111The blade drives the air from Jon's lungs in a heaving gasp.
"For the Watch," Bowen said solemnly, his voice as icy cold as the bitter air around them.
The pain of the wound worsened as Bowen pulled the blade out, but Jon had no time to process that as another blade was driven into him.
"For the Watch," Alliser said.
He should have killed Thorne when he had the chance. His blade was replaced by another, and then another. The pain faded with the fourth one, replaced by a bitter cold unlike any Jon had ever known. He grabbed futilely at the fourth man, whose face he couldn't even recognize as he went into shock. Falling to his knees, he looked up at a younger face than the other and felt pain again at the sense of betrayal that overtook him.
"For the Watch," the final man said, driving his blade straight into Jon's heart.
With his life's blood pouring forth onto the snowy ground, Jon Snow, bastard son of Ned Stark and Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, fell in a heap and knew no more.
"YOU FAILED!" a deep, rumbling, and furious voice bellowed.
"What?" Jon asked, trying to make sense of the unending darkness of the void he was floating aimlessly in.
He's so cold, colder than he ever was at the Wall, colder even than he was as his blood drained from him.
"Where am…" Jon went to ask.
"BE SILENT," the voice said, cutting him off. "I SHOULD LEAVE YOU HERE, IN THIS UNENDING PERDITION, BUT I'M NOT FINISHED WITH YOU YET."
"Who?" Jon asked, his mind slow to grasp much of anything at that moment. He didn't feel drunk, but the effects on his mind were similar.
"LET'S SEE IF YOU CAN'T YET BE USEFUL," the voice said.
Suddenly, a dim light appeared to cut through the inky blackness all around him. It was faint, white, and shaped like a rope of sorts, reaching from his chest all the way down to the bottom of the chasm he was floating above. A blade of fire came out then and sliced clean through it, making Jon scream. The pain was worse than any of the blows he'd suffered as he was murdered, and he felt like he couldn't breathe.
"UNTETHERED, YOU'LL BE ABLE TO ACT FREELY WHERE I'M SENDING YOU," the voice said. "DO NOT FAIL AGAIN."
Jon managed to inhale, only to scream again as he was hurled with great speed through the endless void. Myriad lights appeared all around him as he flew through the air, and as he was sent hurtling forward, only thought passed through his mind.
"What new hell is this day bringing to me?"
Rhaenyra smiled to herself as she flew through the air on Syrax. She loved moments like this, where it was just her and her little lady flying through the air. With the wind in her hair and no obstacles before her, she could forget about everything. She could forget about King's Landing and all the vipers that surrounded her father, just waiting to strike at her. She could forget about Alicent and her unceasing desire to replace Rhaenyra with her son, just as she had replaced her royal mother. She could even forget about the fact that she had been forced to wed perhaps the only man in the Seven Kingdoms who didn't desire her, even though said man was flying on his own dragon not far from her.
"I never have to worry about you, Syrax," she whispered softly, smiling down at the bright yellow scales of her beloved dragon. "I don't have to pretend with you or hold anything back. You're my dearest friend, you know?"
How sad that was. She had her ladies-in-waiting and a growing friendship with her cousin Laena, but the only one she could truly rely on was the dragon she'd named. Her dear companion, whom she'd been riding for about a decade at that point, was her most loyal supporter and most trusted confidant.
As the Princess of Dragonstone pondered her morose thoughts, she was so focused that she almost missed the sudden appearance of bright, multi-colored lights just a few feet to her right. As they grew brighter, she noticed them and turned to look, staring in confusion at the bizarre sight. Just as she was about to order Syrax to turn and get closer so she could investigate the lights, they flared brightly enough that she needed to close her eyes, and as they were scrunched shut, she heard the distinct sound of a man screaming in terror. Opening her eyes, she gasped as she saw a man begin tumbling through the air from the spot where the odd lights had been.
"Syrax aderī!"Rhaenyra ordered, and her dragon dove towards the man.
She opened her maw wide, and when Rhaenyra realized that her dragon was about to breath fire, she shrieked, "Daor!"
Syrax let out a confused-sounding huff but obeyed, continuing her rapid descent towards the man.
"If you can hear me, I'm going to have my dragon fly under you so I can catch you on her saddle!" Rhaenya shouted.
Tugging on the reins as Syrax descended under the plummeting man, she managed to get the yellow dragon to fly right under him, and her eyes bulged as she noticed for the first time that he was entirely naked.
"What in the…" she went to ask as he landed carefully in the saddle next to her, clinging to the leather like he'd die without it.
He was beautiful in a way no man she'd ever laid eyes on was. Tall and broad with powerful-looking muscles, he was bull-like and huge. He had a head of brown curls, and yet his face had distinctly Valyrian features that reminded her of her uncle. His jaw was square, his cheekbones prominent, his nose straight and long, and his lips full and eminently kissable. His most startling feature was his eyes, which were so dark that they seemed black, yet in the bright light of the clear day, they seemed to have notes of deep purple to them.
The two of them stared at each other in silence, each one seeming to be as shocked as the other by the strange turn of events. Rhaenyra forced herself, after a moment, to look away from his hypnotizing eyes, only to regret it immediately as she glanced down at what turned out to truly be his most startling feature.
"By the gods!" she exclaimed in her mind, turning crimson as she forced herself to look back at his face.
"Que...Queen Daenerys?" he asked before promptly passing out.
"Daenerys?" Rhaenyra wondered to herself.
It was in that moment that she recollected herself and realized how bad this would look to anyone who happened to see her. She was alone with a naked man atop her dragon. She could only imagine what bile Alicent would spew about this if she learned of it. Looking around frantically, she breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted Laenor in the distance and bade Syrax fly in his direction.
"Laenor!" she shouted once she was close enough.
"What?" Laenor asked.
"Follow me; I need to talk to you in private!" Rhaenyra commanded, and she guided Syrax towards a small islet just north of Dragonstone.
The big rock was completely unusable for most things, but it could fit two mid-sized dragons on it comfortably and was, most importantly, not within any common fishing spots. If she wanted to unload her strange naked man onto Seasmoke, that was the simplest place to do so.
"What's going on?" Laenor asked as he landed next to her, his eyes widening as he spotted her nude companion.
"I saw this man falling through the air and caught him," Rhaenya replied.
"Shit," Laenor muttered. "He must have been picked up by one of the wild dragons and dropped. Is he alive?"
"He's breathing," Rhaenyra replied. "He was conscious when I caught him, though he passed out soon afterward. He's not wearing any clothes."
"Yes, I can see that," Laenor said, unabashedly looking the naked man up and down.
"I can't be caught with him," Rhaenya said. "Help me get him onto Seasmoke and fly him back to the castle. I can get Maestar Gerardys to look him over and question him when he wakes."
"If he's unharmed, surely we could just drop him off in the village," Laenor said.
"If he truly was tossed through the air by a dragon, I need a description," Rhaenyra said, not wanting to mention the strange lights or the fact that she was pretty sure dragons had nothing to do with this just yet. "I am the Princess of Dragonstone, and its people are my responsibility."
"As you will," Laenor sighed. "Help me with him, will you? He looks about as big as that hunk of beef you call your sworn shield."
He did actually remind her a bit of Ser Harwin, and thinking of him while she had this even more gorgeous, naked man next to her was the last thing she needed in that moment. Getting the unconscious man out of Syrax's saddle and into Seasmoke's was a challenge, but together they managed it, and soon enough, Laenor was able to fly him to the castle.
Maestar Gerardys was bewildered by what Laenor told him when he claimed to have been the one who caught him mid-fall, but recovered quickly and examined him.
"The man has the gods' own luck, princess," the maestar chuckled as he emerged from the room he'd been given. "To survive such an encounter without a scratch is nothing short of miraculous. He was lucky you happened to be flying in the area, my lord."
"As soon as he wakes, I want to be alerted," Rhaenyra said. "I want the description of the dragon who did this."
