#yes this is incesty but idgaf

[galacticwildfire]

Fire on Fire | Jon Snow

One

Rhaenyra Targaryen was raised alongside her twin Daenerys across the narrow sea, until a twist of fate brought Rhaenyra to Westeros. Separated from her beloved twin she is taken as Ned Starks ward, isolated in a foreign land. It is there she finds comfort in Jon Snow, Winterfell's bastard, outcasted as she is.

The two grow inseparable, that bond growing into something dangerous as war grows nearer, a bond Ned grows fearful of, yet he can not dare to ever breathe the truth to either of them.

Warnings: blood and gore, typical got, if incest is a hard no in your got fics then you might wanna head out

Word count: 3.3k

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~

~

I sit in my bedroom, staring at the dancing flame of the candle as the bells ring from Winterfell's towers. Bell's celebrating the anniversary of Robert's coronation. The anniversary of Robert winning his rebellion and my family being wiped out.

Except we weren't.

Here I am, two years after I escaped Robert's hammer. I was fourteen when I was brought here, my sixteenth name day having just passed on the land where I was born.

Rhaenyra Stormborn. Princess of Dragonstone. Yet anyone who dare call me princess would lose their tongue for treason. Ward of Eddard Stark. The last Targaryen they call me. Except they know not of my sister across the narrow sea, and my brother who no doubt still unfortunately lives.

I haven't dared ask what's come of them, I doubt anyone even knows, and I've been to afraid to even speak of it, knowing how fragile my very existence is. I survived execution when I arrived due to how I shamed the king, but an assassin in the night is still very much a possibility. I dodged enough of them in my youth to know.

My arrival at Winterfell was far from warm as the shocked lord and his wife had no choice but to take us in, Lady Catelyn warning her children away from me despite how her eldest son's eyes lingered on me. I was quickly thrown into a new life of exile, except instead of a sprawling summer palace alongside my sister, I was alone in a realm of winter behind heavy doors.

It was there I found myself outcast alongside Jon, the only Stark who dared to not hide from my presence, and suddenly it was the two of us against the world.

A princess and a bastard, equals. Or at least we see it that way.

It's him now who comes to me while Winterfell celebrates with a feast.

"I noticed you were missing from the feast," he says as he comes in, closing the door behind us.

"You were allowed to go?" I ask in surprise, knowing how Catelyn is.

"Of course not," he answers, having brought me a goblet of wine. "But I poked my head in to see if you were there."

I just laugh as I accept the drink. "Well considering they're celebrating the death of my whole family I'd rather not sit there like a spectacle to be gawked at."

He sighs quietly. For so long he was so shy, would hardly speak a word to me, as a bastard having been told to not be seen nor heard, just as I was told upon arrival. Yet in each other's silence we found peace, solace, and slowly over the months that silence grew to half smiles and even a laugh, and then to a strange sort of companionship.

A strange companionship that scandalises Catelyn, but that Ned seems to allow.

For so long she kept me from her children, whether out of fear of my blood or of my name I don't know, but eventually Ned gave the command I should be educated alongside Sansa and Arya by their Septa. He allowed me to ride and hunt with Jon, Robb and Theon. Perhaps it was then she accepted Robb's attraction to me once it occurred to them Robert would not dare let me wed anyone he does not trust, but by then the damage had been done. It was irrevocably Jon and I against the world, no matter how close now I may become with her other children.

"Robb asked me to tell you that he would save a dance for you if you change your mind," Jon says and I laugh again. "You know he fancies you."

"Fancy yes," I admit. "I know I am a beautiful girl with a powerful name and a bad reputation. It sure took Catelyn long enough to trust I wouldn't corrupt her children. Now she fancies the thought I could be his wife."

He raises an eyebrow. "Would you?"

"Gods no," I dismiss, and catch his relief at that. "I have no desire to be the Lady of Winterfell."

"What about Robb?" he asks out of more than mere curiosity. "All the girls are mad for him."

"Then that makes me the exception," I say, taking a sip from my glass. "He is handsome, I can see why girls are mad for him but whatever affection he has for me is shallow. He has not fought for me once, instead following whatever it is his mother would like him to do. He- he doesn't even know me." I look at Jon. "Not like you do."

No one has ever known me as he does, nor would I want anyone else to ever come close to knowing me like that.

"Aye well, you didn't make it easy," he jokes, drawing a small smile from me. "You like making yourself mysterious."

I come to stand close to him, looking up into those dark eyes. "Because the mystery is the most intriguing part of me."

"I'd beg to differ," he says, bringing a knuckle up to my cheek and making me smile. "You just don't want anyone to see what you're really like."

"And what's that?" I tease.

"A girl who likes to play with swords," he says, eyeing the sword he forged me for my sixteenth nameday on my wall. "Who despite it all isn't as scary as she likes to pretend she is."

I laugh. "And who taught me to play with swords?"

"Only because you begged me to," he reminds me and laughs. "I swear Lady Stark was going to have my head when she found out."

He may laugh, but my heart sinks at the pain it hides and I lower my head to murmur "I hate how she treats you, how they all treat you."

"Rhae-"

"I hate it," I repeat and he puts a hand on my shoulder. "Just because Ned wasn't married to your mother you're less than your brothers?"

"It's how it is," he tells me for the hundredth time.

"But it shouldn't be," I tell him for the hundredth time. "No matter how many times you tell me otherwise it will never seem right to me."

"Well you have a more keen sense of justice than most," he says, hand running up and down my arm. "Strong enough that you're more angry about how I've been treated than yourself."

My eyes flicker to the book on Targaryen history that sits beside us I borrowed from Maester Luwin. "My father did awful, horrible things-"

"A daughter isn't to blame for her father's crimes," he reminds me, the very words he spoke to me a year ago that led me to trust him. "Nor should she suffer for them. You have as much of a right as anyone else to be down there with everyone instead of hiding up here."

