PART IV: Checkmate

The Tower of the Hand

301 AC

It was now almost an hour later, and everyone who was in the know, had arrived in Jon's office, each of them having taken a seat around the long dinner table.

His mother, along with Robb and Starag had decidedly sat on Jon's left. Margaery elected to remain by his side, while Garlan sat opposite of him. The Queen of Thorns, having already spoken her piece to Jon in private, wasn't there. Then there was Doran Martell, who sat on Garlan's left, and Daenerys, who was at the far end of the table.

Jon had noticed the tension coming particularly from his mother, who still could not bring herself to look directly at Starag. The memory of what he'd seen in the halls earlier had stung him, but he decided to pay it no mind. Instead, he looked around the table at those gathered and gently squeezed Margaery's hand.

Blessedly, she tugged his hand back.

"I thank you all for coming here…" he said with an unexpected sense of formality. "All of you likely understand how things are…" He decided to simply get it out of the way. "Seeing as there is no clear heir, I intend to take the throne."

There were looks of surprise coming from all around the table, except from Starag, who likely had a good understanding of what the meeting had been about in the first place. Daenerys too, seemed unmoved, but she hadn't really understood the full view of his situation.

Before any of them could say a word, he decided to drop the bomb. "...but not as Jaehaerys Targaryen."

If anyone had been surprised, they were now very clearly shocked. Especially Doran and Garlan. Even Margaery from her seat beside him had looked over at him with a puzzled expression. Starag as well had sat back in his seat. He'd not been expecting things to go this way.

His mother seemed to be reflecting, as her purple eyes were misty and sorrowful. Meanwhile, Daenerys had been holding her breath. She was the most confused out of everyone there.

Robb had sat forward. "So… you want to take the throne, but not without revealing your heritage? Your bloodline?" He asked, bewildered. "Jon, you know you're my brother. I don't care if you want to take the Targaryen name. But even you have to admit that you alone have the strongest claim here out of everyone."

"I do," Jon agreed. "But if I reveal everything, what will they say about Father? Even behind our backs? And how could the kingdoms trust us after Baelor's Sept? What's to stop them from slandering us? From saying that it was us all along?"

"Let them say whatever they like!" It was Daenerys this time. She sat forward, pleading in her violet eyes. "What can they do? We're dragons, Jae. We have dragons!"

"No!" Jon hammered his fist against the table. Daenerys jolted back as if she'd been slapped. "I will not hold them hostage. We're supposed to be better, aunt. Better than those who came before us."

"Jon's right," Starag said. "Revealing the truth would only open up more questions. And it's not like we've done ourselves any favors with the Arryns, Lannisters, and Tullys. They hate each other, but they'll hate us much more. Might even be willing to start a civil war over it."

Daenerys scoffed. "And what exactly can they do against five dragons, Lord Mormont?"

"Nothing," the reply came easily. "But it wouldn't exactly be setting the right image. Burning three out of seven kingdoms would only mean more resistance, only enticing others to fight against us. We want these people, most of them at least, on our side." said Starag. "This world is a lot bigger than we think it is. And not all of our enemies are here in Westeros. Varys and his allies have proved that ten times over by now. Westeros must stand united."

Doran Martell, as patient as ever, gently tapped his cane against the stone floor. "I believe we are getting ahead of ourselves…" He said. "Though I agree with your analysis, Lord Mormont, I must also admit that I too find the likelihood of most being in favor of a Stark King rather…" He paused selectively. "...dubious, at best. Especially in light of the fact that they do not worship the Faith of the Seven. Would the rest of the continent take to a king who worships trees?"

Starag, as faithful to Jon as ever, had still kept up. "He'll be married to Margaery. That should be enough for them. The Tyrells practice the Faith. And I daresay no other lord at court has held a more sterling reputation than Ned himself. House Stark is respected by everyone, even if they've got a few minor gripes." He looked at Jon then. "If we pitch it the right way, I believe they'd wholeheartedly follow a Stark King."

"What's to stop them from picking one of the other claimants then?" asked Daenerys. "If this… Storm boy… has a supposedly better claim to the throne, why not pick him? Or these Lannister children for that matter?"

It was Margaery who spoke up from Jon's side. "Only a king can legitimize a bastard. Edric Storm would only be a serious candidate if his last name were Baratheon, yet there's no king present who can actually legitimize him. You see the predicament?" She asked.

Daenerys nodded in understanding, silently asking Margaery to continue.

