A/N: Sorry for super late post. I've been busy with the usual stuff(i.e. exams, papers, work). Planned to post this last month but delayed because I wasn't quite happy with it. Posting for a friend who won't stop bugging me about it and my current 'un-productive-ness'(not a word). She ships Aegon/Arya so hard like you won't believe it. I don't. Much. Thus, the ending...I'm itching to stretch this a bit more but I'm keeping this as it is for now.
A sequel(?maybe?) to Keeping Warm. I couldn't help myself so I added a little smut scene. XP
I.
A name for one who haunted him in his sleep. He wanted it, he wanted her. But he knew a dragon may be large and breathed fire, its wings could still be torn and broken and a direwolf's teeth were quite sharp.
II.
He found himself making a mad dash towards her, ignoring the uproar around him as his kingsguard scrambled to reach him. Looks of surprise and curiosity followed him as he pushed his way through the camp. Aegon was sure it had been her-sure it was her eyes, her mouth quirked in that mocking smile. Courtesy be damned. It was surely her he saw ducking behind the tent.
One moment he was talking pleasantries with Lady Stark and Daenerys, the next he was making a fool of himself among the King in the North's men. He sucked in the icy air greedily, his feet finally stopping as his guard took hold of him but his eyes were staring at the spot he was so certain she had just been standing on.
Gods be good. No longer did she haunt only his dreams, now she was plaguing his mind during the day.
"Your Grace! Is something wrong? Please, your safety is-"
"I'm quite alright, Ser Barristan. I just-I just thought I saw someone..."
Worry creased the ancient knight's face. He felt a pang of guilt. It really wouldn't do to worry the old man. Aegon could hear a commotion from behind as his aunt and Lady Stark made their way to him with their own guard, a look of concern on Danaerys' face.
"What was it? What happened?" asked his aunt.
"Nothing. I-forgive me, I believe I saw a-an old friend."
"I did not know you knew anyone from the north, your grace."
Aegon turned to the other woman whose auburn hair shone like burnished copper with striking blue eyes set in a lovely exquisite face. She was tall and slender and anyone with sense could feel she had a captivating aura around her.
Aegon dared to think the lady was more beautiful than the silver-haired queen by her side though she must be mad not to wear her hood while the cold air whipped at their faces. Besides, a Stark woman was out of the question for him anyway. Connington never ceased to remind him.
"Just an acquaintance. Let us return, shall we? I believe the long ride north is taking its toll."
"Of course, your grace. A good rest and a warm meal is in order."
If Lady Stark doubted him, he did not hear it in her tone. Aegon ignored the strange looks their party received as they returned to the southern end of the camp, nodding to the blur of faces. They passed an assortment of wildlings, a dozen or so men dressed in all black, some soldiers bearing the direwolf sigil, and a few giants that towered over the others here and there. One of the lords from the south had thrown a fit about having the monsters tied towards the end of the camp but the King of the North would have none of it.
Daenerys touched his arm lightly, giving him an understanding glance. She knew how it felt to see things. She had told him herself a few moons ago before they rode north. He gave her a reassuring smile, finding amusement in how ridiculous she looked all bundled up in whatever furs Jorah got his hands on.
Hallucinations or not, the face he had glimpsed through the crowd had to be real. If it wasn't, then the taint was beginning to show on him too.
III.
He could feel eyes upon him and their party the whole time. The camp was massive and their party had only just settled in at the southernmost part. They continued to walk, keeping the sight of the Wall leagues away to their back then skirting westward.
Snow and gravel crunched underfoot as they trudged back onto the path that led to their tent. A few yards before reaching the large construction of canvas, Tyrion trundled out to meet them, accompanied by the Night Watch's Lord Commander.
"I must say, you took your good time getting here. I've near finished the gods awful piss the northfolk call wine while waiting for you lot."
"I fancied seeing the northmen's camp for myself."
Aegon gave the only Lannister of their court a wry smile as they all headed towards the tent that shielded them from most of winter's barrage.
"Well, you should do that when you're riding atop Rhaegal. The smiths just finished my latest design for your saddle and I think it would be far more comfortable than the last. The Starks have quite a blacksmith in their service. A very-interesting bastard, to be sure, but I quite like him. Old Griff isn't as fond though."
