Chapter Text
A/N: It made a lot of sense to me to pair Dany and Gendry because both were in love with Starks and both eventually were rejected by Starks. Tags and summary make it very clear what this fic is about and what it contains. Yes this includes Jonerys, but it contains Dany x Gendry too, hence why they are the first ship in the ship tags. There are graphic depictions of Dany and Gendry having sex (spoiler not spoiler if you read the tags), so if that is not your cup of tea, you have been thoroughly warned multiple times (tags, summary, and this Author’s Note).
As always, I stand by my fellow authors.
While Daenerys considered herself a strong woman, this was one of those rare times she allowed her queenly mask to slip so she could let out some of the anguish that had been building inside since her arrival in this hell-hole Jon called “home.”
She all but ran to the stables, chest heaving, the image of Jon’s face full of disgust as he pulled away from her swimming before her eyes, haunting her. How could he kiss her one moment and then pull away from her in revulsion the next? How could he go from whispering sweet nothings in her ear on the journey to Winterfell, to being barely able to look at her? It made no sense and it was a pain unlike any Dany had ever felt. Yes, she had lost her first husband and yes she had left behind a lover in Meereen. But Jon’s rejection? If there was one thing that could break her, Dany was sure this would be it.
As she pushed open the stable doors and let the smells of hay and horse wash over her, Dany’s breathing started to calm. It was the one thing Jon couldn’t take away from her. The one thing that had no memory attached to him. She couldn’t go to the dragons, not now, the sight of Rhaegal conjuring up images of Jon astride him. She couldn’t walk about the castle, every inch of it screaming that she was an outsider. But here in the stables, she could soak in the scent she had always associated with freedom.
Slowly, Dany approached her black palfrey, slipping off her glove in order to stroke his nose. Per the Dothraki custom, Dany hadn’t named him officially, but she thought of him as Shadow. Fitting for a creature so elegant and dark.
As she stroked his nose and rubbed her cheek on his soft skin, Dany wondered when it got so complicated between her and Jon. Things had started off so...fatefully. It was as if they were meant to meet and fall in love. Really, it still did. Out of all the men in Westeros, she just so happened to fall for the one man who was her last living relation in the world?
It should have been perfect. As the last two Targaryens, they could defeat the woman whose family had torn theirs apart, together. They could take back their family’s kingdom, together. They could rule, together.
But now Jon couldn’t even kiss her.
She knew he still loved her. The tenderness of his words communicated as much. But he could never show her that love, not anymore. Now all he could give her were words. Words that she didn’t want to hear. You are my queen. Queen, monarch, ruler. That’s all she would ever be, to him and everyone else. She would never be a woman. They didn’t want the woman. The woman wasn’t of use to them and the woman disgusted Jon.
He had touched her, licked her, fucked her. Cried out in ecstasy as he shot his seed inside of her. But now that was all done. Now she was forbidden to him. He was a guilt-ridden, self-loathing masochist who would deny himself water to save from dying of thirst if he were told he wasn’t allowed to drink it. It didn’t matter to him.
She felt like she had been tricked. Like he had brought her here to use her for her armies and dragons and weapons and cunt, and now that her usefulness was over, he was casting her aside. Who manipulated whom? she had asked Sansa, meaning it in jest. But now that the war against the dead was over, those words felt more true than ever.
Dany couldn’t sit still. She couldn’t remain cooped up in this castle a moment longer. She would have liked to ride on Drogon for as far as he would carry her but as she couldn’t look at the dragons without thinking of Jon, her Shadow would have to do.
But just as Dany moved away from his stall to grab a saddle, the stable doors opened, causing Dany’s heart to nearly leap out of her chest. Who could possibly be in the stables at this time of night?
“Your Grace,” Gendry Waters, Baratheon rather, stuttered, clearly not expecting to see her here. “My apologies, I just wanted...just needed...” It was as he struggled to find the words that Dany noted the tear streaks on his cheeks, the strain in his voice. He’s been crying, she thought, and though she couldn’t know for sure yet, Dany thought it might be for the same reason she had been.
“Just wanted to escape?” Dany offered and Gendry stared at her, his head cocked to the side in confusion.
“How did you know?” he asked her quietly, dabbing at his cheeks with his sleeve.
