Chapter 13: Confession
Summary:
As Jon interrogates Jaime, Barristan, and Prince Oberyn about their intentions for seeking out House Targaryen, Doreah goes into labor. Jaime confesses his reasons for slaying the Mad King. Daenerys and Jon reveal the truth of how they came together.
Across the sea in Westeros, Ned Stark and his company find an unexpected companion on the road to Winterfell...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter Thirteen: Confession
Nobody save beggars were in the streets of Braavos now, not after Frostfyre's furious bellows had consumed the sky above the city. Even the street rats were cowering until they were certain the dragon was gone.
Jon and Ser Jorah walked Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan, and Prince Oberyn ahead of them, swords at the ready. Dany strode beside Jon, glancing around and behind them to ensure they weren't being followed.
"Left turn here," Jon ordered. The men did as he asked without complaint.
He had no idea how he was going to handle these three. Oberyn was the most aggressive, but he'd started to calm down a little. Not that Jon took that to mean much of anything.
Barristan he judged to be the most trustworthy for the time being. The man was a figure of legend, a Targaryen Loyalist who had bent the knee to Robert after Rhaegar's death at the Battle of the Trident. He didn't blame him for choosing life over death, and he'd come here now to pledge his sword.
That would have been entirely more believable if he didn't bring Jaime fucking Lannister along with him.
For the life of him, Jon had no idea what the man's angle was. He had been more outwardly emotional upon seeing Daenerys than Jon could ever have expected, and he'd been willing to die right then and there for his crimes.
Maybe he should have killed him.
But Frostfyre's interest in him was unusual. She didn't treat him like a Targaryen—she would have tried to touch him at least were that the case—but his scent intrigued her. The dragon knew something. Jon was rabidly curious as to why she'd stopped intimidating Jaime in favor of studying him.
He grumbled to himself. He was going to have to figure out why his dragon had done such a thing. She certainly had no qualms about ripping men to pieces. Sparing the Kingslayer the way she had meant something.
"Another left," Jon commanded. They were on the street where their home was now.
Dany suddenly stopped in her tracks and Jon paused. "What's wrong?"
The other men also stopped, and the three at the front turned only slightly to look at them.
"I thought I heard…" Dany trailed off for a moment, frowning.
Not far away, Jon heard the muffled sound of a woman screaming in pain. His blood ran cold as his eyes jerked back to the house with the red door.
"Doreah!" Dany gasped, racing ahead of them.
"Princess—Your Grace!" Jorah protested as Jon bolted after her, straight past their prisoners.
He got to the door before Dany and threw it open, flinching as a shriek filled the air. Fearing the worst, Jon stormed to Doreah's room, the entrance to which was wide open.
Irri and Jhiqui were bustling around Doreah, who lay on the bed gasping in her nightgown. She was on her back, covered in sweat with her legs propped up. A contraction ran through her body and she let out another wail.
The babe is coming now, Jon realized with horror. He spun around as Dany shot into the room to her friend's side. Jorah was standing at the door, his sword to the three men behind him as he peered into the House.
"Go get the midwife," Jon ordered immediately.
"Your Grace—!"
"Did I fucking stutter?!" Jon snarled, causing the Knight to jump and rush off. He glared at the three men, who watched him warily.
"You three…" Jon bit his lip, flashing a glance into the house. He couldn't keep an eye on them here. With a growl, he moved aside. "Get in. Go by the fireplace and stay there."
He could hear Dany speaking with Irri and Jhiqui in Dothraki as he guided the men into the house, sword at the ready, and directed them to stand on the far side of the fireplace. Jon retreated toward the door to Doreah's room and carefully closed it. He didn't want them to see.
Doreah screamed again from inside her room and Jon silently prayed.
It took only a few minutes before Jorah returned with the midwife, who bustled into the house and began to give orders. "Hot water and rags, now."
"Jorah, get one of the barrels," Jon told him. He sheathed his sword, not having a choice, and stormed to the fireplace. They had a steel pot used for boiling water next to it, but he'd have to remove the eggs.
He knelt and reached into the flames. Jon heard a startled gasp and then someone pulled him back harshly.
"Have you lost your senses?!" Jaime demanded.
Jon scowled and thrust his hand at Jaime's face, forcing him to look. "I will forgive that only because you know nothing about what I can do! Fire does not burn me. Now shut the hell up and get out of the way!"
He turned back to the flames and reached in again, pulling the dragon eggs out one at a time and carefully setting them on the ground. He was aware of the stunned expressions on the faces of his prisoners, but he didn't care at the moment. Jorah was already back with a small barrel of water, filling the pot. By the time the three eggs were removed, it was full enough for the moment.
Jon and Jorah heaved the pot onto a rack over the flames, and Jon threw a few more logs in to get the fire going hotter. It would take time to boil, but it was a start.