His heart calmed as he continued talking to the small man before turning to regard the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch with a studious gaze.
"Lord Snow."
"Your grace."
The other man stood stiffly by as Aegon and Tyrion passed him. Aegon did not miss the way the other's wary eyes followed them, hand resting subtly on the strangely designed hilt of a sword, a longsword by the looks of it. He was loath to show the other man his back, especially since Jorah was looming quite close behind. Daenerys' Bear was a bit testy when it came to his family's sword.
A rustle of cloth and a sound of alarm from one of his guards were heard as two startlingly large masses of fur padded out the tent, radiating warmth, one pure white, the other a mix of greys and brown.
Aegon had yet to be used to the presence of the direwolves but he supposed it was only fair for the northmen to keep their 'pets' close after he had insisted Drogon and Rhaegal be kept no more than a dozen yards away while Viserion remained at King's Landing; the sounds of Drogon's restlessness reaching them.
The tent was fairly large, accommodating them all as they seated themselves around the table situated at the inner part of the tent where the crippled boy-king sat waiting. The King of the North who refused to kneel (though he liked to dryly joke he physically couldn't).
Aegon and Daenerys took seats opposite the boy-king while the rest of their company found their own places on either side of the scarred table.
"And so the council of war convenes."
Tyrion's drawl made their third meeting sound almost trivial when it was anything but. A few clearing of throats and a couple of restless shifting in seats assured Aegon that this was going to be anything but comfortable. Tyrion liked to joke that history in the making took loads of shit and blood, the latter assuredly to come and the former was yet to be seen.
They had agreed to give aid to the north and the Night's Watch for the war against the Others and the wights seeing as the realm was on the brink of doom from both the long winter and the creatures that crawled south with it. Aegon wasn't about to let years of war and bloodshed go to waste by letting the infernal creatures take their kingdom.
The cripple boy-king cleared his throat, calling everyone's attention to him. "I would like to thank you again for listening to our plea. I believe your dragons will change the tide of things." addressing Aegon and Daenerys with a nod.
Eyes that were unnervingly blood red around the edges watched them intently. Aegon resisted the urge to shudder.
"How could we not, with your latest message no one could have possibly ignored." Aegon replied.
Once the Targaryens had managed to wrestle the conquered kingdoms under their reign, they had received an endless stream of ravens from the Wall, all begging any of the remaining kings for reinforcements. The King in the North, who was told to have strange magics, had answered the call right before Stannis had fallen with his red queen vanished, naming a Baratheon bastard heir.
Edric Baratheon had yielded almost immediately to the Iron Throne despite Stannis' wish for the legitimized bastard to carry on the claim.
"Yes, a caged wight was obviously the only way to get our attention, Stark."
Daenerys was still a bit sour at the 'gift' the boy-king had sent for their coronation. The thing had taken down three guards before Tyrion had the abomination set on fire while the envoys just watched.
"Call me Bran if it pleases you, Danaerys Stormborn and Aegon, sixth of his name."
Something akin to amusement twinkled in the other king's eyes before closing them as if drifting off to sleep. It was only then with the red eyes shut did Aegon notice how young the boy was. Barely half his own age, Stark gave off the feeling of a wizened old man.
"Arya should be here soon..." muttered Bran.
Aegon barely caught the words but he noticed the Night Watch's Lord Commander stiffen significantly in his seat, if it was even possible. Aegon did not miss the way the other tried to cover up his reaction.
Arya, the other Stark sibling he had heard of but had yet to meet. The men said she was as brazen as the youngest boy, Rickon, but as strangely mysterious as her king-brother. The reaction of her half-sibling was quite intriguing.
Connington, as the king's Hand had met her a few days ago, arriving with a larger party to prepare for their arrival, and had warned Aegon to stay away. His foster father's strange sudden bout of caution had confirmed the rumors he had heard. Some of the older men who had once known his father kept remarking about the lady's likeness to another long gone.
"Moving on..."
The table came alive as discussions, updates, and strategies made their way across the table.
IV.