It's then I make my decision and grab his hand. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" he asks as I open the door.

"To dance."

"Rhaenyra-" he protests as I drag him through the hall and down the stairs to the dining hall. "You don't have to do this to prove a point."

"Yes I do," I say as we come to the doors leading into the hall and bring my hair forward over my white dress. "How do I look?"

His eyes are soft. "Do I really need to tell you?"

I smile as I run my fingers through the black curls atop his head, neatening them. "Now you're ready too."

He sighs, knowing if I'm doing this then so is he. We do this together or not at all.

And so he opens the door for me, the hall falling quiet as I step inside accompanied by him. He walks just behind me as we walk through the centre of the room between the rows of tables and I bow politely to Lord and Lady Stark.

"My apologies for being late," I say as I rise.

"We did not expect your attendance," Catelyn says, who's always been the most sceptical of me.

"Well it would be a shame to let the good wine go to waste," I say, Jon pouring me a glass to make a toast with. "A toast to our good King Robert and of course to the death of my father King Aerys Targaryen second of his name." I can almost hear Catelyn now, chastising me for ruining a celebration with my treasonous mouth, but I care little as I raise my glass and drink from it, turning to the band. "Come on now, rejoice!"

As much as Catelyn does not like me due to my closeness with Jon, she still sees me as a suitor for Robb, her darling first born boy. I have no ill-will towards Robb, I like him, but certainly not in the way some may wish. So when I notice Catelyn having quiet words with Robb during the celebration I'm unsurprised when he comes to me.

"Robb," I greet with a polite bow of my head.

"Rhaenyra," he says, extending his hand which gathers the attention of the room. "May I have this dance?"

It's clear to me and everyone else this is a deliberate act of courting. Perhaps if I was a more timid girl I'd accept to please everyone, it's certainly what Varys advised me to do before sending me on my way North.

Except I'll never be that sweet timid girl they wish me to be. Perhaps it's what my brother calls the dragon that lives in us Targaryens. But much to the frustration of everyone I've crossed, I've never been good at keeping it hidden.

"Actually I had promised this dance to another," I say, the room on edge as I capture they're attention, circling the area before the high table where Ned and Catelyn sit. Much to the annoyance of Jon deciding that I do have to prove a point after all as I extend my hand towards him from where he stands by the wall giving me a warning look which I ignore. "Jon Snow, may I have this dance."

Reluctantly he steps forward, all eyes on us as he takes my hand, his eyes silently begging me not to do this, but it's too late now. "I don't dance."

Unlike his brother he was never taught such things, but then again neither was I.

"Then I'll lead."

The band begins playing again as I lead him out onto the dancefloor, horrified looks from everyone in the room, but I'm only looking at him. He anxiously goes to look towards Catelyn but I bring his face back to mine, my voice soft.

"Just look at me, no one else."

I bring his hand to my waist, taking the other in my own, every eye in the room on us. I'm sworn to no man, none daring to claim the rogue Targaryen girl. I'm free to dance with whatever man I wish, and there's only one I wish to dance with. No matter how scandalous.

Our very existences are a scandal, and we won't be hidden away quietly.

Not anymore.

He follows my lead, his feet clumsy and hands anxious, but I have enough confidence for the both of us as we dance in the hall before Winterfell's crowd, under the horrified gaze of Catelyn and as our dance comes to an end, his hands on my waist and mine around his neck, for the first time I see something change in Ned's eyes. 

"Lord Stark," I say, curtsying as I dismiss myself from the hall, having made my appearance and left the room in scandal. A reminder on this day of victory that the Targaryens still live.

I walk out into the courtyard outside, Jon following me out.

"Rhaeneyra." I look back to see he's beside himself with fear. "What was that?"

"A dance."

"It was a demonstration," he says, his voice almost accusational. "Why use me for it?"

"I would never use you," I protest, becoming defensive. "So what if it was a demonstration? We're the black sheep of Winterfell, hidden away and expected to be neither seen nor heard, so sue me for refusing to do so."

"You know what everybody will say," he says, frustrated. "What they'll believe-"

I could almost laugh. "Nothing they don't already believe."

He falls quiet, knowing it as well as I do. That they whisper of us. The princess and the bastard. Even if no one dares tell us it's wrong.

"You know what everybody whispers about us," I tell him, something neither of us have ever dared acknowledge. "Everybody knows how much we mean to one another. So what does it matter?"

"It matters because you shouldn't risk making them angry like that," he grits out. "Choosing me over Robb in front of everybody to make a point is careless, the last thing you need is people turning on you!"

"Half the country wants me dead!" I remind him. "I'm past being afraid of making people angry!"

He grabs my wrist and pulls me in, taking my face between his hands, his voice desperate. "I remember the day they brought you here in chains. The king could decide at any moment he wants you dead and there's nothing I'll be able to do to stop it." His voice quakes, and I realise it's not anger he feels, but fear. "You might not care about your life, but I do."

I look into those dark eyes, at a loss. "Then you might just be the only person in Westeros who does."

His next words leave me not knowing how to feel. "If that were true then you'd be dead."

"They care about my name, Rhaenyra Targaryen. I'm a pawn to them. You are the only person in the world who actually cares about me."

He must see the tears in my eyes as he pulls me into his arms, a hand in my hair and in his arms I feel safe, safe to let my guard down.

"Well if there's only one person in the world who does it's me," he murmurs, his forehead resting against mine. "Because you're the first person to ever look at me as more than a bastard."

His beard is rough beneath my hand as I touch his cheek. "Because you are, you're so much more than what the world sees."

