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Chapter 3 Part 3
=Sith=
290 AC
Winterfell
The North
Eddard waited for Maester Luwin to check on Jon and ensured that servants would draw the boy a bath and have light food waiting for him when he was done and summoned his Lady Wife. After that, he retreated to the solar, for it was time for some hard truths. Luwin was also present because the good man couldn't have missed how Jon's eyes changed.
"My Lady, I hope what I am about to tell you won't cause you undue distress," Ned leaned on his desk and reluctantly looked Cat in the eye.
"My Lord? What could be possibly amiss?"
"It's Jon's eyes, aye, Lord Stark?" trust Luwin to go straight to the point.
"They changed because of the fever. They betray Jon's parentage," Eddard reluctantly admitted.
"What does the boy have to do with anything?" Catelyn scoffed.
Under almost any other circumstances, his wife would be right, Ned mussed. Jon's parentage should have been only an issue for him and a stain on his honor, nothing more and nothing less.
"Jon's my nephew, Cat. His mother was my sister, Lyanna," Saying it aloud after all these years hurt. Resentment bubbled in Eddard's heart at how stupid his beloved sister had been. At Rhaegar for being a loves-stuck fool. Frosty anger, colder than winter winds, sliced through him at the thought of Aerys and the Kingslayer, who denied Ned the vengeance he craved.
"Rhaegar," Cat whispered and blanched, going pale.
"The truth could have killed us all, even before recent events," Ned tried to justify himself.
"You let me hate that boy and resent him as a danger to our trueborn children for years, my Lord Husband! You let me wonder if your heart belonged to another!" Catelyn accused.
Ned recoiled at that. He didn't think things through, did he? Eddard thought about further justifying himself but thought better, for his arguments felt false when he thought of them.
"You are right, my Lady," Ned sighed and lowered his head in shame.
"What is this about his eyes, my Lord Husband?" Cat inquired.
"Jon's eyes are purple now," Luwin explained.
"His uncle awoke magic in Essos. Why not Jon, too? You've heard Old Nan's stories as well, haven't you, Cat?"
"Those should have been children's stories, Ned," Catelyn tiredly slumped in her chair. "Magic should have been gone of this world, and we would have been better for it," she rubbed her belly and frowned. "Jon can't stay here. People will notice. He's a danger of a very different kind now."
"Aye. I think about fostering Jon with Howland Reed. My friend is the only one remaining who knows the truth about Jon. He can keep him safe and out of sight."
Late that night, when his nephew felt better, Eddard summoned the boy to his solar. In preparation, he went to the crypts with the Maester. Lor Stark retrieved a chest, which he stashed in his sister's crypt upon his return from Robert's Rebellion. It contained a few letters from Lyanna and Rhaegar, as well as his sister's wedding cloak and the prince's famous harp.
"Father?" Ned winced at that word.
"Sit, Jon. We need to talk. Have you seen how your fever changed you?" Eddard's treacherous tongue refused to go straight to the point.
"I feel weaker, father. Tired…. But…," various emotions passed through Jon's face faster than Eddard could recognize them all. There was confusion, wonder, a flash of fear. "I feel like my blood is singing if that makes any sense…" the boy muttered.
Ned closed his eyes and sighed. Aye, it made a painful amount of sense.
"Have you heard the rumors about the last Targaryens?" He asked instead.
"That they're some kind of witches now?"
"That and more. Your eyes are purple now, Jon. It seems Viserys Targaryen wasn't the only one to awake magic recently."
The look of bafflement on Jon's face clawed at Ned's heart.
"This isn't how I wanted to tell you about your mother, Jon. You are too young, and all I wanted was to protect you," Eddard said, yet he couldn't help but wonder how much of his words was the truth.
"My mother!?" Jon perked up. "Is she alive!? Did she want me?!" Jon blurted out. His face lit up like the sun at high noon.
At that, Ned averted his eyes.
"She wanted you very much, Jon. When I reached her, she was sick with a birthing fever. Your mother lived only long enough to name you. I promised I would keep you safe."
Ned couldn't watch how his nephew's, nay, his son's hopes collapsed and burned.
"Why didn't you tell me if she had been dead for years now, my Lord?" Jon's emotionless tone carved up Eddard's bleeding heart.
