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Chapter Text

     “You will return my nephew to me!” Lord Stark could not control his rage.

     “I will not.” The king said too calm for the usual screechy man.

     “He is my nephew and you have no right to him.”

     “I have every right.  I am the king. You and your Rebellion cost me the future of my House, there are to be consequences.” Aerys glared down on the Northern lord.

     "It was not my rebellion. Your son stole my sister and raped her, Robert only fought to have his betrothed returned to him."

     "My son would NEVER perpetrate such a crime!"

     "Jon is..."

     "That is not his name!"

     "You already have a grandson, an heir by that name, you cannot have two." Lord Stark said quieter.

     "I am King, I can have anything I want. I want your nephew here, where I can watch him and make sure he causes me no more trouble than he already has."

     "I would take him North, raise him as the bastard he is, he would never trouble your House as I would never tell him."

     "You will never tell him because you will never see him.  He will be the payment to keep your rebellious head and your father's seat and for your House to keep Winterfell. You tell any man and I will kill the last piece of your sister you have." Aerys glared at this man who was not even half the man his lord-father had been before him.  A child who had played with the powers of the realm and failed miserably. "Now. Bend your knee and swear your fealty, and no more Stark blood need be spilled by a Targaryen." Ned did not want to, not bend to this insane man who had murdered his brother and father, thwarted the rebellion somehow and now held his nephew hostage.  His last piece of Lyanna.

     "My word should be enough why do you even want the lad?"

     "To keep The North loyal. Because as he is the last piece of your sister, he is also the last piece of my son."

     "You have Princess Rhaenys and Crowned Prince Aegon the Sixth. He is no last piece."

     "They are pieces true, but he is the last thing Rhaegar gave to this realm other than his life.  He belongs to me.  He will repay what you have done to my House.  Be loyal Lord Stark or your nephew will suffer for every little annoyance you are to me." Aerys grinned maliciously. "Now get out! Of my Throne room and my city!"

     Ned Stark was met at the door by another Targaryen and very different one.  Queen Rhaella, she was carrying her infant daughter, the Princess Daenerys if Ned remembered correctly. Wrapped in the red and black swaddling of House Targaryen.  Ned wondered what were the colours of Jon's swaddling, he was only months elder than the little princess.

     "Lord Stark."

    "My queen." He bent his head because he did respect his queen, she was his father's friend and she was kind with a gentle heart. She endured a great deal being married to the Mad King, even the sweet child in her arms was tainted with pain, for everyone knew the princess was conceived in the pain of rape.    

     "Aerys is right, Jon... That is what you call him?" Her voice so soft it was almost undecernible.

     "Yes, your grace."

     "He is the last piece of Rhaegar to us, to me.  The last touch my son left on this world. I will love him, as Rhaegar loved your sister and he did love her Lord Stark.  That little babe was born of a great love. They were happy until they were hunted.  He is my last piece of Rhaegar, I know Elia's son looks a Targaryen but Jon has Rhaegar's good soul behind his eyes."

     "I haven't seen him."

    "I will limit Aerys as much as I can and I will take care of him as much as Aerys will allow.  His life will not be in danger so long as I live.  Or Aerys will find a blade in my hand impaling his heart.  He is my grandson and I will protect him." Her words were empty if Aerys would not allow her to care  for Jon, but he could tell she meant them.

     "I will have to accept this as all I can hope for, as I cannot tempt Aerys rage and endanger the babe."

     "Have faith Lord Stark."

     "This is not over my queen, I will not give up, I will continue to return to petition for his release."

     "I would expect nothing else from Rickard's son." She smiled and let him go.

     "Has Lord Stark left?"

     "His party left the city at dawn your grace."

     "Good, now I need every servant in this castle and every one of Varys' little birds killed, so no one takes news of the boy to the world. Kill anyone who could have seen or heard he exists."

     "Everyone?"

     "I will have no more traitors in my Keep than I must keep."

Chapter Text

     Daenerys sat watching her mother embroidering, she should have been embroidering herself just as her good-sister and niece were.  Daenerys absently wondered if there were other highborn ladies as bored as she was in the Seven Kingdoms. She supposed not as bored as she was, they probably had the freedom to actually leave their castles, see people other than her family, guards and servants - that would be lovely.

     She gazed down at the embroidery in her lap.  Daenerys glanced around the room to the women sitting contentedly sewing.  Her mother had a smile as she embroidered a dragon with three heads onto a … Oh, Daenerys was not sure where it was going.  Her mother had a true skill, the Dragon seem to be about to leap off the cloth, but Daenerys was a tad tired of three-headed Dragons, and Suns and Spears, other ladies came and embroidered their own emblems onto cloth as their husbands spoke to her father with frustration and their sons hunted and did sports with her brother and nephew, and tried wooing her niece and herself.  She wished they wouldn’t, she had no interest in boys and it annoyed her father. He would rant every night for hours how she was a Dragon and a Dragon would be her husband, sometimes he would speak like it was to be Viserys her brother others, as if it were to be her nephew Aegon. Once, when she had left her chambers for a drink in the night she had heard him screaming at her mother that Daenerys was going to be Aegon’s bride and he would kill any man or boy who tried to touch her, and stop his plans for strong Dragons.  She supposed she should have been happy her father did not speak with such power about her marrying Viserys, but as much as Aegon was a perfect prince, he was also a perfect prick.

     Daenerys watched as her good-sister Elia, Princess of Dorne finished off a quite magnificent looking golden Lion, for House Lannister, it was apparently for her own good-sister, Cersei Lannister.  After the debacle with Lady Cersei’s brother breaking his vows as a Kingsguard and trying to kill Daenerys’ father, the king had forced Lord Tywin to marry his daughter, Sir Jaime’s twin, to Prince Oberyn of Dorne.  Rhaenys said her uncle had been none too pleased to be tied to the Lioness, but over the decade and a half of their marriage she had accepted it and although there was no great enduring love, they were content enough. Daenerys though that might be the most she could hope for in marriage too, to be content enough, eventually.

     Rhaenys was looking excitedly out at every young man who looked her way, she was beyond the age to be betrothed and wed, being six years elder than Daenerys, she was getting to the point due simply to her age she would be seen as sour goods, it was king Aerys’ fault, he would not allow any of his young Dragon’s to leave, Viserys was over eight years Daenerys’ senior and their father had refused to let him take a wife.  Viserys was accepting of this as far as the realm saw, but Daenerys knew better, for years he had been speaking of how he wished their father would just marry them so they could start the next chapter.  For Viserys, Dragonstone was the next chapter.

     Daenerys was not as settled with the idea of marrying Viserys as he seemed to be. She knew it was House Targaryen’s way, but he was her brother.  If that was not cause enough, their ages were quite divergent.  He wasn’t terrible cruel, after all, all boys were cruel. Her father was cruel to her mother, Viserys was cruel to her, Aegon was cruel to Rhaenys and her.  She heard Rhaegar hadn’t been cruel.  Still one out of four, he must have been the exception, because all boys were cruel.

     Daenerys looked down at her lap again.  Why was she learning to sew? She was a princess, did princesses sew?  She would understand if they taught her to make clothes, not to just decorate them.  Did common girls spend absolute hours learning to embroider?  Rhaenys was happy to do it, she told Daenerys it was a quiet way to spend the long hours they were stuck in here.  From some words Viserys had said there were other ways that Rhaenys spent her long hours.  ‘Keeping up the traditions.’ Daenerys wasn’t sure what he truly meant but was sure she did not want details.  She guessed, due to some mornings when Rhaenys would drink her ‘special tonic’, or moon tea as everyone else called it.  It was understandable, Rhaenys was approaching her first score nameday.  Daenerys stood next to her as she flirted, wondering why Elia would teach her daughter to do that when everyone knew the king would find some problem with it.  She flatly refused the flowers shoved at her by the same young men and boys shoving them at Rhaenys.  She supposed they weren’t shoving them at her, but it felt like they were because Daenerys was only fourteen and she did not like any boy she had meet. Her niece said if she had met more, she might have liked one.  Daenerys doubted it.

     “Daenerys, darling, you aren’t sewing.” Her mother’s gentle voice came to her.

     “It hurts.” Daenerys replied.

     “Oh, is your hand sore?” Her mother rose to come sit next to her and take her hand, to rub it, though the sensation was lovely, the pain did not subside.

     “No, it is fine.” Her mother continued to hold her hand, she could see it - it was not Daenerys’ hand that hurt, it was something far deeper.  She wished she could give the child hope and enthusiasm for her future, but she had nothing to give. Within herself she only had concern for her daughter’s future, and what her brother would decide to inflict on her.

     “Daenerys, you need to improve your skills, so one day you can embroider a wedding cloak for your daughter as I and your mother do for you and Rhaenys.” Elia tried to encourage, though she knew neither girl had hope of marriage happening.

     “How is my cloak going mother?” Rhaenys asked, with some bite to her tone. “One would think it had the mountains and valleys of the painted table by now.” Her mother had been embroidering it so long, it had so many layers of thread, it could be a textured story.

     “The King is finding you the perfect husband, daughter.” Elia did not believe that, but if she spoke against Aerys, her children and herself would be in danger, and her brothers still had expectations of her, as Rhaegar’s widow.

     Daenerys extracted her hand, she had seen Rhaenys’ ire and she knew that excuse would not work too many more times on the woman. “Come Rhaenys, I feel we have sat for too long; we need to get our hearts pumping blood back into our legs.”  Rhaenys rose quickly putting her perfect embroidery down. Daenerys sighed to see it, why couldn’t she do that?

     “Thank you.” Rhaenys said as she left the room with Daenerys’ arm in hers.

     “What are sisters for?”  She did see Rhaenys like a big sister.

     “Maybe one day we truly will be, when you wed Aegon and we two are closer than ever.”

     “Yes, won’t that be lovely.” Daenerys did not wish to marry Aegon, but as choices, or lack of them went, he was fair.

     “Believe me, it will.” Rhaenys spoke in a tone and inflection Daenerys did not understand.

     “I guess so.” Daenerys felt unsure now due to Rhaenys’ tone.

     “I know it will be.” Rhaenys smiled at her in a fashion some of the lord’s sons had.

     “Rhaenys…” Daenerys needed to make sure she knew what her niece was talking about.

     “Don’t you look bored.” Viserys’ voice cut across her inquiry.

     “We are!” Rhaenys said glumly.

     “Well, I was just about to send Aegon here on a quest.”

     “A quest?” Daenerys raised a silver eyebrow. “We aren’t allowed outside the Keep.” Unless escorted by so many guards, it was not worth the trip.  She felt like a princess locked in a tower.

     “It won’t be outside the Keep.”

    “Surely there is nothing exciting inside the Keep.” Aegon agreed with Daenerys.  They had grown up here, never got to leave the walls, except on short excursions and never on lengthy stays outside.  Even when his grandfather took them as a House to see other Houses, he was erratic in his timing and paths, to keep they safe.  Aegon was sixteen and he still had to ride in the wheelhouse! Even simple rides included thirteen guards, a prince could not be adventurous with a square of thirteen guards riding around him.

     “Not in the parts you have wandered around, but there are other parts to the Red Keep.” Viserys spoke quietly, so to make it sound ominous.

     “What parts?” Aegon stood back. 

     Viserys rolled his eyes, arrogant little prick couldn’t play along to alleviate his own boredom?  Daenerys better be his bride not Aegon’s because she would stab herself in a week. Probably through the eye or ear.

     “Aegon, obviously Viserys is trying something.” Rhaenys gently scolded her brother.

     “I am a Dragon Prince; I have no time for games.” Aegon said as he crossed his arms, though inside he was quite excited for the adventure.  He had to look a mature prince on the outside though.

     “If you are scared.” Viserys shrugged. The girls both looked to Aegon to see his response. Was he scared?

     “I am not scared! You haven’t even outlined the endeavour.” Aegon snapped.

     “I have a dare for you.”

     “A dare?” Daenerys was not sure about a dare.

     “Yes, I dare the three of you to go where none of you have gone before.”

     “We have gone everywhere in the Keep.” Aegon groaned, they had been stuck there the entirety of their lives.

     “Not everywhere. You haven’t been…” Viserys stopped speaking and pointed at the ground.

     “Where?” Rhaenys asked looking at the cobblestones. Viserys again pointed down. Rhaenys shook her head to indicate he made no sense. They repeated the exchange and Viserys cursed at her.

     “Down!”

     “What do you mean down?” Aegon was not sure he liked that direction.

     “Below the Keep. I dare you to go down into the depths of the Keep to where the monsters dwell, in the dark dank depths.”  They knew there were no monsters, but all three shivered with excitement, because they had never been allowed into the dungeons or even deeper, into the catacombs.

     “The catacombs.” Aegon breathed with awe.

     “Deeper, to see the Black Cells, if your courage is strong.” Viserys said in a whisper.  The eyes of his audience widened in anticipation.  No one was allowed down there, they say the worse criminals to walk the realm were secreted away in the Black Cells, left to waste away forgotten by the men in the light. “Scared?”

     “No.” Daenerys the youngest and physically littlest of them said with gusto.  She started walkig toward the doors that would lead them down. Then she stopped to turn around.  The others, even Viserys were staring at her glued to their spots.  She suddenly looked unsure. “Which way are the doors down?”

     Viserys laughed at her, his brave little sister, well, more extraordinarily bored sister.  “This way.” He pointed perpendicular to her marched in direction. “Now you all understand we can take no guards with us, for they would obstruct our journey.”  Viserys was more than sure they would not need them, no one had been sent to the Black Cells since the Usurpers War and Lord Baratheon, the Stag who thought he would be the King of Everything , instead of just the forest, had been hauled up and publicly executed.  There were no monsters below the Keep, but it would get his younger Dragons excited and set their hearts to racing, liven up their boring and monotonous existences.

     They trailed behind Viserys, Daenerys and Rhaenys then Aegon taking up the rear because he was their rear guard.  They walked calmly as if nothing was happening until they passed through the restricted door.  The air was old and musty, and their feet kicked up dust when they got to the catacombs.  Each level down got their hearts thudding louder in their chests, every sound had three heads snapping to check for danger.

     The Catacombs were full of Targaryen artefacts: banners, and furniture, boxes and crates of things, and skulls, Dragon skulls, of past days of glory of their House. Viserys let them pour over the bones, they would never get closer than this. His father still had Skulls hanging in the throne room, but none of the tiny ones or the giant ones, just medium sized skulls, just large enough to scare the lords and visitors but not his father.

     “Where is Belarion’s skull?” Daenerys asked. His sister was more in love with Dragons than boys, of course she would wish to see the mightiest skull.

     “On the last level before the Black Cells.”  Viserys knew Daenerys would love to see it, Belarion was gigantic, so large she could hold a small tea party in his maw, so long as no one wished to move around.  Daenerys almost ran to the stairs down so excited by the opportunity to see the greatest of all their family’s Dragons. “Shall we catch up with her?”  Rhaenys was getting bored, Viserys could tell and Aegon was tettering, but Aegon soaked up Daenerys’ enthusiasm and quicken his pace to follow.  Viserys guessed Aegon just wanted to follow Daenerys as close as possible, to try for an errant touch.  He had noticed Aegon’s growing interest in his sister.  He was not worried so long as daenerys was pure when they married, if they married. If they didn’t, Viserys did not care about her maidenhood.  He stopped.

     “What?” Rhaenys asked as she got to his shoulder.

     “Just thinking about something.” He started walking again. He changed his mind, even if Daenerys was to marry Aegon instead, the little Crowned Prince could wait to consume his wife, it wasn’t like he was waiting to consume other women.

     Daenerys was so overwhelmed by the sight of Belarion the Dread Black’s skull she just stopped, moving, breathing, speaking, even blinking.  Viserys smiled, he knew she would react like this.  The awe spread to their other companions, as all the younger Targaryens went forward to stand as close to the massive bone as they could.

     “You can touch it, he won’t break.” Viserys whispered in Daenerys’ ear as he watched her hand twitch to touch the ancient skull.

     Belarion had teeth taller than a man and the horns upon his head reached to the vaulted ceiling.  The room was expansive, but the skull made it look like a closet.  Even just bone, Belarion was terrifying, there was an aura around this skull that had not been around the smaller ones, as if he would blink and his skin would return. The bones felt warm to Daenerys’ fingers, they should not, maybe it was just the heat of the catacombs. This was amazing. Why was she learning to sew when she could be down here, with him?

     “It is getting late, we should either stop here or move on.” Viserys thought he had achieved his goal though. The younger Dragons were no longer bored.

     “We should finish it off.” Rhaenys said, always one to finish the whole before going back to enjoy the special parts.

     “But, Belarion.” Daenerys said with sadness.

     “He has sat he for centuries, he isn’t going anywhere.” Rhaenys counselled.  Daenerys nodded, Rhaenys was older and had more experience with life, she was probably right.

     “I will bring you back everyday if you like.” Aegon whispered in Daenerys’ ear, pressing his body against her back.  She did not like the feel of his closeness, or the excitement he was obviously feeling.  Still it was a kind offer and he could not be blamed for his reactions, everything seemed to excite boys his age.

     “Thank you, Aegon, I might hold you to that.” Daenerys replied. Aegon grinned with his joy, there were many things he could do with a pretty girl in the dark.

     Viserys lead them through to the next level, it was dark, like light refused to go here, but the air was not stale as expected.  The Torches were spaced far apart but they were still lit to give a dim view of the ground.  Daenerys wondered if Viserys had set this up to be spooky and frightening, to make the atmosphere eerie for their adventure.  They wandered two levels of Black Cells and found no one as expected and were on the last and final level almost ready to return to the surface as they saw a glow ahead at the end of the dungeon.

     “What is that?” Aegon whispered. Viserys shrugged.

     “Oh, well done Viserys.” Rhaenys said with amusement.

     Viserys had no idea what she spoke of this wasn’t him, as they turned the corner, they all worked that out, because Viserys had no power to set that up.  Sitting at the end of the corridor before a cell, the last Black Cell, was Sir Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, oiling his sword. Sitting on a chair with a table before him, this did not look like a short stay.

     “Never place your sword into its scabbard without cleaning it first, no matter how long you have been fighting or how tired you are. I do not care if you are about to pick up a baby off the battlefield, never put your sword away tarnished.  Plant it in the ground or lay it down, but never taint your scabbard. You have to respect your sword.” Sir Hightower stared into the cell as if waiting for a response. “Good.” He must have gotten it.

     “I know Arthur would have said all this to you before, but sword care is very important.  You must treat her like she is your beloved wife.” The Knight again looked into the cell. “Do not give me that look, I am not some old dottery man.”

Chapter Text

     It was curious, why would the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard be guarding a cell, a Black Cell, and why was he talking with such comfort to whatever prisoner occupied the cell? The Leader of the King’s own elite guards, guarding a prisoner and not another guard in sight.

     One afternoon of daring and distraction turned into another as the young Dragons excused themselves as soon as they could from their commitments to meet for another descent.  Even the perfectly bored Viserys was roped into help them get through to the lower levels, they did not stop at the symbols of their family’s reign or at the great skulls, they raced as safely as they could to the Black Cells, the very last cell.

     Lord Commander Hightower did not sit at the table today, the table was shoved out to the side and Sir Oswell Whent stood on one side of the cell entrance with a knife in hand, he tossed it and it flew to the other side skewering an apple that came out of the cell to the wall.

     “What did I say? I told you I could do it.”

     “I did not say you couldn’t, just said it would be easier if you gave me a knife to cut my apple myself.” A youthful male voice responded. The Dragons secreted behind the corner of the corridor all looked around at each other. The prisoner sounded the same age as them, they expected an old man, or at least the age of the Kingsguards.

     “Did you hear that?” Aegon whispered to Rhaenys.

     A hand came out from between the bars, the ragged end of a black shirt with a torn cuff covered the arm behind it. The kingsguards went to the wall to pull the apple free then walked it back to place it in the boy’s hand.

     Viserys quickly sat back.  He was not a child to be fascinated by a strange boy in a cell. Yes, it was peculiar, but his father was not called the Mad King for nothing.  He could have seen the boys black hair thought of Robert Baratheon and imprisoned him, that would not be unthinkable for his father.  It would explain why the kingsguards were his guards, but really he could be here for any number of insane reasons.  It was too exhausting to try to discern his father’s mind, so he just let it go and pandered to him, keep him friendly until he died and Viserys got the throne.  Viserys looked at Aegon as the other boy looked down at the top of Daenerys’ head.  Aegon may be an obstacle, he would need decide what he wanted to do about him.

     Aegon gazed across the distance to the cell and his eyes narrowed.  Sir Oswell Whent was one of the kingsguards that were comrades of his father’s, Crowned Prince Rhaegar.  Oswell Whent had little to no time for Aegon, his friend’s son.  He only guarded him when rostered and would never accept the swapping of duties if the swap meant he was to watch Aegon out of sequence.  Aegon had always felt Sir Whent did not like him.  Yet, this man who couldn’t even be neutral with him, always wearing a grimace, was smiling and jesting with a prisoner.

     “Now do not fill up on sweets and ruin your dinner.” Oswell joked with the Black Cell Boy.

     “Alright.” The voice came out of the cell. “What is dinner?”

     “Some slosh the cook made.”  Oswell looked into the bowl before him and grimaced, it looked disgusting.

     “Oh, Slosh. My favourite.” There came a reply that mocked excitement.

     “Fill up on your apple, this looks like … swine swill.” Oswell was tempted to tip it, it didn’t even smell good, but he knew the lad would not get anything to replace it if he did.

     “I will take your advice good sir.” The boy spoke from his darkness.  The royal children watched as the kingsguard slid the bowl into the cell. The same hand appeared out of the darkness to drag the bowl back and then it disappeared.

     All was quiet in the Black Cells for near on half an hour, Viserys had wandered off and Rhaenys and Aegon were getting fidgety, Aegon wander back to the stairs to the upper level, tired of the non-event.  Rhaenys had sat back and was playing with the hem of her skirt.  Daenerys however glimpsed around the corner every few moments to catch a glimpse of the owner of the voice.  Rhaenys looked around the corner when they heard the scrape of the bowl on the floor, The hand pushing it out for the knight to take.  Rhaenys watched for maybe another half an hour and got bored again, wandering off to find Aegon and possibly Viserys.  Daenerys however was not distracted she keep up her vigil to see this prisoner, and just as she heard the light sneaking steps of her Aegon behind her, she saw him, the prisoner sounded like a boy because he was a boy. All her companions had made their way back to her by the time he stood at his bars.

     He was about the age of Daenerys and Aegon, probably closer to Daenerys’ age and his hair was black and curled, his face was handsome, would probably have been more so if he was smiling.  Though living in a Black Cell was most likely the reason he was not smiling. His clothes looked old and ragged as if he had worn them for a long time, and they did not fit well.  Daenerys figured if they were ragged, he had probably grown too big for them and did not get them replaced often. She supposed that depended on how long he had been imprisoned.

     Daenerys felt herself gasp and Viserys turned to stare at her and placed his finger to his lips to tell her to be silent.  She shrank back, unsure why she had had an audible reaction.  She edged her head around the corner lucky as the youngest and shortest she was at the bottom of the face line, so no one was below her and could really note her reaction.  She was not of an age to be interested in boys, but she found she had to acknowledge that for annoying, uninteresting boys, that one was handsome.  Would grow to be a very handsome man she would guess. Some of her fascination was she had never seen a boy with such dark hair, mostly she saw Aegon and Viserys, with their silver hair and even the occasional other boys had golden to brown hair, none had black.  She had only seen full grown men with black hair, and they did not have lovely curls like this boy did.

      Viserys indicated they should get back before they were missed.  He regretted the dare yesterday, and going back today as once far enough away Daenerys did not stop talking, it was not entirely like her.  She was asking a thousand questions about how it could be the boy was there and why and who he was.  Viserys had to pull her up before they returned to the ground level of the Keep.

      “It is all very curious, but we are not allowed down there and if you keep talking, we will never have the opportunity to go back down and find out anything.”  Daenerys quietened immediately and said not another word about the Black Cell Boy, but she still thought her questions at a thousand a second.

Chapter Text

     Daenerys was filled with curiosity about this mysterious boy locked down deep in the darkness. He could not be imprisoned for a crime, wasn’t he too young to have committed a heinous crime?  She had a terrible curiosity normally and this mystery right in her own home was too intriguing to ignore.   She asked Viserys if they would go down the next day and he said she could do as she wished but what was the use, it was a political thing most likely.  Rhaenys and Aegon however were happy to go down and find out more.  The third day saw Sir Arthur Dayne watching the lad, Arthur sat next to the bars and talked low and quiet to the boy, so the spies could hear nothing.

     Day four, brought Sir Hightower back to watch and day five Sir Whent again.  They discovered the pattern of Hightower, Whent and Dayne.  Only the three, and they seemed to guard the lad with some affection. Eventually even his desire to be with Daenerys wore thin for Aegon to sneak down to discover the story of some mystery boy.   He was not interested in a rival for the princess’ thoughts, so he flatly refused one day about two weeks after they had first seen this mystery.

     “I am no longer wasting my time.” He said arrogantly. “It is a prisoner and we are royalty.”

     “Okay.” Daenerys shrugged and turn around and walked away toward the door down.  Aegon rushed after her.

     “You aren’t thinking to go down there alone?”

     “No, Rhaenys is coming.” He looked to his sister, she knew he wanted to marry Daenerys, and she was not stopping Daenerys from pursuing this fantasy of a boy.  Rhaenys just shrugged as well.

     Rhaenys was willing to hang on for another week but even her interest petered out because they could not go near the cell and no one spoke about the boy above ground,  and  she wanted out of the Red Keep not to dig further into it.

     So, it was Princess Daenerys found herself facing the possibility of sneaking down to try and discern this mystery all alone.  It had proven not to be dangerous so far but still it was deep and dark; and she would be alone.  Was some boy in the depths of her home worth it?

     So, for one day Daenerys also stopped if she must go alone.  No boy was that interesting and he would always be there, he was a prisoner after all.

     “See brother, patience has seen Daenerys bored with the boy.  You can still marry her.” Rhaenys spoke quietly to her brother Aegon.  He had no patience.  It could see him in trouble.  If their grandfather found out Aegon hadn’t patiently waited to marry Daenerys and had gone sowing his seed elsewhere, he would refuse to allow Aegon to have his daughter as his wife.  Aerys was always saying, ‘his Aegon would make Daenerys a very happy wife.’  Rhaella, their grandmother, did not look as certain, but she softly let it be.  Though Rhaenys could say, her grandfather was right, Aegon was getting proficient and by the time they wed, Daenerys could find him making her very happy indeed.

     “I thought she would stop going when I did.”

     “Oh Brother, you were not the reason our aunt went down there, that is why I continued, as boring as it was, I kept her thinking she could as long as she wanted.  Now she doesn’t want to.”

     The princess stared down at the embroidery project in her lap, she looked around the room at the other diligently sewing women. They chatted about things she had no interest in: fashion, hair, men and marriage. Elia and Rhaenys were gossiping about ladies in the realm, and who was laying in whose bed; even hinting at what they did while they were there. It was all a tad over Daenerys’ ‘want to know’ basket, she did not even want to think about the subject of husbands and marriage, or men in general. She felt she was too young for that discussion. Rhaenys was however much beyond being ready to marry, and not just because she was six and a half years older than her Aunt Daenerys, but because she was ready to leave the Red Keep and see something else.

     Daenerys was about learning about the world and that did include a mystery boy, but it was not about husbands or marriage.  It was about adventure. She had not been brave enough to go alone, but she figured as she stared at the mess of her needlework she needed to do something in her life not dictated by others.  She stood and stretched her arms, then walked to the window, she gazed out into the courtyard below, her eyes drawn to the path to the lower levels.

     “I think I will go for a walk in the garden.” She said knowing the ladies were too busy gossiping to offer to accompany her.  She calmly walked to the door down and then remained at a stately pace until she got to the last level of Black Cells. Then she rushed up to the corner and peered around to see, Sir Hightower sitting at his chair.

     “What are you doing?” The boy’s voice asked. Daenerys did not always see the boy on her trips, but she got to hear him every time.  She liked his voice, it had a strange accent.  Did that mean he came from somewhere else?

     “Writing.” Sir Hightower stated.

     “Amazing! What are you writing?” The boy sounded enthusiastic and high energy.

     “I am updating the White Book.”

     “What fantastic adventures have you and the other guards had out there in the sun?” He sounded so happy, how could he? Daenerys lived in the sun and wasn’t that happy or excited about anything. Except coming down into the dark to listen to a boy she knew nothing about.

     “Nothing fantastic.”

     “Me, neither. Write that down. I too have had no fantastic adventures of late.” The boy’s voice was light as if that might happen and Sir Hightower laughed. Daenerys had never heard the Lord Commander laugh before, he was as serious as his station was important.

     “I must step away boy.”

     “Of course.” Came the answer.  Daenerys watched Sir Hightower exit out another door she hadn’t been aware was there, until he opened it and disappeared.  She crept closer to get a better look at this prisoner before the knight returned.  She kept in the shadows and raised her cloak over her unmistakable silver hair. She thought she was doing really well, not making any sound, staying out of the light.

     “You are in a very dangerous place. There are rapists and murderers down here. No one comes here of their free will, why are you sneaking around?” He had a lovely voice. She knew he was wrong there were no murderers or rapists down here.  Her father had sent many of them off to The Wall, only a week before Viserys dared them to descend. In fact he was the only one down here.

     “Which are you? A rapist or a murderer?” He was surprised to hear a girl reply.

     “I don’t know what I am. It must be pretty awful though considering how long I have been here.”

     “How long have you been here?” She crept closer so she could see him. He looked up at her with dark intelligent eyes. There was very little in the cell with him. so he sat on the floor.

     “What is a highborn lady doing down here in the bowels of hell?” His clothes were simple but in good condition and although dirty, not as much as they should be, he must have had them changed recently from the rags he had worn. The light of the torches flickered to show he had handsome features and a mop of dark curls. Just as she had thought he did, and closer, they were more splendid.

     “You didn’t answer my question.” She was so curious, she had a thousand questions for him to answer.

     “You haven’t answered any of mine.” He didn’t seem to recognise her. Her silver hair may have been covered by her cloak but surely the colour of her eyes was a clue for him. Everyone in King’s Landing knew her by sight, how could he not know who she was, still it was probably best he didn’t.

     “Well what makes you think I am a highborn lady?” She asked.

     “Your speech; the fact you are clean; your clothes and cloak are of a fine quality.” He took a deep breath. “You smell like honey and roses.” She blushed for some reason, it wasn’t her first compliment but for some strange reason this prisoner boy‘s words made her feel all warm inside.

     “You still didn’t say how long you have been here.”

     “You still haven’t answered any of my questions.” He paused momentarily, “Maybe you aren’t a lady. Surely a lady would know her courtesies and wouldn’t be so rude.” There was a hint of humour in his voice. She knew he was trying to provoke her by his words and she almost bit but calmed herself.

     “Well you said it was dangerous down here, so I am just being safe.” She smiled at the reason she came up with.

     “Then be safe my lady and run away from this horrid place. I would if I could.” Suddenly his voice was cold and ominous.  The joviality disappeared and he spoke low.

     “How long have you been here?” This time her voice was soft.

     He took a deep breath and sighed just as deeply. “As long as I can remember.” He looked around his cell and in a heartbreakingly sad tone continued, “I took my first steps in this cell. I don’t remember ever being anywhere else.” Daenerys almost wept. “If you are trying to get caught then you’re about to succeed, that is Sir Hightower returning.” She jumped up and ran off before the knight found her and took her to her father.

     She heard the boy laugh as she disappeared and then a deep voice asked, “What are you laughing at lad?” She never heard his reply.

     Rhaenys reprimanded Daenerys when she confided in her about her conversation with the boy. What if he’d grabbed her and hurt her. Daenerys didn’t believe he would do that. He didn’t seem evil or bad; he seemed very nice, but she didn’t say that to her elder niece, Rhaenys would just call her a silly naïve girl. Rhaenys must have relayed Daenerys’ adventure to Aegon as he came to her room blustering about how dangerous it was for her to do as she had, and how she was never to do it again.  He even threatened to tell the adults what happened and what the boy had done.

     “He did nothing Aegon.”

     “That is not what I will tell Grandfather.  I will tell him he dared to touch you and we know what grandfather will say and do. Send him to The Wall.” Aegon threatened.

     “It would be a lie and he would defend himself because he didn’t do that.”

     “Who will grandfather believe a prisoner or his heir?” Aegon’s arrogance was unattractive and Daenerys was disgusted by him at that point and told him to get out of her rooms or she would tell her father that Aegon had touched her.

     “He would ask me and I would say I hadn’t.”

     “Who will he believe, you or his beloved crying daughter?”

     “You are not crying.” So, on cue Daenerys started to weep and sob, it was a talent she had and she would use it on Aegon if he threatened the only excitement she got in her life.

     “Get out!” She screamed as if he had violated her.  After she closed the door, she wiped her face and started making plans for visiting the Black Cell Boy tomorrow. Aegon shouldn’t play with Dragons if he didn’t like flames.

Chapter Text

     “Have you developed a new hobby daughter?” Her father spoke out of nowhere over breakfast. She was worried Aegon had still snitched on her, how was she going to explain herself?

     “No, Father.” She answered as she stared at her fruit.

     “You have just been noted as disappearing a lot of late and disappearing for some hours.” Her father did not sound angry or agitated, just interested.

     Weird.

     “Really?” She acted surprised as if she too had not known she was doing it.

     “Yes.”

     “Strange.” She shook her head at her mango.

     “I find it so as well.” She could feel his eyes boring into her, so she just kept her head down and ate.

     “I will take note of what I do today, and let you know at breakfast tomorrow.”

     “No need I can have someone do that for me.”

     Shit! How could she ditch this spy her father was going to set on her?

    “Oh, Aerys. Let her tell you tomorrow and if you don’t like her records, then set someone tomorrow.” Her mother interceded. “I mean we don’t want you under protected because Daenerys loses herself in the flowers.”

     “Good point. I am King I must be protected first.”

     “Exactly.” Rhaella turned to her daughter. “Now we want a lovely story about today, my sweet. Okay?”

     “Yes, Mother.” Daenerys saw her mother’s rescue and smiled in thank you. She supposed her mother knew all about imposing fathers.

     For some reason Rhaenys would not leave her side today, she would think it was her father ignoring her mother’s advice, but it was more likely to be Aegon employing his sister to watch Daenerys. She sighed, she had been finding Aegon’s attention more exhausting of late, she wasn’t sure why. Aegon was aggravating Daenerys more every day. She gave up on her plan to go visit the Black Cell Boy and resigned herself to wandering the garden trying to sketch. Being a princess was so boring!

     “Rhaenys.”

     “Yes, Daenerys?” Her niece looped her arm in Daenerys’.

     “Do you find being a princess boring?”

     “Being stuck in the Keep yes, but there are still things we can amuse ourselves with.” Rhaenys smiled warmly at her. Daenerys thought it a shame Rhaenys was stuck in this Keep, she was quite beautiful and being cloistered here did not allow her the attention and courting from lords she deserved.

     “For example?”

     “Well, there is embroidery; sketching as we are doing now; and then we can paint and learn a musical instrument. Learn to sing and dance.”

     “Dancing requires a partner.” Daenerys noted the flaw, slightly peevishly. She was upset with Rhaenys for curtailing her plans to see the Black Cell Boy, why should she have to miss seeing him for a day because Rhaenys would not leave her alone?

     “Well it is not like there aren’t boys to practise with. We both have brothers.”

     “Viserys won’t practise with me, he finds it tedious.”

     “You could learn with Aegon.” Rhaenys put her brother forward. Her mother, Elia had been encouraging her children to endear Daenerys to the idea of her being Aegon’s bride, because Aerys was unstable, but if Daenerys wanted to be Aegon’s bride then Aerys would change his mind eventually for her wishes, because he was quite attached to his little girl at times. Other times, she was as ignored and punished as much as everyone else.

     “Stealing your partner. I couldn’t.” And did not want to. What had changed? She had preferred Aegon as an idea over Viserys but as they aged, Viserys had little to demand of his sister, but Aegon’s had increased. And she was unnerved by his pressed interest, especially when sometimes he pressed more of himself. She knew he had little control of his … desires, but it made her feel uncomfortable. When she had spoken to her mother, she had assured Daenerys that as they aged men grew to control their arousal, but it was not something to be judgemental of Aegon about, apparently it would like asking a Dragon not to fly. Her mother said her discomfort had a lot to do with her own age and later she may appreciate the obvious arousal of a boy, arousing of itself for her. Daenerys was sure she wouldn’t. Boys were just sweaty and yucky.

     So, Daenerys dragged Rhaenys around the gardens gathering flowers for her mother, she was determined to pick her the prettiest bouquet. With her mother’s favourite flowers in her favourite colours, she had even spoken to the kitchen to have a special little cake made. Viserys was sourcing something else to make it extra special.

     “Hail, Boy.” Aerys grinned from his throne.

     “Oh, I have a daft feeling I am going to hate today.” Jon said quietly to Sir Whent.

     “Why is that?” Aerys asked as he had not quite heard the boy clearly.

     Jon sighed tired. “How may I help you, your grace? Tell a humble servant how I may be of serve to my king.” Jon knew it did not matter how much reverence he gave King Aerys, the man would either be polite or cruel. The man was insane.

     “We are going to have a nice little chat.”

     “Are we? Fantastic!” He doubted it, but it had happened on occasion.

     “Do you know what today is?”

     Fuck! This never ends well. Jon took a fortifying breath. “No, your grace. What is today?”

     “It is my queen’s nameday.”

     Jon found the day relieving, at least it wasn’t one of the usual days Aerys asked that question about and then tortured Jon with. “How lovely.”

     “It is. My grandchildren however have forgotten.”

     “That is a shame.” Jon said sympathetically. The queen had always been kind to him, and he thought if she were his grandmother, he would do something nice for her.

     “They should remember.”

     “They really should.” Because they should. Queen Rhaella was generous and kind and he got the feeling she fielded a lot of interference for her husband.

     “I mean it is alright if you do not know today is my queen’s nameday, but they are her grandchildren.”

     “You are correct.” It was far safer to just agree with him. “Was there a service I could do for you about this?”

     “What could you do for the queen from your cell?” Aerys asked as if Jon had made a stupid suggestion.

     “I just thought… Did you just need someone to vent at, you could have come to my pretty cell and not had me hauled through your Keep?”

     “Go down there?” Aerys looked at Jon with disgust.

     “If you told me I would have cleaned it up, put up extra torches, made it all nice for my king to visit.” Jon’s voice was light and friendly, it was all he could do to keep Aerys calm, he hated when Aerys was agitated, he hurt when Aerys was agitated.

     “You are a good lad, but no you can come into the Light sometimes, I don’t want you getting some disease from living in the dark.”

     “How kind of you. You do take such wonderful care of me.” Jon was obviously lying and by his expression Aerys knew it, but he smiled to himself, Jon was as he said a good boy.

     “I asked you here as I said because it is my queen’s nameday.”

     “And all your grandchildren forgot, the nasty creatures. So am I here to hear your rant, because you are disappointed with your grandchildren?” The word rant was questionable and dangerous but true most days.

     “Not all of them.” Aerys said as he stared at the boy.

     “So, one of them.” It was a safe bet he only had two grandchildren, the princess and the prince. Jon wasn’t even sure what their names were in truth. Why should he know or care? He would never know them, and they would never know him.

     “Yes, I currently am not disappointed in one of them.” Aerys looked down at the only grandchild he had, that had reason to forget Rhaella’s nameday.

     “As to what I could do, I could draw her a picture of what I think something looks like.”

     “What you think something looks like?” That was confounding, what he thought something looked like.

     “Yes, I haven’t seen much, or really anything, so it would have to be what I thought it looked like.” Jon lived in the depths of the Keep, he had only seen its depths and the small part of the Keep he passed when brought to have an audience with the king.

     “Like what?”

     “Belarion.”

     Aerys huffed. “No, she has seen many pictures of Dragons. I know.” He smirked. “You have seen pictures of my son Rhaegar, you will sketch her a picture of him for her nameday. She will love the thought and she will be glad for it from me.”

     “Rhaegar?” Of all things or people.

     “Yes.” Aerys glared at Jon, daring him to anger him.

     “I shall try my best.”

     “Good. I will have charcoal and parchment brought down to you. And torches. If you do well I might even give you a reward.” Aerys then waved his hand and Sir Whent took him away.

     “Was that weird? Because it felt weird? It was weird right?” Jon asked Oswell when they had left the king’s influence. “Weird?”

     “It was not ordinary.” Oswell got to see Aerys outside of his audiences with Jon, and that was weird. The king rarely spoke kindly or even just sanely to people and Jon was even rarer to see a half-sane king usually he was hauled out and experienced pain at the king’s insanity. Oswell and the other Kingsguards, Gerold and Arthur saw the terror in Jon’s eyes every time he was told he would be having an audience with his grace. He had good reason, it was a miracle if Jon left the audience without a new scar or wound, not always physical, but always horrific. Oswell was amazed the boy had not broken and become as insane as the king.

     Daenerys asked Rhaenys to follow her down to get something for her flowers from the catacombs, and Rhaenys had reluctantly agreed. Then as Daenerys rummaged around in the old Targaryen stuff as she said she would, Rhaenys went off to guard the door from Daenerys going down to the Black Cells. Daenerys did not notice because she really was looking for something for her mother and had given up on seeing the boy that day. So, she was surprised to hear a voice she recognised from the dark.

     “Mostly.” It was the boy!

     “I think you have done very well.” Sir Oswell replied.

     “Captured his regal manner?”

     “Captured his great heart.” Oswell praised the boy for something, and it did sound like true praise.

     “Then I hope it is as well received by him as it has been by you. I have to just polish it and that is why I need to see this portrait. Are you sure it is here?” Jon was concerned he would anger the king and disappoint the queen. Life did not work well for him when the king got angry with him. Sometimes Jon wasn’t even sure what he did.

     “The king banished everything but two portraits to here. It is here.”

     “Will it really give me such a different insight?” There were days, Jon wished Prince Rhaegar had lived, not just for self-preservation that he would not be tortured so much by a mourning father, but because the Kingsguards spoke so well of him. Arthur would speak of how kind his prince was. Maybe if Rhaegar had lived, Aerys would not torture him for the death he had caused, the him who had died because of Jon. Maybe Rhaegar would have stayed his father’s hand about punishing the boy. Jon wished Rhaegar had lived, so he would not fear death every time Aerys decided to talk to him.

     “It will, it was painted by someone who captured his soul on canvas, you will see the true him.” Oswell looked at the lad and frowned, they could give Jon a mirror and ask him to draw himself and it would show Rhaegar’s true soul. It was why King Aerys could never complete his tortures of Jon, in Oswell’s opinion; Aerys saw Rhaegar and baulked. How could he kill the one child that had more Rhaegar in him behind his favouring of his mother’s colouring than the others, even the son who had Rhaegar’s colouring. Perhaps it was from knowing the boy, but Oswell did not see Rhaegar in Prince Aegon, he saw Aerys, hidden behind his mother’s features, for he had Elia’s chin and brow, but Aerys lived deep in his eyes. Jon was like a dark Rhaegar and that is why the Kingsguards that knew of his existence loved him, he was Rhaegar reborn. Sir Whent thought Aerys saw it too.

     “I will have to believe you. I have one other question.” Jon broke Oswell out of his thoughts.

     “Ask boy.” The knight smiled at him, he loved this boy, not just because he was a part of his dead friend but because he was a joy, he could brood and sulk, but he tried to be optimistic, when he had no reason to be. Jon also tried to be respectful and was well mannered.

     “Why did you bring me with you to find it? Won’t you get in trouble for taking me out of my cell?”

     “Technically I haven’t returned you to it yet.” Sir Whent said with what sound like pride.

     “And they call you the moron Kingsguard.” Jon sounded impressed by his technicality.

     “They do not.” Sir Whent said with some offense.

     “They do, I swear as the sky is purple, they call you that.” The boy sounded sincere in his vow.

     “The sky is blue.” Sir Whent answered his vow.

     “Hmm. Interesting.” He knew that, from his readings, but he still wondered what it was.

     “Ahh, here it is.” The knight must have moved something as various small items were heard to slide.

     “Wow!” The boy breathed in awe.

     “What?” Oswell turned to look at the boy.

     “Are all Targaryen’s so glorious?” Daenerys eavesdropping blushed at the thought that a picture of someone who must be a Targaryen had caused the Black Cell Boy such an awed response.

     “You have seen the King and Queen.”

     “Yes, so there was half a chance.”

     “Are you insulting the king’s appearance?” Sir Whent asked with obvious mirth.

     “The king is perfectly fine.” The boy went silent, Daenerys wondered if he had seen her father lately. “For a person who has been on sabbatical in the wilderness for a decade.” Sir Whent laughed loudly and with great mirth, it echoed around the cavern. Daenerys giggled as quietly as she could because the boy was not wrong, her father was scruffy. She wondered though how often the boy had seen her parents, surely her mother would not abide a child being left to rot in a cell.

     “I will have to tell Hightower and Dayne that one.”

     “So-o, I have to finish this.” He did not need the king to find fault with him.

     “Well let’s get you back to your cell and I will try to remember to lock the door this time.”

     “And you wonder why people say you are the idiot Kingsguard.”

     “Why? Are you saying I should lock prisoners in?” Sir Oswell mocked out a moronic voice and cadence.

     “Usually that is how it is done.” The boy and knight bantered like old friends.

     “Well, thanks for telling me.”

     “You are welcome, I would hate you to be punished because I escaped.”

     “Where would you go?”

     “I don’t know. I don’t know what is out there.”

     “The prettiest thing in the world is in this Keep.”

     “Belarion?” Oswell laughed again, to think the boy would believe an old Dragon skull was pretty.

     “No, Princess Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. They say she is the most beautiful girl in the world.” Oswell Whent informed the boy and Daenerys felt herself blush, she also found herself straining for the boy’s answer.

     “Huh, I couldn’t say.”

     “Because you haven’t met her.”

     “Because I haven’t seen the world.” Somehow Daenerys hoped he would think she was as the tales said, even if she had never care about the saying before.

     Rhaenys was back within moments having heard the crash Sir Whent had made. “What was that noise?”

     “Rats.” Daenerys said, figuring Rhaenys was here to ensure she was loyal to Aegon.

     “Rats?” Rhaenys looked around worried.

     “They scurried away. I found the cloth I was after shall we head up?” Daenerys just started walking toward the doors up.

     They had a special dinner for her mother’s special day. Her father and brother seemed extra offended Aegon and Rhaenys seemed to have forgotten what the day was, but they were saved by Princess Elia producing a finely embroidered cloak she had made for her good-mother. Daenerys gave her mother her flowers and Viserys had a lovely Dragon pedant for the queen. The last person to gift her mother their present was her father. It was a framed picture.

     Queen Rhaella gasped and tears immediately came to her eye, as her hand went to cover her mouth. She started to bite her lower lip and she looked up at her husband with gratitude and love.

     “I knew you would like it.” His voice was not screechy or loud, it was soft and loving. A tone his daughter had rarely heard in company.

     “Aerys… Oh, it is divine.” Rhaella shook her head in awe of the masterpiece in her hand. She turned the frame to show the rest of the table, the younger three recognised the person, though only Rhaenys had ever known him. It was a sketch of Rhaegar, and he looked out of the picture as if he was really there. His hair was half up in a braid and his eyes looked kind and wise. The sketch only captured his upper torso but the detail on the shoulders of his coat were meticulous. Elia was caused to use her napkin for a handkerchief to dry her eyes. “How did you…?”

     “Remember how brilliant he was with his hands?” Aerys replied, as if that explained the picture. “That artistry has not been lost in this world.” Her mother looked at her father with questioning, but she seemed to understand whatever code he was using.

     “I will treasure it then.” Rhaella smiled at the picture. Within herself she was gladdened to have a gift done by her last grandchild’s hand, it made it more special to think Jon had sketched his father for her and done such a wonderous job. As she looked again to her husband, sometimes his madness seemed a thousand miles away. She wished it would be far enough away for him to release Jon, but that he did this for her, and let her know it was also from Jon, gave her hope, her little Direwolf grandson would one day see the freedom of the world.

Chapter Text

     According to Sir Arthur Dayne, the queen had adored her gift from the king, she wished to thank the artist. Jon thought that was not a good idea. The queen couldn’t come down here, it was dusty, and it was dirty and every other time he had encountered the queen had been when he had been going or coming from an audience with the king. She had never come here. Here was not worthy of her presence. It wasn’t worthy of anyone’s presence, he understood the Kingsguards had to come down, because he had to be guarded, but even they should not lower themselves to enter here.

     Thinking of how despicable this place was, as clean as he tried to keep his cell, he thought he should be thoughtful of that girl, that was a lady, that smelled divine. Well, he should tell her she should not sink into these depths. Then he thought she may never come back anyway. The thought saddened him. It shouldn’t. He didn’t want visitors, not here. He however had to admit it was nice to have one. It was nice to smell something sweet for a change. It was also very nice to hear a soft voice rather than the masculine voices of the three Kingsguards that kept him.

     Jon looked at the portrait he had used as a muse for the sketch he had created for the Queen, they hadn’t removed it yet. Crown Prince Rhaegar.   Jon knew that name, knew how he was the perfect prince, the perfect person. Jon knew how he died for no reason, that is not true. Jon feared he died because of him. He wasn’t sure how the prince died, wasn’t entirely sure why. The king had a tendency to say ‘he’ died because of Jon, that it was Jon’s fault. Then terrible things tended to happen to Jon as the king mumbled and scowled at him. Their last meeting was not the normal way their audiences proceeded. Jon thought the ‘he’ was Prince Rhaegar. But so many people had died at the time of his birth there was an entire war’s worth of dead, any of them could be his fault, all of them could be.

     That was another reason the nice smelling girl should stay away; Jon was bad luck. People never seemed to come back, after associating with Jon, he could only imagine the king had them killed to make Jon’s life just a little more painful. It did not matter if he just discouraged them, banished or tortured them to death, no one ever returned. Only the Kingsguards. Jon did not really have many people visiting him over his life, but he never saw anyone twice. He suddenly hoped the girl was alright. His features dropped in concern, which had Sir Arthur looking at him with his own concern.

     “Problem lad?” Arthur did not want Jon to suffer anymore than the boy already did.

     “No, why should there be?” Jon did not want to tell anyone he had be blessed to have a visitor, in the event they did not know, and she was not in trouble. He would hate to get the girl in trouble, she seemed genuinely nice and kind, even if she hadn’t answered his questions. He thought he was probably rude to inquired information from her, after all she was a lady and he was only a prisoner. Not even a well-born prisoner, his reading had told him he was a bastard born, due to his last name or probably lack of one really. He wondered if that was how it went, you didn’t so much have a bastard last name, you just had no real name, so you got the generic name.

     “No reason.” Arthur smiled. Jon was a terrible liar, never having had cause to try to be a good one. He got in trouble whether he told the truth or lied, so the lad did not bother to lie. It made him more honourable than most men Arthur knew. Then again, honour was born into the boy’s blood, how could he help but be honourable?

     Jon nodded thinking he had gotten away with his lie, because he had absolute trust in Arthur Dayne. The knight was the Sword of the Morning, the greatest swordsman in the land, which Jon had read was Westeros. It could be wrong, he never saw outside, so it could be a giant hoax for all he knew. The King may even be a fake. What did it matter? In Jon’s world the king was a madman and real and so were his walls. It did not matter, if it were some colossal joke, it was where he lived. It also was not funny. None of it was funny. So, it must be real, because surely there was nowhere that the life, he lived would be considered acceptable. He couldn’t get depressed by it, but he did not like it.

     Jon looked again at the portrait of the Crowned Prince. His face was handsome, as far as Jon could tell, and his eyes kind, but they held great sadness. Maybe the king was cruel to his son, as he was cruel to Jon. Well, not in the same manner, Jon doubted the Queen would allow her son to be tortured like Jon was. Still his indigo eyes looked sad like he knew doom followed him, like he was waiting for his end and it was going to be painful. Jon knew that feeling, one day whatever amused King Aerys about Jon would fade and then the king would have no reason to keep him alive. Then Jon would die, and he was sure it would be very painful, and it would be terribly lonely. Or maybe one day no kingsguard would come, he would starve and die alone because Aerys was finally done with Jon being alive.

     It was the reason he tried to stay bright and buoyant because he was very scared of the day it went dark. Be optimistic because he dreaded, what was really coming for him; Darkness and loneliness. He would go to his Gods – he did not know who they were – with a smile, because even Hell could not equal Jon’s life. He rubbed the line on his arm, once it had been a slice, a slice he never wanted to feel again.

     “Is your arm paining you, Jon?” Arthur asked with some anger. He hated to see the lad harmed as Aerys harmed him and there was no avenue to save him from the king’s insanity. Arthur did not know what he would do the day Aerys went too far, the day his honour and oaths were truly tested. He did not know he would not follow Jaime Lannister to the executioner’s block.

     “No.” Again, the lad thought he could delude the knight. Sir Arthur would feel badly if he thought Jon was in pain, would feel guilty if he knew the night terrors Jon suffered form his audiences with the king.

     “Alright.” Arthur nodded to confirm Jon’s own delusion that he had succeeded at alleviating Arthur’s worry. Arthur knew too many of Jon’s secrets, probably all of them. Unlike Sir Hightower and Sir Whent, Arthur’s vigil did not stop when the night came. Arthur only ever missed watching the lad as he slept if he had another duty. He would sleep just beyond Jon’s perception, making sure the boy was safe. He had made promises, sworn oaths, he would watch until his death.

     “Arthur, will someone be taking the portrait soon?” Jon asked softly, worried the answer would be in the affirmative. He did not know why but he liked having it in his cell, it made him feel… like his life wasn’t so bad. Not because of the Doom in the prince’s eyes – telling Jon his life could be worse – but for the warmth that came out of the painting, and at the very back a joy. Jon liked the smile the prince had been painted with, it was loving, and it was not an expression Jon experienced much.

     “Did you wish it removed?”

     “No!” Jon blurted out quickly, in case Arthur snatched it away, and why wouldn’t he? Jon never got to keep anything, but he desperately wanted a little extra time with this painting, even if he had no purpose. “I was just asking.” He said quietly and slowly.

     “I doubt any would seek it, it was buried in the catacombs.” Arthur reassured the boy and he looked relieved to know he had longer to spend in its presence. Perhaps he senses it.

     “I do not know why, it is a wonderous painting.” Jon just gazed at it, wishing he had the talent.

     “It hurts to see, for some.” Arthur answered.

     “I would think such beauty would heal.” Jon sighed at the picture of a prince that would be an honour to meet, he was sure. Or maybe he was just trying to live a dream. The boy frowned and grew a pout that Arthur was used to.

     “What is it, Jon?” Arthur asked quietly.

     “It is just such a shame that he is not in the world. I mean, I feel the world would be better to have kept him. I wish I could have met him.”

     “He would have loved you.”

     “Oh, I doubt that.” Jon said with a smile and his usual humility.

     “I was his best friend. He would have loved you.” Arthur said with a determination to his voice that Jon doubted, but who was he to question this knight?

     “That is because: I am delightful.” Jon beamed at Arthur and he saw a smile he had not seen in years; from a face he missed every day.

     “You are.” Arthur grinned; Jon really was delightful.

     I wonder if the girl that smelled of Honey and Roses, would think me delightful? It shouldn’t matter. He would never see her again, but it did matter, and he wished if only one person was ever to frequent his life twice, it would be her. He had no idea why he wished it, but he did.

     Jon picked up his book and started reading, it was about the Dance of Dragons, he did like the tales of old Targaryens, his favourite was Daeron the Young Dragon, quickly followed by Aemon the Dragon Knight. He thought it amusing that he loved their stories so much when the person he should hate the most was a Targaryen. Yet, somehow despite it all, Jon did not hate Aerys, he did not like him, but he did not hate him. He was determined to read every book he could so he could argue his points with the king when he got older and understood his place in the world better. He wanted to be the best educated prisoner in all of Westeros. No, the world. Maybe it should depress him that he believed he would never be free, but he would die quickly if he did not believe in the Light. He could not experience the world in body, so he would know it in word.

Chapter Text

     The next time she saw the boy he wasn’t in his cell. He was in the catacombs under the Red Keep but above the dungeons. He was sitting inside the mouth of the skull of Belarion the Dread – the greatest dragon her family had ever had – lounging actually. Even Rhaenys, her companion at the time gasped.

     Rhaenys had accompanied Daenerys on a trip down to the depths, because she saw a spark of fire in her aunt, a spark Daenerys had not had before. She wondered if Daenerys was so bored with court life that a mystery was her cure. Aegon ranted about the seeming obsession his bride-to-be had with this lad. Rhaenys thought he was jumping the line, their grandfather still would not commit to Aegon taking Daenerys as his bride and there had been more than enough chances to announce it or speak to their mother regarding it. Daenerys said she did not know what her father had decided as some days he still spoke of her marrying Viserys. Rhaenys wished the old man would die or decide, she herself was more than ready to marry and leave the Red Keep. For now, Daenerys’ obsession with finding the answer to the conundrum kept her away from other boys, so Rhaenys told Aegon to be patient and grateful.

     “He is very handsome for a prisoner.” Rhaenys breathed. Maybe Aegon did not need to know this boy was quite this attractive, no wonder if Daenerys had seen him closer, she was amazed.

     They both gasped when a great white beast stepped around him and growled. “Oh, Ghost stop being so irritable. I know you hate the collar and chain, and then muzzle even more, but Sir Dayne won’t take us for walks if you put on your angry face.” The beast turned to regard the boy.

     “I do not take you for walks.” The knight sounded annoyed.

     “Really? So, what would you call it?” He quirked a dark brow over his dark eyes. For a boy living in darkness he seemed to be quite bright in demeanour.

     “Well. ‘walks’ infers I have a leash on you.”

     “What do you call this?” He shook his right leg which clanked as the chain hit the Dragon’s teeth. “It feels like a leash, all I need is a muzzle and Ghost could be my twin.”

     Sir Dayne sighed deeply. “You don’t make this easy you know.”

     “I know, I should really stop being such a gloomy person. There are people that would pay to live like me. … Oh wait, no there aren’t, because no one would want my life.”

     “Jon …” A great sadness came over the knight.

     “Oh, do not stress Sir Dayne, I do not blame you for any of these circumstances I live in. However, as I am not going anywhere,” He shook his foot and chain again. “Could I have some peace and quiet? You know some alone time with my Direwolf and my Dragon. Thanks.” Sir Dayne laughed as he got up and headed out one of the many doors.

     “Don’t go anywhere.”

     “I won’t!” The boy, Jon called once again shaking his chain. “Well Ghost, Belarion now he’s gone let’s escape.” He laughed and leaned his head against one of the skull’s teeth. “What does the sky look like Belarion? I have read it is blue and beautiful but what does blue even look like? I wish you could just come back to life and I could fly you out of here.” He stroked the Direwolf’s head and sat quietly until Sir Dayne returned after maybe ten minutes. “Time to descend again into hell?”

     “Jon, please.” Sir Arthur sounded wounded.

     “No, it is okay Sir Dayne, I know Hell is when the King decides I have to have an audience with him. He makes the Black Cells feel like paradise.”

     “Queen Rhaella tries to help.”

     “I know. Why? It would just be more merciful to let him kill me.”

     “Don’t say that Jon.”

     “It is true. I do not even know how I wrong him. Was it me? Or am I a substitute for a relative of mine he can’t torture?” They left the room and the rest of their conversation was lost to the girls.

     Rhaenys was concerned by the appearance of this boy now she had seen him in light. He was very handsome and although Aegon too was very handsome, even she could see her brother paled in comparison. Also, the boy’s voice was low and hypnotic, when he had spoken to the skull. Somehow, he had a touch of a northern accent on some of his words, Daenerys had not mentioned that, but then Daenerys had had little opportunity to hear many Northmen speak, it any. Daenerys only really saw the royal family and their guards, she had very limited interactions with outsiders, when she did Sir Barristan Selmy was always there to remind any boy there were not here to woo the princess. Mostly Daenerys was her mother’s companion. Queen Rhaella was just as watchful of her daughter as her husband-brother was. Sometimes it seemed there was a great secret about how important her aunt was.

     Rhaenys knew House Martell had an expectation of her brother, he was to be a ‘Dornish’ King, part of his requirements it seemed was to marry Daenerys, which the princess did not understand. Aegon was to be King because he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, just as she was her father’s daughter, why would he even need a particular wife? It was understandable that with their grandfather’s madness, nothing was ever set and done, he swung from love to hate in an instant and he kept a tie rein on his relatives. Since her father’s death, her mother had never been allowed to visit her brothers in Dorne alone, or even with Rhaenys and her brother. Even when her uncles, Doran and Oberyn, visited they could have no private meetings. Always there was a guard of some sort. Aerys said it was to ensure his good-daughter’s safety as no one could be trusted and Rhaegar would want to know his beloved wife was safe. Aegon said of course, Rhaenys thought the king was sending some message because their mother never seemed comforted by that sentiment.

     King Aerys also did not like her Uncle Oberyn’s wife, Cersei Lannister. Understandable, it had been her twin who tried to assassinate him. Her Aunt Cersei did not like the King either, she was resigned Rhaenys believed to being Oberyn’s bride, sometimes she even seemed half happy with it. Elia said she should be, Ellaria Sand, Oberyn’s main paramour, said her uncle was a man who knew a woman. Cersei was not happy that her uncle was not loyal, but then he was Dornish, what did the Lioness expect? Her uncle was not happy the king had forced a marriage on him, though could not complain about how beautiful his wife was. Cersei Lannister was a great beauty, with golden hair and bright fierce green eyes. She wore a masque of arrogance, something Rhaenys thought she inherited from her father Lord Tywin. It had not always been so, she remembered when they first married her new aunt had been sad and in her little opinion, she seemed scared, Rhaenys had tried to gift her a doll to make her feel better and her aunt had smiled a beautiful sad smile but refused to take it saying she was a Lioness and Rhaenys was in more need of its comfort. Cersei hadn’t been wrong, life in the Keep changed after the Upheaval. She had grown Rhaenys thought to love Uncle Oberyn, they had a son, and then a golden daughter and then every child died. Oberyn had more children, with other women and Cersei’s love soured. Oberyn had not cared, he had many women to love the wild prince he was. Cersei clung however to her only two children. Stefan and Jo’Hannah were Cersei’s only delights and they were delights. Stefan was tall and dark like any Dornish prince, he was also steady of personality and his mind strong. Jo’Hannah was small and golden like her mother, and her personality was light and kind, she was flower in the desert.

     Cersei and Elia did not get on well, Elia tried very hard to be kind and open to the Lannister lady, because Cersei remained aloof from the Martells. Cersei usually glared at the princess and if she did talk to her it was with narrowed, suspicious eyes and clipped words. Usually there was a question about what Elia was trying to achieve, and reference to hiding because a fear of the sun revealing. Rhaenys did not know what went on between them but Cersei need only raise an eyebrow at times to cause her mother to stop talking and sit back.

     Rhaenys actually admired her aunt at times. Because she was strong and smart and no one cowered her, not even the king, she would not tempt his insanity as Aerys hated Tywin and was not above punishing Cersei for his ‘crimes’, but she also did not pander as much as others. Cersei would not prattle false words, she just refused to speak at all. She also did not sew. She saw no point, what was thread on cloth going to achieve? It would win no wars. Still, Rhaenys felt her aunt was not happy in her marriage to her uncle, she was resigned.

     Daenerys’ happy sigh snapped Rhaenys out of her musings about the politics of her family. Rhaenys had not known Daenerys to think much of boys at all, but this mystery boy had the petite princess’ attention. He was handsome, there was also something slightly familiar about him, but Rhaenys could not catch what, like it kept ducking into the shadows when she tried to perceive it. However, she needed to address this, would she call it a crush? This crush Daenerys had or was developing for the boy. It was of no use. Daenerys would marry Aegon, there were too many people working to ensure it. Also, the boy was a prisoner, what chance could there ever be? He was handsome though and there was an intensity to him, one that was very appealing. Who knew they had such a pretty plaything hidden in their keep? But a plaything Daenerys could not get attached to. The thought though that this boy was down here, made the Keep less terrible to live in, and maybe she could make use of him to alleviate her own boredom, one day. She would ask her grandfather on one of his good days to let her play with him, if he was still here is a year or so, as she was sure she would be.

     “Arthur.”

     “Jon.”

     “When we were up there with Belarion, did you smell something?” Jon was sure he smelt the scent of Honey and Roses. Surely not, surely the girl could not have been around.

     “I agree, Ghost needs a bath.” Arthur looked at the beast that ignored him, as it moved to the back of the boy’s cell.

     “I meant a nice smell.” Ghost glared at Jon. “I was not saying you were bad smelling. I did not even notice you had a smell. Arthur said you stink, not me. Though now he mentions it, you are getting a tad, aromatic.” Ghost turned and walked away; Jon shrugged; Arthur smiled.

     “Maybe you need a bath too.” Arthur smiled at the lad.

     Over the next few days, maybe two weeks, Daenerys escaped Rhaenys to go down and visit the lad below. She had learnt the routine when was best to catch the various Kingsguards leaving and how long she had before they were likely to return, she would sneak forward and she and ‘Jon’ would have small conversations about things they had read in books they had both read. He asked her many questions about living in the Light then immediately asked her not mention, as he didn’t want to ruin the experience of learning it all for himself. He tried to find out who she was, they had a guessing game, where he would try to guess who she could be. She would ask about his time here and why he was here. He could never answer her, he gave her as many theories as she herself had. She would not have one visit a day but many little ones, remaining in the dungeons from dawn ‘til dusk, catching every moment she could and Jon seemed thrilled to have a visitor and would come to the front of his cell whenever his guards left as if indicating she should hurry so they did not miss a second of possible conversation. She still kept her hood up, to obfuscate her appearance and Jon never seemed offended. The great white beast lived in the cell with him, and sometimes it was the reason they got to have long conversations because Oswell and Arthur did take Ghost for walks and then Jon was left alone longer.

     Jon knew so little of himself he could not tell her much, but she did learn, he had been here as long as he remembered, had taken his first steps here, into Arthur’s arms. Jon did not exactly remember it, but Arthur had recounted it to him, so he did to her. She found it strange that this boy spoke of kingsguards by their first names.

     “It sounds like you speak of friends.”

     “They are my friends the only ones I have ever had, probably ever will have.”

     That was sad and it was stinging when he said that, because she wanted to be his friend and would wish he would say she was. “Oh.” She said sadly.

     “Maybe when I guess your identity correctly you will have no reason to wear that hood and we can be friends.” He had heard her sorrow, and he did think of her as a friend, but if they truly were, she wouldn’t still be hiding. Everyday he told her not to return to this horrible place, just to see the curiosity that he was and every night he recited why she shouldn’t but everyday he rejoiced when she returned. He talked deep into the night to Ghost of the Girl of Honey and Roses.

     Not everyday did she get to avoid everyone and spend her days waiting for the boy. The irony was she was getting quite good at embroidery as she needed something to do as she waited for the guards to take time away. She had been embroidering white wolves and had gotten strange looks on the days she was caused to stay above ground and sew with the ladies, people – not Rhaenys – were curious to the inspiration for the embroidery. One night, Viserys asked her directly, because her room was slowly filling with white wolves.

     “Tell me sister, what is this obsession with white wolves?” She stared at him, afraid to answer.

     Her father’s attention was suddenly on her and he gazed long and silently at her. Her mother, the queen was about to try to say something when he spoke. “I would imagine little Dany has heard tales and is putting her imagination to work.” Her father’s voice was quieter and calmer than usual.

     “What tales?” Viserys had heard nothing.

     “There are tales of a great white wolf running the woods beyond the city on dark nights. Pursued by a white knight. As the only knights that wear their armour white are my kingsguard, they are ghosts as my aunt Jenny used to speak of.”

     “Father, that is nonsense.”

     “They say it is big enough to be a fabled Direwolf. Never this far south, but if your sister wishes to sew Direwolves she can.” Aerys got angry as he finished. He did not look at his wife’s worried expression just gazed at his daughter and smiled warmly at her.

     So, it was that King Aerys, The Mad King, in his madness declared, so long as his princess was within the walls of the Keep, she was to be left alone to do as she willed, no one was to crowd her or bother her. That included her family, from her brother down, only her mother and he had the leave to ask for her time. She was allowed total freedom within the walls of their home. She used it well to no longer have to sneak around, she could go right to the corner of the corridor without question to wait for the guards to leave and Jon to be free to be her companion. Aegon did not seem pleased at all but what could he do, oppose the king?

Chapter Text

     A couple of weeks later as Daenerys was walking towards the throne room, she caught a glimpse of the boy shackled being led away bloodied and beaten from the throne room, down a side corridor, he leaned heavily on Sir Dayne.

     “His grace was not happy that you did not beg for mercy or make a sound. I however am proud of your strength Jon. Do not let him break you.” Arthur spoke quietly.

     “What did I do?”

     “Nothing.” Arthur growled, angry at this offense.

     “He said that it was my fault. That ‘he’ was dead because of me, his grace always says that but who is it that died because of me? Who is ‘he’?”

     “It is not your fault.”

     “His grace said today is the day, fifteen years. But I am not even that old yet.”

     “It is not your fault, it was never your fault.” Sir Dayne’s voice was sharp with anger. “This has to end.”

     “It’ll never end.” The boy’s voice was so forlorn, Daenerys was moved to tears and then uncontrollable anger. She stormed towards the throne room, her father would explain this!

     As the princess entered the throne room her heart stopped, and all the steam went out of her sails. Men were moving a large cross shaped wooden device through the door, from the two utmost beams hung shackles caked with blood. One of the men held a cat-of-nine-tails whip, also dripping blood, while serving women attempted to mop up blood from the floor in the centre of the room. Daenerys almost gagged at the sight but worse was the joyous look on her father’s face as he watched the women sop up all the red gore. She stood in shock in the doorway disgusted by her father’s treatment of the boy from the Black Cell. Wait Sir Dayne had said his name, what was it? Jon, no longer would she think of him as an anonymous boy from a Black Cell, he deserved to be honoured more, he deserved his name.

     Queen Rhaella swept into the room like a black storm. Her features frozen in anger. “What have you done?!” Her husband’s only response was to look up from the boy’s – Jon’s blood with a wicked smirk on his features and an insane glint in his eye. The Queen seemed to not even see her daughter as she raged on, this was a side of her mother she had never seen.

     “A cursed on you Aerys! You are a monster! My only consolation is we all know you have sealed your own fate with this act. The Gods will not allow the blood to be spilled without a reckoning and this cannot be ignored!” With that she spun and stormed out the door, tears streaming down her face. Daenerys took one more look at her father’s atrocity and followed her mother. She could hear her mother calling for a maester, no, what she said was: “Every maester and physician in this bloody keep had better follow me if they wish to keep their heads!” A dragon had woken in her mother and it was spewing flames. Her mother moved quicker than Daenerys believed her capable of, she knew where she was, but she could never quite catch her, at most she caught a glimpse of her mother’s black skirts disappearing around a corner.

    Daenerys caught her mother, the Queen at the boy’s … Jon’s cell. The gate was flung open and the Queen knelt in the boy’s blood, three kingsguard standing around her as she cradled Jon’s broken and bloody form.

     “The pain was too great your grace, he has passed out.” Sir Hightower’s deep voice echoed around the cell.

     “What did the King do?” Rhaella’s voice wavered with the intensity of her emotions.

     “You do not want to know your grace.” Sir Arthur’s voice was so sad, Daenerys thought he must be weeping for the boy, but she saw his eyes were dry and terribly cold.

     “You will tell me!” The Queen’s voice turned to iron.

     Sir Hightower sighed deeply. “If the Queen wishes to know…”

     “I will know.”

     Sir Arthur cleared his throat. “The King called for Jon. We knew this would be a bad audience, after all it is the anniversary of the Battle. Jon knew he was in trouble, but the king commanded me to bring him. The King asked Jon if he knew what today was. Of course, he didn’t, how could he? The lad lives in a dungeon. Time is inconsequential here. Then they entered and I thought your husband would kill him this time.” Sir Dayne stopped speaking and closed his eyes as if trying to shut out the visions in his mind’s eye.

     “Sir Arthur. What did they do? What did he have them do?”

     “To be honest it was too terrible to speak about in the presence of ladies.”

     “I am your Queen, I have been that monster’s wife since I was Jon’s age. I cannot be shocked by his cruelty.” The Queen had taken a cloth and was gently wiping the blood from the boy’s wounds. She didn’t even look up at the white knight.

     “I was thinking of Princess Daenerys.” Sir Arthur Dayne replied nodding to the shaking girl at the cell door. She was staring wide-eyed at the battered boy in her mother’s arms and wondered at her mother’s gentle ministrations. She was so shocked she did not notice the master and the two physicians pass her and enter to help the queen.

      Queen Rhaella’s head snapped around to gaze at her daughter, her eyes softened when they met the terrified eyes of her daughter.

     “My sweet girl you should not have followed here.” Daenerys wanted her mother to hug her and make her feel safe, but she knew that would not happen, Jon needed her more. Rhaella turned back to Sir Arthur, “Daenerys will have to learn the truth about the nature of her father eventually.” Looking down at the boy she held tenderly, “And I think this vision will never leave her, so now is that time. Continue Sir Dayne, but perhaps you cannot be as graphic as I would demand.” The boy flinched as the physician touched him.

     “Yes, your grace. The Trident was fifteen years ago today as you know.” The Queen nodded with sadness for the loss that day brought to their family. “The King said it was Jon’s fault, that it is because of Jon that he is dead.”

     “Ridiculous.” The Queen spat. Daenerys understood a piece of the Jon puzzle. The Battle of the Trident. Her oldest brother, Rhaegar had died this day fifteen years ago, murdered by Robert Baratheon.

     So that must be it. Thought Daenerys. Jon is Robert Baratheon’s son, which is why father hates him so much. She hated that part of herself agreed with him that the Baratheon’s suffering was warranted, but then she remembered the boy, Jon saying she smelled of honey and roses, and she could not hate him. Surely her brother whom she had never known but had heard much about would not wish this punishment on Jon even if he was Robert’s son.

     A deep low growl brought Daenerys back to reality. The great white beast was unchained and unmuzzled, and extremely protective of its master. It was as if everyone suddenly remembered the danger they were in, the beast must only have listened to Jon because even the three kingsguards backed away. Daenerys saw her mother start to shake with fear, but she would not release the boy; the maester and physicians scrambled out of the cell completely.

     “Ghost…” came a whisper of a voice, the beast dropped its head to nuzzle the boy’s mop of black curls and lick his face for comfort. Jon did not open his eyes and Daenerys thought he wasn’t even actually awake, he had just felt the beast’s anger as the beast must have felt the boy’s pain.

     “So, for Rhaegar and his sword, fifteen sword cuts. For Robert and his hammer, fifteen strikes.” The queen raised a questioning eyebrow. “He was struck with fist and mace.” Was Sir Arthur’s explanation. “And for Jon and his defiance, fifteen lashes. One of each year of each. The whip was a specially made cat-of-fifteen-tails.” Both the ladies gasped, even one of the physicians took a sharp intake of breath. “He never faltered, he did not make a sound. He stared the Mad King down through it all. I believe the King was enraged more because he wanted the lad to beg for mercy, but he never did, he stayed defiant.” He paused to stare at the boy. “His father would be proud.” The queen let out a sob. “My Queen. The king’s cruelty is becoming out of control.” Sir Arthur’s words hung in the silence and the stench of blood.

     “The boy must be moved. This cell is not conducive to healing.” The master interrupted the stillness. “If he is to have any chance of surviving this destruction of his body, he must not stay here.”

     The queen looked at the old man, who was considered a minor man of his order here in the Red Keep, as usually all master duties fell to Grand Maester Pycell, who the queen noted had not answered her summons. She remembered this man’s face, he had been the Maester on Dragonstone when Daenerys was born. She owed this man her life. He had spoken to her in the long weeks of recovery of times he had spent in the Citadel under the tutelage of her Great Uncle Aemon Targaryen and the esteem he held for the elderly Maester. Her thoughts went to The Wall and the kindly old dragon freezing on it, serving the realm humbly that he could have ruled from the Iron Throne. He had been close to Rhaegar, they corresponded regularly. What would the Realm be like if Aemon had taken the Throne instead of her Grandfather Aegon the Fifth? She looked down at the boy in her arms and wondered why no Aemon had ever sat the Iron Throne. They had always been – if history is to be believed – the nobler, wiser and kinder siblings in their families. Aemon, the Dragon knight was younger than Aegon the fourth – the Unworthy – but their sister the queen had loved Aemon. Maester Aemon named for the Dragon Knight was humble and wise; wiser than his younger brother whom he called Egg – Aegon V the Unlikely. Would the next Aemon - it had been her son’s wish. - have been a better king than his brother Aegon? The world may never know. As she looked back up into the maester’s eyes, she chose to trust this man with Jon’s life.

     “Sir Whent gather his meagre possessions and bring his Direwolf. Sir Hightower, Sir Dayne carry him to my apartments. They should be far more conducive to healing. He will not sleep in this dark hole another day.”

     Daenerys had a momentary spell of confusion as she watched the two knights gently carry the boy out of the cell and towards the stairs. She gazed at Jon’s only actual possession pad behind them, needing no chain to lead it. The Direwolf, the great white beast with its blood red eyes required no control device as the knights carried the only control that existed over the beast. Daenerys thought what would have been the result of her father’s tortures of Jon if the beast had been with its master, she believed the blood on the floor would not have been Jon’s, but then they would have killed it taking Jon’s only true and loyal friend and decided it was strangely better the beast wasn’t there to protect him but would be there to comfort him in his recovery. He would recover, regardless of what the physicians whispered about it being a miracle, he must. What confused her was the Direwolf; Direwolves were not a symbol of House Baratheon. Direwolves belonged to House Stark of Winterfell, in fact it was told Lord Stark’s children each had a Direwolf as a constant companion, and rumour said they were terrors to behold to anyone who wronged the Stark children.

     Viserys called the Starks the Usurper’s Dogs and spat on their names, and it was true Lord Eddard Stark was known to have ridden beside Robert Baratheon in his rebellion. However, it was also known that Lord Stark came to the Trident after Rhaegar’s death and he left the Trident to take Rhaegar’s body to Dragonstone to her mother. Then there was all that controversy about Lord Stark’s sister – Baratheon’s betrothed – who either ran away with Rhaegar or was abducted by her brother, depending who was telling the tale. Lady Stark died soon after Rhaegar anyway, so no one was certain. The King had returned her body to Lord Stark to bury and pardoned him at his queen’s insistence for honouring Rhaegar. The King had even reinstated Lord Stark’s Marriage to Lady Ashara Dayne – Arthur’s sister before sending him off to the North to rarely be seen again.

     Was Jon, Lord Stark’s son instead? But then why was he here? Lord Stark was pardoned and had served as Warden to The North loyally since the rebellion. Surely her father would not anger a Lord of Westeros by holding his child hostage and torture the child, would that not incite another war? Lord Stark had other siblings though, an older brother whom her father had – apparently – brutally executed along with his father, Lord… what was his name Stark? Jon became more of an enigma the more she encountered him.

     The king was livid and raged for days that the queen was harbouring, and healing Jon. Daenerys did learn something from his rage though: Jon Snow was his full name, making him a baseborn of the North. Still that was no help, why would a Lord care what happened to any of his bastard children? Most don’t even acknowledge them. Her father forbade any of the rest of the family visiting the Queen’s apartments while she ‘let that northern Dog in her rooms’. Her mother was not chastised and even said she was glad she would not need endure his company and if that was all it took to get rid of him, she would be harbouring the little Direwolf for the rest of her life. Viserys and Aegon didn’t really care, it peaked their curiosity for a few days as why this ‘dog’ was so important. Rhaenys was more concerned as her curiosity extended to how the Black Cell Boy became so injured and was disgusted when Daenerys confided what she knew. The most surprising reaction was from Rhaenys and Aegon’s mother – Rhaegar’s widow- Princess Elia Martell of Dorne. Elia had always been kind to Daenerys, as a sister; respectful to the King and Queen; and totally devoted to her and Rhaegar’s children, but Elia had been distant as well. Only as close and intimate with the Targaryens as she needed to be. She had never visited the Queen’s rooms in the years she had lived in the Red Keep to Daenerys’ or Rhaenys’ knowledge. The day she heard that Jon was in the Queen’s rooms she dropped her embroidery and rushed to the Queen. The princesses watched as Elia left the apartments in tears a few hours later and Rhaenys said her mother didn’t stop crying for two days, she could not be comforted and would not explain her sorrow.

     Daenerys’ own concern for Jon lead her to do something she would not believe herself capable of, rebellion. She ignored his declaration and visited her mother. She did not sneak she walked boldly, when a guard in her house colours stopped her she demanded he remove his hands from her royal personage, as her father had declared only weeks ago she was to be unaccosted within the castle walls, unlimited in access. True that wasn’t exactly what he said, but it was close, so the guard dropped his hand and let the princess pass.

     A maid let her in, and she went immediately to her mother’s bed chamber to ask where Jon was, but she thought she shouldn’t use his name as it would appear familiar. Her mother was not there but Jon was. On a little bed near the hearth with Ghost lying beside it. Very slowly she approached the boy, she thought to hold his hand and give him comfort. This would be the first time she would ever get to touch him.

Chapter Text

     Queen Rhaella returned to her chambers to check on Jon and found a delightful sight. Her daughter Daenerys was sitting by the bed Rhaella had set up for Jon, holding his hand gently and telling him he was going to be fine. She understood this whole event had been terrifying for her young daughter, to see such cruelty visited upon another person. To know her father was the one who commanded this violation of another’s existence. Rhaella smiled at her daughter’s beautiful heart to care so deeply for a boy she did not know, because he was in pain.

     As sweet as this was, Rhaella was enraged at her husband. What was Aerys thinking? She felt guilty for failing to shield Jon from Aerys, for failing to keep her word to Eddard Stark. How should she inform him? She should, but Lord Stark was barely held contained to think Aerys had Jon, he would go to war for his nephew, for the tortures Aerys visited on the boy.

     Her brother confused her. If Aerys hated Jon so deeply, why not just send him away, or declare him a bastard to all the world, why keep him here? He seemed almost joyous after any interaction with the boy, whether it was a peaceful or aggressive audience, Aerys always appeared to be happier having seen the boy.

     Rhaella rarely got to see her grandson, because Aerys would not allow it, the visits became harder as Jon grew. She would not let him go now Aerys had let him slip through his fingers. She knew he could not walk free, but he could have a room instead of a cell. She would stand up for Rhaegar’s son, because it would break her son’s heart to see his boy treated like this. Now, she could stare at Rhaegar’s face all day, hidden by Lyanna’s colouring.

     Aerys had been livid after hearing Elia had visited her and seen Jon. Rhaella had no idea she would show up or why she would even care to see her son’s rival. She had gently stroked his face and wept, which Rhaella understood. Jon was hidden by his colouring, but he had Rhaegar’s features, make him Targaryen coloured and he would be Rhaegar’s twin. Rhaella wondered why Elia had been so upset though, was it seeing how similar Jon was to Rhaegar, was it for what this son endured so hers could be safe. Did Elia see the price Jon paid for Aegon to have his throne? Still everyone’s reactions were far more severe than Rhaella had thought.

     She looked at her daughter, even Daenerys seemed more pained by this event than one would think and she had no idea this boy was her nephew. Rhaella smiled again, not for her daughter or her grandson, but for a memory she had of holding a dark-haired Direwolf boy’s hand once as he tried to recover from being set on his arse in a melee. Her old friend, her dearest friend, though she had never revealed that was how she saw him, Rickard Stark. The realm probably thought they had never even met. They had and he had helped her, in an affair of the heart. While he got his head rung like a bell, Rhaella had been spending a few precious moments with Sir Bonifer Tarry. She could have married Bonifer, but her father disliked something about him, and made her marry Aerys.

     The worst part was when Bonifer went, so did Rickard and for some reason that had made her feel less safe. Perhaps because terrible things happened after she married. Aerys was always a dutiful son, and she was not a dutiful daughter. Her father was crueller than any knew, and Aerys followed their father’s commands, even if it hurt his sister. She blamed her father for her brother’s demise into insanity - a chivalrous Prince was forced to be a villain and it snapped his mind in half.

     “Daenerys, darling. What are you doing here?” She watched Daenerys jump in surprise and act caught. “Your father said, I was to have no visitors.”

     “I have permission to go about the Keep as I please.” Daenerys said the same to her mother as the guard.

     “I believe your father’s order superseded that permission.” Aerys would be livid, he wanted no Dragon to get too close to the Direwolf. Sometimes Rhaella wondered which her brother was protecting the young Dragons or Jon. His wrath had gone into overdrive once he found out Elia had visited.

     “He was so hurt, Mother.” Daenerys looked back at Jon and reached down to tuck a curl behind his ear. “Will he recover?”

     “He will.” Rhaella went to stand beside her daughter. “He may however, be punished more if we disobey your father.” The queen watched her daughter’s indecision, Daenerys’ caring soul wanted to help the boy. Rhaella smiled, her daughter was to marry either her brother Viserys or nephew Aegon, Rhaella out of that choice preferred Aegon. It would be nice for her daughter to marry a nice boy, like Jon. Not Jon because Aerys really would kill him for that, but Rhaella had found Direwolves to be true men of heart, Daenerys deserved a softer life than Rhaella had been cursed too. She liked Aegon, but he had a touch of arrogance that Rhaella did not like.  “Run along, before you are caught.”

     Daenerys followed her mother’s instruction; she would hate Jon to be hurt more. She feared he would not fully recover. She also, was in need of processing the wonderful sensations she had experienced from simply touching Jon. His skin felt cool, but his hand was warm, deeply warm. Like his bones were on fire and his skin acted like an icy armour and his flesh kept the two forces apart. She wanted to go back and hold his hand again.

     She wanted to run her fingers through his lovely hair. Before her mother had returned, she had been tempted to wrap a curl around one of her fingers, to run her fingers through his hair to watch the curls bounce back into place. His hair was so soft and silken, she could not imagine how, since he had lived in a cell. She had owned a miniature poodle once, and its soft fur was akin to Jon’s curls, so soft. The poodle had been black by her Father’s insistence, House Targaryen colours he said. She had cuddled that poodle until it died in her arms of old age. She wanted to cuddle Jon now.

     Jon was not fully awake, he hurt, and they kept giving him this milk like drink that made the pain go but made him sleepy. He thought he was dreaming because he smelt honey and roses and heard the soft tones of the girl that wore it. He wanted to open his eyes to see the dream, but he could not manage it. He felt a soft hand take his and hold it, a very warm very soft and sweet-smelling hand. There was better light in this new room, so if he could have opened his eyes, he might have seen her.

     When Jon could open his eyes, the queen sat beside him and she was sewing, she looked peaceful and beautiful. How did the king ever capture the heart of such a wonderful woman?

     “What are you doing?”

     “I am sewing my daughter’s Wedding Cloak.”

     “What is it for?”

     “When a couple weds the girl wears the cloak of her father’s House to the ceremony and after they wed, she wears the cloak of her husband’s House.” Always her voice was soothing, for some reason the queen had visited him over his life, she was a constant remembrance. She was not his first memory his first memory was terrifying. He shuddered even now. “Are you alright Jon?” He nodded and looked at her sewing to distract himself.

     “So, you are sewing the cloak she wears into the ceremony.” The red, black and Three-Headed Dragon of House Targaryen.

     “Or the one she wears out of it.”

     “But it is your House’s cloak how could she wear it out?” Rhaella looked up at the boy and held his gaze so innocently asking how House Targaryen could commit marry incestuously.

     “Sometimes our House marries within itself.”

     “Hmm.” Jon thought that did not sound a good continued policy.

     “I know. Believe me, I know.” She sighed but continued sewing.

     “Thank you for the soft pillows, and the sweet smells.” He poked his pillow with a finger, Rhaella smiled at the actions of, she was certain, favourite grandchild.

     Aerys read the message in his hand a third time, he scowled at the words it held.

The Hatter has revealed the egg. It is cracked but will survive.

     How dare they! They conspired against him, their king. Their code did not save them, he knew what they meant, he knew what they planned. His downfall. They would not have it.

     “Is this all that was sent?”

     “Yes, your grace.”

     “Thank you Pycelle, your loyalty is appreciated.” With a wave of his hand he dismissed the Grand Maester. Aerys walked to the window to out over the city, this was dangerous and he would need nip it in the bud.

     Basically, everyone followed the command to stay away from the Queen while the boy recovered and stay in her rooms. Elia was always wishing to be updated on his progress and his health. For a short while it was as if she was more interested in him than in her own son. The three Kingsguards still attended him in the Queen’s chambers, but no other kingsguard. Ghost had settled to accept the kind woman but not her maid, but the Queen enjoyed tending to the needs of her favourite little boy, even if he was no longer little.

     The old maester was a miracle worker, Jon recovered well from what was said by Sir Hightower, Ser Whent and Sir Dayne. King Aerys demanded he be shackled by his foot as before. Daenerys could not visit her mother to see for herself so had lowered herself to eavesdropping on the knights as they spoke quietly of their charge. Truth was this lack of seeing Jon was getting hard to bear, always before she could just sneak down and watch him, but the closest she got was watching from a window when He was in her mother’s garden, usually sitting and reading, or using Ghost as a crutch at first. Every trip, every falter had he jumping forward to try and catch the boy at least a level below her. She may only ever see him like this forever more, if her mother had truly freed him of his cell, she would never be able to touch or speak to him again. Daenerys felt terrible because she wished Jon Snow would be returned to his cell so he could be hers again to talk with to gaze upon.

     Rhaella got much joy at this intimate time with Jon, he never got over his curiosity and amazement for the soft things in life. Pillows bewildered him, soft things and soft sheets and furs. Sweet perfumed scents also had him smelling everything thrice. She did find it curious that many times he shook his head in disappointment at the scents he sought, as if looking for one and not finding it. When the Queen was present, he was always a bright and optimistic child, but she learnt from happening upon him without warning, he bore some of his father’s doom about him. Jon did not however have the privilege to dwell there as Rhaegar had, he was always picking himself up and regularly nodded to himself as if he was giving himself a prep talk in his head. Rhaella guessed that was Lyanna, she wished she had gotten to know the girl that lit Rhaegar’s darkness and birthed this beautiful boy.

     “Your grace, what is this?” Jon held up a piece of toast smothered in honey, she had a sweet tooth which she had passed on to Daenerys, they regularly used to eat honeyed sandwiches in the gardens on mother-daughter picnics.

     “That is honey, nectar of the Gods.” She replied.

     Jon stared at it and placed a finger in the golden syrup, licking the finger slowly to savour the sweet taste. “Mmm. Nectar of the Gods, makes so much sense.” He whispered to himself, the Girl of Honey and Roses – now he had confirmed the honey part – was from the Gods. Of course, she was. He wondered if he asked the Queen if she would know the girl by her scent. He decided not to ask, he did not want to get the girl in trouble.

     He slept peacefully that night as he dreamed of eating honey on toast with a girl smelling of honey and roses, but he still could not see her face.

Chapter Text

     One day a couple of months after that terrible day, the younger Targaryens – Aegon and Daenerys – were going to visit the great skulls of the Dragons of their family, when there sitting in Belarion’s mouth was a dark-haired boy playing a harp beside a dozing Sir Hightower, his great white Direwolf’s head in his lap. Aegon told Daenerys to stay behind him for her own protection. Jon stopped playing the beautiful song and turned his head to regard the ‘intruders’, because that is what they seemed to be in this scene.

     “Yes, Dragons can be very dangerous when surprised. Belarion however is a good-tempered Dragon, age has mellowed him.” Jon said with a smile on his face and an affectionate pat of the great Dragon’s skull.

     “Do you think this is funny?” Aegon demanded angrily. Daenerys thought it funny. “You jibe about the greatest Dragon of my family’s history.”

     “You obviously do not know Belarion very well Prince Targaryen. Sorry I have no idea who you are. Belarion is a gentle soul now, he likes to sleep and eat mammoths, strangely.” Jon looked perplexed by the statement he had just made. “I mean isn’t it too cold for fire Dragons in The North where mammoths live?” He was talking to the skull not Aegon. “Why would that be your favourite meat? Wouldn’t horse or stag be better?”

     “Are you mad boy?” Aegon asked, “You are talking to the skull of a Dragon who died centuries ago. And you are talking to it like it will reply.”

     “Why do you think he would not answer? Why do you think his soul has left his bones? Ignore him Belarion he obviously doesn’t understand Dragons at all. You can just talk to me and pretend he isn’t here.” To emphasise his disregard Jon returned to playing the harp. “This is Sir Hightower’s and Ghost’s favourite song too, my Dragon friend, I hope it helps you sleep.”

     “How dare you!” Aegon was furious.

     Jon looked irritated. “Oh, do be quieter, you’ll wake Sir Hightower.” His voice was low but his tone was commanding.

     “What?!” Aegon couldn’t believe this boy’s insolence. He could understand his grandfather’s annoyance with this one, he had no respect for his betters and definitely did not act appropriately for his station. He acted like Aegon’s equal.

     As if to prove Jon’s point the old knight started to stir. “What did I tell you?” Jon rolled his eyes.

     His beautiful brown eyes. Daenerys thought.

     “I am your Prince! You cannot talk to me in this fashion.”

     “Firstly, I don’t care if you are the King of all Essos. Secondly, why can’t I?”

     “Because I am your Prince!”

     “Again, we are at point one: I don’t care.” Jon’s voice backed up his words.

     Aegon surged forward in anger only to be met by the barred teeth of the Direwolf, whose speed of movement from his master’s lap was phenomenal. Ghost was not muzzled. Its chain was long enough Aegon could feel the heat of its breath on his face.

     “Ghost.” Jon touched the wolf’s flank. “Don’t eat the Prince.”

     “What is going on?” Sir Hightower was awake now. “Jon call back the Direwolf, if he harms the Prince your punishment will be severe.” It occurred to Daenerys that Sir Hightower’s concern was not with Aegon’s safety but with Jon’s. Aegon smirked triumphantly almost identically to the way Viserys did when he tortured her, the way she hated. He found no victory in Jon’s expression, Jon just smiled back at him, and Daenerys saw the defiance in his eyes that must irk her father so. She found the look intoxicating.

     “Oh, but Sir Hightower if I don’t the king will be down one idiot heir. It may be worth it.” He said with a shrug, never once taking his eyes off Aegon’s.

     “Jon!” Sir Hightower reprimanded. Aegon swallowed hard as he realised the shackled boy had all the power here and if Jon wished it even the kingsguard could not save him from Jon’s beast. His eyes dropped.

     “However, the princess should not have to witness such violence. Come back here Ghost, let the silly boy be. I’ll sing you a song, one that will help Hightower and Belarion sleep and make you dream of snow and ice.” The creature immediate turned to comply and circled its master to lay its head once more in his lap. “That’s an obedient Direwolf.” Jon’s hands strummed the harp.

     “Prince Aegon, you and her highness should leave.” Sir Hightower said looking at Jon Snow with concern. Aegon grabbed Daenerys’ arm and pulled her away, pushing her before him. She really wanted to stay and listen to the song.

     “Grandfather will hear of this!”

     As it turned out Aegon told his mother first and when he said he was going to tell King Aerys, he received a very unexpected and hard slap across his face. “You will not mention this to anyone Aegon Targaryen!”

     “Mother he commanded me! A prisoner commanded a Targaryen Prince.” Aegon said exasperated.

     “No Aegon. Rhaegar was a Targaryen Prince. You have yet to prove yourself one. Targaryen princes are more than silver hair and blue or purple eyes and a red three-headed dragon on your armour.” Ellia was gentle in her reprimand of her son.

     “I am sorry Mother.” Daenerys did not think he actually looked sorry but Elia believed him. “I may be spending too much time with my uncle.” Daenerys had to agree Aegon was showing Viserys’ arrogance and that horrible smirk in the skull room.

     “Too much time with Viserys and the King.” Elia said softly.

     “Maybe if I had known Father, I would be more like him.” There was real sadness and regret in Aegon’s voice and Daenerys understood his feelings. She also wished the brother she’d grown-up with was not Viserys. Everyone extolled Rhaegar’s virtues but he was only a mythic figure to Aegon and herself, having never known him. If Rhaegar had lived would Viserys be such a cruel man? If Rhaegar was king would the Stark bastard be in a Black Cell – to which he had apparently been returned?

     “What would life be like if Jaime Lannister had succeed killing Father, but Lord Baratheon failed to kill Rhaegar?” Daenerys gave voice to her ponderings. Her nephew and niece looked at her taken aback by her words.

     “Very different.” Elia whispered as she gazed at her children.

     “Would Jon Snow still be living in a dungeon?” This she really wished would be changed.

     “No.” Elia said as she honed her gaze in on her son. “He also would not be Jon Snow, he would have the name his mother and father gave him. Though I think he would still be the fine boy he is now. Even for all Aerys tortures. That boy would shine in the sunlight, I did not realise how much like his father he was until I saw him. He was probably a little copy of him, curls and all.” She smiled warmly. “I wonder if they will disappear as his hair grows as … his did?”

     “Jon Snow isn’t his name?” Rhaenys spoke for the first time. “What name did his parents give him?” Elia’s face showed a realisation that she had been lost in her revelry and had said too much putting herself in a difficult position, she shook her head. “Mother what do you know of this boy?” Rhaenys was a couple of years older than Aegon and Daenerys and was treated more like an adult than them and now she was enacting her senior position. What the older members of the family would not say to ‘the children’ no longer applied to Rhaenys.

     “I cannot say dear one. It is not my place, but what I will say is this: That boy should never have been secreted away. He should have been raised with his family, people that loved him, he suffered more loss before he was a month old than any other person in this castle. He deserved a better life, he deserved to be loved.”

     “Who is he?” Rhaenys pressed.

     “He is his father’s most treasured son. He is his mother’s greatest joy. He is the perfect symbol of their love and believe me it was the greatest of loves. I witnessed it.” Elia refused to speak on the subject any longer and nothing moved her to words. Though the ones she had spoken had ignited a fire of curiosity in the three Targaryens.

     A couple of weeks passed with no new discoveries about Jon Snow, sometimes the others would sneak away to investigate him, mainly by watching him and trying to eavesdrop on his conversations with the three kingsguards that constantly watched him but all they discovered was he had no idea of himself and was nowhere as curious about himself as they were; and he had an extraordinary light to his soul as he remained determined to not sink despair. Though he was prone to solemnity, he was a serious soul. Though Daenerys already knew most of this from her solo excursions to see him earlier. Sir Dayne seemed to be his favourite ‘keeper’ as he called them. No more did they find him in the cell, but always playing a harp for Belarion.

     As time passed Daenerys had less opportunity to ‘speak’ to Jon and she found her life had lost some of its shine without him. She knew not why, for she was not old enough to imagine it could have been love. She kept her knowledge of him secret so none other could enlighten her to her malaise. She could always listen to him as he played for the Dragon skull, but with his removal from the cell her opportunity to steal moments of closeness also passed. She missed being close and to hear him, talking to her.

     Jon had not seen the Girl of Honey and Roses since his injuries, she must have left the Keep or now he was not easily discoverable, she could not find him, he still caught her scent on the air and smiled to smell it, but she never came to speak to him again. He worried the scent was only a ghost from his memory. He may no longer live in a cell, he had a small plain and barren room now, For the king would only allow the queen that much, and the room usually changed location at irregular intervals. He always wore a chain, but as much as he liked this marginally better life, he would give it up for another conversation with the mystery girl.

Chapter Text

     Then came a great commotion in the throne room one day as Sir Dayne was heard screaming in anger. The entire Targaryen family and all the kingsguard rushed to the sound of his raised voice. Was the king in danger? The visage that met them was worse than they anticipated. Five guardsmen held the white cloak as he strained to escape them trying to get to Jon Snow, standing in the centre of the room, with a Targaryen guardsmen on each side of him, and another holding his right arm out from his body. A cloaked pyromancer held a canister above his outstretched hand. The king cackled madly.

     “Let us see how strong you are.” Aerys spoke down to the lad.

     “You are insane! You cannot do this!” Dayne was slowly dragging the five men closer to the prone Jon. The king leaned in towards the shackled and restrained Jon.

     “Do you know what today is?” He paused a moment. “It is your namesday.” He cackled again. “I have a very special gift for you. I am going to save your head from being taken as a traitor’s by taking your sword hand, so you can never raise a sword against me.”

     Jon looked angry. “Why would I ever … How would I? I live in a hole, I have no family or allies. I am isolated! How would I even get a sword?!"

     Aerys started rambling to himself. “Oh, you could raise an army. You would take my throne, take my crown. A sword? Where would you get a sword? From the thousands that would take my crown and set it on your head. Oh, they would follow. Yes, they would march from all the kingdoms. March on my keep, to overthrow me. They would march by the thousands, yes they would throw me down and raise you up…” Jon’s face was a ‘canvas’ of disbelief, his eyes wide and his left eyebrow raised, he was incredulous. But the Mad King continued his ranting, not loud but quiet in an almost whisper. “They wait even now to betray me, My lords of my kingdoms. Lannister was my closest friend, my most trusted and he would have sacrificed me at Duskendale to crown Rhaegar. Rhaegar, ‘A better king’, oh he may have been, he may have been, but they killed him, my Lords. You killed him.” He stared at Jon with piercing gaze, and then looked away back to his madness. “It was because of you, all for you, if not for you my son would be alive. But no. No, you had to be. You had to be, so he could not. Even now one of my kingsguard fights to save you so you can kill me. It is not even just him, they would all kill me to crown you. I know what they think behind their helms and under their white cloaks, I know. If I take your hand you will never raise an army against me; you won’t steal my crown. I will take the hand and take your power.” Aerys at this point seemed to disappear and was replaced by a deeper more ominoius voice. “I am a Dragon, I will watch the world burn and you, you will not save it. Hmm. Yes. I will burn it all and you will be forced to watch it all turn to ash. I will destroy it all before you can re-take it. That is what I will do.” Aerys voice returned for his words to trail off into mutterings. All within the throne room were struck in silent shock at the king’s descent into complete insanity.

     In a strong and steady voice, the dark-haired boy spoke. “You are wrong Dragon. I will not raise an army. I do not want your ugly throne or your equally ugly crown. I will go north, to The Wall, say the words and never have influence in your Realm. Just stop this madness.”

     Aerys' head snapped up to stare at the boy. “You may not want it boy, but they will take it from me for you. Do you think The Wall would stop them? No, even on The Wall you are a danger to me, they will rally to you against me. They would find a way even from that wall. If they even let you arrive there. No, I will not stock The Wall with Usurpers, frozen in time to come back and steal what is mine. Pour the Wildfire!” The pyromancer upended the jar over Jon’s hand, he grimaced as the green liquid oozed through his fingers and over his wrist. He did not cry out or make any sound except the hiss of a breath taken between clenched teeth. Sir Dayne surged forward dragging the five guards with him; Sir Hightower took an unconscious step forward and Sir Whent’s hand went to his sword.

     Daenerys held her breath, she was surprised to hear her brother chuckle, she turned to see a broad smile of delight on his face. That was the moment she stopped loving her brother at all. Then a shiver went down everyone’s spines as a howl raised on the air, it echoed from every corner of the Keep, an eerie and terrifying sound. Daenerys thought, Ghost knows Jon is in danger if only he could get free.

     “Aegon.” The king called her nephew forward, he reluctantly left his mother’s side and approached his grandfather. “As you are known to be Rhaegar’s first born son and heir,” Aerys looked at Elia for a long moment before continuing “You should inherit the Iron Throne. You will be the one to save it. Take the torch and light the Wildfire.”

     Aegon looked sickened for a moment but recovered his composure. He looked to his mother, and then back to his grandfather. “This is your victory grandfather, for your throne, your crown. It would be wrong for me to do this, the honour…” Aegon almost choked on the word, “the honour should be yours.” With that Aegon put a few steps distance between himself and the torch.

     “I will do it father!” Viserys called with vigour.

     “No, my son, your nephew is right I shall do it.” He took the torch and took a step towards Jon, who was barely keeping his emotions in check. As he took another step forward, he stopped. “Wait! Not that hand! The other hand, it must be the left hand.”

     “That is not even my … dominant hand.” Jon shook his head in bewilderment.

     “Pour it again and I will light it.” Aerys commanded the pyromancer. He got another canister and poured it over Jon’s left hand this time.

     “No, you will not!” Queen Rhaella swept into the room. “I am done with this Aerys! Today is the end. Today your gift to Jon is to take him out of that cell and chains forever! Send him away across the Narrow Sea if that is what will quell your fears, but you will not burn him, else you will burn us all. I will not have you bring a curse down on our House!” She stared at her husband with a ferocity he had never seen.

     The fire of her wrath snapped him back into some semblance of sanity. He looked at the prisoner and then the torch in his hand and then at his wife and he relented. “I will not burn him if that is your wish sweet sister-queen. I will send him across the Narrow Sea, where he will make what he can of himself.” The King smiled – a true smile – but Daenerys still worried what it meant for Jon. “Take the young man to a ship now! He must not be seen, you’ll need a large crate, he can be released once the ship is out to sea. As he will no longer be my prisoner, he will no longer need guards. I will even forgive Sir Dayne for his outburst earlier.” The guards led Jon out of the throne room, he looked unsure of this new event, this possibility of freedom.

     Daenerys wondered about Ghost suddenly. If they were taking Jon now, then he would be going without the Direwolf. She was saddened to think of them separated, she was saddened to think she would never see Jon again or hear him play the harp. Her heart rejoiced however to think of him free to finally see what the sky looked like.

     “Wash those hands.” The Queen commanded as the guards disappeared through the door with Jon.

     “Is he aboard?” Aerys asked staring out to sea.

     “Aboard, sailing to Essos.”

     "Good. Make sure he gets there.” Aerys turned. “If you will excuse me, I have in-laws to welcome. Oh, dear how sad House Martell missed all the fun.” Aerys turned to gaze at the ship once more. Hoping it had sailed quick enough. “Oh, send someone to close that Cell and keep it safe for his return.”

     “You think to re-imprison him if he ever returns?”

     “No, but none are worthy to sleep where he slept. Rhaella will need a place to visit his spectre, all who loved him will. Also, I cannot have a Direwolf running around loose.” Aerys stared where is last grandson had gone, hoping the boy was strong enough.  Good luck, Aegon.

Chapter Text

     The king stared down the length of his throne room from his seat atop his great throne. The white wood of the throne contrast with the black volcanic glass of the wall, crawling up it like a crack splitting the world. The king as always was enraged, he had been enraged for decades.

     Two women attended him, perhaps the only ones who could weather his wrath. The exceptionally tall, black-haired woman with soft silk robes that hid her hard demeanour and cold attitude, skin tinged for desert climes. The fiery redhead with eyes like wildfire and a hooded look, sure to carry a blade for your heart under her soft cotton wraps, with skin of a light green hue.

     “Where is Duncan?” The king asked with an inferno behind his tone.

     “On a ship headed for Essos.” The desert featured woman spoke with little emotion. The king’s blue eyes snapped up to stare at the woman. Always before the answer had been that ‘we are unaware of the prince’s whereabouts’.

     “Essos?” The king asked, not sure if he should feel hope.

     “The Mad One has released or revealed him. As he is mad, we are unsure which he thinks he has done.” She shrugged, who truly knew with Aerys Targaryen.

     “I have already sent the Lion to him.” The fire-haired woman spoke. “I will follow soon.”

     “What are you waiting for?” The king was confounded, they had waited decades for a chance to regain what was stolen. They had waited fifteen years for Aerys to disclose what he had done with the child, where he had hidden him.

     “Information.” Her green eyes burned.

     “What information?”

     “Whether this boy Aerys has hidden could truly be who we hope he is.”

     “You do not think he is Duncan?” He had to be, this was why Aerion had endured so long in his wrath.

     “They call him Jon.” The Chancellor said.

     “I don’t care if they call him bloody Bob! Get him here!” The redhead bowed and left the room. The Chancellor sighed; these people really needed to take a longer view of things.

     The king rose and walked the length of his throne room, and out onto the terrace, he looked into the great chasm below. This boy had to be who he hoped. Aerion would burn the Seven kingdoms to ash for what Jaeherys and Aerys Targaryen had taken from him. “Be ready Hellion, your next king will be coming home finally.” He felt the heat wave rise. If anyone tried to stop them, Hellion would block out the sun.

Chapter Text

     That was that, Jon was gone. Daenerys found life was less light, she found very little joy in it at all. It became noticeable to all that there was something hurting within the princess, many worried for her.

     “Your highness.” Sir Arthur bowed his head as they passed and suddenly found himself followed by the girl. He looked at her curiously. “May I help you?”

     “May I help you, Sir Dayne?” She asked him.

     “How do you believe you can?”

     “Sir Dayne I have noticed you walk the boy’s Direwolf.” She took a breath. “I wish to help the poor creature.”

     “They are dangerous creatures.” Arthur inhaled through his nose, and the princess wondered if he was calming his mind as he then smiled widely.

     “My father was very cruel to that boy; this is my way of making it up to the Gods.” Of course, it wasn’t it was her way of clinging to something of Jon Snow, she found everyday harder to bear as her heart ached for his absence.

     So, she contented herself with helping Sir Dayne to care for Ghost, she would accompany them on walks around the Dragon skulls. Sir Dayne was not taking Jon’s absence any better than Daenerys or Ghost, the knight had loved his charge, he had become like a son to him – as much as a prisoner could – and now he was gone. Ghost refused to eat to begin with and even now he was less than he had been with his master, it was like part of the beast had been torn away.

     It had been six months and the realm carried on. King Aerys seemed more stable and had even started arranging marriages for the young Targaryens. Viserys was to marry Elia’s niece Ardiane, the first-born daughter of Prince Doran of Dorne, he was of mixed feelings on it. On one hand she was a beautiful girl, on the other he always thought Daenerys as his sister would be his wife – as with their parents and grandparents – Daenerys was relieved it was not to be.

     Rhaenys was currently stuck marrying Lord Tyrion Lannister the Dwarf – Elia was very unhappy with the match but Aerys would not be moved and would just ask why she had a problem with her daughter marrying into such a prominent family, it always silenced her and made Aerys extremely happy.. Rhaenys said she would have preferred someone taller, but politics said Casterly Rock had to be brought into line. Once she met him, she found herself liking his wit and intelligence, and could easily ignore his ‘outside ugliness’ and physical ‘shortcomings’. Even despite the age difference.

     The only real issue Daenerys had was her marriage. She supposed she had hoped for a more exciting marriage, she did not delve into how she wished for a dark-haired husband. Her father had decided to marry her to Aegon, he had announced it to a full court.

     “My daughter, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, will marry Aegon Targaryen, to be the Sixth of his Name. Crown Prince Rhaegar’s son and heir.” Daenerys liked Aegon but he was sometimes so easily lead. Aegon was a follower and not really a leader, he could play a good leader, but he wasn’t naturally one. She did like him, was very fond of him but she could never see herself having any real passion for him. She was also worried for his nature of mirroring her father and brother when not held in check, even to their rage at rare times. In a month she would be fifteen and then the arrangements would start in earnest. Her wedding was set for her sixteenth nameday, she dreaded the day.

     “For my beloved sister.” Aerys handed a note sealed in a strange wax to Varys. “Ensure she gets it.”

     “Where your grace shall I say I got it?”

     “From a damned raven! No, from a ship that has just docked from Essos.” Aerys said as he released the message into Varys’ hand. “Ensure she reads it with haste.”

     “If you do not mind your grace, why are we doing it this way? Surely it would be easier to just tell your queen these messages.” Varys did not always understand the king. He worried for him, but the man had stopped burning people and if the extent of his madness was to play silly games with his queen and family, who was Varys to stop him.

     “I do mind! Do not question your king! Give the queen the message!” Aerys was not one to be questioned. The damned eunuch was his vassal not the other way around. Aerys was tired of all these traitors, he was waiting for the day, this was Aegon’s problem to fix not his. Aegon could deal with all these annoying people.

     A couple of weeks before her nameday Daenerys’ mother packed Daenerys up and took her on a sojourn, so she could see the world before becoming Aegon’s bride and eventual queen, to experience the world before settling into producing heirs. Aerys had heartily agreed, Aegon also seemed relieved, maybe he was almost as averse to the marriage.

     In truth Aegon was ambivalent, Daenerys was beautiful who wouldn’t want her as their wife? He however knew she would never be an adoring wife to him, and he thought he might like that, but was prepared to just get that from a mistress – he already had a lady or two who adored him just fine. He had been jealous of the boy in the cell, but ultimately Daenerys would be his wife and even if she wasn’t happy, well he had others happy to do her part. She was only required to be his wife, she didn’t have to like it.

     Elia was a curiosity; she didn’t seem happy with either of her children’s matches. She was against marrying House Lannister and Aerys would just ask her why, knowing she couldn’t answer, lest she reveal herself. She hated he found such joy in her unease. Worse it was starting to get Cersei looking at her, if Cersei found out Elia’s secrets, she was finished, and her children would not be safe. Some days she hated Oberyn and his brilliant ideas, they were all coming back to haunt her.

     Elia had little she could do. She did have one thing though. She sent a message to Essos and a man loyal to Rhaegar: Jon Connington. It was time he brought Aegon home, so her real son could take his place now this Blackfyre had done his job and saved her son from being killed. She was saddened though because she did love her false Aegon, she had raised him as if her own since Oberyn had taken her real son away to keep him safe from House Lannister and everyone who hated House Targaryen. She hoped Oberyn would not take him away, she hoped she could have them both.

     Elia also hoped her real Aegon would look like Rhaegar as Jon did. People had started to note how Crown Prince Aegon did not look like any of other the Targaryens, other than in colouring, by some miracle Rhaenys even looked more Targaryen than him in her features. Truth was she was lucky Rhaenys had taken after her in colouring. Though sometimes in the right light her eyes shone a deep green. Elia missed green eyes.

     Elia asked a thousand questions of Queen Rhaella about her itinerary, so she could have Jon Connington, find a way to introduce and align Daenerys and the boy he called Young Griff, her Aegon. If Daenerys fell and married ‘Young Griff’ in Essos, then Oberyn would be pleased, as would Doran. Maybe they would finally let her be at peace, when their ambitions were sated.

     Aerys was concerned for his wife and daughter’s safety and insisted they take a Kingsguard each.

     “Sir Arthur Dayne you shall protect my daughter and Sir Barristan Selmy will protect my queen.” Aerys looked happy then he looked at his good-daughter. “Elia Martell, you should be protected as the Mother of the Crowned Prince.” That was left of base and everyone seemed confused by his decision. “As House Dayne is sworn to House Martell, Sir Gerold Dayne, the knight known as Darkstar, shall protect you.” He smiled at her in a fashion she did not like and did not understand. Elia knew this was a prick at her but could not understand why.

     “I would be honoured.” Sir Gerold said taking a step forward. He looked hard at the king and smiled. “I will protect Princess Elia as if she were my own mother, not even you will be allowed to harm her.” His smile was bright and friendly his eyes were hard as gemstones.

     Aerys looked at the young man, he looked older than he was in truth. As he saw the hardness to his eye, Aerys worried he had mis-stepped, maybe he should not have done that. “Good. I would expect nothing else from you Lord Dayne.”

     “So, you shouldn’t King Aerys.” As he smiled, Aerys thought, these boys are too rebellious, how did they get so? Damn his lords for murdering Rhaegar, all this would be simpler and more peaceful if Rhaegar was here to keep everything.

     Still, Aerys maybe had done enough so that strong Dragons were imminent, and he could be finished. Perhaps soon peace would come to the tempest his madness thrust on the realm, he just had to be patient a little longer and the next generation could fix all his mistakes.

Chapter Text

     Daenerys was excited to see Essos, its exotic cities and strange people. A small part of her dreamed she would unexpectedly run into a young man with dark curls, brown eyes and handsome features. A big part of that small part dreamed he would look upon her for the first time without her disguises and fall desperately in love with her whisking her off to … anywhere, to never return to Westeros and Aegon’s arm.

     Once they got there though she was disappointed as her mother seemed to be on a mission, the trip was some ruse to fulfil her agenda. After a quick stop in Pentos, they quickly headed for Slaver’s Bay and the rainbowed city of Meereen.

     Once in Meereen, Daenerys and her mother went almost immediately to the Fighting Pits for which the city was famous. As they awaited with their two kingsguards – Sir Arthur Dayne and Sir Barristan Selmy – for the first challengers to enter, Daenerys’ curiosity got the better of her and she had to ask her mother.

     “Mother what are we doing here surrounded by slaves and their masters, about to watch blood sport? This would not be my guess for how you would spend your afternoon and honestly I am not comfortable being here watching slaves kill each other.”

     Rhaella turned to consider her daughter. “Daenerys, you are fifteen and soon in a year sixteen, married and in all ways considered a woman grown.” She stopped, considering again. “So, I will tell you why we are here in this awful place. People are deceptive and your father lied to us.”

     “About what mother? How does Father lying, have us in this arena watching blood sport?”

     “About the boy, Jon.” Rhaella had Daenerys’ full attention.

     Jon. Her dream of meeting him could be coming true.

     “He did send Jon across the Narrow Sea as promised, but the ‘what he can make of himself’ is far different to what we thought. He was released from the crate once they were at sail, and he is no longer a prisoner. The difference is your father has sold Jon into slavery, into the fighting pits here in Meereen. That Daenerys is why we are watching blood sport, hoping to catch a glimpse of him alive.” Her mother said with sorrow, at the thought of what Jon had endured now.

     Daenerys was stunned to think all this time she had imagined fanciful possibilities of what Jon was doing with his freedom, he’d been fighting for his life. Her heart burned with anger, scorching away any love or respect she had held for her father.

     How could he? 

     “I do not know if we will even glimpse him today, but my informants say he survives.”

     As it was they watched many men kill each other to the joy of the crowds, and sights that would haunt their sleep that night but none of them was Jon. Daenerys was glad she didn’t have to watch him fight but also saddened that she didn’t see him. He was in this city and she didn’t know how to find him. When he was her father’s prisoner, she could always try to catch a vision of him when his ‘keepers’ took him for ‘walks’ or sneak down to his cell. Here, in this slave city he could be anywhere, she may never find him or see him before he died in the pit. Her dreams were haunted by that day after her father had punished Jon for fifteen years since the Trident, the body covered in blood lying in her mother’s arms, and dark eyes closing forever.

     Her ill-ease was not helped by the city and its inhabitants. The slavery was sickening, the barbaric practice had been outlawed long ago in Westeros. The Essoi spoke of their culture surpassing rustic – backward – Westeros, yet still they had slaves and Westeros had outgrown the use of them. She watched from her cushioned palanquin, the slaves as they toiled, she was revolted to think she was carried by slaves, so often stopped and allowed them rest, she guessed they must wonder what she was doing.

     It took her mother’s informants two days to identify Jon’s ‘master’. Luckily every Masters’ family found the idea of hosting Westerosi royalty irresistible. So once the master was known suddenly the family became the centre of the Queen’s attention and time, they lapped up the prestige of her favour by the bucket fulls. They invited the Targaryen ladies to their private box at the pits. Daenerys for her part befriended the First Daughter, a girl close to her own age. After a day or so the queen started softly interrogating the head of the household. She started with broad questions about his slaves in general, then about his fighters in the pits, until the conversation turned to a specific slave gladiator.

     “I hear Great Master that you have the honour of owning the finest young gladiator the pits have produced of late.” She asked as if it was a small thing to speak on.

     “The finest swordsman in my lifetime and my Father’s too.” The Great Master was in his fourth decade of life, he sounded awed. Jon was only approaching sixteen, that was unlikely.

     “That is what Grandfather says.” First Daughter whispered to Daenerys.

     The Queen smiled through the interruption. “I hear he is a young fighter from my own lands. However, did a young Westerosi fighter come to be a slave here in your fine House?” Her mother’s voice was silk as were her words.

     “Ah, my lady it is a fine tale. I am blessed to have the luck of owning the man. He is young maybe almost sixteen, but for his youth he is the best fighter I have. They say he was trained by your Westerosi knights.” The Great Master grinned with glee.

     The knights looked at each other. Barristan had seen the boy’s black head the day Arthur had raged and the lad was sent away. He wondered if Arthur had trained the strange boy, he seemed to have an affection for the lad.

     “Maybe by the Sword of the Morning himself, from what I hear tell of his skill.” The Queen laughed, Sir Dayne flicked his right hand over his left shoulder as if he was patting himself on the back, and Barristan grinned at Arthur’s uncustomary show of pride.

