#gorgeous jonerys art
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But why do you think jonsa wasn’t more foreshadowed if they’re the main romantic pairing?
Well, I think we have comparable foreshadowing, often as a positive contrast to Jonerys foreshadowing which the entire fandom believes is the big romance of the series, so I’m gonna challenge your premise and argue that it isn't the lack of foreshadowing for Jonsa that you're noticing, but the fandom's refusal to accept it. I believe that's because Jonsa is a threat to their priors (Jon and Dany are the heroes, they will meet, fall in love, and defeat the Others together, something that is impossible to believe when Martin says things like this) rather than it being a fair evaluation of the existence or merit of our foreshadowing.
Below I'll point out a few kinds of foreshadowing/examples and present the similar Jonsa version so you can see what I mean.
The premise for Jonerys seems to be that every similarity in their arcs is a parallel, but they are actually contrasts if you read closely (fedonciadale's post about that), and Sansa too has parallels with Jon as you can see in @thewindsofwolves's beautiful parallel series. Their similar journeys are also captured in this gifset and this gorgeous art, and it is certainly intentional, as Sansa seems to pattern Alayne in part on Jon ie we're being told she's getting to experience parts of his life. And, unlike Dany whose plan to conquer Westeros puts her at odds with the Starks, Sansa and Jon are written as having the same, very simple, compatible dream,
If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya. (ASOS, Sansa II)
I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. (ASOS, Jon XII)
If we're looking for a romance, foreshadowing that is about a personal relationship, this seems pertinent? And then there's Jon's desire to rebuild Winterfell, and the scene of Sansa literally building it out of snow:
Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it. Surely his father would have wanted that, and Robb as well. They would never have wanted the castle left in ruins. (ASOS, Jon XII)
The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs, a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. (ASOS, Sansa VII)
Those two, back-to-back chapters, are absolutely full of parallels. They share a dream, and upon their reunion, will have a common purpose. I'll also link my post about how Sansa's forced marriage to Tyrion has connections to Jon's relationship with Ygritte, and @stormcloudrising's post about the similarities between the interactions of Sansa and the Hound & Jon and Ygritte. There are tons of these, but you get the idea. If we're looking for parallels between experiences, we have them.
Now, a popular method of finding foreshadowing is chapter order, but Jonsa has that too. Here's a 2018 post by @julibf that talks a bit about it, and @istumpysk's ASOS recap talks about that here and here.
There are two moments I've seen Jonerys shippers point to quite often as foreshadowing. Jon and the moon, Dany and the wolf. But the thing is, Sansa is the sun, and one of the "Jonerys" (Jon and the moon) passages has Jon running away from the moon to the cave with the sun (fedonciadale's post about that). The wolf moment also has a Jonsa contrast:
Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. As the moon rose above the grasslands, Dany slipped at last into a restless sleep. (ADWD, Daenerys X)
All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains. (AFFC, Alayne II)
Far be it from me to say that Dany hearing a wolf but being lost to her desires and Sansa hearing a wolf, a ghost wolf, and finding it an overwhelming presence (mountain) means something, but if one does, the other does too. And if we're reading them both as foreshadowing, I think there are some reasonable, and unreasonable conclusions to draw from them. So, you can see why imo the fandom employs a double standard in how they weigh the merits of foreshadowing and interpret one as nonexistent and the other as real and positive.
Another oft referenced bit is Dany's vision of the blue flower and the dream of the shadowy lover, so I'll link some analysis of those that I think is far more...uh, shall I say, contextualized. There are @agentrouka-blog's posts on Winter Roses here and here, and her tag for it if you're interested in really exploring it thoroughly. There’s fedoncidale's post about it, her post about the shadowy lover, and @ladyofasoiaf's spec about how the shadow lover foreshadowing is actually Euron.
Oh, and I almost forgot Val who I've seen brought into the picture as foreshadowing for Dany, but there's a funny thing with her hair which again, if we're gonna look at her hair color and say she's a stand-in for Dany, we should be able to look at it and say, ok, but that means over here she's a stand-in for Sansa, and besides, the connotations for Jonerys there are very bad as discovered by @wintersnow39.
Basically, I don't think there's a lack of foreshadowing, I think there's simply a bias in the fandom that rejects Jonsa foreshadowing while happily accepting incredibly similar foreshadowing for other couples.
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Hi! I’ve been reading a lot of your posts! They’re amazing and you have great insight about this wonderful series! And I was hoping if I could ask you a few questions. Do you think Jonerys will happen in the books (and I am sure you would agree with me that it will not happen the way it happened in that hack written atrocity of a season)? Also based on that gorgeous calendar art, do you think Rhaegar and Lyanna will be a big part of Winds? And also what do you think will be Dany’s ending in the books? Do you think she’ll live and become Queen? I hope for that but I will be happy as long as she survives.
Hello!
Thank you so much for this huge compliment! It means a lot.
Jonerys is totally going to happen on the books. No doubt here. It remains to be seen if it will happen only in the platonic sense or in the romance one as well, though. Given the foreshadowings we already have on the books, I vouch for the latter. Their partnership will be the core of the fight against the Others and unite both magical and political sides of ASOIAF.
Rhaegar and Lyanna will have even more relevance on TWOW, no doubt here as well. After all, they're the central mystery of the story, brought up over and over by other characters in the current timeline. I'm so eager to read more about them!
Well, when talking about ASOIAF's ending, we have to consider a few things:
1. the show ending has nothing to do with the book ending. They're completely two different stories now, given how GoT butchered the source material. The characters's names are the only thing they have in common.
2. GRRM has a gardening approach to writing. If some particular plotline strikes his fancy whilst he's writing, he'll make it happen. I would say it's the same regarding the ending of his books. He may have a vague idea of what he wants to achieve, but that can change. However, his endings make sense. The Dying of the Light and a Fevre Dream, two of his standalones, are examplem of that. His endings are truthful to his characters and to the themes he he explores on his stories. Dany and Jon are two of the main heroes of ASOIAF, so I tend to believe GRRM will do them justice.
3. GRRM likes bittersweet endings, yes. But bittersweet ending ≠ nonsensical ending. A bittersweet ending is even different from a tragic ending.
I'm sure Dany is going to survive. If she'll be the queen of Westeros by the end, I haven't made up my mind about that yet — though Dany is already a queen in her own right, in Meereen.
Thank you so much for the ask! 🥰
#ashter answers#a song of ice and fire#george r. r. martin#jonerys#snowstorm#rhaelya#daenerys targaryen#jon snow
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For some reason, I always arrive late to your art but every time I see it my brain collapses at how gorgeous it is. Your jonerys pieces are absolutely stunning and beautiful. I love them all. Thank you so much for sharing it.
omg thank you so much!! I haven't checked my account in forever and I'm not sure how long this has been sitting in my ask box for, but thank you thank you this is so so sweet of you to say xoxoxoxox
(I should get back to it, I really should...)
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baby I’ll come back to you: coming soon
Well folks, since my current wip, where the wild things are, is winding down (there’s only one chapter left WHAT) and I’m taking off March/ early April from posting anything to focus on finishing up my remix fic(s) on time, I wanted to share a sneak peek of my next wip (mostly just so I could show off @dragonanddirewolf‘s BEAUTIFUL beautiful art.) So here it is: the long-awaited Jonas Brothers au (sorta), which I hope to start posting in late April. I am really excited to start working on this fic, and even more excited to share it with everyone! Hopefully this little preview intrigues you and gets you as excited to read it as I am to write it! And tides you over while y’all wait for my next update, since I am incapable of really working on more than one project at a time. WHOOPS. Anyways, here it is, so enjoy!!
It feels like it’s been a bloody age since he’s actually seen both Robb and Theon in the same room.
He spots them the moment he steps into the coffee shop, even though they’re tucked away in a back corner, away from prying eyes. Jon keeps his head down as he maneuvers through the crowded café, sunglasses still on even inside, just in case people are looking his way. It’s an old habit he has yet to break— out of the three of them, he certainly gets recognized the least nowadays, which is probably why all the tabloids claim he’s fallen off the face of the planet. Theon’s been doing movies, Robb was in a new band and is married to probably the most famous woman in the world, and Jon— well. He’s been living, best he can. Getting better, all of that bullshit. But truly, he hasn’t done anything like his brothers have in the past five years, so people don’t recognize him as much. Enough to squint at him in an I-know-you’re-famous way, but not enough to rush him like they do Robb whenever he steps foot outside his house. He outgrew his nineteen-year-old baby face and started tying his hair back, and all of a sudden it’s like he’s wearing a mask.
Jon’s not sure how much longer that will last, though, because he has a feeling he knows why Robb’s asked them to meet him here today.
“Jon,” he hears that familiar voice call, and he nods towards the two men at the back table, head still down. The last thing they need is the paps recognizing them, starting to spread rumors about the three of them all together again.
“Hi,” Jon says, slipping into the booth, finally taking off his sunglasses. Light from outside streams in through the large windows, the busy sprawl of King’s Landing right before them. Theon slaps him on the arm in greeting; Robb smiles at him in that way he does now. That way that looks like everything’s fine, but where the light doesn’t quite meet his eyes.
Gods, he can’t remember the last time his brother actually looked truly happy to see him. Probably before their last tour.