"Because of who your father was, Jon. Your mother was my sister Lyanna. Your father was Rhaegar Targaryen. They ran away together, and the rest is bloody history."
When Ned finally raised his head, he saw Jon shaking his head in denial.
"Why did she have to die? Why was there a war if they ran together!?" Jon exclaimed once he stopped shaking in denial.
"Aerys was mad. Lya and Rhaegar might have been fools, but the war didn't begin with them. It started in King's Landing, with Aerys," Ned pointed at the chest. "I have a few things from your parents and letters they wrote for you before you were born."
"What am I supposed to do now, uncle? Who am I even?!"
"You are my flesh and blood, Jon. Now and always. You are pack!" Eddard proclaimed, and he meant it.
At those words, Jon relaxed a bit.
"Jon, your eyes… they will raise questions when people see them. We will be having guests from the South soon. I… you can't stay here…" Ned told his nephew the rest.
"You are sending me away?!" Jon exclaimed, sounding like a wounded animal.
"I don't want to! However, the truth is now more dangerous than ever, Jon! It can kill us all! I don't want you to leave, nephew! However, that's not an option. I'll send you to Howard Reed, a good friend of mine. He is the only one else who knows the truth. Howlard was with me when I went to retrieve your mother."
Jon shook his head while his face twisted into a grimace of doom and gloom.
=Sith=
290 AC
Magister Mopatis mansion
Pentos
Almost two months after the first ruinous rumors about Viserys reached King's Landing, Varys found himself in Pentos, visiting his old friend and accomplice. Unsullied guards led him deep into the mansion, in a room where they could dine, wine, and, most importantly, talk without anyone overhearing them.
"Look at us, Varys!" Illyrio exclaimed when he saw his guest. "We've both grown fat on success," he chuckled good-naturedly.
"Illyrio," Varys smiled a rare, genuine smile. "It is certainly better than scrapping a living on the streets," the spymaster sat down and poured himself sweet wine from Yu-Ti.
"You didn't come all the way here to visit an old friend," Mopatis' genial smile slid off his face. His lips turned down into a slight frown. "I admit I didn't see this kind of mishap coming."
"More damned magic," Varys shuddered. "Of course, it's magic that ruins our plans!" He drank some wine and waited a few moments to let it calm him down.
"Aegon is still safe and sound, protected by a man who would die before allowing any harm befall him," Illyrio reminded his accomplice. "No one but us knows the truth."
"Yes…" Varys hummed. "The Targaryens aren't strictly necessary. Viserys is the problem anyway. The girl could be useful or not; it doesn't matter."
"I am sad to say that he is going to be a big problem, even if he goes mad like his father," Illyrio pointed out. "I saw his handiwork. You know I was a deft hand with a blade, and you've seen your share of carnage, even if you didn't wield the weapons that caused it."
"That's true," Varys allowed.
"The boy is dangerous, friend. We have to remove him before he can become even deadlier. No matter what foul sorcery he wields, Viserys is still young."
Varys closed his eyes at the implications of those words. Chill went down his spine at the thought of a Sorcerer Viserys living long enough to become a seasoned menace.
"That is why I am here," the Master of Whisperers smiled wanly. "The Crown and Tywin Lannister offer fortune and a Lordship with a keep to whoever brings them Viserys Targaryen's head. I will visit the Temple of the Black and White next to see if we can pay the price the Faceless would require. Viserys Targaryen must die."
"What about the girl?" Illyrio wondered.
"She should die too. If not, Viserys's fortunate demise might leave her in a position to be useful. She will have an Unsullied guard and some wealth to her name," Varys decided. "What better way to reinforce Aegon's claim than to wed her?"
That was Daenerys Targaryen's only use for them alive, after all. She would either be an asset, or a danger to be rid off. Viserys could have been a valuable tool to pave the way for Aegon, but now had to die.
=Sith=
Chapter 3 Part 4
=Sith=
290 AC
Stormchaser
Slaver's Bay
One of the reasons Viserys wanted to sail to Astapor with as few interruptions as possible was to outpace the rumors of his nature. Doing so would make his plan for the city more likely to succeed. After he found out the hard way there was magic awake in his blood and that of Dany, it became even more imperative that they got themselves a safe haven.
