Chapter 54: A meeting between 'brothers'

Jon

He walked towards the pavilion that had been raised for the occasion. Around it stood thirty guards from either side. Their best fighters, often nobles, had been chosen for the task. He saw the Smalljon, Owen Norrey, Lucas Blackwood and many other friends who had taken up positions in full armor.

He himself would accompany Robb inside. Robb had been adamant about this. In private, he had even joked that "there should be at least one true Targaryen at the meeting". He had struggled on what to do with his heritage today. Of course, he couldn't announce it to anyone or do something visible. Yet, he had still wanted to do something. In the end he had attached Rhaegar's sigil ring, which had been in the package gifted to him by Lord Reed, to a golden chain around his neck. The chain was well hidden beneath his tunic, but it helped strengthen his resolve to meet the man impersonating his death brother.

His clothes were in the colors he had grown used to wearing. His tunic was black with a running direwolf in white stitched upon it. To top it off, he wore grey trousers. The outfit marked him clearly as a member of House Stark, while still showing him as different.

Under it, he wore a light chainmail vest. Better to be safe than sorry, Robb had told him. At his side hung his sword. It was made of basic Northern steel and was kept in a modest scabbard. However, it had done his job so far. There would be a time where he could wear some of the stuff they had captured from the Red Keep, but now wasn't it.

As they neared the pavilion, he could make out the enemies' guards. An interesting bunch of Dornishmen, mercenaries from the Golden Company and two knights in the unmistakable armor of the Kingsguard. Both looked young and he wondered who they were. The Kingsguard were supposed to be some of the best fighters in Westeros, if those men had received white cloaks they had to be fierce opponents in the coming battle.

When they walked inside, he could see the company the Pretender had brought with him. The Pretender had proposed that both he and Robb bring seven advisors. His brother had cringed at the use of that number again. In the privacy of their rooms, he had sworn to him he would end the zealous use of the number seven in his kingdom. When the war was over, he would abolish every institution or custom that took take place with that number. He knew Robb wasn't the only Northman to be annoyed by it, but they couldn't do anything for now if they didn't want to anger their allies.

Robb had nonetheless proposed to bring eight advisors, supposedly because of their large number of allies. The enemy had accepted this. Robb had chosen him to be his right hand. From the North, he had brought Lords Umber and Karstark with him. From the Riverlands came Ser Brynden and Lord Mallister. From the Vale came Lord Harrold and Ser Andar Royce. For the Stormlands, Lord Davos was in attendance.

The company had been thought out well. Robb had been adamant that the forces left behind should be under capable leadership. As such Lords Morrigen, Bracken, Bolton, Mallery and Lady Mormont were left back in control of the camp, together with Ser Wyllis Manderly and Ser Morton Waynwood.

He looked over the advisors brought by the Pretender and heard some of the older lords in their company gasp. They were looking upon a plump, bald and somewhat effeminate man. He was dressed in rich silks of purple and pink. On his face was a knowing grin, as if he knew more than anyone else in the room.

"Varys", he heard the Greatjon spit out. Similar mutterings could be heard from Ser Brynden, Ser Andar and Lord Mallister. This surprised him. They had noticed the absence of the eunuch in the Red Keep but hadn't expected him to be here of all places.

The spymaster simply smiled and greeted them all by name in response. When his own name was called out he saw the Pretender flinch, but nothing was said. The Pretender looked majestic and every inch a descendant of Valyria. His eyes were dark pools of blue, which seemed to shimmer violet as the light hit his eyes. His hair was pale blonde, almost silver and of a beauty he had rarely seen before. His face was symmetrical and he possessed high cheekbones.

His father must have looked similar like that and it was understandable how his mother could have fallen for it. He knew he had his father's lean built and the fact that grace came easily to him was because of him. He had also stared in the looking glass for hours these last months and in very specific circumstances his dark grey eyes seemed to take on a purplish shine. Save for those things, he was all Stark.

When he looked deeper, he tried to find similarities between the young man in front of him and himself or Rhaegar, but in vain. The Valyrian ancestry was clear, but nothing clearly marked him as his father's son. He did notice the sword hanging from his hip and looked at it in awe. He recognized the handle out of the drawings from the books. It was Blackfyre, the famed sword of Aegon the Conqueror. The sword had been lost with Aegor Bittersteel when he had founded the Golden Company, it seemed the Company had given it to Aegon to support his claim. It was then he finally looked upon the other advisors the Pretender had brought with him.

To his left stood a man around forty years of age, his face was leathery and clean shaven. His hair was mostly grey with a red shine to it. He wore a tabard with two combatant griffins on it. This was unmistakably Jon Conninton. On the other side stood a salty Dornishmen, dressed in the orange of House Martell with a cloak of pale red silk flowing from his shoulders. The man's eyes looked up at him and he smiled a dangerous looking smile. Oberyn Martell looked just as menacing as the stories told and he noted himself to be wary of the man.

