By B.B. Asmodeus.

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Fandom: Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire.

Pairings: Jon Snow/Tyrion Lannister; Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth. Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen (implied); Jaime Lannister/Cersei Lannister (mentions).

Rating: Explicit.

Categories: AU-Like-You-Have-No-Idea. Fix-it fic. Close to crack!fic, but not yet. Omega 'verse. Romance, Humor, Drama, Suspense. Alternate reality of 8x04 / 8x06. Jumps in time.

Spoilers: Books, Seasons 1-8.

Timeline: This chapter starts in 8x04 "The Last of the Starks." After the feast, some things will change, though.

Summary: Daenerys was intrigued by his request. She acted as if Jon had stuttered, tilting her face with the curiosity of a lethal bird. "Forgive Tyrion." Jon mumbled. "Show mercy." "Why, because you love him?"


#3. We'll remain in the Pre-The Bells timeline a little more in this chapter and in the next, for one simple reason: CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

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"I didn't see it coming.

But I never really had much faith

In the universe's magic (Magic), oh, no

Till it pulled us to that time and place"

-Bring me the horizon, "Mothertongue."

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Jaime hoped it was temporary.

The tightness closing around his ribs, making him breath harder. The struggle in his loins, running hot and cold, with no in-between. This dryness in the back of his throat, making his words harsher that intended.

Jaime expected all to be temporary, because he was getting truly unnerved.

He longed for the numbness that usually propelled him to endure Winterfell's overall disdain towards him. He was just fine not giving a whore's tit about what they reckon of him. He had a routine and it helped him. From emptying his pot full of urine at the mornings, carrying his dirty clothes to the cleaning maids, dragging potatoes sacks inside the kitchens, and sparring with the youngsters at the late afternoons.

It wasn't much.

Jaime was not a trusted advisor like his brother. He didn't have Sansa Stark's confidence to offer strategic points at Council meetings. Much less could he help in reconstructions with just one damn hand. But at least, he could drag sacks of rice, wheat, and beans from the loading wagons to the castle so the kitchen maids wouldn't break their small backs in two whilst trying.

It wasn't much. But Jaime would have lost his sanity otherwise.

Later at the evening, whilst he rested against the wall of the courtyard after sparring with Podrick, relief claimed him at finally spotting Ser Brienne's white horse cross the northern gates.

He saw her riding the animal in the direction of the stables, and Jaime hastened his pace to reach her.

"Did you find some snarks along the way? Did it grant you three wishes, as the old Septas say to scare us in their tales?"

Now dismounting, Brienne turned to the stable's entrance with her usual wide blue eyes. "If that would be so, your mouth would let out more harmonious sounds every time we meet, Ser."

-Yes. Jaime grinned. -This was what I had been waiting for. "I thought you loved the sounds that came out of my mouth."

Ah. The redness of her face. The woman shook her head, taking care to remove her leather gloves. Unlike Jaime's, they felt sweaty and hot. He discovered it by feeling them around his face as Brienne found another way to silence him.

They kissed in the middle of the barn; exposed to witnesses, surrounded by the smell of manure.

The armor was an obstacle in his desire to haul Brienne closer to him. His golden hand clumsily hit the steel when he tried.

Tlink-tlink-tlink, the steel seemed to mock him.

He moaned in frustration, then moaned again for better reasons, the same hunger boiling him finding its match. Brienne's lips were salty on his, and Jaime wanted to sweeten them with his own breath.

"I have to give my report to Commander Snow." Brienne murmured, parting her face from his and lowering her chin towards him. Jaime stood up on tiptoes to pull at her neck for a second kiss.

He knew Brienne could stop him easily, but her reluctance spoke more than words. They kissed again for a longer spell. The tenure and softness intertwined with the unknown. A mess of sensations Jaime was just beginning to get used to.

The tightness around his ribs got looser. His breath went in and out, smoother.

Three days without touching her. Three days of enduring a boring wait for her return. All because Lady Sansa had sent Brienne to patrol the southern perimeter without allowing Jaime to accompany her party of scouts.

Jaime was pushed by the chest to create distance, pulling a resigned sigh from him. "Will it take long?"

Brienne started walking out of the barn, putting her gloves back on. Jaime didn't lose sight of the gesture. Another rarity that had become routine一Her need for skin-to-skin contact.

"Most likely. You shouldn't wait for me."

Jaime rolled his eyes, following her across the patio. In the distance, Podrick continued training the young litter of squires. He didn't wave at Brienne, knowing she wouldn't approve of any distractions during training from his part, but he noticed them passing near them. She really had taught him well.

"Now it turns out that reporting acres of snow needs a session with the High Council?"

