Sister's Keeper
Edited by xXFallenSakuraXx52
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
Chapter 63: The King in the North
Alysanne's POV
I looked over the balcony to see a lone ship sailing into the harbor. A basic ship, the sails were grey and the prow a single spike. Unable to detect if it was a merchant ship or a voyage ship. It wasn't until this morning did a raven from the ship flew over indicating it was King Snow and his crew requesting permission to come ashore.
The past two weeks, Daenerys tried to convince me that we need to secure the Seven Kingdoms. The North is one of the seven kingdoms. However, I made it clear that the North fought hard for their independence the past four maybe five years since the Lannisters killed Lord Eddard Stark. They've chosen their monarchy. All I can do is make sure that this Jon Snow is a suitable leader for the North, not another Cleon the Butcher. Let alone, compensate House Stark for the crimes Rhaegar and Father made to their House. By taking Lyanna Stark, the murder of Lord Rickard Stark and his son Brandon Stark, and demanding for Eddard Stark's head. A father and two sons trying to protect Lyanna by requesting for her return. Not war. And Father declared it so.
In time, one day, through our descendants, the North will return to Realm. But now, after decades of mistreatment, the separation was needed. Also, I need to forge this alliance to prepare Westeros for the Long Night. To prepare the people against the Army of the Dead. Varys and Tyrion hardly understand, Ser Barristan tries to grasp where I'm leading, and…only Jorah and Daenerys believe in me in what I saw in the House of the Undying. If not, what the spirits in the Veil foretold. Daenys the Dreamer had a vision of two dooms. One by fire and one by ice. The Doom of Valyria consumed the dragon empire in flames. Now the Doom of Ice, the Second Long Night shall return in winter and death. Already the air was cold, the winds were blowing with a chill from the Crownlands. No doubt the snow has fallen in North.
"Your Grace, how will you address King Snow?" Ser Barristan asked.
"I will address him as a king," I answered. "Although I want to see how stubborn a Northman is. Test him."
"You're going to ask him to bend the knee," Ser Barristan assumed shaking his head with a twitch of his lip.
"I will," I confirmed. "But the North is the North while the South is the South. Two nations need to unite against a common enemy."
"The moment you take back your home, the people will stand beside you," Ser Barristan said. "Dorne and the Reach stand before you. The Iron Islands support you along with your Valyrian kin."
"The question being, will the unknown or the Lioness strike first," I sighed.
Visenya reminded me countless times that the unknown can never be predicted. She foretold the Army of the Dead will march south from the Wall while I am still in Westeros. Now the question is when? Do I have years, months, or weeks before the inevitable arrives? All that I know is that the Night King, White Walkers, and the Wights are awake. The Wall is the barrier between us from them, but not all walls can stand forever.
.o0o.
Dragonstone
The King in the North saw Dragonstone for the first time in his life. Never has he treaded or sailed south. The farthest to the south he'd ever traveled was near the neck of Westeros. But now, he travels to the Crownlands, of one of the islands inhabited by the Valyrians descendants. Dragonstone, the only volcanic island that the Targaryens took hold for five hundred years. The architecture was like nothing the White Wolf has ever seen. A fortress at the same time mystical in traits of what the books described of the ancient empire of Valyria. Since sailing into the harbor, he noticed there were no signs of the dragons. The last couple of days, the men were nervous about the rumors of three dragons. Dragons the North needed against the Army of the Dead. So, with Ser Davos and five other Northmen, they disembarked the ship and rowed to shore.
When he arrived in Dragonstone, Jon saw the welcoming party, seeing the Dothraki and Unsullied soldiers. He was cautious, having heard stories about the Dothraki and statement of the Unsullied. Along the welcoming party stood a familiar face, recognizing Tyrion Lannister, dressed in black, a scruffy beard, and a large scar across his face. Next to him was a woman, one not from around here with dark skin and wild dark hair.
"The Bastard of Winterfell," Tyrion greeted.
"The Dwarf of Casterly Rock," Jon replied back.
They stared at each other until both gave a smirk. Stepping forward, they shook hands after their old conversations towards the Wall.
