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Chapter Text

 283 AC

Promise me Ned. Promise me. His name. Promise me.

 A babe. His sister had a babe. She left Winterfell a maid and he’d found her dying in her birthing bed, leaving him with her babe, her son. Dark hair and gray eyes, all that remained of his sister and her mistakes. Why couldn’t she have just done her duty and married Robert? He himself had done it with Catelyn after Brandon’s death, so why couldn’t she? Staring at his dead sister and his nephew, he hardened himself to his sister’s memory. He’d do his duty by his blood, and raise him safe in Winterfell, but only until the boy was old enough to take his vows at the wall.

Leaving the babe with the wet nurse, with instructions to keep him quiet, Ned made his way back to the carnage outside of the tower and to tell Howland that Lyanna and her babe are dead. His bannerman is upset, thinking of the girl who defended him at Harrenhal, at that cursed tournament that had started the war. Reed swears to never repeat anything he has seen here in Dorne, out of respect for her memory and asks him to accompany the unconscious Sword of the Morning back to Starfall so as to break the news to him gently. Ned agrees, knowing it’s the only way to keep his nephew hidden from the only other man who knows the truth of his sister’s shame. He’ll claim him as his bastard, say he found him at a tavern near The Trident on his way back North. His sister had whored herself to freedom, so her son could bear her shame. Cat would be furious, but there was nothing else he could do. Fifteen years from that day, the boy would go to the wall.

Turning, Ned helped Howland load Arthur Dayne into a cart, the former kingsguard unconscious, pale from blood loss. The man known for his honor, found guarding his sister’s dishonor, not at the Trident with his prince. He deserved the pain Lyanna’s death would cause him. Too many people living for matters of the heart and not their duty. Rhaeger, Arthur, and Lyanna had condemned thousands as they followed their whims and their hearts. Robert would be a great king, the king the realms deserved. Better off without his sister at his side, Cersei would do her duty, and provide the kingdom with the queen and heirs it deserves. Watching the cart lumber down the road with the small crannogman at its reins, Ned sent one final curse to the man passed out in the back that he died from the wounds he'd aquired defending his sister.

Back in the tower, stinking of blood and roses, Ned gathered Lyanna’s trunk and clothes and readied them for transport back to Winterfell’s crypts. She would be buried with the proof of her shame and let it follow her as she was punished by the Old Gods. The Silent Sisters he’d sent for from a nearby village came to prepare her body for burial. Looking at the wet nurse and the babe, Ned decided something, 

“Jon, his name will be Jon”.

The nurse looked at him startled,  “But my lord, the lady wished his name to be…”

 “ I do not care what my whore of a sister wanted,” Ned snarled. “His mother is dead, his father is dead, I am the one stuck raising him and so I decide what his name will be”

She nodded silently, wrapped the boy tightly in a well stitched silver white blanket and walked him outside, not wanting the little one to see his mother’s body prepared. She made her way to the nearby storage building and began to hum the lullaby the lady had taught her as she sang it to the babe in her womb 

“Late at night when the moon is high

The Wolf will make its eerie cry

Echoes in the valleys deep

And the mountains that are steep

Then they travel far and wide

To find that soothing lullaby

They do not stop not once at all

Until they find that lovely song”

As he opened his eyes, and seeing that small hint of purple in the center of his gray irises, Wylla realized she would be the last person around who would tell this boy the story of his parents and their love. She vowed on their memories and the little boy in her arms that she would make sure he knew their names and story one day. Hearing Lord Stark calling for her to load in the wagon, Wylla looked down at the babe and repeated her vow, using his true name, to care and love him as if he were her own and make sure he knew how important he was.

Watching as the nurse with Jon climbed into the cart next to the trunk of his mother’s bones, Ned took one final look at the tower that had sheltered his foolish sister. That tower represented her broken vows and disloyalty to their family. She’d called it her tower of joy, but it ended up being her tomb. Ned quickly struck the flint to the torch that would turn her joy into ashes and erase the evidence of her mistakes from Westeros. With a smile, Eddard Stark tossed the torch in, watched as the flames grew, and turned towards the north, he was ready to see his wife, child, and keep, and to count down the days until his nephew took the black and he could put the final piece of his sister’s shame to rest.

