Chapter 11

"How are you feeling, my son?" Rhaegar asked, his lilac eyes studying Jon intently.

He had visited Jon every day, but this was the first time they were truly alone. Over the past few days, Jon had spent much of his time with Lyanna, yet he realized he had never shared a private moment with Rhaegar before.

"I'm alright," Jon replied hesitantly. "Getting better every day."

Rhaegar nodded slowly. "That is good to hear. You gave your mother and me quite a scare."

"I'm sorry for that," Jon said, lowering his gaze.

Rhaegar's eyes softened, but his voice remained firm. "What you did for that servant boy… it was brave, but also reckless. You are my son, Aegon. My heir. If we had lost you…" He paused, his expression briefly clouded with emotion. "It would have destroyed your mother. And the implications for the stability of the realm…"

He leaned forward slightly, his tone growing more intense. "You simply cannot risk your life like that. You have responsibilities, not only to us as your family but to the entire realm. Do you understand?"

Jon hesitated, unsure how to respond. He understood the weight of Rhaegar's words, the gravity of being an heir to a throne, yet it felt distant, like a story belonging to someone else.

"I… I didn't think," Jon admitted quietly. "When I saw him in danger, I just… acted."

Rhaegar regarded him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Your instinct to protect is commendable, but as a ruler, you must temper it with wisdom. The choices you make, Aegon, cannot be guided by impulse alone. They must serve the greater good."

The greater good. Jon had heard those words before, at Castle Black, from Maester Aemon, from Jeor Mormont. But here, they carried a different weight. Aegon's greater good wasn't the safety of a few brothers or a single fortress; it was the fate of an entire realm.

"I understand," Jon said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"Do you?" Rhaegar pressed, his lilac eyes narrowing slightly. "Because there is no room for doubt. You carry the blood of kings and dragons. The crown that will one day rest upon your head is more than a symbol, it is a burden, one that demands sacrifice. You will need to be stronger, wiser, and more careful."

Jon swallowed hard, a flicker of rebellion rising within him. He met Rhaegar's gaze, the weight of his own experiences driving his response. "He was a boy. I couldn't just stand by and watch him get crushed."

For a moment, Rhaegar said nothing, his gaze locked on Jon. Then, to Jon's surprise, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps there is more of your mother in you than I thought."

Jon blinked, caught off guard. "My mother?"

"Yes," Rhaegar said, leaning back. "She would have done the same thing. Lyanna always acted with her heart, even when it defied reason. She would rather face a storm than let someone suffer needlessly."

The room fell into a contemplative silence. Jon wasn't sure how to feel about Rhaegar's words, whether they were a compliment or a quiet rebuke. He decided to take them as the former.

"I'll do better," Jon said after a moment. "For her. For you. For… everyone."

Rhaegar studied him carefully, his expression softening once again. "That is all I ask, my son. Learn from your mistakes. And trust that you do not bear this burden alone. Your family stands with you."

Jon nodded slowly. Family. The word still felt foreign to him, but he was beginning to understand what it meant in Aegon's world.

"As you seem to be recovering well, the wedding will take place as planned," Rhaegar continued. "It is vital for you to have an heir as soon as possible, my son."

Jon stiffened at Rhaegar's words, the weight of the statement sinking into him like a stone. An heir. A child. The concept felt as foreign to him as his new name and identity. He had never considered himself ready for such a responsibility. The thought of marrying Lady Faye, not to mention sharing a bed with her, had felt distant.

"I see," Jon said cautiously, unsure of how else to respond.

Rhaegar's gaze remained steady, though there was no harshness in it, only the quiet intensity of a king imparting wisdom. "The stability of the realm rests on continuity. The people must see their future secured, and that future lies in you and your children."

Jon's jaw tightened. It wasn't that he opposed the idea outright, he understood the logic behind it. But the weight of such expectations, piled atop the life he was still trying to piece together, felt suffocating.

Rhaegar studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "I know this is a heavy burden, Aegon. I carried it myself, as did those who came before me. But remember, this is not only a duty, it is an honor. The legacy of House Targaryen is yours to preserve and strengthen. You are capable of this, my son. And I believe Lady Faye will be a good wife for you. She is young, but dutiful and in excellent health. The Maesters assured me that she is more than capable of giving birth to your children."

Jon's stomach turned at Rhaegar's clinical assessment of Lady Faye, as if she were little more than a vessel for the Targaryen bloodline. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his mind was spinning. The Maesters. Health. Children. It all felt so detached, so cold. Was this how marriages were discussed in the world he now inhabited?

"Yes, she seems… dutiful," Jon said, struggling to find the right words. He hoped that he had managed to fix some of the damage Aegon had done, but in truth, Jon barely knew her.

"She is," Rhaegar said, his tone softening slightly. "And she has been raised with an understanding of her role. Lord Arryn was very fond of her, and he spoke highly of her temperament and her dedication to duty. In time, I believe you will find her to be a good partner."

Jon nodded, though the gesture felt mechanical. Partner. Duty. Legacy. It was all so far removed from the life he'd known, from the bonds he'd forged at Winterfell and beyond. Marriage had been something he'd never truly considered, let alone as a duty to secure political alliances and produce heirs.

