Frostfyre

by Xebecs

The ice dragon

1. Chapter 1

Summary:

"A Death for a Life."

As Lyanna Stark dies giving birth to Rhaegar Targaryen's last child, a dragon egg hatches for the babe. With her final breath, she begs her brother Ned to keep her son and the dragon infant safe.

Jon Snow dreams of a dragon throughout his childhood; a dragon and a girl named Dany. As the years pass and he learns his true heritage, Jon must reclaim the dragon that was born for him if he is to find his place in the world. Should he not be prepared when he is inevitably discovered, King Robert will undoubtedly hunt him down.

Daenerys Targaryen is struggling to survive. When the man meant to protect Dany and her brother Viserys dies, they are left to fend for themselves in a cruel world. A world that is quickly leaving her older brother unhinged. A world where the only joy is found in Dragon Dreams of a boy named Jon.

When they realize their dreams are more than just nighttime fantasies, Jon learns that Dany is about to be sold to a Dothraki barbarian. Astride his dragon, Frostfyre, the boy must face impossible odds to help her.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Storms and Dragon Dreams

Chapter Text

Chapter One: Storms and Dragon Dreams

It was a sickening feeling. To watch your family die before you and slowly, painfully realize that there was nothing you could do to save them.

Eddard Stark leaned over the dying shape of his sister, Lyanna. The young woman was covered in sweat, every breath seemed to pain her, and her abdomen and the space between her legs was soaked in too much blood to survive losing. She'd always been small of stature.

Her body hadn't been able to withstand what must have been a difficult birth.

A wet-nurse brought the babe to him, and Ned held the infant—a baby boy—close in his arms for his mother to see before she died.

Lyanna lifted a weak hand to touch the babe's cheek with a single, shaking finger. She swallowed hard and her voice, hoarse and scratchy from screaming in pain during her labor, was barely audible to her brother. "Ned, you have to protect them…"

Them?

He looked back at the nurse, but there was only one child. His sister had not conceived twins, so what was she…

He heard a cracking sound, sharp and intense, and was instantly alert. He clutched the babe close and the sound came again from—from the fireplace. Was that why it was so horribly hot in here?

A third crack was heard, followed by a thin screech, and Ned's face paled. What in the name of the gods—

His eyes locked onto a small, ovular object in the flames. It wriggled and wobbled, and then split open. A gangly, awkward shape crawled out of the fireplace, shaking shells off of its body and Ned's heart was seized with cold fear. He only barely registered that the wet-nurse had disappeared.

It was a dragon. There was no other creature it could possibly have been. It stumbled onto the floor and looked up at him with bright, amethyst eyes, which held a startling contrast to its snowy white scales.

The dragon-infant leapt onto the bed and sniffed at the blood, and Ned was a heartbeat away from taking his sword out and skewering the thing when it scrambled up to Lyanna and licked at her cheek, crooning sadly.

The girl's lips quivered. "It's okay…Ned—Ned my son, I need…"

"Is it—is it safe?" He choked out.

"She won't…hurt him," Lyanna gasped. He knelt quickly, heart pounding, blood racing and it took all the self-control he had not to break down in tears. His sister would be dead soon, he knew.

The dragon looked at the babe and chirped, tilting her head at the child. Ned watched as the babe, strangely quiet for a newborn, shuffled in his arms, and reached out with a single, chubby hand for the creature. He almost pulled them apart, but the dragon pressed her snout to the babe's palm with a gentleness he wouldn't have thought possible.

Lyanna's smile was pained, her eyes filled with tears. "Ned, you…you have to keep them sa..safe…"

Ned looked at her with wide eyes. She swallowed hard, crying as she died. "His name is Aegon Targaryen. The dragon is his…she hatched for him. My—my husband said she would."

Her husband. Rhaegar.

Who else could have given her the dragon egg?

Horror filled Ned. "Lyanna, oh gods…"

"He needs her," she begged him. "Please, Ned. Promise me."

He looked down at the babe, the heir to the Iron Throne—his nephew—and the snowy white dragon that had not pulled away from her…Rider? Brother? He didn't know anything about the magic of Old Valyria.

What had Lyanna and Rhaegar done? What had they done?

"Promise me, Ned. Promise me…"

Ned had to make several decisions very quickly upon returning to Winterfell.

Lyanna was dead. Rhaegar was dead. Rhaegar's first wife, Princess Elia Martell, and their two children were dead. Aerys Targaryen, the Mad King, was dead. Robert Baratheon was King of the Seven Kingdoms. He now sat on the Iron Throne.

Ned was the Lord of his House now, the Warden of the North. His wife, Catelyn, had just given birth to their firstborn child.

He re-named Aegon Targaryen as Jon Snow and claimed him as his bastard son.

Even now, as he rode with his brother, Benjen—the only other person beyond Lord Howland Reed who knew the truth of what had happened in the Tower of Joy—with Jon safely within the walls of their home, he could not forget the look of shock and shame and fathomless disappointment on his wife's face.