He knows why, of course. Robb would never say it, but Jon knows that he blames him for the breakup. For everything.
“Bloody hells, Jon, it’s been an age,” Theon says, grinning at him. “Where’ve you been?”
“I’ve been here,” he responds, crossing his arms. “You’re the one who was off filming that movie for three months.”
“Aye, how did that go?” Robb asks, gaze turning to Theon, that guarded look disappearing. “I haven’t seen you since you got back. You missed Rose’s birthday party, you know.”
“I know,” Theon grumbles. “I’ll make it up to her, I promise. I have to maintain my favorite uncle status.”
They chat for a while— mundane things, catching up. Theon tells them about the movie he’d just wrapped on. Robb shows them both a million new photos of his children. Jon keeps quiet, just listening. It’s… nice, to be back with both of them, the warm sunlight spilling in through the window, making Robb’s eyes shine like they used to when he was younger. It makes him forget, for a moment. Wish for those days back, when the three of them would spend every moment of their time writing music, pouring their hearts and souls into their careers. It was something so fleeting and magical, he’s not really sure he’ll ever find anything like that again.
Jon realizes he’s lost track of the conversation when Theon clears his throat, looking at the two of them almost nervously, in a decidedly un-Theon-like way. “I’m glad we did this,” he says to them, “because I wanted to tell you both.” He pauses, looking at Robb, as if trying to gauge his best friend’s reaction before he even says anything. “I’m going to ask Sansa to marry me.”
Robb’s eyes get comically wide, so much that Jon chuckles, ducking his head. But it only takes his brother a moment to recover, before he’s grinning widely, eyes sparkling in a way Jon hasn’t seen them in a long time.
Or maybe that’s just because Jon seldom sees Robb anymore.
“Wow,” Robb says, almost speechless. “That’s— that’s brilliant, Theon. Congratulations!”
“Well, I haven’t asked her yet,” Theon says, giving Robb a look. “Don’t go cursing me or something now. She’ll go on and say no.”
“You think she would?” Jon asks. Theon shrugs.
“I don’t really, but— hells, I don’t know.” He gives Robb a look. “How did you know it was right when you asked Margaery?”
Robb huffs in laughter. “Oh gods, don’t take advice from me on that,” he says, raising his hands in surrender.
“What do you mean?” Theon demands. “You’re the only one of us who’s bloody married!”
Jon looks down as the sudden feeling of coldness creeps in, like an icy dagger to the heart. Memories flash before his eyes, and he’s trapped back in the past, glimpses of hair like moonlight and teasing smiles dragging him down, drowning him.
He still has that diamond ring somewhere— buried in the back of a drawer, probably, where he won’t stumble upon it. Seeing it is too painful, but getting rid of it— well. That’s painful in an entirely different way.
“Aye, but Margaery made it easy for me,” Robb says. “She wrote a whole bloody album that basically told me she was waiting for me to ask her.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Y’know I still get asked if I married her with paper rings.”
At that, Jon snorts, a little of the darkness lifting. He’s seen his goodsister’s engagement ring, and it is certainly not made of paper.
Jon tunes out as Robb continues on, reassuring Theon. He doesn’t realize he’s being addressed until both men are staring at him expectantly.
“Sorry, what?” he says, and Robb rolls his eyes amiably.
“I asked, what have you been doing, Jon?” Theon repeats, and Jon shifts uncomfortably. Nothing, is really the most honest answer. Working out. Walking Ghost. Trying to keep his mind occupied and himself sober.
It’s probably sad, to look at his life now, compared to what it used to be. When he was nineteen years old he was touring the world, singing for millions of fans, writing songs every single minute of every single day. Music was most of his life. And now he’s just— trying to get by, he supposes. It’s sad, but it’s what he’s become accustomed to. Just… making it through the day, one day at a time.
“Er, not much,” he admits. “Not like you two, anyways.”
Robb glances up at him, that guarded look back in his eyes. “Arya told me you’ve been writing again,” he says, quietly. Jon curses mentally— he never should have told her that.
“Fuckin’ tattletale,” Jon grumbles. But he can tell from Robb’s expression he’s not going to drop it. “Aye, I have been,” he admits, heaving a sigh. “Not anythin’ good. Just… I dunno. I missed it, I guess.”
“I miss it too,” Theon says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Acting is fine, but music… it’s something different, isn’t it?”
“Aye, it is,” Robb agrees. “Margaery’s been workin’ on her next album, and it makes me think back to then. When we’d just crowd around the table in Mum and Dad’s living room, and Jon would come up with a lyric, and Theon would just hear how it should sound, and we’d write a song in an afternoon.” He sighs, a little wistfully, looking down. “Watching Margaery at the piano, it just…”
“Feels like a part of you is missing,” Theon supplies.
Jon doesn’t answer, but he knows what they mean. Maybe that’s why he began songwriting again. Not because he wants to have a music career anymore— just because it’s so ingrained in him, he doesn't really know what to do with himself if he’s not making music. And if he’s being honest, writing down lyrics, coming up with a melody on the guitar or the piano that mainly just collects dust in his living room… there’s a comforting familiarity to it. Like maybe his sense of self hasn’t been completely destroyed. Maybe some of the old person he used to be is buried down deep.
“Do you ever think about it?” Theon asks, and Robb’s brow furrows. “Y’know. The possibility of… us. Getting back together.”
Robb exhales slowly. “More than I should,” he says. “I… it’s really hit me, in the past few years. How much I miss it. And doing things by myself, or with other people, it’s just not the same.”
“Aye,” Jon agrees, both Theon and Robb looking a little surprised at the fact that he’s participating in this conversation voluntarily. But he knows what Robb means. He did solo things after the breakup, just because he didn’t know how to do anything else. And it had been a lackluster replacement, nothing like he’d felt for the almost seven years he and Robb and Theon were together.
“What about you, Jon?” Robb asks, and as casual as his brother may be trying to appear, Jon knows him better than that. He can hear the apprehension in his voice. And the hope.
Jon exhales, trying to sort out his words in his head before he says something he regrets. “I… do miss it,” he says. “And sometimes I think about it. Gettin’ back together. But I always…” He hesitates. “Would it even be the same? Can we have that again, truly? Or was it just some miracle we stumbled upon we can’t get back?”
“I wonder that too,” Theon admits. “If we got back together— would anyone even care? Would anyone want to listen to our music in the first place?”
“I know what you mean,” Robb says, and his blue eyes flash with determination, desperation. Like he’s clinging onto this with all his might. “But I miss making music with you two. And I think if we truly did this, we couldn’t worry about the fans, or the people. We’d have to do it just for us.”
Just for us, Jon thinks, trying not to roll his eyes. That’s a novel thought in Hollywood. All he seemed to do when they were a band was give and give and give himself away. Nothing here was ever just for him.
Well… there was her. But now that’s gone as well.
“I would do it,” Theon says, with a conviction that surprises Jon. “It would be hard, and who bloody knows what would even come of it, but I would. If this is you asking, Robb, then I say yes.”
Robb blinks, a little taken aback, but then Theon’s words really seem to hit him, and he smiles. A laugh falls from his lips, eyes shining in a way that Jon rarely sees anymore.
“What about you, Jon?” Theon asks, and that’s when Robb’s eyes dim.
Jon sighs. “I dunno,” he says. “That’s… a big decision. I’d like to just say yes, but…”
“I know,” Robb says. “And I don’t want you to say yes unless you really mean it, Jon. If you just… do this for us, nothing will end well.”
His eyes drop down to the coffee table, heart heavy. Yes, he knows that’s true. Because isn’t that how it all blew up the first time? Jon couldn’t do it anymore, and instead of telling anyone, he soldiered on for Robb and Theon. For his brothers. And it all ended in fucking disaster.
“I’ll think about it,” he promises, and the sincerity in his voice takes him by surprise as much as it does Robb and Theon. “Truly, I will.”
Maybe it’s not a bad idea. He loved making music with Robb and Theon. It was his entire life for so long— some crazy dream they somehow made come true. The most surreal, incredible thing in the world, right there before them. And he does miss it. He misses having a purpose, an outlet, an… anything. He misses the time when his life wasn’t an endless void, a monotonous parade of going through the motions day-to-day, trying to learn to move on from something he never really thinks he’ll be over.
Robb’s smile is warm when it meets his, and Theon claps him on the shoulder, looking uncharacteristically hopeful. And for a moment, Jon’s heart feels light, not like it’s made of iron, still heavy in his chest after nearly seven years.
But then Robb’s expression shifts, and his stomach sinks once again.
“There’s somethin’ else,” his brother admits. “Sansa just told me. And I figured you’d rather hear it from us, than see it plastered across all the tabloids in King’s Landing.”
“What is it?” Jon asks, dread filling his stomach. He just knows, somehow, that this is it. This fragile peace he’s tried to build these past years is about to shatter, the rug pulled out from under him.
Robb exhales, like he has to physically force the words out, and Jon prepares himself for the fallout.
“Dany’s back in town.”
And with that, the world stops spinning.
#jonas brothers au#my writing#jonerys#jonerys modern au#jonerys fanfiction#baby i’ll come back to you#im so excited for this one guys#AND THE ART!!!#I CANT!!!!#martha did such a good job#really im posting this because I was too impatient to wait#to share her gorgeous gorgeous artwork with yall#HOPE YOU ENJOYED#coming soon to an ao3 near you
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Another Gorgeous Fan Art I came across whilst lurking on Freefolk….