"Get the rags, towels, whatever we have," he told Jorah. Jon stormed back to Doreah's room, which only slightly cracked open. Her cries were filling the house. He peered inside and found the midwife kneeling between Doreah's open legs. "The water is heating now. What else?"
"Where are the towels?"
"Here!" Jorah bustled past Jon and dumped a huge armful of them into a chair, which he pulled up next to the bed.
"Good. You men—out, now."
"You need anything, you have it," Jon told her, but he knew better than to question the woman. He knew nothing of childbirth.
He flashed a glance at Dany, who was staring at him with fear in her eyes, and he wished more than anything he could comfort her somehow. But he and Jorah obeyed the midwife and left the room, closing the door behind them.
Jon walked back to the fireplace, grabbing the chair Doreah sat in so often and taking a seat. He leaned down to the floor and picked up the cream dragon egg, holding the warm object close to his body.
He lifted a hand and rubbed his brow stressfully.
"Your Grace?" Barristan said hesitantly.
"What is it?" Jon sighed.
"Is there any way we can assist?"
"The midwife says we are not needed any longer," he answered, looking up at the three men. "The best way we can help is to stay out of their way. They'll be coming in and out to get hot water soon, I think."
He was quiet for a moment before gesturing to them. "You can sit if you want. I apologize for the lack of chairs. We don't often have such company."
"It is no trouble, Your Grace," Barristan dipped his head, and the three of them sat down on the floor not far away from Jon. Jorah stood just behind his King, a hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
"How did you do that?" Oberyn asked.
"Do what?"
"The flames. You…you are unharmed."
Jon sighed, leaning his head back. He stroked the dragon egg in his hands in an attempt to calm down. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Prince Oberyn. Daenerys and I—we have more Valyrian magic in our blood than many of our ancestors ever did. I do not know why."
"Daenerys doesn't burn, either?" Jaime looked startled.
"No, she does not."
"What is that you have? If I might ask?"
Jon looked down at the cream object. "A dragon egg."
Oberyn sucked in a sharp breath. "Your dragon laid them?"
"No. These were supposed to be gifts to Daenerys for her wedding to Khal Drogo in Pentos," he scowled. "After I called the arrangement off, the Magister gave them to us. Petrified dragon eggs are of no use to him."
"Petrified?"
"Time has turned them to stone," Jon admitted. "But we think there might be a way to quicken them."
Hopefully not the same way Frostfyre's eggs was quickened, Jon thought with a lump in his throat. Had Lyanna's death been the catalyst to let his dragon hatch? Or had it been his father's demise?
He didn't want to know.
Irri bustled out of Doreah's room, rushing to the steel pot with several towels. Jorah helped her move the water away from the flames so she could wet them, then she hurried back to the birth.
Doreah's next cry sent a shiver down his spine. He was no expert, but that didn't sound good at all.
Jon looked up at the Kingslayer. "Why are you here?"
"I came to serve Rhaella's daughter," Jaime told him quietly. "If you'll allow me to do so."
"Why now? If you are so loyal, why did you never seek her out?"
"I have been lost for a very long time, Your Grace. Queen Rhaella—I was her personal guard for over a year. I was very fond of her…when she died, when I learned that my father had orchestrated the murders of Princess Elia and her children—"
"—So Tywin did give the order?" Oberyn hissed furiously.
"Let him speak," Jon snapped, studying Jaime.
"When they were gone it felt like…" Jaime looked down. "It felt like I had lost every good thing I had sworn to protect. I gave up. I let myself go down a road of bitterness and depravity. I was just done."
His fingers caressed the dragon egg in his lap. "So you gave up on Daenerys and Viserys."
"I thought it was just Viserys at first," he admitted. "I was kept in the dark for many days following the death of King Aerys. No one trusted me, as you can imagine. All I knew for some time was that Rhaella was dead and Viserys had been smuggled away. I didn't know Daenerys had been born until some months afterwards…and by then, I had no idea where to look."
Just Viserys? Jon thought, frowning.
He brushed the thought away for the time being and focused on the Kingslayer again.
"I have no illusions as to what my grandfather was, Ser Jaime," Jon told him quietly. "I know well that he was an evil man. The things he did—he should have been ripped from the Iron Throne long before you killed him. But I would know what pushed you to do it."
Jaime looked uncomfortable, but Jon would not have it. "If you want me to give you even the slightest bit of trust, if you expect me to allow you to guard Daenerys at all, I need to know these things. If you cannot do that, I will take your head right here."
He didn't care if he sounded harsh or unfair. He wouldn't leave their fates to chance.
Doreah let out another bloodcurdling scream and he forced himself to keep his nerve.
The Kingslayer nodded. His gaze trailed to the fireplace.
"Have you heard of Wildfire?"
"I have."