"Your concern does you credit, princess, but, if I may, do you intend to hunt for the dragon alone with Syrax?" Gerardys asked, his voice laced with concern.
"There's no need to write to my father and inform him that I've gone mad," Rhaenrya said dryly. "If it comes to that, I'll call in my uncle and perhaps my cousin Laena. Caraxes would be a match for anyone but the cannibal, and even that old beast pales next to Vhagar."
The truth was that the Cannibal was probably a match for Vhagar, but Rhaenyra knew perfectly well that no dragon was involved in this and no such hunt would take place.
"I took the liberty of having him bound, princess," Ser Harwin said.
"What?" Rhaenyra asked. "Why would you do that?"
"The man in there was picked up by a dragon, presumably as he stumbled out of a brothel given his nudity, flown into the air, and dropped," Ser Harwin explained. "I've seen men react...poorly after waking in the aftermath of lesser traumas than that. If you want to question him, we don't want him hurting himself in his panic."
"I…" Rhaenyra trailed off, realizing that she had no idea about such things. "I will yield to your experience, Ser. Just don't take such initiative in the future without discussing it with me."
"Yes, Princess," Ser Harwin said. "I left one of his arms free so he could feel for himself that he's unharmed."
"Thank you," Rhaenyra said.
"Ah!" a voice came from the room.
"It would seem he's woken up," Laenor murmured.
"For the watch," the final man spat as he drove his blade into Jon's heart.
"Ah!" Jon screamed as he woke, struggling against the ropes holding his legs and one of his arms to the frame of a bed.
The frame was ornately cut out of expensive-looking wood, and he instantly knew that he wasn't at Castle Black. His hand flew to his bare chest, feeling for the stab wounds that he knew should be there, and his brown furrowed in confusion as he felt nothing but skin, muscle, and bone.
"What in the world?" he asked as his heart raced in his chest.
"Ah, you're awake," a beautiful voice said, and Jon's breath hitched as he took in the sight of the most stunning woman he'd ever seen in his life.
Her long silver-gold hair was tied in a single braid that she kept draped over her right shoulder, and Jon felt his mouth water at the display of bare skin that her gown afforded. The black bodice was cut to show off her shoulders and the top of her large breasts. The sleeves started at her arms, and from her position, he could tell that much of her back was exposed as well. The crimson skirt was more conservative, flowing to her feet, but the shape of her wide hips was also made clear by the fit of it. It was the sort of outfit that would have made Lady Catelyn sneer if not for the fact that its wearer rode a dragon.
"Yes, your grace," Jon said, figuring that it would be best to be as diplomatic as possible. Daenerys' dragons could make all the difference in the coming war against the dead, and he would need her help to return to the wall and put down the traitors who had killed him. "Where am I?"
"Your ordeal must have taken more out of you than we realized, young man," a middle-aged man in the robes of a maester said. "You're on the island of Dragonstone."
"Dragonstone?" Jon asked, his eyes going wide.
Him being alive was weird enough, but alive and hundreds of miles south of the wall?
"Leave us," the queen commanded.
"Princess," her large, dark-haired guard, went to protest.
"Princess?" Jon wondered in confusion.
"Three of his limbs are bound, Ser Harwin," she said. "I will be quite safe, and I would speak with this man without overwhelming him. Wait outside."
"If you're sure," the third, more Valyrian-looking man said.
"I am," Daenerys said. Once they were alone, she said, "What's the last thing you remember?"
"Being stabbed in the heart," Jon thought to himself. "Falling."
"Do you recall the lights?" Daenerys asked.
"Lights?" Jon asked, and then he recalled it. He was floating in a void, heard a very irritated-sounding voice, was then sent flying through the air, and then saw multi-colored lights appear all around him. "I remember."
"Do you know what they were?" she asked.
"I...this is going to sound mad," Jon warned her.
"I saw a man appear out of thin air and plummet towards the ground today," Daenerys said. "How much stranger can it get?"
"I was murdered today," Jon said. "I am Jon Snow, your grace, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and…"
"The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch is Orbert Caswell," she interrupted him.
"What?" Jon asked.
"Orbert Caswell," she repeated. "We received notification of his ascendance to the role two years ago. I had never heard the name Orbert before, and it stuck."
"Two years?" Jon asked, a sense of dread sinking in. "How long have you been back in Westeros?"
"Back in...I've never left Westeros in my life," she scoffed.
"What?" Jon asked. "But you are Queen Daenerys Targaryen, right? The one who brought the dragons back to life."
"I am Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen of Dragonstone," Rhaenyra said, "and what do you mean by brought the dragons back to life?"
"The Black Queen," Jon breathed.
"Again, only a princess," Rhaenyra said. "My royal father is still alive and well."
"King Viserys I," Jon said, his voice laced with the horror he was beginning to feel.
"You say that like there's been another," Rhaenyra said, furrowing her brow.
"There has," Jon said, as a short laugh escaped his lips. "Your son. Gods, I must be dreaming, though why I'd dream of a woman who died a hundred and seventy years ago..."
"A hundred and seventy years?" Rhaenyra asked. "What year do you think this is?"
"It's been three hundred years since the conquest," Jon replied. "I suppose I'm dreaming of what? The year one hundred and twenty?"
"It has been a hundred and fourteen years since the conquest," Rhaenyra replied, "and this is no dream."
"Right, so if I recall, you've just wed Laenor Velaryon, but since he doesn't care for women, you've turned to Ser Harwin Strong for children," Jon said, and the blood drained from Rhaenyra's face. "Oh, relax, princess. Like I say, this is all a fever dream I'm having at the Wall."
"It most certainly isn't!" Rhaenyra shouted. Lowering her voice to a bare hiss, she spat, "Speak those words again, and I will have your tongue!"
"Princess!?" Ser Harwin shouted. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Rhaenyra growled.
"I don't suppose you'd be so kind as to have your maester fetch me milk of the poppy?" Jon asked. "With any luck, falling asleep in here will wake me up in the real world."
"Putting you to sleep sounds marvelous just now," Rhaenyra said, spinning on her heels and stomping out of the room.
Jon watched her leave and furrowed his brow as he saw that her dress did indeed leave most of the creamy skin of her back exposed. He was honestly surprised that his mind could conjure the image of a woman that beautiful. She seemed more like someone who'd appear in that cunt Theon's dreams. Shaking his head, he settled back against the pillow and decided to wait for sleep. He couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he'd hit his head at the Wall and imagined both the mutiny and this. He could only hope that he'd wake soon.
"Alright, what about our new guest has you so bothered?" Laenor asked once they were alone.
"He claims to be from nearly two centuries in the future," Rhaenyra replied.
"So he's gone mad," Laenor said, sitting down and grabbing an apple from the bowl the servants had left for them. "Can't really blame him after being attacked by a dragon."
"There was no dragon," Rhaenyra said.
"Of course there was a dragon," Laenor scoffed. "How else could a man end up in the air?"
"He appeared in a flash of light," Rhaenyra said. "A number of different color lights appeared in the sky, and I flew Syrax over to get a better look. Just as we drew close, he appeared and started falling."
"How much had you had to drink?" Laenor asked.
"Nothing," Rhaenyra hissed. "One minute there was nothing there, the next there were lights, and then there was that man."
"Don't tell me you actually think he's from the future," Laenor said.
"He knows about you," Rhaenyra said. "He knows about your...nature...and he also knows that I was considering turning to Ser Harwin."
"Plenty of men and women have guessed about my nature as you put it," Laenor said, "and as for Harwin? Lucky guess."
"Lucky guess?!" Rhaenyra hissed.
"Educated guess," Laenor amended. "Face it, Nyra, the man is gorgeous. Rugged, handsome, and huge, with fists like hams. I can't imagine…"
"Laenor!" Rhaenyra hissed.
