A/N: Hi guys. Got a 92 on my exam last tuesday, but at the same moment going through a tough time so I could use any well wishes you give me.

Good news, for those of you who liked my story "Targaryen Dynasty," my co-author and I have posted a short sequel fic called "A Dragon's Daughter." Be sure to check it out!

Chapter 5: Risk

'Kneel now, and your life will be spared and you will merely now be my servant.'

Running back into the godswood - it's thick groves devoid of people - Rickard could hear the words and cheers and laughter all around him.

'It's only natural a fish sleeps with its ilk.'

Joanna's insults, Arya's pranks, the whispers of the household… Baelon's smug proclamations were only the worst of it all. Gods, he had been so happy to play Torrhen Stark, a King in the North. Rickard knew his history. Torrhen was the King who Knelt and he was fine with being that King in their games, but the mocking, the laughter - it hit him hard.

They hate me… they hate me cause I am a Tully and not a Stark. It just wasn't fair. Sansa was every bit a Tully as he was and yet she was the Light of the North. The Red Wolf. Beloved from Ironrath to Karhold, from Last Hearth to Greywater Watch. Joanna never pranked her, looking up to their elder sister as if she were a goddess, the same look she gave Aunt Lya, Aunt Ashara, cousin Rhaenys, or Princess Daenerys. Why did she get to be the darling girl while he was the black sheep?

Robb, the Golden Boy.

Daenerys, the Silver Princess and Second Mother of Dragons.

Joanna, the Lioness of the North…

And Baelon, the Conqueror Reborn. Ser Baelon the Beloved. Cherished by all, and admired by Rickard to the point of worship. Such had brought him crashing down when it was the Crown Prince of all people that set him so low.

A rustle of the bushes made him jump, but Rickard relaxed when he saw it was just Sprit, his aunt Lya's direwolf. "Hi… come here, boy."

The direwolf trudged to where he was sitting, on a boulder by the heart tree. Without a sound he laid his furry head on Rickard's lap, cooing softly as his head and ears were scratched.

Clutching the fur of his aunt's wolf, Rickard cried alone - it was how he always cried, never seen by anyone. Never letting anyone see him so weak. "Why, Spirit?" he asked, as if he could understand. "Why can't my family love me? Why doesn't my family see me as a Stark?"

"You are a Stark," came a melodious, exotic voice coupled with a soft hand on his shoulder.

Rickard looked up to see the olive-skinned, beautiful face of Queen Elia, swathed in a thick gown of burnt orange and a black fur cloak. "Your Grace." He tried to bend the knee, but Elia stopped him with another gentle touch.

Her smile was radiant, and disarming. "Tis alright, nephew. I am the goodsister of your father, so as much your aunt as Lyanna is." Rickard nodded, feeling more at ease. "May I sit?"

He blinked. "Um… of course… Aunt Elia." That was rewarded by a brighter smile, which coaxed one on his lips. Contrasting with his bloodshot eyes.

Elia sat atop the boulder, her thin frame not taking up much space. One hand wrapped around Rickard's shoulder while the other absentmindedly tousled Spirit's fur. "He bonded with your Aunt Lyanna, but out of the three of us, I believe it is I that the wolf loves the most. Isn't that right, sweetling," she cooed, ruffling the fur and making Spirit's tail swish in the snow with delight. "There is a soft spot in my heart for you direwolves."

"I'm not much of one, though."

The hand that stroked Spirit's fur now cupped his cheek, making Rickard look at Elia. "You look exactly like your father, nephew. I can see it first hand."

His heart warmed at that, but Joanna's frequent taunts had left him… doubtful. "Even Sansa has the Stark eyes. I have nothing of them, all Tully."

Elia scoffed. "Your elder brother is all Lannister, as is your younger sister. My son Baelon and daughter Rhaenys have only the Targaryen eyes yet they are dragonriders, while my son Rickon has no Targaryen features… yet he is one." What was it with these Starks and brooding - though Rhaegar was one as well? However, Elia felt there was something deeper. "This isn't just about your looks, is it, nephew?"

Rickard bit his lip. "They all hate me."

"Who? Your father and stepmother?"

He shook his head. "No, papa loves me and my stepmother… she was always kind, if a little distant." I'm going to have to have a word with Cersei about this. "No, it's everyone else. They think I'm an outsider."

A sigh. "Your sister, then?" She'd heard about the punishment earlier in the moon, of the fish prank. Joanna Stark was Cersei Lannister with wolfsblood, a potent combination that could be used for a lot of good or a lot of bile. "She's young and immature. Don't let it bother you, nephew."

"Not just her, although she's the worst." He took a staggered breath. "Robb and Sansa are kind, but he's been gone for so long and she… she's so close to stepmother that I can't truly talk to her… and then there's what Baelon did."

"It was a game," Elia tried to defend, both for Baelon's sake and to see what would happen.

Rickard's eyes closed, trying to trap back the tears. "I've always been the outsider, the one who is humiliated to the laughter of everyone else… was my mother that bad? My real mother?" He wrapped his arms round his chest. "She must've been for how they hated her so."