     “I would not doubt it my Lady, he is very good. And quick, he could catch a striking cobra with his bare hands. I have seen him, fight on one of those bars your knights use in their battles in your arenas without falling.”

     “I’m sorry what bars?” What was the slaver talking about?

     “The ones they ride their horses down and try to knock each other off with poles.”

     “Tourney bars?!” The Queen asked incredulously. “Surely you are mistaken, those bars are only 20 centimetres wide.”

     “Yes, that is them, sometimes we have them set up for our patrons to see foreign sport, needless to say in one scenario he showed this talent, it was incredible. He can swing his sword and spin in swordplay and never do his feet falter. I am truly blessed to own him.” The kingsguards exchanged glances of disbelief.

     “I didn’t teach him that.” Sir Dayne whispered.

     “You can’t even do that Arthur.” Sir Barristan smiled. It was all exaggeration the knights were sure. A experienced fighter should trump the boy easily.

     “He has fought in over a hundred battles and never lost. He has hardly even been harmed, a cut here and there but his opponents always are dead. Well dead if that is what the crowd wishes. The man has no bloodlust in him, he fights for the glory of my house but does not kill without being told to. My only sadness with him is he is defiant, and hard to influence. He will refuse to do something, no amount of whipping will change his mind. I fear I broke instead of him and do not insist he do anything he is averse to.” The Master pouted in his own failure.

     “The slave master broken by a slave.” Rhaella’s eyebrow arched.

     “Do not think me weak. The man earns me great mounds of gold. The people love him, both slaves and freemen. I can afford to let him have his principles, he repays me every time he steps onto the sands. People flock to the pits on the simple rumour that he may fight that day. On the days he is known to be fighting the arena is full and people must be turned away for safety.”

     “As if that weren’t enough to say my father is blessed.” The First Daughter spoke up excited grabbing Daenerys’ hand in exuberance. “He is very handsome as well. Women from all the Great Houses have offered us great amounts of gold.”

     “For what?” Asked Daenerys.

     “For him.” The girl looked at Daenerys as if surprised the silver girl did not understand. When Daenerys did not show understanding she smiled. “To be with him.” Her smile broadened as Daenerys’ eyes widened in understanding. “Father is letting them bid against each other. The first lady to have the honour will pay a great price, we could buy your castle with the amount the bidding is currently at.”

     “I am truly blessed.” The Master sighed happily.

     “Women are bidding to …” Daenerys couldn’t say it.

     “Be fucked by him.” The girl smiled broadly. Daenerys gasped. “I could take you down to see him if you like.”

     “He is in this pyramid?” Jon was that close? Daenerys wanted to fly to where he was.

     “Of course, he is worth too much to be kept anywhere else. What if he was damaged by a lesser slave or stolen by someone. We must keep him safe and close. If we are lucky, he will be playing an instrument, we have acquired many to keep him happy and it increases his value and the bidding if they see his other talents. A rarer treat would be if he sang.” Daenerys knew exactly what a treat it would be to hear Jon play or sing. She had to stop herself from jumping up and running to the door.

     “I suppose we could go if my mother approves.” Daenerys made herself sound unsure, even slightly bored.

     “Oh, please my lady, let me show your daughter our House’s great treasure.” The queen waved her hand in a gesture of ‘whatever’. “Princess, you will never forget this night. You may even make your mother place a bid for you.”

     “I doubt it.” Again, she sounded bored, while her mind raced with thoughts of seeing Jon. She grabbed a hooded cloak as she was dragged out of the room. Sir Barristan followed the girls, he kept up well without looking like he was rushing, because the girls were running ahead. Daenerys made it appear as if First Daughter was dragging her, but she could hardly wait to see him.

     The slave quarters they kept Jon in were far better than his black cell. They were well lit and clean still sparse on furnishing and a cage but a nice one. They were blessed by the light music of a harp coming from his cell.

     “Shall we go in? Don’t worry it is safe, he will not hurt us. He is actually quite a nice young man.” Daenerys shook her head. “Okay we can observe him without him seeing us if that makes you feel safer.” It wasn’t about safety.

     The First Daughter lead Daenerys around a pillar and into an observation booth, she pointed to the cell where the music was floating out of. Jon could not be seen from the booth, and the princess was disappointed but hid it well.

     “I don’t see anything First Daughter.”

     “Just wait. He has stopped playing, he may come out.”

     There was movement in the cell and a young Westerosi man came into view, dark wavy hair and a toned body clad in gladiatorial garb, his face was very handsome, but he was not Jon. Daenerys almost cried in anguish, it was the wrong man.

     “Oh, get out of the way you ugly pig.” First Daughter hissed. “Oh, Daenerys you are about to experience something visually spectacular.”

     “Do you have a contest tomorrow Dragonsword?” The man that was supposed to be Jon asked, moving to the left side of the cell revealing his cellmate. Daenerys’ heart almost leapt out of her chest as his black curled head raised to reveal his handsome face, more handsome than she remembered – she understood First Daughter’s uncomplimentary comparison somewhat. Although quite handsome the other man paled in comparison in some inexplicable way to Jon’s. Jon’s only response was a shrug.

     “Did I not tell you of his glory?” First Daughter whispered with a smile.

     “Why did the other one call him Dragonsword?”

     “He has a … brand on his right shoulder.” Daenerys tried to remember if she had seen such a brand, was it new? Was it her father’s doing? She had never seen Jon unclothed in anyway so he could have had it all the time. She would ask her mother. In truth the gladiatorial garb he wore was as unclothed as she had ever seen him. Though his garb did explain the adoration the ladies of Meereen had for him, the glimpse of well-muscled thighs under his leather skirts and the sleeveless tunic showed strong arms. Daenerys was sure they had improved in appearance with all the combat he engaged in, as she unconsciously checked his arms for any injury from the wildfire incident.

     “So, Dragon Princess, are you not glad I brought you down to see? Aren’t you wondering what it would be like to be held by those strong arms? Do not lie to me, you are starting to desire your mother to place a bid for you.”

     Daenerys had been wondering about Jon’s embrace for far longer than tonight, so First Daughter had achieved nothing. She hoped she hid her reaction to the boy well enough that neither First Daughter or Sir Barristan could discern them. She gazed at the boy, who was now a man far too young. She was sure his physique had changed considerably, but then for six months he had been fighting to survive. Even Viserys eight years her senior did not seem as masculine as The Black Cell Boy, Jon Snow. It was hard to imagine that Jon was only half a year older than her as he had the body more akin to the Kingsguard knights than any other male she knew. But unlike every other male she knew, she was transfixed by Jon and it was not just his appearance because she already knew his soul was just as handsome as his features.

     Daenerys would admit to herself she did desire her mother to place a bid on Jon but to free him, not bed him. Daenerys did not believe anyone’s love could be bought then she supposed none of the bidders First Daughter spoke of were interested in love, after all to them Jon was just a slave, not a person of concern and consideration like he was to her. If she was being truly truthful with herself, she did wish after her mother freed him, he would love her, and she could experience being held in his arms. They did look very strong and his torso looked very firm and… Daenerys stopped thinking about it then or her audience would be able to guess what she was thinking.

     “I would too, but as we own him, and it is more profitable to sell his embrace to another, I cannot.” First Daughter said sadly. “He is really a wonderful young man. Desirable in so many ways.” She leaned in to whisper so the knight could not hear.

     “Actually, I was wondering how good of a fighter he really was. Your father’s claims seem… exaggerated.” Daenerys did not need to think of how desirable she found Jon right now, or anywhere in company.

     “They are not! You will see tomorrow. I will have father have him fight tomorrow to have you see how magnificent he is.” Her companion pouted. She pulled Daenerys after her back around to the cells. Daenerys was glad she had grabbed and donned the hooded cloak, she couldn’t surprise Jon by just appearing and what if First Daughter said something about the bidding business and he thought she was involved? That she wished to be… by him? She did not want him to bed her, well she was not wishing anyone to bed her – not yet… maybe. First Daughter dragged her to the front of Jon’s cell, Sir Barristan stayed out of sight because there was no way to hide a white cloak.

     “Gladiator!” Jon looked up, a disinterested expression on his features. “Tomorrow’s competition will see you fight for the amusement of our Houses honoured foreign guests. Make us proud.” She commanded her slave.

     Swinging his head towards his companion, “Do you think she is screeching at you or me?”

     Daenerys almost feinted his voice was deeper than it had been a mere half a year ago and it was lovely to hear. Low and husky it made her warm inside. Maybe she would like her mother to…

     Stop it Daenerys! She reprimanded herself.

     “You! Why do you embarrass me in front of my guest? She will think you insolent and will not desire to see you succeed.” First Daughter stomped her foot, showing she was not that much older than Daenerys and could fall into tantrums too.

     “I don’t care.” He looked at the worried look of his companion “That succinctly answers those points.”

     First Daughter looked perplexed, Daenerys had to stifle a giggle at Jon’s insolence. “Succinctly means neatly or nicely or easily, just in case you didn’t understand the word First Daughter. I do apologise my lady I forgot, silly slave! Use little words for your masters.” Jon’s smile was that of a cheeky child, he obviously had kept his strange dark humour. Daenerys stretched up to whisper in First Daughter’s ear.

     “My guest wishes to know what you do care about then.” First Daughter asked. “She wants an honest answer.”

     “Why doesn’t your honoured guest ask herself?”

     Because then you will know who I am. 

     “Do not be insolent slave! Answer the question.” Daenerys asked another whispered question. “She also wishes to know your name.”

     “Why don’t you tell her First Daughter?” There was a challenge in his tone.

     “He is a slave princess he has no name. Now answer her question.”

     “Be honest,” He looked at Daenerys and addressed her. “I do have a name, First Daughter and Great Master Wazir have never bothered to ask for it.”

     “Why should we? You are a slave, our property.”

     “Oh, because it would be polite and respectful. Also, you could answer your honoured guest.” Daenerys again asked her questions of First Daughter.

     “You are a slave and you deserve only what we your masters decide. Now answer my guest’s questions.”

     “Which questions were they?”

     First Daughter was getting frustrated. “What do you care about? Your name.”

     “Well I don’t know your guest well enough to tell her such things.” With that he turned away and picked up his harp and started to pluck at the strings humming with the music he was playing.

     “It does not matter how well you know her, answer.”

     “It does to me.” He said to the air not the girls.

     “Pretend she is someone you know well enough to tell then.” Jon smiled a wicked smile.

     “Oh, so I am to be freed and married to this guest of yours?” Daenerys gasped. First Daughter even gasped. Jon chuckled and so did Barristan as quietly as he could.

     The lad is a quick mind. Barristan understood how he could have survived so long.

     “No!”

     “I mean it is a bit sudden, I am not even totally grown, and she looks pretty small herself, is she even old enough to wed?” Jon looked up at the cloaked girl, and gave her an appraising sweep of his dark beautiful eyes.

     “I said no! You are a slave, she is royalty!”

     “I was not the one saying we should wed, you said I should imagine her close enough to me for me to tell her what I care about, well I would confide to my wife, but not a stranger. Royalty or not.”

     First Daughter groaned in frustration at him and led Daenerys away. Daenerys thought it a brilliant idea, she would marry Jon if it saw him free, then they could annul… no they could just stay married for a while.

     After the two young women had left, Jon set down the harp and stared at one of the walls of his cell. He took a deep breath.

     “You have no fear do you Dragonsword, provoking First Daughter so in front of her guest. What were you thinking?”

     Jon was only half listening, as he inhaled deeply. His face was a mixture of thoughtfulness and perplexion. Finally, he replied.

     “Do you smell honey and roses?” He could swear he had caught the light scent of them. It was confounding, usually the scent only came to him in his dreams. Ghost, Dayne and that scent, the things he missed, and it wasn’t always in that order.

     “What? You are full of crazy words tonight.” Taine shook his head at Jon.

     “Also, Taine could we skip the Dragonsword crap, it is Jon.”

     “Except when the Masters are around to learn it right? You are crazy Jon.”

     Jon however was no longer in his cell in Meereen, he was in his homeland, or what he had known of it. He was contemplating the answers to the questions the guest girl had asked. What did he really care about?

     Nothing. He told himself, caring about something hurt and you always lost it. He knew however that was a lie, not the losing the losing always happened but about what he cared about – he did care about some things.

     Ghost. His Direwolf all alone in Westeros, if he was even still alive. Had Aerys found him? No, Jon knew Ghost was alive, he felt it. Sir Dayne was probably keeping him well. However, he knew Ghost would be suffering their separation as he was.

     Sir Arthur, Oswell and Gerold. The Kingsguardmen who had kept him for all those years, especially Sir Arthur Dayne. He cared about them, they had watched him and cared for him as much as they were allowed; more when they could.

     The Queen. Rhaella Targaryen, she had always been kind to him. He didn’t love her, he was sure, or was he? No, he wasn’t sure because other than Ghost he’d never been allowed to truly experience love, so how could he know what it felt like. Or maybe he had, distant and reserved due to circumstance. He remembered the day – foggily – of the 15 + 15 + 15 punishments, and the gentle way the Queen had cleaned his wounds and kissed his head and strangest of all wept for his pain. Did the Queen love him for some reason or was she just sympathising with a fellow victim of her husband’s madness? He did miss her gentle smiles when she saw him, as if somehow he brought her joy.

     Strangely he found he cared for one other thing, something he found almost insane to care about, a scent. That scent earlier, had he actually smelt it or was it his mind playing a jest on him? The scent of honey and roses, and the sweet voice that belonged to the scent. He had never seen the girl’s face, as it should be. She was a highborn lady, he was a prisoner. Some days he wished he had seen her face, he was confident that it would have been as beautiful as her voice and her scent but what would he know of beauty? Only since being a slave had he really seen women or girls and sometimes far more than he had wished to. So, he thought about his answers.

     My name is Jon Snow, or least to my knowledge it is. I care about only four things: my Direwolf; my Keepers; my Queen and my… My Lady of Honey and Roses. With that he turned over,  Wait and my Dragon, please forgive me Belarion, I cared about you too. Then he tried to sleep, to prepare for his contest in the new day. Sleep he did, dreaming of snow, ice, Ghost and most of all, honey and roses.

     First Daughter had ranted about Jon’s insolence, her embarrassment and how she should have him flogged for insulting Daenerys all the way back to the main living area. Daenerys quickly dismissed the need for punishment, to which First Daughter laughed saying of course he wouldn’t be flogged he was too valuable to damage, she did note a previous master must have disagreed though – the princess’ memory burned with the incident of disagreement.

     “How was your visit Daughter? Does the Queen need to negotiate with me for her daughter? Princess was he desirable?”

     “Daenerys? Do I need to negotiate?” The Queen thought how overwhelmed her daughter must be with all this, the girls of Meereen grew up much faster than those in Westeros. First Daughter had probably already lain with a pleasure slave and Daenerys had never even held a boy’s hand affectionately.

     “No, Mother.”

     “You did not like him?” Great Master Wazir was surprised.

     “He was insolent father.” First Daughter frowned.

     “That is a problem. Did you think him pleasing to the eye if not to the ear?”

     “He was pleasing enough to the eye and the ear, but I am betrothed.” Daenerys said looking at the floor. A fact she hated even more now she had seen and heard Jon.

     “Still you could go to your wedding bed with experience.” Master Wazir said. “For a sum.” Daenerys’ head snapped up and she looked stunned by the idea.

     “Such is not done in our realm. A girl goes to her wedding bed a maid and it is in her wedding bed she loses her maidenhead.” The Queen explained.

     “Daenerys fears we have exaggerated his skill so I told him he would fight tomorrow.”

     “He will not.” Wazir said calmly.

     “Why Father?”

     “Because we need more time for rumour to circulate that he is about to step on the sands, and to devise a spectacular combat to show his talents to our guests.”

     “Spectacular is not required.” The Queen worried the Great Master may go too far and Jon may be endangered because of it.

     “Unfortunately, Queen Rhaella spectacular is all he does, he is not capable of mediocre.”

     “Well?” The king asked of his advisor.

     “The Lion has arrived in the Rainbowed City, soon he will make contact with the Prince.” She held the Pigeon that brought the news. “Kasmira is not far behind.”

     “Soon, Duncan will be home.” A smile came to his face.

     “Yes.” She turned to leave the king on his throne. As she exited the door, she turned to look back at the door. “We will not be calling him that. Lyanna Stark would never have named him that.”

     “Well?” The king asked his advisor.

     “The Queen and Princess have arrived in Meereen, they have made contact with the Boy’s owner.”

     “Has he harmed the boy?’

     “Not to our knowledge.”

     “Make it ‘to your knowledge’! I will not abide him being harmed! Go!” Varys did not understand his king, he coveted this boy, yet he was the one who had tortured him the most. Varys was the Master of Whispers, but this whisper could not be found by his little birds, those that may have discovered it disappeared, so Varys no longer sent them to find it.

Chapter Text

     Daenerys was excited to talk to her mother when they finally retired from their hosts. The Kingsguards removed themselves to guard the doors of their suite, Daenerys almost leapt into her mother’s lap as she tried to get close to her. “Oh, Mother it is true, Jon Snow is in the bowels of this pyramid. He looks healthy and strong, they really have been looking after him.”

     “As a piece of valuable property.” The queen was no longer holding up her gentile façade. Her disgust was evident in her tone. But then she looked at her daughter, noting the bright wide eyes and the joy evident on her beautiful features, the queen did not remember Daenerys ever smiling so widely. Queen Rhaella smiled at the effect seeing Jon had had on Daenerys. It was as if without knowing it Daenerys had been living her life asleep, but now the sight of him had woken her to life. Rhaella realised that maybe her daughter had been falling in love with the Boy in The Black Cell and that Aegon would never have Daenerys’ heart because as her brother Rhaegar before her Daenerys was drawn to the ice that complimented her fire.

     “I am gladdened that he is well. Did you speak to him?” Her voice was softer.

     “He spoke to me, but I didn’t want him to recognise me in case it put your plans or him in danger. He is still as irreverent as ever. He was playing a harp when we entered, his skill is as good as ever. It was excellent to see him alive and …” Daenerys was breathing heavily from her excitement and had to stop to catch her breath.

     “Daenerys.” Her mother gazed at her suspiciously. “How many times did you meet Jon in the Red Keep?” Obviously more than Rhaella knew of.

     Daenerys went silent and held her breath, had she just expressed too much about her thoughts of Jon, was her mother angry or disappointed with her interest in him? “Uumm.”

     “I am not angry dear one, only curious. You should not be this breathless about a boy – young man now – you have only seen two or three times. So how and when did you see him outside the times I know about?”

     Daenerys could not lie to her mother and told her everything. How Viserys had dared her and the others, how curious she was about Jon’s background; her theories on his origins, everything. Even the strange effect he had on her, the warmth he elicited in her with just his words.

     The Queen smiled. “You have quite a crush my daughter,” Daenerys blushed brightly, “and quite a fertile imagination. I will tell you that you are correct that the blood of the North and the Starks flow in his veins, but he is not the son of Lord Stark. He is in absolutely no way however related to Robert Baratheon. I cannot and will not tell you his true parentage, but I will say we cannot allow him to remain in slavery.”

     “How are we going to change that mother? He will fight soon enough, he could die.” Daenerys’ eyes started to well with tears.

     “He survived this long on his skill, I am sure he will survive a few more days.” Rhaella hugged her daughter. “How we are going to change that is simple. We are going to buy him.”

     “Buy him?” Daenerys blinked in shock, slavery was outlawed in Westeros the mere idea was appalling.

     “Yes, I have already spoken to Great Master Wazir about fees.”

     “Fees? Mother you heard First Daughter the fee to …” Daenerys could not finish the sentence.

     “Be bedded by.” Her mother provided.

     “Yes, are probably enough to buy the Red Keep. How do you propose we afford outright ownership?”

     “Do not concern yourself with that now. I have only spoken to him of fees not full purchase.” Daenerys’ eyes went wide, and her cheeks brighten with blood as she realised what fees her mother had been discussing and what it meant for her. “I said if he was to your liking after your visit I would negotiate further in the morning.” Daenerys sat dumbfounded on her couch. Was her mother serious? “Then after his combat I’ll change my mind and say I’ll buy him outright for you. Daenerys you seem very quiet my child. Oh, you need not worry the negotiations will not stall on the first part. Now go to bed. May your dreams be sweet.”

     Daenerys rose to comply then stopped as she thought to ask her mother a question. “Mother did Father brand Jon?”

     “What?” The Queen wonder where that question came from.

     “Jon’s cellmate called him Dragonsword. I thought it strange and asked First Daughter, she said he had a brand on his right shoulder. Did Father do that to Jon too?” Daenerys felt her anger rising at the thought.

     “No, it is a birthmark according to Sir Arthur.” Rhaella relieved her worry. “Arthur said at his birth it did indeed look like it had just been burned into his skin, but it was always there.”

     “How would Arthur Dayne know if it was always there?”

     “I suppose he saw it when he delivered Jon.” The queen replied casually and then she looked quickly at her daughter, but Daenerys had already masked her surprise and her thoughts in the moment it took for their eyes to meet.

     “I am glad it is not another torture Father did to him.” She shrugged as if that had been the only information she had absorbed. It wasn’t though, now she knew Arthur knew very well who Jon’s mother was at least and Arthur had been present at Jon’s birth, which was intriguing. Why would a Kingsguard be at the birth of a child, and where was he born that Arthur delivered him? Why were there no physicians or Maesters?

     Daenerys’ dreams were something, she was sure sweet wasn’t the word. She dreamed of men fighting for their lives; for the amusement of the crowds, Jon fighting to amuse the crowds. Then suddenly her dream self was in her apartments and Jon was dragged in for her amusement in chains as she rose to approach him to ‘amuse herself’ he was dragged out and burned alive in front of her to her father’s cackling; Viserys’ smirk; her mother’s weeping and Ghost’s lonely howls. She screamed as his skin turned red, bubbled and then went black in the flames, and a strange silver man rushed into the flames to try to pull Jon out. She woke sweating and screaming, Sir Arthur was there in a second and her mother not far behind.

     “He was burning.” Was all Daenerys repeated crying. It took her mother an hour to calm her down. As she drifted back to sleep Sir Dayne told the Queen he would watch over her.

     Daenerys woke to find a tired Sir Dayne still standing watch over her. She thanked him adding an apology for making him keep watch. He smiled at her.

     “You are not the first child I have had to watch over when plagued by nightmarish visions of people burning.” Daenerys realised here in front of her was probably the best authority on Jon Snow in all the world. If anyone was to know about him it would be his most regular guard. Could she let this opportunity pass?

     “Sir Dayne do you know who Jon Snow’s parents are?” Ask the big questions so the others seem less so and maybe he will be more likely to answer the others.

     “Yes, princess I do.” He did not elaborate, and his voice was flat and emotionless.

     “Elia says they loved each other greatly and that they would have loved Jon just as greatly.” Daenerys paraphrased hoping it would elicit a better reply.

     “She is kind to say so. I believe she is correct.” Nothing.

     “Mother says he has the blood of the Kings of Winter, is a Northerner of House Stark but not the Lord of Winterfell’s. Is he Lord Starks’s nephew?”

     “He is born for Winter and ice does flow through his veins.” Nothing new.

     “Is he a Stark?” Daenerys decided direct was better.

     “We are all half something princess. Except some Targaryens like yourself.”

     “Alright, so obviously no one is going to give me a straight answer about Jon’s parents.” Sir Dayne smiled at her realisation. “Can you at least tell me if he is trueborn or baseborn?” The knight shook his head. “Father called him ‘Snow’ which says he is a bastard, but Elia says that is not his name. Jon is an enigma.” She sighed, then looked at Arthur Dayne and asked a question she knew he would not answer. “What name did his mother give him?”

     “Jon.”

     “But Elia said.” Elia inferred he had another name. “Did she lie?”

     “Although deception is a way of thinking for the House of Martell these days, she did not lie. This time.”

     “You just said… Sir Dayne you are being contrary.”

     “That is not all she named him, but Jon is indeed one of his names.”

     “What are the others?”

     “I cannot say.”

     “Would it be so very telling to hear his other names?”

     “It would tell you everything, they are very enlightening. And it is too dangerous for them to be known.”

     “It is dangerous to know Jon’s name and origins?”

     “For him very, the fewer who know the less people that will follow your father’s lead of harming him.” She definitely did not wish Jon to be harmed, so she let that slide.

     “So, if you will not speak of his heritage, how did he get Ghost?”

     “A gift.” Sir Dayne was obviously measuring his responses.

     “From whom? Who knew a boy locked in a Black Cell existed? He said he took his first steps in there.” She looked quickly at the knight after revealing she must have spoken to Jon; all she saw was a slight smile and a raised right eyebrow. At least, he did not yell at her for going down to see Jon and speaking to him.

     “Those with an interest.” Arthur found it amusing to think all these people with interest in the boy were paled by the Princess’ obvious concern.

     Who would have suspected? The Boy and Daenerys. 

     “Curse you Sir Dayne! You’re the one who probably taught him to be an enigma.” She huffed, the knight just shrugged. “Alright. How about you just tell me something, anything about him; since my father wants him weakened and my mother wants to buy him.”

     Sir Dayne’s eyes sparkled with mirth, he leaned in very close to the princess’ ear and spoke low so no eavesdropper could hear. “His favourite scent was you.” Daenerys gasped. Sir Dayne leaned back and stood straight. “He did not know you were Princess Daenerys, but he knew you. How did he put it? Oh yes.” He breathed. “He knew you ‘had an exquisite scent that surely the Old Gods themselves must have fashioned’. Then something about only the Goddesses could come close to equalling it.” The princess blushed and the knight chuckled. “He could be quite a romantic boy when he was not brooding. Would you like to know anything else?” She shook her head unable to speak though she wanted to know much more she worried she couldn’t handle any more if it was anything like that knowledge.

     “How did you know he was talking about me? It could have been anyone.” She asked when she finally got her voice back.

     “Princess Rhaenys and yourself were the only young females that could walk freely enough in the Red Keep to even get near him. And Rhaenys was a little too old for the girl he described, and he described you well considering he must have never seen your face or hair. I will say he swore me to secrecy as he didn’t want King Aerys harming you.”

     “Still that does not mean it was me.”

     “The ‘Girl of Honey and Roses’, I had to swear to secrecy before he even mentioned he’d been visited by anyone. You wanted to help care for Ghost.”

     “I could just be kind.”

     “You are princess, but you did not jump back when you saw Ghost that day in the cell, meaning you have met him before and you are the only person his did not test for scent, meaning he knew you too.”

     Daenerys laughed, “So the Boy from the Black Cell was concerned for the Girl of Honey and Roses. How silly that sounds, the long-winded descriptions instead of our actual names.”

     “If your brother Rhaegar were alive he would write a song of it.”

     “Elia says if Rhaegar was alive Jon wouldn’t have been in a Black Cell. Rhaegar wouldn’t have put the boy in a cell if he were king instead of Father. Would Rhaegar have shown more mercy to Jon and his family, Sir Dayne.”

     Sir Dayne’s features showed great sadness at her inquiry. A despair that was evident in his voice when he answered. “If Rhaegar was alive… If he was alive, we would not be in Meereen now; you would not be betrothed to Aegon ; and Jon, well Jon would be probably sitting under a Heart-tree with Ghost’s head on his lap and a smile on his face.”

     “Rhaegar would forgive whatever crime Jon’s family perpetrated against the crown?”

     Sir Dayne sounded angry, not at her but at the idea. “There was never a crime princess. Your father is a monster, a mad paranoid monster.”

     “Then why do you serve him Sir Dayne?”

     “I do not. I serve Rhaegar, he made me vow him an oath and I serve that oath. I will serve your brother and keep my promise to him until my death.”

     “What promise did you make my brother?” Her voice was soft.

     “I cannot answer that princess, but maybe one day it will be evident, but not this day.”

     “Alright Sir Dayne. I think I am brave enough for more information you will tell me about my Boy in a Black cell.”

     “Your boy?” Sir Dayne raised an eyebrow.

     “In that song Rhaegar would write. I did not mean Jon was mine.” Though she did think of him as hers, wished he was.

     Arthur Dayne laughed. “Well at least until your mother sells the Red Keep and buys the lad, then maybe he will be your namesday gift.” He was jesting with her but a small part of her disappeared into the idea of Jon being hers, not as a slave of course, but Sir Dayne had also said if Rhaegar was alive she would not be betrothed to Aegon.

     What if she lived in a world where the Boy in the Black Cell was free and a good king at on the Iron Throne; a world where maybe she and Jon could meet as equals. Well of course not equals she would still be a princess and he was not a prince, but he maybe a son of a great House. Would Rhaegar have let Jon – if he was highborn – court her? What would Jon be like if he grew up free? Would she ever have met him? So many possibilities but none of them actually possible. Life was as it was; Jon wasn’t free, and she was going to marry Aegon.

     “You look darkened Princess.” Arthur saw something had cast her into shadow, he knew it was not thoughts of Jon, because as they had spoken, the Princess had grown brighter with each passing moment.

     “I do not wish to be Aegon’s bride.”

     “Why?” Though he could guess.

     “He doesn’t make me happy.” She knew it was selfish, but she wanted to be happy. Would she be happy to be Aegon’s bride if Viserys hadn’t dared them into the bowels of the Keep? Daenerys’ imaginings were interrupted when her mother entered the room with First Daughter in tow.

     “Daenerys was plagued by nightmares last night, she has just awoken.” Her mother explained. “Perhaps another day.”

     “No, it must be today.”

     “What must be today?” Daenerys asked.

     “I have a morning adventure for us, Princess.”

     “I do not think I can this morning First Daughter.” She really did not feel up to it.

     “And we are going to the markets mid-morn on a shopping excursion, in search of a dress for this spectacular event your father plans.” Her mother explained. Daenerys was not aware of that, but she nodded.

     “This will not make you late and I promise you will like the adventure, it will be visually spectacular.” First Daughter said the final two words very slowly, then Daenerys realised by her tone, she meant it would include seeing Jon.

     “If it won’t see me late.” Daenerys turned to her mother. “I would like to see what First Daughter thinks would be so wonderous. It might be distracting from my terrors.” Arthur smiled at the princess as he guessed the reason for the change, he did a hand movement around his head and Daenerys grabbed a silk scarf to hide herself. Her mother seemed clueless.

     House Wazir had a small practise arena for their slaves to hone their skills. First Daughter had a vantage to watch the practice from, on a higher level, so they could be away from the blood, because they were still vicious fights. Each fighter was given a sparring partner.

     Jon’s was a large man with a shaved head and a mighty looking beard with bells in it, copper skinned and black haired. His weapon was a curved almost semi-circular blade.

     “He is Dothraki. They wear their hair in braids.” First Daughter explained to Daenerys’ confusion. “They cut the braids when they are defeated. He loses to The Champion a lot. So, he shaves his head.”

     “First Daughter, I find it strange one so young is considered so proficient at battle, he has according to your own story, had less than a year’s experience. How can he be Champion?” She found it very strange as he had lived most of his life in a cell.

     “He is unbelievably talented with a sword. It is like he enters a trance in combat. It is divine to watch.” First Daughter explained.

     Daenerys was not watching the sparring for the combat or the blood, she watched it for the Boy from the Black Cell. She had never truly found a use for boys and the fascination other girls had for them flexing their talents. Jon Snow however was different, as he ducked and weaved the princess was spellbound. Not by his martial prowess but by him. Simply him.

     She had missed him every day since his father had falsely released him. His voice, his beautiful dark intelligent eyes. Sir Arthur said she was his favourite scent. Well, if she were honest, she had been pretty partial to his too. A smoky wood smell and something else, something he should not smell of, leather.

     She watched him transfixed now, as his muscle slid beneath his skin and the sweat that beaded on his brow at his exertions. Daenerys did not know why he had such a profound effect on her, but he was the only boy that did. All her mother had to do was say his name and Daenerys would have followed her anywhere.

     At the end of his spar Daenerys watched as he poured a jug of water over his head and traced the rivulets as they flowed down him. Her breathing was accelerated she was sure she was as hot as him, having only watched the bout he participated in. She blushed as she noticed First Daughter smiling at her.

     “Quite fine.” The girl smirked. “Do not be ashamed he is a fine boy to get hot about.”

     First Daughter did not say anything else as she walked Daenerys back to the guest apartments she shared with her mother. Though as she left, the girl told Queen Rhaella that their activity as quite vigorous and Daenerys might need a bath to wash off all the wetness of her ‘sweating’.

     Her mother had eyed her strangely. Told her she did look flushed and she should have a quick wash off to tidy herself up as they would be in the heat and best to start off as clean and fresh as possible. Daenerys was sure First Daughter had been sending her a message with the last words but she did not understand it.

     They spent hours in the Markets, shopping for fabrics, dresses and jewellery. Daenerys did not see the point, she was betrothed, her mother married and all this was extravagance they couldn’t afford, not if her mother wished to purchase a very expensive slave. She heard the whispers that ‘The Champion was fighting in a few days’, everyone seemed excited. Maybe Jon just had that effect on everyone.

     Daenerys could not help herself she found herself imagining what could happen after her mother purchased Jon and freed him. He was thankful and gracious in his appreciation. He usually stepped forward in her daydreams to tell her he loved her and wanted her to stay in Essos with him.

     Many, well all her dreams ended in him kissing her, held tightly in his strong arms, crushed to his … she usually had to stop there, because she had no experience and she got every hot and nervous. Had the kingsguard and her mother asking if she were alright.

     No. No, I am not. I am dreaming of things I want to damn well occur, so I know how they feel! Daenerys was angry at herself for having all these thoughts of infidelity, she should be loyal to Aegon, but she just really couldn’t look at Jon and even remember Aegon existed.

     If her dreams weren’t stressful enough, First Daughter came every morning to take her to see the practise sparring, so she was reminded every day of what she was dreaming of was real and only metres away.

     “Mother you told The Great Master the first day you would discuss fees, but you also told him I will go to my Wedding bed a virgin so how…?” She knew by side whispers there were other things to be thought of when it came to boys and girls. Maybe her mother could explain some of these things.

     “Oh Sweetling, firstly from an old woman to a girl there are many pleasures a man can bestow on a woman that will not take her maidenhead. Secondly, I could be talking about bringing you back after you are wed.”

     “After. Mother that is a year away.”

     “Yes, but if I bid high enough, he may be forced to wait that long for the payment.”

     “But why would we return for that after, I will be Aegon’s wife and I…”

     “Do you think all Wazir’s bidders are unwed? Married women are bidding I can reassure you.”

     “Why? They are married.” Not every one of those women could have a loveless marriage as she was bound to have.

     “Sweet girl you are young but simply, not all men are created equal.”

     “Mother!” Daenerys did not wish to discuss Aegon’s endowments, whatever they were.

     “I mean in skill and care. Though in that way too. Some men are rough, and some so self-centred in the wedding bed that you feel discarded when they are finished. Some men make you feel like a goddess with just a touch.”

     “Oh.” She did not understand, but some deep inner part of her was listening.

     “Aegon I have a feeling will not … maybe disappointing. So, a good mother would be mindful of that.” Rhaella was sure Aegon was skilled. Apparently, he had been testing those, not that she would endanger her grandson by informing her husband. She thought however as skilled as he was, he would not please her daughter, because she also felt skill was not what Daenerys would desire in marriage.

     “But you don’t know that.”

     “No, I don’t but that is what I told the Great Master. That I wish you to have one brilliant experience, and your betrothed is not likely to be it.”

     “That is not nice Mother.” Rhaenys had inferred Aegon was proficient. How had Rhaenys known that? Then Viserys words came to her. She shuddered as she thought the pieces equalled incest. Rhaenys and Aegon. She shuddered again. Her reaction had her mother gazing at her.

     “Answer me this Daenerys, well answer yourself this: If you imagined your wedding night and bed, who’s face would you like hovering above you?”

     “Mother…” She sounded shocked, she was concerned because her answer was not Aegon now she actually thought about it. If she imagined a face hovering… Oh dear.

     “Mine is not your father’s. I only had one blessed moment of love,” She looked on her daughters shocked expression. “How I know one does not need lose their maidenhead to be pleasured by a man. I went to my wedding bed pure and have regretted it every day because your father.” The Queen stopped and stared into the distance. Daenerys felt she did not really wish to know about her father’s intimate performance. “Daenerys, I think your father was no happier about us marrying than I, he never has done anything with passion. His madness stems I think from us being forced to marry.”

     “Really?”

     “Your father was a fine prince and knight once Daenerys, how else could he have raised Rhaegar to be so great, but he slowly slipped every day as we endeavoured to do our duty. I didn’t help.”

     “Mother?”

     “I hated it. I loved another and that ate at your father. I cried all the time and we were once so close as children, we used to share from the same plate at mealtimes, but now we can barely stand to be in the same building. I miss my brother, even if I hate my husband. I really miss my brother, I loved him so much.” The Queen began to weep for her loss.

     When Daenerys went to her bed that night, she dreamed of her wedding night and it was not Aegon’s face hovering before hers. The eyes were dark and intelligent and the smile luminous. There was one errant black curl in front of his eyes she just inched to push aside, and his closeness was soothing and made her feel safe.

     Now if only she knew those things a man could do her dream would have been perfect.

Chapter Text

     This was it the day Daenerys would be seeing Jon, hopefully not die. She dreamed he would look up into his Master’s box and fall instantly in love with her, like in the songs. Finally, there would be no hoods or cloaks or wraps between them. She was nervous, because in King’s Landing he had never seen any girl, but in Meereen he would have seen many and probably in many forms of undress.

     What would Jon think of her? They said she was beautiful, but that was in Westeros. They said she was beautiful here too, but would Jon agree. She did not know why she cared what he thought of how she presented. She did though and desperately.

     She had styled her hair a thousand times to only brush it our and try again, for something better. Something sweet and demure but powerful, girlish but mature and sophisticated. Up and down and in between. Curled as it did or straight as she could. Decorated and plain. She hated them all, because she thought Jon would find her preening silly, but she could not leave her hair out now, it just looked frizzy from all her attempts. She wanted to cry.

     She also looked through all the jewellery her mother had brought with them and had purchased recently in the Essosi markets. Looking for anything that would make her look spectacular, she felt as if she was just making herself gawdy. She did not like any of her dresses either.

     Arthur watched his princess with a smile as she rushed about and twisted this thing, this way or that. As she huffed and sighed not happy with the visage she saw in the mirror. All for a boy who wouldn’t care or probably note all these things she was fussing over. Jon was already enraptured by her heart and mind, her face was nothing more than an outward version of her inner beauty and Jon would see her deep glory.

     “Sir Arthur?”

     “My princess?” He pulled it together and quelled his smile to wear a serious expression as if he had not spent hours watching her preen and flit around.

     “What do you think looks more princessly?” She held up two different hair decorations. Arthur gazed at each item seriously.

     “Are we trying to impress someone in particular?” He did not look at the girl as she blushed. “You know if I were a princess trying to impress a certain boy I know well.” He paused. “I would choose…” She held her breath for his answer. “… this one.” The knight touched the top of her head. “I think he would like it the best.”

     Daenerys turned bright red. “Sir Arthur.” She sighed.

     “I do not know that is how I would incorporate your house colours.” He grinned at her, she just went a deeper shade of red. “You need nothing, princess. The lad has spent all of his life in cells, he will be impressed if you don’t have a beard.”

     Daenerys could not look at the man teasing her. She looked away and headed off with an arm full of devices that he just told her would not help. She was just trying to make the best first impression she could. It wasn’t funny.

     So, when she was alone in her part of the room she gazed out the window at the sky and imagined that moment when she first could look upon the Black Cell Boy without disguises and shadows. When they could just be in each other’s presence.

     He was wearing a dark armour of some type and she was wearing a flowing light blue and gold silk dress. His curls falling around his face and he was reaching his hand forward as he told her she had the most pretty face he had ever seen. He brushed a silver tress out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. His fingers skated along her jaw and made her shiver. She was sure his touch would do that because Lady Margery Tyrell said something like that happened with some young lord she knew. And this was Jon, not some silly lords.

     Daenerys’ imaginings were interrupted when her mother entered carrying a lovely new dress for her. It was not the deep blue of her dream. She frowned to think already her dream meeting was being changed. Jon was not going to even want to stroke her face as in her dream, he would probably just shrug at her.

     “It is time to get up and dress my sweet. Our contest may not be until later but we must attend all the horrid preliminary fights. I have bought you a new dress, we must look stunning for when we are introduced to The Champion of Meereen at the end of the contests.”

     “The Champion?” That was a huge presumption that Jon would be named Meereen’s Champion. He was only The Champion of House Wazir.

     “Why Jon of course.” Her mother had no doubt. Daenerys wanted to believe he was the best, but feared he would be hurt.

     “Of course.” Daenerys wished she had her Mother’s confidence, she had a pit in her stomach worrying that Jon would die in the contest today. Though she did make a decision about her preparations for the day; she was not going to smell like honey and roses today, she did not want Jon to recognise her as the princess watching him battle. She wanted to be The Girl of Honey and Roses when Jon was safe and free. So, she allowed the slaves of the house to add their own fragrances to her bath and perfume. She found she smelled of spices and jasmine.

     Her new dress was a light aqua blue, shimmering flowing creation, the material so light it floated around her ankles lifting with any breeze. Gold jewellery was added to hold it at the shoulders, wrists and waist. Rhaella even added a delicate golden tiara to the top of her immaculately braided silver hair. The Kingsguards both gasped at the sight of their princess, she was more than splendid she was spectacular.

     “I believe dear knights that my daughter will distract everyone from the combatants in the pit. And hopefully enough to off-balance our host so he slips up and I negotiate a much lower price.” They agreed their princess was definitely distracting.

     Daenerys travelled with First Daughter as Queen Rhaella travelled with Master Wazir. She was so nervous she said nothing just looked out the curtains keeping her eyes on the walls of the Pit. She counted each step the slaves that carried them took, ever closer to seeing Jon. She knew she should not be so excited to see a baseborn boy, but she could not help it.

     Every man and woman they encountered on the way to the pits seemed mesmerised by her beauty. Rhaella took advantage of this as the Master’s palanquins carried them to the arena, speaking of a meeting for her daughter and boy should he survive. She said it would be a true gift for him to spend time in her presence. He agreed, if he won the boy deserved to see such a girl in person.

     “Great Master, my daughter was moved by your fighter and has asked I speak to you about her meeting the man in private after the contest today, should he survive.”

     “I am not surprised. However, you know there is a bidding war for the service you ask for your divinely beautiful daughter.”

     “Oh no. My daughter is a princess betrothed as we have already said. We do not wish that service! Only a meeting, talk that is all or maybe to have him play his harp for her. She was touched by his skill. Her elder brother played, and she has missed him terribly since his passing in combat. Anyway a slave touching my beautiful daughter? Unthinkable!”

     “I apologise dear lady, I assumed from our other discussions… He will win and he will play for your daughter, no charge. Payment is allowing Meereen to experience the princess’ beauty.” The queen smiled.

     “Now we never did get to how you came to own such a specimen of swordsmanship. However were you so blessed?”

     “As I said it is a fine tale.” He grinned at his own self-importance. “I was in Pentos visiting a magister there I know, he had come into possession of the boy – for when I first saw him he was a naïve of the world teen.”

     “How did he come to the boy?”

     “A man, quite important in your own lands wished to free himself of a troublesome prisoner and sent him – the boy – across the Narrow Sea to get rid of him. I do not know why he was imprisoned but he was ‘given’ to this Pentoshi Cheesemonger friend of mine as a slave, a hard labour slave. Of course, one look at the boy and it was evident he would be wasted at hard labour. My friend did think to sell him to someone in Lys, the lad is very comely, and Lys is famous for its pleasure slaves.” The Queen looked appalled. “Rich ugly people deserve to be able to buy someone pretty to make them feel better Queen Rhaella. However, fate interceded. A Dothraki horde who was staying outside the city and their Khal was known to my friend – most are. There was a little incident, no one knows how the boy angered the Khal, but I would guess it was his insolence or defiant attitude. In any event we – my friend and myself – watched as the unarmed boy disarmed one of his Dothraki assailants of his arkh and proceeded to defeat the three blood riders around him. The Khal joined the fray and the boy almost fell but as the Khal took first blood the boy spun under his sword came up behind him and brought his sword hilt into the back of the Khal’s skull, knocking him down. Another Khal, Khal Drogo offered to buy the boy who defeated his rival, but I offered my cheesemonger friend more money, for my fighting pit gladiator.”

     “That is a fine story indeed.”

     “I admit I was deceptive with my fellow masters in his first couple of fights.” He smiled broadly at the queen’s curious look. “I said he was ‘untested’, a boy destined for the Pleasure Houses of Lys – which he was – but a severe beating had marked him too much, so I had to take him for the pits, but a pleasure slave as a gladiator.” He raised his hands and wore a mock resigned look.

     “A severe beating.” The queen breathed, depressed about the beating.

     “You have not seen the boy, but in truth it would not have lower the price they could charge for him at the Pleasure Houses but,” The Master looked thoughtful. “I believe the Lord spoke to me telling me to bring him here.”

     “The Lord?”

     “The Lord of Light. Most of the Bay worships the old Ghis Gods, the Harpy. I worship another.”

     “R’hollor.”

     “No. I suppose the westerners – which includes the free cities – believe that misconception, but in the east we know R’hollor is associated with The Lord of Light but he is not the Lord himself. The Lord of Light wanted the lad here and he told me his name.”

     “His name?”

     “Yes. It is not what the crowds call him or what he calls himself.”

     “Really?” The Queen felt concerned, had her ploy been destroyed?

     “It was not my place to inform him though.” The Great Master smiled again. “They – my fellow Masters - bet heavily against him of course for ‘household pride’ I had to bet for him, he quadrupled my fortune in three bouts and unfortunately no one with any sense will bet against him anymore but he is still very comely and now he will increase my fortune through his appeal to the women of Slavers Bay. For they come from Astapor, Yunkai, even Lys and Volantis to Meereen to watch my fighter and once they see him in the arena they want him in their bed chambers.” Great Master Wazir couldn’t stop grinning at his good fortune.

     “You are a lucky man.”

     “Indeed I am. I mean even a Westerosi queen has shown an interest in my fighter. Admit it my fighter and his growing legend is why you came to Meereen.”

     “Indeed, he was.” The Master smiled smugly. The queen did not however look caught out. “But not for his fighting prowess. For the stories they tell of his appearance.”

     Master Wazir almost jumped I delight. “I knew you were trying to deceive me as to your interest in him.”

     Queen Rhaella’s reply was drowned out by the cheers of the crowd as they arrived at the arena. For the mob knew if the entire Household of Wazir had come to the arena, it meant the House’s Champion would be fighting. The family and their honoured guests were quickly ushered to their box. The boxes were all occupied, and the cheaper seats were packed too and probably passed capacity as every inch of possible seating had been taken. The slaves were even sitting on the stairs.

     “This is how I make my fortune now, how my Sword and Dragon of Winter makes my fortune for me. I get a tidy sum of gate fees for just letting him step on the sand.”

     The Queen’s head snapped around to stare at the Great Master. “What? Why did you call him that?” Her voice was urgent and demanding.

     “I meant no offense my lady, I know in your lands your family has the monopoly on Valaryian blood and you are the Dragons of Westeros but the other slaves call him Dragonsword but the arena needs a name with more panache.”

     “It was not about offense to House Targaryen, Master Wazir, it is just a strange name to call a slave and I was surprised and curious to its origin.” Daenerys wasn’t sure what her mother was up to but she sounded as if she was nervous and slightly frightened but trying badly to hide it.

     “He bears a brand is all.”

     “A brand?” The queen seemed to relax. “Just a brand … not a birthmark that looks terribly similar to a brand?”

     “My lady?” The Great Master was confused by her question.

     “It may not be as we feared my queen. It could just be a brand. It may not be him.” Sir Dayne leaned in to comfort the queen with his words. Sir Barristan shifted on his feet uneasy and his face betrayed concern. Daenerys was obviously in the dark to what the ruse was so stayed still and quiet.

     “Yes Arthur. It is just a brand.” She paused nervously. “Just a brand, not a birthmark. I mean it probably isn’t even on his right shoulder.”

     “Right shoulder?” Master Wazir asked. The brand upon The Champion was upon his right shoulder.

     “What is the possibility that it looks like the dragon is sitting a ball of ice with the sword across it.” Sir Arthur said to his queen as if to calm her agitation. As the one most versant with the birthmark he described it.

     The Master and First Daughter’s eyes opened wide, for that is exactly what it looked like – it even bore colours on extremely hot days as he whirled in combat. “Why? Lady Rhaella what would such a birthmark mean?” The Master sounded slightly afraid of the answer as he swallowed hard.

     “Oh nothing,” another dramatic pause. “Just death and destruction of your House, if he was actually the missing boy.” Daenerys knew of course this was some great ruse her mother was enacting to lower Jon’s price, but she couldn’t help getting caught up in it.

     “Mother no!” A terrified look on her beautiful features.

     “Most likely not my darling. If only you had knowledge of his face you would be able to tell us right now after having seen the fighter, the other night.” And the other few times First Daughter had snuck her away to gaze upon The Champion.

     “Oh, but Sir Barristan did you not catch a glimpse of him?” Daenerys worried she may have overstepped with that question, but old Barristan only slowly shook his head disappointedly. “Oh, of course you did not go with First Daughter and I. If only I had informed, you of the brand First Daughter told me about.” Barristan hung his head as if he had done a great wrong.

     “Still daughter, no need to worry our hosts, I’m sure it is not him. If his father even suspected his son was a fighting slave, he would scorch all of Slavers Bay.”

     “Or freeze it.” Sir Dayne added solemnly. It was not a father they must fear.

     “Oh, the Ice Dragons.” Sir Barristan shivered, “I have heard the tales of the blacken faces of the frozen men.”

     The great gong reverberated to signal the start of the games, but Master Wazir’s box was absolutely silent.

     The crowds were more mesmerised by the foreign princess and her beauty than the combatants in the pit for the most part. The princess sat at the front of the box, feigning absolute interest in the combats and she endured hours of men killing and maiming each other and various beasts. She was glad although their box had an excellent - too good in Daenerys’ opinion – view of the events it was sheltered enough to avoid any actual ‘spray’ of gore. Something that could not be said of other seats, though the occupants of those seats seemed to revel in the splash of human gore, roaring with every slash.

     There was little time to converse for the remainder of the events as even in the spaces between contests, the box had constant visitors, wishing to meet the beautiful foreign princess. Daenerys endured all the attention, because she was not here to be beautiful for these people, she was here to be beautiful for one boy she had not spoken to in too long.

     The word of the princess’ beauty even made it into the fighter’s pits and cells. There was a buzz about how the most beautiful girl in the world sat in the stands and her mother was searching for a slave to please her before she wed a foreign prince.

     “Have you heard Dragonsword, a beauty from far off lands watches the games in our Master’s box?” The young Westerosi fighter’s voice was full of enthusiasm to be out in the arena, as he always was. Eager to fight; eager to kill; eager for glory.

     “Probably that mute girl from the other night.” The dark champion did not sound interested in pretty princesses, mainly because he wasn’t. Ladies were distractions and he hated being distracted when he was fighting for his life. He did not plan to die on the sands, or even in Meereen. He wanted to die free with Ghost beside him, hopefully protecting his home.

     “They are saying her beauty is beyond compare, that it cannot even be put into words.” Taine said with excitement.

     “Oh what tripe! There are always words to describe everything, it’s just a case of being educated well enough to know the word you want or need.” He found it irritating that he was better educated than his fellows – not surprised but irritated – their overseers and even most of the Great Masters he’d had the misfortune to talk to. Shockingly he actually missed the insane rants of the Mad King, at least they were the words of an educated, thinking man. He laughed at the thought of him missing the man who had tortured him for sixteen years because he found ignorance more torturous.

     “You’ll see when you take the sands. Lucky me, I get to impress her first. She will be so impressed with me she will beg to buy me to keep her bed warm.” Taine winked at Jon. “She will dream of me this night.” With that he picked up his helmet and mace and followed the overseer out of the pit into the arena.

     “May your blood bless the sands, my friend.” Jon watched with a feeling of dust and ash in his stomach; he feared he would not see his cellmate again. His great regret would be a fellow Westerosi lost to the arena, the only one left.

     The overseer returned and threw a set of armour at his feet. “What is this?”

     “Your armour for your combat.” Jon gave the ugly overweight scarred man a confused look. “Your combat will be themed. The Great Masters wish to honour some foreigner by giving them a re-enactment of a Westerosi battle. This is your costume.”

     “Am I playing the victor or the defeated?”

     “I believe your character died in the real battle, but you can choose to change that outcome.”

     Why would I choose to die? These people are idiots! 

     The man walked away leaving Jon with his armour. “I will get the sword ready.”

     “I get to start with a sword?” He rarely started with a weapon, the crowds preferred he stole it from an opponent.

     “No, but I have to set it up as it is a special one and no stealing it this time, you just need to get to it. Oh, and you get a horse.”

     “I am either extremely blessed or this is going to be a terrible combat.” As the overseer left laughing at the Champion’s dark humour Jon picked up the leather armour. It was fashioned to look like the breastplate of the plate mail armour of a Westerosi knight. Jon shuddered internally; plate mail never meant good things if you were not trained to wear it. As he looked at the black suit of armour his heart sank, he recognised not just the emblem on the front but the battle they were re-enacting and who he must be portraying. The conflict was the bane of his existence: The Battle of the Trident. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he would be playing the part of the Targaryen Crown Prince, Rhaegar.

     “Bloody Hell!” Jon swore throwing the armour against the far wall. “You know I don’t look anything like this man!?” He knew no one cared or was probably listening. He walked over and picked the leather up, wondering what day it was and remembering those terrible words: ‘Do you know what day it is?’

     “What day is it?” Surely it couldn’t be the anniversary of the Trident, no it was too soon. What if time had escaped him? What if the Mad King was in Meereen? The foreigner and the beautiful foreign princess, could it be King Aerys and his daughter Princess Daenerys?

     Jon had never actually met her as she was always standing behind someone, but she was supposed to be a beautiful girl. Was it that day and the king had set up the perfect punishment for his lost victim, to die as the man the king blamed Jon for being the cause of his death. It was sick enough to be one of the king’s amusements.

     “No, I have never bent to his amusements and I won’t start today. Prince Rhaegar will not only survive this Battle of the Trident, he will be victorious!” He donned the leather armour glad it only looked like plate, he knew he would be defeated if he’d had to bear the weight of real metal armour, he relied on his speed and dexterity on the sands.

     The Dark Champion of House Wazir walked to his gate and waited for his cue. The overseer thrust a helm at him, a gaudy thing with three dragon heads atop it, he threw it back at the man. Let them see no silver haired prince today. He wondered if the real prince’s helm had been similar, because its restricted view would have contributed to his defeat by detracting from his combat abilities. No vision, no chance.

     They brought forward a barded stallion. Jon looked at the animal with admiration – it was tall and midnight black, someone had paid a fortune for this horse. Jon could find no fault in him. Until he got to his eyes.

     “I will keep you alive.” Jon whispered to the beast, its eyes were almost as red as Ghost’s, it made it look fearsome as if this was the closest thing to a dragon this world could provide. Jon smiled, rubbed its head. “I have missed you, Belarion.” It was a strange thing to say but the stallion reacted to it with a toss of its head and pawing the ground with its front hooves.

     Citizens of the Great City of Meereen, much blood has soaked the sands this day and the Gods of the Arena now bless us for our sacrifices. Today in honour of our foreign guests, the lovely princess who has blessed us with the vision of her form and face we present the last contest. This contest will be a re-enactment of a Westerosi Battle, with Meereen’s own great dark Champion, The Sword and Dragon of Winter as the Dragon Prince will battle the Crowned Stag of the Storms and the Direwolf of the North. May the greatest man win.

     Rhaella and Daenerys exchanged concerned looks at the announcement, their kingsguards moved nervously. Rhaella did not wish to remember this battle, let alone see it. She calmed her thudding heart, she could not lose Jon as she had Rhaegar. Her first Dragon, Taken too soon from her and the world, so in her anger she released her own Dragon.

     “What are they talking about?” The Queen demanded.

     “To honour you and your house we have arranged the last combat to tell the tale of your House’s latest victory. The Battle of the Trident.” The Great Master Wazir said proudly.

     “The Trident was no victory for our House! My son was slain there! Sir Barristan was badly wounded, many of our men died, it was one of our greatest defeats!” The Queen was extremely angry, and the Great Master realised the insult he had ignorantly done to his guests. Looking at the Queen’s rage filled eyes he knew this insult would not easily be forgiven.

     Rhaella stood to leave, she could barely control her anger. She would have grabbed her daughter and left immediately abandoning all the intense work she had put into her ruse to haggle the Great Master down on Jon’s price. Then the trumpets blared and as she turned to address her daughter and guards, the gates opposite the box opened.

     Queen Rhaella was transfixed by the sight of a young man in leather armour fashioned to replicate Rhaegar’s plate walked onto the sands, leading a great black stallion barded in Targaryen colours. He wore no helm revealing his dark curls, and slightly bearded face. From his shoulders flowed a heavy cloak black with the red three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. The crowd leapt to its feet and roared at the sight of their Champion, the slaves started the chant: “Dragon, Dragon, Dragon.” And the rest of the crowd took it up until it sounded like a thunderstorm.

     Daenerys turned to see the Boy from the Black Cell and realised suddenly gazing upon him dressed as he was, that Jon Snow was definitely no longer a boy and he didn’t look like a slave either.

     The queen could not control her emotions as she sank into her seat. The White Cloaks simply stared. There with different colouring stood their prince. Rhaegar with dark hair, but none could deny it was Rhaegar reborn. As Daenerys was the only one who did not know Rhaegar she was the only one not turned to stone by the sight.

     “Perhaps Queen Rhaella if my Champion changes the outcome you will forgive me.”

     “Oh, by the Gods! He is his son.” Breathed Sir Barristan, Daenerys thought he was very good to return to the ruse, but upon looking into his face she felt that Sir Barristan was not referring to the ruse at all. She turned back to watch as the opponents entered the arena on their own mounts, neither as fine as the black. Quickly stealing a glance at Sir Barristan, she wondered who he saw as he stared at Jon.

     His opponents were also clad in leather designed to emulate plate. The biggest, wildest looking one had a great antlered helm and bore a warhammer, he wore a yellow tabard with a crowned stag emblazoned upon it. Daenerys shook her head as she noted although yes, the stag was crowned as the sigil of House Baratheon, it wore it’s crown in the wrong place. He rode a big brown stallion that looked as brutish as its rider. Daenerys worried what this bruiser would do to Jon, who looked small in comparison. The second man was smaller, wore a dirty grey tabard with a dog that Daenerys guessed was supposed to be the Direwolf of House Stark. His horse was less impressive and his weapon a sword, Daenerys had seen drawings of the Great Sword ‘Ice’ and that thing in the man’s hands was an insult.

     It was then Daenerys realised Jon had no weapon or shield. How was he supposed to fight? The crowd continued to chant, they did not seem concerned by the lack of weaponry of the Champion and strangely neither did he. Another dozen men entered the arena to make the ‘Usurper’s Army’, Jon was terribly outnumbered.

     One man entered on a white steed of good quality barded in white, he also did not wear a helm, which allowed his golden hair to flow around his shoulders. It seemed this white clad knight – who was actually wearing plate mail armour - was to be on Jon’s side but it was just the two of them against thirteen or so. Jon walked his horse to the centre of the arena and looked up at the box of Great Master Wazir and at her. This is why she had endured all the gory visions of the previous bouts, so she could see Jon clearly when he entered. He seemed to look surprised as he noted the silver-haired princess and then her mother – who he of course recognised – then the two kingsguards.

     “Who is the White Cloak?” Sir Dayne asked of the Great Master. As he was privy to how Jon appeared he recovered from the visage of the boy – and the reborn prince – quicker.

     “That is the noble Sir Barristan Selmy, The Bold.” First Daughter explained. “He is the only one in metal armour because he is a mercenary who volunteered to fight beside our Champion.”

     “You have never looked so handsome, greybeard.” Sir Arthur couldn’t seem to help himself. Barristan just groaned at him.

     “Lady Rhaella, I fear to ask but earlier you spoke to my father of a missing son. You and your guards have seen our Champion now, tell us he is not that boy.”

     “He is.” Queen Rhaella breathed sadly, “I only hope he does not share my son Rhaegar’s fate in this battle. He must live through it.”

     Jon could not believe his eyes. There in his Great Master’s box sat the most exquisite girl he had ever beheld.

     The word is exquisite, not beautiful. That must be Princess Daenerys. More exciting to him was the kind woman he knew to be her mother Queen Rhaella and Sir Arthur Dayne. This was not a torture of King Aerys, but it looked torturous to the Queen as she looked as sad as she had the day he had nearly died. He almost ran to the wall to climb it to embrace the knight but remembered why he was there, to fight for his life. Still he was excited, two of the five things he cared about were right here in this arena, then the horse snorted.

     “Sorry Belarion, why do I keep forgetting you?” Three of the five, all he needed was Ghost and the girl with the heavenly scent and he could die happy. Well not die because he was going to win this thing and die free in Westeros.

     He noted out of the corner of his eye a plinth behind his opponents that held what must be his sword, why couldn’t they have just given it to him? He looked at the white knight who seemed to be his only help, the man was obviously from Westeros and not a slave. The man was about his age and he seemed overly joyous at the upcoming combat.

     “We should have a plan.”

     “I have a plan.” The golden young man replied. “I keep my king alive until he kills the one pretending to be a Baratheon.”

     “I believe I am actually a prince.”

     “Truer words have never been said my king.” The man smiled broadly, and strangely Jon felt comforted by his confidence.

     “My name is Jon.”

     “My name is Geron. I am your kingsguard Prince Jon Targaryen.”

     “No. My real name is Jon. I am only playing a Targaryen.”

     “Of course, my king.”

     “Okay. You are obviously dedicated to your role. So, the plan is I get my sword, we kill as few people as we can and try to incapacitate instead.”

     “Whatever you command. Though I believe for the Targaryen ladies you are going to have to kill the Baratheon beast.”

     “Noted.” With that Jon swung into his saddle and the combat began.

Chapter Text

     Meanwhile in Westeros...

     “Princess Elia, how has life been treating you?” Aerys asked and Elia feared what he wanted.

     “As kind as it can be, good-father.” Her voice was soft and apprehensive, but he knew although she was as she sounded, she was not cowered or she would not have used the affection of ‘good-father’, there was nothing good about him for her. That was said to piss him off.

     Part of Aerys wanted to announce to the realm that Rhaegar had cast this woman aside and taken a better wife, that there was no theft of a wolf-maid. He, however had to keep his head as clear as it could be. He had to remember Rickard’s words: Your insane and that insanity will steal all your victories if you aren’t careful.

     He could not let his insanity steal this victory. This was his most important victory, he had kept it together for years, he could not lose it now. The very future of the realm depended on him keeping his head together and keeping the heir safe.

     So long as The North thought Jon was in King’s Landing they would be loyal; so long as the Dornish of the south thought Aegon would reign after Aerys they would be loyal. Those two powers could crush any between them. Aerys had relied on the two Aegon holding their respective families in line by simply existing.

     Aerys was under no delusion that either was loyal to him. He knew Elia was not to be trusted, knew the Aegon in his Keep was not the boy that emerged from betwixed her thighs, but unlike Elia, Aerys knew exactly where her true son was. He was in a caravan of Mercenaries camped outside Meereen, so a Blackfyre daughter could seek a Targaryen prince.

     He knew this Blackfyre sought Jon, that is why he had to let Rhaella take Daenerys to Meereen, keep the boy’s eye on the prize. Make sure he came back to Westeros with the determination to win that girl he loved. Aerys did not know if Jon Loved his daughter, but she was such a divine little soul, he could not believe it would take her long to ensnare his heart.

     It had not even occurred to Aerys to match the boy and his daughter, until she started disappearing into the catacombs. He had initially been livid, he would stop her. Then Rickard reminded him: Dragons and Direwolves, Aegon and Torrhen cursed us with that pact.

     Rickard spoke of the Pact of Ice and Fire. In the last few generations it had indeed seemed to curse the two Houses, as particular couples of the two seemed drawn to each other.

     Maybe this is the generation. Rickard had told him when he was about to lock Daenerys in her room and away from the boy. Aerys was thankful to Rickard for always being the voice of reason in his head. What better way for his family and blood to hold the Iron throne than marrying his daughter to Aegon, he had always said she would.

     Or had that been Rickard? Sometimes Aerys did not know. He was thankful though that Rickard remained the voice of wisdom. He did not know what he would do without Rickard holding back the monster that was his insanity.

     “It would have been good to have you here in the flesh though.”

     Whose fault is it that is not how it is? Of course Rickard was right, but we all must make sacrifices from the future. Rickard was one such sacrifice. Regrettable as it was it was necessary.

     “I beg your pardon good-father.” Elia had no context for that comment from King Aerys.

     “How is Aegon? Do you even know?” He smiled at her.

     “My son is well.”

     “Do you know that for sure?”

     “I beg your pardon.” She sounded worried.

     “Well, many Houses seek our downfall. Would House Martell stand against the tide for your son?”

     “My brothers would go to extreme lengths to see my son safely on his throne.” She did not doubt these words, it was why her true Aegon was in Essos and she had been forced to raise an imposter.

     “Even poisoning a girl in her birthing bed.”

     “I do not know to what you refer.” What was he talking about?

     “I am sure it would have been too much for your gentle heart to be informed.” Aerys decided he should leave her to her thoughts now. Also, he had almost revealed Rickard’s existence to Elia, she could not have knowledge that could weaken him.

     He read the message for a fifth time. It was bad, he had nothing to send against this incursion into his realm, and although it was nowhere near his realm yet, he knew it would be. He had to think, but as he looked across the room to Rickard, he saw a distraction. He couldn’t even snap at him because there were other people around. He did not want to look that insane.

     He was not prepared. He had sent Jon away to gain something to use to reign with. Word was he was achieving well, but would Rhaella be courageous enough to make an alliance against Aerys’ wishes, while still in Essos? Aerys doubted she would be rebellious enough to wed their daughter to Jon in his absence.

     Aerys needed them married, so when the icemen crossed The Wall they would be stopped by the visage of Daenerys standing beside her king, their king. The knitting of House Targaryen, all achieved by the Mad King. He might be mad, but he wasn’t stupid. He had devised a powerful match, that would see his House live into eternity.

     “Are they sure?” He knew they had to be to send this crazy message.

     “They swear they have seen these creatures.” The soldier said with a quiver to his voice.

     “Thank you, we will think on it.” As soon as the soldier was gone he looked again to Rickard, still staring out a window.

     “What are we going to do?”

     Nothing. Rickard continued to stare out the window. You boiled me in my armour remember? Only you can do anything. Aerys wished Rickard would get over that incident, they needed to work together.

     “Perhaps I can write him a letter, explaining why we should not be at war.”

     No. Unless you can return his wife to him.

     “I could send him a gift of apology.”

     No. Unless you can return his son to him.

     “I could tell him where to find Jon.”

     With this movement of his forces, do you really think Aerion has no idea where Jon is? He knows where Jon is, he has already sent someone to Essos and Meereen.

     “We are screwed.”

     You are screwed.

     Aerys sighed. He was screwed. At least he had made Jon as strong as he could before Aerion killed him.

     “The Lion has found the prince.” Myra came to her king. “He is in Meereen.”

     “Meereen, surrounded by slavers? How?”

     “It seems Aerys sold him.” She expected an enraged roar, but the king for a change was subdued and calm. “I said he was sold into slavery, he was taken to Meereen to be a slave fighter.”

     “I heard you.” Aerion spoke calmly.

     “I expected… flames.”

     “If he is a slave, he can be purchased. Tell the Dragonguard to purchase him.”

     “How much is she authorised to bid?”

     “All of it.” Myra swallowed hard, ‘all of it’ was a grand amount, even for a prince. “Find out whatever the current price is and triple it.”

     “As you wish.” She relaxed, that was sure to be substantial but only a drop compared to ‘all of it’.

     “If they don’t accept my offer…” Myra turned to see the wrathful king return. “Turn the sand to glass. Send the Ice Dragons to freeze them in their deserts.” She nodded, she had watched his ire burn since his wife failed to return.

     “Your Grace.” She bowed.

     “Bring me Duncan.”

     “Your grace.” She turned to face her liege. “I understand you wish to honour your wife’s father as he is one of the few Targaryens of the south you liked. Duncan however, it may not suit your grandson.”

     “Well, he can tell me he doesn’t like it when he gets here.” Aerion growled.

     “He most likely will tell you just that.” Myra was pretty sure Jon would refuse the name. She could not guess what he would accept, but then who knew what the boy had experienced in his life so far.

     Aerion waited for the woman to leave. He rose from his throne and walked not to the edge and the behemoth Dragon below but to hidden panel, he released it and took out a small soft cloth toy. It was a Dragon, Blue and friendly looking. It was to be his son’s; but he had been lost with his mother. It could have been Duncan’s but Aerys had hidden him.

     “Maybe you could be my great-grandchild’s.” He said as he safely returned it to its resting place. Once Duncan or Jon was returned, they would set to finding him a wife and queen, then Aerion could rest, and play with his great-grandchildren as he should have played with his children and grandchildren.

     He smiled as he sat down on his great throne, Myra was probably right, Duncan would refuse his name. He wondered about the boy. He was half a Stark, did that mean he was like Rickard? Aerion did not even know the child’s colouring, was he silver like his family or dark like Rickard’s? Crown Prince Duncan was dark of hair, his daughter strangely silver, had his son been silver?

     “Most definitely.” That is what Valyeria had said when he had mused about whether Valian would be silver like him. She had been so sure of everything. She had told him it was because her mother was a woods witch. Jenny of Oldstones was just a devoted follower and blessed of the Old Gods.

     Valyeria was always firm on what was and wasn’t. She was a strong and solid queen to his people; she was the flame of his heart. But even he, a Dragon King would not tempt her fire, she burned hot. He wondered how the Southern Dragons had subdued her.

     He knew the moment she was dead, he felt it, the utter loss. He knew she had fought, for she would not go down without a fight. The letter Jaeherys had sent saying she died in the flames of Summerhall came before her death, so Aerion knew Jaeherys had held his queen for some nefarious purpose. Something was wrong and Aerion knew the weakeness of his distant cousins.

     Had Valian died with Valyeria? Aerion doubted it and as Crown Prince Rhaegar had appeared soon after his queen’s death and he was a might tiny for his age Aerion guessed what had happened. Rhaegar was Valian. He vowed vengeance until his family was returned.

     If only he was not barred by the Great Enemy’s sudden stirring, as if he knew the Heir was gone and the great Winter Throne could be empty one day. It could not sit empty, though he may wish to see the destruction of those who took his family away Aerion knew far more would suffer at the Enemy’s hands.

     Duncan needed to come home. Aerion would let him choose his name if he just came home.

     Prince Doran sat watching the children play in the pools. He loved the Water Gardens, they held many happy memories of his own childhood. Years spent with his siblings.

     “Our sister is losing her nerve.” Prince Oberyn said from his side.

     “She has been under great pressure confined under Aerys’ thumb.” Doran was always the calmer prince.

     “She has sent word for Connington to have Aegon meet Princess Daenerys in Essos.” Oberyn hissed. He loved his sister beyond measure, but she was not as clever as she thought. “Aerys may know Aegon is an imposter.”

     “Aerys was sure to have known. Anyway, Aegon of any silver type is not our concern. Rhaegar’s true heir is. Where is the Dragon now?”

     “Again, Elia says he is in Meereen.”

     “Then we need to get him out of Meereen.”

     “Queen Rhaella is doing just that for us.” Oberyn smiled.

     Doran looked at his brother with disappointment. “No, brother she is doing it for her. Not us. If Rhaella succeeds then she will make him her pawn, not ours. We need him here in Dorne to marry Ardiane and make her queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

     “Why not just marry her to Aegon then?”

     “Which Aegon do you suggest?” Doran had plans to finally take The Iron Throne and his siblings were losing the plot. It was bad tidings so late in the game. “Aegon the son of a whore who resides in the palace, or Aegon the son of a random Valyrian blooded man from Myr? Aerys suspects our and Elia’s duplicity. He would renounce both of them in favour of Rhaegar’s actual trueborn son. We need Aegon the Black.”

     “Aerys would not tarnish Rhaegar’s name by announcing the truth.” Oberyn did not see why Doran and Elia worried so much. Aerys had been holding Rhaegar aloft as proof House Targaryen had not lost its greatest, he would not jeopardise that picture.

     “He would, to remove our power to keep his own. If people even knew Elia’s marriage had been annulled our plans would crumble. No, Elia’s son must marry Daenerys to make his claim legitimate. And my daughter must marry Rhaegar’s dark son.”

     “I do not see why he is so important. Elia has already said Aerys holds him in such disregard he has tortured the boy. Why do you fear him?”

     “Because Aerys has had great opportunity to rid himself of this boy, yet he lives and was hidden from all for too long for Aerys to not hold concern for him. Aerys madness tortured the boy. Aerys however, still must see him as important. And ultimately it does not matter what Aerys sees him as. The Lords of Westeros will see him as their true and rightful heir. He is the trueborn heir and therefore as long as he lives he is the most direct path to the throne.”

     “We should have him killed.”

     “No, he is primed to wish to destroy Aerys, to seek revenge and we can use Aerys tortures to our advantage.” Doran advised his brother. If nothing else Elia had sacrificed too much for this. Doran understood Elia had been sold to get this throne, and to abandon the plan would negate all her suffering.

     Aerys watched his ‘good-daughter’ as she aided her own daughter to make decisions about her wedding, he saw her pain and he revelled in it. Serves her right for betraying Rhaegar.

     It is cruel and Rhaegar would be ashamed. Aerys hated that Rickard disagreed with him on this. Rickard wanted to be merciful. Honour him.

     Reluctantly Aerys trudged down to the women. Elia looked at him with hatred and Rhaenys with question. He was going to say something nasty but then he looked at the woman who had no idea she wasn’t his grandchild and he felt the mercy Rickard had suggested.

     “House Lannister must be taught to tow the line and honour our House.” Rhaenys nodded her understanding and Elia scowled at him from behind her daughter’s head. “But Rhaenys you have been so patient about getting a husband I feel it is unfair to thrust the duty upon you.”

     “What are you saying Grandfather?” Was she to be cloistered here longer?

     “I am calling off your betrothal.” He saw Elia’s relief and Rhaenys’ disappointment that she was confined again. “I have decided to reward your patience however, you may marry any man of acceptable status you wish. Having said that, I will allow a few to visit you with the potential to court you, if you do not like any of them, you will be able to invite another round until you find a suitable husband,”

     “Why are you doing this?” Elia asked suspiciously.

     “Because Rhaenys is my first grandchild. She has a special position and it is what Rhaegar would have wanted to do for her, to allow her to choose for love.” Rhaenys shot forward to hug her grandfather, she knew it was not usual and he would hate it, but she was compelled.

     He wanted to push her off, to scream for her to stop touching him. He wanted to call guards to drag her off.

     Take it! Rickard did like to torture him sometimes, but he feared Rickard’s wrath more than Rhaenys’ embrace so he did stand there and let her hug him in thanks.

     “Thank you, Grandfather!” She was overjoyed, she may have accepted she must marry Tyrion Lannister and do her duty, had even come to like him, but her dreams of a husband had still been different.

     Elia was still suspicious. Aerys did not do nice things for people and after Rhaenys had finished hugging him in thanks and excused herself to both process and plan her invitations, Elia continued to glare at Aerys. “What are you up to?”

     “Princess Elia. I will be frank. I know far more than you think. That however was because Rhaegar loved that little girl despite knowing she wasn’t his. I will not torture a child Rhaegar loved.”

     “Do you think to make me think you are suddenly sane?”

     “No, I am mad as a hatter.” He grinned at her shocked look; she hadn’t suspected he knew about her secret coded messages. “I know far more than you think., as I said. Mostly I do not care, do not mess in my plans and I will let you live unaccosted. Mess in my plans I will burn you. Your daughter has never messed in anything that I know of and now she will be loyal because I was kind. Do not mess it up for her with your brothers’ ambitions.” Aerys simply walked away he might have gloated about his knowledge of the Aegon lie but Rickard told him to walk away and leave Elia to choose whether she wished to defect to House Targaryen.

Chapter Text

     “Noted.” With that Jon swung into his saddle and the combat began to the roar of the crowd.

     The ‘Usurper‘ indicated for the extra infantry men to hang back and directed them to guard the sword. He had heard tales of the Champion, he needed to keep him and that sword apart. He and his ‘Dog?’ henchman would have a better chance of surviving if they kept the Champion unarmed. He had no idea of this mercenary who chose to fight with him. Surely their number would see them triumphant. Only he and the man dressed with a hound on his shirt moved forward. He prayed Battle would gain him the win.

     Geron and his steed knew mounted combat and he could see they were the only ones that might, with the black stallion Jon was riding being the only possible other. Time for some scare tactics.

     Geron spurned his gelding to charge at the mounted opponents swinging his sword from side to side in wide circles. The Usurper and Dog were unsure of where his sword would be. They split to avoid him. In that space, Geron spun towards the Dog and pushed in front of his horse.

     The division of the two mounted opponents gave Jon his chance, he urged Belarion on and the great black stallion flew over the Usurpers head as if a barely raised bar. Jon lay along his horse, his ear next to the thudding pulse in the horse’s thick neck, black against black. The crowd roared in jubilation at their Champion’s mastery of another skill and his spectacular showing of horsemanship.

     Sir Barristan whistled low at the sight; he doubted the boy would have had much practise. Sir Selmy took his eyes off the combat and turned his gaze to his Westerosi companions, the queen and his white brother, Arthur did not seem surprised how similar this lad looked to Prince Rhaegar, especially dressed as him. Had they been aware?

     Barristan wondered why he had never been informed Rhaegar’s son lived in a hole in the Red Keep. How had anyone who knew who he was allowed the king to treat him as he did? Hell! Rhaegar would emolliate them if he were alive. The Crown Prince had been a stable-minded royal, but he had both a doom and a fury about him. Rarely did he unleash, but he had for one moment on The Trident – and Robert had started to smoke, then he calmed and dropped his guard and his sword as if he was making a sacrifice.

     As Barristan watched the boy on the black land beyond the touch of his enemies, looking a dark version of his father, he understood why his prince had dropped his sword. He also understood his last whispered words. Rhaegar had gone to The Trident to stall Robert.

     The crowd was on its feet as the stallion crashed into the standing ‘infantry’. They scattered away from the imposing beast, who snorted as if saying ‘as it should be’. The stallion wheeled before the platform and Jon vaulted from the saddle and bound up the two steps to the plinth which held the sword.

     Jon stopped for only a moment to sigh at the beauty of the blade that lay there. It had an ornate Dragon hilt with a large blue pommel stone. The blade gleamed in the sun, though it seemed to be black steel. All gold, black, red and blue shining in the light of the blazing sun. He did not have time to be over-awed by a blade. He grabbed it quickly and turned to find Belarion wheeling around the plinth, waiting for him to mount up again.

     Jon leaped and hoped he did not fall on his face in the sand. By what Jon could only guess was an absolute miracle, he not only caught the horse but landed in the saddle. He raced back with his prize to Geron who was happily playing with their main two opponents, riding circles around them with his better skills.

     Jon shook his head in disbelief as the white gelding spun on a copper; rushed forward to stop a hair’s breadth from the other horses; reared and brought hooves down in their faces. How the horse did so with the metal clad knight on his back without losing the knight was amazing. The crowd was oohing and aahhing as well.

     Geron smiled when he saw the distraction had worked and Jon had his blade. He wheeled his horse to race to the wall and gallop towards a rendezvous with his prince. Geron had not had this much fun in years, rarely did you get to do this in a true battle. He knew he and his horse were not in any danger from these untrained slaves.

     The Usurper and his ‘Dog’ turned their steeds unsteadily and tried to pursue the Champion and his guard. The heroes of the sands rode along the edges of the arena close enough to the walls the closest audience members leaned over the walls to try to touch the champion, gain the favour of the Gods of War and Battle, for he must be blessed by ancient Gods.

     As they came together at the end of the arena Jon was wearing a huge grin, he did not love the harming of others, but he lived for this adrenaline, like he was born for battle. They had ridden up opposite sides to divide the target they would be, their horses of such an exceptional quality, their opponents trailed behind, far enough back that they had time to converse quickly.

     As much as he loved the pump of his blood during battle he was not experienced in this type of battle, he was no cavalry man, he needed advice and Geron seemed to have knowledge.

     “I am no Dothraki blood rider or Westerosi knight, how do we fight from horseback?” Jon called to Geron as quietly as he could, so the answer and possible battle plan was not revealed to the opponents.

     Geron threw his head back in a great peal of laughter. “You, my king let your instincts and natural talent guide you.” His green eyes shone. “But as you don’t trust yourself as much as I do, let your steed fight for you, he will ride them down. Do not pull his head, right now he has more courage for this type of battle than you do. Our horses will knock theirs down; we jump before the impact; they will not expect this and will fall with their horses. We can hope their horses crush them or ours stample them leaving the infantry.”

     “What happened to incapacitate?” Jon asked concerned by the plan, these men were just as much slaves to these circumstance as him.

     “A man can survive a crushed leg or a stampling and honestly, my king, they will not be holding back, we shouldn’t either.” The young Westerosi shared a look and broke away from the wall at a gallop. They crossed paths halfway to their opponent as they realised Jon probably needed to verse the ‘Stag’, it also made their charge look spectacular.

     Daenerys was at the edge of the Master Wazir’s Box watching every move Jon made. Probably appreciating the way he moved far too much for a girl betrothed to a prince. She did not know why but she found the movement of Jon’s muscles as he moved fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.

     She quickly gazed back to make sure she wasn’t making a spectacle of herself; she was relieved to find everyone else was focussed on the combatants. Which she returned to with relish, watching one in particular. Perhaps imagining it like a faerytale of old, the conquering knight whisking the princess off after winning the battle. Win the battle Jon.

     Jon felt like he truly was flying on Dragon-back, riding his ‘Belarion’ at his enemy, the wind rushing over him. This was in truth Jon’s first experience of riding a horse at any true speed. It should be his first experience of riding at all, but Sir Arthur had snuck him out one day to teach him to ride, strangely he had said something about how she had loved to ride.

     Jon had wondered who ‘she’ was, but he was a small child and truth was the covered courtyard was as outside as he had ever been at the time. The filtered sunlight was so warm on his usually cold skin. He had felt they were being watched but could not see anyone around. He had found it also liked to ride, now he felt the love of it.

     Jon shook his head lightly to concentrate on the now, because as nice as reminiscing was, they were in the middle of a battle. He had to concentrate to stay alive. The infantry men came running forward to help their ‘commander’, they had been given instructions on how they were to present themselves in this battle. Some were very nervous, they were honoured too, they shared the sands with the Champion, but terrifyingly they were facing him in battle. For such a young fighter he was skilled, almost like he was born to wield a sword, like it was his only purpose.

     Jon charged towards the Usurper, his eyes hard as he stared down the man in black-brown and orange-yellow crowned stag uniform. He was feeling strange emotions as he looked at this visage of a man Jon knew was supposed to be dead for most of his life. Robert Baratheon had always been a confounding subject for Jon. Jon had no investment in Baratheon, his rebellion or his story, yet had always had a perplexing dislike of the man and his reasoning.

     When he would read or hear tell stories of the Rebellion or the Battle he was currently re-enacting, he had always questioned Robert Baratheon and his beliefs, not just because he was tortured due to their results. Truth was Jon always felt Prince Rhaegar was more a hero than Robert was. Though none of his guards or even his torturer King Aerys spoke of the abduction of Lady Lyanna, Jon had believed Prince Rhaegar would not have stolen her and she would not have been stolen. Was he a romantic to think Prince Rhaegar simply found love after he was married and not with Princess Elia?

     He hated this battle because it was the reason for half his tortured days and because Jon really did honestly agree Prince Rhaegar’s demise was a tragedy. Arthur said free boys played Battle of The Trident and fought over who was to be the victorious Robert. Jon would not have. Jon would happily have been Prince Rhaegar, and not just to be free to play with others. Jon secretly believed Prince Rhaegar should have won.

     Who wouldn’t want to be the noble Prince Rhaegar? Not that Jon had seen much of what he believed Prince Rhaegar to have been in the family the man left behind, though he had not met all of them. Still some days in the dark, Prince Rhaegar seemed to be a light in Jon’s life, because everything would be different if Robert hadn’t killed Prince Rhaegar.

     Now, however Jon did not have even seconds to contemplate what he had once spent hours in the dark contemplating in the Black Cell he had once lived in. He would not admit it, but he missed that cell, his torturer and the girl that would visit him. He would visit King Aerys one more time to hear her half-chuckle just once more.

     The horses thundered on towards their opponents and the two men opposite them started to look worried as they saw the charge was not being pulled up. At the last second Geron shouted ‘My King!’ and Jon dove off his horse to avoid any injury and hoped Belarion would not be hurt too much.

     The Usurper dove from his horse, something must have warned him, or he had more experience with mounted battle than his companion, as the false Stark was rolled under his horse as the barded chest of Geron’s gelding smashed into it and knocked it over. He pushed at the steed, but it was shocked and in pain. As it screamed at the discomfit, a princess in the stands wept to hear it. A prince on the sands, closed his eyes and prayed for the horse to recover.

     The Usurper’s dive was not steady, and he needed time to recover, as he rolled haphazardly to the side trying to avoid the thundering hooves of the triumphant horses. Belarion looked back as if he would turn to stample the man; as if he knew this man was a danger to his rider.

     As the horses’ chests slammed into each other, the crowd gasped, for the powerful muscles colliding made a terrible sound, the Stag may have escaped but his horse fell and by the scream and gurgling sound it had broken something, red froth spurted from it’s mouth with every breath. The crowd loved it; the sands were being blessed with blood this day.

     “Surely someone will aid the horse.” Daenerys spun to stare imploringly at her host.

     “It is a beast who cares for its life.” Master Wazir smiled as he drank deeply from his cup.

     Daenerys looked back tears streaming down her face for the poor creature. She would order one of the Kingsguards to aid it, but that would put them in danger, and it was stressful enough with Jon being down there.

     Jon rolled up onto his feet, his sword in hand ready to defend him. His cloak rolled in the opposite direction and so now the only Dragon was on his breast plate and in his heart. He looked around to assess the situation and results of their ploy. He saw the brown gelding of his opponent as the Usurper ran as fast as he could mange to recover behind his men.

     He should not do it; he should look to his own health and safety first. He should let it be. He could not. Jon ran across the sands and although he knew the Masters would prefer to let the crowd see the steed’s pain and suffering, Jon could not leave it in such a state. If nothing else, Princess Daenerys should be saved from the visage.

     Jon stood above the thrashing and screaming horse, he raised his sword and struck down. “Blessed are those that die in War, for War will give them peace.” The black steel of the sword sliced easily through the Horse’s chest and Jon drove it deep into the steed’s heart, ending its suffering. Half the crowd roared at his death dealing, half ‘booed’ for the loss of entertainment. These people are monstrous. He shook his head and looked to his next challenge.

     Geron in his metal armour had not come up out of the roll as cleanly but he was back on his feet, which amazed Jon who was sure he would be like a tortoise in the sand: on his back struggling to turn over. The ‘Direwolf’ was still under his horse, who from Jon’s quick assessment was not mortally wounded. And Geron was laughing at the fun he was having though he did look at the dead horse and frown, then nodded his agreement to Jon’s actions. Then he raised his sword and looked towards the fleeing Usurper and his now slowly advancing men.

     It was obvious these men were wary not just of the legend of The Champion, but of what they had just watched. The Black Prince and White Knight were dangerous and now it was their turn to face them. Many of them said quick prayers to the Gods of War and Battle, not to save them, they doubted that were possible, but for quick and glorious deaths. Their ‘leader’ was ‘catching his breath’; or sending them in to die and tire the warriors before them.

     “How can they face so many and hope to win?” Daenerys whispered to Sir Barristan.

     “I think the infantry are asking themselves how they can face those two and hope to win.” Barristan spoke quietly down to his princess. He was impressed by these two lads and they were lads, neither the age to be called seasoned, both still teens. Yet, even Barristan was relieved to not have to face them, because they appeared seasoned. They fought like they had stood back-to-back many battles, and this was just the current time they faced blood and steel together.

     Jon stood sword raised as Geron mirror him at his back. The contrasting colours were lost on them, but not their audience. Roars of encouragement rose from the stands. Some women even feinted, not that the two young warriors could see that. Jon moved his eyes slightly to see the Master’s Box. He was not looking for Wazir or First Daughter, he was looking at the queen and Kingsguard and maybe just one glance at the princess.

     I cannot die today. I need be free and return to Westeros, I need to see the Girl of Honey and Roses before I die. I cannot die today. If he was honest it was why he fought so well, and never lost. He was determined to see her face before he died, to just once look upon her and speak to her without shadow everywhere. To exist for one moment in the Light with her. So, he fought like he had nothing to live for because he had one very special dream he lived for.

     “Shall we do this, Lion?” Jon yelled with a smile.

     “We shall, my king.” Geron grinned brightly, for a moment it was not mock battle. For a moment they were on a battlefield fighting for the Light and pushing back the Dark. Jon was his king and he was Jon’s Lord Commander, and none could break them while they fought beside each other. He knew one day they would battle the Dark for the Light again, but today they just had to defeat a travesty of a result to a long fought battle.

     Then they ran towards the infantry, swords before them. Charging their enemy. The crowd roared at the excitement, but then everything went quiet as a great roar rose on the air, a roar that froze masters, free men and slaves all. Then a howl, chilling and terrifying.

     “Direwolves.” Arthur breathed. “And…”

     “A Dragon.” Rhaella said quietly with awe.

     “Maybe just one of the Lion’s in the pits.” Master Wazir whimpered, for the roar was too loud and had come from above not the pits.

     “Such is their war cry.” A slave woman said as she filled the Master’s cup. Daenerys turned to stared at the woman and saw a flash of burning green in her eyes, hair so red-gold it looked as if aflame. The slave woman smiled and bowed her head before turning away. “Lions, Dragons and Direwolves.”

     On the sands they only heard their own roars as they ran, they didn’t even notice the silence of the crowd. They did not notice the ‘Direwolf’s’ mount had stopped screaming and had gone quiet. Did not take notice of how the marching men halted for a second to look around. Jon and Geron just roared their war cries and ran on.

     Then the crowd came back to life and roared for combat and blood. Called for Death to descend upon the arena and to do it with gusto. For Death to show his merciless side. For the joy of seeing other men suffer for your entertainment.

     As the combatants clashed the extra men parted for the better warriors. Geron swung his sword wide and dove forward to grab a dropped shield. He would make good use of that. He was intimidating, blade slashing out and a shield used effectively to deflect any who tried to slash at him.

     Jon slashed straight through two men with his long sword and looked down at it very surprised, how sharp was this thing? What was it made of? It was not all the sword though his speed and agility could not be matched by these lesser trained men. It did not seem fair that they were sent in here to die for the enjoyment of the crowd, who were currently cheering with exuberance for the blood spray as men died.

     Jon felt lucky he had such brilliant mentors and sword masters to teach him so well. He hoped Sir Arthur would not be ashamed of his lessons being used in such an abhorrent fashion. Sir Hightower, Sir Dayne and Sir Whent had taught him well, and they had taught him so he could fight for the good of himself and others, not to cut men down like reeds. He wanted to throw down his sword and fight more fairly, because none of these men had such a fine weapon.

     Sir Hightower had told him to never let his weapon lay in the dirt, he supposed that meant in the sand too. Right now, he was in too close of combat to wield such a long weapon – it was a disadvantage - he needed to put it somewhere safe. He whistled Belarion, his steed could protect his blade. The stallion came thundering in at it’s riders call. Jon did momentarily wonder how and why, but he had no time to brood over strange circumstance.

     The crowd’s reaction to the deaths was deafening, and their faces were painted in jubilation at the blood spray and the smell of Death and fear. The Master smiled, he would be ten times richer than when he entered. He looked at the lustful looks on some of the wealthy women’s faces. Bidding would skyrocket, like the cocks of all the boys who had beheld the princess today.

     When Belarion was beside him he stabbed the blade across the top of the saddle like he was sheathing it, terrible for the saddle but the blade slid like a hot knife through butter. What a weapon! Still no time. “Fly.” He sent Belarion off.

     His opponents were hesitant to verse him, but they needed to attack, or they would be standing around waiting to die. It would be a terrible death to be killed because you milled around waiting for the Champion to kill you. A man drove forward to cut the lad down, maybe it was all show, he was too young to be as good as they said, and now he was unarmed.

     Jon bent to grab two short swords off his dead opponents and spun just in time to block a man with a mace, the sharpened spikes would have impaled him and ended this with a maximum of two strikes. Stay sharp, be quick. He ducked low, spun underneath the mace and behind the man and stabbed his swords backward, into his kidneys. It was a silly move but the crowds loved the flamboyance of it and he knew the more gold Wazir made the quicker he would free Jon. On cue the crowd went wild.

     The silver princess breathed ‘yes’ under her breath; glad Jon had the skills to defend himself in this horrid place. Her usual gentle heart was hardened against the plight of these men, because they were trying to kill the boy she wanted to win, and not die. She knew they had no choice, but she had no choice in caring only that Jon was alive.

     Rhaella gazed at her daughter, as Daenerys watched the combat. She had not expected this reaction to the conflict from her gentle girl. As she looked out over the battle she realised, this may not be a crush. Rhaella looked at the boy below, then at her daughter’s total focus. Daenerys did not have a crush on Jon, Daenerys may actually love Jon. How had this happened?

     Daenerys had said she met and visited him more often than Rhaella had originally known; was affected by him and his words. Still the queen had thought it was only a crush, but by the way Daenerys’ face contorted in horror and jubilation, this was more than a crush. Not a flight of fancy for something different to what awaited her at home. Daenerys’ features said she loved Jon and if he did not survive this, neither may the girl.

     Rhaella recognised what degree of love Daenerys had for Jon, a degree she had once felt herself, and had not been allowed to experience. A love Rhaella had lost years ago. His death had crushed Rhaella, had taken all hope out of the world. She had never and would never truly recover from his loss. Would Daenerys experience the same thing? Rhaella prayed to the Mother, she did not.

     It was even more important she found a way to free Jon now, not just for him, but for her daughter too. Aerys may not allow Daenerys to love Jon or even have him, but Rhaella could keep him alive for her. Give her the knowledge he was safe.

     Then again, they were all the way across the Narrow Sea in Essos, things could happen that could not be helped, or stopped… Rhaella could ensure they happened. Rhaegar ran away and got married to Lyanna, Daenerys could runaway and marry Jon. Rhaella couldn’t stop that from happening. She would have no idea what happened at all. Oh well, cannot change it now. What I am to be a grandmother!? Rhaella smiled at that thought, little curly haired Hatchlings.

     Geron cut low to take a man down at his knees, raising his shield over his head to protect himself from another. All done with minimal effort it seemed, he almost seemed to be moving extra slowly as if the speed and intensity of the battle was not exciting for him. The older warriors would not have been surprised if he yawned.

     “That young Barristan, is putting you to shame.”

     “That young Barristan is building my legend. See how easily we Barristans perform in combat, it is like the opponents are straw dummies. Such is the greatness of our skill.” If Arthur was going to tease him, he would revel in the glory.

     “He is better than you.”

     “He is younger. Hence the title, Young Barristan.” Barristan’s feature went serious. “I hope his skill can keep his Dragon Prince alive, unlike mine failed to do.”

     “Don’t begrudge yourself that. Much more was happening than you could account for.” Arthur knew Barristan would have given his everything to save Rhaegar, wished he himself had been there, but who would know if that would have changed anything.

     “Arthur…” Barristan spoke very low. When Arthur turned, he saw wrath in his brother’s eyes. “Why was the king allowed to do as he did to that boy?”

     “He is king.” Arthur spoke quietly, the princess did not need the extra information.

     “How long did you know?” Barristan growled low, angry he had not been informed, that he had watched with confusion at King Aerys’ obsession with the boy. This explained why this boy had been kept in the Keep, but not the treatment Barristan saw. Where had he been dragged out of? By the princess’ reaction to the lad, she had no idea of who he was.

     “Since Rhaegar left for Winterfell.” Arthur answered. That seemed ridiculous because Jon wasn’t even conceived until months later, but Arthur knew Rhaegar could not leave Lyanna as soon as he saw Benjen’s handwriting on the message from Winterfell. Saw the rage in Rhaegar’s eyes and the way he bolted out of the room and the Capital.

     The only stop being to Elia, to tell her he could not abide this political crap and would be annulling their marriage. Reassuring her this meant she was left free to follow her heart and he would ensure she got the man she loved. She had enthusiastically agreed, had wondered - Arthur knew - how Rhaegar was going to arrange everything, but happy he was finally freeing them from the politics of their families.

     “It was safer that few knew.” Arthur knew Barristan would not have been a problem, but the boy had been too important to let the rumours start and people come looking.

     “The king …” Barristan recalled the two latest days of torture Jon had endured.

     “I know. He forgave him though. He is most definitely his father’s son.” Arthur smiled at Barristan, hoped he understood. When Barristan smiled back, he knew he did.

     “They are very good, aren’t they?” The princess looked to the two Kingsguards. Asking for their professional insights.

     “They are indeed princess.” Barristan said to her large eyes. “Young me, is extremely good for his age. He must only be around your age, yet he fights like a veteran.”

     “He knows how to use his weapon as a benefit and make their weapons a deficit to his opponents.” Arthur was glad that Jon was not alone out there but had a damned fine partner for this travesty. It was cruel to make the boy relive the battle he had suffered for.

     “I don’t think either of us could have come up so quickly from that leap. Not in full plate.” Barristan breathed in awe of the young warrior.

     “He wears it like it is padded leather.” Arthur shook his head in amazement. Then both lads were amazing out there.

     “Makes a knight proud to be his forebearer.” Barristan grinned. “So glad he is Sir Barristan not Sir Arthur or I’d never hear the end of it.”

     “Not at all. If he was Sir Whent you would never hear the end of it.” He smiled.

     “He couldn’t be Whent. He has too much hair.” Barristan made fun of their bald brother. He smiled as he looked at the young ‘Barristan’ dressed in his white armour, he did indeed look like a kingsguard, a specific one, which stole Barristan’s smile. “You know which kingsguard he looks like though?” He lent in so Daenerys could not hear, not that her attention left Jon often.

     “Yes.” Arthur said soberly. “The Kingslayer.” He whispered.

     “No, there is something different. But he sure as hell looks like a Lannister. Except I don’t think Jaime ever laughed so much.”

     “Why does he laugh?” Daenerys’ attention was back with the knights.

     “I think he is having fun.” Barristan replied.

     “Killing people?” Daenerys did not sound happy about the thought.

     “Battle is not all about death.” One of Master Wazir’s guards interrupted. “Life is a battle; Battle is life. True followers of War enjoy the dance.” Daenerys turned to watch the battle below her, with a new eye. “The Prince and his Lion dance well.”

     “Lion?” Barristan confirmed.

     “He is known as the Red Lion. He comes from a small military group, called The Blades. They hail from Westeros.”

     “Westeros?” Suddenly the queen’s attention was with the guard.

     “Hush Slave! Our Champion is in the middle of a battle.” The guard nodded but said nothing. Queen Rhaella glared at the Master, he was truly skating her rage.

     “They are very good.” Barristan said purposefully ignoring the Master. “The Champion does seem well trained and has real talent with a blade. Some of his moves could not be taught.”

     “His blade master would be so proud.” Arthur said with the pride he had of Jon’s prowess.

     “How couldn’t he be?” Barristan still had plans to interrogate his brother knight about all this, but now was not the time.

      Geron slashed up at his attacker, causing a great slash in the man’s abdomen, spilling his intestines between them. He heard the screams of Direwolf’s horse as it tried to get up and avoid the struggling man beneath it. He noted the Usurper was rushing forward to help his prone companion.

     Geron saw the princess in the stands cringe towards Jon and with a quick glance he saw the young man facing two men with a third approaching to attack from the rear, so Geron set his shield before him and charged forward to knock the sneaker down as he stared down at the man, he was surprised by his visage. The man had a deep scar across his face disfiguring his mouth, it did not sicken him, but that he was still made to fight made Geron angry.

     “Let it end.” The man below him looked desperate.

     “Death bless you.” Geron said solemnly as he stabbed his sword down into the chest of his prone opponent, to see a smile cross his face as life left him. Geron had no time to dwell on it, Jon had two men on him and although he had entangled one of their swords with his own and was currently doing what Geron guessed was necessary showmanship for the arena.

     Jon had entangled one of his opponents swords with his own and was spinning around the tangle of weapons to slam his back into the man’s chest, pinning the sword, then freed one of his own swords to stab backwards into the man’s abdomen as he used the man’s sword arm and sword to parry his second opponent.

     The white knight spun to check his surroundings to open the throat of an infantry man too close to his shield, with its edge. He wondered who sharpened their shield edges? The blood sprayed in a great arc from the man’s throat and splattered into the sand, painting Geron in red. The crowd was on its feet with a cheer for the blood spilt.

     The ‘army’ could tell they had no chance against the two warriors and with hand signals three decided the slower harder to wound knight must be taken down first. They knew from past experience the Champion was quick, so took their chance with the mercenary. Geron watched and assessed while the three men circled him. Who would he take out first?

     Jon squatted lower as he faced his taller opponent – bracing his feet shoulder width apart to lower his centre of balance. Holding his twin swords out in front of him ready for the attack. The step that told Jon to attack was taken and Jon was quick to duck under his attacker’s swing and cut with his dual blades, then as the man fell he came forward to slash down, sheer luck found the man’s sword in the way to parry the twin swords of the Champion.

     Rising to his feet his attacker thrust his blade forward to impale Jon’s chest, but found the two swords raised in defence. Again, the man swung, and Jon spun low under his sword spinning completely around he took a long breath as he came back to face his opponent swords coming together in a cross to slice the man’s throat. Then he simply stepped over the fallen foe and strode on to his next target.

     The crowd was on their feet and in full voice. They paid gold to see the Champion do this magnificent combat and never were they disappointed. Usually his combats although bloody were not fatal but there was a fury in their Champion today. The sands would be blessed with even more blood, and the crowd could not get enough.

     The crowd did not know the true story of the battle they watched and they hung on every movement. Jon however knew it intimately, even if not from the Mad King’s rantings, from his own dreams all his life. He was very much done with this battle and he was displaying his disdain in his attitude as he made moves to just get it over with, to have it done. He looked around for the next person he needed to incapacitate.

     Seeing that Geron was in trouble Jon raced across to his companion leaping at the last moment to drive his sword down on one of the men, slicing into the man’s shoulder and chest, from the stands it looked like for a moment that Jon was flying. A chant rose from the crowd. They sang as one ‘Dragon.’ It was strange for the visiting Dragons but under her breath Daenerys chanted ‘Jon’.

     Jon abandoned the sword in the man’s chest; pulling the man’s sword from his scabbard and threw it to hit one of the two infantry men square in the chest, the man melted to his knees. That feat made Jon stop for a moment and stare, he was surprised, astonished even that the move worked. He would have thought it would bounce off. Even Geron looked a bit surprised. Jon was glad it wasn’t just him that found the fact the throw had worked miraculous.

     The crowd gasped in awe of their Champion, every combat he did them proud and entertained them. Showed them feats no mortal man should be capable of. They truly loved their Champion, many felt should he ever be killed, they would never attend the Pits again. Why would they it would be proof the Gods had abandoned the sands if they allowed the Dragon to fall?

     The Stag used his great size and muscle to lift the horse off his companion and freed the Dog and now they crossed the sand to battle the Champion and his white cloak. Although the Stag strode the Dog was limping badly, wondering how he had been chosen for this battle.

     With only one last infantry man remaining, the fight was about to be focused on the main characters. The infantry man thought to get out of the way and rolled away from the slower metal clad knight but got a metal boot in his ribs as he escaped. Which stopped him moving, he had broken ribs now.

     The kick seemed to make the slave infuriated and determined for revenge. He spun around to slash at Geron with his sword, Geron maybe slow but he was experienced and dodged the slash. Geron parried his next blow but the man stabbed up into Geron’s left shoulder penetrating between plates and causing blood to flow.

     Daenerys gasped in fear for Jon’s ally, she may not know him, but he was helping Jon to not die, so he was of great concern to her presently. Would he be able to fight on or was Jon on his own now? She didn’t even know if it was a mortal wound. By his angry face she guessed he wasn’t about to fall down dead.

     Geron swore and slashed at the chest of his opponent only to be parried. The swords of the two men locked but Geron’s was a better blade and his weight in the metal armour greater so he pushed the man back. The man raised his sword to parry Geron’s next slash but lost it arm and all, up to his elbow. The crowd roared in delight. Geron rolled his eyes, he may like – even love – combat but these people were too adoring of blood-sport.

     Jon spun around to see the Usurper and the Direwolf were nearly upon them. He had no weapon, then he saw the man on his knees somehow getting to his feet with a sword in his chest. Jon strode forward to the man with the sword in his chest, grabbed the sword and pulled, kicking the man back at the same time with his foot. The man stumbled back onto the spiked walls, impaling himself. He didn’t even feel it, he was already in Death’s embrace.

     “The Usurper is mine; you incapacitate the Dog.” Jon yelled his instructions. Geron turned to face the oncoming men, the Stag was thundering forward, full of rage and energy; The Dog limped as fast as he could behind him. “I will not have a Direwolf slain, even a false one.” Geron nodded his understanding.

     The Stag charged Jon only to find the Dragon Prince was no longer there, he was running into the centre of the arena, he whistled his steed as he ran dropping the sword in his hand. Daenerys worried Jon was fleeing as he bolted but the audience knew something great was coming from past experience – The Champion had a nerve of Valyrian steel.

     Jon met Belarion in the centre of the sands and pulled his sword with its ornate Dragon hilt from the saddle. Belarion then thundered away from his rider straight at the charging Stag, the brute swerved to avoid the horse, but the manoeuvre gave Jon precious seconds to prepare.

     Geron strode up to the limping Dog. “Surrender in the name of the King!” The Direwolf went to pull his sword. “Well have it your way Dog. I will deal with you in my king’s own fashion for annoying people.” With that Geron punched him in the nose with his mailed fist. Knocking him unconscious. “Hmmm, I see the appeal.” Geron said as he watched the man melt and sink into the sand. Then the white clad knight lent on his sword as he watched the Stag and the Dragon clash.

     He was huge in comparison, but Jon had no fear, as he glared and he was glaring for some reason, true disdain for his opponent. In his enthusiasm foreign sentiments and thoughts went through his head as he sprinted towards the Usurper. How dare this beast think he can take my love.

     The Stag was a tower compared to the black clad Dragon, but the Stag was slow, and the Dragon could fly, add to that he was blood of the Direwolf and was as dexterous and enduring as his symbols. They come together in a great smash of weapons and a great roar from the crowd – a gasp from a princess and a prayer from her mother.

     Behind his helm the Stag cringed as he heard his weapon crack from the smash of the black blade, glad the helm hid his features. The lad was smaller, he should have easily moved him, but he stood firm as if he was stone and he managed to move the larger man back. He had heard the Champion was quick and tireless, he had not heard he was this strong.

     He wondered for a moment if the lad was even human. He and his companion had dispatched the fodder slaves far quicker than he could comprehend. He had expected more time to formulate a better plan. Then he was shown the Dragon’s speed as he came forward slashing as if he was just twirling the sword, except he was making thrusts. All the Stag could do was hold up his weapon and hope it held as he gathered himself.

     The Stag used his superior strength and size to push with a massive shove of his hammer against the Dragon. Lucky Jon had learnt to centre his weight and plant his feet, or he may have ended up on his arse in the sand, but he was pushed back a few metres as the Stag strode behind the hammer.

     An overhead swing of the hammer nearly took Jon’s head off as he moved his head slightly to the left, and it missed by hairs. He had to be careful, a stray strike could ring his head like a bell and although obviously the hammer was not his weapon, the Usurper was making good use of it. Jon wished he could meet some of these men off the sands, they were probably good and decent men.

     With determination Jon shot forward and slashed low at the man in the antlered helm, the man tried to dodge the slash, for metal to cut into his leather armour but in his tossing of his body he lost the helm and breathed a sigh of relief - the thing was a hinderance. Just the weight of it and it’s feel on his head had been distracting, he could not imagine someone wearing something so stupid.

     Jon was a bit surprised to see white blonde hair under the helm, as was Geron who whistled and told the rising Dog ‘what a reversal’ to only punch him in the nose again. Geron took his gauntlet off, he doubted he would be needed to fight from here and it would be kinder to the slave he was punching.

     At some point the co-ordinators of the battle must have decided the battle was going too quickly for they sent three more men onto the sands. Geron heard the crowd react and punched the rising Dog before heading off to eliminate the intruders. He headbutted one sending him down. He slashed his sword through one’s abdomen and drove his pommel into the last’s temple.

     “Desist!” Geron glared at the Overseer on the other side of the gate. “Before I stride through that gate and impale you! Blades!” He called to his men who stood from their positions in the stands. “If one more man is sent in here, enter the pits and slit the throats of every overseer and guard and then head to the Masters’ Boxes. I have no issue stopping slavery today.”

     Men in armour nodded and drew their blades, one even pulled up his spear and tapped an official’s shoulder close to him with the tip. Hasty orders were sent to stop any more slaves being sacrificed to this mockery.

     “For War’s sake, how hard can this extraction get?” Geron cursed as he strode back to the Dog, to take his vigil up again. If this dragged on too long, they would send in the Dragonguards, no one would be surviving that. Maybe the Targaryens but few others if any, Kasmira liked to scorch the earth and bathe in blood.

     “Shall we enjoy the show?” He said to the Dog as he rose again.

     “Yes, just stop punching me.” The man replied to Geron’s surprise and then his laugh.

     It truly was Usurper and Dragon now. Jon spun under the Stag’s attacks and did lightning raids in to wear the giant down. The Stag brought thunderous blows down but missed the Dragon who was never where he was expected. Sometimes it was like he turned to smoke, which made sense to the Stag, what with him being a Dragon.

     The crowd was treated to the Stag thundering around trying to hit the quick Dragon and the Dragon spinning and slashing making cuts that spilled the Stags blood and made his energy sap from him. Strikes, parries and dodges all spectacularly executed. It did look like a dance being played out in the sand.

     It was like his childhood dreams, water rushing around a large man striding towards him and men yelling and dying on all sides. Yet, for him it was silent, there was no sound, not even the clash of steel. He did not wish to be here, he never did, always he thought he wished to be somewhere warm and dry huddled next to his beloved. I will keep him from you and keep you safe my love.

     My love. With that thought Jon looked to the south and saw a silver-hair girl with a worried expression. Taine had been right Princess Daenerys was the type of girl one would wish to impress. As Jon gazed at the beautiful princess, he thought he caught the scent of Honey and Roses.

     Jon was confounded by his thoughts. Princess Daenerys was nothing to him, he did not even know her. He scolded himself for betraying a girl he may not recognise by sight but loved by scent and voice. Her sweet voice that equalled her scent. He was betraying his Honey and Roses girl by thinking such words as he looked at the princess.

     The Stag was not sure why the Champion suddenly looked hazy, but he took advantage for he knew by the words of others who had face the lad that distraction was rare and blessed with this usually focussed man. The hammer swung and slammed into the Dragon’s left shoulder; it would have shattered it if the slave actually knew how to wield the weapon properly. He could tell by the drop to his arm the shoulder was dislocated, he may survive this yet. Unfortunately, now he had all the Champion’s attention and he was wrathful, his eyes almost burned, and he growled like a true beast.

     As she saw Jon’s shoulder wrench, Daenerys felt sick. “No!” she screamed terrified for the harm he had sustained. She understood little of what such an injury meant but she knew it was a handicap that Jon could not afford.

     The princess’ exclamation jolted him back to the situation, the pain had gotten him out of the distracted state and she got him back to the don’t stop now state. He wondered absently if Rhaegar was similarly distracted during the real battle. Had the Dragon Prince died for the thoughts of a woman? Which brought his own words of earlier about women being distractions when you are fighting for your life. Still, the Girl of Honey and Roses was worth dying for and Princess Daenerys was very distracting.

     Focus Jon!

     As he weaved and slashed, spun and dodged the bigger warrior’s war hammer he remembered this. He had dreamt this so many nights during his childhood and adolescence. He remembered rushing water at his feet and around his legs, making the battle more difficult, the press of other men fighting for their lives beside him. He recalled the overwhelming fear that his efforts would not be enough, and they would not be safe, they would not escape. He recalled the need to make this end here to divert his enemy’s focus, the need to sacrifice his life to save others.

     He also remembered the feeling of devastation that he would never see them again or hold … his little ‘Lightbringer’. That ‘she’ would be alone. He understood that feeling now, as he hadn’t as a child – he feared he would never see the Girl of Honey and Roses ever, and that thought was paralysing. Which it couldn’t be, otherwise it would be prophecy.

     This must end here. And now. I must do what is necessary to end this. The difference was in his dreams he always gave up to distract his enemies push, felt crushing in his chest and head.   Not this time this time the Usurper would fall, because he was not sacrificing his life and love, he would live and fight for them with every breath and every swing of his arm and every drop of his blood. His beating heart would never stop until he was reunited with his sweet-smelling girl.

     The Stag knew exactly where Jon was for a moment as the flat of his blade slammed into the man’s back, making him arch in pain and Jon spun around in front of him to move his sword up into the Usurper’s chin. It would have been the death blow if it had been with the blade, but it was the large blue pommel stone. The pain and shock went right up his face and through his brain, causing him to hit his knees. He was exhausted and could not make his legs move under him. The Stag waited for the end.

     No one was quite sure how he managed it, perhaps in the end he was just younger and had more endurance, but even with his dislocated shoulder Jon managed to find the Usurper on his knees below his sword. He had won.

     The Stag found himself at the feet of the Champion, exhausted and heaving for breath, he felt no shame for his lost or he guessed the death that was coming for him, he had fought the Champion and now a better warrior would send him to his God. The iconic antlered helm lay in the sands where it had fallen from his head. In an ironic twist his pale almost white blonde hair shone in the sun of Meereen.

     Jon could have laughed as he stared down huffing with the exertion of the battle when he realised the slave playing the Usurper was more of the Dragon Prince’s colouring than himself, and he more of Lord Baratheon’s. However, Jon had not the build of the Storm Lord, which was probably why he was cast as the Dragon Prince.

     The crowd was chanting and screaming. Chanting for death to his bested foe. Yet, Jon stopped his sword only millimetres from the Usurper’s throat. Even with the foreign thoughts he had experienced in this battle, now the antlers were gone Jon felt none of the wrath or before. He was loath to take the man’s life for some stupid dramatics to endear a guest who was most likely more offended than honoured.

     The Champion looked to his Master’s Box. Master Wazir smiled and walked to the front of it and spread his hands wide as if asking what he should command. The crowd wanted more death and blood and Master Wazir smiled and nodded then thrust out his hands and pointed his thumbs down to indicate what Jon should do. His smile faded as the minutes passed and Jon’s blade did not move.

     Jon’s eyes were not on Master Wazir or his hands, but on a kindly faced queen who had tended his cuts when her husband was cruel. She looked to be drowning in her emotions, but his eyes stayed on her and waited for her to make contact with him. Queen Rhaella looked up and she did stare at him, gladly he noted she was not angry at him for playing his part in this travesty. She smiled and she stood to walk up to beside the Master.

     Rhaella heard the calls for death, she hated them. This mockery was unforgivable, and it tore at her to watch Jon fight a battle his father had lost. She pulled herself together because she was a queen and looked to her mostly safe grandson. He stood sword to the other man’s throat, urged by the crowd and their host to slay him, but he was just staring at her.

     She understood what her grandson was asking her. She stood and walked regally to the front of the box and looked disdainfully at the crowd and the arena, then she placed her hand on her heart and gave a short nod. She knew it was not the gesture required, but this battle, this memory belonged to her and Jon, they had lost everything last time it happened so as it was theirs, it was their gesture too.

     The queen indicated for Jon to end his opponents suffering and send him to his God. Finally given the command by the only queen he had even known, Jon turned to his opponent.

     “Your blood and your fury have blessed the sands this day,” Jon spoke quietly for this message was not for the crowd, for those who did not bleed on the sands did not understand. “Go with the blessings of your Gods for you have served them well.” The fair man smiled, for Jon no longer saw the Usurper or a Stag, only a fellow slave ready to be free.

     Jon plunged his sword blade down into the man’s chest, through his beating heart and into his heaving lungs, the death was quick and as much as it probably looked spectacular for the crowd’s blood thirst, it was not for them. War and Battle would look upon this and welcome their follower home, honour him as he had honoured them.

     As the last breath left the gladiator’s lungs, Jon wept a single tear. “Lyanna.” He whispered low. Jon had no idea where the name came from, but he felt it was part of the cryptic of this battle, he also felt a great sadness at its speaking.

     Geron heard the name and he frowned at its sound. He knew the lady as little as Jon did, though he guessed he had heard her story at least, he doubted Jon had. Still he saw the pain it brought to the young man before him and hoped one day Jon would know the story of this battle and its necessity, of the prince and his wolf-maid and the love they were said to have for each other and the sacrifice they made for Jon.

     The crowd roared in jubilation, like a thunderclap. The announcer stood to declare the end of the combat.

     “House Targaryen has defeated House Baratheon. The Dragon Prince has slain the Stag!”

     Although he felt uncomfortable with the wording of the announcement Jon raised his sword in the air, enjoying a victory for the first time. That quickly changed when the crowd started to chant ‘Targaryen’ for him. Jon almost dropped the sword as the chant became a thunderous roar and people stood on their seats, arms raised to salute him.

     “How ironic.” Geron drawled as he came forward arm outstretched. Jon looked at the arm wondering what Geron expected, he had only one good arm and it was holding his sword. He knew when Geron took his left hand and placed a gauntleted hand against his chest, then pulled his left shoulder back into alignment. Jon grunted – wanted to yell – but kept his head for the show.

     “They need to stop that.” Jon turned to Geron and watched as the white clad man punched the rising ‘Stark’ almost without thought to send him again into unconsciousness. “There are true Targaryens present. It is an insult to them, to chant that for me.”

     “They don’t seem insulted.” Geron replied calmly, raising his head to look at the box containing the mentioned Targaryen ladies.

     Jon looked up to see the queen looked relieved and somewhat… was that proud? Did Queen Rhaella look proud of him? Rhaella was relieved that Jon had survived, and she was proud of his skills and his triumph, glad he had not followed Rhaegar’s fate in the original battle.

     Jon looked at Arthur and saw definite pride on his features. Jon was glad, he knew Rhaegar had been Arthur’s best friend and he would hate for Arthur to be angry at him for any insult he felt this mockery had been for his friend.

     Then he chanced a quick glance at the princess, she seemed jubilant. Probably happy her House had triumphed in this version. He found he enjoyed his victory a little more knowing it had caused the princess to appear so very joyous.

     Then he mentally cuffed himself. He should not care what the princess thought as exquisite as she was, he had a different girl to … he wanted to make another girl joyous, wherever she was, smelling exquisite herself. His Girl of Honey and Roses, he had to believe she was just as lovely as the princess, if that were possible. Then he decided it had to be possible but only the princess could possibly be as lovely as the girl he missed visiting him so very much.

     Jon was awoken from his thoughts of beautiful girls by a new chant, one calling for the death of the last living opponent, the ‘Wolf’. Great Master Wazir moved to the front of the box beside the princess, who quickly stepped back away from the man.

     “Sword and Dragon of Winter you have brought glory to my house and you have honoured my guests as the Dragon Prince, but the crowd demands the deaths of all who oppose you! Slay the Dog!” He smiled at the crowd as they roared for more blood.

     “The crowd will be disappointed! If King Aerys could pardon Lord Stark, then I will not be lower than the Mad King. The Direwolf will live. If the crowd wishes this man dead, they must go through me to have that wish! I will not have even a false Stark slain in my presence!” The steel in Jon’s eye was as hard as the sword in his hand. The crowd quietened for a moment then chanted, ‘Dragon, Dragon, Dragon!’.

Chapter Text

     Jon knew the drill, he walked around the arena giving the crowd a chance to ‘admire’ their Champion, as the arena guards dragged the corpses off the sands. He took the opportunity as he circumnavigated the arena to collect his cloak and steed. Geron and his own steed walked beside him in the victory laps. Then Geron walked beside him to the centre of the sands for a final bow before they walked off the sands.

