A/N: This story takes place 25 years after the defeat of the Night King, and assumes that Dany was able to finally claim the Iron throne with Jon at her side. This is my take on what happens to our favorite characters years down the road, with many surprises to come!

Chapter 1

King's Landing

The sun's warm rays wash over the marvelous capital of King's Landing, home to many kings and queens from past centuries. Home to the Targaryens.

Queen Daenerys walks with her pale hands clasped together, the skirts of her long silk dress of black and gold flow gracefully behind her and seem to shimmer in the sunlight with her movements. She walks through the courtyard, admiring the lovely collage of chrysanthemums, orchids, and azaleas which had only just begun to bloom with the arrival of spring.

She closes her eyes and listens to the bird singing their sweet songs to the Gods, and lets the gentle breeze tease her long, silver hair around her face. For a moment she forgets that she is Queen. She forgets that she has seven kingdoms to rule. For a moment she allows herself to just simply be.

Across the courtyard, Jon Snow is walking alongside his hand, Ser Davos Seaworth, discussing matters of the crown. Jon comes to a slow stop when he sees Daenerys standing just a few feet away, her back turned to them.

"...and we still have to deal with the Iron Bank.." Ser Davos trails off as he realizes the King is no longer listening. "Your Grace?" he furrows his brows and then realization sets in when he sees what it is-or who it is that has caught his king's attention. He fights a grin and clears his throat.

"Hmm?" Jon blinks at him, his dark eyes clouded. "Oh, yes, yes-the Iron Bank. I trust that you will see to that, Ser Davos?" Jon claps a heavy hand on Davos's shoulder with a nod. "If you excuse me.."

Jon turns toward Daenerys and Ser Davos watches him for a moment, amusement dancing on his age-worn face, before he turns and heads back toward the castle.

As Jon approaches Daenerys she speaks without turning her head. "This weather is an omen from the Gods. The coming of Spring brings good fortune to Westeros."

"Don't speak of omens," Jon says darkly as he moves to stand next to her, shoulders almost touching. "The last one we had nearly brought death and destruction to us all."

"Yes, but it's been twenty five years now, my love." Daenerys looks at Jon, a soft smile tugging at her perfect lips and he melts just as much now as he did all those years ago when they first met. "And things have been far from perfect, yes, but there is peace in knowing that all we have to deal with are things we're used to, rather than dead men."

Jon can't argue with that. After the War for the Dawn, with the Night King and his army defeated it was like a huge cold weight had been lifted from Westeros. The world was back as it should be, with real world problems with real living people. Jon wouldn't have it any other way. But still, a sadness still tugs at his heart like a thorn when he thinks of that dark time. The time where there was so much death. So much loss.

"Many lives were lost so that we may live," Jon softly reminded her, not that she needed reminding. Daenerys knew very well what the war had cost them. It had cost her Ser Jorah Mormont, her loyal friend that willingly laid down his life to protect her. It had cost her the lives of many she had freed and sworn to protect and lead.

The hardest loss, however, was that of her very own first born daughter. She was almost overwhelmed by a heavy cloud of sadness and she seemed to sway on her feet. She reached out to grasp the rail in front of her, squeezing it so tight her knuckles went white. Jon glanced at her and covered her small hand with his own, and he felt her relax under his touch.

Daenerys had fallen pregnant during the war, and afraid for the life of her child and on a command from the red Priestess, Melisandre, who acting on orders from the Lord of Light had advised Daenerys to send her child far away to the foreign land of Essos with Missandei to look after her. Dany had fought hard to convince herself it was the right thing to do, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't cover up the hole in her heart for sending her baby away. Even though she knows that it was necessary and desired by the Lord of Light himself.

"You must have faith that your daughter will one day return to you," Melisandre, the mysterious red woman had said to Dany and Jon years ago. After the war was over and the iron throne was reclaimed from the hands of their enemies, they had hoped they would finally be able to go and find their daughter and bring her home. But Melisandre insisted that R'hllos, as she calls her god, had other plans and they must not interfere.

"You expect us to pretend we don't have a daughter out there who needs us!" Dany had cried out, wanting to throw herself at the infuriating woman but Jon had had his strong arms wrapped around her, holding her back. "The war is over now, she belongs here, with us!"

"The Lord of Light-"

"-I don't care what your lord says!" Dany shrieked, tears streaming from her violet eyes. "I want her back! I want her…" her words had turned to choked sobs as Jon held her, fighting tears of his own. He wanted their daughter back just as much as she did, he longed to meet the tiny bundle he had created with the love of his life. But after being brought back to life and being able to defeat the night king, Jon had reason enough to believe in the Lord of Light and have faith. He knew his daughter was meant for a greater destiny, and he knew better than anyone else alive that you couldn't escape destiny.