"Sorry," Laenor said, blushing lightly. "My point is that it wouldn't be difficult to guess that you'd turn to Harwin of all men. You clearly like the look of him, and he stares at your arse like it contains all the gold in Casterly Rock."
"He doesn't!" Rhaenyra exclaimed. "Does he?"
"As your sworn shield, his job is to watch your back," Laenor said, smirking. "He takes his duties very seriously. Getting back to the madman, other than him guessing a couple things about us, did he say anything else that might suggest he's telling the truth."
"He called me Daenerys," Rhaenyra replied.
"Daenerys?" Laenor asked.
"When I was born, my father wanted me to have a unique name, one that was sufficiently Valyrian-sounding but which hadn't been used in the family before," Rhaenyra said. "He was inspired to do so by his grandmother, who had done the same thing with her first daughter. The only Daenerys Targaryen there has ever been lived not eight full years and died nearly twenty years before I was born. How would some random Northerner around my age even know the name?"
"Well, I'll admit that is odd," Laenor sighed.
Rhaenyra huffed and rolled her eyes. "What if it is true? I mean, I hadn't heard of there being a Northerner on the island before today, and that's the sort of thing people would mention if only for the novelty. How else could a man like that just appear in the air if not through the intervention of the gods?"
"Why would the gods do that?" Laenor asked.
"I don't know," Rhaenyra said, "but what I do know is that none of us would be here if not for one girl of our line being gifted a vision of the Doom. Maybe this is something like that. Maybe he's been sent to help me."
Laenor looked like he had something to say about that, but he kept quiet.
"What are you going to do with him?" Laenor asked.
"He annoyed me, so I had Maester Gerardys give him milk of the poppy," Rhaenyra said. "I'll speak with him come the morrow. I've already sworn Gerardys and Harwin to silence, and I wanted to make it clear: no one is to know about any of this."
"I would sound mad repeating any of it," Laenor said.
"Not even Qarl, Laenor," Rhaenyra said.
"You have my word," Laenor said.
Jon awoke and groaned at how stiff he seemed. His oddly vivid dreams returned to him, and he reached up to his forehead, seeking pain that wasn't there. When he went to move his other arm, the reason for his stiffness became clear, as he was still bound to the bed from before.
"What in the hells is going on?" he grumbled to himself, lying back and trying to blink away the last of his grogginess.
That proved impossible, as the aftereffects of milk of the poppy left his mind somewhat fuzzy. Despite the slowness of his mind, he could recall the last moments before that maester came in again and fed him the concoction that sent him right to sleep.
Rhaenyra Targaryen.
It didn't make any sense. Rhaenyra Targaryen died nearly a century and a half before he was born. She was a figure he only really knew anything about because he'd been so fascinated by the rogue prince as a boy. If this wasn't a dream, and given that he'd never had a dream where he went to sleep and woke up inside it before, that seemed likely, that meant…
"Ghost!" Jon gasped, struggling futilely against the ropes as he tried to sit up.
He hadn't even realized just how used to the strange connection to his old companion he'd grown until he couldn't feel it anymore. That, more than anything else, made it sink in for him. It was all real. He'd been murdered, picked up by what could only be a god of some sort, and sent hurtling through time and space. What little he had left in life was lost to him. He felt bitter tears sting his eyes and shut them tight as he laid his head back against the pillow and mourned yet another loss. He didn't know how long he stayed there, raging against the dreadful hand he'd been dealt by life, but he was eventually interrupted by the sudden sound of the door being opened.
"Are you sure?" he heard Harwin ask.
"Again, he is bound, and I am perfectly safe," Rhaenyra said. "Besides, he looks like he hasn't yet woken. Set the tray down on that table, and I will wait a while. I don't need to listen to petitions just yet."
"Yes, Princess," Ser Harwin said.
Harwin Strong and Rhaenyra Targaryen. Alive and well and possibly already lovers, except…perhaps they weren't. Jon couldn't, for the life of him, imagine why he of all people would be chosen for such a thing, but whoever sent him to this place, to this moment, had to have done so for a reason.
"YOU FAILED!" a deep, rumbling, and furious voice bellowed.
While he had no idea who this god he had enraged was, he couldn't deny that he had failed. He had needed to prepare the wall and all of Westeros for the coming threat of the Others, and in that, he had failed miserably. He had a thousand fires to put out and was surrounded by men who refused to let him do it. In the end, he'd been murdered by some of those men, but if he hadn't been, would he have succeeded anyway?
Bringing all of Westeros together to face their common threat would have been a near-impossible task after the years of war, and even if they had managed it, it still might not have been enough. Dragons would have helped, being creatures of fire, but there were no dragons in Westeros by his time, and those that lived in Essos were young. Had he had dragons as large as those who helped the Targaryens conquer the Seven Kingdoms; however, they would have made an enormous difference.
He opened his eyes and caught sight of Rhaenyra standing there and looking down at him with a pensive look on her perfect face as she turned her rings around her slim, elegant fingers. Just the sight of her made his heart flutter, and he couldn't recall another woman having such an effect on him. Ygritte hadn't, and he had really liked her. Even Val, the rare beauty that she was, did not instantly bewitch him like that.
"Good morrow, princess," Jon said, his voice rough.
"You have accepted that I am who I say?" Rhaenyra asked.
"Whether I've been made some god's pet or am living through delusions of my own fevered mind, I figure that I had best play along," Jon said. "I'm also unbelievably groggy just now, so I'll probably be more agreeable at any rate."
"Well, as much as I'd hate to make you disagreeable, you would, I imagine, appreciate some water," Rhaenyra said, pouring him a cup from a jug sitting near her and handing it to him.
"Thank you," Jon said, downing the cup of water almost immediately. "I can't say I've ever been tended to by royalty before."
"Well, don't get used to it," Rhaenyra said, making him smile.
"I'm sorry for speaking so plainly before," Jon said. "I really did think that I had to be dreaming."
"I can imagine," Rhaenyra said.
"Why do you believe me?" Jon asked. "I'm aware of how mad this all is, and I've lived through it."
"You know things that you shouldn't," Rhaenyra replied, "and you seem so certain when you speak. Is there anything that you know about me that no one should know?"
"Other than what I've mentioned, I'd have to think about it," Jon replied. "At the risk of offending you, I always found your uncle more interesting than you."
"I find Visenya more interesting than Rhaenys, so I can understand that," Rhaenyra commented.
"Let's see...you named your dragon Syrax when you were a girl and rode her for the first time when you were...seven, if I recall, with your uncle's help," Jon said, trying to recall what he knew of her. "Your uncle gifted you something made of jade when he returned from the Stepstones."
"My tiara," Rhaenyra said, her eyes going wide.
"Criston Cole offered to smuggle you away to Essos to live with him, and when you rejected that offer, he switched his allegiance to Alicent," Jon said, and Rhaenyra went still.
"That...that gets recorded?" she asked.
"Your father's fool has an exceptionally big mouth for a dwarf," Jon said dryly. "What does he go by? Turnip?"
"Mushroom," Rhaenyra growled. "Alright, that's enough. I believe you."
"Thank the gods," Jon said. "Listen, the only reason I can think of for the gods to send me here would be to make sure that there are still dragons in Westeros in two centuries."
"Why would there not be dragons?" Rhaenyra asked, sounding like the idea was utterly unthinkable.
"Because when your father dies in about fifteen or sixteen years, your brother usurps the throne, and the resulting war sees all of the dragons die," Jon replied.
"Wha...what?" Rhaenyra asked, stumbling back into the nearest chair and falling into it.
"There's a terrible evil slumbering north of the wall, and if we don't have a host of very large, very dangerous dragons by the time it wakes up, we're all fucked," Jon said.
"I don't care about that!" Rhaenyra hissed. "What happens to my family?"
"Otto and Alicent Hightower never let go of their ambitions," Jon replied. "Otto ends up getting his old position as hand back in about a decade or so and spends the rest of your father's reign building a council loyal to him and his grandson."