As much as he should have been paying attention to the conversations on the combined army's positions, Aegon found himself staring blankly at the man called Snow. He had heard the whispers of course, of the man's supposed resurrection by fire, the possibility of the other having Targaryen blood, but it was not those things that caught Aegon's attention.
It was the man's look. The hard grey eyes, the sharp long face, the dark hair-the other's appearance made something like recognition creep inside Aegon. In response, the other returned his gaze steadily. As much as turning away irked Aegon, it would not do to make enemies out of allies.
"...but supplies have become sparingly low lately. The wildlings have taken to-"
A loud roar from the outside reverberated around, cutting off one of the north's generals. Daenerys was on her feet before anybody else could react, tearing out of the tent with everyone following. Men were shouting in alarm, scattered around the frozen field where the dragons were being kept.
Drogon was standing on his hindlegs, bellowing with mighty roars at a hooded figure before him, Rhaegal behind him, hissing. The dragons were going berserk and the din the soldiers were making was not helping. Aegon glanced behind him to see a frantic Daenerys being held back by her guard while Snow struggled to be free of the hold of a large man who was carrying the crippled boy-king on his back.
The black behemoth looked ready to swipe at the mad man before a direwolf, larger than any Aegon had yet seen, bounded forward, coming between Drogon and the hooded figure. To his bewilderment, the two dragons backed off, rumbling out low growls with barely a spark of fire at the offenders.
Aegon watched in awe as the person approached their party calmly, the direwolf guarding his rear. He could hear the Lady Sansa giving out a sigh of relief while her king-brother's laughter sounded out like a chime.
Daenerys and the rest of their party looked scandalized. Jon Snow rushed past him in a swirl of black furs, reaching the figure Aegon guessed to be one of the Stark siblings. The one who was said to ride out on her wolf leading a pack of a hundred others.
"I told you I was supposed to try first." The boy-king-Bran called out with a smile.
"I couldn't resist. Besides, they're quite tough to slip into."
Snow looked a bit shaken but his reaction could not compare to Aegon's as the girl's face came into view.
She glanced at his direction for only a moment but he knew immediately it was her. Sure it was her. He felt numb as he watched her smile wolfishly at his aunt who looked equally as shocked only at the fact that the other lady had not been killed.
His ears buzzed, muting out the sound of their talk as the one called Arya Stark was introduced to their party. Aegon felt himself only nod in acknowledgement, his eyes focused only on her, barely aware of Tyrion and Selmy watching him.
V.
He knew he was staring again. It was hard not to. Hard to stop. Hard to keep himself in check, resisting the urge to approach her, reach out and touch her. To make sure she was as soft as she looked in the arms of her older brother. To make sure he was not lost in another of his dreams because everything was a whirl of blurry shapes and colors, except her.
VI.
Those ancient enough to understand were on guard. Always on guard whenever she was around. Watching him watching her. Connington had warned them all beforehand.
VII.
Laughing breathily, she curtsied. If a curtsey could ever look mocking, it was hers.
"Forgive me, my lords, my ladies. I did not mean to scare them. I have just never seen them up close before."
He felt a small spike of irritation at the implication that the dragons had been scared but everything seemed to fall away as he watched her share another secret smile with her king-brother, Snow pressing close behind, looming and protective, while Danaerys interrogated her on what she had just done.
VIII.
Look here. Look at me.
She snorted, rubbing her neck in annoyance. He was staring again.
It was as if she could hear his thoughts from across the snow covered grounds. Bloody fool was being so obvious. Though the one night they had shared had been-amazing to say the least, he could have at least pretended like nothing was off in front of the others.
She could disappear whenever she wanted but she thought that way a tad bit cowardly for her liking. Let him look all he wants, she sniffed.
The southrons weren't even trying to hide how much they would prefer handling Nymeria than having her anywhere near their precious king. Even Jon had gotten into the habit of blocking her from the dragon king's sight whenever he was present during the other man's display of-curiosity. For seven's sake, it's not like she's some helpless maid. Jon of all people should know.
Not that anyone could stop her from reaching the king if she wanted to which made her a bit guilty since Jon, and even Gendry sometimes, never failed in giving her looks that clearly warned to stay away from the one with unwavering violet eyes.