     Every revolution Jon felt like a heel as he glanced up at his Master’s Box, not to see Wazir but to catch a glimpse of the exquisite princess, she was at the front of the box for the first two then she was gone. She did not look angry about the mockery of her brother’s death but looked … Was she happy?

     That second turn she spun away as he passed, as if something was happening in the box she stood in but as she spun a piece of blue fabric tore on some catch and the wind blew it into the air, Jon watch the gossamer fabric float before him and land over the Dragon etched on his chest. He picked it off to look at it.

     “Have you caught a lady’s favour my prince?” Geron asked as Jon stared down at the fabric.

     “Doubtful.” Jon said thinking of whom it belonged to. He walked on, to continue his victory laps. Still feeling a tool as he balled the fabric in his fist, he had tsked over Taine and his adoration of the same girl. Jon was not being loyal to the girl he had thought of for the last six months. He should not forget her because of a pretty girl. Then he supposed if he felt badly, he had not forgotten her.

     “That was an exciting afternoon’s exercise. We should fight side by side more often.” The golden man smiled.

     “I am a slave fighter remember?” Jon said sombrely.

     “No, you are a prince remember?” Geron knew as much as he called Jon ‘king’, he was only a prince until he was returned to the king to be coronated as his grandson and heir.

     “Not anymore Geron. I am a slave again.”

     “No slave has such a fine sword or such a fine steed as your Belarion. They belong to a true prince.” Geron indicated the fine items only a prince could possess.

     “They probably actually do.” Jon had to smile at Geron’s enthusiasm. “I am confident that once we step off this sand the sword and steed will be taken off me and returned to their true owner.”

     “Don’t let them take them.” Geron said with gusto. He also knew the steed and the sword were currently with their true owner. It had not been easy to substitute the crappy versions the overseers had sourced with the mount and sword, King Aerion had sent for his grandson, Duncan. Geron hated that name, Jon was not a Duncan, his grace would see that too as soon as he met his grandson.

     “I have no choice. Once I leave the sand, I am a slave, on the sand I may rule as Champion, but off it I am nothing.”

     “You can never be nothing my king.”

     “Thank you, Geron but the fact remains. Off the sand I have no power.”

     “Then don’t step off the sands.” Geron spoke with the confidence only a free born could have.

     Jon stopped walking to stare at the mercenary, what a concept: Stay on the sands and reign supreme. Stupid as it sounded, part of Jon liked the idea. “I wish that it were possible.”

     “It is. I will fight beside you and see all these slaves …” Geron swung his hand around the arena seating, “… they may just rise up for you too.” Jon looked at the thousands of slaves still chanting for him. “You have this ability to inspire loyalty Jon. Men will sacrifice themselves for men like you, you just have to ask them.”

     “…they would follow, yes they would march from all the kingdoms. March to overthrow him, march by the thousands, to throw him down and raise me up …” Jon whispered remembering the Mad King’s rambling rant.

     “My king?” Geron was unsure where Jon was venturing with his words.

     “Someone told me once that I was a danger to his position. I disbelieved someone as lowly as me could be a challenge to an exalted man’s power. You may have just explained his fear to me.”

     “So, he should fear your destiny. Your fate is not on these sands my king, your fate lies far from here, where great lords will bend their knees as you enter. The Sword seeks the Hand; The Crown seeks the Head; and the Throne her True King seeks.”

     “Not my hand or head.” Jon found this man amusing, but in a couple of steps they would part ways and that knowledge saddened him.

     After Jon’s bloody triumph in the arena. Rhaella, Daenerys and their two knights listened as the crowd chanted for Jon. His victory was spectacular, but the emotion he incited in the people who watched him was inspiring. Daenerys was so happy that he survived she almost climbed out of the Great Master’s Box to run and embrace him, she caught herself as she leaned heavily on her hands and raised herself up with her shoulders. Sir Arthur must have worried she would vault out because he placed a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder.

     After all the emotion of the day and the anxiety of the battle it would be expected that the queen would be emotionally and mentally drained, which she was. She however had not survived years of marriage to a madman without having steel in her spine and an inferno in her soul. As the Great Master and his family rejoiced at the triumph of their Champion and their house, Rhaella fashioned within her mind a weapon to cut them off at the knees. So, she took the opportunity now in their weakened state of jubilation to make her first thrust. She steadied her emotions and set her expression to imperious distaste.

     “Great Master, you and I have matters to discuss.” Her voice was cold enough to freeze the man in place.

     “Great lady, do you not wish to partake in the celebrations of today’s victory?”

     “Firstly, I am a queen; I tire of your insult of calling me lady.” She snapped. “Secondly, no. I no longer wish to meet your Champion as arranged for at this point in festivities. I do not wish to be near you.”

     “My… Your grace, I have already arranged for my Champion to be cleaned up for his private audience with your daughter as arranged.” His voice was nervous. Daenerys’ eyes widened at his words, Jon was being cleaned up for a private audience with her, what had her mother arranged? She turned to gaze at the perfect boy, young man. Oh, what was about to be blessed upon her? “His harp is ready to bring a tear to her eye with his talent.” Daenerys exhaled her held breath. Though was slightly disappointed, it was so innocent.

     “Yes. Great Master that is the least you can do after the revelations and insults of today.” No warmth was present in the queen’s tone. “Shall we depart this disgusting place?” She stood and swept out of the box like a storm with her daughter and knights behind.

     To Jon’s surprise Geron continued to trail along next to him as they walked the labyrinth of tunnels under the arena. The white clad knight had taken the Targaryen cloak and the ‘Prince’s’ sword, attaching them to the black stallion’s saddle. He had then held his hand out to Jon as to take the steed’s reins.

     “May we meet again Belarion.” Jon said to the stallion, “Go with Geron.”

     “I will keep him for you.” Geron assured the black clad man as he took the reins and refused point blank to hand them over to any overseer, even upon request. Some thought to press it and were welcomed by the mercenary drawing his still blood sheathed sword. “My king does not require your services. I will take charge of his needs now. Be off with you.”

     Jon’s pace slowed as he approached the corpse of a slave killed on the sands. The once tall, dark haired handsome Westerosi man, Taine, was only a broken form and a torn apart face. Jon had felt this would be his cellmate’s fate, but it still saddened him to see his companion in such a state, such a waste of a life.

     He headed back towards his interim cell, usually in the chaos after an event it took several hours for the overseers to transport him back to his cell in the Great Master’s pyramid. He didn’t really mind it was strangely more peaceful awaiting transport as the usual ‘women’ fans did not lower themselves to descending into the actual pits. Sometimes if the Great Master had special guests Jon would be trotted out after the combat to meet them and have the ladies flutter eyelashes at him or scan him far too closely for his liking. He guessed the only reason he had not been ‘presented’ to the Targaryen ladies was the insult of the combat and that they already knew who he was, so did not wish to meet the Champion for either of those reasons.

     “Wrong way, Dragon.” An overseer barked at him.

     Perhaps he was wrong, but he had seen Queen Rhaella leave in a hurry. Had seen her take her guards and beautiful daughter with her. Stop it Jon! She is a princess and you have a Girl of Honey and Roses to think about. Except he wasn’t sure he did, was she waiting somewhere for his return, most likely not. Most likely betrothed to some stupid fool who didn’t deserve her.

     “What is with this ‘Dragon’ thing, I keep telling you all I’m more a Direwolf than a Dragon.”

     “Why my king can you not be both?” Geron asked.

     “How am I a Dragon in anyway?” Jon was mystified by this obsession people had with aligning him with Dragons. He understood that apparently he had some brand or birthmark on his right shoulder that had started it all, but he didn’t remember receiving. Still nothing else about him gave credence to the Meereenese need to label him with it.

     “Well-l.” Geron paused with a raised eyebrow looking him up and down. Jon looked at his armour emblazoned with the Targaryen three headed red Dragon, rolled his eyes and threw his head back in an annoyed plea to the Gods to deliver him from this idiocy. “You did just win the Battle of the Trident, Dragon Prince.”

     “I am not the Dragon Prince. The Dragon Prince was Rhaegar Targaryen and he lost the battle. I should know his insane father tortured me about it my entire life.” This whole situation was beginning to make Jon’s usual cool demeanour change as his blood started to boil.

     “Are we getting hot under the collar my king?” Geron was finding this amusing, his voice could not hide it. Though with many people mocking caused an escalation of anger, in Jon it defused it. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

     “Maybe Sir Geron you are correct. Maybe I have a drop of Dragon in me and it was just getting the better of my cool Direwolf mind. I should get the armour off before I totally lose my cool.”

     “Your master probably doesn’t want you sprouting wings and flying off.” Geron laughed.

     “How hard do you think I need concentrate for that?” Jon smiled widely. “Still if I don’t wish to start breathing fire, I had better get the armour off and cool my mind.”

     “We are Westerosi, my king. You are born of the frozen North. We both know Dragon’s don’t only come in the fire variety.” These was no hilarity in his voice.

     “Actually Geron, I was born in Dorne and never been further north than King’s Landing. I am no Northerner.”

     “Is that so Jon Snow?” Geron made a fair point.

     “I can’t explain that.” Jon said tiredly. Then a thought came forward in his mind. “How do you know my name is Snow?”

     Geron’s features split in a broad smile. “You just confirmed it.” Jon didn’t like the answer and his face said so, mainly because it was no real answer. “No, I already knew before volunteering to aid you today. I am Westerosi remember? I know you are blood of The North. I know your family petition the Mad King every year for your release and safe passage to them. I know you have a Direwolf waiting for you in Westeros, given as a gift to you by your family, snuck in for you by the queen. I probably know more of the truth of you, than you do.” Jon wanted to bombard Geron with questions.

     “Why aren’t you moving slave!?” The overseer yelled, loosening his whip from his belt. Jon looked at him annoyed but followed knowing the man would never actually whip him for fear of his own skin. Geron however did not have that knowledge and his eyes went cold and he pulled his sword from his scabbard.

     “You dare threaten Ry… Jon Targaryen.” His voice held menace enough to turn the overseer to stone staring at him and then at Jon.

     “Dragon?” The overseer’s voice was small, and he seemed to be asking Jon to save him from the mercenary.

     “It’s Jon Snow, and he actually wouldn’t dare.” Jon’s voice was calm and cooling. He patted the overseer’s arm to reassure him and placed his other hand on Geron’s wrist, indicating for him to put his sword away. “How about you take care of Balerion for me, I may need a fast horse later to escape some over-friendly ladies.” An infectious smile spread across his face.

     “Of course, my Lord.” Geron put his sword away but did not lower his eyes from the overseer, he wanted the man to understand only because it was Jon’s will, did the man live. Reluctantly he parted with the dark-haired man.

     Arthur walked behind his queen and princess, ensuring the royals he could protect were protected. He chanced a quick sideways glance at Barristan, that was going to be an intense conversation. Sooner or later this was all bound to be revealed but how much?

     Arthur thought of another princess for a moment, one trapped across the Narrow Sea. Wondered how Elia was fairing alone with Aerys. Elia was as much a victim as Jon was in this mess of House Targaryen – okay maybe not as much as Jon, she did bear some burden of fault. She had hopes of escaping the Dragons and having peace, but nothing had gone as Rhaegar had planned.

     Those plans failed because Rhaegar had never suspected that Robert maybe a Baratheon, but that his Dragon blood had made him as prone to madness as King Aerys. A different madness, but still madness. Lyanna had seen it, had told Arthur of her fear of it for Rhaegar when he went to face Robert. She had wept for Cersei Lannister when she heard she was to replace herself as Robert’s wife. Lyanna had thanked the Northern Gods when Robert was captured in King’s Landing and Cersei was saved from him.

He is mad Arthur, he is cruel and mad. No woman who refuses him is safe from his fury.

     But Elia. When Rhaegar died and Elia was not free she had wept for weeks, but that may be because soon after Jaime Lannister attempted to assassinate Aerys and lost his head, making Aerys shut in his family. To save herself and her children, it had been Elia who told Aerys where to find Lyanna. He knew she bore great guilt that Jon’s life was tortured because of her self-preservation.

     Arthur had simply left his House’s words behind, never would he be sworn to House Martell. He did not hate Elia, for he knew it was her brothers that cursed her and her children. Her brothers that took her son from his cradle in the night and replaced him with another, only telling her when she voiced a concern for a change in her babe days after.

     Arthur bore his own shame for Elia’s pain, for she had no idea there had been two. Rhaegar had not condoned the loyalists taking ‘Aegon’ into hiding, but the child had burned hot, even as he grew he had a terror of a temper. However, the strangest salve was, to calm him all you needed to do was talk about Jon and Rhaegar and Elia’s first-born son would become placid – their only actual child.

     Thinking of the mess of the Targaryen lineage made Arthur wonder if Gerold knew where they were. If he had followed instruction and stayed in Dorne or broken them and went to King’s Landing. Arthur had told him to refuse Aerys command and rescind his agreement, return to Dorne and he had sulkily got on his horse and ridden home. Arthur wondered if Gerold had turned around once he left for Essos.

     Darkstar had little love of Elia, had wanted Lyanna to be his mother, but he was fiercely protective of her. Maybe his love of his true family would calm his tempest like talk of Jon calmed him. Or Darkstar would just burn the world and laugh. He wasn’t heartless, he was just apathetic to a world that caused such a fucked-up family situation. Sometimes Arthur was glad that Elia had not had to weather that Dragon.

     Well, if Darkstar had ignored Arthur and returned to King’s Landing, then he was Aerys problem for adding kindling to that bonfire. Aerys own fault for stealing the babe from its mother’s arms when she was so ill, she didn’t know she had even given birth to two sons instead of one. Aerys should have let her keep one. And made sure Doran and Oberyn did not take that one away.

     “Arthur, what are you doing with my son?”

     “Rhaegar I…”

     “He is a kingsguard, and he is following the command of his king.” Aerys had glowered from behind them. As he approached to look the child over, there it was on his left shoulder, a dragon and an orb, he was not the one. Not the one, but Rhaegar’s. “Take him away. I will keep one safe from these monsters we call my lords.”

     “Father.” Arthur saw Aerys flinch at Rhaegar’s word.

     “I have seen the other, it is the Myrish man’s.” Rhaegar’s head dropped. “Pretend and I won’t kill them all as traitors. You need a better wife. I liked the nerve of that girl of Rickard Stark’s who wore armour.”

     “Stay away from Lyanna.” Rhaegar growled at his father, which surprised Arthur, Rhaegar did not lose his cool, but then Lyanna had ignited a flame in him, Rhaegar was in-love. Tragic love but love. For now, Arthur must save the only trueborn child Rhaegar would even possibly have.

     “Sir Dayne, are you alright?” The princess asked concerned for the expression he wore. Arthur smiled, the princess deserved a husband without a question mark over his head about whether he was actually who he thought he was. Her heart was so gentle and kind, she deserved to have the one prince everyone who knew of him, knew exactly who he was. Jon was Rhaegar’s son and there was no question to who his parents were. Elia had so many hidden and pretend Aegons she might need to sew their names onto their feet or chests.

     “Of course. We better have those girls make you even more perfect for the Black Cell Boy.” She blushed and nodded. At least Jon and Daenerys were not complicated, they just loved the simple existence of the other, even if they didn’t know for certain who the other was, what they knew they loved.

     Jon was taken to be bathed, alone in a steaming giant tub attended by four very giggly girl slaves who happily scrubbed all the grim, sand and blood off him. They tenderly attended to his wounds and even washed his hair and trimmed it and his beard, he didn’t let them shave him or cut too much off his hair. They then dried his hair as he insisted on drying himself, himself.

     They brought out a fine set of clothes, noble-type garments. He was starting to get concerned with all the fussing. However even in this Jon managed to show his defiant streak, while the girls watched horrified he took the scissors they used to cut his dark curls to cut the sleeves off his new black doublet – it was a very well made garment so he figured it wouldn’t harm it in the long term.

     The girls chortled about how the black trousers and white long-sleeved shirt did in fact look more handsome with the newly sleeveless doublet – really a vest now. He had to admire the quality of the clothes; he’d never wore such fine garments; especially the boots. Jon made himself a promise, he’d be keeping the boots.

     Still the degree of preening was a bit of a worry. Jon was aware that pit fighters were not only used to fight but also to fulfil other services to ‘appreciative’ female fans, who paid their masters for the ‘privilege’ of spending time with the fighters. The Great Master was sorely mistaken if he thought Jon would ‘perform’ that service for his purse.

     Jon accompanied the seneschal along the corridors and was pleasantly surprised when around one corner he was met by Geron still wearing his Sir Barristan costume.

     “You truly are looking like a prince, my king.” Geron smiled and assessed Jon’s appearance approvingly. “Where are we headed?”

     “We don’t know. It does cause me apprehension that this is the required costume though.” Jon answered lightly.

     “Not a costume, my king. A true representation of your station shown in cloth.”

     “Geron could you possibly stop with the ‘My King’ thing, it is a false statement of my status.”

     “Of course, as you wish my prince.”

     “Geron how is that better or different even?” Jon laughed; he was really starting to like this man.

     “There is a great difference between a king and a prince, my prince.” Geron stated matter-of-factly. “Would you like me to explain?”

     “No. How about we be honest and stop calling me either.”

     “Would that really be honest?”

     “Yes, it would, because I am neither.”

     “So, you say Jon. Not to be rude to you but what would you know about it? Honestly.” Geron’s voice was solemn. “You have been locked in a cell of one type or another, struggling to survive and remain sane your entire life. What do you actually know of the world outside your bars? Only what is told to you. What if your teachers lied to you?”

     “Did they?” He asked with a note of uncertainity.

     “For the most part probably not. Until you hear another person’s version you will never know for certain.” Geron’s eyes started to shine as he smiled. “Now however is not the time for all this intrigue. Now is the time to discover what our next adventure is to be.” He winked at Jon and sped his pace to bring him in front of the seneschal, stopping abruptly to block the man’s path. “Where are you leading my lord, slave?” He sounded every bit a superior nobleman.

     “The Champion has a private audience with our honoured guest Princess Daenerys ‘Stormborn’ of House Targaryen.” Jon was stunned, so stunned he stopped moving. An audience with the girl in the Master’s Box today, he couldn’t even contemplate that concept.

     Geron raised an eyebrow and a mischievous smile played on his lips. “Lucky you.” He said staring at Jon. “A private audience with a gloriously attractive princess. I wonder what the queen has paid for you to do … with her daughter.” Jon couldn’t imagine the queen he had known paying anything for him to be doing with her daughter, he swallowed hard and felt terribly low. Strangely the thought came to him, what would the Girl of Honey and Roses think of him?

     “She has paid nothing.” The Senechal snapped. “The Master has offered freely the service.”

     Geron frowned. “Freely. Probably means not fun.” Jon breathed more easily at the thought.

     “The Champion will show her one of his other skills” The man smiled in a self-satisfied way, turning to Jon he continued. “You will be playing the harp for her enjoyment. Nothing more.” Jon smiled at the simplicity and innocence of the task.

     “Then why did he have to look so pretty?”

     “As not to offend her eyes and nose. Also …” The seneschal crouched a little as he paused making the two young men lean in to hear his whispered words. “...the master offended the Lady Rhaella greatly with the theme of the mock battle today.”

     “Having been in that mock battle today, it wasn’t very ‘mock’ from where The Champion and I stood. You house slaves and Masters should try getting a bit of blood on you, might cause you to not love the fighting pits so much.”

     “I told you it was offensive to House Targaryen.” Jon stated standing back.

     “We must not keep the princess waiting Champion. You, are not required or invited.” He spoke directly to Geron.

     “Regardless I will stand guard outside for my prince’s protection.” The seneschal just glared at the Golden man but did not dare oppose him.

     It only took them a few minutes to get to the doors of the rooms where apparently the princess waited to be entertained by Jon’s skill with a harp. The eunuchs opened the doors and Jon walked in hoping he did not look as nervous as he felt.

Chapter Text

     Aerys had word Rhaella had found Jon, his day had started well with good news, he felt nothing could bring him down. He was wrong because Varys brought him a list of petitioners for the day and Princess Elia’s brothers were on it.

     “The Princess will be accompanying them.” Varys said softly.

     The audience with the Martells was private, it had to be, what if someone went crazy? What if someone other than Aerys went crazy? He watched the princes walk in and the princess behind them, with her shadow. When Sir Dayne said he would protect Elia he had not hesitated to become her shadow, she was rarely without him.

     The procession irked Aerys. Why were those two pompous arses walking ahead of their sister? She had seniority. He gazed at Sir Gerold as he walked head up and with no glimpse of fear. Maybe Rhaegar had been right. Maybe he had balled his fists and succeeded at giving Elia one saving grace.

     Aerys did not make the audience or discussion easy. Doran thought now she was free, that Rhaenys could be wed to his son Prince Quintin. Aerys said over Doran’s daughter Arianne’s dead body, he was not giving Dorne anymore power or relation to his throne. Oberyn pushed like the little punk who never grew up that he was, and Aerys instantly dissolved Viserys’ betrothal to Princess Arianne.

     Though Doran already had plans to wed her to Aegon the Black, he pulled his brother into line quickly. They were trying to gain more hold on the throne not to lose it all. The king refused to even accept the apology that would see Viserys marry Arianne. No, Viserys would find another bride; to Doran’s distaste he started speaking of the beauty of the daughter of House Tyrell. The message was heard by Doran: I will take your advantage and give it to your enemies.

     Worse still, Aerys mumbled about why not change all the betrothals. He started talking about Lord Robb Stark and mentioned but quickly disregarded Lord Theon Greyjoy for Daenerys. There were other names, but the mention of Direwolf blood adding its strength to the Dragon House, stopped all words from the Martells.

     “Where would the most accessible Direwolf son be?” Aerys mused to the air to scare the Martells.

     “Meereen, I hear.” Sir Gerold Dayne said quickly. “Isn’t that where our beautiful queen and exquisite princess are presently?” Normally Gerold would not use the word exquisite for a girl, but Jon had decided on it. Gerold gazed out the window behind the king. When did I start knowing what he was thinking? Must be the Blood.

     “Yes, they are.” Aerys said with excitement. “I never even thought about that one. You know I missed such an opportunity. I should have kept him and married Daenerys off to him instead.”

     “You declared Princess Daenerys would marry my nephew, Prince Aegon.” Oberyn reminded the king.

     Aerys grinned down at the Dornish prince. “I said, and I quote. My daughter, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, will marry Aegon Targaryen, to be the Sixth of his Name. Crown Prince Rhaegar’s son and heir.”

     “Exactly.” Oberyn glared at the madman.

     “Would you prefer I specified him by the name he called himself?” Aerys grinned down at the Dornishman. “Jon Snow. Even if he calls himself Jon, I know he is Aegon, so you see…” Aerys paused. “You misinterpreted of whom I spoke.”

     “Well, at least that is what he is likely to say, even if it is a lie.” Gerold shrugged.

     “You are sworn to House Martell. Do not help him.” Oberyn hissed.

     “No, I am sworn to Princess Elia, to protect her like she was my own mother.” Gerold smiled happily.

     “House Dayne’s words are ‘Sworn to Martell’.” The Red Viper snapped.

     “Maybe your wife Lady Cersei is right. I could be adopted; I am not a Dayne.” Gerold saw Aerys stiffen. “Or it could just be I dislike you. Therefore, give no fucks about helping you.”

     “My point, do not test me, the throne is still mine while I live. I can take all your power away. Don’t make me like the Direwolf over the Sun and Spear. As to Rhaenys. She chooses her husband not you.”

     “Thank you.” Elia spoke before her brothers.

     Aerys whole demeanour changed. “How does her search go?”

     “She has found no one yet, she sent invitations to the Great Houses, and many Dornish Houses.” Oberyn smiled too quickly for Aerys liking.

     “I see.” Aerys growled.

     “She has only had one reply she liked, though many replies.”

     “Who was that?” Oberyn grinned. Even if House Martell was on the out with Aerys his own words could tie the throne more to Dorne.

     “A young man, presently in the capital.” Elia was loath to name the young lord. “She only invited him because he was already here, and she was disappointed with the other Lords who she met.”

     “Which House does he hail from?” Doran wondered why Elia looked so hesitant.

     “A good and strong House with much wealth and power.”

     Aerys stared at his good-daughter, what was her problem? Then because he was mad not stupid, he understood. “What region of The Reach is his House in?” Both the Dornish princes glared at their sister.

     “House… It is funny, you were just speaking of Houses in The Reach and Lady Margery Tyrell.”

     “Oh, my granddaughter likes Willas Tyrell’s reply.” It was not that Aerys was more cluey; he had just had an audience with the young lord yesterday. He liked him, well as much as one can like a sensible and intelligent lord who was as treacherous as the rest of them. Much smarter than his father Lord Mace. Less caustic than his grandmother, Lady Olenna. “I never knew how much I could adore that girl.” He was beginning to really adore her, why had he not gotten to know her earlier? Shut up, Rickard. He hated it when Rickard gave him the ‘I told you so’ look.

     “Yes.” She sighed heavily, not that she had a problem with it all, for she had experienced Rhaenys’ frustration at all these lords, she was telling her mother King Aerys’ cloistering had saved her from previously. She just knew her brothers would be lecturing her and Rhaenys about it for hours.

     “We must discuss this.” Oberyn pulled on Elia’s arm.

     “I would not be touching the woman I am protecting like my own mother like that, Viper.” Gerold half drew his sword.

     “Sir Hightower, please escort my good-daughter to my granddaughter and bring both of them to my solar as I wish to discuss this with them.” He waved his hand at Elia. “I must speak with Lord Dayne, could you ensure his warning is upheld.”

     “Of course.” Sir Gerold Hightower went to present his arm to the princess and escort her away, her brothers followed. Once the doors were closed and Aerys threatened Varys with tarring and boiling if he didn’t clear out his ‘little birds’ until this meeting was done. Aerys stared down at the relaxed knight.

     “Arthur, what are you doing with my son?”

     “Rhaegar I…”

     “He is a kingsguard, and he is following the command of his king.” Aerys had glowered from behind them. As he approached to look the child over, there it was on his left shoulder, a dragon and an orb, he was not the one. Not the one, but Rhaegar’s. “Take him away. I will keep one safe from these monsters we call my lords.”

     “Father.” Aerys flinched at Rhaegar’s word. The child disproved that title, he was no more Rhaegar’s father than Rhaegar was that whelp beside Elia or his little dark daughter’s.

     “I have seen the other, it is the Myrish man’s.” Rhaegar’s head dropped. “Pretend and I won’t kill them all as traitors. You need a better wife. I liked the nerve of that girl of Rickard Stark’s who wore armour.”

     “Stay away from Lyanna.” Rhaegar growled at his father, Aerys was not surprised, he had seen Rhaegar’s reaction to the Stark girl. The duty-bound prince had fallen in love and Aerys was sure his father would let him have it. Aerys however had proof now that he wasn’t Rhaegar’s father and a fear came upon him. If Aerion ever discovered… If Rhaegar ever discovered… He needed the babe with the Dragon, Orb and Sword on its right shoulder, and he needed it soon. Aerys would let Rhaegar have his Wolf-girl, so he could have his ultimate Dragon King.

     There was ten minutes of silence, and no movement. “Well, great talk. Catch up later?” Gerold bowed slightly and turned.

     “What do you prefer to be called?” Gerold turned back at the king’s words.

     “Darkstar.”

     “Why?”

     “Then I don’t have to choose between Aegon and Aemon, or some other Targaryen name. Frees Aegon up for Jon, though I doubt he wants it.”

     “Why are you so loyal to people you have never known?”

     “Because they are family and Sir Arthur taught me to be like my father, not the rest of the realm.”

     “Protect her like she was my own mother?” Aerys gazed steadily at the young man, perhaps it was Rickard staring out talking to the knight.

     “Why did you give me this detail?”

     “It amused me.” It had; the thought Elia’s one true prince so close but never knowing who he was. The ability to sweep the rug from beneath her with that truth.

     “I wish Lady Lyanna had been my mother, but she wasn’t.” Gerold saw the confusion. “You know more than people think your grace, but you don’t know everything. I do not even try to understand how everything is. Your father, Jaeherys did as he thought to strengthen House Targaryen, but he did not know what he was messing with or in. The Northern Dragons… their blood is strong; it is also powerful in ways your father did not understand. We feel it, in others, we bond closely. I know Jon is my brother. I know Rhaenys is my sister; Elia my mother. The boy with Jon Connington, shared a womb but not a father with me. Aerion is coming for Jon, do not hinder him. Don’t mess with my mother, I will burn you.”

     “Maybe I should marry Daenerys to you and declare you heir, as first-born…”

     Gerold snorted. “I don’t want your daughter and I don’t want your throne. Let the sons Elia knows of, fight over it, I just want to protect my family and spend time in their presence. We all don’t crave power.”

     “None, of you seem to.” Aerys huffed. “You are right I learnt what my father failed to check. Your blood is different, maybe my cousin and her witch blood is to blame.”

     “Northern Dragons, Jaeherys should have done his research.” He really should have. “It is not grandmother’s fault or because her mother was Jenny of Oldstones. Jaeherys should not have tempted fate by stealing Prince Valian.”

     “How do you know his true name?”

     “The Blood, your father really was a fool to mess in the Old Magic of The North. I have no interest in betraying you so long as you stop torturing my family members. Which do not include the Martell princes by the way.”

     “You are as fascinating as ... Jon.” Aerys smirked.

     Darkstar turned to leave. “You will not tell my mother or sister who I am.”

     “I am king.”

     “You are old and just because Jon was benevolent, does not mean I am.” Gerold really wasn’t as just as his little brother and right now Gerold would burn House Targaryen and Martell down to finally have his little brother with him.

     By the time Gerold got back to Princess Elia she was receiving a lecture about acceptable husbands for Rhaenys, Rhaenys was glaring hatred at her uncles and her aunt Cersei had crossed the floor to stand slightly ahead of Elia.

     “You have no right.” Cersei growled like a lioness. “You twist this family and its members up in convoluted political schemes and give no care to the people you gut to make your plans happen.” Elia was surprised Cersei had come to her defence.

     “Rhaenys, maybe Uncles have a point.” Aegon did not like conflict, he was not made for it in truth. Darkstar hoped Young Griff had more guts than this imposter.

     “Aegon. Is this because…” Rhaenys asked without asking, they shared a look and Darkstar wondered what his ‘siblings’ had been up to shut away from the world.

     “No.” Aegon answered quickly before any one of the adults caught onto their dalliance.

     “Well, all I was doing was meeting people. I did not say I was going to marry him.” She hadn’t even seen Lord Tyrell.

     “Which she should do.” Gerold added. Fuel the fire.

     “What business is it of yours, knight?” Oberyn was having a bad day.

     “Whoa.” Gerold backed up and made enough distance to do this.

     “Darkstar.” Sir Hightower knew Darkstar had a temper, knew it could not be helped, it was his nature. It had taken many years and lessons from various men for Rhaegar to calm his tempest completely. Always he was calmer than Darkstar, but he had bouts of inferno. Difference was Rhaegar had wanted to cool his fire, Darkstar wanted to dance in it.

     “Do not worry old Gerold, I will not incinerate him.” Gerold ‘junior’ said with a chuckle.

     “Take the ladies to their rooms, there will be no more discussion about the princess’ invitations. The King has decreed she will not be arranged to be wed. So, your highnesses will have to …” Sir Hightower laid down the law.

     “Suck it up.” When the elder Gerold growled, the younger shrugged. “I was trying to help.”

     “I doubt you are ever trying to help.”

     “Hey, I am a little boy with no Mummy, Aerys gave me Princess Elia to love and protect like she was my own. They were mean to her.”

     “Just go, Darkstar.” He did with the ladies in tow, he even stole Lady Cersei.

     Sir Hightower gave one last piece of advice to the Dornish princes. “If he whipped his own grandson to near death because he falsely believes he will try to usurp his throne, what do you think he will do to you two?”

     “Thank you Gerold.” Rhaenys spoke quietly as they got to her mother’s apartments.

     “You are most welcome, just doing what a brother should do with his sister.” Two princesses shared a confounded glance. “Because I am protecting Princess Elia like she were my own mother. Not because I wish to do some lurid act with you.” Rhaenys looked very uncomfortable, had Gerold caught her and Aegon out? “Just contemplating what you Targaryens are famous for, how would I know what you do?” Though he guessed now.

     “Do not be crass, Darkstar.” Lady Cersei had no suspicions about her niece and nephew, though she probably didn’t guess Aegon was not really her nephew.

     What a fucking mess. Targaryen incest was nothing compared to this mess with all the frellin’ Aegons. Gerold knew he was technically Aegon, but he practically didn’t give a shit.

     “Well, I have no plans to marry my brother.” Rhaenys really did not. She wanted out, not further in. It had been a desperation, she should be married with children, not still in her home castle. Not to have children, she ensured that never happened, but to not feel ugly and unlovable and well, to keep Aegon off Daenerys.

     “Why?” Gerold thought he heard something behind her refusal. Had that little imposter hurt his sister? He would remove unneeded parts of the little shit.

     “Should I wish to have an incestuous relationship?” She asked offended.

     “No. You just sounded, well, extra averse.” Gerold stared at her critically.

     “Don’t you have an Arianne to go molest?” Rhaenys snarked.

     Well, yes, he had done that once and he found it untenable to be honest. Other than his mother and sister and the Daynes, Gerold found little use for Dornish people. Especially Martells. They shot down Meraxes, he wanted to put a harpoon through them.

     “Arianne is currently acclimatising to marrying Viserys.” Cersei informed her niece.

     “Good luck to him,” Gerold said as he led the ladies through the door.” He will frellin’ need it that girl is salivating to be queen. Gerold decided he needed to ensure no one died for Arianne’s ambition. He liked the woman, but she had Martell ambitions. He hated Martell ambitions.

     “Can we please not talk in this fashion.” Elia was over it all, right now she was tired of it beyond measure.

     “Of course.” They all agreed. Elia had enough to endure with her brothers and the king.

     “So, when do you plan to meet this Tyrell fellow?” Gerold decided to change the subject. “Will Aegon be doing the ‘don’t dishonour my sister’ thing? If not, did you want me to warn him off being a cad.”

     “His letter did not seem as if he would be a cad.” Rhaenys had been quite impressed with the eloquence of his letter and the unassuming content. Most of the replies had been written as if Rhaenys was lucky to have written them. Lord Willas had not assumed he was a catch for her, he was polite and asked for information about her. He informed – warned he said – that he was crippled; his leg had been damaged in a riding accident as a child.

     Was it silly? She had also liked the appearance of his handwriting, it looked lordly. It was beautiful to see, and she had followed all the curves around the page. Such a beautiful hand. Most Maesters wrote practically, so to see a fine script was rare. To simply receive a second letter, she had replied to some of his questions and asked more of him.

     His second letter had ended with a jest, at least she hoped it was a jest. He asked her to please not tell his grandmother Lady Olenna he was corresponding with her as the Lady would disown him and have his title of Heir to Highgarden striped from him, tossing him onto the streets to be an urchin. She guessed due to her Dornish heritage and the animosity between their two regions.

     She sent a quick note to say she had never even spoken to his grandmother, so was unlikely to spill her secrets to her. She hoped he thought it witty. Maybe as she thought about it, she was a little more invested in this lord than she was portraying.

     “Let me know. I am happy to flash a little steel to keep him in line.” Gerold saw Rhaenys did not like his suggestion at all. She looked concerned, was it for his desire to stand for her, or was it because she did not want Willas Tyrell scared off?

     “That will not be necessary.” She walked away angry.

     That was probably for the best, Gerold thought. He had noticed Arianne was acclimatising to marrying Viserys by visiting Aegon at night. The Martells were more incestuous than the Targaryens. This is why I want to be a Stark.

Chapter Text

     Daenerys sat on what she was sure was supposed to be a luxuriously opulent pillowed chair, all she felt was as if it was about to swallow her. She fidgeted with a tassel on a corner of one of the pillows that were part of the chair.

     She had been bathed to remove the sand and perspiration from her – and stench of death in her opinion – from a day watching the games. Her dress was just as gorgeous but Targaryen red and gold. Sir Arthur said she looked as breath-taking as when she had attended the games that day, but she worried Jon would not agree.

     What if he thought her plain in fancy clothing? Why was what he thought so important to her, she should wish to look beautiful for her betrothed. Daenerys realised she had not even thought about Aegon once – seriously - since she had heard her mother say Jon’s name, revealing they were in Essos to find him. Should her thoughts not be with the man that would be her husband not with a man she hardly knew?

     Then the doors opened and Aegon Targaryen ceased to exist in Daenerys’ world as Jon stepped into the room. She was not confident that she was breath-taking but he definitely was. Dressed in fine but simple clothes. Black leather boots laced to almost his knees over well fitted black trousers: a black vest that looked to be made of a heavier woollen material over a pure white cotton long loose sleeved shirt, cuffed simply at the wrists, he wore no gloves.

     His once scruffy beard had been neatly trimmed and his glorious black curls fell to just brush his shoulders, he looked every inch a lord or prince, and Daenerys felt her head go light as he looked at her with his beautiful dark eyes. His face as always was handsomely set with a serious expression.

     He bowed his head towards her, causing a curl of black hair to fall in front of his right eye as he straightened. It took all of her inner strength to remain seated and not rush to him and brush it away, that and she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up to even stand. She must have made a soft gasp as Sir Dayne cleared his throat softly to remind her that she must control her reactions. So, all she did was nod in return.

     As Jon raised his head, his eyes met Sir Arthur’s and he smiled broadly, his joy was evident as even his dark eyes shone with it, and as desperately as he wanted to run up and hug the closest person he’d ever had to a guardian or even a father, he knew it was not appropriate.

     So, he searched the room with his eyes for his harp and walked over and picked it up. Strumming the strings softly to take his head out of the events of the day, away from death and blood. He still had pain in his shoulder, but it faded with his stress and floated away with the music.

     After a few minutes he found his peace and sat down on a chair across the small room from the princess. He cautiously looked at her as he set himself up to play. She was truly a sight to behold, the picture of Targaryen beauty, with her hair of spun silver, her delicate pale looking skin and perfectly created face, that the Gods must have wept to allow her to leave them.

     She was as exquisite as he imagined the Girl of Honey and Roses to be. Jon frowned as he thought of her, he missed the scent that wafted around her and lingered for hours after she had departed – where was she now? Did she miss him as he missed the scent of her? He shook his head slightly to refocus himself.

     He was in a room with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he was supposed to play his harp and make her happy. So, he played his harp, with all the dexterity the Gods had gifted his fingers and wondered absently why she kept looking at her hands as they sat in her lap.

     Daenerys watched as Jon’s eyes met Sir Arthur’s and noted the love and joy, she saw there and wished he had looked like that at her. Would he if he knew she was his Girl of Honey and Roses? She had thought him the most handsome young man when he was solemn, but a happy Jon was incomparable in its divine beauty.

     Then she realised what she had just thought: his girl, she’d thought of herself as his just as she had thought of him as ‘hers’. It was all too much for the young princess, she stared down at her hands as she folded them in her lap so her eyes could not betray her to this wonder of a boy, who she was now quite certain she was falling in love with, if she hadn’t already completed the journey.

     The music he played brought a tear to her eye in its beauty. To think only hours previous those hands that made such sweet sounds had held a sword and was spilling his opponents’ blood. How had he been cursed to be capable of creating such profoundly lovely peaceful music, but his life had always been so ugly and such a struggle? How had his soul remained untainted by his circumstance?

     Jon was enjoying the time of rest and escape from the harshness of his life, but he was meant to be playing for the princess and he felt at a loss to see her finding any comfort or enjoyment in his efforts. She did not react at all, just stared at her hands, her head down, she did not speak or make any sound at all. Either he was not useful and should not be here or she should not be here. Finally, in his frustration at the futility of it he spoke.

     “Does her highness have any requests? I have been taught most of the Westerosi songs, I could play your favourite”

     She said nothing, just shook her head. So, he stopped playing and put the instrument down. Folded his hands in his lap started to stare at them in silence, wondering what he was supposed to do.

     Sir Arthur Dayne almost laughed at the scene; the pale princess almost perfectly mirrored by the dark lord. Both staring at their hands too afraid to look at each other. They couldn’t look more awkward if someone had just introduced them and told them they would be wed in an hour, so get to know one another; the thought made the knight smile, he had known them both their entire lives and two kinder hearts were never made – or two stronger heads –the two young nobles would make a perfect couple.

     Then he frowned knowing Daenerys was bound to her nephew Aegon in marriage – a marriage which would not bring her true happiness. He absently wondered which Aegon it was supposed to be, King Aerys thought Jon was also an Aegon. Arthur blinked as the implications of that sank into his reasoning. Surely not the boy. However, Westeros and Crown Prince Aegon Targaryen – all except Jon - were a long way away and anything could happen in Essos, so Sir Arthur set a fire.

    “Daenerys,” Sir Arthur broke the silence, the two young people looked at him. “As we have an interval in the music, perhaps you can update young Jon on Ghost’s health.” Daenerys looked shocked the kingsguard had revealed she had knowledge of the Direwolf. Jon looked surprised that the princess even knew Ghost existed, but the thought of his beloved Ghost made him bold.

     “You know about Ghost.” Jon directed his entire attention on the girl, staring at her expectantly, willing her to speak. The pleading look in his eyes loosened her lips. How could she deny him?

     “A giant white wolf is hard to miss.” Daenerys smiled as she looked at him, but as she spoke, his expression changed from curiosity to one of sudden recognition. She remembered instantly why she had wanted to avoid talking to him, her hands flew to cover her offending mouth.

     Jon was aghast as he recognised the voice of the princess as the sweet voice of his Girl of Honey and Roses. He mentally chided himself not his girl, this was the princess. His heart sank a little at the revelation; his dream of freedom and finding the Girl of Honey and Roses was shattered.

     You are a naïve idiot, Jon.

     His face wore a mask of devastation and Daenerys’ soon mirrored it as she thought her identity was abhorrent to him. Sir Arthur almost rolled his eyes at the melodrama that could be about to play out.

     “Her highness, Princess Daenerys and I have been making sure he gets exercise.” Jon eyes left Daenerys for a second, which gave her time to calm her emotions, then his eyes returned to her, but a grateful look was replacing the previous horrified expression.

     Daenerys smiled coyly. “He loves running in the Kingswood. It is not easy to sneak him out, but we have gotten very good at it,” Her voice held some pride at the achievement. “He is a giant white wolf after all. When we can’t get him out, we make sure he is well fed with the best meat.” Daenerys watched Jon’s eyes brighten and an incredible smile spread across his face as she spoke of his Direwolf. She frowned slightly with her next words, “He misses you terribly, I thought he would just lay down and die after you left but Sir Dayne said we should not give up on him. We had to take care of him for you. It wasn’t easy hiding him from the rest of the Keep, especially my father. I could not bear the thought of my father finding him, so before we left for Essos, Sir Dayne released him into the Kingswood and contacted someone to watch over him.”

     “Who?” Jon asked looking at Sir Dayne.

     “Your uncle.” Sir Dayne’s voice was matter-of-fact. Jon looked at Arthur with a confused look on his face.

     “My uncle?” Jon wasn’t aware he had an uncle.

     “Yes, your uncle. The man who brought Ghost to the Red Keep as a cub. He travelled down from The Wall to watch your Direwolf.”

     “The Wall?” Jon knew the name; it was the architectural wonder on the edge of the ‘civilised’ world in the far north of Westeros. The seat of the Brothers of The Night’s Watch. “My uncle is a black brother.”

     “Actually, in truth you have two uncles who are sworn brothers of the Night’s Watch.”

     “So, what does that say of my family?” Once the Night’s Watch were honourable men that pledged their lives to the protection of the Realm from hostile forces North of the Wall; Wildings, Giants and even the fabled White Walkers of childhood scary tales. Of recent times the Night’s Watch was populated more by criminals escaping a ‘worse’ fate. So, Jon was torn to whether his family were criminals or good men.

     “Both pledged of their own will, neither said the words by force. Both are honourable men and in the case of your other uncle, a far better man than his other relatives.” Sir Arthur spoke with obvious disdain for some men of Jon’s family, that made him less confident of his blood lines.

     “It is not terrible thing to have family on The Wall.” Daenerys interjected at the uncertain look Jon wore. “There is even a Targaryen on The Wall. My Great Uncle Aemon Targaryen is the Maester of Castle Black. I have never met him, but Mother says he and Rhaegar corresponded constantly. She says he is a very old, very kind, very wise man. I think sometimes she thinks he should have served the Realm as King instead of my Great Grandfather Aegon V.”

    “I am sure he would have been a great king, but that does not make my family sound any better. Maybe…”

     “Aerys was wrong.” Sir Dayne snapped.

     “Sir Dayne is right. I mean he said the other uncle, so the uncle with Ghost must be from the other side of your family. He and that side of your family must be honourable.”

     “That is what Geron says.”

     “Who is Geron?” Arthur asked, had Jon a friend, an ally?

     “My Barristan. I mean the mercenary who helped me live today.”

     “He was very good.” Sir Dayne had seen great skill in the golden lad.

     “He was.” Jon nodded thankful Geron had volunteered to help him.

     “You were quite marvellous too.” Daenerys thought that was necessary to say, but felt embarrassed when Jon looked at her in surprise and Arthur turned to smile at her in a way that said she may have stepped over a line, but he wasn’t going to reveal it to Jon if he did not see her topple into gushing girl. “You did win the fight for our House. Thank you.” She blushed and her head went back to her hands in her lap.

     “I must admit, it was a defiant act against your father.” Jon was enjoying speaking with her again, even if she was now a princess. She was every bit as beautiful as he imagined she would be and he was saddened to think his dreams could never be now, but he would enjoy this little time that he had with her.

     “You won to defy my father?” She looked up curious.

     “Yeah, I thought he was the foreign royal and he was here to set me up and torture me again, so I decided I would win to say I would not bend to his low opinion of me. Sorry.”

     “So, after you saw it wasn’t him, why did you continue?”

     “They would have killed me.” He said as if it was a stupid question, but saw his response and tone stung the Girl of Honey and Roses. “And the queen looked so sad I thought if I won and killed the Baratheon, she would feel better, or comforted. I wanted her to not have to witness a terrible event in her life.”

     “How kind.” Daenerys said softly.

     “I hope I did not embarrass myself.” Jon was now embarrassed, he did not wish to seem arrogant before her, now she was not just a princess he did not know or care about. Shit, why is my life always so complicated?

     The Princess was complicated, he had been wishing to see his captor’s daughter. Had wanted more too but now she was the princess, he would need forget any of that. Well done Jon, you have been yearning to see the only girl in the world you should have nothing to do with. He reminded himself he had not stolen or done anything wrong to be here, this was her mother’s idea, so he could enjoy this last and first meeting in the Light.

     “Oh no.” Daenerys leaned forward. “You did perfectly.” She did not know that for certain, but she believed it. He was caused to sit back slightly, she was as exquisite as he had imagined, more so, and if he did not keep his distance, Sir Arthur may need slay him.

     “Not quite Geron has an impaled shoulder and I have a dislocated one. We made one or two mistakes.” He was still the humble boy, Arthur remembered, even fame had not changed him.

     “Still you did very well.” She turned with a questioning expression to Sir Arthur. “They did very well didn’t they?”

     “Very.” Arthur smiled with pride. “Only a real Direwolf or Dragon at your side could have made it better.” Daenerys turned and enthusiastically nodded.

     “Ghost would have ripped them apart for attacking you.” She knew Ghost would have torn many throats to pieces for Jon. “He really does miss you and wants you to come home.”

     The princess’ words surprised both Arthur and Jon. Arthur had not expected her to express her affection so openly. She just told the boy he belonged where she was and where she was, should be Jon’s home. The sentiment was nice, but who knew how Aerys or the imposter Aegon, even one of the real ones would accept that.

     Jon was just overwhelmed by her energy. He had barely had anything to cling to in his life and few cared much – were not allowed to – for him. Princess Daenerys spoke with the inflection that he was not just a part of her existence, he was essential. He had trouble just with the thought of her considering him part of her life. He could not contemplate what she might be inferring, he was not free to explore what she meant so he concentrated on the part he could. Ghost.

     “Well as long as Ghost is in safe hands.” Jon spoke softly. “I do miss him greatly.”

     Daenerys’ mouth sank into a deep pout, Jon looked stricken for a moment as it looked like the princess would burst into tears. “I am sorry.” She sighed with great emotional pain.

     “For what?”

     “That my father has done such terrible things to you.” She sniffed to avoid crying.

     Jon leaned forward in his chair. “It had nothing to do with you.” He did not blame her. “The king is mad, that is probably why he got that title he hates.” He grinned to show he could see the funny side and got a small smile, which quickly faded as she thought how Jon being a slave was her father’s fault.

     “He was supposed to let you go. He sold you when he was supposed to free you. He promised my mother.” She knew she did not have to explain how wrong all this was to Jon; he had been living it. However, she had lived a lie of expectations. “I thought you were free and happy here in Essos.”

     Jon was struck by her sentiment, she had thought of him in the intervening months, he had hoped his Girl of Honey and Roses had not forgotten him and had similar dreams as him to reuniting, but she was a princess. A princess would not have given him a second thought, except apparently he was wrong and she did and now he was confused. He was happy the girl he had thought fondly of and missed, reciprocated his regard, but her status and station also made him find that hard to believe. What if it was dangerous for her? Aerys hurt people Jon liked and who liked him. Would he hurt his own daughter to wound Jon?

     “You should not have to miss him or he you.” A fire flashed in the princess’ eyes as she was reminded of her hatred of her father.

     “Life is as it is, no use lamenting.” Jon shrugged, his non-chalant tone made his audience stare at him with wonder. He may be prone to fits of sullenness but sometimes he exuded an almost ancient peace. Jon picked up the harp and started to play a beautiful old piece that could have calmed an enraged Dragon.

     Queen Rhaella did not give the Great Master a moment of peace after the Games. To emphases her displeasure she had walked back to his pyramid with her entourage in tow, refusing to travel with the man who had enraged her. She also spoke loudly of her offense and rage on the way, so everyone knew Master Wazir had insulted his honoured guests. This brought great shame on Master Wazir and his house as all Meereen could see the famous foreign guests were so insulted they had not stayed to meet the Champion and would not share his palanquins. By the time they had reached the pyramid there was no corner of the city that did not know of his shame and the queen’s rage at him.

     The Queen sent her daughter and the younger white cloak to be refreshed for their audience with the Champion, but she and the older White cloak immediately sought the Great Master, with an expression on her face that made him wish for death.

     “Master, for no longer will I refer to you as Great. We will discuss the insult you have given myself; my husband, the King of Westeros; my daughter; my dead son; my House and my entire Realm!”

     “Sweet lady…” His voice waivered in the fire of her rage.

     “Do not try to pacify me with your empty apologies and sugared words! It is Your Grace! This insult you have done us will NOT be rectified by words! It will take a great gesture, and when I say great I mean monumental!”

     “Your grace, I do not understand. The Champion won the games and his battle honoured your House.”

     “Really?! Is my son living again?! Has he been resurrected?”

     “No but …”

     “So, you think that a slave winning a mock mummer’s version of my son’s last battle should please me?” Her voice was low and dangerous. “You show that a slave, your Champion, can win where my son lost. That if a slave had commanded our armies instead of my beloved firstborn son, that the greatest defeat my House has known could have been avoided. You shamed me and my House before all Meereen! How dare you!” She hissed her displeasure. The Great Master looked horrified and terrified, Sir Barristan kept his face sober and angry – it was hard to not show his pride in his Dragon of a Queen. “Those that shame us burn, Master Wazir.”

     “Please sweet lady, I meant no shame or dishonour to you or your House. What can I do to make peace with you?”

     “Nothing!” She looked immovable. “Especially,” she continued after a great silence, “When your famed Champion is the lost prince, stolen from his family. The danger you have placed my daughter and I in. The danger we face from just watching that travesty.”

     “I know nothing of a stolen prince.”

     “Do you think ignorance will save either of us? Save us when his family’s armies and beasts come for us? Believe me, nothing will save us as long as that young man fights in the pits for his life.”

     “This is not my fault …” he was about to call her lady but the flame in her eyes stalled him, “Your grace. I bought a slave I did not place him in slavery.”

     “No, you just placed him in the fighting pits. For what did you say over a hundred combats? At least he would have been safer as a pleasure slave.”

     “Would his Father have been happier with that?”

     “His father would tear the skin from your bones for any act you forced his son to do.” Sir Barristan answered for his Queen, the rumble in his voice was as ominous as his Queen’s.

     Barristan believed this. Rhaegar was known for his compassion and good heart, but Barristan had seen the Dragon erupt, and it was terrifying. The knight was still in shock, he had never seen the boy well, but now to see him and know Rhaegar had another son, an unmistakable son. How had Aerys tortured Rhaegar’s own son? How had the Queen allowed it? How would any God forgive any of them?

     “Watch for the fires as his father scorches the earth to get his son. Note the stench of death on the winds. I cannot forgive you putting my daughter’s life in danger and I doubt my husband will accept your ignorance as an excuse if his beloved favourite child dies for it. I have lived a good life, but Daenerys has only turned fifteen. She deserves a safer and happier life.” The Queen was moved to true tears at the last statement but then fire entered her eyes to burn away the water. “Neither will her betrothed the heir to the Iron Throne, Prince Aegon a true Dragon with a terrible temper. Whom I might add is the son of the man you mocked today.”

     “Surely there is a solution?” The Great Master’s voice was pleading. The Queen frowned and shook her head slowly, resigned.

     “Sell him. Get him out of Meereen.” Barristan ‘s voice was low and solemn.

     “What?!” The Slave Master was shocked.

     “Barristan! You cannot suggest such a thing. Cursing another with the fate of death and destruction.” Rhaella sounded surprised and averse to his idea.

     “Or send him to his father and make no profit at all. Possibly still calling his rage down upon you.” Barristan’s voice was flat. “Slavery is outrageous and there is a reason it is outlawed. A family who hates it more than any other … let him punish the man who dares enslave his heir.” Barristan only regretted this threat was empty as there was no father to rage at this atrocity.

     “The other Great Masters would laugh me down to give away my Champion, my fortune. They would call me a fool and a fool I would be. Better to die a Great Master than a fool, by giving away my House’s greatest treasure.”

     Barristan stared the Great Master in the eye. “Then sell the man at a great price and be rid of the danger.”

     “Who would believe I wish to sell the man?” He spoke to the knight as if the White cloak was a fool.

     “Everyone if you sold him to the right person.”

     “Sir Barristan! Whatever are you talking about? Quite frankly after the insult of my House today I do not see why we would give helpful advice to save this man.” The Queen was cold to the Master’s fate. “We need to keep my daughter safe due to this man’s ignorance and arrogance. We need to enact a plan to make reparations to the prince’s family, to ask their forgiveness. We have no time to salvage this man’s life.”

     Barristan did not look at the Master as the queen pointed at him, he looked at his queen with a soft look in his eyes, a look of compassion. “Perhaps we can do both my queen.”

     “How? What are you suggesting?” The queen was a true actress with her confused look and tone.

     “We purchase the Champion.” Both the Queen and the Great Master looked astonished at his words.

     “We do what?” The Queen asked disbelieving she had heard right, at least that is how it appeared.

     “We or more to the point you purchase the prince from the Great Master.”

     “You could not afford him.” The Great Master stated still holding to his arrogance.

     “Barristan he is right.”

     “My Queen surely the sting of the insult of today would be lessened if the Great Master was to sell you the prince. Then you return the prince to his family and save your daughter Princess Daenerys. You save the Great Master from the death that awaits him for his enslaving of the boy. You returning the prince to his family would make amends to his father for the wrongs we have witnessed visited upon his son. I would say all these reasons are worth a great, no, a monumental reduction in his price. Surely the prestige of owning the Champion is not worth more to the Great Master than his life and the lives of his entire household. Fortune helps you little in Hell.” The Great Master swallowed hard.

     Rhaella’s eyes filled with true tears as the truth of some of Barristan’s words buffeted her heart. “Yes, we must make amends to his father for the wrongs we have seen done to him. Perhaps taking him from our shackles in Hell.” She took a deep breath and turned to the Great Master. “I would purchase this slave to clear my House’s conscience. You will reduce his price significantly to repay the insult of today; the danger you have placed my daughter in and to compensate me for the wrath I will face in your stead, to save your own throat and that of all you love.”

     “My lady even if I agreed the price would still be beyond you to pay.”

     “Then perhaps we need to negotiate what your life is worth and talk about what I have to pay with.” Her voice was smooth and her tone was enigmatic. “Oh, and when we do settle on a price and we will. The purchase will be in my daughter Daenerys’ name. This man’s freedom will pay to secure her safety and release her from an unsavoury circumstance.” Sir Barristan raised a questioning eyebrow at his queen, but she just smiled mysteriously.

     “My Queen.” Barristan was not sure how to ask the question he had for his queen.

     “Yes Barristan?”

     “I understand now why we must free the boy.”

     “Slavery is disgusting.”

     “Because he is the reason Rhaegar is dead.” The Queen spun enraged the knight would voice and support Aerys’ insane belief.

     “He is not at fault!”

     “I did not say he was at fault, I said he was the reason.” Barristan spoke calmly, not cowed by the queen’s anger.

     “Would you like to explain the difference?” She was still angry but the look on Barristan’s face was of sadness not arrogance.

     “Maybe your grace, you husband has been misunderstood.”

     “Really?” She did not sound as if she believed him.

     “Maybe Aerys knew what you did not.”

     “Which would be what?”

     “That Rhaegar would die for Jon or whatever his real name is. That Rhaegar was not fighting for House Targaryen, or the Crown and Throne, nor for pride or a sense of entitlement. He died to protect that boy, to give Lady Lyanna and Arthur time.” Barristan sighed sadly. “He said he needed Robert to be focused on him, to make time. Time for Jon to be born so Lyanna could escape with Arthur’s help I would guess.”

     “What exactly did Rhaegar say to you Barristan before that battle?”

     “Much I did not understand until that lad stepped onto the sands today.”

   “Is this wise my Prince? I do not like the way this battle is building up.”

     “This is definitely not wise Barristan. I am almost sure I will die tomorrow.”

     “Why do we not fall back to a stronger position? A loyal Castle or the Red Keep? Make Robert Baratheon come to you, he will not be able to siege the city forever.”

     “I cannot let Robert get any further south he must not get below the Trident.”

     “Why?”

     “Because if he does, he will be too close Barristan and there will not be enough time. I need to make time.”

     “Was it that obvious?”

     “When dressed as a Targaryen, yes. He may not have the colouring but he is more the Dragon Prince than any of his siblings or children, even more than you and your brother.” Barristan replied. It was as if only Jon was related to Rhaegar.

     As the queen and Sir Barristan left the negotiations having secured Jon’s purchase, they were greeted by a loitering Geron, still dressed as Barristan the Bold. He looked expectantly at them.

     “Move aside Mercenary.” Sir Selmy commanded.

     “As one Barristan to another, I don’t think so yet.” He smiled broadly.

     “Make way for Queen Rhaella of the Seven Kingdoms.” Barristan’s tone was authoritarian.

     “As I said, no. At least not until I hear the results of your talk with the Great Master.” He looked the Queen boldly in the eye. “Has your grace secured the release of my king? I mean my prince?”

     “Your king?” The queen stared back into his blue eyes.

     “As I said, I meant my prince.”

     “Your prince?”

     “Yes. Have you secured his release?”

     “His ownership has been transferred if that is your meaning.”

     “Not perfect but it is a start. When will you leave Meereen? I must prepare his steed, armour and sword.”

     “Excuse me?” The young man’s presumption both amused her and irritated her.

     “From the battle today. I have secured it all for my prince.”

     “He will not need that armour or cloak.” Anger rose in the queen’s voice.

     “Not now, but in the future. I do not think my prince is a man to wear plate armour anymore and it is extremely good quality attire.”

     “You presume sir!”

     “Mayhaps you do not presume enough. My prince does not seek his birthright but it will come to pass that he will not be able to deny it. A prince was promised, the Gods will not allow their promise to be ignored forever.”

     “It is not his birthright.” There was a tinge of sadness to her words.

     “Oh, but it is my Lady, his and Daenerys’.” Geron leaned in so only Rhaella could hear.

     “How dare you talk of my daughter, Mercenary.”

      Geron leaned closer as he saw Sir Barristan about to swoop in to protect his queen. “I speak of my Queen, your grace.” Quick as lightning he withdrew from her side. “Again when do we leave Meereen?”

     “Within two days, as quickly as ship passage out of Slaver’s Bay can be arranged and payment is made.” In a strange way this man comforted Rhaella, he had obviously become devoted to Jon, he would be a benefit to them. “Stay in contact Mercenary.”

     “Oh, you will not miss me your grace. As of this moment I will not be leaving my prince’s side.” He ripped off the white cloak and the stained armour, dumping them unceremoniously on the ground, leaving the padded armour and clothes underneath. “Sorry for any insult Sir Barristan, I always dreamed of growing up to be just like you as a boy, today my dream came true. I hope I did not shame you. I however am not Aerys’ or Rhaegar’s Kingguard, so the armour is unsuitable.”

     “No insult Mercenary. You played me with honour and skill. I only wish I had saved my prince.” Sir Selmy sounded sad.

     “You have done your prince a great service today by helping mine Sir Barristan. I believe he will forgive you.” The Queen and her guard stared at the retreating mercenary.

     The door to the apartment where Jon played his harp for the princess burst open and the mercenary entered all cleaned up and looking more like a Westerosi Lord. Geron was dressed in red and gold accented garments very similar to Jon’s attire except for the personal touch Jon had subtracted as it was. Sir Dayne drew his sword as he stepped in front of his princess. Geron strode into the room giving everyone a quick glance when his eyes lit upon Jon his face brightened.

     “My King! Sorry my Prince.” The golden man half-turned, leaning to see around Sir Dayne, then with a mischievious grin he sighed deeply. “I see I was correct my prince, your evening has not been as exciting as it could have been. Shame the night held such a great potential but I suppose you just can’t hope for a white cloak to make themselves scarce when you need it.” Daenerys blushed, Arthur growled and Jon rolled his eyes with a sigh.

     “How is it Sir Geron that you have been able to bathe and change attire while you stood guard outside for your prince’s protection?” Jon wore a quizzical look. Geron did not look reprimanded, he just smiled again. “Or are you so brash and full of bravado that you took a bath outside these very doors for all the slaves to see?”

     “See and admire my prince.” Geron laughed heartily, flicking his hair in an exaggerated way. Jon tried not to laugh, he tried to look disappointed, but he failed. Sir Arthur slid his sword back into its scabbard, but did not move, keeping himself between the princess and the man who sold his sword for gold. “However, in truth, I did leave my post,” Jon shook his head slowly in mock derision. “I was making myself scarce for my prince’s discretion.” Geron turned to eyeball Arthur, “Unlike some. I was giving my prince and his princess some privacy.” Jon’s eyes went wide at the words ‘his princess’ and his smile disappeared, he wished he could stuff the words back down Geron’s throat so Princess Daenerys and Sir Dayne had never heard them.

     “Geron, you go too far!” Jon wanted to crawl under the chair he sat on to avoid the princess and her knight, how could Geron do this to him? Then it occurred to him, he had only known the mercenary a matter of hours, why had he expected any loyalty from him? It was all Geron’s ‘my prince’ nonsense, he needed to stop thinking this stranger his friend. He had no friends. He did not even have Ghost anymore – his only true friend.

     “Maybe my prince just does not go far enough.”

     “You will stop this nonsense!” Jon’s eyes widened in rage.

     “My aren’t we getting all authoritarian for a slave boy.” Geron was not trying to hurt Jon, but his words cut Jon’s rage down, and his self-esteem as well. Daenerys gasped at Geron’s words and again Sir Dayne growled, this time at the insult to Jon. “I mean, what would your owner think of the way you are acting?” Geron stepped back into a position where he could look directly at the princess. “We are delving into Dragon temper again my Prince and you said you were a cool headed Direwolf. What do you think of the way the slave prince just commanded me, Princess?”

     Daenerys stared at Jon and his angry but deflated posture and expression. “Maybe sellsword if you do not wish the man to speak authoritatively to you, you should not constantly call him your prince. Why do you call him that?”

     Geron flashed Daenerys a brilliant smile, she thought he must have girls fawning over him all the time, this golden lord. She felt badly for him because his charms were useless on her, as she stole a quick glance at the dark lord across from her – no fair man would ever hold her heart. Then Princess Daenerys blushed at her thoughts and stared at her hands as the realisation hit her that she was not just smitten with Jon Snow anymore, and that Crown Prince Aegon would never be pleasing to her as a husband.

     “Because dear lady, he is my prince.”

     “Do all of you go to the same enigma tutor?” Daenerys asked in frustration, why was there no one who spoke plainly.

     “The Knight’s may your highness, I unfortunately don’t answer clearly as I know nothing. I am privy to no secrets.” Jon was trying to reassure her.

     “Even his own secrets.” Geron said in a low voice.

     “What secrets of Jon’s do you know?” Daenerys thought Geron knew even less than her about Jon.

     Geron smiled mysteriously. “Well. Today has been a great day. We have rectified our fathers defeats and repaid their debts of failure.”

      “How so, Sir Geron?” Jon asked as Sir Arthur Dayne looked about to flay Geron.

     “Well we are both from Westeros so our respective fathers were bound to have taken part in the Rebellion on one side or the other, most probably at the Trident so we either repaid their debts of treachery or rectified their defeat. We just won the Battle of the Trident for their glory!”

     “We most certainly did not! It was a mummer’s farce.”

     “I got to play my hero Sir Barristan the Bold.” Geron looked at Daenerys. “I always wanted to grow up and be just like him. I used to play Duskendale and rescue the Mad King when he wasn’t quite so mad. You my prince, you did House Targaryen proud, the perfect Targaryen Prince.” Geron had a look of pride on his handsome features. But as he turned to Jon, he noted the concerned look on his prince’s face at his words. “Well, all except for the fact you look more a dark Direwolf than a silver Dragon, anyway you did your House proud.”

     “My House?” Jon sounded unsure; Arthur was truly livid.

     “Did I not hear the proud kingsguards say you were raised in the Red Keep, seat of House Targaryen? That makes them your House until your family are able to claim you and give you their House. So, for now you are of House Targaryen.” There was no jest to Geron’s words, just simple logic. Arthur even relaxed at the line of logic he had drawn.

     Jon threw his head back and laughed so deeply, he nearly hyperventilated. “Oh … That… is… beautiful. I wish… I could … say that to … King Aerys.” Jon tried to get his breathing under control. He knew he should not laugh, but he could not stop himself. “He would surely kill me. I however cannot think of a more worthwhile death.” He returned to laughing and hyperventilating.

     Daenerys was not however laughing, although to hear Jon laugh so heartily was wonderful the reason did not amuse her at all. “That is not amusing.” She snapped. Her anger snapped Jon out of his revelry, he immediately lost his grin and it was almost as if he stopped breathing altogether. The knights gave her their full attention, both wore a serious expression.

     “I…” Jon was having trouble speaking either from the breathing difficulties or the emotions he was now experiencing, he looked very guilty. He had offended the princess.

     The hems of her skirts fell in waves of red to the floor as she stood for the first time all evening. Daenerys had drawn herself up in all her regal glory, but Jon only saw a perfect petite girl who he had obviously wounded, and he felt a bully. Daenerys started for the apartment doors, determined to be the picture of her title ‘Stormborn’. She halted just before the doors and turned to the men, she was a bit surprised as Jon bolted up out of his chair and walked quickly toward her, she nearly lost her fire as she looked at his distressed expression, but then she remembered what he had said.

     “You gentlemen should know there is no worthwhile death, they are all futile and wasteful of the lives thrown away on them!” Jon pulled up in his stride at her words. Tears formed in the princess’ eyes. “What good is a hero to the woman he leaves behind that loved him and will never be loved by him again? Men think we want them to die for us, we don’t! We want them to live!” With that she spun and ran from the room.

     Jon was lost with what he should do, he did not know exactly what to take from the princess’ tirade. He turned to stare askance at Arthur and Geron, they both shrugged. He decided he had better make sure the girl was okay and strode to the door, he froze when he pulled the doors open as he looked into the curious faces of the Great Master’s guards. He slowly closed the doors and stepped backwards into the room his head hung low.

     She has escaped me. In here I am a person, outside I am a slave. How could I have forgotten?

     He raised his head after a few minutes, returned to the seat to retrieve his harp and then very slowly walked out of the warm room where he had played to a beautiful princess and into his cold life of slavery. Jon did not wait for the guards he just trudged back to his cell, opened the gate and walked in.

     He sank onto the cot and stared at his harp, then quite deliberately he took the two ends of the instrument and twisted with all his strength and all his pain. Twisted until the wood started to splinter and the strings went slack, then he threw the broken thing against the wall. There was no one to question him, his cellmate had died on the sands earlier in the day.

     The man who could not be broken by King Aerys tortures; the Great Master’s beatings; by slavery; or by the blood he endured every day; not even the loss of Ghost – had been broken by the tears of a girl. He did not know how long he sat staring at his hands, and his broken harp, his head filled with self-hatred for making The Girl of Honey and Roses cry.

     The seneschal arrived at his gate all fidgety, which was normal. “The Great Master wishes to have you brought to him now you have finished with our honoured guest. Though I think you need return to your regular attire Champion, it would not do for a slave to present himself to his Master dressed as a Lord. Time to finish that act.”

     “Yes, it is time to finish this act.” Jon’s voice was cold and hard. “I will set aside this false costume. Send the guards in a few moments I will be ready.” With that he started to remove the boots – he’d thought he’d keep them earlier but now he wanted nothing to do with them, discarding them next to the broken harp. The doublet and shirt were next and then the breeches. He slipped his slave garb back on, feeling for the first time like he belonged in them.

     The Great Master is probably angry I upset the Princess. He was angry at himself for his wrongs against the Master’s guest. He deserved whatever beating he was about to endure.

     Jon had never wished to be anyone in his life, his only wish had been to one day be free. To be able to look up at the sky with Ghost by his side and to look upon the face of the girl whose scent brought sweetness to his dreary life. He had now gazed upon her features and she was even more exquisite in person than he could have imagined and not just of face but her heart seemed to be just as beautiful as her laugh and her scent. Jon would not say he loved her, for Jon was not sure he even knew what the emotion was.

     His wish to have meet her had been impossible when he thought her a high born girl, but now she was a princess, the daughter of a man who had hated Jon, hated him so much he had tortured him most of his life. Even if his reason for hating Jon was because he was the son of some lord that wronged his House, Jon would still never be worthy of a princess.

     His life had always been dark and hopeless, and this revelation had taken what little hope he had squeezed out of it. He would need to cling to those few short moments when he had had been able to talk to her as if they were equals, when she did not see how unfathomably below her he was. He supposed now she saw her strange curiosity was futile and she would not seek to ever see him again. He snorted, she probably didn’t this time. The Queen had arranged it. Why? To show the Princess the truth of how unworthy this boy was of her attention.

     Why do I even bother to try to survive my hell of a life?

     As if on cue, a guard arrived at the gate he carried manacles for Jon’s hands, which was strange he hadn’t been manacled since he was declared Champion of the Master’s Household. He did not fight it though, somehow he felt it appropriate after his shameful actions of this night. The guard was new too, a very large man with burn scars on his arms. Jon sighed as the manacles snapped shut and were locked. Then the guard did a strange thing he swallowed the key. He dragged Jon from the cell and down a corridor, it occurred to Jon the pyramid was very quiet, there were no other slaves, or even guards, and they were headed in the wrong direction, they headed out of the Master’s pyramid.

     “Hey! Where are we going? The seneschal said the Great Master wished to see me. Why are we leaving the pyramid?” Jon was no fool so he knew this guard was not his Master’s, he could have fought and tried to escape, but as he looked over his shoulder at his Master’s home he resigned himself to whatever his new fate was, and for that moment the defiance went out of him. The pyramid no longer held anything for him. The guard and the Champion of Great Master Wazir disappeared into the dark alleys of Meereen and the night.

Chapter Text

     Daenerys ran all the way to the guest apartments she shared with her mother, by the time she arrived her face streamed with tears. Queen Rhaella was still bathing to remove the ‘stench’ of the day’s events, so Daenerys was left to sinking onto her bed and crying into her pillows. After some time, a hand gently touched her shoulder to rub it lightly, a large calloused hand. The princess raised her head from her tear-soaked pillow to stare into the kind old eyes of Sir Barristan.

     “Princess, did he not play well?” His voice was gentle. Perhaps the lad had not inherited his father’s talent.

     “Oh, Sir Selmy.” Daenerys fell into his arms to continue crying against his armoured chest.

     “Hush child. You must dry your eyes; tonight is a time for celebration. Also, child I don’t want to scrub rust off my armour I left my squire in King’s Landing.” He smiled at her. “Imagine also how long it’ll take you to make all that puffiness around your eyes subside.”

     Daenerys smiled weakly at the old knight. “Jon played wonderfully but then the topic went to battle, and death and he said something stupid,” she sniffed, “I left and he didn’t follow.” She pouted at Sir Barristan.

     Barristan chuckled, “He is barely more than a boy, he is the age called ‘stupid’. Just think how terribly simple Aegon has been for the last couple of years. Jon is allowed one silly comment, he has been grown-up for far too long. Give the young man some space to be stupid, as to talk of death… it has been his life. Even in the Red Keep, he never knew when he woke each morning if that was the day he would die. His first memory as Sir Arthur tells it is of death, a horrific death. Only hours ago, he killed a man because your mother nodded. Be forgiving princess, death is more that boy’s family than his own dead parents.”

     “Well he could have come to apologise for his silly comment so I could be forgiving.”

     “How? The boy is a slave. If he tried to follow you, he would have been dragged back to his cell…” Barristan spoke gently to his sad little princess, because that is exactly what she looked like.

     “…and lashed if he fought to follow.” Queen Rhaella’s voice was stony. Barristan stiffened at the comment, Daenerys was surprised Barristan had never really been interested in Jon previously but even on the walk back to the pyramid he had made strange and angry comments.

     Rhaella came to sit next to her daughter and took her from the knight’s arms. “You have experienced so little true hardship in your life my darling you forget some people do not have your freedom. I am happy your heart is still kind and you rail against injustice in your soul, but injustice is everywhere, and Jon has never known true freedom. His life has been cells and chains, just because instances have been contrived to make it appear he is free, does not change the truth that he has never been free. He has never actually been free and he has always known it even if you forgot. His hardships were only a game of intrigue to you and my other grandchildren.”

     What does she mean ‘other’?

     “It is unfair mother.”

     “Yes, child it is. Think how much worse it is for him.” Daenerys nodded sadly and leaned into her mother’s embrace taking comfort from her mother’s warmth. She suddenly felt guilty as she thought how Jon had never had this simple comfort; who comforted him when he was scared as a child? “However, my darling,” her mother stroked her hair and tilted Daenerys’ head up so she was looking Daenerys in the eye. “Tonight we may start a change to Jon’s story.” Her mother had a beautiful smile when she shared it.

     The apartment doors opened and Sir Arthur stood in the doorway. “… said you would stay by his side, so go.”

     “I have an ill feeling Sir.” Geron had no joy in his voice.

     “Then make haste.” Sir Arthur closed the door and walked further into the guest apartments, the ladies and his fellow kingsguard watched him with interest.

     “Sir, I apologise for running away and for my harsh words.” Daenerys was feeling a bit silly for running away from her audience with Jon.

     “You need not apologise for your words. They were true, why else do the kingsguard swear never to take wives. The same reason the Night Watch does, to save the hearts of women waiting for men whose very jobs mean death, for strangers or in our case Kings.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “You do have to apologise however for the cowardly act of running after saying them.” Daenerys frowned at his reprimand.

     “Boys are braver than girls, it is harder for girls not to be cowardly.”

     “That is not true. I have known some of the most courageous of women during my life. Your mother for one.”

     “Thank you, Arthur.”

     “Well that is still only one.” Daenerys countered.

     “If you’d like another, my sister Ashara and of course Lady Lyanna, she was braver than most men I have met.” Daenerys listened to the reverence in Arthur’s voice and a sad faraway look in his eye, she wasn’t sure which woman he was mourning.

     “What happened to the boy?” Barristan asked, attempting to move the conversation away, he knew his princess, she asked awkward questions when her curiosity was peaked. But Daenerys it seemed had an off switch, Barristan noted a dark-haired boy, the mention of him derailed her thoughts.

     “Was he very angry?” Daenerys sounded worried.

     “You princess have spent too much time in the company of your father, brother and nephew.” Arthur shook his head sadly.

     “Aegon is not as cruel or as quick to anger as father and Viserys.” Daenerys murmured, staring at the floor.

     The Queen seemed surprised by the information. “When has Aegon been cruel to you? I have heard nothing of Aegon’s temper.”

     “Not often. Rhaenys and I don’t mention it because he always feels so terrible afterwards.” The Queen was obviously unhappy with this revelation. “He has only struck us a few times, mostly he yells and threatens.”

     “Aegon struck you?! And his sister.”

     “Nowhere as often as Viserys from when we were younger. Less than once every couple of years, just when he is extremely angry and cannot control the dragon.” Daenerys felt like a snitch.

     “Daenerys why did you never say? Do you think I would have ever allowed your father to betroth you to Aegon if I knew he had harmed you? Even once?” Daenerys’ shrug was like a slap in the face of the Queen. “I would have fought your father on it. I will not have you live such a life.” The Queen was without words.

     “Was Jon very angry?” Daenerys wanted to avoid thinking about Aegon and their future. She did not wish that devastation, she wanted light, so she asked about what gave her joy, her Black Cell Boy.

     “Of course not. Jon was not at all angry, he was worried he had offended you.” Arthur reassured the princess. “Well, no, actually he was angry.” Arthur’s feature turned thoughtful. “Jon was very angry.”

     Daenerys eyes filled with tears as Arthur watched her. “Oh.”

     “Very angry at himself – not you Daenerys – for causing you pain and making you cry. Not every man must rage at women when there is conflict. Prince Rhaegar never raised his voice to a lady or any woman. Jon’s fire is tempered by his ice.”

     “I am glad he wasn’t angry at me, I thought maybe he hated me for speaking against him.” The princess brightened. Arthur furrowed is brow at the drama teenagers could work themselves into; hate for opposing words?

     “Lovely, so he is not angry with the princess. What happened to the boy?” Barristan appeared to be getting irritated by the youthful angst, which Arthur thought was bizarre for Barristan, what had changed him?

     “He went to follow and realised the guards outside would stop him, so he retrieved his harp and was returned to his cell, I believe.”

     “What was happening with the young sellsword?”

     “Oh, mini Barristan?” Arthur grinned at his older comrade, and chuckled when Barristan grimaced. “He wasn’t allowed to follow immediately, so he came back with me … to ‘converse’ about his prince.”

     “Do you understand the ‘My Prince’ reference? Why does he refer to the boy like that?”

     “I do not understand why he says that.” Barristan nodded at Arthur’s words, and Arthur thought the old knight had new knowledge. “Now however he seems agitated and is concerned about the boy’s wellbeing, because of the House guards’ strange behaviour of refusing him to follow Jon.”

     “It does not seem so strange of behaviour … I suppose though this sellsword would know more about regular behaviours in Meereen than we.” Barristan stood silent for a moment. “I must say though, I too have an ill feeling tonight. We should go collect the sellsword’s prince, my queen I have a feeling timing is important.” The Queen nodded, and helped her daughter up, retrieving a cold cloth she pressed it to the girl’s face to alleviate some of the evidence of her tears.

     As the party had gathered themselves ready to leave the doors burst open with a frantic looking Geron stepping across the threshold. “He’s been abducted! Jon is gone!”

     “What?!” Arthur was the first to react.

     “I just went down to his cell, the guards do not know where he is. His clothes from this evening are in a pile beside his splintered harp. It appears he was taken after changing back into his slave garb, because the seneschal had left him to change to be taken to the Great Master and when he returned, he found what I did. An empty cell, with the discarded clothes and no Jon. And his harp. His harp … it is a ruin!” Of course, Geron was not to know the harp’s destruction was at Jon’s own hands, the ruination of the instrument looked like a terrible omen for the lad.

     “How can this be? He is their bloody Champion, they keep him in this pyramid for this very circumstance.” Arthur was livid, Jon was his responsibility, he had made oaths.

     “He isn’t their Champion anymore, not after our negotiations tonight.” Queen Rhaella felt sickened by the thought of how close they had come to freeing Jon, only to have him stolen away.

     “What negotiations Mother?” Daenerys still hadn’t been enlightened on the details of the plan to free or ‘buy’ Jon, so she was unsure what stage the plan was at.

     “The negotiations to take such a dangerous slave off the Great Master’s hands and save his family from destruction. The disgusting mockery of your brother’s death gave us an enormous advantage, a gift from the Gods to drive down his price by the immensity of the insult to our House. I thought our talks would take days until the Master would agree to even sell him before that travesty today. All it took was a few very intense hours.”

     “Mother do you mean Jon is free?” Daenerys’ joy lit up her features like fireworks. Her eyes sparkled with hope.

     “Well he was nearly free until he was abducted.” The Queen was annoyed. “Now the Great Master can just ignore his loss and laugh at his great luck that this happened after he sold Jon.”

     “Not true your grace.” Geron interjected. “You have not given payment and he has not given you the whip.”

     “What whip?” Arthur’s voice rose in anger.

     “A symbol the Great, Wise and Good Masters use in Slavers Bay to signify the ownership of a slave. The fighters wear no collars or chains, neither do the Unsullied, so to show the sale and transfer of ownership of such a slave, the Old Master must give the new owner a symbolic –sometimes not so symbolic – whip. It must be presented in front of said slave or slaves, so they know who owns them. Saying that, Jon is still Great Master Wazir’s slave, therefore his problem. Just imagine the shame to his House if he loses his Champion from his own pyramid, just after having arranged a very profitable sale.”

     Rhaella relaxed a little with the information given by the young lord. She looked critically at the young man before her, his walk was no longer the swagger of a sellsword but the stride of a knight or Lord; he stood straight and proud now, gone was the slight dip of his head. Geron was taller than she had first thought; golden hair flowed to just below his shoulders and his green eyes shone like emeralds, he was a very handsome youth and somehow familiar. He wore noble garb of red with gold highlights but no emblem or sigil.

     “Sir Geron may I ask a question of you?” The queen was the picture of courtesy.

     “Of course, my lady.” Geron returned her courtesy. “It would be my honour to answer your question.”

     “Is Geron your name or your House?” Geron looked somewhat uncomfortable by the queen’s question.

     “Well your grace, that is a long story, but it is my name, I have no House.”

     “Yet you claim Knighthood. Are you a hedge knight?” For a hedge knight to claim the title of ‘Sir’ was a great insult to the full knights, like the two kingsguard. Though neither knight looked insulted yet, the answer to this question could change sentiments.

     “I am a full knight and a trueborn son of my House.” Geron responded with an edge to his voice. “I claim not their name because my father was bereft of the knowledge of my mother’s pregnancy by my grandfather’s petty cruelty, if you must know your grace. My father does not know of me or what became of his wife – my mother – after my grandfather sent her away. I will meet the man one day and tell him, if he accepts me and claims me then will I claim my House and not before.”

     “But you wear their colours even now Lordling Lannister.” Geron did not look surprised at her deduction. The kingsguards and Daenerys did look slightly surprised though.

     “I am no Lion yet my lady and may never be, I however am a true born son and that makes them my colours. Whether I am claimed or not.”

     “From what little I have seen of you I think Lord Tywin would be overjoyed to claim you into his House and make you one of the heirs of his family, even Casterly Rock is up for contention I hear. Who knows how far you can go?”

     “What do I care what would bring to Tywin Lannister? He is a traitor to the throne and the Realm. Not to mention a black-hearted father.” True hatred could be heard in Geron’s voice, a strange sound to his usual joyous tone. “Casterly Rock and House Lannister can crumble to dirt for all I care.”

     Barristan listened sadly to the young man’s scorn towards his own heritage. “There was only one Lannister that was proven to definitely be a traitor …” Barristan and Arthur both dropped their heads at the thought of their fallen brother, “… and he lost his head for it.”

     Geron’s face flashed through sadness and anger. “I have no more sympathy for him than his father. Although his reasons for his attempted treason may have been noble, he failed, and he too held too much faith in his father and was also lost to Lord Tywin’s arrogance and ambition. Just because only Sir Jaime paid the price does not mean Tywin was any less treacherous, probably more. Who else would have convinced Sir Jaime to break his oaths than the black-hearted Tywin or his harpy daughter Cersei?” The adults gazed at Geron curiously as they processed his words.

     “I think you do Lady Cersei a disservice. Many women endure unsavoury marriages for their Houses.” Queen Rhaella looked with sad eyes to her daughter, worried Daenerys would be another generation to endure one.

     Daenerys did not seem so dumbfounded by him as her elders. “I have only met your father a few times but I believe he’d really like you Sir Geron, he doesn’t seem to revere Lord Tywin either and he definitely shares your low opinion of his sister Lady Cersei, I however agree with my mother there is another shielded side to your aunt.” Rhaella turned to regard her daughter, “I really like Lord Tyrion, he is an amusing little man. The cleverest man I know.”

     “Lord Tyrion …” Rhaella turned to look Geron up and down.

     “Just because my father is a dwarf doesn’t mean I had to be one.” Geron said with a smile, a smile that the three adults suddenly recognised as a mirror of the mentioned Lord Tyrion’s.

     “Well then, I believe you will have no troubles with your father claiming you upon our return to Westeros after we get the boy back. Especially as it will irk Lord Tywin that the son he has shunned so, has produced such a fine heir to his House.” Barristan said to reassure the knight.

     “Tyrion will enjoy years of rubbing both his father and his sister’s stuffy noses in it. Every time he sees them, or you achieve some glory; Tyrion will even send ravens just to make sure they have heard and haven’t forgotten that you are his son.” Arthur had a huge grin on his face. “You wouldn’t have even needed to be true born, he would say you were and claim you as such to torture his relatives. The man loves his House, cannot stand the people in it.”

     “Sounds lovely.” Though he did not sound as if those words were true. “Sir Barristan makes a point though. Our priority is Jon. We must find my prince.” Geron took a more authoritarian tone. “He has been missing to his people and his destiny for too long.”

     “We must discuss this ‘my prince’ thing when we have recovered Jon.” Sir Arthur Dayne’s tone sounded ominous to Daenerys but Geron just smiled at him.

     “We will have to discuss this ‘my prince’ thing …” Geron let his words hang in the air.

     It seemed Rhaella’s acting for the evening was not done, she walked into the Great Master’s audience chamber with a large smile and a delighted demeanour to be surprised by his frantic one, she kindly asked what was troubling him then exploded like a volcano when told he had lost Jon. She ranted and raved at top volume, even pulled out a few of Aerys best explosions for the man and told her knights to cut him down for this blatant betrayal and trickery.

     Great Master Wazir tried to trick the queen into believing Jon was now her problem, he did not need to find him, and if Geron had not informed her of the truth of it she may have bowed to that lie but luckily she had entered the room fore warned and armed against that ploy. She said if the slave was hers, then where was he? Wazir had not given him over to her, if fact he was supposed to be doing that right now.

     “You will find the man and present him to me, or you will not see one coin of the payment I have promised you. Not only that, I will personally write a letter informing his family who last had possession of their heir.” Rhaella growled as she left the room.

     “He is not going to search for Jon.” She said to her party once they got back to their apartments. “Truthfully we have no leverage to make him do it either.” They were halfway across the world and she doubted if she asked, Aerys would send any aid.

     “If only the threat of the boy’s family were real.” Barristan sighed.

     “Where did you come up with the ruse, Mother?” Daenerys found it quite solid for a story.

     “I did not.”

     “Yet…” Again, to Daenerys it seemed very solid for a spare of the moment tale.

     “Your father would tell Rhaegar the story every night before he went to bed.”

     “Father barely tells stories.” The King had barely told her any stories anyway.

     “Rhaegar got the same on every night.”

     “Of a missing prince?” That was a strange tale to tell your son.

     “I should know it word for word. I do not. There was a mighty king who lived in a Fortress of Ice and Winter. He travelled south to a land of Summer and Fire to find himself a queen and although he thought he had found a girl to love, her father refused to let her be his bride, so he lifted his eyes and found a girl he loved with all his heart.” Rhaella looked at her daughter. “I remembered that because I wanted love in marriage.”

     “What happened next?” Daenerys found it fascinating, because it was a connection to her deceased brother and to her father when he was sane.

     “He took his fire girl back to his ice fortress and he loved her deeply, one day she returned to her lands with his son growing in her belly. She never returned and the King raged, vowing to seek his missing son until his last breath, to bring both Fire and Ice down upon the realms that stole his son.”

     “And you just added the birthmark Jon has to make it appear it was him?” It was a brilliant addition, and it served them well, Daenerys hoped she would be as intelligent of a queen when she was one, when she was Aegon’s. She frowned that she must be Aegon’s queen, because she could not picture her life lived beside Aegon. She dreamed it was lived beside Jon, not because he was handsome of face but because he was handsome of spirit.

     “No, your brother used to doodle that symbol everywhere, saying he needed his father to know it was him when he came south to steal him from Summer. He stopped saying that when he was eight, but until then he doodled it everywhere.”

     “Rhaegar doodled a symbol that turned up as a birthmark on Jon?” Daenerys gazed at her mother, though in truth she gazed through her. That could not be coincidence. Daenerys’ turned to gaze at Geron, his prince.

     “Mysteries are strange. They say the Dragon blood gives us prophecies.”

     They stayed out of sight as much as his abductor could arrange. It was strange to think that he had lived in this city for almost half a year but had never walked its streets. He had seen more in the last hour than in all the months he’d dwelled here. They were avoiding people in the event they would recognise the famous gladiator. There was however one individual they could not avoid, a shadow who had trailed them from the Pyramid.

     “Halt.” The tone was authoritarian, but the voice was soft and warm. The guard stopped as if held by the voice. The woman for it was obvious from the way the blue silken wraps clung to her form in the breeze the person was female, came forward to touch Jon’s cheek. “Have faith in thyself. Dwell not in Darkness for you will bring the Light we need to this dark world.” He could not see most of her silk wrapped face, but he saw two soft blue eyes full of love staring out at him, and a long raven braid hung over her shoulder and touched the sands. “The world may seem cold, but there is a fire deep within you that will keep you forever warm.” She spoke some of her words with whispered emphasis. “Go conqueror the world, Champion.”

     The woman stepped back into the shadows and the guard moved Jon out of the gates to a mercenary encampment just beyond the wall he gazed up at their banners the books Queen Rhaella had sent him in his Black Cell, told him these were the banners of the Gold Company, begun by Bittersteel, one of the nine great bastards of Aegon the Unworthy. What did the Gold Company want with him?

     The scarred guard led Jon to the largest tent and lifted the flap revealing a well lit furnished interior, he dragged his hostage in and when they got to the centre of the tent he walked behind Jon to kick the back of his knee to bring him down. Jon’s knees buckled at the impact and he sank onto them in the sand that was the floor, facing a heavy chair which currently stood empty. Jon felt a breeze on his back as the flap he’d just entered through opened again as a new person entered, they must have been small as the footsteps were light and hardly made a sound.

     When the newcomer came around to sit in the chair, they were indeed slight of build and from the sway of their hips they were female, only an inch or two taller than the princess. Jon frowned as he remembered Princess Daenerys fleeing with tears in her eyes. The woman removed the scarves around her face and head to reveal long silver hair and sapphire blue eyes, her face was beautiful, and she reminded him of the Princess. But her face was harsher, sharper featured, where Daenerys was soft and her eyes seemed large and liquid, this girl’s seemed hard and shadowed, somehow there seemed a familial resemblance.

     Jon thought this girl was very beautiful, though he could not help adding  But Princess Daenerys is exquisite.

     She smiled as she gazed down at the young man. “The tales of your handsomeness do not do you justice.”

     “Thank you, I have not heard them though so I cannot speak to their truth.” He was unsure how to answer her compliment.

     “I can speak to their truth, and they do not explain you at all. Believe me Champion of Meereen you exceed all expectations.” She stared at Jon in a fashion he did not feel comfortable with at all.

     “Why am I here?” No use sneaking around it.

     “Oh, and the tales of your courage I see also are not wrong. A man in chains on his knees and he has no fear to speak plainly and ask his questions.” Her smile widened and she sounded amused.

     “Which the Lady did not answer.” Jon’s defiant streak was returning, either that or he no longer cared for his life after having hurt his Girl of Honey and Roses.

     She is not my anything, she is the Princess who smells as lovely as a princess should. The scarred guard raised his arm to strike the young man, Jon did not flinch. The woman raised her own hand in a gesture of ‘cease’, as she laughed; it was not as light and musical as the Princess’ but it was a nice sound.

     “I have great plans. Those great plans include you. That is why you are here to fulfil my plans.”

     “I am but a fighting slave. I cannot fulfil great plans.”

     “So humble. You are The Champion of Meereen, you are not ‘but a’ anything. I hear tell today you won the Battle of the Trident.” Jon rolled his eyes, he knew that sham of a battle would be trouble for him. “Even a great Targaryen Prince could not achieve that.”

     Deep down something in Jon’s blood boiled at that last statement. He had been tortured his whole life because of that day, that battle, that defeat but his anger was not for what he had suffered, it was for the loss of that defeated prince, Jon always felt strangely drowned by his misery for that event. He had always dreamed about it too, even when he was tiny. The crushing head pain; the ringing ears; then the crushing pressure on his lungs as his ribs cracked; the terrible cold darkness as he sank below the surface and the feeling of utter despair and loss.

     “He faced far greater numbers and far more dangerous terrain. He faced an army I only faced fourteen.” He was compelled to defend Prince Rhaegar, as in truth he had been compelled to defeat the Baratheon and regain the Prince’s honour in the Pit today.

     “Again, so humble. Two against fourteen is no simple feat. Rhaegar may have faced an army but he also had an army. You should not dismiss your victories so quickly or easily. Embrace your greatness dear prince.”

     Had an army. Why then did they not save him? He wondered sadly. But he had to combat this silly tendency of people calling him a prince right now, not wonder why a man was dead.

     “I am not a prince, it was a character. A stupid, silly, ridiculous character. If you put a crown on my head, it would no more make me a king than that costume made me a prince!”

     Her voice went cold and emotionless as did her face. “If I put a crown on your head it would make you a king.” Jon was slightly taken aback by her response, especially the dramatic sound to it. Then she suddenly smiled, “Would you like to be a king, Jon?”

     “No.” He did not hesitate in his reply.

     “So quick to deny himself a crown.” She seemed to be talking to the air. “What if you didn’t have a choice?”

     “Still no.” Jon’s voice was firm. “What would I want a crown for? Where would I want to be king of anyway?”

     “A crown for revenge on those who have oppressed you. Those that have denied you your destiny and your rightful place in this world. Revenge for all that has been taken from you and all that has been denied you. All you lost and all you never had.”

     “Revenge is no viable reason to wear any crown. If I never had it then I do not miss it. No one can deny someone their destiny for it is theirs and cannot be taken for it will always come to them.”

     “How wise. As to where. The World. However, let us begin with Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms.” Jon burst out laughing, the girl did not look pleased at his laughter. “What is so funny?” she demanded.

     “I thought you said The Seven Kingdoms.”

     “So?”

     “As in the Iron Throne.”

     “Yes!”

     “Well,” Jon had to take a deep breath, “I’ve seen that throne. It is bloody ugly.”

     The girl could not help herself from smiling at the comment. “I don’t expect you to marry it, just sit on it.”

     “Oh well then sure. Let us do that shall we.” Jon had stopped laughing, but his voice had lost none of its amusement. His smile was dazzling and the girl found it disarming to gaze upon causing her to glance away. “I have your solemn vow now though, I will not have to wed the ugly chair.” She turned her attention back to the kneeling man glaring at him.

     “You can strike him now.” She spat at the scarred guard.

     Jon laughed. “So much for being a King.” Again, she raised her hand to stop the brute from striking Jon.

     “Why do you mock my plans?”

     “Well…” Jon looked perplexed. “… my lady, perhaps if I knew your name, I could get more invested in your insane scheme.”

     “Insane scheme! What makes it insane?” She appeared offended by his words, but he noted she did not tear up or run away like his princess.

     Stop that! Daenerys is not your princess Jon. Stop thinking about her like that. Stop thinking about her all together.

     “The Targaryens sit the Iron Throne. King Aerys has two healthy, if not stupid male heirs and two intelligent female heirs. Also, the last rebellion failed miserably, and they were at least on the right continent. Robert Baratheon had five of the ‘Kingdoms’ mostly on his side and still failed. Not to mention Baratheon even killed the best heir Aerys had and lost in the end. No offense but how from here, with no great lords as supporters do you plan to take and keep the Throne from the Targaryens and then place a nobody on it? You’d do better to convince Viserys or Aegon to overthrow the Mad King.”

     “You just said Viserys and Aegon were idiots, why would I want an idiot as my king?”

     Jon’s eyes narrowed as he heard the emphasis on the word ‘my’. This girl wanted a man to sit the Iron Throne so she could be queen – she for some reason had set him up to be her shield in her mind.

     No way!

     “So, what is your name Lady Blackfyre?” His face was straight.

     “See how smart you are my dear Jon.” She smiled broadly, as if proud she had chosen herself an intelligent partner. A worthy king for her plans. “My name is Visenya, as in the Queen of Aegon the Conqueror.”

     “You look great for a 300 plus year old Queen, must be the Dragon Blood.” Visenya laughed. “There is an unmarried Aegon that inherits the Irone Throne when Aerys dies, just marry Crown Prince Aegon and kill his grandfather and then you can be queen without excessive bloodshed.”

     “Oh, but Crown Prince Aegon is betrothed.”

     “Really? Well I suppose you will have to be quick.”

     “Or assassinate Princess Daenerys.”

     “What?!” Jon could not control his surprise. “Why?”

     “That is who Prince Aegon is to marry. Though I do not know what either of them think of that.” Jon was silent, he tried not to show the hurt that information caused him.

     Princess Daenerys is Aegon’s princess, silly boy Jon. 

     “Well with the name Visenya surely you are fated to be the Queen of an Aegon. The fates will provide your king to you without you having to assassinate some innocent girl.” Daenerys may be Aegon’s princess but that wouldn’t stop Jon saving her or trying to, one last service to the Girl of Honey and Roses.

     Why had she not said anything? Jon laughed at himself. Why would she?

     “But the Fates have provided me with a king…” Visenya smiled at him but he still looked confused, “… you.”

     Jon sighed. Obviously, the silly mock battle had confounded everyone’s senses; it was amusing from Geron, but this girl was a step too far. “I am not a king, or a Prince, or a Lord or anybody. I have no interest in toppling the Targaryen dynasty or creating a new one. I just want a life without chains or cells, not one with crowns and thrones.”

     “What if you were destined for a life with crowns and thrones?”

     “I wasn’t. Now either let me go; send me back or lock me up. I have had a long day and I really have no interest in prolonging it with this absurdity.” Jon felt the exhaustion of his active and emotional long day and wanted the escape of sleep.

     “So commanding for a fighting slave.” Visenya smirked at him now, but he did not bother to answer or prolong the conversation. Say whatever she liked Jon was done for the day and stared blankly at her. After several minutes his stubbornness won out over her and she sighed disappointed. “We will find you a place to rest Champion and we will continue this in the morning. I will convince you, have no doubt of that.” She waved her hand and the scarred guard dragged Jon up and out of the tent.

     Visenya was disappointed, she had thought from what she had heard of the tortures visited upon the man known as Jon Snow at the hands of the Mad King Aerys Targaryen that he would jump at the chance for retribution. He had seemed the perfect vessel to channel her own hatred of Targaryen arrogance into. Yet having met him, Jon seemed strangely at peace with it all. She felt a small amount of self-chastisement, that why was she so angry at House Targaryen that had actually done nothing to her personally, when Jon Snow appeared forgiving of them. Had those few minutes spent with him been enough to sway her even a little?

     Visenya decided Jon was a very dangerous man. The very reason she had found him perfect for her plans was also the way he could unravel them. Jon was a born leader, the sages/prophets said the world would bend the knee as he strode the earth and she could see why. It was almost magical the way his words made sense, even when diametrically opposed to your own.

     The other attribute that made him dangerous was his appearance. How could any woman be alive and deny him? Visenya sighed deeply, she had been told he was a handsome man, that women were offering large sums to be intimate with him, but she had not expected his true visage or the effect it had on even her. She could not pin down exactly what it was that made him seem so alluring, so undeniably glorious to behold. Part of it had to those dark serious eyes, she closed her eyes and saw them looking at her, then she felt herself shiver with the thought of him looking at her. If she could get him to agree to her plans she would have a very pleasurable life, she was sure.

     Her plan had been simple: marry the boy; use his past to make the Lords of Westeros tear down the Mad King; make him king and have the Blackfyre’s finally sit the Iron Throne through their children. She did not plan to care for her husband, he was only a means to an end, her path to being Queen. Then she met him, and he was glorious and then he was intelligent and wise, commanding and humble. Worst or best of all he was noble and kind. How could she think herself better than the Targaryens if she callously used him as her pawn? She couldn’t, but she had to, she was the last heir remaining to the Blackfyre line, she was her bloodlines last chance. She had to win Jon over to her side, make him want to make her a queen.

     It all started tomorrow. Tomorrow she embarked on the greatest battle of her life, the battle for Jon Snow’s heart.

     “My Lady.” The scarred man returned to her tent interrupting her musings.

     “Durk.” The man looked gruesome, but his soul was good, well half decent. “How did he settle in?”

     “I tied his feet to the tent pole.”

     “Why?”

     “I have seen him fight. I worry that anything short of burying half of him will not be able to hold him.”

     “He is quite amazing.” She breathed with more emotion than she should have. Durk grumbled. “Jealous?”

     “No. I am not your lover.” He rumbled.

     “How hard was it getting him out?”

     “Not so much once I had him, I had removed all the guards on the way in and he followed without too many questions.”

     “I would think he would fight to stay in the cosy pyramid.”

     “We slaves find one set of chains much like the next.”

     “You are no longer a slave, Durk.”

     “We are all slaves to something, you to your family’s desires to rule.”

     “We should rule. Daemon Blackfyre’s mother was the sister of King Baelor, she deserved the throne before King Viserys after Baelor’s death and he was King Aegon’s firstborn.”

     “Maybe King Aegon should have married his princess then.”

     “Aegon was an unworthy king and father.”

     “And everything else if you speak right.”

     “Jon would be a good king, I think.”

     “He said no.”

     “I will convince him as I said.”

     “I think not.”

     “I will.” She snapped at the man.

     “How?”

     “Maybe I will seduce him, crawl into his bed naked.”

     “He is tied to a post, he has no bed.”

     “Then I will just stand before him naked and he will succumb. I am one of the most beautiful women in the world you know.”

     “Yes, but today he saw one more beautiful than you Lady Vy.”

     “How can that be? I am every brilliant facet of Valryian beauty.”

     “But you look hard from your angry life.”

     “Still there would be few to match me. Who could he have seen?”

     “Princess Daenerys of Westeros.”

     “Princess Daenerys. What is she doing here?”

     “From the look on her face as she watched the Champion battle, falling in love.”

     “She is betrothed to Crown Prince Aegon.” Visenya looked confused. “Durk, why did it take you so long to return? If Jon did not fight.”

     “He had an audience to play with the Princess. Set up by her mother, the Queen.”

     “To play with?” That was worrying.

     “Or for. What does it matter? She maybe betrothed to Aegon, but I think she will dream of the Champion. And she is extremely lovely, so maybe he fell in love himself.”

     “I thought you said I was the loveliest maid in the world.”

     “I said you were the loveliest woman, not maid, because we both know you are no maiden. Also, that was before I saw the princess, you are the second loveliest.”

     “Jon is not that easily impressed.” He had not been with her, but then he had seen Daenerys only hours ago.

     “Also, I got the impression he has met the princess previously.”

     “What did he say?”

     “Nothing. But he did live in her house for 15 years, surely they met.”

     “He was in the dungeon, not where princesses go.”

     “Alright, but when he stepped on the sands she stood as if seeing a long lost love. He may not have known who she was, but he has met her, and she was happy to find him alive. With the reuniting I think a love rekindled in the girl.”

     “That is why he was upset at the idea of me assassinating her.”

     “I think he was more hurt by the knowledge she was Aegon’s bride than you assassinating her.”

     “Is that what you think?”

     “He closed his eyes as if he had been stabbed at that. After all, why should he worry about you assassinating her, he could easily stop you from killing her. No, losing the girl hurt.”

     “My plans could be ruined. If he cares for her…”

     “Loves her.”

     “Cares for her, he will not topple her father.”

     “Or he would marry her instead.”

     “Shut up!” Durk shrugged and walked out of the lady’s tent, he would go stand watch outside the Champion’s tent, he was sure the man would not attempt escape, but he had seen the mercenary that fought beside him in the battle before. He commanded the Mercenary corp, The Blades. They were dangerous and they did not un-sheath their legendary blades for anything less than a fortune. Why was his drawing blood in a fighting pit?

     In this turbulent time, a request came to the Pyramid of Wazir, a request that brought great honour to the Master’s House. He was called to the Great Pyramids of the Grace, for an audience with her, before her centre and main Pyramid. None were allowed to enter any of her three Pyramids: Might, Magik (the Greatest) and Faith. So, she met him on the steps, dressed as always in her blue silken wraps with their gold dragon, wolf, sword and circle embroidered trims. Her face covered for none were worthy to look upon her divinity; only her eyes visible and her pale brow. One long raven braid hung over her shoulder and touched the ground woven with gold, black and blue ribbons.

     “Master Wazir.” The woman was beautiful with her eyes of pure sapphires and hair the colour of obsidian.

     “Our benevolent Grace.” He bent his head low, this woman was the most sacred person in all the city of Meereen. It was a great honour that she had left her temples to visit him, her feet never touched unsanctified ground, anywhere she walked was made sacred.

     “You dishonour us.” Her soft tones still spoke of her anger.

     “Never!” He would not, he like all Meereen revered this woman, there was a mythos that she was ancient beyond imagining, and although few truly believed it, she exuded a sense of ancient peace and knowledge. Every man and woman knew if a child was born with her features they were taken to the Sacred Pyramids and raised to be her handmaidens. Many suspected but would not speak the idea that one of those children must replace her, regularly.

     “Still you put your Champion in the Pits again, and you refuse to search when he is lost.”

     “He is but one slave and he is not mine any longer.”

     “You dishonour us.” She spoke softly but there was stone in her voice. “Princess Daenerys has agreed to pay a grand ransom for this boy, and you will not deliver what you promised.”

     “She has not paid anything yet.”

     “Then he is still yours to find. Find the Dragon of Winter or we will all burn. The King has sent assassins searching for his kin, next come the Dragons.”

     “There are no Dragons left in this world.”

     “There are. One fights in a pit and one sat at your table last night. She is small but she is spectacular. If you dishonour us, I will call the armies of my father and they will curse your people.” She turned and walked back into her pyramid.

     First Daughter had been quiet the entire conversation, struck mute by the Grace. “Would it hurt to help the Targaryens, Father?”

     “Why should we? They have shamed us before the entire city, and they stole my Champion.”

     “Mayhaps we should have done more research before making such a faux par.” His daughter was quite wise for her age, too bad his son, her younger brother would rule their family after him. “Mayhaps we should have been more vigilant.”

     “How could I know they were going to steal him?”

     “How could we gaze at that mark on his shoulder, and not see the ancient symbol we all know? Pretend what you will Father, we have seen it close, we knew he was special. That mark is the real reason you bought him; you have heard his true name.”

     “He is not a missing prince.”

     “What word would you prefer? Emperor?” First Daughter walked away from her father then, he had skated by on luck in regard to the Champion for too long. Now he would have to pay some recompense. The Grace had warned them to care well for the one that would bring them great fortune. Their time of caring for him was not done.

     There was an urgent knocking at the apartment doors. Rhaella opened them with every bit of strength she had, the loss of Jon so close to having him free was rattling on her nerves. It was a very distraught looking Master Wazir with a slightly less bedraggled First Daughter.

     “Queen Rhaella.” Wazir quivered. Rhaella raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him and his voice disappeared.

     “Your Grace.” First Daughter continued for her father. “We are aware this is an unusual situation. We should be exchanging items at this point, you the payment and us The Champion. We however do not have our part and I would guess in truth you could not present yours immediately either.”

     “Which is of no concern as you have lost the commodity I was purchasing.” Rhaella’s voice could not be mistaken for anything but that of a queen.

     “I would remind you, that it was in fact Princess Daenerys that it was agreed was purchasing the Champion.” First Daughter had the tone of a business woman.

     “I was?” Daenerys asked surprised.

     “It was to be a surprise for you dear.” Rhaella took her daughter’s hands. “Compensation for having to marry Aegon.”

     “Mother.” Daenerys gasped shocked. If Daenerys had any idea of this fact, she would live in Essos forever never returning to be Aegon’s wife. She would save up to have Ghost sent over and she would live free and happy with Jon and Ghost forever.

     “So, it has been reminded to my father that we must honour our responsibilities and cares for the Champion as he is still ours to care for, and we will and have sent men to investigate his disappearance. We will keep you updated on any information we receive. Of course during this time you will remain our honoured guests and we will fulfil any requirement you wish of us.”

     “That is the least you can do. We should be given a discount, for the wait.” Rhaella knew it was a stretch.

     “You already are getting him at far too reduced a price!” Wazir was making little profit on this sale. With a quick look at his daughter and her sideways look he calmed.

     “His father…”

     “We are aware.” First Daughter spoke for her father. “We have been informed of his interests entering the city.”

     “What have you been informed?” Geron asked First Daughter.

     “He has dispatched assassins.” The Targaryen party looked concerned for them this was a ruse, but someone had made it very real for the Great Master and his Daughter. Assassins?

     Geron turned quickly and walked to a corner of the room muttering to himself. When he turned back he had a determined look on his features. “We thank you for this information and request you do keep us well informed on the progress of your investigation of the Champions abduction. If you would give us some time to discuss our own plans regarding this.”

     “Of course.” First Daughter bowed and backed out of the room, moving her father with her. As the door closed all eyes turned to Geron.

     “Assassins?” Arthur spoke first.

     “I did not think things would amp up so quickly, I thought they would give me more time.” He looked around at the worried faces. “We need to find Jon and quickly. They will back off, if and only if they know he is in sight of a known ally.”

     “Which I am guessing could be you?” Barristan postulated.

     “We cannot sit here and wait for Wazir to bumble around looking for him. We need to put our feet on the ground.”

     “You cannot think to drag the queen all over Essos.” Barristan growled at the stupidity of the idea.

     “Of course, he isn’t.” Daenerys said to defend Jon’s knight. “Geron, you will leave one of your men, that you obviously command from the arena yesterday with Barristan and Mother, here is Meereen. You, the rest of your men, Arthur and I will run all over Essos and get Jon back.”

     “Princess…” Sir Barristan was about to question her when she turned to stare at him with more steel than he had ever seen in her.

     “If I am going to pay all my inheritance to free that boy from the Black Cell, I will damn well go and free him! I will not sit in a cushioned chair!” She huffed and lifted her skirts to spin. “I need to change clothes, I cannot conqueror the world in this giant dress!”

     Geron smiled at the rest of the room and winked at the queen. “What did I say? My Queen.” He pointed after Daenerys.

     Geron called his Blades, chose to leave the Spearman with Rhaella and take the rest with Daenerys. It took some convincing and the advice that none of her clothes could be fitted to be tenable for her adventure so she had best sleep to be ready to buy the correct garb from the markets in the morning to get her to go to bed. The plan was set as the princess had set it. Barristan and the Blade would protect Rhaella and the rest went with Daenerys to rescue her Black Cell Boy.

     “How did you sleep my king?”

     “Well and it is Jon.”

     “Not for long. Soon it will be King Jon.”

     “I doubt it but dream as you may Lady Blackfyre, I am a slave and do not have the liberty to dream. Of anything.” He sounded forlorn and Visenya wondered if he was sad that she had told him Daenerys was Aegon’s bride.

     “It is good you slept well we are leaving.”

     “How many men do you have to escape the rage of the Great Masters and their ire that a famous slave was stolen?”

     “We have many but only a small group will go with us.”

     “Us?”

     “Yes, my King, you and I are leaving immediately to avoid those that would seek you. I do not plan for them to place you back in their chains.”

     “Oh, so I will just wear your chains.” He said looking at his manacled hands and feet.

     “I will remove those as soon as we are away from this region.” She looked apologetic. “We will change your garb too, so you do not look like a fighting slave.”

     “What kind of slave will I look like?”

     “Maybe a pleasure slave,” she smiled seductively at him, “Would you like to be my pleasure slave Jon Snow?”

     “No.” His face was serious.

     “I could be a good and kindly Mistress to you.”

     “I am sure you would, but I am not interested in staying in chains even soft silken ones.”

     “As much as I would love to convince you how lovely my silken manacles could be for you, we must move. Durk get him ready to move.” The scarred guard came forward to do her bidding as she left the tent.

     Visenya did not get far. She should have known it was not going to go smoothly. She sighed heavily wishing she could have escaped this conversation.

     “What the fuck do you think you are doing?!”

     “What is necessary.” She said to the blue dyed haired knight.

     “You are damaging Young Griff’s future.” Griff growled at her.

     “You have had years to return him to his rightful place, if you will not take what is supposedly his, I will take what is mine!” She snarled back at him. It would have been simple as Jon had said last night to marry an Aegon and take the throne without all this intrigue and using of Jon.

     But Griff had always treated Visenya like she was some tick attached to Young Griff’s back, when the Gold Company had followed her father and her after his death. She had grown loving Young Griff like a brother, and he loved her like a sister, but Jon Connington had always treated her like she was trash in comparison to the ‘real’ Targaryen. She hated this man. She would have help Aegon, Young Griff get his throne, but she would not help Connington and Connington was bound to want to ride Aegon right to the end.

     So, it was that Young Griff and Visenya would be parting ways, after so many years growing together. Her men would ensure he would be safe, she had given orders, they were loyal. She had priorities though, she must go her own way, Jon would get her the Iron Throne, it may put her at odds with her once brother but life had never been easy for Visenya Blackfyre, she did not expect that to change.

     Durk had Jon on a horse and ready to go, and Visenya was mounting up with the few men she was taking, when another blue hair man came to her horse, this one she would stop for. She looked down into his purple eyes soft and loving.

     “You will not stop me.”

     “Vy…”

     “I have to go.”

     “Vy, can you not wait even a day? Griff says I must meet this princess. I do not want you riding off into the desert alone.”

     “Egg.” No one was close enough to hear her nickname and know his true name. “We are never going to get to Westeros if we never go west. I have Durk and five others of our best men I am not alone.”

     “You are my only family, Vy.”

     “That is not true you have real family, in Westeros, and Griff will never set your feet to return to them. I am going home. These are my first steps.” She kicked her horse, because she knew he would be able to convince her to stay, he was the only blood relative she had been able to cling to since her father died, he was her only family.

     Jon saw the blue hair man’s forlorn gaze as the lady rode away, it was not passion, but it was a deep love that tore at him to watch her go. For a moment the blue haired man’s eyes met Jon’s and there was some recognition of something. Durk moved Jon’s horse and soon the small group was only a speck on the horizon.

     “Forget Visenya, she was trouble.” Griff said from behind Young Griff’s shoulder.

     “Easy for you to say, she wasn’t your sister.”

     “She wasn’t yours either.” Connington reminded his prince.

     “Except she was.” Young Griff knew his mother Princess Elia had sent word Princess Daenerys was in Meereen. He could meet her, and she was betrothed to the imposter pretending to be him so really to him, but it seemed all unimportant having just lost his sister, even if she really wasn’t. His family was just fucked up.

Chapter Text

     Daenerys Stormborm of House Targaryen was awake before the sun and she was dragging Sir Arthur Dayne out of the Pyramid to the market to buy her new attire before the sellers were even set up. As he rubbed his eyes, she asked him why he was he pointed at the barely there glow in the sky and she pointed at his sword.

     “Dawn? Sword of the Morning?” Daenerys asked with a raised eyebrow.

     “Your highness, morning and dawn are when the sun itself shows on the horizon, not just its glow.” Arthur answered the girl. “I know you are eager to get these garments so we can set off, but this is not going to be all fun.”

     “I expect none of this will be fun until we find Jon and can remove whatever bindings they have on him.” Daenerys answered honestly.

     “Princess, can I ask you a very personal question?”

     “You can. As a princess I do not have to answer.”

     “I understand initially Jon was a mystery and therefore exciting to discover, but why did you continue to pursue the mystery?”

     “He was different. I cannot explain, I was drawn to be close to him, you know he is different. I expect there are other young men similar to Jon and different from my brother and nephew, but I believe Jon is still special. I just find him special. You won’t tattle on me will you Sir Dayne?”

     “No Princess.”

     “Sir Dayne, may I ask you a question?”

     “You may. I am a Kingsguard, so I may not answer.”

     “I know mother was using a ruse about a missing prince, but Geron seemed to speak as if maybe my father’s tale to my brother was real. Do you think Jon could be this missing prince, or a missing prince?”

     “Or a prince?” Arthur could see what Daenerys was asking: Is Jon a viable option for her, could she choose Jon instead of Aegon?

     “Well…”

     “I could see how that would explain some of the mystery of the boy. Educated and guarded by elite guards, kept secret and safe for years. Well somewhat safe excluding your father’s insanity.”

     “Always enigma.” Daenerys sighed.

     “Just for you Princess, imagine Jon is a possible prince you could chose instead of Aegon.” Arthur said with a smile.

     “That is not what I meant.” Daenerys looked everywhere but at Sir Arthur.

     “But really it was, but I wouldn’t tell anyone, because I am a kingsguard and you are my princess.” He spoke quietly and looked directly forward.

     “Thank you.” She said very softly.

     “You need not mention it, for I will not.” He said just as softly. As he touched her elbow to indicate the seller she might need to see, seemed ready to sell their wares.

     Daenerys did not haggle, and she listened to Arthur's advice on the best option for what she may require on her endeavour to regain her missing prince. He did not tease her but spoke as if Jon really was a lost royal, because ultimately, he was. He was impressed by her serious attitude about her upcoming endeavour, everything was done with diligence and discernment.

     It seems Geron and his comrades had not sat idle while the Princess shopped either, they had been canvassing the streets for information and some of the beggars had happily freely given information for bread and cheese and a skin of wine. The Champion was famous and even in the dark of night in the back streets such a famous slave could not be moved totally unseen. A scarred man had moved him silently and chained outside the city, to an encampment of a sellsword company, a famous one in fact. The Golden Company.

     They were still out there, but a small group had moved off at dawn. Griff, one of their Commanders was still there with his son, but Lady Vy, The Black Lady had left. Geron said they should go talk to this Griff fellow, even if Lady Vy had taken Jon, he may know where and why.

     Griff was trying to determine a way to get an audience with Queen Rhaella when he was told he had company, Sir Geron Gold was here with his employer and they had questions for him about a slave. “What did I tell you?” He growled at Young Griff. “Vy is a fucking trouble maker.”

     “Why are we still even in Essos? We could have gone home years ago.” Vy was right, House Targaryen had not fallen, Aegon did not need to be hidden for so long.

     “Sir Gold.” The Soldier opened the flap.

     “I do not have time for whatever questions you have about a slave of all things Gold.” Griff said without even looking at Geron and his employer. Aegon however saw a very beautiful girl standing slightly behind Geron Gold.

     “Hail, Griff. May I introduce my employer, Princess Daenerys Targaryen.” Griff’s eyes snapped up to look at the girl.

     “I am glad that got your attention sir.” Daenerys said insulted he had spoke so uncivilly at their entrance. Young Griff stood up immediately, Daenerys gave the handsome lad a quick glance and then glared at his father. “One of your men stole a slave from a pyramid last night, The Champion of Meereen. Now that would usually be of no concern, but I had just agreed to purchase said champion and that means you stole my property. I am not pleased.” She did not sound or look pleased at all.

     “Slavery is illegal in Westeros.” Young Griff said, slightly offended his aunt had bought a man.

     “I was going to free him, once he was mine, for I knew this slave from Westeros. So, you understand why I am so unimpressed that he was stolen.” She snarled at the lad. “Having travelled all this way and paid all that money.” Daenerys had no time for any of this banter Jon was getting further from her fingertips every second.

     Aegon could see she was very displeased. For someone so small, she looked as if she could kill a man with a death stare alone.

