The Dragon and the Wolf

Summary: He, a man bound by duty and destiny. She, a woman of free spirit with iron will. Theirs, a love of fiery passion and sweet tenderness. But their world is too cruel for such a thing to survive, and the realm that has long been on the brink of chaos and war teeters ever closer to an explosion and destruction. A love story that turns to tragedy, moments lost in time, secrets, and lies. This is the tale of the Dragon and the Wolf, the song of Ice and Fire. RxL

Disclaimer: Do not own A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones.

The release of the trailer today prompted me to post this at last. I'm a little nervous because this is the first time venturing into this fandom, and I'm very out of my comfort zone, but I wanted to use this opportunity to get back into writing again, and also be able to write this before season 8 influences my ideas/storyline too much (this may end up being a bit AU). I also want to note that this story will be written more as a series of interconnected oneshots rather than a single chronological story, as I wanted to test out this style. Also, would much appreciate if you would read the first author's note at the end of the chapter. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

"It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others."

-Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility

Prologue

It was an uncharacteristically cold day when her mother died. The skies had been grey, and a chill had settled over Winterfell. Though winter had not come for several years, it felt like winter that day in the stronghold of the North.

"My Lady…" a maid said quietly, hesitantly. The words felt like ice going through her heart. Lady. She was considered the lady of the house now. At only 8 years of age, Lyanna Stark felt woefully unprepared for the task.

"Has a raven been sent to my father?" she asked in her best formal tone. The maid nodded.

"Your brother has seen to it, my lady."

Lyanna gave the maid a nod of thanks, and stepped closer to the former sickbed, now deathbed. Lyarra Stark was still and severe in death, so unlike how she had been in life. Lyanna remembered her mother as having always been kind, compassionate, yet strong-willed. She had always had a warm heart and ready smile to give love and comfort.

She would never feel that comfort again.

The lump in the young girl's throat felt harder than ever, and she felt the tears roll down her cheeks as she collapsed by her mother's cooling body, sobbing.

Her brother Brandon found her like that, about a quarter of an hour later. He said nothing, just held her tightly while she cried the last of her tears. Her second brother, Eddard, came by after that. He also had no words, but placed a comforting hand on her back while he held back his own grief. The three siblings stayed that way a long time, trying to sort out the feelings they felt were much too adult for their age, and when morning came, the world felt a lot colder and darker than it had been for years, now that their mother's smile was gone from it.

Lord Rickard Stark, the Warden of the North and the Lord of Winterfell, arrived back home early the next morning, his trade talks at Whiteharbor postponed with his wife's sudden death. The Funeral was held soon afterwards. Even the cold and chilly weather of the North would not preserve Lady Lyarra Stark's body for long, after all.

Lyanna stood solemn and tall next to her brothers after the ceremony, staring at the tomb that now held her mother's body. Only days ago, she had been alive and warm (despite the toll her illness had taken on her), had patted Lyanna on the head, called her 'my little wild wolf', and kissed her forehead goodnight. Her hands clenched, and she heard her younger brother Benjen Stark protest at the pressure. She sucked in a deep breath, trying hard not to resent Benjen for this. It wasn't his fault, her father had said. Her mother had already been weak when pregnant with him, and his birth had made her health decline even faster… but Lyanna mustn't blame her brother. He was innocent, and her mother had wanted to bring him into the world more than anything. She now had to be a good big sister for him, be the mother he barely remembered, and be there for him. After all, hadn't her mother also entreated her to do the same?

She understood all that logically. But her emotions would not let her truly accept it.

It would regrettably take a year before she could live up to her father's words. Until then, the world seemed to the young girl so very cold and suddenly unforgiving. Even the sun seemed to have dimmed, and the winds harsher. Thigns that used to bring her joy alternatively made her angry or brought her to the brink of tears. And when there was nothing to trigger her grief, all she felt was a numbing chill deep within her.

Was this what it was like, she wondered, when the Other's from the North first attacked Westeros? She had heard legends of these fearsome creatures from the Far North… beings made of ice, who brought only cold and death. Winter had not yet come to Westeros, and yet her heart felt frozen. No matter how many times she rode across the wilderness of the North, how many times she snuck into the weapon stores and furiously tried to teach herself how to use a sword, how many times she sat by the fire blinking back tears, nothing distracted her from the pain of loss.

Her dreams also started becoming filled with ice. Ever since that horrible day, she would often dream of herself in a freezing blizzard, struggling to find shelter and warmth. All around her was nothing but frost covered ruins, dead plant life, and desolate fields of ice that stretched limitlessly around her. It was so bleak, so lonely, so… empty. There was nothing… nothing but death.

