A Dragon In Wolf's Clothing ~A Game of Thrones fan fiction~

Epilogue (Part One): A Dream

The cells under the Red Keep were truly dank, Ayrella realised as she hitched up the skirts of her long grey dress, treading carefully to avoid puddles of mud, blood or other forms of excrement. As children, she and Rhaegar used to explore the Keep mercilessly, but down in the cells was the one place they never dared set foot. They'd grown up knowing the reign of terror their ancestors had bestowed onto Westeros, and the rumours their father was resurrecting it, and so they didn't go into the cells, simply because they didn't want to awake the dragon their father could be.

This time, though, Ayrella didn't have time to be scared of their father. There was something that she needed to do desperately, and it didn't matter that she'd never been down there before; her heart was pulling her the way she needed to go. Soon enough, she found him, the man she'd been looking for, hunched over, asleep, chains at his ankles tethering him down to the stone floor. He looked worse for wear, the poor lighting not making his black eye look any better. Nethertheless, he was still direly handsome, with his big nose, strong jaw, dark beard and long hair, tied back into a small bun. He was still wearing his leathers, imprinted at the shoulders with direwolves.

Flutters went through her whole being as she saw him lying there. Brandon Stark. They'd only met once before, but he'd made a lasting impression on her. It was maybe the wine, but Ayrella certainly wasn't going to forget the man that deflowered her, the man who showed her compassion as he did it, kind to her unlike any other. It had only been once, ut she knew for certain that she loved him with her whole being.

Forgetting the filth and her clean dress, Ayrella knelt down next to his figure, placing her hand on his shoulder. He jolted awake, his eyes darting round with slight fright, until they found her, and ultimately softened. Despite the conditions, she saw a small smile flick across his face.

"Brandon Stark, I never thought I'd see you again," Ayrella smiled softly at the sight of the northerner, her heart fluttering ever so slightly.

"Same to you, Princess. You can thank your brother for this. All I want is my sister back," he said harshly, his previous calm demure gone.

"I've thought about that night at the tourney ever since it happened," Ayrella said before thinking properly. Brandon let out a small laugh.

"Gods be good if I ever forget about it. I'll remember it till the day I die, which I'm guessing will be a lot sooner than planned, considering your father,"

"I'm sorry. I asked him to release you, but all he did was call me a traitor," Ayrella smiled gently at him, laying her hand on his.

"Did he hurt you, princess?" He frowned, immediately forgetting his problems at the thought of her being hurt because of him.

"No, but..." Ayrella burst into tears. "Brandon, I'm pregnant,"

Brandon's eyes went wide in shock, before gazing down to her belly. She was wearing a tight dress, and a shawl, but he could still see a roundness to it. She looked ill too, especially in the poor lighting of the black cells, her face skinnier, like she had been throwing up and not eating. She was shaking too. All the signs were there, how could he have not noticed?

Quivering slightly with nerves, he reached his hand out, resting it on her stomach. She wanted to flinch, considering that the only other contact men had made to her was to hurt her, but she eased into his touch, moving her hand to be on top of his. She closed her eyes, savouring the moment, knowing that it would not stay so bittersweet for much longer.

"My father doesn't know, only Rhaegar and Ser Barristan, and they both swore not to tell anyone.  Are you angry with me?" She asked, still crying.

"How could I be angry with you?" he asked with a small laugh.

"But you were meant to marry Catelyn Tully!" she exclaimed, causing him to let out another laugh.

"Fuck Catelyn Tully!" he laughed, using his spare hand to wipe away her tears. "I love you, that's all that matters, and if I'm to die tomorrow I'll die happy knowing that you love me too,"

"I do," she nodded. "I love you very much so, but I don't know how I shall go on if you do..."

"If I die, get out of the Keep," he began, sitting up to be directing across from her, taking hold of both of her hands tightly. "Get out of King's Landing and go North. Get to my brothers, Ned especially will take care of you. Under Winterfell's protection you'll be safe, you and our child,"

"But I am no one to you in their eyes, just some harlot princess that was too drunk to protect herself from getting pregnant," Ayrella shook her head, refusing to accept his plan, knowing that it would not be so simple.

Brandon watched Ayrella carefully, knowing that he would never love anyone more, then lent over to where the hem of her skirt was, and tore off a long shred. The action made her jump, letting out a small squeal as he took her by surprise. Stretching out the cloth, he laced it on top of her hand, still outstretched. Laying his left hand over hers, he wrapped the cloth over their hands, the way a septon would normally.

Realising what he was doing, Ayrella lent over to him, and placed a kiss on his lips gently. He smirked, and kissed her again, his free hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair lovingly, until she eventually pulled away.

"This isn't my custom, but... say the words with me?" Brandon asked cautiously, as if afraid she would now pull away and leave him after his gesture of marrying her. Ayrella nodded with a smile, the first real smile he'd ever seen her wear.

"Father, Warrior, Smith, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger," they spoke together, looking into each others eyes almost excitedly, as if this wasn't a gesture to merely provide Ayrella with protection and to fulfil Brandon's dying wish. In this moment, it was like they would live forever in their love, like they weren't two star-crossed, damned souls, but rather, the two young people in love, marrying for love the way that they should. "I am hers, she is mine, from this day to my last day,"

"Ayrella Stark Targaryen," Brandon spoke with a sad smile. "Make sure that's the name our child has, make sure that when you get home, my brother looks after our child like his own and raises them right,"

Lyanna woke with a slight jolt, letting out a small gasp as she realised the dream. She felt the tracks of tears down her face, and took in a deep, shaking breath as she lay in her bed, next to Willas, her husband laid close to her, his hand on her swollen stomach. Willas, already awake, his mind racing, noticed Lyanna was awake, and moved closer to her, leaning over and kissing her neck.

"A bad dream, my love?" he asked gently, knowing from their time in High Garden that she was prone to nightmares.

"No," she said quietly, shaking her head ever so slightly as she moved into his embrace closer, so that her face was buried into the crook of his neck, his hands moving to the small of her back. "A good dream,"

"What about?" he dared to ask, knowing that she liked to talk through her dreams with him.

But this time she didn't answer. She simply smiled and fell back to sleep in his arms, exhausted from a long day's work of being Queen in the North, closing her eyes and hoping to go back into the sweetest dream she'd ever had.

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Word Count:1331

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