Notes
- In this story, Valyria is much older than in the canon.
- In this story, Rhaenys has a Valyrian appearance, not Dornish.
- VERY AU (Alternate Universe)
- Some characters are out of character.
This is a story based on the Game of Thrones books and TV series, but be warned, it's a very AU (Alternate Universe) story. If you're someone who doesn't enjoy a story that deviates a lot from canon, where certain characters may act out of character, or if you're not a fan of romance with a good amount of fluff, and a story that ultimately has a happy ending, then this may not be the right story for you.
THE REACH 298 AC
The Tyrells had meticulously prepared for their journey to Winterfell. Led by Mace Tyrell himself, the Tyrell party set out from Highgarden in a grand procession, banners proudly displaying the golden rose of House Tyrell. Anticipation for the alliance and the chance to meet the Starks filled their hearts as they embarked on the long journey.
As they traversed the picturesque landscapes of the Reach, the knights of House Tyrell led the way, clad in gleaming armor adorned with the golden rose. Their horses moved in synchronized grace, their hooves creating a rhythmic beat that echoed through the countryside. Each knight bore intricate designs on their helmets and shields, showcasing the might and pride of House Tyrell to all who beheld them.
Following the vanguard of knights was a grand carriage, a marvel of craftsmanship reflecting House Tyrell's wealth and influence. More than a mere mode of transportation, the carriage stood as a symbol of status and power. Its wooden frame boasted intricate carvings of blooming roses and delicate vines, a tribute to the beauty of Highgarden. Pulled by four strong destriers adorned with ornate silver and gold decorations, the carriage exuded luxury.
Within the carriage sat Lady Olenna Tyrell, the matriarch of House Tyrell, radiating authority and grace. Shielded from the sun by a diaphanous canopy of silk adorned with golden tassels, Lady Olenna wore a gown of emerald green, intricately embroidered with golden threads depicting the splendor of Highgarden. An elegant coronet graced her silver hair, and a pendant bearing the Tyrell rose hung around her neck, symbolizing her house's pride and heritage.
Beside Lady Olenna sat her granddaughter, Margaery Tyrell, her youthful elegance shining brightly. Margaery's gown was a vision of delicate artistry, adorned with soft silk petals cascading down the bodice. A silver belt cinched her waist, accentuating her graceful figure. Eager anticipation sparkled in her eyes as she looked forward to meeting the Starks and experiencing the wonders of Winterfell.
Within the luxurious confines of the carriage, the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the creaking of the wheels provided a soothing ambiance, granting Lady Olenna and Margaery a moment of privacy to share their thoughts.
Margaery fidgeted with the delicate lace of her gown, her expression tinged with curiosity. 'Grandmother,' she began, her voice soft yet uncertain, 'I must admit, I am a little perplexed by this change of plans. I thought we were to visit King's Landing and meet Prince Joffrey. Why are we traveling to Winterfell instead?'"
"Margaery, my dear," Lady Olenna began, her voice gentle but firm, "I understand this change of plans may perplex you, but trust that I have my reasons. Sometimes destiny takes unexpected turns, and we must adapt. There is much you will come to understand soon enough. The future of House Tyrell hinges upon it."
Margaery nodded, reassured by her grandmother's wisdom. Yet, a mix of excitement and nerves churned within her as she contemplated the upcoming meeting with the Starks. She had heard tales of Winterfell and House Stark, how they upheld ancient traditions and worshiped the old gods, setting them apart from the other great houses of Westeros. "During these two months of travel," Margaery resolved, "I will embrace the opportunity to learn more about the North and its unique customs with an open heart."
KINGSROAD NORTH OF WINTERFELL 298 AC
After 20 long days of journeying from Castle Black, where they had hardly seen any signs of inhabitable places, the Night's Watch passed by what appeared to be an inn.
"How many more days until we reach Winterfell?" Elaena asked curiously as she observed the inn.
"Two days," Lord Commander Mormont responded, carefully examining the inn.
Noticing that Lord Commander Mormont looked tired after these grueling 20 days of travel, Elaena suggested, "Lord Commander, I would like to invite you, Maester Aemon, and the rest of our companions to spend the night at this inn. This is the first inn we've come across on the way to Winterfell, and what better way to regain our strength and arrive in Winterfell well-rested."
Lord Commander Mormont maintained a serious expression and briefly glanced at the guards who were providing protection. He said, "Listen, brothers, tonight we shall sleep under a roof and have a warm meal. Take advantage of this night to rest, for tomorrow we continue the march to Winterfell."
"LADY ELAENA, LADY ELAENA," the Night's Watch guards cheered enthusiastically, clashing their swords against their shields.
As night fell, the weary members of the Night's Watch had already retired to their respective rooms, leaving Elaena and Benjen alone in the inn's dining hall.
"I must say, Ely, you've been quite generous," Benjen remarked, taking a seat across from her.
Elaena smiled warmly, "It's important to earn the hearts and loyalty of our allies, especially the Night's Watch. They play a vital role in guarding the realms of men."
Benjen nodded in agreement, "Indeed they do. And your gesture won't be forgotten."
As they conversed, Jon Snow and Samwell Tarly approached them. Jon spoke up, "May we join you?"
"Of course," Elaena replied graciously, gesturing for them to sit.
Jon and Sam joined them, and as they sat together in the cozy inn, a sense of camaraderie filled the air. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow on their faces.
Jon looked at Elaena earnestly, "Aunt Elaena, if I may, I have many questions. Could you tell us more about your origins? Among the Night's Watch brothers, it's rumored that you are from Lys."
Elaena exchanged a meaningful glance with Benjen, as if understanding each other without the need for words. Benjen leaned in slightly and said, "Go on, Ely. You can tell them."
Elaena smiled at Benjen and then turned to Jon, saying, "Dear nephew, I know you have many questions, and it's time for me to share some things about myself. However, before I reveal anything, you should know that I am still the same person, your Aunt Elaena, who loves your Uncle Ben passionately."
Elaena sighed and said, "Jon, Samwell, I am not from Lys as most members of the Night's Watch believe. My surname is Targaryen."
A moment of silence hung in the air, and Jon was the first to break it, his voice tinged with astonishment. "Targaryen?! My apologies, Aunt Elaena, but I vividly recall Maester Luwing's teachings back in Winterfell regarding the noble houses. And in those lessons, I never heard about a recent member of House Targaryen with that name."
Samwell Tarly also chimed in, "Lady Elaena, like Jon, I received lessons about the history of the great houses of Westeros, including the Targaryen dynasty. I've read manuscripts and other books on my own, and what you're telling us isn't found in the records."
