Jon
They had travelled the whole day before they decided to camp near a small brook snaking its way through the hinterlands of Braavos. It had rained all evening, the hills and valleys covered in white mist.
Tito didn't approve of his suggestion, but Jon's shoulder was starting to ache and Dany and Aemon were in dire need of rest.
By dusk Jon had fed the horses and Tito had built a campfire near a tree, which sported a thick tree crown to protect them from the rain.
"They are rather wild," Jon remarked as he observed Dany feeding the dragons with the meat she had roasted over the campfire. The green and the black dragon were hissing and snarling at each other like snakes.
What stunned him more was his son. Aemon seemed unbothered by the commotion and continued to sleep on Dany's folded cloak placed next to her and Ghost.
"They always behave like that when I am feeding them," Dany assured him and threw a piece of meat to the blue dragon, who observed his brothers from the sidelines. Only the piece of meat managed to lure him from his comfortable place. "The green one and the black one are wild, but the blue one is well-behaved."
"They lack names," Jon stated after the blue dragon had lifted his head to fix him with his golden eyes.
It was not the first time.
Maybe he is confused by my Stark blood , Jon mused and stretched out his hand. In the last moment, he pulled his hand back, deciding that he didn't want to disturb the feeding ritual.
"It is not easy to decide on a proper name. Besides, the eggs belonged to you…you should have a say," Dany explained and smiled back at him.
"I heard the dragonlords of old rode such creatures to battle," Tito added, who had been listening to their conversation from the sidelines."My mother said they were able to control them through their special blood."
Dany looked hesitant, but Jon decided to give Tito the truth.
"Dany has dragon blood through her father and mother," Jon explained. "And I through my father."
Tito's eyes widened in fascination, his gaze flickering from Dany to Jon.
"Well, that explains a lot," his friend said, an amused smile playing on his lip as he pointed at the blue dragon. "And I think I found your dragon. This one is looking at you like a lovesick puppy."
"True," Dany agreed enthusiastically and graced Jon with an encouraging smile. "You should try feeding him. Give him time and he will become attached to you," she continued to explain and held up the stick with the roasted meat.
Jon nodded his head in understanding and pulled a piece of meat from the stick.
Hesitatingly, he moved closer to the blue dragon, who continued to stare back at him in silence.
Ever slowly, he knelt down before the creature and held the piece of meat above the dragon's head. Unlike his wild brothers the blue dragon waited until Jon had dropped the piece of meat on the ground before devouring it completely. Then, as if spurred on by Jon's actions the dragon propelled himself in the air and landed on Jon's arm.
Jon was stunned by the dragon's agility and Dany clapped her hands in appreciation.
"Good work!" she praised the blue dragon, who continued to crawl up Jon's shoulder, curling his spiky tail around his arm. Grinning, Dany handed Jon another piece of meat. "Now you have to reward him. That way he will learn to obey your commands."
Jon couldn't help but to smile. It seems training dragons was not much different than training direwolves.
"Your reward," he told the dragon and dropped the piece of meat on the ground. Quick as ever the dragon devoured it.
"Now touch his back," Dany instructed gently. "They like that, especially after a hearty meal."
Maybe I was wrong to compare them to direwolves? They are almost like babies.
Jon nodded his head in understanding and touched the dragon's scaled back. He couldn't help but to gasp when he felt the sheer warmth radiating from the dragon's skin. It felt like a flickering flame tickling his skin. And as Dany promised…the dragon seemed to appreciate his gesture and shrieked happily, before rubbing his head against Jon's hand.
"As I said…the dragon is in love," Tito remarked jokingly.
"It seems I have competition," Dany agreed and hoisted Aemon in her arms. He was crying, though Dany fed him not long ago.
She tried to feed him again, but Aemon continued to cry. Dany sighed and rocked him left and right while Jon continued to feed the dragons. As expected, the green one and the black one continued to fight for every piece of meat while the blue lay down beside Jon and curled his tail around himself.
Finally sated, the two wild dragons started to dig a hole in the ground and went to sleep.
By then Dany had calmed Aemon, though he remained fully awake, touching his mother's red robe.
"Dany," he said and cleared his throat. "Let me take care of Aemon for you. You mentioned that you want to get a proper wash in the brook. Now is your chance."