This is Beautiful 😍😍😍
Edit: By Asha47110 Devianart
#jonerys fanart#reddit freefolk#gorgeous fan art#pic not mine#jonerys#jon x dany#my babies#just sharing
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paris is always a good idea | a Jonerys Drabble
Thank you @youwerenevermine for my wonderful birthday gift, I love it so much and I love Paris so much and Jonerys and you for making this for me so I felt inspired and wrote a quick little drabble thing, lol. It’s only the fourth time I’ve written Jonerys in a modern, non-Westeros world, but it was fun! And I wanna’ go back so much! Paris, je t’aime!
They met while in university, oddly enough, as fate would have it, on her birthday.
She had been there to study art, for a year abroad, savoring every last second wandering the wide, arched hallways of the Louvre, staring at grand masters for hours on end, burning the vibrant colors and mesmerizing brushstrokes into her memory, wishing she could be as good as them one day. One day, someone would have her art in their house, and proudly boast they'd gotten it back when she was but a nobody, painting on the streets or in the grassy parks.
Since it was her birthday, she decided to treat herself, and instead of heading straight to the university to get some time in the studio, she decided to get an ice cream at Berthillon, heading to the Ile-St-Louis instead of to the metro, taking her time to admire, as she often did, the glory of Notre Dame, it’s gargoyles and buttresses.
At the glacier she took her time selecting a flavor, did not even mind paying the exorbitant price and shouldered through tourists taking refuge from a cold rain that had begun to fall. She savored it, the clean water bouncing off her peat coat and the beanie she’d tugged over her silver hair.
She was about to set off, to eat her ice cream and wander into the Marais, perhaps drop down into the Latin Quarter— maybe take a trip to Chanel or Dior or Celine to admire the creations she couldn’t afford— when her ice cream went flying, straight onto the wet sidewalk. Where a mass of pidgins attacked it with gusto.
“Merde! Faites attention!” she shouted, stomping her Doc Marten on the ground in petulant annoyance.
The man who had bumped her because he’d been roughhousing with another friend had been apologetic. He bought her another and said his name was Robb Stark. He was from Scotland, was on spring break with his buddies, which she didn’t care about. To apologize he invited her for a drink, especially when the worker who she’d told it was her birthday had commented on it again when she got another ice cream.
She figured why not? He was attractive, sorry, and nice enough so she agreed, although she had commented his French was terrible best to speak English. “You’re English?” he had teased.
“Half and half,” she answered. English father, French mother.
At the comptoir where she suggested they meet, in Montmartre, she brought her roommate Missandei and Missandei’s boyfriend Grey. It was just a drink and they’d leave and go to the dinner Missandei planned to take her to anyway.
Except that’s where she met him.
The dark, brooding figure at the tiny table in the corner, ignoring Robb and Robb’s friend Theon, and a couple others, favoring silence and his drink. He was in all black, barely acknowledging her and slipped out for a smoke when Robb began to shamelessly flirt. She didn’t care about Robb, she cared about him.
Jon.
She exited, saw him lighting a cigarette against a lap post. She flicked her coat collar up and sidled towards him. “Puis-j’en avoir un?”
“Sorry I don’t speak,” he began, and his eyes— black in the orange lamplight glow— flicking to her. He smiled gently “French.”
She smiled and repeated her question in English. “Can I have one? A smoke that is?”
He stuck the cigarette between his pouty, sinful lips, framed with a cropped dark beard, and reached into his coat pocket, removing a pack. She took one delicately and he lit it, cupping his hands around the tip so the wind didn’t blow it out.
A stream of smoke escaped her nostrils when she puffed and she smiled up at him, hoping he got the hint. “Do you like Paris?”
“Not especially.”
“Aw come on,” she teased. She hummed, closing her eyes and taking in the cold night. The electric buzz is people on the street and at the cafes and bars around them. “Paris is always a good idea.”
“Someone famous said that.”
“Audrey Hepburn.”
He sucked on the cigarette and smiled, a tiny one, the curve of his lip sly rather than shy. “You aren’t in there with the rest of them.”
“Because it’s my birthday and I want to do what I want to do.” She stubbed the cigarette out on the post and turned, disposing it in the bin by the door. A quick text to Missandei: I’m going to skip dinner, I think I have a date, she turned and studied him. “I’m…”
“Dany,” he said. He shrugged, finishing his smoke. “I remember.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t think you were listening when Robb introduced me.”
“I was.” He pulled the tartan scarf around his neck tighter. He glanced towards Sacré-Cœur, illuminated white in the lights around its base. He smirked at her. “You going back in?”
She shook her head. “No,” she drawled. She followed his gaze to Sacré-Cœur. “Have you been up there?”
“No.”
“You should. Some of the best views of Paris.”
He chuckled, voice tight. “You should invite Robb.”
“I think he might be a third wheel.”
It took him a second, the gears in his mind turning, understanding what she was saying. He cocked his head. His black curls were in a mess around his face. A few scattered rain drops landed on them, and he shook it free like a dog. Or a wolf, she thought, noting the animal embroidered on the edge of his scarf.
He narrowed his eyes again. “I told you I don’t really like Paris.”
“Why?”
“It’s loud. Busy. Dirty.”
She laughed. “Every city is like that but in Paris it’s different.”
“Why?”
Her bravado got the better of her and she stepped towards him, linking her arm through his. If he didn’t get it now, he was a stupid fool who deserved it when she kicked him into the gutter. “Because,” she murmured, rising to her toes, trying to gaze as directly as she could into his eyes, which she now saw were actually gray. His breathing quickened. “You’re with me.”
The wolf got the point with that comment. He allowed her to keep her arm around his and lead him towards the cathedral. They spoke of nothing and anything on the long walk through Montmartre to the highest point in the city.
He was in Paris for a research trip. He was studying medieval weapons and was going out to Bayeux to study some relics. His cousin Robb and friends came along for the free trip. They spoke about being starving artists in their field-- her literally an artist as it were. They talked about Paris-- how much he disliked it, how much she adored it. The top of Sacre-Coeur might have changed his mind, but he pretended he still didn’t get the appeal, so she dragged him back down to the streets, to her favorite all-night boulangerie, into the metro and across town to the Eiffel Tower, spinning in circles on the Champs du Mars. They ran across the Pont-de-la-Concorde and across the Tullieries. They wandered down the Seine, smoked cigarettes in the doorsteps of old buildings in the Latin Quarter, and drank cheap wine in one of the tourist-cafes near the Jardin du Luxembourg.
They meandered back through the streets, the city oddly quiet, the rain stopping, and she brought him to her garret studio in the Bastille, up the six flights of stairs to the top of the building, where she shed her coat and boots adn scratched her fat cat Drogon’s ears, leading him to the wrought-iron bars in one of the four windows she had, pushing the window open and crawling out, up onto the roof where she wanted to show him something.
“Look,” she directed, when he climbed up next to her-- less gracefully-- pointing to the lit-up Eiffel Tower.
He cursed under his breath. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s my favorite place in Paris. The rent is steep, but it’s worth it for this.” She chuckled. “And it has the best view.”
He whispered. “Yes, it does.”
And to her surprise, since she didn’t realize the time, the tower began to twinkle, the 20,000 lights across its metal beams flickering and she glanced sideways; he wasn’t watching the tower, but her face. She arched her brows. “You know, the lights twinkle for five minutes every hour, on the hour.” She smiled and shrugged, whispering. “It’s a sign that you’re supposed to return to Paris.”
Instead of saying anything, like how silly that was, he leaned in and cupped her face in his wide palm, callused and warm, bringing her face to meet his, kissing gently, in the twinkly glow of the lights. He pulled back a moment later, breathing, “I think I like Paris. And you’er right...this place has the best view.” His eyes were wide on hers, focused. She chuckled, nodding in agreement, and pulled him back to her for another kiss.
That night she savored every moment with him, as they pulled each other’s clothes off slowly, kissing and touching, every smooth curve and muscle of each other, each hard ridge and plane of his strong, muscular body or her soft, lean one. He touched her and kissed her and stroked her in ways she’d never experienced, bringing her to heights she’d only dreamed about. It was intense, the lights behind her closed eyelids when she came, over and over, gripping his shoulders, hair, the bedframe behind her. He rose up and over her, in and out, their bodies moving as one, thrusting and arching.
She didn’t know if she’d see him again; if this was a one-time, romantic Parisian adventure, but in the morning when she woke, she found him coming back inside from getting pastries and coffees, the faintest scent of cigarettes and her toothpaste on his lips when he kissed her good morning.
They exchanged their information, vowing to speak daily, and he would see her when he got back from Bayeux. She couldn’t believe when he did call and he kept his word. “When you lie, words lose their meaning,” he’d explained, obviously reading her surprise.
And when her year ended in Paris, she found herself in London, back at university, dreaming of their magical time there, even when they made time for each other, going back and forth from London to Edinburgh; and he from Edinburgh to Paris during the last couple of months of her year there.
They made it a priority; every single year they spent time in Paris, like they were students again, on that magical night.