Elia wanted to hug him close… so she did. Rickard clutched to her desperately, much as Egg had when he was still sick. "Does your papa talk about her?"

"No." He felt her warmth and softness comforting. "No one does in the family, but I hear the servants whisper… and they usually look at me when they do."

"Not at Sansa?"

"She's the darling of the whole family. Everyone loves her… and they hate me." The tears came unbidden. "And so does Baelon…"

Closing her eyes herself, Elia waited till Rickard's breathing evened - luckily, his tears this time were short-lived. "My son… he's proud and confident. With his skill and luck, he should be… but sometimes he gets carried away. There isn't a boy with more love in his heart than Baelon, I promise."

Saying nothing, Rickard just held his aunt. I wish you were my mother…

What he didn't know was that his thoughts were rather whispers, and Elia heard every word.

"You three are mad!" Lyanna Targaryen's face was contorted in anger, not to mention a sense of betrayal. "You were set on protecting Jon from this… this danger, and one comment of him in a game changed your mind?!"

Approaching Lya, Elia took her arms gently, lovingly but the Queen ripped them away. It hurt Elia, but she didn't draw attention to it. "You weren't there, Lya. This really hurt Rickard."

"I was there, your Grace," Cersei huffed. "It was nothing. If Rickard found offense, then it's his own fault for being hypersensitive."

Ned shook his head. "Cersei, he's your stepson. Don't speak of him as that, especially considering what Joanna and the others do to him."

Cersei sighed. "I know…" Gods, she did, part of the complicated relationship she had with Robb's half-brother. "But that's one thing. Baelon's comments did nothing."

"Exactly!" Lyanna squeezed Cersei's shoulder. "This is an invented issue."

"Nothing potentially affecting the Crown Prince is invented," Rhaegar cut in. They were in Ned's solar, and the Lord of Winterfell gladly leant his goodbrother use of the ironwood desk. "He's not a random boy, he's the future King. Everything must be handled gently, so this will be addressed, Lya." The Queen glared at him. "I don't know if this requires him to go with what Arthur suggested but we must consider it."

"Damn you to the seven hells," Lyanna grumbled, taking a seat.

The door knock was followed by Lord Commander Barristan entering the chamber. "Your Graces, Prince Baelon as requested."

"Good, Ser Barristan. Send him in." The Lord Commander bowed and ducked out, and soon in walked the Prince. He looked… completely innocent and confused, dressed in sparring leathers over a thick woolen tunic and trousers. "Baelon, my boy," Rhaegar said, smiling. "You look like a true warrior of the North."

"Thank you, kepa," Jon replied, though seeing him, his munas, and his aunt and uncle there… left him unsettled. "I beg your pardons, but did something happen?"

Noticing Lyanna shaking her head and sighing, Ned took a deep breath. "Sit down, nephew. There are some matters we need to discuss."

Eyes flickering among them, Jon tensed as he sat down. "If it's bad tidings, please don't leave me in suspense." Then he went pale. "Uncle Aemon… is he…"

Knowing how much Baelon adored his great-uncle, Rhaegar put that to bed quickly. "No, not at all, my son. Aemon is fine."

"Oh… thank the gods." He placed a hand on his heart. "I was worried, given how grim all of you look."

Lyanna cast a glance at her husband and wife, as if emphasizing how kind and attentive he was to his entire family. Rhaegar sighed, knowing Lyanna would still be a near-impossible sell. "We didn't intend to worry you, Baelon. We love you and this isn't supposed to be a lecture or punishment. Your muna brought something to our attention and both your uncle and I believe to hear your side before making any true judgement."

He blinked. "Did I do something, kepa?" Jon looked at Lyanna, but she shook her head and pointed to Elia. "Muna? Did I offend you somehow?"

"This is ridiculous," murmured Cersei, but a sharp look from Elia cut her off, to which the Lady of Winterfell crossed her arms.

Elia cleared her throat. "I love you, my son, always know that."

"I love you too, muna," he said with complete sincerity.

"That being said, I found concerns with your behavior yesterday in the godswood."

His brows knotted in confusion. "What… in the godswood?" He was dumbfounded. Jon always made sure to treat the heart tree with respect.

"About the game you played with your aunt, cousins, and siblings."

"Game… you mean conqueror?" His confusion only grew. "We play that all the time… if I was distracting Robb or Sansa from their duties, I'm sorry. It's just Sansa is always our Rhaenys and I haven't seen her in ages."

While it was touching to all of them that they were such a close knit family - especially considering what was tentatively planned for the future - Ned had to continue. "Your mother spoke of the game… that it was regarding the bending of the knee of our ancestor Torrhen Stark. You were Aegon the Conqueror while your cousin Rickard was Torrhen."

"Brother, he's always Aegon the Conqueror in his games. He rides the Black Dread Reborn, what do you expect?"

"Lya, please," Rhaegar interjected, reaching out to take Lyanna's hand. She ripped it away, still frosty about the whole thing.

