AN: Thank you all for the nice reception!

81: Thank you!

Hitman: Well, your magic worked.

Jon II

A few days had passed. Jon watched the princess whenever he could, his eyes rarely straying from her. He watched her when she was outside in the garden, by the marble pool. He watched her when she was on the terrasse, her gaze focusing on nothing. He watched her when she was with her brother, small, meek and docile. Viserys had yet to raise his hand against Daenerys, but Jon knew that he could have done so in the privacy of their chambers. If he did, then he left no marks.

Now, Jon was accompanying her for another leisurely walk through the garden in the cooling evening air.

"Our niece – your sister – will arrive on the morrow," Daenerys said, her voice like a gentle breeze caressing his skin. "Rhaenys. I thought it a cruel jest when we received the letter from Dorne. I thought her dead."

Jon swallowed thickly as lead settled in his stomach. Rhaenys Targaryen, the only surviving child in that cursed room. No one spoke of it, but everyone knew of the atrocities Gregor Clegane had committed: Little Aegon Targaryen's head crushed against a wall and Elia Martell raped with her son's blood still on the Mountain's hands before she was almost cleaved in half.

He shivered. However she had done it, Rhaenys had escaped a most terrible death.

"You know what happened to them, do you not?" Jon asked Daenerys, his voice thick.

"I do. Everyone does." Her voice hardened. "And yet, the Lannisters, the Usurper and everyone else involved in the massacre of my family holds power; they all live their lives in comfort." Like Valyrian steel did her voice cut through the night. "As if they had done something worthy of celebration. Butchering babes and women."

Jon felt terrible for not feeling as terrible as Daenerys. His parentage aside, he felt little to no connection to Aegon and Rhaenys. Lord Eddard Stark had raised him as his own, so his siblings were all living in Winterfell. The injustice done to Elia Martell and Prince Aegon was horrifying and he acknowledged that, but he couldn't feel the same anguish for a lost brother the way Daenerys felt it for a lost nephew. It made him feel guilty.

"Are you alright, Jon?"

He glanced at her. "Yes."

"I do not know you for long, but I have come to learn that you are a terrible liar. You would also be terrible at anything cloak-and-dagger," she added with a smile. "I must find many new dresses, for your eyes have burned holes in most of my wardrobe – and I do not have much, to begin with."

His face heated up immediately. "I-I apologize! I didn't mean to –"

"Hush, Jon," Daenerys said, chuckling. "It endears you to me that you care so much for my wellbeing...I trust that my wellbeing was your motivation and not something untoward."

"No! That – I would not dishonour you so!" His face felt even hotter than it did mere moments ago while his aunt dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"I know, nephew, I know," Daenerys said between giggles. "I jest." She then sighed. "But we are Targaryens. My mind is cruel and makes me wish that I could give my maidenhead to a nephew who appears to care for me, rather than being forced to give it to a barbarian warlord who raids villages, pillages homes and rapes women for sport."

To his shame, his breeches suddenly felt tighter as he looked away.

"Are you excited to see your sister on the morrow?" Daenerys asked suddenly, surprising him with this abrupt change of topics.

Sister. He had two sisters in Winterfell. He had grown up with them, used to see them every day. Now, however, he had another.

"I dread it," he answered honestly.

"Oh?"

"Our father shamed her mother with my mother," Jon said. "Everything befalling her family and yours – it all began with Prince Rhaegar's and my mother's dalliance." He had to laugh at a thought, though it lacked any humour. "Being Ned Stark's bastard son was so much easier than this."

"Jon." She put a hand on his shoulder. "We are family. We share the blood of the dragon – you, Rhaenys, Viserys and I. It is time you begin to accept your Targaryen heritage and stop talking about her family or my family. This tragedy also befell your family." Her violet eyes hardened and her nails dug into his shoulder through his tunic. "The Usurper struck down my brother – your father – and the mountain massacred my good-sister and nephew – your brother. A babe. Always remember this when you talk about my family. The dead also shared your blood."

Tongue-tied, Jon could only give her a shaky nod.

After releasing his shoulder, Daenerys resumed her walk, Jon silently next to her. When her brother wasn't near, she had a different presence about her. Still quiet, still subdued, but...she was more of a person. She was...alive. From what he had seen, in her brother's presence, it felt like he shackled her in a dark dungeon and hid the keys away. Only when deemed necessary would Daenerys see the light of day.

But, without Viserys, Daenerys was always there.

He was nervous. His finger kept tapping against the tabletop. His throat felt like closing up, his stomach was unsettled.