“Because, I’m here too.” For a moment they just stared at each other, and for some reason as Dany took in the once bastard’s features, her stomach gave a little flip. She was almost never alone, as she was now. Someone was always at her side, either a counselor, or an advisor, or a guard...or Jon. But there was no one else at the stables, save her and Gendry. No counselor, no advisor, no guard. No Jon.
“You’re alone,” Gendry noted as if reading her thoughts, and she nodded apprehensively. Then, realizing his assessment must have sounded oddly accusatory, Gendry gave a short, awkward bow. “I apologize, Your Grace. I’ll leave you to—”
“You’re not bothering me, Lord Baratheon,” Dany acknowledged. “If that’s what you fear.” As Gendry’s face relaxed at her words, Dany’s stomach gave another small flip. She wanted to add that he could stay as long as he liked but the sentiment felt odd. Too… forward.
“Where’s Jon?” Gendry asked, almost as a distraction. “Err, the Warden of the North?” he corrected himself, though Dany didn’t give two shits if anyone addressed Jon with his proper titles right now. The respect people had for him was of little interest to her when he had recently treated her with so little of it. Her queenly mask slipping, Dany rolled her eyes.
“Sleeping off his drink, probably fantasizing about being King of the Free Folk or something,” she jested darkly and Gendry tilted his head in confusion again.
“Why aren’t you with him?” he asked, choosing to ignore her last comment. At his question, Dany’s eyes prickled with tears and she looked away from him, swallowing hard. Noting her demeanor, he hedged a guess. “Is it...is it his sisters?” The way Gendry hissed the word sisters made the hairs on Dany’s neck stand on end and she thought she was beginning to understand the reason for Gendry’s need to get away. They were more similar than she initially thought.
“No, not his sisters,” she admitted. She only wished it were that simple.
“What then? You two seemed so...happy when we were on the ship.” As he spoke, Gendry took a tentative step forward, then another when she didn’t back away. His eyes are so blue, Dany couldn’t help but notice. Blue and beautiful, and staring only at her. She wondered if prompting her to talk about her problems was a solace from his own.
“Things have changed,” Dany hedged. She couldn’t tell Gendry the real reason Jon had rejected her. Couldn’t let the truth get out about who Jon really was. Though as she stared at the new Lord of Storm’s End, she was tempted. Who would Gendry even tell, after all? Lately it seemed she had no one to confide in. Not Tyrion, not Varys, not Jon, not Missandei. She was alone, always alone. She wished she had someone to speak to about all that troubled her. A shoulder to cry on. A friend.
“Things have changed for him, you mean,” Gendry correctly guessed. “Because if it was you who rejected him, I’m guessing you wouldn’t be in here trying to escape, now would you?”
“You’re very observant and very brusque, Lord Baratheon,” Dany noted with a raised eyebrow. Gendry smiled, his first since happening upon her here.
“I was raised a bastard. Forgive me, My Queen, but I was never taught the proper way to speak to royalty.” He gave an over exaggerated bow making Dany’s lips quirk and her eyes roll.
“I was raised on the streets of Essos. I wasn’t taught how to talk proper either,” Dany confessed with a small huff of laughter, and she thought she saw Gendry’s shoulders sag, possibly in relief that he had assessed the situation correctly and he could be so informal with her without causing offense. “Jon was though,” Dany suddenly noted soberly. “Jon got to grow up in a castle, with servants and hot meals and an education.” He knew family, Dany added in her head. He knew home. And perhaps that was why he didn’t appreciate their relationship as much as Dany did. Why he no longer seemed to want to fight for it. For while he was all she had, Jon had his sisters, his brother, the castle home he grew up in. He had so much more than only her, as if she were just… unnecessary.
“Jon’s an idiot,” Gendry told her bluntly.
Dany shook her head and snapped out of her miserable musings. “And what makes you say that, Lord Baratheon?” Dany asked him, not quite sure why she took two more steps toward him, slowly, steadily closing the gap, but she did anyway. It felt good being close to someone. To speak so plainly with someone. As she might Missandei - when she was not distracted by Grey Worm - or Jorah when he was alive.
