i. "Would you like to meet him?" Jon's head shot up at Illyrio's question. The fat merchant was regarding him speculatively. He brought one hand up, the rings on his finger glittering and glimmering in the light. "You are yet young." A benevolent smile made its way to the man's face.

Jon did not buy it for a single moment. "Why now? You've known me for a good number of years." He returned his attention to the small ledger on the table. "You've never made this proposition to me before."

"I stand to gain much," the man admitted. Jon nodded his head in understanding and acceptance.

ii. "Lyanna wrapped her arms around her son, between two impulses. She wanted to hold on to him, but she also wished to pull him inside the house. "Mother, you ought to release me before we both crash to the ground," Jon laughed, his arms securing her.

"But shan't let me fall, my dear boy," she offered in reply. Finally, she let go. "Come on in then. Don't keep me out in the cold. These old bones, you know." She smiled lightly at the disbelief in his eyes.

"Nonsense, mother, you're as spry as you've ever been." Jon closed the door after entering. "I wanted to speak with you on a matter."

iii. The sea was gentle and the wind was not very strong. Lyanna looked down into the water, resting comfortably against her son's shoulder. "I still cannot understand what you hope to gain by this," she said in a quiet voice, her face drawn and pale. Her hands shook with fear.

"There is nothing to be gained, but I am curious." His answer was straight-forward, so much like her own would have been in similar circumstances. Their leaving of the Seven Kingdoms hadn't been an exile. Had she wished to, she could have returned at any point, Lyanna thought, eyeing the sparkling vastness spreading before her.

iv. Summerhall stood tall and proud. There was no trace of the old palace, the one that had gone up in flames. Lyanna pulled the cloak tighter around her. She gave an unsure glance Varys' way. Why the man wished to aid then was beyond her, yet the thought of seeing her little girl and Rhaegar again pushed her forward.

"Come, my lady," Varys spoke, his voice soft, unctuous. "Be careful of your step."

Jon's hand tightened its grip around her hand when she stiffened. "I am no lady, Lord Varys." The man simply smiled at what he heard in her voice.

v. The sound of footsteps passing by the door did not help alleviate the knot in Lyanna's stomach. She stood by the window, trying to ignore her own anxiety. And she had been having some success when the door finally burst open and her head snapped around.

A young woman stood in the doorway, luminous eyes fixing on her and Jon. Lyanna barely had time to take a step forward before her arms were full. "Mother," the other female cried. "You really are here." A full head taller than Lyanna, she could easily envelop her in a hug.

"Visenya," Lyanna allowed herself to speak the name.

vi. "What news have you on this day, Lord Varys?" the King asked, barely looking up from all the sheets of paper strewn across his desk.

"News that should please Your Majesty," the eunuch replied. Rhaegar resisted the urge to give him an annoyed glance. The man could be irritable, for all he had his uses. Still, Rhaegar gave him his attention. Understanding it as a sign to proceed, the man did not waste another moment. "I have brought the Lady Lyanna and her son here, Your Majesty."

For a long moment he did not understand.

Rhaegar shot up from his seat and stormed out the door without another word.

vii. "Look, father! Look who is come!" Visenya spoke loudly over the sounds of his hammering heart. His daughter had her arms wrapped around a young man about her own age. A familiar face stared back at him, startled and sheepish.

Seated was another woman, her features also familiar. Lyanna was looking at him, her countenance a bit hesitant, unsure. She stood up slowly. Visenya and his son were watching them with poorly disguised interest.

"You never did tell me." Rhaegar knew she was aware what he spoke of by the way her eyes widened.

A smile bloomed upon her lips. "I shall let him tell you. My son, come and introduce yourself."

viii. Aegon eyed Jon as one usually did a strange insect. "So you are the other bastard," Rhaenys remarked lightly from her seat. Visenya could not help but think it was good that father was not with her. Still, she scowled at her half-siblings.

"Aye, that I am," Jon replied jovially enough though before she could say anything. "What of it?"

Seemingly perturbed by the frankness, Rhaenys blushed. "What of it?" she parroted, her eyes narrowing. "I am a Princess. You cannot speak to me like that."

"Leave off, Rhaenys," her own brother countered. "Can you wield a sword?"

"If I must," Jon replied.

"You must. Come with me." The invitation was not to be refused.

ix. "So you haven't wedded him?" Jon had not expected that. "Mother expected you might have."

"I refused," his twin told him with a bright smile. Jon touched the crown of her head lightly. Her hair was silver. "Aegon threw a tantrum. It was worth it."

"There is something in the way he looks at you though," Jon felt compelled to warn her. He felt strangely comfortable in her presence, as if she were the missing piece he'd found that he had had need of.

"You think I shouldn't goad him." Peels of laughter passed her lips. Jon joined her. "He is not dangerous, my Aegon, he just spends a bit too much time on his high horses."

x. "Stay." Lyanna turned her eyes upon him as the word reached her ears. A single word. She waited expectantly for him to continue. He knew well enough why she'd had to leave. "Elia has gone back to Dorne. The realm has its heir. There is peace." His hands brushed against hers. "Stay. I have nothing left to give them."

Tracing the line of his jaw with the tip of one finger, Lyanna leaned against him. "I love you," she sighed; there was no sadness to be heard though.

"And I love you, as I always have." He kissed her lips lovingly.