The day before his wedding, Theon was invited to Lord Stark's solar. There, awaited him was Lord Stark and Jon, or Aegon, Theon was still unsure of what to call him as they had spent little time together in private since Theon was told of Jon's true identity. They'd spoken, with announcements of Theon being put in charge of ships, but little else. Theon wanted to remedy that, but he no longer knew how to approach Jon.

He was no longer the sullen boy Theon remembered. Instead, he'd been replaced by a confident man, every inch a King, and if truth be told, he was quite intimidating. This was especially true now: Jon had a direwolf and a dragon.

The solar was warm and inviting. A roaring fire burned in the hearth. Jon was already seated, a tankard of ale in his hands. Lord Stark had one and poured another for Theon.

"Please sit," Lord Stark said, as he sat on the seat next to Jon and opposite Lord Stark. Despite Jon being the higher-ranking nobleman, he still sat in deference to his uncle.

"Lord Stark, your grace," Theon bowed his head.

Jon sighed. "Theon, none of that in here. Outside, yes, in private, I am still just Jon."

Theon nodded. "Alright. Just in public."

"I suppose you are wondering why you are here," Lord Stark, said.

"Is it related to my wedding?" Theon asked.

"Not entirely," Jon replied. "Although we'll discuss it later."

Ahem," Lord Stark made it clear he wished to speak. "As you are aware, there is to be a Kingsmoot."

Theon nodded. "I expect Euron to challenge my sister."

"And Victarion," Jon added. "Asha is not safe. She needs to get away from the Iron Islands."

"You know this for certain?" Theon asked, Jon nodded. "And go where? She is a seafaring woman?"

"She is welcome to stay in Winterfell," Lord Stark offered.

Theon shook his head. "She wouldn't be able to stay on land for long. It is not in her nature."

"We are building a fleet and need every capable hand. It is of little use having ships without those qualified to sail them," Jon suggested. "The Ironborn are the best seafaring fighters in all of Westeros. Between you, you could teach us landlocked folk a thing or two."

Theon knew they spoke the truth. Euron was dangerous, and Victarion was one who loved war. He doubted Victarion would follow Euron, for he knew they had come to blows. About what, he could not say. Should Euron win and Victarion followed, Asha would be in danger. Theon would do anything he could to save her.

"What do you want me to do?" Theon asked.

Lord Stark opened one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out some parchment. He pushed the ink and quill towards Theon and handed him the paper.

"You need to write to her. Offer her the hand of friendship. Invite her to Winterfell. Tell her of your marriage. Warn her about Euron and of the danger he poses to her," Jon said.

Theon nodded his head, picked up the quill.

Asha

Word of the Kingsmoot has reached me. I hear Uncle Euron killed your father.

I have no interest in the Seastone Chair. My duties and life lie elsewhere, as I believe does yours. You have my support, but I fear it is not enough. Despite the loyalty of your men, I can assure you dear sister, they will prefer a man to lead them.

If they will not accept you, then I expect the Kingsmoot to be between Victarion and Euron. Uncle Euron will win the Seastone Chair as he can promise Ironborn more than you or Victarion. If my theory is correct, war will soon be declared and you will no longer be safe.

Word will soon get out of a dragon prince returned. I know this to be true as I know him personally. If Euron wins the Kingsmoot, you and your followers will be offered refuge should you need it. He has assured me he will offer you safety, and eventually the chance to exact revenge on him.

The dragon prince has plans which I am certain you will find of great interest.

I hope you will consider the offer.

Just one more thing. By the time you receive this letter, I will be a married man. Her name is Ygritte, and she is one of the Free Folk (wildlings) and is as fierce as they come. I believe you would both get along famously.

Theon

He handed the letter to Jon, who read it, and then to Lord Stark who did the same. Lord Stark pulled a stamp from his drawer, which he handed to Jon. Jon rolled up the parchment, melted some wax and placed the stamped it with what looked like a three-headed dragon, the Targaryen sigil.

"Do you think it wise to let them know who it came from?" Theon asked.

"By the time of the Kingsmoot, everyone in the Seven Kingdoms will know who I am. Now that Blizzard is hatched, there is no point in me hiding my identity."