They were riding to the Wall. To Castle Black. To the Night's Watch. Benjen was going to take the Black and serve as a ranger. To keep watch of the second secret Lyanna had somehow birthed with Valyrian magic.

The dragon was being kept in a makeshift cage, held in one arm as they rode, and he had no idea why it had remained silent all this time. Perhaps he'd fed it enough to keep its mouth shut. Perhaps it was once again displaying that unsettling intelligence he'd witnessed when the creature was freshly hatched, and somehow knew it needed to stay quiet.

There was only one person he trusted to tell him anything about the dragon, and how to handle it.

Aemon Targaryen had been old before Eddard was born. He'd lived longer than most people in Westeros dared to hope for, to say nothing of the Far North. The Wall, of all places.

Ned had spoken to him only a handful of times when his father, Rickard Stark, had brought him and his brothers to Castle Black to meet the men of the Night's Watch. He didn't know the ancient Targaryen well, but he knew Aemon was a man with a good heart. Rickard had always spoken of the Maester with great respect.

Now he arrived at the Castle—the last stronghold of the Night's Watch—and with a brief announcement regarding the going-ons of the south, requested to meet with the Maester himself, and Lord-Commander Jeor Mormont.

The meeting was conducted in utmost secrecy.

Ned told Aemon Targaryen of the fate of his House in-person. He would not disrespect the man by allowing him to hear of his House's ruin from a second-hand source.

Aemon was old, but for the first time in his life, Ned looked into the eyes of a man and saw dragonfire. The Maester was shaking not from cold, but silent rage, so great that Ned feared he might be having a fit for a moment. They waited until Aemon had settled some before he continued on.

"Aerys and Rhaegar paid for their crimes," he murmured. They were locked in the Lord-Commander's office, ensuring no one else could hear them. "But Elia and the children—they didn't deserve their fate. I know Rhaella has fled to Dragonstone with Viserys, and she may yet birth another child, but she's…she has a long history of stillbirths and miscarriages. At this point, Aerys has only one surviving child: Viserys."

"I see," Aemon whispered, voice quivering in rage.

Ned swallowed, looked at Benjen. His younger brother nodded just slightly.

"And so does Rhaegar."

Mormont stared at him, and Aemon blinked slowly.

Ned took a shaky breath and explained to them what he'd found in Dorne. When he was done, and they watched him with a mix of shock and disbelief, he pulled up the cage and uncovered it—displaying the tiny dragon.

Mormont stood up in his shock. "Seven fucking hells."

The dragon only tilted its head at him, growling quietly. She didn't seem to feel threatened.

"Lyanna begged me—she made me promise to keep her son and the dragon safe," Ned told them. He was staring at Aemon pleadingly. "The boy I claimed as my own—as my bastard. I will raise him myself. But the dragon—"

"She cannot remain south of the Wall," Aemon said immediately. He held a hand up, reaching for the cage with his failing vision, and when his fingers found the bars, the dragon perked up. She sniffed his hand and nudged what she could reach with her nose, nearly purring at the contact.

Aemon's eyes filled with tears. "Oh. Oh, how I wish I could see you properly, little one."

"What's to become of them?" Mormont asked hesitantly. "The boy and the dragon? Do you mean to put them on the Iron Throne?"

Ned pursed his lips. "No. I will not start another war, not even if my nephew were to beg me to do so when he is older. Not even if we had the backing of a fully grown dragon. But I promised Lyanna I'd keep them safe. If…if that means keeping them separate forever, setting the dragon loose and ensuring that they never meet again, then so be it."

"That will not work."

They stared at Aemon, who had his eyes closed as the dragon tenderly nuzzled and licked at the Targaryen elder—she sensed the Valyrian magic in his blood, Ned was sure of it.

"She bonded with the babe. She will never forget him. One day, she might even come looking for him."

Ned's throat tightened. "She cannot. It will give his identity away."

"Yes…They must grow until they can fend for themselves," Aemon agreed. "We will free the dragon beyond the Wall. She will have to survive on her own. You will raise the boy. One day, they will meet again. Whether he sets her free of her bond to him, or if they choose to fly away into exile together, the choice will be theirs."

Benjen looked at Mormont. "I came to take the Black. I will become a Ranger and…watch the dragon, to the best of my ability, wherever we set her loose."

"You will ride with me at first light," he replied. "There are a few places I can think of that might suit her. Caves. It will take us time to reach them, and it will be dangerous. But the dragon cannot be close enough to the Wall for our spotters to see her when she can fly."

"It will be a harsh life," Aemon croaked. "She may not survive for long at all."

"It's the best we can do," Ned said. "We cannot raise a dragon. Her master is an infant, in any case. He can hardly command her."

Aemon nodded and looked at Eddard Stark with the dragonfire in his weak, violet eyes. Targaryen eyes. "The fate of House Targaryen may well rest in your hands now, Lord Stark. I entrust you with the last great secret of my family."

Ned Stark dipped his head, unable to speak.

Benjen and the Lord-Commander rode out for over a week into the icy wilderness beyond the Wall. It was risky. It was dangerous. It was nigh-suicidal.

