citdel

Jon/Daenerys fanfiction: Brave enough to yield

Summary: Jon Snow comes to visit Daenerys at Dragonstone after the events of Season 6, and learns of his true parentage. He and Daenerys are both stubborn, and find it difficult to trust each other. A shared tragedy brings them closer together. Told from Daenerys’s point of view.

A/N: I’ll be updating this as @myrish-lace-love.

***

Jon had refused to kneel, when he first came to Dragonstone. He’d stood before her, in well-tailored furs clearly made by someone else’s hand, and simply declined. Dany had been insulted. She was also intrigued. How many men would refuse the Mother of Dragons, the most beautiful woman in the world?

Stubbornness ran deep in Jon, she soon learned. She’d had the idea to form an alliance with him, and seduce him, as soon as she heard of his visit. She’d plotted as he traveled from Winterfell, with Tyrion’s help.

“He’ll be as intractable as a mule. Slightly more handsome, though,” Tyrion had told her, and winked.

Tyrion had been right. Jon promised his army with some reluctance, but he was cold to her advances. It stung more than she expected. She wasn’t immune to loneliness herself. She’d felt a childish swelling of hope when she’d learned that she might not be the last of her line, that another dragon might walk the earth. But Jon kept her mostly at a distance, though she saw him staring at her once or twice. Perhaps there was some truth to the saying that Northern men had ice in their veins.

Jon took to Rhaegal, at least. Dany envied how quickly he’d developed a bond with the beast. It had taken her months to feel the presence of Drogon’s mind, once he was fully grown. Jon had managed to connect with the green dragon in a matter of days. It had made her job of convincing him of his true heritage easier. That, and Varys’s scroll from Howland Reed had left Jon with no room for doubt.

Jon himself might not say much, but the news he brought of the terror north of the Wall had turned Dany’s mission on its head. She’d sailed across the Narrow Sea prepared to do battle in Westeros. She’d arrived on shore ready to take what was hers, as was her right, and reclaim the Iron Throne at King’s Landing. Then Jon confirmed Varys’s whispers of the White Walkers, and the wights, and priorities had shifted to protecting the realm. They needed weapons, and weapons, according to Jon, meant fire, and dragonglass.

***

Fire, and powerful fire at that, they had in abundance, thanks to Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion. But the dragonglass was more elusive. Dozens of Unsullied had scoured the castle and come back empty-handed. Dany was not a patient woman by nature, and was ready to move on. Yet Tyrion insisted they search the caverns beneath Dragonstone once more.

“I’ll hear no more about dragonglass, Lord Tyrion.” Dany tucked into their meager breakfast. The stores of food were depleting fast. But she’d traveled enough under rough conditions to eat whatever was before her.As she saw Jon scrape his plate clean, she thought the same might be true of him.

Tyrion had a more discerning palate, and picked at the stale bread and hard cheese with distaste. “We need all the weapons we can find, my queen.”

Dany rolled her eyes. Would Tyrion not let this go? “Has it slipped your mind, Lord Tyrion, the days we’ve spent searching arrived?”

“Hardly, Your Grace. But I did receive an interesting raven just this morning. Apparently we haven’t been looking in the right place.” Tyrion, naturally, made a show of revealing his secret. He brought the scroll out from under his green tunic with a flourish.

Dany didn’t recognize the seal. “Who sent it?”

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RP CONTINUED

PREVIOUSLY

Airlea thought for a while. Truth be told, she had no idea what she was going to wear: sh just wanted to commemorate this occasion and make an effort: being in a short sleeved shirt, hoodie and jeans wasn’t exactly going to cut it - it was far to casual and, although she would feel more comfortable, she wanted to look the part. Even if it was for one night; forget that she was his blade and actually try to fit the bill of girlfriend. Because, to be frank, it wasn’t exactly ‘right’ to be with him. You know. Prince and sort of commoner-who-grew-up-with-him-in-the-citdel was kinda frowned up in the real world.

“Well, it depends what’s there.” Honestly, that was her way of shopping for clothes. “But a red dress - crimson or closer to like an ox blood colour - that’s sort of clinging to my body shape but not so much that I can’t breath. I don’t really know if you’ve seen those dresses, but kinda like a dress women wear for the rhumba - but without the long leg slit thing.” 

Airlea had no idea why that dress came to her, but it did.It wasn’t even a dress she liked. “Or maybe just like  normal ballroom gown in a red colour.” She sighed. “I don’t know. I just want to look pretty and show people that I can be worthy of you. You know what I mean? I’m not exactly royalty and I’m not the Oracle or anything. I’m probably just overthinking it.” She went into one of her shopping bags and pulled out a can of energy drink. “I kinda need your input though. Oh and if you need help finding something, I’m just a shoulder tap away.” She opened her can outside the window and quickly brought it back in before a car rushed on by. 

She looked at the sun beginning to set as she took a sip of her drink. “Got a place to eat in mind? It doesn’t have to be a formal restaurant or anything: Iggy’s food being eaten in a park or something’s all good too. We’ll just need to by some lemonade or something.”


Gladio chuckled his dorkish laugh when she cheekily replied and he happily ate his noodles and drank his soft drink. But what surprised him a little more, was when she told him to get a bottle of wine - he’d never seen her drink the slightly bitter alcohol (mind you, he didn’t really drink it anyway) but he went along with it. Before she could leave though, he walked past her on his way to the wine shop and he threw a cheeky grin in her direction along with a ‘see ya later, babe’ and a kissy face (trust me, afterwards he wanted to be swallowed up by the ground). 

Upon entering the shop, he thought that maybe something sweeter would be a better thing to try: but there were so many to choose from, sweet reds, crisp wines, fruity rosés. And each of them went well with different meals: seafood, salads, red meats, white meats, christmas dinners. How was he supposed to know? t was easy to pick up a beer or an ale; but being classy was defintely not something he had a clue on. But he ony had enough to buy one. So he thought long and hard: what was often served at dates? Red wine or champagne. That was cliché. So maybe some rosé would do? He sighed and did eeny meenie miney mo in his head and picked up a white wine. He paid and he made his return to Ashaani, walking in with a sigh.

“I’m back. Where do you want it?”

@dkashaani117 (thought it would be easier to create a new post)