the jon's horse


Ha, yeah. I’m always with horses. Like, War Horse was my first job, and I was with a puppet horse, and then I was Jon Snow with horses there, and then in this, I’ve got like a weird bond with horses. I’m kind of a horse whisperer, I don’t know what it is. I’m not great on a horse. I’m getting better, but I’m not brilliant. So yeah, I’ve spent a lot of time with horses. They’re great creatures, I love them. I do love riding them when I get the chance to. - Kit Harington

The Stag and The Bastard

IMAGINE: Being the younger sister of Robert, Stannis and Renly and meeting Jon Snow in the kitchens during the feast. 

[gif is not mine. creds to the owner. part of the poetry series, this time it’s based off lang leav’s ‘someone like you’.] 

warnings: none

words: 2.0k +

‘Do you think there is the possibility of you and I? In this lifetime, is that too much to hope for?…’

She could feel the stares of the people as she walked into the hall, nevertheless she kept walking her chin held up high. (Y/N) knew why they were staring. Of course it was very uncommon for such a highborn lady to not wear dresses, but it was so trivial. She could hear Robert’s voice from the end of the hall, she could practically see Cersei rolling her eyes at her husband’s behaviour.  

“Sister!” She looked at her brother at the centre of the table, gesturing for her to hurry along and break her fast with them.

“Brother,” she greeted him when she was close enough. She walked past the Stark and the Baratheon children. She wasn’t older than them by any means, basically the same age as Robb but nonetheless she was royalty.

“Why are you dressed like a man?” Renly spoke, smirking when he saw his sister’s reaction.

“I’m going around Winterfell today to see what there is,” she looked around at the faces. Robert looked on with interest as well as Cersei, Stannis looked indifferent and Renly just looked amused. “As well as around the North.”

“Do you have an escort my lady?” Catelyn spoke from her far left. “We have plenty of escorts to show you around.”

(Y/N)’s gaze turned to Cat, she smiled softly and shook her head. “Thank you, but I already have an escort. A suitable one, one that I chose myself.”

“Who is it?”

“Jon Snow,” she could practically feel the anger radiate from Cat as soon as she said that name. (Y/N) smiled at her, this time with an all knowing smile, without another word she took her seat and sat beside Renly.

“You’re stirring things up sister,” Renly whispered softly.

“I’m not,” she responded. Renly gave her a knowing look. “Okay, maybe I am but I’m not intentionally doing it.”

“How did you even get to meet Jon Snow? How did you get him as the escort?”

“So many questions brother,” (Y/N) twirled her fork and looked at the table below them. She looked for the familiar black hair but knowing better. Of course he wasn’t at the table with them. He was probably alone outside, or maybe he was inside a barn? Or in the kitchens, much like he was last night.

The clanging sounds of pots and pans echoed across the narrow hall where (Y/N) walked, she could see the faint light of the kitchens. A booming laugh echoed across the hall, knowing that it came from her over joyous brother from the feast behind her.

“Your Highness?” A servant stood before, curtsying. “Is something the matter?”

(Y/N) softly smiled, “No.” She pointed to the room where the light was coming from, “Is this the kitchens?”

“Yes my lady,” (Y/N) nodded ending the conversation. The servant curtsied again and hurried off.

(Y/N) walked towards the kitchen, she could hear the conversations that were being held. She heard her name being mentioned, with quiet movements she moved to the alcove just before it.

“I’m telling you Myl, that girl is no Highborn woman, nor a Princess,” a woman with a gruff voice sounded. “The way that she holds herself, she’s more interested in cajoling with the men and knights than being properly trained as a royal. I hear that she’s the black sheep in that family.” (Y/N) could imagine the tittering imbeciles edging in closer trying to catch up on the latest gossip while they make the food. 

(Y/N) clenched her fist together, she’s heard this over the years of course. She preferred to be in the company of men as she wanted to fight, not what everyone else seem to think so. She’s heard the whispers, the rumours from servants to noble people alike. But she was never the black sheep of the family. When she said that she would rather fight and train with the soldiers, her brothers had reservations it wasn’t until Jaime Lannister came to her aid and supported her. From then on she’s become one of the fiercest and merciless fighters of Westeros.

“That’s why she’s called the Iron Princess,” another voice joined in. “She has no mercy. No sympathy, she’s more like a Lannister than a Baratheon. She’s a whore too I hear.” There was more that the woman was going to say but she was interrupted when a voice yelled out ‘enough’.

“You mustn’t say things like that,” she’s heard that voice before. Earlier in the day. “She’s different aye, but that does not matter. If she hears you saying things like this then we’ll see if she has mercy or not.” She could hear the sounds of his shoes as he walked around the room. “Even then if rumours are circulated around it won’t be just her who would be spiteful, it will be her brothers and the Lannisters, even my father.”

It was true of course, what he just said. She was loved by her brothers, and she was loved by the Lannisters. Tywin practically raised her when her father died.

“Be careful what you say around here. Now go on, I think it’s the next course you wouldn’t want them to be waiting now do you?” She could hear all of their feet move across the floor, she burrowed herself to the wall when they passed, strangely enough they were all quiet.

“Thank you for that,” (Y/N) said softly as she walked into the kitchens. She saw Jon jump a little bit and held in her laugh. She watched as he turned around almost tripping over his own feet.

“Your Highness,” he bowed.


“I beg your pardon?”

She walked towards him, “I don’t like titles. We’re all the same when we’re buried in the ground,” she shrugged. “Although dead kings garner more respect and admiration than actual living people.”

“I’m sorry for what they said. They hear rumours and they speculate.”

She shrugged, “I’ve heard far worse from far worse people Jon Snow, no worries.” (Y/N) walked along the bench, scrunching her nose up at the various smells and dirtiness of the kitchen. “Some rumours do tend to stem from the truth,” he looked at her, his dark eyes following her every move. She looked at him and smirked, “Some rumours. Not all though.”