The Wildlings had been getting closer and closer to their territory as of late. But there could be nothing done about it. Life beyond the Wall was not for the faint of heart.

They found a gigantic cave in the mountains Mormont knew might serve as a suitable home for the creature, who was thus far unimpressed with her surroundings. But she spat pure white dragonfire with increasing frequency to keep herself warm. It had startled them, but she did not seem to care.

When they reached the cave, Benjen opened the cage and set her loose.

The dragon stumbled out on her wing-claws somewhat awkwardly, spitting fire at the snow as if annoyed by it. She looked up at them with those bright, amethyst eyes—the same purple as the humans who had bonded to her species with their old magic.

"You have to go," Benjen uttered, hoping the dragon would somehow understand what he was trying to say. "Jon is—Jon is safe. He'll be safe. But you have to survive out here. We can't hide you."

She tilted her head at him, but she had listened raptly. Benjen swallowed. He knew he was expecting too much from an animal, but supposedly, dragons were incredibly intelligent. More intelligent than men according to Aemon, and he hoped the man's bias wasn't coloring that assessment.

The dragon flicked her tongue out at the men. She stared at Benjen for several moments, then Mormont, as if memorizing them. Then she crouched and threw herself into the sky.

Her first flight was sloppy and she nearly crashed as she flew into the caves, but she let out a shriek that heralded her arrival to this new, snowy world.

Benjen watched her go, and wondered if he'd just sent the last dragon in the world to an icy doom.

Ser Willem Darry knew that he did not have much time.

The Targaryen dynasty was on the verge of collapse. Aerys and his firstborn son were both dead, along with Rhaegar's children.

Rhaella had just died giving birth in the worst storm in recorded history. Dragonstone would weather it, as the mass of black rock always did, and he was suddenly left in charge of her last surviving son, Viserys Targaryen, and her newborn daughter, Daenerys.

As soon as the storm ended, he knew the Lannisters or Baratheons would send ships to find and kill the last of Aerys' family. Though he knew the King was mad, he would not condone the murder of innocent children, and Willem had heard tell of the brutal deaths that had befallen Princess Elia and her offspring.

No, if they stayed, Viserys and Daenerys were as good as dead.

He stared out into the storm, watching the rain and waves rage around the island that had once been the seat of the Targaryen dynasty in Westeros, before Aegon the Conquerer looked west and wanted. He was praying a ship might survive those terrible waves.

Viserys was asleep by now, and Daenerys was being cared for by a wet-nurse and Maester. Rhaella had had a long, unfortunate history of stillborns and birth-defected children. It was the price the Targaryen's paid for the centuries of inbreeding to keep their Valyrian magic strong.

He had to take the children far away from Westeros if they were to have the slightest chance of survival. Braavos—Braavos would do for now. If they had to move, they would move. He had little doubt assassins would follow them one day, but if they laid low, perhaps…perhaps he could get Viserys and Daenerys to the point where they were old enough to survive on their own.

He stood up and left to the storage rooms. They would need to have supplies enough to get them to Braavos, and they had to be ready to leave at a moment's notice.

It was their only chance.

Years passed.

Dany was four years old when she dreamed for the first time.

She stood in an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar land. It was so white—whiter than anything she was used to seeing in Braavos. She was standing in…snow? She thought it was snow. She'd never seen it before, but Ser Willem had told her and her big brother about it.

She stood barefoot in snow, in her favorite yellow dress and was not cold.

Dany looked around and spotted another person not far away, standing between her and a large, black cave. She approached the other child—a boy?—and tapped his shoulder. He jumped and spun around.

He was close to her age. Or maybe he was her age. She couldn't tell. His eyes were a dark grey, so dark they were nearly black. His hair was a similarly dark shade, although it was sable. He wore clothing meant for cold weather, and he didn't seem bothered by the snow, either.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Dany frowned, puzzled. The boy tried the same thing, and he also found himself voiceless.

They heard a deep rumble and turned to the cave with wide eyes.

Piercing violet eyes stared at them from within the cave. A creature started to emerge.

She woke up.

Little Dany stared at the ceiling of their home in Braavos, the night still black around her, and wondered.

She was back again, he thought.

Jon tilted his head at the strange little girl. She had to be about as old as him, and she kept showing up in his dreams. Not all the time—these odd dreams of his only took place perhaps once every month or two, but they lingered in his mind and were impossible to forget.

She was unlike anyone he'd seen in Winterfell, with long, silver hair and bright purple eyes. Her skin was pale, a milky white, and she looked like she was something more than human, at times. It was hard to put into words. She often wore strange dresses, and she stood in the snow with nothing to cover her bare feet.

The five year-old Jon Snow thought that was dumb of her, but she never complained about the cold. Not that either of them could actually say anything here.

That was another thing—neither of them could talk. It was bizarre.

They heard the now-familiar sound of the creature in the cave and both of them looked from each other to the entrance. It got a little further out of the cave every time they dreamed, and he wondered what it was.