     “It was one of the other commanders of our company she has departed with him, we cannot help you.” Griff answered the princess. “However, if you could arrange for I and my protégé to see your mother, we could do you a greater service.”

     “So, I come to you and ask you to help me, you refuse but expect me to gift you an audience with my mother?” Her voice said he was dreaming. “Sir Gold.”

     “Yes Princess?” Geron was not sure where she was going but he was happy to see.

     “Slit his throat.” Her voice did not waiver, she spoke with steady command.

     “His men might take offense.”

     “I took offense.” She stated coldly, she cared for nothing right now but getting Jon back, this man was in her way.

     “Alright, it has been a whole day since my sword tasted blood, she has been a little thirty.” Geron took a step forward and the lad stepped before his ‘father’. “Should I kill him too?”

     “Hmm, see he didn’t offend me.” Daenerys looked contemplative.

     “Wait, please. My name is Aegon Targaryen.” Young Griff thought to sort this out with the truth, something he knew both their lives lacked.

     Daenerys cocked her head to the side. “Really, because last time I saw you, you were taller and honestly less blue.” She should be shocked or taken back by his words, maybe arc up at the possible lie, because she was really not sure anything in life was true any more except how much it hurt to not know where Jon was and if he was safe. Now, with Jon missing this boy could say he was her brother Rhaegar and she would accept it and ask him to step aside she had a true love to find, if he didn’t mind.

     “The Aegon you know is an imposter swapped soon after birth to save me from the sacking of King’s Landing.” Young Griff told his tale to save his guardian.

     “What sacking?” Daenerys knew there was supposed to be one, but it never happened.

     “There was supposed to be a sacking.” He also knew it never happened and also wonder why this hiding game had been so prolonged. He was a tad put off by her simple acceptance of his revelation, like he had not revealed some great secret conspiracy.

     “But there wasn’t.” She shook her head once.

     “Maybe we could discuss this with your mother, my grandmother.” Aegon just wanted to meet the queen, his grandmother, even if she rejected his tale.

     “No.” Daenerys said without prejudice. “I am here for Jon Snow, I have no time for poor lost Aegons.” She sounded callous and this Aegon must have thought that of her by his reaction, she did feel badly for him, he did seem somewhat nicer than the one she left in Westeros.

     “If we discuss this with grandmother, I might be able to help you with where Visenya took the slave.” He wondered who this slave was to the princess.

     “Just tell me where she took him.” She gave no quarter, she was not here to save this boy, she was here to get her Black Cell Boy back.

     “Aren’t you betrothed to Aegon of Dragonstone?” Perhaps he should reminded her what his revelation really meant.

     “Yes.” She blinked at him liked that was of no consequence.

     “So, if I am really Aegon, then you are betrothed to me.” He made a point, but that just made him an obstacle, and she decided to exact the punishment she wished on Aegon in Westeros on this slightly nicer one.

     “You are right Geron, he has now offended me, slit his throat too.” She nodded at Blue Aegon.

     “I am your nephew!” He squeaked.

     “But I am only here to find Jon. Quite frankly I couldn’t care less about any Aegon true or false, blue or silver right now.” She expelled her exasperation in a very princess pout.

     “How does the false Aegon love you?” Young Griff showed his own frustration at this princess.

     “I don’t think he does. Pretty sure he just wants to tick a box.” Daenerys shook her head slowly, she found this Aegon much easier to talk to, she actually hoped his tale was true.

     “Seriously?” Young Griff stepped back. “What a heel.”

     “Yeah, he can be. I think he is sleeping with your sister too.”

     “Yuck!”

     “Look, I get it you want to reconnect with your family and I would love to help. But my priority is finding my friend. So, help me find Jon, I will introduce you to my mother and your mother and every other screwed up person in our family. I have not the time now however, as your sellsword fellow is riding further away every minute we natter.”

     “The slave is a really good friend of hers.” Geron said.

     “No.” Young Griff said firmly. “I will meet my Grandmother and then I will help you. Not before. My Fellow, is likely to kill me for helping you ruin her plans, so I would like to meet my grandmother before I die.”

     “I cannot agree.”

     “We will not be chasing that Blackfyre woman.” Griff said firmly.

     “Do not speak about her that way!” Aegon commanded. “She is my only family.”

     Daenerys looked at this blue haired lad and saw the passion he had for the ‘blackfyre’, maybe an Aegon like him, she may have loved enough to marry, but not with there being a Jon Snow in the world.

     “If I introduce you to my mother, and you help me to regain my friend, then I will help you and your Blackfyre family member to find a place in House Targaryen. My father is mad but he does allow me some gifts, maybe your relative could be one of them. Especially as she is a girl and not a boy.” Daenerys spoke softly. She did not know if she had any power to influence her father, but if this lad thought she did then he would help her find Jon and Daenerys thought her mother would appreciate another grandson to love. Had this been the other she had spoken of? Daenerys did not think so.

     “Thank you.” He took her hand and shook it. Griff however looked suspicious at her offer.

     When they got outside, and Sir Arthur’s eyes landed on ‘Griff’ his eyes hardened. “Connington.” He growled and true hatred was heard in his voice.

     “Where were you?” The blue-haired knight growled as he stepped towards the white clad kingsguard. “When Rhaegar needed you, where were you?”

     “Where he wished me to be.” Arthur growled down into the other man’s features. “Protecting his future and legacy.” That made Daenerys give her attention to the near brawl, Arthur was in Dorne they say when Rhaegar was dying in battle, he returned only to the Red Keep when the king and remaining kingsguards fetched him and Lady Lyanna’s remains, along with a treasured egg. Daenerys never understood that part, what treasured egg was Arthur protecting in Dorne?

     When also during that time was Arthur at Jon’s birth and where was Jon born? Wait. Was Jon the Egg? Is Jon another Aegon? Daenerys gazed at Arthur with his rage at Lord Connington, wishing to pull him aside and ask him the dreaded question, had she not escaped the dreaded Targaryen incest by loving Jon? That would explain so much, why he was kept in the Keep. Why her father could never quite finish the prisoner off, why her mother wept so many tears for Jon.

     “Geron.” She could not ask Arthur, but Geron had another story, maybe one that could heal her heart as it started to crack. She pulled him aside as everyone tried to pull the Westerosi men apart.

     “Princess.”

     “Geron, Is Jon Rhaegar’s son?” Geron looked stricken for a moment as if he did not wish to answer the question. “Why do you call him prince?”

     “Swear you will not reveal what I tell you.”

     “I swear.”

     “Be sure princess, because it has wide and dangerous consequences.”

     “I swear.”

     “You do not understand the danger.”

     “Geron Lannister, will what you reveal mean that I am not in love with my own nephew?”

     “Yes.”

     “Then I swear.”

     “Yes, Jon is the man you have heard of as Rhaegar Targaryen’s son. But Rhaegar was not who you think he was. Your mother may think it a ruse to push Jon’s price down, but I have met the Winter King who lost his wife and son and searches for his grandson, he sent me here to free Jon and bring him home.”

     “Jon really is a missing prince?”

     “He does not know and neither do many others. Your father does, but probably only your father.”

     “How could he treat Jon like that if he knew?”

     “King Aerion hates your father, but he says your father is insane not stupid, he knew if he could put Jon on the Iron Throne as his heir, he would have generations of strong Targaryen rule. Your father was looking forward but could not see what a mess he made now. That is what Aerion says. People underestimate your father.” Geron looked back at the blue Aegon. “I would guess, he even knows about him.”

     “What could he have been thinking?”

     “Once people knew Jon existed your father had to get him away, and Essos was as far as he could send him. Maybe he thought Aerion could scoop him up. I don’t know, your father is mad. You know, you may be the key to this whole thing.”

     “Me? I doubt it.”

     “Princess, you just told me you are in love with my prince.” She blushed red as if she had sat in the sun all day. “You cannot reveal you know he is what he is, he would not accept it yet anyway. Aerion could not possibly burn the Seven Kingdoms if his grandson is saved by a princess who loves him. He too was once an Ice Prince in love with a Fire Princess.”

     “Jon does not love me.”

     “Jon does not know what the emotion even is. Who knows what he will feel by the time he is returned to his grandfather? You are an amazing girl, I am sure you could capture any boy you want to.”

     “Time to be a princess though.” She turned back to the near brawl. “Lord Connington, if you want to have an audience with my mother you will step back from my favoured knight, or I will have your beheaded and your body dumped in the canal, do so now.” Then she simply walked towards the city gates to Meereen. After she had made a distance between herself and the men, she called over her shoulder. “Come Sir Dayne! Stop playing with that dirty Sellsword, I do not want his filth to taint your lovely white armour.”

     “Barristan you should have seen and heard our little princess, she was a warrior.” Arthur smiled with pride as he regaled Barristan to their princess’ show. He could not hide his pride, it shone off him.

     Queen Rhaella was suspicious of this lad and his guardian, she obviously recognised Lord Connington, but she had many questions, which she apologised to the lad for having to ask. She touched his face tenderly and shook her head, saying she did not see her son in his features. Young Griff frowned, he had been rejected, she asked when Jon Connington had been given the child, how long was he in others hands, who had handed him over. Why had Jon Connington not returned him sooner.

     Blue Aegon looked sadly at Daenerys, she could see he thought he was now the imposter. She looked to the kingsguards and Arthur stepped forward.

     “My queen, this is Aegon, son of Elia.” Arthur knew what Oberyn and Doran had done to their sister.

     “How can you know that?” Rhaella asked. Everyone else looked to Arthur with askance.

     “I am a kingsguard and I know the king’s secrets.” He said with a steady voice.

     “Explain yourself Sir Dayne.” Rhaella’s tone was one of displeasure.

     “Your husband has kept many secrets from you, I do not know all of them. I know this one. Princes Doran and Oberyn of Dorne, took Aegon from his crib to protect him from the planned sacking of Kings Landing. They replaced him with a child of similar age and colouring. They said a son of a whore, I do not know. They sent the true Aegon to Jon Connington in Essos. This is Aegon son of Elia.”

     “Elia… How could she?”

     “She was not consulted and if she had not noticed as a mother would that her child was different, I do not believe her brothers would have told her ever. She has, I know due to her confidences with me, mourned his loss, and wanted his return. Been mystified why he has never been returned. I am guessing she sent you news the queen was coming to Essos and Meereen.” Arthur addressed Griff.

     “She did.”

     “Why has she...?”

     “I believe she loves her false Aegon too.” Arthur spoke for the tortured princess. “Look closer, my queen, even if you cannot see Rhaegar, can you not see Elia?” So the queen rose to look up into the young man’s face. And there she saw Rhaenys and Elia, this boy may not hold Rhaegar, but he was still her family. She started to weep.

     “I came here for one and I got two.” Few understood her meaning, but her heart was bursting with joy at this gift the gods were giving her. “I don not know how Aerys will handle this I must communicate this to him delicately. Even if he knows, he must not be surprised by it. Bring me something to write with.”

     Daenerys headed off to retrieve what she needed. When she returned, her mother was already sitting ready to write.

     “How will you start this letter to father?”

     “Oh, I am not writing to your father, I am writing to Elia. I am telling her I am bringing her baby home, your father will read this and have his fit and I will not waste a sore hand in writing to him too.”

     “What of the False Aegon?” Young Griff asked.

     “Well, we wouldn’t be throwing him into the streets. He is my grandson, I will ask your mother’s advice and we will find a solution. Though, with all this confusion I should suggest we nullify your betrothal Daenerys, it is all too confusing now. I mean we have two Aegons; incest is bad enough but polygamy as well with husbands of the same name, insane and really your father is enough insanity for any family.”

     “Excellent! I have a friend to rescue and I need to steal this Aegon. Can I call you Blue?” Daenerys was back on target, her prince.

     “I don’t know if I like Blue.” Aegon screwed up his nose.

     “Yet, you wear it on your head.” Daenerys pointed at his head.

     “Visenya calls me Egg.”

     “Hmmm, we will see which I settle on.” Daenerys headed out the door, to Aegon’s confused look. Geron headed after her and then Arthur.

     “She really likes this slave.” Geron said to Aegon.

     Daenerys’ head reappeared. “My favourite knight, doesn’t like you,” she pointed at Lord Connington. “You are not invited or required.”

     “Favourite knight?” Barristan asked.

     “Out of me and me.” Arthur soothed his fellow kingsguard. “I still think you are her favourite until Jon gains a knighthood.”

     “So, I should think.” Barristan said with a shake of his head.

     “My daughter is correct though Lord Connington.” Queen Rhaella eyeballed the man. “You are not required. You have served Rhaegar and House Targaryen well, but my husband the king exiled you. I will ensure you are well compensated for your service so you will never desire anything, but you cannot return to Westeros with us.”

     “I am the only family that boy has ever known.”

     “Apparently not. Apparently, there is a Blackfyre girl.”

     “Will your husband be anymore accepting of her than of me?”

     “As yet, she has not betrayed him in his eyes, and you have. Maybe he will be more kind to her. The King is mad, he will do as he will, my duty is to keep as many of those I love alive, I will not have Aegon whom you have just brought to me, cursed by association with you. It does not mean you will never see the lad again, just you can never go home. If you truly love him, you will let him go so he can.”

     “She wants to be queen.”

     “She will never be queen. She will grow to learn, being queen can be a curse more than a blessing if you choose the wrong king.”

     “She has chosen a slave.”

     “A good king, but she will not be his queen.”

     “He is no one.”

     “You know nothing, Jon Connington. You played with my son and learned nothing of the world in its true visage. You played legendary heroes, Rhaegar was a legend. Go write yourself a list of what you want your life to look like, so I may make it for you. Thank you for bringing my grandson to me, I am grateful.”

     Geron and his Blades were well setup for desert travel and had to only purchase a few extras to add Daenerys and Arthur to their troop. Aegon had his own equipment and Geron had to admit for a Prince he was pretty down-to-earth and thought this Aegon was probably more Jon’s preferred sibling material to the ‘false’ one in Westeros. Daenerys found him far less grating on her nerves and he was not prone to rubbing up against her, which she appreciated greatly. By noon they were ready to set off.

     The day after Daenerys headed into the desert with Egg as her guide, Master Wazir brought Queen Rhaella the news that a beggar had seen a scarred man leading the Champion out of the city the night of his abduction. She thanked him and closed the door, wondering if he would ever have found Jon for her, then as an after thought she sent her husband a message saying she needed a little extra coin for her trip and wrote the exorbitant amount at the bottom, secretly wishing she was there to see his reaction, she imagined a crapped up hand at least.

     It brought a glow to her heart and a smile to her face.

Chapter Text

     "What?!" Durk said irritated, the gladiator had been gazing at him all day and Durk was finding it disturbing.

     "Nothing." Jon said as he shook his head.

     "You are constantly watching me." Durk growled.

     "Why are you so irritable, Durk?" Visenya asked, it was not like the man to be so grumpy.

     "I think he has a tummy ache." Jon said, looking at the scarred man sideways.

     "Why?” She asked Jon. “Do you?” she turned to Durk. “He has eaten exactly the same thing we have." Visenya looked to her prisoner because he was still refusing her advances and needed to be retrained.

     "Not exactly. He did swallow a key, that must be sticking you bad, in the worst places."  Jon looked sideways at the big fellow again.

     "I am fine." Durk grimaced.

     "Yeah, you sound in pain." Jon leaned forward in his saddle, to try to get a look at the front of the man. "I think we should stop and check it hasn't torn his gut."

     "How would we do that? We don't have a maester." Visenya said with a great degree of concern in her voice. "Why would you swallow the key, Durk?"

     "So, he didn't steal it and escape." Durk pointed at Jon.

     "You could have just thrown it beyond my reach." Jon said to help him. Durk irritation however said he did not like Jon’s suggestion.

     "Durk, that thing could rip your insides to pieces." Visenya stopped her horse in front of Durk's. She sighed. "We had better set camp; you can't ride with a key going through you. Yohan, ride to the next village or camp, find a healer, we need help for Durk.  We are camping here until he passes this or you come back."

     "What if searchers come for the Champion, while I’m gone?" Yohan did not want to leave his lady exposed, especial down one man, if Durk was considered injured.

     "We will make a stand." Visenya said.

     "Yohan, is it?" Jon asked, "I promise you I will protect your Lady Vy, even if they are here to rescue me.  No woman will be harmed for me." Yohan looked torn, but as all the men looked surprised by Jon's words, Visenya nodded to Yohan that she believed him and to go. "Might I say though, if you removed the manacles, as I am wearing gold silks and painted leather, I would just look like one of your company and they would not even give us a second look."

     "Decided you want be part of my plans, have we Champion?"

     "No, but I also am not going to run happily back into slavery." Jon said as he jumped off the horse without help. He got some worried looks as his companions realised, they had not had him as secure as they thought. "Oh, and yeah, I could always do that." He grinned at them as he confirmed he had been more compliant than they had suspected.

     All except Yohan dismounted and went about making camp and making a spot for their pained companion to lie. Jon could see by the manner in which Visenya fussed over Durk that she was not the emotionless, all-business woman, she made out to be, she showed her gentler side and that she also was not as old as she portrayed either. He had thought her a few years older than him, but now he knew she was around his age. She was determined though and he could see that as she ordered the men around, with no concern they would refuse.

     "Do you want to be a sellsword?" She smiled as she rolled her bedroll up to place behind Durk's head. "Lay back, that is an order." She snapped at the scarred man.

     "No.  It dishonours one's sword to sell it." Jon replied to her query. Sir Hightower and Arthur would box his ears if he even thought of selling his sword. Arthur. The knight that had always felt the closest to a real guardian to him had been so close, and now he was so far away. Jon missed Sir Oswell Whent and Sir Gerold Hightower, very much too, but Arthur Dayne had always been extra special to Jon, Arthur would visit Jon on days he was not guarding him, and he would take the other two guards’ night watches whenever he could. When Jon enquired why all Arthur said was: It is the least I can do for them.

     Jon had never understood who they were, he wondered if somehow Arthur knew who he was and after speaking of his uncles he must. Was Arthur friends with his parents? No wonder he had seen such pain and anger in the knight when Aerys had harmed him. He had on occasion had to act brave for Arthur, because he feared Aerys would take Arthur away, like he took everyone else away. Ultimately Jon worried what his own reaction would have been if Aerys had killed Arthur like everyone else. When he contemplated it is had night terrors of steel, blood, fangs and flames.

     "What a fancy ideal." Visenya chuckled. Jon shook his head quickly to clear it, he had no time to contemplate why the thought of a knight caused him such dreams, nor why Visenya mentioning Daenerys may have to die caused the same night terror to occur the night she joked she would need assassinate Princess Daenerys.

     "I grew up in a dungeon, I can afford fancy ideals." She smiled at his response and she was quite a beauty, but he had to remind himself, still not Princess Daenerys though. 

     If I ever get back to Westeros, I will need be a Kingsguard or a Black Brother, no wife will ever compare to my Girl of Honey and Roses. He was not going to beat himself up over thinking of the princess as his girl, because as a prisoner and a slave, he could have any impossible dream he wanted. It had occurred to him if he ruined his harp over it then Princess Daenerys was obviously a dream he wanted.

     Did that mean he loved her? Too bad he didn’t know what love was, if he did he may be able to answer that question. He liked her more than he liked anyone else. He has missed her as much as Ghost and Arthur, so maybe he did. Look at me being a foolish boy and falling in love with a princess. He smiled at his own silliness.

     “Why are you smiling Jon?” Visenya asked with her own smile. She could not help it he appeared happy.

     “Have you ever been in love, Lady Visenya?” Maybe Visenya could answer his queries. He saw a sadness cross her eyes then disappear as if she had locked it away.

     “Maybe I am in love with you?” She wiggled an eyebrow at him. Durk groaned and her attention was back on her friend. Jon could question her, but he had no right to her secrets or her dreams, though he had found in snippets of their interactions there were two very distinct girls under Lady Visenya’s face.

     “Yeah, if you were, I would not still be in chains.” Jon challenged and shook his chains. Then he plonked himself next to the prone man. “Move over.” He pulled his knees to his chest and brought his hands under his feet to allow his hands to come to his front.

     “When did you learn to do that.” Visenya asked.

     “Age four.” Jon answered plainly. “The king had me trussed up in this weird contraption that required me to contort myself to escape or be contorted in a painful way and have my bones snap. Had to learn to dislocate and relocate my joints and contort my limbs, he changed it every time I got a handle on it.”

     “Yet, you hold no ill feelings, and seek no revenge?” Visenya asked incredulous of his forgiving nature.

     “Look how it helped me here. I should thank him.” Jon flashed her a smile and Visenya was more confused about the young man, thankful a past torture aided a current predicament. Was he a saint?

     “You are fucking joking.” Durk groaned.

     “Now, Durk if this hurts punch Visenya, not me.” Jon grinned at the man.

     “What?” Visenya asked surprised. Jon pressed Durk’s abdomen in several places until he screamed, and folded in half.

     “You are a mighty man to endure that and not punch a lady.” Jon spoke jovially to the man and then turned to the girl at his shoulder. “He really does respect you. So, the key is lodged in a very not nice place. We could try to turn it but it could tear something, he needs a physician and I mean someone with a knife. Or a maege. Do you believe in magik, Durk? “

     “What?” Durk groaned in agony, still pulling his head back together after the searing pain.

     “Mumbo-jumbo. Abracardabra. Hulamabulama. Hokey-makokey. Magic.” Jon tried to determine if Durk was a believer in the hidden arts.

     “No.” Durk grunted.

     “Yeah, you are going to need a physician.” Jon told Visenya. “We could make him more comfortable though,” Jon said as he sat up and searched the surrounding scrub. He shook his manacles at Visenya. “Undo these so I can go find some stuff.”

     “Like what, slave boy?” Visenya was not sure about any of this, Jon was not committing to helping her, but he also seemed content to aid her friend and not escape her. The man had a wholly unfathomable life concept to her.

     “Some plants have medicinal properties, maybe I can find something.” He said barely looking at her and scanning the surrounding landscape.

     “Do they teach that knowledge in slave fighter school?” Where did all these skills and knowledges come from?

     “No, but I read my way through the Red Keep and they had maesters who had books on medicine in the Red Keep.” Visenya couldn’t argue with that and if it helped her friend she wasn’t going to deny the chance he might find something.

     “I will come with you.” She declared. It wasn’t that she believed he would take opportunity to run off, she just cold not stand or sit by and watch Durk in pain, doing nothing to alleviate his agony. Her men were

     “Good idea, more carrying capacity.” She smiled that it did not even occur to him it may have been to keep an eye on him. She produced a key from down her blouse to unlock the manacles. He grabbed in when she had unlocked them and examined it then looked at Durk quizzically.

     “Hmm, the key isn’t that big.” They needed a professional healer for this man. He did not linger on the conundrum though they needed to find something to ease Durk’s pain.

     “I take it you are proficient with a knife and sword and probably unarmed combat.” Jon said as he and Visenya checked the various plants around them in a spiral pattern out from their camp keeping the flag of the company in view.

     “Why do you think that?” Visenya asked, in a soft tone. Men usually thought she was soft and easy to overcome and manipulate, just as she liked them to think.

     “Your men allowed you to walk off with a near stranger they know is good in combat.”

     “Maybe they believe your skill is all mummery.” She tried to see if he had any vanity in his proficiencies.

     “The Golden Company is famous, and they follow you. You must be proficient.” HE turned and gave her a smile that said he knew what she was trying to do, and he was stupid enough to fall into her trap.

     “Alright, I can hold my own. Does that make me less attractive?” She knew it did turn many men’s attraction to her off, many did not wish a girl who could hold her own, they wanted a girl who would swoon when they flexed.

     “Not at all. Though let us recall, I am not attracted to you for other reasons.” He had met another far more beautiful, he quickly glanced to the girl beside him, maybe not far more, but somehow far more. Emotions were very confusing. Why was it so different? Visenya was very similar to Daenerys, but still Jon could not find himself attracted to her.

     “Durk says you have seen the lovely Princess Daenerys and fallen in love. I almost gave orders to have her killed before I left.” Jon spun quickly at Visenya’s words, when he saw her smile and that she had been jesting, he turned back to his search. “My, Jon Snow. Was Durk correct? Did Princess Daenerys’ beauty overwhelm you at the games the other afternoon?”

     “No.” She had enchanted him with her scent and laughter, her intelligence and voice many months before.

     “That is best. After all she is betrothed to Prince Aegon.” Visenya reminded him. Jon scoffed at the prince he knew was more show than substance. “Have we seen the Prince? Weren’t impressed. Well, lucky for the princess he is an imposter and the real Prince Aegon is a much better specimen.”

     “Real Prince Aegon?” Jon turned around with a quizzical look. How was there an imposter prince?

     “Yes. He has been living with me for almost his entire life.” Visenya, didn’t care if she was revealing Connington’s secret, he should have taken Egg home years ago. Jon features screwed up as he thought on her revelation.

     “That blue haired guy that wanted you to wait.” She looked surprised he guessed so easily. “He looks nothing like the man he is supposed to be related to , his hair had a completely different reaction to the dye they use; meaning his hair is barely coloured whereas, his so-called father’s was most likely red. He looks like a slightly fairer skinned Dornishman and he has a similar nose to Princesses Rhaenys and Elia. A similar chin and brow to the supposed imposter, which is probably why they chose him. His eyes are the same shape and hue as Aerys and Viserys.”

     “You saw all that by the short interaction he had with me?” She was astounded by how perceptive he was.

     “I lived in the dark and saw nothing for so long, I see everything the light shows me. How did he get that scar under his left ear?”

     “We don’t talk about that.” She said furtively.

     “You did it. His guardian doesn’t know, he lied to keep you safe.” She stared at him astonished he had deduced that. “As I said. Live in a hole, you notice everything.”

     “How did you come to be in that hole?” That part of the story was not in her knowledge.

     “I don’t know.” Jon shrugged as he knelt to pull a grass out of the ground that came up with a bulbous root, he nodded and handed it back to Visenya then walked on.

     “Do you know why Aerys kept you?” There had to be some importance to him, Visenya had heard a rumour that might explain it.

     “Nope.”

     “Do you care?” It appeared as if he did not, Visenya would have died of curiosity, but Jon seemed unaffected by his own mystery.

     “Nope.”

     “Did you meet the Princess while you were in your hole?” Jon turned again to look at Visenya. “You did. I’m guessing you didn’t know she was the princess though.”

     “Nope.”

     “So, even if I stole you before the games you still would have loved her first.”

     “Yep.” He went back to his searching.

     “You just wouldn’t have had a name for her…”

     “Scent.”

     “Oh, my Gods! You loved her by her scent?” Visenya looked nauseated. “That is…”

     “I lived in a hole!” He got defensive, he shouldn’t have said anything, he wasn’t sure why he even divulged that to her. Maybe it was the resemblance to Daenerys.

     “Actually, it is kind of sweet. In this shit world that story is sweet. Did she love you back?”

     “Umm, no.” He looked offended by the suggestion.

     “Really?’ Visenya thought she didn’t like this princess if she didn’t love Jon back. She had little knowledge of Jon, hardly knew him and was jaded by the world and had fallen just a little in love with him.

     “I presume not.” He answered honestly, because why would a princess love him back?

     “Why do you presume not?” Visenya thought Daenerys would, so long as she had a heart beat any girl would. Somehow, he had been treated terribly and yet all it did was make him kinder and more compassionate.

     “I lived in a hole, I wore rags mostly and ate swill. She was a princess. She is betrothed to a prince.”

     “An imposter prince.” Visenya reminded him. Jon could definitely take out an imposter prince. She was loath to admit it, but as great as Egg was and Egg was great, Jon could outshine Egg too.

     “He thinks he is real.” Jon cocked his head and a curl fell in front of his left eye and Visenya ‘s knees wobbled. She was sure Daenerys was fall down in love with Jon.

     “And you think you are false. You are both wrong.” Visenya said in a ‘you know nothing, listen to me’ tone.

     “I am not wrong.” He shook his head and moved on.

     “There is a good chance you are …” Jon turned around to gaze at Visenya as she was about to speak a theory about him. She stopped, Jon loved Daenerys, Jon was a good guy, picking weeds to heal her friend who kidnapped and chained him. She was not going to tell him Daenerys was his aunt. On a rumour.

     “What?” Visenya spoke like she knew something about Jon and his family, was she not sure now?

     Truth was she no longer was sure, Jon did not resemble Egg, so maybe it was all fancy on the storyteller’s part. “Wrong. You must be some one of importance and note because Aerys kept you alive for so long.” Jon dove for a plant.

     “This will be very helpful.” He held it up and Visenya shrugged, seen one weed you have seen them all. “As to keeping me alive, Aerys is mad there is no rhyme to any of his actions.” He turned to head back to Durk.

     Visenya caught his arm. “Seriously, Jon. The princess is promised elsewhere, forget the dream, if you help me, I could help you to have a very cushy life.” Jon stared down at her.

     “Lady Visenya, I do not wish to topple House Targaryen, because one insane man was cruel to me. Quite frankly, you deserve someone who loves you, If you steal the throne you will be so busy defending it you will never enjoy it, I do not understand why the House of Blackfyre pursue it anyway.”

     “It is our birthright. Daemon was King Aegon the IV, first born son,”

     “Out of wedlock. House Blackfyre could stand alone, why doesn’t it?” Jon found it perplexing.

     “It is mine.”

     “Why not marry the real Aegon then?”

     “It would be weird, we grew like siblings.”

     “It would be very Targaryen though.” Visenya opened her mouth to answer but his eyes held her words and her in place. “You pursue it because your father did and he because his father before him. I have seen it, it is ugly. I do not jest. It is not something you should want.”

     “Jon, if you were heir to the Iron Throne and someone took it would you not want it back?”

     “If I was heir, I would want my realm, not that throne. That throne kills people, it is a symbol of tyranny and oppression. A king should wish to serve his people justly, but good kings are seen as weak kings in House Targaryen. Your namesake took The Vale by flying her Dragon to The Eyrie and showing Lady Arryn she could kill her child. Everyone says how clever she was to show she had the advantage of flight, she was wicked. I would want another base of power than the Red Keep.”

     “Summerhall was to be the new palace.” Visenya had heard the dream was Aegon the Unlikely’s.

     “House Targaryen are too obsessed with Dragons.”

     “It is our blood. Old Valyria.”

     “Was too obsessed with Dragons.” Jon believed it, from his reading he believed they were also misunderstanding of the creatures.

     “You have powerful opinions, young man.” Visenya smiled.

     “If House Targaryen wished to be a House of Dragons, as they were in Old Valyria, they should not have fled to a continent inhabited by First Men.”

     “Why?” Visenya asked. Now they stood over Durk having arrived back at their camp. Jon started looking for utensils amongst their things to do what was needed to make the plants he collect helpful to the man in pain.

     “First Men…” Durk groan. “First men to abolish slavery.”

     “What?” Visenya looked down at her friend. Jon started a fire and asked one of the other men to fetch water to boil in a pot.

     “The First Men of Westeros were the first men to befriend the other races and make a law to abolish slavery across their realms.” Jon backed up Durk’s words.

     “The Valyrians were the first to ride Dragons rather than kill them.”

     “The Valyrians were goat herders.” Jon countered.

     “They built the greatest empire that ever was.” Visenya rebuked his insult to the Valyrian Empire.

     “Then they lost it.” Jon shook his head.

     “Who knew the Doom would happen?” Visenya defended her ancestors.

     “Daenys the Dreamer, of House Targaryen.” Jon answered her.

     “Blood of the Dragon, it gave her visions.” Visenya said proudly.

     “Bull.” Durk groaned. “Prophecy is bull.”

     “Explain how she knew then.” Visenya glared at her friend.

     “A dwarf told her; the Candles were going to erupt.” Jon said casually. “Fourteen volcanoes all connected. It was a powder keg waiting to happen.”

     “A dwarf?” Visenya scoffed.

     “Don’t mock them, Dwarves have forgotten more about the earth beneath our feet than men have ever known.” Jon said with awe.

     “Short misshapen people?” Visenya scoffed again.

     “You don’t have to believe me.” Jon shrugged.

     This new Aegon was starting to irritate Daenerys as much as the original silver one, he was supposed to be leading them to where he surmised his Blackfyre 'friend' was taking Jon or had taken Jon, or was with Jon.  He was supposed be taking her to Jon. He was mostly idly riding and gazing at her as if he wished to speak but wasn't.  He was annoying her.  She had been quite plain that she did not have time for lost Aegons, she was here to find a boy, a specific boy, not him. Geron and his men rode in formation making their party look like a military force, except for their wandering flower, or was that their buzzing bee?  Arthur had been caused to ride between the two 'royals' to save Aegon from Daenerys ordering Geron to slit his throat.

     "Princess," Arthur used his horse to move hers away. "He is just curious."

     "Are you certain he is real?" Daenerys wasn't.

     "I am certain his story is. Whether he is truly the babe the story is about, I am not certain." What it mattered was inconsequential, as even if he was the same child, he still was an imposter, still a Blackfyre, but at least he would be Elia’s. Arthur had looked at the lad, he believed this boy was Elia’s, he had some of her features and he had her heart, at least the one she had had before her brother’s twisted it in their schemes, the one Rhaegar may one day have learned to love. Arthur corrected himself, if Lady Lyanna had never passed through his eyeline.

     "Why would they send Aegon away?"

     "The time surrounding your brother's death was a time of turmoil and there was much confusion and uncertainty about the future.  It was for Aegon and your House's safety.  They thought it best to ... It was a terrible time in the realm.” Made worse by Rhaegar’s inability to refuse the draw of a wolf maid. Arthur did not blame Lyanna Stark she had been as stuck as Rhaegar, as he was married to a woman he had fondness for but could never quite give his whole heart to; Lyanna was betrothed to a man she had an affection for but could not have more passion for than that of an adopted brother.

     If only the Universe had not had their ages so diverse, eight years did not matter that much but when everyone held their breaths over their king’s madness and looked to their Crown Prince, he had to marry and produce heirs. The Martells wished to kick dirt in the Lannister’s faces for denying them an arrangement, and Elia wanted children to adore even if they weren’t the boy, she had loved’s. Which her first of course still was, but Rhaegar did not care, he still adored Rhaenys, and as Aerys did not kill the child when he discovered she was more Lion than Dragon Rhaegar let it go with a promise if Rhaenys never got anywhere near the throne and gave Aerys his Aegon then Rhaenys would never be harmed for Elia’s love of Jaime Lannister.

     Aerys had seen it immediately, Arthur thought before Rhaegar had. When everyone had been in an uproar about Rhaegar crowning Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty, Aerys had shrugged, said Rickard would be wanting his thousand Dragons, and could someone please send the Direwolf his winnings. Barristan had said when Lord Rickard appeared to save his son, Brandon, Aerys had asked if he was there for his Dragons. Barristan said curiously the reply was:

     “Worry Tarry will come for his. I told you my rose was meant for his son.”

     “I need my Aegon.”

     “Aegons always bring destruction before they bring peace. Tear down the old before they build the new. Be prepared Aerys, you are the old.”

     “As are you, Rickard.”

     “Yes, but I am not afraid to die for a new better world, you are.” Aerys arrested Lord Stark as a traitor and the rest is history, grisly hateful history.

     "Why was he never sent for?"

     "That is a very good question." Arthur glance at the blue hair lad.

     "Does he look like my brother?"

     "Not a lot." Jon did, but no other of Targaryen blood looked like Rhaegar, or was it that Rhaegar did not look like any of his relatives. A different brow, jaw, nose. Even his ears; Rhaegar’s were ever so slightly pointed at the top and he joked it was all that Dragon blood in his veins. And when his rage was in full blow his eyes changed colour, he lost the Targaryen hues of purple or blue and they shone amber, Arthur had only seen eyes that colour once, when hunting and he came face to snout with a alpha wolf, so strange for a Dragon.

     Daenerys saw if nothing else this ‘Aegon’ was causing Sir Arthur to sink into thought, about what she wasn’t sure but maybe he was reflecting on another enigma of her life: Rhaegar, her brother. So many diverse things were said of her brother. He was good and kind, but he betrayed Elia and stole a northern girl, starting a war. Eventually it is said he caused her death and almost the deaths of his entire family for an insane lust of a teen girl, who was betrothed to Lord Baratheon.

     Geron took the Dragon by the horns. "Blue boy."

     "I am a prince. I would ask for more respect."

     "Yeah, you aren't my prince. See all those fellows with swords and such." Geron spread his arms around the men surrounding them. "You aren't their prince either."

     "You work for Princess Daenerys." Aegon did not understand how this man and his men ‘worked’. They were employed by his aunt to find a slave she was purchasing. She was purchasing a slave to free him. This slave was more important to her than the possibility that the Prince Aegon she had known her entire life was an imposter and he, himself may be the real one. She acted like that revelation was nothing in comparison. All that and these soldiers did not revere his position as a prince in the slightest.

     "No, we don't.  I lied to your guardian." Geron smiled a bright smile that almost made his words not mean anything, how did he make someone wish to like him just by smiling?

     "So, you are a lying scoundrel." Aegon looked disgusted.

     "No. I never lie to a good person.  Your guardian is not a good man, so I lied to him.  Do not get me wrong, he is far from the worst I have met, but he is not a good person, but I suppose he does try.  Anyway, I am not going to waste time talking about him, I wanted to talk about the princess."

     "Are you going to tell me she is off-limits?" Aegon smiled. Technically she was his betrothed. He wasn’t so sure now he knew her that he wanted to pursue that relationship. Mainly because her eyes were set on a different horizon. Aegon could learn to love such a beautiful girl, especially considering how intelligent she seemed, but really if she was so concentrated on finding this slave, he doubted her focus would leave the slave until one of them left the world.

     "Hell no.  You can try, I doubt you will get anywhere.  I was going to say if you have questions, ask her, don't stare, I think you are creeping her out.  I mean she just met you and you are gazing at her all the time. Bit creepy." Geron knew Aegon had no chance, he had seen the princess’ reaction to his prince, there was no way this boy could divert her. King Aerion would not be getting his revenge on House Targaryen and Aerys and his kin, this feud would be healed by an alliance. Jon would never allow his grandfather to hurt Daenerys. Marriage may just settle the bad blood.

     "She is... She knows... I have ... she..." He kept stopping because there was so much, he had so many questions he did not know where to start.

     "I get it, I have no contact with my family, and I feel that disconnect.  You feel you have this trailing hook and if it would just snag on one thing. Start small, Daenerys cannot answer everything, but I am sure she would be happy to answer some of them, to give you something. Just stop looking at her as if you want to consume her.  She cannot tell if she should need a chastity belt or a really big waterskin for her long story." Geron might say he hated House Lannister and he did, but he still missed having a family to cling to.

     "Is it true The Blades only take high paying contracts that are death only contracts?" The man’s mercenary company stirred Aegon’s curiosity and he needed to determine what they were if he was going to have them around him and his aunt. Sir Arthur was legendary but even he could not take out this many men.

     "We don't take Death Contracts.  We also never abduct. We also take most of our contracts for free, if they are freeing people of oppressors." Geron said quietly.

     "The Gold Company, is famous for never failing a contract once they have been paid."

     "If we find the patron was false in their contract and misrepresented the situation, we return all their gold and reject the contract.  The most we will do is refuse to divulge their secrets to their enemy.  Usually we take no part in the conflict."

     "How can a sellsword company be so picky?" It sounded idealistic. It sounded great, but unrealistic. Aegon did like how it sounded though.

     "We aren't sellswords.  We have a patron.  We have a liege, we answer to. He allows us to work across the world but we are always at his call.  Most of the money we make goes to those in poverty we have encountered."

     "Really." Aegon could not keep the awe out of his tone.

     "Hence you see why I say your guardian is not a good man, not bad, but not good." Geron watched as Arthur allowed the princess to return to the centre of the column. "Remember talk to her like a person."

     "Thank you." Aegon took a breath, he was grateful, because he had not been sure what he had expected when he met Daenerys, but the girl was not what he expected.  He had been told she was beautiful, and she was far beyond his expectation, she was breathtaking.  He didn't know if he thought he would fall in love or she would swoon at the sight of him, which seemed ridiculous now he considered it. Whatever he thought, it had not happened. Griff had spoken like they would connect on some deep or higher level and return to Westeros brushing aside the imposter and take over the Seven Kingdoms.  That was never going to happen. Not between Daenerys and himself.

     Aegon took Geron’s advice though he steeled himself for her brush off but rode slowly closer until he was within speaking distance of her and although she eyed him suspiciously, Arthur Dayne did not move him off, and Aegon figured that was good. He, however, was under not delusion that the knight trusted him, he knew even if he was not aware of it, Arthur was keeping an eye on him.

     “Essos must be a culture shock for you, Princess Daenerys.” Aegon thought to start with some idle small talk to calm her.

     “It is different.” She said with a guarded tone, he did not act rebuked, but she knew she had been too closed off. “Not all bad.”

     "Slaver’s Bay isn’t the best example of Essosi culture.” Aegon had been given a wide exposure to Essos. And he thought maybe he had been blessed slightly by not having been stuck in the cloistered life his imposter was.

     “Slavery is disgusting.” Daenerys saw no merit in the practise.

     “Strangely, it is not all bad.” She glared at him. “There are many versions and many levels. Further east, there are cultures where the slaves are sometimes treated better, more exalted than the freemen. There is one culture I and Vy encountered, where a pleasure slave is so highly exalted that a highborn man can be executed for mistreating her. She is owned but only her master commands her, all others must bow to her. Her caste is so treasured by her society.”

     “Jon had to risk his life to fight for the pleasure of others.” She saw no merit in any society that put Jon in danger.

     “Ahh, yes, the mythical magical Jon.” Aegon said the name quietly.

     “He is not mythical he is real.” Daenerys snapped; she would not let this ‘prince’ insult her Black Cell Boy. “Do I need call someone to free me of you?”

     “Oh, I have seen him fight, I know he is real.” Aegon did not show his surprise at how easily she would order someone’s death for this young man. He knew with no doubt his aunt was in love, and he knew Griff would not like it, but he was happy for her and his imposter would probably agree with Griff. Lucky he was the real Aegon, because he could release her from their betrothal, if he liked this Jon Snow and thought him worthy of her.

     “You watched him fight?” She stared at Aegon as if he had admitted he had kept slaves, “Did you wager on his fighting?” She asked in a tone that said she would no longer think him human if he said he did.

     “Yes and no. I saw him fight, he is very skilled. I never wagered on the fights. I understand it will not stop slavery, but I will not condone it either with my coin.” He saw a softening in the princess’ demeanour, he had gained a point in her favour. “How long have you been searching for him?”

     “Mother has spent our whole trip in pursuit of Jon.” Daenerys answered.

     “I was not talking of this trip, I meant overall.” Aegon spoke softly to show he was truly interested and did not condemn her interest in the lad.

     Daenerys turned her head to gaze at him surprised, she had not been searching for Jon. Well, only since he disappeared from the pyramid. “The day before we met.” She said with a tinge of confusion. “No, I suppose the night before we met, I decided to search for him, but I only started that morning.” Aegon smiled, he did not believe her, a princess did not get on a horse and journey into the deserts of an unknown land for a person she barely knew.

     “I meant, how long have you pursued him?”

     “I have not!” She snapped offended by his inference she was… whatever he was inferring. She was betrothed to Crown Prince Aegon, as he had pointed out technically him. She was not betraying her betrothal and pursuing some random boy!

     “Not looking for lost Aegons?” He repeated her comment. “If this Jon was a prisoner in the Red Keep, you did not simply stumble on him.”

     "We did in fact. We were exploring the Black Cells because we were bored, and he was there in the last one.” She corrected him.

     “So, that explains day one. What about the other days?”

     “What?” She blinked as he caught her.

     “You stumbled on him on day one. You searched him out on day two and everyday afterwards.” He pointed out the inconsistency to her story, he understood she may not have seen it that way but if she had gone to see this mystery of a boy for multiple days after the first one, at some point she had search out this Jon Snow to enjoy his company, to be with him. Aegon the Blue, was not his imposter, though he too had been told his entire life he would grow and be wed to the most beautiful princess in the world, and they would reign as king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he was happy to let her go, if her heart set in a different horizon.

     “I was just curious to why a boy would be in a Black Cell.” She explained her curiosity.

     “Why was he?” Aegon was honestly curious.

     “I do not know.”

     “Why was he, Sir Arthur?” Aegon spoke louder so the knight could hear, though he was sure Arthur’s hearing was sharp enough he needn’t have bothered. Daenerys turned to look at Arthur who simply stared forward.

     “He will not tell you.” Daenerys informed Aegon.

     “Why will he not tell you?”

     “I do not know that either.”

     “I understand him not telling me. We don’t even know if I am just another imposter, or really who I have been told I am; but he knows you are his princess. Is this Jon Snow’s true identity so very dangerous?” Arthur flinched as if to stop himself looking at Aegon as Daenerys shrugged, but Aegon took his answer. “Ah, so it is. It does not matter.”

     “Why does it not matter?” Daenerys asked this blue haired boy.

     “Because it is dangerous in Westeros and we are in Essos.” Aegon smiled. “If it is dangerous even here then your slave boy is very interesting.”

     “It is dangerous everywhere.” Geron said to get nods from his men. “Dangerous for any who would harm him.” Aegon got a poignant look. “So, hope your lady friend has been kind to him.”

     “Anyway,” Determining Jon’s worth politically, was not Aegon’s purpose. Determining his worth personally was. What was Jon Snow’s true worth to Princess Daenerys, because Aegon doubted it was her compassionate heart. He got the distinct feeling it was her passionate heart that this Champion of Meereen, this Black Cell Boy, this Jon Snow, had. “Why are you searching for him?”

     “Why is your lady friend?”

     “She wants to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

     “How does stealing Jon get her that?” Though both apparent Targaryens found Arthur thought this worth hearing as he slowed his steed.

     “She heard some rumour that says he could, I do not know what, she would not speak of it for she distrusts Griff when it comes to Westerosi politics.” Aegon shrugged.

     “How does that work? She as a Blackfyre wants to usurp the Targaryens; Connington wants to put you on the throne as the rightful heir. You both lead the Golden Company…” Arthur saw the split and tensions it must cause.

     “I and Vy are like siblings, admittedly Griff hates it. We simply swore to not harm each other in our pursuits.” Aegon seemed much calmer about it, then Silver Aegon would be if he knew someone opposed him for the throne.

     Daenerys quirked her eyebrows in a strange angle at the blue haired boy and he started laughing at her, her expression changed to irritated but he just laughed harder. “What is so hilarious?”

     “I just wonder if your eyebrows are real or caterpillars you have trained to do your bidding the way you can move those things.” He pointed at her.

     “Lords do not tend to laugh at me.” She snarked at him.

     “I am a prince not a lord.” He said seriously. She pouted at him.

     “This is why I have no time for lost Aegons.” She quickened her horse’s pace to match Arthur’s and rode away.

     Geron rode forward. “I thought you wanted to discover more about your family.”

     “I found I am curious about this boy everyone is so interested in.”

     “Don’t get too curious.” Geron warned.

     “Because he is dangerous?” Aegon turned to look at Geron with curiosity.

     “Yeah.” Geron confirmed.

     "Then I am even more curious.” Aegon gazed after Daenerys. “Especially if my aunt is in love with him.” He turned back to Geron. “She is in love with him, isn’t she?”

     “I doubt she has had time to determine that in truth.” Geron admitted, though she had declared to him she did.

     “Some people only need a glimpse.” Aegon said quietly as he gazed after Daenerys, he thought maybe Daenerys was one of those, Daenerys and this Jon Snow.

     “Are you superstitious Aegon, the Blue?” Geron asked with a tinge of amusement.

     “There is a wise woman in Meereen. They call her The Grace; she is the only person I have ever met and believed could talk with Gods. I have met many who claim it, but her I believe, every word she speaks. She speaks so few. She says love is not instantaneous.” Aegon looked at Geron and Geron saw no jest in the man’s expression, and he understood he too had seen The Grace.

     “Yet, you said only a glimpse.” Geron prompted him to explain himself.

     “She also says, those who fall in love at first sight have been gazing at each other for eons.” Aegon gazed at Daenerys. “Perhaps my aunt, is so determined because her sight has been obscured by Vy taking his eyes away from her vision.” Geron gazed at the blue haired boy, wondering at his demeanour, was it from sharing the real Aegon’s womb with him? He was known for his insightful words when he wasn’t trying to rattle someone’s cage.

     Geron hoped Darkstar wasn’t rattling too many cages in King’s Landing currently, the man went a bit off the rails sometimes if he was geographically, and chronologically separated from Jon. Essos was too far, six months was too long, he could have sent Aerys right off his tree by now. He sometimes questioned why everyone watched Jon so closely when his brother was the troublemaker. Jon could be trusted to be rational and calm, Aegon could not.

     “I do want to ask her a thousand questions about my family, but I found I just had to ask her about this slave boy of hers.” Aegon did not understand it himself, maybe because she was the family he had right now, right here and he wanted to understand her, because she was real. His family had been imagined for so long. Her feelings for this slave were a large part of her reality currently. Maybe it made her more accessible for him too. She was just a girl, who could love a boy she shouldn’t, like Aegon was a prince who considered a girl who should be his enemy as his sister. Daenerys was human and messy like him.

     He did not get to talk to her until they made camp that night, he started by apologising for embarrassing her. “I and Vy laugh and jibe each other all the time, sorry. You probably don’t do that with your family.”

     “We don’t.” She said with some regret. “Father is very paranoid.” She exhaled heavily. “I wouldn’t try being one of us if I were you.”

     “I have no choice.”

     “You want to be Crown Prince that badly?”

     “No. I want to return to my family. I like Lord Connington and I love Visenya, but they aren’t my true family. I want to embrace my mother and sister. I want to know what having a mother is like.” Aegon showed her a little of his soft underbelly.

     “I don’t think Silver Aegon will like your return. He will argue you are the imposter.”

     “For all I know I could be. I have to see. Hope if I am the real one, my Mother will know me.” Aegon feared she wouldn’t. “What if she doesn’t?” He looked at Daenerys and she saw his worry.

     “I do not know.” She reached out her hand and for the first time she placed her hand on him and touched him. “Regardless, as my father is insane it might mean nothing.”

     “He could simply kill me.”

     “Or insanely accept you. Or yes, kill you.”

     “Thanks, you have made me feel much better.” Sarcasm dripped from his words like sauce from meat.

     “I do my best.” She gave him an honest smile. She was beginning to like this Aegon better than the one at home, even though she hardly knew this one at all. Maybe she liked that he had none of the terrible habits Aegon the Silver had learnt from her father and brother.

     “If your father, my grandfather accepts me as the real Aegon, what does that mean for us, for you?” He saw the flash of worry as she snatched her hand back. “I have no interest in forcing you to continue a false betrothal. Will he force us?”

     “He would.” She nodded sadly.

     “If I refused?” She looked up at Blue Aegon and saw he would refuse if she thought it would help her. She wondered why; he hardly knew her.

     “It would not matter.” She thought he should understand there was no freedom in Westeros.

     “Should we make it impossible for him to do it?”

     “How?” Daenerys doubted anything could change her father’s mind.

     “One of us marry someone else before we get to Westeros.” Aegon said it simply and easily.

     “Like who?” Who would he wed? This Visenya? He said it would be weird as she was like a sister to him.

     “Well, you could wed this Champion fellow.” Aegon had no idea how that plan did not jump screaming to the front of her mind but as her head snapped to him and her eyes looked wide and astounded, it had not gone anywhere near that direction.

     “I…” Geron said Jon was the missing prince, but why should she trust Geron anymore than any other stranger she did not know.

     “Would love that?” Aegon thought that would be her answer but he was surprised as she just shook her head, muted by his suggestion. “What exactly were you planning once you found him? This boy you love. I mean I get the distinct feeling you do not wish to return to Westeros and marry Aegon, me or him. I thought you wanted to find this Jon and live, cornily happily ever after.”

     “I… I… I do, but I’d never be allowed to.” Daenerys looked at the ground with a frown that could break the hardest heart. Even if Geron could be trusted to be truthful, even if Jon was some missing prince, surely his grandfather would hate her House. Why would Jon ever forgive her for her father’s tortures?

     “Allowed? We are in Essos, not Westeros. They’d have to find you, to catch you, first.” Aegon smiled as if he thought it was a non-problem.

     “That is very kind of you to suggest, but it would never be allowed.” Daenerys gave him a genuine smile of appreciation.

     “He is a brilliant fighter; he could probably keep them off you for quite a stretch of time.” Aegon could imagine quite a long stretch, especially with The Blades aiding them.

     “Eventually they would kill him, and I would never forgive myself.” Daenerys could not live in a world where Jon died because of her.

     “Well, I think there is much more to this slave than we know. I believe whatever it is we do not know may just be a saving grace for the two of you.” He leaned forward to whisper to her.

     “Are you the same young man who told me he was technically my betrothed a day or so ago?” She smiled at him. If the secret was as Geron said, it could, or it could be their breaking.

     “Yeah, I am smart enough to realise that might have been a premature announcement. I do want to go home and be me. However, I want to be your friend, I do think we could be friends, and friends do not marry to be miserable for the rest of their lives.”

     “I might not have been completely miserable.” She forced a half-smile, not completely miserable. Marry the Blue instead of the Silver may have brought her a happier existence, but now little could compare to the dream of a boy from a Black Cell.

     “Well, a nephew should wish his aunt to be happy, and not even the littlest bit miserable.”

     “You are very different from Aegon the Silver.”

     “Do you really think he is laying with his sister, my sister? Princess Rhaenys?” Aegon looked disturbed.

     “My brother Viserys, inferred it. I do not know. She had said some things to reassure me about my future marriage that might suggest it too.”

     “Then let us hope that I am no imposter. If he is an imposter, then.” Aegon stopped and looked sickened. “Then they were doing nothing wrong.”

     “Except they grew up believing themselves siblings.” Daenerys reminded Aegon, it was still not healthy behaviour.

     Aegon shivered. “Is it that I was not raised within our House?”

     “No, I was raised within our House and I cannot abide it either.” Daenerys assured him.

     “Good, I am not totally weird then.” He grinned. “May I ask you some other questions about our family?”

     “Sure, I will try my best to enlighten you to every dark little corner of our House.” She chuckled at him. They talked late into the night, bonding over the information she espoused to him and becoming closer as the family they could very well be. Daenerys went to her bedroll with a smile, maybe having this nephew would be nice. Even if he was an imposter, she would try to get him to be allowed to stay, Aegon the Blue was a good potential friend.

     Durk’s fever had broken but he was still in pain and the key was still firmly stuck in his large intestine, they needed a physician and Yohan had returned saying there were no villages or camps close enough with good enough healers. Visenya was worried and Jon said they needed to make for one of the great slave cities or Durk’s life was on the line, his remedy would only keep the pain and fever at bay for a day or so more before the man would turn septic and then Durk would be dead.

     As if Durk’s fate was not bad enough the sentry came in, riders were approaching a military formation, flying no flags or banners. Too far off presently to make any details out but headed this way. Visenya decided that she and Yohan would go out and meet them, try and buff that the entire Golden Company was here and to take a wide berth. Jon said he was a terrible liar so would stay with his scarred friend.

     Visenya and Yohan suited up and hoisted their banner, She only hoped it worked, they may question why they were in the middle of nowhere and if the entire company was here, why only two come out. She would need deal with that when she got there or be prepared to run. Jon said she should take the other three men to make it look more authentic but she said she needed him and Durk guarded in case they had more flanking them.

     Daenerys, Geron and Arthur watched as a slight soldier rode beside a more regular portioned one bearing the banner of the Golden Company. It seemed Aegon had been correct, this was indeed the path his fellow companions had taken, it was strange they had not made it further though, and why they were riding out to meet them like this.

     “I will take the lead.” Geron said as he urged his horse forward. “Elkman, go get the blue prince.” The man who wielded the spiked Warhammer headed back down the line.

     “Keep your horse behind mine princess, until we determine how this will play out.” Arthur moved his horse to shield Daenerys. She nodded and slowed her horse to fall in behind the kingsguard. Hoping Aegon could defuse all this with his presence.

     “Halt!” The soldier bearing the Golden Company’s Banner called. So, Arthur did as did the rest of The Blades, all but their commander. “I said halt!” He repeated.

     “I will not be yelling at your commander, it is rude to scream at a lady.” Geron called, and only stopped his gelding when he was within a distance that he did not need to yell at Visenya. “Hail, and good day to you my lady.” He bowed quite well for a man in a saddle.

     “Hail, good day good sir. May I ask why you are travelling this way?” She may have been raised in a sellsword company, but she was noble blooded and she knew her courtesies.

     “We are seeking.” Visenya found this man to be handsome and well spoken, he was no buffoon, it would be a shame to have to kill him.

     “What are you seeking?”

     “We are seeking you.” Geron grinned as if he had caught her, and in truth he had she was not expecting that.

     “Me?” She sounded as if that was a strange answer.

     “Yes, you, Lady Blackfyre, and a guest you have travelling with you.”

     “I am not sure you are correct in your searching. What makes you think I am this Lady Blackfyre you seek, I mean I do not know you.” Visenya was very concerned. How did he know who she was and how did he know she had Jon?

     “Shall we cut the enigma and lies and get to it. I am Sir Geron, of The Blades, I am currently helping Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen to find her friend Jon Snow the Champion of Meereen who you had abducted from the House of Wazir and we have been guided here by Aegon the Blue of House Targaryen.”

     “Aegon, the Blue?” Visenya thought that was strange. Made sense, and it was kind of funny if she thought about it but still the blue. Then she saw him riding up on his chestnut gelding, blue hair flowing in the desert breeze a concerned look on his face. Aegon, The Blue. She chuckled.

     “Vy!” He called as he got closer hoping he had gotten to the front before there was trouble.

     “Egg.” She said with affection in her voice as he stopped his horse a head before Geron’s.

     “We didn’t expect to come upon you so close. You have hardly travelled. Is something wrong?” Egg looked her over worried for her welfare.

     “Yohan go back and explain the situation. We are caught. But Egg has … Have you secured a merciful punishment for us Egg?”

     “I don’t know. I know so long as he hasn’t been harmed, they will negotiate peacefully. Right?” He turned to Geron.

     “We are ready to talk.” Geron nodded.

     “Why have you stopped?” Aegon asked Visenya.

     “Durk swallowed a key. The idiot is real sick, he might die. It is stuck in his gut,” Aegon heard the crack in her voice, Visenya was a tough one, but she loved her men, she considered some to be family. Durk had a special place in Visenya’s heart, she would be broken if she lost him.

     Visenya lead them back to their camp, and she took the opportunity to look at this princess everyone said was so very beautiful and damn but they were right. Visenya wasn’t interested in girls, but she could see what guys would be attracted to. What Jon would be attracted to.

     When the newcomers got to their camp Visenya watched the princess. Jon was wrong, so very wrong. Princess Daenerys was very much in love with him too. She had ridden quietly, you would have wondered if she was even alive, but as the girl’s amethyst eyes alighted on Jon Snow she sat up and she started to glow, her eyes brightened and she smiled a glorious smile. She vaulted from her horse – the older knight vainly tried to catch her then shrugged at the futility of the endeavour - and ran to where Jon was crouched over Durk, spooning some medicinal drink into his mouth.

     Princess Daenerys stopped mere centimetres from Jon as he stood and turned to face her, he looked down surprised to see her before him. They both took a deep breath, then smiled wide ecstatic smiles.

     “Hello Jon.” She sighed.

     “Hello Daenerys.” Jon replied, then he looked perplexed. “What are you doing here?”

     “I wanted to apologise for running away.”

     “So, you chased me all the way here?” He watched as she bit her lower lip adorably and blushed.

     “Yes, I suppose I did. I didn’t know when I would see you again, so, I came to get you.” She wore the most adorable smile he had ever seen, though he had never seen a girl smile adorably, he was pretty sure no other girl in the world could look quite so wonderous.

     “Thank you.” He really was thankful, she had no obligation to do anything for him and yet here she was.

     “Oh, you are most welcome. However would I have explained to Ghost if I lost you?” Daenerys smiled coyly at him, she didn’t know what to do next, she just wanted to touch him to see if he was real, but she had never touched him while he was awake before.

     “I would imagine with difficulty. It is good to see you are feeling better than the last time I saw you.”

     A few feet away Visenya and Aegon stood watching the other teens as they reunited, her silver head cocked to the left; his blue head cocked to the right, almost meeting in the middle. Both wore an expression of disbelief.

     “I think I might just have a toothache from how sweet they are.” Visenya said.

     “I know.” Aegon replied. “Wow. Do you think we should get a bucket of water?”

     “A tent?”

     “A holy man?” Aegon turned to look at Visenya as she slowly turned to look at him.

     “Sorry, Egg. Looks like your princess is taken.”

     “So is your usurping king.” They then went back to staring dumbfounded at the two other teens who by this stage had run out of small talk and were just gazing at each other smitten. Geron came to stand beside the two Golden Company Dragons.

      “What are we thinking?”

     “They’re obviously in love.” Egg and Visenya said in unison.

     “It kinda cramps your plans doesn’t it?” Geron spoke with amusement.

     “It would be evil, plain evil to break them up.” Aegon said as he stared at Visenya, as if telling her she wasn’t allowed to do it.

     “I am not the one betrothed to one of them.” She said defensively. “Anyway, he refuses to topple Aerys.”

     “Yeah, she isn’t interested in marrying a prince and sitting around sewing.”

     “Do princesses sit around sewing?” Visenya asked.

     “Apparently. So, maybe you would hate being queen.”

     “So, you met your princess, and Griff hasn’t got you married yet, how’d that happen?”

     “Daenerys had no time for lost Aegons. Apparently, my grandfather would prefer seeing you than Griff, according to my Grandmother. I am to go home Visenya.” Aegon exhaled and his face fell into a contented smile. Visenya’s face became the opposite.

     “I will miss you Egg.” She frowned, though she was trying to be happy for him, she really would be lost without him.

     “Hell no, you are coming.” He turned and took her by the shoulders.

     “Lord Connington is staying.” Said an authoritative voice. Visenya turned to see a man dressed in white desert garb with some splashes of red silk.

     “Visenya this is Sir Arthur Dayne.” Egg introduced them.

     “He is imposing.” Visenya looked him up and down. “Am I to go in chains, for the treasonous crime I have committed?” Aegon was confused.

     “No, he is unharmed. As long as he isn’t dead the king will be forgiving.” Arthur said with little emotion.

     “Both of them.” Geron confirmed. Arthur was not sure to Geron’s meaning but they needed to make plans.

     “What is our next move?” Arthur said to the three younger people. Jon and Daenerys were transfixed currently and of no help to any decision making.

     “Durk needs aid.” Visenya said to Aegon.

     “Astapor is the closest large city.” Geron informed Arthur.

     “A slave city.” Arthur did not sound like he was agreeable.

     “The man needs a physician, not a moral high horse.” Geron said as they looked across at the man near Jon.

     “We should return to Meereen.” Arthur knew the Queen wished to be far from Essos.

     “Durk would die.” Visenya snapped at the cold seeming knight. Her tone caught Jon’s attention and he tore his eyes from Daenerys. Her eyes followed his.

     “What is happening?” Jon said as he moved towards the group who had been their audience.

     “Queen Rhaella waits on us in Meereen.” Arthur said to Jon and Daenerys. Reminding the princess, they were to go home.

     “We cannot go back to Meereen right now.” Jon said in response, “Durk there is in bad shape, he has a metal key locking up his intestines, he needs a physician. We need to get him to one as soon as we can. That is our first priority.”

     “Queen Rhaella has negotiated your release Jon.” Arthur did not expect that would change Jon’s mind and would have been disappointed if it did. He saw the flash of shock race past in Jon’s eyes.

     “Well, that will have to wait. Durk’s life is more important.” Jon said postponing his freedom, Arthur nodded. “Where is the nearest town with a physician likely to be?”

     “Aegon?” Daenerys turned to her new nephew she may not be sure of the woman, but she trusted her blue nephew, and if he didn’t know, Geron would.

     “Astapor.” Aegon said as he looked at Visenya.

     “Astapor.” Geron nodded to confirm.

     “Another slave city.” Arthur sighed disappointedly. Arthur clenched his teeth, he had grown adept at hiding the expression of fury, in his long duty of protecting his friend’s son over the years. Aerys barely knew how much Arthur truly hated him, if the madman had any idea how many nights Arthur’s famous sword had left its sheath with Arthur’s desire to remove Jon’s torturer from the boy’s life, Arthur ‘s head would have been on the Executioner’s block years ago.

     “We are in Slaver’s Bay, Sir Arthur.” Aegon pointed out, surely the knight should not be surprised.

     Arthur was not surprised; he was merely tired of the deplorable places Jon was cursed to live in. Was it such an inconvenience to the world for the lad to live in a peaceful place with no danger? Though even with the queen wishing to free Jon, would his life be upgraded? Arthur doubted anything could repay the sins visited upon him. The knight looked across at the shy smile the boy was giving the princess and thought to change the boy’s future more radically than even his queen had plans for.

     “Astapor.” Arthur said. “We build a sled for the man and we set off as soon as we can."

     “It is not safe to travel by night in the desert.” Visenya informed the knight who had no idea of the dangers of Essos. “Not with such a small group.”

     “I heard tales of how great the Golden Company is and The Blades. With Jon and I, who poses a danger to us?” Arthur said with confidence. “We build a sled and travel through the night.”

     “There could be Dothraki out there.”

     “There are Direwolves and Dragons with us, why need we fear horse lords? They are prey. We ride with predators. I mean …” Arthur pointed at Geron. “We even have a War Lion.” Then the knight started giving orders to both Golden Company men and Blades as if they were his own personal army.

     “Did you hear that?” Geron asked Jon.

     “How long have you been waiting for someone to call you a War Lion?” Jon smiled at Geron.

     “Too long.” Geron fake wiped a tear from his eye, then turned to his men. “Is Sir Dayne speaking a foreign language? We are Westerosi, do what he is ordering you to!” The Blades started following Arthur’s commands at double time.

     “Astapor.” Jon said as he turned to the direction of the city they were heading to. He felt a hand enter his and close around it, when he looked down Daenerys had placed her hand in his and she looked up at him.

     “This was a little more of Slaver’s Bay than I was expecting to see.”

     “I promise to keep you safe.” He squeezed her hand slightly.

     “I trust you will.” She squeezed his hand back.

     “I mean, how would I explain to Ghost that I lost you?” He asked her with a smile, she returned it with a slight blush.

Chapter Text

     Rickard Stark had always loved the wide-open spaces of The North, he had spent many hours standing on Winterfell’s walls looking over his lands and enjoying the silence of his realm. Aerys had envied Rickard and his peace, envied his strength in a world that gave people so very little and took so very much. It had taken so much from both of them, but Rickard had remained tall as Aerys crumpled. Aerys should not even know the Lord of Winterfell, yet somehow he felt Rickard had become his closest confidante. Aerys knew he was insane, Rickard was constantly telling him that he was mad to converse with a dead man, but Rickard was one of the few men he trusted.

     Aerys for his closest confidante gave Rickard some time to enjoy the world that Aerys feared. He would not stand on the walls of the Red Keep for Rickard abhorred the sight of the city below, the ignored masses. He would not stand on the walls of the City, for Rickard could find no peace looking out with the distasteful fates of people behind him, and Aerys did not believe traitors would not seek him to assassinate him there.

     So, Aerys rode into the Kingswood, a dark cloak over his signature silver hair so none would know the king rode out where they could touch him, with only Lord Commander Hightower as his protection and even his unique clothing was disguised. He had arranged to meet another knight out here where none would suspect the king would ever go.

     “What do you want?” Benjen Stark had little love of this man, the man who murdered his father, and brother who placed a price on his other brother’s head and had kept his sister’s son as a hostage for all the boy’s life. Black of hair and beard; black of clothing and demeanour towards the King, Benjen Stark was a black son still mourning a lost father and a stolen sister.

     “I am your king; you will speak to me with more respect.” Aerys would not abide such insolence.

     “I am a Brother of the Night’s Watch; I do not have to treat you with anything.” Benjen could do what his elder brother could not, tell this madman where to stick his crown and titles.

     Aerys wanted to rage but this man wore black and he was right, he was immune to Aerys threats, he swore to no king, only his order, older than the Targaryens and their Iron Throne, their seven united kingdoms. Aerys only nodded, he could do no more. Lord Hightower raised a brow, because Aerys should still be treat respectfully from a Brother of The Watch, but if he was going to let it slide, then his Lord Commander was happy to follow his king’s example.

     “Is it a Northerner trait to be disrespectful to your king?” Aerys asked calmly. “Your father, brothers and nephew always proved insolent.”

     “My nephew? Him, I do not know, because you have not allowed his mother’s family to see him.” Benjen said with barely hidden anger.

     “To keep your brother loyal.” Aerys said with a look down his nose at Benjen. “You should all be thankful, I allowed him to keep his head, and not lose it next to his friend Robert Baratheon. I also allowed him to keep the most beautiful woman in the realm as his wife, instead of that whore of your other brother’s Catelyn Tully.”

     “Yet, have not allowed any of us to see Jon even once.”

     “Yet, allowed you to bring him that beast as a gift.” Aerys replied calmly, Rickard would appreciate him being civil to his son. “Also allowed you to come south to watch it.”

     “What do you want, King Aerys?” Benjen narrow his eyes. He felt Aerys had an ulterior motive.

     “I simply came for a ride and wish to ask how the beast is fairing. It his health good?”

     “Why would you care?”

     “He is the pet of my grandson, of course I would care if it were well. He might be upset if he heard it was poorly.”

     “Since when did you care how Jon felt?” Benjen doubted Aerys felt much for anyone.

     “Again, he is my grandson.”

     “Which has never been even seen by anyone, how have you hidden him for so long?” Benjen thought however he did it, the method would not have been good for his nephew. He did not know the boy and shouldn’t care but he was Lyanna’s son and that meant he was the brothers only piece of their sister, they wished to have him be part of their lives.

     “How fairs the beast?” Aerys did not have to explain himself to this man or anyone.

     “It has a name.” Benjen replied.

     “Yes, Ghost.” Aerys may seem like he did not take much notice of Jon and his life, but he took great care to know every little thing about Jon and his life. Rhaella may have thought she snuck things by Aerys, but he allowed everything she did, allowed his three Kingsguards to take what liberties they did with his watches, Aerys had his own spies like The Spider, Lord Varys did.

     “I don’t understand you, your grace.” Benjen shook his head in confusion to the king.

     “Of course, you do not, your mind is not great enough. Your father, he was a great man, he understood me.”

     “You murdered him.” Benjen growled angrily. Sir Hightower placed his hand on his sword hilt telling Benjen Stark taking vengeance was a bad idea.

     “That was a very bad decision on my part I must admit. If I hadn’t, I could speak to him, instead of the rest of the idiots in my realm.” Aerys sighed to Benjen’s astonishment. “I do so regret letting your brother’s idiocy make me punish a good man. Your brothers, they cursed your family, with that woman, what was your brother’s wife’s name?”

     “Ashara?”

     “No, the other brother and the woman who nearly cursed both your brothers. The red witch one, from the Riverlands.”

     “Catelyn Tully.”

     “Yes, your brother should thank me for saving him from her.”

     “We have no reason to thank you for anything.”

     “Not true. I blessed House Stark above all other Houses.”

     “How?”

     “As I said I saved your brother from death and the curse of a terrible wife.”

     “You are mad.” Benjen shook his head and looked at Sir Hightower who only shrugged. “You have kept Jon from us.”

     “I did not know your elder could be trusted to be as smart as your father. If I was sure he would keep Ashara and not go to Catelyn Tully, protecting my grandson by keeping him close, well it would not have been necessary. I could not allow a known daughter of rebellion to be anywhere near my grandson.”

     “We would have protected Lyanna’s son.”

     “Rickard was dead, your eldest brother would have taken my head and given your sister to Baratheon trussed like a hog to please Lord Holster Tully and get in his daughter’s skirts. What proof did I have that any of her brothers would protect her like her father would?”

     “I would have.”

     “Because you sent the raven to Rhaegar about Robert’s abuse of her? You were too little. Else why did you not stop him? I ask you why neither of your brother’s saved her? You sent the message to Rhaegar for a reason. I would wager because you had not faith Brandon or Eddard would keep Robert off her.”

     Benjen glared at Aerys for a good ten minutes, then he swallowed and looked away. “I knew the prince would die to protect her, just like I would.”

     “He did. In the Riverlands.” Aerys stared into the forest.

     “Ned has been loyal, he has never even spoken to the other rebel lords, and yet you keep Jon from us. We don’t even know what he looks like.”

     “Rickard. With Aerion’s jaw and brow.”

     “What?” Who was Aerion?

     Aerys saw the reference to Aerion meant nothing to Benjen. “He has dark hair and your sister’s eyes, but Rhaegar’s brow and chin.” Benjen looked at the king with wonder at this news. “So, he looks much like you, Lord Benjen Stark, dark of hair with grey eyes, though sometimes they darken to brown, it is peculiar, but it is Jon.”

     “Why did you send him to Essos? You could have sent him north if you wished done with him, we would have welcomed him, he could be part of our family.”

     “He is Rhaegar’s son. What would he be explained as in The North some motherless bastard? No, he is a prince, and those that would harm him in King’s Landing would not have worried for a few extra leagues travel to assassinate him in The North. The Old Dragon had to see him, so he could take up the watch. He needed time to send his guards.”

     What are you babbling about? You are the old Dragon, unless you mean Maester Aemon, and I can tell you as a brother of The Watch he has no guards to send for Jon.”

     “How is the boy’s Direwolf?” Aerys returned to his original query, he had no time for family reunions.

     “Ghost. He is healthy and hunting well, strangely there have been few visitors to the Kingswood of late.”

     “That is because I will not have my grandson’s Direwolf hunted for some puffed up lord’s ego. I have outlawed people entering the Kingswood under punishment of death. Anyone found entering the Kingswood will be buried vertically two feet in the earth.”

     “No offense your grace, how is that a deterrent to any but children or dwarves?”

     “Head down.” Sir Hightower replied with a grimace. Benjen looked sickened.

     “Poachers surely will not take down a Direwolf.” Aerys said with a questioning expression at the Crow.

     “I have discouraged them.” Benjen admitted.

     “Good.” Aerys nodded at his Lord Commander. “Give him the gold.” The knight held out a small pouch heavy with coin. “Bribe the poachers not to speak if they see him.”

     “You know your peasants have never seen a gold coin before and this would be strange and exorbitant to bribe them with.”

     “I am a king how would I know that?” Aerys asked with annoyance, how was he supposed to know all the little details? “Go get it changed to something more appropriate to bribe them for their silence then. Now, if you excuse me, I have a comet to meet.” Aerys took his horse’s reins and started walking away from the other two men. The Lord Commander shrugged, he had learnt not to question the Mad King and he knew they had a much more volatile person to meet.

     His hair was blowing in the wind like clouds over a mountain, with one stormy streak. He smiled wryly at the horizon, though as he was in the middle of a forest, he should not be able to see it. He liked he did not have to abide by other’s rules, only his brother’s, and Jon was not making or policing any rules here.

     “Darkstar.” His peace was disturbed by Aerys’ screechy voice, it was strange, usually it was Viserys who had a screechy voice that made Darkstar want to yank his tongue out and set it straight so his ‘grandfather’ lost the tone that set his teeth on edge.

     “Your Madness.” Darkstar spun and bowed low.

     “Gerold.” Sir Hightower growled at the young man.

     “Sorry.” He looked chastened. “Your grace.” He bowed again.

     “As you are my eldest grandson, well grandchild, I will forgive you.”

     “You know if Rhaegar wasn’t your son, I am not your grandson, right?”

     “Viserys has no children, neither does Daenerys.”

     “If Daenerys married someone other than fake my twin, she could marry someone you would like her married to.”

     “I do not like the thought of my daughter marrying you anymore than your fake twin.” Aerys had no tactfulness.

     “Wasn’t thinking me.”

     “Or your real twin, half-twin, what is he to you?”

     “Wasn’t thinking him either. I was thinking, I don’t know a boy who you know, but have been not admitting you like.” Darkstar dipped his head to look sideways at the king.

     Aerys shook his head. “Nope, I have no idea to whom you refer. Give me another clue.”

     “Really?” Darkstar looked disappointed.

     He means Jon, you madman. Rickard chastised him.

     “Why didn’t he say Jon then?” Aerys asked Rickard though Darkstar and Sir Hightower heard him.

     Thought you were smart enough to get his clue. Rickard suggested.

     “Well, he was wrong. I didn’t guess Jon, you guessed Jon. How would I know what he was talking about if you didn’t explain it?” Aerys huffed in frustration.

     You recall, I am not real, right? Rickard asked.

     “Yes, I am quite aware you are not corporeal. Why do you ask?”

     You are speaking to me out loud with two witnesses, is all. Rickard shrugged.

     Aerys looked at his two witnesses who were looking quite concerned for the half a conversation they were hearing. “Oh well, I am mad.” Aerys shrugged. “So, I talk to people you can’t see, doesn’t mean I can’t see him.” Aerys looked to where he saw Rickard, standing in his heavy northern furs and leather gherkin, with Direwolves on his chest, and Ice on his back. “Ice is a beautiful sword.” Aerys smiled at Rickard as the northern lord nodded in thanks to the compliment of his ancestral sword.

     “So, I was saying if Daenerys married Jon, you could have her married to probably the only grandson who isn’t your grandson, who you like as your grandson. Though you show your affection strangely.”

     “Very.” Sir Hightower agreed.

     “I have explained this.” Aerys snapped at his Lord Commander. “If I showed my preference for him, they would kill him. Also, I must test him to ensure he is strong enough to reign.”

     “By whipping him?” Gerold Hightower asked with no understanding.

     “Whipping? You whipped my brother?” Darkstar looked about to disembowel Aerys.

     “I did far worse.” Aerys shook his head, disappointed in himself and his treatment of Jon, though somehow not guilty.

     “So, I have more reason to end you right now?” Darkstar found Aerys and his madness amusing but harming his brother and not understanding that would lose him his life, Aerys was too far gone.

     “I also kept the assassins away from him. The Dornish princes would have had poison smeared on his wet nurse’s teat.” Aerys sent a firm stare to the eldest son of House Targaryen in the lad generation. “I kept him alive.”

     “Not safe though.”

     “The world is not safe.” Aerys snapped. “Our family has never been safe, the world hunts us, always.” Had he protected his family so well they did not understand the danger simply having the flames running through their veins was?

     Darkstar huffed in frustration but he did not argue, he knew Aerys was right, their linage had enemies with long memories and old grudges. There were still those who held stinging wounds over the conquest of the Seven Kingdoms, it was not his brightest moment.

     “Why did you ask me here?” Darkstar knew his tone sounded sulky but he had been acting beyond his years for too many of them, and Aerys after all knew how young he actually was.

     “How is your mother?” Aerys asked cordially.

     “Same as she was at the breakfast you make her share with you every morning. Pretending she is calm when she is actually worried for all her little boys.”

     “Except you.” Aerys closed one eye as he looked at the knight. “As she is unaware you are one of her little boys. She seems to be thankful for your presence and service, but not concerned for your welfare, another expendable.”

     “She is finding the idea of the real Aegon returning exciting but is worried for the son she raised and is attached to as well. She knows her brothers will sacrifice one for the other, and Oberyn at least will not care if it is the real or the fake, only that it is as you say the most expendable.” Darkstar admitted, one would think he would have more loyalty to the intrigues of his mother’s House, but he only really cared for those of blood relation, so mother, sister and two half-brothers.

     “How will you play it if Oberyn chooses to sacrifice your real twin?”

     “He is my blood; I will kill my uncle.” Darkstar stated with a coldness to his voice, he might also do it for the fake one, not because the fake Aegon was a good soul, but Rhaenys and Elia were attached to him, Rhaenys a little too attached. Though not so incestuously since Aerys had allowed her to accept suitors correspondence. A strange frontrunner was Willas Tyrell, though not ‘officially’ as they were mostly pen pals, but Rhaenys would float off whenever she received his letters to read them alone.

     “Who is also your blood.” Lord Commander Hightower reminded him.

     “Yes, but I shared a room with my twin, Oberyn has done nothing for me.” His father had sent him to House Dayne and safety not Oberyn, House Martell did not even know he existed.

     “You are peculiar and unpredictable.” Aerys grinned at the knight.

     “Remember that, because you aren’t my blood either, King Aerys.” Darkstar smirked at the king.

     “Why are you so attached to Jon then?”

     “You would not understand. You never had a brother. Also, your Dragon Blood is thinner than ours. You were right to think Rhaegar or whatever grandfather and grandmother would have named him, would be a great heir and king.”

     “I am thinking, you and Jon would too.”

     “Jon, yes. Me,” He shook his head “I have too many vices.”

     “What kind of vices?” Aerys looked to Sir Gerold Hightower, he had informed Aerys of none, and to prove his lack of knowledge he shrugged. “I have not been informed of any.”

     “Firstly, and most importantly, I don’t believe the majority of people deserve to be alive, terrible attitude for a king to have. I have not the demeanour of my brother. He would be a benevolent king. I have no desire to serve a realm for any reward or privilege it might give. First sign of trouble, I would walk away and let them fix it themselves.”

     “So, my method.” It was how Aerys had so many hating him.

     “No, you are mad. If you were sane, I doubt you would be so neglectful. I am not mad, I am apathetic. I just don’t give two fucks about most peoples’ lives. Far as I see it, they are born, they live, they die. Waste of my time worrying about what they do between the birth and death bits.”

     “That is cold.” The king’s brow furrowed, because that was a terrible attitude for a king or even a lord to have and he did not even need Rickard to tell him that.

     “Hence why, I say you want Jon for your king.”

     “I do.” Aerys nodded, it had been his plan, since Rhaegar his favoured but not real heir rode off to rescue Lady Lyanna Stark, he wanted any child that union produced to sit the Iron Throne.

     “Marry your daughter to him and she will ensure your grandchildren inherit your throne. Possibly inherit a better one as well.”

     “You seem knowledgeable of your paternal linage and history…”

     “You want information.”

     “I want a guarantee Aerion will accept Daenerys if I can arrange a marriage, that he will not just annul their nuptials or hurt her to spite me.” Daenerys was his little miracle; she was the silver lining to his dark skies. He had not realised how dim her life had been as he kept her safe from the monsters at their gates, until she started disappearing to see a mystery boy who caught her curiosity, and she came into the Light.

     “Aerion is wrathful for what you have done to him. He will be wrathful for the harm you have done to Jon. He will not however take it out on a girl. He will not harm her. Jon may have to be the reason he accepts her.” Darkstar inhaled deeply. “He will not accept you marrying his grandson to your daughter if it is not a match of hearts. Sorry, grandpa but you cannot influence this one.”

     “I do not have to; I am quite sure my daughter was smitten with the boy I kept in the Black Cell.”

     “Yeah, but what about the boy?”

     “I do not know.” Aerys looked annoyed, but Darkstar saw an amused smile on the Lord Commander’s face and then it quickly smothered and his face return to neutral. It seems Sir Hightower knew something Aerys did not.

     Gerold Hightower was Lord Commander of the Kingsguards of Aerys Targaryen. He kept the king’s secrets, however there were a few secrets he had that he did not share with his king, ones that would do Aerys no harm. Jon’s care for Daenerys was one of those secret’s, Jon would not tell Arthur there was a girl visiting him in secret until Arthur promised no one would be told so she could not be harmed. Arthur had to tell his commander, but Gerold did not have to tell Aerys, so he did not.

     “I suppose when Rhaella returns we will know.”

     “Do you think Connington will contact the queen?” Darkstar asked, the Martells and their cohorts had taken a chance giving Aegon to Connington before they knew what was happening, Aerys hated Connington. Aerys may reject Aegon based on who raised him alone.

     “She will not tempt bringing that traitor here. If Connington crosses the Narrow Seas I will set his head upon my walls for all to see what happens to traitors.” Aerys sneered. “Or another fitting punishment for his betrayal.”

     “He lost a battle, miscalculated.” Darkstar did not understand Aerys hatred, Jon Connington had made a tactical mistake, made a wrong guess and lost a battle, he had not betrayed his king.

     “He did not miscalculate. He lost deliberately, so we were weakened and Rhaegar would need leave his safety to join the war. If Connington hadn’t lost that battle, Rhaegar could have stayed with Lyanna and they would both be alive today, and Jon would not be an orphan. I would not have had to make him strong, Rhaegar could have taught him. If you truly love Jon, you will hate Jon Connington as much as I do.”

     Darkstar did not hate Jon Connington, but then he had not seen his sin the same way Aerys did. He could see the king completely believed what he said, he blamed Jon Connington as much as Robert Baratheon, for the loss of Rhaegar to the realm. If Jon Connington had perpetrated this plan he was a dirty traitor and deserved any torture Aerys came up with, but Darkstar had heard Jon Connington loved Rhaegar – maybe a little too much.

     “I believe that is your paranoia, but you are king, and your will be done. So long as he does not try to hurt Jon, I don’t care.”

     “If he attempts to harm my heir, no place on the face of this world will be safe for him.” Aerys spat in anger.

     “You will have to stand in line behind, myself and King Aerion.” Darkstar said calmly, Aerys could see Rhaeagr in Jon and Darkstar his calm and long temper, he wondered what happened when someone reached the end of that temper.

     “Arthur, Oswell and myself too.” Sir Hightower growled.

     “So, was that why you asked me here? To discern Elia’s mind and welfare and ask if Aerion will slap manacles on Daenerys?”

     “I wished to see where your loyalties lay.”

     “Shit.” Darkstar cursed. “You miss rambling at Jon and wanted to replace him with me.”

     “You are not as good as the lad was at calming my mind. You could never replace him. I really wished to make sure you were not disloyal to your House, which is House Targaryen. I don’t care what colours and emblems you wear; your House is Targaryen.”

     “Fire and Blood.” Darkstar said their words.

     “Fire and Blood.” Aerys echoed them.

     “The only other Houses I give two shits about are House Stark and House Dayne, because they bear the old blood of the First Men, I am loyal to the Dragons.”

     “House Dayne is sworn to House Martell.” Aerys reminded Darkstar.

     “House Dayne has my loyalty, but I am no Dayne. You can place a Dragon in a Phoenix nest and it will always be a Dragon.” Aerys did not understand but he accepted Darkstar was loyal.

     “Shall we discuss what harm you have visited upon my brother while he was incarcerated under you Keep?”

     “No.” Speaking those tortures would shift Darkstar’s loyalties away.

     “Jon will tell me.”

     “Well, when he does, then can you come for my blood.”

     “I will.” Darkstar stood and walked away.

     “I did not give you permission to leave.” Aerys scolded him.

     The man stopped; he did not turn. “I do not need your permission, I am the Crown Prince of Winter, until Jon returns.” He walked on.

     “Insolence.” Aerys muttered.

“     Shall we return to the Keep?”

     “No. I wish to enjoy the quiet of the Kingswood for a while.” Aerys said. Rickard would like some quiet time.

     Aerys took a deep inhalation, to smell the free places of his realm. The fresh air, there was none in the city, filth everywhere even in the air. Dirty people with dirty souls. Rickard tsked though, the dirty people were like that because they had no choice, some would pay a king’s ransom to have clean water to drink and clean clothes and sheets, to have a bath. Many wanted out of their slums, only the wealthy thought the poor lived as they did out of some decision they had consciously made. No, Rickard reminded him, that Jon had postulate to him once.

     He hoped Rhaella was safe in Meereen, hoped Daenerys was getting to see Jon in the sun, as he was sure she had hoped she one day would. He worried two kingsguards were not enough to keep them safe. After having spoken of Connington, Aerys was concerned the man would harm his daughter and wife. He had rarely allowed his little sister out of his sight over the span of his life, she was too soft and kind for this world, he hated that someone could wound her and he would not be there to protect her.

     Aerys realised for the first time in many years he had thought of Rhaella as he had as a boy, his little sister, to be protected and kept safe, so she could be the hopeful little heart she always was. He stopped being so gallant when he had not argued their father deciding they would wed. He had thought it was a way to keep protecting her from the monsters, except he had become the monster in her life. One tear escaped as the Mad King remembered being a prince who just wanted to see his sister smile.

     Rhaella was not a shrinking flower as time had shown. Her Dragoness had hatched the day he had sentenced Rickard to die. He had not expected his sweet sister to strike him and draw blood when he informed her that Stark was dead. Only his kingsguard, dragging him away had saved him that day.

     There was never true peace between them since that day. One particularly terrible fight had ended in him taking it too far and Daenerys being conceived. They had never shared a bed or even a couch since that day. Rhaella, played the part of a dutiful queen and a quiet wife before others and especially their children, but he saw the hate behind her beautiful eyes. Eyes that never smiled at him, only her children or grandchildren. He only got the cold stare of hatred, she had said as he showed her where she had opened his skin that she would never forgive him for killing Rickard Stark.

     Aerys had not been aware that Rhaella even knew Rickard Stark that well, had she met him when she was being courted by Bonifer Tarry? Aerys did not understand why Rhaella had taken it so hard, why that was the reason she had finally had enough. He remembered she had screamed and sobbed that she had let him have anything and everything, but he should not have killed him, anyone but him. Was it because he was Lyanna’s father and Rhaegar would be angry?

     Why were you so damn special? Problem was Rickard could not answer that question, he just sighed sadly and stared off into the distance, and Aerys knew no more than he had before. Why Rhae? Why was Stark so special?

     There would be no answer, he would have to ask her when she came back, maybe it was time he told her the truth, Rhaegar wasn’t theirs and he was trying to protect Jon in his own mad way. He should probably go back now and see if there was any news from Essos.

     Darkstar had left Aerys with a purpose in mind, he was going to check up on another family member who was in the Kingswood, against royal order, but then she was probably there against everyone else’s wishes too. No ordinary guards would dare stop her, but they may stop and arrest who she was meeting. It would terrible if he was detained and she was left waiting for hours.

     Darkstar had read the note after Aegon had found – torn through Rhaenys’ hiding places – it and thrown it crumpled on the floor in anger. He wanted to ensure that anger had not nixed the rendezvous.

     “Shouldn’t the lord be carrying the heavy basket?” Rhaenys asked in an amused tone.

     “The lord would be gallant and do that, but the princess chose a difficult to traverse area to meet.” The cultured voice of Lord Willas Tyrell came to Darkstar’s ears.

     “It is not difficult to traverse, it is a small stream to cross and a small mound to walk up, to sit under a lovely tree.” She defended her choice.

     “I do not know if you noticed, but I only have one leg. Your small stream, small mound are a river and a mountain. Might I also mention your lovely tree has a maze of roots as a defence system.” Although his words were whining the tone was jovial.

     “It isn’t that bad.” The princess smiled at the struggling lord.

     “Says the girl with two legs.”

     “You have two legs.” Darkstar turned away from his sister and her secret meeting, he would keep a watch for intruders, but if she wanted a private meeting, he would give it to her. He smiled at how happy she looked.

     “Could you tell my wonky one that?”

     “Bring it here and I will.” The princess laughed.

     “Is this because I am from The Reach, you cruel woman?”

     “Not at all.” Rhaenys said with joy in her voice. Though it was, Dorne and The Reach were still itchy in relations and her Uncle Oberyn had told her she was not to even talk to this son of House Tyrell. She had chosen this place not as a punishment for Willas, but to protect their meeting from the many people who would impress their politics on her and Willas’ friendship. “It is because it is a lovely place.”

     Willas finally got to where she stood and looked around at the spot she had chosen for their picnic, he had to admit it was lovely. He smiled warmly down at the beautiful princess. “It is a lovely place.”

     Rhaenys’ breath caught in her throat at the warmth in this man’s eyes as he gazed at her. She had never seen any man gaze at any woman like Willas gazed at her. He always looked at her like he was fascinated by every word she had to say and as if the rest of the world faded away when he saw her. Was she falling in love? How would she know, she did not know anyone who was in love, or even loved their spouse? “Thank you.”

     “No, thank you, for letting me see this beauty.” He did not take his eyes off her and she was glad she had her mother’s dark skin to hide how red her cheeks must be. “Shall I set the blanket, now I have done the long trek to get here?”

     Rhaenys smiled, he made many jests about how lacking he was because of his damaged leg and his limp, but he never let it stop him doing things. “Yes, please.”

     After he had set the blanket down and placed the food out and organised it all, Willas took her hand and helped her to sit. She watched as he took the agonising task of sitting on the ground himself, feeling guilty. He finished sitting with a loud grunt. “I do apologise, just letting the other beasts know, I am staking my claim to the spot.”

     “I am sorry Willas, I never even thought how terrible it would be for you.”

     “Oh, no. Did you bring a rope to lift me up after this?” He smiled at her.

     “No.” She hadn’t thought about it.

     “Do not worry Rhaenys, I will be fine. I do not usually put myself on the floor, but I do have my methods to get up.”

     “Are you sure?”

     “Hey, I got down here, don’t make me get up before I get some of this lovely food in me.”

     “Alright.” The princess picked up a piece of bread and put it to her mouth. She did enjoy her talks with this charming lord, he somehow was able to make her feel as special as the queen and as ordinary as any girl you might pass and say hello to.

     “How goes your hunt for a husband?” Willas asked buoyantly. Rhaenys sort of wished he was more jealous, that he did not speak like he had no interest in her future marriage prospects.

     “Slowly, my Uncle Oberyn it seems is weeding out the good from the bad.” The good for him, not Rhaenys, she almost wanted to go complain to her grandfather, after all he said she got to choose, it was her reward for her patience.

     “Gardening, is a specialty skill, I know Highgarden is surrounded and inundated with gardens, being a rose, I should know about gardening.” He chuckled, she knew Willas was trying to calm her nervousness, but he was not helping as much as he thought.

     “As it will be my garden should I not choose what is in it?” She lamented.

     “Not how it works, I have many gardens, I get no choice about any plant staying or going.” Willas shook his head just before taking a bite of his own piece of bread.

     “Who chooses for you?”

     “Grandmother, The Queen of Thorns herself, Lady Olenna Tyrell.”

     “I do not mean to be rude, but why are you not wed yourself Lord Willas?”

     “As high as my House is, no one wants a husband with a knobbly knee. I think people think I will fall off a cliff one day and Garlan will be Lord of Highgarden.”

     “Surely you have other traits that would overrule your… you being…”

     “Broken and crippled?” She nodded and felt terrible, though he did not seem offended by her words. “I know my intelligence is quite handsome, but there is a difficulty in showing it off.”

     “Why did you respond to my letter?”

     “Oh, because my grandmother got so very red in the face about it.” He grinned at her.

     “Sorry?”

     “How dare that jumped up… some not very nice and having met you very undeserving insults later, I thought I would see how you had offended her so terribly and then wondered what quality of responses you would get from them as I guessed you had sent out a blanket of invitations and just added a name at the top.” Rhaenys bit her lip in embarrassment because she had not put much effort to the project in her excitement. “I thought you might need an honest answer, and a friendly one. Also, you are quite a mystery princess.”

     “How?” It wasn’t like she was that boy in the Black Cells, hidden away.

     “His Grace has kept you cloistered behind the Red Keep’s walls for a very long time, I admit I wondered if you weren’t all just figments of his imagination. Your grandfather is known to be two wings and a fire breath short of a Dragon.”

     “Well, I am not imaginary. I am quite real.”

     “Yes, and now we all know why he kept you hidden.”

     “He is paranoid.” She sighed.

     “Oh, see I was going to say because of your beauty but you are probably correct, he had a good reason to hide you but did it for a stupid one.” Lord Willas saw his compliment had taken the princess by surprise, surely her appearance was not a surprise to her. Maybe it was just she did not hear it complimented much, no that could not be, many young lords and not so young lords had appeared to gain permission to court the princess, surely they had been singing her praises.

     “You don’t need to flatter me Lord Tyrell.” Please deny it was flattery only. She could not hold his eye in the event he confirmed them as true words and he saw her admiration or he confirmed he was just flattering her and saw her absolute devastation. Her Grandfather’s cloistering had denied her the development of an armour when it came to refusals.

     “Why do you think I was flattering you? I would think how candid we speak you would know I would not lie to you.” She chanced a glance up and saw he was concerned for her response.

     “As you have said, I have been cloistered a long time, I sometimes cannot tell whether people are speaking wind or truth to me, I have no political nous.”

     “I hope I am your friend, and I wish you to know I would refrain from speaking wind at you.”

     “Refrain?”

     “One can not promise to always or never do anything, for only a liar can say they will always or never do anything in their life.”

     “Then I will accept your promise to try to refrain.”

     “I am glad.” He smiled at her.

     “Do I need to get you that rope to help you up?” She said as their food and beverage was gone.

     “I did say I had methods.”

     She stood and waited for his struggle and he did struggle attempting several different placements of his cane to gain a stable fulcrum. She lent down and offered her elbow. Willas looked offended, she thought he couldn’t do it. “Let me aid you Willas.” She spoke quietly with no judgement of his inability only a wish to help. He sighed then placed his hand on her arm and levered himself up, using her as an anchor.

     As Willas steadied his feet Rhaenys cleared the blanket and folded it back in the basket. He felt like a heel to make her do all the heavy lifting when he was supposed to be doing it for the princess. She placed her hand in the crook of his free arm and held the lighter basket in her free hand. “Perhaps on our walk back you can enlighten me about your castle Highgarden, I have heard it is the most beautiful of all the kingdoms castles.”

     “As the princess wishes.” He took as large of a stride as he could on the unstable ground, so she was not held back by his handicap.

     “Willas.” She kept pace with him, which was not hard.

     “Your highness.” Maybe he was still going too slow.

     “Could we maybe walk slower, I am not in a hurry to be returned to the city or the Keep. I would like to spend more time with you, my friend.” Willas wondered if she was being kind to the cripple, but as he searched her face for the pity people usually gave him, he found it missing and a content smile only.

     “As the princess wishes.” He reduced his gait to what was comfortable for him.

     “Slower, Willas.” She felt like dawdling with him through these peaceful woods.

     “Sure.” Willas nodded. He had no problem with rambling slowly through the woods with the princess, she was lovely company and he knew for certain she did not look at him as a cripple, even if he was. “I shall now ruin the rest of your life by telling you of my beautiful castle so every other one will be a disappointment to your senses after knowing Highgarden exists.” She chuckled at his joke and remained quiet so he could extol his love of his home and she could imagine what it might be like to live there.

     Elia was worried, Rhaenys had been out all day, and at some point Aerys had left and returned to the Keep, had he seen something and now he was angry? Aerys made her share breakfasts with him, but he did not usually bother her after dusk. Tonight, he sent a demand for Rhaenys to present herself, he had something he needed to discuss with her. Had Rhaenys mis stepped somehow. Elia had asked many questions of her daughter when she finally returned backed up by Aegon’s queries and then Oberyn had interrogated her and sadly her daughter had refused to talk and only Cersei had stood for Rhaenys.

     Cersei had reminded Oberyn and Elia, Rhaenys had nothing to answer for, the king had given her freedom to explore, neither believed she was bedding random men, did they? Of course not. So, leave her alone. Rhaenys was beginning to love her Aunt Cersei, the woman was a lion. Not to mention Stefan had arrived with Jo'Hannah and her cousin was not averse to cuffing a certain crown prince for being a ‘prick’ up the back of his head.

     Stefan was not what Rhaenys expected in a ‘Son of Dorne’; Aegon said rumour had it that Cersei had been promised to Robert Baratheon and the man had taken his wedding right early, that Stefan was a Baratheon. Stefan heard Aegon and said he heard when Elia gave birth to Aegon they couldn’t tell which was the prince and which the afterbirth. Stefan had also brought with him one of his Sand sisters, Nymeria, she was quiet and deadly with a whip. Jo'Hannah  followed Nym - as she called her – everywhere, if not her then Stefan.

     Rhaenys was worried as she entered the long throne room, her grandfather was not there yet, for the throne was empty. Had he heard she was in the Kingswood with Willas? She would not allow Willas to be punished for being her friend. She set her shoulders ready to be a Dragon.

     “Why are you doing that?” Her grandfather’s voice came from the side of the room, she quickly looked at him and then at the throne. “I don’t have to always sit on it just because we share a room.” He did not sound angry.

     “You asked to speak to me.”

     “How goes the hunt for your husband?” Rhaenys smiled because he was the second man to ask her that today. “Why does that make you smile?”

     “I have sent many letters out and some responses have been returned, Uncle Oberyn is vetting them.”

     “Good on him, I applaud your plan. Very sneaky.”

     “Sneaky? I don’t understand.”

     “Bury him in responses so he will be busy deciding each man’s political use and value while you are courted by the man you want.”

     “I have not done that.”

     “Who is that by the way? The man you want. Who have you decided will be your husband?”

     “I just told you Uncle Oberyn is sifting through the list to give me a short list…”

     “I thought you were joking. I thought you were burying him in paper, while you found yourself a husband.”

     “No. Uncle says...”

     “If Oberyn Martell tells you who to marry I will cut his tongue out!” Now Aerys sounded angry, because he was. Oberyn Martell had no right to take away his gift to Rhaenys.

     “He is helping.”

     “Oh.” Aerys walked behind her and passed onto her left side. “So, if he said… Edmure Tully, and you did not like the redheaded idiot, you would marry someone else, who you did love?”

     “I…”

     “Rhaenys,” Aerys came closer to his granddaughter and he did so not want to touch her, but Rickard growled at him, so he placed a hand on her cheek softly. “I said you could choose any man, so you could choose someone for you, not for a House or politics. I want you to find a man to love.”

     “Why?”

     “Some do not get that, some lose that, some never recover. Tell me with all your invitations has there not been one response you liked?” Aerys saw her chew on her lower lip and look down at the ground.

     What is that? He asked Rickard.

     There is a man she would like to know better. Rickard replied with a smile.

     “Rhaenys?”

     “He… Uncle has said no.”

     “I am sor… No, Rhaenys you see that.” He pointed at the throne. She nodded, how could she not it overpowered everything. “I sit that thing, because I am the king, I said you could choose, so as King I say yes. I don’t care what your Uncle says.” He spun back and forth in his rage. He turned back to stare at her. “It isn’t Darkstar is it?”

     “No.”

     “Your brother or Uncle Viserys?”

     “No.”

     “Cousin?”

     “No.”

     “Then I most definitely say, yes. I can make it official, get me a quill and parchment and I will make a royal decree and then even the man cannot say no. I will have him tied and dragged to the sept of your choice. He isn’t married, is he?” Rhaenys shook her head. “Doesn’t matter I would annul his other marriage if necessary. You want him granddaughter and he will be yours.”

     “Grandfather.” She spoke sharply to pull him up. Aerys stopped and looked at her. “I do not know if I love him yet, but he is…” Aerys stood expectantly. “He is from The Reach, Dorne is … we are enemies.”

     “Rhaenys, you are a Targaryen, not a Martell. Regardless, if you are enemies, even more reason to marry, to make peace, the Gods know this realm needs some. Which is my bad, I admit it. My point is as the reigning royal line, no one is supposed to be our enemy even if they all are. Fuck House Martell if they deny you chances of a man you could like. You do not answer to Doran or Oberyn Martell, maybe you should remind your mother she doesn’t either.”

     “You would support me if I choose one, they disagreed with?”

     “I would. Who is it?”

     “Please, don’t take offense but I would keep that secret, tomorrow you could wake up and wish to kill him and I do not wish to take that chance.”

     “No, fair enough. I am completely insane; I could wake up tomorrow and think I am a chicken.” He giggled at his example, and the disappointed look on Rickard’s face. “Do not give this man away for your Uncle.” He said more seriously. Then shocked everyone by kissing his granddaughter’s head. “Go.”

     Rhaenys was confused but she left with the joy of knowing presently the king was on her side if she rebelled and sought Willas Tyrell.

     Aerys stood silently in the room for about five minutes. “Do we all think the lucky lord is Willas Tyrell?” Rickard nodded, but of course he would agree, he was Aerys’ imaginary friend.

     “I would wager that was his identity.” His lord commander replied.

     “And you?” Aerys asked the last two people.

     “My birds can find out.” Varys cooed.

     “His birds have already confirmed it to him, he just doesn’t want to give up the ace yet.” Darkstar snarked at the Whisper Keeper.

     “My birds have only told me that our princess exchanges letters with the young lord and they have met a few times.”

     “Regurgitate it.” Aerys demanded.

     “Your grace.” Varys was taken back by the king’s demand.

     “Birds. Regurgitate. Feed me your information. It is your metaphor why am I explaining this to you?” He turned to raise his hands at Rickard, he was glad to see the stable lord nodding in agreement, he was not being strange, it did make sense. “Seriously, am I the only person here who has his head on today?” He asked Rickard.

     You never have your head on straight. At least Rickard never pandered to him.

     “They left the city today.” Varys said quickly.

     “Is she still pure?” Aerys asked no one in particular.

     “Not sure she was when she left, but if she was, she still is.” Darkstar reassured the king, Lord Willas had been a gentleman.

     “Meaning what? Has someone tainted my granddaughter?” Aerys looked at Varys as if the next words he said could set him alight.

     “Your grace.” Varys did not wish to go into that murky pond. Aerys glared at the Secret Keeper, he knew something, he was not telling Aerys something, because if Rhaenys was no longer a maid there was someone in the Keep who had lain with her, not a stranger, someone within his very Keep.

     “Don’t whimper at me.” Aerys knew no matter who was Rhaenys’ father, if Rhaegar was her father, or as he suspected Jaime Lannister was, she was not his grandchild, he had watched her grow and call him grandfather for a score of years. He remembered the first time she had come stomping up the throne room hall to him with a cranky face and screamed ‘Popa’ at him then smiled proud of her achievement and kissed his knee. Who had dared to touch that little girl? “Was it that little Blackfyre?” Varys’ head shook slowly, and his mouth hung open slightly with his concern for Aerys’ deductions, and what it could mean for the prince.

     “Oh, your grace, I don’t think Lord Varys knew you were aware that Crown Prince Aegon was a fake.” Sir Dayne said with a smirk.

     “Hate to ruin your big reveal, if that was the plan.” Aerys did sound apologetic. “I was aware he was a Blackfyre, and an actual Blackfyre too. Do not worry I presently have no plans to out your imposter.” Varys smiled relieved. “Unless he touched my little grandgirl, then I will skin him and fill his skin with straw.”

     No one looked settled with that image, but Aerys was mad and did not care, he had to look after the girl, her father was dead, and her brother was in Essos. “Darkstar, find out who hurt my Rhaenys and bring me his appendage.”

     “I will discover if someone hurt your Rhaenys and I will bring you said appendage.” Darkstar bowed. “However, if he, whomever he may be did not hurt her, he will be keeping his appendage.”

     Aerys stared at Darkstar then took a very deliberate step toward him, he placed himself as close as he could to the knight, who was truly the heir and spoke as quietly as he could. “I will forgive past transgressions, if it will see Rhaenys happy, because your father loved her as his own. I will not drag her past up, for the same reason. In your search for this truth, if you find any male of my kingdom touched my little princess however, he dies, because she has never agreed to any boy touching her.”

     Darkstar turned his head slightly so his words could be as quiet. “You do not know what she thought in the darkness of the dungeons. What stirred within her breast.”

     Aerys took a step back. “I know as with the generations before her, love. The fire of the sun and the ice of the moon. They circle the world.” He then left the room sounding like a madman rambling, repeating. “Always circling. Always circling.” Lord Hightower followed his king and Varys stared at the remaining Sir Dayne.

     “The king…”

     “Do not concern yourself, Lord Varys, the Blackfyre imposter did not rape his sister. I will make you aware that even if your replacement conspiracy with the Martells is revealed, and his affair with Rhaenys is revealed, he will not be taking the princess as his wife.”

     “I am sure I do not know…”

     “I know Jon Connington has taken the real Aegon to Queen Rhaella.”

     Varys smiled a knowing smile. “I see you are well informed Lord Dayne.”

     “I am, I should also let you know that regicide is still a capital offense and punished by beheading.” Darkstar walked out of the room allowing Varys to contemplate what he might of his parting words.

Chapter Text

Arthur was watchful of the two teens whom he had watched for all their lives, so close but never together, he smiled as Jon looked confused and Princess Daenerys blushed. 

“So, Jon Snow,” Aegon the Blue, decided as he watched this young man who was only maybe a year younger than him but had seen a much harsher life, he would interview him in the interests of being a good nephew.  He had dark eyes focused on him quickly. “How have you found Essos?”

“I could be humorous and say with a ship, but to be honest mostly I have seen little of it.  I have always been travelling it, in some type of box.” Jon answered.

“Box?” Aegon did not understand, he found the thought detestable though.

“It is just more cells really. Cells, carriages, actual boxes.” Jon shrugged as if this was nothing.  Daenerys looked physically hurt by the words of this lad’s incarcerations.

“If you had agreed to my plan you would never have seen the inside of a box again.” Visenya pointed out as she idly torn the meat off the bone in her hand. “I would even have returned your name to you.” Arthur half-smiled and glanced at her sideways, this girl did not know Jon’s name.

“What plan?” Daenerys wondered to Visenya’s plan that would see Jon free. Aegon had said she thought Jon could help her be queen, how? Did Visenya suspect or know who Jon possibly was? Did she know Jon was ‘Rhaegar’s’ son?

“More chains really.” Jon said to the princess, not wishing Visenya to elaborate.

“Nice chains though.” Visenya winked at Jon to Daenerys’ shock. “Soft chains.”

“What is she talking about?” Daenerys turned to Jon with a tone of her status, she would know about this ‘soft chains’ plan; she got the feeling it was not Jon being her War Commander.

“A ridiculous plan that would never happen.” Jon did not wish to have Princess Daenerys hear how Visenya thought to topple her father and place Jon on his throne.

“I would have made Jon a king.” Visenya revealed, she understood Jon loved this girl and although it was just as obvious the princess was attracted to Jon from their reunion, Visenya wasn’t convinced Daenerys would fight for Jon.  Jon deserved better than to be an amusement before Daenerys married an Aegon. She may not feel as Daenerys did for Jon now, but with time she might, and time may find Daenerys refusing him because he was not worth losing her pretty little tiara over.

“Jon does not require your help for that.” Geron said from over his cup.

“Oh, who are you to know anything?” Visenya challenged this soldier for although he dressed as a knight, that did not mean he was one.  In Essos, many people pretended to be what they were not.

“I am Sir Geron …” He knew if he used his Essosi surname she would disagree with him but what could he do?

“Lannister.” Daenerys ended his sentence when she saw him hesitate. “Son of Lord Tyrion Lannister, of Casterly Rock, future heir and most likely Lord of the Westerlands.”  Jon turned with surprise at the mercenary who had fought beside him in the Pit, a Lord of Westeros.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Geron said uneasily, he looked uneasy with the title too, Jon wondered why.

“I hadn’t heard Lord Tyrion had a son.” Visenya countered.

“Why would you?” Daenerys asked. “Who would have told you anything about the little intricacies of our Houses and their families?”

“I keep an ear to the ground.” Visenya spoke mysteriously.

“Who is your spy?” Arthur asked without pause, if she had recent news, there were spies who needed outing.

“I did not say I had a spy.” She kicked herself for revealing too much, too casually before the Kingsguard.

“Yet, to know the intrigues of Westeros, you must have someone feeding you information.  In fact, how did you know where to find Jon, to make him a king in your plans?” Arthur needed to know where to find this whisperer.

“The Champion of Meereen is famous across the lands.” Visenya could not put her informant in danger.

“Yes, but that does not explain why you would wish to make him the king in your bid for the Iron Throne, Lady Blackfyre.” Arthur guessed her plan and saw no reason to obfuscate the thing.

“I simply heard the Mad King had been cruel to him and he may agree.”

“No, you didn’t.” Arthur challenged her.

“I did.”

“No. Amazingly, Jon was Aerys best kept secret; the only one he was able to keep quiet on. Few knew he was born, even less know anything about his life.” Arthur knew that meant it had to be someone in the Red Keep.  A very select few knew of his tortures. The Starks knew he was born but were not even sure Jon was in Westeros.  Ashara had asked for Ned, if the boy was safe, he had hated stonewalling his sister, but he had sworn an oath.

“Why?” Jon stared at Arthur; he was never really that curious, but it was awfully strange as stories go.

“He had his reasons.”

“Did my father’s reasons have something to do with who Jon’s parents were?” Daenerys knew Geron had reassured her that Jon was not related but how could Geron really know? Arthur saw Jon’s eyes flinch, it was his great mystery, he knew the lad did not care for much of his story, but he had always asked about them.

“I would say so.” Geron said into his cup this time.

“What do you know?” Aegon asked, unlike Visenya he did not ask with a patronising tone but a curious one.

“Yes, Geron Lannister.” Jon looked at the first person he had strangely felt a true friendship with other than his Kingsguard watchers.  He had companions in the pits, but slave friendships as with their lives are fleeting. “What do you know about my story?”

“My patron believes he is your paternal grandfather, when he heard you were in Essos and finally free of King Aerys’ imprisonment, or whatever he thinks he was doing with you, he sent I and my men to Essos to find you.” Geron was not going to lie to Jon, too many had for too long.

“What kingdom does he hail from?” Jon wished to know if this man was a rebel lord, if this explained why he was kept.

“What do you mean?” Geron must clarify the question, for many were not aware his king or realm existed.

“Which of the Seven Kingdoms is this man who thinks he is my grandfather from?” Jon thought it was kind of obvious what he meant. He felt the princess wrap her hand in his to give him comfort in the event he did not like the answer.  He would not like it if it meant they were enemies.

“My patron is not from the Seven Kingdoms.  He does not bend his knee to the Iron Throne.” Everyone looked at Geron as if his words were gibberish, how could his patron be from Westeros and not bow to the Iron Throne?  The two statements could not exist together.

“My grandfather is a Wildling? I did not think they had gold.” Geron smiled at the speed of Jon’s wits.

“It is complicated.”

“Isn’t everything when it comes to me.” Jon huffed in frustration. He would give anything for simple. Simply living free, with his Girl of Honey and Roses, no politics, no intrigues, just a nice little cottage on a hill, near a stream, with woods for Ghost to hunt in.

“I don’t believe anything has been simple since Summerhall burned and Harrenhall had a tourney.” Aegon said to give Jon some solace.

“The world has been on edge for a long while.” Geron nodded.

“Where do we go from here?” Daenerys wanted more time with Jon but knew the likelihood was small.

“Well, this little lost Aegon is going to head to his bed.” Aegon said to get a smile from the princess, and a confused look from Visenya and Jon.  Jon did not understand the ‘little lost’ part but saw an understanding pass between the princess and the apparently real prince. 

“We all should rest.” Jon agreed. “We must get Durk to Astapor, it will not be an easy trip.”  All nodded and stood to go to their bedrolls, Arthur waited for his princess, but saw she had a protective guard in the boy, as Jon walked Daenerys to where her bed roll was to be.

Daenerys pulled the blanket over herself and Jon made sure nothing was around before he went to leave. “Goodnight, Princess.”

“Jon,” He turned to her. “What was Visenya’s plan?”

“I said it was silly.” Again, he went to leave.

“Jon, why won’t you tell me?”

“Your highness it was silly, too silly to tell you.”

“Yet, I wish to know.” She stared at him. “Don’t make me command you.”

“She was thinking of toppling your father’s reign and installing me as a replacement king.”

“How does that help her?” She could see the appeal of a kind soul reigning but that did not explain how that helped House Blackfyre.

“She was planning to be queen.” Jon spoke quickly to hopefully make the stupidity of the plan sound less crazy.

“She was planning to be your queen?” If Jon understood girls better, he would have heard the hitch in her voice and known she hated that idea, but Jon had little to no knowledge of girls.

“Yeah, silly. What did I say, would never happen?” Jon quickly went to his bedroll; he did not want to face the questions of what he thought of that plan.

Daenerys was silent as she thought on Jon’s words: Visenya was planning to make him king and she planned to be queen; Jon’s wife.  Daenerys did not think so.  She would scratch that girl’s eyes out, how dare she try to steal her Black Cell Boy, her Jon.  Visenya could be queen Daenerys did not care two hoots about being queen, hell she would walk Visenya down the aisle to whichever Aegon was to be king as long as Jon was not at that wedding as the groom.

The princess would need have words with this mercenary girl, tell her how it was.  Jon was hers and Visenya could lay and hatch a Dragon before Daenerys would let her have him.  She would shave all her damn silver hair off. Daenerys was not going to give Jon up, her mother had purchased Jon for her, in her name.  He was hers, had been hers since she had first seen him in that cell. Visenya hadn’t chanced the wrath of the Mad King to see Jon, she had not paid as Daenerys had, Daenerys had earned Jon, Visenya did not get to kidnap him and just have him.

Daenerys was of two minds, runaway with Jon right now. Go wake him and run.  Never see her family or homeland again, but also never have to give the dark-haired boy up. Or get back to Meereen and hope her mother could get Jon away from Visenya.  She really did not wish to take the chance.  She rose and wrapped up her bedroll and started to creep towards Jon’s sleeping form.

The princess found a hand on her shoulder.  She turned to see Sir Dayne with a frown of disappointment on his face. “There will be no fleeing.”

“I… I…” How had he known?

“Princess, greater things are occurring than you are aware.” He saw her desperation but could not allow her to give in to her fear. “No time for lost Aegons.  Be that brave princess, tell your father and if Geron is correct…” Arthur knew the gold lad was wrong, Rhaegar was Jon’s father, his paternal grandfather was insane, not paying someone to protect Jon. “… you need to see this through, no matter how scared you are it will end terribly.”

“What if it ends terribly?”

“Then Princess, you lived a good and honest life and maybe next life you will get Jon and get to keep him.”

“I want him in this life.” She whimpered softly.

“The Gods will do as they do.” Arthur smiled down at his princess who had faced many harsh truths and difficult ones in such a short time. “Hope one smiles on you.”

“Which one?”

“It is not like they have names exactly.” Arthur smiled but his princess titled her head and her brow furrowed. “My family is very old.  House Dayne is as old as House Stark, we are southerners, Dornish yes, but we are of First Men blood, we believe in the Old Gods of The North.”

“But you aren’t from The North.”

“Before the Andals came, there was no Seven, only the Old Gods of Westeros, not just The North, it is only that they have kept them more widely.”

“Sir Arthur, maybe you could tell Jon and I of these Gods of yours.”

“Why is that Princess.”

“Jon has northern heritage, and I am not impressed with the Seven.”

“Well, they say one was called Love, and I hope she is watching over you my princess.”

“I hope so too.” Arthur aided his princess to reset her bedroll and took watch over her, though he was sure Jon’s ever sharp hearing was keeping her safe too.

“Lion.” A dark-haired Blade with an ornate spear nodded to his commander.

“Wolf.”

“It is strange to be called that.” The man admitted.

“It was strange to be called Lannister this evening.”

“My father will help us get Jon to safety, Geron.” He assured his commander

“We do not know how this trip will go, Nic.”

“Get my cousin back to Westeros and The North will get him beyond The Wall.” This was Nicholas’ first tour in Essos, and he had joined The Blades only a year before, he had worked hard to be accepted into the exclusive band.  When Geron had said their patron was sending them to Essos, Nicholas had been curious, but when Geron had said their target was Jon, Nicholas had internally rejoiced.  He could take his cousin home to Winterfell, Aerys had kept Jon out of their reach but now, Nicholas could touch him, the lost cub their family had longed to see and touch, was only metres away.

“If the old king gets desperate enough, he will fly south and take him.”

“I honour my oaths, but I hope not.  House Stark deserves a few moments with him before another Dragon steals him from us.”

“I think we may have a greater problem.”

“The Blackfyres and Princess Daenerys.” Nicholas nodded.  He saw it the princess was overly attached to Jon and his fate.  Nicholas wondered how whatever that was had even occurred.  It was not his place to delve into it; he needed to get Jon to Winterfell and ask the king to give them sometime with Jon before he took him forever into the cold of the True North.

Jon was having his own mysteries to contemplate.  He did not even endeavour to work out what his story was, but he found he had a new emotion, and he was guessing it was jealousy.  He should not care, but he had not liked that Aegon and Daenerys had shared something private.  I should not care.

Even in the Red Keep, he had only dreamed of knowing her, always he had known he would never have those dreams.  He would never be equal to a lady of high birth. His dreams had always been just dreams; and in Essos she was a sea away. Only a dream. Even knowing who she really was only cemented that it was all fantasy.

She is betrothed to a prince. It had cut deep when Visenya told him, but he had to accept it. As a princess, even more of a fantasy than a lady, he had to let her be lost to him.  He had gotten confused when she showed up to find him.  Her reactions to him were far kinder and personal than they should be.  Some stupid thought as she never seemed to like the Prince of Dragonstone, perhaps…

He had forgot the lesson of his life, he never got to keep anything. The ‘little lost Aegon’ comment and the shared smile.  He had not put it together until then, but if this was the real Aegon, this blue haired prince was who Daenerys was really betrothed to and she appeared to be more amenable to this one than the other.

