The Conspiracy of Ice and Fire

by aspirantwriter

What if the three members of the Kingsguard who stayed at the Tower of Joy knew of Ned Stark's search for his sister, were able to meet him in secret and concoct a plan to keep the new-born King safe until he could reclaim his rightful throne? While Jon (Aegon Targaryen) grows up to be King, a small group secretly prepares Westeros for a Targaryen restoration. (Jon/Daenerys)

30. Reunions and introductions

Chapter 30: Reunions and introductions

Summary:
An abundance of reunions and introductions occur on Dragonstone.
Lady Olenna Tyrell corners Prince Oberyn. Or is it the other way around?

Notes:
Enjoy the latest chapter, proofread as always by the ever diligent Ravenousreadr.

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Chapter text:
The weather was nice and warm. The only wind Jon and his dragons felt was the air they were replacing by flying at such a speed. To Jon it seemed as if they had never flown so fast. But then, he often had the same notion when they flew over large distances. He hadn't needed to ask his dragons whether they minded making the trip all the way to Dragonstone only to have to fly back north in a matter of days. Rhaegal and Viserion enjoyed these long flights. They certainly liked testing their speed limit. But most of all they were thrilled by their current destination.

The sudden surge in his dragons' emotions alerted Jon that they had almost arrived before he actually saw Dragonstone shimmer in the distance with his own eyes. The hot air of the afternoon sun made it look like the island was a bit distorted. But it was Dragonstone all right. The happy screeches his dragons let out would certainly herald their arrival.

His dragons kept flying at top speed eager to get home. At the rate they were going, he imagined himself being catapulted over Rhaegal's head the moment the dragon needed to reduce speed drastically for the touchdown. Jon had to ask Rhaegal to take care with the landing. When they reached the cliff, Viserion provoked Rhaegal by tumbling playfully in the air while Rhaegal needed to keep steady so his human could safely reach the ground. Jon hardly had time to thank the green dragon and say his goodbyes before Rhaegal took off and joined his brother in the air finally able to express his joy without restrictions at being home once more.

When Jon turned his eyes away from his dragons' antics, he saw a large group descending the long winding stairway. Daenerys was already at the bottom running towards the cliff as fast as she could. Suddenly Jon felt the same delight as his dragons. Quickly realising that the further on the cliff they met up the longer it would take for the others to catch up, he stood his ground but smiled encouragingly at her.

She was out of breath when he finally could enclose her in his arms. "You're here. You're here." She murmured against his ear. "I was becoming worried. The raven you sent from Pyke gave us the impression you would be here a day earlier."

Jon didn't reply but took her head in both hands and kissed her.

"Aegon, they will see." She whispered, slightly out of breath when he finally released her mouth.

Jon just gazed into her purple eyes, their faces hovering only inches apart. He had yet to speak.

She only needed to lean in slightly and their lips would touch again. She felt her cheeks go warm at that thought. A sigh from contentment escaped her lips. She relished the fact that Jon was still holding her head in his hands and that his loving eyes were focussed solely on her. She admired the way his dark, almost black curls fell in soft waves over his forehead, swaying slightly with the wind that always blew a bit stronger out here on the cliffs.

Then her eyes wandered to his mouth again. It looked so sensual and soft, contrasting with the straight lines of the rest of his face. His lips glistened from the remnants of their passionate greeting and she touched hers with the tip of her tongue to savour the remaining taste he had left there. She didn't dare to speak again not wanting to ruin this precious moment before she absolutely had to. It would be broken soon enough by the approaching group.

Jon gave her a soft peck and released her face only to take both her hands in his and wove their fingers together. He finally spoke his first words. "I don't mind. I don't mind, Dany. It is not as if they don't already know. We just have to keep it a secret from the realm for now. I really don't mind that Ser Gerold and the rest know."

Dany's eyes were moist. If his letter had given her hope, this warm welcome and the resolve with which his words were spoken told her all she needed to know. She had never felt as happy as she did right this minute and saw he was also struggling to keep his composure. She closed her eyes for a moment and smelled the salty air, trying to commit every last detail of this precious encounter on the green cliffs of her home to memory. A memory she would hopefully get the chance to describe to their children and grandchildren when they asked her to tell them about her courtship with their father or grandfather, King Aegon the Sixth of his name.

She opened her eyes again when she heard the others were closing in. Even if she didn't want their moment to end, she had to be sensible because she knew who was coming to meet Prince Aegon. She took a step backwards. "Aegon, we have visitors. It would be best if you let go of me before they come close enough to see this as more than a greeting between kin."

Jon reluctantly took his eyes off her blushing face, looked over her shoulder and gently released her hands. Davos Seaworth and all four knights were approaching. Sam was a bit further behind with another group but Jon only had eyes for his loyal entourage that he had missed dearly.

Davos, despite being the eldest reached Jon first and embraced him. "Damned good to see you, son. You had me worried there for an instant."

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Davos. I can't count the times that I missed your presence and wise advice." Jon basked in the affection bestowed on him.

"Well, I am here now." Davos ended their embrace and took a step back to study the young man closely. "You look well. Strong. The others had me worried."

A guilty smile flitted over Jon's face. "In their defense, I was sick when last they saw me."

His awkward smile quickly changed in to a more honest one when he looked past Davos at the others, happy to be reunited with them all.

"Damned right you were!" Ser Gerold exclaimed. "Davos, give way. We want a chance to greet our Prince too."

His embrace was a bit shorter and Ser Oswell's even more. The knight seemed almost shy.

"My Prince."

Jon looked to his left knowing all too well who had spoken these two words. Ser Arthur stood there smiling broadly.

"Ser Arthur, you made it south as well." Jon turned his way and initiated their embrace. "I have been training hard. You will not be disappointed."

"That is the least of my worries, my Prince. I am glad to see you looking so well. I can't wait to hear what your plans are."

"You'll hear soon enough." Jon promised.

"The Princess?" Ser Arthur gave him a look that asked a lot more than those two words.

"Yeah." Jon's heartfelt expression betrayed the rest of his answer.

"Come here, my boy!" Ser Arthur was pushed aside and Jon almost lost his balance when one of the visitors pulled him towards his body.

"Prince Oberyn? What a nice surprise!" Jon noticed the others had retreated a bit to give the Dornish Prince enough space.

"See?" Prince Oberyn told to no one in particular with twinkling eyes when he released the Targaryen Prince from his exuberant embrace. "It was me he wanted to see all along. Young Tarly shouldn't have held me back."

He gestured to a woman standing close to Sam. "May I present my paramour, Ellaria Sand to you, my Prince?"

A tall exotic woman with slanted eyes that were accentuated with black eyeliner approached. She might not have been the most beautiful woman Jon had ever met, but her entire demeanour, the way she almost floated when she moved, the kind expression in her eyes and the well-chosen vibrant colours of her extravagant attire all enhanced her appearance and transformed her into an enchantress many men would desire. The woman oozed sensuality. Upon meeting her, Jon had no trouble believing most of Prince Oberyn's highhanded tales of their outrageous exploits were true, in particular the allusions to their unconventional sex life.

Jon bowed formally in response to her curtsy. "I am honoured to meet you, Ellaria Sand. Prince Oberyn's partner is most welcome here. I look forward to getting to know you better."

He noticed Oberyn and Ellaria share a quick look. Jon didn't know what Ellaria's meant. Prince Oberyn's look easily translated in 'See, I told you so.'

Ellaria Sand looked up at the sky. "Your dragons are magnificent, my Prince." She was not the only one who was observing the playful antics of Rhaegal and Viserion.

"On that note," Prince Oberyn gestured the others to approach. "May I present some friends from Dorne who will support you whatever my older brother may decide?"

"By all means." Jon smiled at Ellaria one last time and turned his attention to the men that Sam had finally given leave to approach.

"Lord Daeron Vaith, Lord of the Red Dunes and Lord Walter Wyl of the Boneway, Prince Aegon." Oberyn for once serious started the formal introductions of two new Dorne allies that had pledged to support the imminent Targaryen restoration.

After a short polite conversation the men made room for Ser Arthur to approach his Prince once more. This time he led a middle aged lady by the hand. "May I present my sister, the Lady Ashara Dayne, my Prince." The genuine smile on his Kingsguard's face belied the stately manner of the introduction.

The lady curtsied and when she straightened her back once more, Jon immediately noticed the resemblance with her brother in her hesitant smile.

"I am honoured to meet you, Lady Dayne. I am sorry you were deprived of your brother's company for all those years. I owe Ser Arthur a great deal. He played an important part in making it possible that I am standing before you healthy and well and capable of defending myself. I consider myself in your debt." Jon bowed as a show of respect.

"You honour our house, my Prince. I am glad to get to know the person my brother dedicated his life to. I can already see that he spoke true even if he spoke little." With a playful reproaching look at her brother she stepped aside and gave the Prince time to greet the few visitors that were still patiently awaiting their turn.

Only after the formalities were behind them and the group guided by Princess Daenerys headed back to the castle, did Jon get a chance to greet Sam properly. After sharing a long embrace and expressing their joy at seeing the other in good health, Jon was the first to speak up again.

"Robb, Gendry and Edric send their warmest regards, Sam." He kept his voice down to keep their conversation private.

"I received letters from each one. They all said the same thing and I quote 'I have time to write now that Jon left us once again.' end of quote." Sam's tone was teasing.

Jon smiled impishly. "Can I help it that you are all dispersed across the realm? We really need to find a way to get everyone together again. We will succeed in it one day, Sam."

"How long are you here for, Jon?" Sam looked at Jon and it seemed that he was almost afraid of the answer.

Jon sighed. "A sennight, ten days at the most. I want to be back at least a fortnight before the dead arrive at the prearranged spot so I can help with the final preparations and be in time should they somehow arrive sooner for some reason or other."

"Ten days." Sam looked pensive. "As soon as Varys hears that, you may expect more delegations to arrive. Everyone that has rallied to our cause has been expressing the desire to meet you in person. You better be prepared for a small invasion. Especially Prince Oberyn will not be able to keep himself from boasting and gloating."

"Those are worries for another day. I hope we have a feast this evening. I feel like celebrating my homecoming. The dragons' mood has affected mine it seems."

"That must be a Targaryen thing then." Sam teased him some more. "The Princess' mood has changed considerably as well. If I compare the way she beams from ear to ear now to the worried look she wore this morning …"

Jon nudged his shoulders. "Be glad for us, Sam. That is what a loyal friend would be."