"The Mad King was obsessed with it," Jaime confessed, and his eyes were haunted. "He loved to watch people burn. The way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off their bones. It brought him pleasure. He burned anyone he thought was against him. Lords he didn't like, Hands who disobeyed him…Aerys saw traitors everywhere."
The Kingslayer's jaw tightened. "So he had his pyromancers place caches of Wildfire all over the city."
Jon's blood froze. "What?"
"He ordered caches of Wildfire to be placed everywhere," Jaime repeated, swallowing. "Beneath the Sept of Baelor, the slums of Flea Bottom, houses, stables, taverns…even beneath the Red Keep itself."
Barristan and Jorah were pale, even in the low light. Oberyn was staring at Jaime as if he'd grown a second head.
"By then, Rhaella and Viserys were on Dragonstone and the King had ordered me to remain by his side. A hostage, you see," the Lannister Knight looked away from the flames, blinking spots out of his eyes. "Finally…the day of reckoning came. Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident. But my father made it there first, with the whole Lannister army at his back. He promised to defend the city against the rebels."
Jamie scowled. "I knew my father better than that. He's never been one to pick the losing side. I told the King as much. I urged him to surrender peacefully. But he didn't listen to me, of course. He didn't listen to Varys, who told him the same thing…but he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle. That grey, sunken cunt. 'You can trust the Lannisters', he said. 'The Lannisters have always been true friends of the crown'.
"So, we opened the gates and my father sacked the city. Once again, I went to the King, begging him to surrender. To get Princess Elia and her children to safety, at least. And he told me to bring him my father's head."
The Kingslayer's face was ashen. "Then he turned to his pyromancer, whom he had named Hand of the King in those last hours. 'Burn them all', he said. 'Burn them in their homes, burn them in their beds…'"
Jon realized with a shock of pure horror exactly what Aerys had ordered his pyromancer to do. He had meant to turn the whole of King's Landing into a gigantic pyre, to burn every last soul in the city.
Doreah's screams only made the chill in his blood and the horror in his mind worse.
"Tell me," Jaime spat out, nearly trembling from memories that had never truly stopped tormenting him. "If you were a man sworn to serve the King, and that King ordered you to take your father's head and stand by as tens of thousands of men, women, and children burned alive, would you have done it? Would you have done nothing?"
Even Barristan lowered his eyes from Jaime, his expression gaunt and sick. Jon did not look away. He couldn't.
"First I killed the pyromancer," Jaime told them gruffly. "Then when the Mad King turned to flee, I drove my sword through his back. 'Burn them all', he kept saying. 'Burn them all'. I don't think he expected to die, he…he meant to burn with the rest of us and rise again. Reborn as a dragon, turn his enemies to ash. I slit his throat to make sure that didn't happen."
None of them said anything for a time. There was only the sounds of Doreah's cries as she fought to bring her child into the world.
Jon finally broke the silence between them, his voice hoarse. "If this is true, why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell Lord Stark when he found you?"
"Stark," Jaime snarled, his face twisted with pain and rage. "You think that the honorable Ned Stark wanted to hear my side of the story? He judged me guilty the moment he set eyes on me, set eyes on my sword soaked in the Mad King's blood."
He opened his mouth, wanting to protest, and faltered. Would his uncle have listened to Jaime? With his great penchant for honor? Knowing the reputation of the Lannisters, seeing the evidence of Jaime's betrayal for himself?
Would he have listened?
A thought struck him. "Who else knows about this?"
"My sister Cersei. King Robert knew, but he's dead now, of course," Jaime muttered. "Beyond that, just the men in this room."
Jon's felt whatever blood was in his face quickly flee. He had never heard this tale before, and it should have been widespread. "Was the Wildfire removed?"
"I told King Robert and the pyromancer who took over after I killed the old one," he said, but his voice was defeated. "Robert never took my word seriously. Grand Maester Pycelle always warned him that my mind was addled from being the Mad King's hostage for so long. I told Cersei when he wouldn't listen, and she promised to do something about it. But I was unsure…The pyromancer said he'd handle it, but I was confined to the Red Keep for so long afterwards…I never got to see if they took it out."
"Jaime," Jon breathed. "Tell me King's Landing is not sitting atop caches of Wildfire."
The Kingslayer looked up at him, and Jon saw the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I'm not sure."
"Fifteen years and you never bothered to check?!" Oberyn demanded.
"Who do you think I am?!" Jaime snapped back, his fury returned in a split-second. "I am the Kingslayer! Oathbreaker! Man without honor! Especially back then, and it never got any easier over the years! I have always been watched and judged! My word meant nothing! I asked my sister time and time again, and she always told me the Wildfire had been dealt with. But I know Cersei and…and I do not think she was telling me the truth. Besides that, I never knew exactly where the pyromancers put it. Aerys always had me at his side when they were being deposited."
"You could have told your fellow Kingsguard!"