"I believe we last saw each other atop the Wall," Tyrion said.
"You were pissing off the edge if I remember right," Jon jest. "Picked up some scars along the road."
"It's been a long road, but we're both still here," Tyrion agreed. Then addressed the Stark's company, "I'm Tyrion Lannister."
"Davos Seaworth," the advisor greeted, shaking the dwarf's hand.
"Ah, the Onion Knight," Tyrion noted. "We fought on opposite sides at the Battle of Blackwater Bay. "
"Unluckily for me," Ser Davos said.
Tyrion took a deep breath, "Missandei is the Queen's most trusted advisor. "
She nodded, "Welcome to Dragonstone. Our Queen knows it is a long journey. She appreciates the efforts you have made on her behalf. If you wouldn't mind handing over your weapons."
Jon looked at Ser Davos hesitant about it. The Onion knight merely nodded. His men felt cautious as well, especially when the Dothraki walking closer to them. Not having much of a choice and outnumbered he nodded, "Of course."
As he and his men handed over their weapons. Jon was hesitant when handing over Longclaw. The only gift he had from Jeor Mormont. Let alone one of the few Valyrian Steel swords left in Westeros. He gave Qhono a warning look not to lose it. The tension grew when the Dothraki took their boat away.
"Please, this way," Missandei insisted.
Having no choice, they followed Missandei and Tyrion to the castle.
Ser Davos walked over to Missandei, "Where are you from? I can't place the accent."
"I was born on the Island of Naath," Missandei answered.
"Ah. I hear it's beautiful down there. Palm trees and butterflies. Haven't been, myself." Ser Davos complimented.
Missandei merely smiled as she walked ahead. Jon caught up to the Onion knight who leaned close to his King.
"This place has changed," Davos murmured.
Jon didn't know if he should take that comment as a bad thing.
On the journey up, they reached the steps. Tyrion asked Jon to walk beside him as they climbed up. At first, there was silence, yet Tyrion has many questions he wanted to ask Jon. Primarily about his ex-wife. Varys had informed him that his marriage to Sansa Stark has been annulled since the marriage was not consummated. If not Littlefinger paying the High Septon extra, and a discount in his brothels. And yet, Tyrion wanted to be sure Lady Sansa was in good hands.
"And Sansa? I hear she's alive and well?" Tyrion asked.
"She is," Jon answered.
"Does she miss me terribly?" Tyrion sarcastically asked.
Jon gave him a look.
Tyrion realized his mistake and explained himself, "A sham marriage. And unconsummated."
Jon felt uncomfortable about this, "I didn't ask."
"Well, it was. Wasn't. Anyway… she's much smarter than she lets on."
"She's starting to let on."
"Good. At some point, I want to hear how a Night's Watch recruit became King in the North?" Tyrion said.
"As long as you tell me how a Lannister became Hand to Alysanne Targaryen," Jon countered.
"A long and bloody tale," Tyrion said. "To be honest, I was drunk for most of it."
"My bannermen think I'm a fool for coming here," Jon sighed, eyes looking about for any threat.
"Of course, they do," Tyrion agreed. "If I were your Hand, I would have advised against it. A general rule of thumb – Stark men don't fare well when they travel south."
"True…" Jon said. "but I'm not a Stark."
There was a loud screeching. When suddenly, a dragon of black and red came swooping down. The Northmen hunched down while the Targaryen soldiers were unfazed. Jon looked up bewildered and amazed in seeing a dragon. He thought the dragon thing was a hoax to scare off the Westerosi. Now Jon could see three dragons flying around the castle. The massive one being black with red undertones, followed by a golden bronze dragon that held the same size as the green one. In over a hundred-fifty year, the Seven Kingdoms thought the dragons were extinct. The King in the North couldn't believe his eyes. They were massive beasts.
Ser Davos glanced over his shoulder, seeing Missandei standing there with a smile. The Naathi finding it amusing to see Jon and Ser Davos was shaken by these marvelous creatures. She has been there for the dragons since they were toddlers.
