Chainmail clinking as he raced through the tiled corridors, the sight upon entering the room was worse than he feared. Bruises littered her pale skin, joined by sharp cuts that had been sliced through both flesh and the white nightgown draped over her body. "My Queen…"
"Fetch the maester!" Ser Jaime barked, cradling the poor woman in his arms. "Now!" Normally no one would take orders from the junior-most member of the Kingsguard, but this was not a normal situation.
Beginning to race out and comply with the request, the knight took one last look at his Queen's face. Alabaster cheeks red from anguish, tearstains down her face. Violet eyes clouded over with fear and a deep, piercing sorrow…
Ser Barristan Selmy would never forget that face. Never forget the state of the kind Queen Rhaella in the days leading up to the tourney where Robert's Rebellion had truly begun. It haunted him for nearly two decades.
And the ghost of his Queen had returned again - in the humble form of a tiny little servant girl.
His mind kept saying that his memory was playing tricks with him. That as Robert grew more and more out of control with Jon Arryn's death, with the Crown Prince's cruelty and madness growing, a sort of wishful thinking had emerged. That he saw one of the two people he had actually been proud of serving under in the faces of random servant girls. Wishing by the grace of the gods that he could find a Targaryen he could right his wrongs. Starting to go mad with depression and regret…
As he strolled through the courtyard, off duty and needing to clear his head, Barristan stilled. There she was again. Bucket in her arms with water sloshing within. Walking towards the kitchens from the well… her Valyrian features prominent in spite of the dark brown hair. He had inquired about her, learning from the other servants she was from Lys but the look was just too uncanny.
This mere servant looked just like Rhaella Targaryen. The Queen he had served.
And Queen Rhaella had a daughter...
No chance this was just some coincidence, not with the resemblance just so blatant. Sword clinking against his bronzed armor, he followed the girl. Falling in mere yards behind her. Wanting to know more, to ask her for the truth of why someone who could be the daughter of the Targaryen Queen was in Westeros. The girl looked over her shoulder at that moment, violet eyes - Targaryen violet eyes - finding him and widening. Beginning to scurry around the corner of one of the stone buildings lining the inner wall of the castle. Barristan trotted after, not wanting to lose her…
It happened quickly. One moment the old knight had been turning the corner and the next he was slammed against the wall of the base of a tower. The only light coming from a single torch as the door to the outside slapped shut. Blade at his throat. "It would be easy," came the gravelly northern brogue of the Lord of Winterfell. "Man goes for a ride in the wolfswood. Man doesn't come out."
Barristan gulped, in disbelief that Eddard Stark was threatening him with an ignoble death. Then again, not really surprised at that… "Would you really kill me to protect Rhaella's daughter?" If Lord Stark was truly hiding her under Robert's nose, he would - but Barristan didn't wish to dwell on that.
If it surprised Ned that Barristan had figured it out, he didn't show it. "You are the second person I've been willing to gut like a fish to protect her." He allowed himself an uncharacteristically dark smirk, watching Barristan finally feel a sense of fear.
"Promise me, Ned. Promise me."
For Lyanna, he would do anything. Even act as a common cutthroat.
But he wasn't a monster. "You are also the second man of whose help I need. Whose help Daenerys Targaryen needs."
"So it's true. Rhaella's daughter is here."
"Aye. Rhaegar's sister." Ned's eyebrow rose. "Tell me, Ser Barristan. If you could, would you change what happened at the Trident long ago?"
He closed his eyes, remembering that horrid day. "I'd have taken Robert's blow… so that Rhaegar could live.
Ned smiled. "Good." He let the knife leave Barristan's throat, giving the old knight breathing room. "Yet Barristan Selmy will still be going for a ride in the Wolfswood." Barristan responded only with a raised eyebrow.
Running a gentle hand along her limp son's hair, Catelyn knew she looked like the worst of hells. Face pale, skin unwashed, eyes sunken… the tolls of staying by Bran's bedside had affected her greatly - yet she stayed. Refused offers to leave. Refused other nurses. Refused all but modest meals in her dedication to her son. The only other with similar dedication was resting on the bed, Summer's snout perched on Bran's still form.
Everyone had been by to give their support or see Bran, Ned and Robb struggling to keep the tears from flowing while Sansa, Rickon, and even Arya failed at that venture. All gave their love and kindness to their brother's fight to stay alive… except one. Jon.
