Active on the r/thecitadel Reddit… uploading on schedule… wow, I must be back into writing mode! We're getting to the last 15 or so chapters now and things are really going to kick off here, so I can't wait for you all to read what's coming! I guess it also means I need to start thinking about what I'm going to focus on next though.
Bold speech is High Valyrian. The King's Landing scenes are later in the timeline than the Dragonstone and Winterfell ones.
I own nothing but the OC's. All recognisable characters are the property of George R R Martin and/or HBO.
Daenerys finally got a chance to speak with Ser Barristan and Ser Rolly the following day. Forcing herself up and into the Lord's solar she received the two whilst sat down at the desk, still too sore to move around properly. Baby Daeron was beside her in a little basket and the Princess was struggling to look away from the innocent little boy, though the white knights in front of her concerned her more than she would admit.
"I struggle to see why you both are here on Dragonstone in truth, Sers." She admitted.
"By order of His Grace." Ser Rolly answered. "I am here for your protection…"
Daenerys scoffed. "I am on an island that has been loyal to my House for hundreds of years, far enough away from the scheming and the backstabbing in the Red Keep. Ser Jorah is the extent of protection I need, Rolly. Why has the King chosen now to send his two most loyal swords away?" Rolly looked at the elder of the two Kingsguard, and Dany saw that even he was in the dark. "You do not know."
"His Grace is concerned." Ser Barristan explained. "And despite counsel advising him against this move, he values your own protection over his own."
The elder man's eyes travelled to Daeron, and Dany could hear the unspoken message. "He is worried about Daeron." She voiced.
"Word will spread, and he knows not on how certain parties will react." Barristan explained. "All members of the Royal Household are entitled to Kingsguard protection if the King sees fit. He has seen fit to grant Ser Rolly to Daeron."
"A duty to which I shall perform as if he were Lucerys himself." Rolly said firmly. "Those of us that served in the company know that it is not a man's last name that is important, but his strength of character."
It meant more to Dany than she could explain, but her hand went immediately to stroke Daeron's tiny hand. "Thank you, Ser."
"And I shall be here for the next month, before I will return to the Red Keep." Barristan explained. "Officially to report on the mining efforts, but the King also wishes for all security to be evaluated. Nothing is to arrive on Dragonstone and slip through the cracks, Princess." He then pulled a letter out from his boot and handed it over to her. "This is for your eyes only."
Resting the letter down on her desk, Dany smiled at the two men. "Thank you, Sers. I may not agree with my brother's decision to send you here, but your presence is always a blessing."
"We shall leave you be, Princess." Barristan bowed deeply. "Ser Rolly shall be outside with Ser Jorah, and I shall begin my new duties."
"As you say, Ser." Dany smiled. "Forgive me if I don't get up."
Barristan returned the smile. "You have been through an ordeal, your own Mother could barely move for days after the King was born, so I understand." He then turned to his fellow Kingsguard knight. "Come, Ser Rolly. We should leave the Princess in peace."
Rolly bowed too before the pair departed, leaving Dany alone with her child simply staring at the parchment on her desk nervously. After a few minutes, she broke the red wax seal and unfolded the parchment, reading the words written in her beloved brother's hand.
Dearest Sister,
It has been months since I left Dragonstone and not a day has gone by without finding myself worrying about you and our child. Circumstances are terrible and a part of me wishes that our urges had not overtaken our senses, but then I think on the future, of a little Valyrian babe with your eyes and smile and I find myself overjoyed.
Thus far the news has only reached myself and Ser Barristan, though by the time you read this Rolly will know and I am sure the Spider is aware of our dalliance. I aim to keep it this way for as long as possible but part of my upbringing was spent with Lysono Maar and I understand how swiftly news can travel to dangerous effect. This is why I wish you to have men I know to be loyal to us in your employ. You may think yourself safe on Dragonstone and I desperately hope I worry for nought, but your safety is paramount to me.
I will visit you as soon as I am able, I swear it. Our babe shall know their Father even if it is a secret to the rest of the world. Our family was ripped away from us and I shall not allow that to happen again.
Do not attempt to reply until Ser Barristan returns. I trust no raven nor any other messenger with this secret we share.
Stay safe,
Your Luke.
She felt a tear fall from her eye at reading his words, though there were parts she knew he had intentionally left out. He would only be able to visit after his babe with the Tyrell woman was born, and even then he could be marching off to battle before meeting Daeron. Still, the words were somewhat comforting to her as she clutched the parchment to her breast.
