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Be Who You're Meant to Be

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He wakes drenched in a cold sweat as he once again has the same nightmare that he’s been plagued with for nearly a week.

He feels the body next to him begin to move and soon a pair of arms wrap themselves around his torso.

“Is it the same dream?” the angelic voice asks.

“Aye, the same,” he admits, running his hand through his dark curls.

“Maybe you should…” she starts.

“No, I’ve told you I'm not leaving you, especially now,” he says firmly, turning his body to look into her eyes.

The beautiful violet orbs staring into his own are full of uneasiness. They scream of the terror of the possibility of being separated, of losing each other. But there is also a hint of determination and fire that marks their shared heritage and blood.

“They’re your brothers,” she reminds him.

“And you’re my wife,” he says raising a hand to softly caress her cheek. “My duty, my place is by your side.”

“But if they truly are in danger, you have the opportunity to save them, she argues.

“It’s just a dream, love,” he counters, turning his body away to avoid her gaze. She however with a single tug makes him once again behold her.

“We both know it’s more than just a dream,” she says with a tenderness that makes his heart clench.

He knows she’s right and he hates that fact.

His brothers are in danger, about to be betrayed by the treacherous ward whom he had the misfortune of growing up with. He never trusted that imbecile, hating how arrogant he was and how he took every opportunity to humiliate him.

You’re just the bastard.

The memory causes his hands to clench, his way of suppressing the anger, of extinguishing the fire building within. But that seems almost unnecessary as a simple stroke of her gentle fingers washes it all away.

“You’re not a bastard,” she asserts, somehow knowing the exact thoughts going through his mind. “Your Uncle may have believed it necessary to raise you as such to keep you safe but you know the truth. You know who you truly are.”

“I do,” acknowledges with a smile.

“Then leave that bastard armor behind and be the King you were meant to be.”

 

“Jon?” a voice draws him out of his memory. He looks away from the flames and turns to find Bran at his doorstep smiling knowingly from his chair.

He strides towards his brother and pushes him into the room before promptly shutting the door behind them.

“You were thinking of her,” Bran states, not even bothering to disguise the phrase as a question.

“Aye but I assume your all-seeing self knew that,” he says with a chuckle.

“No, your lovelorn face spoke volumes, there was no need to look anywhere else,” his brother responds, showing as much sympathy as he can through the Three-Eyed Raven façade.

He feels his heart clench at the mention of his longing for her.

“How is she?” he needs to ask.

“Excited, anxious. She should be arriving at Dragonstone any day now and she’s eager to start looking for you,” Bran answers.

Two whines are heard at the door and he quickly moves to open it and allows the two direwolves into the room.

Ghost stays at his side while Summer makes his way to Bran before laying and placing his head upon his master's lap.

A soft smile forms on Bran’s face as he rubs the top of his direwolf’s head.

Summer is his brother’s humanity. The direwolf is what keeps him from only being the Three-Eyed Raven and reminds him that he is also Brandon Stark. And every time he sees that small smile he’s glad he managed to save the direwolf in that cave.

“All the Lords have arrived,” Bran reveals.

“And now all the cowards show up,” he grumbles and once again Bran smiles.

“Well not everyone can be as brave as Jon Snow,” Bran teases and he grimaces.

“You know I hate that name.”

“Which one? Jon or Snow?”

“Snow. She was right I need to stop being a bastard and start being who I’m meant to be,” he says.

“Are you going to tell them?” Bran asks.

“I thought you knew everything?” he teases.

“I see everything, past and present, the future tends to change, it's blurry. I also try to not look into a person’s mind, I learned my lesson when it came to that,” his brother answers sadly.

Another loss beyond the wall.

They had lost Hodor during their escape from the cave that had housed the remaining Children of the Forest and the previous Three-Eyed Raven. He can still remember former Lord Commander’s final words to him.

“Go and take it,” the man says as one of the Children hands him their ancestral blade. “Give it to her and make sure to never forsake each other.”

“We won’t I swear,” he vowed and he saw the man that was once Brynden Rivers give him a small smile before they were invaded.

After they escaped and Bran came to, he revealed what he had done to the past self of Hodor, since then he had been much more careful while in his visions.

“I'm not sure what to do,” he admits. “I don’t trust Littlefinger and his claws are so deep into Sansa that I don’t think I can trust her either.”

He runs his fingers through his hair which he has yet to tie back frustrated to be surrounded by vipers in the castle he grew up in.

“And you are right to be suspicious of them both,” Bran concedes.

“What should I do Bran? You’ve told me what is likely to occur when all of us gather. How am I supposed to accept that power if I'm not who they believe I am? How am I supposed to deny who I am when in doing so I deny her?” he pleads for some sort of guidance.

“I don’t know Jon, but if you are to become the King, it is time to start making these decisions yourself.”

Chapter Text

Years ago....

 

Her lips are against his, their tongues fighting for dominance. His fingers running through her hair, hers slightly pulling on his curls. She climbs on top of him never breaking their kiss and he feels her hips rocking against his own.

He moans into her mouth as he lowers his hands down her back and to her hips. He grabs onto her, applying more pressure into her movements, guiding her without pressing.

His hips buck and he swallows her own moan as he thrusts against her, matching her movements with his own.

She pulls away suddenly and he opens his eyes panting. She’s beautiful. Her eyes a beautiful shade of violet, her pale skin soft and warm, her hair silver like moonbeams.

She looks directly into his eyes as she once again begins to move. Just as he’s about to let pleasure engulf him he hears a bark.

He wakes to small paws scratching him and a little tongue licking his face.

“Ghost,” he groans, fighting off the little beast's ‘attack’. “Why did you have to wake me?”

The little runt wags his tail, his red eyes staring into his own. He pets the white furball, giving him the attention he craves. Only a sennight and he’s more than attached to the albino runt.

As he moves to rise, he feels the mess he’s made in his trousers and groans in frustration. He stands and goes to the water basin to clean himself off.

“I dreamt of her again, boy. The beautiful girl with silver hair and violet eyes,” he confesses to his companion as he dresses to start his day and get his meal before Lady Stark told the kitchens otherwise. The only response he gets is a tilt of the head and a blank look from the pup.

He sneaks out of his room, only the servants up at this hour. The kitchens are busy, getting the food for the Lord’s family ready even before they wake. He finds a plate with food, having been set aside by one of the cooks and he takes it with him. Outside he feels the summer chill as the wind blows and Ghost runs off to get his business done.

He thinks of her, wondering who she is and where she could be. He dreams of a future with her, of making her his wife, having a family together. But with a shake of his head, he rids himself of those impossible thoughts.

Impossible because he is a bastard.

A bastard should never want anything especially love and a family. He should be grateful for being born to a Lord who had pity on him and took him in. Grateful for whatever scraps of affection and belongings his father gave him.

As a bastard, he could never have anything as beautiful as her.

He didn’t belong here, he didn’t belong anywhere or with anyone. The only place someone like him should be is at the Wall, cleansing his father from the stain in his honor. That’s why today he’ll tell Lord Stark his decision to go to the Wall.

A cawing from a raven takes him out of his brooding. He sees the bird standing at the entrance of the Stark crypts. Right next to it Ghost sits seeming to be waiting for him.

“Ghost?”

The raven gives another caw and Ghost turns towards the entrance of the crypts and squeezes through the metal bars.

“Ghost!” he yells and runs after his direwolf. He spares a glance at the raven as he gets to the gate and it surprisingly stares at him, tilting its head. He looks around making sure no one sees him and opens the gate. As soon as the gate opens the raven flies down into the crypt.

He chases both animals down the steps, careful not slip nor disturb anything. As he reaches the ground flashes of his nightmares pass through his mind.

You’re not a Stark! Get out!

He hears the voices of the Kings of Winter and the Lords of Winterfell chant these words as he treads onward.

He finds the furball and the raven at the base of one of the statues.

“Ghost we shouldn’t be down here,” he chastises the direwolf.

The pup just wags his tail and looks at the statue. The raven flies on top of it and caws once again. He turns to look and is surprised to see who's statue he stands in front of.

“Aunt Lyanna?” he questions.

The raven caws once again, pecking at the statue.

“Stop that,” he swats at the bird. When his hand lands on the statue’s head everything around him changes and he is no longer in the crypts.

He’s in a forest, surrounded by trees and a creek running nearby. He sees a knight trying his best to take off mismatched pieces of armor. The pieces that he takes off he throws into the creek. He hears hoofbeats in the distance and the knight must have as well for his movements become even more desperate.

When the knight removes his helmet he realizes that it’s not a man but a young woman. A young woman who resembles his little sister.

“Aunt Lyanna?”

The horses come closer and he sees a man with silver hair climb off one of them.

Rhaegar Targaryen.

He feels anger as he assumes this is when he kidnaps his aunt. But the opposite happens.

They begin speaking and he watches as his aunt blushes at whatever the prince says. If he’s to judge anything she appears to be falling in love with the prince.

Everything changes again and he watches as the prince gives her a crown of winter roses. Followed by his aunt giving a letter to another young woman.

It changes again and he’s in another wood. There he sees both his aunt and the prince with the Kingsguard and a tanned skin woman standing witness.

“Father, smith, warrior, mother, maiden, crone, stranger I am his and he is mine. From this day till the end of my days.”

They’re getting married! His aunt married Rhaegar Targaryen. But everyone knew Rhaegar kidnapped and rapped his aunt. None of this makes sense.

He watches as the tanned skinned woman approaches the newlyweds. She places a kiss upon Rhaegar's lips before hugging his aunt and kissing her as well.

That must be Elia Martell.

Next, he sees what he assumes is the Iron Throne and Robert Baratheon standing before it. He sees three mutilated bodies being presented to him and his joy at it.

Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon.

The scene changes again and he finds himself in a room, the smell of winter roses and blood filling his nose. His aunt is in a bed drenched with blood and a man is kneeling next to her holding her hand.

“Ned. Ned you have to protect him, Robert will kill him like he killed Rhaegar. Or how Tywin’s monsters killed Elia and the children,” she sounds near hysteric.

Ned. It’s his father.

Lya, you’ll be fine,” his father tries to comfort her.

Please protect him, Ned. Please protect my boy,” she begs.

Suddenly a woman enters the room carrying a crying babe. She hands the babe to his aunt and she weeps as she holds the babe close to her.

I love you my darling, remember that I always loved you and so did your father and Elia. I'm so sorry my love,” she sobs, gently handing the babe to his father.

Ned his name is Jaehaerys. Promise me you’ll protect him,” she begs.

I promise Lya,” his uncle vows and they both watch as his aunt dies.

He wipes his tears as the scene changes again and his father is holding the small babe in his arms. Another man is with him, one he doesn’t know.

What are you going to do Ned?” the man asks.

I’ll claim him as mine. To the realm, he will be Jon Snow, my bastard son.”

He feels like he's been punched in the gut. He can’t breathe as he watches his father… no his uncle ride into the distance with a babe and his sister’s body in tow.

He’s back in the crypts, tears running down his face. He looks up at the statue once again now knowing who exactly he’s looking at.

“Mother.”

Chapter Text

He stands in front of the statue of the man he had considered his father for many years. The last time he had been down in these crypts the truth had been revealed to him. He remembers the grievances, the yelling, the tears. It had hurt more than anything he had known at that point in his life to see the man he had believed to be the most honorable man in the world try to justify the lies and maltreatment he had gone through because of his deceit. He doesn’t regret what was said nor the actions that followed.

But now looking back, what he does lament is that it had been the last time he saw Ned Stark alive.

He looks around him and sees his brother’s tomb, where no bones truly lie, his body having been beheaded and thrown into the river by the Frey’s and Bolton’s. The first King in the North since Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon Targaryen. The King who was meant to free the North and avenge the death of his father. The King in the North, the King of the Trident…

The King Who Lost the North.

His brother had made mistakes, just as Ned Stark had made down south. Mistakes that he could not afford to make. Honor, or lack thereof, had been their downfall. Ned Stark had been too honorable and Robb had forgotten what honor was when he went back on his word and turned his allies into enemies.

Some say it had been love that got Robb killed. Even Sansa had revealed her belief that their brother had lost because he had been a lovesick fool. To her and to many, love or more specifically a woman had been his weakness as it had been for many men throughout history.

But he knew better than that.

Love was not a flaw; it was an asset. Passion and love motivated you more than honor, more than glory, more than duty. It kept you going, keeping you on the correct path, stopped you from making mistakes that may cause more harm than good. And the woman in his life was everything others weren’t.

He will never forget his Great Uncle Aemon’s words as they prepared to cross the Wall.

“What is honor compared to a woman’s love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son? We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory and our great tragedy.”

He was right. It was our great glory and he would make sure he made it his strongest asset, especially when the truth was revealed.

The lords have all gathered in the Great Hall and, if Bran is right, will name him King in the North, just as they named Robb. When they discover who he is and who he’s married to, they will accuse him of being the same.

He can’t and won’t make the same mistakes these two men had. He’ll be different. He’ll be better.

He hears footsteps approaching and turns to see Sansa walking towards him.

“The Lords are waiting. Bran is already in the Hall,” she informs him, and he gives her a nod of understanding in return.

Together they walk out of the crypts and enter the Great Hall. He watches as all the Lords rise in respect as they enter and sit as soon as he takes the seat once held by Ned Stark. Bran is at his right and while Sansa sits on his left. Both Ghost and Summer lay at their feet, tense and awaiting any sign to defend their masters.

Immediately the arguments begin. Lords demanding their leave. Lords quarreling with the Freefolk. With each passing moment, the feuds become louder and loud. He closes his eyes and feels his blood begin to boil, his dragon threatening to come out and release its fire against these squabbling lords. Below him Ghost begins to growl, ready to attach whomever he orders.

“Enough!” he bellows, obtaining everyone’s attention. “We are all allies here and this bickering needs to end. We have an enemy up North, beyond the Wall, ready to come and kill us all. Unless we all band together and put this pettiness aside we will all fall to them.”

Instead of calming the talks everyone once again begins chattering amongst themselves. Before he can once again get their attention, he watches as Lyanna Mormont stands and seizes everyone’s attention.

“Your son was butchered in the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly, but you refused the call,” the young Lady of Bear Island begins to denounce each and every Lord who turned their back on them. “Not even as he brought home the trueborn children of Ned Stark did you all come to Jon Snow’s aide. But House Mormont did. And we saw this man fight for the North in a way no one else in this room dared to do,” Lyanna turns to look at him. “He may be a bastard but he proved himself to be more Northern than any of you. We named a Stark king once and although he may not have the name, Stark blood runs through his veins. And he is my King from this day to his last day,” she announces proudly before taking a seat.

One by one the lords fall to their knees and declare him their King. In the corner of his eye, he can see the chagrin on Sansa’s face and the scheming on Little Finger’s. He turns to look at Bran and he nods agreeing with his plan.

He stands to silence them all.

“I thank you for this honor my Lords, especially you Lady Mormont,” he says. “However, before I can receive this privilege there are some things that need to be said. Lord Baelish, please step forward,” he announces, and all eyes turn to the catalyst of all the wars in the past years. The man is surprised and slowly makes his way towards the center of the room.

“Now my Lords, we all know the story of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen,” he begins, and grumbles are immediately heard throughout the Hall as they curse and spat at his father’s name. “How the Dragon Prince kidnapped and raped her,” he hears the sounds of agreement. “Well my Lords, before I left Winterfell Ned Stark confessed to me it was all a lie.”

The room once again erupts, and he waits as the rowdy men quiet down before continuing.

“It was all a lie for Lyanna Stark was not kidnapped she left willingly and married the prince in a ceremony where even Elia Martell was present,” he announces, and the lords once again begin an uproar. He slams his fist against the table demanding their attention. “I know its shocking, I know how many Northern men died during that war. How my grandfather and uncle died at the hands of the Mad King because of this,” he pauses for a moment, looking around the room at all the Lords. “Both Lyanna and Rhaegar were at fault, aye. However, there is a bigger culprit in all this.”

Whispers begin to run but he presses on.

“Before she left with the Prince, Lyanna penned a letter, one where she explained everything to her brother Brandon and her father. She handed this letter to Lysa Tully,” the men of the Vale immediately begin to shift. “With orders to deliver it to her brother. However, under instructions from the then young lord of the Fingers she burned it and instead told Brandon Stark his sister had been kidnapped, with the sole purpose of getting him killed, which then led to my grandfather Rickard Stark being burned alive and starting Robert’s Rebellion,” he reveals and Baelish pales. Glares are directed at the Protector of the Vale immediately and rage grows in the room. “If that weren’t enough, he later helped Lysa Arryn poison her husband, Jon Arryn, blaming the Lannister’s and starting the wars that have plagued this land for the past couple of years. He betrayed Ned Stark in Kings Landing, leading to his execution, killed Lysa Arryn to gain the Vale and then sold Sansa to the Boltons to attempt to gain the North.”

The room is in an uproar, everyone demanding the head of the Lord. He gestures towards two guards who immediately seize Littlefinger.