"Jon, Samwell," Elaena said, observing them as she held Jon's hand, "the Maesters taught you well. I don't appear in the records of the great houses of Westeros because the Targaryen dynasty consists of descendants of Aenar Targaryen, and I am not one of them. Instead, I am Aenar's younger sister."
Jon and Sam were left speechless, trying to process the revelation. Elaena continued, "I was born in Valyria and was the only Targaryen who remained on the peninsula. In my people's calendar, I was born in the year 11,577, but according to the Westerosi calendar, it would be the year 135 Before Aegon's Conquest. I was 23 when the Doom, as you in Westeros call it, occurred."
Jon looked to Benjen, who nodded, confirming the truth of Elaena's words. Initially feeling a surge of nervousness, Jon calmed himself upon seeing the assurance in his uncle's eyes. "They've been married for eight years; she's already family. If Uncle Ben trusts her, then I will too," Jon thought, his unease subsiding.
Valyria," Samwell exclaimed with fascination, his eyes fixed on Elaena with genuine curiosity. "Since I was a child, I've read countless books about Valyria, but being in the presence of someone from Valyria is a whole different experience."
After saying this, Samwell blushed and, with a noticeably strong accent, spoke in High Valyrian, "Thank you very much, Lady Elaena, for the wine and the rooms."
"Where did you learn High Valyrian, Sam?" Elaena inquired, her smile directed at Samwell.
Samwell blushed slightly before answering, "Since I was a child, Lady Elaena, I've had a curiosity for reading and learning about various subjects. Learning High Valyrian happened to be one of those subjects."
Elaena contemplated Samwell for a brief moment, then turned her gaze towards Jon and said, "Dear nephew, friends like Sam are truly invaluable. You are fortunate to have such a friend."
The conversation extended for another hour as Elaena and Benjen addressed additional concerns raised by Jon and Samwell. However, they tactfully avoided delving into specific details on certain matters, reserving such information exclusively for the knowledge of Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon.
As the conversation neared its end, Elaena's expression turned serious. She spoke, "Jon, Samwell, I hope that this secret about my origin remains undisclosed among the other members of the Night's Watch. Only Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon are privy to my origin." Elaena sighed and continued, "Eight years ago, I might have resorted to blood magic and formed a blood pact with both of you to ensure the secrecy of this matter. However, I choose to place my trust in both of you. Jon, the blood of the Starks flows within you, and I know you to be a person of honor. Samwell, as Jon's closest friend, I extend my trust to you as well."
"Your secret is safe with us, Aunt Elaena," Jon stated solemnly, a sentiment echoed by Samwell as he also vowed to uphold the confidentiality of the information.
WINTERFELL 298 AC
The procession's arrival had been heralded from afar by the resonant and majestic sound of horns, their regal notes echoing through the air, serving as a fitting prelude to the grandeur that awaited. Two months had passed since the journey's commencement from Highgarden. As the Tyrell procession finally arrived at Winterfell, the sight that met their eyes was nothing short of majestic. The imposing walls of the ancient castle loomed tall and proud, surrounded by a sea of green, as if embracing the castle in a protective hold. The Stark banners fluttered in the breeze, and the North's crisp air carried the scent of pine and earth.
The gates creaked open as the Tyrell party entered the courtyard. Lord Eddard Stark and his wife, Catelyn, stood side by side, flanked by their children, to warmly welcome the arriving guests. Robb, the heir to Winterfell, emanated the air of a young lord poised for greatness. Wrapped in a fur-trimmed cloak, he exuded the quiet dignity and noble bearing that was a hallmark of House Stark. Beside him, his siblings stood, each exuding their own unique presence, a testament to the strength of their family name. The Stark family was resplendent in their northern garb, with furs and leathers keeping them warm in the chilly northern air.
Flanked by a contingent of knights, Lord Mace Tyrell rode on horseback. As he approached, his armor reflected the power and prestige of House Tyrell. Intricate carvings of blooming roses adorned his breastplate, and a crimson cloak flowed from his broad shoulders, proudly displaying his house's colors. A crown adorned with golden roses rested atop his helm, symbolizing his position as the Lord of Highgarden.
With grace, Lady Olenna and Margaery emerged from their ornate carriage, their eyes sweeping the courtyard until they landed upon a figure that momentarily stole Margaery's breath away. It was Robb Stark, the young heir of Winterfell, who captured her attention instantly. Their eyes met, sparking a connection that Margaery felt deep within her soul.
"Grandmother," Margaery whispered, her heart fluttering, "that must be Robb Stark. He looks very gallant and handsome."
"Indeed, my dear," Lady Olenna replied with a knowing smile. "The Starks possess a striking presence, and Robb stands as a testament to that. But remember, appearances can be deceiving. What truly matters is the strength of character and the bonds that will be forged."
If only you were born with a twin," Lady Olenna's voice was a whisper, her eyes stopping not only on Robb but also on his equally handsome twin brother, Torrhen Stark, who was just as captivating as his brother, catching the eye of both Lady Olenna and Margaery Tyrell.
Ned's voice resonated with genuine hospitality as he addressed their guests. "Lady Olenna, Lord Mace, Lady Margaery, on behalf of House Stark, I bid you welcome to Winterfell. Your journey must have been long and tiring. Please, allow us to escort you to the Great Hall," he continued warmly. "And as tomorrow arrives, a feast will be held in honor of such distinguished guests. Your journey must have been challenging. Please, come inside and warm yourselves by the hearth."
Lord Mace Tyrell, his countenance reflecting a mix of amiable exhaustion and anticipation, addressed Ned. "Lord Stark, your warm reception is most appreciated. The journey has indeed been long, but the legendary hospitality of the North is already proving true. We eagerly anticipate partaking in your feast on the morrow."
Lady Olenna nodded, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of Winterfell's architecture. "Your home is as grand as the tales suggest, Lord Stark. I anticipate experiencing the famed Godswood and its heart tree."
Catelyn's eyes shimmered with a sense of pride and eagerness. She found herself not only pleased with Lady Olenna's words but also with the sentiments expressed by Lord Mace Tyrell. "Your kind words warm our halls, Lady Olenna. The Godswood and its heart tree await your exploration. But for now, let us extend our Northern hospitality to you."
As the Tyrells were led to their guest chambers to rest and refresh, Ned exchanged a knowing glance with Catelyn. A future entwined with those from the Reach. It was a union that held promises and possibilities beyond the present moment, a testament to the intricate web of alliances that bound the Seven Kingdoms together.
1 DAY AFTER
A day had passed since the Tyrell procession graced Winterfell's courtyards, and now the ancient castle was alive with the splendor of a grand feast in honor of their esteemed guests. The Great Hall became a tapestry of colors, adorned with the finest banners of House Stark and the emblematic roses of House Tyrell. Long tables, adorned with an array of sumptuous dishes and gleaming goblets, stretched along the hall, each place meticulously set in anticipation of the celebration to come.
