Arthur: I'm sorry for the lateness. Life is hard
Aegon
Blood trickled down Aegon's face from his fierce bout with Robb Stark, warm and vivid against the purple dragon perched on his shoulder. The crimson liquid stung his eyes, but he refused to blink. How could he, when the world stood mesmerized by his newfound power?
The tourney grounds fell into a hushed silence at first, all eyes from his family to the Kingsguard fixed upon him. Then, like pieces moving on a cyvasse board, the trumpets blared, and lords began to voice their awe.
"Our prince has a dragon!" exclaimed a petty lord.
"All hail our future king – Aegon Targaryen!" cheered a bannerman from the Riverlands.
"The dragon's scales match his eyes – purple!" added another voice.
Soon, their voices blended into a powerful chorus of praise, washing over Aegon like a welcoming tide. A tear welled in the corner of his eye.
If only you were here, Father, to witness their praise, Aegon thought wistfully.
"Aegon! Aegon! Aegon! Aegon! Aegon!" The chants swirled around him, echoing his name to the heavens.
He closed his eyes, savoring the moment as thousands cheered his name. Would they have ever cheered for Maegor like this? Doubtful. Aegon knew he was the true heir to the Iron Throne, far surpassing his brother, a mere second son.
The guards struggled to contain the frenzied smallfolk, who broke through to hoist him high. A thousand hands carried him from the tourney grounds, voices raw from shouting his name. The dragon on his shoulder screeched in exhilaration, further stoking the crowd's fervor.
Before they disappeared, Aegon locked eyes with Robb Stark. This time, he allowed himself a wink and an infectious smile, despite his bloody eye and Robb's scowl as he cradled his broken arm.
"Aegon! Aegon! Aegon! Aegon!" The chants followed him into the distance, marking the beginning of his ascent to power.
Daenerys
I can't believe it…two dragons…House Targaryen now has two dragons in ten days. Jon has one. Aegon has the other….
Feelings warred within her as House Targaryen and Martell filtered into the room and took their seats. Harsh whispers were exchanged aplenty as everyone had something to say. Her mother sent her a look of concern.
Not one person in this room lacks cunning – except maybe Quentyn. I am not eager to see the politics of having another dragon in the family.
Daenerys loved dragons. She and Rhaegar would spend countless hours poring over ancient texts and tombs of the fire-breathing creatures that gave them power and the seven kingdoms of Westeros. As a child – and even now – Dany loved to imagine being in the clouds and avoiding the ugly nature of the world where everyone sought to trample over the other.
Jon being the rider already split the family into two, Dany said, eyeing everyone at the table. With Aegon also having a dragon, and with everyone knowing the hatred between the two, who knows what can happen?
The very likely outcome made her wring her fingers until Rhaella put to a stop to it with a gentle touch only a loving mother could provide. Dany sent her a smile in thanks. Why can't everyone get along and love each other?
Discussion abruptly ended when Aegon strolled through the room with Arthur Dayne at his back and the new dragon at his shoulder. Aegon had freshened up and discarded his armor, a splitting image of a Targaryen prince. Every eye went directly to the dragon as the purple creature hissed and swerved its head. Oberyn looked very smug, not surprisingly. Elia looked satisfied. The rest of them were in awe, even Obara, whose jaw was slightly slackened.
More importantly, Dany could see the genuine smile on Aegon's face – a real, warm smile Dany remembered long ago. Oh…Aegon, where did that sweet little boy go?
Aegon felt her gaze and turned his head. Dany looked away and steeled herself.
What's dead stays dead.
For a time they were content in staring at the new power duo. Aegon was content in standing there in front of the room and letting them soak it in with an easy smile on his face.
Rhaenys broke the ice. She went to Aegon and rubbed the scab on his head with her thumb. "For the price of acquiring a dragon – you only had to get your thick-headed skull smacked around by a lance to achieve it. Typical."
She was rewarded with a few chuckles from the room and a warm smile from Aegon. Rhaenys then placed both hands on his cheeks. "Egg, you have a dragon," she breathed with a bright smile. "My words cannot dare express of how happy I am for you."
I used to touch him like that. Dany quickly threw away such thoughts.
The one thing Dany knew about Rhaenys was how supportive she was of Aegon no matter the situation. She gives love whenever Rhaegar was lacking and because of that Aegon never fails to gobble it up. This was their greatest strength and their greatest weakness. For whatever good Aegon does that Rhaenys acknowledges – Rhaenys turns a blind eye to his wrongs. When Aegon is happy – Rhaenys is happy. Right now for example – things can easily get dire with Jon and Aegon both having dragons. Not even mentioning how Aegon single-handedly alienated House Tyrell. There was no peep of the Tyrells in this room whatsoever.
And if – and I mean if- my worst fears come true, what side would she choose? Dany worried. She sees how Rhaenys looked at Jon. She didn't even need to think about the scabble she just had with Princess Arianne.
… and Daenerys cannot for one blame her.
As a child she loved stories. Her nephew happened to have the best one of them all. Well, I wouldn't say the best. No doubt he has experienced much hardship and anguish. But to pull through all of that and be a dragon rider today? Unbelievable. Jon seemed such a hardened warrior with his scar and the serious face he always wore. But Dany can sense a deep sadness in him as well. Her heart goes out to him.
Daenerys sensed a complex duality in Jon—a struggle between light and darkness that inexplicably drew her to him. I could bring him happiness, she thought, momentarily pushing aside her guilt. But Aegon's warm smile brought an unwelcome pang of remorse. I have no reason to feel this way, she insisted stubbornly. He's married to the pride of House Tyrell, the second wealthiest house in the realm. He can't explore Essos, meet Dothraki, converse with Volantene magisters, or delve into the mysteries of Old Valyria like Jon can.
However, the feeling did not dissipate. Seeing Aegon's smile made her recall the times when they would chase each other around the gardens breathlessly and sneak cake and kisses for much of the day.
It sometimes very difficult to associate that boy with the man standing in front of her. Dany observed Aegon's behavior quite closely for much of the time at Harrenhall. Nothing gained that much concern until Jon's parentage came to light, and Dany could see the cracks where she could see another person living under Aegon's beautiful skin.
It frightened her.
"Glorious indeed!" Oberyn stated, pouring himself a cup of wine. "Glorious indeed."
Arianne was more curious. "What. Happened?" The princess demanded the room, although deliberately refusing to look at Rhaenys. Though, Dany was none the wiser.
Oberyn shrugged. "A course of unfortunate events that led to a very fruitful finale." He raised his hands in a soothing gesture as Arianne glared.
"I am very curious as to what happened as well," Quentyn spoke up surprisingly. Though that earned him a side eye from Arianne.
Elia turned to Arthur. "Ser Arthur, my ability to recall what happened is dubious at best with all the chaos and disorder that issued. Can you please enlighten us?"
Now The Sword of the Morning was the center of attention. "I assigned ten good men to protect the procedure of the princess' outing and to protect the princesses from each other…"
At that Rhaenys and Arianne gave him a look.
