Winterfell
What could Sam want? That's so urgent. This same thought constantly ringing in his head as he walked to Sam's chamber. Jon couldn't figure it out. He had seen Sam only a few days prior and whilst Jon felt something was odd about there reunion he hadn't had the time to ask him. But it certainly didn't feel like something to cause such urgency. Probably something to do with Gilly or little Sam that I know nothing about but Sam wants advice for.
After knocking on Sams door, the former lord commander of the nights watch embraced his maester friend. Sam leads Jon inside to his chamber. After sitting Jon notices Sams concerned face. "Sam, what's wrong?"
"I... She came to see me the other day."
"Who?"
"Daenarys."
"What did she want?" She never mentioned speaking to am. Jon wonders.
"She wanted to thank me for curing Ser Jorah's greyscale."
This causes Jon to become even more confused. "Surely that's a good thing? You don't look remotely happy at getting a personal thank you from the queen."
"Yes... I... I was happy until I told her my name." Jon furrows his brow in even more confusion. "I told her my name was Tarly she asked me if Randyll Tarly was my father. He sided with Cersei instead of Daenarys and sacked Highgarden with the Lannisters."
"And she attacked them after. I'm sorry Sam." Jon reaches over to comfort Sam but he flinches away.
"It's not just that! They were captured my father and... Brother. She captured them both after the battle. They... They refused to bend the knee to her and she... She killed them."
"Sam I... I'm so sorry."
"They could've been her prisoners but she killed them! And not even with a sword! She... She burned them alive." Sam sobs.
"I'm sorry but she is our queen now and that's her way."
"But she shouldn't be!" Sam exclaims.
"Oh Sam I've bent the knee to her, I pledged the north to her."
"I'm not talking about King in the north I'm talking about King of the bloody seven kingdoms!" Sam's face falls as he realises what he's said.
"What do you mean?" Jon questions.
"I... Nothing I didn't mean anything." Sam stumbles.
"Sam. What did you mean?"
"I... At the citadel, I read a high septons diary." Sam reveals parking Jons interest. "He um... He annulled Rhaegar Targaryen's marriage to Elia Martell."
"How? They were married with children. Why would a-"
"It's not important." Sam interrupts. "He did it so that Rhaegar could marry another."
"But who would Rhaegar ma-" It dawns on Jon. "Lyanna."
Sam nods at Jons revelation. "Brans got well whatever Brans got. He saw their wedding. He didn't kidnap her or rape her. He loved her and she loved him. "
"But how? My father and Robert... They went to war to save her from a raper. Why didn't she tell them."
"I don't know Bran didn't say." Jon picks up on Sam seemingly avoiding the subject.
"But what did Bran say?"
"I well... It's not my place to say really."
"Sam. What did Bran say?"
Sam sighs but finally relents. "He saw the tower of joy at the end of the rebellion."
"Where he saw my father find k her. It was childbirth." Jon's eyes widen with shock. Childbirth? A baby with Rhaegar. Why didn't she tell father?
"She made your father promise to keep the baby safe so your father... He erm... He claimed the boy as his bastard son."
No that's not possible.
"Before she died. Your mother she named you Aegon Targeryen. You are the true heir to the iron throne."
No, I can't be. I'm just a bastard, a Snow. Not a Targeryen king. "No i... I can't be I'm just a bastard."
"Jon, Bran saw it all. Their wedding your fa- Ned Stark finding you and your mother. You have a stronger claim than Daenarys or Cersei. You are the rightful king."
"NO! I never wanted a crown. Daenarys will take the Iron throne and I." Jon takes a deep breath. "I won't challenge her."
"But Jon your prince Rhaegars son it's your birthright and duty to be king. The north would fight for you."
"I don't want them to! You would have me wage war against my... My aunt." Gods I've been fucking and falling in love with my aunt. "I pledged the north to her not to fight her."
"But Jon-"
"But nothing! I'm no king, I'm a bastard and Daenarys is our queen." Jon storms away from Sam towards the training yard.
