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Jon Snow
"It's not working."
Standing in the courtyard that was usually used for training Jon could feel the heat from the fire in his face burning just a few feet away from him. It as dying down, the flames growing smaller as the sun set behind it.
Hours it had burned, turning wood and the three goats to ash. The servants had continued to stoke the fire, adding wood when the pyre dwindled. The three goats had long died. Their bones gone, and blood boiled. Yet, still, not s single sign that the dragon eggs would hatch.
"Jaehaerys, dragons haven't been seen in the world in centuries." Illyrio looked nervous. His beady eyes darting between Jon and the fire.
"Bring me a knife," Jon ordered inadvertently confirming Illyrio's worries.
"The Targaryen madness." The merchant bit his tongue. He wouldn't give the order and lose his chance at all the riches in Westeros. "Jae-"
"A Knife." Jon held his hand out.
Fire and Blood. The words of House Targaryen. He had hoped animal blood would be enough, a life for a life. But maybe to hatch a dragon there needed to be Targaryen blood in the mix.
He couldn't see who handed it to him but the hilt of a dagger landed in his hands and he gripped it walking forward not taking his eyes of the fire. To those around him, he probably looked just as they imagined a Targaryen. Crazed as he tried hatch dragons egg.
It wasn't a look he wanted to have but he could see why they would think he was insane. Walking towards a fire, knife in hand hoping to bring back beasts that no one had seen in centuries.
"They don't know what I know." Pressing the knife's blade to his free hand's palm digging into his flesh and drawing blood. The only person in the world who had seen dragons was him. Knew they still existed and how, or mostly how to hatch them.
"Jaehaerys," Illyrio warned drawing back as Jon stuck his hand over the dwindling fire.
Blood dripped from Jon's hand through the fire landing on Drogon's egg. Moving around the fire he did the same to Viserion and Rhaegal's egg as well add his blood to the fire.
As his blood boiled on the eggs Jon stepped back. He waited with baited breath. This was his last hope to hatch dragons. One second passed...two...three...four...
...Drogon's egg cracked. Louder than Jon expected and he stepped back as the single crack spread until the once beautiful egg was covered in a spiderweb of deformities.
Whispers broke out around him but Jon paid them no heed. Viserion and Rhaegal's egg's started to crack as well. He had done it. The dragons, they were hatching.
From inside the fire, three screeches echoed out. Illyrio and the servants flinched but Jon moved forward. After hearing the powerful voices of full-grown dragons the small sounds coming from the fire did not scare him. They made him smile while others cowered.
Rhaegar Targaryen
Sitting on his bed in the hottest chambers Lord Stark had available, Rhaegar had been adamant that no one would be booted from their home for his comfort. King or not. Still, as warm as Lyanna's old chambers were thanks to the hot springs Winterfell had been built over he was still dressed in a thick long sleeve nightshirt and pants. He was of the south and even the warmest room in the Stark's castle was freezing to him.
"You would be warmer if you lie down." A hand fell on his shoulder dragging him backward until his back was against the furs and his head on a feather-filled pillow.
Lyanna, his second wife, and the woman he considered the love of his life draped her body over his blanketing him with a warmth the fire in the hearth couldn't provide.
"Something is disturbing you." She said setting her head on his chest.
She knew him too well.
"Will you tell me?"
A small smile broke the sullen look Rhaegar was famous for. It had been happening more and more since Lyanna had run away with him. Some days it felt like he smiled more than he frowned. Lyanna would never know how much she meant to him. Even as King of Westeros there was nothing he could say or gift to her that would come close.
"Is it Dorne?"
"No, it's not Dorne," Rhaegar answered the question swiftly.
Lyanna while wild, having the 'wolfs blood' as her father called it was a caring woman first and foremost. Despite her love for him, she had been reluctant to marry.
"What of Elia?" She had asked when he proposed.
Their love was strong but Lyanna did not want to hurt his first wife and mother of his first two children.
"Our first fight." Running a hand through her brown hair his smile grew as he recalled the argument of how they would handle Elia. What a strange woman he married. She had the Seven Kingdoms being offered to her on a silver platter and she was worried about the woman who was married to the man she loved.
"Then what is keeping you up? We leave for Kings Landing on the morrow, you need to sleep."
"A Raven from Kings Landing arrive today. Eddard delivered it personally." Rhaegar had to force the words from his mouth reluctant to drag Lyanna into his family's mess.
They were married, yes, but that did not mean she had to suffer for the follies of his ancestors.
"And what did it say?" Lyanna sat up on one elbow looking down at Rhaegar her grey eyes captivating him as they did every time he saw her. "Rhaegar?"
"The Blackfyre in Pentos. Varys says the boy has hatched dragons. Three of them."
"When?"