Jon cleared his throat, not believing that (Y/N) Baratheon the most sought out person in all of the Seven Kingdoms was here with him, the bastard of Winterfell. “How does one weave out the lies and find the truth?”

She tapped her lip with her finger and thought for a moment. “If they know you well enough, love you or care for you, they know.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you here with me?”

(Y/N) stared at him, “I didn’t want to be here with you.”

Jon looked down, she sighed, “I meant that I come to the kitchens sometimes so I can be alone and eat,” she grinned at him. “The company that I have right now is an added bonus. The good kind.”

“But I’m a bastard, the bastard,” Jon emphasized. He knew that he was treated far worse than the usual bastards because he was Ned Stark’s.

“And?” She sat down at one of the stools and gestured for him to do the same. “I don’t care if you’re a bastard, Ned Stark’s or not. I told you, I hate figurative titles.” (Y/N) looked at the plate of pies, took it and passed one to Jon. “Now to lighter topics, what is there to see about the dreary and grey North?”

“I could show you tomorrow, if you’d like.” Jon offered as gratefully took the pie from her.

(Y/N) chewed her pie slowly and stared at Jon, enjoying making him squirm as he waits for her answer. Finally she swallowed the piece and poured herself some wine. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer Jon Snow,” she said before she sipped the wine.

There is something so delicate about this time, so fragile. And if nothing ever comes of it, at least I have known this feeling, this wonderful sense of optimism…’ 

“Sister?” Renly gently nudged her with his elbow. She shook herself out of her thoughts and looked at her brother. “You were far away all of a sudden.”

She smiled cordially at him, “Just remembering dear brother, no need to worry.”

Renly huffed, “I wasn’t worried. I just thought you were going insane.”

(Y/N) took another forkful of sausage in her mouth, took her napkin and gently dabbed away the grease. She looked towards the entrance of the hall and saw that Jon appeared. He seemed hesitant to walk towards her but she nodded at him and started walking. (Y/N) stood up, her chair scraping across the floors as she walked down the steps to greet Jon.

“What are you doing here?” Cat looked at Jon, disdain still in her eyes and her voice.

Jon looked at (Y/N) then at Cately, then at the rest of the table. Each pair of eyes now directed at him. “I invited him.” He heard (Y/N)’s voice coming from his right and he smiled at her. “He’s my guest.”

(Y/N) stood next to Jon, linking her arms with him. She looked at his face and smiled, then turned to the table and arched a brow, silently asking if they had any objections.

“A bastar-,” Cately’s words were taken from her mouth as Robert laughed.

“The more the merrier!” He knew that if Catelyn finished her words, his sister’s temper would flare up and as amusing it would be he still liked Catelyn, and it would cause some tension if his sister accidentally hurt her.

“Come Jon,” she led him to sit next to her. “Break your fast then you show me what the North has to offer.” Jon could feel the stares of everyone as he sat down. He smiled meekly at Robb and Arya who were staring at him unflinchingly.

…It is something I can always keep close to me -to draw from in my darkest hour like a ray of unspent sunshine…’ 

As he prepared the saddles for the horses, Jon felt a presence behind him, he turned around and saw that it was Jaime Lannister, in his golden glory. “I don’t know what you’re doing with (Y/N), but if you harm her in anyway I’ll be forced to kill you in her honour.” Jaime passed the bag that Jon needed. “And it won’t just be my wrath that you have to watch out for.” He nodded towards Tywin who was conversing with Littlefinger and Ned on the other side of the courtyard.

Jon nodded and swallowed the nervousness that he was feeling. He knew that (Y/N) was one of the most beloved people in Westeros and if he certainly did hurt her then nothing could ever save him, not even all of the Gods.

He watched as (Y/N) came out of the castle, still in her outfit from the morning, her dark hair flowing behind her. He spotted the Queen walking beside her and watched as they conversed quietly. 

“Be careful (Y/N), the North is harsh and unforgiving.”

“Much like the Lannisters, Cersei, I will be fine.” She hugged her goodsister and bid her farewell. (Y/N) walked towards Jon as he held the two reins, passing one to her. “Are you ready Jon?”

He nodded and waited for her to saddle up, then joined her. Jon looked back at the courtyard, he could feel their stares, waiting for him to mess up but alas he did not. He looked at Cersei, her eyes never leaving his, he nodded at her hoping that he received the message that he will not hurt her and no harm will come to her. She nodded and walked towards her father.

Jon looked at (Y/N) who was now staring at him with curious eyes, “Don’t worry Jon, I’ll make sure I won’t fall off my horse so they won’t kill you.” She gave a hearty laugh one that usually comes from Robert. He gave her a small smile. Sensing the hesitancy and nervousness, she trotted her horse towards him. “I’m too interested in you Jon Snow, to ever let any harm come to you.”

This time he smiled at her genuinely. “Now let’s go, I can’t wait to see the different shades of grey I can find in the North!” He watched as she trotted her horse to the gates. Jon looked back at everyone, this time their stares more warm than before but still cautious.

 As he rode alongside (Y/N), her words filling the cold air, he couldn’t help but feel right and complete. Even if he was a bastard, he can damn well show her how much of a man he could be. 

‘…No matter what happens next, I will always be glad to know there is someone like you in the world.’ 

warmth [oneshot]

[jon x sansa] In which Daenerys realizes that it is in the cold that true warmth lies. 


Dragonstone was cold.

It was a horrid type of cold, Jon surmised, as the sea raged outside his window. It didn’t help that the waves roiled endlessly, crashing over and over against the island’s cliffs and beaches. The winds were relentless, their howling unforgiving. Dragonstone’s cold was wet, unsettling, violent – he wondered how a man like Stannis Baratheon could have ever called it home.

“You seem uneasy, my lord.” Jon looked towards the door and saw Daenerys Targaryen standing by it. She nodded in his direction as she stepped inside, feeling quite at home to stand beside him as he surveyed the dark horizon.

