Robert
After his squire woke him up early at dawn, and received a bloody nose, the king made his way to Neds camp. He wanted his squire to get him when his friend was leaving, but by the gods, did the man have to leave at this hour?
Last night they had their third biggest argument in eight years, and somehow it always concerned the Targaryen children. If he didnt know the man well enough, he would think he was turning into a dragon supporter.
Thankfully, he didn't have to worry about Ned's loyalty, they were like brothers, and brothers fight and eventually reconcile. Robert would know, after all, he gave Stannis Dragonstone to honor him as heir, until Joffrey was born, but that was when he made Stannis Master of Ships, giving him control of the royal fleet. Yet his brother had never been grateful for that.
And Renly, the green boy was lord of the Stormlands, though too young to be on his council or rule Storms End himself. But one day he would add the boy to his council, and perhaps Renly would be more grateful than Stannis had been.
"Ned" he called to his friend when he noticed him loading supplies onto a wagon. "I would speak with you."
Turning his head around surprised, his friend did as asked. "Your grace," Ned bowed his head and walked over to meet him.
He could tell by his tone that Ned wasnt over their fight last night, neither was he to be entirely honest. But nonetheless, while he enjoyed having a fight or battle, it would forever pain him to lose Ned, or feel he was against him.
So, sighing, he looked his friend dead in the eye. "The Targaryen boy, bring him back to Winterfell where he belongs and I won't order his death." much as he wanted house Targaryen extinct, losing Ned wasn't a price he wished to pay. But he would still get his way in the end. "But I have conditions."
His friend seemed a bit surprised, though only a little. "What terms, your grace?" he asked.
'Your grace,' gods he missed the days when Ned would just call him Robert, instead of 'your grace.' But knowing Ned, he was too damned honorable to do so unless ordered too, so he just started with his terms. "Viserys, neither he nor his sister may ever leave the North unless I say so, which I won't."
His friend gave a hesitant nod, "I suppose they don't have to come south." Of course they didn't, the North was bigger than the other six kingdoms combined. He was being generous enough not killing them or ordering them kept at Winterfell.
"And one other thing," Robert began with his only other term, one that he valued more than the first. "House Targaryen is done, Viserys cannot have children, nor can his sister. Understand?!" he asked, raising his voice at the end a little.
When Ned's face turned stern, and he did not answer for a few moments, Robert didn't think he wanted to agree to it. "By your will, your grace." he finally replied, though Robert took it as mockery because 'your grace' was uttered. Ned bowed his head, before turning to walk back to his cart.
Robert grabbed Ned's arm. "I swear it by every fucking god Ned," he realized his tone of voice was turning rough. "One more Targaryen enters this world, and I will march North myself and wipe them all out."
Viserys
'Cold' that was the word he said to Lord Stark when he arrived at Winterfell, thinking it was the coldest place on earth. Oh how he was wrong then.
Seeing the giant wall made of ice, reaching all the way up into the clouds, Viserys wondered how someone could live here in this freezing hell
As the carts were pulled through the gates of the rotting fort he assumed was Castle Black, men wearing black walked over to speak with Yoren, who he had learned was the name of the man recruiting men for the Watch.
"Any that were promising?" asked an elderly man with a gray beard and hair, dressed in a black cloak.
Yoren snorted, "Only fucker with that can fight seems to be him." he pointed to Karl Tanner, still sitting in the cart. "A killer from King's Landing, caught by the Kingslayer and his Gold Cloaks."
'Gold Cloaks?' Viserys couldn't help but wonder. 'Since when did the Kingslayer become commander of the city watch?'
The old man nodded, and walked around, looking over the new recruits. "Ser Aliser will turn them into proper brothers of the Watch."
Yoren shrugged, "yea, whatever. Let's say we get a drink?"
Clutching the edge of the cart, he watched as the old man and Yoren walked off. When they were gone, he looked around for someone that didn't look like a bloodthirsty killer.
