Warg Maiden

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones

Warning: Chapter rated M for Sexual Content.

Chapter 69: The Hidden Dragon

Jon's POV

Rhaegal had ruined horses for Jon. No words could describe what he had experienced. Daenerys seemed pleased by his progress in riding a dragon. As she stated, Rhaegal has always been secluded compared to Drogon and Viserion. Jon was unsure how to respond, especially since he could sense Rhaegal.

"We should use the dragons first," Daenerys suggested. "Have the dragons breathe fire to burn the wights before they reach our forces."

Jon thought about it. At first, Jon thought of keeping the dragons hidden until the Night King revealed himself. However, as he thought about it, it seemed like a terrible plan. It might be best to get the dragons burning the wights and have the armies handle those that break through.

"Probably," Jon agreed.

Ser Jorah appeared with the horses. Imogen was absent; they had been gone for a few hours, and she most likely went to help prepare their forces. Getting on the horse, all three returned to Winterfell. Once arriving, Jon noticed Bran still at the gate.

"Found what you are looking for?" Jon asked.

"I think I'm waiting for someone," Bran answered.

Jon nodded, "Could it be Meera? House Reed might make it in time to send aid."

There was a slight blush in Bran's cheek, "No. Not Meera."

He then gave a sigh. Jon knows Bran will have to apologize to Meera. Even though it was the Three-Eyed Raven's doing, an apology is in order.

"Say Jon…" Bran mumbled, then stopped. "Never mind."

"What is it?" Jon asked.

Bran tried to think of his words, "Do you know where you were born?"

Jon blinked, not expecting it. Now that he thought about it, Jon wasn't sure where he was born. He was a mere infant when Ned Stark brought him to Winterfell. His name is Snow because his father was Eddard Stark, the Warden of Winterfell. It brought back memories of him begging his father to learn who he was. In the end, Ned Stark would say, "When you're older."

"No, why do you ask?" Jon replied.

Bran frowned, "The Three-Eyed Raven was looking into you. I've been trying to figure it out every time I try to look into your past…I always end up when you arrive at Winterfell."

Why would the Three-Eyed Raven look into Jon's past?

Jon frowned at this, staring at his brother. He doesn't seem to understand the Raven's reasons. Then again, Jon remembered the Three-Eyed Raven wanted to be a ruler, whether Queen-Beyond-The-Wall in Imogen or Bran the Broken ruling Westeros. Did the Three-Eyed Raven see Jon as a threat? Why? He was nothing but a bastard.

Bran sighed, "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"You did not," Jon assured. "You were trying to solve the mystery of the Raven."

Bran nodded in agreement.

"Have you seen Imogen?" Jon asked.

"I saw her head out with most of her family and the Dires," Bran said. "They were setting traps."

Jon nodded again, knowing they probably won't return until nightfall. Staring at the sky, it would be a few hours.

"Don't stay out too late," Jon said.

Bran waved him off. Jon chuckled, messing with Bran's hair like he used to, which the younger protested. Yet both left with a smile. Jon continued to do his rounds, making sure everything was going well. Even in the forge, as the blacksmiths, glassmakers, and volunteers. Seeing the obsidian being melted away by dragon fire, flames become molten dragonglass as they are poured into molds to create large weapons. The scraps are used to make arrowheads.

Time went on, and Jon needed a break. There was a lot on his mind as he made his way to the crypts. He grabbed a candle at the entrance and lit it on a torch. Afterward, he made his way down, lighting the candles for the deceased, specifically for his father's family. He needed guidance from his father, seeing how far the city had come in preparation for this war. The tension grew ever so high, not just the army of the dead, the Free Folk, and the foreign armies.

He came over to Ned Stark's statue and began to light a candle for the honorable man.

There was so much left unsaid. A promise his father could not keep.

"Is my mother alive? Does she know about me? Where I am? Where I'm going? Does she care?" Jon asked Ned for the last time.

"The next time we see each other, we'll talk about your mother. Hmm? I promise," Ned promised him.

Sadly, Ned Stark wasn't able to fulfill his promise.

Jon sighed.

The sound of somebody falling caught his attention. He went to investigate and found Sam on the ground, trying to stand up.

"Sam," Jon gasped in surprise.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to be down here," Sam said as he got up.