Happiness made her face glow. His offer seemed to please her.
"That would be lovely," she answered and knelt down next to him. Jon held up his arms and she placed Aemon in his arms. "It won't take long," she assured him with a quick smile and placed a kiss on his cheek, before leaving them.
Once she had disappeared out of sight Tito leaned over, showing Jon a piece of cloth. It looked like the ribbon usually wound around Tito's scabbard.
"Babies like it when you do this," Tito explained and dangled the ribbon in front of Aemon's eyes. To Jon's astonishment Aemon started to observe the movement of colourful garment and stretched out his hand to reach for it. His hands were too short, but it filled Jon with a dazzling realization. In a few moons from now this babe will crawl and run around. Suddenly, his mind was awash with hopes and dreams for the future. He imagined showing how to use a sword and other useful things. Maybe one day they will be able to return to Winterfell and then Jon could introduce him to Arya and Robb's children. They could grow up like brothers…
"Jon," Tito snapped him out of his reverie. "About time I say."
Jon was confused and lifted his head to meet Tito's gaze.
"What do you mean?"
"You finally smiled," his friends pointed out. "A smart little boy like this one deserves a smile."
Shame washed over him. It was true, but he couldn't help but to nurse a hint of resentment against Dany. He had his suspicions why she didn't tell him the truth about her pregnancy, but then she even avoided speaking about Mella and Shala's deaths.
So far Jon had allowed it to rest. Yet deep inside he wanted to know the reason. Did she think he would leave her or was she only afraid he would be angry with her?
I need to know , he knew and made a determination to speak with her. Later when we are alone.
Jon trusted and liked Tito, but he didn't want to speak about such personal matters in front of him.
"Aye," Jon agreed and brushed his hand over Aemon's head. His silver hair was soft like silk. The sheer touch warmed him from the inside out. "He is a smart boy," he added softly and picked the ribbon from Tito's hand. It was beautiful to behold and made from an expensive silken cloth.
"A woman?" Jon asked curiously.
Tito laughed and shook his head.
"No, it belongs to my older sister," he explained proudly. "She made me promise to bring it back."
"Clever of her," Jon complimented and thought of Arya. He wondered if Arya skewered Prince Joffrey with her little sword like she promised him during their last conversation. Jon met the Prince only briefly, but even Theon Greyjoy thought him a prideful little shit.
"Well, I will be pleased to meet your sister and your Mother," Jon added and handed him the ribbon.
"And my other siblings," Tito added and bared his teeth.
"Of course," Jon confirmed."How many siblings do you have?"
Tito wrinkled his brows and pondered his question for a moment.
"Twenty I think," he answered and Jon stared at him in disbelief. "I stopped counting."
"Your poor mother," was all that Jon managed to say in return.
"Not all of them are my full-blooded siblings. My mother was my father's head wife. He had two younger women in later years."
"That seems to surprise you," Tito remarked and gave him a knowing smile. "I heard the dragonlords of old used to take more than one wife. The one that conquered the Sunset Kingdoms even wed his sisters. In my tribe nobody would consider marrying a woman from the same town, but I guess everybody has his own traditions."
"Dany is not my sister," Jon countered, though she is his aunt. How strange that sounds. She is barely a year younger than me.
Tito shrugged his shoulders.
"I never thought that…you two don't show much resemblance to each other," Tito added and bound the ribbon back around the scabbard of his sword.
"It seems you managed to put Aemon to sleep," Dany interrupted their conversation, a warm smile showing on her lips as she regarded Aemon.
"It seems so," Jon agreed and Dany sat down next to his.
Jon didn't know what brought it on, but Tito rose to his feet and jerked his head towards the brook.
"I will leave you for a while," he added with a knowing smile and marched off.
"Do that," Jon added, his gaze flickering back to Dany. It seems Tito granted him his wish for privacy. Now or never.
"Dany," he said after he had placed Aemon back in her arms."I need to know…Why didn't you tell me that you were carrying our child?"
She paled visibly, fear written all over her face.
