The seventeenth day of the seventh moon — 298-AC:

It was the hour of the nightingale. Jon Snow slid out of bed, dressing himself in light leathers and putting on his black leather gloves. Ghost twitched from his spot on the carpet, opening one red eye in boredom.

Jon extracted his bastard sword from the corner of his chambers and connected its sheath to his waist. Ghost uncurled, released a silent yawn, and joined him on his stroll through the enormous but isolated hallway in Maegor's Holdfast.

The hallways were empty for the most part, but Jon noticed several servants who scurried around the castle to fulfil their early morning duties. Eluding them, Jon ventured across the draw-bridge of Maegor's Holdfast. A small chill prickled him.

Finding the courtyard where he had met Aegon and fought Steffon Baratheon, Jon unsheathed his blade and practised his swordsmanship. Ghost sat on the sidelines, licking his paws.

Fifteen minutes passed in focused silence until Ghost heard the sound of unconcerned footfalls and flashed his teeth in disinterest at the armoured man who had trekked into the yard. Jon lowered his blade.

"So you would be king Rhaegar's bastard." A nonchalant voice drawled. Aurane Waters appraised Jon. "Much like me in a sense."

"And who would you be, ser?"

"Aurane Waters." Aurane responded. "I believe you have met my trueborn brother—Monford Velaryon. He is the master of ships."

He was dressed in light blue armour—House Velaryon's seahorse was engraved into his chest-plate in yellow.

'Aurane Waters, huh?' Jon sheathed his blade. "I did have the great pleasure of meeting lord Velaryon with the rest of the small council."

"A courteous one, aren't you?" Aurane snorted, scratching his silver hair. "Good. Do make sure to maintain your deferential act, Snow."

"What brings you to this courtyard, ser?"

"I wanted to meet his grace's hidden child." Aurane shrugged. "Unlike many in this hot stinking city, I do not have the patience for riddles."

'I expected this.' Jon sighed. 'I knew people would want to see me.'

"And that wolf of yours." Aurane said. "There have been many servants, lords, and ladies in the keep gossipping about that beast."

Ghost gazed at Aurane and his teeth glinted in the morning sunlight.

'A lot of people did see Ghost during my tour around the Red-Keep.'

"Dragons and direwolves all lurking in one place." Aurane scoffed in obvious amusement. "I see that you were training your steel, eh?"

"Your trueborn brother is called the Talented. Not even I can deny how adroit at everything he is. I wonder if you can compare to his skill."

'Meaningless taunts to bait me into an outburst of some kind.' Jon's tone turned more bland. "Indeed, he is a talented warrior."

"That boy is a menace on the battlefield." Aurane answered. "He earned Dark-Sister when he was ten and four after a squire's tourney."

"It was your father who knighted him." He said. "Though—he was squiring for ser Arthur Dayne at the time."

'That reminds me of how the first Daemon Blackfyre earned his knighthood and the blade Blackfyre.'

"From a Waters to a Snow, let us hope you will thrive here. Farewell."

Aurane appraised Jon once more, levelled his interested gaze upon Ghost for a short moment, and turned to leave the wide courtyard.

'That won't be the last of these interactions.' Jon unsheathed his bastard sword, reworking on his stance. 'Only the beginning of them.'

(-)

Jon broke his fast on toasted buttered bread and a bowl of hot soup. Ghost consumed the cooked venison on his plate in ruthless bites. Out of nowhere, he heard a knock from the entrance to his chambers.

'I've eaten enough.' Jon dipped his spoon into his bowl of soup, walked to the door, opened it, and spotted a messenger boy in the corridor. "What is it?"

"Forgive me for disturbing you, m'lord, but prince Aegon summons you." The messenger replied. "I will escort you there if you would allow it."

'This must be about that trip to the Dragonpit.'

"One moment, if you would." Jon trudged deeper into his room, put on his black cloak, and left his chambers with Ghost. "Let us depart, then."