They grew older, no longer needing to find the cheapest drinks and cigarettes, or staying in studio garrets, eventually able to experience some of the best hotels and restaurants the city had to offer, as he sold books and became a well-known author and professor, and her dream of becoming a famous artist came true, when sure enough, someone bought one of her paintings on the side of the Seine, someone who happened to be an art dealer in New York.
It was their city, where they met, and where they could remember.
After they married, about fifteen years after that fateful birthday, they visited again, and spun together on the Pont-Neuf, kissing and murmuring how they loved each other and always would, and he took her back to the tiny studio garret, which was now theirs, and sat on the rooftop and watched the Eiffel Tower sparkle.
“Paris is always a good idea,” she murmured, head in the crook of his neck, her back to his front, wrapped in a warm blanket, and his arms tight around her middle. She tilted her face up to his, sated, and still hopelessly in love with him. “Take me to Paris, Jon.”
He nuzzled his nose into her cheek, whispering. “You are Paris, Dany.”
As it was the city where they’d met, fallen in love, and found true happiness, she grinned, because that was his way of saying how much he loved her. She brushed her lips over his, sighing, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And they kissed, as the Eiffel Tower lit up, and she curled up into him, falling asleep in the city of love and lights.
#jonerys#jonerys au#jonerys drabble#Erika's gorgeous moodboards!#my random drabbles#Paris is always a good idea#Paris and jonerys is a better idea#happy birthday to me lol
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I’ve spent the last month working on a multi-chapter Jonerys fic. 7 chapters out of 9 are done - I can’t wait to finish and start posting! Especially as every chapter will have gorgeous art by @dragonanddirewolf 🤭
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💘💋 Happy Valentine’s Day! 💋💘
Here’s wishing the Jonerys community all the love this Valentine’s. Take this special day to enjoy some Jonerys gorgeous art and steamy fics!
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Jonerys Remix 2020
First, let me say thank you to @dragonanddirewolf. It’s absolutely gorgeous and I was so in awe of her talent when I saw it. Also, I know I said I would wait until Friday, but I couldn’t wait!
Here it is, the big announcement. I’m sure some of you could guess what it was if you saw any chats with me or whatever, but here it is. Jonerys Remix 2020.
Here’s a little FAQ:
What is a remix?
Well, lovely people, a remix is when you take a couple, let’s say The Little Mermaid, Ariel and Eric, but you insert Jon and Daenerys into either their story, their setting, their circumstance..something about that couples that people could identify as the original. So, let’s say you made Dany a mermaid and Jon a prince. Or, how about a modern AU where Dany has lost her voice and meets the pretty Jon Snow on a beach? Or what if Jon is a merman (it is merman?) and Dany is a pirate princess that is hunting his elusive, mythical figure. All those would constitute as a remix.
Rules?
Yep, just a few.
1. Fics must be finished before posting. (see more below)
2. You will be given a specific AO3 tag to use so that I can ensure they remain anon from everyone until posting starts. (see below for more detail)
3. Only two fics and two arts per couple. What that means is, if someone else has signed up for the same couple you want, you will see on the list a 1 beside it. If you see it greyed out, that couple is no longer up for fic and if it’s yellowed out, not up for art, and if it is red, it’s gone completely. This is done on a first-come, first-serve basis.
4. If you feel like you won’t finish your fic in time, please shoot me a PM or an email to let me know.
Is there a word limit and a word max?
Far be it from me to tell someone they can only write within a certain word count. There is a word minimum and that’s 2500. It has to be over a drabble.
Does the fic have to be complete upon posting?
Yes. Here’s the caveat: all fics must be complete upon posting to AO3. But here’s the good news, you get three months. So, your fics/art will officially be due on 10 April 2020. If you think you’re going to be late, please let me know ASAP.
I’m interested. What couples can I use?
OH! My friends, HERE is an EXTENSIVE list, with multiple tabs, divided by medium.
Alright, I’ve found my couple, how does this work?
Well, you’ve found your couple! KUDOS! So, you’ll go to the SIGN-UP FORM and fill that out. You’ll notice there are three slots for you to put in your couple. Pick your top three would LOVE TO WRITE and put their names in according to how much you want to write them. As I said above in the rules, two fics and two art per couple. You will get an email letting you know that your request was received and I will email you as to which couple on your list you got. I won’t assign you a couple based on what I want to read from you. It will be done, truly, on a first come first serve basis.
I have my couple, I’ve signed up, I got my verification email from you, when do I start writing?
Start as soon as you get the confirmation email from me. I’d like to say that every fic needs to be betaed by someone, but I think our fandom does a pretty damn good job of that in the first place as there is some tier-one level work going around.
Where will we post?
You will post on AO3. If you don’t have an AO3 account, I can help you get one. When you submit your fic to AO3, under the “Post to collections/challenges” you will enter the phrase “Jonerys Remix”. It will post under the collection and be hidden until the date in which your fic will be revealed! You are able to edit your fic any time you like, but you can’t share it until it’s posted
How will the reveal happen?
Ideally, I’d like to have a piece of art and a fic to post each day. However, if we don’t have that, one multi-chaptered fic a day or two one-shots. The idea isn’t to load you down with too much to see and read. The idea is to spread it out over time so that every author and artist get the recognition they deserve.
What constitutes art?
Drawings, mood boards, gifsets, manips, sketches, paintings, clay, fan vids but all of that would have to be made by you.
What are the dates?
10 Jan 2020 - Remix is open and sign-ups
30 Jan 2020 - Signups are closed
10 Jan - 10 Apr - WRITE
10 April 2020 - Fics are due
13 April 2020 - Fics will be revealed
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The Jonerys/Vikings art for Monday was absolutely gorgeous. I couldn’t stop looking at it!!! Thank you for all you do!
Thank you so much!! It’s one of my favourites from the month but... I keep saying it about a lot of the inktober art so... 🙈
Thank you for the kind words and for all the love ❤️ This really makes all the effort worth it
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The amazingly talented @boku-no-tokyo-ghoul made these gorgeous aesthetics for my Pirate Queen Daenerys. I have no words for how amazing these are. They capture my Daenerys’ essence exactly. This is the best gift ever. I tried to find a quote to add from the fic itself, but I couldn’t find one that could do these works of art justice. So I added an entire scene from the fic instead. Heads up, it’s a Jonerys fic.
A Storm In The North
Jon finds the Pirate Queen standing over the Painted Table, a ringed hand trailing along the Eastern shore. She’s put on another colorful skirt but still wears no coat, her upper body draped in nothing but golden jewelry. When Jon manages to tear his eyes away from the parts of her he really shouldn’t be looking at, he finds that Daenerys Targaryen lacks the exuberance she exhibited yesterday. Instead she's pensive, solemn even. Her eyes follow the path her hand trails along the coast.
Her hand halts on King’s Landing.
“How many people live in King’s Landing?”
Jon stills at the unexpected question. While he’d made no move to keep his approach hidden, he’d assumed the Pirate Queen to be too lost in thought to have noticed his arrival. She’d given no reaction to his presence after all.
Perhaps she believes him to be someone else?
“I’ve heard the city is home to over half a million souls,” he replies. Judging from Daenerys Targaryen’s continuing lack of reaction, he was wrong in assuming she thought him to be someone else.
“Shouldn’t a King know how many people are under his rule?” she asks with vague amusement, but her eyes remain locked onto King’s Landing.
“I know how many people the North holds.”
Not enough to defeat the dead.
The Pirate Queen acknowledges his words with a hum, her attention never straying from the Painted Table. Tyrion said she wasn’t interested in the Iron Throne, but seeing her focus on King’s Landing like this...
“Are you planning to claim the Iron Throne?” Try to claim, at least.
Daenerys Targaryen lifts her gaze, storm grey eyes meeting his own. Her expression is closed off in a way that makes him shift his footing to a more battle ready stance, prepared for the situation to turn hostile. It’s instinct more than anything else that makes him react like this. He doesn’t truly believe she’ll attack him.
He'd be a fool not to prepare for the possibility of it happening.
Daenerys Targaryen shifts her own footing in kind, taking on a battle ready stance as well. It’s clear her reaction is an unconscious one, though. She returns her gaze to King’s Landing.
“...No. Reclaiming the Seven Kingdoms was my brother’s dream.”
She holds a different one. The question is, what is her dream?
Or rather, does her dream pose a threat to the North?
Daenerys Targaryen lifts her hand from King’s Landing and strides towards him. Halting next to him, she leans against the table, close enough to force Jon to tilt his head down to meet her eyes. Despite his best efforts, he fails to keep his eyes from straying down further.
How is she not cold walking around like this?
When he manages to drag his gaze away from her bare skin and meet her eyes again, he finds the Pirate Queen’s lips quirked up in a faint smile, amusement brightening the storm of her eyes. She’s aware of the effect her state of undress has on people. She simply doesn’t care. Neither does she use her appearance as a weapon. There's nothing purposely seductive about her stance. The opposite, now that Jon has managed to shake off most of the distraction posed by her bare skin, he realizes she’s positioned herself so she can kick out his knee. Jon shifts his weight so he’ll be able to block without losing his balance.
The Pirate Queen’s smile grows.
“Tell me about yourself, Jon Snow, King in the North,” she orders while hopping onto the table. The change in position means she’ll be able to kick his chest with both her feet. While his armor would catch the worst of the blow, she'd still send him crashing to the floor if she used both her feet.
