29 Dragonstone

If there was any advantage in having wolfblood mixed with that of the dragon, Jon knew it had to be his adaptation to the cold climes of the north. Now, high above in the clouds with hands wrapped tightly onto Rhaegal's neck, the skies were not so different to the swirling snows of Winterfell winter. The same chill. The same blistering wind. All were alike, and Jon's hardy northern blood made him suited for it.

Gazing across the expanse of air, bits of wispy clouds separating them, was his beloved. Straddling Balerion with the ease of an expert, Daenerys looked breathtaking. The consummate Targaryen Queen more at home on dragonback than anywhere else. 'Well, perhaps more at home in our bed,' Jon couldn't help but think. Regal and fiery, the perfect combination in both ruling and intimate life. 'Gods, I love her.'

Her head turning, she met his gaze and smiled, pointing down. Sure enough, the sparkling waves were crashing against a rather large island. 'Dragonstone.' Where his ancestor Aegon the Conqueror planned his invasion of Westeros. 'Down, boy.' Roaring - twin roars coming from his brothers - Rhaegal descended rapidly. The green fields grew bigger and bigger the faster he descended, Jon involuntarily bracing for an impact… that never came. At a last gasp the green dragon flapped his wings with a powerful gust, arresting his descent until it was no more than a thud on the ground.

Compared to Dany's graceful slide down Balerion's shoulder, Jon's dismount was more of a barely-controlled fall. Merry laughter rang behind him. "Don't laugh. Before now I've only ridden Rhaegal once at above tree height." His cheeks flushed red.

Seeing the blush, Daenerys thought it was adorable. 'My Dragonwolf, not so dour after all.' "You did amazingly, Jon." Hugging him, she felt Jon relax as she kissed his cheek. "You have the blood of Valyrian dragonriders in your veins. All you need is practice."

"Most likely," Jon replied, kissing her on the lips. Pressing against her lithe body sure did wonders for the chill still in his system.

Heavy breathing drew Jon's attention, and sure enough there was Rhaegal. His slit eyes gazed at him. If the beast had been human Jon would have identified it as the way he used to look at his father. Behind, both Balerion and Edderon hooted, sort of like Robb and Arya trying to get him to join in a game. Chuckling - Daenerys smiled at the sound of Jon's laughter, finding it refreshing and beautiful - Jon petted the dragon's nose. "Go be with your brothers."

Snorting, Rhaegal turned to Daenerys - who did the same. He then hooted back, the three dragons lifting off into the air together. "He has a strong bond to you, my love," Dany said, resting her arm over his shoulder and leaning on it. "No wonder he travelled across the seas to find you."

"Yes." Jon felt it could be from enduring near death at the hands of the Night King, but did not want to hurt Dany with such a memory. She was spooked about the White Walkers already.

"Khaleesi?" Both turned to see several people and a troop of Unsullied guards arriving at the cliff face. In the van was Jorah Mormont. "I take it the battle was won, then?"

"Yes, a close run thing," Dany said. "But a victory. We have an alliance, the North, the Vale, and the Riverlands… more or less." Turning to the Unsullied, she began speaking in Valyrian. Jon didn't follow, though he planned on asking Missandei to teach him as soon as they returned to Winterfell. A Targaryen that didn't know Valyrian was the same as a Stark who couldn't walk in the snow.

Shifting his eyes, Jon was then face to face with Ser Jorah. "You served at the Wall, with my father, yes?"

"Jorah Mormont." Jon knew who this man was at first glance. He looked just like the Old Bear. "I was his personal steward. He was a great man."

Jorah's eyes glassed over, the hardened knight seeing fond memories flashing before his eyes. "My father… he no longer lives, does he?"

"No." Jon shook his head, sharing Jorah's sense of loss. Jeor Mormont had been his mentor, a hero in his eyes. "He died bravely, trying to save his men. Lyanna now rules Bear Island."

"Maege's daughter? Knowing her, Lyanna's probably a spitfire." Jorah grinned.

"That is an understatement." Seeing the knight's eyes falling to the sword strapped to his hip, Jon place his hand on the pommel. "I saved his life, from a monster. He gave me his sword, Longclaw, that was supposed to go to his heir…"

A raised hand stopped him. "If my father thought you should have it, then as his son I must respect it. I brought disgrace to House Mormont, and the man who won the heart of Daenerys Targaryen has proven himself far worthier of the sword than I could ever be." The two nodded simultaneously, one northerner to another. High honor, the way of their land.

Finished speaking with Daenerys, the stone-faced Essosi stepped forward. Jon felt he wouldn't want to face this one in battle. "You Jon Snow."

"Aye. You must be Greyworm."

Greyworm nodded. "Thank you for protecting Queen Daenerys. You have gratitude from I."

Jon shrugged. "I'd say it was she that protected me, but thank you."