"That treasonous snake!" Rhaenyra growled.
"You don't make things any easier on yourself by turning to Harwin for children," Jon said, wincing as her purple eyes flashed dangerously. "You have three sons by him, and each one comes out looking like their father. They inherit his hair color, his eye color, and many of his features."
"Is that how I lose?" Rhaenyra asked. "Do the Velaryons turn on me? Because, with just Sunfyre, I fail to see how Aegon could defeat me."
"The Velaryons remain on your side despite how obvious it is that Laenor isn't the father of your children," Jon said. "As for the greens, Alicent has another son whose egg hatches, but the deciding factor is Vhagar. Lady Laena dies in childbirth, and your one-eyed brother claims the ancient dragon for his own."
"One-eyed?" Rhaenyra asked, going paler with each word he spoke.
"Oh, right, that hasn't happened yet," Jon said. "Aemond. Has Laena married your uncle yet?"
"Oh gods!" Rhaenyra sobbed, burying her face in her hands and bursting into tears.
Jon reached out with his unbound hand and touched her shoulder, saying, "None of this has happened yet. There's still time to change things."
"You don't understand!" Rhaenyra cried. "No one outside of High Tide knows about my uncle and Laena yet other than Laenor and I. For you to know that…"
"Ah," Jon said. He supposed that she hadn't entirely accepted his story before that.
"What am I going to do?" Rhaenyra asked. "Are you saying that I should give up my role as my father's heir?"
"Honestly, I don't know if that would help," Jon said. "Otto remains convinced that your uncle is a threat to his family and the realm at large, and frankly, I don't know what Daemon Targaryen would do if faced with the reality that his old enemy's blood was going to end up on his grandfather's throne, plus, your line does win in the end."
"What?" Rhaenyra asked.
"Aegon technically wins, managing to kill you," Jon said, hoping that she wouldn't ask for details, "but he's poisoned by one of his allies not long after that, and your son, also named Aegon, succeeds him because the rest of Otto's line is gone by then."
Save for a simple girl whose murder also doesn't need to be mentioned.
"Aegon?" Rhaenyra asked. "Is he one of Har…"
"No," Jon replied. "Your sons from Harwin die in the war. After Laenor's death, you marry Daemon and have two sons by him: Aegon and Viserys. Both end up becoming kings, and the line continues through Viserys II."
"Gods," Rhaenyra muttered. "What are my other sons' names?"
"I'm sorry, but I don't recall the first two," Jon replied. "The third one is named Joffrey, however."
"Joff...oh, of course," Rhaenrya muttered. "Why do you recall his name?"
"Let's just say that history has a way of repeating itself," Jon replied darkly. "At any rate, as I said, the only reason I can think of for the gods to send me here would be to change things."
"What would you suggest I do then?" Rhaenyra asked, sounding utterly weary.
"The most important thing is to prevent Aemond from claiming Vhagar," Jon replied, scratching at his chin as he considered what else would help. "Your maester, if I recall correctly, ends up being remembered as one of the most learned men of his age. If you can convince Lady Laena to spend the duration of her pregnancies here, under his care, she may well survive them. As I said, you give birth five times under his care and survive."
"She's going to wed my uncle, and I'm her goodsister, so that shouldn't be difficult," Rhaenyra said.
"Failing that, Aemond must be prevented from claiming her dragon no matter what," Jon said, and Rhaenyra paled again.
"My father has lost far too many children," she said quickly. "I couldn't...I couldn't do that to him."
"Hmm," Jon said, tapping his fingers on the wooden bedframe. "The only other obvious thing would be to find someone other than Harwin to take as a lover."
"Not one of them ends up looking like me?" Rhaenyra asked in disbelief.
"I guess it's rather strong seed," Jon said wryly, and she groaned at the pun. "In all seriousness, your cousin, Princess Rhaenys, also had dark hair, so it's not all that shocking. Sadly, Harwin's hair is brown and not Baratheon black."
"Right, so I can't even claim that it's from that side of the family," Rhaenyra sighed.
"The brown eyes would be rather inexplicable at any rate," Jon said. "My advice would be to find a man with Valyrian blood. This island is apparently full of such men."
"I can imagine," Rhaenyra said dryly. "Well, Jon Snow, you have given me much to consider. Ser Harwin!"
"Yes, Princess?" Ser Harwin asked, rushing into the room almost comically.
"Unbind him," Rhaenyra commanded. Turning to Jon, she said, "You are free to move about, though I would ask you to remain in the castle for a couple days in case I have further questions. I assure you that I will have men keep an eye out for the Grey Ghost."
"Thank you, Princess," Jon said, smiling as he realized that she'd picked the easiest of the wild dragons to pin his fall on. People rarely saw that most elusive dragon, and the memory of his apparent ordeal would quickly fade when there were no further incidents or even sightings.
"Uh, Princess, we put breeches on him and tied a belt around him, but other than that…" Ser Harwin went to ask.
"The ship he was plucked from seems to have disappeared," Rhaenyra replied. "Ensure that he is properly clothed."
"Thank you for your generosity, Princess," Jon said as she left.
"The princess is most kind," Ser Harwin said, his eyes following her out of the room.
He shook his head and undid the ropes binding Jon. As Jon thanked the knight and stood up, he stumbled and grabbed the bedframe.
"First day on your new legs?" Ser Harwin asked, sounding amused.
It might as well have been, as far as Jon was concerned. He was taller than he remembered being, and he was broader.
"What the fuck?" he thought to himself. "I guess I'm still a little out of it from the milk of the poppy."
"Makes sense," Ser Harwin said. "I must be off."
"Right, you're her sworn shield, yes?" Jon asked.
"I am indeed," the other man said, sounding proud.
As he left, Jon let out a breath and sat down, shaking his head. He wasn't short in his old life, but neither was he particularly tall. He recalled how Stannis Baratheon had towered over him, and yet he doubted that the man would now if he were there. Harwin Strong seemed to be just as tall as the future claimant to the throne, unless the walls and doors of Dragonstone were oddly short, and yet Jon seemed to be the same height.
"This is beyond bizarre," he muttered to himself. "I know that my stab wounds were healed, but…"
Another thought occurred to him as he recalled his murder, and he reached up to feel for the scars where Orell's eagle had tried to scratch his eye out. He found only unmarked skin and realized that he had been changed in numerous ways for some reason. His change in stature would take some getting used to, but he would manage it. His singular focus would need to be ensuring that the Seven Kingdoms were as prepared as possible for the nightmare that was to come. Whatever it took to complete that task, he would do it.
A few days later, Jon decided to take a hike and explore the volcanic island that he'd very nearly landed on. The princess had made it clear that he could come and go as he pleased and promised to think of an official excuse to keep him around, but she had been busy over the past few days, and he had seen her only once for another talk. In truth, an official role of some sort would be needed, as some were beginning to question his presence, but the role of master-at-arms was already taken, and he didn't really know what else he could do. That was for his gracious host to think of, however, and she had already proven herself smarter than the histories would suggest that she was.
Jon had grown restless over the past couple days and decided stretching his legs was in order. He had mostly adjusted to his new stature and figured that hiking through the uneven terrain that seemed to make up the island at large would be a good idea. The small village that sat in the shade of the castle seemed pleasant enough as he made his way through it. He spotted a few sailors unloading what looked like grain as he passed through the pier, but all in all, it seemed to be a quiet day.
A loud roar shocked the sailors and Jon alike, but most of the people there didn't even flinch. Looking up, he spotted a small silver dragon flying above his head and took a moment to gawk at Seasmoke. He had been far too preoccupied with plummeting to his death to properly notice Syrax when he'd been caught by her, and he'd been unconscious when Rhaenyra and Laenor had moved him onto the smaller dragon. Free of all of that now, he could stare openly in awe at the flying creature.
