Jon III

The search for Dragonglass leaves Jon full of discovery.

Chapter Five - Jon III

The grotto was almost pitch-dark, The only light was a faint glow of the passage back up to the larger cavern. He could barely make out the hazy shapes around him, but none of it mattered. Jon's eyes were shut tight against the wave of excruciating pleasure like nothing he'd ever felt. The cool cave stones pressed hard against his flushed bare skin, tempering the heat radiating from his body. He was lost in her, all the way inside her. The warmth of her weight straddling him, strong legs holding him in place. He gripped them, holding her down, pushing himself up as deep as he could, feeling her stretch around him, tight and warm, soft like velvet. Why did the gods make it feel so good? The world fell away, only the heat of her existed.

He looked up at her as her head fell back with a moan, her hips circling, slowing rocking on him. He could see the exposed throat he'd longed to bite, to rub his beard against until it was rosy red and bruised from his kisses. Her loose hair tumbling down her back, grazing his thighs, sending shivers everywhere. He tensed hard, pulling her down to him, burying his face in her neck, her hair, inhaling deep, the sweet smells that made him harder - of campfire and wildflowers - savoring every inch and detail. He'd stay like this forever, never letting her go. Deeper, deeper. She squeezed and willed him to the point of breaking, and he was almost there...

Jon woke from sleep with a gasp, panting hard, flushed with heat. The bed sheets soaked with sweat. Opening his eyes, still heavy with sleep, he scanned the shadowed room, forgetting for a moment where he was, the new morning light peeking through the nearby window. Not home, he lamented. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to steady his pounding heart coupled with an intense throbbing between his legs. It all felt so real. back in the cave - her scent, the way she rolled her hips back and forth...oh, gods...

The tension was more than he could bear, his hardness pulled tight on his pants, begging for attention. Jon inhaled deep, sliding his hand down his body and underneath his small clothes. He reached in, taking hold of himself, closing his eyes ...the feel of her surrounding him, pulling him as deep as he could go, squeezing and tensing, wet and delicious, she was breathless...

And with that, Jon released the built-up tension, thick waves of pleasure and relief settled over him, bringing him back down. For a long moment, he relished the quiet calm of the morning, the beating of his heart slowing as he steadied his breath and exhaled in admonishment. He found himself shaking his head to no one, his thoughts were so erratic, still swimming from too much wine last night, again. Drinking had become his crutch of late. As he found himself more unbalanced, wine became the only way to stop thinking so hard about everything all at once. Soon I'll be having full conversations out loud to myself. If he was indeed was going mad, I might as well be a little drunk while it happens.

But nothing took away the doubt more than looking up to the sky and catching an unexpected glimpse of Daenerys flying with her dragons. He would feel his chest expand, admiration filling him, wanting to be a part of this, of her, in some way. He admits it: I want her, all of her. Thoughts of her consumed him, he would find himself walking the cliffs, needing to feel the awe that magic was real in the world again.

His thoughts wandered back to that day on the path. Daenerys was bathed in the sunset, the smell of her so inviting, he moved as close as he dared. She was warm and cold, open yet rigid, and just when it seemed they were at an another impasse, she had yielded the high ground and gave him permission to mine the dragonglass. He was taken aback, not knowing how to respond; "Thank you" seemed best. Tyrion had worked his magic. Relief had rushed through him. Jon faced her, wanting to talk more about the army of the dead, but the queen turned away in disinterest. He looked at her still, imploring her to respond, but again, she dismissed him. She needn't do it a third time, he bristled. Their alliance already stood on shaky ground, he wouldn't push his luck. With a last questionable look, Jon walked away from her, determined to find Sam's fabled mountain of dragonglass and heed Sansa's sound advice.

Jon threw himself into the search, pushing everything else away. It was the only way he was going to get through this, No small talk, no distractions. No Daenerys. He spoke with the Dothraki and enlisted their help. As they found patches of dragonglass around the island, interests began to peak. It was a strange new material to everyone; the glass held its edge remarkably well and was as strong as stone. As the work became laborious and hopes of pinpointing the heart of the dragonglass vein grew, the excitement of discovery became a shared experience among all involved. The men would drink together around the evening table in the guest dining hall, excited to discuss where to dig next and ideas for new weapons; the Dothraki dream of an obsidian arakh almost within reach. Jon found comfort in those nights, the camaraderie of fellow warriors turned explorers eased his worries some. He let himself drink more without guilt, enough to lull him into deep sleep and vivid dreams only to repeat the routine the next day.

