Author's Note: Hello everyone! Enjoy!

Follow me on Tumblr! gohansonna2 :)

Chapter Three

Tyrion

"If I find you and Jon one more time in a supposedly hidden alcove fondling each other, I might throw myself off this tower."

Daenerys's mouth fell open for a brief second before she blushed.

"We do not fondle each other, Tyrion."

His eyebrow jutted upward. "Then what exactly are you two doing in dark corners, giggling like two naughty septas?"

Her face turned redder before her chin jutted into the air like the proud queen she was. "Perhaps we are fondling each other. What does it matter?"

Tyrion chuckled as she admitted exactly what they had been doing. "Please, my dear. Just go away for a day or so and enjoy yourselves before the wedding. Everyone in this Keep is beginning to drive me senseless, and I think watching you two fawning over each other might just tip me over the edge."

Dany frowned as she picked at the pleats in her warm blue gown. "I can't just leave right before the wedding. People are expecting to see Jon and I preparing and making sure everything is running smoothly. Emissaries are arriving from all over the Known World and it would be disrespectful for me not to be there when they arrive."

Tyrion found himself rolling his eyes as he sipped his favorite wine. "Your Grace, as I am sure you are aware, I am your Hand. It would not be a slight if I were to handle these matters in their entirety while you and Jon are suddenly overcome with a slight sickness that has you both confined to your separate chambers. While you are recovering, I will gladly deal with these nobles and representatives arriving in droves."

Dany blinked several times as she considered his words. "You truly think we could escape for an entire day without insulting anyone? I don't know…I think that with our wedding being less than a sennight away, it would be best just to wait. Not to mention I do not get sick. I've only been sick one time and it was from bad water. I've also never seen Jon ill, though he has said he was once as a child. Maybe we could go away for a few days after the wedding. That would be more acceptable."

Tyrion shrugged as he watched the queen of the Seven Kingdoms pace about the opulent space. The Tower of the Hand was once again his, but it had been destroyed since he had originally occupied the space. Cersei had seen to the complete and utter destruction of the tower after he had killed his father, but the previous Hand, Mace Tyrell, had taken it upon himself to have it rebuilt three times bigger and even better than before.

He had made a few changes, of course. He was a rich man, and he had been destitute for too long once he had left Westeros. He enjoyed the pleasures of wealth, and had made sure to fill the tower with everything he wanted.

His pleasure was costly, but a lot of it had come out of his own pocket. As the Lord of Casterly Rock, he now had funds at his disposal that he had never believed possible. He had forgiven all debts owed to the Lannisters so that the royal family would be able to pay back most of the debt owed to the Iron Bank with little to no trouble, considering the sheer amount of riches Daenerys had managed to obtain from her travels over the years. Between the Seven Kingdoms, such as the Vale, Dorne, and the Reach, they had been able to amass enough wealth to pay back the bank. They were only paying back the interest now, which would be gone in about two years, unless their incomes changed.

The space was much more comfortable and not so much in the military style of his father and the previous Hands before him, but instead was obviously meant for a wealthy man like Mace and himself. Daenerys had initially scoffed at the sheer sumptuousness of it all, but more often than not, he found her visiting him and enjoying the luxuries. Many times their council meetings were held here, where everyone thoroughly enjoyed the chambers.

Right now, she was reclined on an overstuffed crimson divan, gazing out of the window. Snow had not fallen for over a week and was a good sign. Many were hoping that winter would be ending soon, but no word had come from Oldtown.

"I think I will talk to Jon about it and see what he says," she said offhandedly, sighing in that way she had recently started doing, more than likely some female thing he guessed. She was probably daydreaming of Jon's cock.

Tyrion thought for a moment before he opened his mouth, something that was rare. "Jon seems like he is going back to his normal self. More or less."

She turned from her spot to look at him, her stunning eyes wide and hopeful. All she needed to do was clasp her hands together and look dreamy and the picture would be complete. "You think so?"

He shrugged as he began shuffling through several stacks of papers, trying to locate the last few documents for the wedding that he wanted to triple check. "I met Jon long before you did, my queen. We spent quality time together on our travels to the Wall, and we also had deep and interesting discussions at that desolate place. He was a young boy then, but you can see the tiniest glimpses of that boy when he is with you. He was a somber lad then as he still is, but he was much quicker to smile and laugh then. He even had a bit of a sense of humor. His devotion to his family was profound. Losing them...and his life, changed him. Amongst other...various losses."