“Not much to tell,” he says while taking a step back. Getting out of her reach. Her kick would still land, but she won’t have the leverage needed to throw him to the floor. He could take another step back and leave her range completely, but this way he can grab her legs and drag her off the table. That would end the fight before it can turn lethal.
“I highly doubt that,” she returns while lifting a leg and placing her foot on the edge of the table. Ready to lunge at him instead of kicking him.
Her raised leg puts her in a truly indecent position. The only thing protecting her modesty is the silk pooling between her thighs.
“I’m not here to fight you,” he says while changing his footing so he can throw her over his shoulder should she lunge for him.
Daenerys Targaryen raises a brow as amused as it is pointed, the glance she gives his feet an unnecessary addition to her silent message. She also shifts her center of gravity so she’ll be able to grab his cloak in her lunge. Preventing him from throwing her over his shoulder without her using the fabric against him.
With great reluctance, Jon forces himself to assume his previous position instead of rolling his shoulders to get his cloak out of the way. It leaves him uncomfortably open to attack, but someone has to make the first move to end the near battle they’ve somehow ended up in. He meant it when he said he isn’t here to fight her.
Doesn’t mean he won’t defend himself.
Daenerys Targaryen gains a grin that's both amused and contains a little too many teeth, before she lets her leg fall open. Lowering her guard and showing she holds no intention to attack him either. For now, at least.
Her new position is even more indecent than her previous one. She sits as a boy in breeches would, except she's a woman whose only articles of clothing consists of a skirt more suited as an undergarment.
She's a woman with remarkably firm thighs. The left of which holds a scar that disappears beneath the scrap of fabric covering her. Jon wonders just how far it goes.
“Why are you here, Jon Snow?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he counters, shaking off his momentary distraction. Even now that she’s no longer wired to attack, he remains on guard. The Pirate Queen has a reputation for mayhem and murder after all. “You and your people are the ones who appeared out of nowhere.”
“I suppose I should have been more specific,” Daenerys Targaryen says with a too sharp smile. “Why have you come to see me, Jon Snow?”
Jon swallows down an instinctive denial. Not only is the urge to lie ridiculous but it would serve no purpose. There’s no reason for anyone to come to Dragonstone but to speak with her.
“I wish to ask something.” The problem is he’s still unsure whether doing so would be a wise choice. Even more unsure than before in fact. Their interaction until now hasn’t exactly inspired confidence in her sanity.
It has, however, revealed that Daenerys Targaryen is dangerous even without her Dragons. Or without her people for that matter.
“What is it you wish to ask?” Daenerys Targaryen returns, tilting her head and watching him with curiosity. The sight is oddly reminiscent of how her Dragons watched him.
Jon hesitates. He wants, needs really, her aid in the fight against the dead. But only if she isn't her father’s daughter.
If she's her father’s daughter, asking for her aid might destroy the North before the dead ever arrive.
“Why have you come to Westeros?” he settles on. It’s not what he came to ask, true, but the little time he’s spend within her presence has revealed that the question is vital if he is to even consider asking for aid.
Daenerys Targaryen gives him a look that shows she is well aware this wasn’t his original question, but she answers nonetheless. Or rather, she gives a reply.
“To find an answer.”
Frustration rises at the words that clarify nothing.
“An answer to what?” he demands, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice. He doesn’t have time for games.
“Answer my question and perhaps I'll answer yours,” Daenerys Targaryen counters with another too sharp smile, but even with the hint of danger, it's clear that she's enjoying herself.
It annoys Jon even further. This is no laughing matter. Jon doesn't say so, though. Instead he lets out a slow breath and reigns in his temper. It takes him a moment to figure out what question she wants him to answer, but when he realizes which one she's referring to, his annoyance grows.
Jon doesn’t enjoy talking about himself.
“I’m the bastard son of Ned Stark of Winterfell. I was a Brother of the Nightwatch, then I was made King in the North.”
There, that summarizes everything relevant about himself. Daenerys Targaryen can ask for no more.
He’ll not tell her more.
His answer seems to amuse the Pirate Queen greatly, her smile losing the edge of danger and her storm grey eyes dancing with mirth.
She’s beautiful.
He really needs to gain control over his attraction to this woman.
Daenerys Targaryen’s mirth fades. She turns her head to look at King’s Landing and shows a mixture of too many emotions to parse. Jon can name but one with certainty.
Daenerys Targaryen is afraid.
“I came here to find out whether or not I can avoid becoming a monster.”
The words catch him off guard completely. Whatever he was expecting her to be here for, it wasn’t this.
“...Why do you fear you're becoming one?” he asks, deciding that's is the most important thing to know. He's careful to keep his wariness hidden but it's definitely there. Her fearing she's becoming a monster doesn’t indicate a stable state of mind.
It indicates at least part of her is still sane. The monsters Jon has known never wondered whether or not they were evil, never mind feared it. Either they knew and didn’t care, or they were convinced they were in the right. Daenerys Targaryen seems neither.
She seems to not just understand but to care about the difference between good and evil. Most important of all, she seems to desire to be good. Jon feels some of his tension leave at this positive indicator of her being sane enough to ask for aid.
“I murdered thousands of people.”
This, on the other hand, makes it impossible to forget he’s speaking to the Mad King’s Daughter.
“I burned down their homes and made the streets run red. I didn’t care about the innocents, didn’t care my actions lead to their deaths. All I cared about was vengeance.”
When the Pirate Queen meets his gaze again, her fear is even greater than before.
“What if it happens again?”
Jon waits for her to say more, but she doesn’t. She truly expects him to answer that? Even ignoring that he's a stranger to her, he has no idea what she is talking about. The destruction of Slaver’s Bay, he assumes, but even if he's right, he doesn’t have enough information about what happened to form a definitive judgement.
“What caused it to happen in the first place?” he decides to return, figuring that to be the best place to start.
Daenerys Targaryen’s fear disappears. What takes its place causes him to reach for Longclaw on instinct, his body readying itself for battle.
The look the Mad King's Daughter gives him is harsh and brutal, not a trace of mercy to be found.
Her eyes burn with a rage that would consume the world.
“The Masters wished for war. I gave them one.”
Jon is starting to understand why Tyrion warned him against angering the Mother of Dragons. Were it not for her Dragons, he'd abandon the idea of asking for her aid altogether. As it is, he’s not willing to give up just yet.
He’s not willing to ask for her aid yet either.
“Do you think me a monster, Jon Snow?” Daenerys Targaryen asks in a measured voice, but the fire raging in her eyes turns the question into a threat.
“I think,” he says slowly, choosing his answer with care, “that fearing you're becoming a monster is a right step to not becoming one.”
He truly does believe that. He also believes that merely fearing yourself to be turning into a monster isn't enough to keep yourself from becoming one. But it’s a good start.
Of course, fearing you're becoming a monster also means you’ve done enough terrible things to start thinking yourself a monster in the first place.
Daenerys Targaryen softens, the fire leaving her eyes and the threat of violence fading away. She looks back at King’s Landing.
“I hope so. But even if it is, it isn't enough.”
No, it’s not. The fact she recognizes that is another indicator of her not being mad as her father was.
Not yet at least.
Daenerys Targaryen hops off the table and strides towards the open balcony. Jon stares at her back, thoughts momentarily scattered by shock. Daenerys Targaryen’s hair covers much of her back but not all.
It doesn’t cover the patchwork of scars that could’ve come from only one thing.
Daenerys Targaryen has been whipped. Brutally so.
“Come find me when you’re ready to ask whatever it is you wish to ask of me, Jon Snow,” she says without halting her confident movements, the sound of her voice allowing him to regain his wits. He meets her gaze when she looks over her shoulder, her lips curved in a faint smile. “Or when you’re ready to tell me more about yourself.”
Daenerys Targaryen returns her gaze forward and reaches the edge of the open balcony.
She jumps off the cliff without a single hesitation, the procession of movement so natural Jon only realizes what she's doing after her feet have already left the ground. He’s already running after her when he hears the sound of something impossibly large moving through the air, but he doesn’t slow down until he’s reached the balcony and can see for himself that the Pirate Queen landed on one of her Dragons instead of falling to her death below.
Jon wills his racing heart to slow down as he watches the Black Dragon fly out to sea, Daenerys Targaryen’s bright hair easily visible against its dark scales.
Daenerys Targaryen is mad.
Jon lets out a harsh breath and brings up a hand to rub the back of his neck, as conflicted as he is exasperated. He came here to determine for himself whether or not the Pirate Queen could be asked for aid. He’s failed spectacularly at that. She’s mad, that much is more than clear, but whether her madness prevents her from being a potential ally? That Jon has no answer for. Her madness is different from that of her father, but he doesn't yet know if it's worth putting up with for the chance of gaining the aid of her Dragons.
He needs to speak with Tyrion.
Turning around, Jon leaves the chamber with the intention to do just that. He truly hopes Tyrion will be able to clarify once and for all whether or not he should abandon the idea of asking the Pirate Queen for aid.
One thing is for certain. Daenerys Targaryen certainly lives up to her reputation as the Mad King’s Daughter.
