Chapter VII
Jon ran to the grassy cliffs of Dragonstone as the castle erupted in commotion. The Unsullied left no stone unturned.
"Drogon!" Jon yelled into the sky, the howling wind drowning out his cries. "Drogon!" The tears were inevitable now, pouring in salty streams as all he could see was Daenerys' crestfallen face and the bedstone, soaking up her blood, stains on his hands and garments. Jon fell on all fours and retched, unable to accept it.
For a second, a blanket of darkness enclosed him, making Dragonstone and the sea and winds feel so far away. Then he felt the hot breath on his back. Jon carefully stood up, wolf furs sliding against an armor of scales on Drogon's breast. He reared slowly, reaching his hand out for Drogon to smell him, like he had done at Castle Black.
There must be three.
"You know what I have to do," Jon murmured into Drogon's eye as the dragon rumbled in agreement. Jon hoisted himself on Drogon's elbow and climbed upward to the base of his neck. Once he held tight, Drogon sprinted off the cliff, his wings catching their fall as they flew off into the night.
Jon never really cared for King's Landing (or whatever it was now) as it was the embodiment of everything that had been taken away from him. He often thought about what would have happened if Robert Baratheon just let Lyanna go, if he would have been raised in Dorne, or eventually King's Landing. It wouldn't have been him in succession, it would have been his father, Rhaegar Targaryen. He would have spent a winter with his cousins, hunting in the North, and summer frolicking in Dorne, because the Seven Kingdoms were his. He would have had been raised by his fierce-spirited mother and well-tempered father, and probably more dragon-wolf siblings. He would have been close with Daenerys, for they were the same age, and he could have protected her from everyone who would come to harm her. Jon was sure that even in those perfect circumstances, they most definitely would have fallen in love.
But because of Robert's lust, entire families were wiped out in the span of three decades. The Tyrells, the Lannisters, the Starks, the Baratheons. The list went on and on. He always thought being a bastard was a curse from the gods but Daenerys definitely had it worse. She had no home, no parents, no friends, just that silver-blonde hair to remind her who she was and what she could have been. Her virginity had been sold, the only family she did have was cursed by black magic, and when she finally did reach Westeros, she risked it all for a Throne their ancestors had promised. Catelyn Stark may have been a cold bitch to him, but at least he had a family and a home. Daenerys did not.
Drogon let Jon onto the wall closest to the Godswood in the gardens. The dragon snatched the nearest soldier who had barely opened his mouth to scream as Jon swiftly ran through the path, slaying all in his way. He paused at the Oak Tree covered with vines and dragon's breath when he saw the King beneath its shadow.
"I thought I'd find you here," Bran said. Jon sheathed Longclaw.
"You're not really Bran, are you?" He called to him as he approached. Wolves suddenly appeared, stalking Jon and circling him. Jon halted.
"The Bran Stark you once knew has passed," the Three-Eyed Raven admitted. Jon bared his teeth at him.
"Why did you do this? What do you hope to get out of this?" Jon asked him through gritted teeth. Bran eyed Jon's bloodstained hands and gave him a slow sadistic smile.
"Why, everything, Jon Snow," he answered. "Too long have the Starks left me to rot in the North, too long have I watched conquerors and dictators play God."
"You played God, too," Jon said evenly. "When you made the Night King and his White Walkers. What you've done to the North, you have to answer for your crimes. What you've done to Bran-"
"I am a God," the Three-Eyed Raven said, the surrounding wolves drawing in tighter. "I am the past, present, and future. I can bend anyone to my will. Except for now you Targaryens, you and your damned Red God." Jon could feel the wolves snapping at his coat, hairs rising on his neck.
"You understand what I must do now, Jon Snow," the shell of Bran said, "for I cannot have disobedience in my kingdom. Now that you know the truth."
"My name is not Jon Snow," Jon said, relinquishing Longclaw, the wolves barking ferociously now. "I am Aegon of the House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. And I sentence you to die."