Rhaegar sighed as a weight settled on his chest. and not the soft pressure of Lyanna but the suffocating pressure of being King. "Not long. The dragons are still hatchlings, still small."
"Still killable." Lyanna corrected not letting him get away with trying to ease the truth. "Is Varys still pushing for the boy's death?"
"Yes, and now he may be right to do so." Rhaegar glanced away from his wife's eyes and pretended to watch the flames dancing in the hearth. He was a good man, Lyanna always told him, a better man than his father was.
Now he could see why people would say such things. It was easy to be a good man when you weren't King. When the decisions you made didn't affect the entire realm.
"Are you going to send someone to Essos?"
"I don't know, Lyanna. I don't know."
Jon Snow II
"Your grace...I...uh."
Sitting on the throne Illyrio had put in the feasting hall, Jon sat uncomfortably on the seat of gold and the most expensive clothes in Essos dyed black and red. The colors of his family's House. Stretching two feet above his had he sat directly underneath a three-headed dragon made of rubies. The chair itself was comfortable but he was not. He was never meant to sit on a throne, never wanted to. Not the Iron Throne, the Starks throne in Winterfell, nor a throne in Essos.
And yet he had found himself on both before his 'death'. And now he was on the third throne. Not made of furs or swords but exotic jewels and gold mined by slaves.
He hated it. Hated Essos, and the day he left for the Wall couldn't come soon enough. As well as the day he took Illyrio's head.
The man was a schemer, like Varys and Petyr Baelish. Jon didn't trust men like that. They were always the ones who would smile as you passed then stick a knife in your back once behind you. Men such as that were more dangerous than any swordsman. Snakes hiding in the grass, out of sight until it was too late.
"Uh...I,"
"Speak up," Jon ordered, tired of the stuttering merchant wasting his time.
If the man hadn't been a right bastard he would have waited, but the merchant nearly the size of Illyrio, the only difference between the two merchants was the man's dark hair was as bad as Illyrio. Worse actually.
He looked to the side of the hall where three serving stood silently. Even with their heads bowed he could see their bruised eyes. The youngest couldn't have been but ten and four.
"And she had to put up with this piece of human filth." He glared at the merchant and at his feet Drogon, the biggest of his three dragons roared. Well, it was more of a squawk really but it frightened the abuser who jumped.
Jon pushed his foot out nudging the small dragon quiet. Anymore from him and the hall would stink of filth from filth.
It was strange seeing a grown man cower when confronted by a dragon. He had seen it a hundred times before. Even been the one cowering the first time he saw them on Dragonstone. But that was when they were grown. Large and capable of destroying armies. Now?
Now they were barely bigger than a cat. Still dangerous but hardly a threat to anything to other than hair and fingers.
"I deny any accusations against me, my lord." The merchant announced gaining some semblance of courage. "I would never strike my servants. I hold them very dear to me. Treat them as my own family I do. To have them bring such shame to me with these falsehoods. It hurts worse than any sword ever could."
"Gods.' Resisting the urge rub his forehead Jon motioned a hand towards the servants.
"Each of them has told the same story. You caught the youngest with your son who is the same age. Then beat her as you screamed at your son for dishonoring his family by not laying with a servant but loving one."
"Lies!"
"Lord Micaio, the word of a highly respected merchant against the word of servants usually end in the merchant's favor," Jon said and the merchant smiled. "But, you've been a right bastard your entire life. Or so your son says."
"My son?"
Jon nodded as four guards stormed into the room surrounding the merchant. "Your son's testimony gives credit to their story. You will face justice for your crimes. Take him to the cells."
"Wait! Wait! Illyrio, you can't do this."
Behind Jon's throne, Illyrio watched impassively as another of his partners was drug away to await his execution. Three merchants that had helped rule the trade in Pentos were now gone. Leaving him to rule it alone. There money in his coffers and their ships his to command as their daughters and sons fucked and drank away their family fortune.
Jaehareys new code of honor instead of a curse had been a blessing. He was losing rivals and gaining money faster than he ever had.
The only problem left with the boy was the fact he had made no moves to plan his invasion of Westeros.
"Illyrio," Jon said standing from his throne freezing a moment to let, Drogon and Viserion join Rhaegal on his shoulders.
As his dragons settled he walked down the five steps that kept his throne above the rest of the room and headed for the door leading to the garden. "Walk with me."
His dragons following at his heels Jon stepped out onto the balcony looking out at the Narrow Sea. His family was out there. Targaryen and Stark living better lives than they had before. Or at least he hoped they were. The death of Aerys Targaryen should have kept Roberts Rebellion from happening. He hadn't been able to stop Brandon Starks death but Rickard, his mother's father was alive. And so were the tens of thousands that would have died in the rebellion.
