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Of Gods and Dragons

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Once the door closes behind the women, Jon turns back to Arya.

"My, my Jon," she muses. "You sure know how to pick them."

He lets out a laugh at that and shrugs. They sit in comfortable silence before his expression turns serious as he looks at his favorite sister.

"What do you think of her," he asks.

She scrunches her forehead in thought for a moment before meeting his eyes and answering. "I can't say I don't admire the hells out of her. She's done what I always wanted to do as a child- forged her own path in pursuit of what she wants, disregarding normal societal standards and not caring what others thought. And you know how dragons fascinated me so that's an added plus."

"Now does that mean I'm going to accept her with open arms and completely trust her and her company? Absolutely not. But I also won't be giving her the Gift," she tells him.

He sighs to the last statement. "Well, I guess that's all I can ask for," he tells her dryly.

She sends him a smirk before shrugging. "But, it doesn't really matter what I think of her if you love her," she tells him honestly.

He raises an eyebrow at that. "Even though she's my aunt," he asks sarcastically.

She waves the question away. "Isn't that supposed to be the norm for Targaryens?," she asks cheekily as she rolls her eyes.

Again, he laughs. "Oh, little sister," he says fondly, "how I have missed you."

The air of nonchalance she wears like a second skin suddenly falls as her grey eyes meet his own. He can see the vulnerability in her features and she now looks more like the girl he knew growing up. He silently opens his arms and she jumps in them without hesitation.

"I've missed you so much, Jon," she tells him, clinging to him as though she's afraid he will vanish.

"I know," he tells her gently as he rubs her back in soothing circles the way he did when she would come to him, crying over how Sansa was the perfect lady and she was useless.

"I don't want you leave us again," she says into his neck.

"You know I have to fight, Arya," he says.

"I know that. But I meant after," she responds.

"After?," he asks, unable to follow her thoughts.

"After the war, you'll go South with her," she says as she begins to play with the strings on his tunic.

Finally understanding what she means, he sighs in exasperation. "Arya, let's focus on one war at a time. We need to actually win and survive this one before any of us can even think of what to do after."

"But you will," she says knowingly, refusing to drop the subject until she gets an answer. Her tone is so despondent, it makes him hug her closer.

"Most likely," he quietly acquiesces. "She has no one left in the world, Arya. And you're right, I do love her."

"I just got you back," she whispers.

He sits in silence as he tries to figure out what to say in response when it hits him.

"You're forgetting a very important fact, sweet sister," he says in an uplifting tone that surprises her enough to lift her head from his shoulders and pull back to look at him.

"What?"

"I now have the means to come here whenever I can and it will only take me a day or two to get here," he says with a wide grin on his face.

She realizes what he means and suddenly grins back at him. "You do, don't you?"

"Yes. And you can bet that I will be up here so much, you'll get sick of me," he says then he ruffles her hair.

She ducks out from under the offending hand and jumps off his lap as he laughs.

"I still hate that," she says as she tries to fix her hair.

He smiles at her and says, "I think it's time we go bed." He gets up and stretches his arms over his head. "Tomorrow is back to the task at hand."

She nods solemnly and makes her way to the door.

"Goodnight, Arya."

"Goodnight, Jon," she says before exiting the solar.

After he blows out the candles, he looks at Ghost. "Come on, you," he says while he holds the door open. The direwolf gets to his feet and silently follows.

He quietly makes his way down the halls. Only the night watchmen are still up at this time.

Once he reaches his room, he takes off his cloak and gloves before he adds another log to the fire. He then removes his sword and daggers and places them down. As he begins taking off the layers of clothing, he thinks over the day.

While it might not have been the most productive day in regards to planning, it was a much needed respite from everything they've all been dealing with and will have to deal with soon enough. They've planned and prepared as much as they can, have come up with ways to handle and respond to the many scenarios that could happen, and have talked to all the lords and commanders of each army. Now it is only a matter of actually preparing the fire defense lines and making sure everyone knows where they need to be. But there's only so much gloom a person can take before they lose it.

He's quite sure he's never laughed as much as he did today. From interacting with Rhaegal and flying for the first time, to getting to sit and talk to his family and friends, to being playful and bold with Daenerys.

The last thought brings a smirk to his lips and it's as though his mind called to hers because there's suddenly a soft knock on his door.

