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internallydeceased · 2 years

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Reverence

Jonerys/Snowstorm Season 8 Fix-it fic

One of my mutuals on Twitter got me to write this, and I'm honestly pretty proud of it. Season 8 was shit, but I did my best with what we were given.

CW: for grief, miscarriage, grief about miscarriage, aunt/nephew incest (they're Targaryens and it's Game of Thrones, this is pretty self explanatory lol), light smut

If any of these are triggering to you, please don't read! Follow me on Twitter where I post art and snippets of other things I write! X

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She could feel him pulling away from her, ever since he found out what they really were to one another. It hadn’t mattered to her, why should it? She was a Targaryen — he was too, though he hadn’t grown up as one — their ancestors wed brother and sister to one another for centuries, what Jon and Daenerys were to one another was innocent compared to that. Yet it hurt, Gods, did it hurt. Because she could still see how much he wanted her, how much he wanted things to go back to the way they were before he knew they were related, and yet he wouldn’t allow himself to. Couldn’t forget. She could feel herself tearing at the seams because of it. In this foreign place that should have been home, yet never had been. She saw the way people looked at her, the way they looked at her people: disdain in their eyes, curses on their tongues just waiting to be spoken. It didn’t matter that she was here to save them. It didn’t matter that she was putting her own war on hold for them, that she had brought her armies and her dragons — they would never see her as their savior. To them, she was a foreigner who had brought an army of savages to their lands. Someone who would use her dragons and armies to subjugate them, just like Aegon and his sisters did before her.

Yet that was never what she wanted. Wasn’t who she was. But how could they know that? How could she get them to see? She sought to free them from a tyrant who would use their lives against her, to build a new order just like she had done in Slaver’s Bay. She sought to free people from their chains, to give them the freedom to make their own choices. Breaker of chains. Mother of Dragons. Daenerys Stormborn. That was who she had been in Essos. Who she was at her core. Yet here in Westeros, here in the place that her ancestors had made their home but which had never been hers, the people whom she sought to rule only saw her as another tyrant. Someone who would put them in chains and rule over them with an iron fist. Master. Mother of Monsters. The Mad King’s daughter.Yet none of that mattered to her. She would earn their love here, just like she had done in Essos. She would show them that she would be a good queen. They would learn to see her for what she was, just like Jon had told her they would. And yet what did any of that matter if she lost the one person who meant more to her than any of that? The person who had made it all worth it. She couldn’t understand why the two of them being related mattered. When she found out that he was her brother’s son, she’d been overjoyed. Because finally, finally, she wasn’t alone. She was no longer the last Targaryen, she had him. And Gods, for it to be him!

The only other Targaryen she had ever known had been her brother Viserys, but he had been cruel and weak. And then she had heard what people had said of her father, the things that Viserys had said were lies, made up by the supporters of the Usurper. Barristan told her the truth of it though, they weren’t lies. None of them had been, her father had truly been mad. And Daenerys had done her best every day to make sure that she didn’t end up like her father, that the rumors of her being the Mad King’s daughter were unfounded.

Then there were the tales of her elder brother Rhaegar, and her mother as well. All of them Targaryens, and all of them gone. All except her.

And then it turned out that the man she loved was her brother’s son — the brother she had never known but desperately wished that she had — hidden away in the North as Ned Stark’s bastard for all these years. She wasn’t alone any longer, she had him. Sometimes when she looked at him, she wondered if he held any of her brother’s features. Wondered if he took after Rhaegar in some of the things he did, and thought that if her brother were alive today that he would be proud of the child he had made with Lyanna Stark.

So why couldn’t he see that, too? Why couldn’t he have her as she had him? Instead he clung to some foolish Northern belief, or perhaps it was something that had been instilled in him as a child that he never grew out of.

When she left Essos for Westeros, she had thought things would finally fall into place. She thought that after having spent her entire life in Essos, she would finally come home . And then she would be one step closer to taking back her birthright. And it had, at least at first. Only for it to all fall apart.