Next to Lord Connington stood another man, dressed in the finery of the Golden Company. The older man looked portly, with a big round head. Still, he seemed to carry an important function among the sellswords. Next to him was another sellsword, a big-bellied hulk of a man. He was missing his left ear and most of his right one. Across his arm he wore over a dozen golden rings, proving his long-term presence among the sellswords.

Next to Oberyn Martell stood another man, around fifty years of age. He had blond hair that had almost completely turned grey. His blue eyes were observant and alert. His tabard proudly showed the sigil of House Yronwood, arguably the most important Dornish house after the Martells.

Lastly, two others made up the company. These made for some more commotion, as the first scoffed at the presence of the 'Onion Knight' in their presence. His sigil betrayed him as Lord Fell, a Stormlord that had been notably absent at Bronzegate. Next to him stood an old Reachlord, who Ser Brynden quickly identified as Lord Cockshaw. It seemed the Pretender had managed to gather some more Westerosi support, limited as it may be.

This explained the reports they had received from their scouts this morning. They had reported the enemy army to have around twenty-eight thousand men. It was known Doran Martell had sent some fifteen thousand Dornishmen north under his brother and the Golden Company probably counted seven to eight thousand men here. Some of their men were still stuck on the Stepstones, while others were garrisoning castles or had been lost in the campaign or storm.

The other five to six thousand men had been unaccounted for, but now they knew where they came from. Lords Fell and Cocksaw would only be the major lords joining the Pretender, a score of minor lords and landed knights from the regions probably followed their lead.

Robb and the Pretender stood in front of each other and seemed to be sizing each other up. Whereas the Pretender wore but a simple golden band on his head, seeing he hadn't officially been crowned yet, Robb wore his Winter Crown, made of iron and copper in the liking of those of the Kings of Winter.

For a moment, none of them said a word. Finally, Robb spoke up. "I propose we all take a seat?" All nobles nodded and took their places, he himself taking his seat at his brother's right side.

'Aegon' spoke up next. "Let me introduce you to my advisors, my lords. To my right is Lord Jon Connington, my Hand of the King. To my left is my uncle, Ser Oberyn Martell and my Master of Laws. Next to my uncle is Lord Varys, my Master of Whisperers. Next to my Hand are Ser Harry Strickland, captain-general of the Golden Company, and one of his senior officers, Ser Franklyn Flowers. On the other end are some of my loyal lords, Lords Fell and Cocksaw."

Robb silently nodded at each of them, before introducing his own company. "To my right is seated my brother, Jon. To my left I have the pleasure of having the company of Lord Harrold Arryn. Next to my brother you can find my brother-in-law Lord Harrion Karstark, followed by Lord Jon Umber and finally Lord Davos Seaworth, Regent for Her Grace Queen Shireen Baratheon. Next to Lord Arryn, you find Ser Andar Royce, the heir to Runestone, Ser Brynden Tully, my great-uncle and Lord Jason Mallister."

None at the table could deny the influence those names brought with them. Three of the Great Houses were present, as well as the Regent for a fourth. Besides that, you had representatives of Houses Royce, Mallister, Karstark and Umber, all major vassals in their respective regions. The only true outcast at this side of the table was him, but Robb had been adamant he should be here. More so, he had practically forced him to take the seat as his right hand.

Not so long ago, he would have dreaded the idea, now he just resigned himself to the plan. He had long accepted his fate as a bastard, but it seemed his brother never had. Things had gotten worse ever since he had promised him a lordship back home. Every day he was being told to start acting like a lord, as he would soon be one. He had tried to do so and even though he still didn't feel entirely comfortable around some of their Vale and Stormland allies, he had long since been accepted by the nobles of the North and Riverlands. As such, his anxiousness had lessened over time.

"Welcome to all of you, especially Lords Stark and Arryn." The Pretender greeted, clearly trying to take the initiative in the conversation. However, his first words couldn't be more of a mistake.

"It's King Stark to you and anyone else who asks." The Greatjon grunted out angrily. His blunt comment seemed to surprise some at the other table, while Ser Oberyn looked on with interest.

"Ah, yes your so-called … independence." 'Aegon' tried to answer, not wanting to lose control of the situation.

"So-called? The Lords of the North proclaimed Robb Stark our king over a year ago beneath the Godswood of Riverrun. We swore our oaths before our Gods. We won't go back on those." Harrion answered, to the agreement of Lord Umber.

"As did the Lords of the Riverlands, not an hour later. None of us will stray from our oaths either." Lord Jason Mallister added, clearly with the support of the Blackfish.

Robb bowed himself closer to the Pretender. "As you can see, my Crown is not here for show or the use of mere titles. I did not take any throne myself, nor did I stake any claims. I was proclaimed king by my lords and people. A duty and burden which I took upon me and have been carrying out for well over a year now. I will not turn my back on the trust they showed in me, nor will I shy away from my duty. For that, I must ask you to address me by the correct title, lest you anger my vassals further."