Only after Stormchaser sailed through the Gulf of Grief and slid between the Isle of Cedars and the Ghiscar peninsula the call of Old Valyria slacked its grip on the Targaryens. Until then, dreams of fire, blood, and screeching dragons plagued them the moment Viserys' hold on the Force slackened in his slumber. The exiled Prince wondered if what they experienced was a trap or a call of something they needed long lost in the Doom. In his experience, it could be either. Anyway, he couldn't afford to risk an expedition there before Dany was adequately trained and had a reliable army to keep her safe. Whatever boon or trap awaited in Valyria would have to wait for years to come.
Instead, Viserys focused his thoughts on the conquest attempt he was about to attempt. No matter how he grilled his Unsullied, they gave him the same answers about Astapor and the Good Masters. Apparently, it might be a cultural blind spot, but no one had considered doing what Viserys intended. He kept turning the idea in his mind while comparing the Unsullied with the indoctrinated Clones who fought under his command.
Under the right circumstances, with the proper orders, there was little they wouldn't do. That was especially true for freshly indoctrinated units, who hadn't spent years fighting, living, and interacting with regular people, allowing them to grow and erode their indoctrination a bit. At the same time, undoubtedly, the Clone Masters of Kamino were better at their craft than the local salvers' crude methods.
As they approached Astapor, the city's red walls and pyramids appeared on the horizon, casting crimson shadows upon the sea. It was most appropriate considering what would happen if Viserys had his way. A giant harpy statue glittered in gold on top of a pyramid towering above the walls in the corner of the city closest to the sea.
"What do you think, Captain? Is that thing solid gold or just gilded?" Viserys wondered aloud.
"I've seen those statues from as close as visitors can get, Prince Viserys. Their foundation is made from stout stone or metal, with gold wings and headdresses. Only the statue before the city gates is pure stone. Other statues are made from hammered bronze. From what I heard, that used to be the case with those monstrosities on the pyramids before the Good Masters began trying to upstage each other, showing their wealth for all to see."
"Good, old-fashioned cock-measuring contest then," Viserys chuckled. A few of the crew who overheard them barked in laughter.
As Stormchaser sailed closer, they could glimpse more than a few such statues on top of the tallest pyramids in the city. If they were all like Kaleb described them, tearing the gold down and melting it would net a fortune by itself.
They docked at high tide in the evening. No one paid any attention to a lone Pentosi ship, indicating they arrived before the rumors of Viserys' nature could spread this far.
A tired clerk flanked by a pair of city guards clad in light leather armor with bronze disks sewn into it for additional protection. The most notable thing about them was their intricately oiled and sculptured hair, shaped into wings and blades.
"Welcome to Astapor! Are you here to buy, sell, provisions or pleasure?" the clerk forced a tired smile on his face and spoke at Bastard Valyrian.
"I am Captain Kaleb of the Stormchaser," the shipmaster introduced himself. "My crew and I have the honor of escorting Prince Viserys Targaryen and his sister, the Princess Daenerys. They are here to buy Unsullied. We will also need to replenish our provisions."
Viserys descended to the docks at that point, surrounded by an Unsullied spear. That got the clerk's interest and had his guards paying attention.
"You already are blessed by having the best soldiers in the world serve you, Prince," the clerk bowed. "Astrapor will gladly host your party, Your Highness."
"Splendid. When could I meet the Good Masters and begin negotiations? I have a throne to reclaim, and it is waiting for no man," Viserys declared as pompously as he could.
"I will inquire with the Harbormaster and ensure words get back to you, Your Highness! Please see our honored guest at one of the best inns in the city! I am sure that tomorrow, the Good Masters might wish to host you themselves!"
Ah, first impressions, Viserys thought. He was sure he would have received a very different reception if he had arrived without an Unsullied guard in tow. The Prince wondered if it would be best to remain on the ship but thought better of it. Perception mattered, and giving the impression that he didn't trust the Good Masters simply wouldn't do.
He left three Spears to guard the ship's cargo and, with Dany in tow, let one of the guards guide them to their lodgings for the night. They could certainly use a proper bath and food before tomorrow's negotiations.
=Sith=
290 AC
Riverrun
the Riverlands
Hoster Tully looked warily at Edmure's companions. Bringing Targaryen loyalists into the fold should have been a good thing, with that forsaken house all but gone. He spotted Darry's son and a Ryder among the laughing young men.
