From the Echoes of Ashes
Chapter Two
Rhaegar knew few pleasures in life anymore. His children were nearly all that was left to him. Any good news from them, about them, was enough to make him feel happiness in the long stretches of depression.
When he'd received the letter informing him that the boy so many called Jon Baratheon was, without a doubt, his son, he'd all but crowed with joy. For a few hours, he didn't think the servants and guards even recognized him anymore.
He'd always known, from the very moment he'd heard of Lyanna's pregnancy, but there was no way to get to her. No way to save her from Robert Baratheon's grasp.
As much as it had pained him to see her fall into that man's hands, he'd understood passing his child off as Robert's. If something had happened to the babe because of that man's irrational hatred...Rhaegar would have been devastated.
What he had never been able to understand, though, was that she had never told their son the truth. She allowed him to live the lie, to delude himself even when told the truth by his true family. If Lyanna had simply said something, Prince Aemon would have had his place in Valyria years ago.
Instead they had to wait until Aemon had a son with unmistakably Targaryen features for him to realize the truth in Rhaegar's words.
But the wait was worth it, to have his boy here, before him. There was no formal greeting in the throne room, no awkward attempts at courtly behavior. As soon as Rhaegar was told Aemon had arrived, he had gone to his personal solar and awaited him.
His son looked exhausted. Fragile. In all the years they'd known each other, even across the battlefield, Rhaegar couldn't ever remember him looking like this.
"You were right," he muttered, glaring at the wall behind Rhaegar's head.
"I did not wish to be right to hurt you. I love you, I have always loved you."
Aemon scoffed. "You barely know me."
"Do you think I haven't read everything I could about you? That I haven't listened to any story someone would tell?"
What had Robert done to his child, he wondered, that Aemon could doubt a father's love? If Rhaegar hadn't already wanted the man dead for so many other crimes, this would have surely done it.
He approached, cautiously. The babe rested in Aemon's arms, surprisingly quiet-he'd been told Aemon had been like that, too, as a child. Peaceful. His older children had both been hellions, so he could only imagine that Aemon and his grandson got that from his mother's side.
His grandson. He had two grandchildren already but he did not think he'd ever get over the feeling of it. If even just one thing had gone differently during the Rebellion, all of his children might be dead. He would have never known the joys of seeing them grow into the people they now were, of seeing them have children of their own.
"I have always been your father. You have always been my son. You are not a stranger to yourself just because of that."
His words seemed to be the right path to take, as Aemon squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head. Holding back tears, perhaps.
"What now?"
"Now? Whatever you want. You are a prince, still, and it is your brother who is my heir. You are free to stay, or to travel if you wish. Though...I would like to spend time with you." He knew the rest of their family would, as well, that Aegon and Rhaenys were desperate to speak with their little brother in a peaceful setting.
"Just because you sired me?"
"Perhaps that's all I did, but that's not all I would like to do. I want to be your father, I want to make up for all the time we missed." He wrapped an arm around Aemon, who did not move to push him off. "Your life has been full of deceit, but you know I have never been anything but honest with you."
He knew his son must feel vulnerable, must not know who he could trust. Rhaegar would make sure that he was who Aemon looked to, that he was who Aemon put that trust in. No one else would come between them.