I look up into his eyes, a look reserved only for me, except it's then we're interrupted.

A guard stands there and gives an order "Lady Rhaenyra, Lord Stark would look to see you in your room."

I nod and Jon says "Look don't worry, I'm sure he's just giving you a warning, I'll meet you up there okay?"

"Okay," I say, taking his reassurances with me as I head back inside, up the staircase and through the halls to where my bedroom is, in the same hallway as Sansa and Arya's.

Anxiously I hesitate outside my room, expecting Ned to be inside, but when I open the door it's empty. Confused I step inside only to catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye, but it's enough I run forward to the sword on table only to be grabbed by my hair and thrown into the stone wall, arms shielding my face as I'm beaten to the ground, kicking and screaming but it's not enough.

"No!" I cry out as the attacker grabs me by the hair and drags me across the floor, raising the dagger high up in the air as I thrash and fight, struggling against him for just long enough to scream out "Jon! Jon!"

Before the dagger can meet my flesh the door bursts open and the attacker is pulled from me, dagger hitting the ground as I scramble to my feet to find Jon beating the man bloody, and for some reason I don't stop him. Not as I pick up the blade and step forward with shaking legs to find the man's face unrecognisable, nose broken and face bloody. 

It's only then as Jon sees me he stops, knuckles bloody as I raise the dagger, only to be stopped by the guards that rush inside the room, pulling me back as Ned marches in, taking in the scene before him.

"Get off me!" I fight, Jon grabbing me out of the guards grasp and holding me back himself as Ned pulls the attacker up from the ground. 

"Who sent you?" Ned asks him as Jon holds me. "Who sent you to kill the princess."

The man does not answer, and it's as he opens his mouth with a bloody smile we see he has no tongue. 

"Kill him," I order, Ned looking back at me in shock. "Do it or I will."

"Rhaenyra-"

Jon lets me go so I can step forward, holding my head high. "Give me the damn blade."

He doesn't respond fast enough and so I snatch it out of his hand before the guards can pull me back, thrusting it into his neck, watching the blood stain spurt and stain the stone at my feet.

The room is silent as Jon comes forward, carefully removing the blade from my hand, Ned watching in shock at the blood covering us both. 

"Jon, you're going to take her North to the wall," Ned stammers. "Benjen will keep her safe until we can figure out who sent the assassin."

"So this is your answer?" Jon says to Ned, the first time I have ever heard him question his father. "To just send her away to the wall?"

"Until the threat has passed yes."

"The threat will never pass," I argue, knowing better than any of them ever could. "I've been running from assassins since the moment I was born. I know how to survive them." I look to Jon, the only person here I truly trust. "We'll go to the wall, but do not expect the threat to pass."

Jon doesn't argue, instead nodding as Ned says "Now you best leave tonight. I'm going to find out who saw what."

Ned leaves as the guards drag the body from the room, and the moment the door shuts Jon takes me in his arms, his bloody hand coming to touch my bruised cheek. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," I breathe, although he doesn't believe it, my shaking hand brings his bloody knuckles to my lips. "I'm fine, we're fine."

He pulls me in tight, lips on my forehead. "Get whatever you need and meet me by the stables."

I nod, holding onto him for a moment longer than I need. The blood on the floor should frighten me, as should the blood on his hands, but it's quite the opposite.

"Thank you," I breathe, holding his bloody hands in my own, unafraid. "I knew you'd come."

"You're lucky I was just down the hall," he says, the one who's afraid. "Otherwise-"

"Otherwise doesn't matter," I say to him. "I'm alive thanks to you, you'll keep me safe. You're the only one I trust to do so."

My faith in him must mean something, for he says "I will keep you safe, I promise."

"Now go," I tell him. "I'll meet you by the stables."

He nods and leaves to ready the horses for the journey while I turn to look at the blood on the floor, the guards having dragged the body out. I've never been a stranger to blood, but it is a bitter reminder I'll never be free of my enemies.

Which is why the first thing I grab is the sword Jon gifted me for my sixteenth nameday, one he had forged himself, the only present I received, the only one who cared enough. I spent a long time trying to find a name for it. The two ancestral swords of House Targaryen being Dark Sister and Blackfyre. Both lost to history. While I held it all I could think of was my sister across the narrow sea and the name we shared, Stormborn.

And so it came to me. Storm Sister. An ode to a sword lost and to a sister lost.

Quickly I find my riding clothes, the best fit and the warmest for the journey north, pulling my hooded cloak around my shoulders and lifting it to hide my silver hair, to disappear in the night with the one person in the world I trust. 

Taglist:

lovestruckgavemefeels daemonztargaryen iivysuga cxstrophobic

emisue-khaleesi siobhan-marie01 attackonthrones queenofnightdreamland jaehaerys-l canvashearts shipsandfics27 everybirdfellsilent angie1djonasgg dream-alittlebiggerdarling

fierygoddess-2

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Lou’s 2K(inky) Celebration!

Anything with a strikethrough is taken, the rest are still open. If you want to join, send me an ask. 

#1 rule: everything needs to be safe, sane, and consensual.

Otherwise, though... let’s get weird! 