"….Not fifteen minutes in before brigands flew from the trees with sword and spear. We were quick to engage in this sudden threat. They attacked from all sides. The princesses''' safety was the priority and thus my sister was snatched amid the turmoil." Dany saw a glimpse of shame.
"When all the file attackers were dealt with, and the princesses'' efficiently guarded I rode forward to retrieve my sister. I was successful." At that Arthur Dayne fell silent to Dany's dismay.
That's it? Dany frowned.
Aegon had the same mind. He stepped forward. "What else?" Lines appeared on Arthur's face. This made Dany even more curious.
"That's enough for now Aegon," Elia was quick to say.
However, Arthur obediently did as the prince ordered. "When I was giving chase my horse was cut from under me and I was face to face with my cousin Gerold Dayne."
Gasps rang around the room, Dany among them. Oh no, Arthur…Her sadness grew as the tale continued; she knew where this was going.
"We crossed swords and did battle briefly before I split his sword in two and killed him."
He killed his cousin….Dany blinked her eyes rapidly.
There were more gasps.
"That's horrible," Rhaella whispered. Dany had to agree with her.
"He's dead?" Arianne deadpanned. Nymeria and Obara gave her a knowing look. Dany wondered what that meant.
"Such is the price of stupidity," Rhaenys muttered. As much as her niece's nonchalant attitude bothered her, Dany had to agree.
"What awful business," Ellaria said, struggling to keep Oberyn's youngest daughters in their seats. Meanwhile, Oberyn said, "How did you kill him?" He was smiling.
"Kinslayer!" Tyene accused, very much a fervent follower of the seven.
This rewarded her a fiery glare from Arthur that bore such intensity that the sand snake and everyone felt compelled to clamp their mouths shut. Dany felt a brick in her throat when his violet eyes swept over her.
"Do not presume me to act on something so carelessly and so recklessly, my lady and my lords. I put Dawn through his heart, and it came out blackened. My cousin thought he had free impunity to do as his evil heart desired as he did in Dorne. This is not Dorne. This is Westeros where the Kingsguard protects the king and the royal family. If I have to eliminate my blood to do my duty and be forever known as a kinslayer – I will do it again gladly."
"If Gerold became so bold as to attack the royal family – even indirectly – imagine what he would do with a full-grown dragon."
"So you are saying the dragon belonged to Darkstar first?" Aegon asked quietly. Dany caught his meaning and sighed.
"Yes, my prince. When I had him dead to rights he began to call out for it. I thought of him mad until I saw a real breathing dragon fly through the trees. For whatever reason, the dragon did not obey Gerold when he ordered the creature to burn me alive."
"The dragon realized how foolish it was to follow such a wanton cuck and decided to follow someone more suitable for it. Like the rightful prince," Oberyn said, wheeling his eyes over to Aegon.
The purple dragon spread its scaley wings, to the delight of the little sand snakes, and Dany herself, and hissed as if in agreement. Despite that, Aegon did not say a word. Dany sensed the change of demeanor in the prince; his cheerful manner was all but gone replaced by a stony fortitude.
"If that is all," Arthur said.
"How many men died?" Aegon asked.
"Five."
"That is all."
Dany swallowed hard. Those poor men. They didn't know they were going to die today…
Arthur closed the door behind him and left them in a comprehending silence. They were satisfied looking the dragon over. Sensing all the eyes on it, the dragon crawled on and across Aegon's body like a purple serpent.
It was a heartbeat or two before Arianne said, "The creature is beautiful. The color of its scales is the same as your eyes, cousin." There was a hum of agreement.
"Truly marvelous," Rhaenys agreed.
"Can I touch it, momma?" Loreza asked.
"That's not smart sweetie."
For a minute or two the room was full of flowerful and generous praises to which Aegon only nodded off too.
"What are you going to name it?" The words flew out of Dany's mouth without thinking. The question was born out of genuine curiosity, but Dany almost regretted it when Aegon looked at her and held her gaze for a tad bit longer than necessary.
"His name is Mystic."
Dany nodded and quickly looked away, heat rushing to her cheeks.
As the gods would have it someone asked, "Is the dragon going to look like Cannibal?"
It was like setting off a hornet nest.
That someone was Quentyn. Aegon almost snapped his neck to glower at him. "Mystic will be more worth than Cannibal when he's fully grown thrice over!" He snarled. Quentyn lowered his eyes and visibly flinched in his chair when Mystic snapped at him, smoke steaming from his snout.
And so Dany saw the creature under the skin yet again.
Aegon
"I wish to be alone with my mother and uncle, please," Aegon declared calmly. "And I don't want a word to be said of Arthur and Gerold." The others rose from their seats, leaving the room at his command. As Dany's figure disappeared through the door, Aegon couldn't help but fix his gaze upon her until she was gone. Nothing, not even his father, could stand between them now.
"A toast, dear nephew," Oberyn raised a jeweled cup high. "A toast to your victory!"
"Do you call this a victory?" Aegon retorted, his anger simmering like a weed in his gut.
Elia raised an eyebrow. "How can this be seen as anything but a triumph?"
"You two schemed this, didn't you?" Aegon's accusation was sharp.
"Sweet as honey," Oberyn leaned back, crossing his legs over the table. "Not only did we rid ourselves of that dark mess Darkstar, but you've got yourself a dragon! Why the long face?"
"You both conspired behind my back, behind Father's back, with Darkstar! And I don't care if you intended him dead. You endangered my sister."
"We were ordered not to harm a hair on Rhaenys or Arianne's heads," Elia interjected firmly. "They were never in danger, Aegon."
"Five men died."
"We needed it to seem real. Arthur remains suspicious, but we eliminated everyone involved," Oberyn explained. "Sacrifices are sometimes necessary."
"That's wrong," Aegon snapped. "You killed our own."
Elia's touch on his hand was cold. "We play a dangerous game."
Aegon jerked his hand away. "A dangerous game that got me scraps." His anger flared into a roar. I see you laughing at me, Maegor, he seethed.
Oberyn choked on his wine, laughing. "Dear nephew, did you call a dragon 'scraps'?"
"Maegor has Cannibal, a wild dragon claimed amidst the fires of Old Valyria. They'll compare Mystic to Cannibal and think I settled for second best," Aegon's voice tightened. "Who has the better story? While I scrabbled, that bastard claimed Cannibal."
"Balerion the Black Dread had more than one rider," Elia reminded him.
"Balerion wasn't claimed over a still-warm corpse!"
"Vhagar."
"She wasn't claimed the same damn day! Aemond rode her weeks later! I'm the Targaryen, not you. Don't lecture me on our House's history." Mystic leaped from his shoulder, soaring through the air.
Oberyn ducked Mystic's tail. "Why worry? Mystic chose you."
"Chose me second."
"My boy, who cares about when and how a dragon bonds when Maegor and Cannibal will both perish?" Elia asked.
Robb
"That arrogant prick!" Robb cursed hotly as the healer placed the cast on his arm. The humiliation that coursed through his blood was more painful than the actual pain.
