There was at least a small measure of comfort in knowing that he could prepare.

Weeks of digging and listening and coercing had uncovered something realm altering in the worst possible way.

Stannis Baratheon and Jon Arryn were as they appeared, men that did not like to deal with backdoor meetings and the typical greasing of palms that had been the capital standard for so long.

They were looking into something most peculiar.

While neither could really do anything about the acts themselves, the pair had taken to tracking the kings whereabouts. More specifically the women he spent time with. The Master of Ships and Hand to the King were tracking the bastard children.

At first, Varys could not possibly understand why.

This was, of course, until he started doing the same thing. Much more discreetly, the Master of Whispers went to see as many as he could track down. The disguises varied by the day. He once even ended up in an establishment owned by Littlefinger.

The common threads at each stop were fairly predictable. The location would have wine, and there would be a woman with a child of the same coloring. No matter what, the child was always black of hair and sported those electric blue eyes that the Baratheons were known for.

It had taken more than a few of these visits for things to make sense, and once they had… Varys immediately wrote a scroll to be handed over and anonymously delivered to Winterfell.

When a little bird came to him and whispered of a secret meeting between lions, Varys had opened his eyes.

King Robert's children were golden haired and green eyed.

Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen, each little lion replicas. The curve of their jaw, the brow, even those smiles were all Lannister.

Granted the smile that Joffrey graced the world with was more along the lines of his grandfather, meaning that he looked like someone who was plotting the destruction of entire families. The younger children though, they had the same smile that Varys could recall seeing on Ser Jaime those first few months of his being named to the kingsguard. It was the smile of Joanna Lannister through and through.

Varys did not claim to know what the men looking into this were seeking to do if this information had been found, but the results would be nothing short of war.

To be honest, the spider berated himself for not catching on earlier. His mind had been too occupied by other events and people. The threat of war had been rising ever so steadily over the years, and he'd believed it would have come from a more monetary transgression rather than the queen lying about who had fathered her children. This was the fast track to open war.

And there was no doubt about what would happen if the children were suddenly proclaimed as bastards. Lord Tywin had finally brought his family to the top of the food chain, Lannister blood flowed in the royal family and held the crown.

King Robert's reaction would be ever so predictable.

The man would turn red in face, howling in rage as he called for the heads of his wife and her brother. And when Tywin inevitably secreted them away, banners would be raised and blood would be spilled.

The more delicate question to be dealt with, was figuring out what Littlefinger planned to do with the information that he himself had found. Being the owner of an establishment where the king had fathered one of his bastards, surely the minor lord had noticed the same thing and had come to the same conclusion.

Varys had tread especially lightly in dealing with this next issue, as Littlefinger was the next best spymaster in King's Landing.

Petyr Baelish was born in the Vale of Arryn to a minor lord of relatively new standing, having only gained the lordship in the war of the Ninepenny Kings. His quick wit was apparent even from a young age, which often got him into trouble.

After a time, Littlefinger had been sent to foster in Riverrun. The information from this period had been easy to come by at first, it was only the more important details that had taken more careful prodding to be uncovered.

Hoster Tully's children became quick friends with Lord Baelish, though it was apparent that he favored one in particular. The lady Catelyn.

Some of the information was muddy, claims coming from differing sources and such, but this much was clear.

Littlefinger had lain with at least one of the Tully sisters. There were some that had heard the man claim to have taken the maidenhead of both, while others disputed this due to his drunken state and clear infatuation with Catelyn.

As the story goes, a feast was held in Riverrun, with Littlefinger dancing with the now Lady Stark for six songs. Some say he attempted to kiss her with the lady denying him, others say he whispered something into her ear that she found disagreeable.

Whatever the case, the young man went deep into his cups. The long time servants in Riverrun had mentioned hearing his calling out the name of the elder sister in the night.

Varys did not believe that to be the actual happenings. Instead, he held the belief that the younger sister Lysa had been the one in his room that night, having shown to fancy young Petyr for some time before then.

In his mind, this was further proven after the duel between the Late Lord Brandon Stark and Baelish. Lady Lysa had been noted to remain by his side during recovery, and announcing an aborted pregnancy to her father after Petyr had been sent back home.

There were a few questions that remained.

Had Lysa Arryn continued this affair after her marriage to Jon Arryn and moving to King's Landing?

Did Littlefinger still love Catelyn Stark?

But most importantly, how would the information of the King's supposed children help Petyr Baelish move up the ladder?

Varys hated having unknown variables. He liked the predictable. And if he wanted to keep the participants in his scheme predictable, they had to be kept at least partially informed and able to prepare.

Like Ned Stark.


