Original post on Tumblr.

A/N: It's been so long since I wrote fanfiction. Literally years! Like, a decade ago. So forgive me for any errors or mistakes as I'm slowly getting back into writing. I read the books a long, long time ago so I don't remember much.

Here is my first ever Jonerys/ JonxDany fanfic. It's not very fluffy and I have to build up the courage to write smut LOL It turned out more angsty than I hoped but well, I tried to stay as true to the characters as I could. Hope you guys enjoy it!

This will be the first part of… many parts lol. Just a similar idea to what others have already done. My own version of off-screen events or moments I wished we could have seen on the show.

This takes place on Dragonstone before they set sail for White Harbour in 7x07. Spoilers, beware!

"You sent for me, Your Grace?"

The King in the North stood waiting at the entrance of Dragonstone's cave-like War Room. The silver-haired queen had her back to him, one hand holding a silver goblet and the other rested on the rough edges of her Painted Table. The light from the fireplace barely illuminating the cold, dark room as it cast jagged, moving shadows of the map table on the stone floor. The soothing sound of the waves crashing against the rocky foundation of the ancient fortress echoed in the chamber.

"I did." she responded curtly.

Daenerys Targaryen turned and faced the somber Northener standing at the doorway.

"Do you drink, Jon Snow?" she asked, eyeing the pitcher of wine and the set of goblets on an end table against the wall.

"On occasion." Came the gruff reply.

A small smirk graced the queen's lips as she walked over to the table and started to pour dark red wine into another silver goblet.

"Sit." She commanded. "Have a drink with me while we can. Fortunately, Lord Tyrion had the courtesy to leave a barrel or two of Arbor Red for the rest of us before he drinks the rest of the cellars dry."

The queen's dry humour was not lost on Jon Snow as he shifted uncomfortably, uncertain of his next move and surprised at the sudden invitation. He had expected to be asked a few questions in regards to the movement of her troops or perhaps seeking information about the Night King and the army of the Dead. Yet, here was His Queen requesting his company and offering him a glass of wine.

He lingered a few moments by the doorway, then steeling himself, made his way to one of the wooden chairs situated in front of the fireplace.

The queen moved towards him and he accepted the glass she offered, nodding his thanks as he took a seat. She, however, walked past the other chair and resumed her position on the map table with her back to him. Her silver hair bathed in the orange-gold of the firelight.

Hair kissed by fire…

The thought of Ygritte's bright, auburn hair crossed Jon's mind for an instant but then dissipated as quickly as it came. He hadn't thought of his wildling lover for some time now and he closed his eyes as he shook his head, wondering why she crossed his mind.

There's no time for that…

The voice of Daenerys broke his fleeting reverie.

"For someone with such high regard for honor and honesty, you haven't been entirely truthful about yourself, Jon Snow."

Jon's brows furrowed as he glanced at the queen. She turned her head to face him, her lavender eyes looked dark in the dimly lit room.

"You told me Ser Davos got carried away when he said you took a knife in the heart for your people."

A silent understanding registered in Jon's dark gray eyes as he shifted his gaze to the cup in his hand, his elbows on his thighs as he slouched forward. His face suddenly growing warm and he knew it wasn't due to the heat of the fire burning in the hearth beside him.

"Even Lord Tyrion brushed it off citing 'the dreariness of the North', but it wasn't just another figure of speech, was it?" she asked, her eyes not leaving him. By the glow of the light, the King in the North looked much older than he was. The dark circles and lines of his face betraying the many burdens he carried for his people.

For all our people, Dany mused, recalling the words he spoke to her not long ago.

"I saw them, your scars, at Eastwatch. When they brought you back half-dead and frozen. I-I couldn't…" her voice trailed off in a tremble.

Jon Snow looked back at her briefly before glancing back to his cup and bowing his head, "My apologies, Your Grace. It wasn't my intention to mislead you…" He paused and swallowed hard before continuing with a wry smile, "It's not a story I enjoy telling and I'm not sure you would want to hear it."

This time, Daenerys walked towards the chair opposite him and sat down, her gaze still upon him.

"Tell me."

Jon heaved a large sigh, he knew he couldn't escape or skirt around the issue any longer. He lifted his eyes and saw the queen was sitting quite still, waiting for his response. Her wineglass she had left on the table, and her two pale hands rested on her lap.

"When I was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, after the Night King and his army attacked us at Hardhome, I ordered my brothers to open the gates of Castle Black and allow the free folk – the wildings – south of the wall. Not all of them agreed with my decision."

Jon gritted his teeth at the memory of that night. He could already feel the thrust of cold steel into his gut.

Olly…

"One night, my steward… a young boy named Olly said that one of the wildlings had information about my Uncle Benjen. He was a ranger who had been lost North of the Wall some time ago. I followed Olly down to the courtyard and then –" his eyes shut and it was if his wounds were bleeding anew underneath his clothes.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes before he continued, "And then, I saw a wooden board with the word 'traitor" written on it. At first, I thought it was a tasteless joke and when I turned to face my men, Ser Allister Thorne – a man I had named First Ranger, a man who hated me from the first day I came to the Wall – drove a dagger into my gut."

