The Last Wolf and the Northern Dragon

by Alperez16

Two lives are taken and two not, changing the game forever. Jon Snow is raised by his uncle Benjen to be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North while Rhaella Targaryen escapes to Essos to raise her children and plot her revenge.

19. Back to Where it All Began

Starfall 296 AC

Lady Ashara Dayne.

Trepidation and excitement were all Ashara felt from the moment she received word of Jon's departure from Highgarden and journey to Starfall. That he would be arriving sooner than they'd expected gave her pause for a while and she worried something had happened to prompt her son to travel sooner. Yet she quickly put aside her worries as she concentrated on the fact they would soon be reunited. Jon had been but six namedays old when she'd left Winterfell, seven years ago. Ashara had missed so much in his life and now he was almost a man grown. She knew from the letters she had received after Jyana's journey there that he missed her as much as she did, yet she couldn't help but wonder how he would react to her.

Now she stood on top of the Palestone Sword, staring longingly at the horizon and praying everything would go well. Not even Allyria's foul mood was enough to quell the flame of excitement in her heart.

"What do you mean I cannot go to the Water Gardens?" her sister had exploded. "Arianne Martell personally invited me to join her and the Sand Snakes there."

"We know, but your kin is arriving soon and –"

"He is not my kin!" Allyria declared angrily.

"He is to the outside world. No matter how much you hate him, your not welcoming him will do our family more harm than good." Vorian pointed out.

"Not for the Martells it won't." Allyria countered.

"If you think you'll gain favor from them by hating on Jon, you're even more of a fool than I believe you to be."

"Vorian," Ashara said sternly, not liking how the conversation was turning, before addressing their sister. "All we ask of you is a fortnight. You'll be able to travel to meet your friends afterward."

"A fortnight? That's all?" Allyria insisted and she nodded. "Very well."

"You're too soft on her. Way too soft." Vorian sighed after their young sibling left.

"We have to humor her for the time being. Now is not the moment to antagonize her. Especially when she had looked forward to being invited by Arianne Martell."

"Arianne is the least of my worries. Her tryst with Cletus Yronwood, however –" Vorian's scowl and his tone and where the conversation may go forced Ashara to interrupt.

"Nothing will come out of it."

"And she'll find a way to blame us for it. Not the Martells. Never the Martells. They are never wrong in her eyes." her brother sighed.

"I understand your frustration, brother. Yet there's nothing we can do for now. Mayhap when she talks to Jon and sees how different he is from what she believes, she'll open her eyes to their machinations. For now, she will not believe us or welcome us explaining that she is but a pawn in their games."

"They're getting restless, Sister. Doran didn't like our refusal of Edric's fostering in Sunspear. Our change of heart regarding the betrothal offer will not go well either."

"We cannot deliver your son into their hands. Any chance to have him taken hostage should events play out as we both believe they will, shall be prevented at all costs. We can however offer a fostering to little Ellia."

"So we could have a hostage of our own should things go south?" Vorian deduced, smirking.

"And to keep them thinking we are still open for a match with her and Edric," Ashara added.

"Is it wise to play this game?"

"Wise? None of what we do is, brother mine. Safe, however? For Edric's sake, for Allyria's, we have to tread carefully with the Snakes. Especially now that Rhaella has finally stopped pressuring us about bringing them to our side."

"Viserys' absence makes it harder for us to do so."

"I would not count on Doran or Oberyn's joining us from the goodness of their heart anyway. Had Viserys honored his mother's wish, they would make it so Jon would not live for long should his truth be revealed." Ashara hated to say those words and yet Oberyn and especially Doran could not be trusted with Jon's fate.

"If Aemon doesn't go for the Throne, then it would fall to Viserys to rule the Seven Kingdoms."

"Then his days would be shortened as soon as they would get an heir for the Throne. You know very well that Doran only wants his blood there, and there would be nothing the Dragon Queen could say or do to change this or prevent it from happening. We would be stuck in a cycle of unending wars."

"I fear war is inevitable, dear Sister."

Ashara nodded, her brother's words ringing true in her heart. She had no doubt that an uprising in Essos would lead to Dorne burning. Robert would turn against them for any wrongdoing, as it appeared he already had after news of Viserys' escape.

Varys had warned them first, not that it did any good, other than confirming he was on their side, and soon a flock of knights sent from the Red Keep came to Starfall to search for the Prince. Vorian had argued that they wouldn't arbor a Targaryen in their midst, lying through his teeth about the Daynes' loyalty to their new King and not wanting to risk the Usurper's wrath. Yet, the delegation had stayed and scoured the land for moons until they were satisfied enough to leave them alone. They would not, could not count on the Martells for protection. Not that they had any power to improve their situation anyway.

Dorne was a place ruled by pride and nothing else. They had distinguished themselves in terms of trade of spices, fruit, and wine with Essos, mainly with Lys, Myr Tyrosh, and Volantis, and while Rhaella Targaryen had ensured to grow their coffers, the Dornish Lords were forbidden in all but words to exchange with Braavos by their overlords. It may soon be time to share their own good fortune when it came to coin with others, but those were thoughts for another day. Today, Ashara could truly only think of being reunited with her son.

Ashara's knees buckled as she stood on the pier, waiting impatiently for Jon to disembark. Her heart stopped when she spotted the young man with dark hair on the deck. It was not her little son anymore, but the Ghost of Rhaegar Targaryen reborn that she saw when she looked at Jon. How people in the South never questioned his origin was nothing short of a miracle, and Ashara was relieved that they all were foolish enough to believe that Jon resembled Ned Stark more than his supposed mother.

The blinding smile he gave her as he rushed towards her made her forget her assessment, and she ran halfway to him before being engulfed in a bear hug.

"You're here… You're truly here," she whispered, feeling her tears come unbidden.

"Mother…" he whispered back, the emotion clear in his strangled voice.

"Let me look at you. My, you've grown so much. My handsome lad." she said, caressing his cheek and chuckling as he blushed.

"And you are more beautiful than I remembered," he replied before hugging her another time.

Ashara would have stayed in his arms were it not for the rest of her family and others who too wanted to be introduced to the boy she'd named her son. Edric's patience was wavering and she could feel his presence next to them.

"It seems I'm not the only one eager to meet you, my love. Edric, this is your cousin Jon."

"I am so happy to finally see you, cousin!" Jon exclaimed, shaking her nephew's hand, which was returned with vigor.

"So am I! Aunt Ashara always talks about you, and how skilled you are in the sparring yard."

"She does?" Jon said, surprised.

"She says I'll be able to become the Sword of the Morning only if I beat you one day."

"Is that what you wish? To become the Sword of the Morning?" Jon asked.

"More than anything in the world!" Edric responded excitedly.

"Then I will make sure to help you achieve your goal, dear cousin," Jon stated mussing his cousin's hair fondly.

"Truly?"

"Aye. I will help you train to the best of my abilities while I'm here. I'll even lend you the services of my fencing master. What say you?"

"Thank you, cousin! Thank you so much!" Edric smiled truly.

"Enough sword talk, son." Vorian's voice interrupted them. "Let me greet my nephew and welcome him into my keep. Well met, Jon. I am truly pleased to see you hale and healthy."

"As I am you, Uncle. Thanks for welcoming me into your home." Jon responded almost shyly.

"You're family, Jon. This is your home too." Vorian said, patting Jon's shoulder, and Ashara could feel her son's hand squeezing hers, showing how touched he was by that.

Not once through the formal introductions did Jon's hand leave hers. She watched how happy he was when Wylla came to hug him, how intrigued he'd been when Allyria barely acknowledged him, and how he introduced Howland's daughter and his direwolf to his family. Ghost had come to her, the giant beast looking straight into her eyes, before plopping unceremoniously in front of her, making Jon and Meera laugh wholeheartedly.

"I knew he would like you," Jon said as she patted the direwolf's exposed belly.

"For a moment, I feared he wouldn't," she confessed.

"He's an excellent judge of character, so I truly had no doubt about it," he replied, his thick Northern accent warming her heart.

"Can I pet him?" Edric asked excitedly.

"Aye, but don't indulge too much in his requests. We don't want him to be spoiled." Jon answered, earning what seemed to be a glare from Ghost.

Ashara laughed at their antics and looked away, only noticing Richard standing by their side at that moment. Her heart skipped a beat when their eyes met and she mouthed an apology to him, yet the nod he sent her way let her know he did not mind and felt no slight at his own lack of welcome.

After all, nothing was more important than being reunited with her son. Jon not letting go of her hand and asking to travel with her in the carriage led her to think he was of the same mind in this regard.

She was shocked to feel him lean onto her shoulder when no one could see them. Ashara well remembered that it was only ever when he felt overwhelmed that he would act overly touchy-feely.

"What's on your mind, Jon? Did you miss me that much or does something else concern you so?"

"I had all but forgotten that you could always read my mood." he chuckled.

"I received a raven. From Highgarden," she said and Jon tensed. "Mace Tyrell wanted to inform us of his delight to see our families joined. A first in the history between Dorne and the Reach since the Conquest."

"Aye, a fat lot of good that does me." Jon sighed loudly.

"What happened, son?"

Truth be told, Ashara was not ready to hear Jon's response leave his lips like an unwavering torrent. From knowing the extent of the Tyrells' knowledge about him to him feeling pressured to make the betrothal agreement without informing Benjen. His uncle and cousins hated him for doing so and his betrothed not wanting the match, leaving him wondering if forcing it was the right solution.

"I find myself thinking the Gods are punishing me for what my parents did by putting me in Robert Baratheon's position." he finished, sighing once more, though this time it seemed it was from relief after having unloaded all of the burden that was weighing so heavily on his far too young shoulders.

"You will never be Robert Baratheon, son," she said, shaking her head as he was about to argue. "The simple fact that you think about freeing Margaery from the betrothal shows that you are not him."

"Yet it won't be that simple. I tried suggesting a union with Desmera Redwyne but Olenna Tyrell said it wouldn't do."

"Is that truly what you wish?" she asked, frowning as he frowned back. "To wed Margaery Tyrell?"

"'Tis what I must do, Mother."

"We'll talk about this later," she said, feeling the carriage halt. "For now, let us celebrate your arrival. I hope you're hungry, for your Uncle had ordered a large feast for the occasion."

"Right now? We're having a feast right now?" he repeated with an incredulous look.

"Welcome to Dorne, my son." she smiled before kissing his cheek, making him chuckle in turn before she pulled him outside the carriage. Again she was surprised, and dare she say delighted, when Jon embraced her and held her tightly once more. Whispered words telling her how much he'd missed her and how happy he was to be reunited, were more than enough to fill the hole in Ashara's heart that the last seven years had seen lodged there.