“Not a surprise, in times like these.” he replied.

“Perhaps what you need is a brief respite.” Daenerys pulled a flagon of wine from the nearby table. She poured them each a cup, and offered one to him. Jon eyed it for a moment.

“Thank you.” He took the cup and nodded. “For the dragonglass, as well. The North will remember your help.”

Daenerys took a sip as a response, and once again silence settled over them. As the wine washed down her throat, she wondered what it was that she went there for. Tyrion had urged for her to get to know this King of the North, to make him feel at ease, to strengthen their relationship as allies. And as she had ascended the steps to his room, she wondered - was the alliance the only thing she wanted?


She studied him as he pondered over his cup. His fatigue was even more visible in the firelight. Scars and lines littered his face. Dark circles remained under his eyes. The wind caressed the furs that hung over his shoulders. They always seemed hunched, as if burdened with an immense, invisible weight. As he pulled another gulp, Daenerys noticed that even mid-drink, his lips were in a permanent scowl.

He was a mystery, she thought. A book she could not read. No other man had stood defiantly against her, without any trace of what it was that he was after. The men in her life were always so easy to read, easy to understand. Whether it was her beauty, affection, power, or name - they all wanted something from her, and they all couldn’t hide it. It had all been too easy to wrap them around her fingers.

But not him.

Daenerys fingered the hem of her sleeve.

Was it only dragonglass that he wanted? Her men? Surely there was something else?

“What was it that your Hand meant,” she started, eyes slowly roving all over him. There was still an air about him that she couldn’t place, even if they had been together for a fortnight. “About taking a knife to the heart?”

“Pay it no mind, Your Grace.” He muttered.

Daenerys took to her wine. “I am certain he wouldn’t have mentioned it if it bore no gravity.”

“It was only a trivial curiosity.”

The winds howled, the waves crashed, but Jon said no more. Daenerys sighed; no matter how warmly she approached him or how much she tried to pry, Jon never replied on the same plane. His replies were always clipped, always barely answering her questions. The topic of the knife-to-heart was one he always evaded. Other than that, she had managed to wean out small bits of information from him – his position as a bastard, as Lord Commander, as King in the North. She foraged for tiny scraps about the Starks – his family, his brothers, his sisters. He’d always dwell on his sisters.

But that was the most she could get out of him. He would always end with a strangely loaded thought, often with ‘I’m not a Stark.’ And quickly, he’d turn the conversation to her, ask about her conquests, and before long she’d realize she had done all the talking.

A beat had to pass before Daenerys had thought of what to ask next. Why was conversing with him so difficult?

“Is it this cold in the North?” she tried. Maybe getting him to talk about home would prove useful conversation.

“Well…” he started. She watched his face transform as he delved deep in thought; she then knew there something was different. His eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. His chest heaved in a heavy breath. He sighed it out and then shook his head slightly, as if dismissing a thought, and brought the cup to his mouth for a sip. But Daenerys could see it - the corners of his lips were turned upward, as if he was suppressing even the smallest of smiles.

“Winds may howl, and snow may fall,” he said. His eyes trailed off to the distance. “But even in the coldest, darkest nights…in Winterfell, there is always warmth.”


“If you want to win the Realm,” Tyrion had said, “You have to save it.”

And so, their journey northward began.

They had traveled for more than a month. Three weeks they sailed through rough seas. For almost a fortnight, they rode across Westerosi plains. The dragons would pop in and out of their sight, more likely enjoying their new terrain. It took a lot for Daenerys to stop herself from doing the same, from riding dragonback and going ahead. It also took her a lot to deny that she liked entertaining the idea of Jon riding with her. It was strange, this excitement that had lodged in her stomach.

Over the course of their travels, it became apparent to Daenerys that as the weather grew dourer, Jon became…lighter. There was no other word for it. More words came out of him. He exchanged more looks with Davos. There was even one time that she could swear Davos was smirking at his King, who only (naturally) scowled in response.

It also delighted Daenerys that they could hold better, longer conversations. Not as long as she would have liked, but they were improvements. It pleased her that Jon seemed to be more at ease – but it also worried her that there were times that he looked troubled, deep in thought.

“Do you think he has warmed up to me?” Daenerys found herself asking, surprising Tyrion, who was riding by her side. Her eyes were on the retinue that rode a few meters ahead. She could easily pick Jon out, with his gathered hair and broad, fur-covered shoulders.

“Your Grace?”

“Has he warmed up to me?” she repeated. She looked to her other side, at Missandei, for acknowledgement. “You do know him best, Tyrion. I am just… concerned, of course. We do need this alliance to be fruitful.”

Tyrion gave a noncommittal ‘hmm’ and glanced at his Queen before replying. Missandei held a smile as they rode on. “Don’t be too worried, Your Grace,” amusement laced her Hand’s voice; she wondered at what. “He has looked like that and brooded like that ever since I met him. I believe that how he’s now initiating talk with you is a step forward.”

Daenerys nodded and pursed her lips. It was the best she could do to stop herself from grinning. Queens do not grin. But she couldn’t ignore it, the tension that flooded her nerves at the thought of their partnership – relationship – bearing fruit. This passing fancy she had tried to deny was worth her time, thankfully.

“There it is,” Tyrion said, knocking her out of her thoughts. The snow-covered plains made the looming stronghold stand darker against the grey skies. Where is the warmth in this? Daenerys thought, curious. The cold bit at them as snow fell in flurries, the wind blowing in gusts. She had half the mind that Jon must have been jesting.

But as they caught up with his retinue, dread pulled at her stomach. In the dull winter sun, Jon’s eyes glinted with yearning, trained on the holdfast that was his home.




The horns sounded. The gates creaked. The snow stifled the rhythm of their horses; Jon briefly wondered if the loud beating of his heart would be a sufficient replacement.

Fool. Jon bit back a chuckle and sighed. Only a fool would be this excited to come home to where the real war was.