"I am glad for you and the Princess, Jon. I was praying that you would come to your senses any day now. If you had remained a stubborn fool for much longer, I might have given you a not so subtle nudge in the right direction or have called for a group intervention. You are one lucky fellow or a very smart one to fall for the woman most suitable to strengthen your claim."

"I don't think sense had anything to do with it. Luck? Yeah, luck and perhaps fate." Jon admitted.

"And blood, and magic." Sam whispered.

"Don't forget the Gods." Jon sighed happily. "I will send them my thanks each night when I pray. I am one lucky man."

---

Jon was content to be reunited with the knights that had raised him all those years. The only downside was that they all vied for his time. Ser Gerold had arranged guard duties rather unconventionally his first day. Before Jon went to sleep, all four of them had been on duty for a short period. Each one had his own set of questions they wanted to ask in private. Jon only needed to wait till the first sliver of opportunity presented itself for the questions to start.

While he was bathing, Ser Gerold who was guarding the entrance of the small antechamber had briefed him on the new security measures on Dragonstone now that there were new visitors expected to arrive daily. The houseguards had been doubled. Access was restricted in the wing that housed the royal quarters. The corridors leading to these rooms had guards posted in them day and night.

Ser Gerold asked his Prince to give him advance notice of his movements so he could arrange an escort of at a minimum two Kingsguards and when the circumstances asked for it a small contingent of houseguards to follow him around as well.

Jon had stepped out of the tub and was drying himself with a cloth when he agreed with Ser Gerold measures and made it clear that he understood the need for these heightened security measures and had been reassured that the Princess' security had been upgraded as well.

He was putting on the clothes that lay on the bed, the ones he had chosen earlier when Ser Gerold switched the subject. His Lord Commander asked to hear more details of how Sandor was doing in the North and expressed his concerns on the appointment of Lady Brienne to his Kingsguard.

Jon listened carefully even if his eyes were trained on his hands that were tightening the laces of his breeches. Until now, Jon had been able to withhold from engaging the services of a page, a squire or any other male servant. He was capable of seeing to his own needs, cherishing the solitude and privacy that this gave him. He was well aware that things might change the moment he became the King and lived at court.

"Don't get me wrong, my Prince. I admire her attitude. She is one of the most forthright, one of the most honourable persons I met and she is a very skilled fighter. It is just the logistical nightmare of having a woman live with us at the White Sword Tower. Apart from my room that is rather spacious, there are only six sparse sleeping cells all on the same floor and they are only used for sleeping. All other activities take place in the communal room."

"Ser Gerold, although I have never seen it with my own eyes, I have read a detailed description of the White Sword Tower. It doesn't feel right to have my loyal Kingsguards, who raised me and lived with me in close proximity for so long, living in such mediocre accommodations while I dwell in luxury. Furthermore, the Gods willing, I intend to have a large family that needs to be protected and I also intend to assign more responsibilities to the three, or four of you on top of your guard duties."

"My Prince?" This was not the response Ser Gerold had expected to receive.

"The four of you will be asked to play an active role in various meetings for one, and it won't do to have you stand guard by the door and keep silent when you do so. I plan to expand the Kingsguard. I want to differentiate between senior Kingsguard members and the newer recruits. My three senior Kingsguards will also be advisers to the King and ambassadors when I visit the other Kingdoms. I will have to talk with Ser Barristan and Princess Daenerys to see what he prefers to do. The newer members of the Kingsguard that you recruit and train will be more formal guards and will be given the more routine guarding duties. So I give you leave to go in search of another building either to house all of you or to add to the quarters you already call your own."

"But my Prince, the safety of your spouse and children is the responsibility of the Dragonguard. Their numbers can vary to suit the needs of the royal family. Surely you must have been taught about the Royal Guard having three divisions? The position of Kingsguard is very exclusive. There have never been more than seven White Cloaks."

Jon stopped searching for his sword belt and sat down on the bed. He seemed deep in thought. "To tell you the truth, I had forgotten about that. I did indeed learn about this when I was very young. I learned those terms by hard but didn't actual consider the true meaning behind the words at the time. In recent years, the subject never came up again."

He looked up at Ser Gerold. "You have plans in place already to reinstate the Royal Guard with its three divisions?"

"It has always been that way when a Targaryen ruled the Seven Kingdoms. Are you going to toss these traditions aside, my Prince?" Ser Gerold did his best to hide his dismay at the thought.

"I didn't, I mean." Jon swallowed. His earnest eyes looked at the slightly pained expression of his Lord Commander. "I only wanted to reward my three loyal protectors and make sure they know I am aware that they have more potential than just being loyal swords that keep me safe. I will need your council as well as your swords. What is your council in this regard, Ser Gerold?"

Ser Gerold stood rooted to his spot and replied formally. "I envisioned myself as the Lord Commander of the Royal Guard and as such I would be responsible to oversee the three separate divisions. I must confess I have already ordered a new white cloak edged in gold. That position entitles me to be a member of your small council."

Seeing his Prince nod, Ser Gerold felt encouraged to continue. "Either Ser Arthur or Ser Oswell could then be named as Commander of the Kingsguard also known as the White Cloaks. They are the first division of the Royal Guard, dedicated solely to the King's safety. Ser Barristan could be named Commander of the second division, the Dragonguard. If you recall from your lessons they are responsible for the safety of the Queen and royal children. These men are recognised by their cloaks of half red and half black with a white three headed dragon on the back and on the breast. As the Commander of the Dragonsguard, Ser Barristan's cloak would be edged in silver.
I do not have a candidate for the position of Commander of the Household Guard yet. I will assume these responsibilities at first until I find someone suitable."

"I couldn't help but notice that the Houseguards on Dragonstone wear the black coats with a red three headed dragon on the back and breast as worn by the Targaryen royal houseguard." Jon remarked a pensive look on his face. "You have been building a Household guard but no Dragonguard as yet?"

"I wanted to speak to you about the appointment of Ser Barristan first. I am not sure what the man's ambitions are and wouldn't wish to disappoint you by antagonising him. Perhaps he is vying for the position of Commander of the Kingsguard."

"What about the choice between Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell?" Jon asked him perplexed. "I would have thought that was the more delicate decision."

"I wanted to talk to Ser Arthur first and offer the position to him. If he declines then Ser Oswell will be promoted. That is if you agree, my Prince."

Again Jon nodded looking grave. "It is all coming back to me now. Household guards can be promoted into the Dragonguard when a spot opens up. Dragonguards in turn can be promoted into the Kingsguard when there is a vacancy. I obviously overstepped. However, I can't go back on my word as far as the appointments of Lady Brienne of Tarth and Lord Loras of House Tyrell are concerned. I explicitly promised them a knighthood and a position in my Kingsguard."

"I will honour your promise, my Prince. " Ser Gerold was quick to give his assent. "There have always been exceptions. Take the appointment of Ser Jaime for instance. He became a Kingsguard because of his fighting skills and pedigree when he was very young. Then of course, Baratheon didn't have a formal Dragonguard."

Jon looked relieved now. "Can we postpone the other appointments until after the battle I am about to lead near Hardhome? Be assured, I will leave the ultimate decision to you and promise not to appoint any other members to your Kingsguard. If ever I am in that position again, I will recommend the men or women in question to you and won't interfere in your decision."

"You recommendations will always be considered most seriously, my Prince. You are certainly qualified enough to detect a good fighter. But always keep in mind their honour and loyalties are also very important qualifications to take into consideration."

"And you will see to it that the three of you will be available for advice and I can still ask Ser Arthur for example to attend a meeting or join me on a trip to another Kingdom and have him attend meetings there?" Jon had gotten up from the bed again and picked up his sword belt.

"We'll discuss such details after you return from the Wall, my Prince."

Jon put his sword belt around his waist and turned to Ser Gerold when he continued a serious expression on his face."And the White Sword Tower can remain the home of the Kingsguard, with perhaps some alterations to accommodate the lady Brienne? Let me know if you need other lodgings."

"I will think on all you have proposed, my Prince. We'll revisit this conversation later. I promise to extend a warm welcome to the two new members. We will find a way to make it work and I will look into the accommodations. However I want to make it clear right now that the Kingsguard will never relinquish the White Sword Tower."

"But they might consider upgrading it a little?" Jon couldn't help but suggest with a tentative smile.

"They might at that." Ser Gerold relented and his serious face relaxed when he looked in the earnest eyes of his Prince. "It is a pleasure serving you my Prince, an honour and a pleasure."

Not long after, Ser Gerold had left him only for Ser Oswell to take up guard duty. Jon unpacked his small bag, sorted through his affairs left behind on Dragonstone and laid out a new doublet suitable to entertain his visitors during dinner that evening. Then Jon asked Ser Oswell to escort him to the location where Dragonstone's new heart tree had taken root. Ser Oswell informed him about the plans of planting more trees and building a small garden complete with surrounding stone wall to create a safe haven to pray sometime in the future. For now, the war efforts were taking precedent.

Jon nodded, and swallowed thickly before expressing the wish for a small crater to be dug as well. It would be nice to have an artificial pond close to the heart tree. While they strolled back to the castle, Ser Oswell wanted to hear about his sparring sessions, an account of Gendry's efforts and a detailed description of the arsenal of dragonglass weapons.

A bit later Ser Barristan took over guard duty and didn't beat about the bush. He immediately raised the topic of the Princess. The knight gently coaxed him to reveal how things stood between them. Jon sitting at the small table stopped reading the messages that lay before him and informed the old knight that aside from a major catastrophe, he considered the two of them betrothed. Ser Barristan then recommended that he should tell the Princess as much. Jon promised to use the first opportunity he could find to do just that. Ser Barristan left with a smile on his face only to have Ser Arthur take over his watch.

The talk with Ser Arthur had been the more emotional one. After broaching topics as the wellbeing of his friends including Sandor and his uncle Benjen, the knight had gotten Jon to talk about the prophecy and whether Jon now truly believed that he was at the center of it.

Jon who still had difficulty at times grasping the fact that simply by being born, he was entitled to a Kingship, ride dragons and was the predestined hero to lead the fight against the dead, had always refrained from discussing his role in the prophecy with anyone except for Lord Reed. But somehow Ser Arthur had gotten past his defenses that day and it had all come pouring out of him.

"I know it doesn't make sense, Ser Arthur and I don't want to sound melodramatic, but despite the general consensus that I have embraced my birthright. I struggle with doubts every day."