Cutting in, laughing, Dany grabbed Jon's hand. "Come, Lord Snow. Time to meet the Prince and Princess."

Feet clattering along the grey floors, Jon ran his hands along the intricate murals that decorated the walls. Images of history, of the Valyrian Empire and the Freehold that followed it. Of Aegon's conquests. Of the history of the Targaryen family. His family. It hadn't yet sunken in completely - he wasn't just a Stark, but a Targaryen as well. A wolf and a dragon, the mix of two great houses. Of fire and ice. Once barely in possession of an identity at all, now he had two, the absolute best of all noble blood in his veins. Betrothed to a dragonrider and with two children from her that he never even met - more dragon than wolf. It was overwhelming.

"Hey…" His deep musings were broken by Dany, cupping his cheek. "Why are you brooding, Jon?"

"Nothing, just…" He looked outside to where the dragons were circling. "Nothing."

Firm hands brought him back to her. "You're just as much a Stark as you are a Targaryen, Jon." Dany smiled. "They are still your family." He smiled as well. His beloved knew exactly what to say.

Muffled Dothraki curses and scuffling sandals broke them from their enchanted moment. "Where are those two, I'm going to…" A pretty woman with olive skin turned the corner and ran straight into Jon and Daenerys. "Your Grace." She bowed. "I did not know you returned."

"Calm down, Doreah," Dany remarked. "This is Jon Snow, my betrothed." The handmaid's eyes went wide. "We have come to see our children." Her subtle focus on 'our' only made Jon's heart clench. She wasn't hiding them at all, broadcasting their relationship with pride.

"Well… you see." The Dothraki former slave almost wanted to die - there was no telling if the Queen would have her dragons do the deed quite soon. "I'm not sure where they are."

Doreah's panic was starting to affect Daenerys when the sound of childlike laughter echoed faintly through the halls. Jon felt his heart clench, hearing the joyful voices. "I've got you, Torrhen Stark," came a girlish voice. "Bend the knee!"

"The King of the North never bends the knee," replied a boy, trying to sound noble but interspersed with giggles. "You will feel the wrath of winter, Visenya." From the looks of it they were having a grand old time, reminding Jon of the days when he and Robb, and then Bran and Arya played around in the courtyard at Winterfell. Happy memories.

At that point the sources of the voices ran into view, laughing and smiling as they playacted their fight. "Told you the dragon would defeat you," giggled the girl.

"The direwolf will rise again… Issa!" The boy - Rhaegar, saw his mother and beamed. Moving to run into her arms, the prince instead ended up running smack into Arya instead. "Watch it Arry!" He rubbed his shoulder.

But Arya didn't hear him. Ignoring her nursemaid - ignoring her mother, who she had been initially excited to see once more, to concentrate on the man in a black leather tunic and with tied up raven hair. He was so familiar to her, but she just couldn't place him.

Feeling his body sag, heart beating out of his chest, emotion swirled through Jon. For the second time of his life he felt like crying. Upon first glance there was no doubt they were his children - half him and half Daenerys. Rhaegar had the same Targaryen looks as his true father, but with the northern resoluteness that characterized himself, Robb, and his other father Ned Stark. Arya looked just like a mixture of his beloved and her namesake whom Jon also loved dearly. They were perfect, his children. 'I'm your father.' Jon wanted to say it, tell them who he was, but the emotion of seeing them for the first time was so overwhelming that he was just silent.

'That man… I've seen him before.' An image came to Arya's mind, one cloudy and dreamlike… Suddenly she gasped, little grey eyes widening. She looked at the man, and then her mother, who was smiling and tearing up at the same time. 'Fa… father?'

Rhaegar caught on then and there, eyes widening as well. "Father?"

Noticing Jon was lost for words - hitching his breath and trying to stop the tears from forming in his eyes, and for once the douer northerner was losing - Daenerys nodded. "It's your father."

"Father!"

"Father!"

As if automatically, Jon fell to his knees and opened his arms wide just as two bundles slammed into him. He closed around them in a tight embrace. There was no stopping the tears anymore, his normal brooding nature vanishing from the icy stabbing at not being there for his children's lives and the rays of warmth at finally being with them banishing the ice away. "Your father's here, my sweetlings."

Arya buried her face into his chest, inhaling his spicy northern scent and feeling fully safe and secure. "I knew you'd come."

"Stay with us, Papa. Don't ever leave," Rhaegar pleaded.

"Never. Daddy's here, now. Daddy will never leave."

Openly crying, Dany watched the scene tenderly. A stray hand wiped the tears from her lids. It was this - this right here that meant more to her than any throne or crown or kingdom. Family. Her family. Her beloved Jon and her dear children. Their children. 'Together at last.' Then, a strong hand encircled her wrist and yanked her down. Yelping softly, soon it was her that was nestled in the embrace as well. All kneeling. Jon's face buried in her hair. The twins sandwiched between them.