If you’re interested in the rest of the fic, you can find it on Archiveofourown. The title is A Storm In The North, and my username is Loeka
#got#daenerys targaryen#jonerys#jon snow#aesthetic#fanfic#this was the best gift ever#look at how amazing these aesthetics are!#look at the images!#look at THE QUOTES#all of them are so amazing#and they combine in the most beautiful of ways#giving a layered and nuanced image of daenerys#her strengths and her flaws#her love for her children#the freedom she refuses to give up no matter what#the ruthlessness that turns her into the most deadly of enemies#you do not want to piss off a dragon#and daenerys is a dragon through and through#i just love these so much#ghoul you're an amazing artist#and i can't thank you enough#this is the best gift ever
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Transcendent
Chapter 2: Found You
Chapter Summary:
Frantically running through the crowd in pursuit of his dream lover, Jon ponders whether this was all too outlandish? Would he even find her? If he did, how would he convince her that they were meant to be with each other?
Ao3 link here: Prologue. Chap 1. Chap 2.
Hope you guys like this update~
Gonna thank you every time i post an update hehe @midqueenally Thank you for the moodboard and the constant support in everything Jonerys I do. :)
Skirting around a stall selling an assortment of roasted nuts with a string of ‘excuse me’s and ‘coming through’s upon his tongue, Jon darted through the crowd, oblivious of the disgruntled sounds of exclamations and curious looks from the nameless people roaming the market. His eyes frantically scanned the throngs of flâneurs and tourists, searching for that one person whose visage had only thus far lived in his mind. Even the delicious smells of various food items swirling around him did nothing to draw his attention away from his search.
Where was she? How could she even exist in this time? She couldn’t, could she? If she did, was she immortal? Why the heck was he even trusting the words of a psychic who was very likely to be a complete whack job? How was he to even find her when all he had was the occasional glimpse of her face in his sleep? What if she didn’t even have that face anymore?! So many questions ricocheted about in his skull as he wove and ducked through the crowd. He had to try. If there was even a slim chance that the queen who ruled his dreams day and night could be living in this reality, he’d be an idiot to not seize it.
Passing through a gush of steam from a nearby coffee machine, a flash of silver gold amongst the cattle like herd of humans ahead of him had his heart lurching to a momentary stop. A woman with a head full of strands that shifted between a warm gold and silver that gleamed like the stars under the light of day.
Could it really be her?
He had to know for certain. Hugging his groceries closer to his chest with renewed determination and a glimmer of hope flickering like a minute flame within his chest, Jon pushed his way through the hungry shoppers waiting in line by the falafel truck and onto the path of that mysterious woman.
Eyes never leaving her, he observed as she lingered by the fruit stand. He couldn’t hear what she was saying yet but he could see her gesturing at the pile of shiny red apples up for purchase. He had to get closer.
As the distance shrunk between them, he could see her profile and boy was she a vision to behold. The woman looked so much like the queen in his dreams. Her hair, her skin, her eyebrows, her nose, her plump lips and especially her smile that seemed to light up her whole face. There was no way someone could be the exact carbon copy of another person from a dream his brain cooked up.
Seeing this woman smile and laugh as she chatted away with the rotund shopkeeper roused a foreign but so very splendid sort of emotion from the very depths of his being. Something clicked, like a switch being flicked on to illuminate a hidden room within his heart, an empty space made just for that woman right in front of him to belong. A joyous breath of laughter found its way out of his mouth.
He had found her.
Now, how was he to convince her that they could very possibly have a connection that tied them together. Sucking in a breath to calm his nerves, he decided to take the leap and hope for the best that she wouldn’t run for the hills when he approached her.
“Excuse me miss, could I speak with you for a moment?”
Hearing a Northern accented voice from behind her, Dany turned around to see a man. His deep brown eyes were peering intently at her. The man had a messy head of curls that matched his dark eyes. A lock of his curls fell gently to rest over his left eye. To top off his already handsome features, a scruffy well-trimmed beard framed the bottom half of his face. She had to admit, he was really, really good looking, in a masculine, rugged heartthrob sort of way. Her heart skipped a beat followed by a pang of familiarity and fondness washing over her as she took in his visage. An image of a man reaching out his hand to caress a dragon’s snout floated through her mind. Had she seen him somewhere before?
“This is going to sound very forward and stalker like. But, um... Do you know me?” His eyes scanned her face for any hint of recognition from her, only to be met with a blank stare. The man squirmed on the spot, further explaining: “You see, I’m an artist and I’ve painted many, many pieces of art. A number of them feature a woman who looks like you. I’ve been trailing you for a while now. You really look just like her!”
Her large violet eyes scrunched up into a squint, trying to place that sense of familiarity, to recall if they’ve met in the past. Nothing came up. “You must have me mistaken with someone else. I have never seen you in my life before today.”
“Oh, we haven’t met in real life. I meant, I’ve seen you in my dreams.” The man stated. “Have you by any chance seen me in yours?”
That crazy fortune teller better be right about this. Jon prayed.
“What?” Dreams? “Is that supposed to be a pick-up line? If it is, it’s horribly cheesy.”
Dreams.
“No! No, no. I’m not hitting on you. Not that I wouldn’t, you’re gorgeous.” Realizing his slip up, the man’s mouth snapped shut as his ears turned red.
This woman was even more mesmerizing up close. Tracking her for a good while to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, he could tell she was just as beautiful as the woman he saw in his dreams. Other than her brunette locks, they were the splitting image of each other. And the way his heart sped up when he laid eyes on this petite lady, weaving her way between the market stalls, browsing the wares was exactly how his dream self felt, stepping into her throne room. He had found her. The woman of his dreams.
“Why thank you.” Dany smirked. This stranger was surprisingly cute.
She won’t believe you until you show her.
“Anyway, I know it’s hard to believe but....” he sighed feeling frustrated. How do you convince a stranger that you saw them in your dreams without sounding like a lunatic? “Look, I’ll prove it to you. Come with me, please?”
Dany didn’t know why she agreed to go with an unfamiliar man with a simple ‘Okay’ slipping out of her mouth. An intuitive impulse to follow a perfect stranger was completely insane but the sincerity in his eyes and that innate sense of familiarity compelled her to do so. That inexplainable tugging on her heart was an added push.
“Thank you for this. I’m Jon, by the way. Jon Stark. I’m very sorry for the abruptness, for ruining your plans if you had any. Not to mention, I’m a total stranger. I must come off as very random, if not creepy. You must understand, I really need to show you this.” The painter rambled on.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Dany Thorne and you didn’t ruin anything. I didn’t have much planned for this holiday anyway. Also, something tells me, you’re not a creep. You wouldn’t do something like this if it weren’t of great importance, would you?” She reassured him with a kind smile, matching his stride along the cobble stone streets, as he guided her through the streets back to his loft, groceries in tow. This man, this stranger, for some reason made her feel so safe with him, like a space that she hadn’t noticed before in her chest had been filled.
Turning up laneway, Dany followed the painter up a gently inclining slope before coming to a stop in front of an open doorway.
“My apartment is just upstairs.” Climbing up a flight of rickety stairs, each step creaked under their weight. “I do apologize again for the abruptness of my behaviour.”
“It’s all right, Jon. Really. Don’t apologize. Oh! Do you mind if I called you Jon?”
Glancing down at her from under that lock of raven hair over his left eye, Jon murmured: “No. I’d like that actually.”
Dany caught a slight hint of a smile on his lips which had her smiling back. She could have sworn she’d seen that smile before. But where? “I have to say I am curious myself. I’ve never met you before today and the same goes for you. So, how would you possibly have painted portraits of me?”
“I don’t know... Your face just comes to me out of the blue.” Jon reflected aloud. That really was how it happened after all.
Down the hallway to the right they went, passing one, two, three apartments before halting outside a white wooden door. “I hope you don’t mind the mess. I wasn’t expecting guests today.”
“I’m an unexpected guest then huh? Can’t remember the last time I’ve been one. People usually want me around.” Dany couldn’t resist a tease at him as she watched the raven haired man fish out the right key from a bunch of three and insert it into the key hole.
“Yes. You are a very unexpected one.” Jon nodded as he turned the key. The door unlocked with a click. “I am however, finding you to be very pleasant company and I most definitely want you around.” He added with quiet chuckle.
Dany bit her lip with a light roll of her eyes, cheeks stained a slight pink. She was not expecting him to be flirty.
Before he could turn the handle, the door to an apartment opposite his creaked open and out popped the golden unkempt head of a man. The man was shorter than herself, Dany observed in surprise. His height appeared to reach the middle of her torso. A pair of dark shades were perched on the bridge of his nose and in his hand, he clutched a clear glass beaker that held a rich purplish maroon liquid.
“Ah! Jon! I thought I heard your dreamy voice! I’m hosting a party in about half an hour in celebration of my wine. After months of experimenting, I’ve finally managed to brew some that taste less like rancid grape juice and more like the delicious ambrosia of the gods. Everyone in the building is coming and you....” Waving the bottle before him like a conductor with his baton, the man exclaimed with a distinct slur to his voice. “Oh!” Pushing his glasses down his nose, the man paused mid speech to look at her almost like he suddenly noticed her presence. His blue eyes were unfocused and blurry as he swayed like a leaf in the wind before leaning heavily against his door frame. “And who is this gorgeous creature?”
