[Author-Notes]: {There will be a somewhat decent time-skip after this chapter. The last few chapters were used to set up some of the basic history of this AU and introduce the MC to characters and establish his relationships with them. }

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

The members of the small council had gathered in their usual meeting chambers — Monford Velaryon looked into his aureate chalice of wine in boredom and listened to Jon Connington speak to them about several issues that had cropped up in King's Landing in the last week.

'Prince Viserys was correct.' Monford sipped his wine, dressed in blue and yellow silks. 'Installing a cupbearer would be fruitful.'

"Your grace." Clad in his crimson woolen robes of exquisite quality, Grand Maester Pycelle spoke up. "There has also been some growing curiosity amongst the courtiers and common folk themselves about your sudden declarations at court all those days ago."

'So it is the maester who will address that particular elephant in the room.' Monford grinned into his cup in amusement. 'None of us have questioned his grace about his announcements regarding his bastard from Winterfell. I applaud your bravery, Grand Maester.'

"I must agree with Grand Maester Pycelle, your grace." Wearing a simple red doublet and black velvet cloak, Connington nodded. "Many of us were quite blindsided by those declarations of yours in the throne room. Your word is law, of course, but it was surprising you did not consult with the small council on such a matter."

'Blunt like always, my lord Hand.' Monford poured more wine into his chalice from a pitcher on the table. 'I do envy his position at times. His grace only lets his dearest friends speak to him in such direct tones.'

Garmented in a black jerkin outlined in red and leather breeches, Rhaegar smiled. "Forgive me if my announcements startled you, my lords, but I believe my natural son will thrive better here at King's Landing with his new authority."

"And you are welcome to do such, sire." Connington said. "I mean no offence in my statement, your grace, but your child is bastard born. The Faith has been neither pleased nor displeased by your declaration, but it sets an unusual precedent. Though it might displease Dorne and House Martell, mayhaps legitimization and a humble holdfast in the North or crownlands would do Jon Snow well."

Monford glanced at his fellow council members. Garbed in light leathers, Stannis Baratheon clenched his jaw in indifference. 'I believe the man cares not one lick about this matter.' Varys wore velvet purple robes, smiling into his sleeve in silence. 'That slippery spider must find all this amusing, much like myself.' Pycelle rubbed at the dark circles underneath his eyes. 'That one looks as though he shall croak.' Kevan Lannister was in crimson and orange silken apparel and he drank his Arbor red. 'I wonder what his damned brother makes of this.'

"My declarations are final, Jon."

"If that is your will, sire." Connington inclined his head in respect, took his seat next to the king, and turned to the master of coin. "Have the payments to the Iron Bank been fulfilled, lord Kevan?"

"Yes, my lord Hand." Kevan lowered his tankard onto the table. "I have portioned out the taxes well enough, so the payments we owe the Iron Bank of Braavos will be finished in one or two moons."

Twenty minutes elapsed in deep conversation about the crown's financial situation until Connington focused on him and said. "Have there been any immediate issues concerning pirates, pillagers, or raiders, my lord?"

"Those unrefined brutes and squids from the Iron Islands have been sighted on their ships around a fair number of coasts in the crownlands. They have not attacked anyone, however." Monford shrugged. "Fret not, my lords, I have made an ample increase in security and secured our own docks and ports' safety."

"I mislike this." Stannis commented in a cold tone. "Balon Greyjoy has been most silent since the Revolt. The ironborn are an unruly people, but they have been careful to not upset the crown because of the potential backlash of dragons. It is like they are probing for weak spots in our defence."

Rebellions had been rare in recent times, Monford knew. No-one in the Seven-Kingdoms wished to replicate Harrenhal's fate. Rhaegar was a just man, but he was also a ruthless one. Whenever Varys reported even a hint of a rebellion happening to them, Rhaegar's kin saddled their beasts and went on a royal progress on dragonback to remind the realm of House Targaryen's power. Any notion of rebellion was quashed afterwards. 'Not one of us wants to be a second Harren.'

"You fear for naught, lord Stannis." Monford chuckled. "Those brutish squids are not the wisest of people. If they grow bolder, our fleets will crush them once and for all."

Rhaegar's ever amused purple eyes flickered to him. "They have not attacked any holdfasts or villages, have they?"

"Indeed, sire." Monford answered. "It is no cause for concern."

"Excellent." Rhaegar said. "I will have Viserys pay them a visit if any skirmishes on our coasts occur. Lord Monford, do make sure you maintain security for our own docks."

"It will be done, your grace."

"I will adjourn this session here. Have a pleasant day, my lords."

Monford set his chalice aside, rose from his chair, bowed with the rest of the small council, and left the room first. Ser Arys Oakheart guarded the doors to the small council chambers in his polished white armour today. He passed the light-hearted but dutiful man on his way to his quarters in a grand stone turret constructed next to a bountiful garden.