Daenerys seemed to snap out of her trance, and she briskly wiped away a stray tear that had escaped her eye at the painful memory. "I can't afford to look weak to the people. Things are expected of me."

"Look at me."

Violet eyes met dark brown, and she felt his warmth and love infuse into her. Oh, how she loved this man. He was her King, her life. Blood of her blood. She would never have even been standing here in King's Landing without him and his many sacrifices.

Jon trailed the back of his hand softly against her cheek, nothing but affection for his wife. He chose to follow her all those years ago because he believed in her. He fell in love with her even when he didn't want to. Now she was his Queen and the mother of his children. They were truly made for each other.

"You are a Queen," he said to her softly. "You can look or feel whatever you want, especially around me. And if the people have a problem with it, well.." his full lips turned up into a grin. "Then you can just unleash the dragon."

Daenerys let out a laugh, unable to resist her husband's humor. They laughed together, and it felt nice. It felt free.

…

King's Landing-Dragon Pit

The clash of steel rang around the stone walls of the dragon pit as the men sparred. Prince Eddard Targaryen, paced around the men, watching them fight closely. He was the eldest son to Jon and Daenerys and was therefor the heir to the iron throne, and also Lord Commander of the royal army.

Standing tall with a body strengthened and hardened by years of battle, and a handsome face crowned by a head full of rich, black curls he resembled his father in every way except height. He was very handsome, and there wasn't a lady in all the seven kingdoms who wouldn't kill for the chance to marry him.

Eddard, named for his late great uncle Eddard Stark, was a young man of honor and quiet seriousness. There wasn't anyone who could question his honor or dedication to the realm and devotion to his family. He didn't much care for battle, in fact he hated to spill blood. But it couldn't be denied that he was good at it, a truly gifted fighter.

His second in command, Daario Naharis stood at the front of the pit with his arms crossed as he watched the men train. Though twenty five years had aged him, he was still undeniably handsome and strong. He had come all the way from Essos shortly after the Great War to pledge his sword to Queen Daenerys and brought his Second Sons with him. Now the royal army that serves the capital of Westeros is the largest and strongest army in the realm and is still growing.

"Parry!" Daario barked at the new young soldiers, freshly sworn into the royal army and had just begun their training. "Don't let the enemy get the best of you. You must trace his movements with your eyes. A man's eyes are just as much a weapon as his sword. Wouldn't you agree, my prince?" the older soldier asks of Eddard.

"Aye." Eddard steps forward and draws his sword. The group of recruits stop fighting and watch nervously as the prince approaches. Daario chuckles. These boys are all so green they piss grass, none of them ever having tasted battle.

"You take your eye off your enemy for one second, and that one second could cost you your life," Eddard says wisely, his dragon steel sword poised. He locks eyes with the nearest soldier, a boy named Hadrian. Eddard stops and gives a slight nod to the boy, a signal to attack him.

Hadrian swallows and hesitates, and Eddard can see the calculation in his eyes as he decides the best move. He finally lunges forward and swings at Eddard. The prince easily dodges the attack and as quick as a snake, whips his sword toward Hadrian for a counter. Hadrian locks his sword with Eddards with a loud clang! Beads of sweat gather on his forehead as he strains to overpower the prince. Eddard takes a step back and in one quick movement has his sword firmly against Hadrian's chest, which heaves as the boy stares in amazement at the prince.

"But I was watching you!" he protests, lowering his sword.

"But you weren't seeing," Eddard tells him. "Which brings us to our next lesson."

Hadrian's eyes focus on something over Eddard's shoulder and the boy quickly kneels to the ground, and everyone else follows suit. Eddard turns to see his father walking swiftly toward them and quickly lowers his sword, dipping his head in respect to the king.

"Father."

Jon acknowledges everyone with a nod and focuses his gaze on his son. "Training hard I see?"

"Aye." Daario Naharis speaks up, tossing his sickle blade in the air before catching it and sheathing it. "These wet ears have a long way to go before they become knights, but they're not the worst bunch I've seen." He comes to stand beside Eddard and eyes Jon, the hint of a challenge in his gaze. It is evident to everyone in the capital that Daario and Jon don't like each other, probably because of Daario's obvious affections for the Mother of Dragons.

"Come to join us, your Grace?" Daario asks, his hand on the his sword hilt.

Jon meets his gaze with disdain and answers. "As much as my old bones could use the exercise, no." He looks back at his son. "Your mother requests your presence in the throne room."

"Yes, father." Eddard bows with respect and turns to address his men. "As you were. Daario, you're in charge."