His eyes settled on an older man, hair barely gray and a hood over their face. Viserys leapt from the cart and walked over to the Black Brother. "Pardon me ser, but if I may ask, do you-"
"Pardon me ser?" the man smirked, acknowledging Viserys manners. "The walls no place for some highborn boy with manners, fuck off"
In Winterfell he was reminded how rude and disrespectful he was, and in some cases still is. Yet when he uses manners he gets insulted? "Fuck you, why should I take insults from some whores bastard?" he retaliated.
When the man's face reddened, Viserys lost the short lived fire that had lit within him. He backed away and walked over to find another man to ask questions. Perhaps he should have looked further into Luwins notes to find out where Aemon would be.
When his eyes fell on another man, this one not surprisingly also dressed in black, though with a cloak around him adorned with a wolf pelt. "Ser, could you aid me with something?" he asked the man as he walked towards a crummy building within the sad and pathetic excuse for a castle.
The Blackbrother turned around, "what do you need boy?" he asked, seeming to be much nicer than the other brothers of the Watch.
Viserys cleared his throat, "Aemon, do you know him, and where I can find him?" He did not wish to stay here longer than necessary.
The watchman didn't answer at first, instead he stared into his eyes. "Viserys?" he questioned, figuring out his identity. "What in hells are you doin here boy?!" he asked with a stern tone in his voice.
He bit his lip, not understanding how his disguise could have failed or how this person knew who he was. "I am not Viserys, im...a Snow." He cursed himself for associating himself with a bastard, but he didn't want to be found out, he had come too far.
The Watcher didn't seem satisfied with the answer. "Your eyes betray you lad," the stranger pointed out. "Now answer my question, what are you doing this far North."
Turning his head to look away from the stranger that had found him out, he saw the recruits gathering in the courtyard to be greeted by some random black brother.
He couldn't understand, how is it that his eyes gave him away, and why would anyone even bother looking at his pale lilac eyes. "Who are you again?"
The man didn't take his gaze of Viserys as the recruits were being talked to. "Benjen, ranger beyond the wall."
Then it clicked in Viserys' mind. "Lord Stark's brother?" of course, a bloody Stark. What other person could possibly ruin his whole plan. "I'm not going back to Winterfell."
Benjen stiffened, "you are, im sendinding a raven to Winterfell, and then an envoy will come for you."
Viserys tightened his fist, "You can't, I won't go back there, not now or-"
"You will!" Benjen raised his voice, though not loud enough to draw attention. "The Wall is no place for a boy, and you are my brother's ward."
Viserys looked Stark dead in the eyes, gray meeting lilac. "I'm going to find my relative, I'll be long gone with him before any Stark envoy arrives."
Benjen furrowed his brows, not understanding at first, until it hit him. "Maester Aemon?"
'Maester?' He must have forgotten that part. "I...where is he?" Whatever the occupation, Aemon was a Targaryen. And perhaps it was a good thing, Maesters knew everything, and as a Targaryen, Aemon would know more.
Benjen stared at him, then sighed. "Come," he said as he started walking further into the fort, before stopping in his place to turn and say more. "Aemon deserves to see his family, and so I will allow you to stay with him. But only until my brother comes for you."
His face turning into a glare, Viserys gave a nod and followed Benjen. However, he could not promise that he would still be here when the Starks came.
Daenerys
As she slept, she dreamt of a dark place, with only a few candles to light the way. There were statues of stone men everywhere.
In her dream, she was walking down this dark pathway that led further down, until she saw a statue, one with a crown on their head. The others had no crowns, but this one, and every one after it did.
She moved further, and further down along the path. It grew colder, and colder as she continued to move. But soon, the candles were fewer, and the light left.
But as she continued, she found four mysterious rocks sitting together against the wall of the dark place.
It was too dark to tell what they were, but as she touched one she grew shocked. Her cold hands began to warm up as she held the scaly stone in her hands.
When she woke in her bed, her sheets covered her, and she knew it had been a dream. But it felt so real, and she could remember every detail as clear as any memory..
But she knew not what the dream could mean, and she doubted Maester Luwin did either, given he didn't believe in prophecy, magic, or dreams. At least that's what Viserys said, and she had no cause to doubt him.
Viserys
"Maester Aemon," Benjen called for his relative as they entered the Maesters chambers in Castle Black. "I hope i'm not disturbing you."