Something that didn't go unnoticed to Jon, who in spite of everyone's friendliness and affection was growing more and more uneasy. "Robb is always Orys in our games… Artie is usually Torrhen but he wanted to be Brandon Snow this time, so Daenerys asked Rickard to do it and he agreed. Why is this such a problem?"

"Some words were exchanged between you and Torrhen."

"Words," scoffed Cersei, but she said nothing else.

"Words, uncle?"

"Aye, something along the line of you forcing him to bend the knee and humiliate him."

Baelon looked utterly shocked. "Humiliate him? Why would I do that, we were just playing a game." Truly, the childhood games were growing more frenzied - more play brawls given everyone's greater skills. The true enjoyment of them wasn't the actual play, but the fact he and Dany and Robb and Sansa could all be a part of it, acting out their roles. It felt right. "We made him Torrhen, one of the most important roles."

Feeling Lyanna's 'I told you so' look rather intently against her profile, Elia tried to ignore it. "My son, you tell me you intended not to act as such and I believe you, but sometimes others won't feel your intentions as you do."

"No… he couldn't have been humiliated…" Blinking, Jon wracked his brain, going over everything that happened in the godswood. "Was he?"

Elia nodded. "I'm afraid so."

Shame coursed through Baelon, his confident gait disappearing as he seemed to shrink before their eyes. "I had no idea… I'm sorry."

Standing, Elia moved to hug him. "We know you didn't mean to do it. You're too good a boy."

Accepting the hug and pressing himself into her stomach - in his life, Elia's hugs were often the most soothing of any sort of balm upon whatever chaos or injury came upon him - Jon looked at the others of his family. His kepa and uncle held the same trust in him as his muna did. Aunt Cersei… she was always aloof but never gave him anything but the proper sort of affection. As for his other muna, she never believed he did anything wrong so her look was nothing but sympathetic.

He loved the loyalty of the woman that birthed him, but Jon knew he had screwed up the more and more that he thought about it. What seemed as Rickard selling the dejection and pleading of a defeated King submitting to his new liege showed itself to be the truth. That Rickard truly felt dejection at his comments. What had he done?

"Jon, nephew." As Elia drew back, now Ned hugged him. Even as he spent much of his time training with his uncles Benjen and Oberyn, uncle Ned and he were quite close - sometimes he felt as if he saw him as a surrogate son on par with Robb. "You're a good lad, and love your family. That is not our accusation and we hold no ill to you for this."

"Thank you uncle." He sighed. "Rickard… he just seems… he's so quiet and Dany and I wanted to include him. Give him a smile… I didn't…"

"No, that was good, my son," Rhaegar spoke. "Wonderful idea, but you should've been more attentive to his own feelings of the situation. We are proud and strong, yet to consider the effects of our actions in the minds of others is an art that every King must think."

"I understand, kepa…" He sighed. "I was a right cunt, wasn't I?"

Lyanna's eyes widened. "Where did you hear that language?"

"Sandor," he said without hesitation, or thinking on it.

The Queen grumbled. "I'm gonna have to have a word with him." But she shook her head. "No, Jon, you did not do anything wrong… if Rickard took it badly then that's his own issue."

"Love, it was not Jon's intention, but he should be mindful of how his actions feel - especially to his cousin, your nephew."

"Muna, kepa is right. I will apologize to him."

Ned nodded. "Just be wary. Do it when he is alone. It might embarrass him further if it's done in view of others." Not to mention hurt Jon's standing. Private feelings were one thing, but the Crown Prince couldn't show himself to be apologetic in public. It showed weakness.

"I understand." Much had changed since the last time Jon remembered being in Winterfell. The transformation of Sansa into a beautiful young lady and the fun he had tumbling around with Arya distracted him, but there was a change in Rickard too. He was quiet, sullen often. Withdrawn from others. He and Dany spoke of it, especially with Sansa, and Baelon thought of solutions. "The more I think on it, there is something I figured would help Rickard with his confidence."

"Oh?" Ned raised an eyebrow. "Do tell, nephew."

"Well…" now he felt slightly wilted now that five pairs of eyes were gathered on him. Proud as he was, these were the strongest persons in the entire Targaryen Realm, his family on top of it, and the news of what he had done to Rickard took him down to size a bit. "Robb benefited greatly by being sent south as Ser Jaime's squire. Mayhaps Rickard would serve well in that capacity." He thought to something Dany brought up. "Lord Brynden Tully is his great uncle by blood. A fostering with him could suffice."

The first to perk up was Cersei. Having been silent through most of the conversation, this… intrigued her. Baelon… that is an insightful idea." Brynden was still unmarried - and dodging rumors of being a buggerer so likely would never get married. Rickard was his blood, and a potential heir. Getting the valonqar out of Winterfell with his own keep without harming him as my stepson. Everyone wins. "A marvelous idea in fact, right Ned?"

"Superb." Ned clapped his hands. "My nephew, the brilliant Prince Baelon as always."

Jon beamed, once again embraced by his muna. Both his munas. "Proud of you, my son," Elia murmured. "Now run off. Go to your sparring and enjoy yourself."