"Lower your voice now," Catelyn warned. "The wrong person can catch wind of this."
You were spared from embarrassment. I am not so lucky.
Robb looked at Jon Arryn who decided to visit him in his pavilion. "My apologies my lord." But he didn't feel an ounce of actual shame. If he could, he would go into the great hall and announce it for all the lords to hear. Jon's brother is an asshole though.
Jon Arryn nodded slowly. "It is alright, lad. Nevertheless, your mother is quite right. Varys the spymaster might not be present but other rats are scurrying across these grounds in the name of the king."
Robb smiled. "Greywind likes to hunt for rats." The huge outline of the Direwolf could be seen making rounds around the pavilion. This tact proved useful deterring possible eavesdroppers and unwanted guests.
Like the Freys, Robb thought with disgust. The Freys were being more troublesome of late. If they weren't pestering and grouping around him like insects, they stared at him with their beady black eyes which Robb liked little.
Robb then sighed and looked at Jon Arryn. "In my eyes, Prince Aegon is more than quarrelsome. He has turned his nose down at me and my house. He has attacked Theon Greyjoy, my father's ward, and my dearest friend who is under my protection. His goonies composed of Dornishmen go around beating on Northmen without repercussions from him or the queen."
Whenever a man-at-arms or even one of the petty lords fought back they were severely punished by the queen, backed by House Targaryen's own guards. And with the prince securing a dragon they were now even too afraid to be confrontational.
Many times Robb was tempted to send Greywind and resolve the issue immediately but every time his mother talked him down from it, much to his shame and anger.
Would erupt to an all-out street warfare she says, Robb thought with frustration. But damn them all! How can I be a lord if I can't keep my own people safe from the smug prince and his bitch of a mother?
Lord Arryn nodded vaguely. "My informants have reported the same. The prince and the queen turning a blind eye to this is a travesty. It is untasteful business, but it does prompt to bring up the conversations we had with House Tyrell."
Yes, the main reason he is here.
Neither Robb nor his mother said anything at first. Robb leaned back in his chair and rubbed his bearded chin. This talk is treason all but in name. My father dislikes the royal family but never once encouraged rebellion. What would he think?
"Partaking in these talks could bear fruit – as insurance," Catelyn said the last part looking at Robb.
A very large part of Robb was pleased. He cannot fight against it. "Very well. It seems to me that Margaery's bed is colder often than not." Robb can very much see there was no warmth between Aegon and Margaery. The prince and his wife being seen together at feasts and events was required by custom more than willingness on their part. Robb can almost grimace imagining his marriage to Alys being that cold. "She and along with her kin was sent to the cells by the order of her own lord husband. Though, I admit – Loras Tyrell stealing away Rhaenys Targaryen did block the sun shining on their House…."
"His actions were too severe and reckless," Lord Arryn finished. "The treason of one does not warrant the punishment of the entire family. At worst – have them confined in their appropriate corridors as befitting of their stations."
"And Lord Willas with his leg was not spared," Catelyn said with a frown.
Robb moved his jaw. "He was not. If he can do this to his family that is bound by marriage who is truly safe from him?" And with that dragon of his that he flaunts above everyone's head. It's been a week since Aegon claimed the dragon, and Robb hopes to the Old Gods that his perceived thinking that the purple dragon was growing larger by the day was merely due to the fact his eyes were not as good as he thought they were.
"If Aegon's line of behavior progresses it would be eerily comparable to that of you-know-who," Jon Arryn said with a pointed look.
Both Robb and his mother grasped his meaning quickly and said not a word of it. Even with Greywind patrolling, I am not that bold to say such words out loud.
Jon Arryn sighed. "This raises another source of discussion – a person the prince cannot so easily throw in a cell. The one person the Tyrells so subtly mentioned in our discussions."
"Jon," Robb said at once.
"Prince Jon," Catelyn corrected him.
Robb bit his tongue. Ever since Jon's parentage came to light, she has been paranoid beyond belief. She has begged me not to escalate things with Aegon and the queen. She begs me not to stop the harassment of our people – another possible escalation with Aegon and the queen. And she begs me to stay on Jon's good side as if we didn't grow up together!
Jon Arryn smiled thinly. "Yes, Prince Jon. Suppose some event transpires where Aegon is indisposed or even passed over for Jon. Your cousin would inherit the Irone Throne."
Robb rubbed his chin again.
"One complication, my lord. Margaery wed Aegon in the Great Sept and said their holy vows in front of the faith of the Seven. Something tells me the Tyrells are not having these discussions for the good of the heart. What's in it for them?"
"If something unfortunate befell the crown prince," Arryn said sagely, seeing Robb and his mother exchange looks. "The Reach harvests the most food and fields the largest army in the realm. If Prince Jon ascends the Iron Throne there's not a better match than Margaery Tyrell."
"Myrcella Targaryen," Robb threw out there.
"Her grandfather threatens to rebel against the Iron Throne and the topic of her parentage is in question."
Robb had to nod at that.
"And I am very curious to hear of Prince Jon's character. He was raised alongside you and your siblings by Ned."
"Jon might have a Targaryen for a father – but he is a Stark. He is a man of his word and has no shortness of justice. My lord father installed in us the code of honor and despite being away – Jon still adheres to that code."
"Prince Jon being away…I heard of rumors of his time in Essos. He is heralded as a legend. But as we all know all legendary figures have their good tales and their bad tales." Jon Arryn gave him a piercing look. "Do the bad tales have some truth in them?"
"Not my place to say, my lord. You will have to speak with him yourself to make your judgment of him. But I gave you my word on it – the son of the man you took in as a ward."
Jon Arryn looked at him for a bit and then smiled. "I see much of your father in you. When you see him next, tell him this old man misses him dearly."
As Jon Arryn left his pavilion Robb thought, this is all understandable. If he raised his banners against a mad king why wouldn't he do it again?
Tyrion
The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the city of Pentos. Tyrion stood in front of one of many lllyrio's manse, the Hound and Bronn trailing closely. The servants of lllyrio Mopatis, ever efficient, hurried to greet him.
"Welcome to Pentos, my lord," said a servant, bowing deeply. "Please, follow me. Lord lllyrio has prepared a room for you and your companions." However, more than a few of them raised their eyes slightly to the snapping Tyshra whose smoke steamed through her nostrils. Her scales glittered gold in the sun. The dragon zipped in the air overhead.
"It's a dragon, yes yes – now lead on," Tyrion snapped. The servants hurriedly did so. The journey through the winding corridors of lllyrio's opulent manse was familiar yet filled with the promise of new secrets. The scent of exotic spices and freshly cut flowers filled the air, mingling with the salty breeze from the sea.
Tyshra, you would've loved it here, Tyrion thought, both angry and sad.
The servant stopped before a large, intricately carved door and opened it with a flourish. With a shriek, Tyshra bolted into the room. "Your room, my lord. A bath has been prepared for you. If you require anything, please do not hesitate to call."
Bronn and the Hound were led to their rooms.
