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So I just had to write something after that new episode…which was well worth the wait! Inspired by 8x01 so there are spoilers for that-mostly cute romantic Jonerys stuff! 

The dragons seem content to roam for food farther north, away from the hustle and bustle in Winterfell, and Dany is so happy to see them eating normally again that she doesn’t mind waiting a while before they fly back. The death of Viserion has been hard on all of them-she still sees Rhaegal hang back a little bit when he flies, as if he’s still trying to leave a space for his brother. Drogon has been more protective of him than normal, too-he never leaves the other dragon, even for a moment. His long midnight flights are over; his brother takes priority. Dany feels, in a way, that he’s finally grown up. She only wishes the circumstances for it hadn’t been so dire. 

The little clearing is beautiful and remote, the air so clear and clean it hurts to breathe. The only sounds are the wind through the trees, the plash of water in the not-quite-frozen falls. It’s a spot of life and movement in what is otherwise a world of ice, and it comforts her in a way she can’t quite define. But it’s Jon who notices the cut in the wall that leads down behind the waterfall, a path that winds away into the dark. He scrapes a fallen tree branch along the stone until it catches and then leads the way, keeping a hand on her elbow protectively. 

She can’t deny it feels a little wonderful. 

The darkness only lasts for a few moments before the passage opens up into a large natural clearing, seemingly carved out of the rock. A hole in the top of the ceiling high above them sends clear afternoon light filtering down. Nearly half of the cave is water, but when Jon touches it tentatively he gives a little sigh of relief-and then, to her shock, he starts stripping off his outer layers of furs. “It’s a hot spring. We have them at Winterfell.” 

She tentatively takes off one of her gloves and touches the water carefully-and it’s blissfully warm. It seems like a contradiction, the harsh winter air meeting the warm water-but Jon only takes off his jerkin and slips inside, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh of pure bliss. He opens one eye carefully when he notices she’s not following him in and raises an eyebrow. “Well? Aren’t you coming in?” 

She’s desperate to wash off all the dirt from travel but the whole thing still strikes her as…odd. “Won’t it be cold?” 

“Only a little. Only at first.” He flicks water at her and she can’t help laughing as it splashes her boots. “What are you waiting for?” 

She rolls her eyes and strips, carefully folding her clothes and leaving them within easy reach of the water’s edge. The cold bites at her exposed skin and she slides in fast-only to let out a little gasp when she hits the hot water. It feels like every part of her body simultaneously tenses and then releases, leaving her full of contentment. “It’s lovely. You had these at Winterfell and you weren’t planning on telling me?” 

“Of course I was planning on telling you-there just hasn’t been time.” She senses the weight that comes down on their shoulders when they mention Winterfell and how horribly everything is going. There hasn’t been time for anything, much less soft and romantic moments like these. She’s hardly even had time to kiss him-although she’s sure doing that would drive away whatever Northern lords they still have following them. 

As he kisses her now, she realizes how much she’s missed it. 

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers, letting her fingers run over his scars and watching the path the water droplets make as they trace down his skin and the flat plane of his stomach. 

He laughs a little bit. “I’ve been beside you all this time.” 

“Still. We’ve always been busy negotiating-debating, more like. Pretending that we don’t love each other, that we’ve never slept together.” She wonders how quickly Sansa Stark would kick her out of Winterfell, dragons be damned, if she knew just how many times they slept together on the boat ride north. 

Even now she’s still hesitant to bring it up because she doesn’t know what it all means. She doesn’t know what they can be, whether this can change anything or if it just makes things more complicated. Love is a dangerous game. 

More and more now she’s beginning to think she didn’t sleep with him just because he was handsome and they were both lonely and they would be able to go their separate ways when the wars were over. Perhaps there’s something more to it-an emotion she can’t name, even to herself. He’s staring at her now with those deep, soulful eyes she can lose herself in, and she keeps talking even though she’s not where her next words will land. “If things were different…would we still be keeping things a secret?” 

“No,” he whispers, and his quick and assured answer makes her heart leap a little. “If things were different, we’d kiss like this for the entire world to see.” He comes to her now, cups her face in his hand, and kisses her like she’s giving him something vital-food to a starving man, a crown for a king. “Perhaps…one day…” It’s clear he’s just as frightened as she is about this. 

“When you’re in Winterfell and I’m in King’s Landing and we only see each other every ten years? Maybe longer?” She can’t help the way her voice wavers because it hurts even to imagine that. He’ll be married to a woman from a good Northern family, with a brood of children that have his hair and eyes, that will gaze at her just as resentfully as his sister does. And she’ll have…well, she doesn’t know what she’ll have. Not any children, certainly. 

“Don’t say that,” he whispers, and she doesn’t know exactly what he’s objecting to. 

“There’s not a future for us,” she whispers, even as tears prick at her eyes, because it’s true, it has to be, and someone should say it even though it hurts.

His arms come to envelop her, holding her so close she can feel the beat of his heart. Between the heat of him and the heat of the hot springs she feels warmer than she has in days. “Dany-” 

“I love you,” she whispers, each word tearing at her heart. “And that frightens me.” 

He’s so quiet that for a moment she starts to feel nervous-maybe she’s badly misjudged things, maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. Then he says “I love you too,” in a voice that melts her bones, reduces her to cinders even though she thought she could never burn. 

He will be her undoing, this man. She knows it. 

They kiss and kiss for so long that their skin is wrinkled by the time they finally get out and change quickly, wincing whenever they’re too exposed to the cold. The dragons give her a strange look when they finally leave the cave behind, as if to tell her that she doesn’t fool them because her hair’s disheveled. She feels like she’s glowing from happiness. 

He kisses her one last time before they mount their separate dragons. “Don’t fly too far ahead.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Suddenly she doesn’t want to leave the cave behind-they could stay here and never come back, letting the dragons catch their food (they look properly fed for the first time in days and she’s certain they enjoyed themselves) and leave the rest of the world to sort itself out how it will. All they need is each other. 

But that’s not who they are, and they know it. 

So instead they fly back and she watches him struggle to control Rhaegal, who’s always had a mind of his own, and laughs so hard her stomach hurts. And when she lands she extends a hand to help him climb off but they are so wonderfully cordial to each other that not even the most careful observer could believe what they’ve just done. But she knows, deep in her heart, and she carries that truth around with her wherever she goes. 

Jon Snow loves her. And she loves him. And it changes everything and nothing, because maybe they don’t have a future but they do have a present. 

And she will do everything in her power to make it last. 

More of my Jonerys fics here

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Breathing in Snowflakes-Chapter 2/10-read it on Ao3 here

After a year and a half I’m finally back on my bullshit

This chapter is not as action packed as the first chapter but the next chapter will be-the story will only be ten chapters, so there’s not a ton of room for filler. I’m tentatively planning updates on Fridays if real life doesn’t get in the way. 

You can find more of my fics on my sideblog here.

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My entry for the Jonerys Unites charity event is finally here! 

It was written for @aweseeds ! Thank you so much for your donation and patience! The request was Dany’s/the Stark siblings reaction to their meeting at Winterfell. 

Read it on Ao3 here !

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Kindred Spirits

 Written for @whyhasthemadnessoccured , who requested Missandei and Dany talking about Targ dynasty 2.0 (quite a long time ago, sorry! But it got done). 