He looked up as if to check if Ser Arthur was willing to hear him out. Ser Arthur left his position close to the door and sat opposite Jon, the table still littered with the scrolls that Jon had been sifting through between them.

"I have known since I was twelve that I have this destiny and I have learned to accept it for the most part. But there are times that I can't help feeling I am not worthy of it. And on top of that it now has become clear that I am indeed at the center of a prophecy that is thousands of years old. Why now, why me? What if I cannot live up to expectations?"

"I cannot begin to imagine the burden you carry with you, my Prince. I can only assure you that you are doing fine. You are not shying away from the responsibility. At the very least, be proud of that. You are embracing your destiny as best as you can. You will become a good King step by step, just as you've grown from baby to boy to man not overnight but over the course of seventeen years."

"But I am not perfect. I make mistakes just as everybody else. I have a problem with asking things of others. I worry about people giving things up, risking their lives because of me. Why do older, wiser, better men kneel before a younger man just because of his ancestry?"

"I can only answer for myself, my Prince. It is ingrained in me. It is the way of our society, the customs and mores we grew up with. The moment I became a Kingsguard, I swore to serve and protect the rightful rulers of the Seven Kingdoms for the rest of my live. I consider serving you as the greatest honour that has been bestowed on me."

"And what if I had turned out to be a stupid boy who can't count to ten or a cruel tyrant who orders people killed for no reason? What if I turned out to be a reincarnation of the Mad King? Does the role you have chosen for yourself prevent you from thinking for yourself, from taking responsibility for your actions?"

Ser Arthur shifted in his chair into a better angle using the delay to formulate his answer. "If you were just a stupid boy, we would have given you sound advisers who could guide you or take over the duties you could not perform. The other two possibilities you describe, I honestly do not know how I would have acted. It is a difficult question you ask, my Prince. As knights we are sworn to protect our monarch but also have a duty to defend the weak. If these interests clash, I will need to assess the situation and all its circumstances and live with the decision I make the rest of my life."

"I'll give you some specific circumstances." Jon immediately grasped the opening Ser Arthur had given him.

"I am a Mad King and have hurt the people of my Kingdoms cruelly and without justification on multiple occasions. Now I sit on my throne while a rebellion is raging outside the walls I hide behind. I have ordered for explosive substances to be put in strategic parts of the city. A single order from me will cripple the invading army but will also most certainly kill almost the entire population of my capital. You are the Kingsguard on duty that day and can hear me yelling the command to ignite the fires that will cause a chain of explosions and will destroy the entire city killing all its innocent inhabitants. Will you stop me if the only way to do so is killing your King, the one that you have sworn to protect, by stabbing me in the back?"

Jon saw Ser Arthur's eyes grow wider while he talked. A frown had appeared on the knight's forehead. Suddenly it disappeared and he looked at Jon with understanding. "You are talking of Jaime Lannister!"

Jon nodded. "And he was younger than I am now. I reckon that act destroyed the potential of the person he could have become. Instead of a famous knight like you, he became infamous and is called a Kingslayer. He was so unhappy that he sought emotional support from his twin and ended up fucking her and cuckolding the second King he served and could not esteem. Then circumstances drove him to almost murdering my cousin Bran in a fit of panic."

"I feel sorry for Jaime Lannister. I have, ever since Ser Gerold told me what had really happened in the throne room that fateful day. Still I can't help but think that I am missing your point here, my Prince. I do not think that what you are trying to accomplish here is making me feel sorry for Ser Jaime, I mean Jaime Lannister." Ser Arthur looked at Jon with a question in his eyes

Jon smiled apologetically. "That is because I am making a mess of my question. The thing is, I have this birthright, this destiny and you all consider me worthy now. One misstep however, one wrong decision could throw me off the right path and I could become another Jaime Lannister or worse, another Mad King. That fear cripples me sometimes."

"I haven't witnessed any crippling yet, my Prince. Besides, you have all of us to fall back upon. To use your example, Jaime Lannister only had the dubious support of his evil egocentric sister."

"True, I have the support and advice of many. But still the final decision and final responsibility is mine. And I struggle to decide sometimes. Even knowing most of my flaws, I just can't get around them."

"The only flaw I see so far is you being too modest and taking too much on your shoulders." Ser Arthur reassured his Prince.

"I have many flaws. I am not a good strategist when it comes to putting soldiers in harm's way. I read of battles where a commander willingly sacrifices a significant part of his army to set a trap, lure the enemy a certain way. I do not know if I will ever be able to do that. I can't help feeling partly to blame for the rebellion caused by my parents' secret marriage and it makes me doubt the righteousness of my claim at times. The realm has already bled for me to be born. I also have this urge to earn everyone's approval and that influences and potentially delays my decision making. I can go on for some time still."

"Perhaps it is not me you should be talking to about all this. Davos, your uncle Benjen, Lord Reed are all better placed to help you out." Ser Arthur suggested. He was out of his depth and unsure how to respond to all he was hearing.

"They all would offer well-meant advice. I know most of what they will say already. Rationally I know all that. I know that they are mostly right and that I am often overthinking things. But even knowing all that, the emotions are there and I struggle with them all the same. Talking about this out loud makes these feelings easier to put aside somehow. I just need a sympathetic ear, someone who listens without giving a lecture full of excellent advice afterwards."

"I do not think that is a compliment exactly, you singling me out for this." Ser Arthur gave him a wan smile.

"It is. You are easy to talk to. And when you give advice, it is always done in such a way that it does not limit my options, or tries to steer me in a certain direction. Besides, we are often of the same opinion." Jon smiled and Ser Arthur now returned his smile with a bit of relief.

"It is interesting though that you left Eddard Stark out of the list of people to talk to about my dilemmas." Jon ventured.

"You know well enough why I did that. I'd prefer not to voice my reasons out loud." Ser Arthur voice sounded firm, even if his eyes betrayed some humour.

Both men stayed silent after that. Jon broke their contemplation when he asked in a much lighter tone. 'Want to hear who I beat while you were not with me?"

"I'd be more interested to learn who did beat you, my Prince." Ser Arthur countered in a teasing tone. "I look forward to putting myself on that short list once again."

"You can try. This is one area where I am losing my modesty and am not feeling guilty about it." Jon countered. "I look forward to sparring with you come morning."

A knock startled Ser Arthur who immediately got up and walked back to the door.

"Don't worry. It is just friendly old me wanting to see if the Prince has time to have a word." Jon heard Davos' voice tell Ser Arthur.

"Let him in, Ser Arthur. I am most willing to have a private talk with my Hand." Jon nodded at Ser Arthur and the knight took up his guard duty in the hallway after closing the door.

Jon had left the small table and stood near the fire place. If Davos wanted to talk, perhaps the softer chairs here would be more suitable. He turned his head and savoured the presence of his trusted adviser.

"I can't find the words to express how glad I am to have you back, Davos."

Davos chuckled. "Don't sweat it. I believed you the first time that you told me on the cliff. How are you doing, son?"

"Glad to be back here. I never realised I missed Dragonstone when I was in the North. But then I have been rather busy there. There never seems to be enough time. But if I have to be honest. I am also anxious and somewhat scared about what is to come."

"That is only natural. How is Robb Stark doing?"

Jon launched in a long explanation telling him about the Stark siblings, his uncle, his friends, Sandor and his new wife and Tormund having a new-born son. When Davos started to ask after the situation in the North, Jon suggested keeping that conversation for the debriefing that was to take place tomorrow morning immediately after the sparring session.

"Fair enough. Just the broad lines then." Davos agreed readily.

"By now I have the support of the North, the Riverlands, the Iron Islands, The Vale, part of the Crownlands and part of Dorne. We have an impressive fleet stationed here and two large dragons. The Reach is still on the fence but I am not too worried about them ever since Loras has agreed to become a member of my Kingsguard. The Stormlands, Euron Greyjoy and of course King Robert are certain to oppose us." Jon paused for breath.

"And reading the long list of Targaryen loyalists present in the capital and at the royal court of King Robert, the capital is ripe for the taking." Davos used the opportunity to pipe in.

"Exactly. I can't marry Euron Greyjoy and Prince Stannis won't give up House Baratheon's claim to the Iron Throne just by me being a good husband to his daughter, I intend to adhere to my great-great-uncle's dying wish and marry Princess Daenerys."

"Good for you, son." Davos was pleased to see Jon blush.

"You really think so? I won't make a political mistake by not marrying Lady Margaery?" Even though it was phrased as a question, Jon's tone made it clear it was more of a statement and he just needed Davos to agree with him.

"The Tyrells don't deserve that honour. If you were to marry for political reasons, I would think it fairer that you rewarded a house that has helped our cause as opposed to one that is always looking to find the highest bidder. No Jon, if Eddard Stark can seal the betrothal between his heir and Lady Margaery, the Tyrells are being recompensed more than their due. You don't know how many chances they have turned down over the years. I won't say anything against the Lady Margaery as a person. I don't know her well enough for that, but her family, you owe them nothing."

"Am I understanding this right? Are you confirming that there is no need to delay our betrothal or keep it a secret?" Jon leaned forward as if that would make him hear Davos' reply that titbit sooner.

"You would make one pining Princess very happy. Might I suggest a joint coronation and wedding ceremony in the Grand Sept of Baelor?"

"Only if we marry before the old Gods in a Godswood at the latest the night before. Being married by a Septon in a grand ceremony is just a piece of theatre I am willing to play my part in to placate the followers of the Seven. I will consider myself married to Dany only after we have said our vows whilst kneeling in front of a heart tree before witnesses and having our union blessed by the Old Gods.

---

When Prince Aegon Targaryen entered the Great Hall that evening, walking side by side with Princess Daenerys all eyes turned to them. Sam had taken Jon's words to heart and had seen to it that a festive atmosphere ruled the Great Hall. Decorations had been pulled out from under the dust. Combined with the newly painted banners, Jon had never seen the Great Hall looking so grand and festive. The throne was hidden behind the large drapes with their sigil. The side walls were lined with double rows of tables. Jon noticed the visitors from Dorne were all seated at the front table lining the wall to his left. Amongst them were several new arrivals and Jon anticipated more introductions.

When his eyes scanned the other tables and the ones on the right side of the Great Hall, he smiled. He could put a name to all the men and most of their family members. It was nice to see the inhabitants of Dragonstone and the Driftmark mingling. He nodded several greetings before reaching the high table, noticing Dany doing the same with a happy smile on her face.

