Daenerys was limp and weary by the time she wandered down from the turrets, Drogons favorite place to land. They'd flown so far this time, she'd not been home for a whole night and day. And all that time she couldn't stop seeing the things she'd done. All those things that had first believed she must do, and all the things she might have stopped herself from doing. Each thing played out in the mind over and over again as they flew over endless rocks and fields. Returning to Dragonstone this time, she felt for the first time like it was home. She was met first by the kindly Ser Davos, who immediately offered his cloak. She accepted gratefully, as her fingers and arms felt numb and stiff. He excused himself quietly and hurried off to let the castle know the dragon queen had returned.

Everyone seemed to be either afraid of her or afraid for her. She answered questions and concerns for her safety as best she could. Trying to maintain a steady, calm demeanor was draining her to nothing, but none would have suspected her weakness, not even her scribe. I had to burn them, she told herself again and again, I gave them a choice. But tears still prickled at the corner of her eyes when she thought of them, the younger especially. They were just the sort of knights she'd dream of as a girl in Braavos, ready to die for the house they swore to. And she was the one who did it. Dragon-blood. Stormborn. Madness. She shook her head to clear the doubt, and knew it was important to cry, should she feel like it, in her bed tonight. Tomorrow she had to go right back to being strong.

On the stairs she was joined by Missandei, ever respectful and two paces behind. In the hall, Ser Jorah bowed silently until she passed and then trailed along behind them. Tyrion hovered always nearby, concern etched on his face, but she could hardly look at him let alone speak. He'd been right all along. She was nearly at her chambers when from out another hall, the king Jon Snow strode briskly and then halted all at once when he saw her. He appeared to bolster courage, before he spoke.

"You might have said where you were going. Before just vanishing."

"Shall I be telling you where I am going now, Jon Snow." she teased, but her weariness was catching up and she felt her knees slightly buckle, and then catch.

"You're unwell." Jon Snow moved to take her arm, but Ser Jorah was there first.

"Khaleesi."

"It's alright Ser Jorah," Dany smiled tenderly, "I'm tired from flying. That is all."

'Please, you must rest." he spoke close to her ear.

She pulled free, and then patted his arm. "I am well enough to speak to an ally and friend in confidence."

Jon was glowering hard at the man, but Ser Jorah was oblivious of it, concerned only for her well being. When Missandei opened Danys door, he bowed low and kissed her hand, ignored Jon Snows impatient snort, and left her for the night. Her little scribe gave half a smile and closed the chamber door so that in the hall there was only Daenerys and Jon Snow alone. She waited diplomatically for him to begin, and she was certain he was looking at her, but she chose to study the carpet on the hall floor.

"Daenerys," he started then shook his head and stopped himself.

Her name, spoken for the first time from his lips hung out in the air and she felt rather stripped by it. Silence filled the space until she shrugged out of her cloak, and said, "Would you give this to Ser Davos, he was so kind-"

"Your grace." he broke in firmly, "Now is not the time to fly off and scare people into thinking you are dead."

Dany raised her eyebrows, "Is that what happened."

"Yes." he admitted readily, then. "No! Maybe, for a few of us." He shook his head, "Where were you?"

For a moment she allowed herself to look in his eyes. I keep forgetting how dark they are, she took in a long breath, how young his face, even with his beard and grave looking scar down his eye. What would he have to say about the men she'd burned, how they screamed, would he still seem so protective? With the way he stares at me just now, I believe I could burn the world down around him and he wouldn't care. She swallowed roughly.

"I was trying to reconcile myself with past sins, Jon Snow. If you must know." she held Ser Davos cloak in front of her with both hands, like a barrier. "Guilt is... a crippling emotion for a ruler. A weakness that will tare you down, if left unchecked. I cannot look back... But their faces remain. Ones who've died for me, ones who I've made die. Ones who died simply because I was coming to their city."

Like the little girls who died by the hundreds as a warning to me, Tears prickled at her eyes. All the nights I can't sleep, and wander around in the dark. Dany turned her face slightly away from him. Alone, even with a lover beside me.

"But with Drogon," she steadied her voice, "It's as though he doesn't know whats inside my head, but whats inside my heart. There is no judgment from my children, only trust. And when we fly, we soar. So high above this world, that it vanishes. This cursed rock, the sea, Westeros. Above the clouds..." Dany grew wistful, "the air is so strange you can hardly breath, the stars are so close and everything falls away. Even the faces...for a while at least-"

She knew she was rambling, but what made her stop was Jon Snows face. It may have been the small tilt of his head, the empathetic warmth in his eyes or the way his young brow formed the saddest expression she'd ever seen, but she knew it was working against her. As always, his gaze moved between her lips and her eyes, but by the way he fidgeted, clenching his hands nervously, she knew if she waited long enough he would kiss her. Her fear was that she was losing the motivation to stop him, because the gods knew her blood was rushing.

"Forgive me, I must sound like a fool." She stuffed the heavy cloak at him, in a move to separate. "I'm just so tired-"

"Have you told Tyrion any of this, or Varys?" he spoke at last.