The cries of Daeron awoke her from her daydreaming, and so Daenerys stashed the letter in one of the desk's drawers and moved so that she could pick up the newborn. "Hello sweetling." She whispered, smiling brightly down at the wailing child. "Are you hungry?" It seemed like he was, and wanting the intimacy Daenerys shifted her dress down one of her shoulders to expose her breast, letting the baby latch on and feed.
The feel of flight was the greatest that Lucerys had ever known. The wind howling around his face and his shoulder-length silver hair flapping around was oddly soothing to the King of the Seven Kingdom's and always managed to take his mind away from the stresses of babies and ruling. He veered Valaxes around the Red Keep, banking left and right in a zig zag pattern to get the now hulking dragon used to the quick manoeuvres that he expected to need in battle. "ENOUGH, VALAXES!" Luke roared over the buffeting winds as the dragon looked to turn towards the construction site atop Visenya's Hill. "TAKE US HOME!" Valaxes roared out, before banking to the right and flying towards the ruins of the Dragonpit, slowly lowering them into the crumbled arena before his feet hit the ground and he lowered his head. Luke carefully unchained the saddle and walked down Valaxes' wing, careful not to get his golden cloak caught on the dragon's spikes.
The growth rate of the creatures had been incredible, and Luke noted as he reached solid ground that Valaxes alone looked like he was around 150 feet in length, with Rhaegal not too far behind the black and crimson alpha. Luke ran his hand along Valaxes' scales calmingly, before the dragon flapped it's humungous wings and launched into the air once more. Luke smiled as he watched his mount go, before a huff sounded from the other end of the Dragonpit. Turning, he spotted Rhaegal curled up, his snout pointing Northwards. Luke walked over to the green, wild dragon, and once again gently ran his hand along the green scales. "You shall have a rider soon, Rhaegal." Luke soothed the dragon. "One day Aegon shall be grown, and you shall bond."
The dragon simply snorted again, settling it's head into its wings for a snooze. Luke smirked at the insolence, but allowed the dragon its space and walked out of the ruins to where his horse was waiting, along with Ser Taron and half a dozen of his red cloaks, the new normal in the month or so since Ser Barristan's departure.
"Your Grace." The Kingsguard bowed. "Are we to head back to the Red Keep?"
"We are." Luke nodded, keeping his cloak free as he mounted his horse. "The air was freeing today."
Ser Taron bowed his head. "Watching you from the ground is enough for me, Your Grace."
Smirking, Luke kicked his horse into movement as the pair made their way back to the Red Keep and reality. The route took them through the city and so Luke could ride amongst and observe his subjects of Fleabottom, the Central Square as well as the newly arrived additional soldiers going through their drills on Castle Way leading up to the Red Keep. Once inside the walls of the castle his horse was swiftly taken away to the stables, leaving Luke with a free afternoon.
He decided to spend that time in his solar researching through his families copy of Signs and Portents, carefully retracing all the words added in by Rhaegar about Aegon's Prophecy. Winter was imminent, and there was one further part of the prophecy that Luke truly did not understand.
"The Dragon has Three Heads." He whispered, tracing the line written by the Conqueror. "We have three grown dragons… but…" He trailed off. His initial thought had been Aegon, but Luke doubted he had the years needed for the toddler to mature before the threat was upon them. For the first time in almost six years he wondered if he had been wrong to arrange for his brother's death. "No." He said firmly. "Viserys needed to die." Valarra's fate still pained him all these years later, and though despite understanding his relationship with the Lyseni more now than he perhaps had done at the time, he would never regret avenging her murder.
His mind then turned to the boy that Jon had killed on the banks of the Rhoyne, raised by Rhaegar's former squire Myles Mooton. Myles had admitted the boy to be a Blackfyre scion, but was he lying?
His ponderings over the third head of the Dragon were put aside when the door opened. "Lord Varys here to see you, Your Grace." Ser Taron announced.
Amusedly, Luke shut the book and put it to one side as the eunuch walked into the room. "Lord Varys." Luke smirked. "Even now the title is being granted to you."
"Despite my constant protests, Your Grace." Varys bowed. Luke didn't believe that he protested at all however, understanding that the man liked the power the false title gave him.
"What can I do for you?" Luke asked.
Varys' mirth faded. "I come with a warning. Daenerys has given birth on Dragonstone."
Luke's breath hitched in his throat as all words failed him. He poured himself a glass of Arbor Gold, noticing his hands were shaking as he did so. "Is she alright?" Was his first question.