It had been on Dragonstone where Daenerys Targaryen found her family wrenched away from her. It was now on Dragonstone where she found her family reborn.

"You see here?" one of the wildlings - Tormund if her memory was correct - said, pointing to a large wooden pike nearly half a foot in diameter. "The damn Boltons would have ridden right through us with their horses had the other southerners not stopped them."

A smirk formed on Sansa's face - it was amusing to hear the likes of the Starks or the Hornwoods referred to as 'Southerners.' To the Free Folk, anyone living south of the wall was a southernern. "Go on, Tormund," Ser Davos asked.

Grinning, he picked up the pike with both hands. "Those cocksuckers with the spears…"

"Hoplites. They're called hoplites," Davos offered, jovially.

"Whatever." Many of the wildlings had tried to murder the Bolton prisoners - there had been many - to settle the score that they caused. Since they were lacking a house to serve at the moment, Tyrion had suggested to Jon, Robb, Daenerys, and Sansa that they be sent to Meereen as a reinforcement… at least until they redeemed themselves. Having bent the knee to both House Stark and the Dragon Queen, the new Stark bannermen had been sent to White Harbor to take the voyage to Slaver's Bay. "Their spears nearly stopped old Mag over there." The grizzled giant grinned, grunting softly. Being a giant, the soft grunt was rather loud. "If a weak cunt of a spear could do that, imagine what these bitches could do to horsemen."

They did look impressively stout and deadly, Sansa noted. "I like it. Have the Free Folk warriors equipped with them." At Tormund's nod, she turned and left the armory.

Just as the outdoor chill hit her, Sansa heard a familiar flutter and screech, followed by something perching on her shoulder. A small smile crossed her face. "Hello, girl." Sansenya chirped happily, nuzzling her small but growing head on her namesake's offered finger. "You are growing quite well. Your parents would be happy." Emitting a low whine, the orange dragon lowered her head. Sansa figured it was as close to a look of sadness as a dragon could give. "I know. I miss him too." Even surrounded by soldiers and loyal guards, Sansa didn't feel completely safe from evil such as Ramsay unless both Jon and Robb were present.

Hearing twin screeches upon reaching the stairs to the balcony, she extended her left arm in expectation. Sure enough, Rhealla and Lyanarys, perched themselves on her, hissing and snapping their jaws at each other. "Enough," Sansa told them sternly, and they obeyed. They seemed to have an attachment to Sansa, not loving her as deeply as they did their parents but allowing her to touch them and obeying her commands - only Robb, Margaery, and Missandei shared such a skill, and they were all out inspecting the Dothraki and Unsullied. Sansa was sure Jon's twins would be more… agreeable since they wouldn't grow up with the capacity to spit dragonfire.

'Jon has children.' It still shocked her to think about it, that he was a father and she was an aunt. Looking down at the courtyard, where the memories returned of him playing with Robb, Bran, and Arya while she sewed and minded her lessons inside. 'Where I shunned him.' Guilt and bitterness filled her, the dragons sensing it and quieting down. At least now Sansa had a chance. Jon loved her all the same, and deep down Sansa always had as well. 'He'll be a great father, I know that…'

"Sansa."

The acting lady of Winterfell turned, face still stone. "Mother." Upon the sight of her the dragons hissed and took off. They didn't like Catelyn, as if having a sixth sense about the past. It was mirrored in Sansa's icy gaze. The warmth and joy of their reunion had dissipated and the recent anger bubbled forth. 'But a good lady wears a mask when in public.' "Any news from Uncle Brynden?"

"Yes. He's reached Moat Cailin and scouts reported that the Twins are open."

This drew Sansa's attention. "What?" They had given her great-uncle a third of the Vale Knights to deal with whatever remaining forces Walder Frey had, expecting a tough fight. Now the most strategic bridge in the Seven Kingdoms was open and undefended. "Did he flee south like a rat off a sinking ship?"

Catelyn shook her head. "Apparently, the entirety of House Frey was massacred by unknown parties. Lord Walder's throat slit, his eldest son mutilated, and the rest poisoned. Whatever Frey men remained melted away into the countryside."

Sansa shared her mother's look - the look of justice being served. "Good. He can rot in hell." A thought occurred to her. "Is Uncle Edmure alive?"

"Yes." Her mother seemed quite genuinely relieved by that. "He was freed by the scouts and reunited with his wife and son."

"Send a raven to Moat Cailin. Tell Uncle Brynden to march to Riverrun immediately and secure it before any of the Lannister-allied houses do." If they held the castle then the land routes to the Vale would be open, and it would essentially secure everything north of the River Trident for Jon and Daenerys. Sansa knew it, and she bet that Tywin Lannister knew it as well.