"You must see this union not as a burden," Rhaegar continued, his voice firm but not unkind, "but as a foundation upon which to build your reign. The realm looks to you, Aegon. Your choices, your actions, they will shape its future."

Jon forced himself to meet Rhaegar's gaze. "I'll do what is expected of me," he said evenly, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.

Rhaegar studied him for a long moment before nodding. "I know you will. You have my blood, Aegon, the blood of the dragon."

The phrase "the blood of the dragon" hung in the air, heavy with expectation. Jon clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to respond. The blood of the dragon. Those words seemed to be the cornerstone of everything Rhaegar believed, as if it alone justified the weight of their family's legacy.

But Jon wasn't sure he believed in it. Blood didn't make a man honorable. Blood didn't forge loyalty or build trust. Those things came from deeds, from choices, from something deeper than lineage.

Rhaegar's expression softened. "I do not say this to burden you further, Aegon. But to remind you of who you are. Of what you are capable of. You are strong, my son, and I believe you will rise to meet every challenge before you. Not just for the realm, but for yourself."

Jon nodded, though inwardly, the words felt hollow. His strength had always been born of survival, of the struggle to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. It wasn't some inherited trait of a king or a dragon.

Rhaegar stood, his robes flowing as he moved toward the door. He paused, turning back to Jon. "I'll leave you to rest. But remember, your mother and I are here to guide you. Whatever doubts you carry, you do not carry them alone."

Jon remained silent as Rhaegar left, the door closing softly behind him. He leaned back against the pillows, staring up at the intricate carvings on the ceiling. The blood of the dragon. The future of the realm. An heir. It all felt suffocating, pressing down on him like a weight he hadn't asked to bear.

His thoughts drifted to Lady Faye, the woman who would soon become his wife.

He couldn't understand how Aegon had ever seen her as plain. Perhaps she wasn't as strikingly beautiful as the naked women who had once graced his chamber, but she was far from unpleasant to look at. She was quite short, true, but that didn't bother Jon. There was a certain grace and dignity about her, evident in her actions after his accident. Despite the way Aegon had treated her, she had been willing to care for him, offering him a second chance.

But who was she really?

He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. He would meet her again soon, and perhaps then, he could begin to understand the person behind the duty. And perhaps, he thought with a flicker of resolve, he could carve out a place for himself in this world, one that was shaped not by the blood of the dragon, but by the man he chose to be.

"Your Grace," Lady Faye greeted Lyanna with a respectful curtsy.

"I'm glad you're here, dear," Lyanna replied warmly. "I'm sure Aegon must be getting tired of my company by now."

"I'm not, Mother," Jon chimed in from the bed. "I'm grateful for your care."

Lyanna smiled at him, her expression tender, before turning her attention back to Lady Faye.

"Thank you for keeping him company," she said.

"Of course, Your Grace, it's no trouble," Lady Faye replied.

Lyanna walked over to Jon's bedside, lightly touching his uninjured arm. "I'll be back soon, Aegon," she said softly, then took her leave.

As the door closed behind the Queen, Lady Faye stepped closer to the bed.

"How are you feeling, Your Grace?" she asked.

"I'm fine, truly," Jon assured her. "My mother just doesn't want to take any chances."

Lady Faye nodded, her expression thoughtful. "That's understandable. You are the Crown Prince, after all. And it's clear your mother loves you very much."

Jon smiled faintly at her words, though they stirred a mix of emotions in him. Lyanna did love him, of that he had no doubt. Her presence in the last few days had been a comforting constant, though it also reminded him of the complexities of this new life.

"Thank you for saying that," Jon said softly. He studied her, trying to see beyond the formal demeanor she wore like armor. Her voice was steady, her posture poised, but there was a kindness in her eyes that intrigued him.

Lady Faye gave a small smile, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "It's the truth, Your Grace. Anyone can see it." She hesitated briefly before picking up the book she had brought. "Shall I read to you?"

"Thank you, but perhaps later, if you don't mind," Jon replied, his voice measured. He wasn't dismissing her offer but was searching for something more meaningful, a chance to understand the woman who would soon become his wife.

"No, I don't mind at all, Your Grace. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Jon hesitated, then took a chance. "Well, you don't have to call me 'Your Grace' when we're alone, you know."

Faye blinked, her composed expression faltering for just a moment. "What should I call you, then?"

"Aegon," Jon said, though the name still felt foreign and heavy on his tongue.

She studied him for a moment, her head tilting slightly. "Very well… Aegon."

A quiet pause lingered between them, delicate yet charged with unspoken possibilities. Jon seized the moment to steer the conversation toward her. "I owe you my thanks," he said earnestly. "You've been most gracious. More than I deserve after how I treated you."

Faye's expression softened, though a shadow of hesitation remained. "I believe we can leave that behind us. I won't deny your… behavior made things difficult for me when I first arrived at court. But you've proven there is kindness in you. Not many highborn men would risk their lives for a servant."