Brienne cut him off by making a sudden stop. Jaime almost hit his nose against the hard armor of her back.

"I found frozen corpses." Brienne let out in one breath. "A lot of them. Near Highpoint."

Jaime swallowed. "How many?"

"Between four hundred or more, if you continue north. We will need to burn them. I found no signs of life in the villages near Whitehill House. Which means一"

"They were also invaded by the Dead."

"The rest of the patrollers are on the way. I went ahead to notify the Council."

In Jaime's opinion, they should let the ravens take care of the matter, but of course Jon Snow would want to honor their neighboring Houses.

"You should take a bath and fill your stomach with some stew first." Jaime lifted his chin defiantly. "I doubt Lady Sansa would appreciate your three-days foul smell."

The insult seemed to fly over her head, showing how exhausted she had to be. Deliberately she continued her walk to the Great Hall. "I can take a bath later."

Jaime sighed. "It would be easier for everyone to use the dragons to incinerate the bodies. Loading them and burning them on our own will take time. Time I doubt the Northerners have at their disposal when they are preparing to march south. "

Brienne knew it as well as Jaime. She looked thoughtful, almost gritting her teeth. "Do you think the Queen would aid Lady Sansa in this mission?"

"Maybe. If Jon Snow were the one who ask for it. "

Both shared a doubtful look, then.

"You have not been present in the last three sessions. His relationship with the Queen is tense. "

"Then I feel fortunate to not be in the middle of it." Jaime murmured, as they entered the Great Hall. "I'll prepare my horse, at any case."

That caused their walk together to come to another stop. "Jaime." Brienne looked surprised. Then, shy. "You don't have to come."

"I don't care about the iditioc orders of not including me in the patrols. If you're going back out there, I'm coming with you. Go to her. In the meantime I can recruit men to build the pyres while you try to not fall on your face in front of the wolf lady. Does it sound like a decent deal?"

Grudgingly, Brienne nodded.

The shadows of the hall seemed to emphasized the worst of her features. Jaime found easily the two gray spots under the woman's eyes, showing the poorness of her rest for the last three days. He inspected the largeness of her nose and the abnormal width of her shoulders, exaggerated by the armor.

-No matter. As beastly as she can look… Jaime swallowed hard. -My desire doesn't squelch any less as when she wields Oathkeeper.

He longed to have her at that moment. Fuck reporting to the fucking Starks. After three miserable days in this damned place without good company, Jaime just wanted to fuck her against the stone, bringing warm to their bodies with hurried kisses and hard fumblings.

They didn't even have to undress, Jaime only longed to be inside her; to feel her passion surrounding him.

Instead of that, they mumbled an awkward farewell. Jaime let Ser Brienne go, watching her disappear in the hallway.

As soon as she was out of sight, Jaime felt the uncertainty return, buzzing beneath his skin.

He busied himself by doing what he had promised. He recruited the same men who had helped with the construction of the pyres after the Battle. Some followed him, others did not. Mostly the same men who still spit at his feet. Fortunately, it was during one of these recruiting efforts, asking the farmers for dry hay, that he was overheard by Lord Gendry. From there on, the boy became a quick ally in supporting his efforts.

"Look to you. Initiative suits you, brother."

Jaime looked behind his back, near the blacksmiths' boilers. Tyrion was observing the scene with a quite smile.

Smirking, Jaime walked in his direction.

"I thought you'd be in session."

Tyrion frowned at him, confused. He sit down on an empty carriage used for carrying potatoes sacks. "The Queen is in her chambers with no desire to be bothered, as I recall. What session do you mean?"

Jaime shared the report that Brienne had brought from Highpoint. Tyrion seemed immediately in conflict.

"I'm afraid Drogon and Rhaegal have not fully recovered from their injuries yet. Queen Daenerys has preferred to let them gather all their strength in preparation for the flight south. "

Jaime sighed. "I suspect Lady Stark would rather load the corpses herself, than ask for her assistance, anyway."

"Don't say such nonsense out loud." Tyrion hissed through his teeth, looking around apprehensively. "Of course Daenerys will help her allies. As long as it's a reasonable request. Her dragons may not be an option, but I'm sure Greyworm would lend a decent number of soldiers for the cause."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "The same man who'd rather see my head on a spear?"

"To be fair, he looks at everyone with that specific desire. It's part of his charm." Tyrion rubbed his beard. Jaime could hear him thinking. "Tell me how many men you need and I will consult with the Queen."

"I'm not the right person to determined that. And don't you dare bring my name up to the Dragon girl without having Lady Sansa's approval first. The last thing I need is to end up in the middle of their quarrels." Little did Tyrion know. That what Jaime contributed to the Starks' benefit had one purpose only, and that purpose involved Brienne of Tarth.