Tyrion had been present at some of those losses. Not only that, but with him going from a bastard to the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch to a prince after Daenerys had named him kin, he had not stayed the same boy. He was a man now, but not the man Tyrion had thought he would become. He wasn't bad in any way, but he also wasn't fully there in the head at certain times.

Tyrion more than likely had beheld more breakdowns of Jon Stark Targaryen than any other person in the Seven Kingdoms. For all of the terrible things he had witnessed him go through and do, it was a wonder the boy was able to hold it together like he did. Then again, he himself had done some terrible things, and he didn't think he was crazy.

Daenerys was looking contemplative as they sat quietly. The fire was crackling in the hearth but needed another log or two. He thought of getting up to do just that when she sat up, saying, "I must see him. He has been oddly subdued today. Normally I receive a missive or two from him by now."

Tyrion heard something in her words and stopped her quickly before she left the Tower of the Hand. "Daenerys, if I may...Jon is very fragile. This sudden change in your relationship...do not push him too hard. I don't want to see either of you hurt. We all have fought for this family, and we only have each other. Be careful."

He saw the confusion on her beautiful face before she chewed her lip and hurried away, her guards meeting her at the entrance before they followed their mistress to Maegor's Holdfast.

Daenerys

"I think you would enjoy the Great Grass Sea, Jon. To see Vaes Dothrak, meet people of another culture, live such an ancient lifestyle. I will have to teach you Dothraki customs of course, and the language. But it came quickly to me, so I am sure it will for you as well. You've seen my handmaidens and dealt with them from time to time, so you aren't completely unaware."

He was mostly silent as they ate dinner. A few nods here and there and murmured words were all that she was getting from him. She was worried something was wrong, and had asked as much, but he had declined her worries. He was flexing his burned hand quite often, and she wondered if it pained him. His many scars sometimes bothered him, especially if the weather abruptly changed, which it had. The snows had begun late afternoon, shortly after she had left the Tower of the Hand. It fell heavy and thick, as if it wanted to bury the city.

"I can have Grand Maester Hyndyll bring you a poultice or milk of the poppy if you want, Jon," she said softly, reaching for his hand, which he did not have covered with the glove he typically wore to cover the barely-there scars. She had told him long ago that it did not bother her to see his hand marred in such a way, but he had not stopped wearing his gloves in her presence until the last few days, and only when they were alone.

He jerked his hand away before she could touch him. She blinked at the sudden reaction, and he muttered an apology that did not seem entirely sincere. She searched his face to find the answers to his moodiness, but nothing came to her.

In that moment she was tempted to spit some fire, but at the last second refrained when she remembered Tyrion's words from earlier. Perhaps something had happened and he was upset.

She stood instead, shaking out her lavender skirts. It was one of Jon's favorite dresses, and she had noticed him admiring her when she had first entered his room for the evening meal. She had figured that there would be a night of delights to follow, but now she was not so sure. Perhaps she could change his dreary mood.

As she stood, Ghost lifted himself from his place by the roaring fire and walked to her side. She hummed with amusement as he brushed against her, purposefully nearly knocking her over in that odd affectionate way he had recently adopted with her before he stuck his wet nose in her ear, nudging her.

She followed the direwolf to the entrance of Jon's bedchamber. She looked back at him before she entered the room and said, "I will be waiting for you."

Her clothes were shed quickly, as she wanted to have herself arranged on the bed in the most enticing pose possible for when he came in. She had barely relaxed upon the surface when he entered the warm room, his head down, closing the door with a soft click. When he turned, he saw her entirely naked and reclined on her side, her head resting in her hand and her fingers lazily tracing the curve of her hip.

She bit her lip as she watched his hands fist and his body visibly shake. Sometimes his reactions to her, whether she was nude or dressed, had her wanting him so bad it hurt. It was obvious at this point that he was trying to wait until their wedding night before they actually had physical relations, but it was only a handful of days away, and she didn't see why she couldn't try to tempt fate as she had just the other night.

"Daenerys, I—"

She shook her head as she shifted her position, getting on all fours as she crawled towards him slowly in a predatory manner. He had moved to the edge of the bed, but instead of going into his arms, she turned completely around at the last second and fell forward, raising her bottom into the air. She flung her long hair aside and looked back at him over her shoulder, trying to appear as seductive as possible.

