THE DRAGON QUEEN [ Jon Snow ]

I.

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.