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Chapter Text

"I don't know if we should be here. We could get in trouble."

"You are such a stick in the mud."

"Stop whining Jon."

He bit his lower lip, not wanting to be thought craven, especially by girls. He glanced over his shoulder, worrying his hands on the hem of his coat. He knew that if his uncle or his other brother found him he would never hear the end of it. They already made fun of him for hanging out with the girls. He sighed, ducking his head under the tapestry that covered the hidden passage's door, scurrying along sideways in the narrow space after his sister and his aunt.

They were led by Rhaenys—she was always in the lead as the eldest. Even though Dany was the youngest, she was their aunt, and as such she went ahead of him. He did not think he could even try to get in front of her. He tugged on her skirt, holding her back as they stopped before a grate, all shoving faces forward to try to see what was happening.

"Shh," Dany said loudly, poking him.

He poked her back. "I didn't say anything!"

"I could hear you thinking it."

He wanted to hit her, but he got in trouble when he pushed her into the ground once. Father saw and said you never pushed girls, but amended it when Dany knocked him hard on his arse another time, saying fine, only if they push first. He held back though, because Rhaenys shot them both a look, silencing them both with her dark glare. He pushed against Dany, elbowing her, staring up through the open grate of the passageway into the Throne Room.

They were not allowed in, as they had not been officially presented to court. Viserys and Aegon were there, as the King's brother and heir, respectively. He was just dumb stupid Prince Jon. Aegon was the Crown Prince and Viserys was the Prince of Dragonstone. Dany was Princess of Dragonstone. He wrinkled his nose, wishing that he had a castle that he could have, but right now Father had not determined what his role would be. He would become Prince of Dragonstone once Viserys died and Aegon became King. That was like in a million years though.

He glanced at Rhaenys, who was mooning at Jaime Lannister. He was standing guard closest to them. Dany flushed when Ser Barristan looked over, frowning at the grate. "You think they know we are here?" she whispered.

"Shh!" Rhaenys ordered.

They both shut up, continuing to watch the proceedings through the grate. Jon thought that his father looked very handsome, in black and crimson velvet and leather, his crown a thin circle of steel with seven spikes that looked like flames, a ruby in each one. He had a sword on his hip, the ancestral blade Dark Sister, found in the ruins of the Nightfort at the Wall, granted back to him by Maester Aemon, a brother of the Night's Watch who was a Targaryen. He could no longer see, which Jon thought very sad, but he was very kind and wrote them letters speaking of the cold and the winds in the North.

He had only been North twice in his short seven years in the world. Once to visit the grave of his mother, when he was quite small, and he did not even know that his mother was there. HIs father took him into the crypts of Winterfell, where they placed blue roses on her statue and Jon felt very sad then too. He wished he had known her, for Father only ever said beautiful things about her, the rare times he spoke of her at all.

The second time he had gone for his cousin's seventh name-day, a tourney held for the future Lord of Winterfell. he had met his cousins, played in a fine layer of snow that had fallen just as they arrived, and climbed trees with Dany. His uncle was a very somber, sad man and his cousins were not at all. They were a lot of fun, he liked them, even though only Robb was his age and then there was Sansa who was still very small and quite annoying. There were more babies now, he thought, or at least one. He hoped to meet her.

He blinked at the procession of lords and ladies, who were there for some reason. They had been pushed into their chambers and told not to bother anyone, but Rhaenys knew all the secret passages and they had sneaked out of the Maidenvault and down to see what was going on. "I hope someone's head gets chopped off," Dany whispered. Her violet eyes sparkled. "Or maybe burned alive."

"That's not nice," Rhaenys chastised. Before she remembered where they were and went "Shh!" again.

He listened, because Rhaenys was the eldest and as such she was always in charge. He poked closer to Dany, accidentally getting a whiff of her hair. It smelled good. Like flowers and lemons. He always liked Dany's hair because it was silver like father's and Aegon's. He had dark hair like Rhaenys, who looked like her mother. He did not really remember Princess Elia, just that she was very pretty and very kind. She got sick and died in her bed in Dorne. Aegon stayed there with the Martells for a long time afterward. It was how he got closer to Rhaenys.

They were talking now, people coming up and presenting gifts and queries to the king. Rhaegar was a just and fair king, they all said so. Or at least, he thought that was what they said. He thought his father was a good man. He was always serious. He worked with him in the training yard with a sword. Ser Arthur Dayne, Rhaegar's closest friend and the greatest swordsman in the known realm trained him. Sometimes Rhaegar would join in.

He liked all the swords the men had. He played a game with himself, trying to remember the Houses, sigils, and mottos. He saw the Lannisters— Jaime's House. The dwarf, the Lord of Casterly Rock, Tyrion Lannister, was there with his aunt Gemma Frey, who used to be a Lannister. He spied the Selmys, the Tarths, and wondered where the Baratheon sigil was, because he remembered that even though Robert and his brothers had died in the war, Robert had a bastard son who the King legitimized. He was living with a knight that served Stannis for a time. Ser Davos, Jon remembered his name was, and he was very nice.

He spotted the Tyrells—Olenna Tyrell was the Mistress of Coin and very good at her job-- there were a few more Reach houses. He spotted the Tarlys. He knew that the Lord of Horn Hill was quite mean, Rhaegar despised him, and was seeking to have his two sons sent off to the Hightowers for fostering. The White Bull, Ser Gerold, was going to work on that.

All this he knew from listening. Rhaegar would let him do his lessons in his private study and he would hear the conversations between Rhaegar and his Hand, Lord Jon Connington. He thought he was named for Jon Connington, but Rhaegar said no, he was named for Jon Arryn. His uncle named him, because he thought Rhaegar had died and when Rhaegar didn't die at the Trident, Lord Eddard Stark went to Kings Landing with him and presented him.

His real name, his dragon name as Dany joked, was Daeron. Daeron the Young Dragon was his favorite. No one called him that, no one ever would. He was always Jon. It befitted him, the strange. small wolf child among the regal silver dragons and the exotic snakes. He stared out at the Iron Throne where Rhaegar sat, hard to believe it was as large as it was. It seemed so big to them. They were never allowed in the Throne Room. Not even when no one was there.

He knew he would never sit on it. It was not his. Dany said she would one day. He kind of thought that might be true, but with Viserys, Aegon, and himself, she was pretty far down the list. If he had his way, Dany would be a Queen. She was very smart. She could name every single dragon the Targaryens had. She said she would find dragons and bring them to the world again. He had no doubt she would.

Rhaenys wanted to go live in Dorne, he knew she liked it the most. She hated Kings Landing, only stayed because of them. He didn't now where he would go. He would like to go North again one day. To see his cousins. He wrote to Robb sometimes. And to Uncle Aemon. He wanted to see the Wall. He heard it was huge. And direwolves too.

"The Lord of Winterfell!"

He straightened up, looking out when his uncle approached the throne, kneeling and presenting his greatsword Ice. It was a magnificent sword, he thought. Robb would have it one day. He would not get a Valyrian sword. That was only for Aegon.

"Lord Stark, thank you for journeying this long way to treat with us," Rhaegar announced. He got up from the throne, walking a couple of steps down so he was eye to eye with Ned. He smiled, but it was not very big—Rhaegar never smiled so this was quite odd, Jon thought. He reached his hand and clasped Ned's, his voice quiet. "It is good to see you good-brother."

Ned bowed his head. "And you as well Your Grace."

"You are here to discuss the fostering of my son with yours at Winterfell?"

Rhaenys let out a gasp so loud that Jaime and Barristan both glared at the grate. Jaime even moved to kick it, reminding them to be quiet. Dany covered her mouth with her hands, muttering 'No!' He gulped. He wondered when they would talk about him in these meetings. It seemed only a matter of time, the better he got with a sword and bow, and the older he got. He would need to go somewhere. He was not the heir, after all. He barely had a title.

He felt Dany grip his arm tight, her little nails forming red half-moons into his skin as they awaited the answer from Lord Stark. He craned his head to listen, knowing what the answer would be of course.

"Aye, Your Grace. I hope we could have that conversation, among other matters. Funding for the Wall as well." He paused. "It will be a hard winter." He moved to speak again and Rhaegar filled his words for him.

"Winter is coming, yes, I know."

Those were the words of House Stark. They were so ominous. He much preferred “Fire and blood” because at least that was a decent warning of what would be to come. He thought he heard something about Rhaegar saying they should supper that evening to discuss further details of the fostering, but he much looked forward to it and to introducing Lord Stark to his nephew in due course. They were talking about him like he was not even there!

Well of course he wasn’t there, but as though he were just a thing. It was like how they talked about the girls, but at least Rhaenys would always stand up for herself and Dany made sure no one ignored her. He just let them talk about him.

He suddenly did not want to hear anymore and pushed by Dany, hurrying as fast out of the tight passageway as he could. He ignored their hissing cries for him to stay, to come back, they would talk to Rhaegar, but it didn’t matter. He blinked hard through tears, not wanting anyone to see. He wanted to go to Winterfell but not to foster! That would mean leaving Rhaenys and Dany!

He made his way to his chambers via the secret passages, bursting into them at the same time the doorknob turned. He jumped onto his bed and grabbed hold of a book he should have been studying for lessons, pretending to read, trying to keep his heart rate down. He glanced up, gray eyes darting to the door as it pushed open, his father entering.

That was fast.

"Father," he said, immediately getting to his feet. He sat back down on the edge of the bed when Rhaegar gestured, folding his hands in his lap, quivering, fearing what might be said. Did he know we sneaked in to watch the proceedings? How are they over already? Maybe it had taken him longer than he thought to get to his rooms.

Rhaegar studied him for a moment. Jon tried not to look guilty for anything, but his father was always very observant. Whatever it was he was looking for, Rhaegar seemed satisfied, nodding his head slightly. He opened his mouth to speak when suddenly the door flew open again, banging so hard against the stone wall Jon would not have been surprised if it left a mark. He jumped in place, as did Rhaegar.

Rhaenys and Dany ran in, ignoring the protests of Ser Barristan—Jon didn’t think the Kingsguard did a good job of protecting the king from them sometimes. Dany was crying and throwing herself into her brother's arms as Rhaenys began shouting. "You can’t send him away to the horrid North! It's so cold there! He will freeze! Just look at him Father! He's too little!"

He took great offense at being described as little but appreciated his older sister's attempts at saving his life. He frowned at Dany, who had taken the opposite approach of trying to convince Rhaegar through some sort of intellectual argument and stood up, smacking his knee with her small hate. "I shall hate you forever if you send him away!" she exclaimed. She spit in Valyrian, something so fast he could not understand it, and then glowered at him, a shaking little dragon. "Jon and I are going to get married one day and you cannot keep us apart! I forbid it! I am the Princess of Dragonstone and I say so!"

Married! His eyes widened; they only ever pretended to play married when Dany said they were Aegon and Rhaenys—because Rhaenys was Aegon's favorite even though Visenya was the warrior. Then she would turn around and be Visenya and he had to be Vhagar and hold her on his back as she ordered him around with her sword in her hand. He never thought they would get married for real. Although it made sense, because Targaryens married each other.

And they were Targaryens after all.

It seemed Father was not as angry as he probably should have been, being interrupted like that. Then again, Dany was always Rhaegar’s favorite. Rhaegar chuckled, reaching to lift Dany up from the ground and comforting her as she cried, his wide palm patting her back and stroking her silver braids. "Relax little sister, you do not need to fear me sending Jon away for good. He will not go to Winterfell forever. Just for a few years and you shall visit him. He needs to learn about his Northern side."

It was true then. He would have to leave. He hung his head, fear creeping up his spine. "So I am going away?" he whispered. He would not be upset; he couldn’t be upset. Not in front of his father.

"No!" Rhaenys howled as Dany burst into tears again.

The king stood, putting Dany on the floor, where she proceeded to throw herself like she was a maudlin maid being tossed into a tower, crying into her arms. "It is final," Rhaegar said firmly. He picked her back up and ignored their protests, ushering the girls from the room. He shook his head, stern. "I do not want to know how you already know this information, although it does not surprise me. Jon is from the North, as Rhaenys you are part Dornish and will spend time with your Martell family, Jon must also spend time with the Starks." He paused, his indigo eyes softening. His voice dropped, melancholy filling his words. "It is what his mother would have wanted."

Mother. He gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white. He would be able to see where she grew up and visit with her in the crypts. He could go to the godswood and pray there. The godswood in King's Landing did not have a hearttree and Rhaegar often apologized to him for it, for there was nothing he could do. He was raised to follow his mother's gods, not the Seven like everyone else. Although he suspected the Targaryens did not bother much with true belief—they just did it to curry favor with the smallfolk.

He nodded, understanding what he would be doing. It must be done. If it was what his mother would have wanted, he would do it without protest. He looked over at his sister and his aunt, who were still in tears, beside themselves, despite the fact that now Rhaenys—having been reminded of her Dornish heritage—was trying to hold her head aloft and stay defiant. "When do I leave, Father?"

"With Lord Stark, in two weeks’ time."

That was not a lot of time. Not a lot of time to do everything they always did one more time. Ride horses in the Kingswood, climb up towers, sneak into the dungeons to look at the dragon skulls, or play pretend dragons and conquerors. They would do it though, they would have to do it. He would be strong for them. He had to be, because otherwise they would be sad, and he hated it when they were sad. He got up from the bed and walked over to hug Dany, who was the most distraught. Her little silver head buried into his shoulder. He hugged her tight and pushed is nose into her shoulder. "It will be okay. You can come see me and we can play in the snow like we did the one time."

While Dany cried, Rhaenys glowered at her father, dark eyes as black as coal. "We will write him ravens every single day and there is nothing you can do to stop us."

"That is perfectly alright, we need to keep the Maesters busy."

"And I will marry Jon?" Dany wondered, lifting her head up from his shoulder. She wiped her eyes, the silver once again burning amethysts. She furrowed her tiny brow. “Because I will.”

Rhaegar gazed at her, fond, amused, and also tired. He sighed and patted her head. "That is a discussion for another day."

They both exchanged a look, knowing that they would have to be married to someone one day. They were still too young for the discussions, he guessed, but it would happen. As the spare to the heir, he would not get as good a match as Aegon, who would likely marry into another major House. Perhaps the Tyrells. He sighed, nodding. "Alright Father. Can I play with Rhaenys and Dany still?"

"Of course, but I will return, and you will dine with myself and Lord Stark this evening, to discuss your training at Winterfell." He paused, smiling again. It was so odd, to see his father so happy, at the talk of this topic, of the North and his mother. "I told your uncle that you ride like your mother. He was most intrigued and would like to see it. We will go riding in the Kingswood sometime as well."

He nodded, slinking around his father and taking Dany's offered hand. He sighed and went with her down the hall to the room where most of their things were kept. Their books and toys and his training swords. He hugged her again, this time without Father looking on. She clutched him, as if they were the same person. "It will be alright Dany," he comforted her.

She wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands and the dragon look returned to them again. "Rhaegar will never keep us apart," she said. She sniffed, every bit a princess—or a queen. Her voice went cold. "I forbid it."

Rhaenys appeared then, her hands folded in front of her. "We will start work immediately," she announced.

"On what?" he asked.

"Silverwing went North with Queen Alysanne." Rhaenys dragged a book from the case by the window, hefting it to the table in the center of the nursery. She dropped it with a thud and began flicking through its pages. She grinned. "You will find Silverwing's eggs while you were there, and we will find them at Dragonstone. Then we will ride dragons again."

Those were just stories, but he would never say such thing to Rhaenys. She fully believed in them and he risked injury if he said otherwise. Dany squealed, climbing up onto the table, kicking off her shoes as she often did when they were inside, and reaching for the book. "Oh yes! We shall find them, and we shall we the Targaryen dragonriders again!"

"What about Aegon?" he asked.

Rhaenys snorted, rolling her eyes. "Sod off on Aegon, he is boring. We three will be dragonriders." She paused and smiled wide. "And I will not marry anyone. I will be like Visenya and be a warrior!"

"I don't want to marry anyone but Jon," Dany said again. She grinned. "I want a black and red, like Balerion."

"You can’t pick your color dragon Dany."

"Yes I can!"

Jon turned the pages in the book as his sister and aunt began to fight over what color dragons they could find and have and what they would name them. Rhaenys demanded that she got to name her dragon Balerion, like her cat, but Dany was claiming that one for herself.  He found a page in the book, studying the image of a direwolf, the description saying they were the sigil of House Stark and lived Beyond the Wall. He smiled to himself, tracing the snarling image on the page. He would like to ride a dragon.

But he kind of really wanted a wolf.

Chapter Text

"JON!"

He did not even have time to turn around before his aunt had almost flown off her silver palfry, the pony whinnying and jumping sideways out of surprise at the movement. He stumbled backwards, forgetting his place in line with the rest of the Stark children and his uncle, laughing as he spun around, hugging Dany as tightly as he could. He could scarcely believe she was in his same kingdom, let alone in his arms.

It had been five years since he left King's Landing and so much had happened, he could not wait to tell her everything. They had exchanged letters almost every single week since he rode off for the North, trying hard not to cry as Rhaenys bid him farewell, serious and morose, and Dany cried, without any care in the world who saw. He did not miss his brother or uncle at all, for his cousin Robb had become more of a brother to him than even his blood brother. He was so grateful to see Dany and Rhaenys though.

He spied his sister, sitting atop her black pony, eyes widening at how much she had changed. Dany was still a wisp of a girl, all silver braids and bright violet eyes, but his sister had grown more, dark hair glossy under the sun and wearing the orange and reds of House Martell over Dany's preferred black and red of House Targaryen. Her face had slimmed and there was a more regal air to her bearing, riding at the side of the King, her father, even taking a position in the line higher than that of her brother, who was the Crown Prince.

It was the Dornish side, he thought with a grin. He dropped Dany, her boots barely touching the ground before she hugged him again, an arm still tight around him and not letting go, despite the frown from Rhaegar and the appalled, sour look of his Aunt Catelyn. He swallowed his laugh hard, knowing it might also have been because Dany was wearing breeches under her dress, which was slit up the sides to accommodate her horse riding. She had on a sash that hung from her shoulder, held in place by a silver chain with a three-headed dragon on her shoulder.

He bowed to his father, as did everyone, when Rhaegar dismounted his black stallion. He removed his riding gloves, approaching Ned and offering his hands to shake. "So good of you to make this journey Your Grace," Ned said. "I trust it went well?"

"Long, but well, yes," Rhaegar said. He greeted Lady Catelyn with a kiss to her knuckles, her lips pursing even more into a fish-like expression. Jon tried not to chuckle, especially because his father turned his dark-purple gaze on him. He stared at him for a moment before he moved quickly, embracing him tightly, gasping. "Oh it is so good to see you...look at you..." He pulled back, staring at him again.

There was a sheen in his father's eyes, just the barest glint of one, until he blinked it away, smile flickering. "You look like your mother, more than ever before," he barely whispered. He hugged him again, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling.

He smiled into his father's black velvet cloak, knowing that that was the closest he would ever get to his father's outward approval. He saw the sneer from Aegon, who had not dismounted from his horse. Viserys was nowhere to be found, he hoped that his uncle had not made the journey. He glanced at Rhaenys, who was walking over, greeting the Starks and then turning to him.

He grinned at her and she laughed, wrapping her arms tight around his neck. She was as tall as him, if not taller. "Baby brother," she teased.

"Big sister."

Dany had not let go of his elbow. "You are as tall as me now," Rhaenys said. She placed her hand on her hip, revealing a long-coiled whip, a snake’s mouth on the handle. It was similar to one her uncle Oberyn carried when he visited Kings Landing, if Jon remembered correctly. He grinned, thinking she had truly become a Martell in the time they had spent apart. He did not even know she had been training the whip, he supposed she wanted it to be a surprise.

In fact, he was looking forward to showing his father his sword skills, which he had honed significantly in the five years at Winterfell. Along with a couple other things that he had discovered since he first arrived there, timid and shaking from the cold. He had learned to love the North. He loved it more than Kings Landing, even if he missed his family. He turned Dany towards Robb; she had only let go of him to allow Rhaegar to hug him, but once his father pulled back she was once again wrapped around him. He ignored the strange look from Catelyn. “This is my cousin Robb. Robb, this is my…” He wrinkled his nose, hung up on using the term aunt. He never really thought of her like that. She was a year younger than him, even. “This is Princess Daenerys.”

His cousin had shown far more prowess with girls, even managing to bring a few back to kiss in the godswood, which Jon would never admit made him a tiny bit jealous. He was a Prince! He should have been able to get any girl to come back to Winterfell with him from the village, but he never did well. He always stumbled on his words or turned pink like a damn maid. Plus, they only ever wanted to talk to him about his brother. Stupid Aegon.

Rhaenys teased him in her letters, saying that he might be a Prince, but he was too consumed with duty and honor. He worried that he might do to a girl what Rhaegar did to his mother, sweep her off her feet in a love affair and unfortunately forgo all the things that mattered in the realm. He wasn’t sure that was really it, but he guessed so, because Rhaenys was always right.

Robb grinned at Dany, reaching for her hand, which she reluctantly offered, although she still didn’t let go of his arm. “Princess Daenerys.”

“Pleasure to finally meet you,” she said, her voice maintaining its regal airiness. He cocked his head, interested to know who this was beside him, because tiny Dany from before had not put on false airs like this one just had. She smirked at him and winked, clearly sensing his curiosity at her change.

Somehow, he also knew that she was dismissing Robb immediately, in the way she dropped her hand immediately and glanced away from him, towards the wide towers of Winterfell. She clutched him tight, ignoring whatever Robb planned to say, his cousin caught off guard by the ease of her dismissal, fully turning from him now and walking away from the line as the servants and the Winterfell staff began unloading wagons and carriages. “This place is beautiful Jon. I cannot wait for you to show me around.”

“Jon!”

He paused, wishing nothing more than to run off to the godwood with Dany to show her the hearttree and hopefully find Ghost, his direwolf, the direwolf he had longed to have as a child and that now never left his side. He wanted to talk to her about the dreams he had, about the dreams she had as well, where he was a wolf and she was a dragon, things they had agreed not to spend too much time in their letters discussing, lest someone read them. He sighed at Rhaenys, who had nodded towards Rhaegar, who was waiting with Ned for him. “Sorry,” he mumbled, kissing the top of her head.

She shrugged, rolling her eyes. “We will speak later.”

“Count on it.” He guided her towards his cousins, to little Arya who wanted nothing more than to speak to a Princess of Dragons and to Sansa, who was giddy at the idea of befriending a true princess. Rhaenys was tugged away by Lady Catelyn and he approached his father and uncle.

Rhaegar went to wrap his arm around his shoulders. “Come,” he whispered.

Jon glanced at the clutch of blue winter roses his father was hiding in the folds of his black cloak. He gulped, nodding, and his uncle led them to the entrance to the Winterfell crypts, to go pay respects to his mother.

Jon wasn't sure what Rhaenys was up to, but she kept trying to get him alone during the feast. He managed to sneak away from Dany-- who had not stepped away from him since she flew off her horse-- long enough to grab her and scurry into a corridor on the way to the kitchens. He had not properly had a chance to hug his big sister and he did not realize how much he missed her until she hugged him tight, her slim arms wrapping around his chest.

She sighed hard. "I missed you little brother. Kings Landing wasn't the same."

"You had Aegon," he teased.

She rolled her eyes; he noticed that with the dim torchlight they appeared to have some indigo in them now. "Yeah, that bore. No, it's like I said in my letters, it was nothing but lessons and the like. Thank gods for Uncle Oberyn, he took me to Dorne and I had a chance to learn to be a proper Dornishwoman. No knitting needles for me."

"You need to meet my cousin Arya for sure." He had wanted them to meet beyond the perfunctory greetings in the yard, but because there was no queen for Lady Catelyn to show about, Rhaenys had been pulled into dealing with the female issues as she called them of seeing how Catelyn had been dealing with the kitchens, smallfolk, and of course looking at the embroidered tapestry that she and Sansa had been spending the last three months making in honor of the king's visit.

"The little one who threw muck at her sister?" Rhaenys snickered. He laughed, nodding. That had been an amusing sight in the Great Hall an hour or so before; Robb had had to drag Arya out after Sansa screamed and threatened to stab her with a fork. She nodded. "Oh yes, I certainly will."

He gave her another tight hug, smiling again. "So what else is going on there?" he asked, leading her away from the Great Hall and out into the yard near the stables. He did not flinch against the sudden gust of wind swirling around them as they exited, but Rhaenys shivered, hissing almost in pain at the cold. He grinned. "Welcome to the North."

"Gods is it even winter?"

"Not yet." Soon enough, if Uncle Ned had his way. He led her through the stables and to the godswood, where he knew they would have some peace and quiet. He sensed Ghost was near, his faithful direwolf never far from him. He dropped his hand, turning his palm outward, almost summoning him. He knew Dany would be upset she hadn't met Ghost before Rhaenys, but she would soon enough.

Rhaenys crossed her arms over her chest, the thin material of her orange coat not enough to keep her as warm as she probably would have preferred. "Now that it's just us, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What's that?"

"Well, you know that Father is going to try to match us for marriages, of course...." Whatever she planned to say caught in her throat, her eyes widening to saucers at the sight of Ghost emerging from the thick woods. "Oh gods! Is that him? He's gorgeous!"

He preened, his hand atop Ghost's head. The direwolf was still the smallest of the bunch, being the runt, but he now stood high at the shoulder to be level with Jon's elbow. His ruby red eyes focused on Rhaenys, surveying her, and upon passing his test, pushed his coal black nose into her outstretched hand. She giggled, moving closer as his eyes closed under her touch. "He's large, but he's a baby," he said.

"I cannot believe you have a direwolf. Dany is so jealous. The letter you sent saying you had found him; she could not stop talking about how unfair it was she didn’t have a dragon yet."

"She'll get one soon enough." He had no doubt Dany would get her dragon. She was single-minded in her pursuits and if her dragon dreams were to be believed, Targaryens would fly atop them again one day. He frowned, thinking of her clinginess to him. He knew she missed him, but there was something bigger. He sighed. "What aren't you telling me, Rhaenys?"

The flicker of concern in his big sister's eyes told him that he was on to something. He closed his eyes briefly, knowing what she would say, somehow. She hesitated and then withdrew her hand from Ghost, crossing her arms again, quiet. "Father has prepared a match for Aegon. To Margaery Tyrell."

He blew out a hard puff of breath. "Yes, we expected that."

"And...well..." She closed her eyes hard, squeezing them shut. "We are here so he can...he wants to see about marrying Dany to Robb Stark."

All the air left him. It felt like he had been kicked in the chest, suddenly winded, gasping for breath. He choked and Rhaenys reached for him. He did not even know where to look or what to do, turning away from his sister's attempts to comfort him. He stumbled to the hearttree, staring at its smiling-- or crying-- red face. No. He knew...he knew in his heart...she had to marry someone. Of course she did, she was the Princess fo Dragonstone. All the men wanted to marry her. Dany's beauty was renowned, even the men in the North spoke of it, though they'd never even set eyes on her.

He supposed he'd always taken for granted that she would rebuff any attempts to marry her. Or that as she said since the moment she could speak, that they would marry. He didn't think much on it. It was just always the case. But...he didn't...no. "She can't!" he exclaimed. He did not know what else to say. Rhaenys tried to grab his hand, but he shrugged her away again. "Not Robb!" He didn't know why. He just knew he didn't want her to marry his cousin.

Robb was...Robb wasn't good enough. Dany needed someone who could let her be her wild, dragon self. Someone who would allow her to explore, find dragons, and keep up with her mind. The letters they'd exchanged over the years had been filled with her ideas. She had traveled to Essos in that time, she had seen things, she wanted to change the world. No, no she could never become the Lady of Winterfell. It was too small for her.

Rhaenys stepped to his side, grabbing his elbow, whispering. "Jon, you need to speak with her. Before she does something drastic."

"Gods." Of course, of course he must. He nodded quickly, rushing away from Rhaenys, hurrying to the Great Hall. He brushed by Ser Arthur, who was chatting at the entrance with Ser Jaime. "Where's Dany?" he demanded.

"Whoa, I do not even get a proper greeting from my favorite pupil?" Arthur laughed, holding his arms out. "Let me look at you! Gods, you've grown. Not much at all. Skinny as a whip though, just like your mother."

He waved off the insult about his size; he was only eleven, he would grow more-- he hoped. "Where's Dany?" he demanded again.

Jaime and Arthur exchanged a look. Jaime cleared his throat, nodding to the Hall. "She's been roped into a dance with your cousin." There was something in his voice. His green eyes narrowed, voice dropping quietly. "You know then."

"Of course he knows," Arthur said, quiet. He lifted his dark brows, his violet eyes shining deep indigo in the torchlight from the Hall. He reached his hand out, stilling Jon from rushing in. "Easy, my Prince. You cannot barge in there as though this is a common tavern. The dance will finish shortly." He nodded to Jaime, who got up from his post, white cloak swishing as he entered the hall. The Sword of the Morning stared at him a bit longer, but Jon refused to meet his gaze. He sighed hard. "Your Grace, this is the way of things. You knew it had to be. Nothing is official..." he trailed off.

They both knew that if the news had already trickled to Rhaenys— the ultimate source of the information— if Dany was being urged to dance with Robb at the King's welcome feast and the entire court had made their way to Winterfell, including the King, the discussions and agreements made before Rhaegar returned to Kings Landing would certainly be about more than just funding for the Wall and maintain peace in the wild, wild North. It would be something bigger. A marriage contract, fusing House Targaryen and House Stark, for the rest of time. A way to make up and at the same time encourage a new dynasty after Rhaegar and Lyanna's brief, fateful romance.