"I'll take that up to Maester Luwin," Lord Stark said, taking the letter from Jon, and leaving them alone.

"Your wedding," Jon smirked.

"I don't want a bedding ceremony. It is a little late for that," Theon laughed.

"Fear not, I would quite like to father children. If anyone touched Ygritte, she'd geld them," Jon joined in with the laughter.

"I've missed this," Theon frowned. "Everything has been so… serious."

"Aye, that it has," Jon agreed. "Which is why Robb, Tormund, and I, are taking you to the smoking log tonight. A proper piss up."

"Why Tormund?" Theon asked.

"Because he agreed to watch over you for Ygritte."

"Oh," Theon wasn't sure whether he liked the idea of being spied on.

"Don't worry. He is great fun on a night out. Wait until you hear his tall stories," Jon grinned.

"What about Ygritte?" Theon asked.

"Sansa and Gilly will take good care of her," Jon smiled. "One more thing. Blizzard is in the Godswood, next to the heart tree. He might want to watch the ceremony, because right now, he is curious of humans. That will disappear when he sees strangers as food."

"You think he will kill those he doesn't know?" Theon gulped.

"Not yet," Jon replied. "But he is growing fast. He won't be a cute little dragon forever. Over a foot since he hatched. At this rate, he'll be nigh on twenty-five feet long within a moon's turn. I expect him to be breathing fire and flying around that time."

"What do you want from me?" Theon asked, now worried about the safety of Asha and Ygritte.

"I want you to know him. While he is still young, those who take it in turns to look after him will have no reason to fear him, unless I am betrayed," Jon said, Theon gulped. "I'd like you to spend a couple of hours with him today. Allow him to know you. Should you be attacked while he is nearby and I am not riding him, he will protect you, Ygritte and Asha. I will make sure of it. Ygritte will also need to spend time with him."

The thought of being protected by a dragon, even without a rider, sent a chill down Theon's spine. He wasn't sure whether he would ever be able to trust the winged beast. Jon must have noticed his trepidation, for he smiled.

"Come, let us do it now. Get it out of the way. I'm sure you will feel different when you have spent time alone with him." Jon stood, and Theon followed.

Before they left, Theon turned to Jon. "Jon, I've missed you," he said.

"I've missed being a friend to you," he smiled, and pulled Theon into a hug. "To those who are close to me, I will always be Jon. I consider you to be one of those people," Jon pulled back. "My actual brother, Aegon, died before I was born. Even so, I still ended up with four brothers. I include you, because, even though we didn't get along as children, that is normal for brothers. We are grown men, married and ready to do our duty for the realm."

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Theon and Jon made their way to the Godswood. As an Ironborn, Theon should worship the drowned god. But he had been away from Pyke for so long, he had spent most of his life around people who followed the old gods. Theon hadn't turned his back on the drowned gods, nor had he taken up the religion of the old gods, but there was a something peaceful about the place.

They trudged through the fresh, early autumn snow. The sound of crunching followed each step they made as they walked, leaving footprints behind them. After a couple of minutes, Jon and Theon were almost at the clearing where the great weirwood stood. The red leaves contrasted with the white surroundings. If it weren't for the face carved into it, the tree would be a thing of beauty.

Underneath the tree, Theon spotted Lady lying alone in the snow. Theon wondered why Blizzard had left her. That was until they closed the distance. Ghost and Blizzard raised their heads, their red eyes standing out against the wintery background, just like the leaves of the weirwood. It couldn't be coincidence Ghost and Blizzard had the same colouring as the heart tree. Mayhap there was some truth to be said about the old gods, after all.

Theon approached the dragon with some trepidation. No matter how much Jon reassured him, this beast would one day see Theon as food if he ever betrayed Jon. Not that Theon would betray him, but it was an incentive.

Theon wasn't as stupid as most people thought. Jon's earlier offer of protection was a veiled threat. He understood why. In Jon's previous life, Theon had betrayed Robb, which had led to the death of Rickon and many beloved people in Winterfell, including Maester Luwin. He ended up tortured by that madman, Ramsay Bolton. Theon wasn't stupid enough to make the mistake of betraying a Stark, or in Jon's case, a Targaryen.

Once they got close, Theon could tell both Ghost and Lady were wagging their tails, which was no surprise. What did shock Theon was Blizzard also wagging his rather large tail.

