MARGAERY

The harsh jolting of the wheelhouse as it went over a hole in the road, pulled Margaery´s eyes from the city that loomed over them, forcing her to suppress a grunt of irritation. It made the brunette wish now more than ever that she was traveling on horseback.

Her grandmother, on the other hand felt no need to hide her displeasure at the driver. "Be careful you fool; I do not pay you to try and kill me."

Olenna Tyrell slammed her wooden walking stick into the roof of their wheelhouse in her anger. Even though Marge heard the driver call out his apologies for their discomfort, she knew that it did little to lessen the Queen of Thorns' annoyance at the man.

"Grandmother, please." Marge halfheartedly tried to calm the older woman down, knowing that it would do no good. "It is not his fault."

"Do not tell me what to do young lady." Her grandmother said in her stern, no nonsense tone of voice that she had used so often when Loras had been causing trouble when they had been children. "If I am paying the man to do a job and he does not do it properly then I am well within my rights to scold him."

Margaery felt irritated at her grandmother's tone of voice when she spoke to her. Marge hated that lady Olenna was speaking to her like a child as she was being carted off to the capital to be married.

Marge would have been ecstatic if at the end of the journey, she would have been marrying the King. Instead, she was being dragged off to marry his little brother, Lord Renly. A man that was more attracted to Loras then the Rose of Highgarden.

The insult burned at her, the anger and frustration build in her body at the thought that she was being made to marry Renly Baratheon. Margaery liked Renly well enough, however she did not want to be the Lady of Storm´s End.

It was her dream to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Marge had worked towards being that goal for her entire life and now all that hard work was being thrown away.

"Sulking will get you nowhere darling." Olenna Tyrell said much softer than before and sent the younger woman a careful look. "You need to make the best of the situation." The words only served to irritate Margaery even further.

The sting of failure cut at the young woman. Lady Olenna had trained her from the moment Margaery took her first steps to take up the role of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

All that effort on her grandmother's part was wasted, years and years of helping Marge to achieve perfection, to play the role she had been born to do, for nothing.

"Make the best of the situation?" Marge said in a low disbelieving tone, trying her best to keep her voice from cracking with the disappointment and anger at the injustice. "I thought the plan was making me a Queen, not the wife of a Lord Paramount?"

When the news traveled to them, that Cersei Lannister had been imprisoned for adultery and incest, she had practically floated around Highgarden in her happiness that finally the title was in Marge´s grasp.

Then the letter had arrived, one that made it clear that Marge was not the King´s first choice. Rather he wanted to marry Sansa Stark, the daughter of his old friend.

"I cannot believe that King Robert is picking a child over me." Tearing her eyes from her grandmother to turn to look out the window, watching the city, feeling the dread build in her belly as the pungent stench assaulted her nose.

If Margaery could not be Queen, she would rather not leave Highgarden. It was her home and the most beautiful place in the Seven Kingdoms.

Olenna snorted crudely, making Margaery turn to stare at her with wide brown eyes. "I think he is being uncharacteristically smart, especially when one takes into account his blunder with the Northern lords."

Marge opened and closed her mouth at her grandmother in surprise and horror. "What in the name of the Seven are you talking about? He could have children that had blood ties into the Reach, which happens to be the second richest Kingdom, after the Westerlands. Instead, he chose some child from that frozen wasteland in the North."

Margaery knew that she was letting the anger and frustration getting the better of her, the North was quickly growing in power and riches and was quickly closing the gap between themselves and the Reach.

"Do not be a fool Margaery, it does not suit you." Olenna gave her a hard stare. "If Robert had not asked for you to marry his brother, I would have wanted a betrothal between you and the Stark heir; since King Robert is insisting on marrying the Stark girl."

"You would have me married to a Northern barbarian?"

"A rich Northern barbarian, who has ties to the Vale and if Brynden and Edmure Tully die without children, will inherit the Riverlands." Her grandmother took a victorious bite of the fig in her hand and smiled smugly. "I suspect that Robert is more interested in entering the throne into that alliance rather than marrying some girl who cannot be older than thirteen, it is also likely some ploy to calm the Northern lords."

Yes, she remembered her grandmother had been stunned at the King´s stupidity when he had denied Eddard Stark the funds of the Wall around five years ago, if she remembered correctly her grandmother had predicted that it would push the Northern lords into a rebellion against Robert.