The most you can dream of coming true is maybe one day you will not wear chains of any kind. He had foolishly dreamed of more.  He would no longer delude himself. He would be happy for the princess; he would endeavour to no longer see her as his girl of honey and roses; he would no longer see her as the girl of honey and roses.  No, she would be Princess Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, hopefully his friend, but nothing more.

He was or would be happy for them. Aegon seemed good and noble and he made Daenerys smile.  What more could he wish for his friend, than a good husband, she was not averse to? He would be happy, he told himself with a growl in his voice, to hopefully make it stick.

Jon, Geron and one of the Blades were the first up.  Jon because he did not sleep well and darkness or light, did not order his day. The Blade came to Jon and nodded nervously.

“I am not your patron’s grandson; you do not have to treat me like anymore than I am.” He said with the fatigue of his long tiring existence.

“What are you?” Nicholas was aware of what Jon was. His cousin.

“A slave who was once a prisoner and is forever a nobody.”

“What makes you say nobody?”

“Many speak of who I might be and what the Mad King wanted with me.  Why he kept me.”

“So, they do.”

“If your patron is some Wildling king or other type of king, why did he not come for me sooner?” Jon asked with a raised brow. “Because no one did you know.  No one came, no one stormed the gates to rescue me.  There is and never was anyone out there,” Jon waved his hand around generally. “Looking for me.  No one for nobody.  I am only of import now because I make Slave Masters a great deal of gold in the arena.  Champion of Meereen.  I could have been easily the Gigolo of Lys. Making some other Slave Master gold in a different venture.”

“You do not know that.  For all you know your family travelled great distances every year to petition for your release and return to them.  That in hidden meetings lords spoke of tearing down the castles from their kingdom to the Red Keep to bring you home to a family that wanted you back.” The greater Lords of The North that were aware, had vowed to Lord Stark they would tear down the castles of the Westerlands, Riverlands and The Vale to march on Kings Landing if he wanted his nephew back.  They marched with Robert for their Lady they would march with Eddard for her son.

“No one wanted me back because as Arthur said no one knew I was born.”

“Some knew you were born; else how do you explain your Direwolf?” Nic may not know Jon, but they shared blood and he could not let Jon wander in darkness thinking he was unwanted. House Stark had sought him for so long.  If they had been sure Aerys kept him in the Red Keep maybe the North would have stormed Kings Landing. They did not, for if he were elsewhere and Aerys ordered his death…

“Ghost?” How did this Blade know of Ghost?

“Because he was white?” Nicholas did not know how the cub would or had survived, he had been so little, but Uncle Benjen had agreed with Robb and himself, the extra cub must have been meant for Jon, the Gods would not let a Direwolf be alone in the south.

“Because of that and he makes no sound.”

“Still?” Nicholas was mystified, the rest of the pack were boisterous and lively beasts.  “How big was he last time you saw him?” Jon raised his hand to where Ghost had stood at the shoulder.

“His shoulder.” To explain how large his tiny cub had become.

“Wow!” Nicholas exclaimed and the spearman did not look to be exaggerating his reaction. “None got that huge.”

“Sorry, none?”

“The rest of his litter, not even Nymeria.  She was big, a real alpha female.  That however is huge.” Nicholas came to place his hand next to Jon’s and then look at his own hand. “How big would he be now, being able to run free more?” Nicholas lifted his hand as he spoke to himself. “I suppose legends do say they got gigantic, but that is amazing.” He stopped looking at his hand and smiled at Jon.

“Have I missed something?”

“Wolf.” Geron came up to the two young men. Jon’s companion turned and nodded to his leader. “What are we discussing?”

“The size of Jon’s Direwolf.” Nicholas smiled a dazzling smile. “I cannot believe how big Jon says he is.”

“I am not lying.” Jon snapped.  This man was talking in a way that had Jon on edge. How did he know about Direwolves, and Ghost? Why had Geron just called him Wolf?

“He will probably get to the size of a small horse at least.” Nicholas spoke with awe.

“We know they get that big.” Geron did not understand why Nicholas was so astounded.

“Yes. However, Ghost has not been out on the Tundra and none of House Stark’s Direwolves are so big. They had more freedom, they should be bigger than Ghost, especially as he was the runt. Geron this is… phenomenal.” He turned to gaze wide-eyed at Jon.

“Something to look into later, go rouse the rest of the men.” Geron ordered Nicholas away.

With a short salute, the brown-haired soldier moved away, to do as he was commanded. “I wonder how Uncle is even hiding him if he is that big.” Nicholas said to himself.

“Did he just say his uncle was hiding my Direwolf?” Jon asked Geron.  Arthur said Jon’s own uncle was hiding Ghost and watching him.  If this man with the spear’s uncle was hiding Ghost, then that meant this man was some relation to Jon.

“Yes. I am sure he is doing a fine job; we will look into it when we get back to Westeros.” Geron thought it did not hurt to agree, it was true, and it wasn’t like it should be a secret.

“His uncle?” Jon wanted to affirm that information.  Geron wasn’t to know Jon knew the man watching his Direwolf was his uncle from one side of his family.  So, if he affirmed that piece, then Jon could assume that soldier was his… something.  He had a family member right over there.

“Yes, his father’s younger brother.”

“I was told a Black Brother was watching Ghost.”

“Yes, Nicholas’ uncle is sworn to The Watch. They aren’t born on it, he swore to it as a young man, I hear.  You would need ask Nicholas more about his uncle if you are concerned for your friend.”

“I will be.  Many questions I think.” Jon stared at the young man’s back, they must have been of an age, were they brothers? No, he did not think so. Cousins? Yes, they were most likely cousins. “Why do you call him, Wolf?”

Geron wondered if he should out Nicholas as a Stark, but he was Sir Arthur’s nephew so it should not be dangerous, if it caused issue with the Targaryens, then Arthur would defend his nephew once he was revealed. “All of our men have a designation, and some are animals.” Jon appeared disappointed by that explanation, so Geron gave a little more. “As I am Lion though, he is Wolf, it is to do with our Houses in Westeros.”

“Wolf as in Direwolf?”

Geron realised with that question, his prince was making a picture.  Would he put his beast companion together with Nicholas’ House?  Jon was quick of wits, should Geron give Jon more information at this time?  Mainly how would it go if there was a blow out, suddenly Jon may realise Sir Arthur was his cousin’s uncle.  He may ask more questions and it could get sticky for everyone.

“My prince, shall we deal with one side of your mystery at a time.  My patron is not from the side that gifted you your pet.”

“Ghost is no pet.”

“Yes, well that is something Wolf will happily side with you on. But we are here because of our patron not one of our men.”

“Are you telling me to drop it?”

“I am obviously unaware of a piece of information you have been given and given you more than I believe helpful presently.”

“The mystery of me.” He hated it.

“Sir Arthur is right, there is a reason Aerys kept you hidden.  Let us get to a place with more allies than enemies before we start laying our guts on the ground and giving it a good look over.”

Jon smiled at the picture Geron was giving. “True, best know what is around if we are going to do something stupid like that.  Staring into entrails is a time consuming and rarely enlightening endeavour.”  He would let it go, in so much as he would not make it apparent, he was interrogating this Blade.

They packed up quickly and started in the direction of Astapor.  The plan was: save Durk and get a boat to Meereen.  Jon was going to enjoy this ride more than the last, his hands were free, and he could gaze at the princess before she disappeared from his life.  He gave Daenerys and Aegon space when he could, dropping back in the line to speak to Geron or Visenya, Arthur or check on Durk.  Say hello to this Nicholas.

Daenerys turned often to see where Jon had melted to and found he was just occupied with other things; she did not notice she was left to speak to Aegon.  They did not waste their time, getting acquainted.  She found this Aegon much easier to get comfortable with.  He asked more questions about House Targaryen and she gave as many answers as she could.

Aegon noted Daenerys’ distraction though.  She was happy to chat and even had no problem when Visenya joined their conversation, but she was regularly looking for her lost friend. Visenya gave him a signal that they needed to talk.  He peeled off when Daenerys faded out to search for Jon.

“Is it just me or is something suddenly wrong with them?”

“He does seem to be avoiding my aunt.” Egg said to her query.

“Your betrothed.”

“You and I agreed that would be evil of me.”

“I told him before that.  You two are getting on brilliantly, you as the real Aegon and your betrothed.” Visenya got it, Jon saw the change in Aegon could see him alone, and gallantly withdrew.  Visenya hoped Daenerys was not so shallow, she did not seem it, but a crown is very pretty, and slave scars are not.

“Better Aegon than the one she endures.” Daenerys had not said anything firmly, but Egg suspected his imposter was not as princely as he should be. Aegon of Dragonstone came off as arrogant and entitled to Aegon of Essos.  Daenerys said her brother inferred Crown Prince Aegon had taken or been given liberties from Princess Rhaenys, but in the shadows he saw something else lurking, things Daenerys did not say.  Times she approached a vice of the prince’s and then shied from, Aegon was not gentle, Egg thought.

“Perhaps Griff will get his plan after all. You as King with your beautiful Queen Daenerys.”

“Daenerys is most definitely not going to fall in love with me.  Her heart lays on a different horizon.” Egg turned to look at the dark boy.

“Women have married for other reasons than love in the past. Forsaking the man, they love. Even, if you listen to your guardian, your own mother.” Visenya thought Jon deserved better than that, she still wasn’t sure Daenerys was better than that.

“My mother did nothing against my father.  She may have loved another, but she was loyal.” Egg defended her as he had to Griff.  He had no idea, Princess Elia could be no more loyal than a common sex seller, but he believed she was virtuous and faithful. “Griff was just … angry.”

“Jealous more like.  You’d think Griff was in love with Rhaegar by his words.” Visenya wondered sometimes.

“Friends can love each other, and it not be like that.  Brotherhood.”

“Sure Egg.” Visenya dropped it as she always did, for Egg. “However, point is things changed overnight.”

“Jon is intelligent.” Egg agreed, he came to insights quickly, he could be soothsaying in his head and it was bad for Aegon’s aunt.

“Meaning?”

“I would not be surprised if he saw the future futility and is starting the separation early.” Fading from Daenerys’ life, Egg could see how he would do that.  Problem was Daenerys had no time for Aegons, lost, little or anything. His aunt would not return to Westeros and marry an Aegon of any description with joy or true consent. He, himself would let her go, but maybe this imposter Dragonstone prince would not. Of all the boys in the world Jon was the only one who should not be letting her go.  Mainly because Egg was certain she would not go.

“Giving her up?” Visenya asked shocked, considering what the boy had said about the princess. Shit, he is too noble for me. She was sad for the boy who never seemed to get a victory in his honest life. Being a Champion in the Pits could not be equal to just one thing working out for you in your life.

“He was a prisoner and is still a slave, he knows the world does not build bridges so great.” Aegon felt badly for Jon Snow, from what he knew, Jon was in dire need of a bridge over one of his many chasms.

They had stopped for a rest; the sun was high and the road too hot to travel. Shelters were set up to shield them under the baking sun.  Sentries were set and the group rested, for their next start into the desert, but soon as their horizon showed, they would enter the foothills of some mountains and grassland beyond.  The sun would no longer cook them, but they would need be vigilant for Dothraki raiders.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked the lad. The knight had noticed Jon’s path away from the princess.

“Checking Durk is travelling safely.” Jon reported his activity.

“I mean with avoiding the girl.”

“I am not really princess social material.” He did not sound forlorn, but his eyes said he was. “This may hurt, but I just want to see how we, and I mean your key is moving.” He felt until Durk cursed and curled. “Not good, but not terrible, I think we may just save you yet.” Jon smiled at the scarred man.

“Jon, let me tell you about girls. They are mysteries and they decide if you are of the material they wish to be around.  Not us.  The princess, has decided she wants to be around you, so as her guard I have to tell you to cater to her, she is a princess.”

“As my friend, should you not save me heartbreak?”

“As your friend, I am not sure that is where you are headed.”

“Well, I am.  Best deviate slightly and avoid.  Friends. I and Daenerys are friends, or maybe acquaintances. That is all.  She will return to Kings Landing after her adventure and marry her prince and be queen one day.”

“She is not particularly fond of Crown Prince Aegon, if I am honest.” Arthur knew the boy should have hope, this trip had started with Daenerys too shy and afraid to admit she had spoken with the lad.  When he was in danger her true regard had been evident, she was focussed on keeping him in her life.  Daenerys had let the boy go, when she thought Aerys had freed him, but now she knew she could not trust he was safe, and she was determined to ensure it.

“She is fond of Aegon the Blue, who is the real Crown Prince, so she will do as I set out.  I will go elsewhere and live with Ghost.” Jon had a poker face of stone.

“Why not enjoy your friendship then, now. In the event a boy from a hole is not correct about how the world works.” Arthur counselled the boy. “Store up some good memories for your dark days.”

“All my days are dark, Sir Dayne.” Jon said as he wandered away. “I do not yet live in light.” Arthur knew he had no defence against such, the boy was not lying, darkness had been his life.

            Geron met his friend on the path from Sir Arthur. “I would agree with the white cloak. Enjoy some time while the princess is free to be herself.”

“Meaning?” Jon asked with suspicion.

“Princess Daenerys did not need to come find you. Princesses do not usually go off on adventures to save boys in distress.” Though Geron could think of a legendary one that did.

“I wasn’t in distress.” Jon was perfectly fine he had not needed saving.

“Princesses do not usually leave the safety of their castles.  Daenerys jumped on a horse and headed into the unknown. I think she may just have a different idea of what her future holds than we imagine.”

“You are suggesting I spend these last hours with an acquaintance I may never see again.” Geron wasn’t thinking that but if it got Jon moving then he would nod.

“She obviously sees you as her friend, I doubt she has many true friends.  Give her one.” Geron doubted Aegon the Blue was a danger to Jon in regard for Daenerys’ heart, she had no time for little lost Aegon’s; her focus was finding Jon Snow.  If you were not aiding that goal, she would just as soon have her men slit your throat.  No young man was a danger to Jon’s position in the princess’ attentions.

“Why?” Jon assessed why this man he hardly knew would aid him.

“We all need friends and as true as I am to you, you need more friends than just me.”

“I suppose I cannot cut off my nose to spite my face.”

“Yeah, don’t be doing that.” Geron patted his back and pointed at the packing up princess.

Jon walked up to the princess and took a deep breath. “Did you require any aid your highness?”

“Would you have agreed to her plan?” It had plagued the princess all night, all day, every minute.  Why did everyone wish to take Jon away from her?

“Sorry?”

“To Visenya’s plan would you have agreed?”

Jon looked uncomfortable because he was. “I don’t want to be king of anywhere.”

Large sad eyes turned to him, a quivering lip. “I meant the queen part.”

“I have no problem with Visenya being queen.” He didn’t, it might get her away from him then if the Blackfyre girl married an Aegon, pick one, anyone that was set to wed Daenerys.

“She was planning to be your queen.”

“I am not a king to have a queen.”

“Your wife.”

“I am too young and too inexperienced in the world to be choosing myself a wife.” Though if he had to, this girl was perfect. 

“Would you choose Visenya?” Daenerys wanted him to say no he would choose her.

“Who would you choose for a husband?” He could not answer that, he truly barely knew Daenerys, she might ask Arthur to slay him. When she just stared at him quietly trying not to burst forth with him as her preferred husband, he decided to start guessing. “The Crown Prince, back in Westeros?” He nodded towards Egg. “The blue prince here? Or maybe a lord of a great house.” He looked to where Geron laughed with his men. Daenerys followed his suggestions with her eyes and found none appealed.

“We don’t get to choose the ones we love.” She thought if she got to choose everyone who had held a conversation with her lately would say rightly, she would choose Jon.

“No.  We do not get to marry the ones we love.” He looked away before his eyes said something insulting to her.  “Me, I will probably never marry at all.”

“Why?” She did not like to know he would be alone, she did not like thinking he would be with another, but she hated him being alone.

“My story is not indicative of a happy ending.”

“We will make your story better.” He could marry a princess and live as a lord to a castle, with her as that princess.  Or if he truly was this patron of Geron’s grandson, then marry a princess and live as a king.  So long as in any story he married a princess - her – and they lived together ever after, even not happily, it would be worth every trial they may face.

 Arthur came up to grab his princess’ gear so he could load it onto her mount. They would be walking beside their horses to not burden them in the heat, and to slow the progress so Durk was not bounced on his sled.

“Maybe we should share our stories with each other, get to know something about each other.” Even thought he knew none of his story, he wanted to just hear her speak. “Tell me about yourself.”

“They say I am the most beautiful girl in the world.” She spoke the compliment she had no true care for. Probably not what he was asking, but it had become part of her somehow.

“You sound like you don’t believe it?” She should believe it.

“Should I believe it?” She believed it was all butter as if she were toast.

“Most definitely.” He said with conviction. He believed she was the most exquisite girl ever born, not just currently living. He had read tales of Sheira Seastar and believed she would pale in comparison.

“Oh,” She was a little embarrassed by his admission and how much she was affected by it. “So, I am the most beautiful girl you know?”

“Yes.” He said with a nod.

“How long have you believed that?” Was it until recently, because Visenya was very pretty too?

“Ages.” He had never thought any girl more beautiful than his Girl of Honey and Roses, even when presented with the visage of Princess Daenerys Stormborn.

“Okay.” Oh, she might just feint. “So, they are right?”

“In my opinion.  However.” He stopped and looked contemplative.

“However?” He could not have changed his mind already.

“I did believe that before I saw your face, so my opinion may not count for much.” He shrugged and gave her an apologetic look.  If she needed to know her face was pretty, he could not help her as he saw her heart first in their conversations.

“You believed me to be the most beautiful girl, before you knew what I looked like.”

“I thought when I saw you in Meereen, in the Master’s Box you were the most beautiful princess in the world but was sure the Girl of Honey and Roses was just as exquisite, if not more because I knew her heart was too.”

“Oh.” She sighed and blushed.

“Are you going to get someone to kill or flog me now for insulting you?”

“You just said I was the most beautiful girl, why would I be insulted?”

“You are a princess; I am a slave.  Different worlds. Should a slave even contemplate a lady or princess’ beauty as if he had any right to an opinion?”

“As yours is such a complimentary opinion, feel free to say it as much as you like.” Declare your everlasting love, sweep me off to anywhere so we can be wed and never see any Targaryen ever again. Snowfall of children, even if you are a northern no one. She smiled coyly.

“Except I shouldn’t as you are betrothed to an Aegon.”

“An Aegon?” He was poking holes in her future landscape of a blissful life reminding her of her commitments.

“Silver or Blue, a prince. Taken. Not anyone else’s to think about. I should not even comment on how beautiful you are, I should leave that to your betrothed.” It hadn’t stopped him, but it probably should.

“My mother said as there are two Aegons, she should think my betrothal to either, is negated, until it is all sorted out.” She was no longer sure if her mother meant forever, or if she had dreamt that is what the Queen had meant.

“Which means after it is, you will be betrothed to one of them again.”

“No. Not necessarily.” Maybe Geron’s patron could declare Jon a prince, and in the interests of peace she would be forced to wed the man’s heir: Jon.

Jon snorted in amusement. “I lived in a hole and I know that is how it will end up being.”

“I have no time for lost Aegons.” She declared to hold on to her dream.

“What does that even mean?” It was Blue Aegon and Daenerys’ private joke.  Jon wondered if he was just setting himself up for heartbreak.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You and Egg keep talking about little lost Aegons.”

“He asked me to take him to my mother and I told him I had no time for little lost Aegons. I cannot recall rightly if that was before or after I told Geron to slit his throat.” She screwed up her nose and mouth as she tried to recall which came first.

“Slit his throat.” Jon coughed in surprise.

“I had to find where Visenya had absconded with you to.  I was searching for a friend, I had no time for little lost Aegons and if he was going to insist, well Geron could slit his throat and then his wish to obstruct my search would be gone.”

“Surely finding me was not that important to the plans of a princess.”

“Jon Snow, who is the royal person here?”

“You are.”

“Exactly, so believe me when I say it was. When you are a princess you can make those decisions about what is important to you.” He should not question her. Jon was speechless, he couldn’t argue with her, and whichever Aegon won the princess as his queen was going to be very lucky, she would be a magnificent queen.

They never did get to learning anything else about each other that conversation. Daenerys dreamed of a life spent with Jon and he was confused to what was happening and when the world had gone insane that Daenerys would slit a prince’s throat for interrupting her search for him.

Jon found himself beside the Blade called ‘Wolf’, when the princess had grown tired and Arthur had put her on her horse to rest, Jon had melted away.  Arthur was more than capable of protecting Daenerys and he wasn’t going so far if they were attacked, he could not rush back to defend her.

“Wolf.” It was weird. “Do you have a real name?”

“We don’t use them when on mission.” Nicholas wanted to say he did and explain how they were related, but it might be too much for Jon right now.

“Geron, I suppose Lion, said I should make friends. How can I make friends with an alias?” Jon was not as simple as people thought. Also, he knew this young man’s name was Nicholas, Geron had already divulged that.

“My brother calls me Nic.”

“Well, Nic, if you have to be all hush-hush about yourself maybe you could regale me with tales of this brother of yours. What was his name?”

Nicholas saw what Jon was doing, Jon must have connected him speaking of Ghost’s littermates and figured they were related.  Rules said he could not speak about himself, but Jon was right the rules did not mention speaking of his family, so long as he did not say Jon was his cousin outright. “Robb.”

“Robb. Was your father on Robert Baratheon’s side of the rebellion?” That was disappointing, because it meant his family and Daenerys’ were enemies.

“Unfortunately.” Nicholas spoke with regret. “It cost us much, but he realised his mistake before the end of the war and did what was right.”

“Sided with the Targaryens?”

“Sided with his sister, rather than his friend.” In the end and always really for Lord Eddard it had been about his sister.

When he thought Robert was the side for Lyanna, he was loyal to the rebellion and his friend; had even given up the love of Ashara Dayne to be loyal and marry a loyal wife. When he found Rhaegar was in fact the side to support Lyanna, he did not turn his coat he simply surrendered to the nearest Targaryen knight. Hoping to speak to Arthur and discern how much the girl he loved hated him and if Lyanna was safe.

Lady Lyanna was dead by the time Lord Stark got to the Tower of Joy, but Arthur had left a message with the soldiers there to send Lord Stark to Starfall. There his father had found his first wife, not hating him but introducing him to his twin sons, Robb and Nicholas. Saying she had prayed to the Old Gods and they had told her to be forgiving, Ned would return to her.  She then told him Lyanna and her son were taken to the Red Keep.

King Aerys had accepted the audience and had calmly explained he would return Lyanna’s bones, and reinstate his marriage to Ashara, and dissolve his wedding to the ‘Tully succubus’, and was be keeping Jon.  Until the keeping Jon part it had apparently been an amicable conversation. Queen Rhaella had promised to keep Jon safe, Nicholas’ father had not truly believed she could.  Arthur promised to keep him alive, because Aerys was mad, safety could not be assured. Then his uncle had sworn on Rhaegar and Lyanna’s love that he would tempt his own head should Aerys come close to killing the boy.  That Lord Stark accepted; Arthur would keep Jon alive.

Jon felt by the slow pace this subject would close down quickly if he pursued it. “So, this Robb, how does he like being named after a Baratheon.” Move slowly away.

“He figures he can redeem the name.”

“Does your brother have a Direwolf?”

Nicholas smiled at Jon’s sideways interrogation. “Grey Wind, he is like Robb an Alpha wolf. Big fellow, but not as big as you say Ghost is.”

“Nymeria?” A name Nicholas had mentioned.

“My little sister’s friend; Arya, that is my little sister, she is a bit wild, so she has a tendency to go off, and once she lost her companion and after some months found her, Nymeria got huge being out on her own and she has never really seemed as committed to staying with Arya after they reunited.”

“Yours?” Jon assumed this Nic would have one too.

“I named her kind of pathetically I must admit.”

“Yours is female?” He would have assumed they had paired off by gender.

“She is, there were not enough males to go round in the litter. And I named her for my lost little sister.”

“Lost sister?”

“Robb and I were triplets, but my sister did not survive.  Father never even got to meet her.  She lies in the tombs beside,” this is how Nicholas would reveal his family to Jon. “She lies entombed in the crypts beside Aunt Lyanna, the only two females buried amongst the old Kings of Winter and Lords.”

“Wolf for Direwolf. House Stark.” Jon spoke the words quietly.

“Do not reveal to the Targaryens.  We aren’t allowed near you.” Nicholas said low. “If Aerys got wind he would send an army to keep you and I apart.”

“How are we related?”

“My father is your uncle.”

“So, I am not the bastard of your lord father.” Jon seemed to find that more believable.”

“MY father’s only bastard is my sister, Sansa. And that is only because Aunt Catelyn conceived her after Robert and Lord Tully made my father marry Catelyn Tully and King Aerys annulled the marriage.  House Tully was Aerys enemy, it was only my father’s request that saved Aunt Catelyn’s head.  It took ten years for the king to finally agree to legitimise Sansa as a Stark, and only because my mother also requested it and as a loyal house he accepted it.”

“The realm is a mess.” Jon shook his head slowly.

“It sure is.”

“What do you know of Prince Aegon?”

“This one?” Nicholas nodded over his shoulder.

“The other one.”

“Dragonstone Aegon.  My brother Robb, travelled to Kings Landing last time Father went south to petition the king for your release.  He met him and did not like him.  All I know is Robb said he wanted to go back south and apply to be Princess Daenerys’ Champion so he could kick Aegon’s arse when he started with his crap.” Nicholas had found it strange that his brother had been so worked up that it lasted all the way back to Winterfell.

“Maybe your brother fell in love.”

“Oh, he did, but not with the princess.  With a southern girl from a southern family.”

“So, you were saying your Direwolf had a strange name.” This was all very intense, and Jon needed to learn more about this family and who he could possibly be.

“Winter. She is probably as white as Ghost, but her eyes are normal, not red.”

“Why did you not send her south and keep Ghost?”

“Think about Ghost.” Nicholas advised. “Do you think you could be so close to any other Direwolf as you are to him?”

“No.”

“We were each drawn, even Sansa to her Lady – stupid name, but Sansa wants to be a princess.”

“I hope, to meet these people you speak of.”

“Your grandfather will hopefully let you spend some time with us before you are taken beyond The Wall.”

“A Wildling leader with enough gold to patron a mercenary company. It does not sit right.”

“Jon, we cannot deal with this currently and best to pretend we cannot at all.  When it is time, I am sure it will be all revealed.  At least you know there is a pack chomping to meet you finally.”

“Yeah, so I suppose I am no longer of House Targaryen, soon I will be House Stark.” He spoke with uncertainty.

“We are no longer enemies.” Nicholas assured him. As he caught sight of his uncle approaching with a curious tilt to his brow, Nicholas excused himself. “Perhaps let us not tell Arthur Dayne what I have revealed.”

Nicholas passed Arthur and nodded acknowledgement to him.

“Nic.” Arthur said low. “What were you discussing?”

“The seasons.” Nicholas kept walking.

As Arthur got to Jon, he looked back at the retreating lad. “Why do I not believe him?” he then gave Jon all his attention. “Seasons?”

“Winter, how white it is. How Snow is part of winter and he is northern, and snow and winter are part of the north.” It wasn’t a lie.

“We will make those foothills tonight and then we must watch for the Dothraki hordes.”

They had no troubles with Dothraki or anyone else.  It seems the Golden Company and The Blades standards were enough to put possible bandits on the cautious side of deterred. Even with a wounded man on a sled and a girl, because those that knew Visenya, knew not to count her out of a fight.  Many would have simply walked away having seen her.  She was not terrifying, but she had a reputation for fighting dirty, most men wished to keep their personal jewels on themselves.

They smelt Astapor before they entered it, it smelt like a place where dignity went to die and the long caravans of chained and crated people that wound towards its slave pens and markets were not given any dignity at all.

Jon had been lucky to never have been through here, but he knew he hated it before he even saw it.  People should not live like this and others should not make gold from forcing them to.  This city was a blight on the world and probably the whole Bay; then the Bay was probably the blight on the world.  It was a red wound on the world.

Chapter Text

It was a city not to the liking of any of the Westerosi if they were honest.  Even if the plan were to simply purchase passage back to Meereen and find a physician for Durk, one could not walk into the Red City and not want to remove it from the face of the world.  The stock sales in Westeros treated their livestock better than some of the slavers treated the human stock in this disgusting city.

At some points as they walked the docks Daenerys was caused to hide from the degradation of humankind in Jon’s shoulder.  She could feel Jon grinding his teeth with his seething anger at the way these people were treated.  Some were chained to poles, presumably as an example to the other slaves for some wrongdoing.

“Jon, we have to help these people.” She remembered her mother’s words of how her life had seen so little true hardship and as she glanced out, she knew how correct her mother was.

“You are right.” Jon loosened the waterskin at his hip and handed it to her. “I will guard you.”  She took the skin without question and stepped onto the platform the slaves were chained onto and approached a young man who looked dehydrated. The corners of his mouth were caked with the dried white foam of his own saliva. From trying to moisten his mouth, and his mouth sat open. Daenerys saw his lips and tongue were shrivelled from lack of moisture.

As she approached him, the slave slowly turned his head to look at her and as he realised her purpose, he shook his head and gasped, but his tongue had no moisture to speak.  She could tell he wanted the water but was afraid for her.

“We will go really slow; we don’t want you just vomiting it all up.”  She trickled the smallest amount onto his tongue and in disappeared absorbed almost before it hit the organ.  She continued a few drops at a time. Jon had indeed taken a guard position his back to the girl and slave scanning for any that would react badly to the mercy she was showing.

Visenya looked back to see Jon and Daenerys had split off and rushed back when she saw what they were doing. She hissed at them. “What are you doing?’

“Showing mercy.” Jon replied.

“Great.” She threw her hands in the air. “Could you be a merciful king and queen some other time? A less dangerous time and place.”

“Atrocities do not happen at convenient times Visenya.” Jon rebuked her.

Geron and Arthur also turned back to join the teens when they noticed they had stopped.  Arthur took a closer guard position to his princess, making sure none would get within touching distance of her, his hand on the hilt of Dawn.

Geron went immediately to Jon’s side and flipped his cloak back over his shoulder so the gold sword and blue orb the symbols of his company were clearly seen on his chest.  Geron knew anyone with knowledge of his squad would be loath to challenge him for fear there were many more Blades hidden ready to strike at whoever threatened whom they were paid to protect.

“The Slave Masters have that man up there because he is an example.  He obviously is being punished to show others not to repeat his crime.” Visenya said quickly and as quietly as possible. “This is not the time or the place to be a hero.”

“Where evil prevails, is the only time and place to be a hero. It is how heroism works Visenya.” Jon spoke down into her face with emotion.

“He has a point.  The Code of Chivalry says we cannot ignore this.” Geron backed Jon up.

“Code of Chivalry?” Visenya scoffed. “We are in Astapor.  There is no code of chivalry here.”

“The Code exists anywhere a true knight stands. Here I stand and so does the Code.” Geron growled with the power of a Lion.

“Please, you a true knight?” Visenya did not see she was walking on shaky ground. “You think because you wear mail and a sword you are a knight.  The knights you dream of are only in faery tales, not even Sir Arthur is a knight like you dream.”

Arthur’s brow raised at that comment about himself, but Jon answered the insult. “Lady Visenya, you are in no position and have no knowledge to make comments on what or who is a true knight.  Sir Arthur and Sir Geron are knights and whether you can see it or not, they deserve some reverence, because it is not easy to abide by the Knight’s Code all the time.  They must exhibit virtues most people don’t bother with anymore, and those that do not bother should not insult those that do, out of their own petty jealousy.”

Arthur stared at the boy who spoke to the mercenary girl like he knew exactly who his father had been and what his ancestry was.  A boy grown in the dark who shone in the sun like the prince the dankness could not dim. 

Visenya’s point though was about to be made as large bulky guards started to approach the scene to stop the act of mercy. They started to bark commands or reprimands in a language few understood every word of, at the group and Visenya rolled her eyes.

“We don’t want any trouble.” Jon announced, knowing they probably could not understand him.

“Then why did you start it by being a goodie-goodie?” Visenya snarked back at him.

Geron had to smile, if Jon had the treasury of his patron, which the king was likely to gift him, he could buy this city including the guards and shut down this fight. Oh, for a couple of months in the future. Now they would have to pay their way in blood instead of gold.

“Keligon!” The man was dark of hair and skin, he wore dark red silks and gold sashes and cords.  Walking beside him was a tiny person in pink and gold silks wrapped to hide her features.

“That is Valyrian, he said halt.” Daenerys translated for those who did not know.

“Skoros issi ao doing rusir issa buzdari (What are you doing with my slave)?”

“Ziry iksos thirsty, Ilon istan giving ziryla nykea mozugon (He is thirsty, we were giving him a drink).”

“Not you, the large stupid ones.” He replied in Westerosi to Daenerys. “It is quite obvious what you are doing.” He pointed at the guards who had yelled at their group. “Jioragon qridrughagon go nyke emagon ao gutted (Get away before I have you gutted).”

The guards moved away quickly, and the red robed man came up to examine the man tied to he pole. He tsked at the man. “I do not understand why you wanted this one Ashmara, he is sure to die. They have treated him pitifully.”

“Huy, he is exactly what I need.” A soft voice came from behind her silk wraps.

“Which is what?” The man ‘Huy’ acted like Daenerys and her guards were not even there.

“The closest one to Death.” She ascended the stairs and knelt beside Daenerys, placing her hand under the man’s chin.

“Ashmara, do not kneel in the dirt before a slave!”

“Hush. I kneel before an Initiate of the Old Gods he will be able to teach our children of their glory, for he came close to abiding with them. I am honoured to meet you.” She kissed the slave’s head. “Huy, we need to remove him from this pole.  We must get the other slaves to wash and clothe him.” She turned to the man. “Did you see Death?”

The small amount of water Daenerys had given the man allowed him to croak out an answer. “He stood before me, his hair was dark and waved. His eyes kind.”

“It is as all have described him, dark and kind.” The girl in pink said.

“Strange.” Jon said. “I have seen Death’s Angel and she is always silver and beautiful. Made of light.”

“There is a difference between Death and his Angel.” The pink swathed girl said as her companion threatened a man if he did not cut his ‘slave off that pole’.

“Is that Huy Nu’hel?” Visenya asked the little pink wrapped girl. “Known as the Red Sultan.”

“Is that Geron Gold, known as the Red Lion?” The girl asked in response.

“I don’t know.” Honestly Visenya had no true idea who Geron was.

“One would think you would know who you walk with. I would wish to know if I walked with the War Lion.”

“What?” Visenya laughed, what a pretentious alias.

“When War walked the world, a Lion walked beside him, the greatest of his allies, his War Lion, they say War sends his Lion to live and fight in all his wars. War is coming, a great war, so great the Old God will cloak himself in flesh again and walk as a mortal man again.”

“Right, you are a kook.” Visenya pointed at the pink silk girl.

“I believe. If you do not, then far has your blood flowed from the Dragons of Valyria. For they say it was not Dragon Blood the Valyrians bred amongst themselves to keep pure, but the blood of a God. The Doom came because they had lost the God’s power and only those that keep it escaped.”

“Way to go House Targaryen.” Visenya crowed in mock belief.

“Yes, but even they wane.” Ashmara sighed.  “Now they go mad, barely any have Draconic power.  Maybe, he needs return simply to invigorate the blood.”

“Hear that princess, you need to fuck a god.” Visenya said to Daenerys.

“That is enough.” Arthur appeared at Visenya’s arm.

“A Knight of Flame.” Ashmara said as she gazed at Arthur. “Is there a Dragon of Winter as well and Wolves who ride Lightning, and are birthed from the eggs of the Moon?”

Jon came forward and smiled down into the dark eyes of the girl. “A blessed true believer would know, though the moon touched many wolves with her silver light she only birthed one egg that cracked to produce a wolf that would ride the Lightning. Such a believer would also know he was never silver.”

“No. Black as the night, he held his mother every night, allowing nothing to steal her glory, nothing outshines the moon.” Ashmara said softly. “You are learned.”

“I had a lot of time to read.”

“Best we find a physician and a captain and return to Meereen.” Arthur did not like the exposure of this conversation of the talk of prophecy, Rhaegar spoke like this foreign girl and many died.

“Farewell learned boy.”

“Farewell true believer.” As they parted, they heard her companion query her about why she had been so interested in talking to the foreigners, but her response was lost to the noise of the slave markets.

Passage was not the easiest thing to find in Astapor as most of the vessels moored here were slavers galleys and although they were headed to Yunkai and Meereen they would not use precious space that was not a sellable item.  Hope was quickly dwindling, as was the chance of finding a good surgeon for Durk.  They could get him back to Meereen maybe if they could get passage quickly.

Daenerys sat fanning herself hating the heat and the smell of the city, the unwashed and the festering.  People had a worth here and apparently your worth included how much people were bothered to care for your illness as well.  There was no sewerage system, and the place was a infection waiting to happened. She was disgusted.

Arthur told her, she should not judge, when she asked why he pointed out she had never been to the lowest and poorest parts of Fleabottom, some places in King’s Landing were not too much better. She asked how could it be? Arthur said because the wealthy do not live in Fleabottom. She had never noticed, but then the Red Keep was high above the bottom where the fleas bred.

“Excuse me.” A cultured feminine voice about her own age broke into her musings. Daenerys looked up to see a very dark-skinned girl maybe a few years her junior with tightly curled hair and a vibrant scarf holding back the mass of the curls.  She wore slave garb, the plain dress, and a collar with a metal ring.

“May I help you?” Daenerys asked unsure why the slave girl was here.

“My name is Missandei and my mistress has heard you are looking for passage to Meereen. She has also heard you travel with sellswords.” The girl was very well spoken, and Daenerys was wondering why this girl was in Astapor then realised she was a princess and she was in Astapor.

“Yes, Missandei, I and my company which includes sellswords are looking for passage to Meereen.”

“My Mistress wishes to offer you passage to Meereen in return for the use of your Sellswords.”

“She wishes to meet us to discuss this?”

“No, she wishes me to organise this and return with the outcome.”

“She entrusted you with this?”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“I am sorry.  We haven’t seen too many people here be respectful of the slaves here.”

“My Mistress is not from here. She is escaping her homeland, far to the east where she was being sold to be a wife to an enemy house, she has fled and wishes to leave Essos.  She does not speak the languages here so purchased me as an interpreter.  She has gold to pay for your sellswords, she must get away as you are Westerosi, we figured your ultimate destination would be Westeros.”

“She bought you to talk for her.”

“She has spoken with me and she is a lovely woman, with a good heart.  When we go to Westeros, she says she must free me for in your lands, the Gods have decree slavery in a sin.”

“Not entirely true it is outlawed.”

“I know but she has strange beliefs, so outlawed or sin, I will be freed.”

“How did she get a ship?” It seemed convenient.

“She stole it as it was part of her dowry.”

“Well, Missandei I will speak with my fellows.” Daenerys got up and turned to go inside. The tent her fellows were within.  Missandei took five steps away and waited.

“Bit convenient.” Visenya said.

“For which enemy of ours?” Jon asked. “Who is trying to trick us onto the water and why?”

“Does it not seem convenient?” Visenya asked.

“It does.” Arthur agreed. “So, we should take it.”

“I meant trap.”

“Jon is right, who would be setting us a trap?” Arthur shot her down.

As they drew away from the Red City’s docks Jon became withdrawn.  It would not be long until they were in the docks of Meereen and Jon’s fate would be decided by others.  Geron and Arthur had kept Nicholas and himself separated and he guessed because he would learn too much. Everyone spoke as if great change would come to his fate, but it never had before, Jon did not believe in freedom.

“Alright, Jon. Spill it.” Geron said coming up to his friend as he stood at the rail watching the waves.

“Spill what exactly, Sir Geron?”

“What has gotten you all broody again?”

“I do not know to what you refer.” Jon wished this man did not know his moods as well as he seemed to, he also wanted to know how Geron seemed so in tune with him.  He would understand if it were Arthur, but Arthur just gazed and let him go, knowing Jon would not voice his malaise. Jon knew inherently that Geron would not let his depression slide.

“Except of course you do know to what I refer, you are just being difficult and brooding instead of telling me.  You know if you told me I might be able to help you with your troubles.”

“I already know you cannot.” Jon breathed out steadily to calm his mind and relieve the tightness in his chest.

“Do not be so sure. I am quite resourceful.” Geron said with his usual smile.

“Why?” Jon’s head shook in an unconscious sign of his bewilderment. “Why do you even wish to help me? I am absolutely no one to you.”

“Not no one.”

“Yes, no one. Because I am no one to anybody. Because I am no one.” Nicholas may have told him this was not true, but the Starks had not achieved anything to save him either, their desire had not saved him.

“Why do you think you are no one?”

“Because I have never truly been anybody.”

“You were the Champion of Meereen, that is somebody.” Geron wished he could tell Jon exactly who he was, why he was important and how many people scoured the world to find him.

“It is not enough.”

“For what?” Geron watched as Jon’s head turned without thought to look at what he believed he was not good enough for, Princess Daenerys. “Ahh.” Jon’s eyes snapped to Geron’s as if telling him to be silent and for his prince he was, and only nodded.

“Once we return to Meereen, it all reverts back to how it was.”

“Not true.  The queen has negotiated your release.” Geron said to give his prince hope.

“Queen Rhaella commanded my release before and I remained a no one in chains, forgive me if her negotiations and words mean little to my outlook on my future.” Jon looked at his hand. “I was told she declared I would never return to my cell to the king too; she promised it to me as I recovered and still, I saw its black walls again.  To be honest…” Jon leant closer to Geron and whispered barely audibly. “…I put little store in the queen’s words or promises in regard to me.”

“You need to trust someone.” Geron whispered back.

“I trust Arthur, Oswell and Lord Commander Hightower, and you.”

“I am honoured.” Geron said awed he had gained his prince’s trust so quickly.

“Other than King Aerys, you four are the only people I know that have never lied or deceived me.”

“The Princess?” Geron looked covertly at the girl.

“Understandably she deceived me to who she really was, but still, she hid who she was.”

“Surely you would not punish her due to that.” Geron hoped not, he knew the girl loved his prince and Jon deserved a girl as glorious as the princess to love him.

“No. She had good reason. The same good reason she will need to exhibit when we return to the real world where she must be a princess and I am a no one.” Jon left the deck, he found comfort in the dark from his long existence in it.

Aegon watched the slave boy walk below deck and felt something was terribly amiss with him, his concern multiplied when Arthur Dayne silently followed.  Sitting here laughing with his aunt and quasi-sister would not answer his questions, so he rose and excused himself to go talk to the golden lad.

“Tell me, it is true.” Aegon the Blue commanded the golden knight.

“You do not command me.” Geron said with amusement. “Daenerys could still order me to slit your throat.”

“More likely Visenya’s.” Aegon saw how Daenerys watched Visenya.  His near sister was not aware how dangerous the ground she walked on was, she saw a soft princess who was pampered and pandered to.  Visenya had not seen the princess who casually called for men’s deaths to return her slave boy and Daenerys was very possessive about Jon.  Aegon was not sure Visenya would not wake one morning full of little dagger holes. If Daenerys could get her hands on a dagger, he would need guard Visenya.

“Some girls don’t share.”

“Tell me Jon is not going back into slavery or imprisonment.”

“Why do you care?”

“He is a good person, I have doubts it is from how he has been treated.  I was secreted away for my safety; I also doubt it was his safety he was secreted away for. I found I am very fond of my aunt; it will destroy her if he was not free. I will not see her hurt. Even by my own family.”

“Visenya wishes to steal him from her, Griff would slay him. Your Martell uncles wish to do one or the other, either way hurting her.  Your imposter wants her hand and her maiden head. I don’t know any of your family wants well for her or him.”

“I want well for her and him.”

“Then pray you are true and Aerys accepts that.”

They had not met their saviour she stayed in her cabin. Missandei said her culture would not allow her to be seen by men outside her family, even though she was always heavily cloaked and cowled.  Daenerys asked if maybe she could speak to the lady and Missandei said she would ask.  The answer came as a no.  They could not even speak with her or know her name as it was hard to pronounce outside her own language and the shame, she felt for having runaway said she should not share it anyway. Visenya scoffed and Daenerys sympathised. Daenerys became close to Missandei on their short trip to Meereen as the ship was fast and glided through the water.

On the last night as, everything was being prepared for the next day when they would enter the harbour, Daenerys thought she ran into an old acquaintance.

“Lord Robb?” His hair was lighter from the sun, but she was sure it was the young Lord Stark, Heir to Winterfell. Jon looked at Nicholas, wondering how Daenerys knew his brother. Nicholas looked nervous, what was he to do, he was not supposed to be him. “What are you doing here? Have you been here the entire time?” she had so many questions for him.

“No, your Highness, this is not Robb. It is Nicholas, his twin.” Arthur answered to explain why someone she knew had not spoken to her.

“Nicholas.” She looked him up and down. “The resemblance is extraordinary, but then you are identical twins I suppose it would be.  Strange, I did not see you earlier. Why are you here?”

“Umm.” Nicholas did not know what to say. He was not supposed to reveal himself, and Daenerys could reveal everything.

“Sir Arthur?” She turned to the Kingsguard for an explanation.  Jon wondered why she would do that, why would Arthur have any insight into Nicholas Stark?

“Apparently, he ran away and joined a Mercenary band.”

“Oh dear, Lady Ashara must be worried.” Daenerys shook her head at Nicholas. “If you do not send your mother a letter when we get into Meereen I will have to order Sir Arthur to let his sister know you are alright, Robb has told me how she worries.” She continued to shake her head. “Boys.”

Jon just stared at Arthur and Nicholas. Arthur was Nicholas’ Uncle through his mother. Jon was Nicholas’ cousin through his father at Jon’s best guess. It meant Jon was… in no way by blood related to Arthur but his blood was related to Arthur’s, is that why the knight was so protective.

“Do not look at me like that.” Arthur said to Jon.

“Like what?” Jon asked. “Like you could have told me you had family.”

“No, we both know you took far more than that from that revelation.”

“Yes, and we both know it is going to take far longer to discuss it than we have left on this voyage.” Jon said low.

After they docked Geron went into the city to seek the queen and bring her to the harbour, apparently Master Wazir’s searchers were headed towards Astapor as of last night, so she was caused to come unescorted from his pyramid.

Chapter Text

Queen Rhaella of The Seven Kingdoms, wife and sister to King Aerys, the Mad, went out one day with her white kingsguard, Ser Barristan the Bold and the young pikeman who had been employed to guard her when she had expressed how distrustful she was of Master Wazir and his House’s abilities to keep her safe.  Princess Daenerys, her daughter was so frightened she would not even leave her room and had hidden within the room which held their clothes whenever a servant entered, she had not been seen since just after The Champion had been abducted from Wazir’s own pyramid.

Rumour said Queen Rhaella had offered a great fortune to the Master to purchase the Champion after the insult of the great games where the young man had been cast as the great queen’s deceased son, in his death battle.  The reason? Few knew that answer, there were many postured answers, some said so the Champion’s triumph would not be repeated to insult her hurt; some said to honour the slave who won the same insulting battle; others said the beautiful princess had seen their Champion and fallen in love.

Whatever the reason, it seemed to be true, for a ship had arrived two nights ago flying the Targaryen flags a red three-headed Dragon on a black field. That might not mean too much, but great heavy chests were moved off the ship by men in black uniforms under the watch of the pikeman and taken to the camp and guard of the famous mercenary band The Blades, for safe keeping. It looked to be a king’s ransom, or a Queen’s payment for a Champion.

Queen Rhaella did not go to the Targaryen vessel which had strangely dropped its standards, but to a luxury yacht that had arrived in the harbour at dawn. A foreign designed vessel of the far east of Essos.  Painted in light red, with red sails and darker red trim.

Geron had tied his sword to his back and borrowed his comrades pike, so it did not look suspicious that the knight who left a week or two ago had returned.  Upon seeing the black Targaryen ship, he sent the pikeman to seek one of its occupants, a lady.  Jon would want Durk healed immediately, and the lady was the quickest healer Geron knew, also in his opinion the loveliest.

Rhaella looked up at the yacht she was to board wondering how it had come into the service of the group. She gave Barristan an apprehensive look at she placed her foot on the gangway.  She would find the tale out soon enough, right now she simply wished to see her daughter and grandsons, make sure they were alright. The Lannister boy had been tight lipped about any news and said it was simply best to get to the yacht for answers, and less eavesdroppers.

Rhaella saw this vessel was expensive and it raised many questions; as she looked across she saw the black ship she was told her husband had sent with her payment. Aerys had not, Elia would not have received the letter about her son yet and Aerys the note asking for an exorbitant number of Dragons. She had been told it bore Targaryen flags, but not now, if it had at arrival. Where did this ship hail from?

“Sir Lannister?” She turned to the young lord.

“I have not been accepted yet.” Geron bowed his head though as he had known she was speaking to him and he could not be rude.

“What is that ship?” She nodded toward the mystery ship. “They tell me it arrived under Targaryen flags, but it is not one of ours and the large chests were moved to your camp for ‘safe keeping’.”

“My patron has sent gold to purchase his grandson’s freedom. Or more to help you purchase his freedom, should Aerys be too late.”

“How would he have known of the plan?”

“He didn’t.” Geron smiled. “The gold was to supplement any who would save his grandson from the slavery your husband sold Jon into.”

“He is aware of that part?” It did not matter, Jon was not this man’s grandson, he only had Aerys remaining, Jon’s best grandfather had died years ago, for no good reason.  Rhaella dreamed many nights of a miracle Dragon so she could have it incinerate her brother for that sin. Rickard. The queen became sullen with the thought of the friend she lost. Wished many times Aerys had died, and Rickard lived, her world and family would have been safe if Rickard were in the Seven Kingdom’s helping it to not sink into the cesspit it had become.

“Vaguely.” Geron shrugged. “As angry as it would make him, it also put Jon in the open, so he is forgiving for that.”

“Lord Lannister, Jon is not his grandson.”

“May I as a gold laden Lannister give you some advice?”

“Gold laden?” Barristan smiled; Jamie had referred to himself as such a few times in his youth when he first joined the guard.  When he was young and stupid, he had never gotten to grow out of it.

“As you said young man you haven’t been claimed yet.” Barristan reminded him the Lannister gold was not his.

“But everyone knows we have gold coming out of our castle walls. Quite literally. Anyway, your husband cannot get you the funds quickly – if he agrees at all -, my patron’s funds are here, pay him back, but do not risk Jon’s freedom for a perception of inappropriateness.”

“It is an outright lie.” Rhaella corrected him about what her issue was.

Geron sighed. “Your grace, I could debate that.  However, I want Jon free, do you?”

“Yes, I want what is best and safe for my grandson.”

“Really, because for sixteen years you did very little to save him or keep him safe.” Geron spoke plainly. This woman did little to nothing. She could have taken him out of darkness at any point in Geron’s opinion.

“Do not dare to question me.” Rhaella would not be reprimanded by this little more than a boy.

“I don’t care. My prince is alive, and safe now. He may however also question you on that point.  How safe did he feel with wildfire dripping off his fingers? Or being sliced sixteen times by a sword? Being hauled out for your husband’s amusements? When did you keep him safe?”

“I took him to my rooms and demanded Aerys free him.”

“Twice, in sixteen years of torture. Wow, you are just the most loving of grandmothers.” Geron saw Rhaella turn to Barristan but she found a contemplative look on his face.

“Barristan?”

“Your grace, we should have done more.” Barristan spoke sadly.

“Worry not Old Barristan, you were not knowledgeable; you are not accountable.” Geron said quickly as Daenerys walked onto the deck to smile with joy at the sight of her mother. The princess rushed forward to embrace her mother and cut off the tense discussion.

“I found him!” Daenerys beamed. “Jon is safe and below deck, we can take him home as soon as we make payment to Wazir.”

“Interesting vessel dear, how did you afford it?” They may have less money now and need the loan from Geron’s patron.

“I, or we made a deal.”

“A deal?” Rhaella worried what kind of a deal her inexperienced daughter had made and hoped Arthur had guided her well.

“The owner wishes to journey back to Westeros with us. Nothing more.”

“If they can afford this vessel, why do they need us?” Rhaella felt something was amiss.

“It is hard to tell exactly, she will not speak to us, even through her interpreter, she will not share a room with us.” Daenerys felt terrible for the woman who felt so low of herself she would not be seen.

“She will share a room with me, or she will not accompany us anywhere.” Rhaella spoke in the tones of a queen.

“I will get Missandei to inform her.” Daenerys turned to find the interpreter girl she was becoming fast friends with.

Arthur watched as Daenerys rushed past. “Mother is on deck.” She said excited.  Arthur saw her happiness was not shared. Jon respected the queen that was certain, but Arthur learned he did not trust her. 

He should not trust any of us. What have any of us done to protect him? Arthur had less need to feel guilt than others for Aerys had grinned down from his throne many times at Arthur’s grinding teeth. Arthur had been lucky to keep his head and he knew it was only because Aerys knew Arthur was his proof Rhaegar was Jon’s father, that he was trueborn, and Arthur knew where a great deal of Aerys’ skeletons were buried thanks to Rhaegar. Also, Aerys had become aware that of all the kingsguards that knew Jon, Arthur was the one, Jon would kill him for hurting.

Aerys could not touch Arthur he was too close to the one thing Aerys had been protecting in his weird way.  Arthur was immune to Aerys.  He may not be aware of that and had expected many times to be dead by the hours end, but Aerys had always ‘forgiven’ Arthur’s fervour. It was more Aerys knew Jon would not forgive, he knew because Rickard had told him: Arthur Dayne may just keep you alive if Jon settles on vengeance.

Still, Arthur felt he was the worst traitor because he could have told Jon more. As he watched Jon take a deep breath to go meet the queen, he decided time was up, Jon would know his story as best as Arthur could regale him. Tonight, after he was free.

Visenya watched shocked as the queen embraced Egg. She may have known he was the real Aegon, that one day he would return to his Targaryen family, but it was strange to see and a bit painful, she would lose him, even if she went with him, she was not one of them.  As Jon passed her followed by Arthur Dayne, she saw Jon felt the same way. Isolated.

“Jon.” The queen went to embrace her other grandson and found him not there as he stepped out of the way, dodging her like an opponent.

“Your grace. How lovely to see you.” His voice was dull and so were his features, the queen’s presence meant his freedom was at an end.  Kindly or not, she had been his goaler too. “I imagine we need to get me back to my Master’s pyramid.”

“Jon we are buying your freedom.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes, dear.”

“Buying?” Jon asked. “So, in the time we have been missing, you have not done anything more to see me free? Still, buying.” He sighed and walked away, off the yacht and up to a city guard, who jumped back in shock. He presented his wrists, for his manacles.

“Champion?!”

“They are buying me.” He nodded his head towards the Targaryen queen. “I will most likely have to fight again and die on the sands before they actually get anything done towards that. Can you take me to my Master, please?”

The guard called another as he had no manacles for the Champion, as he clicked them on, Jon sighed in resignation. He should have known the queen’s words would be hollow as they often were.  She seemed to love Jon in some strange way, but never enough to take true action to aid his plight.  Maybe it was a highborn lady thing to take pity on lost boys to make themselves feel like heroes. Then he trudged back into captivity.

“Wow.” Visenya said as she watched Jon surrender to the guards. She had expected him to be happy to hear his freedom was near, but she understood, he had believed it slightly before speaking with the queen; but having heard she had done no more negotiating to free him in the time he was in Visenya’s power, she worried for Egg.  This woman may not be as honest or merciful as her daughter. Now, Daenerys, Visenya believed she would spill blood across Essos to save Jon. This queen looked like she would not even get her tissue dirty.

Arthur just exhaled heavily. “Yes.”

“Tell me Sword of the Morning, is Egg safe returning to Westeros under her protection?”

“Yes.”

“Because he is the known heir.” Arthur gazed silently at Visenya. “Opposed to the hidden one, the one she let rot in a cellar?”

“It was a Black Cell, and she ensured he did not rot in it.”

“What else did she do for him? Because I saw that and am not your princess, so I see the perfume is hiding a stench.” Visenya challenged Arthur to explain what she had perceived.

“Clothes, books, his Direwolf.”

“You are telling me Aerys does not know there is a giant wolf in his keep?” Visenya doubted it. Aerys knew.  He probably simply turned his face away to humour his wife.

“It is as you imply, doubtful.  He looks away for the queen’s love of Jon.”

“That does not sound like the Mad King.  As with any tyrant, he turns away for his own love of Jon. Tyrants and Mad Men do not do things for others.  I know my father was one.  Anything he gave me or allowed me was for his own pleasure and gratification.”

“I thought Aegon said you loved your father, and he was good to you?” Arthur looked at the young woman.

“He was, because he loved me, and he didn’t want to feel crappy if I was sad. So, I was his princess. I got everything including his heart.  He could have just as easily hated me and treated me like a tool to be utilised.” Visenya shrugged, and Arthur saw she had gained some knowledge by hard knocks.

Daenerys returned with Missandei and was confounded to why Jon was missing. “You just let him give himself up?” She asked in a too wrathful of a tone for how one should speak to your beloved mother.

“What did you expect me to do darling, wrestle with the guard?”

“Have we organised payment to be made now he is in the city to be purchased?”

“We will start the negotiations again now he is back.” Rhaella smiled at her daughter, how passionate she was about freeing Jon.

“Start?!” Daenerys’ eyes widened.  “I went and got him, so I could take him home immediately, he was only supposed to walk in with us, and we hand over the last instalment with proof of his presence and walk right back out.  You have not paid anything? He has to wear chains again?” Daenerys looked disgusted by the news.  She was so emotional she just stalked away after throwing her hands in the air.

“See, that is ‘rescue the boy’ reaction.” Visenya said. “I would submit to her claim, but I will not submit to the queen’s.” Visenya walked away too, towards the gates, she had to secure a great lot of cash and favours quickly to undercut the queen.

“Vy!” Egg knew trouble was headed Jon’s way.  Visenya had acquiesced to Daenerys having Jon, due to her passion about it, but his grandmother had made Vy reassess. It would mean Vy would go back to wanting Jon for herself and her plans.

A lady in a heavy rick blue cloak hovered over Durk. Her eyes were a clear blue and her skin was white as marble; her hair was long and hung loose around her beautiful face like waves of that chocolate the rich people ate. She smiled and placed her hand over his abdomen. He winced in pain.

“Be at peace. I am here to help.” Her voice was soft and warm to his soul.

“You’re a healer.”

“A priest.”

“I am dying.”

“Not yet.” She smiled again. “Shall we perform a miracle?”

“That’d be nice.”

“Ayz-Zan-Ber-Ays-Tayl. I invoke the Elder Gods of the far and True north, heal this man. Death leave this man with us so he may serve you in your great plan.”

Jon watched as the room faded to become a limitless blue expanse. As he surveyed the expanse he saw he shared it with a woman in a cloak of a similar hue to the expanse. He recognised her beautiful face, she was Ellara.

“Ellara, what are you doing here?” She was supposed to be in Winterfell with Lady Ashara making sure Sansa did not betray Daenerys.

“I need that key.” She pointed at a little gold key hovering just above the floor. “I cannot reach it, can you? It will save a man’s life”

“Of course.” Jon reached down and picked up the key and placed it in her upturned palm. “May the man be safe and whole.”

“Thank you.” She bowed her head.

The room returned to Jon and he wondered to what had happened. Just another insane part of my life.

Durk groaned as he felt a pressure, like someone had their hand in his guts and then it was gone and so was the pain. The lady smiled.

“Thank you.” She bowed her head and dropped her upturned palms and upheld arms to show they now held a little gold key.

“What…How?” Durk stared at her. “Are you a witch?”

“A priest.” She gave him the key. “I said we would perform a miracle. I asked my God to retrieve the key and he did.”

“What God does that?”

“He has many names. Today he was Death for he left you to live. Tomorrow he may be War.”

“Well, you can thank him for me.”

“He needs no thanks. Enjoy the life you have been gifted.” With those parting words the lady turned and left for her own ship.

Jon was met at the front of House Wazir’s pyramid by First Daughter, he was not surprised it was her, just why she was standing outside waiting.

“First Daughter.”

“Champion!” She smiled wide and looked almost like she might hug him. She retracted at the last moment though. “Things have changed in your absence.”

“I wasn’t really gone that long. Has Master Wazir sold me?” He knew Rhaella had not finalised purchase, but Wazir did not keep all his eggs in one basket.

“No.” She exclaimed. “He will not be offering to sell any service from you either.”

“I heard the Westerosi queen was planning to purchase me.” First Daughter would not Targaryen lie about it.

“She and father argue. No, better.” The guards released Jon to the Wazir guards and when they reached the down steps to the cells and the guards and Jon turned First Daughter placed her arm before them. “He is not going down to the cells.”

“But First Daughter…”

“Do not question me slave.” She growled at the guard. “The Champion is being given new accommodations.”

“Why?” Jon asked suspiciously, she said no service would be sold of him. Why did a fighter need new rooms?

“I will explain once we are there. Follow.” She walked off and all three men followed because they were slaves and she was First Daughter, she made the rules, they followed the rule, or they stung.

She did not lead them far to an unimpressive looking door and she then dismissed the guards. When the guards hesitated, she got irate. “The Champion is much more refined of a slave than you and respectful, I will be safe. Go or I will have you flogged.” They left quickly.  First Daughter opened the doors and let Jon inside. 

The room wasn’t big, and it was not lavish, but then what did Jon really know of lavish or care for it even. There was a bed, a privy and a basin, a higher slave’s quarters.

“Why?” Jon looked around, this was the best place he had ever been blessed to sleep, other than the queen’s chambers during his recovery.  He did not understand, she was kind and loving almost, but she had days to make this process of freeing him happen and she had done nothing.  Did she only feel concern and care when he was present?

“Many important people have an interest you, Champion.” She smiled brightly. “Champion.”

“Yes, First Daughter.” Jon turned to face her.

“What is your name?”

“I thought slaves do not have or need names?”

She blushed. “I may have been wrong.”

“First Daughter wrong? Never.”

She huffed annoyed by his jest. “I may not be as smart as you Champion, but I am not as stupid as my father either. I was wrong to not allow you your name. What is it?”

“My name is Jon. Thank you for asking, First Daughter.”

“Well, Jon my name is Mirza.”

“Why are you telling me that?” Jon was very confused.

“I told you many important people have an interest in you.”

“Like this queen. The Gold Company.”

“No, they do not worry us.  Though the queen did speak of a man missing a grandson or son.” Jon gaffed at that.

“That man is not my grandfather.”

“Yes, well I did think as he changed from father to grandfather the story was a tale to frighten us. It is not whether you are this lost prince that makes you important. That moved us. The words and tale of another moved us.”

“The Knight from the Battle and his company the Blades. Their patron.”

“Who cares for those of a lower form? No, The Grace has voiced concern for your treatment, and I have taken it upon myself and convinced my father to let me be kinder to you.”

“Who is this grace?”

“The Grace. The most sacred of women, the most sacred of people.  There are those who says she is an Old God walking the world to see it right.”

“A-n-d you are one of these people?” Damn, a religious zealot.

“I am one who is not stupid enough to take the chance she is not.” Mirza stared at him. “She is knowledgeable beyond compare.”

“Good spy network.”

“Her touch can set your skin a flame or freeze it.”

“Chemical reactions.  Rub the right stuff on and Ned’s your uncle.”

“What does that mean?”

“It is not magic. She is not a maege.”

“No, she is an eternal being. People say she has existed since before the Doom of Valyria, that she was from Valyria.  Others say the attendants sent to her temple are rotated to be her, so she is a line of similar looking women.” Mirza did not believe that, she knew The Grace was deific.

“O-k-a-y. So, she likes me.”

“She spoke of your birthmark without having seen or heard it spoken of.”

“Or she did, and you didn’t know.”

“Jon. Stop that. You will stay here in this room and we will give you a different manacle that will speak of how special you are.”  The girl walked to the side of the room and brought back an oversized gauntlet, made of what looked like gold but was probably not. She unlocked Jon’s manacles and let them fall, then placed the gauntlet over his right hand and locked it in place with a key fashioned to look like a whip at the end.

He felt his wrist lock and found he could not move it. This thing was incapacitating. “Where is the other?” He groaned in the initial pain, which slowly subsided.

“There is no other. It immobilises you weapon hand and makes it impossible to do much with it. That is all.  The Grace gave it to us. Said ‘if you must’, it is an old artefact. When and if you are purchased by any group or person, the key will unlock it and your hand will be free to be used.”

“Right.” Jon sighed. “Do you really think Queen Rhaella will go through with this purchase? The novelty has probably worn off now.”

“It matters not.  Your circumstance has already changed and improved. Even if her promises are false, your life will be easier.  Father will not pull you out of The Pit but as it is your fights will be more sporadic. You have within reason freedom to wander our pyramid, no more locks on your door to keep you in, only to keep others out.” Mirza walked to the door removed the key then walked back to hand it to Jon.

“What a large cell I have.”

“You can leave the pyramid with an escort. We do not want you stolen again.” Mirza smiled then nodded to him. “I will give you space to grow accustomed.  I will tell the Queen’s company where you have been moved.”

“No.  Please do not.”

“If it is your wish, but surely there is someone…” First Daughter thought maybe the princess, if she ever left her room.

“If the dark haired kingsguard or the knight who aided me in the arena enquire, please inform them, but no one else.” He doubted Visenya would come or Nicholas; he had no faith a Targaryen would seek him. Daenerys… With how he was currently feeling about her mother, he should not see her. Anyway, Daenerys tended to find him, no matter how obscure his keeping. The Girl of Honey and Roses. He smiled.

“Alright.” First Daughter, Mirza left the room, she had to impress on the other slaves they were to treat Jon, The Champion differently.

Missandei explained her Mistress was very recluse, and Rhaella explained she was a queen and if Missandei’s Mistress wanted her to transport her to Westeros, she would need ask her that, in person. Rhaella would not share a ship with her if she would not share a room with Rhaella. After Jon’s departure and Daenerys’ upset, Rhaella said the woman could come see her at the pyramid of Wazir.

Daenerys sat beside her mother in the palanquin with her arms crossed and her gaze out through the curtains.

“Daenerys, darling, I had to stall negotiations so Wazir knew we would not be fooled.” Daenerys did not answer just kept her eyes on the outside world. The world Jon was still not free in.

Missandei led her Mistress into the Targaryen rooms. She feared this audience would go badly, this queen seemed far stricter than Daenerys and her Mistress was not confident enough to explain her situation. The situation was not made better by the tension in the air between the princess and the queen, it was obvious Daenerys was extremely angry with her mother.

“Hail and we thank you for your hospitality of giving us an audience this fine afternoon.” Missandei started the proceedings. “I am Missandei of Naath and this is my Mistress.”

Rhaella nodded and indicated they should sit down. “Welcome, to my apartments that Master Wazir has been so kindly allowed myself and my retinue.”

“We are honoured.” Missandei smiled and her mistress seemed to nod. Despite whatever was going on between the Westerosi women they both sat down and smiled at their guests.

“I understand you are looking for passage to Westeros.” Rhaella spoke directly to the shrouded woman.

“That we are.” Missandei answered. “If you can kindly provide it.”

“Why does she not speak for herself?” Rhaella looked at Missandei.

“She does not speak your language.”

“You are her interpreter.”

“I am.” Missandei nodded.

“Yet, you have not spoken to her and she has not spoken to you for you to interpret anything.”

“We have had long conversations previously that give me insight into her thoughts and wishes meaning unless the conversation goes in an unexpected direction or needs an answer I do not know, I do not need translate everything.”

“Yet, I do not know that these are her answers.”

“Believe me, people tend to ask all the same boring, unimaginative questions.  We should be fine and if it wasn’t her answer, she will tap my arm.” Missandei spoke in a cold tone.  Daenerys smiled at Missandei telling her mother she was unimaginative. The woman nodded to agree with her translator.

The queen was not impressed with the answer, but she had asked the question. “What is her name?”

“It is unpronounceable in your language and she not longer has it due to the shame of absconding from her wedding so cannot use it anyway so it is unimportant. Short answer, currently she is without a name.”

“What are we to call her?”

Missandei looked sadly at her Mistress. “Nothing.  Can talk to me and I will speak to her, as you will be referring to my mistress it will cover her having or not having a name.”

“That is not fair.” Daenerys spoke low and sympathetically. The Mistress touched Missandei’s arm and spoke quietly into her ear.

“Mistress says, a king of Westeros said: Life is not Fair. It is her lot, she accepts it.”

“How did this come to be her lot?” Rhaella wanted to know as much as possible. “She fled, what and why and how will this affect us?”

“Basically, she was arranged to wed a wealthy but cruel man. She did not wish to, she fled her wedding morning, the yacht is part of her bride price, as her family too is wealthy.  You will suffer nothing if you are caught with her, she will suffer much.  She had money to set herself up in Westeros, her yacht simply cannot make it across the Narrow Sea without the shelter of a greater ship. We will not even need stay on your vessel, just shelter by it.”

“That is not how it works at sea exactly young ladies.” Rhaella did not know much but she was sure that would not be the way of it.

“We need to get away from Essos.”

“What about you?” Rhaella looked at Missandei. “You are a slave. What do you expect to happen it Westeros?”

“My Mistress assures me she will release me and take me on as a servant in Westeros. I will be free.”

“Don’t you wish to return to Naath?”

“Yes, but I was taken very young, it is a desire to go where I am told I belong, but I do not remember belonging there. It is not urgent.”

“How doesn’t you mistress plan to gain money in Westeros, her money will not last forever.” Rhaella wondered how much of this plan was thought out.

“Unknown at this point. She has to live to get there first.”

“What about the coverings?”

“They are traditional to her culture, she wears them until her wedding night and in her shame she cannot remove them.”

“They must be terribly hot.” Daenerys leaned forward to get a nod. “Also, exhaustingly heavy.” Another nod.

“What else did you need to know?” Missandei asked of the queen.

“We need to know the depths of this shame she is feeling, and we will need to break it.” Rhaella said to Missandei, before turning to the woman. “The world will beat you down enough, you do not need help it to do that.  You saw a terrible situation, you took charge and left.  There is no shame in a retreat, you did not show cowardice but intelligence. I will only allow you to accompany me on my return to Westeros if you agree to shed some of this shame. You will not hide.”

There was a long discussion to follow about how the Mistress came to flee her family obligations and how things would be if she was to return to Westeros with the Queen.  Rhaella would not allow all these young people to slip through the cracks of the world.  She had come here to right a wrong and save her grandson, seems she would be saving many more.

Geron arrived at the door to the Targaryen guest rooms early but as he expected Arthur was already ready to depart when he arrived. So the young knight bowed to the princess and stepped forward to kiss her hand, so he could speak quietly to her.

“I’ll check up on him for you.” He saw her smile of gratitude as his head rose. “Your highness.” Then he turned to fall in line behind Arthur as he headed out of the rooms and off to where they had been told they could find Jon. 

When they were out of the hearing distance of the Targaryens Geron started to speak. “Do you not find it curious Jon did not want the Queen to know where he was?”

“No.” Arthur’s tone held some gravel to it.

“Do you agree with him and the obviously angry princess?”

Arthur stopped and turned to gaze coldly at Geron. “I do.”

“Not a good position for a kingsguard.”

“I haven’t been in a good position for a kingsguard in regard to my opinion of most of the royals of House Targaryen in many years.” Arthur admitted with no shame. “I remain for Jon.”

“What of Elia and her children. House Dayne, Sworn to Martell.”

“I am sworn to Rhaegar and Jon.”

“Me too. Well, Jon, I wasn’t alive to swear to Rhaegar.” The brightness faded then. “How did you endure it?”

“With great difficulty. However, if I gave in to my rage, Jon would have been totally alone. So I held it in.” Arthur turned to start back to his task.

“So, why are we off to see the prince?”

“To tell him he is a prince.”

That shocked Geron so much he stopped walking. “Seriously?”

“Yes, it is time he knew who he was and that he has always been very important. He has lived in darkness too long.”

“It will be a big shock.”

“I simply intend to explain who his parents were, and he as an intelligent boy will take it from there.”

“It will make him ask questions.”

“I will answer them.”

“Some may not like it.”

“I no longer care.” Arthur took a deep breath. “House Stark has petitioned to see him, and he thinks he is unwanted, I do not care if it makes things sticky for the queen or me. Jon deserves to know he is loved and wanted and that he is someone.  He pretty much has seen the connection with Nicholas, I will give him something steel in his life instead of all this gossamer.”

“So, why am I going? Do you want me to tell him about my patron?”

“No.” Arthur said firmly. “You say you are his truest friend; he may need one for support, I am about to dump a great deal of heavy information on him.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.” They did not speak for the remainder of their short walk to Jon’s new accommodations.

Rhaella gazed sadly at Daenerys as her daughter stood on the balcony gazing at the horizon instead of glaring wrathfully at her mother or weeping in Barristan’s arms having fallen back into his comforting presence. It was not like she did not understand Daenerys’ desire to see Jon free, no Direwolf should be caged. She understood better than her daughter would ever know; to feel the loss of one’s loyal Direwolf boy, worrying you will never see him again and worse he may hurt before you meet again.

Again, Lord Rickard Stark came to her mind, Bonifer’s staunch friend and Rhaella’s greatest comfort, Bonifer would prance and play up to the knightly figure; ready to jump on his horse and joust at the least encouragement. He had Rhaella’s cousin Princess Valyri in giggling fits far too often. Rickard would just smile, shake his head and shrug at his friend’s antics; then invite Rhaella to sit next to him so they could sit quietly and laugh – quietly – at Bonifer. Rickard did not need flowery words or bold gestures, and he did not use then either, to bring solace to those around him. He had always been the quiet, strong, stead Lord of The North, his presence made you feel safe.

“Rickard makes me wish infini (infinite) greatsy Aegon had not, because it was wrong to make the North bend. Doesn’t he just feel like a King of Winter? All regal and honourable, a guiding soul. Don’t tell grandfather Egg but Rickard is more kingly than recent Targaryens.” Valyri whispered in her cousin’s ear. “Dark and Handsome too.”

Valyri. Rhaella missed her cousin. Many dismissed the princess as a kooky younger version of her mother, Jenny of Oldstones; overindulged by her father, Crown Prince Duncan, the Prince of Dragonflies. Rhaella had never found her cousin to be as air-headed as others. Joanna Lannister would smile and call Valyri ‘special’; she was not being cruel like Tywin when he said it. Joanna had said it with love. Everyone loved Valyri, so they should she was a bright spark, their small circle had called Valyri the Princess of Fireflies, after Bonifer gifted her the title one day she was especially optimistic.

Rhaella knew it had not always been so, once Valyri had been a depressed smouldering inferno and spitfire. She did not like all the jests people made of her parents or how people insulted her mother as being a witch. Once, Valyri was a Dragoness ready to burn everyone to the ground. Not many felt safe around the volatile girl. Duncan, Rhaella’s uncle had worried and convinced sister, Sheara to take his insular, angry daughter under her wing and get her social time with her cousins.

Valyri was not easy but Aerys had always been fascinated by Valyri and asked his mother to please agree. Rhaella had wondered if Aerys had seen Valyri as an escape from their father’s plans that they should be wed. Many times, as children he had told Rhaella either she or Valyri would be his wife one day.

Valyri had brightened when Bonifer, then Rickard had come on the scene. Though Rhaella recalled her suspicious look at Bonifer: “Hedge knight, so not a real one.” Yet, he was the one who got away with calling her a ‘firefly’. Even when they were at loggerheads, Bonifer could defuse her cousin to reduce her to a crumpled giggling lump with just his words.

Rhaella missed Valyri. She felt she lost everyone at once in her life. Her father made her and Aerys marry causing both Bonifer and Rickard to disappear. Within months, maybe only weeks, Valyri disappeared running off to wed some northern boy, thankfully not Rickard. News came saying Rickard Stark had married Lady Lyarra; by then she had conceived Rhaegar and had to hope he could heal all her heartache. No, but her little prince soothed it.

Then, Valyri was bac to visit her parent’s also with child. She had found a long-lost distant cousin in the far north, ‘beyond anywhere we ever knew existed’. She was happy, so happy with her northern king. Rhaella had hope of a brighter future, Valyri almost glowed about her son-to-be, how her little Valian and Rhaella’s little Rhaegar would be so close. ‘Hope we can tell them apart.’ Valyri had chuckled. Aery s teased her mercilessly about her joy, it was almost like her brother wasn’t slipping away slowly, because he already was even back then, so imperceptibly only she had seen its beginnings.

Then Summerhall happened and again Rhaella lost too many she loved, almost lost her little Rhaegar, had been convinced she had, something felt wrong. Even Aerys had reacted strangely and their father had sent her brother away with Tywin with a nod. She pleaded her father explain why Aerys had looked sickened and given her such a devastated apologetic expression.

“Your brother is not strong.” Jaeherys said. He was wrong, Aerys was strong, he was not weak he was horrified. Why was her father lying to her? Why was her brother horrified?

They did not let her hold her son then and she had no energy to fight them, and Tywin had taken Aerys away so she could not get him to fight in her stead.  Her father brought Rhaegar to her the next day – she thought it was the next day – he was so tiny compared to how large he felt when she had birthed him.  He looked like he had not been ready to be born, he was not that far from the day he was supposed to be born but he did look too little to be born.  As little as he was he was perfect, but disturbingly Aerys looked confused and suspicious when she showed him their son. She also noticed a cut at his little temple, her father said the birth was chaotic perhaps a scratch from a rock, it looked too clean but what would she know? In her loss and grief she swore he resembled others lost to her.

Aerys had told her Valyri had not survived, nor had they been able to find her quick enough to save her baby son.  He was further from birth than Rhaegar, if they had found him quickly perhaps Valian could have survived but they did not, but Tywin who was there apparently said they tried and he had been tiny and perfect, with silver hair and amber eyes, like Valyri. Rhaella could not imagine the pain Valyri’s husband would feel.

Rhaella realised she had never heard how he had taken the news of Valyri and his unborn son’s deaths. The queen’s eyes widened as it occurred to her if Geron worked for a patron who looked for a possible lost descendant. It could be Valyri’s husband, seeking some replacement for little Valian. Was Valyri’s husband seeking resolution to a long held heartache? Would they need reignite his pain and loss by explaining Jon was not his hoped for relative?

Unfortunately for Rhaella, Summerhall was not the end of the events of mass loss of those she loved. Between Rhaegar and Daenerys, pregnancies provided only three children raised to teen hood, so many lost children.

The great loss of Aerys, her husband and brother when Rhaegar was sixteen and The Lord of Duskendale decided to commit treason and abduct and imprison his king.  Rhaella did not know what tortures the lord did to her brother, but he took that small insane part of Aerys and made it greater than The Wall. She was sure The Lord of The Dunn Fort was behind some of Jon’s tortures at Aerys’ hands.  Barely any of Her Aerys returned from that place, and Tywin Lannister had planted a seed of hate in her brother for their son, she still wished to burn him for.

The next great loss came when the kingdom went more insane than Aerys. Her dutiful, compromising son fell in love with a girl not his arranged wife but the betrothed of his cousin Robert Baratheon. Rhaegar told her he was resigned to being a tragic star-crossed love story. Then a raven arrived bearing the sigil of House Stark and the childish scrawl of Rickard’s youngest son.

Her calm son burst into flame at what the boy had written and flew north to Winterfell with his loyalist kingsguards. Next thing anyone knew Brandon Stark was screaming ‘abduction’. Then in The Vale, Robert, and Eddard Stark, with the bad guidance of Lord Jon Arryn, started screaming the same. Brandon Stark called what he could of his bannermen’s sons and rode south screaming for justice from Aerys. Idiot.

Aerys did not listen, he let them in and arrested the lot of them.  Then demanded their fathers come get them.  BY the look on Rickard’s face as he entered the Red Keep he guessed terrible things lay ahead. Aerys did not immediately execute her friend.  Once he did, the world was in freefall and the deaths of most of her world started. Everyone who meant anything to Rhaella at the start of the war was dead by the end of it starting with Rickard and ending with Rhaegar. If not for the hope of Jon and the child within her she may have joined them.

Only two miracles happened in that time of torment: Daenerys and Jon – Rhaella’s little Aemon. She was well aware Aerys thought his name was Aegon, but his soul was that of an Aemon, like Aemon the Dragonknight and her great Uncle the Maester.  With Elia’s son named Aegon, Rhaella doubted Lyanna would have named Jon Aegon and thought perhaps as Rhaegar had such reverence for their great uncle she would name him after the kind old man.

Her Aemon, Jon, was a quiet but happy baby even when his world melted into sludge. She had stolen his wetnurse and him from the Black Cell Aerys put him in many times when he was an infant. Laying him on her swollen womb, telling him tales of his father, for she barely knew Lyanna. Telling him about Rickard. The babe made her life worth continuing, then Aerys sent her to Dragonstone to birth Daenerys and her time with her grandson ended.

Daenerys was a tiny baby but Rhaella was beyond the age to safely birth children, so many broken pregnancies had cost her too much. She almost died, her recovery was slow and difficult. She was determined to recover though, she had children to protect and she had made a promise Eddard Stark, when he asked Aerys to take Jon to Winterfell. Jon barely left his cell after her return as he could not be around Daenerys once she was old enough to recall memories and should her grandchildren or Viserys see him.  Once Daenerys could see properly, Jon never left his cell, as Daenerys was her mother’s almost constant companion. Rhaella barely had a moment free to visit the little boy, she barely had the heart to watch a little boy who was a tiny version of his grandfather, he had Rickard’s kind grey eyes. Over the years she had gotten some opportunity to watch the little boy as he grew to be her Rhaegar in all but colour.

Strangely. Even in that mark on his shoulder. She had noticed it on Rhaegar early, at first she thought he was deformed, when she was certain she found a scale on his shoulder, cursed for his dragon blood being too pure. She had made sure neither her father or brother saw his little white scale, then as she had touched it one day it fell away to show his strange little mark.

Wazir and First Daughter spoke of Jon’s mark, but she had not seen it since he was a babe, his too looked to be a scale at first, but his was a gold touched black. She had not seen Rhaegar beyond his small years. Had time brought definition? Why would either resemble a Dragon and a sword?

“Your grace, it is time to depart.” Barristan interrupted the queen’s thoughts.

“Daenerys, darling, we will get this sorted out and tomorrow we will see Jon free.”

Daenerys turned to glare at her mother. “It was supposed to already be sorted out and he was already supposed to be free.  We should be on a ship preparing to leave on the tide.” Then she looked away quickly.

Rhaella left her still fuming daughter to Missandei and her Mistress’ care and company, they seemed to sooth her and the queen figured only arranging Jon’s freedom would see her on her daughter’s good side again. With Barristan at her shoulder she strode the halls like the queen she was.  She did not know how much she would need offer this man to have her grandson back, she wished she could just tell him after all this run around Jon should be free.

Rhaella swept into the room where Master Wazir was waiting for her. He looked relaxed.  She looked livid.

“Ah, lovely Queen, we are back to negotiating. I am happy to inform you The Champion has been returned safe to us.”

“I know, my men were the ones to return him.” She said coldly.

“City guards returned him to my pyramid.”

“My men returned him to the docks.”

“Still, they did not return him to me, his owner.” She stiffened at his adherence to the lie of her men not returning Jon to the city. “Not your men, doesn’t subtract from his price.”

“Shall we move on.” Rhaella said through clenched teeth. “We were almost at an agreed price.”

“Which unfortunately must rise, as I expended money to retrieve the slave.”

“But you just said the city guards returned him to you? I don’t believe you pay them, do you?”

“No.”

“Then, not your men, doesn’t add to his price.” Wazir stopped grinning as he was caught in his own trap.

“I have expended great amounts of money on that slave, and I will not be put out of pocket.”

“Master Wazir, I care nothing for you or your pocket. I am tired of paying for petty men and their egos.”

“This is not about my ego, Queen Rhaella.  The Champion is a valuable possession.  He brings me great wealth and prestige.” Wazir sneered this foreign queen did not understand their ways, and thought herself better than them.  He noted his daughter enter quietly and came to sit beside him, her expression neutral.

“Master Wazir, I lost my first son because of petty jealous and weak men. I watched two young men, barely old enough to be out from their parent’s homes enact that battle, listen while petty weak men roar above them for blood. I am tired of men’s weakness costing the lives of good young men.”

“War and conflict are inevitable.” First Daughter spoke quietly. “So long as men exist.”

“That does not make that travesty I was made watch acceptable.”

“No.” First Daughter agreed. He placed her hand on her father’s arm. “By the Grace, of The Old Gods, we are told, That was a Mockery of War and unacceptable and restitution must be made. What do you offer Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Rhaella was not sure why this child was speaking of Old Gods when the people of Meereen were followers of the Harpy of Ghis, but she would not refuse this chance. “I will give you a payment that you will not know the meaning or reason for. Sixteen thousand gold Dragons, a prince’s ransom and a Dragon egg. No more. I am done paying for the egos of small men.”

“No. That is a pittance, compared to his worth.”

“I am sure it is far less than the queen was prepared to pay. Initially.” First Daughter spoke to her father.

“You would need to at least double the gold.”

“I am not doubling anything.” The queen’s face was stone.

“He is worth far more than a prince’s ransom.” Wazir snarled, the Grace had reminded him how very valuable the lad was.

“Father.” First Daughter got his attention, then whispered quietly in his ear. “Complain all you want, he must leave Meereen, you must sell him.”

Wazir came back from his daughter’s counsel with a different look in his eye. “Twenty to make it a round figure and the bauble.”

“No.  I told you I had reason for the number you would not understand. It stays at sixteen.”

“I could make that in a year of his ownership.”

“Or lose it with a lucky strike. My son fought with honour for love and peace. That boy fights for his life with honour, so I will free him to find love and peace.”

“Your daughter was caught by my Champion, she fell in love with him when he walked the sands.” Wazir grinned, he knew it.  So many high ladies fell into lust with the fighting slaves.

Rhaella gave nothing. “My daughter has a good heart is all. She did not fall in love with a man on the sands of Meereen. My daughter has been in love with a boy from our very own Keep for months.”

“Your grace.” First Daughter bowed her head, the queen was right her father’s ego and pride could not cost her family.  The queen offered gold, that they would get naught of if The Grace decided they had failed in their duty and arbitrarily set the Champion free due to their lack of care. “You ask us to accept a low price for our Champion who brings us much profit, we understand your reasons for insult and refusal, give us time to swallow our pride and think on this offer.”

“I do not have forever. I wish to be out of this wretched city. It offends me as much as your father.”  Rhaella stood and swept out of the room like a storm.

“The insult!” Master Wazir huffed when the guest was gone.

“I will remind you of their information about his grandfather wishing to bring vengeance on those who own him.” Mirza may know it was all smoke on their part, but the mark on his shoulder said there may just be real fire out there waiting for those who held him.  By luck none had come yet, but he was getting more and more attention and The Grace had become vocal.  It was time to cut their losses and free themselves of the danger.

“We don’t believe that.”

“The Grace, the mark.  They may not have spoken truth but… someone will come, and they will bring doom on the ones that hold him.  He has brought us enough profit. Let him go, we were only to keep him a while, our time of caretaking is over.” Wazir gazed at his wise daughter.

“We will accept the offer.  Let the Gods, treat us kindly.”

“May the Gods treat us kindly.”

Chapter Text

Jon sat fiddling with this gauntlet for hours, he had no wish to go walking like he was free when he was not.  Eventually the door opened and Arthur and Geron entered.

“Welcome to the sparkly new cell I have been given.” He said as they entered with more light than he felt.

“I like it.” Geron nodded having a look around. “Even get a window.” Geron looked out the window. “Shit view though.”

Jon smiled. “I have gone up in the world.”

“Jon.” Arthur did not smile.

“Arthur.” Jon made his tone true and therefore serious.

“He wishes to speak to you about important things.” Geron warned. “I am here to give possible alternates.”

“Please don’t.” Arthur said to Geron. “You are here should Jon feel he needs the support of a friend.”

“As his truest friend I will serve.” Geron bowed his head. “My prince.”

“Geron, I thought we had decided no false titles.”

“You have no idea what he is about to say.” Geron pointed his thumb at Arthur as he sat into a chair.

“I shall start at the beginning.”

“Great place to start.” Geron nodded.

“Geron, are you helping?” Jon asked.

“No, he is not.” Arthur growled glaring at the golden knight. “Firstly, I knew your parents.” Jon nodded and swallowed nervously. “Your father was my best friend.”

Jon looked confused, everyone said Crown Prince Rhaegar was Arthur’s best friend, how could his father be Arthur’s best friend then? “O-kay.”

“He loved your mother more than anything.”

“I should be happy that they loved each other.” Jon saw the line.

“If you had seen it, you would never doubt your worth in this world. They were overjoyed when they discovered you had been conceived, they had so many plans how to make sure your life was joyous and glorious.”

“So, my parents are most definitely dead then.” There was no doubt after Arthur’s words, no hope he had a parent out there wishing to find him.

“They are. Your father died in the Battle of the Trident.”

“On which side?” He wanted to know if Daenerys should hate him.

“His.”

“His?”

“He was on your father’s side.”

“Is it just me or is that paradoxical?” he looked to Geron.

“Yeah, it sounds upside down. Let me help to clear the water.” Geron became serious so Jon would trust his words. “Jon, your father died on The Trident fighting the Usurper.”

“He was a Targaryen loyalist.” Jon felt relieved he and Dany were enemies.

“No.” Arthur said, to make Jon deflate a little. “He wasn’t a loyalist; he was the Targaryen there. Jon your father was Crown Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone.”

“What?” Jon felt like the floor had disappeared, even though he was still sitting on the bed.

“You are the last-born son of Prince Rhaegar.”

“Who was not really…” Geron was going to free Jon of the idea Daenerys was his aunt.

“Don’t start Lannister.  I know your alternate and it has no proof.  I am telling Jon the truth.” Arthur turned to the lad. “I have not watched over you for years because I serve Aerys, I serve Rhaegar and his last words to me were to protect you and your mother anyway I needed.  I protected you, by ensuring your grandfather in his insanity did not kill you.  I taught you every skill I could so if by some miracle we could devise a way to get you free and safe you could survive.  There were many days I was close to losing my head.”

“But you never did anything bad enough to lose it.” Jon was conflicted and angry.

“Because I had both Aerys trueborn grandsons in my influence.” Arthur had been lucky, no Rhaeagr had planned well, at least that part.

“But Crown Prince Aegon isn’t even the real one, is he?”

“The true Aegon was living in High Hermitage, under a Dayne name.  For Aegon the elder, Aerys spared Aegon the younger.”

“My name is Aegon too?” Jon was unwilling to accept that.

“I will not speak to the name that your mother gave you.  It is a secret for another time. Also, currently you have a name, but no sense of self. I am here to tell you where you came from.”

“Just assure me it isn’t Aegon.” Jon really did not wish to be part of that mess.

“All I can say is when Aerys declared his daughter Daenerys would be the bride of Prince Aegon, in his mad mind, you were part of the possibility. He could have been speaking of Darkstar, Crown Prince Aegon of Dragonstone, Aegon of Elia, or Blue as you are all calling him, or you.”

“Darkstar? As in Gerold Dayne?” Geron asked, his tone worried.

“Yes.” Arthur replied, not understanding Geron aversion to Darkstar.

“As in the fellow with the dark lock of black hair in his silver tresses?” Geron looked away and cursed under his breathe. Frellin’ Hells, I have to deal with him too. Jon and his broodiness was one thing, Darkstar and his total apathy for anything with a heartbeat was another.

“Yes, Geron that would be him.” Arthur eyes narrowed at the golden lad’s strange reaction.

“Oh, he is the real Aegon. Annoying impetuous little shit.”

“How do you know him?” Arthur would have doubted Geron had knowledge of Darkstar.

“Old association. Tell me does he still hate every living thing that ‘crawls’ on the earth?”

“He does.” Jon was not liking the sound of this brother of his.

“People included?”

“Oh, yes.” Arthur sighed. “He really hates people.”

Geron shook his head then smiled at Jon. “At least you know he will not steal Daenerys.”

“She isn’t mine to steal from.” Jon wished but he was a no one and she was a princess. He felt a tap on his shoulder, which wasn’t real. He turned his attention to it though.

See, I recall Arthur just said you were a prince. Jon felt like he could almost see this man with silver hair and a black lock. Also, you are the brother for true love, not me. She would kill me.

“How did you deal with that?” Geron turned to Arthur in exasperation.

“He didn’t have girls around to lament about. It was a true non-issue.” Arthur exhaled.

“Every time, I have to sit him down and slap the back of his head, yes, friend you deserve her. Why? Because you are the only man on this world that does. Also, she will most likely kill you if you don’t start acting out the love you have for her. She does not like these other men; they make her go berserk.” Geron started a tirade that made no sense to his audience.

“Are you alright, Sir Geron?” Jon asked.

“Just once, believe me.” Geron pleaded with his prince.

“Maybe we can discuss this after my story.” Jon said to Geron and looked at Arthur. “Go on.”

“Your mother.” Jon sat forward to hear of his mother. “She is the reason for Ghost.”

Remembering what Nicholas said, Jon found her name. “Lady Lyanna Stark.”

“Yes.” Arthur nodded as a great sadness overcame him. “She was a great woman. Rhaegar was blessed she loved him, and he knew it.” Arthur smiled. “The story is a lie, Rhaegar did not steal or rape her, he sought her in concern for her safety and when she asked if he could just take her away so Robert couldn’t hurt her, he could not deny her. If Rhaegar had tried to take your mother anywhere against her will, he would have a knife in his gut and Lyanna would have walked back to Winterfell.”

“Still, their loved started a war. Thousands died.” Jon was devastated. “Oh, it was all my fault.”

“Jon you weren’t even born.” Arthur reminded him. “A baby has no guilt in the stupidity of adults.  Aerys was mad, and his lords wanted him gone. Then the lords had an idiot with a lie to march behind, so they grabbed the opportunity when it arose. If it had not been Rhaegar and Lyanna, it would have been something else.”

“Still. It was Rhaegar and Lyanna.”

“The Seven Kingdoms is a powder keg ready to explode, it has been for a number of generations. If the lords were not so determined to throw off the Targaryen yoke, Rhaegar and Lyanna, could have been the saviour of the Seven Kingdoms. If Rhaegar had his way, they would have been. Problem was all the adults were throwing tantrums like children.”

“Thank you. For telling me about my parents.” Jon did appreciate the knowledge, for so long he had known nothing. He was still angry at all these people that knew and not one could have had an honest conversation with them. 

However, now was not the time to sprint forward in vengeance, now was the time to mourn the now necessary complete loss of the Girl of Honey and Roses from his life. He would need get this freedom thing everyone spoke of and leave Meereen for deeper into Essos, say goodbye to Daenerys forever. Wow, who know that thought would hurt so much.

“I haven’t finished. So, you met Nicholas and I am guessing put many things together to work out that he is your cousin through your mother’s brother. That Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell is that brother and your uncle; and First Ranger Benjen of the Night’s Watch is your other uncle.” Jon nodded.

Arthur exhaled. “From the princess’ words, you know I have a blood relation of some kind.” Again, Jon nodded. “Nicholas is my nephew through my sister Lady Ashara, the Lady of Winterfell. They have been desperate to have you returned to them, Ned nearly lost his head he had just saved by demanding Aerys return Lyanna’s son to him. Aerys told him, you were the insurance The North would not rebel again, your life sealed their loyalty. Nearly every year he tries to petition Aerys to get you back. Ashara says he spends hours apologising to your mother for not keeping you safe from Aerys. Even though he kept you safe from Robert as she asked.”

Jon took a deep breath this was all extremely confronting. “Jon, you needed to know you are the son of two people who loved each other and you, very much. Rhaegar was planning to leave the Seven Kingdoms and forfeit the Iron Throne, for Lyanna and you. I am sure the two of you were his last thought as Robert slayed him and he sank beneath the water. Your mother, she refused to take any action to save her life…” Arthur got choked up for a moment. “Any action to save her life that might endanger yours as she birthed you.  She said the world did not need a broken-hearted girl, but it did need a prince or king it could rally behind. Her last words to me, after placing you in my arms was, I give my son to this world, to be its hope.” Tears were pouring down Arthur’s cheeks as he remembered his friends and how pivotal Jon was to their existences.

Jon took a deep breath; he felt the moisture of tears on his own cheeks. “Thank you for giving me insight into my parents.”

“Any question Jon, do not take even a second to come ask them and I will tell you anything you wish.”

“See, my prince.” Geron said quietly.

“There are so many other associated questions about the king and Queen, all the Princes and Princesses, the tortures I endured at my own grandfather’s hands.”

“Yeah, I imagine that will be interesting.” Geron got up and sat next to Jon, then looked at Arthur.

“He would say he was making you strong. Sir Hightower tended not to let me near most of the tortures and I was locked in my barracks unless watching you after many of them, until I was no longer homicidal.”

“I am glad.” Jon said.

“Really?”

“Yes. Arthur after those days and those tortures you were my greatest comfort, I made many of your armours rusty. If I had lost you, I may have been happy to topple Aerys for Visenya’s plans, to reap revenge on every Targaryen. You held me, talked to me, and told me stories to distract me, or taught me medical aid.  You help keep me sane.  I thank you, because Sir Arthur Dayne, you did protect me, you protected my mind.”

“I was glad to serve.”

“Now, can I say my theory?” Geron’s voice brightened.

“No, Geron.  We will get through this and see our prince free before we start on another venture.” Arthur advised his younger knight. “Also, I need to get this part over for my princess.”

“Why?” Jon snapped to the suggestion Daenerys was not alright. “What is the princess suffering for, or about.”

“Jon, Princess Daenerys is inconsolable that you are not free.  She has not spoken to her mother since she discovered it was not settled and you had been put in chains again. Poor Barristan has not been able to leave her side most of the day, because she hasn’t stopped weeping, even now as Rhaella takes him to speak to Master Wazir, the girl Missandei and her Mistress must stay with her.”

“She is that upset?” Jon was genuinely concerned for his Girl of Honey and Roses. “What would help?”

“Maybe my prince, she needs to see your cell has improved as has your manacle.” Geron suggested. “We can go get her, so she is relieved.”

“I can’t play my harp, not that it helped because of this thing.” He shook the devise on his arm. “If I had a harp.”

“What happened to your harp? How did it get ruined?” Geron asked confused about that aspect of his abduction. Jon looked nervously and guiltily away.

“You did it, didn’t you?” Arthur knew Jon’s tells, the boy rarely showed his temper; though it was short it, was devastating.  Jon had an extraordinary lengthy fuse, one would think him a pacifist if you never got to see it, probably why he rarely and only when forced killed in the arena. As the false Baratheon found out as Jon seemed to sink into his father’s role, he could erupt into full Dragon unexpectedly and his fuse was not infinite.

“I know it was wrong, but I was so angry, it was better I broke the harp than a person. I had had a very emotional day.  I was not tempering my rage at myself well.”

“Must not be easy to fight the battle your father died in.” Geron nodded support.

“Except I did not know I was fighting my father’s death battle.” He should have done better for his father.

“The Queen did, and it is why it upset her.  To watch Rhaegar’s son fight the battle that killed him and that his son may very well die in that farce of a battle.  It was devastating to her.  If you had not won, I think our queen would have shattered right there.”

“Arthur, sometimes I get this queen you speak of and then…” Jon’s head just started to shake, and then there were times he saw no concern for his welfare. She was his grandmother, why did she let Aerys hurt him?

“Rhaella has been as tortured and scarred by Aerys as you have.  She endures much so her children and other grandchildren are safe…er, safer.  Viserys has taken the most.” Jon gave Arthur a look of ‘Viserys has suffered?’.

“Obviously, the Sword of The Morning meant after you.” Geron punched Jon’s arm lightly.

“You see many different faces and wonder if the queen is true. Rhaella spins the faces to combat Aerys, it is how she survives.  She has lost a great deal in her life. I may not be happy she stalled on this, but I understand. Rhaella’s life has been as devoid of hope and love like yours has. It is not good to be queen.  The situation could have shut down all the hope she had left, just because she stands tall, does not mean our queen is not hiding a crumpled woman.”

Jon gazed at Arthur taking in the words of the only person he had ever been allowed to cling to and realised the only person Aerys had allowed Jon to keep. If Arthur thought there was reason to show the queen some mercy, then Jon would, and Arthur was right the queen had attempted to be kind, even if she failed. “I will be mindful of her difficulties.” Jon assured Arthur.

“Now that is sorted, can I give my alternate?” Geron asked with a little bit of excitement.

“Would Arthur not know the truth?” Jon asked.

“I am not saying Sir Arthur lied, merely he was unaware of one fact that changed everything.”

“What fact?” Arthur asked angrily.

“What if Rhaeagr was not Rhaegar?”

“Of course, he was Rhaegar.” Arthur wondered to the lad’s mind.

“How couldn’t he be?”  Jon asked more open to the idea, after all he was just told he was a prince.

“What if,” Geron paused. “Rhaegar was stolen from another Targaryen family at birth and raised to be who you think he was, and he is not Aerys and Rhaella’s son at all but another man’s.”

“Wait.” Arthur raised his hand. “Your patron is a Targaryen?”

“Yes.” Geron did not see how that would suddenly make his words true.

“You never said your patron was a Targaryen.”

“I never said he wasn’t one either.”

“Does that make a difference?” Jon asked one of the stable people in his life. “I mean if you didn’t believe Geron before, why would knowing they came from the same House change anything? Other than remembering Summerhall killed them all.”

“Not the same House.” Geron clarified, his patron would not like to be placed in that House.

“Towards the end Rhaegar started speaking of other Targaryens, saying he felt he was being drawn to find them.”

“Saying maybe he did not belong amongst these Dragons and must find others he did belong with?” Geron asked. The Chancellor spoke of how the Crown Prince had been called home, how he was called to be with his own Dragons. He had died before he answered the call.

“Yes.” Arthur replied softly.

“My patron lost his wife at Summerhall, lost his unborn son, the day Rhaegar was born. They told him she burned in the fire.” Geron gazed at Jon, willing him to see that they lied.

“So?” What was Geron saying, because he was saying something. “Many Targaryens burned and died in the flames.”

Geron turned to Arthur. “Has Princess Daenerys ever burned?”

“What are you asking?” Arthur looked at the boy with suspicion. No, she never has; just as only Jon’s right arm to the elbow would burn when flames touched his skin. The Princess was completely immune though, she had fallen in a fireplace once and Rhaella’s screams brought every guard to her door and little Daenerys had walked out of her ‘grave’ to hug her mother and tell her, the fire ate her clothes, she would need a new dress. As if the flames could not harm her skin.

“Flame cannot harm a Dragon.” Geron said with meaning.  “I imagine Jon is quite similar in story, barely burns.”

Jon held out his right hand, a small burn scar on the palm. “I burn.”

“Does he?” Geron looked with purpose at Arthur again.

“Right hand to the elbow. He learnt to shelter it, so it does not burn when he sits in fire.”

“I do not sit in fire.” Jon was not insane.

“As a babe you did a lot.” Arthur gazed steadily at his charge. “When Aerys burnt your wetnurse you escaped your bindings and sat in the fire holding her as she burned, we could not approach until the flames subsided.”

“How am I not also dead?”

“Only your right arm up to your elbow burns and even then, it takes a long time to catch alight. Peculiarly it is the only part of your clothes that burn too. Daenerys’ clothes burn, yours never did.” Arthur gazed at Jon with a look of acceptance, the acceptance he gained many years ago when a magic boy was put in his keeping.

“Flames cannot harm a dragon.” Geron repeated. “Queen Valyri was a Dragoness, she did not burn in the fires of Summerhall.  King Aerion says she was a magical being, not only did she not burn she could make flames dance upon her skin and sometimes under it. Queen Valyri would glow with her flames like a firefly.”

A guard knocked on the door and opened it, seems as a slave his visiting hours were up.

“The reason for the right arm is it is the ice in your blood. An ice tooth and a flame claw. The High King sat with the beasts of his power at either side.” Geron said as he exited behind Arthur, Jon just nodded, not understanding anything. His knowledge, however, was far greater now than it previously had been.

“First Daughter.” A silken voice wrapped around the girl and embraced her in warmth.

Mirza spun, to face The Grace, bewildered how she was in their pyramid.  Again, this woman rarely left hers and never entered another’s. “How?”

“I am not.” She heard the smile but as with always the The Grace’s face was covered.

“What?”

“You asked how I was here in your pyramid. I am not in your pyramid; you are in mine.”

“Because all Meereen is yours?” First Daughter asked nervously.

A beautiful laugh erupted from the wrapped woman. “No, because I translocated you to my pyramid. Only the stone you stand on is in yours.”

“I don’t…”

“I thank you for your wise counsel of your father. Jon must leave Meereen. Your cousin Huy is on his way here with Ashmara.  The little pink Sultana seeks Death.  She cannot find Jon here.  He has purpose to fulfil in Westeros.”

“Huy? He does not follow any Gods. He doesn’t even care about them.”

“True, he does care very much for his little pink wife though.  Your cousin will confront Death soon and they need to make peace. But peace is not coming to Meereen, they cannot meet here, now.”

“What comes to Meereen?”

“Blades of Fire.”

“Is their tale correct?”

“A Dragon is taking flight, and it’s fire could scorch the earth.  It needs to come to power in a place of cold and ice. We do not wish another Doom of Valyria here do we.”

“I will advise my father to free his imperial majesty, so he may return to his stronghold.” Mirza bent her head and the Grace reached out a hand to touch her cheek.

“You are a good girl, Mirza Wazir, this service will be remembered, and The Harpy will not be burned.”

“Thank you.” The hand was gone and as was the grace.

Tell the Dragon Queen, the boy is hers

First Daughter brought the news and the Targaryen’s celebrated. Tomorrow they would have Jon and his freedom would finally be.  Daenerys hugged her mother if Jon was free all was forgiven.

Geron returned to his cot, glad this part would soon be over. He folded his arms behind his head, laying back to over to the ceiling, enjoying the dark and silence. She was silent but he knew she was there crossing the planks of the floor to kneel by his bed, reaching up under his pillow for one of his hands. Slipping her s into his.

“What are you doing her my lady?”

“Checking on our fearless commander, my knight.” Her voice was velvet, and her touch was too.

“You should not be here, visiting a soldier in the middle of the night.”

“I needed comfort.” He smiled; this woman did not need a man to do anything for her.

“Comfort? From what?”

“I have been looking around.”

“How did you find the mercenary?”

“Stubborn.”

“How did you save him?”

“I asked Aegon to give me the key.”

“We do not know his name is Aegon.”

“Oh, but it was. Aegon Jon Targaryen, Sixth of his name, of Houses Stark and Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms, also known as Jon Snow, Bastard of Winterfell, King in The North.  I cannot tell if he and Daenerys are wed in truth or what though, he holds those cards awfully close to his chest.”

“This Aegon made you need comfort?” Geron sat up on one elbow to look at what he could of her face in these shadows.

“No, he called me Ellara. But awfully close to him is another Aegon, one who I know is Wed to Daenerys, who already sits his Weirwood throne. That world made me need comfort.”

“Why Lady Evelyn?” Geron asked concerned for the girl.

“Could you not just be comforting without the knowledge of the Universe?”

Geron sat back. “You are a great lady of Winter, and I am a soldier.”

“You are the Lord Commander of the King of Dragons and Direwolves, Lord Lannister.”

“My father has not claimed me.”

“He is sure to.”

“Still a lady should not be visiting a soldier, whose father hasn’t claimed him yet.”

“Geron that other Aegon, well his Geron is broken, and I am not comforting him, so I must comfort you. So, while I do I get comfort that I am a stubborn girl, who can not see the wonderful knight before me.”

“Evelyn.”

“Do not be the hold out here, while I am there.” She commanded him.

“Evelyn, can we help Jon get home first?”

She huffed. “Alright, but I expect a wonderful proposal after your father claims you.”

“Deal.” He leaned forward to kiss her head. “Now, go before you ruin your reputation and no lord will wish you for a wife.”

“Like I care about lords and their wants, my father guards Direwolves.” She rose and left his cabin though.

“The minute he claims me, and I am a lord.” He called after her with a smile.

“I should be there when he does, so it can be the second he claims you.” She shut the door. Geron chuckled and lay back down. Jon was soon to be free, and they did not need Blades of Fire to make it happen. That was a relief.

Chapter Text

Aerys stared at the letter Rhaella had sent him and the many zeroes she had added to the back of the number she had written for how many gold dragons she wanted him to send her.

“Have you seen this?” He asked Rickard Stark who grinned at his shock. “I do not even know if she is jesting to ask for so many dragons.  I do not even know I can source that many quickly.” He could not lower his silver eyebrows from his hairline the number was so shocking.

As the king was not even glaring in his direction Lord Commander Hightower knew it was not him the king screeched at, so did not answer. He did grin behind his visor as he was sure the queen had sent the note just to get this reaction. He would have to enlighten her to how exceptional she had achieved her desire.

“Lord Commander, give us the room.” Aerys wanted words with Rickard and although Sir Hightower was sworn to keep his secrets, it was not his, he wished to discuss. “Empty the holes and let me know when it is done.”  He would not have children sell these words to Varys for sweets either.

Aerys waited patiently for the Lord Commander to appear at the door and nod, indicating the hidden spaces were empty. The Mad King turned to Rickard. “You know I asked you why you were so special.”

I recall. Rickard was never a great talker it is why Aerys liked him and kept him around.

“I know why you were.” Aerys spoke down into his chest. “I know she loved you.  I know I stole her from a possible happy ending with you.”

I see

“When I am very mad, I do not like to say it.  To remember.” Aerys admitted. “You grew to love your wife, though and she found a peace with it.” He even looked imploringly at the ghost.

I cannot speak to that; I am not really Rickard Stark.  If that is what you believe I would have to agree.

“You didn’t.” Aerys growled and glared at the apparition only he could see, the only person he regretted executing. He had no feelings on Rickard’s son Brandamn… it was probably Brandon, Aerys just always thought the word ‘Damn’ when he thought about Rickard’s stupid son.

Did not what?

“Agree. The day you died, I challenged you and you would not agree.  You said you loved Lyarra, she had given you joy to your life. You spoke of how you loved your family, your wife and children. You said, the past is done Aerys, I will not give you the pleasure you seek from what you think it was. I have always wanted you to tell me that you had loved her too, but you never answered, yes or no.”

What did I say?

“You know you were there.”

You do not speak to me to get my opinion.  You converse with me to have some truth in your crazy life. I am the result of Rickard Stark telling you to pull yourself together and be whatever the best part of you was, because if you killed him, you would be all you had left to tell you the bare truths and counsel your delusions away with honest words.  It is why when they handed you Jon, and you refused to touch him, your words were, he is Rickard.  Jon is not me, but his Stark features made you think I had returned to counsel you.  It is why you rattled on to the poor boy so much.

“He was you.  His temperament. Aerion is not calm, I have heard his screams of rage in my head.”

Your head. Not his reality.

“He is not at peace. My father stole his son. Rickard…”

Aerys

“He had Tywin slice her open like a beast.” Aerys eyes misted with tears and his lips turned down and trembled with the depths of his pain. “My own cousin. My father had Tywin slice her open and took her son. Valyri is gone because she was bright and happy and glowing as she carried Rhaegar, rubbing him lovingly all the time and singing to him. I told her she was insane as her mother singing to her own tummy.  She laughed at me and said if she was crazy, it was most likely Uncle Duncan’s blood not Aunt Jenny’s and she was happy to be crazy in love with Aerion; crazy happy to be about to birth her little Dragon.  Tywin left that beautiful soul to bleed out on the floor, just walked away with Rhaegar in his arms.  I will never forgive Tywin for killing my cousin and her ending her life in pain and terror. She deserved better.”

Aerys, you did not know. You also were no part of it. Initially you had no idea Rhaegar was not your son. You know this horror because when you were told of your son’s birth and death, you stormed to Tywin to ask details for the child.

“I believed my father when he said I had miss seen Rhaegar, that the horror of Summerhall had given me a nightmare vision of my perfect son. He was never misshapen, malformed, and monstrous. If I had not demanded to know why Valyri’s husband was so wrathful at her burning in that fire - an accident - I would never have known.”

Send Jon home give back what Jaeherys stole, Aerion just wants a part of that same girl back.

“Will he believe it with his dark hair, or think it a trick?”

The boy has the mark, Aerion will know, he is no fake.  He may forgive you eventually if he could see the pain this did cause you Aerys.

“I thought if I did not marry Rhaella, I would marry Valyri when I was young.”

Marrying your cousin, Aerion would have slain you for. Rickard said with a smile.

“It would have been cheaper. Have you seen this very big number Rhaella wrote on this very little piece of paper? I do not know if my kingdom has that many dragons.”

You have far more than that. It is not such a big number. You are being a miserly old man.

“She cannot be serious!” Aerys grumbled. “I am not happy, Rickard.” Aerys looked around the empty room. “I suppose I should get someone to gather this fortune to send it to her. What is she going to buy with that much gold?”

A prince.

“Jon is coming home.” Aerys smiled happily. “I won’t even torture him anymore when he gets here, because I am so happy.”

“Elia, how did you sleep?” It was their usual breakfast, and other than their protectors they were totally alone.

“Well, enough.” Elia hated these meals, he did it to torture her, currently though at least it gave her respite from her brother and his grumbling about who Rhaenys was going to marry.

“I thought you would be more excited.”

“About?” She nibbled on a slice of apple worried for what he might say.

“I don’t know, have you gotten any interesting correspondence lately?” Her eyes snapped to him in fear, this was why she had not rejoiced at the queen’s letter for long, Rhaella having found the real Aegon did not mean her son was safe.

“Stop torturing her.” Darkstar growled at his grandfather, which brought a shocked expression to his mother’s face.

“Aerys.” She said nervously, taking in the king’s wrathful expression.  She must stop this. “Please forgive Sir Gerold Dayne’s outburst he has taken his duty as my protector very seriously.” Aerys continued to glare at the man.

You wanted Rhaegar’s child. Even irreverent as Darkstar can be he is being the child you sought. Honourable and protecting his family. Rickard cautioned Aerys. Oh, my Old Gods, you are actually proud of him. Aerys was not shaking with anger as Elia feared but the difficulty of not smiling proudly at Darkstar and the anger was not for his defence of Elia but Darkstar inciting in him the pride so grand that he almost blew Darkstar’s cover as not-Aegon.

“He is loyal to a fault. To you. You cannot punish him for that.  You should …” Elia was terrified for the knight, Aerys was unhinged, he had grand plans for Jon and yet the number of times he had almost killed him were innumerable. “…reward him for so stringently adhering to your directions.  He has been nothing but what you asked of him, even down to protecting and defending Rhaenys and her wish to choose for herself.” All men were staring at her choked-out defence of the knight, she was verbally scrambling to save Gerold.

“Oh, stop!” Aerys exclaimed. “I know you got a letter about your son from my wife.”

“What?” She squeaked worried for her real Aegon.

“The real …” Aerys exhaled heavily. He looked at Darkstar. “How did she react?”

“Joy.” Darkstar smiled for his mother’s happiness that her little boy would be coming home.  Elia looked betrayed; had Darkstar been Aerys’ spy all this time, part of some torture of her. “You ruin that in anyway, I will … Well, we will just see how it adds to whatever you did to Jon that I do not know about.”

“I am the king! You will respect me.” Aerys growled and Elia felt confused. “I might just snap chains on this new Aegon as soon as the boat lands.” Aerys threaten and Elia shrank.

“Not my king. I was born of the blood of the north.” Elia shook her head; no, he wasn’t she knew his parents, the Daynes of High Hermitage.

“You aren’t in the north.” Aerys grinned.

“Take a message, will you?” Darkstar said to no one. “Winter King, I know where your son is buried, and where your grandsons are.  It is all Aerys fault, and I will explain why later.”

“You little shit, I could kill you.” Aerys maybe strangely proud but he did not like Darkstar’s constant irreverence.

“But you won’t because what if Aerion takes Jon? Who will you put your ugly arse crown on? None of the Aegons. You want your crown to go to someone with Targaryen blood that doesn’t need go all the way back to Daemon Blackfyre.” Gerold cocked his head sideways and grinned.

“Gerold.” Sir Hightower spoke low in warning.

“Oh, screw this shit and drown it in Dragonfire.” Gerold turned cold blue eyes on Aerys. “You touch either of Rhaegar’s sons, I will find a frellin’ Dragon and conqueror your little kingdoms like my ancestor.” Elia was even more confused as the conversation progressed; she was unaware Sir Gerold Dayne had any Targaryen ancestry.

“Excuse Darkstar, he is very volatile.” Sir Hightower sighed at the firstborn son of Rhaegar.

“Burn you.” Darkstar glared at Aerys. “To ash.”

“Really?” Aerys asked way too calmly.

“Except for one eyeball, so you can watch me do it.” Elia gasped in disgust at the idea, which caused Darkstar to brighten. “Which is number one reason you don’t want me having reason to seek vengeance on you.”

“I just have a question.” Elia turned quickly to her good-father, how was he so calm? “Why? You don’t know either of them?” She directed her question at her protector, was this because House Dayne was sworn to her House? No, that did not explain Jon.

“Hey, I and … what are we calling him?” Darkstar turned to Aerys and Lord Hightower, there were just too many frelling Aegons.

“Real Aegon, Second False Aegon, Elia’s True Aegon. Nah. Gerold?” Aerys started making up terms of reference, he turned to ask his Lord Commander.

“You used to say he was the Lost Egg when he was a babe, just after the Martells stole him to send him to Connington.” Sir Hightower gave some input to the name Aerys was trying to find.

“Fits, I believe Rhaella said that Blackfyre girl calls him Egg.”

“Weird.” Darkstar shook his head. “I and Egg, spent months growing a bond, we shared adjoining rooms.” Darkstar smiled, that was a neat way to say the same womb but had their own egg sacs. However, as Elia had no idea of how his Twin Egg was transported away, she could imagine he meant he spent time at High Hermitage.

“Alright. Point is.” Aerys looked at Elia. “How do you feel about that? Having your little silver headed baby home? You don’t count.” Aerys said but Elia did not know to whom, and as she was staring distraught about his knowledge, she did not see Darkstar shrug behind her.

“How long have you known?”

“Let me see…” Aerys trawled back through the kaleidoscope of his mind for the memory. “I think the day you did; it was obvious you knew he wasn’t yours and the reactions to your brothers after that said they had betrayed you terribly. Also, you do not look at your babe sleeping in his crib and cry, sobbing.” Aerys looked uncomfortable because the devastation Elia had portrayed over her loss was even enough to have touched him at the time, he had almost sent for Darkstar to comfort her in her grief. “You said: Oh, my little Aegon where are you?”

Tears filled Elia’s eyes and after a few minutes she spoke. “Please don’t hurt Aegon.”

“Which one?” Aerys wondered to the actual boy she was trying to protect. He watched Darkstar step closer to his mother and saw for all his act of apathy, Elia’s first Aegon loved her and wished he could give her solace.

“Either. All.”

“All?” What did this princess know, was she about to turn the tables on him?

“I know you consider, Jon to be really named Aegon.” The tears did not stop. “Lyanna loved her baby, she had such plans for how she was going to love and raise him. She wanted me to stay on Dragonstone with them so all Rhaegar’s children could grow up together.”

“Surely you wished to go to … wherever Jaime Lannister ended up.” Aerys knew Rhaegar promised Elia, Jaime. Another wave of shock crashed on the princess. “You know, I know about Rhaenys.” Elia nodded, she guessed with the ploy to wed her daughter to Tyrion and how Aerys had watched her squirm about it.

“When it all comes out what happens to Rhaenys?”

“Nothing.” Darkstar snarled. Elia turned to see a fire in the knight’s eyes as he glared at the king.

How does Sir Dayne, get to act like this with no punishment? Aerys may be mad, but he did not allow anyone to disrespect him.

“Not that your little fire spit changed anything, but yes, nothing.” Aerys voice went softer in tone.

“Nothing?” Elia was surprised.

“She may not be my granddaughter, but she is my granddaughter. I did not give her this reward to tie your family up in knots, or to somehow pull it from her at the last moment.  This is not another punishment, or torture device.” Aerys admitted the truth of this gift to Rhaenys it was to make his little granddaughter smile, like she had tried to do for him, for so many years.

“It isn’t?” Elia could not believe it of this man.

