JON SNOW
Seeing the Bolton cavalry charge towards him sent a wave of relief and acceptance in him. This was the end, his last, and he could finally rest. While there was sadness that Sansa and other humans would suffer, it was overridden by the feeling of elation. Ever since he had woken up, a part of him had felt missing. It was like he not come back completely. Sansa's arrival at the Wall had sparked something inside him, but that was too blown since then due to her words and behavior. He often couldn't help but imagine an elder version of her when she spoke, one which he hated with his entire being. Not knowing what else to do, he had thrown himself in the effort to reclaim Winterfell, despite how much he hated it now. The castle was never his home; the Starks ensured it. He had been so close to giving up when Sansa's entitlement came up in past days, but had instead carried on for Rickon, one of four people who had cared about him. His youngest brother was tiny when he had left Winterfell, but the smile on Rickon's face at seeing him last time had been enough for him. And now Rickon was dead.
Nodding to himself, his hands started moving. The scabbard's buckles and straps came out as he withdrew one of the few things he loved. Longclaw had seen him through a lot of things, but this was it's last. He was not sure what Ramsay would do with it, but he had a reasonably good idea. Getting into a stance, he sent a prayer out to his father, his siblings, and his mother, whoever she was. He knew she would forever be a mystery, as there was nothing but darkness after death.
Suddenly, a horn sounded somewhere right to him. With his army behind him, he was not sure who it was. Not that it would matter in a few seconds. The Bolton cavalry was less than 20 yards from him. Then, he felt something change as a tremor went through him and everything around. A roar, something primal, something he had only dreamed about, rang across the field. The horses in front of him seemed to panic as the charge seemed to slow.
He never knew why, but something made him throw himself back. A moment later, fire engulfed the line of horses in front of him. But this was not a single fire, instead a long trail of it, one which engulfed a large part of the line in front of him. Falling back on the ground, he didn't notice that there was no heat or uncomfortableness to him, despite being so close to the fire.
Soon after, the sound of horse racing reached him as the ground seemed to shake. He looked back to stop his army from marching, but that was not it. The cavalry from his army was in disarray some distance away from him, with a large number of men fallen on the ground. A shadow over him made him look up, and his breath hitched. A large green thing had flown above him, fire-spewing out of its mouth. Even though his mind refused to believe what he was seeing, he knew what it was. Dragons had once again arrived on the lands of Westeros.
Then, another sound joined all the rush, but this one overtook them all. Once again, this was a sound he had only read about and never expected to hear it. A turn of the head confirmed his thoughts. A wave of screaming, rough-looking horseriders crashed in the reforming Bolton cavalry, completely decimating it. He felt more than saw the same type of men smashing in Ramsay's infantrymen. Someone grabbed him and started pulling him back, but he couldn't remove his eyes from what was going on in front of him. The sounds of dragons roaring screams of men as they were burned alive and the screaming of Dothrakis seemed to fill up somehow.
Suddenly the person dragging him stopped. He looked around to see Tormund with his hands around him, but his large friend was not looking at him but in the air. A moment later he understood why. A roar nearly deafened him as a large cream, and gold-colored dragon dropped a few yards ahead of him. But it was not the dragon that made him lose his breath; instead, it was the black-haired woman riding it, a stunning woman, who was staring straight at him, no, not at him, but rather at the sword lying some distance from him. The dragon took a few steps towards it. The world around him slowed as her eyes moved from Longclaw to him, and both of them stared at each other. Then she broke the gaze and started looking around. A shout rang from her as she climbed down. He was sure now that she was from the south, maybe Reach or Dorne, by her dark complexion. She was not Daenerys Targaryen with the lack of silver hair. A doubt crept inside him as she turned to look at him once again, a smile on her face, purple eyes tearing up a little.
A movement from the corner of his got his attention. Men in helmets and carrying spear and shields surrounded all of them, but it was the man who walked next to the Dragonrider that truly shocked him. Ser Barristan was famous enough that his portraits had reached the libraries on Winterfell, even though they didn't do much justice to how he looked in real life. The Kingsgaurd, in his shining cloth, walked forward and picked up Longclaw, handing it back to the dark-haired woman.
Something soured inside him, seeing the woman casually handling his sword. He jumped up, but a moment later was back on his knees, this time due to the spears and the hands on his back.
"You will not move." A strong voice commanded.
Any reply of his was stopped when he saw the woman with his sword. She seemed to study Longclaw's pommel closely before nodding at Ser Barristan. The Kingsgaurd whispered in her ear, and a large smile appeared on her face. She walked towards him as the spears and hands moved from his back, stopping right in front of him. Both of them stared at each other, and he couldn't help but sneak a look at her rather revealing dress. It didn't go unnoticed as she giggled. Taking the offered Longclaw back, he was ready to ask some questions when she stepped up and took him a surprise hug.