Jon Snow

Blinking his eyes to adjust to the bright light, Jon found himself in that summer landscape once more. The scenery may have shifted over time, but the climate had not. The sun beat down on his skin with a heat he'd never felt before having these dreams.

A part of him liked feeling something so foreign, but his body was accustomed to the cold, and this heat was overbearing.

The golden light faded and allowed him to see, opening up to a similar yet different landscape.

There was a tall tree that Jon didn't recognize in a somewhat small patch of grass amongst the cobblestone.

This was all that Jon paid attention to, the horizon of towers and other buildings lost in the foray as he set his eyes on the beautiful woman that had haunted his dreams.

She changed as he did over the years, though she was quite obviously a few years older. In this dreamscape, Jon didn't care. This was his reprieve from the life of a bastard, his paradise. No one brought him down here, no one looked at him as though he were a stain upon the Starks of Winterfell.

Standing there with a smile upon her lips, was the woman that he imagined Rhaenys Targaryen would have been. There was no reason for him to be dreaming of her for all this time, but it happened anyway.

Brown hair falling down her back in silky waves. Copper eyes so expressive that the ability to speak seemed to pale in comparison.

Jon assumed that his mind had conjured up a style of dress to please both his growing urges of female companionship, and his northern sensibilities.

The bright red garment had to be made of silk, flowing and thin and transparent under the direct light. The shape of her alone was enticing.

Jon had seen women in states of undress before, mainly during his walks through Wintertown. Few and far between were the women that compared to her figure.

With the sun beating down on her from behind, Jon could see the shape of her legs, long and shapely. Her hips pressed against the dress as it cut in at the waist, the dip of her stomach before widening again at her chest.

Jon tried not to stare at the beautiful well endowed dream woman, and failed more often than not. There was something about her that Jon couldn't turn away from. A pull of something divine or mystical, he was sure. It had to be all in his head, because he had never seen someone so beautiful.

Her smile seemed to stretch as his gaze lingered, her eyes crinkling in amusement with the way he lingered on specific parts of her body.

This dream would be different in more ways than one, first proven as Jon heard footsteps from the right.

Turning towards it, Jon was quick to mirror the slack jawed expression of the one he saw.

Silver-blonde hair that fell to mid back, lively violet eyes that were brighter than the only other pair he'd ever seen, but that wasn't saying much given Arthur Dayne's normal disposition.

She was slender, petite, shorter than him. But gods above she was just as beautiful as Rhaenys.

This girl looked to be of an age with him. Her clothing was more reserved, a thicker dress that only let the smallest of shadows pass through it. Though in this heat, he could only wonder how she could stand it, the beads of sweat were already starting to form on his forehead.

The new young woman before him was obviously a Targaryen, and he had a guess as to who, but not the why.

Daenerys Targaryen and her brother Viserys were known to have escaped to Essos, but why would he be dreaming of her?

'Probably because Theon was bragging about having two whores in Wintertown last week.'

Neither Jon or Robb had believed the Ironborn, but they let him think they did.

Was that really it? Had Theon gotten into his head so much that he was now dreaming of two Princesses? It was the only reason he could come up with.

He'd never been a prideful person, wanting to get one over on somebody just for the sake of claiming so. But maybe he didn't even truly know himself, because here he was dreaming of two beautiful young women.

As per usual, Rhaenys' mouth moved with no words making it to his ears, and it saddened him.

The olive skinned beauty turned towards Daenerys and they exchanged a few words.

This upset him. He wanted to be able to at least talk with them, especially considering the dream didn't start with any of the other acts that Theon had bragged about.

"I wish I could hear you." His head dropped as the words come through in a sigh.

He looked up a moment later, only to find Rhaenys staring at him with her hands covering her mouth.

Daenerys spoke more words to Rhaenys that never reached him, to which she nodded as her shoulders shook and her eyes teared.

"Are you alright?" Jon had no reason to believe she could hear anything he said, but it felt necessary to ask.

To his surprise, Rhaenys nodded her head, hands still clasped over her mouth.

"You can hear me?" She nodded again, bringing her hands down and letting Jon see what appeared to be happy tears running down her cheeks if that brilliant smile was anything to go by.

With Jon and Daenerys both standing still, shocked at the events taking place before them, though for different reasons, Rhaenys approached Jon.

The steps were small at first, unsure and timid, but they gained in stride as her emotions overrode the shock.

Before he knew it, Jon was wrapped in an embrace full of warmth. It was as though her skin carried all the warmth of the sun, and he felt the bright and joyous heat flooding through her.

Being a bit taller than himself, Rhaenys had wrapped one arm around his upper back and the other to the back of his head, pulling him face first into her chest and leaning down to rest her cheek on top of his head.

She squeezed him tightly for a time before pulling back.

The light around him dimmed, then brightened to a level that made his sight blur, before returning to normal.