"I have heard both mother and babe are doing well." Varys explained. "Though… it begs a question of how this happened…"
The tone in the Eunuch's voice gave enough away for Luke to realise what was happening. "Daenerys is a woman grown, Varys. A Targaryen Princess. If she has taken a lover that is of no issue with me." He said monotonously.
"The Princess has been on Dragonstone for over a year, meaning that it must have occurred there." Varys said. "Perhaps you know who she was close with? The pregnancy must have occurred sometime during your own visit to the island?"
Luke's eyes narrowed. "Speak your poison, Varys." He said simply.
The eunuch smiled. "The babe is named Daeron, Your Grace. I believe congratulations are in order."
Daeron. It wasn't the first name he would have called his son, but it was a fitting one. "I know not of what you mean." He said calmly, though both knew it was a falsehood.
"The news has not spread." Varys explained. It came to me by a little bird, not to the Grand Maester."
"Then it had better stay that way." Luke said firmly. "Daenerys' privacy must be respected. Any who disregard the Princess may end up finding themselves in a precarious position with Valaxes, after all."
The threat was clear, and Varys simply bowed his head. "As you say, Your Grace." The eunuch smiled sweetly. "I just thought you would like to be aware. I shall speak no more on baby Daeron." The pair stared at one another for just a moment, but it was enough to see that the eunuch's eyes were dark, similar to how Luke remembered Jon Snow's eyes were. "If I may be excused? I have duties to see to."
Luke simply nodded, watching as Varys slipped away from the solar before quickly calling in Ser Taron. When the Kingsguard knight closed the door, Luke gave him a task. "See to it that Varys is followed, but discreetly." He said softly. "I want to know what he is up to."
"As you say, Your Grace." Taron bowed, until once again Luke was left alone in his solar, though this time all he could bring himself to do was to digest the new information about his newborn son, and all the worries that would inevitably follow from the birth.
Night had given way to dawn, and dawn had passed to noon, but Jon Snow was still stood there staring at the table in his room. On top of the wood he had laid out both Longclaw and Dark Sister, his mind split as to what he should do.
Longclaw had been a faithful weapon ever since Lord Commander Mormont had pressed it into his hands years before. The light Valyrian Steel sword of House Mormont had always been a calming presence, with Jon appreciating the humour of the bastard wielding the bastard sword. It was a reminder of his duty to the Watch, though his oath had been fulfilled the memories remained, as did the threat that loomed above everybody in Winterfell.
Dark Sister though had a draw to it that Jon simply could not shake. He had tried to forget the emergence of his true parentage, to push Rhaegar Targaryen off as an uncaring rapist who plunged the realm into war and to reaffirm that Jon's father was Ned Stark no matter who spilled the seed. The Red Woman's words rang in his mind though, and there was a part of Jon that heard the phrase 'death pays for life' and wondered if it meant that Jon Snow was officially dead, and what had been reborn in Castle Black was simply the man that he could have been had both his parents lived in peaceful times. The sword itself was stunning, and the history that surrounded it even more appealing. Jon had grown up on stories about Visenya Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Aemon the Dragonknight and all the others that had wielded the famous blade in the past, and now it was here, laying in front of him.
He vaguely heard the door behind him open, but Jon was too enraptured by both Valyrian Steel blades to notice that Ygritte had entered the room again. Her voice however broke him out of his trance. "Are you still staring at those blades?"
"Aye." Jon nodded.
He heard her scoff. "Just pick one and go out. I've been asked all morning where you are."
"It's not that simple, Ygritte." Jon sighed, turning to face her. Sansa had shown her some different hairstyles and Jon noticed that today she had braided her hair and wrapped it around in a bun. "I feel like it isn't just about picking a sword, but choosing who I am."
"A sword is a sword, Jon Snow." She rolled her eyes. "You sharpen it, you swing it, you stick some fool full of holes with it. It matters not which one you carry."
"These swords have meaning though." He tried to explain. "If I take Longclaw, I'm denying my birth. I'm admitting myself to be nought but the Bastard of Winterfell and the former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."
"But that's what you are." Ygritte stated bluntly.
Jon ignored her comment, as his hand reached out for the hilt of Dark Sister. "But if I take Dark Sister and wield it… then I'm declaring the truth. I'm declaring myself to be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark… I'm declaring myself to be what many would consider the true heir."