Dany was having a quiet night, for once. 

Ever since she’d arrived at Winterfell it felt like she was constantly on the move, going from one meeting to another, walking in the godswood with Sansa every night, receiving rudimentary self defense lessons from Arya…although it seemed like Jon worried constantly, always reminding her not to push herself too hard and think about their child. 

Their child. It still sent shivers down her spine, thinking about it. Sometimes she couldn’t stop wondering if someone hadn’t made a mistake, if she wasn’t really pregnant after all. Even though something primal inside of her knew, the way mothers always know, it still seemed too wonderful to be true. 

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Merry Christmas @iane-casey from you Jonerys Secret Santa! You asked for something involving Ned telling Catelyn the truth about Jon and how that would change their relationship and I hope I did your prompt justice! It was a pleasure writing for you! 

The maester had done all he could for the boy but they worried it would not be enough. The pox ravaged his body and his temperature climbed steadily, no matter how many cold compresses they applied to his forehead. They gave him potions and prayed to the Seven for hours at a time, but still he worsened, his breathing becoming more and more shallow.

And all Catelyn could think was that she was glad it wasn’t Robb lying there.

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The Gift

Just a little idea I’ve had floating around for a while now-though I got a little inspired by the new promo… 

April 14th! WE HAVE A DATE EVERYONE! 

Dany had always liked her name day: the twelfth day of the twelfth month. It had a nice ring to it; she’d always thought of it as balanced, just as she liked things. But she made a habit of not telling people about it. She’d never liked the fuss and all the piles of gifts she couldn’t possibly use (and had to write thank you notes for) when she still lived with Ser Darry, and later Viserys had grown too focused on other things (like his father’s throne) to remember to get her much of anything. She hadn’t minded though; she would celebrate herself, without needing anyone else’s help or approval. 

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That Would Be Enough

@too-much-jonerys this one was yours, wasn’t it? 

He’s pacing again. 

He does that more and more these days, as each negative report comes back from the front lines. They’re losing their best generals faster than they can send them out-smoke covers the far horizon like a permanent bruise from all the funeral pyres they’re burning. It’s like the North has become a mass grave, the snow littered with the ashy remains of their bodies. 

She wonders how long it will be before she joins them. She closes her eyes and says a prayer to the Northern gods for strength-she doesn’t really think of them as her gods but at this point the ragtag army of the living can take all the help it can get. Not before our child is born. She touches her stomach where can she feel her little prince (or princess; she’s partial to the latter while Jon hopes for the former) kicking in excitement or anticipation, like they’re sick of being stuck inside her womb-helpless. Like she is now. 

But she can only imagine how much worse it is for Jon, who has no physical disabilities to keep him from combat-who has stayed back from the front only to protect her and watch over her until their child comes, lest the White Walkers try to sneak inside the palace. She knows that it takes a toll on him though because he thinks he should be out there dying with his men, leading them to their deaths like the good soldier he is. Selfishly, she’s glad he’s not there. She can’t give him up just yet. 

She doesn’t know if she ever can. 

For now though, she crosses to the window so she can stand by his side. He relaxes into the careful, almost protective hand that she puts on his shoulder and massages the knots in his muscles. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

He grabs her palm and kisses the back of her hand, trying for his best smile. “Nothing that matters.” 

“Everything you think matters,” she replies, stretching up to kiss him on his forehead. The scruff on his chin tickles her skin; she wonders how long it’s been since he’s had a shave. It’s not exactly the first thing on anyone’s mind, tossed between war rooms and messengers from the front, each report more dire than the last. “Don’t shut me out.” 

“Mm.” He kisses the top of her head, though she suspects it’s more of a distraction than anything else. But when their attention turns back to the window, all his playful affection has vanished-replaced by the hard general that the rest of the world sees. “I should be out there, Dany.” 

“You’d get yourself killed and then you’d be no use to anyone.” 

He gives a little grunt, like he doesn’t want to acknowledge she’s right. “I could go with Rhaegal.” 

“His wing is still healing. You’d only hurt him.” 

He sighs. “Being stuck here…I just feel so-”

“Powerless? I do too. But we’ll fight-when the time is right. Until then…we can’t afford to lose more than we have already.” And they’ve lost a lot. Their best men and horses, their cleverest tacticians…all gone one by one, while the Walkers continue to gain ground. Even the few battles that do go in their favor are largely useless since no matter how hard they fight the enemy seems to fight back harder. They have the advantage, with the deep snow that can break a man’s leg, the cold wind that can freeze them to their bones, the lack of food that can break their souls long before it takes their bodies. Even the fireplaces at Winterfell refuse to warm them properly-they sleep on a bed heaped with blankets and huddled together for warmth on the worse nights. 

“At what point do we run out of things to lose?” She’s never seen him so defeated before and it frightens her. If he gives up hope they might as well surrender now. 

“But we’re not lost yet.” She takes his hand and splays it over her stomach. He draws in a breath, like he’s not quite used to it even after all this time, even when he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that the baby is his. “We have our little prince or princess, don’t forget. And they’ll need their father.” 

“And their mother.” There’s still a tremor to his voice but it’s steadied because they both know they’ll fight to the ends of the earth and beyond just to secure this unborn child a future. 

“You know,” she adds, intentionally turning her tone light and teasing, “I’ve been wondering which of us she’ll take after. Personally, I hope she has my hair-but I hope she has your smile.” 

His smile is halting and hesitant, like he’s not sure he should given how many men are probably dying right this second. She knows if she thought about it and how they’re sullying their memory she might never smile again. “I hope he has your charm and voice, so he can convince the people to follow him and might never lack for close comrades.” 

“I hope she has your prowess on the battlefield so she can lead her armies to a speedy victory.” 

“But I hope he has your kindness and fairness, so he gives his enemies a chance to reform and follow him.” 

“I hope that when she sees an injustice she doesn’t rest until she fixes it.” 

Really she couldn’t care less whether they have a prince or a princess. She just hopes he can give he (or she) the life she always wished she could have, with loving parents and siblings to play with and a home to grow up in. Although as the Walkers draw closer and closer, that looks less and less likely. But if she gives up now, if she allows her fear and doubt to consume her, how can she expect their soldiers to fight on? How can she bear to send her dragons into battle knowing that they could get hurt, even killed? If she loses sight of their dream of spring, how will she motivate herself to fight when it seems hopeless-when it seems they can never win? 

You must win, her heart tells her. For Jon, for your child, you have no other choice. 

“If I can hold this child in my arms, hear their first cry, lay them to rest in a cradle and sing them to sleep…that will be enough. We’re here. We’re alive. We have something to fight for. It’s enough, Jon.” It has to be.  

His arms come to encircle her, holding her gently but tightly. “How can you be so sure?” 

“I can’t afford not to be,” she responds simply. “And neither can you.” They can never show how worried they are in front of their men. They must believe there is hope, that the little life germinating inside of her will live to see a better future than they’ve ever known. “You need to live. And if that means not fighting on the front lines because we need to plan-” He doesn’t respond but he feels his love and tenderness, torn between the duty he feels to her and to his men. “It’s enough,” she whispers. “You are enough, wherever you are.” He angles his head downwards just slightly so he can kiss her, and her heart beats in her chest like a mad and wild thing. 

