Merry Christmas everyone! I have something special to give and that is some of the cut content from the original Epilogue! At first, the plan was to have a story for each of the Targling Children as well as what happened, Daenerys' POV in the previous chapter was modified from what originally going to be Rhaella's, for example. I want to give a big thanks to Longclaw for helping me with the part of this that kept me a year late on publishing it. That's right, I meant to get this out last year but I failed. Well not today!
Jorah Targaryen -fourteen years after Queen Daenerys Targaryen's death-
The cold blizzard winds bit at his face and did every effort to push Jorah back from where he came. The snow came up to his knees and every time he took a step it felt as if he had just fought a duel with Arthur or Aemon. Despite the exhaustion, he was freezing. His heavy cloak was nothing but a tattered shawl now and he didn't dress right when he came to the Winterlands. To make things worse, his horse died after he got lost trying to make his way to the Fist of the First men. He could have arrived a month ago, but traveling on the road was too risky. He didn't want to be found by anyone who would recognize him. And given that he had both the silver hair and purple eyes of a Targaryen, it would be a miracle if anyone didn't recognize who he was. He'd been lucky the past two years, but his luck was running out.
Jorah pulled at his sled that carried his possessions. The only things he had left were very few. His last bit of remaining food, his bow and three arrows, his money, camping gear, and of course his egg. He kept it tucked away under everything to keep it from the cold. He could have used the furs to warm himself, but the feelings in his mind and heart drove him to protect the egg instead.
He came to the top of a hill and did not see the sudden drop. He fell forward into the snow and rolled down the steep slope. He lost his sled and felt the left side of body hit something hard, a boulder maybe. The bottom finally came and Jorah felt like he landed in a cloud but his body was in great pain. Even though he was becoming numb from the engulfing cold, he hurt so much. Even his rage did not subside it.
'So this is where I die. A cold grave for a cold hearted prince.' The world began to darken. The pain started to fade away as well, but his rage did not. It was all Lyanna's fault that he was here. She should be the one freezing to death, not him.
Everything became a blur before the dreams took him. Is this what death is? Just an endless dream? There was nothing that his consciousness saw, only a voice that he heard, a woman's voice.
'Promise me, Ned.' Whoever's voice it was, Jorah did not know. And yet, he felt he did. She kept repeating those words in dying whispers. 'Promise me, Ned. Promise me.'
But then the voice changed into someone else. It changed to his mother's voice. 'Promise me, Jon. Promise me.'
Jorah slowly woke up from his dream. He was no longer stuck in the freezing snow, but on the softness of a fur padding. Everything was a blur, but he could see that he was inside a tent, a rugged but well made one.
The blizzard still raged on outside and there was no fire lit. Yet for some reason, Jorah felt a great warmth wrapped around him. He then realized that he was completely naked under the furs covering him and that the warmth was from someone else who was laying him. It felt like a woman given how soft the skin was and the plush feeling of a buxom pair of breasts.
He tried to move, but the slightest inching made him wince and growl. His left side jolted with pain from bashing into the boulder during his fall.
"Shh…" a calm woman's voice said. "Yeh need to rest, pretty boy." She had an arm wrapped over his body.
"Who are you?" Jorah whispered out. He couldn't find any strength to speak louder.
"The one who saved yeh're stupid arse. Now sleep. I'll keep yeh warm."
Jorah felt himself drift back into slumber. Ever since he began on his journey, he never slept peacefully on the road north. Even before then he never rested peacefully. Ever since the day his mother betrayed them all. But this time he found release into sleep with an ease of mind.
The next time Jorah woke up, the blizzard outside continued on. When he tried to move, the pain was less so then it had been. On the other side of the tent, next to all of his things, his golden dragon egg included, was a woman dressed in heavy fur clothes. She was mashing some roots together into a grotesque looking paste.
"Finally awake, Blondie?" She jested. This woman kept her hood up and her face was hidden by the angle of her head.
"How long was I asleep?" Jorah asked as he sat himself up. He grasped at his side which was bandaged as best as it could be with torn strips of cloth that came from his shirt by the looks of it.
"Three days. Yeh'd be dead had I not found yeh."
The memory of her sleeping on him rushed to his mind. "Why were you sleeping on me naked?"
She looked up and pulled down her hood, revealing herself to him. She had long auburn hair that was almost red. Her face was freckled and her features were handsome. Her eyes though were a beautiful blue like the color that leads night behind a sunset. Based on her choice of clothing, she was probably a Winter Folk, born from the Wildlings. "Yeh were colder than a White Walker, yeh were. A fire woulda burned my tent down and only got one good furs blanket. Second best way to keep warm is to strip down and lay together."
"What's the first?"
She chuckled at him as she finished mashing the paste and brought it over to him. "Best way is by fuckin'. Now eat this." she scooped some of the paste with her fingers and fed it to Jorah who gagged on it immediately. "Spit it out and I'll black yer eye."
Jorah forced himself to swallow. It was the nastiest food he'd ever tasted. He'd eaten mushy apples with worms, raw catfish, but nothing like this. It felt like the longest moments of his life eating all of the gross paste, but he never felt better after he finished. "What's your name?" He finally asked.
"Aelawyn."
"Well, Aelawyn. Thank you… for saving my life." His words felt hollow. He didn't feel grateful at all.
"No need to thank me. Yer payment covered that."
"Payment?"
"Aye, payment. Yeh didn't think I'd do it for free now?" She reached to her side and pulled out Jorah's money bag. She jostled it in her hand while repeatedly arching her brow up and down at him with a mischievous smirk. "What's a southerner like yeh do to get so much coin?"
"You mean you don't know me?"
"If yeh're lordling's son then no. And I've never met a pretty blonde that's a boy."
"I'm seventeen years old. I'm not a boy."
Aelawyn threw her head back as she laughed at him like he just told the funniest joke in the world that even Lord Tyrion would be pleased to learn. "Yeh're a boy lost in the middle of nowhere who almost froze his arse to death. So what's yer name, blondie?"
"Jorah T- Snow." If she found out who he was, then she would tell others and soon enough he would be found. He didn't want that. "And I'm not lost, I just prefer to travel off the road."
"Oh aye, I noticed that. And where's it a bastard's off to?"
"I'm not a bastard, Snow is my father's name.
"Then pick a different damn name if yeh're not wantin' to be a bastard. Yer a Snow so own up to it. Now where's a pretty blonde headin' in the largest land of nothin' in world?"
"The Fist." From what he heard, the last remnants of the Night's Watch were recruiting men to join them on a scouting mission to further lands north that remain uncharted. Supposedly, they would be exploring the realm where the fabled White Walkers came from.
"Hah! If that's where you want to go then why's it you've been walkin' the wrong way?"
Jorah froze. He had to have heard wrong. "What?"
"We're about twenty miles from King's Stand and a helluva lot more from the Fist of the First Men."
King's Stand? The castle was built where the King and his hunters faced off against a horde of wights to capture just one. Where the Queen's dragon Viserion fell to a javelin of ice.
But the castle was on the wrong side of the Winterlands that Jorah wanted to be. That place was ruled by House Breakwater and the Lord was a personal friend of the King. Jorah met him many times before whenever he came to discuss tidings with his father and it was one of the last places he wanted to be in the Winterlands!
He fell back, angry and upset at the blunder he was in.
"Aw, is the pretty blondie mad he went the wrong way?"
"Stop antagonizing me!" Jorah yelled but Aelawyn smirked at him as he seethed at his side.
"Yeh're in my tent, yeh're gonna bear with it. Unless you want to be naked in the snow where I found yeh?" She opened the flap and a burst of freezin air attacked him. He kept silent and lay back down. "That's what I thought." She closed the flap and started eating her own bit of root mush. "The fuck you goin' to the Fist for anywhy?"
Jorah gagged down another finger of the paste. "None of your bus-" his words stopped when Aelawyn reached a hand out for the flap again. He sighed and swallowed his stubbornness since he couldn't take another blast of the cold. "It's not the Fist I'm making for. I'm going to cross the Frostfangs."
Aelwyn looked at him like he was the court fool or some deranged animal. "Those cursed lands? You? If you couldn't last a simple winter here then you're fucked up the arse and out the mouth if you go there, blondie."