Although fearful of the direwolf who accompanied them, the messenger bowed and took Jon to the stables outside of Maegor's Holdfast — where Aegon had mounted his horse.

"Brother, you have made it." Aegon motioned his hand at a stable-boy and a destrier was guided out of the stables. "To the Dragonpit, then."

'This will be my first time seeing a dragon up-close.' Jon secured himself on the saddles of his destrier. 'Vermithor I only saw in the air.'

The two of them urged their horses through the bronze entrance of the Red-Keep and a dozen guards accompanied them on their warhorses. Reaching the top of the hill of Rhaenys, Jon dismounted from his horse and stared at the massive reconstructed building ahead of them.

During the Dance-Of-The-Dragons civil war, the smallfolk had broken into the Dragonpit and pushed it into disrepair. Upon his ascension to the Iron-Throne and the hatching of the first dragons in over a century, Rhaegar invested a large amount of coin into fixing the old dragon lair.

"Magnificent, is it not?" Aegon stood beside Jon, handing the reins of his stallion to a stable-boy. "This would be where Balerion, Vermax, and Meraxes reside."

Jon analyzed the Dragonpit — its enormous dome was split to create an open space for the dragons and its walls were fortified with thick stones and metals. The gates were coated in fresh bronze and iron.

"It is incredible." Jon replied. 'Cregard and Serena would like this place.'

Ghost blinked at the Dragonpit in disinterest.

"Our father had the Dragonkeepers order reestablished when aunt Daenerys' dragon hatched." Aegon said. "Her egg hatched first."

"Our drunken uncle's egg hatched second, our father's egg hatched third, Rhaenys' dragon hatched fourth, and mine hatched last."

Aegon smirked. "Yet it is Balerion who grew into the mightiest."

"My prince."

"Aenar." Aegon inclined his head at the man dressed in obsidian dragon-themed armour who had approached them. "How fares Balerion?"

"He has grown more ferocious in your short absence, I fear." Aenar's green eyes flickered to Jon. "Would this be your brother, my prince?"

"Indeed. He is Jon Snow." Aegon answered, then turned to Jon. "Most of the members of the reinstated Dragonkeepers order hail from the Free Cities. They tend to have Valyrian names themselves."

"A pleasure." Aenar lowered his head, but righted himself and banged his staff coated in iron on the ground. "Shall I escort you to Balerion?"

"No. I shall be fine."

"Of course, my prince."

Aenar bowed and disappeared into the keep that contained the barracks for the Dragonkeepers — the keep was a large brick building. A tall watchtower of stone was built into its right side and a statue of a crimson dragon was perched on top of it.

"You are free to leave." Aegon told the captain of the guardsmen pledged to House Targaryen. "Or wait here if you must."

"It is our duty to guard you, prince Aegon." The captain said. "But we will be in the Dragonkeepers' Lair."

The captain of the group of guardsmen gestured at his men and they walked with him into the keep built for the Dragonkeepers.

"Do you not have a member of the Kingsguard tailing you?" Jon asked him. "I have seen the princess, queen, and king with their guards."

"Any guards are wasted on me." Aegon answered. "My wits and blade can defeat any foe I encounter."

'Confident, indeed, but this confidence of his isn't unfounded.' Jon's lips curved into a wry smile. "Of course."

"Ser Gerold Hightower is my primary guard at times." Aegon commented. "But he has been bedridden since recovering from an illness. Though our father knows I will be safe with or without a guard."

Aegon, Jon, and Ghost soon descended into the Dragonpit. Following Aegon into an enormous cave-like tunnel reinforced with bricks and iron, Jon felt a torrent of light heat hit his face. A low grumble rumbled across the tunnel.

"Balerion." Aegon's dark purple eyes peered into the shadows in the tunnel. "Lykiri."

Jon backed off when a massive obsidian-scaled and red-eyed dragon pushed his ginormous snout out towards Aegon and released a puff of smoke. Aegon patted Balerion on the snout in amusement.

"I missed your presence too, Balerion."