Like a butterfly touch, Daenerys's fingers graced over his leg, hidden from Viserys's eyes. She most likely knew how nervous he was and wanted to calm him. It didn't help.

The ship had arrived at the bay and Ser Jorah had gone to pick up Princess Rhaenys and her guardian, a Dornishmen. Jon hadn't been given the name of the guardian, but it was now obvious that Rhaenys had been hidden somewhere in Dorne. It would only make sense that it had been with a Martell.

Voices, coming from the entrance of the manse, reached them all the way on the terrasse.

He glanced at Daenerys. She was looking out and into the garden again. Sad, withdrawn, solemn. It was a distraction, seeing her like this. A brief reprieve from what was to come and come it did much too soon.

Several footsteps approached, led by the Magister's foul stench, prompting him, Daenerys and Viserys to stand up.

A tall, slender and very athletic man with tanned skin, thin eyebrows, a sharp nose and lustrous black hair looked all of them over, though his eyes lingered the longest on him, making Jon squirm.

Next to him was a young woman, maybe five and ten or six and ten of age. She had her arms crossed over her moderate chest and her skin was as tanned as the man's. Her hair was a light brown and fell in gentle waves, reaching just about her chin. She wore a light, silken, dress, coloured a dark blue, which stopped halfway past her calves, revealing a bit of the smooth skin of her legs. Her sharp gaze also lingered the longest on him.

If the sun's heat had not already made him sweat he surely would have started to, under those two piercing gazes.

"My Prince and Princess Targaryen –" the man began, already halfway bowing, but Viserys interrupted him.

"You will address me as your King, Prince Martell."

Prince Martell? Could it be the famed Viper?

His eyes flashed dangerously, even through his bright, wide and easy smile. "Of course, your Grace. Allow me to introduce myself and my lovely niece. I am Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell and this is Princess Rhaenys Targaryen."

"Your Grace, Princess...brother." Her tone was biting and her dark eyes lingered on him once more. "I cannot express how delightful it is to see all of you. For the longest time, I had feared the worst for my father's bloodline – for the Targaryen bloodline."

"Fear no longer, sweet niece," Viserys said with a bright grin. "I will restore our house and pride."

"By selling your sister to the leader of a group of thieves, murderers and rapists?" Jon scoffed, earning himself a furious glare from Viserys while Daenerys looked defeated and humiliated. He felt bad for her, but he hoped for Oberyn Martell's honour. It was no secret that this man had fathered several bastard daughters and had raised them all to be famed and feared.

"I've heard about that. What's that about?" Rhaenys asked Viserys threateningly while Oberyn took a step towards the would-be king.

"Yes, King. Why are there these despicable rumours of you wanting to sell your sweet and lovely sister to a Dothraki Khal, hm?" He sounded less than impressed and that ignited a flare of hope in Jon.

Magister Illyrio quickly stepped in to Viserys's rescue. "Let us sit down and eat, shall we?"

Viserys huffed and turned before sitting down in his usual place at the table, as did the Magister, Ser Jorah, Daenerys and he. To his left, to Jon's surprise and dismay, Rhaenys sat down, smelling of wind, salty sea air and, very faintly, of sweat. At the other end of the table, across from the Magister, Oberyn sat down.

"So, you are Lyanna Stark's son." Oberyn leaned forward a bit to watch him. "The son of the woman who stole my sister's husband and who was the beginning of the rebellion that destroyed the Targaryen dynasty – the rebellion that killed my sister and nephew."

"Yes, Ser." What else could he say?

"It wasn't your fault, boy," Oberyn said. "Rhaegar was at fault as much as Lyanna was. And still...neither of them killed Elia."

"If that whore hadn't –"

"Enough, Rhaenys." Oberyn's tone was hard, cutting through his niece's words easily. Then, the wide smile returned. "You are making me look bad. I can't be the voice of reason here. Think of my reputation."

Jon could only look at his lap, his hands balled into fists. Not even a week had passed and he felt like he did not belong, the way he had often felt in Winterfell. There he was the bastard, the sole stain on Lord Eddard Stark's reputation. Here he was the result of the dalliance which was the beginning of the rebellion; a symbol to constantly, cruelly remind the Targaryen children of their house's darkest hour.

"I cannot and should not be held responsible for my parents' actions, Rhaenys," he finally said and looked at the young woman to his left. "They shamed your mother and for that, I apologize. But war or not, there was no reason to kill your mother and y– and Aegon. You know the ones responsible for that. My mother and our father are not among them. Neither am I."