It had occurred to him over the past few days that the prospect of the mad king having a dragon was a terrifying one, but he'd reasoned that much of House Targaryen's decline had come from the deaths of the dragons, and with one, the Defiance of Duskendale and the impact that it had on Aerys II might not have happened at all. Rhaegar's abduction of his aunt was harder to dismiss, but it honestly didn't matter. If Westeros was in the shape that it was in when the Others rose, every man, woman, and child on the continent was doomed. Nothing mattered more than making sure that the Seven Kingdoms were ready for that, and while any warnings that he gave would likely be dismissed and forgotten by the time they'd be needed, if the dragons were still around, then they'd have a fighting chance.
"Gods, they're impressive creatures," Jon muttered to himself as Seasmoke disappeared out of view.
"Aren't they just?" an old man asked, having overheard him. "Right terrifying though. I heard that a man got plucked up by one of the wild ones last week and sent plunging to his death."
"I heard about that, the poor sod," Jon said, fighting the urge to grin.
"Thank the gods for the quick thinking of the princess," the old man said.
"Indeed," Jon said, smiling.
He hadn't known that she'd used her concocted tale like that, but he was impressed. Letting the rumor spread made her look both caring and capable, which would only add to her appeal among the people here. Rhaenyra, the Black Queen, was largely presented by history as an idiot, though few figures from the dance were remembered well after the fact. The princess was proving herself to be more intelligent than he would have expected from the accounts. Either they were very exaggerated, or the coming years would take their toll on her.
"You're not going out alone, are you?" the old man asked.
"I won't be going far," Jon replied. "I'm just looking to get a little fresh air, or as fresh as it gets around here."
"You get used to the sulfer after a while," the old man chuckled. "Just beware; the Sheepstealer tends to stay in caves to the north of here, while the cannibal's territory is to the northeast. You don't want to get close to that one, trust me. As for Grey Ghost, no one knows where that one stays. Some around here insist he's a myth, but I know I saw a gray dragon flying around here years ago, long before Seasmoke would have been spotted here."
"I'll keep that in mind," Jon said. "Thank you for the advice. I'm Jon, by the way."
"Bryen," the old man replied. "You take care now."
"Farewell," Jon said as he turned to leave.
He certainly hoped that Bryen would turn out to be right about the smell, because he imagined that he was going to be spending a great deal of time here. He wished that he had studied the years leading up to the Dance of Dragons more, but he'd always been more interested in the battles themselves. He was well familiar with Prince Daemon's antics, but that was about it. Even the reason for Cole's treachery he remembered only because of what a prominent role he ended up playing down the line. He wasn't sure of what he could do to prevent the war, but he had started thinking of some things that he'd need to run by Rhaenyra when she had a moment.
He went over a few of the ideas he had come up with, continuing to walk as he did, until finally deciding that it would be more worthwhile to run them by her and gain her input than just losing himself in thought.
"Luckily, I've got years to worry about it," Jon said when a loud rumbling shocked him out of his reverie.
It turned out that he'd been lost in thought for longer than he realized and had stumbled out further than he intended. The dark land he'd walked through stretched for quite a distance in each direction, but it was a particular cave to his east that he ended up focusing on with widespread eyes. As if in defiance of his comment, a massive black form emerged from that tunnel and flew into the air just a little before landing right in front of him. Balerion the Black Dread was described as being as black as night, so black that on a moonless night, he could pass through the skies completely invisible. This creature was more like tar than the night's sky, blacker than the land he was on. A massive, spiky monster of a dragon, he stared down at Jon with baleful green eyes.
"Fuck," he thought to himself as he realized just which dragon he had come face-to-face with.
His face was long and thin, almost triangular as it came down to a spiked chin, and the two horns that jugged straight outward from his head added to that look. Two other horns emerged from lower down on his head and curved sharply downward, running parallel to his jaw. Syrax was an elegant creature, all things considered, with a rounded snout and intelligent-looking yellow eyes. Her horns were gentle too, giving her a relatively soft appearance. The Cannibal, which this absolutely had to be, looked more like a demon than anything else.
"N...now I know what you're thinking," Jon said, holding out his hands, "but I swear, I don't taste at all like a dragon egg."
The Cannibal let out a sharp, warm exhale at that and peered down at him, moving in closer. Jon had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide where this monster couldn't instantly find him. The castle-forged steel sword at his hip, provided by Rhaenyra, would do him little good as well. With no options and with a certainty that he was going to get an earful from that angry god again, he acted on instinct and thrust a hand forward, placing it right on the dragon's chin.
With a gasp, Jon closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was shocked to see that he was staring down at himself. He looked tiny and yet intriguing in a way that none of these other annoying little pink creatures ever had. He inhaled and smelled a hint of dragon, like some of the other silver-haired ones did. He was old, very old, having hatched in the arms of a creature like this one but much smaller. That creature had died, turning purple and spasming after putting a piece of his egg in his mouth, and then he'd needed to flee, chased by other creatures like him and a bronze dragon the size of a horse. He remembered confusion and rage, and…
"JON!" an annoying creature screamed from atop a small yellow dragon.
He raised himself to meet the challenge.
"No!" Jon shouted, grabbing onto the Cannibal's horns as he rose up to roar at Syrax. "Call Syrax off!"
The Cannibal roared, and Jon could feel his confusion through the nascent bond. He tried to project calm as he had needed to with Ghost a couple times and said, "It's alright. They don't mean you any harm."
The Cannibal shook him off, and he fell on his arse, looking up at the giant dragon, who cocked his head slightly as he looked down at him. He gave Syrax a glare before turning around and returning to his cave. Only once he was out of sight did Jon relax at all, taking a couple long, slow breaths as he tried to will his heart to slow down. Rhaenyra dismounted Syrax and stomped over to him as he sat up, looking angrier than the Cannibal had just then.
"What were you thinking?!" she screamed, hitting him to punctuate each word.
"Keep in mind you have a bloody mace worth of metal on that hand," Jon hissed, blocking her latest swing with his arm and meeting her glare. "I went for a walk and wandered too far."
"I should have you confined to a cell!" Rhaenrya hissed, taking a step back and glaring down at him. "I need you, damn it!"
"I know," Jon grumbled as he got to his feet. "This was stupid of me. Now, can we get out of here before he decides to come back? My bond with him is far too new to be relied on."
"Bond?" Rhaenyra asked. "I thought he just wasn't hungry and didn't feel like fighting Syrax."
"No, I definitely felt a connection there," Jon said.
"On Syrax, right now," Rhaenyra ordered. "Follow my lead since I'm sure she'll be on edge."
She did indeed need to calm her dragon as they approached, but she managed quickly enough, and soon they were in the air.
"You said your father was Lord Eddard Stark, yes?" Rhaenyra asked.
"Yes," Jon replied.
"And you don't know who your mother was?" Rhaenyra asked
"Yes, he never told me," Jon replied. "It's a moot point now. Neither of them will be born for over another century."
"So she could have been Valyrian?" Rhaenyra asked.
"I…" Jon trailed off. "No, that's...highly unlikely."
Could it be true though? If his father bedded some bastard daughter of the mad king, that might explain why he never told anyone her name. He couldn't imagine that Robert Baratheon would have been thrilled to learn of that particular liaison.
"She must have been," Rhaenrya insisted. "You do have certain Valyrian features, in truth, and your eyes look like a dark purple in some lights. No one has ever gotten as close to the Cannibal as you did and lived to tell the tale. To be able to bond with him…"
"It's called warging," Jon said. When Rhaenyra turned and gave him a confused look, he continued, saying, "It's an ability some of the First Men have to bond with creatures and enter their minds."
"Enter their minds?" Rhaenyra asked.
"I used to be able to do it with my direwolf, Ghost," Jon said. "Just now, I actually saw myself through the Cannibal's eyes. I think I saw a couple of his memories too. He hatched in the crib of a Valyrian baby who choked to death on a fragment of the egg. The other people seemed to blame him, perhaps not realizing what happened, and chased him off. A bronze dragon as big as a charger chased him into the caves of Dragonstone."
