Davos had taken on the role of consoling Shireen while Jon slept. Not that Jon lacked sympathy, but in this life, Jon Snow was a stranger to Shireen Baratheon. Offering solace to the girl might have seemed peculiar to most, especially to Shireen herself.

The journey back to the ship had been arduous, with only Jon and Davos manning the oars. It took two gruelling hours of back-breaking rowing. Jon couldn't fathom how the smuggler was able to row from the ship to the cove alone. He could only assume that Davos had far more experience in rowing than he did.

By the time they climbed aboard the ship, Jon was exhausted. Sleep eluded him during the night, and all he could think about was collapsing into his bed. When he eventually woke, it was almost midday. The sun was shining, reflecting against the water like sparkling diamonds, while a refreshing breeze filled the air. The ship sailed under full sail, promising swift progress. Jon noticed Davos approaching him.

"I imagine you're relieved to have left that shithole behind, your grace," Davos remarked.

"Please, when it's just you and me, call me Jon. I'm not 'your grace' until I wear a crown," Jon replied.

"Nevertheless, I bet you're still glad you left that shithole," Davos said with a smirk, and Jon chuckled in agreement.

"If it were up to me, I'd never step foot in that place again," Jon remarked, closing his eyes for a moment to savour the sea breeze before turning to Davos. "But I don't have a choice. I was born to the wrong man. I suppose I shouldn't wallow in self-pity." He glanced back at the cabin where Shireen was sleeping. "I have a loving family. I'm married to the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros, whom I adore."

"And you'll get to live in a grand castle," Davos interjected.

Jon wrinkled his nose. "Give me Queenscrown any day. Though I suppose I'm not Lord of Queenscrown anymore. I'll be heading straight for Winterfell. A northern council is being convened."

"Are you sure about that?" Davos inquired.

Jon nodded. "Sansa mentioned she would write to Lord Stark to arrange it around or just before Joffrey's wedding day." He fell silent, gazing at the faint line of land on the horizon, wondering how Arya was faring during the wedding. "Do you know of our whereabouts?" he asked.

"We're making excellent time. We passed Rosby some time ago. If the weather continues to be in our favour, you'll be arriving at Dragonstone by dusk," Davos replied, a smile playing on his lips.

"We could drop anchor and remain aboard until dawn," Jon suggested, not keen on the idea of rowing back to the island alone in the darkness. He didn't fancy his chances.

"I can row you there if you like," Davos offered. "I understand not wanting to row alone in the dark, especially if you're not accustomed to it. Could be quite risky, if you ask me. But I'm no stranger to this island, and I've navigated these shores a thousand or more times. Besides, someone needs to row the damn boat back to the ship," he added with a chuckle, and Jon joined in.

"I suppose it is best if we head for White Harbor as soon as possible. We can't be sure if Shireen's disappearance has been noticed, although the wedding might serve as a distraction."

"What is happening at the wedding?" Davos inquired.

"Chaos, followed by more chaos if everything goes as planned. We need to seize the opportunity while the Lannisters are vulnerable. They have their schemes, but we've thwarted them," Jon explained, just as footsteps approached from behind, diverting his attention. He turned to see a youthful-looking Shireen.

"Ser Davos, if you would excuse us. I'd like to speak with my rescuer," she said.

"Of course, my Lady," Davos replied with a nod. Jon was accustomed to Davos addressing her as Princess, and it seemed she was too if the puzzled look on her face was anything to go by. However, her status had changed, and she was now simply a Lady. Jon sensed she had questions.

As they watched Davos walk away, hands clasped behind his back, as was his habit, Jon broke the ice. "Did you rest well, Lady Shireen?"

"It was more comfortable than the cell, if that's what you mean. But with my mother and father facing execution today, I didn't rest well," she confessed.

"If it's any consolation, my Lady, I doubt they'll be executed today. Though I fear it's only a postponement," Jon replied.

"Why?" Shireen inquired.

"I'm waiting for news from the wedding. That's all I can say for now. I doubt they'll check your cell until at least tomorrow, by which time you'll be on your way north," Jon explained.