Tyrion entered the room, noting the lavish furnishings and the inviting warmth emanating from the large bath set into the floor. The water steamed gently, scented with lavender and rose petals. Tyrion climbed in, rinsing the grime and blood of travel. Tyshra took It upon herself to land on the bed and shred his pillows.
This is the beginning of my vengeance, Tyrion thought with his eyes narrowed. For me and Tyshra. Tywin Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Aegon, Rhaenys, he thought with gritted teeth. The ghostly sounds of coins hitting the ground echoed in the back of his head.
Tyrion leaned back and closed his eyes. The hot water did nothing to ease his mind full of pain and hate. His hands shook. He thought of Tywin screaming as the flesh peeled from his skin and Tyshra's flames burned him to the Seven Hells where that man truly belonged.
Tyrion heard the door to his chamber open and close softly. "Do you not get the sense I did not wish to be disturbed?" Tyrion said dangerously, opening his eyes with a snarl.
He opened his eyes just for him to see the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Her hair was dyed a vivid shade of blue, her eyes a piercing purple that seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. She wore a mischievous smile.
"Good evening, my lord of Lannister," she purred, her voice like silk. "I am here to assist you with your bath."
Her beauty struck Tyrion to silence. She used that opportunity to draw closer.
"I do not need a slave to wash me," Tyrion snapped out when his voice returned to him, eyeing the woman carefully.
"But, my lord, you are so tense!" She exclaimed cheerfully, putting her hands on his malformed shoulders.
"Are you hard of hearing? I said – do not touch me!" Tyrion fumed.
Her slender hands, however, deftly rubbed the stiff parts in his neck and slowly curbed his protests. Her touch was soft and felt good besides. How can I let her touch me when Tyshra suffered her fate? Tyrion thought in dismay. However, the stunning woman's touch washed away his shame.
"You are quite skilled at this," Tyrion admitted reluctantly. "What is your name?"
The purple-eyed woman took a sponge, dipped it into the water, and began to scrub his back with gentle practiced motions. Tyrion watched her carefully, noting the grace in her movements and the confidence in her demeanor.
"Names can be such fragile things, my lord," she replied, her purple eyes twinkling with mischief. "But you may call me Aelia."
As if you have a choice in the matter. I shall call you what I want, Tyrion thought snidely. Though he said, "Aelia is a beautiful name, no question IIIyrio ordered you from Lys." Though even for a whore from Lys, she is stunning. Very much like Daenerys.
She laughed softly, the sound like music. "You are quite the charmer, my lord. But I have heard much about you from lllyrio. He says you are a man of great wit and intelligence."
She doesn't call the fat man master, Tyrion noticed.
"And what else does our beloved magister say of me?" Tyrion asked, seeking distraction from his dangerous thoughts of Tywin Lannister.
Aelia leaned closer, her lips near his ear. "He says you have a dragon," she whispered dramatically. Tyrion almost smiled. Tyshra watched them from the bed, curled around herself.
Her being this close Tyrion could smell her, enticing. Her sharp valyrian features are all the easier to admire. Without his consent, his groin twitched and grew.
Aelia's hand traveled in the water and wrapped around his cock. "Oh! My giant of Lannister," she whispered, lightly kissing his neck.
Tyrion growled. "Take off your clothes at once."
He tried kissing her, but Aelia danced away, smirking. With a playful twirl, she stood and made her way to the door, her movements fluid and graceful. "Sweet dreams, my lord," she said, her voice like a promise, before disappearing into the shadows.
"Whore! Come back here!" Tyron raged, very red in the face.
She is not an ordinary servant, Tyrion fumed as a few servants guided him through the grand halls of IIIyrio Mopatis' manse. The opulence of the residence was a constant reminder of lllyrio's wealth and influence. Marble floors gleamed under the light of numerous chandeliers, and tapestries depicting scenes of ancient Valyria adorned the walls.
As they approached the dining hall, the rich aroma of roasted meats and exotic spices wafted through the air, making Tyrion's stomach growl in anticipation. The servant stopped before a set of ornate double doors and pushed them open with a bow.
"Lord Tyrion, welcome to supper," he announced.
Tyrion entered the room, his eyes immediately drawn to the lavish feast laid out on the long dining table. The table itself was a masterpiece, crafted from dark wood and inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl. Fine porcelain plates and goblets of polished silver were meticulously arranged at each place setting.
lllyrio Mopatis rose from his seat at the head of the table, his girth barely contained by the richly embroidered robes he wore. His face split into a welcoming smile as he extended his arms.
He is as fat as I remembered or fatter.
"Tyrion, my dear friend! It is a pleasure to see you again. Come, sit, and enjoy the hospitality of my humble home."
Humble?
"Your hospitality is anything but humble," Tyrion said, eyeing the man's stomach.
lllyrio laughed heartily and gestured for Tyrion to take the seat beside him. "Please, make yourself comfortable. We have much to discuss, but first, let us enjoy the feast."
Tyrion settled into his chair, his eyes scanning the array of dishes before him. There was a large roasted boar, its skin crispy and glistening, surrounded by apples and herbs. Next to it sat a platter of quals, stuffed with figs and almonds, their delicate bones arranged in a decorative pattern. Bowls of saffron rice, drizzled with honey and studded with pomegranate seeds, added a splash of color to the spread. Exotic fruits, - mangoes, pomegranates, and figs – were arranged in intricate patterns on silver trays.
Goblets of fine Dornish red wine were already filled and waiting. Tyrion looked at his reflection, imagining it was the blood of Tywin Lannister that could be spilled. He picked up his goblet, savoring the rich aroma before taking a sip. The wine was exquisite, smooth, and full-blooded.
A temporary nerf on a dwarf's never-ending bloodlust, Tyrion thought sarcastically.
lllyrio clapped his hands, and servants appeared to serve the first course. A delicate soup, fragrant with the scent of leeks and garlic, was ladled into porcelain bowls.
After the fat man devoured it in five minutes, IIIyrio leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. "Now, my friend, there are matters of great importance that we must address. You have a living breathing dragon – under my roof. How did this come about?"
Tyrion shrugged, wiping his mouth with a silk napkin. "The Gods may have finally smiled upon the dwarf – who knows."
After a lifetime of shame and mockery. Sons of bitches!
"And you come to me seeking….?"
"I need an army, my friend. I need a big army. I need you to get in contact with the Golden Company – I require their services."
lllyrio folded his jeweled hands over his bulging belly. "And why do you think I can reach out to them?"
"Don't play the fool with me. I've known you have a deeper connection with them than anybody realizes. I haven't figured it out why yet."
lllyrio nodded. "I can arrange that for you. Firstly….you wish to wage war in Westeros."
For the mockery. For the pain. For Tyshra.
"Indeed."
"You said you needed a big army. Yet House Lannister can mobilize such. Why the Golden Company?"
"Because I'm indulging in self-interests. I will be king. And I will have my revenge on those cock-sucking cunts."
The dwarf you fuckers mocked and spat on, ruling over you all.