And then one morning, an accidental tumble of rocks while digging on the beach exposed a dark, tall cavern, a dim shimmer reflecting in the torchlight. They cleared the debris and realized what they had found. He looked at Davos with amazement, smile wide and unbelieving, they found the heart, it really existed. The men cheered and clapped each other on the back, drinking from their skins in celebration. He sent word to the queen, asking her to join him at the cave; he wanted to show her himself. Later that evening, they will celebrate at the Guest Tower and Jon would not be leaving early. He would even invite Queen Daenerys to join them.

And there she was, at the top of the steps to the beach that evening, more beautiful than ever. The sight of her reignited that warm tightness inside him, it was getting harder to push those thoughts from his mind. He imagined that no man could resist her and she knew it. Daenerys dismissed her guards and walk down towards him. She was immaculate, every inch a queen and conqueror, Jon diverted his eyes the closer she got, eventually turning and leading them toward the dragonglass cave.

Davos was waiting for them at the mouth of the cave. Jon took his torch and led them deeper into the darkness, following a windy narrow passage until it opened up wide into a massive cathedral of layered rock and dragonglass, stretching upwards as far as the eye could see. Millions of facets glimmering in the firelight, the cavern glowing in a dim purple orange hue.

As he turned, he had caught sight of the queen's reaction; staring up and around her, eyes wide in childlike curiosity, her lips parted in awe, breathless and beautiful. His body immediately reacted, gone was the dragon queen he'd come to expect, this was what he was waiting to see - Daenerys, Dany, whichever she preferred. The shadows of firelight danced across her face, and he couldn't wait another minute longer to be alone with her again. He wanted to take her deeper into the cave and show her the real treasure they'd found. She nodded to Missandei to stay and wait. Jon's eyes shifted to Davos who already had met his gaze with a raised eyebrow and a look of "good luck."

She stepped toward him and he handed her the torch, showing her down another deep narrow passage. He let her lead the way as he followed, enjoying the closeness of her. And when they stepped into the next cavern, her breath caught in disbelief; hundreds of symbols carved into the cave wall, surrounded them like stars in the night sky, flickering in the torchlight. It truly was an amazing thing to see; messages written in time long ago meant to convey the magic of this place for all eternity.

"The children of the forest made these," he told her. They moved along the cave wall, reading the story laid out before them, carved into the rock face. And in that conversation, she seemed to understand the magnitude of the discovery and its implications- this wasn't some fairy tale. The queen didn't have to believe him, the truth of it was staring at her, speaking to her, from history's own mouth.

And when she questioned it all again, bringing war and politics into ancient matters of life and death, Jon's frustration had resurfaced, it's not about that. His eyes swept over her, imploring her to see the writing on the wall, Jon needed to make her understand.

And before he knew it, he reached out, his hand encircled her small wrist, tugging her closer to him, to where he wanted her to go. Her eyes widened from the forward gesture, but she went with him willingly, brushing against him as she passed in the confines of the walkway. Her scent engulfed him, the wildflowers of his dreams, his body tensed at the movement. Jon was already on edge around her, so tempted to just pull her closer to him. Reluctantly, he let go of her wrist as the queen walked the torchlight further into the cavern and closer to the truth: the blue eyes of the white walkers staring down at them from the Long Night millennia ago.

"Because the enemy is real. It's always been real."

They stood there, arms' length apart for what felt like an eternity. And right in front of him, he watched Daenerys' wall of disbelief break down, shifting to hold his gaze for the longest moment he'd ever felt in his life. Jon had dreamed of being alone with her and here she was, opening up to the truth they needed to face together. He wanted nothing more than to reach for her, to kiss and hold her against the cave wall, his face buried in her neck. Jon had felt his heart beat faster, the warmth returning, spreading through him. He couldn't hide his longing anymore; longing for her to believe in him, to help him save his people from certain death. Jon was tired of being defensive, he just wanted to be open and honest with the integrity father had instilled in him. But mostly, with her so close, he wanted her, just her, more than anything. She was breaking him down, he could feel it.

Alone in the firelight, surrounded by the darkness of the cavern, Daenerys closed the distance between them. Jon shifted in anticipation and want, the wildflowers desperately calling to him. He wouldn't step back or look away. Keeping his distance all these weeks hadn't been easy nor what he ever wanted. The last shred of Sansa's advice was holding on by a thread.

Again, she demanded his fealty, but his allegiance belonged only to the North.

He remembered how he felt in that moment, the slow rise of hope within him dashed because her need to play these political games again. Why couldn't she understand? He needed to stay King in the North so when the time comes to fight for their lives, he could command the whole of his people at will for their shared survival. Without a king, the great houses would fall back to their castles, abandon the common folk, and slowly one by one, they would all succumb to the White Walker army. It was a condemnation of death if there wasn't a King in the North to lead them through to the Long Night. He would not let his people die because of her need for fealty.