Shireen frowned. "Who are you?" she asked.

For the first time, Jon hesitated. He didn't want to deceive her, but was it too soon to reveal the truth? Opting for a middle ground, he replied, "My friends call me Jon," hoping it would satisfy her curiosity.

"Your friends call you Jon, but is that your real name? If it were, you'd have said 'My name is Jon.' But you didn't. Why?" she pressed.

Jon realised Shireen's keen perception left no room for evasion. "Alright, it's true. My friends call me Jon, and that's the name I was raised with. But it's not the name given to me at birth by my mother."

"What name were you given by your mother?" she persisted.

Knowing that honesty was the only option with Shireen, Jon replied, "My birth name is Aegon."

Shireen wrapped her cloak tightly around her to ward off the chilly wind. "Aegon is a Targaryen name," she observed.

"Aye, it is," Jon agreed.

She studied him for a moment. "You don't look like a Targaryen. Nor do you sound like one. You have a northern accent," she pointed out, to which Jon chuckled.

"My mother hailed from the north, while my father was a Targaryen," Jon explained, opting for honesty. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked, seeking her assurance. With a nod, Shireen agreed.

"My mother was Lyanna Stark, and my father was Rhaegar Targaryen. And no, I'm not a bastard. They were wed," he added.

Jon could sense the weight of his revelation settling on Shireen. "That's why you didn't rescue my mother and father, isn't it?" she deduced.

"I came to rescue you. When I learned you were imprisoned by the Lannisters, I was determined to free you. I aim to claim the Iron Throne. And until my wife and I have a child, I would name you as my heir, should I succeed," Jon explained.

"Keeping my father alive would have complicated matters, wouldn't it?" Shireen surmised.

Jon gave her a pointed look. "You're too clever for your own good, you know that?"

"But I'm right, aren't I?" she pressed.

Jon nodded. "Aye, you're right. Your father would have only led to more bloodshed. It's best to unite as many as possible against the Lannisters. If the Seven Kingdoms band together against them, we can overthrow them," he explained, eyeing her with concern. "But that wasn't the only reason. Your parents were held in the deepest dungeons. We didn't have enough manpower to rescue all three of you. Your parents have lived their lives, but yours is still ahead of you. I would choose you over your father every time," he assured her.

"Does that make us cousins?" Shireen inquired.

Jon pondered for a moment. "Aye, I suppose it does. Distant cousins, mind you, but still related."

"In that case, it's a pleasure to meet you, cousin," Shireen replied, flashing a brief smile before turning her gaze back toward King's Landing. "When do you think the execution will take place?" she asked.

Jon racked his memory for details of Tyrion's trial. It had been brief, a fortnight or so after Joffrey's death. Tywin would want to ensure Tommen's reign appeared secure, and executing Stannis before any rebellion could be organised in his name would serve that purpose.

"Within a fortnight," Jon replied after considering the timeline. "I believe it's time you had a proper meal, Lady Shireen. There's stew waiting in the pot. Best to have it while it's hot and fresh," he suggested, offering her his warmest smile.

Shireen was about to leave for the food when she paused and turned back to Jon. "What will happen to the Stormlands?" she asked.

"They are yours," Jon assured her. "Although I advise you to call your bannermen upon reaching the north. The Lannisters won't just give you Storm's End. They'll install someone loyal to them," he explained. "Consider who the Lannisters might use against you. It might be wise to draft your letters while we sail north. You can send them upon reaching White Harbor, or if you're swift, I can despatch them just before departing Gulltown. By then, you'll be well on your way north," he suggested.

"Very well, send them from Gulltown," she agreed. "I'll eat some stew and begin writing the letters," she said.

"If you need any help..." Jon offered.

"I will ask," Shireen walked away, leaving him alone to watch the seas. leaving Jon alone to his thoughts, while watching the coastline disappear.

⸺⸺⸺◊◊◊⸺⸺⸺

The following morning, Jon awoke on Dragonstone, finding himself in the same chambers where he had been a prisoner under Dany's rule. He hadn't chosen them for luxury, although Jon couldn't deny they were the most luxurious he'd ever stayed in. Instead, he had chosen them out of convenience, because he knew their location and how it had been dark when he arrived.

