CHAPTER ONE
[ asena stark ]
"THEY'RE COMING!" Brandon Stark shouted excitedly as he climbed down off of a roof of one of the buildings in Winterfell. He was sure footed and careful, and yet everyone always feared he will fall. He never has. The boy set off running through Winterfell at top speed, so fast that he ran into his sister, Asena. He looked up at her wide-eyed. "Asena, they're coming!"
She knew that he meant the King and his family, who were due at Winterfell that day. She ruffled Bran's hair and smiled a fond smile down at him. "Well, then you had better get changed. You can't meet the King looking such a mess."
He ran off then to go change his clothes, leaving her alone in the middle of Winterfell. She herself wore a simple gray dress trimmed with fur, and a small direwolf sewn into the fabric on her breast. Her hair was let down loose over her shoulders, a deep brown colour that mirrored her siblings'. If not for her eyes, she would have looked a perfect daughter of Lord Eddard Stark.
Her eyes were a striking violet colour. Entirely unnatural, especially for a Stark. Her father had had no excuse for it, other than that it must have been an odd birth defect, a strange occurrence but nothing more. This was not true, of course, but he could not possibly speak the truth. Not when the result would surely be her death.
Asena had known since she was a girl of five that no one could know who she truly was. No one could know that her name was not Asena Stark, that the brown of her hair was due not to genetics, but to a strong dye. That she was Visenya of House Targaryen, last of her line and rightful queen of the seven kingdoms.
Not that she had ever wanted to be queen. All she had ever wanted was her family back. Her mother, Rhaella. Her wonderful brother, Rhaegar. Viserys, and the little brother or sister she never met. She was Visenya Targaryen, and she only wished that everything could go back to the way it was.
And the man who ruined her life was coming to Winterfell that day.
Robert Baratheon, the man that killed her brother and stole her father's throne. Coming to her home, and bringing along Jaime Lannister, the man who drove a sword through her father's back. And she would be expected to be civil for the duration of their stay, smiling and saying her carefully practiced pretty words.
Before she realized it, her feet began to carry her toward the one person she could ever find true comfort in: Jon Snow, Ned Stark's bastard. The boy who was supposed to grow up as her brother, but never quite did. Not like the other Stark boys, who were undoubtedly her brothers. Not like the girls, who were undeniably her sisters.
Jon, like her, was an outsider in his own home. Most did not know who she was, but she did, and that was enough to make her feel different. All of the lies made it worse. Dyeing her hair, calling herself a false name, lying about her age (she'd been kept hidden inside Winterfell for years until Robb grew old enough for them to be called twins), and pretending that her blood did not boil with the fire of a dragon.
Her feet carried her to where she knew Jon would be, getting his hair cut and his face shaved along with Robb and Ned Stark's ward, Theon Greyjoy. She walked down several flights of winding stairs to where she the boys had always gone for grooming, but before she could reach the bottom, she rounded a corner and ran into a clean shaven and bare-chested Jon Snow.
She swiftly averted her eyes from his well-sculpted torso and looked up at his eyes. The grey orbs, so dark they were almost black, gazed down at her. "Jon," she muttered, "I was just coming to find you."
She detested this feeling. This fluttering in her stomach, this thing that made her confidence disappear and her words stick in her throat. She had never felt this way around anyone else.
His eyes softened and he nodded, taking her arm to lead her back up the stairs. He slipped the balled up shirt in his free hand over his head as they walked, hiding his toned body from her view. Thank the gods. They walked to her bedchambers, where they knew they would be safe from prying ears, and Jon shut the door behind them.
"The king is coming," were his first words. He knew before she had said a single word what was bothering her.
"How can I look the man who murdered my brother in the eyes? How am I to pretend that he is not the man that ruined my life?"
"You look at father every day," he said, pointing out the obvious. Ned Stark had aided in Robert's Rebellion, after all.