Her son was home and she would make the most of his presence. Nothing else mattered to Ashara other than keeping the smile on Jon's face for as long as she could.

Starfall 296 AC.

Ser Symon Lake/ Richard Lonmouth.

Seeing them so happy simply being with one another was a boon to his heart. Both Ashara and Aemon were dear to him, and knowing how their absence had affected them both had hurt Richard almost as much as it had them. It had been a long time since he'd seen Aemon smile a true smile and it didn't surprise him that it was Ashara who brought it out of him. However, Richard wagered that someone else would be able to do so, should she change her mind about her future husband.

Mother and son had wished to spend the night talking about things that could not be said in letters, Richard hearing secrets being whispered from behind the doors that he had heard spoken long ago but had never dared to utter to his charge. Words of magic lost to most in Westeros except for the North, even to some in the North, were pronounced without a care in the world.

How much of a weight had it been for Aemon until then, to keep it from his family? he wondered.

"You should tell your aunt and uncle. Keeping secrets from them will only further the rift between you." Ashara chastised him.

"You think I did wrong back there, don't you?"

"What I think matters not."

"It does to me." Aemon retorted.

"I think you did what you thought you had to do," Ashara assured.

"But I should have done otherwise."

"You hurt your uncle by acting rashly. He deserved to know right after you sealed the deal, as a courtesy," she explained.

"I… I was afraid he would not understand. He did not, in the end."

"Then make him, Jon. Make him see what he couldn't. Write to him and your aunt. Do not let the resentment fester."

"I… I cannot. The things he said… I understand he was cross with me, but to think I would deliberately choose my paternal side over him…"

"If I know anything about Benjen Stark, it's that his anger comes from a place of fear. That was his fear talking, Jon. Not him. He loves you very much, never doubt that…"

Silence etched between Mother and Son, and Richard sighed knowing what it meant. He chuckled when he heard Ashara do the same.

"Very well, you stubborn Northern fool. Do send word to your Aunt that you arrived safely, at least."

"I will write to her tomorrow."

"Good. Now tell me about your betrothed," she exclaimed, making Aemon snort and Richard laugh aloud, tuning them out for the rest of their conversation as he knew he would not hear anything he hadn't before and wanted them both to enjoy their time together.

Ashara left the room at a late hour, looking exhausted but content.

"Thank you for bringing him here safely," she said, warming his heart as she pressed his hand. "Though I should scold you for letting him compete in the jousts."

"You know how stubborn he can be when he puts his mind to something. There would be no changing his mind. The least I could do was to make sure he would be prepared for it."

"How bad was it?" she asked, and he didn't need much to know what she was talking about.

"He is still the same terrified lad you knew back then."

"I saw this. Benjen?"

"Is pulled in all directions, his loyalty to Aemon and his fear for his family's safety put him at odds with the Red Keep."

"I don't think Jon's stunt with the Tyrells will help, unfortunately."

"He did the right thing." Symon protested. "Not for the best reasons, but he did the right thing."

"I know. It had to happen sooner or later. The Tyrells knowing the truth would always be a liability."

"That's what Aemon kept saying, though I doubt this was the only reason why he rushed the betrothal."

"Why would he –"

"Their eagerness was one cause, but I think Aemon would not wait for Joffrey to get a chance to steal the Rose of Highgarden." he cut her off, making her gasp in surprise.

"You mean…" she started, looking straight into his eyes as he nodded to her. "I thought he disliked her…"

"If his reaction to her rejection wasn't proof enough, the way he sought her favor… It was looking back several years ago, only it was not his father doing so."

That Aemon never realized it was not a surprise. Northmen, Richard had learned through the years, were pretty oblivious when it came to matters of the heart, especially when they had something else on their mind. Aemon wishing not to follow the path Rhaella had wanted for him was one of the reasons he was so oblivious to his feelings toward the precious Rose of Highgarden.

"And the girl?" Ashara asked, her cold tone showing her maternal instinct had kicked in.

"Is no She-Wolf, but she has a temper all the same. And a lot of ambition."

"And she feels my son is not good enough for her." Ashara deduced, her violet eyes growing darker and mirroring her anger.

"She wants to be Queen, but it seems neither Mace nor Olenna trusts her not to use Aemon's truth against him."

"I see. Mayhaps I should… Pay a visit to Highgarden? To take a measure of my future gooddaughter?"

"Careful, Ash," he warned gently.

"You know I always am." she defended herself, looking almost offended by his words.

"Not when it comes to those you care about."

"You're one to talk." she scoffed. "Look at the mess we're in!"

"What would you have me do?"

"Advise him not to let his emotions get the best of him! It would do us no good if Jon starts acting like his parents, doing as he pleases because he's infatuated with someone!" she said, with the annoyed glare on her face that he had missed so much.

"As I said, I believe he did the right thing."

"Because you want him to go for it!" Ashara challenged.

"I thought this is what you wanted too."

"Not if it hurts him. Never if it hurts him. His relationship with his family is worth more than the Iron Throne."

"The Iron Throne is the only thing that will protect his family. All of his family, Ashara. Not just the Targaryens. He wants to protect you as well. He feels he has to do everything he can to make sure the war, if it happens –"

"When it happens –"

"Comes on his terms, and at the latest moment possible. The Tyrells are a greedy lot. The Oaf had asked for Beth's hand for Loras."

"Jon told me of this, and of Olenna's desire to see a match between Willas and Allyria."

"He will never force them to marry against their will. This, more than anything, prompted him to agree to the betrothal sooner than he would have and to feel more pressure because of the options he would not take. The same reason he doesn't want to talk to Rhaella was the reason he felt pushed him to his fate. Not letting anyone else be forced on his behalf to marry against their will."

"But you said –"

"I know. He was truly overwhelmed and apart from Meera and myself, he felt he had no one to turn to. No one he wanted around to guide him, mind you. So I do not blame him for doing what he did. Nor do I blame him for rushing to Starfall when he felt his world crumble around him because I would have done the same."

"I don't blame him, I just worry about his well-being. And I hate myself for not being there."

"Now is not the time to wallow in regrets or worries. You're here with him now. That is all that matters." he reassured her, hoping the truth in his words would be enough for her to get over the guilt she felt.

"Thank you, Richard. Truly. For being with him and watching over him when I couldn't."

"He's grown to be a very interesting and accomplished young man. Better than what I expected. Yes, he has his flaws, but I believe he is truly someone we can be proud of. He even turned down my offer to knight him so Loras' accomplishments would not be outshined." he said proudly.

"Jon has always been torn between what he wants and what is expected of him, by both parts of his family." she pointed out sadly. "He doesn't realize yet that both align and so it tears him apart."

"He's starting to come to terms with it. Now there are others who shall do the same. Others that we must bring to this realization before it's too late. Only you can do that."

"I'll… I'll send word to Barbrey and Rhaella. I'll try to explain. For his sake."

"But now, my Lady, you ought to sleep. You look like a White Walker from Old Nan stories." he japed, wanting to lighten the mood.

"That's the best compliment I received from you in years, Ser. I shall heed your counsel right away." she retorted playfully, and Richard stood there, losing himself in the sparking violet eyes of hers before she and they disappeared from his view.

For a moment, he felt out of place. Lost in his thoughts and utterly confused. How long had it been since he had seen Ashara? Six, nay, almost seven years? The last time he remembered how devastated she'd been from leaving Aemon behind. Her eyes had lost their sparkle and she was just going by the motions, helping Vorian, Allyria, and Edric cope with the loss of her goodsister to the best of her abilities. He'd known how hard being in Dorne, surrounded by people who despised her, some being her own kin, was affecting her, yet it seemed that Aemon's presence here had already made her slowly come back to the old Ashara.

Why does it surprise me? They'd missed each other so much.

Over the next few days, Richard watched with relief as Aemon opened more to Ashara and she did the same. That the Lady of Starfall welcomed Meera with open arms had too helped make Aemon even happier. Spending time with them and sparring with Edric raised his spirits and Richard struggled to remember a time when Aemon behaved without a care in the world for what was said about him. Even Allyria's barbs toward Aemon didn't seem to affect him much.

"She can't hurt me more than I already have myself." he heard Aemon say to Ashara when the latter apologized on her sister's behalf.

It was in moments like these that the boy reminded him of Rhaegar. For all the joy he could share with his loved ones, there was still melancholy he could never shake, a darkness inside that no amount of love or happiness would ever reach.

"Was this why he left with Mother? Because she made him happy?" Aemon had asked him once.

"I believe so. I pray they both found the happiness they desperately sought with each other."

"Was it worth the pain in the end? For their families, them? For the Seven Kingdoms?"

"Your Father used to say that Love is the Bane of Honor, The Death of Duty."

"Duty is what keeps you alive."

"All Men must die, Jon." Richard had retorted. "That's what they say in Essos."

"What does Syrio say to the God of Death?" Aemon said, smirking, and Richard chuckled at that. "Love makes you do foolish things, Ser Symon. Asher Forrester almost lost his life because of it. Mother, Father…"

"Yet if you ask Asher if he regrets loving Lady Gwyn, he would say never."

"You're right. I hope they will be reunited soon." Aemon sighed.

"You made it so he could gain back the honor he had lost. When the time is right, his efforts will be rewarded."

"Aye, but will it be enough for him to be happy?"

"Only the Gods know, Jon," he said, patting his future king's shoulder.

Richard could understand how conflicted Aemon was, for he could not give an answer to what had happened between Rhaegar and Lyanna. He had been kept at arms' length during the Rebellion, not truly understanding what went on before it was too late.

Once, before living in the North and hearing stories about Lyanna Stark, he had thought as Jon Connington did. Mind him, he was not as infatuated with Rhaegar as the Griffin was and he didn't know Lyanna Stark as Arthur did, but to have Rhaegar forswear his vows to Elia Martell to wed her meant it was more than a silly tryst between a Prince and a Lad. Yet, more than once he'd wondered what had lured Rhaegar towards the girl. His friendship and admiration for the Prince had suffered from the lack of transparency, yet Richard would never blame him for following his heart. Not when he'd known how both Rhaegar and Rhaella suffered under the Mad King's rule.

People should not talk ill of the dead anyway.

Looking at Aemon, at the boy he had been and the man he was becoming, the only regret Richard could have was that their parents weren't there to see him. Their absence was felt by most of their loved ones, none more than Aemon himself. This was why what the lad asked his adoptive mother one night while at the Palestone Tower shouldn't have surprised him, yet it did all the same.