Soft music could be heard coming from the left corner. Two young minstrels were sitting on a bench. One was playing a large harp that stood in front of him. The other was plucking strings on a strange looking instrument having a pear-shaped body and a long neck. The sweet, gentle tones coming from this musical instrument complimented the sound of the harp beautifully.

As soon as Jon and Daenerys were seated, a line of servants entered carrying plates with deliciously smelling meat and freshly baked bread. Pitchers of wine were present in abundance. Jon leaned a bit forward so he could look past Davos to Sam and mouthed a sincere thank you. Sam nodded his head, smiling broadly.

It had all been arranged to perfection. Everyone who witnessed the royal couple take their seats at the high table received the message loud and clear. You couldn't miss the large banners of the three headed dragon hanging behind them. A trueborn King and Princess of House Targaryen, aided by two living dragons would soon be staking its claim to the Iron Throne. And by the way they had entered it was clear that the Seven Kingdoms would not only have a new Targaryen King but also a new Queen with the blood of old Valyria. At least half of the Lords present were disappointed that their hopes to bind their house to House Targaryen in marriage were thwarted. Still the majority was looking forward to witnessing the beginning of the promising reign of the young King and his future Queen.

When most of the food had been consumed, Jon and Dany agreed to do the rounds. Dany moved over to the Dornish delegation, Jon sat down at a table on the opposite side where two families, one from the Driftmark and the other from Dragonstone were arguing who was the better acquainted with the Targaryen Prince. Jon joined their banter and challenged them to prove to him who had first voiced his suspicions regarding his origins out loud. This promptly started another friendly rivalry with the houses on Dragonstone arguing that the inhabitants of the Driftmark had an unfair advantage there.

Jon then silenced them all by telling a few stories of growing up on the small island. Soon more people drifted to his table and Jon found himself telling the story of raising two tiny dragons to a wide audience forming a circle around the table where he was seated.

When he fell silent, Prince Oberyn, who had wormed his way to a spot close to the Targaryen Prince started entertaining everyone with a colourful tale of his first encounter with Prince Aegon and boasted how he had immediately recognised the fighting style of his dear friend, the famous Sword of the Morning and that way had known something had been up from the very first moment.

A bit later, Princess Daenerys also joined that side of the room when most of the Dornish delegation expressed their wish to hear the stories Jon was telling. The chair next to Jon was immediately vacated and offered to her by a young carpenter that had helped transform the figurehead of their flagship. Jon took her hand in his and put it on his lap while they listened to the exaggerated tales of the Dornish Prince.

Jon then interrupted him and took over the story revealing how a younger version of himself had tricked the Dornish Prince in teaching him the basics of fighting with a longspear. Prince Oberyn intruded several times to add an exaggerated detail. Noble Lords and smallfolk alike were spellbound. Jon spent a lovely evening basking in the company of friends and allies, grateful that everyone accepted him and happy that he and Dany could enjoy each other's company with neither censure from their environment nor tension between the two of them.

His mind wandered a bit when Prince Oberyn told an elaborate story Jon had already heard at least twice during the time they had been together in Castle Black. He gently moved his thumb over Daenerys' hand that he was still holding in his lap and he thought back to their stolen moment right before supper.

Jon had asked Dany to wait for him to pick her up so he could be her escort to dinner. When he had knocked on her door it had been a bit early still. It hadn't been Dany who had opened the door but instead it had been Irri, her handmaiden that had greeted him with a shy smile. Jon had returned the greeting and taken the opportunity to express his gratitude that she had been willing to travel to another continent to keep her friend company. Irri had blushed and invited him inside telling him her mistress had been awaiting him eagerly.

Dany had been standing inside the room nervously wringing her hands but he saw the hope in her eyes when she lifted them to his face. Aside from his behaviour since arriving, his scroll must have arrived almost a sennight ago and he had understood that she was eager for him to explain the hints in his letter. Jon hadn't wasted any time.

Careful not to disturb her elaborate hairdo, he had taken her in his arms and had given her a gently kiss. "Tomorrow I formally announce to the small council my intent to marry you. That is if you will still have me."

He heard a small shriek coming from Irri who had remained by the door. Dany gave her a significant look and Irri smiled encouragingly at her and left the room.

Dany in the meantime had taken a small step back and had looked at him her eyes suspiciously moist. "Is that your way of asking me? Not the most romantic proposal, Aegon." She had used a teasing tone even if there had been a tremor in her voice.

Jon had grabbed both her hands, his dark Stark eyes looking warmly at hers with clear intent. "Let me try to do this right then." He had taken a deep breath. "Dearest, loveliest Dany, I would do anything to have you by my side day and night. It has been so hard these last few moons, knowing you exist in this world and not being able to stake my claim for the realm to see. I love you with every fibre of my being and I can't imagine a life where you are not beside me. Be my Queen and help me with the daunting task before us. Rule the Seven Kingdoms together with me. Warm my bed and give me heirs. Please promise you will marry me, my beloved."

He had paused and had held his breath when he had seen two tears rolling down her cheeks. He had released her hands so his were free to gently wipe these tiny wet pearls away. "Don't cry, Dany. Just say yes and we can smile at each other for the rest of our lives."

"You're sure, Aegon? No sudden setback, no declaration of war will incite you to rescind your word or worse live beside me with regret, with guilt?"

He had enveloped her in his arms and pulled her body against him, gently guiding her head against his chest. "Forgive me for not deciding this sooner. But don't doubt me now, don't doubt my word. I did not make this decision lightly but I made it taking everything into account and am now absolutely convinced it is the best option for the realm as well as for you and me."

He had put his hand under her chin and guided her head slowly upwards so she had been able to read the honesty and absence of doubt in his eyes.

"I solemnly swear I will never regret this decision. Not only are you the only woman I could ever love, you strengthen my claim to the throne. Our children will have your pure Valyrian blood and you have already proved that you have what it takes to become a good Queen. You will provide me with council, support me and together we will strive to make the Seven Kingdoms a place where nobles and smallfolk can live in peace and prosperity. You are the one for me, Dany. I am so lucky that the love of my heart and the right Queen for Westeros is one and the same person: you, you are … everything. You are it."

He had felt her tremble in his arms and his left hand had stroked her back in a soothing manner. Moments later he had heard her sigh of contentment before she had spoken.

"Yes, of course I will marry you. Yes, yes and yes. And there is nothing to forgive, Aegon. You were right not to make a hasty decision."

She hadn't been able to elaborate because he had tilted her chin a bit higher and had kissed her reverently, still taking care not to ruin her braids."

"Then we are betrothed, my dear. No formal announcements yet, except to the members of our small council tomorrow but that is all. We will marry after the Iron Throne is ours."

"Ours," She had sighed and had snuggled closer to him not caring that her dress got a bit wrinkled.

"Ours," he had affirmed. "Now I do not know about you but I am starting to feel hungry. Besides, I reckon we have a Great Hall filled with people that are expecting us."

Ser Barristan who had stood outside Dany's door had nodded at them when they had left her room and had followed them to the Great Hall. He had tried to keep his face blank befitting a Kingsguard following the royals he was protecting. But those who knew him well would have seen by his relaxed features and the light in his eyes that the old knight was very happy that moment. He had been ever since Irri had left the room and he had heard his Prince proposing to Princess Daenerys before the door closed behind her handmaiden.

"Our Prince can affirm that that is true. Isn't that right?" Jon startled out of his reverie when Prince Oberyn nudged his shoulder. "Hey Prince Aegon, were you wool-gathering?"

Prince Oberyn noticed the entwined hands on Jon's lap. "I see. You are forgiven, my Prince. Nothing but a beautiful lady to make dreamers out of the fiercest warriors. How skilled have you gotten with a longspear, Prince Aegon? " He challenged the Targaryen Prince.

"Not as skilled as I would like, but I welcome the challenge and will oblige you if afterwards you agree to let me take on your longspear with my sword and shield for at least one bout." Jon didn't hesitate to grasp the opportunity to spar with the elusive Dornish Prince.

"Just let me sleep on that for a sennight or so." Prince Oberyn's playfully sidestepped Jon's familiar request once again. "I'll get back to you on that. For now, I will try to get up early enough to watch you train. Ser Arthur told me it is quite the sight."

"I try." Jon said smiling and teased. "At least I will be more productive than you the coming days."

"But I already have my reputation, young one. You are just beginning to build your legacy. Come to me for advice anytime you want. I am a fountain of wisdom," he boasted grinning from ear to ear.

Prince Oberyn filled his cup with red Dornish wine and lifted it, loudly calling for silence.

"Let us all drink to the health of Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, rightful heir to the Iron Throne and soon to be the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. All hail Aegon Targaryen, long may he reign!"

"Long may he reign, long may he reign."

---

The next morning, Jon saw Dany only fleetingly when they broke their fast together very early in the Great Hall. Only Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur and Irri were present. Dany and Jon left the table after she promised to take a walk with him after supper that evening. Dany was set to go to the Driftmark for most of the day.

Jon and Ser Arthur headed for the training yard where Ser Oswell joined them soon after. Next up would be a small council meeting and the afternoon was reserved for private audiences. The noble families would all get chance to speak with the Prince without the entire court present.

Jon performed his training complete with muscle building exercises that had become a routine now. Ser Arthur who observed them for the first time was pleased with his enhanced strength but cautioned him when he observed the intensity of some of the routines Jon was performing.

"Careful not to strain your muscles, my Prince. Your body is still developing. Your joints and ligaments have trouble enough adjusting to your grow spurt. I would advise you not to run around with that much weight. Spare your knees for now. In a year or two you will be less vulnerable to injuries."

A while later, Ser Gerold came out and asked them stop the session for today and join them in the room with the painted table as soon as they had freshened up.

---

Davos and his three Kingsguards all took seats facing him. Sam sat down next to Jon and started to place his writing material in front of him, covering the part that depicted the Fingers in doing so. Jon was amused by the symbolism of that little act. Even more when he noticed he sat at the exact spot where King's Landing and Dragonstone were painted.

The seating arrangements seemed a bit off though. He would have preferred to have Davos on his side of the table. He shook his head trying to lose these silly notions. This was no negotiation between opponents. They were all friends working together towards a common goal.

"Ser Barristan has accompanied the Princess to the Driftmark of course." Ser Gerold remarked when he detected Jon eying them one by one.