"There was more than one reason," she replied hesitatingly and swallowed hard. "I wanted to tell you, but then you told me about your plans to join the Second Sons. I wasn't happy about it, but then I recalled our first meeting. I told you that the world stands open to you and I thought it would be hypocritical of me if I stopped you from putting your abilities to use. I know you did it for the coin, but you are a good swordsman. In hindsight it was a mistake…I didn't think it could get this bloody. I spent my whole life locked up in Volantis…in truth I don't know as much of the world as I like to pretend," she explained, her voice growing eerily quiet as she continued. She was also trembling, her gaze fixed on the sleeping dragons.
"Well, I suppose we make good company. Fighting the Dothraki was terrifying and my survival was pure luck. I only know Winterfell."
"I suppose," she said and angled her head to look at him. "But I shouldn't have lied to you. Your anger is justified."
"I am no longer angry with you," he assured her and smoothed his hand through short hair. "Yet there is still much we need to talk…," he trailed off and leaned closer to kiss her. Her lips were soft and inviting, but he quickly pulled away, before he could be tempted for more.
"Before you left…you spoke of marriage," she said, a ghost of a smile tugging on her lips. "Do you need one of these robed priests that worship the Seven to accomplish it?"
"No, the North is different," Jon answered and shook his head. "Our ceremonies are much simpler. Marriage ceremonies usually take place during night and preferably during full moon. Then the bride and groom stand beneath a weirwood tree and exchange vows in front of witnesses. There is not much more to it than that."
"I heard about weirwood trees," she answered and wrapped Aemon in her cloak. "But I doubt you will be able to find one in Essos."
"No," he agreed sadly. "Any tree would do, but I do think it should be a pretty one. As you told me before…nobody in Essos will care if I am a bastard. It will be for us alone."
She smiled and seemed very pleased by his words.
"Finally," she said and brushed her hand over his cheek. "That is what I have been waiting for and was the reason I refused you last time. I didn't want you to marry me because you felt obligated to do so."
Her words hit him hard, tears burning in his eyes.
"That was not the reason I asked you," he answered in a trembling voice. "I did it because I care about you, because I love you…At least it feels that way…I am not good at this, but I should have expressed myself better…" he stuttered, but was stilled when she laid her lips on his. It felt so good, like fresh summer wine, but then she stopped and leaned back on her heels, eying him with wet eyes.
"I need to learn that too," she said and pursed her lips. "I am sorry for hiding the truth. I won't do it again. I promise."
…
Ned
Maester Aemon was breaking his fast when Ned entered his dimly-lit shed. The smell of raven shit and ink met his nostrils as he moved towards the large wooden table placed in the middle of the room. Parchments, scrolls and old leather-bound tomes covered half the table, hiding the shrunken old man from Ned's searching gaze.
On a smaller table sat the Maester's steward, a chubby boy named Samwell Tarly. Ned knew his Lord Father, but the boy and the grim Lord of Hornhill shared little resemblance. The boy was shy and clumsy, but supposedly very clever.
"Maester Aemon," Ned addressed the blind old man."You called for me?"
"I did," the Measter answered and lifted his head, his unseeing eyes staring off in the distance. "A raven arrived this morning…from Winterfell."
"My son?" Ned asked and swallowed hard.
The Maester smiled and pulled forth a raven scroll hidden in pocket of his dark robes. Then he shifted his attention to Samwell Tarly, who was watching them attentively.
"Samwell," the Maester addressed the boy. "I think you should do your work elsewhere."
The boy paled.
"Of course," the boy muttered anxiously and gathered his many maps. "Of course."
A moment later he was gone, leaving only Ned and Maester Aemon.
"I didn't dare to read it," the Maester added softly and held the roll out to Ned. "And I can assure you…this Janos Slynt and his companions will hear nothing of this conversation."
The mention of Janos Slynt made his blood boil. Ned dishonoured himself by accepting the false accusations of treason to save his daughters, but even that was not enough for the Lannisters. It shouldn't have surprised him that Tywin Lannister sent a dozen of Lannister loyalist's to keep a close eye on the former Lord of Winterfell. The only relief was that the Lord Commander disapproved of their presence.
At least they won't be able to follow me beyond the Wall.
"I thank you, Maester," Ned replied politely and picked the raven scroll Maester Aemon's hand. Carefully, he unrolled the piece of paper and read the few precious lines written by Robb's hand.
It was not much, only an assurance that he made peace with Tywin Lannister and fulfilled his vow to Walder Frey to wed one of his daughters. Yet it was the mention of Arya's safe return to Winterfell that brought the greatest relief, though Sansa's remaining betrothal to Joffrey Baratheon left a bitter taste in his mouth.