Jon couldn't help but be happy that Sam was here. He did not expect to see his best friend here. But why is Sam here? Sam should be South at The Citadel in Old Town with Gilly and her son. Even so, Jon came over to give Sam a hug.

"Were you hiding from me?" Jon asked.

"Of course not," Samwell answered.

"What are you doing in Winterfell?" Jon asked. "Or did you read every book in the Citadel already?"

Jon smiled at his joke but stopped to see that Sam was not laughing. Something was wrong since he could tell his friend was crying. His thoughts went to Samwell's self-made family.

"What's wrong? Gilly? Is she all right?"

"She's good," Sam assured, sniffing some.

"Little Sam?"

Sam inhaled and asked, "Don't you know?"

"Know what?"

Jon wasn't sure what was going on. Other than his friend was here. Sam realized this as he tried to keep his composure and look at Jon.

"Daenerys…she executed my father and brother," Sam announced, his voice hoarse. "They were her prisoners."

Jon blinked a few times, discovering this. He tried to think when the Tarlys would be involved, then he thought of the Goldroad. Daenerys killed many of her enemies in battle. No one, not even Lord Tyrion, mentioned any prisoner executions. It was common law that a prisoner would not be executed unless there was grave punishment or resistance through violence.

"She didn't tell you," Sam assumed.

"I'm so sorry," Jon apologized.

Sam nodded, taking a deep breath.

"We need to end this war," Jon said.

Sam paused, taking Jon's words, before saying, "Would you have done it?"

Jon stared at Sam, for Jon would not execute a prisoner of war. When the Free Folk in Castle Black were his prisoners, he did not execute them. He did not make them kneel or submit. When his army fought against the Boltons, the soldiers who surrendered, he did not execute them. Instead, he pardoned them, for those men were conscripted and feared for the safety of their families. But Jon had executed men, just not prisoners of war.

"I've executed men who disobeyed me," Jon murmured.

"You've also spared men," Sam reminded. "Thousands of wildlings when they refused to kneel."

"I wasn't a king," Jon said.

Sam stared deep into Jon's eyes as he said, "But you were. You've always been."

"I haven't been ruling for a year," Jon said. "Not even a Lord Commander for a year."

Sam took a deep breath, yet his anger got to him, "I'm not talking about the King in the North. I'm talking about the King of the Bloody Seven Kingdoms."

Those words struck Jon as he stepped back to make some distance.

Sam regained his composure, "Bran and I worked it out. Gilly found a High Septon's diary. I didn't grasp it at the time because she mispronounced the names. Bran had…what ever Bran has…"

Sam talked to the Three-Eyed Raven.

Bran mentioned he had talked to someone, but the Raven kept it a secret from him. Bran finally gained control of his body just yesterday. How long has Sam been in Winterfell? Why, just now, is Sam revealing himself, saying nonsense?

"What are you talking about?" Jon asked cautiously.

Sam gulped as he said, "Your mother… was Lyanna Stark."

Jon took a deep breath.

"And your father… your real father was Rhaegar Targaryen." Sam continued. "You've never been a bastard."

Jon exhales sharply, staring at Sam. All his life, he grew up believing he was a bastard. He has heard many rumors of who his mother could be, from a noble lady who had fallen, a bar wench, a prostitute, and a wet nurse. He spent years being called Ned Stark's Bastard. The man put his reputation on the line to raise Jon as his own. To be raised in a noble family instead of on the streets or in an orphanage, assuming his mother died in the war. Or that his mother made a sacrifice to give him a better life with Ned Stark, instead of whatever living condition she lived in.

All this time, the man he called father was not his father. Eddard Stark was his uncle. Let alone that his mother was Lyanna Stark. It made so much sense. All he knew of Lyanna Stark was that she died in a bed of her blood. Everyone thought she was killed in her sleep, being a spoil of war. No…she died on the birthing bed. And Rhaegar Targaryen was his father. Was he still a bastard, a product of rape. His stomach tightened, sickened by the thought.

"You're Jaehaerys Targaryen, the true heir to the Iron Throne," Sam added.

Targaryen? Jon thought confused. Not Sand or Water.

Jon spiraled, trying to understand, going through the history, stories, and rumors that transpired during the rebellion. Rhaegar Targaryen was married to the Dornish Princess, Elia Martell. There was no chance of him having a Targaryen name—a dragon seed, but not a Targaryen.