“Because if I had someone like you, I wouldn’t let you go for anything,” Gendry confessed, and the sweetness of his words caused Dany’s breath to hitch. She knew he wasn’t in love with her. That wasn’t where he was speaking from. He was speaking from a place of rejection as well, Dany realized.
“So Lady Arya has refused your affections?” Dany guessed.
“Aye,” Gendry finally admitted. “I asked her to marry me, be the Lady of Storm’s End alongside me and she turned me down. I don’t give a shit if she’s not lady-like. She can wear pants and train with the master at arms every day if she likes. But still, she doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want me.”
“Then she’s a fool too,” Dany informed him and Gendry merely nodded.
He took a step closer, Dany feeling a small pull in the center of her stomach, right behind her navel as if attached to a hook and string, the other end attached to… Gendry. She moved a step closer as well.
Then, she wasn’t quite sure what possessed her to do it. Maybe out of loneliness, maybe out of sheer need, maybe out of genuine attraction and that something connecting them, Dany didn’t know. But she reached out and cupped Gendry’s cheek all the same, and he let her.
“You have very beautiful eyes, Gendry,” Dany commented. “Did you know that?” She stroked her thumb against his cheek, reveling in the way Gendry leaned into her touch. Sensing where this was going, he snuck a tentative hand around Dany’s waist.
“Do you want…” Gendry began, but let the words trail off. Did she want? Did he?
“Do you?” she asked in return and Gendry sighed.
“I’ve never wanted much,” he confessed. “Though, the more I gain, the more I seem to want.” Dany nodded in recognition. She was very familiar with that feeling.
“And are you the type who lets himself have what he wants? Or are you the type to deny yourself?” Gendry didn’t answer, not with words. Just slipped his other hand around her, pulling her in closer, strong hands running along her back. His embrace was warm and comforting. Inviting. Something about it oddly familiar, but also thrillingly new and exciting. Dany’s blood thrummed in her veins lighting up every nerve in her body, making her hyper aware of everything. The heat of Gendry’s skin under his clothing. The chill of the Northern winter air. The rich, musty smell of the hay lining the stable stalls. The soft nickers of the dosing horses. The loud, erratic beating of her own heart.
Dany let her hand slide down Gendry’s face so she could run her thumb along his bottom lip.
“This is dangerous,” he whispered, but leaned down to bring their noses together just the same. Dany couldn’t help but smirk at his words.
“You’ve been on the run from Lannister soldiers who wanted you dead. You rowed across the Narrow Sea to escape being burned in tribute to the Red God. You’ve fought dead men in the frozen North. Yet this frightens you?” Gendry rolled his eyes, but instantly schooled his features to a more serious expression.
“If Jon finds out...”
“Let him,” Dany said carelessly, breathlessly. “He turned away from me as Arya turned away from you. Let them see. They don’t own us Gendry.” Gendry shook his head.
“No, they don’t,” he agreed.
And with that, Gendry’s lips were on hers.
There was nothing soft or hesitant about it. Gendry didn’t kiss her like a green boy eager to please the Queen. He kissed her with confidence and possessiveness, as though he knew, if nothing else were true in the world, it was that Dany belonged to him. Perhaps he was just that sure of himself. Or maybe it was that he thought he would only get this one chance to bed a queen and so wasn’t letting the opportunity be wasted by being shy about it.
Whatever it was, Dany knew Gendry had been right. This was dangerous. But Dany couldn’t stop it, even if she wanted to. Not when Gendry was kissing her like he owned her. Pushing her up against the stable stall like he had a right to. Hands slipping off her coat and unlacing the ties of her pants like he had done it a thousand times before.
It felt good to be desired without him pulling away in disgust. It felt good to be kissed without guilt. It felt good to have this one small chance to not be a queen, but a woman.
His mouth didn’t taste of ale, as Jon’s had, but something sweeter. Something warmer. Something completely intoxicating.
Gendry wasted no time in shoving down her pants and shorts, bending down to slip one leg out of them and over her boot, then the other, giving Dany a brief respite with which to fill her lungs with as much oxygen as possible before his lips returned to hers.
When he stood and took her mouth once more, he kissed her like he was punishing her, like he was worshipping her. Dany didn’t know how it could be both at the same time but she knew she loved it and never wanted to be kissed any other way. The warm wet pressure of his tongue seeking hers. The soft silk of his jaw, freshly shaved sliding under her fingertips.