The world is darker than it’s ever been but in their tower room they work to keep that hope alive. 

Loosely inspired by a Hamilton song. 

Yeesh it’s been a while. But expect a few things in December ;) I have a few gifts to make. 

Reply in comments, asks, or messages if you would like to be added to my tag list! Master list here I Writing blog here I 

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When The Past Catches Up

Well look who’s back-side eyes myself. But I’ll have you know that I’ve been writing A LOT. Unfortunately, not Jonerys. Although with this inspiration that might be changing. 

This prompt is from @neverbird @petracheam and @donsenya-is-the-truth-longerclaw (sorry about the wait)

She doesn’t know exactly what wakes her up or how she knows that it’s morning because it’s still rather dark outside. And she didn’t dream a thing. On the one hand she’s happy, but on the other it feels like a betrayal of her child-as if by not thinking of him she’s forgetting about him, forgetting about his death.

It takes her a minute to realize that she’s not alone. She’s still not used to having someone else in the bed next to her. It’s been a while, longer than she realized. And she’s surprised how quickly she’s gotten used to his presence, when for so long she was alone.

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(St)argaryen Royalty-Inside the Lives of Our Favorite Royal Couple

Based off this post and those stunning pictures from the golden globes

Daenerys Targaryen, the last of the Targaryen line; and Jon Stark, the second oldest of Lord Eddard Stark’s six children, made waves last spring when they celebrated their wedding at the old Targaryen palace the Red Keep, which dates back to the fifteenth century. It was a surprise but not an unexpected one-the marriage combines the Stark bloodline, a respectable family that’s lived in Westeros for time out of mind; and the Targaryens, who’d fallen on hard times after a couple increasingly despotic rulers in the past fifty years. Now, nearly a year later, we check in with the public’s sweethearts-who are expecting their first child later this year. 

Westeros Today met with the monarchs at their town home in King’s Landing, a stately and modern abode perfect for modern royalty. “It feels like home,” the King (who insisted we call him Jon), said as he reclined on a leather couch in front of large windows looking out on the capitol building. “The Red Keep is more like a museum-a very stuffy museum, at that.” 

His wife (who insisted we call her Daenerys) agrees. “It’s amazing, of course-but it’s never really a place to raise a family.” And that, of course, is the first thing on both of their minds-their announcement last October that they were expecting trended on social media for weeks. When asked if they wanted a boy or a girl, the royals declined to comment. “We’ll be happy with either one.” Readers may remember the groundbreaking piece of legislation passed two years ago, wherein it became legal for the crown to pass through the female line. 

Also present were their pets-their dog, Ghost; and their three cats: Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal. They didn’t startle to see so many people suddenly in their living room; Daenerys shrugs, saying that “they’re used to it”. And they love to be photographed, which you can see in our gallery on pages five and six. 

The royal courtship was anything but ordinary. After a campaign by speaker of the house, Cersei Lannister, the last Targaryen king (Daenerys’ father) was forced to step down twenty years ago after he was pronouced ‘unfit to rule’. A set of tragedies befell the Targaryens in the interim-including a bloody civil war with a rival family full of assassinations and back alley murders. The conflict was never fully resolved, and many see the Stark-Targaryen union as a way to bring the conflict to a peaceful end once and for all. 

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Jon and Daenerys married for love-or that they captured the public’s hearts after their first date. It seemed like love at first sight (and come on, who can deny that they look adorable together?). Their wedding last spring was the second most watched event that year, after the Superbowl. 

So what do the world’s Young Monarchs do now? Although Parliament passes all of the laws and the position is fairly ceremonial, they still take a very active role in government, often sitting in on meetings and speaking out for or against controversial bills. Both are especially passionate about certain hot button topics-for Daenerys it’s women’s health and rights, while Jon works to encourage democracy and diplomacy at home and abroad (and volunteers at a local animal shelter twice a month because he’s such a sweetie). They’re big world travelers, commandeering two planes, a helicopter, and their own landing base. They often travel with their pets too. “They like it,” Daenerys says, demonstrating how Rhaegal will go into his cat carrier and fall asleep immediately. The youngest cat is our favorite, especially after he sat on Jaime Lannister’s lap at a state function in September. 

Their social calendar is also the talk of the town, although Jon jokes that will change once Baby Stark-Targaryen (or Stargaryen, according to popular culture) comes along. Just three nights ago they made a surprise appearance at the Golden Globes, both looking stunning in black. But they host plenty of parties at the Red Keep too (including the most hotly anticipated Globes afterparty, where tickets sold for millions of dollars a ticket). 

But what do they do when the cameras aren’t rolling? Daenerys laughs, saying that they’re just like normal people in their twenties. “We read a lot, we like to go hiking and sailing, shopping…usual stuff, nothing crazy.” They’re also major Star Wars fans and saw the new movie in a private showing at their town house two nights before opening night. Jon adds that they try not to make a bigger deal of things than they have to (is that why they flew business class on a trip to Singapore a few months ago, decidedly dressed down?). “You can’t let it get to your head. You’re here to represent a people, and you can’t forget that even for a moment.” The lives of the last couple Targaryen kings were mired in scandal and distrust, but they’re determined to be different. “Transparency is key, along with open communication with the people.”

To that end, they frequent a bakery on Rhaenys’ Hill (they always split a chocolate torte) and have regular ‘tea parties’ with lucky customers. “It’s always amazing fun,” Daenerys says. “The people are so eager to make change. We couldn’t be happier.” 

They took us on a short tour of their town home, including a stop in their state of the art kitchen, their screening room with a working popcorn machine, their perfectly manicured rose gardens, the private libraries (open for public study for the first time in their histories) and the baby’s nursery-the walls are painted a soft white, and the royals confess that they’ve already started picking out baby clothes. “We’re very excited,” Jon tells us, gushing over his sister Sansa (known for her own fabulous embroidery shop, where no two outfits are the same), who’s already working overtime making hats, booties, and sweaters. 

When pushed for baby names, the royals declined to comment. You can see our reader’s poll on pages 8-10, the most popular names being Rhaella, Lyanna, or Visenya for a girl and Eddard, Daeron, or Aerion for a boy. Our polls show that 56% of our readers hope that the baby is a girl, while rumors about twins have sprung up after a leaked gynecologist visit that you can read about here, even though they have since been refuted by the royals’ publicity team. 

We asked them some of our readers’ high frequency questions: what are their favorite foods (pork brisket and butterfly shrimp respectively), what’s their idea of a perfect date (both agree that a picnic in the park is ideal), what their favorite movie of the year was (Wonder Woman) and what their newest Netflix obsession is (they’re scrambling to catch up on Stranger Things). 

“When it came down to it, there wasn’t a question,” Jon says, reminiscing on his quiet proposal last spring. “Daenerys is warm and funny and so, so kind. I can’t imagine my life without her and I’m glad every day that she said yes.” 

“I love Jon,” Daenerys adds. “He’s a great king and a great man because he just genuinely cares about other people-not to mention his sense of humor or understanding…he inspires everyone who meets him to want to be a better person. It’s an essential quality for people in power, but really everyone should have it as well.” Her wedding ring shows a wolf facing a dragon, made of painted red and black gold and 500 carat diamonds. 

