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Chapter Text

"For the Watch."
He felt his flesh being pierced.

"For the Watch."
Again.
"For the Watch."

And Again.

"For the Watch."

And Again.

His body hit the cold hard ground as he gasped for air despite his pierced lungs. He felt himself being enveloped by a warm liquid, he realized quick enough that it was a puddle of his own blood.

Jon Snow, son of Eddard Stark and Lord Commander of the Night's Watch felt his life slowly leave his body as fatigue was spreading through his muscles.
It was so strange… To see his life flash before his eyes as his vision became blurry. He remembered Winterfell, he remembered his father, his brothers, his sisters, Ghost, Ygritte…

Jon found that he didn't care as much as she should have that he was dying. He felt relief, he had fought so much, so hard. He had felt so much pain when he learned of his father's demise and of the Red Wedding. His heart had been ripped from his chest when Ygritte had died. But now… he was going to see them again…
As his eyes closed, Jon found that he had no regret, he had lived an honorable life, he had always done what he thought was right, and if anyone would criticize him for falling for Ygritte, he'd punch them in the face and ask his love for forgiveness so he could feel her lips one more time.

He had earned this… To hell with the livings if their pride meant more to them than their survival. He would now rest, and let his past being washed away by his reunion with his loved ones.

Or so he had thought…

The next few seconds had been confusing, for Jon had felt his body being crushed in a fetal position as his eyes had been forced shut. He started to panic as he believed than an endless void would be his fate for eternity, yet, he suddenly felt a terrible pressure around his body. He tried to breath, but there was no air to fill his lungs, he tried to scream, but his mouth remained shut.

He thought he'd heard something, something that sounded like a voice. Was it one of the old gods ?

The next thing he heard was so kind of scream that seemed to have been muffled by a pillow. What in Seven Hells was happening to him?

The next second, he was born.
An air colder than he had ever felt when he traveled beyond the Wall bit his skin so hard that he screamed in horror. He felt gigantic hands carrying his body as exclamations he could not decipher resonated around him. He tried to struggle to get free of the giant that was holding him, but the creature's grip was firm, and as he shook his limbs as much as he could, he realized that he could barely move despite all his will!

"Seven hells!" A voice he'd never heard exclaimed. "That one is as wild as a wildling and as strong as a damn bull!"

Jon felt a blanket being rolled around his body, he tried to demand what was happening to him, but only cries and screams left his mouth.

"By the Seven!" growled a woman he did not know. "I've never seen a babe as feisty as that one, that's for sure."

"Your Grace!" another woman exclaimed. "You're not done yet! There is another one!"

"Another one?! " Queen Alicent Hightower gasped in horror before she was dictated to push again.

Jon felt himself being forcefully immersed into a bath as he kept screaming in confusion. Yet, the soft hands that washed his body managed to calm him down a little, and made him realized in horror that he was as tiny as a newborn! While he struggled to understand what was happening to him, he heard a woman scream the most terrifying and painful scream he has ever heard in his entire existence. Chills were sent down his spine, this was worse than any White Walkers' screech! Fortunately, it didn't last long for the young woman's scream to cease and be replaced by a child's wail that weren't Jon's.

Alicent Hightower let out a long and deep sigh of relief as she felt her second born leave her belly. Her head crashed on her pillow, her sheets were covered in sweat and blood, but she didn't care, he long labor had finally ended.

"Congratulations Your Grace!" One of the midwives said in delight. « You gave birth to twin boys! »

"Twin boys," she thought as she weakly reopened her eyes. "No wonder they were so hard to deliver."

"Where are they?" She demanded once she started to regain her senses. "Where are my sons?"

"Here is your firstborn, Your Grace." The oldest midwife approached her with a fully cleaned Jon in her arms. "Your second born must be bathed before being brought to you."

Alicent merely nodded, too eager to meet her first child. She almost snatched him from the woman's arms and took her time to admire him.

Jon had stopped wailing out of confusion, did that person, that woman just call him… 'her firstborn'? Was he about to meet his mother?! Had the Old Gods gifted him with a second birth?!

Desperate to finally get answers, he mustered all the strength his body could give him, and unsealed his eyelids.

The first person he saw was a young woman of fifteen… perhaps sixteen namedays at most. Which confused him even more, she was so young! Sansa couldn't have been older than her, yet… the warmth he saw in her eyes and the beautiful smile she gave him melted his heart in an instant.

Alicent felt tears of joy run down her cheeks as she was holding her first child for the first time in her young life. She almost laughed when she saw his curious look and his frowned little silver eyebrows, he was just so perfect!

"Hello little one," she greeted as she scrubbed her cheek against his forehead. "I'm your mother…"

Jon himself felt tears of joy fill his eyes, he had dreamed of this moment his entire life! He couldn't recall how many times he had begged the Old Gods for a mother! And now… now… after all his efforts and all his pains. He was finally rewarded… A second life… and a real loving mother… Jon truly couldn't have asked for more.

"Oh! Don't cry little one!" Alicent urged as she felt his tears against her cheek and immediately started to rock him gently. "Mommy loves you very much."

Unknown to her, her words had struck Jon's heart harder than a giant's fist, and he cried even more as he bathed in all the joy and love his mother was giving him.

Unfortunately, the moment was partially ruined when his crying twin brother was brought by another midwife after his bath. Alicent had wanted to take him as well, but the exhaustion due to the birth had caught up to her. She simply didn't have enough strength to carry two babes at the same time, so she reluctantly gave Jon back to the oldest midwife and took her second born in her arms in order to calm him down.

Jon was very frustrated for having to leave his mother's arms so soon, but despite his rebirth, he hadn't become so petty to deny his new brother the same love and care she had shown him. He just hoped his turn would come back soon enough.

Yet, as the midwives kept congratulating the young woman for the safe delivery of her children, Jon heard the door open and loud footsteps echo in the room.

"Alicent!" He greeted with relief obvious in his voice. "Has the delivery been safe? Is the child healthy?"

"The children." she corrected with a smile. "Twin boys, my love. Both with your handsome Valyrian looks."

Viserys smiled and let out a sigh, of both relief and sadness, which slightly confused his wife. He came to sit next to her, to take a proper look at the child she was rocking.

"This must be our firstborn," he said. "His name shall be Aegon."

The sudden declaration cooled Alicent's joy like a blizzard on a fire camp, unable to contain herself, she glared at her husband with all the anger she was capable to muster, but he didn't register as he took his eyes off Aegon to look at his other son.

But this time, the Queen prevented him from opening his mouth.

"Actually, my love, Aegon is only your second son." she corrected with more pleasure than she cared to admit. "Jonothor here, is your firstborn son."

Viserys' eyebrows shot up in surprise when he realized his mistake, however, confusion quickly took over him as he turned back to his wife.

"Jonothor?" He repeated unconvinced.

"Jonothor." She repeated with more than enough conviction for the both of them.
The King released a sigh of defeat, then proceeded to get up in order to meet his firstborn son, the son he had always wanted.

"Jonothor Targaryen," he said as he took him from the midwife's arms, "That is a rather unique name…"

"Well… Our son is rather unique." Alicent argued.

"And you forced my hand since you named our second one without my consent." she thought with fury. "I carried them for nine months! I suffered for hours to deliver them! I should have been given the right to name them both by myself!"

Unknown to her, Jon wasn't nearly giving as much thought to his first name as his mother was, his last name and his new father's looks had completely blown his mind away.

"Targaryen?!" he inwardly screamed. "I'm a Targaryen?! Oh by the Old Gods! Why?!"

Perhaps the panic in his eyes was evident, for Viserys shot his wife an apologetic look.

"I don't think he likes it." He tried to argue.

But Alicent would not have it, with renewed vigor, she gave Aegon to a midwife and held out her arms to get her firstborn back. Viserys knew better than to argue and obeyed his Queen.

"Hello Jonothor," She said with the most tender smile Jon had ever seen. "Tell me, do you like your name?"

There was no place in his heart where he could have refused her, he just loved her so much already, and it truly was his name. Targaryens be damned, Jon would be a damn Lannister if it would mean he would get to be her son.

So he smiled and let out a cry of joy that turned into an adorable baby laugh. When he saw this, Viserys smiled warmly and conceded his defeat.

"Very well." he acknowledged as he turned to the maester. "Let it be known to the Realm that Queen Alicent has given birth to two healthy Princes; Prince Jonothor and Prince Aegon."

Jon felt a thunderbolt burst in his skull. Had his new father just called his mother Queen Alicent? Was his brother's name truly Aegon?!

"Oh no…" He thought when he started to realize what had happened to him. "No… No…"

"And have someone fetch the Princess Rhaenyra," Viserys added as he took Aegon in his arms. "She has to meet her new brothers."

"No…"
There was no room for a mistake… he hadn't just been reborn, he traveled almost two hundred years in the past. At a time where Dragons still roamed in Westeros, and were about to Dance one last time.

(-)(-)(-)

In the end, Rhaenyra had not come to meet her brothers. According to the gossip of the midwives and handmaidens, the Crown Princess had blatantly refused to enter a room where a woman had given birth because of the way her mother had died. And Jon perfectly understood that reason despite the fact that he was still trying to wrap his head around what was happening to him. However, being a newborn didn't give him nearly as much energy as he needed to truly think about his previous and his new life. Exhausted by his emotions, he almost immediately fell asleep when he was put in the nursery next to Aegon.

That night, he didn't dream of the Wall, he didn't dream of Winterfell, of Ned Stark are all of his Stark siblings. He dreamt of his mother. Of everything she had gifted him in the short amount of time they had spent together, of all the love he had felt when she scrubbed his forehead with her cheek.

Jon didn't know what his life as a Targaryen Prince during the Dance of the Dragons would be, but he would eternally grateful to the old Gods for having given him the love he craved his entire previous life.

Unfortunately, his dreams were shorten when Aegon cried in hunger in the middle of the night. Now fully awake, Jon realized that he too, was hungry, yet he was too embarrassed to cry like his brother. He would just wait for the nannies to arrive, and blushed in anticipation of being breastfed.

The nannies didn't take long, their quarters were right next to the nursery after all, and soon enough, both Aegon and Jon were given their midnight meal.

Jon could help the flush when a young nanny of eighteen namedays had presented her pink nipple to him, and he also couldn't stop himself from drinking the delicious meal that had awaited him inside the breast. He honestly couldn't recall how long his supper had lasted, it was to enjoyable for him to care. On the other hand, he truly felt sorry and embarrassed when the nanny made him burp, for he had vomited a little on her dress but she had laughed it out and had put him back in his crib with a kiss on the forehead. Honestly, as far as he could tell, Jon never had this much attention and care in a single day and he loved it.
He yawned once alone and had tried to take a look at his brother, but it was too dark and his body was surprisingly hard to move. So he had closed his eyes and try to return to his dreams. But an unexpected visitor invited herself in the nursery, with a candle in her hand.

Jon suddenly felt being picked up and almost panicked when he met a set of beautiful and inquisitive purple eyes. It didn't take long for him to identify his new older sister.
Rhaenyra was perhaps even more beautiful than the tales about her beauty had described her, and Jon had inspected her just as much as she had inspected him. As far as he could tell, she didn't seem as bothered by his existence as he might have thought. But she did look sad, and her new brother wasn't sure why.

"You must be Jonothor," she whispered. "The firstborn son, Father had always wanted."

Jon frowned, if their father had always wanted a son, why did he keep Rhaenyra as heir?

Rhaenyra actually chuckled when she saw his frown, she spared Aegon a look before coming back to him.

"If only you had come earlier… from a different womb… then everything would have been so easier…"

For a terrifying second, Jon thought that his sister hated him simply because they didn't have the same mother, the same reason he had been hated for in his previous life.

But when Rhaenyra started to gently rock him, his worries were put to rest.

"You know…" she kept whispering. "As far as I could remember, Father had always wanted a son, so much so that he kept pushing my mother until she died trying."

Jon couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"When she died… I think he tried to atone by naming me heir… and I forgave him… Despite the fact that I wasn't sure if I truly wanted the throne. I think I just wanted my father to see me for what I was; his firstborn child."

Now Jon understood what she was trying to say, in a way Rhaenyra and him were not so different. Just like her, Jon had wanted Lord Stark to acknowledge him despite the fact that he was a bastard, to see him as his son like he did with Robb, Bran and Rickon, not just a slight to his lady wife. His new sister was the same, she had wanted her father to acknowledge her despite the fact that she is a girl.

"And for a time… " She continued. "I was happy somehow, happy to had become so important in my father's eyes and to the Realm… I felt more acknowledged that I had ever been."

Jon felt her tears fall on his face, he blinked his purple eyes to keep them open.

"And then… not even six moons after my mother's death, my best friend became my stepmother." She snarled with a bitter tone. "And less than a year later, she gifted my father with not one, but two sons. And I can't help… I can't help but feel that everything I've gained since my mother died has been taken from me, that her sacrifice was for nothing. That in the End, life will go on and I will be forgotten, without even a mother to wash away my sorrows and be there for me when I need her."

Jon understood, Gods he understood… This wasn't just a simple business of succession, this was about family.

In his previous life Jon had dreamt of becoming Lord of Winterfell, not for the prestige or for ambition, but for all the love and attention that Robb had received. He had never wanted to usurp his brother, hells, he had joined the Night's Watch to prove so; to prove that he was more than a greedy bastard, and to receive his Father's approval and the pride of rising high in an ancient order. But deep down, he knew he would have exchanged all of this for the confort and the love of a mother. What else would he have needed? What would he have had to prove if he had been a true born son of House Stark with a loving mother by his side, like his siblings?

'Many things', Lord Stark would have said, but meaningless compared to what he had tried to prove in his previous life.
Now… Now he realized that the roles had been reversed. By becoming the King's first born son -Gods, he still couldn't wrap his head around that… him? A prince?- he had overshadowed Rhaenyra the moment he had drawn breath. He had everything Rhaenyra wanted, but above all, he now had a mother. Something that his new sister had lost… For nothing… now that he and his brother existed.

Jon couldn't help but feel bad, was that what Robb had felt whenever he was called 'Snow' or 'Bastard'? It wasn't his fault, he hadn't done anything, yet he felt bad for overshadowing Rhaenyra. Despite the Fact that she was still heir to the throne, what else did she have that would fill her life with love? Maester Aemon's words resonated in his now tiny skull:

"What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms . . . or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy."

"What is a throne of swords compared to a mother's love?" Jon thought while he raised his baby hands towards Rhaenyra's crying face. "What does a ruler gain from all of his duties but a loveless marriage, constant threats and constant criticism?"
That's what the title of Lord Commander had brought him, knives to his heart for doing his duty to the Realm of the living.

Rhaenyra frowned in surprise when she felt her brother's tiny hands reach her cheeks, and widened her eyes when she realized that he was clumsily wiping her tears away. She opened her mouth, but Jon's smile and adorable little laugh melted her heart in a second.

Ultimately, Jon was only a baby, there wasn't much he could give to his new sister. But now, in this new life, with a new family, after years of service at the Wall without a family, he had love to spare.

Rhaenyra couldn't even possibly start to comprehend what had just happened, the only thing she knew is that she felt a warmth in her heart that she hadn't felt in a long time. And for a moment, she did feel her worries and sorrows being washed away by her little baby half-brother. A long and deep sigh of relief escaped her lips, she laughed in delight as she almost crushed him in a bear hug.

"Thank you," she whispered sincerely, "you're not that bad."

Slowly, she put him back in his cradle with a kiss to the cheek, then she turned to look at Aegon, but realized that her younger brother was asleep and chose not to disturb him. The Princess of Dragonstone, left the nursery quietly, sparing one last glance at Jonothor before leaving him to rest.

Jon felt a rare satisfaction fill his tiny body. His new life might not be what he could have asked for, and nothing would ever replace his pack in his heart. However, he now knew he had a purpose, a new family that needed him. A pack that needed his protection. He would make things right, not just for them, but to prepare the Realm for the Long Night better than he ever could at the Wall.

Chapter Text

Being a newborn had been sheer torture for Jon. He had nothing to do but sleep, drink milk from a giant nipple, pissing, shitting and having his ass cleaned by a woman's hand. On top of that, he found Aegon more annoying that any creature he had ever met in his previous life. He knew he shouldn't hold it to his new brother, but Gods did he hate to hear him cry, and he cried all the bloody time. His first years would be the worst of his new life, of this he was sure. His only joys came from his mother, who often visited him to sing for him and his brother. That was one of the dreams Jon had craved to see fulfilled. How many times had he seen Lady Stark sing for Sansa ?For Arya ? For Bran ? For Rickon ? And Alicent, the only person he would ever call 'mother' in both of his lives, had answered his prayers and fulfilled the gaping hole in his heart.

Rhaenyra's visits had been another joy during his infancy, his sister always picked him over noisy Aegon, and proceeded to tell him her day. She talked about her Dragon, Syrax. About Ser Criston Cole, her handsome bodyguard. About their Father, about the noblemen and women at Court.
She would talk for hours until he fell asleep or a handmaiden would inform her that her baby brother needed to be fed. Then she'd reluctantly let him go.

Jon felt glorious by his sixth month, for he could finally crawl around the nursery and even the halls of the holdfast when his caretakers would neglect to close the door after their visit. After having been almost immobile for half a year, he felt delighted in being able to move about without the humiliation of being carried with his face plunged in a young woman's chest.

However, he'd always get a little carried away.

"Prince Jonothor!" Shouted one of the nannies as he crawled under his cradle in an effort to evade her tyrannical pursuit.

Much to his chagrin, the nanny always managed to pull him out from under the cradle without much trouble.

"You mustn't go running now, my prince," she said with a tired amusement.
Jon just laughed, this was just a game for him, and he was so utterly bored that he had to invent new ways of entertaining himself until he grew large enough to read and to join the training yard.

Perhaps he was enjoying the attention too much, now that he thought about it. Perhaps years of isolation as the Bastard of Winterfell had affected him far deeper than what he had expected.

Now he was a prince, and everyone was over the moon for him, except perhaps his father, but Jon had already had a father, and Viserys had duties to the Realm as King.

He couldn't fault his new father for being absent, and perhaps he was being too harsh. Jon himself would have no idea what to do with a six months old baby.

"My brother is already a terror then," Rhaenyra said with amusement as she entered the nursery along with her loyal knight, Ser Criston Cole.

If Jon was happy to see his sister, he honestly didn't know what to make of her sworn protector. Ser Criston had been one of the villains he and his brother Robb had impersonated during their children's games, but now Jon knew better than to judge a man through what maesters had written about him.

After all, he had half-expected Rhaenyra to outright hate him for being a boy, but instead, his sister had confessed her insecurities and enjoyed his presence for moons. If Jon could prevent the Dance of the Dragons then he would do everything in his power to achieve his goal. In the end, Rhaenyra's line had sat the Iron Throne, while the Targaryen-Hightower line went instinct. Jon would find a way to prevent this, he would never harm his sister and would protect his mother and siblings, this he vowed.

"Love is the death of duty."

He brushed away Maester Aemon's words, his duty was to the ones he loved, in that regard, he was reborn lucky.

Rhaenyra smiled at her baby brother and took him from his caretaker's arms.

"You are getting heavier by the day," she said with a smile. "I cannot wait for you to be big enough to come riding with me."
Now that was something that Jon was eager to do; to ride a bloody dragon !

During his first life, Dragons had been instincts for more than 150 years, but nowadays, they still roamed around Westeros. Jon himself had received an egg that was constantly in his cradle. Sadly, the newborn hadn't felt anything from it, no warmth, no sign of life, nothing…

He hoped it wouldn't be an issue in the future, he was a Targaryen Prince, he was expected to ride a Dragon and lead it to battles and glory. And he would more than likely need one to prevent the dance.

Rhaenyra seemed to have noticed his somewhat worried look, as she proceeded to tickle him from head to toes, which made him laugh out loud so hard, he couldn't help but to gesticulate in all directions.

He remembered when he had done something similar to Arya when she was a babe, he was so glad to have an older sibling that would take care of him in such a way.

" There you go! " Rhaenyra said with pride as her smile reached her ears. " You're so much cuter with that adorable smile of yours! "

Jon laughed and his sister laughed with him, life was good despite being a six months old baby. Jon hoped it would last.

(-)(-)(-)

On the morning of his first nameday, Jon was awoken by a sudden heat wave that enveloped his tiny body in an instant. He opened his eyes in panic, and scanned the nursery, expecting the room to be on fire.
But there were no flames, and the handmaidens weren't alarmed at all, neither was his mother as she poked his cheek with her usual smile.

" Morning my sweet, and happy first nameday. "

Jon didn't answer, and the frown he was showing slightly took Alicent aback. Her firstborn had always welcomed her with warm smile and happy cries, never in his young life had he looked at her in such a way.

Unknown to her, Jon was still trying to understand were that heat wave was coming from, for he was almost suffocating. He sat in the middle of his cradle, and looked everywhere around him, before he finally realized that the heat was coming from his egg.
It was Rhaenyra who had picked and placed Aegon and Jon's Dragon eggs in their craddle, for Aegon, she had chosen a magnificent golden and purple egg, for Jon, she chose the egg she had chosen for their brother Baelon, when her mother Aemma was still alive, Dreamfyre's egg.

At that time, she had picked it because she had expected a sister that she would have wanted to name 'Visenya', the egg was white as snow and had reminded her of Vhagar. Yet tragedy had stroke her family and the Stranger had taken bother her mother and brother. And the egg had been returned to the Dragon Pit, where Rhaenyra had never laid eyes on it ever again. Yet, when she saw Jon for the first time and spoke to him, she had known, deep in her heart, that he would sew her wound and allow her to move forward. And that was why, she had chosen that egg for his cradle, believing this egg not to be cursed, and that if it was, Jon would break the curse.

All of this could be interpreted as unreasonable superstition born from the mind of a grieving daughter and sister. Jon didn't know half of what was going on inside his older sibling's head, and never knew of her torments. All he knew, was that the heat that came from the egg was real, and this old feeling that was starting to tickle his brain was very familiar.

He crawled to his egg under the worried look of his mother, and proceeded to grab in order to inspect it.

The moment both his hands were on the scaled rock, a crack resonated across the nursery, and another, and another.

Jon was as mesmerized and aghast as Alicent when he saw the shell break, and even more so when the head of his companion came out of his.

Jon couldn't believe his teary eyes when his oldest friend was reborn under his new form, for he knew, deep inside his heart, that this baby dragon had been a direwolf in his previous life. And just like said direwolf, he had shiny red eyes and white scales instead of white fur.

Ghost looked ecstatic when he saw his former master and future rider, he came out of the egg completely and flapped its wings happily while singing his joy with his new voice.

Attracted by Ghost's cries, the handmaidens hurried around the cradle and gasped when they saw their young prince welcome its dragon to the world. Alicent had not uttered a single word yet, too shocked to compose herself.
Jonothor was barely a year old, no one expected his egg to hatch before many years, yet it had happened. And the happy cries of the newborn dragon filed everyone's hearts with warmth and joy. Jon's eyes were filled with tears as he held out his hands to hug his new friend, Alicent had never seen a more perfect picture, her little quiet and always smiling Jon was her only pride and joy in her cold marriage life.