Tyrion came over, offering a hand to Jon.
"I'd say you get used to them…" Tyrion said, helping Jon up. "But you never really do. Come, their riders are waiting for you."
What the hell did I get myself into? Jon thought, as he turns to look at Davos who had the same thought.
Meanwhile up on the cliffs gazing was Melisandre who observed the Northern party walking through the winding staircase towards the castle. She saw it in the flames when seeing Jon Snow being Azor Ahai. She also learned from a recent letter that there was another champion as Azor Ahai found in Essos in Alysanne Targaryen. Conflicting for their can only be one. Until she received in a dream from a shadow-binder who hides her face that the prophecy was the 'Prince and Princess' who was promised.
Along with the warning that prophecies can be misguided after centuries being retold to suit the listener. Still, Melisandre was disappointed in herself. She read the flames, she heard what her Lord of Light has told her…and she was wrong. Thousands of people are dead, a family had gone extinct, and…she killed an innocent girl. The Red Priestess tried to convince herself that Stannis killed his daughter, Stannis had the choice…in the end, the guilt lingers when Ser Davos presented the scorched Stag figurine.
"I wondered why you weren't there to meet our guests," Varys murmured, standing behind the Red Priestess who glanced at him. "You begged us to summon the King in the North. Don't you want to see him again?"
"I've done my part," Melisandre assured. "I've brought ice and fire together."
"Strange. You spoke so highly of Jon Snow, but when he arrives, you hide on a cliff. I didn't take you for a bashful girl," Varys murmured.
"My time whispering in ears of Kings has come to an end," Melisandre said.
"Oh, I doubt that," Varys challenged. "Give us common folk one taste of power, we're like the lion who tasted man. Nothing is ever so sweet again."
Melisandre smiled, "Neither of us is common folk anymore."
Varys nodded in agreement.
"I did not part on good terms with the King in the North or his advisor." She confessed.
"Because you sacrificed Sheerin Baratheon." He confirmed. "Burning her alive for your god."
"And terrible mistakes," she added sadly. "I would only be a distraction if I stayed."
"So, where will you go?" he asked.
"Volantis," she answered. "The high priestess Kinvara has summoned me."
"Good. If you don't me saying, I don't think you should return to Westeros. I'm not sure you'd be safe here."
The Red Woman only smiled, "Oh, I will return dear Spider. One last time."
"My Lady—"
"I have to die in this strange country. Just like you."
This caught Varys off guard as he stared into her blue eyes. He wonders what she meant by that. Was he supposed to die a natural death and be buried in these lands? Will he be executed, murdered, slain, so many possible deaths? So far, he has faith in his Queen. She may seem different since her resurrection, but…her objective remains the same. The Realm, the people come first before power. Along with the deal, if Varys notices Alysanne is failing the people, he shall tell her.
Before Varys could ask what Melisandre meant, the Red Woman left for her journey to Volantis.
Back to the welcoming party who continue onward to the castle. It wasn't long when the party entered the throne room. Sitting on the Stone throne was Alysanne Targaryen. Jon studies her, noticing her hair was pale, a pale blonde, almost silver that was pulled back by two side braids on each side and reached to her shoulder. She held a statuesque beauty while her eyes he could not describe as blue and purple mixed into one. She wore black leather armor, with a three-headed dragon brooch on her left shoulder securing a red sash. Next to her was another woman who held resemblance, Daenerys Targaryen. She stood beside her sister, poised. She has violet eyes, pale skin, and long, pale silver-gold hair pulled into countless braids. She was beautiful, yet there was something different. Wearing an outfit similar to Alysanne's, though it wasn't battle ready. The Dragon sisters stared at Jon and the Queen's eyes widen.
.o0o.
Alysanne's POV
The doors opened to the Stone Room. Tyrion and Missandei brought King Snow along with his advisor. The moment I looked at the King in the North, my eyes widen for what I saw could not be possible. The man before me was the one I saw in my dream back in Meereen. The third rider on Rhaegal, the man whose face resembled Rhaegar. He stood at the floor, cautious and yet having a fresh memory of my eldest brother in the Veil, I could see Rhaegar standing before me as if he died his hair and grew a beard. However, Rhaegar was dead, and the man who stood before me also had dark eyes.
