Jon POV
So this was it then. The last of men would die here today and he would lead them to their end just as he had led every man and woman who had become meat for the army of the dead. If the God's truly did exist, then they were cruel beyond any doubt. Once upon a time, he was a firm believer in the Old God's and had faith that they would provide them with salvation. With each passing day his faith was tested and with every death, his belief would waver but he stood firm.
He watched his fierce sister Arya be ripped to shreds by a horde of wights and give her life for their cause. Sansa, sweet and broken Sansa was killed trying to help evacuate the children, she never saw it coming. Bran or whatever was left of his little brother was taken from him too, the three eyed raven as he called himself intended to use whatever powers he had to reverse the flow of time but before he could, the night king himself appeared with his generals to stop him. Theon tried his best to buy him time for escape, but it was futile for the night king was smarter than he let on and had the Godswood completely surrounded. All of House Stark was taken from him, but he stood firm.
That was until the God's deemed it fit to take her from him. His aunt and love, his Dany. She was the reason he was able to stand strong after each loss, the reason he was able to shoulder the burden of leading the realms of men. She was the reason he could feel again after being resurrected on his funeral pyre, if it was not for her he would have remained a shell of a man. The moment he had laid eyes upon her, he felt as though a fire was lit within him and it became clear why that was so when he learnt that he was not Jon Snow, but rather Aemon Targaryen, trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.
How he raged at first, not believing it to be true, that Ned Stark, the most honourable man to live could lie to him his whole life. That was until he had seen the letters, from both his mother and true father explaining everything from the true events at the tourney of Harrenhal to the reason they ran away together. The shock of learning that Princess Elia knew and had encouraged them to be together as she feared she would not survive much longer due to the numerous trauma her body had suffered from the struggle of birthing his siblings to basically being kept as a glorified hostage in the capital by Aerys to keep both Rhaegar and the Dornish in line.
She hoped that Lyanna would be a mother to Aegon and Rhaenys if she was to leave the world of the living, much preferring a she-wolf as Rhaegar's queen than the rotten lioness that was Tywin's daughter. Elia knew that the Lannister's would do whatever it took to have their blood ascend the throne, even if it meant over the corpses of her children. Oh how right she was.
The letter from his mother and father told him of how loved he was and that they were sorry should they not live to see him grow. Knowing that he was loved and wanted was all he had ever wished for as a young boy. They had left behind his mother's wedding cloak and his father's harp, but the most precious gift that was left behind was the blanket his mother had stitched for him. It was nowhere near as good as Sansa's stitching, but it was a gift that Jon cherished more than anything.
Howland Reed had confessed the truth when he had come to Winterfell, having been the only survivor apart from his uncle that returned from the clash outside the tower of joy. He had shown where Ned Stark had hidden the chest left behind for him by his parents in his mother's crypt. The Crannogman had been sworn to a vow of secrecy to never reveal the truth and he had done so because his uncle had sworn to tell Jon himself when he grew older. It became clear to him then why Ned Stark wished for him to join the wall and it was simply so he could never press his claim for the Iron throne.
Jon wished to believe it was to keep him safe, but the letter his uncle had written for him and kept safe in his solar was damning to say the least. The man was a coward, he had never intended on telling Jon in person but through some ink on a sheet of parchment. He explained his choices and that he regretted sending him to the wall but he had no desire to throw the realm into war and that he could not fight against his brother by choice, Robert Baratheon. He believed that Lyanna and Rhaegar were selfish and had cost him so much in life, that it was better for the realm that the Baratheon line had ascended the throne. Jon felt broken inside having finally accepted that his whole life was a lie, that his mother was not some whore or tavern wench. She was high born and she was buried in the crypts this entire time and Ned Stark never told him.
The man he had tried his hardest to emulate his whole life cared less for him than his friend who would have happily seen him dead. He recalled that the fat stag had also laughed at the mutilated corpses of his brother and sister, yet his uncle still maintained his blind loyalty to him. From that moment on he had declared that Eddard Stark was no father of his, that he was barely any kin at this point. If it was not for his cousins by blood, but siblings in every other way he would have desecrated the man's crypt without remorse. Betrayal, that was all he could feel, his entire life he believed that the reason for the man's distance was because of the shame he felt at siring a bastard, but it was because he was the son of Rhaegar.
Day and night he would cry by his mother's statue, begging forgiveness for never coming to see her and telling her that he loved her too. Only Daenerys had managed to break him out of his wallowing, his fierce dragon queen called him "blood of my blood" and thus helped him to learn what it took to be a dragon rather than a bastard wolf. She did not care that he had a better claim to the throne than her or that he had claimed Rhaegal as his mount, Dany was just glad to not be alone any longer.
"A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing."
