authorsnote: a bit of a transition now, do enjoy
as always let me know watcha thing
songrecs: you'll be queen oneday - got season 1
'The horselords come, we give them gifts, the horselords go'
- Qavo Nogarys to Haldon
-x-
Even as they enter the Manse, servants greeting them with a smile, the air cool and inviting, a table of food laid out in the welcoming area, and guards straight backed at the doors, they are all on guard.
They all refuse the servants offers to take their bags, their cloaks, hoods, and weapons. Wylla and Jory stand in front of them, even though Jon and Aegon can now see over both their heads, they still stand protective, as they walk into their apparent new home.
They are like this at every new place now, with the constant threats at their backs. Always ready to take off, fight, defend, if need be, and they have needed to, more than once, always fleeing. They hadn't had a place they could truly call home in years; how could you call somewhere home when you might have to flee in the dead of night at a moments notice?
Much had changed since their childhood.
Gone were the days of stability, of a routine, of feeling never at ease, no, Jory's warnings had ensured they never felt that, but at least somewhat able to sit back. That was gone, Jon felt on constant high alert, and he knew his siblings did too, always in a state of vigilance, as they had to be.
It was that or be captured, that or die.
Sure, they'd never had normal childhoods, they didn't know what that was or what that would feel like, but there had been hints of normality; lessons, dinners sat together, late night cups of hot milk in the kitchen, a lazy Sunday in front of the fire, that was all gone now.
When they weren't fleeing, running from City to City, assassins always at their backs, they were training.
They considered it training now, rather than lessons, as lessons didn't seem to be an intense enough word for what they were preparing for, what they were learning, what they were readying themselves for.
Day after day, they kept a vital bag packed of things on them at all times, a weapon at their side, never unpacking, and day after day they trained.
Jory took Jon and Aegon through combat practice from dawn until lunch every day. Drilling them over and over again, and not just in the Westerosi fighting style, honourable and noble with sword and a bow, no, he'd shaken his head when they'd asked that;
'You're fighting to survive, not take part in a tourney'
And so he taught them the hand to hand combat they practiced on the streets of Bravos, the water dance and flowing styles of the East. He taught them how to fight dirty, how to smash a glass against a mans head and then pound his face into the glass. He taught them how to win, and that was all that mattered, as winning meant survival.
He took them through archery (where Aegon was far more gifted than Jon, though Jon made up for it by being a near prodigy with a sword), horseback riding and then both combined, using Dothraki styles to do so. Nothing was off the table, nothing that was useful. Any fighting technique that would aid them, they learned.
The brothers grew, from boys to men, their flesh hardening into muscle, losing any trace of childhood softness. They both shot up in height, though Aegon the taller by an inch or two. They wore practical clothing, leathers, jerkins, a dagger, and a sword on a belt a constant presence, only taken off in sleep when the weapons went beneath their pillows. Jon favoured a bastard sword, Aegon a shortsword. Aegon had his bow slung over his back too, more likely to do damage their, whilst Jon rushed into battle.
And so, boys turned to men, to future Kings, and trained in more ways than one to do so.
After combat came the lessons, Jory going over and over Northern houses, allegiances, squabbles, and blood rivalries. He talked him through the kind of food made their, trade routes, ambitions of different Lords. He talked them through House Stark, Jon's Mother's House, their makeup, their hold on Winterfell, and through the Nights Watch, Castle Black, and their obligations there.
It was to make Jon an expert in the Kingdom he'd one day rule, as the people over their heads planned, though not all agreed. Jon was trained in the art of understanding the North, its people, and places just as a Lords son would, better even. He didn't slack off in his studies, instead listened with intent and then brooded over his mother's homeland… his homeland.
Aegon though sat with Wylla, who'd become an expert herself in the Six Kingdoms Aegon would one day rule. He was drilled on Southern houses, their fights, the make up of each Kingdom, each House that ruled it, and each one that wanted to. They paid special attention to Dorne, the Targaryen's natural allies, and Kings Landing, his oneday seat of power, as soon as he routed the Usurper out for good.
And he would, with Jon by his side. They'd take the South and then move North, allowing it independence, as long as Jon, a part Stark, part Targaryen King, ruled over it.
That was the plan that had been almost a prophecy to the future since they were children; it was their destiny.
And as they took laps around the manse, as they trained harder and harder each day, pushing their bodies to the limit, as they devoured book after book on Westerosi alliances and what ruling the people their would mean, they kept in mind that destiny, that future, that had been written as law for them, before they'd even been born.
Daenerys future would look a touch different.
As a Queen, she would be, but not to Aegon or Jon. Coming back as Targaryen rulers would be okay, plenty of people still waved the flag and craved proper leadership they weren't getting under the Usurper, but none would accept such a dismissal of Westerosi culture. No incest or second brides accepted, to all of the Targaryens reliefs.
But then, where would Dany's place be?
That was a question that hadn't been answered for them, and as much as they'd speculated, they'd never managed to come up with an answer. Still, that didn't mean Dany was let off the hook.
She trained too, not in combat, though she often wore trousers under her dresses, a dagger at her thigh just in case. No, that wasn't her focus, there were more important things to learn for a Queen.
As the boys trained outside in the heat, Dany sat with Wylla, but other tutors too. She too learned about Westeros, and the North, its people, it's places, alliances and feuds, all that Jon and Aegon learned, and then more.
Dany learned the makeup of the Free Cities too. Their alliances, the different Lords and Royals. She learnt the local languages, studied the local religions, near an expert in each region; Bravos, Pentos, Lys, Volantis. She perfected her High Valyrian (and Jon and Aegon grumbled as they joined those lessons, but too had to speak it fluently), but also her Bravosi, her Pentos tongue, and more.
