Ice and Fire

This Fic is my attempt to honor the ship of Dany/Jon because I adore them so. In this universe, there are a bunch of things different from the novels. Firstly, while Dany was able to conquer more cities, she did not take a lover in Daario or a husband in Hizdahr. Basically, she has been lonely for quite some time now. Also, in this fic, Catelyn survived the Red Wedding and fled to White Harbor with the rest of the Tullys and Starks (excluding Arya and Bran). As of now, Jon has just been betrayed and Dany is ruling in Meereen

I really hope you guys enjoy this fic as it is my first one ever and I am very much interested in becoming a full time writer once I finish my education. May I just warn you that 1. I am, as I said, a novice in writing or in anything creative. And 2. English is neither my first nor second language so if there are any problems with the text, please let me know.

Enjoy and Review!

Prologue I: The Dreams of a Dying Man

I'm going to die. Jon thought as he lay in his ice cell, half-frozen and half-dead. Jon thought he knew what cold was. For him, the cold was something to defeat, something to overcome. In his mind the cold could be defeated. But how can he defeat something so powerful and so deadly when blood poured profusely from a hole in the pit of his stomach.

His men had betrayed him, stabbed him and locked him away in a frozen cell to die. I'm going to die. The words were on Jon's mind constantly and they almost left his lips a number of times, but Jon knew that the second he said the words would be the second that he would die. He did not know how long he had been in the cell, was it a day? Was it a fortnight? For all he knew, he had been here for weeks. Jon had no idea. His wounds caused him to fall in and out of sleep countless times.

While awake, Jon was surrounded by cold and darkness. He could hear the guards outside his cell, laughing and cheering as they tortured the helpless prisoners. These men were once his brothers, his family, and now they were his captors. Bowen Marsh and his men had betrayed him and now Jon could feel himself falling closer and closer to death inside the tiny frozen cell.

Jon prayed to the gods that he may sleep. In his sleep, Jon found comfort in a better life that he found in his dreams. He dreamt of sparring with Robb in the great courtyard of Winterfell with his father and Lady Catelyn watching. He dreamt of his little sisters, Arya and Sansa, the way they used to fight and find comfort in him. He dreamt of little Bran and Rickon, the way they used to idolized and imitate him whenever he trained with a sword. But most of all he dreamt of Ygritte, his lost love. He dreamt of her fiery red hair and beautiful smile. He dreamt of her making love to him in the cave that they so loved. He dreamt of them as lovers, as man and wife, as parents to a bunch of beautiful children with grey eyes and hair kissed by fire. But then as soon as he woke up, he would remember her awful death and suddenly all the dreams and hopes went away. You know nothing, Jon snow and now you will die. Jon thought one last time before he closed his eyes. Jon knew this would be the end, Jon knew that the second he fell asleep, he would never open his eyes again. But before that could happen he heard the gate of his cell open.

The red lady stood over him. She radiated heat and kept a face with absolutely no expression. Just as Jon was about to open his mouth, Melisandre placed two of her long fingers on the dying man's lips. "Be silent Lord Snow, your false brothers know not that I am here." Melisandre placed her hand on Jon's wounds and whispered a prayer in foreign words. She looked up to him and faced him in the eyes, "Valar Dohaeris." She whispered finally and kissed Jon on the lips. With that, Jon fell and lost all control of his half-dead body. I'm going to die. But he didn't, instead, Jon dreamt.

He stood in a dark, empty space, blackness surrounding him. It was cold, very cold. Almost as cold as the ice cell Jon slept in. Jon looked around to see a tall handsome man with long silver-blonde hair standing across him, "Son" he whispered to Jon as he walked closer and closer. "I am no son of yours." Jon said with conviction. "My beloved son." Jon started walking toward the man. But with each step he took, the man took a step back. "Who are you?" Jon screamed to the silver-haired man. Jon started running toward the man and he outstretched his hand to grab him. Jon finally caught up to the silver haired man and held him by his tunic. "Who are you?" He asked again. And with that the silver-haired man disappeared and the figure of a dark-haired woman replaced him.

The woman had her back to Jon. "Promise me Ned." She said in an almost-whisper. "Promise you what?" Jon asked. The lady turned around and revealed herself to him. She was a young beautiful woman with a long face, raven hair and hauntingly beautiful wide, grey eyes .And in her arms; she carried a black-haired babe. Jon stepped back in surprise, he was sure he had never seen the beautiful lady before. But something about her was so familiar to Jon. The woman reminded him of Arya, but something about her made him think of his father, Ned. "Lyanna?" Jon asked wide-eyed. The woman faced Jon and her haunting grey eyes met his. She placed her hand on Jon's strong jaw. "Promise me Ned." Just as Jon was about to touch her back, she and her babe faded away into darkness.

Jon stood alone, surrounded by darkness. He was left to ponder on his thoughts about the silver-haired man and the beautiful woman with the raven-haired babe. Suddenly a great fire appeared in front of him and behind it a great, three-headed dragon. Jon fell back in fear as the great dragon approached him. The dragon roared as it pinned Jon to the ground. With one great puff, the dragon breathed fire on the cowering man as he closed his eyes. Jon expected to feel pain, to feel tortured. Hell, to feel anything, but the dragon flame had not affected him in any way. When Jon opened his eyes, he realized his clothing was burned, but his skin was unscathed. He looked around to see that the three-headed dragon was gone, and in its place was the most beautiful woman Jon had ever seen.

The woman had deep purple eyes and the same silver-blonde hair as the man from earlier. She wore a beautiful, fine, silk dress that exposed one of her ample breasts. Behind her an image of a three-headed dragon appeared, engraved in the darkness by fire. The woman looked at Jon with obvious curiosity. She walked closer to Jon, each step causing him to feel butterflies in his stomach. Jon held out his hand and screamed for her to stop but she did not listen to him. She stopped the second she reached Jon. "Who are you?" Jon asked in curiosity. The woman smiled and ran her fingers through Jon's curly, black hair. Jon could not help but smile when he saw the twinkle in the beautiful woman's eyes. "My name is Jon, my lady. May I ask for your name?" The woman answered him with a kiss and suddenly Jon felt as warm and as comfortable in a way he never felt before. Her lips were warm and soft. And when she pulled away from him, Jon felt as if the kiss ended too soon. "Daenerys." The most beautiful woman in the world said. "My name is Daenerys."

Jon jolted as he woke from the best dream he had ever had. When he looked around, he saw the red lady hovering over him, like a maester examining a sick patient. "You've returned Lord Snow." She said, almost as if she was relieved. Jon got up to his knees and grabbed Melisandre by the arm. "What happened to me? Who…. Who were those people?" The lady simply smiled. "I showed you your past Lord Snow, and your future." The lady moved the tunic covering Jon's stomach only to reveal no hole, scar or blood. "And, I saved your life."

Jon looked on with wide-eyes as the lady got up to her feet and extended her hand. "Why?" Jon asked her. "All men must serve, Lord Snow, and you are not yet finished serving." "Come, there is more to be done." Jon grabbed her hand and walked with her outside of the cell. Only then did Jon notice that he no longer felt any pain anymore. In fact, he could not even feel the slightest bit of cold.