For the Watch…

Dany felt a dull twist in her stomach as he told his story, as if she could almost feel the knife herself.

"I don't remember how many times or how many of my brothers… but…" sadness filled Jon's gray eyes, "But Olly… He stabbed me in the heart and I…"

Jon looked up at Dany and whispered, "I died."

Those two words hung in the air for what seemed like eternity. The crackling sounds of the fire and the crashing waves were the only sounds they could hear.

Dany felt tears behind her eyes but held them back as she let his words sink in.

He risked his life for his people. He took a knife in his heart for his people. He gave his own… life.

Ser Davos' words rang clear in her head as if she was hearing it for this first time and finally filled in the blanks.

"But you're here… alive…"

"Aye." He replied. His throat felt dry and he took this moment to drain his cup, the sweet burn of the wine was a welcome respite.

"How?" came the breathless question from Dany's lips.

"The Red woman who came with Stannis Baratheon and Ser Davos. She… she brought me back somehow."

"The Red Woman? Melisandre?"

Jon gazed at Dany in surprise, "You know her?"

Dany nodded, "She came to Dragonstone a few days after we landed. She asked me to summon you. She said that we both had a part to play in the Great War to come. Was she not there to greet you when you arrived?"

"No," Jon responded, "And I understand why she didn't. At Winterfell, I warned her that if she ever returned North, I would have her hanged for murder."

"Murder?"

"For the death of Shireen Baratheon. Stannis' daughter. The Red Woman burned her at the stake."

Dany's hands tightened into fists in her lap. She had heard about the usurper's brother and how he also named himself rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms after the death of his brother. The War of the Five Kings, they called it. She had a faint memory of being told about his daughter, she had survived greyscale as a babe and her face was marked with the scars of the disease.

Greyscale… Ser Jorah…

Dany stood from her seat and headed back to the Painted Table to retrieve her cup of wine, she sipped it slowly contemplating Jon Snow's tale. Melisandre brought him back from the dead. But how? Why? Lord Tyrion has mentioned to her that the followers of the Lord of Light were a great boon to their cause in Mereen. She remembered the prophesy Melisandre had mentioned in the throne room.

The prince or princess who was promised will bring the dawn…

But what does it all mean? Dany asked herself, her head filled with unanswered questions.

"Your Grace?"

Jon Snow was standing as well, his empty cup on the arm of the chair he was sitting on.

Dany turned to face him once again, her back against the rough edges of the table, "If you told me this story weeks ago, I don't think I would have believed any of it. But after everything we've been through, I know no reason not trust you."

"Your Grace, I'm sorry if I…"

"No," Dany interrupted, "You were right not to tell me when I first asked. I understand now. And I wouldn't have understood it back then."

Her right hand fiddled with the stem of her goblet, "Perhaps I should be the one asking for forgiveness. It was wrong of me to pry."

Jon shook his head and he approached the table. Placing his palms down on the rough edges, he spoke in a low voice, his Northern drawl lingering on every word "There's nothing wrong with asking for the truth, Your Grace. And you were right. I wouldn't be a man of my word if I withheld the truth. After everything, it was only right that I told you… and I'm glad I did."

A small smile tugged at the edge of Dany's lips as she took another sip from her cup.

Suddenly, the cries of her dragons resounded in the distance and drew their attention. They both turned to gaze outside the open windows. There was no moon tonight, only darkness outside the castle walls.

Although the dragons were far above them, she could distinguish Rhaegal's calls from Drogon's. It was just the two of them now. The absence of Viserion's voice struck her heart as she recalled his shriek when he fell from the sky into the frozen lake.

Viserion… my golden sweetling… my child…

Dany hadn't noticed that the tears she was holding back were now streaming down her pale cheeks. Then suddenly she felt a warm hand brush against her face.

She gasped softly when she turned to see Jon Snow at her side, his right hand on her cheek and his face was mere inches from hers.

"Dany." Her name was a sigh on his lips.

Dany, tell them! Make them! You can't! Dany, please!

Her brother's screams resounded in her head. She saw the molten gold crown seep down his silver hair, over his dark lilac eyes…

Viserys… The dragon who bore your name… he's gone too…

Realizing what he had just done, Jon's eyes widened as he drew back his hand, a rueful look on his face as he stepped back.

"I shouldn't have –"

"Leave me." She whispered softly and turned her head away from him. There was no malice or anger in her tone. It was the voice of a scared girl hiding behind the commanding aura of a grown queen.

I must have fire in my eyes, not tears… If I look back, I am lost…

"My Queen."

Jon Snow bowed his head respectfully, then taking his leave, he left in a rush, and she was alone again. His distant footfalls echoing as he left the room.

She breathed out a shaky sigh as she let her tears continue to fall. A tightening feeling in her chest grew even tighter as she sobbed quietly, wondering if she was wrong to send him away.

Her hand touched her cheek, it was but a moment yet his touch had burned its way into her memory. Just like it did when he had held onto her hand on the ship when she was at his bedside.

I hope I deserve it…

And in a rare moment of vulnerability, Daenerys Targaryen was no longer the stoic, regal queen. Instead, in her place, was a grieving young mother, mourning the loss of her child and the regret of having sent away a man she was slowly falling for.