He didn't seek to provoke complains from Lady Sansa if he could help it, about possible signs of laziness. Brienne had vouched for him, and Jaime had dishonored her enough already. If he could help with shitty tasks to keep his legs busy and his mouth shut, he'd do it.

Nothing Jaime hated more, than being considered a burden.

He only worried about how long could he endure it. The buzzing on his ears. Cersei's voice prickling at his skin, dragging blood at the surface until she got what she wanted一

一Jaime shaked his head. -Don't. "Maybe you can talk about it with Jon Snow." He dropped his arse down at his brother's side. "You can twirl your eyelashes at him in a sweet way. He seems the type to like that kind of nonsense. "

"You'd be surprised." Tyrion lifted his head, connecting their gazes. He didn't appear panicked to talk about Snow so openly as Jaime had expected. "Commander Snow has proven to be attracted to unconventional… personalities."

Jaime raised an eyebrow. "He should be careful about giving himself away."

Tyrion lowered his head. A gust of cold wind moved his coppery curls. "So far, he's doing a decent job."

Oh. Jaime understood. "So you haven't talked to him."

"There is nothing to talk about."

"Of course. That's why you're following me around the yard like when we were little in the Rock. You looked quite sulky today, but I couldn't pinpoint the exact reason behind it." Jaime got up from the wagon and positioned himself in front of the pathetic form he called brother. "Tyrion. You will be marching south in a fortnight. You need to decide which side you're on."

Tyrion's answering snort was quite sour to hear. "Look who's talking."

Jaime narrowed his eyes. "I don't own any debts to anyone."

"Only to yourself… Oh, forget it." Tyrion shook his head abruptly. "It's very noble what you're doing. The young squires are getting attached to you, so at least you're making a good impression on a part of the population. Their laughter can be heard up to my tower every time you die dramatically under Ser Brienne's sword."

Somewhat confused by the change of conversation, Jaime let Tyrion jump down from the wagon. "What in the hell's did you mean?"

Tyrion sighed, now circling Jaime to walk in the direction of the Maesters Tower. Probably to the library. "Do not suffer in vain, dear brother. It was just me, feeling cornered. Nothing else."

"I came here because..."

Tyrion turned to him, both standing in the middle of the courtyard, attracting the attention of several curious eyes. Suspicious eyes.

Jaime, hating feeling exposed, hastened the step towards the Tower. Tyrion didn't take long to follow at his heels.

It was not until they climbed to the second store of the castle that Jaime turned to the Omega. "I came to the North to fulfill my oath. To fight against the Dead."

Tyrion looked soft at his regard of Jaime. Like he had said the stupidest of things.

"You came to Winterfell to see her one last time."

Jaime didn't find his voice back so easily. He gulped instead.

And Tyrion took the opportunity to plow onwards. "I told you before. We all believed we would die in this miserable place. I don't blame you, Jaime. I would never blame you for wanting to die honorably alongside Lady Brienne."

"Yet it feels like you're blaming me of something. Speak clearly."

"As you wish. Then let's not pretend that you didn't feel relief at the notion of dying here in Winterfell, since it would save you from facing Cersei from the enemy's side."

Jaime held on to the wooden railing with his remaining hand, diverting his attention to the horizon. Towards the damn south.

"Your ambiguous behavior leaves much to be desired in front of the Council. I fear for you for when I'm not here to appease the tensions with Lady Sansa. We need you. Your point of view could help the siege strategy of King's Landing一"

"Your Queen doesn't want me around."

"But Jon does. I know it for a fact. He could support your presence in the Council."

"I wouldn't do much good. Cersei doesn't trust me. She would send me directly to the cells first than to listen to any negotiation attempt coming from me."

"You know how many Scorpions she has been building!"

"By now, she must have built twice as much since I left the Capital! I cannot know what I haven't seen with my own eyes!"

"You know what happened to the Temple of Baelor. It was completely destroyed by wildfire."

Jaime squeezed his eyelids shut. "I wasn't in King's Landing at the time. I didn't see it happen."

Tyrion snorted incredulously. "For the Seven. You keep defending her. Even when she carried out what the Mad King had wished to do to the capital's entire population."

It turned out to be too much. Jaime swore his hatred transpired out of his pores in the form of sweat. Suddenly, Winterfell's cold lost all effect. "Don't compare them. Cersei is not Aerys. "

"She slept with our cousin Lancel."

A growl broke out of his throat. Astonished, Jaime turned to Tyrion in complete incomprehension.

Instead of finding satisfaction, his brother pretended to be letting out a secret that didn't belong to him. For someone who was accusing him of having too much loyalty to his beloved sister, Tyrion certainly looked pained with what he was declaring, his fists clenched hard.