This time, it managed to get its snout out of the shadows before the dream ended. His last memory in the dream was of those startling purple eyes—just like the girl's—staring at him.

"Maybe it's a Dragon Dream."

Dany blinked at her older brother. "A Dragon Dream?"

Viserys nodded eagerly. "They're special dreams only Targaryens can have! Most of the time, they involve dragons, obviously. They are prophetic dreams."

"What's pro-fee-tic?"

"Prophetic, little Princess," Ser Willem corrected from the table, passing her a bowl of soup. She smiled and accepted the food happily. "It means they foretell the future. Targaryens have been having Dragon Dreams for generations."

"Oh," she sipped at her soup and smiled at the thought of the solemn boy and the strange creature in the cave. Was that a dragon?

"Or it could be just a regular dream," Viserys shrugged. "I'm more likely to have Dragon Dreams, I think. I'll be King one day, after all."

"I think it's a Dragon Dream," little Dany decided.

Viserys smirked, humoring her, as Ser Willem chuckled. "Your dreams are whatever you wish them to be, Princess Daenerys."

The next time he dreamed of her, she marched up to him and tried to talk.

It was kind of funny—seeing her mouth work and yet hear nothing come out. She frowned, nose scrunched up in a pout, and kept trying.

The girl managed to work herself up into a near-tantrum with frustration, Jon couldn't stop his silent laughter.

Until it wasn't silent.

"—op laughing, you—!"

They stopped and stared at each other, eyes wide. His giggles disappeared. The rumble from the cave sounded curious, but they didn't even look towards it this time.

Slowly, her lips curved into a huge grin. "I talked! I—"

The dream ended.

Jon woke up and frowned at the sudden end to the dream. "Fuck."

He'd heard his father say that word before. He'd tried to be quiet about it, which meant Jon probably wasn't meant to hear it. He'd heard the guards say words like that before, but they clammed up around him and Robb.

Despite his frustration, the child grinned. She had talked. He had laughed.

Maybe next time…

"My name is Jon."

She leaned towards him curiously. "I've never heard a name like that before."

The girl grinned and moved to stand in front of him. "I'm Daenerys."

"Dae—what?"

Dany pouted. "Daenerys."

Jon frowned. "Dane…air-iss?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just call me Dany."

"Dany," he tried. He smiled a little. "I like that. Dany."

Dany grinned. They heard the growl, deeper and deeper as time passed them by, and both children turned to the cave.

The creature's head fully emerged this time. They saw white scales, the same shade as the snow around them, and piercing purple eyes like Dany's. Like Viserys'.

"Is that a dragon?" Dany wondered aloud.

"A dragon?"

"Yeah, a dragon!"

Jon stared at the creature, who only blinked at them.

"A dragon."

The dream ended.

Dany hated it when her Dragon Dreams ended. Viserys told her nowadays that they probably weren't really Dragon Dreams, but she didn't care. She'd call them what she wanted.

"Jon," she whispered in the night, smiling. "Jon and the dragon."

Another year passed.

Dany was crying when Jon found himself in their shared dreams again.

"What's wrong?" Jon asked, panicking. He had no idea how to deal with crying girls!

"Ser Willem died! He's gone!" Dany wailed. She ran to him and he didn't know what to do besides hug her. "The—the servants took all our money! They kicked us out!"

Jon froze, eyes wide. What was he supposed to do? What could he say?

He was just a child. Both of them were.

The dragon's head left the cave and it didn't growl this time. It crooned sorrowfully.

Jon did what little he could to comfort her before he woke up.

That next morning, Jon made his way to his father's office. He managed to avoid Lady Stark's eyes on the short walk there—she didn't like him, and he didn't understand why.

He opened the door and peeked inside. His father was alone, but he looked up when Jon peered around the door, and cocked his head. "Jon, is something wrong?"

"I had a question," he muttered.

Ned smiled at the boy and stood up from his seat, walking around to open the door more widely and let the child into his office. He closed it behind them and crouched in front of Jon, playfully tousling the boy's hair and making him giggle.

"What is it?"

Jon, in all his seven year-old wisdom, got straight to the point. "There's a girl."

Ned raised an eyebrow. This was not a conversation he'd been expecting for some time. "Is there?"

"Her name is Dany," Jon frowned. "Um…Dane-erys. I'm not good at it yet."

He blinked when Ned Stark's face went deathly pale. "Daenerys."

"That's it!"

"You met this girl?"

"I see her in dreams sometimes," he admitted bashfully. "We talk."

Ned took a deep breath and Jon frowned again. Did he say something wrong?

"What do you talk about?"

"Just stuff," he shrugged. "We don't get to talk for long. Maybe the dragon kicks us out."

"Dragon?"

"Dany thinks it's a dragon. It's big. It's white and has purple eyes."

Ned was staring at him as if Jon had grown an extra head.

"What?"

"Have you told anyone else about these…dreams?"

"Nuh-uh," he shook his head. "It's my secret."

"And you think they're real?"

"Maybe. They're strange."

His father pursed his lips for several seconds. "Let's keep your dreams a secret, alright? Just between us."

"And Dany!"