"Yes, the Kingsguard!" Jaime spat, mocking and angry. "The men sworn to protect the King above all else, who stood by and listened to their Queen's cries as she was raped by that King! So great was their honor to defend their monarch! Do you know what they told me when I said we were sworn to protect the Queen, too? As I stood outside her chambers and urged them to help me stop it?! They said we are to protect her, 'but not from him'! You think they would have listened to my excuses, my reasons for breaking my oath?"
"Even so—"
"ENOUGH!" Jon roared. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. Doreah's cries were growing weaker, and he desperately tried not to focus on that.
"Arguing about it doesn't help," Jon tried to reason, staring at the cream dragon egg in his lap. He had to focus on that. His mind was reeling and his temper was flaring. He needed to be back in control of himself. "Jaime tried and nobody listened. Whether or not he could have done more is irrelevant now."
He rubbed his face, squeezed his eyes shut. "None of us can do anything about the Wildfire. No one in King's Landing would listen to us, and no one in the Seven Kingdoms can convince Cersei or King Joffrey to do a damn thing about it. The only way the Wildfire goes is if they're removed from power."
"And how do you plan on doing that?" Oberyn asked tightly. "You have no armies."
"You think I am not aware of that?" Jon snapped. "I never had any ambition to claim the Iron Throne. All I wanted when I came to Essos was to protect Daenerys. That's why I am here. You are in more of a position to do something about it than I am, Prince Oberyn."
"So it's my responsibility now to tell the realm that the capital is sitting on caches of Wildfire?"
"Don't twist my words. What do you suggest I do? Fly to the Red Keep with my dragon and tell King Joffrey his golden arse is seated above a pyre?"
Barristan spoke up. "His Grace is right. There's nothing we can do right now. But it's not a threat we should ignore, even if you don't mean to reclaim the Iron Throne."
"I don't want the Wildfire there any more than you do," Jon replied. "I can…I don't know. Perhaps I can get word to Lord Stark in Winterfell. If Joffrey is removed from power, he might be able to do something about the caches."
"He'll wonder where you got the information," Jaime pointed out quietly. "As soon as my name is brought up—"
"I'll deal with that," Jon sighed. He could feign to his uncle that he and Dany had shared Dragon Dreams about the Mad King's plot, as much as he disliked the thought of lying to him. "But it's still an idea that is far and away."
They all fell silent and Jon suddenly froze.
It was too quiet.
He rose from his chair, setting the egg down with its siblings, and strode to the birthing room. He turned his head and listened. A child's cry graced his ears.
Jon slowly opened the door and looked inside. His heart stopped at the sight of all the blood between Doreah's legs, at how pale and weak she looked on the bed. Doreah held her babe to her breast, crying as her child suckled. Dany was there, helping to keep the babe close, for Doreah was too weak to do so.
"Visenya," Doreah sobbed, her voice hoarse and broken from her screams. "Her name is—Visenya."
Irri, Jhiqui, and the midwife were cleaning up the soiled sheets. When the midwife spotted him, she approached. Her expression was grim.
When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "You should seek out a wet nurse as soon as possible. I do not expect her to survive the night. It was a difficult birth."
Jon felt a lump close up his throat, taking in Doreah's broken body, and nodded tightly. "Can you give Ser Jorah an address? A recommendation?"
"I can," she murmured. "Are you the father?"
"No," he whispered. "But the babe is my cousin."
"My condolences," she dipped her head, but before she could leave, he grasped her arm.
"Could a Maester help her now?"
"I doubt it," the midwife told him, glancing back at Doreah. "I was a healer before I was a midwife. I've done as much as they would. There is…not much else to do. It's up to her now. I can seek a Maester out with your Knight, if it pleases you."
"Do it," he requested, then she bustled out of the room to speak with Ser Jorah.
Jon walked into the room quietly, trying to stay out of Irri and Jhiqui's way as he approached Dany and Doreah. Dany saw him and his heart broke at the sight of the tears in her eyes. Her bottom lip quivered.
"Doreah?"
The woman looked at him, her face wet from tears and pale from the blood she had lost. "Your—your…"
"Jon," he said softly, taking her hand. "Just Jon, Doreah."
"Jon," she swallowed, crying again. Her babe was suckling at the breast of her dying mother. "Please…"
"She'll be fine," he promised. His eyes were stinging. "You have my word. She will be happy and free and we will protect her for all her life. And when we are gone, dragons will protect her in our place."
"I'm afraid. I don't…I don't want to die. I want to be with her…"
Dany dropped her head to the bed beside her friend and sobbed. Her whole body shook with her cries.
"Don't give up," he choked out. "Fight. Fight to be with her as long as you can. Visenya needs you."
He took her empty hand and guided it to the child on her breast. "That's your daughter. Now, you tell the God of Death to fuck off, because she needs you more than he does."