They were all saved because he had ordered the death of the Mad King. Something he couldn't bring himself to regret but he wasn't happy about it either.
"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword." Yet here he was. A thousand leagues away sitting in a castle. Eating expensive foods and wearing expensive silks.
He hadn't killed the king honorably in battle. Or executed him for his crimes. He killed the Mad King with words and poison.
"Your throne is out there, Jaehaerys. Waiting for you to claim it." Illyrio stood beside him gazing out at the sea. "Rhaegar is said to be a soft ruler. Nothing like his father. The war for the Iron Throne should be quick and decisive."
"No, it won't be. I won't be setting foot in Westeros for years, but the war starts now."
Illyrio bowed one hand folded across his massive gut and the other hanging in the air. "I will gather the brightest minds in Essos and we can begin planning, my lord."
"I already have a plan," Jon smirked as Illyrio startled. "Aegon conquered the Seven Kingdoms from Dragonstone."
"And you will do the same." Illyrio guaranteed. "I have friends in the other cities. Thousands of boats and men will be at your command. The island will not stand against your assault."
"I'm not going to sail for Dragonstone." Jon snapped glaring at the merchant whose bloated face displayed his confusion. "This war won't be quick or decisive even with my dragons. We will need food for my army. Land for farmers to grow that food and a castle for us to retreat to and regroup should we be defeated in battle. Dragonstone is too close to Kings Landing and won't be able to supply enough food to keep my army alive."
"What is your plan, my lord?" Illyrio asked with genuine curiosity. It seemed he had been wrong in his assumption that Jaehaerys had no drive to conquer the Seven Kingdoms.
Jon turned his head staring towards the North. "We invade from the North. Take the Wall, rebuild the Nineteen castles along it and farm the gift. The Night's Watch doesn't number past a thousand. We will take the Commanders of, Castle Black, the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch-by-the-sea alive before giving the others a chance to surrender. Which they will. Most of them will be criminals who took the black to avoid life in a cell, losing a hand or execution. They won't risk their lives for a Kingdom that sentenced them to the end of the world."
Staring as Jon finished his speech Illyrio bowed again a wide true smile on his face. "That is an excellent plan, my lord."
Rhaegar Targaryen
"A Kingsguard serves for life. The boy swore an oath, he can not return to Casterly Rock, your grace."
"I understand that Ser Arthur, but we will need the military might of the Westerlands in the years to come." Rhaegar set the letter from Casterly Rock down on the table in front of him.
He had expected Tywin to send a Raven sooner. Days after his father's death actually. But it never came. Weeks, the months passed and nothing. He hadn't forgotten the old Lion, no, Tywin was too dangerous a man to be forgotten.
"Tywin must have heard of the dragons."
The Warden of the West saw his moment and he was seizing it. The lion knew the crown would need his army and gold if Jaehaerys invaded Westeros. And the price for that army and gold was an heir to Casterly Rock. His son Jaime Lannister.
"And a sworn member of my Kingsguard." Rhaegar sighed bringing a hand up to rub his nose. Releasing Jaime from his oath was wrong. Cruel even given the boy hadn't asked to leave.
"Do you think he will accept?" He asked the men gathered in the tent.
His Kingsguard. Minus one of course.
Lyanna had requested to go riding, enjoy the last of the Northern air before they reached the Neck and headed south. Jaime had been tasked with her safety while she was away from camp.
Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander and known as the White Bull. Prince Lewyn Martell. Ser Barristan 'the bold' Selmy. Ser Gwayne Gaunt. Ser Oswell Whent. Ser Jonothor Darry. Ser Harlan Grandison.
And Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Deadliest of the Kingsguard. And most opposed to releasing Jaime from his vows.
"You are the King, your grace," Ser Gerold said from his left. "We are here to protect you, not judge you."
"Yes, but I am not asking your opinion as your King but as your friend."
"We are your friends, your grace. But as Ser Gerold said you are the King. You must do not what is best for you, us, or Jaime. The realm must always come first so long as you reign."
"He's right." Rhaegar closed his eyes leaning back in his chair. Ser Barristan speech wasn't just his opinion of how the King should act. It was his rebuttal for his actions with Lyanna.
The two of them nearly caused a war. Yes, his father's madness did little to help but it was the 'kidnapping' of Lyanna that caused her brother Brandon to ride for Kings landing and be murdered.
Rhaegar was sure if Rickard Stark had made it to the capital before Aerys died, or was murdered by Jaehaerys his father would have killed him as well.
"Ser Harlan, please go wait at the front of the camp. When the Queen and Ser Jaime return, bring him here." The King let out a breath as Ser Arthur stirred but remained quiet.
"He's going home."
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Sami217: Yes there will be a large time skip. Two actually. The first is right now! Thanks for reviewing!