"I was born on these lands, was I not, Mother?"

"Aye. By all accounts, you're as much Dornish as I am." she japed.

"Is it far from here? I… I wonder if I could visit… You know, I've been to the Trident and I did something to honor my father's memory, but I never got to do the same with Mother."

"You've honored her in the Crypts of Winterfell."

"Aye, but it's not the same. She… She died there, because of me. I… I need to pay my respect properly." Jon's voice cracked and he turned away to wipe his eyes.

"I don't know if it's a good idea, Jon."

"I've thought about it. Uncle Ned fell there too. As well as Aunt Bey's husband. It wouldn't seem too out of the ordinary to pay my respect to where my supposed father and aunt fell, right?"

"That's not –"

"What went on there preys on my mind, Mother. I do not understand how it could go so wrong. How they could fight, how she could die this way… I need to go there, to understand why –"

"You won't get any answers by looking at a decrepit tower, Son," Ashara argued.

"Still, I want to. I feel this is something I need to do." Aemon insisted, and Richard could hear in the boy's tone the raw pain that resonated within.

"We should all go. For his sake." the knight found himself saying involuntarily.

He remembered he had felt the need to do the same, to travel to the Trident to see where Rhaegar had fallen. His support to the Dragon Prince made him a stranger from his family, a rogue knight after the Rebellion, yet he could not find it in his heart not to mourn him. The loyalty he'd given so freely to Rhaegar had no boundaries, and Richard would keep to his word by protecting his son.

"Very well. I will set up the journey there but know that you'll only find stones and sand. Nothing more." Ashara stated coldly before walking away, leaving her son alone with his thoughts and Richard with his sorrow.

Starfall. 296 AC.

Lady Allyria Dayne.

Allyria had observed him parading around her family's keep as if it were his own. She'd witnessed him talking to her family as if he was truly one of them, calling Ashara his mother and sometimes hugging Wylla as if she was a long-lost family member.

Everyone in the household, even though most of them knew he was a pretender, seemed to accept him wholeheartedly. Edric, the little traitor, always wanted to play or spar with him, and Jon Stark, damned him, obliged anytime.

As if all of that wasn't enough, the boy had a direwolf, an adorable, yet fearsome one who kept annoying her with how silent he was. The beast always crept on her as she tried to find evidence to show Vorian and Ashara that their dear Jon was far from perfect and Ghost had almost made her soil herself thrice.

Of course, the boy had tried using his charms on her, learning of some of her centers of interest to play her as he did Edric. He brought her some purple fabrics, as well as silver jewels he had made for her. Allyria, however, stubbornly refused each of his presents, and she managed to stay strong as she did so, even when looking at his saddened face.

She had learned much in her studies about the Targaryens and their ethereal beauty. One of them, King Maekar, had married into their family, and the remaining Targaryens were thus distant kin with her paternal branch. Jon Stark looked not much like a Targaryen as she distantly remembered seeing Rhaegar and Viserys when she visited Ashara in the Red Keep. Though she did not like him, she could admit he was handsome. His dark hair and dark eyes, almost violet for those who knew this shade, made him look more like a Dayne, and so she understood how Ashara had been able to sell the lie for so long.

"Aunt Allyria?" he startled her, and she looked aghast as Ashara stood smirking next to him.

"By the Gods! You're even more quiet than that beast of yours!" she grumbled. "When did you learn to sneak on people like this, Sister?"

"When I had to teach my sneaky sister a lesson." Ashara chuckled.

"You'll get there one day, Aunt, I promise." Jon teased her and she huffed in annoyance.

"First the wolf stealing my food, now you, giving me a scare. I can't even be safe in my own keep."

"Ghost loves to get on your nerves. Probably because you do not like me." Jon said and Allyria thought she heard a tinge of sadness in his voice. "I only know of one he blessed with his antics this way and she too likes me not?"

"Who is that?" Ashara asked.

"Why, my lovely betrothed!" Jon sighed loudly.

"Well, I suppose I will bear his presence until I'll be given leave to travel." she retorted.

"Don't be rude, Ally!" Ashara admonished her.

"Have I done something to displease you?" Jon asked.

"Apart from putting my family in danger by simply existing?" she answered with disdain.

"I see." Jon's shoulders slumped.

"Why did you come here anyway?" she sneered. "Don't you have people to rule in the North or feasts to attend with your Flowery friends?"

"Allyria!" Ashara yelled.

"I wanted to see Mother and to meet you all. I consider you family, though I understand why you would not feel that way with me. I'm truly sorry for everything you've been through because of my kin." Allyria could feel he was sincere, yet she could not let go of her anger.

"My future has been ruined because of you." she spat, her fury growing when he frowned. "You don't know, do you? I'm a woman grown, flowered since the age of two and ten, and I received no marriage proposal. Not one."

"I believe you're mistaken," Jon said while Ashara paled, perplexing her. "You should talk to Mother about it. 'Tis not my place to say things related to you and your family. After all, I'm not part of yours, right?"

"Jon, I —"

"All is well, Mother." Jon cut Ashara off with a kiss on her cheek. "Talk with your sister, I will meet with Ned and wait for you to come."

Allyria briefly felt a sense of satisfaction at forcing Jon Stark away, however, how he walked, how it was that her words had affected him deeply, soon brought on a feeling more akin to shame. Her sister's own emotion was anger and it was that which Ashara now spoke to her with.

"You have some nerve, talking to him like you did! All he wants is for you to accept him, and —"

"What did he mean?" Allyria ignored her sister's remonstrance and instead, she attacked back right away.

"He was right when he said you were mistaken. Vorian received proposals from the North, the Reach, and the Riverlands. All to receive favor with the future Warden of the North."

"You let me believe there wasn't anyone interested?" Allyria said, deeply hurt.

"We know of your stance about non-Dornish Houses, and that you've set your sights on Cletus Yronwood. We sent numerous proposals to Lord Anders and Cletus himself when he came of age, yet all of them have been refused. Would it have stroked your ego to know that you were sought after? Would it matter to you? You would have discarded them all anyway."

Allyria wanted to protest, but she knew Ashara was right in her assessment. She would have refused anyone who wasn't from Dorne, and she knew that because of her family history, few would ever consider her. To hear that Cletus Yronwood, whom she lost her maidenhead to, would refuse her was hurtful, and she couldn't believe it, preferring instead to lay the blame on her family. Yet curiosity won out and the need to know who it was who wished a match with her was at the forefront of her thoughts.

"Who had asked for my hand? I have a right to know."

"From what I know, House Karstark, House Ryswell, House Umber, and House Manderly in the North -"

"I don't want to go North," Allyria said harshly.

"In the Riverlands, House Blackwood and House Frey."

"And you wonder why I would have refused?" she huffed.

"As for the Reach, Jon arrived with a proposal from all branches of Olenna Tyrell's kin."

"You mean…"

"A proposal to wed either Lord Horas Redwyne, Ser Humfrey Hightower or… Willas Tyrell."

Allyria gaped at her sister, bewildered by the news shared with her.

"They want me to wed the heir to the Reach?" Allyria was shocked.

"Olenna would do anything to make sure her family is tied to Jon. She forced him to betroth himself to Margaery Tyrell –"

"Wasn't it already?" Allyria sneered.

"A plan he never agreed to in the first place."

"And now you want me to be part of your scheme? To be a pawn in your games? To wed the crippled Heir to the Reach?"

"We never said we would accept, and Jon wasn't the one who made the… Wait! Allyria, where are you —"

Allyria's ire was raised and so she was too far gone to hear more on this. She didn't know how they did so, how they manipulated everyone so that Cletus would refuse her hand in marriage and so Willas Tyrell, a Reachman, would be the only potential choice for her, but she knew the Targaryens had a hand in it.

She stormed into the sparring yard, uncaring of the people around her, and unceremoniously grabbed Jon's arm to pull him aside, ignoring Ned's protests. He didn't fight her and though he could, if he wished, simply stop her from doing so, Jon allowed her to march him to her brother's solar.

"How could you?" she spat when they were alone in the Lord's solar.

"I don't —"

"You think you have a right to interfere in everyone's life? That you can do all that you please and treat each of us as your pawns? I will never do what you want of me. Do you hear me, on Stark or Aemon Targaryen, I care not for your name, you do not get to make me do as you wish" Allyria felt proud of how firmly she spoke the words and reveled in the look of confusion on Jon's face, convincing herself that it was the first time someone had told him no that was the reason for that look.

"I never asked you anything," Jon replied after a few moments of silence, his confused look now one that Allyria was a little more unsure about.

"Of course you did not. You never ask. You and your kin demand and take, uncaring of how it will affect people. Your father —"

"Do not speak of those who are not here to defend themselves," Jon growled, and Allyria suddenly felt the change between them and in him.

Where he was calm and collected usually, she could see raw anger, the same that was brewing inside of her. She believed too that she could hear his wolf growling outside and scratching the door. However, later she remembered that Ghost was silent and mute, so it could only have been in her head that she heard the growling. Allyria suddenly realized that she would surely be reprimanded for that too later.

"We're in this situation." Jon paused and took a deep breath. "I am in this situation because I care too much about others, not the opposite," he said through clenched teeth. "You think I want to marry someone who despises me and everything I love? Do you think I want to do my grandmother's bidding and be tied to a grasping family who wishes for me to be more than I want? I've feared my secret being discovered ever since I knew the truth. I fear for my family's lives, for my loved ones' lives, which include you even though you hate me."

"I don't need you to fear for me."

"And I don't need you to marry Willas Tyrell. I take care of my own and do so by myself. I let the one person I considered my mother leave so you could be together. It hurts every day to be away from her. You know how I feel. I know you missed her too."

"Do not presume to know anything about how I feel," she said angrily.

"Very well. I still don't need you nor do I need anyone else to solve my problems. Everything I ever did or will do was to see my family happy, even if it came at the cost of my own. Can you say the same?"

"You little —"

"You can whine and moan all you want, for all I care, but do not mistreat my Mother or my Uncle because you feel life is unfair to you. Life is unfair for everyone, they are suffering as much as you or I and through no fault of their own and I won't tolerate you behaving petulantly toward them."

"Is that how you speak to your so-called family?"

"Aye, if they behave like arses, I do. If you cannot be true to your loved ones, how can you expect to be true to yourself?" he answered, still unyielding but his smirk showing he was done chastising her.

It came over her so suddenly that she knew not the reason why it did so. Her anger which had allowed her to be righteous and justified, now simply washed away and Allyria knew not how to take it.