"And it's only Lord Tywin who is willing to back up the claim that his grandchildren have the throne. Most actually believe what Lord Arryn and his sister are claiming about them not having been sired by Robert." Said Margaery. "With Tommen and Edric both out of the equation, there's not really anything stopping us. And perhaps… with how long the Starks have historically held the North, it might be better this way."

She paused and then looked at Jon. Her brown eyes had softened, and she squeezed his hand again. "If you believe taking the throne as a Stark is the best course, then I'm right behind you. Always. Even if we go down together."

I love you, you know that? Jon decided he would give this girl as many of his children as she wanted. He squeezed her palm affectionately and looked back around the table. "I've already thought this through. There are a few… discrepancies… but I'm sure we can cover them up."

Margaery already knew what he was talking about. She looked at Daenerys then. "They'll want to know why you're not pressing your claim."

Jon's aunt had raised her eyebrows at that. She opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it. "They won't know he's my nephew…"

"Exactly," said Margaery. "And the dragons that the lords do know about belong to you. They'll certainly ask why you haven't pushed your claim, or why you haven't even taken the throne yet if no one else can."

The room fell silent then. Jon himself had thought about this one particular factor incessantly. If publicly speaking, Jon was going to take the throne as a Stark, and Daenerys Targaryen completely ceded all blood-rites to it…

It would definitely look strange to anyone outside of the room. A girl with the power to decide the fate of entire kingdoms, simply not using it at all? Why? For what purpose? Were the Starks somehow in league with the Targaryens? Hadn't Daenerys a better claim than the Starks in the first place?

"I'll handle that," Starag said suddenly. Everyone in the room looked directly at him. "They'll get the truth. Not about Jon, but about Rhaenys."

Doran immediately narrowed his eyes at Starag. "You would endanger my niece? And your own children?" He asked angrily. "You cannot be serious!"

"But I am," Starag matched the Prince of Dorne's glare. "It's a better excuse than nothing at all. I'll take the heat. No one will suspect Jon of anything. Lady Daenerys will support House Stark because her only blood relatives are subservient to House Stark. She'll swear her vows and House Targaryen will become a permanent vassal in both the North and the Crownlands. If anyone doubts my story, you and Jaime can back it up."

Doran seemed to understand, though he was no less angered. "I cannot help but point out that the lords will still suspect House Stark of treason. For acknowledging one of their vassals marrying a Targaryen while Robert was still king."

"House Stark never knew Lady Mormont was a Targaryen. I deliberately kept the truth from them by claiming she was Oberyn's bastard daughter." Starag intoned with a knowing smile. "They're only just finding out now." He looked across at Jon and then Robb at his side. "And since the Starks are so forgiving, as they've been in the past few weeks to various lords from the Crownlands who knowingly betrayed Robert, they'll pardon me in recompense for the services I've done for both them and the North. Right?"

Both Jon and Robb shared the same knowing grin. "Right." They both said at the same time.

Starag continued. "Besides, me revealing the dragon in my backyard will only lend credence to the story of me shooting down Aegon at the King's Gate. It'll sound more believable if I've had experience with the beasts firsthand."

"What if they ask about your heirs, then?" Doran inquired further.

"House Mormont will always be subservient to House Stark," Starag said firmly. "Anyone of my line, including my own bloody children and their children and so on. They could have a fleet of dragons and own half the North and the Riverlands for all I care. Doesn't matter. They'll still bend the knee to the Starks." He leaned forward in his seat. "If we do it this way, we can make it work, Doran. Trust me."

The Prince of Dorne had pinched the bridge of his nose in contemplation. He let out a sharp sigh. "This is madness…" He said. "But you have protected Rhaenys well. If you can continue to do so, then you have my blessing."

"Done," Starag said easily. He looked at Jon then. "I'll take the fall for this." He said, then looking at Daenerys. "I convinced you to not take the throne as I've sworn vows to House Stark to serve as their bannerman. You decided that supporting the Starks as well was in the best interests of your kin. That's the story."

"Right," Said Daenerys. She understood where he was going with this. "I'll publicly declare for House Stark when the council is in session. After we've sorted through the claims. Then you can come forth and explain everything?" She asked, though her uncertainty disappeared when Starag nodded in agreement.

Jon took it from there. "Then both Robb and I will publicly pardon you before I call for a vote." He summarized, looking around the table. "Are there any objections to this plan?"

No one had spoken up. Garlan shook his head outright.