“Is anything the matter?” Davos had finally asked, once they were well away from earshot. They were still quite a few ways away from Winterfell. “We’ve achieved quite a lot, but it doesn’t seem that way to you, Your Grace.”

That always takes some getting used to. Jon shrugged as he held onto his horse’s reins. “It all just takes a toll on me. This war, being king – I’m not made for it.”

“On the contrary,” Davos had smiled. “You bear it quite well.”

He was met with a heavy sigh – a Jon signature, Davos had noted.

“Might I offer some advice?” He had peered at his king. Jon had nodded.

“I always believe it’s good to allow yourself even a small reward,” Davos had said. His words were a welcome comfort in the cold. “There will always be problems to face, troubles to overcome. But those small rewards you give yourself may very well be the fuel you need to keep going.”

Jon had glanced at his Hand. Could he really allow himself those small rewards, in the midst of this war? Is it not selfish of me to want such a trivial thing?

The discomfort steeped in his mind as they cleared the forest. It grew as the castle formed in the horizon. By the time their horses tore through the powdered plains, it was stifling. Heavy. Suffocating. His heart beat quickly, laboring against an unfounded pressure in his chest.

Can I not want such a small reward?


The horns sounded. The gates creaked. The snow stifled the rhythm of their horses. Jon’s heart pumped blood against his eardrums. He didn’t care for the Queen he was escorting, the dragons that were nowhere to be seen, the trailing foreign army that he longed to leave. As his steed galloped into the courtyard, his eyes could only search for what he had left behind.

Jon slid off his horse and searched the ramparts. His men, Wildling or not, milled in to see the arrival of their king. They lined the courtyard and stood still in respect. Nothing good comes of a Stark who ventures South, they said, but there he was.

No, he thought, as a true smile broke on his lips. Here we are.


First came Arya. She had grown maybe twice her size the last time he had seen her. It warmed his heart to see his gift, Needle, hanging off her hip. She had tried to compose herself in front of the crowd, of their people, but she still broke into a run and launched herself at him.

Next was Bran. He sat on a wheeled chair, silent, observing, but there was a tiny bit of warmth in his eyes as Jon embraced him. Tears nearly brimmed Jon’s eyes – he never thought he’d see Bran again.

As he let go of his younger brother, Jon eyed the ramparts. He had a lot of questions for his siblings, but there was another matter that needed his attention.

Small rewards, the phrase repeated in his head as he looked for her fire-colored hair, the tinkling of her chains, the trails of her dress. He turned around, searching, anxious as joy and guilt clashed inside him, as violent as Dragonstone’s seas.

Please -

As the rest of their party filed into Winterfell, he saw her. Bright red against the greys, warm against the cold. Her ice blue eyes bore straight through him, rekindling a warmth in his chest.


His body moved of its own accord. With a few steps and a rush of furs and leather, she was in his arms, smelling of wood, of parchment, of snow. Of home. Jon let out a breath he didn’t know he held. Joy bested his worry and guilt; it flooded his nerves as he held her close.

Fool, Jon thought, as he tightened his arms around her waist. He felt her breath hitch in her chest, felt her smile against his shoulder. He dared not question the happiness that filled him as she burrowed her face to the crook of his neck. He’ll face his demons another day.

“Thank the gods.” Her prayer was as soft as a whisper.

Jon could only smile as she melted in his embrace. Her weight against him would be the only burden he’d ever be thankful for.

Only a fool would consider this a small reward.


She was the fire that was to set ice ablaze. She was the beacon that was to tear through the darkness. But as they set afoot Winterfell - the key to her victory - what met her, instead of adoration, was a strange sense of defeat.

Winds may howl, and snow may fall, Jon Snow’s words came back to her as she watched him revel in his reunions. Daenerys swallowed a bitterness that rose up to her throat. The cold dread in her stomach matched the wintry wind, the furious snow.

She held back her breath. There was no time to bother with these trivialities, she told herself, but the loss was hard to ignore. The stillness and serenity of this foreign, northern cold only amplified it. Mocked it.

But even in the darkest, coldest nights…

She could see her, his fire - strong, warm, glowing bright as he held her in his arms.


…there is always warmth.


A/N: It has BEEN A WHILE since I churned out fic! I felt so bad after these leaks, I needed a fix-it fic. Which is like…I don’t know. I just word-vomited 2k, basically. Haha! Let’s fight the good Jonsa fight - it hasn’t officially sunk yet, right? :)  

Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow, parallels.
  • Both are orphans. Both lost their fathers before their birth, during Robert’s Rebellion, and both mothers died bringing them into the world.
  • They were smuggled away from their place of birth - Daenerys went in exile to Essos, Jon was carried to Winterfell. They both suffered abuse: Jon by Catelyn, and Daenerys by Viserys (Daenerys case is much worse of course). Dany was in the shadow of Viserys; Jon was in the shadow of Robb.
  • As Daenerys is sold to Drogo and starts her life with the strange culture of the Dothraki, Jon joins the Night’s Watch and struggles to adapt to the law standards of the life at the Wall. Later Jon has to join the Wildlings, the “savages of Westeros”, just as the Dothraki are the “savages of Essos”.
  • misslalwen also pointed that both Jon’s and Daenerys’ journeys in ASOIAF start with a feast: Jon’s very first chapter is the feast at Winterfell, when he takes the crucial life-changing decision of joining the Night’s Watch. Daenerys’s very first chapter is the preparation for her wedding feast with Khal Drogo; her second chapter is the feast itself. It happens at the same time as Jon’s story.
  • Their first love relation: Daenerys was sold and raped by Khal Drogo; just as Jon was forced into his relation with Ygritte - he had to sleep with her under threat on his life. Mance made it clear that if Jon doesn’t sleep with Ygritte, he would kill him (as it would mean that Jon remains true to his Night’s Watch vows and therefore is a Crow).