He refused to look at Arthur, refused to say a word, even when Ghost wandered up, causing Arthur to curse and reach his hand for Dawn, before stepping to the beast with immediate curiosity. "This animal coming with us back to King's Landing? Gods, he's huge!"

"He's mine," Jon snapped. They could never take Ghost away from him. He waited for the music to change, looking up to see Jaime coming back. He ducked into the Hall just long enough to grab hold of Dany's arm, rushing her out.

"Oh Jon," she cried, reaching for him, but he shook his head. She nodded in understanding, letting him lead her from the Hall. As much as he wanted to show her the godswood, where they had once played years ago, he knew they needed greater privacy.

The Broken Tower was only used to store old barn equipment and had not been used in ages. He sneaked in through the side, a gap in the stones that allowed all manner of debris and vermin, but it suited their needs. The stairs were still in good use and he hurried her up to the top level, where no one would find them. He spun around in time for her arms to wrap around his neck, her face burying into his shoulder.

"It is done?" he croaked.

"Not yet, but...why else would Rhaegar come all this way?" she asked bitterly. Tears trickled down her cheeks. He hated to see her cry, he always had. The moonlight cast her face in the palest glow, her silver hair shining as if it were moonbeams itself. He reached to cup her cheek and she covered his hand with hers, squeezing. Even in the cold, while Rhaenys had shivered, Dany was warm. She was the blood of the dragon, she always said. She wrapped herself back in his arms again, eyes closing.

He held her tight. Ghost appeared, nudging his side. Dany gasped, staring at him. he smiled, his hand ruffling his wolf's ears. "This is Ghost. Ghost, this is Dany."

"Oh…he's so fluffy." She knelt immediately, her arms going around his wolf, her face burrowing into the soft ruff of fur around his neck. She took a deep breath, before pulling back, stroking her hands over Ghost's muzzle, peering into his eyes. Jon wasn't sure what it was, a shift of something seemed to occur. Maybe it was just the wind. Or maybe it was something else, Ghost recognizing something in Dany. His head immediately rubbed against her cheek and she giggled. "You're a gorgeous boy."

"He's the best boy. He's been my..." He sighed. "Companion...best friend I guess...since I found him."

She lifted her face back to him, still kneeling on the dirty floor. It was no place for a Princess, but then again, Dany was no ordinary princess. "I wish to ask you something Jon," she said.

"Yes?"

Ghost moved away, trotting down the stairs, giving them privacy. Dany got to her feet, squaring off against him. Her cheeks now filled with color, pale pink and her eyes no longer shining with tears, but with curiosity. She took his hand into hers, squeezing. He felt a shiver go down his spine. He swallowed hard; his throat now dry. "You have been here five years," she whispered. She cocked her head, the corner of her lip turning up a bit. "And...and Robb is very handsome."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I suppose," he mumbled. They all thought Robb handsome. He looked to her again. Perhaps he misread this entire thing. Perhaps Dany wanted the match.

"Forgive me for saying though, but you are more so to me."

He glanced sideways. Alright, not that then. He definitely wasn't sure what he was feeling now, his stomach filling with fluttering feelings. He gulped visibly, Dany moving even closer to him, her arm now around his waist. "Uh...thanks?"

She faltered, her confidence suddenly shaken, her brow flickering in a frown. "I...I do not want...." She licked her lips, glancing to him again, whispering. "After our dance, Robb wished to see me out...to the stables...I feared..." She took a deep breath again, exhaling hard, flushing deeper red. "I thought perhaps he meant to kiss me. I do not know if he knows why I am here as well...what Rhaegar and his father have planned."

I don't think he does, Jon thought. For sure Robb would have said something. Would have wanted to get all the information out of him about Dany. More than he'd already divulged. He frowned, still curious at where this conversation was heading. "I...okay," he ended up saying.

"Jon have you kissed a girl yet?"

He immediately flushed. His palms went sweaty and he wanted very much to disappear into the fur cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Or hurl himself from the top of the tower. He met Dany's eyes again; she was as embarrassed as him. "I...well..." He sighed, shaking his head quickly. "No...no there was no one...no one I wanted to...to do that with here."

She nibbled her lower lip, eyes darting to his again. She swallowed hard. "Will you kiss me Jon? I have so little choice in my life...I just want to make some for myself. Like this."

Kiss Dany? They always had as children. Little kisses on the mouth while they played pretend husband and wife. Or when they went into the forest and played pretend mother bear and father bear. She would always hug and kiss him goodnight when she was small. This though. This wasn’t that at all. He glanced at her again. Dany was not the same girl he left at the Red Keep when he rode away five years before. They were still kids, but…things were different.

After a moment, he leaned in, unsure of what he was doing, but his hand instinctively cupped the back of her head and guided her mouth to his. She made a small sound, her fingers clutching the front of his cloak, when he pressed his lips to hers. He immediately thought perhaps this was all wrong. It was cold, his lips were chapped, he probably shouldn't have drunk that wine...except Dany didn't mind. Her lips were soft under his, yielding quickly, gentle and letting him slant his over hers, just for another moment more before he broke away.

She pulled him back for another, immediately after, a bit more insistent, but no less sweet. She smiled, eyes dancing. He smiled back down at her, arms still keeping her against him. "Thank you," she whispered.

What did he say to that? He nodded and smiled, touching his forehead to hers. "You're welcome."

"Come, let's go." She took his hand again and they left the tower, just in time to see Rhaenys heading their way. Dany giggled. "Hi Rhaenys."

Rhaenys arched her brow, her hands on her hips. "Where were you two? Father was looking, he wants to make a speech, but not without the Princess of Dragonstone and the Prince of Winter or whatever the seven hells they're calling you these days Jon."

"Ah...we were nowhere."

His big sister was never one to be left out, especially when it came to the two of them. Rhaenys was their leader, she always had been. She immediately slammed her brows together, glancing between them. She pursed her lips and after a moment nodded. "Hmm, well...fine. Come on, we have to get inside."

"I saw Ghost," Dany said, bouncing in place as they walked back together. She looked over at Ser Barristan, who came to greet her and guide her back inside. "Ser Barristan! Have you seen Jon's direwolf Ghost? He will put you out of a job, Jon needs no more Kingsguard to watch him."

He chuckled. "Well, we shall have to see about that." He nodded to Jon. "Your Grace."

"Ser Barristan." He followed them into the Hall, Ser Barristan guiding Dany back up to the main table. He was going to follow after, when Rhaenys grabbed him, yanking him backwards. "Ow!"

She tugged him to the kitchens, eyes alight, amused. "You were nowhere huh?"

"Um..." He grew warm again, reaching to tug at the straps of his cloak, shrugging it off his shoulders and tossing it over a chair nearby. He met his father's gaze over the hall, Rhaegar lifting his finger and pointing to the seat at the end of the table that was his-- a seat he had not spent a lot of time in that evening. He tried to move by his sister, but Rhaenys grabbed him again. "Nowhere. We were nowhere."

Rhaenys grinned, leaning in and whispering. "You may as well have I just kissed Dany painted on your face, Jon.”

He would have died of mortification if Ser Arthur didn't grab him by his gambeson, tugging him towards the high table, Rhaenys's knowing laugh following him.

Chapter Text

Jon parried the blow that his brother had flung in his direction, only dropping his shoulder at the last minute to make it look like Aegon had gotten in the hit, scowling when his brother preened, tossing back his dirty silver hair from his eyes, smirking at him. "I thought you were Ser Arthur's favorite pupil, little brother?" Aegon laughed.

Little by one year, you cockhead, he thought, rolling his eyes and glancing over to see his uncle was watching them, clapping and laughing each time that his favorite nephew beat Jon at something. It was only because Aegon was the heir. He couldn't beat the ever loving shit out of him like Jon wanted to do. He fought the ire building in him as his brother taunted him, chiding him on what he learned at Winterfell for five years.

"Or did you freeze your dick off like those brothers on the Wall do? I heard they can't fuck anyone. You might as well go up there, little brother, you're not going to be King." Aegon shrugged, tossing his hair out of his eyes again, pursing his lips. "I mean, you were Father's accident, after all. If your Northern whore of a mother hadn't come along, you wouldn't even be born. You should have prayed to your tree gods for that or you'd be nothing."

The very fine control he had on his frustration with Aegon snapped at the insult to Lyanna. Jon threw down his sword, letting out a roar of angry and running on Aegon, knocking him into the dirt. He saw Ser Oswell and Ser Jaime lunge for them, shouting at them to let go— they couldn't very well have the two Princes brawling like common street rats. "Take that back!" he screamed, kicking out at Aegon, satisfied when his boot connected with his brother's kneecap. "Fuck off Jaime!"

Jaime hauled him away, hissing in his ear. "You cannot hit the Crown Prince!"

Viserys was screaming at the top of his lungs to have Jon thrown in the dungeons for assaulting the Crown Prince-- no one listened to him. Ser Oswell was tugging Aegon back as he tried to go after Jon, screaming how their father was going to hear about this and he'd make sure he was sent to the Wall for the rest of his life. He turned pink, angry and annoyed. "You want to be a King one day?" he shouted at Aegon, trying to get out of Jaime's grasp, managing to slip away as Jaime fought him, clearly shocked at the strength of a fourteen-year old being greater than that of a Kingsguard. "Fight your own battles!"

"Enough!"

They all stopped, even Viserys, who had come down from the balcony where he had been watching. Rhaenys emerged from one of the archways, Dany at her side. They had been in their training, given their worn leathers and tied back braids. His sister had her bullwhip on her hip and her wraps and gauntlets. Dany looked innocent, standing in her brown leathers akin to a Dothraki khaleesi, but Jon knew somewhere on her person she had her hidden daggers.

Rhaenys glared at Aegon, pushing by Jon. "You think you can say things to your own brother about his mother? He is your blood!" She jabbed her finger into his chest, knocking him back a step. Aegon flushed. he might eb able to think he could order Jon around, but Rhaenys was a different story. She was sweet and kind, until her snake fangs came out. Aegon might have the tanned skin of the Dornish, but his time with his Martell family had not done much to encourage the snake in him to emerge. Rhaenys was all Elia in her kind nature, but her uncle Oberyn got his fangs in too.

Aegon scowled at him. "It’s true! I don't know why you bother defending him. He is not a dragon. Not like us."

That was always the insult from Aegon and Viserys to him. Even with their Dornish features, Rhaenys and Aegon bore the trademark Targaryen eyes. He, on the other hand, was the spitting image of a Northerner. "We are all the blood of the dragon." Rhaenys smirked, removing her whip from her hip. She let it drop, the tip of the whip coiling in the sand. "So how about we have a dragon duel, Aegon? You think you can only beat Jon because he's a year younger than you and he has to lose on purpose? Why don't you try me?" She grinned, long and slow, eyebrows arching. "Because I have no such honor like our dear brother."

It wasn't so much honor that had him losing on purpose to Aegon but the risk of enduring the wrath of Viserys. He glanced at Dany, who smiled in support, saying nothing, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched the situation unfold.

Aegon turned pink in embarrassment at his older sister challenged him publicly. He glanced at Jaime and Oswell, but neither one of them moved. They couldn't very well defend their Crown Prince against his sister. She was their charge as well. He grit his teeth. "Fine."

"Very well. Ten paces get your sword."

"Rhaenys," Jon murmured, but she brushed him off. He sighed, going to stand beside Dany, to watch the challenge. He waited, his sword loose in his hand. He studied his sister's lazy stance, her lack of armor, her lack of swords honestly. He squinted as Aegon raised his sword.

It was over in a minute.

Aegon lunged towards her, but the whip cracked, Dany yelping at the sound, and it flew through the air, wrapping around Aegon's sword and jerking him to the ground, the metal clanging in the dirt, dragged towards Rhaenys as Aegon went face first into the dirt with a loud thud.

Everyone remained very still.

Until Rhaenys let out a triumphant yell, pointed the handle of her whip at her brother and laughed. "Well brother, I would say yield, but you seem to have lost your sword. Perhaps you might want to try again against our dear brother. He is ten times the swordsman you will ever be. You may be King, but you will need someone else to fight your battles one day. Do not let him get you by." She grinned, kicking her brother's sword to him as he jumped back up, too flustered and embarrassed to do anything but shout for Ser Oswell to help him to his chambers and Viserys screaming that someone needed to do something about his insolent niece.

Jon was amused, shaking his head at his sister. "Thank you, but you did not have to do that."

"Yes I did." She snorted, leading the way. They all fell into their usual pecking order. Rhaenys first, Dany second, and Jon bringing up the rear, with at least one Kingsguard—this time Jaime and Barristan who suddenly appeared as he was mostly Dany's sword shield—following them all several paces back. She was clearly angry. "I hate how he thinks that he can say those things about your mother, he only does it because he's jealous of you, because of what Viserys is breathing into his ear."

"Viserys wants to be Aegon's Hand one day," Dany said, rolling her eyes. She was not close at all with her brother, who was farther apart in age than her than her own nephews. She reached and looped her arm around his, so they were walking shoulder to shoulder. "Since Viserys will never be King."

"One day Aunt Arianne will stab him in his sleep I fear," Rhaenys said. Viserys and her aunt Arianne Martell had married a few years before and since Viserys refused to live in Dorne, Arianne only ever visited Kings Landing on few occasions or Dragonstone, but never for longer than a few months at a time. She had inherited Sunspear when her father Doran died and had no use for disgusting old keeps and drafty dragon dungeons, she'd said.

Jon really liked her. Arianne was basically the mother Rhaenys never had, when she would visit her in Dorne. He wanted Arya to visit there one day, he wrote to her often saying that she would love it there, where women could inherit over the men and were taught weaponry and fighting along with knitting. He felt movement ahead and his mind connected to Ghost, who appeared from a corridor as they ascended from the training yards to the royal chambers.

He needed to clean up from training, but it seemed Dany had other ideas. She pulled him away from Rhaenys, who only winked at him. He turned pink, ignoring his sister and hurrying down one of the corridors behind Ghost. Dany giggled, ignoring Barristan who was calling for her not to go too far, but she darted behind another corridor wall, shouting back. "We'll be fine! See you at supper!"

"Princess!"

It was too late; they had already dodged into one of the secret passageways and escaped down a few levels to their grotto. Ghost jumped into the sand from the platform, before leaping into the waves rolling up onto the small beach from between the massive obsidian rocks hiding the entrance to the castle from anyone on the sea, unless of course you already knew it was there.

He helped Dany down from the platform, leaving his sword and training armor behind. They both took off their boots and climbed into the little rowboat he dragged from its hidden tarp, climbing in and pushing away from the shore. Ghost swam along as far as he felt like it before turning back to go sun on a couple of the flat rocks that were close to the shoreline.