"And Dany, yes. Now, what did you want to ask me about her?"

"Um," Jon fidgeted in place. "She got kicked out of her house. She said servants stole all the money she and her brother had."

"I don't think there's anything we can do, Jon. We don't know where she is now."

He was a little disappointed. "We can't help her?"

"Not right now," Ned murmured. "Perhaps in the future, if we find out where she is. Perhaps then."

Jon nodded. Ned put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Jon, keep these dreams of yours a secret. I mean it. Speak to no one about Dany and the dragon. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Jon repeated.

"Good lad," his father smiled at him, then lightly patted his back. "Now—off with you. You'll be late for your lessons with Robb."

Ned stared out the window of his office, mind numb.

Months had passed since Jon had told him of the strange dreams he'd been having. Of Daenerys Targaryen and the dragon he knew was living beyond the Wall.

He'd received information from King's Landing, which was sent to all the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms, regarding the status of the Targaryen dragonspawn King Robert was trying to hunt down.

The guardian of the now ten-and-four years old Viserys and six year-old Daenerys Targaryen, Ser Willem Derry, had died from an illness. The children's money had been reportedly stolen by servants, and they were now wandering the streets of Braavos as beggars.

Robert was sure the end of the hunt was near.

Ned felt frozen. His nephew's dreams weren't just dreams.

Jon—Aegon—had been sharing dreams with Daenerys for years now. They were connected somehow, them and the dragon. How was that possible? Was it Valyrian magic? What other explanation was there? Was the magic of their forebears so thick in their veins that they could connect to each other from different continents?

He felt a lump rise in his throat. If Jon was right, the dragon beyond the Wall was alive. Years had passed…how big was it now?

He needed to speak with Aemon and Benjen. As well as—

"You asked for me, my Lord?"

Ned jerked out of his thoughts and looked to the door, where his wife stood. Catelyn looked at him curiously; her husband was rarely caught off-guard as such.

He needed to do this. Catelyn didn't like Jon because she thought he was Ned's bastard. He'd decided to keep quiet for so long to make sure word of Jon's status as his illegitimate offspring had spread and died down to an uninteresting topic altogether.

But now—now Westeros had quieted some. Now he could afford to trust someone else with the biggest secret House Stark had ever kept. And hopefully, allow Jon to feel the motherly love he'd never known in his short life.

"Close the door, love," he murmured. She did as he asked and came to sit in front of Ned's desk. He pursed his lips.

"I've kept a secret from you, Cat."

She frowned. "What sort of secret?"

"Jon."

Cat's expression hardened with distaste. "What about the—"

"He's not mine," Ned confessed softly.

She stared at him. "But you claimed him as yours."

"To keep him safe. To keep a promise I made."

Catelyn's eyes were wide now. Ned walked around the desk and knelt before her, taking his wife's hands. "I need you to swear to me with all that you are that you will never speak to another soul of what I'm about to tell you."

She searched his face for some moments, before slowly nodding. "I swear it."

Ned looked down, wondering how to say it. In the end, the Stark honesty did it for him.

"Lyanna didn't die of a fever. She died giving birth."

Silence filled the solar.

He didn't look at her. Cat's voice was weak—he could hear her shock and horror.

"His father…was…"

"He married Lyanna," Ned whispered. Cat made a strangled sound in her throat. "She named the babe Aegon."

"Ned—"

"You promised," he begged her.

"I won't speak of it," Cat reassured him, lifting her hands to his face. She forced him to look at her, and he could see the fear and disbelief in her eyes. "But Ned…that child is the heir to the Iron Throne."

"Aye," Eddard Stark swallowed harshly. "Him and his dragon."

She was speechless. Ned took another much-needed deep breath and told her everything.

It was nostalgic; Ned meeting Benjen, Mormont, and Aemon in the office of the Lord-Commander.

All of them had aged and weathered a fair bit over the past seven years. Aemon was completely blind now. It saddened him that the old Maester—the eldest dragon—would never set eyes on the last hope of his House.

"Have you seen her lately?" Ned asked quietly.

"My last glimpse of her was two months ago," Benjen reported. "Just got a quick look. She blends in well with the snow and takes off whenever I get too close. Her territory is huge. I have no idea how far it stretches, but something that big has to eat a lot."

"How big is she?"

"Bigger than the largest cave bears we have."

"She's growing slowly in the cold," Aemon murmured. "She should be much larger by now."

"That might work out better," Benjen pointed out. "If she gets as huge as you say Balerion the Black Dread did, she'll be too big to hide unless she flies much farther north."

"Hmm," Aemon nodded.

"Keep up your work," Ned told them, dipping his head gratefully. "Aemon, if I could speak to you in confidence?"

They left then for the Maester's residence, with Ned guiding the blind Targaryen back to his chambers.

Once they were settled and comfortable, Ned got to the point.

"Jon has been dreaming of the dragon—and Daenerys Targaryen, who is in Braavos."