“No.” Aerys pouted. “I have always known she could not be Rhaegar’s.  Even while you carried her. I could have had her ‘removed’, but Rhaegar would not let me even voice it.  He knew how much you wanted to be a mother. Then he loved her like she was his and she was …”

“Was?” What had her daughter been?

“Firstly, might I say I did enjoy how much it cut Jaime up to watch his daughter call Rhaegar ‘father’ to have her so close and not be able to touch her. I say this because I remind you, I am insane and have been far too rational this morning. Rhaenys was, oh she was just a delight.  I imagine your father found you just as adorable as a child and she was so determined to love me, she grew on me. Popa.” Aerys sighed with joy, he loved that little girl. “Tywin also has been totally neglectful of his duties to her.” Aerys said with anger. Tywin had never gifted Rhaenys anything, miserly old bastard.

“He doesn’t know.” Elia reminded Aerys.

“It is no excuse.” Aerys brows furrowed. “He could have protected his granddaughter; he would have killed her in the sacking he planned for my city.”

“What sacking? Tywin came with his army to save us, and you wouldn’t let him in.”

“No, he planned to sack it and kill all of us.  He let Jamie take the punishment.  He is the reason your beloved Lion is dead, Elia.” He saw it was hard to hear, but he had some truths to tell this woman, because soon Aerion could be landing his Dragons on the Sept of Baelor, and all the lies would be burnt away. “I was more merciful to Jaime than you know.  He did not have to live with the knowledge that his father would have murdered his daughter.  Truth is, I half expected Aegon to come out gold, but then your brothers wouldn’t let Jaime near you, would they? Making sure you would not be happy.  House Martell is not who has kept you and your children safe all these years. I have. I kept all your children safe.”

“You took Jaime’s head.” Rage filled her words, Aerys did not get to paint himself some hero in her life. “He could have loved Rhaenys.  He would not have let them hurt her or me.”

“I could not take that chance.” Aerys spat in anger, he got he did strange things, but not all the evil should be placed at his feet.

“Your Highness, perhaps now it the time to rest, this has been upsetting.” Darkstar decided this was enough. “His grace can speak to you of what he has in mind regarding your children later.”

“Later today.” Aerys gave a nod to Darkstar. It had not been as he wanted.

“So, it will be.” Elia accepted the respite of getting to leave. Elia nodded and rose from her chair she allowed Darkstar to escort her out on his arm. And as they entered the door, she quietly thanked him to get a smile she could almost place on another’s face.

“You are a good lad.” Aerys threw over his shoulder to Darkstar. Then Rickard mentally punched him to force more out before they left. “Rhaegar would be proud Aegon; to see you care for your mother so kindly.” Why had Rickard done that? He had never taken control of Aerys and his words before.

Darkstar froze and Elia looked up in astonishment at Aerys words. By Darkstar’s reaction he had not expected Aerys to say that and was trying to grasp at a response.

“What?!” Elia took a step away for the knight but tightened her grip on his arm.

“Fu-uck.” Darkstar cursed and closed his eyes trying to centre himself.

“You had better bring her Highness back in, lad.  This will need to be done now.” Hightower said calmly.

“What did I just do?” Aerys asked hoping he had not done it.

“You fucked it all up.” Darkstar snapped back at his king. He however did as the Lord Commander said and guided his stunned mother back into the room.

“You had so many secrets locked up in there, your grace, you simply let one out.” Gerold reassured his king.

“Varys doesn’t have any little birds around, does he?”

“No. We always ensure they cannot eavesdrop on these meals.” Gerold reassured the secret was safely restricted to the room.

“What is going on?” Elia demanded.

“I think it was because she said all Aegons and as he is…” Aerys tried to work out why he slipped up.

“I am not an Aegon, my name is Gerold.” Darkstar grunted.

“You know, I am sure someone told you she named you Aegon.” Aerys pointed at Elia.

“I hate you.” Darkstar glared at Aerys.

“My lord, could you please explain this to me?” Elia asked Lord Commander Hightower.

The old knight nodded. “It will not be pleasant, and you will possibly hate your brothers by the end of it.”

“My brothers?”

“I will explain.” Elia nodded; Hightower would inform her of her delusion about the truth of her life. “From the start. Rhaegar knew Rhaenys was not his, he knew that could put you in danger and her too.  Then when Aerys started demanding a grandson, and threatening things if he did not get one, to force your hand to betray Rhaegar again to source said heir, we took an interest in your brothers and their plans.”

“They had no plans to do anything about this problem, they had nothing.” They had nearly washed their hands of her problem. Told her to be more attractive to Rhaegar, be a better woman.

“That is not true.  They sourced a Valyrian descended man with silver hair and purple eyes – from Myr - and some drugs so you would not recall, said man was not your husband.” Elia looked disbelieving and turned to look at the king, he was just absently nodding to the story. “Which you didn’t by the way.  Your Aegon, in Essos is not Rhaegar’s son.  He is yours, but not Rhaegar’s. We had truly short notice news of their scheme to place a child who would look like Rhaegar’s within you.”

“My brothers put a strange man in my bed and drugged me so I wouldn’t know?  That is why I only have vague memories of his conception.” Elia’s voice was breaking along with her heart.  She was aware her brothers had to utilise her as a tool in their plans sometimes, but this was beyond her imagining of how they would use her. “I let a man I did not know…”

“Actually no.” Sir Hightower said. “We got short notice news, so Rhaegar did share your bed once before they enacted their plan, so Aerys here could not say the child was definitely not his.  Then the man came, and he shared your bed, after Rhaegar left.”

“How do you say no?”

“At some point you realised he wasn’t the crown prince, and you began to resist.” Lord Commander Hightower answered.

“He raped me?”

“No and yes. He felt he had left his seed, and he was going to stop, but Oberyn threatened his life if he tried to leave the bed and the coupling.” The knight shook his head, not knowing how a brother could allow such.

Elia’s hand shot to her mouth. “My brother was in the room?” Sir Hightower said she would hate her brothers, she felt abandoned more than hate.

“So, to begin with you let him, then you didn’t but Oberyn’s task was to ensure you birthed a silver child. The man wanted to stop, but until Jaime burst in to stop the travesty his life was under threat to continue.”

“But…” Elia was without the ability to process this information.

“You barely recall his birth.”

“The pain was so intense, Pycelle over did the Milk of the Poppy.”

“You birthed…” Gerold raised his hand to indicate Darkstar, “…first, you held him and told him he looked like his father, naming him Aegon.”

“Which is true he does resemble Rhaegar.” Aerys looked the lad over.

“Aerys, against Rhaegar’s wishes took him and placed him in hiding in House Dayne. Then you birthed the Myrish man’s son, who you recall birthing as the Milk of the Poppy was wearing off. Nursed him as well and named him Aegon.”

“I let you keep him, because you needed a baby to love, and it hid him.” Aerys pointed at Darkstar. Elia just broke down and cried.

“Don’t cry, Mother.” Darkstar placed his hand on her shoulder.

“How long have you known?” She asked her unknown son.

“Always. King Aerys would not let me come back.” Elia for the first time noted how softly he was speaking to her, unlike his usual cold indifference.

“I almost did when your brothers stole and replaced your son. But I could not show my hand. Aegon had not been born to Lyanna yet.”

“So, my false son is a … as is my real son, all my children are bastards.”

“No, not me.”

“Yeah, I annulled your marriage to Rhaegar, so they are.”

“Even me?”

“No, Darkstar I left it to the next day so I could rewrite it, so you aren’t.” Aerys smiled lovingly at the knight.

“That is more disturbing.” Darkstar shivered. “Please do not smile like that at me.”

“Point is, none of it matters, you have three Aegons, your garden keeps multiplying.” Aerys crazily could not see how that was a downside.

“You do not help.” Elia furrowed her brows; did he think he was?

“Neither will this.  You have to pretend you don’t know any of this. I will save both your Aegons if you keep hush about this.”

“No.” Elia sat straight. She had to protect herself, she had just learnt even her brothers would not take care of her.  She was a Princess of Dorne, she would make a stand and keep the blade from the heads of her children and herself.

“No?” Aerys worried he must kill her, Darkstar might not like that. Aerys did not want to be an eyeball watching the rest of himself burning, because he knew Darkstar was not jesting.

“I would know about this man, and you will find out everything about the true parents of my false Aegon.”

“Why?” Aerys did not see any point to this knowledge

“Because I would have all this knowledge.”

“We know nothing. But I suppose I can get Varys onto it; he already has some idea about Crown Prince Falseness as he sourced the child for your brothers.”

“The Myrish man, was Daemon Blackfyre. Ironically, the younger brother of Aegon Blackfyre, Lady Visenya Blackfyre’s father, your Essosi son has been living with his cousin all these years. I have not determined if they are aware, in fact I don’t think they know.” Sir Hightower answered the princess.

“Really? You never told me.” Aerys eyed him with suspicion. “A Blackfyre.”

“Which means, he is of Targaryen descent.” Hightower gave the saving information quickly before Aerys decided to slay all the children.

“Oh, that is good.” Aerys liked that idea suddenly, as he did with most things, as a moment existed it held all his fervour.

“I would know all the details and then to buy my silence, you will legitimise all my children, in an insane decision.” Elia pulled out her political knife as it were.

“No.  I will not legitimise them all.” Aerys huffed and crossed his arms in defiance. “I will not have a Blackfyre sit my throne.”

Give it to Viserys. Rickard suggested.  You can say it is due to all the confusion you just do not wish to engage in the mirk. Rhaegar was not your son anyway.

I wanted Jon to have it. Aerys stomped his mental foot.

Jon will have Aerion’s.  If you wed Daenerys to him, your House will have a greater influence.

Aerys turned his eyes to stare at Darkstar. “No.” Darkstar stated firmly. “I do not do well on thrones.”

“You have never sat a throne.” Aerys rebuked him.

“As far as you know.”

“I know almost everything you have ever done.”

“Maybe I am insane. See I cannot sit the throne, you can’t follow one madman with another.” Darkstar was not going to sit that thing, its construction was a mistake. “You have two options, as I see it. May I advise?” Elia saw how her apparently eldest and true son was savvier than her false son who had been trained to sit the throne, if she needed any other evidence he was Rhaegar’s son, there it was.

“I will listen but change nothing.” Aerys had been too rational as he had already stated, he protected himself by not discounting his insanity.

“Legitimise Aegon of Essos. As my brother birthed of the same womb carried at the same time, you really have nothing but superstitious mumbo jumbo to say he isn’t.  So, what, he does not bear any of the marks, wasn’t totally a certainty he would. I mean simply that he could may cause the Winter King to accept him as another heir and you lose him.” Darkstar gave the king a knowing look.

Aerys looked shocked, it had never occurred to him Aerion could take Darkstar as well as Jon, now even this Aegon of Essos, leaving him with only the definite fake Aegon. “No-o.” He breathed.

“Yes.” Darkstar nodded once. “He lost a lot; he may take a lot. Second, you want a definite Targaryen, that no one else can claim. Pass over all the Aegons and choose Viserys.”

“No!” Elia said with horror, she had endured this man for decades to have her children inherit the throne. She was to be the Dornish Queen and when Rhaegar died, her son the Dornish King, Dorne had put her through too much for their dreams of the blood of Dorne sitting the Iron Throne.

“Oh, what is your issue with it?” Aerys asked. “Currently that means you Dornish still get the Dornish Queen as you niece is set to wed Viserys. Your Martell plans are still intact.”

Although that was true, Elia had endured Aerys not her niece, Arianne did not get to walk in free and clear after Elia put in the torturous years, not after what her brother did to her. “So, they get to put me in harm’s way, and then they still triumph?” Aerys was not expecting that from the broken Elia. “No.  It is only luck you did not decide another action with all this knowledge that would see my children and myself without heads.”

“That is true I could have gone in a completely fatal direction for you as a result.”

“No.” Elia stated. It wasn’t Arianne she was against, she liked her niece, all her brothers’ children, even Cersei Lannister and her Desert Lions were growing on her. Elia had found out how little her welfare meant to her brothers; how far they would go for their results, and she wanted petty revenge.

“Has this knowledge angered you so deeply, your highness?” Sir Hightower asked in sympathy.

“It has.”

Aerys actually wanted to help her, so he scoured his mind for a solution. “Shall we make a deal Princess Elia?”

“What deal?” She looked nervous to be tendering deals with a madman.

“I will do all you ask, ensure your Essosi son, is raised to Prince of Dragonstone; keep your False son alive, without sending him to The Watch; give your daughter any future she wants.”

“What about him?” She looked at Darkstar.

“He can look after himself, he needs no help from any of us.  If he doesn’t like something your sons do, he will just kill them, same with your brothers and nephews, maybe even a niece or two.”

“It is true.” Darkstar shrugged.

“I will legitimise them all as an insane act, I will find out all the information you ask.”

“What do I get?”

“Only what you already offered with your silence.” He gazed at her smiling in an unhinged fashion, she could not believe that was all. “Viserys will be king, with Darkstar as his Hand.” He smiled he had come up with that. Both Gerolds looked quizzical. “I am not sure I have not rubbed too much crazy on him, he needs a strong rudder, and Elia gets her son with power over the throne.” He looked for approval and got it as each nodded. “Except Arianne will not be queen. At the last moment I will rip the crown away by marrying Viserys to another.”

“Who?” Elia was curious.

“I do not know, maybe as I gave Rhaenys freedom I should give Viserys, my own son said freedom.”

“Except you can’t as then it would reveal your hand to the Martell princes.” His Lord Commander advised, this was why Aerys had no Hand of the King, he had Gerold and Rickard to do the job.

“He is right.  Though the idea of stealing their glorious ending appeals to me, I do not know how you would achieve it.” Elia had to concede this would not work.

“Wish I could ask your good-sister Cersei, I am sure she has some intelligent suggestions.”

“I am sure.” Elia nodded, Cersei was tired of the Dornish way, and had no fear of stating it. “Though perhaps I can enlist her quietly. As Jo'Hannah is too young, you would have no fear she would suggest that.”

“And she may look Lannister, but she is still Oberyn’s and Dornish.” Aerys reminded her. “When Rhaella returns I will gain her advice, as queen and Viserys’ mother she may have ideas.”

“I do not believe I am conspiring with the Mad king.” Elia said quietly as she looked into her hands, she then gazed at Darkstar for a long moment. “My life is a mess.”

“Welcome to Westeros, the whole Seven Kingdoms is a shit pile.” Darkstar looked down at his mother.

“Aegon…”

“Nope. I would prefer to leave that to little sibling.” The princess rose still unsteady. Her newfound son offered his arm, she had always so easily taken his aid before but this time she stared at his arm as if she did not know what it was. “If you would prefer old Gerold to escort you back…” Darkstar did not sound offended by her aversion to him now she knew he was her son, but his brow crinkled slightly with his hurt.

“If the Princess would prefer.” Gerold Hightower took a step forward.

“No.” Aerys commanded his Lord Commander. “She does not get to reject him now.  He is an insolent little arse, but he has always been the best of her Aegons on Westerosi soil. He did not tell you because he is the son that cared about your feelings.  You pout in private about your little boy over the seas, but this one has been devoid of his mother too.” Aerys found Darkstar annoying, but he knew he would have walked through fire for Elia or Rhaenys.

“I do not need your pity Aerys.” Darkstar snapped at his grandfather who he knew wasn’t, but as with Aerys most recent words, Darkstar had been stolen of all connection to his real relatives all his life.  His Dayne caretakers were kind and good, but they all knew he was a transplant, so they cared, but they did not love him.

“Well, I can’t love you. Sympathy is the best you can get.” Aerys snapped, hating how attached he had become to this Aegon that wasn’t Aegon and did not wish to be.

“Well, save it.  I don’t need you.” With that and a cracking within him from the princess’ avoidance of his arm he strode out in a rage. When he was outside the room and halfway down the hall he stopped. “I don’t need any of you. I will have Jon and we will be all we will need.”  There was a reason he dreamt Lyanna Stark was his real mother, she would not have rejected him.  Darkstar had tried loving Elia like his mother, and she had done what all mothers did, betray. “You need to come home brother, before I burn this world to ash so only, we remain.”

Darkstar just kept striding until he hit the Keep’s gates.  He looked back at the Red Keep and wished it had gone up in flames instead of Summerhall, wished it had never been built, that Aenys had died in his crib and the Targaryens died with the Conqueror.

“Darkstar?” He spun to the soft voice of Princess Rhaenys; she was walking toward him with Arianne Martell on her arm. “I thought you would be at breakfast with Mother.”

“Hello Darkstar.” Arianne cooed as she recalled passionate moments spent with the knight.

“Arianne.” He almost spat at her, the woman disgusted him.  She was betrothed to Viserys and entertaining Aegon.  Martells really did whatever they wanted with other people’s lives.

Rhaenys was surprised by the tone Darkstar spoke to her cousin, she knew he could be dour, but his tone was venomous.  “Arianne.” Rhaenys turned to her cousin, placed her hand on Arianne’s forearm and patted it. “Perhaps I should not have pulled you from your plans for the day.  I should not have monopolised on your time. I need to speak with Lord Darkstar. I thought he would be with Mother and did not know this opportunity would come.  Will you be fine if I desert you?’

“Of course, cousin Aegon said I could get a more intimate tour of the Keep, so when I marry Viserys I will know my domain.”

“Great. But would it not be better to have Viserys give you such a tour?” Rhaenys knew the answer and did not appreciate Darkstar’s snort of derision.

“Viserys is still stand-offish.” Arianne frowned as if she was hurt her princely husband-to-be was still not comfortable with their upcoming marriage.  Rhaenys and Darkstar knew Arianne well enough to know that was fake.

“How sad.  Maybe he will warm.” Rhaenys smiled a fake smile that looked very real. Arianne nodded and turned to move away; she did not run but both her watchers knew that was only until she knew she was out of sight.

“Intimate tour?” Darkstar scoff. Rhaenys came forward to link her arm in Darkstar’s she did not backoff when he stared at it and growled.

“What is bothering you, Darkstar?” She asked with honest concern, since his duty to protect her mother had been instated, the knight had been nothing but loyal and dedicated.  She knew he was aware of her growing fondness for Willas Tyrell, but he said not a word to any soul.  She knew he could be trusted, she wanted him to know so could she.

“Nothing.” He shook his arm slightly to unhook her, but not violently as she was his sister, and he did not wish her any harm.

“Oh, honey. None of that is going to work.” She did not let go. “Neither the letting go, or me believing you are fine.” She patted his arm affectionately. Somehow, she felt close with this knight, maybe it was how kind he was to her mother and herself when he was kind with absolutely no one else. “What has upset you?”

“I cannot discuss it.” Elia had rejected him, would Rhaenys do the same with the same knowledge.  She was quiet and thoughtful for a moment.

“Would you like to walk me to the Sept of Baelor?”

“I don’t follow the Seven.”

“Oh, why?”

“I prefer the Old Gods.”

“Of course, you do.” She looked like she felt stupid for not knowing that inherently. “You are House Dayne. Blood of the First Men.  You would follow your ancient Gods. Are they better?”

“What do you like about the Seven?” He relaxed as she walked him out the gates.  The soldiers went to halt her but seeing the Dornish Knight stopped. None willing to engage him, all knew he slew what he did not like.

Rhaenys smiled, it was impossible for her to get out of the Keep without a retinue of too many guards.  She had been strangely able to escape the day of her picnic with Willas, though unsure still how.  Unknown to her Darkstar facilitated that with a drawn sword, for his sister. Apparently, they would let her walk out if Darkstar was with her, something she hoped but now could use to her own purposes.

“Is the Sept on fire Rhaenys?” Darkstar asked as their pace accelerated considerably.

“What?” She looked at him confused, looking across there was no smoke, why would he ask that?

“Or are you that pious?”

“No.” She blurted out too quickly.

“So, why are we almost running to the Sept?”

Rhaenys stopped dead and look to their feet.  She had not realised that the chance of escape had set her feet to frantic. “Umm.” She looked up at him, perplexed to how to answer.

Darkstar leaned in close. “Or do we think Willas will finish his devotions and leave before we arrive?  If he has, I can track him and snare him, tie him up.  The man has a dodgy leg, it would not be too difficult.” Darkstar smiled as Rhaenys’ face became the picture of ‘caught’. “Is that what you like about the Seven, Lord Tyrell?”

“Ahhh.” Darkstar had to chuckle at her adorable reaction to having had her plans and subterfuge discovered.

“How about I promise to make sure whether he is at the Sept or not, you will get minutes with him?” Her eyes and mouth became grateful. “I could even make it hours.” He smiled at her as her smile grew at the time extension. “The whole day, as you are my princess.”

“When you say your princess…” She did not want Darkstar to have a desire for her.

“The princess I will save from any dilemma, so long as she marries a hobbley lord and not me.” He reassured her his interest was not romantic, but platonic to her knowledge, it was familial in truth.

Rhaenys looked worried. “I don’t think I will be able to marry a hobbley lord.”

“Why? Have you found you care for him only as a friend?”

“No.” She paused for a long period and Darkstar let her have the time she needed. “I do not believe it will be allowed.”

“The Mad One says…”

“Please be more respectful of my grandfather.” She pleaded.

“Because?”

“I know he is mad, but he is my grandfather, and he is king and even if he could be a better king, he is as good as he can be.”

“Wow, you love the old Dragon.” Darkstar saw his sister had a soft spot for Aerys.

“It is hard some days but yes, in my way I do, just as I know he tries to love me and does in his way.”

“Crazy way.”

Rhaenys nodded. “Yes.”

“Aerys says you can marry - to your heart’s desire.  If that is Willas Tyrell, marry him.”

“We are adversaries.”

“Really?” Darkstar looked confused. “Which one declared war and why?  If he does not say you are as beautiful as you are, I understand your offense, I will be your war commander. I’ll sweep his feet from under him.”

“That is not fair.”

“Martially not literally, that is dishonourable literally. So, who was it and why?”

“We are not adversaries. Our realms are. Uncles would not allow…” She just exhaled sadly.

“Princess Targaryen, I believe King Aerys is not at declared war with any of his realms, currently. Also, marriages can make peace.” Rhaenys smiled at his support. “If anyone other than Willas says no, tell me I will stab them and leave them for the rats to eat.”

The sentiment surprised her, and her eyebrow shot up. “Honestly? No jest.”

“Whisper the one who is hindering your happiness in my ear, and I will remove them from your world.” Darkstar placed his hand over his heart.

Rhaenys reached up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank the Old Gods, that they gave us you, Darkstar.” She smiled warmly with love. “Do you mind me calling you Darkstar?  I know it isn’t your name, but Gerold does not feel like it is the name your mother gave you when you were born.” She appeared contemplative as she stared at him. “Did they rename you after changing their minds?”

“No.  My parents never changed their mind about my name after I was first named.” Rhaenys saw a pain in his eyes at the subject.  Again, she reached up on her toes, this time used her hands to pull his head down and placed a long kiss on his forehead.

As she descended back down, she giggled. Darkstar’s brows knotted. “Can I tell you a story Darkstar?”

“Any you wish.” She linked their arms again and started them to walking.

“When I was little and my mother was having Aegon, I was so excited to have a little brother.  Before his birth I would kiss mother’s tummy and tell him I loved him every day. So excited I waited outside the door when she was birthing him. I was so angry all the men got to go in and see him before me.”

“Rude.”

“I know. Anyway, Father came out and so did Sir Arthur.  Arthur had a bundle in his arms. When Father saw me standing there bouncing excited, he took Arthur’s bundle and he lowered it to show me my little brother Aegon.  He was so beautiful.  He had wisps of silver-gold hair and blue eyes so vibrant I thought they glowed. He smiled at me, now people say newborns can’t smile, but I tell you now, he smiled at me.  I kissed his forehead and said ’I love you Aegon, you are perfect.’” The princess’ eyes were filled with joyful tears at her memory. Darkstar’s well a little too.

Rhaenys came out of her happy memory to see the tale had brought tears to Darkstar’s eyes, he looked wounded. “Why are you hurt Darkstar?”

He shook his head and sniffed pulling his emotions back in. “Never had siblings.”

“Anyway, I am not sure how, but Arthur must have taken Aegon back in some unknown back entrance after Father handed him back to him. Because a few hours later, and I had not moved in concern for mother, as Uncle Oberyn had gone in and not come out to go see Aegon. Also, I heard her still screaming. Uncle Oberyn came out of the room with Aegon, and said I could go see Mother, I wondered how he had Aegon in his arms but when I asked to kiss him again, Uncle Oberyn said he was a prince born now and I would not be being silly with him.”

“He wouldn’t let you kiss him.”

“He didn’t even bend down for me to see him again.” She snorted and looked mischievous. “Against Uncles rules I went in and kissed him good night, but he must have been sleeping on his face for a while because he looked a bit different, still he sighed at me when I kissed him good night.”

“It sounds lovely.”

“It was.” Rhaenys’ features turned dull for a moment.

“Until the day Mother went to his cradle and fell down.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. But she was crying, and she looked at Aegon different after that, like he had changed.”

“Had he?” Had Rhaenys seen the time Egg was swapped for Aegon?

“Yes, again he must have slept funny on his face, and he looked different, but then after that he remained the same, but mother was sadder and not just because Father was gone.”

“Stealing Lady Lyanna.” The Realm’s lie.

“Finding my other mother.”

“Doing what?”

She laughed. “When I was little, I thought my father had gotten me a second mother.  She was pale and beautiful, but her hair was dark, she was beautiful and very young compared to Mother and Father. I liked her she would play with me and hold Mother when she cried.  I wish she had been with us when the Lannister army came to our city.”

“Why?”

“Mother cried a great deal after that, because one of the white men tried to kill Grandfather and was killed himself.” She shook her head. “I now know it was Jaime Lannister and the second mother was a dream because Father had gone to Winterfell for Lady Stark and I never saw him again, even after we went back to the Red Keep.”

“You met your second mother elsewhere?”

“Dragonstone. Not long after Mother’s collapse at Aegon’s cradle.  She packed us up and took us to Dragonstone and I dreamed Father came to us there. After Father left many soldiers came and packed us back to Kings Landing and we haven’t left since.”

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t be if you recall the start of the story was light and lovely.  Aegon was a perfect little brother, and I was overjoyed he was alive.  It is sad that I never felt that same connection with Aegon after Mother fell.  I tried but although I love my brother and I do, so much.”

“Too much?” Darkstar thought of some of their antics.

Rhaenys looked worried for his knowledge. “We are Targaryens.”

“That is not excuse, Rhaenys.”

“Men are not the only ones to have itches and … Viserys was not an option, left Aegon.” She looked disappointed.

“Should I note by your face he needs improvement?”

“No.  You could ask Arianne.” She did not know why she felt comfortable speaking so frankly to Darkstar, but she did, so she took the opportunity.

“Jealous?”

“Are you?”

“Why would I be?” Darkstar had not interacted with the Dornish girl since she arrived to prepare for her marriage to Viserys. Prepare by bedding Aegon.

“Oh, Darkstar.” Rhaenys’ voice was disturbingly sultry, as she breathed his name with lust to her tone. “Darkstar, if a girl ever wanted a knight.”

“What?” He was not the age he pretended, and all pretence disappeared at his elder sister’s speech toward him.

Her tone went back to conversational. “Every girl I have introduced her to in Kings Landing has heard of you, Sir Darkstar Dayne. A knight who makes a girl quiver in the long, hot nights of Dorne.” She grinned at him.

“Oh, by the Gods.” Arianne had been giving history lessons.

“Oh, worry not, you come off great in her stories.” Rhaenys patted his arm and laughed at his screwed-up features. “So, are you jealous?”

“No, what happens in Dorne stays in Dorne. Are you?”

“No. I and Aegon scratched those itches and now, someone else can scratch them for him. I did think I was stuck behind those walls forever. Thought I’d die a maiden.”

“Never.” Darkstar grinned. “Some man would come steal you eventually.  Dark diamonds are even more rare and beautiful than their clear counterparts.”

“We aren’t back to the ‘your princess’ thing again, are we?” She looked worried.

“No.” He laughed. “I have no love to shower with my words, so why not shower a girl who has only heard such honest adoration from her hobbley lord.”

“He does say such nice words about me and unlike others, he is not feeding me a line.”

“I am glad.” Darkstar smiled at her. “If I was your brother, I would bless this matching.”

“Well, if ever you need a sibling Darkstar, I would be happy to fill in.” His eyes dulled to think, maybe not if she knew the truth, maybe like Elia, she would reject him. Rhaenys squeezed his arm. “Really.” She said quietly and with emphasis. “I would adopt you right now. A princess can never have too many little brothers.”

“They can.” Thinking of the mess of all the plots and all the babies.

“Well, I will always have a spot open for you.  Since coming to us you have been a rock in my corner.  I can’t even speak to my mother this honestly or openly about Willas.”

Darkstar squeezed her arm. “You don’t have to give him up or believe you can’t have him so why try? You are a Targaryen Princess, and no little Viper Prince can tell a Dragon Princess who to accept as her mate.”

“A Dragon Princess might not take a Rose as her mate.”

“Dragons are magic, and they can take any damned thing they want, and the Gods will give them their desired love.”

“These Old Gods of yours Sir Dayne?”

“Yeah, I can think of one particular one that would give you just about anything.” He looked at her with love and though she saw it and felt the strength of it, she did not worry for it.

“You have converted me. Let’s plant a Weirwood and start our Godswood.”

“Maybe ask the gardener, Tyrell to plant one in his pretty garden castle.” Darkstar winked.

Rhaenys, having noted they had come to the Sept steps turned to grin up at Darkstar. “Stop it.”

“We are here, ready to run away with your hobbley Lord?”

“Darkstar.” She growled at him for his mischief. She saw Willas appear at the doors finished for the day.

“Oh, he is so handsome, and tall and smart.” Darkstar whispered.

She grinned up at him. “Stop it.”

“His hair is so pretty and his has an adorable wonky leg.” Darkstar ignored her and just teased more. “Oh, Limpy Lord.” He looked for her approval and got a huge smile, but a firm shake of her head.

She punched him. “I said stop it. What if he hears you?”

“He will rescue you from my corruption. Save me Willas, save me.” Rhaenys just started to laugh at him. “I suppose he cannot really run away with you; he might have a flowery carriage.” Rhaenys double over for a minute at his joke, she felt terrible, because Willas deserved her to be angry at Darkstar. “He is so funny too.” Darkstar said in a tiny voice. Rhaenys had to lean against him for stability. “Save me Willas, from this monster.”

Willas noticed Princess Rhaenys walking toward him, what a brilliantly timed exit.  Then he saw how exuberant she was, a wide smile and a delightful laugh at whatever that Dornish knight was saying. He was happy for Rhaenys she obviously was very happy right now; he was not so happy for himself he found.

He asked himself why he would not be happy for his friend and her joy. She must have found an acceptable beau to her uncles; he knew she had been concerned. Good for her.  He however hoped he could limp away before she noticed him.  He answered his query to himself, he was not happy at her happiness because he had forgotten he was her friend and nothing else.

No matter how much he might have hoped.  He was from The Reach; her maternal family from Dorne, it would never have… except he had begun to think it would work out. That his leg did not matter, their families and their dislike of each other did not matter.  He nodded and moved his path so he would pass as far from that heartbreaking scene to him that he could.

Then Rhaenys laughed again at her beau’s words and fell into his arms.  Willas sniffed sharply to hold back his pain, he increased his pace as much as he could and remain stable on his damned wobbly leg and tried to escape before he showed his pain at his misconception.

“I think I hear the click of your hobbley lord.”

“I said stop it.” She smiled at Darkstar, but she turned to see Willas.  He was heading off at more of a speed than she had ever seen him manage, he also had a strange look to his features as he kept his eyes firmly down.  His path would miss her completely if he did not look up and see her, that thought scared her, to miss this wonderful opportunity to spend time together because he did not see her.

“Willas!” She called, and her hidden brother saw her worry and tears start to form at whatever thoughts she was having. His head moved slightly as if drawn to her call, but he determinedly set his eyes to the stones below him and his pace quickened to the edge of dangerous.

“Is he trying to run away from you instead of with you?” Darkstar asked for the confounding response of the lord.

Rhaenys quickly glanced at Darkstar, and he saw fear in her eyes at the possibility he was right. As she looked back at Willas’ retreating form a tear ran down her cheek as she was unable to stop it. “Willas!” As people around the square before the Sept began to take notice that the Princess was calling a man, she tried to stop this being sung into her uncle’s ear as her disobeying him. “Lord Tyrell!”

Darkstar heard the distress in his sister’s voice, he understood why she had changed the call to protect herself and Willas from Oberyn but changing a term would be no use if the princess fell to the stones in devastation and became a very notable crying heap.  Darkstar could see if Lord Tyrell did not turn soon, his sister would fall.

So, Darkstar swept his sister into his arms and used his long strides to get in front of the eye downcast lord.  He dumped the weeping Rhaenys directly in Willas’ path.  He near fell into her, as she stood where she had been dumped, looking like a hurt princess. Instead, he fell backward onto the stones. Rhaenys offered him her hand to aid his rise, he ignored it, he could not touch her.

“I don’t need help or pity.” He snapped. Rhaenys felt stung and pulled her hand back into her body, crossing her arms across her body to give herself a feeling of some type of armour.

“No, you need a cuff to the back of your head.” Darkstar got angry for his hurt sister.

“Darkstar.” She pulled him back slightly with her quiet voice and shake of her head.  Darkstar knew what she was feeling she had saved him from this dive about being rejected by his mother.  Now this lord had rejected Rhaenys and due to her years of cloistering she had no armour to take it. Tears filled her eyes and she spun to look away.

“Yes, Darkstar leave me be.” Willas had never been so rude to anyone, but he could not be genteel with Rhaenys new beau right now.  Was he trying to prove how much better he was than the crippled lord?

“I will.” Darkstar snarled into Willas’ face. He went to Rhaenys and gently placed his hand on her back. “Shall I take you home to the Keep?” He knew they should clear up whatever that trip up was, but he could see Rhaenys was falling completely apart at Willas and his reaction to her. She nodded, because if she spoke anyone who heard her would know instantly the princess was crying.

She said only one word, so quiet only the two men nearest her would hear. “Please.”

Darkstar glared at Willas.  After he got Rhaenys to safety he was going to ride to Highgarden and burn it to the ground for this wound done by a son of House Tyrell on her soft heart. “I am sorry, it seems I rescued you from Arianne to only lead you to harm.”

She did not turn but as he leaned to see her face, he saw her try to smile but dragons would not even have had the strength to pull up that frown. Her lip started to tremble, and she mouthed to him silently. “Please take me home.”

The depth of her pain worried Darkstar, she may be so hurt she just let Oberyn put her in some unworthy man’s bed, and he doubted right now she ever wanted to leave the Keep again. Willas had broken her wings - even if she did not really have them, she thought she did. She had handed Willas her fragile little heart and he had crushed it and now she wanted to hide in darkness.

Darkstar nodded with a gentle smile, he got her some steps away and excused himself to ‘pick something up’.  She waited her head in her chest.  Darkstar walked back to Willas who still struggled to get up. “Get your pathetic brokenness up and go apologise to the princess.”

“What?” Willas looked up into the scariest eyes he had ever encountered.

“I said, to get up and go apologise or I will break your other leg.” Darkstar snarled. He looked over at his distraught sister and saw she was starting to draw attention.  His attention went from the stranded lord, after grabbing his collar and reefing him to his feet, to the crumbling woman ahead.  His voice became a roar. “Everyone set your eyes to the stones, do not look upon your princess, or I will slide my sword through each of your breasts!” With one last glare at Willas Darkstar went to his sister to get her away.

Lord Tyrell was stunned, firstly that it only took one hand for Darkstar to get him up, and secondly for the rage the knight exhibited, why was he blaming Willas? Though Willas had only seen Rhaenys a few times in person, he worried for the knight’s reason for rage and the princess’ now deflated profile. Had she been that hurt he had refused her pity?

Darkstar moved her fast as he could, she did not need the prying eyes of the people of King’s Landing, and it was a long walk back to the Keep. This time there would be no joyful steps to make it shorter. Rhaenys maybe twenty years of age, but she was still so naïve and trusting, because she had not the experience of a twenty-year-old of heart. Right now, she was as fragile as a baby bird who had fallen from her nest.

He got her to the Keeps gates and his cloak had sheltered his upset sister from as much view as he could, it had also soaked many tears.  Darkstar may not like too many people, but Rhaenys was his sister and he wanted to break someone for her injury.

“Want me to break all his limbs for you?” He asked with the worry of a seventeen-year-old brother wanting to stop his sister’s tears.

Rhaenys looked at him disturbed. “Why would I want that?” She did not want Willas broken because he upset her, she wanted him to not have snapped at her.

“He made you cry.”

“So?” She shook her head. “I would never wish to know he was hurt.”  She kicked herself internally, she had made a faux par, she should never have presented her heart to the world, she should have just let her Uncle Oberyn decide. Married the first offer that got her out of the Red Keep. She wished her father was alive.  She wanted to run to him as she had when little and for him to wrap her in his arms and tell her she was safe. She had never missed him as much as this moment.

“He should not upset you.” He should burn!

She turned to gaze at the knight. “Thank you Darkstar.”

“For?”

“I really would adopt you; you have defended me better than my real brother ever has.”

“I would avenge you.” Her hand went to his cheek.

“No need.  I have simply learnt a lesson today.” She frowned deeper. “I should not have lamented being held in the Red Keep.”

“Rhaenys, don’t let this make you hide away. Don’t let it led you into a bad decision.”

“You were wrong Sir Darkstar.” She looked into the Keep. “Dragon Princess do not get their desires.  We must accept our hearts are targets, not treasures. I return to my cage which I never should have left.” From within the Keep they could see Prince Oberyn striding towards them. Rhaenys wiped her face and went to meet her uncle.

Darkstar fumed as he heard Oberyn’s words, “Where have you been? I have three Dornish lords waiting to meet you to choose from.”

“Well, Uncle, let us go see them.” She took his arm and allowed him to move her to his plans for her future.

Darkstar was livid, he truly wished to break something, he was unsure how long he stood glowering, but it must have been a lengthy time for he heard the tap of Willas’ cane behind him. “I would not come closer if you wish to live.” He growled without looking.

“I demand an explanation.” Willas said with all the authority of the son of a House Paramount.

“Fuck you!” Darkstar spun with the rage of the son of the royal house. “I do not understand you, Tyrell. Everyone including your family call you cripple.  The one person in this world that looks at you and does not see it and you take her fragile beautiful snowflake of a heart, and you smash it with your self-pity.”

“Excuse me?” Willas did not need a lecture from the princess’ beau.

Darkstar stared cold blue eyes down into Willas’ hazel eyes. “If you have caused her to surrender to a terrible situation and a worse cage, I will pull Highgarden down brick by brick. I will salt every square inch of fertile land in your realm, and I will poison the rivers.”

Willas was of two minds, he was glad this man was so protective of Rhaenys, she deserved that dedication and the second worried whether she was safe with this man and his fury. Darkstar stalked into the Keep. “Close the gates.” He commanded the soldiers.

Oberyn was glad Rhaenys had finally taken the time to do her duty to House Martell, he was not looking at his niece for he would see she had not agreed to his wisdom but resigned herself to his punishment. He was so concentrated on the information he walked into the territory of a dragon without knowledge.

“Prince Oberyn, you had best watch where you walk.” Viserys superior tones came to the Dornish Prince.  He stopped and looked to the king’s son. Viserys was flanked by two guards, and he stood directly in their path. “Step aside.”

“Perhaps your highness might be more polite with his niece.” Oberyn would not step aside for this upstart, he was going to be no one, Aegon would be king.  His words annoyed Viserys, but the prince looked to his niece and saw what her other uncle had not, Rhaenys was in pain.

“It was not my niece whom I told to step aside.” Viserys responded, he stepped forward, with a sympathetic expression. “I told you to watch yourself and turn aside.  I will be taking Rhaenys with me.” Viserys took his nieces arm off her other uncle and transferred it to his own.  She was so stunned she let him and did not slow her pace to stop him until they were out of sight of her Dornish uncle.

“What are you doing?” She asked him.

Viserys flicked his wrist to tell his guards to leave them, then moved her into one of the Keeps gardens. “You looked like you needed a hug.” Rhaenys only looked suspicious for a few moments as Viserys led her to a bench and sat them both down. Then without a word he wrapped his arms around his niece and just held her to feel better. She smiled against his chest.

Younger servants who witnessed this scene were set to whispers. Old servants wore warm smiles to see the silver prince consoling his dark niece, in a garden where they were ‘alone’.  Viserys asked nothing just held her quietly until her head came from his chest. “Please tell me this is not because of a certain pout boy who shares a hair colour with me.” He asked concerned it might be.

“Did you think it would be?” Her expression was perplexed.

“I hoped I still know my Nys well enough to say it wasn’t.” He smiled at her to say he did not judge but was glad her indication was it wasn’t Aegon for a reason.

“It wasn’t.” She smiled up at her uncle, most did not see this part of Viserys, she doubted Aegon, or Daenerys really had. Viserys was a pompous prince with almost everyone, it was why he was hard to marry off, but ‘Rys’ was different with his ‘Nys’.

“Good.”

“I don’t even know where he is.” She shrugged.

“Oh.” A shadow passed over his eyes, and he looked as if he was thinking a terrible thought. Rhaenys gave him an expression to say he should explain. “The boy you have … shared soft time with in the past, is spending soft time with the girl I am to spend soft time with in the future.”

“Oh.” She had expected that, but she had not had an exchange with Viserys to know how he felt about it or if he even knew Arianne was betraying him with Aegon. “Viserys…”

“Hey, don’t pity me, I am a Targaryen, I know how to live without love. Don’t we?” The mention of pity and love reminded Rhaenys of her recent pain and her eyes and mouth dropped at the reminder. “Hey, Nys, I am fine.” He tried to stop her being upset for him, then as she did not improve, he pulled her head again to his chest. “You aren’t though, what happened?”

“I learnt the true meaning of being a Targaryen Princess.” She said so quietly he almost missed it.

“Do I have to sneer at someone for you? Scream how I am a Targaryen Prince. Maybe threaten to have their head removed?” He held his head back. “I will throw a right royal tantrum for you Nys.  Want me to?”

“You know Rys,” She pulled her head back to look at him. “If you acted half as nice to other girls as you do me, you might have other women wishing to be your princess.”

“But you’re my princess.” He eyed her suspiciously.

“Your soft time princess.” It was the only way as younger royals they could refer to sexual intimacy and it had become their phrase for it.

He shook his head. “I don’t know I want a soft time princess.  This thing between Aegon and Arianne could see my nights free after I am wed, get some good reading in.” Rhaenys laughed at him, if any girl could see Viserys as he could be with her, she was sure there would be lines to be his princess, except Viserys was only this way with his mother and her.

“I want you to have more than just good reading time in your marriage, Rys.”

“I want you to run away and marry some boy who makes you smile; we will do it together.”

“Over the sentiment Daenerys should be your bride.”

“I have been thinking about it since she when traveling with Mother. I realised if Daenerys should be my bride because she is my sister, then you should marry Aegon because you are his sister.” She nodded at his logic. He shook his head. “Well, honestly being a sibling is no reason to ruin my life and Dany’s life. Definitely not worth ruining yours Nys. So, I am glad she is not my bride.” He nodded satisfied with his reasoning. Then he frowned slightly. “But do not be offended, I would hope she isn’t really going to be Aegon’s queen.  Aegon is a better person than me, not as grumpy or, I feel I am cruel some days and I do not like myself on those days. Still, why not wish happiness for Daenerys in her future marriage.”

“Hope she finds that boy from the Black Cell in Essos and never returns.” Rhaenys nodded as she gazed into the middle distance. She had tried to dissuade Daenerys’ fascination for the boy, for her brother, but as Viserys said time had granted contemplation. Viserys also gazed into the middle distance and nodded.

“She had started to dull; he made her shine. Aegon does not make my little sister shine.  I want her to shine.” He turned and stroked her face. “I want you to shine too Nys, why aren’t you shining anymore?” She had been when not being lectured by Oberyn Martell, since King Aerys gave her the freedom to seek suitors, releasing her from her betrothal to Tyrion Lannister. Now she was dark and sad.

“World is dark and cruel Rys.” She laid her head back on his chest.

That is where Aerys found his son and granddaughter, in a garden Viserys wrapped around the girl to console her.  When Oberyn was complaining to Elia that Viserys had absconded with Rhaenys when he had lords for her to meet, the king knew to find a garden and Viserys would be consoling Rhaenys, just as he had as a child.  If Rhaenys was upset and crying, then disappeared you could always find her being held lovingly by her uncle in a garden under a tree.  At least they had learnt to sit on benches and not the ground now.

For almost five years she had been the only other child for Viserys to play with and vice versa.  They were great little friends and probably held each other together as the world crumbled around them.  He could wed Viserys to Rhaenys, Elia would agree to her daughter being queen surely. No, he was not going to steal his gift from her, if she chose Viserys fine, but he knew she wanted out, she would not choose Viserys.  Strange as it was this union would never be because the people loved each other too much to be married.

“Your uncle is annoying me.” Aerys interrupted them. “Viserys, go drown him in alcohol or something that will shut him up.  I need to talk to Rhaenys.” The two young Targaryens shared a look. But Viserys was a dutiful son in that he tried to do as his father seemed to wish.

As he passed his father, Viserys however proved himself a Dragon. “Don’t make it worse, if you do, I will remind you of your first son.” Rhaegar would not back away from a confrontation if it was about those he loved, and Viserys was warning he would not either.

“You will have no reason to bring fire to your father.” Aerys replied, thankful Rickard sometimes gave him sage words to say.  Viserys purple eyes said he better not have cause.

Aerys waited for the Kingsguards to take up positions around them at a distance that would give them uninterrupted privacy. Then he walked to stand in front of his granddaughter. “How has you day been? I hear you went out to Devotions.” Darkstar had sought his grandfather to warn him soon there would be only Six Kingdoms because he was going to incinerate The Reach. Which said something had upset Rhaenys, probably the Tyrell lord.

Her face scrunched up as her pain overtook her.  Aerys took a step back, he did not know how to deal with emotional distraught women, and Rhaenys looked crushed, by the entire world. Oh no, Rickard she had fallen in love with the fellow, and he said or did something stupid.

And Rhaenys is too naïve in the ways of courting to brush it off. Rickard nodded as the girl’s heart crumbled before them.

I am not happy Rickard!

Right now, is not about how you feel.

“Get a maester for my granddaughter.” As only Hightower moved Aerys looked around in rage. “All of you, now!” Every guard left to source an aid for the princess. “Stand up Rhaenys.” He did not yell but still commanded. She did as she was told.

Aerys. Rickard warned.

I know. Aerys knew Rickard was telling him to be gentle with Rhaenys.  He did something that shocked even Rickard, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. “You just let it all out little girl.”

“Popa.” She sobbed.

“Was the Tyrell boy an idiot?” He asked softly as he stroked her hair.

She shook her head, “No.” Aerys however knew the man was an idiot for a moment at least, all men were in regard to their girls. “I was… I did not …”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Rhaenys you are my granddaughter and I said so.” He patted her back and stroked her hair.

“That doesn’t…”

“Popa is right, and his little Desert Rose will believe him.” Aerys was the sanist man he had been in years in that moment, because it was what she needed.

“Maybe…” Aerys pulled his head back to look at his granddaughter. “He found a cause to not continue to be my friend.”

“What possible cause?”

“Maybe someone found out I had disobeyed, and they threatened him or his family.”

“Lady Olenna would have asked me directly their punishment.”

“Maybe there is no cause to fight for.” Maybe Willas did not think her as important as she hoped.

Aerys stroked her cheek. “You have not disobeyed, and you are a princess.  It will be alright.”

“Uncle Oberyn has some people for me to meet.”

“No, go to your mother, Darkstar will be outside your door to make sure no one presents any men to you.” Aerys waited for Gerold Hightower to return. “Take her to a private place.” 

Gerold was gentle with the girl and Aerys was glad the man was loyal.  He was still enraged that people had decided today to attack and reject his grandchildren.  Elia had set Darkstar to striding and the Tyrell had shattered Rhaenys.  He would not tolerate these attacks on his family.  A momentary worry passed by him, what if Egg and Jon were not safe right now? He did not have the power to protect them all the way in Essos.  He screamed for Varys, until the Red Keep echoed with his screams.

Varys rushed in with his head bobbing. “Send our fastest ship and the number of Dragons my queen asked for and an extra chest as well.  I want my family out of Meereen and back here by tomorrow eve.”

“There is no way…” How did the king expect Varys to do that?

Aerys spun with wild eyes. “I am aware, it is to inspire you and whomever you employ to do the task, to do it as quickly as possible.  Just make it as close to tomorrow eve as you and they can! Tell the men on the ship, I will give them a chest of Dragons for speed each; every day they are not here beyond my deadline I take a Dragon out.” Varys nodded. And started to back out of the room. “As you are going Varys, do have Lord Willas Tyrell brought to see me.”

“I will arrange for him to be in the throne room first thing tomorrow, your grace.” Varys smiled that annoying smile at him.

“No, you will send soldiers to carry him here if necessary. Tyrell is before my throne before sunset, or I will send an army to assassinate every unwed girl of twenty and under in The Reach. At midnight, they will march.”

“Your grace, Lady Margery would be in that number. Lady Olenna will …”

“I fear no Thorn Queen, Varys. I am quite aware Lady Margery would be included, in fact I will demand she is the first and I get her head on a plate to prove it.” Varys saw wrath not just madness in his king’s eyes. “Bring him to me!” Aerys had fought too hard and long for these treasons against his family.

“May I ask what…” Varys knew Aerys was insane, everyone did, but he had no reason to take offense with House Tyrell.

“No!!”

Rhaenys entered her rooms and smiled at Darkstar who was haunting her door. She walked on and was surprised as she turned that he had not entered after her.  She felt a hand on her shoulder. “I will be fine Mother; I have had a terrible morning is all.” Her eyes were still on the door and her brow furrowed.

“Come sit, we will have some relaxing tea, I believe we both had terrible mornings.” Rhaenys nodded with a small smile, but her head kept turning to the door as she followed her mother.

“Why has Darkstar remained outside?”

“Your mother has taken a dislike to him.” Cersei’s voice came from the table they were heading to.

“I have not.” Elia had not, she had not taken her morning well, and somehow had in a few minutes, turned what turned out to be her only Targaryen child cold.  “He and I had a…”

“Are you the reason for his mood this morning?” Rhaenys asked with a slight touch of accusation in her voice.

“I beg your pardon.” Elia looked at her daughter, the young woman looked displeased.

“When I found Darkstar this morning he was striding out of the Keep in a fury.  Did you do something to upset him?”

“Rhaenys now is not the time, my morning was very upsetting for all involved.”

“Mother.” Rhaenys sounded disappointed. “Can we not be better than Uncle Oberyn?”

“Oh, everyone can be better than your uncle Oberyn.  He is the slime at the bottom of a cesspit.” Cersei said calmly.

“Mother.” Jo’Hannah exhaled with pain at her mother referencing her father so.

Cersei caressed her daughter’s cheek. “Sweetling, you must become aware at some point.”

“His is my father your husband.”

“How sweet you are.” Cersei smiled. “You know all those sisters you have and love.”

“Yes.” Jo’Hannah smiled brightly as she thought of her many sand snake sisters.

“If your father wasn’t the slime at the bottom of a cesspit, you would have none younger than Steffan.  You do though, so your father is. Do you know why?”

“We are Dornish?”

“My father, Lord Tywin is an arrogant old fool who should have realised he would not convince the King to have me take your Aunt Elia’s place and should have betrothed me to a Stark, because Starks, are honourable.”

“I don’t know Cersei, Lord Brandon… Ashara.” Elia disagreed. Jo’Hannah listened to her aunt then looked at her mother.

“See, I am not stupid like Catelyn Tully, I would have demanded the good one before he met Ashara and fell in-love.  Because even if Ned found he loved Ashara, he would have stayed loyal and never pursued her.  Marry a Stark.”

“I have never met a Stark.”

“Would that be your advice to me too, Aunt Cersei?” Rhaenys asked with a smile.

“Oh, it is my advice for everyone.  Marry a Stark or a good Targaryen Prince.  The rest of the realm, they are all broken and undesirable.”

“How much wine has she had?” Rhaenys asked her mother.

“Enough to speak the truth.” Cersei said. “About a bottle and a half. If you marry a Stark, sweetling, you don’t have to drink wine to dull you enough you don’t want to hang yourself with your own hair when you look at your husband.”

“I am sure Mother you are wrong.” Jo’Hannah said with determination.

“Oh, why?”

“Steffan would not make his wife wish to drink or hang herself with her own hair.” Jo’Hannah looked at her elder cousin. “How would you even do that?” Cersei started to mime, and Elia grabbed her arms.

“We do not need instructions.” Cersei shrugged.

“Back to topic.” Rhaenys shook her head about Cersei’s opinion of Prince Oberyn. “Darkstar?”

Elia looked worried. “What did he say?”

“Nothing. Which I told him would not work because nothing was not his state, something was.  Now I find it could have been your fault.”

“Rhaenys…” At least he hadn’t told his sister who he was.

“Do not do that.  Darkstar has been nothing but loyal and dedicated to us and the only Dornishman not trying to use us for their advantage. I thought you found him as comforting as I do to have around.”

“Even I find him comforting.” Cersei said to Elia. “He reminds me of Arthur and Rhaegar.  Always compassionate. Sweetling.” Cersei again touched Jo’Hannah’s cheek.

“Let me guess I should also consider a Dayne husband.”

Cersei patted Jo’Hannah’s cheek and smiled proudly. “That is my girl.”

“Maybe I should take Jo’Hannah’s great advice.” Rhaenys said. “Uncle wants a Dornish House, surely he would agree to House Dyane.”

“No!” Elia snapped and got everyone’s attention.  Cersei narrowed her eyes and then after a minute as Jo’Hannah and Rhaenys still looked confused, her eyes widened.

“No.” Cersei breathed out quietly and Elia turned terrified eyes to Cersei’s reaction. Cersei held Elia’s eyes for a minute and then she smirked. “Jo’Hannah, perhaps your aunt needs time with your cousin.” She rose and started to usher her golden daughter out.

“Cersei.” Elia tried to call her good-sister back.

“Explains so much.” She said as she disappeared out the door, coming face to face with the knight. Cersei smiled up at him, as Jo’Hannah continued around the bend of the corridor Cersei looked up into Darkstar’s eyes. “Beware House Martell.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning.” She got right next to his ear. “Nephew.” She whispered. Cersei planned to glide passed and away but was caught by Darkstar’s iron grip. “Not me.”

“Who?”

“Them.” Cersei swung her eyes around to indicate there were many in the plot.

“Why?”

“They want Lyanna’s son, they will bleed every Targaryen to get him.  Including my good-sister and her daughter.” She shook his grip and continued her glide.  Elia’s terrified face came to the door.

“She knows.” Darkstar glared at the woman who had rejected him.  He should not care, as far as he knew he was safe, Elia rejected him, he should not care her brothers were not trustworthy.  But Rhaenys had said she would adopt him. “Do something.”

“Why? Because that is what a good son would do? As Aerys said, I had and have no mother.”

Elia shrank back into her rooms.  Rhaenys was right, Darkstar had done nothing but be loyal and she had treated him like a traitor, now he treated her like one. “Gerold.”

“Save it. I do have a sister however, so I will keep my vigil, to save her. If you want to live, stay close to her.” He turned and faced away as if to take his sentry position.

Aerys could not decide if he was going to make Willas wait for him to enter, or if he should make him limp in with Aerys glaring down at him from the Iron Throne. He debated it internally for as long as it took to get the man into the Keep. Rickard would not give opinion on which would be best.  So Aerys sat and he thought of a different Dragon King, what would Aerion do?

Willas Tyrell was sent into the throne room by Lord Commander Hightower and the expression he wore said the knight was not sure he would be walking out.  The Lord Commander was a knight of The Reach, he had owed loyalty to House Tyrell before taking his vows to the Kingsguards. This young man was wiser than his father and his grandfather before him, it would be a shame if Aerys stole his potential from his realm, who knows how The Reach would weather Aerys’ wrath. Would they drag themselves back as the Realms believed House Stark had?

Willas walked in on his cane and saw the room was dark with only two braziers beside the Iron Throne to illuminate the large room.  King Aerys sat upon his throne, and he looked every bit the Mad King. He sneered down from his perch and his crown, and the swords spread the light eerily.

When Willas got to where petitioners were usually restricted to, he stopped. “Your grace.” He bowed as deep as he could. The king did not speak or move just glared down on the lord.  Willas waited for the king and after ten minutes of being glared at was about to try anew.

“Men kneel before their king.” Aerys said ominously.

“As I am sure you have been informed. I have an injured leg and cannot.”

“A man who will not kneel for his king.” Aerys growled.

“I cannot kneel, your grace, not I will not.” Willas knew how dangerous of a situation he was in.

Aerys rose from his throne and took extremely slow steps down the stairs to meet the lord. “Do you know why you are here?”

“No, your grace.”  Had the Dornish Knight accused him of something?

“Hmm.” Aerys looked him up and down slowly as he walked around the lord. As he got to face him the second time the door opened slightly.

“Clean and clear.” Lord Hightower said to inform the king he had privacy and Hightower held the door.

“Would you like to know?”

“If the king wishes to inform me.”

“Hmm.” Aerys hummed again, to do his slow traverse around the lord again. “I hear you follow The Seven, do devotions daily even.”

“I do.”  Aerys stopped to Willas’ left facing the door.

“Were you in the Sept of Baelor’s Forecourt today Lord Tyrell.” Aerys tuned his head to stare at the man.

“This morn.”

“Ahhh.” Aerys continued his circuit.  He stopped as he faced the lord.

“I am looking for people who were in the Sept’s forecourt today. This morn.” Willas did not say anything, but Aerys could see his mind was working to figure out what was going on. “You see, I hear you are an intelligent man. I need an intelligent man to explain something to me that I am at a loss to understand.”

“I will try my best your grace.” Willas bow his head slightly.

Aerys did another circuit, stopping at Willas’ right to face his throne. “Shed light on a mystery.”

“What illumination I have I shall give.” Aerys walked toward his throne then turned to again face the lord.

“Good, you see.” Aerys looked to his right, there was nothing there, but he just wanted to make the boy sweat. “I have a granddaughter.” Willas’ eyes snapped to look at the king at the reference to the girl. “I love her very much, her name is Rhaenys. Have you heard of my granddaughter?” Aerys eyeballed Willas with his question.

“Yes, your grace.”

“She was in the forecourt of the Sept today.  And she was harmed, in the forecourt of the Sept today, this morn.” Willas’ head flinched in a desire to react, but he held it firm and Aerys was impressed.

“That is terrible.”

“It is.  I am rounding up everyone to find out who harmed my Rhaenys.  I will find who hurt her.” Aerys started his slow circuit again. “I asked you here as you are a lord of a great House and you have right to be heard.  Unlike the commoners.”

“The commoners, your grace?”

“Oh, yes, them I am just going to pile up and soak in Wildfire and set them alight in a mighty bonfire, to lighten my little princess’ life again.” Aerys said as he got to Willas’ face again, he watched the lord’s eyes bulge and him swallow hard. “Because no one hurts my Rhaenys. Do you understand?”

Willas understood, and he wondered if the Dornish knight Lord Darkstar Dayne had blamed him for upsetting Rhaenys’ feelings. Would Sir Dayne be so petty?  Worse, was Rhaenys that hurt?

“You cannot understand how very angry I am.  My girl came to me with her fragile glass little heart shattered in her hands, she was just like a little bird with broken wings. No one breaks my granddaughter. No one shatters her fragile precious beautiful heart and lives.  So, did you see the monster?”

“Ummm.” Willas did not know what to answer.

“Darkstar knows who it was, but Rhaenys will not let him speak their name, and her lips are sealed.  So, I must ask others.  I do not know if you would know her by sight.” Aerys of course knew he did. He stood before Willas and mimed a circle on the left side of his head as if saying she or he was crazy. “She has this…”

“Curl?”

“Yes, curl over her left…”

“Right ear.”

“Yes, a curl over her right ear.  Always has since she was tiny, even when she had no other hair always this curl over her…” He mimed the curl over his left ear.

“Right ear.”  Aerys smiled at Willas correcting his mistakes, the man must have gazed long and intensely to note that.

“Right ear. When her other hair grew long and thick, without cutting always this little curl over her right ear.  And she has always had the big brown eyes and longest dark lashes. She is a beauty.” Willas was unconsciously nodding, and Aerys understood as he looked in this man’s eyes, the lad felt great affection for Rhaenys so, he had been an idiot because he would not have wounded her on purpose.

“So, as you can imagine, I would think you would notice her.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Did you see who hurt her?” Willas stared at the king, Aerys willed him to be courageous, but he understood that was a fatal endeavour with himself. “It is not so much just what they did but what they have caused, you see.”

“Caused your grace?” That had Willas turning his head to follow the king’s movements.

“Princess Rhaenys is seeking suitors, and her Uncle Oberyn is set on Dornish husbands only.”

“He must be proud of his efforts.”

“He is.  He has three winners.  I doubt Rhaenys will wish any, though now I see she will accept her uncle’s advice.”

“Three? Hasn’t she already chosen?” Willas in his confusion did not hide the pain in his tone as well as he could. Aerys patted himself on the back, he had made a discovery.

“She is shattered and has wept all day she will meet them tomorrow, though I believe Oberyn as already chosen the man whose father is wealthiest and will aid Dorne’s plans more. Which would be bad for everyone.”

“How?”

“Oh, he will give Rhaenys to the man’s son and the man will give him what he needs to march through the Red Mountains and the Prince’s Pass, invade The Reach and march on Kings Landing.  Which is fine.”

“It is?” Willas did not think it fine.

“Yes, the part I don’t like is the son, is disrespectful of women and he has never treated Rhaenys as the Princess she is, imagine how he will treat her when she is his wife in his castle and no longer protected.”

“Is Princess Rhaenys not involved with Sir Dayne?”

Aerys laughed. “Oberyn would never allow her to wed a loyal, sworn House.” He shook his head at the thought.

“He loves her.” Willas said, he had seen it in Darkstar’s rage.

“And she him.” Aerys heard the inhale to steady himself that Willas took. Darkstar would not, he was not willing to engage in Targaryen incest, Rhaenys was safe from her little brother… Aerys spun and looked at Willas. “Aegon.”

“Your grace.”

“He…” Aerys looked to the doors. “Hightower, bring me Darkstar!” He then stalked up to sit on the throne. “I will skin him alive.” He grumbled.

“Perhaps your grace…”

“Do not move Lord Tyrell.”

Darkstar entered the room after a few minutes. “I don’t have time.” He said before he saw Willas and growled his displeasure. “Unless you called me here to kill him, I have much time for that.”

“Did Aegon dare?”

“What?” Darkstar did not know what that question was. “If you are in a flight of fancy, I am busy, making sure Oberyn doesn’t force some Dornish prick on Rhaenys.  Making sure she doesn’t cave to changing to a different cage.”

“She will be safe surely Hightower replaced you.” Aerys knew Hightower understood his own desires for his little princess.

“Yeah, with three Kingsguards.”

“There you go.” She was protected.

“That is not enough.” Darkstar spat at the king. “If they fail and she is cornered, I will…”

Aerys exhaled. “Did Aegon dare? I asked you to discover if anyone… did he?”

Darkstar understood, Aerys had worked out if Rhaenys was not pure, Aegon had been the perpetrator. “I will not betray her.  I owe you no loyalty.  I will not answer that.”

“Hightower!” Aerys saw for his sister Darkstar would not speak. When the Lord Commander appeared, he gave new orders. “Bring me…”

“Don’t you dare drag her in here.” Darkstar snarled.

“My son.” Aerys said as he stared at his grandson.

“Perhaps…” Willas did not want to be part of this insane show, he was feeling nauseous at the thought this had been the princess’ existence.

“No, Lord Tyrell, you still owe me answers.” Aerys glared at the man who crushed Rhaenys’ heart. So, they waited, Willas standing still, Darkstar pacing and Aerys sitting the throne, until the door opened again, and Prince Viserys walked in. 

Darkstar stopped his pacing to stand to Willas’ right, Viserys came forward and stood to the Tyrell man’s left.  Viserys looked across to the Dornish knight and then curiously at his father.

“Father.” Viserys bent his head to his father. “Who have we here and why am I here?”

Aerys pointed at Willas. “Lord Willas Tyrell, firstborn son of Highgarden.” Viserys looked him over assessingly then calmly looked back at his father.

“Do I have time to greet him?” He had heard little of this lord, he had however noted a change in his niece’s demeanour of late when the name was mentioned in her hearing, she would smile a tiny happy smile at it mention, Viserys would guess because he did not discuss such with her, that she had knowledge of this lord and it was good.

“Go ahead.” Aerys nodded.

“Good evening Lord Tyrell.” He extended his hand. Willas took it and shook it. “Lovely to meet you. Now what?” He had no clue what was going on.

“I have a question. Is your nephew impressing himself upon his sister? Or has he ever?”

Viserys looked uncomfortable and looked across at Darkstar. “Aegon is currently bedding my betrothed Princess Arianne, and believe me if he was to ask Rhaenys, you would know.” Willas was not comfortable hearing this conversation.

“How would I know?”

“Well, either Darkstar or I would kill him in her defence. As to previously, well Father I don’t peek at keyholes, I am a prince. Also, I will not discuss Rhaenys and her life with a stranger present.”

“He is here to tell me what happened in the city this morn. As neither Darkstar nor Rhaenys will.” Aerys explained the lord’s presence.

“Maybe show her the respect of not delving into something she wants to keep private.” Viserys did not see how hurting the person who hurt Rhaenys would heal Rhaenys. “Sometimes I think I should just whisk that girl off to Dragonstone away from all you people and we will live isolated and alone.” Viserys shook his head.

“Maybe I should just give Dorne their Dornish Queen and Marry Rhaenys to you.” Aerys said watching Lord Tyrell, who quickly hid his distaste of that idea, as he was hiding his surprise at Viserys’ stealing plan.

“No. I mean sure, we could but you want a greater love in a marriage than we have.  It would be like marrying her to Darkstar, there.” Viserys indicated the knight. Aerys turned his gaze to the knight with contemplation.

“I will hand Rhaenys the pillow she smothers you with if you keep contemplating that too much longer.” Darkstar growled to dissuade Aerys madness.

“He is of course correct Rhaenys may find Darkstar comical, and she may like him, but she is a little disturbed by his apathy to the human condition.” Viserys nodded in agreement. “It is why I think even I would irk her, I fell a little too close to your tree, Father.”

“I want to know who broke her and had her presenting her broken heart to me today!” Aerys did not care he wanted Rhaenys smiling and healed!

“Should we not be more concerned with stopping House Martells plans to gift her hand for their own power gains? May I advise you free her more?” Viserys did not know why Lord Tyrell why held here.

“How?” Aerys leaned forward.

“Currently, she can choose a husband of her choice, which we know in her current hurt state will be Oberyn’s choice, well, give her the freedom to choose to not wed at all.  Give my niece a castle of her own and steal her from all these men that would shatter her heart.” Viserys knew Rhaenys would still marry, but she needed a bit of free air.

“Wise idea.” Aerys liked it, but he had brought this lord in to force his hand, now what to do with him. “And Sir Darkstar you can keep her safe in that castle.”

“What if I want to wed?”

“You can take her to Rhaenys’ castle and live with her there.”

“Hey, I know your grace.” Darkstar sounded excited. “Why don’t you let Rhaenys decide, as it is her life.”

“I second his motion.” Viserys nodded.

“All in favour?” Darkstar asked and all except Aerys raised their hands, “The ayes have it. Now, I have to go stop Oberyn marrying Rhaenys off.”

“I have to lever Aegon out of my bed.” Viserys turned to leave with Darkstar.

“No.” Aerys halted all their steps. “I am king, and I did not agree.  Rhaenys will wed if she doesn’t House Martell has opportunity to continue their campaign.”

Viserys clicked his tongue. “Then he needs to go.” He cocked his head to Willas.

“Fine.  Lord Tyrell you are dismissed.” Aerys had not liked the results anyway.

Willas exhaled relieved and walked out as stately as he could.  His mind a buzz with new thoughts and worries.  Thankful he could retire from this and still had his head.

“Father.” Viserys knew he had to act quickly, Aerys rarely had an open mind. “House Lannister, Arryn and Baratheon are of no use to us in this. The son would be much younger but a son of House Stark. Would be preferable, the Heir’s twin is unbetrothed.”

“I want the heir.”

“House Tyrell currently has the Heir. With Lady Margery.”

“Oh, and my plan to assassinate all The Reach unwed girls has been scrapped so she is still going to be alive to do that. Damn.” Willas’ steps stopped at the mention of Aerys lost plan and the murder of his little sister.

“Firstly, that is a bad plan. Secondly what did The Reach do to you?” Viserys saw he might be the only one of the three men who had that opinion.

“Nothing. Did I mention I saw Rhaenys crying, you know Dorne, and The Reach are enemies?”

“I do not think that means if Rhaenys cries it is the fault of The Reach.” Viserys did not understand the strange directions his father’s mind went in some days. Willas continued his way out, more worried than before, but needing to get his own fresh air, to think straight. 

“He is insane.” Darkstar reminded.

“Edmure Tully is of an age and is the Heir of Riverrun. Otherwise, there is House Greyjoy.” Viserys’ tone said he hated the last name and the look on Aerys and Darkstar’s faces said no.

“We have Seven damn Kingdoms and I have so few Lord Paramounts to gift my beautiful granddaughter to.” Aerys could not believe it.

“Lady Olenna Tyrell has offered her grandson.” Willas, stopped as Viserys spoke those words.

“I had not heard.” Aerys looked at the back of the man that was almost out the door, one more step and he would have not heard that.

“We did not like the offer.” Viserys admitted.

“Of course, it was insulting.” Aerys saw Willas stiffen at the insult.

“To be honest Sir Loras Tyrell is more likely to want Aegon than Rhaenys.” Willas turned quickly, he was not unaware of his brother’s ways, but considering how anti-Rhaenys his grandmother had been with him, he was not impressed she had offered his little brother as a possible husband.

Aerys wonder if the fury on Willas’ face could be converted into any type of real danger, the man was crippled, but he looked like Darkstar when he was furious. So, the Willas boy had been an idiot, and he had hurt the girl, but he loved the girl. Aerys would hate to be Lady Olenna this evening.

Viserys continued as he was not facing the door and imagined with the lack of tapping Willas was gone. “She said if she could give us the elder good son she would, but his wife is with child so she cannot annul the marriage.”

“Who?” Aerys did not know or care about these lower nobles.

“Garlan. His tastes are girls unlike Loras, and he is as smart almost as Willas. He is fine, I have met him, but he is married.”

“Right.” Aerys wondered why Willas was ignored, by his face Willas was wrathful to find he had been passed over.

“Don’t get me wrong I employed Lady Cersei’s aid to try to see why not the eldest, but all we got was he was crippled.  Seems his leg has ruined his entire body.” Darkstar laughed. “I know, it isn’t like all his children would inherit a riding accident in childhood. That is why I was interested to meet the man earlier in person.”

Willas did take his last step out. Aerys thought he should have stayed. “What did you think?”

“Well…”

“There is not a puddle on the floor.” Darkstar looked down. Viserys followed his eyes.

“He was not trembling.” Was Viserys only assessment.

“He would not bend his knee.” Aerys accused.

“He cannot, Father. He has a handicap.”

“I do not like the thought of a man in my realm who cannot bend his knee to me.”

“Then convince Rhaenys to wed a Lord Paramount’s Heir who cannot bend his knee and as your good-grandson he will not be required to, and no one will ever know there is a man who has ever defied the rule to bend before you.”

“That sounds wise.” Aerys looked at Viserys suspiciously.

“I spent near eight years learning from Rhaegar and have read the letters he and Great Uncle Aemon shared, I have absorbed some wisdom.” Viserys bent his head.

“Now.” Darkstar smiled. “How do you convince Rhaenys to marry Willas Tyrell?”

“I am sure if she knew him.” Viserys said with no knowledge to how right he was.

If peace settled over the Red Keep that night, it did not settle over the lodgings of House Tyrell.  Willas limped through to his personal rooms in a fury.  When a servant came to ask if he would be having a meal with his grandmother he refused, not wanting to hinder whatever plans she had.

Soft Loras came to speak to his brother and got a very thorny response. And then some pointed questions about his interests in the city and if he knew about their grandmother’s plans in regard to House Targaryen.

Loras did, he was not happy, like he wanted some cloistered spinster princess, but it was about political power, and he would only need bed her their wedding night their grandmother said and then they could each have their distractions.  He could endure it because it would free him and give him his own cover.

Willas reprimanded his brother for such selfish thoughts and for such insulting ones about a princess he had never met. She could be beautiful and funny and intelligent and kind.  Loras had not right to disregard the woman because he did not know anything about her.

Loras, replied, how wonderous could she be, she was Twenty and never been wooed by any, she was Dornish and though that could mean beautiful it could mean ugly too. If she was so magnificent, why was she of such an age and unwed?  Maybe she was a cripple like Willas, but not by accident but by nature, she was Targaryen. Targaryen came out mutated and twisted sometimes.   Was it not better to marry a son who would not care of her beauty because he had no interest in the feminine form, so who cared if it was repugnant?

Loras skidded out of Willas’ room, as his brother reminded him, he had a bad leg, he was still taller and stronger than him, he just walked with a limp. One weak leg. Not a weakness elsewhere. Willas locked his door and fumed all night. Tomorrow he was going to strip the Queen of Thorns for this insult. Darkstar was right everyone, even his family looked at him and saw only his damaged leg, Rhaenys looked at him and never did, in fact she regularly had to be reminded he had it and always looked so adorably apologetic that she had forgotten.

He also needed to apologise for his harsh tone to the princess tomorrow, he had learnt his misconception: Darkstar was a loyal guard and friend not a beau.  Just like everyone else Willas had been only seeing his weak leg.  As usual Rhaenys had seen none of that and this time she had been hurt by his pain, by him and he needed to be a better person.

He recalled the deep concern the Targaryen men had had for Rhaenys, and her future should she surrender to Prince Oberyn Martell’s plans for her, Willas had his own concerns.  Whatever House Oberyn chose would be immediate catapulted in hierarchy with the inclusion of a Princess of House Targaryen, which meant as Lord of Highgarden he would be seeing that union for the entirety of his life and he wasn’t sure after his tiny tantrum that morning at seeing her smile at another that he could endure that life. After all, said husband would not have only shared smiles and laughter with the princess and what if she were miserable?

Tomorrow Willas needed to be courageous.  To be the strongest version of himself he ever had. Disprove all his naysayers.  Show a crippled leg did not mean a crippled man.

Aerys had a silent breakfast with Elia, Darkstar waited outside the door, and he was told the Ship with the gold for Rhaella was still waiting the tide.  Elia said Rhaenys was having a morning stroll with a Lord who had requested a meeting, Lord Edmure Tully of the Riverlands. Sir Oswell Whent said the boy was an idiot and Rhaenys was already trying to climb the walls, but they let the meeting happen because it stalled Prince Oberyn who had as thought reduced the pool to two and the son of the wealthy Dornish lord who would see The reach invaded, was forerunner.  Rhaenys still protected Willas Tyrell’s name and according to her maid had wept herself to sleep.

Aerys looked left. Not happy Rickard!

Chapter Text

It had all been arranged, without her father’s direct say so – he wanted to make Rhaella wait - Mirza, First Daughter of Wazir, had given the Targaryens the news Jon would be theirs on the morrow, once payment was given. Master Wazir was not impressed, but his daughter was not moved by his anger, citing The Grace was angry and Huy would bring war to his House if he did not get rid of The Champion.  Flames would burn the Harpy if the Dragon was not released.

He reminded his daughter it was a ploy, there was no lost prince and angry king with frozen men.  She reminded him, myth said the emperor came from Ice to reign in Fire, a golden sword on his back; like the one on the shields of The Blades. Direwolves howl to the Goddess Mother Moon as Dragons roar for Father Sun to lead them across the Sky.

“A Dragon cannot be chained, Father.” Mirza attempted to counsel her father to do what was right. “We must let him go.” He still did not like it. “Would you prefer not to receive the payment from the Queen and make no coin?”

“We were hoping for mercy from the Gods.” Wazir knew he must comply.

“This is how we get it.”

Rhaella had her own issue, Aerys had not sent the gold yet, well it had not arrived. How was she to pay?  She could give only one part and it was the part she was most loath to tender, but she would for her grandson and her daughter.  Rhaella could see Daenerys was more than smitten, her girl was in-love, and she must give her what no one gave Rhaella, a chance to be happy.

She knew Geron said he had the gold; his patron would allow her to repay.  Should she take it? Had she already taken too much from the man, if he was Valyri’s husband? Valyri came south for her parents, but stayed for Summerhall at Rhaella’s urging, if she had not stayed, he would have his wife and son and probably many other children and grandchildren.

In the end, Rhaella needed her daughter not to hate her and her grandson to be free of all the trauma his life had soaked in.  She told Geron to bring sixteen thousand Dragons if he had that much, he smiled and said he had sixty if she wanted it, she was somewhat surprised.  Geron did not tell her the true amount of gold Aerion had sent to release Jon, best people not be aware that much gold lay in chests in the sands of Meereen.

He did set to employ some of the excess gold to another task though.  As far as he could discern, Rhaella had agreed to the displaced princess to ‘hitch’ her yacht to their ship.  So Geron paid someone to make sure that was done in the securest way possible, as a thank you for helping them to Meereen from Astapor.

As much as he had said the moment he was claimed, he would propose to the Lady Evelyn, he would not be taking her to King’s Landing, he was sending her home to Winter. Get some of his king’s gold back safe at home; also get the girl home safe.  Remove the distraction of the lovely lady so he could concentrate on Jon and his journey home, he did not imagine it would be any easier after this than before.

Great Master Wazir made a huge show of the end of the transaction.  He sat his seat three steps above his guests and lounged to show he was in control.  Rhaella entered with her retinue and the chests containing the sixteen thousand gold Dragons.  The Other item she kept on her person.  As they looked around, they saw Jon was not here.

“Where is your Champion?” Rhaella asked with flame to her tone. “Soon to be my daughter’s.”

“He has been sent for.  Let us see your payment.” Barristan and Arthur opened the chests so Wazir could see the gold that filled them. “Hmm, do I need get someone to count it?” Mirza glared at her father for the insult to the queen.

“Believe me, I did not swindle you of even one gold Dragon.” Rhaella sneered. “I would take no chance on losing my purchase.” She would not, it was time Jon’s family got to embrace him.  Rhaella had a plan, one that would see her daughter away from any Aegon, she would send Jon home to Winterfell and Daenerys with him.  The North would stand for the Blood of The Starks, by the time the armies of the south got to Winterfell -if they even could – Daenerys would be carrying her second or third child.

Wazir took a deep inbreath, there was no use stalling he indicated that The Champion was to be brought in.  Flanked by two guards the boy entered with a strange gauntlet on his hand garbed again as a fighting slave. With a leather kilt and calf high boots, his arm wrapped in Leather strips and a cotton shirt to cover his torso. He looked resigned to the façade of this game. 

Jon looked sadly at the princess, dressed again for her station, recalling Arthur’s revelation, that even though he was a prince, he could not love the girl.  Wishing to just be a nobody prisoner again, so his impossible chance of finding love with a princess was better than his no chance of love with his father’s sister.

Daenerys did not know why Jon looked so forlorn, he was about to be free and then they would be on a ship to Westeros and hopefully great things after.  Yes, she had woken with the worry for how she would avoid Aegon of Dragonstone and their betrothal, but she would find a way and if Geron was right maybe she could just suggest saving her father from war by a marriage alliance with this angry king’s grandson: Jon.

To Daenerys the little things did not matter, all they needed was Jon to be free and they could then make the next plan after this one was finished. There would be a next plan too, because Daenerys had steel in her spine about this.  Jon was hers and soon all Meereen could testify to that and then no one could ever take him away again. Soon not her father’s cruelty or her mother’s procrastination, nothing would separate them.

“Champion, this woman wishes to purchase you for her daughter.”

“My daughter is purchasing him.” Rhaella corrected; words would be important. Jon looked confounded by the stipulation and its necessity, when he looked at Daenerys she just smiled coyly and blushed.

“Fine.” Wazir growled at the queen. “Champion.”

“Master Wazir.” Jon answered him.

“Princess Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen of Westeros has offered me a paltry sum and a bauble, to be your mistress.  I am loath to agree but must.  With the conclusion of this transaction, you will cease to belong to House Wazir and then belong …”

“Forever.” Daenerys whispered, to get smiles from some attendees.

“… to Princess Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, of The Seven Kingdoms. Do you understand?”

“I underst…”

“I have a counteroffer.” Visenya strode into the room with men carrying chests, which they dropped heavily. Master Wazir sighed happily at the sound of gold-filled chests hitting his floor; his profit may increase.  The Westerosi queen had reduced his payment so terribly he might have wanted to take his chances with the Wrath of the Gods.

“I am happy to hear your offer young lady.” Great Master Wazir said smiling at Lady Visenya. “I have Queen Rhaella’s and Princess Daenerys’. I am willing to consider selling the man to you if your price is better.”

“We had a deal!” Rhaella fumed.

“Yes, but then he was stolen, and I expended men and money to get him back to get your paltry sum.”

“It is not paltry!”

“Also, he did absolutely nothing to get Jon back.” Aegon, the Blue said sideways to Geron.  “I believe, we got him back or more you and Arthur.” Aegon caught Daenerys’ glare. “And Daenerys.” He added quickly.

“So, you promise but I have not seen the gem you offered.”

“What gem did the Targaryen witch offer?” Visenya was curious.  However, she realised Jon was not happy she had insulted the Queen, as he growled in anger at her words.

“The Queen offered me a Dragon egg.”

“A Dragon egg?” All eyes were on Rhaella.

“We have a few unfertilised ones and I offered one that is promised to Daenerys for the payment.” Daenerys was disappointed she lost a Dragon egg but was happy she got Jon in place of it.

“Still, I offer cold hard gold.” Visenya nodded and the men opened the chests. “A great lot of it.” Aegon went to his ‘cousin’, with a confused look and pulled her aside while Great Master Wazir tested her gold.

“What are you doing?” Aegon spoke quietly but strongly into Visenya’s ear.

“Getting myself a crown.” Visenya answered coolly. Rhaella did not deserve to be a queen, so Visenya would be.

“I thought we agreed it would be evil to interfere.”

“Yeah, then I saw how her grace considered him on the wharf, she does not deserve him. He is a toy for her daughter, to her. I will be kinder.”

“Because he is a tool to you.” Aegon was not happy, and his voice spoke volumes about his disgust that Visenya was doing this. “This will hurt Daenerys more.” By the angry and betrayed expression, the princess wore, Aegon worried Visenya might not make it out of the room.  Would Daenerys order Geron to slit Vy’s throat?

“How much do you offer, girl?” Wazir could not tell by looking which had more gold to pay.

“Twenty-five thousand gold.” Aegon looked surprised, so he should she had called in big debts and made even more to get it.

“What just happened?” Jon asked.  He thought it was all sorted before he entered.

“I just bought you.” Visenya grinned.

“Indeed, young lady, yours is the greater offer.”

“Champion.” Wazir turned to Jon.

“Oh, hell no!” Jon responded, he was over this and since Arthur explained who he was, he saw no reason to not act a little more valued by himself.

“Father.” First Daughter hissed, The Grace had been specific, Princess Daenerys and Westeros.

“Business is business, Daughter.” Wazir grinned.

“What do you plan to pay her grace for the insults you paid her and her realm if you are not discounting the sale of the Champion?” Arthur asked angrily.  His prince was so close to freedom, and he was sure Visenya may not have slavery in mind, but he would not be free.

“We can negotiate.” Wazir disregarded the knight, the gold in Visenya’s chests was sing to him.

Arthur pulled his milk white sword from its scabbard. “Let us do that then.” The guards were not as quick as Arthur and Wazir was caused to fall to the floor to escape the swing of his blade.  Things were about to get very messy until Geron stepped up and planted his sword into the tiles with a crack.

“Magic swords, gotta love ‘em.” Geron grinned at everyone. “Now, I have ten thousand gold Dragons to bring the princess’ offer to twenty-six. What can you do Lady Blackfyre?”

“No!” Rhaella commanded. “Not a gold piece over sixteen thousand.” Jon sighed, as usual the queen promised and failed, he shrugged and accepted he would need to convince Visenya to choose another plan.

“I can float you the difference to win the bid.” Geron said with disbelief.

“There is a very specific reason, I named sixteen as the number and that is also the reason it will not change.  Master Wazir will take sixteen as agreed upon.”

“Not if this lovely girl says twenty-five.” Wazir countered from the floor but flinched when Arthur twitched.

“How about not gold pieces but another artefact?” Geron offered. “Something worth a prince’s ransom. A Dragon Prince’s ransom.” His words got every contender curious and stepping back to hear him.

“We will take your offered help if it is not gold.” Rhaella agreed.

“Play nice while I get proof of my pledge.” Geron rushed out of the room.  He had to be quick, he guessed the Blades of Fire were already in the city, if he tarried, Meereen could burn.

An uneasy wait was kept in the audience chamber of the Pyramid of Wazir, a slave woman brought drinks for the people as they awaited the return of the gold knight.  Daenerys recalled her from the Pit on the Battle Day; her flaming hair was the give-away. First Daughter gazed at the slave as her father drank deep of his cup.

“Who are you?” Mirza asked, she did not know this woman.

“She is a slave, Daughter.”

“Not one of ours, Father.”  The woman smiled as eyes came to alight on her. Geron walked in with an item in his hand just as a guard pulled on his sword.

“Shit.” He said as he saw the woman with the drinks. “What’s in the pitcher?”

“Wine.” She answered lightly. “What’s in your hand?”

Geron held up the item, it was the size of a platter, black and shining. “A Dragon scale. I have ten thousand gold worth, to add to Princess Daenerys’ bid.”

“Ten thousand gold worth you say. How do I know how many that is or if your calculations are correct?” Wazir saw opportunity, Dragon scales could be worth a true mint. “I must deliberate on these fine offers after all, Lady Blackfyre offers hard gold, you offer possible excess to hers.  A prudent man would consider his options.”

“Nice try, Lord Commander.” The serving woman said. “Now it is my turn.” She turned and her clothes morphed into a cloaked form. The cloak was black with gold trim and it flowed volumously around her.

“Shit.” Geron sighed and his shoulders dropped in defeat.

“What is happening?” Jon asked the knight.

“I was not quick enough, Meereen is about to burn.” Geron exhaled heavily.

“I am Kasmira, Blade of Fire, which of you is Princess Daenerys Targaryen, the owner of the man known as Jon Snow?”

“I am.” Daenerys stepped forward and so did Jon one step, he was worried for the girl. “Well, I am Princess Daenerys, I am not yet the owner of Jon Snow, as the Master is being recalcitrant in selling him to me, now.” The furrow to Daenerys’ brow said if she had a weapon, Wazir would be in danger.

This Kasmira, reached into her cloak to retrieve a wicked curved and ornately shaped dagger, with a jade lacquer, and strange script. “My lord, and liege wishes to speak to the girl who owns his grandson, the man known as Jon Snow.  This blade will see you travel through the gates of the Fortress unharmed.” She held the blade out for Daenerys to take.

“Fortress? What fortress?” Daenerys did not touch the blade.

“You have a year and a day to present yourself before the King of the Winter Fortress or King Aerion’s wrath will reign down upon you and yours, as his Dragons take to the skies to see his heir returned to him.”

Wazir stared terrified at this woman and her words, he had thought the threat of this king and his grandson a story to cower him. He had his own terrifying tale from The Grace that was cowering him, he did not need the two tales to overlay.

“Take the dagger, princess.” Daenerys took the dagger from the woman’s hands, staring down at it. Once the weapon was out of her hands, the woman walked toward the door, her message given, and her duty done.

Rhaella had to applaud Geron and his play, this ‘Blade of Fire’ sold the story he had been selling brilliantly and it had the desired effect of scaring the Master. She wondered if the Dragon scale was even real or just a fake to facilitate him allowing the woman to do her mummery. She saw how impressed Barristan and Arthur were by how well Geron had set up the room.

As Kasmira got to the door, she turned to give one last instruction. “The Direwolves can guide a path through the Undead. Lord Stark will take his nephew and you safely through.”

“They will not be going alone.” Sir Dayne stepped up beside the lad the woman spoke of. Arthur understood this was no play, this woman was as serious as Geron was about Jon being his patron’s heir.

“Whatever you wish Firebird, but the dagger will only protect the teens from the Dragons of Winter and Ice, you will need to protect yourself.” She said ominously, he was sure under her hood she was smiling.

“I will protect Sir Arthur. He was and has been loyal to Crown Prince Valian.” Geron stepped forward.

“As you wish Lord Commander but be certain for whom you vouch. Remember you lay your honour for a kingsguard of King Aerys. King Aerion may kill you with him for the sins of The Mad King.”

“My king will protect me.” Geron eyes moved to Jon to indicate Jon would protect him, and Arthur too. Honestly Geron would not need vouch for Arthur, Jon would not allow harm to come to the knight.

“It may be the only way to save you.”  She stepped through the door and disappeared as if she had turned to smoke.

“So did any of you want to own Jon now you know Dragons will be visiting you in a year and a day to scorch your world?” Geron said as he turned back to the people in the room.

“Princess you should not take the chance.” Jon said to Daenerys, she looked suitably frightened as she stared at the wicked knife the woman had handed her. The petite silver girl looked up at him with fear in her eyes, but as she stared into his silver eyes, her fear left her.

“I will take this responsibility. For I think your grandfather will only see anyone else as a ploy to gain something. Whereas he will know I gain nothing by doing this. You should finally have a good life Jon, and I will help you get it.” She looked at the Great Master. “But you shall have none of the extras you were offered this day, and I shall not be giving you a Dragon Egg. That shall pay the delay you have cost me, or if you insist, I will show this King Aerion his grandson’s back and tell him the scars were your travesty.”

“They were not! He already bore them!”

“But one definitely was and how are we to know. He will not and I cannot say, after all last time I saw Jon Snow’s back in the Red Keep it was not scarred.” That was true, it was a bloody mess from the thrashing he took to get the scars. “I promise you I will tell him exactly that.”

The Queen looked at her daughter with pride, she would be a fine queen one day, even if the current Aegon was going to be a mediocre king, he would have a great queen at his side. She looked to Elia’s Aegon and wondered what king he would be. Who would reign from the Iron Throne?

“Pay the man Sir Barristan. My daughter and I wish to leave this horrid city forever.” Barristan looked at Master Wazir and watched First Daughter step forward.

“Thank you, Princess Daenerys.” First Daughter spoke. “Champion.”

“First Daughter.” Jon looked at Mirza as she had spoken to him.

“Princess Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen of Westeros has offered us a prince’s ransom for your freedom from our slavery. We have agreed to this. With the conclusion of this transaction, you will cease to belong to House Wazir and then belong forever…” Mirza smiled at Daenerys and Jon, “…more to Princess Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, of The Seven Kingdoms. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” Mirza thought he did not understand fully, for Jon would forever be chained to Princess Daenerys and she to him, with bonds more powerful than any metal.

“Then Princess Daenerys, I thank you for your generous payment and give you this key.” Mirza handed the key to the gauntlet to Daenerys. “Our Champion is now your Champion, he no longer belongs with us, but belongs with you. He has seen this transfer and understands as has everyone in this room stood to bear witness, may the Gods bless you in the wars and days ahead.”

“Thank you.” Daenerys bowed her head to First Daughter.

“Some advice.” First Daughter offered.

“Oh, alright.” Daenerys had not expected more.

“Run. Far and fast. Go now and do not look back.” First Daughter smiled at the princess.

Jon sat below the deck of the Targaryen ship that would take him home to Westeros, staring as his encased hand. He was not sure when they planned to actually free him but what did it matter, he had no plans for the future. He would be returning to walk away, Daenerys need not endanger herself for him, he would go alone, well alone with Geron and Ghost.

He closed his eyes, emotionally raw from all he had learnt and felt of late. He heard her light footfalls, eagerly approaching where he sat. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the princess and frowned for himself. He needed to take a step back from her if Arthur had told him the truth, and Arthur had no reason to lie to him. The man may omit but he had not lied.

“Jon.” She knelt beside him, her voice full of excitement.

“Princess.” Jon tried to smile. He looked at the dagger in her belt the one the strange woman said would be their passage through the dead men. He set his mind to determined, he would not be a relative who took from her, let that be the Aegons, not him. He would free her.

She pulled a gold key out of her pocket and laid it in her hand for him to see. “Freedom, Jon. Freedom, you will finally be free.” She stretched out her left hand for him to lay his gauntleted right hand in it.

Jon did as she wished, knowing freedom would never truly be his, for he had let the girl too close to his heart and now it was chained to her, and though she may have the key, she would never unlock those chains, for after they got to Kings Landing she would go into the Red Keep and he would go find Ghost and head north to find this man who was not his grandfather and tell him to forgive the south for hurting and lying to him.

This king could punish Jon for the deceit but please if he could not hurt the girl. Jon was used to being punished, but Daenerys deserved to be safe. Egg would keep her safe, he would ask Egg to keep her safe. He saw the reason for his imprisonment, to keep Aegon’s claim safe, that would be done if Jon disappeared beyond The Wall and never returned. He thought he may enjoy the climate being cold, not just his existence.

Daenerys placed the key in the lock and looked up to smile exuberantly before she turned it. Jon seemed subdued, but she thought, he just needed to believe, freedom was his. “I remove the last manacle you will ever wear.” With a turn the gauntlet split and came away from his hand. “Jon you are finally free, forever free.” She breathed with more hope than Jon believed anyone could have.

“Aye. Free.”

“You could look happier.” She nudged his arm. Then she worried for his response of a half-snort and a shrug. “Jon, why aren’t you happy?”

“So, I am free. What does that even mean? I have never been free. I also don’t know if anyone is truly free.”

“Well, you are. I made sure.”

“I am thankful, really. As I said what does that even mean? How does that change my life, I still have nothing and am no one?” Well, not no one, just someone he did not wish to be.

“That is not true.” She stated stubbornly. “We will recuperate a short while then head for The North and Winterfell. Robb Stark is my almost friend and he can convince his father Lord Stark to let us stay a few days then we will go to my Great Uncle Aemon in The Watch. Then through the gates into the lands beyond The Wall, then we will get you to your grandfather and you will be his family.”

“He isn’t my grandfather.”

“Do not be so pessimistic. He could be and would that not be lovely?” Daenerys’ eyes shined with the possibility, because if Jon were this man’s grandson, maybe just maybe the Old Gods or whatever would allow Daenerys to stay with Jon.

“It would be.” So, he was not another son of Rhaegar and a bane to her life.

Aegon, the Blue must have a silver tongue as well as his coloured hair because somehow, he convinced the queen to still take Lady Blackfyre to Westeros with them, even after her debacle with trying to outbid them for Jon. Except it was not all Aegon, half of it was Jon, Arthur had said Jon thought Visenya his friend, and had seen her attempt to buy him as a way of saving him from returning to Aerys tortures. It was not a complete lie and Arthur was sure Visenya had only done it because she did not trust Rhaella’s concern for Jon; Arthur understood.

Daenerys however was not as experienced, so Visenya found herself bailed up against a wall the first day after their departure, angry amethyst eyes burning into her. “You try anything to steal Jon and I will take this knife the Fire Blade woman gave me and sink it hilt deep into your chest. Then to make it hurt like your little stunt hurt me, I will twist it to make you scream like I wanted to.”

Visenya was a bit surprised by the venom in the princess’ tone, Egg said Daenerys was dedicated and Visenya had seen she was smitten, but this was more than the Blackfyre girl had expected. “I have no quarrel with you.”

“I have quarrel with you. You tried to steal Jon from me.” Daenerys’ eyes were hard as the gemstones they resembled. “You tried to buy him out from under me, for your ‘plans,’ whatever they are. You cannot have him.”

Visenya moved Daenerys back from her because the other girl had no training and Visenya did. “I was not trying to steal him from you. I was outbidding your mother.” Visenya saw Daenerys relax a little. “You, I understood wanted Jon free and safe and all those good things. Admit it though, your mother was not dedicated as you. I did not want to take the chance my friend was left in chains, if she dallied again in his purchase.”

All anger left Daenerys; she could understand that she had refused to speak to her mother due to her procrastination of not ensuring negotiations proceeded in their absence. Jon was in chains and a slave at least a complete day longer than he needed to be. He should never have been made to wear a manacle again after they were removed before Astapor.

“I was willing to renege and leave Jon to you, but not her.”

“I was the one buying him.”

“No, it was your name, she still held the purse strings.” Visenya reminded the princess. “Geron offered her gold to sate the Great Master and she refused to pay one piece over sixteen thousand. Your mother would have forfeited him for whatever her point was. Jon would have been in chains for more days, made to fight in the Pits again, possibly to die, because she was set on sixteen and not a gold more.”

Daenerys looked wounded at the thought. Visenya was right, her mother had not put Jon’s freedom first. Daenerys knew her mother wanted Jon free, loved him greatly but her method was not equal to her spoken of desire. Had years as her father’s wife affected her mother so terribly, was she the Mad Queen? Few would blame her.

“Obviously, if you were in control of the purse, I would have had no concern. I have seen your care for Jon; I know you would have made should his shackles were gone.” In fact, Visenya would not have dared to get in Daenerys’ way, especially after this little threat.

Daenerys frowned. “It doesn’t matter much. Jon seems sullen and distant. I thought he would be happier to be free.”

“Why?” Visenya understood Jon might not see the rosy future everyone thought he should. “He knows how to be imprisoned; he does not know how to be free.”

“I tried to give him hope, that if his grandfather, this King Aerion…” Daenerys took a breath in, and hope came to her eye.

“You are aware there is a chance Jon is the son of …” Visenya did not wish to destroy Daenerys’ world, but she might have to. “Not that the chance would change anything for you but for Jon. Did you know there is a chance…”

“Rhaegar?” Daenerys said and Visenya exhaled relieved she would not be shattering the princess’ world. “Geron says, Rhaegar was not my parents’ son but a stolen prince from this man I am taking Jon to. What does it matter as you say to me? I have been told I will marry my brother Viserys or my nephew Aegon all my life. Jon might just be a nephew that won’t make me miserable to marry.”

“Except, I have heard Aegon of Dragonstone is not as good as Egg of Elia and Egg is definitely not Jon of Snow.”

“Jon of Snow?” Daenerys smiled at Visenya and her term.

“The other two had somewhere they belonged to, so I made Jon belong somewhere too. Should I have said, Jon of Daenerys?” Visenya grinned at the princess to see her blush.

“That would be nice.”

“I suppose you did just pay sixteen thousand gold to take him home and cuddle him forever.”

“I did.” Daenerys said firmly. “So, eyes and hands off.”

“He is standoffish?” Visenya however thought to the princess’ problem. She got a nod. “The boy is smart he might have made some informational additions and concluded he is a Targaryen. He may feel you are restricted. Even if not Rhaegar, won’t Aerion be very angry and unlikely to allow a marriage to broker peace?  The Blade woman said Arthur may be killed for your father’s sins. Jon might think it means no chance of a future between you and to save you heartache he is backing off.”

“How do I stop him doing that?”

“How do you usually get boys to do things you want?”

“I don’t. Jon is the only boy I have ever cared to share a room with. Cared to have anything to do with. Boys annoy me.”

Visenya smiled at how absolutely adorable these two were. “Well, he is quite taken with you too, princess. My suggestion is kiss him. Just make him admit and give into his adoration of you, because he does, adore you. I mean what boy falls in-love with a girl’s scent first?” Visenya shook her head, it was pathetic, and lovely.

“Only the greatest boy in the world.” Daenerys blushed.

“See, you have to kiss him and make him all yours, which he already is in his heart.” Visenya looked at the princess, realising if Daenerys had so little to do with boys, maybe asking her to rush forward was too bold. “Just do not let him out of your influence, stay close and part of his life. Let him know you are not going anywhere. Eventually Jon will have to see, you care as much for him as he does for you, and it could be.”

“Thank you. Still, don’t target my boy.” She growled.

“Alright.” Visenya chuckled. “Could you answer a query though? What is with sixteen?”

“I don’t know, but I think I will ask.” Daenerys left to seek her mother and then her beloved Black Cell Boy.

Queen Rhaella was feeling her age. This excitement was a little too much for her and it had so nearly been a failure. She had sent word to Aerys that ten thousand of the gold needed to be sent to Eastwatch by The Sea, Geron said a ship would be there to take the payment of what King Aerion had floated for the payment to free Jon. She hoped her husband did as she asked, they did not need more issue with this man.

Aerion… The name seemed familiar and not just because it was Targaryen and other Targaryens had worn it. Was it something Valyri said?

Aerys, Aerie. South and North. Two Dragon Queens, two Dragon Kings seems so close but so vastly different.

No, she had heard the name before that and not as a shortening, as the full name, not as a king but as a prince. The voice that spoke it was not the high bright voice of Valyri, but the deep timbre of Rickard and he did not know he would be heard when he spoke it.

Perhaps, Prince Aerion should be more careful, so far from home and his Dragonguard.

Why would Rickard be speaking of a Dragon Prince? Rhaella tended to be ‘around’ wherever Rickard Stark was in those days and sometimes that saw her in adjacent places to the young man when he thought he was alone, or only with his friend Bonifer Tarry. Usually, Rickard and Bonifer did not speak too much of true meaning around others, and many would have been unaware of how close the two young men were. But Rhaella was supposed to be enamoured with Bonifer so, she got a different view to others.

Did Rickard know this, Aerion? Did Rickard introduce her cousin, Valyri to Prince Aerion? Rhaella found all this too tiring to even contemplate. Strange it was she just wished to get home to Kings Landing and the insanity of Aerys, at lest to some degree she had after all these years got somewhat of a handle on that.

Fate was not to give her peace however, as Daenerys walked into her mother’s rooms with an expression that said she had a subject that required attention. Daenerys had always been a sweet child; she had always been stubborn too. A girl who mostly knew her own mind, the only hiccup to that was a dark-haired boy hidden in the depths of their Keep. Which was peculiar as Daenerys had ever rolled her eyes and turned her face from boys before she started seeking Jon in his dungeon.

“Darling daughter.”

“Why sixteen?”

“I beg your pardon.” Rhaella understood Daenerys was getting straight to her point, she was much like Aerys in that, no time for trivia.

“Not a piece over sixteen. We could have lost Jon, why sixteen?” Daenerys glared at her mother.

“Do not give me that look, young lady.” Rhaella had not seen so much rebellion in her girl, ever. She had no idea where she learnt it, not from either of her parents, and she did not know Rhaegar to have learnt it from him. Also, Rhaegar was very compliant until he had to give up the only thing he would die for, Lyanna.

She saw Daenerys waver, she wanted to be rebellious, but she was too respectful and loved her mother, her life had not suffered harshness to toughen her hide. So, Daenerys employed what she knew would work, softness and vulnerability. “We nearly lost him mother; he could have been lost in the pits. I may never have seen him again.” Daenerys touched her mother’s heart with her plea. Rhaella knew what it was like to lose a Direwolf boy and never see him again.

“I would have found a way to still have him. I could not pay a coin more. It was the principle.”

“What principle was worth Jon’s freedom?”

“Daenerys, sixteen years ago Rhaegar died in the real version of that farce of a battle Wazir played out that Jon could have died in. Slain by a man who did not even care for the prize he proclaimed he slayed my son for. Robert was already in talks with Tywin Lannister through Jon Arryn to marry Cersei and make her queen before he met Rhaegar on the Trident.

“Sixteen years ago, your father killed my best friend by boiling him alive in his armour because he was the only honourable lord in the realm, courageous enough to meet his king as an equal. Willing to see a peaceful resolution and not bathe the realm in blood.

“Sixteen years ago, your father’s madness went into override and as much as I hate to say it he perpetrated evil upon me, but at least I gained you from it.  Then within that same year I nearly died bringing the little miracle you were to life.

“Sixteen years ago, Lyanna Stark died in a bed of roses and blood…” Rhaella stopped dare she say Jon’s truth? Dare she tell Daenerys the tale of Jon’s paternity?

“Birthing Jon, as Rhaegar’s last heir.” Daenerys thought she would free her mother of the burden of informing her. When Rhaella’s head snapped up to stare shocked at her daughter, she shrugged. “Sir Whitehaven said Lord Stark always said Father was mad not stupid, I am not stupid Mother. I inherited my father’s intelligence. I mean he knew Lord Tywin was not at the gates sixteen years ago to save the city.”

Rhaella smiled. “Yes, that too happened sixteen years ago. For sixteen years Jon lived in a hole. I tried, I did, to give some light, but I failed so miserably. So shamefully. For the sixteenth anniversary of his father’s death Jon received sixteen lashes, sixteen strikes and sixteen cuts; we will never forget that day for it is forever written on Jon’s skin. Then for his sixteenth nameday, he was sold into slavery. It was only right that cursed number be his salvation. Not a coin more, because he should suffer not one part more. It stops at sixteen.”

“Alright mother.” Daenerys said softly as she came forward to embrace her distraught mother.

“Daenerys, my darling child the things that boy endured before he should have endured anything.” A daughter does not usually hold their mother when she collapses but this day it was all Daenerys could do for hers.

“You need to tell Jon, so he understands. He has not had much light to illuminate the good of people’s actions and reasons. It is how to start bringing him that light you wished.”

Mostly the voyage back to Westeros was uneventful, Jon got to see the sea which was beautiful and everyday he could gaze up at the sky as much and for as long as he liked which was euphoric. He could not wait to get back to the Red Keep and tell Balerion all about it and Ghost all about his adventures, and really just to see them both again.

He found Daenerys attempted to spend as much time as she could with him, and his friendships with Geron, Egg and Visenya deepened as they all left the stresses of life on land behind for a while. Geron had arranged for Nicholas Stark to accompany them and not go north with the rest of his company, and it was strange and a bit comforting to see Arthur as an uncle as Nicholas brought that side out of the knight.

Jon had needed to have an audience with the queen, she had requested it, he had not wanted to, but Arthur had agreed to accompany him, so he went. Queen Rhaella had explained herself, had told him who he was, and kept calling him Aemon. Jon had looked to Arthur to get a shrug.

He may forgive her after hearing her pain and reason, but he would not forget so easily. She spoke of the pain of everything that befell him over his sixteen years and how she was powerless to do much. He did not really wish to hear it. It had happened to him, yet she wanted sympathy for having watched it. He gave it to her, so she felt better, he would heal him nothing for her to sting.

Before he left, he did let his curiosity overcome him though. “Your grace, may I ask something that confuses me?” He might have just asked Arthur later if he indicated he understood it.

“Of course, Aemon, you are my grandson.”

“Yeah, see that is just it. What is with the Aemon reference?”

“Aerys has some belief Lyanna called you Aegon, but I think as Elia already had an Aegon, Lyanna would not have. I think she might have chosen another Targaryen name and well, you always seemed like an Aemon to me. They were always the better brothers. The Dragonknight and the Maester. So, because we do not know what your mother called you, well, I call you Aemon.”

“Except Arthur does know what my mother called me.” Jon looked at the knight who had always been at his side.

“So, he does.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the kingsguard.

“So, I do.” He said without guilt for keeping his secret.

“Why have you or the king never just commanded him to tell you?” Jan asked.

“Because Aerys has, even threatened to burn him alive, have him beheaded and striped of his knighthood.”

“How? What? Why?” Jon did not know what to ask first.

“What do I care for being a kingsguard or a knight, I will always be Sword of The Morning. I serve to protect Rhaegar’s will, and I would gladly die for my Prince. Let Aerys try to touch me.”

“I would miss you.” Jon said with a pain to his tone.

“I have survived his threats so far.” Arthur’s eyes softened for his current prince, he loved this boy and would die for him too. “Also, it is your name, no one else has a right to it.”

“That you would miss him is why Aerys has not enacted any of his threats. I believe Jon, my Aemon, that Sir Arthur is Aerys’ gift to you.” The Queen thought it the only explanation.

“I suppose it means I can no longer say he never did anything for me.” Jon smiled as he left the room. If Sir Arthur were Aerys’ gift to him then Jon would be thankful because he did appreciate Arthur in his life a great lot.

As the wharf of King’s Landing came into view, the mood on the ship shifted, for no one knew what awaited them in the city and its Keep. Daenerys had to face her betrothed; Rhaella her husband; Egg his family and Jon his freedom. Then under the deck was a very worried Essosi princess, not sure what this foreign land would give her as a future.

Chapter Text

Lady Olenna Tyrell was famous for her political nous and her thorned wit.  Many wished not to engage her in conversation, worried of being caught on her thorns and in verbal traps. Some in the realm said she was as dangerous to meddle with as The Mad King himself.  She liked her notarioty, once she had presented a face of naivity, but that façade had been pushed away when she had to protect The Reach and House Tyrell.  She took some joy knowing even Tywin Lannister was loath to make an enemy of her.

All that being said, Olenna was about to learn a lesson in being vigilant, today. It was breakfast, and she was in King’s Landing, with her grandchildren and her son.  She was on an expedition to find her grandchildren spouses, Margery and Loras were willing to assess her options with her.  Lucky it was that Mace had sent Willas to petition to the king on the The Reach’s behalf, because Willas had found a lovely villa to rent and negotiated a low price for it.  Olenna was glad Mace had made one good decision in his life.

Now, technically Margery was promised to the Heir of Winterfell, but Olenna wanted more for Margery than a backward kingdom of barely cultivated men. She had heard many good things about Robb Stark and that was why she had made this match, in the event Margery could not land a Prince, a Crowned Prince.  People said Robb Stark was handsome and smart, but they had not met the lad so, they could say he was a god – it didn’t make him one.

Though it was not like Mace really made the decision by intelligence, he had made it in fear. Aerys found Mace infuriating to talk to or deal with and Mace had annoyed the mad sovereign to start hating her House.  It would be grand for House Tyrell if she could hook a royal spouse. It had been an impossibility until Aerys opened the cage of Princess Rhaenys.  He may just allow Prince Aegon out to walk around, and if he did Margery was close at hand to catch his eye.

Apparently Aegon had an eye to be caught, it was no secret although he desired to keep his betrothal to Princess Daenerys, the young man was happy to wander afield to sate his desires.  He was well known on Silk Street; some gossip whisperers spoke of the possibility the Prince of Dragonstone had been gifted his sister’s maidenhead.  Already he was sharing some nights with Arianne Martell.  Olenna wondered to Prince Viserys’ opinion on that idea, Arianne was his betrothed.

Regardless, Olenna had sent Mace to offer the wealth of The Reach’s basket to the throne in exchange for Princess Rhaenys’ hand.  Mace had stuck to script and Aerys was contemplating.  They may have been able to secure it, if Willas had spoken for the idea to the king, but as she had forbidden Willas answering the Princess’ invitation when she sent them to the many houses of the realm with eligible sons. Olenna doubted he would understand the duality of the situation, sometimes Olenna wondered where Willas had gotten his honourable streak from, he had never known his Great-Uncle Jakob.

The thought of Jakob made Olenna sigh, died before his time, but after she had run from her rat-faced Targaryen groom-to-be, and she was left with only his simpleton brother for a groom. She may not have had to be the Queen of Thorns if Jakob had lived.  He was as intelligent as her husband was stupid.  Jakob would not have ridden his horse off a cliff; Mace may have been smarter too.

Loras arrived at her table first, sporting a fat lip and a black-eye.  “What happened to you?” Why today? “Margery you will need cover the eye and try to do your best with that lip.” She told her approaching granddaughter.

“Did he get a bit rough last night brother?” Margery asked with a smile. Loras did not answer for he did not wish to explain, this was not a lover getting rambucious, it was Willas getting enraged.

“You must go with Loras today, Margery, dress to catch Prince Aegon’s roving eye.”

“Will Prince Aegon even be there? He is not glued to his sister, to meet all her suitors.” Margery imagined Aegon would not be following his sister around, he was to be king one day, he had better things to do.

“A brother would protect his sister and wish to meet those that could soon be related to him.” Willas was a prime example, he tried to meet all his siblings’ potential other halves.  Which made Olenna think Garlan must have told Willas of his marriage plans and Willas had not told her.  Olenna should ensure Willas was on the same page as her with this.

Willas entered the room and Margery saw Loras flinch. She wondered why Loras would do that. Willas was the stable elder of the family, a true heir to their grandmother’s intelligence.  Willas was the one who would sort out any political faux pars his siblings made, blunten their grandmother’s thorns and sharpen their father’s words.  If he was a girl Willas would be only a step away from being queen. He wasn’t a girl so Margery would need be the child that secured that position.

Loras kept his eyes on his plate as Willas grabbed his and went to eat it elsewhere.  Margery glanced at her grandmother to see she also saw there was something happening with her eldest brother.  Margery had never seen Willas angry, but he was obviously not happy with something. As he walked out as stiff as he walked in Margery decided to discover the root of this mystery.

“Willas, are you not eating with us as usual?” She asked as she took what food she wished to fill her plate.

“No.” Came a gruff answer.

“Can I come eat with you?” Margery did not like this change in her brother. He stopped as he contemplated his answer.

“You may.” He said softer. Margery picked up her plate and headed off after Willas, she did not need to rush, her brother could not sprint.  As she caught up to him, she wondered what he had been like before his accident, he had always hobbled in her experience, but knew that was not his experience, once Willas had run.

“So, your face.” Olenna asked her only remaining family member.

“I tangled with a bramble patch I did not see coming.” Loras pictured the rage he had seen in Willas’ eyes the night previous. “Where is Father?”

“Oh, he was feeling … He is ill.” Olenna sighed at how lucky she was that her grandchildren were not like their father.  Maybe Mace needed to ride off a cliff so Willas could be Lord of The Reach. Olenna thought on how she could facilitate that, with his father he had done it of his own stupidity, Mace was weak hearted, in that he would baulk at the edge, ruining her House plans.

Margery watched Willas chew his food as if it were his enemy’s intestines.  Not with satisfaction but with determination to see them suffer. She had never seen Willas so angry, his eyes so hard.  Willas had always been her rock of compassion, he was just as thorny intellectually as their grandmother, but he usually tried to be kinder than Lady Olenna tended to be.

“Willas, what is on your mind?”

“Nothing.” He lied.

“Somehow I don’t believe you.” She knew better.

Willas turned to gaze at her and was quiet for a long period. “Margery, my rose of a little sister.”

“Willas, my bramble of a big brother.” Brambles were dangerous to enter and complex to understand as the branches went everywhere with long catching thorns.  Her brother was a mental bramble, and she was sure if not for his leg he would have been as fine a knight as Garlan. She chose Garlan to affiliate rather than Loras because Loras was the Knight of Flowers, a champion Jouster. She felt Willas would not use a blunted tourney lance but one with a blade.

“When you look at me what do you see?” Was Darkstar correct was he just a walking stick to his family.

“What do you want me to see?” She saw a handsome lord, with a straight back and a sharp eye.

“This is about what you see. What do you see?”

“You Willas, I see you, as you have always been.”

“Do you think I am broken?”

“Are you asking about your leg?” It was difficult because his leg and his cane were the first things people could see about him. Margery knew there was so much more to her brother than his disability, but most others did not care to dig deeper.

“Is that all people, see? I have to be lacking because I have a …”

“Wonky leg?”

“Yeah, is it what everyone sees?”

“I don’t know.” She didn’t. “Does it matter? One day a girl will come along who will look at you and not even see it.” Willas looked away in pain, he had met such a girl and he was now in a difficult position. “I believe she is out there. Just be patient Willas.” Margery squeezed his arm, to comfort him.

“Someone told me yesterday everyone sees me as a crippled even my family. I wonder if that is true.”

“It isn’t.” Margery sat back and stared at him with anger in her eyes not for Willas but about him. “Willas you are the smartest of all of us.”

“I could have no legs at all and still be smart, Margy.” His little sister was known as the Rose of Highgarden, and she was that beautiful of both face and heart.

“But you have two legs, one just goes off in its own direction.” She smiled at him. “So smart is my big brother that his leg has its own mind, and that makes him even smarter than the rest of us.”

Willas could not help smiling at her, Margery had a kind heart.  He knew she had no memory of him whole so loved him just as he was and thought no more about how he was different because to her he was just Willas. “Thank you.” He gave her a smile of gratitude. “I think others in the family are not so kind.”

“Forget them. Father is stupid, mother would never even think about it, Garlan does not see any fault in his big brother, Loras is … a wonderful man but he does live in a special little world of his own and I, well, I hope to man I wed is as much like you as possible.”

“Grandmother?”

“She is proud of you. She however is…”

“Ashamed of my defect.”

“No.” Margery’s eyes softened. “She hates that you have this defect as you say. Let us face facts, she is always scheming, and she does not want people to look at you and see…”

“A cripple.”

“Maybe she wants people to know your mind first, and not hurt your feelings.”

“Oh, Margery.” He laughed quietly as he shook head. “Grandmother only cares how my leg will make people see a defect in House Tyrell. She likes all her perfect grandchildren.”

“She still loves you.”

“Well, today that is not good enough.” Willas’ eyes went hard again as he recalled how his grandmother told him she would disown him if he replied to that ‘one-step from Dornish Princess’; the same grandmother who had offered his little brother as a groom to that princess. Rhaenys was Willas’ friend and she deserved better than Loras.

“What is different about today?” Margery asked worried.

“I had an audience with King Aerys last night.”

“Why?”

“I was somewhere that an event occurred that he wanted information about.  He had me hauled in by guards. He was very angry.”

“Willas, did he harm you?” Margery looked him over to see if she could see any injury.

“No.”  Willas patted her hand to reassure her. “I just do not think his grace will be happy if he finds Loras has other attractions.  He seems far more protective of his granddaughter than anyone believes.”

“How would he know before the wedding and then they would be in Highgarden, and he will never know?”

I would happily tell him, because the idea disrespects Rhaenys. “Highgarden?”

“Well, it isn’t like Loras would leave Highgarden after he is wed.  He would stay home.”

Oh, Hells no! Willas could not bear that.  The princess in his castle married to his brother and miserable. Willas had found yesterday, seeing the princess with Sir Gerold Dayne disturbing and painful as he thought with the ease of their interaction the princess had found her groom. Why am I referring to her as the princess? Because she had asked him to call her Rhaenys and he was intelligent and self-aware enough to know his head was trying to save a different part of him.

“We are having a quick introduction, arranged by Lady Cersei Martell, as she has convinced Princess Elia to host an afternoon tea for the various suitors to meet Princess Rhaenys in person. Granny says it is so House Martell can say they did not restrict her choices to Dornish men. However, that is in a couple of days time. We have an appointment to be introduced formally as a House Paramount of the realm.”

“We?”  Was his whole family involved in this insult?  Of course, they were because his grandmother was the ruler of House Tyrell, and she did not want her crippled grandson lowering her House’s value.

“Well, Loras and I am accompanying him. Granny thinks it may give opportunity to meet Crown Prince Aegon.  I doubt he follows his sister around.” Margery doubted Aegon would especially as suitors were not girls.

“He doesn’t.” Willas had never even met Prince Aegon. Though he had only seen Rhaenys thrice.

“As Granny says he could wish to protect his sister from unsavoury suitors.” Margery didn’t believe it, but she would not take the chance.

“Right, were they, her words?” Willas growled.

Margery did not know what had gotten into Willas today. “They were.”  She looked at this strange state her brother was in. “Willas.” She leaned in towards him in concern.

“You had best go get ready and try to cover Loras’ injuries.” Willas stood quickly and set his cane to solid footing.  He needed to get away from these people.  Even Margery’s naïve adherence to their grandmother’s plans.  Unsavoury suitors? We are offering one.

“Lord Loras and Lady Margery of House Tyrell.” Margery had done her grandmother’s bidding and covered Loras’ injuries well.  They were led into a garden with a Pavilion that oversaw the bay.  Princesses Elia and Rhaenys sat at a table in the pavilion with Princess Cersei of Dorne and another Dornish girl. Both Tyrells had been counselled not to refer to Cersei as Princess as she preferred to be called Lady.  Cersei’s daughter sat with her cousin, as golden as her mother.

“Welcome.” Princess Elia said and waved a hand to tell them to sit.

“Third son?” Cersei whispered with a raised eyebrow to Elia.

“House Tyrell needs a boot in their arse.” Darkstar said to the lady in agreement.

Princess Rhaenys had initially looked happy as they entered but her face soon dropped to an expression of disappointment. The Dornish knight went to stand behind the princess to let her know she was not alone, for he knew her expectation had been a different son of House Tyrell.  He saw his sister pull back the tear as she turned her head slightly so only, he could see the water in her eye.  When she turned back, she was a Dragon Princess.