Day after day, she dreamt of this hopeless scene. But one night, it suddenly changed. As she trudged through the snows in her dream, she suddenly felt blazing heat behind her. At the same time, an unfamiliar roar shattered the previous emptiness, deep, resonating across the land. A shadow passed overhead, and when she turned, she saw a scaled and winged creature unlike any she'd seen before. For a moment, its eyes met hers, fire blazing behind the creature's irises. She screamed as the creature opened its mouth and released a column of flame that tore across the plains of ice, while ashes mixed with snow in its wake. She tried to run, but the fire was faster, and before she knew it, she was engulfed in the flames.

Yet… it did not hurt her. Her eyes widened, and she paused, hesitantly holding her arms out to the fire. It rushed over her body, but instead of burning her like it did everything else, it instead caressed her, coaxing warmth back into her frozen limbs, gently enveloping her and shielding her from the ice. The flames changed from frightening to beautiful, and as she looked through them, she thought she could feel the blazing heat of the summer sun and hear the laughter of children running through fields of wheat and corn. A myriad of colours swirled in the flames, and they seemed to pulse, almost like a heartbeat, as if it were alive. For a long moment, she felt strangely at peace, engulfed in this twisting whirlwind of ice and fire.

The fire quickly passed over her and faded, leaving a now scorched and ash covered field. Yet… the cold had also disappeared with it. Blinking, she glanced around, shielding her eyes away from the sunlight that finally peeked through the previously grey sky. In the ashes she saw new life sprout, small buds of green struggling through the dust left behind by the flames and unfurling its leaves, even as the ice finally melted, turning to water that nourished the new life. A soft breeze passed her, and she thought she could hear her mother's voice, calling to her gently. Turning, she saw her mother's figure approach her, materializing in the sunlight, smiling at her.

"My darling little wolf… take heart and be brave… everything will be okay in the end."

The specter of her mother pressed a kiss to her forehead before fading in the sun. But it's warmth and love stayed with her, while the sun grew warmer and warmer. Hope rose in her heart, so much she thought it would burst as she looked around her and saw the flourishing greenery. Spring had returned.

Lyanna Stark smiled as she turned over in her sleep, one last tear sliding down her cheeks. When she awoke the next day, she would barely remember the dream. But she remembered the feeling of hopefulness it gave her, remembered her mother's voice reminding her to be strong. She would find her brother Benjen later that day and offer to teach him how to ride better, and in time they would become impossibly close. She would soon smile and laugh again without bitterness, and her father would sigh with relief while he recovered from his own loss. Her brother Brandon would again tease her to the point of her chasing him about the castle, with Ned running after them both as he tried to maintain some semblance of order. All would seem to return to normal.

But Lyanna knew deep in her heart that something had changed. She would feel it every time she sat by the fire, staring at the flames, every time a cold chill brushed her skin A new inner resolve and strength filled her. No matter how terrible things were, she was sure that there would be a way out. Even if the world itself was destroyed, new life would form and rebuild. The world will always find a way to continue on.

~(line break)~

It was said that in his youth, the Silver Prince often visited the ruins of Summerhall, where he had been born amidst the tragedy there, amidst the smoke from the fire and salt from the tears of those suffering… there he would lie under the stars, and then compose songs of such beauty and sadness as to bring one to tears…

The skies were clear that night. He stared up unblinkingly up at the velvety darkness, the stars reflected in his own dark, indigo eyes.

"Back again, my dear?"

He barely shifted at the voice, having expected it. He turned his head slowly and sat up from where he'd been lying on the ground, brushing a stray leaf from his silvery-gold locks.

"My Lady," he greeted the wizened old woman who approached. She was no more than three-feet tall, with pale skin and even paler hair. Her red eyes might have put some people off, but he was used to her odd appearance by now.

"I am no lady, dear," the woman said softly. He only gave her a quick polite smile, indicating that he did not intend to change his form of address. She did not push the issue either. It had become routine for them, just as it was routine that he stood and held out his arm to support her as she took him on a walk around the ruins.

"Have you new songs for me to hear?" she asked as she led the way to where he had left his harp. He did not question how she knew the location, and only nodded. She smiled at him, and gestured at the instrument, before settling on a fallen beam. "Then sing for me, young prince. After all, I rarely hear another voice in this lonely place."

He obliged, playing the instrument with skill that spoke both of raw talent and hours upon hours of practice. His voice was soft in the night, but still seemed to resonate in the halls. She did not interrupt as he sang song after song, only listened with a smile. He sang of a variety of things… old songs of Valyria, newer songs composed by the court musicians, and then, shyly, some of his own works. It was during one of these last songs that he faltered. He paused, frowning.

