Battleborn

"They're so soft!" Jayne squealed, tracing her fingers through the hair of the black bitch with green eyes. Beside the she-wolf pup, her identical twin brother rolled in the soft fabric of the blanket they'd been resting on. Rickon was to be given that one, and he'd already named it Shaggydog, a name Bran and Sansa thought was preposterous but she found endearing. Shaggy Dog was already like his master, gentle and sweet but possessed a temper better suited to a dragon. "Aerion says they can grow to be the size of a horse." She said idly, running her fingers through the brown and black pup Lord Stark had named Warden. How alike Lord Stark, the pup is… already sitting beside me listening for his littermates, a perfect little sentinel.

Her brother was at the wall, a decision he'd taken for himself. After he arrived at the rebel camp, presenting Brightflame to Lord Jon Arryn and coming with a retinue of warriors, which included Gerion Lannister and his horribly scarred squire Sandor Clegane. As she remembered her history books and the telling of Lord Eddard (Who seldom discussed the war but would if she gently probed him as he felt it was her right to know.), Lord Quellon Greyjoy sent out an invite for the rebel lords to arrive at Pyke as he wished to discuss entry into the alliance to topple House Targaryen. Quellon was old, shrewd, and wise and possessed a clarity of vision different than other Ironborn and sensed that Lord Arryn was in turmoil. Prince Valarr was the natural choice as King, many respected him, and he was beloved by the realm. And in many of the heroic deeds of your father, prince Valarr had his part. But Prince Valarr fell in the early days of the rebellion when Aerys the mad took to the skies on the back of crimson Aegos. His death left three untested youths whose deeds were known but seen as more the antics of boys than heroes. Lord Stark had a claim as valid as Lord Robert's, for both their mothers were of the dragon's blood though Lord Stark more so in that his came from the royal line. But Daemon held a better claim, for his mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother were the sisters of Kings. He was the son of Prince Valarr as well, the King that never was. Aerion, a legitimized bastard, had little support but for the Ironborn whose respect he had earned facing renegades and raiders and defeating Victarion Grejoy in a contest of might. Yet the Lords Tully pushed for Robert and Hoster above Gaemon held persuasive words. And so, a Great Council amongst the rebels was convened at the urging of Quellon the wise. And betwixt the bones of Nagga, Lord Stark renounced his claim, vowing that the North cared little for the intrigue of the South and that he would name his brother his heir and march to the wall this very moment if he was nominated again. Lord Robert split the table he was seated at with his mighty war hammer and threatened to mount his goodfather's head on a spike if he dared to reject whatever conclusion the great council came to should his name not be accepted by majority vote.

Aerion, hating what his father had done to their dynasty and sharing lord Stark's hatred of the throne, set sail for the wall that very morning, renouncing all claims. Viserys was but a child, and no one knew if he would turn out like his father, so his claim was dismissed. If any of Aerion Brightflame's descendants still lived, they had taken up exile in Yi Ti or Leng, and none had heard from them in decades. And from the stories she attended as a child, Maegor had written King Aegon forswearing any claim to the throne for himself or his descendants. I am the Lord of Peikeng, a city thrice the size of King's Landing, and it has aged me. What want I with another city and a continent to rule? Like as not, my heart could not take it. I wish you well coz, may your line rule until the end of all things; I shall stay with my city, which I earned with my sword and wit.

That narrowed it down to two, and the Great Council of A.C 282 (Called the great Kingsmoot by the Ironborn.) crowned Daemon Blackfyre, who vowed to avenge Robert's lost honor and rescue Lord Stark's sister from Rhaegar the raper.

