Wind and Words
Hi peeps I AM BACk this a piece that was requested last night by @adolescenceoxygen and here you gooo
-It’s pronounced Duh-NAIR-iss, not Deneis, like you chew it up.-
-Duh… Nei… Now I feel bad for avoiding my High Valyrian lessons.-
-You’ll learn eventually.-
-Can I plainly simply call you Dany? Or darling?-
-If we’re going to have an affair that’s going to make people look at me as if I murdered their child, you need to learn how to pronounce my name.-
He laid down on their bed.
Jon and Daenerys were in the small cabin of the ship where he was resting several weeks ago after almost freezing to death. The furs were draped comfortably over her lap, leaving the top part of her body bare, and her soft silver hair tumbling down her shoulders. She was beautiful, and her eyes were kind. He used to read tales of the Targaryens and their dragons, they seemed almighty and the tales of their beauty annoyed him in particular, considering how much he was puzzled by their might and powers, he thought how unjust it is for them to be beautiful too. He had read the tales of Rhaneyra’s sultriness, Rhaenys’ elegance and Shiera Seastar’s divine beauty, but to a little boy, those wore only words. Words of a time long gone, of people he thought he’d never see, yet here he was, admiring the beauty of Daenerys Targaryen. The curve of her lips looked just like a heart, her eyes were the shade of flowers he’d see maybe once a year, when it’s the warmest. But her hair… He’d seen many blonde women over the years. They all had almost yellow hair, but hers was the color the palest gold or silver.
She moved her head slightly, the silvery curtain following.
-Jon? Is everything all right?-
He snapped out his trance.
-Yes, it is. Daenerys.-
-You almost pronounced it right. - She softly grazed his stomach with her fingers, soft and simple strokes, barely touching his scars.
-Were you cold?-
-I’m almost always cold. What do you mean by it?-
-When you died.-
-Yes, it was very cold. Like a pair of cold hands grabbing you and pushing you downwards.-
She took his hands in hers.
For hands of death are always cold, but a woman’s hands are warm.
He lifted himself from the bed again and took her chin between his fingers, pulling them closer, forehead against forehead.
He kissed her, biting her lower lip, pulling it with his teeth. He let go and she looked at him with fire in her eyes.
-Sometimes I forget you’re a wolf.—
He bit her lip again, this time longer. They made out before they heard a bang on the door.
-Your Graces! We need you upstairs!-
-It’s the middle of the night!-
-Get dressed, then.-
They were dressing themselves and Dany was searching for her hairpins.
-I have a sudden craving for baked peaches.-
-Baked peaches? Who eats that?-
-People in Essos. They bake them with brown sugar, rum and some other spices, and there’s this amazing sauce left from them… What is wrong with me?-
-You’re probably hungry, love.-
-Probably. - She wrapped herself if one his cloaks.
-Let’s go, we have to do our duty.-
Love is the death of duty, and duty is the death of love.
Jon was seated in the Great Hall, surrounded by his sister, Lords Manderly, Royce, Umber, Glover and Lady Karstark.
-It is my sole intention to join myself in marriage with Queen Daenerys Targaryen.-
-What! - They all shouted in union.
-My King, with all respect, but the North will never accept her as Queen! Think about what her father did to your grandfather and uncle! Remember the dreadful years under the Targaryen scepter! - said Glover in revolt.
-Jon, we need to talk in private…-
-Your Grace! Do I need to remind you of the Great War?-
-My King, I know that you are in need of a Queen and wife, but a foreign woman will not benefit the North. I have two eligible daughters, Northerners, virgins, well-educated and mannered…-
Glover looked down at Manderly with disgust, but Royce took them to another level.
-The Targaryen woman cannot be trusted! I do not care how many times she has lain with you, perhaps whatever is between her legs has gained her an army…-
Jon slammed his fist on the table.
-My Lord! She is Queen in her own right, do not slander her in my presence.-
Royce bowed his head briefly, and Lady Karstark finally opened her mouth.
-I agree with them, my King. She is a foreigner, and I think it would be smarter if you married one of our own.-
Jon picked up the scroll he was hiding in his table.
-My brother, Robb, legitimized me and gave me the name Stark if he dies. So he did. And here I am.-
-Do I need to remind you what took him to an early grave?-
-This is my final decision. She has two armies, dragons and she gave us dragonglass, asking for nothing in return.-
-So you are marrying for alliance?-
-In a way, yes.-
-Do you have any honor?! Your father must be rolling in his grave now! - Shouted Glover.
-Lord Glover! – screamed Sansa.
-Enough is enough. I am marrying her.-
What is honor compared to a woman’s love?
The tapping of footsteps above him was scarring Jon. The birthing bed was a woman’s battlefield and he was not allowed to approach it. The wives of his advisors, Lady Karstark, Mormont and his sisters were waiting with him. He never dared to think he’d hold a son of his own blood in his arms when he took the black.
-Do you think I should be there with her?-
-No, my King. She has to go through it like every woman.-
And then he heard the love is life screaming. He ran up the stairs, ignoring the shouts and advice of nobility. The midwives curtsied to him and he kneeled to take the Queen’s hand. She was screaming and yelling in pain, her face was pale and covered in a coat of cold sweat, she was grabbing the edge of the bed and trying to get up. Jon realized what she wanted so he propped her up by putting her shoulders on his lap.
The room was a blur. Sounds, colors, people it all melted together until they heard the first scream and gasp of air. The little baby was rosy and wrinkled, its arms and legs kicking. The baby was still attached to the mother, then they severed the umbilical cord and handed it to the new parents.
Jon had never seen a sight so beautiful. He was landscapes out of ice, mountain tops iced with snow and all the beauty nature beyond the Wall has to offer, but nothing could beat the sight in front of him. The woman he loves holding their newborn and crying, kissing it’s head. He kissed the both and the nurse took the boy from her arms and proceed to clean him.
Jon kissed Dany’s hands, lips and eyes and whispered words of thanks and love, she smiled faintly and told him she’s really tired and worn out and that she needs some sleep. They kissed again and the nurse gave the prince to the King, who spent some more time until she drifted off to sleep. She stirred in the bed, stretching her arms.
Jon was staring at his son. He was tiny, he realized it’s been ages since he saw a babe. He only saw Rickon when he was 7 months old, and he doesn’t recall the rest of his siblings. The child was asleep, safe in his father’s arms. Following tradition, he went to present the newborn prince to the lords.
They started clapping and admiring the boy, who opened his deep blue, almost violet eyes for the first time.
-What a blessing… Almost makes us forget about the upcoming war…-
What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms?
Jon was so fond of spring. The warm sun and the fresh flowers, the laughter of people outside, the singing of the birds, but mostly, the faces of his family laughing on the grass. Dany was lying in a bed flowers between their daughters, his sons jumping around and playing with wooden swords and paper dolls, then his youngest approached him and gave him a hug. Dany got up and waved at him to come over, the soft warm spring bringing the long awaited balance.
We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy,