Jaeron Targaryen

The Northern Camp near Ashemark, 300 AC

The sun was beating down on him. The sheer heat from it bordering on uncomfortable as there was no breeze to break it away. Skin not liking it for obvious reasons. Even though he is a Targaryen, he was always going to a Northerner at heart. In the North, heat like this was unheard of. Heck, he doubted if it was normal anywhere it was that bad. Milky white skin which had slowly turned brown from being outdoors so much from travelling through the Riverland's and the Westerland's, but where it was brown before there was now a faint tinge of pink. A soft itch breaking through as he scratched the area in question and looked around him.

The sand was as soft as freshly fallen snow. So pale in colour it would pass as white to many. Not to him though, he could see it was just a very pale cream in shade. Kneeling down to pick up a handful of it and enjoying the warmth that came from it as he slowly opened his fingers to let it sift through and land on the ground once again. Where was he? They weren't close enough to the coast for there to be sand, and the only place he had seen sand as such was the two times he had gone to Dorne. But he couldn't be in Dorne, could he? Had Rhaegon gripped him in his talons like he had done the Mountain and flown there through the night? If his dragon had done so, the camp would be in a massive panic. He had to find a way back.

Jaeron let out a loud whistle and waited a few minutes. Hoping to see a flash of silver or blue but none came. Nor was there the feeling of wind in his face as either dragon was landing and flapping their massive wings. Fear beginning to settle in now as it became obvious that wherever he was, he was stranded. Closing his eyes for a few moments as he took a few deep breaths and trying to work out what to do. Firstly, he needed to find out where he was. Second, he needed to find out how he got here. Lastly, he needed to find out how to get back to the camp. Looking around him again to take in what was in front of him. A couple of sand dunes, trees that he had never seen before, and pale coloured sand everywhere.

He jumped as he felt something touch his foot, looking down to see what it was and once again only seeing sand. Grumbling under his breath as he leaned down to feel around and feeling scales. Digging deeper and noticing it was cylindrical in shape and with a sharp tug grabbed what it was and yanked it free. The snake hissing in anger and barely dodging out the way before it struck his face. Thinking quickly by using his spare hand to grab it by the neck so it was locked in its position and seeing a small drop of what he assumed to be venom dripping from one of the bared fangs. Walking over to one of the trees and placing it on one of the branches before promptly running back a few metres in case it struck at him again. Deep orange eyes burning deep into his soul.

So he walked.

Walked for what felt like hours. The heat bearing down on him to a point where it wasn't even uncomfortable any more. Skin that had been tinted pink earlier now a bright pink and already noticing blisters forming where his skin was exposed. He passed nothing other than trees and sand. Not a town, not a castle, not even so much as a person. A few times he had stopped and whistled in the hope either Rhaegon or Lyrax would hear but it was of no use. He was alone. In a place he knew nought. His throat was beginning to become parched and Jaeron knew if he did not find a water supply soon he would not last in this heat for much longer.

If only he could fine some type of plant, because at least then he knew he would be close to a water supply.

He walked. Again for what felt like hours. Heat blaring down on him and desperately trying to ignore how painful his skin was as it was blistering open now and how dry his throat was it was almost painful to even breathe. For a brief moment, his fingertip touched one of the forming blisters before grimacing in disgust as it burst and a sticky whiteish-yellow liquid trickled down from it. Already knowing doing that would be no use to him. Where in seven hells was he? Had it been minutes? Had it been hours? Had it been days? Had it been longer? Was this what it felt like to lose ones mind?

"Open your eyes, young dragon."

Immediately, he stopped. Forcing himself to stop breathing so as not to make a single noise and look around him. Trying to find out the source of who had spoken to him. But there was no one. Not above, not ahead, not behind, not to the side, and not from above. He was going insane, that much was obvious. But was there a way out of this madness? Jaeron sure as hell hoped there was as he did not want to be stuck here. Finally, the sight of something other than sand and sky was seen. Something black in colour. Leaning down to see what it was and watching the rotten petals fall to the sand and disintegrate into dust upon impact. Fingers reaching over to gently touch one of them and feeling it dissolve in his palm despite apply no pressure at all to the delicate thing. A flash of something caught his attention then, frowning and begin peeling away some of the petals to try and find out what it was. A pale icy blue causing his breath to hitch in his throat.