With plenty of time to reflect, Bran having not woken since Hodor brought him back to Winterfell after his fall, Catelyn's mind kept revolving back to Jon Snow. Her husband's bastard. 'Not his bastard.' Memories of that day sixteen years ago kept repeating whenever she closed her eyes. How Ned came back from the South, a pink baby bundled in a blanket in his arms. How he carried him reverently, as much in love with him as he was with little Robb. Catelyn hated that child, hated Jon with every fiber of her being. Hated the reminder of how her beloved Ned was seduced by some southerner, and the love he had for the child stoked jealousy that he loved her as well.
But it was all a lie. The truth felt surreal. In all her life, she was in the company of the rightful…
A knock on the door startled her. Catelyn looked up, only to spot the object of her thoughts. "May I enter, my Lady?" Jon Snow asked, his face supplicant and tone respectful. Unable to come up with an answer, Catelyn just nodded.
Watching him stride towards Bran's bedside, Catelyn looked him over as if she had never seen him before. With his coal-black hair, grey eyes, and sturdy features Jon definitely took from his Stark side. And the way he loved his family, speaking words of affection and brotherly love for the still sleeping Bran… the lady saw much of Ned in him. Lyanna. But there was an almost regal air… a martial prowess and innate confidence that was just starting to prop up. 'His other side.' The one that stunned her and disconcerted her the most. It hadn't been there before, before the Targaryen princess. Jon had been sullen, withdrawn, unsure of himself. Was that because of her? Regret pulsed in the back of her mind.
The contemplation was once again broken when Jon kissed Bran's brow, moving to head out. "Jon," she called, his name not tinged with bile for once. The lad stopped, glancing at her puzzled. He sensed it too. "Thank you, for coming. Bran would welcome it."
Modestly, Jon merely nodded his head. "It is no trouble. He is my brother." His response only made her pain worse, and his leaving left her alone with her thoughts.
Catelyn looked to the ceiling, as if her eyes centered on heaven itself. "You can count on me, Lyanna." For the first time in sixteen years, Catelyn Tully Stark let go of her anger.
It was a quiet night. The King was leaving in two days, Ned Stark with them. Jon was heading north to the Wall, somewhere his Uncle Benjen informed him he would be safe from anything that happened in the south - one year before, such would be all that Jon could think about. Believing it to be all he wanted. But he had changed. All he ever wanted was in his arms at that very moment.
"I can't bear you going there," Daenerys murmured, holding him tighter. Ear pressed to his chest to listen to his heartbeat. "All alone, without the love you deserve."
Jon pressed a kiss to her hair, hand splayed on her back. "I'll have my uncle with me." Even he knew his words were hollow. "You're all that matters to me. I need you to be safe."
She rolled till their eyes met. Hers filled with tears… and determination. "I will return, Jon. With an army at my back, taking down the horrid usurper. When I do, you'll be my King. Ruling by my side."
Smiling softly, cupping her cheek, Jon only kissed her. It was never to be. He wasn't worthy of such an honor, but Jon knew that she would be the greatest of rulers. A true Queen, and he someone who would serve her till his dying day.
Reaching into the pocket of her nightshirt, Dany drew out a chain. Made of a polished silver, at the end dangled a small pendant. One of a three-headed dragon. "Jon, I want you to have this." She pressed it into his hands. "It was my brother's. Rhaegar's…"
"Dany…"
"I know he isn't your family's favorite person, but this pendant was the last thing I have left of my family. The only thing I ever kept that Viserys didn't sell for food." Tears fell down her face. "I want you to have it, so that no matter where you are you'll know I'm with you. As I have the sword."
Close to tears himself, Jon merely took the pendant. Draping the chain around his neck with a look of pure love in his eyes.
"I love you, Jon Snow," she ground out, sobbing. Daenerys pressed her lips against his hungrily. Passionately. Desperately. "No matter where you are, be it in Winterfell, the Wall, or the frozen wastes far to the north, know that I love you."
He squeezed her tightly, rolling her around and pressing his skin flush against hers. He would not cry, fighting the tears threatening to fall. But when Jon spoke, the emotion hoarse in his voice was unmistakable. "Daenerys." All her kisses were returned, their tongues clashing. "I love you too. No matter where we are, I always will." Fresh tears escaping her, Dany simply melted into their ardor.
Each kiss, each caress brought out a lusty moan. A quiver of muscles. A tingling of skin. Her mind was a complete blank. Clouded by sheer lust. Complete adoration of the man before her. Daenerys knowing that she might never see him again - at the very best seperated for years - it drove her passion higher and higher. "Jon…" she murmured into his mouth, fingers going for his breeches. Needing him bare before her.
Pushing her back against the wall, pinning her there, Jon plundered his lover's mouth. Long ago, he had vowed to never take a woman. To never sire another bastard named Snow. All his vows and promises evaporated in the face of Daenerys Targaryen. His hand kneading her breasts through the thin nightdress, her soft touch leaving sparks along his skin, Jon felt a fire welling inside her at every heated look she sent. A steady drumbeat of words roaring from his soul.