"I want you, Jon," she purred, waving her ass back and forth in a hypnotizing manner. His hands reached out to grasp the tempting morsels of her flesh, and she moaned low in her throat as he squeezed.

"I want to feel your cock, Jon. I want you inside me. I want to scream your name over and over again," she whispered over her shoulder. She heard him draw in a sharp breath at her words, and in the next moment, she felt one of his fingers trail down the cleft of her plump buttocks. The path his fingertips followed was slow and torturous, until they found the bundle of nerves that was the source of her pleasure. She cried out in delight as he touched her there for a few long moments, stirring the warmth inside of her until she was thrumming with need.

When his inquisitive fingers left the place she wanted touched the most and found her entrance, slowly sliding inside, she moaned loudly and arched her back, feeling her thighs quiver at the deliberate tease. His free hand was caressing her back and behind, until it moved around her thigh to find the tiny nub that she wanted touched so desperately.

She felt her whole body start to tremble. His pace continued the same slow, erotic movement, making her cry out into the furs on the bed over and over again. She was pushing back against his finger, begging for more, but he would not give it. Her muscles were beginning to convulse and she knew that she would explode at any moment, but she did not want to. She wanted him, not his fingers.

"Please, Jon," she whimpered, her eyes starting to water. She was quivering uncontrollably, fighting the need her muscles had to clench down and shatter.

She gasped in near pain when both of his hands left her. Before she could turn, she heard the sounds of him undressing, and quickly flipped over, hoping against hope that he would finally fuck her and make her his.

"Oh, yes," she said eagerly, watching as his clothes dropped to the floor. He was naked in only a few seconds, and her eyes went straight to his hard cock, ready to expire if he was not within her in the next instant. He moved to crawl onto the bed, and she spread her legs wide, her breasts heaving as her hands reached urgently for him. Her fingers curled around the thick length of his manhood, and she squeezed him as he came closer to her core. He hissed at the feeling of her soft hand as she rubbed the head of his cock against the wetness there.

She didn't think she had ever wanted a man as much as she wanted Jon. If his skills with his tongue and fingers were any indication, she knew that she was going to enjoy every second of their joining. She jerked her hips against his length, not able to stand it any longer.

"Jon...my prince...I—"

"I can't."

It took her a moment to comprehend his words, and it was only when the heat of his body left hers that his words registered. She sat up, confused, as she watched him begin to jerk on his clothes.

"What—I don't understand. Where are you going, Jon? What's wrong?" she asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable in her nakedness. She jerked a fur over her as he yanked on his boots and stood.

"I can't. I just can't. You...you wouldn't understand. I have to go," he said, his last words sounding like he was trying not to cry. She had only ever seen him cry one time in the two years she had known him, and fear sliced through her.

"Don't go," she said quietly, her hand reaching out for him, her eyes begging him not to leave.

He couldn't meet her gaze. He stared at Ghost instead, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck and on her arms stand on end. The way the two looked at each other, she swore that they could talk in a language they both understood. The direwolf snorted and shook his head as if nodding, and Dany watched as Jon walked out of his bedchamber, slamming the door behind him.

She felt tears fall down her cheeks, and she didn't know why.

Daenerys

The snow had not stopped. It was as if the gods were mourning.

She had the city watch on shoveling duty and constantly patrolling to make sure people had enough wood to stay warm.

She was in Jon's room, laying dejectedly on his bed after his desertion of her the previous night. No one had seen him since he had left, and she was worried about him. There had been no trace of him for hours, except for the palace guard to say that he had left the Keep. He had declined an escort, and when he had been pressed by Ser Barristan, he had drawn his sword and threatened them all to leave him alone. The sight of his sword was enough to scare everyone off.

Ser Barristan had told her that he'd had the prince followed, but with the weather and the prince being quicker of wit than his pursuers, he was quickly lost amongst the city buildings.

"Your Grace."

She rolled over to see Ser Barristan standing in the doorway. She sat up, suddenly afraid at his demeanor. He looked like he was afraid to talk.

"Drogon is gone, Your Grace."

She closed her eyes.

Jon had left her.

Author's Note: Daenerys is too young and inexperienced to understand that sometimes one's state of mind is too fragile to handle certain situations, especially a person like Jon, who has lost too much. Her body will end up betraying her in the long run...

Please follow me on Tumblr! gohansonna2 :)