"Dammit, woman!" Jorah slammed his fist on his leg. "At least get it right, I'm not blonde, I'm silver-haired."
Aelawyn started to giggle. "I know, but blondie's funner and silvery doesn't quite roll off the tongue, does it? Yeh anger too easy, blondie. Is that why yeh're going to the lands where no one lives? So you, yer ego, and yer anger can fill the whole damn place up?"
"And what's wrong with that? My family didn't want me, I'll go where they won't have to worry about me anymore."
Aelawyn turned from her teasing mood to grim and angered. "Yeh're too prepared to be a real runaway. Castle yewn bow, rich clothes, and a gemstone bigger than me head. Yeh're not running to a new home. Yeh're running away from it."
Jorah sat up and hissed passed the pain. "They cast me out. If they don't want me there then fine!"
Aelawyn scoffed at him when he said that. "Yeh know nuthin', Jorah Snow." She kept eating her root and they didn't speak for the rest of their meal. It was only until the storm started dying down an hour later and Aelawyn looked out. Pleased with the turn of the weather, she returned to Jorah. "I can take yeh to King's Stand if yeh'd like. Yeh won't get far banged up like that. Rest until the next full moon if ye're that patient."
In his travels thus far, Jorah hadn't taken any serious injury like this. Perhaps some rest would do him good. He'd have to make sure he stayed out of Lord Breakwater's sight or else a raven would be gone and a dragon would arrive before the return.
"Sure. That will do."
"Then we'll go in two days." Aelwyn began disrobing. Jorah was speechless when she became bare skinned and naked in front of him without a single care. For a rough woman she certainly carried a beautiful figure.
She crawled under the furs and held onto him, bringing a great envelope of warmth. "For now," she whispered, "just sleep."
Jorah's head was pounding though. Lying down helped it a little but not enough. Aelwyn was fast asleep before him.
His head tilted over and his eyes fixed upon his dragon egg. The egg his mother gave to him, Drogon's first of his clutch. When he had reached Queenscrown several months ago, he heard that Baerristan's egg hatched and he named it Nightscale. He saw Rhaella flying atop Lyarras that day. Crazy woman was fearless on her dragon. People said maybe she should be the next sword of the Morning instead of her husband, Ned Sanstark.
The golden egg kept motionless. Once it had a great warmth to it. Once, only when he was a boy at his pregnant mother's side in her garden, Jorah thought he felt the dragon inside move.
"Mama! I felt it move! I felt it!"
His mother gave him that wonderful smile she always had, the one that had the power to warm the hearts of anyone who gazed upon it. "Your dragon is telling you he's there, waiting to come for you, Jorah." She took one of his hands and placed it on her belly where he could feel the tiniest heartbeat. "Just like your next sibling in me. They're waiting to meet you Jorah."
"I can't wait! I'll be the best big brother ever!"
"Blondie!"
Jorah's eyes opened. He didn't realize he fell asleep. Aelawyn was fully dressed in her furs and packing everything up.
"Get yer clothes on quick. I'm takin' the tent down soon."
He blinked, hadn't it only been one night? No, his mind was so foggy fro whatever that drink Aelawyn had given him last night. For the first few minutes of being awake, he completely had no recollection of the day after his first awakening, like it never happened.
It was half a struggle with the pain in his side, but Aelawyn helped him dress. It felt humiliating at first but then having her as close as she got was making him stirr. The sleep must have calmed him down, because the annoying woman who rescued him was gone and there was a strong beauty in front of him. To make things a little better, she had mended his tattered cloak into something more decent now.
Finally leaving outside for the first time in days, he found the tent resting comfortably underneath the looming branches and needles of a great fur tree low to the ground.
His side pulsed pain if he moved too much but the simple task of loading his sled proved only to make him sore. He buried his dragon egg under his furs and those under Aelwyn's collapsed tent.
Packed and ready, they both traveled for King's Stand. It was going to take them several days because of the freshly fallen snow. Luckily the weather was clear along the rest of the way, making things as good as they could be.
At first it was a tough trudge through deep snow, Aelawyn leading the way and pushing hard forward to clear a path. But as it would be, the speed was perfect for Jorah because pulling the sled too hard made his pain ache terribly but he only had small tugs of soreness as they moved on.
Things picked up when they reached the top of a hill and they both mounted the sled and went for a fast ride at the cost of getting completely sprayed and covered by snow at the bottom of the hill.
"Wooh!" Aelawyn shook off the snow that got on her face, "That was fun. I should've made me some skis." The snow was shallower at the bottom so she helped Jorah pull the sled. "So where do yeh come from, blondie?"
"King's Landing," he told her through a strained voice as he pulled, "I grew up near Dragonrise."
"Ooh, so yeh've seen the dragons all the time then? What are they like? Round here, people say that the Black Doom's as big as a mountain and the Green Demise breathes bright green fire."
Black Doom? Green Demise? "Are you talking about Drogon and Rhaegal?"
"Oh aye, but nothin' wrong with a nickname or two."
"And that's what you people call them?"
"No idea, but it's what I call them." Aelawyn said cheerfully. "So tell me about the dragons!"
Jorah grunted a sigh as he had to tug hard through the snow. "Well there's the King and late Queen's, they were both part of the first three the Queen hatched many years ago. And then there's Lyarras, one of the two the King hatched. She's ridden by Princess Rhaella. Then there's Asher, Prince Matthias's dragon and considered to be the strongest of the newborn generation. Tormaeaxys, the Red Fire. Prince Aemon's dragon got that name by the Ironborn after his turning of the battle against the Whoreborn Kraken-"
"The who?"
Jorah looked at her in total bafflement. "You've never heard of the Whoreborn Uprising?"
"Oh, that's what yeh meant. Well I've heard of it, but not much. It's what to expect when yeh're in the farthest parts of the fuckin' country."
Jorah opened his mouth to call her out on that, but the words never left his mouth as he considered that it was a fair point, so he simply shrugged and nodded. "Fair enough. Do you want more dragons or some history lessons?"
The immediate answer was usually the dragons, but Aelawyn was looking at him, studying him. "Tell me about this uprising instead."
"Oh… well alright. Are you familiar with Euron Greyjoy?"
"Him I know, the one eyed cunt slain by King Theon."
"Right, well the Whoreborn was his bastard. Whatever his real name was, nobody is alive who may have known it. He started his campaign young, when he was a lowly pirate, gathering many followers who believed in the Iron Price, even after the gains of wealth and power King Theon achieved by dissolving it, there were many who wanted things back how they were. The Whoreborn was smart and considered the best seafarer alive at the time. You'd think it's ridiculous but his skills and tactics proved otherwise. He tested the waters of battle with a raid on King Theon and his son which is when Prince Aemon unintentionally entered the battle and saved their lives, earning the name for him and his dragon. But then… the Whoreborn looked elsewhere for amusement and war. He turned his eyes to Dragonrise."
"I think I remember a little of what happened. I was too young to pay attention to the world outside my home, but news like the Queen's death and the battles that followed were easy to slip in through the windows and the door."
Jorah stiffened at the mention of that day. He was too young to remember all of it, but he remembered enough. A moment of watching some knights fighting in the tourney, the dancing and sneaking sweets with his cousin, Arrana Reed
"The Whoreborn wasn't the only one to murder that day," Jorah muttered to himself, why he did it outloud was because after two years of traveling around Westeros alone, talking to one's self was the only way to keep his sanity.
But, the habit of his was louder than he meant it to be.
"Yeh must have lost someone too that day, then. And if I had to guess right it must've been yer mother."
Jorah tried to play it off as nonsense. "And what makes you guess that?"
"Because yeh kept waking me up in the night mutterin' in yer sleep for yer mother. I'm not thinkin' yeh're a scared boy without an inch of stone in him, everyone cries for their mother one day or another."
"Well she's dead, so forget it."
"That's a terrible thing to do for the dead, Blondie. Always remember what they done for you and everyone."
"Ha! Well if she hadn't been killed then maybe I could remember for myself instead of what the fuck everyone else says. 'Oh, you should be more like your mother, yada yada yada.' She never taught me how to be like her, and my father certainly couldn't, stupid cunt."