He claimed the boy as his bastard son. You are prince Rhaegars son. Your mother named you Aegon Targeryen. You are the true heir to the Iron Throne. It can't be true. But Sam he wouldn't lie. Why would fa- my uncle lie to me? All these thoughts and hundreds more racing through Jons mind as he buried longclaw into a training dummy. The valyrian steel slicing through the straw dummy as if it was air. My whole life has been a lie. These thoughts only fuelling Jon's rage as he lands another savage attack. The dummy crumples. Jon moves to another and starts hacking and slicing at it. Until a booming voice calls out "What's got you so worked up, Snow?"
Jon turns, seething with rage that someone interrupted him. But he masks it when he sees who called him. "Tormund? Gods I thought you were dead."
"Aah, it'll take more than a dragon to kill me." Tormund pulls Jon into a bone-crushing hug.
"Gods, I think you actually broke something."
"You've survived worse Snow." Jon winces slightly knowing that Tormund is referring to his death. In the distance he sees the hound and Beric Donderion coming through Winterfell's gates with several free folk and nights watchmen.
"Were there any others? From Castle Black?" Jon asks.
"Aye, he was jus-"
"SNOW!"
Jon looks at where the shout came from. "Edd!" Jon pulls Edd into a hug. "I thought we lost you."
"No, your not ride of me yet." Jon smiles slightly. "So what's got you so worked up?"
"Nothing much." Just my whole life has been a lie and I've been fucking my aunt. Other than that in fine!
"If you say so." Not entirely believing Jon.
"I'm glad your here. It's good to have another man I trust here." Edds brow furrows in confusion.
"The lords made you their king surely there's some of them you trust?"
Jon sighs. "The Forrester lads alright. And Ser Davos is a good man. But most of the others would happily get rid of me to make Sansa queen." He sighs again. "All because I went to see Daenarys." My aunt.
"Well, you'll have me and that big ginger prick."
"We might be friends now but I can still gut you crow." Tormund steps menacingly towards Edd. Gripping his sword. But he starts laughing, Jon and Edd soon follow.
"It's good to have you two back."
Kings landing
"Qyburn, how many scorpions do we have?" Cersei asks.
"A dozen, your grace. With another four already under construction." Qyburn replies.
"Make it eight. I want twenty of them ready for use by the end of the month."
"Of course, your grace." Qyburn starts to leave before Cersei stops him.
"And Qyburn. I want men sent to Casterly Rock. I want to know how the dragon whores cock less slave scum managed to take it."
"It shall be done, your grace."
Cersei leaves her chambers to head for the black cells, Ser Gregor obediently following her. A short walk later the pair of them reach the black cells. The cells are eerily quiet. Only two people now occupy the black cells. And one of them was half-dead after Qyburn was allowed into her cell. Cersei smirks walking past her cell. Septa Unella the hag. She thought she held power over a lion. She thought she could shame me. Now, look at her. The Septa is chained to the wall by her wrists. Dozens of cuts and scratches cover her naked body. Most horrifically but most satisfying for Cersei is the removed skin around her stomach, exposing her ribs. Qyburn took just enough to leave her agonising pain but leave her alive to suffer as Cersei did. But, Unella wasn't who Cersei came to see. She continues through the black cells towards her other prisoner. The goaler opens the cell before Cersei orders him to leave. Leaving Cersei alone with her prisoner with Ser Gregor standing menacingly behind her. She walks to her tanned dark-haired prisoner. Cersei removes her gag. "Your dragon whore has gone north with the bastard king to fight white walkers."
The prisoner smiles. "That shows how much of a threat you are. They would rather fight stories we tell children than the cowering lioness."
"Come now Ellaria. I've taken everything from you. Prince Oberyn died because of me. Your precious sand snakes died because of me. I killed your own daughter in front of you and there was nothing you could do to save them. How did that feel?"
"You wouldn't know, would you? You only saw Myrcella's corpse."
Cersei turns. "Ser Gregor, discipline her."
Clegane steps forward. He raises his hand and strikes Ellarias cheek, his mailed fist causing a deep cut.
"Perhaps when you finally kill me, I'll see all your bastards in seven hells." Ellaria spits.
"Again." Cersei snaps. Ser Gregor hits her again, causing another cut to her cheek. "Kill you? Why would I do that? You may still have a purpose yet."
Winterfell
He didn't kidnap her or rape her. He loved her and she loved him. How many thousands died because he loved Lyanna Stark and she loved Rhaegar, not Robert Baratheon. How many died for me to be born?