At the high table, Lord Eddard Stark and his wife, Catelyn, presided, flanked by Lady Olenna Tyrell and Lord Mace Tyrell. The high table symbolized unity, where alliances were solidified and friendships formed. Nearby, a separate but adjoining table accommodated the Stark youths, Margaery Tyrell, and Maester Luwin. Here, the young heirs of Winterfell were in the company of Margaery, forging connections that would shape their futures.
Robb Stark and Margaery Tyrell sat side by side, their conversation flowing effortlessly, blending intrigue and laughter. Meanwhile, Torrhen Stark conversed with Maester Luwin about the intricate lore of the Order of Masters. Sansa, radiant in a gown matching the summer sky, listened enraptured to the songs of the bard.
Arya, ever spirited at nine years old, occupied a nearby seat, her eyes sparkling with the vibrant energy of the feast. Bran, only seven, found delight in every dish presented before him, his fascination with the festivities infectious to all around. Beside him, little Rickon, at the tender age of three, was more enamored with the sweet indulgences than the grandeur of the evening.
Amid the joyous atmosphere, Lady Olenna Tyrell observed the animated and genuine conversation between Margaery and Robb. Leaning closer to Eddard, she said with a twinkle in her eye, "Lord Stark, it seems a strong connection is forming between young Robb and my granddaughter Margaery. Perhaps the idea of a betrothal we discussed in our correspondence is worth considering, and it may be time to make it official."
Eddard offered a thoughtful nod, his gaze drifting to the pair. The notion of uniting their houses through marriage had been broached before. Such unions were common in the realm, a way to secure allegiances and ensure peace. But as he looked at Robb and Margaery, he sensed a certain harmony that transcended mere duty.
The Great Hall resounded with melodies as minstrels played their harps and flutes, filling the atmosphere with laughter and animated discussions. The feast itself was a testament to the culinary arts of Winterfell's kitchens. Roasted meats, savory pies, and an array of vegetables from the North's fertile lands graced the tables. Goblets were filled with wines from the Reach, their flavors as rich as the camaraderie that filled the hall.
As the night wore on, Lord Mace Tyrell rose from his seat, commanding the attention of all. "Lords and ladies, noble friends," he began, his voice carrying the weight of experience and leadership, "let us raise our goblets in a toast to the blossoming friendship between House Stark of Winterfell and House Tyrell of Highgarden."
The hall erupted in cheers and the clinking of goblets, a chorus of unity reverberating through the air. Catelyn smiled as she glanced around the hall, a sense of fulfillment settling within her. The alliances forged, the bonds strengthened.
In the midst of the festivity, Theon Greyjoy regaled his tablemates with tales of his expertise as an archer. His voice carried over the clamor, and his stories of precision and skill garnered the admiration of those who listened.
As the night wore on, during the second hour of the feast in homage to the Tyrells, Eddard's attention was drawn by a guard entering the hall. The guard conversed in hushed tones with Jory Cassel, the captain of the guard, before approaching the high table. With a whisper, Jory informed Eddard, "My lord, I've just been informed that your brother Benjen, along with his wife and the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, are at the outskirts of Winterfell. One of the members of the Night's Watch is Jon."
Eddard, though aware of the planned visit from the Night's Watch, was surprised by their early arrival. He nodded his understanding to Jory and then turned to quietly inform Catelyn of the situation before excusing himself, leaving her in charge of the guests.
ONE DAY BEFORE, ON THE KINGSROAD
Elaena, Lord Commander Mormont, and Maester Aemon sat around a crackling campfire, their faces bathed in the warm glow of the dancing flames. They waited patiently as Benjen emerged from his trance-like state, during which his mind was connected with Nightwing, his raven. They had chosen to send the raven to Winterfell to gather information about the situation there. After a few minutes, Benjen finished the connection and regarded the others with a hint of concern.
"It seems that my brother has visitors in Winterfell. There are Tyrell banners present," he said, his brow furrowing.
Lord Commander Mormont leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement in the flickering firelight. "Do you realize the opportunity this presents?" he exclaimed, addressing the group. "This is our chance not only to garner support from Lord Eddard Stark and the North but also to secure the backing of the influential House Tyrell from the Reach. They must be made aware of the dire threat lurking in the North."
Elaena nodded thoughtfully, her gaze fixed on the flames. "I must have a conversation with Aelora Balaerys, Lord Commander. This unexpected development in Winterfell could potentially alter her plans."
The atmosphere around the campfire crackled with a blend of anticipation and determination. The implications of the Tyrell presence in Winterfell were profound, and the opportunity to secure allies for the Night's Watch was too valuable to ignore.
The crackling of the fire and the whispering of the night breeze provided a backdrop for their discussion. The Night's Watch encampment, positioned beside the King's Road, served as a temporary refuge as they journeyed toward Winterfell. The surroundings were enveloped in darkness, punctuated only by the flickering campfire and the distant twinkling of stars overhead.
1 HOUR LATER
Elaena's voice resonated through the enchanted mirror, reaching Aelora Balaerys on the other side. She recounted Benjen's observations through his raven and the presence of House Tyrell in Winterfell. As Elaena concluded her narration, she noticed a smile forming on Aelora's face, and Aelora exclaimed, "Excellent news, Elaena. This only strengthens my resolve to proceed with my journey."
Elaena couldn't hide her concern, her voice tinged with doubt. "Are you certain, Aelora? The situation is complex, and unexpected developments can lead to unforeseen consequences."
"Absolutely," Aelora responded with confidence. "Four hundred years ago, during the era of independent realms, the Kingdom of the Reach maintained extensive trade relations with the Valyrian Freehold. Our interactions with House Gardener's rulers were always positive. The legacy of friendly trade lays a foundation we can build upon. The tides of fate are in our favor."
"And according to my husband and Ser Jorah Mormont, Olenna Tyrell is a skilled diplomat who could facilitate a connection with Eddard Stark and Winterfell. The Tyrells also supported House Targaryen during Robert's Rebellion."
"Will Jon Connington be joining us?" Elaena inquired.
"No, Jon Connington will remain behind. He believes his presence could complicate matters. He intends to wait until Aegon is securely settled on the Iron Throne before returning. Instead, Balemond Aekylosh will accompany me," Aelora replied.
"You're traveling with another member of the Triarchy to Westeros?" Elaena asked, surprised.
"Yes," Aelora confirmed, a smile playing on her lips. "Having two out of the three Triarchy members journey to Westeros will send a strong message that Valyria takes the northern threat seriously, Elaena."