"... he's not the one who killed her, is he?" Aelawyn asked with a hesitant fear in her voice.
"Him? Of course not. He wouldn't have so much as pointed a dull butter knife at her. Hells, there's not a damn person alive who's met her that would think of doing that. No… the one that killed her is the little monster I've been forced to call 'sister'."
"..." Aelawyn's look of sympathy turned into spite. "Unless there's more to it than the surface, I'll go ahead and give the gold back and send you off somewhere to freeze and die. What the fuck is wrong with yeh to say somethin' so horrible as that?"
"Shut up!" Jorah stopped and glared back at her. "It's her fucking fault my mother's gone. If she hadn't been born then me, my brothers, my sisters, we all would have still had our mother. She loved us more than anything, she was the type of person that every child dreams of being theirs. So why the fuck is it fair that she died and a little, crying, brat get to live? That's all she does is cry! She never smiles, never laughs, she's just a sad, miserable creature-"
Smack!
Jorah groaned as he fell back hard into the snow. His face burned with pain. Seven Hells, did that woman have iron instead of bones under her flesh? In a flash of boiled up rage, Jorah managed to fight through to pain, jumping to his feet and tackling Aelawyn down into the snow. But instead of burying her in all of the cold, her found himself flipped over easily and pinned down, yelling out as Aelawyn squeezed his broken ribs with just a light touch.
"Don't you ever do that again, boy! Else I will leave yeh in the cold to die!" She slugged him hard on the back of his head, but the pain there was not enough to subside that of his ribs. Finally, she got off him and all the feelings started to die down. "Bloody idiot, is what you are. And too much of one to make beatin' yer arse worth it."
Jorah got to his knees, clutching at his ribs and his head. "You have no right to judge me. You know nothing of any of it!"
"Yeh're right, I don't. My mum and dah are alive and well last I saw them. But up in the real north, we know better than to let a child be called a killer just for bein' born, yeh cunt. These things just happen, it's a shit thing to accept but it's the truth."
"Truth? To people like my parents that had no meaning at all. My father defied that so many times and yet couldn't do it when he had to most and he won't see the truth like I do. None of them will!"
"Then yer truth is broken into a thousand pieces! How the fuck is a baby a killer? Did yer sister come out with a knife and stab yer mother? Or perhaps some poison instead?"
Jorah had a loud response ready for whatever was said back at him but the last remark made him freeze and a memory he had forgotten came into his mind. There were no images, only the words of a wailing woman.
"Poison! The Queen has been poisoned!"
He shivered, not from the cold of the snow but the cold of the fear that he remembered that night. It was the first time he was deeply afraid. "Poison…"
"What?" Aelawyn asked. "What do you mean, poison?"
"She was slipped poison that night. That's what made her so weak when the birth started." Jorah found himself taking a deep breath, subsiding his rage.
"Well if it was poison that killed her, then why aren't you mad at the one who did it?"
"I am but it wasn't just him! She had a choice that night. She could have lived if she let my sister die but she decided not to! She abandoned us, leaving a stupid baby that's done nothing but cry for fourteen fucking years!""
"Yeh're ridiculous, boy. It's not a question of what life to save when a mother and a child is in the balance. A real mother would never think twice about it either. I could ask if it were you instead of yer sister she had to choose but this anger in yeh no doubt blinds yeh to say yes without thought."
"What? I… I wouldn't-"
"Yeh just said that yer mother chose wrong because she abandoned yeh, so the right choice is to do the same to someone else? It sounds like the one you really hate is yer mother, but since she's not here, yeh let it out on your sister, yeh evil bastard!"
Were Jorah not in so much pain, he would have tried to tackle or hit Aelawyn again, so instead he shouted as loud as he could. He didn't know how long he had been doing it, only that his head was buzzing and light when he finished and his cheeks were stinging from the bites of cold tears.
Things had turned then. The rage filled confrontation was gone and Aelawyn was kneeling by his side.
"What about me? I needed her as much as my brothers and sisters did. I only had her for three years, three years I can't hardly remember at all! It's not reasonable to ask a child to be like their parents if they're gone from you. My father could have tried, he lost his mother too, but not once did he show that he knew this pain! He never met his! I did! It's not the same! I… I don't know what I was supposed to do! I was just so… angry."
Jorah felt arms wrap over him, soft furs covered in snow that didn't at all feel cold against his skin.
"What am I supposed to do?" he sobbed in her arms.
"I think yeh should go home, blondie. Yeh should stop being alone so much. And if this is how yeh feel when yeh are, how do yeh think yer sister's been?"
"But she's had my other sisters." He kneeled up straight, but his head was stuck looking down at the snow. "They knew our mother longer, and how to be kind and loving like she was. But still, that didn't stop the tears."
"What about you? Did yeh not have them too?"
"I did, but it wasn't the same! I can remember the feelings I had with my mother. My sisters couldn't replace that at all. And you'd think it was the same for my younger one, but she never knew our mother… She never knew."
Jorah thought back to a time that he could remember better in his youngest years when he was five. There weren't many memories, but he could remember what it was like being around everyone. Aemon and Matthias had their wives and children to lift their spirits through the sadness, so did Rhaella in having Ned. Baerristan up and left to study in the North, and Arya had been the one to exact vengeance on the Whoreborn at the cost of her sword hand. But all of them, even their father, still couldn't fully recover from losing their mother. She was the light of their lives for so long and without her things felt so grey and lost. But for Lyanna… she never knew how much light their mother was. She never knew.
Jorah gasped and felt his anger grow again but it wasn't at Lyanna, it was at himself. He didn't let himself see that she was hurting just as much as he had been all these years.
"Come on," Aelawyn lifted him up to his feet. "We still got a long way to go."
The days ahead of them were not in silence. Aelawyn wouldn't let Jorah keep his thoughts to himself else he grow angry and confused. He hated confronting all fo this but every day he did, he felt… lighter. But, at the same time, he felt weighed down more and more by a great guilt.
So many years of being so blindly angry at his father, at Lyanna. Seven Hells, he had to be the worst person in world since Ramsay fucking Bolton.
They were walking on a road near a river within a ravine. There was a signpost erected at a fork and strangely, there was a peculiar carving of some kind of head at the top of the post. The road turned as the ravine opened to the lake of ice. High on the basin that surrounded the lake was the castle of King's Stand and the village that were beside the road leading to it.
Jorah and Aelawyn passed under a wooden gatehouse and made their way through the village. When they reached the middle of town, Aelawyn pointed up to a tall building that stood above the rest and was the closest to the castle. "That's the inn up there. Yeh can find someone to take yeh to the Fist."
"You're not going to come with me?" Jorah asked, hurt that this felt like goodbye.
Aelawyn looked at him strangely. "I got no business at the Fist. I go where the winter winds take me and where I choose-"
She was interrupted when one of the village guards bumped right into her. He was one of seven and looked back at them. "Oy, you should watch where you're goin." He sneered at both of them but then his gaze went to Aelawyn's waist. "Well now, that's a nice pouch of coin you got there. Too much for a woman like you to have. Where'd you steal it from?"
Jorah scoffed at them. "She didn't steal it. She's been my guide and it's the payment I gave her."
"Ooh, A liar and a thieving whore. We don't take kindly to those kinds. In the name of our lord, I order you to surrender your stolen goods or be placed under arrest."
"Piss off," Aelawyn growled. "The only thieves here are you seal fuckers." One of the guards thrust the butt of his spear right into Aelawyn's stomach. She fell to her knees and grasped at her belly.
"You bastard!" Jorah instinctively rushed to punch the man, but his injury made him tense and he was punched across the face so hard that he fell down.
"Take the bitch to the town square. We'll make an example of her." the leader ordered.
Jorah was kicked in his chest when he tried to get up and it made the pain in his side hurt more than it already was. Even with a few days to get his strength back, broken ribs were still broken ribs. He could only watch as they dragged Aelawyn from him. "Stop! I order you to stop!" his words did not reach the men, but why would they? No one here knew who he was. No one except Lord Breakwater.