Jon nodded. "Who will start?"

"Perhaps you should." Davos spoke up. "Tell us briefly what happened at your end and we will do the same after."

"Not too briefly" Ser Arthur objected. "I am rather curious."

"Well," Jon started to tell them in detail about Robb's rescue and the reactions of the Northern Lords. He was briefer when he mentioned the murder of Lord Roose Bolton, Ramsay Snow's execution and Domeric Bolton and Theon Greyjoy's predicament.

"That is all rather good news, my Prince." Ser Oswell ventured. "You even got the Lords of the North to pledge their support to fight an enemy they don't necessarily believe in."

Jon nodded at Ser Oswell. "Uncle Benjen played his part. My cousin Robb deserves credit as well."

"You visited Winterfell next and then Eastwatch?" Davos encouraged them to move along.

Jon looked over at Sam who was scribbling fervently. "Are you ready to tackle the next subject, Sam?"

"Don't worry on my account. I am only recording some key words. I will fill out the rest from memory later." Sam smiled encouragingly at Jon

Jon nodded appreciatively and proceeded to tell them of the welcome he had received at Eastwatch. He described Gendry's enormous efforts and the crates filled with dragonglass weapons. Then he moved on and told them about the plans he had made with Mance Rayder and the promises of reinforcement that surely were on their way to Hardhome by now led by Tormund and Sandor.

"I am glad the Night's Watch has come to its senses. The ravens you sent us from Castle Black were reassuring as well in that regard at least." Ser Gerold remarked.

"Did you really broker a truce with Prince Renly and later with Jaime Lannister?" Davos asked.

"I did." Jon affirmed and recounted parts of his conversation with both men. Then he looked at Ser Arthur and smiled. "I beat him in a sparring session, if only barely. It was fun though. He fights well. I recognised your teachings."

"I spent enough time polishing his style and would be disappointed if that was not the case. He was my most promising pupil before I started to teach you, my Prince." Ser Arthur's tone was serious.

"We were both lucky to have such an excellent teacher." Jon nodded appreciatively to the knight.

"If you are done complementing each other, I am curious to hear what happened at Pyke and what concessions you made to the Greyjoys." Davos interfered. "Your message was rather sparse, my Prince."

"That is because there was hardly anything to tell. I would inform you that everything went exactly according to plan for once, but not even our plans included the fact that they would surrender without putting up at least a semblance of a fight." Jon looked at his Lord Commander. "Didn't you caution me time and time again not to expect fair play and to be prepared for nothing but absolute ruthlessness and cruelty from the Ironborn, Ser Gerold?"

Seeing Ser Gerold nod he continued. "The men stationed on Pyke had all gathered on the shore close to the spot where the ships of Yara Greyjoy were planning to dock. It was a sight to be seen. The soldiers wearing the sigil of the Golden Company marched on the beach led by Yara Greyjoy. I flew over their heads as low as I dared with the two dragons. When Yara Greyjoy approached the ranks of the Ironborn loyal to Euron Greyjoy who had come out to defend Pyke, we all expected their leader to step forward to negotiate. Instead his men all threw down their weapons, kneeled right there on the beach and swore fealty to her."

"Just like that?" Sam had stopped scribbling and looked at Jon. "Because of your dragons?"

"Just like that." Jon affirmed. "To be honest, I think neither the dragons, nor the presence of the fake Golden Company recruits had much to do with it. Rumours about Euron Greyjoy's cruel treatment of his men had spread on Pyke and I think they all sought Yara Greyjoy's protection from his wrath. It was rather anticlimactic. All that show and effort just for nothing."

"Not for nothing. The rumours will help Strickland." Ser Oswell remarked.

"You did sit down with Yara Greyjoy and made arrangements, I trust?" Davos asked his Prince. "Euron Greyjoy is still out there and will retaliate."

"I want to know as well." Ser Gerold stated still a bit chafed about being somewhat off with his initial evaluation of the threat.

"She is keeping tabs on her uncle's whereabouts as she has been doing the entire time. He is still east of Westeros, far away from the Iron Islands. She is more worried about him doing something desperate and attacking us or King Robert than of him coming after her in the near future. There are rumours that her uncle is considering an alliance with the Stormlands."

"Did she make any demands on us? Did she ask for her brother to be returned to her?" Ser Oswell was tapping his fingers on the table. Jon was amused to see he was hitting the exact spot where the Iron Islands were situated on the painted table.

"She asked." Jon admitted. "Respectfully," he added. "She cursed Theon when I told her what he had done to one of her allies. I even had to calm her down and describe to her the punishment he already suffered at the hands of Ramsay Snow."

"What was decided, Jon?" Davos asked the only question that mattered. It served no purpose to keep dwelling on Theon Greyjoy's situation.

"She rescinded her demand. Theon would not be welcome on the Iron Island if the men heard what had transpired. It would only be safe for him to return if he proved himself once more. She all but asked me to put him on the frontlines of one of my wars so he could redeem himself."

"Ironborn." Ser Gerold's tone conveyed it all.

"Will Yara Greyjoy honour her part of the agreement and live of trade instead of raids?" Davos formulated his question more precisely since he still hadn't learned the information he had asked for.

"I have her written word, Davos." Jon looked at his hand. "I received it before I agreed to help her. I wrote you that already. There was no time and no need to discuss these things in detail again. I can send an ambassador over later once I have established my position in King's Landing."

"And then you lingered at Greywater Watch and had us all worried." Ser Arthur changed the subject but not necessarily to an easier one for Jon.

Once more all eyes were looking at him, everyone longing to hear what had caused the delay. Last night when Sam had mentioned the subject during supper, Jon's expression had gone blank and he told his friend that an explanation was best left for another time.

"It was not my initial intent to stay an extra day." Jon responded after a significant pause. He sighed. "I reckoned I would still arrive before a raven with a message could reach you when I made the decision to stay a bit longer."

"Why did you stay longer, Jon?" Sam repeated his question of the night before. He had dropped his quill and looked at his friend a worried expression on his face. "What did he see this time? Is it bad news?"

Jon looked at Sam and fought his reluctance to share the information. They all needed to know soon enough. There was no way around it. Better do it now and be done with it.

"It was not so much what Lord Reeds saw. I was summoned because of visions Bran, my little cousin received from the Gods and uh what I dreamed as well. We combined all our information and it was, uh how shall I put it." Jon ran his hand over his face, "uh revealing, and at the same time raising more questions than ever."

"Jon," Davos friendly warning to get on with it coincided with Ser Gerold's exasperated "My Prince!"

Jon frowned. "I'll tell you. Just bear with me. I am still dealing with the enormity of it all and am not done trying to make sense of some of it."

He looked around and saw the expectation on their faces was still there but even Ser Gerold's stern stare had softened.

"First of all, the fight against the army of the dead that will happen near Hardhome soon will not be the final fight against this enemy. There is a place in the far north where their leader resides. A place protected by magic. This Commander of the White Walkers has sent half of his forces to confront us on the eastern shores. If we survive this battle, the final fight will take place after I am King. My vision was identical to Bran Stark's. Only a King can defeat a King."

Jon paused and noticed everyone was looking glum. When Ser Gerold wanted to interfere, Jon shook his head. "There is more." He said simply and it was enough to make Ser Gerold keep silent.

"I had a vision myself. I am on the battle field wearing the same kingly armour made of Valyrian steel complete with red rubies that my father, Prince Rhaegar wore according to your descriptions. I can't see my army, only lots of ice and fire and I know I am about to face him. I do not know when it will happen, it might happen in six moons, ten years from now or even later, but it will happen in my lifetime at a time when I am recognised as the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, the protector of the realm. I didn't see the outcome of the fight." Jon stopped and waited for their reactions.

"Are we to understand this vision was not confirmed by anything young Bran or Lord Reed saw?" Davos looked troubled by all he had heard.

"Not that particular one no. Bran saw their leader only when he held the baby. He could confirm I was the hero born to defeat him. He also confirmed I would only have a chance once I was a King in my own right. He felt the exact same words as I did: 'A King to defeat a King.' He did see something that gives us leave to me hope. He had a vision of me, wearing a crown atop of grey curls. If that is true ..."

"The Gods be praised." Ser Oswell exclaimed. "You should have led with that. If we know you will reign for many years then all of this, all this trouble with an undead enemy, is just a little delay on the road to our life's goal."

"Fifty thousand dead corpses all intent on murdering our future King so he will not take on their leader is not just a little delay. Not to mention he will need to return at some unknown time in the future and fight the same enemy all over again." Ser Gerold reprimanded Ser Oswell.

"The dead have a King." Sam mused thinking out loud apparently oblivious to the small altercation. "And he will fight you during the Long Night, in darkness. That would fit the northern tales. You fighting him with fire present, well Azor Ahai had a flaming sword. Both tales end with the hero defeating this mighty enemy, Jon." His voice rose higher when he pronounced his last words and he looked up at the others with hope in his eyes.

"But this is no tale, Sam. This is fucking reality." Jon heard himself swear but didn't pause to apologise. "If I fail, if I make one stupid mistake." He shuddered. "Then there is my cousin's vision of me attending King Robert's deathbed."

"Come again?" Davos leaned across the table covering Lannisport with his weather worn hands.

"That was the primary reason they summoned me. Bran had a greendream of King Robert lying in a bed in his royal chambers. The man was dying. My uncle, Ned Stark was in attendance but had his head bowed. Bran could not distinguish whether he was older than he is now. But more troublesome, Bran described a young man kneeling on the ground holding the King's hand in his. Since he was positioned on the opposite side of the bed, Bran Stark could only see his back."

"Then it is not certain it was you." Ser Arthur ventured.

"I asked my little cousin to describe what the man was wearing. He saw my black curls. He described my coat including the pattern on my fur collar. He even told me the colour of my belt and my boots. It was me. Somehow, I cannot explain how or why but somehow I feel deep down that this will come to pass, that I will be part of that scene. My cousin outdid himself with his description. I am certain it was me."

Jon voice was getting desperate. He looked at Davos with beseeching eyes. "I was holding the King's hand and knelt before him. It was me. I know it was me." He repeated.

"Calm down, son." Davos said his voice soothing. He had resumed his former position and leaned against the back of his chair. "Let us just try to look at this from all angles." A deep frown appeared on his forehead. He looked deep in thought.

Everyone waited for him to speak.