There are three dragons left in the world, the last three Targaryens, were Rhaegar's final words.
This has to be a coincidence, that I am over thinking of the possibility that Jon Snow could possibly be Rhaegar's son. It must be a coincidence that Jon Snow physical traits resemble my deceased brother. The third dragon is supposed to be Maester Aemon Targaryen. No one else.
"You stand in the presence of Alysanne of House Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Dragoness of the West, the Breaker of Chains. And Leader of the Unsullied." Missandei introduced.
Formality was something they did not use too often. King Snow glanced at his advisor, wondering what he should do.
"This is Jon Snow," a middle-aged man with a southern accent I do not recognize announced. "He's King in the North."
There was an awkward silence.
"Thank you for traveling so far, Your Grace," I greeted. "I hope the seas weren't too rough."
"The winds were kind, Your Grace," King Snow replied.
I then stared at King Snow's advisor, "Forgive me— and you are?"
"You Grace, this is Ser Davos Seaworth," Tyrion informed.
"Forgive me, Ser Davos," Daenerys spoke up. "I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn I read the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark, who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen. In exchange for his life and the lives of the Northmen, Torrhen Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. Or do I have my facts wrong?"
I gave Daenerys a pretend warning look. As much as Daenerys believes that we should rule over the Seven Kingdoms, she knows we are testing our guest. To see if he is worthy of being a ruler for the most extensive Kingdom in Westeros. Tyrion and Ser Barristan are aware of this test. Although Tyrion states good faith in the young King, a short visit to the Wall isn't enough to know a person's character. I invited King Jon Snow to forge an alliance and speak of truce. Not have him come here to intimidate him into bending the knee.
"I wasn't there, Your Grace." Ser Davos said.
"No, of course not," Daenerys grinned. "But still, an oath is an oath. And perpetuity means – what does perpetuity mean, Lord Tyrion?"
"Forever," Tyrion answered.
"Forever," Daenerys repeated. "So, I assume, my lord …you're here to bend the knee."
"I am not," King Snow declared.
"Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. You travel all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?" I murmured. This was my test.
"Break faith? Your father burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle alive," he added. "He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms –"
"My father…was an evil man." I interrupted, knowing I need to settle this predicament and earn his trust. "On behalf of House Targaryen…I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father."
Based on King Snow's expression of doubt, he doesn't believe it.
"Our two houses were allies for centuries, and those were the best centuries the Seven Kingdoms have ever known," I said. "Although, I will not lie, there hasn't been true peace and prosperity in the last three centuries. But there was an agreement with a Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. Daenerys and I are the last Targaryens, Jon Snow. Honor the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee, and I will name you Warden of the North. Together, we will save this country from those who would destroy it."
King Snow paused, contemplating my words. After a moment, he looked me in the eye, "You're right, you're not guilty of your father's crimes. And I'm not beholden to my ancestor's vows."
"Then, why are you here?" Daenerys asked.
"Because I need your help, and you need mine," He said.
I tilted my head, "Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?"
"I did." He answered.
"And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?" Daenerys asked
"They're hard to miss." He somewhat sarcastically replied.
"But still, we need your help?" I asked.
"Not to defeat Cersei," Ser Davos answered. "You could storm King's Landing tomorrow, and the city would fall. Hell, we almost took it, and we didn't have dragons."
"Almost," Tyrion snipped.
"But you haven't stormed King's Landing. Why not?" King Snow noted. "The only reason I can see is that you don't want to kill thousands of innocent people. It's the fastest way to win the war, but you won't do it, which means, at the very least, you're better than Cersei."
I arched a brow, "Still, that doesn't explain why I need your help."
"Because right now, you and I and Cersei and everyone else, we're children playing at a game, screaming that the rules aren't fair." King Snow explained.
"You told us you liked this man," Daenerys told Tyrion.
"I do," Tyrion assured.