They said nothing until they had dropped the little anchor a bit from the beach, but still hidden by the craggy cliffs. He fell backwards into the boat, staring up at the sun as Dany stretched beside him. She propped her head on her hand, looking down at him and smiling. "I could stay here forever," she whispered.

He smiled. "Me too."

"Rhaenys told me something."

"Oh?"

"She was sneaking around in the passages near the Small Council chambers. it seems the match has been approved, accepted, signed and sealed, our dear Aegon will be marrying Margaery Tyrell as soon as he turns sixteen."

That was in another year. He glanced at her, knowing she was worried. He took her hand, kissing her knuckles. "It will be alright," he whispered. There had been no further talk or announcements regarding Dany and Robb. He hoped to the gods that whatever discussion Rhaegar had had with Ned hadn't gone well and perhaps it had gone away.

"It will be announced soon enough," Dany whispered, dropping her head to his shoulder. She closed her eyes. "I want to go to Essos again."

"So have them take you again." Dany had been allowed to go on a long tour of Essos twice now, once while he was at Winterfell and again the previous year. She had ventured to all the Free Cities and was even trying to convince Rhaegar to let her go to Meereen. She was fascinated by the cultures over there and how they governed, ruled, and lived. She took to languages like a duck to water and had even met , freed, and brought over a young girl, Missandei, who was her handmaiden and her closest friend besides him and Rhaenys.

She pushed her nose into his shoulder, fiddling with the ties of the neck of his tunic. She sighed, face lifting back to the warm sky. "I can't believe the Starks always say, 'winter is coming' when it is as nice as it is here on Dragonstone."

He loved Dragonstone; much preferred it to King's Landing. It reminded him a bit of Winterfell, with the motifs of dragons and its hidden secrets and ancient history. He fiddled with one of the silver bells in her hair. The water lapped at the boat, rocking them into a gentle silence. Their escape when they were on Dragonstone. He turned his face to her, unsure what he was feeling. Everything was all confusing when it came to Dany.

She pushed his shoulders back into the rowboat, kissing him lightly. He kissed her back. Since his return to Kings Landing, they hadn't really spoken about what they'd done in the tower, but their visit to Dragonstone a few months before had started something. They grew bolder, the sweet gentle pecks becoming longer, drawn out, and stealing away to hide in alcoves. Until they found their grotto and escaped in the boat for a bit. He prodded her lips open with his tongue, swallowing her moan as he deepened the kiss further.

They lay there for a long time, just kissing, ignoring their responsibilities and what they had to face when they rowed back to the shore. After a long time, Dany pushed up from him, staring in the opposite direction of Dragonstone, towards Essos. She took a deep breath, whispering. “Alysanne and Jaeherys are our favorites.”

“Aye.”

“When her mother wanted Alysanne to marry, she flew on her dragon to this island and told Jaeherys and they were married that evening.” She looked down at him, reaching to thread her fingers into his, whispering. “She’s kind of my hero.”

He smiled; he knew she loved Alysanne in the same way he idolized his namesake Daeron. And Aemon the Dragonknight. He squeezed her hand, knowing what she was getting at, but he did not think they would need to go that far. “Rhaegar will listen,” he whispered.

“No, he has not listened so far.”

Maybe someone else needs to convince him. He sat up, reaching back to fiddle with her braids, the bell in her hair tinkling lightly in the breeze. He kissed her, holding her to him for a few more moments, before he pulled away and touched his forehead to hers, whispering. “Just do not do anything yet.”

“And when I do, take you with me?” she teased.

He did not answer, but…yes. She kissed him quickly, knocking him sideways as she climbed over the oars and moved to the side of the boat. “Come on, it’s hot.” She shucked off her leathers and dove in just her small clothes and thin tunic into the crystal blue water, silencing all further talk of their future. For now. He sighed and pulled off his tunic, jumping over into the water after her.

They swam for a time, before paddling back to shore, hiding their boat, and then lounging in the grotto. When they tired of swimming and looking for rocks, strange sealife, and shells, Dany built a miniature Dragonstone with wet sand while he tried to untangle knots in Ghost's wet fur, cursing his direwolf for rolling in the sand after his journey into the surf. Dany laughed and once he gave up, they went back up into the castle.

A few weeks later, Jon sat in his chambers, writing a message to Arya, when there was a soft knock on the door. He glanced up as it opened, Rhaenys appearing. "What are you doing?" he asked, setting his quill down.

Rhaenys closed the door, rolling her eyes. "Jaime is asleep at the end of the corridor. Hopefully you don't have an assassin."

"Well Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold will have to stop Viserys and Aegon, after what you did earlier."

She grinned, flopping onto his bed. At almost eighteen years old, Rhaenys was a great beauty. Some say she looked exactly like her mother, but he knew she favored Rhaegar's facial features. She was willowy and had his height and Jon wondered how she had managed to fend off any marriage matches. She looked over at him, fiddling with a tassel on one of his pillows. "I wanted to talk to you about Dany."

He glanced over again, warming. "Yeah?"

She climbed off the bed, going to sit at the table with him. She leaned over, her hand covering his, whispering, dark eyes earnest. "Jon, I know you love her. Don't deny it."

"Of course I do!" Dany was his family.

Rhaenys cocked her head, dark curls escaping from her braids. She arched her brows, whispering. "I'm not talking like how you love me Jon." Her fingers squeezed his wrist. He fidgeted, feeling warm. he didn't want to talk to her about this. She chuckled. "I know you think it's gross, talking to your big sister about these things, but I see it. If I see it, so does Father. So does everyone."

"Father doesn't care what we want," he whispered, letting go of her hand. He knocked his parchment and quill aside, getting up from the chair, angrily beginning to pace around his room. He threw his arms out, shouting. "I am fourteen and have nothing right now! My greatest prospect is going to the damn Wall like Uncle Aemon did! I am the second son; I am nothing to Father." He clenched his fists, growling. "And Dany is just a way to secure the North forever. To carry on the Targaryen line. As are you." He scowled. "And you have avoided marriage so far. how?"

She grinned, cocking her head. "Jon, I have avoided marriage because I am the daughter of the King. Yes, everyone wants to marry their sons to me, but have you looked around? There are not many sons. Rhaegar wants to marry Dany off first because she is a true Targaryen, pure blood and all. She ranks higher in that order of things with the cocks that decide our futures. I have the Martell name behind me, there are more than enough heirs to Sunspear and we offer nothing to the Westerlands or the Reach." She rolled her eyes. "I may have been married to Robb Stark." She frowned, whispering. "I will speak to Father about it. I could be a better match. Binding Martell, Targaryen, and Stark together."

His heart leaped into his throat. First, it meant Dany would not have to marry Robb, but second, because it would mean his sister would have to instead. he shook his head hard. "No, no I do not want you to do that."

"Jon, I don't like..." Rhaenys paused. She rolled her eyes, chuckling. She flicked her fingers over a spare quill on the table, sighing. "Let us say that Lady Greyjoy and I have struck up...a friendship of sorts." Her dark eyes shined, amused, teasing. She crossed her legs delicately, examining her nails. "I would only serve a man to house his child and even that would not be desirable." She grinned. "I am attempting to make a match with Loras Tyrell, if Father will not let me get away with remaining husband-less."

He slammed his brows together. "But Loras...everyone knows..." It occurred to him then, what she was saying. His eyes widened in surprise. "Oh..." Rhaenys grinned, nodding when he realized exactly what she was saying. He rushed over to sit across from her again, suddenly curious. wondering how he had not known before. "But...really?"

"You never noticed? While Dany was staking her claim on you at the age of three, I was not interested in playing husband and wife. I do not..." She wrinkled her nose, making a face. "I never have been interested in the opposite sex like that."

He gaped at her. He was not an idiot; he knew that one could love anyone of their choosing—the gods fashioned them for love, as Maester Aemon wrote to him. He just never ever wanted to think of his sister in those terms. He made a face quickly and shuddered. “Rhaenys I don’t…I don’t want to hear about that! Your life is your life!”

“Oh I can’t tell you about my sex life when I have to walk in on you and Dany kissing everywhere in this damn castle?” she teased.

He flushed. “Shut up!”

She grinned again, flicking more pieces of parchment at him, making kissing noises and pursing her lips. “Jon loves Dany! Jon loves Dany!” She squealed when he jumped over the table towards her, laughing and trying to run off as he grabbed her, his fingers digging into her sides where he knew she was ticklish, and sure enough she began to cry with laughter, kicking and trying to get him to stop as he laughed. “Jon stop it! Alright, alright, I yield!”

“Ha! I beat Princess Rhaenys, that has to be a first,” he said, rocking back on his heels as she caught her breath, pushing up to her feet. He peered up at her, seeing the relief and gratefulness shining back at him. He knew she was worried of his opinion. He got up and hugged her tight. “You’re my sister Rhaenys. I love you.”

She smiled, squeezing him hard. “I love you too Jon.” She pulled back, tweaking his nose, quiet. “You know you hold a lot of power with Father. I don’t think you quite realize it. It is why Viserys and Aegon get jealous of you.” She cocked her head, studying him. After a moment, her lip twitched upward. “You do not seem to understand, all you have to do is ask.”

Ask what? He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“It will come to you.” She kissed is forehead, like he was small again and she was seeing him off to bed. “Good night Jon.”

He reached and grabbed at her hand, turning her back to look at him. “Does Dany know?” he whispered. He just wanted to make sure, but he was fairly certain Dany knew just about everything.

Rhaenys rolled her eyes. “Dany’s known for as long as I think I have known.” She smiled again. “Just like I knew about you two.” She pointed to him, eyebrows arching. “Think about it Jon, but don’t think too hard. The answer is there, you just have to come to it yourself, because I can’t do everything for you.”

He hated it when she spoke in riddles. When anyone spoke in riddles, honestly. He preferred things to be more straightforward. Which was why politics and the like was too annoying for him to deal with. He groaned, hitting his hands over his face and falling backwards onto his bed, the door closing as Rhaenys departed. He kept his hands there for a long time, running through her words, over and over again.

Aegon was jealous of him. Why? Aegon was the Crown Prince.

Aegon never had the bond he had with Rhaenys and Dany. He was in Dorne most of his childhood, then he was in Viserys’s constant presence. Viserys was alright when you got him on a good day, otherwise he could be petulant and cruel. Jon never quite understood why, but he guessed Viserys saw things and experienced things under Aerys that no one should have to endure. He did not think witnessing your mother’s death would help either. Rhaenys and Aegon were too young to remember Elia’s death.

Why would they be jealous?

Rhaegar

It dawned on him. He stared ahead, eyes widening. It was right there. All he had to do was ask. Rhaegar listened. He closed his mouth, feeling quite like a fish in that moment. “I have to do something,” eh whispered. He wasn’t sure what. He probably should wait. Wait until they got back to King’s Landing, but…

It might be too late.

He got to his feet, reaching for his boots and pulling them on, before hurrying from his rooms. Sure enough, Jaime was asleep at the end of the corridor, giving him free reign to slip away.

He was not sure what he was doing, but he found himself not long later standing in front of his father's rooms. Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Gerold was on night duty, nodding to him and getting up from his posting. "Your Grace," he said. He frowned. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I need to speak to my father," he said.

Ser Gerold glanced at the door, with its engraved three-headed dragon mounted in obsidian in the center. He frowned further. "His Grace did not want to be disturbed."

"It is important."

The White Bull muttered something like kids before he knocked lightly on the door. There was a sound of a chair scraping from inside and Jon tightened his fists at his side, fully prepared for his father to dismiss him. He waited as the door tugged back, Rhaegar curiously peering out. "Gerold?" he asked, voice soft. "Is everything alright?"

"Prince Jon wished to speak to you."

Rhaegar glanced beyond; Jon saw his father's normally bright indigo eyes were dull, dark shadows beneath them. He had never really seen his father after the days were done. He knew Dany used to sneak into Rhaegar's rooms when she was small, after she had bad dreams, and sleep in his bed, but he never did. When he had bad dreams, he usually fretted them out and somehow Dany knew he was in distress and always came to him and comforted him.

His father blinked, surprised. He nodded; voice quiet. "Jon...is everything alright?"

"I need to speak to you," he whispered, holding his ground. He was not going to leave until Rhaegar met with him.

He pulled the door back farther, gesturing. "Come in."

Once Jon was inside the chambers that used to belong to Aegon the Conqueror, he realized he hadn't been in here since he was little. He looked at the wide stretch of open wall on one side, arches looking down over the cliffs and hearing the waves crash at the rocks. He was not sure what to do or where to go, so he took his father's lead and went after him into an adjacent room, where it seemed Rhaegar had been reading before the fire.

He sat in one of the chairs in front of the fire as his father took the opposite seat. Rhaegar looked tired, his silver hair pulled back in a queue, but strands hanging around his thin face. His tunic was untucked, and laces undone around his neck. He leaned back and folded his hands in front of him, waiting for Jon to speak. Jon took a deep breath, blurting out. "I don't think Dany should marry Robb Stark."

There. I said it.

Rhaegar arched a brow. "Oh?"

He nodded quickly. "Dany...she would not want me here defending her. I know she's told you she does not want to go North."

"Loudly," Rhaegar said with a smirk. He exhaled the breath he'd been holding, looking down at his hands. He was about to speak again, to launch into the speech he had practiced about how it wasn't fair Dany was going North, what could the North provide, she should be allowed to go to Essos, she should be allowed to live her life and not be tied to marriage, who cares what the laws and the customs said, when Rhaegar spoke again. "She will not marry him."

"I do not think she...." Jon stopped, cut off. His father smiled at him again. He frowned. "What?"

"She will not marry Robb Stark," Rhaegar said, quiet. He gazed into the fire, his fingers waving in the air like they did sometimes when he was thinking. It took a long time for Jon to realize that his father was actually playing a harp in the air, his long fingers following the same way he did when he was on his favored instrument. It looked like int hat moment that he was drawing the lames of the fire up though, the glow casting his thin face into shadow. "I made a mistake, thinking I could arrange a marriage for Dany. Or Rhaenys." He glanced to him, whispering. "Or even you, Jon."

His eyes widened. "Me?"

"Yes." He sighed hard. "Aegon must marry someone who will be beneficial to the Crown, it is his duty as the Crown Prince, but here is the thing Jon." He glanced sideways, suddenly quite sad. "I was married to Elia and I loved her very much. We were very fond of each other, but...but we did not love each other the way Dany or Rhaenys dream of love. I had two children with her, but..." He trailed off, hesitating. He blew out a hard breath. "It was your mother who took my heart."

It was a peculiar thing, when Rhaegar spoke about Lyanna Stark. Jon straightened up. He almost thought he could smell blue winter roses then. "Oh?"

