Orys Targaryen/Jon Snow?
Castle Black – Jon Chambers.
He woke with a gasp as he felt the first knife of Bowen in his side. "Damn," He exclaimed as he sat straight up from his makeshift bed. He felt a warm tongue lick his face and the small chirping of dragons. "Thanks, boy." He said as he buried himself in Ghost's neck.
"Orys is everything all right." Shireen had awoken and looked at him, confused. "I'm, yet I suspect my death will haunt me for some time still. I dream I was being stabbed again." Shireen nodded and gave him a sympathetic look.
"How are you? Did you get any sleep?" He asked, and looking into her eyes felt the same connection again as in the fires. "I did. It seems I was giving peace this night," Shireen answered with a slight smile. She had a pretty smile.
"That's a blessing, then. I'm sorry about what happened to you, Shireen. Nobody should gone through what you did." He said as he stood up and sat beside her on the bed. The two dragons did the same climb up the bed.
She didn't say anything. She only embraced him and sobbed into his chest. He just held and gently stroked her back and held the girl burned by her own parents. 'I need to protect her.' He thought a fiery rage toward Red Witch, Stannis, and Selyse burn a new. "Melisandra will pay for what she has done. I swear that to you. She will pay with her life. As for your mother, that's a decision you will have to make for yourself."
Shireen looked up at him with her tear-streaked face, "I don't know, she was wailing to stop it from happening to me, and she came to stop it but was stopped from doing so. Yet, she never was a mother to me. She only looked at me as a disappointment because of my greyscale or that I wasn't a son."
"That is something I understand all too well. I didn't have a mother, but I knew of a mother's disappointment or scorn. Lady Stark was the only mother figure I knew, and she blamed me for being her husband's bastard. What turned out I wasn't. She never hit me or anything like that but always told me I wasn't welcome in Winterfell. I remember the last thing she said before leaving for the Wall. She used my own to get my addition, which she had never done before. It was always Snow, boy, or bastard. You see, my little brother Bran had fallen from a tower and was in a coma. I wanted to say goodbye to him before I went to Wall. I did, but just before I was out of the door, Lady Stark said my name. I looked at her, and she said, 'It should have been you.'" Orys let out a sigh. 'That time was so far away now.' He thought as he looked at the door of his chambers.
"So, about your mother, she is probably partly responsible for the decision. But in my opinion, she was in grief over what she did, and perhaps it was best to let her live with her guilt. Like I did with your father, he will do his duty to watch, all while he has to think about what he has done. Let her live and show them both what a mistake they made." He said as he took her hand. "I shall think on it. I just don't know how to let go. I feel so much pain and grief inside me, and it can go nowhere." Shireen said with a shudder.
"Perhaps it can, and you take back control," Orys said, and she looked at him with those blue eyes. "Sliverwing," There he said. He had speculated who those dragons were and by things, he remembered from his lessons and reading. Only three dragons could possibly still be alive now, and as he knew, the two dragons had gone into hibernation in a dragonglass cogon. Three dragons had adult dragons had survived the dance of the dragons by all accounts. Sheepstealer, Sliverwing and the Canniba, the how and why Sliverwing and the Cannibal made to Skagos, he did not know. Perhaps it was to wait for him, but the answer probably never got.
"Sliverwing? You mean I could ride her, but I'm not a Targaryen." Shireen asked, confused. "Yet, when your prye was burned, you weren't burnt, neither when we walked out of the fire. Sliverwing wasn't focused on me but on you. Tell me something: Did you feel fear when you looked at Sliverwing? Or something else?" He questioned her.
Shireen frowned, and then she spoke timidly. "I felt no fear; perhaps I felt a fondness and protectiveness."
"Well, it's said Sliverwing was a gentle creature, and don't forget Queen Alysanne rode her. A wise and gentle queen, wish reminds me of you." He added, and Shireen blushed, 'the blush is making her look prettier,' He thought. "But Sliverwing was also ridden by Ulf White, the betrayer. He and Hugh Hammer betrayed Rhaenyra and changed the dance. What does say of the dragon that man rode her." Shireen questioned.
"Don't forget Ulf was called Ulf the Sot. I wouldn't be surprised if the dragon took pity on the drunkard and thought it a helpless hatchling." Orys grinned as he saw a smile appear on Shireen's face, yet it saddens not much later.
