varys found a flicker of fear on his face - a longer look at Jon finding what he had most feared. The true King looked as if a crossbow bolt slammed into his chest.

"Shall I kill both of them, bastard?" Cersei called out, knife still in hand. "Or shall I have Ser Gregor do the honors?"

The dragonwolf couldn't speak… couldn't react. He had obviously never expected this. One look at Daenerys proved the truth… a far worse eventuality than if Cersei had lied - much as Jon hated himself for thinking such.

A babe. Dany is pregnant. I… I'm a father… It was as if thousands of wights had swarmed him, rotted hands ripping him apart. Seeing his beloved… his child, in the clutches of the monster of House Lannister. Even from here, he could see the pain in Daenerys' eyes. The sadness. The pleading in her gaze to forgive her for allowing this to happen.

My love… my child… It was rather he who deserved to suffer for this.

All of this could be seen by Tyrion. Watching as the honorable 'son' of Ned Stark lost all pretenses. Lost his armor, the second skin worn to shield him from the pain the world would inflict on an honorable man. On a bastard. He remembered what Varys had told him Ned Stark said, while in the black cells, when faced with the choice to live or die.

"You think my life is such a precious thing to me, that I would trade my honor for a few more years... of what?"

Jon Snow… Aegon Targaryen was similar, only different at the same time. Honor was fungible for a true Targaryen, the way it wasn't for Ned Stark. But not passion. Not love. Not the fire of desire. Such drove a dragon forward.

And Jon Snow was the hidden dragon.

Oh sister, you have made a terrible miscalculation...

Staggering himself, Davos looked at Qyburn. "Is it true?"

Qyburn only nodded. "Aye. Her Grace is with child."

Looking back at Jon, Davos could sense what the lad was going through. He was a father himself, and if anyone threatened his children… I'd burn them all… Taking several further steps, he prayed the crossbowmen wouldn't kill him outright. "Your Grace…" No more games. An innocent child was involved. "You don't want this to happen. Think of your unborn child… Please, see reason." Davos' last plea fell on deaf ears. There was no going back for Cersei Lannister.

Her breath tickling her ear, smug madness apparent even without gazing upon her, Dany heard Cersei whisper the sickly sweet words. "If you have something to say to your bastard lover, now is the time."

Gag pushed down, Daenerys' violet eyes fell upon Jon. Dozens of different thoughts coursed through her mind. In that moment, she hated Cersei - the rage burned hotter than even her dragons could create. I didn't want him to know like this. Never like this. Dany wished that she could have told Jon about their child while naked and in bed, bodies flush in a tangle of limbs.

She took it away from me. From us. The babe was nothing more than a pawn for Cersei to torture the both of them and she loathed the lioness for it. Her mouth opened, then closed. Wanting to tell Jon to burn the Red Keep to the ground. To kill all that stood against them. "Jon…"

Across the plain, staring at the Gate of the Gods, Jon took a step forward. Dany…

In all Daenerys' hate, in all her anger… only one thought bubbled to the surface. She didn't care. Only wanted him to know. "I LOVE YOU...!" Only to be cut off by the gag placed back over her mouth.

Time stood still for Jon. He rocked back, as if Olly had stabbed him all over again. I love you. Despite everything. Her fears, his rejection, their shared anger over their duty, how easily he had broken his promise… none mattered. She loves me.

"Love." Cersei snorted in derision. "Only the weak love. Ser Gregor."

Unsheathing his greatsword, the Mountain that Rode raised the massive weapon as if it were a twig. Waiting, as if sensing the Queen's wishes. Davos gasped, Tyrion nearly fainted, Missandei clasped her hands over her mouth, and Varys pursed his lips. Waiting for the northern bastard before them to take it all in. And Rhaegal's roar shook the very city as the blade approached Daenerys' bared neck…

Only to stop, hovering mere inches from the Dragon Queen. Daenerys almost feeling the cold steel singe her neck. "Next time, Ser Gregor won't hold back," Cersei called out over the floodplain. "Consider it a warning." And at a jerk of her hand, the Kingsguard hauled the gagged Daenerys away. The last flicker of her violet eyes before she disappeared into the gatehouse being locked with Jon's.

Heart thumping, pain and devastation written on his face, Jon turned. Running a hand through his hair. Drifting down his face. Clutching his heart. Their baby… the beloved moment he had hoped and prayed for the entire journey to White Harbor, defiled and polluted by Cersei Lannister. All walls and armor around him finally crumbled into dust. Leaving a raw, tortured soul bare to the elements. Wordlessly, he grabbed his head in a silent scream.

Thousands of emotions twitched over his expression, the Warden of the North almost staggering the few steps back towards the Unsullied guards. Passing Varys, stone faced but with a concern in his eyes. Past Missandei, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. Provide the comfort of a friend to the man her Queen loved…

But Jon shrugged it off. Terror and brooding sadness suddenly gone. Replaced by something that made Missandei step back. Grey eyes darkened to blackness, now a ring of violet tinged the outside. His lips hardened. Back ramrod straight, shoulders trembling with a simmering heat. He stormed past the Unsullied towards the green dragon beyond. The wolf unleashed from its tether…

No, not a wolf. A dragon.

A Targaryen.

Eyes shifting between the players, Tyrion knew the time since his Queen had said her fateful words had been only a minute or so. A single minute where everything changed. Where a man at the edge of himself, torn between two worlds, finally decided. All bastard armor holding him back swept away. Beside him, Missandei - beneath the fear for Daenerys - looked pleased. And across from him, the Spider's carefully guarded expression still radiated disappointment.

A sigh left Tyrion's lips. "Oh sister," he breathed, only for himself to hear. "I fear you have only woken a sleeping dragon… and filled him with a terrible resolve." In the distance, Rhaegal roared as he took off into the air, Jon atop the dragon's back.