"Diplomacy is the art of restraining power."
- Jaehaerys I Targaryen
Prince Jonothor of the Royal House of Targaryen
The Prince of Summerhall
III
Jonothor's room was as it always had been, Targaryen in styling but Northern in dressings. His bed and desk had detailings of red and black, a few drapes here, and a banner there all emblazoned with the symbols of his forefather's house. In truth though, the room was quite bare, with few ornaments or finery - instead, he had a lovely large bookshelf assorted with his personal collection over the years.
With the benefits of his princely status, he had acquired a lovely collection of both the already established great works of the known world as well as hand-written journals with the thoughts of dead princes and maesters.
Bang
Aegon barged into Jon's room with his customary swagger, the door flying open, "Golden walls and golden halls… with golden scions and golden lions, oh so many golden lions."
Jon, only mildly startled, was sitting at his desk reading the personal diary of the 'Even Younger Prince' Matarys Targaryen. A surprisingly decent man, for a dragon that is, who had made it his goal to fight the power of the Nobility. Of course, he had then died young and powerless having enacted exactly none of his laws and affected exactly no one.
Jon looked up from the book but remained seated drawled, "Welcome back, please do come in."
Egg scoffed in response so Jon continued, "I'm impressed it took you the whole morning and a meeting with two of the most powerful lords still in the city to notice that the Lannisters are, in fact, blonde. Given another week of hard thinking you're bound to notice they are also Westerlanders. How did the meeting go by the way?" His brother looked only mildly worse for wear, his shoulders were slightly slumped and his eyes ever so slightly tired but his infectious grin remained, it couldn't have gone too terribly then.
"Give me some credit - I also noticed that they were rich. I grew up in two palaces and they make us look like beggars with all their gilded horseshit, but the meeting went well enough, I have the choice between some Lannisport cousin or the little Orphan girl off Tywin's late brother Tygett, Cerissa I think her name was." It made sense, most of the other Lannister girls were too young or too old for his brother.
"Not holding out for you uncle Olyvar's welp are you, the little clone of Lady Cersei?" He teased his brother, that side of his brother's family was always pestering him about something or other, always reaching, always grasping.
"Seven no, while I'm told Mara inherited none of Cersei's - Cerseiness, I'd rather not take the risk. Besides we need allies as soon as possible, Mara's still too young for marriage, and betrothal contracts make weak alliances." Aegon responded a bit quickly.
"True enough, and how was the Dwarf of Casterly Rock, I imagine he was the one leading the conversation?" The only Lannisters with any influence in the Capital were Lord Tyrion, Tywin's chosen representative, and Ser Kevin, the old Lion's brother and Lord Commander of the City Watch - like Mace Tyrell he received his prestigious position for his leal support in the rebellion.
"All but giddy in that stunted body of his but he hid it well, he led the conversation in circles just to lavish in the fact that I was asking." Aegon's pride was clearly hurt having to ask for an alliance.
"Don't blame him too much for it, it's a rare day that a dragon comes begging, most lords would lavish in the opportunity and Lannisters can smell profit. He didn't demand too much did he, I don't think dear Rhaenys would be pleased to hear she's been sold?" For her name day, as a way, Jon suspected of avoiding matrimony, his sister joined Prince Oberyn on a trip across Essos, she might be mildly upset to discover she had been married off anyways.
"Our dearest sister has nothing to worry about, and neither do you for that matter, if anything he was being generous. I take a Lioness for a bride, whichever one I want but preferably from the main lines, and make her my wife as soon as feasible and swear her children will be my heirs and that I won't take a second wife or shame her publicly or set her aside and all the usual drivel."
"Can't take the risk of us trying the Vale or something, Tywin Lannister has wanted his brood on the throne for a long time, if Lord Tyrion fucked this up the old lion might finally, actually kill him." The whole realm knew of the disagreements between the Lord of Casterly Rock and his presumptive heir, it was actually somewhat of an open secret that Tyrion was sent to the capitol to keep him out of the West.
"Realm would be better for it." Aegon mutters under his breath.
"Hmph, careful that's your soon-to-be good uncle or whatever he'll be... in all honestly he's not that bad, a Crannogman complex and far too much Lannisterness for my liking, but good taste in books if nothing else." Jon interacted with Lord Tyrion every once and a while, and had exchanged books with him a few times. Unfortunately with his golden shadow, he had a limited tolerance for Lions so his interactions were few and far between, too many Lannisters are bad for one's health.
Aegon chuckled to himself, "Crannogman complex, is that your excuse?" Oh, that piece of shit, just because he's a little older and a few inches taller. Jon was, mildly, taller than Mae and that was all that really mattered to him - unfortunately, that hadn't always been true.