“Jon!” Sansa exclaims but he ignores her as he makes his way towards the Lord.

He looks directly into the man’s eyes knowing that if it weren’t for him, his life would have been different, many people would still be alive.

“Ned Stark taught us that the man who passes the sentence must swing the sword,” he says to the man before addressing the Lords. “But I must confess that I can not be an impartial judge. The reason being that this man has wronged me more than anyone else in this room. With his actions years ago he stole something substantial from me,” he pauses and sees the questioning looks. “My birthright. For you see I have never been a bastard nor a son of Ned Stark,” grumbling begins but he presses on. “Stark blood does run through my veins but not from my father but rather my mother,” realization begins to form on some of the Lords’ faces.

“My name, the name bestowed upon me by my dying mother as she handed me to her brother begging for protection from the Usurper that murdered her husband, is Jaehaerys Targaryen,” the room goes silent as it sinks in. “I am the heir to the Iron Throne, the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, one of which you have proclaimed me king of. So now knowing who I am, do you still offer me the rule of this kingdom?”

There’s a moment of silence and one by one the Lords yell out their agreement, once again chanting their support.

“King of the North! King of the Seven! The White Wolf! The Hidden Dragon!”

He knows this is only temporary, that soon demands and questions will begin to be asked. But for now, he has their support and with it, he will enact justice to the one responsible for the chaos in his realm. As the chants continue he looks down at Lord Baelish who is begging for his life. But no amount of this will change his mind. He is going to rid himself of a snake before he has the opportunity to strike against him and those he cares about more than he already has.

“And now that the North has spoken, Lord Baelish, I will swing my sword with the name your actions stole from me. I, Jaehaerys Targaryen, the rightful heir of the Iron Throne sentence you to die.”

He pulls out his Valayrian steel sword, finally showing the identity of his blade. He hears gasps as the ruby and twin dragons hilt let those in the room know what blade it is. As the black hues of the blade reflect the light, he lifts the blade and Blackfyre takes the first blood of justice and reconquest of the Seven Kingdoms.

Chapter Text

It's only been a fortnight since he was declared King by the Northern Lords and he feels like every single one has summoned their daughters or granddaughters in an attempt to seduce him. More than once has he sent Davos into his room ahead of him and the man has escorted a lady from inside.

Now he’s locked himself inside of his quarters, refusing to leave, and instead sits before the hearth and stares into the flames.

Flames.

They remind him of her. The Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, his beloved whom he yearns for more each passing day. She landed on Dragonstone a few days ago, Bran told him as much. It is taking all his self-control not to head south and meet with her. But he knows soon he will be able to. And soon he’ll see another person, one he has yet to meet.

The flames move and he recalls another person.

Melisandre.

His hand makes its way to his heart and even though his clothes he can feel it. The unhealed wound, the puckered marred flesh, the pain constantly felt with each beat of his resuscitated heart. The flames entrance him and the room somehow begins to darken.

He can’t breathe, he desperately gasps for breath as he’s transported to a memory.

He’s in Castle Black, having returned from beyond the Wall with his brother and the Freefolk he had befriended. Something or someone had drawn him out into the cold and dark night.

The cold steel pierces his flesh, over and over. His blood oozes out coating the newly fallen snow. He stares up at the night sky as his life seeps away. His last thought was her and the dragon roar he hears in his mind.

He feels someone shaking him and some muddled words come through.

“That’s it lad, come out of it. Breathe,” the voice soothes and something tells him to listen to the voice.

His eyesight begins to clear and he makes out the face of Ser Davos.

“There you are. Welcome back, your Grace,” the man says with a sad smile. “Lost you there for a moment.”

“D…Davos?” he asks gasping for air.

“Aye,” his advisor confirms.

“C…Castle Black…The knives…” he tries to explain.

“I know lad but you need to breathe. Think about that wife of yours. Remember the good moments,” Davos tells him.

He closes his eyes imagining Dany's face, their moments together, their marriage, their first kiss, their first time. He takes deep settling breaths and finally feels his heart slow and the pain reduces to a tolerable throb.

“Thank you Ser Davos,” he says to the older man once he gathers himself and receives a nod of understanding. “Has anyone tried to enter?”

“We had a few wandering ladies. Your sister has also tried to get an audience with you,” Davos informs him.

He groans. He doesn’t want an audience with Sansa. He’s still wary of her and her scheming. He’s also realized how her attitude towards him changed as soon as his identity was revealed.

“You’re going to have to talk with her, your Grace,” Davos tells him.

“I know but not yet. I'm afraid she might try something. She’s too much like Littlefinger and Cersei according to Bran and I can’t risk her trying anything,” he explains.

There’s a knock at the door and after bidding enter, the Maester comes into the room seeming nervous.

“Y…your Grace,” he stutters with a bow. “Th...There's a meeting in the Great Hall and all the Lords are attending.”

He stands his chair screeching across the floor, hands slamming against the table.

“I called no such meeting,” he growls.

“No Your Grace, Lady Sansa did,” the Maester responds.

“And do you have any idea why she called for this?” he asks and watches as the Maester fidgets and hesitates to speak. “Well?”

“I'm not entirely sure, Your Grace. However, I suspect it might have to do with the raven that arrived from Dragonstone. It was addressed to you and Lady Sansa told me she would bring it to you,” the Maester reveals.

Dragonstone… Dany…

He doesn’t hesitate for another moment as he rushes towards the Great Hall. He hears Ser Davos attempting to keep up with him but doesn’t slow.

He bursts through the door and finds all the Lords arguing and the words “Dragon Queen” and “Foreign Whore" being hurled around, along with others of “War" and “Rightful King".

Sansa is sitting in the Lord’s Chair, a scroll in her hand, looking smug.

Two weeks. That’s all it took, sister.

He walks through the crowd and they all hush as they notice his presence. He glares at his sister as he makes his way to the main table.

“When I receive a raven, I expect to receive them,” he keeps his voice calm.

“You were indisposed and what this message contained is urgent,” she argues, holding the scroll up as he snatches it from her hand.

Before he can even begin to read it, Sansa

“In that letter, she claims herself the Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and demands we bend the knee under the threat of three full-grown dragons!”

He smiles at her attempt to induce panic.

“Well it is not just the dragons she also has armies of Unsullied and Dothraki screamers,” he says with a chuckle while reading the letter.

“We should be preparing to go to war with her! She is trying to steal your birthright and make the North bend to her will!” she exclaims and he hears lords voicing their agreements.

“The only war we’ll be waging is against the dead,” he announces turning to look at all the Lords. “None of you have seen the army of the dead. But I have, the Freefolk have, my brother Brandon and Lady Meera Reed have. We know what danger we are in. How imminent the threat is.”

This silences them for a moment and he presses on.

“I know it’s hard to believe, if it weren’t for what I’ve seen and for my time beyond the wall I wouldn’t believe it either. But my Lords we can’t defeat the dead on our own. We’re outnumbered. Horribly so. We need allies,” he declares, holding up the scroll. “This is the opportunity we have been presented. This raven was written by the Queen herself. What she states is true only a King can treat with a Queen. So I will go to Dragonstone and convince her to pledge her armies and her dragons to our cause.”

All the Lords start protesting and he catches a glimpse of glee in Sansa's eyes before she covers it and stands to speak.

“What about her claim? She is trying to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. The North is one of those Kingdoms and they don’t belong to her they belong to you.”

“Aye and that is something that will be discussed between her and me,” he answers.

“Winter is here my King,” the voice of Lyanna Mormont draws his attention away from Sansa. “And we need the King of the North here in the North.”

“You are right, Lady Mormont, winter is here and none of us are prepared for it. There is a shortage of food, our glasshouses have been destroyed and our numbers have diminished more than ever. This might be one of the longest winters in history and we’ll need food. Queen Daenerys has control of cities in Essos and she can help us obtain fair trades and food for the foreseeable future,” he argues.

“What about the Reach? They could provide food without having to treat with the Dragon Queen?” someone calls out.

“The Reach has pledged itself to Daenerys Targaryen as has Dorne,” Bran says in response.

The talking begins again and he watches as the realization of their dire situation begins to hit them. He looks at each and every one of them.

“We have no choice, my Lords. To survive the war and survive winter we will need to cooperate with Queen Daenerys,” he says and no one seems to argue anymore. “To ease your minds I will choose some of your to join me and Ser Davos down to Dragonstone while the rest of you under the watch of the temporary Lord of Winterfell Brandon Stark begin preparing for the dead.”

He watches Sansa's face fall hearing that she will not be in charge. He struggles to keep his smirk off his face but he somehow manages.

“You said temporary,” Lord Manderly says and everyone quiets and looks at the Lord of White Harbor. “That Lord Brandon would be temporarily the Lord of Winterfell.”

He gets a nod from Bran letting him know it's alright to reveal this information.

“I did,” he concedes. “Bran has let me know that he wishes to join Lady Meera to Greywater Watch if we survive the upcoming war since she has become Lord Reed’s only child.”

“Then who will sit here as Lord of Winterfell?” Lord Glover asks others grunting in agreement.

“The Lord of Winterfell will be my brother Rickon Stark,” gasps are heard around the room. “When I rescued them both from the Ironborn I sent Rickon away to keep both heirs of Winterfell safe and out of the clutches of our enemies. One of the missions on our trip to Dragonstone is to retrieve my brother from whom has kept him safe for these past few years.”

He hears whispers and wonders as to whom he had entrusted his brother too but he refuses to reveal this to them at this moment.

“Lady Mormont, Lord Glover, Lord Manderly, would you be willing to accompany me to Dragonstone?” he asks. Those named all stand proudly.

“Aye my King, we’ll gladly follow where you lead,” Glover answers firmly.

The other two also agree. He then turns to Lord Royce.

“Lord Royce. I know when you rode here to our aide you did so under orders of Petyr Baelish, who was the Protector of the Vale until young Robyn became of age. Now that falls to you and I ask if you to will join me and stand for the Vale?”

The proud man stands and gives him a nod of agreement.

“Very well. We set for White Harbor tomorrow. For now, this gathering is adjourned,” he announces. All stand to leave, bowing before doing so. Davos, Sansa, and Bran all stay behind and once alone he turns to face his sister.

“You try and pull another stunt like that Sansa, I won’t care that we were raised as siblings. Your loyalty is to me, don’t try to undermine me, for you will not like what you’ll encounter,” he warns before leaving the room. He slows down this time and Davos is quick to catch up.

“So we’re going to Dragonstone,” he says as they walk to the newly declared King’s quarters.

“Aye,” he answers, not wanting to say something others might hear and Davos seems to understand.

“Lord Glover? Lord Royce?” Davos questions as they enter the room.

“After the stunt, Sansa just pulled I can’t leave them here with her. She’ll try to sway them and turn them in her favor. The rest of the houses are loyal enough to me and to Bran. Lyanna and Lord Manderly are some of my strongest supporters so they will most easily accept what is to come,” he explains.

“Clever. Now unless you require me for something else I will go pack for our journey,” Davos says.

He dismisses the man and as he’s left alone he once again stares into the flames.

I'm coming Dany…

Chapter Text

He sits there at the base of his mother’s statue alternating between weeping and pulling on his hair in pure rage for gods knows how long.

He feels Ghost’s head on his lap, trying to give him some sort of comfort.

Why didn’t he tell me?

For years he’s wondered who his mother was. He’s lived with the doubt of whether she was alive or if she loved him. And now to see how much she loved him, how much both his parents had loved him, enough to start a war for him and watch as they both died, it’s broken something inside him.

Not broken, no.

No, something has been unleashed. A fire that he remembers only a few times releasing in anger. When Lady Stark had insulted him, when Theon humiliated him, whenever he was called a bastard. He’s been good at hiding it but not anymore.

You’re not a Stark.

No, he wasn’t, he was a Targaryen.

He hears footsteps approaching and Ghost lifts his head to stare at the person.

“Jon! There you are! We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he hears his father, no his uncle call out.

He feels when the man stops in front of him and even picks up the moment his breath hitches as he realizes whose statue he’s sitting at.

“Let’s go, Jon, it's getting late and there is no need for you to be down here,” the Lord of Winterfell says, placing a hand upon his shoulder. He immediately shrugs it off, hating to even feel the touch of the man who’s lied to him his entire life.

“Jon?” Lord Stark questions once again placing his hand on his shoulder. This time however he stands, glaring at his uncle, fury, and rage running through his veins.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” he demands to know.

“What are you talking about?” Ned asks but he can see the nerves in his eyes, the fear and dread let him know that his uncle suspects what he may know.

“You know very well what, Lord Stark,” he shouts, startling the man. “Were you ever going to tell me?” he growls.

The Lord sighs, a look of defeat taking over his face.

“Jon you have to understand,” Ned starts.

“No! Answer the question, Lord Stark! Were you ever going to tell me?!” he yells.

The lord hangs his head in shame before giving him his response.

A simple shake of the head.

That makes his blood boil even more. This man couldn’t even give him a verbal answer.

“My whole life has been a lie. I've been treated like a craven, like your living stain and sin, and you can’t even give me an answer? An explanation? An apology!?” he yells.

“Jon…”

“That’s not my name!” he cuts off. “My mother gave me a name and even that was taken from me!”

“Jon. You have to understand Robert would have killed you,” his uncle starts.

“And you would have stood there and let him. Just like you did with my siblings,” he challenges.

“No! I never agreed with how Robert handled the Royal Family!”

“And yet you’re still friends with him!”

“Everything I’ve done was to protect you. To keep my promise to my sister,” Ned argues.

“Was being treated the way I was how my mother would have wanted?” he asks. “I never complained because I was a bastard and being alive and in a home was more than I deserved. But now I ask how could you let it happen?”

No answer, at least for a moment.

“I couldn’t risk anyone looking into you. Any treatment beyond what was acceptable for a… illegitimate son would have drawn attention to you,” the man tries to explain.

“Bastard Lord Stark. Say the word, bastard. That’s the title you’ve bestowed on me the least you can do is say it! Your wife has a problem saying it to me, nor does the Septa that teaches your daughters or your ward. Say it. You’ve made me a bastard!” he shouts.

“It was to keep you safe and away from Robert’s attention. Things needed to remain the way they’re supposed to be,” his uncle says and stops him in cold.

“You… you didn’t do it for me. You did it to keep your friend Robert in power…”

“Robert is a better king than Aerys.”

“What about my father? My real father? He would have made a great king,” he argues and Ned looks away.

“Maybe. But he made the mistake of running off with what wasn’t his and they’re both dead because of it. And that’s the end of it.”

But before he could retort his uncle speaks.

“Tomorrow you'll be escorted to the Wall. I’ll send a raven to your Uncle Benjen to let him know about your arrival,” Ned says almost coldly.

“What?” he stutters.

“You’ll take your vows swearing off any claims and then everything will be fine,” he continues.

“So you’d make me swear my life away. Send me to freeze up North until the end of my days?”

At least the man grimaces.

“It's for the best, Jon. You’ll be safe and Robert will stay King…”

He refused to hear anything else as he runs away.

For what remained of the day he stays locked up in his room. He won’t go to the Wall. He won't. But where to go. There's cawing outside the door and when he opens it the same raven flies into his room followed by Ghost. The bird lands upon his shoulder and his vision changes.

He finds himself in the room of his dreams. And there, on the edge of the bed is her. She looks up and her eyes meet his own. His legs carry him towards her and her hand immediately reaches for his own pulling him up on the bed.

Before she can pull him into a kiss, he stops her. He can see the confusion upon her face as he gently cups her cheek.

Silver hair, violet eyes…

“Who are you?” he whispers, speaking for the first time, needing to know if his suspicions are correct.

“My name is Daenerys,” she answers her voice sounding like a song.

Daenerys. She’s Daenerys Targaryen. Daughter of Aerys and Rhaella Targaryen, Sister of Rhaegar, his aunt. She was exiled with her brother Viserys across the Narrow Sea from what he remembered Maester Luwin teaching them.

“Daenerys…” he sighs, rubbing his thumb across her cheek.

“And you? Who are you?” she asks.

He opens his mouth to answer but he can’t. He doesn’t know who he is. He lowers his hand and pulls away not able to face the beautiful woman before him.

“I… I wish I knew,” he admits. “All my life I believed I was no one, just a stain upon my father’s honor, a mistake he had made. But now I’m someone else, I was meant to be someone, that there were people who loved me, that my name, my real name held power, held legacy… I don’t know who I’m meant to be.”

There's a minute of silence and he fears that she may have left him alone. But he feels her embrace and her love and warmth engulfs him.

“Be who you want,” she says to him. “Whoever that may be.”

He hears the raven calling and feels everything begins to fade.

“Tell me where you are. I may not know who I am but I know I want to be with you,” he almost begs.

“Pentos,” she answers.

He kisses her.

“I'll find you Dany. I swear,” he says.

Things become even more faded and soon he finds himself in his room. Both animals once again stare at him.