"Thank you, muna." He kissed them both on the cheek, something he did with aunt Cersei as well while hugging his kepa and uncle. "I'll find Rickard when I can. Thank you for telling me." With that, he was off. Swift as a direwolf.

Rolling her eyes, Lyanna glared at her husband and wife. "See, a delightful child. Was that even necessary."

"Kessa," Rhaegar answered. "We needed to see if he was still delightful deep down or growing sullen, bitter, and entitled like Viserys." Thinking on his brother gave him a headache. "Even still, he needs to learn a sense of humility and understanding."

"All things he can learn without trapezing around the world like a common beggar with Arthur," Lyanna dug her foot in.

"He could begin his fostering here early," Ned remarked. "He and Rhaenys could do it together."

Elia shook her head. "A Prince fostering here is still a Prince."

"You cannot tell me you're convinced of this."

"I am… gods help me for putting our son into harm's way but I think he needs this."

Glaring at them all, Lyanna balled her fists. "To seven hells with all of you." Much as it killed her inside to say it, the Direwolf Queen was as fierce as a blizzard and proud as the sigil of her birth house. Storming out, she didn't give them another word. Never will I let him be put in danger. Never!

Each breath was like a knife sticking in her lungs. Boots crunching on the snow, Daenerys knew not how her goodsister could've grown up in this place. How Sansa could. The bitter cold threatening to smother her, especially as she strained and exhausted herself in her training.

A blur of grey glinting in the winter sun caught her attention and she lurched up, deflecting the swing aimed for her shoulder. "Pay attention to your foe, your Grace," spoke Ser Jaime, her current sparring partner for the day since Lyanna - her true teacher - was elsewhere.

Dany narrowed her eyes. "I am aware," she spat, darting back and spinning her blade. "Come at me."

Ser Jaime, her mother's paramour and the closest person alongside Rhaegar as a father figure to the Princess, smiled smugly and merely circled her. His sword only barely up, not the famous Brightroar but merely a sparring blade – her mother and Lyanna had forbidden her to train with actual weapons yet. "Arrogance is not a proper attitude in battle."

"You're arrogant plenty of times," she shot back.

There was that superior smirk again. "Being aware of one's skill is not arrogance."

He then lunged again, thrusting. The Princess darted out of the way on light feet. Suddenly spinning and kicking at Jaime from the side, staggering him. She allowed herself a triumphal smirk before twisting and blocking another thrust.

"Very good, your Grace," commented Jaime, twirling his blade and continuing his attack. Each strike precise and without breaking a sweat, unlike the tiring Dany. "You fight like a true dragon."

"Go Dany!" Sansa shouted from the side, joined by many of her peers. Robb sat on a barrel, Arya on his lap as his little sister was riveted to the match. Rhaenys clapped alongside Margaery Tyrell, who looked at Robb almost as much as Daenerys while Robb drummed his fingers on his knee rather nervously. Aegon watched with amusement, while Gendry and Domeric Bolton seemed to be taking mental notes of the entire matter. Ser Brienne watched as well, arms crossed and knowing Ser Jaime was holding back.

Jon, while unlike him, was late.

Her nephew's disappearance faltered Dany slightly, but Sansa's encouragement was enough to surge energy through her. Feinting to the right, with a momentary flourish she darted to the left, thrusting. A powerful move, only for Jaime's blade to sail upward, catching the attack.

"Not bad. Quite quick." Jaime held her sword with his. "You have agility…" His smirk only filled Daenerys with ire. "But…" With a sudden burst of strength, he shoved Daenerys back, batted down her blade, and swept with his foot to send her to the ground. "You are a dainty girl."

Sansa gasped. "Dany!" She rushed to her closest companion, kneeling in the snow. "Are you alright?"

It became apparent - much to Sansa's relief - that the only damage done was to the Princess' pride. Daenerys slowly stood with her friend's aid and rubbed her bottom, hoping it wouldn't bruise before glaring at Jaime. "A girl, you say?"

Chuckling, Jaime patted her shoulder. "Aye, a girl. Try not to take offense for that is simply what you are."

"Brienne is a girl," Sansa insisted, drawing attention. "I've seen her fight. She is better than all of my poppa's guards." Mayhaps not as good as Ned himself, but clearly exceptional.

Gesturing to his sister in white, Jaime nodded. "She is, but tall and that can match any man in terms of strength and power." Brienne seemed to puff up at the praise. "However, Princess - and Lady Stark, you should listen as well - you are petite and thin of frame. As much as you train the majority of men that try to fight you will outclass you in terms of strength. Such is a fact."

Daenerys frowned, eyes planted to the ground before Jaime tilted her chin up. Tears pricked at her violet eyes without her intending to. "So I am hopeless?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. Queen Lyanna is tall but not of such imposing strength as Ser Brienne, yet she is one I would never seek to fight if I can help it. Why? Because she knows her true skills. Your skills, Princess, are in speed and agility. Able to use your small stature to outmaneuver any opponent and throw them off balance."