First, her allies had started to fall one by one. Then she had discovered that there was a greater enemy lingering in the North, an army of dead men that would see every life snuffed out and rule over a night that would never end. And she had brought her dragons Beyond the Wall on the word of a man whom she thought she could build something with, and had lost her dragon for it. Her child.

Viserion who had always been the sweetest of her three, who had always wanted to stay perched on her shoulder even after he had long outgrown it. Who had basked in the sun curled up at her side all throughout Slaver’s Bay, trilling and purring as she absentmindedly stroked his pale, heated scales.

Yet if she hadn’t lost him then she wouldn’t have seen. Wouldn’t have seen the danger the Army of the Dead posed to Westeros — the place she hoped to rule one day.

It was Jon who had shown her that. Jon was the entire reason why she was here in the North at all, because she loved him and because it was right.

And while she had been overjoyed when she found out that he was her brother’s son, she knew that it must stay between them. That if anyone else knew, it would destroy them. No matter how many times he proclaimed her as his queen, no matter how many times he bent the knee.

And then he had told his sisters anyway, and everything she had predicted had come to pass.

And now he stood before her as she sat beside the fire, the room dark aside from the flicker of the flames. At least he had the decency to look guilty.

“What did I say would happen if you told your sister?” Dany said, her voice sharp as though she were scolding a child. If only, if only.

Jon shook his head, his eyes closed. Gods, he looked exhausted . As though the entire weight of the world was on his shoulders, and she could see that it was wearing on him. “I don’t want it, and that’s what I told him.” He looked up at her then, as though afraid of what she might say.

“She betrayed your trust. She killed Varys as much as I did. This was a victory for her.” Dany swallowed, the rigors of the past few weeks catching up with her, tears hot behind her eyes though she wouldn’t let them fall. “And now she knows what happens when people hear the truth about you.”

She was tired, too. What she wouldn’t give to throw it all away and escape, to fly atop Drogon through the skies, with Jon on Rhaegal at her side. To find a place somewhere far away where they could just be.

Yet that wasn’t possible, not for her and not for him. They still had the war against Cersei to win. She wanted to break the wheel, to build a better world for the people who would come after her. It wasn’t about her, it never had been.

And yet, and yet.

It would all be so much easier if he ignored the misguided notion that their relation was wrong. It would be so much easier to just unite in marriage so that their claims to the Iron Throne would be one, and the realm wouldn’t fracture into a dozen pieces over which one of them should sit the Iron Throne and rule over Westeros once Cersei was defeated.

“Far more people in Westeros love you than love me.” She was breaking apart at the seams before the only man she had loved since Drogo. Perhaps even more than that . Her voice was starting to break with grief, with longing. For all that she had lost. “I don’t have love here. I only have fear.”

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

Jon looked up at her then, something burning behind those grey eyes that she wanted to say was longing. Longing for her. “I love you.” And the way he said it, she wanted to believe him.

“And you will always be my queen.”

Daenerys stood then, stepping towards him and closing the distance between them. Looking into his eyes as she spoke, deeply. Reverently.

“Is that all I am to you? Your queen? ” The last words come out in a whisper, her breath fanning against his lips. She leans in to kiss him then, to feel him against her because she needs him now more than anything. And for a blissful, fleeting moment, their lips seal against one another and it almost feels as though things are back to the way they should be. The way they’re meant to be. They get lost in each other again, in the feeling of their mouths moving against the other, their bodies pressing against each other. His hands around her waist and her hands on his face.