"I should ring your scrawny little neck-" Jonothor announced as he stood up from his desk, placing the diary down.
Aegon laughed, his eyes bright as ever, "That's the spirit, reading time is over. If we're to go to war I'm not having you do it with a fucking knife, it's time to catch up on all those training sessions you missed." Egg didn't wait for a response, instead leaving the room immediately, just expecting him to follow.
" Scrawny? My neck is not scrawny." Jon heard as the door closed.
Whap, Whap, Whack!
"OW, fuck, fucking, fuck. Damn you Egg and your fucking sword." His brother was unfortunately fast with a sword in hand and he had let his shield fall in order to duck under what was apparently a feint. So now he had a bruised hand and his blade was in the dirt, thoroughly disarmed.
Egg grinned before taking a step back, "You should see me with a spear."
"Your footwork was abysmal and your shield was ill-positioned. If your shield falls your vitals are exposed and your defense is doomed. Keep your body loose, your feet stable, and your shield up or you're dead in a proper fight." Ser Hightower announced from the sideline.
The Kingsguard then turned to Egg, "Prince Aegon, you were too aggressive with that attack, the feint left you too exposed and in a real battle, you would have been left bleeding in the dirt. A sword is not a spear, they do not have the same reach, do not treat them the same." The Lord Commander was a bit of a sanctimonious fellow.
"Once more, then we'll try something else." And that was it, his hand still stung from where Egg had hit him and he was panting just a bit but on they went. Each moving back to opposite sides of the ring.
This time Jon didn't attack, he wasn't going to waste what energy he had charging. Egg was slow to attack, probing his defenses, throwing a few weak strikes at his sides before jumping back. Luckily for Jon, a benefit of being an archer was decent upper body strength, it took little effort to deflect the strikes with his own sword.
With each parry though Jon noticed something, the sword felt off in his hand, his calluses were all in the wrong places and he couldn't get a comfortable grip. This fight wasn't going to get better with time.
He took a strong step forward and gave a strong downward slash which Egg blocked with his sword, but it took visible effort to hold it. Not wanting to be left in a vulnerable position Jon pulled his sword back and gave a strong thrust at Egg's abdomen only to have it deflected by his shield.
Pulling back again Jon tried to thrust at Egg again time but this time Egg dodged out of the way rather than blocking. He tried to stop himself but Jon fell forward, his feet scrambling to stay upright.
Suddenly he was shoved from the side, Egg had thrust his shield into Jon's side and there was nothing he could do. His sword had fallen from his hand out of surprise and he was face-first in the dirt.
"Yield, I yield." Jon shouted from the dirt, flipping himself to sit upright. Egg took a seat on his right, holding his arms above atop his head.
Egg leaned over and shoved his shoulder, "You did better than I expected you to."
"I got my ass handed to me ten times in a row, I don't know where this 'better' you're seeing is."
"Oh I had to dodge a few times, you put me on the back foot a few others. Don't worry about losing too much, I've still never beaten Arthur." Unfortunately never beating the Sword of the Morning is expected of just about anyone, never beating your older brother is slightly more demoralizing.
"He's not wrong my Prince, you did well but you're out of practice. In that last fight, your footing was still too weak and it exposed you when you fell. More practice will help you build up the right muscles and you'll be beating Prince Aegon in no time." Ser Hightower declared.
"I wouldn't say no time." Egg laughed as he reached over and ruffled Jon's hair.
"No matter, on your feet my princes, it's time to try something else. Ser Jaime, would you be willing to fight the young Princes two on one?"
"Of course I would, Lord Commander, would you care to join them - then it might actually be a fair fight." Ser Jaime rose from the side of the yard where he'd been watching.
"I don't want a 'fair fight' I want good practice, I'll remind you of your place when the prince's training is done."
Jaime just grinned, "I'm sure you will, now princes… on guard." and drew his sword.
Aegon got up and pulled Jon to his feet, they took a few steps back and readied their weapons.
Jaime was absurdly fast, Jon and Egg would attack him at the same time from different sides and yet he would easily deflect both strikes. When he struck, it felt like a hammer sending vibrations up Jon's arm that stung like a slap.
On one particular foray, Jon had his sword slapped out of his hand with the flat of Ser Jaime's blade but he just backed away allowing Jon to pick up his sword. Perhaps playing with his food isn't the best term but Jaime clearly wasn't trying his hardest.