"There is something you are withholding from me, my friend. What story do you have with the throne for the lords to view you as legitimate? You have a dragon, yes, but what is your story to challenge House Targaryen?"
"I am the son of Aerys Targaryen and Joanna Lannister born from rape, half-brother to Rhaegar, Daenerys, and Viserys Targaryen. I am the Targaryen bastard dwarf coming to Westeros to bring the Golden Company back home on the back of Sunfyre come again."
Tyrion gave the fat man a crooked grin. "How does that story sound?"
"…..Marvelous!...Marvelous!" lllyrio clapped his fat hands together in joy. "Truly a marvelous story….know I have to tell you mine."
The doors to the hall opened, and Aelia entered the room. Her dyed blue hair was now a striking shade of Valyrian silver, cascading down her back in waves. Her eyes, a deep violet, glimmered with a mix of curiosity and mischief. "My giant of Lannister."
Tyrion gapped at her, realization quickly seeping in.
"It seems we both have reasons to seek vengeance, my friend."
"You can have my full support of the Golden Company and Pentos if you take the hand of my daughter."
"And avenge my son by bringing me Jon Snow's head."
Aegon
The courtyard of Harrenhal buzzed with anticipation as the clash between Aegon Targaryen and Cley Cerwyn unfolded under the watchful eyes of assembled lords and ladies. Aegon moved with grace and precision, his swordplay effortless yet deadly, while Cley struggled to match his opponent's speed and skill. Within moments, it became evident that Aegon held the upper hand. With a swift maneuver, he disarmed Cley and brought him to his knees, the defeated knight yielding under the weight of Aegon's prowess.
The onlookers clapped for his victory. Though the spectators comprising of the northern men simply glared, Robb Stark at the frontal.
Too fucking easy. Pathetic.
Robb Stark stood among his bannermen, his expression darkening with each strike Aegon delivered. The Northern lords exchanged uneasy glances, fists clenched in frustration as they watched their ally fall before the Targaryen prince.
Aegon, his silver hair gleaming in the sunlight, turned towards Robb Stark with a smirk playing on his lips. "Is there anyone else among the Northmen who wishes to challenge the might of House Targaryen?"
Robb hesitated, his arm bound in a splint after a recent skirmish. He clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing with anger but also acknowledging his injury.
This has been occurring for days. Aegon would host regular sparring matches. It never failed to bring in the audience. Of course, any lord or knight can join. But when Aegon and the Dornish folk regularly challenged the northerners it quickly became apparent to others that they were just outsiders to this event.
The spars faced fierce competition more than not. Aegon's batch of warriors are spearheaded by Daemon Sand, Gerris Drinkwater, Archibald Yronwood, Cletus Yronwood, and William Wells. Occasionally to Aegon's quiet amusement, Harrold Hardyng – the heir of the Vale after Robert's unfortunate death - Lyn Corbray from the Vale, and Hendry Bracken joined the mock skirmishes against the north, no doubt hoping to secure favor with the crown prince.
Aegon looked over them all and opened his arms. He gave them his best shit-eating grin. "Please tell me that is not the best the north can offer? This is too easy! Where is the challenge? What happened to the mean scruffy warriors who sleep in the snow and chew on ice? Is my mother's bedtime stories false?"
The laughter that erupted around the courtyard pleased Aegon.
It was then that Theon Greyjoy stepped forward, his swagger belying his slight frame. "Seems you're eager to test your mettle against cripples, Prince Aegon," Theon jeered, his voice cutting through the tense silence of the courtyard. "How about against the heir of the Iron Islands?"
Aegon's gaze shifted to Theon, assessing him with a hint of amusement. "Very well then, Greyjoy. Let's see what you're made of." You dare challenge the dragon.
Theon lunged forward, his movements swift and unpredictable. However, Aegon easily parried each blow with calculated ease. The courtyard echoed with the clash of steel as the two adversaries danced in a deadly ballet.
Despite Theon's determination, Aegon's skill proved superior. With a sudden feint, Aegon disarmed Theon and brought him to his knees. Theon yielded, breathing heavily as he stared up at the victorious prince.
But Aegon wasn't finished. In a swift and almost cruel twist of fate, he delivered a couple of sharp blows to Theon's side before stepping back, leaving Theon gasping on the ground, bruised and humiliated.
Robb Stark's jaw tightened further, his fists shaking with restrained fury. The Northern lords muttered amongst themselves, exchanging glances that spoke volumes of their disdain for the Targaryen prince's actions.
Aegon straightened, wiping sweat from his brow as he addressed Robb Stark once more. "Any other takers from the North, or shall we consider this a lesson learned?"
Robb clenched his uninjured fist, his gaze hardening as he stared down at the victorious Targaryen. But for now, the Stark heir remained silent, his eyes promising retribution.
Robb did not respond, helping Theon up and leaving the courtyard with his northerners. As if celebrating his triumph, Mystic came gliding into view. Courtiers hailed and raised their hands in the air as the dragon made rounds overhead roaring for all to hear, the sun rays gleaming Mystic's scales like a violet star.
"Aegon's dragon!"
"Mystic!"
"The dragon of the stars!"
There will be no supporters to back your claim upon your return, Maegor. These are my people, and the Iron Throne is mine.
The more the lords see Aegon putting the north – and through the north Jon himself – in their place, the easier it is for them to see that Aegon is most suited to rule them all.
Back in his chamber, Aegon admitted he was surprised to have lord Bolton as a visitor. Does he wish to curse my name to my person? I admit, the northern fools are as unruly as they are bold, Aegon thought as he nodded at Arthur to let Domeric Bolton step through.
"You may wait without, Arthur. As we have seen earlier in the courtyard I have no cause to be afraid to be alone with a northerner," Aegon quipped with a smile. Arthur dipped his head and did so.
Domeric had a little smile of his own as he sat. "Today's showing was a good method to display the might of your prowess, my prince. There is no uncertainty in my mind that Robb Stark feared to test his skills against yours – crippled or not. We of the north don't make justifications to not raise our blade against a challenge. Robb Stark shamed us all today."
Aegon couldn't help but chuckle. "Hearing those words about the heir of Winterfell from a northerner surprises me, my lord." Not only is it glorious but hilarious! And much more importantly – it is very true. That has been Aegon's intention – to discredit the north, Maegor's family, piece by piece.
"I am the one who is confident enough to say it. Just as I am confident enough to tell you this scheme that they've been concealing from you."
"Tell me of this scheme and you will be the first northerner to be in my gratitude." I can have my own spy among their ranks, Aegon thought with a ghostly smirk.
"The North dislikes the king and House Targaryen, my prince. The realm knows that. Lord Stark's vassals still grumble in their cups about King Rhaegar and House Stark themselves look upon you and your sister with envy." Domeric adjusted the edge of his pink cloak. "Here at Harrenhall, the northern lords along with the Starks have convened with Prince Jon to discuss the means of usurping your claim upon Rhaegar's death."