"In the time since he's met us, he's refused to call Alysanne Queen, he refused to bow, and now he's calling her a child," Daenerys said, almost sounding like whining.
"I believe he's calling all of us children," Tyrion said. "Figure of speech."
Jon Snow was getting irritated, "Your Grace, everyone you know will die before winter's over if we don't defeat the enemy to the north."
"As far as I can see, 'you' are the enemy to the north," I countered, seeing his reaction.
"I'm not your enemy," King Snow defended. "The dead are the enemy."
The test falters as I stared at him in shock wide eye. Did he just say the dead are the enemy? Remembering Visenya riddle, as she said before "A lioness shall challenge you, and the white wolf shall support you. Listen to the white wolf, for he has seen what is to come."
"Say that again?" I asked.
"The Army of the Dead is on the march," He repeated.
"The Army of the Dead?" Tyrion asked.
Tyrion doesn't understand the Army of the Dead. He only knows that I am preparing for the Long Night of a battle for survival. All around Ser Barristan and Daenerys tried to hide their surprise. For they believe in my vision from the House of the Undying. The Night King and his Army of the dead. So, to hear King Jon Snow making that declaration, brought tension in the throne room. All eyes on the King in the North.
"You don't know me well, my lord, but do you think I'm a liar or a madman?" King Snow asked.
"No, I don't think you're either of those things," Tyrion answered.
"The Army of the Dead is real. The white walkers are real. The Night King is real. I've seen them. If they get past the Wall and we're squabbling amongst over selves…" he said stepping forward only the Dothraki drew their weapons. He stopped stepping back. "We're finished."
Silence engrossed the room as all eyes were on me.
"I was born at Westeros. Not that I can remember it." I said, standing up walking over to him. "We fled before Robert's assassins could find us. Robert was your father's best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder children. Not that it matters now, of course. Daenerys and I spent our lives in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill us, I don't remember all their names. My sister has been sold like a broodmare, and I poisoned and died till resurrected. We've been chained and betrayed, raped, and defiled. Do you know what kept us standing through all those years in exile? Faith. Not only in the gods, not only in myths and legends. But in us. In the Dragon Sisters. The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries until Daenerys resurrected them. The Unsullied had a choice and they fight alongside me. The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea, any sea. They did for Daenerys." I was standing in front of him, staring into his dark brown eyes. "So, look me in the eye and tell me what you are proclaiming is true?"
Jon Snow stared into my indigo eyes. Behind those brown eyes was the face of Rhaegar. The face of the rider who shouted my name as I fell to my death in the dream. His voice was similar to that of the member of the Nights Watch in my vision who told me to run. If he is the White Wolf, then what I have been dreading has come sooner rather than later.
"You'll be ruling over a graveyard if we don't defeat the Night King," King Snow murmured.
He did not flinch, or facial reaction that indicated a lie. He kept his dark eyes on me, and voice stern. In my years of learning the art of conversation, it was clear he was telling the truth. I felt my blood turn cold while keeping a neutral expression. Tossing the test aside, I was about to ask him questions when Tyrion came forward.
"The war against my sister has already begun," Tyrion said. "You can't expect us to halt hostilities and join you in fighting whatever you saw beyond the Wall."
Ser Davos stepped forward. "You don't believe him. I understand that. It sounds like nonsense. But if destiny has brought the Dragon Sisters back to our shores, it has also made Jon Snow King in the North. You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros? He is the first to make allies of wildlings and Northmen. He was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He was named King in the North. Lord Protector of the Realm. Not because of his birthright. He has no birthright. He's a damn bastard. All those hard sons of bitches chose him as their leader because they believe in him. All those things you don't believe in, he faced those things. He fought those things for the good of his people. He risked his life for his people. He took a knife in the heart for his people. He gave his own—"
King Snow gave his advisor a glance to stop his spiel.
I stared at Tyrion, wondering what he meant. Tyrion didn't know, which I wish Varys were here to explain what has happened I the North. What did Ser Davos meant by taking a knife in the heart? King Snow turned his attention back to me, and I continue to stare into his eyes. Though dark, there was something familiar about them. As if they've lost a piece of their soul.
