One-shot of how, when Dany and Jon meet, she has a hair fetish and is conflicted about how she feels about him.

Or, I just love Kit Harington's hair, so...

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The winds howl as Dany gets off Drogon. It is too cold for her Dothraki garb, and she feels the loss immediately after she gets off her dragon. Snow is falling, and although she's seen it from Drogon's back, she stands transfixed for a moment until she realizes- it's cold.

Ser Barristan wraps her in a cloak, and she thanks him. There are men surrounding her, swords drawn, as she surveys the area. They are all dressed in black, and their faces seem to be torn between permanent scowls and expressions of wonder.

There is a shift in the crowd of men, small as they are, as another man moves forward to greet her.

Daenerys has never seen hair like this, dark and curly and hanging in the man's face when the wind is not whipping it around. He is somber too, but keeps his sword at his back, although his right hand opens and closes in anticipation.

Finally, he speaks, "I am Lord Commander Jon Snow of the Night's Watch. What are your reasons for visiting the wall, your Grace?"

He's heard of her. Dany is surprised, and flustered. Of all the seven kingdoms she has conquered, the North has been the most indifferent to her.

She recovers quickly, though. "I would have a word, Lord Snow."

He nods, jerkily, and turns. His curls shine black against the snowy landscape, and Dany realizes he wants her to follow him.

Color rising in her cheeks, she follows him angrily.

He leads her to a tower, and she is flanked by Ser Barristan and Jorah, while his men keep a wary eye on her. It's been ages since Stannis left the wall to fight Dany, and she supposes that some of them still wish for him to have won the war.

Jorah whispers, "I thought my father was Lord Commander. He had years left. What happened?"

Dany doesn't know. She simply wanted to see the Wall on her journey in the North. It is summer, nearly, and she wants to know where Stannis hid his army for the winter. She wants to know why these men hid him.

When they catch up to Lord Snow, he is standing by the fire. It calms Dany, knowing that this cold man has a fire in his solar. Then he looks up, not at her but at Jorah.

"Your father died a few years past. I was his steward, and was elected after him. He gave me this."

Lord Snow taps his sword, and Jorah's eyes are hurt. He recovers quickly.

Dany looks at him carefully, his grey eyes, his dark curls, his build. She is still assessing him when Jorah retorts, "Well, you must be Ned Stark's bastard, then."

Lord Snow freezes, and casts a quick look at Daenerys. She has stopped moving as well, because she swore that she would kill Ned Stark, and failing that, any offspring. She was a child then, a girl of one and ten, but Viserys had looked so proud at her statement that it became a real promise.

She knows the moment he sees it in her eyes, that she has wished him dead before they even met. He stares her down until one of his curls fall into his eyes, and Dany snaps, "We came to see the wall and ask questions about the White Walkers, Jorah, not spill more blood."

Ser Jorah fumes at Lord Snow but lets it go.

"Now," Dany says, smiling enticingly, as if it will make up for any bad blood, "Please, take me to the top of your wall."

She grabs his arm and inserts hers into it. Lord Snow looks surprised, but then covers it up.

"As you wish, your Grace."

For a moment, she wants to touch his hair, to see if it is as soft as it looks, but clenches her fist instead.

He is a quiet one. As he takes her up in the lift, she provides all the conversation, and he watches warily, as if she will command her dragons to burn him.

He is cold, this northman, from his icy skin to the beard catching snowflakes to his eyes, so cold and unwavering from Dany's when she talks. Still, she finds herself watching him as well, his pretty face, too nicely featured for this frozen Wall, and his curls, gleaming in the fire. Dany hasn't spoken to anyone but old men and women for these past months, and any young men were trying to steal her throne. She understands that this is why she is so drawn to this young Lord Snow.

Jon, she tries in her mind. He looks like a Jon.

She is so busy thinking that she doesn't realize they are at the top of the wall until the lift shudders to a stop. Quickly and quietly, he opens the door, and Dany follows him. It is almost nighttime, and the setting sun casts a long shadow over them. Dany nearly laughs. It might almost be romantic, if she wanted it to be. With warmer company, with a man whose father hadn't played a role in killing hers, perhaps...

"Lord Snow," She says suddenly, "Did you have any siblings?"

He stills, and she can only tell because his arm is captured by hers. She applies pressure to it, and sees the pain in his face.

"They're all dead now," he says quietly. Dany doesn't know why, but making him squirm gives her a sort of satisfaction, and she feels terrible for it. But his jaw twitches, and his hair is blown into his face, and Dany summons a smile that would melt the coldest heart.

Not his, it seems.

"My men and I will stay here a fortnight. I would know all aspects of my kingdom, even the Wall."

He tenses even more at that. Is this what Eddard Stark looked like? she wonders. Then she turns and gazes out at the land north of the wall.

For almost three days, Jon Snow avoids her. He wants nothing to do with her, Dany knows. Still, he is an enigma, and Dany finds herself intrigued. More so when she sees his wolf.

Ghost does not seem to like or mislike Dany. He stares at her as he keeps behind Lord Snow, and his red eyes follow her with disinterest. Ghost and Jon, Jon and Ghost, they both seem so cold and unforgiving. That is, until she sees Jon actually interact with the direwolf. For the first time, Lord Snow looks young, and his ever somber face seems almost caught in a smile.

Then he sees her looking at him, and the scowl returns.

His men are more polite, once they realize she hasn't come to kill them for sheltering Stannis. Slowly, she hears tales of their Lord Commander. They all fear him, respect him, and are in awe of him. They will follow him, she sees, to the grave and beyond. Some already have. She hears of a wildling bride, how he gained Mance Rayder's trust only to turn on him out of loyalty to the Watch.