Jon
Lightning and thunder cracked with vengeance overhead. Heavy rain descended to the earth below. However, those that looked aloft were more terrified of the large silhouette that sneaked through the stormy clouds alike a phantom serpent. Thunder and lightning flashed the dark world blue, Mother Nature roaring. Cannibal, the embodiment of defiance of things natural, gave a sky-quaking roar.
For as long as Cannibal lived the world is his domain, for Cannibal is otherworldly. The sky thundered once more. In retribution, Cannibal spat out a green fireball, exploding amongst the dark clouds and devouring the world briefly in black and green. The lighting split the sky, illuminating the vast, powerful form of Cannibal, whose scales glistened with each flash of electric light.
Jon and Rhaegar were getting soaked to the bone. However, Jon was alive. Jon could feel the dragon's muscles rippling beneath him, a testament to its ancient strength. Behind him, Rhaegar had his head lowered to protect himself against the whipping wind and rain.
Storm's End should be near now, Jon thought.
Cannibal's ebony wings beat against the storm, propelling them forward with an unstoppable force. Jon's dark hair, soaked through with rain, clung to his face as he peered ahead, the mighty castle of Storm's End barely visible through the deluge.
It is time.
Jon tightened his connection with Cannibal through the warg, feeling the heat emanating from Cannibal's body. Subduing the Baratheon forces and making Renly kneel without bloodshed was a formidable one. Still, Jon knew it could be done. He can end the war before it begins and be hailed as the hero, which thrilled a part of Jon that persisted throughout the years.
As they approached the castle, the defenders on the walls spotted them. Panic spread like wildfire. Soldiers pointed and shouted, their cries drowned out by the thunder. The sight of the feral dragon approaching through the storm was a vision from nightmares, and fear gripped the hearts of the men who had sworn to defend Storm's End.
Cannibal let out a deafening roar, and Jon could feel the reverberations in his very bones. He signaled to Rhaegar, and they began their descent, circling the castle menacingly. Green flames flickered in Cannibal's throat, visible even in the torrential rain. The defenders tried to rally, but their efforts seemed futile against such a primal force.
Jon guided Cannibal lower, close enough that he could see the whites of the soldiers' eyes, filled with terror. He spied on some of them angling Ballistas.
Dracarys! Jon ordered through the bond.
Cannibal opened his massive jaws and released a torrent of flame, which licked at the battlements and scorched the Ballistas before they could harm. A few men with courage loosened arrows that merely bounced off ebony scales harder than steel. With one swipe of his spiked tail, all the bowmen were knocked off the battlements and were claimed by the raging waters below.
Jon stared as the men plummeted to their deaths and mentally said his prayers. A show of force had to be made. We are not here to parlay.
Then the sadistic glee from Cannibal through the bond ceased those feelings to almost nonexistent.
The rest of the men were sent fleeing in terror, scattering in different directions. Jon had Cannibal land in front of one soldier, crashing with a thud and abruptly stopping his retreat.
Jon looked down at the trembling soldier. "Inform Renly Baratheon that Rhaegar Targaryen is to receive him in the great hall at once!" He shouted over the howling wind. The soldier nodded fervently.
Jon and Rhaegar were escorted to the great hall. Their boots squeaked and left trails of water and mud. They were greeted with the sight of Renly in the high seat and his advisors. The hall was filled with murmurs of fear and awe as Rhaegar and Jon strolled forward, their presence commanding and regal. The lords and knights fell silent, their eyes fixed on them with fear.
Renly's expression was a mask of surprise and apprehension. He watched as Jon and Rhaegar approached, his fists clenched at the arms of his chair. The sight of Jon had his face turn visibly confused.
Rhaegar raised his hand, calling for silence. "Renly Baratheon," he began, his voice echoing through the hall. "We are here to unite the realm. The dragons have returned to House Targaryen, and with it my long-lost son!"
The courtiers inhaled and exclaimed in disbelief. It is a story to tell, a story indeed.
Renly's face scrunched up as he looked over Jon.
"….Bend the knee, and swear fealty to House Targaryen, and you will be spared. Resist, and you will face the consequences."
"How can my lord bend the knee to a house full of tyranny? His nephew and heir has been murdered by your own kingsguard!" The outrage came from Brianne of Tarth.
Her vehement response was shared by more than a few knights.
"Why should we bend the knee to you!"
"Fuck your son!"
"Justice for the young Baratheon!"
Idiots, don't they realize a dragon is outside this very castle ready to devour every soul inside?" Jon thought bemused.
Adding to his irritation, Renly seemed to be emboldened by the protest of his advisors. "Too long we have been battered by House Targaryen. You have killed my brother. You sent the other to freeze away at the wall. Now you killed my only heir!"
The great hall clamored. The knights thumped their fists on their shields. Jon can see a flash of annoyance on Rhaegar's face.
Time to be the villain yet again.
Jon stepped forward. "Aye, you don't have to kneel. We can settle this the old way – champion vs champion."
Immediately Brianne stepped forward. "Gladly!" Renly said, beyond pleased. He leaned forward in his seat eagerly. "My ever-loyal Brianne will be my champion. Who will be your champion?"
"My champion will be dragon fire, my lord."
Safe to say he did not like the old way of doing things, Jon thought as Cannibal climbed higher and higher in the stormy sky, Harrenhall their next destination. Renly was quick to kneel when his mind sharpened to the fact that Jon was not afraid to use Cannibal to curb resistance. Renly was quick to accept Mya being his heir to Storm's End and a couple of sons and daughters from his vassals will be royal hostages in Kingslanding.
And it will be safe to say that by the turn of the next moon, the whole realm will know his parentage and that he is The Rider. Very soon if not already, the whole world will know him as a prince of the Iron Throne.
It was later during that stormy night that Jon had them stop. Because it was pouring so heavily, Jon had to warg into Cannibal's eyes to spot a large cave nestled in the cliffs below, a perfect shelter for the night.
Cannibal descended gracefully, his immense wings stirring the misty air. The cave was vast, its entrance wide enough to accommodate the dragon. Inside, the cavern was dry and surprisingly warm, with a small stream trickling through one corner. Jon and Rhaegar dismounted.
Jon patted Cannibal's scaled neck. Cannibal twisted its long neck to look down on him. In those enormous serpent emerald eyes, full of heat and bloodlust, a shared portion of it was affection – an affection the wild dragon has for Jon and Jon only.
As if remembering Rhaegar was there, Cannibal snapped aggressively, plumes of green fire escaping his maw. It was when Rhaegar promptly backed away that Cannibal was content. With a flap of his wings, Cannibal flew in the air to hunt. He won't be back until much later in the night.
Later Jon and Rhaegar sat before a much-welcomed fire. Its flickering light casts a long shadow on the cave walls. They sat by the fire, the warmth a welcome respite from the damp chill outside. Their equal preference for brooding made it so that not a word was spoken for periods.
"The peace from this alone will be fragile," Rhaegar said. "To truly mend these wounds, betrothal matches must be had."
"You want to marry me off," Jon said in amusement, not taking his eyes off the flickering flames.