"She did it to manipulate him and get favors out of the boy. And not only did she sleep with him, but with any other man she knew would grant her political favors. All in exchange of her cunt. "

"Lancel?" That little shrimp of a man?

Tyrion just watched him. Jaime recognized the pity.

"When did it happen? For how long?"

"It doesn't matter." Tyrion winced. "I just want you to understand… that whatever you think you've left unresolved in King's Landing, dear brother… Cersei is not worth it."

Jaime wanted to hit him. He wanted to cause him the same kind of pain that was pouring all over his being. "Do you expect me to step aside, while your Queen tears our sister to shreds? Do you expect me to not feel horrified?"

"It's the same destiny she chose for us by not sending her army North. You know I'll do what I can to reason with her. Cersei is also my sister-"

"You didn't talk this way when I first arrived. Why give her away now?"

"Like I said before. I didn't think we were going to survive." Tyrion took a step toward him, but Jaime backed away. His brother sighed. "But here we are. And you look happy, Jaime. Happy, and indecisive. A bad combination."

"Only us is what matters." Cersei had repeated, countless times. Jaime had believed her. Always. Since the day they had left their mother's womb.

Euron Greyjoy's face appeared in his mind, smiling arrogantly in front of the throne. The bloody man had known Cersei's cunt would eventually be his. The Golden Army had practically been his guarantee.

Since when? Since when Cersei had let herself be touched by others, while Jaime had remained firm in his love for her?

"I dare to intervene now, so at least when you decide your fate… you'll do it with the truth, dear brother. At the end… it has to be your choice only. Not Cersei's."

Jaime's boots moved before the command was finished in his head. His side pushed Tyrion's frame in passing, and Jaime hissed through clenched teeth all his turmoil: "Do us both a favor, and deliver me from your vast wisdom. Even now, knowing this, I'll never kneel before your Dragon Queen."

He run down the wooden stairs, ignoring his brother's calls. He landed back into the patio and headed straight for the stables. Emotions blinded his judgment to such a degree, that he couldn't bear to be surrounded by these cursed northerners a moment more.

They were laughing behind his back, the Gods and Cersei alike.

The worst thing was一he deserved it.

For being a fucking idiot.

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Ser Brienne's report only served to leave Jon more restless than before.

"Are you sure? No sign of life at all?"

"No, Commander."

Ser Brienne could hardly be accused of lying, much less of inaccurate facts. Usually, the woman had good instincts. Jon sighed, sharing a look with Sansa before making a decision. "I will travel to Highpoint to verify the state of Whitehill House myself."

"You could send someone else. You don't have to put yourself at risk in a simple patrol."

"You said it yourself. It's a simple patrol. What is there to fear?"

Sansa did not appreciate her words being thrown back at her. Nothing new. Jon bit his inner cheek to disguise the smile wanting to rise at his victory.

Now quite sulky, his sister continued to read part of the parchment Jon had interrupted an hour earlier. When she spoke again, the tone was more distracted, half of her head already focused on other more imperative issues around the castle. "I suppose flying over the castle will be more effective."

Jon frowned from his place in the library window. In the distance, he saw Lord Tyrion walking with his brother in their direction. Seeing him, even at a long distance, gave away to an ephemeral sweet taste on Jon's buds. Not dissimilar to an apple's first bite.

"I'll go on horseback." He mumbled, tuning in a deep voice. He turned his gaze back to Sansa.

Her red-haired eyebrows were lifted with surprise.

"We'll need a small group of scouts." Jon turned to Ser Brienne. "I know it's been three days of hard scouting for you already, but in all honesty, I would feel safe having your instincts and your sword watching my back, Ser Brienne."

"Jon, you'll be marching south in four days."

"We'll be back in two." Sansa's stubbornness was always something to expect every time Jon made a decision. Accustomed to it by now, the Alpha didn't allow her challenging nature claw her way into him too deeply. His sister's objections were arrows he already knew how to avoid in an open field. "There may be survivors in the castle. And even if there aren't, we will have to deal with the bodies either way."

Sansa sighed, not exactly defeated.

"What say you, Ser Brienne?"

The woman showed obvious weariness. Ser Brienne sent a furtive glance in Sansa's direction, biting her lower lip. Not clear if to ask for her intervention, or to wait for her permission.

Jon softened his tone, feeling he was dealing with a wild horse. "I think my sister will not be in shortage of bodyguards right now."

"Jon is right." The redhead pacified her guardian with a simple smile. "I would feel better, knowing that you're travelling with him. I have Arya with me here, Brienne."