Without realizing what she was doing, she picked her firstborn up, and giggled as the baby dragon climbed on her sleeves to rest on Jon's belly as Jon himself made himself confortable in his mother's arms.
Without a second thought she rushed outside the nursery and went to the small council's chambers as her handmaidens were already indulging in gossip and spreading the happy news across the corridors.

When Alicent arrived at the small council's door, she was so taken by her little boy's success that she almost didn't notice how the Kingsguard allowed her entry without a word, understanding the urgent news that needed to be given to the King.
Alicent had never entered the small chamber before, mostly because Rhaenyra was still her father's cupbearer and their relationship had grown so cold that they hadn't spoken to each other in more than a year. However, Alicent knew that her former best friend often visited Jonothor, perhaps Jon's first nameday and the hatching of his dragon would be a first step towards a reconciliation.

(-)(-)(-)

" The Queen Alicent. " The Herald announced, much to the surprise of all the persons present around the small council.

Viserys and Otto had stood up, ready to inform her that a small council's reunion could not be interrupted by anyone, even the Queen.

But the sight that greeted them erased any intention of scolding the young consort.
Alicent was truly a sight to behold, with her bright green dress, her bright smile on her face and her little prince in her arms with his newborn baby dragon.

" My love, " She said warmly. " Our son has received his first nameday's present. "

Viserys laughed in delight.

" A more than welcomed news in what had started to be a grim day. " He said as he proceeded to poke Jon's cheek. " Well done, my boy! I think you're the youngest Dragon-owner in the history of House Targaryen! "

Otto Hightower's eyes gleamed when he heard this piece of information, he couldn't help but add:

" Truly, our prince has been blessed. "

Rhaenyra had almost frowned in disgust when she heard the Lord Hand's words, but she had found herself unable to. Today was Jonothor' nameday, his egg had just hatched ! She couldn't find it in her to be upset.

On the other hand, she wished she could just push her father and his hand away so that she could congratulate her brother herself.

But even if she had the ability to do so, a problem remained; Jonothor was in his mother's arms.

It might sound silly, but Rhaenyra often forgot that her baby brother was also Alicent's son. Even two years later, she hadn't digested the fact that her best friend had married her father. They hadn't spoken to each other in moons and never with kindness, it was actually the first time that she saw Alicent and Jonothor in the same room.

Suddenly, the baby dragon stretched his wings and let out a beautiful cry that made him look almost as cute as her brother. Then, without warning, the small beast clumsily took its first flight, and flew straight to Rhaenyra, who almost had to caught before its small wings weren't ready yet to fly.

The Realm's delight laughed as she saw the white reptile climb along her arm to reach her shoulder, and giggled when it proceeded to rub its small head against her cheek.

Rhaenyra smiled as she eyed the red iris of the creature, she felt a little twinge in her heart, though.

" Hello little one, " she whispered in Valyrian, " I've been waiting to meet you for a long time now… "

The baby dragon just shriek in return, and the Princess had taken it as a greeting.

A small sound escaped Jonothor' tiny mouth as he held his hands towards his sister, resulting in her and Alicent locking eyes.
There was no hostility in the young women's gazes, a bit of fear, a bit of apprehension, a bit of sadness. They would have both stayed paralyzed had Jonothor not insisted with another cute moan.

Alicent ended up being the bravest of the two, as she slowly approached her former friend with her son in her arms, Rhaenyra swallowed as they were closer that they ever have been in years.

" Gosht! " Jon cried as he held out his hands towards his dragon.

Both young ladies frowned as the one year old prince.

" Gosht! " He said again, and his dragon went down Rhaenyra's shoulder, back to its friend's baby belly.

It took Rhaenyra a moment to understand what her brother had just done.

" Did you just say…'Ghost'? "

" Gosht ! " Jon repeated with pride.

Alicent was over the moon.

" You've just said your first word! "

Rhaenyra was looking at the dragon, with a pensive expression.

" Ghost… " she whispered, and the newborn reptile lifted its head to look at her with his mesmerizing red eyes.

She exchanged a knowing look with Alicent, and for the first time in two years, she actually smiled at her. Her stepmother was so happy that she couldn't help but smile back.

" It's a good name. "

Chapter Text

When Jon turned three, he realized a cold and harsh truth; he had limits, far too much to make a significant difference.

And he had to be careful, his body might be three years old, but his ability to read as well as his intellect were intact, he couldn't afford to be too precocious or people would ask questions. Questions to which he wouldn't be able to answer.

Rhaenyra had left King's landing in search for a suitor, leaving Jon alone with his twin, his newborn sister and their mother. At times like this, Jon had realized that his father was a bad father, he never spent any time playing with his sons or trying to relieve his wife from the burden of being a mother of three. Alicent was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Heleana ended up being a terror, she cried more than Aegon ever did and the handmaidens and nannies weren't of any help to their poor mother, who had to rock her for hours in order to calm her down. Jon was distressed to see the woman that gave birth to him in such a state, she was sacrificing everything for them and had he been a real toddler, he would have never noticed all of her efforts and hard work. So he took it upon himself to relieve her as best as he could.
When Helaena had cried again, Jon had climbed into her cradle and had comforted her himself. However, he had greatly underestimated his little sister and the difficulty of the task. He was still three years old, his arms were short and weak and his body could barely support his own weight. Lifting his baby sister was hard enough, but rocking her by himself was impossible. So he changed his strategy, and proceeded to lay next to the baby and hug her to share his warmth with her.

It took some time but Helaena calmed herself down until she finally went back to sleep, Jon did not dare move though, afraid that he would wake her in the process.

Alicent had arrived in her apartments a few minutes later, and rushed to the cradle when she saw her firstborn lying next to his sister.

She was about to gently scold him when she saw her daughter asleep in his arms.

"Jonothor," she whispered, "What are you doing in here?"

"'Laena crying Mama."

Jon hated sounding like a toddler, but he was one… technically, so he had to maintain appearances.

"I wanted to help." he added.

A small shine of realization crossed Alicent's brown eyes, and a smile appeared on her face. She gently lifted Helaena's head to allow Jon to free himself, and picked him up to get him out of the cradle.

"Mama okay?" he asked when he saw the black circles around her eyes.

Alicent just smiled warmly to him, the way he had always loved to see her do.

" It's okay my darling, Mama is okay. "

Jon knew better though.

" Mama tired? "

In response Alicent let out a long yawn, it wasn't even the middle of the afternoon yet, and already, she was feeling her strength abandoning her.

As a man, Jon had never realized how complicated women's lives were, he had naively thought that since they didn't fight or train, they had no reason to feel more tired than men. Ygritte had been an exception because she had been a fighter that constantly needed to struggle to survive North of the Wall. But his mother's life was something else entirely. She had no support, no real friends, her husband wasn't dutiful towards their family and her children were hers alone to handle despite the help of the nannies and the handmaidens. Jon could only imagine how psychologically devastated his mother could be.
So he did the only thing he could do and swore to always do so; he gave her comfort. He wrapped his arms around his mother's neck and held her tight.

" I love you, Mama. " he said sincerely as he had dreamed to say so many times in his previous life.

He felt Alicent's tears flow against his neck as her arms tightened around his little body, then she broke, all the anxiety and loneliness that had gnawed at her during these past weeks were washed away by her perfect little prince.

" I love you too, " she whispered between her sobs, " By the Seven… I love you so much my sweet darling boy ! My pride… my joy… you're everything to me !"

She nearly collapsed on the couch as she kept her arms around Jon and cried and weeped as her son kept hugging her with what little strength he had. Him too, felt tears in his eyes, tears of happiness. He had often thanked the Old Gods for giving him a mother like her, she was kind, dutiful, and worked as hard as she could for him and his siblings. She was the only mother he'll ever have and he couldn't have asked for a better one.

He would do anything for her.

(-)(-)(-)

Rhaenyra returned to King's Landing far earlier than she should have, on the day Prince Daemon had returned from the War in the Stepstones as a victor.

Jon had been napping when his uncle had offered his crown to his father, however, King Viserys had insisted that his brother met his sons. Needless to say that Alicent had not been happy about that. Daemon's thirst for power was known at court, a few years back, he had been Viserys' only heir, now he was fourth in line behind Rhaenyra, Jonothor and Aegon. Alicent worried that the Rogue Prince would consider her sons to be a greater obstacle to him than the Princess of Dragonstone.

She had brought Jon and Egg herself, holding them both by the hand as they walked into the garden. Contrary to his older brother, Aegon was a real toddler, and the presence of so many people around him was making him nervous. But Jon, as dutiful as their mother, had taken it upon himself to reassure his little twin.

" Tank you, Yon. " Little Aegon said when he understood that his brother was helping him.

Even though, Jon answered with a smile, internally, he was conflicted. Aegon the second had been a lecher and a drunk, almost as bad as the fourth. The former northern bastard could not understand how the toddler that looked exactly like him could possibly end up this way. Aegon was shy and easily afraid, like any three years-old, what could push him to become an usurper and a pervert ?

Alicent took a deep breath when she saw her husband speak with her brother in law, she was afraid and nervous, Jon could say that much. On the other hand though, the Targaryen prince was curious to meet the 'Rogue Prince', a man he had read so much about when he had been the bastard of Winterfell.

Daemon was taller than Viserys, and stronger too, his muscles were easy to spot despite the red doublet and black sleeveless shirt.

" Ah! " Viserys exclaimed when he saw his wife arrive with his twins. " Brother, meet my boys; Jonothor the Precocious and Aegon the Shy! "

Jon wanted to scold at his sire for calling them that way, but he had to smile like a normal toddler; so he did. Aegon, on the other way, hid behind his mother's leg.

Daemon smiled, amused by his younger's nephew behavior. But he frowned a little when he crossed Jon's look.

" The Precocious? " he repeated with masked mockery. " What has he done to earn such a nickname? "

" His egg hatched on his first nameday, " Queen Alicent informed him with a fake smile. " And he spends his time taking care of his siblings… ALL of his siblings. "

She looked at Rhaenyra right after saying those words, the Princess of Dragonstone, who had been waiting besides her family for the right moment to make her appearance, graciously accepted her stepmother's offer and joined the family circle despite her father's angry looks.

Jon immediately let go of his mother's hand to reunite with his sister, Rhaenyra smiled when he did so and took him in her arms.

" 'The Lovable', would be a better nickname. " She claimed when she rubbed her cheek against Jon's. "He lacks the flaws of a common toddler, he doesn't cry and he is good at cheering people up. "

She then proceeded to tickle him, making him laugh and Viserys smile in the process.
" Aren't you a lovable little dragon? " Rhaenyra kept smiling as she accelerated her tickles.
However, before Jon could answer, a screech resonated in the royal gardens, and Ghost descended from the sky to everyone's surprise.

Ghost had grown in the past two years, his torso was now the size of a wolf, and he enjoyed flying far more than he ever enjoyed running in his previous life. He landed in the middle of the garden, frightening some guests in the process, then he ran towards Jon and Rhaenyra, and proceeded to rub it's head against the Realm's delight's legs as she laughed. Aegon hid behind his mother's legs while Viserys, Rhaenyra and Alicent were laughing at the young dragon's antics.

" I'm surprised you didn't chain it. " Daemon admitted as he was watching the creature's behavior carefully and curiously.

His brother merely shook his head.

" I intended to do so, but Jon refused to see his dragon chained. He cried and screamed so loudly that I had no choice but to release Ghost. Many among my court were afraid of the dragon's behavior, but Ghost was exemplary. His only preys were boars and deers from the King's Wood; and he brought many trophies to decorate his rider's bedroom. The Dragon Keepers keep saying that they've never seen a Targaryen bond as quickly with its dragon as Jonothor. "

" Is that so ? " Daemon asked, sincerely impressed. " What about young Aegon's egg ? "

" It hasn't hatched yet, but it doesn't matter. I'm confident that it will. "

Aegon didn't look half as confident as his sire looked, Ghost still scared him, no matter how friendly it behaved. Daemon noticed it with what could have been interpreted as a relieved look.

" Anyway, " Rhaenyra said, looking at her uncle with a smile, " congratulations on your victory. "

" Thank you, Princess. " Daemon answered while Viserys regained his angry frown and downed his cup.

A tense silence followed that brief exchange, and Jon couldn't help but wonder what was happening. Was it his new uncle ? He knew from Maester Luwin's lessons that Daemon and Rhaenyra ended up being married against Viserys' wish. Perhaps his new father could feel some kind of tension between the two that Jon was unable to feel.

Nonetheless, he felt that he had to break this icy silence before things escalated to an argument in front of the whole court.

" Uncle? " he asked with a genuine childish interest. " Can I see your sword? "

" My sword ? "

" Mama told me that your sword was legendary, can I see it? Please? "

Truth be told, Jon truly felt like a real child as he kept looking at Dark Sister's hilt. Visenya Targaryen's valyrian steel weapon was lost during his first life, but here it was, at Daemon's belt.

" Arya would have loved to see it. " he thought carelessly.

However, the thought of his long lost sister squeezed his heart like a rope around a neck. He had to struggle to prevent his tears from showing up.

His little ploy to ease the tension had worked though, all of the faces had relaxed.

Daemon pulled Dark Sister off its scabbard and handed it to his little curious nephew, who eagerly grabbed the hilt with its tiny hands.

He was still too young to properly lift a sword, even one made of Valyrian steel. So he contented himself with putting the tip down to examine it carefully. Aegon's own curiosity overcame his shyness, and he approached to look at the sword himself. However, Jon noticed that his twin was about to touch the blade itself, he quickly slapped his hand away.
" Yon! " Aegon squealed in protest as their parents frowned in shock.

" Don't touch the blade! " Jon scolded him. " Mama said that Valyrian steel cuts very well! "

But the younger twin did not understand what his brother had done and started crying.

" Your meany! " he accused as he wept like the three years old he was.

Alicent quickly grabbed her younger son in her arms, apologized to her brother in law and left to console Aegon and properly explain to him his twin's action, to make him understand that he was protecting him, not attacking him.

Meanwhile, Daemon had kneeled in front of Jon with a terrifying look and a curious smile.

" You're a sharp little thing, aren't you? "

Truth be told, Jon was afraid of his uncle, so he tried to protect himself by being the toddler that he was supposed to be.

" I'm sharp? Does that mean that I can cut? "

Daemon raised an eyebrow and merely chuckled, Rhaenyra did as well, but Viserys looked worried.

" With a sword, if you know how to wield one. " The Rogue Prince answered as he took Dark Sister from Jon's hands to sheath it. " Do I scare you, little nephew? "

The question had taken him of guard, Viserys and Rhaenyra were now frowning at Daemon who hadn't stopped smiling.

" Yes. " Jon answered honestly.

Now Daemon looked even more curious.

" Why ? "

The former Lord Commander of the Night's watch didn't know what to say to that. In truth, he was scarred of Daemon because of who he was, and what he had read about him in the history books of his previous life. Many maesters had supposed that the Rogue Prince despised his nephews because they had pushed him at the end of the line of succession for the Iron Throne and he was often compared to Maegor the Cruel. Had Jon been as tall and strong as he had been in his previous life, he would have still been scared of Daemon but would have had the strength, the sword and the skill to at least hold his gaze with courage. Right now, fleeing like a toddler was his only option.

" Because… " he hesitated. " Because since you're here, Father is angry at Rhaenyra. "

Now this answer broke Daemon's sharp smile and curious glance, he rose his eyebrows and got up, then, he looked at his brother with a mocking grin.

Viserys let out a sigh, he eyed his daughter and heir with annoyance.

" I'm not angry at your sister because of your uncle, Jonothor. I'm angry at her, because she came back without a husband. "

Rhaenyra flinched when he said that, she hadn't expected him to say it in plain sight.

" I can be her husband! " Jon claimed to defuse the tension. " I love her! "

His words didn't have the desired effect on his father who merely rolled his eyes at his antics, while his uncle was chuckling. Rhaenyra's heart, however, was filled with warmth.

She picked Jon up to hug him.

" If only you were older. " She sighed.

" If only, indeed. " Viserys added with a stern look.
The Realm's delight froze when she heard those words, for their meaning were not lost on her. And as Daemon was enjoying the show with a cup of wine, Rhaenyra immediately let go of Jon.

" Jonothor… I need to be alone, why don't you go play with Ghost? "

She tried, very hard, to be as gentle as possible. But the disappointed look on her brother's face told her that she had failed to hide her feelings.

" Okay… " he said defeated.

So he left, with a sad look and his small dragon by his sides. Rhaenyra felt bad, but her anger was greater.

" What did you mean by that? " She asked her father as soon as her brother was out of earshot.

" You know what I meant. " Viserys simply said as he downed another cup.

Angry and hurt, Rhaenyra left the gardens without saying a word, she fought tooth and nails to prevent her tears from appearing in her eyes.

(-)(-)(-)

That night, as Rhaenyra was escaping the castle to join her uncle on a little trip among the common-folk, Jon was dutifully helping his mother calming down a crying Heleana. But as he did so, he remembered the feeling he had felt earlier when he had thought of Arya. He hadn't known her fate in his previous life. Was she still alive when he had been killed ? And if not, how had she died ? He knew very well the monsters that men could become, had she been raped ? Murdered ? He would never know, he was doomed by ignorance. He didn't feel his own tears flow down his cheeks as he thought of his favorite sister's fate. And his heart kept being squeezed as he thought of Winterfell, of Robb… murdered at a wedding, beheaded and paraded with Grey Wind's head sewn on his neck. Of Lord Stark, his father, who never told him of his mother, yet welcomed him into his home and raised him as his son, him, a bastard. Of Sansa, sweet delicate Sansa who had dreamed of knights and songs and ended up being Joffrey's hostage. Of Bran and Rickon, his two wild little brothers who had been burned by Theon turncloak… He had lost everything but his brothers of the Night's watch, who ended up stabbing him for doing the right thing. And now… here he was, a Targaryen Prince with a new family, and a real mother, a dream fulfilled at the cost of his previous family… And Jon had shamelessly enjoyed his new life for three years without even sparing a thought for his first family. He never realized how selfish and despicable he could be, perhaps Lady Stark had been right all along.

Heleana had stopped crying when she felt her brother's tears fall on her cheeks, her purple eyes were wide in curiosity and wonder. Jon gave her a sad smile before a loving hug. He had been a terrible brother in his past life, he had abandoned all of his family for glory among the Night's Watch. He would not make the same mistake in this life, he would be there for his family, he would love them, cherish them and protect them all.

Alicent rushed to his side when she saw him cry as he held his sister.

" Jonothor? Jon? What is it? Why are you crying? "

He didn't answer, he couldn't tell her, so he let his head fall on her arm as he kept crying silently while holding Heleana.

Alicent didn't know what to do, except hug her wonderful firstborn and daughter and rock them gently as she started singing. Gods… How Jon loved her. She was a wonderful mother, the best in the World.

History be damned, Jonothor Targaryen would not be Jon Snow.

Chapter Text

Growing up a second time had been a more than a welcomed experience for Jon. Back when he was the Bastard of Winterfell, he had been forced, multiple times, to hold back against Robb during their sparring sessions; a necessary sacrifice to protect himself from Lady Catelyn's wrath and to prevent Robb from any potential humiliation. Indeed, Jon had always looked more Stark than Robb, had he bested him, all the Northern Lords would have had questioned Robb's ability to lead them. Therefore, Jon had had to hold back, for both their sakes. But Jonothor Targaryen had no such restraints. As soon as he was able to hold a stick properly, he found his way to the training yard with Ser Criston as his personal instructor and threw himself in his lessons. Since his first day, Ser Criston Cole had always praised him for his natural talent and his perfect concentration, he genuinely admitted he had never seen such potential in a boy as young as Jon, and Gods, did it feel good to finally be praised for your skills and hard work.

Of course, the blade was not the only thing Jon refined during his early childhood, as a Targaryen Prince, his mastery of the Valyrian tongue had to be perfect. Therefore, he spent many moons studying day and night to honor his new status… and his mother.

Jon's dedication to everything he did was almost entirely fueled by his mother's love and encouragements, she was always quick to praise, help and comfort him every time he needed it. At first, Jon had thought that it was normal for a mother to do such things, and that was why he had been so jealous of Robb in his previous life. But as he grew at Court surrounded by septas and ladies of all kinds, he ended up knowing better; ladies, no matter the birth, were expected to produce as many children as they could, be pious, honor their husbands, raise their children… And that was it… that was it. Jon… he really couldn't wrap his head around this. How could southerners treat their wives and daughters like that? Was that what Sansa had dreamed about during their childhood? To be a trophy and a baby-oven? No northern woman nor woman of the Free Folk would ever accept being treated that way. And Jon's mother was the greatest woman of both his lives, he could not believe for a second that this situation made her happy. That pushed him into being a far better student than he had ever been, for he wanted to find the root of this stupid notion, and he did: the Faith of the Seven.

Reading the Book of the seven pointed star had been a real trial for Jon, for he had absolutely detested almost everything that was written inside it. Not for the first time, he was very grateful for his time among the Free Folk, that had given him the skill to always question whatever people considered to be common knowledge. This book, in Jon's eyes, was pure hypocrisy put on paper. No lords nor King he had ever met, had dutifully followed the precepts of the Gods. Yet they all insisted (if not commanded) that their wives and daughters conform to the ideal image given by the Mother and the Maiden. If Jon had been repulsed by this, then he had not been ready for the passage on bastards. He had spent… countless nights, wondering why Lady Catelyn had hated him the way she did, why she had been so obsessed by his presence, why she had been so scared of him!

According to the Faith of the Seven, bastards were fiends born out of lust and cursed by the Gods for not being conceived in a holy union. Any woman who sires a bastard has dishonored her family -especially their father- and must repent, and any bastard must be treated like a walking sin to atone for their father's sin, otherwise, they would grow greedy and heartless and destroy their families for their own gain. No wonder Lady Catelyn had been so afraid of him, she had been taught her entire life that he was a fiend that would take over Winterfell and refuse to atone for his father's sin. Considering the fact that her life's sole purposes were siring children, praying and running a household when her husband or the steward were undisposed, it's no wonder he was the most terrifying thing in her perfect little world. And it's no wonder Sansa had believed the same… What a load of bullshit, half the population of King's Landing were bastards born out of lust and rape, a lot of them were from highborns, the women and children were victims of the men's lust and had to atone for the sins of men. Lord Stark had the decency to atone for his sin by raising Jon alongside his trueborn siblings, that's how a man is supposed to act!

Jon had outright discarded the Faith of the Seven for the grotesque lie it was, it's purpose was to indoctrinate small folk and women alike. There was nothing holy and divine in this damn book. Though, he wasn't stupid enough to not see it's usefulness on the masses. He would stay true to the Old Gods at least, thankfully, the Hightowers were first men that had resisted the Andal Invasion thousands of years ago, there were worst ancestors to have. But his questionable faith could not be known, otherwise, it could very well undo everything Jaehaerys did during his rule. His mother though… She firmly believed in the Faith, or she was rather desperate to believe in it, to find comfort knowing that all her sacrifices were not for nothing, that she was doing her duty wonderfully, and that she would be rewarded for her endeavors. Because of all of this, her children - and Jon more than the others- were her only source of pride and joy. She didn't seem to have friends, the ladies she spent her days with were more interested in court business than they were interested in her.