A sigh, filled with both hope and trepidation, escaped Elaena's lips as she said, "May the gods be with us, and may tomorrow's meeting yield favorable results."
ONE DAY LATER WINTERFELL
The doors of Winterfell's Great Hall swung open, revealing the crisp, cool night air outside. Torches illuminated the courtyard, casting flickering shadows over the cobblestones. Eddard advanced, his eyes scanning the figures emerging from the darkness.
Leading the Night's Watch contingent was Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, a man of imposing presence. His weathered face bore the marks of years spent on the Wall, and his gaze carried a mixture of wisdom and determination. Beside him walked Maester Aemon, frail yet dignified, his clouded eyes holding a depth of knowledge only age could grant.
As the torchlight danced upon their faces, Eddard felt a mixture of respect and responsibility. House Stark had always been a staunch friend to the Night's Watch, a bond forged in ancient times when the realm faced greater dangers beyond the Wall.
Eddard stepped forward to meet them, his expression warm yet filled with solemn duty. "Lord Commander Mormont, Maester Aemon," he began, his voice carrying the weight of tradition, "Winterfell extends its hospitality to the Night's Watch. The North remembers, and our ancient alliance remains unbroken."
Lord Commander Mormont's response was measured and respectful, "Lord Eddard Stark, your welcome is appreciated. The Night's Watch stands vigilant, and we are humbled by your continued support."
Maester Aemon's aged voice held a note of gratitude as he added, "House Stark's honor has been a guiding light for generations of men who took the black. Your words echo through time."
In that moment, the torches seemed to burn a little brighter, symbolizing the enduring connection between House Stark and the Night's Watch. The unspoken understanding between them was rooted in shared duty and the understanding that their realms were interwoven in the fabric of Westeros.
Eddard's gaze then shifted to a figure standing a few steps behind Lord Commander Mormont—Jon Snow. Eddard's heart swelled with a mixture of pride, longing, and an undeniable pang of guilt. Jon, the boy he had raised as his own, was a constant reminder of his sister Lyanna and the promise he had made to her.
"Father," Jon said, his voice tinged with respect and a yearning for acceptance.
As Jon stepped forward, his dark hair and eyes reminiscent of Eddard's, he appeared both eager and unsure. It had been over a year since they last saw each other, and the changes in Jon were evident—his shoulders broader, his expression more defined. Eddard's voice was gentle yet firm as he addressed Jon, "Jon, you've grown, both in stature and character."
Jon nodded, his gaze unwavering as he met Eddard's. "I've learned much, Father. The Night's Watch has taught me about duty, sacrifice, and the importance of defending the realm. But there are questions that have lingered, truths I've sought."
Their conversation hung suspended in the air, unspoken truths and emotions a bridge between them. The flickering torchlight danced in the shadows, casting a play of light and darkness over their faces. Eddard knew that the moment had come, a moment of revelation that carried the weight of the past and the impact it would have on the future.
With a subtle gesture from Lord Commander Mormont, a figure stepped forward from the shadows beside him. It was Benjen Stark, Eddard's younger brother, who had ventured beyond the Wall and returned transformed by his experiences.
"Brother," Benjen's voice carried a blend of familiarity and urgency as he approached Eddard. The embrace that followed was a silent affirmation of the bond between them, forged in childhood escapades and shared dreams.
As they parted, Benjen's gaze shifted to a figure that had remained silent, observing everything from the background. "Brother, allow me to introduce you to my wife, Elaena," he said with a touch of pride in his voice.
Elaena stepped gracefully into the circle of torchlight, her demeanor radiating both regal poise and approachable warmth. Her eyes held a tranquil strength, hinting at the depth of experience she carried within. As she positioned herself before Eddard, a subtle tension briefly lingered—a recognition of the significance that hung in the air.
With a gentle inclination, she extended her hand, a gesture imbued with respect and the promise of mutual understanding. "Lord Eddard Stark, it is an honor to finally meet my brother-in-law," Elaena's voice resonated with poised confidence, laced with a touch of vulnerability. Her gaze met his, a fusion of unwavering certainty and gentle openness.
Eddard's lips curved into a warm smile, reflecting the flickering torchlight's embrace. His voice, a blend of hearth's comfort and a lifetime's wisdom, responded to her gesture. "Winterfell welcomes you, Lady Elaena Stark." At the same time, Eddard's lips pressed gently against Elaena's hand—a gesture of honor and respect.
Elaena's smile broadened, and an inward thought flickered through her mind. "He greets me as a Stark. In his eyes, he truly embraces me as a member of the family."
Benjen, who observed the interaction between his wife and his brother, smiled. He then turned to look at Jon, who was also watching the exchange with a slight smile. Benjen's expression turned serious, and addressing Eddard, he said, "Brother, it is time for Jon to know the truth."
Eddard's attention turned to Jon. "Jon, you have your mother's eyes," he mused softly, a bittersweet smile on his lips. Memories of Lyanna's grey eyes, which had haunted him for years, came rushing back.
Jon, feeling a bit confused, noticed how Elaena and Benjen positioned themselves at his side, each taking one of his hands. Their touch provided a reassurance that he desperately needed in that moment of vulnerability.
"What I'm about to reveal to you, Jon, is something you must know, regardless of the outcome. You will always be my son in my eyes."
A surge of emotions swept through Jon's mind—anticipation, anxiety, and a mix of feelings he struggled to name. Eddard's words were poised to unlock a long-held secret about his mother, a revelation he had yearned for and feared in equal measure. Their gazes locked, and in that moment, unspoken feelings forged a connection stronger than words.
"Jon, I am not your true father, but you do have my blood. Your mother is my late sister, Lyanna Stark, and your father is Rhaegar Targaryen. You are their legitimate son. Your true name is Jaehaerys Targaryen."
"Jaehaerys, what a beautiful name," Elaena thought, listening attentively to Eddard's revelation.
Eddard, noticing Jon's inscrutable expression, sighed and continued, "You should know, Jon, that I kept this secret to protect you. If Robert or Tywin Lannister had learned..." Eddard paused, momentarily looking at Elaena with sadness, remembering the shattered bodies of Aegon and Rhaenys. He continued, "I didn't want the atrocities that were committed against Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys to be repeated with you."
Elaena, upon hearing this, felt her heart skip a beat. She thought, "Lord Eddard, you truly are an honorable man. You have your flaws, and you shouldn't have let Jaehaerys go to the Night's Watch, but you are a man of honor."
Jon felt as though the weight of the world had descended upon him. In that moment, he experienced confusion, sadness, anger, but also understanding. He had heard stories about the sack of King's Landing and what had been done to the young Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys. The revelation held both the promise of a deeper identity and the burden of a lineage fraught with history.