Jon's wish was granted with a forced inclination. Ser Brienne's entire body seemed to wobble along with the movement, clearly heavy with tiredness. Jon proceed to adjourned the meeting, knowing that he needed to prepare for the short travel. "There is nothing more to say. Retreat to rest, Ser Brienne. We leave before dawn."

"Aye, Commander." Ser Brienne did not smile, but she was firm in her obedience.

They made their way out of the library in hurried step. Jon, already lost in his head with the preparations ahead, turned to the left, in direction of the hallway that would led them to the open.

Instead, Jon came face to face with Lord Tyrion.

"Oh. Lady Brienne, Commander." Lord Tyrion gave the impression that he had tried to retreat back down the stoned steps, but the shortness of time had overtaken his small legs capacity. "I was hoping to use the library, but if Lady Sansa wants her privacy, I can go back another time."

Jon looked between the wooden door he had just closed and Lord Tyrion. "I'm sure my sister would have no objection to your company, Milord."

"No, no." Tyrion flapped one hand in the air. "It's not an urgent matter."

"If you insist."

"I insist."

"And I am retiring. If you excuse me, milords." Ser Brienne slided between Alpha and Omega with a louder voice than usual. "I have preparations to attend."

Tyrion flattened himself against the stone wall to give the woman the necessary space to keep walking. If Jon was not feeling so nervous, he would find the picture entertaining.

For a moment, Lord Tyrion seemed very interested in watching Ser Brienne's back disappear. "I should have kept my mouth shut."

Jon blinked.

When the Counselor faced him, his eyes got wide with whatever expression he was reading off Jon's face. "Oh, no, no. What I meant was..."

Jon frowned when the Half-Man trailed off his sentence.

Lord Tyrion's second option was to sigh heavily. "Well. In retrospect, I should've kept more than my mouth inaccessible."

Jon's whole body hardened immediately at the implications of that. An uneasy period of odd silence followed.

A grimace twisted Lord Tyrion's face. "I was only jesting. No offense was intended, Commander."

"I have preparations to attend too." Jon growled low. His Alpha grumbled with the notion of leaving. Jon ignored it, beginning to walk around Lord Tyrion in the same manner Lady Brienne had opted to make her escape. He saw the many tries the Omega's mouth did to produce coherent sounds一perhaps to stop Jon from walking away, or perhaps to keep jesting at Jon's expenses.

The hand holding his forearm was a surprise.

"It was terrible jesting, I emphasized."

Jon growled again. He felt Lord Tyrion's fingers pressing on his skin, insisting on having his attention. He was a like a child in some ways. Except his games were crueler.

Jon lowered his gaze to the other man's. He forced himself to show more humility, taking a deep breath to relax his muscles.

He nodded, accepting the apology.

Then he licked his lips, a terrible plan gathering form at frightening speed. "Considering the library is occupied, Milord, I can offer you another quiet place to read or write if you wish. It isn't far from the main Fortress. Although it would mean another walk in the opposite direction of this tower."

Jon's gloved hand curled up, holding Tyrion's forearm while he spoke. The shared connection caused an automatic response from their biologies. Lord Tyrion's natural essence penetrated Jon's nostrils and made him dizzy.

When Tyrion muttered, "It would be my honor, Commander," Jon just nodded. He released the Half-Man without further consideration. He went ahead to leave the Tower behind them as soon as possible.

The main Fortress, apart from hosting the Stark family for generations, had certain spaces that Jon had given to Sam to continue his residual studies from the Citadel. Guiding Lord Tyrion to one of those blind spots was easy.

He knocked on the door first, to make sure that Sam wasn't there, and was the first to enter to check, when he got no answer. The chamber, unlike the rest of the castle, was mostly wood, which helped feed the heat coming from the hot springs inside the main stone wall.

Sam had left lit candles all over the place. A sign that he hadn't been away long.

"Sam brought books from the Citadel that might interest you." Jon checked the titles spread out along the desk. "History books, mostly. Some of medicine."

"Old tales, I see." Tyrion already had a book in his hands when he turned around. "The Adventures of Ser Duncan The Tall. Sometimes simpler stories are better to feed a man's imagination."

Jon narrowed his eyes slightly at the title. He didn't find sense to its existence, knowing Sam's current focus on his studies.

Unsuspected, little did Lord Tyrion know of Sam's rigorous search, tracing bloodlines from ancient Houses to find forgotten Targaryen lineages. So far the fruits were scarce to none, but Sam was determined to find something一someone一meaningful.

Watching the Lion get comfortable at Sam's desk, Jon began to retreat.

"You should be more careful with these gifts, Jon Snow. You'll incite gossip."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "I would think that we have committed acts more worthy of gossip, than sharing a library."