To all at the table, it was clear what was happening. While the Pretender had wanted to take charge of the situation and prove himself above the other, Robb had placed himself right next to the man in the conversation instead of below him. It had been a handy ploy by Harry and Lord Jason to proclaim Robb like that, as it deflected any notion of his brother wanting to protect his crown for power.

This clearly angered the silver-haired man, as well as some of his advisors. "You can't be serious, Lord Stark? Ever since the coming of Aegon the Conqueror, the kingdoms have been united. You wish to undo that unity all on your own? You think you can hold all of the other kingdoms off by yourself?" Lord Connington spoke up.

"Aye, Aegon the Conqueror united these kingdoms, that much is true. However, the men at this table undid all that already. Besides, I am not alone. To the right over there, sits Lord Davos Seaworth as I mentioned before. He is the Lord Regent for Her Grace Queen Shireen Baratheon, Queen of the Storm Kingdom and the Narrow Sea. Next to me sits Lord Harrold Arryn, who has sworn never to bow down to a descendant of Aegon the Dragon ever again. On top of that, I can tell you I have complete control of almost three entire kingdoms myself. My kingdom runs from the Wall down to the Blackwater River. From the gold rich hills of the Westerlands to the mountains of the Vale and Cracklaw Point. I am not alone and what is done cannot be undone, Lord Connington."

Both Lord Davos and Lord Harrold seemed to appreciate his comments well enough, as they both nodded along with his statements. His brother had skillfully bypassed the question of the Vale's sovereignty without anyone noticing it, a thing he would congratulate him on later.

"What is this talk about crowning yourself? I am Aegon Targaryen, the son Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. I am the one true heir to the Iron Throne, the ruler of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. The Seven Kingdoms are mine by right. By proclaiming yourself king you attaint yourself a rebel and a traitor to the laws your ancestors swore to uphold!"

Robb simply grinned at the outburst. "The laws of the Iron Throne cannot be broken, as the Iron Throne is no more." This brought many a chuckle at their side of the table, all remembered the hauntingly beautiful scene of the Red Keep going up in a great green flash.

This finally broke the patience of many on the other side with many starting to shout. "It is true then that you blew up the Red Keep?" The Red Viper asked him, except for Lord Varys the only one who had remained calm.

"Aye, the time of dragons is over." Robb simply replied. After this, him and the Dornishmen locked eyes for a few seconds before the latter started to smile. "I like this one, I will enjoy fighting you on the battlefield to see if you will still be so bold then."

"One of the benefits of being the King in the North is the fact he can have me fight for him, viper." Lord Umber replied, an equally vicious grin on his face. These men were ready for battle, that was clear. All of this was a simple formality for them, a procedure they had to get though before they inevitably crossed their blades together. However, not all shared that same feeling.

"What gave you the right to do so? My family gave peace and prosperity to these lands. We unified Westeros under a single banner and purpose. How small-minded can you be to want to go back to a time where everyone fought each other?" The Pretender simply called out.

At that moment, he could see it in his eyes. This man had been brought up on fairy tale stories of the greatness of the Targaryen legacy. He truly believed he was doing the people a favor by pursuing his claim. Realizing half the continent detested you must be a shock.

At the remark, Robb turned dark. "Peace and prosperity, you say? Which peace are we talking about then? Let me see, are you talking about the vicious Wars of Conquest of your namesake, where he burned thousand-year old noble families to ashes? Or are you talking about the uprisings of the Faith Militant because half the continent despised your incestuous customs? Maybe you are talking about the destructive civil wars your family fought out, while using the nobility of Westeros as your pawns, such as the Dance of Dragons or the multiple Blackfyre Rebellions? Or are you talking about the senseless wars of conquests on the Stepstones or in Dorne your supposed kin fought out? The latter brought an end to my kinsman Rickon Stark, throwing my house in disarray for two generations. However, that was nothing compared with what my father had to endure under the Mad King's reign. He lost his father and elder brother to that sick maniac's torture, while his sister died all alone in the mountains of Dorne. A House that has ruled in the North for nigh on eight thousand years, almost wiped out because of the raving delusions of an incestuous madmen. Is this the Targaryen peace you speak off?"

It hurt him to hear Robb speak about his ancestors like that, but he knew it to be true. He thought back on what his brother had told him when they had discussed it among themselves months before.

"You are as much a Stark as you are a Targaryen Jon, if not more. All those cruelties were not just inflicted by your kin. They were also inflicted upon your other kin. You are the descendant of both sides, as such you can share no blame. You are not only the grandson of the Mad King. You are also the grandson of Rickard Stark, who he brutally tortured and murdered. You can choose which side you want to be on, Jon. You can decide your own destiny."