Rubbing her bottom, Daenerys nodded. "I suppose so." It was something for her pride to cling to. "Am I close?"

"Close to becoming the next Visenya?" Jaime smiled, this one warm. "You have the build of Queen Rhaenys, but the fire and skill of a Visenya in making." That truly improved Dany's mood, and Sansa grinned and hugged her. "Ser Brienne?" Jaime called out. "What should it be next?"

Raking her eyes over Dany, the female Kingsguard shrugged. "I think we should see if the Princess really is skilled - let her fight someone her own age."

"Good idea, nephew!" Robb, chatting with Domeric, whips his head over and points at himself. "Yes, come face Daenerys."

"Should I? I don't wish to hurt her."

Dany snorted. "If you think you'll win then you have nothing to lose… or are you a craven?"

Robb glared, eyes flickering to Margaery Tyrell, who was staring at him. "I'm not a craven," he said firmly. "Alright, Dany, I'll face you." Daenerys grinned.

Finally, emerging onto the court and wedging between his sister and cousin, Jon made them jump when he spoke. "What did I miss?"

"Jon!" Sansa beamed, kissing his cheek, while Egg socked him on the shoulder and Rhaenys tousled his hair. "Dany is facing Robb."

"Dany's gonna win!" Arya clapped, giggling.

Jon rolled his eyes. "Aye, coin down on Dany here." Spar beginning, it was Dany that charged out of the gate, aggressive from the outset. All could see her moving fast and attacking from many sides, trying to avoid Robb's counters. "Took my advice to stay agile, I see."

"No, it was Ser Jaime's idea," Sansa replied, confused.

Aegon chuckled. "No, it's Jon's from a while back. Dany simply doesn't listen."

She blinked. "I don't see why. Jon… he's the best. A knight."

Sharing her full-brother's gaze, Rhaenys shrugged with a smirk. "Daenerys knows that, but Jon always lets her beat him cause valonqar is but a sack of mush whenever she bats her eyes… to you as well, cousin."

Blushing, Baelon glared at his sister. "You're gonna pay for that."

"So you don't let her win?"

"After them, you and I. Enough a dragon for it?"

Now her eyes narrowed. "You're on."

Rolling her eyes at her two cousins, Sansa turned back to the fight. Robb seemed to have the edge now, fully on the attack with Daenerys struggling to counter… but she never gave in. She never retreated. Sansa was in awe. She… she's shorter than me... Daenerys was according to all proving to be a petite, tiny thing. Shorter than her mother, than Sansa's mother. Half a head shorter she already was… yet the dragon Princess was firm. Was powerful, one who didn't need to be mounted upon a dragon to be dangerous.

For one of the few times in her life, Sansa felt like she couldn't measure up.

"Robb, watch out!"

She blinked, knocked from her thoughts as Dany swept with her legs and knocked Robb to the ground. Sword soon pointed at his throat. "Yield." Dany was grinning.

He grumbled. "Yield."

Arya and the Targaryens were clapping, soon joined by Sansa as she smiled proudly at her companion. But this time she was beaten out by Baelon to hug her. "You were glorious."

"Thank you, Jon," she replied, only to reach for Sansa to join the hug. Something she was eager to do.

"Achem, you're wanted on the floor, valonqar," called Rhaenys in a sing-song voice. Dressed warmly but every curve accentuated, eyes all across Winterfell gathered upon her. She reveled in the attention, attention that would follow her during her long stay in the North. "I'm waiting.

Taking his own practice swords, Jon didn't wait and neither did Rhaenys. His steel and her steel glave clashed together loudly, Baelon spinning and parrying her flurry of strikes. Dorne against the North. Targaryen against Targaryen. An initial downward thrust was however blocked by Rhae. Her glaive light and swift enough to match Jon's fluid skillset taught by Ser Arthur Danye.

Both ladies were riveted, as were the others. "Clash of the titans," murmured Domeric.

"Rhae's probably the only one who can take on my valonqar," Aegon remarked… a twinge of jealousy in his tone.

Sansa noticed it when the others didn't. "You're marvelous in the court, Egg."

He smiled gratefully, one that would've made many girls swoon - not Sansa though. "Thanks Sans."

"Come on, Baelon!" called Theon Greyjoy. "Can't ya' whup a girl?!" he barked laughter, only for Sansa to glare at him. That shut him up.

Fist clenching over the hilt of his blade, Jon grunted as he attacked again. His movements were quick, body leaned forward in a charge the same way he had won the squire's melee, knocking his Rhae off balance.

But as quick as Jon was, he was still young and Rhaenys was quicker. Her lips curled into a smirk as she didn't falter, taunting him with her eyes as she held his ground. Pushing Jon back. "You're done, valonqar." Dexterously moving with supreme skill, she kneed upward. Forcing one blade out of his hands while she twirled… and left her glaive at his neck. "Yield."

Jon groaned nodded. "I yield." Dany and Sansa soon rushed to him while Rhaenys received a thump on the back from Asha Greyjoy. "You're still bigger than me, big sister."

"More skilled are the words you should use, Baelon."