Margery saw Loras had a great battle to win this princess, she was not moved by his good looks.  Most girls would blush and giggle over Loras due to his handsome face, seemed Rhaenys’ cloistering had given her a different view.

Loras stepped forward reaching out his hand so Rhaenys might take it so he could kiss the back of hers.  The princess did not offer her hand or take Loras’ and her eyes were not softened to the knight Loras was.  The Dornish knight behind her was staring hard sapphires at Loras and his jaw told the other knight to step back.

“Please sit, so we may speak.” Elia asked cordially.

“Thank you, we are honoured to be asked to meet you before the afternoon tea that is arranged, which of course we are thrilled to attend.” Margery spoke first, as Loras seemed takeback that his face alone had not turned Rhaenys to jelly like many girls before her.

“Why?” They heard a male voice ask as the man entered behind them.  Seems Lady Olenna was correct, Prince Aegon was attending.

“Because as a senior to you royal, I said so.” Prince Viserys snarled back at the Crown Prince.

“Cousin Aegon!” Jo’Hannah rose to approach the prince, making the previous annoyed expression melt away as he embraced his golden cousin.  He looked up surprised by the attendance, wondering what Arianne was doing here and why Tyrell had brought his sister. Aegon may appreciate the sight of the girl, she was a lovely flower but a strange attendee.

“Father says he will be a few minutes, just finishing a matter in court.” Viserys said as he awkwardly kissed his betrothed and affectionately repeated the action with his niece. “Sit down Aegon.” 

“King Aerys is attending?” Elia had been unaware of that; he had not been in attendance when Rhaenys had met the delegation from House Baratheon.

“Yes. He said he was grabbing another two attendees so we will require more chairs.” Viserys had no real idea what his father was up to, but the old man had insisted he would see what House Tyrell was offering.

“We feel so honoured to see the king as well.” Margery adapted faster than Loras.

“Careful what you wish for Lady Margery.” Darkstar warned as he moved slightly as Viserys took his seat and moved it between Rhaenys and Princess Arianne.

“I was not expecting you to attendee my betrothed.” He guessed his betrothed was a spy for Oberyn and her father.

“Anyone for some wine.” Aegon offered everyone as this - whatever it was - had begun to feel stiff.  As he poured everyone wine and passed them their goblets, he noted that Lady Margery had not taken her eyes off him since he came into view; smiling to himself he thought maybe attending was not a bad idea after all.

Light chatter began and Loras showered Rhaenys with compliments and spoke of his beautiful castle.  The tension started to abate when Loras was posed a direct question by the princess he was attempting to woo.

“You are a third son, how is it your castle Lord Loras? Would Highgarden not be your eldest brother’s castle? What was his name?” She turned to Darkstar as she knew he would play her game. He shrugged as if he could not remember.

“Willas.” Viserys answered.  When Rhaenys looked at him with question to his knowledge, though of course he should know. “I met him last night, when Father was threatening to have Lady Margery behead and her head brought to him. It was Lady Margery wasn’t it, Sir Dayne.”

“Yes, but it was every young woman in The Reach, not just Lady Margery, she was just the one he would demand died first.” Darkstar recounted to the shock of all at the table.

“Lucky you are Lady Margery that your eldest brother was there to re-energise the king’s faith in The Reach.” Viserys thought his father may have more issue with them after he arrived to see Rhaenys was only worthy of a third son in House Tyrell’s opinion.

Right on time King Aerys wandered into the garden with his Lord Commander and two other men.  By their garb they were northerners, by their heraldry they were House Stark.  The younger was only of an age with the travelling Daenerys, maybe a few months older.

“Lord Stark, this is my granddaughter Rhaenys.” The king indicated the princess. “What do you think?” He asked the younger man.

“Very beautiful.” He responded with a bow to the princess, unlike Loras this young lord got a smile from the princess.

“Which one are you again?”  The king looked at the lad.

“Robb.” Suddenly Margery’s eyes left Aegon, Robb, this young man was her yet unmet betrothed.  She glanced over him and was impressed with him, tall and dark of hair and he was growing a beard Loras had tried and failed to achieve. His shoulders were broad, but his muscles seemed long rather than thick.  Had her grandmother met this boy before setting her to catch Aegon instead?  She might just wish to keep the current husband-to-be.  She saw Loras also liked the look of the lad.

“Named for the Usurper.” Aerys sneered at the lad, who did not look scared by the mad king.

“Yes, but not part of his rebellion.” Robb smiled a wolfish grin. Margery smirked at his intelligence to go with his appearance.

“Why are we here your grace?” Lord Stark asked with a growl.

“Where is his twin?” He pointed at Robb. Aerys noted Robb was getting appreciative looks from all the young ladies. He was not surprised he had been told the young wolf had female hearts fluttering from the Neck to the Wall.

“Across the sea earning himself a name.” Lord Stark stated shortly.  He owed Aerys nothing, the man had never let Jon come home, and now he had sent him to Essos instead of allowing the lad to have a family.  Robb and Nicholas had some connection being twins and Robb had informed his father Jon was enslaved.  Aerys was lucky Eddard hadn’t slit his throat for that.

Cersei leaned into her daughter’s ear. “What did I tell you? Marry a Stark.” Jo’Hannah just nodded with her mother’s wisdom, this Robb Stark was very lovely to behold.  Loras Tyrell was famous for his good looks, and he deserved it, but he somehow looked soft in his handsomeness, where as this Robb looked wild in his. Cersei smiled at her daughter. “Lord Stark, you have a younger son do you not?”

Lord Eddard looked confused at the golden lady. “Yes, Brandon.”

“Is he like you or his namesake.” Cersei did not want a Brandon Stark like this lord’s brother.

“In what way?” What was this lady asking of him?  Lady Cersei was and had always been a mystery to him even at Harrenhall, so many years ago.

“Do you think he will be a hound?” Cersei like the way Lord Eddard found her confounding.  See her father should have stopped pursuing Rhaegar after he married and started looking elsewhere, like Winterfell.  Obviously not Brandon, let Catelyn Tully survive that mess of a man.

“No, Lady Cersei. My brother will be his father’s son, as all of us are.” Robb understood his father would find the question offensive, but Robb had been raised by his mother as well and Ashara Dayne had taught him that ladies with daughters are hunting for husbands for those daughters.  Princess Jo’Hannah was a pretty girl, one day Bran would be looking for a pretty girl instead of his next adventure.

“Good to know.” Cersei smiled, giving Lord Eddard an assessing glance and her daughter a pat on the hand.  Robb would laugh at how disturbed his father appeared by Lady Cersei’s appraisal, but they were not entirely sure why King Aerys had dragged them here.

Aerys looked at the seated guests, his eyebrow flinched. “Who are these? I thought House Tyrell was today’s guests.”

“We are.” Loras answered without too much thought.

Margery stood and curtsied. “Lady Margery Tyrell and this is my brother Lord Loras.” Margery wanted to mark herself in Lord Robb’s head. He blinked but did not give any of his thoughts on seeing her unexpectedly away. He also did not scan her like most all men did, just nodded as if filing away the information for later.

Robb was not going to react, he was a northman and they learned early to keep everything covered to survive.  Of course, he immediately realised this was his yet unmet betrothed, but this was not about him meeting her, this was some strange game of the king’s.  Best wait for a better idea of the lay of the land.  As a last thought on the subject, he thought the girl would need to cover-up more in the North.

“Except he is not.” Aerys answered.

“Excuse me?” Margery did not understand.

“He is Sir Loras, unless he slays your brother Willas, who is Lord Tyrell.”

“By that standard, only my father is Lord Tyrell.” Loras tried to show his understanding of the king’s example.

“Well, then…” Aerys looked around, what did Rickard think. Rickard just looked insulted for his king. “Darkstar, go kill Mace Tyrell.”

“Okay.” Darkstar shrugged as other gasped ‘Your Grace’ in their shock.

“You all get he is insane, right?” Viserys asked the shocked audience. He gazed at his father. “Why do you want Sir Dayne to do that?”

“Mace Tyrell is a simpleton and I liked Willas Tyrell’s grit last night.  I think it is time House Tyrell had a change in lordship.”

“Maybe just ask House Tyrell to not send Lord Mace and only send Lord Willas if you are so opposed to the man.” Viserys suggested a sane option.  Aerys looked to Rickard, he nodded in agreement.

“Alright, you two get out.” Aerys pointed at the young nobles. “Next time bring Lord Willas, or don’t come at all. Lord Commander Hightower, if these two show up at my gate without the Tyrell I like, send them away.  If their grandmother shows up to protest my decision throw her in chains in a cell as a traitor and when Rhaella gets back, we will have party for her return and execute the traitor as an entertainment event.”

“As your grace wishes.” Lord Hightower bowed his head.  He knew Aerys would forget this by the end of the day.  “I shall escort these youth out.”  The Lord Commander touched each of the Tyrell youth’s elbows to move them.  When out of earshot he advised the young Tyrells. “He will not recall this threat in a few hours.  Unless your House upsets him before he forgets and then shall your House be engraved in his mind as traitors. Be absent until the Princess’ Tea and this will be forgotten.”

“Your grace,” Robb decided to be courageous or stupid, he wasn’t sure which. “Could I request if you hold any weight to the words of House Stark, could you leave Lady Margery alive, please.”

“Oh, did she catch your eye?” Aerys winked at Rickard who shook his head.

“Oh, no.” Robb shook his head. “It is just she is betrothed to a northern House, and I would hate to have to ride out of The North to have my Direwolf rip you to shreds to feast on you because said House did not appreciate how you treated the Lady promised to them.” Margery looked over her shoulder to see Robb Stark’s straight face, calm as if he hadn’t threatened the king.

Aerys stared at Robb for a long minute. “Agreed.  I always appreciated Lord Rickard, your grandfather’s counsel.  All the grandsons of his I have met, have reminded me of him. Margery shall live, for your Lord Robb.”

Robb bowed his head. “Thank you, your grace.” Margery forgot Crown Prince Aegon.

Lady Olenna was hoping her plans had worked, while she awaited the results, she decided to tackle her eldest grandson’s earlier issues.  She had been calling for him to come to her all morning, he sent the servants back with messages saying he was on his way, but he still hadn’t come. So, she was caused to go to him.  He had set himself up a a small office with a library.  She found Willas reading a book in this office of his.

“Willas why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t. I said I was on my way.” He did not even look up from his reading.

“You obviously are not.”

“But I am.  Its just you know this leg of mine, it makes me slower than most other people. You know what with me being crippled, it takes me such a long time to get anywhere.  I don’t even know how I could have gotten all the way to King’s Landing.” He continued to concentrate on his book.

“Are you making a point, Willas?”

“No, just staying in the rut you made for me.”

“Fine, you want to talk about this.”

“What would that be?” Willas was the least like his father, had learnt much from his grandmother.  She saw her own tactics being played on her.

“The duality of my stance on interacting with House Targaryen.”

“Duality? Hypocrisy.”

“In politics sometimes we must feint…”

“Feint?” He put his book down. “You are not feinting; you are are being hypocritical.”

“This is a chance for House Tyrell…”

Now his rage pushed him to his feet. “What changed? How did we go from not answering the invitation to converse, to you offering Loras as a marriage option for House Targaryen?”

“We saw opportunity.”

“Opportunity for what?” He did not sound as if he believed her.

“Willas, we must put our best foot forward.” Olenna had used the worst term she could.

“Are you really saying I couldn’t write a reply to a Princess’ invitation because I am a cripple?  How exactly is Princess Rhaenys an opportunity for Loras?”

“You know how much political power we would gain with a Targaryen Princess in our House; you know what this could mean for House Tyrell and The Reach.”

“You know Loras has a male preference.” He knew she was aware, wanted her to admit her hypocrisy.

“Which he will keep in his trousers until she is in Highgarden.  He knows his duty to his House.” Loras knew to do what he was told.

“What about his duty to her?  A husband has a duty to his bride too.  You always taught Margery to not except such treatment.”

“Margery is one of ours, Princess Rhaenys is not.  Princess Rhaenys is a piece on a board in the game of thrones. A piece we can use if Loras can convince her he is the choice to make.”

“People are not pawns, Grandmother.”

“Of course, they are. I hope to upgrade Margery to a Queen and that means with the proclivities of House Targaryen, Rhaenys must be out of Crown Prince Aegon’s sights.”

Willas shook his head at what his grandmother was saying. “You are cursing the princess to a loveless marriage so you can get your hooks into Aegon through Margery?”

“House Martell is trying the same thing to get Dornish blood on the Irone Throne.  Arianne is betrothed to Viserys but being bedded by Aegon.  They will have Arianne on his arm as queen as soon as they can.  We must get our blood on the Iron Throne, so Dorne does not become victorious.”

Willas could not give a fleeting thought to the Iron Throne or whose blood sat it; his concern was for the woman he knew Princess Rhaenys to be.  She did not deserve to be drowned in the wave of the Iron Throne and the blood that sat it.  Rhaenys had a beautiful heart that should not be the price of ascension to royalty by the Houses of Westeros.

“Where is Grandmother?” Margery could be heard to call to everyone she encountered.  She needed to inform her matriarch of the happenings of the meeting at the Keep.

“Margery!” Willas called his sister to her target.

Margery rushed into the room her face drawn and pale. “Terrible news.”

“The Princess did not like Loras?” Willas asked with amusement and hope.

“The King attended.” She said to her grandmother, then she turned to her brother. “Why did you not say King Aerys threatened to have all the girls of The Reach massacred?”

“What?” Olenna asked worried, looked at Willas who shrugged.

“Thought he decided against that plan after our audience.” Willas admitted, it was not really discussed with him.

“He wanted my head, first.”

“Worry not sister, you are a person to me, not a game piece. I would have saved you.” Olenna heard the barb, why was Willas her smartest grandchild acting like this?

“You did not need. Another attendee requested my survival and Aerys gave it to him.” Margery’s demeanour changed greatly with that information and a smile came to her face.

“Was Crown Prince Aegon in attendance?” Such good news. Olenna had thought Rhaenys would have her brother attend.

“Yes.” Margery nodded, but her thoughts remained on Lord Robb who had saved her head so easily.

“So, Aegon appreciated your hard work?” Olenna could see it all coming together.

Margery considered her grandmother’s question, he did seem to appreciate her preparation, but now she was thanking her grandmother’s plan because she had been perfectly prepared to suddenly meet her betrothed unexpectedly. “I believe he did.” She remembered the warning of the king. “His grace took offense at something to do with us, he declared we are not allowed back in the Keep without Willas as a chaperone.”

“I will speak to the king about this.” Olenna was not going to let that lie.

“You cannot argue against this grandmother.” Margery said with fear in her voice.

“Aerys does not scare me.”

“That may well be, but he also said if you come to complain he will throw you in a cell and execute you as a traitor when Queen Rhaella returns from Essos.”

“What?!”

“Something about the meeting offended him.” Margery wished she could communicate how terribly the meeting had gone for their House.

“Willas, you will attend this Tea with your siblings so our plans can be actioned.”

“I will not.” Willas stated firmly. Olenna could not believe he had refused her.

“I beg your pardon.” Olenna glared at him.

“My crippled leg stops me from walking that far.  If my intact siblings waited for me to accompany them, they would turn up a day late. Best you find another way.” Then, he shut his door in his grandmother’s face.

“Willas!” She yelled through the door.

“What is with Willas and his leg today?” Margery did not recall Willas having such a bad attitude about his disability before.

“He thinks I am a hypocrite.” Olenna huffed.

“Why?”

“Princess Rhaenys sent your brother an invitation to meet or correspond, I forbade him from communicating with her.”

“Why did she send a letter to Willas?”

“I don’t know, probably sent an invitation to all the Lord Paramount’s sons, or sons of all the great Houses.  She was cloistered and was unaware of Willas’ handicap.”

“What would his leg have to do with him writing to her?”

“House Tyrell must put its best foot forward in this opportunity.”

“But Grandmother, Willas is House Tyrell’s best foot. Even with his leg. He is smart and handsome and intelligent and…”

“I know you love your brother, I do too, but Willas would be an insult to present to House Targaryen, they would just see us offering a defective groom.  They don’t know Willas as we do.”

“Oh, by the Seven! You do not expect me to swallow that do you? No wonder Willas is angry.”

“He is just being oversensitive about it.”

“Grandmother, Willas has never been oversensitive about his leg, he has always taken it in his stride.  You know, you and father are the only ones that keep mentioning it. Stop trying to coddle Willas, he hates it.”

“We are courting Dragons.”

“Yeah, well, Loras was pretty shit at it. Courting a Dragon. Willas was right, Rhaenys did not like Loras.  He swished his hair, and we extolled his tourney brilliance, and she couldn’t care less.”

“I worried due to her Dornish blood she would not seriously look at our House.”

“It wasn’t our House, she was very interested in Highgarden; had a barrage of questions, it was Loras she did not like. Even called him out on being Lord of House Tyrell, said it wasn’t his title to flaunt.” Margery knew they weren’t the princess’ words, but it was her meaning.  Had Rhaenys expected Willas to be the offered lord by House Tyrell, as the Heir to Highgarden and being unwed or betrothed, he should be the obvious offer?

The door opened for Willas, and he looked angry to see them still outside. “I am going to the Sept.” He announced curtly.

“You are not.” Olenna stepped before him, knowing he had trouble moving sideways.

“Do not think I will not throw you out of the way.” His hazel eyes burned down into his grandmother’s.

“Willas.” Margery gasped.  Why was he so enraged?

“We will have this out now.” Olenna commanded.

“I will not do anything you say.” Willas growled down at the small woman with the great presence.

“Willas if you are insulted, we did not discuss this…”

“Discuss? You don’t ever discuss, just do whatever you want and let me clean up the mess.”

“I do not make messes.” Olenna was insulted by his stance.

“You do, you just think they are triumphs.  ‘Oh, how crafty I am in the political arena, I got away with it’. No, you didn’t, I just did deals so those you pissed off don’t come for my family. I am done.  If they come to the gates of Highgarden, I will push you or father out and shut the gates again. They can tear apart whichever one of you pissed them off.”

“I do what is best for this House.”

“Do you? Because you are whoring out Margery to Crown Prince Aegon who is more likely to bed her and forget her when House Stark is in the capital.  What if they caught you?”

“I am not whoring out Margery.  I would demand the prince marry her if he deflowered her.”

“Whoring out Margery.” Willas turned to his sister. “Do you even want to marry Aegon?”

“What girl wouldn’t want to be queen?” Olenna answered for her granddaughter.

“Princess Daenerys for one is very averse to it.” Willas had heard it on the grapevine and also from Rhaenys. “It is also unhonourable. Margery is betrothed, do you think Robb Stark will want her once he finds out she was trawling for Prince Aegon?” That had an unexpected reaction from the girl in question, at breakfast she would have not cared but Robb Had just saved her head.

“If Margery could be queen, what do we care about House Stark.  What girl would choose a Lord before a King-to-be?” Unexpectedly Margery raised her hand.

“Margery?” Willas looked at his little sister.

“Me.”

“What?” Olenna did not know what her granddaughter was answering or referencing.

“Me. I am a girl who just might choose a Lord before a King.” Margery looked sheepish, because she knew her grandmother would not like it.

“Where is this coming from?” Olenna asked wondering if all her grandchild had lost their minds.

“What has happened, Margery?” Willas asked softer and with genuine care for the girl, not that Olenna did not have genuine concern she loved all her grandchildren fiercely, maybe why she scratched them so much.  Her plans were about getting the absolute best for them.

“It wasn’t Prince Aegon who saved my head in the Keep today, it was Lord Robb.  He never revealed I was his betrothed, but he told King Aerys he would ride out of The North to avenge me, as I was betrothed to a Northern Lord. Would have his Direwolf feast on the king, for the insult and King Aerys, said he would spare me for Lord Robb.” Margery smiled quite impressed by her betrothed’s bravery.

“Oh, please, do not get all romantically soppy.” Olenna cursed the youth and their naivity. “This is why Loras was sent to House Targaryen, he will not be romantic about who he marries and will endure whatever faults his bride has.”

“What faults do you consider he will need endure with the Princess?” Willas was enraged with his offense for Rhaenys.

“We do not know why Aerys cloistered her for so long. She may be homely.”

“She is not.” Margery and Willas answered.  Margery wondered how Willas knew that, maybe he had seen her in the city.

“She could be simple.”

Again, in unison. “She is not.”

“Aerys could have cloistered her because he actually holds her precious in his life.” Willas recalled how the king had spoken about his granddaughter and his anger at her hurt.

“That is not like Aerys.” Olenna rebuffed the idea.

“Maybe the king is only mad, not a black heart like you.” Willas did not easily move sideways but he could do it, which he did. “I need to get out of this House and away from your poison.” He did not slow or stop he left his family where they stood.

“What are we to do Grandmother?” Margery saw Willas was hurt by something, but she could not discern what.

No matter how many rows Lady Olenna and Willas had, he did not move on his refusal to accompany his siblings to the Tea.  Usually, his reason was something to do with his bad leg, how it made it impossible to do anything go anywhere, be anything.  How he wouldn’t want to embarrass House Tyrell by the other Houses and nobles seeing his deformed state.

In the end Lady Olenna had to escort her other grandchildren and hope Aerys had forgiven or forgotten whatever insulted him.  He had not, though he only had his guards refuse House Tyrell admittance, which was shameful enough before the other Houses.

“Do you need an in?” Margery turned to a burred northern accent, to see Lord Robb dressed finely in his House colours with a wide smile on his face.

“Thank you.” Margery gave him a coy smile. Then she questioned why he was there; he was betrothed to her. “Why are you attending?”

Robb shrugged. “King Aerys insisted, I and father told him I was betrothed to a southern girl, but he still insisted.”

“A southern girl?”

“Yeah, like you Lady Margery are betrothed to a northern lord.” Robb smiled at her in a new fashion. “So, I wonder why you were dressed to catch a husband two days ago.”  Margery swallowed uncomfortably.

“My grandmother never likes to rest on her laurels, and unfortunately that means she will be trying to best her last negotiation until I am in my marriage bed.”

“Well, you would have to hope she would desist then.” Robb grinned at her.

“Yes.”

“Because you love your grandmother.”

“I do.”

“Wouldn’t want to see her harmed.”

“Yes, why would she be harmed?”

“Greywind.”

“Greywind? What or who is Greywind?”

“My Direwolf.”

“Your Direwolf?”

“Yeah, he’d be guarding the door and would eat her.” Robb grinned that wolfish grin he did, and Margery was sure it affected her by making her feel weak at the knee.

“Marry a Stark.” Was whispered in her opposite ear, and she turned to see a smiling Jo’Hannah Martell. “Mother’s best advice.”  The girl then skipped past them and into the courtyard.

Lord Eddard saw the troubles of House Tyrell and though he had not appreciated seeing Lady Margery trying to attempt to be a notch on Prince Aegon’s bedpost, he saw as with two days previous Robb was having a diverting effect on his betrothed.

When he had questioned his son, Robb said he had not known her and neither had she known him, he was willing to forgive, so forgive they did and again Robb seemed to woo the girl with words and a smile. Ashara said Eddard was to watch Robb and that grin of his, it drew the ladies.  When he asked how, she told him she had no idea, but he had inherited from him, and she was glad he had stowed that weapon when they were wed.  Apparently, she was totally prepared to fillet any girl who fell for his wolfish grin. He didn’t even know he’d had one.

“Lady Olenna.” Eddard knew this act would piss Aerys off, but he was so sick of catering to the mad man, wished he had more of his father’s peace. Rickard Stark had never faulted.

“Lord Stark.” She worried they were about to have another problem.

“It is good to see we did not plan too badly.” He nodded to Robb and Margery as they were encapsulated in their own world. Olenna saw what The Lord of The North meant, Margery looked enraptured by the Stark boy she was set to wed. “We will forget we ever saw your deception and dishonour.” He said quietly to let her know she was not fooling him. “Would you like to accompany my son and his betrothed to meet Princess Rhaenys?” Eddard employed a different Wolfish grin, one that said careful you might soon be lunch.

“That would be lovely.” She bowed her head slightly. “Loras come.” She commanded.

Aerys saw Lady Olenna and her little buds, he looked for Willas. Nowhere.  I am not happy Rickard. “How is it House Tyrell is missing its required guest?” Aerys asked the guards.

“Lord Stark asked them in as his guests.” The man expected to die.

Aerys screwed up his face but did nothing as Rickard was glaring at him almost screaming at how he would reduce Aerys to a puddle of blood if he touched any member of Rickard’s family. Yes, you are right I have been cruel enough to your family.

There were many young and not so young and far too young lords here to meet Rhaenys.  She looked sickened out over the many men who had come to ‘see’ her and present their case for why she should accept their proposals. Darkstar did not let them get too close. Rhaenys smiled as she heard him grumble about how Aegon was a deficit brother and should be more like him as brothers go.

“I am such a better brother than him. Little fucking gecko.”

“Are you alright Gerold?” She asked amused by the knight.  She did not disagree with his words, Darkstar was turning out to a much more engaged brother, she did not frown but she wanted to, for something had occurred between her mother and Gerold and he was stinging still.  It was almost like every time he saw Elia he was re-wounded.

“Where is Aegon? This one he is actually supposed to be here for.” Rhaenys could see how unimpressed Darkstar was with Aegon’s lack of appearance.

“Well, Arianne isn’t here and Viserys is.” She smirked at Darkstar. “Aegon is obviously trying to get the high score over you.”

“He can have that game.” Rhaenys’ brow arched. “Again, lovely girl but she is Dornish.”

“So are we.”

“Yes, but we are half Dornish, and she is full Dornish.” Rhaenys did not understand, for one Darkstar was full Dornish. “There is some gene they have that makes them find fidelity impossible.”

“O-K-ay.” She did not understand what he was talking about and Darkstar realised he was letting his northern Dragon blood make him have knowledge he shouldn’t.

“They are made to not be faithful.”

“Mother was faithful, and she is fully Dornish.” Darkstar laughed loudly unable to let that pass with closed lips.

“Maybe you are right.” Except he knew she wasn’t, Rhaenys was a Lion not a Dragon. Still, as she was his kitten, he would protect her even from the truth.

“Well, I am going to be faithful.” She spoke with determination.

“I am not sure you can.”

“Excuse you Sir Dayne.”

“Well, you are still looking at every man trying to make him change into Willas Tyrell s-o-o. Thinking you may not be able to promise that.”

“Well, we are now aware that we felt incorrectly towards said lord.” She stiffened her lip and did not fall.

“I know I want to kill him for upsetting you, but you still will not let me.  Won’t even let me break his other leg.” He whimpered about her constraints on him. “So, I think you are still a bit ill. As in lovesick.”

“He seemed so… I am a naïve girl.”

“No.” Darkstar rubbed her back.

“I thought when they said House Tyrell.” She paused with a caught breath as she had when the event occurred. “But it was not him, just his brother. He did not.” She stopped speaking unable to say the next word but again her heart broke to the thought, Willas did not care.

“Rhaenys, forget him.  There are many lords here wanting to wed you.”

“Wanting to wed a Targaryen Princess, not me.  None of these men or boys cared to even send me back a personalised letter. Just dead Maester written agreements. None cared who I was.”

Rhaenys sat lost to the point of this, her Uncle Oberyn was out in full force inferring these non-Dornish Houses had no chance. Most insulting was Loras Tyrell’s lack of notice that he was offensive to her.  His grandmother the Queen of Thorns was here too, pushing hard.  Rhaenys wanted to go cry in her pillows.

“Princess Rhaenys.” A northern burred accent came to her, as Loras and other men prattle on trying to outdo each other. “May I introduce myself properly, I am Robb Stark of Winterfell. This is Margery Tyrell of Highgarden, my betrothed so, you need not worry about me trying to woo your royal personage.”

“Hail and welcome.” She did not exactly feel welcoming, but this was the first male not trying to preen before her.

“This does seem tiresome as events go.” Robb got nasty glares from all her attendees.

“Why are you here, Lord Stark if you are betrothed and find it tiresome?”

“Oh, I am here awaiting my brother’s return from Essos.  He is returning with my uncle Arthur and my cousin Jon.” Robb stopped many conversations with that declaration.

“Jon?” Darkstar did not know why Robb was rolling out that information, but it had a brilliant effect.

“Jon Snow.”

“A bastard cousin?” Rhaenys was not sure what Robb was doing either, but this young lord was doing something. She watched as her mother dropped her plate and her aunt smiled as her Uncle cursed.

“Well, no, but as yet his House has not claimed him.  His name is not really Jon Snow.  I hear he is returning to King’s Landing on your grandmother, the Queen’s boat.  You must be excited to have her and Princess Daenerys back.”

Rhaenys nodded along with him, and she did not smile as she felt caused to do. Daenerys found her Black Cell Boy, good on her. “Very.” She looked at Viserys, what would Aegon do about Arianne?

The Stark boy had the king’s attention how did he know?  Aerion might have journeyed down to Winterfell.  He might have told Lord Eddard and his son the truth.  Aerys could be about to lose Aegon.  He had so many Aegons, but he only wanted the one.  If he believed in Gods, he would ask them for Aerion to not take the only Aegon that matter: Jon.

“Do tell me more about your cousin who has not been claimed.” Rhaenys saw horror cross her mother’s face. Interesting.

“I don’t know much, I have yet to meet him. I hear he takes after his mother in colour and his father in other aspects.” Robb shrugged as if it were nothing. “I am excited to see him and maybe he will attend my wedding. Would that not be lovely, Margery?”

“It would.” Rhaenys had seen Margery trying to catch Aegon’s eye the day they met, but as she gazed at the girl, she doubted her brother could get the lady’s attention if he was on fire.

“You have been matched wisely, I hear the best husbands are Starks or good Targaryen Princes.” Rhaenys wished one was an option for her.  She was too intelligent to marry Aegon.

“Cersei.” Oberyn growled; his wife shrugged.

“What? Its true.” Cersei turned to Lord Eddard. “Lucky Ashara.” Her smirk made the man take a step back. “Jo’Hannah.”

“I know mother, marry a Stark or a good Targaryen Prince.”

“Which we don’t have in your age range so, just marry a Stark dear girl.”

“Yes, Mother.” Cersei smiled at her daughter.

“Now, Lord Stark we were discussing Brandon and Jo’Hannah, last we met.” Cersei stepped towards the northern lord.

“Cersei.” Oberyn snapped. “We are not…”

“Do not marry a Dornish Prince, my dear.” Cersei told her daughter.

“Yes, Mother.” Jo’Hannah was not sure her father would agree, pretty sure he wouldn’t but her mother never cared.  Father would not hurt her mother no matter how she irked him, because Stefan would send his father to any God that would take him to protect their mother.

“Any advice for me Aunt Cersei?” Rhaenys asked with amusement.

Cersei looked over the crop of suitors and turned her nose up. How strange was it that of late Viserys was turning into a good Targaryen prince? Cersei’s gazed stopped on Loras. He likes men, why is he here? It did give her an idea to annoy Oberyn though. “Nothing here.” She sighed as she looked away to gaze at Margery. “They really sent the wrong son, didn’t they?  Who would send a Knight of Flowers when you could send a Lord of Grain? I though old Olenna was smarter.” Then she looked at Olenna. “It may be the wine speaking but did you have a fall and knock all your good sense out?”

“What are you saying Cersei?” Aerys took her lead and ran with the baton. “Have House Tyrell insulted us?” He walked right up to Loras and glared over him. Aerys tried for his very best crazy eyed look. “You don’t smell like flowers, is that a hint of ammonia?”

“Grandfather.” Rhaenys reprimanded, but Aerys knew if she really was trying to save this knight, she would have called him ‘popa’, so he decided to go totally off the planet for his little Desert Rose.

“Did you bring a boy who can’t even bathe after pissing himself to offer to my granddaughter?” He rose to his full height which barely anyone remembered was quite that tall and squared his shoulders, it was then that the elder participants recalled Prince Aerys had been a fine knight once and he looked like a craze warrior now. “House Tyrell, nothing can save you from my wrath! Guards!”

“Father.” Viserys spoke calmly. “Perhaps just evict them from…”

“Highgarden?” Aerys spun to stare at his son.

“I was thinking this event and maybe talk to Lord Willas about his family.” Viserys was astonished by his father’s pageantry because this was not real.

“Also, your grace could Margery stay?” Robb asked as if he had no idea how dangerous Aerys was.

However, this gave Aerys reason to calm down. Did you see that Rickard? Your grandson and my son, bloody courageous. “Good idea, I do like talking to Lord Willas.  Lord Robb, have you taken a shine to the Lady?”

“It is just that we are set to wed.” Robb answered honestly.

“Since yesterday?” Aerys was confused for a moment and then smiled as he recalled the discussion on the night Willas was stupid and upset Rhaenys.  Margery was betrothed to Robb. “Oh, that was smart yesterday.” He knew it was longer ago, but he did not care. “Sneaky, I like you.”

“Thank you.” Robb bowed his head.

“And Willas, of all my lords I only like this Robb Stark and Willas Tyrell, the rest of you I would use for firewood.  Thank these two young men as they stop me from using you all for kindling.”

Aerys turned to leave, he really did not like other people and there were too many of them in this garden. “I especially hate you.” He said as he passed Prince Oberyn. “I only keep you alive because I like hearing your wife insult you. Wouldn’t let Tywin within a mile of my Keep but you are always welcome Lady Cersei.”

Cersei bowed her head. “Thank you.” Then she smirked with her newfound power. “Weren’t your guards evicting Lady Olenna and Sir Loras?”

“Yes!” The king spun to glare at his guards. “Now please. If you wouldn’t mind.”  The guards ushered the Tyrell’s out but left Lady Margery as technically she was almost a Stark.

Willas saw his grandmother and brother return without Margery and he had to admit he was curious, but he was still too enraged at the insult to him and to Rhaenys with his family’s conniving.

“How did we do?” His father asked stupidly.

“Margery is completely smitten with her betrothed.” Olenna snarked as if that was a terrible state.

“Should we not be glad?” Mace asked in his confusion. “House Stark is the only House from the Rebel Houses that came out near unscathed in the aftermath.”

“Does that not make you think how that was?” Olenna asked her son, it was a mystery, even House Lannister who had never rebelled had suffered repercussions, far more than the eldest lad’s stupid assassination attempt.

“They had suffered enough during the rebellion.” Mace tendered as a reason.  They had, they lost a Lord Paramount, his heir and his only daughter.

“Robert Baratheon lost his head and Eddard Stark walked away as Lord Paramount of The North.” Olenna did not understand.

“Maybe Aerys had something to keep him loyal.” Willas surmised that might be the cause.

“Like what?”

“Brandon Stark’s son.” Willas threw a thought out.

“No, what interest would Aerys have in any bastard of Brandon Stark, he was named the Wild Wolf for a reason, he probably has numerous northern bastards.” Olenna shot that idea down.

Willas was about to throw out another suggestion but held his tongue. Lyanna Stark’s child. Aerys would be very interested if Crown Prince Rhaegar’s trist with Lady Stark produced a child. There is another heir to the Iron Throne out there.

“Why does Lord Stark appear at court every year?” Olenna could not put it together.

“Maybe that is a requirement of his House remaining in power?” Loras suggested and it was a good enough reason to stop the others from trying to wring something out of the strange actions.  Willas however, he only became more curious. “Do you think Margery should just go north with them when they leave after Robb’s twin and cousin arrive?”

“She is little to no use to us marriage-wise since meeting her betrothed. We will discuss it.” Olenna started to leave. “All this has given me a headache and I need to think on our next move.”

“Robb’s twin and cousin are arriving soon?”

“Coming from Essos with the Queen and Princess Daenerys. I don’t know how they met up with her grace, maybe they accompanied her.” Loras shrugged and started to head out of the room.

“Do you know who this cousin is?”

“Some Jon Snow, who isn’t really a bastard but hasn’t been claimed by his House. I don’t know, and didn’t really care, it has nothing to do with House Tyrell, so who cares.” Loras disappeared down the hall.

“The question is why does Aerys?” Willas said quietly to himself.

The next morning – after Margery had returned late – Olenna found Willas still wasn’t sharing a table with her.  She was confused, why was he acting so ornery? She would have saved herself whatever drama it was, but Aerys had very clearly told everybody that House Tyrell’s political salvation was only going to be awarded if Willas asked for it.

“Willas.”

“Crone.” He said under his breath.

“What?” Had she just heard her grandson call her a crone?

“What do you need?”

“You need to go petition to see the king on our House’s behalf.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I will not be doing that.” He stated calmly.

“You will.” When had he begun being so disrespectful?

“How do you plan to make me? Because unlike Loras you can’t stick something up my arse to get me to do your bidding.”

“Stick something up his…” She was shocked by Willas and his attitude.

“Like a pretty boy.” Willas clarified what he had meant.

“Loras…”

“Is as good as a puppet for your will.” Willas looked at his grandmother impassively. “I, however, am not a puppet, so go away, I will not be doing anything for you.”

“When di you become so disrespectful?”

“When I realised how disrespected I was.” He snarled back at her. “don’t deny it.  You look at me and all you see is a defective piece.  Like I am fundamentally flawed.  You use my talents to your own end, but you can’t look past one one failing which isn’t a failing, it was just an accident.” Willas glared at her and thought on something Prince Viserys had said. “Do you think all my children will inherit my riding accident?  I may limp but that is stupid.”

“Of course, I don’t believe your children will have limps.”

“Then why do tell me not to engage with the Targaryen Princess, but ask them to accept Loras as her groom and husband?”

“We are not sure of this princess, she cannot be Lady of Highgarden, you are our future.” Olenna expected only the best out of Willas, she was well aware Aerys was not the only one who looked at House Tyrell and wished Willas was firmly the lord they must engage with.

“I am your future?” That stumped him for a second. “If I am so great of an asset, why have I not seen one possible bride sent my way?”

“We haven’t found any woman who wouldn’t see your…”

“Defect.”

“Willas, I know it seems to be strange that we are courting a Dornish descended girl.  Sooner or later, we need to make peace with our neighbours.”

“It is not about the animosity The Reach still has with Dorne.  I am not averse to finding a solution.  This is not about Dorne, because Princess Rhaenys is not Dornish, she is not a Martell, she is a Targaryen born on Dragonstone. This has nothing to do with land treaties.”

“Then what? Why are you so against Loras bringing a Targaryen Princess into our power?”

Willas’ arms went up in exasperation. “You don’t care one bit about her happiness, do you?”

“She is not a Tyrell, why would I?”

“Because she is a person, Grandmother.  A person, not a game piece, not a political advantage, a person.”

“Well, I don’t think anyone is thinking about a wedding with her without political advancement.” Olenna had taught Willas this, why was he acting like she hadn’t.

“They should be.  Offering Loras is an insult to her. He will never learn to love and adore her.”

“Marriage is not about that.”

“Well, sometimes it should be.”

“Loras will do his duty and lay with her on their wedding night and then he will…”

“No!” Willas exploded at the same shitty words coming out of his grandmother’s mouth as out of Loras’. “No. That is not sufficient. Also, you think her family will not learn of that deception and the insult done to her.  You are walking a dangerous path.  One that could destroy our House.”

“Honestly, Willas I do not see why this bothers you so.”

Willas ran his hand over his face, he could not agree with this disrespect of Rhaenys by his House, he could not condone it. He could not let it occur. “What do you think it looks like to House Targaryen? You offer a third son who is not even attracted to girls to their firstborn daughter. Don’t spout Loras’ bull that they won’t know. They already know, he is a façade, this is not intelligent, Grandmother.  I am wrathful at your disrespect to me, but I am sane. Aerys is not.” Willas stalked off leaving his grandmother to contemplate his words.

“My son disobeyed you.” Alerie Tyrell said softly to her good-mother. Lady Tyrell barely involved herself in the politics of her family, but she was related to Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of Aerys Kingsguard and he had revealed her youngest childrens faux pars.  “You know sometimes I think my Hightower blood runs more strongly in my eldest sons.”

Olenna had little time to speak to Alerie, it was not that she was as simple as Mace, it was that Alerie kept to herself when it came to her opinions.  The woman did not involve herself in politics and was happy to just be the Lady of Highgarden, she had no ambition.

Alerie knew Lady Olenna had agreed to her as Mace’s wife due to her connections via family bonds. Indeed, her younger sister Lynesse and her marriage to Sir Jorah Mormont had garnered Margery betrothal to the Heir of Winterfell.  It was not that Alerie had no ambition for her House as Olenna thought, it was that she had divergent ambitions to her good-mother.

“Are you saying their rebellion is your fault?”

“No.  Garlan loves Leonette, that does not make him rebellious, it makes him honourable and honest.”

“I could have chosen better.”

“And my second son would be as miserable as my first.”

Olenna’s eyes narrowed. “You knew too.”

“I did.  I also encouraged Garlan to forge his own path rather than staying in the rut you set for him.” Alerie looked down at her good-mother, so many feared the Queen of Thorns but not Alerie and she had taught her children to learn all they could from Olenna and act better than her. She had failures but overall, Alerie was pleased with her children. For one they were all better than their father, she loved the man, but he was a blockhead. “I encourage that in all my children.”

“What do you mean Willas disobeyed?”

“Why do people fear you, you are not even vigilant over your own garden?” Alerie could not believe Olenna had such faith in her iron grip over House Tyrell, she had not seen the blazing fire that explained Willas’ attitude of late.

“What are you speaking of?”

“Willas responded to Rhaenys’ invitation.  They have been corresponding regularly since she was freed to find a husband.  House Targaryen is responding to our House badly because Rhaenys is probably asking why the son who has written to her so long has not shown up as a possible groom, while his younger brother has.  Loras is much better playing womaniser when he is wearing a helm.  Rhaenys is not blind, she has probably seen Loras is more attracted to her brother than her.”

“I told Willas not to respond.”

“And my son ignored you, knowing having a Targaryen princess as a friend would be good for our House.  However, I think now you have insulted him and the princess, I must accept Willas may just have found himself a Lady of Highgarden. So, stop sending Loras when even the mad king has seen Willas is the preferred son.” Alerie turned and walked away, she had to encourage Willas to go get himself a princess. “Oh, I would like to skite that my crippled son, was the one to fatten my youngest son’s lip and blackened his eye.” She was proud Willas stood up for himself and his desires, but she wished it had not involved Loras bleeding. “You may have been selling him short. I know Willas is House Tyrell’s future, you need to accept Princess Rhaenys might be too.”

Olenna was astonished she had not seen any of this, Willas was right she had disregarded him, and she should not have. Had been so protective of people selling him short due to his limp, she had committed the exact crime she wanted to save him from. If any cripple was going to win the heart of a princess, it would be Willas. How did she change tacts and bet on the other horse now? How did she get out of the Bramble Patch of her eldest grandson?

Chapter Text

Lord Varys had come to King Aerys to say the Queen’s ship had entered Blackwater Bay and would be with them within a few days.  He also said there was a curiosity to the ship, it was towing a yacht, a fine yacht. Aerys asked about the ship carrying the gold to his wife, as it would not have reached Meereen in time, to be told it was following the Queen’s ship.

Aerys wondered if the voyage was successful, was Aegon on the ship? He knew the false one Connington raised would be from a message Elia received but he cared little for any Aegon except the one he wanted to wrap a piece of cloth around the hand of binding him to little Daenerys.  Aerys waved his hand to dismiss Varys and everyone else. He had to think of a way to remove all the other Aegons so he could marry Daenerys to Jon.

Elia had said he could not kill them, she wanted all her Aegons to live.  Darkstar would hold Aerys to his promise to the man’s mother, though he was still stinging from her rejection.  Aerys did feel sad for Darkstar, Elia was in shock at the news, and she had reacted badly; Darkstar had been a good son and yet he had not been given a welcoming acceptance to the truth of his birth.

Still, that was not Aerys’ current conundrum. How to contain the false Aegon of Dragonstone, was Aerys’ problem.  He was not going to like losing Daenerys as a bride. Should Aerys pretend he would swap the false Aegon for Elia’s real son? He could, but then he would need annul that betrothal for Jon to be her real groom. It was a lot of mucking about to inflict on his daughter.

Rhaenys came up behind her uncle quietly, finding him gazing at his betrothed and her cousin Arianne, as the princess played cyvasse with Aegon. The players were getting on famously, like two cousins who had grown up in each other’s pockets.

“What are we thinking?” Rhaenys asked because she knew Viserys, and he appeared tense.

“Stealing your freedom.” His voice was tense. “How I hate how much I care for you, Nys.”He sounded angry. She came to stand before him.

“What do you mean?”

“Your brother is sampling my betrothed.” He growed. Rhaenys turned to watch Aegon and Arianne jibing each other as they played.

“They are just playing Cyvasse.”  She looked over her shoulder.

“Now. Last night they were writhing all over her chambers.” Viserys spoke with no emotion, trying to swallow his anger.

“Oh, Rys. I am so sorry. I would have thought…” Rhaenys was sure with news their grandmother’s ship would dock today or tomorrow, that the affair would end. Surely Aegon understood the ramifications if it were discovered; Daenerys would not forgive and would take the golden opportunity to escape her betrothal.

“They would quit?” Viserys’ eyebrow arched and his lips sneered.

“Yes.” Rhaenys sighed sadly. Viserys’ eyes left his betrothed to gaze at his niece as she sat beside him.

“Nys…”

“I am offended for you.”

“Not for yourself?”

“Why? Pretty sure from Arianne’s words about Darkstar, my little cousin is far more to my brother’s appreciated level.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Her soft time skillis far higher than mine.” When Viserys didn’t seem anymore understanding of her meaning, she decided to explain, so got as close to his ear as possible. “Arianne is no longer a maiden. Sorry.”

“Nys, are you…?” Viserys wondered if his assumption about the siblings’ relationship was wrong.

“I am a princess, of course I am.” She sat back and stared offended at his question.

“It is just… some of the impressions you have given about Aegon and his proficiency. How Dany will be satisfied in the bed chamber.” Had she not meant Aegon had taken her maidenhead?

“Never that far. You know there is a lot before losing a maidenhead.”

“Huh.” Viserys looked back to the gameplaying duo.

“Popa, would skin my brother.” She wasn’t wrong Viserys recalled his father’s reaction and angry questions to he and Darkstar the night of Rhaenys’ heartbreak.

“Absolutely.” Viserys agreed. “I, myself, may have castrated him, if he had touched my Nys without consent.” Would have done much more, had done nothing because she did not act attacked. “Still, …”

“We are in the family for it, and girls do not have the boy freedom of pleasure houses. We can’t pop down to the Street of Silk and scratch that itch.”

“They do.”

“Really?” Rhaenys looked at her uncle in disbelief.

“Not princesses under father’s watch but other girls.” Viserys laughed at her incredulous expression. “Aegon did not tell you pleasure houses have male workers?” Rhaenys shook her head. “Probably best, you are a princess and must remain a maiden for your marriage bed.”

“Still.” Rhaenys looked cheated.

“Aegon not as appealing when he isn’t the only option?” Viserys grinned at her as her shoulders slumped with her huff of annoyance. “What choice did you have?”

“More than I thought, apparently.” She glared at Aegon’s back.

“Only one you believed you had.”

“No, I mean … we…” She let it hang because it did not feel right to state Viserys had been another choice.

“No!” Viserys had to stop that idea. Truth, was he had no plans to carry on that tradition, even if he married Daenerys he had not planned to repeat his wedding night.  As king he would just legitimise his bastards, he probably has a spare in case.

“You said you were contemplating stealing my freedom. I thought…”

“Yes, for marriage not intimate relations.”

“I am not so sure I am free now, marriage wise.” Her uncle had plans that did not include her happiness.

Viserys gazed at his niece, for so many years it had just been them; his Nys and her Rys. They could have grown to accept it, but they had grown in the prison the Mad King kept his family in. “Father may have an extra option for you, one Dorne will hate.”

“Dorne will hate any option not of their choice.” Rhaenys had endured days of her uncle trying to sell his choices.

“The Reach is in talks.” Viserys saw the caught breath, he had been sure Nys was cradling a cracked heart some days ago. “I doubt it will happen.”

“Why?” Viserys eyes narrowed at a crack in his neice’s voice, why did she sound upset?

“Father would never.” He spoke slowly as he tried to unravel this strangeness.

“Popa said.” She paused. “He said…”

“The man prefers men in his bed.”

Rhaenys looked confused. “Prefers men?” Her last encounter with Willas was not good but he had never seemed to prefer men.

“Yes. Sir Loras is a picture of knightly romance, but he would prefer a Rhaegar to a Rhaella.” Viserys thought that example should paint the best picure.

“Loras?”

“The Knight of Flowers.” Viserys nodded to confirm the idiot idea.

“Loras has not communicated with me.” Rhaenys did not comprehend why House Tyrell was offering Loras and not Willas. Why would they offer Loras when Willas had been the one to correspond to her letters? The girl’s eyes welled with tears as she answered her own internal question: Willas did not wish to be any more than her friend. All his kind words and jibes had not been about his own desire to spend time with her, he had been making friends with his little brother’s potential bride.

Seeing her pain, Viserys reached out to hold her hand. “Father may be mad, but he would never allow a marriage for you that would see you insulted.” Viserys himself would do the political suicide action of hauling House Tyrell in to answer to the insult of an offer of Sir Loras. Olenna and her simpering son Mace Tyrell should explain why Princess Rhaenys was only worthy of a third son when they still had a firstborn son available.

As he had said to his father, if they thought Lord Willas was an insult due to his disability; Loras was more due to his proclivities. Viserys didn’t care who any man wanted in his bed; he cared if someone was sharing a man’s bed when that man was supposed to be sharing Rhaenys’ bed. He would think House Tyrell and its queen would have inquired to the possibility of Willas; he was the one who had more of a relationship – Viserys guessed by Rhaenys’ response to his name – with the princess.  All Viserys could think was they had some insulting assumptions about Rhaenys.

Rhaenys looked at her hands and shook her head sadly. “Popa might not curse me to a bad marriage, but my Martell uncles will without even looking twice at it.”

“They would not choose Loras, he is from The Reach. Also, this uncle would not let them get away with that.  You know if it gets down to the wire, we could drink our worries away.” Viserys went back to his original idea, not to save himself from Arianne but to save his Nys.

“How would getting drunk help?”

“Drunk with a septon in attendance at the end of the night.”

Rhaenys looked at him blankly. “Why?” she asked confounded and not seeing his plan.

“I will steal your freedom, by having a drunk wedding. We blame the wine for us marrying under its influence.”

The princess smiled at his idea. “They would just annul it the next day when we told them.”

Viserys’ expression turned thoughtful as he wrestled for a solution, his eyes raised as did his index finger. “We drunkenly runaway the same night for our honeymoon. Then we say we can’t annul it as it is consummated.”

“Consummated?”

“Yeah, Nys it could work.  They won’t know whether it is or not and as long as we stick to the story, they cannot prove one way or the other.” Viserys thought it was brilliant.

“Or they ask Darkstar, and he tells the truth.”

“How would he know?” Viserys had noticed Sir Gerold Dayne was close with his niece. “Rhaenys, maybe if you and Darkstar are that close, you should.” He weaved his head instead of speaking.

Rhaenys laughed and shook her head. “I have offered myself to him.” She watched Viserys’ eyes widen, and she smiled again. “As a sister, not a warm body.” Viserys seemed relieved by that.

“And, he would do anything for you, so he would help us.”

“Let us see what the future holds before we go there.” Rhaenys loved the devotion of her uncle.

Rhaella was astounded that Aerys was standing on the wharf with the entirety of the royal family when her ship docked, and her entourage was about to disembark. The queen had expected soldiers to escort the returning royals, then a carriage to the keep.  This line up was expected in the Red Keep not on the wharf. She perused her family.

Aerys had miraculously groomed himself, because she knew he would never have allowed anyone to groom him. He kept licking his lips, he was not here to welcome her home; he was anticipating Jon appearing.  Her brother confused her when it came to Jon.  He must have known the gold was for buying Jon and yet he sent it anyway. He tortured the boy but acted like he was also the most important person in the world.

Viserys was standing beside his father and had a dark-haired woman beside him.  Her son had not changed much in her absence, he still wore his bored expression.  Rhaella worried for her son’s future marriage as she noted the distance Viserys and the Dornish Princess, Arianne.  Viserys was taking every opportunity to make space between them.  She could wonder if he wished a Valyrian wife – was he still wishing to marry Daenerys?

Said princess, Arianne was beautiful, she was like a young Elia in appearance.  Rhaella wondered if Viserys was living out Rhaegar’s life, living a shadow of his elder’s life.  Viserys was not Rhaegar, and he would not be fond of the wife he did not want; he would blame her for what he could not have. She looked intelligent and as if she knew what men thought when they looked her.

She saw Aegon scanning for Daenerys with an expectant expression. Her grandson would be facing a great rejection, for Daenerys would never marry him.  If Rhaella did not convince Aerys to let Daenerys have Jon, her daughter may simply refuse to marry at all to keep the boy she found in a Black Cell.

She took and extra moment to really look at her grandson, who she now knew never had been.  Was it nature or nurture that gave him the arrogant set to his features? Rhaella could not disregard how even with this knowledge She could see Aegon’s resemblance to his ‘relatives’who were not infact his relatives.  How did a random Valyrian child fit so perfectly into House Targaryen? Who were his parents?

Elia was scanning the ship as frantically as she could without giving herself away, her eyes were searching for her true son, Aegon.  Would she see him through his blue hair? How would his replacement take the news he was not really the prince he had been raised?  Rhaella worried for the future of her family with all these secrets being revealed, this tide may be more dangerous than a rebellion.

This could be the worst time in their dynasty, two Aegons, not that that was new, but it could bring the world of House Targaryen to its end.  House Targaryen and the Seven Kingdoms did not need another civil war, another dance of Dragons.  As one was an un-blooded bastard it was doubtful even with a sane king he would not be taken out of the competition.  Rhaella had hope that a mad king would find a place for the boy she had watched grow.

Rhaenys seemed distracted.  More. She leaned towards a knight that stood amongst the Targaryens, almost sheltering in his shadow. Rhaenys was a beautiful girl and Rhaella had to smile at her favourite granddaughter, one might say she was her only, but even if there were twenty contenders, Rhaenys would win. Had she found love with a knight to fill her days married to a husband she did not want?  Rhaella must speak to Aerys, Rhaenys could not marry Tyrion Lannister, she should be freed to marry this man she leaned against.

The knight stood between Aerys and Elia, wearing the falling star of House Dayne.  Rhaella wondered why her paranoid husband allowed the knight so close until she studied his face, he was as much Rhaegar as Jon was; his silver hair with its black streak made him even more like Rhaegar. Shame, Rhaenys could not marry this man she drew strength from. Still, that needed an answer, why did he look like Rhaegar?

The remaining five Kingsguards stood in protective positions to allow this reunion of House Targaryen. The queen guessed Lord Commander Hightower and Sir Oswell Whent were watching more intently to see the boy they had watched over for their Prince.

Jon walked out of the bowels of the ship slowly and cautiously, like a Direwolf exiting a den, knowing it was not safe.  He looked around, noting everyone within sight. His survey of the ship and the dock stopped as his eyes landed on Aerys.  Why did the king come to the port? Was his freedom about to evaporate?

Daenerys was not far behind the boy she adored. She would hold his hand if it would not put him in danger from her father, nephew or anyone who would harm him for touching her.  She was happy to endure this distance because she would soon be explaining Jon was not suffering anything more for any reason.  She realised she would need convince her father to change his mind about who she would be marrying.

Aegon, the real one, walked calmly and self-assured behind his aunt and his friend.  He dragged the unsure Visenya with him by a hand.  They received more curious stares than even the free prisoner boy who had returned with the queen and princess. Egg searched the crowd for his mother and sister and quickly found his mother’s loving gaze as she saw him.

“Who do you think that blue boy is with them?” Rhaenys asked Darkstar, she felt him shrug and heard him grunt.  She looked up and saw him staring at her mother and how happy Elia looked when she saw the blue haired lad.

Darkstar wanted to be happy to see his brothers again, but after looking at how joyous Princess Elia gazed at her other son, his mood darkened. Elia looked like all her dreams had been answered by this boy’s appearance. The woman wouldn’t even touch his arm when she discovered he was her son, but she gazes eyes full of love at this strange boy who had as yet done nothing to prove his dedication to her.

It did not matter, Darkstar would introduce himself to Jon and then they could leave this cesspit of a realm and the shit people who floated around in it. He would take Jon north and they would find Aerion and never see any of these people who could not care for them ever again.

Arthur and Barristan walked down the gangplank first to protect the royal personages leaving the ship. Arthur recognised Darkstar and knew he had disobeyed, he understood but worried for what mischief the lad had wrought.  As he looked pained to see his womb twin Arthur guessed something had turned Jon’s elder brother cold to these people.

“Sister, my queen.” Aerys opened his arms to embrace his wife, Rhaella looked at him and wondered what had happened while she was away. She however went into his embrace so she could have quick short words to him.

“We will deal with so many things, as soon as we are in the Keep.” She growled into his ear.  Aerys knew she would not be happy with him. She must have wondered about the blue haired boy.

“Come family, we will go have a celebration of your matriarch’s return. Everything is set.”  Aerys turned and declared to his gathered family. To freak them out even more, he continued. “Your guests are welcome to eat with us too.”

“Then you will need set a few extra places.” Jon watched the queen spin a face as Arthur had informed him, she did, to land on her feet and not allow Aerys’ strange behaviour to off balance her. “Jon, dear could you go get Missandei and her mistress, they will be joining us too. Egg, do drag Lady Visenya with you, it currently looks like she is loath to step off the ship. Aerys’ my brother, you don’t mind Lady Blackfyre joining do you?” Aerys’ left eye twitched but he shook his head.

“I said all your travelling companions, my queen.”  She could hear the clenched teeth at those words.

“Good. It is lovely to be home on Westerosi soil.” None of the welcomers knew how true those words were for the queen.

Just beyond the port stood carriages to carry the royal family to the Red Keep, Jon and Visenya looked curious to why they should ride in a carriage, Egg encouraged his ‘cousin’ to join him as he felt slightly nervous to be invited into Princess Elia’s carriage. He was the centre of Elia’s attention from the moment he stepped onto the deck, but as much as he wanted it, he was wary.  For one thing Prince Aegon sat in the carriage and Rhaenys looked more interested in the knight standing beside it.

Visenya shook her head and climbed into the carriage that held Jon, Geron and the shrouded woman and her interpreter. Princess Elia was calling for ‘Griff’ to join her, to the confusion of her children. “Mother, why are you trying to get the sellsword to join us?” Aegon inquired.

“Why is Darkstar still so sullen?” Rhaenys asked. She had asked him to join them in the carriage but he had given a curt shake of his head and stepped away from the carriage.  She did not understand why he would prefer to walk than ride.

“Why do you two worry about un-important people?” Aegon asked, “Daenerys should ride with me.”

“She should.” Arianne cooed to calm the prince.

“Darkstar is not unimportant.” Rhaenys growled at her brother. “Of course Daenerys would ride with her parents and brother.” Rhaenys wondered why Aegon acted so hormone driven when Arianne had been scratching his itches.

Aerys did not wish this mess to explode in public so he dashed everyone’s hopes of reunion by declaring the ‘strangers’ would share a carriage with each other, which they had expected but not to have Egg rejected by the king. Daenerys shared hers with her brother and parents, but all could see her attention was elsewhere. Aegon stared daggers at the Boy returned and the blue -haired one who had his mother’s attention.  Visenya got an appreciative assessing glance though.

“See, marry Aegon, and get the throne.” Jon enlightened Vy to her audience.

Egg, stared back at his imposter with warning. “I will cut his eyes out for his obvious lechery.” He said to the girl who was using his shoulder as a shield.

“I am unsure I want it that terribly.” The ‘Prince’ reminded her of her father, Aegon Blackfyre, son of Baela Blackfyre, brother of Daemon Blackfyre. She could go on reminding herself of her lineage right back to the original Daemon Blackfyre, son of Aegon the Unworthy, fourth of his name. She did not because pride of family was not what her father drilled into her, desire for the throne was.

“I do not like the look of him.” Egg told his carriage mates.

“He is alright.” Jon spoke to the surprise of the others. “Given the chance to please Aerys and burn my arm he refused.  He has some redeeming traits.”

“Would you prefer him to me?” Egg asked the boy he had grown to like as a possible groom for his aunt.

“Not necessarily.” Jon shrugged, he was just saying Aegon of Dragonstone was not a terrible person.  No one knew how Aerys was going to deal with the Aegons so it was best not to commit to a side.

“Who is your favourite Aegon?” Egg asked. Jon found it strange but when contemplating that question, he found his eyes stray to the knight walking beside Princess Elia’s carriage.  It wasn’t for his expression because he looked wrathful. Visenya’s eyes followed Jon’s and she gazed at the knight and thought he reminded her of someone.  She knew no one in Westeros so why would he seem familiar?

“You are Egg.” Visenya supported her ‘çousin’.

“What do you think… our Lady?” Jon tried to involve their Astapor rescuer. She shook her head.

“My lady, knows nothing of Westerosi politics or Houses.” Missandei replied for her.

“Do you and your lady have plans past tomorrow as it would be rude for the royals to kick you out tonight?” Jon asked, he had no idea of his own accommodation, but he found he was worried for the highborn lady and her interpreter.

“No.  My lady has some gold to set herself up, I suppose we will start that. Accommodation to start then we will see.”

The common folk stared amazed to see the royal family out in full force, stopped their tasks and just watched them drive by. 

“How was Essos, sister?” Viserys tried to break the weird uncomfortable silence. Daenerys shrugged too busy gazing off down the line of carriages. “I see you found something pretty to bring back.” She was so enthralled by the lad she nodded. “You might need to find a title for whatever task you have assigned him, so Aegon doesn’t think you went to Essos to buy a pleasure slave to replace him in your marriage bed.”

Aerys smiled at his son but saw Viserys audience was drowning in her adoration of the Black Cell lad. He liked that Daenerys was wise enough to see Jon was the best marriage prospect, but still worried for Aerion’s reaction to her. “I hope you have not sent me into poverty with your spending in Essos, my queen.”

“You should worry for things I picked up in Essos, my king.” Rhaella let him hear the flames of her anger at him.  How had he allowed this mess to happen with these boys? She was livid he knew about Egg and had never sent for the lad in the decade he could have. She glanced at her grandson, the one who was dressed as a prince, he did not deserve what was about to explode on him.

“I understand the young people, kind of.  But what is with the lady covered in scarves?” Viserys thought the others may end up a mire of trouble for someone he knew, though not who that was and why. The foreign woman however seemed not to be part of the Targaryen quagmire, she might just be a safe subject.

“She is escaping an evil husband.” Daenerys joined the carriage, because no matter how hard she wished, she was in this carriage and Jon was in that one far back there.

“Evil husband? She better not bring us war.” Aerys squinted at his wife, what had she done?

“I highly doubt he would imagine she got all the way to Westeros and would not be looking for her here. Not that I know if he is looking for her at all.”

“Is she hideous and scarred under there?” Aerys tried to get a good look at the woman.

“Why would you ask that?” Rhaella was confounded by her husband’s mind sometimes.

“Daenerys said she was escaping an evil husband. Evil husbands can be known as that because they harm their wives, giving them hideous scars. I am not being insane.”

Amazingly. Rickard sighed.

I know it is quite unexpected for me to not be insane. Aerys nodded at his friend; glad Rickard was always around to understand him.

“Aerys, do you understand who those children are?”

“Of course, I do that is why I separated everyone.  There are going to need to be some hairy explanations, we cannot do that out in the open.” Aerys then smiled warmly at Daenerys. “Did you find everything you wanted in Essos, Sweetling?”

“Yes. I am just waiting to see if I get to keep them.”

“We will try for our little princess.” Aerys grinned as he reached over to pat her arm. His family stared at him in confoundment, why was he acting like this and not himself?

“Find accommodations for my wife’s guests from Essos.” Aerys said as he alighted the carriage to the waiting Varys. “Sir Dayne, and Sir Selmy will stow themselves in the Kingguards tower then with Sir Hightower and Sir Whent will guard the guests of my beloved sister.” The king got nods of acceptance from the two knights, and they moved away to follow his commands.

Aegon, Prince of Dragonstone gazed at his grandfather with question. “Grandfather, that is four of your seven kingsguards is that not excessive?” It left the royal family under protected.

“How wise you are.” Aerys smiled at the boy raised as his grandson but was not related to him. “Darkstar, you can replace the Lord Commander, though I would prefer he was in that guard detail, he should be with me.  There Aegon, four kingguards to three and a substitute do you feel safe now?” This would also be a kindness to Darkstar, Aerys was sure Elia’s affectionate gazes at Blue Aegon were not missed by her Eldest Aegon.

Blue? What a ridiculous colour for hair. Aerys would need that changed, or his paranoia might convince him the lad was a trick of Aerion’s.

“No.” There were still too many guards for nobodies.

“No.” Rhaenys agreed with her brother for another reason, Aerys came to stand before his granddaughter and took her right hand.

“Do you not feel safe, my girl?” Aerys asked softly and shocked his wife.

Viserys leaned to speak to his mother and sister. “He has become very affectionate of Rhaenys in your absence.  Even freed her to marry of her own choice.” Rhaella could not believe it, what had happened?

“I just feel safer knowing Darkstar is close at hand.” Rhaenys saw her mother’s worry for her statement.

“Rhaenys may choose a Dornish husband even if Uncle Oberyn would prefer a different House. I would also be calmer with Darkstar around.” Arianne almost purred. Darkstar looked disgusted by her words and moved to stand nearer his father’s other son.

Rhaenys sighed at Arianne trying to collect her own little harem around her; Daenerys should worry as Arianne probably wanted to ride the Black Cell Boy too. The princess thought maybe it would be just easier to save herself and Viserys, elope and lie about the consummation of the marriage.  But she also saw the hungry look Arianne sent to the blue boy in the other carriage. Viserys was about the only man Arianne did not look at lustfully. “Rys, I think I might agree to your plan.”

“It was an excellent plan, Nys.” Viserys smiled at his niece.

Off to the side, Jon looked over the new addition to their group; like Visenya, Jon saw a resemblance to and felt a knowledge of this dour knight. “Do I know you?”

Darkstar looked at his younger brother, shaking his head. “You lived in a hole in Westeros, and I was contained in High Hermitage.” Both prisoners of their mad grandfather’s schemes.  Darkstar huffed heavily. How pitiful is it that Aerys has been the most attentive of our relatives and he isn’t even a relative.

Aerys glanced to the Aegons huddled away from the known Targaryens, probably the best Targaryens in the city, excluding his girls: Rhaella, Rhaenys and Daenerys.  Rickard shook his head sadly at the isolated boys that should have grown up safe together, he had wronged his grandsons badly, even if none of them were his grandsons, he knew like Rhaenys, true heritage had not given them any better option than him. I am sorry, Rickard.

Don’t be sorry Aerys, be better. Rickard exhaled disappointed in the state of the realm. Can I give you one advice?

I will always listen to your counsel Rickard. Aerys smiled suddenly for no reason.

You are mad but do not be stupid. Aerys expression turned to offended. You cannot stop being mad, but if ever you need to try, be as sane as you can for your family.  All of them.

Even the false ones?! Aerys asked shocked by the suggestion, he watched his northern friend nod.

Only your sister and your children are true family. Aerion will appreciate your attempt to be kind to these lost children. Redeem yourself, Aerys.

Aerys looked contemplative; the audience accepted he was probably having a conversation with himself. With a nod and determined expression on his features he seemed to return to the world everyone else existed in. “Lord Varys, find a guest apartment for these youngsters to share, any one of the one’s used for visiting Lords will be appropriate.  Make sure their belongings are brought from the ship.” He looked at Rhaella. “Varys.”

“My king.” Varys bowed to his king, Aerys smiled but then he saw Jon’s expression and looked at the servitor again, his smile melted. What is Jon thinking about Varys?  He would need ask him.

“The dinner celebration for our queen’s return will included all our guests. Have the servants told to set enough places.  Also, have someone come get these children better clothes.  They will be dining with their king and queen; they cannot do so dressed in those rags.” Aerys then took his daughter’s hand and walked away with her. “Bring your mother, Viserys.”

Elia turned to approach her son, but her other son stood there next to these strange youths, she saw his boiling anger and walked away with her raised children, though as usual, Rhaenys looked back to Darkstar. Why is she so dependent on her brother?

“Why would grandfather ask those unsightly youths to dine with us?” Aegon exploded as soon as they closed their mother’s door.

“Because they are obviously related to powerful people.” Rhaenys answered her brother.

“Why do you say that?” Her mother asked with concern.

“Having met House Stark, it is obvious the Black Cell Boy is related to Lord Stark.  The golden boy looks like a Lannister. The Silver haired girl is a Valyrian and as close as she is to the blue-haired boy, they must be related so are probably related to our House.”

“Do you have an idea about the covered woman?”

“She I think is new and she is obviously wealthy.” Aegon looked confounded to his sister’s assumptions. “The yacht must be hers and she wears a great amount of gold.  Her coverings are extensive, but they are all of fine materials, not cheap.  If planning a wedding has told me anything, it is the worth of different materials.  Her clothes are expensive.”

“I wonder why she came and what is to happen with her?” Arianne said curiously as she sat.

“Maybe someone wrote to Grandmother in Essos.”

“What do you mean, Rhaenys?”

“Well, Grandmother has always had a sweet spot for Viserys, she might have bought him a different wife.” Arianne looked surprised by the thought. Rhaenys did not believe the woman was here for any such reason but she was tired of her cousin disregarding Viserys.

“I am sure that is not true.” Elia assured Arianne. “Rhaenys why did you say such a thing?” Elia was disappointed her daughter had been acting out. It wasn’t like Elia did not have enough to worry about with all the Aegons.

“Because Lord Varys has birds everywhere and he probably knows ten of everyone’s secrets that could see Grandfather set us aflame.” It was inconceivable that King Aerys did not have a suspicion of Aegon and Arianne’s activities.

“What secrets could Lord Varys have that would cause Viserys to be given another wife?” Elia knew it did not matter what secrets Varys knew Arianne would never marry Viserys. Aerys had made promises.

A knock on the door revealed Prince Oberyn and his family. Lady Cersei entered with her arm protectively around Jo’Hannah’s shoulders as Oberyn strode into the room. Stefan followed and sat down to allow his father to act like he had more power than he did.

Stefan shook his head with embarrassment. Why does he think he can herd Dragons? Doran would be telling Oberyn to sit down and stop puffing up his chest if he was not on his way back to Dorne.  Most likely the Water Gardens rather than Sunspear, Doran was becoming complacent about Dorne’s internal politics.

“What is it I hear that Aerys is hosting a dinner to celebrate the Queen’s return?”

“Mother, I and Jo’Hannah have received an invitation.” Stefan enlightened his other relatives to what Oberyn was enquiring about.

“Oberyn has been excluded.” Cersei said with a smile. “Perhaps you should see if Ellaria Sand wants to spend some time with you.” Cersei had realised many years ago that Oberyn was more interested in Ellaria’s thighs than his marriage to her.  Ellaria was the perfect paramour she was willing to share so long as she got her piece of fun and entertainment.  Cersei’s husband would go to pleasure houses with Ellaria, and they would gorge themselves on their orgies. Even Robert Baratheon and his appetites might have been better than this. Then how would she know? The imagined alternate is always better than the reality of the now.

“Is Ellaria in Kings Landing?” His sister had not seen Oberyn’s favourite paramour.

“Oh yes, she has a pillowed bed reserved at the finest Pleasure House in the city, so she and Oberyn can get straight into their debauchery.”

“Cersei our children are in the room.”

“Stefan, Jo’Hannah, you father is a whore.” Cersei explained to her children.

“Mother, that I not very respectful.” Stefan waggled his finger. “Father is not a whore.” He told his little sister.

“Thank you.” Oberyn glared at his wife, he grinned at her because her precious Stefan had sided with him.

“Whore is the wholly incorrect term. Whores are paid, Father is not paid, he is the one who pays. Father is a slut.” Oberyn went a deep red with his anger.

“You…”

“What?” Stefan stood up and tapped his own chest. “Try it.” Of course, everyone knew Oberyn would not, the prince was a great fighter, nimble and tactical, but Stefan would only need contact once to win the fight.

“Worry not Uncle, I will be there, Dorne will have representation.” Arianne assured her uncle she would carry the House into this dinner.

Aegon stared at his cousin, coming to a realisation, Arianne was manipulating.  He had brushed his own ego thinking she had betrayed Viserys because she was enraptured by him, but he finally saw Arianne went whichever way was best for Dorne,.  She had ogled Robb Stark;  was always smirking at Gerold Dayne.  He had watched her look over all the young men who arrived with his grandmother.

“Maybe it is a Dornish thing to not be faithful to marriage. I mean all Dornish people can’t be sluts.” Aegon was thinking a good many of them were.

“Now, Nephew.” Cersei gave Aegon a stern look. “Your only example is your relatives, maybe it is just House Martell.”

“Well, maybe Aunt Cersei. After all House Dayne seems faithful to their marriages.”

“That is not necessarily a good example.” Cersei countered.

“We only have Lady Ashara as an example there, due to Darkstar being unwed and Sir Arthur is a Kingsguard.  Lady Ashara could be because she was lucky enough to get a Stark husband.” Jo’Hannah counselled her cousin.  Cersei placed her hands over her heart and wore an expression of pride at her daughter’s words.

“I am so proud.” Cersei kissed her daughter’s head. “I will make sure I get you a Stark husband.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“It is the least I can do for my daughter to save her my terrible life.”

“Cersei!” Oberyn was used to Cersei and the way she lamented her life as his wife, he was not used to her doing it with an audience, usually she only had her children to lament to, as she did not leave Sunspear often.

“Husband, I am only preparing our children for the world.”

“By insulting me?”

Cersei looked thoughtful for a moment. “You are correct. Children, your father is not as bad as I complain.” Oberyn eyed her suspiciously, waiting for the next barb. “We could have been cursed with someone far worse.”

“Your father did have you marrying Robert Baratheon until his execution.” Elia pointed out.

“Do we really know he would be worse?” Oberyn glared at his wife.

“You are right he took the realms to blood for a girl. Who knows how long he would have mourned her. He may have been just as morally loose as Oberyn, but at least my husband had a culture to back him up in his infidelity.” Cersei nodded as if she had come to a peace with her marital situation and her husband’s infidelity. “I am not saying I will stop gnawing on you, just you aren’t the worse man in the Seven Kingdoms. I also am happy for you and Ellaria, at least one of us found love.”

“Sometimes Cersei you are a difficult woman.”

“Still, your wife and children will attend and think of you, but not what you are doing.  Also, Oberyn you get to spend the evening with someone you like, we...” she pointed at the others, “… must endure the dangerous prospect of dinner with the insane king.  You may be less family by midnight.”

“So, long as it is you that I am less.”

“They bicker and snap, but they do have a lovely understanding that neither wanted this marriage and they both have to survive it.” Stefan said to his sister.

“They truly are role models for making a situation you don’t like bearable.” Jo’Hannah replied.

“See that.” Elia pointed at her nephew and niece. “Whatever you have failed to have or do, the two of you raised good children. Cersei, my brother may not be the best husband in the realms, but he is still a good man. Oberyn, Cersei may gripe about you, but she has not caused issue with you having your own entertainments, she has never blamed your Sand daughters that her marriage is loveless.”

“Actually, I respect that he is inclusive of them.  I do not like that Oberyn has had half the women in Dorne.”

“Half the women of… I have not had that many.”

“Still, he takes responsibility for all his offspring. He shouldn’t have them, but at least he cares for them.” Cersei could praise her husband for his responsibility when it came to his children.

“Stop it.” Oberyn said to his wife. “It is disturbing when you aren’t being catty towards me.”

“Where is Sir Darkstar Dayne?” Cersei changed the subject to watch Elia’s muscles freeze. Cersei had noted Elia’s stalled relations with her hidden son.

“Something has befallen him.” Rhaenys frowned. “He has been acting burned but will not enlighten me to how. I wish he would.”

“Why do we care for a loyal knight and his feelings?” Aegon inquired of his sister.  He had not seen the point of his grandfather making this Gerold Dayne the duty of protecting his mother.  He was grateful for Sir Dayne had taken license to even pull the king in when it came to Princess Elia. He however, still found Rhaenys’ attachment to the knight confounding.

“Darkstar was always dour and cynical.” Arianne gave her knowledge of the man.

“We care because he is loyal.” Rhaenys glared at her brother. “Sometimes I wonder if we are even related Aegon.” She shook her head in disappointment was she the only one who appreciated Darkstar?  Well, her Aunt Cersei and her children seemed to also find him worthy of their thoughts.

“Maybe I have been influenced too much by Grandfather and Uncle Viserys.” They were not great role models of how to interact with people.  Aegon thought it unfair people expected him to be like his father, Prince Rhaegar when he had no contact with the man.

“Stop using that as excuse. Don’t blame others for your shortcomings brother.  You can think for yourself, almost a man grown, act like it.  Remember when you refused to set that boy’s arm alight for grandfather? Well, be like that. That day you proved yourself a son of a great man.”

“I will try harder, sister.” A king would be independent. Aegon looked at his uncle and cousin, he might need to step on a few blood-related toes to be a great king. There were times he wished he did not have the pressure of being the next king. The burden was heavy, and he wondered some days if he had the strength required.

“I have no doubt.” Rhaenys smiled warmly at her brother.  She knew he had far too many people to please.

Elia watched and listened to her children; she was proud of them.  She did worry for when it was revealed Aegon, wasn’t Aegon. How would the boy take it? She worried he would be so wrathful he would allow his temper to go unchecked, her real Aegon could be in danger.  Would Darkstar defend his real brother?

“As lovely as this is, those of us with a royal invitation should get ready for that.” Cersei guessed tonight would be full of fireworks.  Especially as Elia’s real Aegon had come home, a least Cersei guessed the Blue haired-boy was the disguised Aegon, The Martells had stolen from Elia to keep him safe.  Elia needed better brothers. Brothers. Cersei thought of her brothers the one she wished dead, was alive and the one she wished to be alive had paid for their House’s rebellion.

The ‘guests’ looked around the expansive apartments they had been given to stay in.  They were usually used for visiting lords as they had several bed chambers and small common area, even a small balcony.  The furnishings were opulent compared to what most of the youths were used to.  Geron had seen this level of wealth but not lived it; only their rescuer had experienced this before.

After deciding who was to sleep where, the youths started to explore their chambers.  Jon’s first stop was to greet Sir Whent due to the separation while he was in Essos.  Whent was always the comical one, so Jon was glad to see him.  Then as if drawn he approached the knight that was substituted for Sir Hightower.

“Good day to you.” Jon bowed his head to the man wearing House Dayne’s standard on his shoulder. Egg looked across from where he stood with Geron and without cause walked toward the same knight, Geron followed because he of all these people knew the danger of the knight.

Darkstar looked as all his family in this room gravitated to stand before him with curious faces. “Good day to all of you young Targaryens.”

Oswell Whent’s head swung to take in who heard those words. “Darkstar.” He growled a warning to the knight.

“I am not sure who I am, so please do not repeat Geron’s idea that as I grew in the Red Keep I am of House Targaryen.” Jon knew both Arthur’s and Geron’s tales said he was a Targaryen, but he did not wish any to talk about it.

“That is a brilliant connection.” Darkstar nodded to the Lion.

“Following War rather than Knowledge did not make me stupid.” Geron answered the compliment. “Seems Knowledge might be a bit warlike this world.”

“When you spend eons at someone’s side you get some rub off.” Darkstar shrugged.

“Not having the right childhood can also soak away your mercy and joy.”

“Some of us needed better mothers.” Darkstar knew in worlds where Geron got to have his perfect parents, he had a different experience to Darkstar, but Elia was just bad news for the first son of House Targaryen. He looked over to the ‘foreign’ visitors.

 “My Mistress does not care about your realms intrigues and secrets.” Missandei informed the white knight.  She had become extraordinarily close to Daenerys and the princess had confided of the theory of why Jon was so important.

“See, Whent, no one cares.”  Darkstar thought the Blue Aegon maybe the only one who did not know who Jon potentially was. “And the Mad One will probably reveal all the dirty secrets he can to unbalance his other guests.”

“That is not a complimentary reference: Mad One. I have heard he may remove your head for such.” Egg tried to defend his unknown grandfather.

“You don’t get brownie points unless he can hear you defend him and as he is mad, he may deduct points if he suspects you are tricking him.  He can really go any way on anything.”  Darkstar knew his neck was safe, after all he was the real Aegon.

“My name is Jon Snow.” Jon thrust out his hand and Darkstar smiled down at it; after a few seconds he took it and shook it.

“People call me Gerold Dayne, or Darkstar.”

“I am glad to make your acquaintance … Sir Dayne.” Jon looked uncomfortable.

“Seems wrong does it, after knowing Arthur Dayne to call anyone else Sir Dayne?”  Jon nodded; the title did not feel right. “Most call me Darkstar.”

“Are you Princess Rhaenys’ betrothed?” Egg asked, he had seen how his sister gazed with warm love at the knight.  On the ride through the city from the dock, the princess had barely taken her eyes off the knight except if she seemed to be snapping at the Prince of Dragonstone.

Darkstar coughed uncomfortably, Whent grinned at his reaction to the question. “I am not.  She is currently unbetrothed and seeking a husband.”

“Oh, so you are her lover, or is it paramour in Dorne?” Egg asked to know what the lay of the land was with his family.

“No!” Darkstar said at an increased volume. “I protect her, she needed a better brother than she has.”

“She will getting one.” Egg planned to be the perfect brother for the sister he had missed for all his life.

“You don’t plan to marry her as per tradition do you Blue Boy?” Blue eyes narrowed as they awaited the answer.  Egg could see he must answer in the negative to keep whatever limb this Darkstar was thinking of removing from him.

“I haven’t even met her, who knows what she will think of me.” Egg tried to save himself.

“You are not her type of husband.” Darkstar shut down any thought on this boy’s part of stealing Rhaenys’ chances to have her Wonky Legged Lord.

“Well, hopefully someone will come to release the beautiful princess from the Red Keep.” Jon said to calm the tension. “You could help us with this dinner, who is Prince Viserys’ wife?”

“He is unwed, his betrothed is Princess Arianne of Dorne.” Whent answered the question.

“Poor man, she is a good daughter.” Darkstar shook his head sadly for his uncle’s life, even if he wasn’t his uncle and could be a real prick, Viserys should have a more loyal bride.

“Let us not gossip.” Whent counselled because he knew Darkstar’s opinion of House Martell.

“What gossip? She has propositioned me three times this week alone. I believe her bed was cooling because Prince Aegon had royal duties as Crowned Prince, causing him to get up and get dress leaving her alone for five minutes.”

“Gerold.” Arthur’s voice came from behind him, filled with disappointment.

“I refused her.” He defended himself.

“You were to stay in Dorne.”

“Oh, I do not recall…”

Arthur’s lavender eyes were hard as he glared at Darkstar. “Gerold.”

Barristan came into the room, giving all the youths a once over, his eyes stopped on Gerold, he raised an eyebrow and looked at Arthur. “Another one?”

“The first one, unfortunately as stubborn as his father.” Arthur answered Barristan’s question.  It seemed now he had seen Jon and recognised a true son of Rhaegar; Barristan would know them all by sight.

“As funny as the mother I was supposed to have.” Darkstar grinned at Arthur.

“I told you I hated when he got involved.” Geron nodded to Sir Arthur. “I was amazed Westeros was still here.”

“Hey! Name once that I …” Darkstar arced up at the criticism.

“Field of fire.” Geron eyed him.

“Well, I had help that time.” Darkstar nodded. “Also, I was encouraged by a bad influence.  Peer pressure.”

“Entropy that is what they should call you.”

“Do not test me Lion, I do not have a great sense of humour.”

“Do not mess with my king… I mean Prince.”

“I am here to help, not hinder.”

“That is what I am afraid of.” Geron shook his head and left the room to prepare for the dinner they had been sequestered to.

“Alright, children go get ready to dine with the King and his Queen.” Arthur got the group to ready themselves.

“I don’t know if I really should attend.” Jon said quietly to Arthur when the others dispersed.

“House Dayne will stick a sword through any who try to harm you.” Darkstar declared.

Arthur wondered if Geron was right, Darkstar was sure to be trouble. “I will serve my vow to your parents; you will be fine. Go.” Jon did not look confident, but he went to his designated room. Arthur turned to Darkstar. “What are you doing?”

“I was protecting my mother.  I am protecting my sister and vowing to defend my brother.” Darkstar could be his true age as Arthur had no delusion to how old he was.

“Was protecting your mother? Why was your mother but still am your sister.” Arthur had expected Darkstar to latch onto Jon as soon as they met as his relatives in High Hermitage had voiced concerned by how attached Gerold seemed to the idea of the boy he never knew.

“You were right, Arthur, I should not have come, Aerys slipped, and she found out who I was.” Arthur stood gazing at the lad, he saw the pain, the hurt. He saw the same depression he had seen in Rhaegar in the end, when he felt lost, before Lyanna had come to sunshine a sun on his existence.

“What was her reaction?” Elia may be his princess being a Martell, but Arthur had seen a side of House Martell that made his glad he swore to the Kingsguard and no longer owed them loyalty.  Elia was not as bad as her brothers, but she was not innocent.

“Watch how she accepts Blue Boy, it was nothing like that.” Darkstar looked away before his façade of age completely fell away and he showed the emotion of pain. “Mothers really aren’t worth shit.” He whispered to himself.

“She rejected you?” Surely Elia had not, Darkstar may be dark, but he was a devoted lad, the depth of his devotion to his blood was why he was such a concern.  Darkstar would lay waste to the world for those he loved.  Arthur had to hope Aerys little fun night did not reveal Darkstar as the true Aegon. Gerold did not need the extra burden, especially if his only living parent had rejected him.

“You sound surprised.” Darkstar turned back and Arthur saw the boy trying to pull himself together after admitting his mother had loved him no more than his Dayne caretakers had.

“I am sorry Gerold. I should have …”

“There was nothing to change.” Darkstar removed himself to stand by the door, his mother only cared for him to do his duty as a Dayne, maybe he should immerse himself in the role.

After several minutes, Darkstar felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned to see the golden Geron. “Don’t say anything Lion.”

“I am sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I know Elia can be a better mother than this.  I am sorry because it was probably Jaime’s death that took that piece you needed.  House Lannister is responsible for much pain, yet Tywin suffers so little.” Geron growled hatred over his grandfather’s name.

“I just wanted …” Darkstar sighed instead of finishing his sentence, so very done with the world and its people.

“Cheer up!” Geron said to get an annoyed expression from Darkstar. “I bought your elder home to make you feel all the safety, warmth and loved these people of politics have refused to give you.  Tell Jon and he will be on your side.  Tell him, and Jon will be your champion.”

Jon walked up to hear the last bit of Geron’s pep talk and thought his friend was being presumptuous. “I plan to never battle again, now I am free of being a fighting slave.” Geron and the knight called Darkstar gazed quietly for a minute then both broke out in laughter. “I can be peaceful!” Jon defended himself; he could control his rage.

“You may be peaceful, but you will still need to fight in the future.” Geron clapped his friend on the back.

Jon turned his attention to the knight. “What kind of man are you Darkstar?”

“Why?”

“I am current looking for a new best friend,” he glared at the non-repentant Geron. “You could be that new best friend.”

“I could, but Lion here is not your best friend he is your truest friend.”

“Well, he is irritating me right now, so I am scouting out other options.”

“I would be honoured to be your friend.”

“Good.” Jon leaned in close to Darkstar, being a Dayne he wondered if Arthur had revealed who Jon was to this man. “What do you know about my story?”

Darkstar smiled at his little brother, Jon was always searching out his battlegrounds. “I know who your parents were and that you are obviously smitten with the silver princess.”

Jon jerked back. “I don’t believe I am …” Jon shook his head violently he would not put his girl of Honey and Roses in danger, by admitting that.

“Don’t learn to lie, she hates people lying.” Darkstar warned his brother, not that Daenerys had proven to hate liars, he would do her this service.

“It would not be safe.” Jon said quietly.

“For the boy or man standing between you and your ladylove or who exactly are we fearful would get injured.” Darkstar thought Aegon the Crown Prince should be careful, Jon was a good fighter, his sword skills excelled what should be possible for the boy.

“I worry for her.”

“Do not fear for her, that girl can move mountains if she puts her mind to it.” Darkstar smiled.

Blue Aegon came out of his room and went straight to the door and the gathering youth group. “Hail.” He looked warily at the knight.

“Hail.” Darkstar greeted his twin cordially. Geron was right just being around Jon brightened his demeanour, also he had shared nine months in an adjoining room to this boy.  It was not Aegon Number Two’s fault their mother loved him more than Darkstar.

“House Dayne.” Egg pointed at the crest on his shoulder.

“Well done.”

“My guardian made sure I had a good education of my realm.” Egg answered, then looked nervous. “I mean…”

“That you are the hidden in Essos Aegon?” Darkstar asked.  He, as Aegon Number One, had been kept completely up-to-date with all the Aegon intrigue.

“I suppose my uncles would have kept a loyal House informed should it be required they attend to the…”

“Yeah, your uncles did not inform my House. I am not loyal to House Martell.  I was just about to ask Black Cell Boy here to borrow his Direwolf to eat one of them.” Darkstar pointed at Jon, who strangely started to look like he was considering it.

“Jon is my friend; he would not let his Direwolf eat my uncle.” Aegon said with too much confidence, because although Jon was his friend, Aegon was not sure of the landscape, said uncle could have done something to annoy Jon.  Plan to steal Daenerys, as an example. Jon has a Direwolf?

Darkstar smirked at the other Aegon, he had no idea of Jon. Jon was a maelstrom when incited, and Darkstar was sure House Martell had plans that would separate Jon from Daenerys.  Jon would just lay waste to Dorne if they did that.

“Not Starfall or High Hermitage. I like House Dayne. Also, not waste, turn to glass.” Jon nodded as if he was privy to Darkstar’s thoughts.

“Never change, my prince.” Geron laughed as Darkstar smiled. “Universe, the first rule is…”

“No one touches his girl.” Darkstar finished the sentence. “The second rule Universe is …”

“Don’t make him angry.” Geron carried the rules on.

“How you ask? Well…” Darkstar set it up.

“See rule one, keep it.” The golden and silver boys spoke in unison.

“I am not that predictable.” Jon frowned.  He then left the circle to go see Arthur who did not laugh at him half as much as others did.

“So, I am the real Aegon.” Egg said to the knight, to get a bark of laughter. “Maybe you could introduce yourself.”

“People call me Gerold Dayne, or Darkstar.”

“Really?” Egg looked at the knight with suspicion. He took and inhalation and asked his next question, sparked by the last answer. “Does Jon have any Dornish blood?”

“No.” Darkstar wondered why Aegon Number Two would ask that. Geron just doubled over in the ridiculousness of the idea.

“Then how is it you look like you could be brothers?” Egg asked and had the two young knights’ attentions and even Oswell Whent took notice of lad’s observation. 

Oswell looked Gerold ‘Darkstar’ Dayne over closely.  Oswell had not been privy to the secret of Darkstar being the real Aegon but as he scrutinised the younger knight, he saw it – Darkstar was Rhaegar’s son too.  The jaw, the brow. How many Aegons are there? One more than Oswell had previously known.  He must speak to Arthur about this, as this boy had been hidden as a Dayne, he guessed his fellow knew all about it.

“Unless you have … no I have no idea of Jon’s parents so cannot name the other side.”

“How perceptive.” Darkstar’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes, my perceptiveness brings me another question. What is going on between you and my sister, Rhaenys?”

“Are you going to give me ‘The Talk’?” Darkstar smiled at the lad who was his maternal twin.

“No, I just thought you might be able to give me an idea of her.” Egg looked like Darkstar once had – when he wanted his mother to accept him, as with Rhaenys he could be kind to his sibling because as yet they had not rejected him.

“I protect her.”

“She was very concerned it seemed on the ride here for you.”

“She is in possession of a great heart.”

“I think there is more to the story than that.” Egg was sure there was, he also saw somewhere deep this knight was wounded.  Egg did not know why, but he felt he did not like the idea of this man being wounded.  His eyes had wandered to escape the intensity of his mother’s gazes on that wharf and he had found they had almost sought this man to feel comfort.  It was strange.

“Time to go.” Visenya said curtly as she walked quickly between her room and the front door.  Egg stood mouth agape at his ‘cousin’, he had never seen her dressed as a lady and he was amazed how much it suited her. “Let’s go boys!” Visenya kept her eyes on the floor, not wanting to see these boys who knew her laughing at how stupid she looked.

“Wow, Lady Vy, you look like a Targaryen princess.” Jon said what everyone was thinking.

Blue eyes snapped up and tried to burn him with a death glare. “Funny.  I know this does not suit me.  This is what they sent for me to wear.” She grabbed material and tried to move the dress with bare strength. “It fits strangely.  I look like a soldier dressed as a prince, totally wrong.”

Darkstar reached forward to remove her tearing hands from herself. “My lady, you look like a princess, dressed as a lady.  Stop wrestling with your clothes, they are perfectly fine.”

Visenya glared at this new person. “And who are you?” She snapped, being dressed like this and feeling self-conscious was making her crabby.

“Gerold Dayne.” Darkstar bowed to the lady.

“Well…” She would remind this knight she was not a silly girl, but battle-hardened. Her thoughts stopped however on his name. “You don’t look like a Gerold.”

“What does a Gerold look like?” He asked with a smile.

“I don’t know, but it does not suit you.” How dare he question her, she was Lady Vy Blackfyre of the Golden Company.

“Well, it is how I am known. Or by the name Darkstar.”

“That is slightly better.” She conceded with a nod. When her head came back up her eyes were hard sapphires. “If you ever place hands on me again, I will cut pieces off you and not the piece you touched me with.”

“Vy!” Egg did not know it was wise for her to speak like that to a stranger. “Maybe not alienate everybody we meet.”

“It is alright.” Darkstar stood back. “It was inappropriate of me to lay hands on the lady, and now I know the lady is not to be trifled with.” Darkstar turned to lead the guests to the dinner.

“You do look lovely.” Egg spoke low into his cousin’s ear.

“Thank you, I feel unsure, now we are here.” She whispered back.

Jon bumped her shoulder with his. “I thought nothing could defeat the great Lady Vy.”

“Turns out pretty, flowing dresses did it.” She admitted.

“Egg is right your look great.  Don’t forget, you are the girl who is going to get the Iron Throne for House Blackfyre.”

“You said it was ugly.”

“It is, you will hate it.  Waste of good swords.” Jon nodded and not one of their party entered the dinner without a smile on their face.

Crowned Prince Aegon had come to escort his betrothed, Princess Daenerys to the dinner.  He wished she had not given him a confounded expression when he explained why he was at her door.  He also wished she had not made him stay out in the hall while he waited, every servant gave him a judging glance. Or he was getting paranoid like his grandfather the king.

Every woman in his family was acting strange.  His sister was overly concerned by the knight of House Dayne who was protecting his mother. The only reason his betrothed was not watching that prisoner boy with giant love smitten eyes was the lad was not here. His mother was too interested in the blue-haired lad who came from Essos. Princess Arianne was hanging off Viserys like she had been spending the nights since her arrival in his bed not Aegon’s; but looked at Sir Dayne and all the boys from the ship as if she was stripping them of clothes in her head and mounting up. His Aunt Cersei was dismissive of his Uncle Oberyn and constantly insulting him – no, that was normal. He could not believe he was thanking the Seven for Cersei Lannister-Martell.

When Daenerys emerged, she looked a vision of loveliness he could not believe he would have as his wife. She will be the most beautiful queen. Their children would be adorable.  It was a pity her eyes did not speak of love but tolerance.  Aegon wished he inspired love in her, that her eyes shone with her devotion to him.  He supposed it was only fair her eyes did not say that about him, he doubted his did so for her either.

“I will not be holding your arm.” Daenerys said coldly.

“I am sorry.” His voice was full of regret.

“For what?” Was he about to tell her something was going to befall Jon?

“I know you are not happy to be set to marry me.  I am sorry that is your only option.” He was also sorry it was his only option.

“Things could change.” She was hoping they would.

“That possibility is low.  It is House Targaryen’s tradition. For good or ill.”

“Which tradition are you speaking of?”

“We marry for dynasty, for good or ill.  Despair or ecstasy, our lives serve a throne made of cold steel.” Aegon appeared sullen. “Before you praise my insight and wisdom, it was Darkstar Dayne who said that to Rhaenys.”

“Is he, her beau?” She had taken her eyes off Jon for a few moments and seen the care her niece gazed at the knight with.

“No. She has changed in your absence.  The king has gifted her the freedom to wed whoever she wishes.” Daenerys looked as surprised as she was feeling with that news. “Don’t get excited for yourself, nothing else has been changed. Good or ill.”

Aegon knew the moment the prisoner boy entered the room for the dinner, as Daenerys became enlivened. He wondered if she thought it would eventuate to anything as he would ensure it would not.  Aegon would not allow his wife to have entertainments in their future.  He would send the other young man to The Watch if necessary.

Aerys gazed out over the room and the many untold stories these people had in their lives.  Some did not know their own secrets; some were concerned to them being revealed.  The Mad King was about to make these people very uncomfortable.

“This will be an interesting night.” Aerys smiled as he signalled for the guest to be led to their seats. “So very much fun.”

Chapter Text

The atmosphere in the room was uncomfortable from the first step into it. The table was laid for twenty-one diners. It seemed the young people were the first to arrive.

“Maybe we should just head back out.” Visenya felt even more uncomfortable to know she had to wait on the ‘noble’ guests.

“I thought you wanted to be queen. Don’t baulk now.” Jon teased the girl who had been so determined and untameable in Essos.

“Queen huh?” Darkstar asked. “So, even Blackfyre’s are incestuous.” He gazed pointed at Aegon the Blue haired and Visenya.

“Eeww.” They both said and stepped apart.

“That would be how to be queen, Blackfyre girl.” Darkstar informed her. “Marry the heir to the throne.”

“Make another king.” She pointed at Jon and moved her finger up and down several times.

“Don’t tell me she convinced you to want that ugly thing.”

“What ugly thing?” Aegon of Dragonstone asked as he entered with Daenerys on his arm.

“You.” Darkstar said with no amusement. “Has anyone convinced Princess Daenerys to want you?” Daenerys shook her head out of Aegon’s sight.

“I am not ugly.” Aegon growled at Darkstar. He would have complained to his grandfather and made a false allegation to get Darkstar banished but Rhaenys depended on him so just left it at showing his displeasure.

“Arianne and her selection doesn’t count, she will warm any bed with silver hair on the pillow, even if the hair isn’t silver, isn’t that right, Arianne dear?”

“I do not know to what you refer Darkstar.” She purred his name.

“I refer to you should be more careful, lest Viserys or Aerys discover your antics. What if they don’t like your side hustle?” Darkstar leaned toward Aegon. “And you are a side hustle currently. She is keeping you on the hook so she and Dorne have power.”

Aegon scowled at Darkstar, but the knight just smiled because he had achieved his purpose, taking Aegon’s attention so Jon and Daenerys could smile at each other in that adorable teen infatuated way. Daenerys blushed as Jon smiled at her and then smiled back at him and let her arm fall from where a distracted Aegon had released it.

Princess Elia, her daughter Princess Rhaenys, followed with Lady Cersei and her children, Prince Stefan and Princess Jo’Hannah. Cersei looked at the table and then the guests. “Who else is coming?”

“Aunt Cersei, King Aerys, Queen Rhaella and my beloved Prince Viserys are yet to arrive.” Arianne smiled at her aunt like she had had a memory slip.

“It is a shame Arianne that you father never ensured your maester taught you to count over ten without removing you shoes or doing addition, because there are twenty-one chairs and even with the six Essosi guests of Queen Rhaella’s we are three people short. Three.” She held up three fingers on front of her niece’s face. “Extra.” She then walked to the table. As Rhaenys followed on Stefan’s arm both of Arianne’s cousin’s having to leave to hide their smiles.

“Sorry.” Jo’Hannah said to her cousin.

“I know your mother has a sharp and cruel tongue.” Arianne dismissed her young cousin’s need to apologise for her mother, Arianne had dealt with Cersei much of her life.

“Sometimes, she cannot be stopped from telling it how it is.” Jo’Hannah shrugged and walked off after her mother.

Darkstar chuckled with no attempt to hide it. “Double burn.”

“You may all wish to remember I am to wed Prince Viserys, and what that means for the future.” Arianne announced tired of the disrespect, she was a princess.

“True, you should remember what that means for the future and maybe for the present as well.” Viserys said entering the hall dressed in Targaryen black and red, looking quite distinguished and handsome. Missandei and her mistress curtsied low to have Viserys regard them strangely. “Why are you doing that?” The woman draped in heavy clothes gestured to Missandei.

“You are Princess Daenerys’ elder brother, that makes you first born and heir to the throne does it not? We were simply showing reverence to the next king of the realm.” Aegon and Arianne laughed at their misconception, which made Missandei’s lady take a step back and drop her head.

“You are correct Daenerys is my younger sister, but I had an elder and he had children, so no, I am not the next king.”

“We are so sorry to have made that mistake.” Missandei apologised and moved away with her mistress, to take a seat at the far end of the table. Arianne and Aegon got a few displeased glares from the Essosi contingent who liked the woman and her handmaid.

“What? It was funny.” Aegon asked for explanation of the disappointed atmosphere.

“It was an understandable mistake, Aegon. They do not know everything about our realm, they are foreign guests, you should be kinder.” Viserys shook his head at his nephew and his betrothed.

Aegon turned to the table. “I am sorry, please relay that to your mistress, of course you were not to know.” Missandei nodded and spoke quietly to her mistress who just nodded.

“The Crown Prince title should have been explanation enough, though unless the heat of her clothing has muddled her mind.” Arianne would not apologise; it had been a laughable gaff on this woman’s part and if she wished to live in Westeros, she needed to get her facts straight. There was no second prize for ignorance.

“Except Arianne, we haven’t been trotting out his title for all to hear, so it is hard for her to notice what she hasn’t heard.” Viserys reminded her.  Arianne should stop being so arrogant, this was his mother’s guest and Queen Rhaella would look badly on Arianne insulting her.

Daenerys looked over her brother with new eyes, she did not recall him being so calm and collected within himself or kind to people. What had changed her brother in the months she had been away with their mother? By the way she was acting it was not the influence of Princess Arianne, she was not encouraging him to be a ‘better man’. Was it because of how elitist Arianne was being, Viserys saw his arrogance mirrored and disliked it, and improved?

“Why are you all standing around making the room untidy?” Aerys appeared at the doors with his wife on his arm. “Sit at you appointed seats.” He commanded.

“Which seats would they be?” Jon asked without ceremony.

“The one’s I assigned everyone.” Aerys responded.

Jon went to the table and perused the settings nothing indicated who should sit where. It was obvious that Aerys would sit at the head of the table and Queen Rhaella to his left by the extra ornate chairs in those positions but other than that all other place settings were identical. “Where?”

“In my head.” Aerys took Rhaella to her seat and like a gentleman pulled her seat out for her, because Rickard was glaring at him to treat Rhaella perfectly and Aerys knew Rickard would beat him black and blue if he did not.

“Help us here, the Kingsguards standing all around, won’t let us bust your head open to get the seating arrangements out of your head. Perhaps you could point them out to us.” Jon decided if he was free, he was going to act it. Daenerys gave him a look of ‘what the…?’ but he ignored it, he would die free.

Darkstar bit his tongue to not laugh at his brother’s jest, and then glared around at the Kingsguards who knew who he really was to say, as the real Aegon he would not let harm come to his brother. Those not in the know, well those just got his ‘I will kill you’ glare, all insane like, as his grandfather was.

Aerys gazed at Jon for a minute silently then at Darkstar wondering if the elder brother had infected the younger with his insolence. Instead, he decided to just do as the boy asked and tell people where to sit. “Viserys as my eldest living child at my right hand, Daenerys next to her mother with her betrothed Aegon of Dragonstone beside her. Viserys’ betrothed beside him, and her aunt my good daughter beside her niece then her good sister and her daughter then that blue haired boy and the Blackfyre and that foreign guest and her girl can stay in those last two seats.”

Everyone shuffled around to accommodate Aerys’ seating order as Rhaenys and the boys waited to be given their seating designations. Stefan gave his cousin a grin of assurance and a light squeeze on her arm.

“As Rhaenys and Aegon are such close siblings she can sit next to her brother with her cousin next to her and then that ex-prisoner boy next to him then we might have the golden lad that seems stuck to his side and Darkstar next to him.”

“Your grace,” As the other young people took their seats, Cersei decided to get her curiosity met. “There are three seats not filled, are we missing some people?”

“Well, everyone here has at least one blood relative here or more except the girl and her lady at the end, so I invited some family of the prisoner boy’s.”

“My family?” Jon asked surprised.

“Yes.” Aerys answered as if that was the most natural expectation in the world.

Aegon cleared his throat. “Grandfather, why is Gerold Dayne eating with us, even as mother’s protector, it does not explain his presence at the table?” Egg looked across the table with a grateful expression to the knight hearing he was protecting his mother. “He isn’t even near mother.”

“That is because she is ungrateful for what the Gods have gifted her.” Aerys said with a glare at Princess Elia. He was angry that she had rejected the lad, and still was standoffish, having not fixed her attitude.

“I do not understand.” Aegon looked at his mother, Darkstar and then his grandfather to only look at his mother again.

“I have a feeling you may by the end of the evening.” Cersei spoke low with a glance at the king.  For Elia she hoped not, already it would be a mess with the Aegon Elia had raised and the one which had just returned to her. Her nephew, the only possible son of Rhaegar glanced at her and shared a worried look with her, obviously concerned about the same thing.

“I beg your pardon, Aunt Cersei?” Aegon was not liking all the newcomers and the upheaval they brought with them.  He hadn’t even had a chance to reacquaint with Daenerys since she arrived, obviously absence had not made the heart grown fonder, and he could not help but think the Black Cell lad had a lot to do with it.

“I will not borrow trouble, nephew. It is his Grace’s dinner; he can invite or not anyone he chooses.” Cersei left the quagmire alone.

“How angry was your brother, Elia?” Aerys asked with amusement in his voice.

“Your Grace, why was Uncle Oberyn not invited but his wife and two of his children were?” Arianne asked the question which no one else was stupid enough to ask the insane man. Aerys went from smiling at Elia to scowling at Arianne. His eyes and attention then moved to Viserys to his right.

“How set are you on this one.” He flicked a finger toward Arianne.

“As set as I should be.” Viserys hedged his answer, he would swap her in minute for a better option, but there weren’t any. Well, unless he stole Rhaenys, and he couldn’t steal love from his beloved niece.

“Careful Dornish Princess, I can always replace you, with … I was going to say another Dornish Princess, but Oberyn only has one legitimate one.” He looked at Jo’Hannah.

“No.” Viserys stated firmly, before Cersei could say it. “She is too young.”

“What Houses paramount have daughters? I can find a daughter from a prominent house surely.”

“Stannis Baratheon has a daughter, Shireen. She is a pretty young girl. Though probably too young for Viserys.” Rhaella commented, she doubted Aerys was serious.

“House Stark.” Came a voice from the door. Lord Eddard Stark and his twin sons stood at the door like sentinels.  Tall, dark, serious men who had entered the room without the knowledge of those within the room.

“What daughter?” Aerys asked suspiciously.

“Sansa, daughter of Catelyn Tully.” Lord Stark answered as he took a seat between Visenya and Missandei’s Mistress letting his sons take the two remaining seats next to Darkstar.

“Wasn’t she a bastard?” Aerys was sure she was conceived on the war trail.

“No. You, annulled our marriage after Sansa was born, so none of my children are bastards.” Lord Stark said with a growl. Aerys looked covertly at Rickard who nodded his agreement, so it must be right.

“Oh, alright then, if it is alright due to the different religions then I am happy to hear that.”

“You are not serious.” Arianne exclaimed.

“Totally.” Aerys stated firmly.

“No.” Ned answered. “Catelyn has filled that girl’s head with too much fluff about who she deserves to be, I will not see her become a real princess.”

“We’d have to cut our ears off.” Nicholas elbowed Robb in the ribs.

“I’ll do yours, if you do mine.” Robb agreed with his twin.

“We wouldn’t want her anyway,” Aerys said miffed at the lord. “Viserys is going to marry a real princess, which means Arianne. I will not be dissuaded!”

“Fine, no one was arguing with you.” Ned sighed, wondering how much his father had been forced to deal with before his death from this madman.

Aerys smiled happily. “Jon, have you met Lord Eddard Stark and his sons?”

“No.” Jon answered, even though he had met Nicholas.

“Well, that grumpy old one is Eddard Stark, and then the two lads are Robb and Other Robb.”

“My name is not Other Robb.”

“Oh, well Robb Two.”

“It is also not Robb Two.” Nicholas did not have his father’s years to be cold and was starting to sound annoyed.

“His name is Nicholas.” Ned told the king in a tone that Aerys recognised from Rickard, it said ‘you will bear your throat’.

“As king I can call anybody anything I like.” Aerys saw Rickard shake his head, but he was right, the Direwolves did not get to tell him what to do just because they were scary.

“Alright.” Ned said and placed his utensils on the table, "Robb, Nicholas, Jon stand up we are going. Thank you for returning my nephew to me, we will leave your company now.”  Then he pushed his chair out and stood as did his two sons.  Jon was a bit slower, and Daenerys looked hurt to think Lord Stark would steal Jon away after she finally got him back.

“What are you doing?” Aerys glared to his right and Rickard just stood there no help at all.

“If you insist on ignoring our tenets then we will bid you good-night and farewell, we will return to Winterfell where people have good manners enough to use people’s names properly.” Ned said as he stepped from his chair. “Thank you, Queen Rhaella it was a pleasure as always.” He bowed to the queen and looked ready to go, he gazed at Jon until he too rose to follow instructions.

“Don’t be all melodramatic.”

“I wasn’t, you were and I was honouring my words.” He pushed his chair back into the table. “It was lovely to sit next to such a well manner lady.” Ned addressed the foreign lady who did not deserve Aerys to be her example of Westerosi hospitality.

“Sit down!”

“Refer to my sons by their proper names.” Ned gazed coldly at the king. “And apologise to Nicholas.”

“How dare you demand such of your king!” Aerys would get riled up and go off to show this lord he would not be cowed.

“Unfortunately, my father was murdered before he could properly teach me how to have correct discourse with my king.” Ned stared his king down. Aerys looked right to see Rickard smile and try to not laugh at those words.

“Yes.” Rhaella spoke quietly, she wanted to take her knife and bury it in Aerys’ hand for that act. It would be so easy.

“Listen here, I am …”

“The man who murdered my father.”

“He was…”

“Loyal and willing to work it out peacefully, but you boiled him in his armour instead.”

“That was your brother Brandon’s fault.” Aerys would not take the blame; Rhaella might have finally forgiven him for the mistake.  He glanced left at his sister. No, she still wants to give your life to save Rickard’s.

“Oh, yes, you also caused my brother’s death that day.”

“I will not apologise, but I will use the lad’s name now I know it.”

Ned seemed to think a moment about it. “No.” He pointed at Jon and waved his hand as if to say he should join the twins.

“Jon can’t go with you!” Daenerys blurted out and everyone looked at the princess Aegon was not very impressed.

“He is not a prisoner your highness.” Ned said gently as he could see the princess had a soft spot for the boy, but it could not be with their relation.

“No, but I am his keeper and carer until he is returned to his grandfather.”

“His grandfather?” Ned kept his eyes strictly off Aerys.

“Yes, I am to go beyond The Wall, through the Army of the Dead, which the Direwolves will lead me through and onto his fortress within a year and a Day of having paid for Jon’s freedom.”

“What?!” Both Aegon and Aerys exclaimed. Aerys looked to Rickard who mouthed ‘Aerion’ to the king.

“His fortress?” Ned could not believe it; this was like a bedtale his father told him when he was small; he wished he had listened better.

“That is what the Blade of Fire said, she gave me this dagger.” Daenerys pulled the wicked thing out of her dress. Lord Stark came to the princess’ side to gaze upon the weapon. She tried to hand it to him, but he refused to touch it.

“The Fate Blade.” He spoke in a hushed tone of reverence.

“Do you know the way?”

“I do, or at least I was told the way, in a bedtale when I was a child.” Ned glanced up at Aerys and his concerned face so he should be. “Sit down boys.”

“I don’t think the princess should chance it.” Jon told Ned as he passed him heading back to his seat.

“She will not be going.” Aegon stated with flames. “You can go alone.”

As Ned sank into his seat, he shook his head, no Jon couldn’t. Missandei was talking to her mistress with intent and finally came out of their conversation to ask a question.

“My mistress wishes to hear what the Blade of Fire said. What was the consequence of failure?”

“I have a year and a day to present myself before the King of the Winter Fortress or King Aerion’s wrath will reign down upon me and mine, as his Dragons take to the skies to see his heir returned to him. The timer started the day we paid for his freedom.”

Missandei’s mistress spoke furiously to her handmaiden. As she did Missandei nodded she understood and started to blanch for her new friend Daenerys. “My mistress says, you must take this seriously, for even in her lands do they fear the Keeper of the Winter Fortress and his Winter Warriors, imbued by War himself with unequalled martial prowess.”

“Then Daenerys will not go.” Aegon stated like it made a difference. “She is my betrothed and I say I will not allow her to travel into danger.”

“Won’t allow me?” Daenerys arched an eyebrow; Egg sank in his chair sure Aegon was about to die at this very table.

“As your betrothed I say you cannot go.” Aegon declared with false authority.

“You say?” The tone the princess was using worried those who watched her in Essos.

“Oh, he is so dead.” Visenya whispered to Egg.

“He might be lucky, Geron isn’t wearing a blade.”

“Did you threaten the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, wench.” Aegon spoke down to Visenya.

“Geron might not have one, but I do.” She said to Egg as her chair scraped the floor and she stood to flick up her dress to free her dagger from her boot. “I am not a wench!”

“Vy, sit down, don’t get yourself killed.” Egg pulled on her arm as the kingsguards stepped forward.

“I am Lady Visenya Blackfyre, daughter of Aegon Blackfyre. I will threaten any idiot I like who deserves it, Crown Prince or not.”

“She was not threatening you; she was simply saying from our experience you were likely to anger the princess and she would have you killed.” Egg tried to do damage control, but saw this Aegon had been sheltered about the repercussions of his words.

“Wasn’t, but I will save Daenerys from marrying an obvious, oblivious boy.”

“Vy.” Egg rolled his eyes at Visenya’s propensity to get her back up.

“Daenerys is too sweet to have any killed, ordering an execution takes grit and strength of character.” Aegon blundered on as Daenerys’ eyebrow hit her hairline.

“She ordered Geron Gold to slit my throat because I asked to meet the queen before giving her information she wanted.” Egg enlightened Aegon to the girl who he was currently betrothed to. Egg had no faith Daenerys would be a bride to any silver prince.

“She would not.” Aegon refused to see the real girl before him.

“She did.  Which was after she told me to slit Jon Connington’s throat for wasting her time.” Geron helped Egg out and hoped Daenerys’ eyebrow might drop and he may not have to start a blood bath.

“Daenerys!” Aerys exclaimed at the news of her Essosi antics, guessing it had something to do with Jon.

“Yes, Father.” She remained glaring at her betrothed.

“I am so proud of you. Did you get him to slit the traitor’s throat and the damn red-headed demon is dead?”

“No, Mother gave him gold and told him to disappear and never dream of returning to Westeros.”

“Damn!” Aerys cursed and pouted into his meal. He would have been so proud if his little girl had ordered Connington’s death.

Ignoring the Targaryen-Blackfyre drama Ned addressed the princess. “House Stark will aid you on this journey and see you safe through to the Winter Fortress.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark.”

“It is our duty to protect our princess, we bound our Houses centuries ago with The Conqueror and The King Who Kneeled. House Stark is bound to serve at House Targaryen’s side.”

“You forgot that sixteen years ago.” Aerys glared down the table.

“My father remembered, and at the end of the war when I was Lord of Winterfell I remembered as well.  The Lord of Winterfell, sitting in Winterfell has never betrayed our pact, if the pact has ever been forgotten it was House Targaryen who forgot, because The North remembers.”

“Still, your highness if it is that dangerous, perhaps you really should stay safe in Kings landing, I am sure my uncle and cousins can help Geron and I to get where we are going.”

“No.” Ned answered before Daenerys. “If King Aerion said he was expecting Daenerys he will expect her to show up. It could spell danger for our realm if we do not follow the instructions precisely.”

“Do you know this king, Lord Stark?” The queen asked, worried for her daughter.

“When I was little, he was a merry visitor, but soon he became sullen and full of anguish and rage. He arrived soon after I became Lord of Winterfell and had returned with Ashara and the twins. He wished me and mine health, but he warned he would not be bringing blessings next time he travelled below The Wall. He had come to honour my father’s bones.”

“Strange he should have such animus to us.”

“Aerion is a Targaryen name, or at least a Valyrian one, is he Valyrian?” Viserys asked the important question, could there be another branch of their family somewhere, more relatives so their bloodline did not dangle so precariously off them?

“His hair was silver from age or ancestry.” Ned was sure it had always been silver.

“He is not my grandfather then.” Jon spoke with some regret.

“Likely no, but even if it is only so he may see that, you must go, so his threat is not triggered.” Ned was thinking of all the people in the Seven Kingdoms, and the reference to the Army of the Dead.  Was Winter Coming and this time it was bringing a Long Night?

“Daenerys cannot go. It is too dangerous, and she is a princess.”

“You’re a princess.” Darkstar bit back at Aegon.

“Gerold!” Elia reprimanded her eldest son.

“Sorry, Princess Elia, mother voice doesn’t work on me, no mother you see.” Darkstar glared up the table at his mother.

“Oh, Darkstar.” Rhaenys got up from her seat to hug the young knight. “I am sorry to hear your mother is dead. I would offer to share mine but the two of you seem off foot lately. Aunt Cersei, would you like to be Darkstar’s substitute mother?”

“My father would be thrilled to learn I had a silver haired son, just like he wanted when he tried to steal Rhaegar from Elia’s martial march and make it mine. You are a handsome boy, Darkstar, I could easily see you as Prince Rhaegar’s son.” Cersei ignored the eyes of Elia burning into her back.

“As we both dislike your arranged husband, I would adore having a mother who loved and accepted me.” Darkstar said without looking at his real mother, problem was if anyone noted his Dayne mother was still alive.

“Good.” Rhaenys kissed his head.” I am glad my adopted brother has an adopted mother. Did you need an adoptive father?”

“Do you have one hidden somewhere?”

“No, but for you Gerold Dayne I would search for one.”

“Gee, Aegon you are so blessed to have such a generous sister, I wish she was not just my adopted sister but my real one.”

“When was he adopted?”

“A few weeks ago, He was having a bad day and then I had a terrible day, and a girl can never have too many little brothers.”

“Darkstar is not younger than you, Rhaenys.” Arianne snickered at how naïve her cousin was about the world.

“He obviously is younger than me.”

“No, he isn’t.” Arianne smiled condescendingly at Rhaenys.

“Whatever, Arianne.” Rhaenys waved her hand as if Arianne’s opinion would not sway her belief.

“Rhaenys is right.” Aerys said, which worried Darkstar that again the king would let it slip who he was. “As my granddaughter, even if she is wrong, she is right. Learn that truth of the realm or I’ll cut a piece off you.  Ask Jon what I am capable of.”

“Yes, Jon regale us to how the king treated you during his guardianship of you.” Darkstar sat forward. Aerys looked worried; he recalled talk of all but his eyeball burning.

“I do not wish to remember. Princess Arianne, I will simply advise you to not test his methods of punishment. I didn’t even commit a crime so I can’t imagine how he would make it worse for someone who hurt his family.” Jon did not wish to relive any of his past experiences at Aerys mercy, which the king had none of.

“I would be very interested in how you treated my nephew.” Ned said ominously.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Jon said as he took another mouthful of his food.

Cersei gazed silently at the lad for a moment with a contemplative expression. “Which sibling gave you this handsome nephew?” Cersei held Ned with her emerald stare.

Lord Stark returned her stare and kept his breathing steady, he was a northman, he would not falter under a southern lady’s gaze. “Which do you think Lady Cersei?” Robb asked for his father.

“It is such a delectable intrigue; I have a thought.” Cersei did not move her gaze.

“Well, Uncle Brandon was a hound.” Nicholas shrugged. “Famously, attacked his own brother’s betrothed, we nearly had an elder bastard half-brother cousin.”