When he replayed those words in his head, his mind calmed. Robb was right, he could choose who he wanted to be. He had chosen. He was of the North. He had chosen to follow the ways of his mother's kin and would continue to do so.

The Pretender looked shocked at his brother's sudden outburst, but Robb wasn't done yet. "Besides, what is this Targaryen prosperity you speak off? Is it old men getting fat in a capital so corrupt no honorable man could ever survive it? is it a capital from which you could smell the shit and piss from miles away? Or is it the Night's Watch deteriorating so badly that the lands of the Gift and those of House Umber and the clans now get regularly raided by wildlings? Maybe it is old men in the North going hunting in the woods in the middle of winter to never come back so their sons and grandsons might have enough food to survive winter? That all the while those same men are still getting fat in their capital? Tell me, Aegon, what is it you mean by the peace and prosperity your family gave us?"

The Pretender stood there with his mouth wide open, clearly in shock. Many of his advisors, even Ser Oberyn, seemed taken aback by the anger and viciousness with which Robb had condemned the Targaryen dynasty. Even Lord Arryn seemed to get slightly uncomfortable from it.

Many in the Seven Kingdoms had forgotten how heavily the Starks had suffered under Targaryen rule, or they hadn't cared. Robb hadn't even spoken of the slight of breaking the Pact of Ice and Fire or how they had been forced to give away parts of their lands with the New Gift, let alone how they had to deal with Wildling invasions and the Skagosi uprising all on their own. However, the grim face of the Greatjon told everyone how no one in the North had forgotten about what had happened to their lord and his heir in King's Landing.

"The time of the Dragons is over. Your throne and keep are gone, your capital is -almost completely gone and the Dragonpit is being demolished as we speak. Westeros doesn't want your peace and prosperity. You can keep it." His brother ended his argument, spitting the last sentences out as if he didn't even want to possess those words on his lips.

Seeing as no one on his side replied anything, Lord Varys spoke up for the first time. "Now come, that doesn't seem entirely truthful even to you, Lord Stark. Under the Targaryens, White Harbor grew into a powerhouse, the rite of the First Night was abandoned, a unified code of law was made to ensure equal treatment of all men from all regions, conflicts between regions were discouraged and I can go on. It is true some unnecessary conflicts were fought, but aren't you a bit hard seeing that you have been fighting a war for over a year now yourself?"

Robb simply looked at the eunuch. "My father was right about you, Lord Varys", was all he said.

"Oh, and what did he tell you about me?" The spider responded, his little smile never wavering.

"That Robert should have taken your head instead of keeping you on as spymaster. It seemed he should have listened, seeing that you once again surround yourself with Targaryens. Although I must admit I had expected to find you with Daenerys Stormborn, not this Pretender of doubtful ancestry." Robb answered.

"Doubtful ancestry? Are you calling me a liar?" Aegon almost screeched. The sound he made had more resemblance to that of a crow than that of a dragon.

Personally, he had enough of this whole spectacle. This imposter was making a laughingstock of his father's kin. As much as he didn't want to be like any of them, they still deserved better than a silver-haired boy thinking the world belonged to him because some lord told him so and a bunch of dubious exiled mercenaries called himself king.

"Aye, that's what we all say." He spoke up. Robb looked at him with a frown but didn't signal him to stop speaking. "You come here to Westeros, saying you are the dead son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, but who is to say you speak the truth?" He looked upon all the men on the other side of the table.

"An exiled lord, long thought to have drank himself to death?" He said, as he looked to Lord Connington. "A spymaster, known so well for his lying and scheming that they called him the spider. However, much more damning is the fact he has now changed sides two times and supposedly betrayed Rhaegar's plans to change the country to his mad father Aerys at Harrenhal. Very believable that he would not only save, but also raise and now support his son." He continued, as he looked upon Lord Varys with his eyebrow raised. "Or maybe a bunch of fourth or fifth generation exiles, known to have fought House Targaryen at every step to place a Blackfyre on the throne." He ended, whilst looking at the members of the Golden Company.

"For a man with an already shady claim at best, you do surround yourself with dubious figures. The only man that gives any credibility to your claim is Ser Oberyn Martell there." He said while lazily pointing at the Dornish knight. "Although even that can be discredited by the news you have announced that you will marry his niece. It doesn't matter if you are his nephew or not, the next generation will have Martell blood flowing through them all the same."

The small smile he got from the Red Viper told them all they needed to know. That was exactly how Doran Martell was eying this situation and it was laughable that the young man in front of him didn't realize that.

The silver-haired man got another reaction, however. It was clear that he was already fuming with rage, but after loud support for his statements by many of the lords on his side the Pretender cracked.

"Who are you to dare to call my legitimacy into question? You, the son of a traitor by some random camp follower during the War of the Usurper?! Your father didn't even care about your mother long enough to recite her name, let alone care for her after stealing you away. You dare call my parentage into question?" Aegon fumed, his head turning red which gave quite the comical view in contrast with his silver hair and deep blue-violet eyes.