It brought a shaky smile to her lips. "Alright."
"Say it," he told her quietly. "Hearing yourself say it helps."
Doreah swallowed, took a shuddering breath. "Fuck off."
A broken laugh left Dany beside him and he couldn't help but smile weakly. "There you go. Dany is going to stay here with you, and whatever you need, she will get you. And I will be here at a moment's notice."
She nodded, closing her eyes and trying to rest without falling into the clutches of death, whose fingers were stretching towards her closer and closer.
Jon knelt next to Dany and gently cupped her cheek. Her face was soaked in tears and he brushed them away with his thumb before kissing her sweet. "Do you need anything?"
She swallowed. "The dragon eggs."
"Done," he murmured.
Doreah made it through the night, if only just. She had a terrible birthing fever that would not break, and her body was already weak. Irri and Jhiqui, as well as the midwife and Maester they'd brought in were doing all they could.
The wet-nurse was currently in the chair by the fireplace Doreah had frequented, though she'd pulled it a bit further away, as the heat made her uncomfortable. Visenya was suckling at her breast. Doreah's body needed to heal now—the demands of feeding a babe was something she couldn't afford.
Dany had to focus on Visenya as much as she could. Her whole being felt hollow. Jon had told her Jaime's story, the reason why he killed her father, when they were sitting beside Doreah as she rested.
She wanted to believe that the Kingslayer was wrong. That he was a liar who just said those things to keep his life.
But knowing the sort of monster her father was…she thought it was more than possible he was telling the truth.
Dany blinked away the wetness in her eyes and watched little Visenya. The babe had the shape of her mother's face, but her silver hair and the peek of vivid, purple eyes spoke of her true heritage.
Any chance of hiding her Targaryen roots was a thing of the past. The traits she'd inherited from Viserys were too damning to be ignored.
Nobody had gotten any sleep last night. Jon had seen to it that their three…guests? Prisoners? Daenerys wasn't sure, nor did she especially care right then. But he'd seen to it that they at least had something comfortable to rest on. Pillows and blankets, even if they were confined to this room at the moment.
Everyone was in there, save those tending to Doreah.
She wasn't blind to the stares of the three men, who watched the babe curiously. In the end, it was Prince Oberyn who broke the silence.
"She has Targaryen blood," he stated. It wasn't a question.
She and Jon exchanged a look, but he only blinked, leaving it up to her. What use was there in hiding it now?
"She does," Dany admitted. "My brother's daughter."
"A bastard, then."
Jon's face twisted into a scowl. "It does not make her any less one of us, Prince."
"I did not say that," he replied calmly. "I have a reputation, you know. I have sired eight bastard daughters and I have claimed them all as mine. I raised them. Taught them to fight, gave them the freedom to choose if they wished to wed or not. They are mine in all the ways that matter, bastards or true born."
Dany felt herself relax somewhat. They wouldn't tell them yet that they planned to legitimize Visenya. Well, Jon had already done so the moment the babe was born, but it wasn't on paper yet. Whenever they got around doing that.
"What is her name, Your Grace?" Barristan asked gently.
"Visenya," Jon answered tiredly.
"A strong name for a strong girl."
Dany sighed. She looked amongst the three men, all of whom appeared as weary as her. "Why are you three here? Why seek us out?"
"Jaime and I intended to serve you," Barristan answered. "It is true I bent the knee to Robert after my King fell at the Trident. I chose to live. But when I heard His Grace had flown to Essos and protected you, I couldn't ignore my old loyalties any longer."
Jon frowned. "Your King died in King's Landing."
"No," Barristan shook his head and looked at Jon meaningfully. "Rhaegar—your father—intended to depose Aerys after he had put an end to Robert's Rebellion. He told us the realm had suffered enough under the rule of your grandfather. All the Kingsguard who fought with him that day at the Trident swore loyalty to him. He was my King in the end. Not Aerys."
Dany's eyes flashed over to Jaime. "Did you know about this?"
"Rhaegar left me in the capital since Aerys had demanded I stay," Jaime answered. "He never asked I bend the knee to him—it would have gotten us both killed—but he told me he intended to change many things when the rebellion was put down. In the end…well, none of it mattered in the end."
She was quiet for a moment. "You say you came to serve my mother's child. Why?"
Jaime had his legs pulled up to his chest, drumming his fingers on the floor beside him. "Your mother was the most wonderful woman I have ever known. From the time Aerys took me as a Kingsguard and assigned me to her—so I could learn to defend royalty, or so he claimed—she was special. She was beautiful and graceful, kind and witty. When she was away from the Mad King, sometimes she would even smile."
His eyes fell away from the Princess. "Of course, I only met her after she'd been at Aerys' mercy for decades. She was never as fierce as you are. She was a dragon whose fire had been snuffed out."
