The Son of Ice and Fire (Jon Snow SI)

A Jon Snow SI set in an AU where Rhaegar Targaryen won. A man finds himself in the body of Jon Snow, but this is not the story he remembers. Rhaegar is alive, along with his children, and dragons still rule the realm. He is now Maekar Targaryen, the son of Lyanna Stark. His father rules over an unstable realm that is still healing from the rebellion. Ambitious and Hedonistic SI with minor uplift. This is my take on an OP Jon Snow because why not? I've always wanted to write one. There won't be a harem, but the main character will be involved with multiple women, with one being the ultimate pairing. Join to read ahead patreon.com/Illusiveone

Illusiveone · TV
Not enough ratings
31 Chs


Maekar followed Dacey through the dense forest, having left Mormont Keep at the first light of dawn. True to her word, Dacey had decided to take him hunting. 

As they walked, he found himself distracted, his eyes fixed on her firm, round ass that swayed seductively with every step. He found it hard to focus on the hunt ahead.

His imagination was running wild as they walked in silence, his thoughts turning back to their previous encounters in Winterfell. He was broken out of his thoughts by Dacey, who had stopped by a fallen log.

"I saw the moose here last week," she said, her voice low.

They were both armed with bows and arrows. She had mentioned there was a large moose in the area and was eager to bring it down.

"Let's find that moose," he said, taking an arrow out of his quiver.

"But first," she continued, her smile turning mischievous, "I want to play a game."

Maekar raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh, what game?"

"Remember when you jested about playing a game during our final hunt at the Wolfswood? A game where we strip clothing every time we miss a shot?" she asked.

"Oh," Maekar replied, a grin spreading across his face as he caught on to her suggestion. "I like where this is going."

"Before we track the moose, I thought we could shoot some snow grouse. If one of us misses, then we take off a piece of clothing," Dacey explained.

"Strip hunting," Maekar muttered with a laugh. "That sounds like a good name for it."

Dacey nodded in agreement. "Fine. Prepare to lose that cloak," Maekar boasted, spotting a grouse nearby. He took aim and released his arrow, hitting the bird squarely and bringing it down.

"Look at that, one down," he said with a smile.

Dacey smiled back, unfazed. "Well, the game is just beginning," she said.

They began the game. Maekar spotted another grouse, but his arrow flew wide, missing its mark. He groaned in mock frustration as he removed his cloak and tossed it aside.

Dacey laughed, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She nocked an arrow and aimed at another grouse, but her shot went wide as well. With a playful sigh, she removed her fur-lined gloves, letting them fall to the forest floor.

"Guess it's a bit colder now," she teased.

They moved further into the forest. Maekar missed another shot, this time at a grouse that darted out from behind a bush. He grumbled good-naturedly and took off his leather jerkin.

"Have you gotten more muscular, Maekar?" she asked, glancing at him.

"Well, it has been a year," he replied with a smirk.

Dacey's turn came again, and this time her arrow landed well short of its target. She shrugged off her outer cloak, revealing a snug, woolen tunic underneath. Maekar watched her with growing suspicion that she was missing on purpose, but why would he complain?

"I think you might be doing this on purpose," he said, half-joking as he scanned for another grouse.

"Who, me?" Dacey replied with mock innocence, her eyes twinkling. "Just bad luck, I suppose."

The hunt continued, and Maekar finally hit a grouse. But soon after, Dacey missed another shot. With a graceful movement, she pulled off her tunic, revealing a thin undershirt that clung to her form. The sight made Maekar's pulse quicken.

"You're not making this easy on yourself," Maekar quipped.

Dacey just smiled, undeterred. She took aim once more, but this time the arrow glanced off a tree, missing the grouse entirely.

"Oops, missed again." With a dramatic flourish, she slipped off her boots, her bare feet now resting on the cool forest floor.

Maekar took another shot and missed. "Aha, looks like I missed," he said, his eyes roaming her body. He took off his tunic, feeling the cool air against his skin.

Dacey took aim again and missed, her arrow striking a rock instead of the intended target. With a small smile, she pulled off her undershirt, leaving her in just her breeches and a thin shift.

"I must be really out of practice," she said, her voice light and teasing.

He nocked another arrow, his hands steady despite the growing anticipation. He hit his target once more.

Dacey's turn came again, and she deliberately aimed wide. "Something must be wrong with my aim," she said with a seductive smile, unfastening her breeches and sliding them off, leaving her in just her shift.

"Looks like I'm losing this game," she said, her voice sultry.

Maekar couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "You might be, but I'm not complaining."

It was Maekar's turn, but Dacey drew her bow once more, eyes narrowing as she aimed at a distant snow grouse. With a soft exhale, she released the arrow, and it flew wide, missing its mark completely. She lowered her bow and turned to Maekar with a mischievous grin.

"Looks like I missed again."

Standing before him, she was now only in her smallclothes. Without hesitation, she began to untie the last of her garments. Maekar watched, his breath catching as Dacey slipped off her smallclothes, leaving her completely nude.