He simply scoffed at the outburst. There might have been a time where it would have deterred him, but that was long gone. This boy was more than likely the son of some Lyseni whore, used by the fabrications of men like Lord Varys to serve their purpose. He had withstood the ire of Lady Catelyn and Lord Edmure Tully, had proven the Riverlands nobility wrong and now let them into battle. He would not cower for this man who dared to befoul his father's memory even further.

"To your information, I know perfectly well who my mother is and she was no camp follower. Besides that, the only thing that my father ever betrayed were his marriage vows." He scoffed, looking the Pretender deep in his eyes.

"I have to take no comments from you. Everybody can see that you are no son of Rhaegar. You pride yourself on having his looks, but if you look closely you don't resemble him at all. Your eyes are violet, looking almost deep blue, while his were a dark shade of purple. His build was lean and graceful, yours not so much. It's very convenient you just happen to arrive in Westeros when the continent is at war to reclaim 'your birthright'. If you ask me, you are either the son of a Lyseni whore or some distant Blackfyre relative, the latter would at least explain the presence of the Golden Company at this table."

At this the silver-haired boy threw back his chair, while reaching for the Valyrian steel sword at his hip. However, he was quickly restrained by the two veteran warriors at his side. "The presence of that sword only helps the latter theory, as no Targaryen has wielded that sword in battle since the Young Dragon's idiotic attempt to conquer Dorne. You might not be a complete mummer's dragon, but you are no true Targaryen either."

By now, both sides were clearly on edge. All had their hands on their swords and the tension in the room was almost visible. The only man in the room without a weapon bowed himself towards him and asked. "You said you know who your mother was, Jon Snow. I am very interested to hear who and what she was, if she was in fact no camp follower."

He exhaled a bit too loudly at that. Of course, Lord Varys had caught on to the hidden meaning behind those words. Robb looked at him and signaled him that he would take over now, but he looked back into the eyes of his brother. He was done hiding. He knew what kind of person he was and what he wanted to be. He was no incestuous lunatic, he was of the North as much as Robb was. Yet, he couldn't keep running away from where he came from. Robb's mother was of the Riverlands, yet nobody had doubted his worth as a Northman since he had proven himself in battle. Why would he have to be different? Why did he have to hide? Why did he have to suffer this impostor befouling his heritage, whilst looking down on him in the process?

His brother looked in his eyes and recognized what he was going to do. "Are you sure?" He whispered. He nodded in his response. Silently, he asked permission from his brother, best friend and king to go ahead. Robb looked long and hard in his eyes before nodding slightly. Both turned back to Lord Varys, who was looking with interest upon the scene between the two brothers.

He wasn't the only one, as almost everyone was looking at him once again. He looked over the faces of his friends and war companions and sighed. He closed his eyes for a second and opened them again, looking straight into the eyes of the eunuch.

"My mother was Lyanna Stark. She died in the mountains of Dorne, giving birth to me at the end of the Rebellion. She was no ordinary camp follower, but the daughter of a Great House. One so beloved, her brother fought a Rebellion partially to get her back." He responded seriously.

The eyes of the eunuch turned very big at that, as did those of Connington and Martell. The Pretender didn't realize the full meaning of his words yet, as he was still too consumed by his anger. "Ha, you dare insult my ancestors for being incestuous, while your own brother slept with his sister to produce you? You're the incest bastard of a traitor." He laughed cruelly, but nobody joined him. Everybody had heard the story of how his father had supposedly abducted his mother, most had realized what it meant if Lyanna was his mother.

He looked hard into those blue-violet eyes, before responding. "Eddard Stark was a great man, who I'm proud to be able to call my father. He took me in and raised me as one of his own. He called me his bastard son and bore the shame of that for fifteen years just to save my life. Alas, he was not my real father, but my uncle." He paused for a second, letting the words he would now speak sink into anyone who could hear it.

"My real father was Rhaegar Targaryen. He never abducted my mother. They planned to run away together after Harrenhal and so they did. They married under a Weirwood tree on the shore of the God's Eye in front of the Old Gods and repeated the ceremony with a Septon on the morrow. Whether you accept the marriage as legitimate or not, it doesn't matter. I am the last living child of Rhaegar Targaryen and the possible heir to his claims. Not you, who just washed up from Essos a few months ago thinking you could rule it all just because somebody falsely told you your father was a prince."

Even before he had stopped speaking, the whole pavilion turned into a shouting match. Completely chaos erupted, as men from both sides started shouting at him. From his right, Harrion looked hard at him and then at Robb. He finally asked him under his breath. "Do you have proof of this?"