Blue roses. Winter roses. Confusion whirring in his head because these only grew in the extreme climates of the North. It was not possible for them to grow in sand, so how had this gotten here? Another question on top of the dozens he had spinning in his head and only getting more anxious as time went on. There only was one thing he could do- walk.

His throat was steadily getting worse and his body was now showing its ailment. Limbs aching from all the movement and lack of food and water. Even something small like a plum or an orange or a lemon. Something juicy that would both parch his thirst and fill his complaining belly. Looking straight ahead after what felt like forever and seeing something on the horizon. Frowning deeply and narrowing his eyes in order to see better before stepping back in shock. Trees. Something other than desert. He almost jumped for joy at the find. If there were trees there had to be water as trees could not survive without water. Mustering as much energy as he could to make the small distance. From there, he would have three options. Find a small valley, find a patch of mud, or hope there was a rain and he could find something to catch it with.

The transition from sand to soil was staggering. Immediately feeling his feet cool down immediately and sighing in relief. It did little to relieve the pain of his blistered skin but right now, he would take any form of relief. Mayhaps if he was lucky and found a river he could jump right in for a few moments. A twig snapping caused his head to jerk, stalling once again as he tried to listen. No other sound came. Shrugging to himself and simply believing it to have been a figment of his imagination. Walking further ahead and almost crying as a stream came into view. Kneeling down and cupping a generous amount and letting his lips sit there for a moment until they no longer felt painful from how dry and cracked they were before drinking the water. How many gulps he took, he could not say. Now, if only he could find some food.

"Open your eyes."

That was the same voice as before, the same words as before. Once again looking around him but seeing nothing there never mind a person. He had to be imagining it, there was no other explanation. Whistling loud again in the hope either Rhaegon or Lyrax were here but neither dragon came. It was strange for neither to come when they were called, only realising that now that he wasn't solely thinking on how dry his throat was from lack of water. Was he really so far away that they couldn't hear his call or feel his confusion through the bond? Just how deep was the bond? Little was written about dragons and their riders, his ancestors very much keeping the knowledge to themselves and letting precious few in on their secrets. More twigs snapping, and rustling of leaves. Looking to the tree beside him and noticing a large branch. Reaching up to grab it and hoist himself up as a precaution. He wasn't waiting for very long, a single wolf running through the forest and what appeared to be a cat dangling from its mouth. A cat with fur as black as the night sky missing numerous patches of fur.

Jaeron held his breath until both were out of his sight before slowly climbing back down, suddenly more aware of his surroundings than he was previously. At least the mud he landed on provided a semi quiet landing so as not to attract anything. Deciding then to follow the stream upwards to see where its source was so he could try and bathe. Perhaps that would soothe the burning on his skin because it was bordering on agonising now. Very much feeling like patches were peeling away a little at a time and someone was stood beside him with a knife carving deep. Once again, he walked. For hours seemingly considering it had now gotten so dark he was using the reflection of the moon on the water in the stream to find his way. If there was a wolf already, who knows what else was in this forest. Boar? Bears? Mayhaps even shadowcats? There was no way to know, and this only added to the trepidation that was dangerously close to tipping over the edge. But he couldn't let that happen.

It was nearing dawn given the fact his surroundings got a lighter and had a dim orange glow before he reached the source of the stream. A river. One he recognised somewhat but couldn't place exactly where it was. Like he were trying to remember somewhere he had been as a young boy with only the memory of what it looked like. Seeing fish just under the surface of the water from minnows to trout and was that a salmon? It was gone quicker than he could blink so it was difficult to say with certainty if he had seen what he thought he had. Eyeing the bright silver scales of the trout and looking for a sharp stick that he could skewer one with to curb his hunger. He'd managed to ignore it until now, but his body was writhing in pain from the lack of food. He needed to find something and he needed to find it soon.