While Aegon put Jaime on the back foot with some strong strikes at his flank, Jon recognized the chance and knew he couldn't come close to beating Jaime at swordplay. He reached down and grabbed some dirt and seeing Jaime distracted, Jon threw the dirt right at his eyes while he was pushing back Egg.
In a glorious stroke of fate, Jaime had been glancing at him just as he threw the dirt so it stuck him right in the eyes. "Ahh, you little shit, I'm going to get you for that one."
Grabbing his sword from the dirt, Jon responded by attacking him with heavy arced swings, one after the other, not that they really did anything to Jaime. The Kingsguard maintained his composure and calmly deflected each of the swipes slowly stepping backward.
"You know you can't win, Jonothor and just for that little trick with the dirt I'll take pleasure in bruising you." With a quick stutter step, Jaime attacked faster than he had the entire fight. Jon well and truly couldn't keep up, it was only luck that had all of Jaime's strikes glance off his shield or graze his side. Suddenly Jaime reached out and grabbed his sword arm mid-swing while leveling his own blade to Jon's neck. "Do you yield?"
"Fight's not over yet." Aegon announced from their flank, his own sword swinging down at the hilt of Jaime's sword. A benefit of the little trick with the dirt was not only grabbing Jaime's attention but also blocking his peripheral vision, hiding Egg from his view until the very last second.
In a testament to Ser Jaime's skill though, he managed to barely deflect the attack with the guard of his blade. The knight set himself in a hasty defensive posture but was quickly under attack again, slash after slash barely blocked until finally, Egg slammed his shield into Jaime's center stunning him long enough to place his sword to Jaime's neck.
"I believe I win ser." Aegon grinned, it was obvious that Jaime never took the fight completely seriously but beating a Kingsguard was a testament of skill.
"Hmm neat little trick there, did you plan it?" Jaime let his sword drop and took a few steps away from Egg, the fight over.
"No but I'm aware enough of my own abilities to recognize a lost cause, I had no chance to defeat you - unless I stole Ser Arthur's sword arm that is. Skilled as my brother is, neither of us is the Dragonknight reborn, Aegon for lack of time and I for lack of interest. Our best chance was cheap tricks but he's too proud to do it himself." Jon explained.
"What faith you have in my skills, I won didn't I." Egg snarked.
"You are the Prince of Dragonstone, you have too many responsibilities to spend all your days polishing your sword like the White Lion here."
"Most of my days are actually spent following y- "
"Not the point Ser Jaime. There are some fights you just can't win, at least cleanly, and as such, I went with the unclean option that had a higher chance of victory." Jon interrupted.
"Your brother is right my Prince, despite the lack of honor in such a trick, your life is paramount and you should do whatever is necessary to protect it. And Ser Jaime, you never recovered your stance after you were surprised, had you taken a second to recenter yourself you could have won comfortably." Ser Hightower affirmed.
"Well if that's that then I need a bath, Ser Jaime as well, I'll not walk around smelling of sweat and grime and neither shall my guard." Jon announced as he took off his shield and gave it, along with his sword, to a servant who scampered away quickly.
"Ser Jaime will rejoin you after some training of his own my Prince, he has fallen back into certain bad habits which I had thought were beaten out of him, some practice between his brothers will be good for him." The Lord Commander announced as he took up a sword of his own.
"Yes, yes, that's all well and good, but my nephews do require a proper bathing - both of them. A Targaryen does not smell like a Flea Bottom beggar, we have an image to maintain." said Viserys Targaryen in all his Valyrian glory as he strode into the yard.
"Rumor has it either we're all going to die in the next week or dearest Renly will soon be receiving the Stark treatment. No matter, we'll talk about it when you're both done… and after dinner for that matter, I need to eat something that's not fish for the first time in a month, let's say my chambers in a couple of hours - we should have some privacy there."
Viserys' room appeared as though it were picked straight out of Driftmark. The windows opened to a breeze from the Narrow Sea and a great quartered two-headed Targaryen Dragon and Veleryon seahorse banner hung up on the wall - directly above a pair of silver and teal pillows upon his bed.
There were maps of the Narrow Sea and the Free Cities of Essos splayed across an imported willow wood desk with dyed candles burning upon it. A thin curved, elegantly decorated sword, a falchion by the looks, in a leather scabbard sat within an open chest in front of the bed.
"I'll admit, the only news I expected to ever receive out of the Tyrells was for Mace to break through his Council chair. Did you know he requested to have his own chair brought in, a veritable throne the thing was, thank the gods Connington told him to fuck off." Viserys announced from his desk. "That or for little lady Margaery to announce she's been impregnated with some bastard off of one of you. The way she would flaunt herself whenever she was brought to the capital, I'm impressed by your resilience."