"Everyone knows it caused a war." He closed his eyes, clearly pained, reaching to touch his fingers to his forehead, whispering. "I thought I could remedy things with the North by sending you there for a time...it was your duty. It was necessary, but...I will never be liked there. Marrying my sister to the Lord of Winterfell will do nothing in the long term but make her angry, vengeful, and possibly cause another war."

"War?"

Rhaegar smirked. "Your sister exaggerates in her convincing arguments. I suppose it is the Dornish in her."

Thank the gods for Rhaenys. He thought of what Rhaenys told him, lifting his gaze back up to his father, who was still smiling. Both silver brows arched. "I have made a mistake, trying to raise you all to be independent and yet also try to remain in keeping with the traditions and expectations of this realm." He chuckled, shaking his head, whispering. "You are my son, Jon, ever dutiful, but you have the wolf's blood."

He felt warm; he never thought he did. Until he got so angry, he couldn't see. He just assumed it was the dragon. "I don't," he mumbled.

"Oh you do. Dany and Rhaenys are fiery dragons, but you my son are the ever-watchful wolf. Until such time you must protect your pack." He cocked his head. "For that is why you came tonight. To speak to me about Dany and try to keep her from a marriage she doesn't want." He paused again, whispering. "One you do not want."

"I don't want it," he said. He felt the heat rise inside of him again, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair, gray eyes growing dark. "I don't want her to marry anyone...unless she wants to."

He nodded again, sighing and gazing into the flames again. "You were all so little," he whispered, almost to himself. He smiled again, at whatever memory. "Running through the keep. Rhaenys, then Dany, and then you. I fear in trying to raise Viserys and Aegon, one who needed guidance and the other the future king, I did not give you the time you needed." He sighed, shoulders slumping, and he sagged a bit more into his chair.

Jon always thought his father was young, vibrant, and the smartest person eh knew. He knew he didn't like fighting, that he carried Dark Sister because it was hist duty and right as a Targaryen and as the King, but he would never use it in battle if he could help it. He learned war and fighting was always a last resort. He did not seem to realize that his father had somehow aged in all the time he'd known him. He was tired, haggard even, and it made sense, he supposed. Keeping peace after the horrors that his father Aerys had wrought on the kingdom, after Robert rebelled and hundreds of thousands lost their lives. He'd buried two wives, killed his own father, and had to rush immediately to Dragonstone to find his mother dead and a newborn sister in need of care.

He raised us the best he could, Jon thought. They did not have nursemaids all too often, they dined with him as much as possible. He tried to braid Rhaenys and Dany's hair and he allowed them to play in his study before falling asleep on the carpets while he worked into the night.

He pulled his shoulders back, whispering. "You raised us fine, Father," he said, quiet.

Rhaegar smiled sadly. "I hope so." He cocked his head a little more, curious. "Jon, do you know why you always learned in my study and sat in on Small Council meetings over Aegon?"

"No." He had a feeling, but he didn't want to admit it.

"Because," he whispered. He got up and went over to his desk, rummaging in a drawer before he walked over, carrying a piece of parchment. He handed it to him, quiet. "I will do nothing until the day you want me to. Until then, nothing changes."

Jon took the parchment, curious, and looked at the scrawling handwriting of his father, his eyes widening and heart catching. It was as Rhaenys said. He never should have doubted her.

I, Rhaegar of House Targaryen, King of Seven Kingdoms, the Rhoynar, the Andals, and the First Men, and Protector of the Realm, decree my trueborn son Jon of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone by my second wife Lady Lyanna of House Stark, and my trueborn sister Daenerys of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, to be my lawful heirs, to share all wealth, lands, titles, and ruling equally between them.

He ran his thumb over the signature at the bottom, his exclamation strangled in his throat.

Witnessed in person, attesting to the sound mind and body of the King, I verify with my signature, Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell

Rhaegar spoke softly. "You both are the ones who will carry on the Targaryen name one day. Whether you marry or not, it is up to you both to rule in my stead. Only if you want it. only when you are ready." He swallowed hard, voice cracking. "Aegon will not like it of course, but he is not...he is not what this realm needs."

"What about Rhaenys?" he whispered, although he already knew the answer.

"Rhaenys wants to see the world. She is more like her uncle than anything, perhaps I let him train her too much," Rhaegar tried to laugh, but he seemed sad. he sighed. "Rhaenys would die in this role, Jon. You and Dany though...you both would thrive." He took the parchment, rolling it back up and placing it back in the desk. "Ultimately this will remain here. I will only move to decree it when it is necessary. If you are willing." He closed the drawer with a loud thud. "I made the mistake trying to tell Dany who to marry. I will not make that mistake again and order you to do something you do not wish to do." He smirked. "Your mother would have my head."

He got up from his chair, rather unsteady, and went to stand in front of his father. He had come there that evening solely to ask him to reconsider Dany's arranged marriage, but this was...this was not at all what he thought he wanted. Or what he would hear ever. "Thank you," he murmured, unsure what else to say. He was numb.

Rhaegar leaned forward and dropped a kiss to the crown of his head, before pulling him in for a tight hug. "Go to sleep Jon. This is supposed to be a holiday away from Kings Landing, lessons, and the like." He turned him around, nudging him back towards the door, following after him. "I'm sure you are having a fine time running the White Cloaks ragged hiding in grottoes and everything."

He tried not to laugh, because it was true. He opened the door, jumping back when Ser Gerold moved to knock. "Ah, it seems you are quite popular this evening, Your Grace."

Dany swung around the White Bull, knocking him sideways from the force. "I do not need you to announce me!" She opened her mouth to demand further audience, when she realized Jon was standing there. She blinked. "Oh. Jon."

"I believe you both need to speak," Rhaegar said, nudging him towards her. He shook his head, glancing at Ser Gerold, who was smiling. "If anyone else wishes to see me this evening, I am otherwise occupied."

"I will let them know," Gerold chuckled.

Jon walked off down the corridor with Dany, after Rhaegar shut the door, leaving them to speak. he waited until they were back in her chambers, Ser Jaime not blinking an eye when he walked in and closed the door. They could only get away with being alone together at night when it was Jaime on guard duty. He pulled Dany into his arms, unsure where to begin. He closed his eyes and held her, whispering. "Don't worry. You aren't going anywhere."

He felt her smile into his shoulder, a happy sigh escaping her. "Oh good." She pulled back, tapping her finger to the tip of his nose, an eyebrow lifting. "Because we still have to find dragons and we certainly can't do that if I am the Lady of Winterfell." She dropped a kiss to his lips, her eyes darkening. She hesitated and then lifted her brows, whispering. "I love you Jon."

The warmth that filled him whenever he was in Dany's presence magnified itself tenfold. He seemed to forget all that he still had to tell her. He smiled, rather dopey, like he was drunk, and replied: "I love you too Dany."

Chapter Text

Jon would never admit it to anyone, but he actually kind of liked the Wall.

Perhaps it wasn't the freezing, mind-numbing cold or the constant presence of murderers and rapists wandering about or the never-ending wind, the swirls of snow and ice that stuck to your eyelashes, and the mutterings of "King Snow" under the breath of some of the supporters of Robert Baratheon who had been sent to the North to live out the rest of their days manning the Wall. They thought him a Northern bastard, courtesy of Lyanna's betrayal of their chosen king.

He liked the Wall because he liked the idea of the Night's Watch. No allegiances other than to their brotherhood, serving until death, and keeping watch over the realm from unknown beings that lurked in the Haunted Forest and even farther North. He supposed it was his wolf's blood that preferred it.

Or it was the fact that he could actually sit with his Uncle Aemon, who could have been a king. He loved to listen to the stories Aemon told of his brother "Egg" and speak of a time long gone. He knew Dany enjoyed it too, even if she detested the cold, but she made the journey North with him to visit Aemon, a gift Rhaegar granted after much pleading and begging he be allowed to go that far, claiming he could let him do so as a way to celebrate his seventeenth nameday.

So Rhaegar let them both go North. He would be taking a short journey to the Vale anyway, Aegon and Viserys accompanying him. There had been no further talk of the will Rhaegar kept hidden away, everyone in the realm and the family still believing that Aegon was the heir. He was still the Crown Prince after all. Jon did not want to have another Dance of Dragons and he worried that that would occur, so he kept his mouth closed. He knew Rhaegar wanted him to be King, but he...he was not sure of himself.

He was here to escape, maybe, he thought, staring out the window of the dusty library at Castle Black. He listened as Dany read aloud from the Jade Compendium, stories of the old dragonlords of Essos, while Aemon rested, his bones frail from the chilling winds that had been hammering them for the last few days.

"Oh uncle, I should love to have a dragon," Dany sighed, turning the page. she reached for his hand, squeezing and smiling. She reached his fingers up so he could trace her face, sense her happiness. "Each time I go to Essos I wonder if perhaps there are some in the Shadowlands or in Old Valyria."

"I haev no doubt my child, that if there are dragon eggs remaining, you will find them in due time," Aemon said, patting her face.

"Rhaegar wants me to go back to Pentos after we return," she said. She sighed. "I am hopeful that Magister Ilyrio Mopatis has good news for me when I get there. I told you Uncle, that he claims to have located some dragon eggs from the Shadowlands beyond Ass'hai."

Aemon framed her face, still smiling, whispering. "And you will bring the dragons back, I have no doubt."

Jon continued staring out the window, unsure why he felt ill at ease. He wondered if it was because Ghost had been rather frantic that morning, pacing and panting, wanting to go into the forest and then returning, only to go back out again. It was as if he weer waiting on something. He turned, intending to let them both know he would be going to find his wolf, when there was an immediate pounding on the door.

No one waited for Aemon or them to allow them entry, before it swung open, Lord Commander Jeor Mormont appearing, the Old Bear clutching a torn letter in his hand, almost panting from the exertion of hurrying to the library and the Maester's chambers. "Your Graces," he exclaimed, glancing first to Dany and then to Jon. He held the letter, reaching out to Dany who was closest, immediate concern in her pale features. "A rider from Winterfell, the ravens have been unable to fly due to a storm, but they are on the way."

"What is the matter?" Dany asked, but Jon knew.

He wasn't sure how he did, perhaps the foreboding he had sensed, the urgency within his wolf. He closed his eyes, not wanting to read the letter as Dany tore into it, staring at the words. He reached for her, unconsciously, as she sobbed out, sagging against him.

"Child?" Aemon whispered, reaching for her. "What is it?"

"Rhaegar..." she trailed off, her hand clutched to her heart. She swallowed hard, a howl leaving her. "They're...they're gone."

Mormont looked to her, confused. "Your Grace?"

"They're dead," Jon said, without having to read the letter. He took it from her, allowing her to fold into him, sobbing. He scanned it quickly, confirming his fears. His worry. He closed his eyes again, burying his face into her hair for a brief moment before he glanced to Mormont. He kept his voice even. "There was a storm and their ship was wrecked on the coast near Storm's End and Breakwater Bay. King Rhaegar and Prince Viserys did not survive the wreckage, their bodies are being kept at Storm's End. Prince Aegon has been taken to the Velaryons in the Driftmark for care, he is alive." He glanced at Dany. "Princess Rhaenys remains in Dorne with Princess Arianne." He crumpled the paper in his fist, cold fingers digging into his palm, too numb to feel the pain. His voice croaked. "Prince Aegon is the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and has received provisional crowning." He glanced to Dany, whispering. "All hail King Aegon."

The Old Bear looked at them both before he bowed his head. "Your Graces, we must prepare you to journey back to Winterfell."

"It will be faster to go to Eastwatch and take a ship," he said, before Mormont could depart to begin arranging their travel plans. He did not want to go near Winterfell. He knew soon a raven would appear, if it had not already, from his uncle, reminding him of the piece of parchment at Dragonstone. He felt his shoulders sag under the weight, unable to stand any longer, falling backwards into a chair by the window, Dany falling into his arms as well.

The door closed, leaving the Targaryens to grieve, Aemon silently crying behind them, once more the survivor over his kin, who should have long outlived him. He clutched Dany, who had not broken contact with him. He didn't know what to do. "I can't have another Dance of Dragons," he breathed.

She traced away the tears that had begun to trickle down his cheeks, tears he had not even noticed. Her forehead dropped to his, her nose brushing as she murmured against his lips. "It was Rhaegar's wishes."

"Aegon does not even know," he replied. He swallowed hard, his brother the eldest, but who had been rather petulant growing up. Impatient and angry, which Rhaegar had viewed as qualities unbecoming of a ruler, compared to the quiet Northern child's patience and attention. He had had his path predetermined, but because he did not act the way Rhaegar wanted, that whole path could be upended. He closed his eyes tight, silently cursing his father.

Rhaegar caused a war because he ran off with the wrong woman. Rhaegar could cause another because he wanted me over his other son to rule.

If he came forward, people would say it forged. Eddard Stark was not the one who should have signed that fucking will. It should have been someone else, from a family that did not seek to benefit as greatly as the North would should he and Dany take the throne. The Vale and the Riverlands would go for him. The Stormlands likely would, as he was friends with Lord Gendry Baratheon, the Lord of Storm's End. Dorne would split, but even with Rhaenys at the helm for him, they could stay out of it. The Reach and the west would bully for Aegon and they had all the wheat and grain...save for the Iron Islands who would support him.

Fuck.

"I don't want this," he whispered.

Dany pressed her face into his, whispering. "What do you want?"

"I don't know."

They sat with Aemon for a time, comforting him as he cried. Neither of them could process, comforting their uncle, who had put too many Targaryen ashes in the ground. They left the library, with Jaime and Barristan as their guard, both of the Kingsguard solemn and sad, trying to hide their emotions.

He stopped hard, outside the chambers he kept, before they walked Dany to the ones beside his. "Ser Arthur," he breathed, staring at them both. "Oswell..."

They exchanged a look and Barristan nodded, whispering. "Gone. As was Ser Gerold. They were all on the ship. Aegon is the only survivor, save for a few of the sailors."

He could not be there. he had to disappear. He exchanged a look with Dany, who nodded. He took her hand, pulling her to his rooms. "We need to be alone, to grieve," he said. It was not entirely a lie. The guards nodded and took their posts, Jaime cursing the cold under his breath. Their white armor and cloaks did little to shield them against the wind in the corridors.

Once the door was shut, he rushed to the trunk at the end of the bed, kicking it open and grabbing what he thought they might need. He called for Ghost, via whatever connection they shared, and knew the wolf would be waiting. While he threw things into a sack, Dany was taking what remained of the food that was kept on a table at all times in his rooms, shoving them into a scarf. She grabbed the flagon of wine and a couple waterskins that were sitting there, pressing them into his hands.

They were well protected from the cold, having to go back and forth between the library and the Lord Commander's tower, where they stayed. He went to the window, grunting as he lifted it up, his anger and pain assisting with the considerable strength he had to summon to get the warped old wood to move. It opened and he glanced out, seeing that it led to an eave. He helped Dany, who slipped easily down the sloping eave, before she swung, with the nimbleness of a cat, from one of the posts and lightly dropping to the snow. He followed, ensuring to bring his sword, in case they needed it.