I should have left after the wolf died , he realized far too late. I should have never ventured south.
"Bad news?" the Maester Aemon asked and graced him with a toothless smile. He looked fragile and sickly and yet he was inquiring about Ned's well-being.
"No," Ned answered and forced a smile over his lips. "My son informed me that he bent the knee to King Joffrey. One of my daughters finally made it home, but the other one remains betrothed to the King."
"So it is true," the old man remarked and chuckled. "The King is a bastard."
Ned was stunned by his directness, but tried to keep his mask in place.
"I confessed my crime," Ned insisted. "That is why I am here."
"Indeed," Maester Aemon confirmed and leaned on the table."Yet it doesn't change the truth, the boy is not Robert Baratheon's son. You are not the first man that was punished for revealing an uncomfortable truth."
"How can you be sure?" Ned asked hesitatingly.
"I am blind, but my hearing is very good," the old man explained. "My childhood in King's Landing taught me how to spot a lying man, but you don't have to fear me. I am a man of the Night's Watch and I take no part in the struggles between your family and the Lannisters. I was simply curious, but I have to admit… it fills me with joy to see the proud Tywin Lannister fooled by his children, though it won't ease the loss of my family."
His family.
The realization hit him like thunder. The man in front of him is Jon's last living relative
"True," Ned agreed and exhaled deeply while holding the raven scroll over a burning candle. "We all lost much through the Rebellion. For whatever it is worth, I didn't approve of Tywin Lannisters butchery."
Yet his words' didn't help to erase the pain written all over the old man's face.
Guilt clenched around his heart like a tight noose and spurred him to headless actions.
"How well did you know, Prince Rhaegar?" he asked, before he even registered that the words had left his mouth.
The old man shrugged his shoulders, surprise apparent on his wrinkled face. "I met him only once, but he wrote me letters. He liked discussing prophecies and sometimes we also spoke of personal matters…," he trailed off.
"Prophecy," Ned muttered to himself, recalling his last conversation with Lya. She spoke about a prophecy or whatever her feverish mind conjured up in her last moments. Utter nonsense.
"My Lord," the Maester began, but Ned cut him off.
"I am no Lord," he insisted and met the old man's gaze. "Did Prince Rhaegar ever speak to you about my sister?"
"He did," Maester Aemon confirmed, a weary expression taking hold of his features. "I know the prevailing opinion among your people is that he raped her, but the way he spoke about her points in a different direction. Forgive me for saying so, but I had the impression that the feeling was mutual, for in his last letter he informed me that his beloved Lyanna is joyful to carry his child. I always wondered if the child survived," he continued, his unseeing eyes wide and hopeful.
Ned felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over his head.
Gods be good , Ned thought and braced himself against the table. He knows.
"My sister died of a fever…" Ned began and wanted to deny the existence of such a child, but when he saw the tears rolling down the old man's cheeks he shuddered and paused. He was unable to control it, the words leaving his mouth, before his mind was able to register them. "She died of childbed fever."
Utter silence reigned between them and the old man grasped the handle of his chair with such a force that Ned feared he might hurt himself.
"And the child?" the Maester asked his breathing raggedly. "Did the child die?"
"No," Ned replied, not able to lie in the old man's face. "The boy lived."
"A boy," the old man muttered weakly, leaning on the table. His breathing grew laboured and he started to trembled. "Where is the boy?"
"Far away," Ned replied vaguely, but seeing the man's heartfelt reaction he doubted the he would ever betray his secret. If anything he gave the old man peace by telling him that not all of his family members perished in the Rebellion. "Jon left because he found out the truth."
"The bastard son that should have joined the Night's Watch," the old Maester said, realization showing on his withered face. "Your brother mentioned him. Was you brother aware of the truth?"
"Aye," Ned confirmed. "Benjen knew. I also told my wife and son. Now you can count yourself among these precious few who know the truth."
"Where did the boy go?" the old man asked almost impatiently.
"Essos," Ned replied unwillingly. "He left for Essos."
"I thank you for telling me the truth," the old man said, a smile banishing away his sadness. "I thought I was the last of my kind, but it grieves me that the boy will be alone... a Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing."
…