authorsnote: one of the hardest chapters I have ever written

lets all get on the 'fuck vizzy t train'

songrecs: Dark Wings, Dark Words - GOT Season 3

'D'you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave. I told you so'

'We'll go back to that cave. You're not going to die, Ygritte. You're not'

'Oh. You know nothing Jon Snow'

- Ygritte and Jon Snow talk in her final moments

-x-

The day of the tourney came far too quickly.

Jon knew it would happen, it was a moment in history, he was just worried he couldn't do anything to prevent what would come.

Yes, he could keep things on track as far as the Stepstones were concerned, to ensure he left to fight that war, keep Daemon out of it, and stop any dissent in the future, but even he was worried, if all went as it had in the history books he'd be kept behind.

If things played out as they had … if Aemma died, and Viserys' Heir with her. He hated to think of it happening, of the likelihood, but he knew it wasn't just likely, it felt horribly, heart wrenchingly inevitable.

He couldn't stop it, he had no medical training, and even then, he knew of times Maester Luwin had been called to births in Winterfell and Winter Town, and even with his skill had been unable to save Mother or child, it was a fact of life.

And Jon would only be able to stand by and watch.

The morning of the Tourney came, and as Jon dressed, in black, Blackfyre at his hip, a streak of red down the front of his tunic the only nod to the second Targaryen colour … Jon still liked to dress like a Crow, he made his way to break his fast, trailed by a guard, his mind as far away from the Red Keep as it could be.

And yet as he arrived to break his fast, and Rhaenyra waved to him to sit next to her he found himself pulled back to the present, rather than the murky future, as she beamed at him, before turning back to her companion; a blushing Alicent Hightower.

"Alicent wants to know if you're entering the tourney?" Rhaenyra said wickedly, and before Alicent (red faced) could protest, Jon chided his niece.

"Don't blame Alicent for your curiosities, besides how do you not know?" He teased, which earned a giggle from Alicent (and they shared a smile) and a glare from Rhaenyra.

"And to answer your question" Jon said before Rhaenyra could speak, "No I'm not"

"Told you" Alicent said in a sing-song voice, "They don't hold tourneys in the North do they Jon?"

"No" He said with a nod as he began to serve himself some food, "They see no need for them"

Neither did he, but he was no Northerner here, and in truth he had never been a full Northerner, he was half Targaryen, something he needed to embrace here.

It had been easier, with Vermithor, with his cheeky niece, with his place on the Small Council and his own purple eyes looking back at him. But he was worried, he could feel the Stark slipping away, when he joked with Rhaenyra he didn't think of Arya anymore, when he had a fun sparring session with Daemon in the yard he hadn't compared it to Robb. He was fitting in here and shedding his old life.

It was a good thing, Jon had always been adaptable, and he had no choice here, there was no returning to the future, was there? He had to make the best of his circumstances, and the fact he was, and finding it easier, had to be a good thing.

Didn't it?

"So, Jon, if you're not entering the joust, surely the melee?" Rhaenyra teased.

"I'll just be bothering you in the viewing box niece" Jon teased to an eye roll and a giggle from Alicent.

"Where's your Mother?" Jon asked, as he nodded at the empty place of Aemma, he knew of course, but the nerves in his stomach dictated he ask.

"She's bed bound now" Rhaenyra said with a frown, all teasing gone, "I hope the babe comes soon, she is truly miserable"

"I can't imagine" Jon said, and the girls laughed.

"You're lucky you'll never have to!" Rhaenyra exclaimed with a wrinkle of her nose, "Men folk are so lucky, never having to have their guts ripped open for some babe"

"Just in battle" Jon said with a shrug, but under his nieces glare he held up his arms in mock defeat, "Alright alright, I don't deny it is much worse to be a woman in that regard"

"Rhaenyra stop giving Jon a hard time" Alicent interjected, and when he shot her a thankful smile, he had a slight ego boost at her pink cheeks, Rhaenyra simply scoffed.

"I do hope Mother will be okay" Rhaenyra said, and she seemed much younger then, much much younger.

"She will" Jon said, and took her hand, all teasing forgotten as they laced fingers, family, leaning on each other, and they offered one another a smile.

But Jon, felt awful as she leaned against him, for he knew she wouldn't be, and he had no way to stop it.

The tourney was to Jon dull.

He was too Northern to enjoy anything like this. Embracing his Targaryen side, he might be, but he'd never be a Southerner, and he found the jousting, the archery contest, the painted capes, and the bejewelled armour, frankly ridiculous.

It must have shown on his face.