The old woman gave a low chuckle. "Are you still stuck on the words?"

"They don't seem quite right," he admitted.

"No, because it is not to me you should sing that to. But your lady-love. One day," she stood and touched his arm with a small, claw-like hand, chuckling at the awkward blush that dusted his cheeks. "Why have you returned?"

"To see you, my lady. You spoke often of your loneliness, and if I can help in any way, well…"

She laughed again. "I am surprised your guards let you come alone."

He shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'm not completely alone… Ser Barristan and Ser Lewyn accompanied me, and they are not far."

She hummed slightly, gazing at him with a sad look. He did not seem perturbed by it.

"You have questions for me?" she asked eventually. He nodded, hesitating for a moment before speaking in a rush.

"When I met you last time… You spoke of the destruction of the kingdom… a Long Night that will plunge the world into darkness… I… in my dreams I saw it… Please, I beg of you to tell me if there is any way to prevent it!"

She shook her head. "You cannot stop winter from coming, my dear."

He shook his head in frustration. "The Kingdom is more divided than ever. My father… the King… he will only make it worse. We are not ready… please, my lady, there must be a way to save the realm."

She looked at him with almost a beady look. "Do you love this land, young prince? Do you love all the people here, rich and poor, highborn and lowborn?"

"Yes, of course. That is why I want to help…"

"Would you really be strong enough to make the hard decisions though, I wonder. Difficult decisions and sacrifices for the greater good."

He looked confused, and she stepped closer, her face looking older than ever. "The Wheel has rolled on and on for years, even before you ancestors first came to Westeros. And it keeps rolling, crushing those beneath it, and those who fall from it. Winter is not the only thing that will tear through this land… the people will tear each other apart first, before death comes to take them all."

He sucked in a sharp breath, but she pressed on. "It is inevitable, but necessary. Sometimes, things need to be completely broken down in order to be built anew. The poison cannot be purged without destroying the system that still holds and nurtures it. The realm must be torn apart before the wheel can be broken."

A look of anguish passed over his face, and he fell onto the remains of an old wall, his head in his hands. She took pity on him and leaned forward, putting a hand on his head and gently smoothing back his locks of silver-gold hair as a grandmother might have.

"Fear not, young prince. Not all hope will be lost. As I have once told your grandfather, the Prince who was promised will come, and he will bring light to this world again. You will have a key role to play in helping this world move forward, though it may not be what you expect. But in the end, your blood will triumph and usher in a new age, and your descendants shall live on in a golden era."

She smiled sadly as he looked up at her, his indigo eyes cautiously hopeful. "A Golden Era? So the Long Night will end?"

"Yes… yes, it will, a brighter future is on the horizon. But you, my dear, will leave this world before the hands of time can rob you of your strength and youth."

"Oh…" he fell silent at that, looking down at his hands, hands that had not yet lost its childish softness, that were still not that of a man. She was impressed that he did not tremble, and saw his shock melt quickly into steady resolve. When he looked back up at her, there was no fear in his expression, and his eyes burned with the fire aptly put into his House Words.

"Whatever it takes to save the Kingdom, I will do. I am not afraid."

"I know," she murmured. "Remember, the Dragon has three heads, and all three will come together to end the Long Night. Only after that can the people know spring again."

He nodded. "Thank you, my lady. You have given me hope."

She shook her head. "Few would claim hope after hearing such a thing."

Before he could say more, she began to hum. It was an old song, one she had sung to herself so much that she had forgotten its origin.

"Come, my child. Sleep now under the stars, and let not the thoughts of winter stop your repose."

He complied, gently laying his head on her lap and closing his eyes, allowing her to softly lull him to sleep with her song. She felt him relax slowly, his solemn expression melting away into one of innocence in sleep, making him look peaceful and more his true age. She stroked his head gently, tenderly, even after she felt his breath become slow and steady and knew that he would not wake till the morning. Only then could she bring herself to say more.

"I'm so sorry my dear child… you would have been a great King, one of the greatest the realm has ever seen. Aegon V did succeed in birthing his dragon, and by their sacrifice you were born bearing all the best qualities of your House. But the realm is not ready for one such as you, and you, along with so many others, will need to be sacrificed for this world to find peace…"

She was gone when morning broke. He woke to find himself tucked within his cloak, his head cushioned with a small pile of leaves. The ruins of Summerhall looked lonelier than ever in the dawn light, and a sad expression crossed his face as he looked around. If he closed his eyes, he felt as if he could smell smoke and hear the screams and cries of all those that had perished here.