The prince starts to head back toward the castle and Jon turns to follow him when Daario calls out mischievously, "I'll be waiting on that friendly little spar, your Grace!"

Jon stops and turns his head to cast a glare at Daario's smug face. "If it is your wish to look foolish in front of your men, very well. I'll add it to my long list of things to do."

And with that he turned to follow his son out of the dragon pit.

…

King's Landing-Throne Room

Daenerys sits perched on the iron throne in all her beauty, engaged in a discussion with her hand, Tyrion. A few loyal Dothraki warriors that had survived the war remain as part of the Queen's guard, along with a couple most trusted soldiers of the royal army. Lord Varys stands at her left side, a large tome open on a pedestal in front of him, his quill dashing across the aged parchment as it is his duty to record everything that occurs in meetings.

The great doors swing open and Prince Eddard and King Jon enter the large throne room. Daenerys looks up and smiles at the sight of her husband and dear son.

"My dear, son," she rises from the throne and gathers up her dress to go down the steps to meet her son. She takes Eddard's hands and beams at him. She can never get over how much he looks like his handsome father. "I have news."

"News?" Eddard raises his brows to Jon, whose face gives nothing away. "The last time you had news, I was getting yet another younger sibling."

"Yes, they do seem to pile up, don't they?" Tyrion teased, his words met by gentle laughter through the room. Even Dany had to laugh.

Not counting Rhayana in Essos, Daenerys and Jon had five children together- Eddard being the eldest, then Alexander, Katarina, Kaiden, and Caius. When she found out she was fertile again, she and Jon didn't waste any time surrounding themselves with children to love.

"No, that ship sailed long ago. Although, not without lack of trying," Dany and Jon meet each other's gaze playfully and Eddard resists the urge to vomit, although he has to admire his parents young hearts and open affection for one another. He hoped to have that with a woman some day.

"I have found you a wife worthy of my blood," Dany tells him, and Eddard isn't sure he heard her correctly. "Her name is Ophelia Karstark, of the grand city of Volantis. Her beauty is legend from across the narrow sea. She will arrive within the fortnight and you will be wed."

At first Eddard doesn't know quite what to say. He had always thought he'd marry one day, yes, but not quite so soon. And he hadn't expected his mother to be the one to choose his bride for him.

"Did you hear your mother?" Jon spoke, placing his hand on Eddard's shoulder. "You'd better shape up before the arrival of your bride to be."

"Um, yes." Eddard forced a smile and dipped his head to the Queen. "I am honored, mother. I can't wait to meet her." But in truth he was already shaking in his boots. What would she think of him? What would he think of her? Would they fall in love? Or would it just be another loveless political marriage as seemed to be custom in Westeros?

….

Winterfell

The noise of the meeting room starts to make Sansa's head ache, and she quickly wraps up the discussion and dismisses her council. The weight of responsibility as Lady of Winterfell and Queen in the North weighs heavily on her and she must feel ten years older than she actually is.

"My lady," Lord Ivis nods to Sansa as he leads the council out. Sansa stays seated for a while before finally dragging herself to her feet. How she longs to just crawl into bed and forget her troubles. Forget that there is a house full of enemies that want to see her house burn, and her entire family with it.

Twenty five years since the War for the Dawn had brought peace to the land of Westeros, but hadn't lasted long before it became known that the Freys thrived and somehow managed to rebuild. Now fueled with anger and resentment toward the Starks, and with the primary target-Arya, being out of reach-they turned their target at Winterfell, well within reach.

The Starks and the Freys had been locked in a bitter rivalry for years, and it was only a matter of time before they decided to attack and exact their revenge. Sansa grew tired of living in fear-even with allies and support from King's Landing. She couldn't afford to lose any of her men or put her family at risk for another stupid war.

Sansa decided she needed some fresh air after being holed up inside all day, and walked out into the courtyard to find it alight with activity. Farm animals squealed and grunted, kids laughed and chased around dogs. Men sparred and fought outside the barracks. Smoke billowed from the blacksmith as the clang of steel could be heard throughout Winterfell.

It made her think of her husband, Gendry, who was probably hard at work, crafting their livelihood. Sansa made her way toward the blacksmith and peaked in. Sure enough she found him, pounding on a blade with a hammer.

She liked to watch him work, admired the way his muscles rippled and the sweat that glistened on his sun kissed skin. It was a wonder how she would end up falling in love with a smith boy, but he really was much more. They had bonded during the war, and Gendry had fought as valiantly as any knight Sansa had ever seen. But what made her fall for him was when he nearly died saving her from a group of wights. The horror of it still haunted her from time to time.