With his eyes fixed on the first page of the old tale, the Omega smirked.

Jon cleared his throat. "I won't be at Winterfell for a couple of days. I will travel to Highpoint to search for survivors. Could you let the Queen know in my behalf? "

The smile vanished. "Does she still refuses to receive you in her chambers?"

Jon shrugged. "Her fury is long lasting."

"As infallible as your stubbornness, no doubt."

"Excuse me?" An incredulous snort came from Jon. "At least my war tactics are not being based on sheer desperation."

"I seem to recall a time not so long ago when the King of the North came to my call against his advisers, begging to mine the Queen's dragon glass. From my point of view, you looked tremendously desperate back then too."

"The circumstances were different."

"How exactly?"

"The War against the Dead put our survival at risk. My urgency was totally justified. This quarrel is about politics tricks. "

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "That's what the game of thrones is about, Jon."

"A game I am not a part of." Frustrated, the Alpha sighed. "If you're looking for a fight-"

"Not at all." Tyrion closed the book with a thump. "But it seems to be my fate to stir them today. All I want is a quiet place, a good book in my lap, and a goblet of wine to keep my big mouth busy enough."

"What do you want me say?" Jon returned to the Omega's vicinity with cautious steps.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "I guess what I'm getting at... it's a confirmation that you remain loyal to our Queen."

"I am."

The Lion's eyes shone. "So, why did you refuse Oberyn Martell's terms?"

Jon closed his eyes, an impatient noise rising in his throat.

"You have opened a gap between Daenerys and yourself with this decision! You must understand my concern."

"I've done enough already." Jon growled. He walked back to the Omega, placing his hands around the desk to hover over him. "I have bent the knee before her. I am sending my people to die for her, in a war that does not concern them. She cannot ask more of me."

The severity of the mercy he witnessed in the Lannister's face left him briefly confused. Here they were again. Despite his best attempts of the contrary, Jon was here again, breathing a scent he shouldn't bask in, and feeling a fire in his gut that had only led him to grave mistakes.

"I believe in Daenerys. Don't question it again," he murmured.

"What if it's her, the one who doubts you?" Tyrion twisted his body to one side to set the book on the desk. "It was a test. You know it was. And you deliberately decided to fail it. You could have accepted Dorne's terms and wait for the war to decide the rest. "

Jon had failed every test since he was born, having Rhaegar Targaryen's blood running through his veins. "Her anger will abate. Dany can be emotional ridden, but she usually reconsiders when she is given her space."

"Maybe before. But now… Things have changed within her."

Jon sighed. Ser Jorah Mormont's absence had certainly broken something inside Dany. Even so, Jon doubted that it would break her will. "I'll talk to her when I get back."

"Or better yet. Don't. Your face could unleash her fury again. Wait until you get to Dragonstone; the flight south will improve her spirits."

"What's wrong with my face?"

When Lord Tyrion stretched his face towards him, leaving his neck exposed, he did it with a wicked smile. "Absolutely nothing. That's the problem. Any woman would want to tear your eyes from your face just to feel secure in her own beauty."

There was little Jon could say about it. He cleared his throat, letting the joke live its course.

Tyrion had other ideas, raising his right hand to stop Jon from retreating. It landed near his collarbone, holding on to the laces of Jon's jerkin. "That was my poor attempt at flirting." His nose twisted with self-criticism. "Another misfire, apparently. Today has been the best day for them."


Certainly his appearance had been a constant source of cruel jesting among his brothers at the Watch. His appearance had never symbolized anything positive in his eyes, just another armor to protect against the insults of others.

Being a victim of the opposite一of being appreciated, instead of being rejected, filled him with a singular sensation.

He did not give time for an adverse reaction. He lifted Tyrion's chin with his gloved fingers, caressing his beard and then pressing at the half-man's jaw to demand access.

They kissed as if they had waited to break fast of five mornings. The Omega fastened on his neck, taking advantage of his seated position. Jon remained crouched, encompassing him with his arms. They moaned and growled in unison.

Jon inhaled the salt of the sea off the Lannister's neck. He wondered if some previous lover had ever confessed to the Omega his center shared the same flavor.

"Secure the door." Tyrion bit the cartilage in his ear, leaving a trail of wet kisses down his cheekbone. "I want to feel you in my mouth."

Jon lost stability of his knees for a moment. His cock reacted to the shamelessness, hardening as easily as a wolf salivated at the smell of raw meat.

Not only did he close the door of the chamber, he secured it with a wooden bar.

After that, they did not engage in complex activities such as thinking. Their bodies repeated the same dance of last time, their hands struggling to dominate一they were limited on time and limited on opportunities一Tyrion swallowed back his groans when he saw Jon kneel in front of him, sinking his face into his lap, exploring his covered center.