Viserys followed Benjen inside, and felt a bit warmer, though it was still very cold for him. "Nothing to disturb, brother Benjen." he heard a frail, old voice respond.
When he laid eyes on an old man sitting beside a fire, long past his prime, probably past his ninetieth name day, he at first couldn't believe he was a Targaryen.
The Valyrian beauty had faded from the Maester, his eyes lost their color, and his hair was just the same as any elderly man. But then, Aemon still looked better than his father Aerys had with his long and disgusting nails and hair.
"You have a visitor," Benjen told the maester, nudging Viserys to say something. "Go on boy," he whispered.
Viserys stepped forward, towards the old man and the fire. "Aemon Targaryen?" he wanted to have it clarified first.
The maester nodded, "Yes...though that name has little meaning here at the Watch." he cleared his throat. "Who do I have the honor of addressing?"
He felt nervous, though he did not know why. "Viserys, last surviving son of Aerys."
Silence reigned over them for a moment, until Aemon rose from his chair, stretching his hands out to guide him across the room, for his sight had left him. Viserys moved closer to him, and Aemons hand landed on his chest.
His relative held it there for a moment, before raising his hands to Viserys face, but paused. "May I?" he asked before feeling his facial features.
Viserys didn't reply, instead he moved the hand to his cheek, and the maester moved his old and wrinkly hands around on his forehead. "Benjen, is he truly-"
"He is, maester." The brother of the usurper's dog replied, while also interrupting Aemon, something Viserys did not find respectful, but let it slide.
A smile came across Aemons face, though after a few moments it faded. "You should not have come...nephew."
At first Viserys didn't know if he heard him right. "What?" he asked in a voice that was almost a whisper, not understanding.
Aemons left hand slid down his cheek, before leaving Viserys face. "If the Baratheons found out you ran away, they would demand your death."
While he wanted to smirk, for he was not afraid of a war with the Usurper and his dogs, he could tell Aemon did not share his views. "Stark cannot control a dragon, neither can the usurper."
His grand uncle sighed, "Many of our family have thought as you do...and all lay in the ground."
Viserys didn't understand, "I...I don't understand, your blood of the dragon, just as i am."
Aemon smirked, "Blood of the dragon," he chuckled. "Viserys, I have wanted to meet you, to see you with mine own eyes, but you are not still too young to understand." he frowned.
He found himself disappointed, not understanding what was with this man he called his kin. "What I understand is that I am the last hope for our family, the only one who is trying to restore the house of the dragon to its former glory."
Sighing, Aemon shook his head. "Our house is not as powerful or as special as you believe, Viserys." he turned to walk back to the fire. "Ever since the dragons died, we grew small, and were just like everyone else."
As he listened to his relative, he wondered whether he was lying or if he was an idiot, for they were higher than all who lived, that is what his father told him. Then again, his father had said none could defeat a dragon, and Viserys knew how wrong his father had been.
But he had not come all the way to this freezing hell just to argue with his uncle. "Then what must I understand?" If this old man was going to say that his own house was as weak as everyone else, he may as well know why a Targaryen would be so foolish to think such.
"Brother Benjen!" a ranger called for him after he ran into the room. "The rangers are ready to depart."
Viserys turned to see Stark give a dismissing nod to the man, before turning to speak to Aemon. "Send a raven to Winterfell Maester, the boy needs to return home."
After Aemon nodded, Benjen left the room to do whatever business he had beyond the wall. Looking back at his relative, his face turned. "So you're going to send me back then?" He did not come all this way for nothing. With or without Aemon, he would leave the North.
Aemon sighed, "I do not wish to make you feel betrayed Viserys, but you are more safe with the Starks than with me, as is your sister."
He only scoffed, "Safe with the traitors that fought and killed my brother?" he shook his head, "The Starks betrayed our family, they are our enemies, uncle."
After a short silence, Aemon slowly rose from his seat. "I cannot say anything to change your mind Viserys...but perhaps I can show you."
As his relative moved around, Viserys raised a brow confused. What was there to show him that he did not already know?
Eddard
He rode in sight of WInterfell, accompanied by Jory Cassel and half the Stark men that had been fighting against the Greyjoys. The rest were still fighting, so that Robert still had Northmen to fight for him.