"Can I still call you father?" Jon asked, his eyes welling with tears.
"Of course, son," Eddard said, moving closer and embracing him. In that embrace, the bond between them deepened, solidifying the connection that had always existed between them, regardless of blood.
After the embrace with Eddard, Jon noticed Elaena watching him with glistening eyes, tears pooled in her own. Elaena stepped forward and embraced him, her touch gentle yet filled with an unspoken understanding.
"Jaehaerys," she said, her voice soft but carrying the weight of years of searching, "you are the descendant of my brother Aenar, and it brings me immense joy to finally meet you." Her tears, a testament to the emotions she had long held in check, mingled with the torchlight's glow.
Jon felt a surge of emotions as he embraced Elaena. The connection he had felt with her was no longer a mystery—he understood its origin now. In that moment, surrounded by the torchlight's warmth, he realized that he was not alone. He was part of a lineage, a family, and a story that spanned generations.
The silence that followed was broken by Samwell Tarly, who approached Elaena and Jon with a reassuring smile. "Jon, or should I say Jaehaerys, it doesn't matter how things change from now on. You're still my best friend, and you'll always have my unwavering support."
Maester Aemon, his gaze a mix of wisdom and pride, joined them. "Jaehaerys, your name carries the legacy of kings. Wear it with pride," Aemon said, his gaze shifting between Elaena and Jaehaerys. He continued, "Nine years ago, I thought my family had been extinguished, but thanks to you, Elaena, I now know it is flourishing."
Elaena was about to respond to Maester Aemon when a sudden shift in her expression caught Benjen's attention. "Is something amiss, Ely?" he inquired, his concern evident.
"They have arrived, Ben. Just now," her voice held a blend of awe and urgency.
Lord Commander Mormont, attentive to the unfolding scene, interjected cautiously, "Are you certain, Lady Elaena?"
"Indeed, Lord Commander. Their presence is unmistakable. And they didn't come alone; they arrived on wings," Elaena's words held a mysterious quality.
"Dragons!" Maester Aemon and Lord Commander Mormont exclaimed in unison, their eyes gleaming with surprise as Elaena confirmed his suspicions.
Benjen's gaze shifted between Elaena and Eddard, his expression marked by unwavering determination. "Ned, there are matters we must discuss."
Eddard, who wore a serious expression, said, "Go on, Brother."
Benjen nodded in agreement and continued, "Ned, do you recall my mention in the letter about the possibility of more individuals from Valyria coming north?" Eddard observed his brother, a hint of nervousness in his eyes.
Eddard responded, "I do remember, brother. In the letter, you mentioned a potential threat beyond the wall and that the Valyrians wished to assist in countering this threat."
He nodded understandingly and went on, "The Valyrians have indeed arrived, and it seems fitting to convene here at Winterfell as the meeting place."
After a brief exchange between Benjen, Elaena, and Eddard, Eddard's attention shifted to Jory Cassel, signaling for him to approach.
"My lord, what is your command?" Jory inquired.
"Jory, gather seven men. We'll need Hallis Mollen, Desmond, Jacks, Porther, Quent, Tomard, and Alyn. They should prepare horses—seven additional ones."
"Seven more horses, my lord?" Jory's curiosity was palpable.
"Yes, Jory. We will have seven more guests than planned," Eddard's decisive tone left no room for doubt
As the group prepared to depart, a previously unheard voice spoke up. "May I accompany you, Lord Stark?" Olenna Tyrell, who had quietly observed the scene, stepped forward.
The presence of Olenna Tyrell took everyone by surprise, their attention previously absorbed by Eddard's revelation to Jon. It became evident that Olenna had left the castle unnoticed, bearing witness to the unfolding events in the courtyard's shadows.
After a brief silence, Lord Stark spoke, his tone formal, "Lady Olenna, should you not be enjoying the feast held in your honor and that of your family?"
As the moment settled, Olenna Tyrell's gaze briefly fixed upon Elaena and Benjen, who observed her with curiosity. Then, addressing Lord Eddard, she spoke, her voice carrying a blend of charm and authority, "Lord Eddard, the feast has been splendid, and the Northern hospitality is truly unmatched. However, wouldn't it be more fitting for two great houses of Westeros to be represented instead of just one? The Starks from the North and the Tyrells from the South."
Elaena, her mind racing, found a parallel between Olenna and Aelora Balaerys in their strong personalities. "Olenna could easily have been Aelora's mother," she thought. Approaching Lord Eddard and Olenna, she added, "Lady Olenna's suggestion holds merit, Lord Eddard. Having representatives from two prominent houses to welcome the newcomers would send a powerful message."
Eddard nodded, though he wasn't entirely certain about Lady Olenna accompanying them in case a dangerous situation arose. However, Elaena's logic was beyond dispute.
A smile played on Olenna's lips as she looked at Elaena and then turned her attention back to Eddard. "Lord Stark, I would be delighted to meet the charming wife of your brother, Benjen Stark."
"Lady Olenna," Eddard's tone held a touch of formality, capturing the attention of those around. "Allow me to introduce Lady Elaena Stark."
Elaena stepped forward gracefully, her demeanor radiating grace. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Olenna."
Olenna's smile deepened. "The pleasure is truly mine."
"Lady Olenna, when we return from this mission, it would be an honor to speak with you and discuss various matters," Elaena expressed with genuine interest.
Olenna's smile carried a hint of mischief. "Indeed, there will be ample time. We have much to discuss, my dear."
As the group readied themselves for departure, it had been decided that Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon would accompany Lady Olenna Tyrell in her carriage. Amidst the bustling preparations, Elaena exchanged a few quiet words with Eddard. As the leader of the delegation, Eddard then addressed the gathered crowd with calm reassurance, "Whatever you may witness, do not be alarmed."
Excitement crackled in the air like static electricity, anticipation mounting with each passing moment. In the midst of this fervor, a previously quiet voice chimed in, cutting through the buzz of conversation. "Jon, can you believe it? Dragons!" Samwell Tarly's enthusiasm overflowed, his voice carrying the weight of countless tales from ages past.
Jon's gaze shifted towards Samwell, his expression a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. "Dragons, Sam," he echoed, his tone tinged with a hint of incredulity.
Samwell nodded eagerly, his eyes alight with wonder. "We're stepping into legends, Jon. Into the grandeur of Valyria."
A LEAGUE FROM WINTERFELL, ONE HOUR LATER
VALYRIANS
The Valyrians, mounted on their dragons, descended gracefully from the nighttime sky. Their winged beasts landed with an otherworldly silence, the snow barely stirring under the weight of their claws. Aelora Balaerys, Balemond Aekylosh, and the others remained in their saddles with elegance, their figures shrouded in the cloaks of the night. The atmosphere seemed electrified by their presence, enveloping them in a realm unfamiliar yet strangely welcoming. The cold winds whispered secrets of ages past, while the land itself seemed to acknowledge the presence of these dragonblooded visitors.