"If we don't put aside our enmities and band together, we will die," Ser Davos finished. "And then it doesn't matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne."
"If it doesn't matter, then you might as well kneel," Tyrion insisted. "Swear your allegiance to Queen Alysanne, help her defeat my sister, and together, our armies will protect the North."
"There's no time for that!" King Snow snapped. "There's no time for any of this! While we stand here, debating –"
"It takes no time to bend the knee," Tyrion reasoned. "Pledge your sword to her cause."
"And why would I do that?" Jon demanded, and stared at me. "I mean no offense, Your Grace, but I don't know you. As far as I can tell, your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father's name, and my own father fought to overthrow the Mad King. The lords of the North placed their trust in me to lead them, and I will continue to do so as well as I can."
"That's fair," I murmured. "And I must say, you passed my test. I can see you care for your people as I do for the Realm."
This confused King Snow and Ser Davos. Before they could ask what I meant, footsteps could be heard as Lord Varys entered. As he rushed over and whispered into my ear.
"Your Grace, please dismiss your guests. I have grave news."
I scowled, nodding to Varys. Regaining my composure, I stared at King Snow and his advisor. "You must forgive my manners. You'll both be tired after your long journey. We'll have baths drawn for you and supper sent to your rooms."
I glanced at Daenerys, who nodded, speaking to Kovarro in Dothraki. Addressing them to escort our guest to their chambers and providing them a hot bath and food. Kovarro nodded, as he along with Aggo and Qhono came over gesturing Jon Snow and Ser Davos to move. I made my way to the Stone Throne.
"Am I your prisoner?" King Snow challenged.
I stopped facing him, "No, you are my guest, King Snow."
The King in the North and Ser Davos Seaworth was escorted out of the Throne room. Once we had the room in private, I stared at the Spider wondering what grave news he brings that had to interrupt a royal meeting. Not long after Prince Quentyn, Lady Olenna, Lord Paxter, and Captain Aurane.
"Our Ironborn and Dornish allies were attacked on route to Dorne," Varys reported.
"And?" I asked.
"Two or three ships escaped, the rest, sunk or captured. The Greyjoys and Tyene Sand, dead or captured." Varys reported.
"All of them?" Daenerys asked.
Varys could not answer.
"Did they sail on the Leviathan trail?" Lord Paxter asked.
"They did not," Varys answered.
Lord Paxter and Captain Aurane scowled. They gave heaved instructions for the Greyjoy fleet and my own to sail on the Leviathan trail. Yes, it takes a few days longer than anticipated to reach Dorne, but they had the ships that could maintain the riptide at a fast pace the same as sailing near the coast. I mentally scowled, for I was in charge of this invasion, and Yara Greyjoy disobeyed a direct order. Now it cost me a hundred ships and three allies.
"At least Prince Quentyn is here with us," Lady Olenna tried to find the bright side.
Agreed, Prince Quentyn was here with us. If Euron Greyjoy had captured the Dornish Prince, then House Martell would be forced to change sides to save their kin. Even though House Martell doesn't follow the traditions of a patriarchal society, and Princess Arianne inherits Sunspear, Prince Quentyn keeps the bloodline and family name onward.
"Prince Quentyn, send a raven to your father, informed him of the situation and that there is a delay on the siege," I ordered calmly.
"At once, Your Grace," Prince Quentyn said with a bow and left.
I turned to Ser Barristan, Lord Paxter, and Captain Aurane, "We need to come up with a new battle strategy. The Unsullied should be halfway there by now. See if we can make the siege of Lannisport and Casterly Rock a distraction to separate the Crowns armies from King's Landing."
"Of course," Lord Paxter said.
"Your Grace, may I have a word with you?" Ser Barristan asked.
I nodded, dismissing the War Council. Ser Barristan and I took our privacy in the Painted Room. I walked over to the Painted Table, examine the previous plan before removing the Greyjoy totem.
"Is this considered a delay, or are we screwed?" I asked.
"A delay," Ser Barristan answered. "We have more ships, but it may be wise to have the Dornish march North."