Jon did not know what to do, except perhaps being as good as he could to make her happy, spend as much time with her and his siblings as he could to make her smile, and dedicate himself to protect her from his… from King Viserys.

That was a man that Jon hated, not because he was an evil person, but because he was a selfish man, a terrible King and a worse husband and father. Viserys spent his days sculpting his model of Old Valyria, organizing feasts and tourneys, and doing whatever he could to please as many lords as he could. Jon didn't know much about ruling the Realm, but he had read a book about King Jaehaerys' rule, so he was pretty sure there was more to it than tourneys and feasts. Lord Stark had raised all of his children as equally as he could, including Jon, but Viserys only seemed to be interested in Rhaenyra. Lord Stark had honored his wife despite the fact that she was supposed to marry his brother, but Viserys…

One night, while Alicent was reading a story to his siblings and him, a handmaiden had come inside her chambers, and informed the Queen that her husband had required her presence. She dutifully -yet sadly- left, and when she came back, Jon had pretended to be asleep, he only caught a glimpse of his mother's expression but he would never forget her face.

She had looked… dead. Her eyes had been lifeless, her skin had been pale, her hands had been shaking.
She had been raped… there was no other words to describe what had happened to her. And a few weeks later, she ended up pregnant with her fourth child. Nine months later, Aemond Targaryen had been born.

Jon hated Viserys Targaryen for this, he was not a bad man, but he was unable to realize that he was harming his wife, using her for his own reliefs. And Jon did not know how to protect her… for he was only six years old, and he could only watch the events from afar and prepare for adulthood as best as he could.

Jon did not know how things had escalated this quickly in barely three years, Rhaenyra and him had grown distant since the day their uncle had returned from his war in the Stepstones. Apparently, their father's words for her during the feast had left a scare in the Princess' heart, and despite Jon's best efforts, she would not spend nearly as much time with him as she used to. Worse, she never looked half as happy as she used to.

Jon remembered her marriage to Laenor Velaryon as a miserable event, his older sister had looked sadder than he had ever seen her. He suspected that Ser Criston was to blame for this… Those two, who used to be as thick as thieves, had grown into distant ennemies in the blink of an eye. This was confirmed when the Kingsguard killed Ser Joffrey Lonmouth during the tournament that followed the wedding. Ser Laenor had been inconsolable that day. Which proved the futur King Consort's preferences regarding his bed companions, and increased Jon's worry regarding the legitimacy of the child his older sister was carrying.

Rhaenyra had been pregnant for eight months, and the Realm, Lord Corlys and King Viserys had rejoiced at the news. The only ones who hadn't were the Queen, Jon, and surprisingly enough, the Princess Rhaenys. Laenor had boasted at the soon to be born child that would be given to him, he had even claimed that the child would be named Joffrey, should it be a boy. But Lord Corlys had denied him. Ser Laenor's happy mood was reassuring to Jon, but he couldn't help but remember the lessons from Maester Luwin. Rhaenyra Targaryen had given birth to three bastard boys dark of hair, supposedly sired by Ser Harwin Strong of the Gold Cloaks. The eldest son of Alicent Hightower had noticed what could be interpreted as mutual affection between the knight and his half-sister, and even if he was still very much worried about the child to be born, he was even angrier at Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin. Breakbones was the heir to Harrenhall, he had been at Court for as long as Jon could have remembered, if Rhaenyra had wanted him to be the father of her children, why didn't she marry him? Unfortunately, he had spoken so little with her within the past three years that he was unable to guess her thoughts.

Jon had so many things to do… so many things to think about… His new family was so divided that he couldn't please someone without angering someone else. Every time Ser Criston or the Grand Maester praised him for his skills and intelligence, his mother had smiled at him, the young lads present at court had looked at him in awe, and Rhaeyra had glared at him.

Jon couldn't possibly understand why… He was child, he was her brother, how could she act that way? Would she have been happier had he been born a simpleton? Did she really expect him to be a threat of some kind simply because he was studious and skilled in the yard? Rhaenyra was even angrier when rumors about his dutifulness regarding his younger siblings had started to spread. The ladies, handmaidens, ladies in waiting and kitchen maids all marveled at his natural ability to be a big brother. The majority of the women of the Red Keep kept talking about his perfect behavior towards Queen Alicent, and his dutifulness at relieving and easing his mother's duties by distracting, playing and consoling his siblings. Those rumors wouldn't have been so bad had people not started to compare him to his father and sister. His siblings' handmaidens had found a way to say that he was a better father than King Viserys, how in the world have they come to that conclusion? Better yet, why were they denying his mother's deeds when earned? Not that Alicent wasn't given any credit, -after all, some handmaidens had claimed to have seen the Mother herself when she took a nap with Jonothor in her arms during her third pregnancy-, but Jon felt that his mother deserved more than half of the praises that had been given to him regarding his siblings. Because of his duties, she spent more time with them that he.

However… Alicent's portrait of the perfect mother was more than slightly stained because of Aegon's behavior.

Once upon a time, Jon had thought of Robb as his twin, even after they learned what the word 'bastard' meant. Aegon and him were real twins, born the same day, yet they couldn't be more different. And Jon blamed himself a little for that.

Egg was a normal child compared to him, he never had a past life filled with lessons, training and knowledge. So when Jon was declared a prodigy by the entire Court, many were disappointed when Aegon had not shown the same talent. At the beginning, Jon had tried to protect his twin from casual cruelty, he trained with him, studied with him and even encouraged him as much as he could to prevent him from drowning in his shadow. But all of his efforts were for naught when a young lady mistook Aegon for Jon and expressed her disappointment towards the so-called 'prodigy'. Since that day, Egg had been fiercely jealous of his older twin, no matter how hard Jon tried to fix their relationship, his first brother never moved past his bitterness. The fact that he was considered the 'lesser twin' had torn his heart appart, and not even their mother could mend his wound, for her second had realized that her too, favored Jon over him. Jon had his hair cut short to make sure that people never mistook them again, but Aegon mistook this for a petty act of arrogance motivated by selfishness. Indeed, now that people could tell them apart, almost all the warm looks and tender smiles Aegon had received from the lords and ladies at Court went to Jon solely. Turning Egg's bitterness into hatred and despite.

Jon did not know what to do regarding his little brother, he could only hope that his relationships with Aemond and Helaena would be warmer… He didn't want his siblings to suffer the way he did when he was the Bastard of Winterfell.

In the End, Jon's only and best friend was still Ghost.

He had grown a lot faster than him during those past three years, and the Dragon Keepers promised him that he would soon be able to mount him. Jon couldn't help but be excited by that prospect. Soon he would fly like Aegon the Conqueror, he would reach the sky and touch the clouds, it was a childish dream of him that he never thought would come true.

Ghost was already enjoying his new ability as much as he could, since he wasn't chained in the Dragonpit like the other dragons, he was growing a lot faster than Sunfyre or Syrax. But he would more than likely never reached Caraxes' size before Jon turns grey, if he lives long enough to turn grey.

Jon had fallen into a comfortable routine despite his complicated relationships with his family, his meals were delicious, his bed was the comfiest he'd ever knew, his clothes were of first quality, he was a prince, he got a lot of attention, Ghost had become a Dragon, and he had the greatest mother in the world… Jon could have easily forgotten about the Dance of the Dragons, and simply enjoy his new life. However, he was still a dutiful boy, and he refused to be as lax as King Viserys. He did not wish for a war, the Seven Kingdoms had to be strong and united, the Dragons had to survive in order to prepare for the arrival of the White Walkers in less than two centuries. The best way to avoid war was to fix his relationship with Rhaenyra, and after spending nights thinking of the best way to approach his sister, he chose the only he could actually do properly without taking the risk of stirring up her mistrust: the bluntest way possible.

After his lunch with his mother and his siblings, Jon went straight to Rhaenyra's bedroom with Ser Harrold by his sides. Normally, it would have been Ser Criston, but the boy knew the strained relationship between his sister and the stormlander and thought it best to request for a different Kingsguard today, he would give Ser Criston his reasons in the afternoon.

Rhaenyra almost never left her chambers since the sixth moon cycle of her pregnancy, he knew he'd find her there so soon after lunch.

He kindly asked Ser Harold not to announce him when they were on their way, he wanted his sister to speak to him directly instead of simply dismissing through the Kingsguard. He knocked politely and waited for an answer.

"Who is it?"

"Nyra? It's me. Can I come in please?"

A long silence followed that question. Jon felt the need to push his sister a little.

"Please Nyra… I miss you…"

Jon knew this was a low blow, yet it was all he could think of to force a conversation she had avoided for months, and it was genuine anyway.

Rhaenyra finally opened the door with a tired expression on her face and a hand below her heavy belly. She greeted Ser Harold with a nod and motioned for Jon to enter her room, which he did.

Once the door was closed, Rhaenyra went back to sit in her chair while Jon shyly sat in front of her.

Her expression was hard to read, she didn't seem angry or frustrated, she actually looked… scared. She was scared of her six years old half-brother?

Unfortunately, Jon did not have the time to think about it, since Rhaenyra spoke, her tone was… emotionless.

"So Jonothor, what was it that you wanted to talk about?"

"I just wanted to see how you were doing." He quickly answered. "Mother always needs help during when she is pregnant, I thought I could help you too."

Rhaenyra's eyes widened slightly, her face hardened in a blink.

"That is nice of you Jonothor, but I don't need any help, I have all the help I need."

"But they're all focused on the babe!" Jon protested. "You never leave your chambers and Ser Laenor is always in the training yard! Aren't you bored? Don't you need…?"

"Jonothor!" She thundered. "That's enough! There is nothing I need from you!"

Jon was taken aback by her sudden outburst, her violet eyes were filled with a violent emotion that he could only interpret as…

"Nyra… Why do you hate me?"

That question instantly defused the Princess's fury, she looked at him with a dumbfounded and worried expression.

"I don't…" She bit her tongue, and put on an iron mask once more. "I don't hate you. But…"

"Anything before the word 'but' is horseshit." Jon blurted out of habit.

He cursed himself for his stupidity, however, Rhaenyra looked more shocked than angry.

"Where did you learn that word?"

"From the stableboys." He lied. "You hate me…"

Now his sister truly looked frustrated.

"I told you already…"

"Why? What did I do? What did I say? You used to play with me every day! You promised you'd take me flying! Why… Why don't you love me anymore…?"

Jon suspected that he had a childish double personality that took over whenever he was feeling too many emotions. Perhaps the habit of talking like a child had become more than a habit, perhaps his feelings for his new family were sometimes stronger than he had thought. Nevertheless, his outburst had not been part of his plan when he came to visit his sister.

Rhaenyra looked horrified by his words, she paled and her eyes were filled with a deep sorrow that she had buried in her heart for years, she felt tears run down her cheeks and started to hyperventilate.

When he saw this, Jon immediately got up to help his sister, but she smacked him away with the back of her hand.

When Rhaenyra realized that she had hit her little brother, her breath got stuck in her throat, and her eyes widened in horror when she saw his split lip.

Jon was lying on the floor with a bleeding mouth, in shock, he slowly rose his head to meet his sister's violet iris.

"Oh Gods…" She whispered horrified. "Gods… Jonothor… I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to…"

The little Prince wiped some of his blood with the tip of his fingers, and looked at it in shock. He never expected Rhaenyra to lay a hand on him, what had he done to deserve that?

They stayed like this, paralyzed in horror for a handful of seconds, before Jon slowly got back up, he couldn't remember the last time he had felt as sad as he did that day.

Jon slowly walked towards the door with his head down, he didn't notice that Rhaenyra was trying desperately to find the courage to call him back.

He simply left without looking back, leaving his sister alone, like she has always been since her wedding.

Rhaenyra felt her heart ache at the pain and sorrow she had caused her little brother… She never stopped loving him, never started to hate him… Yet… Jonothor had asked why she acted the way she did towards him… And the reason why she had refused to answer was… because she was ashamed of that reason.

(-)(-)(-)

" If only you were older. " She sighed.

" If only, indeed. " Viserys added with a stern look.

The words her father had pronounced earlier that day had resonated inside her skull like a bell inside a sept, not once had she felt as low as Viserys had put her. She had loved Jonothor since the day of his birth, not once had she feared that he would take the Crown from her. Yet… She couldn't help but feel helpless. Jonothor had so many allies, he had a large family and he was a brillant boy. Rhaenyra was afraid that once he had grown, people would start wondering why they should let a woman rule them when they had a perfect little prince to crown.

She would have drown in her misery that night had her uncle not taken her from her chambers to bring her into the common folk to distract her mind. Rhaenyra had loved that moment, where she didn't have to worry about being proper and everyone believed her to be a boy. Her little trip with Daemon had been very enjoyable… until they had come across the stage of a mummer's street play.

"And now we come to the matter of the great iron chair... And whose bum it might bear!" An actor with hideous make up bellowed.. "Our great king names his daughter – a girl – his heir!"

A cry of boos and hollers came from the crowd that Daemon and Rhaenyra stood amongst. They at first watched the show curiously, though as the scenes revealed themselves, Rhaenyra began to feel her temper get the better of her.

"...Rhaenyra, the Realm's Delight, a girl so young and so slight. Loved by all her people... But, would she make a powerful queen? Or would she be feeble?"

"FEEBLE!" the common folk cried in disdain to the heiress' great shock.

"...Though Jonothor, the babe Prince, might long for a claim... He has two things Rhaenyra cannot claim:"

He pointed a finger at his crouch.

"A cock!" he bellowed before pointing at his temple. "And a brain!"

Rhaenyra could't believe what she had just heard, were the people really thinking that she was stupider than a three years old?

"Lies! Slander!" She cried with anger, but no one listened to her.

"Protest as you will," Daemon said, his eyes still on the show, "but many of the smallfolk are like to believe that as a male, Jonothor should sit the Iron Throne."

"Hm," Rhaenyra huffed, "the smallfolk's wants are of no consequence."

Daemon actually laughed.

"The smallfolk's wants are of great consequence if you expect to rule one day," he told her, but he could tell she was not listening.

"They're not the only ones who think so, if you must know." He added with the ghost of a smirk. "Many lords and ladies believe that considering the boy's intelligence, he would be a King as brillant as Jaehaerys."

"Jonothor would never take the Crown from me." She huffed with arms crossed. "He is lovable and he loves me, he'd rather die than betray me."

Daemon laughed harder, his laugh was filled mockery.

"You realize you're talking about a toddler?" he said with a mocking voice. "I'm sure Maegor was as nice as he used to be. But that didn't stop Tyanna of the Tower from whispering poisonous words in his ear, the same way Otto Hightower and his daughter will do to Jonothor once he has grown."

Rhaenyra did not miss the venom in her uncle's voice when he had pronounced her brother's name.

"What has he done to you? He's your three years old nephew."

"I bare no ill will towards him, if that is what you are wondering, it is his name that irks me. Jonothor is a westerosi name, not a Valyrian name. How can a Prince of House Targaryen bare such a ridiculous name?"

Deep down, Rhaenyra agreed with her uncle, Jonothor should have been given a real Targaryen name, worthy of the blood of the Dragon. However, she felt that it was not her uncle's place to judge the name of her sibling.

"It was his mother that named him!" Rhaenyra replied, angry at his tone. "She carried him for nine moons and loves him dearly, why couldn't she be allowed to name her child after all the trouble she went through to give birth to him?"

"The fact that she specifically chose a Westerosi name, common in the Reach, should have risen your suspicion my dear." Daemon answered with a calmed tone. "You do not realize yet the precariousness of your position, my dear niece. The Hightowers have gotten their hands on the blood of the Dragon, they're now going to mold their own brood into contenders to oppose us. Dragons made us Kings, they're the only ones who can unmake us."

Rhaenyra couldn't believe a word uttered by her uncle.

"You can't possibly mean…"

"I can, I am. Westeros fears us since the first day of the Conquest, but that does not mean that they have accepted us, that they see us as little more than invaders. It's our dragons, they fear, and now that they're getting their filthy hands on them… Do you really expect them to stay as docile as they have been all those years? Otto and his daughter will transform your lovable baby brother into a Hightower with Targaryen blood. They will come for you, they will crown him and put an end to our ways and your line. Love your baby brother all you want my dear, but he will never love you half as much as he loves his Hightower mother. And when he will be forced to choose between you and her… Do you honestly expect him to chose your wish over his family's wishes?"

Rhaenyra did not answer, she could not answer, she never thought about any of that! Jonothor was so sweet, so lovable, despite being a baby he had hatched his egg and renewed her friendship with Alicent! Alicent was so happy whenever her baby boy, was in her arms!

But then a cold truth hit her, Alicent did what Otto told her to do, that was why she had married her father. And if Otto told her to turn Jonothor into what Daemon feared… what if she filled his head with lies? What if she told him that the Iron Throne was his birthright, and she was a thief?

Alicent… She had betrayed her once for her family, she would do it again no matter what her heart told her too. And Jonothor, Daemon was right, he was a toddler, filled with love and happiness, but he would grow. Rhaenyra feared what he would grow into.

(-)(-)(-)

Rhaenyra had never forgotten this fear. It grew on her wedding day, when Alicent had entered the room with her green dress, and it became clearer every year when Jonothor would train, study, and dine sporting a green doublet.

Rhaenyra had grown distant from Jonothor, and year after year, she saw him getting better, surrounded by lords and ladies that praised him as if he was the true heir to the throne. That had been enough for her to believe Daemon's theory. He had been so infuriating, being so damn perfect, being loved and supported by everyone, even the handmaidens spoke of him as a perfect son and big brother.

When he had knocked on her door, Rhaenyra had armed herself with courage, as if she was about to have a conversation with her greatest enemy. But his outburst… it destroyed the image she had made up in her mind. It wasn't a usurper that had entered her chambers, it had been her baby brother… Who still loved her dearly despite all their years apart… and she had struck him.

Rhaenyra crumbled in sorrow. The handmaidens had gossiped that Jonothor had helped his mother go through all of her pregnancies as well as he could. He simply wanted to do the same with her, to help her… that is what he had meant, she knew that, yet she had rejected him.

Rhaenyra cried in shame and despair as her belly suddenly felt heavier and brought her to the ground.

She felt so alone. Laenor was her husband in name only, Ser Harwin brought her comfort but not love, her uncle had disappeared years ago, Alicent and her Father could never understood what she lacked.

Jonothor had understood, he had wanted to be here for her just like she had wanted, and she had smacked him away.

Why? Oh why? Did she fear him so much?

Chapter Text

Jon never told anyone who had split his lip, he pretended to have tripped in the stairs and had Ser Harold sworn to secrecy over the events that transpired in Rhaenyra's bedroom.

Ser Criston had been dubious, his mother had been furious, but none of them had pushed the subject.

Jon was more angry at himself than he was at Rhaenyra, after all, he had pushed her far more than what he had intended to, his sister had lost control of herself and instantly regretted and apologized for her slap. But that did not change the fact that she had hurt him, for he had seen, behind those purple eyes of hers, that she had been terrified of him. Jon could not possibly comprehend what was going on inside his sister's mind, he could not imagine what would have caused her to fear her six years old brother, but the fact remained that she was afraid of him.

Was she feeling insecure because of her sex? Did she fear that he would usurp her one day and take her place on the Iron Throne? Jon had no wish to rule, truth be told, he was actually glad he had been born after Rhaenyra, that meant that all he was expected to do was to find himself a suitable bride, perhaps even a big castle and lands to rule over, and aid his sister in her rule. A far better life he could have aspired to, had he remained Jon Snow.

Still… the fact that his sister was afraid of him had disturbed him. He had no wish to hurt her, but if he were to say that he was not afraid of any drastic measures coming from her part would be a lie. There were some lessons from his old life that he remembered, and among them were the gruesome punishment she had administered -or would administer- to those who had questioned her sons' birth. And perhaps… just perhaps… Rhaenyra would…

No, Jon refused to believe that she, of all people, would hurt him to secure her child's right to the Iron Throne. It wouldn't even be enough, for she would have to take care of his… of their brothers as well.

Such a thing was unimaginable for him, Jon wasn't even sure if the child his sister was carrying was indeed a bastard. But what if he ended up being one?

Jon would not hate the child, he was not Catelyn Stark, he would not despise a child for being what Jon himself used to be. But at the same time… Jon could not help but feel deeply hurt by the irony of his new life.

Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell, had known his place, and would never have betrayed or usurped his trueborn brother. But now, he who was trueborn, was supposed to accept a bastard's claim over his? That was preposterous to say the least. The Seven Kingdoms were already having a hard time accepting a woman as heir, how could they accept a bastard after her? Many wars had started and would start for far less than that. His sister could not possibly imagine that she could get away with that without a tremendous amount of bloodshed.

Yet… after witnessing the distress in Rhaenyra's eyes… Perhaps… Perhaps he had made a mistake.

His sister was not some kind of evil slut that wanted to sully the Iron Throne with unworthy heirs. She was…often alone, she had not many friends, her husband did not take good care of her, their father was rarely here for anyone… Mayhaps she simply did not care if the child was a bastard or not, she would see it as her child and defend it with everything she has. That was all a mother could do and all a child could ask. The problem was social, and would escalate should things keep going the way they were. If, as Jon suspected, the wrong seed had impregnated his sister, and if the child's traits were too obvious to the eyes of the World, heads would fall, tongues would be ripped, and Dragons would dance.

Jon did not know what to do, the child that was inside Rhaenyra's womb would be his nephew, he was bound to defend him as he would defend any member of his family. However, he knew that the child's bastardy, if confirmed, would cost this family far more than it should.

This child that was growing inside his sister's womb and all the others that would come after him… The Dance had practically started over them, the fruits of Rhaenyra's loneliness, born from the…

Jon stopped himself for a second, in the blink of an eye, he forgot everything about Rhaenyra and her children, his thoughts focused solely on Ser Harwin Strong.

What in the name of the Old Gods has this man been doing?! Bedding his Princess, spilling his seed in her womb without a care in the World. Did that man not care about fathering a bastard? A Royal one at that! Did he not care that Rhaenyra was about to give birth to one? Did he not care about his child's fate, should it look nothing like its mother?!

Rage overcame Jon as he realized who was the one to blame for the Targaryen family's inner turmoil. Ser Harwin had dishonored his princess, condemned his own brood to bastards lives, and never took responsibility for his sins. Men far more honorable had been executed for far less!

Hatred and rage were too potent for Jon to handle alone, soon he drowned in those as he imagined Breakbones' cocky grin after he had defiled his sister.

Jon was not in his bedroom anymore, he was flying in King's landing's sky, under the moonlight, screeching in fury.

He went down to brush against the city's rooftops, while thousands of people screamed in fear and delight as they saw him pass above them, his red eyes scanning each and every armored man, looking for the one he wanted to destroy.

His hunt lasted for hours, yet, he went back to his nest empty-handed that night, angry and frustrated, he went to sleep, and his purple eyes reopened.

(-)(-)(-)

Usually, when Jon was breaking his fast with his family, he was in a good mood. His mother would welcome him with kisses, his sister Helaena and his brother Aemond would rush to hug him, Aegon would sulk but at least he'd be polite. And Viserys would barely say 'good morning', then he'd eat his food and leave. Rhaenyra rarely shared a meal with them.