Gendry had proven himself to be more than a smith, he was a brave warrior, and strong. He could wield a hammer like none she'd ever seen. And as her husband he was lord of Winterfell, and rightfully so.

Only when he turned to soak the blade in the molten with a faint hiss did he see his wife standing there, leaning against the beam, watching him. His freckled brown face turned into a smile and his dark blue eyes softened with affection.

"How long you been standing there, my lady?" he teased, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands with.

"Long enough." Sansa tilted her chin up for a kiss which he willingly planted on her lips. When they pulled away she looked at him. "You look exhausted, my love. You should retire for the evening."

"You may have just given me a reason to."

The two step out of the smith and out into the courtyard. Their youngest son, Ryon dashes past them, a flock of chickens scurrying away in a flurry of feathers and offensive squawks as the youngest Stark chases them. Sansa and Gendry watch their son with affection.

Sansa wished she could enjoy moments like this without the threat across the north looming over them.

"I'll need to leave for King's Landing in the morning," Gendry breaks her thoughts. "Got another shipment to deliver."

"Can't one of the others do it?" Sansa suddenly feels apprehensive. She doesn't like the thought of Gendry leaving Winterfell for a long period of time. "Why must you go yourself?"

"I've been wanting to pay a visit to Davos and Jon for a while. And you know I like to travel. The quiet of the road is relaxing to me." He meets his wife's anxious look and concern seeps into his gaze. "What is it, Sansa?" He answers his own question just as soon as it left his mouth and he sighs heavily. "Still paranoid about the blasted Freys?"

"As we all should be," She says sharply, turning to walk across the courtyard. "It's only a matter of time before they make their move."

"You've been saying that for years, and the Freys have made empty threats for years," Gendry walks beside her, shrugging away her worries. "They know the second they attack us, they're fucked. Your brother would put a stop to that before it even started."

"And how long would it take for an army to get here from King's Landing?" Sansa retorted. "How much blood would be spilled before then? I don't want to live in fear-"

"Then don't." Gendry stops her and turns her to face him. "They barely have an army my love. They are still fractured from the damage your sister dealt them years ago."

"And yet my sister didn't kill all the Freys," Sansa argued bitterly. "One managed to slip through her fingertips and has been rebuilding all these years. They have hated us for years, all the way back to when my brother, Robb was alive. They will leap at a chance to murder us all."

"Then I will smash every last one of them to the ground." Gendry placed his callused hands on Sansa's face. "No one will hurt my family and Winterfell will never fall. Not so long as I'm alive. That I promise you."

Sansa wanted to believe in his words, and it was hard not to as she looked into his deep blue eyes and felt the comforting touch of his labor hardened hands. But Sansa had been used to living in fear since she was a girl, cowering for her life in King's Landing which seems like such a long time ago now.

"Besides," Gendry continued, "as long as we continue supplying them with dragon steel, that should keep them at bay. No one in Westeros has ever crafted such steel since valyrian steel ages ago. That is something we will always have in advantage."

He had a point. When Gendry learned of an entire cave of dragon glass at Dragonstone years ago, he had taken a sample of it and started experimenting. It took some years of trial and error, but he had managed to forge a blade which could almost rival valyrian steel, and was the most valuable in Westeros. It became the main source of income for House Stark, as they provided weapons to all seven kingdoms. And it was indeed probably the main reason the Freys haven't attacked them yet-they would forfeit their right to the valuable supply.

"True enough," Sansa agreed. "Let us hope it will enough to appease them."

…..

Winterfell-Dining Hall

The Starks sat and dined together that night. Sansa tried not to think about Gendry taking off across the countryside toward King's Landing, hundreds of miles away. She just couldn't stand the thought of him being away from her for so long.

Ryon, who was six years old threw a breadroll across the table at Talia, his fourteen year old sister.

"Ow!" Talia shot daggers at her younger brother. "Mother!"

"Oh hush now, it's only bread," Gendry teased, reaching over to playfully pinch Talia's cheek, making her giggle.

Sansa watched the exchange, feeling a wave of nostalgia as she remembered a time when her sister Arya would often throw food at her as a favorite dinner game of hers when they were children. How long ago that seemed. Sansa often found herself thinking of her sister.

"Mother, when is aunt Arya coming home?" Ethan, Talia's twin asked, as if he could read Sansa's thoughts.

Sansa smiled weakly at her son. "I don't know, my sweet. I expect she's still travelling the world." Arya had gone her separate way after the war years ago, seeking to go travel and live a life unbound by rules. She would send ravens from time to time and had even visited on occasion, but hadn't in the last couple years. Gods only knew what she was up to, but Sansa knew her sister was a survivor.