And suddenly, the queen stepped impossibly close and spoke the words he once told Mance Rayder, echoing to him from a past life, his own sound logic for The King beyond the Wall to put aside his pride to save his people. He had remembered, he saw with his own eyes the consequences of Mance's decision. Defying fealty to Stannis Baratheon, Mance had sacrificed his own life, abandoning the now leaderless Freefolk who turned tail and headed for their last stronghold to wait out the winter, Hardhome. It was too much for him to bear, those memories flooding back. His thoughts flashed forward to his own future of consequences - he saw Winterfell in ruins, all those who followed him dead, only to be reborn as undead soldiers. Terror gripped him tight, he was at a loss, her words unnerved him into silence.

"I can't. I won't," was all he could say in response.

Her beautiful eyes squinted in knowing resentment, her anger rising again at his insistent defiance. The understanding between them was dying, her wall quickly rebuilding itself before his eyes. He had gotten a glimpse of the Daenerys he was dreaming of, he would not let her retreat into her queenly arrogance a second time.

"I would like to accept your invitation for dinner, late as it may be...if Your Grace's offer is still open. Tonight, perhaps?" he asked with a small smile of forgiveness. He decided to be forward, to hells with it. Maybe she'd see that he was trying to make this alliance work, even if it wasn't on her terms. He'll feast with his men another night. He had hoped for approval but braced for rejection.

"Yes, let's continue this discussion this evening," meeting his smile with her own as they turned and headed back out of the cave. Daenerys was formal yet more relaxed, he couldn't help but grin. There was more there than just her curiosity and respect for him and he knew it now. She'd gone deeper into the cave with him alone, held his longing gazes, and dared to step closer to him than propriety allowed. Jon had seen the change in her, gone was the stoic queen. Daenerys was open and responsive. He knew the wildflowers weren't an accident anymore.

Little did they know what fresh hells awaited outside as they were greeted by Tyrion and Lord Varys; Word of the Unsullied trapped at Casterly Rock, the fall of Highgarden, and the death of Lady Olenna.

She went from amenable Daenerys to ferocious Dragon Queen in a blink of an eye. All fire and rage, she had threatened to melt the Red Keep. She stormed at Lord Tyrion, questioning his loyalty, distrust was written all over her face. The queen sought Jon out in that moment, walking closer to him, her eyebrows knitted in worry, eyes wide with panic. Her voice wavering as she shockingly asked his advice. Her vulnerability was apparent, lost in confused anger, trying to make sense of what had happened, not knowing who to trust. He wanted to tell her it was okay to be upset, that she was still the strongest woman in the world, that she didn't have to be alone with her frustration. The best he could do was give her the most honest advice he could.

Jon repeated to Daenerys what he had told himself every day, in the face of hopelessness, overwhelming obstacles, and the need to be strong for those around him: He would fight until his end for his people but he will never knowingly put them in harm's way while he did it. The queen was the protector of the 7 kingdoms, she must act as such.

He hoped he had said the right thing, to keep her from burning King's Landing to the ground. He could see the struggle within her, wanting to take his advice while exacting well deserved justice for the death of Lady Olenna, a bitter vengeance for a pyrrhic victory. Maybe she thought he would be on her side, to roast Cersei alive, but he couldn't agree with her. He held her gaze, hoping she'd understand. But in the face of failure and the lost of Olenna and the Reach, she didn't want to see logic as an option. Daenerys composed herself, and with a distant look of confusion hinted with hurt and betrayal, she excused herself from the group and walked back to the castle alone. That was the last time he saw her.

No celebration dinners were held that evening. No more laughter in the dining hall nor sparring matches to practice for. Within days, the queen had dispatched her Dothraki to the mainland with Tyrion and her closest bloodriders in charge of battle plans. With the heavyweight of war at Dragonstone's doorstep, talk of White Walkers and dragonglass fell to the wayside. From what Davos heard, it took the whole of her counselors to get her to not to go into battle with her dragons. She had reluctantly agreed.

It was all for nothing, Jon had brimmed with bitter disappointment. Every day since he threw himself into mining enough dragonglass so he could leave this place as soon as possible. Every night, he drank himself to sleep.

There was a loud knock on the door, stirring him from his thoughts. It must be Davos, to be sure. Straightening himself as he got up, Jon walked over and opened the door to find his Hand anxiously waiting for him.

"Sorry to wake ya, Yer Grace, but I thought you'd want to know right away," Davos said, Jon giving him a wide-eyed, questioning look.

"While the castle slept, Queen Daenerys flew off to battle alone."