“Pentos? You want me to go to Pentos?” he asks.

He doesn’t receive an answer but he knows it what he has to do. He begins to pack what he can when he hears something near his door. He opens it and sees Arya standing there. The tears in her eyes let him know she understands what’s happening.

He hugs her tightly, not knowing if this might be the last time that he does. He only let’s go to retrieve a gift he had saved for her.

“I had it made for you,” he explains handing the narrow blade to her. “You’ll have to keep it hidden and practice in secret but I know it’s what you’ve always wanted.”

“I don’t know how to use it,” Arya mutters in awe.

“Well lesson one is stick them with the pointy end,” he answers with a smile and is immediately embraced by his sister.

“I love you, Jon,” she mumbles into his shoulder.

“I love you too Arya, never forget it.”

He lets go, looking upon his sister one final time before she leaves.

When he knows most of the castle is asleep he makes his move. He leaves his room carrying his belongings and sneaks into the Lord’s solar. He hates doing this but be knows that if he’s to make it to his destination he needs money. So he steals a pouch of coins, followed by a blade and finally a horse. He makes his way out the gate Ghost following close behind.

As he makes it far enough away he turns to take a final look at the place he had grown up in. His emotions threaten to take the better of him but he keeps himself composed. This was never truly his home, he had felt like an outsider like at any minute he could be sent away and he nearly was. Now his journey will begin. His search for who he truly is and the home he might be able to make.

Chapter Text

He’s never been at sea, never been anywhere outside of Winterfell if he’s being honest. But now, here he is on a boat sailing East. It had been a month since he had left Winterfell and traveled to White Harbor, he had rushed fearing that his uncle may have sent men to find him.

He had boarded the first ship heading to the Free City, probably paying more than he should, especially for Ghost.

The poor direwolf was already tired of being at sea, barely eating a thing he fed him and so was he.

He can see land and the captain had announced they would be landing within an hour.

Pentos…

One of the free cities of Essos. The city that housed his Targaryen family. The city that hopefully held his future.

Where should I start? Where should I look for her? I’ll need a job, a place to live…

The captain of the ship had offered him a job, to continue sailing the seas, even offered him a good pay. However, he had decided that he needed to find Dany first and together they would decide what to do.

Dany…

He hadn’t dreamt of her since he left Winterfell but he felt her. Felt her anxiety, her yearning, and at times her fear. He’s not sure what causes that emotion but he swears he’ll stop whatever it is.

Soon enough they arrive upon the docks and the first thing that hits him is the heat. He was born in a long summer but even in the summer, the North was cold. How people survived here he’s not sure.

He makes his way through the city receiving stares and whispers as no one has ever seen a direwolf, much less one of Ghost’s color. Ghost pants next to him the heat being even harsher to the poor boy. He wipes his brow, looking for a way to find relief from this heat.

Thankfully he soon finds a vendor one that speaks the common tongue and that sells clothing much more appropriate for the climate. He tries to get past the sheerness of the materials used and reminds himself that its necessary to get used to this. He pays the man and gratefully receives direction to an inn that will possibly allow him to keep Ghost in his rooms.

The room he obtains is small and simple, much like his room at Winterfell. Ghost whines as he crawls onto the bed.

“You were tired of that ship weren’t you boy,” he says sitting upon the bed and petting the white fur on the direwolf’s head.

He receives another whine as he feels his own eyes begin to droop and breath evening out with his direwolf’s. He must be more tired than he thought for the moment he lays upon the bed he falls asleep.

He sees her, only this time they are not in a room, instead, they’re in a bath and he sees her bathing in the water, her back turned to him, steam rising from the water.

“Dany?” he calls out, causing her to jump, as she turns to look at him. Although her body is completely submerged he can still see her figure through the water, a figure he’s caressed and imagined many nights.

However, one look upon her face and the trail of tears on her cheeks makes all thoughts leave his mind. He rushes to her side, climbing into the bath, hissing slightly at the feel of the hot water but ignoring it nevertheless. He uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe away her tears, looking deeply into her eyes and her eyes alone.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he whispers in the softest voice he can.

She leans into his touch, her mouth opening and closing in her attempt to speak. But all that happens is more tears fall from her eyes.

He holds her tightly, ignoring the feel of her body against his own. She weeps into his chest, wetting the only dry part of his soaked clothing.

“My brother he…” she stammers between her sobs, “he sold me…”

He tenses at this, tightening his hold on her.

“He… he wants an army… the Dothraki… he’s going to come to see me today… I'm to marry him.”

He pulls her away, looking into her eyes, holding her head in his hands.

“Do you want to?” he needs to ask.

“What?” she asks.

“Do you want to marry the Dothraki man?” he asks.

“No,” she answers. “But my brother is the rightful King, my only family, I'm to do what he asks to get back his throne.”

“What if he isn’t?” he asks, seeing a way to get her out of this.

“What do you mean?”

“What if Viserys isn’t the rightful King. What if there is someone else who had a better claim? Someone who shared your blood and who would never hurt you?” his voice practically begging and shaking in pure emotion and desperation. “Someone who would love you and protect you and remind you every single day that you are not alone?”

She tears up again, turning her head to kiss the palm of his hand.

“I would leave with him immediately,” she answers barely above a whisper.

“Then leave with me,” he implores. “I grew up as Jon Snow, bastard of Ned Stark. But my name, the name I recently discovered I was born with is Jaehaerys Targaryen, son of Rhaegar and Lyanna.”

He watches as she processes the news and he keeps talking, trying his best to convince her.

“I know it's hard to believe but I wouldn’t lie to you about this Dany. I… I sailed across the Narrow Sea to find you. I'm in Pentos right now, I just need you to trust and believe me,” he vents but she stops him with a single finger upon his lips.

Her eyes were once again watering but this time a smile graces her face.

“My blood,” she sighs before leaning up to kiss him.

It ignites immediately.

Their kisses turn bolder, moans being swallowed by each other. Her legs wrap around his waist and he’s instantly reminded of her bareness.

He can’t hold back, something inside him had snapped as he presses her against the tub's wall. His hips begin to rock against her own, feeling her heat through his thin pants.

But he won’t take her.

Whenever he does he wants to truly be there. He wants to be married to her. He wants to be able to be with her without any fears.

So, for now, this will be enough.

He thrusts against her, moaning at the gratifying friction and he pulls his mouth away, panting into her ear and kissing her neck. His hands wander her body and he loves every sound he manages to extract from her. He can’t last long and he knows that she can’t either.

Soon they both come undone, silencing their moans with kisses and slowly their breaths and heartbeats begin to return to normal. They each rest their heads against their shoulders.

“Where are you Dany?” he whispers, placing a soft kiss upon her skin.

“A… manse…” she says breathlessly. “I…Illyrio… M… Mopatis…”

He grunts, letting her know he understood, placing softer kisses on her neck.

“I’ll come for you tonight,” he says pulling away to look into her eyes. “Pack whatever you may need, whatever you want to take with us.”

She nods.

“Daenerys!” he hears a voice yell out and fear once again shows on her face.

“Its Viserys,” she says her voice laced with fear. “I’m not sure if he can see you but…”

He nods in understanding kissing her one last time.

“Be ready Dany,” he says feeling everything begin to fade.

As he wakes, he immediately gets out of bed to change clothing and prepare for his rescue.

He asks around before the sun sets where he could find the manse Dany had told him about and eventually he does find it. He waits, and as soon as the sun goes down he makes his move.

He avoids the guards, cursing the fact that he failed to ask which quarters belonged to Daenerys. But suddenly he sees movement by one of the windows.

And there on the balcony, he sees Daenerys Targaryen for the first time.

Chapter Text

The seas were kind.

But the Manderlys were even more so.

The Lord of White Harbor had spared no expense and had provided the grandest and fastest ship in his fleet. The lord’s cabin had been given to him, no matter how much he argued with Merman.

“Nothing but the best for our King.”

It had been a while since he sailed. The last time being his trip back to Westeros. At the time he had found no calm in the waves, desperate to come save his brothers and hating his abandonment of his wife. But now he found something relaxing in the rocking of the ship and the noise of the waves crashing upon the vessel.

But all calm must come to an end.

The captain had informed them that they were two days mayhaps three from arriving at Dragonstone and still he had not told the Lords and Lady Lyanna who they were really encountering. He had dragged his feet enough on the subject and it was time to reveal the truth to his companions.

A knock on his cabin door is heard and is proceeded by his Hand entering the room.

“You sent for me, Your Grace?” the former smuggler asks, standing before his desk.

“Aye. I think its time to reveal the whole truth to our companions,” he tells Ser Davos.

“Are you sure?” his Hand questions.

“We’ll be arriving soon, Davos. And I’m tired of hiding it,” he explains. “I love her, she is my wife and my Queen and every day that passes in which I don’t reveal the truth and give her her place I feel that I am betraying her. Betraying my vows, betraying our family! I just want it all to stop, to be able to arrive at Dragonstone and not have to fake anything.”

Davos nods in understanding.

“I'll summon them here then,” his Hand answers, before taking a slight bow and leaving the room.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back. Taking deep settling breaths both eager and dreading to get this done.

Knocks from the door alert him of the passage of time and upon opening his eyes he sees the three Lords and Lady that he chose for this voyage entering his quarters.

They all bow respectfully and he gestures toward the chairs which they all quickly fill.

“Thank you all for coming my Lords,” he says leaning forward, placing his arms on the desk before him. “As you know we’ll soon be arriving at Dragonstone and before we do there are a few things that I need to reveal to you.”

He can see the suspicion form in their eyes, a distrust and in the case of Lord Glover and Lord Royce, the opportunity to turn. But he decides to push forward.

“When I disappeared, where did Lord Stark say I went?” he asks, suspecting where his uncle had said but needing it confirmed.

“He stated you had gone to the Wall, Your Grace,” Lord Manderly answers. “At least that’s where your cousin Robb believed you to be.”

He nods, confirming what he thought.

“That was a lie my Lords. When the truth was brought forward, my uncle planned for me to go, to make sure I would not challenge Robert Baratheon’s claim,” he sees a flash of anger at this, on his behalf. “I say this not to cast my uncle in a negative light, but to explain where exactly I was before saving my brothers from the Ironborn and heading beyond the wall with Bran.”

All of them nod in understanding and with their gazes urge him to continue. He takes a deep breath.

“Instead of heading North, I went East. I took a ship from White Harbor and went to Essos,” he says. “I wanted to make a name for myself, to figure out who I was,” he explains not wanting to reveal how much Dany had been his reason for going to the older continent. “While there I met Daenerys Targaryen.”

Everyone seems to sit up straight as this detail is revealed.

“At the time, she was being used as a bargaining chip by her brother to get himself an army. She was to be sold off to a Dothraki horse lord just as my sister was sold off to Ramsay Bolton,” he tries to hide his anger and disgust of this but obviously fails.

Surprisingly those before him, especially Lyanna Mormont show their disgust at this.

“Her own brother?” Lord Royce, in revulsion.

“Aye,” he grunts, trying to get his anger under control at the memory. His hands clench whenever his uncle was mentioned and now was not an exception. “The Queen’s life was not easy my Lords, especially when living with her brother. But that’s her own story to tell, not mine.”

They all nod in agreement.

“She… she was… she is my family. I may not have grown up knowing her as I did the Starks or known about her for that long but I couldn’t allow her to be…so I helped her escape,” he explains.

“You did the right thing, my King,” Lady Lyanna says as they all look to her. “No woman should be forced to endure those horrors and you managed to spare a family member from it.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” he responds.

“So you’ve met the Queen, then?” Lord Glover asks.

“I have,” he answers.

“How well did you know her? Is she like her…” Lord Royce begins to ask but he immediately shakes his head.

“No. She is nothing like my grandfather. I wouldn’t have sent my brother to her otherwise,” he answers.

There’s a part of him that enjoys the shock in their faces. But he keeps that part hidden.

“Y…you sent Lord Stark to the Dragon Queen? Instead of to a Northern House?!” Lord Glover demands his anger and voice rising.

He stands abruptly, his chair screeching against the floorboards and nearly falling to the ground. His hands slam onto the desk, as his fury begins to burn within his veins.

“Her name is Queen Daenerys, Lord Glover, best get used to it. And forgive me my Lords and Lady but the Karstarks, Umbers and your own refusal to help me during the Battle of the Bastards showed why I could not trust any house but my own to care for my youngest sibling,” he growls.

“But your family has turned on each other before. What makes you so sure she won’t do that? Why trust her with the heir of Winterfell?” Glover continues standing up to stare him down.

“Because she is my family. I spent nearly two years at her side during which I gained her trust and she gained mine.”

“She may be your family but everyone in Westeros knows her as a foreign whore…”

He can’t hold back, he lunges across his desk, and grabs hold of the lord. He may be taller than him but he would not be intimidated nor allow this language to be used.

“You are talking about the Queen. Not just a Queen but the Queen, Lord Glover. Queen not only through her own right but through blood and marriage. And if I hear you or anyone else refer to my wife in any derogatory form I will personally rip your tongues out,” he growls before shoving the man into the vacated chair.

The other three people in the cabin are stunned in silence as he tries to collect himself.

“She’s your…” Lord Manderly starts.

“My wife,” he answers, his breath beginning to settle And he feels a giant weight lifting from his shoulders as he finally voices those words. “That is why I refused any advances made towards me. Not out of disrespect for the daughters of the North but out of respect for my wife.”

There’s understanding in both Lord Royce’s and Lord Manderly’s eyes, the later who had sent his granddaughters his way more than once. Lady Lyanna rolls her eyes at the mention of those advances, having hated to see women doing those sorts of things. Lord Glover glares at him as he straightens himself out.

“I apologize my Lord for losing my temper as I did but I simply cannot stand by as men call my wife by that name. I'm sure you would have acted the same had it been your wife in question,” he says and surprisingly Lord Glover’s demeanor seems to calm and come to understanding.

“You’re right, your Grace. I apologize, had I known it was your lady wife I would not have spoken as such,” the Lord says.

He shouldn’t have spoken like that regardless.

He swallows that thought and decides to go on.

“Why did the Queen not join you to Westeros?” Lyanna asks.

“And why did you not reveal this to us at Winterfell before all the Lords?” Lord Royce adds.

He sighs dreading the answers to these questions.

“My wife grew up in the streets, chased by assassins her entire life, begging for food and shelter. When we were together, we saw how much people were suffering, how slaves were treated by their masters. She had the power to do something about it so she did. I would have been at her side but I began to have dreams. Be it from the magic from the first men or from the Valaryians, but I saw the Ironborn attacking Winterfell. We decided that I would come here to help my brothers and she would begin freeing those in Essos,” he sighs. “ I wasn’t supposed to take so long. The plan was for me to rescue Bran and Rickon and return to her with them. But instead I accompanied Bran beyond the wall and sent Rickon to her.”

He takes a moment to let that information sink in, sitting back down in his seat and running his hand through his hair as the next thought runs through his mind.

“She… she was pregnant when I left her,” he admits, his voice shaking. “I… I don’t even know if I have a son or daughter, if the child lives or not. But I couldn’t risk their safety by revealing them at Winterfell without knowing if there were spies from Cersei, or loyalist of the Boltons.”

I wasn’t sure who I could trust and still don’t.

“I'm trusting you four with this,” he says looking at all four of them. “I want you all to meet her, not only as my wife but as the Queen she has become and deserves to be. That’s why I brought you, that’s why I'm revealing this to you.”

There’s silence as they all process everything.

“I know you all need time to process. We have a few days before we arrive, if you have any concerns, any questions you may come address me,” he adds.

After a few more moments they all start asking questions and he does his best to answer them.

Eventually they all retire and agree to dine with him to answer anything else they might have. Once they do leave Ser Davos enters his quarters with a small grin.

“How did it go?” his Hand asks.

“I only threatened to cut out Lord Glover’s tongue once,” he responds with a sigh.

There’s a small moment of silence before a smile forms on both his face and Davos'.

“So it went well,” the former smuggler chuckle, taking a seat in front of him.

“Aye. I revealed what I had to and gave them free reign to ask me what they wish,” he answers pouring himself and Davos a cup of ale.

“Good. Good,” Davos says, taking the offered cup. “Are you ready to face her lad? Meet your little one?”

“I am,” he answers with a smile.

Two more days pass and soon they’re disembarking and rowing towards the imposing castle that is Dragonstone.

A group is awaiting them upon the shore and before they fully reach it Ghost jumps out of the rowboat and tackles a figure to the ground. He hears the person's laughter even over the waves as they approach and climb out of the boat. Ghost releases the lad from the ground and runs towards a familiar direwolf and playfully begins “fighting" with him.

He chuckles at the sight of the two brothers acting more like pups than nearly horse sized beasts they are before walking towards his own sibling and embracing him.

“I'm so happy to see you’re alright,” he sighs in relief, holding Rickon a little tighter.

“I'm happy to see you too, your Grace,” Rickon teases.

He pulls away and glares at his little brother.