However, nothing had happened.

"You also thought that they would rebel grandmother, yet they did not." Margaery held back the smugness of her tone as she reminded Olenna Tyrell of the prediction that did not come true.

A rarity for her grandmother but still, it could happen.

"There is still time."

The words made Marge frown. "If they were going to rebel, they have done so by now."

"Not if they were waiting for the right moment." The old woman countered, still nibbling on her fig.

"The right moment? King Robert denied them funds of the Wall after he did not honor them after either rebellion. I think that the moment has passed them by, after King Robert turned a blind eye to them not paying taxes and has offered Lord Stark´s daughter his hand in marriage."

Her grandmother let out a shrill laugh. "Robert had no choice but to turn a blind eye to the Northern lords not paying taxes, if he had not, Lord Stark would not have another choice but to rebel. His lords could have turned against him if they thought he was siding with Robert and against them."

Marge could see the reason in her grandmother´s words. According to everything she had heard, the Northern lords had always been unruly and hard to control, even with a strong and faithful warden of the North.

"And I doubt that Lord Stark would have wanted to side with Robert anyway." Margaery frowned as her grandmother threw the fig on the rose stamped plate, while daintily using a rose embroidered handkerchief to wash away any fig juice on her lips before she continued.

"Furthermore, the North owes Robert little and less, so why on earth would they want anything to do with him? I am sure that the only reason they have not declared themselves free and independent nation is Eddard Stark´s and King Robert´s friendship."

Margaery scowled at her grandmother's words. "Robert avenged the killing of Brandon and Rickard Stark when he went to war to get Lyanna Stark back. They owe him for that."

She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth as her grandmother send her a look that she usually reserved only for her son, Mace.

"Have you been listing to those damned singers again Margaery? I thought better of you." Olenna´s words made her cheeks burn with humiliation, as she was the matriarch's favorite, Marge was not used to being scolded by her grandmother.

Opening her mouth to defend herself, Margaery was silenced with one look from Lady Olenna. "It was Jon Arryn, not Robert Baratheon that raised his banners in rebellion first and that was because Aerys demanded Eddard Stark´s and King Robert´s heads. If anyone avenged Lord Rickard´s and his son´s death it was Jaime Lannister when he killed the Mad King."

"Robert went to war to get lady Lyanna back." She tried to argue.

"Do not be a fool Margaery, Robert Baratheon went to war to claim the Iron throne and to sooth his own wounded pride, I highly doubt that if they had managed to rescue Lyanna Stark that the man would have wanted her back as the girl was soiled goods by then."

Margaery had enough of this conversation. "It does not matter; I should be Queen." She had worked harder than anyone for the crown, she had worked with orphans and poor people from all over the Reach, made sure that they did not go hungry and that they were taken care of. She deserved to be Queen.

"Silly girl." Her grandmother reached out and tucked a lock of her brown hair behind her ear. "You will be Queen and I believe sooner than you think."

Marge frowned but said nothing, waiting for the older woman to explain herself. "Robert Baratheon is an old fat man, that is about to throw himself into a war with Tywin Lannister. I think we can all agree that his days are rather limited."

"Then Stannis will become King." Marge said rather sullenly, making Olenna Tyrell cackle.

"As I said, the Baratheon brothers will soon be entering into battle against Tywin Lannister and men die all the time in a war. Robert and Stannis will most likely both head off to the battlefield, leaving Renly at King´s Landing to rule the realms, as the gods know that the man is useless when it comes to battle. Leaving you ample time to get him to put a babe in your belly."

Marge almost smiled at the thought of having the lords and ladies of Westeros declare her husband as King and her as his Queen but that fantasy was dashed when another thought entered her mind. "Grandmother, King Robert and lord Stannis are both capable military commanders, not to mention that the King is one of the greatest warriors of the age. I highly doubt that he will fall."

Lady Olenna sniffed loudly before sending her an annoyed look. "Margaery, think. King Robert is an old drunk that has not fought a war since the Greyjoy Rebellion. The man has done nothing but drink, eat and whore himself into oblivion since then, how do you expect a man like that to survive against Tywin Lannister?"

Margaery wanted to ask the older woman if it was not just rumors but thought better of it. "I am not sure I want to put my destiny up to chance."