Chapter Text

297 AC

The yard was loud with the clang of training swords. Jon was sparring with his half brother Robb and to anyone watching, it was clear who was the real talent with the sword. Jon Snow, while a few months younger than Robb, was taller by a few inches, with a lean body and well muscled arms from his dedication to training. Dark curls flew around his head, and his dark eyes watched for any weakness in Robb’s attack. Seeing an opening, Jon quickly swept his legs out from under him and pointed the tip of his sword an inch from his neck. Claps were heard around the yard, yet as Jon looked up into the furious eyes of his father and step-mother. He knew beating Robb so publicly would incur a punishment, but at fourteen, pride was more important than a beating or an aching stomach. 

Looking down again, he held out a hand to a grinning Robb, and helped him to his feet. Robb immediately clasped his arm and gave him a hardy hug.

“Well done Snow, you’d give Sir Arthur Dayne a fair fight!” 

Jon replied with a grin of his own, “ As if the Sword of the Morning would give a bastard the time of day. Besides he seems to enjoy Essos, over Westeros, so I doubt I’d have the opportunity to see.”

In the corner of his eye, Jon saw a rush of brown and grey and braced himself for the onslaught of Arya. 

“Jon, that was amazing! Where did you learn to fight like that? Can you teach me?”

Jon grinned at his favorite sibling “ Arya, slow down, we shall see, you’d need permission from Lord Stark. I can tell you, practise is the only way to become good at anything.”

“Jon Snow!” he heard from the side of the yard. Lady Stark was ready for the punishment to begin.

“Clean up this yard this instant and then report to the stable master for your chores for the day” she said with a scowl.

Arya quickly ran off to avoid her mother’s wrath and Jon started putting away the tourney swords. He felt the ice of his father’s glare on him and he knew chores and no dinner would not be the only punishment for him today. Lord Eddard Stark would not allow his bastard to beat his heir in public. Quickly, he finished cleaning up all the swords and ran off to the stables to begin mucking out the stalls. He heard his footsteps before he saw him and turned with his eyes downcast to await the blows. Yet he was shocked to only feel the sting of words.

“Who are you?”

“Jon Snow” he whispered, keeping his eyes on the ground.

“Who are you?” Lord Eddard asked again in a voice reminiscent of a blizzard.

“Jon Snow” he replied in a more even tone.

“Jon Snow. Snow. SNOW!” he yelled the last word.

“ You are a bastard. You are nothing. You are lower than nothing. How dare you think you can beat my heir. In front of all of Winterfell. Is it your goal to show our people that you’d be a better leader than your brother? Stronger than your brother? As long as you bear the name Snow, it won't matter if those were true, you’d still be nothing in their eyes.” 

Jon quickly looked up into the cold fury of his father’s eyes “no fath…” But before he could finish, he felt a hand in his jerkin shoving him into the back wall.

“Never call me father! You are the product of my biggest shame. I let you live here because you have my blood, but you will never call me father again. Your fourteenth name day is approaching, and I believe we shall send you to the wall a bit early. I’ll write to your Uncle Benjen and tell him to expect you one moon past that day. Perhaps you will find a place for you there.” With a galre, he let him go and turned on his heel and left to inform Catelyn and write the letter.

Jon stood there shocked. He knew the wall was where he was headed. Bastards had nothing for them in Westeros if they weren’t taken on as a squire or knighted. He thought he had more time. Time to make memories with Arya, Bran, Rickon, and Robb. Time to find someone to take him on as a squire. Time to show off his sword skills and perhaps be knighted. But now he had six weeks. Six weeks to come up with a plan or he’d be forced to sign away his life.

Turning back to his chores, he tried to think of some way to avoid the black. They said it was honorable to protect the world of men from the White Walkers and the Wildlings, but he knew it was all a load of shit. It was banishment. He may not have a name but he had a good mind, and he had the best sword skills of anyone at Winterfell. He needed to find a way.