Her mother seemed impressed and swelled with stoic pride. "Of course my Lady." The pride only provoked another steely glare. Catelyn knew it too well, the glare that Daenerys sent her way for the first month in Meereen - the one Robb cast her as well. Now that all knew the truth, the reckoning for her actions had come, and it was all deserved. "Sansa…"

"When did you know?" For all her anger at her mother - for not only shunning Jon but for essentially making herself shun Jon as well - she remained composed. The words carried no emotion. "The truth about him, I mean?"

The elder woman closed her eyes. "The night of the feast, when the King arrived. Your father and uncle Benjen told me."

"No wonder you allowed him by Bran's bedside… rather than send him away." That had been odd to Sansa at the time. For the young girl she had been, it had caused her to be nicer to Jon as well before they left. "I just can't understand why father didn't tell you at least… not that it justified what you did."

"It didn't." Catelyn knew she deserved every bit of this from her children. She admired it actually, how close they were with their brother. Robb had grown humble, strategic - a true Lord. Sansa had become the definition of a lady, poised and calculating. 'If only it hadn't turned out the way it did.' It hadn't been the first time that she prayed to the gods for the chance to change things.

Looking back at the courtyard, the perch on the balcony was always the calmest part of the castle for Sansa. Mostly because of all the memories it brought. When her niece and nephew would come, she smiled inwardly at the joy it would bring. Such joy had been missing for so long in this place. "Jon has already forgiven you. Daenerys, Robb, and I haven't but he has. Likely tells all of us who the better one is. The one fit to rule."

Catelyn closed her eyes, the arctic wind blowing against her face. "Yes, it does.'

Sliding the whetstone along the sharp steel - dulled by constant use on the battlefield - Podrick Payne kept darting back to the two women on the balcony. To one of them in particular. His time with Brienne had tempered his innate shyness, and the incident with the whores Tyrion and Bronn acquired for him did increase his confidence, but when in the company of the fiery-haired northerner it had all come back. There wasn't a more breathtaking sight.

"Oy, boy." The sword dropped onto the ground, the whetstone following with a clang onto the steel at the startling voice. Podrick felt a strong hand smack into his back as Tormund Giantsbane sat down next to him. "You look distracted, lad. Is it a girl?"

Podrick blinked, not knowing what to say in these situations. While battle could drum bad fighting skills out of a youth, only experience with women not your family, knight, or paid companion could overcome youthful shyness. "Um… I… well…"

Another belly laugh left the wildling. "There's only two things that can get a man this distracted. Food for one that's starvin' and a pretty lady." Podrick's flickering eyes betrayed him, and Tormund traced them to the balcony where the lone woman rested - Catelyn having retired to the solar. "Ah, the King Crow's sister. Good choice. Us gingers are beautiful, kissed by fire."

Trying to stammer a reply, Podrick failed to make a noise. Instead he grabbed the sword and went back to sharpening it. There was no way he would discuss his secret longing with the boisterous wildling. One word to Lord Snow and Longclaw would be thrust up his gut for even thinking about his sister.

The wildling never got the hint. "With a woman, boy, you have to go in strong. Like with my woman. A great golden beauty, taller than any woman alive…"

There was no mistaking who Tormund referred to. "Lady Brienne?" This was news to him, some of Lord Tyrion's fondness for gossip having transferred to his former squire. "You're… with her?"

"Not yet, but I've seen the way she looks at me." 'Contemptuously,' thought Podrick as the wildling began to opine about having giant babies with her. The young squire wondered if Tormund's feelings - though far more boisterous and exaggerated - were essentially what his were in regards to the Lady Sansa. She was the daughter of the great house, blood impeccable on both sides. He was just a simple squire, unfit no matter how many times he saved her.

Looking up, Sansa had gone in. Hearing Tormund still talking, Podrick sighed and went back to sharpening his blade.

"Father?" Setting the precious bundle in his bed, Jon gently ruffled his hair. Rhaegar was a hellion, tiring himself out with all the running he had done with his sister - it took all of Jon's Night's Watch endurance to keep up. 'Just like Bran… before his fall.' A sudden protective urge sprang forth like a growling wolf. A wolf protecting its cubs. "The snow, is it everywhere?"

He smiled, kissing his son's brow. "It covers everything. Quite annoying actually, but it protects us from outsiders. Northerners call it General Winter."

"I can't wait to see snow." Propping his hands under his head, Rhaegar's violet eyes met Jon's - they were exactly like Dany's. "Are there Direwolves there? Packs of them." A yawn formed, sleep beginning to overcome the little Prince as he snuggled on his pillow.

Covering him up with the blanket, Jon stroked his cheek. "No packs, but I do have a direwolf. His name's Ghost, with fur as white as snow." A smile curled on his son's face as he fell into the gentle embrace of sleep. Wiping away a tear, Jon turned and walked to the other bed. "Good night, my sweetling." Arya never ceased to make his heart clench, looking the perfect mix between his mother and his beloved.

"Stay with us, poppa," she softly cried, reaching for his cheek. Her fingers stroked Jon's prickly beard. "Don't go."