Dany felt a lump rise in her throat. Her mother had deserved more than the life she'd been forced into—a life married to her brother, who spiraled into insanity and abused her in the worst ways possible.
"Whatever your misgivings about Ser Jaime, Princess Daenerys," Ser Barristan spoke again, his voice gruff, but gentle. "His loyalty to your mother was beyond question. During his time as her guard, he discovered a plot against her by the Faith. Several leaders in the Sept of Baelor had been slipping poisons into her food and drink over the years, to ensure she couldn't give birth to another healthy child after Rhaegar was born. Jaime caught one of them in the act. I remember that day well—he was not particularly gentle with the perpetrator."
It felt like the ground had fallen out beneath her. Someone had been poisoning her mother?
She remembered the names of the siblings she had lost, the ones who had been stillborn or died so soon after they came into the world, and felt nausea building in her stomach.
"Why?" Jon choked out.
"The Faith and the Targaryen dynasty were always on uneasy ground with each other," Barristan admitted. "The Targaryens answer to neither gods nor men. The practice of wedding brother to sister was taboo to the Seven. I cannot say for certain why they chose to poison Rhaella, but given that your family had been so greatly reduced in number over those recent years…it is possible they sought to bring an end to a line of so-called heretics."
She glanced at Ser Jorah, silently asking for confirmation. Though he seemed reluctant to add truth to anything their…prisoners had to say, he gave her a tight nod. He could believe that.
"What happened to the men responsible for the plot?" Jon demanded, his voice hard.
"I was discovered throttling the man who I caught trying to poison Rhaella," Jaime confessed. "By the King, Ser Barristan, and several other Kingsguard. When I told the King what I'd discovered, well—he was enraged. Pycelle told him what the poison was meant to do and then Aerys tortured the traitor. Got names out of him. He tortured and executed many septons who were named, and many more he believed to be traitors anyways."
Dany choked out a weak laugh, garnering the attention of the others. "Viserys always made King's Landing, the Red Keep, and the Iron Throne to be this…illustrious seat of power. A splendid city that was the crown jewel of our forebears. The more I hear about it, the more it sounds like the worst place imaginable. What sort of men poison babes in their mother's womb?"
"Monsters," Jorah answered. "Not men."
"Then it seems the Red Keep is full of monsters."
The fact that Barristan, Jaime, and Oberyn had anything to say about that didn't reassure her at all. She swallowed hard, steeling herself, and glanced at the Red Viper.
"Why did you come? Aside from killing my intended?"
Oberyn blinked at her in surprise. "Intended?"
"Jon and I intend to be wed sometime soon," she told him. "But that is truly none of your business. Was your sole purpose in coming here to take his head?"
The Red Viper was quiet for a moment. "It is true I came to avenge what I believed to be a slight against my dead nephew's name. To strike down a pretender who dared to claim such a thing for his own gain. But I meant to offer you asylum afterwards, if you were interested."
"Asylum where? Dorne?"
"Possibly," Oberyn shrugged, looking somewhat contrite. "In-truth, I came here somewhat rashly and of my own accord. I certainly did not bother to tell my brother Doran, the fool."
"Nonetheless, it was a poorly thought-out plan," she said stiffly.
"I have never been known for being particularly cautious," he admitted. "One of my faults, I am aware. But I have helped you hide before."
Dany frowned. "How so?"
"I came here once. To this very house, when you were but a little girl. I gave Ser Willem resources to remain hidden here. We, along with the Sealord of Braavos, discussed a plan to betroth your brother to Princess Arianne Martell in exchange for Dorne's help in reclaiming the Iron Throne from House Baratheon. We would help your family depose Robert Baratheon, and you would help us destroy House Lannister to claim vengeance for the death of my sister and her children."
She froze. "I never heard of this plan."
"I do not believe Viserys was aware of it. Ser Willem's death threw everything into chaos. By the time we learned of his demise, the two of you had vanished."
"And you never bothered to send anyone to come and find us, I see."
"Doran sent men to seek you out," Oberyn confessed quietly. "Obviously, they failed."
"Obviously."
"Dorne is still your ally, Princess."
"Are they? And will they ally with Jon?"
The Viper glanced at her lover, and pursed his lips. "Doran would not support Rhaegar's bastard son, no."
"Not a bastard," Daenerys told him coldly. "Rhaegar married Lyanna Stark in Dorne. Jon—Jaehaerys is a true born son of House Targaryen."
Oberyn's eyes widened as he studied Jon with renewed interest, as did Jorah, Jaime, and Barristan. The Prince seemed to consider that before he sighed. "Even so, my brother is a fool in his own right. He won't support him—a boy who represents Rhaegar's betrayal of Elia."
"I did not ask to be born under such circumstances, Prince Oberyn," Jon pointed out tightly.