“None of that. You’re my brother, you’re not allowed to call me that,” he teases back.

“You sound so much like Dany. She hates it when I address her like that,” Rickon laughs and he feels his heart clench at her name. His brother seems to pick up on this. “She’s missed you a lot Jon.”

“I did too,” he whispers before turning to the rest of the welcome party.

He recognizes his wife’s handmaid Missandei, but if her presence here at the beach shows anything it’s that the woman from Naarth is so much more now.

“We welcome you all to Dragonstone. Queen Daenerys has been anxiously awaiting your arrival my Lords,” nodding towards Glover, Royce , and Manderly, “ my Lady,” towards Lyanna and finally she turns towards him with a smile on her face, “and my King,” she adds with a bow.

“Its good to see you again Missandei. Thank you for serving my Queen and watching over my brother,” he says.

“It was my honor your Grace. First to serve the breaker of chains then to watch over Lord Stark when he arrived to us as we began our trip to Meereen,” Missandei says with pride.

He turns to face his companions.

“My Lords and Lady, this is my brother Rickon Stark, safe as promised,” he announces.

There’s a flash of shame in Lord Glover’s eyes which he is quick to cover up.

“Lord Stark, it will be an honor to serve the son of Eddard Stark,” Lord Manderly speaks and the others nod in agreement.

A flash of something akin to anger and disdain grazes Rickon's features but he quickly places an almost regal mask upon his face.

You have taught him well, Dany.

He then turns towards Missandei.

“And this is Missandei of Naarth…”

“Closest advisor to Queen Daenerys,” the translator quickly fills in. “She and King Jaehaerys freed me and the Unsullied at Astapor. Since then, as liberated men, we pledged ourselves to them both.”

The awe on the Lords’ faces is priceless and he is about to ask to move on when a loud roar is heard above them. The Northerners quickly fall to the ground as one of the dragons flies above their heads before quickly landing next to them.

Everyone including the Queen's advisors back away from the beast but he doesn't. Instead a bright smile forms on his face and he steps closer with his hand extended out to touch him.

“Your Grace!” Davos exclaims, trying to stop him.

“Don't worry Ser Davos, he won't hurt me,” he calls back, not turning his gaze from the dragon. As his hand touches the warm snout he begins to speak softly. “Look how much you've grown my son.”

The dragon in response makes a sound of pleasure and happiness.

“Have you and your brothers taken good care of your mother?”

He hears all three dragons roar in agreement. Rhaegal's attention turns to the castle and he follows his gaze. He manages to see the silver locks of his queen from the castle and he feels the familiar tug in his heart.

I’m coming, my love.

Not breaking his gaze from her figure he steps away from the dragon, silently promising him to spend more time with him later before he flies away.

“I think it's time to proceed,” he says, ignoring the flabbergasted looks of his men. Missandei seems to be trying to hide her smirk as she takes charge of the situation.

“Very well, if you would please leave your weapons with the Dothraki, I'll be glad to lead you to the queen,” she announces.

He quickly removes Blackfyre and hands it to the closest Dothraki warrior. His men follow suit and they all proceed to the castle.

“So petting dragons now are we?” Lord Manderly says as they walk.

“Well given who I am it shouldn't surprise you,” he points out with a chuckle. “I apologize for frightening you all, but I helped raise those dragons since they were born. I knew they wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Well before we meet the Queen, you should keep your reckless behavior to a minimum, your Grace,” Lady Lyanna says and he nods.

“I will my Lady,” he vows as they arrive at the doors of the throne room.

As they open they reveal the majestic dragonglass throne in which each prince of Dragonstone has sat upon.

And there even more beautiful and majestic than in memory is his Queen, his Dany.

 

Chapter Text

He can’t breathe.

His breath has left him just at the sight of her.

He can’t speak or even attempt to take a single step towards her even as their evergrowing titles are exchanged.

She is real and she is there right before his eyes.

Ghost has no reservations, no hesitations and simply trots towards Dany, reminding him of how the once pup did just that across the Narrow Sea the first time he laid eyes on her.

Her guards instantly move to protect their Queen but with a simple flick of her wrist they stand down.

She stands from her throne and a bright smile graces her features as she caresses the beast before her, laughing at the licks she receives and breaking her queenly persona.

“Did you remember me, my sweet boy,” she nearly coos. “You’re still my little pup.”

Ghost’s tail wags and soft whines of happiness come out of the direwolf.

He glances behind him and his companions have the same look on their faces as they did down at the beach.  They had all heard of or seen the direwolf be the ferocious beast of legend on the battlefield. They had seen how the world refused anyone from getting too close to him or his master. Now in front of them, the mighty sigil of House Stark has become nothing more than a pup at the hand of the Queen.

He turns to face her again and finds her standing and looking directly at him.

Could it be possible she grew even more beautiful?

A timid smile forms on her face as does a tinge of fear.  

And that does him in.

Not caring how desperate he may look or how unkinglike it may be, but he surges towards her and enfolds her in his arms, crushing her into his chest.

He breathes her in, her scent so familiar, warm and homely.

It takes but a second for her arms to wrap around him below the cloak he wears grasping onto his armor. He could spend the rest of his life like this but he needs to see her to truly take her in. He pulls away, just enough to admire her face. His eyes blur and he raises her hand to graze her face.  Violet eyes full of love and yearning converge with his own. His lips demand to descend to meet with her own especially when hers part slightly, but he resists. Instead, he says the words he’s dreamt if saying to her again since he left her side years ago.

“I love you,” he reaffirms to her.

She doesn’t say the words back, there is no need. Her eyes speak the truth and he knows she feels the same. She slightly turns her head to place a kiss against his palm and he feels a familiar surge course through him.

“We have a lot to talk about,” she answers, her voice trembling with emotion. The words cause self-doubt to creep upon him, fear that his decisions may have led to some unwanted results. But her eyes immediately extinguish those fears and all he can do is nod in response.

A throat clearing reminds him that they’re not alone, that the reunion that he wants, that he desires would not be proper.

He lets her go but intertwines their fingers, holding her hand and placing the kiss he wishes to bestow on her lips on the back of it. He turns and sees another familiar face approach them. He is slightly older, his age becoming more apparent but now instead of the armor of the Royal Guard, he instead wears a pin, marking him Hand of the Queen.

“Your Grace,” the older man, says genuflecting with a grin on his face.

“Rise Ser Barristan,” he announces and hears a few gasps from the Northerners. “I thank you for taking care of my family.”

“It was my honor to serve the Queen and the Rightful King, your Grace,” Barristan answers proudly.

Another man wearing Golden armor also steps forward, genuflecting before rising.

“My King, the Golden Company is still under your command,” the leader of the Golden Company pledges.

“Thank you, Harry,” he answers with a nod.

Finally, he turns towards his advisors with his wife’s arm looped through his.

“My Lords and Lady, I’d like to introduce my wife and Queen, Daenerys Targaryen,” he announces to them.

They all seem confused as to how to address his Queen and all they do is nod their heads. His anger rises. They should bow to her, show more respect and he almost demands it of them. However, a calming hand stops him. He looks at Dany and a tight smile is on her face.

“My Lords, my Lady, welcome to Dragonstone. During our time in Essos, my husband would tell me of the pride and loyalty of the people of the North. It seems that my husband has earned your loyalty and respect. I hope that I too will soon prove myself to you all and earn it in my own right,” she says regally.

The lords take a moment to look at each other, trying to communicate without speaking. The first to step forward, once again ignoring her elders, is Lyanna Mormont.

“Lord Stark has named you his Queen. The man I named my King has also named you his Queen. He has preached that we are not to judge children with the sins of their fathers and I for one agree with him,” she turns to look at the other Lords. “You all may make your own decisions but I for one am going to trust my King and my liege Lord,” she turns back around and bends the knee to Daenerys. “Queen Daenerys, you have my loyalty. But my respect and trust I can not offer yet.”

“And I won’t demand it of you,” Daenerys answers without missing a beat. “As I said, I will work to earn it and hope to deserve it.”

The young Lady of Bear Island stands back up and Daenerys gestures towards Missandei who steps towards them.

“Missandei please escort our guests to their rooms. My husband and I have a lot to talk about,” she orders.  

There is no hesitation, no arguments, no challenging, in other words, the complete opposite of when he ordered something in Winterfell. He’s a bit jealous of the command she holds but that is overwhelmed completely by his pride for her. Everyone moves to leave them alone, even Ghost follows Rickon out of the room.

As soon as the final door shuts, his apology sits upon his lips ready to be uttered. But before he can verbalize it, her lips crash against his own. Instinctively he pulls her closer against his body moaning in pleasure and bliss.

He’s missed this. He almost lost the opportunity to have this, to have her in his arms again. He kisses her harder at this thought and he hears her moan in response.

His fingers itch to start pulling on her dress, especially when her hands begin traveling down his body. She starts pushing him back and they nearly trip upon the steps, but never once do they break their kiss. Eventually, they reach her planned destination and she slightly shoves him onto the dragon glass throne.

He feels a surge of something, of power, of magic as he sits upon the throne his father had once sat on. His wife appears to give him a moment, probably having felt the same the first time she sat here.

But it’s only a moment.

The next he watches as she begins to undo the riding breeches hidden beneath her dress. He follows suit, lifting himself just enough to lower his own. She straddles his lap rocking on him once, twice until she finally sinks onto him.

They moan simultaneously, but neither moves.

His hands clench onto her hips as he tries to not cum like a green boy. It’s been so long, his memories had not done this any justice. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder, his breath shuttering as he tries to calm himself. The tie on his hair is undone and he feels her soft fingers tug on his hair until he’s looking at her. He remembers her saying to him that love comes in through the eyes.

And now all he can see in her beautiful violet eyes is love.

They move in sync both taking and giving, remembering and learning. Neither wanting it to end but both yearning for their peak. They don’t last long, their time away making it impossible to last. Between their settling breaths, they stay together, connected as one, gently kissing each other.

“Dany, my Dany,” he moans against her lips.

A sob leaves her mouth and he stops at the feel of tears against his cheeks, not only his own but hers as well. He pulls away, both of them breathless but unwilling to let each other go. He wipes her tears hating to see them.

“My love,” he whispers.

“My blood,” she whispers backs, her hand wiping his tears.

“I'm sorry Dany. I'm so sorry,” he says, feeling that it’s nowhere near enough.

“No. No apologizing,” she stops him. “You’re here now. You’re here with me. You’re here with us.”

Us.

It hadn’t only been her he had abandoned. It hadn’t only been his brother that she had left under her care.

It had also been their child.

His hands travel to where he remembered their child growing years ago. He had never gotten the opportunity to see it swell or to feel his child grow and move within. He had missed the birth, the first cries, the first steps, the first words. He knew their child had lived, regardless of what he told the Northern Lords because Bran had told him. But he still knew little to nothing more.  

“Dany,” his voice shaking. “Wh… what did we have?”

A smile forms on her face, as if the simple mention of their child brightens her day even more. And it most likely does.

“We have a son, my love,” she answers.

A son. He has a son.

He kisses her again, crying in joy at the fact that this woman, his love, his queen has born him a son. An heir. A son he will help raise to become a man, to become a king.

“What’s his name?” he asks.

She smiles again, looking to be lost in memory before returning to the present.

“You know that my education, even about our own family was lacking before meeting you. But one of the stories that stood out to me the most was about King Jaehaerys and Good Queen Alysanne. How they had been the first royals to travel North and how beloved they were,” she starts. “I also remembered a young man, his namesake, who had been raised a bastard but grew to become an honorable King, who rescued a princess and helped regain what was rightfully theirs. So, I named our son after him in hopes that he may be as beloved as our ancestor was and as his father,” she explains.

Jaehaerys. His son’s name was Jaehaerys. She named their son after him.

He pulls her into a kiss needing to show how much this means to him.

“I want to meet him, Dany,” he implores, his voice almost desperate.

She nods, giving him a final kiss before standing up.

They straighten themselves up, not wanting to make it obvious what they had done in the throne room. Outside, a pair of Unsullied are keeping guard not saying a word of what they may or may not have heard.

They walk together, arms interlocked through the dark hallways of Dragonstone. To others it may look menacing or daunting, however to him it feels welcoming. And the more time he spends in this castle the more like the home he believes it will become.  

They stop in front of a door and all the cheerfulness of before abandons her features.

“Before we walk in… I need you to know something,” she starts, seeming to be struggling. “Letting you go… it was one of the hardest things to do,” she admits, and he can't help but squeeze her hand.  “The only thing that kept me going,” she continues, not letting the sadness of her loss overwhelm her, “was knowing that you loved me and the knowledge that you had left part of you with me,” she smiles.

“My original plan was to return to you as soon as I rescued my brothers but I couldn't. Bran needed my help and something told me that I needed to go beyond the Wall. I'm so sorry,” he apologizes again.

“Rickon and Osha explained things to me when they arrived. I won’t lie there was a time I was angry at your decision, especially as time went by,” he grimaces at this. “But I finally came to understand that if there had been a way for you to return to us sooner, you would have,” she says.

He can't say anything, her forgiveness and understanding leaving him speechless. Even as she pushes the door open and leads them into what he assumes is a nursery he can't speak.

A Dothraki woman is sitting in the middle of the room, appearing to be playing with someone who is blocked from his view by a table.

“Thank you for watching him,” Daenerys says in Dothraki.

“You are welcome, Khalessi,” she answers, giving a small bow before leaving the room.

He watches Daenerys’ face brightens as she walks away towards the center of the room. He can't fully understand what she's sweetly saying in what he assumes is Valyrian but he hears a giggle coming from behind the table. 

She bends down and suddenly in her arms is a four-year-old boy with his mother’s silver hair and his grey eyes.

“This is your papa, my little one,” she says to the little boy.

“Kepa?” the little boy asks.

“Kessa, issa jorrāelagon. Ziry emagon māzigon arlī naejot īlva,” she answers in Valyrian. (Yes, my love. He has come back to us)

He didn't know how to react to what was before him.  The image was everything he has ever wanted but never dreamed of having. He finally had a family.

“Jon,” she calls to him and he draws his attention to her. “Do you want to hold him?”

All he can do is nod.

He walks towards them, nerves threatening to get the best of him. The boy shies away hiding his face in his mother’s shoulder and he hesitates. Dany whispers something in their son’s ear and the boy once again turns to look at him.

He takes a deep breath and takes the last few steps to be next to them. A bright smile forms on Jaehaerys’s face as he looks into his eyes.

“You have the same eyes as me,” he boy says with a giggle.

“Aye, I do,” he answers.

This seems to ease the little boy, who reaches out towards him.

And for the first time in years as he holds his son in his arms, and his wife watches on with her arms wrapped around his waist, he once again feels whole.

Chapter Text

She's breathtaking.

He’s frozen, not able to move or react. How is he supposed to approach her? What should he say? What should he do?

Ghost decides for him as the young direwolf escapes his grasp and trots happily towards Daenerys. A small yip from the normally silent beast alerts the Targaryen princess of the direwolf's presence.

She looks down from the balcony her cascading silver hair matching and reflecting the moonlight. A slight tilt of her head reveals confusion and the slight recoil fright. However, soon her features soften and an affectionate look replaces it all as the pup stands on his hind legs attempting to reach her. The giggle she releases makes his heart skip a beat and brings a smile to his face.

He takes a deep breath, summoning all of his courage, and steps out of the shadows to reveal himself to her for the first time.

She startles but a force keeps her eyes on him and recognition forms the moment their eyes meet. Tears of pure joy and emotion flood her bright violet eyes and a hand raises to cover her mouth in an attempt to cover her sobs.

“Dany?” he forms it as a question needing to hear confirmation that this is all real. But he doesn’t get the verbal answer he desires. Instead, an almost imperceptible nod is given and it is enough to impulse him up the balcony.

He has but a second to stand on the balcony before warm arms are wrapped around him in a tight embrace. There’s a moment of shock and hesitation before he returns the embrace but when he does he feels whole, like something that had been missing his entire life had finally been found.

“You are real. You are truly here,” she mutters against his tunic. He pulls away needing to see her face and smiles.

“Aye, I am here and I am real. Just as you are,” he gently runs the pads of his thumbs across her cheeks.

They look into each other’s eyes and before he knows it their lips meet.

It's soft and sweet, even better than in their shared dreams and visions. He feels a jolt, a current 3runs through them both, and their kiss suddenly turns more heated as he backs her up against the closest wall and presses their bodies together, ready to lose himself in her. A yip from below brings him back and reminds him of what he is here to do. Slowly he brings them both back and separates himself from her. They are both breathless, their foreheads resting upon each other.

“Dany, we need to leave,” he reminds her.

She nods in understanding and walks away towards what he assumes is her bedroom. He glances around the ground, making sure Ghost was still present and that no guards are walking nearby. Dany returns soon with two satchels of belongings, one of which she seems to be carrying with some difficulty.

“What is in that bag Dany?” he asks looking at the bulk.

