authorsnote: two things:
1) the new season is phenomenal omg. screw you daemon, I will marry rhaenyra
2) I was a bit nervous to post this lol, especially with the new season and peoples OPINIONS. feel free to leave them all, but lets at least attempt to be constructive
also I mean this nicely, I get a lot of requests about this story, but be assured I've already planned it out in probably too much detail, its set, I'm already foreshadowing stuff planned for chapter 50, so this is the story as is.
do enjoy, I will be aiming to update this asap with the new season running alongside, if not in timeline, in spirit
songrecs: Bloodlines Will Burn - HOD Season 1
'The dragon kings had wed brother to sister, but they were the blood of old Valyria, where such practices has been common, and like their dragons the Targaryens answered to neither gods nor men'
– Catelyn Stark, about House Targaryen
-x-
That night, sleep did not come.
He lay awake, not even tossing and turning, just on his back, and then, knowing nothing would come, abandoned it to sit on the balcony, head tossed back, eyes on the stars, mind far far away.
The stars were less clear here, the hazy summer air, the orange tinge obscuring them. It wasn't like Winterfell, the air cold and clear, the stars silver and dazzling, he missed that, but then he knew part of him would always miss home.
But this was his home now, at least he tried to think that way, because what other way was there?
"Why me?" He asked, the words ghosting across his lips as he looked into the orange tinged darkness, heard the roar of a dragon, felt the very fire in his blood at the sound, the question he'd debated asking the Gods when he'd first woken here, self indulgent as it was.
He knew the answer of course, knew it, but asked all the same, perhaps hoping to hear from them, perhaps hoping they could speak to him.
But the skies, and the Gods remained silent.
Only another dragons roar echoed over Kings Landing, and that, with the scent of berries on the air, lulled Jon to sleep.
Sleep, darkness, peace, what he'd had before the Gods had yanked him out of it, yanked him out of it and placed him here, among dragons and snakes, and expected him to make peace of all of it.
Or did they expect him to fail?
The week in front of him seemed to race by, a clock counting down, surely sped up by the Gods.
Tick tick.
He knew it didn't he knew he had time, time to spend on wedding planning, and he was quite ruthless in directing anyone who tried to ask him anything about the wedding onto Alicent. He had no interest in flowers or the 4th course of food, or what his tunic looked like.
He barely saw Alicent, avoided Otto, and barely said a word during the Small Council meeting, having to fight the urge to glower at everyone who looked his way. He took the information in, knowing one day he'd preside over these, would have to, but he remained quiet.
"And the Stepstones Jon?" Viserys asked him as they finished their discussion on the Westerosi economy, in which Jon had tried not to openly glare at Otto, he was to be his Goodfather after all, a thought which made Jon shudder.
"I'll be leaving after the wedding" He said briskly, "I'm meeting with the generals this week, we will plan the assault, and take them back, it will be a two-pronged approach, dragonback, and then the land assault"
"And then?" It was Lord Strong who spoke then, and Jon shrugged.
"Then we fortify" He said, and it was left at that.
He'd been known for his brooding in Winterfell, it was only fitting he'd do the same here.
But he remembered the history of the petty Stepstones war, how fortifying them never seemed to be a priority, no King willing to commit to it. Jon was thankful at least for his position here that he could force the issue upon his return, to ensure he wasn't going to war over the rocks again in a year.
Tick tick.
A day before the wedding, he met with the generals accompanying him to the Stepstones, and that at least was free of wedding talk, as they discussed the planned assault, as they discussed Jon first on dragonback, and then at his signal, they would flood the beaches with men, flood the beaches, cut down any remaining, and ensure none remained.
"To the man" Jon said firmly, knowing men behind meant rebellion, "Unless they throw down their arms, and then we imprison them"
"It would be easier to kill them my Prince" One of the generals said, but there was no bloodthirst in his tone, just practicality, which was useful to Jon.
"Don't call me that" He still said, irritated, but masked it, he was good at that, this stoicism, employed even more than he'd had to in Winterfell, "And we don't slay surrendered men, we will imprison them, offer them the chance to join the Watch" Still looking out for his black brothers, even if those he knew were a time away.