"I am aware. I can even accept that you only took Aegon's name to defend your family. It's true that Robert and the Lannisters would have slaughtered House Stark for such a betrayal. But it won't change what your birth represents to many people, Jaehaerys."
"Then an alliance would be pointless," Daenerys told him. "If they will not support Jon along with me, there is no reason to talk about such a thing."
"Princess," Jorah said hesitantly. "The Dornish would be powerful allies. Perhaps we can still…"
She held a hand up to silence him and looked at the three men. "Let me make sure you understand something. Jon and I will stand together wherever we go, regardless of what people think of it. Be that here, elsewhere in Essos, or in Westeros, I care not. He is mine as I am his, even if we are not yet married."
"With all due respect, Princess, you have known him for less than a year," Oberyn pointed out. "I know I am in no position to argue such a thing, but that is a lot to claim for how short a time you have been allied."
Dany glanced at Jon, exchanging a long look with him. He nodded at last. "They've already seen me pull the dragon eggs out of the fire. They know how strong the magic in our blood is."
Jaime frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"
She looked over to little Visenya, who was being rocked by the wet-nurse now to sleep. "Have you ever heard of Dragon Dreams, Ser Jaime?"
"No."
"They are prophetic dreams given to those with the blood of House Targaryen. Not all of us have them, but it started with Daenys the Dreamer, who came to Dragonstone from Old Valyria with her father. She dreamed of the Doom some years before it took place and saved our House from extinction."
Barristan tilted his head. "Rhaegar used to have dreams like that. Nothing quite so dramatic, but he dreamt of a dragon who gave him a prophecy in the later years of his life. He told me about it once. What did it say again…"
"'Father and mother, and quickened by fire'?" Jon said softly. Barristan jolted, face going white.
"How do you—"
"Jon and I have Dragon Dreams rather often," Dany confessed. "We dreamed of each other and Frostfyre, his dragon, from the time we were little children. I was four namedays old, in this house, when I met him. I have known him longer than anyone else now that Viserys is dead."
The room fell silent, save for the crackling of the flames.
"Neither of us really know why we dream the way we do," Jon admitted. "Maester Aemon from Castle Black—Aemon Targaryen—he taught me as much about our House as he could before I left. I don't know if it's because Frostfyre was born with me, or if Daenerys and I just have more powerful magic in our blood than the Targaryens that came before us, but we have Dragon Dreams more than anyone else I am aware of."
"Mmm. It's the reason Jon was able to get to me with his dragon," Dany said. "We dreamed of each other some time before I was to be sold to Khal Drogo. I told him what would happen to me. He rushed to his dragon, climbed upon her back, and flew halfway across the world to stop the wedding. He scorched the Dothraki khalasar to protect me. A boy of four-and-ten."
She looked at Oberyn, Jaime, and Barristan. "Jon is the most loyal friend I have ever had. No one else from Westeros chose to risk their lives to come and protect me. None of you would have, do not deny it. But he did. He gave up any and all safety he could have kept in the North to keep me safe."
Her gaze fell back to the Red Viper. "So if your brother tells you he will support me but not Jon, you will politely inform him that he can fuck off to the seven hells for all I care."
Oberyn snorted, not even hiding his smirk. "I think I might do that, if only to see the look on his face, Princess."
Jon's lips rose into a slight smile, but it quickly faded. "Well, you three will not die by our hand—for now, at least. I'm grateful I won't have to execute you today. I am going to be rather busy."
Dany frowned. "Doing what?"
"I need to meet with the Sealord of Braavos," he groaned. "Frostfyre landed in the middle of the city, even if she didn't hurt anyone. I must apologize and ensure him we are not a threat."
"She was protecting us."
"He doesn't know that, and I do not want him sending soldiers around the city to arrest us at first sight," Jon muttered. He stood up and rubbed his face. "I need to clean myself up before I meet with him."
He studied the three men. "…Ser Jorah and Ser Jaime will remain here. I want Prince Oberyn and Ser Barristan to come with me."
"Your Grace," Jorah started to protest.
"We are outnumbered," Jon pointed out. "I can defend myself, but you are the only sword I have to my name that I trust right now, Ser Jorah. You will defend Princess Daenerys and Visenya to your dying breath. Is that understood?"
The Knight sighed and dipped his head. "It is, Your Grace."
"Good."
"Why am I coming?" Oberyn asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Because you know the Sealord of Braavos," Jon listed off. "Because you started the fight that drew Frostfyre to the city in the first place. And because I will kick you out of this house if you don't."
"I could find a brothel to stay at instead."
Jon did not look amused. Oberyn let out a long-suffering sigh. "Very well, Jaehaerys."
"Your Grace," Jorah reminded him tightly.
"He has not pledged anything to me, Ser Jorah," Jon reminded him, striding out of the room so he could clean up. "I am not his King. Leave it alone."