Shuffling broke the silence again. Stopping where he was and listening carefully. Whatever it was wasn't large, sighing in relief. Leaves moving from the opposite bank of the river as a handful of what looked like otters swam into the water and exiting with a trout. Watching the fish batting with their tails as they slowly died but then the otters jumped back inside and came out without the fish. What? This happened a few times in a row and he was only growing more confused. Trying to remember his lessons with Maester Luwin on these types of things to see if he could figure out their behaviour. It was all for nought though. A large shadow enveloping from above, one he recognised and looking up wondering whether it was Rhaegon or Lyrax. The happiness dissolved into fear though as he took in the colouring. Orange, white, and bronze. As far as he was aware he was the only person who had dragons, so where had this one come from? He had to run. Abandoning his mission of looking for a sharp stick and taking off, watching the dragon burn the beasts that were toying with the fish. He wasn't running for long before he felt the transition of mud to stone. Looking down for a split moment to see reddish-brown stones. A courtyard perhaps?

"Open your eyes."

There was that damned voice again.

"Who are you?"

Now, he didn't care about being seen. He wanted to know what was going on because this was not normal. Was this a dream? It had to be, he knew that now. Pinching his arm hard to try and force himself to wake up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, dreams often are just as beneficial. Especially to someone of the blood."

"Who are you?"

This time the question came out haggard and with an angry lilt behind it. Having no more patience for whatever this was.

"You will know my name in time, Jaeron Targaryen. But not now, for you are not ready."

Anger bloomed even more but he managed to prevent himself from yelling in frustration this time. Taking a few deep breaths to calm down and looking around to see where the damned voice had come from. Again, no one was there. Was it all in his head? If it was, was this the first signs he was losing all sense of reality and sinking into the madness that plagued a few members of his House?

"Dreams are fickly, prophecies are fickly. Sometimes they come true, sometimes they do not, sometimes they don't come true until hundreds of years later. It is why the Doom happened, young dragon. Valyrian's of Old had dreams that they would find something deep within the fourteen flames, but they got greedy and had no patience. For what they were to find was not ready to be uncovered from its cage yet. But they dug all the same, and they paid dearly for their lack of patience."

Eyebrows furrowed at this, turning to where the voice was coming from despite there being nothing but air there. Words in the wind, that was all this was.

"How do you know this? What happened is lost- "

"It is only lost if you don't know where to look. Open your eyes, young dragon- "

"I don't know what that means. It doesn't explain what Daenys dreamt though- "

"You will know in due time. As for our ancestor, no one knows for certain what she saw in her dream. She wrote all her dreams and visions in a book called Signs and Potents and it was lost long ago. Scholars who are interested in the highest mysteries believe she saw something in her dream and that something spelled danger for all. With this she convinced her father, mother, her fathers other wives, and her brother to leave with their dragons. She's not the only one who dreamed. Aegon dreamed of a winter that would destroy all and this was what made him decide to seize the Seven Kingdom's- to unify Westeros as one in preparation. Viserys I dreamed a boy of his direct line would be the one to put an end to it all. Aegon V dreamed dragons would wake from stone again and like his Valyrian ancestors tried to speed up the process. Where do you think Aemon got your eggs from?"

None of this was making any sense. None of it. This was the first he had ever heard of such things.

"Because Targaryen's kept their dreams and visions to themselves. Those who wish to tear us down or turn us into puppets for them to manipulate for their own agendas. There are many of them. Lurking in shadows, lurking in direct midst, lurking in streets. Everywhere a Targaryen goes, many follow. All it takes is one bird to fly for it all to come crumbling down like the way the Tower of Joy was dismantled after you were born. Alas, the rats will always be there. Some can be trained to our bidding, some can be friendly, and some are wild. Be wary of those in grey robes."