"Just wait, Rhae," Dany called out. "Just wait for Ser Baelon to come of age like you."

Rhaenys only smiled. "Then I won't be able to corner him alone, now would I? You'll always fight by his side by then." She walked away, laughing.

Dany blinked, looking at Sansa. "What was that about?"

But Sansa said nothing, only biting her lip. Dany fighting by his side. For her… she'd never be able to protect her cousin if need be. I try to be like aunt Lya… but I can't defend myself.

The dejection changed to determination, grey eyes hardening. The wolf was out to play.

"Well, I thought you and your retinue would be off on some other adventure or something… and yet you're stuck with us, valonqar."

Baelon rolled his eyes at the teasing lilt of his big sister. "Believe me, I'd much rather be somewhere else."

Rhaenys grinned and shared a sidelong look with Aegon. "Admit it, Jon, you love us and love spending time with us… or at least me. Your most beautiful and favorite sister."

Jon shook his head. "Gods, it's like looking at uncle Oberyn if he were a woman."

"Uncle Oberyn is awesome, so a compliment." Both her brothers laughed at that.

They were wandering the battlements, duties finished with and simply taking in the sights before they had to bathe. The eldest children of King Rhaegar Targaryen, two from Queen Elia and one from Queen Lyanna, though it truly mattered not. All were their parents, and such forged a close bond regardless of petty teasing or jealousy. Rhaenys had Asha - and Arianne when she was present - as her closest friend. Aegon had Loras Tyrell whenever he was around, finding himself rather drawn to the dashing, newly ordained knight. And Baelon had Robb as a companion and both Daenerys and Sansa as… his other halves.

And yet it oft seemed the three of them shared something unexplainable.

"Well, I don't know about any of you but I am looking forward to fostering with my dear uncle Ned," Rhaenys grinned, stretching her arms high in the air - showing off her ample bust in such a form-fitting wool dress. A guard just happened to be looking, and the young man went red as he stared. Rhaenys merely giggled and batted her eyes, making the guard fluster.

Baelon snorted. "I think you planned that."

"Mayhaps I did, mayhaps I didn't," giggled Rhaenys.

"Aye, just like Oberyn," mused Aegon. "Myself, love uncle Ned and my cousins that I do, I'd much rather a warmer clime for myself."

"Sounds like Dorne is up your alley then, with muna's family."

"Mind you, I'd rather not deal with Quentyn's bullshit and my other uncle giving me that appraising stare, like I'm some prize stallion that simply cannot shape up."

Baelon shook his head. "Egg, haven't I told you this before? You're my big brother, the one whom I always looked up to. You're a dragonrider for Tessarion's sake! There is nothing uncle Doran or Quentyn," Jon blanched. Apparently their cousin hadn't given off a good impression on any of them. "Can do to change that."

It was things like that where Aegon felt truly guilty over the jealousy felt towards his brother. Superior and more cherished though he was, Baelon loved him and admired him. Such was quite heady stuff. Egg merely ruffled his hair. "Thanks, valonqar."

"I'd go to Dorne if I were you. Maybe then you'd find a girl to take your maidenhead… or a lad."

Aegon sighed deeply. "Of course, Rhaenys, of course."

"As for me, I really want to see what sweets the North can provide. I mean, there was a reason kepa and muna fell in love with muna - I have some ideas considering the noises I hear from their bedchambers."

Jon immediately clamped his hands tight over his ears. "Gods, Rhae!"

"Too much information!" Egg did the same. "Shut it!"

"Oh, you're just babes." Rhaenys hid her own shudder at thinking on it though. Her parents were all objectively gorgeous, so it wasn't like her imagining Walder Frey making love… but they were her parents! "Whatever, I do want to do all the adventure stuff muna did here. Maybe fight some Wildlings."

"You really want to put yourself in harm's way?"

Rhaenys stared incredulously. "Hello? Taught by the Red Viper, has a dragon, will soon have a direwolf once Sprinter gives birth. I can handle myself."

"I… no, you're right, Rhae," Egg afforded. "You can easily fight. Just don't expect uncle Ned to let you." That certainly let out some sails in her wind. "I heard muna is gonna have Margaery stay with you as your lady in waiting."

"Margaery?" Rhaenys didn't know what to think of that. "She's nice… but annoying sometimes."

"I could say the same to describe you, Rhae." Jon got a punch in the arm for that. "But I think it's for both your benefit. Lord Garlan wants his sheltered sister to get some new experiences and I think Robb's already in love with her."

Egg's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Aye, looks at her like uncle Ned looks at aunt Cersei."

Thinking on it, Rhaenys could only nod. "Stark and Lannister married to Tyrell and Hightower… you can't really do any better if no Valyrian blood is involved."

"Wait, does this mean I'm finally off the hook?" Egg asked. Olenna Tyrell's attempts to marry into House Targaryen were legendary, as were Mace's.

"If she was to marry any of us, it would be Baelon here as the Crown Prince."

"What? Margaery? I mean I like her, but…" Jon shook his head. "No, not for me."