"Aye, I have the marriage contract and a letter from my mother. It was gifted to me by Lord Reed, who kept it safe for years." He responded honestly. His friend seemed to accept this. "Do you plan to claim any of it? You were there when the Red Keep was blown up."

"I don't. I don't want a crown nor any lands south of the Neck. I swore an oath to Robb, I intend to keep it. Any descendants of mine will do the same." Harry just silently nodded at that, deep in thought but seemingly satisfied for now.

Around them the shouting hadn't stopped. The Greatjon screamed and Lord Jason Mallister and Ser Andar Royce seemed enraged as well. Not a surprise, seeing as they both lost kin when his uncle Brandon had ridden to King's Landing to demand his sister back.

One who was notably silent was Lord Connington. He seemed to whisper something to himself. Only after looking at him for a few seconds, it dawned on him what he was mumbling. The dragon must have three heads. He looked deep into the eyes of the exiled Stormlord. "Aye, apparently he wanted me to be his Visenya. Instead, he got another son. My mother named me Jaehaerys Targaryen, after the Concillator."

This completely enraged the Greatjon, as that had been the man who had taken the lands of the New Gift from his family. Shouting was heard all around and it looked as if both sides would soon come to blows. Guards stormed in from both sides and he saw how Smalljon was struggling to hold back his father from tearing anyone close to him to shreds. Robb was trying to keep his vassals calm, while ordering the guards to surround both of them and protect him from friend and foe alike.

"Do you have any proof of this?" Lord Varys asked. "I have their marriage contract, signed by them and their Septon. I also have a letter from my mother explaining the situation." He responded, loud enough for all to hear this time.

"Bah, documents that can easily be forged." One of the Golden Company men dismissed him loudly, as all men that remained seated stood up.

"I also have this." He spoke up, as he pulled the chain from under his tunic. Hanging there was the sigil ring of Rhaegar Targaryen. "It was the only thing Rhaegar ever left me." He pulled it from the chain and slid it on his finger, waving the engraved three-headed dragon for all to see.

This seemed to stun not only Lord Varys, but Lord Connington and Ser Oberyn as well. The last one started to rage how that "filthy dragon prince had once again humiliated his sister", while running out of the pavilion.

Lord Connington just looked at him in shock, clearly trying to find something of Rhaeger in him. Lord Varys quickly came to his senses and tried to salvage the situation. "The Starks have become mad. First, they declare their independence and now they try to put one of their own on the throne. Good lords, this meeting is over. We will show them our right on the field of battle tomorrow." He put his arm around the Pretender and walked him outside, most of the others following.

Only two lingered, old Lord Cocksaw took a long hard look at him, before turning back and following the much younger Lord Fell, who had already left. That once again left Lord Jon Connington. The man seemed paralyzed, as he looked from him over completely, only briefly looking away to glance at his father's ring. After a long while, way too long, he realized where he was and quickly left the tent.

This didn't ease any of the tension, as Robb grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him out of the tent. Around them was a ring of Stark household guard, as most noble guards were being told by either Lord Umber or Lord Mallister what was going on and were reacting to it in much the same way.

After they got a safe distance away from their meeting place, the Greatjon couldn't hold it in anymore. He threw his giant son to the floor and stomped towards him. He barely looked at the three guards moving to stop him. He swathed them away like flies, before grabbing him by the neck.

"Was it true what you said there boy?" He screamed in his face.

"Aye, it was." He said, as evenly as possible. Not an easy thing, seeing as the looming figure of the head of House Umber seemed ready to snap his neck at any moment.

"You're telling me I lost two of my cousins at the damn Trident for naught? That Rhaegar didn't abduct Lyanna. That Ned lied to all of us of who you were and the situation in the South just to be able to crown that damned Robert?"

"No, no, not that." He struggled to get out, as the hand on his neck was squeezing to tightly. At that point, Robb had drawn out Ice and held it to the Greatjon's neck. "Let go of my brother, Lord Umber, now!"

The Greatjon loosened his grip on him but didn't pull away and ignored their king entirely. "Well then? Speak, you thrice-damned fool!"

"Rhaegar didn't abduct Lyanna, but my uncle never knew that until after the Rebellion when he found my mother in Dorne. He and Lord Reed are the only ones who knew. They did lie to everyone about me though. Lord Reed told me my father, euhm Lord Eddard, was afraid Robert would have had me killed otherwise." He got out.

"Hmmn, Ned was probably right about that. You say he didn't know when we marched south?"

He nodded in response. "Good, couldn't have forgiven Ned if that was the case. And you? Have you marched south with us all this time to try and lay claim to that ugly throne of yours? Why the hell did you let us blow it up then?"

"No, no I didn't know myself I swear." He blurted out.

"How come you know now then?" The angry giant just scoffed.

"Lord Reed told me in Riverrun, before the battle of Atranta. Before that I had no idea, I swear it on the Old Gods."