At least he had one answer, where the eggs his granduncle had given him came from. Summerhall. A castle that had been built as a resort for his family to go when they needed time away. Whilst the heir was always Prince of Dragonstone, the second born was always Prince of Summerhall. Not anymore though, as the castle had burned down with many members of his family and a Knight who came from nothing within. His father was born during the raging inferno. Ser Duncan using his strength to heave Princess Rhaella outside as her labours began.

"You need to run, now. Before anyone sees."

That was a new voice. A woman's, Dornish it seemed if the lilt was anything to go by. Walking towards where he had heard it but once again seeing no one. A spider scuttling along the corridor before disappearing from view.

"I can't leave you- "

"You need to run. There is no way I can get out of here, but if you are quick my children may be spared. Run."

"But how? They will notice them missing!"

"I have something arranged, but it won't go ahead if you don't run. Take her, T has my youngest. Go far away. Qarth or Yi-Ti or Lys or Tyrosh or even bloody Asshai. Leave!"

His eyes opened at this, breath heavy with shock as he desperately tried to get it under control. Closing his eyes for a few moments as if willing himself to continue dreaming. This did not go to plan though, his body was simply not allowing it. Groaning deep and moving to sit up and immediately stalling as dizziness overcame him. Spotting a flagon beside the bed and taking a long drink of the cool water that had likely been placed by his squire in the early hours. Pouring a small amount into the palms of his hands and running the coolness over his face as he came back to reality. Only once he was certain he wouldn't topple over did he stand up, the dream spinning in his mind.

What was that?

He'd dreamt before, of course. Dreamt of being Ghost running through woods and tearing into the throats of his next meals. He'd had silly dreams when he was a child. But this felt different to him. It felt... real. Walking over to the makeshift table in his tent and grabbing a sheet of parchment and writing down what he had dreamt exactly. Being stuck in a desert and almost being bitten by a snake, otter-like creatures surrounding trout. Then there was the dragon. Had Daenerys hatched her eggs? If so, was the one he had seen one of hers? Was it a sign that she was coming to Westeros? Then there was the voice, and only then did some of the words sink in. Wish to tear us down. Not House Targaryen down, us down. Then the voice of that woman seemingly demanding someone to take her eldest child far away from wherever they were.

Shaking his head, Jaeron waited until the ink had dried before folding it up and placing it in a fold of his boot. The last thing needed was for those with him to see he was having dreams of some kind. Whilst they had come around to accepting him now, he wasn't stupid. The Karstark's were gone now which was a huge chunk of their army. If they don't meet with the Reach armies in time then they were fully exposed to much larger armies. Four thousand men was a lot to lose in a single night. That was something to be discussed later.

Today they would begin moving out of the Westerland's. Whilst it would be a sound plan to continue deeper in, there was a high chance of boxing themselves in too. They needed a strong position and what stronger position did they have other than Riverrun nearby? It would be nothing short of idiocy to take Casterly Rock with their current numbers. They would be able to regroup, work out the losses fully, wait on Reach reinforcements to arrive until a meeting place is decided. Ser Arthur was waiting outside as was Ser Brynden again, the latter giving him a tight lipped smile as he was currently caught between vows and family. He hadn't known the man for long at all, but it was clear he held his family vows dear to heart. Duty before honour, and family before duty. Robb and Catelyn were his family- Jaeron was not.

It had been a few days since Robb had executed Lord Rickard Karstark over the murders of Willem and Martyn Lannister. Sons of Lord Kevan Lannister. Whilst not wholly important as far as the House's line was concerned, it did put an even larger target on his back which was the last thing he wanted. Tywin Lannister is not a man to take even the tiniest slight against his House with stride.

"I see Edmure is back from his quest."

"Aye, my nephew arrived back not long before you did, your Grace."

"Has he spoke on what he has found?"

Ser Brynden tightened his lips at the question, which only caused his innards to turn to mush.

"I think it best you hear it from my nephew yourself, your Grace."

Jaeron accepted this, not wanting to prod the man further. There was a strain already between them, the last thing he needed was to make that strain even bigger. Kingsguard are loyal to the King and are sworn to give their lives for the royal family if need be. He spotted Olyvar then, his squire going white in the face before running over his way. There wasn't much of a difference in age between them, Olyvar being nineteen and him nearing his eighteenth name-day.