"Auntie is so brave," Talia said admirably. "I hope to be like her one day."

"Yeah right, you can't even hold a sewing needle, much less a sword!" Asher, the second eldest son teased. He had fiery red hair like Sansa and a temper to match. He was always getting into fights and trying to prove himself the biggest and strongest.

"Shut up!"

Their eldest, Rodrick, hadn't returned from his hunting expedition he embarked on with a few of the other men in Winterfell. It had become a custom among the men now to go out hunting wild boar and sleep under the stars. She didn't approve of course, it was dangerous and each night he was away from home she worried. She remembered how King Robert Baratheon, her children's grandfather had been fatally wounded by a boar while he'd been out hunting years ago. The thrill of the hunt was definitely in her son's blood, as was a taste for killing. It worried her, but she was also proud because her sons were both gifted warriors and the North needed that.

Mira, their eldest daughter, sat properly like a lady as she ate her food and rolled her eyes at her siblings. She always held herself with poise, and reminded Sansa of herself. She believed her daughter was meant for things beyond Winterfell.

When her children proceeded to play with their food rather than eat it, Sansa decided it was time for bed.

"Off you go. Talia, help Ryon get ready for bed."

"Come on, you." Talia ushered her younger brother toward his room as the other Stark children followed suit.

Sansa and Gendry retired to their chambers for the evening and began to undress. Sansa slipped into a nightgown and climbed into bed beside Gendry, who had opted for loose pants and no shirt, his strong arms tucked behind his head.

"I think you should take Mira with you to King's Landing," Sansa said, and he looked at her in shock.

"What for?" he inquired, his dark brows knit together in curiosity.

"She needs to learn the ways of a Southern court. Like I did at her age." Sansa smiled at the memory of herself in King's Landing, dressed in the fancy dresses, her long red hair done in the elegant braids of the south. Even though she had lived in fear of the Lannisters, she couldn't help but admire Cersei. "Perhaps she'll even meet a Lord and marry."

Gendry huffed. "She's too young."

"So was I. But it was necessary. It made me appreciate where I come from. Besides, it might be nice for her to better get to know that side of her family."

Gendry hesitated, seeming to debate over the matter. He didn't like the idea of his daughter so far away in King's Landing, but Sansa had a point. She had a right to get to know her family.

"Very well, you should send a raven," he gave in.

"But Gendry, be sure and take your most trusted soldiers with you," said Sansa, turning to rest her cheek against his bare chest. "The roads can be perilous with hill tribes and what not…" and rival houses, she thought but didn't say aloud. "And keep her safe."

"Of course I'll keep her-"

"-And," Sansa reached up to place a finger against his lips. "Be sure you return to me in one piece. As quick as you can."

Gendry looked at her and his dark eyes softened. He planted a warm kiss to her forehead. "I will"

….

King's Landing

Daenerys tossed and turned that night, her sleep disturbed with nightmares.

Fire, she could see fire. Everywhere. From Drogon, maybe? But it wasn't just her enemies that seemed to be in flames, but the entire city of King's Landing seemed to be on fire. How could this be? Screams could be heard all around. Darkness. So much darkness...and fear. Fear was so strong it left a stench in the air. Blood. Blood covered the streets. Bodies everywhere.

The image of King's Landing faded and melted into another image, this one seemed to be the countryside but it was so dark and hard to see. Large shadows loomed overhead, and the sky lit with flames. Dragons? Not her dragons, though. These dragons Daenerys had never seen before. They seemed bigger, deadlier. Their screeches rang through the dark night, their red hot flames burning everything in sight to the ground. No...no! What is this? Is this...the future? The past maybe?

Daenerys woke with a jolt, her chest heaving and drenched in sweat. Jon slept soundly next to her, looking peaceful as he was probably having more pleasant dreams that the horrific one she just had. Not wanting to wake him, she quietly climbed out of bed and wrapped a white silk robe around herself. There was no way she would be able to go back to sleep after that. She needed to find Melisandre and seek her wisdom as to what the dream could possibly mean. Daenerys was sure it meant something. It seemed prophetic, much like the one she had years ago in the House of the Undying.

She grabbed a torch and stepped out into the quiet castle halls. Everyone else slept, safe in their beds while Daenerys tiptoed through the castle, her mind spinning. She couldn't seem to shake the fear from her nightmare.

She found Melisandre's chambers and raised her hand to knock, thinking of an apology for waking the red priestess when the door suddenly opened before she could. Melisandre stood before Dany, fully dressed and her bed behind her didn't look slept in. Did the red woman ever sleep?

"Your Grace, I was expecting you."