"Desperation is not an appealing trait, and I have more self-control than to risk such a dangerous bastard." Aegon defended himself.
"More than- hmm." Viserys cut himself off having remembered Jon was in the room, every once and a while the man seemed to remember to censor himself.
"More than our father, yes. And that's a good thing, had I been there I would have argued strongly against my own conception. It has put us in quite the precarious position." Jon returned, he had long since outgrown arguing about his birth.
Aegon, quick to move away from a tenuous topic continued, "Tell us what you know about our position Uncle, we can fill you in on the rest."
"Well, I've heard the resident Lord Baratheon has announced to the realm he is taking the Rose of Highgarden to marriage which puts him in a remarkably strong position given the enduring legacy of his eldest brother."
"Indeed, Connington, with the backing of the King, believes as long as we don't give him cause he won't risk being seen as a warmonger and losing the support of his allies or vassals. Aegon has also entered into marriage talks with the Lannisters to hopefully act as a deterrent or if worst comes to worst bring us another army."
Viserys leaned back in his chair heaving a sigh, "It really has all gone pear-shaped, a lioness for a bride - I wish you luck nephew."
"Thank you." Egg replied honestly.
"Although out of curiosity is anyone coming with you to matrimony, your sister is certainly of an age to marry and a Targaryen princess is certainly a strong bargaining chip. More allies would certainly never be amiss." Viserys questioned.
"It would be but unfortunately my sister is both very far away, likely purposely so, and thoroughly Dornish." Aegon rebutted.
"In what sense? I'm sure you know this Aegon but most lords enjoy the prospect of a Dornish bride." Viserys looked mildly confused now.
"In the sense that whatever unlucky man she marries will rapidly die of a severe illness, probably before the wedding day, if my uncle's spear doesn't get to him first. Murdering heirs to great houses so blatantly will only make us more enemies." Aegon explained, even though he seemed displeased with the Dornish attitudes.
"Well, what is to be done… the lords of the Narrow Sea are with us, that much I can assure you, but they are naval and mercantile lords with many ships but few knights and men-at-arms. They won't be much help in a land war with the south."
"The lords of the Blackwater can raise some 5 or 6 thousand men, much of which are men-at-arms, knights, or urban levies from Duskendale, Rosby, or King's Landing. We can probably expect a few thousand more from the urban sprawls on Dragonstone and Driftmark giving us around 8,000 men to work with - does that sound about right." Aegon asked.
His brother knew the lords of the Crownlands well and knew their strengths and weaknesses, he had no doubt spent years being taught the specific numbers of which lords offered how many men during the rebellion, and so on.
"Indeed, a few thousand men from the trade cities shouldn't undermine the integrity of the navy, but we must be careful, the Royal Navies heavy galleys require thousands of oarsmen, and much of the fleet is currently mothballed for peacetime, when war begins we will need thousands of new sailors in order to maintain naval supremacy." Viserys responded with his own expertise.
Feeling entirely out of his element and thoroughly unhelpful Jon decided to interject with what little knowledge he did have, "The lands around the blackwater also have a glut of free-riders available for hire, avid riders and hunters who have joined me on some of my hunting trips to the Kingswood. They know the terrain well and are skilled light cavalry."
"Interesting, a good source of outriders if nothing else but we're not at war yet, we'll learn their usefulness after Renly's Tourney."
"Speaking of which, perhaps it would be best if you didn't go Egg. It's a tremendous risk to allow you to so easily be captured before the war even begins. We would be tremendously outnumbered in the heart of Baratheon power." Jon voiced a thought that had occurred to him after he made the suggestion.
Aegon frowned as his face hardened, "No. Dragons do not run brother, I will not let Renly make decisions for me and it's not like I will let you go alone into such an obvious trap."
"It doesn't matter, Renly's a showman, he wants you to come so he can show you his power, his influence and he wants you to return back to the capital with stories of the skill of his soldiers and wealth of his allies. It's not in his nature to take you prisoner so blatantly and your being there may give some of his lords' pause." Viserys corrected with an odd look on his face.
"You knew lord Renly well?" Jon asked, curious.
"You were too young Jonothor, you as well Aegon, but Renly used to spend much of his time in the capital. We all but grew up together, two younger brothers left alone, one by choice and one by circumstance." Viserys responded, falling into one of his somber attitudes, it was at times like these that he reminded Jon of Rhaegar.
An awkward silence followed before Aegon asked, "I never did ask, how is our little cousin doing, her name day is coming up, no?"