1. Breathplay 

@whatareyousearchingfordean​: “Breathe Easy,” Jared x Reader

2. Pain kink - @wendibird​

My version: “This Tall To Ride,” Sam x Frank Iero

3. Kinbaku/Shibari rope bondage @thinkwritexpress-official​

4. Handcuffs

5. Shower sex 

 @fangirlxwritesx67​: “Cherry Blossom,” either Winchester x reader

My version: Part 3 of “Everything,” J2 x reader

6. Toys

My version: “Remote Control,” J2 x reader

7. Brat/brat tamer relationship

My version: Part 1 of “Chief,” Sam x Reader

8. Edging - @67-chevy-baby​

9. Blindfolding

10. Orgasm delay/denial

My version: Part 4 of “Everything,” J2 x Reader

11. Voyeurism 

@thoughtslikeaminefield​: “The Kinda Girl You Like,” Sam x OFC x Dean

My version: Part 5 of “Everything,” J2 x Reader

12. Impact play  

@wingedcatninja​: “Next Year: Part 1,” Dean x Reader

My version: Part 2 of “Chief,” Sam x Reader

13. Humiliation - @rockhoochie​

14. Claustrophilia (gettin turned on in tight spaces)

15. Quirofilia (attraction to hands!) 

 @fangirlxwritesx67​: “Like Art, Like Fire,” Sam x Reader

My version: Part 1 of “Everything” J2 x Reader

16. Temperature play (wax, ice, etc)

@thoughtslikeaminefield​: “The Kinda Girl You Like,” Sam x OFC x Dean

17. Role playing

@becs-bunker​: “Yes, Officer” Dean x Reader

18. Aftercare - @dean-winchesters-bacon​

My version: “After,” Dean x Cas 

19. Watching in a mirror 

 @mummybear​: “Gorgeous Green,” Dean x reader

My version: “Mirror,” either Winchester x reader

20. Collaring

21. Come play

My version: “Everything” Part 2, J2 x Reader

22. Pegging - @idabbleincrazy​

My version: “Straps,” either Winchester x Reader

23. Subspace/sub-drop

24. Non-sexual submission

25. Sub sharing 

@thoughtslikeaminefield​: “The Kinda Girl You Like,” Sam x OFC x Dean

My version: “Share,” either Winchester (both) x Reader

I’m gonna see how many of these I can write drabbles for, as well. I will reblog everything with detailed feedback and I’ll pick a couple favorites to highlight/promote again/share more of the author’s work.

More guidelines and info under the cut.

Word count: idgaf. Just use a Keep Reading break plz.

Deadline: idgaf. Like, by the end of January, I guess? I suck at deadlines, I’m not gonna enforce them on other people.

I’d rather not have your entry be part of an existing story. Like, if it can really be read as a stand-alone, fine, but... eh. Try to do something new.

Just to reiterate: SAFE. SANE. CONSENSUAL. I am all about consent! It’s important! Without consent, voyeurism isn’t voyeurism, it’s just creepy. Safe words are great. Aftercare is a prompt, yes, but not because it’s a kink, more because it’s sexy as fuck in its own right; aftercare is a must. Fifty Shades lied to you, there is nothing hot about an unhealthy relationship.

Feel free to overlap prompts! I don’t care if you incorporate other kinks/acts/tropes/whatever (give me ALL the dirty talk/sex pollen please) as long as you write about the prompt you chose.

I do not read “non-con” aka rape. Cannot, will not. Same goes for incest. Nope nope nope.

Ships are cool, RPF is cool, multiple pairings/threesomes or moresomes is cool, but no Samifer please. Just... no. And Wincest is still incest. See above. I have read the occasional hot as hell threesome with both Winchesters but honestly if it gets even a little incesty in tone my vag just shrivels up like the Sahara.

If you have any doubts/questions, please get in touch. Mostly just have fun and let your freak flag fly!

[galacticwildfire]

Fire on Fire | Jon Snow

Two

Rhaenyra Targaryen was raised alongside her twin Daenerys across the narrow sea, until a twist of fate brought Rhaenyra to Westeros. Separated from her beloved twin she is taken as Ned Starks ward, isolated in a foreign land. It is there she finds comfort in Jon Snow, Winterfell's bastard, outcasted as she is.

The two grow inseparable, that bond growing into something dangerous as war grows nearer, a bond Ned grows fearful of, yet he can not dare to ever breathe the truth to either of them.

Warnings: not a warning but I had to have Aemon here, he deserved to meet any, mentions of sexual abuse and near rape

Word count: 4k

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We ride fast into the morning, and well past dusk, putting as much space between us and Winterfell as we can before dark.

We tie our horses to a nearby tree as we make camp for the night, gathering firewood in a place far off the road to the wall, hidden away in the forest.

"I don't suppose you've ever spent the night in a forest," he asks, knowing well I was raised in Pentos.

"Only when I was being brought north," I tell him. "Although I was chained up with a bag over my head and tossed in the back of a wagon so I don't quite recall much of it."

He's uncomfortable at the reminder of the state I was in when we first laid eyes on one another. "Aye, I remember, the first thing father said when he set eyes on you was get her out of those chains."

"Your father is a more respectable man than Robert Baratheon," I say, not having to hide my disdain for the man with him. "Fourteen years old when he threatened to strike me down with his warhammer like he did my brother. A king indeed."

Ghost comes to sit in my lap, the pup having only been found several weeks ago. "Aye, he is known for his temper."

"As was my father," I say quietly. "I know the things he did, I know he was not a good man but I'll never be able to accept the fate Robert's rebellion brought upon my family. My brother-" I pause, never having spoken of him to Jon before, not truly. "He wasn't always the monster he is, they aren't born after all, they're made. I'll always believe that. He was seven, with two baby sister's to raise and two dead parents. Everything he'd ever known gone. He lost everything as just a boy, it's no wonder he took after my father." 

He listens intently, something I've always liked about Jon, the fact he listens. "It's okay to hate him you know."

"I know," I say sadly. "I do, I hate him for everything he's put Dany and I through, even if we would be dead without him." I shake my head, anger boiling within me. "I don't even know if she's still alive."

"You can't think like that," he says, watching how my nails dig into my palm and uncurling my fist. "You've managed to survive this long here in Westeros with a king who wants you dead, if she's anything like you I'm sure she'll be alright."