"Let us first concentrate on all the positives. If the vision proves true, your uncle Ned is still alive when the King is on his death bed. We have been worried about his safety lately. You should hear the rumours in King's Landing. We are cutting it close, Jon, if you are still going to give the fight at Hardhome precedence."

Sam looked up now. "Of what did he die? Do you now that, Jon? Was he sick, was he attacked, did he have an accident?"

"How would I know, Sam? I told you all I know. Except for the fact that the King had a night cap covering his hair."

"Just asking." Sam muttered. "What other positives do you derive from this situation, Ser Davos?"

"Well, our Prince arrived at the Red Keep alive and well and apparently was on was good terms with the Baratheon King." Noticing Jon's questioning look he added. "Kneeling beside a man's deathbed and holding his hand is most likely an act of compassion, not one of a subject swearing fealty to a monarch, my Prince."

"Of course he would never submit to the Baratheon usurper!" Ser Oswell burst out.

"He might to save the lives of his loved ones, of the smallfolk if they were threatened." Ser Arthur remarked looking at his brothers. "We all know our Prince's kind heart."

"But we do not know how far away in the future this might happen or whether this might come to pass precisely so." Sam cautioned. "Lord Reed often warns us not to take these things literally. This particular vision was one only young Bran Stark experienced right? Can it be that your cousin confused a common dream with a greendream?" Sam turned to Jon looking a bit apologetic for daring to suggest such a thing.

"Not in this instance. My cousin had several visions at once. That one occurred midway through uh during several flashes that leave no doubt it was no ordinary dream. Besides, you feel the difference between a normal dream and a greendream. Trust me on that. I know this all too well."

Sam nodded. "Just asking. I wanted to make sure. Then we better try to derive the most of it."

"Perhaps our Prince has already been crowned King and Robert Baratheon is a captive, dying of his injuries sustained when he was overthrown. Our compassionate Prince has agreed to let him spend his last hours in his own quarters." Ser Arthur suggested.

"That doesn't feel right somehow." Jon muttered. "Anyway, all these revelations and subsequent feelings and premonitions I had about this made me accept the offer of Lord Reed to learn some techniques to encourage and prolong these so-called messages that the Gods send me personally. That is the reason I stayed a whole day longer."

"You said Bran had several visions during a single session. Anything else we should know about?" Davos wanted to know.

Jon glad to focus on something else released a deep breath. "Perhaps. Bran was kind of an eye witness to a scene from the past where Littlefinger handed a small bottle with Tears of Lys, the poison that killed Lord Arryn over to Lady Lysa. The fact that he mentioned the poison by name makes me believe it might be a warning from the Gods. Perhaps Varys should make sure Maester Pycelle does not have other bottles of that stuff lying around for someone to use. He should be forbidden to make more."

"I'll write to Varys today." Sam promised. "That is indeed a wise precaution. Perhaps we should regulate the use of poison by royal decree once you are King, Jon."

"You can regulate all you want. Prince Oberyn will not be bothered by it in the least." Ser Arthur remarked.

Several surprised pair of eyes now stared at Ser Arthur.

"Don't tell me you don't know he sometimes dabbles with potions and poisons for all kinds of purposes." He added rolling his eyes.

"We have issues enough to handle for now. No use in wasting time debating royal decrees to be issued in the future. Besides Prince Oberyn is firmly on our side." Davos interfered. "Anything else you learned at Greywater Watch, Jon?"

"Aside from telling me how in love my parents were and how lovely my mother looked on her wedding day and the confirmation that the Mad King indeed threatened the capital's destruction by wildfire as Jaime Lannister told me, there was this vision of the leader of the White Walkers."

"The Night King," Sam offered.

"Night King?" Jon turned to his friend.

"Well, you said it yourself. A King to defeat a King and he is a creature that is strongest at night and wants to bring the Long Night. So I thought it an easier term than the Commander of the White Walkers or the General of the Dead." Sam smiled hesitantly.

"All right, let us call him the Night King." Jon granted Sam this small victory. "Now back to Bran's vision. This Night King had a healthy baby boy in his arms and touched the child's cheek with an icy finger upon which the child became an icy creature with blue eyes."

"A baby wight?" Ser Oswell asked perplexed.

"No not a wight. More like a baby White Walker." Jon explained.

"Craster's male offspring!" Davos thumped his fist on the table making Lannisport shake. "I bet most of these White Walkers are related to that vile daughter-rapist."

"So are you saying that if they do not kill humans, they can turn them into icy creatures like themselves?" Ser Arthur asked.

"I think so, but hopefully only this Night King has such strong magic." Jon hesitated to say more.

"Perhaps they can only do it with new-borns." Sam ventured. "They still have a clean slate, haven't learned any behaviour yet, do not have a memory or the awareness to recognise an enemy and protect their minds."

"That knowledge doesn't really help us though." Ser Gerold shook his head.

"Perhaps it does." Davos told him. "It reveals a weakness. They cannot procreate. Their numbers are limited."

"And the Free Folk should protect their new-borns." Sam chimed in.

"That reminds me, Tormund just became a father. He has a son and has the intention to call him Jon when the infant reaches his second nameday." Jon smiled.

"I am trying to picture it." Ser Arthur spoke up, his eyes having a faraway look. "A tiny redhaired baby in those giant hands."

"He had no qualms in grabbing it from its mother's arms and didn't lower his voice, both acts startling the small baby and Tormund's only reaction was to laugh proudly when his son started crying rather loudly. It was indeed an uncommon picture." Jon relaxed glad for the short reprieve.

"Have you finished your report, my Prince? You can tell us more about Tormund's child later, or during mealtime. Any other visions?" Ser Gerold prodded.

"Nothing that affects our cause." Jon answered. "I think that concludes my report. The important thing is that I need to get back to Eastwatch or rather Hardhome and help prepare the traps before the enemy arrives. Can you hold the fort here for another moon?"

"Eddard Stark will not be best pleased, Varys neither."

"You can include me on that list." Ser Gerold remarked. "My Prince, the rumours are growing. We have gathered plenty of support. Give us two more sennights and we will have support in abundance for you in King's Landing as well as organised a line of defense within the walls of the Red Keep itself. Are you sure you cannot not take the throne and return to the North as the newly crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms? Perhaps you can challenge this Night King right there and then, make him come out of hiding and defeat this enemy once and for all."

"What if complications arise? What if I am crowned, leave the next day and we cannot appease the smallfolk, the nobles who are still deciding? What if Stannis Baratheon uses my absence to his advantage?"

"I am inclined to agree with our Prince." Davos challenged Ser Gerold's suggestion. "According to me the best case scenario is that our Prince flies north and defeats the fifty thousand that are attacking. Then he returns within two sennights from leaving and takes the throne. We all help him secure the Seven Kingdoms. All the while, the Free Folk monitor the situation beyond the Wall and we fight against this Night King and his army with the combined support of the Seven Kingdoms."

"We need not decide this very minute." Jon tried to make them see reason and continue the meeting. "Fill me in on the political situation here first. I expect Varys to arrive within the next few days. Perhaps everything will work itself out. They are distracted in King's Landing since they are in the midst of preparing a large tournament, aren't they?" Jon asked Ser Gerold.

"They are. It was a good cover for us to invite more allies into the city without raising suspicion." Ser Gerold took out a scroll and began enumerating the extent of the support already in place and what they were still working on.

Jon did his best trying to follow the major names but some were entirely new to him. "Perhaps we can go over them the next few days in detail? I want to study the background and allies of each one of them so I know how to comport myself when I meet them."

"Commendable." Davos nodded his head in apparent approval. "We will all help you with the ones we know best. We hail from different parts of Westeros. Use it to your advantage."

"Yohn Royce can't leave the capital but will send a delegation of Vale knights to meet you." Ser Oswell remarked. "We will need to be careful. All these nobles we are expecting over the next few days might be spotted."

"That has been arranged. Some are supposedly visiting relatives, the others are coming to the Driftmark or Dragonstone under the pretext that they heard the blacksmiths here are competent and the ones in King's Landing can't keep up with the extra business of all the knights either shopping for the right armour for the tournament or needing some adjustments made to their current armour at the last moment."

"The tournament," Jon asked clearly interested. "When will it be held?"

"Don't even think about it, lad." Davos shook his head. "We already had to talk sense into Ser Arthur. He wanted to participate as mystery guest in a disguise. He talked of painting his hair blue and posing as an Essosi knight."

"I was only joking." Ser Arthur muttered.

"For the most part perhaps." Ser Gerold retorted. "Don't tell us you wouldn't go the moment you thought you could get away with it."

"Can't he though?" Jon looked thoughtful.

"No, Jon." Ser Arthur was the one to put an end to his own dreams. "I would be recognised the first time they saw me fight. I do not want to boast but, …"

"I get it." Jon said. "You are right. Eighteen years is not that long and you were, I mean are a legend. You only have to wait for the first tournament under the new Targaryen reign. I promise not to compete myself. Wouldn't want to compromise your chances. " Jon said that last sentence in a mocking tone.

Ser Gerold rolled his eyes. "I can still beat either of you in the joust easily. And don't forget Ser Oswell's achievements. Now, can we get back to the order of the day? Let us finish discussing the situation in King's Landing. We can talk about the Stormlands, the Reach and Dorne another day."

"And go over the lists of the support we expect from the Kingdoms that have already joined our cause." Davos chimed in.

"And hope there is still some daylight left by the time we finish so I can visit my dragons." Jon whispered to Sam.

"And before my fingers start cramping around this quill." Sam whispered back and both young men exchanged smiles.

"King's Landing then," Jon addressed Davos now. "Tell me about Uncle Ned. How are he and the King governing my Kingdoms?"

"Perhaps we should wait and discuss this when Varys is here. I expect him the day after tomorrow. Then we have a firsthand report." Davos suggested.

Jon nodded gratefully. "Excellent. Then we can adjourn this meeting after the announcement I still wanted to make."

Everyone looked at him expectantly.

"First of all, tomorrow I am not available for any meetings, be it a small council meeting or private audiences with recently arrived Lords and their families. I still intend to show up for my daily training session but afterwards I will accompany Princess Daenerys when she makes her rounds of the workshops here on Dragonstone. I will also visit the ships, meet with some of the crew. I intend to partake in the evening entertainment of the smallfolk. The bonfires on the beach." He added when Ser Gerold frowned. "I will remain alert and you can all join me on the beach if you deem it necessary for my protection."

"Count me in." Davos looked interested.