“Could have been a half-sister cousin.” Robb clarified one should not assume gender.

“Point is he was a hound, Robb.” Nicholas got them back on point.

“I was not aware you and Ashara Dayne were betrothed then.” Aerys stated in confusion. Did you know Rickard?

Obviously not as I am you.

You don’t have to be cranky, gee I wish I had another imaginary friend to complain to about you and your attitude.

“I had only asked her earlier that eve.” Ned turned to Aerys, glad to move the conversation away from Jon’s paternity.

“I knew he wished it, as he asked permission to request it.” Arthur confirmed.

“Was it romantic Lord Stark?” Jo’Hannah asked.

“You would need ask my wife, Princess Jo’Hannah.”

“I imagine it was.” Jo’Hannah sighed mightily.

“Why would you imagine that?” Ned was not sure why this Dornish girl was gazing all soft eyed at him and his sons.

“You are a Stark, Lord Stark.” Jo’Hannah sighed as she imagined how a young Lord Stark proposed to a young Lady Dayne. Ned was even more confounded by her answer and reaction.

“I do not understand.” Ned looked at her mother for explanation and just received a smile, so returned to gaze perplexed at the girl.

“Mother says, I should get myself a … no, she says she will get me a Stark husband, so I am happy.  They are the only types of husbands that can do that.” Ned’s eyes moved from the daughter to her mother, his expression said that needed explanation.

“What?” Cersei gave her best innocent look.

“Get a Stark husband?” Ned asked her.

“You need to breed more.” Cersei gave as her answer. Then she looked at his twin sons. “Find fertile wives and breed armies of sons for the realm’s girls. Try polygamy.”

“Cersei!” Elia tried to rein her good-sister in.

“Nicholas, is it?” He nodded. “We know Robb is taken by Margery Tyrell currently, what about you?”

“Maybe a bit old for your daughter.”

“Oh, that would be great, but no. Oberyn is looking to marry Rhaenys off and as his wife I should help. Want to marry a Targaryen princess?”

“Aunt Cersei.” Rhaenys was now wishing to stop her aunt speaking. “I am a bit too old for Lord Stark.”

“Who else is there?” Cersei asked her niece, looking at Darkstar.

“Please look to my side, not at me.” Darkstar requested of his aunt.

“I cannot look to either of your sides, as we said neither of the sons of House Starks will do and the age reason works against the other boys to your right as well.  All the young men here are unsuitable slightly too youthful or related by blood.”

“Well, Aerys as host is to blame for that. He is the host.” Darkstar had no fear of throwing his ‘grandfather’ under the ‘bus’ or marauding lioness.

“Oh! Aerys do you want to tick Dorne off?” Cersei ask with some excitement in her voice, because she wanted to anger Dorne and its leading family.

“I do.” Aerys nodded and leaned forward to hear her suggestion.

“House Tyrell.” Cersei said with glee.

“No!” Aerys shook his head, then he slammed his knife into the table. “Under no circumstance!” Rhaenys looked surprised and quickly moved her focus to Viserys to hide her expression, but it was still difficult as there were several people between them.  Aerys however saw her pain and her salve.  He could not use Darkstar so Viserys must be it.

“Why?” Cersei did not understand House Tyrell would be a coup, they had the grain, the true wealth of the realm.

“They are offering Loras.” Viserys answered for his father’s fit about the suggestion.

“Rhaenys, I need you to get up and swap places with Arianne Martell. Aegon swap with Daenerys, best Viserys betrothed is not next to another prince, people will whisper. I hate whispers, they tickle my ear hairs and make my brain itch.” The last sentence was for Rickard, but others were allowed to hear it. Also, this seating arrangement had his little girl closer to Jon.

Cersei’s face screwed up in disgust. “For Aegon? Did you explain he likes girls.”

The Crown Prince’s chair which he had just settled into, moved back an inch with his aunt’s suggestion. “No!”

“Olenna offered Loras?” Rhaella asked in disbelief. “How dare she.” It was not often that the queen showed her anger but something about that offer offended the queen greatly. “Was there any debate?”

“No, it is what the House offered?” Aerys was not even sure what bee had gotten into his wife’s bonnet about that.

“We will not be accepting any offers from House Tyrell. Aerys, you will inform them, now I have returned to my sovereign soil, they are to get out of my capital.” Rhaella was not mad she was infuriated.  She had reassured Olenna after the accident that crippled Willas, that she would use her influence as Queen to make sure his marriage prospects were not hampered by his impairment.  Olenna said she was grateful. Grateful? Grateful but she could not offer the heir of Highgarden to her granddaughter. Olenna was very much in disfavour now.

Aerys did not know what to say, Rhaella rarely made demands and she only made them for good reason, but he couldn’t send Willas away, Rhaenys loved him.  For Rhaella he must do this and for his granddaughter he couldn’t. He saw the devastation on Rhaenys face at the thought of Willas being sent away.

Viserys’ right hand disappeared under the table to take Rhaenys hand in his to give her strength as he had worked out who it was that had caused Rhaenys to weep and why. He also understood Willas may have been entrapped by his niece’s gentle heart and would be regretful he had damaged it.

“I will send all but Lord Willas away. I need him here for the requirements of the realm. Every other one will be gone by dusk tomorrow sister.” She glared at him.

“From what Margery says, he would prefer that anyway.” Robb whispered to his father. Ned leaned over to hear more. “House Tyrell is in civil war, over that very move on the House’s part.”

“What are you whispering about down there?” Aerys called to the Starks at the other end of the table.

“Nothing, we do not involve ourselves in the gossiping and petty backstabbing of the realm.” Ned answered the king.

“Oh, I see Mother.  I definitely see why a Stark husband is preferable.” Jo’Hannah said quietly to Cersei’s nodding head.

“How does you being tight lipped help me?” Aerys asked his northern Lord Paramount.

“It isn’t supposed to.” Ned answered.

“Speaking of nephews, are you a nephew of Princess Cersei’s, Golden Boy?” Aerys squinted down the table to the golden lad who sat near his favourite grandson.

Geron ignored the king’s question, just looked at the plate that had just been placed before him, wishing he had stayed on the ship and eaten with Lady Evelyn instead.

“Are you a cousin, I don’t know about? Grandfather would be thrilled?” Jo’Hannah spoke to the boy.

“Who cares what the old Lion feels.” Cersei, Geron and Steffan said into each of their chests in unison.

“With no knowledge of this boy at all, your grace I can answer your query.” Jo’Hannah offered. “Yes, he is my cousin, because he has inherited the Lannister hatred of the patriarch of our House. Uncle Tyrion has it too and Uncle Kevan, but he tries to hide it at least.”

“Do you hate your grandfather?”

“How would I know; I have rarely met the man. He caused Uncle Jaime’s death according to my mother, so we hate him for killing half of us.”

“Your uncle died for treason, for trying to kill me.”

“Yes, but you can be sure Tywin put the command in his head.” Ned spoke what he could see boiling in Cersei.  How must she feel knowing her father’s schemes got her twin executed? How did Tywin feel?

“Perhaps to not go down this murky road we can change the subject.” Rhaella desperately wanted away from this one. Death and betrayal were not subjects that kept your digestion flowing correctly.

“Anyway, to finish it neatly, my name is Gold, I was born in Essos to a common girl. So, no solid connection other than hair and eye colour.”

“Also, you wear Brightroar.” Jon whispered in Geron’s ear so no one else could hear.

Geron looked at his friend and smiled, so he did.  However, Brightroar proved nothing Geron Lannister lost Brightroar long ago on a pilgrimage to Valyria, anyone could have it now.  That no one recognised the sword except Jon showed how far out of Lannister minds their ancestral sword was. Though it got his friend thinking as he started to look around at various people with curiosity on his features.

“You look like you have a query young Jon.” Ned saw his nephew had a thought.

“Not really a question for a dinner but why do Westerosi Houses have ancestral swords, and such made of Valyrian steel, I would understand House Targaryen and Velaryon and Valyrian Houses but First Men and Andal Houses, why? And, how?” All the adults looked contemplative, but none seemed to know the answered to the query.

Well, do you know Rickard? Aerys asked the man he considered his wisest counsellor.

Again, I am you. I don’t know anything you don’t. The apparition answered him.

Yes, but you are a saner part of me that could contemplate it from a different angle and come up with a different reasoning due to that. Aerys replied. Geez, do I have to do everything!

“That is an interesting conundrum, I do not believe any of us know the answer to that question.” Ned answered for all the silent adults.

Darkstar looked at the ceiling, trying to not speak out of turn, because he knew: Whitewalkers and the Night King’s army returning.

It did not matter because Aerys as usual was distracted to another thing and took a right-hand turn in the evening. “What is with the outlandish hair colour?” Aerys asked the room but of course he was talking to Aegon of Essos.

“In Essos many colour their hair, and it helped to cover and hide my true hair colour.” Egg answered understanding that Aerys was about to ‘out’ him as Aegon.

“Real hair colour. Why would you need cover your real hair colour?” Connington is an idiot.

“Silver hair would cause questions.”

“Then why is her hair still silver?” Aerys pointed at Visenya.

“Lady Visenya is a known Blackfyre.”

“I thought there were quite a few Valyarian descendants and silver haired people in Essos.” It is a silly disguise Rickard.

That it might be but there was still danger to him.

“Not as rare as in Westeros but still not thick on the ground. His guardian did not have silver hair so that would have seemed strange.” Visenya explained. “They were in hiding in the chance someone might be searching to kill him.” Elia looked like she might weep at those words.

“Are you alright mother?” Aegon asked with concern. “Perhaps assassinations and death are not the topic for the dinner table, Lady Blackfyre. It is troubling my mother.” Rhaenys took her mother’s hand in consolation.

“Well, I am sure Princess Elia has dealt with harsher realities than this over her life, we do not always get to have soft topic over harsh ones spoken for our nerves.” Visenya was tired of these soft girls. Where had Daenerys got her bite from?

Oh, I like her. Aerys smiled at Rickard. I might make her Daenerys’ handmaid. Rickard just shook his head because Visenya Blackfyre would never be anyone’s handmaid. “Why would anyone wish you murdered boy?” Aerys asked, he saw Arianne smile like she knew a secret he did not, he was about to burst her bubble. “Everyone thought you were here in the Red Keep, thanks to the swap the Martell brothers did with him.” Aerys pointed at the crowned prince.

“What?!” Aegon dropped his fork onto the table in his shock. Rhaenys let go of Elia’s hand and stared at her grandfather shocked. Most of the remaining guest already knew or were not in a true position to care. Only the Martells youths and the Starks were not knowledgeable and as they had grown up with ‘Aegon’ they looked sympathetically at their cousin, the Starks just shook their heads in regret for the mess this made.

“This is a lie! He is an imposter!” Aegon stood in his anger. “Mother.” He looked to his mother pleading her to discredit this lie and tell him it was all part of his grandfather’s insanity. “Mother. Please, say it is a lie.”

“Aegon…” She just shook her head and looked at the table.  She could not look him in the eye. Aegon looked around the table desperately looking for someone to say his world was not falling apart.

“I am sorry, your uncles did this to you, Aegon.” Cersei reached out with her voice, because this mess was not the young man’s fault and no one thought how this plan would affect him, he was just accepted cost. Cersei rubbed Elia’s back as she wept for her sons and their pain.

“He makes a good point. How do I know he too is not an imposter?” Aerys stared at the blue haired boy, he did have some of Elia and Rhaenys features but he also had features one could attribute to Aegon and the Visenya girl.

“I am not an imposter.” Egg said calmly.

“I am not an imposter!” Aegon yelled, unable to hold his frustration in.

“They both could be.” They both were and weren’t. Aerys stared down the table at the boys he knew were true, he could name them for who they were, admit Gerold Dayne was the real Aegon and Jon was one too. He would not, not now. He would keep Valyri’s grandsons safe, for the cousin he could not keep safe.

“Aerys what are you doing?” Rhaella spoke in hushed tones.

“I had plans to reveal all the secrets of this mess of a House tonight.” Aerys spoke loud enough people at the other end of the table could hear. “I may be mad enough, but I am not that stupid. The Blue haired boy has been in Essos, raised by Jon Connington, as Aegon son of Elia and Rhaegar.”

“I …” Aegon stepped away from the table, still unable to accept the news.

“However, there is nothing to say he is Aegon, or that Aegon was not returned after it was realised, he was not in danger.” Aerys looked to his Lord Commander. “Until there is complete proof, I will not strip you of your life Aegon, I will also not strip you of your promised reunion other Aegon, but I will need a way to discern one from the other by reference.”

“Visenya here calls me Egg, I am happy to be referred to as that until we have an answer to this conundrum.” He preferred it as he saw what his revelation had done to the imposter.

“Visenya?” Aerys gazed at the girl, thinking of all the prophecy and stupidity surrounding the founding names of their dynasty: Visenya, Aegon and Rhaenys. Maybe there was a reason there were so many Aegon. “Who was your father?”

“Aegon Blackfyre, son of Baela Blackfyre” Visenya trotted out her family history as much as she cared to. She had already declared this, but the king was insane who knew how long words and ideas stayed in his head.

“One does not inherit their mother’s name. What was your grandfather’s name?” Aerys explained ancestry to the girl.

“You do if your grandmother refuses to name her husband to his sons.”

“Sons? You have uncles?”

“One and an aunt or did have an aunt, she took her own life years ago.” Just after I was weaned. Visenya grew up quick and hard, no cushy life for a Blackfyre princess.

“We are sorry to hear that, did you know her well?” Rhaella felt sympathy for the loss of family this girl felt.

“I was only small when she died, it is also part of the reason my father and uncle were estranged.” She was not telling these strangers anything extra about herself or her story, even Egg did not know this part of it.

“What would your aunt’s death have to do with them being estranged?” Aerys asked, not understanding he had no right to interrogate the girl of her family.

“I do not see why this should be dinner conversation.” Visenya did not wish to visit this painful part of her family history.

“You. Blue Boy. What is the reason?” Aerys asked Egg.

“I have no idea. Also, we agreed to Egg to reference me.”

“I agreed to nothing, so I as king will call you whatever I want, Blue Boy.”

“He sounds like a pirate’s parrot.” Darkstar mumbled with a smile.

“Mischief, really?” Geron asked the knight.

“It is my speciality.” Darkstar winked at Geron.

“You have grown up with her how do you not know?” Aerys queried the ‘real’ Aegon.

“Not my or her entire life, only partially.” Visenya was already a tough little girl when Egg was introduced to her and having met her father, he knew why that man had no softness Egg had ever seen.

“How much?” Aerys needed to know, letting a Blackfyre into his castle was dangerous.

“Most but not all.” Egg was not going to divulge Visenya’s life to a stranger, even if it was his grandfather, because he above all others knew she’d been born with a knife between her teeth and knew how to cut you terribly.

This did not please Aerys because Visenya had similarities to the two false Aegons, were they Blackfyres? How closely were they to being Blackfyres? How dangerous were Blackfyres to House Targaryen? He had fought in the Nine Penny War against the last male heir to that line, was his opinion biased?

Visenya was glad no one could tell her family’s story because it was as terrible as any Targaryen debacle imaginable. What could be expected they all descended from Aegon the Unworthy. Still, it was a terrible tale and as much as she had wanted her father’s approval, she understood why her uncle hated him for his actions against their sister. She loved her father, but he was a reprehensible man at times. Most times.

The dinner ended with Aegon storming out and Rhaenys going to comfort her brother, but embracing Egg hello before she left, explaining whatever the truth was Aegon was her little brother, and he was very hurt.  Egg appreciated his sister and her heart, he was more wary of his mother, he told her she could go to Aegon after his obvious upset, and she had said she would prefer to get to know him first.

Even Cersei shook her head at that one, as she and her children went to seek the hurt prince as well. Egg did notice that Cersei had a few quiet words with the Darkstar, Gerold Dayne fellow before she followed her children out.  Also, a word with Lord Stark about introducing her daughter to his third son, if they were of an age, which of course she knew they were.  Egg had developed a fast affection for his aunt and her catty personality.

Visenya stuck with Jon and Geron as Missandei and her mistress retired to the rooms they were given for the night. Egg felt like the only teen to not be part of the gang as the Stark twins joined them and Visenya and Daenerys broke off to gather around the lads.

Elia took his hands. “I am so overjoyed to have you home, Aegon.”

“Egg.” He corrected her. “We don’t know if I am the imposter.”

“I know you aren’t a mother knows.”

Egg shook his head. “So, how have you raised my replacement if you knew he wasn’t me?” He was more interested in why she or how she so easily cut the other Aegon off.

“I knew one day you would come home.”

Egg took a breath to ask another question but decided against it. “I am happy to be home. I do feel terribly for the other Aegon.”

“Do not, I have his fate all arranged.” Elia said, know Aerys would legitimise all the children and give them all their place. Unfortunately, that is not how Egg took the statement, he knew how the Seven Kingdoms worked, he knew how people worked, Jon Connington attempted to teach him to be better but all he heard was Aegon would disappear.

“I am tired, I think I will go rest.”

“We will have a bed set up in my apartments so we can be close.”

“Maybe tomorrow we can change everything, tonight all my things are in that apartment Aerys setup for us all. I will call on you for breakfast.”

“Yes, we shall break our fast together.”

Aerys found the evening dull and boring; he had not made everyone skitter as he had wished but he couldn’t without divulging things he wasn’t ready for.  Revealing the Stark connection of Jon’s was a safety net, giving the boy more protection was all he could do. Knowing Aerion had already sent agents to scoop Jon up, it worried him.

He had wanted to make all the Martell plans burn but he had not the time, he could not reveal Viserys was not marrying Arianne and Rhaenys would be most likely wedding Willas Tyrell if the man ever got his head on straight about loving the princess. He wanted to take Daenerys away from all the silver born Aegons and give her to Jon, but it would take more than the Direwolves help to keep him alive.

Life was simpler when he was hidden from danger and enemies’ eyes in the black cells. The lad was out of the bottle, and he couldn’t be shoved back in now. The Starks needed to get Jon in The North to protect him properly. Aerion was probably already sending people south to take Jon home, even if the tale was, he awaited Daenerys in his ‘fortress’ Aerys did not believe it.

Aerys wondered about the golden boy at Jon’s side, everyone was right, he did look like Jaime Lannister. Was he a hidden assassin sent by Tywin to kill Aerys favourite grandson? Tywin would have such an insidious plan, after all he was going to sack the city and probably have his monsters kill his own granddaughter, Rhaenys. Aerys would command Arthur to stick to Jon like tar. He might like Cersei of late, but he trusted no Lannister.

He needed to talk to Rhaella! Find out about all these children she came home trailing like a mother duck.  She deserved to have a trail of children, but her own not some ragtag group. Speaking of his sister, he had to talk to her about that bee in her bonnet with House Tyrell.

Still not happy Rickard! He scowled at the lord.

I don’t think the world cares Aerys. Rickard said with a shrug.

Chapter Text

Kasmira, the Blade of Fire stood before the great white wood throne. She drank in the majesty of the throne room.

“Where is Duncan?”

“I do not know.” Kasmira answered offhandedly as if it were not the entire point of this audience.

“It is your job to know, or must I send inquiry to the golden Blade? Is he more reliable to the throne than a Blade of Fire?”

“Not at all. Now, Jon Snow, he I can enlighten you to his whereabouts. He is in Kings Landing.”

“I am naming him Duncan.” Aerion growled, he would not call him Aegon as Aerys would want.

“Why? I understand you respected Prince Duncan but he was named after a knight, one you have no association with. He has lived his life as Jon, let him have this.”

“The name he was tortured under; the name he was sold under to slavery. No, he will not have that name.” Aerion wanted to break someone – Aerys – in revenge.

“It is also the name he has grown into. A name with prestige in this realm, many great Kings were named Jon, it is a Stark name and an ancestral name of your own lineage. No one will think Jon short for Aegon here, it will speak of the relation he has to his First Men blood.” Kasmira replied calmly.

“Do you think I will not punish you for opposing me?”

“Your grace, Kasmira was not being treacherous.” Myra tried to calm the volatile king, wishing he had the calm of any other version of him.

“You too Chancellor?” Aerion growled.

“Don’t try to save me Myra, I can handle myself. What happened to the little boy I watched?”

He stood in his anger. “The southerners took his wife and son from him and now they have my grandson.”

“Do you think Queen Valyri would condone this behaviour or the attitude and bile you hold for her cousins whom she loved?”

“Jaehaerys, had her…”

“Death would not change your queen and yes, it was Jaehaerys, not Aerys or Rhaella, nor was it their children.”

“You said Aerys tortured the lad.” He had a right to be wrathful at Aerys, he would not be mollified.

“But not Rhaella and her children. We know House Stark has petitioned many times to have him returned to them and almost all residents of the Seven Kingdoms had no idea he even lived, so going wholesale slaughtering would be unworthy of this throne and this crown.” Kasmira would not shift, she was angry too but Jon had a benevolent heart and would not wish to be punishing anybody, the Knight of Flames did his service to Prince Rhaegar he helped Jon to be a fine and forgiving man.

“Why did you give that task to the girl? I do not want her in my fortress or in my realm.”

“Because she went and got him.” She answered shortly.

“Rhaellla went to get him.” Aerion knew the girl would never have gone to rescue his grandson.

“But when he was abducted, Rhaella sat in a storm cloud and Daenerys went into the desert to retrieve him. He was purchased in Daenerys’ name.”

“Fine, but you invited her here.” He pointed at the floor. “That was not necessary.”

“House Targaryen of Summer stole our only prince, we will steal their only princess.”

“Aerys has a granddaughter according to your own intelligence.” Aerion wanted to wring the neck of every Targaryen from below The Wall, except his grandson of course.

“My intelligence says she is not by blood, only name.”

“Does he know and care she is not his?”

“He knows but does not care after all these years.” The Blade updated her king.

“Then why should I? I have no interest in stealing a princess from Aerys.”

“He stole your son, steal his daughter.” Myra agreed, because this world was no different. Jon needed his Dragon Queen. She gave him purpose for self that no one else did. Jon would never care if his share was taken, unless that share was Daenerys and the Mother of Dragons would soften completely for no man but her Northern Bastard King. The joining of their fires was enough to bring the dawn.

“I don’t want her.”

“You are not the Targaryen king that matters in this choice of yes or no, to having Daenerys Stormborn being here.” Myra informed him.

“I must depart it is evening and Sansa is trying to nullify the nuptials.” Aerion looked out at the rising sun, it had not even reached its zenith. Kasmira however had a Queen with child to protect, wondering which day would see Daenerys or Anastasia ask for Sansa Stark’s head.  She started making different plans to facilitate that for her queen.

“I will go with you, at least that Aerion is not so hard to manage.” Myra did not like or trust any of Jon’s siblings that shared their Stark blood with Tully. This opinion was from Kasmira’s reports of their actions but she knew the Blade would not exaggerate this.

“I beg your pardon?!” Aerion glared at his chancellor.

“You know how volatile you are, I am glad your Dragon is elsewhere, and you have no others to ride to Kings Landing.” Myra then opened a door and crossed the shadow to join Aerion as he went to cerebrate Jon and Daenerys’ second wedding, in Winterfell and aid his grandson to defeat the Night.

Aerion was livid, if only Tyrlinin was here to ride south, but she wasn’t. The curse of Dragons or at least the ones his lineage interacted with so often.  Beasts like Valyrian Dragons could exist in any realm and multiples of themselves. Myra, Kasmira, and Tyrlinin could cross worlds so there was only ever one of them unless they choose to live mortally, which could apparently occur. Aerion would not wait in his Fortress for this girl, he would wait at the edge of his realm so when she came he was waiting, he just had to wait until Tyrlinin to cross back into this world, or ask House Eagleson to provide transport.

Maybe he should just ask James Eagleson, or contact Lady Hybri, she had a dragon mount, she would aid him to see Duncan returned.  Yes, he would contact the girl, get her to come to him and help him cross the land to camp at the Fist of the First Men.

Aerion sent an eagle to Winterrise asking Hybri for aid in his endeavour to have her distant cousin returned to him. This was not just about Jon, Aerion needed to check on the girl, ensure her caretakers were treating her correctly.  The pain of losing his wife, and son then knowing he had a grandson he could not touch was too great when Hybri became an orphan at a young age. Aerion should have brought her to the Fortress and raised her a princess, but with Jon out of reach, he could not raise the young girl so left her to caretakers.

They kept him abreast of any news about the girl. She was beautiful and had strawberry blonde hair.  She was shy though and barely spoke to anyone, House Eagleson had kept an eye on her too. James said she was a delightful girl but she would not say a word to any but her servants, his grandson who was only a couple of years elder had tried forming a friendship because she was so painfully alone, had very little luck in getting her to speak, though she allowed Rafe at least to enter her castle and occupy the same room as her.

It was a concern. Aerion should have taken her in, but his pain and rage had been such that he would have been another trauma in the girl’s short life. He was regretful, but figured being shy was better than being terrified by living with him and his wrath.  He did feel Valyri would be disappointed in how he had handled the loss of her and would tsk at him about leaving a young child in the care of servants when she too had lost her whole world and had no family to hold.

Hybri answered his eagle by showing up, with Rafe Eagleson and his Great Eagle as escort.  Hybri knew Rafe and trusted him, even if she never engaged with him, and she worried how many strangers she would encounter in the Fortress.  She was shown into the throne room to an inquisitive Myra’s questioning eyebrow. 

“Great cousin, I have come as asked.” The girl spoke quietly and Aerion barely made out her words.  He was more regretful now of not taking the orphan girl in, she had not grown in confidence as a princess of the realm should.  He did not know why she used the title lady when she was a princess.

“Why have you asked Princess…”

“Lady.” Hybri corrected the Chancellor.

“Princess Hybri, here?” Myra would not use a false title, enough had been stripped from this girl in her life.

“I need transport as Tyrlinin is away.”

“You know Hybri’s mount cannot incinerate a castle.” If he had war plans, he had the wrong type of Dragon. Yes as a Dragon it breathed fire and could do raids on an enemy, but it would never melt a castle, a squad of men at best.

“I only needed transport, I have no plans to go to war.” He did not just have to wait for this girl or have her in his fortress. “Yet.”

“I will take you across the Frostfangs and into the Haunted Forest but no further.  I will not chance her with The Night’s Watch.  Noone is shooting down my Dragon.” Hybri whispered.

“I will go along as escort in the event you need defence.” Rafe would not let the princess go into the world alone, he had to ensure she was as safe as could possibly be.

Aerion was disgusted and Rafe so concerned for the princess and her safety he more pulled his king off her Dragon and sent her back into the sky, than aided him down from Hybri’s mount.

“What does he think he is doing?” Aerion cursed.

“What are you doing?” Rafe asked with a sharpness to his tone. “Your vengeance could have put Hybri in the sights of a Whitewalker. What if it left the babe and took the opportunity to get it’s commander blood of the royal line?”

“It still could, I am blood of the royal line.” Aerion reminded his vassal lord, wondering why Hybri’s safety was more important to the young man than his king’s.

“Aye, but if we cannot get your grandson back Hybri is our only option for your dynasties continuance.”

“Duncan has been found.”

“Hybri has never been lost and until he is north of The Wall he is still lost to our realm and Hybri your only heir.” Rafe had no patience for the man who bemoaned his losses but ignored what he had. Hybri was a broken shelled Dragon because Aerion could not see outside his own pain.  He had aided the loss of Hybri’s childhood and confidence.

Aerion gazed at this angry young lord and would have raged at him to be silent, but he had another problem, Craster was feeding babies to the Night King to fuel his Whitewalker generals, how long had this been happening, was Craster the only example of the abhorrent action? How many generals did the Night King have? How vast was his army?

“Also, you have not set a defence line in your wrath and we have no idea to the enemies army’s strength. In fact your rage and navel gazing has put Duncan or whatever his name is in greater danger. How many more dead must he survive because you let the enemy multiply?”

Aerion must do something. He looked at Rafe and his eagle. “I will ask you one service before you go.  We will await the next offering and your Eagle and yourself will kill the man who would sacrifice his sons before the Walker comes to take it, I will then deal with his wives.”

“How are you going to deal with his wives?”

“Send them to The Wall or Hardhome, the option will be theirs.”

“What knowhow do they have to make that decision?”

“I cannot make the entire world right.”

“I suppose we will have to hope Duncan lives up to his destiny and can.” Rafe did not look convinced some mysterious boy could fix the world.

Chapter Text

Alerie Tyrell was woken late in the night, a white cloak was asking to talk to her. She left Mace to sleep and went out to hear what the kingsguard had to say. She was not expecting Lord Commander Hightower to be darkening their door.

“Lord Commander.” She bowed her head in respect for Gerold Hightower. “What brings you to my door at this late hour?”

“An early warning. I will be back tomorrow at dawn to inform your House they are to vacate the city under Queen Rhaella’s command. Now, she has returned she has taken special insult for offering a third son to the first daughter of House Targaryen. You will need to be gone by dusk.”

“I knew it was a mistake but no one can disagree with the Queen of Thorns.” Alerie cursed her good-mother’s arrogance. “All of us?”

“Why do you ask?” Lord Commander Gerold wondered if he could get the confirmed inside scoop for his king.

“Margery has become quite enamoured with her betrothed and will not wish to leave the city while he stays.” She was more worried about Willas though, she was sure the first daughter of House Targaryen was on the mind of the first son of House Tyrell.

“I believe he will be setting his eyes north soon, and Aerys may allow Margery to stay if she leaves with Lord Stark and his family, as his family.”

“I do not wish to send her off north alone, I will give her time to say her farewells to him.”

“Any other issues?” Gerold needed to know if Willas was invested or not, because if Aerys pardoned him and he broke Rhaenys heart more, House Tyrell would burn.

“Not that I am confident enough about to reveal.” Alerie exhaled heavily, why did Olenna have to meddle.

“See you at dawn.”

“Thank you for the warning.” Alerie set to making sure her husband and children would be ready to pack up and go.  She was lucky Mace was a heavy sleeper by dawn she and he were packed to exit Kings Landing and the trunks were outside her children’s rooms. Olenna could look after herself.

The next morning Daenerys was called into the throne room before she even had a chance to visit Jon or finish her breakfast. Aerys asked his princess to give Jon’s care to him.  The king had been awake most of the night with visions of how Aerion would punish his daughter for his father’s sins and his own. He did not expect the answer she gave him.

“No.” She did not yell or screech, she said the word with finality and strength, but she said it serenely.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Aerys did however yell at his daughter.

“I mean Jon is my property and no I will not give him to you.”

“Slavery is forbidden in Westeros daughter.” He smiled at the trap he thought he had caught her in.

“Yet you sold him to a slaver.” She said calmly. “Also, I bought him in Meereen, so it was totally legal.”

“But now he is in Westeros you cannot own him.”

“I do not own him; he is my servant until he repays me for the inheritance, I spent buying him.”

“Which you inherited from me. So, he is my servant.”

“No, he is still mine because I went and got him.”

“You did no such thing, your mother went to get him and you tagged along.”

“But I bought him, and he is mine.” He was not going to take Jon away from her.

“I will pay you for your loss and then he can be mine.”

“I already told you Father. No.” She turned to leave the room; she was not sure how much bravery she had left.

“This is not over Daenerys. How do you think Aegon will like having Jon Snow trailing after his wife?” She had not considered it, mostly because after last night who did her father mean when he said Aegon?

“Aegon will bear it, or he can find himself another bride, because Jon Snow is not going anywhere until his debt to me is paid.” She would use this as excuse to offload any groom to keep Jon in reserve should the chance arise.

“He has no vocation, he will never repay the debt.” Aerys knew that too was probably part of her plan, his little girl did seem quite taken with the lad.

“Then I will have him around until the day one of us dies.” She continued out the door.

I will happily keep him forever.

“Which may be sooner because Aegon will not lose a bride for a bastard.”

“I have no fear, Father. Jon was the Champion of Meereen, he could easily defend himself from a puffed-up prince like Aegon.” She had no real knowledge of either Aegon’s proficiency with weapons but surely Jon was a better fighter.

“With what?”

“The finest sword I can buy him.”

“You can’t because you spent everything buying him.” Daenerys pouted, her father was right she had no idea she had so much money before she bought Jon, well mother bought Jon with Daenerys’ money and now she had very little left.

“My father says Aegon might kill you.” Jon laughed but stopped when he saw her worried face.

“Aegon will not.” He said trying to swallow his bottom lip to hold in the laughter that would upset her.

“Aegon has the finest armour and sword money can buy.” It was a true worry for Daenerys. Aegon would be smarting this morning after last night which might mean he would be more possessive of her and their betrothal. She needed her mother to convince her father to suspend it.

“And the softest head incest can make.” Daenerys frowned again; she was a product of that same deplorable tradition. “I am sorry that is not true. I believe I had noted your brother Viserys’ head may be softer. Again, sorry, I have noticed since we returned his head has hardened up, so Aegon has the softest head.”

“Jon. This is not funny.” She glared at him and his constant amusement about his possible death or injury.

“It in fact is. Mayhaps not to those of your social strata, but to mine. Hilarious.” He even slapped his knee to empathise the hilarity of it all.

“Why?”

“Because neither of them has had to do anything to get anything they have, they will fold at the first try.” He laughed again and walked out of the room. When he did not seem about to return Daenerys followed to see where he was going. He walked down the corridor and was heading out of the residential part of the keep.

“Jon where are you headed?”

“I am tired and going to go to sleep.” It occurred to her she had made no thought about that part of the arrangements. She wanted to make sure he was safe and where she could see him, but he could not stay in her rooms as it would be unseemly. But her father had said the apartments of last night were for then only.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Which is where?”

“My cell.” As the words left his mouth he stopped walking, realising he had just said the Black Cell was his home. It had not even occurred to him to go back to the rooms they had all been given for their first night.

“Jon you cannot sleep there, you are no longer a prisoner.”

“Then where do I belong?” He suddenly realised the answer was nowhere. It was amusing to annoy Aerys with the fact Rhaella had purchased Jon in Daenerys’ name to get him out of Essos and free to Westeros, but truth was he had nowhere to be free here or anywhere.

Close to me. Daenerys thought with an internal sigh.

“We will find you a bunk somewhere.” Everyone had been moved from their initial apartments and Geron had returned to the ship for his bunk. Egg and Visenya were given quarters closer to Princess Elia, Missandei and her mistress were in extra rooms of the queen’s. Jon had not checked to see where he was to be settled.

“I have never really lived out of a cell; how do I live out of a cell?” He looked down at his feet and hands. “How do I live without chains? I have never been free. I don’t know how to be free.”

“I will teach you.” He stared at her as she took his hand and lead him away from the dungeon stairs. “We will start with clothes, new clothes, like the ones in Meereen, when you played the harp for me.”

“You hated that.” He recalled how very much she disliked it. Ran crying from the room, did not like.

“No, I didn’t.” She had loved it, him playing his harp beautifully for her, sitting there together with no boundaries dividing them.

“Yes, you did. You didn’t even smile and then you got angry at me and ran away in tears.” He looked forlorn.

“You said something stupid.”

“I did not.” He backed up a step, he had no freedom to be stupid in his life up to now, he was always wary for the next moment.

“Yes, you did you said it would be a worthy death to tell my father you were of House Targaryen and see him rage.”

“So, What was stupid about that?” He really did not see how that was stupid.

“It was not a worthy death. Why do you want to die?”

“I don’t but I have no choice, everyone does it.”

“But you … But. Jon do not jest about dying.”

“Why? Death is my most constant companion. I have walked with him longer than anyone else. Even Ghost is not as close to me as Death is.” Which reminded him he needed to find Ghost.

“It is not funny.” She started to tear up.

“I was not jesting.” She looked at him and saw he was being serious. “I am sorry if this upsets you princess, but it is the way my life has always been. I cannot fear dying or my soul would already be dead. But I want to die that way I choose, not what your father says or the Slave Masters of Meereen or even Visenya Blackfyre. I want to die free.”

“You are free.”

“No, I am a servant until I repay my debt to you. Still not free. Just not as oppressed.”

“You think I am oppressing you?” Her voice reduced to a squeak, she hated that he thought that of her.

“You are a Targaryen that is what your family does. Conquerors, tyrants and oppressors. It is the whole point of the ugly chair your family sits. The Irone Throne is a symbol of conquest, tyranny and oppression.”

“But you think I am oppressing you?” That stung.

“No, Daenerys your heart is kind, but given the right circumstance you too may become a tyrant.”

“Really?”

“That is how I will repay part of my debt.” He looked at her sad eyes. “Diverting you from being a tyrant. Keeping you gentle and loving.” She stared at him.

“How do you plan to do that?”

“I don’t know. I will discern a way; I am pretty smart if I do say so myself.” He smiled at her, and she forgot all the sad things they had discussed.

“I hear princess you have need of a sword.” A masculine voice came from her door and there leaning casually against its frame was a silver haired man with a streak of black and a mischievous smile. Jon took a defensive position before the princess, not knowing how the man had gotten past the guards.

“How did you hear that?” Daenerys asked with a slight tremble to her voice wondering the same thing Jon was.

“Grandfather was torturing mother.” Came Aegon the Blue’s familiar voice, “telling Aegon the Silver fake that he may have to run Jon here through with a sword. Lord Dayne here offered his, then clarified to Silver that he meant he would offer his to Jon.”

“It is no Blackfyre, but I think you can still fillet him with it.” Darkstar wondered where Blackfyre was as the last Blackfyre did not have it.

“Aren’t you sworn to protect House Martell?” Jon asked suspiciously.

“No. Why would I be?” Gerold asked confused.

“Sworn to Martell, your House words.” Jon had been given enough instruction to know real basics. As it was the House of his favourite knight, Sir Arthur, he had taken special care to remember everything.

“Those aren’t my House words.”

“They are the words of House Dayne.” Jon reminded Darkstar he was in disguise.

“Right, and I am a Dayne.” Darkstar said in a tone that said he had somehow forgotten that fact.

“You protect Princess Elia and her children.” Jon reminded him.

“Yeah, so Elia, Rhaenys and this little cutie.” He pinched Aegon’s cheek. “Pretty sure Silver isn’t her son. He is probably Visenya’s real cousin. Like Bluey is Daenerys’ real nephew.”

“Maybe your father meant Aegon the Blue will kill me.” Jon looked at Daenerys brightly.

“How is that better?” She asked exasperated.

“Hey, Blue want to duel?” Jon turned to Egg.

“No.” Egg said firmly. “You would stick a sword through my guts in two seconds.”

“I win, and you were worried.” Jon laughed at Daenerys.

“No, Grandfather could not have been speaking about me, as I have told him, that I cannot marry my own aunt. It is against my religious beliefs.” Aegon said over his shoulder as he sat.

“When did you tell him that?” Gerold was sure his little twin had not run into the madman.

“Whenever I see him.” Egg grinned with mischief at Gerold.

“Ooh, I like you.” Darkstar grinned back.

“What religion prohibits that?” Daenerys was curious, she would join said religion immediately.

“The northerner religion Sir Geron is devoted to.” Aegon said informatively. “Also, we need to stop calling Aegon – the other one – Silver he is averse to it. So, I am happy to return to being called Egg, as we said last night.”

“What? Do you not like Blue?” Darkstar asked.

“If your name was Aegon, what would you have them call you?” Aegon asked the knight.

Darkstar smiled. “If I was born Aegon Targaryen, I would want people to call me … Gerold Dayne.” He grinned as if he thought he had just said the greatest joke, but the younger people were just confused. “Tell me dark boy, if your mother was considering calling you Aegon Targaryen when you were born, what would you wish to be known as?”

“Well, as I am most definitely not a silver haired Valyrian descendant, so had no chance of being called Aegon Targaryen, I would wish to be named whatever she called me.” Though Jon did know he had a chance he was called Aegon Targaryen, he had no wish to put his toe in that quagmire.

“How nice and respectful of you, one question. Why does a Targaryen have to have silver hair?” Darkstar asked with a raised right eyebrow.

“They all are.” Jon covered quickly for himself, and hoped it worked.

“Not true. Crown Prince Duncan, the Prince of Dragonstone and Dragonflies, was not just dark of hair but black of hair, much like yourself.”

“Yes, but I am a northerner not from Baratheon stock.”

“True, still my point was not all Targaryens have been silver.” Though Darkstar knew even from Northerner stock, Duncan was from Baratheon and as his great grandson so would Jon be.

“Except most are, one being dark does not mean Targaryens are suddenly going to start being born with black hair.” Darkstar laughed, because to his knowledge more than one Targaryen prince was Black of Hair, and as he caught a glimpse of Princess Daenerys’ dreamy eyed look at the dark lad, he guessed she was hoping some of her children would be born black haired.

House Tyrell was woken in a thunder as dawn’s light stained the sky, Kingsguards and Targaryen guards were at their door waking them with a roar. Olenna came out in her sleeping robes and cap to see what was going on.

“What is this?”

Lord Commander Hightower stepped forward and unfurled a scroll. “By order of his grace, King Aerys, King of the Seven Kingdoms, for the pleasure of his wife Queen Rhaella, House Tyrell and all its indentured are commanded to vacate the capital of the realm.  Now our queen has returned to her sovereign soil and heard of the insult to her first and beloved granddaughter by the offer of a third born son who has a proclivity for male acquaintance, she has declared and King Aerys has ratified the exile of the House Tyrell by sundown today, from her city.” Alerie glared at Olenna.

“They’ll never know Loras has a liking for men rather than women. She’d be in Highgarden before anyone knew he would not honour her or their marriage properly.” Alerie threw her hands in the air and slapped her husband. “Your mother’s arrogance and your weakness had endangered my children. As Lord of our House you should have overruled her.”

“I... I…” Mace stammered.

“Ride your horse off a cliff like your father and take Olenna with you, so Willas can fix more of your mistakes and The Reach does not get burnt to cinders.” Alerie went for broke, no one knew she had a heads up so she could act as angry as she wanted. She then stormed out of the room to help Margery and Loras start packing.

Alerie’s major problem with this exile was Willas, he stared at the bottom of his trunk with no will to fill it. He knew after he went home, he would probably never see Rhaenys again, and just after he realised he might have a little more regard for her than that of a friend. Prince Oberyn would marry her off and Willas would only hear murmurs of her life, no more friendly letters, no more walks in gardens and the kingswood, no more princess.

“I will speak to the queen immediately.” Olenna declared, she knew Rhaella was just worried for her granddaughter and unlike her insane husband could be reasoned with.  The queen had promised to aid Olenna to get Willas a suitable wife and ensure his leg did not adversely affect his marriage prospects. Olenna could calm her down.

“We will pack because I have no faith in you.” Alerie called.  She spoke to Margery about seeking Robb before they left and saying goodbye. Alerie would send Lady Ashara a raven to arrange getting Robb and Margery’s nuptials happening.

Alerie was right, Olenna tried to seek the queen and was refused an audience, was told directly to leave the keep before the queen had her thrown out. Rhaella had no interest in talking to Olenna, she was livid after her offer to ensure Olenna’s grandchild was not encumbered by his disability that Olenna had insulted her grandchild in return. Olenna was insistent and finally the queen came to meet her at the gate, Olenna smiled until the Queen was within speaking distance, her face a storm cloud.

“Lady Olenna let me return the favour.” Before Olenna could ask to what Rhaella referred or say anything the queen very unceremoniously spat in her face, then stalked away. “If she does not leave, mount her head upon the gates.” The storm of their queen had the castle guards frozen in shock.

All the guards could do was draw their swords, should the lady not leave.  Olenna saw she had made a giant faux par, and she knew her mistake, now she sat between two enemies who wanted her blood for the same reason: House Targaryen and Willas, for insult to the princess.

When Aerys heard what his queen had done, he immediately sent everyone away and giggled like a little boy while Rickard smiled with pride of his queen. Aerys may still have to free Willas to stay for Rhaenys but Lady Olenna, the Queen of Thorns being schooled by the Queen of Fire, and her being burnt, tickled Aerys funny bone no end.  He wasn’t sure he loved his sister quite as much as in this moment.

Aerys did send a reprise at the last moment to Lord Willas asking him to present himself mid-morning the following day, which had the packed and disappointed man somewhat relieved. He didn’t know how he would have borne his grandmother on the trip home or in Highgarden after she cost him so much personally. He hoped staying had not been a mistake.

Margery got her farewell with Robb and said she hoped to see her new home soon, as their mothers worked everything out. Robb reassured her he would still have had Greywind eat Aerys entrails if he hurt her. Margery returned to Highgarden excited for when she got to leave it to be with Robb and start learning to be a northern lady.

Aerys had forgotten why he wanted to see Willas by their meeting apparently and said he could stay as Aerys knew grain was important to the realm, but only Willas and Aerys would send guards at random intervals to check there were no loose rose buds in residence.  Willas assured Aerys his House was humbled by Queen Rhaella’s anger and if he could revive his Houses honour and trust in anyway for the insults to the king’s granddaughter, Willas would attempt it.

Aerys smiled to himself, now he needed to get rid of Oberyn and start looking for a new wife for Viserys.  He needed to talk to his queen, which turned out harder than he thought to do. So, he checked on another problem.

Egg found his mother’s attention highly suffocating to the usual he was used to. She barely allowed him out of her sight and Egg sensed a tension between the knight protector, Gerold Dayne and his mother. Rhaenys was a delight to meet as she embraced the idea of a new brother with gusto.  She did explain Darkstar.

“He is our Aerys approved protector and my adopted brother.”

“Don’t tell people that.” Darkstar worried for her safety should that or anything get around.

“I will trust our adopted brother until your other brother, calms down.” Egg had not thought how his homecoming would affect his decoy, he regretted the result. Aegon was off-kilter and Egg worried he may be dangerous to someone, him or Jon to be exact.

“Don’t trust me I am a Dayne who refuses to be sworn to Martell.”

“As I don’t know Martell to trust them, what do I care if you have an aversion to their House? No, I will trust you because my sister says we do.” Egg smiled at Rhaenys. He already loved the girl and was all for helping her with Darkstar, even if he alienated his mother’s House.

Chapter Text

After a few failed days, Aerys recruited aid. “I have need to speak to your mother.” Aerys appeared in the library without warning, which had Viserys put his book down.

“Why are you telling me?”

“In private.”

“Again, Father why are you telling me?” Viserys asked confused. “If Mother was in the room, I would understand it was a brush off and get out but she isn’t. She is barely anywhere since her return.”

“Because she is always with that lump of rugs.”

“Lump of rugs?”

“The heavily smothered in blankets woman she brought back as a pet.”

“I doubt Mother has kept a woman as a pet.” Viserys scoffed. His mother was too kind.

“Have you spoken to the lump.”

“No, because she doesn’t speak. To anyone but her little interpreter. Even then she is so quiet you cannot hear her.”

“Well, I need to talk to your mother, and I need the lump away.” When Viserys gave a quick shake of his head to say he still was unsure why he was being told this, Aerys huffed. “I need you to do something with the lump.”

“Firstly, she has a name.” Viserys thought a moment. “I don’t know what it is, but she has to have one. She is a hermit; she may not like me carrying her off.”

Aerys laughed. “Great jest! Carry her off like a rug.”

Viserys sighed. “Not what I was aiming for.”

“Take her somewhere so I can talk privately to your mother.”

Aerys appeared at the door to the Queen’s Chambers with his son in tow. Viserys was shaking his head about the whole situation but knew if they were to save his mother’s guest from insult he needed to take her out of his father’s influence, and his loose tongue.

“What are you doing here, brother?”

“We need to talk. Privately.”

Rhaella looked at her son, she had hardly had a chance to see him since her return, as she looked at him, he reminded her of a young Aerys, when he was sane.  She noted he appeared calmer than when she left, like a change had come over him, was it Arianne Martell? “And Viserys?”

“I am to take your distractions away.” He answered quickly before his father said the guest was Lump. When his mother looked confused by his reference, he decided to explain before his father did offensively. “Your guest, so she still has a host.”

“My guest, is very shy.”

“I wasn’t thinking of taking her into the city to a festival Mother. Just away so she is saved from Father.”

“Excuse me?” Aerys asked offended.

“For you Father.”

“Oh, alright. Yes, Viserys has agreed to host your guest so we can speak.”

“I will see.” Rhaella went back into her rooms and without askance Aerys followed then came back to drag Viserys in too. They watched as the coffee skin girl spoke to the guest and got a response of a vigorous shaking of her head.

Viserys wondered how she endured the heat in those heavy clothes, he did not even know how she heard anything Missandei whispered to her. He was not surprised she shook her head vigorously, but he wondered if she could do anything vigorous with those heavily things.

“Tell her, no. Reassure her that I will keep her perfectly safe, no harm or corruption will come to her.” Viserys had watched recently how the bad attitude worked on people, Aegon had been abrasive since Daenerys left and worse since she returned with the boy from the Black Cell. He blamed himself, he had teased Aegon that he should be wary, Essos was where the king had sent the Black Cell boy, Daenerys may never return if she glimpsed him over there.

“|Mistress, Prince Viserys wishes to reassure you, you will not be corrupted while in his influence.|” Missandei spoke softly to her Mistress, reluctantly she agreed. And both women came to stand near the prince.

Viserys awkwardly lead them out so his parents could speak.

Aerys settled in for a long conversation and Rhaella eyed him cautiously. “What was so important and secret?”

“I have made a deal with Princess Elia, about these Aegons.”

“Oh.” That was quick, it had only been a few days and Aerys was a hard mind to wrangle, maybe Elia was more like her brothers than Rhaella thought.

“We agreed before you came home, or while you were on your way. Anyway before you were back.” The king waved his arms around to say timelines were not part of his need to speak. “Tell me about all these children you are trailing and why you brought them home to me.” He took a conversational about face.

“I am sure you expected Jon and do not need him explained.”

“Thanks to that huge number of Dragons on that tiny piece of paper.” Aerys went red with rage over the memory of reading that number. Rhaella smiled that it had worked so perfectly. “Were you getting him gilded? That was a very big number Rhea.”

“It was a very important purchase.”

“Maybe he should have been left to earn his freedom.”

“Don’t make me stab you brother.”

“Why did you have Daenerys purchase him?”

“As my husband, what I own you own. I was not having you own Jon.” Rhaella looked at her brother critically. “Did you know there was another Aegon in Essos?” She doubted it was a surprise considering his words at the dinner.

“I knew Connington was raising him.”

“Which is really Aegon? Do you even know?”

“I know who the real Aegon is.” It wasn’t a lie, but he could not inform her of the mess that was Elia’s Aegons.

“Do not tell me Jon.”

“Though his name is Aegon, I meant Elia’s Aegon.” Aerys should trust Rhaella with all the truth, and he did, but the walls had ears, and if he was honest, he only trusted Rickard that much. “What can you tell me of this Blue Aegon and the Blackfyre girl?”

“I believe this Blue Aegon is truly Elia’s son he has many features in common with his mother and sister. He is a good and kind lad, Connington raised him to be a prince worthy of his father.”

“High praise.” Aerys understood she meant Rhaegar but Rhaegar was not the lad’s father.  Aerys also saw the similarities to the Blackfyre girl. Then the silver lad also looked similar to the girl.

“Lady Visenya is strong-willed and has no respect for protocols. I believe she wished to make Jon king.”

“I too wished to make him king.” Aerys smiled, maybe he did like the girl, even with her Blackfyre blood and name.

“You could have fooled everyone.”

“I hope I did.”

“Anyway she had plans to use Jon to topple us and start a Blackfyre dynasty with her as the first Blackfyre queen.”

“What!?”

“Exactly as I said, she was going to have Jon topple us, then marry him and be the first Blackfyre queen.”

“I would never allow that even if Darkstar fell in love with her and married her.”

“What? What would Gerold Dayne’s desires have to do with Visenya being queen?”

“Nothing.” Hells! He almost revealed it all.  “Just saying whatever strange circumstance occurred, I would never agree to her being queen.” Though, the deal was Viserys would be king, and he should have said if Viserys fell in love.

“Rhaella, I need to speak to you about finding Viserys a new queen.”

“Queen? Why would Viserys need a queen?” Rhaella wondered how off this world Aerys currently was. “He has a betrothed, Princess Arianne Martell.”

“Only until the last minute then we need to replace her.”

“What are you going on about?”

“Elia and I have agreed with all the Aegon issues, that no Aegon will be king, Viserys will and only if he has a wife other than Arianne Martell. We also are agreed she will lose her status of his betrothed just before the wedding and she is replaced. Then I will promote Viserys to Crowned Prince, due to all the Aegon confusion.” Aerys decided he could reveal this after all, Sir Gerold Hightower knew this would have come up and removed all Varys’ little birds.

“So, you have given up on Jon as King so quickly.” Good.

“I let the Winter King see him, fact is he is lost.” Aerys shrugged, he had a better idea now, Daenerys would marry Jon as a non-related Aegon or whatever Aerion named him.

“Jon is not his grandson.”

“We cannot say that.”

“We know.”

“I know, you do not.”

“What do you know?”

Aerys stared at his wife and sister silently, wondering should he tell her? He would need tell her about Rhaegar and that could shatter her, he needed her strong , strong enough to spit in the Queen of Thorns’ face. “Nothing I can definitively say now.”

“Or something you only think is real.”

“Could be. Then I could know more that is going on than others think. I knew of the two Aegons.”

“And didn’t tell me.” She spoke angrily.

“I did not know if Connington would ever bring him home. Why waste time on someone who would never show up.”

“We should have gone and gotten him.” Rhaella stated firmly.

“You did, so what’s to complain about?”

“Errahh, I could stab you!”

“I fear not your needles and Darkstar is not here to fulfil his desire.”

“What is with this Dornish knight?” Aerys was far to fascinated with this young man. There was something so familiar about the man, Rhaella wished she could put her finger on it.

“He is insolent and totally dedicated to his own desires, which are pro-us and anti-Martell currently. I think his black streak of hair has given him a rebellious streak and strangely I love it.” It was the truth, Darkstar was currently firmly pro-Targaryen. “Also, he protects Rhaenys like the brother she should have.” Mainly because he was the brother she should and did have.

“So, you want to replace Aegon as Crowned Prince.” It was extreme as a solution but maybe it would work for Daenerys, so long as Viserys did not decide he wanted his sister as his queen.

“No, I want Viserys to be king. He has stepped out of my shadow of late and I think he is not as cruel as I thought or as insane. He has become almost serene at times.”

“Maybe he recalls his brother and in emulating him.”

“Maybe.” Aerys thought that unfair to tie all good to Rhaegar, Viserys had crawled out of his spoilt stage all by himself and deserved the recognition.  He would never give it to him, but Rhaella as the sane parent should. “So, any suggestions for his bride?”

“Before the insult to Rhaenys I might have considered Lady Margery Tyrell.”

“No!” Aerys spat in fear. When Rhaella looked at him curiously he explained. “She is betrothed to Robb Stark, he has already threatened to feed me to his Direwolf twice, I do not wish to give him a third and good reason. I like my innards in my tummy not his Direwolf’s.” To empathise this he rubbed his abdomen. “Right in there.”

“How is he still alive?” Threatening Aerys was dangerous.

“Out of respect for his grandfather I let it slide, also, first time he tricked me about it. He is very sneaky, I liked it.” He grinned with childlike delight.

“What happened to you while I was away?” She had come back to a very different Aerys and political landscape. Now, no one could guess what Aerys was thinking or would do. He was more volatile than before, who knew what he would allow or execute you for.

“A great deal. I think Rhaenys fell in love and had her heart broken.  I can only guess as only Viserys and Darkstar really know.” Aerys pouted at his inability to quickly fix Rhaenys’ problem. “Elia had to face truths about her brothers scheming and I just got tired of some of my drama.”

“Some of your drama?”

“Yes, I am insane I have to keep some of it.” He raised his chin in the air and crossed his arms indignantly. “Any other suggestions?”

“The idea is new to me, I will need time to consider.”

“Alright.” Aerys rose and left his wife alone to think on the issue.

“Amazing.” Rhaella breathed.

Missandei’s mistress’ ability to survive under all that material amazed Viserys. He kept stopping for her to catch up to have her stop a millimetre from him before he had even stopped completely. She never bumped into him but she did move deftly under all that weight, he wondered how deft she would be without the many layer of material.

Not being sure where the ladies would enjoy visiting, Viserys took them to a garden, women liked beauty and Viserys had very little use for such in his life so he took them where Rhaenys usually dragged him to. “I hope this garden is to your liking.” He told the lady and waited for her interpreter to fill her in. He pointed to a bench. “Why don’t you both sit and enjoy the sunshine.”

After Missandei explained the two women took a seat. And Viserys took one across from them.  He pulled out his book and started to read again.

“Are we boring you?” Missandei asked after being prompted by her mistress.

“No. Why?”

“You are reading.”

“Should I juggle for you?” He smiled at his own amusement of the idea.

“If you do not wish to be with us...”

“I thought your lady would wish to have some peace, but if she wishes to converse please give me a topic?” After a small conference Missandei shook her head. “Well, I will give her and you peace to enjoy the view and serenity and you let me know when you are bored.”

Missandei was surprised that her mistress sat quietly without fidgeting as she always did under her robes, never feeling serene in any situation since she had run from her marriage. Missandei did understand, this prince had a serene demeanour as he read, he was nothing like Daenerys had described him, was it an act for her mistress? Or was this how he was when no one was watching?

She had been the last in a long line of daughter’s, she had caused her mother’s death and been given a terrible name for it from her grieving father, Death’s Rose. It had made men think they did not need to treat her as well as her station, it had meant her father had trouble finding a husband who would pay to wed her.

What he found to be her husband, was not worthy to be anyone’s husband. He had a reputation for harming his wives, some had died strange of circumstance, but he had wealth so usually fathers of lower status did not care. Her father’s status was so he should care who his daughters were purchased by. She knew her inference that she was as much a slave to be sold as the house slaves of her family was insulting to her father, but it was true. Daughters were slaves to their father’s prestige and wealth.

She had not wished to marry the man, not wishing to be his next dead wife, he was gluttonous in many facets, and he was ugly and bloated by the wealth he had accumulated, making fathers not look at how worthy he truly was of their daughters. He bought the silent deaths of women with his opulence, and even if her father and brothers could not see it, she was intelligent enough to perceive what no one would speak of. How worthy was this man for any woman?

Her father had never given her much value, angry as men sometimes are at children who took their beloved wives from them.  She had been freer than her sisters, they had to learn to be good wives and spent many hours practising the art of being a wife. She had learnt and had not push to perfect, so didn’t; used her time to learn more manly pursuits, reading books girls did not read, learning to ride horses and be a divergent woman.

She found these Westerosi strange, they had no slaves and allowed their women to show not just their faces but their feminine shape. Everything was mostly covered, but still they were so free. She had not come here to remove her veil and cloths, or to be free as a man; she had come here to be free of one man, her husband-to-be.

She spent most of the afternoon simply staring at the Prince reading his book, with no desire to order her and Missandei to do or be anything.  She had heard Daenerys’ derision of this brother’s actions in the past and tried to see that man in this one. She could not, he was it seemed content to read his book and make no demands on the ladies.

Even prized wives like her mother had been, were expected to serve their husbands and other men in their family at all times, something she had not practised but knew. She supposed she wasn’t a wife or woman of his family but she had not seen him make the demands of his sister, Princess Daenerys either.

Perhaps Daenerys had the issue of siblings colouring her experience of the prince, but this stranger was not a sibling to see all the ways siblings annoyed each other by simply being. She had enough siblings to understand siblings were born to rub each other in some way, for good or ill. He did not look to be annoyed he had been lumped with host duty due to his father’s desires for privacy with his mother.

She had a hundred questions she wanted to ask him as an adult closer to her age than all the teens she had been bunked with. She had thought maybe she could become friends with the dark haired princess as she also was closer to her own age, but the girl was suffering something and was not looking at the foreign woman as a possible friend.

“|What are you thinking mistress?|” Missandei was getting to know her so well even with all her covering the girl could guess she was gazing at the prince, with questions.

“Is your Mistress alright, do you need anything, refreshments?” Prince Viserys looked up from his book at the first noise from his guests.

“|No, refreshments. Wondering how I will acquaint myself with people. Will I be as ignored here as I was at home?|” She trust Missandei like no other person.

“No refreshments. Thank you.” Missandei answered the prince. “Prince Viserys, will not your betrothed be questioning where you are?”

“Doubtful, she has her cousins to keep her company.” He said as if bored, but he doubted Arianne had made it out of original Aegon’s bed yet. He was sure Aegon had needed much soothing after the disastrous dinner where he found out he wasn’t who he thought. Poor Aegon, as his uncle I should check on him.

“If your brother married into her family, why are you?”

“Cursed.” Viserys said quietly to himself.

“Sorry?”

“It is all politics to keep people from killing their royal family, make allies with marriage.”

“I understand the reasons, just not the doubling up of the same family.”

“Bad politics is more likely than good politics. She is one of the few Paramount Houses that have a daughter my age, would be my guess.”

“Do you not love her?”

“Marriage is rarely about love, I am sure your mistress would agree.” The woman’s head bobbed, so he guessed she agreed with him. “Poor Daenerys is stuck with Aegon, not the Blue-haired one, the silver haired boy, and that will never be love for her.”

“Because she loves Jon Snow?” Missandei did not need Daenerys to have told her, even though she had, it was evident from Daenerys’ reaction to the boy.

“Because Jon Snow lights her up and no other boy or man has even kept her interest for a day, or an hour, maybe even a minute. I should never have dared her to go down to the Black Cells, she would never have seen him if I hadn’t dared her.”

“You regret daring her.”

“No.” Viserys said with a chuckle. “I am glad I did, I just wish I had a way to help her escape Aegon and have the boy she obviously desires to be her husband. I regret other actions I did though.” Offering to set the lad’s arm alight was a big one. Being a spoilt prince and hurting his sister; not walloping Aegon for raising a hand to Daenerys and Rhaenys; trying to be his father’s son.

“I believe simply allowing her to find him, may see you loved by her forever.”

“I’d still like her to be happy and it is doubtful she will get this boy, so she will never be happy.” Viserys frowned, he really must help Rhaenys to get … Willas Tyrell, he was sure he had that right; and Daenerys to have this Jon Snow. He must work on these matching, not by meddling but by facilitating avenues to allow the desired outcomes to be.

“You love your sister very much.” Missandei had not gotten the impression from Daenerys but one afternoon with her brother and Missandei could see it.

Viserys nodded, he opened his book and looked up to the sun, it was dipping into the horizon, how long had they sat here? “I should get you back to your accommodation, it has gotten quite late.” As he stood so did his guests, they got in line behind him and let him guide them back to the queen’s chambers.

As Queen Rhaella farewelled her son for the evening, thanking him for taking care of her guests, the woman in robes contemplated the prince and his kindness to his mother and how she hoped maybe in time they could be friends. She hoped to see him again.

Another morning, another useless audience with the Mad King, he sent a message every night for Lord Willas to attend him, to discuss an important subject. Then the next morning would completely forget what it was, leaving Willas confused. This was all a waste of his time.

“Stand aside, Tyrell.” Came the growl of Rhaenys’ knight, Darkstar. “Wander aimlessly on your own time.”

Willas looked up to ask this knight what his problem was and saw. Princess Rhaenys was standing a couple of metres behind the knight and she looked frozen at the sight of him.

“Your highness.” He bent his head for his leg would allow no more.

“Lord Tyrell.” Rhaenys spoke his name with surprise. “I believed your House had left the city.”

“His grace, your grandfather gave me a reprieve.”

“How opportune.” She wasn’t sure if she should show her relief he was still in the city.

“How goes your search?” They both knew what search he spoke of.

“Slowly.” Did she catch a slight turn of Lord Willas’ lip at that news. No. Rhaenys determined not to take that as cause for celebration, their last meeting - crossing of paths - had seen her heart shattered.

“I am sure there are many lords wishing the decision was not in Martell hands.” He was sure of this for himself and he could not believe there weren’t others wishing to chance their attention on the beautiful princess.

“I wish the decision was taken out of Martell hands, so he would be right.” Darkstar nodded to the woman.

“Surely such a prestigious Dornish family would not be overlooked.” Willas had thought this knight was platonic in his relations with the princess.

Rhaenys chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be easy.”

“I am not husband material. Viserys?”

“Also, too easy.” Rhaenys’ eyes sparkled as she looked at Darkstar and the ideas of either man as her husband.

“If it is down to one of Oberyn’s choices, I shall do the chivalrous thing for you Rhaenys and save you.”

“Are you offering to …” She seemed shocked he would.

“Yes, I will assassinate the groom.” Rhaenys smiled at his jest, she wished more and more she could adopt Gerold Dayne officially, as she was now inundated with brothers what was one more.

“Thank you. I would not like blood on my conscience.”

“It is bold to state you would slay another lord.” Willas was wondering if this knight had any political training.

“Are you offering yourself Lord Tyrell? I would be careful, the last offer from your House was so heinous to the Queen, your entire family was evicted from the capital.” Darkstar dared Willas to be courageous before the young woman.

“I am sorry my grandmother, spat in your grandmother’s face.” Rhaenys was embarrassed by the whole situation that occurred because of her.

Willas’ eyes widened a little and then he laughed. “I am sorry, your grandmother spat in mine’s face.”

“Yes, surely she mentioned it.” Rhaenys imagined the other elder woman was livid by the treatment. “Why are you laughing?” Even Darkstar started to chuckle at the occurrence.

“There is no way Lady Olenna Tyrell would mention that, and …” He shook his head as his smile grew larger. “I love your grandmother’s response to the offer of Loras. We really should not have insulted you so.”

“Who would you have offered up?” Darkstar put a target on Willas’ head as Rhaenys turned all her attention to the Reach lord, she knew there were only three sons of House Tyrell, Willas had said Garlan was already wed, so would he name himself?

“Someone, of the princess’ choice.” Willas employed the famous Tyrell nous. Rhaenys exhaled slowly, she had hoped for a more personal answer. She nodded.

“That would make you different to other helpers Lord Willas. Most are selfish offering what is good for them.” Darkstar was also disappointed Willas had chickened out.

Rhaenys however proved her cloistered life had not affected her mind. “I would have  thought your choice would be the person my uncle would hate the most.”

“Why would I do that?” Willas would not wish the princess’ heart to be a political feather.

“He is to blame for your wonky leg. He has cost you much I would think.” Maybe she could tackle this in a different way, push old grudges.  Though she doubted Willas would feel it necessary to take revenge for his leg.

Wouldn’t that be a convenient excuse. Willas was almost tempted but he would not use Rhaenys as a revenge vector. Also, Willas held no bad feelings about his leg to Oberyn or Dorne, it had been an unfortunate accident. If there was anything he wanted vengeance about it would be that Oberyn would look at any Storm or Reach lord as a bad match. Mainly any Reach lord, or him in specific. “We will see if he costs me anything else of importance before I have a lifelong grudge against him.”

Darkstar rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t they just admit what he could see? If Oberyn didn’t miraculously choose Willas Tyrell, neither of them would be happy. He wasn’t a little cupid and the Goddess Love was not around yet, here. He stopped as he contemplated that. Not here yet, but already elsewhere. “Hmm.” Darkstar had both of his companions eyes on him. “What?”

“Yes, Gerold, what?” Rhaenys asked as he disappeared for a moment, in thought.

“Lord Dayne?” Willas would like to know if the thought was good for Princess Rhaenys.

“Just considering what lord might be the best groom for you, my princess. Taking all restrictions away and opening the field to all lords of the Seven Kingdoms. We might free you of incestuous marriages in my ideas.”

“Who are you leaning towards?” Willas got the distinct feeling Darkstar had a candidate in mind.

“Do you have Hightower cousins of the correct age range?” Darkstar knew the answer and had already discarded every idea but Willas, because Rhaenys had gifted her fragile and exquisite heart to the lord and as her brother Darkstar would assassinate any who got in his sister’s way.

“I can’t think of any.” He did and he did not think they suited Rhaenys as husband material. The princess required only the best example as her husband and Willas could think of at least one fault with all his cousins.

“Too bad, Aerys likes Sir Gerold Hightower and would consider any of his blood and House.”

“That does not mean they must be Hightowers, dear Darkstar. One does not need the name to have the blood. Hence why I am cursed by Martell blood.”

“If I was truly your brother, I too would curse my Martell blood. I would even refute House Targaryen to not be aligned with them.” Darkstar noticed his little twin being harassed by his fake twin. “Lord Willas, I need ask a service, please keep Rhaenys company while I go deal with a war of Aegons.”

“Sorry…” It was too late as Darkstar headed off to break up the Blackfyre Aegons.

“If you wish to go you may.” Rhaenys looked at her feet not wishing to see his desire to go. “There are enough guards to protect me in the Keep.”

“Thank you for the escape offer, but I am more worried about the ramifications of not doing your dark knight’s directions. I am not convinced he wouldn’t hunt me.”

“He wouldn’t if I told him not to.”

“I would prefer to not take the chance. Where were you headed?”

“I was trying to catch my uncle, Viserys. Grandfather has given him guest duty of late and I barely see him, and wished to connect with my eldest family contemporary.”

“Prince Viserys seems very protective as well.” Willas hoped the protectiveness of the prince and the knight would see Rhaenys happy.

“When have you seen Viserys?” They should never have had opportunity to meet.

“I had an audience with the king.”

“Was he nice to you?”

“He threatened to take my sister’s head.”

“Oh.” She looked sickened. “I am sorry.”

“It is alright, he got over it within the day. She is happily on her way to Highgarden, dreaming of Winterfell.” Willas smiled to himself for Margery’s joy, he was glad his little sister had found more than political necessity to go to Winterfell.

“Yes, well, she did seem quite taken with her betrothed, even though she arrived trying to catch my brother’s eye.”

“For that, I am sorry.”

“No need. Aegon appreciated it even if Robb Stark raised an eyebrow at it.” She paused in her speech and her walking. “I hate to ask this, but is your brother always… so… whimsy.”

Willas coughed in laughter. “Whimsy? I suppose, yes he can be.”

“Do men like that?” Rhaenys looked at Willas for his opinion.

“Some. Usually in girls but as to men liking men who are whimsy, I do not know. I have little to do with my brothers romantic circle.”

“Sorry, he just… He trailed after your grandmother so, easily.”

“Loras has had no reason to rebel and hasn’t.”

“Have you had cause to rebel Lord Willas, I hear civil war was imminent in your House before my grandfather’s edict.”

“I was not pleased with some of my grandmother’s opinions. It was not civil war.” It was outright rebellion and about to be usurpation if the king hadn’t kicked her out of the city. “Did the queen really spit in my grandmother’s face.”

“She took exception to the offer of Loras, for many reasons, not all of them my knowledge.”

“Well, it was pretty insulting.”

“I almost told him, Aegon’s bed was not near mine, so he should rethink his plan.”

Willas burst out laughing at her reply to the insult his House had given her. “Please tell me he didn’t.”

“Well, all I can say is I was not the Targaryen that got the look over. Aegon did not notice, too busy appreciating your sister. And if Margery hadn’t decided to uphold her betrothal to Lord Robb, another Tyrell would have taken him home to comfort him.”

“Please tell me the Starks did not notice that.”

“They did not. They might have, as Loras had no shame at his assessing glances.”

Willas shook his head. “I thought my grandmother taught us all to keep our eyes on the prize.”

“What prize is that?”

“In this case it was you and Loras apparently failed.”

“He was looking in the entirely wrong trophy case.” Rhaenys smiled and Willas laughed again.

“I am sorry, they treated you like you were…”

“Stupid and blind?”

“Yes, inappropriately. They should not have treated you inappropriately.” Willas breathed deep to disperse his anger at the way they treated Rhaenys.

“Well, it does not matter now.” Rhaenys wanted to speak as freely as she once had with Willas but the last meeting had made her wary. She could not live in a dream where the witty man was her close friend or more a possible groom.

“Ruddy hell, do you need those two or even one?” Darkstar asked as he returned. “Choose a brother and I’ll remove the other one.  It’d be worth The Watch to stick Aegon with the pointy end.”

“You would be beheaded.” Rhaenys reminded him.

Darkstar stopped to think a moment. “Yep, still worth it.  We need to keep those two apart, the blue one is okay but the silver one needs an attitude adjustment.”

“Maybe you should voice you frustration at my brother more privately.” Rhaenys said to quickly shut down the chance Willas would see how dysfunctional House Targaryen was.

“Why? Still treason no matter where I am saying it.”

“I believe the princess was meaning not around me.” The idea stung but politically he understood it.

“In the event you are found complicit? Our heads could share a wall.” Darkstar smiled.

“No.” Rhaenys reacted violently and had to step back for the thought Willas or Darkstar might die was unimaginable.

“Sorry, Rhaenys. I should not joke about the losing of heads.” Darkstar felt wretched for upsetting his sister so.

“No, you shouldn’t.” She reprimanded him as a elder sister would, him losing his head would wound her forever, she had grown close to the knight. She wasn’t sure Willas losing his would not mark her heart forever.  When did a nice person to converse with turn into infatuation?

“Perhaps the Princess should name the subject then.” Willas wanted to know Rhaenys was alright, after their last encounter he felt he had wronged her and that was his last wish. He liked, for he was staying away from the love word, to see Rhaenys happy and relaxed.

“I have nothing to speak of that will not get us back to the previous subject.” Rhaenys looked down, all she had was her uncle and his potential grooms in her life.  And a new brother which she was sure they were keeping hush-hush for now.

“May I ask then about the blue haired boy Crown Prince Aegon was … staunching with.”

“Is staunching a word?” Darkstar asked to derail Willas’ subject.

“You said war of the Aegons, is there not only one Aegon?” Willas was not a simple man, he saw the sidestep Darkstar was attempting.

“Across the world there are more than one.” Darkstar answered.

“We are not talking about the world, we are talking of two lads only metres away.” Willas would not be sidetracked.

“It is something we cannot yet comment on.” Rhaenys said to stop the questions.

“Well, won’t my brain be whizzing tonight.” Willas nodded.

“Neither can you.” Rhaenys said sternly.

“Excuse me?”

“You cannot comment on it either, or even I couldn’t save your head from my grandfather’s executioner’s axe.” Willas looked surprised but saw Rhaenys’ eyes stared hard at him.

“I will not let my tongue speak what my mind is thinking about.” Willas placed his hand over his heart as he vowed to keep the secret he did not entirely understand.

“Good.” Rhaenys eyes soften with his vow.

Darkstar bounced uncomfortably once on the balls of his feet. “We were escaping Rhaenys.”

“Oh, yes.” She looked behind them with urgency.

“Where were you head Lord Tyrell?” Darkstar thought it would be out of the Keep which would work for their escaping of Oberyn and his grooms.

“I have not yet done my devotions, I was headed to the Great Sept.”

“Excellent we will go with you.” Darkstar clapped his hands. “Rhaenys hasn’t done hers either so lets us all go together.” Darkstar took Rhaenys’ arm and looked expectantly at Willas. “You set the pace my lord.”

Willas opened his mouth to speak but simply closed it again, when he found he had nothing to say to the knight. He had no issue escorting Rhaenys through the city. “Okay.” He said with slight apprehension.

“Great.” Darkstar spoke with enthusiasm.

“Wonderful.” Rhaenys kept the excitement out of her voice.  She felt it though to have an excursion with Willas was all she could have asked for  this or any day.  It was also safe for Willas as Darkstar was their chaperone, not that they required him to be but none could complain.

Willas placed his cane to the floor and set off at a rate he thought would suit the others. He heard Darkstar whisper to Rhaenys. “Does he always take this cracking pace?” Rhaenys shook her head.

“Hey, Tyrell. Could we not get there before yesterday? Rhaenys rarely gets to walk her city, slow down so she can soak it in.”

Willas looked back at the princess. “Of course. Maybe Rhaenys should set the pace.”

“Yeah, because you do know it wasn’t a race. We should get there and only need get back here at dusk.” Darkstar said the last part to Rhaenys.

“Why?”

“Grandpa would not allow Oberyn’s grooms to visit you at night.”

“That is brilliant Gerold.” Rhaenys smiled at the knight and Willas felt a pang of jealousy when she kissed the man on the cheek.

With a flourishing bow, Gerold released Rhaenys. “What are adopted brothers for?”

“Currently they are for rescue missions that real brothers do not bother with.”

“It is sad your brother is too interested in bedding your uncle’s betrothed.” Willas said with disappointment.

“What?” Rhaenys exclaimed, wondering how Willas knew that. She looked at Darkstar, his eyes bright with mischief and mirth and his teeth holding his lips shut to stop him laughing.

“I am sorry Rhaenys, did you not know?” Willas hated if he had upset the woman again.

“Why did you say Aegon was bedding Arianne?”

“I saw them in the market one day and let me just say, no aunt and nephew – even if cousins - should be that intimate with each other. The way he placed his hands to move her aside at one point… well let’s just say he has probably done that in the bed chamber.”

“I must have words to them.” Rhaenys growled. “She should honour her betrothal to Viserys.” Rhaenys was livid for Viserys, it was bad enough Arianne and Aegon were unable to keep their relations a secret within the Keep, now Willas just sees them in the street and can tell what they were up to.

“Viserys doesn’t seem bothered.” Darkstar whispered in her ear, she just turned to glare at him.

“Not everyone is as observant as myself.” Willas tried to placate her.

“They should not…” She took a breath to calm herself, “They should not betray Viserys at all.”

“You are quite close with your uncle.” Willas guessed from her reactions and Viserys’ on the night he was summoned to answer Aerys insanity.  He still felt terrible he had hurt Rhaenys’ feelings so badly that day.

“We were each other’s only friends and playmates until Aegon was born.  Yes, we are close.”

“I wish to apologise for upsetting you before the Great Sept.” Willas watched as she took a quick breath in and hurt crossed her eyes at the memory.

“Watch yourself Tyrell.” Darkstar warned him to not hurt his sister again.

“Gerold, Willas is apologising, do not get defensive.” Rhaenys ordered her protective brother. “I will not say it was nothing Lord Tyrell, but I understand it was not purposefully done. I will forgive you.” Willas frowned, as he realised she meant she hadn’t forgiven him yet.

“I look forward to the day, I am forgiven and we can be friends again.”

“Oh, you can’t be friends again.” Darkstar said, which had both Willas and Rhaenys turn their attention on him. “I’m sorry but Aerys is now super conscious of who Rhaenys speaks to and why she speaks to them. If he gets the wrong impression of things, it could be troublesome for you Lord Tyrell.”

“How?” Willas did not like the idea he would need give up seeing the princess, he had just realised he had gotten overly invested in this relationship. Mainly because he would want it to be a relationship. Rhaenys would make Highgarden an even more delightful castle than it already was.

“Either he will decide to kill you for being too close to his granddaughter or he will decide you are perfect to join the company.  Either way you will be having to endure a huge change possibly.”

“Pop-pa would not…”

“I protect your mother at breakfast with him.  Believe me Rhaenys, he is looking closely at every man determining if they are worthy to share a room with you let alone a bed. Every man.  Even I had to answer the hard questions.”

“I am sure I will be fine.” Willas was sure he could withstand the questions of the king because he only wanted Rhaenys happiness.

“Is this outing too dangerous for Willas?” Rhaenys asked her adopted brother, concern was in her voice.

“What are your intentions, Lord Tyrell?” Darkstar turned to Willas.

“Only the best and respectful of intentions.” He answered without a pause.

“Are you befriending Rhaenys to get some revenge on Oberyn Martell?”

“Rhaenys is a Targaryen, not a Martell, so no.” Willas answered easily again.

“Could you see yourself facing off with Oberyn Martell for Rhaenys if necessary.”

“Why would it be?”

“I am asking the questions here!” Darkstar stamped his foot imitating Aerys and Rhaenys and Willas smiled.

“I will gladly face Oberyn Martell for Rhaenys’ wellbeing, should Sir Gerold Dayne fall.”

“Oh, that is good.” Darkstar smiled. “I won’t fall though.” He just had to state that.

“Then if you are absent, I will defend the princess from her uncle’s bad intentions.”

“You may just pass Aerys’ tests.” Darkstar patted him on the back. “He’s a keeper Rhaenys.”

“Thank you for working that out, Darkstar.” She said with sarcasm.

“You are welcome adopted sister dear.” Darkstar stepped forward to take her arm again. “And you are lucky Lord Tyrell, do you feel it?”

“Indeed, I do.” He wasn’t lying he had a morning with the princess he adored and one day she would forgive him for hurting her feelings.

Day two, and Viserys was again commandeered to host his mother’s guests as his parents conferred. Halfway through the day he disappeared for a few moments to return with a notepad and quill.  He handed them to Missandei and had her explain this was for her Mistress to write or draw on to communicate, so Missandei could have some free time.

At first the lady was against the idea but she saw how much Missandei needed her own time or time to spend with Daenerys, a girl closer to her age.  Also, she felt calm with this prince.  He took her to the Library and sat down to write as she sat watching him.

“Feel free to peruse the shelves, I don’t know if you can read Westerosi…” He noted she nodded, he was glad, it must be terribly boring being stuck in the Queen’s Chambers, because Viserys had noticed she did not leave them. “Then take any book you like to read in your… non-me time.” He wasn’t sure how to say what he meant.

Again she nodded her understanding. She was far more intelligent than she appeared, but then she wasn’t really seen was she.  She did like that Prince Viserys did not assume as a woman she must be of a lower intellect. She had hoped the Queen would need another private session with the king and had hoped for time with the prince. She wasn’t sure why but he helped her feel calm.

She drew a picture on the paper and handed it to him. “History?” He asked to make sure he had deciphered her picture right. It did not occur to him at that point she must have understood his word to nod her answer. He simply led her to the history section. She looked through the books as Viserys went back to his writing.

He had lost track of time and realised he should procure food for them.  “I will be right back.” She seemed deep in the book she was reading, looked to be Targaryen history. She looked up to see him disappear out the door.

He returned with sandwiches with meat and cheese on them and a bottle of wine with two glasses. “Sorry, I starved you.” She only nodded when he put the food before her. She turned away to facilitate the act of eating and Viserys turned to make it less of an effort for her.  He finished his share before her as she had veils to navigate.

“I hope you liked them, I do not know if you have meat or food prohibitions. I also know people do not all like simple sandwiches.  My betrothed wants catered food every meal, too used to being a princess.  I am a prince and I never got why servants are supposed to serve every meal. Don’t tell anyone that, I am supposed to have an arrogant demeanour.”

All she did was continue to eat while she gazed at him. She had nothing to say, her sisters never raised a hand in their own care and she only had as the last and most despised child. Still, she had not done much herself, though she was not against it, it was just not how it was done.

“If you recall my betrothed from that first dinner, she was the one hanging off my nephew Aegon.” She just silently chewed as he spoke. “They are bedding each other, but they don’t think I know.”

Under her veils, she was appalled to hear the betrayal the prince was living with. She would ask him why he was not denouncing the fickle woman, but she was not supposed to understand the language so she couldn’t react too much.

“I do hope they are over it by our wedding, else I do not know what to do.” Viserys shook his head at his book. “How would I even be sure my children are mine?” He said to the air.

Aerys had again brought Viserys to steal her guest so they could talk. She had no more idea today than she did the day before. There was not a lot of choice in the Seven Kingdom for a woman to marry a prince to be king, when no one knew he was to be king.

“Aerys, we must look to Houses other than the Houses paramount.”

“No. Viserys needs a wife of standing, she will be queen.”

“You tie our hands with this subterfuge. No girl wants to wed the uncle of the next king.”

“He will be king. They will be queen.”

“But we can’t tell them that or it could get back to House Martell. How do we sell our son to prospective wives?”

“He is a handsome man.”

“He is also your son. Famously hard to tolerate.” Rhaella saw this as a great stumbling block. Viserys was known to applaud his father in his cruelty. A cruel man was hard to marry off.

“Who is available to pursue?”

“Well, there is Sansa Stark. A few weeks younger than the Heirs to Winterfell, Robb and Nicholas. We have already spoken how Margery Tyrell is bound to be Robb Stark and the other Houses have no daughters. We must go to the realms banner houses, there are a couple of Royce girls in The Vale.  A number of Hightower girls.”

“Are they the correct age?”

“No they are all mid-teens or younger, girls of the age are already married with children. We left it too late.”

“There must be someone out there.”

“I think there is a Yronwood girl.” Rhaella mused.

“No.” Aerys said firmly. “No Dornish girls.”

“This is an impossible task brother.  Why would anyone allow their daughters to marry your son, and we have to screen them to be queen. How do we do that?”

“We invite them all to audition to be Aegon’s queen and then just slip Viserys in.”

“That might get them here but then you have to have Aegon agree to not marry Daenerys. How do you do that?”

“Send Daenerys off on her adventure quickly. She will return married to Jon.”

“You can’t guarantee that.” As much as it was Rhaella’s dearest wish for her daughter to marry for love, she was practical.

“Then we go on a progress and go to The Wall with her.  Along the way we assess girls for Viserys.”

“Aerys you are mad.”

“I know.” He smiled, sometimes his madness worked for him.

They had nothing to really discuss, but Aerys kept bringing Viserys to host Missandei and her mistress, a few days in Viserys asked if they should come up with a name for the woman and was told they had settled on Asha. Viserys wasn’t sure but if that is what the ladies came up with he was happy to use the name.  Every day he handed her the paper and quill and allowed Missandei to go spend time with Daenerys.

It became so routine for Viserys he would show up early to host Asha even before Aerys sought him to.  He liked being able to expunge his thoughts without consequences of politics. Asha kept his secrets and listened to his laments about Arianne and her infidelity.

Asha listened and under her veils frowned for the fate this prince was resigned to. Every day he spoke of the infidelity of the previous day he had discovered. Asha wanted to shake the girl who so obviously did not deserve to be betrothed to the prince.

Arianne had a conundrum, with two Aegon’s which did she cosy up to? She had no idea that she really only had the choice she already had taken.  She found out when Visenya Blackfyre put a knife to her throat after attempting an interlude with Aegon, the Blue, as they called him.

“I am Princess Arianne of Dorne, do not put a weapon to me else you will suffer.”

“Yeah, we ain’t in Dorne and I will just explain you are a whore.” Visenya countered the threat. “Does The Mad King know you are betraying his son? I am fine to tell him, see what being a princess of Dorne helps you with.”

“Cousin.” Egg was going to dispel this tension if he could. “I am not one to lay or consort with those whom I share blood with, you are my blood cousin and soon to be my aunt through marriage if we don’t tell grandfather about this. Let us leave it at crossed words.”

“I was only being welcoming.”

“Is that what they call it in Westeros?” Visenya snarked. “In Essos, you are a whore.”

“Could we stop with the whore reference Vy?” Egg asked for peace.

“If she stops being one, I’ll stop calling her one.” Visenya did not want to play nice with this one, she did not trust Dorne. So, she grabbed Egg’s arm and dragged him off.

Jon was getting to know Geron better as many hours were taken up by Missandei and Daenerys getting to know each other and forming an unbreakable friendship. He wasn’t jealous of the time Missandei spent with Daenerys, he just wished he could get his life of no chains going.

Jon also wanted to get to the north and see the man who thought he was his grandfather so Daenerys would be safe from any reprisals.  He spent much time questioning Geron and Evelyn about this king over the Frostfangs.  Geron and Evelyn spoke of a good man and a fair man but a very hurt and angry man.

Jon worried for Daenerys but was reassured King Aerion would not blame Daenerys for Aerys or Jaehaerys sins. Jon again spoke of his disbelief he was the missing grandson this man searched for.

“You are he.  You are the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, and that is confirmed by Arthur Dayne.  Whether Rhaegar was Aerion’s son, well he believes it and it makes no difference to who you are to Aerion.” Evelyn had a cadence to her voice that made you believe you were learning ancient wisdom at her knee.

“But Rhaegar was not his son.”

Evelyn shrugged. “He believes he was.  He searches for Rhaegar’s son, and as you are the son of Rhaegar, you are the one he is looking for.”

“Rhaegar has other sons why me?”

“You bear the mark.” She touched his shoulder. “Aerion searches for the son of Rhaegar that bears the mark.”

Jon looked at his shoulder. “ What is so important about this birthmark?”

“King Aerion and every Targaryen King of Winter since Torrhen has been born with it.  You see how Aerion will accept you as his grandson, the Mark reveals the king.”

“Is it really that simple?”

“It really is.” Geron nodded.

Aerys then asked a question that made his wife speechless. “What about the Blackfyre girl?” She was closer to Viserys’ age and was at least Blood of the Dragon, being a Blackfyre, or whatever her grandfather’s name was.  It would be like a Blackfyre to pass the name on to annoy House Targaryen.  Baela Blackfyre. If she was alive, he would thank her for producing a granddaughter that could serve Aerys’ purposes.

He had asked Rickard but his companion kept his mouth shut, was that good or bad? Aerys was feeling more unhinged every day, Rickard was less vocal and his daughter’s days for her venture were shortening.  He had no solution to any of his problems. Viserys should be more helpful to his father since he was naming him his heir. Rickard just raised an eyebrow at that idea.

Viserys had quietened since his mother’s return, or maybe it was because he was busy entertaining the foreign woman called Lump.  Apparently Daenerys and her new friend the little foreign interpreter had named her Asha, and Viserys had told him father he was not to refer to her as Lump anymore, so he could only do it in his head.

“You were against a Blackfyre queen.” Rhaella reminded him.

“As Jon’s queen.  I am being a good father to Daenerys, by keeping him free of other girls.”

“That is not the impression anyone got.” Aerys wanted to counter her argument and say Rickard got it, but she would probably hate him for bringing up the name. “You tried to take him off her on the first morning.”

“So, no one questioned if he had a choice, being in her debt.  Whereas if he was my servant and he married Daenerys there would be no conflict of interest.” He smiled at his brilliant thinking.

“Do I need tell you that your mad?” Rhaella sighed these meeting had no progress because she knew Visenya Blackfyre would be take off the table son enough by Aerys himself, because of her name.

“Madly brilliant.”

“What does Elia get out of this agreement?” Rhaella realised she had never asked what Elia got out of the deal.

“Her firstborn son will be Hand of the King for Viserys.”

“What do you mean firstborn son? Are you saying the two Aegons are twins? Are we arguing about birth order?”

Shit! He had let a cat tail out of the bag. How did he explain to his sister what he meant without revealing it all. He should trust her but then he recalled Elia’s response. Darkstar did not need another person looking at him sideways and rejecting him.

Rhaella would not reject Darkstar. Rickard told him. But she would reveal him to others inadvertently, you cannot tell her yet.

“No, I just meant Rhaegar’s firstborn son.”

“So, this blue haired boy will be Viserys Hand? That is a huge jump for him and a bit insulting. Was to be King now just The Hand of the King.”

“It has been decided and Aegon will be Hand of the King, so long as Arianne is not queen, I have done Elia’s wish.”

“Why would she not want her niece to be queen.” Rhaella wondered what was going on.

“Did you know Aegon the Crowned Prince, is bedding Arianne Martell?”

“What?!” Rhaella could not believe it, was it one of Aerys delusions.

“Pretty much the whole time she has been here, don’t worry she was the corrupter not Aegon.”

“What about Viserys?”

“He isn’t bedding her yet, he is an honourable prince.”

“I mean what about Viserys? He doesn’t know does he?”

“I assume he does as one of Varys’ little bird said he mistakenly walked in on them one day.”

“Was he devastated?” Rhaella’s heart went out to her son, discovering such a thing.

“I don’t know the little bird didn’t say.” Aerys shrugged.

“Did you check?”

“Yes, I asked Varys if any of his other birds could say what Viserys’ reaction was. None knew.”

“I meant did you ask Viserys.”

“Why would I, he isn’t a secret spy.”

Rhaella stood and spun away from the table. “My poor son.”

“What’s happened to him?” Aerys did not understand her lamenting.

What happened to Viserys was not as important as what was happening to the man.  He was in the Library with Asha having seen Missandei off answering a call of nature.  He was reading as Asha sat and as usual when not reading herself, gazing at this enigmatic man, whose reputation did not equal the man she saw.

The fire was warm, exceptionally to the covered woman. When the hearth spit out an ember which took to flame as it landed in the plush carpet of the room.  Asha waved to get the prince’s attention, but his head was deep in his book. What could she do, she needed to get his attention.  So, she took a dangerous chance.

“Fire.” She said in desperation and in Westerosi. Viserys head snapped up to her exclamation. Firstly, the prince grabbed his ice tea and threw it over the small fire putting it out and then when the danger was passed he turned his attention to the woman who warned him.

Viserys sat back into his chair with a stunned look on his features, Had she just spoken Westerosi?  He paled at the thought of what that meant, everything he had told her thinking she did not know his language. He then realised she had answered his questions with gestures, of course she understood Westerosi.

“You speak Westerosi.” He whispered. He was also stunned by the quality of her voice having heard it for the first time.  It was soft and smooth and seemed to rub on your skin like silk. He wanted to hear it again in case it was just from restricted use.

Asha stood up and moved to the closest shelves of books. She set her back to the shelf as protection, but really if he was going to punish her for her knowledge, he could easily move her. She raised her arms to protect her face from the beating she thought was coming.

Viserys stood and took a step towards the woman, he saw her arms raise below all her layers of cloth. He still looked bewildered by her ability to speak his language.   He stepped closer. “How long?” Had she only started to master it or was she fluent? “Have you always spoken Westerosi?”  He realised as she raised her arms higher, she thought he was going to strike her, so he stepped back. “Does anyone other than your little interpreter know?”  She shook her head.

“Please.” She pleaded in that hypnotic tone.

Viserys shook his head and sat down.  Then he looked worried, he had been spilling his secrets to this woman thinking she did not understand, now he realised he had spoken far too freely of his life. “I won’t tell anyone you speak our language if you don’t tell anyone what I have said to you in private.”

She stepped forward and seemed to nod. She hoped she could trust this prince.  She was relieved he had not struck her down for her deceit and for being more intelligent than he expected.  The queen had lamented to her, the worries she had for her son, but she had seen none of the man the queen spoke of when they were alone.  He was much different when he was not trying to convince someone of something.

“Do you have a name?” He almost kicked himself for such a stupid question of course she did.

“It is unpronounceable in your language.” Missandei said as she entered, she had heard this question so many times “And it does not translate well.  Anyway she lost it when she ran away and therefore cannot speak it or wear it anymore, for the shame she carries.”

Viserys turned to look sympathetically at the woman. “We can’t keep not calling you something. You need a name for here.”

“Her name was lost. And the disgrace of the one she was given to replace it upon her fleeing is … It is meant to ensure she will never have the honour she ran from. That is why Daenerys and I named her Asha.”

“Meaning?”

“They called her,” Missandei exhaled. “Closest translation is something like Bolting Jackal. Except, that is a kind version, she is considered lower than your … prostitutes, because she ran away from a marriage she did not like and would not endure.”

“Her husband?”

“They had not yet wed, but he was already cruel; and her culture says she has no worth until she is married.  Even as highly stationed as her father was, she was of no worth to her brothers to find her a kind husband.  He who offered the best price got her. The man who did, has maimed many of his wives permanently.” Viserys was shocked.

“We have a deal, Lady Asha.” Viserys nodded to confirm their pact and Asha's did the same. Missandei wondered what the deal was, but she could not ask here, before the prince.

He escorted the ladies back to his mother’s chambers. His father was gone as usual, forgetting to inform Viserys his host duty was done.  Asha and Missandei travelled to more inner rooms as Viserys lingered to speak to his mother.

“Maybe it is time your guest had more permanent lodgings.”

“I will not just turn them out onto the streets.”

“I meant personal lodgings in the Keep, we have a number of empty apartments. We can give them more privacy.” He figured the pretence of no one hearing Asha’s velvet voice was confining for the two women, she needed more freedom.  A different experience to what her old life had done to her.

“I will discuss it with her and your father, he will need to think he decided it.”

“Sure. Goodnight, Mother.” He kissed her head and headed off to his evening.

”Goodnight, Viserys.” Rhaella called to his retreating form.  She smiled, Aerys was right her son had chosen to change his path and he seemed set on a good one.

“I will see you tomorrow.” He would be required to host Lady Asha again, for her to meekly follow him silently. Maybe now he knew she spoke Westerosi he could free Missandei more and they could truly converse. He would like a different adult conversation for a change. Prince Viserys whistled as he walked and planned for the morrow.

Chapter Text

Daenerys realised how much time she was spending with Missandei and not with Jon when she found him missing from her apartments and was told by Sir Barristan that Jon had been given rooms of his own three days ago.  Barristan offered to take her to them.

Three days! How could she have not noticed she hadn’t seen Jon in three days? Had she been so invested with Missandei that she forgot about Jon.

She opened her door to Aegon standing about to knock. “Daenerys.”

“I am busy Aegon.” She needed to see Jon.

“We need to discuss our betrothal and wedding. I am here to take you to Mother’s rooms.”

“I am not going to Elia’s rooms to discuss anything. With this other Aegon, I doubt Father will continue with the betrothal.”

“It is set, and we will wed.” Aegon snapped. “This imposter will soon be revealed for what he is.”

“What if he is not the imposter?” Daenerys saw rage in Aegon’s eyes, she flinched remembering his temper. He breathed through his anger, taking it out on Daenerys did not help, and would in fact harm the plans for them to wed. 

“I am the real Aegon, I have grown up right next to you, no one can explain that away as my claim being correct.”

“He looks more like Rhaenys and Elia.” Daenerys shrugged.

“I look like my father.”

“Do you? I never met Rhaegar and your mother seems sure he is the real Aegon.”

Aegon was so livid he turned away not to slap Daenerys for her words. “Fine, be betrothed to him, I am not without my admirers.” He did not mean those words of dismissal and she knew it as well as him. He however left her to whatever she had been about to do.

Daenerys called Barristan to accompany her to Jon, guide her in truth. Jon opened his door before she could knock, and he looked surprised to see her.  He was not expecting to see the princess at his door.

“Your Highness.” He bowed his head.

“No need to be so formal, we were on a first name basis.”

“Well yes, before I moved a few days ago.  I thought you lost interest in my existence.” He could sound put off but he did not, he simply accepted her diversion from him. “I was about to go seek Geron and start arranging me leaving to see this king who thinks he is my grandfather.”

“Should you not seek me to line up our departure?”

“Honestly, I thought to let you beg off from the journey.  You have more important things to do than accompany me to some drafty castle and a cranky old man.”

“I in fact do not have anything better to do than be with you.” She blushed a little as she realised what she had said.

“We should look at leaving if we plan to get wherever in the allotted time.” He wished she would stay out of danger and remain safely in Kings Landing.

“The Winter king is expecting me to present you, I cannot stay here. What if he seeks vengeance for me not going?” She made a good point, and he knew it. He did not want her endangered for him.

“Well, we need to get going soon, winter is coming and that will mean snow and ice making our journey more difficult.” He had been talking to Lord Stark about it and he had suggested haste as the Frostfangs were said to be treacherous even in summer.

“Have you embraced your Stark family so quickly, now you say their words?” She smiled as he laughed.

“Coincidence is all.”

“Let us go talk to Geron about plans.  You are right it may need more time than we imagine.” She held out her hand for him to take, it only took him a moment to wrap his around hers.

“We will sail to White Harbour then ride to Winterfell. Once there we will make arrangement to go to The Wall and beyond.” Lord Stark took charge of the plan. “It will not be an easy journey.” He gazed at the princess. “Are you sure you want to do this, we can take Jon to King Aerion.”

“I said I would, and my word is no weaker than yours, my lord.  I will go to the ends of the earth to see Jon truly free, and that is what this king offers, true freedom for Jon.” She stood taller.

“Alright. I will assure your parents we will keep you as safe as we can.” Daenerys nodded once to say she agreed and understood.

“We will accompany you and our daughter to Winterfell, perhaps even The Wall itself. I will decide where we will turn when we get there.”

Lord Eddard was notably shocked by the king’s stance. No Targaryen had travelled through the realm in over a decade. Aerys had kept all his family locked in the Red Keep since the war, Rhaegar’s death.

“Not the entire House.” Eddard could not keep them all safe.

“Elia and her children will stay, as will my Lord Commander.”

“Your grace?” Lord Hightower did not like the sounds of Aerys plan.

“You will be my Hand to rule the realm in my absence, you are the only man I truly trust.” He gave Rickard an apologetic face, there was the only man he trusted implicitly.

“Your grace, surely a Targaryen would be best to cover your loss to the capital.” Lord Hightower knew there would be many knives following the king.

“We haven’t even decided which Aegon is Aegon. I can’t trust them.”

“Are you leaving Darkstar here to protect your granddaughter?” Gerold was at a loss to understand his king’s insane decision.

“No, He will wish to go with Jon, and I feel safer knowing he cannot get into mischief if he is with me.” Gerold Hightower just nodded, he could not make the king see sense, no one could. “Lord Eddard please give me a week to organise my household for this journey.”

“Of course, a week will not cost us the mission.” Ned bowed his head to the insane man, who must have some death wish heading out into the realm.

After Ned had left the room, Aerys called Gerold to come close and listen. “I need you to keep the Aegons under control, because…” Aerys sat back to speak to all the birds listening. “I am dissolving Daenerys’ betrothal to Aegon, not forever just until I know which one is which. Then she will marry the Aegon who I find is the son of Rhaegar.” He smiled at Gerold, they both knew the truth was neither was Rhaegar’s son and the Aegon who was, would never wed Daenerys, leaving only Jon as her possible groom.

“As you wish, your grace.”

Aegon hit the roof when he was told and Daenerys just sat silently. She felt cursed still as she did not wish to marry either Aegon. Egg had gotten his chance to tell Aerys incest was against his religion, to be reminded Valyrians had done it for thousands of years, so the Valyrian religion condoned it.

Egg however did not think Aerys was intent on making him marry Daenerys, and he wasn’t sure why he believed that of his grandfather, but he did not see his madness as bad as everyone said.  He noticed Aerys was very lucid when speaking to Jon.  He also noticed his insanity peaked when most of his lords were involved.

Aerys was also very insightful when he wanted to be.  It seemed Visenya brought out the Mad King’s curious side.  He questioned her for hours and then days and every day he asked similar questions to determine if she had lied at any point.  Aerys was very interested in her family lineage.

Aerys was very interested in Visenya Blackfyre’s lineage because his investigators had found a connection between her father and Egg’s.  They were estranged brothers, sons of Baela Blackfyre and yes, the woman had kept the father of her children secret, so they could only be called Blackfyre. Aegon, the elder and Daemon the younger and a younger sister who took her own life when Visenya was little.

He had also found out Visenya was Aegon and his younger sister’s child and the woman had birthed a stillborn son about seventeen or so years ago. Aerys wondered if she had or if the boy was stolen.  He set his investigators to ensure the Blackfyre boy was dead and not being raised as Crown Prince Aegon under his roof.

Aerys’ investigators brought him another piece of information.

“Are you sure?” He had gone to the Kingswood with his Lord Commander for this meeting because Max Channing, the investigator said it could not be within the city.

“As sure as I am of any intrigue I bring you.”

“It explains some things.” Gerold Hightower nodded along with the investigators words.

“Varys? My secret keeper.”

“Has kept his own secret.” Max said. “It is why I couldn’t chance him hearing we knew.”

“Another son of the Blackfyre female line.” Aerys cursed. Rickard did not look surprised.

A eunuch who cannot carry on the line, helps his cousins’ sons to reign.

“He is in league with House Martell!” That angered Aerys more than his identity.

“I cannot speak of his alliances or motives only what I discovered.” Max looked away, never look a madman in the eye when disagreeing with him.

Or he played to their need. Rickard suggested. They needed a baby to replace Aegon and he had a cousin’s son to sell. The Martell’s may just be his patsies. He may have no idea they put a Blackfyre in Elia’s bed.  They may have no idea he was a Blackfyre.

Aerys chuckled at the idea that Varys and his Blackfyre family had tricked the Martell brothers who thought themselves so intelligent. Then he stopped laughing looking annoyed. “Oh, this Aegon problem just gets worse as time moves on.”

“Lucky you have that deal with Elia.” Lord Commander Hightower assured his king it would be sorted out eventually.

“Thank you, Channing, keep looking for me.” The man bowed and left the king with his kingsguard. “Let me sound this out. Varys is the son of a female Blackfyre, he has cousins, Aegon and Daemon. Aegon Blackfyre is the father of Visenya and possible father of our imposter Aegon. Then Daemon Blackfyre who is estranged from his family, is the father of Aegon, the blue one, Egg or whatever. Varys supplied the Blackfyre baby to the Martells and could have supplied Daemon for their other trick on their sister.”

“That could be it your grace.”

“This is insane, even for me. Gerold Dayne will have to be Viserys’ Hand because all other avenues lead to Blackfyres taking the Iron Throne. Hopefully Jon will come up with some intelligent way to save Daenerys. I have to keep these Blackfyres away from my throne.”

“I am still to wed Aegon, an Aegon.”

“Sorry, we have no way of changing that.” Jon said rubbing Daenerys’ arm to comfort her.

“Is there no way to stop it?” Missandei was sure with some contemplation they could find a solution. Daenerys slowly shook her head.

 “There is only one solution as far as I can see.” Darkstar decided to meddle with abandon.

“Oh, and what is that?” Jon asked.

“We take the two of you to the God’s Eye with this young priestess and get you married .” Viserys jumped on Darkstar’s solution. Every eye turned to the prince. “I am not blind. I see how the two of you gaze at one another. It would be injustice to separate the two of you.”

“Not entirely where I was going.” It was brilliant though. It was where he thought it might end.

“Stops you being stolen and forced to wed any Aegon and surely this northern king cannot take his anger at our line out on his grandson’s wife.” Viserys explained his reasons.

“I may not be his …”

“He believes you are, so in his mind Daenerys would be his family too. This saves my sister from a terrible marriage and usual incest. She escaped marrying me, now she needs escape marrying Aegon, either or all.”

“A flaw Viserys.” Darkstar interrupted. “Aerys thinks Jon was named Aegon by his mother.”

“Obviously not. This family has too many Aegons over its generations especially this one. Even if she did, his name has always been Jon, so it isn’t Aegon anyway.”

“I am beginning to like you, Viserys.” Jon admitted.

“Don’t get used to it, I was raised by a madman.” Viserys said as he walked out the door, his Father’s usual meeting with his mother would start soon and he wanted to save Asha before Aerys insulted her, from what little he knew she had experienced enough uncaring males in her life.

“I was not expecting Viserys to be helpful.” Daenerys was surprised by her brother’s stance and care for her wishes.

Viserys popped his head back in the door. “Make use of this crazy plan for so many of us to go to Winterfell.  We take their ship,” he pointed at Evelyn and Geron, “and take the side trip.”

“We don’t need a separate ship.” Daenerys was sure her mother would approve the plan and her father was crazy enough she just had to pick the day.

“Oh, you hadn’t heard. Aegon, the dispossessed is now travelling with us to stop plans like these.” Viserys informed his sister.

“How?” How did he know?

“Arianne was whining about it.” Viserys shrugged. “I’ll let you guess why.” This time he disappeared to not return. Daenerys looked around lost to what her brother had just said and suggested and why he left like that.

Missandei guessed the prince’s reason. “He must host my Mistress Asha while your parents conference.” She knew her mistress looked forward to their daily outings, she wondered if the prince did too.  Still, she cautioned her mistress not to get too invested in a prince already betrothed, even if the princess did not deserve him.

Asha however was getting invested in this prince, and some of her incautiousness was due to the name Viserys called her on their daily outing, he knew they chose Asha for her name, but he called her Velvet, for her voice texture. Asha was not ready to suggest he dispose of his betrothed but it was more on her mind every day. She did not believe it was because of her growing regard for the prince, but for his own good, he should not endure his wife’s infidelity.

He no longer rattled on with his own topic, they tended to have in depth conversations about topics of a wide variety. She asked about his betrothed to be interested in his life and each time she asked his answer made her wish to throttle the princess from Dorne. Asha could not understand how he was bound to this woman.

“Have you considered removing some of the bulk of your veils, as it must be stifling under them. Obviously keep your headdress but maybe only one layer or two in our heat.” Viserys wasn’t sure how she did not die of heat exhaustion under all those heavy clothes.

“It is tradition.” Yes, she wished she could. Even in her home’s heat the women suffered for all their traditional veils.

“I did not think you would return to your homeland.”

“I cannot return home ever.  I am in Westeros because it is beyond my possible husband’s reach.”

“Then you could have your veils changed to lighter material  or wear less layers, so you don’t die in Westeros.” Viserys was quite concerned for her wellbeing. He was not looking too intensely into why her welfare was important to him. He thought it was what one would care for a friend and as he had never had a friend before he guessed that is the level one cared about them.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Viserys had not done anything for her.

“My apartments are finished and I can move in tomorrow and also for being mindful of my comfort in your climate.”

“Do you need help to move?” Not that he had ever done manual labour but he did not wish to miss her the following day because she was busy moving.

“No.” She smiled at his kind offer. “I have nothing to really move, everything from my yacht has been moved in so it is just me and Missandei.”

“Oh, so will you require a host while my parents confer?” He sounded disappointed for the ‘no’ he knew was coming.

“I had not thought about it. I suppose I will not.” She sounded as disappointed as he was. “I would still like to come out for an activity and a conversation. If you are not busy, you are my only friend here.”

“You would have more if you enlightened them to your fluency in Westerosi.” He knew many would love to converse with an intellectual woman. He did. It was not that Arianne was not intellectual, she was very intelligent, but Viserys was not the Targaryen she spent her time with. He was sure his reputation had put her off, but bedding Aegon was a peculiar remedy.

“As you gave me advice, may I advise you?”

Viserys nodded, anything to hear her hypnotic tones. “Of course.”

“Speak to your father about the infidelity of your betrothed, he will annul your betrothal and you can find a wife with better fidelity.”      

"I am sure he already knows.  He is more clued in than people think.  Also, there is no one else, or such a few to select from.  No one wishes to be my princess.”

She was glad of her many cloths because he could not see her expression of disbelief or ask her why she disbelieved.  She did not wish to admit her momentary infatuation with him. “I am sure if they knew you, the real you, they would be lining up.”

“Oh, this is not the real me.” He saw her head cock to the side and guessed she was refuting him. “This is my host face.”

“What is your real face then?”

“No idea, never had to have one.”

“So, this could be it.” She was sure it was.

“Don’t know. I suppose it could.” He looked thoughtful. “Crap! I’m a nice guy.”

“Is that so bad?” She asked with amusement.

“Bad, no. Unbelievable. I mean I know I was a nice kid but as I grew I really thought I was the bad prince, now I find I am still that good kid. Disappointing to see I haven’t grown.”

“Maybe, you have grown. Sweet child. Terrible teen and young adult. Good man.”

“Can’t believe I grew up to be good.” He looked truly perplexed and annoyed. “Next I’ll start having friends.” Asha could not help herself she laughed at him. “Now I am amusing too.” He lamented with a dramatic spin.

“Maybe just to me.” Asha tried to comfort him.

“No, no, it is too late, I’m a good guy, nothing can save me now.” He shook his head. Though he did not mind being amusing to Asha, she needed a good laugh and some true joy in her life. “Suppose it is time to get one of those tiny puppies and just be adorable.”

She could not help herself she collapsed in fits of giggling at the sight in her mind’s eye. “I will miss you when you go north.”

“Me or my adorable puppy I am yet to find?”

“You.” The tone said she was not being funny, but his absence would be a true loss to her.

“I was thinking of only going as far as the Isle of Faces.”

“What a macabre sounding place.”

“No, it is an isle that is covered in Weirwoods carved with faces.  They can look ghoulish at times but it is not as macabre as it sounds.”

“Trees carved with faces? Like the ancient Godswoods?” She leant forward in interest.

“Well, they are ancient Godswoods I suppose, as all Godswoods I have heard of or seen have a Weirwood carved with a face.”

“You have seen Godswoods?” She seemed impressed. “Like the ancient ones.  I have always wanted to see a Godswood since I was little and taught about them.”

“Why would you be taught about old pagan holy places?  Go to The North and every castle will have one.” Viserys did not understand why she was so excited about a Godswood.

“There are none in Essos anymore, we are taught they are lost to the world.  The Old Gods are angry we have not kept them. We have lost their trees.”

“Well, they are all over The North, and probably beyond.  There are some in the Mountains of the Moon with the Tribesmen that live there too.”

“Is there one in your city?”

“No.”

“Oh.” He hated how disappointed she sounded.

“I could take you to the stump in our old Godswood, but it was cut down centuries ago.”

“Why would you cut it down?” Now she sounded offended.

“An ancestor was dedicated to The Seven.” He saw her head shake.

“I will see this desecration, even if I can only touch its remnants.”

“Perhaps we should ask Great Uncle Aemon for his input as we are possibly going to The Wall with Daenerys.” Rhaella felt they were getting nowhere with this endeavour, no woman had been discoverable that both agreed on.

“He is stuck on The Wall how would he know?”

“He was always wise.  He disagreed with our marriage. He might consider something we do not.”

Aerys looked to Rickard, he was not surprised he nodded to agree with Rhaella.  They would be betraying him every night if Rickard wasn’t just a figment of Aerys’ mind. He could see them now, writhing around on her bed, making dragon cubs.

“Brother.” Rhaella said sharply.

She should be surprised he had caught them. He would yell how long had this been happening, but he already knew, since they had met.  How honourable was that on Rickard Stark’s part? Bedding his wife for decades.

“Brother!” He had tripped off somewhere and she did not have all day to wait for him.

“What?” He snarled at her.

“Viserys.”

“What about him?”

“We were trying to find him a wife, secretly.” Rhaella sighed in exasperation.

Maybe you should ask Viserys. Rickard gave his advice.

“Should we maybe ask Viserys?” Aerys passed on the advice.

“Brother, I suggested that days ago and you said no.”

“Well, now I am saying maybe.” He did not understand why she was being so obstructive to the planning.

“What about he may act differently towards her and we can’t tempt her being smart enough to guess she is out?”

“Wow, you are really pessimistic.” He shook his head.

“You said that!”

“Yeah, but I am paranoid, what is your excuse?”

“I will kill you soon.”

“Can’t. Viserys isn’t set up to be king yet.” He shrugged and gave her a ‘sorry’ quirk to his face.

As Jon walked Daenerys back to her rooms, he wondered to the outcome to this crazy plan. Would it keep Daenerys safe from King Aerion? Were they even close to the depth of love to marry.  He could be he did have dreams of Daenerys and himself living in a place with frozen gardens, and strangely riding Dragons together, they had a little raven haired cherub and another child on the way.  In his dreams though he was advanced in age, not old just a few years ahead of now.

He was nervous to ask Daenerys her true feelings on the subject, was she just trying to escape a bad betrothal? Was she so determined to not wed Aegon she would resign herself to wed him.  Was he just a cog in the wheel to freedom?

Daenerys was also mulling over the plan Viserys had given. Was her brother mad? She had only had the weeks on the ship from Essos of truly knowing Jon.  She had been so focussed on getting him free, she wasn’t sure if he was agreeing to the marriage as a thank you for helping him be free.

What if she asked him and he said the words she didn’t wish to hear, that he had to marry her to free himself properly.  What if he did not wish to bind himself so early in his life of freedom, but didn’t feel he could refuse? What if Jon didn’t love her?

“About this plan of Viserys about the Isle of Faces.” Jon decided to take the Dragoness by the horns.

“I was not expecting that of my brother.” She admitted the strangeness of it.

“Yes, well.” He took a breath before just stumbling over his words. “It is not necessary, if this man considers me his grandson, even if I am not. Well, I will tell him not to hurt you, so you do not need to do this.”

“You do not need do this to save me from a grief stricken king.  You are free to choose not to continue. Father wants to go by road, it is only Lord Stark that says water will see it done quicker.”

“I do not want you in danger.”

“Neither I for you.”

“Marriage is forever, not just a month.  Are you sure you wish to be bound to me forever?”

Absolutely! “Do you not wish to be?”

“I am not saying that, but it isn’t like we are acquainted enough to say we know we have things in common to bond over.”

“I suppose the question is do we both wish to attempt forever from what our emotions are now.” He took a shaky nervous breath.

“Do you?” She was not brave enough to go first.

“I have so little knowledge of life, I worry I will disappoint you as a protector.”

“You were the Champion of Meereen, I see no trouble with you protecting me.” Why couldn’t she just say yes?

Jon could see he would need to go first for Daenerys. “I am content to do this.”

“Content?” Couldn’t he be more invested.

“Yes. I think it is too early to declare love and people would rebuke us as too young to know, and too cloistered. Content sounds more mature.”

“Well, let us be mature. I am also content to do this.” He nodded and looked up at her door.

“We will be mature and leave it here.” He kissed her hand and her head and gestured her to enter before he would leave.

Neither Jon nor Daenerys got much sleep that night as their minds raced with the plans that had been hatched that day. They were also surprised by Viserys being the instigator of it, what had he suggested it and why so quickly?

Jon worried for the idea of the princess marrying a no one like him, why would she have agreed to such an unequal union? Even if it was known this northern king would accept him as his grandson, he was still a no one until he did.

They met the next morning two very sleepy teens. They apologised simultaneously for their lack of sleep and then both laughed at themselves.  They went to a garden for Jon still loved the light to discuss their concerns, so they continued to be mature about it all.

“I was concerned to how you would endure a no one groom.”

“I was concerned your  heart would change as you became more use to being free.”

“I would be lucky to be free and wed to the most beautiful girl I had ever known. A girl who will always be my girl of honey and roses.” Daenerys blushed.

“It would be horrid to say I do not care if you are nobody to the rest of the world you would always be my black cell boy, as it speaks of your incarceration.”

“It is alright, I am only newly free and so do not know what is right or wrong in society.” He grinned at her, she lightly slapped his arm. “You can be my girl of honey and roses and I will be your black cell boy, who cares what the world thinks.” He took her hand and kissed it.

“How mature we are to already be working through our differences.” Daenerys smiled with pride.

Rhaenys entered the garden of their conversation and made her way quickly to Daenerys’ side seeing her there with the Prisoner boy. “Daenerys.” She said quietly but urgently.

“Rhaenys, I was just…”

“You need to just run out of this garden and as far away as you can.” Rhaenys kept the sense of urgency.

“Why?” Jon asked as he took a defensive stance over Daenerys.  Did this princess not want to admit like her brother that Daenerys would never be Aegon’s.

“Aegon is meeting me here with my mother, neither would like see the two of you together. For your own good move away from here.” Rhaenys had been all for Daenerys marrying Aegon, had tried to help her brother to keep the uninterested girl’s eye. Had been because she had not known much about the affairs of the heart then, now having met a man she thought she might love, she was more sympathetic to Daenerys’ feelings of love for this boy.

Daenerys nodded to say she understood, then she stood to take Jon’s hand and lead him away. “Thank you Rhaenys.”

When they were a few corridors away from the garden they had vacated Jon asked, “Why would Rhaenys aid to hide us?”

“I do not know, she seems different since our return. Just as Viserys seems different.”

“Could it be a similar thing? Viserys seems very close to Rhaenys and she has seemed darkened.”

“How do you know how any of these people are different?”

“I lived in the bowels of the keep, as with a person, the bowels are privy to everything. Words and whispers filter down and you hear everything.” Jon answered enigmatically. “Varys’ little birds tended to relay their songs in the lower levels so no one knew what they relayed.  Except the boy in the Black Cell that never saw the light, I probably know more secrets than you.”

“Really?”

“Also your father rattled on to me about most things that rambled through his brain in our audiences.” Jon shrugged.  Aerys had told him a great deal which Jon did not understand at the time of Aerys telling him, but now in hindsight, Aerys was keeping the boy abreast of all the news and intrigue of the realm.  Maybe he had been grooming him to be part of the Game of Thrones the great houses played.

“How much time did my father spend with you?”

“Far too much for my health,” he saw her worried look as she thought of the tortures her father had visited on the boy. “Though not always bad, he had some good days where he just talked and told me about his life, and his family’s.  He told me how important you all were to him. He loves you all very much, he was always worried for his family.”

“He told you that?”

“He told Rickard Stark that.”

“Then how do you know it, Rickard Stark was dead by your birth.”

“Oh, your father still talks to him and gets advice from him, usually his best days are when he is following Rickard’s advice.”

“He really is insane, isn’t he?” She frowned at the knowledge she had always known but wished was an image she saw wrongly.

“Oh, off the charts. He is also trying his best to be good.  I could see it even when he was being evil to me.”

“How can you be so forgiving?” She would think she would want revenge.

“Sirs Hightower, Dayne and Whent were always kind and as I was one of the few to see your father’s relationship with the Lord Stark in his head, I saw a good man.  Rickard Stark was a good man and he is your father’s way of keeping that goodness alive. Also, what benefit would vengeance be to me?”

“Well, I am sure this King Aerion will allow you any vengeance you want on my father.”