His words do comfort me, and I hold his hand tight. "I just miss her. When you grow up with a twin it's like- it's like there's another half of you. And to lose that... it feels like half of me is still missing. Now I'm a Targaryen alone in a land I barely know."

"With a bastard to keep you company," he says, making me laugh a little. "If they told me before you came that my one friend in the world would be a Targaryen princess I'd call them mad."

"It's not so mad," I say, looking at our entwined fingers. "As a Targaryen this is probably one of the least mad things to ever happen."

"Well for a bastard it's the most mad thing," he replies. "Or at least that's what everyone else thinks."

I lean in. "What everyone else thinks doesn't matter. Here we are in the middle of nowhere, no one would ever find us." I look to the east. "We could get on a ship, and no one would ever know what happened to us."

He follows where I'm looking. "Except if we were ever found we'd both be executed for treason."

It's then it dawns on me. "I'm a prisoner here Jon. A ward yes, but just look at Theon, it's a fancy word for prisoner."

"Would you go back to Pentos if you could?" he asks me. "To find your sister?"

It's all I want. I can not even begin to think of my life here without her. I cannot let myself have peace until I free her from our brother.

"In a heartbeat," I answer, resting my head on his shoulder, daring to ask "If I did, would you come with me?"

"In a heartbeat."

I smile at the thought of it. "I want to show you what it's like to lay by the coastline, bathing in the sun, to look out at the sea." The thought brings tears to my eyes. "We might have lived a life of exile, but it was never a prison."

His fingers run through my hair. "Maybe one day we will."

"One day," I repeat wistfully as I let sleep take me. "It can't come soon enough."

~

I stay firmly beside Jon as we're allowed inside the gates of Castle Black, both of us still in awe of the wall. It being something you can never truly imagine unless you've seen it.

The Lord Commander comes, watching us from above.

"Here to join the watch lad?"

"No my lord," Jon says, speaking for us. "I am here on the orders of my father, Lord Eddard Stark."

"Are you Robb?" the man asks, and I watch the way Jon's eyes fall for just a moment.

"No," he answers. "I am Jon Snow, Lord Stark's bastard."

That gets whispers from the men, but the Lord Commander turns his attention to me, still cloaked.

"And who do you bring with you."

It's then I remove my hood, the response from the men being immediate, enough to make jon uncomfortable but my voice is clear. "Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen."

An old man stumbles forth from the scaffolding above. "Targaryen?!"

It's then a man who I recognise as Benjen Starks comes for us, ushering us out of public sight.

"Princess, I received a raven from Ned," he says, taking me arm and leading me up the stairs. "Come with me."

I reach back for Jon's hand, taking it as we're ushered inside a room with the Lord Commander.

"Many here at the wall were sent here at the end of Robert's Rebellion," Jeor Mormont tells me. "I damn well say half the wall are Targaryen loyalists."

"I- I didn't realise," I say quietly, the thought that some may actually still not want me dead a surprise. "My brother Viserys, he always said the people of Westeros were waiting for us, would raise their swords and rally their armies the moment we arrived back on Westeros soil. But I found quite the opposite."

I believed his delusions until I was paraded through the streets of Kings Landing, the fact I still live is proof enough do not want me dead, but I am careful not to overestimate my support in Westeros.

"Viserys?" the maester says as he walks in. "King Aerys' second son."

"Yes," I say, confused. "He is."

"I believed after my brother's son was murdered, that his foresons had died with him," he says and my heart stops as I realise who it is I am speaking to. "But no, his daughter is here."

"Aemon," I breathe, taking his hands in mine. "I- I thought there were no Targaryen's left."

"As did I child," he says, tears coming to my eyes. "Now tell me, what has come of your brother."

"Viserys he- my mother's guards took us across the narrow sea when she died in childbirth," I tell him. "He and my twin Daenerys, they're alive in Pentos."

"Alive," he breathes and smiles. "Twins, oh the heavens have blessed us. Tell me child, do you share the same face as your sister?"

We do not. Twins we may be, but our faces have never been the same. Something Viserys often commented on, as if trying to use it as an excuse to be rid of me, as if I was some bastard put in my sister's cradle. "We are twins yes, although not identical."

"Describe yourself to me child," he says. "For I cannot look upon you with my own eyes."

"Her face is paler, more full. Our eyes are different, Viserys often said Daenerys has my mother's eyes but that mine were of a strangers," I tell him, the odd memories coming to mind. "The poets would say she is the moon, and I am the sun. Two halves of heaven."

He smiles. "Oh that I would believe, the last daughters of our great dynasty, our last hope."

Tears slip down my cheeks as I smile, looking over to Jon who stands there with a warm smile on his face, and I feel Benjen's hand on my shoulder.

"Come princess, it's late, I need to speak with Maester Aemon and the Lord Commander."

The interruption is uprubt, but I don't resist as I'm taken to one of the guest rooms in castle black. But as the night grows dark and I can hear the men below, can hear them speaking of me in the way men do I look at the bolted door, yet still do not feel safe.

And so I find him.

Quietly I push his door open, unbolted, but as I man he's never had to think of such things. "Rhaenyra?"

"Can I stay with you?" I ask Jon, looking at where he lies in bed. "I do not feel safe with the types of men around here."

"Of course," he says, making room for me and I squeeze in between him and the wall, yearning for some sort of body heat. "You're cold aren't you?" 

"Cold?" I laugh quietly as he pulls the blanket up around me. "It's cold enough it's made me realise of all the seven hells at least one has to be here."

He chuckles, his breath warm and comforting. "It could be worse."

"Aye, but I'd much rather be across the sea," I tell him, my fingers stroking his dark curls out of his face. "I don't like this."