Jon kissed her cheek. "I'll be right in the next room." Both Visenya and Rhaenys had been protective mother dragons from what Dany had told him. The King's chamber in Dragonstone castle had been built with a doorway to the nursery in case either Queen had to rush to their children. "Momma and poppa will be here in a heartbeat if you call."

Eyes fluttering shut, Arya nodded. "Love you poppa." Then she was asleep like her brother.

Heading for the door, Jon couldn't stop the few tears from hitting the stone floor. "Love you too, sweetling."

Where once the great throne room had been filled with color and light, to Jamie Lannister it now reminded him of the darkest of dungeons. His Divine Majesty, the Golden Chimera prefered to hold his infrequent - bordering on never, which was the case for his attendance at the small council - sessions of court at night. Only a smattering of candles banished away the darkness and the once vibrant stained glass had been bricked over, while two braziers gave the area around the Iron Throne itself any light. Rumor was that the King more frequently held meetings in the dungeon itself, but Jamie had luckily never been summoned. Those that were alleged to have never returned.

Naturally, his eyes fell on Cersei - her bewitching golden hair standing out among the darkness. Armored boots clacking on the stone floors, he quickly arrived at her side and kissed her cheek from behind. "Sister." Jamie noticed her tensing up before relaxing at the sound of his voice. It pained him.

"Brother," she replied, outwardly reserved but with a hint of warmth. Though she would always be beautiful to him, Jamie hated the state she was in. Her eyes were sunken, from stress rather than hunger though her appetite wasn't the best. Cersei looked years older than she was, and there was a nervousness about her that threatened to break her. Before she had strode through the Red Keep as if she owned it, but now - even when their father was there - the walls had ears.

And the King was their son. "Do you know why we were summoned here?" Besides them, there was a nervous, hunchbacked Pycelle, Iron Bank representative Tycho Nestoris, and Littlefinger - who was, in his own unctuous way, looking nervous.

"No one tells me much anymore, but my sources tell me that the problem in the North has been taken care of."

"Well that should be good news, right?" The victory at Sunspear had been heralded with a week's thanksgiving. "Why hasn't Joffrey hailed it?" They spoke in hushed tones.

Cersei gave him a pained grimace. "Bolton and Viserys Targaryen were defeated by Ned Stark's bastard son, an alive Robb Stark, the Vale Knights that switched sides, and the Dragon Queen." Jamie grimaced as well. The eventuality that their father had been warning of and preparing for had finally come.

Unlike when the King sounded his arrival to the whole city, a simple gong heralded his presence in the throne room. Cersei fell to her knees, as did Jamie and all the others. It was a privilege of Joffrey's munificence and trust - the most anyone had seen him give to his family since making Tywin his Supreme Commander of the Armies following the Battle of Blackwater Bay - the ability to merely be on one's knees in his presence rather than prostrate himself. It rankled Jamie, but he said nothing.

As the ringing of the gong still echoed through the throne room, in walked the royal procession. In the van was the High Sparrow, arms crossed over his chest as always. Surrounded by his guards was the King, draped in a veil of silk that obscured his face. Waddling along was the fat form of Dontos Hollard, the King's fool and the only person besides the blind servant girls that attended to the King who was permitted to look upon Joffrey. Rounding out the rear was the ever-scheming vestige of Qyburn. Jamie didn't trust him when the false Maester brought him back from the Riverlands with Brienne of Tarth, and the feeling had only grown since.

"This evening," began the High Sparrow, as he did on all private meetings of the small council. "We implore the Seven to hear our thanks for the gift of their child upon this earth."

"We say our thanks before the Seven," everyone repeated. 'What happened to my son?' Jamie thought. Cersei blamed it all on the High Septon, Tywin on Qyburn, but Jamie thought differently. 'He was always cruel, but it was Littlefinger that planted the seed.' Since then the madness had just grown and grown.

Taking a seat on the Iron Throne, a cushion placed there for his comfort, Joffrey peered at each person. "Let us begin. Pycelle," he barked. "Why is it getting colder? I had to wear additional clothes this morning."

"Forgive me, all highest," bumbled the old man. "But the Citadel has said that winter has arrived."

Joffrey hissed. "One day I will control the weather to prevent this. Right, Sparrow?"

"Of course. The Seven are kind to their child."

Likely preening under his veil, Joffrey next turned to Littlefinger. "Lord Baelish, has the dragonspawn been drawn and quartered for his rebellion by the Vale?"

Trembling, Baelish nodded. "That rebellion was put down, but I beg your forgiveness for informing you, your highest, that another rebellion has formed." There was silence. Gulping, he continued. "The Dragon Queen has returned from Meereen and landed in the North. She has joined the forces there, deposed her brother, and allied with the treasonous Vale knights to oppose you."

