AN: I know, I know. Another story so soon, I must be crazy. I just couldn't stop writing, and this oneshot has been dancing in my head for so long, I decided it was time to let it out.

WARNINGS: This fic contains some possible spoilers about Game of Thrones. If you did not read the books, it's better you don't read this. I'm a huge fan of the R+L=J theory, and seeing as I am an irreparable romantic, the potential of a tragic love story in ASOIAF appeals to me on so many levels. So, if you're just watching the show, don't read this. Go read the books; they are awesome.

I guess I have to say that I am fascinated with the concept of ice and fire in general, and have been ever since I read the Robert Frost poem. My aunt was a big fan of him, and this one just stuck with me. Stephanie Meyer used it in Twilight later, but I believe it can be transferred to so many other great couples out there. So thank you Robert Frost, for being such an awesome poet.

Anyways, here we go. Reviews are extremely appreciated!

DISCLAIMER: The wonderful and complex world of Westeros and Seven Kingdoms belongs to George RR Martin. I do not own anything; in fact, you might say that this epic story owns me in a way.

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire;

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favour fire.

But if I had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

Robert Frost

People say foolish things.

Some said Lady Lyanna Stark was ice and cold, beautiful and untouchable as the blue winter roses.

Some said the Targaryens were the only ones who could tame the dragons.

Rhaegar Targaryen knew they were all mistaken.

It was true that her wild Northern beauty enthralled him the moment he saw her weep at the feast of Harrenhall. He played all those notes for her, letting his melody caress her in a way his fingers only dared to dream of.

It was true that she was as merciless and unyielding as the ice in her pursuit of justice. All of it was true, and he would cherish that part of her until he was no more.

But he was the one to see the fire inside.

When he claimed her lips for the first time, she never surrendered. She took from him more than he was willing to give and her wildness astounded the Dragon. When she bit his lip and drew blood, he pulled back to see her eyes, and it was not ice he saw there; it was fire.

Fire and blood.

When he claimed her body the first time, his hands were cold, yet her skin scorched him as she came closer, invading his space and stealing his heart along with his kiss. The Wolf Maiden incarcerated him, made him fly higher than Aegon ever did mounted on the Balerion the Black Dread, and then pulled him down to her once again, in a swift yet gentle move. She consumed him, spit him out and nursed him back to health, and he surrendered; he was powerless, kneeling before his Queen. He burned for her, seeking her out, and she never denied him, yet never came to him first either.

Fire and blood mixed between them, and he realized that the burn of ice was far more painful than anything he encountered when dealing with heat. It flickered playfully, it ignited slowly, it swallowed him whole; yet he loved it, and he loved her.

He loved her so much, he instigated bloodshed just so he could have her, even for a couple of stolen breaths.

Lyanna's hair was spilled all over his pillow like the waters of Trident, the lights dim in the twilight of the Gods. Her body called to him, and her eyes enchanted him with magic known only to young lovers destined to perish. Her body writhed like winds of Valyria, and as he took her with him to the vertex of pleasure, her cries made him feel alive for the first time in his life. Rhaegar knew that were they ever separated, neither of them would survive.

She did not fight him with ice on the fateful night he told her he must go to War. She fought him with passion and she fought him bravely, unwilling to let tears fall and cloud neither her vision nor her mind. She pushed and screamed and he was afraid to leave her, but he knew the time had come. The moments they've robbed this burning world of were now gone, glimpses of what they would have had if the stars were differently aligned. She wrapped her arms around her, shielding herself from the world, and he enveloped her and loved her like he never did before, for he knew he would never again have her.

That day Rhaegar stood in front of her in his black armour, the rubies glistening almost as beautifully as Lyanna's eyes. She approached him then for the first time ever, his ice queen, his fiery lover, and vowed her delicate hands into his silvery-gold hair.

She said nothing as she captured his eyes in a loving stare and his lips in a desperate kiss.

Rhaegar knew he was marching to his death; it made no matter. The Dragon was hers now; everything that mattered he left with his Wolf-Queen. What was left was a warrior, a shell devoid of feelings, who rode to meet the end of his days.

The destruction tore them apart, and the world collapsed and everything changed. His final thought was of her; a bed of roses and his glowing bride. Her final thoughts went to her brother, in a promise to cherish the only thing that was left of him.

Yet people still say silly things, to put their minds at ease.

They said Lady Lyanna Stark was as cold as ice. How do you call them, those people who never saw the fire that the Dragon Prince did in his amethyst eyes?

You call them fools; fools that will never witness a love stronger than death.

They said only Targaryens could tame the dragons. How do you call a maiden that tamed a Targaryen then?

You call her Lady Lyanna Stark, the one and only love of Dragonstone Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.