"You're truly not the one behind the proposal?" she asked after some moments of silence.

"Knowing you barely can stand me as your nephew, the last thing I would ask is to call you goodsister." he joked. "Moreover, I would not never force anyone, let alone my kin, to wed against their will."

"But Cletus… He said…"

"Cletus?"

"Of House Yronwood. His father must have been the one to refuse the proposal," she explained, still lost in thoughts, and she could see his cold gaze turn into understanding.

"I see. I do not know of Dorne, and I know too much of the weight of an heir to do their duty to their people and their family. But there's one thing I know for sure."

"What is it?"

"If he didn't tell you anything about the match not being agreed, he's playing you. See for yourself, Aunt. Ask him if he knows of the status of the match. And let him see that fiery temper of yours should he dare lie to you."

"You're still calling me Aunt." she pointed out.

"You're my Mother's sister and you will not be rid of me easily." he retorted, winking at her, all trace of his previous bout of anger disappeared from his face.

Their conversation left her to ponder a lot of things. She still did not trust him, but she couldn't deny that his presence made Ashara happier than she'd ever been with them since she came back. So she resolved to speak to her sister and to do so with eagerness for the truth and not with recriminations and anger for what very well not be.

"Was I the reason why you didn't visit him?" she asked one day.

"Yes. You and Edric both needed me."

"Was it because you feared that I would spill his secret?"

"Part of me thought you would. You have quite the temper… But I also realized how abandoned you felt after I left. You were pretty annoying back then, still are, to be honest."

"Hey!"

"But when I came back from the Red Keep, you took care of me even though you were young. You mourned my babe as much as I did. We grew close in that short period and then I up and left out of the blue."

"It was truly hurtful," Allyria admitted. "Losing our Father, Arthur leaving, then you…It was a lot for me to take in at my age."

"And I am truly sorry for all of it."

"About Cletus…" Allyria started. "Is there a time when he wrote himself about the betrothal?"

"The last time was after your last journey to Yronwood. Did he promise you… Have you…" Ashara didn't need to ask more, for Allyria broke into loud sobs. ''Oh, my dear… I figured as much."

"He ruined me, Ashara. He told me he would marry me and… He made a fool out of me and now I'm ruined…"

"You're not ruined, Sister. You are strong and worth more than this pitiful boy who thought he could string you along."

"I want to make him pay. I want to show him what he will be missing."

"As much as I dislike the idea, I only see one way to do so. You must marry someone with a higher status than him."

"The Martells would never —"

"I was not thinking about the Martells." Ashara interrupted her.

Allyria gasped and shook her head.

"I'm not leaving you," she stated firmly.

"You don't need to leave me. I can be your lady in waiting if this is your wish."

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?" Ashara said, confused.

"Isn't there somewhere else you want to be? Someone you want to be with?" Allyria asked, only realizing they never talked about Ashara's life, needs, or wants.

"Seeing you all with families of your own will fill my heart with joy. Be it you, Edric, Jon, and even Vorian should he remarry." her sister said with a sad smile on her face, breaking Allyria's heart.

"Don't you want to marry at all? You're still young, sister."

"Mayhaps I will, one day, I was thinking of offering myself to the Tyrells to get Olenna off Jon's back."

"Truly?"

"Jon threw a fit when I told him. He is set on being the one to make the sacrifices for his family. But Willas Tyrell is not a bad man, from what I heard. He may be younger than myself, but he would still be a better option than what I received so far."

"You…"

"You thought you were the only one being courted? Oh, my dear, each one of us got marriage proposals. Even Vorian." Ashara chuckled. "You should have seen his face when Walder Frey suggested one of his daughters because he must provide more than a spare for his keep, as he did!"

"The nerve of the Old Weasel!" Allyria exclaimed, offended.

"Walder Frey was not even the worst offer we received. Tywin Lannister had dared ask for my hand in marriage for his dwarf son to use me to get the North riches."

"He did?" Allyria exclaimed, horrified.

"More than once. He stated he would overlook the fact that I was not in my prime and ruined already. Every time I receive a proposal, these are the terms I receive. The Royces, the Tarlys, even Hoster Tully sent me a proposal to wed his son when we both know his daughter hates my guts."

"This is awful!"

" 'Tis the way of the world." Ashara sighed. "And the reason why I am unwed. Jon worries I would not find someone worthy of me and I worry I cannot bring an alliance strong enough for him."

"You would sell yourself for him?"

"Not only for him, I would so you don't have to go through this either, but so far Jon has managed to stay my hand. He was not pleased when Olenna asked for more betrothals than his own and he didn't wish to give her more than the one. He had denied them his cousins, Edric included, he had denied them my hand…"

"But not mine?" Allyria said, feeling hurt.

"His uncle pressed him to force our hand in a letter, angry that he would be the only one suffering and blaming me for having Jon tied to the Tyrells. He was right, in a way. Had I not followed Rhaella's plan… But Jon didn't see it this way. He doesn't blame me. So he said he would talk to us to placate his uncle, but he explicitly told us not to accept any proposal coming from the Tyrells. So, you see, he wants to protect you too."

It was at this moment that she realized how selfish she'd been. She remembered how her sister smiled when seeing the boy she considered her son. How jealous Allyria had felt that he brought Ashara the happiness she knew she didn't provide her. Yet this boy always looked out for the woman he considered his mother more than Allyria ever did.

I am in this situation because I care too much about the others, he had said to her, and it dawned on her how desperate he had been to protect everyone from the fate he chose, from the repercussions of his secret.

Before she knew it, Allyria was crying in her sister's arms, feeling ashamed of her treatment of Jon, who still saw her as his aunt despite her misgivings, as well as the rest of her kin. Too lost in her desire to see her wishes come true, she had completely put aside her family's best interests. That none of them hated her for this made her shame greater, and she felt grateful to Jon for pulling the blinds off of her eyes. Harshly, but it was needed to get through her.

"Come, Sister. Let us join your son and make up for lost time. We can think of betrothals later." she pressed as she gained back her composure, her heart beaming when for the first time in years, a true smile was addressed to her by Ashara.

Braavos 295 AC.

Rhaella Targaryen.

There were certain days that Rhaella looked forward to more than others. Days when word would come from Westeros or Pentos, and Rhaella would receive news about her son and grandson. The ships carrying both Varys' messages to her and those that Jon Connington would share with her had become ones that Rhaella knew by heart the sailing patterns of. While with her kinsman, it was the same time every moon that a letter would arrive and with it, tale of her son.

So waking up today, Rhaella wished to put aside all her other duties and so she did so. She spent her morning breaking her fast with her children and her husband, kissing first the one and then the others as she took her seat. When the time came for them to depart, Rhaella smiled to see Dany take Ferrego's hand. Her husband may not be a father to her daughter as he was to Maekar, but ever since her son's cryptic words about his future and Dany's, he may as well have been, for such was how he acted. As for Dany, she much enjoyed learning the truth of Essos rather than what was written in the books or taught to her by her tutors.

That her daughter's growing closeness to her husband had brought Rhaella and Maekar even closer was just as welcomed. Her son could be odd at times, strange even, and yet Rhaella knew there was a reason for why that was. Just as Dany, Viserys, Aemon and she were starting to believe, her too, Maekar was much affected by his time spent with his dragon egg. He saw the world differently than most people did and Rhaella was in no doubt that because of that, he'd prove himself a huge asset to her grandson.

'Should that be Aemon's path,' a small voice in her head said.

The voice was one that she'd heard more and more since Viserys had run away. A voice that Rhaella believed had always been there but one that she'd shut down completely for a time. Now, given what her son had done, what her nephew refused to do, it was a voice that she cursed herself for not paying more attention to. The worry over losing her family due to her actions was something that had long overtaken the worry about losing them to the actions of others.

Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister were still threats to them and ones that needed to be dealt with, However, they were no longer foremost in her concerns. For it wasn't truly them who'd forced her son from her side or had made her grandson refuse to read her letters or write his own back to her. No, on that there was but one person to blame and so Rhaella had accepted her part and was willing to do whatever she could to right those wrongs.

"Would that they gave me a chance to but do so." she sighed.

She didn't notice that Maekar was standing at the door looking at her. Nor that her son bore that look on his face that he would oft get from time to time. Had she done so, then Rhaella may have sought to question him or at least ask him if he was well, instead, her son simply walked quietly from the room and left her at the mercy of her thoughts. It was not somewhere she was left alone for long as almost before she knew it, the letter from her kinsman arrived.

"My queen." Ser Barristan said handing her the letter, Ser Arthur soon being called into the room as Rhaella opened it and read it eagerly.

My queen,

I write to you to let you know first and foremost, all is well with our kin. Viserys proves himself ever more capable each day and has even managed to make a true friend with a man from the North. It was through his own network and not mine own that he was able to come to their aid, yet since then it's become more a friendship than allies that he and Asher Forrester have become.

There are few men as suited for command as our kin, my queen. Few men so willing to learn and fewer still who show such an aptitude for the tasks I've set him. Tasks that while dangerous for true, are ones I've never felt the need to do more than watch over from a distance. For I'd not place our kin in any danger that I felt it impossible for him to return safely from, on that you still have my vow. Still, Viserys wishes to learn and so I've tried my best to teach him all I know. In time I wager he'll outpace even mine own learning and I take comfort in knowing I'm playing mine own part in forging the man he'll one day become. A man that you can be most proud of my queen, on that you have my solemn vow.

Unfortunately, there is one dark spot in the bright tale I sought to tell you, as more and more often we've found attempts made on our kinsman's life. Attempts that originate far from the shores of Essos and ones that are paid for with gold minted in Casterly Rock. Thus far we've been more than able to repel these attempts, Viserys himself proving more than adept in doing so and so for now, I feel confident that the vow I made will hold true. Should things change in that regard, then take comfort in knowing that I will take whatever steps are needed to remove that threat forever more.

Take comfort too in knowing that there is much communication between our kinsman and another of our line. Messages sent and received that are as secure as the one I send to you this day and ones that bring a true smile to Viserys' face each time he receives them. A truer friendship I believe than even the one between our kinsman and Asher Forrester has formed there, my queen, let that bring you as much joy as it does Viserys and me too.

Yours,

The Forgotten Dragon.

Rhaella wanted to laugh, to cry, to reach out somehow through the letter and wrap her arms around her son and to look her kinsman in the eye and thank him for all he'd done. In the end, she did none of those things and simply handed the letter to Ser Arthur before watching the knight's reaction to reading it. A small smile, a proud nod of his head, and a look to her that showed he worried not. Or at least he was not worried enough to suggest riding to speak to the Tattered Prince or Viserys himself. Something he'd done more than once since Rhaella had told him of her son's location and who it was he traveled with.