Yet every night, some time before the dawn, Drogo would come to her tent and wake her in the dark, to ride her as relentlessly as he rode his stallion. He always took her from behind, Dothraki fashion, for which Dany was grateful; that way her lord husband could not see the tears that wet her face, and she could use her pillow to muffle her cries of pain. When he was done, he would close his eyes and begin to snore softly and Dany would lie beside him, her body bruised and sore, hurting too much for sleep.

“I never asked you to lie for me.”

“I never did,” she said. “I left out part, is all.”

“You said - ”

“ - that we fuck beneath your cloak many a night. I never said when we started, though.” The smile she gave him was almost shy. “Find another place for Ghost to sleep tonight, Jon Snow. It’s like Mance said. Deeds is truer than words.”

  •  Both Jon and Daenerys develop affection to their companions.
  • When Drogo and Ygritte die, it’s in the hands of Daenerys and Jon. 
  • Both Jon and Daenerys feel guilty about their lost first loves, and mourn them.
  • Both Daenerys and Jon rose to power quickly, and at a very young age. Daenerys is Queen of Meereen at 15, Jon is made Lord Commander at 16. Note that it happens at the same time: Daenerys takes up residence in Meereen and becomes Queen, while Jon becomes Lord Commander, both at the end of Storm of Swords.
  • They are the two best examples of young leaders in the novels. How they rule, the difficulties they are facing, the trials they undergo. Their stories illustrate the battle against their inexperiences and will to move forward “kill the boy and let the man be born” “if I look back, I’m lost”.
  •  Daenerys was offered the chance to return to Westeros, but she decied to stay in Meereen to rule and help her people. Jon was offered to be made a Stark of Winterfell, but he refused because he knows he has a duty to the Night’s Watch, and because he feels that as a bastard, he doesn’t have morally the right to be Lord of Winterfell.
  • Both want the best for all the sides, and both struggle to be accepted by those they rule. They both turn their attention to the outcasts of the society,to those other people refused: Jon cares for the Wildling, and is the first Lord Commander in history to make peace with them and allow them to cross the Wall; while Daenerys releases thousands of enslaved people and does everything she can to keep them alive.
  • Both faced assassination attempts, by those who disagreed with their ways of ruling. While Daenerys escaped her poisoned locusts by luck, Jon is stabbed by his Brothers. And again, these events happens at the same time, at the end of A Dance with Dragons.
  • Both are connected to magical legendary beasts: a direwolf for Jon, and 3 dragons for Daenerys.
  • Both think of their family they never knew: Jon quite a lot of his mother, and Daenerys of Rhaegar and Aerys, and her ancestors.
  • Daenerys feels the need to carry her Targaryen lineage and fulfill the duty to her House, Jon also want to impress his adoptive father Eddard. 

He was no true Stark, had never been one … but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three.

“Remember who you are, Daenerys,” the stars whispered in a woman’s voice. “The dragons know. Do you?”

  • Daenerys tries to think of Rhaegar as her idol, while Jon’s idol was Daeron Targaryen the Young Dragon.

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse.

When Jon had been a boy at Winterfell, his hero had been the Young Dragon, the boy king who had conquered Dorne at the age of fourteen. Despite his bastard birth, or perhaps because of it, Jon Snow had dreamed of leading men to glory just as King Daeron had, of growing up to be a conqueror

  • Both are gentle and kind people. And both are very melancholic
  • Finally, Daenerys’ prophecy from the House of the Undying:

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. … mother of dragons, bride of fire …

 The obvious reference to Jon (blue flower in a Wall of ice) is part of the prophecy concerning Daenerys’ love interests, symbolised by the word “bride”. 

  •  And there are subtle foreshadowings when Jon and Daenerys think of the magical beast of the other (unbeknown to them of course)

He might as well wish for another thousand men, and maybe a dragon or three. - Jon, A Storm of Swords

Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. - Daenerys, A Dance with Dragons

And I am sure there are more parallels, perhaps less obvious. Parallel lines are meant to never meet, but in the case of Jon and Daenerys, I feel these lines are sliding straight toward each other.

woman in doubt

little jon/sansa fic, for how i imagine their reunion might be like. or a fic that shows jon and sansa’s relationship through dany’s eyes.

When Daenerys finally arrives in the North, she finds Winterfell sorely disappointing.

It’s dark, looming towers surrounded by black trees and ice give an aura of unforgiving chill and rigidness. When she says as much to Jon Snow, he gives her a short bark of laughter. “Yes, your Grace, it is so different from the warmth and comfort of Dragonstone, wouldn’t you say?”

To her side, Tyrion attempts (and then fails) to muffle a snicker and she shoots him a dark glare.

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Since I haven´t been satisfied with any of these AUs, I decided to make my own:

1) Some Hogwarts-uniforms as displayed by Margaery and Loras

2) Dany with Silver (who she was not supposed to name) and her Beauxbatons classmates Jhiqui and Irri along for the ride

3) Robb and his assortment of Hufflepuffs - He might have a problem

4) Triwizard champions: Jon, Val and Aegon; but once she´s old enough to participate, that cup will go to Dany 

Another Grey Girl Meta

and surprising new evidence for Jonsa. 

(If you want to see it, scroll down to the “Two Snowflakes Dancing” section).

This is another loooooong meta that I will have to break up into two separate posts. 

I know this is not the only grey girl meta out there. Unfortunately I’m very bad at searching for metas on Tumblr. So, if you have written a meta of your own about the grey girl, please send me a private message and I will link to it in this post!