She reaches into the bag and carefully pulls out a large green stone, holding it out towards him. He receives it wondering what is so special about it that she deems it necessary to bring with them. He nearly drops it in shock.

It is warm.

The rock feels warm and upon a closer look scale-like grooves are on the surface and suddenly he begins to realize that this is not a rock.

“Is… is this?” he is unable to voice the question.

“Yes, a dragon egg. Three of them. Illyrio was going to give them to me as a wedding gift, he had them hidden,” she explains.

 “Then how did you find them?” he asks.

“I… I had a dream, a raven showed me where to find them,” she explains, almost shyly.

Before he can answer he hears Ghost yip again, alerting them of an approaching guard.

“We have to leave,” he whispers, handing the egg back to Dany. She nods in agreement and he takes hold of the bag holding the eggs. He carefully climbs back down the balcony and helps her down as well.

Ghost immediately runs to her side and begs for her attention. He smiles at the direwolf’s antics and is glad to see him accept Dany when he had almost rejected any other person’s affection. They silently leave the manse behind and make their way to the docks where thankfully the same ship he arrived in was docked.

“Ah, I see you are back, lad and you brought a friend,” the captain calls out from the deck of the ship, laughing with a bright smile.

“Aye, I have and we’re trying to get out of here quick,” he tells the captain.

“Well you are in luck, we are about to set sail,” he calls back. “Come on board, both of you and that beast of yours,” the man answers.

They board the ship and from the deck watch as the ship pulls out of the harbor. They follow the captain to the quarters he had been previously occupying and asks to speak to him privately. He looks towards Dany to see if she would be alright on her own for a moment leaves Dany and Ghost to get situated before following the captain to his quarters.

“Ser, I don’t have a way to pay you for the trip,” he starts before the door even closes behind him. “But I would be willing to work for pay if the job offer is still available.”

The captain chuckles again.

“Settle down lad. The offer is still there, no need to worry,” the man reassures him. “I’ll offer you a fair wage and let you work for as long as you are on the ship.”

“Thank you, sir,” he answers gratefully.

“Now we're off to Myr, you and your girl could get off there or continue off through the Free Cities before we set sail back North,” the man says.

“No. I’m not returning North. I’ll need to talk to her before I make any decisions as to what to do. But I will let you know,” he responds.

The man nods and he bids his leave. When he arrives at his quarters, he finds Dany fast asleep on the bed, Ghost curled up at her feet. He removes most of his clothing leaving himself in only his undergarments and prepares to sleep on the floor.

A hand reaches out and takes hold of his own.

“Please,” a sleep-filled plea comes from Dany’s mouth.

Somehow he understands what she needs and carefully climbs into the bed with her. Her body immediately presses itself against his own. Her head rests upon his chest and his arms wrap around her as if they were always meant to be this way.

“You are safe now Dany and I promise to always keep you safe,” he vows, pressing a kiss upon the crown of her head.

Soon he too succumbs to sleep and the rock of waves.

Chapter Text

He blinks awake, not recognizing his surroundings.  He attempts to sit up to see where he is but is impeded by a weight laying on his chest. He looks down and sees beautiful silver waves cascading down a familiar figure.

He remembers then.

He is on Dragonstone, back with his beloved wife and his son.

Gods he has a son.

They had spent the rest of the day just the three of them as a family. He had spent hours playing and holding his son. Listening to every word, memorizing every feature, every preference, every mannerism. He had missed so much of his child’s life that he felt he needed to make up for it by spending as much time as possible with him.

The moments when his son slept or was tired of him, he spent talking with Dany.

She told him all about her pregnancy, the delivery during which he almost lost them, the first months of Jae's life, his first words, his first steps. When she noticed his brooding she would change the subject and tell him about her conquests and liberation of the slaves. Her victories, her failures.  How she was rescued by Balerion then left in the Dothraki Sea where she had been picked up by the very Khal Viserys had attempted to sell her to.

She shifts in her sleep and her hand lands right on the scar on his heart.

He sighs.

She wept when she saw the scars. She had grown angry when he told her the tale of what occurred at Castle Black, wanting to go and destroy everyone and everything within it. She had even revealed having heard a wolf howl in pain and sadness that night, followed by Shaggydog’s howls and Rickon’s inexplicable sadness.

But when she had finally laid eyes on them, that rage turned to sadness. She had lost him, a world away from her and their son.

When they made love last night, she had placed special attention on his scars, trying to erase the constant pain he feels from them. And now as he lays here and her fingers brush against one of them, he believes she may have succeeded.

He reaches with his free hand to caress her, needing more proof that she truly is there. But in doing so she begins to stir and soon two violet eyes meet his own.

“Are you here, truly?” she questions seeming just as doubtful as he felt when he awoke.

“Aye, I am, my love,” he assures her, lowering his head to claim her lips.

Last night had not been enough. No matter how many times he lays with her, it will never be enough. If her moans indicate anything it is that she feels the same.

Her leg makes it’s way across his waist, gracing him over his undergarments.

Undergarments? Why had he…

He hears the door of their quarters open and Dany immediately pulls away. Little feet are the next things he hears, pattering across the floor and a different weight soon jumps on his chest. His eyes fly open as little arms wrap around him.

“Papa!” a little voice exclaims. “You are real! You stayed!”

His heart breaks at this as he wraps his arms around the little boy.

“Aye, my boy, and I and not leaving any time soon,” he vows, kissing the top of the silver curls, so like his mother’s and yet like his own.

The lad climbs off of him and buries himself in his mother’s arms.  

“Muña,” the lad sighs in pure contentment.

“Good morning, ñuha zaldrītsos,” Dany coos to their child and he swears he has never seen a sweeter sight.

His face must have shown how much of a lovesick fool he is for Dany chuckles when she looks at him.

“Jae, why don’t you say our morning words to your Kepa,” Dany proposes, and the little boy beams as he turns around to face him again.

“Avy jorrāelan, Kepa!” Jae exclaims.

Those words.

They were one of the first Valaryian words Dany had taught him. But more importantly, they were ones that he took the time to memorize.

I love you.

“Avy jorrāelan,” he says back, causing the lad to giggle.

“You sound funny!”

Dany laughs at this and so does he.

“Aye, that is why your mother stopped trying to teach me,” he teases. “But maybe now that we are together she can start teaching me again.”

“Missandei is a much better teacher if you truly wish to learn,” Dany says and he nods.

“One day I'd like to understand what our children are saying especially when they start cursing my name when they don’t get what the want,” he chuckles.

He’s surprised to see the awe in Dany’s face as if something he has said surprised her.

“What is it?” he asks.

“You said children,” she says.

Before he can answer there is a knock at the door. Missandei enters the room with a soft smile.

“Missy!” Jae exclaims, quickly climbing off the bed and running to embrace the woman from Naarth.

“Good morning my prince,” she answers before looking towards him and Dany. “Good morning Your Graces.”

“Good morning, my friend,” Dany says, rising from the bed and handing him his undershirt knowing how self-conscious he is about his scars.  

He watches as some servants bring in their meals to break their fast. He decides to rise to put on his trousers and lifts his son in the air as his mother speaks to Missandei. The lad begins speaking telling him all about his favorite toys as he sits with him in his lap to begin their meal.

He wishes more than anything to spend another day just as a family but knows he has a meeting this morning bringing together his Northern allies with his Queen’s southern ones.  

Dany soon joins them and they eat their meal together. Far to soon they must ready themselves. A handmaid comes and takes Jae to get ready while Missandei comes to help Dany. One offers to help him but he politely declines.

“What about Jae?” he asks as Missandei does his wife’s hair.

“He usually joins me at the meetings. He is a well-mannered boy and will either sit with me and listen or play quietly in the corner,” Daenerys answers.

He smiles at this, feeling pride at knowing his boy is well behaved. His son joins them again just as Daenerys is finishing up. He looks like a dragon prince regardless of how little he is. His silver hair tied back similar to the way he has his. His outfit is pure black, lined with red. A silver dragon is pinned to his chest and playfulness he had in the morning seemed to vanish and replaced by seriousness beyond his four years. The only things that gives away he is more than just Targaryen are his eyes.

He kneels, fixing the dragon pin.

“Look at you lad, you look just like a Targaryen,” he says.

Jae smiles brightly and stands even straighter at his compliment.

“Jon?” he hears Daenerys call out and he turns his head.

She stands there in full regalia holding what appears to be a piece of armor.

“When I heard you were alive and were coming here to Dragonstone I had this made for you,” she says almost timidly. “I know that while we were together you struggled to find a balance between being a Stark and being a Targaryen. So I had this made to show everyone that you are both. A Stark of Winterfell and a Targaryen of Dragonstone.”

He stands and takes the armor from her.

It is a beautiful silver gorget similar to the one he currently wears. It appears well made and ready to be used. What catches his attention however is what is found in the center of it.

On the center of the plate is the red three-headed dragon of House Targaryen entwined with the snarling direwolf of House Stark. But instead of the direwolf being grey it is white with a ruby embedded in its eye.

“It can be your own personal sigil, showing both your familial lineages. I wanted it in black but believed your Northern men would not appreciate such a dramatic change.  I have more armor being made in case you did like it but if you don’t…”

He cuts her off with a kiss.  

“It is perfect, Dany. Thank you,” he mutters against her lips.

A tug on his clothing truly separates them as Jae brings them to attention.

“Put it on Kepa,” their son begs excitedly.

He removes the gorget he wears and places the new one on. A surge of power goes through him when it is finally in place. Both Dany and Jae smile at him and he offers his arm to his wife.

“My Queen,” he says with a smile that grows when she places her hand on him.

“My King.”

With his free hand, he holds onto Jae's smaller one and walks to the map room as a family.

He tries to keep his awe in check as they enter the very room their ancestors used to plan their conquest of Westeros. The legendary table divided the two camps of allies, the North on the right and the South on the left. The North is glaring daggers at the Greyjoys and he tries to keep his composure but as they enter the room the attention turns to him and his family. The Southerners immediately stand and the Northerners take a moment more before doing the same. The eyes of the South are on him and the eyes of the North are on his son. He guides his family to where they are meant to sit. He pulls Daenerys's chair out letting her sit before following suit on her left. Jae surprises him by asking to sit on his lap which he allows and soon their allies all sit as well.

“Shall we begin?” his wife asks, making everyone sit even straighter.

“I believe formal introductions need to be said,” he starts.

“It is quite obvious who you are, Your Grace,” an older woman says looking at him. “You may have your mother’s coloring but how no one recognized Rhaegar in you I am not sure.”

“My King, this is Lady Olenna Tyrell. Next to her is Arianna Martell, ruler of Dorne, and Yara Greyjoy ruler of the Iron Islands,” Daenerys begins. “You know my Hand Lord Barristan, Harry Strickland, Greyworm, and my blood rider Rhakro.”

He nods towards them before turning towards his company and introduces them likewise. When he finishes Lord Glover stands, seeming to longer be able to keep his anger in check.

“My King, your Grace,” he says addressing both him and Daenerys. “I cannot stand one more moment in this room with those… those…”

Yara Greyjoy stands as well slamming her hands on the table while Theon cowers.

“Say it! Say it!” she demands. “We Ironborn know all the slurs, all the names you all call us. For years we’ve been no more than dirt and rodents to you all!”

“You all are nothing more than reaping pillagers!” Glover yells 

“You gave our people no choice!” Yara yells back. “We live on rocks! We can grow no food, maintain no livestock! My father rebelled yes, but you all supported that Baratheon pig and plundered through our towns, raping and killing whoever stood in your way! We have been left with no option but to reap!”

“And what of the North? Lord Stark raised that coward…”

“Raised? My brother may have been called a ward but he was a prisoner!”

“He betrayed King Robb!” Lord Manderly chimes in, standing as well.

“Enough!” he commands. “All of you sit down.”

The Northern Lords follow but Yara stands defiant.

“I pledged myself to Queen Daenerys, not to you,” she says.

“A pledge to myself is a pledge to my husband. If either one of us gives a command I expect it to be followed regardless of whom says it,” Daenerys is quick to answer, looking around the room. “This arguing, this yelling is doing nothing.”

She looks directly at the Northern Lords.

“I know what they did. I know of the vows broken, of the deaths caused. For months I sat at Lord Rickon’s beside as he had nightmares of the events, as he wept for those killed. However if we all judged ourselves on our worst moments we would all be dead,” she says. “They have pledged, one they will be held to in perpetuity. The Ironborn will no longer reap or plunder the mainland in exchange for some land to farm and help to defeat their Uncle.”

“We can’t trust them! I apologize, Your Grace, Lord Stark may have told you what he saw but you were not there to witness what occurred,” Lord Royce voices.

“But I was,” he reminds them. “I arrived the day the Ironborn reached Winterfell. I saw them take the castle, execute Ser Rodrick, force my brothers to flee and kill and burn two innocent boys. Then I saw the Ironborn betray Theon, leaving him for the Boltons and killing Maester Luwin. I saw it all.”

Somehow Theon becomes even paler.

“If anyone should be demanding his head it should be me or Rickon,” he says looking at Theon. “Your actions led to the death of Robb and many of the Northern Lords and Ladies. But you paid the price of your treachery at the hands of Ramsay Bolton.”

Theon flinches at the mere mention of that man.

“And then you saved Sansa from that monster. You helped her escape and gave her the opportunity to make her way to the Wall when no one else dared to,” he glares at the other Lords before turning to look at the Rickon.

“As Lord of Winterfell and head of House Stark you have the last word of this Rickon,” he says and all eyes turn to the young lad.

Rickon stares at Theon before turning to the Northern Lords.

“Many were at fault for what happened in the North. My brother for trusting Theon, my Mother trusting a Lannister, and above all my Father for leaving his family and going South to serve his treacherous friend,” Rickon says.

“My Lord, your Lord Father…” Glover starts.

“Chose his friend over his family. My mother chose Robb over Bran and me who truly needed her. Maester Luwin, Jon and Daenerys were more parents than they were,” he says surprising both him and Dany. “And for that reason, I cannot blame Theon fully for what happened in the North and let Queen Daenerys and my brother decide his fate.”

The Northern Lords look gobsmacked as he once again takes control of the matter.

“My wife has made a deal with you, Theon. My brother seems to have forgiven you, and I will let you live as long as another betrayal will not occur.”

“We need to move on. I was once told the saying that if I looked back I would be lost. If we keep looking to the past finding wrongs each and every one of us has done to the other, these wars, this fighting will never end,” Dany speaks. “We all need to move on and band together for the realm to survive.”

The room stays silent for a moment, everyone seeming to take everything in. He somehow had forgotten Jae was in his lap until the lad takes hold of his hand and begins to draw circles on the back of it with his small fingers.

“The Queen is right,” Lady Lyanna speaks. “We must move forward,” she turns to look at Theon. “But be warned, the North remembers.”

Theon nods and the attention once again returns to the painted table.

“The first thing that needs to be done for the good of the realm is the removal of Cersei Lannister,” Dany says.

Grunts and words of agreement are voiced throughout the room. Ser Barristan stands and lays out the plan for all to hear.

“Lord Royce, my Hand has told me you are a man of great strategy prowess. And you Lord Manderly know the waves of the Narrow Sea better than most. Is there anything you see that may improve our chances and reduce the amount of blood spilled?” Daenerys asks.

Lord Royce appears to be deep in thought as he takes in every aspect of the map before them.

“Besides Dragonstone the one place you must protect is Highgarden. Right now you hold the reach and all the food of the realm. You need more men protecting that keep, because, without offending Lady Tyrell, the Reach forces have never been the best soldiers,” the Knight of the Vale answers.

“He is right. Our men are worthless when it comes to war. If the Lannister forces do come to Highgarden they will quickly dispose of our men and take our harvest and gold,” Olenna concedes.

“The Reach is complete open fields,” he adds standing with Jae in his arms. “instead of keeping your Dothraki in the woods surrounding Kings Landing, send them to the Reach where they can easily decimate any opponent.”

The Dothraki blood rider seems pleased with the plan. It must be quite a sight for the Northerners to see him holding a child. For their eyes so not leave his son eve as he takes a seat again.

“And Euron's fleet?” Daenerys asks.

Lord Manderly and Yara glare at each other seeming to be daring the other to speak.

“My Uncle’s numbers and forces are larger than our own. And his ship is one of the most dreaded in the sea,” Yara admits.

“She speaks the truth. I don’t have the manpower at White Harbor to man enough ships to make a difference,” Lord Manderly concedes.

“Then what options do we have?” he asks.

“My Queen, if you knew where ships are you could deal with them as you did the masters,” Greyworm says.

“What did you do to the masters, your Grace?” Lyanna asks.

Daenerys sighs.

“I tried to make peace with them. Let them keep their homes, their wealth, even allowed them to continue their fighting pits even though I hated them. The only thing they could no longer do was own and sell slaves. But they attacked constantly, trying to kill me and my people to bring things back to the way they were,” Dany begins to explain. “I was out of the city when the masters of all the cities of Slaver's Bay came together to attack it. Their ships sent tar-covered projectiles into the city, inside they would kill anyone in the streets, men, women, children…”

He glances around and sees anger in many within the room.