"It's good that they speak together, my queen."

"That it is, Ser Arthur. It comforts me to know that my grandson holds not my failures over my children's heads."

"My queen…" Ser Barristan began and yet a wave of her hand silenced the knight and soon enough she was left alone with her thoughts once more.

The truth was she did indeed take great comfort in the letters that Aemon wrote to Dany and Maekar. So finding out that he wrote to Viserys too was something she truly welcomed. However, it did widen the hole in her heart that not receiving any from Aemon herself had put there. A hole that was widened further by the fact that just like her grandson, her son too wrote to her not.

Putting these thoughts aside as best as she could, Rhaella spent the rest of the morning awaiting the call from Jon Connington. It was at times an agonizing wait and had it not been for the end of her son's lessons, one that she would have endured in solitude. Maekar not allowing her to do so and she most welcomed having him come to her solar and take a seat beside her.

"Your day was good, my son?"

"It was, mother."

"And your lessons?"

"Need a different tutor."

"They do?" she asked concernedly.

"I need to know more of Westeros, Mother. Of each of the kingdoms, the Vale, West, and Stormlands most especially."

Rhaella looked at her son, despite his young age Maekar was even more mature than Viserys or Dany and more akin to her grandson or so her reports on Aemon suggested. The effect his egg had on him made it so, Rhaella believed. Each of her children showed an aptitude for learning that put her in mind of the son she still mourned. Rhaegar's voracious reading of books had made him as learned as any Maester by the time he took to the sword. In that, his son took much after him or so her granduncle had told her in the letters he'd sent from the Wall.

With her children, their desire for knowledge came about differently from how Aemon and his father's did. While each of them had been able to read from a young age, it was in the lessons with their favorite tutors or on their favorite subjects that they shined. Dany now proved that as she studied at Ferrego's side, while Viserys had shown his keenness in his lessons with Ser Arthur most of all. Thus far, Maekar had gone through tutors thrice as quickly as his brother and sister. None of them lasted for very long and at first Rhaella had worried about the reason why. In the end, it had simply been that her son had learned all he needed and so had moved on to the next tutor.

"Why those regions more than others?" Rhaella asked. Though she knew the reason and liked it not.

"Because they'll cause Aemon the most trouble, Mother. Both when he seeks to take his throne and after he does so."

She sighed as she readied to tell her son that he needed not to worry about such things and that if Aemon decided to take the throne it would be his decision and his decision alone. The eager knocking on the door stopped her from doing so as she bid whoever it was to enter and felt her heart in her chest to see Jon Connington standing there. Looking to her Master of Whisperers, Rhaella smiled to see the letter in his hand and though it was not one bearing her grandson's own words, for now it was enough that it spoke of him.

"We'll speak more on this later, son," Rhaella said and she was surprised when Maekar moved to her and hugged her tightly. Her son was never the most affectionate of her children and rarely did Maekar initiate an embrace.

"We must prepare for the war to come, Mother, you'll soon learn why," Maekar whispered cryptically in her ear and her son was out of the room before she had a chance to react truly to what he'd said.

Knowing she'd need to have an even truer conversation with her son later, Rhaella for now put that off and bid Jon to sit and speak to her regarding her grandson.

"He is well, my queen, most well in fact. Aemon won the joust at the Tourney of Highgarden to celebrate the wedding of Ser Garlan to Lady Leonette Fossoway." Jon began, Rhaella feeling a flush of pride which was soon followed by worry.

"He rode in a joust, he's too young for such, surely…."

"Your grandson is most accomplished, my queen. Both with a sword in hand and atop a horse. My Wyrms have told me many tales of Aemon's horsemanship and how in the North they speak of him in the same tone they spoke of his mother."

Varys had his Little Birds, and the Griffin had his Wyrms. Each of them doing the same thing and yet one set of them being trusted by Rhaella far more than the other. 'As too is the man in charge of them.' she thought as she bid Jon continue.

"Both Aemon and Loras Tyrell, Ser Loras now, are unmatched amongst their age group, my queen. When it comes to the joust, they're almost evenly matched with each other and both take their share of victories in their practices. As for the sword, under Syrio's tutelage, there are few of any age that match Aemon's prowess. A finer tutor your grandson could not have had, my queen. As was proven in the Melee which was won by the former First Sword."

"Aemon competed in it not?" she asked worriedly to a shake of Jon's head. "The Joust, what made my grandson compete in such?"

"Not what, who, my queen."

Rhaella listened as Jon told the tale. Aemon doing much as his mother had done in Harrenhal and acting as the Mystery Knight. Though, unlike his mother, Aemon rode not for honor or to prove a point. 'Or mayhap he did.' she wondered. Her grandson rode with a lady's favor and after winning he crowned that very same lady as the Queen of Love and Beauty. Something that briefly brought a true smile to Rhaella's face and had it happened before her son had absconded, she would have welcomed truly. As she would have the news that Jon delivered right at the end of his tale.

"The Betrothal was announced at the end feast, my queen. Aemon is to wed Lady Margaery Tyrell when they come of age." Jon said happily. Her Master of Whisperers still looked at this as a much-needed alliance and yet Rhaella no longer could.

"Was my grandson happy to do so, Jon? Was he forced into doing so for some reason? Did he accept this betrothal because he knows it's what I wish for him?"

They were the questions she asked and yet there were others on the tip of her tongue and one which she couldn't bring herself to speak aloud. Rhaella truly feared what the answer to that question may be and so it was only herself she asked it to.

'Am I no better than mine own father and as uncaring as he was of what lays in people's hearts?'

She listened not to the answers given to her. In truth, there was nothing that Jon Connington or anyone else could say that would put her mind at ease. As for her heart, there were only two people who could take away the pain she felt there, and Rhaella feared that her son and grandson had no wish to do so.

"From the Spider, my queen," Jon said, handing her the letter he held in his hands. The one from his Wyrm now lay on her desk and it bore the news that Jon had given her regarding Aemon, albeit in a code that few could understand.

Looking at the Spider's words, Rhaella could sense the worry that the Eunuch felt regarding Aemon's betrothal. How having the North and the Reach joined so truly was detrimental to their cause. Rhaella cared not for those words and instead read those that spoke of the reaction of the Stag, Falcon, and Tywin's Golden Lioness. The anger and disappointment felt by the Stag was something that she much enjoyed reading about. However, it did bring some worries with it that led to her calling a full council meeting for the next moon.

After bidding Jon to send word to Lucerys and Bonifer, Rhaella called Arthur and Barristan to her solar and told them of Aemon's achievement and his betrothal. Her knights were proud of the one and happy of the other, even despite her worries.

Later, she ate with her children and was so lost in thought that she once again missed how Maekar looked at her. Dany soon took her from her thoughts with tales of her day and by the time her meal was over, Rhaella was somewhat at peace. She slept alone that night, though she and Ferrego coupled still at times. Rhaella instead welcomed the feeling of the dragon egg as she held it tight to her chest and let it offer her its comfort.

The dragon soared and atop it, she was dressed as a Warrior Queen. Visenya far more than Rhaenys and in this she was far from alone. Dany looked even more like her ancestor than she did while Viserys may well have looked like the Conqueror reborn. His short hair looked striking as for now each of them flew without the protections their helms afforded them.

Looking for her other son, Rhaella soon found him standing on the bow of a ship, the Three-Headed Dragon sails marking it clearly as what it was. While behind it the sea was covered with a fleet that seemed never-ending. It was then she saw him, looking like his father reborn in all but his coloring. Her grandson beckoned her forward and wore a smile on his face that stilled Rhaella's heart.

"For my father and mother. My brother and sister and their mother. For our House and our family." Aemon called out. "FIRE AND BLOOD!"

"FIRE AND BLOOD!" Dany replied before she turned her dragon and flew east not west.

"FIRE AND BLOOD!" Viserys shouted before he and his dragon then headed to the south.

"FIRE AND BLOOD!" Rhaella answered her grandson's call and she and her dragon headed north and only north.

King's Landing 295 AC.

Jon Arryn.

A part of him almost wished that Robert had traveled to the tourney in Highgarden. That he, his wife, and his children had taken the chance to go annoy someone else for once and Jon had been left alone to carry out the work of the realm. It was never truly an option, however. The bad blood between them and the Tyrells wouldn't allow it and Robert would never deign to honor them with a visit.

So he was forced to endure his king's presence and to look on as Robert acted like a petulant boy. Daily bemoaning the fact that he hadn't held a tourney in moons and that even the thrice-damned Roses were having one. Jon tried in vain to explain that they had no reason to hold a tourney while the Roses had a wedding to celebrate and found an unwilling ear in his king as he did so. If it had not been for Stannis then he'd have torn what little was left of his hair out. That it was Stannis who offered the solution was strange enough as it was.

"My brother hosting a tourney?" Robert chuckled. "Have the gods decided we're in the end days, Jon?" he laughed fully now.

"Given your niece's Nameday is soon to be upon us, and that your son's is close enough so it could be held as a joint endeavor…"

"A joint endeavor, I like that." Robert grabbed his mug and drained the wine it held in one swallow before holding the mug for his cupbearer to refill.

"So I'll send word of your acceptance and attendance, your grace?"

"Do that and the Roses, Jon, make sure they are invited too."

"Your grace?" he asked to no reply.

He knew full well why Robert wanted them there. The petulance and pettiness in him demanded that he belittle them in some way and Robert would, as always, give in to such. It wouldn't only be them who'd face some chiding by the king or have to suffer some cutting remark. Jon only hoped that when it came to Stannis and his good lady wife, Robert held his tongue better than he normally did.

With a tourney to focus on, Robert spoke not on the one he was not attending. Instead, that dubious honor fell to the queen. Cersei made ever more disparaging remarks about the Tyrells and those who attended the tourney. Surprisingly it was through those words that Jon learned that the North had traveled with a large and illustrious party. Even the Regent and the future Warden of Winterfell had made the journey to Highgarden.

"For why would they do such a thing?" he asked Petyr as they shared a luncheon.

"The Tyrell's third son was fostered in Winterfell, my lord. Loras spent some years there and so mayhap it's to honor him far more than his brother or grandmother."

"Surely there is no need to honor him so truly, Petyr?"

"You know the Northmen, my lord, how they view their precious honor."

"I do, and were this…." he stopped himself, the mere mention of Ned's name would bring up feelings he'd rather not think about on this day.