Ser Davos had rowed out with him on the tiny rowing boat, with his minimal amount of items. The large amount of steps would be tough enough without carrying a heavy load. Instead, what he would require for his journey back north, was to be transferred to the other ship before Ser Davos and Shireen sailed north.

The island was silent and eerie. The men who had been mining dragonglass were taking a break in the village. Business boomed at the tavern and brothel, as his men were paid extra for their time off, and Jon knew where they spent their coin. Ser Davos had shared such details during their journey to Dragonstone.

For the first time in recent memory, Jon felt a sense of loneliness. While he didn't mind his own company, he missed his family, especially Sansa. They had spent too much of their marriage apart. Waking up alone in a cold bed after just a few days of warmth with his wife was unbearable. Thus, he rose early and wandered the castle as he awaited news of Joffrey's fate and Oberyn's decision.

Dragonstone appeared different from its days under Dany's rule. Flaming heart banners adorned every corner, without a Targaryen sigil in sight aside from those etched into the walls. The fortress was as dark and damp as ever, but in some ways, it felt even more desolate. Apart from Davos, Melisandre and the staff, no one had inhabited the castle since the Battle of the Blackwater, which had occurred four moons prior.

Jon found himself surprised by Joffrey's restraint in keeping the Baratheons alive. Killing them outright would not have looked favourable, considering Stannis was Joffrey's supposed uncle. Without a trial, Joffrey would risk being labelled a Kingslayer by some and a Kinslayer by most.

A mockery of a trial had been conducted a moon before the royal wedding. Stannis and Selyse were deemed guilty of treason, and Shireen was condemned for supporting her parents by refusing to swear fealty to Joffrey. It was only through Jon's intervention that Shireen's execution had been thwarted.

With the flaming heart banners serving no purpose, Jon took great pleasure in tearing them down. Next on his agenda was scouring the castle for any remnants of his family's sigil. He wanted the Targaryen banners flying high when Oberyn arrived. They would be the first symbol to the world outside of the north, that something was afoot, and the dragons were back.

Room after room, Jon searched until he finally stumbled upon some storage chambers containing the old Targaryen banners and standards. This discovery surprised him; he had expected Stannis to have ordered their destruction. The only explanation Jon could fathom for their preservation was if the staff had removed them and concealed them, hoping for the return of their former lords.

The banners were in surprisingly good condition, considering they had been removed almost twenty years ago. Jon had expected them to be rotten from dampness or moth-eaten. Yet, they were well-preserved and clean, even emitting a fresh scent. Someone had been caring for them without the Baratheons' knowledge, that much was clear. Dragonstone seemed to still hold loyalty to the Targaryens, much to Jon's satisfaction.

Despite the presumed abandonment of the castle, there were still a few staff members ensuring its upkeep. The kitchens remained operational, and servants maintained the premises. It was while Jon was sorting through the banners to replace the flaming heart ones that he encountered a young man, not much older than himself. Considering Jon's additional seven years from his past life, they were likely of similar age.

The young man stood at Jon's height, with short brown hair, brown eyes, and a solemn demeanour Clad in maester's robes adorned with a chain, he appeared mature for his age.

"I assume you are Lord Whitestark," the Maester addressed Jon, polite and with eloquent.

Jon nodded in affirmation. "That I am. And you are Maester..."

"Maester Pylos, Lord Whitestark. I serve as the Maester of Dragonstone," the young maester introduced himself.

Jon extended his hand, and Maester Pylos accepted the gesture. "A pleasure," Jon smiled. "You seem rather young to hold the position of Maester in such a significant castle," he remarked.

Maester Pylos returned the smile. "Many kings have shouldered heavier burdens at a much younger age. Our current king..." Pylos paused, noticing the Targaryen banners spread across the large table. "Do you intend to burn those?"

"Lady Shireen Baratheon has pledged allegiance to Prince Aegon Targaryen and has offered him Dragonstone as his residence," Jon replied, withholding his own identity while hinting at the existence of a living Aegon Targaryen.