With a grin, she slipped behind another tent, effectively leaving the Targaryen king casting about wildly. Taking note of how long she had left before nightfall, she sent a quiet apology to Jon, knowing he wouldn't be quite approving of how she planned on letting the young king down gently. Sansa would know the proper words but Arya, Arya had always been one of action.
IX.
"Aegon. Faster."
Arya's moans of pleasure filled his head as he snapped his hips forward, pulling the slick body against his harder. He was about to spill his seed when another cry of pain reached his ears.
He spilled nonetheless, pushing himself away from the dark-haired whore. He did not bother watching the camp-follower dress as she tried not to wince in pain. The way she scuttled out of his tent left a bad taste in his mouth. Another weak girl. Maar had told him whores of the north were hardier than their southron counterparts. He would have to correct that notion.
Aegon knew he had been cruel, was being cruel. He reached for a skin of wine from one of his chests, imagining the Hand's disapproving look. Rumors of his violence in bed had already spread and almost everyone knew whose name he whispered when he had the camp-followers on his sheets. Rarely seeing her was not helping but finally knowing her name had doomed him to meetings being glared at by the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and endless jibes from Tyrion.
It wasn't his fault. She had ruined him. Before, he could easily be as gentle to any whore as if they were maids but lately, all his mind could think of was her and his body reacted accordingly.
As their camp spread out along the border of the New Gift's frozen lands, Aegon found himself searching out Tyrion more often than what his foster father would've liked for a skin of bitter strongwine. The notorious Imp always seemed to have a barrel lying around in his tent. Tyrion was the only one who seemed amused at his obvious attraction. Snow never let slip a chance to shoot him venomous looks and Connington never failed to remind him of his father's folly.
It wasn't his fault.
X.
"Fucking random whores isn't what a king should be doing, you know. And staring, I should add, is quite rude if the Imp hasn't told you yet."
His heart leapt to his throat. Aegon stilled, his musings forgotten as he turned as slowly as his fear of her leaving allowed. It was her. She was in his tent and she wasn't another hallucination. At least he didn't think she was.
Aegon forced himself not to get up to meet her. He watched from the bed as she approached, silent as ever. Not hearing any footfall was not exactly easing his belief that she wasn't real.
AryaAryaAryaArya
XI.
"You killed Varys."
"I did."
"We fucked."
"We did."
He hated her matter-of-fact tone.
"...and I'm not supposed to stare?"
"You're not."
She smirked at him. Stretching out his hand was all it took to assure him she was real but he kept his hands to his sides, fearing she would vanish at any moment.
"A princess can't tell a king what to do. Or not do for that matter."
"I'm not a princess."
This time, he was the one smiling knowingly at her. It was quite known she didn't like being referred to by her official title. Yes, she was no princess. Not some dainty lady imbued with courtly manners but annoying her was a better way of getting her attention, of getting her to stay.
"A not-princess also cannot tell me what I cannot do. I like fucking dark-haired whores."
"They say you're promised to a princess of Dorne. I'm sure she wouldn't like you fucking anybody from the north, or anybody who would turn your head from the arrangement for that matter."
She allowed him to pull her down beside him. He smiled at the feel of her arm. She was solid. She was real. Skin so deceptively soft covering an arm he knew could snap his neck at any moment. The Starks found it needless to hide the fact that one of their very own was quite capable.
"The princess my cock wants isn't quite a princess. Neither is she from Dorne."
He could feel himself harden in anticipation. For all the cold the winter boasted, his sheets were becoming uncomfortably hot.
"I'm sure the one you want would appreciate it if you stopped trying to sneak into her tent with breath that stinks of wine, oh, and starting a war of course."
He smiled guiltily before slipping his hand underneath her furs, striving to get through the layers of clothing. The first time he had been caught stumbling like a fool through the camp to her tent, Snow had almost brained him. Tyrion had him banned from any more wine since then, saying something about northern brews being too intoxicating (though he was to be credited for whatever wine remained hidden in Aegon's many chests).
"What else do you think this not-quite-a-princess would want me to do."
He climbed over her naked, the rough cloth of her breeches brushing the inside of his thighs. He suppressed a moan as she ran a slender finger along his hard length.