The Dornish Prince looked up at Ser Jorah, smirking slightly. "Do you have food here? I am rather hungry."
Jorah looked ready to take Oberyn's head and be done with it, but with a glance from Daenerys, he just growled and made his way to the kitchen.
Ned's legs felt like they wanted to fall off of his body, but he did his best to ignore the pain.
They'd been riding hard for Winterfell now that the ravens had been sent. If they rode any harder, the horses would probably die, but time could not be wasted. Not with Euron Greyjoy slowly making his way North. Not with the Lannisters coming for his head.
Sansa certainly had not been pleased about any of this, but by now, she was so tired she didn't have the energy to complain anymore. He supposed that was a blessing in its own way. She was going to toughen up on this trip a little, at least. He hoped.
They made camp quickly and settled down to eat and rest, all of them exhausted. The horses were all lying down as well, desperate for sleep, and the dire wolves were nestled close to their masters. Nymeria, in Arya's absence, had chosen to settle down with Ghost near Ned.
Lord Manderly leaned against a tree, groaning. "Lord Stark, if I may speak freely?"
"Yes?"
"You are a slave driver, My Lord."
Ned snorted. "I would not push this pace if it were not absolutely necessary."
"These are my best horses, meant to run long and hard," Manderly told him, chuckling. "I have never seen them so tired."
"They are magnificent animals," he admitted.
They all fell into a companionable silence, mostly because they were too tired to do a lot of talking. Sansa was half-asleep on Lady when the dire wolf's head suddenly rose, sniffing the air.
Ghost and Nymeria matched her a moment later. Ned only blinked at them, but then froze when he heard a thunderous howl fill the woods.
"What is the name of the gods?" Manderly struggled to his feet, as did Ned and the Knights who came to guard them.
The dire wolves rose, leaping to their feet with sudden energy, and returned their own howls. Sansa rushed over to him and he wrapped an arm around his daughter to keep her close. "What are they doing, father?"
"I suppose we'll find out in a moment," he muttered. Ned unsheathed his sword, as did the Knights and Manderly when they heard another howl, closer than before. The dire wolves were wagging their tails, yipping excitedly.
The horses struggled to get up, neighing with alarm. Two of Manderly's Knights rushed over to calm them down.
Ned heard twigs cracking and bushes rustling in the darkness not far away. He watched as a great shape loomed out of the shadows. Piercing yellow eyes locked onto him and he felt the breath leave his lungs.
It was a dire wolf—fully grown, black as night, and nearly as big as their horses. The beast padded into the clearing they'd chosen to make camp in, eyes shifting around to study the paling men.
Before anyone could do anything, Ghost, Lady, and Nymeria yipped and rushed over to the huge wolf, sniffing and licking and bouncing around it. The great wolf lowered its snout, snorting and briefly growling so they all fell to their backs and rolled onto their bellies in a show of submission.
"Father…" Sansa whispered hoarsely. Her face was white, stunned by the sheer size of the predator before her.
"Easy," Ned whispered back, slowly lifting a hand to order Lord Manderly and the Knights to lower their weapons. "I don't think it means to harm us."
The black wolf, satisfied with the submission of the pups, lifted its huge head to stare at Ned. It took a few steps towards him, shoulders rolling with muscle, and stopped so it could look at him.
Gods, but he was barely any taller than it was when it lifted its head high. Ned wasn't a short man by any means, but the dire wolf before him was gigantic.
He held his hand up, offering it to the wolf, and the beast lowered its snout to sniff him curiously. But it never took its eyes away from his.
At last, it pushed its muzzle into his hand, rubbing against his hand. It was strong—full of warmth and life, though it bore a few old scars. Ned looked over the beast and then to the younger dire wolves, who were still bounding around the adult with joy.
Their mother was dead, but was this perhaps the father that had been missing? Dire wolves lived in packs just as regular wolves did. Perhaps he'd been seeking his mate and pups out all this time…
Ned pushed his hand past the muzzle of the predator, running his fingers through the thick, black fur. The beast rumbled, pleased, and pressed its nose to his cheek. Its tongue licked him gently.
"You are one of us," Ned whispered to the wolf, whose eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence. "Aren't you?"
The wolf threw his head back and howled, long and powerful, and the three pups mirrored their sire to howl with him. Ned couldn't help but smile as the great beast lay on the ground, content to rest while his pups rubbed against his thick fur, still yipping joyfully.
Their pack was nearly whole again. When Jon returned—Ned had to believe Arya would find him in time and bring him back to Westeros—the pack would be united in-full, stronger than ever.
Notes:
Lot of dialogue in this chapter, I know. Just steadily pushing the plot forward. We'll meet the Sealord of Braavos in the next chapter, and get to Arya and Jon's reunion.
As ever, please review! Reviews are my lifeblood, and I am unashamedly hungry for any and all feedback!
Thanks for reading!