Threading in and out of the massive hallways in the Red-Keep, Monford found his half-brother Aurane in an alcove and gestured his hand at him. Falling into step beside him, Aurane walked with him across an antechamber, through a bronze door, and beneath a raised portcullis. Monford analyzed his brother for a moment — he wore light blue armour and a half-helm marked with black and green lines.

"What can you tell me about Jon Snow?"

"The bastard of the Red-Keep is what some scullions and servants call him." Aurane shrugged. "Ever since that particular session of court, I've even heard some lords naming him a second Blackfyre."

"How creative of them." Monford snorted. "Have you seen the lad's wolf? I fear that beast will steal a quick look at me and decide I shall be his next meal. At least the dragons are housed in the Dragonpit."

"I once chanced upon the bastard in one of the courtyards." Aurane followed him through double oaken doors. "The red eyes of that wolf gave me quite the fright. Direwolves and dragons together in one place is still ominous, though, isn't it?"

"I will admit that much."

"Where has this sudden curiosity about the bastard emerged from?"

"Pycelle and Connington were raving about the authority that his grace has bestowed upon him." Monford responded. "Even I will confess some confusion about the entire situation. Giving him such authority will displease the Martells and Dorne and we both know how many lords and ladies in this stinking city are not happy about a bastard's sudden elevation into authority that overtakes their own."

"They have naught to fear from him." Aurane looked a little amused. "Snow keeps to himself from what I have heard and seen."

"That is all well and good." Monford sucked in a languid breath. "Those unruly squids of the Iron Islands have been seen around some coasts in the crownlands on their ships. I believe lord Baratheon thinks they plan to rebel against the crown."

"And risk dragonfire?" Aurane held open a door for him, then went into the hallway after him. "The ironborn are not foolish enough to risk that, oh uncaring brother of mine."

"Yet dragons do not stop rebellions, Aurane." Monford's mouth crinkled into a grim smile. "Red Harren, Lodos the Twice-Drowned, and the Faith once rebelled against king Aenys and king Maegor. One had the Black Dread and that fearsome beast did not stop men from revolting."

"You speak true enough." Aurane shrugged again. "A lack of dragons does not stop rebellions either. His grace revolted against the Mad King and won."

"Do not remind me of that blasted war." Monford scowled, but calmed himself. "We are fortunate enough that his grace did not place any major punishments on my predecessor for siding with king Aerys."

Lucerys Velaryon had been the master of ships on Aerys' small council. When Rhaegar rebelled, House Velaryon supported Aerys instead of Rhaegar. At the end of his rebellion, Rhaegar had been merciful with House Velaryon. Monford had been made master of ships some time thereafter. 'Those punishments still hinder us.'

Monford dismissed Aurane, headed to the stone turret, and returned to his chambers.

(-)

Jon Snow rode back into the Red-Keep on a destrier given to him by a man-at-arms from the retinue who had gathered at a pier in King's Landing to escort them up Aegon's Hill. Viserys followed after him on a stallion. Ghost slunk towards him, startling the destrier a little. Instead of returning with them to the Red-Keep, Rhaenys had mounted Meraxes and flew off to Dorne. Aegon had flown off to Essos earlier.

No major welcoming party had gathered around the bronze entrance to the Red-Keep. Jon dismounted from his horse, handing the reins to a stable-boy. Viserys got off his stallion, but a gold cloak approached him and whispered into his ear. Scowling, Viserys climbed onto his horse before he hit a foot against his side and left the Red-Keep.

Most of the squires, knights, ladies, servants, and lords who Jon encountered in the hallways of the Red-Keep stayed away from him once they noticed the large but silent and ferocious direwolf next to him. Sauntering across a drawbridge, he entered Maegor's Holdfast, trekked down its massive corridors, and set foot into his chambers.

Ghost walked into the room, curling up on a carpet and closing his red eyes. Foregoing his usual black cloak, Jon put on a grey tunic and a black doublet embellished with dark red lines. He had decided to visit the Red-Keep's library for the first time, so he opened the door. Roused from his slumber, Ghost tailed him on his journey out of his room.

The two of them left Maegor's Holdfast, went through the maze of corridors in the Red-Keep, and walked into the library. People were scattered across the place on benches and seats. Bookshelves were pushed against the walls and high narrow windows let in some light. Heading into the back of the room, Jon checked a few bookshelves.

He retrieved a leather-bound book with a few extracts and copied pages from the book called Winter's Kings or the Legends and Lineages of the Starks of Winterfell created by maester Childer. Seating himself on a timber chair, Jon read through the book for a few minutes. Most of the information in it had been taught to him by maester Luwin. Ghost rested next to his chair, sniffing the air and licking his teeth.