Smiling, Ygritte walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "It doesn't matter what steel you swing. Longclaw or Dark Sister, Wolf or Dragon, Bastard or Prince… you still know nothing Jon Snow. You are who you are, and if you pick up the skinny sword it won't change you. You won't grow magic silver hair or pull a dragon from your arse. All that matters is who you are in here." She stroked his chest over his heart. "Now come, your brother wants you to show your face for the afternoon's spar."
Chuckling at his wife's way with words Jon nodded. He felt him slip away as his eyes found their way back to the Targaryen sword. Sighing, he shook his head and picked up Longclaw. "The questions can wait." He whispered to himself, strapping the thicker sword to his hip and stashing the long-lost blade behind the headboard of the bed. He then took a moment to let his decision settle before following Ygritte out of their room, another afternoon of training the North to fight the impossible awaiting him.
From the Tower of the Hand, Jon Connington had a clear view over to the Dragonpit. The sight of the two dragons frolicking around in the air together as dawn broke made Jon reminisce a little about the path they had travelled along to get to where they were. It had been years since they had beaten the Lannisters and returned King's Landing to the rightful rule of House Targaryen but it still felt slightly surreal at times thinking back on just how far they had come. Jon remembered the fateful day he had been first sacked as Hand of the King to Aerys, perhaps the worst day of his life. He remembered sitting in a tavern in King's Landing waiting for the morning to arrive and his exile to begin when a hooded figure had arrived, child in tow. It had been Rhaegar, his silver prince.
"I tried to change Father's mind, Jon. But you know how he gets." Rhaegar had said. "But this presents an opportunity." Jon smiled at the memory. Rhaegar always found a way to turn a situation around to their favour after all. "You will take Lucerys here with you across the Narrow Sea."
"I will be hunted." Jon had retorted. "The King won't forgive me kidnapping his son."
"The King cares that I am close and loyal, he cares that Aegon and Rhaenys are within his clutches and he cares that Viserys is hidden away in safety. He cares not for the fourth in line for the Throne, his arrogance doesn't understand the situation we are in. Baratheon won't stop until we are all dead, and I do not like the silence from Casterly Rock. I will ride out soon to meet Baratheon on the field and with any luck I shall win, but if I do not…"
"You shall." Jon had protested, the thought of Rhaegar losing even 23 years later was a painful one he had no wish to feel.
"We cannot know that. Baratheon is skilled, and I am but a man." Rhaegar told him. "Aegon is the Prince, Jon. And his two sisters shall be his partners in life. I know this, but the Gods are cruel, they may take Aegon and Rhaenys away before they can save the world. A Targaryen must be sat atop the Iron Throne, and so I must save the one I can so that if the worst happens, we have hope of a brighter tomorrow."
Jon hadn't understood the words truly back then, half drunk and depressed as he was feeling like he had risen too high, loved too hard, dared too much. He had tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell, and yet there Rhaegar was still trusting him, still giving him a second chance… so he did his duty to his friend and took Luke across the Narrow Sea and raised him to be a King. They settled in Braavos for a while before hearing word of the Golden Company, the place that they would spend the next 17 years of their lives in. His proudest moment was oddly enough the night Myles Toyne had died and Luke had been officially anointed as the Captain-General. A Targaryen in command of a Blackfyre force was never going to be universally popular and one of the main dissenters, exiled Laswell Peake, had challenged Luke for command. He had been a boy of 17 and yet he stood tall and proud during the fight, beheading Laswell Peake and holding it aloft as a show of his superiority.
Even that had been ten years previous, and the years since had almost flown by. Battle after battle throughout Essos as Luke used the Company to reconnect with his family before the dragons had been born and finally the time had come to return…
The door then burst open as Jon was immediately brought back to the present. In streamed a dozen or more soldiers all wearing the shiny steel armour of House Tyrell, golden rose shields and spears in their hands. "What is the meaning of this?" Jon roared as he reached for Truth, the Valyrian Steel blade he had held for six years, unsheathing it swiftly.
He looked around and noticed the blood adorning the spear tips and worry set into his mind. The Tyrell troops had surrounded him, though by the door a pair split to make way for a man in overly ornate armour, not a single blemish or smear on the polished steel. "Lord Tyrell." Jon snarled. "You traitorous cunt…"
"I am defending my Grandson, Lord Hand." Lord Tyrell stated firmly. "The King has gone to far and has sired a bastard son on the Princess Daenerys. The Reach has been ravaged by the Blackfyre Rebellion's over the last century, I shall nip this next bastard pretender before he has a chance to sow discord in the realm."