"Like what?" he asks, not knowing whose words haunt me. The words of Varys in Kings Landing, this attempt on my life is only proof that he's right. I'm playing this game whether I like it or not. 

"Life," I tell him, not knowing quite how to put it. "I don't want to play these games, running from assassins and smiling in rooms full of people. I want my sister, I want to go home."

"You are home," he tells me. "Westeros is your home."

"If that's true then I'd rather be homeless as I've always been."

He lets me rest my head on his chest, running his fingers through my hair. "Aye, but you aren't alone, I can promise you that."

I grip his hand tight. "You're all that I have here, Jon. I have no family, nothing. My only blood sworn to the wall and my sister across the sea. You're the only thing keeping me from throwing myself from the top of that wall."

"Rhae-"

"It's true," I breathe shakily, the thought having crossed my mind more than I could ever admit. "From the moment I stepped foot on Westeros soil I expected death, from either my hand or anothers."

He turns my chin up to look at him, his voice wavering "Rhaenyra."

"When I arrived at Winterfell all I could imagine was throwing myself from one of the towers, until I met someone else who felt like they would never belong." I stroke his bearded cheek, easing him. "Catelyn kept me from the Stark children, but there was one she couldn't keep me from."

The corner of his lip turns upwards. "I'm not a Stark."

"You're right," I say, looking into those dark eyes. "You are a Snow, and I am a Targaryen. Half of Winterfell hates you for being a bastard, the living reminder of Ned's indiscretion, the other half hates me for being a Targaryen, the living reminder of his sister's indiscretion. We are two people the world wishes didn't exist, yet here we are, and they can learn to live with it."

"Aye," he actually agrees. "Perhaps your right."

"When aren't I?" I tease, feeling at ease with him, feeling my body half covering his in the small bed, something that would be scandalous if it weren't us. I'd say he was like a brother if it weren't for the way he made me feel. I trust him as one should trust a brother, but I feel something else entirely. 

And I know he feels it as well with the touches that linger, the looks we share. We both know it. Even if it seems impossible. Because deep down despite our dreams, he knows he is a bastard, I know he never wants to father children for the fear of passing on the name snow. And me, I know my fate as a princess, I know the real reason I wasn't killed the moment I was dragged in chains into the red keep. A Targaryen womb is a priceless thing.

Yet when I look at him I cannot help but dream of running away with him.

His knuckle brushes my cheek, and I know how I must look to him here in his bed, eyes wide and vulnerable for him only. The only person in this realm who can see me like us. I know what they call me in winterfell. The stone faced girl. The white ghost. For when I smile it's only ever for him. 

My forehead rests against his, nose bumping his, and with my eyes closed it's all I can do not to kiss him. Because the moment I do this illusion is gone. The innocence we can feign, claiming him as the brother I never had. I've said as much to Ned. But we know the truth.

"Sweet dreams," he murmurs, bringing his lips up to my forehead, softly kissing my brow before tucking my head beneath his chin, my face resting in the warmth of his neck, breathing him in.

We spend most of the nights like that for the next fortnight, I spending my days with Aemon while he spends his with Benjen before coming to his room in the night, the nights ours and ours alone.

I almost feel peaceful here at the end of the world, until a few words from Benjen send me mad.

"The king is coming to winterfell."

The king is coming.

Those words instil a fear in me like no other.

The king who murdered my brother. 

He is coming.

My time is up. I can't wait any longer. If I fall back into Robert's hands I may never be able to go back for her.

"Then I will not return to Winterfell."

"Princess," Benjen warns. "You are a ward of Winterfell and if you are not there when he comes then every soldier at his disposal will be searching for you to bring you back in irons."

"I don't fear the thought of chains for I've already been in them," I reply coldly. "So let them come! I'll gladly kill the bastards if they can hunt me down, I have a horse and a sword and know my way to the nearest port. I'd like to see them try."

For a moment he looks at me, as if I'm somebody else. "Rhaenyra, please."

"He murdered my father and brother," I remind him. "He would have struck me down with his warhammer in the throne room if not for the outrage it would have caused. I will not give him a second chance."

"Rhaenyra!" he calls out as I walk away from him, half running  to my room, in the madness getting my cloak, pulling the furs tight around me before I even realise what I'm doing, but the moment I do I'm securing my sword around my waist.

I jump as the door open's but it's only Jon.

"Bar it," I order, and he does so without question, but still hesitates.

"What are you doing?"

"Preparing to leave."

"Rhaenyra-"

"Robert Baratheon is coming to Winterfell and I've been ordered to return," I tell him, knowing what I have to do. "I thought I'd have more time but I need to leave."

"Rhae..."

"Come with me," I plead with Jon. "Come with me away from this place."

He stares at me in bewilderment. "Where would we go?"

"Anywhere we wanted," I breathe, hands clutching his face. "I can't go south, I can't. I won't do it."

His resolve begins to crumble. "They'll hunt us down."

"Jon, please" I plead. "Come with me." I pull the rings off my fingers. "This can get us safe passage to Pentos, to my brother. Come with me."

"Rhaenyra," he grits out in frustration. "All you've told me of your brother is how cruel he is, how he would sell you to the highest bidder-"

"I am a princess Jon," I remind him, not caring for that at the present. "That is my fate-"

"And what if he's already married your sister off," he says, my blood running cold. "You told me yourself he has two sisters, one to sell and one to marry. You want to run away I get that, but to run back to him? Are you mad?"

My face becomes stone. "You know I hate that word."

"The idea of returning to Pentos, it isn't real," he says harshly. "How can you hate Winterfell more than your brother?"

I look at him, fighting tears. "I thought you understood, perhaps I was wrong."

"I do understand," he grits out. "But you can't just run away to your brother who'd sooner give you away to be raped than face the king!"