"I will go as well." Sam had stopped scribbling a while ago.

"And secondly, you may all congratulate me. The Princess Daenerys and I are betrothed. I asked her to marry me yesterday before supper and she accepted." Jon smiled broadly but his eyes were observing the reaction to his words closely.

"Damn," Ser Oswell cursed.

"Who won the bet?" Ser Gerold frowned.

"Varys, I think," Davos answered and chuckled. "Come on you twats, stop teasing and congratulate the boy already. He only gets betrothed to a lovely Princess once."

Chairs scraped over the stone floor when they all got up and hurried to the side of the table where Jon now beamed from ear to ear. He had never thought his announcement would be that easily accepted. The moment he got pulled from his chair and was caught in his first embrace he realised Sam was nowhere to be seen. Davos mushed up his hair, Ser Gerold patted his back, Ser Oswell shook his hand enthusiastically and Ser Arthur hugged him within an inch of his life."

"If you need any advice, don't go to these knights, lad. Just come to me. I can tell you all you need to know and then some." Davos chuckled.

When they finally retreated to their side of the table Jon's eyes turned back to the door and was relieved to see Sam returning. His friend carried a platter containing a pitcher filled with ale and five large beakers.

"I thought this merited a toast and I brought Jon's drink of choice." He smiled happily.

"Put that thing down, Sam. You owe me a congratulatory hug." Jon ordered.

Sam didn't hesitate. He asked Ser Arthur to do the honours and the two friends embraced. "I wish you all the luck in the realm, Jon. I am very happy for you. Does anyone else know?"

"Aside from Dany who might have told Ser Barristan, no. Some might suspect but nobody has been told official, present company excepted. We will not announce it yet. Dany and I want to marry after the Iron Throne has been restored to House Targaryen."

Jon looked at Davos when he said the next words. "We had been thinking to hold a joint wedding/coronation ceremony in the Grand Sept of Bailor. I will marry her before the Old Gods and a few witnesses in the Godswood the night before. We mean to keep that part private. You are all invited to the Godswood wedding of course but don't spread the word."

"My, my, how long have you been planning this?" Ser Gerold exclaimed. "Too bad though. If you had acted a bit sooner, I might have won the bet.

---

That afternoon Jon sat on the throne where many a Prince of Dragonstone had held court and gestured for the first visitors to be allowed to enter the Great Hall. This time, the Great Hall was empty except for Ser Arthur who stood before the throne slightly to Jon's right, Ser Oswell identically positioned to his left and the houseguards posted at every entrance. The large doors opened and an elderly man accompanied by a middle aged couple approached and bowed before the steps of his throne.

After leaving the room with the painted table, Jon had opted to lunch quietly in his quarters with only Sam for company. Sam had used the opportunity to brief him about the visitors that would be brought before him that afternoon. The first ones to have been granted an audience with the Prince of Dragonstone was Lord Celtigar, head of House Celtigar of Claw Isle. Sam had informed him how the elderly man was connected to Jon's foster-grandmother.

"The current Lord Celtigar is named after his ancestor, Alton Celtigar who served as Hand of the King to Aegon the Conqueror. Your foster-grandfather was his uncle but as you know your foster-grandfather was only a third son and left Claw Isle when he married the daughter of Lord Velaryon. The young Lord opted to live with his wife at the Driftmark. House Celtigar of Claw Isle is a very rich house. What might interest you is that they possess an axe of Valyrian steel. The Lord is accompanied by his son Adrian Celtigar and his good-daughter. Apparently the couple has five children four girls and one boy but the children stayed behind on Claw Isle."

Jon straightened his back and closely studied the approaching elderly Lord looking for some resemblance with the vague picture he had of his foster-grandfather who had died when Jon was still rather young.

"Lord Alton Celtigar at your service, my King." The frail looking Lord bowed and needed his son's help to regain his normal standing position.

"Allow me to present my son, Lord Adrian Celtigar and his wife Elinda formerly of House Massey."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Celtigar. It is nice to meet relatives of my foster-grandparents. But please, address me as 'my Prince' for now. I am not a King yet." Jon was getting a bit tired of hearing himself repeat this sentence here at Dragonstone. He should ask Davos, or Sam to warn the visitors of the correct way that he wished to be addressed for now.

"If we had known you needed sanctuary so shortly after you were born, we would have been glad to take you in, my Prince. We would have given you surroundings fit for a King instead of"

"I was happy and could live in complete anonymity at the Driftmark." Jon cut him off before the man could disparage the loving home he had found at the Driftmark. "It was a very good solution. An ideal spot to raise my dragons and the people there were and still are extremely loyal to me. It is in the past anyway and everything turned out well." Jon's polite smile was a bit forced.

"What is done is done." Lord Celtigar agreed. "If there is anything we can do to contribute to your cause now, just say the word. All we have is at your disposal."

"That is a very generous offer. I'll be sure to keep that in mind. I thank you Lord Celtigar. Now tell me, is it true that House Celtigar is the owner of a magnificent axe made of Valyrian steel?" Jon leaned a bit forward.

"We are, your Grace. But we have much more beautiful treasures. I have brought a few rubies as a gift to decorate your armour. That way it can be just like your father's, Prince Rhaegar."

The head of House Celtigar handed Ser Arthur a small velvet bag and Ser Arthur in turn approached his Prince and handed him the precious objects. Jon put one ruby in the palm of his hand to admire it up close. It was a thing of beauty and there were at least eight similar stones inside the small pouch. He wondered just how rich House Celtigar actually was.

"I thank you, Lord Celtigar. I appreciate the thoughtfulness even more than the beauty of the gift. "I will make sure they will adorn my new still to be forged armour and will ask the blacksmith to incorporate them at the exact same spots as red rubies that once adorned the armour of my excellent father."

Jon put the ruby back with the others in the velvet pouch and handed it to Ser Arthur again.

"Might I ask for a favour, Lord Celtigar? Would you be willing to send for the axe? I would like to admire it up close."

His son frowned when Jon made the request but the elderly Lord Celtigar once more made a painfully looking bow and promised to send a raven to Claw Isle immediately.

At that moment, footsteps echoed in the Great Hall and Jon looked up to see Davos approach his throne and mount the steps. The knight whispered in his Prince's ear that it was time to receive the next delegation.

Jon rose from his throne to signal the end of the interview. "I hope you have a pleasant stay at Dragonstone, my Lords and my Lady. I am sorry to cut the interview short but several others are awaiting an audience with me."

The elder Lord Celtigar, his son and the latter's wife bowed one last time to the Targaryen Prince and followed Davos who led the way to the large doors.

Lord Daeron Vaith, Lord of the Red Dunes and Lord Walter Wyl of the Boneway request an audience, my Prince," Davos announced when the next visitors entered.

---

Interlude 30: The Viper and the Queen of Thorns

Prince Oberyn looked forward to getting off the ship. This was the last time he travelled this far by boat if he could help it. He had already run out of most of his jokes and stunts to tease his fellow passengers with before they were even halfway. The captain had reprimanded him and warned the Prince more than once that nobody would be willing to keep him company anymore if he kept up his current behaviour. Oberyn had tried to act a bit more circumspect for the rest of the journey and with the exception of a limited number of rewarding pranks he had mostly kept his word even if as a result he had been bored as the Seven Hells.

He fondly remembered using one of his potions to remove the inhibitions of his fellow travellers on their first evenings on the boat and had learned many secrets. A bonus had been that he had also discovered a potential male lover that way and had at least been able to satisfy his carnal needs during his long forced confinement. Not having much in way of other distractions, the Prince had finished every book he had brought with him in no time and had swindled his co-travellers out of the ones they had brought along.

Finally things were looking up now. They had almost arrived. He looked forward to his reunion with Ellaria, his paramour. He was sure she would be eagerly awaiting his arrival as well. He had sent word to Varys by means of one of the special ravens he had brought along with him on the ship.

Almost instantly he had regretted his decision of travelling directly to King's Landing to win a few meagre days. The better choice would have been to travel alongside Davos Seaworth and Ser Arthur. They at least could have kept him entertained with stories of their years with the Targaryen Prince. Prince Oberyn for some reason had grown very fond of the young man. He had been counting the days until he could leave this floating trap behind and could start helping the Targaryen cause again. The opportunity came sooner than expected.

Finally safely moored at the docks of the capital, he had not taken more than a few steps ashore before he was accosted by a servant. The man offered to take his bags and promised to escort him and his belongings to an inn where a Lady waited for him. Prince Oberyn only too willing to accept his offer nodded with a broad smile on his face and asked the servant to hurry.

The smile left his face the very moment he entered the small establishment. Instead of falling into the long awaited loving arms of his paramour, he looked into the wrinkled face and cunning eyes of the Queen of Thorns.

"Please be seated, Prince Oberyn. I ordered the finest wine available in this establishment. Come now, join me. We need to talk."

Lady Olenna Tyrell sat on a modest looking chair, her back straight, her elaborate dress carefully arranged about her, one hand leaning stately on an exquisite carved walking stick. Prince Oberyn took in her stately posture making the mental note that she treated the simple wooden chair exactly as she would the Iron Throne. 'Not that the old shrew would ever get near it. Certainly not while he drew breath!'

"My Lady, although you may be right, forgive me for being blunt and state my disappointment. I was looking for someone else to greet me after such a long voyage. Can our encounter not be delayed for a day at least so I can greet my paramour who is bound to be even more eager to see me than you are." He needed all his self-control to mask the extent of his dismay and disillusionment.

"Sit down, Prince Oberyn. If you keep standing about like that you are causing an old lady a stiff neck." When she saw him stiffen at her commanding tone, she changed tactics.

"Come now, this won't take long. The sooner you sit down, the sooner you can leave here and find … her." She wrinkled her nose and sniffed disapprovingly.

Prince Oberyn ignored the slight, used to people condemning his long standing affair with a Dornish bastard. "I might as well grant you your request and will even admit to being curious. I didn't know we were on such good terms for you to go to such great length as to seek me out at the docks."

He sat down and accepted a glass of wine. "Just the one glass though," he warned her and took a sip. "This is indeed excellent wine. Much better than what I was forced to drink on the ship. May I enquire as to how you knew I was arriving today?" He sat back. Now that he had decided to oblige her, he was already looking for ways to play with her and to get some naughty pleasure out of this encounter.

"Varys was so kind as to answer my questions. On this subject at least." She pursed her lips. Clearly Varys had not done her the courtesy of obliging her very often.