Even though they tell us that they’re just normal twentysomethings at heart, one thing’s for sure-this is one royal couple we can’t get enough of. 

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I was tagged by @thesparkles59 and @mhysaofdragons  (and possibly a couple other people, Tumblr has been eating my mentions) to write a 100 words+ Jonerys drabble. I wrote fluff especially for @allegre17. Get well soon!

So this is my first time writing Jonerys in a while (I’m currently writing multi chapters for 4 different OTPs), my apologies if I’m out of practice. 

Three years and it still seems like something out of a dream, waking up next to her. 

Sunlight trickles in through the Keep windows, painting the side of her head in a pale golden glow and sparkling off her tresses. Her face has the unaffected and relaxed air of sleep, released from the everyday tensions of running a kingdom. She doesn’t stir when he props himself up on one elbow; he’s always an early riser. But she always distracts him; he lingers by her bedside, sometimes watching her for a few minutes just like this, wondering how something turned out so right in a world that’s usually so wrong. 

She lets out a little huff of annoyance and turns away from a ray of sunshine shining directly at her eyes, half pulling a pillow over her head. But she doesn’t wake up, and after a few moments she goes back to sleeping as normal. They hosted a formal dinner at the Keep for a group of visiting Northern dignitaries and they all stayed up a little too late drinking and sharing stories; she probably won’t get up for quite some time yet. 

Recently she’s started wearing lacy little nothings of nightgowns that infuriate him in the best possible way. This one is no different-it’s not even a nightgown, really. Calling it a gown of any sort is extremely generous. 

He covers her hand with his and she lets out a soft little sigh. They stay there for a few minutes, frozen in the early morning light. Outside the window King’s Landing is starting to wake up-the first of the fishmongers are returning to hawk their wares, a few cats fight in a nearby alley, and a couple girls play a skipping game that he dimly remembers Sansa and Jeyne Poole playing on warm days in Winterfell. 

Finally he crosses to his wardrobe to change-he likes to get in a little swordplay practice before he breaks his fast-taking care to close doors and drawers with barely a whisper of displaced air. He’s almost straightened his doublet when he hears movement in the bed again and he turns to see Dany looking at him, raking her fingers through wavy hair newly released from her braid. “Where are you going?” 

“The armory.” But the words die on his throat even as he says them because suddenly they don’t seem so pressing. 

“At this hour?” She cocks her head, letting sunlight sweep across the curve of her neck knowing full well it will drive him insane all morning. 

“I thought you were still sleeping.” 

“I don’t feel tired.” She beckons him back over and he takes his place beside her, leaning in close to kiss her. He can still taste the plum wine from last night on her lips. “Stay here for a while.” 

“The others-”

“Can wait.” She kisses him harder, threading her fingers through the lacing on his doublet and suddenly he can’t imagine going anywhere else, being anywhere else than the safety and privacy afforded by her arms. She breathes his name in the back of his neck, her voice barely a breath. This is their time, their world. 

They’ll live in it as long as life will let them. 

I’m so late that I’m pretty sure everyone else has already done this but I’ll tag @mykingjon @ellimomo and @noordinarylines just in case! 

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The Wrong Kind of Christmas

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it and happy holidays to those who don’t!! Technically where I am it’s still Christmas Eve but I figured I’d get it out early since so many of you are already celebrating :) Wishing you all the happiest of holidays and a wonderful rest of 2017. 

@got-addict this one’s for you from your secret santa :) I hope you enjoy it-I know it’s probably not quite what you’re expecting but hopefully it’s still interesting. You’re so funny and I’ve loved getting to know you this past month!! 

So I was interested in doing a beach Christmas just to shake things up a bit and I wasn’t going to do Hawaii because I’m staying in Hawaii right now and it felt a bit pretentious but I know the beaches and mountains of Hawaii especially well and since I’m here I barely have to do any research hehehe so apologies there 

Also THIS IS MY 1OOTH FIC FOR THIS SHIP!! SINCE MAY!! I can honestly tell you I didn’t think I would ever get to writing 100 fics for anything but you’re all amazing and I love writing for you so this is on you as much as it’s on me. I want to do some kind of celebration but I’m not sure exactly what that’s going to be yet-stay tuned for more info!! 

Without further ado, onto the story: 

“How can it be Christmas without snow? That’s like Thanksgiving without football, or Valentine’s Day without overpriced chocolates.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to spend another year freezing in your cabin again.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard, already making payments that couldn’t be retracted. “Besides, we can do Christmas with your family when we get back.” Christmas with her family wasn’t going to be a problem. It never was.

He took another sip of hot chocolate and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t even surf.”

“You’ll learn.” She scooted her chair closer to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Please? It’ll be fun, I promise.”

He acted like he was mulling it over, when he knew that he would never turn down something she wanted so badly. Then again, he’d be a fool to turn down a trip to Hawaii anyway. “I suppose. If you’re sure.”

“Believe me-I’m sure. We’re going to experience the holidays the way they were meant to be celebrated-on a beach with the sun beating down on us, sipping pina coladas while the waves crash on the shore.”

Even though it went against everything he’d ever been taught-every time they went to his parents’ house for Christmas dinner, every time he and Bran went sledding down Skull Hill, every time he and Arya competed to see who could shovel the most snow-he supposed it was only fair. Up until last year Dany had never seen snow before. Maybe it was his turn to spend a Christmas without it. “Could be worse.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re getting into. Once you go to Hawaii, you never want to come back.” Hmm. We’ll have to see about that.

The plane ride was extremely long and extremely boring. For a while they tried to entertain themselves watching movies they hadn’t wanted to watch when they were in theatres but had no choice about 35000 feet in the air but eventually they gave up and tried to sleep. Tried to being the operative word; Dany had been traveling since she was two weeks old and she’d thought ahead to bring her travel pillow. Jon was less lucky; he wasn’t good at falling asleep sitting up.

As they flew somewhere over the central US he perused the guidebook for the fiftieth time. They’d be going to the Big Island, also called Hawai’i. The word was strange and foreign, as were the pictures of golden sand and sparkling blue water. They looked like artwork-not something that could actually exist, not somewhere they would be in seven more hours. A place of sand and sea.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a pina colada, or even if he’d had a pina colada ever. “Dany?”

“Hmm?” She blinked up at him sleepily. Her blonde hair was coming loose of its plait, frizzing around her shoulders.

“What does a pina colada taste like?”

“Heaven.” She yawned and rested her head on his shoulder, asleep again in moments.

And even though he was sick of being in the plane and his ears were constantly popping from altitude change whenever he got comfortable, he was inclined to take her word for it.

It was late when they finally landed on the Big Island-or early, depending on how one looked at it. Early evening in Hawaii, long past midnight back at home. Jon could feel the exhaustion in every atom of his body, weighing him down as they waited for their luggage and caught the shuttle to their hotel. Dany was faring slightly better, but only slightly.

Jon had been expecting a blast of heat when he landed on the tarmac but there was just a pleasant wave of warmth, so unlike the cold and snow he’d left behind. The sun was setting over what seemed like an eternity of blue green water, setting the mountains (volcanoes, he corrected himself) alight with reddish golden fire. Palm trees waved in the light breeze that followed them when they disembarked, and everywhere Jon looked he saw vistas that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a travel brochure.