"You disapprove" Alicent teased, and he smiled at her being bold enough to initiate a conversation, he liked that. Rhaenyra was seated on his right, Alicent next to her, but his niece had flitted off for a moment.

"I think its all a bit silly" Jon said tamely, he could hardly go on a Northern rant.

"I suppose it is" Alicent said with a frown, "But its entertainment"

"Not to me" Jon said with a sigh, "I can think of many more fun things to be doing" He saw Alicent frown then, "But don't frown on my grumpy behalf"

That got a giggle and Jon managed a smile, he found he liked making Alicent laugh.

He should have realised, as innocent and sweet as Alicent was, not the viper yet she might one day become, he was out of his depth completely.

He had no experience of courting (not that this was that), no real experience with women beyond Ygritte who had been unique in taking the lead which he'd gone along with (happily of course), this was different, and Jon had to fight a grimace when he remembered Aemma joking he'd need to marry.

Especially as he worried, and felt something else in his chest, that he might.

"I think a Knight is asking for your favour!" Rhaenyra said as she jumped back into view, and Alicent blushed as she looked at the crown of flowers in her lap.

"Well …" She paused, "Who is it?"

Rhaenyra looked confused at that, and Jon hid a grin.

"Its Daemon" She said with a raised eyebrow.

"Go and honour my brother" Jon stepped in, he wondered if Alicents hesitancy was what he thought it was, and felt part flattered and nervous that it might be, or perhaps he was just thinking too much of himself … he hoped not. "Not that he deserves it"

"Jon!" Rhaenyra mock gasped, "Fire and Blood!"

"Yes yes" Jon rolled his eyes at their … his family words, "Daemon has far too much of the former, and may not have enough of the latter after this"

"On that we agree" Rhaenyra said as she took Alicents hand and they flounced to the edge of the viewing platform, though Jon smiled as Alicent looked back.

Trouble surely lay there.

And yet for one of the few times in his life, Ygritte perhaps being the last, Jon didn't run from the trouble.

"What in the Gods name are you doing?"

Jon had never been so shocked or perhaps so angry in his life.

As soon as he'd seen Viserys leave the tourney viewing box he'd known something had gone wrong. Moments from the history pages, or his childhood studies and then his further trying to understand his family readings has flown through his head.

'Aemma Targaryen after many a stillborn died giving birth to an Heir that would outlive her by just one day. It is said King Viserys was never the same after'

And today was the day, and by the looks of his elder brother here; the King, it was imminent.

He knew he shouldn't follow. He knew it wasn't his place, but as the minutes ticked by and there was no word, good or bad, the tourney carried on around him, he knew he had to do something, and so he shot to his feet, didn't say a word to anyone and hurried inside.

"Jon what are you doing?" Rhaenyra grabbed him as he went to leave, her eyes were filled with worry like his, but he smiled at her, and patted her hand.

"I'll be back in a bit" He said with a nod and his niece nodded, before turning back to the festivities that neither of them could enjoy.

And so, he hurried on, all thoughts of tourneys, and favours, and even Alicent, gone from his mind.

Why was he so effected and worried? He barely knew Aemma, and he'd seen enough suffering in his life that he'd become in part numb to it. Yes, he still felt things, and felt them deeply, but when you'd seen the things he'd seen, he couldn't let them rule his emotions; but why was he letting this one?

Was it the familial connection? Or just the fact Aemma was a kind person? In their few conversations she'd been funny, sweet, clever, and kind. He hated the thought of never having one of those conversations again, hated the idea of her bones and body turning to ash, as was Targaryen funeral custom. He realised he'd seen Aemma a bit like a well-meaning older sister, and as he hurried towards the screams, his heart quickening, he knew he didn't want her to die, but not in the sense he wanted to preserve all innocent life but with a sense of panic of losing a family member.

And so, when he burst into the room, his eyes widened, and his heart pounded, Aemma wasn't just lying on the birthing bed, screaming and writhing through the agonies of childbirth (something he knew very little about, but even he'd felt sorry for Lady Catelyn as she'd laboured through the night with Arya, then Bran and Rickon), but something far, far worse.

"What are you doing?" Jon said, as Viserys turned to him, eyes wide and frankly filled with guilt. The Maester had no such look though he did quell a touch under Jon's look and step forward.

"My Prince" He said with a bow and a sigh of annoyance, "It is not appropriate for you to be here"

"Jon!" Aemma screamed out then, thrashing against two assistants trying to hold her arms down, she'd been half dragged down the bed as they tried to pin her, all notion of her comfort gone, she spat out the leather they'd put in her mouth and screamed, "Jon don't let them!"