Daenerys swallowed. Lord Stark never says that Rhaegar was a rapist, but I hear it from the men at arms in the castle and the city. Was it true? At fourteen, she'd grown up with the infamy of her fallen house, though she first heard "the truth" of the matter from a drunken Tormund who said he doubted the stories about Rhaegar. Your brother was a great big poof, a sword swallower. He married that spindly sand witch Elia for duty but bedded her because she looked a boy. I fought Rhaegar at Harrenhal in the melee and 'afore that when in King's Landing for the old wizard when I served with the Captain of their Gold cloaks helped teach the boy to fight as he wanted someone to teach him the rough style even as he learned the kneeler way of war. He spent so much time with that Sword of the morning, aye, I denae believe he was a raper. Still, he stole a man's woman. A man like Lord Robert and your father was a fucking lunatic. And so here you are, with the lady dragon, and not in that red cesspit as a queen and wed to a nephew or some such foulness.

His language was coarse, but Dany adored Tormund; he never lied to anyone and never showed fear. She had no idea what a sword swallower was until later, and that wasn't the only place she'd heard the rumor. These were not rumors that were safe to utter either, for the story had to be as it was for the sake of the realm. Dany knew that much, even if she hated it, and she had never known her father by blood nor her brothers save her half-brother Aerion and he only through letters. No one had seen Viserys since Jonothor Darry abducted the boy near the final days of the rebellion when Aegos abandoned Aerys and fled Westeros, never to be seen again. Robb and Sansa, Rickon and Bran and Arya were her siblings, Lord Stark her father or the only one she ever knew, and Jon Storm her…well, if lady Stark had her way, then he'd be gone from here to the wall or Essos as a sell sword or some such. My nieces have a stronger claim to the throne, and they are promised to the King and Lord Robert's heirs, one to be queen consort and the other the lady wife of his most loyal vassal. What use am I? Wed to Robb, I'd be a trophy, and we love each other but as brother and sister and not in the Valyrian way.

They had spoken of it, and Robb said he'd do his duty by her, but it was plain to see she had eyes for Jon and he for her, and in her situation, wed to a bastard would remove her as a threat and her lineage and so it was one of the few times such a union could be possible. Robb assured her that he had grand plans for the North, but they could wait until his Lord father died, hopefully at an age as old as Lord Aenar. They didn't include her as his lady wife but as a valued sister of the North and perhaps as his closest advisor. If Lord Stark lives so long, then like as not, he'd outlive us; I would give council in the realm beyond, maybe.

The albino of the pack, born with open eyes, was already with Jon. Bran's up napped lazily in the boy's arms. Rickon was resting with his head on the shoulder of Harwin's shepherd, who lost all but two of her pups to cough and seemed content to nurse the little wolves. The herding hounds of the North have direwolf blood in their veins. They're larger than most dogs and more intelligent and live longer. However, they were primarily black or brindle in color. Only the shepherd hounds of the reach descended from the Northern hounds of old, kept their original grays and whites looking more as Direwolves than as great black dogs descended form Direwolves. Why is that, I wonder…Why there and not here?

It was like the wild mammoth herds that had crossed the neck when her aunt Lady Rhaella was a child, those that found the Reach and made it their home were larger and more primal than the ones in the North though fewer in number. There was word that Lord Mace had sent letters requesting Dany's hand in marriage for his second son Lord Garland, but King Daemon and Lord Stark both rejected them. He poisoned many cisterns and reservoirs in the Storm Lands; it took years for them to be safe for consumption again.

The damage that action had done to the reputation of House Tyrell had made him half-hated in his own Kingdom. It was said that Lord Stannis was his loadstone and originally there to remind the Reach of its lack of faith, yet the hard and cold man had earned the respect of much of the Kingdom and those vassals hoped to wield him against Highgarden to settle their ancient grudges. Dany had no interest in marrying into a house, so beleaguered and undermined. Her cousin Daeron had sent a letter to her recently, and so had the King, both inquiring after her well-being.

They wrote to her often enough and sent gifts for her nameday. Her violet eyes misted as she thought of the kindness she received from them when they had no cause to trust her given her name and the threat she represented to them, however minor. Yet there was no doubt in her mind that they at least pretended to care. And Jacaerys is good to me. One of the pups whimpered and fought with its sister for a teat causing a smile to creep over Dany's face. That one shall be Arya's, I'm sure.