"What Elaena has told me over these years is truly accurate," Aelora Balaerys said with a sense of wonder, sensing the potent magic present in the Westerosi atmosphere. Addressing Balemond Aekylosh, she continued, "It is possible that the mystical essence of this place serves as a counterpart to the magic we have known in Valyria. We need to speak with Benjen Stark; I long to understand and perhaps witness this different form of magic firsthand."
Balemond Aekylosh nodded in agreement, a similar sensation of enchantment filling him. "This northern region of Westeros holds tremendous potential, Aelora. Can you imagine magicians in the future studying this Ice and forest magic, so distinct from our Blood and Fire magic?"
"Yes," Aelora responded, but then she looked at Balemond with a serious expression and said, "But let's leave that for later, Balemond. For now, our objective is to take the first steps toward establishing cordial relations with the great houses of Westeros."
Rhaenys Targaryen, who had been listening to the conversation, thought to herself, "Indeed, it's a different kind of magic. Less aggressive, more intertwined with the land."
Aegon Targaryen, lost in the marvel of the land of his birth, whispered a quiet prayer to the Valyrian gods. "Tyraxes, Goddess of reason and wisdom, if fate allows me to ascend the Iron Throne, I beseech you for the gifts of wisdom and discernment, that I may rule with justice."
Daenerys' gaze swept over the rugged, northern landscape, her sense of wonder palpable. "So, this is the environment where Jon Targaryen grew up," she mused in a dreamy tone, her eyes reflecting the stark contrast from the Valyrian warmth she had known, where she had spent most of her life. She felt a strange familiarity despite the differences; after all, Westeros was her birthplace, where her journey had begun. She added, "So different from the lands I've known, yet strangely familiar. It's as if the essence of Westeros has always been a part of me."
Vaella Balaerys, Aelora's niece, her silver hair catching the glint of the cold moonlight, observed the northern panorama with a mixture of curiosity and introspection. The chill in the air, unlike the fiery climate of her native Valyria, felt calming to her. It whispered the promise of a serene equilibrium, a chance to harmonize the aggressive fire magic she commanded with the gentler currents of this new land. As her thoughts settled on the possibility of finding tranquility here, a sentiment that carried a quiet smile to her lips. Vaella was a creature of fire, drawn to the calm and serenity before her—the opposing forces attracting one another.
Alyssane Targaryen, also found herself drawn to the tranquility of the place. Her vibrant presence, so much like Vaella's, resonated with the peaceful ambiance. Alyssane's fiery spirit recognized its counterbalance in the gentle aura of this land. The contrasts between her passionate nature and the serene landscape seemed to create a harmonious equilibrium, an unexpected attraction.
Everyone was absorbed contemplating nature when suddenly Alyssane, Elaena's daughter and the one with the most profound connection to her through blood magic, gazed into the distance and softly uttered, "My mother is near, her presence draws nearer."
Rhaenys's eyes flashed with excitement. She exchanged a look with Aegon, who subtly nodded to confirm that he had sensed the same presence. Rhaenys's smile deepened as she commented, "My younger brother Jon is also approaching."
With unwavering resolve, Aelora addressed the assembled group, her authority clear. "Aegon, Rhaenys, Daenerys, Alyssane, and Vaella," Aelora stated, her gaze serious as she continued, "Balemond Aekylosh and I will take the lead in these conversations. Your task is to listen and learn as we engage with the people of Westeros."
WESTEROSI
Eddard, along with the others gathered, watched in awe as the dragons unfolded over the terrain. Their imposing forms seemed to emerge from the very legends, and the soft gleam of their scales reflected the moonlight. The nighttime wind swayed their outstretched wings, creating a majestic and almost magical sight.
Eddard Stark, Benjen Stark, Elaena Targaryen, Jon Snow, Samwell Tarly, now accompanied by Olenna Tyrell, Lord Commander Mormont, and Maester Aemon, who had already descended from the carriage, watched the Valyrians with silent reverence. The night wrapped them in its dark cloak, and the eyes of those present met the deep, enigmatic gazes of the Valyrians.
As they approached, the figures of the Valyrians and their dragons became clearer in the moonlight. The gleams of the dragons' scales seemed to merge with the darkness, creating a play of light and shadow that accentuated their majesty. The snow softly crunched under the steps of the beasts and their riders.
The Stark guards, though trained and accustomed to the dangers of the North, couldn't help but feel a certain unease in the presence of these legendary creatures, Eddard observed. Noticing their nervousness and their hands tightly gripping their weapons, he commanded in a firm and composed tone, "Calm yourselves, men. They are not enemies but guests."
The Valyrians, led by Aelora Balaerys and Balemond Aekylosh, advanced steadily toward the Stark group and their allies. Their dragons, with their imposing stature, unfurled their wings gracefully, casting shadows that danced upon the snow-covered ground.
Olenna Tyrell's eyes gleamed with shrewd intelligence as she assessed the unfolding situation. The dragons before her were an undeniable force. The potential for an alliance with the Valyrians was vast. Her mind worked swiftly, considering the strategic implications, calculating both the opportunities and risks this new dynamic could bring. She was acutely aware of the weight of this encounter and the myriad possibilities it presented.
In a hushed tone, she shared an astute observation with Eddard Stark, "Lord Stark, these Valyrians and their dragons could prove to be both a blessing and a challenge for Westeros. Our continent is a realm of ever-shifting intrigues and alliances, and their dragons wield the power to tip the balance in any direction."
Eddard nodded, his gaze fixed on the Valyrians. "Indeed, Lady Olenna. Tonight marks a historic moment, a meeting that could change the course of our land forever."
Jon Snow, now aware of his true identity as Jaehaerys Targaryen, observed the dragons with a mixture of emotions. The confirmation of his heritage had been a startling twist in his life, and now, in front of these legendary creatures, he felt an ancestral connection that transcended time.
Samwell Tarly, always filled with curiosity and admiration for history and legends, could barely contain his excitement. He stood beside Jon, his eyes shining with the fascination of a child witnessing his dreams come true.
Lord Commander Mormont, whose eyes reflected awe and respect, approached Maester Aemon and asked in a low voice, "Maester, what do you make of all this? The dragons, the Valyrians..."
Maester Aemon responded with a calm yet meaningful voice, "Lord Commander, this is a moment that transcends even my knowledge. We stand at the convergence of legends and realities, and the path we take from here could shape the destiny of Westeros."
