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Jon tastes of bittersweet dream wine when Daenerys kisses his lips.

He, once a king of empty, snowy woods in the North, and her, a queen of flamelight. Hot cinders and smoke. The burnt-black flesh of her enemies left. She soothes Jon's brow, listening to him mumble about Winterfell and his sisters and his brothers.

Daenerys gathers him in her arms, laughing quietly in his neck.

Jon's hand covers Daenerys's swollen belly. All they need is each other, and their son, and a promise to leave Westeros.

There will be no more queens or kings.

There will be no wheel.

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