It had taken a long time, but skies finally showed them mercy. It was time for Daenerys to formally tell Jon what she had decided days ago.
“You’re saying yes?”
“I am.” Daenerys looked at Jon, his eyes full of elation and relief, diplomacy lost to the winds. He really had no idea. Based on what Varys had told her, she had concluded that reasonable enough doubt existed for White Walkers to exist, and there could be more harm in not investigating. In fact, her mind had been more or less made that very evening.
However, she needed to know how trustworthy, or otherwise, Jon Snow was. His honesty was to be admired and, as Varys had suggested to him, also profited from. While the poor man probably thought their idle chat was immune from polity, Daenerys was using them to get a first-hand measure of the king.
What Daenerys expected, she received over and above. She heard stories of him spying against and fighting a King-beyond-the-Wall, sheltering Stannis Baratheon’s men yet refusing the name of Stark, defeating Ramsay Bolton when his sister pleaded him to and being crowned King in the North despite not asking for it, tales all confirmed by Varys.
The question that kept occurring to her since the death of Tyrion, one she stowed away, may have found an answer. But, for the time being, she focused on the matter at hand. “On one condition,” she told Jon, replacing his jubilations with speculations.
“I have already agreed to bend the knee,” he told her warily. “What else do you wish of me?”
Daenerys said it. “You will fly with me.”
She caught the shock in his eye, and gave him reasons to quell it. “I am leading my children to the coldest area of the country, in search of things I thought to be myths a few moons ago,” she said. “I cannot separate Thenn lands from the Fist. I need to be with someone who knows the terrain, who knows where the Walkers were last. I do not ask you to mount Rhaegal or Viserion. You will sit with me and Drogon.”
Daenerys had planned to break this bittersweet news to Jon as soon as the weather cleared. She knew that he would tense under the possibility of heavy snows falling again, which meant the decision needed to be made immediately. The shock never subsided from his eyes, but it was of no surprise to her when Jon gave his assent.
With skies clearer, Jon told his men to advance to the Wall now, while she told Qhono, Grey Worm and Paxter Redwyne to prepare to march when she flew, so that when she returned, they could make haste on King’s Landing.
Since Jon was, understandably, apprehensive to mount the dragon, Daenerys did it first. As he nervously followed and positioned himself behind her, Daenerys felt relief that Drogon did not dislike him anymore. “Hold on to, something,” she said, before whispering the command to Drogon.
As the dragon slowly lifted in the air, so did Rhaegal and Viserion, and Daenerys Targaryen heard the gasps of Jon as he, with hands firm yet shaking, held on to her like his life depended on it. For it did.
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