“I allowed them to surrender but they refused. So I burned their ships with my dragons,” his wife reveals.

“But there is no way to know exactly where Euron Greyjoy is at the moment,” Arianne says.

“Your Grace,” Lord Manderly speaks to him. “perhaps Lord Brandon may be able to provide the location.”

“And how would the young Stark know where the ships are?” Lady Olenna asks.

He takes a deep breath.

“My brother has a gift of sight. He can see things from the past and present. He could see where Euron is and let us know,” he explains.

“Then we send him a raven,” Daenerys says and he nods in agreement. “Once Euron is taken care of we proceed with the blockade.”

Almost everyone agrees to this, everyone but Ser Davos which his wife is quick to notice.

“Ser Davos, do you not approve of the blockade?” Daenerys asks.

“I’ve been on the receiving end of a blockade, your Grace. I saw people starving to death daily,” Davos shakes his head at the memory. “Children dying in the arms of their parents. People being forced to feed inexplicable things to their loved ones in an attempt to survive. Stannis starved along with his people but I assure you Cersei Lannister will not. And she will not miss an opportunity to tell the people of Kings Landing that their suffering is because of you. Why not go ahead and attack the city?”

Everyone looks to Daenerys waiting to see her response.

“Cersei Lannister used wildfire to burn down the Sept Baylor. We fear that if a full assault occurs she may use it to destroy the city And everyone in it,” she reveals.

“What if we use the same technique we used in Essos? Sneak men and provisions into the city. Tell people they are from you both and convince them to rise against Cersei?” Harry suggests.

“We would need a good smuggler to do that,” Yara points out.

He turns to Ser Davos and realizes many who lived through the Rebellion also do as well.

“I would be able to do it Your Graces,” the older man says. “I know Flea Bottom. I know the ins and outside of the city.”

He and Dany share a look and come to the same understanding.

“Very well. We will continue this planning once we receive word from Lord Brandon Stark. In the meantime we send the Dothraki to the Reach and protect Highgarden,” he announces.

More things are discussed regarding what the Vale, North, Dorne and Reach need during which Jae takes a small break to play quietly with his toys. Daenerys agrees to take Lord Royce on Balerion to visit Lord Arryn. He is grateful his Lords remembered not to mention the threat beyond the Wall, all of them falling into an agreement that men from all Seven Kingdoms would be better odds than just Northern and Vale Men. However, he does mention the need to mine dragonglass which his wife agrees to no questions asked.

Soon the Southerners prepare to leave but before they do he needs to ask one more thing.

“Princess Arianne,” he calls out as she moves to stand.

“Yes Your Grace?” she answers.

“May I have a private audience with you?” he can see the question in her gaze. “Besides Ser Barristan you are the only one who could tell me more about my siblings.”

A sadness moves on her features as she recalls his relation with her butchered cousins.

“Of course your Grace,” the Princess of Dorne answers before leaving the room.

Daenerys stands and the remaining Lords doing the same.

“I must go talk with my men,” she says, turning behind them. “Jae, do you wish to come with me or stay with your Kepa?”

Their boy stands his small figurine in hand and climbs onto his lap, resting his head upon his shoulder.

“Kepa,” he sighs out.

Dany gives him a look asking if he’s alright with this and with a nod he agrees. She bids farewell to the Lords, placing a kiss upon his cheek and Jae’s head and leaves the room.

His companions look towards him, most smiling at his son.

“The lad seems to have taken to you immediately my King,” Lyanna says.

“Aye, thankfully he did,” he answers. “His mother told him stories about me as he grew as did Rickon.”

“And thankfully he looks like you,” Manderly says, making him look up suspiciously at him.

“My Lord?”

“My apologies I meant no offense but,” the Lord of White Harbor starts.

“Lord Stark once said anything before the word ‘but’ is…” he does not finish the sentence not wanting Jae to repeat the words.

“The North would have a hard time believing he is your son even if you claimed she was pregnant when you left. The lad has Stark eyes and your features which will help,” Manderly explains.

He wants to be angry, but he knows it is true. He and Dany had addressed this yesterday and both agreed to renew their vows when Kings Landing is under their control. He hears something fall to the ground and realizes Jae has fallen asleep and dropped his dragon figurine.

“My Lords and Lady. I will see you all for tonight’s feast I am going to take this lad to his bed for his mid-day rest. Rickon, would you mind leading me there, the halls still confuse me,” he asks.

“Of course, Jon,” the young lord accepts and stands with him.

He leaves the room giving Ser Davos a look ordering him to keep an eye on the others. He walks in silence to Jae’s room following Rickon. When they arrive Rickon turns to leave but he stops him for a moment.

“We need to talk Rickon.”

The lad nods before leaving and he enters the room walking straight to Jae’s bed. He begins to lower him but the little hands grasp onto him.

“No leave, Papa,” he mumbles still mostly asleep.

Instead, he climbs into the little bed and holds his son tight, somehow falling asleep with his boy sleeping on his chest.

Chapter Text

He groans, every muscle in his body screaming how exhausted it feels. Even after moons of training, he still feels the soreness of wielding a blade for hours and the blows received. He had assumed the training he had received at Winterfell would have helped him but all that seemed like child’s play when training and eventually fighting with his new brothers. His uncle had decided to send him to the Watch to become a sworn brother in black. He had joined a brotherhood. However instead of wearing black he wore gold. He may not have been born a bastard but he had been raised one and now he had found a place formed by bastards, the most famous being the Blackfyres.

The Golden Company.

He had not planned on joining the mercenary group upon their arrival at Myr, however, a familiar raven had led him to their camp where he had met Harry Strickland, the leader of the Golden Company.  As they spoke a mercenary from a rivaling sellsword group attacked the Captain and he had saved the man’s life from the unforeseen attack. The Captain was so grateful he offered him entry into the company and almost a right-hand position to him. After discussing it with Dany he agreed and became a member of the Golden Company. So, in the end, his uncle got what he wanted, he swore vows tying him to a brotherhood full of bastards, just not the one he wanted.

He smiles at the thought.

“Ah a rare Snow smile, what brings forth such a sight? Would it perhaps be my ‘aunt’ waiting for you at home?” the young man beside him teases and he can’t help but shove the man.

“Shut it Griff!” he laughs.

He had met the young man when he had joined the Golden company and as they got to know each other, Griff revealed the plot of his former caretaker to have him pretend to be Aegon Targaryen and take the Iron Throne. He had dismissed his caretaker and refused to follow the ruse and became a full member of the Golden Company. He in turn had revealed both to Griff and Harry who he truly was and who Dany was. Since then Griff teased Dany by calling her his aunt and calling him brother.

“Seriously Snow, when are you going to make my aunt an honest woman? You have been together what six, seven moons?”

He sighs. It has felt longer than that. Every time he thinks about Dany he feels he has known her his entire life.

“Aye, just about,” he agrees.

“I would threaten to woo her away from you if we both did not know she only had eyes for you.”

They both laugh at that. They may have not said the words, at least in front of a Sept or Heart Tree, but they may as well be married.

“I love her Griff and she deserves a large wedding. Something worthy of the princess she is,” he explains.

“Then do it! I am sure the men would help and be glad to attend!” Griff says excitedly.

“There are no Weirwood trees, no Septs…”

“We could get a Red Priestess,” the silver-haired man says.

He stops for a moment, looking at the man next to him and is surprised by the amount of eagerness the man has.

“I will talk to Daenerys about it,” he concedes.

Griff practically beams as he is told this.

“I will find a priestess!” he exclaims before turning to run off.

“Griff! GRIFF!” he shouts after the man but quickly loses him in the crowd.

He shakes his head and continues to walk through the streets to return to the place he has called home since their arrival. He greets the vendors and smiles at the children that roam and play without a care in the world. Soon he arrives at the small house he purchased with the money the captain had paid him while sailing and cannot help but smile at the bright red door. 

It had been one of her nightly confessions as they laid in each other’s arms, revealing to him how much she yearned for a home and that the only place she ever felt that way was in a childhood house where a lemon tree grew and a red door marked the entrance.

The first thing he did after purchasing this small house was to paint the door red.

He enters the threshold and is immediately assaulted by a mass of white fur which knocks him onto his back causing a loud groan to come out.

“Ghost! Off, you silly beast!” he sputters out as the direwolf refuses to cease the licking of his face.

It had been a fortnight since he had been away on a side contract the Company had received and this beast acted as if he had been gone years. It isn’t until some familiar footsteps approach and a sweet voice speaks that the direwolf finally releases him. He opens his eyes after wiping the direwolf’s slobber off and sees her.

“Dany,” he sighs and smiles at her giggle. She extends her hand to help him stand and as soon as he does he pulls her towards him and holds her tight.

“Jon,” she sighs.

“I missed you,” he says kissing the side of her neck before she immediately pulls away to give him a look over.

She immediately notices a new scar upon his face, a sword narrowly missing his eye. He grimaces as he thumb runs across it.

“Thank Griff. He managed to get to me on time before it could get worse,” he whispers.

He sees the worry and fear in her eyes and takes her hand, placing a kiss upon it.

“I am alright, love, I truly am,” he assures her.

She kisses him, both forgetting about all else and just needing to be as close as possible. Not caring for the soreness of his muscles, he lifts her in his arms and carries her to their shared bed, both groaning as he places her on top it and climbs above her.

They know their wants, their needs, every pleasurable spot of their bodies and yet they have not taken the final step.

He is terrified to do so. He is sure back at Winterfell both Robb and Theon would tease him endlessly about having a beautiful woman in his bed and not being able to “stick it in". But just the memory of Lady Stark’s cruelty, the way children mocked him growing up, stayed clear of him, the way every lady presented to Robb would reject him and deem him the embodiment of sin.

He knows a child between them would never go through that. That he or she would have the unconditional love from him and Dany. That their child would have a name to carry. Yes he and Dany had pledged themselves to each other, they were bonded beyond what a ceremony could perform. But to many it wouldn’t manner. Without a ceremony, without an official, their child would be considered a bastard.

And he couldn’t live with that.   

“You are brooding,” she says breathlessly.

“Aye,” he thrusts against her making them both moan. “I tend to do that.”

He tries to push past this but he feels her hand gently stop his hips.

“What is it?” she asks and he knows he won’t be able to move on.

“Griff…” he starts and sees her roll her eyes.

“Just moments ago I was thanking the man because he saved your life, now part of me wants to curse him for ruining this” she gestures between their bodies, “with whatever he told you.”

He chuckles as he carefully rolls to the side and pulls her close to him, taking a moment to settle down.

“He just asked me when I was going to make you an honest woman,” he reveals.

She tenses next to him and lifts herself to look directly into his eyes.

“Jon I love you. I don’t need…”

“But I do,” he interrupts. “I want to call you my wife. I want our children to never have to face the contempt I went through. You will love them, I will love them but others… they will condemn them.”

She sighs, laying her head upon his chest and wrapping her arms around him.

“Married or not our children will be condemned. They will be Targaryens even if you never claim the name. They will be a threat to the Usurper just as I am,” she says, coldly. “He may not yet found me but it is a matter of time before the assassins come again.”

“He will never hurt you Dany,” he vows.

“I want to believe you, truly. But you are not always here. Even now Viserys is most likely looking for me he’ll try to take me back and marry me off,” she says and he holds her even tighter.

“Marry me. Let me give you our name, let me take you under my protection, give you a life where neither Viserys nor Robert Baratheon can hurt you or take you without facing the wrath of the gods themselves,” he begs.

“Jon…”

He kisses her.

“Marry me,” he says before kissing her again.

“Mmm,” she moans into another kiss.

“Marry me,” he whispers again feeling her climbing on top of him.

“I….”

“JON, I FOUND A PRIESTESS!” a voice calls out pounding on the door.  

He curses and Dany sits up raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“A priestess?” she asks.

“He left before I could stop him,” he explains. “I told him that I would talk to you about it. Giving you a proper wedding, one you deserve. I did not believe he would find one and bring her here so soon. I will go get rid of him,” he offers and prepares to stand but Dany pushes him back onto the bed.  

She takes a deep breath, looking into his eyes and ignoring the annoying voice of Griff coming from the door.

“I love you. I have loved you since we began to share our dreams. And I am sure I will love you for the rest of our days,” she says caressing his face. “Yes, Jaehaerys ‘Jon’ Targaryen, I will become your wife.”

He feels like he is going to burst in pure happiness as he crushes his lips against hers.  But once again the banging at the door and the annoying voice breaks them apart. But his smile never leaves his face as he rests his forehead against her own.

“I love you, Dany. More than anything. Now let me get rid of this idiot and we can spend more time together, hmm?” he asks, and she nods.

He kisses her one last time before getting out of bed and going to the door. The annoying man has a smirk on his face as he leans against the doorframe.

“Did I interrupt something?” Griff asks his eyebrows wagging.

He is ready to punch the man but he catches sight of a woman in red and stops himself.

“My lady,” he says with a slight bow of respect.

“There is no need to bow Jaehaerys Targaryen, a dragon bows to no one,” she says.

He tenses at the sound of his real and immediately glares at Griff. The man looks just as shocked and confused as he is and looks about ready to pull out his blade to attack the priestess.

“Your Blackfyre friend did not tell me anything regarding your identity or that of your aunt,” the woman says with a smirk.

“B…Blackfyre? What are you talking about?” Griff stammers and the priestess looks at him almost with amusement.

“You were raised to pretend to be Aegon Targaryen, but you were born from one of the last remnants of the Blackfyre line from your mother’s side,” she answers.

“Who are you,” he finally asks.

“My name is Kinvara, Priestess of the Temple of R’hllor,” she answers. “And I am here to marry you and Daenerys Targaryen.”

He shares a look with Griff and he seems just as suspicious as he feels.

“Look I don’t know where you got your information or what exactly Griff told you,” he starts.

“I didn’t…” Griff starts

“He only told me he needed a priestess to marry two of his friends,” Kinvara assures him.

“I told Griff I was going to ask,” he tries to explain.

“And she told you yes,” she says stopping him short.

“How….”

“The Lord of Light shows me visions, lets me and his other followers know where we need to be and he showed me a vision of me marrying the last two Targaryens, which is why I am here,” Kinvara answers.

He’s not sure how to answer, what to do, what to believe. This priestess both puts him on edge and brings him some peace.

“Do not worry Jaehaerys, I will not reveal what I know or do anything to put you or your betrothed in any danger. I am here to serve you and the Lord of Light,” she reassures him.

He nods and decides this conversation needs to continue but inside his home, away from prying ears. He opens the door and allows the priestess to enter and Griff is quick to follow. Inside he’s surprised to see a nonhostile Ghost staring at the Red Priestess.

“An interesting beast. His outside showing Ice, his eyes showing fire, just like his master,” Kinvara says as Dany enters the room. The priestess bows. “Your Grace,” she says almost humbly.

Daenerys immediately turns to him looking for answers.

“Jon?”

“She is the Red Priestess Griff found. Somehow she knows who we are, who we really are,” he sees Dany’s eyes widen in concern and he immediately tries to reassure her. “She claims she is meant to marry us and that is it.”

The priestess nods her head but appears wanting to say something more but instead decides to keep quiet. Her eyes however drift to the hearth where Dany has the dragon eggs resting. Both him and Dany share a look fearing what would happen.

The priestess just smiles before turning to look at him.

“When do you wish to marry?” she asks.

He prepares himself to let her know they need to talk about it when Daenerys answers.

“A sennight,” his love answers surprising him. 

“Are… are you sure Dany?” he asks, walking to her side and taking her hand.

“I am,” she answers. “I am done waiting Jaehaerys.”

Hearing his actual name ignites something within him. He feels his blood boiling and something inside demands he carry her into their room immediately. But clearing of a throat stops him, and a glance reveals it to come from Griff. Both he and Dany turn to look at the Priestess who only has a smile on her face.

“Very well. I will send a messenger with instructions on how to prepare for the ceremony. I assume you will like it to be in the camp of the Golden Company, correct?” Kinvara asks.

Both he and Dany nod, his blood still demanding him to take her to their room.

“Young Griff would you escort me back to my inn, there is much you and I must discuss,” Kinvara asks.

“Yes my lady,” Griff answers before the red priestess walks out of their home. Griff takes a moment to look at them. “I will try to find out more about her.”

He nods to Griff and thankfully he leaves.

As soon as the door closes he crashes his lips against hers,  pressing her against the closest wall.

“My name,” he pants, ripping the laces of her dress.

“What?” she asks, breathlessly and.

“Say my name,” he groans as her hands undo the laces of his trousers.

“Jon,” she moans as they’re both laid bare from the waist down. He thrust against her, feeling her heat against him.

“My name Dany,” he groans. “My real name.”

It is getting harder to think and he can tell she feels the same.

“J…Jae…” she moans as she keeps rubbing against him.