The castle wasn't that far away. He fought through his pain and summoned as much strength as he could. He left his things, including his dragon egg, and headed for the castle as fast as he could. The guards standing watching stood in his way. "Halt! No commoners may enter unless permitted-"
"Shut your hole and bring Lord Breakwater to me now. My name is Prince Jorah Targaryen and I am in need of immediate aid! Your lord knows my face now, bring him to me!"
Both of the guards looked at each other before one of them turned around. "He does have the hair… Find Lord Breakwater, quickly!"
It was by luck that it didn't take long for the Lord to come. When he saw Jorah, his eyes widened and he immediately fell on one knee. "My prince!"
Before his men could join him in kneeling, Jorah stopped them. "Get up! I need you and your men to come with me now!" Lord Breakwater obliged and had twenty of personal guard follow Jorah as fast as they could.
When they got to the town square, they witnessed Aelawyn being beaten with rods in front of the villagers. Lord Breakwater let out his booming voice. "Cease this in the name of your lord!"
All eyes turned to them. The leader of the men beating Aelawyn stepped forward. "My lord, we were merely dealing with a thief. That boy is a liar!" He pointed to Jorah.
"This boy is Prince Jorah Targaryen, sixth born of King Aegon and Queen Daenerys!" The townsfolk all fell to their knees at the news of that. Aelawyn became wide eyed. The town guards on the other hand were all cursing at themselves.
The leader was so embarrassed that he dropped his rod and fell to his knees. "My prince, forgive me. I beg of you!"
Jorah stepped forward. "In the name of my father, Aegon of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, I charge you with assault of an innocent and sentence you to death."
Two of Lord Breakwater's men seized the leader and a block was brought. The held him down as he struggled and squirmed to get free. "No! Mercy! Mercy!"
Lord Breakwater drew his sword to carry out Jorah's sentence, but Jorah stopped him. "If I may. I follow my father's way."
"As you say, my prince." Lord Breakwater offered the hilt of his sword to Jorah who took it and ground his teeth as the pain in his side stung. He ignored it as much as he could when he brought the sword up and in once swift swing beheaded the cruel guard. He looked back to the men who helped beat Aelawyn. "These men were following the order of their captain, but for assaulting an innocent, they should be punished accordingly."
"Aye, my prince." He waved his arm, commanding his men. "Take them to the cells!" The other guards were seized but willingly went to be taken away.
Jorah returned the sword to Lord Breakwater and rushed to help Aelawyn. "Are you alright?"
Aside from the purple bruises, her face was bright red. "I layed naked with a fuckin' prince." This was the first time Jorah saw her embarrassed.
He chuckled as he helped her to her feet. "Aye, that you did."
They were brought to King's Stand and given the courtesy of House Breakwater. Both of them were treated by the maester and then given rooms and proper clothing.
With Jorah's presence finally known, it wouldn't be long until word reached Dragonrise. But it didn't matter. Jorah knew that it was time for him to go home. He had a raven sent to Dragonrise and after being fed dinner, Jorah took to his room. His things rested in the corner but his egg sat in the fires of his hearth.
While he stood by his window and was looking out to the lake. Night came and the stars filled the night sky. He thought's dwelled on the stories told of his father's expedition to capture a wight and how the Night King took down one of mother's dragons, Viserion.
There was a knock on the door. "Come in."
The door opened and in walked Aelawyn. She wore a heavy dress of green and orange and was bathed. The roughness of her hair was gone, replaced with a silky smooth appearance. She looked like a lord's daughter.
"Got to say, Blondie, lall this fancy food, the rooms, the clothes, I can't understand why the fuck anyone would want this. Cooped up all day when the world's out there. No fun at all."
Jorah sighed. His hopes of convincing her to come with him were falling lower and lower. He didn't even get a chance to bring up the subject again before she denied it. "You're a Free Folk through and through, aren't you?"
"Yeh better bet everything yeh own that I am, Blondie. I'm made to walk the land, not lodge up someplace like here. As long as my feet can take me wherever I go, that's enough for me."
It hurt to hear, but she had to be who she was. "Does that mean that tomorrow is goodbye forever?"
"Forever? Maybe not. I think there's a reason I found yeh, Jorah. And I get the feeling we're not done just yet."
Those words did what they needed to bring Jorah to a better mood. He took a chance to gaze upon Aelawyn's beautiful form again. "You look…" Jorah began but was too starstruck to finish.
"Like a dopey lady of court, I know. But I got to say I like the colors. I think I might try to find someone to stitch this into a coat… but then again, lookin' pretty isn't gonna keep me warm. Especially in this place. Fireplaces in every room and I'm still cold."
Jorah chuckled and walked over to her. "Well… I know a couple ways to keep warm at night. But if you're that cold, we might need to be a little drastic."
"More than yeh've been for two years? Pish posh, I say. Nothing hotter than a dragon's skin, people say."
It was a moment of instinct that Jorah closed the gap between them and kissed Aelawyn. He kissed some girls before at Dragonrise, but never as passionately as he did with her. Her lips were warm and inviting, her hair smooth to touch as it looked.
It didn't take them long to work each other's clothes off and in all of the cold Winterlands, Jorah's room was the warmest place anyone would find if they dared to look that night. Jorh had never been with a woman like this before though, he was a little clumsy, unsure of what to do, but then again that's how he always had been. Aelawyn was just as she always had been, understanding and guideful. The one thing he did by himself was this thing with his tongue that felt right to do for some reason and Aelawyn was certainly pleased by it.
By the time both of them fell asleep, neither could tell if it had all been a dream, a fantasy, or reality. Whatever it truly was, neither of them cared so long as they remembered all that transpired.
Jorah woke up first. He felt better than he had in years. Aelawyn was sleeping soundly next to him and he didn't want to disturb her. He could feel that the room was getting cold so he decided to feed his hearths if it was still lit.
When he sat up, he froze in a panic. The hearth was still aflame, only a little, but his egg was gone. and rushed over to the fireplace. Aelawyn woke up to his rustling. "What is it?"
Instead of Jorah answering, a small noise did. Jorah turned and saw faint movements under the bed. He slowly crawled over and peered underneath. A pair of red eyes looked back at him. From underneath the bed, a small golden dragon crawled out into the open and began to sing to them both.
Lyanna
The flowers were finally blooming after two years of winter. The garden of the godwood was filled with so much color and beauty now. The winds would brush by and make the grass look like green waves of water.
It was always like this in the godswood. And in the Queen's garden was a little princess. A child of four years, born of silver hair and violet eyes like her brother before her, and wearing her little pink dress. She was sitting in a bed of flowers with her mother. She never picked any, she merely looked at them all with her mother.
"Lyanna, look at these ones." Her mother would say with a beautiful voice. "Do you know what those are?"
She meant the bright flowers that almost looked like they were bursting into flames. They were planted there when Lyanna's father's dragon finally found the strength to take to the skies again. People say that the green dragon flew for an entire fortnight before coming back to the land.
Lyanna didn't know the real name of the flowers, only that her sisters called them Rhaegal's Warmth. She wanted to answer, but when she turned around her mother was gone. She was all alone in the garden again. "Mommy!" Lyanna began to cry as she looked all around for her mother. "Mommy, don't go! Mommy!"
The dream always ended there before Lyanna would wake up in her bed. It came to her while she slept ever since she could remember. For fourteen years it tormented her with sorrow and every morning after she had to wipe away the wetness of her tears.
Lyanna the Weeper. That was her name. Always frowning, never to smile. That was what people would whisper behind her back sometimes. Everyone in the castle except her family. But those that did were right. She never smiled, not once since the day she was born, the day she killed her mother.
Her arms tightened around that which she slept with every night in hopes of it giving her comfort. She had no friends to give her comfort and no lovers either, only the egg her mother had ready for her when she was born. Her dragon egg was brightly white, almost silver, with small streaks of purple running throughout the surface like veins of blood. It was never warm but neither was it cold. She felt it meant that it would never hatch. But why would it? She wasn't worthy of a dragon.
What kind of dragon would want a rider that cries more than she speaks?