He walks across the room and opens the door to find her waiting with a soft smile gracing her lovely lips. Her hair is unbound and she's holding clothes in arms.

He doesn't say anything as he opens the door wider and she doesn't say anything as she enters. He's struck with a sense of deja vú of their first time together on the ship only this time, their roles are in reverse.

She sets the clothes in her hands over a chair before taking her boots off and neatly setting them by the chair. When she turns to face him, he raises an eyebrow and looks quickly to the clothes then back to her.
She shrugs in response and says, "If I get caught in the morning coming from the direction of your rooms, I figured it would be wiser to be seen in fresh clothes. And I'd rather not have to wake up before dawn and walk around during the coldest hours in only my night wear."

"Always the clever one, my queen," he teases as she removes her cloak.

"Did you expect anything less," she asks while she hangs the cloak up before turning to him again.

But he can't answer because she's standing before him in nothing but a shift. With the harshness of the Northern winter, it's not as revealing as the one she wore when he came to her on the ship, but it's enough to excite him.

They haven't been intimate together since the revelation of his birth. They've been orbiting around each other as though they are locked in an intricate mating dance. Neither one closing the distance but not moving away either.

And he's had enough of it.

His eyes roam over the shape of her body the shift shows as he feels a visceral pull in his stomach that has him instinctively stepping closer to her. He ends up standing toe to toe with her as his eyes lock onto her violet ones. He slowly brings his fingertips up to tuck a strand of her silver hair behind the shell of her ear then his fingers lightly brush along the side of her neck down to trace across her collarbone to the tip of her shoulder.

The action causes goose flesh to appear and her breath hitches slightly. In response, he takes in a hard breath of his own through his nose, never taking his eyes off her.

He continues to trace along the edges of her body, dragging his fingers along the side of her breast before feeling the dip of her waist and ending on the curve of her hip. They curl around it to pull himself even closer to her, needing to remove even the smallest distance between them.

He dips head down and his lips copy the trail of his fingers as he presses them right under her ear. He takes a deep breath as he lets the smell of the oils she uses fill his senses. It's a heady mixture of orange blossoms, tangerines, and nutmeg with an underlying smell of embers that always makes his mouth water. But the way they now blend seamlessly with the traces of snow, has his mind completely shutting down and all he knows is this smell and the soft skin under his roving lips.

She tilts her head to give him more access to her neck and lets out a small, breathy sigh when he nips at juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"Jon," she whispers.

He hums against her skin as hips lips continue their slow journey to her collarbone, his fingers pulling the shift aside to expose the skin underneath, refusing to pull away from her skin to give an actual response.

"May I ask what you're doing?" Her voice is still a whisper.

"I thought that was quite obvious," he murmurs as he moves to her other shoulder, moving the shift aside again before his lips taste her skin.

She huffs a silent laugh. "Yes, but you know I didn't come here for that."

He pulls back at that in confusion and looks at her, waiting for her to continue. He can't help but notice how her cheeks are a lovely shade of light pink and her pupils are large when they meet his own as she tries to collect herself.

"I don't want to ask for more than you're ready to give," she says quietly. "We can't afford to do anything that could cause regret later on. Not with what we're about to face."

The insecurity she shows him causes his throat to tighten and his chest to constrict. The trust she has that he won't ever use that against her makes his body warm.

"You're right," he says just a quietly, "we shouldn't do anything we'll regret."

Her eyes quickly flash with her sadness but it's gone with next blink. She swallows and nods as she heads towards the bed, but he grabs her wrist before she can move away.

"And I would regret nothing more than not showing you how much I love you," his voice confident and firm.

She sucks in a quick breath and the corners of her lips quirk up as she looks into his eyes.

Unable to wait a second longer, he grabs her face and presses his mouth to hers.

Her lips open the second his tongue asks for entrance and then hers dances around his own.

His hands move from her face and reach down to grab her waist and lift her up so that she's level with his mouth. Her legs around his middle and when she rubs up against his hardness, he moans into her mouth, losing the last of his control.

He he pushes her back against the tapestry covered wall to balance her so that his hands can freely trace every peak and valley he can find as his lips never stray from his hers. The softness of her skin against his calloused and burnt hands causes him to grind into her in hopes of relieving some of the strain his need is causing him.