And then the moment is gone and he’s pulling away, his breath shaky and body tense. She can see the pain in his eyes as he does — the longing. Yet he pulls away anyway, and she can feel her heart break in her chest. Perhaps that should make it better — the regret on his face — but it doesn’t. If anything, it only makes it worse because he doesn’t even have the decency to say anything. No I’m sorry, no empty words meant to reassure her, nothing. Instead he just stands there, with that look in his eyes that says so much more than any words ever could, and at the same time, not enough. She steps away from him and turns back towards the fire, tears filling her eyes as her hand drops to her belly. For a long moment all that can be heard is the crackling of the fire and the shakiness of their breaths, the both of them standing there in uncomfortable silence, unsure of what to say. It’s Dany who breaks it. “Perhaps you were right.” When she speaks this time her words are stilted and sharp, all emotion having fled her voice though the tears in her eyes betray her tone. It’s a good thing he can’t see them, then. He looks up, confused. “What?” Her hand is still on her stomach, resting over the place where their child should have been. “About the witch. That she wasn’t a reliable source of information.” Her hand drops back to her side, after all there is nothing in her womb anymore. Nothing for her to cradle and protect any longer. Gone, just like Rhaego. Just like Viserion. A single tear rolls down her cheek and falls somewhere on the floor, forgotten. She turns to him then, unshed tears still gathered on her lash line.

She can see it on his face as he tries to piece it together, what it is exactly that she said and the implications of it. Until at last she sees realization dawn in his eyes, several more emotions flitting across his face. Confusion, hope, fear, guilt. He takes a step towards her, a hand reaching out before he stops himself short once again. Dany clenches her jaw and fists her hands at her sides. “Though perhaps not.” This time, there’s a tremble in her voice, even though she tries to keep it even. She’s breaking .

Jon’s brows furrow, his head tilting to the side in confusion. He can guess what she means, but he doesn’t want to believe it. Needs to hear her say it. “I lost it, Jon.” She pauses, swallowing down a sob. “I lost our babe.” The last words come out in a whisper, breathy and choked. It takes everything within her not to fall apart right then, despite how much she wants to — how much she needs to. If only for Jon to hold her again as she sobs, comforts her and whispering words of reassurance in her ear.

She looks down to the floor then, unable to look him in the eye anymore as he comes to the realization that she was pregnant. She was pregnant with his child and she lost it. She can’t bear it anymore, can no longer be the strong Queen she had always portrayed herself as.

Suddenly she feels a girl again, broken and alone in a place she doesn’t know. When Viserys had sold her to the Dothraki, before she had come to love the husband she had been sold to. Before she had lost Rhaego and before her dragons were born. She had been so lost then, and she felt the same now.

If I look back, I am lost.

A broken sob echoes throughout the room, and belatedly Daenerys realizes that it came from her. She’s shaking now, and she sinks down to the floor and wraps her arms around her knees as her body becomes wracked with sobs. For everything she had lost . How much more would she have to endure?

She doesn’t expect Jon to do anything, but he kneels down beside her and places a large hand on her back, and uses his other arm to gather her to him. He presses his face into her hair and shushes her, his hand rubbing circles on her back.

“ Dany, I…” When he speaks his voice breaks, and his words are cut off with a sob of his own. His eyes are shut tightly as he presses his face into her hair, breathing her in. Gods, he missed her. And Gods, how stupid he had been.

He takes her face in his hands and eases her head up gently so they can look one another in the eye, and the sight of her face wet with tears, crumpled in grief , it’s like a knife in the heart all over again.

He leans in and presses his forehead against her, his own brows furrowed in anguish. “ Dany, I am so sorry .” He whispers against her lips, her name a prayer on his tongue.

And he is, he is . He’d been a fool before, and only now can he see it. Now that the woman he loves is crying before him, the proud Dragon Queen on her knees and reduced to tears. All of it was his fault. She had come North for him. Lost her dragon because of him. And conceived and lost a child, because of him.

He closes his eyes to try and stop his own tears from falling, but it’s a futile gesture. Daenerys is still gasping through her sobs, struggling to suck in a breath deep enough to fill her lungs as they continue to wrack her body. Jon brings one hand to cup the back of her head, the other pressing a bit harder on her cheek.

He waits a moment for her breathing to come back down to a somewhat normal pace, and for her to look up at him once more. There are still tears pooled in her beautiful violet eyes, dark lashes still wet with them.