She was lost. Head swimming in the sea that was Gendry’s touch and affection. His lips trailing down the column of her throat to lick and suck. His fingers dragging up the hem of her slip to tease between her thighs. Dany felt helpless. Like she was just a passenger, being led along a path by someone else. Everything out of her control.
But that’s what she liked best about it, she realized. Giving up that control made her feel more free and more powerful than anything. Gendry shoved her slip’s straps down to expose her breasts and she submitted to him fully. Closing her eyes and arching into his touch, she spread her legs, allowing him to step between them and grind impatient hips into her core. He wasn’t Jon but Dany didn’t care. She needed something. Needed this. And Gendry was willing to give it to her. Was willing to accept her. Something she had experienced too infrequently since arriving in Westeros. Welcome. Belonging. Connection.
As he finally fumbled with his own trousers, Gendry looked up at her, nearly nose to nose, both of them panting. “You want this?” he asked, hand reaching inside to fist his cock, the sight rendering Dany speechless. Instead of answering, she merely clung to his shoulders and allowed him to hoist her up, pressing her into the wall as he took her mouth again, the rhythm now familiar, comforting, needed. “Come here, love,” Gendry growled against her lips, holding her hips steady with one hand, lining himself up with her sopping sex with the other, slowly sinking in…
“Oh gods,” Dany breathed, back arched, eyes clenched, toes curled, mouth agape. “Gods, oh gods!” It had been weeks since she and Jon lay together and Dany could feel the passage of time with every inch Gendry sunk into her. Or perhaps he was just that large, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t know anything at the moment. Except that she wanted more.
He started slow, getting her used to it, letting her adjust to him. But once he could slide in and out with ease, Gendry set a punishing pace. Hips slamming into Dany’s, driving her wild. Driving her mad. The feel of him inside her, under her fingertips, mouth against hers plundering there as forcefully as his cock plundered her cunt, taking everything, all her moans, all her sighs, all her pleasure, and claiming it for his own, making sure she knew exactly who he was, knew exactly who was giving it to her like this.
She was mindless, blissfully wrapped up in him. This boy she had met months before who had followed Jon like a lost wolf pup to the edge of the world, now fucking her so good, there was no mistaking it; he wasn’t a boy. He was a man.
He whispered into her ear, lovely things, dirty things, filthy things. Calling her his good little queen. Tight little queen. Love. Daenerys. Your Grace. So fucking tight. So wet for me. Give it to me, love. Come on my cock. Be a good little queen and come on my cock, Dany.
She was so close. It was so good. Gendry. Her Gendry. She didn’t care about anything else. Nor any one else. Just him. Just him sliding that fat cock of his inside her over and over again. Almost. Almost…
“Yes, come on, love,” Gendry coaxed, mouth at her neck, hand between their bodies, thumbing her clit. “You’ve got it now, come for me.”
So close. So close…
Close like those footsteps on the dirt outside the stable doors…
Footsteps.
Footsteps?
Footsteps!
Startled, Dany looked up over Gendry’s shoulder, and she locked eyes with… him.
“Gendry!” she gasped and slapped his back but he either thought she was doing so out of pleasure and hadn’t heard the footsteps, or he just didn’t care and was determined to see her to climax.
Dany’s chest was a tempest of emotions as she stared into those dark eyes. Hurt, betrayal, petty satisfaction, anger, humiliation, bliss…
Bliss…
Bliss…
Bliss…
“Gendry!” Dany clenched her eyes shut and she screamed his name as she came, clinging to him as if he were the only thing holding her to the earth, and really, in that moment, he was, he was all she had. This silly little tryst in this stuffy old stable in the middle of a place that wasn’t her home or Gendry’s, in the middle of the agony that was unrequited love, they had both somehow managed to find this.
Whatever this was, Dany didn’t know.
But as Gendry grunted and hummed releasing his seed deep inside of her, Dany knew whatever this was, she wanted more of it.
Even if she had to take it while the man she loved who could not reciprocate all over her feelings back to her stood and watched at the door…
A/N: Yes, in case you were wondering, it's Jon. Jon's standing in the doorway watching them. Because who else would it be?
Sorry about the cliffhanger! Will update in the next few days!