Shaking her head, she found herself saying, "I've never wanted to look unsure in front of them, even Tyrion. He may advise me, but in the end it is I who must make the decisions. The good and the bad."

Jon took a very deep breath, and nodded. Still his eyes were soft, and did not stop searching her face.

"I fear I will have to retire before dinner, my lord." Dany broke the silence again, but he snagged her wrist first before she could flee.

"Wait, girl." he whispered, and he stepped in nearer than Ser Jorah had ever dared to come. "We each of us have our own faces to forget. You are not alone in that. You are never alone"

Maybe it was how gently his fingers wrapped around her, and yet still held firm, but she found herself captured by more then just the heat of his grip. She could feel it burning through the fabric of her dress, and in the deep, wood fire smell of him. You are never alone. The thought of what the king in the north would do to her if she pulled him into her room, made her so heavy with desire, that her eyes closed. She was fully aware, when he slowly worked his thumb into her palm, of how her fingers involuntarily curled around it.

But you are technically my enemy. Dany's eyes flew open and she looked on him as objectively as she could. No matter how deeply I may feel drawn to you. No matter how easy it may be to let whatever this force is take me with it. I am not yours, and you are not mine. She pulled her hand away and took a small, painful step back.

He nodded. As though he'd read her thoughts, and she caught just the tiniest flash of pain in his face before he bowed his head and walked away from her. She shut her eyes and leaned her head back against her door. It was not what she intended, to harm him, but it did help her to fly off and understand things as a whole again. If she hadn't she would never have been able to resist the man. And she must resist him, or her head would be filled with something other than the plan. But then, why does it feel like I'm split in half...

JON

He lowered the paper slowly. "I thought Arya was dead. I thought Bran was dead."

"I'm happy for you," said the Queen.

Jon felt lost. Of all the time he'd spent mining the cave on Dragonstone, the last few weeks had been the most distracting. So rarely had he thought of home, or his poor half-sister ruling in his stead that he felt shamed now, seeing her scrawled words on the ravens scroll. It was hard to look at them and the warning they gave knowing he was so far away and relatively safe.

"You don't look happy." Daenerys was watching him but he couldn't bring himself to look her way just yet.

"Bran saw the Night King and his army marching towards Eastwatch," he told her, "If they make it past the wall-" he tossed the note aside.

Varys cut in quickly, "But the wall has kept them out for thousands of years, presumably-"

"I need to go home." Jon interrupted, his voice tired.

Daenerys pushed back, "You said you don't have enough men."

"We'll fight with the men we have, unless you'll join us?" he flung the same question back to her once more.

"And give the country to Cersei," she flung back the same answer, "As soon as I march away, she marches in."

Jon struggled with the argument that had been plaguing them for months. The barrier between them, invisible but too strong to break. But the thought of her army moving for the North made his head reel. If he were honest with himself, the only way going back to Winterfell without being a failure, would be to bring the Dragon Queen with him. And it was beginning to seem like an impossible dream.

"Perhaps not." Tyrion finally spoke. "Cersei thinks the army of the dead is nothing but a story, made up by wet-nurses to frighten children. What if we prove her wrong?"

Jon imagined walking into the other queens court, trying to explain himself. He laughed dryly. "I don't think she'll come see the dead at my invitation."
Tyrion turned and approached him in earnest. "So bring the dead to her."

Jon squinted at him and the Queen said, "I thought that was what we were trying to avoid."

"We don't have to bring the whole army, only one soldier."

"Is that possible?" Ser Davos asked of Jon.

Jon considered it. "The first wight I ever saw was brought into Castle Black from beyond the wall."

Tyrion seemed ignited. "Bring one of these things down to Kings Landing and show her the truth."

Jon felt the spark of action stirring in his blood.

"Anything you bring back will be useless unless Cersei grants us an audience, and is somehow convinced not to murder us the moment we set foot in the capital." Varys said, and as he spoke Jon watched them all be thrown by his words.

"The only person she listens to is Jaime," Tyrion spoke again. "he might listen to me."

The Hand looked to his queen who was not yet convinced. "And how would you get into Kings Landing?" she asked.

Tyrion turned slowly to Ser Davos. Jon did as well. A noted smuggler would be perfect in a situation like this. But Ser Davos did not look thrilled. "I can smuggle ye in, but if the gold cloaks were te recognize ye, I'm warning ye, I'm not a fighter."

Tyrion nodded, and looked as though he couldn't believe what he'd just done.

"Well it will all be for nothing if we don't have one of these dead men." Daenerys pointed out.

"A fair point." said Varys, and glanced at Jon. "How do you propose to find one?"

Jon's mind raced. An audience, in Kings Landing, and a chance for the world to know the truth. For Daenerys to know it, finally. But how far from Eastwatch was the army, and how could they hope to get just one. He studied the map table. The North was far more vast than this piece of furniture allowed.