As the gates opened, he trotted along faster than his men, for he needed to see Jon. He had almost lost the boy, and worse he would have been far away had the sickness taken him.
Leaping from his horse, he did not bother with the common greetings of the castle's inhabitants. Instead he walked to Jons room, hoping not to find him still sick in bed.
And when he did open the door and found the boy gone, he had some hope, though he needed to find him and be sure.
A few moments later when he walked outside and upon the ramparts, he found Catelyn watching something in the training yard. The clashing of blades was reassuring. "Cat,"
His lady wife turned to face him after he called her name, and the smile he thought she may have been wearing disappeared. "Ned," she replied, stretching out her arms to hug him when he got closer.
While he often enjoyed an embrace from his lady wife, now wasn't the time. "Jon," he began, causing her to separate from their hug. "Is he alright?"
She hesitated for a moment, but gave a reassuring nod and turned to gesture at the Jon and Robb sparring with wooden swords under Rodrick Cassels watch. The boys were still too young for live steel.
He sighed in relief, and watched his son and nephew train. Either Robb had improved in swordplay or Jon had become weaker from the sickness, as Robb was knocking Jon into the dirt.
"He's mostly spent his time with Robb, or Daenerys." Cat informed him as they watched on. "Though it's mostly been Daenerys. Robb had his lessons while she sat at Jons bedside when he was bedridden."
Looking at the boy he called his 'son', he thanked the gods that Jon had not succumbed to his sickness. "At least he's well again." Ned pointed out.
A silence came over them while they watched the boys train, but it was interrupted when his wife sighed. "Ned...there is something I must tell you."
Glancing from the boys to Cat, he waited. "What is it?"
It took her a moment, and he noticed her face flash with guilt. "Before Jon got sick...before Viserys ran away..." she hesitated, and took in a deep breath. "I went to my sept, and-"
"Father!" The voices of both his sons interrupted his wife as they must have noticed he had returned by seeing him upon the ramparts.
He turned and smiled at the two boys, "I'll be down shortly," he called to them. He wanted to go down and reunite with the two of them, but out of respect, he would let Cat finish.
She glanced from Ned to the boys, then back to him. "It can wait," she assured him.
Studying her for a moment, he grew curious. She was clearly hiding something, for her face was filled with guilt and shame. "We will talk tonight," he promised her.
After she gave him an assuring nod, he walked down to his sons, who both ran up and hugged him. "Did you win the battles?" asked Robb eagerly?
Jon also seemed eager to know about what happened as much as Robb, but he did not wish to talk about the Greyjoy Rebellion right now. Instead he wanted to spend time with his family for today, before he would have to leave again to find Viserys.
Viserys
For the past few hours, he and his uncle had been discussing Aemons past, and what led him to become a Maester.
He supposed he should be grateful that Aemon refused the crown, else Viserys may never had been born. However, his family would likely still rule the kingdoms.
But now as they sat at the Maesters desk, they were going over letters and conversations between Aemon and Viserys elder and now deceased brother Rhaegar. "He played the harp?" he asked Aemon.
When his great uncle nodded, Viserys looked at the letter containing news of his brother's adventures into the streets of Flea Bottom, where he played songs for the poor and often gave them coin. "He really was smart, gaining the peasants allegiance through love."
Aemon frowned, "your brother truly did love them, Viserys." he assured him. "Your father once berated him for it when he gave away half of his winnings in a tourney." a small smile formed on Aemons face, "they loved him, because they knew he truly cared."
Looking down at the desk, at the many letters his brother and uncle had exchanged over the years, he just couldn't understand. "But, what about how great a warrior he was, how he was the greatest Targaryen prince to have ever wielded a sword." he had imagined the last part, but it could very well be true.
His uncle didn't seem to agree however, "Rhaegar never loved fighting, nor the praise he was given for it." he sighed, "Once, in another life perhaps, he could have been seen as a wise king Jaehaerys reborn."
Maester Aemon grabbed one of the letters, and felt around it as if looking for something. When he didn't feel it, he put the letter aside and grabbed another to do the same thing. "Wielding a sword does not make a man a warrior, nor does winning a battle or tourney make you a knight or a great fighter."