But today, as he made his way inside the dining room, he immediately noticed his father's severe look and his mother's worried gaze, and couldn't help but raise a curious eyebrow, as Helena and Aemond came to hug him.

"Jonothor," their father said as he waited for his younger children to release their brother, "sit down, we need to talk."

"You could have said 'good morrow' at the very least." The boy thought before he took his place between his mother and twin.

"During the night, your Dragon, Ghost, has been spotted flying dangerously close to the city's rooftops. Reports say that he screeched like he was possessed and that he terrified many of the smallfolk."

"But he did not hurt anyone, did he?"

"No," Viserys acknowledged, "he did not. But I am afraid that because of last night's disturbances, your dragon will have to join the others in the Dragon Pit from now on."

Rage immediately flowed inside Jon's body, rage that was shared with his flying friend, he gritted his teeth but forced himself to remain calm and composed.

"Why? Because he screeched a little? Someone must have been stupid enough to throw something at him and fast enough to hide before he could find the culprit. There is no need to punish Ghost."

"Jonothor." The King said with a stern voice. "That is enough, I tolerated your antics regarding your dragon because it never caused any trouble until now. You will obey your King…"

"I refuse."

Alicent gasped, Aegon raised his eyebrows at his twin's bold act, Helaena and Aemond looked worried as the Kingsguard present looked aghast, even Viserys was flabbergasted before he regained his composure and increased his severe look.

"You dare…"

"I am sorry father,"Jon spoke before his liege finished, "But chaining Ghost would destroy the bond he and I have shared since my first nameday -and before-. I would forever loose control of him if I were to betray his trust. I will accept any punishment you see fit, have me whipped, forbid me from flying on his back until my tenth nameday, lock me in my chambers for months, strip me from my title as prince of the Realm if you must, but I cannot chain him. Know that it is not my wish to disobey you, Father, it is simply something I cannot do no matter what happens. I swear by the Old Gods and the New that such an incident will not happen again, Ghost's behavior will be exemplary. Please Father…"

To Jon's surprise, Viserys looked slightly conflicted, perhaps the King had expected his son to simply follow his command no matter how hard it would be for him. But to hear that Jonothor was ready to give up his title as prince of the Seven Kingdoms to protect his dragon… Now that was something that Viserys had not expected. Such a declaration was more than enough proof that his boy had an iron will that could not be bent so easily.

"Listen to me, Jonothor, and listen to me carefully." The King warned. "I'm willing to give you Dragon another chance, given how well you have pleaded for its freedom, but I warn you: should Ghost cause any trouble in the city, I'll have him sent to Dragonstone and you will not be granted the right t ride him until your sixteenth birthday. Am I clear?"

Needless to say that Jon was angry, his dragon had barely screeched a little one night after almost six years of good behavior. He knew that talking back to the King would be risky, but under no circumstances would he see Ghost put in chains, that much was out of question.

"Yes, Your Grace." He answered diplomatically.

"Good!" Viserys rose after barely touching his food. "Now, I believe you have duties to attend, finish your meal and go, I expect to hear good things about you from the Grand Maester this evening."

And with that, the King left the dinning hall, escorted by two of his Kingsguards, letting his oldest son ruminate under the critical eye of his Mother.

"Jonothor…"

"I know, Mother." He sighed apologetically. "I am sorry, but it would have been unfair for Ghost to be chained, he was angry because of me."

"What do you mean?"

"He felt my anger through our bond, it was me who was angry… not him."

Those words only made Alicent's concern grow.

"What were you angry at, my son?"

"Who." He corrected as Breakbones' smugly face appeared in his mind. "Who…"

(-)(-)(-)

That night, as he was laying in his bed, Jon contemplated what had happened to him and Ghost the night prior. Despite his rebirth outside of House Stark, Jon was still a warg, and a powerful one at that.

He didn't exactly know why… perhaps the blood of the First Men still present in the Hightower's bloodline was not as diluted as people had thought, perhaps the power of his Valyrian blood had awakened his dormant abilities, or perhaps, the Old Gods had simply granted him this gift, and he intended to us it to its full potential.

Today and last night's events had him reconsider the ways he could use warging and skinchanging inside the Red Keep. First of all, he couldn't use Ghost to do his bidding, no matter how strong their bond was, Viserys' warning this morning had made him realize that he couldn't risk his friend's freedom if he wanted to keep him close for the years to come. And Gods only knew how much he needed his friend by his side.

However, that did not mean that this ability of him was useless at the moment, far from it. In his previous life, Jon had not tried to reach his full potential as a skinchanger, mostly because he had been afraid and wary of this ability.

So he opted for a different approach, or rather, a different target.

There were rats everywhere in the Red Keep, those rodents were swarming among the secret passages of Maegor the Cruel, were no one could find them and killl them. Jon found one, caught it, brought it back to his chamber using only his will.
The rat was filthy, skinny and more importantly; obedient. It would do.

The Prince of House Targaryen, trained every night to perfect his control over the cohort of rodent that swarmed inside the walls of the castle. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying, to be able to see through hundreds of eyes almost broke his poorly trained mind, but he persisted, he kept trying for weeks until he could obtain total control over the filthy little creatures that now answered to him.
The first thing he did once he had mastered them, was to explore each and every secret passage and tunnel inside the castle, it took him more weeks, and a lot more headaches, but at the end, his efforts paid off; he now knew the Red Keep as well as The Cruel once did.

His second challenge was… more devious. To become his own master of whispers.

For days, he sent his rodents through the tunnels to watch and listen to the different resident of the Red Keep, unfortunately his endeavors weren't exactly successful. He learned a thing or two about some ladies and some knights, but nothing of actual value.

So he went farther, perhaps too far, perhaps he should have known what was going to happen to him when he went down this path, yet he did not turn back.

A rat quietly found its way inside Rhaenyra's chamber at the hour of the Wolf, and the Princess had not been alone.

Indeed, despite her coming labour, she was naked as the day she was born, huddled in the strong and hairy arms of Harwin Strong. Breakbones was gently massaging his lover's heavy belly and full breasts, Rhaenyra looked lost in her own passion.

"I can't wait to see him," the captain of the City Watch confessed, "Our boy…"

"You're too impatient," the princess gently chastised him, "I'll be done with this miserable pregnancy in a week or two. Besides, how do you know it's a boy?"

Ser Harwin's laugh was thundering.

"With a belly as large as yours? Surely it is a boy. A large and Strong Targaryen boy, our perfect prince."

"Hush now, you are too loud."

Breakbones let out an exasperated sigh.

"Aye, that is my curse… To have the most perfect woman and child in the world and not being able to walk by their sides…"

Those words caused a glint of sadness to shine in Rhaenyra's purple eyes for less than a second.

"I am sorry Harwin, truly, but you know this can never be."

"A small price to pay to bed a goddess made flesh." Breakbones declared as he gently pressed his lover's nipples, making her moan. "The humble servant that I am only wishes to please you, my Queen. I want to give you as many sons as you can bare! I want to see our boys roam the skies and make us proud, they will be strong, stronger than Aegon the Conqueror!"

"Focus on this one before thinking about any other!" Rhaenyra laughed.

"But my Queen, I could never focus on anything else but you by now, and your beauty is to blame."

Rhaenyra laughed again and drowned in his embrace as he covered her skin with kisses. Both lovers couldn't possibly imagine that Jon was watching and listening through the eyes and ears of the rodent that had hid under a piece of furniture.

(-)(-)(-)

When Jon woke up… he found his feelings in turmoil. Rage, anger, frustration, sadness, despair, contempt and exasperation had taken over his mind. How could act like this? Talk so casually about siring bastards that would usurp the Throne under the eyes of all the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms? Did they really expect the highborn and the smallfolk to accept this mockery? Did they really think that their actions would not escalate to a bloody war that could devastate the Realm? And what about their children?! The ones that were going to be called bastards and usurpers their entire lives?! They were the real victims of their debauchery and carelessness! The real targets of those who would oppose their ascension to the Iron Throne!

The Dance of the Dragons, the conflict that killed the beasts that represented the power of House Targaryen and left the living, defenseless against the Others two hundred years later… happened because two individuals had chosen lust over duty !

Once again Maester Aemon's words resonated inside his skull:

"What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms . . . or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy."

The words of the Old Maester managed to calm the young Prince as he was breathing heavily. Rhaenyra had needed love, comfort and an heir. Her husband couldn't have provided any of those things, and in her despair, he could understand why his sister did as she did. She just wanted love, as she had confessed to him that night in the nursery.

But Harwin… Harwin Strong repulsed Jon more than anything in this World!

That man had dishonored his princess, condemned his own child to the life of a royal bastard, spoke openly about having it usurp the Throne and still expected to produce more! As if Rhaenyra was a broodmare that he could use to pump more Strong boys with Targaryen blood!

This… Jon could not let it go, not with everything he knew.
Ser Harwin's debauchery, carelessness, stupidity and crime would not go unpunished, this Jon vowed.

(-)(-)(-)

The next day, during the meeting of the Small Council, an officer of the city watch came to inform the Hand of the King, Lord Lyonel Strong, that his son Harwin had been attacked by a pack of stray dogs while he was returning from a tavern with some of his drinking companions. Indeed, no less than seventeen dogs had rushed from all the corners of Flea Bottom and had jumped at Breakbones' face and crouch. Leaving him bleeding out, in the mud, without a nose nor a cock. By the time he was brought to the Grand Maester, he had already died.

Chapter Text

'GnawedBones', such had become Ser Harwin Strong's nickname among the common folk once news of his death had spread like wildfire. It took a great deal of effort for Jon not to laugh when he had heard it from a bunch of servants. He couldn't help but being very proud of himself.

He remembered everything, every sensation, every feeling when he had ripped his sister's lover's flesh with his many jaws. The screams and the cries for help, the fear and the horror in his eyes… Jon would remember this his whole life, he knew he would never regret it.

As he walked through the corridors towards the training ground with Ser Criston by his side, he realized that he was in excellent spirits. His young age and small body had prevented him from making significant changes since his rebirth, now though, his secret ability would allow him to become an actual player of the Game of Thrones -as his grandfather had called it-, one that no one would be suspicious of for perhaps a decade.

As he was walking with a light head and a big smile, a scream of agony destroyed his good mood and alerted his senses.

Ser Criston immediately put his hand on his sword's hilt, however, when a second scream was heard, he released his weapon as Jon's eyes grew larger. Both had identified the screamer.

"Rhaenyra…" Jon whispered as he spurned around. "Where is she?"

"My prince," Ser Criston rose a hand to appease him, "There is no need for you to worry, I believe your half-sister has simply gone into her labours."

If the Kingsguard expected the young boy to be reassured or to be dismissive regarding this piece of news, he was sorely mistaken, for Jon immediately started to panic.

"Where is she?!" He demanded.

"In her chambers I suppose, my Prince, but…"

Jon did not wait for him to finish his sentence as he started running towards his sister's chambers like his life was depending on it.

Ser Criston was unfortunately too cluttered by his armor to keep his pace, he tried calling for him but was ignored, Jon could only hear his sister's screams.

It didn't take long for him to reach Rhaenyra's doorstep, yet two new obstacles appeared in front of him with their white cloaks and wary looks.

"My Prince." Ser Harrold Westerling greeted with a nod. "There is nothing for you to worry about, you sister is simply giving birth…"

"Rhaenyra?!" Jon screamed at the door, ignoring the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. "Are you okay?! Can I do something for you?! Rhaenyra?!"

Ser Harrold's look grew stern, he placed a firm hand on the door to bar its entrance to the six year old.

"My Prince," He said with a severe voice. "There is nothing you can do but wait, a woman's labours are not men's business."

Jon's face contorted in rage, surprising the knight who had never seen him like that. The Targaryen Prince was no Maester nor midwife, but he had heard his mother give birth to Aemond and she had not screamed like Rhaenyra had. Once again, The heiress to the Iron Throne's pain echoed across the corridors, Jon's rage swapped for horror in a second.

"Open this door!" He commanded with all the strength and authority he could muster. "Now!"

"I cannot do that, my Prince." Ser Harrold said, remaining firm.

"Lord Commander!" Ser Criston called as he had finally caught up with his charge. "This is our Prince."

"No one is to enter those chambers by order of the King." Ser Harrold replied, his patience running thin. "Not even the Prince or the Queen, Ser Criston."

The stormlander bit his tongue, obviously frustrated, he chose to focus on Jon.

"My Prince, there is nothing you can do, let us leave and wait until your half-sister is done with her labours."

"I. Don't. Want to leave!" Jon screamed with fury. "I want to stay here! My sister needs me! I… I…"

He put his forehead on the door, tears of fear started to shine in his closed eyes, his breath was getting heavier, his heart was pounding in his chest, he could almost hear Ghost's desperate cries.

"Nyra… I love you… Please… let me help you… Please…"

Upon hearing his words, Ser Harrold's iron will bent slightly as he finally realized his prince's distress. The man he was would have allowed the boy access to the Princess' chambers, but the knight had his orders, and a duty to uphold. Nevertheless, Ser Harrold's opinion regarding his Prince had risen higher than his mother's lineage.

He would have kept his arm on the door for hours had it not been opened by a young midwife.

Jon almost fell to the ground, but he immediately stood up, his eyes filled with worry.

"The Princess wishes to see her brother." The young woman politely informed the Kingsguards. "No one else is to enter."

There was no word to describe the relief that had appeared on Jon's face, without wasting a second, he jumped inside the room and froze as the midwife closed the door behind him.

Rhaenyra's bedsheets were stained with her blood, the midwives around were blurting instructions that Jon did not even hear for he was too horrified by what his sister was going through. But he was the blood of the Dragon, the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, and more importantly, Rhaenyra's brother, he could not let fear and horror possess him.

He rushed by his sister's side and took her hand, the palm was sweaty, as was the Realm's Delight's face and hair, she was crying in pain and her breath was erratic, she was scared.

"Nyra?" He called as he climbed on the bed to kneel near his sister's face. "It's okay, I'm here, you'll be fine."

Slowly, Rhaenyra opened her tired eyes, blinked several times to get rid of her tears, and looked at her little brother's worried face. She could not believe that he was here.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her voice was weak, she was exhausted.
"I…I heard you screaming…" Jon whispered back as he felt his heart beating in his chest. "I was so worried…"

She couldn't prevent a small smile from appearing on her face, her lovable little brother, the only one who never give up on her.

"I'm… so sorry… for slapping you…"

"It's okay!" He almost screamed. "I forgot about it…"

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to say more, but the pain came back and shook her body, once again, she screamed in agony.

"Princess!" The oldest midwife called. "You must focus, you are not done yet!"

The Targaryen Princess answered with another cry as Jon squeezed her hand as hard as he could.

"It's okay Nyra, you can do it."

"I-I don't want to die like my mother…" Rhaenyra's voice was filled with terror.

"You're not going to die!" Jon declared stubbornly. "You'll give birth, then you'll take a bath."

Despite her situation, she laughed a little.

"Don't laugh." He mockingly chastised her. "You really reek, Nyra."

This time, an authentic giggle escaped the young woman's throat, she reopened her eyes to gently cuff her little brother.

"I'll drown you in that bath once I'm done." She warned with a smile.

"You need to be done first." Jon replied as he smiled back. "Come on Nyra, you can do this."

Rhaenyra took a long and deep breath as she found renewed strength in the boy's encouragements, then she waited a second for the midwife's signal and started pushing again.

The pain was agonizing, her cries were torture to Jon's ears, but he never let her hand go. No matter how hard she was crushing his.

After a hour of work, one of the midwives suddenly exclaimed:

"The head!"

"One last push, Princess!" The oldest warned.

"You're almost done, Nyra…" Jon whispered. "Come on."

Rhaenyra mustered what little strength she had left, and pushed as hard as she could while letting out an authentic battle cry. Her brother heard a disgusting sound coming from her crotch but remained focus on her face.

Then… a baby's cry echoed in the room as a midwife chirped in delight.

"It's a boy, Princess! A healthy strong little prince!"

A groan of exhaustion escaped Rhaenyra's mouth as she reopened her eyes and sat up straight with Jon still by her side. The umbilical cord was cut and the baby wrapped up in a blanket before it was brought to her. As she laid eyes on it for the first time in her life, she burst into tears of joy. Her baby, her son, her heir, the one she had carried for so long and suffered so much to obtain, was finally in her arms. She held him close, and gently rocked him in order to calm his cries and reassure him.

As she did so, she missed Jon's look.

Jon had always known what kind of baby would come out of his sister's womb, and he had been ready to love him all the same… yet… this feeling… he couldn't describe it… that knot in his stomach when he saw those brown hair of his. It reminded him of everything. The Dance that was coming, Harwin Strong's unbearable boasting, his fath… Viserys' disinterest towards him and his siblings other than Rhaenyra… All of this for a bastard…

Jon shook his head, the babe was not at fault and the father had paid for his sin. Jon was now an uncle, and he needed to act like it.

"What's his name?" He asked, using his childish voice.

Rhaenyra rose her head to look at her little brother, without warning, she wrapped an arm around his neck and held him close.

"Thank you…" She whispered as she was crying one his shoulder. "Thank you so much, Jonothor, I couldn't have done this without you…"

"Of course you could, I just wanted to be here for you."

Rhaenyra held him tighter, his words brought her the comfort she had so desperately needed since Harwin's death. After what she had done to him, she never expected him of all people to support her in her life's biggest trial. No one else had done it.

"So, what is his name?" Jon asked again.

"Jacaerys. Jacaerys Velaryon. That is his name."

Her brother frowned when he heard this.

"But he is going to sit on the Iron Throne one day." He pointed out. "Shouldn't his name be Targaryen?"

"He will take the Targaryen name once he sits on the Throne, but until then, his name will be…"

She paused as she felt something coming from her guts, she let out a groan of panic and quickly passed her babe to her brother in order to get up.

"Is it the afterbirth?" A midwife inquired.

The only answer she got was the stream of blood that the Targaryen Princess expelled from her body and poured out on the floor. She put her hand on a piece of furniture to stay up as a new wave of pat came to irradiate her body.

Jon only watched in petrified abhorrence as his sister was going through another of childbirth's trial, he was very glad he hadn't been born -nor reborn- into a woman.

While the midwives helped supporting Rhaenyra through her endeavor, Jon lowered his head to look at Jacaerys.

The babe had stopped crying, and had now opened his brown eyes for the first time, he was staring at his young uncle. Jon felt something strange gnawing his guts, was it guilt? It could be, after all, the Targaryen Prince had murdered that baby's father, and here he was holding him in his arms. He was conflicted, he did not regret making Harwin pay for his sins. Moreover, he had to prevent that swine from impregnating his sister with more bastards of his, but to orphan a child who had yet to be born, his own nephew, there was nothing he could think of that would ease the guilt on his mind. Jon gently rubbed the baby's cheek, secretly apologizing for what he had done to him, and for not nearly feeling as sorry as he should feel.

For the first time in years, Jon thought of his brother Robb, murdered at the Twins with his wife and unborn child by the Freys. Had Robb won the war, Jon would have became an uncle far sooner, he wondered what his nephew or niece would have looked like. He wondered if he was no better than a Frey…

No he was not, Jon had murdered Harwin to protect Rhaenyra and Jacaerys. A bastard, that child was, but his blood he would always be, and since Jon had taken his father from him, then he would atone, to protect his pack.

As Rhaenyra was slowly regaining her strength, hasty footsteps were heard from the other side of the door, the next second, Viserys Targaryen entered with a big smile on his face.

"I've just been told, a boy I heard!" The King said, his tone filled with joy.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his son, and frowned with confusion.
"Jonothor, what are you doing here?"

"He's been helping me, father." Rhaenyra was quick to answer despite her fatigue. "He stayed by my side until my labours ended."

This explanation did not have the expected effect, as Viserys' look towards his oldest son turned severe.

But once again, Rhaenyra was quick to speak:

"Please Father, do not be too harsh on him. Jonothor's support was crucial for Jacaerys' birth, I am glad my little brother stayed by my side."

Viserys exchanged a quick look with his daughter, and let out a short sigh.

"Very well, Jonothor, you will not be punished, but do not do this again. A woman's labours are not men's business."

"Well, it should be." Jon defended as he was gently rocking his nephew. "Isn't it our fault in the first place if women have to go through this?"

The young midwives present in the room chuckled at the audacity of their prince, the oldest merely shook her head with a well hidden grin on her face.

"The little prince is braver and smarter than most men ten times his age." She acknowledged.

While everyone in the room was chuckling or smiling, Viserys' expression had turned grim as he remembered the last time he had been there for a woman's labours. He felt like someone's hand had pierced his chest to press his heart like a lemon.

Rhaenyra went back to sit on the bed, and took Jacaerys from her brother's little arms. Jon sat beside her to keep looking at his nephew.

"I think he is an albino." He said all of a sudden. "He has brown hair and brown eyes."

Rhaenyra's joy evaporated in a second, and she froze as if time itself had frozen. She forced herself to smile despite the dread she was feeling.

"That is more than likely the case." She quickly answered as her father was calmly walking towards them.

"May I meet my grandson?" He asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

Rhaenyra kept smiling, no matter how hard it was for her as she handed her son to his grandfather. Viserys carefully brought him to his face, examining him with a criticizing look, hopping not to see what his son had seen. But his prayers felt into deaf ears as he realized Jonothor had been right, that child could not be Laenor's. His daughter and heir had given birth to a bastard, a slight, a mistake.

For a second, Viserys felt a crushing pressure on his shoulders, how could the Gods be so cruel? How could his daughter be so naive? What had he done to deserve this? He had killed Aemma, the answer came to him so quickly that his pressure was washed away by a wave of sadness. Of course, everything made sense now. He needed to pay for his sin, he who had murdered his wife to realize a dream… Perhaps… perhaps this was his chance at redemption! A boy… a prince of his blood and Aemma's! Perhaps it was he who was supposed to sit on the Iron Throne! It made perfect sense! Viserys suddenly felt an eruption of joy from inside his very heart, he had waited for so long, sacrificed so much, but here he was! His perfect little prince! The one he had been expecting for so long!

The King of the Seven Kingdoms felt tears of joy run down his cheeks as he kissed his grandson's forehead. Finally… finally his dream was coming true.
"A fine prince," he said in delight. "Sturdy, he will make a fearsome knight."

Rhaenyra's sigh of relief did not escape Jon, who, at this point, was not even surprised by Viserys' reaction. He should have expected it, the King would protect Rhaenyra no matter what happened, something about this rubbed him the wrong, for he was a trueborn prince, yet, the man supposed to be his very own father seemed to love a bastard more than him. The Gods had a cruel sense of humor.

(-)(-)(-)

Jon neglected his duties for the rest of the day in order to lock himself in his room to think, surprisingly, no one reprimanded him for that. Maybe people were to busy celebrating the birth of their new prince to care, or perhaps, people acknowledged the fact that supporting his sister during her labours had taken a toll on him. Jon had needed to be alone, to think about what was about to happen. Gods, he hated Viserys, he had hated him for what he was doing to his mother, hated him for the way he neglected his siblings besides Rhaenyra. Those words he had said, his reaction towards Jacaerys, Gods! Jon would have killed to have Lord Stark acting this way towards him, but at the same time, he simply could not even begin to imagine what Robb would have felt had their father neglected his trueborn son for his bastard… Jon did not know what to think, he did not care about the Iron Throne, he had no wish to rule, he genuinely loved Rhaenyra. Then why, why did it hurt so much?