The words of maester Aemon sang true and he wished the wise man knew that he had more kin in the world before his time in this life was done. It was an honour to be named after such a great man and knowing that Aemon was kin was a key factor in him fully accepting his heritage. He may have wished his whole life to be a Stark more than anything, but the truth was that he was the blood of both Targaryen and Stark.
"Your Grace, they are here."
"Get everyone ready… this ends here."
"Yes Your Grace."
There was only a few thousand men left on the side of the living. Their numbers decimated with each battle against army of the dead. The only respite the living had was that the dead no longer had Viserion doing their bidding. His brave Dany had taken out her own her son atop Drogon, losing her life in the process with Drogon succumbing to his injuries. Like the true dragon Dany was, she begged him to have Rhaegal burn her and Drogon, for she was of the fire and so that he could not raise them up like Viserion. Jon tearfully agreed with her final wish. She died in his arms with his true name on her lips as her eyes lost the light of life.
"Dracarys" he had managed to croak out as Rhaegal dutifully obeyed.
The emerald dragon was hurting just like him, he could feel his despair at losing both his brothers and his mother. Their bond allowed them to feel the other's rage as he unleashed a torrent of flames upon them, encasing them in never ending fire. They did not have time to mourn their loss as the dead marched towards them, forcing Jon to mount him and they proceeded to scorch as much of the enemy as they could allowing the men to retreat.
Both he and Rhaegal went on a rampage henceforth, decimating the dead every opportunity they were given and for a fleeting moment he thought they could mayhaps win against all odds. That was until the night king had revealed his true cunning nature by revealing the full extent of his might. He had kept most of his army hidden to deceive them until they were pushed towards Moat Cailin, the numbers he truly had dwarfed the army he had shown at both Hardhome and Winterfell. No matter how many wights Rhaegal burnt they were replaced almost immediately.
Continuously they were pushed back until they had to retreat south of the neck and yet Cersei did not send any reinforcements, the golden company only deserting her to join them when the storms created by the night king had hit the capital and the days had become shrouded by night. The sellsword company had thirty thousand men in their ranks yet they too made no difference as the dead vastly outnumbered them. Jon wondered many times why the night king allowed them to retreat after every battle and realisation dawned on upon him that the night king was merely toying with them, their futile attempts at repelling the dead was some twisted form of entertainment for him.
He did not know how long they had been fighting for at this point, it could have been months or even a year, the endless darkness removing any sense of time. The rest of Westeros sent every man and woman able to wield a weapon, yet once again it was too little too late. He let out a feral growl at the thought of the Lords who had arrived so late, if they had only got off their backsides earlier to support their fellow man then mayhaps they would have stood a chance.
Jon watched as the last of men rallied for what would most likely be their final battle, not an ounce of fear to be seen on their faces. Pride filled him to the core, he was proud to be their king and he would be honoured to die fighting by their side should this truly be the end. He would not be flying atop Rhaegal as his mount was too weak to fly due to the lack of food and the barrage of ice spears he had been hit with, but he was still as fierce as only a dragon could be and would provide support from the ground.
The plan was simple and it was to take down as many wights as possible until you met your own end. They were simply too overwhelmed in every possible way to come up with a tangible plan of action, many had suggested fleeing Westeros but that plan was discarded as they watched the night king freeze over any body of water he came across. Horror filled Jon knowing that even the people of Essos would soon face his wrath and there was nothing they could do to stop him in the slightest.
"To me men, to me!" he shouted.
Ghost, the loyal direwolf trotted to his side as the men ranked up in front of him. He felt some ease going into the battle knowing that soon all of the fighting and struggle would be at an end. Mayhaps the God's would finally show him some kindness and allow him to reunite with those that loved him rather than damning his soul in the seven hells for his countless failures. Taking a deep breath, he began to address his loyal soldiers as the few lit torches flickered, giving them some semblance of light.
"You all know I am not one for speaking flowery words and considering we are going to die in the next hour or so, I am not going to start now. I just want you all to know it has been an honour fighting by the side of each and every single one of you. This will be our final battle, but we will not go quietly into the night for we are the shield that guards the realm of men. Before you die I want each of you to kill as many of the fuckers as you can. Let us give them a fight they will remember for the rest of eternity."
At that they let out a mighty roar in unison and as one they began to chant the words of the nights watch. The familiar shaking of the ground let them know that it was time and that death would soon be upon them. Jon dropped to his knees and gave Ghost a final scratch behind the ear as Rhaegal managed to awkwardly clamber to the front of the lines, he lowered his head as Jon patted the snout of the last dragon.
"This is it boy, we'll be reunited with your mother and brother's soon."
Rhaegal let out a small purr and Jon felt sadness as the blistering heat his dragon usually emitted was almost snuffed out. He rose from his position and faced the enemy with a solemn look, unsheathing longclaw in one smooth motion. The wights stood in ranks of their own leaving him confused as to why they would do such a thing when their strategy from the beginning was mindlessly swarming them at every opportunity. His question was answered when they split from the middle, leaving an opening for the night king and his generals to emerge.