Part I

Mel is at the Wall, where she feels like her magic is more powerful. Her main goal, it appears, is to birth shadow babies to fight the Others:

She was stronger at the Wall, stronger even than in Asshai. Such shadows as I bring forth here will be terrible, and no creature of the dark will stand before them. - Melisandre, ADwD

Mel wants Jon to trust her. It appears that trust is part of the spell of making these shadow babies, otherwise why not just rape him? I believe the sex has to be consensual. Therefore, she wants to convince Jon that her powers are real, that they can help him, and that he is making a mistake in not trusting her:

“Your Wall is a queer place, but there is power here, if you will use it. Power in you, and in this beast [Ghost]. You resist it, and that is your mistake. Embrace it. Use it. I can show you how. The Lord of Light in his wisdom made us male and female, two parts of a greater whole. In our joining there is power. Power to make life. Power to make light. Power to cast shadows.” - Jon, ADwD

Gawd Mel, your pickup lines are the worst! Her motive in telling Jon about the grey girl is to gain his trust, so that she can use him for sex, which she thinks will give her powerful shadows to fight the Others. Jon isn’t buying it (smart guy).

However, the closest she comes to convincing him is when Ghost appears to like her. Jon finds that odd. Then she tells him he casts a long, dark shadow upon the Wall, and he appears to start putting his hopes in her hands because he sees her power:

“Every man who walks the earth casts a shadow on the world. Some are thin and weak, others long and dark. You should look behind you, Lord Snow.” said Melisandre. “The moon has kissed you and etched your shadow upon the ice twenty feet tall.”

Jon glanced over his shoulder. The shadow was there, just as she had said, etched in moonlight against the Wall. A girl in grey on a dying horse, he thought. Coming here, to you. Arya. He turned back to the red priestess. Jon could feel her warmth. She has power.- Jon, ADwD

Jon does eventually succumb to the tale she spins about his sister, sending Mance out to find her. Jon is lonely, homesick, and worries about her. Unfortunately he won’t help her at the end of Dance, since we know it’s not really his sister (fake Arya is Jeyne Poole, Sansa’s friend at Winterfell). That is the first red herring. Then there is a second. How did Mel get both of these wrong? The answer is, she didn’t. Let’s examine the chapter where she talks about the vision.

A Girl as Grey as Ash

It is important to note that we do not see her original vision, just her memory of it recounted in a flashback:

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This is my one-shot for what I think will happen in episode 6 between Jon and Dany. This has major spoilers, so read at your own risk.

Pairing: Jon/Daenerys 

The wall looked eerily beautiful during the early moonlight hours. What a bewitchingly beautiful disguise for what the wall represented? Was this giant block of ice supposed to protect the realm from the icy death that lay ahead? After what Dany had just witnessed, she knew the wall wouldn’t stop these monsters.

She had arrived at Eastwatch-By-The-Sea on Drogon’s back with Rhagael not far behind. The odd group of men with her. The Hound, Beric Donndarian, Ser Jorah Mormont, and Tormund Giantsbane were quite the characters as they sat quietly around the small wooden bench. The whole ride from beyond the wall back to Eastwatch was silent. Drogon coasted through the winter chill with a speed faster than normal. It had only taken an hour to arrive back at dingy old castle that sat carved into the massive wall of ice. So much had been lost in the last day.

Dany faced the window so the men wouldn’t see the tears strolling down her face. Her normally regal hairstyle of braids riddled with snow and dirt and her dressed ripped to almost shreds, but she didn’t care. She could feel Ser Jorah’s eyes on her back, but he knew better than to disturb her.

Jorah watched Dany as she looked out the window overlooking the moon. He knew that his queen was suffering and there wasn’t much he could do about it. Jorah knew the loss of one of her children must be weighing heavy on her heart. He had been there when Viseron had been brought to life when Dany had walked out Khal Drogo’s pyre without a burn on her body.

Jorah hadn’t expected to be chasing after ice zombies when he returned to his Khalessi, but he would serve her wherever she would go. He volunteered to go by himself to catch one of these wights. She had a look of shock on her face when he offered, but a look of resignation that she would accept his proposal for it had to be done.

Jon Snow butted in on his proposal and offered to go as well. Wasn’t this Jorah’s time to finally win his Khalessi’s heart? He had been overshadowed by Drogo, and then the cunt Daario. Finally, when she had crossed the sea and Daario had stayed behind, Jorah believed his affections might be returned. He had gone to the ends of the earth to cure his greyscale to get back to his queen. When he arrived on the cliff top to greet his queen, this so called “King in the North” was talking to her. Jorah knew right then; his chances were shot to hell…again.

Jorah had noticed Dany’s affection for Jon Snow the moment he laid eyes on them together. He had seen Jon Snow shared this affection when he bitterly scoured at him when Dany embraced him. Jorah noticed every time Dany would look at Jon when he proposed his plan to lead the suicide mission she’d have the look of a woman lost. Jorah had seen this look on his Queen before, when her Khal was on the brink of death. This look he had seen, but something different lie underneath her eyes when she said farewell to Jon Snow on the beach at Dragonstone. Stone cold fear was lying underneath her violet gaze. Jorah realized then that Dany didn’t just care for Jon Snow, she was in love with him. That’s why she risked her life by coming with her three dragons beyond the wall to rescue them all.

As disappointed that he was that his love would never be returned, he felt pity for her. He never wanted to see his Queen in such despair. He knew her sadness came from the death of her beloved child, but now that she believed Jon to be gone she had lost all hope. All Jorah could do was be there to comfort and support her when she needed it.

This lost love would be one his queen would never return from.

“What in the seven hells do we do now? “Tormund said with a sad sigh. Tormund didn’t care for much, but Jon Snow had become one of this best friends. He took a chug of the bitter ale.

“We do as the King commanded. He didn’t risk his life going beyond the wall for us to sit here and bitch like little cunts. Get off our fucking asses and take this walking dead man to that bitch Cersei and get the armies gathered to slaughter these dead fuckers.” The Hound stated.

“The ugly man is right. Jon would have wanted us to finish what we started. These fuckers are going to breech the wall any day now.” Tormund exaggerated.

The Hound gave him a look that could kill. “Who you calling an ugly man? You red-haired twat.”