"And the boys are of an age are they not?" Petyr said, allowing Jon to force down the memory of his fallen foster son that had once again raised its head.

"That they are, you have the right of it, Petyr, thank you."

"However I may help, my lord, you only need but ask it of me."

He knew full well just how true that was. Petyr had been a gift from the Seven. Gulltown had prospered with him serving there but in truth, his talents had been wasted there and were much more needed in King's Landing. It had taken time to get him a place on the Small Council but rarely if ever had the Crown had as capable a Master of Coin. Something that was much needed given how the Royal Family spent it almost as it came in.

If it was not for Tywin Lannister and the taxes provided by the North, then Jon would have been forced to seek help from other sources. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of such. Thinking of the North, he was soon seeking information about the Tourney and how the Starks had been welcomed to it. Jon hated that he needed to seek out Varys and yet he knew he had no other choice, and so he asked for the Eunuch to be brought to him and waited in his solar to speak to the man. A wait he didn't have to endure for long.

"Lord Hand," Varys said as Jon tried not to cough or sneeze due to the overpowering scent of the perfume the man wore.

"Lord Varys, I seek some news on the Tourney of Highgarden."

"In general, my lord, or is something more specific you wish to know about." Varys tittered.

For the next hour or so, Jon listened as Varys told a tale of the wedding and of how Jon Stark left the feast early when his friend took ill. An image of the boy's father and how proud Ned would be of him doing so was soon in Jon's mind. Listening as he was told of the closeness between Jon Stark and Lady Meera Reed, Jon found himself almost contemplating them being matched. However, he knew full well it was a different match the king sought for his brother by choice's son and he'd not lie and say he too found that match appealing.

That the Starks had been welcomed so warmly and that neither the Tyrells nor the other prickly Lords of the Reach looked down upon them, was something else that Jon much welcomed hearing. Given how high they'd risen under Benjen Stark's regency and their actions during the Greyjoy Rebellion, he'd not accept them being thought lesser than any. Especially not by those who'd fought on the wrong side during Robert's ascent to the Iron Throne.

With his interest in the goings on at the Tourney sated for now, Jon turned his attention to matters of the realm. Soon it was to reports from Essos and while he paid the Targaryens little mind, he was happy enough to see that they seemed content where they were. Not that he believed it would last forever, mind, but he had no wish to fight another war if one could be avoided. He knew that Tywin Lannister was doing all he could to ensure and though Jon liked not the man's methods, he'd not lie and say he'd not sleep better if news arrived of Viserys Targaryen's death.

"Better one man than thousands," he whispered.

Knowing that the hour was late, Jon left his solar and made his way back to his chambers. To his relief, Lysa and his son were already at rest and so the sight he was presented with was one that he much enjoyed. His wife lay in her bed with their son's crib next to it. Both of them were sleeping peacefully and though Jon wished to place a kiss on his son's forehead, he worried he'd wake one or both of them in the process and so he forewent doing so. Instead, making his way to his bedchamber and thanked the Seven that it was that sight and not some of the others he'd come back to see.

His sleep was untroubled and when he woke the next morn he felt refreshed. Little knowing that worries that the day was to bring him, Jon broke his fast with his wife and son and kissed them both when he was finished. It was as he was making his way to his solar that things began to change and his day went from bad to worse with each piece of information that was relayed to him.

Jon Stark had ridden as a Mystery Knight in the Jousts and had done so while wearing Margaery Tyrell's favor. Loras Tyrell had been knighted and the melee had been won by the Braavosi that trained Ned Stark's son in swordcraft. News that he'd thought little of or seen not the potential issues each of those events would raise. A boy wearing a girl's favor meant little after all and so Jon tried to pay it little to no mind. Only for Petry's words to soon be proved true and for Varys to bring him the news that truly ruined his day.

"What do you mean they're betrothed?" he asked incredulously.

"They're betrothed, Lord Hand. At the end of the Tourney, after the Mystery Knight had crowned Lady Margaery as the Queen of Love and Beauty and then revealed he was Jon Stark, a betrothal was made between them that very night." Varys replied, sounding worried for some reason that Jon had no time to ponder more on.

"Does his grace know?"

"I…"

"Does his grace know?" he asked more firmly.

Know Robert did and to say he was wroth was an understatement. Even the queen shared in her husband's anger at the betrothal, which was a surprise because as far as Jon knew, Cersei was set against the one her husband wished. Listening to them both rant and rave, Jon felt he was dealing with children and not a fully grown man and woman. To hear Robert rage and loudly declare that as king he'd deny his consent, however, that was worrying and could not be allowed to stand. Jon was forced to intervene and liked not the look that he was given for doing so.

"You cannot do such a thing, your grace."

"Cannot! Cannot! I am the king and I can do what I bloody well want, Jon, not you, nor the fucking gods themselves can tell me otherwise."

"The North would never accept such a thing, nor would the Reach, your grace."

"Fuck the North! Fuck the Reach! They'll follow my will on this or by the gods I'll…."

"You'll what, go to war with them? Listen to yourself, Robert." Jon said angrily, dropping the king's title and chastising him like the young boy he'd once been. "Jon Stark will not accept a betrothal with Princess Myrcella now, he'll not break a betrothal even on a king's order. Would his father have done so?"

"Ned would never have allowed this betrothal in the first place, Jon, you know this, what he wished for, what I wished for." Robert sagged in on himself and Jon hated that it was his words and mentioning of the man they both mourned which caused him to do so.

"He has shamed my daughter!" Cersei shouted.

"No, your grace, he has not. No betrothal agreement was made between the Crown and House Stark and none but us here know it was what was wished."

"He shames her still and I for one will not accept him doing so. Nor will my father." the Queen said as she stormed from the room, her brother following behind her as she did so.

A hand to Robert's shoulder, a look he'd used on him many times when he fostered in the Vale, and though he had no Ned Stark to brighten Robert's mood when he left, he at least left with the same result he always used to. Robert's consent and acceptance if not his welcoming of Jon's words.

Later as he sat alone in his solar, Jon tried to find the positives in the day's news. With Jon Stark not marrying Princess Myrcella it left them many other options for her hand. A list that he'd wait until the morrow to begin compiling. Given that Margaery Tyrell was now betrothed it took a potential match off the table in regard to Prince Joffrey. Although in truth that match was one that Robert would never truly accept.

"May the gods be good and let the cousins get along with each other," Jon said thinking of Cassana Baratheon and the upcoming tourney at Storm's End. A Tourney that had taken on an even greater importance due to what had happened at the one in Highgarden.

As for the betrothal itself, he cared not for it. Nor how it had come about and blindsided them all so completely. He wondered though if it was a match based on love or politics and decided that he'd speak to Petyr and learn his mind on the betrothal. If it was the former, then Jon could welcome it far more truly than he could the latter. A political match between the North and the Reach, however, would be something that he'd truly need to look into.

Winterfell 295 AC.

Brandon Stark.

Not even arriving home had been enough to calm his fury. The anger he felt at his cousin over what he'd done, had only grown and now had a companion. Bran was surprised to find that there was more than enough of his rage for his father to be added to those he was angered at. Even if he knew some of the reasons why his father had done what he'd done was in response to Jon blindsiding them all.

A part of him had believed that was why he was so upset with his cousin. That it wasn't the girl who was to be his wife but the way Jon had gone about making that happen which annoyed him so much. Bran knew he cared not for Margaery Tyrell and the thought of her being kin to him by marriage was not something he welcomed. Not even the fact that she had seemed a much more pleasant person during their time at Highgarden was enough to make that so. He was of the North and The North Remembers, or so he'd told himself while others seemed more willing to forgive the lady her slights.

He knew somewhat the way of the world and that more than anything else, Jon feared being forced into a betrothal with the daughter of Robert Baratheon. His cousin's hatred of the Stag who sat on the Iron Throne was clear for all to see. If you knew where to look that was, as Jon had by now truly mastered his Lord Face. Still, Bran felt there were countless alternatives to Princess Myrcella and so he understood it not that Jon had chosen the one he did. For make no mistake it was a choice his cousin had made and one that Bran agreed with not.

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"You don't…"

"I don't what? Understand? Make it so, Jon, explain it to me."

"I must do what's best not just for me, but for the North too, Bran, for my House above all." Jon sighed.

"And she's what's best?"

"Aye, she is."

"Very well, so let's say for argument's sake I agree with you, that still explains not why you did it how you did, Jon. Why you kept it from us all."

"Uncle Benjen would never accept my wishes on this, Bran. Not now and mayhap not ever."

"Fuck my father, Jon, I'm talking about me. About Beth…why not speak to us? Why leave us in the dark regarding your plans and don't give me any horseshit that says it's because you feared we'd tell my father. Not after we both kept your participation in the tourney as secret as you wished it."

"It happened so fast, Bran, I…"

"Wished not to tell us. Fuck you, Jon, truly fuck you."

They had been the last words he'd spoken to his cousin before Jon had left Highgarden. The departure was even more sudden than the announcement of the betrothal had been. However, he at least understood that a little better and it had led to a much different and yet no less true argument between Bran and his father.

He was not alone in having that argument either. Beth too had made it clear just how unhappy she was with their father over what he had said to Meera Reed. Both of them swore to each other that they'd speak to their mother upon their return to Winterfell. Something that as of yet had they'd not had a chance to do. Their father instead had taken up all their mother's time and Bran knew full well what the topic of their conversation would be.

It left him at a bit of a loose end if he was being honest. His training seemed lesser without Jon there to take the piss out of him or for Bran to take the piss out of him in return. While he enjoyed spending time with his foster friends, it was his cousin whom Bran truly spent his time with. Only Meera Reed took up more of Jon's time than he did. Mayhap that was why he sought out little Ben. Or mayhap it was simply that he wished to be around family more than friends. Whatever the reason, his younger brother welcomed his attention and Bran even began to put him through his paces in the yard.

"No, Ben, hold it up and turn to the side."

"Aye, just like that. Now come at me."

Each of them had found their own way of fighting during their time learning the sword and other weapons. Loras was all poise and elegance while Domeric was likewise but with a Northern twist. His cousin added in some of the more physical melee tactics that Ser Rodrik had trained them all in. Bran was all wrath and fury, fierce and unyielding when he attacked, and rarely ever did he fight a defensive fight. Jon fought like Syrio had trained him to do and was all speed and movement. His best friend and cousin was the very best of them with a sword in hand and the only one who could somewhat fight with two weapons at once.