As the maester kept grabbing letters, feeling them for something, and then placing them in a pile, Viserys cleared his throat to object to his relatives' last statement. "But he bested Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy in both jousting and melee." They both were the greatest knights alive at the time.
"Yes, he did, though it was expected of them". The old man doubtfully replied. "When you are a Kingsgaurd going against your crown prince at a tourney, in front of your king and various lords, would you choose to win or for the future of the realm to be seen as an unstoppable force?"
Viserys thought to himself for a moment and wondered, had it really all been lies? Had his father lied to his face? Was Rhaegar really a...no, his brother was not that. "What happened after the tourney, I never saw or heard much of my brother since then, why is that?"
Aemon halted his searching for a moment, and there was silence in the room after Aemon dropped the letter he had been holding. "I assume you are familiar with Lyanna Stark? And what happened after the tourney at Harrenhal?"
Of course he had known, he had only lived in the Stark household since he was a boy of five. But Aemon bringing it up made Viserys wonder, "Yes, but why does it matter?"
Again, his uncle hesitated, but he did speak after a long few moments. "When Rhaegar took Lyanna Stark, it was not a kidnapping, rather it was young love."
He raised one of his eyebrows, "No, he was married to Elia Martell. Rhaegar didn't...he would never associate himself with a...some Northern woman." he barely avoided using the word whore instead. "And even if it were true, why not tell the usurper and Starks brother? Why not-"
"Lyanna was betrothed to Robert Baratheon, as Rhaegar was married to Elia Martell." his uncle interrupted, while also sharing some news Viserys already knew. "But that did not stop them, Rhaegar…"
The Maester stopped when his fingers felt the letter he must have been looking for. It had a dragon and a wolf printed on the paper. "Rhaegar had his marriage to Elia annulled, and in a secret ceremony, he wed Lyanna Stark with only a high septon and two kingsguard to witness."
This was certainly news to him. Not only was he technically right all along about the lies concerning his brother, but Rhaegar had actually set aside the Dornish for the Northern girl. "Tell me more, like why didn't they just say something when the rebellion began?"
Aemon paused for a second, and held the letter he had been searching for firm in his hand. "Another time, Viserys." his uncle told him as he rose from his seat and used his empty right hand to guide him around the chambers. "Another time."
Eddard
As darkness set over the North, Ned sat in his chambers with his wife, preparing to go to bed.
It had been a long day, spending time with his sons, two daughters who were toddlers now, and informing Maester Luwin to send ravens throughout the North informing Neds Bannermen to be on the lookout for Viserys Targaryen.
Tomorrow he would depart himself to search for the boy, the lad was after all his responsibility. And gods he hoped Viserys wouldn't leave the North.
Glancing over at the crib his year old son lay in, he wondered how he had been blessed with four beautiful children, Robb, Sansa, Arya, and Bran.
But he would always know part of the reason, because his brother and father were killed. Had Brandon not marched to Kings Landing and got him and father killed, then Catelyn would be his brother's wife, and Ned could only guess where his life would go from there.
When his wife walked over to the bed, and sat down, the sigh she gave let him know something was wrong. "Ned, I need to tell you something."
He had almost forgotten about their brief conversation on the balcony. "Tell me."
"It's about Jon." she said plainly. Gods he hoped this wasnt another one of her requests to have him leave the North. "When he got sick...it was my doing Ned."
At first he thought he misheard her. Had she just confessed to attempting to murder Jon? "How was it your doing?"
She sighed, and had her head turned away from him, but he could tell she felt guilt. "When you brought that boy home I couldn't bare to look at him, for your betrayal. And the Targaryens being here put our family in danger."
Ned rolled his eyes, tired of hearing the same story of how she thought he made a mistake with bringing them here. "While you were away, I went to my sept and prayed to the gods, I prayed for them to take the Targaryens away from here, and for Jon, I...I prayed for..for his death."
He couldn't believe what he just heard. Rising to walk over to Catelyn's side of the bed, his face turned. Wanting to be rid of Jon he supposed he could understand, but praying for death, "Tell me this isn't true." he demanded in a stern tone. "You prayed for a boys death."