Everything was a strange, blurred fairyland-probably from lack of sleep and a change of time. The person in the seat next to them was snapping frenzied pictures of everything they passed-the forests, massive mansions built of pure glass, crystal clear beaches and bright ocean that sparkled in the setting sun. Paradise.

“Still no snow,” he replied.

“In a couple days, you won’t even notice.”

Jon had never really been a fan of the beach-the water was always too cold, the sand was harsh and grating and wouldn’t come out of his swimsuit no matter how many times he washed it, he always got sunburnt even though he was meticulous with the sunblock, and he could never forget that time he saw a dead jellyfish at the water’s edge and Robb almost stepped on it. But Dany insisted…and he quickly discovered that Hawaiian beaches were in a class all their own.

They had to get up at the crack of dawn to get chairs-Dany was a ball of energy, already half accustomed to the time change, but Jon hadn’t been able to sleep most of the night. But the sand…it was so soft, almost like powder. And the ocean wasn’t like the Atlantic, throwing itself on the beach with a savage fury-it lapped against the shoreline in calm waves, only whipped into frenzies by the wind.

“Merry Christmas,” Dany murmured. She was wearing a new swimsuit and he had to force himself not to appreciate the way it clung to her curves. “I have a surprise for you later.”

“What is it?” It was so sunny; even his sunglasses were doing little to keep out the glare.

“If I tell you now it won’t be a surprise.” She stood, pulling him along behind her. “Let’s go in the water.”

The water was cold, but not too cold-still, Dany shrieked when it hit her exposed thigh. “I guarantee Arya and Gendry are jealous.” When they’d heard that Jon and Dany were skipping the winter festivities and Bran was snowed in at his college upstate, Jon’s younger sister and her boyfriend had planned an impromptu trip to New York City to see the ball drop New Year’s Eve.

“Arya wouldn’t be able to handle a day sitting on the beach,” he replied, splashing her with the cold water until she cried out. “Too much inactivity.”

“She’d get used to it.” She waited until he looked away for a second before she splashed him in the face, laughing as he spit out the salt.

Later they went for a walk along the beach, migrating in and out of the shallows passing children building sand castles and chasing each other down to the water’s edge. The beach was bordered on either side by huge piles of black lava rocks, making a natural barrier between beaches-or maybe it was man made; it wouldn’t have surprised him either way, with all the resorts nearby.

It was a treacherous climb but the view at the top was worth it-mile upon mile of crystal clear water, buffeted on all sides by the wind, their feet splashed every time a wave came in. Dany tried to say something, but the wind whisked her voice away.

He bent closer so he could hear her, salty wind blowing his curls into his eyes. “What?”

“I said, look at the view.” He couldn’t help sneaking a glance down her swimsuit and she elbowed him playfully. “No, that view.” Rolling green hills, bright yellow beaches, craggy black cliffs poking up into the blue of the sky, and more coconut trees in a five mile radius than he’d seen in his entire life.

“It’s beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, tasting faintly of salt. “Though not as beautiful as you.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Only when I’m around you.”

“I think your siblings would beg to differ.” Even so she tilted her head up to kiss him, as the wind threatened the blow them into the ocean and the air tasted of sand and salt and pure pleasure.

When they needed a break from the sun they moved inland to the pool bar where Jon finally got to try the coveted pina colada. Dany watched him intently while he took the first few sips-and then took a deeper swig. “It’s lovely.”

“My family and I went traveling a lot when I was younger,” she said, ordering a daquiri for herself, “and the virgin drinks were my favorite part.”

“What was your favorite?”

“I tried everything, but there’s something about the pina colada.” She swung her chair, sighing deeply. “It reminds me of when I was twelve. We were in Puerto Rico and Rhaegar took me swimming with dolphins.”

Jon glanced at his watch. At home his siblings would be going to sleep now, leaving out their stockings for Santa even though they were old enough to know better, defrosting cookies to eat in the morning, putting the light up deer in the front yard and hiding the pickle on the Christmas tree. He wondered if Dany had any Christmas traditions of her own-she’d spent her childhood moving from place to place and apparently she’d never been in one place long enough to spend more than one Christmas there.

As if she’d read his mind, Dany stirred her drink and sighed. “Every year Dad would say that we’d celebrate the next Christmas in a good home in a good neighborhood with an actual tree filled with presents. And then every Christmas we’d be somewhere else. We didn’t have much, but he did give us travel-he gave us a different Christmas every year. Sometime we went dogsledding, sometimes we spent it on the beach, sometimes we spent it on safari…every year was something new and exciting. It never occurred to me to want anything else, unless I heard them arguing. Or if we were watching one of those Hallmark Christmas movies about being home for the holidays.”

He felt a little bad about making such a big deal out of it now. “Well you’re right-I haven’t missed the snow yet.”

Her smile was brighter than the tropical sun, warmer than the tropical breeze. “I think it’s time for that surprise now.”

“Will you tell me where we’re going now?” The air conditioning unit in the rental car was broken and he thought he would pass out if he had to spend any longer than he had to sitting in the passenger side.

She ignored him, taking the hairpin turns at a speed that made him gasp. Higher and higher they climbed into the gathering darkness that pressed heavily upon them, climbing the side of Mauna Kea. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

“Love what?”

Finally they stopped at a waystation on the side of the road-and Jon gasped when he realized how cold it was. He’d noticed that they were going uphill, of course-but he hadn’t realized just how far into the mountains they’d gone. But Dany wasn’t phased, already pulling clothes out of the back-heavy sweaters, thick socks, and soft jackets. Their winter parkas had been shoved in the back of the trunk. “Put these on.” He was only too happy to comply.

There were very few people around now. He got the feeling that he was at the top of the world, alone, remote, and isolated.

“We’re lucky-I thought we’d miss it.” She twisted her hair into a ponytail and pulled on a pair of white gloves, examining a map and rubbing her hands together fiercely to keep warm.

They walked around for a bit, looking at various overlooks with vistas of sea and sky until Dany decided they’d acclimated to the change in elevation. It was hard to remember that only a couple of hours ago they had been frying at the beach-now that same stretch of sand was remote and far away. But there were the waves, as constant as always. Even here he thought he could hear them, just the faintest whisper as they crashed against the rocks.

They continued on, stopping twice more to adjust. The air felt thinner and colder, and there were fewer and fewer people now. Periodically they stopped by visitor centers to get warm and look at how many thousands of feet above sea level they were, reading stories about ancient gods living in volcanoes and causing explosions. It was a different side to Hawaii, and if he hadn’t been looking for it he was sure he would never have been able to find it.

They drove for another twenty minutes in the gathering darkness-and then it happened.

It started snowing.

The landscape reminded him of one of Sansa’s snow landscapes she’d created every year out of gingerbread and confectioners sugar-everything was dusted with white, and the snow looked pure and untouched. And the sky…there were so many stars, without anything to block them out-not even forest trees.

It felt like he’d been transported home, in the midst of everything new and exciting. He caught his breath.