A pair of twisted ebony horns curved around Balerion's head. The tunnel they were in was large enough to contain his wing-span. Aegon talked in a low tone of High Valyrian and Balerion's wings opened up.

'My first time being so close to a dragon.' Jon was more amazed than scared. 'This is nothing like when I saw Vermithor up above Winterfell.'

Balerion focused his ferocious gaze on Ghost, but the direwolf ignored him and instead let out a silent yawn in boredom.

'What the hell?!' Jon felt a sharp pain from the sudden ache in his head. 'The back of my head feels like it's being punched…'

The pain in his head dulled after a second and Jon breathed out in confusion. 'Where the hell did that headache come from?'

"Glorious, is he not?" Aegon patted Balerion on the snout again. "He has been my companion for the longest time."

"Indeed." Jon nodded, awed. 'It's not everyday one sees a dragon.'

Balerion drove the lightest nudge into Aegon's palm, puffing out more smoke from his nostrils.

"Not today, I fear." Aegon smiled. "On the morrow, we shall fly."

More smoke was puffed from Balerion's nostrils before he retreated deeper into the tunnel. Aegon turned around and Jon trekked with him to the Dragonkeepers' Lair—where the guardsmen waited for them. Ghost followed them in silence, looking at the Dragonpit for a second.

Jon mounted his destrier. "Where was prince Viserys?"

"Swamped in the duties of the Commander of the City Watch." Aegon got on his stallion. "Half the time he is drunk during his patrols."

They urged their horses forward and rode into the Red-Keep. Once their horses had been returned to the stables, Jon and Aegon reentered Maegor's Holdfast and crossed its hallway.

A servant had intercepted their path, lowering his head. "Pardon me, my prince, but I have been told to let you know that a session of court shall be held in twenty minutes. Your apparel has been prepared."

"Of course." Aegon was disinterested. "Tell whoever sent you I will attend this time."

Bowing, the servant sauntered off and vanished through a bronze door at the end of the hallway.

"Mother has been displeased about me flying off so often." Aegon sighed. "It would be best if I do not earn the ire of either of my parents and attend this damn session of court for once."

"I wish you the best of luck on that endeavour." Jon replied. "Mayhaps I will train in the courtyard, then."

'Varys wants me to attend.' He mused. 'But I'd rather not.'

"If I must suffer such a dull event, brother, you must suffer with me." Aegon laughed. "It would be best if you attended court at least once."

"I am a bastard." Jon's mouth twisted into a small wry smirk. "There is not much reason for me to be there."

"You are his grace's bastard." Aegon said. "Many people have been curious about our father's third child tucked away in the North. At least attend court this one time so their curiosity of you will cease."

'He does have a point.' Jon scratched his brown hair. "I will see to it that I attend this session of court, then."

"Let us hope we will have to suffer in that dreadful hall for a short time." Aegon remarked. "Believe me, brother, you have nothing to fear. I reckon it will be the same topics — petty disputes being resolved by the small council or our father, vague announcements of unimportant projects, and lords and ladies vying for a chance to outclass each other."

"Huh." Jon commented. "That does sound tiresome."

"Indeed." Aegon nodded. "It is why I sometimes fly off to Essos on Balerion, but his grace and her grace have grown displeased with me in the last few moons. No matter, I will see you at the Great-Hall."

(-)

Jon stood in front of his wardrobe, dressed in a dark blue doublet, brown breeches, and a black cloak. Ghost followed him out of the entrance to his chambers—a guardsman stood at the end of the hallway.

"His grace bids you to join him and everyone else in the throne room this day." The armoured man said. "Shall I escort you there?"

"No." Jon shook his head. "I thank you but I can make my way there myself."

The guardsman looked at Ghost, lowered his head in acknowledgment, and disappeared around the corner.

'So Rhaegar would have summoned me to attend court even if Aegon hadn't convinced me to go. I'm glad that I got changed in time.'