"The blood of my House flows strongly in them," Aemon breathed. "Dragon Dreams at their age…"

"He told me Daenerys and Viserys were exiled from the house they were living at when their guardian died. They're living on the streets now. Jon told me this months before any word of such a thing reached Westeros."

Aemon looked saddened by the news that the children were lost and alone on the streets, but they could do nothing. "The magic of Old Valyria might be as powerful in Daenerys as it is in little Jon."

"What does it mean?" Ned pleaded.

"I cannot say. Dragon Dreams are…difficult to understand. Prophetic in nature. Perhaps they're meant to meet one day."

"Robert is convinced he'll have Dany and her brother dead soon."

Aemon's face hardened. "I pray he is wrong."

Ned nodded. For all that Aerys and Rhaegar had wronged his House, his family, he had never desired the deaths of innocent children. But Robert was obsessed with destroying all traces of the dragonspawn.

His reckless hatred for Rhaegar's family had not been sated when he killed the Targaryen Prince.

"I cannot help them now," he told Aemon. "But one day, maybe…maybe Jon will be able to do what I can't. I need to know when you think he should come here to reclaim the dragon."

At ten-and-two years old, Jon had no idea why his father had decided to take him to Castle Black and not Robb. He suspected it was because he was a bastard. Maybe he'd be expected to take the Black, to honor his father.

Lady Stark had told him otherwise, but wouldn't explain everything. She just said he was going to see a member of his family he'd never met. That he would be staying there for some time, and that he would be able to visit Winterfell now and again. But he had to learn important things at Castle Black right now.

Lady Stark was kind. Jon vaguely remembered that she'd been a lot colder when he was only half his current age, but she'd warmed up to him out of nowhere. Hesitant, but more loving than she'd been before.

He certainly wouldn't complain.

He'd never stopped having dreams of Dany and the dragon. Jon had secretly always feared dreaming one night to find one of them missing, or even both.

He knew nothing about where the dragon was, and Dany had been living on the streets with her brother, who was growing ever-more…bitter. Unhinged. Jon didn't want her brother anywhere near her, but he could do nothing.

Braavos was on the other side of the world. If Dany was actually real, he had no way to reach her.

He hoped she was real. She was becoming more and more beautiful as the seasons flew past them. Bright-eyed, small, slender, fair, and perfect. No other girl he'd seen even came close.

Theon had poked fun at him once when he, Jon, and Robb were talking about girls. He'd asked why Jon never seemed interested in them, and the boy had only shrugged.

"They aren't that pretty."

Not like Dany.

Theon had suggested he was more into boys, and they got into a scuffle that Robb joined for the fun of it. Lady Stark had been exasperated to see the three of them in the courtyard, giggling and covered in mud.

It was worth it.

When he arrived at Castle Black, Ned introduced Jon to a few of the men, including the Lord-Commander Mormont, a great bear of a man with a large smile and a gruff voice.

Eventually, he was herded to the Maester's residence.

Jon felt a little uneasy at first, meeting that old man with sightless eyes and white hair. But he quickly realized that the Maester's eyes were…purple. Sightless, but they were the same shade of amethyst as…as…

"Who are you?" Jon asked curiously.

The old man laughed. "My father was Maekar, the First of his Name. My older brother, Aerion, died before his time, and the crown passed to my younger brother Aegon when I refused the throne. Aegon was succeeded by his son, Jaehaerys, and the crown soon passed to his son, Aerys, who they called the Mad King."

Jon felt his blood rush with excitement. "You're a Targaryen?"

"I am Aemon, young man," the Maester chuckled, reaching towards him with friendly hands. Jon guided his own hands to the old man, who held them with a firm grip as they shook. "Lord Stark?"

"I thought it only fair we tell him together," Ned said quietly.

Jon blinked at his father. "Tell me what?"

"Aerys had three children," Aemon told Jon. He walked over to his table and sat down with Jon's help. The boy and his father sat across from him. "The first was Rhaegar, his eldest son. The second was Viserys, his younger son. The third was Daenerys, his only daughter, who is called Daenerys Stormborn for the terrible storm she was born into."

Jon's eyes widened. "Dany's—Dany's real?"

"She is!" Aemon chuckled. "Of Aerys' three children, only Rhaegar became a father before his death. He had a daughter, Rhaenys, and a son, Aegon, who were killed during the Rebellion twelve years ago. His third child, another son, he also named Aegon."

Jon frowned. "He gave his sons the same name? Why?"

"No one can say. Rhaegar is dead, as are both of his wives and two of his children. Only one—the third child, the youngest boy—yet lives."

"What happened to him?"

Aemon's mouth rose into a loving smile. "He sits before me."

Jon stared at him.

"…Me?"

"You dream of Daenerys Targaryen and a dragon," his…father? Ned watched Jon carefully. "It is not coincidence."

"I'm…what?"

"You are Prince Aegon Targaryen," Aemon murmured. "Sixth of his Name."

Jon looked up at Ned, eyes wide. "But I thought—"

Ned held a hand up, and his eyes were a little misty. Jon had never seen his father look so sad. "Your mother was my sister, Jon. Lyanna Stark. I promised her I would protect you. That I would keep you safe. I had to hide what you truly were. If someone found out the truth of you, Robert would have hunted you down and destroyed you."