It wasn't a perfect plan. By all means, to the most astute lords, the Stark-Martell-Tyrell-Targaryen complex would be apparent. And they'd smell something foul, but certainly not deadly. They wouldn't say anything about it. What change could they realistically make, other than acquiring new enemies? And for what benign purpose? It would ultimately be smarter to align with House Stark in their case.

But most lords wouldn't think too deeply into it. They'd see who was in charge, look at who stood behind him willing to back up his claim and think of what they stood to gain. Everyone respected House Stark. Moreover, everyone knew of how the North had prospered under Eddard Stark's rule. They'd want the same for themselves.

Jon knew it was settled. He knew instinctively that everything was lined up, yet he couldn't stomach the nervousness he felt. The tension in his gut at taking up the throne in front of all those people…

This is real. It's happening, he thought to himself. He'd actually get the chance to implement those changes he'd imagined moons ago. To make a positive difference in the lives of those who lived under him, just as he had at Queenscrown.

Only now, it would be on a significantly larger scale.

It was a challenge, a test. A responsibility.

And it wasn't something that Jon was going to pass up.

The Great Hall within the Red Keep was the second-largest hall in the Seven Kingdoms.

The first was the Hall of a Hundred Hearths in Harrenhal. Yet as Harrenhal was currently in its state of disrepair, Jon had decided that the Red Keep was better suited, and perhaps more appropriate for the task at hand.

Over a thousand men could be seated in the throne room alone, which made it slightly amusing to him as he knew only around three hundred or so lords and ladies had gathered in the city so far, with dozens arriving each day within the last few weeks alone. More were likely on their way, but so far, Jon decided this number was enough. It had been the same case for previous Great Councils, as Maesters often recorded that by the time heirs had already been chosen, lords from all over the Seven Kingdoms were still arriving, hoping to get their own vote in.

Lords Paramount would be seated by the foot of the Iron Throne itself, meanwhile, their vassals and bannermen would remain in their own segments throughout the great hall itself. Those within the same kingdom had stayed with their kin. The Westerlords naturally gravitated to other Westerlords, and it had been the same with the Riverlords, those from the Crownlands, the North, and so on. Jon was thankful that the lords from each kingdom had decidedly organized themselves, though he still made sure to arrange seating for them, as well as food and drink to make themselves comfortable.

Despite his precautions, though, there was still tension about. Particularly between the Lords of the Vale, and those belonging to the Westerlands. It was plain to see when Jon had walked into the throne room, with both Ghost and Lya at his heels, along with two Stark men-at-arms.

As he walked towards the gathered crowd of men and women, those closest to him had taken immediate notice of the direwolves on either side of him and had a clear path for him. A good number of them had even bowed, even if they weren't from the North.

"Lord Stark,"

"An honor, Lord Stark."

"Apologies, Lord Stark. Please, allow me!"

"My deepest respects for your loss, Lord Stark. Your father was a good man."

Jon nearly shook his head at the last platitude, said by some Westerlord in passing. As if you ever knew him.

Out of the crowd, he'd immediately set eyes on Lord Yohn Royce, who had so pleasantly hosted him moons ago at Runestone. The older man had come to the capital with his eldest son, Andar, as Jon recalled. He immediately felt more comfortable being around this gathering of lords, as he thought of the still-warm memories of his short time with House Royce.

He made his way to the main dais where the rest of the Lord's Paramount would be seated in a sort of half-circle. Already, Lord Tywin had been sitting there, along with his brother Ser Kevan Lannister, on the right end. Directly across from them was Lord Robert Arryn, and his mother, Lady Catelyn, both of whom represented the Vale. Meanwhile next to Lord Arryn was his sister, Lady Sansa, who represented the Riverlands. On her left was the obviously shy black-haired and blue-eyed Edric Storm, who sat with the Castellan of Storm's End, Ser Cortnay Penrose. The boy likely felt as out of place at this gathering as he looked, as he kept occasionally tugging on his large ears, probably as a nervous tick. After Edric Storm, came Robb's seat, where he currently sat alone save for the large direwolf next to him, Grey Wind, who was likely the main cause of the young Edric Storm's agitation. Jon's own seat was at the head of the dais, more or less in the center next to Robb's. Yet it was spaced apart just enough to imply a separate authority, as Jon still maintained the position of King's Hand and Regent. Further on what would be Jon's left side came Doran Martell and his daughter, Arianne. After her came Lord Mace Tyrell along with his mother Lady Olenna, and Garlan. And after them, the order arrived back at the Lannisters.