“Say it, love. I need you to say it,” he demands and he feels her fall apart in his arms with his name on her lips.

“Jaehaerys,” she exclaims as she comes in his arms.

He follows as soon as his name escapes her lips. He kisses her trying to settle his heart and hers. He does not say a word nor does she, their eyes speaking volumes to each other. He carries her to their bed, removing what remains of their clothing and simply lay there in each other’s arms. Soon her breathing settles and he knows she has fallen asleep.

“I love you, Dany,” he says into her ear before following her into sleep.

Chapter Text

He sits out on the green cliffs of Dragonstone, watching Jae playing with Rickon and the Direwolves. Dany is meeting with the Northern Lords one on one and he had just finished meeting with Arianne Martell.

He sighs.

Hearing about his siblings, his real siblings, caused a pain in his heart. Hearing about how they looked, how his older sister behaved, her sweetness, her innocence. Arianne had not missed the opportunity to remind him how they were butchered at the hand of the Mountain and he had vehemently agreed that they deserved justice. But he could not help but wonder what his life may have been had his Father won the Rebellion.  What kind of relationship he would have had with his siblings? Would it have been like him and Robb? Him and Arya? He knows there is no good in having these thoughts but he does nonetheless.

He could have been best friends with Aegon, played, and fought with him as equals. He could have had a true sister in Rhaenys, someone he could go to when he had problems. Maybe he could have had more siblings younger than him who would have looked up to him and he could have held and been near in a way he was never allowed to be with the Starks.

His thoughts then turn to Dany.

He and Dany would have grown up together in the Red Keep or Dragonstone. They would have been practically twins and he is sure they would have fallen in love even sooner than they had. He would have courted her as she deserved and would have asked his father’s blessing before asking for her hand. His father would have announced their betrothal and all the lords and ladies of the realm would have borne witness of their union.  Jae might have not been their only child right now; a couple more children silver in hair or violet in eyes, or maybe a few with his coloring as well. He would have been at every significant moment in their lives, not missing a single one for any reason in the world.

He sighs again.

“What a sight! The mighty Jon Snow turned into a full-pledged Papa!” he hears a familiar voice call out behind him.

He turns and sees a familiar silver-headed man, immediately standing to embrace him.

“Griff,” he laughs patting the man’s back.

“Your Grace,” Griff teases before he shoves him, both laughing.

“It is good to see you,” he says.

“It is good to see you too,” Griff answers with a smile. “Nearly five years and you are finally back with them!”

“Griff….” He tries to start but the Blackfyre interrupts.

“No. Do not try it.”

“I need to thank you…”

“No, you do not. Watching over your family was the greatest honor you could have given me. It showed me you trusted me,” Griff says.

“I trusted you with the most important people in my life Griff. I will always be grateful for you taking care of them.”

They hear very loud laughter near the cliff and watch as Jae somehow manages to climb on Ghost and ride him around.

“He is an amazing little guy, knew it from the moment Daenerys finally allowed me to hold him. It was seeing another Jon Snow, brooding and all,” Griff says with a chuckle.

“Any luck on claiming a dragon?” he asks holding back his laughter knowing full well the answer. A blush forms on the man’s face as he looks anywhere but upon his face.

“No need to rub it in Snow. I thought it was going well until Jae was born. When that happened the dragon refused to leave the boy’s side until he was too large to fit indoors. Still had hope until he knocked me on my ass and nearly burned me when I tried to climb on him.”

They both laugh at Griff's comment as they continue to watch Jae play. Rickon looks up towards them and seems to understand that it was time for them to speak.

“Thank you for watching him. I hate to leave his side for even a minute but I need to talk alone with my brother,” he explains.

Griff sighs and shakes his head.

“That boy, truly a wild one,” Griff says as they turn to look at each other. “Dany did her best raising him, giving him the same love and attention she gave Jae.  Rickon now loves her just as any child would love their mother, has even slipped and called her such once and a while.”

“But?” he presses, hearing the unspoken word.

“But now he is full of resentment and hatred towards his family. To him they all abandoned him, showed they did not care for him or his brother,” Griff responds.

“They loved him, Griff,” he sighs out.

“And your parents also loved you, and Connington loved me but how long did it take for us to accept that?” Griff asks. He hangs his head in shame knowing Griff is right and looks towards Rickon. “Emotions are irrational but valid. Right now in his young mind he believes and feels these things and I am not sure you talking will change him.”

He smiles at the Blackfyre.

“You have grown Griff,” he points out and another blush forms on the man’s face followed with a smile.

“Had to. I swore my life to protect you, Daenerys, and especially the little guy. I am his sworn sword until my dying day and I will be the best I can for him,” Griff vows and he embraces him.

“Thank you, Griff,” he mutters.

“Do not thank me just yet. I might just take him and ride around the Seven Kingdoms like Egg and Duncan, making our own stories of legend,” Griff teases and he has to laugh.

“I wish you luck trying to get that past his mother,” he teases back as both Rickon and Jae approach them, his son still on top of Ghost.

“There are our little prince and Lord of Winterfell,” Griff says with a bow, causing Jae to giggle and Rickon to scowl.

“We need to talk Rickon,” he says looking at his brother, who simply nods.

“No!” Jae exclaims, quickly climbing off of Ghost and grasping onto his leg. “You said you no leave.”

His heart breaks as he picks up his son and holds him close.

“No, my boy. I will be right back, I just need to talk with your Uncle Rickon for a few minutes and will be right back. Griff and Ghost will be right here with you,” he tries to reassure him as a roar pierces the skies and the ground trembles as Viserion lands on the cliff.

“And Vis?” Jae asks, suddenly much more accepting of his departure.

“Yes and Viserion,” he says looking towards the youngest of his dragon children. “Watch over him alright?”

The dragon lets out a roar as he lowers Jae onto the ground. Jae immediately takes hold of Ghost’s fur and pulls him along towards Viserion. Griff bows his head before following the beast and child.

Rickon follows him back towards the castle where he sees Lord Glover and Lord Manderly looking towards the cliff where Griff and Jae are.

“It is good to see you with your son, your Grace,” Manderly says with a bow.

He nods in appreciation but sees something in Lord Glover’s eyes.

“Have you something to say, Lord Glover?” he asks.

“Aye and I am sure we are all thinking it,” Glover starts, trying his best to hide his nerves. “Are you sure the lad is yours? The lad looks Valaryian, that man down there with him is very close to the boy.”

He clenches his fists, holding his fury at bay.

“If I recall we addressed that already. Lest you forget I am half Targaryen Lord Glover and my son has my eyes and features. That man down there is almost a brother to me. He fought at my side, saved my life more than once, and has protected my family since I returned to Westeros. He swore his life to the Kingsguard and has sworn his sword to my son,” he tells the man. “And if I hear any more doubt about my son and my wife you will learn about my temper and get acquainted with both dragons and direwolves. Now if you would excuse me I need to speak with my brother, your liege lord.”

He dismisses them and marches towards his empty solar.

He had been assigned some private quarters upon his arrival, close to where the Northern lords were given theirs. However, he has not used them since his arrival, preferring to share his wife’s quarters.

He gestures towards a seat at the desk in the room which Rickon quickly sits in. He sees a pitcher and a pair of cups at a nearby table and a note beside them.

I had Missandei bring you some ale, I thought you may need it for your conversation. Please be easy on him. -Dany

He smiles at his wife’s thoughtfulness and fills both cups with the Northern Ale Lord Manderly had insisted to bring with them. He hands one to Rickon who takes a sip of it and immediately starts coughing.

“Easy, northern ale tends to be stronger than wine. As Lord of Winterfell you best get used to it,” he says with a chuckle taking his seat across his brother.

The youngest Stark does not even look at him, instead, focusing on the contents of his cup. He takes the opportunity to truly look at Rickon and what he sees shakes him. 

He is just a boy.

Somehow through everything, he seems to have forgotten that simple fact. Rickon is a boy no more than ten, just six name days older than his own child. Sure he had sounded mature when speaking to the Lords, but that must have been due to his lessons with Missandei and Dany. He had not attended the meeting today nor had he sat down with the Northern Lords who requested a meeting. Instead, the lad seemed to prefer spending his day playing with Jaehaerys.

Looking back, Rickon had just begun to follow him and his siblings around when he had left Winterfell to journey to Essos and had barely recognized him when he rescued him and Bran from the Greyjoys and Boltons.

Did he even remember his parents? His siblings?

He struggled to recall Lord Stark’s face each time he went down to the crypts. Robb's was becoming harder to remember as well. And there is no point in him trying to remember Lady Stark’s face.

However, he was nearly a man grown when he saw them last, had spent his lifetime looking upon those faces. But this lad had not.  He had only been three or maybe four name days old when Lord Stark had left Winterfell and the same with his oldest siblings and mother. Since then he had no one, just Bran, Maester Luwin, and for a brief period himself. The lad had been abandoned by his family and sent across the sea.

If there had been a consistent face in Rickon's life it had been Dany’s.

“Rickon,” he calls out, emotion in his voice. His brother thankfully looks up at him. “How are you Rickon? Truly?”

The boy simply shrugs.

“Have you been happy? With Dany and Jae?” he asks and suddenly his face lights up.

“Aye! Dany is great and playing with Jae is fun! I love being with them, she has taken good care of me,” Rickon answers.

He sighs.

“I am sorry Rickon, for not being there for you,” he says. “I also want to apologize for your parents, for Robb, for them not being there for you and Bran either.”

“That’s not your fault,” the boy mutters.

“I know but I just need you to know that although you may not remember them they all loved you very much. You were the baby of the family and you were beloved by everyone at Winterfell,” he reassures him.

“I don’t remember them. I know you look like Father but I don’t remember how he or Mother looked like. They left us,” Rickon says sadly, tears filling his young eyes.

He cannot stop himself as he makes his way around the table, kneels in front of Rickon, and wraps his arms around his small body.

“It's alright. I may not be them, but I am here now and Dany has been with you through all this,” he practically coos.

“I do not want to go North. I do not want to be Lord of Winterfell and be far away from you and Dany,” Rickon cries into his shoulder.

“Shh,” he says as he rubs the lads back in an attempt to calm him. He realizes how much he had put upon his shoulders just by handing him a title and what that would mean to a boy his age. He was the third son, the last born of five children. He was never meant to have the title of Lord of Winterfell.

“Don’t make me leave, Jon,” Rickon sobs.

He makes up his mind then and there, gently pulling away to look at him in the eyes.

“You won’t. Dany and I can tell the Lords you will be fostered with us until you are closer at being of age,” he says. “You can learn about the North from me and a Maester, maybe a lord of the north can join us at Kings Landing. But you will not have to leave our side just yet.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Chapter Text

He feels the warmth of Myr, wakes him from his sleep, and not for the first time does he think it may be years before he grows used to this gods forsaken heat.

He may be a dragon but the blood of the Kings of Winter also runs through his veins making this temperature nearly unbearable. Dany is different though. She is a full dragon, her body craving the heat and emitting it constantly. Not even the flames that they jumped through at their wedding affected his wife.

His wife.

Daenerys Targaryen was his wife.  

He smiles at that alone. Not even a moon has passed since they were joined in matrimony through the religion of the Red God of Volantis. His men, his arm brothers, had all been present, cheering them on and enjoying the celebration with them. The Red Priestess appeared beyond content having married them almost in awe as the flames rose even higher than normal the moment they sealed their vow. He may not believe in that god but he cannot deny he felt something powerful and special surrounding them that night.

And that night and all the ones after have been the greatest experiences of his life.

He stretches expecting the feel the familiar softness of his wife’s skin but instead finds an empty spot. His eyes snap open and he sits up looking around the room. It is empty except for the small meal waiting for him on the table. He stands grabbing his underclothes and putting them on as he walks towards the food. He sees a small note next to his plate and after reading learns that his wife took his direwolf and went to market.

He is on his second bite when someone bangs on the door.

“Jon! Jon! You have to come quick!” he hears Griff’s voice call out.

He quickly dresses and rushes to the door. Upon opening it he sees an out of breath Blackfyre staring at him.

“Griff? What is it?” he asks.

“Harry… Harry said you needed to come immediately,” his friend pants.

He follows the man to the camp and finds his commander pacing in his tent.

“Harry? What is going on?” he asks wondering what has caused his usually composed commander to look nearly panic.

“A boy came to camp, looking to deliver a message to Connington. We did not tell him he was no longer a member so the boy handed it to us,” the Commander says handing him the note.

It is time to begin our move. Assasins have been sent to kill the Princess and her unknown lover. It is a perfect opportunity for our King to save his future bride. -The Spider

He crumbles the note in his hand, feeling his blood boil.

“I also heard rumors of Viserys traveling throughout the ports looking for Daenerys,” Harry adds.

“Do they know where we are?” he asks.

“I do not know. But it may be best for you both to come to stay in camp. It would be harder for her brother and for assassins to get in here,” Harry suggested.

Before he can respond, he hears it, a howl that makes fear and dread seep deep into his soul.

He runs towards the edges of the camp, being followed and watched by everyone as they too heard the howl. He finds his loyal companion there almost desperate to have him follow. But what becomes immediately obvious is that missing by the beast’s side is his wife.

“Ghost? Where is she boy?” he asks as he feels many men looking at them.

His faithful direwolf whimpers in distress and turns towards the city, looking desperate to run. Some reigns are handed to him and as soon as he climbs on the horse, Ghost takes off. He is quick to follow and even realizes that some of his brothers have joined him.

Soon they arrive at their home and Ghost is growling at the door. He dismounts and takes out his blade ready to face whoever is in their home. He feels Griff and a few others guard his back and follow him towards the door. He kicks it open and inside he sees his mad uncle holding a sword against Daenerys’s throat and an older man with Northern features standing next to him.

“Not another step or I will make the floor match the door you all have,” Viserys with a mad look in his eyes. “Now give the swords to Ser Jorah and get that beast and the rest of the men out of here.”

“Jon we can take them,” Griff whispers behind him.

“I will not risk Dany’s life,” he answers back, slowly handing his blade to the man named Jorah, not once looking away from the Targaryen siblings. “Now go all of you.”

“Jon….” Griff protests.

He turns to look at his friend.

“Go, Griff,” he orders, glancing at Harry who nods in understanding and ordering his men out of the house. Griff takes a moment more before leaving the house and closing the door behind him.

“So now that we are all alone,” Viserys starts making him turn around to face him. “We can finally talk, bastard.”  

He looks at Dany and he can see that she is trying her best to stay calm but he can see the fear and anger in her eyes as she struggles in her brother’s grasp.

“You see Ser Jorah Mormont here is from the North and he told me who you are. You are the bastard son of the Usurper’s loyal dog,” Viserys says with distastes.

He looks towards the man and vaguely recognizes him. He remembers Ned Stark had discovered the man to be selling slaves and being a coward the man had fled in disgrace instead of facing his punishment.

“What did you think, bastard? That you could come from the disgusting North and claim my sister as your own? Disgrace her? Well, you were wrong. You may have taken her maidenhead but I am sure Khal Drogo will still want her,” his uncle says with a sneer turning his head to sniff Dany’s hair.  “I will have to make sure your disgusting seed did not take root first, cut out the thing myself if I have to.”

He cannot stop his body from stepping towards his vile uncle who just chuckles and brings his blade even closer to his beloved’s neck as the Northern man pulls out his sword and steps between them.

“Tsk, tsk. Do not dare to come closer or I will make sure neither you nor I will get to keep her,” Viserys gloats.

“Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor,” he says remembering a phrase Dany had once taught him. With it, he seems to stun the Targaryen prince.

“What did you say, bastard?” the man asks.

“Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor, a dragon is not a slave. She like us both is a dragon Viserys and she does not belong to anyone,” he answers, revealing truth and giving Dany some comfort.

“How dare you call yourself a dragon? I AM THE LAST DRAGON!” Viserys shouts.

“No you are not,” Dany says boldly, drawing her brother’s attention to her. “You are no dragon. My husband and I are the last dragons. I as Daenerys Stormborm daughter of Aerys and Rhaella and him as Jaehareys son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark.”

The shock these words bring to Viserys is enough for his grip on Dany to loosen. She pushes away from her brother and towards the fireplace where the dragon eggs rest. He takes the opportunity to attack Mormont who seems surprised by his bold move.

Immediately he tackles the man to the ground and begins beating him with all his strength. Surprisingly the man, regardless of his years, still has some fight in him and begins to fight back. Both of them exchange blows, knocking things over around them.

He hears his wife grown in pain followed by a scream of pain from Viserys. He risks a glance towards Dany and Jorah takes that opportunity to get the upper hand.  The disgraced Northern man begins to choke him, putting all his weight and strength onto his neck. He tries his best to push the man off but he feels his strength fading the longer his air is cut off. He feels everything growing warmer and there is some orange glows around his blackening sight.

The body above him is suddenly removed and gasps as breath thankfully return to him. However, instead of clean air, he inhales the smoke.