"But Princess Shireen..." the Maester began.

"Lady Shireen," Jon corrected him. "She is safe and well. Prince Aegon tasked me with aiding her escape from King's Landing. He would not condone the murder of innocent children, especially those already educated to rule," Jon explained, blending elements of truth and falsehood. After all, Sansa always emphasised the effectiveness of lies with a grain of truth.

"And Lord and Lady Baratheon?" Maester Pylos inquired.

"We were unable to rescue them. One would assume they suffered their fate as scheduled," Jon lied, feeling the weight of deceit heavy on his conscience. He couldn't afford to be implicated in Joffrey's demise.

"And where is Lady Shireen?" Pylos inquired.

"Far enough away to evade Joffrey's grasp," Jon replied with a reassuring smile. "Now, we must hang these banners throughout the castle to prepare for Prince Aegon's arrival. I want the Targaryen standard prepared to be flown above the fortress, but only when necessary. Have it readied to be raised, though it's not required at present," he instructed.

"Do you have a letter from this Prince Aegon?" Maester Pylos asked. Jon knew the man didn't believe him.

Jon hadn't, but he could draft one within a few minutes. He had also stumbled upon a Targaryen wax seal, making the task easier. "It's among my belongings. If you could direct me to where it needs to be affixed, I'll handle it myself and retrieve the letter for you," Jon offered. "Will you be in the solar? I am awaiting some important correspondence," he added.

"I'll take care of mounting the Targaryen standard for you," Maester Pylos agreed. "You retrieve your letter. I'll await you in my solar."

⸺⸺⸺◊◊◊⸺⸺⸺

The fortress of Dragonstone had stood as a Targaryen bastion for over four centuries. With the imprisonment and subsequent execution of Stannis and Selyse Baratheon, I, Prince Aegon Targaryen, reclaim my rightful seat at Dragonstone. This action is sanctioned by the Baratheon heir, Lady Shireen Baratheon, who has pledged her allegiance and sworn fealty to me.

Ensure that all directives issued by Lord Jon Whitestark are followed without hesitation. He acts on my behalf.

Aegon Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone

Jon read and reread the letter, hoping it would persuade the young Maester. The most challenging part was signing it. He was accustomed to signing as Jon Snow—short, simple, and his true name. Signing as Aegon Targaryen felt fraudulent. He settled on a signature that resembled his usual one, sealed it with red wax, and pressed the three-headed dragon sigil into the wax. It marked his first official decree under the guise of Aegon Targaryen.

Once the wax had hardened, Jon made his way to the Maester's solar. Inside, he found young Maester Pylos attending to the ravens.

"A raven arrived for you, from King's Landing," Maester Pylos announced, his expression more sombre than usual. "And this one, I assume, is meant for you or Prince Aegon," he added, leaving Jon wondering if the news of Joffrey's demise had already been dispatched.

Jon handed the scroll he had penned himself to the Maester, who unravelled it and read its contents. Meanwhile, Jon broke the seal of the first letter, stamped with an orange wax seal bearing the Martell sigil of a sun pierced by a spear. He perused the message within.

My ship sets sail tonight. I'm informed the winds are favourable. Expect my arrival, as discussed.

Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne

Jon breathed a sigh of relief. With good winds, the Prince would arrive by noon tomorrow. He passed the scroll to Pylos before opening the letter from the Red Keep.

It is with a heavy heart that I write to inform the people of Dragonstone of the passing of our beloved King Joffrey I, who was tragically taken from us on his wedding day. He is succeeded by his younger brother, King Tommen I of the House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may he reign.

Grand Maester Pycelle

Jon was elated, Arya had succeeded; Joffrey was dead. Jon tried to suppress a smile, swallowing the surge of satisfaction. He glanced up at Maester Pylos and handed him the scroll, though, from the Maester's expression, it was clear he already knew of the King's demise.

"Will Prince Aegon be targeting King Tommen?" Pylos inquired. Jon recognized that a Maester should never question his Lord, but he decided to let this one slide.