After all, he wasn't just here to stop the dance of dragons.
"And what of the crab feeder?" One of the generals asked with a grunt, "He is meant to be good with a blade"
"I'm better" Jon said, no arrogance in his tone, only certainty, which the generals noted, and then the question of the crab feeder did not come up again.
'We all enjoy what we're good at' Who had said that to him? Someone once, and he remembered his reply.
'I don't'
It didn't make him any less good.
"I'll be ensuring the King offers tools and resources to fortify the Stepstones once we take them back" Jon said, "Any man brave in battle will get a command there after" He said, he'd chosen generals among the lower ranks of the Targaryen army deliberately, to give them this to fight for, competent men, but not those entrenched in the upper ranks, getting fat at the buffet table rather than charging into battle.
He needed men hungry, and he could see it in them as he announced that, to advance through the army to a command with one battle was a tempting offer. He'd chosen competent men, now he'd inspired them. He wasn't one for big speeches, but he knew motivation.
And he knew leadership; Jon would never ask any man to do what he wouldn't, he would fight on dragonback, and then dismount and lead the charge on the ground. He told the men as much who smiled and nodded, now they would follow him, now they would stand behind him as he charged.
And he would.
Jon knew his approach might be unconventional, and he would deal with snubbed army officials once the Stepstones was secured, first he prioritized securing them, first he planned to win them, and then he could soothe egos, or allow Viserys to do so.
He'd been given complete command of this operation after all, he'd do it his way, and he'd win.
Win them, and then hold them, both requiring a different approach to traditional war.
Traditional war was what he was hoping to avoid, in more ways than one.
He hadn't invited Daemon to the meetings deliberately, he would not allow his brother here to accompany him, to steep himself in glory and popularity; Jon required neither, but he didn't want Daemon to have them either, and not for reasons of vanity, no, he couldn't allow Daemon to use this an excuse to strengthen his claim.
Jon knew deep down it didn't matter what Viserys announced (which he had yet to, and planned to upon his return), men would follow the strongest, the one who seized the crown in more ways than one. Jon didn't have as much desire to as Daemon, but he certainly had better reason.
And that reason gave him the desire.
Tick tick.
He cornered Rhaenyra once, a day later in the dragon pit, having bribed a guard to tell him when he saw her attending it.
"Niece" He greeted her, and at her flinch he knew he'd caught her off guard, but couldn't feel bad for it, "You're avoiding me" He said, not usually so blatant, but he knew Rhaenyra valued that, like he did it, he found it incredibly refreshing how little double speaks she required.
"Don't flatter that I think of you that much" Rhaenyra responded with a roll of her eyes, as Syrax was lead forward by the dragon keepers, Syrax was an impressive she-dragon, but small compared to Vermithor, though she certainly looked formidable now, considering his own dragon was likely sleeping Vermithor.
"Then why haven't I seen you at meals? Why do you avoid my eye?" He asked honestly, wanting to nip this in the bud, he knew Rhaenyra was upset about him marrying Alicent, and he dreaded to think why.
He also missed Rhaenyra, he'd refused to marry her because he saw her as more of a sister, he missed her company.
But how did she see him?
"It's complicated" She said, and then she reminded him of Sansa, shutting him down when she didn't wish to talk, and then she was approaching Syrax, quickly, "I have to go"
But he stopped her, Syrax offered him a glare he was sure, but Jon still blocked Rhaenyra from moving, and looked down at her, never threatening, but he didn't want her to avoid this. He had half a foot on her, but her glare back could surely level him, if not make him smile, he was sure he caught a hint of one back.
"I care for you" He said, for he did, and her smile widened at that, "You know that don't you? You're my niece, but I see you more as a little sister" He said, and her smile dropped at that, and then he was forced to step aside, as she climbed onto Syrax, and away into the skies.
And again contemplate why she was so angry, and dread the idea.
Tick tick.
He saw Alicent too once that week, though it went infinitely better than his bungled attempt at making up with Rhaenya. Breaking their fast, they shared a table, didn't speak much, it was a touch awkward, but less than Jon had worried it might be. Alicent was nervous though, fingers picked raw, and though Jon would have found it easier to eat and move on, he knew this was his future, the future he'd chosen for one reason or another.