"Is that what you truly think this is about?" I exclaim. "I know what my brother is! Which is why I cannot leave my sister with him for him to rape or sell to another beast of a man to be raped!" He falls silent. "I will not abandon her! I never planned to stay here, I've been biding my time until I can go back for her, and now time's up!"

His voice is a plea "Rhae please."

"If it were Arya or Sansa would you leave them!" I yell, the pain I've harboured for so long finally breaking free. "If it were your sisters would you! I escaped! I escaped my fucking brother and all I've felt since the moment I arrived in Winterfell is an unbearable guilt of knowing exactly what will befall my sister! Now I'm gone he has to choose if he'll marry her or sell her, I don't know which is worse!"

"Rhaenyra, please," he pleads, trying to calm me down. "I'm sorry I- I'm sorry."

"Do you think he never hurt me!" I cry out, tears catching in my voice. "Do you think he'd never tear my clothes and throw me to the ground just to remind me he can do whatever he wants to me!" Tears wet my cheeks as I struggle for breath. "The man who fostered us put guards outside mine and my sister's doors at night to protect us from him! I don't give a shit about Robert or the rest, I just want to kill the bastard like I should have years ago!"

He pulls me into his arms and it's then I break down, the guilt and agony I've carried since the moment the slavers hauled me into their ship finally crushing me, but he's there to hold me up.

"I can't do it again," I tell Jon. "I can't have another man put his hands on me. Whether it's my brother or a king or a slaver."

He looks at me confused. "Why would anyone-"

"The king is coming Jon," I remind him, breathing in a shaken breath. "I am sixteen, a woman to be wed and with no man to decide to who that burden falls to the king who could have his way with me as he pleases or give me to that horror of a son I hear of." Something in his face changes, like a burning fire beneath stone. "If I go to Pentos, the only man trying to fuck me is my brother, and I know how to deal with him. If I stay here half of the lords in this damned country will want to have their way with me, the last Targaryen. The spoils of war."

His voice holds no hesitation, no doubt. "I won't let that happen."

"How?" I ask him in exasperation. "How can you and I stand against a king?"

"We'll find a way," he promises me, holding my face between his hands. "I promise."

And I believe him. 

"I don't trust any man but you," I tell him. "Please, please just don't leave my side."

"Never," he promises me, as if we have control over that. "Now come here."

He holds me tight, but I hold him tighter, clutching onto him as if he's my last piece of sanity in all of this. 

When I can finally breathe he brings me to Aemon, I've never had a grandfather, but Aemon has become the closest I'll ever know to one. 

"The King is coming North," Jon tells Aemon. "Rhaenyra's been ordered to return to Winterfell."

"The king," he scoffs. "Robert Baratheon is no king. Cowering in the face of a young girl, you know what he did to your niece and nephew." His voice holds an anger I have only ever heard in my brothers. "Butchering them like- not even animals suffer such a fate."

I'd heard they were killed, but never how. "How?"

He's visibly sick, shaking from anger. "Butchered by the Mountain on the orders of Tywin Lannister, their mother raped with their on his hands, the girl- Rhaenys - was stabbed to death, a mere baby while the boy had his head slammed into the wall. Butchered."

Jon's pale with horror while I shake with an anger unlike any I've ever known, an anger that even Visery's pales to and I speak "How do we get justice?"

"Justice," he repeats. "You will find young Rhaenyra, there is no such thing, only vengeance. 

"You want my advice?" he asks. "Kill the girl Rhaenyra, winter is coming, and for the realms of men to survive there must be a Targaryen on the throne. This is the prophecy, passed down from Aegon the Conqueror and now to you."

I stare at him bewildered, and it's Jon who asks "What do you mean?"

"You shall see," he tells us. "Once Winter comes, and that day is coming fast, you must be on the throne, you must have the Seven Kingdoms united to face the coming winter if we are to survive."

"I- I don't want to bring war," I tell him. "I don't want to bring death upon the kingdoms for a throne. All I want is my sister safe."

"War is coming, death shall follow regardless if you choose to fight or not," he warns me. "A Targaryen must sit on the throne, if you want your sister safe then you must fight. You must wake the dragon."

I look at the ring on my finger, one of the only thing's left of my mother's Viserys never sold, a ring fashioned from steel, worthless in it's weight, but it carries the sigil of our house.

"If a Targaryen must seat the throne," I begin, knowing it in my gut, in my heart. "Then it cannot be Viserys."

"Remember your namesake," he tells me. "Rhaenyra Targaryen."

I know her story well, a queen struck from history.

What did she suffer for if I would just give it up?

"I need to go south," I realise finally and look to Jon. "Ready the horses."

But before he can go Aemon speaks. "Your uncle has told me of you Jon Snow."

Jon's confused. "He has?"

"Oh yes, indeed," he says, as if there is some great piece of this mad puzzle we are missing. "You must protect the princess, you two must not allow yourselves to be separated. For she is not the last Targaryen, and you must be united if we are to survive."

His words seem to go over Jon's head, the mumblings of an old man, but not mine. I can't miss the strangeness of them, but I can't bring myself to seek clarity, instead I nod and promise Aemon "I won't let our family end with us."

~

Jon and I walk through Molestown, he keeping a close eye on me, still convinced I intend to disappear to the nearest port.

He grabs my wrist as I step up the stairs to the brothel "Rhaenyra-"

"Where else am I going to find a seamstress in a town like this," I reply and order him "Wait out here."

He reluctantly agrees as I walk up the steps inside, finding multiple men I recognise from the wall inside with women in various states of undress.

A well dressed woman flushes at the sight of me, and approaches.

"May I help you?"

"I would like a dress made," I tell the madam and she looks me up and down incredulously.

"This is no place for a lady."