Out of nowhere, a lazy but interested voice said. "A fine read." A tall somewhat lean boy with tangled blond hair and light green eyes loomed over Jon's chair and table. His orange doublet had House Lannister's famed lion sewn into its front and back in yellow and an aureate belt encrusted in red gemstones encircled his red breeches.

'A Lannister?' Jon blinked in realization. "Are—?"

"Lann Lannister? I am indeed." Lann's grin was listless. "I believe you saw me out in the courtyard when I lost that duel against your brother."

Steffon Baratheon had told him about Lann, Jon recalled. Ghost twitched and opened one red eye. Lann peered at the direwolf in obvious fascination, shaking his head and widening his grin.

"A direwolf is an uncommon sight in the South." Lann said. "I've grown quite accustomed to seeing those dragons flying above the city. My brother Tyrion will be jealous that he wasn't able to see this first."

'Tyrion is his brother?' Jon tilted his head in curiosity. "Is your father lord Tywin?"

"What was it that gave it away, my prince?" Lann scratched his scruffy hair. "You'd be right — lord Tywin Lannister is the man who sired me. Dreadful business, my birth was."

'So Tywin has a fourth child, huh?' Jon mused. "Lord Steffon did tell me that you tended to divide your time between here and Casterly Rock."

"Most times I do." Lann nodded, then looked at Ghost for a moment. "What is Winterfell like? I imagine it must be overrun with direwolves."

"Cold."

"Not one much for description, are you?" Lann chuckled in amusement. "Pardon me, my prince, I shall be off." He inclined his head at him, turned around, and swaggered out of the library.

'What happened to Jaime?' Jon focused on his book. 'He's not a member of the Kingsguard, so I assume he's Tywin's heir again.'

After he finished reading some extra pages, Jon rose from his chair and crammed the book back into its shelf. Ghost perked up and followed him out of the library. Life at King's Landing had been dull for the most part. Viserys, Aegon, and Rhaenys all had their own duties. He missed Winterfell, he realized with haunting clarity. Ruffling Ghost's fur, Jon walked ahead of him and went to Maegor's Holdfast.

Once he had changed into grey armour and had equipped himself with his sheathed bastard blade, he headed out onto the courtyard. Ghost trod to the sidelines, curled up into himself, and licked his paws.

Aegon had not returned from his spontaneous trip to Essos on dragonback, though Jon spotted a decent number of squires, lords, and knights in the courtyard. He spent the next hour sparring against a few squires and experienced knights until Aurane approached him.

"My prince." Aurane nodded at him with a sharp but bored grin. "Would you care for a duel?" He unsheathed his longsword.

"Of course, ser."

Aurane charged at him, swinging his sword in a lazy horizontal motion. Jon was on the back foot, but he weaved away from the slash and parried a second one aimed at his armoured ribcage. Grinning in amusement, Aurane twisted his hand and swept his blade down.

'His physical strength is greater than mine.' Jon deflected the blow to his pauldron, moving forward and slicing at Aurane's armour. 'But I believe my physical speed is greater than his.'

Letting the blade hit his gauntleted hand, Aurane slammed a kick into Jon's plated stomach and pushed him backwards. Jon dove forward, however, and drove the pommel of his bastard sword into Aurane.

He stumbled for a short moment before he smashed his longsword against Jon's bastard sword. Elbowing his armoured shoulder, Jon backed off. Aurane's longsword shot towards him and resumed their clash. Both of their blades flew out of their hands at the same time.

Aurane's smile was indifferent. "A draw." He picked up his longsword, sheathed it, and chuckled. "You have quite the talent."

'He was holding back.' Jon picked up his blade, putting it into its sheath. "My thanks."

Aurane lowered his head, then exited the courtyard in silence. Jon unsheathed his blade and searched for someone else to duel.

(-)

He had finished his final duel for the day. The squire who he had defeated bowed, went to his knight, and withdrew from the courtyard alongside him. Everyone else in the yard was also leaving. Ghost stretched, letting loose an inaudible yawn and sauntering over to him.

However, Ghost shifted his attention onto a small oak tree planted in a corner of the courtyard and sniffed at the air. Blinking his red eyes, the direwolf nudged Jon and pointed his snout towards the tree.

'What has him so fussed up?' Jon followed his direwolf's gaze and noticed a crow perched on a tree. Two beady light blue eyes stared into his grey ones. The crow cawed, swooping down at him and securing himself on his shoulder. 'A crow, huh?' He touched a black feather. "And where did you come from?" The crow pecked at him.

Ghost remained apathetic, though he flashed his teeth at the bird. Cawing at him, the crow flew off of Jon's shoulder and landed on Ghost's head. Snarling in silence, Ghost ran around in a semi-circle.

"It looks like you've made a new friend on our behalf, boy." He addressed his direwolf in a dry voice. 'Bloodraven, is this a sign from you?' Jon mused to himself, half-joking and half-unnerved. 'Ravens and crows are kind of his things, aren't they?'