There was a pause. "I would arrange other betrothal matches, but yours will be the most important. I may have the crown, but the lords would look to you as the true power in the realm. You have brought dragons back to our House after decades of eggs turning to stone. You wear Valyrian steel armor, and you swing a Valyrian sword. Your marriage will single-handedly turn a new chapter for our House."
"Marriage," Jon muttered, tasting the word on his tongue. He then barked out a laugh. "You know that word has never crossed my mind when I was living a lie as a bastard." For most of his life at Winterfell, he thought he would be serving life at the Wall where he would have no wife or father no children. For most of the time in Essos, he spent more time looking over his shoulder for Faceless men than he did thinking about saying vows to a woman.
Rhaegar's lip grew taut at that. "I can imagine." But he dared not bring up Ned Stark again, likely not wanting another argument. "The faith does not like when a man has two wives. I can believe they can be pressured into allowing it for a dragon lord."
"Hmmm," was all Jon said. It is not as if I'm against the idea. But after all, I have gone through, all that I have done, it feels ridiculous for a man like me to settle down with one woman and have a family of my own. For a time, I thought my life would only consist of fighting and riding on Cannibal. But to be a father? Absurdly, Jon swallowed a lump. I would have to be a father. I would have to be a father after being raised by a man who falsely claimed to be my father. I would not be the best material.
Rhaegar was frowning at him. "I am trying to mend the realm and also reward you, my son. You would have two wives when great lords only have one. You will be recognized as Maegor Targaryen, the second of his name, and a prince of the Iron Throne. And I will give you Harrenhall as your seat."
He would give me Harrenhall?
At that, Jon raised his eyes to meet Rhaegar's, eyes so much like his own. "Harrenhall?" Jon asked, contemplating. A shiver of unknown emotion ran through him.
Rhaegar smiled warmly. Just for him. Jon blinked at that. "Yes, my son. Aegon the Conqueror burned Harrenhall to make a statement about the coming of the dragons. And you – the prince that traveled to Old Valyria to bring a dragon back to our House – will claim Harrenhall to make a statement about the return of the dragons. Harrenhall Is rebuilt to its formidable glory and a proper seat for a dragon lord. And I will make you Lord Paramount of the Riverlands."
That! I will not believe it. Jon narrowed his eyes. "You will give me lordship over the Riverlands just like that?" Does he know how much power he is giving to the second son? It is too generous.
Rhaegar nodded, overly serious. "I do not jest. As a scholar of war yourself you know the Riverlands is a strategic stronghold. Controlling it would give us a significant advantage in terms of logistics, military movements, and influence over the core of Westeros. We shall make betrothals, but if rebellion should take root again, you will be in the front to cease such a thing. Over the years, quarrels in those lands have endlessly plagued my reign. Hoster Tully had grown frail in his last years. Edmure Tully is too forgiving. You will be the perfect choice to install honor back in these lands and rule with a strong hand."
Jon smiled a little. "It is a very sweet offer, your grace. But under all of those layers, the real intention is to punish Lord Stark for what he has done. Stripping House Tully of paramountcy would effectively target not only Lady Catelyn, Lord Stark's wife but also their children – who all have blood ties to Tully. You will not directly target Lord Stark because I told you not to. However, this will be the closest you would get to please your pettiness while you tempt me with a doggy treat."
The flickering fire shone in Rhaegar's lilac eyes and made him look inhuman. "Am I wrong for this?"
"No, I don't think you are. You don't want House Targaryen to look more divided than it is now. All the great lords knew me to be protective of Lord Stark against any punishment you wish to befall him. If no penance comes, all the lords would think you are weak, and would rather come to the dragon rider for their problems or they would incite problems and think to get away with it because they have blood ties to the royal family somehow. Over time, essentially, the Iron Throne will lose credibility and become meaningless."
Jon stared at the flames burning away, a reflection of the war battling within himself. I will be massively impacting the outlook of House Tully, the Stark children's family on their mother's side. "So, no I don't think you are entirely wrong."
Jon felt….happy….shame….anger all at once. All those years he wanted Lord Stark to acknowledge him like a trueborn son, to openly shower him with love and pride like a true son. It never came. Whenever Lord Stark showed love it was in private, a pale imitation of what Jon's heart wanted. He would forever be in the shadow of the children who looked less like a Stark than he.
Now a stranger who was his real father is offering that in spades.
Jon thought of Catelyn and the disdain she gave him over the years. A guilty pleasure of his would accept this offer just to spite her to repay her coldness tenfold. You shunned me, a motherless bastard who just wanted the faintest touch of motherly love. Would I be in the wrong to yank the power from the House you dearly love?
Jon conjured the image of him wearing valyrian armor on top of Cannibal, the huge hulking Harrenhall to his back, watching as all the Riverlords pay tribute to him with House Tully in the fore.
It was so sweet Jon could taste it. Guiltily, he could not resist it wholly.
"I refuse." Jon looked deep into Rhaegar's eyes, seeing disappointment growing in those purple depths. "Because there is another option. I shall marry. Give me Harrenhall as my seat. And rather than make me lord paramount of the Riverlands, grant me the position of lord protector of the realm."
Give me what I desire without alienating my kin. For the love you held for my mother, grant me power over the realm.
Rhaegar contemplated him quietly. "That would give you much more power than simply being Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. It assigns you the power over all the Seven Kingdoms."
"Having Cannibal already does that, your grace," Jon said plainly. "Cannibal bestows me power over land and sea without His grace's will. If you announce me as Lord protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the realm will see it as the King's choice to help ensure prosperity with me enforcing your ruling. Most importantly it will show them that we are united." Jon couldn't say House Targaryen as that would make it all too real that he is one of them and not a Stark.
Rhaegar's purple eyes scanned his face, never missing a detail. A small smile appeared on his lips. "I humbly accept. I do not know a man more fitting of that title than you. The Gods have returned Lyanna's son to me. I would be a fool to ignore it."
There is that name again. Lyanna, my mother….A long withholding emotion rose up within the hardened warrior at the simple mention of his mother.
"What was my mother like?" Jon said quietly, very uncertain if Rhaegar would evade the question as Lord Stark was prone to do.
A very sad smile crossed the king's handsome face. Rhaegar stared into the flames for a moment, as if trying to summon the right words to paint a picture of a woman who had been lost to him for so long.
"Lyanna," Rhaegar said slowly, "was an extraordinary. She was spirited and strong-willed, with a fire inside her that matched her beauty. She was not content to just be a lady; she wanted to live, and experience the world on her terms."
Rhaegar's expression turned wistful. "It was at the tourney at Harrenhal. I was drawn to her from the moment I saw her. She was unlike any other lady there-daring, full of life. There was a wildness to her that called to me, a strength and independence that I admired."
"I loved her deeply. She understood me in ways that words cannot fully capture. She was my bright star in the darkness of my mind. But our love was also a source of great conflict and pain."
A conflict that doomed thousands.
"She believed in our love, in the future, we could have together. She was brave, Jon. She chose to defy expectations and follow her heart, even knowing the dangers. She believed that our love was worth any risk."