"I'm no lady," I say pulling back my hood. "The princess of dragonstone requires a dress be made, are you able to assist."

She eyes me in disbelief. "So it is true, the Targaryen girl did go to the Wall."

"And now the king is coming north," I tell her, knowing her ladies will no doubt make the journey for business. "I am sure there must be a seamstress in here."

"Aye," she says, waving a woman over. "She can help yer, what do you need."

"A dress of red and black," I tell her, knowing Catelyn would never let me touch either colour when making my dresses, and so I only wore white. The white ghost of Winterfell some have come to call me. "I want it to be bold enough they'll want to put me in chains."

She nods her head. "As you wish milady."

"Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen," I correct. "It's a name you'll wish to remember."

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Fire on Fire | Jon Snow

Prologue

Rhaenyra Targaryen was raised alongside her twin Daenerys across the narrow sea, until a twist of fate brought Rhaenyra to Westeros. Separated from her beloved twin she is taken as Ned Starks ward, isolated in a foreign land. It is there she finds comfort in Jon Snow, Winterfell's bastard, outcasted as she is.

The two grow inseparable, that bond growing into something dangerous as war grows nearer, a bond Ned grows fearful of, yet he can not dare to ever breathe the truth to either of them.

Warnings: Viserys. Mentions of slavers, sexual slavery, robert baratheon

Word count: 1k

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~

Neither Daenerys nor I knew our parents. Our father had been stabbed in the back before our mother even gave birth to us. She had barely lived long enough to name us. 

Rhaenyra and Daenerys, Princesses of Dragonstone. Stormborn.

I've certainly always felt as if I was. If I had known my mother I would say Daenerys takes after her, for I always felt an anger that could only have come from my father. Anger at him for leaving us with Viserys. Anger at every time Daenerys and I wondered which of us would be wed to him and the other wed to whichever warlord for an army. 

We both feared our brother, how couldn't we with his rage? Except my sister would turn her head and keep her mouth closed in fear of invoking the dragon, it stewed in me to the point that I couldn't look at him without wishing him dead.

Some nights I would sneak inside his room with a dagger in hand, wanting to end it, wanting to end the fear. Except the only reason we weren't already dead was our name, and those who wanted him on the throne. The last male Targaryen. Neither Daenerys or I had claim to anything while he lived, as much as I dreamed of putting a knife to his throat.

But I would never get the chance.

For it must have been a slip of fate, or pure horrible luck, that brought me into the path of the slavers. 

It was Viserys's rage that led him to strike Daenerys after a discussion of Targaryen history led to an argument, in which Daenerys and I said my namesake Rhaenyra was Viserys's true heir and not Daemon. He despised the fact we could ever believe a woman heir over a trueborn male Targaryen. He struck her believing her to be the weak sister, for her heart was kinder than my own,  but made a sore mistake, for if it had been me he struck instead of her I would not have pulled a blade on him. And if he had not screamed for his guards perhaps I would have finally done it.

But no. I ran, I ran from Illyrio's palace and through the streets of Pentos, pursued by the unsullied who guarded us. And it was a twist of fate that led me to run into the path of slavers.

I was thrown beaten with a bag over my head into their boat and taken aboard their ship. A rarity like me they said would fetch a pretty price, except they quickly realised just who they had bruised and shackled below deck was priceless.

I thought I was as good as dead, or at least I certainly wished for death by the time we reached Kings Landing. The slavers were greeted like princes while I was paraded, bloodied and bruised through the city, the spoils of war. Led to the Red Keep by the shackle around my neck.

Despite the heckling, despite the fear, I refused to lower my eyes. I kept my chin high as I was brought into the Red Keep. The entire court watching, some in horror, others in awe as I was led towards the Iron Throne. A thing I only recognised from how my brother described it.

Yet it seemed underwhelming with the usurper on it.

The room was dead silent as the king ordered "Bow before your king."

I refused to move, looking him in the eye, knowing exactly who he saw when I stood there.

"Bow!" he raged as the Kingsguard beat me until I fell to my knees. I knew the court could not help but look on in horror at the kingsguard beating a fourteen year old girl on the orders of a king.

I looked up at the usurper, my voice strong. "I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne. You are not my king."

It was then he stood from his throne and demanded. "Bring me my warhammer! Let me show the Targaryen girl how her brother fell on the Trident!"

"Go ahead," I challenged before the court. "Are you so afraid of a woman stealing your throne that you would strike her down!"

The silence echoed throughout the room and the king breathed dangerously "Do you brand me a coward?"

"I brand you a usurper," I said as I came to my feet, despite how my body shook. "A usurper and a murderer with the blood of children you feared staining your hands."

The blood of my niece and nephew on the hands of a coward. 

The king cannot speak, although he looked so consumed which rage his head would burst into flames if only I spoke once more, and so I did.

"Kill me," I told him numbly. "Prove yourself a coward to the realm by murdering the last Targaryen on Westeros soil."

It's then a bald man came and whispered in the king's ear, although the king did not seem to like what he said for he marched from the throne room, hushed whispers echoing from the court as my eyes rested on the throne my family sat upon for hundreds of years until the kings guards took me away.

I'd waited in the cells below the keep for what felt like days before the bald man came to me.

"Princess," he said, bowing his head to me. "What brought you to Westeros."

"Slavers," I replied stiffly, in no mood to exchange small talk. "Tell me, am I to die?"

He shakes his head. "Not today. After much convincing the King has permitted you to be taken North to be the ward of Lord Eddark Stark."

A name I knew not, yet it relieved me. "Thank you."

"Do not thank me, princess," he says, opening the gate of the cell. "If you wish to survive you best learn to play the game."

I blinked at him in confusion. "What game."

"The only game that matters." He extended his hand to me. "The game of thrones."

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