Someone knocked on the door, pulling him out of his thoughts, Jon shook his head and yawned.

"Come in."

Jon should have expected his mother to visit him, she seemed to always know when something is wrong with him. He welcomed her embrace with a sigh of relief.

"Jonothor," she whispered as she lovingly rubbed his cheek with her thumb, "What possessed you to enter Rhaenyra's chambers as she was giving birth?"

"I just wanted to help her, you did not scream that loud when you gave birth to Aemond, I assumed something was wrong."

Alicent let out a long tired sigh, how could she be mad at her little boy for simply being her little boy?

"Please don't do that again, Jonothor. This was not something that one as young as you should have seen."

"Yes mother, but I didn't see much; I focused on Rhaenyra, she looked like she was in a great deal of pain and she was terrified. I wanted to be there for her."

"I know, sweetling." She whispered. "All the handmaidens and midwives have been praising you for your dedication. But you don't need to grow up too fast, Jonothor, there are things that a six years old should not do or see. Why do you wish to always do more than what seems to be necessary?"

"Because no one else does." A frustrated Jon replied. "Father doesn't, Rhaenyra doesn't, Ser Laenor doesn't do anything. I feel like I have to do everything because everyone else is neglecting everything. You are the only one who tries, but you have Aegon, Aemond and Helaena to raise. It's like we are two different families…"

Jon cursed himself as soon as those words left his mouth, his frustration and childish behavior were getting the best of him. He should be promoting unity, not division.

Alicent simply sighed one more time.

"Perhaps you are not far from the truth, my sweet. And with this child's birth, it is now clear that Viserys and Rhaenyra have other priorities than this family's stability or the Realm's."

Jon frowned when he heard that, not that he disagreed though.

"What do you mean?"

Alicent gave him a long hesitating look, perhaps she was wondering if telling her six years old boy what she was thinking now, would be a good thing or a bad thing. For she had no wish to instill doubt in his mind, she had no wish to see him unhappy or struggling with things that only adults should be struggling with.

"Jonothor… this child, Jacaerys, he is no albino…"

"He is a bastard, I know."

Alicent's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

"You do!?"

"Aye, I do, I just had no wish to wrong my nephew for the sins of his parents. It's not his fault… He is just a babe…"

The Queen almost slapped her forehead, she should have seen this coming.

"Jonothor… I understand that you are trying to protect your sister and her child… but don't you see that you are being robbed? Rhaenyra is passing her bastard as a true born prince of Velaryon blood. She wants to place her bastard boy on the Iron Throne while you, a true born prince and the King's firstborn son, will be…"

"Mother, please, I don't want the Throne."

And he did not want to talk about it either, he just wanted to enjoy his mother's embrace for as long as he could.

Alicent wondered if she should push the subject, but ultimately decided to drop it, for now at least. Jonothor was six, she would not put more pressure on his tiny shoulders, his burden seemed heavy enough.

"What do you want then, sweeting?"

"To live a long and peaceful life with my family." He answered truthfully.

Alicent smiled at his words and held him tighter.

"This family is very lucky to have you, Jon."

Jon melted in her embrace and let his frustration and fear being washed away by his mother's love.

"I am very lucky to have you." He whispered

Those simple genuine words were more than enough to ease Alicent's own anger and frustration, as well as all the violent emotions she had felt since she saw Jacaerys' hair.

Rhaenyra could keep her damn bastard, Alicent wouldn't trade Jon for anything. The Seven had granted her a perfect son, the Realm would never be as blind as Viserys.

Chapter Text

Jon's life was many things, but easy was not one of them. Never in a million years would he have ever imagined that studying and training could be relaxing and relieving. Yet, those were his only stress relievers, and Gods did he need them with all the things he had to take care of in this new life of his. Perhaps he was trying too hard, perhaps the fact that he was part of a family for the first time since he had left Winterfell had created feelings that were too strong to ignore. Whatever was going on inside of him was now fueling his life, and making the future. Jon was now nine years of age, and the past three years had been difficult for him. As always, he had been overly concerned to do the 'right thing' as often as possible, this 'forced' him to be a perfect son for Alicent, a good Uncle for Jacaerys and a good brother for each of his siblings. The last part hadn't been as much of a success as he had hoped, Aegon being Aegon.

If there was one person that Jon couldn't understand, it was Aegon. The former Lord Commander of the Night's watch knew what the second of his name used to be, yet, he also knew that no one was born evil, and that was why he had believed he could change his twin for the best. How wrong he had been.

With each passing year, Aegon became more and more jealous of his twin. And said twin could not really blame him for that, after all, he was perfectly aware that he was everyone's favorite. That included their two younger siblings. Helaena and Aemond, now six and five, followed their oldest brother like two lost puppies whenever they saw him. To say that Jon did not enjoy their presence would have been a complete lie, for Jon loved them almost as much as he loved his mother. It was hard for the Targaryen prince to have a minute for himself with his youngest siblings on his heels whenever he was studying or training. Helaena craved his attention, she always wanted him to read her stories and to teach him the Valyrian tongue. No matter how good her handmaidens and the maester were, Helaena would pout all the way through the story or the lesson if it was anyone else than her brother teaching her. Alicent had feared the worst when her only daughter had turned away the septa's lessons, however, the Queen had ended up shaking her head when she had realized that Helaena simply wanted her brother or her mother as a teacher, and since Jon simply refused to teach her anything about the Faith, Alicent took it upon itself to teach her. It soon became one of the Queen's favorite tasks. Even though she regretted teaching Helaena the Doctrine of Exceptionalism. Now her daughter not so secretly started to see her brother differently, fortunately Jon had been there to calm her ardors.

Aemond had been a breath of fresh air in Jon's life, the little boy who had become the One-eye prince that had burned down the Riverlands in Jon Snow's history book, had taken Jonothor Targaryen as his role model. Aemond did not just want to be taught by his oldest brother, he wanted to become exactly like his oldest brother. So much so that he had demanded to be taught how to read despite only being five year old. Viserys had refused him, the maester was already very busy treating his King's sickness and teaching the princes and princess, he had no time to give Aemond extra-lessons. Fortunately for the little prince, his mother had decided to teach him himself, for she had been reassured by her little boy's ambition and did not want him to end up like Aegon.

Aegon… Aegon was always angry, he hated everything and everyone. He hated everything because Jon seemed to be able to do everything, and he hated everyone because everyone preferred his twin over him. The nine year old prince had tried to become better than his twin, he had trained harder than Jon, studied longer than Jon, and had even dressed fancier than Jon. All in vain, for no matter how hard he tried, Aegon never came close to Jon's level, and that drove him mad. Aegon even hated his own face, because he couldn't see it as his face, it wasn't his, it was Jon's! Everyone who had mistaken him for his twin had proven that fact. The only thing that was Aegon's, and Aegon's alone, was Sunfyre. The Golden dragon was Aegon's greatest pride, for it was considered to be the most beautiful dragon ever seen in Westeros. Jon's dragon, Ghost, who was simply white as snow, was little challenge. And yet… despite that, everyone ended up preferring Ghost to Sunfyre. Because of one particular event.

One day, the little Princess had escaped her handmaidens -again-, to look for her oldest brother. Since she couldn't find him in the Red Keep, she had asked one of the Kingsguards to bring her to the Dragon Pit, where she expected her brother to be. Ser Willis Fell had been the unfortunate White Cloak who had obeyed his six year old Princess without asking questions, something he would never do again after this event.

Their trip to the Dragonpit had been unsuccessful, for the only thing they found was the sleeping figure of Ghost. The White dragon did not sleep in the Dragonpit contrary to every other dragon, it had a little nest on a small hill where it slept most of the time. Ghost only entered the Dragon stable on rainy days, but had never been chained since its birth. The Dragon Keepers had never seen such a peaceful dragon in all their experience, he was the only one who had never worried them, and it is only thanks to its good behavior and Jon's numerous pleas that it had never been chained.

Helaena had been so frustrated that her long trip to the Dragonpit had ended up fruitless, immediately went to the sleeping white dragon while Ser Willis had been looking elsewhere for his eldest Prince.

When the kingsguard had finally realized that his princess had sneaked away, and was now less than ten feet away from Ghost's sleeping form, his skin had turned pale, and he had rushed as fast as he could to catch the toddler before the Dragon realized that a walking little snack was coming his way.

Unfortunately for him, the ringing of his armor immediately snapped the Dragon's eyes open. And despite his peaceful reputation, Ghost's crimson eyes were the most terrifying thing Ser Willis Fell had ever seen in his life. Despite only being eight year old, Ghost was larger than Syrax had been at his age. The white dragon had been very angry to have be awaken in the middle of his nap by a noise as annoying as the ringing of an armor, however, he had cooled himself down the moment he had seen Helaena's bright smile.

"Hi Ghost!" She had said, waving her hand joyfully. "Do you know where Jon is?"

Ghost eyed the little princess for a few seconds, then went back to his nap. Ser Willis let out the louder sigh of relief he ever had.

"Princess." He whispered as he came closer to his charge."The Prince is not here, we should go back to the Red Keep and leave this Dragon alone."

Helaena stomped her foot on the ground in response, she had been so frustrated! She had known for sure that Ghost always knew where Jon was and she had wanted to find Jon! So, in front of Ser Willis' horrified face, she had started climbing on the back of the white dragon who rose its head in protest.

"I wanna see Jon!" She had demanded as she wrapped her tiny arms around the beast's neck. "Bring me to Jon! Soves! To Jon, Ghost! Jonothor!"

Ghost cried in protest as Ser Willis could not find it in himself to move his legs. The only thing he did was watching the Dragon's tail wrapping around the Princess' waist. He had tried to step forward but Ghost had roared at him, startling him and made him loose his footing. Jon's dragon had then proceeded to place Helaena on its back rather than on its neck. After he had made sure the grip of his tail had been firm, and that the Princess had properly clang to some of the spikes on his back, he spread his wings and took over as Ser Willis desperately called for his charge and as Helaena screamed in delight.

Ser Willis Fell would never forget the sheer terror he had felt when he had believed that his head would be on a spike by the morrow.

(-)(-)(-)

Jon had been training with Ser Criston Cole everyday since he could lift a sword, and today was no exception. You could say anything you wanted about the Stormlander, but he was a far better. instructor than Ser Rodrick Cassel would ever be. Despite his past life experience, Jon had never met a better swordsman than the kingsguard, and that made him realize that he had a lot more to learn than he had believed in the first place.

His training sessions used to attract a crowd, but Jon had always been a private person and training was one of his few stress relievers. So he had asked his mother for private lessons, away from curious eyes, a request granted by Alicent. Thanks to the Queen, Jon and Ser Criston had been training in the Royal Garden near the weirwood tree for the past year, giving them plenty of privacy to train harshly and speak plainly. And both of them enjoyed those privileges more than they expected. Jon's relationship with Ser Criston was… weird from the Prince's point of view. As a child playing with Robb in the courtyard of Winterfell, Jon Snow had impersonated Criston Cole as one of their villains. But the day Ser Criston started teaching Jonothor Targaryen how to wield a sword, the latter's opinion about the stormlander changed. Ser Criston was a monstrous taskmaster, his training was harsher than anything Ser Rodrick had ever put him to, yet, and to the young Prince's greatest surprise, Criston Cole was far more preoccupied by his charge's feelings than Ser Rodrick ever had been. And as the years passed, Jon found himself closer to the White Cloak than he'd ever imagined he would be. Ser Criston was always quick to praise and criticize him whenever he deemed it necessary, he could be as harsh as he could be understanding. And he often sat by his student's side to talk about what was on the boy's mind. Jon was thankful for that, even if he hated it when the Kingsguard hinted that he would be a wonderful King. And even more so when he 'innocently' pointed out the fact that Jacaerys was brown of hair and had brown eyes.

The Iron Throne was by far, the most dangerous and ugliest thing Jon had ever seen in his life. The Prince had known, since the first time he had laid eyes upon it, that he would never, ever desire that thing. For even though the vast majority of the Realm saw it as the symbol of ultimate power, Jon could only see the promise of a miserable life filled with pain, lickspittles and backstabbers. Truth be told, Jon was unable to understand why so many people wanted that thing, what he understood, however, was why people wanted him on that thing. The main reason was: because they did not want Rhaenyra as Queen. The second reason was because he was a boy, the third reason was because he wasn't 'purely' Valyrian, the fourth reason was because he was considered a prodigy, the fifth reason was because many lords hoped to make their daughter a queen.

None of those reasons were good enough for Jon, so he simply changed the subject whenever the Iron Throne was mentioned in a conversation. Unless it was his mother who had brought it up, in that case, Jon would make time to speak with her. But his mother was special, the rest of the Red Keep was not.

As he was drinking water from his canteen and wiping the sweat off his face with a towel, Ser Criston was picking up the blunted tourney swords and carefully studying the face of his Prince. He let out a long sigh and lightly cuffed him behind the head.

"My Prince broods too much while there is no need to." He joked as he himself, drank from a canteen. "It is a lovely day, and you've done well, so, has something happened? Or are you -again- losing your mind in one of those deep subjects you do not wish to talk about?"

"The latter." Jon answered in a monotonous tone. "Sorry, Ser."

Criston Cole smiled and ruffled his Prince's hair, Jon never liked when he did that, it reminded him too much of the few special moments Jon Snow had shared with Ned Stark.

"There was a time when such behaviour would have worried me." The Kingsguard admitted. "But now, I know your brooding is proof of your maturity, so I don't mind if you keep things from me. That you don't keep too many things from your mother is all I ask."

"I usually don't." Jon answered as he frowned. "How is brooding a sign of maturity?"

"Because smart people are full of doubts, my Prince. Idiots are simply full of themselves."

Jon actually smiled at that, and beamed a little.

"I could just be sad." He replied.

"You don't look sad when your mother is praising you, or when your little siblings are running after you. Are you truly sad, my prince?"

Jon sighed.

"Not really," he admitted after a moment, "I shouldn't be sad anyway, I don't have reasons to be sad."

Now Ser Criston rose an eyebrow.

"You are sad." He realized. "Why is that?"

The Targaryen Prince shook his head, then proceeded to look at the horizon.

"I simply wonder if there are things I can do… or things I could have done to… stabilize my family."

The Kingsguard rose an eyebrow, and knelt in front of the boy.

"Are you talking about your sister?" He asked.

Jon almost rolled his eyes, of course Ser Criston would think about his sister first.

"Actually… I was thinking about Aegon."Jon replied, on his guards. "Rhaenyra and I have been able to mend our relationship after Jacaerys' birth. But I don't know what to do about Aegon… He hates me."

"No he doesn't…"

"Yes he does." Jon cut in. "Don't sugarcoat this, Ser Criston, Aegon despises me because we have the same face, but not the same skills. Therefore he believes he will always be the 'lesser' twin… Had he been a year younger that I, things would have been easier."

The stormlander crossed his arms, and began to think.

"To be fair, my prince… do you mind if I speak freely?"

"Do so."

"I'm a commoner." He stated bluntly. "My father was a steward and my mother was no noble lady. In order to become who I am today, I had to work harder than others, train harder than others, survive where others have died, and defeat people that believed themselves to be better than me. Your uncle had been one of those people."

Jon held back a laugh, Ser Criston and he shared an amused grin.
"People, nobles and commoners alike, despised me because I was better than them, and they had no excuse to justify their failure. Your brother is like those men to me; he is your twin, yet, he is clearly not as good as you are. Had he been more serious in his studies and his training, had he not started the moment he had realized he was being praised for your accomplishments, perhaps he would be as good as you."

"He was a toddler."

"An actual toddler." Jon wanted to add, but couldn't.

"So were you." Came Ser Criston's predictable answer. "But to be perfectly honest my prince, I admit without shame that I would have never imagined a boy as talented, smart and kind as you existed before your fourth nameday. A prince least of all."

"What do you mean?"

Ser Criston looked hesitant for a second, he looked around to make sure they were alone.

"When I had arrived in the capital, I used to admire the Targaryens because, like many of the common people I thought they were gods made of flesh."

"That was stupid." Jon said without thinking.

Ser Criston actually laughed, then he cuffed his little prince.

"I was naive." He corrected with a half-severe tone. "Not when I went against your uncle in… the late Prince Baelon's tourney. I admit without shame that he was the greatest foe I have ever faced even to this day."

"But you defeated him." Jon remembered.

"But I defeated him." The stormlander confirmed. "Because he got arrogant and turned his back on me. That's why my image of the Targaryen's 'godliness' was not too fractured even after my victory. It was his mistake that had costed him the win, not my skills."

"I see." Jon nodded.

"But still…" Ser Criston went on. "I felt so galvanized by my victory, that I dared asking your sister for her she gave it to me."

The Kingsguard let out a long sigh in order to get his emotions under control.

"You have to understand, my prince; I was no one. A steward's son from the Stormlands, and yet I had defeated Prince Daemon Targaryen and won the favour of the Princess Rhaenyra. I could have died the next day without … well my dream kept going on… A few days after your sister was made the official heir of King Viserys, she introduced me into the Kingsguard, personally."

"Why?" Jon asked. "I mean, today I understand why, but at the time except for a win against my uncle, what else did you have that the others hadn't?"

"Military experience." Cole replied quite proudly. "All the others knights had been tourney knights, I was the only one who had ever seen a battlefield."

Jon frowned deeply when he heard that.

"You can't be serious." He said in disbelief.

"But I am. And despite all the tourney knights with flashy names, your sister chose me to defend her."

"A wise pick." Jon nodded before he frowned again. "Where are you going with this story?"

"You will see. Your sister was, in my eyes at least, the greatest woman I had ever met. The most beautiful for sure, and she had granted me the privilege of being her sworn shield. I had risen higher than any Cole ever had, this white cloak, it is my greatest pride but…"

Ser Criston hesitated, he knew his Prince's deep affection for his sister and feared the worst should he come to know what had happened between Rhaenyra and him. Perhaps he ought to hide this part of the story.

"Your sister…" He started before he caught himself."No… It was my fault… I… I sullied my cloak and the Princess… She… She did not care…"

"You bedded her?"

Jon had read about the supposed affair between Rhaenyra and her sworn protector in a history book back when he had been Jon Snow. What hadn't been clear, though, was the circumstances in how it happened.

Ser Criston looked absolutely horrified, now he was left with no other choice than to confess his sin one more time.

"I… did…"

"Did you seduce her? Or did she?"

"I… it should not matter."

"It does matter." Jon pressed as his thoughts went back to Ygritte. "I did the same mistake as he."

Ser Criston breathed again.

"She did." He confessed, his tone shameful. "And I was unable to repel her…"

A long and heavy silence followed that declaration, Jon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What happened after that?"

Ser Criston shook his head, his voice no longer hesitant. His Prince was his mother's son, he could understand.

"I proposed Rhaenyra."

Jon burst out laughing before putting his hand on his mouth. The Kingsguard's face turned into an upset grimace.

"Sorry." Jon quickly apologized despite his obvious amusement. "My apologies Ser, but you should have known better."

The stormlander sighed to ease his temper.

"Perhaps," he admitted,"yet I couldn't see any other way to regain my honor. I had committed a sin, sullied my white cloak, tainted my honor… I thought that I could fix it all if I were to marry your sister…"

"And you expected to become King of the Seven Kingdoms in the process?"

"What? No, I suggested that your sister and I escape to the Free Cities where we could have married and live in peace…"

"Oh…" Jon understood. "That was very noble of you, Ser, but… uh… How do I put this…? Rhaenyra is Rhaenyra."

A statement that no one could possibly counter, not even Ser Criston who simply nodded in defeat.

"You are right, my Prince.I… You don't understand… Rhaenyra… She gave me everything I had ever dreamed about and even more. Yet… she pushed me into sullying everything I had, and for what? A moment of pleasure? She treated me like a whore and offered me no chance at redemption. That's all it took… She destroyed me… Had it not been for your mother, I would have killed myself."

"My mother?" Jon was surprised. "What did she do?"

Ser Criston actually smiled when he remembered that moment, the Queen had truly been his angel of mercy that night.

"She forgave me." He whispered. "She actually forgave me and convinced me to redeem myself. Queen Alicent… She…"

He sighed again.

"She is the one that showed me true virtue, her mercy broke the image I had of the Targaryens. And for a long time, my resentment for Rhaenyra kept growing, for I considered her to be spoilt and vile for what she did to me. Forgive me my prince, but your father's and uncle's behaviors did nothing but comfort my new opinion regarding Targaryens. That was until you started growing. Your hard work, your dedication to your studies, your determination to take care of your family despite your young age and each of their flaws… You have inspired me, my Prince. You and your mother. You've restored my faith in the future and gave me a new purpose. And for that, I thank you."

Jon was speechless when he heard those words. He did not feel like he had accomplished a lot, yet, to hear someone like Ser Criston Cole thank him for his dedication to his studies and his good behavior and to hear that he had inspired him into becoming better… Jonothor could not deny that he felt quite proud of himself. Even though he still had much to do and learn.

"So…" Ser Criston spoke again. "From my point of view, your brother will never be able to reach your level of skills given his mediocre behaviour of spoiled child. He needs to be disciplined and taught how to better himself, instead of solely focusing on you. But I fear your Father will never give him the proper discipline he needs, and your mother loves him too much to try something like that."

"Are you suggesting that I discipline him myself, Ser Criston?He would hate me even more."

"You are right, my Prince." The knight sighed. "I wish I could take care of it myself, but I can't despite Prince Aegon's best interest. Perhaps your Grandfather, Ser Otto Hightower, would fine the right method to discipline him should he come back to the capital."

Jon shook his head.

"That is not going to despises him and Father prevented him from coming to each of my name days or to meet his new grandchildren. Should Lyonel Strong resign his position in the future, then perhaps…"

Jon interrupted himself when he felt Ghost was looking for him, despite his initial surprise, he immediately communicated his location to his dragon and frowned at the unexpected arrival of his oldest friend. Usually, Ghost only left the dragon pit when its rider warged inside its mind or when he wanted to fly on his own to explore the Crownlands. Jon had ridden Ghost for the first time at the age of eight. Rhaenyra herself had insisted on taking her brother to fly for the first time. It had been a moment that Jonothor would cherish for the rest of his life, even though his 'unorthodox' way to fly on his dragon's back had impressed his sister. Jon had refused to use a whip despite Rhaenyra's and the DragonKeepers' recommandation. Never in his life would Jon ever whip Ghost, and why would he need to do so anyway? He and his mount were one and the same, he only needed a thought to tell his friend where to go. Their impressive performance during their first flight had pushed Rhaenyra and Syrax to show the hatchlings what the she dragons were capable of. And the lesson had ended up in a long race to Dragonstone won by the heir to the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra had then proceeded to show her little brother the ancestral fortress of their family, including the painted table of Aegon the Conqueror. Jon would never forget that day, and had truly been grateful to his big sister for sharing it with him.

However, never before had the White Dragon left the Dragonpit specifically to look for its rider. This particular circumstance was enough to make Jon suspicious that something was going on, and when he spotted his scaled-winged friend… he couldn't believe who he was seeing on its back.