Jon paled and swallowed, his nearly black eyes large. "Then...you're my uncle?"

"I am," Ned smiled. "And I could not be more proud of you. You're so much like your mother. I never knew Rhaegar personally, but you took after Lyanna more than I thought was possible."

The boy looked back at Aemon. "We're family?"

"We are, my boy," Aemon reached for his hands blindly, and Jon—Aegon—took them and squeezed with the ancient Targaryen. "You and I. Daenerys and Viserys. We are the last Targaryens in the world.

"And you are the last Targaryen Prince bound to a dragon."

Jon grew still. "The white dragon I keep dreaming about with Dany? That's real too?"

"She was born with you," Ned told him. "As Lyanna gave birth to you, the dragon egg hatched in the flames of the fireplace near her. It was…Old Valyrian magic. I don't understand fully what happened back then. But the dragon bonded herself to you."

"Where is she?"

"Beyond the Wall. She could not stay here—it was not safe. Lyanna made me promise to keep you and your dragon protected. She said you would need the dragon one day. We've done the best we could for her, and so far she has survived."

Jon was quiet for a few minutes. "What am I supposed to do with her?"

"That is…really up to you. You cannot bring her back to Winterfell. Perhaps you can stay here at times to go out and meet her, but it is a dangerous road to reach her home. If you wish it, you could learn to ride her. But if you'd rather not, you could attempt to sever your bond with her and send her away. As I said, it's up to you."

The boy frowned. "I think I need to meet her first."

The older men let him think for a while longer. "What about Dany?"

Ned sighed. "Daenerys is…far away. We have no means to help her situation, wherever she is, but I understand that her and Viserys have recently taking up residence in Pentos. For now, at least, they aren't living on the streets anymore."

"Are they safe?"

"For now."

"But the King is hunting them."

Ned studied his nephew carefully. "You can't help them right now."

Jon pursed his lips. "If I trained the dragon…could I find a way?"

"That depends," Aemon piped up. "What do you envision to happen when you find Daenerys and Viserys? What will you do afterwards?"

"I would…find somewhere safe for them to live?"

"And you? If word travels of your true nature, King Robert will hunt you as well."

"I'll find a place for all of us to live, then."

"Would you try to reclaim the Iron Throne?"

Jon frowned. "I don't want to fight a war. I don't really want to be King, either."

"Viserys reportedly thinks he should be King. He will do anything to re-establish his family's place in King's Landing."

"Well…well, stuff that, then."

Ned snorted. Aemon chuckled.

"There are no easy decisions yet," Ned patted Jon's shoulder. "But for now…for now, I think it's time you met the dragon that hatched with you. For you."

"And then we can think about how to help Dany?"

"Hah! It's always about the girls, isn't it?" Aemon laughed.

Jon blushed and Ned tousled his hair, making the boy scowl a little.

"Perhaps we can think about how to help Daenerys, yes."

Dany found herself in the frozen woods again and spotted Jon, grinning at the sight of the solemn-faced boy. She ran over and hugged him, as had become something of a custom between them since they only dreamed of each other infrequently.

"Missed you," she breathed.

"Missed you, too," Jon's voice was muffled in her shoulder.

They released each other and Jon looked towards the cave. The dragon had yet to emerge, but they could hear it shifting.

"I'm going to meet her soon," Jon said.

Dany blinked. "Who? The dragon?"

"Yes. My father—sorry, uncle Ned told me about her earlier today," his smile was huge. "Dany—Dany, I'm not a bastard. I'm like you."

"What do you mean?"

"My real name," he licked his lips nervously. "Is Aegon Targaryen."

Dany's violet eyes grew large. "You're Rhaegar's son?"

"Aye. Uncle Ned hid me away after Robert's Rebellion, I guess. He named me his bastard so no one would suspect anything."

She didn't even think on the fact that he was calling Eddard Stark "uncle" and just absorbed the fact that she and Viserys weren't alone, that—that they had family still alive in the world. It brought her to tears.

Jon panicked when she cried. "What? What's wrong? Are you unhappy?"

"No," Dany hugged him again, more tightly and fiercely. "I'm very happy. Happier than you can imagine."

Jon—Aegon—held her there until the dragon rumbled, and they both looked up.

The white dragon's head and neck had fully emerged from the cave, piercing eyes fixed on them. Jon let Dany go and walked closer to it. The creature watched him curiously.

"I'm coming to see you soon," he whispered. "Very soon."

Amethyst eyes gleamed. The dragon snorted.

The dream came to an end.

Dany woke with tears in her eyes and a huge smile on her face.

Jon, she thought joyfully. Aegon.

She would not tell Viserys. He had long-since grown tired of hearing of her "Dragon Dreams" and dismissed them as foolishness on her part.

Jon had taught her some new words to call Viserys that made her laugh, even if she never called her brother by them out loud.

Vulgarity was fun.