Before Jon could even bound out of the wolf trap and toward Bran, a tremendous flame engulfed the Godswood, Bran's eyes alight at the wolves dancing and shrieking in the fire. Jon fell to his stomach, the soles of his boots and his cloak crisping into ashes in the wind. He could smell his hair burning as he curled into a ball, hoping Drogon would see him in the flames. Drogon then collected Jon, who was sweltering but could feel no burns, and escaped into the air. As Jon held on to Drogon's ankle, he briefly saw the remains of what was once Bran in the skeleton of the wheelchair, a heap of burning wolves surrounding him, and the Oak Tree's branches ablaze. His revenge felt sweet and Drogon gave a satisfied whinny, as the bells from King's Landing rang and rang until he could no longer hear them.
Daenerys sat on her throne, a disheveled mess, braids undone, the crimson and black kimono on her body askew. The Lords and Ladies of Westeros gasped and fell to their knees, bowing to their Queen.
"How can this be?" Prince Owen cried out.
"You were dead, I saw you, I saw you!" Lady Cassandre whispered harshly.
"The Lord of Light has willed Queen Daenerys to rule the Seven Kingdoms," Kinvara announced to the hysterical court. "The Lord blesses all of his believers. You too will now revel in the Lord's Grace."
The great doors burst open from behind them as Jon Snow staggered in, face covered in soot and clothing in tatters, anchoring a barely alive Daario Naharis. Daario's left leg and arm had been burned off. The world paused as he saw Daenerys.
"Gods be good," he whispered. And she stepped down from the throne and crossed the court to Jon.
"Someone get Daario, now!" Grey Worm called out as the soldiers caught Daario and whisked him away to the infirmary.
She looked like an angel as she floated across the room to where he stood. He didn't care that his clothes dared to fall off, that everyone was looking at them. She was there and she was his and nothing could stop them now.
Daenerys halted before Jon as he bent to his knees in awe.
"My Queen," he said to the hem of her silks.
"Where were you?" She asked.
"I killed the King," he said, eyes never leaving the floor. Daenerys eyes widened as everyone else elicited their own reaction. She signaled for him to rise.
"There will be war," Jon announced. "But no longer will this country be ruled by pretenders. Like my grandfather and the fathers before him, Westeros will heed us as the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms." He reached for Daenerys hand as he drew her to his side. "We will take back the North, we will take back what was stolen from us."
The Council Room in Raven's Landing was pure chaos.
"Was it Daenerys?" Bronn asked.
"No," Tyrion said, plopping down, and pouring himself a very full glass of wine. "It was Jon Snow."
"Fuck!" The room groaned as Sam lowered his eyes, unable to look at anyone.
"I knew this was coming, I should have killed Jon Snow when I had the chance," Tyrion said. Sam glanced at Tyrion in horror. Was he about to say what he thought he was going to say?
"What do you mean?" Brienne said into her hands.
"I was sworn to secrecy and I watched my best friend burn because I told him," Tyrion began. "But what does it matter now? Cats out of the bag. The King is dead.
"Jon is not Ned Stark's bastard son. He's the sister's son, of Lyanna Stark, who was married to Rhaegar Targaryen." Everyone's jaw dropped open as the realization settled.
"So you're telling me, he's the heir to the Seven Kingdoms?" Bronn yelled in disbelief. "Fuck me. And he's screwing with the recently alive Mother of Dragons, who also wants to be Queen? Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I thought sending him to the Wall would be enough punishment since Daenerys was gone," Tyrion said. "He's going to come after me next. I convinced him to kill her." Tyrion tried to look at each of their faces but they avoided his gaze.
"Where's Davos?" He asked.
The room sat in stunned silence, unsure what to do next.
"I expect Queen Sansa will be marching down with her troops," Brienne anticipated. "We can also call the bannermen from the West and the Eyrie. We wiped out a good portion of her ships last night, too."
"My only question is, why is Jon just now deciding to act on his birthright and not then?" Sam asked.
"You imagine being brought back from the dead, you'd think you had a purpose. Then the both of them!" Bronn retorted.
"There will be war and it will be bloody," Tyrion stated amongst the shouting voices. "But no matter what, we must avenge the King and defend the Throne."