These thoughts as well as hundreds, no, thousands more racing through Jons mind as he hid from as many responsibilities as possible. And Daenarys. The aunt he had seen naked and fucked on multiple occasions, the aunt he was in love with, the aunt he could not bear to see.
The remainder of his day had been spent in the godswood. Praying for his fa- uncle. For the mother and father, he never knew. For his lost bro- cousins. Until darkness fell and he snuck back to his chamber.
Tossing and turning for what felt like hours a soft knock came from his door. Only one woman has that knock. Gods I don't know if I have the strength to face her. Summoning what little strength he has Jon goes and opens the door. Sure enough, the door opened to reveal Daenerys. She is so beautiful, kind but stern and forceful when needed. I almost lov- no! That's wrong she is my aunt.
Daenarys notices Jons confused face and how he won't look her in the eyes. "Jon, what's wrong?"
"I... Apologies your grace but I feel unwell and wish to retire this evening." Great excuse. You have the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms willingly coming to your chambers to fuck you and you can't even tell her the real reason you can't.
"Oh... I... Of course." Slowly Daenarys leaves, unable to comprehend what just happened.
Why couldn't he look me in the eye? A simple sickness does not explain that. And calling me 'your grace' he hasn't done that in private since Dragonstone. What has caused him to refuse me like that? Would he refuse our child? No. He wouldn't get that chance the babe will die just like Rhaego.
Days later the dead still haven't left their position near long lake and another tense council meeting is nearing its end.
"And the dragon glass weapons? How many do we have?" Jon asks.
"The smiths are working as hard as they can but they are still getting used to making dragon glass swords and spears and almost all have them have never made anything like the Dothraki..." Ser Davos pauses. Not knowing the name of the Dothraki weapons.
"Araks," Daenarys says.
"Aye, with those difficulties id say wed be lucky if half our men had dragon glass weapons."
Jon sighs. "Maester Wolken, send ravens to Riverrun and the Eyrie requesting that smiths come to Winterfell." Wolken leaves and the council begins to disperse.
"Lady Sansa id like to speak with you. If you would." Tyrion asks.
"Of course lord Tyrion." She replies. The pair of them head for Tyrion's chambers. Upon arrival, they sit and Tyrion pours them a glass of wine each.
"You still drink too much." Sansa states. Looking at Tyrion's much fuller glass.
"Nonsense, I drink just enough for a man of my stature." He replies with a smirk on his face. Santa smiles, perhaps when she was younger she would've laughed but not now.
"I'm assuming you didn't ask to speak to me to joke about your drinking."
"No, I wish though. That would be much easier to deal with." Tyrion sighs.
"And what is not easy to deal with?"
"Our potential royal couple." He states. "They would appear to not be getting along as well as they had been."
"Yes, they have been rather cold to each other recently."
"Each other?" Tyrion questions. "I would say that despite his longing looks at her your brother has been the cold one."
"I... Yes, Jon has been acting strange recently."
"So? Any particular reason for it?" He asks.
"I wouldn't know. He hasn't spoken to me outside of council meetings and the only times I've seen him is in the godswood or the training yard."
"Interesting, so it's not only Daenarys he's acting cold too. Would he have spoken to your sister?"
"Perhaps. But do remember if you try and speak to her she's likely to stick needle into you." They share a small laugh before Sansa excuses herself and leaves.
After three days of hiding from everything he could, Jon finally decided to face some of what he had been avoiding. The first, the storey face of the woman in front of him Lyanna Stark. The mother I never knew. The mother I killed. Staring at her cold Stoney face Jon couldn't decide what was worse. That his birth had killed his mother or that his mothers love for Rhaegar Targeryen, his father, had resulted in tens of thousands dying in a war because she didn't love Robert Baratheon. Perhaps I should never have been born. My mother would be alive, my fa- uncle wouldn't have lied to his wife and...
His dark thoughts are interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, Jon turns towards the sound. No, she can't be here.
A/N: thank you so much for the feedback recently it's been so motivational to continue this fanfic. Also I have two ideas on how to do continue this fanfic. Either the night king is defeated at winterfell in what would hopefully be a much better than the show way or the dead win at winterfell