Benjen Stark, gazing at the imposing dragons and the dignified presence of the Valyrians, leaned towards Elaena and whispered softly, "Ely, this is a twist I could have never imagined. The dragons return to Westeros, and with them, the past and the future intertwine."
Elaena turned her gaze towards Benjen, her eyes warm with affection and reassurance. She reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his, a silent gesture that conveyed her unspoken feelings. With a gentle squeeze, she communicated that there was no danger, only the promise of new beginnings and unity.
A tense silence settled over the group as they contemplated the Valyrians and their dragons on the land before them. Eddard Stark's gaze held a mixture of caution and curiosity. The sight of the dragons, creatures that had not been seen in Westeros for generations, was both awe-inspiring and unnerving.
Elaena's expression was a blend of regal poise and hope. She had anticipated this moment and knew that tensions could arise, but seeing her Valyrian kin on Westerosi soil felt like a dream realized. She understood the weight of this encounter and the potential it held for the future of both lands.
"Do you trust me, my love?" she said affectionately to Benjen.
"Always," Benjen replied, kissing her on the lips.
Elaena walked forward with determined steps, her gaze conveying resolve.
In this crucial moment, Alyssane Targaryen, her eyes filled with tears of emotion, felt a surge of warmth and determination. "To hell with protocol," she thought at that moment. Suddenly, she dismounted from her dragon, Meraxes, letting her heart guide her actions. Approaching her mother, Elaena, she embraced her tightly, her voice choked with emotion. "Mother, I've missed you so deeply."
Elaena, taken by surprise and deeply moved, returned the embrace with equal fervor. "Oh, Alyssane, my sweet daughter," she whispered, her voice filled with maternal love and a hint of unshed tears.
Aelora, observing the tender reunion between mother and daughter, smiled and thought, "An unexpected moment that can break the ice." Simultaneously, she noticed the expressions on the faces of the Westerosi, which had been tense until now, softening as they witnessed this display of maternal love.
After the embrace, Elaena gestured for Benjen and Lord Eddard Stark to approach. "Let's go and meet her brother; she's family now," Benjen indicated to his brother, sensing Eddard's nervousness.
Finally, when Benjen and Eddard reached Elaena and Alyssane, Elaena's heart swelled with love as she beamed at her daughter. She then turned to Benjen and said with affection, "My love, allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Alyssane Targaryen," gesturing towards Alyssane.
Benjen returned the smile, his eyes kind. "The pleasure is mine, Lady Alyssane. But please, you can call me 'father' if you wish."
Alyssane's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. "Father?" she repeated softly, testing the word on her lips.
Benjen nodded warmly. "Yes, and in return, I shall gladly call you 'daughter'."
Alyssane's heart swelled with emotion. "Thank you, father," she said with genuine gratitude.
Turning to Eddard Stark, Benjen continued the introductions. "And allow me to introduce you to my brother, Eddard Stark."
Alyssane's gaze shifted to Eddard, curiosity and warmth mingling in her eyes. "Lord Eddard Stark, it's an honor to meet you."
Eddard's expression softened. "The honor is mine, Lady Alyssane."
Alyssane's voice rang with excitement. "Lord Eddard, may I call you 'uncle'?"
Eddard's lips curved into a genuine smile. "Of course, Alyssane. You're family now, and 'uncle' would be an honor."
Observing that a bridge had been created between them and the Westerosi, Aelora signaled for Balemond Aekylosh to accompany her to where Elaena, Lord Eddard Stark, Benjen Stark, and Alyssane Targaryen stood. Meanwhile, Olenna Tyrell, who was also observing the unfolding situation, remarked, "Lord Commander Mormont, Maester Aemon, it's time to approach and meet them."
When Aelora Balaerys, Balemond Aekylosh, Olenna Tyrell, Lord Commander Mormont, and Maester Aemon Targaryen finally arrived, Elaena, exuding both regal presence and approachable warmth, looked at all of them and smiled. She then said, "Ben, Lord Eddard Stark, Lady Olenna Tyrell, Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, and Maester Aemon, allow me to introduce you to Senator Aelora Balaerys, a member of the Balaerys family of the Triarchy of the Valyrian Freehold, and Senator Balemond Aekylosh, a member of the Aekylosh family of the Triarchy of the Valyrian Freehold and Sorcerer Supreme of Valyria."
Aelora Balaerys, radiant in the faint light, met Eddard Stark's gaze with respect and a touch of diplomacy. "Lord Eddard Stark and allies," she paused briefly, looking at Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon with whom she had already had contact through magic mirrors. She smiled briefly at them and continued, "we thank you for welcoming us to your lands. We stand before you as emissaries of Valyria, seeking to establish dialogue and cooperation between our lands."
Balemond Aekylosh nodded in agreement and added, "The stories of our lands and yours have intertwined in the past, and now we are here to determine how our destinies might interweave in the future."
Eddard's voice carried a mixture of caution and receptiveness as he replied, "Valyria has long been a land of legend and mystery to us. Your presence here has raised many questions and possibilities. However, before any decisions are reached, I, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, extend a formal invitation to you as esteemed guests. I invite you to join us at Winterfell and take part in the ongoing festivities. Furthermore, you shall stay as honored guests. Let us celebrate this day for the encounter it has brought. Conversations can wait."
At that very moment, Vaella Balaerys, her silver hair billowing in the wind, observed the gathering from the majestic height of her dragon perched on solid ground. Her eyes traversed from person to person, capturing the subtleties of conversations and the expressions on the faces of the Westerosi. However, her attention abruptly halted when she noticed a young man who had just arrived and was making his way toward the gathering.
This young man, as handsome as he was intriguing, immediately caught her gaze and piqued her interest. Moonlight bestowed upon him a mysterious glow, highlighting his dark hair and noble appearance. His figure, close to her age, emitted a kind of calm and serenity that didn't escape Vaella's notice. There was something about him that resonated with the tranquil magic she had felt upon her arrival in Westeros—a magic that brought a soothing element to her fiery nature.
The young man seemed to share an uncanny resemblance with the peaceful atmosphere of this continent, a magic that flowed through him as naturally as the winds that swept across the landscape. Vaella, accustomed to the fervent fire magic of Valyria, understood that fire was drawn to air and ice, intensifying her curiosity about the young man.
Unable to resist her curiosity, Vaella dismounted from her dragon, approaching with natural confidence as her violet eyes remained fixed on the young man.
Torrhen Stark POV
Torrhen Stark had sensed the unusual tension in the air from the moment he realized his father was absent from Winterfell. With a curiosity that overrode his usual inclination for tranquility, he decided to follow his father's trail, tracing the clues that eventually led him to this place.