Jon stared into the fire, imagining the mother he had never known the woman who the king had loved so fiercely.
Rhaegar smiled with a bittersweet expression. "She loved riding her horse through the fields, feeling the wind in her hair. She had a passion for music, much like myself, and we would often sing together. She had a quick wit and a fierce sense of justice. Lyanna was happiest when she was free, able to be herself without constraints."
A silence fell between them, the weight of shared memories and lost time hanging in the air. Jon felt a deep connection to his mother, a longing to have known her, to have seen the world through her eyes.
"Thank you," Jon said softly and meant it.
His Reflexes had him flinch when the king placed a hand on his shoulder. Rhaegar was undeterred and his grip stayed firm. "You have her spirit, my son. Her strength and her honor. She would be incredibly proud of the man you've become."
Would she?
Jon felt a swell of emotion, a mixture of pride and sadness. "I wish I could have known her."
"She lives on in you, Jon. In your bravery, your sense of justice, your unyielding spirit. You are her legacy."
Jon only nodded, feeling incapable of words.
As the fire burned low and the stars began to peek through the cave's entrance, Jon and Rhaegar sat there, united by the memories of a woman who had changed their lives forever. The path to Harrenhal and beyond awaited them, but for now, they found solace in each other's company and the shared bond of their love for the beloved Lyanna Stark.
Suddenly, a loud rustling and a growl echoed from the cave entrance. Both men turned to see Cannibal, Jon's black dragon, returning from his hunt. The beast's green eyes glowed in the dim light, and hanging from his teeth was a severed arm, fresh and bloody.
Rhaegar was looking at Jon, but Jon could not say a word as Cannibal settled down outside the cave, gnawing on his grisly prize.
Soon they settled down for the night.
Jon was soon forced into his haunted dreams by the curtsy of the glass candles. In the darkness of his mind, he saw his mother, Lyanna Stark, her face a blur of longing and mystery. Her voice echoed faintly, whispering words he strained to hear, words that spoke of his heritage and the weight of his lineage. Jon reached out to her, desperate for answers, but she faded into the mist before him.
Next, his thoughts turned to Aegon, his half-brother. Their brotherly bond would never come to life because of jealousy and misunderstandings. Aegon's voice echoed in Jon's mind, accusing and bitter, a constant reminder of where they stand.
Then came the weight of his Targaryen heritage. Jon had always felt torn between his Stark upbringing and his Targaryen blood. Where does he truly belong?
You belong nowhere, The glass candles answered cruelly.
Lastly, he saw Catelyn Stark, her cold eyes forever holding disdain for him. Slowly her face melted away and became the face of Elia Martell.
The glass candles flickered.
Jon awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. DAMN! Jon thought in frustration, wary of the nightmares. Across from him, Rhaegar was awake, staring at him.
"It is time we left," Jon said before Rhaegar could question him.
And left they went, Cannibal zipping through the clear skies at impossible speeds. They had been flying for a handful of hours before the imposing towers of Harrenhall could be seen.
It is to be my new seat, Jon thought. My seat in the heart of the Riverlands. Huh, who would've thought Catelyn?
There was the ring of bells at the sight of Cannibal.
The skies above Harrenhall were clear as Cannibal, the mighty black dragon, descended gracefully into the courtyard. Jon and Rhaegar sat astride the dragon's back, their arrival heralded by the awe-filled gasps and murmurs of the assembled lords and ladies of Westeros. The courtyard was abuzz with anticipation, every eye fixed on the approaching dragon and its rider.
As Cannibal landed with a powerful yet controlled thud, Jon and Rhaegar dismounted, their presence commanding the attention of all. Jon's black cloak billowed in the wind, a backdrop of Harrenhal's towering walls.
Rhaegar raised his voice, addressing the gathered crowd. "Lords and ladies of Westeros, thank you for your patience. We have returned with news of great importance."
The murmuring ceased, and the crowd turned their full attention to the king and the dragon rider. Rhaegar gestured towards the Great Hall, his voice carrying authority and gravity. "Attend me in the Great Hall. There is much to discuss."
As the Kingsguard fell into formation around Jon, Rhaegar leaned over and whispered something in Arthur's ear. The Dayne nodded and retreated elsewhere. With measured steps, Jon and Rhaegar led the procession into the ancient seat of Harrenhall. The hall adorned with the banners of noble houses and the ancient sigil of House Targaryen, seemed to whisper with centuries of history and power.
Once inside, Rhaegar stood at the dais, his gaze sweeping over the assembled lords and ladies. "My lords, my ladies," he began, his voice resonating with authority, "I stand before you with a proclamation of great significance."
Rhaegar turned to him, who stood silent. "My son who has returned to me, my son by blood and honor, has proved himself worthy of a title befitting his lineage. Today, I declare him Lord of Harrenhall and Lord Protector of the Realm."
Gasps and whispers rippled through the hall, mingling with the sound of shifting chairs and rustling fabrics. Jon felt the weight of Rhaegar's words and the eyes of the realm upon him. Jon stared back at them all, his face a full façade of nonchalance.
Rhaegar continued, his voice steady. "In recognition of his courage, his leadership, and his commitment to justice, I bestow upon him the sword Blackfyre, a symbol of our House's strength and legacy. When many of us thought my son was a mere bastard of a great lord, he gave us this prized sword. Now that we know he is of dragon blood, it is only right to give it back to him - the prince that has brought us back dragons!"
Oh, was all could Jon think.
Arthur Dayne reappeared by the King's side holding a scabbard. With a flourish, Rhaegar drew the ancient Valyrian steel from its scabbard and held it aloft. The blade gleamed in the torchlight, its crimson ripples reflecting the fire's glow.
This is happening, Jon thought with amusement and knelt before the king. The king tapped both shoulders of Jon very carefully and cited knightly words. "Rise, my son," Rhaegar commanded, his voice echoing through the hall. "Take up your rightful seat and wield this blade with honor."
As Jon rose, Rhaegar embraced him briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. The room erupted into a mixture of applause and murmurs, some filled with awe and admiration, others with uncertainty and unease.
Among the crowd, Jon noted Oberyn Martell's gaze was sharp and calculating, his lips set in a thin line. Beside him, Elia Martell watched with him warily. Catelyn Stark stood with the Riverlords, her expression masked, but her eyes betraying anxiousness and worry.
Aegon Targaryen, Jon's half-brother, stood at the edge of the room, his purple eyes narrowed. This was nowhere near the acceptable behavior a brother ought to have for another brother's victory.
He is wroth over my achievements, my half-brother.
Jon held Aegon's gaze momentarily and gave him the barest of smirks.
Jon was silent as he gripped Blackfyre's hilt, feeling the weight of his new responsibilities settled upon his shoulders.
He raised Blackfyre in the air.
Cannibal's roar split the skies.
Arthur: There you have it! Which pairings would you like for Jon? What are you expecting with Jon back at Harrenhall? What do you want to see coming in future chapters? Let me know in the comments.