"Father is different." She waved her hand dismissively. "He did not wield the blade that ended the lives of my family. He only aided Robert's cause because he is Robert's friend, and because my father took his father and brother's lives. And because of Lyanna. By honour, he was bound to fight. And more than that, he saved my life." A quick shake of her head, and the Targaryen anger rose. "But Robert, he himself started the war. He himself killed my brother."
"How," she started, shaking her head again, "how can I do this, Jon?"
"Vis," he said, his voice strong and comforting, "you are the strongest person I have ever met. If anyone can stare Robert Baratheon and the Lannisters down and never waver, it is you."
If ever there was someone who could stay her worries and calm her nerves, it was Jon Snow. "It will only be a few minutes."
"And I will be with you every second." Without thinking, he took her hand in his, and it stopped her heart beating. Her eyes flew up to meet his and saw the gray orbs were blown wide, as if he had suddenly realized what he had done. He tried pulling his hand away, but she tightened her loose grip on it, her eyes never leaving his. They stayed this way, in palpable, tense silence, staring into one another's eyes, until finally he spoke.
"You have a streak," he murmured, eyes moving from hers to her hair.
"What?"
"Here." He brought the fingers of his free hand up to thread through her hair and tug out a few silver-blonde strands. "You have a streak."
"I hadn't noticed. Must have missed it last time. Good timing, on my part."
He either ignored or missed her jest, instead focusing on those few strands. "I wish I could see it all like this. How it is meant to be."
"One day, mayhaps," she told him, and it was barely above a whisper. At some point they had gotten close, so close, and she could feel his breath fanning against her cheek, swiftly stealing hers away as it did.
"My lady," a voice called from outside, accompanied by a soft rap on the door, "the king is nearly here."
"Yes, thank you," she replied, and dropped both her voice and Jon's hand as she stepped back to tell him, "you should go. Can't greet the king looking like that."
"You don't like how I look?" He teased, breaking the tension and rousing a smile from her.
"Go, Snow," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "I have a streak to hide."
"Yes, my lady." He gave a mock-bow before disappearing through the door as instructed.
She was left alone and struggling for breath as she reached up to where his fingers touched only moments ago, that pesky silver-blonde streak in her hair.
THE KING BROUGHT THE LARGEST PARTY SHE HAD EVER SEEN. Asena watched from her place between Robb and Sansa as the whole of the Baratheon-Lannister party rode in, dozens upon dozens at a time. The prince and the Hound. Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. Finally, the king himself.
Her nails bit into her palms as she watched him dismount. So hard that it was almost certain there would be blood trickling between her fingers sooner rather than later. She felt Jon's eyes on the back of her head, though, and unclenched her fists. No blood marked her, only deep crescent moons carved into her palms.
In unison, the Stark family and all of their people knelt for Robert Baratheon. Bile rose in her throat as she performed this action. After Robert approached everyone rose to their feet, and as Robert and Ned stared at each other, silence ensued. At least until the king remarked: "you got fat."
Ned bursted into laughter, and everyone else followed. She tried her best to mimic them. Robert took Ned into a tight embrace, saying, "nine years! Why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?"
"Guarding the north for you, Your Grace," Ned answered, "Winterfell is yours."
Robert moved on to Catelyn, then to Robb, and finally his eyes landed on Asena. "You must be Asena," he said, "you're a pretty one."
She tried not to show her anger. "Your Grace is kind to say so," she replied politely. Her mother, Catelyn, would be proud, she knew.
He lingered for a while on her, searching her bright violet eyes and for a second, she was certain that he knew. She held her breath, waiting for the moment that he would finally call their bluff. But his faith in his old friend must have won out, because he moved on to Sansa. A soft sigh of relief passed through her lips.
When Robert was finished, he commanded Ned to take him down to the crypts to see Lyanna, the woman he'd once loved. The woman it was told that Rhaegar kidnapped and raped. Even now, she did not believe it. Could not believe it. The Rhaegar she had known could never have done such a thing. Yet, she knew, that she had never quite known Rhaegar. She had been only five when he died.