"So, you mean to say that at the battle of the Whispering Wood, our whole campaign in the Westerlands, when I followed your command, you knew nothing of this? You were just following His Grace down to save Ned and later avenge him?" The Greatjon spat in his face. Robb had slowly started pressing the greatsword in the man's neck, but he didn't react. Not even when a few drops of blood came from under the blade. Guards tried to restrain him, but he just bodied them away without letting him go.

"Aye, of course. That's what I'm still doing. I don't want any of it. I don't want the throne, the titles, … I don't want any of it! I was there when we blew up the Red Keep just as much as you were!" He gasped.

"Aye, you were." The giant lord responded, squinting his eyes. "If that's not what you want, what do you want? Your father came from these lands, why not try to rule them?"

"To live in the North in peace! I want to go home, the North is my home! My mother was of the North and I was raised in Winterfell and White Harbor all my life! Robb promised me a keep and lands of my own. I want to marry a good Northern woman, father some legitimate children and live in peace. Maybe see them play with the children of my siblings, uh cousins. I'm not interested in anything south of the Neck, I just want this war to be over so I can start a life in the North far away from the taints of bastardry or dragons. I renounce any claims to any titles or lands not given to me by my brother."

This seemed to somewhat placate the Greatjon, as he loosened him some more. "And your descendants?"

"I will renounce any of their claims as well. If Robb finds it necessary, I will have them swear it to him and his sons too when the time comes." He quickly answered. He had thought about this long and hard. This was what he wanted.

The Umber Giant let go of him and turned to Robb. Only now seemingly noticing the blade. The Greatjon just lifted his eyebrow at Ice cutting into his flesh. "Will you behead me for this, Your Grace?"

"If you manage to calm down, leave my brother alone and stop hitting my guard, I might not." Robb grunted out.

"Very well, as you command, Your Grace." He responded, as he let some of the guards restrain him. One of them was his own son. Seeing how Smalljon's whole tunic was dirtied by mud he had thrown him in, the Greatjon laughed and apologized himself.

He turned back to Robb. "How long have you known?"

He decided to answer for his brother, as he did not want any quarrel to happen between him and his vassals because of him. "I told him after the battle of Atranta."

"Aye, he did." His brother took over, gesturing that he would take care of this himself. "I told him that he could do as he wanted, but that I would not bow to him. I gave him the same answer I gave the Pretender. You gave me my Crown and I accepted it, I will not betray that trust or shy away from its duties. In the end, Jon decided for himself he did not want the throne. All I did was keep some books and heirlooms from the Red Keep aside to give to him when he received his own lands in the North." His brother explained without flinching, as he put Ice away on his back.

"So, what now?" Lord Umber responded at last, after a moment of silence.

"Now, we prepare for battle against our enemy tomorrow. Nothing has changed, Jon still serves me. We have known for months, only your knowledge has changed. He knew when he fought with us at Atranta, we both knew when we defeated the Lannisters at God's Eye and we both knew when we took King's Landing and later on the Red Keep. You followed his commands then and you will follow them again now if I tell you to do so." Robb replied with a finality in his tone.

The Greatjon looked long and hard at him, before nodding and stalking away with his son. He heard him saying something to himself in passing like, "I need to have a good word with Howland tonight." Most of the nobles of his guard had heard the exchange. They looked weirdly at him, but no one said anything. In fact, most Northerners seemed to follow the Greatjon back to camp. At last Harrion stepped forward. "I think we can use this to our advantage, Your Grace."

"How so?" Their king replied.

"Have you seen the looks on the faces of the enemy? Most of them believe Jon, despite Varys' best efforts to discredit him in the end. Some, like Lords Cocksaw, Fell and even Connington have joined this cause because they think they serve the Targaryens or Rhaegar's memory. Despite what they believe this Pretender to be, they will not enjoy fighting Rhaegar's son." Harry explained.

"What do you propose?" Robb sighed, these inner squabbles clearly taking a toll on him.

"That Jon rides into battle as a Targaryen. Let them see they are fighting the son of their lost hero. It will break their resolve before the battle has even started. It will make routing them that much easier when the moment comes." The young Lord of Karhold told them.

"It is a good idea." Robb mused. He turned towards him. "Jon, the armor, … would you consider it?"

He took a deep breath and nodded. "I will make sure it's ready by the morrow."

"Good, now I must get back to the army. I have a battleplan to explain to all of you." His brother ended the discussions.

This is it for this chapter.

Robb and (F)Aegon finally meet. They talk about the destruction of the Red Keep and Robb's vision to end the Targaryen legacy. Some of their advisors square up against each other.

Finally, Jon confronts the man he believes to be impersonating his dead brother. He reveals his ancestry and all hell breaks loose. Robb's own vassals are mad, (F)Aegon's vassals start to doubt everything and the talks are quickly ended. Jon (or should I say Jaehaerys) must now prove himself once again in the coming battle.