He felt Dany’s arms around him, strong and sure-but also tentative, waiting to see what he thought. “It’s not the same, but-”

“It’s perfect.” And he meant it-better than perfect, it was magical.

“You’re always saying it’s not Christmas without snow-”

“So you took it upon yourself to find snow in the tropics?”

“More or less. I wanted to surprise you.”

He swung her around and she shrieked as her boots left the ground. “Consider me surprised.”

This time her lips tasted like snow and starlight, reminding him of Christmases spent at his parents’ house-but underneath he could still taste the salt and sun, their two worlds colliding.

By the time they made it back down they were cold and dizzy from the change in altitude, but it didn’t matter. Her smile was all he cared about.

A little cheesy but it’s Christmas so I thought I could get away with it hehe. 

Again thank you so much everyone for making this fandom such a lovely place to be, where I’ve met so many new friends. Here’s to the next 100 fics! 

[jonerys-snowborn-scribe]

I finished that Anastasia AU I was talking about! You can read it on Ao3 here because it’s 6000+ words long lol. 

Requested by @jonerys-the-last-targaryens and @crazyearthbender

I’ll add more to this later as I’m pressed for time right now. Enjoy! 

[jonerys-snowborn-scribe]

So i’m an idiot and I accidentally deleted all 75 of my Jonerys edits so there’s no edit for this but ah well 

for @winterishereyourgrace - a Star Wars AU where Jon is Luke and Dany is Leia and no one is related. Notes to follow. 

“Aren’t you a little short to be a stormtrooper?” 

For a minute he just stops in confusion. He’s risked his life, flown halfway across the galaxy, been shot at more times than he can count, all because of her message…and he’s too short? “Uh…no. I’m Jon Snow. I’m here to rescue you.”

He thinks that warrants at least a thank you but she seems too distracted. “I trust you have an escape route?” 

“Um.” He does not in fact have an escape plan other than running around the ship until he finds Davos. But he doesn’t think she’ll appreciate that. 

That catches her attention. “What?” Then she closes her eyes and sighs deeply, like she’s praying for strength. “Tell me that you didn’t break into this highly fortified space station without an exit strategy.”

“Of course not.” That would be stupid. 

But she’s already moving again, out into the hallway where Robb and Theon are shooting at everything that moves and Grey Wind and Ghost are attacking whatever they miss. “Did you get her?” Theon asks, as Robb runs farther down the corridor to see if there’s miraculously a back door. 

“Yes-” 

“There’s nothing down that way,” she calls after Robb. “I looked. The only exit is…” The one with a shrieking siren and a pile of dead bodies. “And I suppose it’s too much to hope that you managed to keep any of this covert?”

“Very not covert,” Theon says. There are yells farther down the hallway as if to prove his point. 

“Excellent.” She taps her fingers against the wall, in contemplation. Jon’s not sure whether to be in awe of her, annoyed by her, or slightly frightened. “I suppose we’ll have to get dirty.” 

Jon didn’t think that ‘getting dirty’ would ever mean almost dying in a trash pit but hey, it’s whatever. 

As soon as the doors open, they split up. Robb manages to get a read on where they are in comparison to the docking bay and they decide they’ll have a better shot at it in smaller groups. So he and Theon run down one hallway and Jon and Dany run down the other. It’s not decided or anything; it just happens. 

“So how did you get here?” It’s probably not the best time to ask but they’re probably both going to die anyway. 

Apparently she feels the same way. “You hadn’t gathered that by now? I’m a spy for the Rebellion.”

“No, I mean here.” He doesn’t want to say that she seems like the sort of person who wouldn’t ever get captured because she just wouldn’t stand for it. 

“They intercepted a diplomatic ship and apparently the Senate is too incapacitated to do anything about it.” There are stormtroopers lounging down one corridor so they take the other one. “What do they think about the Rebellion on…what planet did you say you were from again?” 

“Winterfell. We don’t think anything about the rebellion because we’re too far out of the Inner Rim for any of it to affect us.” If there’s a center of the universe, Winterfell is the planet it’s farthest from. 

“Winterfell…I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

“That’s not surprising. Most people haven’t, unless they’re doing something illegal.” Yes, this is not the right time to be flirting. If this is flirting. Which it isn’t. 

Obviously. “What about you?” 

For a second he sees something like pain flash across her face. “Dragonstone.” For once her voice isn’t brash or confident-it’s heavy with pain. 

Shit. “We went there to bring the plans to your father…” 

“And he’s dead? They’re all dead? The planet’s blown into billions of pieces of space dust.” He doesn’t answer. “My doing.” 

“It wasn’t-” 

“They would have found an excuse sooner or later. Dragonstone’s always been a thorn in the Lannisters’ side-democratic, too rich to be easily controlled. I’m sure I just…sped up the process. Still…it’s a blow. And it’s a reminder of what we’re fighting for.” 

He never thought he’d miss Winterfell, but at least it’s still there. “I’m sorry.” 

“Two billion people died, two billion lives snuffed out like a candle flame…but I can’t think about that, can I? Not yet. Too much to do.” She smiles at him but it’s humorless. 

And then she almost falls off a sharp drop off. 

He almost slams into her and falls off too but he manages to keep himself pinned in place, just on the edge of the precipice. There’s another bridge on the other side of the pit-but it’s too far to jump. For a second he thinks their luck has finally run out and they’re fucked. 

Then he sees the overhead bar and wonders. “I have an idea.”

She rolls her eyes. “Is it going to get us killed?”

“I’m pretty sure that will happen either way.” He pulls out one of the tools Davos gave him and swings it until it sticks on the bar. The rope stretches taut, and he pulls on it a couple of times to make sure it’s secure. 

It’s not a good idea to test it. But they’re already dead anyway. 

Dany takes an involuntary step back. “No.” 

“We’re dead anyway,” he repeats. 

For a second she looks at him-a strange, searching look as if she’s trying to decide whether or not she can trust him. He’s sure she’s going to say no-and then something behind her eyes seems to relax and she bites her lip, the only sign that she’s nervous. “We’re dead anyway.” 

She holds on tight and closes her eyes until they’re safely swung across. And when they start running again there’s that look in her eyes again-but this time it’s softer. 

Almost like friendship, or something close to it. 

And suddenly, he wonders what happens if they do end up surviving this. They’ve gotten lucky so far-is it really so unbelievable that they’d get lucky again? 

Huh. Maybe she’s not so bad after all. 

Natalia-sorry for the truly terrible quality of this and I know you told me not to do anything for your b-day but I wanted to give you something to tide you over until you get the package. 

I could go into a very long rant about how you’re my best friend and how much I love you but it would take too long and I think you already know most of it anyway. You’ve changed my life in the best way and talking to you is always the best part of my day. You’re an amazing person, one of the best that I know, and I know you don’t always feel that way but you absolutely are and everyone who knows you is lucky to whether they know it or not. Thanks for putting up with all the ranting and my random obsessions and for reading EVERYTHING even if it’s for a fandom you’re not in. My worst days are not as bad as they could be, my worst thoughts are not as powerful as they could be, my spirals are not as endless as they could be if I didn’t have you to talk to. Thank you for letting me confide in you, and for confiding in me. Thank you for slowly helping me realize that maybe there is more to me than a bunch of words. Thank you thank you thankyouthankyouthankyou you’re on a level with people that I never thought I would ever find someone to compare with but my life is better because you’re a part of it. Someday we’ll meet and I’ll be able to say this in person but for now this’ll have to be enough. 