Helaena had laughed and screamed in delight the whole flight, she encouraged Ghost to go faster but the Dragon was not hers to command. The fact that its tail was still wrapped around her waist should have made that clear, but Helaena was six years old, she was encouraging the beast, not commanding it, and as she was dragonless, she couldn't possibly understand what Dragons truly were… for now.

As Ghost started to descend she spotted the weirwood tree and a white cloak from afar, she squinted her eyes and finally identified the brother she had been looking for all day! She waved her hand to greet him but he did not greeted her back so she bit the inside of her cheek in a pout.

Once Ghost had landed in the garden, it took Helaena off its back using his tail and placed her in front of her brother. The Princess rushed to hug her older sibling as the latter suddenly felt very tired.

"Hi Jonothor! I told Ghost I was looking for you so he brought me here! What are you doing? Why are you hiding to train?"

"Helaena…" Jon sighed deeply while Ser Criston was hiding a chuckle behind his hand. "Where do you come from?"

"The Dragonpit."

"And where is Ser Willis?"

"In the Dragonpit? I think…"

Jon rolled his eyes as he patted his sister's head, he did not have the strength to ground her, their mother would have to do it herself.

Ser Criston shook his head in amusement as Ghost was now making itself comfortable to sleep in the garden, something Jon could not tolerate as he sent a mental message to his friend.

The White Dragon let out a cry in protest, and even had the audacity to demand something.

"You want a snack?" Jon repeated outloud what his dragon was thinking deep down. "Now?"

Ghost yawned in response and proceeded to go to sleep, Jon had no idea how to explain the utter nonsense that was happening to him.

"We should ask the kitchen girls to bring some chickens, my prince." Ser Criston advised, not letting his amusement shown. "And we should probably informed the Queen and the Lord Commander that the Princess evaded her escort. And we should tell Ser Willis that the Princess is all right."

"Do we have too?" Helaena mumbled, disappointed.

"Yes Helaena. We do." Jon said as he freed himself from her embrace. "Why were you looking for me anyway?"

The Princess shrugged her shoulders.

"I was bored." She said as if it was the most obvious thing in the World. "I wanted you to read me a story."

Jonothor's eyes popped out of their sockets.

"You went to the Dragonpit and rode back on Ghost just because you wanted a story?" He asked in disbelief.

Helaena was very confused by his behavior, had she done something wrong?

"Yes?" She replied hesitantly, unsure if it was the right answer or not.

Jon plunged his head in his palm to let out the longest tired sigh he had ever let out in both his lives while Ser Criston was struggling - and failing- not to laugh.

And Rhaenyra thought he used to be a terror.

Chapter Text

Aemond Targaryen was a little Prince full of goodwill. A great admirer of his brother Jonothor, he was as determined as he was meticulous despite his very young age. He had acquired the knowledge to read and write at the age of five, and practiced with the sword since he was strong enough to lift a wooden weapon. During his early childhood, he had followed his eldest brother wherever he went and as much as possible despite his short legs. Like many other noble little boys of his age, Aemond had heard the gossip and whispers of his father's Court, those concerning his brothers, had always been the ones that had caught his attention.

Since the age of three, Aemond had always preferred his brother Jonothor to his brother Aegon. Jon was caring and loving, he cared about Aemond and their sister, and he was always there when his second brother needed to be explained something he did not understand. Unlike Aegon, his second brother, who had always spoken coldly, as if simply talking to his younger brother was a chore he could do without. There was a contempt about him that Aemond couldn't bring himself to accept, yet he had tried to get along with his other brother, mostly because their mother had asked him to. But Aegon was selfish, and he considered Aemond's presence to be a nuisance. In the end, the only thing Aemond learned from Aegon was to appreciate Jonothor even more, and he made no secret of the admiration he had for his oldest brother. He admired him so much that he did everything in his power to look like him as much as possible; he ate the same food as him, wore the same clothes as him, spent as much time with their nephew, Jacaerys, as Jonothor had spent with him. -Even though, Rhaenyra did not trust Aemond the same way she trusted Jon to allow Aemond to remain alone with Jace.-

He tried so hard to be like Jon that the handmaidens and even his sister Rhaenyra had started calling him 'Smalljon', he was quite proud of that nickname. He also asked Ser Criston Cole to train him, but the Kingsguard was forced to decline his request. Aemond was still too young to follow the stormlander's training regimen. Therefore, the little prince had to resolve to have his uncle Gwayne as his first tutor, but his morale rose quickly when Jonothor himself came to give him swordsmanship lessons.

Jon loved Aemond like he had once loved Bran. The mischievous and willful character of his new little brother had considerably reassured him about the man he could become.

Aemond's desire to always do well was so pleasing to see, as if every effort made by the third son of Alicent was a reward to the first for each of his own. However… it was very difficult for Jonothor to ignore the images of his old life that resurfaced every time he taught his younger brother a lesson.

Shortly after he turned six, Aemond asked Jon to teach him archery, for Jon it was like reliving a painful memory.

It had been difficult for him to concentrate once in the yard, Aemond had been making the same mistakes that Bran had made. More than once, Jon had almost called his new brother by the name of the previous one. Oblivious to Jonothor's troubled mind, Aemond knocked another arrow and aimed at the target, only to miss and hit a barrel on the side. Aegon's mocking laugh resonated across the courtyard.

"Do tell, dear brother, were you a marksman at six?" Jon asked aloud, shutting his twin up and earning a glare from him. Ignoring Aegon, Jon went back to Aemond, who was snickering at their brother's expense. "Go on," the eldest encouraged. "Father is watching."

Both brothers looked above them to see Viserys looking at the courtyard from a balcony, the King had aged poorly those past few years, he had lost more hair, more weight and more fingers. Alicent was standing by his side, she gave her third born a smile as radient as encouraging.

"And Mother," Jon commented as he returned her smile. "Do not think too much Aemond, you don't need to take too much time know exactly where you want to put the arrow."

Aemond took a deep breath, relaxed his bow arm, aimed and loosed. His arrow did not manage to hit the bullseye, but at least he had hit the target this time, Jon ruffled his hair.

"Not bad, little brother." He complimented as Aemond felt his chest swell with pride. "But you still have nine more arrows to shoot."

Aemond had not become a six years old marksman that day, but he had made progress, and more importantly, he had made his brother and mother proud. It had been a very good day for him, less so for Aegon.

(-)(-)(-)

If Aegon hated Jon, he despised Aemond. Despite not being the 'prodigy' that their eldest brother was, Aemond still managed to get the praise that Aegon was not receiving! That little brother of his, who tried so hard to be the exact copy of Jonothor despite not being cursed with the same face as he, infuriated Aegon. The truth is that he would kill to exchange his place as Jonothor's twin with Aemond, he'd finally be free of this damn face and all the mockeries of the Court. He simply could not fathom why he had to endure the humiliation of being the lesser twin, while their brother was being spared and praised for being just as inferior, he had even been nicknamed 'Smalljon'. What a ridiculous name! How could Aemond pride himself with the fact that he was nothing more but a pale copy of Jonothor?! He disgusted Aegon, even more than Jonothor himself.

The same could be said about Heleana, the moment Aegon learned what a bitch was, he considered this to be the adequate name to call his sister. For she followed Jonothor everywhere he went like a damn puppy expecting to be pet. Aegon hated his life, he hated his family, he hated his father for being a fat, sick good for nothing. He hated Rhaenyra for being a pompous whore who shat bastards and got away with it. He hated Jonothor for being who he was, he hated his siblings for loving Jonothor and hating himself for looking like his twin and not being as good as said twin. Everything would have been easier had Aegon been just that good but no matter how hard he trained, how hard he studied, he never seemed to catch up to his older brother. And that was driving him insane.

Did it mean he gave up? No. Aegon was a dragon, his own mount, Sunfyre, seemed to push him into becoming the warrior that he was destined to become. And he would not surrender just yet, he would not be the lesser Targaryen, and one day, Jonothor would bite the dust under his feet, this he vowed.
And that was why, while his 'beloved' twin was busy wasting his time telling a story to their idiot sister Helaena and playing with their bastard nephew Jacaerys, Aegon was on his way to the training yard, where he knew no one was at this hour. Yet he grimaced in dismay and disgust when he realized that an exception had been made today by a certain someone he had no wish to see or talk to.

Aemond was beating a straw mannequin under the watchful eye of four boys his age and a Kingsguard, Aegon recognized the sigil sewed on the boys doublets; a Bracken, a Blackwood, a Darklyn and a Buckler. With a wooden sword in his hand, the thirdborn prince was mimicking the movements his eldest brother had taught him before he turned toward his spectators.

"It is not as complicated as it looks," he reassured with an encouraging smile, "all you have to do is aim right and keep your footwork light. You don't have to get it right on your first try, it took me days to do it , Stephen, show us what you can do."

Aemond passed the sword to the Buckler boy who presented himself in front of the straw mannequin, he tried mimicking his prince while letting out a pitiful battle cry in Aegon's ears. His movements were sloppy, and he almost tripped on himself trying to keep his footwork on the move. Aegon scoffed at this pitiful attempt, catching the attention of his younger brother who frowned.

"What do you want, Aegon?" Aemond almost spat, earning a glare from his older brother.

"Mind your tongue, Smalljon." Said older brother retorted. "The blood we share does not excuse a lack of manners."

Aemond swallowed his saliva, clearly upset.

"You still haven't told me what you wanted." He said, ignoring his brother's warning.

Aegon glared at him.

"I do not need to justify myself to you, you insolent wingless lizard. You should be on your way to Dragonstone to try to claim a dragon instead of wasting your time pretending to be Jonothor. At least you would put an end to the embarrassment you've brought to our family."

Aemond's face turned red as he felt shame and anger gnawing his very being. Three of the boys behind him were shocked to witness the feud between the two princes. Yet, one of them snickered, while Ser Erryk Cargyll frowned at the scene.

"Shut up!" Aemond barked furious. "I'll claim a dragon when I'll be strong enough to do so!"

"You can say 'never', brother, it is no curse word." Aegon quipped, clearly amused.

The six years old Prince gritted his teeth in anger, the fact that his egg hadn't hatched had always been his greatest failure in his eyes. Jonothor had reassured him, told him that their father's and uncle's eggs hadn't hatched either. The same thing could be said about their grandfather Baelon and granduncle Aemon, or even Laena Velaryon and her mother Rhaenys, even Helaena's egg had not hatched. But Jonothor, Aegon and Rhaenyra's egg had hatched, and when his brothers flew in the sky, Aemond was pinned to the ground like a mouse watching eagles on the horizon. He wanted a dragon, badly.

Visibly satisfied by his brother's lack on an answer, Aegon went to pick up a tourney blade, swung it to get used to its weight and approached his upset little brother.

"If you truly are a dragon, brother, then you will not pass up the opportunity to prove it. H'about a friendly spare between you and I? Just to see if there is any fire in that little body of yours."

Aemond mind was burning as he went to reach for a tourney blade with a blunt edge, but his wrist was grabbed by his Kingsguard.

"My apologies, Prince Aegon, but Prince Aemond is not ready to spare with a tourney blade."

Aegon laughed out loud while his brother's face contorted in anger.

"Well Ser Arryk…"

"I am Erryk, my Prince."

Aegon grimaced slightly, but kept going.

"Well, Ser Erryk, thank you for pointing out that my brother cruelly lacks fire."

"If I may, my Prince, you started using tourney blades at the age of seven, Prince Aemond is six."

A triumphant smile appeared on Aemond's face while Aegon was exhaling in frustration, disappointed but not discouraged, he casted away his tourney blade and picked up a wooden blade.

"Very well, we will spare with toys if we have to. I truly hope you won't disappoint, Aemond, for your sake."

Aemond clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as his purple eyes incinerated his older brother. He would have roared like a dragon had he not have Alicent Hightower as a mother. Instead, he put his temperament under control, held himself with dignity like his mother had taught him, and picked a brand new wooden weapon to swing with.

"Do hurry up, brother." Aegon yawned. "We dine with all the family tonight, and you're going to need time to look presentable after I am done with you."

Aemond did not answer him despite the fact his blood was boiling, instead, he remembered what his brother taught him about self-control and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Aegon would not have the last laugh, he was a dragon and he would prove it. They stood facing each other, Aemond looking focused while Aegon smirked.

Ser Erryk gave the signal to start and Aemond struck first. Aemond had great talent in swordsmanship, Jonothor, Ser Criston and Ser Erryk all agreed on that. But Aegon was a foot taller than his little brother and never neglected his training. He swept away Aemond's side attack with a backslash and immediately went on the attack. The little prince quickly retreated under the repeated assaults of his brother, the latter hitting so hard that the vibrations of the sword propagated into the bones of Aemond who felt the grip on his weapon weaken. Aegon amused himself for several minutes, making his younger brother dance, hitting in the openings he left him without putting an end to the duel, and forcing him to circle around the training ground while taking care not to pin him against a wall. When he finally had enough, he kicked him violently in the stomach which took his breath away.

Aemond fell to his knees, a hand pressed against his stomach, Aegon disarmed him with a violent blow of his sword which sent his brother's wooden weapon flying.

"Disappointing," he commented, "but predictable; you're wasting your time trying to imitate Jonothor, you should have focused on yourself instead of trying to be someone you're not, you fool."

Without warning, Aemond regurgitated the contents of his stomach onto the ground, Aegon took a step back to save his boots from a fetid shower, and laughed out loud when he was out of harm's way.

"Those were flames you were supposed to spit, little brother." he sneered. "Well, I guess it reveals your true nature."

Humiliated, Aemond gasped as he lifted his head to meet his elder's cruel gaze. He tried to get up, but the blows he had taken to his knees prevented him from doing so, so he resolved to use only words.

"You're only a shadow of Jonothor," he spat with a proud look, "that's your nature."

Aegon stood petrified by his little brother's words, before he roared in anger and brought down his wooden weapon on Aemond's head who collapsed on the ground. The Prince would have continued to strike had Ser Erryk not grabbed his wrist to end what had never been a duel in the first place.

Aemond did not hear what the knight and his brother were saying to each other, the only thing he felt was the pain in his stomach and on his head. Yet, despite his humiliation, he refused to stay down. So he planted both of his hands in the ground and slowly pushed himself up.

Aegon was appalled at the audacity of his little brother whose legs were wobbly and whose body was bruised. He rolled his eyes, turned on his heels and left the training ground while casually throwing his wooden sword away.

Aemond was breathless and dizzy, yet he was glad he hadn't backed down from his brother's cruelty. Ser Erryk took him in his arms, and took him to see the maester. However, the little prince grabbed the knight by the collar and whispered:

"Don't tell Jon what happened, please, Ser."

Ser Erryk sighed, just like his young prince, he himself had asked that his twin Arryk not be told about the beatings he took as a child. And Arryk himself had done the same after suffering from misadventures of his own. But being now a man, the knight knew that this kind of event should neither be silenced nor go unpunished. Erryk knew Prince Aemond would resent him if he betrayed his trust, so he resolved to promise not to tell Prince Jonothor himself. However, he considered telling someone much more capable than Prince Aegon's twin to solve this problem without further violence. But deep down, he knew the truth couldn't be hidden from Prince Jonothor forever. That child was too resourceful.

(-)(-)(-)

Alicent Hightower, Queen of Westeros, climbed four by four the steps of the staircase which led to the laboratory of the Grand Maester, when finally, she pushed the heavy wooden door which separated her from her child, she spotted the latter lying on a small bed and rushed to his bedside.

"All is well, Your Majesty." said Grand Maester Mellos. "I cleaned the wound, drained the edema and gave him a sleeping potion. He will feel much better tomorrow."

A sigh of relief escaped the lips of the Queen who wiped away a tear that was running down her cheek before kissing the forehead of her sleeping son.

Once she recovered from her emotions, she turned to Ser Erryk who was ready to face her ire.

"How could such a thing happen, Ser?"

Although she maintained a reasonable tone of voice and a dignified posture, Erryk saw that his Queen was holding herself back with all her strength from shouting to release the whirlwind of emotion that stormed within her. He tilted his head apologetically.

"Your Grace, Prince Aemond was injured in a duel that had opposed him to Prince Aegon. I only intervened when Prince Aegon proceeded to strike his brother while he was unarmed and defeated. However, although it was only one blow, it was one that should not have landed on the Prince's forehead. I am sorry Your Majesty."

Alicent exhaled as if to release the pressure from her lungs. Her second son had always been the one that had given her the most trouble. Despite the fact that she understood that Aegon was feeling humiliated for being considered the lesser twin between himself and Jonothor, he had crossed a line.

"Please, tell me that Jonothor knows nothing of what happened."

"He doesn't, as far as I know." Ser Erryk answered. "Although, four noble boys witnessed the spar between the Princes, I fear the gossip has already spread and Prince Jonothor will hear of it sooner or later."

Alicent closed her eyes and put her hands on her face to release her stress. She knew how her firstborn was overprotective of his siblings, if he were to learn that Aegon purposefully injured Aemond…

"Find Aegon and bring him to my chambers, Ser Erryk." She commanded once she had gotten a hold of herself. "Be quick, force him to follow you if you must. Two of my sons already fought today, I do not wish to see another one injured. I'll discipline Aegon myself while you will inform Ser Criston that he is to stay with Jonothor until he has calmed down. Do you understand?"

Ser Erryk nodded, he was as concerned as his Queen, though he was better at hiding it.

What neither the Queen nor the knight could have possibly known, was that Jonothor had taken a break after Jacaerys had gone to sleep after he had been done with the story of Gaemon the Glorious he had been reading. He had then proceeded to relax with his nephew on his knees, and warged inside a bird that had been passing by since Ghost was busy sleeping as well. After a few rounds around the Red Keep, he ended up noticing the sleeping form of Aemond through the Grand Maester's window, and landed near the edge to make sure. his brother was all right and to understand what in the name of the Old Gods had happened.

Once Ser Erryk was done with his tale, Jonothor Targaryen felt a fury that he hadn't felt since he had received word that Theon Greyjoy had sacked Winterfell and killed Bran and Rickon. His bird departed from the window and circled around the Red Keep until it had located Aegon who was laughing boasting while surrounded by four noble boys Aemond's age.

Jon went back to his body, gave his sleeping nephew to the nanny and exited the room like a predator hunting for its prey.

Chapter Text

Aegon felt good, Gods! He could not remember the last time he had felt such satisfaction! It was as if all of the trouble that had clouded his mind for the past four years had been whipped away, and he was now a new man with a clear head and the acknowledgment he deserved, as the hardworking Prince of House Targaryen he was! Right after he had defeated his sorry excuse for a brother, the four boys who had accompanied Aemond had forgotten about him and asked Aegon to teach them, something the Prince had been all too glad to accept. Now he was describing his routine to the Bracken, Blackwood, Darklyn and the Buckler boys who were watching him with stars in their eyes and a glint of envy. Aegon's chest swelled in pride as he boasted that he was mostly self-taught, contrary to his brothers, that his dragon was the most beautiful dragon who had ever been in Westeros, that he would one day honor his ancestor the Conqueror by descending from the skies upon his enemies and incinerate them like the dragon he was. Aegon felt good, he had never ever felt that good. His victory against the self proclaimed 'Smalljon' had washed away the stain he had been carrying on his heart. For once in his life, he was free of Jonothor's shadow, and a new kind of assertiveness had filled his veins, allowing him to breath fresh air for the very first time in years.

Aegon felt good, then a fist connected with his jaw, knocking him off his pedestal and sending him to the ground.

The second born son of King Viserys had to blink several times for his vision to stop being blurred, as he tried to figure out what had happened to him. He rolled on his back for his purple eyes to cross their exact replicates, however, the so called replicates were filled with a fury that Aegon lacked.

Jonothor Targaryen was towering his twin with all of the rage that only dragons could conjure, his teeth were clenched together, as were his fists. His frown was so deep it expressed an anger that no one had ever seen in the King's second child. Aegon remained paralyzed for a few seconds in order to recover from the shock that his brother's punch had caused him. The four boys that had been in awe with him seconds ago had taken several steps back in fear.

"You struck me…" Sunfyre's rider commented, still stunned.

"You absolute piece of shite." Jonothor whispered in fury, speaking with a northern accent for the first time in his second life without realizing it. "You attacked Aemond."

The mention of their little brother finally snapped Aegon out of his shocked state as he pulled himself back up with his tourney blade in hand.

"You struck me!" He screamed in anger, sounding accusatory.

But Jonothor was not listening to him, nor had he come here to talk, he pulled a tourney blade from a scabbard that had been leaning against a wooden pole, unclasped his cape, and charged his brother who had clearly not been expecting that kind of behavior from his twin as he clumsily parried his powerful attack.

Aegon took several steps back in order to put distance between his brother and himself. He was surprised when he realized that Jonothor had not unleashed a storm of strokes already, his twin had given him plenty of times to prepare, showing off his overconfidence. Aegon swore to himself that it would be his doom.

(-)(-)(-)

When Ser Erryk Cargyll heard some commotion coming from the training yard, he immediately realized that his Queen and him had been too late to stop the royal twins from clashing. He quickened his pace until he emerged outside, and saw the two princes facing each other with tourney swords in their hands.
Ser Erryk's duty as a knight demanded that he stopped this fight before it even started, but another part of him made him hesitate. The memory of Prince Aemond's state was fresh in his mind, and he knew that a bully could not be disciplined without violence. Something neither the Queen nor the King would consent to.

He then realized that Ser Criston Cole was standing on the side, looking at the Princes with his arms crossed. Ser Erryk frowned and went to him.

"Brother," he greeted, "why are you not stopping this?"

Ser Criston, who had dutifully followed his Prince since the latter had exited Prince Jacaerys' chambers, rose an eyebrow.

"Why are you not stopping this?" He retorted.
Being of the same mind, the two knights turned their attention back to the princes.

(-)(-)(-)

Aegon was breathing heavily, not because he was tired but because he was apprehending what was happening. His brother and him were finally about to fight, he was finally given the opportunity to prove his worth by defeating his insufferable twin. He felt his hand was shaking and his blood was boiling. He had been waiting for this moment for so long. He would not fail!

Jonothor had not decreased the intensity of his glare, but contrary to his twin, he was master of his body, for apart for his eyes, he did not show any sign of emotion, he was perfectly still.

A crowd of knights, handmaidens, squires and pages had formed around the twins, adding a bit of pressure on Aegon's shoulders and excitement in his veins. He charged first, as confident as if he was riding Balerion the Black Dread itself. But confidence would do him no good.
Jonothor did not even parry his blow, nor did raise his sword, he simply danced around Aegon to dodge his attacks. Which not only frustrated his brother, but also raised his panic as he kept turning himself to parry after a missed blow, only to find his twin looking down on him.

Aegon gritted his teeth and resumed his attack. He tried to push his brother against a wall to block his evasiveness, when it failed, he tried to unleash a barrage of attacks to force Jon out of his dodging tactic. But the former Lord Commander of the Night's watch kept dancing around his twin like he was playing some kind of childish game.

The two kingsguards rose their eyebrows at the perfect footwork their Prince was displaying. Surprise was evident on both their faces. Given Prince Jonothor's state of mind, they would have expected him to be guided by his emotions and to give into anger. But he remained perfectly calm and in full control of himself while moving like a legendary knight, this was more than just pure talent; he had experience.