"Ohh, Highgarden or the arbor! Lord Orys?"

"Don't be daft," Sansa said. "She loves my half-brother."

"But isn't he for the wall?" Jeyne asked, frowning.

Dany looked up from her thought, eyes wide with concern for Jon and fear, betrayal, and a dragon's wrath.

….

It is a different world than when I was young boy. Bastardry is no longer seen as an affront that carries the taint of sin. You can thank Daemon Blackfyre for that. Though, you will still find that many traditions long outlast the grave. People will fault you less than they would a peasant.

Those words, uttered by a dead man, echoed in his mind as he hacked away at the training dummy. He remembered it like it was yesterday, even though it had been nearly five years since the day Lord Aenar returned from the South for a festival honoring his ancestor. The last Sea King, the last Northern dragon rider until grandmother. Lord Aenar sat on a sofa in the feasting hall, in the position of honor beside his lord father. He was covered in silks and furs and walking with an ebon cane that had a dragon bone handle with piercing turquoise eyes that bore into your soul. He had taken Jon's hand and pulled him close with a surprisingly firm grip for one so ancient. His cheeks were sunken, he smelled of perfumes and blood, and Jon was terrified of him, and he framed his face and laughed softly, saying that he knew that face. "You remind me of a Targaryen so grim men joked that he was a secret Stark bastard passed off as Daeron's son."

Lady Stark hadn't seemed so amused by that, but she hated whenever he was brought to the table. But lady Rhaella seemed to look most thoughtful from then on. His grandmother paid more attention to him than she had before. Not that she ever neglected him; her patience ensured he knew how to read. It was her skill at riding horses and Winter that ensured he was a rider as talented as his aunt Lyanna had been. And it was lady Rhaella who kept the secret of his meetings with Daenerys.

Dany.

It hurt all the more because Lady Stark insisted on minimizing the time he spent with his sisters, foster or otherwise. She thought I would corrupt them, no doubt. It never made any sense; she was never cruel to the other bastards in the keep. Distant and remote, but she praised their efforts, elevated more than a handful of them to key positions, and even defended Ser Edric Flowers, a knight from the reach who left the Arbor because he couldn't stomach serving Lord Stannis after he'd usurped House Redwyne. Edric had been accused of theft of city funds, and most of the city's people wanted him dead because he was a Reachman more than an accused thief. No one has forgotten the mass poisonings by Mace Tyrell and how Lord Renly died screaming.

Jon knew the tale well and knew that Robert descended on the Reach Army with Argella after King's Landing was taken and how Lord Mace had avoided being incinerated by Dragon's fire but lost an arm after it had been trampled by his horse which had thrown him off and caught fire. The Ballad of the blue flame was a favorite of the local taverns, and none failed to see that Stannis was a means by which King Daemon could threaten Highgarden. Lady Stark had given a magnificent speech, shaming the men and women of Wintertown and saving Ser Edric.

He was one of the sworn protectors of Dany now. It hurt; if she was so just and fair with other bastards, why was she cruel and unjust to him? Grandmother explained that it was because most men in the South don't bring their bastards home with them, while in the North, as with Dorne, the distinction wasn't there. Brutal lands breed pragmatic men, my little Storm. Many a time, both House Martell and Stark had been reduced to one true-born heir and one or two bastards. Only to rise innumerous again because of their unions. It was also true with the Freehold since the intrigue of Dragon Lords often had costly results. She grieves a perceived slight, and try as she might, she can't completely shed her Southron roots, nor should she. For House, Tully is a proud and ancient one, and Southron culture unites half the realm.