"Your Grace, a raven has arrived. From Kings Landing."

This immediately peaked his interest. Taking it and noticing it was sealed with a red lion. Anger welled within as he knew who had written this.

"Call a council."

Olyvar ran away to do just that, seeing a few people looking at them oddly but he paid them no mind. This way he could speak to Edmure at the same time. Given Ser Brynden's facial expression when prodded, the man did not come across good news when he was sent out on his quest. It didn't take too long to organise a council, all remaining Lord's and Ladies standing around a table with a map strewn around it. Pieces carved into dragons and lions by some of the soldiers who carved wood as a hobby which came in very handy in figuring out their places. They had almost half of the Westerland's, the North, half of the Riverland's, and the Reach on their side. Eyes glancing over the Vale, Crownland's, Stormland's, the Iron Islands, and Dorne for a moment. Sooner rather than later he's need to do something regarding the Vale, they had the best Knight's in Westeros and so far had experienced no bloodshed. The longer they remain neutral, the more chances Tywin has to invade and get even more numbers. Opening the letter by breaking the seal and reading it aloud.

To the bastard Jon Snow.

I am hereby inviting you to come to the capital and to pledge your fealty to me with terms. You will announce the farce you are spreading regarding yourself is nought but a lie, you will confirm your father acted against the laws of succession by denying me the throne on the basis of a vile lie. I will legitimise you as Jon Stark and name you Lord of Moat Cailin and will recognise Lord Robb Stark as Lord Paramount of the North. Come and bend the knee to the rightful King of the Seven Kingdom's. I am to be wed to your half-sister Sansa, and I believe she would be delighted to have a second sibling with her. I recall Rickon Stark was hovering over Ser Barristan. We are a member short on the Kingsguard, perhaps the position can be kept open until he is of age.

Joffrey Baratheon,

King of the Andal's, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdom's and Protector of the Realm.

"He can't be serious, surely?"

Anger flooded through Jaeron at the words as he read them aloud. Scanning them again and gritting his teeth tightly together. Not only had the little shit made it out the man he called father was both aiding someone in usurping and was a liar, he was lying about having his sisters. That he was referring to him as the name he had grown up with was not a surprise, he expected it. They were playing the same game with one another. He was a King raised as a bastard, Joffrey was a bastard raised as a King. Neither of which wanting to let go of their titles given everything that has happened. It was the last one that angered him the most. Whilst the words didn't say it directly, he saw the true message as clear as a bright blue sky. He was demanding Rickon as a hostage to keep House Stark in check. Jaeron may be a dragon, but he was just as much wolf. And wolves defend their pack with everything they can.

"If Joffrey thinks I am going to accept these terms, he has another thing coming. Draft a response. Stating I will accept him going into exile. He will be given sufficient gold so long as he doesn't step foot. I will recognise Tommen and Myrcella as true Lannister's and will have both wed to people loyal to our House. They will lay no claim to the Iron Throne themselves nor will children of theirs. Lady Cersei will take the title of Queen Dowager as decreed by my ancestor Queen Alysanne and I will grant Lord Tywin a seat on my council. And a hostage of all House's declared for Joffrey will be sent to House's loyal to our cause."

Many people opened their mouths ready to interject but with a single stare they all shut up. They wouldn't accept it anyway, they all knew this. Lions are prideful creatures, they were either going down together or were going down with one hell of a fight. Wars are not won with fanciful words. They are won with battles strategies, alliances, and careful politicking.

"Lord Edmure, I have not had a chance to speak to you. How did your mission go?"

The mans cheeks were tinted red in anger at the terms he had stated, that was a given, but he answered the question calmly.

"The mission went well, but I bring bad tidings, your Grace."

Jaeron nodded to give him permission to speak. It was quiet for a few seconds before he spoke;

"They're all abandoned."