'I'll protect you'
From herself too.
He'd committed to this, there was no half in, half out.
And Alicent did rouse something in him, a protective instinct that reminded him of Sansa. He wasn't indifferent at all, just unsure how to proceed, terrified to mess it up, and distracted. But he wouldn't leave her to flounder, couldn't, one look into her eyes was enough.
One look indeed.
"How goes the wedding planning?" He asked, quietly, he sat at the head table, Alicent opposite, Rhaenyra not present, she was avoiding him too; another worry but one he had to deal with the second he had time (which was in short supply, where had the week gone?), and he ignored any listening in on them, a well-placed glare had them looking away.
His brooding reputation indeed did wonders.
"It's okay, you don't want to hear about that" Alicent said nervously, with a shy smile, and Jon returned it with a sincere one.
"I wouldn't have asked otherwise" He joked, which got him a real smile, and he didn't analyse too closely why that felt good, why peeling back Alicents nerves and how she thought she had to act, for the real her, one with a sweet smile and a nod, was something he strived for.
Or why he remained an extra half an hour to listen to Alicent tell him about the ceremony and dinner she was planning with her ladies, excitement in her tone.
Excited to marry him, Gods, he never thought nor planned to see the day.
He joked as much, perhaps poorly as he escorted Alicent to her planned walk with her ladies in waiting, all humming around her like bees now, desperate to be in favor with the future Princess, he was glad to see Rhaenyra present, even if she avoided his and Alicents eye.
"I hope it isn't too painful" Alicent joked as they reached the garden gazebo, her ladies waiting for her, he released her arm but they both lingered.
"I didn't mean-" Jon said, his cheeks perhaps going a bit red at his blunder, he'd never courted a woman, he wasn't sure if this counted, since they were already betrothed, but he was poor at it all the same.
He didn't see the twinkle in Alicents eye, already present.
"I was joking" She said back, a little more herself now, thanks to him (though he didn't know that), and there was a smile, one he mirrored then, and in an attempt to be chivalrous, an attempt not to make Alicent fear she was marrying a barbarian, he swept a kiss over her knuckles, imagined it was a move Sansa would approve of, wished for his sister-cousin then, to probably laugh but advise him all the same, Arya too to laugh, Rob to do both.
He missed them fiercely, but he carried them with him, even now.
Her cheeks went truly red at that kiss, and he heard her breathing hitch. Trouble lay that way, trouble he was walking into.
"I wouldn't have announced it, were I dreading it" A half lie, for he was dreading it, but that wasn't Alicents fault. "I want to marry you, I wouldn't be if not" Half a lie, if he had to marry anyone, well he'd had his pick and chosen after all.
"I know that" She returned, and with a smile, she pecked a kiss to his cheek, and he knew he went redder, her cheeks the colour of roses as she dashed back to her ladies all tittering, and Jon stumbled away, or at least thought he did, knowing in a few days, less than, there'd be more than a kiss on the cheek.
Tick tick.
It was coming and fast.
The night before, lying in bed, sleep evaded him once more.
But this time he remained lying down, remained prone, looking up at the canopy, sleep would not come, he knew that, knew in this mood he'd be enduring tomorrow exhausted, but that never stopped him, he was used to constant tiredness.
No, instead he looked up at the canopy, and for the moment he didn't think of the Stepstones, briefly thought of Alicent, her smile, her blush, but then he thought of Winterfell, thought of home, wondered if he would ever get to visit it, and show both Alicent and Rhaenyra the summer snows.
He did manage to drift off to sleep, darkness weaving in the edges of his mind, as he imagined, landing Vermithor on the mountain overlooking his real home, though as he drifted away, fire burned in the air, fire and blood.
But sleep took him before he could remember it, the fire, blood on snow, and screams in the air.
He couldn't tell whose.
He didn't know where to look.