Daenerys was also present, though she sat alone. She represented the newly reconstituted House Targaryen, which had more or less regained both its status as a Great House and its ancestral seat of Dragonstone. These were restored to her under the pretext that she wished to rejoin the Seven Kingdoms peacefully. Nobody had objected to this, nor her having a vote, as she was the only Lady Paramount to have three live and very dangerous dragons. Though Jon could tell that many of the lords and ladies in the hall were rather cautious about her presence.

Also sitting among them were Lord Baelor Hightower and his younger brother, Ser Garth. Both men who Jon hadn't known personally himself, but who he had met as a result of his connection to Starag, who enjoyed a well-maintained relationship with House Hightower in spite of the failed marriage between his brother and Lord Baelor's sister, Lynesse. The Hightowers themselves were a Great House, despite being sworn to House Tyrell, and Jon had wanted them to get their own seat. And, much to Jon's surprise, they seemed to be in full support of his own command over the capital.

And finally, though with no actual vote himself, there was the High Sparrow. He sat only on the Great Council as the chief representative of the Faith of the Seven, as the previous High Septon had been killed in the explosion at Baelor's Sept. As such, the High Sparrow had taken up the position, and, according to Jon's own sources, had quickly become popular among the righteous within the city. Even on this occasion, he did not wear rich robes, but a plain white tunic that extended to his bare feet. He certainly maintained a more clean appearance than the last time he and Jon had met. This time though, the High Sparrow had given Jon a pleasant smile and bowed his head out of respect.

Robb smiled upon seeing him. Jon smiled back. He marched up the steps to the dais and began making his way to his seat.

He knew that the most powerful lords and ladies in the Seven Kingdoms were watching him. Jon even intercepted a warm smile from Lady Catelyn Arryn, along with a respectful nod from Lord Tywin. His own people had each given him respective signals. Garlan gave him a wink, meanwhile, Daenerys quirked her lips into a half-smirk. Doran was cool and collected, though he dipped his head in acknowledgment.

With each step, Jon could hear the voices of the various other lords grow quieter and quieter, could hear them still their feet and take their seats. And as he grew closer to that blasted chair, his heart managed to pound harder and harder against his chest.

By the time Jon had faced the wide marble hall before him, most of the lords had quietened completely, with only a few pairs speaking to each other here and there.

It's now or never, he thought to himself

"Lords and Ladies of Westeros," He announced sharply, raising his voice so that all within the throne room could hear him. "Before we begin, I would like to address the presence of Lady Daenerys. She is representing House Targaryen and has expressed her desire to rejoin Westeros peacefully. This would mean that House Targaryen will reclaim its ancestral seat of Dragonstone, as well as its status as a Great House, and will serve as a vassal in the Crownlands. As thanks for her aid in defeating the Pretender, I see no reason to refuse her request. She has also agreed to swear her allegiance to whoever ascends the throne. Therefore, she has been allowed on this council. Are there any objections to her presence?"

No answer. Nobody wanted to anger the dragon.

Jon continued. "Well then. You have been summoned here so that we all might determine a suitable heir to the throne, and as a result, the future of Westeros itself." He said. "Each of you is represented by your liege or Lord Paramount. However, when the vote is finally called for, you will be free to make your own choice. Once everyone has voted for a specific candidate, we shall count them and find out who will sit on the throne. Then, and only then, will this council be over." Jon turned to the Lord's Paramount. "Do any of you have questions before we begin?"

No one answered him. Good.

"In that case, we shall begin." Jon took his seat at the head of the council. Meanwhile, every other lord and lady inside the Great Hall had already finished sitting in their own sections, each specifically segmented off to each respective kingdom.

He nodded first to Robert Arryn's corner. "Lord Arryn and Lady Tully have brought forth the claim of Edric Storm, as he is the baseborn son of our late King Robert. I must reassure the court that not even I can legitimize a king's bastard. That responsibility lies alone with the King, who we just so happen to be deprived of." He paused. "As such, Edric Storm cannot put forth his claim."

Robert Arryn seemed peeved as if he was tired of Jon's own interference in his plans. Still, Jon elected to be fair. "Likewise," He said, then looking at Tywin. "Lord Tywin, you have put forth the claim of your grandson, Tommen. According to you, he is the legitimate son of our late King Robert. Yet, there is much doubt surrounding this claim. Though it is true that your family was innocent regarding the murders of both Lord Jon Arryn and King Robert, there are still accusations that the Queen's children were not Robert's, but a close cousin of hers. If these accusations prove to be true, both Myrcella and Tommen will be removed from the line of succession by default."