"I thought a princess wasn't supposed to be telling a king what to do."
Her coy smile made him fumble in his trying to rid her of her clothing.
"Surely it's the king who tells people what's what but tonight, the princess is granted a boon."
"I'm not a princess."
The soft growl made him laugh, unconsciously licking his lips. His mouth was getting very dry very fast and wine wasn't what he wanted at the moment.
"I know."
She helped him shrug off her tunic, noticing his huff of irritation at the layers she had been wearing. Before he could tug her smallclothes off hungrily, she stilled his wandering hands.
"I would like to exercise the boon."
Something unintelligible that sounded close to a whine and an agreement left his lips.
"Alright."
Impatience was obvious in his voice but he didn't care. She kept brushing his hands away from reaching for her perfectly rounded breasts. She was as magnificent as the last time he had seen her. Maybe even more so.
Her dark hair splayed out wildly on his pillows, her eyes flashing with amusement, grey and warm. Not for the first time was he thankful for the candlelight. Her skin glowed ethereally, perfect, smoothly stretched over sculpted limbs and soft curves.
"Touch yourself."
"Excuse me?"
"Do it."
"I'd rather touch you."
He looked at her quizzically as she pulled herself to sit in front of him.
"Touch. Yourself."
Her promising curl of lips made him obey. Aegon thought it would be awkward. It was the first time he'd touched himself in front of someone but as he stroked himself he looked up to see her wolfish eyes watching him.
He slowed his ministrations, looking at her mouth, imagining it on his cock. He groaned aloud. The first time they had fucked, it had been a whirlwind of heated unbridled sex but he saw how she found this slow torture of a game far more enjoyable.
He watched her unconsciously lick her lips, making him thrust his hips forcibly against his hand, the other touching his sack. She shifted, taking off her smallclothes and pulling her legs up to her before opening them to his eyes, knees up, allowing him a glorious view to her center. Pink and wet. It took everything for him not to grapple and fuck her then.
She leaned her head on one leg, making sure his eyes were on hers before sliding a hand down her inner thigh to her heat. He gaped, pausing in his ministrations.
"Did I tell you to stop?"
He shook his head dumbly, stroking painfully faster, eyes enraptured as she proceeded to slide a finger along her wet inner lips. She spread herself for him to see, moaning at her own touch as she slipped a two digits into her hole with a soft sucking sound, her other hand rubbing at the small nub at the mouth of her center. He did not notice the seed in his hands as he sat on his legs, frozen.
"Hah..."
She added another finger thrusting in and out of her heat, falling back against the pillows with her being spread out before him shamelessly. He shifted forward only to be stilled by a growl from her to stay.
He watched her throw back her head, eyes shut in ecstasy, her neck stretched, calling to him, but he remained frozen in awe. She rolled forward, her hand still between her legs as she crept towards him. He watched fascinated as she tugged at his hand, still slick with his seed, licking at his fingers. His cock jerked to life.
He let her push him on his back, her predator eyes never leaving his as she lowered her head to taste him.
Gods be good. Her hot tongue was no illusion as it flicked against the slit of his head. She barely encased him in her mouth before he came undone again. He lay gasping before he felt her hand around his wrist, tugging.
He sat up to follow as his hand was led between her thighs. His mouth kissed her, silencing her moan as he entered two fingers, knuckle deep inside her slick heat. He found he liked his taste on her lips, gasping as she massaged his sack playfully. One hand found her hair as he kissed her desperately, his other preoccupied with keeping time to her breathing.
His cock rubbed against her taut belly before he found he could not bare not being in her any longer. He pushed her down roughly as her hands ran up and down his front and back, battling his tongue with hers. He pulled away for a moment to slip into her heat but she pushed at his shoulders.
"Hah-not yet."
He growled in reply, his cock twitching to feel her.
"Kiss me first."
"Where?"
"Everywhere."
And he did. Her lips first. Then her jaw. Then her neck, making her mewl. Her delicious sounds egging him on. He forced himself to slow, savoring her breasts in his mouth and hand, catching her hard nipples between his teeth. Sucking, biting, sucking again while one hand ran up her thighs, and roughly rubbing against her nub. He had her incredibly loud and lewd as his tongue joined his fingers on her heat.