The scene before his eyes left the young Stark utterly perplexed. In the distance, the dragons soared majestically against the night sky, a spectacle seemingly plucked from ancient legends. Ever since his father had mentioned Elaena Targaryen, his uncle Benjen's wife, some time ago, Torrhen's mind had toyed with the possibility of Valyria sending representatives, but he had never expected to encounter the reality so soon.
As he discreetly approached, he noticed the figure of his father amidst a group of people, some familiar and others entirely unknown. Recognition flickered when he spotted Lord Commander Mormont, an occasional visitor to Winterfell, as well as the noble-looking elderly man, whose identity eluded him at that moment.
His eyes then landed on a man who bore certain resemblances to his father, albeit younger. With a flash of insight, Torrhen deduced that he must be his uncle Benjen, someone he hadn't seen in over eight years. The next figure to capture his attention was Lady Olenna Tyrell, her absence from the feast also having been noted.
However, it was the gathering of Valyrian figures that truly astounded him. An older man, exuding an undeniable air of nobility, held his gaze. Beside him, a middle-aged woman with a similar aura. And then, his gaze settled on a young Valyrian woman, around 20 to 25 years old, who stood beside his uncle Benjen. Torrhen needed no more than the stories told by his parents to recognize her as the Aunt Elaena they had spoken of.
But it was the next figure that left him breathless. A girl of his own age, Valyrian in appearance, was observing him with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. The connection between their gazes was instant, and Torrhen felt a strange sense of familiarity that he couldn't explain. In that moment, the little bird that often accompanied him on his solitary walks through the forest flew over to him. The bird was more than a companion; they shared a special bond.
The girl also noticed the bird and offered it a warm and friendly smile, filling Torrhen with a comforting warmth in his chest. However, the girl's expression suddenly changed, taking on a look of jealousy that caught him off guard. It was then that another Valyrian girl approached him. With an intensity rivaling that of the first girl, she caressed his face and spoke to him in the Common Tongue, albeit with an accent that revealed it wasn't her native language.
The girl's words echoed in his mind, "The union of fire and air and ice." Though he didn't fully grasp their meaning, the connection between their gazes and the tone of her voice conveyed something deeper. In that moment, Torrhen felt himself being drawn into a whirlwind of mystery and magic, a destiny that he somehow knew had been awaiting him.
End of Torrhen Stark POV
Aegon and Rhaenys
While observing the gathering, Aegon briefly turned to Rhaenys to inquire about something. It was during this moment that he realized Daenerys was not on her dragon. Perplexed, he asked "Rhaenys, where is Danny?
Daenerys and Jon
Daenerys Targaryen stood at a distance, her gaze fixed on Jon. A mixture of curiosity and a deep, unexplainable connection held her captive. It was as if her heart recognized something in him, resonating with her on a profound level. Despite their lifetime apart, the universe seemed to draw them together.
As Daenerys dismounted from her dragon, her thoughts whispered like a secret to herself, "The boy of my dreams." Her eyes never wavered from Jon, her intense gaze unyielding.
Jon, standing in that space, felt a peculiar sensation—the feeling of being watched. He turned his head slowly, scanning the surroundings until his eyes locked onto a young Valyrian woman, of a similar age to his own. There was something in her gaze, an intensity that reached deep within him, stirring emotions and memories long buried. It was as if her eyes held a secret he had always known but never understood.
As Daenerys began to approach him, her steps guided by an invisible force, Jon's heart quickened. He felt the weight of her intense gaze, as though it bore through the layers of his being and touched his soul. He knew, without a doubt, that this encounter was no ordinary one.
Their proximity brought a mixture of uncertainty and exhilaration. Daenerys was the first to speak, her voice carrying a tremor of vulnerability. "There's something about you," she confessed softly, almost as if sharing a secret with herself. Her eyes remained locked onto his, seeking answers in the depths of his gaze.
Jon nodded, his own gaze unwavering. "I feel the same way about you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's like a memory just out of reach, but it's there, lingering."
As they closed the physical distance between them, it felt as though destiny itself was guiding their steps. Daenerys continued, her words a mixture of wonder and yearning. "It's as if I've been searching for you, not knowing who or what I was searching for, until now."
Jon's heart echoed her sentiment. "I understand. It's like a part of me has been missing, and now, here you are."
Their hands reached out simultaneously, fingers brushing against each other before intertwining naturally. In that touch, a surge of connection pulsed between them, as if a door to a shared history swung open. Memories and emotions flooded their senses, ancient echoes of a bond that transcended time.
Amidst the depth of their connection, Jon's voice joined the winds of fate, his whisper carrying across the space between them. "The girl of my dreams when I was a little boy." And in that moment of shared revelation, the dragon eggs Daenerys carried began to emit a soft, pulsating light. The energy of their shared bloodline awakened a dormant power within the eggs, a power that had slumbered for generations.
BEYOND THE WALL 298 AC
Mother Mole, the esteemed leader of the Free Folk, sat within her tent, enveloped by the gentle glow of campfires flickering throughout the encampment. Mance Rayder, the magnetic King Beyond the Wall, approached cautiously, his mind swirling with respect and curiosity. Mother Mole's renown as a Woods witch preceded her, her prophetic abilities revered among their kin.
"Mother Mole," Mance began, his tone a blend of reverence and curiosity, "I've heard murmurs of your vision – one concerning a fleet of ships that might offer salvation."
Meeting his gaze with her penetrating eyes, Mother Mole nodded solemnly. A sigh escaped her lips, laden with the weight of ages. "Indeed, Mance. The gods have granted me a vision. A fleet of majestic ships, sailing from the southern shores to our domain."
Mance settled beside her, his gaze probing with a blend of anticipation and skepticism. "Ships in the North are a rarity, Mother Mole. What convinces you that this vision promises our deliverance?"
Mother Mole folded her hands in her lap, her gaze distant yet focused as she uttered her words. "The gods communicate with us through symbols and dreams, Mance. In this vision, I beheld our kin being embraced aboard those vessels, spirited away from the perils of the North. I glimpsed verdant lands, a haven where we could carve out a fresh existence, distant from the Wall and its perils."
Mance's brow furrowed, his mind a tempest of contemplation. "But how can we place our trust in this vision? We've faced deceit even within our ranks."
A tranquil smile graced Mother Mole's lips as she met Mance's gaze. "Trust, Mance, springs from faith in the gods and in my communion with them. I've led our people for countless seasons, and each vision I've been granted has guided us true."
Mance's gaze shifted to the bustling camp around them, the community he had fostered standing united beyond the Wall. "Should this vision prove prophetic, Mother Mole, should those ships indeed appear to ferry us to a fresh beginning, you would be sculpting our fate."