"How convenient." Said Tywin, with a stone-cold glare pointed directly at Robert Arryn.

Lord Arryn was unmoved by the Old Lion's stare. "Your family has been leeching off of House Baratheon ever since the end of the Rebellion. It does not surprise me that your daughter broke her marriage vows and betrayed her own husband."

"Tell me, boy. What proof do you have other than conjecture? Your aunt certainly hadn't convinced Lord Stark when he was still alive. What makes you so certain in your claims? Why not share it with the rest of us?"

Robert Arryn seemed more visibly angry than before. He rose from his seat and took the floor. "Lords and Ladies of Westeros, when you look at your children, do you not see yourselves? Your… likeness? When I look at my sister, I see my mother's coloring. I see her eyes. I see her pale skin. It was much the same with myself and my father. It is the same with the rest of us gathered here today."

He's a good talker, I'll give him that, thought Jon.

"It came as a shock to me more than anyone else when I found out that the children of our late King Robert were not only not sired by him, but were the products of incest by the Queen and a Lannister cousin. I know not why she chose to lay with one of her kin rather than her husband, but I do know that her children look absolutely nothing like our dearly departed liege." Robert Arryn paused for greater effect. "Whereas Edric Storm and those among our late King's baseborn children carry his likeness. Black of hair. Blue eyes. Healthy builds. In fact," he said. "One of Robert's baseborn daughters serves in my own household in the Vale. Mya Stone is her name. She was taken in by my father. She's practically the spitting image of her own sire. Much like Edric Storm is here and now. Is there a man here who would deny this?"

The room was silent. Nobody spoke up. There were many harsh glares within the crowd being directed at Tywin Lannister.

No one would speak against House Arryn's honorable reputation. Robert Arryn had also brought along his own private army to the capital as well.

"Yet… look at both Myrcella and Tommen Waters. Golden crowns just like their mother, and both have green eyes and slight builds." Robert Arryn said. "Does this not prove that they are not Robert's? That there is not a drop of Baratheon blood in their veins? I believe so. They cannot be taken seriously. And I instead motion a vote to withdraw them from candidacy effective immediately."

It was then that Tywin Lannister stood leaning on his cane. His glare was as cold as iron. "So you bring nothing but descriptions and conjecture. Not even a single witness. You disappoint me, Lord Arryn." The Old Lion looked at Jon. "Lord Stark, I ask that you please tell this laughable excuse for a lord to get to the point."

Jon looked impassively at Robert Arryn. "What more evidence do you have, Lord Arryn?"

The Lord of the Vale was unperturbed. He motioned off to the sides of the great chamber. "Bring the girl." He said.

Two Valemen came forth. With them was a girl in a servant's plain dress. Jon vaguely remembered her being one of the Queen's handmaids.

The guards brought her closer to the center of the room. The girl's shyness was obvious enough, as she was practically ready to bolt for the exit once she noticed everyone's eyes directly on her. She stopped in the middle of the half-circle, facing Jon.

"This girl," Lord Arryn began, "Was one of Queen Cersei's handmaids. She has more than a few scandalous stories to share about our late Queen." He gave the girl a gentle smile. "Please, share with us now what you told me."

The girl kneaded her hands together and looked back at Jon. She was a plain-looking girl by all means, but perhaps that was why the Queen had kept her in her service for so long. "We-" She started. "We weren't supposed to talk about it, m'lord. The Queen-she forbade us to. Said that she'd have us drawn and quartered if we spoke a whisper to anyone. And if the King found out, then she'd-" The girl brought her hand to her mouth.

Robert Arryn placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "She can't harm you here." He said. "Please, continue."

She nodded. "I-I… When the King would go hunting out in the Kingswood, she'd always entertain a man from the Westerlands. I don't know his name, but he looked like one of her cousins. Gold hair and green eyes and th' like."

"If you were to see him again, would you recognize him?" Asked Robert Arryn.

"Yes, m'lord." said the girl.

The Lord of the Vale then turned to Jon. "Lord Stark, I believe I have found the suspect, and I have already taken him into custody. May I show him before the court?"

Jon could feel the tension in the hall. Everyone was itching to see what would happen next. From the rowdiest Northman to the surliest Dornishman. He nodded his head, giving his ascent.

On Robert Arryn's signal, two more guardsmen had shuffled out from the side of the Great Hall. Marching between them in chains was another man who looked rather malnourished and unkempt. His long strands of stringy blonde hair, once golden, were more like white wisps. His muscles, once well-maintained with food and regular exercise, were weakened by the passage of time in a cell. Dirt stains marked his clothes and his skin, showing that he'd not taken well to his imprisonment. He was thrust about ten feet apart from the handmaid, with guardsmen on either side of him.