"By the gods," Rhaenrya gasped. "That's incredible. Did the bronze dragon have any green in her scales?"
"Yes," Jon replied.
"You saw Vhagar," Rhaenyra breathed. "Vhagar, before Visenya was ever born by the sound of it. That…"
She trailed off then and looked off into the sky.
"You're being moved to new quarters," she said after a moment.
"You don't need to keep me locked in the keep," Jon said. "I swear I've learned my lesson."
"I'm not keeping you locked up," Rhaenrya said. "The new quarters are related to how we're going to explain your continued presence."
"Oh?" Jon asked.
"We'll go over it later," Rhaenrya said, "but I have decided what your background is. Officially, you are Jon Snow of White Harbor, a man who was unfortunate enough to be captured by slavers just outside the city. They tried to bring you to Tyrosh, but Grey Ghost attacked the ship and carried you off, dropping you just above Dragonstone, where you were rescued by my husband."
"I suppose that works," Jon said.
"It's simple enough to be believable, and few will question much anyway, so long as no one learns about your connection to the Cannibal," Rhaenyra said.
"Morghul," Jon interrupted her.
"What?" Rhaenrya asked.
"If he's going to be mounted someday, he might as well have a real name," Jon said. "Morghul does mean death in Valyrian, right?"
"It does," Rhaenrya replied, "and I suppose that fits. As I was saying, no one can know that you've bonded with a dragon. My father would throw a fit worthy of my dreadful half-brothers."
"I imagine having a non-Targaryen dragonrider would be a problem," Jon commented.
"Yes," Rhaenrya said. "We might have to amend your backstory down the line. I guess a servant girl of the Manderlys' accompanying them to King's Landing, where they went for a tourney, wouldn't be out of the question…"
"Sorry?" Jon asked.
"Nevermind," Rhaenrya muttered. "Just thinking aloud."
Jon wanted to ask what about exactly, but was well aware of the fact that he enraged her just then and thought better of it.
"These are the nicest quarters I've ever had," Jon murmured to himself as he laid down in his new, much more comfortable bed. "Gods, what has become of my life?"
He was still coming to terms with the fact that he had been transported through time, and now it seemed that his gracious host was going to be giving him an actual position around here. The only position he'd expected to have while growing up was in the Night's Watch, an organization that he had joined and pledged to spend the rest of his life in. He had died, however, and wouldn't technically take his vow for nearly two centuries, so, for multiple reasons, he considered that vow null and void.
"How do you like it?" Rhaenrya asked, and Jon physically jumped out of bed, staring at her and the hidden passageway she'd just poked her head through in shock.
The false section of wood-paneled wall opened inward, allowing her to slip her head inside.
"Princess?" Jon asked.
"The Red Keep isn't the only castle with secret passageways," Rhaenyra explained, grinning mischievously. "Maegor actually based his obsession on the ones in Dragonstone."
"This isn't appropriate," Jon said. "It was one thing when I was an ailing man bound to a bed, but if Alicent were to learn…"
"The men guarding my door will attest to the fact that I spent the entire night in my chambers," Rhaernya said. "There are actually passageways leading to two separate rooms from there. Laenor has made use of the other one."
"Laen…" Jon trailed off as Rhaenrya walked in, wearing nothing but white sleeping silks that clung to her voluptuous body.
"You said that I should find a man with Valyrian blood to have children with," Rhaenyra said, staring up at him with a hunger he'd only ever seen in one woman's eyes before.
"I...I...that was warging," Jon stammered. "It's a thing that First Men…"
"Jon, if the First Men could bond with dragons, my family would have learned of it by now," Rhaenrya said. "They're not simple animals like wolves. They're complicated and intelligent, beyond the means of normal men to command. It takes dragon's blood to bond with one; it always has. Even those dragonseeds that you said my son tried to make use of during the war only managed to claim dragons because of that blood. Your ability to see through Morghul's eyes is unique, and I think it could be quite helpful for our children."
She stepped right up to him, her deep purple eyes nearly black with desire, and with a flourish, pushed her silk gown off of her shoulders, allowing it to pool by her feet. If Jon grew any harder, he feared his cock might tear off his breeches.
"Tell me, Jon, am I not beautiful?" Rhaenrya asked, taking his hand in hers.
"The most beautiful woman in the world," Jon breathed, feeling sparks run up his arm from where she touched him. If the gods had ever fashioned a more perfect creature, he didn't want to meet her.
"The gods sent you to me," Rhaenrya whispered, "to warn me, guide me, and perhaps even to fuck me."
She took his hand and placed it on one of her large, impossibly perky breasts, moaning softly as the heavy mound filled it completely.
"You will never be my husband, and you won't be able to claim our children as your own, but tell me yes, and together we will make the future king of the Seven Kingdoms," Rhaenrya whispered, "and hopefully another dozen princes and princesses besides."
Jon had sworn that he would never sire a bastard, even before he had vowed never to take a wife or father children of any sort. In that moment, as he looked down into the amethyst eyes of the realm's delight, he knew that he was not strong enough to keep to that vow. Her descendant had once told him that love was the death of duty, and he knew that if he tasted her plump lips even once, he would surely fall for her, but perhaps bedding this beautiful creature was his duty. Perhaps the gods truly had sent him back in time to sire her children in the place of Harwin Strong and her uncle both. If so, they were kinder than he had ever known.
"Yes," Jon breathed, swirling a thumb around one of her large pink nipples. "Gods, yes."
Rhaenrya wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a searing, hot kiss. She tasted like wine, spiced goose, and something uniquely her, and he immediately couldn't get enough. Walking her to the bed, the two of them tumbled down onto it together as she plunged her tongue between his lips. She moaned as he met her tongue with his own, and Jon felt his cock throb at the sinful sound.
Running his hand down from her breast to her hip, he marveled at how she felt under his touch. Her skin was like silk, and it seemed like she didn't have a single blemish on her entire body, not a scar, not a mole, not even a freckle. He couldn't say for sure just yet, but he would map every inch of her with fingers and lips by the end of the night if he had his way.
"Mmm, you are a wonderful kisser," Rhaenyra purred as he reluctantly let her lips go to breathe.
Jon just smiled at that. He hadn't had a great deal of practice, in truth, but he had always been quick to pick things up, and he was glad that she was pleased with him. As he looked down at her curvaceous form, he swore that he wanted to kiss every inch of her, some far more than most.
"By the gods, your body is incredible," Jon breathed.
"So is yours," Rhaenyra cooed, "but I did not get nearly enough of a look at it when I caught you before. Take off your clothes."
"I will soon enough," Jon smirked, "but first, I want to taste you."
"Taste? Agh!" Rhaenyra moaned as he leaned in and began kissing the slender column of her neck. "All...ahh...all you're taste there is the scented oils I have added to my baths."
"Is that why you always smell so good?" Jon asked, inhaling deeply to get more of the intoxicating scent of her.
"I pride myself on smelling lovely," Rhaenyra grinned. "I'm glad you like it."
"How could I not?" Jon asked rhetorically as he moved down to her chest.
Cupping her large breasts in his hands, he knew that he could spend each night for the rest of his life exploring those beautiful mounds and not get enough. He couldn't claim to have seen very many breasts in his life, having foregone brothels while he was younger, but he still knew that they had to be uniquely extraordinary. Plump, full, heavy, and yet pert, they stood high on her chest, capped by sizable nipples that he longed to wrap his lips around. He didn't go straight for them, though, taking a minute to tease the rest of her soft, sensitive flesh with his tongue and lips first.
"Mmm!" Rhaenyra whimpered softly. "That feels good."
When Jon wrapped his lips around one of her hard nipples, she cried out, grabbing his head and holding him there. He sucked gently, his eyes locked onto her beautiful face, so he could watch her pleasure. She was so open and expressive, without a care in the world, in that moment, and he loved it.