As soon as Ned and the king were gone, she retreated and went to find Jon.
THERE WAS A GREAT FEAST FOR THE KING THAT NIGHT. One at which Asena was only present for an hour. Catelyn had not allowed Jon to be present, and therefore the whole affair was quite dull. She had only Robb, and he as the eldest son had responsibilities more important than keeping her company. And with Robb gone, she was forced to endure Theon Greyjoy's endless flirting.
Once the hour was through, Asena rose from her seat and waded through the crowd. Once she reached a door, she slipped out into the dark night.
She made it only a few steps before hearing a voice. "My lady."
She turned to see the owner of the voice, and was met with emerald green eyes and golden hair. The Kingslayer. "Ser," she muttered, nodding politely. Fear and anger stirred within her at the mere sight of him.
"Are you well, my lady?"
Her brows furrowed, not quite understanding the question, or why a man such as he would care. "I am, Ser."
He smiled at her answer, but was silent for a moment as he studied her face. "You look just like your mother," he said as he looked at her, and she knows he does not, cannot, mean Catelyn Stark, who she has never resembled. Her heart stopped in her chest.
"Ser, please, I—"
"Don't worry," he interrupted, "I won't tell." He gave her a nod and started to turn to go back inside. "Goodnight, Princess."
It was not until he was gone that she fully realized what happened. He knows. He knows who I am. Panic began to set in.
The Kingslayer, the man who killed her father, knew of her true identity. He knew that she was Visenya Targaryen. This information could grant him great favour with the king. The man had been frothing at the mouth at the idea of killing Targaryens for over seventeen years. But he had said that he would not speak of it to anyone.
Are you well, my lady?
Why should he care? And why promise not to tell, when the information could grant him so much? Why should he protect the last living member of a family his king detests with such a passion?
To hold it over my head later, mayhaps, she thought. Yes, that must be it. He thought she might be of use one day, and if she was, he could use her true name to his advantage. Surely, that was it.
She retreated to the training yard, where she knew Jon would be. He was indeed there, hacking violently at a sack with his sword. She was almost instantly put at ease at the sight of him. "I think you got him," she said as she approached, arms folded over her chest.
He stopped swinging his sword and turned to face her. "You should be inside. They will wonder where you are."
"Let them," she told him with a shrug of her shoulders. "I spent an hour in there listening to Sansa's gossip, intercepting Arya's food catapults, and fighting off Theon's advances. I've done my time."
"There are better things to do with your time than spend it out in the cold with me."
"Jon Snow, there is nowhere I would rather be than right here with you." Though her words made him smile, he did not meet her eyes, and bowed his head low. "What is it?"
"I have to tell you something." His voice was quiet, grave, and the gravity of what he had to say hit her.
"Let's go inside."
The pair went inside through a door separate from the one she had used to leave, so no one would see them and interrupt. They went to her bedchamber, just as they had that afternoon, and closed the door behind them.
"Jon?" She had never seen him like this before. Guilty, somber, sad. Not with her. "What is it?"
"I'm joining the Night's Watch. I leave tomorrow with Uncle Benjen."
And there it was. "What?"
"I'm leaving," he repeated, and she heard it this time, feeling like she had taken a blow to the stomach. When she did not reply, when she cannot think of a single word to say in response, he said, "you and I both know I will never belong here. A lord's house, his family, is no place for a bastard. I have to go. The Night's Watch is the only place I will ever belong."
"I thought you might belong with me." Her voice was small, quiet, sad, and her eyes had begun to tear. "You know, I will never belong here either, but I always thought it of no consequence, so long as we were together."
"You are Ned Stark's firstborn daughter. No one knows or suspects anything different. Everyone I meet knows that I am a bastard."