Jon clenched his teeth in disbelief, his worst fears coming to fruition about Luke and his sister. "This is not the way. Put down your spears and we shall forgive your treason, Lord Tyrell. Aegon is the heir, that has been stated many a time."
"As has the lack of affection between the King and his sister!" Mace raised his voice. "And yet here we are! Come quietly, Lord Connington, and you shall live."
"Where is the King?" Jon asked coldly, flexing his hands on the Valyrian Steel sword in his grasp.
Lord Tyrell's eyes narrowed. "He has been dealt with."
Snarling, that was enough for Jon as he swung Truth outwards, slamming the edge into the neck of the nearest soldier and cleanly severing the man's head from his body. He then twisted his body around and thrust Truth into the midriff of the man the other side, the gap in the armour now seeping with blood as the sword was buried hilt deep.
"Take him! Dead if needs must!" Mace Tyrell cried, and Jon's anger clouded over him. Retrieving Truth he parried the thrust of a spear and took the arm off his attacker, following through with a cut to the neck. Another parry followed, but by now Mace Tyrell had disappeared from his vision and he was being surrounded. Jon swung out, slicing spears and cutting open any body part he could reach, but the numbers he was facing were growing and he only had one weapon with no armour. A spear jabbed into his shoulder, and another in his leg. Roaring to counter the pain with adrenaline Jon continued swinging Truth, managing to down another pair of Tyrell men before the next spear punctured his back. Screaming, Jon tried to swing behind him but he was losing energy and two more spears stabbed each side, holding him upright as Truth fell from his grasp.
Only then did Mace Tyrell appear again, slowly walking towards him. It took all of Jon's remaining energy to look the traitor in the eye with a glare. "You'll not… get away with this." He managed to get out hoarsely.
"I did not wish for this." Mace insisted. "I was forced into it."
"Traitor." Jon exclaimed, before spitting blood into the face of the Lord of Highgarden. Mace recoiled, his face aghast as he wiped away the blood. Without a word, Lord Tyrell withdrew a dagger from his belt and thrust it into Jon Connington's heart, pulling it out quickly and stepping back to avoid the spurting blood.
Falling to his knees, Jon also felt the spears leave his body. He stayed in that position for as long as he was able, glaring daggers at the Tyrell Lord as the blood poured out and pooled at his knees, before his final breaths left him and the Stormlander keeled over.
And thus we have arrived at the beginning of the end… this betrayal will make a lot more sense in the coming chapters I promise, but for now all we have is the impact of the initial coup which has led to the death of Jon Connington. This impact will be felt massively by Luke in the future. They may have disagreed more since taking the Throne but Jon has raised Luke from a 4-year-old boy, Jon is basically the Father that Luke didn't have and has always been there through thick and thin. This will of course have massive impact on the Stormlands too, as Jon was the Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the region, though an unpopular one…
As far as I could see Varys' eye colour isn't stated, so I've made it up for an important reason that perhaps some of you will guess at, though it's not quite as simple as some might think.
Elsewhere, Jon's mind is split between the two sides of himself. Of course Ygritte doesn't understand the dilemma he is facing properly, but the dual personas of Jon Snow will be a factor for a long time yet.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!
Next Time: The fallout from the coup of the Red Keep, as Luke learns the truth about the conspirators.
Reviews:
Guest (messianic): By law he IS the true heir to the Throne. The order of succession would have gone: Aerys – Rhaegar – Aegon – Aegon (Jon) – Viserys – Lucerys – Robert – Stannis – Renly – Rhaenys – Daenerys as it follows male primogeniture. By all the laws of succession Jon is the rightful heir. As for portraying him as a messianic character, that's just those that know him best. You're right that Luke will be the one with the most power and he won't be giving up the throne for somebody he doesn't truly know if they tell the truth or not. The characters internal thoughts won't matter unless Luke believes them to matter. In his eyes, he conquered Westeros and returned the crown to the rightful House himself.
Guest (AeJon): It's a show fic so his name is Aegon. And as stated already, by the laws of succession he is the true heir. That doesn't mean he'll sit on the throne at the end of the story though.
C.E.W: Yeah… the Tyrell's really did not appreciate the news! Robb wouldn't push for it if Jon didn't want it, but it leaves an option there if Luke becomes really unpopular in the North.
Lightningscar: The timing certainly couldn't be worse given what's about to unfold…
Clay19: He's just sharing the truth, it's up to other people to act or not!
SpartanWolfj6: It's more about how others will handle it…