"It's nice to see you, brother."
AEGON TARGARYEN
(5 DAYS BEFORE BATTLE OF BASTARDS)
Having sailed from Braavos a few hours ago, they were just sitting down for dinner when a knock interrupted them. With both his sister and aunt looking confused, he called for them to come inside. Varys entered soon after, a serious expression on his face.
"Your Graces, there is something you all need to know immediately."
Normally he would have asked the man to wait, but Varys was someone he had known for a long time, so he nodded and looked towards his wife, Daenerys Targaryen. She looked at Varys for a few seconds before asking Missandei and other handmaidens to leave the room. His wife had still not forgiven Varys for everything she had suffered.
"Lady Missandei can stay, your grace."
After a moment of hesitation, he added.
"It would be better in Ser Barristan is here for this too."
While Dany sent one of the handmaidens to bring Ser Barristan, his sister spoke up.
"What is it, Varys? Tell us."
"In a moment, your grace," Varys replied as he started placing a few things on the table. An old diary, a few clothes, and some parchment. He was still opening them when Ser Barristan entered the room, his sword drawn.
"Your Grace?"
Varys replied before he could.
"Sheathe your sword, Ser Barristan. There is no danger to your graces."
The older man looked around the room before doing so. Soon after, Varys spoke up.
"A few moons earlier, one of my men in the Citadel came across a diary, your grace. It was of the High Septon Maynard, who had retired to Stary sept a few years ago. The diary had many interesting things, but one part made my man send it to me."
He opened the diary to the end and started reading what was written.
"After hearing everything Prince Rhaegar said, I found his arguments valid and agreed to his grace's request. He was happy to listen to it and arranged for the ceremony to happen the next day. By the eve of next day, I had overseen the marriage between Prince Rhaegar, lady Lyanna Targaryen knee Stark..."
Rhaenys jumped from his seat.
"What the hell are you saying, Varys?"
He too wanted to say something, but his entire head was ringing. They had known about Lyanna Stark, but to know that she and his father were married was something else. The lack of reply from Varys made him turn to look at the man, who was staring at him.
"What?"
Instead of replying, he looked back in the diary and continued reading, his next words making a lot of things they had known to be a lie.
"..Lady Lyanna Targaryen knee Stark, and Princess Elia Targaryen knee Martell."
The silence that spread in the room was dense. His entire self had gone numb while Rheenys had fallen back on her seat. Daenerys was the one to break the silence.
"All three of them were married?"
"Yes, your grace. There are signatures of Ser Barristan's brothers on this declaration." He replied, passing a parchment to the Kingsgaurd.
"It is theirs, your grace."
The parchment came in his hands next, and still he couldn't believe what was written on it.
"That's not all, Your Grace."
Fortunately for him, Rhaneys spoke up.
"What else do you know, Varys?"
"I did not share this information with you all at that time as I was not sure about its validity. Instead, I sent a message to my birds in Starry sept to a bedridden Septon Maynard. As we were leaving Braavos today, I got the reply. It did not arrive by a raven as there were a lot of things Septon Maynard provided along with the verbal conforming."
Before either of them could say something, Varys turned towards Ser Barristan.
"Ser Barristan, what do you know about Jon Snow?"
"Lord Eddard Stark's bastard?"
"Yes"
"Not much. Only what I heard about his birth and from Robert ..."
Ser Barristan trailed off, his eyes far away. After a moment, his eyes snapped back.
"You don't think..."
Varys nodded, bringing out what looked like letters from clothes and turning towards them.
"Jon Snow was introduced by Lord Stark as his bastard, one he fathered sometime during the rebellion. No one was ever able to learn about his mother's name. Lord Stark had brought him along with Lady Lyanna's body, who was last known to be protected by the Ser Oswell, Ser Arthur, and Ser Gerold."
Varys closed his eyes before opening up and speaking again.
"On a hunch, I sent one of my most trusted men to meet with someone who could have known the truth about Jon Snow, Lord Howland Reed..."
"Who is Jon Snow, Lord Varys?" His sister interrupted in a strained voice. Instead of replying, Lord Varys passed her another parchment.
"No" came her breathy voice soon after.
Daenerys pried the parchment from her hands and passed it to him after reading it.
"His name is Rhaegon Targaryen, trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, named for the father, sister, and elder brother he lost before even being born. I gave an oath never to tell him the truth directly, Lord Varys."