No, dragons did want to hatch for crying girls, they wanted riders like her siblings. Matthias, heir to the throne and as great a swordsman as King Aegon. Aemon, named Fire of the Salt King for his valiant rescue of King Theon Greyjoy and Prince Theon II. Rhaella, the first rider of Lyarras and ruler of Queenscrown with her husband. Baerristan, the greatest warg in the known world and his five animals including his dragon. Arya, the bane of the Whoreborn Kraken. And Jorah… Lyanna didn't like the names people called him. Jorah the Wrathful, Jorah the Screamer, and Jorah the Exile, just like his namesake. Perhaps the name was cursed?
The memory of his last day in Dragonrise was burned into her mind to never be forgotten and it was one of the saddest days she lived. Everything she did would always upset him but when she decided to hold her brother's egg in hopes to feel some warmth from it, he finally snapped at her.
'Don't you dare touch the last thing my mother gave me, murderer!'
He never said our mother, he only ever said my mother whenever he spoke to her. He had every right. Lyanna never knew her, never met her. But Jorah and others did. They all loved her so much and it was her fault that she was gone. Jorah left Dragonrise that night, taking with him a horse and his dragon egg among other things and a black eye given to him by Matthias. He had left much for all of them in the way of words, curses and profanities so vile as to make even the walls scream. Her brothers, her sisters… especially their father, who just endured them in a stony silence as if he blamed himself.
But Jorah had no words for her. Didn't even look at her, and honestly such was the most hurtful of all.
The handmaidens came and helped her prepare for the morning. She bathed and dressed in a light grey and blue dress made of silks and soft velvets. Within the hour and before leaving to break her fast with her family, she went to great furnace built in the center of the castle that was known as the Hot. It was the resting place for every dragon egg that was laid since the castle was built.
She meant to place her egg in with the other two. But unlike her siblings, she couldn't put it in directly herself. Without an immunity to fire, she winced back at the flames that roared within and needed the help of a Hot's caretaker, an elderly man named Roger. He had worked in the castle ever since it was finished and used a pair of great big tongs to tend and care for the Hot. He was always a kind man to the royal family, especially Lyanna.
"Good mornin' princess. Sleep well?" He asked.
"Not tonight," Lyanna replied sadly.
"Oh, that's a shame. I bet it's the ghosts of Dragonpit trying to come back to claim what was theirs. But don't let bad rest get ya down. It takes more than those to fight against a dragon such as yerself." He used his tongs and gently grabbed Lyanna's egg and placed it next to the Gray and orange one.
"I'm not a dragon, Roger, just a weeping girl." She left without another word.
Finally in the dining hall, most of her family were already there. Matthias and Joanna were together but their children were absent. Probably still sleeping up in the upper wings with Aemon's and Alys's children as well. They liked to explore and play games up there all the time. They weren't old enough to go camping or hunting by themselves yet so they would pretend that the near empty corridors were their forest.
"Lya," the King called, "good morning." He gave her a warm smile like he always did. But Lyanna would always see a bit of sadness behind those eyes of his. He missed his wife as much as his children did.
"Good morning, father." Lyanna took a seat next to Arya who was tearing away at some strips of bacon. She took a single orange for her breakfast and nothing else. She didn't have a big appetite today.
"Lyanna," said Joanna, "I'm going into the city today to meet with the caterers for the orphan's picnic next week. Would you like to come with me?"
"That sounds lovely. But I don't think the orphans would care to see such a damper like myself. You should just go without me." Lyanna raised her fork to bite her piece of orange she cut off, but she felt unease trying to eat. "Excuse, I'm not feeling well."
"Do you need the maester?" Father asked.
"No, just some air." She went off by herself again into the one place she was sure gave her flutterings of happiness, although she wasn't sure if it truly was either of them. Happy people smiled and laughed. How could she be sure when she's never been lifted enough to do those? She tried to once while looking at herself in the mirror. Her laughter was horrible, so fake. Her smile scared her into tears the only time she tried. She couldn't recognize herself when trying to be what she wasn't.
Mayhaps not happiness. Relief perhaps? Comfort. Aye, comfort. That was the word.
Many didn't like the godwoods because of the looming sensations of the Old Gods watching all who entered. She didn't mind it though. Once she passed the trees into the garden, she didn't even notice the feeling anymore.
Lyanna walked among the many flower beds, passing hundreds of vibrant colors. Her mother's statue rested in the middle of it all. There was a painting of the family all together when mother was pregnant with her. The face in it bore some but not complete resemblance. There was a rumor that father had a thousand of these statues made until a mason finally got the face right. No one had the proof to confirm it but no one ever answered whether or not it was true.
Lyanna began her routine of checking for weeds and any care the garden needed. As she did her work, Tormaeaxys and Asher flew overhead and roared to each other.
'Get your own food!' Asher's voice bellowed at his brother chasing after him.
'Share the shark!' Tormaeaxys snapped at Asher's tail.
Lyanna never told anyone about her secret gift. Her siblings told her of the wonders of connecting and feeling a dragon's emotions, but she was the only one to hear the voices as clear as a person's.
Lyanna started to sing. It was the one thing she found herself good at to make up for her eternal somberness. People smiled when they listened to her but she didn't know why. The words felt so empty.
Oh world, oh world, do you feel such fear
The chilling of winter is finally here!
But no snow nor ice shall be what we dread
For beyond North comes the marching dead
But lo and behold, from the east and north
Two dragons to defend us have come forth
We march into battle and see fire take flight
We share our courage into the storm we do fight
The night falls and through darkness death spawns
When all seemed lost came the brightest of dawns
A sudden noise took Lyanna's attention away from the flowers and her song to the branches of the trees around her. Perched on the branch of an ironwood was a dragon, one she had never seen before.
'Beautiful voice…' The dragon said, 'you are father's kin.' It was an infant, maybe a couple months old. But the color of the scales, gold with hints of black…
"Jorah." Lyanna breathed. The golden dragon cried out to her before spreading its wings and flying off the branch.
'To father I return.'
Lyanna got up to her feet and chased after it as it flew away. That dragon was the same color as Jorah's egg. Did that mean that he hatched it? Was he finally home? She climbed the stone stairs that led to a balcony that overlooked Blackwater Bay. There, in the middle of the water and heading straight for the docks was a single rowboat. The golden dragon swooped down past Lyanna's shoulder and flew down to the boat, circling overhead. It took a moment, but Lyanna could barely see the glistening color of silver hair.
Lifting the hem of her dress, Lyanna rushed from the gardens to meet her brother at the docks. She never got the chance to apologize for what she did that made him so angry. Never once did she hate him, not as the others seemed to. She wanted to make things right. She hoped to the gods that he could forgive her!
As she ran through the corridors, she nearly collided into her father and twin brothers.
Aemon dodged to the side to avoid hitting her. "Lya! Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"It's Jorah! He's come home!" Lyanna replied back at them without stopping. But she could hear them chasing after her and her father calling out for his other children at Dragonrise.
Lyanna was the first to arrive at the Docks. By then, the rowboat was already tied and it's crew disembarked. There were three men in total. Two men with cloaks bearing sigils of House Breakwater and Jorah. He looked years older than he actually was. He grew a beard and cut his hair.
His eye's met with hers and he gaped at her. He was speechless while Lyanna felt tears welling up in her eyes.
The gold dragon swooped down and perched itself on a wooden post and screeched out to Lyanna with curious eyes. 'We have come home.'
"Jorah," Lyanna began with a shaking voice, "I- I'm sorry for what I did. I didn't mean to chase you away. I'm so sorry-"
Before she could say anything else, Jorah walked up to her and fell to his knees before her, crying tears onto the stoneway. By then, Their father, brothers, and sister were gathered with them.
"Lyanna," Jorah said through a sobbing voice, "That's not what you were supposed to say. You were supposed to shout at me, scream, be angry. Why are you sorry? I… I was wrong and I didn't mean it. None of it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry and beyond ashamed for what I said and everything I've been all these years! I… I don't know how I can ever ask for forgiveness-" He never got the chance to finish when Lyanna practically jumped at him and wrapped her arms around her brother.
She too began to weep as her brother did but unlike any other time in the past, these were tears of joy. "I want nothing more than to give it freely." She wanted her brother back and felt such a wave of unexplainable feelings embrace her heart and spread throughout her body.
She lifted her head back to look upon her brother once more, to see how much he had changed. There was a moment he had a smile of utter joy but it quickly changed into surprise.