Rhae patted his head. "Decisive. I like that." Aegon only glowered, reminded again of the fact - not that he wanted to marry Margaery either, but…

Their sibling moment was interrupted as someone called from below. "Hey, if it isn't the kid beaten up by a girl!"

In the middle of a cluster of other Winterfell boys was Theon Greyjoy, grinning a stupid smirk. Obviously trying to impress people. Baelon glared at him even so. "We can go at it any time, Greyjoy!"

"Oooh, gonna send Daenerys to fight your battles for you." That caused a chorus of laughs.

Jon was about to leap down when Egg put a hand on his shoulder. "He's not worth it, valonqar."

"Yeah, Asha will give me shit for days if you beat her brother half to death." Still burning with ire, Jon trudged from them to the Godswood. Fuming all the way. The gall of that jackass. Where does he get off badmouthing me, the Crown Prince and youngest knight since Daemon Blackfyre! One day he would wear Aegon the Conqueror's crown, sit on the Iron Throne, wield Blackfyre. The likes of Theon Greyjoy had no right to insult him.

Scuffling in the snow drew his attention. "Oh." It was his cousin Rickard, eyes wide. "Forgive me, your Grace. I'll leave you to your solitude." He began to walk away.

Jon realized this was a perfect time and called out. "Rickard, wait." The boy stopped. "Come back, cousin, we should talk." Tentatively, Rickard turned and looked elsewhere than Jon's eyes. Not from malice but from… was it fear. The boy crossed his arms. Jon sighed. "Cousin, I'm sorry."

That seemed to shock Rickard. "What?"

"I was… made aware of how you felt after our game earlier. If it caused you hurt, then I offer apologies."

"You… you need not do that, your Grace…"

"Don't call me by my title when we are alone. We're family." He moved to pat Rickard's shoulder, smiling at him. "You may call me Baelon or Jon… or cousin if you wish."

Rickard managed a tiny smile. "Alright… cousin." He began to melt his ice. "I… I was honored to play Torrhen, but your words… they harken to all the looks I get and the insults, especially from Joanna."

Jon sighed. "Joanna means well… she's just a little haughty. My kepa…"

"The King?"

"Aye, the King, he says that Aunt Cersei was that way when she was young."

"Sometimes I think my stepmother wants to toss me to the Night's Watch and be done with me."

A snort. "Come now, what stepmother would wish to do that, however vile they were?" Growing up with Elia always a hug, kiss, or comforting touch away, Jon couldn't comprehend it. "In fact, she was receptive to my idea to foster you with your great-uncle Brynden."

Rickard's eyes widened. "You mean in the Crownlands?"

"How does that sound?"

"I… I… I don't know what to say. Your idea? Why would you do that for me?"

"We're family, why wouldn't I?" Suddenly Rickard hugged him, which Jon accepted. It felt wonderful. "In fact, mayhaps I treat you to something that Joanna never experienced before."

"What?"

"A dragon ride."

Leaning down, Lyanna Targaryen scooped up the snow that gathered in a drift upon the ground and threw it up. Giggling like a little girl. "Gods, I missed it up here." Twirling around to the appreciative stares of her wife and husband, her face lit up. "So refreshing after life in that fetid hellhole."

"Fetid hellhole," chuckled Rhaegar. "Yeah, that pretty much describes the capital. Though I'm sure Elia would prefer a warmer clime."

No longer did the Dornish Queen find her teeth chattering as it was the first time, but her thick coat over a thick woolen dress and fur-lined hat belied her discomfort with the chill of the North. "Forgive me if I would prefer Dorne, or even Dragonstone."

"Come now, you love being here with us, curled up by the fire," grinned Lyanna, her brows wriggling. "Though I'm sure you only enjoy Dorne cause of the nude swimming in the water gardens."

"Oh, I greatly enjoyed that," laughed Rhaegar.

"Lechers, both of you." Elia shook her head, but a smirk danced on her lips. No true Martell could turn down such deliciousness, and Elia was above all else a true Martell - if overtly dignified compared to someone like her brother and goodsister.

Kissing Elia on the temple - mindful of the many that were watching and not wishing to cause too much of a scene by doing what she truly wanted to do with her tongue on her wife - Lyanna did not notice her goodsister and niece approaching till Elia made her aware of it. "Daenerys, Sansa," she greeted with a smile.

"Hi, brother, goodsisters," Dany said cheerfully, her radiance on full display. Before it had been merely adorable, but now… oh, what a beautiful, bewitching woman she would be. "Sansa has something to ask."

Rhaegar raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Of all of us or just one?"

Dany grinned. "Just one, Lyanna."

Eying her husband and wife curiously, Lyanna nodded. "Loose away, niece."

Normally Sansa was poised and confident, but now there was a shyness to her more reminiscent of Myrcella. "Um… it's fine, Aunt Lya."

"No it isn't!" Dany glared incredulously. "Go on, ask her."

"Dany…"

"Tell her now or I will." She nudged Sansa hard, insistent with that dragon temper of hers. The three monarchs would've been amused had they not been so curious. "It'll be fine, do it."