Exiting Maegor's Holdfast, Jon trudged through its draw-bridge, found the oaken bronze entrance of the throne room, and strode into the hall. Court had not yet started in its full capacity, so people were trickling in and positioning themselves around the massive area.

Gold cloaks, knights, and guards pledged to House Targaryen were stationed against the walls. Some were stone-faced, bored, or tired. The small council were assembled and on their seats below the throne. Three members of the Kingsguard were located at the foot of the Iron-Throne.

Jon's grey eyes peered at the Iron-Throne — a ginormous chair crafted from malformed metal. It loomed over them. Ghost looked at it, nudged Jon in boredom, and blinked at the lords and ladies who whispered and pointed at them.

Huge and small skulls of ancient dragons were instilled into the walls.

'Seeing all of this in person is something else.'

Neither Aegon, Rhaenys, or Rhaegar had arrived yet for court. Striding into a horde of courtiers, Jon went to the back of a crowd. Ghost tailed him in silence and no-one else managed to notice them.

Five minutes passed and the smallfolk had already appeared in the gallery. Jon knew it was standard protocol for many to either kneel or stand during court. Conversation scurried across the large room.

It wasn't until a herald blew his trumpet that the hall became silent. The herald lowered his trumpet from his mouth, then yelled. "King Rhaegar of House Targaryen, the first of his name, king of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men! The lord of the Seven-Kingdoms and the protector of the realm!"

The massive oaken bronze entrance to the Great-Hall was opened once again. Rhaegar walked into the room, garmented in a crimson doublet marked with lighter red lines. A purple cloak was set on his shoulders and House Targaryen's sigil was woven into it. He had a crown streaked in purple and red that spiralled around his silver hair — small sapphires were engraved into it.

Arthur loomed behind Rhaegar and trod with him across the hall, though Rhaegar scaled the steps of the Iron-Throne and sat on it while Arthur positioned himself at the foot of the throne.

"Princess Rhaenys of House Targaryen — the princess of Rhaenys' Keep!"

Rhaenys sauntered into the throne room, garbed in a velvet purple dress with short dagged sleeves. Her long black hair was styled in an exquisite braid and an aureate necklace was wrapped around her neck. A silvered circlet dotted with one sapphire was on her head. She looked disinterested, but maintained a dignified demeanour.

Barristan Selmy escorted her through the hall. She took a seat close to the council table and Barristan walked to the foot of the throne.

"Prince Viserys of House Targaryen — the prince of Summerhall!"

'Summerhall, huh? So it was reconstructed.'

Viserys wore chainmail and a yellow cloak. Joining his gold cloaks against a wall of the throne room, he untucked a flask of wine from his pouch.

"Prince Aegon of House Targaryen — the prince of Dragonstone!"

Aegon sported a silken crimson jerkin outlined in dark grey. A black velvet cloak hugged his shoulders. House Targaryen's three-headed dragon was embroidered into his outfit. Rubies and garnets were embedded into the silvered circlet on his hair. A dull smile crossed his features. He took a seat next to Monford Velaryon and his smile turned even more uninterested.

Court commenced — the first of the petitioners were lords Blackwood and Bracken over some petty matter. Rhaegar resolved it in several minutes and the session of court went on and on. Jon had grown bored.

'Why did I agree to this?' Jon sighed. 'Damn it, Aegon.'

"I believe that will be all the petitions for this session of court." Rhaegar's voice boomed across the hall. "I do have a few announcements I intend to declare for all of you to hear, however."

Everyone in the Great-Hall—the knights, lords, ladies, gold cloaks, guards, squires, and smallfolk in attendance—perked up in interest.

Rhaenys lifted an eye-brow for a second. Viserys drank his wine in disinterest. Aegon placed a palm beneath his chin in boredom.

"I am sure many of you know or have heard that I have brought my second son from the North." Rhaegar said. "Jon Snow — come forth!"

Murmurs spread through the flocks of courtiers in the hall. Some guards, knights, and gold cloaks blinked in mild surprise. The smallfolk turned to each other and whispered.