Dacey stood before him, her body naked and glistening in the morning sunlight. Her skin was flawless, pale and smooth, with just a hint of pink on her cheeks from the cold air. Her breasts were full and round, with perky pink nipples that stood at attention. Her stomach was flat and toned, with a hint of muscle from her daily training. Her hips flared out gently, leading down to a heart-shaped ass that seemed to beg for attention.

She stood there unabashed, a smirk playing on her lips as she looked at him. "Well," she said, breaking the silence, "I guess I've lost the game."

"I think it's safe to say you did," he replied.

"Your turn," she said, her voice low and husky.

"I thought I already won," he said, walking closer to her, his cock hard and throbbing inside his breeches.

He closed the distance between them. "I guess you have earned a reward then," she murmured, taking his hand and leading him deeper into the forest. Her nude form swayed seductively in front of him as she led him deeper into the forest. Every stretch of her long, smooth legs and sensual curves was hypnotic. She led him into a small clearing hidden from view by a thick screen of bushes. Maekar noticed that Dacey had prepared ahead; a blanket was spread out on the ground.

"Looks like you planned ahead," he said.

"I did say I was planning something," she replied. She stepped towards him, pressing her naked body against his. He could feel the heat radiating from her skin and the softness of her breasts against his chest.

 He pulled her closer, their lips crashing together in a passionate kiss.

The hunt will have to wait.




A ship sailed silently by the shores of Bear Island, bearing the grim sigil of the Greyjoys—a kraken.

Small boats descended from the ship, filled with wildlings from beyond the Wall. They began rowing toward the shore, the occupants eager and restless.

On one of the boats, the leader of the wildlings, a fierce man with scars crisscrossing his face, turned to one of the Ironborn. "Why not send us to the mainland? Why here, to Bear Island?" he asked, his voice rough.

The Ironborn man, his expression unreadable, simply replied, "I have my orders."

The wildlings began to talk among themselves, their voices filled with savage excitement. "We can kill all the kneelers on the island and make it our own," one of them said, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust.

As the shore approached, the wildlings jumped off the boats, splashing into the shallow water and celebrating as if they had already won. Their laughter and shouts echoed across the quiet beach, a chilling sound that promised violence and chaos.

The Ironborn turned to the wildling leader. "Remember our deal," he reminded him, his tone dark.

The wildling leader laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Yes, yes, I know what to do," he said.




Maekar lay panting with Dacey on top of him, their bodies entwined in the aftermath of sex. He looked up at her, a playful smile on his lips. "Should we look for that moose now?" he asked, his breath still coming in short gasps.

Dacey, also panting, shook her head. "After some time," she replied, her voice soft and content. She pulled up to him to kiss him again.

Just then, his ears caught a faint sound in the distance. He froze, sitting up abruptly, which alarmed Dacey. "What's wrong?" she asked, concern creeping into her voice.

He silenced her by gently placing a finger on her lips. He strained his ears, trying to catch the sound again. It was the Old Tongue, spoken by the wildlings. He looked toward the direction of the sound and saw two wildling women walking in the direction of the shore.

Dacey followed his gaze and spotted them as well. She immediately began to dress.

"We should go back to the keep and return with reinforcements," he suggested, his voice low but urgent.

They quickly dressed and made their way back to Mormont Keep. Once they arrived, they found Jeor and informed him of what they had seen. Jeor's reaction was immediate. Within minutes, a fighting force was assembled. Maekar, Dacey, her mother Maege, Jorah, along with the Mormont men and the men Maekar had brought with him, prepared to ride out.

Arriving at the shore, they spotted the wildlings disembarking from small boats. He was the first to notice the Ironborn ship anchored nearby. His eyes widened in realization.

"Ironborn," he muttered.

Jeor saw it too and bellowed, "Ironfuckers! They're the ones ferrying those savages here."

"Kill them all," Jeor commanded.

They charged forward on horseback, clashing with the wildlings in a fierce melee. Maekar drove his spear through the chest of one wildling, then pulled it free and swung it around to catch another across the jaw.

Dacey, riding alongside him, used her morning star to bash in a spearwife's head. Maege and Jorah were equally formidable, cutting down wildlings with practiced efficiency. Jeor Mormont, on his horse, swung Longclaw, cleaving through the wildlings with a strength that belied his age. "For Bear Island!" he roared, rallying his men.

Maekar's spear flashed in the sunlight as he thrust it into the stomach of a wildling charging at him with a crude axe. The wildling fell to the ground, blood pooling around him. He spotted a wildling barking orders and spurred his horse forward. He thrust his spear, piercing the wildling's heart.

As the leader fell, the remaining wildlings began to falter. They started to retreat, fleeing towards the sea.

But the Mormonts were relentless. Jorah led a group of men to intercept the fleeing wildlings, cutting them down in the waters.

When the last of the invaders had been dispatched, Maekar stood on the blood-soaked beach. Around him, the Mormont warriors cheered, their victory complete.

Jeor approached him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Well fought, my prince. You did House Stark proud today."

But Maekar did not speak; his mind was racing. It seemed the Ironborn and the wildlings were working together.

"Ironborn," he said, turning to Jeor.

"Aye, Ironborn. This is worse than I thought," Jeor said, staring out at the retreating ship.