He felt his temper flare at the sight of the icy demon and it seemed Rhaegal was of the same mind as he let out a roar at the sight of the cunt who had taken his family. Ghost was as silent as ever, but snarled at the enemy. There was complete silence for a few seconds before Jon let out a war cry and led the final charge to a glorious death. Both Ghost and Rhaegal crashed into the enemy first as they ripped as many of the wights to shreds as they could before being completely overwhelmed. He himself made his way for the night king, but the retaliating onslaught of the wights stopped him from getting even close.
There was a thunderous crash as the two sides met in the middle of the battlefield. Jon felt himself be thrown to the floor due to the sheer number of them charging at once. He did not know how many of the cunts he had killed as he slowly felt himself suffocate as the monster's continued their charge. Jon tried his hardest to get up, but there was simply too many of them and he was trapped at the bottom. Jon let out a guttural scream as he felt his ribs crack from the immense pressure and then he felt a cold hand wrap around his neck. He could not breathe as the hand tightly squeezed until his throat was ripped out and then he knew no more.
There was nothing, absolutely nothing. Once more he was in a dark abyss. Completely alone after death again. Truly the God's were cruel, either that or they did not exist. He felt as though he was floating with no sense of anything, like he was without limbs. The last Targaryen wanted to scream out yet nothing came out his mouth. Do I even have a mouth?
"Cruel are we Jon Snow?"
"Or should we say Aemon Targaryen?"
"We have heard your prayers and seen your failures."
"You wish to rest, to finally be at peace yet how can you think of such a thing after failing so miserably?"
"You did not complete your destiny as we hoped, but we are ever merciful."
"You shall go back and change history."
"You shall keep the dragons alive so that humanity has a chance against the great other."
"Should you fail again, there will not be a third chance."
"We shall aid you in this endeavour with some gifts."
"As you grow up, our gifts to you shall reveal themselves."
"Never doubt our benevolence again Jon Snow."
"Fail us again and we shall show you our true wrath Aemon Targaryen."
Before Jon could even comprehend what just happened, a glaring light emerged as he felt himself being drawn towards it. The voice had been replaced by others and then he could feel his limbs, but he had no control over them.
"Push Princess, You need to push" came a strained voice followed by a woman's screams of pain.
"Come on Lya, Push my love" said an unknown man with worry in his voice.
"Almost there Princess, I can see the head."
"AARRRGHHH!"
Jon felt a pair of hands grab him as the light completely enveloped him. He closed his eyes as it became a searing pain, forcing him to scream until his throat was greatly throbbing and then it just stopped. There was a lot of noise around him and he was scared to even make a sound lest he draw attention from the unknown. Cautiously he opened his eyes to get a feel for his surroundings, but all he could do was stare up at some intricately designed ceiling.
"Congratulations Your Graces, it is a boy."
"Give him to me" came the voice of the woman.
Jon felt himself being moved without any choice as he was placed into the arms of the unknown woman. However, the moment he looked into those steely grey eyes full of love he felt nothing but safe and secure. She held him with tender care against her chest as she cooed at him, making him smile on reflex. Mother?
"Isn't our son just beautiful Daemon?"
"He really is Lya, our little Dragonwolf" said the unknown man.
Jon peered at him and noticed his Valyrian features. He was still confused at what was happening after dying. Had he been reborn? His mother was a Stark obviously and if he was correct in assuming the man was his father then he was obviously a Targaryen due to his colouring, but he did not remember any such pairing of a woman called Lya and a man called Daemon from either of the respective families.
"What do you wish to name him my love?" asked his mother.
"He shall be named Aemon for my late uncle… Prince Aemon of the house Targaryen. Our precious Dragonwolf."
"Aemon… a fitting name for our princely babe. Oh I love him so much already" she gushed and if he could speak, he would have told her the same, but he had to settle for snuggling in her arms for now.
"maester, I wish for you to inform the king and my father that our family has been blessed with a son, a true dragon."
"Of course My Prince."
The maester bowed hastily before leaving the room as his mother passed him to his father to hold. The man looked at him the way his mother did, with unconditional love. Slowly he rocked him back and forth as Jon graced him with a toothless grin, which made his father's face light up in joy.
"You my son are destined for great things, I can just feel it. You truly are a gift from the God's."
? POV
Unbeknownst to them, a wild dragon had opened his eyes with glee that a worthy rider for him had finally been born. The dragon let out a roar, frightening any and all who were within earshot as he rose from the floor and made his way out the cave where he had made his lair. Leaping into the air, the dragon flapped his powerful wings as he took to the sky, he could feel the powerful magic his rider possessed through their newly burgeoning connection. Soon they would be together and the world will tremble before them.
Authors Note
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, if you wish to read ahead go to my pa tr eon: dragonkingsh