“Will you stop with the slurs? We need to face the reality that the wights are coming for us all. This parlay with the bitch queen is our last hope.” Davos said.

“The King is dead. What hope should we have left?” Gendry said.

When Gendry said this about Jon, Daenerys turned and stormed out of the room.

“What the hell is the dragon bitch doing?” Tormund yelled.

“Will you have some respect? She saved our asses out there. If it weren’t for her and the flying beasts, we’d be ice men by now.” Beric yelled at Tormund.

Jorah stepped out of the room and followed Dany.

He found her in a small study with a desk and an old table with her head in her hands.

“My queen, do you need anything?” Jorah looked at her with sad eyes.

Dany finally looked up at Jorah with a puffy, red face and the saddest eyes he had ever seen.

“My child is dead, Ser Jorah. The man I lo..” Dany stopped herself short. “The King is dead, and it is my fault. I could have saved him.” She cried.

Jorah put a hand on Dany’s shoulder. “My queen, there is nothing you could have done. The King fell off the dragon. If we would have stayed, we all would have died. Surely he wouldn’t have wanted that?’

Dany just put her head back in her hands and cried.

Jorah knew he was going to cross the line with this question, but he had to know.

“Do you love him, My queen?”

Dany looked at Jorah with surprise in her eyes, but she didn’t try to hide the utter despair in them.

“Does it matter now?”

Suddenly screams were coming from outside the castle. Dany shot up and ran to the main hall where Gendry, Tormund, and Beric were opening the gate.

Dany couldn’t believe her eyes.

It was Jon on a horse, slouched over looking like he was on the brink of death.

Dany fainted into Ser Jorah’s arms.

Hours later, Dany came to in a small chamber. Jorah was by her side watching her intently.

She shot up with a throbbing headache.

“What happened?” Dany said in a hoarse voice.

“My Queen, please lay back down you need your rest.” Jorah pleaded.

Memories splayed across Dany’s mind as she stared at the wall.

A raven from Eastwatch. Tyrion’s pleas for her not to go. “Your our last best hope against the coming storm.” He had said. The sprint she made towards her dragons. The pounding off the seas underneath her as she rode Drogon off the cliffs of Dragonstone. The cold wind whipping against her hair as she flies as fast as the dragon could go to Eastwatch. The giant wall of ice glaring at her as she passed it. Davos staring up at her when she flew by Eastwatch. The horror as she approached the army of the dead. So, Jon had been telling the truth this whole time? She believed him, but doubt always creeped in. The screams of Thoros as the ice polar bear ripped his flesh. The flaming sword Beric was wielding towards the ice men. The dragons fire as she screamed for them to burn these monsters alive. The Hound capturing the lone wight. Drogon’s pounding roar when he reached the ground below to pick up the men. The screech Viseron made when an ice spear hit his chest. Her child sinking into a frozen lake. The horror that bloomed in her stomach as she watched her child take his last breath. Drogon and Rhagaels fiery breath on the dead men who surrounded Jon and the men. The men coming on the dragon. Jon beating a wight off him when he tried to mount onto Drogon. The feel of his hand when it slipped out of hers. Jon falling into a frozen lake. The scream that came out of her when Jon went under. “We have to go!” Tormund screamed at her. Drogon’s flapping of wings and soaring into the winter sky. The icy blue eyes of the Night King gazing into her. The feeling of hopelessness squeezing her heart. Her child gone to an icy death. The only man she ever loved taken from her before they even began. Dany cried the whole ride back to the wall.

“Where is he?” Dany yelled at Jorah.

“Khalessi, you must rest. You fainted when he arrived.”

Dany grabbed Jorah by the collar. “Where is he? I need to see him.” Dany cried.

Jorah didn’t fight with his queen. He got up and made for the King’s chambers.

Dany shot up out of the bed and followed him.

Tormund guarded the door to Jon’s room.

Dany pushed past Ser Jorah and tried to push past Tormund, but the wildlings might too much for her.

“I need to see if he’s alright!” Dany cried as she pounded her fists into Tormund’s chest.

Tormund knew there was no sense in trying to fight the fiery little queen. She had the strength of steel for someone so small. He even found himself pitying the sad woman.

“He is recovering in here.You can see him but keep your bitch mouth shut.”

Dany would have burned Tormund alive if it was any other time for calling her those words, but she didn’t care. She opened the door to the room quietly. Jorah tried to follow her, but she pushed him back.

As she entered the small room which was lit with only a small fire and candlelight, she was filled with relief. He was unconscious with bruises all over his chest and legs, but he was alive. That was all that mattered. She sat next to him and reached for his hand. She entwined her fingers with his. Tears were still streaming down her face as she looked at him. She noticed the scars that splayed all over his chest. This is what Ser Davos meant when he took a knife to the heart.

Tears fell onto this chest as she traced the jagged scars. She stopped over the one on his heart. He could have been taken from me before we even met. What vile pig had stabbed him? How had he come back to life? Her thoughts wondered to all the things he must have suffered along the way.

A hand grabbed hers as she stared at him.

“Your Grace.” Jon said as he opened his eyes and adjusted to the dimly lit room. He felt like shit. He should be dead if it weren’t for his uncle.

“Did we get the wight?” was the first thing he said to her.

Dany was just staring at him with a look of relief and happiness on her face. Her hand held his so tightly, he thought she might draw blood. Her eyes were red and tears stained her cheeks.

“Yes, the mission was a success. We have the wight.” she said in a strained voice.

He smiled a faint smile at her. She smiled sadly at him. She raised her hand and stroked the scar on his temple. He leaned into the contact.

“I thought you were dead.” She cried.

“It seems the gods don’t want me gone yet.” He replied with a slight tease in his voice.

“Don’t do that to me again.”

Jon looked at her. Her hair was bloodied and dirty, and her dress ripped to shreds. She never looked more beautiful he thought. Jon had been denying his growing feelings for her over the past few weeks. There’s no time for that. He had told Davos. That seemed like years ago.