Aegon started to get out of breath quickly enough as he kept missing his target, he was not stupid, he knew his brother was playing with him, humiliating him right after he had managed to acquire a bit of praise and glory for himself. Aegon would not let it happen, he would win.

He feinted an attack on his brother's left side, and jumped the last second to strike Jonothor's head as the latter had started to dodge.

The elder twin moved his sword for the first time, but instead of parrying, he took a step forward, and smashed Aegon's wrist while the latter was still in the air. A hideous creak echoed through the practice yard as Aegon's screamed and sprawled on the ground, dropping his tourney blade.

He blinked several times to realize what had happened to him, until the most horrible pain he had ever felt radiated down his forearm. He looked at his hand, saw that it was twisted and screamed in terror.

Jon did not care about his pain though, he grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back up. Aegon was horrified when he crossed his brother's furious glare.

"You attacked Aemond!" Jonothor repeated in a raging tone. "You struck our unarmed six year old brother, and for what?! Pride?! Satisfaction?! Answer me?!"

All Aegon did was spit in his brother's eye as he started fleeing in the corridors of the Red Keep, his brother wiped his face before he started running after him. Ser Criston and Ser Erryk rushed to put an end to this, but their armors prevented them from running, and the boys were both very motivated.

Aegon crossed the corridors at full speed, he bumped into a servant who was carrying a soup tureen, the content of which was spilled on the floor, forming a puddle that Jon jumped over. Aegon ignored those who called him or tried to greet him, he had only one thing in mind: to flee as far as possible from his brother. Arriving at a crossroads, he hesitated for a few seconds, unsure of his destination.
"Get back here!" Jonothor commanded, his arrival prompted Aegon to head for his room, where he could lock himself in and await the arrival of the Kingsguard. But as he had started to climb the stairs of Maegor's Holdfast, he received a blow from a tourney sword in the back which knocked him off balance. He would have fallen down the stairs had Jon not caught him, but the latter threw him directly down the stairs, where he crashed on his back. Jonothor then threw himself on his little brother, and began to beat him up.

"You absolute piece of filth!" He roared, blinded by the fury he had buried inside of him when news of Theon's betrayal had reached Castleblack. "You attacked our brother! Our blood! In the name of your pride! What the fuck is wrong with you, Aegon?! Why can't you see that I've done everything I could to help you?! I have only ever defended you! I've protected you! Taught you as much as I could! And how do you repay me?! You spat on my face and attacked our brother! You've insulted our sisters! Our nephew!"

He grabbed him by the collar, and lifted his face up to his.

"Why, Aegon?!What could you have possibly wished to accomplish?! What were you trying to prove?! Answer me?!"

Aegon hadn't understood half of his twin's questions and accusations, he could only feel the pain, the fear, and the blows he had received. His mouth was full of blood and his face was deeply bruised.

"P-please." He stuttered with his swollen and split lips. "Spare me…I'm sorry…"

Jon did not want to show him mercy, Jon wanted to beat him until his skull turned liquid. This rage, this pain, everything he had buried for so long had resurface, but that was not all. There was also frustration, due to his incapacity of bringing his brother to heel in order to prevent the dance, and of course, anger that Aemond had been injured because he admired his oldest brother.
" Jonothor…" Someone said from the top of the stairs, Jon turned his head from his wounded twin, and his eyes crossed Viserys'.

The King had not been alone when he had heard the commotion caused by the squabble between his two sons, he had had his two Kingsguards and his Hand at his side. All of them had witnessed the terrible beating Jonothor had given to Aegon, horrified and shocked expressions were drawn on all of their faces. But Viserys, though he had been shocked by his son's behavior, had listened to his words. And as Jonothor released Aegon from his grasp and bowed his head in shame to prepare for his punishment, Viserys was thoughtful.

(-)(-)(-)

Sitting in his solar, the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms had joined his hands under his chin after he had had his fair share of wine, and recalled the events of the day.

Being the King was hard enough, it easily came with enough duties to fill his schedule most of his days, leaving him with nothing but wine and the comforting touch of his wife to enjoy his life. But what had happened today had forced him to take measures to stem the bleeding within Court. An infighting within the House of the Dragon was more than enough cause to alarm the entire Realm. Every lord feared that one day, a dragon would fight another dragon and burn their lands in their struggle, like Maegor the Cruel had fought his nephew Aegon the Uncrowned. Viserys doubted it had already escalated this far, and after he had gotten the full story from his Kingsguards, he now understood that it had simply been a matter of jealousy and overprotectiveness between brothers. Something very common in many families, nothing that would have worried anyone had the boys not been dragon riders.

But the boys were Princes, the blood of the Dragon, they could not act like everyone else. Aegon got away without a punishment, both his parents had agreed that he had been punished enough for striking Aemond. Jonothor, on the other hand, would not get away that easily.

The violence he had shown toward his brother had deeply concerned the Small Council, Jonothor had always been perfect, perfectly calm, perfectly polite, perfectly aware of his surroundings and of the consequences of his actions. Perhaps the boy had tried too hard, perhaps Aegon's actions had been the last straw for Jonothor to finally snap. Yet, no matter his reasons everyone had insisted for Jonothor to be punished, everyone except Rhaenyra, who had strongly defended her brother, Alicent, who had wanted to settle this matter in private, and surprisingly enough, Viserys himself. The truth was that the King was hesitant, he did not wish to punish Jonothor for one mistake in nine years of proper behavior. But there was another reason, a personal reason that was holding Viserys' hand. What Jon had done, what he had said to Aegon, those words had resonated inside the patriarch's skull.

"You attacked our brother! Our blood! In the name of your pride! What the fuck is wrong with you, Aegon?! Why can't you see that I've done everything I could to help you?! I have only ever defended you! I've protected you! Taught you as much as I could! And how do you repay me?!"
Those words… Viserys remembered telling Daemon something similar when his own brother had called his son 'the heir of a day'. Viserys had always loved his brother and probably always would. But Gods! How many times had he wanted to bring him to heel and punish him for his actions the same way Jonothor had punished Aegon? Daemon had always been the warrior between the two, Viserys had never truly performed in the training yard, and he was dragonless since Balerion's death; he never have and never would see a battlefield. He had let Daemon handle warfare, and that was what his brother had used to justify all of his actions and defy him. Viserys was King by rights, but had Daemon rose in rebellion, he wouldn't have been unable to stop him by himself. He would have had to rely on the loyalty of the Sea Snake, his cousin Rhaenys and possibly their children. What a great King he would have looked like had this happened.
Viserys had no other way to restrain Daemon's fantasies but his royal command, and Daemon had ignored it more than once.

Had Viserys been able to discipline Daemon the same way Jonothor had disciplined Aegon, then Viserys' authority over his brother would have been natural and not out of duty. Daemon would have been reined, his instincts and fantasies limited by Viserys' strength. Viserys had always dreamed of being able to do what his son had done, and for that, he was hesitant to punish him.

Maybe that was not exactly true, Jonothor needed to be punished, Alicent had informed him that Aegon felt like Jonothor was being favored over him. Letting Jonothor go unpunished would be a mistake that would nurture Aegon's resentment. It was the harshness of the punishment that stayed Viserys' hand.

What could he do? What kind of punishment would be fitting yet not too harsh not to discourage Jonothor from protecting his blood?

Viserys had no idea, for this whole episode made him realize he had never punished one of his children before. And even if he had, none of his children had ever done something as serious as that.

Viserys considered fostering Jonothor, it would be a fair punishment, Jonothor would be banned from Kingslanding for a short period and serve as the squire of a great lord, but both Rhaenyra and Alicent would oppose him. Viserys grimaced at the thought of his daughter and wife challenging his decision, it would be a poor image to show the Realm after the division that had started to take place between his twins.

So no fostering, for now at least. What were his other options? Cleaning the stables? Far too humiliating in Viserys' taste, his son was the blood of the Dragon, no Targaryen should ever stood that low.

Making him a squire was not harsh enough, and Viserys knew most of his kingsguard held Jonothor in high esteem, it would not work.

So what could he do? He could not send him away, nor could he give him an ungrateful task. Should he let Alicent decide his fate? No, his Queen loved their firstborn far too much. She would be unable to find the right punishment.

Viserys considered sending him to Dragonstone, yes, perhaps it would do. Helping the Dragon keepers of Dragonstone handling the Dragon eggs and potential baby dragons before they turned wild would be a job unworthy of a Prince but fit for a Valyrian. Rhaenyra could fly there to see him, and Alicent would take care of Aegon, helping him realize that no one is favored. Perhaps Lord Corlys and his wife Rhaenys could teach him a thing or two? Rhaenyra and Laenor could introduce him, and he'd benefit from Lord Corlys' teaching, yes, it would do. That way, Jonothor would be punished but would still receive a proper education. While Aegon would be taken care of here in the Red Keep.

Viserys smiled, happy with himself. The matter was settled, he would be able to rest easy tonight. He just hoped his Queen and Rhaenyra would understand that this punishment is necessary, he did not have the energy to endure both their ire.

Chapter Text

Chapter X : The Sea Snake and the Queen who never was

Corlys Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark, was looking at the young Targaryen Prince who had arrived on Dragonstone a few weeks ago with a critical eye. Since his son had married Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Sea Snake had known that the succession of his good daughter would be challenged, by none other than this boy, who was wearing the same rags the dragon keepers wore and carrying the fresh clutch Meleys had brought in a cave near High Tide. Jonothor Targaryen had often been on Corlys' mind since Laenor's marriage. All the compliments the boy had received, all the propaganda Otto Hightower had made from Oldtown while his grandson was growing, had not fallen on deaf ears. The Lord of Driftmark had kept a close eye on the prince, wondering if he would turn greedier like Maegor had turned eighty years ago. At first, Corlys had thought that tales about the boy were exaggerated, for Otto was not above amplifying rumors when it served him. But his contacts in King's Landing had assured him that the Prince was what people said he was: a prodigy. The Sea Snake's blood had turned cold when he had learned this. Rhaenyra's position was frail enough despite Jacaerys' birth, the fact that the King's firstborn son was already being compared to Jaehaerys or Aegon the Conqueror would weaken her claim even further. Yet, the boy's behavior had interpellated the Lord of Driftmark. Jonothor was said to be good, honorable and loving. The fact that he had insisted on being on his sister's side while she was giving birth and was taking time to read to his nephew was proof enough. There was a chance that the boy was a vile and cunning liar, but Corlys doubted that a boy of nine could be as vile as discreet. Actions mattered more than words and Jonothor Targaryen, who had been sent here for defending a brother and attacking another, was proving his worth in the eyes of Lord Velaryon with each passing day. Corlys had started his career as a sailor as a humble member of his uncle's crew. "A man's worth is earned through sweat and blood." His father, Corwyn, had taught him decades ago, Corlys had never forgotten those words. The Sea Snake had a hard time fathoming how a man such as Otto Hightower could have a grandson like Jonothor, but again, it was hard enough to imagine a man as legendary as Jaehaerys the Wise to have been sired by Aenys the Weak.

Corlys thought about the letter Rhaenyra had sent him, asking him to take care of her brother for her, promising he was a good boy that deserved the best. Originally, the Lord of Driftmark had felt insulted by her request, now, he started to wonder if the bond between sister and brother was strong enough to survive the Game of Thrones. In any case, Corlys considered him to be interesting and hardworking enough to teach him. Wether Jonothor would end up being an enemy or an ally was irrelevant at the moment for he was still a boy, and monsters were not born, they were made.

The Sea Snake had spent days observing him, in order to see his talent, intelligence and humility for himself. Today, as Jonothor was listening to the words of the Dragon Keepers and bowing his head in respect, Corlys had made his decision moments before his wife had come to join him at the window of his solar, where he had been observing the Prince.
"What do you make of this boy?" Rhaenys asked.

Her tone had remained neutral, she had always been good at hiding how she truly felt.

"He seems to be a good lad, humble, yet better than the other boys his age. Maegor was said to be cruel at the youngest age, I have seen no cruelty in this boy's did you see?"

"Melancholy." She said, her eyes on her nephew. "This is very strange; I do not think I have ever seen a child this age with such a look."

Corlys stroke his beard with interest.

"Rhaenyra and his mother are very protective of him. How could two sides of a conflict be fond of the same person?"

Rhaenys rolled her eyes, her husband perceived life as a competition. He often thought too much.
"I believe the answer is quite simple: the boy loves his entire family and has jumped in the middle of their battlefield, trying to prevent bloodshed. He is trying to extinguish the embers of war before it turns into an inferno. And to do that, he tries to carry the hatred of his mother and sister on his shoulders."

"That is preposterous, my love. How could a child that age be so aware of his family's affairs?"

"I do not know, Corlys, do you honestly believe that there is another explanation? Look at him, dutiful, humble, yet a prodigy in every way. This boy is not like the others; a usurper is not humble."

"You are right." Her husband nodded as Jon was sent to fish in order to feed Meleys and Ghost. "He is a dragon though, otherwise the King would not have sent him on this island."

Rhaenys nodded.

"He will bring Fire and Blood to those who harm his loved ones, even if they are his blood."

"But what if some of his loved ones were to harm each other?" Corlys asked with interest."Who would he chose to side with?"

The Queen who never was close her eyes in resignation.

"Against the one that attacked first, if he is half as honorable as his white cloak believes him to be."

Corlys snorted in dismay. Ser Criston Cole had followed his Prince to Dragonstone, then to Driftmark. The Kingsguard had been seen in the courtyard teaching Jonothor and defeating the most fearsome knights of House Velaryon. The Sea Snake had seen the arrogance in the Stormlander's eyes, who had been wise enough to keep his foul mouth shut. He only bragged about his Prince, though, with a moderate tone.

Speaking of Ser Criston, Corlys saw him following his Prince to the boat that would soon depart, he had taken his armor off and seemed to be enjoying himself as he ruffled the boy's hair, earning a smile and a punch.

"Any news from Daemon and Laena?" He asked as they disappeared in the stairs.

Rhaenys sighed. If there was one man she wished her daughter had never married, it would have been Daemon. But after the sheer torture Laena had suffered during her ten years long betrothal with Belo of Braavos, she was done listening to her parents.

"Laena's pregnancy is stable, according to the healers in Pentos, she is expecting twins."

Her husband marveled at the news.

"Good, Daemon would rather die than pick Hightower's side. After they are born, they should return here, to High Tide."

Rhaenys agreed, she missed her only daughter dearly, she only feared her cousin's reaction if he and Jonothor were to meet on their lands… The boy was his nephew, but Daemon's ambition was well known.

"What are you going to do with Jonothor?" She asked her husband.

"I will teach him." He said as his smile grew larger. " I would find nothing more pleasant than to take Otto's prodigy from under his nose."

"Corlys…"

"I know, my love, I know." He chuckled. "Had I been younger, I would have planned a new voyage just to test him. But I cannot leave our house for so long." He turned to smile at her. "What about you? Will you teach him?"

Rhaenys shook her head, she was not exactly fond of this boy, but to prevent internal struggle within her house, perhaps it would be for the best if she were to spend some time with him. No one can teach a Targaryen better than another.

" I will consider it." She said, and the conversation was over.
(-)(-)(-)

Humiliated, Aegon had been humiliated, broken, destroyed, Jonothor had taken everything away from him, what little he had left him since they were born, and everything he had earned by himself through the years.

The Maester had told him that his wrist would heal, but feared he would never be as good with a sword as he had become. Aegon had felt his heart being squeezed when he heard that, Jon had made sure he would always be the better twin, he had broken him. Aegon had cried himself to sleep many times after hearing the diagnosis. His wrist had tortured him, preventing him from finding comfort in his dreams. Only the milk of the poppy could soothe the nightmare that had become his life. His mother had visited him, probably to try to atone for favoring Jonothor over him. He had sent her away, screaming like a wounded boar, he thought he had seen her cry but he had not cared.

Neither Helaena nor their father had visited him, which had not been surprising, but Aemond, freaking Aemond had shown himself, with his bruised face and crooked smile. He had had a stick in his hand, and, without uttering a single word, had taken advantage of the fact that the milk of the poppy had flogged his mind to attack him from a distance. Aegon waved his hand to defend himself, but he was so weak he could not have fended off a fly, let alone his dreadful six-year-old brother. Aemond had tortured him for almost ten minutes until a kingsguard had walked in to take him to their father, where he would barely be reprimanded.

Aegon hated them all, his useless father, his hypocrite of a mother, his stupid sister, his pest of a little brother, and his abominable twin. He would have his revenge on them all, that he vowed.

(-)(-)(-)

As strange as it sounded, Jonothor ended up liking his exile away from King's Landing and the viper's nest that was the Red Keep. Waking up early, wearing simple clothes, eating a modest meal, taking care of the Dragons, fishing, training and reading. This was a simple life, a relaxing life. Not without worries though, Jon still feared what would happen in the capital without him to watch over his entire family. Ser Harwin Strong was dead, yet Rhaenyra had still given birth to a bastard and could keep spreading her legs if loneliness clung to her. He needed to find a way to prevent her from making another mistake. Jace could pass as some kind of albino should he be surrounded by valyrian siblings. Or perhaps… Perhaps his looks could be buried behind the overprotective shadow of his entire family. Something like this would take years of service to Jon, but he was willing to do it if it prevented a Dance.

When Ser Criston and he came back from their little fishing trip, their nets were filled with all kinds of fish and a satisfied smile had appeared on both their sweating faces. The prince could tell that his sworn shield was as fond of this new life as he was, the luxury of the Court was marvelous the first day, but stifling when it surrounded your daily life. Both kingsguard and Prince despised laziness.

"Do you believe the Red Queen will be satisfied with your gift, my prince?" The Stormlander laughed.

"I certainly hope so, efforts do not matter to a hungry dragon if its stomach is not filled."

"Then I pray to the seven that she will not find you tastier."

"You should pray to the Seven that she never finds out what I taste like."

"My mistake." He chuckled.

They docked on nightfall and transported their cargo to the nearest carts, yet they stopped once they spotted the Queen who never was, standing in the light of the torches that lit alongside the stairs. She looked like a ghost in the twilight.

"Princess." Ser Criston and Jon bowed.

The Dragon Keepers did the same.

"Jonothor, I wish to speak with you privately."

She turned and started climbing the stairs, Jon sighed, nodded an apology to Ser Criston and hurried to catch up to her.

"What can I do for you, dear aunt?"

"How is your High-Valyrian?"

"As good as its always been, I am not out of practice thanks to the Dragon Keepers."

"Good. Tell me, how are things at Court?"

Jonothor rose an eyebrow.

"That is not what you really want to ask, is it? You probably have more than enough spies to know more than I do about court business."

Rhaenys stopped and looked at him sternly, Jon held her gaze.

"You are rather blunt."

"I do not like to beat around the bush." He genuinely answered. "I do not mean to be rude, I simply detest the way court members speak and had hoped that I would not find it away from King's Landing."

Rhaenys sighed.
"I fear you will be sorely disappointed, for everyone speaks like this in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Not in the North." He thought. "Can't we speak plainly when we are alone and family?"

The Queen who never was, stared at him with a suspicious glare, she wondered if this boy had an idea in the back of his head or if his request was genuine. In both cases however, it would be ridiculous to not speak plainly.

"Very well nephew, I will humor you; how is our family doing?"

"All of them?"

"All of them."

Jon considered hiding some details for a moment but chose against it.

"Well… Father is… sicker everyday, the Maester considered taking his left arm off but takes the time to measure his decision."

Rhaenys grimaced at the thought, Viserys was the Fifth Targaryen King, far from being the best, he was the only one who had not fought a war during his rule. The Gods had been harsh on him.

"Rhaenyra is lonely." Jon had expected a reaction from his aunt but she remained impassive, so he struck harder. "She spends her time taking care of Jacaerys and helping Father and Lord Lyonel rule. She stopped trying to look for Laenor after Jace's birth. My brother-in-law being too busy drinking with squires and young knights."

Perhaps he should have thought twice before taunting the rider of the Red Queen, for her glare sent shivers down his spine.
"Laenor seems happy, though." He added and Rhaenys shook her head in disappointment.

"You believe yourself smarter than you actually are, boy."

"I told no lies, I simply hoped that you would be able to reason your son into acting more like the consort my sister needs rather than the boy he refuses to let go off."

Rhaenys looked at him for a moment, as if he had suddenly gained a decade in age, then she snorted in dismay.

"You boys stop listening to your mothers the day you start being decent with a sword, or in our family's case, the day you ride your dragon for the first time."

"That is not true."

"Is it not? So you are saying that your mother told you to attack your twin?"

Jonothor froze the moment he heard her sardonic answer, and finally understood what she meant. He lowered his head, feeling stupid.

"You're right." He conceded. "I am sorry."

Rhaenys put a hand on his shoulder, yet her glare remained stern.

"I have witnessed your unusual talent for a child your age and I admit your potential. But, you would do well to remember the difference between intelligence and discernment. You still have much to learn and you will make mistakes your whole life, accept that fact before you start thinking you are smarter than everyone else."

"You know nothing, Jon Snow."

"I am sorry."

"Good, now since you love being blunt so much, let us not waste anymore time; how are your mother and siblings doing?"

Jon took a second to collect his thoughts and swallow the bitter taste in his mouth before answering:

"My mother is the greatest mother I could have asked for." He could have sworn Rhaenys had smirked but kept going. "However, she is trying too hard to raise us all, and… And Father does not care about her being, he keeps abusing her whenever he feels like it, I will probably have another sibling soon… if Father is strong and cruel enough to take advantage of Mother."

Rhaenys took a moment to answer.

"One day, you could be married to a woman who wants nothing to do with you, what would you do if that happened?"

Jon gritted his teeth, his aunt had taken control of this conversation and he had no idea how to get it back.

"Take the black."

Rhaenys actually laughed at that.

"You would abandon your family because you refuse to take a girl's maidenhead?"

"I would rather abandon them than live as a rapist among them." Jon spat in disgust.

His aunt only chuckled this time.

"You are a fool, Jonothor Targaryen. Marriages are politics, if you do not wish to bed your wife then don't, pretend one of you is sterile and keep on living. The Wall has no use for a Prince, while a family as complicated and powerful as ours would always need a gentle son to rein them in should they be too tempted by the path of Fire and Blood."

Jon was actually surprised to hear this. It appeared that the Queen who never was feared the Dance as much as he did. Her intentions seemed clearer now.

"Are you talking about Aegon?"

"Who else? Words of your twin's jealousy have reached my ears, your grandfather has probably heard of it as well. Do you know what the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms say about you two?"

"No."

"Most of them are calling you the King who should be." She seemed pleased to see the appalled look on her nephew's face. "Others are saying that you waste your talent defending a whore, the 'whore' being Rhaenyra. No one is blind to my so called 'grandson's' parentage, and you certainly are not."

Jon froze, he felt his breath grow louder as his blood turned colder. Was that truly what Lords and knights were saying? Did he have even less time than he thought?

"I have no wish to be King!" He screamed for all the Dragons to hear him."I will never usurp my sister!"

"That does not mean she and her bastard are safe from those who wants to see you on the Iron Throne."