This has to be a lie. It was a trick from the Three-Eyed Raven to stir some sort of chaos between him and Daenerys. The Raven considered Jon a threat.

"I'm sorry," Sam apologized. "I know it's a lot to take in."

Jon grabbed Sam by the shoulders.

"My father was the most honorable man I ever met," Jon whispered harshly.

Sam nodded.

"You're saying he lied to me all my life." Jon accused.

"No," Sam assured. "Your father—well, Ned Stark. He promised your mother he'd always protect you. And he did. Robert would have murdered you if he knew. You're the true king. Jaehaerys Targaryen, Third of His Name, Protector of the Realm, all of it."

Jon stepped back. His breathing was shaken by this information.

After a moment, he turned around, staring at his mother's statue.

He was a Targaryen.

He faced Sam, "Tell me everything."

.o0o.

Imogen's POV

We made it back as night claimed the sky. The day and afternoon were spent setting traps among the wolfswood that the Army of the Dead would most likely be coming through. Especially wires that had been coated in dragonglass or shards. It was tedious, as accidents had occurred, but no fatalities.

"Get some rest," Fenrir told my brothers and me. "We will be doing more tomorrow."

"I'm starving," Ethan said.

"You're always starving," Aiden countered.

"And you're not," Ethan challenged.

"Knock it off," Fenrir grumbled as he smacked the back of both of their heads.

The Twins winced, rubbing their injured scalps.

I chuckled, shaking my head, "Go inside and get some food."

Both twins stared at me, "You're not coming?"

I shook my head, "I'm gonna check on Jon."

Both twins smirked as they said in unison, "Our dear future br-"

Before they could finish, I covered their mouths. Other than our families, the Dragon Council, Tormund, and Ser Davos are aware of our courtship, but the Northern Court does not know. Not yet, at least.

"I swear you two will be the death of me," I seethed.

They muffle something behind my hands. Something along the lines of, "Just making up for lost time."

I took several deep breaths, removing my hands. Fenrir sighed, amused, though he shook his head, grabbing both sons by the collars of their cloaks.

"Let yer sister be," he warned.

The twins chuckled but nodded.

I sighed, shaking my head, "You three go in. I'll take care of the wolves."

Fenrir nodded as he dragged the twins with him. A canine laugh could be heard from Valko as the grey direwolf shook his head, along with Skadi and Ghost. I also chuckled, for even though my brothers pull these stunts, I know it was their way of showing love. Anyway, I led the three direwolves into their designated area. Even though Ghost roams around his size, he can easily enter the castle. Yet Ghost seemed to follow Skadi around.

It wouldn't be surprising these two will mate once Ghost has grown to his absolute size.

Once the wolves were settled, I made my way to the courtyard, keeping an eye out for Jon. Bran was no longer in the courtyard, so hopefully, he was inside getting some rest. I walked around until I spotted Jon appearing from the crypt's entrance with Sam. I stopped, noticing their composure to be tense, as if they had a heated conversation.

Cautiously, I made my way over to them. Sam gestured to Jon, and Jon stopped whatever he was about to say and took a deep breath.

"Oh, Imogen, good to see you again," Sam greeted.

"Likewise," I replied. "I saw Gilly earlier with Little Sam."

Sam forced a smile, "That's good."

"Especially the good news," I added.

Sam's cheeks turned pink under the dim lights of the torches. "I…I uh…I should go check on them."

Jon forced a nod.

Sam opened his mouth to speak, then sighed, looking down ashamed, before walking away. Never have I seen these two act so…. I don't know…harsh. Jon expressed something between brooding and disappointment.

"Is everything all right?" I asked.

Jon turned to face me, trying to mask his emotions but failing.

I frowned at this, "Let's go somewhere private."

Jon nodded as he led the way. I followed him, and no words were said. We ended up in his chambers. Jon opened the door, letting me in. Once I was inside, Jon entered, locking the door. Still, no words were said as he roughly took off Longclaw, almost slamming it on the table and his gloves.

"Did you and Sam fight?" I asked, slowly taking my cloak off.

Jon went over to the already-lit fireplace, resting an arm on the mantel and taking several deep breaths.

"Jon…did you two have an argument?" I asked, again.

Jon heaved a heavy sigh, "I wouldn't call it an argument."

"I don't understand," I said.

Jon took another deep breath before facing me, "When you were under the Three-Eyed Ravens…. guidance…did he ever block moments of the past from you?"