Her grandmother looked at her for a moment, before nodding with approval. "Good."

Silence fell over them, Margaery using the time to stare out the window to study the city she was to live in for the foreseeable future.

There was not as much squalor in the streets of King´s Landing as she had been led to believe. Marge had been told for years that the capital was on the very best of days a pit of filth, not even fit for pigs, but seeing it now, it was not as bad as she had imagined.

However, the stink still crawled into the wheelhouse, through the wood and every crevice that it could find.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marge could see her grandmother pull out a handkerchief and place it over her nose.

Despite the churning of her stomach, Marge did not do the same. It would not be a good first impression for the nobles at court and the people of the city to see her hiding her face at the smell.

No, they would see a smiling, lively young woman. A woman who charmed everyone she met; someone they would be proud to call Queen.

Lady Olenna Tyrell was right, despite that King Robert wanted to marry the Stark girl, it did not mean that Margaery would not wear the crown in the end. Whether she would be Robert´s Queen or Renly´s, in the end the title would be hers.

JON

Waking with a gasp, it took Jon a moment to realize that he was not running for his life in King´s Landing, with Drogon burning the city around him. Taking a few breaths to calm his racing heart, Jon forced his sweat covered body to move as the terror receded.

Despite realizing that he was safe in his bed, Jon was sure that he could taste ash and smell blood as the faint light from the dying embers in the hearth cast a hazy glow around the room.

Turning his head to the window, he observed stars that were still lingering in the darkness but he knew that dawn was still an hour or two away. Deciding that he would get no more sleep tonight, Jon slowly rose from the bed, every movement sluggish as he lumbered to the basin to wash away the cold sweat from the nightmare.

Jon glanced at the small looking glass that hung on the wall over the basin, almost recoiling when catching a glimpse of his appearance. His skin was almost grey, making his already dark eyes nearly black and the bags under them purple, like he had been awake for a week.

It made the healing cut that split his right eyebrow and traveled down his cheek even more noticeable than it had been before he went to bed.

Jon tore his eyes away from the image in the looking glass and splashed cold water on his face, hoping that he would feel better in a few hours, when they would be on their way south to Winterfell.

Jon tried focusing on the impending journey, however the dream clawed at his mind, demanding his attentions.

Work, he thought to himself. He should get dressed and head to the solar, to finish up the last of the letters that needed to be sent before leaving Queenscrown. Not only would it serve to distract him from the memories; it would also lessen the paperwork waiting for him at his return.

Hours later, when finishing a letter to a Braavosi trader, a small hand landed on his shoulder. Jumping at the touch, his head snapped to the person who had pulled him away from the letter.

Gilly was standing there, with a knowing look on her face. "You have to eat." She pushed the letters on his desk and put a plate before him.

"Is it that time already?" Jon asked her, rubbing his forehead again, silently cursing himself for having forgotten to go down to the hall, so that he could break his fast with the others.

Gilly nodded at him. "Your uncle and Tormund Giantsbane wondered where you were, though I assured them that you likely only forgot to eat as you had a few letters to reply, before you leave again." After a moment Gilly grinned, showing off her overbite as she added cheekily. "Milord."

Jon snorted, glad that her confidence in herself was growing more with every day that passed.

Gilly placed her hand in the pocket of her dress and pulled out a bundle of letters. "These came for you this morning."

Staring at the letters, he let out a sigh. Jon had hoped that he would have been able to leave Queenscrown without having one unanswered letter, although now he could see that it was unlikely to happen.

After quickly finishing the meal, Gilly grabbed the plate, leaving him to go through the letters.

He did not intend to answer most of them right now, only to see if any of them were of great importance and could not wait.

One by one, Jon started to set the letters to the side, until his eyes landed on a letter that had come from Winterfell. The handwriting was so recognizable to him, that he knew it at once.

His stomach leapt and his heart beat faster as he stared at the neat and flowing script. However, unlike every other letter that he had received from Sansa before, this one was only addressed to the Lord of Queenscrown, not Jon Snow.

Staring at it, his brows pulled together, wondering why she had addressed him by his title and not by the name he hid under as she had always done.

Slowly he turned the letter around, seeing the snarling direwolf on the back, as the possibilities tumbled around in his mind trying to figure out why she had suddenly referred to him by his title.