"Hollow words. You still struggle to see yourself as part of our family, do you?" Rhaenys looked him over, her eyes calculating and as sharp as Valyrian steel. "You stumbled over your words. You wanted to say your brother instead of Aegon." Her dark eyes narrowed, she leaned closer to him. "Whether you like it or not, you are a Targaryen. Whether I like it or not, we are a family. I have accepted that as fact. You should too." She then leaned back a bit and rested an arm lazily on the table. "Let me tell you what they did to our brother. I dream of it every night. I was only two when that M-Monster killed him. I still remember it. I saw it. I heard it. I heard him cry and then I heard his skull being crushed against the wall and then he stopped. That sound when...I still hear it." She closed her eyes as a shiver washed over her. "It just went quiet. My mother stopped crying as well. She didn't make a sound when he raped her and when he nearly cut her in two. Who knows what they would've done to me had they looked under the bed…"

His mouth and throat felt dry.

"Tywin Lannister. Amory Lorch. Gregor Clegane. Robert Baratheon." Oberyn Martell looked at each of the Targaryens, him included. "Those are the ones who will answer for their crimes in the most painful and the most agonizing way possible."

"What about the Kingslayer?" Viserys asked. "He killed our father."

"Your father was a mad man. No offence," Oberyn said.

"Plus, Ser Jamie was the one who found and saved me," Rhaenys added and Jon couldn't hide his surprise. Neither could Daenerys, or Ser Jorah. "After Amory Loch and t-the M-Mountain took away my mother's and Aegon's bodies...he found me. He spirited me away with the Spider's help. The Spider hid me for days and weeks until my uncle arrived and took me to Dorne. At least that's what I've been told."

"The Kingslayer saved you," Ser Jorah said, clearly flabbergasted. "Ned Stark never told me."

"For now he is valuable, but he is just as likely to turn on us if it benefits his family. I made sure Lord Stark understands that." Oberyn then returned his attention to Viserys. "Cancel the wedding."

"I need an army!" Viserys's face turned such dark shades of red, it made Jon fear for his life. "This way she's at least good for something!"

"We do not whore out our precious girls," Oberyn said with a growl. "When is this Khal supposed to arrive?"

"Two days. One, if they do not stop to raid a village and rape its women," Master Illyrio said.

"A Targaryen. Married to barbarians and rapists. Disgusting." Oberyn turned to Daenerys. "Is that your wish, Princess?"

She looked almost startled at being addressed, jumping slightly. Then she made herself look smaller, seemingly trying to disappear. Jon saw her gaze wander from Oberyn, to Jorah, to the Magister until they stopped at her brother. Viserys shivered in suppressed anger, a vein clearly visible on his temple and his face an ugly red.

"Do not wake the dragon, Dany…"

His threat made her try to be even smaller, her eyes immediately moving away from him.

"You know what your uncle said to me, Prince Jon?" Oberyn asked as he stood up, grabbing a date from a tray a servant was bringing.

Jon shook his head. "I was not aware that you and he traded letters, Ser."

"We were surprised by Lord Stark's interest in the baby Targaryens as well. He said he trusts my judgement."

"Big mistake," Rhaenys said.

Oberyn grinned as he walked to Viserys, who looked at him with obvious suspicion. "Indeed, a very big mistake, my dear." He then looked at Daenerys again. "Say the word, Princess, and I will force him to release you from the marriage."

"He is my brother and he is to become king," Daenerys said softly. "I do not wish for him to be hurt."

"There you have it! I am your king!" Viserys shouted and got up while trembling like a leaf. "I would let every single one of those savages and their horses fuck her if it gets me my army!"

Half a gasp, half a sob – the shock and disgust was visible as something broke in Daenerys. A small hand searched for his under the table, desperately clinging to him for strength, support, help – Jon didn't know, but he wanted to provide it anyway.

Ser Jorah had now gotten up as well, a look of disgust and disappointment on his face. "This is your sister you are talking about, my King." It sounded as if just saying those words was painful now when it had flown out so easily just minutes and hours before.

"Princess?" Oberyn asked again.

She looked at her brother, then at the table, an empty plate now in front of her from the servant.

"You would betray your king for her?" Viserys hissed, his panic now audible in his voice.

"I am protecting an innocent girl, who also happens to be the Crown Princess," Oberyn said easily. "Who knows what those beasts would do to her."

"I…"

"Dany…" Viserys looked afraid. Was it an act? Was it real? Jon couldn't tell. "They will kill me!"

"Ridiculous." Oberyn grinned. "I will only kill you if you threaten the princess' lives."

Jon felt Rhaenys shifting a bit next to him, a hand under her skirt, which caused him to blush something fierce. His eyes bulged when her hand reappeared with a dagger. What did she want with that? He glances at Viserys, who appeared to look at the door.