Looking at his little brother and easily swatting away his attacks, Bran almost chuckled to see it was his style and no one else's that Ben wished to emulate. He mayhap would have, had Ben not managed to break through his poor defenses and crash his wooden sword against Bran's hip. The pained cry he let out at feeling the strike was enough to cause his younger brother to drop his sword and run to his side.

"I'm sorry, Bran….I.."

"Don't be, little brother," Bran said, dropping his sword and ducking down to offer Ben a hug. "You did very well, I'm proud of you," he whispered in his brother's ear and felt his little arms embrace him tighter.

They spent the day together, just him and Ben and their wolves. Bran took him to the Godswood and showed him where their father would pray. To the Hot Springs where he elicited a promise from Ben that he'd never come here alone and finally to the Wolfswood with some guards so they could let the wolves free to hunt.

That night he ate his meal while sitting next to Ben and it was he and no one else who led his brother to his bed. Bran promised that they have many more days such as this one and Ben looked at him as if he had offered him the world and everything in it. Right up to the moment he turned to walk from the room, Bran felt as if he was finally coming to terms with Jon not being here. Ben's words quickly showed that he was not.

"Will you read me a story?"

"Ben?"

"Jon always reads to me and I…..will you?"

"Aye, I will, little brother."

To his surprise, it was dragons that Ben wished to know about and there were a few books from Winterfell's library under his brother's bed. Bran performed as a mummer as he mimicked reading them while instead, he told a tale of Caraxes and Vhagar and the fight over the God's Eye. It was one of the few tales of the dragons that he remembered for true as the idea of the Rogue Prince jumping from one dragon to another had been worthy of remembrance.

After mussing his brother's hair gently, Bran walked from the room, and by the time he reached the door, Ben was asleep. His little brother doing far better than him in this regard as his slumber was denied to him. Bran left his bed at the crack of dawn and spent most of the early morning with his wolf, wishing that another wolf was there too. His anger at his cousin had turned to something else for the night and he now simply wished that Jon returned sooner rather than later. Eventually, he slept and yet even after waking the next morning and being joined by his sister in his room, Bran's mind was still troubled.

"You look like you've got the world on your shoulders, brother." Beth's voice took him from his solace.

"Aye, mayhap I do."

"Then I'll bother you no more," Beth said moving from him and there was something in the way she said it that made him think she'd sought him out rather than simply awoken early and come upon him by chance.

"Would that be ever true, but I fear my little sister will bother me forevermore." Bran japed and earned himself a slap to the head in return. "Now come, you wish to speak to me on something and I would know what it is."

"How do you…."

"You have the same look that Jon would oft get."

"Unlike him, I speak my thoughts," Beth said angrily. His little sister was not yet ready to forgive Jon for his actions in Highgarden and since Bran too was some distance from doing so, he spoke on it not.

Instead, at Beth's insistence it was to the Godswood and the Heart Tree that Bran once again found himself heading to with one of his siblings. Their walk to and through the Godswood itself was done in almost complete silence. Only his sister's sharp breaths broke the quiet of the early morn. That alone was something that gave Bran pause and caused him concern. Beth was ever the happiest of them all and while his sister could get annoyed, angered, and even upset at times, rarely did her day start with her so pensive.

Upon reaching the Heart Tree, Bran took a seat on one of the small stumps their father had placed there. Four in all with the larger one for his father or one day for Jon. Smiling at his sister when she took her seat beside him, Bran willed her to speak, and yet for some time, she did not. His hand touching her shoulder finally prompted her to do so.

"I'm furious with him. Not for the betrothal or even for his choice of bride, but for how he went about it."

"As am I, as is father and no doubt, mother too."

"No, they'll be more concerned about the bride," Beth said surprisingly.

"You believe so?"

"Aye, I do and mine own news won't make them any happier."

"Your news?"

"I wish a betrothal between me and Domeric."

Bran looked at his sister incredulously. Surely she couldn't be suggesting what he believed she was. Domeric Bolton was not only many years older than Beth, but his affections lay in a completely different direction. Bran may understand it not, yet it was clear to see if you knew where to look and so it was not a match that would bring his sister the joy she deserved.

"You can't." he snapped, a mistake on his part as to deny his sister what she'd set her mind on was a fool's errand. Beth now rose to her feet and glared at him angrily.

"You don't get to tell me what I can and cannot do, no one does. This is my life and mine are the choices I'll live with, Brandon Stark."

"I wasn't, I wouldn't…..Beth, I'd never but…"

"Fuck off Bran, anything else you say now is fucking horseshit."

Despite himself, Bran began to laugh and he was relieved to hear Beth join in. Bidding her to take her seat, he was happy enough when she did so and for the next almost hour or so, they spoke about why his little sister wished for the wedding she was so set on. By the end of it all, he agreed with her not, and yet he welcomed that she'd come to him and spoken her wishes with so much fervor. It was far more than their cousin had done and so while he was not best pleased with Beth's match either, Bran at least accepted it. Much to his sister's relief.

"You'll speak to father on my behalf?" Beth asked worriedly.

"Mother too, gods help me."

"Thank you, Bran." Beth hugged him tightly and then made him laugh with her words as she left him sitting there alone. "You know you'll be next don't you, Bran. Father and Mother won't leave it at me and Jon being betrothed while you are not."

He didn't get a chance to answer her, as Beth was gone in the blink of an eye and Bran was left sitting at the Heart Tree alone with his thoughts. They were not ones he'd had much of if he was being honest with himself. At just one and ten he had not even begun to truly think of girls as more than annoyances that forced him to rein in his behavior and keep to his manners. True, he'd noticed which girls were pretty and which were not. Had even been aware that some had little crushes on him. Thinking of them as a future wife, however, that had never entered his mind.

"Now it seems it very much must do."

Over the next few days, Bran was forced to speak on Beth's behalf. He and his brother spent ever more time together and Ben at six Namedays was far less annoying than he had been at five. Or so Bran believed. As his sister had suggested, it was his betrothal that soon became something that took his parent's attention from Jon's and Beth's. Bran found himself called to his father's solar and was spoken to about what potential future matches would be acceptable. Somehow keeping his tongue stilled and not bringing up that both Jon and Beth had been allowed to pick their own.

"Your mother has a list, Bran, we'd not force you to pick any particular one but you must think of your House and future when deciding on who it is you're to wed."

"Your cousin has chosen someone from the South, Bran, which means you cannot. Jon now not being an option for a daughter of a Great House of the North means that you instead are who they'll all seek to see their girls wed to."

"Umber, Manderly, Mormont, Flint," Bran said, reading the Houses if not the names written beside each of them. "The first two I understand but House Mormont? House Flint?" the question more to give him time to come to terms that the name of his future wife was now held in his hands and written on a small piece of parchment.

"House Mormont is a good and true House and a match between our own and theirs would do much to make people forget about the shame Lynesse Hightower brought down upon them." his mother said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

"House Flint?" he asked.

"Your grandmother's House and one that all of the North would accept as being worthy of having your bride come from." his father said, a soft smile on his face and one that Bran now shared.

He looked at the list and in his head he began to cross off names. While he cared not for politics, not truly, he knew they were important. Jon's own choice of bride had proved that and the way his mother especially was looking at him, so too did she.

"'Tis too bad Alys Karstark is betrothed to Daryn," Bran said, to a surprised look from his mother and father. "It would have been the perfect choice."

"Not one of Lord Wyman's girls?" his mother asked and Bran shook his head.

"I'd prefer to be wed to a woman who believes in the same gods as I do, mother."

There had been few times that his mother looked at him as proudly as she did then. His father simply looked at him, and his mother and then nodded his head before Bran placed the list on the table and turned to walk from the room.

"Do I have time to think about the others?"

"Of course, Son. Take all the time you need." His father said, visibly relieved.

Brandon sighed as he got back to his room, lost in his thoughts. In truth he would have picked Alys because he knew her not and while he had not spent much time with Wylla and Jory or little if any with Wynafryd, he'd prefer that it was not one of his friends he was wed to. He then offered a prayer to the Old Gods that whoever he chose to wed, he'd feel far more for his betrothed than his cousin or sister felt for theirs.

Starfall 296 AC.

Jon Stark.

The journey towards the Tower of Joy had been one that was charged with emotion for Jon. Wylla had insisted on coming with him when she heard of his desire to go, as well as Meera, while Ashara too had agreed to be part of the procession, albeit reluctantly.

"The people of Dorne see the Tower of Joy as an accursed place. I'm certain they think the same of it in the North." his uncle Vorian had explained and he had acquiesced. "Nobody had set foot here ever since you arrived in Starfall as a babe. Not that we know of."

"So it's still there." Jon had said hopefully.

"If Oberyn hasn't torn the tower apart, it should be. Ashara's supposed grief for your uncle's passing has helped sell the lie even more, so we didn't see the need to go there."

"I understand."

"When you come back, we'll have to discuss things even more truly about our arrangement with Essos," Vorian said, making him tense. "We most likely will receive word by that time."

"I'm certain it will be positive. The Iron Bank still profits from what we're doing and what you do regarding the coin you keep is strictly yours to care about."

"It will bring Starfall under more scrutiny from the Martells."

"Speaking of them… How do you manage all of this?"

"Nephew?" Vorian frowned, confused.

"Mother told me that most of the household knows the truth about me, but I didn't get the extent of her words until I arrived here."

"You worry about too many people knowing your truth?" his uncle deduced.

"Do you truly trust them?"

"We grew up with most of them and they've always been loyal to us before our Prince, as we've always rewarded their loyalty and been grateful for it. They saw what happened to Ash's babe and all swore their allegiance to you and renewed theirs with our House."

"And you never feared –"

"They would never betray us. Not when they'd worked so hard to keep your secret for this long."

"How can you be sure?" Jon gulped.

"Firstly, Lord Reed watches over us. He tells me who I can trust and who I should be wary of. Your vassal's network is more intricate than you think, and it has come in handy more than once. But most of all…" his uncle paused. "Did Ashara happen to tell you about why there isn't any Maester here?"

"Aye. There's a curse over them in the Torrentine, and not one of them wishes to come anymore."

"This is what everyone agreed on saying. The truth of it is more somber, unfortunately. I had the Maester killed when Ashara agreed to take on the role of passing as your mother." Vorian said and Jon gasped. "He knew too much, Jon. We simply could not take the risk of letting him send word of you to the Citadel."

"So you killed him because of me?"

"I did it to protect my family, which includes you, Jon." his uncle said firmly.