Young Daenys Targaryen, the only daughter of Viserys Targaryen and the late Alyssa Velaryon, was three name days old and Uncle Vis kept her far away from the capital with her kin on Driftmark. She was a cute child the time Jon had met her, with silver hair and the blue eyes of her mother. Hopefully, even if they lose Renly will only force her to take her mother's name and let her live, she was innocent.
"Yes, her name day is a little less than a moon's turn from now, I wanted to show her Braavos and Pentos, maybe drag your sister back home but those plans seem to be scattered to the winds now." Viserys answered.
The death of his wife seemed a blow that his uncle had never recovered from. They were young when they married, Viserys had spent his youth squiring on Driftmark and in turn, had fallen in love with the glory of House Velaryon, a beautiful woman some three years older than Jon with silver hair kept short and bright blue eyes. They had eloped in a sept within the city of Driftmark and disappeared on a honeymoon to Braavos.
When they returned a year later she was early on in her pregnancy, apparently she had struggled with the same issues Jon's grandmother had. She persisted though and soon enough a child was born, but in a terrible string of fate, her similarities with Queen Rhaella did not end there. The birth was a hard one, full of blood and screaming, and in the end, a mother's death paid for her daughter's life.
Viserys had been catatonic for months, never leaving his small house in Driftmark or responding to any letter or summons from the Capital, but eventually, he returned. When he did, he no longer mocked Jon's mother and threw himself into his work as Master of Ships. Now he would be missing for months on end on assignment protecting trade or patrolling for pirates with his Velaryon kin.
Jon's uncle gave a tired sigh, "It'll be what it will be. To lead, a man must understand that there are forces in this world that he cannot change. Our land, our very position in this world, is under siege by those resentful and bitter of our splendor. Our allies turn against us and we must soon face them in battle, but none of that will happen tonight. If you wish to change the world it is best to start with a good night's rest."
"Now out, I need my beauty sleep, we all do." Viserys announced, rising from his desk and shooing them away.
Jonothor was seeing through eyes that weren't his own. At least he was pretty sure they weren't.
The first thing he noticed was that his arms were too small for him and his skin was too tan by half, not Dornish by any means though - not like Egg's or Rhaenys' olive skin that never burned in the sun. Instead, his arms were the same shade as his father and uncle, a mixture of Valyrian pale silver and the golden tans of the Crownlands.
They were the same color as the arms wrapped around his , admittedly, tiny middle, keeping him held to a soft, warm chest fighting against the bitter cold winds that surrounded him.
Jon leaned his too-large head back against the chest of his companion looking up at her tangled blond hair and mismatched green and violet eyes.
The women looked down at him and smiled, taking one of the remarkably strong arms that were keeping him in place and patting him atop the head.
"Are you enjoying it, my son?" She said loudly over the howl of the winds.
Jon was certainly enjoying being held, it was a foreign and comforting experience to him but he doubted that was what the woman was referring to.
He tried to answer the question but his mouth only made a garbled, "Waa?"
She smiled, as if fond of his stupidity and patted his head again, "Well done, my little wyrm."
She looked off to the right and he was startled to his bones to see a great dragon wing flapping beside them, with bright scarlet scales and pink membranes.
A dragon.
The same beast his family had been trying to raise from the dead since the moment they killed them.
He was sitting atop a dragon being held by his mother.
How pitiful could he get, every fantasy he'd ever had all wrapped up into one pleasant dream. All to show him a world he could never have, a life no matter how hard he struggled he could never achieve.
His mother was dead.
Just like the dragons.
"Look, look my son." His mother shook him just a little bit to get his attention. She was pointing towards a stone castle at the edge of a great forest.
The castle didn't look to be anything special, it was smaller than the Red Keep and even many of the other Blackwater castles Jon had seen, but the experience of seeing it from dragonback was something entirely unique.
Was this how Aegon had felt above Harrenhal, like the world was at his mercy.
Jon could feel himself slipping awake, like the frayed edges of a letter burning towards the center leaving naught but ash.
He didn't want to leave, he didn't want to forget this glimpse into what it was like to be a Targaryen of old - someone great, someone admired.
Someone men would never dare mock.
Someone the world would never forget.
"Never forget what you are Daemon, we are dragons."
AN:
So there should be a new chapter within the week, and a proper one at that with somewhere between 2 and 6 thousand words, and then another short chapter soon after that. And then that'll be all for the intro arc so things can actually happen. Another fun fact, if any of y'all remember the first dream sequence, that was actually a red herring, it was literally meant to throw you off and was just a stress dream becuase Jon's world is rapidly crumbling around him.
Cheers