"WHAT?!" Under the gauzy fabric, Joffrey felt his heart beating out of his chest. The walls were closing in. Enemies everywhere, dangerous and ready to pounce. He didn't feel safe, not even with the swords of the Mountain, Meryn Trant, and thousands of completely loyal Faith Militants. And his army… "WHERE IS TYWIN! WHERE IS MY ARMY!"

"He is in Dorne, my son. Fighting to keep your kingdom intact…"

"HE NEEDS TO BE HERE!"

"If I may, all highest?" The Chimera's withering gaze, made all the more mighty and terrifying by the fabric white as sun-washed bone covering it, fell on Littlefinger. "A detachment of heavy cavalry and light men-at-arms has arrived in port today, under the command of Randyll Tarly."

There was silence from the King. "Is he a fool?" The contemptuous scowl fell on Ser Dontos, still sitting in the corner.

"His record is distinguished. Combined with the men we have in the Crownlands and Westerlands, you'll have an army of over forty thousand," Littlefinger said, voice dripping with oiled words. One must only make the sovereign's last thought of you a grateful one. All other mistakes would be forgiven. A sidelong look at the Lannister twins only proved that it was not the Chimera that could burn him.

"And the dragons?"

It was Qyburn that answered the King. "The scorpions have been delivered to all formations, all Highest. They were effective in the battle at Winterfell, and will be even greater in a more concentrated formation. Attack now, while surprise is still on your side."

"Yes, they must attack at once. But not Tarly." A finger pointed below the dias. "You, uncle."

"All Highest?" Jamie was confused. "I am your loyal guard, sworn to protect you from all harm." 'My son as well.' His son… a monster. It wasn't because of Joffrey that he served loyally.

Snapping his fingers at Trant and Blount, they scrambled down the steps and began stripping the Kingsguard markers from Jamie's armor. "You are now a general in my army. Go forth and destroy the North as I should have done when I thought Robb Stark to be killed." Blood boiled within him. "Turn every settlement to the fire. Burn it all to ash!"

"No! You can't!" Cersei couldn't get the images from her mind as soon as her son said for Jamie to head north. Images of Jamie beheaded, impaled, a large dragon burning him alive at the hands of the Targaryen queen. He had barely survived one foray into the north. Breaking protocol, she climbed the steps and grabbed his shoulders. "Don't do this my son, do not risk your family…"

A backhanded slap sent her falling. "Do not touch me!" Joffrey snarled. "You may be my mother, but you are a mere mortal! I am a god!"

At the beginning of her son's reign, Cersei had seen his outbursts as those of a child - a cruel child, but one still innocent of the evil gripping the world. But now, one look in his eyes… not that she could see them directly anymore… only made it clear to her the monster that he had become. 'No! He is still my child. My eldest.' No mother stopped loving her child no matter what he became.

But Cersei was afraid of him, nonetheless.

"Shall I teach this one a lesson, not to disrespect her King?" From the growling in Meryn Trant's voice, it sounded like he'd enjoy it.

Before Jamie could do something incredibly stupid to protect her, it was the High Sparrow that interceded. "Discord among the righteous only benefits the wicked, all Highest." Humble, penitent before his god, the former nobleman knew the imperfect King only needed the right guiding hand. "The Queen Mother's heart is in the right place, so perhaps a private refresher on the true meaning of the faith is all that is needed." Still as a statue for agonizingly long minutes, Joffrey finally waved his clawed hands. Trant stepped away from Cersei, allowing Jamie to kneel next to her. "She should rest now, your highest."

"Of course." His tone had softened, mollified that the threats were ending. "Mother, see to it that you have that looked at."

It would be the only thing close to an apology Cersei knew would be given. "Thank you… all highest."

Turning to the High Sparrow to dismiss the meeting, Joffrey involuntarily staggered back. 'Here, he's here!' The ghostly vestige of Robert Baratheon. Instead of the mottled grey of a corpse, he was ethereal. Pale, but blood still dripped to the ground. "No." His voice was filled with terror. "No…"

"Woman born of storm, fair of eye…"

"It's her, isn't it?" All around him waited silently, breath bated with concern but no one willing to risk provoking his wrath. "The Dragon Queen."

"Golden face she sees, a realm divide."

Nearly falling over, only the helpful arms of Meryn Trant studied him. "Master of Whisperers. Where is the Dragon Queen."

"My little birds have her in Dragonstone, your highest. With her two children."

"Kill her. I want her dead! SHE MUST NEVER SEE ME!" If such a request puzzled those in the room, none voiced it. They knew better.

Qyburn allowed a smile. "I have already seen to it your highest. From a person desperate to prove his loyalty towards you."

"A great crime, to harm a woman and child," opined the High Sparrow. "But it is necessary for those that have defied the will of the Seven's chosen one on this earth." Nothing but the flickering candles answered him.

"This is suicide, my Lady."