Here he was, forced to stand at the head of the aisle, all pomp and ceremony, which he despised. Forced to wear regal robes of black and red, the dragon stitched across his chest, he'd outright refused the black cloak, studded with rubies, and glared as Viserys had suggested leaving the sword to one side. Blackfyre sat proudly on his hip, he wouldn't be unarmed in this place, with these people.
Southerners, who the North had long mistrusted, and vise versa. The Northerners thought the Southerners soft, weak, and the Southerners thought them to be savages, barbarians. And yet here he was set to marry one.
Marry.
He'd never seen this future for himself.
Even as King, he'd never looked twice at the idea of a bride. Sansa had kept any eager ladies at bay, and most didn't bother, knowing his mind was focused on war alone, he had no time to court. His one love had died what felt like a lifetime ago now, red of hair, just like Alicent, but that was where the similarities ended to say the least.
He didn't know her, his bride-to-be. He glanced up at the aisle, where she would appear, and felt something akin to nerves in his chest.
Put him on the battlefield, only a sword in his hand, looking down a hundred men, he'd force the nerves down, roar and charge into battle. But stick him in the aisle, hands clasped in front of him, glaring as Daemon laughed at his awkwardness, and he was having to actively fight the urge to flee.
He never would of course, never dishonour Alicent like that, and besides he'd been the one to suggest this after all, to save her. Save her and walk himself into the rope.
Perhaps he was being a touch dramatic, Alicent here was not the Alicent of the storybooks, and even then he knew history often lied. The Alicent here was sweet, kind, funny when she didn't look so nervous, and so utterly in need of saving, he didn't realise what that did to him, knew Ygritte would be laughing.
It was just even then … he was not made for this, what had he said to Alicent?
'I don't know if I'll be any good at this, but I will do right by you'
He'd meant those words, sincere as could be, but he knew that wouldn't make up for things if he were a poor husband.
He'd never cheat or dishonour or hurt her, no the thought of anyone hurting Alicent had the wolf … or dragon he supposed, roaring in his chest, but he knew hurting her wasn't reduced to just the physical, he knew neglecting would hurt her, he just hoped she understood he'd been truthful in that he didn't know if he would, or even could be good at this, and hoped she knew she was getting better with him than his brother.
He wasn't sure he could love again, even as the scent of berries on the air had calmed him, as he felt something tug in his chest as he heard whispers up the aisle, 'the bride will be here soon' they murmured, and Jon felt those nerves and something else again.
He hadn't dared think, swearing those vows in front of the Heart Tree, pledging his life to celibacy and to some extent loneliness, to ever feel any type of romantic love; he'd been lucky enough to have it once, and lost it, breaking his heart in the process, he didn't think he could, or could endure doing all of that again.
He'd surely never thought he'd marry, but here he was.
Had the Gods anticipated this when sending him here? Planned it? Rued him for not uniting the Targaryen house and stopping the dance at once?
He glanced at Rhaenyra, sat in the first row, she offered him a smile, but as they all had been for the past week it was tinged with sadness, he hadn't spoken to her since she'd ridden away on Syrax, and Jon felt dread in his stomach then, joining the nerves, especially glancing at his brother here, Daemon, sat next to their niece.
That could become a problem.
But a problem he would have to solve another time, as he heard a large creak, and whipped his head around.
Now he knew where to look, as the doors to the Sept opened, bathing the House of the Seven (not his Gods, but that didn't matter, he knew all were watching, whichever had returned him here, he was leaving this room a married man, with all that entailed), in sunlight, and there, breaking the rays, was Alicent.
His bride-to-be.
He remembered, as the doors shut behind her, blocking out the light but bringing her into focus, dressed in a sweeping gown of gold and white, a green cloak pinned to her shoulders and trailing onto the floor, something of his nerves on her face, but as she looked his way, a small smile creeped onto hers.
And he had no choice but to return it.
He remembered the other words he'd said to her.
'I will protect you I promise, I swear it, by all the Gods'
That vow he could and would keep.
If he had nothing else, he would give her that.
thoughts?
next we have a wedding and a war. I've already started writing it and its gunna be longgggg
will update asap, would love you reviews in the meantime
and obviously team black for hotd, but here? well the teams might look different ... or will there be teams at all? well...
speak soon