Dany longs to speak to Lord Snow, to Jon, and hear it firsthand, but cannot seem to come close to him.

She overhears him talking one day, to the maester friend of his.

"She doesn't like being cooped up."

"I know, Jon, but it's for her own good."

Jon sighs and tears a hand through his hair, pulling at the curls. Dany is pushed up against a wall, shushing Ser Barristan, and listening intently.

"Yes. I know. When are they leaving?"

"Nine days. Don't ask me, when you already know, Jon."

"I know. Gods, Sam, it seems like just after we've passed one bit of trouble-"

"Jon!" The maester's voice drops. "Nothing will go wrong. Your sister will be fine. The dragon queen doesn't even know she's here!"

Sister? Dany puzzles over it. Jon told her, that first day, that all his siblings were dead.

"Apparently not, Your Grace," Ser Barristan says gently.

"Why would he lie?" Dany says, fuming back and forth.

"My Queen...if you found a Stark, what would you do with them?"

Dany knows the answer, but is afraid to say it.

Ser Barristan looks at her, and is soft when he says, "He doesn't know you, Your Grace. He cannot trust you. If he is sheltering his sister at the Wall, it is because he fears your wrath."

With that, Dany is pushing away from her knight, and nearly runs to Lord Snow's chambers.

The Watch knows. That's why they talked to me of his past. To keep me distracted from the fact that there is a woman here.

When she is outside his solar, the guards he has posted start. She pushes them out of the way, and shoves the door open.

Lord Snow is laughing.

She's never seen him laugh, not in the five days she's been here. His curls gleam in the torchlight, and he is laughing. Until he sees Dany.

His sword is out of its scabbard the moment he stands.

Dany doesn't move, but instead looks behind him, to the girl he has just pushed behind him. She is blinking as if she cannot believe that Dany has just unceremoniously interrupted her conversation. She is pretty, with long red hair and her furs wrapped tightly around her.

"What are you doing here," Jon is saying, and his voice is a growl.

Dany just stares at him, and nods to the girl. "Your sister, I presume?"

The Stark girl touches his arm, "Jon, put the sword down. No need for you to lose your head as well."

Lose his head? Is that what she thinks? Dany doesn't know what she will do, now that she sees her, a Stark girl.

Jon Snow lowers his sword and breathes out, "Sansa, please sit." He collects himself, visibly, and says, "Your Grace. I'm sorry for my reaction."

Dany nods, and thinks, Sansa. Her name is Sansa. She was almost married to Joffrey.

Dany sits.

The next day, Dany summons Lady Sansa to her solar. Sansa is the perfect lady, but her hand shakes, and Dany wishes she could scream that she's not going to hurt the poor girl.

Sansa tells her of the Vale, and of King's Landing, and coming to the Wall. She is certainly not what Dany expected, and nearly cries when Dany announces that she will give Winterfell back to Sansa.

"I've dreamt of home a long time, Your Grace," Sansa says, as she leaves. "Thank you for allowing me to see it again."

Dany realizes that one day, she was Sansa as well.

She calls the Lord Commander to her that night, and they dine together.

"Your sister was a treat, Lord Snow," Dany teases, the wine loosening her tongue. "You should not have hid her from me."

His smile is pained.

The image of him, smiling up at her with his curls between her thighs, almost overwhelms Dany, and she takes a drink to calm herself. The fire is suddenly too hot, and Dany is never too hot.

"I want to thank you," he is saying, and Dany stares at him, dimly wondering what he is thanking her for, and then he says, "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell-"

She kisses him.

It's insane, because she does not know this man well, nor does she really trust him. But Dany feels the fire inside of her, and rakes her nails through his hair to he can feel it too.

Gods, it's even softer than she thought it would be.

She barely hears Ser Barristan's gasp.

When she pulls away, his hair is wild from her fingers, and his pupils blown, and he is breathing heavy. His hands clench the armrests of the chair he is in, and Dany realizes, suddenly, who he is and who she is, and then he is standing, and she is calling out to him, but he is gone-

Dany gets him alone three days before she is to leave. He has been staunchly avoiding her, and she cannot stop thinking of him. It's not love, or infatuation, but Dany can't help noticing him, when he trains with his men, when he plays with Ghost, when he talks to his sister.

Ser Barristan tries to talk her out of her interest. "He did not kiss you back, Your Grace. He is a man of the Night's Watch, and he can-"

"Take no wives and father no children. I know, Ser. I know."

So on her third to last day, she orders Jorah to bring him to her.

She is alone with him, for the first time ever, and sees that he is not too comfortable in their proximity.

Angry, she asks, "Do you know who I am, Jon Snow?"

He looks at her, "Daenerys Targaryen. Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

"And," Dany says, grasping him by his cloak, "queens get what they want, don't they? But what about Lord Commanders? Do they get what they want as well?"

Her hand strays into his curls by the base of his neck, and his eyes close, for a moment. He looks almost young, for a moment, and Dany brushes her lips against his.

This time he kisses back.

He is almost asleep, and Dany plays with his curls as she watches him. He is beautiful, she decides, and should not be hidden up here in the North. If it weren't for his damn duty, Dany could see him as lord of Winterfell. And, maybe, her paramour.

"Hm," he sighs, as her fingers smooth out his hair, "Feels good."

She presses a kiss to his shoulder, and smirks at him through her eyelashes, "I know."

Later, he will feel guilty, she knows. But for now, he is hers, and she will make the most of it.