It was still surreal to be called that - hells, it was still surreal for Tyene Sand to be in the very situation she was in. Staring at the stars through the vision slit, it truly hammered home how isolated and weak she was at the moment.

"We are having trouble with procuring replacements and reinforcements," said another one of her generals. In the chaos and vacuum that Tywin's march through Dorne had brought, most of the populace had flocked to Trystane's government - for security and bread if nothing else. What men and women they had were scattered among the wilderness in isolated hillside dugouts and tunnels such as this one where Tywin's men couldn't root them out. "How will we inspire the populace if you leave?"

"And how will we hope to win without allies?" she hissed back. "We were always loyal to the Targaryens. Now that the Dragon Queen has arrived in Westeros, she is the only hope to shake off the yoke."

It made her generals uneasy. "Our loyalty to you, as to your father, is unquestioned. But how can you place confidence in the family that betrayed Elia Martell for some wolf-bitch from the north?"

Tyene grimaced. "So we let the Lannisters, who killed Elia and her children and enslaved many Dornish, rule us because the Dragon Queen's brother fell in love with a northerner?" There was silence. "Can you transport me to Dragonstone?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"Then do it."

A loud moan left Dany's throat, mouth opened in a wide gasp. "Oh Jon, seven hells. Mmmm…"

Hair still tied in his bun, Jon poked out from his perch between her legs. "Did you say something, my Queen?" He was just as bare as she was.

Her eyes blazed dragonfire at him. "Get back down there, my King." Fingers curled into his raven locks and urged him back with the determined fury and passion of a dragon - back to the wondrous things he was doing with his mouth and tongue. As soon as the wet organ touched her even wetter core, Dany moaned loud enough that even the dragons fishing in the seas surrounding Dragonstone could hear. "My gods, how are you doing this to me?"

Jon couldn't help but smirk, licking up a trail along her slit. Such was their new routine since that first night at Winterfell - making up for lost time. They would retire to their chambers. Always together, their positions august enough not to raise protest along with the raised eyebrows, yet news of their betrothal helped smooth any issues. Once there they would undress the other, lovingly or frantically, always passionate. And then Jon would carry his betrothed to bed - or she would push him on the bed. This time instead of pushing inside her, Jon had the hungry urge to feast on her.

"Unnnhhh…" At first Dany did not have a clue as to what Jon was doing, kissing down her body. The Dothraki didn't do this, nor did those she knew in Essos. 'Gods, they are missing out.' His tongue parted through her folds in its mission. The heat ever present inside her rose to new heights. "Don't. Stop."

"You do not rule over this bed, your Grace," he said in his dark, husky wolf growl. Savoring her taste, Jon already knew he couldn't get enough of his dragon. Ygritte had been musky and delicious in her own way, but Daenerys was something else. Her moans spurred him forward, drove his lust and hunger. Spreading apart her folds, Jon plunged his tongue as deep as he could.

Daenerys was sure Balerion had enveloped her in a tongue of flame. A scream left her lips, fingers pulling so hard on Jon's hair that they freed his locks from the loose bun. The pleasure was so intense that she slipped into High Valyrian without even knowing it. "Kessa. Tolī. Oh Jon. Nyke jorrāelagon ziry." His tongue doubled its pace, Jon likely turned on from her babbling. Swiping over a particular spot inside her - one that never ceased to erupt dragonfire within her when they made love - Dany shattered to her one and only King. "JON!"

Lapping up the gush of wetness pouring out of Dany's core, Jon grinned in satisfaction. Nothing like making the indomitable Dragon Queen a limp rag to stroke one's ego. Quite a change from his normal stoic humility. 'Only for Dany,' he thought. Kissing her navel, he looked up to find one pale arm dashed about her face, mouth open in a silent gasp as she trembled from the aftershocks. "So was this to your Grace's satisfaction?"

"Gods, Jon." Able to open her eyes finally, they bored into her dragonwolf's grey orbs. "How did you learn to do that… so well?"

"The Lord's Kiss, you mean? All I need is the motivation, Daenerys Stormborn."

"Come here. You're too far away." Jon was happy to oblige, pulling himself up to her and placing a kiss over her mouth. Crushing their bodies tightly together, leg wrapped around his and arms looped over his back, Dany continued the languid kiss. "I love you, Jon."

"I love you too, Dany." Giving her a break before he would send her to the stars once more, Jon allowed the events of the day to fully sink in. "I really am a father…" He rolled over onto his back. The comfortable temperatures of the island, chilly but warm compared to the north, precluded his need for a blanket - goose down rather than the northern furs.

"Yes you are." Dany perched herself on her elbow, admiring the fine specimen that was the man she loved. "Two children and six dragons. They all love you, Jon."

That rare, loving smile crossed Jon's lips. "I love them too." He pushed back on his side and cupped Dany's cheek. "And their mother." Jon watched with rapture as she leaned into his palm, eyes fluttering in contented joy. "I will never leave any of you again. I promise."