Breaking the seal, he began to read its contents.

Every word filled him with more dread than the next. By the time he finished, all he wanted to do was go back to his bedchamber and crawl under the covers; pretending that this day had not happened.

The neatly written words made him feel like someone was squeezing his heart and his throat threatened to close.

After having read the missive three more times, Jon placed it face down on the desk before rubbing his eyes, trying to force the feeling of exhaustion away but the attempt was in vain.

Giving up, Jon glanced at the glass decanter on the desk that was filled with Dragonwater, the desire to have a drink was hard to push down but not only was it too early, he needed to keep a clear head now that the time had come.

Jon closed his eyes again and concentrated, focusing on the familiar connections in his mind. With practiced ease, he connected with the three dragons, letting them know what he wanted of them.

Their excitement rushed through his bones, pushing away the dark feelings that had been clouding his mind. Now that he needed to take the Iron throne from Robert Baratheon, Jon would soon be seeing his family again. He would be reunited with Ghost again.

Happiness flooded him at the thought of seeing the faithful direwolf once more. While warging into Ghost from this distance soothed the ache he felt at not having the white direwolf by his side, it was not enough. Jon needed to see his trusted friend in person again.

Without meaning to, Jon found himself linking his mind to Ghost´s. Feeling the direwolf´s excitement, knowing that he would be coming home sooner than he thought, made Jon want to smile and laugh.

The honesty of dragons and direwolves was always something he admired and found endearing. They never pretended to be anything else than what they were.

A knock on the door broke through his thoughts, pulling Jon back completely to his own mind.

Called for the person to enter, Jon was not surprised to see Gilly poking her head into the room again. "Jon, your uncle and Tormund Giantsbane are here to see you."

"Thank you, I will see them now." Gilly nodded and allowed the two men into the solar. While Tormund swaggered in, Jon´s uncle looked as troubled as he had been ever since he had seen the Other.

Tormund planted himself in a chair in front of Jon´s desk with a large grin on his face. "Are you still hiding? The spearwives have all been wondering when they are going to see your pretty face."

Jon fought to keep his face impassive, sending his now grinning uncle an irritated look. "I am not hiding. I have been trying to make sure that I do not have urgent unanswered letters before we leave."

Tormund snorted and reached for the decanter and poured himself a glass of Dragonwater. "If you say so."

Benjen coughed; his cheeks turned red with effort of keeping his laugh to himself. Jon was starting to regret that the two men had gotten to know each other, as they seemed to bond over their shared enjoyment of taking the piss out of him.

Even though the two men were japing at his expense, hearing them joke so easily made Jon feel a little better, knowing that Tormund would not be likely to change his behavior towards him even now that the Northern lords knew the truth.

Jon picked up the missive from Sansa and handed it to his uncle so that the man could read it. Tormund glanced at it, then at Jon and back again before realization washed over his face.

As Benjen continued to read, he looked more worried with every word. "They know." He seemed stuck with surprise; his eyes still firmly locked on the letter in his hands.

"Who knows what?" Tormund was grinning from ear to ear. Thankfully he managed to hide his beaming from the black brother, who was too distracted to even notice the wide smile on large man´s face.

"They know that Jon is…" Jon watched as his uncle trailed off, looking uncertain.

"It is fine, Uncle Benjen. There is no harm in telling Tormund." Jon had to bite the inside of his cheek when said man stared at Benjen with an excited look on his face. "It is probably for the best that he finds out now."

Tormund was looking at Benjen, barely managing to hide the excited glint in his blue eyes while waiting for the man to tell him what was in the letter. As Jon´s uncle explained to Tormund everything he already knew, the Freefolk leader seemed to fight hard not to show his excitement.

"So, this Raggar Taggaryan is your father?" Tormund asked, a feigned look of surprise made Jon want to roll his eyes and glance at his uncle, who was looking at the red head with suspicion.

"Rhaegar Targaryen." Benjen corrected, blue-grey eyes studying the Freefolk leader.

Tormund waved him of. "So, this makes you the King of the Kneelers?"

Jon opened his mouth to respond but Benjen was quicker. "That makes him the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms." The First Ranger had a deep frown on his face for being called a kneeler.

"And this would make it possible for you to rally more warriors against the Others?"