"And the others…"

"The second happened to find a journal of the previous one mentioning Ashara's miscarriage. One of our servants found out and quickly reported it back to me. The one after hearing it from one of Daella's fevered dreams. He passed before she did, and she begged me not to ask for a replacement. She did not want to risk your truth being revealed because of her."

Jon's heart broke as the gravity of his uncle's words sank in his mind.

"Did she –"

"She saw you as family. As someone to protect. She was willing to go to the Gods before her time if it meant you were safe."

"But–"

"I know what you're thinking. We did not stand there watching her waste her life away, Jon. There might have not been a Maester to help, but we had healers from Dorne and Braavos. Your grandmother sent people from the House of the Red Hands, and you… You sent your mother so my Edric could be looked after. Do not blame yourself for the decisions we took, lad. I have never regretted one of them and you would be insulting my Daella's memory if you now did so."

Finding out the fate of Daella Dayne had not raised Jon's spirits any, as all he could think about was that Edric had lost his mother because of him. His young cousin's smile had been like a stab to his heart ever since, and Jon promised himself that he would do something of import for him.

'He wishes to become the next Sword of the Morning, then I'll make sure he gets the best training to do so. I'll make sure he becomes the best and most sought-after Lord for any alliance he wishes. And then, maybe would I be able to repay him for what my birth had caused him to lose.'

It was with the sentiment of being a burden to everyone around him that Jon started his journey toward the place where his mother, uncle, and seven good men had lost their lives. With the thought in mind that was it not for him, then those men would have lived and their families would have spent many years with them. That his uncle would have lived had he not sought out his mother and as for his mother, Jon would not lie and say that he felt his life to be a poor substitute for her own.

He didn't know what he imagined he would find at the end of the road, but the tower facing him was anything but impressive. It was damaged, to say the least, reminding him of the Broken Tower in Winterfell. Jon couldn't imagine a time when his parents would feel content enough living in that ruin. Nor could he see why they'd named it a Tower of Joy.

"Time has not been kind to the Tower since then, lad, but it was enough for them for the time they spent together. They had found their joy in each other and both would have found it in you too, of that I have no doubt." Wylla had pointed out, making him realize he had talked out loud.

"But he was a prince, and she was a lady. This… Does not look like an idyll nor a place for them to call home."

"They were two people in love, may they be smallfolk or noble, every place would feel like a home when love is involved. Especially when they wanted nothing to do with the pressure of their stations."

"I… Never thought that way. She wanted to get away from the Usurper, and he…"

"He feared more than anything becoming like his father. Prince Rhaegar did all he possibly could to alleviate his mother's burden, as well as Elia's and his own, yet the burden was too heavy, even for him. Your mother's attitude was like a breath of fresh air, a reinvigorating force that he felt would bring him the strength and fortitude to do as he must. That's what I heard in one of their conversations, and I never forgot the sense of peace each of them had when they were together."

"You were with them all the time?"

"Ser Arthur summoned me as soon as they suspected she was with child," Wylla explained.

"Why not a Maester?"

"Because they are not to be trusted, Lad," Wylla said bitterly and Jon once again remembered his uncle's words and what Vorian had done to the Maester at Starfall.

Turning from his former wet nurse, Jon looked to his mother in all but blood. Ashara was facing away from the towers, her attention on some small mounds of earth just to the side and it took Jon a few moments to realize that they weren't simply mounds of earth that had taken his mother's attention. They were graves and the knowledge of who was buried in those graves was forever ingrained in Jon's mind. Two men of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower, The White Bull, and Lord Commander before his death, along with Ser Oswell Whent, The Black Bat. Both men had fought alongside Jon's uncle in a fight to the death against his truer uncle, Eddard Stark, and the men of the North. Ser Mark Rysewell, Ethan Glover, Theo Wull, Martin Cassel, and Willam Dustin. The last two names had much meaning for Jon since one was the brother of Ser Rodrik and father of Jory, while the other had been wed to his aunt Bey.

How Jon managed to walk to the graves, he knew not. His hand when he reached them sought his mother's and he was most relieved to feel her comforting touch. Closing his eyes, Jon offered a prayer to the Old Gods for the fallen and begged their forgiveness at the same time. He promised them that he'd prove himself worthy of their sacrifice and that he'd ensure that they were never forgotten. Then, with a look at his mother, Jon turned and walked to the tower itself. His footsteps were far more purposeful than he'd expected them to be and to his surprise and shock, his hand shook not when he opened the door to enter the tower itself.

"May I find the answers I seek here," he whispered as the door closed behind him.

If the outside of the Tower was decrepit, the inside could very much not be named so. Other than the dust and some withering of the wood, the first room that Jon entered was just as it had been all those years earlier. There were even some signs of the meal that had been eaten in this room and Jon wondered if it was his uncle Arthur or his mother who'd enjoyed that meal. Turning to see the stairs that led upward, Jon wagered that it was his uncle and mayhap Howland Reed, even Wylla who'd eaten here last.

As he moved to take the first step onto the stairs, Jon swore he could hear the sound of laughter and playfulness behind him. Closing his eyes once more, he believed he could hear their voices. His mother chided his father over his seriousness while his father did his best to pretend that her words affected him not. The sound of first his mother's laughter and then his father's following it was more than enough to bring a small smile to Jon's face. It was not one that he wore for long, as what he found at the top of the stairs was enough to break his heart in two almost.

It was one thing to know that you were entering a room where your mother had breathed her last breath in. Quite another to enter that room and look upon the bed and the sheets that her lifeblood had been absorbed by. While those sheets were not the vivid red that they had been on that fateful day, there was no doubt what the stains were and it brought Jon to his knees as he looked upon them. Mayhap that was what led him to the small wooden toys. The sight of them under the bed and his position on the floor that granted him a view of them. Or mayhap he was always fated to find them and as Jon crawled hand and foot toward them, his tears fell as freely as they ever had.

A Wolf. A Dragon. Just taking them into his hands was enough for Jon to know that not only had these been carved for him, but it was his parents who'd done so. The craftsmanship was enough to tell him that they'd been done by people with some skill but no true trade and that they were done by different hands. While the feeling in his heart named the Wolf as his mother's work and the Dragon his father's. Jon, despite not wishing to, now imagined both wooden toys lying in his crib as his father and mother looked on. He pictured other such gifts that they had never had the chance to give him and that in turn led to the true realization that their time in this world had been truly limited.

"Because of me." he cried out loudly. "I'm Not Worth It!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, the sound reverberating around the tower and it was enough to drown out the sounds of people rushing to his aid and up the stairs.

That it was Ashara who entered first, would not have surprised Jon had he the wherewithal to think straight. The feeling of her embrace, her soft words, and how she allowed him to cry against her chest, were all he could concentrate on. The soothing feel of her hands as they softly caressed his back was more than enough to at least get Jon to rise to his feet.

Through tear-filled grey eyes, he looked into her concerned violet ones. Using all the strength of will he had within him, Jon offered her as much of a smile as he could and though she held him for the next few moments, he needed her not to do so. Just the simple knowledge that while his mother and father by blood were no more, he was not alone and without family had been all that Jon truly needed at that moment. Later, he would have questions, things to say, and thoughts to try to come to terms with, for now, this was more than enough.

A week later.

It had taken him some time to truly put aside the feelings that the Tower of Joy had brought up. His mother's words, his uncle's, and those of Ser Symon, Syrio, and Meera, all helped him to do so. The two wooden toys were now ever present on his bedside table. Jon now accepted them as the gifts they truly were and he'd somewhat come to terms with what those gifts represented. He was a Wolf, had been raised to be one, and yet he was a Dragon too. To deny the one was to deny the other and he would do so no longer.

He'd lost family, true, but there was still some family that he had not. So while he'd cut his grandmother off because of what she wished for him, Jon understood now that he should not and could not do so. However, the letters he'd denied himself reading were far away and it would be some time until he returned to Winterfell and could right that particular wrong. There were others he could do now however and the first of them was in regards to his mother's family. The meeting between Jon, his uncle, his mother, and Ser Symon went a long way to do so and the plans they made would see House Dayne thrive. Or so Jon believed.

Jon spent much time with his aunt Allyria and their relationship was a much better one than it had been upon his arrival, though compared to the one with his cousin Ned, they may as well be enemies. The young boy truly welcomed having an older one to mentor him and since Jon felt most at ease in the sparring yard, his time with Ned was extensive and productive. So it was with almost a feeling of crushing desperation that Jon read the raven's scroll that had arrived from King's Landing.

"You should not go, Jon." his mother said as she shook her head in annoyance at the words that Robert Baratheon had willed to be written.

"My sister has the right of it, Jon. I would wager the Stag wishes to bring up the betrothal and mayhap even seek to break it."

"Would that be a bad thing?" he asked, the memory of Margaery's words and how they had made him feel was still a sore spot for him.

"Would you break the betrothal yourself, Jon?" Ser Symon asked and Jon shook his head. As much as he hated how Margaery had made him feel, he'd not be the one to do so. He could not be. "Then you have your answer do you not?"

"Aye, I do."

Rising to his feet, Jon moved to where his mother sat and he could see the concern and worry she had over him once again being face-to-face with Robert Baratheon. Kneeling in front of her, he took her hands in his and offered her his best smile.

"I have been taught well, mother. The lessons you imparted to me when I was but a boy are ones I remember fully. Now, I finally feel ready to use those lessons how they were intended and not how I may wish to."

"Jon I…"

"I will go and be back within the moon, my time in Starfall is far from done, and knowing so will be enough to see me through my time elsewhere."

"Be safe, son, promise me that."

"I promise," he said firmly.

Later he was to find that Meera wished not to attend the tourney and though he'd miss having her by his side, he could never force his truest friend to do something she wished not to. Both Allyria and Ned wanted to attend it with him and yet Jon knew they could not. Just like his mother, neither would be welcome sights to Robert Baratheon's eyes and so he promised them instead that he'd see them attend another in time. Then he said his goodbyes to his uncle, aunt, cousin, Wylla and Meera, and finally to his mother. Jon, Syrio, Ser Symon, Ghost, and a dozen men at arms then made their way to the docks and were soon sailing to the Stag's Den.

"I promise, Mother," Jon said as Starfall faded from view and then he begged the gods to allow him to keep composed and to keep the promise he'd made.

A/N: Another chapter to get this up to date.

Up Next: A prince fights a rivalry that's one-sided as Joffrey decides he really doesn't like Jon Stark. In Storm's End, the ramifications of Jon's betrothal play out even more and a tourney begins. While Jon, Margaery, and others try to deal with their own feelings on the match and navigate being in the Home of the Stags.