When Dany thought he could never get any sexier or more amazing, her dragonwolf went and said something like that. "Together, my love. Forever." Arms pulling him close, Daenerys felt she couldn't stand another moment without his touch. "When I take back the Iron Throne from Joffrey, I want you by my side. To rule with me."

Jon sighed. "You don't have to. I never wanted even a lordship, let alone the crown." He looked at her. "You've planned so long to have the throne. Fought hard for it. It's yours."

"Jon…" The fact he would so willingly give her his birthright only proved to her that he was the man she needed. The King the realm needed. "My love, I don't want the throne unless you rule alongside me. The endless spokes of families on the wheel that keeps turning… we will break it. Together." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "Blood of my blood, it is the both of us that will leave this world better than the one we inherited. As equals."

"I never thought I would be… I was a mere bastard. Content to live at the Wall for the rest of my days. And now I'm the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms?" Pulling away, Dany saw insecurity, self-doubt in his eyes. "Do I really deserve it? I was merely Lord Commander and my men killed me for it."

"You do deserve it, Jon. There's no one who deserves it more." She kissed his cheek. "Rhaegar will learn to be a King from the best, for you already are a great leader, Jon." Lips placing a flurry of kisses on his cheeks, nose, eye, and forehead, Dany hugged Jon tightly. "I've been dreaming of this day. All four of our family, together… forever." She kissed him, cupping his face.

"Five," Jon mumbled against her mouth, mirroring her kiss. Feeling her pull back, a puzzled look in her violet orbs, Jon realized he hadn't told her. 'How did I not tell her?' He had planned to tell her the morning after the battle… but she beat him to it with the news of the twins. "There are five living Targaryens."

"Viserys is not a Targaryen." The Dragon Queen returned, face stony and voice tinged with anger. "As Queen, I've decided to revoke his legitimacy as punishment for his crimes. He is no Targaryen."

"Ugh…" Jon rolled his eyes. "First off, thank you for reminding me that I'm related to that slug." Dany snorted, amused. 'At least my father was a great man - and Dany…' He placed his palm on her soft cheek, stroking the milky skin with his thumb. "There are five Targaryens, my dragon. Your great-uncle Aemon."

Dany stared at him, mouth slack. "My great-uncle… Aegon V's brother?" Jon nodded. "H… how do you know him?"

Gently stroking her back, it brought Jon great joy to see his love reunited completely with a family long thought dead. 'Now I know why Maester Aemon always kept me close.' "Aemon was… well is the Maester at Castle Black. He's very old and essentially blind, but his mind is sharp and will strong. My…" Jon's breath hitched for a moment. "My uncle Benjen told him about my heritage, and he told me right before…" His eyes moved to the scar on his heart - where Dany rested her hand.

"I… I thought all Targaryens had been killed but Viserys and I…" Tears welled in Dany's eyes.

Jon kissed the tears away. "Aemon is coming down from Castle Black with Sam Tarly, a good friend of mine. You'll see him when we return." He leaned up to kiss her forehead. "He loves you, you know. Whatever information that came in from Meereen and Essos, he would pour over it."

"Our family lives." She had always thought that… given her brother's humiliating stain on the house, she and the twins were the last Dragons. Not anymore. She had her beloved dragonwolf, and now her great-uncle as well. "I love you so much, Jon." She buried her head in his dark, northern hair. "You've brought nothing but light and joy into my life since we've met."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Dany." Feeling her snuggle against him, Jon smiled. "You and Aemon will get along, and the same with Sam."

"Mmmm, are you and he close?"

"He's my best friend, at the wall. Sam was born of a noble house in the Reach, but his father hated him because he was bookish rather than athletic. He actually wasn't shocked of my parentage."

"And why is that, my love?"

At that moment Jon felt a chill on his skin, recalling that moment when he had faced a wight for the first time. It's mottled grey skin, glowing blue eyes. "One of the dead had gotten into the Lord Commander's quarters… Ser Jorah's father. I had lost my sword trying to defend against it, and the monster was strangling me." He felt his queen tighten her hold on him. "The Lord Commander then entered with Ghost, allowing me to break free, and I grabbed a lantern and managed to burn it alive… the fire didn't burn my hand."

Staring at him, Dany saw Jon in a new light - the same as she had when his… their daughters first showed themselves to her. "The unburnt." Just as she did, Jon had braved the flames and came out without a scratch. Blood of the dragon. "Fire made flesh." Taking his hand, Daenerys kissed the palm lovingly.

Jon smiled before fire blazed in her violet eyes and he soon found himself pinned to the bed. "Dany?"

Keeping his hands pinned above his head, Dany kissed Jon hard and moved to suck on his neck. "You and me, Jon." She bit his shoulder. "The Iron Throne is ours… We will rule together, for our family... all of us." Her lips returned to his. "My King." Jon flipped his betrothed over, the couple lost in their desire.