"And how long does it take to march North from Dorne?" I asked.
"By horse two weeks," Ser Barristan answered picking up the Martell Totem from Sunspear and picked it up. "Have them stop at Harvest Hall, before marching onward to the Reach where they are protected and join the vassal houses armies."
"That is one possibility," I sighed, seeing where he is coming from. "I was hoping to save the Dornish energy by ship."
"The Dornish have much endurance, I assure you." Ser Barristan promised. "But that is not why I asked for your time."
I sat down and stared at him to continue.
"Your Grace, you told me before in Dragon's Bay of what you saw in the House of the Undying. The visions of an army of the dead and the Long Night. Now Jon Snow tells you this…"
"You think this is madness?"
"No. After what I have seen, the possibility of the dead rising to take over is possible. Difficult to grasp, but possible."
"And now there are two wars," I sighed, picking up the dragon figurine. "But which should I focus on?"
"When you have the time, talk to King Snow, get as much information as possible to know the status of the greater threat. The more men we have, the greater our chances."
I nodded, appreciating that he believes in me. Then again, he has witnessed dragons, Warlocks, magic, and seeing me resurrected from the dead. Practicability vanished when he sailed off to Essos. So, to believe in my visions of a greater threat is a blessing. Most would think I have gone mad. Only the Small Council knows the truth. Although it was hard in making these decisions. As much as Tyrion, Ser Barristan, Varys, and Daenerys have given me on their counsel. I feel like I need one more. Only that individual is somewhere in the world looking for a cure or is probably dead. Jorah was my first advisor, and the past year without his counsel was a struggle.
Then I thought about King Snow, how Jon resembled my brother Rhaegar as if he decided to dye his hair and grow a beard. The hair and eyes were different, along with a slight roundness around the cheekbones, but I could still see Rhaegar.
"Ser Barristan, when you saw King Snow…did he remind you of anyone?" I asked.
The Older Knight paused, trying to remember if Jon Snow reminded him of someone. He served alongside my oldest brought. Taught him how to fight and shielded him. He was practically Rhaegar's Sworn Shield. Let alone, he kept mentioning I resembled my brother as if I were his twin in the female form if that were possible.
"I can see some resemblance in Ned Stark, but I believe the man inherited more of his mother," Barristan answered.
"And do you know who his mother is, by any chance?"
"There were many assumptions in who Ned Stark slept with to sire a bastard. A common theory was Ashara Dayne since the two were intended before Robert's Rebellion. Although, it's also been said that it was a Wet Nurse name Wylla."
I tried to recall House Dayne's feature. There was a rumor that House Dayne was Valyrian descendants, due to their violet eyes. Yet their House has been in Westeros before the Doom. Let alone their dark hair.
"May I ask why you are curious in Jon Snow's parentage?" Ser Barristan asked.
I suppressed myself from biting my lip. Usually, that habit would give me away on keeping secrets. Taking a deep breath, I stared at the dragon totem.
"I want to make sure the North is in good hands," I lied.
"Jon Snow was raised by Lord Eddard Stark, I assure you, the North is in good hands." Ser Barristan said. "He may be a bastard, but how he addressed the Northerners shows much determination for his people safety."
"You weren't kidding, the Northerners are stubborn," I tried to jest.
Ser Barristan snorted with a smile.
Still, as I over think I can't stop the theory dancing in my head. Jon Snow holds much resemblance to Rhaegar. My brother's final words to me in the Veil that there were three dragons left, and three Targaryens remaining. What are the chances that Rhaegar sired a son out of wedlock? If he did, then the child would still be a bastard since Rhaegar was still married to Elia. Then I thought about Elia and wonder how she felt if she learned of this infidelity leading to a product of betrayal. Either way, I was still the rightful heir to rule…
I need to stop overthinking things.
But as I stared at the dragon totem and thought about Rhaegar, the only thing I could think is…
Damn you, Rhaegar!
Hello my lovely readers. Hope you all are having a lovely summer!
You all have been waiting for this chapter. And thus, I present it to you.
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