"Yes, I am Ned Stark's firstborn daughter," she acknowledged, nodding her head. "So it is then my duty to marry some highborn lord, to have his children and manage his house. To be trapped in this lie I have created for the rest of my life. To be Asena Stark forever." Tears streaked down her cheeks as she approached Jon in her sudden anger, practically screaming at him. "I cannot spend the rest of my life dyeing my hair when my husband is out, answering to this name, pretending that I can be nothing more than some lord's pretty wife. I can't, Jon. That's not me."
"Even if I were to remain here, you would still be married off."
"We always talked about running away," she proposed. "The two of us and Ghost. We could just go."
"They would find us. Drag us back and send me to the Wall and marry you off the same day." He was right, she knew that he was.
"I will never see you again."
"I promise that you will." He reached out and took her hands, pulling her in close.
"Even if I do, you will have taken your vows, and married or not, I will still be Asena Stark." She tilted her head up to meet his dark, lovely eyes. "It is not fair either way. Either way, I can never spend the rest of my days with the man I lo—"
"Don't say it," he interrupted, screwing his eyes shut. "Please don't say it."
"If you are only asking me to keep silent because you are leaving—"
"I am asking because there will never be a good time to say it. There will never be a good time to love me, Visenya."
A shiver ran down her spine when he said her name. "And yet, I do, Jon. I do."
A shaky breath passes through his lips and he leaned down to press his forehead to hers. "I do, too," he whispered. "I do."
THEY WERE TO LEAVE THE NEXT DAY. Asena waited outside as the members of her family that were leaving trickled out into the courtyard. It was her sisters, Sansa and Arya, that walked out first, heading for the wheelhouse. They stopped where Asena stood first, both girls smiling sadly.
Arya ran up to her first, wrapping her arms around her waist and squeezing tight, her face pressed into Asena's stomach. "I'm going to miss you, Asena," Arya said, her voice muffled by Asena's clothes.
"And I will miss you, little sister," Asena replied, squeezing the girl back. When Arya finally stepped back it was Sansa that threw herself at Asena, the redhead clinging to her as she did nobody else. Not for many years, at least. "You will love the capital, Sansa. There is no need to worry."
"I am not worried," Sansa told her, her voice confident. "It is only that. . . I will miss you."
"I will miss you as well, sweet sister."
After one last goodbye to the two girls, they both climbed into the wheelhouse. Not long after, her father walked out into the courtyard and sought her out. His kind eyes found her the moment he walked out into the light, and he was over to her seconds after.
"I, like every other person in the North, wish that you would stay," she told him. "You are needed here."
"I leave the North in good hands," he replied, lacing his hands behind his back.
"Robb is a capable leader," she acknowledged, nodding her head.
"I was not speaking of Robb." Her eyes flew up to meet her father's. "He may be my firstborn son, but it is your hands that I feel comfortable leaving the North in."
"Father, Robb will be lord while you are away."
"And Robb will hear your counsel, if no one else's." She heard what he told her without speaking it aloud. Steer him toward the right path. Ned closed the gap between them, and took her into his arms. A father hugging his daughter goodbye. He spoke quietly, so that no one else could hear. "Just because you are not of my blood, does not mean you are not my daughter. You are. You may have the blood of a dragon, but you have a wolf's heart. Never forget it."
"I won't," she promised, her heart full.
"I love you, Visenya," he whisperd, before stepping back and letting her go.
"I love you, Father. Please, be safe."
"I will. I promise." He gave her one last comforting smile before he made his way over to his horse.
It was Jon that found her last, after he had saddled his horse and said his goodbyes to Robb and the others. He found her waiting for him away from everyone else, desperately fighting back tears. He said nothing in greeting, instead not pausing his stride and wrapping his arms around her when he reached her.
They clutched onto each other and into her ear he told her, "I do, Vis. I always will."
"I do, too," she whispered back. "Always."
When he was gone, she held onto those few words, those last seconds. I do, Vis. I always will. That night, and in the nights that follow, she would look out her window before bed, the one facing north, and murmur, "I do, too, Jon. I do."
A/N: this is the edited/rewritten version of this chapter. Two and three coming soon.