“Good afternoon, Tyrion! Umm this is Dany. She’s a... friend. Dany, meet my neighbour, Tyrion.”
“Hello there!” Dany gave Tyrion a quick wave and a laugh. The man was three sheets to the wind!
“You’ve finally got yourself a girl! Let me drink to that! Well done, boy!” Tyrion mimicked the motion of giving a toast before taking a swig of the purple liquid from his beaker.
“Unfortunately, we’re a bit busy at the moment. So...” Jon said to him, hand still around his door knob as if poised and ready to flee into the confines of his home. “Congratulations on the success of your wine though. I know how hard you’ve worked on it.”
Dany’s brows rose up high as she looked between Jon and the shorter man in amusement. Did Tyrion really make homemade wine? Was that legal?
“Ahh.... I see what you mean.” Just then, a chorus of girly giggles and sensual moans erupted from somewhere behind the shorter man. “Well... I best leave you youngsters to it then. I’ll send you a sample of my wine soon, Jon.” Tyrion left them with a waggle if his brows and a wink, before sidling back into his apartment. The meaning behind said waggle and wink were no mystery to the two individuals standing in the hallway.
“Good lord. I’m so sorry about that.” Jon muttered, thoroughly embarrassed. “Tyrion can be a bit much.”
“That was... something else. Are all your neighbours like him? Are they all so… colourful?”
“Well....” Jon thought back to his interactions with the fellow residents of his building. From the cat lady upstairs who had ten cats, to the dancer who loved to bust a move in the nude two doors down, his building housed some of the most eccentric of individuals he’d ever met. “I’m not going to lie. Yes.”
That drew another giggle from Dany. This trip was definitely turning out to be far more interesting than she anticipated.
Turning the handle, Jon pushed the door in. Light spilled out from inside of his home and onto the dimly lit hallway, casting a trapezoid shaped glow of white on the floor.
“Welcome to my home. Finally.” Jon said, holding the door open and gesturing for Dany to enter with a smile.
Crossing the threshold as she allowed Jon to shut the door behind her, Dany took in the place that was his abode. There was a small living room on the right, complete with a comfy looking grey couch, a tall standing lamp and a glass coffee table a top a cream coloured rug. To the left was a small kitchen area with an island where Jon was pattering about, opening and closing cabinets and stocking the fridge with his groceries. Just by the living room was a pair of doors that swung open to a little balcony. It appeared to be a very cosy space, simple, but very quaint. A brightly lit home awash with sunlight, streaming in from the windows. A haven where creativity could roam free.
“You have a lovely place and it’s not the least bit messy.” There wasn’t dirty laundry or rubbish strewn about anywhere to be seen. In fact, everything looked impeccably neat, without a speck of dust.
“Well, you haven’t seen my work area.” Jon said closing the door to his fridge. He’d have to bring her there to show her his art in a bit.
Cocking her head to a side, Dany thought for a moment before saying: “Doesn’t creativity usually come with a degree of messiness? You should see my writing desk. In fact, you should see my office when I get busy writing. I don’t come out for days on end and if somebody comes in, they don’t even realize I’m in there. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m usually hidden behind piles of paper, books and empty mugs stained with tea, so high that as you can imagine, someone as small as me would easily be drowned by them all.” Dany told him. “God knows how that hasn’t happened already!”
Jon laughed at Dany’s sudden revelation. Chuckling along with him, Dany clasped her hands together in front of her belly, rocking a little on her feet as peals of feminine laughter swam through the air, coalescing with his deeper ones. He could just envision them laughing together about the silliest things over breakfast in the morning or any time during the day really. How strange to think like that of someone he just barely became acquainted with?
“You’re a writer then?”
“Mhmm. Well, I’m currently an editor for my father’s books. When he wants to publish one of course. One day, I’d like to have a book of my own. In the meantime, I write stories and post them online for fun.”
The tone of pride in her voice was palpable. Jon instantly knew that she was someone who loved what she did for a living. She was adorable and a fellow creator! He liked her very much already.
“So.... where are your art pieces, Jon? My curiosity is just dying to be appeased!” Dany admitted after their laughter quietened down, looking around the space once more. Her startlingly violet irises were glowing with eager anticipation and her grin sent his beating heart skipping like a gleeful child. Gosh, she was so very lovely.
“Oh! That! Right this way, Dany. I’ll show you.” Jon lead them further into the apartment, towards a room in the back.
Shockingly, he almost completely forgot about the whole reason he had brought her to his home. Being with her seemed so easy, so enjoyable. It felt as if his worries had all been thrown out of his mind to the furthest reaches of the earth! What a funny occurrence this was. But they did have things to do. Reeling himself back on track, it was time to get on with the main event.
“Woah.”
The likeness was uncanny. The woman really looked like a splitting image of her, down to the freckles dusting her cheek bones. They even had the exact same eye colour - a rare lilac purple.
Growing up, people used to call her names and make fun of her for them. She hated them and would always go home crying when the school day was done. One fine afternoon, her mother calmed her down and lifted her onto her lap. Tenderly brushing away the last of her tears, her darling mummy told her astutely that there was no point in hating her eyes because one shouldn’t change what they were born with. Instead, she should love them. She was beautiful the way she was. So, from then on, little Dany faced her bullies head on, scaring them away with the promise to bite their heads off like the monster that they called her. As she grew older, she found people envied her purple irises, saying that they were so unique, going as far to ask her what contact lenses she had on. Turns out, being different wasn’t too bad. The people who love you will stay with you regardless of what your appearance was.
The painted woman had her silver hair braided and coiled around her head with the rest falling freely down to her waist. The image captured strands of silver being picked up by the wind as she stood at the edge of a cliff, dressed in black, looking into the distance watching her children frolic in the sky. An odd sense of Déjà vucrept up upon Dany.
The dragons are my children. Children?
There were three of them, the biggest one was red and black, the middle one was green and red and the smallest one was a beautiful cream and gold.
Drogon, Rheagal and Viserion.
The names resounded in her ears. Except.... How? How did he know what she dreamt? All that she’d been seeing since she was a little girl. Her heart pounded. Taking a stumbling step back from his work, Dany sucked in a ragged breath as a scene flashed through her head.
Dragon eggs heated by the fire amidst a funeral pyre cracking, hatching, her babies huddling close to her naked body, unburnt by the licking flames as the wood around her charred and turned to ash.
“How? What?” Shaking her head in disbelief, she breathed asking the handsome stranger as much as asking herself.
“Like I said, I saw her in my dreams. So, I painted her.” Jon walked over to join her by the painting. “Ever since my childhood, I’ve been having these dreams at night about someone who was me, but not me. When I woke, I would paint the things I saw.”
Tracing a finger over the canvas, over the rough, bumpy ridges of the brush strokes under her finger tips that created the orange, purple horizon the dragons were flying towards, Dany listened and her pulse started to race.
“The things I see, they are just so realistic. It feels like an out of body experience of a life that isn’t my own. Definitely, not this life.”
Swallowing deeply, she knew what he meant.
Trekking through the haboob blowing across a desert, following a blood red comet. Her sweat dripping down her face, so famished she could faint from hunger and dehydration.
She had never in her life been to a desert before. There weren’t any deserts in London.
“These days, the dreams have changed from being focused on a man who looked like me to a woman.” Looking straight at her, he continued. “A woman, who looked just like you.”
Tilting her head to observe the man beside her, her eyes drifted over his features. Her mind finally placing where she had seen him before. He was the man of her dreams. The man who made up the half of the union of fire and ice with the queen who wore her face.
“Wow, okay. This is really anomalous.” Taking a deep breath, she blinked rapidly, trying to gather her thoughts. Logic and reason were battling to accept the impossible. “These dreams.... do they happen to be set in the medieval ages?”
“How did you know?”
Holding up her hand indicating that he let her continue. “In these dreams, did you see yourself as a King?”
The queen of the Seven Kingdoms and her king stood on their balcony of the Red Keep, their new home, looking down at the city. The king had his arms around his queen, holding her close, looking forward to creating a new future for Westeros.
“Umm yes.” He saw himself addressing his people as he sat upon his throne, looking to his right, he smiled at his silver haired queen, a feeling of warmth and love blooming in his chest. Jon felt that sensation once again just thinking about his dream. Looking at the woman in front of him who looked just like the queen in his dreams, oddly that sensation only swelled.
Glancing up at him, Dany asked: “In your dreams, your queen who looked like me and your doppelgänger.... were the two of them involved?”
His eyebrows drew into a deeper furrow with each passing question.
“Yes. They were in love.” Jon nodded in affirmation. “Well, at least I think so. I could feel it in here.” He pointed at his chest. “The way the man and the woman looked at one another. They were very much besotted with each other. And the amount of snogging they did...” He coughed.
“This is going to sound absolutely bonkers, but I think you deserve to know this.” Dany laughed a laugh of disbelief. “I think.... I may not be a hundred percent certain, but I think… I may be having those dreams too. The very same ones as you but from the queen’s point of view. In my dreams I saw myself married to a man from a snowy place in the North who looked just like you.”
“Seriously?” Jon’s mouth fell open as he processed her words, trying to wrap his mind around her disclosure.
His eyes were so wide they were almost bulging out of his head. He looked so comical Dany could have snorted.