“ I love you. ” He breathes, and his words are full of reverence when he speaks them. And he means them. Gods, does he mean them. He had never felt this way about anyone, not even Ygritte. When he found out that Daenerys was his aunt he had pulled away. Because he thought it was wrong , and he was afraid of what people would think of him. Of them.

But suddenly, with this news that she has just given him, none of that matters anymore. For who is he, without her? What does any of it matter, without her? This beautiful, strong woman with her silver hair and violet eyes. He wouldn’t be surprised if someone told her they had pulled her straight from one of the songs.

And out of all the people in the world, she had chosen him. And he, like a fool, was ready to throw it all away because she was his aunt.

If it was wrong, then the Gods could punish him in one of the Seven Hells after he dies. But first he’ll live. And he’ll do it with Daenerys by his side, if she’ll have him.

Her bottom lip is trembling as she looks up at him, tears still streaming down her face and he can feel his heart break, too.

He isn’t sure what else he can say — what else he should say. He’d never been good with words, but he speaks anyway, letting them pour straight from his heart. Each word that falls from his lips matches every beat of his heart.

“And I swear to you, that I will love you. From this day, until my last day.” He kisses her forehead, his hand coming up to thumb some of the tears away. “I’ll never leave you again, I swear it.” His voice is barely more than a whisper — a breath, an oath, a promise.

They come together then, breaths shaky and mingling. They can taste the salt of their tears as they kiss, and they pour every word and promise that has been left unspoken into it.

I’m sorry. I love you. I am yours, and you are mine. I will spend the rest of my days by your side.

When their bodies come together this time, it’s nothing like the desperate, needy thing it was on the ship. This time, it’s slow and reverent. They take their time undressing one another, stripping each other to their barest selves. They take the time to memorize each new inch of skin that is exposed to them, every dip, curve, and line.

When Dany’s flat stomach becomes exposed to him, Jon caresses it with his hand, his thumb smoothing circles right above her navel. An unspoken apology.

He wonders then, just how long she kept the loss of their child to herself. Wonders how long she knew she was with child before she lost it. How big did their child grow? What would they have been like?

It’s something he’ll never know, and he’ll spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

Then he leans in to place a long, lingering kiss to her belly, this time a promise. Another, we’ll make another.

You’ll never be alone again. He swears, spells out each letter with his tongue in between her thighs.

This time, the tears that fall from her eyes aren’t from grief, but from pleasure. Her head is thrown back, silver-gold hair pooled around her head in a halo, glimmering in the firelight. Jon would say that she was one of the Gods herself, the way she looked in that moment.

He eats her out like a man starved, there isn’t an inch of her cunt that he doesn’t lavish with his lips and teeth and tongue. He doesn’t stop until she’s come twice and she’s pulling away from over-sensitivity, breathless — his name a mantra on her lips.

He comes up to kiss her, and she can taste herself on his lips and tongue, his beard still slick with her release. He sheathes himself inside her in a single thrust, her cunt opening up and welcoming him eagerly.

Her walls clench and flutter around him, the remnants of her last orgasm drawn out by his cock thrusting lazily inside her.

Both of their mouths are opened in wordless screams, their breaths mingling, every inch of their bodies pressed up against each other— so there is not a single part of them that is not touching the other. They consume one another thoroughly and completely, until they don’t know where one of them ends and the other begins.

They kiss and mark every inch of skin that is exposed to them, everywhere they can reach from the position they are in.

Their eyes meet then, in the darkness of the room illuminated only by the flickering of flames in the hearth. And in their eyes they say everything that their mouths cannot, everything their bodies cannot. And then they’re coming together, Jon spilling himself deep inside her and each of them silently prays that it’ll take root and her womb will quicken once more.

And when Cersei is defeated, Jon and Daenerys take the Iron Throne and rule over the Seven Kingdoms as King and Queen, Ice and Fire united as one. It should be no surprise then, that their silent prayers are answered and they welcome the daughter each of them has always wanted. A little girl with silver hair and grey eyes, the best of both of her parents.

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