"Now what can I do for you, Lady Tyrell? As stated, I have not much time for inanities." He studied her closely. She seemed tense somehow and he was sure it was not solely caused by the elusiveness of the Master of Whispers. Surely she must be long used to the eunuch's elusive ways.

"I gather you have met my grandsons in the North. I just want you to tell me what is going on over there and why my Loras is so intent on staying there. Has he found a new flame?"

"I had the pleasure to meet both your grandsons at Winterfell. I hardly recognised them. Our houses do not frequent each other all that regularly, wouldn't you agree?" He smiled charmingly.

Prince Oberyn could see small hints of her building irritation. The knuckles of her left hand holding her cane had turned white, her other hand was clenching the cup filled with wine to the brim a bit too tight. He hoped the innkeeper had used his sturdiest beaker. On the other hand, perhaps he should wish for the opposite? He needed to conceal his smile at the image of her crushing the beaker and spilling the red wine on her lavish, old fashioned but rather expensive looking gown.

"I thought you had no time for games, Prince Oberyn." She had narrowed her eyes slightly. "Do you have any idea what is so interesting in the North that Loras is so adamant to stay there? At least Willas has recently left Winterfell and is on his way home."

Prince Oberyn tapped his lower lip with his finger pretending to be deep in thought. "Well, as far as I know, Prince Renly is in the North. Isn't that incentive enough for your youngest grandson to stay put?"

"Why were you in the North, Prince Oberyn? I do not tell me some bullshit about travelling and sightseeing. Are you man enough to come out and declare that you are in league with House Stark?" She had put her cup down rather forcefully without having taken even the tiniest sip. A bit of red liquid stained the otherwise pristine white cloth the innkeeper must have brought out on her demand because the other tables wore no such cover.

"I consider myself a friend of House Stark. But mind you, I speak for myself. I speak neither for my brother nor for the Principality of Dorne." He enjoyed reminding her that her sons were mere Lords as opposed to the princely status of House Martell.

"Why did you befriend House Stark if your brother does not follow suit?" The reply was curt but Oberyn could sense her frustration, it was almost tangible.

"Haven't your grandsons written to you about some of what is happening in the North? Hasn't Varys or Lord Stark been able to persuade you of the merit of an alliance with House Stark yet? Are you really so headstrong, so unwilling to take a small risk? Are you so blind you cannot see a once in a lifetime opportunity when it presents itself?" He challenged her.

She merely waved away his barbs and proceeded with her interrogation. "Have you heard of a certain Lord Celtigar my grandsons have encountered in the North?"

"Of course I have. He is a most amiable young man. I have known him for several years now." Prince Oberyn smiled making a show of giving her the impression that he was reminiscing and it were all rather delightful memories that he conjured up.

"Did you see him during your recent visit in the North?" She asked tersely glaring at him without blinking.

"As a matter of fact, I did have that pleasure." He drew his words out. Prince Oberyn no longer regretted being held up by Lady Olenna. He was starting to enjoy himself immensely. He drank deeply from his cup, put the almost empty beaker slowly back on the table and smiled indulgingly at her.

"My Loras has sworn his life away to that man." Lady Olenna answered after a pause. He could hear the exasperation in her voice.

"I wouldn't call it that, my Lady. I never thought I would say this, but your youngest grandson is the smarter Tyrell apparently. Before hearing this news, I would have put my coin on Lord Willas."

"Why are you so sure that Loras did a smart thing?" She had toned down the bitch act somewhat. Prince Oberyn might even have witnessed the early stages of pleading.

"I can't tell you much. You should ask your grandsons. What I can tell you is that Lord Celtigar is an honourable man. Don't be misled by his name. What matters is that he is closely allied to House Stark. And for some reason, his word carries weight with the Hand of the King, Eddard Stark. He has many allies, many powerful friends and I am proud to call him a dear personal friend." He had talked to her as a teacher would to a student, his attitude bordering on being condescending.

"And apparently Loras and Willas both fell for his schemes." There was no mistaking the bitterness in her tone of voice now.

"Why do you think the man is scheming? Not everyone is like you and me." He responded. "Did you not hear me when I told you he is most honourable? Hells, if you saw him, you might mistake him for a scion of House Stark."

He cursed himself inwardly the moment these words left his lips. He saw her facial expression change. The cunning look appeared once more though she tried to mask it with her next words. "This Lord Celtigar has persuaded our Loras somehow to give him precedence above his own house." She once more accused the Lord she had never met.

"Knowing this Lord Celtigar, and make no mistake, I know him well, he will never ask Loras to turn against his kin. All this time playing the game, Lady Olenna and you are still on the fence." Prince Oberyn shook his head in mock disappointment. "Tut, tut, tut, I would have expected more of you. I reckon your granddaughter still isn't betrothed? No? Nor are any of your grandsons?" He shook his head and took delight in the deep frown that appeared on her already rather wrinkled forehead. "Be wary, indecision like that might make you miss some excellent opportunities. Soon it will be too late, Lady Olenna. And here I thought you were known as the Lady of Thorns. Old age has finally caught up with you it seems." He mocked her to his heart's content.

Lady Olenna narrowed her eyes until they were mere slits. "Have you talked to Lord Eddard Stark?"

"Not in some time, my Lady. I have been confined on a floating prison with boring company for sennights. If you do not mind, I will take my leave from you now so I can go find my dear Ellaria. I sincerely hope her welcome will be a bit warmer and consist of fewer words." He smiled suggestively at her and rose with feline grace.

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture no longer making the effort to disguise her dismay at the outcome of their discussion.

Prince Oberyn bowed and left the inn knowing he had revealed just enough to let her know he was in on a big secret. He hoped he had managed to convey the impression that if she felt left out, it was all her own doing. Perhaps that would finally wake her up and accept an alliance with House Stark. Lady Margaery needed to be taken off the marriage market before the Queen of Thorns got a whiff of the true identity of Lord Celtigar.

---

Ellaria's arms had been welcoming, very welcoming indeed and it had taken him two days before he made the effort to present himself at the court of the usurper. He had stayed just long enough to publicly accept the position on the small council in front of Robert Baratheon and a packed throne room before announcing he needed a sennight or perhaps two before he was able to attend his new duties. When the King ordered him to explain himself further, Prince Oberyn had smiled demurely and stated some personal matters needed to be seen to first since he had spent moons travelling the Northern Kingdom. Surely his Grace would understand?

The Dornish Prince and his paramour had left King's Landing, and had stepped on a small boat he had hired solely for this purpose, not disclosing to anyone where they went until they had left the harbour. Varys was the only one who knew of his destination. The Master of Whispers had given him many messages to read from the True King. Prince Oberyn had also been tasked to relay that Lord Varys would follow him to Dragonstone in two days' time.

Prince Aegon would be delighted to hear the steps he had undertaken to provide an adequate teacher for the Arya Stark. Instead of offering up one of his Sand Snakes, he had sent for the former First Sword of Braavos. He knew that the master fencer's water dancing style would suit the little cousin of the Targaryen Prince very well. Even more important, Syrio Forel would have no qualms in teaching a little girl as long as she was properly motivated and he was adequately recompensed for it. He had written Robb Stark to warn him of the swordfighter's arrival.

To Robb of House Stark, heir of Winterfell, temporary regent of the North
Lord Stark,
Soon Syrio Forel, an Essosi master fencer with extraordinary credits will be knocking on the gates of Winterfell. I have hired him to teach your lady sister, Arya Stark a swordfighting style best suited to her physique. This was done on the express demand of Lord Celtigar. If your Lady Mother objects, tell her our mutual royal friend will have no trouble persuading your Lord Father and Hand of the King that your youngest sister would thrive in Dorne and that he will most surely persuade Lord Eddard Stark to send her little Arya for a long fostering term to Dorne with immediate effect.
Prince Oberyn of House Martell, the Red Viper

This time Oberyn didn't mind being trapped on a boat once again. It was only for two days and Ellaria would see to it he hardly noticed his surroundings anyway. Besides, he would soon see Prince Aegon again and also his dear youth friend, Ser Arthur. In the meanwhile he mulled over all he had learned from Varys and the contents of the Targaryen Prince's messages. Ripples of the rumours caused by the revelations after Robb's rescue were reaching the capital. Soon the usurper would learn of a dragonrider that had a claim to the Iron Throne but more importantly that his former betrothed had been the one to give Prince Rhaegar this precious son. The conspiracy was living on borrowed time.

It was a challenge but Prince Oberyn would do everything he could to buy the Targaryen Prince the necessary time to be able to conclude his quest in the North. He had already come up with a few possible schemes and conferred with Varys. The eunuch had been on board straightaway with one of the more daring versions of his scheme, confessing he had been preparing a similar plan in secret.

They both were of the opinion it was better to do this on their own and inform neither Prince Aegon nor his entourage. They also would make certain they took any measure necessary to prevent the Hand of the King from catching the slightest hint of what they were preparing. If all went well, the honourable Targaryen Prince and the stiff morally correct Hand of the usurper would be happy with the outcome and never know the true extent of the involvement of the ones they trusted as their closest allies.

And Prince Oberyn counted himself as Prince Aegon's closest ally. Someone needed to protect the young idealistic, honourable Targaryen Prince from himself. Every ruler needed someone to take care of the dirtier business. And what Prince Aegon didn't know, wouldn't keep him up at night. It also provided the True King with the opportunity to deny any accusations levied at him with absolute honesty. He wouldn't have to feign his outrage at such accusations. Nobody would suspect that dear boy of foul play. It would all turn out for the best. The young Targaryen should bless the day Prince Oberyn of House Martell condescended to join his cause. That had been a very lucky day for all involved.

One small thing he had already put in motion without waiting for Varys' advice. A trusted messenger, one of the team of messengers that had been carrying out little errands for the conspiracy over the years, had been dispatched to intercept Willas Tyrell. Prince Oberyn hoped the man was able to reach the port of the Riverlands in time. It would be very opportune to catch up with the Tyrell heir at Seagard and have him make a little detour.

He stood at the railing with his arm around Ellaria's shoulder when the rough coastline of Dragonstone came into view. The Gods had been good lately to Prince Oberyn. And if he had any say in it, things would only get better from here on out. The days of the usurper's reign were finally up.

---

End notes:
The next chapter covers Jon's last days on Dragonstone before flying north to battle against the dead.
In the interlude, Yohn Royce assists with tournament preparations in King's Landing