Ned thought he heard a sniffle, as she had her head bowed. "When he got the pox, and Viserys disappeared, I knew I was the worst person alive."
Now that was an over exaggeration, but still, this was not something he would stand for. "For eight years now, I have put up with your treatment of Jon, of The Targaryens." he paused to breathe, not wanting to get more angered. "But how dare you pray for the death of a child, of a child I love!"
At that point he knew she was getting upset, "Im sorry Ned...I have regretted it-"
"Let me make this very clear for you!" he cut her off, almost shouting. "Jon is my blood, he is as much a Stark as I or Robb are, and the next time you dare to-"
"Lord Stark," a voice came from the door as it opened. Ned tried taking deep breaths to calm down, trying not to look at the woman he had loved, the wife he couldn't recognize. "I do hope i'm not interrupting, but you said that should any-"
"What is it Luwin?" Ned asked, cutting Luwins sentence short.
Sensing the tension in the room, the Maester simply nodded and decided to get it out. "Viserys has been seen at the Wall. Maester Aemon sent a raven after your brother brought him the Targaryen boy."
Calming down and clearing his head to think straight, he supposed it wasnt so surprising that Viserys would want to see Aemon. The question was how did the boy know about him? "Alright Luwin, tell Hullen to ready the horses."
The Measter furrowed his brows confused. "The hour is late my lord, should we not-"
"I need to clear my head, and the boy will have a few more weeks with his uncle while we ride for the Wall." Ned assured the Maester after he interrupted him.
Turning back to his wife, he noticed she truly was upset, and full of guilt and he very much hoped she was regretful. "We will speak when I return." he promised before exiting the room.
Viserys
At this point, he wasn't even going to bother saying this was the coldest he had ever been, for every time he did it just got worse.
It was remarkable to him the difference between the warmer yet still cold days at the Wall versus the beyond freezing nights. No wonder taking the black was a punishment, it was an icy hell to freeze away in.
For the past few hours in the middle of the night, he had been sitting a foot from the fire in his great uncle's chambers as he slept, and snored, though he was more annoyed with the cold than the snoring.
All he had besides the fire to prevent him from freezing was an old black cloak that was currently not being used by a ranger, since the Wall was so undermanned.
As it grew colder, he tried laying down next to the flames, covering himself with the cloak. 'How does nobody freeze to death up here?' he wondered. Certainly there had to be a great many that did. But he would not be one of them, he was the blood of the dragon, the ancient blood of old Valyria, and the last hope for his family.
An hour later, he was still cold. And while a part of him wanted to stay by the fire, he didn't want to lay down all night and not fall asleep.
So, wondering what he could possibly do in this cold hell, Viserys wrapped the cloak tighter around himself, wanting to try to keep warm. Though it was a futile attempt.
He walked around the room, trying to find his brother's messages to read and keep him somewhat less bored and hopefully take his mind off the cold.
It was really dark, so he grabbed a lantern from the desk and lit it, and began to look around the chamber for the chest with his house sigil that contained the letters.
As he slowly crept over to where Aemon put it, he noticed a couple other chests. One had the sigil of house Stark, while another, wider one had some white, one-headed dragon in a similar design to that of his own house.
But there was a smaller chest with the Targaryen dragon and the Stark Direwolf printed on both sides. "Wonder what that's for."
Acting out of curiosity, Viserys opened the chest with the Direwolf and dragon sigils, and found only a couple letters, one from Old Town, the rest from his brother.
Wondering why a letter from Old Town was in there, he picked up the old message and read it.
Maester Aemon
I received your letter, and as I told the prince after I married him to Lady Lyanna Stark, I will take our conversation to the grave. But for your theory, it is possible that the prince and Lyanna Stark's child lives. You were most right, Lord Eddard Stark would not have said something had he found his sister pregnant or had he found the child prince Rhaegar hoped to name Visenya, believing for whatever reason the child would be a girl. If the child lives, Lord Stark knows the truth. You would be wise to contact him for more information, after all, Prince Rhaegar's siblings are his new wards.
High Septon, Maynard