Raymun Darry was nearby as a barrier between the Brackens and the Blackwoods. It serves the bastard right, the Lord of Riverrun thought. Hoster had to watch the loyalists like a hawk, for nothing could be allowed to bring down his house from the height it rose under his guidance! His daughters' marriages gave Robert Baratheon the Crown, and they formed the most powerful alliance in the land. Through his grandchildren in the North, the alliance would grow, ensuring the security of the Riverlands in an unprecedented way!
Hoster sipped his wine, laughed at a jape from Mallister, and let his eyes wander, considering how to best strengthen House Tully's hold over the land. Edmure had to marry and soon, and there weren't many options. The Blackwoods were out due to a lack of eligible daughters. The Brackens were out due to their eternal feud with the Blackwoods, which disqualified the former anyway.
House Mallister lacked a daughter to marry. The same was true for Piper, leaving only House Mooton as a rasonable prospect. There were the Freys and Late Walders' army of spawn, but Hoster would see Riverrun burn before giving them a claim to his home. Waiting wasn't an option. Besides, House Tully really needed to shore up support among their bannermen. Because Hoster had already married his two daughters to the Great Lords. His son had to take a bannerman's daughter.
Besides, the only prospects that could work outside the Riverlands were either a Lannister cousin or the little Rose of Highgarden. Olenna Tyrell wouldn't let her granddaughter marry Edmure when she could be Queen one day.
Lord Mooton had daughters, yet the youngest one was what, five or six, or was she even younger? A betrothal might work. Edmure having good sisters and brothers wed into other bannermen might either shore up support or create danger.
It may be high time to resolve the infamous feud once and for all by backing the Brackens to the hilt and binding them to his house through marriage.
Fucking Viserys Targaryen. Why couldn't have that boy died a beggar?!
=Sith=
290 AC
The Eyrie
Vale of Arryn
A few moons before the turn of the year, Jon Arryn returned home to settle the succession of the Vale. Lysa was still young enough; if the gods were good, the Hand of the King might still have a son or even a daughter of his own. However, any future children of his would-be babies at arms and too damn young to deal with a potential Targaryen restoration.
Who could have thought that Viserys, of all people, would become a danger that shook the whole realm? He was aptly called a beggar not so long ago!
Jon sat on the throne of the Arryn Kings and surveyed his court.
Yohn Roice was here with his sons and daughters. Lady Anya had her hand on young Harrold Hardyng's shoulder. The boy looked painfully young, yet if the worst happened, it would be up to him to shoulder the responsibility for the Vale.
Jon's distant cousins from Gulltown were here too. That was the other option after Harry the Heir. However, while the Gulltown's Arryn's grew wealthy in trade, they were no warriors or rulers. Hells, they weren't even holding the town they lived in; that was the seat of House Graffton, and that was all that needed to be said about Jon's cousins. The Arryn's other cadet branches were no better. Wars and skirmishes with Mountain Tribes saw to that.
"War might be on the horizon," Jon was glad that his voice was yet to fail him despite his advancing age. "You've all heard the truth of Viserys Targaryen, who consorts with demons and wields wicked sorcery. It is only a matter of time before he comes to our shores, leading an army of Essosi barbarians eager to slaughter, rape, and pillage."
Loud nays and curses echoed throughout the chamber.
"The Seven Kingdoms must be united to face the coming darkness! The Vale must stand strong, united in a singular purpose. My line of succession must be secured," Jon declared. "Bronze Yohn Royce, step forward, my friend," he allowed himself a brief smile. "Lady Anya Waynwood, you've done a splendid job raising my heir. I hope you will continue to do so until he is a man worthy of our Houses," Jon buttered her up. "For the Vale to prosper and secure its future, I propose that our houses unite. Harrold Hardyng is to wed Ysilla Royce when they are of age."
A brief silence followed his announcement before the Great Hall erupted in cheers. Obviously, not everyone was happy with this, the least being Lysa. Yet, such an alliance was a sure way to avoid a war of succession. No matter how much Jon hoped for a child to carry his name, there was no guarantee that it would happen. His fortune in that regard was terrible. Besides, if push came to shove, his issue would have the backing of the North and Riverlands, giving a son or daughter of his security that young Harry couldn't hope for.