"With the Queens permission, I' ll go North and take one." said a voice Jon was not used to hearing. Daenerys turned to the gruff knight, Jorah Mormont, looking panicked at his words. "You asked me to find a cure so I could serve you, allow me to serve you." Jorah said softly.

Dany watched the knight with such a mixture of fear and admiration in her face, that it awoke something fierce in Jon's chest. He'd seen the way she greeted the man, up on the cliff, like she was never so happy to see a person. She'd touched him, embraced him.

"The free folk will help us," Jon announced, in an effort to pull her attention away. "They know the North better than anyone."

Ser Davos scoffed, "They won't follow Ser Jorah."

"They won't have to." Jon answered readily.

It had worked. At last the young queen noticed him again. But Daenerys face fell in such dismay that pretty soon Jon couldn't look at it anymore. He had not considered that she was losing something, only to do at least as much as Ser Jorah intended. How could he just let everyone go off and do something, while he did nothing?

"You can't lead a raid," Ser Davos told him, "You aren't in the Nights Watch anymore, you're King in the North!"

Jon turned to his Hand, "I'm the only one here who's fought them. I'm the only one here who knows them."

Suddenly the Queen found her voice, though it was rather shaky. "I haven't given you permission to leave."

Jon heard it, and knew the time to address the invisible wall between them, had come.

"With respect, your Grace. I don't need your permission. I am a king." Her eyes grew ever so slightly, but he pressed on, "I came here, knowing you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you. A stranger. Because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all our people. Now I'm asking you to trust in a stranger." She sat very still watching him, breathing shakily. "Because it's our best chance."

It must have been difficult for her, Jon imagined, losing her council one by one, and when she glanced over at Tyrion, the Lannister seemed to say, Trust him. At last, she turned back to Jon and nodded once, by way of release. Then abruptly she pushed back out of her chair and strode to the balcony, and this was her way of dismissing the council meeting. There was a rush of action, as each person suddenly had a task to perform, but Jon was reluctant to leave the young queen, despite how indifferently she turned her back on them.

"We will return, Your Grace." he said.

She didn't turn around. "Will you." she said with no emotion. It was not a question, and it's tone made him aware of how very alone she was, looking out over the sea. For the first time he considered she might have been keeping him there because she wanted to, and not for political reasons. But there was a job to do, and Jon felt alive with sudden purpose. And then, Jorah Mormont, the gruff old knight was near the doorway, ready to comfort the queen, and that realization made Jon stride out of the council chamber at once.

"I don't think I'll ever understand Queens." Jon mentioned to Davos, as he walked down with him to the shore.

Davos laughed, "Women more like, Yer Grace."

"Some women are easier to know then others."

"Aye, but do you really know them, or are they just wantin ye to know them?"

Jon grimaced. That was already too complicated to think about. "She wants action, she wants to fight, but she doesn't want anyone else to at the same time." he complained, in a low tone in case some of those Dothraki brutes were around.

Ser Davos glanced at Jon. "Beggin your pardon, but ye can be rather daft, ye know."

Jon stopped in the path, "Tell me what I am missing then."

"Well now." Davos smiled, as though very pleased to. "Just because she's a queen does not mean she don't have all the same feelings a young girl has. An a boy her age comes waltzin in, spends the better part of three months romancin her, and then sets off again at the first mention of a fight!"

Jon shook his head, amused. "Romancing? Who's romancing?"

"You great oaf."

"Really Davos," Jon began to walk again, to escape the discomfort of what Davos said, "The queen has no feelings for me. How could she? I'm a bastard rebel from the North."

"A King," Davos pressed, "Her age. Unmarried, and attractive, or so I've heard said."

Jon walked on, but troubled.

"Who else is she to match with, huh?" Davos carried on, following Jon down the steps. "The brother of Cersei, the Kingslayer? Someone from Dorne? The old knight Jorah-'

"She never once indicated that she was looking for a King to marry, Davos." Jon said quickly. "Only to bend the knee to her."

"And with what you know of her by now, do you think it likely she would throw away such an alliance. One that was months in the making?"

Jon stopped along the path, and glanced up at the castle. Maybe she was still up there, staring down. He wasn't sure, but if the last time he saw her face had already passed, then he had to admit to himself, that he burned with regret. He wasn't ready to embrace everything Davos was saying to him, because suppose it wasn't true. But then, her face... her eyes were so sad, Jon tried to shake away the image, in vain. I will never forget her face as long as I live, and with where I am about to go, that may not be very long.

"I go now, to the city of my birth." Ser Davos said. "But while I'm gone ye might let yer mind think on these things eh? Before we go off in a boat to the Northern wastes."

"No amount of thinking will change the fact that we need a wight if we're to convince anyone."

Davis scowled, and near to the little boat now, he nodded at Jon. "Farewell then. Gods know why you are so eager to leave this lovely place."

Jon smiled, "Be safe Ser Davos." He walked back to the cave with many things in his mind, and some guilt weighing on his heart, but mostly with excitement to not be waiting for something to happen anymore.