By all means, Jon was likely looking at a Lannister. Though he certainly was not of the main line, he must've grown up either in Lannisport or in Casterly Rock.

Lord Tywin seemed to recognize the man, as he stood to his feet. "What is the meaning of this, boy? Was my own son not enough? The gall."

Robert Arryn ignored Tywin in front of everyone. He asked the girl, "Is this the man who you saw in the Queen's bedchambers?"

The girl's face went white as she recognized the unnamed Lannister. She nodded quickly, confirming Lord Arryn's accusations, and causing more than a few gasps and hushed conversations from the audience.

"And when did you first see this man?"

"Must be years ago now," said the girl. "I think… shortly after King Robert married the Queen."

More gasps. Jon simply pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache. "I believe that is enough," He said. "Lord Arryn, you have made your case and presented your witnesses. Lord Tywin, if you have anything to say, then say it now."

Tywin Lannister, however, seemed to be completely unmoved by the presentation. "Your father would be disappointed, Lord Arryn. Not even he would be so quick to believe the words of an easily bought strumpet." He glanced around the chamber. "What evidence has been shown to us today is pitiful, and not even worthy of further investigation. How much did you pay this girl to sell out her own queen, hmmm?"

No response came from Robert Arryn. Yet he didn't seem too afraid as he'd already said what he wanted to say. He nodded to the guards to take the chained Westerlord and the handmaid away.

"Before you vote," Said Tywin, turning back to the hall filled with nobles from all over the realm. "I ask that you take into account what House Arryn has to gain by slandering both myself and my family. Why do they want you to vote against my own grandchildren? Why do they want to instead prop up this Storm boy as Robert Baratheon's so-called heir? To control the throne? To control you? The answer may very well surprise you."

And with that, the Lord of Casterly Rock sat back in his seat. Patiently waiting for the proceedings to carry on.

Jon stood up. "We shall then vote on whether or not to toss out the claim of both Myrcella and Tommen," he announced to the Great Hall. "After that matter is settled, we shall then discuss the claim of Lady Daenerys."

About an hour later, the scribes had finished counting the total votes for and against Tommen and Myrcella.

It went about as well as Jon had expected. An overwhelming majority of the lords and ladies present had voted against the Lannister children. No doubt believing the claims of House Arryn, and no longer fearing the power behind the Lannister name, it likely felt good for a number of much smaller houses to finally 'stick it' to House Lannister.

Though Jon doubted that Tywin would ever officially admit to Myrcella and Tommen being bastards borne of incest, that itself seemed to be on the lips of every lord and lady within the Great Hall. Whether the Old Lion liked it or not, his family no longer had a right to the Iron Throne.

House Lannister also had no allies in court. Though Jon would protect Myrcella and Tommen, he would not aid Lord Tywin if he elected to take things to the bitter end. So, the Lion of Lannister was more or less on its own.

A short while after the results had been announced, Jon summoned everyone back. The next issue would be of Edric Storm, and then he would call for luncheon.

It had taken only a few moments for the assembled nobles to quieten down. After the last vote, the relations notably between the Westerlords and the Valemen had grown considerably more hostile. Tensions were higher than before.

Jon hid a smile as he shared a glance with Robb, who rolled his eyes when Robert Arryn stood upright from his seat and began pacing the empty marble dais in front of them all.

"Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms," He began. "I will not stand here before all of you and pretend that I alone can control the direction of this council. All of you gathered here today are free to make your own decisions."

They know this. Get to the point, Jon thought to himself, half-tempted to tell Robert Arryn as much.

"As you know, our dear King Robert was unable to leave us with trueborn sons and daughters, thanks to the treacherous Queen Cersei…" Lord Arryn was gracious enough to not spare the smoldering Tywin Lannister a glance. "There is no doubt that we live in dire times, and I see no other choice but to instead place on the throne, a boy who grew up in Storm's End in the care of his own uncle. Edric Storm is every bit the Baratheon that King Robert was in his youth…"

Everyone on the dais, every Lord Paramount had been expecting this. There were numerous gasps throughout the assembled crowd of lords. Even now Jon could hear their thoughts and whispers. To place a bastard on the throne… ludicrous.

Jon spared a glance at Edric Storm himself. The boy of three and ten looked about ready to hide underneath his chair. He was blushing madly and seemed to sink into his green-and-gold doublet.