Theon leaned into Jon, not wanting the dragon to hear. "I'm not so sure of him wagging his tail when he sees you in a couple of moons will be an idea."

Jon frowned and nodded his head. "I'll let him while he's here, but once he's back from Valyria, he'll have to cut it out."

"He'll be flying to Valyria?" Theon asked.

"Only for a few days. He'll be gone a little over a moon's turn. Here in the Godswood, the old gods are giving him strength to grow. But he is still a dragon, the blood of old Valyria. The magic of their creation still dwells there. It will strengthen our bond. However, we must ensure the Dragonmont on Dragonstone is ready for him."

Why?" Theon asked.

"Dragons are territorial and prefer mountain tops and volcanic mountains, like the Dragonmont. Despite Blizzard being born in the North, he will grow to hate the cold. They can fly hundreds of miles in a day, and Old Valyria calls to him because he has been raised in the cold North. He needs the fourteen flames for his fire to burn hotter than any other dragon," Jon explained.

Blizzard, Ghost, and Lady all sidled up to Jon, greeting him with enthusiasm. He stroked them all while Theon watched with a smile on his face. Blizzard surprised him with a strange noise, similar to cat purring. The dragon loved Jon, of that there was no doubt.

"Blizzard, why don't you say hello to Theon?" Jon asked.

The dragon turned his attention to Theon, looked him up and down, then waddled through the snow, his body melting the snow in his wake. Blizzard rested his head against Theon's chest and stared him in the eyes.

"He wants you to stroke his neck," Jon explained.

Theon stroked the long neck of the white dragon, which purred at the sensation. He was surprised by how warm the creature was. Not only that, but a sudden sense of serenity washed over him, which he suspected came from the dragon.

"Do you think you'll be alright if I leave you a couple of hours?" Jon asked. "You won't be cold with these three."

"What do I do?" Theon asked.

"Tell them stories. About Ygritte, the Ironborn, anything. Blizzard loves it."

Theon was sceptical, but he knew of a few to entertain the dragon. "I'll be alright," he smiled as he sat on the stump next to the tree. Soon, he had a warm dragon curled around him and two direwolves snuggled up to him. Any thought of being cold disappeared, for he was already hot.

As Jon walked away, Theon began his story. "Once upon a time, during the age if heroes, was an Ironborn King known as the Grey King….."

⸺⸺⸺◊◊◊⸺⸺⸺

That afternoon, Theon had spent two hours with the dragon and wolves. The first half hour he told them the story of the Grey King. After that, he was so comfortable and serene, that he fell asleep. He reckoned the dragon would be an amazing nurse for a crying babe.

That evening, he, Jon, Robb, and the ginger-haired Wildling, Tormund, ventured to Winter Town to visit the Smoking Log. The purpose the evening was to get Theon drunk. He expected there to be guards, what with Jon being out among the people, but Winter Town was still sparsely populated. But come winter, thousands would have migrated, living in tents to be close to the castle, therefore they hadn't bothered.

The evening had gone as planned. Theon got to know Tormund, who told him tales of suckling at the teet of a giantess, fucking a bear called Sheila, and his many escapades with women. All of which Jon called bullshit.

The night was winding down; they were down to their last tankard of ale, when Tormund asked a question which sent them all into hysterical laughter.

"What is the Lord's kiss?" he asked.

Theon, Jon and Robb all snorted into their drinks. Jon so much so that he started coughing so much, Robb had to thump him on the back.

"Are you saying you've never done it?" Theon asked. It was a genuine question. Ygritte had commented he was the first one to do it to her.

"How can I know if I've done it, if I don't know what it is? It might be called something else North of the wall."

"It's when you make a woman peak with your mouth," Robb explained.

Tormund turned to Jon. "Do you do that with your Queen?"

"Don't answer that, Jon!" Robb stated. "That's my sister."

Theon noticed Jon give Tormund a tiny nod while Robb was sipping on his ale. Tormund grinned. "What about you, kraken? Have you done it with Ygritte?"