“Go! Take him out of here!” he hears his wife’s voice yell out and two arms begin to drag him out of his home and the screams of his uncle fill the air.

Chapter Text

He wakes to a foreign weight on his chest and a small screeching sound. There is a moment of confusion as he awakes in a tent, his wife at his side, and a small green creature with a slightly turned head staring at him.

A dragon.

The dragons… the flames… Dany.

Everything that happened yesterday comes rushing back to him.

He watched what was once their home hoping more than ever that his wife was alright. The members of the Golden Company told him to give up on hope, that there was no way for anyone to survive the inferno. But he understood something that the others did not.

His wife was a dragon.

Blood of Aegon Targaryen, of the ancient Valaryian race, ran through her veins.

Fire was nothing to her.

So he waited.

He feels someone come stand next to him and a small glance lets him know it is Griff.

“Jon, I am so sorry. I should have…”

“You did nothing wrong, Griff, Dany is stubborn and if she did not want to leave the building she was not going to," he says with a chuckle, still looking into the flames.

" Jon, I know it's hard but she's... "

“Don’t,” he says stopping the Blackfyre from repeating what his other sworn brothers have already said. “She is alive, Griff. You have to believe me in this.”

The air is suddenly filled by a screeching, joined soon by two identical ones. He turns back towards their home and sees a figure walking out of the flames. He hears the gasps of the other men and from Griff himself. Slowly his naked wife exits the flames and he sees three small creatures wrapped around her body.

It is the most glorious sight he has ever seen.

One by one he, the rest of the Golden Company members, even Harry himself, kneels before his wife.

“What are you brooding about?” he hears her voice cut through his memories as he sees the little green dragon curled up on his stomach.

“I am not brooding, I am just remembering what happened yesterday,” he admits, holding her closer to him.  

“What are we going to do? Where are we going to go? The news will spread and it will only be a matter of time before the Usurper finds out and sends someone after us,” she says.

“The Golden Company is loyal, they don’t betray one of their own,” he tells her.

“But now they all know we are Targaryens, the company itself was founded to oppose our family,” she reminds him.

“Aye, but those people are long gone. The only Blackfyre left is Griff and he would never betray us. We can keep living our lives the way we have been, nothing needs to change,” he tries to reassure her but he can see her doubt and worry. “What is it?”  

“What if I do not want to go back to the same life?” she asks and he tries to hide his hurt but she is quick to pick up on it. “I love our life, I would not change a single moment we have spent together for anything in the world, Jae. But…”

“Everything before the word but is horseshit,” he says, briefly remembering the uncle that taught him that.

“But things have changed. We have three dragons! Dragons that have been extinct for over a hundred years! I cannot help but feel that we were given these dragons for a reason and I want to find that reason with you, Jae!” she says passionately.  “I…I want to do good. I want to prove to everyone that our family is not mad or evil, that dragons are capable of growing trees,” she admits and he finally understands.

Aye, he was a Targaryen, but he never had to carry the burden of that name. He did not have to spend his life living in the streets, exiled to a foreign land, and forced to beg to survive. Gods, Dany was almost sold off just because of the weight their name had. All her life she has lived in her father’s shadow, paying for the mistakes her father and brothers made.

He knows the yearning of wanting to prove to others that a name did not define who you were. He grew up a bastard, made to believe he was a stain, a burden, a sinful mistake, the only worth he had was to belong to an order which would strip him away of any connections he may have. He knew how much it hurt to yearn for a purpose. And if he is being honest, although he found some of it here with the Golden Company, he still felt like there was something else to do.

So he will support her any way he can.

He kisses her pressing her body closer to his and the little green dragon squawks, annoyed at being moved but he could care less.

“I love you,” he says between breathless kisses. “Wherever you go, whatever you decide to do I will be at your side and we will do it together.”

“Together,” she repeats.

He begins to rip off her clothing, having an unbearable need to be with her. She cannot be idle as she quickly slips her hand into his undergarment and begins to stroke him to her liking.

He moans, trying to ignore the feeling in his stones that threatens to end this too soon.

“Dany,” he groans wanting to still her hand but unwilling to do so, as his hips begin to thrust upwards.

She does not bother with the rest of their clothing, choosing instead to move their undergarments aside, staddle him and guide him into her warmth. There is no hesitation as she moves on him, both being near frantic in their need to reach their peak. But as he looks at her, he realizes that no matter the front he had placed forward yesterday, no matter how much he truly did believe Dany was alright, part of him had been terrified. This woman was his everything, his life, his love, his family and he had been close to losing her. She must have noticed the change in his emotions as she slows her movements and presses her body against his.

“I am here, love, I am safe,” she whispers to him as he tries to blink away his tears.

“I could have lost you, I would have been alone,” he chokes out.

“But you did not and I swear you will not be alone again,” she answers and sealing her vow with her kiss.

He grabs hold of her hips moving her gently, unwilling to let her go.

A while later, both having had their temporary fill of each other, he thinks over her words from earlier.

“Dany?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you wanted to do good, to redeem our family’s name, do you have any ideas as to what you would want to do?”

There is a moment of silence and he fears she may have fallen asleep on him but then she answers him.

“Since I was a girl I hated to see the way slaves were treated on this continent. Viserys had told me how it was outlawed in Westeros and I have wondered what it would be like for it to be gone here as well,” she admits.

“It would take an army to conquer all of Essos,” he says jokingly but her silence makes him realize it Is exactly what she plans to obtain. “Dany…”

“Our ancestors conquered an entire continent with three dragons and now we have them and we could do the same.”

“Aye but it would take years for them to grow large enough to mount, let alone conquer anything,” he points out.

“Then let us obtain an army,” she proposes.

“How?” he asks.

“Well we are surrounded by the largest sellsword company in Essos,”  she points out.

“We have nothing to pay for them. They have no reason to follow us!”

“They kneeled Jon, all of them,” she whispers. “They would follow you and me, I know it.”

“Maybe, but I would never take the company from Harry, not when he has done so much for us.,” is all he dares to say still not having processed what the kneeling had meant. “But we need something Dany, to convince them, to offer them for their services.”

The last thing he expected was to receive what they needed in news from Westeros.

Robert Baratheon was dead and his uncle the man who raised him, who had also treated him as his bastard and denied him his birthright was accused of treason and by this point would most likely be dead.

And he knows, the Iron Throne, his family’s legacy was now up for the taking.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks as he is lead towards the cliffs by his wife.

“The sooner you start, the stronger your bond with him will become and the easier it will be for you to fly,” Dany explains for possibly the fifth time that day.

He looks towards their massive children who are playfully snapping at each other and rolling around, causing the ground itself to shake. He still remembers those early days after their hatching when he and Dany would easily pick them up to separate them when they were too rough with each other. Now it seems like an impossibility that they were once that small.

He knows that if he turns around he will see their advisors watching their every move, waiting to see Targaryens flying on dragons for the first time in over a hundred years.

“Are you afraid?” his wife asks.

“A little. What if Rhaegal does not want me to? What if I am not enough of a Targaryen to be a rider? What if…”

She cuts him off with a kiss, slowly but surely removing his mind from these thoughts. A small tug on his riding trousers makes him pull away from his wife and look down. Jae is practically bounding from excitement, wanting to see his Kepa fly “just like Muña”.

“Do not get overly excited, lad, we are still not sure I can do this.” He had told the boy earlier in the morn but he did not care. As Dany had explained it, to Jae, his Kepa, could do anything and could do no wrong. A high bar to be sure, one he hoped to at least come close to.

“Come here, my love,” Dany laughs as she lifts their son into her arms. “Let us show Kepa how to be a dragon.”

She walks away from him and towards the dragons, speaking in Valaryan to their son. Taking a deep breath he follows. He is not afraid of his large children, if anything he feels calmer and safer surrounded by them, but the idea of failing at being a rider, of not being able to protect his family, not being the Targaryen his wife, his son, the whole realm needs him to be, terrifies him.

Rhaegal does not hesitate to approach him, demanding his full attention as Balerion and Viserion both take turns carefully seeking his wife’s and son’s attention. The green dragon purrs at his touch, acting more like the small hatchling that spent his days upon his shoulder than the giant beast he has become.

“Do you want me to do this?” he asks his father’s namesake, barely above a whisper. “Am I worthy enough to do this?”

The massive emerald dragon rolls its eyes at this question turning slightly to the side and lowering his shoulder.

“I do not think you need more invitation than that,” he hears his wife say with a giggle and as he looks towards her direction, she finds her already astride Balerion, their son strapped securely to her chest.

“We should look into saddles, especially if you plan to ride into battle and fly with Jae,” he calls out.

“You mean when we go into battle,” she corrects “Now stop wasting time and climb on!”

He turns back to Rhaegal, who lowers his shoulder even more. Taking a deep breath he grabs on to the closest spike and one by one he climbs onto the dragon’s back. He must look ridiculous for he hears Jae’s laughs as he finally manages to straddle the dragon. He feels a familiar presence trying to enter his mind, comparable to the bod he shares with Ghost, one he had begun to experience in Essos before leaving. When he allows it in, he feels power, fire, joy all overwhelming emotions entering his mind at once. He is quick to recover and shares his feelings towards his dragon, taking a moment to softly caress his scales. He can then feel eagerness prevail in his son’s mind as he begins to grow restless.

“What do I hold on to?!” he yells towards his wife.

“Whatever you can!” she answers with a shrug.

He feels Rhaegal begin to move and he quickly grabs on to the closest spikes he can find.

“Whoa, slow down, go easy on me,” he tells Rhaegal through their bond, but instead of some assurance, he feels some mischievousness coming from the dragon. It is only a moment before it occurs that he realizes what Rhaegal’s intentions are.

“Rhaegal!” he manages to exclaim before his mount nose-dives down the cliff. He feels himself grab on for dear life as wind streams past him and he stares straight down at the sea below. At the last possible moment, Rheagal pulls up, straightening himself and slowly climbing until he is on a gentle glide.

He releases the breath he had been holding and realizes that he is flying on a dragon.

He is in awe, he is amazed, none of Dany’s descriptions come close to the actual feeling of being on a dragon in flight. Over the gusts of wind, he hears his son’s voice.

“Yay Kepa!”

He turns his head to see Baleriion fly next to him, his on and wife safely on his back. He once again feels glee from Rhaegal and a yearning for directions.

“Right,” he orders in Valarian and he feels his dragon leaned toward the right. He tries it again in the opposite direction. After trying a couple of other simple commands he has Rhaegal turn and travels up the coast of Westeros, enjoying the movements and tricks the dragon wants to show him. As he travels North, he has the urge to visit Winterfell, to visit the woods and waterfalls he would hunt in as a child, some of the few happy memories he has, and share it with his family.

But the memory of Sansa’s attempt to undermine him, the hatred some Northerners have to this day of Targaryens stops him. It is not time yet to take them North, to expose them to the North’s small-mindedness. So sadly he turns Rhaegal around and heads back towards the island of Dragonstone.

When they finally land, he tries his best to appear graceful, or at least not ridicule himself. But he has no such luck. on his final step down he lands on his arse as he hears what can be considered a laugh coming from Rhaegal. Before he can scold the dragon, a little body crashes into him in a tight embrace.

“You did it, Kepa!” his son exclaims.

“Aye. I did.”

He looks up and sees Dany walking towards him, a bright smile on her face.

“I swear he was more excited seeing you on a dragon, that he was about being on a dragon,” she says with a laugh.

He laughs as well standing up with their son in his arms before pulling her in for a kiss.

“You, my love, did not do flying justice with your words,” he says against her lips. She leans slightly back, looking him directly into the eyes.

“It is indescribable. Mounting a dragon, feeling its power beneath you, becoming almost one with them, and flying above the world. All the while knowing that it is something only us Targareyns have truly experienced. Something only our family our blood will ever share,” she says her voice nearly breathless.

The mention of their shared blood causes him to bite back a groan as he tries to remind himself that his son is there and that he can not act as he wishes. Instead, he decides to lean in and whisper into his wife’s ear.

“You know what that does to me, the mentioning of our blood, of our family,” he growls and she dares to giggle.

“Of course I do and I also know what we would be doing if Jae was not here and we did not have work to do,” she answers and he sighs.

“You are right. I wish we could just tell them all to wait, but we cannot keep pushing back meetings.”

“I know,” she looks back towards the castle. “I will be waiting for you in the war room,” she says before turning to say goodby to their son. “Kepa is going to take you to your studies, alright? We’ll be busy but we will find you when we’re done.”

“Yes, Muña!”Jae responds happily. She kisses them both before leaving him standing alone with Jae and the dragons.

“Are you ready for your lessons lad?” he asks as he begins walking towards the castle.

“Aye!” Jae answers while lowering his voice.

He laughs at his son’s attempts to sound more like him and places a kiss upon his brow. He finds Griff, Rickon, Davos, and the Northerners waiting for him.

“That was amazing, Jon!” Rickon exclaims and he smiles at his brother.

“Maybe I will be able to take you up there one day, Rickon,” he teases, knowing full well his brother is not the biggest fan of heights. His heart pangs for a moment, remembering his youngest sister and how much she would have loved to see and ride a dragon. Lord Manderly then steps forward.

“It truly was a sight to see, your Grace. I am sure your ancestors, both Northern and Southern would be proud,” he says.

“Thank you, Lord Manderly.”

“Aye, seeing Northern blood ontop those beasts,” Glover interrupts, staring at where the dragons are flying. “It makes one proud,” he says with a chuckle he does not return.

“Let us not forget my lord, that it is our King’s dragon blood that allows him to ride a dragon,” Lady Lyanna reminds the Lord. “If we want him to claim his throne and ride a dragon into battle, it is necessary to accept that he is both wolf blood and dragon blood.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” he says and she responds with a bow of her head. “Now before the meeting starts, how are the mining operations going?”

“The first shipments have been sent to White Harbor and will be immediately be transported to Winterfell,” Lord Manderly answers.

“Good. Any word from Bran or Lord Royce?” he asks and Davos steps forward.

“Lord Brandon has sent word that everything is as it should be both up in the North and here in the South. Lord Royce has talked to the Lords of the Vale and they have decided that they will join forces both in the Northern fight and with Queen Daenerys’s forces.”

He sighs in relief with that news. He is still waiting for any sort of betrayal to occur but to know that his brother has yet to see anything gives him great relief.

“Also my King, I know a good blacksmith that may be able to help us with weapons, could I be allowed to retrieve him and bring him to the island?” Davos asks.

“Very well Davos, just make sure to come back alive and well. I still need you for the wars to come,” he says and the former smuggler bows before leaving. “Now I have to take Rickon and my son to their lessons. I will see you all shortly for the meeting.”

“Actually,” Griff steps forward. “The Queen pushed back the meeting for at least an hour, stating that she needed to talk to you first and that I should take the boys to their lessons.”

“Griff…” he warns, gently handing Jae over to the sellsword.

“No worries, nothing is wrong. She just said you needed to discuss dragon-riding,” Griff reassures him, but a certain mischievous gleam in his eyes unsettle him.

“I must have done something wrong up there, or it might be about the saddle and possible armor we discussed,” he mutters, trying to think about possible reasons for his wife’s need for this meeting.

“That must be it. Go she is waiting for you in the War Room,” Griff is quick to dismiss and takes the boys away.

The two Lords and Lady Lyanna bow to him before they too leave and he makes his way to the room with the painted table.

He finds two Unsullied soldiers waiting by the door but as soon as he arrives they both walk away, keeping watch further down the hall. He knocks on the door, and his wife opens it, allows him in, and promptly locks the door behind them.

“Dany?”

Before he can say anything else her lips crash into his own and her hands are simultaneously working on the buckle of his belt and his cock. His own hands, without hesitating, begin to undo her clothes as well.

“Griff… dragons…” he says between kisses and moans, trying to understand what is happening.

But she doesn’t answer instead she pushes him back until he bumps into the carved table. For a brief moment the thought of how many Targaryens have used this table not just for battle strategy but for acts such as these crossed his mind, but it leaves as soon as he feels the bottom half of his clothing fall to the ground, quickly followed by his wife’s.

He is shoved into the nearest chair and in a blink of an eye, his wife has straddled him and has sunk onto him. They both groan having not done this in a sennight, impeded by a grey-eyed, silver-headed dragon, who demanded to sleep in their bed.

They both pant, trying their best to keep themselves together. Daenerys leans in, her lips kissing his neck before whispering in his ear.

“It is indescribable, mounting a dragon,” she rocks her hips, causing them both to moan, “feeling his power beneath you, becoming one. It is almost like flying.”

His self-control snaps as he stands, her legs wrapped around his waist, and places her on top of the table, roughly thrusting into her.

“Aye,” he pants into her ear. “And only us Targaryens have and will ever have this experience,” she moans again at another thrust, as he pushes her farther back onto the table and climbs above her. “If I were you, love, I would make sure to hold on to anything you can.”

She releases something between a laugh and a moan as they both lose themselves in the pleasures of dragon-riding.