Robert Arryn continued. "I understand your doubts, your frustrations about the last few moons…" He said, attempting to placate the council. "I understand that placing a… Storm… on the throne is not the same as a Baratheon, but I see no other way. Edric Storm is the best and only heir we have who could ever replace King Robert."

"You forget, Lord Arryn…" Tywin Lannister said coldly, "A bastard cannot inherit the lands and titles of his sire."

Undeterred, Robert Arryn continued. "Which is precisely why I motion for this council to legitimize Edric Storm effective immediately."

That was when the gallery exploded.

Lords from the Westerlands began echoing their liege lord and were calling for Edric Storm's claim to be thrown out. Meanwhile, Stormlanders were vehemently voicing their support in favor of the boy and were even yelling over each other just to get a word in against the Westerlords.

Jon immediately stood to his feet. "Silence!" He roared at the top of his lungs. Alongside him, both Ghost and Lya had stood and let loose a long drawn-out howl that echoed off the marble walls of the Great Hall itself. The sound was so startling and deafening that it quickly subdued the lords gathered in the throne room.

When the wolves stopped, all were silent. "That is enough!" Said Jon. He looked sharply at Robert Arryn. "Lord Arryn, there is not a soul on this council, not even myself, who could give Edric Storm the Baratheon name. Only a king could do so, and we just so happen to be deprived of one. By the laws set in stone by our ancestors, your motion is denied."

The Lord of the Vale tried his best to seem unaffected, but Jon could see the simmering anger in those pale blue eyes. He ignored them. "Besides, you seem to be alone in pushing Edric Storm's claim. I have yet to hear it from the boy himself." He said, then turning to the shy boy of thirteen, who seemed about ready to melt into a puddle underneath Jon's hardened gaze.

"Edric Storm," Jon addressed the blue-eyed boy who resembled Robert Baratheon down to the dark eyebrows and straight black hair. "Lord Arryn is not here to speak for you. What say you? If this council were to give you the Baratheon name, would you take up the throne?"

His line of questioning was practically useless. Not a soul on the Great Council could make Edric Storm into a Baratheon, yet Jon wanted to know for certain whether or not the boy was together with Robert Arryn, or if the Lord of the Vale was simply attempting to consolidate power within the court, and perhaps crown a king who he could have a hand in making.

The boy of thirteen looked as shocked as Jon expected him to. Edric Storm glanced at Cortnay Penrose, who only whispered a few kind words in encouragement, though for which way, Jon didn't know. It was then that the boy seemed to think it over for a few moments. Finally, he looked back at Jon, and with the characteristic shyness of a boy taken out of one environment and shoved unceremoniously into another, had shaken his head. "No," said the boy quietly.

That was all Jon needed to know. He smiled kindly at Edric Storm "Thank you for your honesty," and turned back to the council. "The claim of Edric Storm is thrown out."

There was a loud commotion coming from the crowd of Stormlanders, but they began quieting down once Jon glanced their way. He continued. "This leaves us with Lady Daenerys' claim to the Iron Throne." Jon looked at his aunt. "My Lady, will you make a case for your family? Or do you simply wish to reclaim Dragonstone as is your birthright?"

A deathly chill came over the Great Hall. Voices that had eagerly voted in favor of, or cajoled Edric Storm and the Lannister children had grown silent. Neither of the previous candidates had dragons.

Here it comes… Thought Jon. His nerves were firing off like… well… like a pair of newborn dragons.

Daenerys looked calm. "Lord Stark, I do not wish to stake my claim for the throne." She said, much to everyone's shock.

Nervous chattering had begun to fill the hall. Lords and Ladies wouldn't stop whispering to one another. Speculation. There had to be a reason, right? Here was the Iron Throne on a plate, and this girl was refusing it? Was she out of her mind?

Jon had to keep up the pretense, of course. "And… Why might that be, Lady Daenerys?"

"Simply because I have discovered that more of my family survived the Sacking of King's Landing. I have decided not to take the throne, as they have already sworn allegiance to another Great House."

"As a representative of House Targaryen, it is required that you reveal all that you know. What Great House has your family sworn allegiance to?"

There was the characteristic pause. "Yours," Said Daenerys with a knowing smile.

And that was when the Great Hall erupted into hysterics.

Jon was sharp enough to weave through the chaos. Robb now stood with him, meanwhile, Robert Arryn was on his feet, ready to start pointing fingers at the both of them.

"Silence!" Jon called again sharply. Both Lya and Ghost growled. The room fell quiet once more.

