Sundered

Chapter Three

Jon did not want to be there.

For nearly a year he'd avoided the war, his age and desire to avoid potential kinslaying justification enough for Daeron. He stayed in King's Landing as his family fought across Westeros, helping Daeron to run the kingdoms even if he wasn't helping him to win any war.

But it had never been enough for Brynden, whose hatred of their other brothers only seemed to increase with every battle. Finally he managed to convince Daeron to send Jon, that he needed some show of his loyalty beyond that Jon was there with him instead of with Daemon.

He'd mostly watched, settled in with Brynden's archers, as below the battle waged on. He recognized Daemon's armor and standard and was on edge as he fought Ser Gwayne Cobray below, perhaps the greatest sword fight Jon had ever seen. Or anyone else there, he'd imagine, if they could manage to stop their own fighting.

Then, as the fight ended with Daemon the victor, but honorably seeing to his opponent, Brynden raised his bow.

Jon knew what he meant to do, horror sliding through him with the knowledge.

He loved Daeron, maybe he even loved Daeron more than Daemon. But Daeron was not there-Brynden, creepy Brynden with his creepier magic who was about to kill their kin.

For Jon, his knife made no killing blow. It wasn't meant to. In the chaos of Brynden's injury, before those around him realized who had thrown the blade, Jon ran. Down, down the hill, dodging fighters, until he reached Aegon, Aemon, and, most importantly of all, Daemon.

"You have to move," he screamed, frantic, knowing that if there was any strength left in Brynden he'd be preparing to murder them all.

"Jon," shock, relief, worry, there were too many emotions in Daemon's voice to name.

"The Raven's Teeth are above, in range," all eyes swiveled to where Jon had appeared from and in less than a heartbeat Daemon was calling out orders and shields were being raised.

Aegon and Aemon, now on guard, continued their push at Maekar's left. Jon's heart felt heavy with worry as he realized his nephews would be facing each other soon.

His brother grabbed him, pulling him towards the rear of his forces, breaking him from his distraction. "Why are you here? You're supposed to be back home."

"Brynden made me come."

Daemon cursed, insults falling from his mouth that surely originated in Aegor's. "This battlefield is no place for you. You'll never lift your sword at any of us, you'll be killed if you stay out here."

"I wounded Brynden," he muttered, though he didn't know why, he had no desire to go out there and join the battle.

"You'll need to tell Aegor all about that." He held Jon for just a moment more, as if memorizing how it felt to hug him, before leaving him with the maesters, who were seeing to Ser Gwayne and countless other wounded men.

In a few more hours, Jon would see Daemon again.

He'd hear how Aegor slew a wounded Brynden. How Baelor had been forced to retreat, how Maekar had died.

He'd know that Maekar would have lived, if Jon had let Daemon die.

His presence did nothing to dissuade Daemon from continuing, from plotting more battles, more death. If anything, it made it worse, with nothing he said keeping Daemon from spreading lies that Jon had turned against Daeron, that yet another of Aegon IV's sons had acknowledged his rightful king.

At least, they felt like lies. Jon prayed to the gods, Old and New, that Daeron and Baelor believed them to be lies.

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Notes: The Battle of the Redgrass Field was the end of the First Blackfyre Rebellion. Bloodraven killed Daemon and his eldest sons Aegon and Aemon one after the other. Bittersteel would go on to blind one of Bloodraven's eyes and retreat to Essos. It's largely thought that if any one thing had been a little different-if Daemon hadn't stopped to see to his opponent after one of the best sword fights in history, supposedly, if multiple of his allies hadn't been delayed in various ways, etc, that the battle wouldn't have been such a gigantic loss.