"Your smile…" he said to her, "you have mother's smile." He looked behind her with a smile of his own. "She has mother's smile."
Lyanna turned her head around and saw all of their siblings behind her, wide eyed and happy. Their father stepped forward and froze when he saw both her and Jorah smiling together.
She walked over to the edge of the dock and looked down to the water at her reflection. She was smiling, a real smile. So this is what happiness felt like. She didn't have to guess anymore, she finally knew. And for one biref instant, the movement of the water distorted her face enough that she could have sworn she saw the image of her mother's in the reflection, smiling back at her.
Once she saw herself this way, she couldn't stop. "I'm smiling," she cried and hugged Jorah once again. "I'm so happy!" They were joined by the collective embrace of all their siblings together. But father didn't join them, he stood alone, gazing at all of them with tears welling up in his eyes before finally joining them.
Everyone parted so that Jorah should step forward to him. There was a tense silence between father and son. Jorah moved to kneel but father swooped in and picked him up in a great hug. "I missed you, my son."
"Me too, father."
The little golden dragon chirped excitedly, Lyanna hearing his voice perfectly clear. 'Such joy I see! Wonderful! Wonderful!'
Lyanna had reached her hand out and touched him lightly on the head and another sensation swept over her. This creature was connected to her, and all the other dragons were as well. She could feel… threads that tied them all together, the dragons, her family, they were so perfectly there.
The bells of Dragonrise rang loudly that day, signaling the return of Prince Jorah. All events and duties were canceled and a private feast was held for the royal family.
Every servant and noble that they passed by looked at Lyanna in bewilderment when she smiled at them. She heard whispers of the same thing. Queen Daenerys has come again. Lord Tyrion and Ser Davos gave such warm welcomes to this awakened side of Lyanna, both congratulating her for finally finding joy.
Lyanna and everyone else listened to what stories Jorah had to tell of his traveling, from the lands of the North they've never been, to surviving a blizzard with a beautiful Winterwoman. Jorah called his dragon Gold Wind, for the golden scales and after his favorite of the Direwolves of House Stark.
Everyone spoke freely of the things Jorah missed while he was gone. Lyanna felt cheer when things she never cared about before filled her with joy and laughter.
It was the happiest Lyanna had ever been.
Evening had drawn near and Jorah had disappeared somewhere. Lyanna wanted to find him to ask something if he would. Her first thought was to look in his old room but he never went there at all, it was still untouched as the day he left it. Her second thought was to ask her father where Jorah could be and once she reached outside the door of the royal bedchamber she got her answer.
"I'm sorry, Jorah," her father said, "I was so caught up in my own pain that never took a true look at yours. Aemon… Matthias, everyone had others to comfort them except you. I saw Lyanna needed me more than ever, leaving you in the dark. I'm sorry."
"It's my fault for being consumed by it, shutting you all out, and… being a total arse to Lyanna. I swear to you, hear and now as a man, a prince, and a Targaryen, and as your son, I will never bring harm to her ever again. I'll protect her for all the years I should have, I promise."
Lyanna shed a tear hearing that, but it was not one of sadness, but joy. This is what her real brother was meant to be.
She knocked three times on the door and stepped inside when her father beckoned.
"Lya," Her father said.
"I was hoping Jorah could come with me. There's something I want to show him."
Jorah nodded and came with her, their father smiling in a way Lyanna hadn't seen him do ever. He was happy, truly.
The sun had gone and the moon came, Lyanna brought herself with Jorah in the godswood to a wall where the dragons would perched themselves sometimes.
"What is it?" Jorah asked.
"I'm going to tell you a secret." She closed her eyes and focused on the small threads of her heart she felt that touched each of the dragons. "Drogon… Moralad… Gold wing… please find us." There was silence for several seconds, then a gust of wind and a dragon's cry. An even greater gust of wind swept the godswood as Drogon in his titanic form swooped down and perched on the great stone wall. Moralad, Arya's dragon, came soon after but landing in a small clearing of trees given his smaller form allowed him to. And Gold wing of course swooped down and perched on Jorah's shoulder.
Lyanna smiled at the presence of the dragons and suddenly felt a great sadness in Drogon's voice.
'Mother…' Lyanna had gasped as it was the first time she ever heard Drogon speak.
'No, not her,' Moralad said, 'the Mother's last gift to us all.'
Drogon leaned his head closer to Rhaella. 'You are mother again… I am glad.'
"What? What's going on?" Jorah asked, shifting nervously in place.
Lyanna looked at him. "I can hear them, Jorah. I can hear their voices as clearly as I understand yours and everyone else."
"What?"
"I always could."
"That's… incredible." Jorah looked at Gold Wing. "Has he said anything?"
"He led me to you this morning. And now," Lyanna listened to Gold Wing's chirps.
'I will become grand and strong, to keep father's promise for you.'
"He shares your desire to protect me." Jorah looked a little embarrassed at first, but set his sights on his dragon with a smirk.
Moralad approached the two Targarytens and snorted at Jorah. 'Glad the little fool is returned to us.'
"Me too," Lyanna agreed. Moralad and Drogon took back to the skies, but gold wind remained with Jorah and Lyanna. "This is my gift and my secret that I share with you, Jorah, because I want my brother to know."
Jorah hugged her tightly. "Thank you, Lyanna."
They walked together under the moonlight, into the garden of flowers and they came to their mother's statue. Jorah kneeled before it, offering a prayer to her.
"Mother… forgive me, please. I never knew until now what a precious gift you left behind for us all. I will never look back and lose myself in sorrow for your passing. I will take joy in the sister you gave to us all and do my best to watch over her as you wanted me to."
Lyanna fell to her brother's side and hugged him. "Let's not go back yet. Let's stay here a while longer." They sat together under the sight of their mother's stone eyes, but tonight it felt like she was truly looking at them. An hour must have passed by, or maybe it was a mere minute, they couldn't tell. But at that time, Lyanna felt that someone else was here. She sucked in a breath when she looked over her shoulder and saw a faint silhouette in the darkness.
"Jorah," Lyanna whispered. He turned his head and looked where she did at a figure walking through the shadows of the trees.
"Arya?" Jorah called but no response came.
The womanly figure walked out from the shadows cast by the nearby elm tree and revealed a face that Lyanna recognized many times from the great tapestry of her family. But neither the tapestry nor the statue could have truly captured just how beautiful Daenerys Targaryen was. She was clad in a silver dress that nearly blended perfectly with her hair.
"Mother?" Jorah lost his breath as both he and Lyanna got to their feet.
Their mother smiled at them both and walked forward, stopping just out of arm's reach.
Jorah reached out to touch her but his hand went through her body as if she wasn't there. "Are… are you a ghost?"
Their mother shook her head. "Ghosts are lost souls that torment others. They come and go."
"What about you? Are you just coming and going?"
"I never left." Mother walked up to Jorah, lifting a hand and caressing him under his jaw. "You've grown up to be so handsome, my son." She looked at Lyanna. "And I never thought I would be the mother of a beautiful woman like you, Lyanna."
Lyanna felt the urge of tears forming within her but she refused. "I've wanted to meet you all my life. I-I'm sorry I killed you."
"Lyanna, never say that. I made a choice that night. To live or to keep a promise I made the day I had Matthias and Aemon in my arms for the very first time, the same promise I made every time I held all of your brothers and sisters in my arms."
"What was it?"
"I lost one child to choice, I would never lose another for as long as I lived."
"But everyone else… they miss you."
"I know. And I've missed all of you."
Lyanna's strength weaned and tears fell from her eyes. She tried to wipe them away, but mother touched her hand and stopped her. "You need not fear weeping for not all tears are of sadness, my love. You're never without me just like you're never without each other." Mother embraced Lyanna and a wonderful warmth blanketed her. "I will love you, always."
Her eyes fluttered open. She had fallen asleep next to Jorah and Gold Wind underneath their mother's statue. Was it all just a dream? If it was then it was a good dream.
Lyanna felt something in her hand, something that wasn't there before. She looked and in her hand was a blooming Winter Rose.
"I will love you always too, mother."