"That might be true, but why would Silverwing accept me? I'm a fallen princess, burned alive by her own parents. I'm nothing but weakness," Shireen whispered, her voice trembling as tears welled in her eyes. She let her head fall, unable to meet his gaze, the weight of her past dragging her down.
He gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. Her tear-streaked blue eyes met his, filled with a sorrow that mirrored his own. "No, Shireen, you are not weak," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You're strong. You walked out of the flames. You're kind, you're smart, and you've survived greyscale and a life not many could endure." His words were filled with a fiery passion.
And then, without thinking, he closed the distance between them and kissed her.
It was a kiss born out of need out of a deep, unspoken yearning that neither had dared to voice until now. He melted into the kiss, his thoughts briefly consumed by the warmth of her lips against his. 'He left his Rheanys in the North, in danger of the red witch,' Elia's words echoed in his mind. 'Did they mean Shireen? Is that why I feel this pull? '
Shireen didn't push him away. Instead, she pulled him closer, her fingers clutching desperately at the collar of his shirt as if she were afraid he might disappear. Shireen's lips pressed harder against his, seeking comfort and validation.
One hand held her face, which was once greyscale held firm, now only a fading pink blush. The other held her back, and after a few moments of bliss that seemed to last an eternity, they broke apart.
"Why?" Shireen asked breathlessly. "I don't know, not truly, yet I felt a longing for you. A desire to hold, to protect you. A strang fiery passion." Orys mumbled as he still held her close. "Orys, I feel the same, as if my heart is filled where once was a hole," Shireen added.
"Shireen, I don't know why, but I feel. Yet when I saw you on that prye, afraid and in pain. I only thought of how I needed to protect and hold you close. I feel a fire inside me that has never been let out, my desires, my wishes. Never could let out. A bastard has nothing to wish for. I wanted to be the lord of Winterfell and feel the appreciation my brother felt, a mother's love. Yet with my death comes my rebirth. Perhaps it's time I let maester Aemon's word sung true." He said with a heavy breath.
"Let boy Jon Snow, the bastard son of Eddard Stark, die, and let the man Orys Targaryen, the trueborn son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, be born," Orys said, then a roar outside echoed his words. They both looked toward the door, and he smiled and thought. 'It seems some agree.'
Then he looked toward Shireen. "What do you say, Shireen? Will you let the girl that was put on the pyre die and let the woman that I see before me live?" He asked as he held her face, as a fire burn of passion burned in his heart.
Shireen nodded, and then she closed the distance between them. She kissed him with the same passion he did before.
"Mmm, you can kiss me anytime." He said after breaking apart from her, causing her to blush. "You know, you are pretty when you blush." He said as he stood up. "Oh, I never ever told I'm pretty," Shireen said. "Well, even before the greyscale disappeared, I thought so. I saw you laugh once with Gilly, and I thought It was the most beautiful smile I had ever seen."He said with a grin.
"Well, I will order some food and some riding leathers, as I doubt we could ride a dragon in these." He said this as he gestured to both their clothing. "Are you sure we should do it now? We shouldn't wait until the situation is settled." Shireen questioned.
"Perhaps, but if we ride a dragon, things will go much more straightforward. Although we already have the Freefolk support, I still can't believe they knelt. They do not kneel Shireen. Yet they did for us." He said, looking at her still sitting on the bed. "Us?" Shireen said with a raised brow.
"Us, you came walking out flames just as much as me. With a dragon looking at you and a dragon clinging to you." He said. Both hatchlings chirped in agreement. "See, even the dragons,"
"Alright, Orys arranged for some warm riding clothes, then I join you to the dragons and see if your faith in me is warranted." She said with a smile.
He walked to the door, opened it, and saw his loyal steward sitting on the chair with his eyes closed. Satin, the sex worker of Mole's town, is now a delight steward for the previous lord commander of the Night Watch. "Satin?"
"Lord Commander," the boy squeaked, almost falling from the chair. "I'm no longer the Lord Commander, yet as my steward, could you arrange for Princess Shireen and me to be brought ridding leathers and some food to break or fast." He asked, and the boy was on it, feet in a heartbeat. "Of course, my lord.." Satin said unsurely. "Just call me Jon for now. Some things might change after today. Perhaps they already have." He added, seeing Satin struggle with the change.
He watched Satin scramble away, then turned back to the room where Shireen sat, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of the blankets on the bed. "He will be back soon. Satin was always a diligent steward."