He touched his harp, which was slightly damp with dew. The music master would not be happy with him for potentially damaging the instrument. Still, he could not help but gently run his fingers along the strings, a new melody coming to mind. He hummed along, a new song taking form in his mind.

The winds of winter will blow, but it will not chase away the dream of spring."

~(line break)~

In 280AC, Lord Walter Whent announced a grand Tourney at Harrenhal, with the most lavish of prizes. The Tourney attracted some of the greatest knights and lords of the Kingdom. The great houses brought not only their renowned knights and sons, but also their wives and daughters to join in the festivities.

And it was there that the fateful meeting of Ice and Fire took place.

Author's Note:

Hello there for anyone who reads the author's notes! Thank you for reading my story so far! For anyone interested, I will probably post a note at the end of my chapters to explain some of my thought processes. Regarding the story itself: I've always been intrigued by the characters of Rhaegar and Lyanna, and what really happened between them, and everyone else all those years ago before and during the rebellion. They're such important figures in the story, and yet only in the last season do we see both of them together. After that, I just have so many questions and ideas to fill the gaps of what happened, and what drove their decisions, that I began to write them down. Eventually, for fun I decided to start putting it into a series of little drabbles that started turning longer and longer.

As mentioned before, this will not exactly be written as a whole chronological story. There will be some flashbacks because I wanted to explore some of the past events never touched on (e.g. Rhaegar and Arthur Dayne's friendship, how he felt about his lost siblings). A lot of it has probably become a little bit AU considering the number of times I've re-edited it to make it fit the story better, or been struck by a random plot bunny and ran with it, so fair warning. I may also not clear on all the details since I haven't read the books, and this was more of a writing exercise about some theories I had about the show right after season 7 ended. I decided to post this now just because a) it's a good exercise to help get me back into writing, and b) if by some miracle any of my random ideas come close to being true, I want there to be a record of it, and c) wanted to post this before season 8 is released and starts influencing what I already have in mind.

TL:DR All of this is just a long and rambly way of saying that there probably will be probably both intentional and unintentional discrepancies with GRRM's story, as well as a lot of speculation, and I am aware of it. Especially since all of this may soon be negated and be put in the realms of AU. Despite this, I hope the story itself will still be interesting for you!

Notes for the chapter:

So, this oneshot dives a lot into the realms of speculation. Lyanna is 8-9 here, while Rhaegar is 12ish. They aren't actually concurrent events, but I wanted to explore a little of their pasts (and float the future into both of their minds). Here, I start with Lyanna's mother's death. Lyarra Stark died when her children were still young, and I think that kickstarted Lyanna maturing earlier. Benjen really looked to her as a mother figure as well as an older sister figure, and I think it would be partly because for most of his life, she was the one taking care of him. On the other hand, Brandon would become quite protective of Lyanna, because he saw how torn up she was when they lost their mother, and vowed to protect all of his siblings to prevent them from going through this sort of pain again. She has a dream here that foreshadows the coming of the long night, but also how it may be resolved. Since prophetic or symbolic dreams seem to be meaningful in ASOIF, I thought I'd throw on in here.

I also explored a little of Rhaegar when he was younger and his thoughts about the coming Long Night. We know that Rhaegar was quite invested in the prophecy of the Prince who was Promised, and the Long Night. I wanted to find an explanation for why it meant so much to him. The old woman here is the Ghost of Highheart, who was at Summerhall during the tragedy, and said to be a woods witch that was able to see the future. She was the one who predicted that the PWWP would come from Aerys and Rhaella's line, after all. Rhaegar was said to often visit Summerhall, and compose sad songs afterwards. I was hit by the idea that he might have met the woods witch here, who told him about the Long Night first. Who wouldn't be super melancholy and want to write sad music after hearing about the potential destruction of your Kingdom? Also, Barristan Selmy said that he didn't think it was in Rhaegar to be happy, and that a sense of doom hung a shadow over him all his days. He attributed it to Rhaegar being born in tragedy, and I think that is a part of it. But I thought it would be interesting if he had known that he would die young, and would potentially cause the deaths of those he loves, and that also contributed to his sadness, or at least be a part of it. I imagine he also often dreamt of the future, or at least the bleak bits, which added to the stress. He obviously had no clue exactly when or how he would die, and no idea how the future might play out at this point, but it laid the groundwork for the beginning of his secretive nature.

If you have made it to the bottom of this long note, I thank you for taking the time to read my rambly thoughts, as well as the random things my muse came up with. I hope you all have a lovely day!