"She'd chop my cock off if I didn't," Theon laughed. Tormund and Robb joined in, but Jon paled at those words. Theon hearing what had happened to him in Jon's other life was odd. To Jon, Arya, and Sansa, the events were real. But to Theon, the person who had betrayed Robb, was someone else. He wouldn't get his cock chopped off, so why not joke about it?

Robb interrupted Theon's train of thought and brought Jon back into reality. "So you've never done it?"

Tormund shook his head. "Too fucking cold up North. What's it like?"

"Tastes better than this ale," Jon laughed, earning him a murderous stare from Robb, which Jon ignored.

"I'd like to try it." Tormund stated.

"Robb, why don't you take Tormund here to the whorehouse and let him have a taste?" Jon suggested. "Theon and I are taken and have no need for a whore or milkmaid to warm our beds."

"What do I pay with?" Tormund asked.

"Don't worry," Robb put his arm around Tormund's shoulders. "It's on me. If you ever want to bed a woman south of the wall, it is an essential skill."

The four of them stood, readying themselves to leave. As he swayed on his feet, Theon was glad he wasn't heading to the whorehouse. He was far too drunk for anything like that. He didn't know how Robb would manage it. However, Tormund seemed to be able to consume endless amounts of ale without getting drunk.

Robb pulled Tormund to the door. "Let's teach you some fucking manners," he grinned and Tormund laughed loudly.

"You go home to your wives, while we indulge in whores," he cried out as Tormund and Robb left the tavern.

"Is he always like that?" Theon asked, as Jon strapped his Valyrian sword around his hip.

"Aye," Jon laughed. "And if you think he's never given a woman the Lord's kiss, then you are a greenboy."

Theon frowned, his ale-addled brain trying to understand why he'd said he didn't.

"He wanted an excuse to try a whorehouse," Jon explained, as they made their way out of the warmth of the inn and into the freezing night air.

"Fuck me, it's cold," Theon pulled his cloak tighter around him.

"Aye, try the wall. Now that is cold," Jon laughed as they made their way through the streets, heading back to the castle. "On second thoughts, wait until…" Jon's voice trailed off.

Theon turned, and before he saw Jon, a fist punched him in the face. Pain seared through his cheek, but Theon ignored it as he drew his sword. There was no telling how many of them they were, but it was clear Jon was the target.

The man who hit him attacked him with his own sword, Theon blocked it. Pain shot down his arm, for the man was far stronger than he, and not as drunk, although he was quickly sobering up. Nearby, he heard swords clashing, Jon must be fine, he thought, as he attacked the man.

Their swords continued to clash for longer than Theon could count. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on. His arms were like dead weights, but if he stopped, he wouldn't live to see his wedding day.

A sudden loud screech from the castle momentarily distracted the man he was fighting. Theon suspected Blizzard had found his voice, and Theon was thankful, for it gave him an opportunity. He thrust the sword forward and into the belly of his opponent. Theon felt the warm splatter of blood hit his face as the man slid from his sword.

Just to be certain the man didn't get up, Theon brought his sword upon the man's neck. It wasn't enough to remove his head, but it did end his life. Theon searched for Jon, who was fighting with a man twice his size. Theon wanted to help, then he noticed two other men already on the floor. He cast his eyes to Jon, who seemed to take it all in his stride. Moments later, the man Jon was fighting, had lost his head.

People were emerging from their houses to see what the ruckus was about. Gasps and cries could be heard as they saw the dead men on the ground.

"Get back into your houses," Jon commanded them. "There could be more or them."

"And who the fuck are you?" one man from a nearby house called out.

"Aegon Targaryen," Jon replied, as a gasp filtered around the surrounding houses. More people emerged, just to see the man who would one day be their King.

"Did you kill those three single-handed?" the same man asked.

"Aye, that I did," Jon replied, as Tormund and Robb emerged from the whorehouse.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Tormund asked.

"We were ambushed," Theon replied, wanting to go home. However, he knew they needed to find out who these men were.

"We need to get the bodies back to the castle. See if we can find out who they were," Robb suggested.

"Aye," Jon agreed. "We can carry one each. Although I think I already know who it was."

"Who?" Robb asked, picking up the man Theon had fought and throwing him over his shoulder.

"Roose Bolton," Jon replied.

With that, they set off back to the castle, with one man over a shoulder, blood dripping to the ground as they walked through the snow.