As promised, a knock on the door announced Satin's return. The young man entered with two pieces of clothing, one for Shiereen and him. "Thank you." He said, and Satin nodded before leaving to find them some food. "Here these are once you can be. They are clothing for the younger boys we train."
He turned around, giving her privacy to change, but Shireen spoke up mischievously before he could take a step. "Truly, Orys? Or have you forgotten that we both emerged from the pyre as naked as the day we were born? I think we've seen everything there is to see of each other by now. Besides, I slept in your room—something a lady and a man shouldn't do unless they're married or younger siblings."
He looked at her wide-eyed. "Shireen, I understand that, but I'm still a decent man. A good man would grant a lady, especially a princess, her privacy. If circumstances were to change in the future, I wouldn't disagree with watching you dress and undress," he added boldly, surprising even himself with his words. Had he just hinted at marriage? They had kissed, and there was no denying the desire he felt for her.
Shireen stepped closer, her voice teasing. "Oh? And what circumstances might those be?"
He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure. "You know what I mean."
"No, I don't. I'm just an innocent maid who knows nothing," she replied, closing the distance between them until he could smell her, that intoxicating scent again.
Finally, he spoke the words he'd never dared to before. He had never wanted to saddle his children with the name Snow, but now, as a trueborn Targaryen prince, he could say it. "That you, Shireen, would be my wife." He dropped the clothes he had been holding and pulled her into his arms, his lips finding hers once more.
"I don't know why this is happening so quickly or why I want it so badly. I only know I feel a connection to you, unlike anything I've felt before." He repeated the words he said before and marveled at the intensity of his feelings.
"Wife?" Shireen asked, her shy demeanor returning, the one he had come to know so well.
"Mmm, wife," he confirmed, claiming her lips again.
"I want that too—to be your wife." She stammered. "I never truly thought I'd get married. I was always so isolated from the world. My only friend on Dragonstone was Patchface, and Ser Davos was kind, but he's gone now, killed by the Manderlys. But I want to be with you, be held by you, and feel safe with you. I felt it the moment you woke on the pyre—that connection, that sense of safety." She breathlessly stared into his eyes, and he saw tears forming.
"Then, If you allow me to hold and protect you until I brief my last breath, what I hope will be in the distant future." He said, and she nodded, and he kissed her again.
A knock broke the moment. They broke apart. "Enter." He called through the door. Satin entered, balancing trays of bread, cheese, and steaming bowls of stew. "The best I could find is kind of earlier noon," Satin said, placing the trays down on the table.
"Thank you," Jon said, clapping the boy on the shoulder. Satin nodded, left the chamber, and closed the door behind him.
Shireen looked at Jon, a playful glint returning to her eyes. "Well, I suppose we should finish getting dressed and break our fast quickly. Those dragons won't wait for us forever."
They dressed quickly, the moment between them still hanging in the air, sweet and full of promise. They turned to face each other when they were clad in the thick, fur-lined leather.
She looked good in her riding letters. "It suits you, and soon you will be a dragon rider like Visenya and Rhaenys. Also, we won't be the first black hair dragon riders…" He said he wanted to say more, but Shireen interrupted him. "Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter of Aemon Targaryen and Jocelyn Baratheon, she road the dragon Meleys, named the red queen for her gleaming red scales." He smirked at her. "See, you fit right in. You know the history of our forebears quite well." He said with a smile.
He looked toward the food. " Come, let's eat, and we go and see our dragons."
They sat down at the table, and Jon quickly filled two bowls with the steaming stew. He handed one to Shireen, who accepted it with a grateful smile. For a few moments, they ate in silence, the only sounds in the room being the clink of spoons against bowls and the crackle of the fire.
"This is good," Shireen said, breaking the quiet as she tore off a piece of bread. "True, weirdly, the food is decent on the Wall. A pity the Night Watch never learned to make a good ale." He said with mock sadness.
He reached out, covering her hand with his. "We should get going. It's time we truly meet our fiery companions."
Shireen looked at their joined hands and then back up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of determination and warmth. "You're right. Let's not keep them waiting."
They stood up, and Jon led her to the door. Before they stepped out, he turned to her one last time. "Ready?"
Shireen squeezed his hand, her voice steady and full of resolve. "Ready."
With that, he pushed open the door, and as the morning sun was starting to sine of Castle Black and leaving the Wall in pale blue.
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