ARTHUR

(collaborative chapter)

The Lord Commander looked thoughtfully across the dinner table. At the seat of honor was the guest of the Night's Watch, Jon Stark, who in turn was seated next to his uncle, and the First Ranger of the Night's Watch, Benjen. The two were laughing as they spoke, catching up as only family memebers could. Ser Allister Thorne, the Master at Arms was well drunk by this point, sloshing his drink about, blindly smiling across the table; Lothar Frey, the Lord Steward, on the other hand, was perfectly sober, his clever eyes open as ever, watching the guest; and Maester Aemon, as ever, sat smiling, listening to the men talk more than he spoke.

And during the entire meal, all Arthur could think about was how to get these men out of the room, so that he could have a private conversation with the boy called Jon Stark. He had wanted to speak to the boy from the moment he arrived at Castle Black, but he also knew how careful he had to be where and when certain matters were discussed.

Arthur knew he might command the Night's Watch, but he knew it was his Lord Steward who commanded the Wall itself. To be sure, Lothar was a capable man, and could not fault him for how he ran the stewards at Castle Black; nor could he fault his First Builder, Yarwyck, for consulting with the Frey more than him; and, for all his influence, he stayed clear of his Lord Commander's authority where it really mattered, in his command of the rangers and relations with the wildings. (Arthur was especially grateful for that last part, as not all the black brothers were so sanguine about his policy of negotiation and fostering of peaceful relations with those who called themselves "the free folk"; but Arthur knew full well, from his days in the Kingsguard, of the importance of fostering good relations with the common people, be they the small folk of the Kingswood or the tribes Beyond the Wall. Of course, there was the Merret incident, but Lothar seemed to be embarassed of his brother's shame above anything else; still...) And for most of his years as Lord Commander, Arthur was happy that his Lord Steward sought and used the council of Maester Aemon; it only helped that the stewards at the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch corresponded regularly with Castle Black, and were as independent of Mormont and Pyke as Lothar was of him.

But tonight it made him wary; true, Aemon had been a friend to Arthur since he arrived at the Wall, and the two had also bonded over their relations and feelings of loyalty to the Targaryen line, and he even fully expected the old man's strong feelings extended to his young relative. Still, he had to be careful.

Because for all the trust he showed Lothar Frey in running the Wall, he knew the man was immensely clever and never shrank from using information to his advantage. The fact that he had worked harder than any man, following the death of Qorgyle, to see Dayne chosen as the next Lord Commander only worried Arthur more; it was said, after all, that a man who held such deep ambitious to be the man behind the throne could be more dangerous to the king than one who would sit in his chair. Such a man, Arthur understood, could not know of the loyalty he still held to Jon Stark.

At present though, the Frey was in the room, speaking to Jon. "... and true, the lad is literate, but Castle Black has the few stewards it needs to look after the records and library; the other duties he does poorly at, to say nothing of how hopeless his training with Ser Allister seems to be going. If he was sent here as punishment or actually wanted to join the Night's Watch, of course, we would think nothing of these challenges, but as it is..."

"Does he want to come with me?" Jon asked.

Lothar could only shrug at that. "I wouldn't presume to ask him, Lord Stark. Though if you wish to speak to the Tarly boy yourself..."

There was a howl outside, and the table fell silent. Jon chuckled nervously, "That'll be Rhaegal; I should go feed him..."

Arthur saw a chance there; "No, you stay here. The stewards can feed the wolf with the other dogs."

He turned to Lothar, who already understood; "I will see that Chett knows to feed the beast as well. Maester Aemon...", who he nodded to as he rose; Arthur understood that as well.

Once the Lord Steward was gone, the Lord Commander turned to his Master at Arms. "Ser Allister, I think you may have had enough drink for the night. Mayhaps you should head to your quarters, so you might stand a better chance of training the recruits sober tomorrow?" As he knew the man would, Allister nodded somberly and made to stand.

Arthur could afford to speak to Allister this way; the two knights had arrived at the Wall around the same time, and at first his black haired companion had been quiet, preferring to keep to himself, perhaps even nervous around keeping the same company as a former white cloak. If so, the reverence did not last, and he soon became one of the companions to the new Master at Arms at Castle Black, even becoming one of Dayne's sparring partners, helping to keep his skills sharp. And when the black brothers saw fit to promote Arthur to their Lord Commander, he saw Thorne to be his best fit replacement in training the new recruits. It came at a price though, as within a matter of months Allister was using his commander's company to vent about the new recruits, muttering in his drink how pitiful the newest batch of green boys were and such; still, Arthur preferred to hear this himself over drinks than have the recruits have to listen about their ineptitude themselves. And so long as he had someone to listen to him vent, Allister made for a patient, capapble teacher.

As the Master at Arms stumbled out the door, Aemon, to Arthur's relief, did the rest. "Brother Benjen, mayhaps you should look to the preparations for tommorrow's expedition?" Benjen's face turned somber at this, but he nodded, and excused himself. Aemon smiled, his blind eyes looking across the table. "And now, Lord Commander, I believe it is time my old bones turned in as well. By your leave..."