I blinked, confused, "We didn't cover all of Westeros's history."

"But were there moments you wanted to see…but can't. As if taken to another moment instead." Jon asked.

I paused, trying to think of any. I barely had free reign, and when I did, I focused on my ancestors and family, seeing the lives of my parents and forefathers.

"The Dance of Dragons," I thought aloud.

Jon stared at me to explain.

"I've seen the battles, but the politics…especially with Rhaenyra and King Viserys. Every time I try to see their moments together…I get redirected."

"Are there other moments?" he asked, almost desperately.

"I can't remember thousands of years right now," I replied. "Why are you asking?"

Jon took a deep breath, "Bran can't find memories of me. Only to be as far back as Ned Stark bringing me to Winterfell. He asked me where I was born."

"Weren't you born in the North?" I asked.

Jon shook his head, "I only know of my nameday, nothing else."

Until now, I thought, confused.

Jon combed his hand through his hair, still frustrated.

"Sam talked to Bran while the Three-Eyed Raven was possessing him," he started, then stopped.

My eyes narrowed, "What did they say?"

"Apparently, I'm not a bastard," Jon ground out.

My eyes widened. Not a statement I was expecting. I did not care about his parentage, for I love Jon for who he is, not his blood or heritage. I stopped realizing my feelings. Realizing I loved Jon and that seeing him like this so overwhelmed worries me. Choking back the realization, I strip Dark Sister, my dirk, and gloves before making my way over.

Jon had his eyes closed, trying to comprehend everything that had been told to him. I wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder. Not expecting it, Jon tensed before wrapping his arms around me, pressing me closer to his form. No words were said. He needed to know I did not care.

We stayed like this for some time.

After some time, Jon adjusted a little so we could look at each other.

"I thought…I thought Ned Stark was my father," he murmured. "All this time…I thought it was a moment of weakness that he broke his honor and took responsibility for me. Instead of burdening my mother."

Jon took a deep breath, "But it was all a lie. A lie to keep me safe."

I cradle his cheek, letting him know I was here.

Jon leaned into my touch, his eyes open. He stared at me, whispering, "My parents are Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen."

I took a deep breath, comprehending what he said. "Didn't he kidnap Lyanna…and…"

For I have been told he had raped Lyanna Stark. The only knowledge I had of Rhaegar Targaryen from the Raven was that he was born during the Tragedy of Summerhall. Afterward, it has been hearsay from the Northmen's perspective of the Targaryen Prince how he kidnapped Lyanna, which led to a war.

Jon shook his head, and he took both of my hands. "They were married in secret. After Rhaegar fell on the Trident, she had a son. Robert would have murdered the baby if he ever found out, and Lyanna knew it. So… the last thing she did, as she bled to death on her birthing bed, was give the boy to her brother . . . Ned Stark...to raise as his bastard."

I took this information in.

"My name . . . my real name . . . is Jaehaerys Targaryen," he added, squeezing my hands tightly, afraid I would run away.

It was still too much to comprehend.

"I don't know if this was a trick from the Raven or true…" Jon continued. "But Sam…he told me Gilly found a journal of a Septon who did the annulment and wedding. They were married in Dorne."

He, too, was trying to grasp this fact.

"They loved each other," he whispered. "And it started a war."

He stared at me, questioning what my next move would be as if his parentage would ruin us and I would run away. To escape the threats that will follow him, if anyone finds out who he is. By the laws of men, Jon is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Not only does he have kings' blood in his veins from House Stark, but also House Targaryen.

I squeezed his hands, "Blood means nothing. Dragon, Wolf, Snow, it all means nothing."

Jon sighed in relief as he rested his forehead against my own.

"I don't want any of it," he whispered.

"Then we don't tell them," I whispered. "The choice is yours."

Jon took a deep breath, "I need to tell my family. They have the right to know."

"Once Daenerys is south," I advised.

Jon nodded in agreement. Daenerys shouldnt know of Jon's parentage. She would consider Jon as a threat. Either she kills him, marries him, or something to swear him off to secrecy as Westeros has fallen deep into the Andal customs. What can protect Jon is his title as King in the North. That he must stand firm as the King in the North or…Or he comes with me to Lunar Haven. Relinquish his titles and join me in the True North if we survive the Great War. The dragons don't like the cold, and though they enter the True North, the Frost Fang is massive and further up in the mountains.