"I ask again" Jon said, his blood racing now, as he realised what was going on, it took everything in him not to lunge at the Maester or his brother, though he hardly was, not by blood or merit right now, instead he turned to the Maester with a glare, "What are you doing?"

"Jon please!" He stepped towards Aemma then and saw a flicker of fear in Viserys eye.

"The baby is in a position where it cannot be delivered naturally. Both Mother and baby will die without intervention" The Maester said as though talking about a new kind of herb from the Citadel, not human lives in the balance, "We must step in, and I may be able to save the child"

"And Aemma?" Jon asked furiously, his hand going to his sword.

"She cannot be saved" Viserys said his voice breaking, but Jon shot his brother a vicious glare.

"Have you even tried?" Jon said furiously, knowing full well what the answer would be, what people like this valued, "Can you not save her and not the babe?"

"He is to be the Heir…" The Maester said scandalously, as though Jon had spoken a great wrong.

"She is the Queen!" Jon yelled before stepping towards Aemma again, who was heartbreakingly reaching for him, this time though, the two Kingsguard at the door stepped inside with then.

"Jon, we have to save the babe" Viserys said, he was crying but Jon felt no pity, especially as Aemma screamed again.

"Jon don't let them!" She couldn't look at him, eyes screwed shut in agony, but she was calling to him and he stepped closer again.

"Guards!" The Maester called as Viserys wept, "Remove him!"

Three Kingsguard stepped forward now, and Jon not remotely thinking about the consequences of his actions, unsheathed his sword, and turned back to the guards, all three of them looked wary but held their swords aloft too.

"Jon! You can't be doing this in here!" Viserys said furiously. "It's not good for…"

"Who?" Jon said, anger so fierce in his veins he was sure he might be breathing red, "Your precious Heir? What about your wife?"

"Jon" Aemma said sobbing now, she reached for him, but as he went to step closer, one of the guards pounced.

Jon was quick and a better fighter than all three of them, but he was outnumbered as a fourth entered the cramped room. He managed a stolen glance with Aemma, who looked terrified, and turned back.

He disarmed two quickly, but then one of them got their arms around him, the other grabbed his sword and threw it to the ground, and as much as Jon struggled, using every dirty fighting technique he could, smashing his head into the nose of one of them resulting in a spray of blood, kicking another hard enough in the stomach to break several ribs, they had him.

He shouted and yelled as they dragged him away, mixing with Aemma's cries, her pleas, terrified, shouting her voice hoarse, and Jon only fought harder to unfortunately no avail.

"Aemma!" He screamed for the sister he'd barely known, struggling against the guards dragging him from the room, he smacked another hard with his elbow but a fifth had joined the party, it took all of their strength to rip him from the room.

"Jon! Jon! Please no!" She screamed before her cries were muffled and Jon even as he struggled, even as tears tracked down his cheeks and he screamed in fury, Jon could not get to her, not until her cries abruptly stopped, and were replaced by another for just a moment before they stopped too.

And all in the Red Keep wept.

He was hardly surprised, when under lock and key in his chambers, Viserys was the first to visit days later, a mingle of defeat, sadness and anger written across his face.

Jon knew only one emotion dominated his, as his brother in this life stepped inside, and it was fury enough he had to have a firm word with himself not to commit Kingslaying.

"Jon…" Viserys began, he propped Blackfyre against the wall, out of Jon's reach but returning it to him as a peace offering. Jon would have just as happily thrown it back at him, "I know you loved Aemma like a true sister, but there was no other way"

"You didn't even try" Jon sneered, standing to his feet. He felt something wilt a touch of his anger, at just how devastated Viserys looked, but then all he had to remember was Aemma screaming for him, how he'd failed he, and it rose again, "You let them butcher her!"

"She was my wife!" Viserys yelled back, some Targaryen fire still in him but it didn't match Jon's, "She would have died either way!"

"And you let them butcher her!" Jon yelled, before he tried to force himself to calm down, "You don't know that her death was certain" Jon said: shaking his head, "You were more concerned about your Heir"

"And he died too!" Viserys said furiously, and Jon felt some pity for him, but not enough, not as he heard Aemmas screams in his head yet again. Failed. "But I had to try!"

"But that makes you my Heir" Viserys followed with, defeat creeping back in, "And we must be on good terms"

"Daemon is your Heir" Jon threw back, heart quickening, remembering Aemma's words about him having Dragonstone, about needing to marry soon, was this what it had all come to?