They rushed around the corners, slinking carefully around the walls and he spied the gate was open. he took her hand, her silver hair covered with the hood of her black cloak. With his black furs and leather, he looked like another Night's Watch brother and they left easily and without notice, snagging a horse on their way from the castle. They didn't mount the horse until they were a bit away, before he dug his heels in, Dany cushioned in front of him for extra warmth-- for him, not her-- riding hard and fast from Castle Black.

They rode hard and fast, to where Jon intended them to go. He wanted to get as far from the confines of Castle Black as possible, but knew they couldn't get as far as Winterfell-- not that he wanted to go there either. He remembered a place when he was younger, where he used to escape by himself when needed space from Theon Greyjoy's taunts and Robb's constant preening or Ned's wistful looks.

He carefully navigated the horse into the ravine, over to a series of waterfalls and hot springs pool. He tied the horse up and gave the beast water, while Dany marveled at the beauty of the hidden lagoon. He tugged down the pack, slinging it over his shoulder and offering her his hand. They maneuvered around the hot spring and along the craggy walls, slipping into a crack that led to a cave behind the waterfalls.

It was warm in the cave, slightly damp along the edge from the spray of the water, but dry the farther in you moved. He set everything down, not thinking, because if he thought about things he would break, and he accomplished small tasks like starting a fire and laying out furs for them to sit, he would not start crying or thinking about the fact that when he returned to King's Landing his father would not be there.

He would not get to sit in his study and listen to him argue with Olenna or Petyr Baelish or Jon Connington. He wouldn't pretend to beat Oberyn in duels again. He would never hear his voice singing as he played the harp. He would never don a cloak and cover his silver hair and disappear into the streets to listen to the common folk complain about their government, to take their complaints back to the Small Council to fix. There would be no more Rhaegar Targaryen.

Because he was gone.

It hurt, it hurt so badly, that he could no longer look to his father for guidance on how to be a man.

Or scream at him for what he'd done. Causing a war, not being able to pick the right son as his heir, and leaving them with a possible civil war on their hands if he ever did anything about that fucking parchment.

Rhaenys had lost both her parents now. She remembered Elia, whereas Aegon and he did not. Aegon had no one. Jon was alone too. He might have Ned, but what good did that do him when all Ned could ever do was stare at him as if he was constantly seeing a ghost?

And Dany...

He lifted his gaze to her, seeing her unbuttoning her long black coat. She set it down under her, beside him, and sat on it, her knees drawn to her chest. Her dress was lined with thick fur and he could see a bead of sweat on her brow. "Dragon blood," he whispered, reaching to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"I am the last dragon," she breathed, staring at the crackling flames. Her hand reached out, clutching his. She turned, her face pale, but her violet eyes were burning as hot as the fire in front of them. When she spoke, it was with the coldness that the dragons possessed, before they turned and burned everything to the ground. "We will get through this, you and I. We always have Jon. From the moment I knew anything, I knew you. Whatever Rhaegar wanted, we must do what is best for the world and right now..." She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, only allowing a couple tears to escape before she turned her face to the flames. She leaned forward and touched her fingers into the heat, playing with them as a child would rocks. "Right now is not the time."

They were too young. So was Aegon, but he was always the Crown Prince. "The realm can't handle a civil war, another Dance of Dragons," he breathed. It would be something else if Rhaegar had died of old age. This was too sudden. They would need to mourn, they would need someone they had always thought would be king. The people knew Aegon's face and name. He swallowed hard again. It was up to Aegon now. "I don't know if I want to be here without him, Dany."

She leaned against him, her arms going around his neck, playing with his hair and touching her forehead to his. He realized she was slowly pulling herself into his lap, her skirt hiking up as she draped her leg on the other side of his hip. He felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach, a tickle at the base of his spine, beginning to track up and spread through his body, unable to focus when she kissed him.

This was different.

Rhaenys made fun of him because he was older than all the boys she knew and he still had not been with a woman. He tried never to talk to her about it because she was relentless. He saved face with Robb and Aegon because he had Dany with him at all times. They just assumed. Except they had never gone beyond merely bringing each other to pleasure using fingers and tongues. He knew it was changing, knew it would be different now.

He began to pull at the bodice of her dress while her fingers yanked at the ties of his gambeson. "Dany," he breathed against her. he tore away first, staring at her swollen lips and her flushed cheeks. The question passed unasked, the consent given with only a brief nod of her head before they were kissing again, consumed in their grief, anger, frustration, and desire for each other.

They both fell over to the side into the pile of furs, a tangle of limbs and teeth and tongues, forgetting everything that existed beyond the walls around them.

“I would congratulate you, dear brother, if we were not all mad with grief.”

The dry words from his older sister managed a tug of a smile on his lips. He barely glanced over his shoulder; voice cool. “I have no idea of what you speak, dear sister.” He eventually turned completely, reaching his arms up to embrace Rhaenys, who was not in her characteristic warm tones of the Martell family, but in Targaryen black, the same color as her hair, which was bound at the base of her neck in a rather tight bun, an odd silver contraption caging in her curls and threading through them along the crown of her head.

They had been in King’s Landing, for the funerals of Rhaegar and Viserys, their bodies were located in the wreckage. Jon had stared at what remained of his father’s bones, after a Maester had cleaned and prepared them for burial. Draped in the Targaryen standard, with the crown set atop them and Dark Sister gleaming as nobles and smallfolk alike were allowed to walk by in procession to pay their respects and grieve. Viserys’s body was in no state for any sort of viewing, even under the standard, and he would be buried appropriately in the tombs.

Dany had been beside herself, screaming that Targaryens burned in death, they could not place them in catacombs beneath the feet of the people. Aegon had refused to hear otherwise, he wanted to be able to visit with his father’s gravestone. It was a very Northern thing, Jon thought, to bury the dead beneath the feet of the living. He would have said so, if Aegon had been in any right mind to hear it, but his brother had been consumed with confusing feelings, torn between recovering from wounds endured during the wreck, night terrors remembering the storm, becoming the King, and of course his upcoming marriage to Margaery Tyrell, who would now become the first non-Targaryen queen the Kingdoms had seen since Elia’s short reign before her death, and before that no one could remember.

They had sailed for Dragonstone immediately after, the only place where he and Dany felt they belonged at this time.

He clutched Rhaenys, eyes burning, so glad to see her. “Have you spoken to Aegon yet?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she whispered, her arms tightening on him. “He is…he is not in a right mind to rule.”

“I suppose that is why Tyrion Lannister is still here.” Jon Connington had succumbed to greyscale the previous year, the Dwarf of Casterly Rock taking up the mantle as Hand of the King. He never really trusted the youngest Lannister, but he liked him right enough. He did not like how he gazed at Dany though. Then again, Jon supposed he would not like anyone gazing at his Dany.

Rhaenys pulled back, wiping at her eyes, still smiling at him, her nose wrinkling. “You left King’s Landing for the North with Dany as something else.”

He cocked his head, shaking his head at her. “You are unbelievable,” he mumbled, warming with embarrassment. It was a constant emotion he always felt with his sister. He sat down beside her on a bench near the opening of the entrance to the large balcony that looked upon the mainland of Westeros. He could not stand to be in King’s Landing any longer, so he came this way with Dany. Their short time in mourning there was ruined when Aegon arrived, claiming he wanted the sea air to help him recover.

During the time of their father’s funeral, Rhaenys had been in Dorne, helping her aunt and traveling with the bones of Arthur Dayne to Starfall, where his sister Ashara had been so distraught she had attempted to take her life. She stayed to assist her, as well as the young Lord Edric Dayne. It seemed Gendry Baratheon’s men had located Dawn, the ancestral sword of House Dayne washed up on the shore near Storm’s End, and she had gone to take it as well, bringing it back through to Dorne.

So many months had passed. He no longer could remember Rhaegar’s laugh or song. Could hardly see his face sometimes. It was so odd, to go into his rooms here at Dragonstone and not see him sitting awake in front of the fire with letters or a book or his harp. He threaded his fingers into Rhaenys’s, squeezing lightly. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. She patted his hand, sighing hard, eyes focused on him. After a long time, she finally spoke. “When are you and Dany going to get married?”

It didn’t go unnoticed that she used when instead of if or just posting it as a simple yes or no question. They certainly wanted to get married; it would make things easier. Every night they spent together; they were never apart since that evening in the cave in the North. Their entire dynamic had shifted. There was no such thing as too much of each other, sometimes it felt like he was missing a piece of himself when she went away, whether it was just to change clothing in another room or when she left for the day into the village. He closed his eyes and saw her everywhere. Ghost was always at her side, sometimes more than his, as if he were there with her too.

He took a deep breath. “We must petition our King,” he murmured. They were members of the royal family; they could not just marry as they saw fit. He glanced at Rhaenys, who wrinkled her nose, clearly annoyed. He chuckled. “Dany has the same response.”

“Aegon is not fit to rule,” she whispered. She shook her head, scowling. “he has never had the temper, the patience to be King. Even as a child. He has too much of Aerys in him.” She took another deep breath, rolling her eyes. “You know what they say about us.”

The stupid saying, he knew. “Every time a Targaryen is born…” he began.

“The gods toss a coin and see which way it lands,” Rhaenys finished. She cocked her head, her shoulders slumping. “It is a childish statement, to be sure, but in some ways it is true. Look at Aerys. Look at Viserys. It is as if every generation we lose a piece of ourselves somehow, we Targaryens.” She turned away from the balcony, going back into the room. Her arms crossed over her chest, her breath beginning to come in angry puffs as her temper started to rise. “This whole thing is total bullshit. Asking the King for permission to marry, you are a Targaryen, you answer to no one.”

As much as he knew he was a Targaryen, he often felt an outsider in his home. He was more Stark than Targaryen, until the dragon rose inside of him, when he was angry or frustrated. Two emotions he often forced himself never to feel, being the second son of the King, he did not have the luxury of feeling such things, of drawing attention to himself like that. He went to his sister’s side, reaching for her hand, squeezing hard. “Rhaenys,” he murmured. He saw the tears trickling down her face then, something he hardly ever had seen, even since they were children. His heart plummeted to his stomach. “Oh Rhaenys.”

“I miss him,” she sobbed, her arms going to his neck, clutching him. She gripped her fingers around the collar of his leather vest, tugging as she held him, her face buried in his chest. He hugged her close, attempting to comfort her. It was such an odd thing, his big sister being the one to need him, instead of the other way around.

They would figure things out, he supposed, rubbing at her back, soothing her. He thought of that damn will. He closed his eyes tight, trying not to cry when his sister began to sob harder. He missed Rhaegar too. He moved her to sit on one of the settees near the fire, reaching to wipe his fingers along her cheeks as she sniffed back another onslaught of tears. She laughed, rolling her eyes, touching her fingers to her lashes, wiping off some of the fancy kohl she used to make the violet stand out more and darken the edges. “Look at me, blubbering like a babe,” she mumbled. She glanced to him again, whispering. “Jon, the will. We need to do something about it.”

Nothing. “We can’t,” he said. They could do nothing about it, lest the realm fall into chaos. It would not be what Rhaegar would want. He got up and went to where he kept it hidden, tightly coiled and kept in a hollow piece of wall, inside one of the teeth of an engraved dragon near the head of the bed. He took it out and unraveled the parchment, staring at the handwriting of his father, the words naming him and Dany as the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.

He folded it back up and returned it to the hiding place. Rhaenys moved to drape her arm over the back of the settee, whispering. “Aegon will want to marry you off as soon as possible, now that you are his heir. He will want more Targaryens, as soon as possible, until Margaery becomes with child.”

“I know.”

“And Tyrion Lannister is not going to protest when Aegon tells him to find a match for Dany.”

He growled, frustrated. It was all so fucked up. “Dany wants to leave.”

They were both silent. They knew the longer Jon and Dany remained in Westeros, the greater Aegon would likely see them as a threat to his rule. If any of the kingdoms grew to dislike his decisions or the direction of the realm, they could move to usurp him. Everyone knew more than two kingdoms would align behind them, Aegon would lose quickly. No doubt Viserys had whispered all the possibilities and ramifications into his nephew’s ear.

Rhaenys nodded, looking at her hands, twisting her fingers together. A custom in Dorne was to paint colors on the fingernails, which he thought quite odd, and he wondered how it managed to stay. Hers were bright red, as though they were bleeding. She picked at the material that coated her thumbnail with her index finger, watching some of it flake off before she glanced sideways to him again, whispering. “Then we should not waste time, shouldn’t we?”

He closed his eyes, knowing it in his heart it had to happen. He nodded, reaching to take her hand, squeezing hard. He lifted his face to the door, Rhaenys turning, as it pushed open, Ghost wandering in ahead of Dany. She had been relatively ill of late, so he was pleased to see her face did not look so wane.

She closed the door behind her, walking slowly over and sat between them. It was the way it always was, he thought, staring into the fire, Ghost curling in front of their feet. Rhaenys, Dany, and then him. He did not move when Dany dragged his hand to her stomach and Rhaenys’s hand as well.

They all said nothing. Until Dany finally spoke. “I’ve missed my moonblood. Three months now.” She did not look at him. Rhaenys whipped her head to stare at him and he felt his stomach bottom out at what that meant.

Oh gods.

“Are you certain?” Rhaenys whispered. Her dark brows arched. “It could be a mistake.”

Dany nodded, whispering. “I have been ill in the mornings as well. I know what it means.” She finally glanced up to him, her violet eyes shining, her lips flickering into an uncertain smile. She was nervous, her fingers sliding in his, keeping them still on her belly. He pressed lightly, a small gasp escaping him at the sudden hardness he felt there. He smiled, lifting his gaze to meet hers, how happy she was, even if he knew she worried. He had not thought of it…of a…a child. “Are you pleased?” she murmured.

“Beyond,” he found himself saying, embracing her and burying his face into her silver braids. He smiled against her neck, his hand falling to her side, to curl into the softness of her hip, securing her against him. He had not thought of a child, but of course…it was not as if they had been doing anything to prevent such an event.

They remained, until it was the always rational Rhaenys who broke their quiet, pleasing moment. She stood, her hands on her hips, walking over to gaze out to the sea, towards Essos. “You must leave. You need to be gone, before Aegon finds out, whether from a maid or spider. This child is a Targaryen heir, before Aegon has one himself. It is a threat.”

Gods, Jon thought. He had not realized…of course…they would need to leave. Soon. He pulled Dany against him, murmuring into the shell of her ear. “We will go North, as soon as possible. To be married in the godswood.”

“Your uncle,” she whispered, nose brushing his, eyes closing. “What will he say?”

“He will help us. We will leave from White Harbor for Essos.”