Her fingers are in his curls, they scrape against his scalp before she takes one hand to run along his jaw. Her nails going through his beard, the hairs prick against her fingers as she moves them to cup his jaw.

His lips and teeth are sucking and biting at her lower lip, his tongue tracing the inside of her mouth in attempt to make sure none of her goes untasted.

She pulls away from his lips with a gasp as she takes huge gulps of air.

He takes a few deep breaths himself before her attaches himself to her throat. His fingers move up to cup her breast through her shift and she arches into him as he begins to move his thumb back and forth over the peak while his fingers gently knead the surrounding flesh.

"Jon, please," she moans. He can feel the wetness of her center soaking the front of his pants. The feeling and the fact that she just begged him causes a low growl to emit from his throat and she responds to it by tightening her legs around him.

His lips move to her ear and his voice is low and husky as he whispers, "What do you need?"

"You," she rasps out as her grip tightens even more, "I need you. Always you. Only you. In my body, by my side, no matter where I go."

Her confession causes him to snap. He sets her down and tears the shift off her faster than either thought possible. He then pulls his tunic over his head while she unties the laces of his trousers and they fall around his ankles.

She doesn't have a chance to admire his body because as soon as he lets go of the tunic, he grabs her up again and attacks her mouth with renewed vigor while he lays her down on his bed.

He settles himself between her thighs, the wetness coming from the tip of his length rubs against her own wet center and causes him to hiss into her mouth.

He quickly moves his lips to her ear again. "I will taste you, but not right now."

Then he braces his weight on his elbow, uses his other hand to lift her knee up and thrusts into her. The sensation causes both to gasp and moan. Her nails are moving all over his back and shoulders, trying to find purchase as his lips find hers again.

He begins a slow, steady pace. Pulling out almost all the way before he pushes back into her, circling his hips into hers in a way that allows him to hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her. Every time he hits it, she mewls and arches her hips up even more.

He releases her mouth to suck the skin of her shoulder, making sure not to leave any marks where her clothes are unable to cover.

"Yes," she moans when he bites down on a sensitive spot.

Her hands grip the top of his ass, trying to push him deeper and harder into her as the leg he's not holding up wraps high around his waist. The move allows him to go even deeper and his rhythm picks up. His hand moves from her knee to grip her rear and begins pulling her up to meet the hard descent of his hips.

He pulls back to look in her eyes as he feels the heat begin to boil in his lower belly. Her eyes are shiny with her desire and a much deeper emotion that lights a fire in his soul. He briefly wonders if this feeling is the dragon he now knows resides in him emerging and raging at finally finding another one. Like answering to like.

The only sounds in the room are the slapping of skin against skin and the breathy moans and whispered words occasionally slipping from their mouths.

He can tell her release is near with the way her walls begin to clench tightly around him. He reaches between them and begins to rub her most sensitive spot in sync with his thrusts. Her mouth drops open at the added sensation and he speeds up his thrusts even more.

He watches her face as her eyes close and she keens in pleasure. Her walls flutter and he can feel her release flow over his length. He lays himself right on top of her, their skin covered in sweat, and rutts against her in search of his own release. His head falls next hers, his breaths coming out in hard bursts, his body undulating like the sea.

After several hard thrusts, he pushes as far into her as he can and fills her with his warmth, a deep low moan escaping from his lips.

He opens his eyes and looks down at the beauty beneath him. Her eyes are glazed with sated pleasure and a dreamy smile on her lips. She reaches up to capture his and he obliges happily to her request, kissing her softly.

He feels himself softening inside her and rolls onto his back while keeping a hold on her so she lies on top. Once she settles into a comfortable position, he kisses her forehead and moves her hair off her shoulder and away from her neck to help cool her down. She hums in appreciation and begins lightly tracing his scars.

"Thank you," he whispers against her hair.

"For what?," she asks, not raising her head off his chest.

"For today."

She looks up at him now, her eyes soft. "Of course," she murmurs before kissing him softly. She settles back down and goes back to tracing his scars. When she leans over to kiss the one above his heart and places her hand over it, he shuts his eyes against the onslaught of emotion that simple gesture brings.

He stares at the ceiling for a while, listening to how her breathing slows as she drifts to sleep. When his own eyes begin to droop, he pulls her flush against him and buries his nose in her hair. He surrenders to sleep with the feel of her heart beating against his chest and the smell of orange blossoms and nutmeg filling his lungs.