Her hypnotizing scent washed over him as he planted his lips around her nub and sucked hard, feeling her quiver around him. She came undone as his teeth grazed lightly around her.
He climbed over her, catching her breath as the waves of her tipping over the edge ebbed away. He penetrated her without warning, his mouth already on hers, smothering her cry. She clawed at his back, her hips thrusting up wildly to meet his but he held her down. He pulled out halfway slowly before ramming in her, the cry of pleasure leaving his lips before he could stop it.
Their last night had been no dream. Her heat around him was real. Her throaty cries of pleasure were no lies. He pushed deeper, their bodies meeting, pressing against each other as if in any moment they would meld into the other.
XII.
"I almost forgot why I came tonight."
He turned to her as she lay nestled, warm and deliciously naked beside him.
"This can't be anything more than this, you know."
He knew. Aegon knew and yet hearing it from her lips, swollen from their fervent kisses, was—shattering to say the least. He'd been dreaming for moons, filled with want and guilt because of that want, but at that time he had not known who she was. The dreams had been egged on by the insane hope that he might meet the Faceless Man again, that he could have her again despite knowing her as Varys' murderer.
Now, knowing who she was, whose blood she carried, what little hope he had died a horrible death. Aegon watched mesmerized by her eyes, clear without a hint of doubt, belying the storm of emotions he was in.
He did not know how long he stayed awake, cold despite the many layers she tucked him in as she kissed him chastely on his fore whispering goodnight. Goodbye.
He did not know how long but when he woke, the world seemed to hazy for only a moment before clearing, sharp and real.
XIII.
Aegon didn't know why he wasn't quite surprised when Bran decided to join him for a walk later that day though it was a bit unnerving to have to glance up every now and then to the boy who rode atop the one called Hodor, Snow looming from behind, just out of earshot.
"Good day for a walk, isn't it?" the younger king called.
"Quite."
"The world seems clearer now, doesn't it? You did right in letting go though for a moment I had a horrible feeling you'd be just like someone I used to know."
Aegon blinked. It took him a moment to understand the boy's words and it left him far from comfortable.
"How did—"
Did the Starks share everything among themselves? Had they been playing him a fool all along? Before he could voice his outrage, Bran interrupted him, as if reading his mind.
"I understand that I am not exactly one you would trust but trust me when I say we never planned anything untoward, Aegon."
He could feel himself calming despite the voice in his head doubting the other's words. Bran was using that voice again. The voice he used that sounded all too knowing, all too old and understanding, that left even Tyrion silent at times.
"Arya did not say but I know things, things that even my dear sister would not care to share. The death of Varys was never planned. Arya does what Arya wants afterall, anybody would be loath to stop her."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I find talking to Aegon, the king, much more appealing than talking to shades long gone. Also, I've found that feeling torn and broken doesn't make you any less free. Quite the opposite, really."
They walked for a time, returning as the first snow of that day started to fall.
XIV.
Seeing her again across the table, surrounded by the already familiar voices of those who stood to protect the realm, it was easy to talk strategy. Easy to look away from her sharp grey eyes. Easy to return her quiet smile when she looked his way. Easy to jape with Tyrion on the woes of having a love never to be had (the others never found it amusing though Snow was certainly warming up to him even if just by a bit).
XV.
"You are Aegon, are you not?"
Her tone as she asks him again sparks irritation in him. Nevermind that he's asking her, no, begging her to stay.
"Yes, I am. Now if you would just listen—"
He tries to push himself up from his position on the bed before she presses him down once again, only this time, she is clothed and he is still naked.
"There'll be no Lyanna in this story, Aegon."
And the way she says his name, it stills him more than what her statement implies. He watches her leave the way she entered, silent, not a footfall or rustle of cloth to be heard.
XVI.
His world is clear and maybe a bit too sharp, but clear nonetheless. Being the king he was meant to be was easier when all that was left of the haze that had fallen around him the fateful night he met a certain Faceless Man were just shreds of what it used to be. A direwolf's teeth are quite sharp afterall.