She nodded, gripping his hands tight, staring up at him, still smiling. “I love you Jon, more than anything, whatever happens. It’s us.”

He nodded. “All of us.”

Rhaenys came to them, reaching for their hands, pulling them against her in a tight hug, whispering. “All of us,” she murmured.

It was probably one of the worst days of his life. More painful than riding away from Kings Landing and all he had known as a boy. More painful in a way than when he learned of his father’s death.

He said goodbye to his sister, for how long, he didn’t know. “You will see me again, I swear it,” Rhaenys whispered to him, when she stood on the small beach in the grotto of Dragonstone, where he and Dany used to escape and play with no one knowing. She kissed his forehead, knocked her knuckles against his shoulder and ruffled his hair, laughing. “Baby brother.”

“Big sister,” he said.

They did not really say goodbye, he knew it, and Dany told him repeatedly, they would see her again, hopefully soon. “And maybe after our babe is born,” she said, as he rowed the boat away from the shore, as the black spires of Dragonstone began to blend in with the blackness of the sky, only the stars and the pale moonlight as their guides towards Claw Isle, where House Celtigar would provide them a ship, as Rhaenys had already written ahead to trusted members of the Celtigar household, who had been highly loyal to her father.

They arrived in Claw Isle as the sun was rising, his arms exhausted from rowing all evening long, thankful the wind had been in their favor. They boarded a ship, bound for White Harbor and Jon had the Maester send a raven to Winterfell, outlining in cryptic terms for his uncle what was happening. They rarely left their cabin, just long enough for him to speak occasionally with the captain. The explanation of having no Kingsguard present was that they still had not chosen any replacements for Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell, and Ser Gerold, and the remaining ones were needed with the new king.

In White Harbor they were immediately greeted by House Stark banners, his uncle and cousin awaiting them. “The King demands to know where you have both gone, he has sent ravens to every lord in the kingdom,” Ned said to them both. He glanced at Jon, quiet. “You have the will?”

It was never off his person, sewn into the lining of his surcoat. Dany was beginning to show her pregnancy, something that secretly pleased him, but they had to make haste, to leave Westeros as soon as possible.

The hearttree in the godswood was not the glorious one of Winterfell, the one he’d dreamed of marrying Dany under, but it would do. There was no one to hand off Dany, but she said she did not need to worry about that. “Rhaegar was my father as much as he was yours,” she said to him, when he fretted over the custom. She squeezed his hands, smiling, but still sad. “And without him to walk me to you, I would sooner walk myself than have anyone else take his place.”

They married, with a ribbon wrapped around their hands in the custom of the Seven, a demand from his cousin Sansa who wanted desperately to attend, but who could not, so she had sent ahead a white ribbon embroidered with wolves and dragons for them. When Ned announced that they were married, they kissed beneath the stars, the gods watching, and as much as they wanted, they could not celebrate, for they had to be on a ship the following morning, sailing for Braavos.

The morning they set to sail, his uncle brought them a knight, from Bear Island. “Ser Jorah will see to it you are kept safe, he is well-traveled in Essos,” Ned said. He sighed. “The King is most displeased, but I feel your sister is doing the best she can to keep him under control for now. You should write to him.”

“I already have,” he said, removing the letter he had written to his brother, passing it to Ned. He sighed. “It is all in there. Everything. How Dany and I fell in love, we want him to have his time as king, and do not want to provide any distraction to his reign. All that I hope he will see as good words and not treasonous ones.”

Ned embraced him, whispering. “You are so like your mother.”

He closed his eyes, returning the hug, and let go, taking Dany’s hand the two of them boarding the ship, not looking back. He asked Dany about why, why she had just boarded and immediately went down into their cabin, without gazing back at the land that had been the only home they’d known.

“Because Jon,” she whispered, kissing his knuckles and wrapping his hand around her waist. “If I look back, I am lost.”

He supposed that was a good a reason as any.

They docked in Braavos near a month later. Ser Jorah went to get them horses, and they wandered the cannals, Ghost following behind as their guard. Dany was swollen now with their child, one hand resting over her belly, the other clasped in his. They came to a seawall, looking to the west, towards the great Titan of Braavos, and the direction of their home. “We will find dragon eggs here, you know,” she said, teasing him slightly.

He remembered them fighting over it as children. He nuzzled her nose, smiling against her lips, whispering. “Yeah? And where might we find these dragon eggs?”

“Pentos.”

The certainty she said it had him pulling back slightly. “Oh?”

“Hmm, we will go to Pentos, because Magister Illyrio has found them.” Her eyes sparkled, as they used to do when they were little, running in the corridors of the Red Keep, avoiding Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan, or sneaking among the great skulls of their ancestral dragons in the dungeons. She gripped their hands over her belly, where their baby moved beneath his palms. Her words shook with her giddy excitement. “Dragon eggs Jon. Three real dragon eggs, turned to stone, from the Shadowlands beyond Assh’ai, but I will bring them back. Like the true dragons we are, we will bring the dragons back to this world.”

He kissed her, hands framing her face, smiling into her mouth. It seemed of late there was so little to smile about. The running away, the death of Rhaegar, and fear of being hunted by Aegon. Then there were things that reminded him that they would be alright, things would work out, because he loved her and she loved him, they were married, and they would have their babe in their arms soon.

He pulled her against him, her head resting on his shoulder, both of them staring out to the sun as it began to set over the Narrow Sea. He closed his eyes and inhaled her lemon-scented hair, the breeze blowing over them, no longer a Prince and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, but Jon and Dany. “We will have a house,” she murmured, still smiling. “With a lemon tree and a red door. I should like that very much.”

“And the dragons,” he whispered.

“Of course, and our dragons.”

Three dragons, he thought, his heart clenching as he rubbed the side of her belly. He sighed, thinking of Rhaenys, of the third dragon missing from their clutch. He missed her terribly. He hoped one day they would see her again. Dany lifted her fingers, stroking his cheek, turning his face down to hers, whispering. “We will see her soon Jon, I dreamed it, and my dreams come true. Like this did.”

All through his childhood, Dany was adamant they would marry. They would marry, have babies, and they would fly on dragons again. He squeezed her harder, smiling wide, kissing her brow. “Aye, your dreams do come true.”

“Fire and blood, Jon.”

He nodded idly. “Fire and blood, Dany.”

Chapter Text

There was a palpable fear among the people of King's Landing, she thought, surveying the tops of the buildings below from her solar, a glass of wine dangling in her fingertips, a stony expression on her face. She could feel it, emanating from the gutters like the smell of the shit and the smoke from the chimneys. She took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, wishing she were in Dorne with her uncle, cousins, and aunt.

Arianne was now the Lady Paramount of Dorne, as they liked to call her, but she was a Princess in her own right. She might have been the widow of Viserys Targaryen, but she held full control over the second largest kingdom in the realm and Rhaenys knew exactly where her aunt's loyalties lay and they were not with her recently departed nephew or the Tyrells, who were becoming a thorn in her side-- literally. She blew out a hard breath, shaking her head and pushing away from the window. She was about to pour herself another glass of wine when the door opened, barely a knock.

Her brother's former Hand, Lord Tyrion, stepped in. "Your Grace," he said. He took a deep breath. "Ah, the ship has arrived."

"I will be there shortly." She glanced at the Lord of Casterly Rock, scowling at him over the top of her cup. "You do not need to be there."

Tyrion hesitated. "Your Grace, I am the Hand..."

"You were the Hand of the King, there is no King at the moment." She smiled darkly over top of the cup. "Lady Margaery has not given birth to an heir, the last I heard, and that would ultimately mean the next heir is my brother, is he not?"

"Yes Your Grace, but there was clear instruction from the King that his...traitorous..."

"Traitor?" She snorted. That was rich, coming from the Lannisters, who waited until the very end of the war before they decided to side with the Baratheons, only to lose in the end. The only honorable one was Jaime. They were all traitors. "My brother and aunt moved to Essos. Last I heard that was not considered treason. They were tired of Kings Landing and wanted to start a life anew with their firstborn child."

“But King Aegon…”

“You are a terrible Lord Hand, for you did not get him to dictate a successor in the event his wife never gave birth,” Rhaenys drawled, arching a dark eyebrow in the direction of the youngest Lannister. He seemed older than Jaime, but she supposed having to clean up the shit her brother hand left in his wake would make anyone older. She was just glad Aegon at least listened to her a little bit and she’d been able to temper some of his more… Aerys impulses, she supposed.

Tyrion sighed hard. “Without an heir, the throne falls to the next male in succession. Your brother.” He looked up, frowning briefly. “We have reached out to the Sealord of Braavos, I believe that was where he was last spotted.”

“No need.”

Tyrion spun, surprised at the silence with which her brother had walked up upon him. She smirked; he had not spent any time in the Red Keep with her littlest brother; Jon was always very good at playing hide and find, a game that he routinely won because not only could he find you without you knowing, he could stay hidden for hours. She finished off her wine, waving at the former Hand. “You are dismissed, Lord Tyrion.”

He did not move, too stunned at the sight of her brother after five years to do anything. The five years had been good to him. She had only seen him twice in the five years and each time he had changed for the better. If anything he stood taller, no longer hiding behind his dark curls, which were pulled from his face in a knot at the base of his neck. He wore black leather and velvet, a silver chain with a three-headed dragon holding a red sash to his shoulder, which fell to the floor.

All he needed was the crown, she thought, smiling wide at him. She glanced at his side, his wife appearing, a serene smile on her face. “Hello Lord Tyrion,” she cooed, every bit the Targaryen dragon in her deep crimson dress and black leather riding pants and boots. She wore the same chain as Jon, with a black sash that fell to the floor. Her silver hair was bound in braids, almost like a coiled crown. She looped her arm through Jon’s, her fingers lightly resting on his hand.

Jon smirked at the Lannister. “I believe my sister dismissed you.”

For some reason he glanced at her and she shrugged, waving to the door. “Well go on, you are no longer needed Lord Tyrion.” She waited for him to leave, stunned, before the door closed behind him. She exhaled hard, rushing towards her brother and aunt, almost leaping into their arms.

All three of them hugged, bound tightly together. She took a deep breath, inhaling her aunt’s lemon smell, her hair shiny with lavender oils. She turned to her brother, chuckling as she thought he still smelled a little bit like his wolf, as he always had. She pulled back from them both, so happy to see them. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, which she quickly wiped away. “I am so glad to see you both, I did not know you would be arriving today.”

“The ship made faster time than we expected,” Dany whispered. She had an odd calm about her, not her usual frenetic energy. She folded her hands before her, gaze still and words cool. “I presume you have done what I requested with my nephew’s body?”

Rhaenys nodded. She had been as surprised as anyone when she heard about the death of her brother. She wondered if it had been something of a broken heart, when she had viewed his body. Aegon was never quite right after the shipwreck, he had been broken of body and spirit. He had no one. Rhaegar and Viserys both dead, his favorite Kingsguard all gone as well. He had only her and he never really liked her; he resented that she had memories of their mother while he had nothing. He hated Jon, he blamed Jon for their mother’s death, he’d told her once.

He had gone to Summerhall, where their father used to sit and think, where tragedy had destroyed their family and almost wiped out their entire line. Jaime had gone with him and for some reason he had fallen ill there. Jaime said he was fine, but then complained of head pains and by the time they got him to the Maester in Kings Landing, he had fallen into a sleep he would never wake from.

When she informed Dany, sending the letter to Essos, she had received back instructions not to bury the bones in the crypts, but to prepare them on a pyre, to leave them beneath the Targaryen standard. She did as her aunt bid, knowing that many were curious and wondering. The bones lay in the throne room, before the great Iron Throne.

“We will do it tonight then,” Dany announced. She turned, glancing at her husband and said nothing, but Rhaenys noticed the look that passed between them.

They were all three together, three little dragons, her father used to tease. Except there was the three of them and then there was Dany and Jon. As much as she bonded with the two of them, they had a bond that was something else entirely. He nodded briefly and she left, closing the door behind her.

Rhaenys frowned. “What was that about?”

“You will see.” He walked towards her, embracing her once more again. He smiled, pulling back slightly. “I missed you. So did Rhaena.”

The mention of her sweet niece had her eyes widening in excitement. “Where is she?”

He rolled his eyes but smiled; a look she loved so much on his too-serious face. The mention of his daughter had him almost giddy, his dark gray eyes lighting, the corners crinkling. “She is around somewhere, I believe Ser Barristan is taking her around, showing her all the places where we hid as children.”

They lost Ser Barristan to the King and Queen Across the Sea, as the smallfolk called them, a couple years after they left. Aegon had not wanted him to be Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, wanted to place Loras Tyrell in the position and relieved him of his duties. He had decided to go serve the Targaryens who he had always served instead. She could not wait to see him, it had been too long. “Last I saw her, she was barely walking and talking,” she murmured.

“Aye, well now she is running and will not close her mouth,” he laughed. He reached into the folds of his doublet, removing something.

She knew what it was.

They unfolded the paper, careful of its age, the brittleness of it, and stared at the still dark words of her father. She traced his signature, eyes closing, and for a brief moment, it felt as though he were there with them. Singing to them, allowing them to play at his feet in his solar. Dany had always taken up a lot of his attention. She remembered when she was little, sitting on his knee, playing with his silver hair, while Rhaegar told her she had to be the biggest sister of them all, taking care of all of them.

It seemed she had only succeeded in taking care of Jon and Dany, not Aegon, she thought sadly. She glanced at her brother, whispering. “What will you do with this?”

“When Tyrion makes a fuss, when he tries to stir the Tyrells up, in an attempt to take back his power, to change the order of succession, I will reveal it, but until then…” He folded it back up, tucking it safely in his pocket. He patted it, smiling briefly. “Until then, it remains with me.”

Rhaenys nodded, eyes focused on his, whispering. “The people want you Jon. They speak of you and Dany. They call you the King and Queen Beyond the Sea for a reason.”

“I know.”

“Are you ready?” He nodded, allowing her to take his hands, squeezing hard. He bowed his head and she kissed his forehead, whispering against it. “Because even if you do not think you are, you must be. For the realm.” It was no longer what he wanted, it was what he was destined, she thought, taking his hand.

They left the tower, descending the stairs and corridors, followed by Jaime and some of the other newer Kingsguard. She reached the yard outside of Maegor’s Holdfast, grinning at the small child running about with Barristan. “Rhaena!”

The little girl jumped, spinning and staring at her for a moment before she giggled, taking off. “Auntie Rhaenys!”

Rhaenys spun in a circle, her black skirts billowing out, embracing her small niece in her arms. She supposed that when it came to Targaryens, the easiest way to describe their relationships with each other was simply family. The were all the blood of each other and Rhaena was a Targaryen through and through, the only indication she was not was her long black curls, identifical to her father's. Perhaps if you studied her small face just long enough you might notice the same glint to her eyes as Jon or the curve of her lip in her small smile, but otherwise she was entirely Daenerys Targaryen.