Jon cradles my cheek, "What are you thinking?"

I bit my lip, unsure how to answer it, for I couldn't make the connection between knowing our fate is undetermined and realizing my feelings.

"So, I did ride a dragon," I murmured.

Jon stared at me for a moment before he chuckled, shaking his head.

I smiled a little, glad I could redirect him away from the spiraling he was in. To keep him grounded, even if it was just a moment. Although, if all of this is true, then why would the Three-Eyed Raven say it? Was it to cause strife between Jon, the Northerners, Daenerys, or Westeros? If Jon were the true male heir, I would see that as a conflict that could start another war.

In order for Bran the Broken to exist, Jon would have to be eliminated. Now I see it: in the possible future, Jon telling Daenerys, or her finding out, would have caused a rift that resulted in Jon killing her. Yet, there seems to be more that was left out.

It was best not to dwell on it.

"Stay with me tonight," Jon offered.

"Wouldn't the others know?" I asked.

For the Andal customs frown upon premarital relations.

"I don't care," he murmured. "I'm courting you, and if we survive, I intend to make you mine."

I raised my brow, "I think the Free Folk have worn off on ya."

Jon managed to smirk, "Aye."

"If I'm spending the night, you owe me a meal," I said. "I haven't eaten since breakfast."

Jon snorted.

.o0o.

Food was brought, and Jon and I ate together in comfortable silence. Once we were done eating, we took off our armors and outer layers. However, I don't know where this was going. Was this supposed to be about sex or just sleeping together?

As Jon read my mind, he went over to a dresser, pulled out a shirt, and handed it to me. I smiled a little, appreciating it. Jon nodded as he went over to the fireplace, putting another log in. I turned around, stripped my tunic, and then started working on my wrappings. Once untying it, I carefully unraveled it, sighing in relief.

Suddenly, there was a hand on my back.

I blinked, yet I knew it was Jon.

Carefully, he pushed my hair to the side, then traced along the drawing. Those calloused fingers started at the direwolf, slowly up to the Heart Tree, before reaching the raven and, finally, the dragon. Longer, he focused on the dragon.

Jon is the dragon, I thought to myself.

Before I could speak, Jon leaned in, placing a kiss on the nape of my neck. I sighed, adjusting my neck to reveal his claimant. Whatever crest he put there. At first, I thought it would be a Stark Crest or a snowflake design. However, the thought of a dragon might mark it if Jon reveals his true identity. But his lips took claim as he sucked on the flesh bruising it with his lips.

I panted, feeling pleasure there.

We needed a distraction.

For the Three-Eyed Raven's mind games tormented us.

Jon turned me around, and I stared at him. His dark eyes focused on mine as his hand cradled my face. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. Sometimes, I wish I could understand him, wanting to know what he was thinking. Whatever words he was about to say were replaced with a kiss. His arms wrapped around me, bringing me close. I kissed him back as his hands molded into my flesh.

Desperately, we tried to remove the clothes, which he allowed as we both stripped from our clothes. However, the moment we worked on our boots, we ended up fumbling onto the bed. As Jon landed on top of me, I gasped, before a burst of laughter escaped in how ridiculous we were. Jon realized this as we chuckled, for we have always been rushing into things.

Taking a moment, we manage to strip the rest of our clothing and boots.

Jon was soon on top of me. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and gave me a chaste kiss. Before going down, his mouth devoured my breasts until I was writhing against him, gripping his shoulders. Until his lips kissed the rune of protection.

I moaned, closing my eyes while one hand went through his hair. When he returned to my lips, he slid a finger inside me, moving it in and out. He pulled back slightly, staring at me as he added another finger. I gasped, feeling my walls stretch. As I became wet. When his fingers entered with ease, I nodded, widening my legs, before grasping his cock and aligning it to my entrance.

He shifted his hips and slowly entered me, groaning in relief. He doesn't pull back; he presses in until he is fully sheathed inside me. I accepted it all, wrapping my arms around him and bringing him as close as possible. We used every part of our body to ravish one another, leaving nothing untouched. For I want him to forget. To let the past be the past and for this moment. No Raven manipulations, kings, or dragons.

Every thrust he makes drives deep inside me. Each kiss we have is fire. We made love as if it was the end. As if tomorrow will be our last day.

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