Late that night, Jon trudged to his small room in the back of the keep, and saw a light burning. Opening the door he saw his old nurse Wylla sitting in the chair in the corner mending something, with a plate of bread and cheese and a horn of ale. 

“This isn’t your dinner is it?” he asked, before taking a bite at her shaking head.

The cook owed me a favor, I told her I’d missed lunch and was still hungry so she put it together for me. What happened this time Jon?” 

“Beat Robb in the yard, pretty handedly if I do say so myself, but I didn’t realize Lord Stark was watching."

She tittered and went back to mending his cloak

"That isn’t the worst of it. They are sending me to the wall early. Six weeks and I’ll be on my way.” He said hanging his head, all thoughts of food leaving him.

“What?!” Wylla exclaimed “ He can’t! He promised your mother he’d take care of you!” Her face blanched as she realized her slip up.

“You knew my mother?!” Jon eagerly asked. Nobody ever brought up his mother. He wished every night on the brightest star for his mother to come for him. To know the feel of a mother’s arms. Hear her words of love. 

“I did know her.” 

“Wait. Did? Is she dead? He asked slowly dreading her response, but knowing it true

“I’m sorry Jon, but she died birthing you. She loved you though. She held you, kissed you, named you, and put you in Lord Stark's arms before succumbing. She was one of the strongest women I knew and she would be proud of the man you are becoming” Wylla said as she put her arms around him feeling his shoulders shake with tears. “ Never doubt her love.” she whispered. 

He looked down at her and saw his pain reflected in her eyes, tears beginning to well, mirrired in his own. Looking quickly away she mumbled

“Finish your dinner and get some sleep, and we will figure out some way to get you out of going to the wall. I promise.” slipping out of his room to let him mourn and heading to her own down the hall.

And mourn he did. For the mother he would never know, and the father who hated him. For the siblings he’d lose when he went to the wall, and for the life he’d dreamed he could one day achieve.

Finally falling asleep, Jon let himself dream those dreams once more, this time with a small faceless woman telling him to stay strong, it would get better.

The next morning he awoke to another day in Winterfell. Lessons with Maester Luwin, chores around the keep, and sparring under Sir Rodrik, although this time he swallowed his pride and let Theon and Robb both beat him.

“Better to keep the peace for the rest of my time here, than risk being sent to the wall immediately.” he thought to himself.

Arya had just shot an arrow better than Bran when he heard the call for Lord Stark to handle a deserter of the Night's Watch.

“Have the lads saddle their horses, even Bran and Snow, we ride out in ten minutes.” so off he went to make sure his horse was ready. It was rare that he was allowed on such duties that normally fell to the Lord and his heir and he was eager to see what was so bad at Castle Black a man was willing to be executed to get away from it.

The beauty of the North never failed to render him speechless, and as they rode further Jon couldn't help but feel the sadness creeping in again, knowing his days of freedom were slowly running out. When they finally started to slow, Jon could see the deserter being led to the block that had been set up. He quickly dismounted and stood next to Bran, knowing the first execution could be difficult, and wanting to lend support to the younger boy. 

“Don’t look away, Lord Stark will know if you look away.” He advised him, seeing Ned give him a small nod at his advice and title before turning to the man and asking him if he had any last words. 

“I know I broke my oath, and I know I’m a deserter. I should have gone back to warn them. But I saw what I saw. I saw the White Walkers, people need to know. Get word to my family, tell them I’m no coward. Tell them I’m sorry.” 

With a look to Sir Rodrik, Lord Stark took Ice from his scabbard, announced his titles, and swung the sword taking the head in one fell swoop. Leaving some of the soldiers to clean up and burn the body, Jon and Robb rode together back through the Wolfswood.

 “What do you think he saw?” Robb asked and he honestly didn’t know. 

“Wildlings probably, but who can know with ramblings of a mad man. I guess I’ll find out more when it’s my turn to be the watch on the wall right?” 

Robb gave him a stern look. “You have plenty of time before that happens. If that happens. I’ve seen you fight and plan on keeping you around to watch my back Snow. Don’t forget it. His scowl quickly dissolved into a good natured grin and he rode off to tease Theon for looking greener than Bran when the head came off. Not hearing his whisper “I wish it would be so brother.”