Jonothor Targaryen felt his blood boil and his temper rage, Ghost's roar could be heard from the other side of the mountains, Rhaenys smirked as her nephew grew angrier. She seized his chin and turned his head in her direction.
" What do you want?" Jon asked in a breath as her lilac eyes pierced his purple ones.

"I want your sister to stop dishonoring my son," she said, "I do not care who sits on the Iron Throne, I have stopped caring a long time ago. What matters to me are my children, and if Rhaenyra cannot find it in herself to do her duty, then you will have to prepare yourself to be called 'Your Grace' for the rest of your days."

Her words echoed inside Jon's head like a thunderbolt in the night. This did not make any sense! Rhaenyra had sired three bastards in an other past, and they all carried the name Velaryon until their death. The Queen who never was had even fought and died for the Blacks.

But Rhaenys' thoughts on the matter had never been written down, and perhaps she saw on opportunity in Jonothor that she never had in her other life.

That thought alone was enough to awaken the Dragon that had been sleeping inside the Prince since his twin's beating. He violently backhanded his aunt's grip, and glared at her while she was looking aghast.

"Pray that I never sit on that damn chair." He spat. "Or I will impale your good-for-nothing of a son and roast him for the crows and the rats to feast on. And if you wish to make sure that never happens, dear aunt, then you'd better strangle me while I am still young."

Rhaenys took a step backwards, wondering what kind of abomination she had in front of her, who would dare utter such horrible threats on her Lord husband's domain?

"No? want trueborn grandchildren? I will find a way to give them to you. But if something were to happen to my sister or my nephew, then you will find, how far I am willing to go to protect my family. Even from itself."

Rhaenys' slap did not hurt him half as much as she would have wanted to hurt him. Jon felt his dragon blood arouse his excitement as he smiled at his aunt.
"Was that all, dear aunt?" He asked with a casual tone. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to make sure your pitiful son does something useful for once in his life, even though he is not worth the trouble his mother is going through."

With his piece said, and his blood on the verge of eruption, Jonothor Targaryen, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms and descendant of Aegon the Conqueror, climbed up the stairs under the fearful eye of his aunt. Who wondered if she had not made a terrible mistake.

Once Jon was safe in the room Lord Corlys had provided for him in High tide, he splashed as much water as he could on his face to cool his blood, and tried as hard as he could, to rein his temper in.
He grabbed each corner of his piece of furniture, and while his breath was heavier than an ox's, glared at the mirror, at the face of this Prince of House Targaryen whose fire incinerated every inch of his skin. He had forgotten Jon Snow's face, the dragon that slept in his guts was slowly devouring him from the inside, feeding on his anger and his terror.

"Something is happening to me." He whispered as his hands were shaking in fright.

For it was fear that was controlling him right at this moment, he felt nothing else, nothing but the dread of loosing this new family he had acquired right after loosing the previous one. Jon was terrified, by the Lords, by the Gods, by the Dragons and the Others, but above all, he was terrified of himself.

One mistake could take everything away from him, and he felt he had done far more than one.
He had no way out of this.

AN: Now, some people might be wondering what on Earth has Rhaenys been up to with Jon. Personally, I have always found it weird that neither her nor Corlys ever questioned the legitimacy of Rhaenyra's children. Corlys is willing to have a bastard who is not of his blood inherit his ancestral home, his name and fortune, I am sorry… but WTF?! In the show, Rhaenys is acting a bit more 'normally' in my opinion. She tries to raise Laena's daughters (her trueborn granddaughters) into capable ladies that would marry the Strong bastards and secure their blood back where both Corlys and her had wanted it; on the throne and in High tide. As a grandmother, she ignores Rhaenyra's children and even warns her husband about the boys' bastardy… In this chapter, she is well aware of Jon's influence in this family of theirs and after exposing some of his most foolish believes, she gains the upper hand into convincing him to find a way to prevent Rhaenyra from siring more bastards. (and gain actual grandchildren for once.) But she had not expected Jon to show a more draconic side of him. Yes, something is wrong with Jon, he is terrified and it is slowly gnawing his bones. Who knows what will happen to him? ;)

Chapter Text

Chapter XI - A Disgusting Duty

The day her father had named her his heir, Rhaenyra Targaryen had also been awarded the title of Princess of Dragonstone, a title that was more symbolic than anything else, as the Targaryen heirs had always remained at their King's side to learn how to rule, rather than actually take care of the ancestral seat of house Targaryen and the lands that surrounded it. That task had often fell on the castellan's shoulders over the past century, and Rhaenyra had not broken this tradition, she deliberately chose to stay at her father's side to help him in his rule, and to prevent anyone from whispering poison into Viserys' ear.

But it was not rare for her to travel on Syrax's back to her domain, in order to take a break from all this political turmoil, as she was travelling on that day. And since Jacaerys' first nameday she had taken him with her so he could familiarize himself with their ancestral home. Her Grandmother, Alyssa Targaryen, first rider of Meleys the Red Queen, had taken Viserys to the sky with her shortly after she had given birth to him. Rhaenyra, who had been terrified of motherhood since she had seen her mother Aemma inflated and emptied in a bloody manner until the Stranger took her, found that there was no greater feeling than the pride and joy of being a mother. Her darling little boy was everything she could have asked for, her heart had never beaten so happily since she had birthed him. Rhaenyra would for ever be grateful to Jonothor for his presence and support during the hardest trial of her life, with Harwin gone, she knew she could have never done it without him. Which is why, when her father had declared that Jonothor was to be sent to Dragonstone, she had thrown one of the biggest tantrum one had witnessed behind the walls of the Red Keep. Punishing Jon for protecting his brother from his wretched twin! How could anyone blame him for that?! Had Aegon attacked Jace instead of Aemond, Rhaenyra would have demanded his hand as compensation! Jace was three, he was all smiles and giggles, he rarely cried as Helaena had done during her infancy. To think that a wretched creature like Aegon would touch him made her dragon blood boil. She protested and fought tooth and nail for her father to reconsider his decision, and surprisingly enough, Alicent had protested as well, though, not as fiercely as her. It had been a long time since her former friend and her had agreed on something, but they were both on Jonothor's side and would defend him fiercely as he would do for both of them. Unfortunately, their alliance had been as short as unsuccessful, for Viserys had remained unbent.

Now, Jonothor was here somewhere between Dragonstone and Driftmark, and she had come to visit him, for she and Jace had missed him in the past three moons. Rhaenyra first landed on Dragonstone. There, the castellan informed her that her brother and Ser Criston Cole had left for High tide weeks ago and had not yet come back. Disappointed but not discouraged, she entrusted her child -who had been too tired to kept on flying- to the handmaidens, and had left for the island of Driftmarck. As she flew around the island, she considered landing near High Tide, after all she had not visited her family in law since her wedding. But she feared their reaction should they question her about Jace's looks, for she was not ready for this conversation without having some kind of support at her side. She kept on circling the island while thinking, until a white creature emerged from the clouds, startling Syrax who roared in protest. Rhaenyra smiled when she saw that Ghost had its ridder on his back, and took its sudden appearance for what it was: a challenge. The Heir to the Throne and her yellow mount flew in pursuit of those who had mocked them. Their dance lasted for hours, as they playfully chased and raced each other in the sky and the clouds, Rhaenyra had not participated in such games since Daemon had been banished from King's Landing. She found the joy and fun it brought her quite refreshing.

However, Syrax got tired after the trip from the capital and the hours of playtime spent with Ghost, so her rider consented into putting an end to their fun and landed on a green cliff where the white dragon came to join them. Rhaenyra frowned when she noticed the rags her brother was wearing and the dirt on his face and in his hair, yet, it did not prevent her from giving her beloved sibling a hug.

"Seven Hells, you look like a dragon keeper." She said as she ruffled his dirty hair.
"And you feel like you have lost weight." He replied without letting her go.

Rhaenyra hit his shoulder.
"Surely I could not have been that fat!"

"I never said you were, I'm just saying you're thiner now."

She rolled her eyes, her brother and his clever answers…

"I had hoped Father's punishment wouldn't have humiliated you too much." She said as she ruffled his dirty hair with her gloved hand. "I'm sorry Jon, for not doing more…"

"I'd rather not talk about Father, if you do not mind." He answered, his tone neutral. "And for a punishment, I find it quite enjoyable. I had grown tired of King's landing and all its schemers and lickspittles, Dragonstone is far more relaxing. Things could have gotten better at Driftmark though."

"What do you mean?" The Princess asked, concerned.

"I'll tell you later." Jon said after a moment of hesitation, he then smiled at Syrax while Ghost had started stretching his wings for a quick nap. After petting the yellow dragon for a few moments, he frowned, and went to inspect her belly. What he found earned another frown from him and he shook his head as he sighed.

"Rhaenyra, you haven't ridden her often, have you?"

The Princess tilted her head in confusion.

"Not recently, no, why? And how can you tell?"

Jon hesitated once more, he felt like he should choose his next words VERY carefully, Dragons were not as stupid as other animals.

"She looks like she grew larger than taller." He ended up saying before cursing himself.

Syrax immediately roared at his face, making him stumble backwards.

"Lykiri Syrax!" Rhaenyra screamed as she put her hand on her mount's snout to calm her down. "Lykiri!"

The yellow dragon snorted as her mistress kept petting her to calm her fury while Jonothor was getting back up, the Prince could swear he'd heard Ghost laugh at his lack of tact.

Rhaenyra looked at him as if he was the dumbest boy she had ever come across.

"For all your cleverness, I would have thought you'd have learned by now that this is now way to speak to a lady." She chastised him as he grimaced.

"I'm sorry." He said sincerely. "I had no idea how to properly say what I was thinking."

Rhaenyra snorted in amusement, and ruffled his hair one more time.

"Here's an advice from your beloved big sister; sometimes, you have to keep your thoughts for yourself."

"You're right." Jon admitted as he slightly backed away from Syrax who was still eyeing him furiously.

Rhaenyra chuckled, she loved it when Jonothor acted like a child his age, she found it refreshing.

"Now walk with me." She said as she grabbed his hand. "I have not seen you in three moons, surely you have tales to share."

And Jon told her of his numerous tasks between Dragonstone and Driftmark, of his many hardships with the Dragon keepers and his relationships with the dragons and the common people, who often saw him fish and confused him with a dragon seed. He even told her of the incident with the wild dragon known as Grey Ghost. Indeed, Grey Ghost had tried to steal the catch of the Dragon Keepers after a hard day of fishing. That day, they had fished in Dragonstone's waters, near the island where Vermithor and Silverwing had made their lairs in the Dragonmout among other wild Dragons. However, in order to prevent the dragons of the late King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne from attacking the local villages and farms, the Dragon Keepers of Dragonstone had decided to deliver them as many meals as they could. Most of the time, they brought bulls, cows, goats and sheep that had been provided by the castellan of the Targaryen seat. But since Jon had been sent here as punishment and had to work, they had chosen to fish that day. And should their catch not be sufficient to satisfy a dragon of their sizes, then they would have added goats to the meal. Fortunately, today's catch had been more than enough for Vermithor, the bigger of the two. Only two bulls would be sacrificed today to feed Silverwing.

But as they had started to go back to Dragonstone, Grey Ghost had appeared from the sky and had roasted the fish and the net. A Dragon keeper had had his arm burned, and had hurried to extinguish the flame in a barrel of water while the wild dragon, who was only a year old, had started feasting on its loot. Ser Criston had unsheathed his sword, but had to duck behind a large wooden box after the young dragon had spat its grey flames at him. No one had noticed that Jon's eyes had turned milky white -a detail he did not share with his sister-, and as Grey Ghost was feasting, he did not notice the dragon six times its size that descended upon it to catch its tail between his jaws and took it into the sky with him as it shrieked in panic. Ghost was not grey, Ghost was as white and as quiet as he had been as a direwolf, no one saw him coming as he had snatched the wild dragon from its meal and thrown it into the sea. Dragons were good swimmers, but Grey Ghost had been so terrified that it had roughly splashed away from its predator who had roared to motivate it.

Rhaenyra had been horrified by the tale, she was relieved to know that it was only Grey Ghost that had attacked them, it could have been much worse.

"What about your lessons with the Sea Snake?" She asked. "Has Lord Corlys taught you anything of value?"

Jon's face turned somber, not because of the lack of knowledge he had learned from the Lord of Driftmark, for he was an excellent teacher, but because of his conversation with the Princess Rhaenys.

He had suspected that the Queen Who Never Was had not shared the content of their conversation with her husband, otherwise, Lord Corlys would have been far less kind than he'd been during his lessons. But her words still haunted him, and he was reluctant to share them with his sister. Rhaenyra was emotional, he could not anticipate her reaction no matter how well he knew her.

"Lord Corlys is… surprisingly interested in my education. Even though his lessons are limited by our respective duties. I have yet to uncover what he truly wants of me."

His sister rolled her eyes.
"King's Landing has made you paranoid." She sighed. "What makes you think he is expecting something from you?"

"Everyone expects something of me." Jon answered with a sigh of his own. "The Princess Rhaenys…"

He stopped… He thought he had been ready to bring up that topic, but as he pronounced those words, he realized now he had been sorely mistaken. The anxiety and the shame he was feeling had paralyzed his body and tongue. He thought of Jace and his heart sank. He feared he would awake Rhaenyra's inner dragon.

His sister looked worried, she kneeled before him and gently grabbed his shoulders.

"Jonothor, what happened?"

Her voice was soft yet filled with concern, Jon bitterly realized that she was concerned about him, while the real targets were Jacaerys and her.

He thought hard and fast. Should he tell her the truth? Should he tell her that he knows Jace is a bastard? His own guilt and terror suddenly grasped his heart and started squeezing it. He had killed his nephew's father, he had killed his sister's lover, and despite the fact that he had never regretted that murder, he still regretted inflicting so much pain upon his sister, and preventing Jace from knowing his father. But he also remembered the day Rhaenyra had rejected him and had slapped him. If he were to tell her that he knew her only child was a bastard… Would she start seeing him as a threat once again? He did not want the throne, but a single sparkle could light an inferno. He did not want her to despise him again.

"Jonothor?" Rhaenyra called as she gently shook him. "Please talk to me, you do not have to hide anything from me."

"But I do." He bitterly thought as he prevented his tears from flowing. "I cannot tell you what I have done, what I think… I… I can't even tell you my real name…"

"The Princess Rhaenys…" He bit his tongue for his cowardice. "The Princess has told me that Jace does not look Velaryon enough…"

Rhaenyra's color turned white in a blink, her eyes wide in fear. Jonothor hated himself.

"She wants the… your next children to look more Valyrian. She tried to scare me… telling me that as things stood, I would be chosen as your heir because Jace was not valyrian enough, and she knows I am no usurper and I don't want the throne."

His sister did not answer, she looked mortified, her hands were shaking and sweat was pearling on her forehead.
Jon wanted to vomit, for what he was putting her through, but also because his words were turning into ash in his mouth.
"Nyra…" He spoke like an ignorant child. "I… I tried to tell her that Laenor was a bad husband… But she did not listen… I am sorry…"

She pulled him into a hug and held him close, when he returned it, he felt as he was stabbing her in the back.

Jon felt her breath going erratic as she tightened her grip, while the face of Lady Catelyn Stark appeared right in front of his, with her deep blue eyes and hard cold mouth. He felt a shiver of dread down his spine as her stare hardened. She was looking at him, the way she was looking at him in Winterfell whenever he had bested Robb at swords, or sums, or most anything.

"Who are you?" Her voice resonated in his head. "This is not your place, you do not belong here!"

"SHUT UP! YOU'RE DEAD! OR NOT EVEN BORN YET! I DON'T KNOW! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"I'm sorry Jon." Rhaenyra said, pulling him out of his nightmare. "You should have never been caught up into this. I am so… sorry…"

"I should be the one apologizing… I am a nine-year-old boy, and my resources as well as my words are limited. I can only trick you into taking the right path, I am sorry."

"Rhaenys said… that you need the seed more than the staff…"

Rhaenyra froze, she stopped breathing, her eyes were wide though Jon could not see them. The Prince's guts tightened so much so that he almost vomited in self-disgust.

She released him slowly, her head lowered and her eyes sad. It was a moment before the heir to the Iron Throne tilted his chin up, and wiped away the tears he hadn't realized he had shed.

"I'll sort this out." She whispered to him. "Don't worry, Jon, everything will be fine."

(-)(-)(-)

Rhaenyra's stay at Dragonstone and Driftmarck was less pleasant than she had expected, given the conversation she had shared with her little brother on the first day. But they were everything she had hoped for and more. Jonothor had been delighted to find Jacaerys on Dragonstone, and the three-year-old had been overjoyed to see his favorite uncle again. Rhaenyra smiled as she remembered the stories Jon had read to her son, old legends about the great warriors of the Age of Heroes. That of Symeon Star-Eyes was the little prince's favorite. Of course, their presence did not prevent Jon from carrying out his punishment. Alicent's eldest son took Jace to visit the nursery to observe the fifteen dragon eggs that were being cared for there.

Jacaerys had been fascinated by the eggs, he had asked his uncle if he could bring his own egg so that Jon could teach him how to care for it, and Jon had accepted with a smile. Rhaenyra felt a pang in her heart as she had watched her brother teach her son how to clean his egg.

She was not oblivious to the rumors that had spread across Court. Those that questioned Laenor's paternity, and that doubted that his egg would ever hatch given the questionable purity of Jace's blood. The crack that startled mother, uncle and nephew brought her the greatest relief she had ever felt since the birth of her son. The little dragon that had emerged from the egg had olive green scales and pale orange wing membranes. Rhaenyra had rushed to the boys' side to witness his birth more closely.

Jacaerys had cried with joy when he discovered the creature that would be his mount. The latter climbed onto his shoulder and let out its first cry. He rushed into Jonothor's arms and thanked him wholeheartedly. After which, he had proudly showed off the little dragon to his mother who had warmly congratulated him and tenderly kissed him while she had cried tears of relief.

She had also warmly thanked Jonothor for the support he had given Jace, but he had replied that he had done nothing special. Typical coming from him, gifted but far too modest. Their goodbyes had been difficult, because the Princess was reluctant to leave him here when their family needed him. But she was not Queen yet, and her word was therefore, not law. Jacaerys had chuckled all the way back, because Vermax, his dragon, had slipped under his doublet to avoid being blown away by the wind. Rhaenyra, for her part, had remembered the conversation she had with Jon about Princess Rhaenys' request. And without warning, she had began to boil with anger.

She understood very well what had caused the Lady of the Tides to demand grandchildren of her blood. But using Jonothor to achieve her ends... Rhaenyra could not tolerate that.

However, she knew she was in a weak position. Her alliance with the Velaryons was too important for her to continue to neglect it. She and her husband were going to have a talk.

On her way back from the Dragonpit, she crossed paths with Alicent, who had apparently been waiting for her to get news of her son. But Jace had been quick to declare when he saw her:

"I have a dragon! Jon helped me hatch my egg!"

The Queen's eyes widened in surprise upon hearing the child, then she shook her head and smiled.

"He truly is the best of us."

Some people could have thought that she had been insulting or mocking her former friend by saying these words. But the regretful tone with which she had spoken had convinced Rhaenyra that she wished their entire family was worthy of him.

"He is." The princess nodded. "He's doing very well, a little time away from the Red Keep is relaxing for him."

"Good, thank you Princess."

And she left, without saying another word.

Rhaenyra had not held it against her. Their interactions had been like this for years. She had gone to entrust Jacearys to her nurses, and had returned to her apartments, where she had ordered Ser Steffon Darklyn to bring her husband to her, wherever he was.

Laenor arrived hours later, drunk and in an excellent mood, barging into his wife's bedroom like a virgin in heat in a brothel. Rhaenyra, who was reading a book while enjoying a glass of wine, would quickly cool it down.

"My beloved wife!" Laenor greeted mockingly, raising a bottle of wine. "How was your trip to Dragonstone?"

"Your mother used my brother to pressure me into telling you to do your duty." She replied dryly.

Laenor froze in place and lowered his arm, sighing.

"I'm sorry about this, Rhaenyra, I really am." He said in a low voice, he took a swig of wine. "But I won't return to your bed. Maybe I can find you a bastard of my family. The Gods only know how many my Uncle Vaemond has sired in his youth..."

"I don't need you, Laenor." She responded as she stood up. "I just need your seed."

Once again, Laenor froze in place. Took a moment to process the information, and widened his eyes in relief.

"How...?" He raised a trembling finger towards his wife's crotch. "How do you intend to…"

"It's none of your business!" She growled angrily. "All you have to do is fill a vial with your seed, I'll take care of the rest myself."

Laenor raised a hand in defense.

"Fine, fine…" He grumbled in surrender before scratching his chin. "A child..." He muttered to himself. "I'm going to have a child..."

He raised his head to meet his wife's fiery gaze.

"If it's a boy, we'll name him Joffrey."

"Do not even think about it." She replied, adamantly. "I'm the one who's going to put him in my womb, carry him for nine moons and give birth to him. All you're going to do is empty your balls into a vial. If it's a boy, he will be Lord of the Tides. Your father will not want an heir who bears your former lover's name."

Laenor crossed his arms with a sulky face, he looked like a child who had been denied a puppy.

"Fair enough, but the next one will be called Joffrey."

"The next one?! Focus on making this one before thinking of the next one!"

Laenor, who was still deep in his cups, clenched his head in despair.

"Not so loud! Please! Just give me the damn vial, I'll fill it up and bring it back to you in the morning."

"You will bring it back to me tonight, I'm not japing, Laenor"

He rolled his eyes.
"Fine…"

Rhaenyra fumed at him, but she gave him the vial nonetheless.

"Well…" Laenor stated with an exaggerated bow. "I'm off to do my duty!"

The princess wanted to insult him in return, but he ran away like a cat. He kept his word nonetheless, and returned later with the vial filled up with semen. He and Qarl seemed to have had a great time.

Once alone in her room, Rhaenyra looked at the vial with disgust, cursed Rhaenys, and took off her dress.

When Harwin had put Jace in her stomach, their night had been warm, passionate and filled with pleasure. All Rhaenyra felt as she lay on her bed, spreading her legs and pouring Laenor's seed into her crotch, was deep self-disgust.

She didn't feel like a Queen, but like a mare who was forcibly impregnated with the semen of the best stallion in the stable.

AN : I had a HORRIBLE IDEA that I ended up abandoning, in which Laenor gives Rhaenyra the semen of his lover, Ser Qarl Correy, instead of his own as revenge for not being allowed to name his son Joffrey. Or because he is too drunk and the idiots filled the vial together, XD.
Unfortunately, this would have interfered with a very important event in the future, so I tossed it away. So, yes, Rhaenyra will not give birth to more bastards.
Vermax is not described in the books, his description comes from the show.
In the books, both Rhaenyra and Syrax grew fat over the years, in the show, Syrax does not grow at all between episode 1 and 10. Maybe jon's presence will change something, or not. :)

In the books, I believe Vermax was born before Jace's third nameday, but I really liked the idea that Vermax was born while Jon and Jace were having a moment under Rhaenyra's eye. As his mother's only bastard son, Jace's relationship with Jon is going to be very important in the future. I'm not sure which story I'll update next, it'll come quickly anyway.

Hope you guys liked it ;).