"If we take the Iron throne and manage to get most of the lords on our side." Jon rubbed his bearded cheek, grey eyes darting to where the sword Blackfyre had stayed hidden for years. "It will be hard to convince the lords of Westeros that the Others are returning without proof."

"Aye, I would imagine." Tormund nodded thoughtfully. "It is not something one wants to believe."

"Lord Commander Mormont is probably already working on providing proof." Uncle Benjen spoke confidently. "Jeor will not rest, with those…things out there and we will need all the help we can get."

Then Jon felt the familiar scratching in his mind, letting him know that it was time for them to go.

Jon stood up and walked to the bookcase on the right side of the room, putting a halt to any conversation between the other two men. Reaching behind it, Jon grabbed the cloth covered sword.

Making his way back to the desk, Jon unwrapped the cloth from the black sheath that held the sword of Aegon the Conqueror. It was not until he had unveiled the hilt that Benjen seemed to recognize it. "Is that…?"

His mother´s brother stood up, blue-grey eyes firmly fixed on the blade, while Tormund looked a little confused, not understanding the significance of the bastard sword in Jon´s hands.

"Aye, it is Blackfyre." Jon pulled the weapon out of its sheath to show the men it was really valyrian steel attached to the ink black hilt that was adorned with a ruby, the size of a hen´s egg and the two roaring dragons.

"It has been lost since…" Uncle Benjen breathed, hardly believing what he was seeing, making Jon smile faintly.

"Since the death of Bittersteel." Jon finished, handing his uncle the blade so that the man could study it closer.

"How did you find it? Where was it?" His uncle hurriedly asked, eyes still on the sword.

"I have my ways." Jon said with a half a smile on his face as Benjen turned his eyes on him.

"You have your ways?" The First Ranger did not sound like he believed him at all. "Countless number of people have been searching for this sword ever since it was lost, including princes and Kings and yet here it is, in your hands?"

The man stared at him with such intensity that Jon thought that he was trying to read his mind, thankfully, Tormund decided to speak up. "I don´t think that finding one sword is much trouble for him, not after having killed an Other singlehandedly."

"Not really the same thing, now is it?" Benjen sent the other man an irritated look.

"Uncle, do not worry how I got it." Jon tried to reassure his uncle.

The First Ranger stared at him, still holding the sword of the Targaryen Kings in his hand. "It is my job to worry about you, Jon. I will always worry about you, no matter how old you get or what titles you hold."

They all stayed silent for a moment, Jon feeling his heart swell at the thought of how much his uncle cared.

His mother´s brother looked back at the sword in his hands. "I never thought that I would see this sword with my own eyes." Benjen spoke quietly, his eyes drifting from the egg sized ruby to the steel that had been folded in on itself a thousand times and forged with Valyrian spells. "Your mother and I used to play pretend, that I was Aegon the Conqueror, while she was Lord Torren."

"Torren and Aegon never fought." Jon stated, wanting to hear more about his mother.

"Aye." Benjen handed him back the bastard sword. "It did not matter to us; we were never attentive students of history."

As his uncle spoke, Jon strapped Blackfyre to his hips, mirroring Darksister. He felt a sort of completion, having both ancestral swords of his father´s family, finally united, after such a long time apart. "We should head out; I think that it is time for us to leave for Winterfell." Jon spoke, feeling excitement at the thought of seeing his family again and dread, at the thought of having to head to war.

"Aye, we should head to the stables, I am sure your people have everything ready for the journey south." Benjen spoke as Jon finished attaching Blackfyre to his person.

"That will not be necessary." Jon said, looking at his uncle´s bewildered face.

Benjen Stark opened and closed his mouth with a frown on his face. "What do you…?" He trailed off, seemingly realizing what Jon had planned.

As Jon lead the other two men out of the tower keep, he heard Tormund mumble lowly under his breath, a few words managed to reach Jon´s ears. Words like: Not again. He isn't really? Do I have to…?

"Do not worry Tormund." Jon smiled at his friend over his shoulder. "You will be perfectly safe."

Tormund sent him a dark look as they made their way into the late morning sun. Jon ignored his red headed friend and called one of the guards to him.