Plunder.
Claim.
Take.
Worship.
Mine.
MINE!
Daenerys smirked against Jon's mouth, wrapping her palm around his cock. The delicious member that brought her so much pleasure - one she had claimed as hers and hers alone. "Be mine, Jon Snow," she murmured, tongue swiping at his lips. "As long as it takes."
"Aye. I am. You too."
"I'm yours." She mewled as he ripped her nightgown in two, desperate to feel her skin on his. At that moment their bloodlines mattered not. Their titles or lack thereof washed away as they simply saw themselves as young lovers. Jon picking her up in his arms and carrying her to the bed. Daenerys' heart bursting with love as they fell into the sheets.
The two lovers moved in tandem, one meeting the thrusts of the other. Tongues danced, hands roamed, and skin pressed against skin as neither even dared to allow any form of separation. Their mouths had joined at the beginning and never once broke. Only for a quick gulp of needed air would they part, lips crashing back into nirvana right after. They needed this. Needed it more than to quench their thirst or abate their hunger. Needed the closeness.
"Oh, Jon," Dany moaned into her lover's mouth as he shifted angle, hitting into a spot that made her see dragonfire. In the last few months since they abandoned modesty and lost themselves in each other, her wolf had grown from a cautious virgin into quite the skilled man. "Ah! Please." She bit his lower lip, not complaining.
Grunting, the northerner's hair spilled over his eyes as he continued to thrust inside his dragon. Chain dangling around his neck to brush against her skin. "So tight, Dany." Her walls tightened around him like a vice, sucking him deeper. It felt angelic, the greatest pleasure of his life. "Fuck yes, so amazing."
"Yes. Fuck me hard, Jon!" Words were lost to the both of them as he pounded ever harder. Making her see stars. But it wasn't enough. It could never be enough. Growling into his mouth, Dany suddenly flipped them. Arousal pooling even hotter at the mix of surprise and desire in Jon's almost black eyes. "Look at me, Jon."
He gulped, grunting as she began riding him. Taking his length deep inside her. Fingers dancing along his chest. Resisting the urge to close his eyes, Jon kept them on the twin pools of violet.
Dany grabbed his hands and put them over her breasts, sighing happily when they automatically squeezed them. "Remember me, Jon. Remember what we have."
"I will…" it was torture what she was doing, but oh did he love it. "Gods… I will always…"
"We will be together again… oh, Jon…" She couldn't stand it, ready to erupt. "I will come back to you."
"So will… Dany… I… Dany!"
"Jon!"
Climax ripping through the both of them, Daenerys fell upon him. Breathing shallow as they tried to come down from their high. Even those moments alone, the two immediately being drawn in for another languid kiss.
Detaching her kiss swollen lips from his, Daenerys surged forward and latched onto his neck, sucking hard. "Remember this, Jon Snow," she kissed against his chest and belly. "Remember our love. Remember me." She would remember him - till her dying day Daenerys Targaryen would remember her wolf.
Jon weaved her hands . "I will. Always, my love," he groaned as she enveloped him in her mouth, promising to himself that he would return the favor. Each closing their eyes as they tumbled into sheer bliss...
"Here." Barristan felt a coinpurse drop into his outstretched palm. "This is enough gold to get you to Qohor. Lord Manderly knows of the arrival of someone 'Important to the grain shipment' arriving in White Harbor soon. He will provide a ship to Pentos."
"You've truly thought of everything, Lord Stark," Barristan chuckled. His gaze was drawn to the young lovers several yards away, embracing tightly in the dark. Mouths locked as they shared one last moment of passion. It truly warmed his heart. "Are you sure my true whereabouts won't be discovered?"
Ned shook his head. "The hue and cry was intense, and I made sure your trail led to the west, not the east. By the time they discover the body in the woods, you'll be in White Harbor."
Nodding, the old knight mounted his horse. He, Princess Daenerys, and her handmaiden would be travelling without much in the way of baggage. It would be quicker than the royal procession, which was what Barristan counted on. The sooner they were in the wilds of Essos the better.
Lord Stark clearly wished to leave the couple their moment, but as the night grew older and older it was time. "Jon."
The single word was enough. Both knew what it meant. Tears in her eyes, Daenerys kissed him one last time. "Be here for me, my love."
Jon stroked his cheek, committing the beautiful face to memory. "I will. I love you so much, Daenerys."
"I love you too."
Both old fighters felt the tears fall from their eyes.