Jon had never wanted to rule in the South, his desire to be Lord of Winterfell and then Lord Commander had been the height of his powerful ambitions, but now? Knowing what he needed to do to save Westeros? Now he had a new desire, or rather duty, for the South still held little appeal, this was his home now, and he needed to rule it.

That was the first step at least, and many more difficult ones would follow, one he knew would come next being one of the hardest, but he had to. It was all to protect Westeros.

He could put aside his personal distaste for the South, embrace this was what he needed to do, and understand he needed to rule. A Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne, that wouldn't end with him.

"Daemon is not fit, the Small Council agrees" Viserys said, "Aemma suggested I rename you my Heir" He said with a nod, "And I intend to"

"This doesn't make up for" He began, for it didn't, as he heard Aemmas screams yet again, the terrified look in her eyes, failed, "You could have tried, you could have"

"And I will live with that for the rest of my life" Viserys said, voice heavy, a tear tracked down his cheek, he looked as though he'd aged years in just days, "But I will honour her idea, as it is the right one, I know that she was always right"

He held out his hand for Jon to clasp then, and as furious as Jon remained, both at his family here and himself, he knew what he had to do, he knew he couldn't turn this down, for the sake of Westeros, for the sake of all of the living. And so, he clasped his brothers arm a bit harder than necessary, and it was sealed.

"I loved her" Viserys said, and Jon knew it was taking all he had not to weep. Jon had only known Aemma a few short weeks, and he felt the same. Perhaps she simply inspired that in people, or she'd become part of the family Jon had always so desperately sought.

"I know" Jon said, his tone a touch more pitying, because he did know, but that didn't make up for what he'd done, Jon wasn't sure what would, "But you could have tried"

"That's not fair" Viserys said, stepping back, wiping his eyes, "We're not healers Jon, the Maester knows more than us, far more"

"Then you could have given her the choice" Jon said then, his purple gaze meeting the Kings, "You could have let her die how she wished, you could have given her that honour"

And then the Kings eyes, the same purple as Jon's widened, as though he'd not even considered that, and with horror Jon realised he hadn't. And so, angry, and furious as he still was, when his brother here crumpled to the floor and wept, Jon went with him in comfort, and held the sobbing King.

Failed.

They both had.

And both sobbed for their failings.

"You will go to him tonight"

She had expected this, anticipated it, and yet still the sour twist in her stomach remained, the blood feeling as though it were rising up her throat, the fear that flickered even as she nodded.

She had no choice, there would be no refusal, as she picked at her fingers, tearing at the skin like paper, not even noticing the pain, the dripping blood, that was long forgotten.

She remembered sitting on the viewing platform, at Jons smile, had felt happy for a fleeting minute, but now she was here, in her Fathers dark rooms, he not even looking at her as he marched her to a fate she did not want.

Did not want but could never refuse, that was not how it worked.

"I…" She stumbled, "Yes Father" There was no choice, Otto Hightower was not a man who was refused.

"Wear one of your Mothers dresses" He said with a nod, "And go at nightfall"

"Yes Father" She whispered then, her voice failing her, but she carried on, even as her bloody hands shook, "I'll go to the King"

A pause.

"Not the King Alicent" Her Father spoke then, and her heart leapt, surely not … surely, she was not being given a reprieve? Surely her Father didn't know…

"This isn't about your silly crush" Her Father admonished, and then he looked up at her, but he still held his quill, she'd only get a second of his attention, "But the King intends to name him Heir, and he will likely not marry again, not after Aemma, and so this is our best chance"

"Best chance?" She asked, shaking, shuddering, surely this couldn't be? The hope threatened to choke her.

"Of you being Queen of course" He said with a shake of his head, as though it were obvious, Alicent was just trying not to faint with relief.

"Go to him" Her Father ordered, and she nodded quickly, too quickly and enthusiastically, she was just glad her Father was looking away, "See if you can get into his bed even, he is too honorable to think of refusing after that"

"I… you think he'll refuse me?" She asked, and her heart sank.

"He is hard to read, and lets nothing be known, I think as long as you are beautiful, and kind and sweet he will not, but we must be sure, do you understand?"

Part of her hated this, to be deceptive in this way, in something she knew he wouldn't approve, but … this was her chance, her choice, to avoid being a wife to a man older than her Father, this was maybe her only chance to be happy.

Shouldn't she grasp it with both hands? Could anyone blame her?

"I understand Father" She said, and at that she was dismissed, both parts apprehensive, relieved and giddy, as she went in search of her Mothers green dress.

many points in history are written, this was one of them

there will be diversions from canon in this story (and big ones) but some things have to happen, rip aemma /3

but moving swiftly on, jon is thrust further into the game, much further, how will he play?

do review