White noise. Like his ears were ringing after being close to something that was incredibly loud. Feeling like something had landed on his chest and was crushing it in.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"They're abandoned. Everything we seized. The Golden Tooth, Oxcross, the Crag. It's like they were never there in the first place."

Hearing it a second time didn't make the news any less shocking.

"How in seven hells does a large army close to a town and two castles just out of nowhere become abandoned? They can't have just disappeared in a puff of bloody smoke. Surely they left some sort of trail as to their whereabouts?"

Edmure simply shook his head at the question, confirming he found nothing. There weren't many people left when they succeeded with said battles, but it was still multiple people. Some of which potential heirs to their fathers or older siblings. Had they died? No, that didn't seem likely. Possibilities spinning in his mind at a speed that was almost dizzying but he had to keep his composure. These were his people, and his people needed to see him as strong in difficult situations.

"Pyron, gather all wargs and have them begin scouting to try and find out where they all went. If there is no trace of them this means it was either an inside job or they've been gone for weeks whilst we've been sitting here believing they're firmly out of the fight after being defeated."

The Crannogman nodded his head and ran to find the others. Reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he stared down at the map. They can't have come west or in House Westerling's case- east, because they would've crossed their way. They can't have gone south because the Reach had now declared for his cause. They can't have gone north for similar reasons. All colour draining from his face as realisation set in.

"The Riverland's. It's the only place they could've went."

There was a good minute of silence after this as his words sank in. People bending over the map to try to disprove the claim but they couldn't. The only House that could was the Westerling's but they had the added bonus of being close to the shore. They could've gone to Lannisport for all they knew. But the others routes there was blocked off as were all other routes.

"They've gone to join Tywin and Joffrey."

Lord Jon Umber swore loudly at this, picking up one of the lion sculptures and throwing it towards a tree with such force it splintered into dozens of tiny piece on impact. This was not good. Not good at all. With them remaining out of the fight it caused their backs to be covered on most sides. Yet they hadn't been, they had all left completely undetected. For how long had they been exposed on all sides and been completely none-the-wiser?

"We need to get out of the Westerland's immediately. Otherwise we are toys for the lions to play with and tear apart piece by piece."

It took them hours to pack up everything they had, readying all of their horses too and strapping tents and other belongings to their saddles. How had he been so stupid? How had he allowed himself to become so comfortable that a swearing of neutrality would mean they would remain neutral during the war? As Arthur said, there was no use dwelling on past mistakes as they had already been made. He had to find a way to get out of the predicament they are currently in.

"How many men were sent to Duskendale?"

"Two thousand, your Grace."

He nodded at this, quickly calculating the numbers in his head. A little more than fifteen thousand not taking the Reach armies into consideration as they were still regrouping and wouldn't be able to join for at least a month. Of all the times for the Karstark's to up and leave it had to be now.

"We need more men, and we need them soon- "

"My father has a few thousands more men, your Grace."

He turned his head towards Olyvar who spoke the words like they were simply fact.

"Your father sent all his men- "

"Only what he could spare. He will not send more until the agreement is fulfilled."

That fucking weasel. Anger bloomed even more within his gut at this. He'd been played like a damned fiddle.

"We will ride for Riverrun tonight, we will not stop until morning. We need to make as much ground as possible. From there I will ride for the Twins to get the remaining men. Ser Brynden, do you know of any Vale House's who would perhaps join my cause?"

"The Royce's may."

The voice broke the panic surrounding them. Seeing his aunt atop her own horse. He was still angry with her for her actions despite agreeing with her. Jaime Lannister was better alive and free than dead. With luck they would find his whereabouts so they could capture him again. He was the only thing preventing House Lannister from raining down their entire fury on them.

"Robar Royce died in the aftermath of Lord Renly's death, Lord Yohn will be aware of such by now and he will want justice for his son."

She made a point with that, nodding her way to have her draft a letter for the man when they stopped their current march. A sudden gleam surrounding them as Rhaegon flew overhead, the pale glow of the moon in the night sky bouncing off his mirror-like scales.