"I did not know of this," said Robb as he now spoke to Daenerys before the court. "How is it possible that your family survived the Sacking? And who among my own bannermen knowingly hid Targaryens from King Robert? From my own father?"

"It was me." Came the expected voice of Jon's uncle.

There were many gasps coming from highborn ladies hailing from every kingdom. Out of the commotion, Jon saw Starag make his way through the crowd of gathered Northmen, particularly from his spot next to Wyman Manderly. The hulking giant of his uncle had burst through to the center of the dais, where he drew Longclaw and laid it at Robb's feet.

Everyone's eyes were now fixed on Starag, who bowed as low as he could to Robb and Jon. "Lord Stark, forgive me, for I've not been honest with you." He said. "My wife, Lady Rhae Mormont, is not merely a bastard, but is Rhaenys Targaryen, the firstborn daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell of Dorne."

Robb continued the charade. "Explain yourself, Lord Mormont."

"I lied to your Lord Father, one of my closest friends, and told him that my own wife was a Dornish bastard. I did this because I knew of his loyalty to King Robert, and I knew of Robert's hatred for the Targaryen family. I knew it was treason, but I did not care. I would do it again to protect both her and our children. I revealed this information to Lady Daenerys so that she would aid us against the Pretender, and so she would not act against House Stark nor her allies." He said. "Forgive me, my lord. I have always served your family faithfully, and I will continue to do so until my dying day."

"He's a bloody liar!" Called one of the Northmen.

"Off with his head!" Cried another. Jon swore it might've been a Glover. "He's a fucking traitor! Bringing shame on the North just like his brother!"

A Valeman stepped up. "That cannot be possible! The children of Rhaegar Targaryen were killed in the Sacking of King's Landing."

"That's not true." Said Jaime Lannister as he stepped up to the dais. "On the day my father sacked the city, I went into Maegor's Keep to save Rhaegar's family. I was too late to save Elia and Aegon, but I did save Rhaenys from one of my father's men. I hid her until I could send her away to Dorne."

"Ser Jaime is right…" Doran Martell rose shakily from his seat, leaning on his cane. "Rhaenys lived thanks to him. He sent her to Dorne by ship, and she grew up under the alias of Rhae Sand, one of my brother's children. I protected her and kept her hidden, as any other man here would do for his family. One day, Lord Mormont came to Sunspear for business. I hosted him, and he met my niece." He paused. "Rhaenys fell in love with Lord Mormont, and I swore him to secrecy so that she might be kept safe in the North. They married not long after. Lord Mormont speaks the truth."

All eyes were directed back onto Robb, who only kept up his fixed stare on Starag. Now that the story had been backed up, that the truth had been revealed, it now fell to Jon's brother to make the final decision, as he was now the newly instated Warden of the North.

Robert Arryn looked murderously at Starag as if he'd been right to doubt House Mormont since the beginning. He looked about ready to draw his own blade. Yet before he could speak, he was stopped by his own mother, Lady Catelyn, who laid a gentle hand on her son's shoulder to calm him. It worked.

Jon was thankful for the older woman's intervention, as it gave them just enough time to ease tensions in the Great Hall. "Rise, Lord Mormont," Robb said. Starag did so. "You've demonstrated yourself to be an outstanding example among my own bannermen by the countless services you've done for the betterment of my family, and the North by extension. You've done well with the lands and people entrusted to your family, and though there are many on this council who do not see it, none of us would be standing here if it weren't for you. Lord Mormont, I pardon you for your past mistakes. Your wife and children are welcome at my table, and I do not hold them responsible for the misdeeds of the Pretender, nor the Mad King before him."

"Thank you, Lord Stark," Starag said graciously. He picked up his sword, sheathed it, and bowed once again to Robb.

Where the air was once thick with tension, there was now a sense of calm that had eased into the throne room. The Lords of the North who'd been vocal about having Starag be executed were now quiet after their liege had made his decree. Everyone else was noticeably lacking in comments. Jon supposed that the lords from the other kingdoms, for the most part, were simply fine with having the Starks deal with the internal matter on their own, and didn't particularly care about the outcome itself. It didn't concern them, after all.

Jon decided to reimpose his chairmanship and get everyone back on track. There had been enough hysterics for one session. A small reprieve from the drama was required.

He stepped up to the top of the dais and spoke to the gathered lords. "I believe that is enough for now. We shall reconvene the council in an hour. If you are famished, luncheon will be served in the Queen's Ballroom."