Through the breeches' material, Jon detected everything. The flavor. The smell. The pulse of their hearts.

"Jon." The small palms combed at the curls of his temples. "Jon, come up here, for the Seven Hells. "

Jon felt his passion revive at the husky tone.

They kissed again.

Their tongues were reunited with familiarity. Their faces twisted in those imperfect arches that used to involve any mouth-to-mouth connection. Jon appreciated the rawness of the act. He liked the honesty with which their bodies continued to be craved by the other.

Ruled by conviction of not conceiving bastard children, all his life Jon had done his best to keep his biological impulses under control一Ygritte and Daenerys being the scarce exceptions. He could count on one hand the times physical desire had outlived his principles, and only because strong feelings had been involved.

With Tyrion Lannister, breaking rules was becoming easy. Although reluctantly, Jon was allowing to being dragged down to another risky political position.

When his cock was uncovered in the stillness of the chamber, the Alpha leaned on the desk surface, waiting.

Tyrion's fingers knew what to do, massaging his cock in preparation, from the base to the tip, before tasting the head with his own mouth. Jon fought against the natural urge to close his eyes. He did not wish to miss a single thing.

The first contact was wet heat and friction.

Tyrion started slowly. Or he intended. Soon both were dragged to an accelerated pace, affected by the high possibility of being interrupted. Jon stroked Tyrion's nape, gently, over and over again, feeling his entire body melt like snow exposed to the sun. His hips rippled with natural tempo, and Tyrion clung to Jon's waist with his freed hand.

Jon made a strangled sound.

There was no way to pretend this was not happening.

Pleasure escalated quickly all over his body.

Tyrion blindly kissed Jon's hip, when he needed to catch his breath. His fingers continued to stimulate him, quite stubborn, and Jon ended up aiding him, removing his glove and replacing Tyrion's with his own. Abruptly, he pushed the Omega back to the chair, forcing them to look at each other's eyes, whilst he yanked at his cock furiously.

His lover's red face rose to the challenge. Jon looked at the swollen lips intently. A sheet of moisture covered the Omega's face and his eyes appeared clouded by a dense fog. Jon remembered that same face, twisting during their last rutting. He remembered the colorful curses.

He remembered the feeling of fucking the Lannister lion to the last inch.

With a grunt, his seed was expulse, tainting the floor.

"Shit." Jon gasped, right at the end, limbs tense with the intense release. -Not enough. Still not enough.

"Come here." Tyrion pulled at Jon's side, propelling the taller man to fall against him. The Omega kissed him, lazy but with warmth, briefly circling Jon's face with his hands. He then allowed the Alpha's head to settle on his shoulder.

Jon sighed, feeling Tyrion's own short breath graze his cheek.

"Seven Gods would not be enough."

Jon grunted.

His knees began to resent the position, but he did not feel ready to let go. "What do you mean?" His voice vibrated against the leather. When a response wasn't forthcoming, he raised his head.

Eyes closed, Tyrion indicated to be thinking out loud. "They could be a hundred of them, and even then… Can't say I would be particularly fearful of their wrath."

"Mm." Jon frowned.

Tyrion gave a lopsided smile. "Eloquent as always." Before Jon tried to get up, a hand grabbed his chin. "If you want to fuck me again, boy, you only have to say it. Do not torture yourself in vain, thinking that I will slap your pretty face like a scandalous maid. "

Jon swallowed hard. He found his inner Alfa definitely interested, but he suffered to produce a verbal response. Already, Tyrion had his right hand sliding down the Alpha's stomach, touching the knot that had never entirely diminished. His cock wasn't declining either either, despite his recent climax.

"How do you want me? On my knees? Or perhaps, you'd like me to mount you again?"


Jon growled. "Don't talk like that."

All at once, he disentangling himself from the Councillor. He hurried to re-tie his breeches, ignoring the uncomfortable state of his arousal.

"Don't talk like what? Like we aren't two people seeking a pleasant distraction, before marching to war? "

"It's… I don't know." Jon hated his tongue for getting stuck. He ran a hand down his face, wiping sweat. "Your tone. This isn't a game. Stop making jokes about matters that don't merit it. "

"I'm not joking." Tyrion changed his face to something more severe, apparently infected by the same discomfort. "We're fucking, are we not? Or do you prefer to call it something else? "

"Tell me what you meant." Jon turned to face him. "Before."

The Dwarf's mouth turned into a pout.