"Oh gods, just like that!" Rhaenyra cried, and Jon grinned up at her, teasing the stiff peak between his lips with his teeth.
That drew a much sharper cry from her, and he switched to the other nipple. He continued going back and forth between them, kneading her breasts and sucking on her nipples, all while keeping his eyes glued to her hauntingly stunning face. Her pleasure was beautiful, and he felt he could watch it forever. As incredible as her arse was and as much as he wanted to hold onto her wide hips and take her like a wolf would a bitch, he figured that most of his time with her would be spent with her on her back so he could gaze upon her face.
"Gods, stop teasing me and fuck me!" Rhaenyra whimpered. "I feel like I'm on fire already."
"Patience Princess," Jon chuckled.
In truth, the mouthwatering smell of her arousal had begun to permeate the air, and he knew he was going to have to move on from her breasts lest they both went mad soon. There was one thing he knew he had to do before he buried himself inside her, however. He kissed his way down from her breasts, along her ribs, and her soft belly. He couldn't help but compare her to the only other woman he'd ever had.
Ygritte had lived a hard, harsh life, and that life had been written plainly upon her body, not just in the scars she'd had but in how thin and lean she was. Rhaenyra had lived a much easier life, and that was equally reflected in her body. There was a softness to her that Ygritte had lacked and which he found deeply appealing. As he made his way down towards her rather sparse forest of silver-gold curls, he took a moment to dip his tongue into her navel, making her squeal and giggle.
"What are you doing?" Rhaenyra asked as he kissed her curls.
"As I said, Princess, I'm tasting you," Jon replied, grinning at the way her beautiful eyes widened.
"Th...there?" Rhaenyra squeaked, her face going red. "I don't know about...FUCK!"
He suspected that was very true, not that he was a learned master by any stretch of the imagination. Her response to his first probing lick of her almost dainty folds pleased him immensely because, from the first taste of her tangy honey, he knew that he'd want to do this daily if he could. He hadn't minded doing this to Ygritte and hadn't even minded the taste, but Rhaenyra tasted so much better that he couldn't help but groan in pleasure as he began feasting upon her.
"What...what...whahh!" Rhaenrya moaned, looking like she couldn't fathom the pleasure she was feeling.
"Do you want me to stop?" Jon asked teasingly, grinning at her smugly.
"Don't you bloody dare!" Rhaenyra cried, grabbing his head and pulling him back in between her legs, making him laugh.
He parted the surprisingly soft and sparse hair that covered her sex and got a better look at her cunt. Even it was beautiful; pretty, pink, and tiny-looking, with small lips that shone with his saliva and her own wetness. He gathered that wetness on his tongue, savoring the taste of her, before moving his tongue up to the little nub that he knew would drive her wild.
"There!" Rhaenyra shrieked. "Right there!"
He smirked and swirled his tongue in tight little circles around her throbbing little pearl, drawing more desperate and strangled moans from her full lips. Bringing his left hand to her dripping slit, he pushed two fingers inside, marveling at how bloody hot and tight she felt even around them, and curled them upward, seeking a little spot that he had managed to find only once before. It took him only a moment, as the spot inside her seemed even larger than what he was expecting, and the result as he pressed his fingers against it was immediate.
"Yes!" Rhaenyra screamed, her whole body going taut.
She shut her eyes tightly and clawed at the bedding, digging her fingers into it as though she feared that she'd float away otherwise. Knowing that she had to be close, he wrapped his lips around that small nub atop her sex and sucked gently while he pistoned his fingers in and out of her squelching slit. With a deafening, wordless scream, she came hard, her back arching right off the bed as pleasure erupted within her. A small spurt of her fluids dribbled down onto his hand, and he pulled his fingers out to lap at her juices, grabbing her arse to hold her steady. It was just as plush and full as her perfect breasts, and he loved how well her round cheeks filled his large hands.
Letting her fall back onto the bed, he fingered her again, brushing up against that spot inside her that she'd reacted to so much. He knew that her little nub would still be sensitive, so moved back up to her breasts, grazing one of her pebbled nipples with his teeth as he continued to do his best to drive her mad.
"Wha...wha...it's...I think it's...AHH!" Rhaenyra panted and screamed, sounding half out of her mind.
Her second orgasm crashed over her just as the first was ending, and she cried out in pleasure, wrapping her arms around him. Ygritte would have already pushed him away, but Rhaenyra seemed to have a greater capacity for pleasure. and he was happy to give her all that she could take. He kissed his way up from her breasts and licked the salty sweat from her neck, making her shudder. As he kissed the shaking, quivering woman's pulse point, he increased the pace at which he fingered her.
"So good...so gods!" Rhaenyra panted, sounding delirious as she came down from her high. "Something's happening! It's too much! I think...I'm going to…"
She trailed off in another wordless shriek that echoed through the room as she came again, and to Jon's amazement, a torrent of fluid sprayed from her spasming cunt. Pulling his fingers out of her, he pulled her convulsing form into his arms, holding her close as she babbled, screamed, and sobbed in ecstasy. His brow furrowed in concern, and he began to wonder if he might have taken things too far.
"Princess?" Jon asked softly as her latest orgasm slowly subsided a bit. "Are you alright?"
"When you're...in my bed...call me...Rhaenyra," Rhaenyra panted, clinging to him and shaking like a leaf.
"Rhaenyra," Jon said, liking how the name felt on his lips.
He held her for a couple minutes, just lazily running his fingers through her long silver hair while her breathing slowly returned to normal.
"You are terribly overdressed," Rhaenyra said once she had recovered from her pleasure.
"Does my princess command me to undress?" Jon asked teasingly, and she grinned at him.
"She does," Rhaenrya said imperiously, making him laugh.
Jon pulled his simple tunic over his head and threw it aside before standing up and removing his belt. As his breeches fell to the floor, Rhaenyra gasped, her eyes going wide as saucers.
"This is part of why I insisted on doing all of that," Jon said. "I figured you would need to be as wet as possible given that my cock is…"
"Perfect," Rhaenyra said, her eyes locked on his oversized member.
"Perfect?" Jon asked in surprise, having expected fear.
"Gods, I knew you were large from what I saw before, but this is massive," she cooed. "You utterly dwarf...nevermind. Come! I need to feel you inside me."
She laid on her back and spread her legs wide, looking at him with hooded, lust-darkened eyes. He was on her in an instant, kissing her deeply and grinding his cock against her heated flesh. She moaned into his mouth, her hands exploring the muscles of his back and grabbing at his muscular arse.
"Oh, you're strong," she cooed, bringing her hands up to grasp his thick biceps. "It's a wonder I could take my eyes off of you when you first fell into Syrax's saddle."
"All of me, apparently," Jon quipped, making her blush.
"It's just so large," Rhaenyra shuddered, reaching under him to wrap her small hand around his member. "The gods sent you to me and fashioned you for me; I just know it. You're like every fantasy I ever had as a girl. Fuck me, Jon. Fuck me until you've spilled, and then fuck me again."
"Gods," Jon groaned, fisting his throbbing cock and lining himself up with her dripping cunt.
He pushed forward, and they both cried out in bliss as the bulbous head of his cock popped inside her. She was so fucking tight, it took his breath away. She felt like slick, heated silk around him, and he knew from the first moment that he felt her around him that he was ruined. He had always thought that having three children with a woman in nearly as many years was foolish, but now he couldn't blame poor Harwin. He was going to crave Rhaenyra's sweet cunt like air for the rest of his days.
"Oh Jon!" Rhaenyra whimpered, clinging to him. "Oh gods, you're so big!"
"You're so fucking hot," Jon groaned in her ear. "Maybe you Targaryens really do have dragon's blood in your veins."
"Yo...you're one of us too, remember?" Rhaenyra panted. "You were made for this."
"To fuck you?" Jon chuckled as he pushed another inch of his cock inside her.