I hope you liked the dramatic reveal. Jon has come a long way from the shy boy he was. He has learned to stick up for himself and someone impersonating his dead brother, while also claiming the greatness of the Targaryen legacy and some Gods-given claim to Westeros was more than he could take.

Thank you all for the support!

Fannic

Reviews:

- Kuman: The clause to ferry the debt is a good one. Let us say it happened in the final (not shown) negotiations.

Robb has by now looted a lot more than those 350k from the Westerlands. In addition, the Crownland houses will also have to pay small prices for their Lannister loyalties. He has looted fortunes of silks, jewels, heirlooms, silver, … from King's Landing which he will sell to the highest bidders for profit. He has acquired the vast wealth of House Frey, as well as the smaller amounts of wealth of Houses Goodbrook and the Frey vassals.

He is counting on a lot more spoils from the Westerlands and looting the coffers of the Golden Company in the future. Add in war reparations from Dorne etc. and Robb will easily be able to pay 350k without a problem. He is thinking of building and fortifying keeps worth millions of dragons and is worrying about that. Besides Braavos might dislike giving credit to newly established kingdoms as they are very volatile and insecure in their existence (in the beginning).

- Kezz 1: Thank you so much! I try to write as much as possible, but I am very busy right now.

- Supremus85: Thank you! They are still bickering amongst themselves on what to do.

- Alek Sands: Both: The name will be changed. The city will be shrunken down (big parts demolished) and a new smaller castle to protect the mouth of the Blackwater will be erected (instead of the blown-up Red Keep). That is Robb's plan anyway, it will take decades to entirely complete it and much can still go wrong.

- Force Smuggler: Thank you so much!

- Rebfan90: Thank you!

- George Cristian810: Thanks! As long as you don't actually want to occupy Dorne, it isn't too hard to force them into negotiations if you defeat their army outside of their homeland.

- J.E.P 1996: Thank you so much! I've really been enjoying the worldbuilding element and honing my skills in writing it. Glad you appreciate it so much.

- MasterOfDragonsGod: You're welcome.

- Kingmanaena: Thank you, glad you like it!

- Foxy-Floof: You're absolutely right, but the 60 years was not Robb's proposal. Robb was happy to get as long with a possible extension. In negotiations you have to give and take and all in all it was a good offer.

- Galwidanatitud: Thank you so much for the kind words!

- Hank Jones: Ramsey is a cowardly psychopath. He "fights" from the back and uses trickery, which allows him to flee time and time again. However, his power is broken now. I haven't kept him as a villain to use later, more as a reminder that some people go with a bang and others fade away slowly. Life isn't fair, some good people die while trying to do good whilst some cockroaches don't seem to go away whatever shit they try to pull in life.

- Greatazuredragon: Exactly! This agreement will also spread wealth over the North more equally, with "poorer" Houses like Hornwood, Glover, Karstark, ... making money instead of just the Manderlys. It will also create a demand for better infrastructure in the long run. House Stark will benefit directly (Wolfswood) and indirectly (taxes/tolls).

- Guest: No, because Robb's point is that all regions are equal and independent. He is willing to pay a lot more just to show that the North has equal sovereign value as the Reach or Westerlands. Besides, Robb will pay his due with loot stolen from the others anyway. You're welcome!

- Guest2: Thank you for the kind words. In canon Roose provided Ramsay with men to watch him, he himself grew it with ruffians and bandits. They raided Bolton lands, not other houses. Karhold and the Dreadfort are 260 miles apart, I'd hardly call that "in the region". However, when Roose knew Robb was closer and the Starks started to notice he took action. No, after washing his hands of it all, he kept Ramsay safe/alive but he didn't have any men under him for years. Only when Domeric had left and Roose marched south was he given power once more.

The outright offer for a betrothal was never made. Lady Barbrey tried to scheme towards it, but Sansa was soon betrothed to Joffrey ending that whole idea prematurely. Besides, in my mind Roose was always the opposite of Tywin. Tywin cared for his legacy and family name, Roose only cared about his own personal power. Marrying Dom to Sansa would have given his son and grandchildren power but not him so he would be less thrilled than you might expect. On top of that, would he have liked a Stark girl reporting back to Ned/Robb running half his household at home?

Here, Ramsays's dealings could also come to light. Domeric was kept away from the Dreadfort half the time because of Ramsay and all the things might have come to light either way, especially after making Ramsay castellan. On top of that, Tywin would have offered even more than in canon. More riches, help against the other Northern houses, possibly the hands of the real Sansa AND Arya, … The scheme was arguably less dangerous than the Red Wedding, they had tens of thousands of "allies" in front of them, at the Twins they were basically alone. If Dom hadn't betrayed his father, they would have likely won the battle. In history, people turning in the midst of battle was a fairly common occurrence.

Still, thank you so much for the compliments. I hope I gave you some more insight in the Bolton plot.