As Jon was giving the man his orders, the guard stared at him with wide eyes, clearly not believing what he was hearing. The guard stood there, rooted to the ground but when Jon urged him to carry out the orders, he rushed away, but not without glancing at Jon over his shoulder, befuddled look on his face.

It took some time for all the guards to coordinate and make sure that the people around the settlement were warned not to take up arms, no matter how frightened they might be in the next few moments.

The warnings seemed to have piqued the curiosity of the people of Queenscrown, as it seemed that everyone was halting their work to come to where Jon and the others were standing to see what was going to happen.

His heart was beating hard in his chest as his palms started to sweat at the worry that filled him at the thought of how the people might react.

Jon´s hands moved from his sides to his belt, to the hilts of his swords. Standing still seemed almost impossible as his nerves seemed to burn with anticipation. However, the closer they came, the nervousness was overshadowed by the excitement he felt.

Staring at the sky to the West of the small town and feeling his muscles relax as they made their way closer, Jon could hear the people whisper amongst themselves, puzzled over what was happening.

Turning to the guards, he told them yet again to keep everyone calm and the people would see the truth of his words very soon.

Everyone stared at him, until every living soul heard it.

The deafening roar that came from the West, echoed off stones and water before the white and gold dragon appeared from the clouds.

Despite the warnings he had issued, people still started to panic. Jon rushed to order the guards to calm the people and assure them that they were in no danger. As the frightened guards hurried to do as he told them, Jon closed his eyes and concentrated.

Jon opened his eyes as the emerald-green dragon emerged with a shrieking roar, filled with what he knew was joy.

As the guards managed to calm the people, Jon could see everyone look to the sky with awe and fear on their faces.

"Good people of Queenscrown." Jon called, getting the people´s attention despite the dragons flying in the sky. "They will not hurt you; I give you my word that they are not here to cause you any harm." Him speaking directly to the inhabitants of the small town seemed to have quelled their fears a little but he knew that it would not take much for the terror to overtake them.

Another roar broke through, this one heralding the arrival of Algernon, the largest of the three.

Now seeing that the dragons were making no move to attack, many seemed to grow more courageous as they start to point to the sky.

Taking a deep breath, Jon started to make his way out of the gates of the town. It only took a few moments before the presence of his uncle and Tormund, rushing after him, was felt.

"Why are they not landing in the town?" Tormund asked, sending him a quizzical look.

"I did not want the people to panic, they are frightened enough as it is." Jon countered, remembering how everyone in the North had looked at Rhaegal and Drogon with fear and hate in their eyes.

Making their way in silence out of the gates, Jon glanced back, he could see that people had started to edge their way out on the walls of the town.

No sooner than he had turned his head again, a voice called. "My lord."

The three men all halted and turned, watching as Ser Allyn ran to them. "My lord, wait please."

"Ser Allyn, what are you doing here?"

The knight reached them, his face pale and eyes wide. "My lord, I am sworn to protect you, from all harm. Even though…" He trailed off as his eyes wandered to the sky above, where the dragons were flying.

While this delay on his road to greet the dragons was making him irritated, Jon found himself smiling a bit at the man´s devotion to his mission to see him safe. Gesturing for Ser Allyn to follow them, Jon continued a bit further out from the gate.

Turning his attention from the men following him, Jon felt the anticipation rush through his veins, making him walk faster.

"Stay here." Jon turned to the three men who had followed him out of the town. Only Tormund did not look like he wanted to protest.

"Jon-."

"My lord-."

"I will be fine." Jon insisted. "They will not hurt me." Benjen and Ser Allyn did not look like they believed him but the two men seemed to have realized that it was a lost cause.

Jon turned again and walked a little further away.

His heart soared as he glanced at the three dragons and after he had walked a short distance, they refused to wait any longer.

With a roar, Illyrion swooped downward. Jon smiled at the pale dragon´s eagerness that he felt as his own, along with the those of Earendil´s and Algernon´s.

As the white dragon landed, Jon found himself in awe of his sheer size. Even though Illyrion was still the smallest of the three and would likely always be, he was still larger now than Drogon had been at the time of the burning of King´s Landing.

Illyrion let out a soft cooing sound and shoved his gigantic nose towards Jon, begging for a rub. Letting out a laugh, Jon indulged the pale dragon, who´s golden eyes closed in enjoyment of the treat.