Viserys focused less on his wine and more on the throne room. Aegon poured watered down wine from a pitcher on the council table into a cup, interest renewed. Rhaenys' face was blank.

'What the hell? Why is he calling me up?'

Jon waded through the crowd of courtiers. Ghost followed him and the murmurs around the Great-Hall intensified in more shock, astonishment, fear, concern, and amazement after everyone spotted the direwolf.

Some lords and ladies scoffed in distaste at him once they heard his surname — bastards were devious and malicious creatures to them.

"Your grace." Jon knelt in front of the Iron-Throne and felt hundreds of eyes fall on him. 'What is this about?'

Had Rhaegar intended to legitimize him? Jon cared little about his surname. In his childhood, Cregard and Serena treated him no different than they treated others—even when they had learned what a bastard was and the general beliefs about bastards from maester Luwin's lessons. Jon had kin who craved legitimization more than him.

"From here on forth, Jon Snow will be afforded all privileges and benefits and authority that a trueborn child born into House Targaryen would have!" Rhaegar announced. "He will have no official lands nor strongholds nor holdfasts! And he shall not be legitimized! But he will be bestowed with the title of a prince of House Targaryen and the full influence and prestige of such a title!"

The murmurs, whispers, and chatter around the Great-Hall rose to an unnatural level. Many lords and ladies were blatant with their shock, but just as many kept their faces emotionless. The smallfolk were the loudest. Guards and knights were confused and stunned.

Stannis Baratheon was silent, but he furrowed his brows in mild astonishment. Kevan Lannister touched his beard in contemplation. Pycelle's shock was undisguised on his wrinkled face. Monford stared into the cup in his hand. Jon Connington grunted, but otherwise was composed. Varys smiled into the purple sleeve of his robes. Arthur and Barristan were impartial.

Viserys spat out some of his wine in shock and put his flask into his pouch. Rhaenys' features were no longer blank but a little curious. Aegon smirked in amusement, drinking his watered down wine.

'I'm not sure what to think about this.' Jon blinked, but recomposed himself. "I must thank you for such a boon, your grace."

Rhaegar nodded at him, then announced. "That shall be all!"

The smallfolk were ushered out of the hall by guards and gold cloaks. Dozens of courtiers left the throne room in droves — Jon knew what had happened in the Great-Hall was going to spread all across Westeros soon. People's intrigue in him had increased tenfold.

He rose from his earlier position and Ghost looked around the hall.

"My prince." Varys fluttered towards Jon in a gale of purple robes. "It is a pleasure to be the first to congratulate you on receiving such a title."

'Varys knew. Of course he did.' Jon sighed. "You have my thanks, lord Varys."

Varys simpered, lowered his head, turned around, and left the hall.

"Mayhaps I was wrong about this session of court being dull." Aegon approached Jon and laughed. "I did not think for even a moment that our father would have done this of all things possible!"

"You were wrong about people's curiosity about me ceasing after this session of court." Jon spoke in a bland tone. 'How do I handle a situation like this one?'

"What unexpected news." Viserys dismissed the two gold cloaks who had tailed him. "I mean no offense to you, nephew, but this baffles me."

'I'm just as shocked.'

"You have been afforded the very same authority that Rhaenys, Daenerys, Aegon, and I have."

"Indeed—most unexpected news." Rhaenys ambled up to them — Barristan shadowed her from afar. "I do not believe father consulted the small council about a decision. Though I do believe a congratulations is in order for such an appointment, brother."

"Thank you, princess."

"Sister or Rhaenys will do." She responded. "I'm sure you must have been most amused about what has transpired, Aegon."

"Of course!" Aegon cackled. "Such a priceless aftermath!"

Rhaenys rolled her eyes in amusement, curtsied, and exited with Barristan through a different door in the hall.

Viserys gestured his hand at his gold cloaks, leaving the throne room.

"I am sure you shall be fine, brother." Aegon said, patted Jon on the shoulder, and walked to the oaken bronze doors. "I will be off at the courtyard."