Rose -22 years after Queen Daenerys' Death - 4 years after King Aegon Targaryen's Death -
While all the other children played together in the lake's waters, Rose sat alone on the rocky island. Almost every child old enough to swim was able to reach the tiny island. It was a hot day today. The sun was burning the lands with heat but the waters remained cool and refreshing. There were Fishermen near the river where it emptied into the lake.
Rose pulled her knees to the body as she watched the surface of the water ripple from the winds and occasional splashing when one of the children jumped into it. They were all diving for treasure. Sometimes someone would find something of interest. Last month one boy found a rusted broken spear.
She didn't want to join them. She liked being by herself. She didn't fit in with the other children or the other orphans at the King's Stand Orphanage. For some reason she was always like that. Isolated. It's not that she didn't want to be, it was just a feeling that she always had in her heart since she was born. Nobody knew her mother when she died. All she knew was that she favored her looks. Her auburn red hair and face were the same people said, but the eyes were a deep indigo, almost purple. Sometimes she was called Winter Rose because she was born in the middle of a three year winter. But it didn't change the fact that she was a Frost.
Her thoughts were broken when one of the other orphans, a boy her age named Martin, splashed some water up at her. "Come on Rose! It's your turn to dive!" He was always so nice to her. He liked to call himself her older brother since he was also a bastard. The difference between them was that everyone knew who his father was. Lord Irefist of the Fist met a tavern girl and laid with her. Nine months later Martin was born and abandoned by his mother.
Rose shook her head and gave a weak smile. "I don't want to. You go ahead without me."
Martin shrugged and took a deep breath before diving underneath the blue waters. He was under there for quite some time before bubbles floated to the surface followed by Martin. He splashed out laughing victoriously. "I found one! I found one!" He swam to the shore of the island where the other children gathered. Rose didn't join them, but she looked back to see what it was. "A dragonglass dagger! I actually found one!" The sound of that sparked interest in her. She decided to join them all and beheld the dagger of volcanic glass in Martin's hands. It was huge to be considered a dagger. The handle was made of antler and the grip meant for a full sized hand.
"Who do you think it belonged to?" One of the younger boys asked. "Maybe it was King Aegon's or Ser Jorah Mormont's!"
"Maybe it was Tormund Giantsbane's or the Hound's!" Another boy guessed.
While they all began giggling like girls, Rose wandered back to her spot, but instead of sitting down, she looked to the darkness of the water. She always felt so calm in the waters and today she felt a great pull to swim down into the depths. She didn't pay heed to the impulse until she saw the dragonglass dagger.
Rose took a deep breath and dived down into the water. The splash of coolness engulfed her body as she began swimming down into the darkness. She felt no fear being so deep in the water. She could hold her breath the longest and had a knack for finding things but she never brought them back with her. She just liked to find them and leave them is all.
The bottom wasn't very far down and there were many heavy rocks to grab onto to pull herself around. She could barely see anything yet she felt she knew where she was going. She took a few seconds and did nothing but feel the cold silence of the water. It was so peaceful beneath the lake. The bubbles made by her air would drift up and tickle her face sometimes. She felt herself start to crave for air and had to back up to the surface.
But something wanted her to stay below, something wanted her to find it. The urge was great within and she couldn't find it. She went deeper into the water and searched for what called to her. She could feel her lungs started to burn, like her insides were lighting on fire. But she didn't stop, she couldn't stop. Her muscles began to burn and she to fight herself to swim back up, but she was so close.
All the pain she felt suddenly disappeared, or rather she ignored it, when her fingertips brushed something. It is like a stone with such a strange texture. The moment she touched it, the pull disappeared and she knew that this was what she wanted, no... needed. She grabbed the stone and found it surprisingly light as she kicked her legs to swim up as fast as she could.
The moment she emerged from the surface of the water, she inhaled a great breath of air and her body finally cooled down from the burning pain. As she coughed for air, she started swimming back to the island. She finally noticed that some of the other children were calling for help and some of the fisherman steered their boats to them.
"There she is!" Martin called as Rose got closer. It was then that she finally realized how far out she actually managed to get. She didn't believe how far she got. A large arm wrapped around her body and pulled her out of the water into a boat.
She felt so tired once she was out of the water.
"Stupid girl, you almost drowned!" the man said. Rose looked up to see who her rescuer was. His name was Kullug. He was one of the Free Folk and a warg. He fought in the War for the Dawn and the Battle of King's Landing. He would always tell stories to anyone who wanted to hear them and was one of the few people who spoke with the giants a few miles from King's Stand. He had a great gray beard and despite his age he was still very strong built.
"Thank you, 'cough' Kullug." Rose told him. She sat herself up as Kullug began taking her back to the dock of the village. As he rowed his boat, Rose looked down at her stone for the first time. It was covered in muck and mud. A few rocks were glued to the surface. But there were some parts that were cleaned of gunk. The rock had a strange patterned surface that looked like fish scales. Perhaps it was a sculpture a merchant vessel dropped. Small ships sometimes came from the southeast.
She was returned to the orphanage along with the other orphans and got a scolding from their caretaker, Septa Dollorus. She was a cranky old woman who was probably the oldest woman alive. After their scolding, they all got themselves cleaned up and changed into dry clothes. They finished their chores and the boys decided to go to the Tavern to listen to Kullug's stories. He was going to tell all about the Whoreborn Kracken Rebellion.
Rose didn't join them though. It was getting late and once she finished her chores she immediately started cleaning her stone. The boys all thought it was just a rock so they didn't care about it. She scrubbed off as much of the mud as she could. It was harder than washing the dishes. But once she started making progress, the stone began showing color. Before it was just brown and black from all the gunk, but now it was bright green with hints of white. By Sundown she got most of it cleaned. By then it started to draw some attention from the other children. Still, Martin's dagger got more. At least it did until Septa Dollorus took it away from him because he was too young for a real weapon.
After dinner, all the children were put to bed. Rose lay with her stone but found that she could not sleep. She was restless. It was because of her stone. It felt cold and she knew that it was bad. It needed to be warmed by fire.
She tiptoed out of bed in the middle of the night and crept past all the children. She had to be extra quiet sneaking by Septa's room so as to not wake her. She was such a light sleeper, she would wake if a sewing needing dropped on the floor two houses down.
Rose made for the hearth of the orphanage. The embers were still glowing and needed to be fed. She set her stone over them and surrounded it with firewood. Instead of the cold stone smothering the embers, it looked like they got brighter from its touch. The firewood caught flame and soon the embers were a roaring fire.
Even though it was a hot night, Rose didn't feel the heat at all. She felt just as she did beneath the cold waters of the lake. Watching the flames dance on the surface of the stone was so comforting. She felt herself grow tired and laid down on the stone floor. Tonight, she felt more comfortable than she had in a long time.
In her dreams she found herself lying in a feather bed, wrapped in the arms of a woman. She thought it was herself when she looked at the woman. But the eyes, the eyes were lighter than hers.
"Mother?" Rose asked. The woman smiled, pressing a warm kiss on her cheek and stroked her fingers through Rose's hair.
"Get up, child!" Rose awoke to a whack on her side. She winced at the pain and completely forgot what she did last night to end up sleeping on the floor. It was morning and Septa Dollorus whacked her with a long stick.
Rose turned her head and saw the Septa looking just as cranky as usual and in the doorway were some of the boys snickering at her. Martin wasn't among them.
"How dare you waste firewood on a hot night. And out of bed after hours, you will be punished, girl. Now get up!" The Septa whacked the ground to startle Rose, but it wasn't her the noise startled.
Rose never realized it until now, but she was holding onto something warm, something that felt like a little heartbeat. She looked at her belly and saw a large light green and white lizard brushing itself against her. Rose wasn't frightened at it, in fact she felt happy and didn't know why.
"I said get up!" The septa whacked the ground again, but this time the lizard climbed on top of Rose and stared emerald green eyes at the Septa, scaring her out of her wits. It was then that Rose realized that the lizard wasn't a lizard at all. Lizards don't have wings, but dragons do.
After that morning, things became rather hectic. Word spread like wildfire that there was a dragon in an orphanage and before afternoon Lord Breakwater himself came to see.
Rose was taken to the castle and given a room all to herself. It was bigger than the one she shared with the other children and her bed was four times as big. She was being treated like a princess. She was given a new dress, plentiful food, and even a servant. Things were like this for a fortnight. No one said much to her, as if they didn't know what to say. One thing was for certain, they were waiting for something to happen.