Happy birthday, Nat. You deserve a celebration. You deserve THE BEST CELEBRATION. And honestly if you wanted people to not think about it you should not have befriended the extra of extras. 

[jonerys-snowborn-scribe]

Cold

Not a fun prompt to fill but here it is; hopefully it’s still readable. Sorry about the delay on this; life’s been crazy lately and not a whole lot of fun. 

Warning: heavy angst 

At first he thinks it’s a falling star, blazing to the ground. Then he realizes it’s not a star at all-it’s a woman, blonde hair trailing behind her in the night air. 

He runs to her but he knows long before he reaches her that there is too much space between them and he wouldn’t be able to reach her in time. 

Another shriek from high above them as Drogon and Viserion tear each other apart. Rhaegal already lies in the snow, scales barely lighter than the snow around him. The color seems to leech from his body along with his blood, fading with his breath in the cold air. Jon’s men surround him, ensuring that none of the Walkers got close enough to turn him into another weapon against the living. 

Even though he’s long since stopped feeling his fingers and toes, even though he’s stopped feeling the snow and the cold wind that once seemed to cut to the bone, he can still feel his heart pounding as she hits the snow with barely even a cry. Gods no. Not now. Not when the tide is finally beginning to turn in their favor. 

At the beginning of the day it had been easier to hold her and kiss her like it was the last time, because there was no doubt in his mind that it was. But now…it seems that, impossible though it seemed, the battle might be won. And he can’t contemplate a world without her in it. He can’t stand the thought of having to pick up the pieces alone. 

Even though he knows realistically that there’s no way someone can survive a fall like that he still sinks down next to her, inspecting for damage. Blood pools around her, but he can’t see where it came from. One of her legs is twisted at an odd angle and three of her fingers are broken but when she turns to look at him her eyes are still alert. “Jon.” 

“Lie still,” he tells her, seizing upon a cut on her arm with an almost savage fury. He rips off a bit of his coat, tying it tight as if that can staunch the blood flow. As if the arm is the real problem. She shouldn’t be alive. But she has to be, of course. She’s the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

“Jon-” She tries to sit up and cries out in pain and he guides her gently back down into the snow. “Jon, please-”

“You’ll be all right. We’ll fix you, there are healers back at Winterfell-” Maybe the blood isn’t all hers. Maybe some of it is Drogon’s and some of it’s from others. It doesn’t really have to be as bad as it looked. “It might hurt for a little bit but-”

“Jon, I shouldn’t be alive.” 

“Of course you are.” He can’t look at the blood, can’t think about it. His brain works on autopilot-he has to find the nearest soldier to take her to safety. “To your Queen!” The wind catches his voice and sends it flying away across the long and windy plain of the battlefield. “You’ll be fine, just fine-” 

She hacks up blood and when she puts her hand to the back of her head it comes away caked in red. Belatedly, he realizes that there’s blood on his clothes but he doesn’t feel hurt. “Jon-” A wight lunges for her and she screams-

-and Jon decapitates him with one quick swing of the sword. “Come on!” He has to shout to be heard over the wind. “We have to go, before more of them come!” 

“I can’t walk! Leave me, the Night King is waiting for you-” 

He picks her up and she screams in pain but he ignores it, ignores the blood all over his hands and the blood in her hair. “It’ll be fine”, he says. “Nearly there.” He can hear her heartbeat from under her armor; quick and fast, frightened. 

Even as he listens, it gets more and more uncertain. But it doesn’t stop. Part of him questions how he’s still standing, why she’s still breathing-but they’re so far past human limits that it barely warrants more than a thought.

They are not, in fact, nearly there. Everything looks the same. He doesn’t know where he is. The landscape is bleak and frozen, covered in the corpses of the living and the dead. Where is everyone, he wonders. “To your King!” The wind yells back at him and he can feel the blood freezing to his hands. 

“They’re all dead,” she whispers, as the seconds pass by and they don’t receive a reply. 

“No.” They can’t be dead. He can’t have failed them. He walks faster. 

“I’m tired-”

Fear spikes through him, hot and primal. “No. Don’t sleep yet. Keep talking.” The cold is seductive and sweet-a painless death, until it’s too late to realize it. 

She can’t die now, after all this. 

“Tell me a story,” she whispers. Her voice is so shaky it scares him. It feels like he’s losing her already. 

So he does. He tells her every story he can think of about the roaring fires of Winterfell’s great hall and the dragons in the sunlight and the first flowers of an early spring morning and half human half fish women who swim in the Narrow Sea and entice travelers, stories about warmth and heat and light and dragons. He talks until he can’t remember what the words mean and they run together and they all sound the same. 

Every so often he holds her too tightly and she lets out a hiss of pain. He’s avoided looking at her back thus far, knowing that after a fall from that height it can’t possibly be in peak condition. Or even any condition at all. 

A group of wights suddenly emerge out of the snow and he swears, setting her down gently and stepping in front of her to protect her. It’s time they can’t afford to waste. 

The first one lunges and he kills it before he realizes that his sword is moving. He kills them all before he realizes that he’s taken a step forward. He’s suddenly aware that he’s alive again; blood sings in his veins and he’s not afraid. There’s no time to be afraid when every moment counts. 

“I’m sorry,” she says when they start moving again. She’s crying, the tears freezing to her skin. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” The snow is up to his knees now and he has to wade through it, which slows him down even more. 

“I want you to know-”

“No. No goodbyes. You’re going to be fine.” His words are short and to the point; it hurts to talk. 

“But in case-”

“No.” He can feel furious tears pricking at his eyes and he’s not sure if it’s from the cold or his own anguish. “I know it all. Don’t waste your breath on what I already know.” He knows that she loves him, more than anything else except their child. He knows that she would do anything for him and for their people-even if it means sacrificing herself. “Nearly there.” 

He’s exhausted, so tired he doesn’t think he can walk another step…but he does, again and again. He leaves a trail of blood in the snow behind him. 

“You’re slowing yourself down.” 

He ignores her. “You said we would destroy the Night King and his army. You said we would destroy them together.” She’s barely warmer than the ice and snow around them and he knows he’s losing her and it’s all he can do to keep himself going with that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

The Night King materializes, flanked on all sides by the White Walkers. They’re outnumbered at least three to one. And he knows he can’t protect her. 

He presses a dagger into her hands. “Give them hell.” She nods, even as they close in around them. 

They tear her apart, no matter how hard he fights because he can’t fight them all off. He summons reserves of courage he didn’t know he possessed, even though he feels half dead himself-and still it’s not enough. He drops to his knees in the snow, feeling colder than the ground around him. 

But there’s no time to mourn or cry because they’ll come for him next and there’s no doubt in his mind that they’ll kill him but he’s going to take a few of them with him before he goes. 

He can’t think, he can’t feel, but he fights on. We all enjoy what we’re good at. But he doesn’t. He’s sick of war, sick of death. And yet he fights on-for her and for the child they left back at Winterfell, sleeping peacefully, now motherless. He won’t let yet another baby grow up orphaned. There will be time later to mourn, to let his world come crashing down around him. 