"I must confess that this was unexpected." Aurane's monotonous voice commented. He stood next to Jon, garbed in blue and green silks. "Yet the Snow remains."

"Ser Aurane."

"I do not attend court much." Aurane said. "But, out of the few times I have, this is the first to have shocked me so."

"I bid you farewell, my prince."

Aurane nodded at Jon, disappearing into a crowd of courtiers.

Jon hiked across the Great-Hall in silence, blending in with a flock of lords and ladies and heading out of the throne room. Reaching Maegor's Holdfast, he travelled through its draw-bridge and returned to his chambers. Ghost trailed behind him.

(-)

Jon trudged into the courtyard in his grey armour after two hours — Ghost had fallen fast asleep on the carpet in his chambers.

Numerous knights, lords, and squires duelled it out in the courtyard. Although a few of them noticed his arrival and glanced at him in intrigue. Aegon was in the middle of the courtyard like normal. However—he fought against someone in orange armour. House Lannister's infamous lion was embroidered into the person's surcoat.

Steffon Baratheon was in one corner of the courtyard and he had bashed his opponent into the ground with three mighty strikes from his hammer. Opening his antlered helm's visor, he sauntered up to Jon and chuckled. "I fear your prestige has grown in such short time!"

"Indeed." Jon nodded. "Not even I had expected such a thing to happen once I was called up."

They turned their attention to the middle of the courtyard—where a similar crowd from yesterday had gathered.

"People believe your brother shall be the new Dragonknight." Steffon scoffed. "Prince Aegon is skilled with Dark-Sister in battle, but I fear he is not the gallant sort of man that the Dragonknight is believed to have been like. Do pardon me for proclaiming such."

Dark-Sister smacked a longsword aside. Aegon maneuvered around a kick aimed at his stomach, then smashed Dark-Sister's pommel into his opponent and launched him downwards.

Aegon gestured his blade at his opponent's chest-plate. "Will you yield?"

"I yield."

The crowd soon scattered and returned to their own training.

Steffon approached them and grinned. "Twas a good match, Lann!"

"A match that has ended in my defeat." Lann Lannister shrugged, picking up his blade. "A good match, my prince. If you will excuse me."

Lann bowed, then walked out of the courtyard.

"That one would be Lann Lannister." Steffon told Jon. "It is a tongue twister at times. You won't see much of him here, I'm afraid. He tends to divide his time between Casterly Rock and King's Landing."

"I see you are here, brother." Aegon called out. "Would you care for a duel?"

'I can't let my skills dull.' Jon walked to the middle of the courtyard. "Of course."

Jon unsheathed his bastard blade while Aegon held up his sword.

Three seconds passed before Aegon rushed forward and slashed at his blade to disarm him. Managing to parry it, Jon slid back and moved away from an onslaught of well-timed and vicious slices.

"You focus much on your surroundings." Aegon slipped Dark-Sister into his left hand, stepped forward, and cut it into Jon's armour. "Focus more on your balance and footwork."

Dark-Sister struck Jon on his armour-plated shoulder this time, opening up a weak point in his stance. Aegon hit Jon's bastard sword out of his hand and pointed his blade at him. "Shall you yield?"

"Aye, I yield." Jon sighed. 'I still have a lot to work on.'

"A good match." Aegon said. "You have decent skill, but there are parts of it you should best work on."

Jon retrieved his bastard sword, sheathed it, and grunted. 'He's right. I wonder how Robb and Cregard would do against him in combat.'

"Yes, I forgot about that." Aegon mumbled to himself. "Rhaenys, Viserys, and I shall be travelling to Dragonstone on the morrow. We believe you should come along to see our ancestors' famed strongholds."

'A visit to Dragonstone, huh?' Jon looked intrigued. "I am partial to the idea of coming along with you three to Dragonstone."

"It is quite the island."

Aegon turned to a squire who had challenged him to a duel and walked off to a corner in the courtyard.

Jon unsheathed his blade, searching for more people to battle.