Arthur granted it, smiling. I was wrong to ever doubt your friendship, Aemon. My thanks. And once the Maester left, he was finally alone with Jon.

…

"I suppose," Ser Arthur Dayne said with an ironic smile, "you did not come all the way north to the wall simply to see it and enjoy the meager hospitality of the Night's Watch?"

Jon Stark grinned slightly. "You suppose correctly, Lord Commander. I came to speak to you."

"You want to know about your mother and father?"

"Yes." Jon let out a breath slowly. "Uncle Ned has told me of my mother, but can say little of their time together, and what drove them to…"

"To destroy the Seven Kingdoms for love, is that it?"

Jon blushed slightly, but met Ser Arthur's eyes unflinchingly. "Yes."

"How much do you know of the Targaryens Jon?"

"Some. I'm well acquainted with the Conquest of Dorne, and several histories from the Dance of Dragons, and of course, accounts of the conquest."

"They came from Old Valyria. Do you know that story?"

"Yes. Lady Daenys the Dreamer warned Aenar Targaryen of the fall that was coming, and so he left Old Valyria for Dragonstone."

"Just so. And conquered the Seven Kingdoms with dragons. Dragons, prophecy, magic; things that have always fascinated the Targaryens, often to their doom. So it was with Arian Brightflame, who sought to make himself a dragon, and Aegon V at the tragedy of Summerhal. Dragons and prophesies, and House Targaryen at the center of them all. Aegon's first-born son, Duncan the Small, wed a girl named Jenny of Oldstones, who brought with her to court an old woman known as the woods witch. Some say she was one of the children of the forest; most doubt it. The woods witch prophesied that House Targaryen would be restored through the children of Aerys and Rhaella. And there was another cryptic line in that prophesy: "the dragon must have three heads". Rhaegar was born amidst the smoke and death of Summerhal, so mayhaps it was inevitable that he should believe the prophesy applied especially to him. Yet after the birth of Aegon, your brother, it became clear to the prince that Elia Martell could not bare him another child."

"And the dragon must have three heads. So, why my mother? Why not Cersei Lannister, or even a girl of lesser status?"

"There were other prophesies—old ones—that spoke of a union of ice and fire. Rhaegar became convinced that this meant a Stark must somehow be involved. And so, he became fascinated—mayhaps even obsessed—with your mother. Lyanna Stark found the Prince's attentions flattering and welcome. Her betrothed, Robert Baratheon, was a noted womanizer even then, and I suspect she wanted something better for herself. So, when Rhaegar begged her to run away with him, she did so. Most of the rest, you know."

"So it was all about some bloody prophesy?"

"Yes, Jon. Rhaegar thought he was safeguarding the future of not only the Seven Kingdoms, but the world itself. That is why he took your mother… and that is why he married her."

"Married?"

"Yes."

"Does Uncle Ned know?"

"I am not certain what his sister told him, and what he believed. Better for him if he does not know, for what he does not know, Robert can never learn from him. Ser Oswell, Ser Gerold and I all knew the truth. Princess Elia suspected, I believe, but more than that I cannot say for certain. Your father and mother were married Jon, and so your rightful name is Jon Targaryen, the first of your name, king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. And of course, should you even consider claiming it, agents of the crown would kill you within the fortnight. Do you understand?"

Jon nodded solemnly. "As a legitimized Stark, I pose little threat to the king, but as a true-born Targaryen…"

"And it is not only Robert you need fear. Viserys Targaryen waits in Bravos, seeking an opportunity to press his own claim, with many of the remaining Targaryen loyalists in his court. He would not welcome news of your true-born Targaryen status any more than Robert. So you see, Jon, to reveal the truth would only result in your death, and mayhaps civil war. None of Rhaegar's last three loyal kingsguard wanted that, and if your Uncle knew the secret, I presume he felt the same.

"Yes, I think I understand." Jon stood and began to pace. "Uncle Ned never said anything, but I always suspected my acknowledgement was a source of friction between him and the king. Now, though, he has been called south to be made Hand, and I have been given lordship of the western shore."

"A powerful and important position."

"And yet, I could be king."

"You could. Renounce your Stark heritage, claim the Seven Kingdoms based on a claim of true-born blood. If that is your chosen course, I will give you a sworn statement to the truth of the claims, and my word still carries some weight. I believe Ser Oswell is far off in Essos, scheming against the day when you will make such a choice. It will be difficult, and will almost certainly cause civil war, but it is a choice you could make."

"Or, I could remain a Stark, build a port town on the west coast, foster trade with Lannisport, the Iron Islands and the Summer Isles, make a good marriage, and start a cadet branch of House Stark. Eventually, you, Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Oswell Went will die, and the world will be none the wiser that this new pack of wolves are dragons in truth."

"Those are indeed the paths that lie before you Jon; the choice, in the end, is yours."