Looking at her now, he couldn’t deny the connection between them. She had risked her life and her children to come rescue them. Gone was the cold, demanding queen who constantly asked him to bend the knee. Before him was the real Dany, a young, compassionate, strong woman. A woman who loved her people and would do anything to save the realm. He didn’t need to deny himself anymore, he was falling in love with her. Jon then remembered it.

“The dragon. I’m sorry.”

She looked away with despair, “The costs of war.”

She looked back at him with a depth of sadness in her eyes.

“My dragons are the only children I will ever have; do you understand that?”

Jon knew what she meant by this, but he didn’t care.

“Yes.” He replied with a nod of understanding.

Dany’s saddened eyes went to a determined, fierce gaze.

“I will go North with you and defeat this night king and the army of the dead. You have my word.” She said with fierce determination.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to call her this, but it just came without warning.

“Thank you, Dany.”

She looked at his with a surprised look and smiled.

The last time someone had called her Dany was when her brother was killed with melted gold. Then name always reminded her of horrible things, but coming from him it was the sweetest thing she had ever heard.

She smiled at him. “My brother was the only one who used to call me that. I don’t think I’ve heard the name since.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, Your Grace.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled at him radiantly. “Dany. You can call me Dany.”

He smiled at her and looked down at his naked, battered body. “I’d bend the knee. But.”

She looked shocked. “What about those who pledged their allegiance to you?”

“It doesn’t matter now. You have promised to help us fight the army of the dead and that’s what I asked of you. You asked me to bend the knee and I refused. I see now that I was wrong. You believed in me when no one else would and saved my men from the death of the walkers. I see no point in squabbling over lands that may lay in ice when the war is over. I have no qualms in helping you in the war with Cersei when the dead are defeated. The Lords will understand in time.”

This time it was Jon’s turn to be shocked.

“I don’t want the North. I won’t require you to bend the knee when the war is over. Your people chose you as their king because they put their faith in you to lead them and protect them. They should have the king they chose. I will not fight you on the issue of the north. The real threat is here, and we need to band together to beat these monsters.” Dany said respectfully.

Jon looked at her with a tenderness in his gaze. “Thank you.”

Dany looked at him back intensely. The tension between them coming to a burning flame. She had denied herself from feeling anything for so long. Jon Snow came into her life and reignited the flames within her soul. She never wanted to leave his side even if death was at their doorstep.

She didn’t know if it was the weight of the moment, or the relief she had felt when she saw him breathing. She looked in eyes and saw the same emotion she had running through her.

Dany stared into his eyes as if asking for permission. Jon just looked at her with the same passion.

Dany removed her hands from his grasp and cupped his face in her hands. She doesn’t know if he leaned up or she leaned down, but their lips collided like a spark being lit into a burning flame.

Jon raised his hands as high as he could to her head without feeling the extent of her injuries. He kissed her with a passion he didn’t even know he had in him. She slid her tongue on his lower lip begging for entrance and he let her in. She tasted like salty tears and sweet summer wine. How had waited this long to kiss her?

Dany glided her hand to the back of his head, careful not to make him lean to far up to feel his injuries, and she kissed him fiercely. Her tongue darted in his mouth and their mouths danced like a wildfire. Dany felt a jolt of desire run through her stomach and it pooled between her thighs. When had kissing become more meaningful than sex? She didn’t know, but she never wanted this moment to end.

When the need for breath arised, Jon slowly pulled away from her mouth and rested his forehead against hers. His hands stayed in her hair, and her hands on his cheeks. He released a shaky breath and kept his eyes closed basking in the moment. He knew loved her then.

Dany kept her forehead on his and calmed her breathing. She wanted to live in this moment forever. White walkers, the Night king, and Cersei be damned. She didn’t even know if she had the desire for the throne anymore. Her thought drifted to a house with a red door. Westeros was her birth home, but it never felt like home here. Maybe she was never meant to sit on the throne, maybe she was meant to come here and fight with him. I have found my home. She thought as she leaned in to gently kiss him.

This kiss was gentle and soft, far different than the passionate one they just shared. Dany poured all her heart into this one. She wanted him to know he wasn’t alone anymore. She would fight for the North. She would fight for him.

After the kiss broke, she finally leaned up and looked into his eyes. They shined with a different light than she had seen before.

He stroked the side of her cheek and smiled at her.

A knock on the door broke their gaze.

Davos came in and broke the moment.

“I see you are doing better, your grace.” He spoke to Jon, but it was meant for both of them.

Dany knew Ser Davos wanted to speak to Jon alone.

She squeezed Jon’s hand one more time and stood up.

“I will leave you two to discuss your business.” She said softly.

Dany was headed for the door when Jon called her.

“Dany, come back later tonight please?”

She smiled brightly at him, “Of course, my lord.”

He smiled the smile only reserved for her.

Dany walked back to her chambers with a new hope. She wasn’t going to let the Night King ruin her chance at saving her people. She was going to win this war with fire and blood. He may have taken one of her children, but she still had two left. She would be damned if he took anything else from her.

He wouldn’t take Jon. She would make sure of that. She would die before she’d let him take Jon.

She would go this parlay with Cersei Lannister and burn her alive if she doesn’t agree.

Nothing would stop the dragon within her from protecting all she loved.

She would win this war against the army of the dead. She would do it for her people, and for him.

She watched the moon glow over the wall.

Her eyes filled with determination.

Her heart filled with love for a brooding northern king.


Here’s a bit of fluff from a suggested prompt. Daenerys and Jon arrive in Winterfell and are received by the Stark family. A discovery of lineage is uncovered and plans are made.

I truly believe that the tension that D&D and GoT is trying to allude to between Dany and Jon will end up being resolved fairly quickly. This is how I imagine it.

Be aware this is a rough draft and could be subjected to edits and reposts before being published on ao3. Let me know what you think and please submit prompts if you’d like!

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