Jon exhaled, patience to the limit. He reprised the same path that had already taken him directly to the Omega. He settled at his feet. The second time, he would kneel in front of a lover. "You don't have to fear the Gods. Or me. "

"Feeling fear is the smartest thing you can do, Jon Snow. That way you realize that you are only a man. And men die. "

Jon could not help it. His smile was spontaneous. "Not in my case."

Another set of emotions crossed the Lannister features. Exasperation, humor. "Let's not to put that to the test again so quickly." Rubbing his temple, it was the Half-Man's turn to sigh. "I don't know. It's pretty unusual. "

"What is?"

"Everything." Tyrion enunciated slowly. "Jon, you must feel it."

Jon knew exactly what he was referring to. "It has always been there. Compatibilities don't fade just because we didn't recognize ours when we first met. "

"Some of them can. They usually mature with time and lose their effect."

"According to whom? Compatibilities between Alpha and Omega are scarce. They're not so easy to decipher. "

"I've seen it happen." Grave, the lion seemed to melt with the shadows for a moment. "There is little room for compatibilities when marriage alliances are involved to secure Houses, Jon."

"And in equal measure a compatibility had been used to seal century old-enemies into peace treaties. We can be hypocrites about it, but the truth is we don't know for sure."

Tyrion seemed to squirm around the chair. "What solution do you offer, then? This scenario is far from convenient."

Jon licked his lips, hesitant. He still did not know exactly what motivated Lord Tyrion一what this bond meant to him exactly.

"There's not much we can do right now. Not until the war is over. "

"If we survive, that is."

Jon grimaced. "You won't be present on the battlefield. There's no reason you should expect to die. "

Tyrion snorted, resting his arms around the chair. "There are other ways to die in a war. With my sister involved, one can expect anything. Her hatred for me has no limits. Must be worse now, with Jaime deciding to join our side. In her eyes, I stole his favorite tricket, and she's a vengeful woman. And let's not forget about our Queen. Daenerys has already put my allegiance in doubt. Quite publicly. Finding out I'm sucking her former lover's cock won't do me any favors. "

"And you call me naive," Jon hissed, sitting on the edge of the desk. "Any feelings between us no longer hold priority, considering how easily she wanted to offer me to Oberyn Martell. She may have been informed by now where exactly you spent the night after the feast. At the least, she suspects us. At the most, she was seeking to punish me. In either of those cases, she acted out of childness, not love. A childness she eventually has to grow out of if she wants to rule."

The Councillor's eyes widened with the revelation. "If that is true, she was testing me as well."

Jon let the silence be sufficient confirmation.

"Stopping now is the best course of action, then."

Even though Jon had expected it, the conclusion drew a growl from his chest. "We are not betraying her if we both want her to win this War."

"We are betraying her if Daenerys considers it so! It's obvious she has residual feelings for you if she was that invested in testing your loyalty. She doesn't need this kind of distractions. Not when she's going after Cersei. She'll have enough mind games as it is."

-"I couldn't love him the way he wanted. Not the way I love you." Jon briefly closed his eyes. "Daenerys doesn't love me."

Jon knew very well Dany's devotion towards the Iron Throne did not leave room for other rivals, sentimental wise, or of any other kind. She had made it clear at the Crypts and later on in the aftermath of their confrontation. Jon didn't resent her for it. He still believed she could do more good to the Seven Kingdoms that Queen Cersei.

Daenerys had a good heart. He had seen it. He had felt it, thumping against his own.

But she had to respect his limits. There wasn't much else he could claim for himself.

"Where did you go, just now?" A soft touch landed on his foreman.

Tyrion's confused expression felt like a push to tell the truth. Jon wanted to. He yearned to share the burden with someone else, apart from Sam…

But he had done enough stupid things in one day. -Do not involve him. It will be better for him.

Beyond unconventional Compatibilities, Jon was a man of honor first. Of duty.

So he pushed himself away from the desk. "I will keep my distance as you have requested, my Lord. You are in the right, we should be more cautious."

Being his idea, little objection could leave the Lion's mouth. The Omega looked caught off guard at his change of heart, but he recovered fast. Always an adaptable man. "I wish you an uneventful trip, Commander Snow. I will inform the Queen of your return just as you had asked."

Jon removed the wooden bar that he had placed across the door to secure it. He glanced over his shoulder one last time.

Lord Tyrion demonstrated he didn't know what to do with his hands without a book to occupy them. Jon watched his fingers twist together, small but elegant. Both shared a long last look.

Just as it had happened with Dany, Jon felt an intangible distance pushing them on opposite sides.

Cold filled him, without yet marching outside.

He finally nodded at farewell, and left the chamber.

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End of Part iii.

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NoA: Next chapter, Brienne and Jon bond over their stupid Lannister boyfriends!

Also, not a Sansa fan. Don't expect much exposition about her.