Jon felt a twinge of guilt. "So… you're willing to give me a second chance?"

She nodded slowly, her gaze steady. "I am. We are to be married, after all, and I hope there can be respect between us. I know I'm not as beautiful as the women you are accustomed to, but I will do my best to be a dutiful wife. In return, I ask only to be treated with respect." She paused, her voice growing quieter but no less firm. "And, should you choose to keep your… companions, I ask only for discretion."

Jon's stomach churned at Faye's words, though he forced himself to keep his expression neutral. Her tone was calm and measured, but the underlying resignation struck him like a blow. The idea that she had already resigned herself to a loveless marriage, one in which she expected him to take lovers as long as he maintained appearances, unsettled him deeply.

"I…" Jon began, struggling to find the right words. "I think you misunderstand me."

Faye raised an eyebrow, though her expression remained polite. "Do I?"

"Yes," Jon said firmly. "I have no intention of disrespecting you, and I have no interest in keeping… companions, as you put it."

For the first time, Faye's composure cracked. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes widened in surprise. "You don't?"

Jon shook his head, his voice steady. "No. I won't pretend this is easy for either of us, and I know I've done little to earn your trust. But I meant what I said, I'd like for us to have a fresh start. And that means treating you with the respect you deserve, not just as my wife, but as a person."

Faye blinked, seemingly at a loss for words. For a moment, Jon feared he had said the wrong thing, but then she gave him a small, tentative smile.

"That… that would be most thoughtful," she said softly.

Jon relaxed slightly, relieved to see the tension ease from her posture. "I meant every word."

"I have to ask," Faye said after a moment, her voice thoughtful. "Why this change of heart?"

Jon hesitated, then said quietly, "I suppose I finally came to my senses. As I said, only a fool would mistreat you, my lady."

"You can call me Faye, Your Grace… Aegon."

Jon smiled faintly, nodding. "Faye, then."

She glanced at the book in her hands. "Shall I read to you now?"

Jon considered her offer before shaking his head. "Not just yet. Tell me about yourself instead."

Faye's surprise flickered briefly across her face before she regained her composure. "Very well. What would you like to know?"

"Well… I heard you kept a falcon as a companion back home."

A shadow passed over Faye's face, though she nodded. "I did. Her name was Skye. She was with me for many years, but she passed away three months ago, not long after my father."

"I'm sorry," Jon said sincerely. "And I'm sorry about your father. Lord Arryn… he was a good man."

Faye's expression softened. "He was. I know he hoped for a son, but he was stuck with me instead. He never treated me any less for being a girl, though."

"It must have been hard," Jon said quietly, "to care for him until the end."

Faye shook her head, her voice steady. "He was my father. Of course I cared for him."

Jon nodded, taking a moment before continuing. "I also heard you enjoy swimming."

Faye's lips curved into a small smile. "I do. Very much. How about you?"

"Well, I can't say I'm much of a swimmer," Jon admitted, "but I'd like to try, once my arm heals."

Her smile deepened, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Perhaps it would be safer for you to start in the swimming bath in the grand bathing chamber."

Jon frowned slightly. "The grand bathing chamber?"

"Yes," she said, her tone light but teasing. "The one here in the royal quarters. I haven't been there myself, but my handmaiden caught a glimpse of it once. She said the swimming bath looks like a small lake."

Jon's brow furrowed. "Why haven't you been there, if you enjoy swimming?"

Faye hesitated, her amusement fading as she glanced away. "To be honest, I wasn't sure if I would be welcome there."

Jon's frown deepened. "What do you mean, not welcome?"

She hesitated again before answering, her voice quieter. "Well… you made it quite clear how you felt about me. I thought… if you found me there, you might throw me out."

Jon felt a pang of guilt at Faye's words, her honesty cutting through him like a blade. He hated knowing how Aegon's previous behavior had made her feel so unwelcome in what was meant to be her home as well.

"That won't happen," Jon said firmly, his voice laced with sincerity. "You're as welcome there as anyone else, more so. I should have made that clear from the start."

Faye studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge his words for hidden meanings. When she seemed satisfied, she gave a small nod. "Thank you, Aegon. That… means a great deal."

Jon leaned back against the pillows, exhaling slowly. "It seems I have a lot to make up for."

Faye's lips curved into a faint smile. "You're making a good start."

He smiled in return, though his thoughts lingered on her earlier words. "You said your father never treated you any less for being a girl. That says a lot about the kind of man he was."

Faye nodded, her expression growing wistful. "He was. He taught me to read, to ride, and even a little about managing the affairs of a lordship. He believed in duty and fairness above all else. Losing him was…" She hesitated, taking a breath. "It was difficult."

"I'm sure it was," Jon said gently. "He must have been proud of you."

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, he saw a vulnerability there that she usually kept hidden. "I hope so."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, and Jon found himself wondering how he could have been so blind to her strength and grace before.

"Faye," he said after a moment, his tone tentative, "I know this marriage wasn't your choice, any more than it was mine. But I hope… I hope we can make it work."

She looked at him, surprised again by his words. Then her expression softened, and she gave a small, genuine smile. "So do I."