He knew the signs of his awakening, and it would be soon.

Rhaenys seemed to recognize it as well, and there was clearly something on her mind.

Jon was never given the time to ask, as Rhaenys moved her hands to grip at his tunic and pull them together for a kiss.

Having only experienced a kiss from one woman, which he later found out had been paid for, Jon didn't know how to respond for a moment.

It passed, and Jon felt himself being drawn into her in a way he'd never experienced.

He felt a tongue upon his lips as the light shined brightly once more. Rhaenys pulled back just enough so that their lips were separated, but Jon was able to feel her lips moving as she tried in vain to speak to him.

The moment was over, and the light carried him into a darkness he'd come to recognize. It was always the same whenever he dreamed of her.

Upon waking, Jon had always wished that he could will himself back into the dream to be with her. It hadn't worked then, and it wouldn't work now, no matter how badly he wanted to continue that experience.

All he could do was go about his day as though he hadn't dreamt of kissing her. Of wanting to just run away from all that he knew to keep a hold on that feeling of warmth.

There was very little he wouldn't give to find out that she was still alive, and then take Lyanna with him to find her. Leaving Arya would hurt, both him and his sister. But she had the love and acceptance that he craved. She would recover from his leaving Winterfell in time.

'Even in my head I sound like a love struck fool with their head in the clouds. All for a girl that has been dead for my entire life.'

When out into that perspective, it sounded pathetic. Pining after a dead girl, now two apparently, and both were former royalty. Jon needed a distraction.

Getting up from his bed, feeling the draft through the window that sat just above, he went to uncover the treasure he'd only shared with Arya.

The dragon egg.

Prying open the floor board with a knife on the desk, Jon knew to be careful with the egg…

Only to nearly drop it as the heat surprised him. As it passed through his hand, cutting his index finger with the tip of a scale and barely managing to grasp it with his ring and pinky fingers, Jon looked at the fossilized egg.

Once firmly in his grasp Jon looked at his finger, seeing the line of crimson dribble down, and the smear along the digit.

But once he checked the egg, there was no sign of it. The egg was as shiny and pristine as ever, perhaps even more so as the sunlight came through the window and reflected so easily onto his ceiling.


Rhaenys Targaryen

She had never thought that just hearing his voice would bring her to tears, but it had.

And they didn't stop as the dream did.

Dany had awoken at the same time as herself, promptly coming to ask if that was indeed the brother she had spoken of so frequently. Upon seeing the state that Rhaenys was in, she knew the answer.

With her face buried in her hands, Rhaenys sobbed uncontrollably. She didn't even know why.

It could have been relief from finally hearing him speak. It could have been out of frustration that he hadn't been able to hear her.

No matter the cause, she seemed incapable of stopping it, and Dany took it upon herself to climb into her nieces bed and hold her until these emotions passed.

It took several minutes, but the tears finally left. Daenerys was just about to speak when Rhaenys beat her to it.

"That was him. I heard Jon speak to me."

His voice, it reminded her of her father Rhaegar. The accent was obviously different, and she likened that to his environment and the influence of his mother. But the solemn, kind tone, it was the same as she remembered from days long passed.

She couldn't remember much of him now, but Rhaegar's voice would forever be recognizable to her.

The dreams had been more frequent lately, now coming at least once a week, for which she was grateful.

But at the same time she disliked it. To see him was a blessing, but the silence was horrid.

What had happened to change this? What miracle had been bestowed to them? She didn't care. If it came from the gods, she would praise them, if it was fate then she wouldn't know who to thank.

"He seems… lonely." Dany spoke carefully.

It was in his eyes, as it always is. Those expressive stormy eyes that were such a mix of his parents. That thundercloud grey and the violet bolts of lightning.

Breathtaking. There was no other way to describe it.

"A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing." Rhaenys had said this to Dany more frequently as of late.

There was silence s Dany and Rhaenys both stewed in their thoughts until…

"At least he's pretty." Dany saw it fit to try and loosen the tension with a joke.

Rhaenys smiled towards her young aunt.

"That he is."

Rhaenys had never given her thoughts on this to anyone before, but just the raven curls on Jon's head somehow managed to be prettier than most women she'd seen her in Essos. Again this was something that their shared lineage delivered. Valyrians were a beautiful people as apparent by the Westerosi descendents.

Now more than ever, she wished they had been able to make some sort of progress towards heading home. But circumstances hadn't allowed it. There was only the most. Barebones of plans in place that would still take years to enact properly.

To be honest, Rhaenys wasn't sure she could wait that long.


Short chapter, but my initial plan would have had it around 12-15k and I just don't have the time to get something like that out right now.

Next chapter will probably be the rest of what was intended. The wolves and the fire.