For now, there’s only the fight. 

So a lot of you sent in numbers for prompts and I promise I’ll get to them as soon as I can-I know a lot of you have been waiting a long time for your ideas to be filled and I’ll get to them as soon as I can. I don’t have as much time to write as I would like but I’m making it work. Please don’t remind me or ask me when they’ll be done because I can’t set deadlines I can just say that they’ll get done. Yes? Good. 

[jonerys-snowborn-scribe]

Worth It

Requested by an anon some time ago based on one of my headcanons actually. Jon and Dany reminiscing on the boat trip feat. Baby Targs. 

“Mama?” 

“Go to sleep, Rhaea.” She drew a hand through her daughter’s tangled hair, smoothing down the blonde curls. The boat rocked slowly underneath them. Rhaea hadn’t complained about it once-she loved the water, and sailing was second nature to her. Daenerys had wondered how she would do on her first boat ride so far north but so far she seemed to be loving it. Daeron slept next to her, already fast asleep. “We’ll reach White Harbor in the morning.”

“But I’m not sleepy.”

“You will be, if you lie still.” 

She pulled on another blanket and kicked it away just as fast. “Tell me a story.” 

“What story do you want to hear?” She smoothed down the pillow; this would take a while. “The dragons in the moon?”

She shook her head. “Tell me about Aemon the Dragonknight.” It had quickly become her favorite. But in her fantasies she was never Queen Naerys, waiting for her brothers to fight over her honor. She was Aemon, strong and brave, riding Ryarra around the back garden screaming war cries. For her last birthday she’d asked for her own practice sword and now she took it with her everywhere-it leant against the trunk at the foot of the bed, just in case she had to use it in the middle of the night. 

Rhaenyra told most of the story, skipping ahead through what she called ‘the boring parts’. “And they lived happily ever after?”

Not exactly. “They loved each other.” 

“Does that mean they were happy?” 

“It means that they tried.” She planted a kiss on her forehead and stood to go, but Rhaea’s hand shot out and pulled her back. “Good night-”

“Tell me a story about you and Papa.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “I thought the minstrels told you enough stories about us already.” 

“When did you realize that you loved Papa?” 

It was a question that caught her off guard, out of the blue. “I don’t-”

“I’ll go right to sleep. I promise.”

She rolled her eyes. “You should be asleep already?” 

“Please Mama?” Her eyes were wide and excited, and Daenerys knew she would be going nowhere fast if she didn’t start talking. 

She sighed. “We were on a boat-”

“Like this one?” 

“Very much like this one.”

“When? Did you love each other before Daeron was born?” 

“We loved each other before you were born, Rhaea. It was…” How to phrase it, how to make all the terrors and the things that went bump into the night into easy explanations that wouldn’t cause nightmares. “During the Long Night, your father and I sailed to Winterfell to-”

“Fight the White Walkers I know.” 

“Fine. We were both stressed and worried about leaving behind everyone we loved, unsure what was waiting for us in the North…but when I was around him, I didn’t worry so much. He gave me hope. And he was sweet and kind and good and brave and-”

The door opened and Jon stepped inside, looking surprised to see them still up. “I thought you’d be tired by now, Rhaea.” 

“I’m not tired,” Rhaenyra replied, even as she yawned. “I want to stay up all night.” 

“I don’t think so.” Jon sat down next to her and squeezed Dany’s hand, and she felt her heart flutter again even after all this time. “What are you two talking about?”

“A boat trip.” 

He looked at her with such a look of surprise on his face that she had to stifle a laugh. “What boat trip?”

“When you two went to Winterfell during the Long Night. She said that you made her worry less.” 

Dany could feel him looking at her curiously out of the corner of her eye. “I was just telling the truth.” 

“Papa, when did you fall in love with mama?” 

He knelt down beside her, accidentally knocking into her sword. Her wolf, Ryarra, came over to sniff at his fingertips and he stroked the top of her head-while Daeron’s wolf, Halcyon, lay at the foot of the bed. “Slowly. At first I didn’t realize it-”

“Why not?” 

“Because I was young and I thought I knew everything, but I really didn’t know anything.” 

Rhaea still looked confused. “But how did you know?” 

“Because, dear one, I realized that I couldn’t live without her. My world would be a very dark, very dangerous place. Don’t settle for someone until he makes you feel that way, Rhaea. If he could walk out of your life the next day and you wouldn’t feel bad about it-”

“That’s enough, Jon,” Dany cut in. “She’s only four.” By now Rhaenyra was yawning, snuggling into the soft down of the blankets. Within minutes she was asleep, dreaming peacefully. They watched her for a few minutes more, made sure Daeron was comfortable, and then retired to their own chambers. 

The boat was quiet. Most of the crew had retired to their cabins and only a few soldiers talked overhead as they climbed the rigging and cleaned the top deck. The wind howled across the choppy sea, but inside the cabin, safe in his arms, she felt warm and dry. 

At times like these, she could pretend that nothing had changed. Only a few years ago they’d made love in this same bed, murmuring that they loved each other over and over until the words ran together, until they no longer had meaning, until they were just sounds. 

And then every day, she would wake up next to him. Every day they would go out and rule the kingdom that they’d fought so hard for. They would see their children, their friends’ children, their dragons, grow up. 

Every day, they grew up living the happy ending that they’d all thought was impossible. 

“She’s full of questions, isn’t she?” Jon blew out the candle at their bedside, plunging the cabin into darkness, and pressed a kiss to the edge of her shoulder blade. 

“One day she’ll give us a question that we can’t answer. What’ll we say then?” 

“We’ll take it as it comes.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it’s real.” 

“We made it real.” That was why she could have nightmares that seemed so real she woke up in a cold sweat. That was why every cool breeze off the water made the hairs on her skin stand on end. That was why they could deal with the scars, physical and emotional. It had been more than worth it for everyone else. It had been more than worth it for him. 

“I love you.”

She smiled, moving closer to him, breathing in that smell that only he had. “Always.” 

Expect something on Ao3 within the next couple of days 

[jonerys-snowborn-scribe]

I just updated one of my jonerys multichapters on ao3!

You can read it here 

I was debating whether to update FaA or BiS, but I know it’s been a long time since I updated FaA and I had a little bit written….it’s not a lot unfortunately, but I figured that anything would be better than nothing. I wish I could promise another update soon but…I’m not exactly sure when that will happen. I’m going on vacation in mid December but until then work will probably be insanely busy (because I work at a movie theatre and apparently Thanksgiving/Christmas is the busiest time of the year). I will keep you updated. 

Points of interest in December: 

A longer Anastasia AU that’s about half written

An entry for my NTD series on Ao3 that has a wintry premise

A war wedding (I do have a peacetime wedding already written here) 

An outline of stories I would like to get accomplished in 2018

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! 

[jonerys-snowborn-scribe]

Baby Targs Masterlist

ie all of my fics starring the Jonerys children-will be updated as necessary

Rhaenyra

Baby

Sleepless Nights

His Little Dragon

Rhaenyra (Ao3) 

Daeron

Silence

Elaena

Dragonrider

A Perfect Day (dragons and direwolves) 

Visenya

Pain

Sisters

Love and Duty