She also learned the fine-art of diplomacy, the negotiating of treaties and trade deals. As the boys worked their bodies, she worked her mind.
The three of them soon turned from children to teenagers, adults in their own eyes. They went from naïve students to masters of different crafts.
Jon with his sword, filled with the knowledge of the North, deadly, brooding.
Aegon with a bow in hand, the South his domain, arrogant, but fair, ready.
Dany, always holding a book, but a snarl to any who suggested her weaker, the diplomat, but ruthless.
All three of them, Targaryens, and Jon part Stark; ready to take their destiny, when the time came.
And the clock was ticking.
2 weeks into their stay in Pentos, and things continued on. There was a routine now, something close to it at least, with the acknowledgement it could break at anytime. Still it was good, to sit still for a moment, to focus, even if it could be ripped away at a moment.
All of them had gotten used to that, bitter as it still tasted.
"Where do you think the assassins are now?" Dany asked, as they sat for a rare lunch inside, together, books set aside, weapons holstered.
"Hopefully nowhere near us" Jon grumbled, and Aegon nodded, reaching for a peach.
"Hmm" Dany said with a nod, "I guess then, I wonder what comes next?"
"What do you mean?" Aegon asked, as Jon went for a plum, and Dany with a little smile decided to join them, reaching for a ripe plate of strawberries.
After spending weeks on the road, choking down tree bark to sate their stomachs, and undercooked rat meat, they all appreciated food more than they had before.
"Well, say the assassins don't find us?" She asked.
"We take Westeros" Aegon said, and Jon nodded again. That was more their dynamic; Aegon more outspoken, Jon quieter but watching, and Dany somewhere inbetween. "Our destiny"
"But when?" Dany asked, sounding almost like a child asking how long the carriage ride would take, to which Jon and Aegon grinned.
"It's a good point" Jon conceded as Dany shot them a glare, "Forget destiny, practically, what is the actual plan?"
Aegon's brow furrowed then. They'd discussed this at length, but never gotten far.
In the past years they'd been so focused on the 'now', had, had to be. They'd had to look purely from day to day, on the run or preparing to be. They had never been able to look much to the future.
Of course, it had been included in their training. Dany had been tutored extensively in holding peace talks and directing war councils, and Jon and Aegon had received the latter training, as well as how to lead armies, ride from the front and direct hoards of men.
They would always sit at the front, on horseback, leading, as a King should do.
"Well we need an army" Aegon offered, and Jon nodded.
"But where do we get an army?" Dany asked then, again they'd discussed this before but never got far. Not much time for tactical talk when constantly looking over your shoulder.
"People at home will flock to our banner" Aegon returned, "Those who still secretly wave the flag"
"Isn't enough though" Jon said with a shake of his head, "We'd need an actual army, not just those who'd join us when we returned" Jon was the more militarily savvy, Aegon much more so politically. If Jon were not destined for the North, as the younger brother he'd likely be leading Aegon's armies, in many ways he'd prefer it that way.
"So again, where do we get one?" Dany said.
"It'd have to be a foreign one" Jon said.
"But we can't afford mercenaries" Aegon said with a scowl. No, they could not.
The Targaryens had lost any riches smuggled across the sea a long time ago. They were hosted of course, as they were here, but didn't have any personal wealth, not anymore. They'd sold gold, jewels and such on the road, or been forced to leave them behind. They still had some backing from Westeros; Varys and such, but other than that, in many ways they were penniless.
They'd all held onto little things, sentimental, probably better sold, but clutched onto. Dany's Mother's tiara, Aegon's old Targaryen crown, that Aegon the Mad, his Grandfather, Jon his mother's clip, worthless, but priceless to Jon, and the crown of Maekar, smuggled across by Varys. Any diamonds, jewels, had long ago been sold.
They would all wear those crowns when they took their thrones. Aegon in the crown of red and gold, dragon head points with gemstone eyes. Dany's a tiara of pure silver, embedded with rubies, and embossed with dragon scales. And Jon's, more Northern but still a Targaryen relic, black with iron points, a band of red gold, no gems or frippery.
Everything else was gone.
They may have sponsors here and there, like Illyrio, but that was not an army, and armies were costly indeed.
Another lesson; finances for all three of them. The cost of armies, of supply lines, of Castle supplies, of outfitting with weapons, armour, horses. All three of them remembered that lesson now, as they sat grim faced around the table.
What did come next?
They'd never been told, had asked and just been offered reassurance, and then when they'd been old enough to press, they had been swept up in the day to day, not the long term.
This was the first time they'd even managed to think beyond surviving till nightfall in years.
And just as they discussed it, just as the old Targaryen saying went, 'Talk of the flames, and the dragon shall appear', they were interrupted in their meal by Wylla, looking flushed, and Jory with a scowl.
Something had changed.
"What?" Aegon asked, jumping to his feet, Jon followed, and then Dany, who hurried around the table to her brothers' sides, standing behind them, Aegon slightly ahead, Jon a step behind, the loose formation they'd come used to forming.
Forming when there was danger, a threat, something the three Targaryens, still so young, their 17th namedays just barely around the corner, had come used to spotting.
"We tried…" Wylla began, looking not just flushed but upset now, and Jon stepped forward. Wylla had been like an Aunt to them, the closest thing to a Mother they'd ever known, and they all felt protective over her.
"We heard you talking about the plan" Jory interrupted, knowing they didn't have much time, "They've got one"
"Who?" Aegon asked, but then Jory and Wylla quickly turned to find Illyrio, their elusive benefactor, who they had met only once upon arriving stood in the door, smiling, with Varys next to him, bowing his head to them all.
Talk of the flames …
And yet no dragon appeared, but the thud of horses.
dun dun dun
here we go
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