Dany could see the light of morning peeking over the city, but she curled in her bed beneath the sheets and snuggled into her pillow, closing her eyes and hoping to dream a little more of the dark-haired Targaryen boy and the white dragon.

Jon thought he knew what cold was. He had no idea.

Uncle Benjen was leading him through the wilderness beyond the Wall. They had a long path they had to take, slightly to the west and farther north. The dragon was at least a week's travel away from Castle Black, if she wasn't hunting abroad at the moment. That would complicate things.

Not even the Wildlings strayed close to her territory, Uncle Benjen had said. For all the conflict the Night's Watch had with their northern neighbors, all of them—save Benjen, in secret of course—stayed away from the territory of a beast that slaughtered all intruders.

Benjen had found evidence of a few such incidents. They'd left him pale and shaking.

The dragon was not a gentle creature. How could she be, growing up in one of the most hostile places known to man?

"Remind me again why we're taking this…boy into the wild?"

Jon frowned at their other companion.

Ser Alliser Thorne, a Knight of the Night's Watch, had been sent by Lord-Commander Mormont to escort them to the dragon. Though Thorne had no idea what they were doing, he'd been given no choice but to go with them.

He wasn't a kind man from what Jon had seen. He was hard and bitter and cold.

He was also a Targaryen Loyalist.

Mormont had said as much. "Thorne is a harsh man, and he's been a pain in my ass for years now. But he's lived a hard life. When the Targaryens fell to Robert's Rebellion, he was given a choice by Tywin Lannister: take the Black, or face execution.

"If he sees you for what you are, and sees that House Targaryen isn't as dead as he thought, I can think of no other man who would be better suited to guard your journey. For all of his rudeness, Thorne is a skilled fighter."

Jon didn't like him, but he knew that Thorne had an old, deep wound from losing to the rebels more than a decade ago. The fall of House Targaryen had apparently dealt a lot of damage to his own House.

Had he seen his family at all since then? Jon doubted it.

The Night's Watch was a lifetime commitment, after all.

Uncle Benjen glanced at Thorne. "We're escorting the boy to…an old friend. It's well away from Wildling territory. We should be safe enough."

"There's no such thing as safe out here, you dumb cunt," Thorne snapped.

There was a new word for Jon.

"Watch your mouth around the kid, you—"

It seemed he would be getting lessons in vulgarity today.

They came upon the cave as the light fell.

Jon grew excited the moment he saw the gaping mouth of the mountain and for a moment, he half-expected to see Dany in one of her dresses, barefoot and uncaring of the cold.

But the wind was freezing worse than he'd ever felt before, and Dany was not here with her sweet smiles and gleaming eyes.

Thorne looked downright murderous. "You want us to stay in there? What, so a bear can maul us?"

Jon leapt down from his horse and strode towards the cave. Thorne swore and dismounted, storming after him. "Stop, you stupid little—"

A deep growl echoed from the cave, and shook the air. Thorne froze. Benjen froze. The horses whinnied nervously.

Jon kept going, and stopped only a few meters away from the cave itself.

He stared into the darkness.

Thud.

"What the fuck," Thorne breathed. "What the fuck did you bring us to, Stark?"

Benjen didn't answer.

Thud.

Jon saw the gleaming amethysts high above him, approaching from the depths of the cave. They shifted from side to side, as weight was transferred from one foot to the other. He heard a loud puff of air from large nostrils, the sound of sharp claws clicking against frozen stone.

Thud.

He saw her.

The white dragon from his dreams loomed out of the shadows, her every breath exhaling steam. She rumbled deeply as she stepped forth on the talons of her wing-joints, and her back feet seemed to shake the ground with every heavy impact. She towered over him; staring down at Jon from twenty feet up.

The dragon stopped before him and observed in silence for a few seconds.

Then she reared up on her back legs, came down with a shuddering impact, and bellowed in his face.

Her teeth flashed like swords in the night and her titanic roar nearly deafened Jon. He fought the urge to cover his ears and hide from the massive noise, which silenced the forest's creatures for miles and miles.

When she stopped, she closed her great jaws and observed him again.

He knew her. He had always known her. He was not afraid.

Her eyes gleamed with something like approval.

Jon took off one of his gloves and lifted his hand towards the dragon. She lowered her snout, still watching him sharply. There was a moment where she waited, then pressed her nose to his hand.

She was warm. In this bitterly cold place, Jon didn't know something could be as warm as she was. The dragon crooned, a low sound as she twisted her head to meet his gaze with one of her huge, purple eyes.

"I missed you," he whispered, lips rising into a large smile. The dragon only blinked in response.

Her gaze went past him and observed the men behind Jon. He turned to look at them, still keeping his hand on the dragon.

Benjen was pale even in the darkness, holding onto the horses' reigns to keep them from bolting at the sight of the huge predator. Ser Alliser Thorne stared at Jon and the dragon, and put the pieces together.

There was only one group of people in Westeros—one House—who had ever tamed dragons.

And as he looked upon that great white dragon and the small, dark-haired child, the dishonored Knight fell to his knees and bowed his head.

"Your Grace."