Then, looking at Rhaenys, he shook his head at her smirk and turned to look at Daenerys before giving her hand an encouraging squeeze. "Say it, Aunt Daenerys. This is your chance!"

She glanced at him, gave the tiniest of nods and took a deep breath. "I don't want to marry the Khal."

"You heard her, King," Oberyn said, the mocking tone unmissable. "When the Khal arrives, you will tell him that there is no bride for him here. Understood?"

"The Khal will not like this," Master Illyrio said. "He will be very displeased."

Oberyn looked at him. "I am sure he can find another young, innocent girl. He has before."

Another late stroll through the garden was what Jon needed. Unfortunately, Daenerys wanted to retreat to her chambers because of the stressful day she had had. He understood, of course, but he had grown to enjoy their nightly walks.

"Jon."

He stiffened a bit as he turned around to come face to face with Rhaenys. She walked up to him, her steps those of a warrior-princess: graceful, yet sure, poised and confident.

"How may I help you, Princess?" he asked her, still wary of her.

She gave him an unimpressed look. "We are siblings."

"That appears to be the case only when it suits your fancy."

"Ouch." She started walking past him, then threw him a look over her shoulder. "Walk with me."

He sighed, then joined her. "So...is there anything you need?"

"It's difficult for you to accept everything, isn't it?"

"Yes," he admitted. "I was raised to be Lord Stark's bastard for all my life. I was raised to serve at the wall. I still feel like a bastard."

She threw him a sideways glance. "You are a royal bastard now."

Jon snorted, then laughed. "I like that." Then, with a sigh, he looked up at the clear sky. "They were married. It does not help me at all. I still feel like I was born a sin."

"In my eyes, you are." It stung, but he appreciated that Rhaenys did not honey her words. "Your mother bedded a married man. Married to my mother. Your mother's marriage to our father means nothing here. And you know everything that followed."

"I know."

"It's difficult for me to like you, Jon, but I will try."

"All I can ask of you."

Rhaenys turned to look at him. "I want to hate you and everything you stand for, but I do know that it would not be fair to you. It would be easier, but not fair." She then smiled at him, making her frown disappear and her face morph into the soft features of a beautiful, young woman. "You seem like a good man and Aunt Daenerys likes you. She doesn't seem like someone who'd trust easily."

"Viserys made sure of that," Jon said, his soft voice not hiding his anger.

"He's a piece of work. Does he have the madness?" Rhaenys asked, looking concerned.

"I thought of that as well, but from what Aunt Daenerys told me, he's just incredibly angry and bitter and takes it out on her." Jon shrugged. "They were so poor that they had to sell Queen Rhaella's crown."

"They had to sell grandmother's crown?" Rhaenys looked dismayed and genuinely saddened.

Queen Rhaella was also his grandmother, Jon noted with slight surprise. "Aye. That is what Aunt Daenerys said."

"You do know you are the rightful heir, do you?"

Jon took a step back. "I am no King."

"Yes, you are. Our father was the heir to grandfather. With...with Aegon dead, you are our father's last male descendant. You are the heir to the throne."

"I am just some bastard from Winterfell," Jon complained, his expression urging her to understand.

Rhaenys scoffed. "And I thought I was the one with the cunt, but you sound like you are missing your balls – bloody grow them already because I don't want Viserys on the throne. You are the next best choice."

Before Jon could complain again, the shrill scream of a young woman pierced the silence of the evening. Neither needing any prompting, they ran back towards the gate leading to the manse and almost flew up the stairs.

Inside of the mensa, Ser Jorah, Prince Oberyn and Magister Illyrio were all standing in front of Daenerys's chambers as her soft cries echoed through the building. Both of them got closer and, once they could look through the door, both gasped in shock.

In the middle of the room, on the ground, there was Daenerys, crying uncontrollably. A bruising imprint of a hand was on her throat, her nightgown was torn, showing a bare, bruised shoulder and a breast, as she cradled her brother's head on her lap with her blood-stained hands. Next to her was a bloodied dagger – if he squinted his eyes, it looked like the dagger Rhaenys had hidden under her dress – and Viserys...Viserys was on the ground, lying in his blood. His tunic was drenched in red. She must have stabbed him multiple times.

"Why, brother, why?!" Daenerys wailed, leaning forward and pressing her forehead against Viserys's as sobs wracked her small form. "Why?"

It was clear what had happened and questions were not needed. All they could do was to listen to Daenerys's broken heart.

It seems the Targaryen children had not suffered enough just yet, father.