"Prince Aegon does not harm children, and to my knowledge, Tommen Baratheon is still a child. Remember, it was King Joffrey who ordered Lady Shireen's execution. Despite her being perceived as a threat to Prince Aegon's aspirations for the Iron Throne, he intervened to save her life. I'm certain he'll extend the same mercy to Tommen and Myrcella," Jon reassured the Maester.

"Aegon Targaryen was slain as a babe by The Mountain," Pylos asserted, perhaps feeling emboldened by Jon's tolerance of his earlier question.

"Evidently not. Prince Aegon is unquestionably alive and well. I've seen him with my own eyes. For now, his identity must remain concealed. When the time is right, all will become clear," Jon replied, patting Pylos on the back. "But for now, we must prepare for the arrival of Prince Oberyn Martell. His stay will be brief, as we'll be setting sail north the following day at daybreak."

"Very well, Lord Whitestark," Pylos nodded. "I'll see to it that everything is arranged."

⸺⸺⸺◊◊◊⸺⸺⸺

Jon stood on the beach, awaiting Prince Oberyn's arrival as his men rowed the boat ashore. It brought back memories of Jon's first arrival at Dragonstone, though Daenerys had not bothered to greet them personally. Unlike her, Jon believed in the courtesy of welcoming visitors, and besides, he needed to ensure Oberyn did not reveal Jon's true identity to anyone on the island.

As Oberyn disembarked from the rowing boat, accompanied by about twenty of his Dornish guards, Jon inclined his head.

"Welcome to Dragonstone, my Prince. I am Lord Whitestark, here to extend greetings on behalf of Prince Aegon," Jon announced, offering his hand in greeting.

Oberyn quickly grasped the situation—they were to maintain the pretence of meeting for the first time. He accepted Jon's hand and shook it. "A pleasure," Oberyn replied with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes, which were busy scanning the island once called home by his sister.

Jon proceeded with the introductions. "Allow me to introduce the Maester of Dragonstone, Maester Pylos," he said. "I've arranged chambers for your stay, and we will depart at first light tomorrow," he added, ensuring Oberyn was aware of the plans.

"I would prefer to depart straight away," Oberyn insisted. "With the murder of the King, everyone in the capital is under suspicion. My absence will not bode well for Dorne. Although the King's mother is convinced Tyrion Lannister was the one behind the poisoning."

Jon feigned shock, while Maester Pylos seemed taken aback by the news. "Who would have had the motive to poison the King?" Jon inquired.

"A better question might be who didn't have a motive. Almost everyone in King's Landing wished him dead," Oberyn replied.

Jon turned to Pylos. "Can arrangements be made for an earlier departure?"

Pylos glanced at the boat Oberyn had arrived in. "Only if you use that boat to sail to your ship, my Lord," he replied.

"Is there enough space for one more?" Jon inquired.

"As long as you don't bring too much baggage," Oberyn replied with a smile.

⸺⸺⸺◊◊◊⸺⸺⸺

Jon made his way back to his chambers, finding Oberyn waiting in the room with a bottle of wine. Despite arriving with little, Jon was now departing with a few extra items. He had gathered some books to help him learn High Valyrian, understanding that proficiency might come with practice. Among them were volumes on dragons, anticipating the imminent hatching of his dragon.

Jon had also taken some old Targaryen clothing, though none of it was wearable anymore. However, it would offer Sansa insight into the attire of Targaryen kings, which was more subdued than the Baratheon style. Thus, he brought a few pieces along.

Among his acquisitions, Jon noticed a Valyrian steel jewelled dagger, which he intended to gift to Sansa along with other trinkets. Despite feeling a pang of guilt, he reminded himself that these were his inheritance, and it was time to claim it.

Two hours later, Jon stood on the deck of the ship, watching as Dragonstone receded into the distance, becoming smaller with each passing moment. Beside him stood Oberyn, who had witnessed his ship departing after transferring his belongings to Jon's vessel.

"So, what's our next destination?" Oberyn inquired.

"Gulltown," Jon replied. "I have a meeting with a red priestess there. After that, it's on to White Harbor, and then Winterfell."