The crow drove its beak into Ghost in annoyance, glided back onto Jon's shoulder, and ruffled his feathers. Ghost's growl was silent.

"You're not as silent as Ghost, but you are quieter than most." Jon's voice grew more idle. He looked at his direwolf in amusement. "Maybe I should name this one Spectre? You'd do well to have a friend, boy."

Ghost's crimson eyes peered at him, unamused. The crow dubbed Spectre tilted his head in approval and Jon patted his feathers.

Bloodraven wasn't a man Jon had given much thought — the Others had not stirred yet and there was no Bran Stark for him to mentor in this universe. Had Bloodraven taken an interest in a different Stark? Jon closed his grey eyes. 'Winter is coming, but there is still time.' He opened his eyes. Spectre spiralled upwards and vanished over a roof.

(-)

Jon dined in his chambers — lunch was some kind of fresh pie embellished with several types of berries to sweeten the overall taste of the meal. Ghost devoured his cooked venison. Once they had eaten their meals, he left his chambers with Ghost and returned their plates to the kitchens. Since he had nothing else planned for the day, Jon decided to wander around the Red-Keep. Ghost tailed him.

Elia Martell had given him a decent tour around the Red-Keep upon his arrival, so Jon knew where he was going. He had forgotten his way around some parts of the Red-Keep, however, because there hadn't been much reason for him to visit these different areas in the castle.

Whenever a passing knight, lord, lady, scullion, or servant noticed him, they either bowed or inclined their heads in acknowledgment in his direction. Some scurried away from him after seeing Ghost's teeth.

Walking through a pair of oaken doors coated in metal, Jon encountered Rhaegar alongside Arthur Dayne. The two of them were talking, but Rhaegar spotted him and stopped. Arthur also paused.

'What are the chances?' Jon subdued his grimace and lowered his head. "Your grace." He spoke. "Ser Arthur."

"Ah, Jon." Rhaegar looked lost in thought for a second, then he motioned a hand at him and smiled. "I did tell you we would talk more in the Red-Keep, didn't I? I imagine you must be feeling confused."

'What is there to be confused about? Why you pulled me out of Winterfell or why you named me a prince with no explanation.' Outside the window, a caw was released somewhere in the clouds. "Yes, sire."

"Follow me." Rhaegar turned around, heading down the hallway. "It would be best if we spoke elsewhere instead of such an open space."

Ghost and Arthur trailed behind them, accompanying them through several massive hallways, below an archway framed in bronze, through a gilded door, and into a wide room. Portraits of dragons hung on the walls and tapestries of countless famed Targaryens joined them. Two tables were set against the yellow wall to the left and the blue wall to the right. Jon noticed the books and scrolls on these unembellished tables and appraised the dragon-shaped statues on them. Some of them were made of wood, gold, silver, and bronze.

Jon grew wry. 'This reminds me of Daenerys' study chambers.'

Arthur opted to guard the entrance to the room, so he stayed outside of it. Ghost settled himself on his haunches. Rhaegar scanned Ghost for a second, shook his head to himself, and looked at a portrait of his mount Vermithor. Light came in from the arch windows and Vermithor's portrait twinkled. Rhaegar placed his palm on it.

"You must have questions." Rhaegar remarked. "About why I've decided to take you out of Winterfell and away from your kin."

Jon's features were blank. "Indeed, your grace."

"You know." Rhaegar trailed off, becoming even more lost in thought and somehow changing the topic of their discussion. "Most of the dragon motifs you see here were gifts from people across the realm — merchants, nobles, and magisters from Essos and nobles from here."

"How kind of them."

"They wanted to fall into my good graces, of course." Rhaegar chuckled. "Having an ally with a dragon does sound wondrous, does it not?" He patted Vermithor's portrait. "I hear you tried to claim one."

"Prince Aegon suggested it." Jon shrugged. 'Those damn headaches.'

"It is no easy feat to claim a dragon." Rhaegar said. "Some Targaryens went their entire lives without a dragon prior to their extinction." Vermithor's portrait twinkled once more. "But they have returned to us."

"Aegon Targaryen, Rhaenys Targaryen, and Visenya Targaryen conquered the realm on their mounts." He proclaimed. "There were three heads for the dragon, but there was also Orys Baratheon."

Rhaegar lowered his hand from the portrait. "You will understand why I have taken you from Winterfell in due time."

'Cryptic much.'

He was dismissed from the room. Ghost followed after him and the two of them travelled through hallways, across chambers, and walked out of two double wooden doors. Maegor's Holdfast loomed over them from its position in the Red-Keep and Jon traversed its draw-bridge.

'He didn't even explain anything.' He grunted. 'All these damn riddles…'

Ghost and Jon went to his chambers.