"Alright, alright," Sansa huffed. "Um… Aunt Lya… is it possible for you to… um… give me the same training in arms as you give Dany?"

Lyanna blinked. In truth, she hadn't expected that. "You wish to learn swordsplay? What brought this on?" Ned and Cersei are not going to like this… Ride like a Dothraki though Sansa was allowed to do, crossing over into combat lessons could be… problematic for Lya's overprotective brother and goodsister.

Sansa shifted her feet nervously. "Dany can fight… Rhaenys is a prodigy. I know Alyssa can ride a dragon better than most, and look at you." She gestured to Lyanna. "The She-Wolf, renowned the Kingdoms over for her ferocity and prowess. I… I can't help feel like I'm not measuring up where I should."

Smiling softly, Lyanna leaned down to kiss her forehead - much easier to do than with Dany since Sansa was promising to be a tall beauty. "You are a sweetheart."

"All she is saying is true, love," Elia concurred, while Rhaegar leaned back and just took it all in - he learned long ago not to involve himself in the conversations of women. "But I am not sure swordsplay is for you."

"Why not?"

"Yeah, why not?!" Whereas Sansa looked worried, Dany was indignant.

Lyanna shook her head. "No, not swordsplay… forgive me, Sansa, but you don't have the knack for it. A willowy grace that simply is incompatible with swordsplay." Sansa was slender and soft, nothing that could be toned up but not the athletic power of Daenerys or Rhaenys. At her dejection, Lyanna shifted. "But, I think there is something you could be very good in. Archery."

"Archery," spoke the two young ladies in tandem.

"Aye… both on foot and from a horse, and while I can start your lessons you'll need someone else to continue them. What do you say?"

"Do it, Sans," begged Dany, touching her arm affectionately - not missed by either Queen as a familiar type of gesture.

While a wolf and not a dragon, Sansa was decisive and beamed. "You're the best, aunt Lya!" With that, she leapt into her arms and hugged her tightly.

The scene was however interrupted as a gust of wind washed over Winterfell. One that ruined the ladies' hair and even knocked an unsuspecting Dany into the snow. It wasn't a natural wind, though. Above the sky was blotted out momentarily as the magnificently dark form of Valyrax soared low above Winterfell, quickly banking around in a flourish of maneuverability. "Damn it, Jon!" Dany cried before Sansa helped her up. "I'm gonna get him back for that!"

Rhaegar laughed. "Our son seems quite intent on showing off." He half expected Rhaenys or Alyssa to be up there on Nymerion and Stormfyre respectively. Had Daenerys not been here with them, the King would be shocked not to see Syrax dancing and weaving up with Valyrax. Then though, he noticed someone else astride the dragon's back. "Who's that with Baelon?"

"Who's what?" Elia peered. "Wait, there is someone with him."

"Someone's with Baelon?" Robb at that point showed up, trailed by… Margaery Tyrell of all people. He cupped his eyes to block out the glare. "Yep… I think that's Rickard."

"Rickard?" Lyanna's smile slowly formed. "I guess our son is a sweetheart after all."

Elia chuckled. "Never said he wasn't, Lya." While she still believed Arthur, it heartened the Dornish beauty to see Baelon's apology play out in real time.

With a roar, Valyrax vaulted up into the cloudless day. "Where's he going?" Sansa asked.

"Dunno," replied Dany, riveted to the dark shape of her nephew's dragon climb higher and higher. Growing small and faint. "I've never gone that high…"

"None of us have, Dany, not without reason…" Rhaegar had a sinking feeling. A feeling consummated when a tiny speck seemed to fall from Valyrax as the dragon leveled off. His face went white. "Oh gods…"

Lyanna's eyes widened, and somehow she simply knew… "Jon!"

Hearing her, Elia's knees gave out, Robb shouted, Dany and Sansa both screamed, while Rhargar was shocked into silence. The Crown Prince was plummeting from Tessarion knows how far up. Arms extended and simply diving. No… no… no… no!

Hooting, Rickard still on his back, Valyrax with his greater speed plunged after Jon until his back was level to the Prince. Slowly Baelon reached out and grabbed onto the spines. Valyrax leveled out and roared in triumph.

Heart pounding out of his chest, Robb pressed his hand on his breastbone, breathing hard to calm himself. "He's safe… thank the gods…" He then noticed Sansa trembling on the ground, not even looking up as she held Dany close. "Sans… he's safe." Reaching down to shake her, she tensed but looked up. "He's alright."

"You… sure?" Her teeth were chattering.

"Aye, you and Dany can look up." Shaking Dany, she didn't move. "Did she faint?"

Sansa, still shaking, looked her over. "Um… I think she did." Not that Sansa could blame her. Jon… you stupid stupid… stupid reckless idiot!

Rhaegar held Elia tightly, themselves shaking, but Lyanna was standing there. Rooted to the ground. Mind whirring at a mile a minute.

All leading back to one conclusion.

A/N: What did Jon get into now?

Wish me good fortune as I get through medical school, and be sure to check out "A Dragon's Daughter."