She pursed her lips, sad, her tiny hand going to Rhaenys's face. "Are you sad your brother is gone, Auntie?"

"I am," she admitted. She kissed her niece's shining curls. "I am sad, but I think he is happier now." Wherever Aegon's spirit had departed, she hoped it was a place where he felt accepted and was free of the pain she knew had plagued him-- emotionally and physically-- since the wreck.

They all gathered up onto several horses, with Jaime, Barristan, and a knight she knew was Jorah Mormont and to her surprise, Arya Stark, who looked as if she might cut the first person who dared look at Rhaena the wrong way into a million tiny pieces. She smiled, holding her niece in her lap in front of the saddle, riding off, allowing Dany to follow with Jorah, who stayed behind to wait for her.

"Where are we going?" Barristan demanded of Jon, as they trotted the horses out of the Holdfast's main yard.

"Dragonpit," Jon answered.

They brought the horses around beyond the Red Keep, to the ruins of the Dragonpit, where a circle of torches stood and another guard watching over her brother's bones, beneath the Targaryen standard. It was her cousins, the Sand Snakes. She nodded to Nym, who broke away from Obara and Tyene. "Thank you for watching over him for us," she said.

"Of course, he was our blood as well," Nym said, cocking her head, curious as Jon led Rhaena towards the dais. She frowned. "Is there a reason why he is on a pyre?"

"You will see."

There was movement at the Dragonpit's entrance again and they all stepped aside as Dany entered, her horse pulling a cart with two long boxes, both draped in dusty Targaryen banners. "Your Grace," Barristan exclaimed. He stared as she dismounted and guided Jorah to assist. "Are those..."

"Yes," she said.

Rhaenys approached, staring at the box that contained her father's bones. She glanced at Jon and they both nodded at the same time, each one taking a handle on the smooth ossuary. They carried it to the pyre, resting it on the dais beside those of Aegon. She stepped away as Dany approached. She glanced at her aunt, who had changed into a black flowing dress, far looser and filmier than the one she had been wearing.

She stood next to Jon, both of them holding Rhaena's hands, the little girl watching curiously as her mother moved along the pyre, organizing the bones as she wanted them. It was clear the guards had their own questions, as did the Sand Snakes, and she wanted to know what Dany was doing too, but she also knew that there was no point in asking, for she was going to ignore their queries.

Jon watched as Dany opened up a chest she removed from the back of the cart, carrying it over and opening it, reverently removing velvet drapings from inside. She stared, eyes wide, watching as her aunt removed the only things she considered as valuable as the life of her daughter.

Three dragon eggs.

"What," she murmured. Her brother stilled her question, his hand lightly touching hers. She closed her mouth. Dany hd always been the more fantastical of them. The more Targaryen. She had spoken of dragon eggs and bringing forth dragons since she was a baby. She watched, fascinated, as she placed one egg beside each side of bones. Then she moved backwards, taking a torch offered by Jon.

He reached to his belt, removing a dagger. Rhaenys frowned; it was dragonglass. He passed it to Dany, who took it without a word and returned to the pyre. Dany held the knife in the same hand as the torch and reached it to her other palm, announcing. "I am the blood of the dragon!" She sliced the palm of her hand and Rhaena exclaimed in surprise, Jon's hands keeping her from running forth. She turned, looking at them all, scowling. "Targaryens burn in death. Tonight my brothers and my nephew will finally be put to rest."

She turned, her bloody hand leaving smears on the eggs as she tapped them, before she swung the torch forward, lighting around the three Targaryens. Everything went up in a loud 'whoosh.' The fire burned almost white, smoke curling up and exploding forth from the heat of the funeral pyre.

No one said anything, even Rhaena remained silent, her violet eyes shining and staring at the flames, small mouth open in surprise, a little smile on her lips. "Dragons," she murmured.

Yes, Rhaenys thought, nodding in realization. "Dragons," she echoed.

Dany walked around to the front of the pyre and then stepped forth, straight into the flames.

"Muna!" Rhaena exclaimed.

"Shh, it's alright," Jon comforted, lifting Rhaena into his arms, pointing at Dany's figure, a black shadow in the massive inferno. he smiled, kissing his daughter's face. "See? Remember? Muna is the blood of the dragon, just like you. The unburnt."

It didn't seem to pacify Jorah or Barristan, who were exclaiming for her, while Jaime just stared, stunned at what as transpiring. Arya Stark seemed to be in agreement with him, mouth open, gaping at the scene before them. It was strange, Rhaenys would admit, but she also did not think it was entirely odd. Dany had always been Unburnt, had always been able to touch fire without a problem, and Targaryens burning...it had not been done in so long. It was the best thing for their spirits.

The flames hissed and crackled, until another sound joined them.

Screeches.

"What..." Barristan exclaimed.

Dany emerged from the fire, her arms cradling something. It took Rhaenys a minute, her eyes unsure at what she was seeing. It appeared as though there was not only something in Dany’s arms, but a shadow emerging over her shoulder…and another around her ankle. It was difficult for her mind’s eye to rationalize, to understand exactly what it was seeing. Not only had she walked into an inferno, she had emerged, with…with…Rhaenys could not even bring her mind to understand.

But the littlest dragon among them did.

"Zaldrīzoti,” Rhaena breathed.

Dragons.

Somewhere she heard Jaime curse for the Seven, not a pious man he was, but of course seeing baby dragons clinging to Daenerys Targaryen after she had just walked into a funeral pyre would cause someone at least try to reach out to some sort of deity, Rhaenys thought, staring in awe at the beautiful sight in front of her. She saw Jon reach around and wrap a cloak over Dany’s shoulders, his hands shaking. Even if he seemed to know what to expect, the sight itself was startling.

Dragons, she thought again, tears flooding her vision. She stared, the three dragons chirping in their mother’s arms, Dany’s silver hair pouring over her shoulder and her violet eyes burning bright in the dying fire of the pyre.

“You did it,” Jon whispered.

Dany smiled, lovingly, at the small beings in her arms. “Dragons,” she murmured.

Rhaenys could not stop smiling, her blood coursing through her, the understanding of what had occurred finally making itself known. Dragons had returned. She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

The Targaryens would be dragonriders once more.

Once when they were little, Dany remembered running through the passages of the Red Keep—they had seemed so big to her then. Sneaking in on Rhaegar while he was working or eavesdropping on the Small Council. Watching the lords and ladies in their finest march in and bow before their king. They would go Rhaenys first, then her, and then Jon. He was always following last, always afraid they would get in trouble.

And now they were walking them, with everyone bowing to them.

Queen Daenerys and King Jon of House Targaryen.

They had just returned from Dragonstone, where they spent the majority of their time. She had found that her children preferred the air there, the environment, and they had room to grow and experience life as if they were normal children and not future kings and queens. She also knew the dragons liked it more, her three beautiful dragons, who were now full-grown, who could destroy cities and strike fear into the hearts of anyone who came upon them. They were glorious, the rebirth of the Targaryen dynasty.

She had named them for her brothers, Rhaegal and Viserion. Rhaegal was Jon’s mount; they had bonded instantly from the moment he had offered the jade-scaled creature his first piece of meat. Rhaenys rode Viserion, the gentlest of the three beasts most suited for the eldest Targaryen, who might be terrifying to behold but was a gentle soul.

And she rode Aegorax.

She named him for the creator of dragons. One of the Fourteen Flames of Old Valyria, the one for whom Aegon the Conqueror was named. The god of dragons, the creator of the dragons. Her Aegorax was Balerion reborn, he was the most fearsome and vicious, and he only answered to her. The other two listened to him when he snarled and snapped at them and when she commanded, he allow someone else to sit upon him—with her of course—he begrudgingly allowed it, but she knew he wanted nothing more than to buck them off.

They strode into the hall, shedding their riding leathers, casually calling after their daughter and son, both of whom would get into a fit of trouble if left to their own devices, although she supposed that was always going to happen, being that Rhaena and her younger brother Aemon were Targaryens through and through.

She looped her arm through Jon’s, following the children towards their private chambers. “Aemon really needs to stop fantasizing about joining the Dothraki one day,” she commented, watching as her three-year old pretended he was riding a horse, making neighing sounds and chasing after his sister, who was scowling angrily at him, trying to get away.

He kissed her, chuckling. “And when you were his age, you were insistent that you would ride a dragon one day.” He glanced out one of the walkway’s open arched windows, looking out at Blackwater Bay, where Aegorax dove for fish with Rhaegal. He wrinkled his nose, kissing her lightly. “Allow him his fantasies, perhaps it will come true.”

“I suppose.” She leaned against him, emerging into their private solar. She called out, seeing a flash of her daughter’s black hair, followed immediately by a shock of silver. “Darlings! Do return in time for supper and stay away from the dungeons!” She rolled her eyes, realizing she made a mistake by forbidding them to see something.

Her husband entered their bed chamber, removing his outer coat. “I believe they will go there first now. Remember how Rhaegar never wanted us to play in the skulls? He worried we would fall off of Balerion’s and crack our own skull.” He chuckled, but she could see the sadness that remained in his eyes. There was still an ever present melancholy over the death of her brother and his father, if only because he should have lived far longer than he did. He should have been the longest ruling Targaryen king, not confined to a sudden death in a shipwreck.

Jon removed his sword, carefully resting it on the table in their bedroom, his hand sweeping over the scabbard, etched in Valyrian, with swirling dragons. She allowed him a moment; they had thought Dark Sister lost forever, as they had Dawn, but like Ser Arthur’s sword had, Dark Sister eventually revealed itself. Perhaps by magic, where she had assumed it would have sunk to the bottom of the bay, it appeared on the shores of Dragonstone, not long after Aegon’s death.

And as if by further magic, she dreamed of Blackfyre, of her ancestor’s greatsword, lost for centuries, and she had directed the dragons to find it, to fly them to the Doom, against the wishes of everyone, and there it was, in a high tower, perhaps where her ancestor’s had once lived, and she had taken it and brought it back. She had no use for a sword, she had her dragons. She commanded fire; her husband could command steel.

Jon now wielded Blackfyre and Rhaenys owned Dark Sister. Her aunt was their Hand, the only one they trusted to assist them in their rule. It was as if Aegon and his sisters had returned, for Rhaenys was almost a second queen, although she had no true interest in the title itself. She split her time between Kings Landing and Dorne, as they did with Dragonstone and the capital.

She lightly touched Blackfyre, before she turned away, going to stand and peer out at their kingdom. She turned back to Jon, rather briefly, as he approached, his arms wrapping around her, resting atop the swell of her belly. “Rhaenys will be so pleased,” he murmured, kissing her cheek. “She wishes for another baby to dote upon.”

“Hmm, I believe the keep does as well.” She had dreamed of this, as a girl. Dreamed of marrying him, of flying dragons, and her dreams always came true.

There was a soft knock at the door, without waiting for them to answer, it pushed open and Rhaenys stepped in, still wearing her riding leathers, her whip on one hip and Dark Sister on the other. Her cheeks were flushed red from riding and she opened her mouth to greet them before she took sight of Dany’s belly, her eyes widening and a squeal escaping her lips. “Oh! Another babe! You sneak, you did not tell me!”

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” she laughed, hugging her tightly. She let go, to allow Rhaenys and Jon to embrace. She watched the siblings, smiling, and was so glad that they had each other. Her hand dropped to her belly. That we all have each other.

For some reason she wanted to wander, so she left the two siblings to catch up. She departed the bedchamber and found the old stretch of wall just beyond the private study, where she used to watch Rhaegar write. She smiled, glancing over her shoulder at the same desk, before she slipped around the edge of the wall, behind the tapestry and through the break in the stone, into one of the many passageways Maegor had designed.

She slipped around corners and into alcoves, smiling when she came upon a mark she had made as a child or pausing to study the Kingsguard or the household staff through the cracks and the grates. She chuckled at the sight of Jaime Lannister chasing after Aemon, who had apparently stolen his helmet and was running off with it on his head, shouting in Valyrian about how he couldn’t catch him, he was a stupid knight.

At some point she heard footsteps, lightly behind her, and turned, in the passageway that they had hidden in as children, seeing Rhaenys approach. She lifted her finger to her lips, pointing to the grate, into the Throne Room, and the other woman came to stand beside her, peering out.

In the throne room she could see her daughter, strong and feisty Rhaena, climbing up the steps leading to the Iron Throne. Her daughter scrambled atop it, leaning against the armrest and draping her feet over the other side, holding a stick as though it were a scepter and a crown of dried blue winter roses, likely from her nursery. “Who comes forth to greet me?” she demanded.

“Me!” Aemon exclaimed, still wearing Jaime’s helmet. He giggled, knocking it off to the floor with a clatter, before spinning in circles with his arms out. “I’mma dragon! Rawr!”

“No! Dragons do not fly indoors!”

“I do!”

It should not have startled her, he was always silent, when Jon appeared at her side. He looked into the grate, smiling at the children. Rhaena pointed her stick at her little brother, scowling angrily. “I am Queen Rhaena of House Targaryen! You are my knight, you are Aemon the Dragonknight, just like the other one.”

“I am Aemon the Wolfknight!”

“Oh all right, I guess.” She moved to stand on the seat of the Iron Throne, her hands thrown up to the sky. “We will have a sister! I demand so and I am queen! We will be three dragons!”

“Three?”

“Yes! One, two, three! Just like Aegorax, Rhaegal and Viserion!” She giggled, sliding down to sit on the throne again, making room for her little brother, who she had to help, grabbing him by his breeches and hauling him up so he could sit beside her, both of them swinging their legs and gazing out at the large, empty throne room. She smiled, tears of joy in her eyes at the sight of her children. Soon, another would join them, and they would always have each other.

Just like us.

As if reading her mind, her daughter patted Aemon’s head. “You are like Kepa,” she said, referring to Jon by the Valyrian word for ‘father.’ She smiled, her hand going to her chest. “I am Rhaenys. I am the oldest and the new baby will be like Muna. She will be the youngest.”

“Dragons,” Aemon chirped. He giggled, using the stick to point to the sigil burned into the stone at the foot of the throne. The three-headed dragon of the Targaryens.

Rhaena nodded wisely. “Aye,” she said, a habit she had picked up from her father, smiling wide. “Like Rhaenys, Jon, and Daenerys. Three dragons we will be!”

That was a way of putting it, she thought, gazing to Rhaenys and then to Jon, who both hadn’t taken their eyes off the little ones playing in the throne room. She smiled, her hand touching her stomach, feeling the baby move inside of her. She would name her new daughter after Jon’s mother, as Rhaena was named for Rhaegar and for Rhaenys. Aemon for their beloved uncle. This new child would be Laena, for Lyanna, she decided, smiling to herself.

They watched the children for how long, she couldn’t say, until Rhaenys turned and led them out, followed by her and then Jon tagging along last. As it had always been.

And as she suspected it would always be, smiling to herself.