No sooner than Jon had started to pet the smallest of the dragons, another roar could be heard as Earendil descended from the sky´s. Gasps and whispers could be heard from the walls of the town as the emerald dragon landed and started to demand Jon´s attention for himself.

The even larger green nose bumped into Jon´s side, making a smile spread across his face. The two dragons stood shoulder to shoulder, ignoring everyone staring at them in favor of his attentions.

Then, Jon felt Algernon´s patience wearing thin as the largest of the three dived for the ground. The black dragon landed, causing the earth to shake. Making his way directly towards them, Algernon used his larger bulk to push the other two so that he could move in between them.

Earendil huffed in annoyance, letting black smoke out of his nostrils, while the pale dragon hissed angerly at the black dragon. However, Algernon ignored them, more interested in getting a nose rub the others had been reveling in.

The two smaller dragons quickly let go of their irritation at their bigger sibling and started to beg for rubs on the nose again. The happiness Jon could feel emanate off the three dragons made a memory pull itself to the forefront of his mind.

It was the memory of when he had first taken flight on a dragon´s back, or more accurately, only moments before he had gracelessly climbed on Rhaegal´s back. When Daenerys had told him that Rhaegal and Drogon did not like the North.

However, here Algernon, Earendil and Illyrion were happy, healthy and growing bigger every day, the three dragons were not suffering from whatever had been ailing Rhaegal and Drogon.

Over the last few years, it had been on his mind when he saw the dragons when he went on his midnight flights. Now, seeing them in the sunlight outside the walls of Queenscrown, his theory seemed truer than ever before.

Jon was now sure that Daenerys had been wrong and that Drogon and Rhaegal had not disliked the North, rather they were grieving the death of their sibling.

After spending years warging into the mind of the three dragons and spending every possible moment he could spare with them, he realized that dragons had rich social lives and needed to connect with others.

"Jon?" He turned to look at his uncle, who was staring at the three dragons with awe and a bit of fear in his eyes.

"It is alright." Jon assured his uncle. "They will not hurt anyone."

Benjen did not look comforted but started to inch forward where Jon was standing with the three dragons. Tormund, who had seen dragons before, did look a little green but he clearly was not as afraid as Benjen.

Perhaps the memories of having been forced to flee on Drogon´s back when running for their lives during that foolish expedition North of the Wall.

"They are much bigger than I thought." Benjen breathed out, his eyes landing on one dragon only to fly to another rapidly. "I imagined that they were just large enough to ride, not…"

"My lord…" Ser Allyn´s eyes were on Jon, then they flew to the dragons and back to Jon again, the realization dawned on his face. "You are…? Are you the…?"

As the knight struggled to find his words, Benjen seemed to regain his composure and spoke. "My nephew is indeed the son of my sister, Lyanna Stark and her husband, prince Rhaegar Targaryen and the true King of the Seven Kingdoms."

The older knight stared at Jon for a moment, before dropping down on one knee. "Your grace."

It was at that moment, Jon noticed a group of people gathering outside the wooden gates, trying to get a better view of the dragons. However, now they were all staring at Ser Allyn, who was kneeling in front of Jon.

"Rise, my friend." Jon took a few steps forward and helped the man back to his feet. "We have important matter to attend to. I am sorry that I did not tell you, only a few people knew the truth but now it is time to stop hiding."

"You intend to take the throne." Ser Allyn stated rather than asking, eyes determined. "I should go with you, your grace. To guard you and help to take back the throne of your ancestors."

"Ser Allyn, I need you to stay here and lead the people while I am away." Jon placed his hand on the other man´s shoulder. "Our people need someone to guard and guide them, someone they trust, just like we planned."

Glancing back at the three dragons, Jon added. "And I need you to continue to tell people what you saw on the other side of the Wall, about the dead and how they can be killed with fire."

The knight nodded slowly, looking torn between relief and disappointment. "I will do as you ask my King. Queenscrown will be waiting for your return."

Jon thanked the man, knowing that the knight would make sure his people were safe while Jon was away at war and would make sure that everyone understood their need for dragons to fight against the dead.

With that, Jon turned to his uncle Benjen and his friend. "Are you ready to leave for Winterfell?" When seeing the grin on Jon´s face, the large man groaned, knowing that he would have to climb on the back of a dragon again.