Grandmother had a way of putting things that made it hard to hate lady Stark. However, there were days when he did hate her. But what could he do? Rhaella never called Lord Stark his father, nor did his father ever refer to Jon as more than "of my blood.". Part of him wondered what that meant, but most of him hurt because it seemed like he was terrible and endured and suffered and only his half-siblings truly loved him. Sansa had shied from him when first she learned what being a bastard meant. They had been close, then no more, and then one day, she began to try and bond with him again. Jon wanted to rebuff her, but the look of guilt in her eyes was blended with a sense of longing.

She missed me. Whatever doubts and slights were cast his way, it was easier to endure when such love existed. But nothing lasts forever. Jon thought sadly. And Lady Stark was right; loving Daenerys was a line crossed that would destroy her future. Calling me a strong and our children would have my muddied blood. And Arya and Daenerys had grown so angry with Lady Stark and Sansa when she found out, became frosty and distant to her. I'm disrupting the Stark family with my presence and Dany..how can I let that continue.

They kissed in the hall after he'd left the courtyard, which was the sweetest moment of his life. The Straw dummy was almost in tatters by the time Dany got there. She was dressed in a black dress, with the red dragon of her house emblazoned on the chest and tiny ruby gemstones in each of the eyes. Her hair was long and braided as his grandmother's and Lady Stark and her eyes were stained red as from tears. "Sansa tells me you want to join your uncle and my brother at the wall?"

Jon swallowed Seven hells! "It is..better this way."

"Like hell," Daenerys responded; her voice was quiet, but there was that fierceness that made Jon's skin tingle. "You have no right."

Jon smiled wryly. "I have the only right, as I'm no criminal."

"That is not what I meant, and you know it!" she almost shouted, her voice tight, and her body seemed to writhe in its spot. Is she panicking? To hurt her this bad, it was as though he'd sawn off his hand. But maybe the hurt will make it easier for her. "I won't marry Robb Stark. Like as not, he'll be betrothed to princess Rhaenyra or one of the Manderly girls. My claim is inferior to the twin girls Elia Martell bore; many people, good people, people with dragons, would have to die before I was chosen. He'll like as not still marry me off to some loyal knight or a bastard like you because politics demands he diminish my standing further, but he cares for me, the King, and will pick someone he knows will love me. Maybe even someone of my choosing."

It was too good to be true. Nothing like this had ever happened to him in his life; it was all too good to be true. And yet…If it was. No, his violet eyes hardened, and his resolve thickened. He couldn't be used to denigrate her love, and what if the King changed his mind? It would be easier for them both if he were far away. She called me Jon Strong…

"And if the King refuses, I'll be here with a matron who hates me and watching you live happily, and my love may turn to hate and prove her.." Jon couldn't finish the sentence because Daenerys laughed. She laughed a frantic, absurd laugh until she wheezed, "Ahhh…Jon." She whispered, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Only you would think yourself that weak." She stepped forward, her soft footfalls leaving softer prints in the snow, and when she stopped, she reached up and pulled him into a deep and long kiss. "Lord Storm, you belong to me, not Lady Catelyn, nor the phantoms of your mind, and certainly not the Watch. Your Old Gods made you for me, and I do not give you leave to go to take the Black."

What could Jon do? He knew at that moment that if he took the Black, it wouldn't matter. He'd break every oath and defy any law or convention to return to her side. "What if the King..."

"We'll find out. He's coming here in two months; if he doesn't approve, we'll elope." Daenerys said in a voice that was as at once soft and sharp as steel. "Syt iksan Daenērys vīlībāzma āzma hen Targārien Lentor se daorys daor sesīr se zōbrie zaldrīzes kessa ivestragon nyke qilōni kostan jorrāelagon"

Jon smiled and bowed his head. What a fool he'd been to think the way he'd thought, to let doubt and the wounds of a bitter woman cloud his judgment.

Ygritte was right.

He knew nothing.

So, he'd trust her.

Since she clearly knew something.

As his heart settled, the direwolf pup peaked out from the bushes of Winter roses and joined the pair in their embrace. nestling in between their boots.