“We ruled as monarchs together over a place called Westeros, I believe.” she replied, moving to the next art piece, leaving a stunned Jon with his mouth agape.
This one was equally beautiful. It was a painting of a wolf. The wolf was so white he blended in with the snowy background behind him. His intelligent eyes seemed to glow like garnets the deepest shade of red. Or, like the very blood pumping through my veins, Dany noted with morbid fascination. “He’s magnificent, Jon. You are very talented.”
“Thank you. His name is Ghost. He’s the trusty dire wolf companion of mine or well, the guy with my face in my dreams.” Jon laughed wearily, rubbing a palm over his face. “I’m never going to get used to all this. We’re clearly not the people we see in our dreams, but are we really not? This is so confusing.”
“Don’t I know it.” Another painting propped up against a cupboard with Jon’s art supplies of dragons in flight, breathing fire caught her eye. “For example,” Walking over to it, Dany pointed to them and said: “These are my children. Drogon, Rheagal and Viserion. And I...” She waved her arms in a flourish. “am the Mother of Dragons. How do I know that? Dragons don’t even exist.”
The two of them shared a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation they were embroiled in.
“How are the dreams like for you? Are they frequent or occasional?” Jon queried.
Moving over to Jon join who was stood by his work table, Dany tucked a strand of her hair that behind her ear and began recounting her life. “Since I could remember, almost every night, I would dream and see a girl who could very well be my twin. She seemed to grow along with me from a child, into a teen, into an adult. All the while, I had to witness her life.” She frowned as she recalled the nightly movies playing in her sleep. “Her life was.... hard. From being homeless to being sold by her brother, then raped by her so called husband, defiled, humiliated. It was absolutely terrifying. I still remember the dread that stayed with me long after I woke in the morning, almost like that all happened to me.”
Jon wanted desperately to reach out and hug her as he watched Dany’s arms curling around herself subconsciously.
“That’s horrible.” Jon empathized. He wanted desperately to reach out and hug her as he watched Dany’s arms curling around herself subconsciously. The woman beside him must have been experiencing the dread and the fear the girl from her dream experienced. Just like how the death and the pain of being stabbed still lingered in his flesh.
“It was. Fortunately, she was strong, she survived it all and rose to queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I don’t think I could have survived what happened to her.” Dany sighed, a small little smile curling at her lips for the pride she felt for her dream twin. “Recently though, the dreams have been frequent but considerably less... dreary. These nights I would see snippets of the life of her and her King, your twin.” A genuine smile graced Dany’s pink lips along with a tinkling laugh.
“What did you see?” Jon was eager to know.
Did she see their alter egos in love as well? They looked so happy together. Happiness was rare and hard to find. In the medieval times, even more so. From the bits of his dreams and from what Dany just told him, he could tell that neither of their dream avatars lives’ were too great, up until the King in the North met his Dragon Queen. He wondered if she also saw their more risqué activities like he did on some nights, when the heat of summer grew too unbearable leaving him aroused and frustrated under the covers. His mind conjured up images of the adventurous young rulers in bed. Boy, were they wanton. Jon cleared his throat and wedged his index finger between the collar of his shirt and his chest, pulling at his clothes. Was the room getting warmer?
“Well, I saw them…” Glancing at Jon, Dany saw that his ears were turning red again. Interesting. “What are you thinking about, Mister Stark? Something naughty?” Dany narrowed her eyes at him playfully.
“No.” Jon replied, his voice rose to a suspiciously higher pitch. “Just answer the question please.”
Messing with him was fun, she thought as she stifled a snigger.
“As I was saying, I saw a lot of them lately, such as their first meeting, I saw them talking by a cliff and riding into battle together on the backs of their dragons. I saw the love in their eyes they had for each other. I also.... Oh.”
So that’s what he was remembering.
Dany voice grew smaller as a blush rose up her neck to grace her cheeks. “Well.... I....”
“Judging from your blush, you know very well what I was imaging earlier.” Jon exclaimed with a bark of laughter.
“Shut up.” The young aspiring writer grumbled. “It’s not my fault that those two were so damn passionate and in love!”
He couldn’t agree more. “This is all very voyeuristic isn’t it?”
“Very.” Dany mused.
“How do you feel knowing that we’re both going through this?” Jon couldn’t tell from her expression if she was glad or upset. He certainly was pleasantly surprised. He wasn’t alone in this confusing situation. Was she happy?
“Honestly?” Dany smiled. “I’m not too miffed about it. I think it’s pretty cool. Just imagine, we’re probably the only two people in the world going through something like this.”
“It’s very likely.” The both of them stood in companionable silence for long moments before he spoke up again. “So... listen, I have an unusual request to make. I know I’ve already taken up a lot of your time and you can definitely say no. But, could I.... paint you? One day in the future… I’d like to do that.”
“Me? What for?”
“Sentimental reasons I suppose. To commemorate finally meeting the woman of my dreams. Well, sort of. It’s also a guise for me to keep you around a little while longer.” Bumping his shoulder with hers playfully, Jon told her. Hearing to her breathe a chuckle and return the gesture, taking a leap of faith, he further professed, “I do want to get to know you as well. I want to give this weird, special connection between us a chance.”
And keep you with me, if I’m lucky, forever, because I think I’m falling for you. A fairly absurd occurrence for a new acquaintance, but was this what people called love at first sight?
Dany considered his request for a moment. This was not what she had foreseen at all of this holiday. However, just by spending such a short time with him, she could already tell that something was simmering between them. This dream connection they had could very well blossom into something very real and magical. There had to be a reason why they had the same dreams. Maybe spending more time together, they could figure out why this was happening.
“Yeah okay. Why not?” She replied with a shrug. “This could be fun. I’ve never sat for a portrait before.”
Jon beamed in delight at her. “Thank you so much, Dany!”
“How about tomorrow? Paint me like one of those French girls if you will, Mister Stark.”
“Wha… What?!”
#jonerys#jonerys fic#jonerys modern au#jonerys fanfic#jon snow x daenerys targaryen#jon x dany#jon snow#daenerys targaryen#got fanfiction
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I finally got to see the Game Of Thrones Tapestry today for myself which means I got to indulge in my Jonerys love. It's an absolutely gorgeous piece of art and with 1000 hours of work put into it, it's astounding to look at. But here's those self indulgent Jon/Dany panels.
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@kwonbomi makes the most gorgeous Jonerys art I have ever seen. I want to frame them all and put them all over my walls ❤️
anonymous about @kwonbomi
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Author tag!
Thank you @lilacs-with-lavender for tagging me in this! :)
fandoms you write for
Jonerys rn, though I used to write for Stydia and am MAYBE entertaining the idea of writing one last au for them. My Stydia swan song lol. But yeah mostly Jonerys
where you post
catch me over at ao3 ✌️
most popular one shot
we will not give up on love now which is a s8 fix it fic that I wrote immediately after the shit season aired and apparently I was not the only one who needed to channel their rage into the soft ending our babies deserved
most popular multichapter
Is this even a question lol I mean I only HAVE one multichapter but even if I didn’t it’d be where the wild things are
favorite story you’ve written
wtwta. I never could have EVER imagined it would be what it is now when I started it. I love it so dearly.
a story you were nervous to post
give to me your leather, take from me my lace totally. Funny story I actually never had ANY intentions of publishing this and/ or publishing any Jonerys fics. I was in a writing slump at the time and had just rewatched Thrones in preparation for s8 (lol) and I got an idea for a jonerys fic that wouldn’t leave me alone. So I wrote it mainly to get back in the habit of writing, and I thought I would just keep it for myself. But then Fer made me publish it and HERE WE ARE lol. And I’m still making her beta all my stuff lol
how do you choose your titles?
hahaha I like how this suggests I have a method. I like... pick a line from a song that I listen to on loop while I write. I’m terrible at picking titles
do you outline?
YES I am a List girl and I live by outlines. They’re color coded too
complete number of stories
According to AO3 it is 72! Wow I knew I was wordy but not that wordy
what do you have in progress?
Oh man. Two remix fics. One Valentine’s day fic. My next multichapter is being planned out too. And are we gonna count my Stydia ice dancing au? (I’ll finish it one day okay)
do you accept prompts?
Ahh I used to but I took forever to fill them so it’s probably not a good idea for me to accept prompts. I’m also too wordy for that lol. But if you send me asks about things you think should happen in the wtwta universe there’s a 1000% chance it’ll end up in a one shot eventually
upcoming story you’re most excited about
Tbh? The Jonas Brothers au. (which really is gonna end up being more of a celebrity au.) Martha made me gorgeous art and I CANT WAIT TO ACTUALLY WRITE IT
tagging @ronsweasley @esteriivy @the-last-targaryens @ashleyfanfic @adecila @thescarletgarden1990 @anneshirlei and anyone else who wants to do this!!
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guys it is a fucking fact that dany and jonerys targ gifsets are literally the prettiest...
like I remember a few years back when they hadn’t reached bae level yet and EVERY time i’d see a pretty GoT gifset it would be Dany’s. And I’d be like hey you’re not my ABSOLUTE absolute fave yet but this is so ridiculously gorgeous, MUST HIT REBLOG. and well, now most of those gif makers are jonerys shippers so like we are blessed to have this much pretty art.
still in awe :’)
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