"Slow!" Rhaenrya cried, and he went still.
"Am I hurting you?" Jon asked.
"N...not really," Rhaenyra whimpered. "It feels really good, but there's just so much of you. You make me feel tiny."
"You are tiny," Jon laughed, earning a glare from her. She stood perhaps 5'3, meaning that at six and a half feet, he towered over her. "Perhaps when you're more used to me, I can try picking you up and fucking you in the air."
Rhaenyra's eyes widened at that, and he felt her cunt flutter around him as she pictured it.
"You could, couldn't you?" she breathed. "With those gorgeous muscles of yours, picking me up would be easy. Gods, you're going to ruin me for all others."
"Then we'll be even," Jon muttered, slowly pushing another inch of his colossal cock inside her sweltering furnace of cunt.
Rhaenyra whimpered but didn't complain, and with about a third of his member inside her, he had enough to start fucking her slowly with short little thrusts, burying just a little more of himself inside her each time he pushed forward.
The pressure inside Rhaenyra bordered on painful, but he felt too bloody good for her to even think of telling him to stop. She felt like she was being split in two, but in a good way, and she marveled again at just how perfectly Jon fulfilled her fantasies. She had always pictured men a great deal larger than her in her fantasies, enjoying the feeling of safety that came with being held by a truly large man. Her uncle had been her most common fantasy through the years, and then Harwin slowly took his place. Jon was like the best of the both of them, however, and she was surprised by how quickly she'd come to yearn for him. She had already been thinking about bedding him before she learned that he had Valyrian blood in his veins. That just made him truly perfect, and she knew that their children would be beautiful.
"Oh fuck!" Jon grunted as he felt his balls come to rest against her plump arse. "You took all of me."
Rhaenyra gasped as she felt him reach the deepest parts of her cunt, but quickly recovered and said, "Don't sound so shocked. As I said, the gods sent you to me for this purpose."
"I'm beginning to actually believe that," Jon laughed. "Just let me know when I can move."
"You can," Rhaenyra said, trailing her hands up along the nape of his neck and to his head so she could graze his scalp with her long, sharp nails.
"Ugh!" Jon groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "That feels so good."
"What? My nails?" Rhaenyra asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "You sound like no one's ever scratched your scalp."
"Never," Jon replied.
"Well," Rhaenyra said, moving her hands down along his deliciously muscular form, "if you please me very, very well tonight, I'll show you what you've been missing come the morrow."
Jon grinned at her and pulled several inches of his cock from her depths. She whimpered at the loss, feeling terribly empty without him, only to cry out in pleasure as he thrust back inside her powerfully.
"Yes!" Rhaenyra gasped, her senses set alight by pleasure.
She kissed him, and Jon welcomed it, both because he already loved kissing her and because anything that distracted him from fucking amazing she felt was a good thing. He knew he wasn't going to last long, and while he was sure that her beauty could inspire his cock to recover quickly enough, he still wanted to feel her cum around him first. As he fucked her with slow, measured thrusts, he dominated the kiss, making her moan into his mouth. The two of them were like ravenous beasts trying to devour each other, and the passion between them was like dragonfire.
"Harder!" Rhaenyra exclaimed as she broke the kiss for air and wrapped her legs around him more tightly.
"I don't know how long I'm going to last, Nyra," Jon gasped.
"Don't care!" Rhaenyra cried, kissing his jaw and nibbling on his earlobe. "Just want you to fuck me."
Jon picked up his pace, fucking her hard enough that the sound of his hips slapping her round arse began to fill the air. Her breasts rolled and jiggled across her chest, and he watched the sight, utterly mesmerized by it.
"They're going to...oh gods...get bigger, you know?" Rhaenyra asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Once you put a babe, in me, they'll grow and fill with milk."
"Oh fuck!" Jon groaned, fucking her faster as he pictured her glowing and round with child, his child.
"Yes, yes, yes!" Rhaenyra cried, throwing her head back in pleasure. "Don't stop, don't stop!"
Gods be good, he didn't want to ever stop. He wanted to fuck her day and night. If he had had such a creature even once in his old life, he'd have never thought about the Wall ever again. As his thrusting hips became a blur, his rhythm, which he'd maintained well enough up to that point, slipped a bit, and he unwittingly changed the angle of his thrusts. He felt himself hit something deep inside her that seemed like an opening, and he felt Rhaenyra go still under him. Before he could ask if something was wrong, he hit it again and actually felt the head of his cock slip inside the strange little opening.
"AHHH!" Rhaenrya shrieked at the top of her lungs as her vision went white, and she came hard around his cock.
Her face went deep red, and her back arched up towards him as she began to quiver and shake in his arms, and Jon couldn't pay attention to any of it because all of his focus was taken up by the feeling of her divine cunt spasming around. She had felt incredibly good to begin with, and he had struggled to keep from finishing as it was, but feeling her milk him like that was far too much for him. With a roar, he came, spilling what felt like a barrel of seed inside her still-quivering tunnel.
The two lovers writhed in each other's arms as pleasure consumed them, neither wanting the faintest hint of space between them. Jon initially caught himself on his forearms to keep from smothering her, entirely aware of how much larger and heavier than her he was, and as his climax ended, he managed to roll them onto their sides, holding her tight as he panted for breath.
"By the...gods," Rhaenyra panted as her own orgasm finally ended.
Her uncle had told her once that there was pleasure in fucking, and though he hadn't taught her that lesson himself and Cole had failed to, she had finally learned the truth of his words. No wonder so many people were so obsessed with the act. She pushed weakly on Jon's shoulder and took the hint, rolling onto his back and pulling her in so she could lay on his broad, muscular chest. She inhaled his masculine scent and sighed, smiling widely.
"That was incredible," Jon sighed, running his fingers through her long hair and ghosting them over her back.
Rhaenyra shivered at his touch and gasped when he grabbed a handful of her arse. Pushing herself up, she brushed her hair back out of her face and smiled, only to realize in that moment that he still felt every bit as wonderfully large inside her as he had before.
"You did finish, yes?" she asked.
"Trust me I…" Jon trailed off, seeming to realize as she did that he was still as hard as Valyrian steel. "That's never happened before."
"You won't hear me complain," Rhaenyra grinned, sitting up and resting her hands on his chest for support.
She felt his firm, warm muscles under her soft hands, and her mouth watered. His arms, shoulders, and chest were all delightfully strong-looking, but it was the tight little muscles she saw covering his abdomen that drew her eye most. He was less hairy than some of the men she'd seen in the training yard, and that allowed his muscles to stand out more to her hungry gaze. As he stared down at his abs, she wanted to lick each one of them. Shaking her head, she giggled at her own lust and rolled her hips forward, whimpering as she felt a few inches of his cock slip from her depths, leaving her terribly empty.
"Gods," Jon groaned as she sank back down onto him.
"By the gods, I love your cock," Rhaenyra sighed.
Jon chuckled at that and let his hands, which had come to rest on her hips, slide upward until he was cupping her heavy breasts.
"Mmm!" Rhaenrya sighed, adoring the feeling of his rough hands on her.
The pair of them quickly found a rhythm, moving as one as she desperately speared herself upon his length again and again. Rhaenyra's life had been plagued with challenges ever since the death of her mother, and each time she thought she had found happiness, it turned sour. As she looked down at Jon, the man from the future who had fallen into her life, she just knew he'd be different. He was on her side at the moment, due to his desperation to prevent the terrible nightmare he had lived through from coming to pass. She hoped in time that his loyalty would come from genuine affection and even love as well, but for now, she knew that she could trust him in a way she couldn't trust anyone else. Having his help made her feel safe in a way that she realized she hadn't in a while.
"Fucking hells, Rhaenyra," Jon groaned, kneading her breasts and gently pinching one of her pebbled nipples.
As Rhaenyra cried out, she thought to herself that she was going to really enjoy having him around.