The dragon had remained with her given that anyone else who tried to touch it nearly got their fingers bitten off.
Rose sat up against the headboard of her bed with the small dragon in her lap. The tiny creature purred like a cat as it slept. Rose would stroke her hand over the scales softly not to disturb it's sleep.
"What's your name?" she asked as if expecting some kind of answer. "Maybe Greenscale? Or Silverwing?" She thought of the Royal Family's dragons, trying to remember the names of the legendary dragons. She could only remember a few though. Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes of course, being the original Conquerors mounts. Caraxes, for the Rogue Prince. Drogon and Rhaegal for the great King and Queen. There was Asher who belonged to Prince Matthias, Tormae, Tomunay… Torm-something belonged to King Aemon. The others she couldn't remember who's they were, but she knew the names. Lyarras, Craegaryx, and Icebane. There at least several more, but she couldn't remember the names no matter how hard she tried. Martin would know. He was almost obsessed with dragons and the Targaryens.
"Martin, he would know what to call you." Rose carefully lifted the dragon off her lap and set it on a feather pillow. She hopped out of bed and made for the door. When she opened it, the guard outside, a huge and tall man with a big sword at his side and steel armor like regular clothes looked down to her.
"Do you need something?" He asked with a deep voice.
"I wanted to see my friend, Martin." Rose told him shyly.
"I'm sorry, but orders are that you're to stay in the castle grounds." He told her.
"Then can he come to me?"
He opened his mouth to reply, but took a moment to think on an answer. "I will ask if that might be arranged." He gestured for her to go into the room and closed the door.
Almost an hour had gone by and there was no answer given. Rose was laying on her bed, almost drifting to sleep with the dragon before there was a knock on her door. Both she and the dragon perked their heads up at the noise.
"Yes?" Rose called.
The door opened and in came Martin who was wide eyed at everything about her room except the dragon. "This place is huge!" He said with a hint of jealousy. "It looks like you could fit a hundred orphans in here!"
Rose giggled at his remark. She too didn't understand why a room for one person had to be so big.
The dragon growled and crawled over to the edge of the bed. It screeched out to Martin and displayed it's wings at him.
"Woah! When did you teach it that?"
"I didn't," Rose replied, "it just does that when someone new comes to see me. Lord Breakwater's girl got so scared she wet herself." Both of the children shared a bit of giggling.
Martin slowly approached the bed but kept his distance. "So what's its name?" He inched his fingers to pet the dragon, but they darted back when they were almost bit by small but sharp teeth.
"That's why I wanted to see you. You know all about the dragons in the south. What do think this one should be called?"
Martin placed a hand on his chin and scratched it. "Well, most of the Dragons have Valyrian sounding names but I don't know any of that language. There's the one with the name of the Old Tongue but I don't know any of that either." He studied the dragon as close as it allowed him to. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
"I don't know. I think it's a boy." Rose confessed.
"Then how about… Springer?"
"Springer?"
"It's the green. It looks like the beginnings of spring emerging from the last of the snow of winter."
Rose reached over and scratched the dragon under his chin. "Springer… yes, that's your name." Springer let out a little cry as he crawled onto Rose's lap. She rested her hand on Springer's back and it seemed to calm the dragon down. "Try touching him now."
Martin slowly reached his hand over and almost flinched when Springer his at him but didn't bite. He touched the tips of fingers on Springer's neck and lightly pet the dragon. Martin lost his breath in a laugh almost. "He's so warm."
The spent the next hour talking about nothing but dragons. Martin told her all about how Queen Daenerys Stormborn hatched her clutch in her first husband's funeral pyre and how King Aegon hatched his unknowingly is his great great great uncle Aemon's pyre.
"And after the King died last year, Princess Lyanna's egg hatched. I've heard that it's the most beautiful of all the dragons and any who look at it-" He was cut short when a great roar erupted from outside. The sound itself gave a small vibration throughout the castle.
The door opened and Lord Breakwater himself rushed in. "Little Lady, there's someone here to meet you and your beast."
Rose picked Springer up into her arms and cradled him as she and Martin followed Lord Breakwater out the room and to the outside of the castle. They walked through the courtyard and many were gathered on battlements looking out to something, or rather someone outside the castle.
When they passed under the portcullis, they found themselves looking at a large gold and black dragon. In front of it was a man with silver hair and stubble of a beard. Next to him was beautiful women with traits matching him.
A beautiful songs filled the air. All looked up and saw a silver dragon singing as it flew high overhead.
Lord Breakwater had Rose keep herself behind him as he fell on one knee and many others followed his example. "Thank you for coming so quickly. We've been very eager for your arrival, Prince Jorah."
"It's just Lord Jorah now. No need to kneel." the prince… or lord replied.
Lord Breakwater rose as did his people. He moved aside and had Rose brought forward.
The Look Lord Jorah gave her one of shock. He quickly walked forward to her and stopped just a few feet away. Lord Jorah looked down to the little dragon and smiled at it. "Hello, little one. My name's Jorah, and this is my wife Lyanna." The woman with him smiled so beautifully that Rose fell in love with her. "I was told that you lived at the orphanage before Lord Breakwater housed you."
"Aye, milord. My mother died when I was born. No one knows who she was, or her name."
"Aelawyn."
Rose felt a great wave of nostalgia rush over her. It gave her such joy she never thought she knew. "What?"
"Her name was Aelawyn. She saved my life a long time ago. I asked her to come south with me but she wanted to stay here. If I had known about you, I would have come the day you were born." Lord Jorah knelt down to her eye level. "Your name?"
Rose cleared her throat and tried to speak as politely as she could. "Rose Frost, milord."
Springer gave a little growl as if feeling left out.
"We're sorry," Lyanna had said, "we would never think to disclude such a beautiful dragon like yourself, Springer."
"What?" Rose gasped. "How'd you know his name?"
"He told it to me." Springer continued to chirp little noises.
"What is he saying now?" Rose asked, but she had this strange feeling in her heart that she knew already.
"He wants you to come with us. A dragon alone in the world is a terrible thing." Lyanna walked forward and kneeled down in front of them, reaching a soft hand out and stroking Springer along his neck. "He's darling, Rose. But you are like his mother now. You are the one to make this choice."
Rose shifted nervously. "It's not that I don't want to… it makes me a little scared is all. I'm a bastard, and Kullug's told stories of bastard Targaryens fighting the real ones. Doesn't that make it bad for your real children?"
Jorah stepped forward. "Our first first is on the way, but I will never let that kind of thing happen. I promise. Tell me your name again, Rose."
"Um… Rose Frost."
"Not Frost anymore," Lord Jorah told her. "You are Rose Targayen, a daughter of the House of Dragons. That is, if you would have it."
Rose sucked in a breath and held it. She could have a real name? And her father's name, a royal name? But wouldn't that make his wife angry? She knew that other Lord's with bastards were frowned at for doing such a thing and it was no secret that the wives of said lords because furious and contemptuous.
But there was no trace of anger from Lyanna. In fact the smile she bore made Rose calm and hardly think of the fear at all. "Does that mean I can have a home? You'll be my father and.. Um.."
"I can be a mother to you, if you would give me permission." LYanna had said with an outstretched hand.
Springer chirped again, and even though Rose could not understand his voice like Lyanna could, in her heart she could feel the meaning and took the hand offered. The emotions overwhelmed her and she found herself hugging Lyanna tightly. "Yes!"
There was a lonely cheering coming from Martin. After a little awkward moment of time, others began to applaud and cheer as well, and the big golden dragon roared out to the sky. A dragon was born, and a family was found.
Jon
Watching from atop the cliffs that overlooked King's Stand, Jon smiled at the sight before him. No one would be left behind again, never. It may take a day, a year, or even a decade, but never forever, not so long as he and Dany were watching over them.
"Targaryens together again, "Dany said, holding his arm tightly "is a beautiful thing."
"Aye, it is." Jon couldn't agree with her more.
The two of them would not have missed this for anything. Even though none of their children or grandchildren could see them, Jon and Daenerys would always be watching over them all, together.