Lost in his thoughts, Jon initially missed the shouts of excitement, but quickly rode forward to see what had been found. On the ground was the biggest wolf he’d ever seen, bigger than the horse he was riding. Dead from an antler to the throat, with five tiny pups attempting to suckle. Dismounting he walked forward with Bran to look at the tiny wolves

“What is it Father?” Bran asked and we all looked to him for our answer

“It’s a direwolf. The sigil of our house, found on this side of the wall for the first time in centuries. This is a sign from the old gods.” He said with a worried expression.

After quickly looking over the pups he decided to speak up. “Five pups for the five Stark children. Three males and Two females, they truly are from the old gods, a gift Lord Stark, to protect your family”

Ned looked to him with cautious eyes, before nodding. “Snow is right, this is a gift from the gods, quickly gather them up and we shall make for the keep, they are starving I’m sure. 

“What about you Snow?” he heard Theon ask snidely, seeing Lord Stark quickly turn to him for his answer. 

“I’m not a Stark. I’m nothing.” he replied solemnly and walked back to his horse. 

As he was about to mount up, he heard a woman’s voice in the wind whisper “Stop”. Looking around he saw a small patch of white fur peeking up from beside the tree. The runt, completely white save for his blood red eyes. A ghost hiding in the shadows. 

“Lord Stark, a sixth, for you my lord.” he quickly called to his father.

Walking over quickly, Ned took the pup from his arms and studied him. 

“This runt won't last week, if it makes it past today. Take him for yourself Snow, if you can keep him alive, He’s yours.” Handing the pup back to Jon, Ned walked back to his horse, swung up, and rode off in the direction of Winterfell. 

Looking down at the little white pup in his arms, Jon felt joy like he’d never felt before. Something for his own. Given to him by the Old Gods. Holding him close he whispered 

“Ghost”

Chapter Text

“The Red Keep is unusually quiet” those were the first thoughts Jaime had as he made his way to the great hall to break his fast.

Robert was out hunting in the Kingswood, Cersei probably fucking her latest paramour. And he was off duty for the day.

Life in the Kingsguard had been different for the fourteen years of Robert’s reign. Before with Aerys, things were constantly happening. The King's paranoia spawned secret meetings with his pyromancers, guarding Rhaegar’s young family, sparring with his fellow brothers, walking with Queen Rhaella and the young Viserys in the gardens, and exchanging suggestive letters with Cersei. That was his life as the youngest kingsguard and he enjoyed it.

But that had all changed the day of the sack.

Putting his sword through his king’s back to save thousands, and earning the name Kingslayer.

Being judged by the quiet wolf when he found him stunned on the Iron Throne. Watching Robert gloat over the dead bodies of Princess Elia and her children. Even Ned Stark had quietly smirked at the thought of the last Targaryens and the brutal way they had died. He found joy in the death of babes, yet judged him for saving the city from a fiery death.

Not that anyone knew the real reason he’d broken his vows. They’d already judged him without letting him say his story. So he kept his mouth shut and went back to his duties. Keeping secrets and guarding the supposed rightful rulers.

Even his relationship with Cersei changed. They both expressed a desire for each other but nothing had come of it beyond some stolen kisses, due to his duties as a squire and then knight, and her learning to be a lady and finding a good husband. Everything looked to change when she returned to King’s Landing and wanted him to take her maidenhead, before her wedding to Robert. Yet when the time finally came, she had wanted him to describe the slaying of Aerys, and to tell her about the raping of Elia and brutal stabbing of little Rhaenys and all Jaime could feel was revulsion for her. Who was this woman, his twin, his other half that she found so much delight, and even lust in the suffering of others; of children? He left the room that night, vowing to never again look to his sister with lust or love. He’d do his duty by his family, but not to Cersei.

So fourteen years went slowly by. He still sparred with the other kingsguard, although nothing could compare to Dayne or Whent of the past. He made time for Tyrion when he came to the city, and above all he guarded the King. Robert was easy compared to Aerys, spending much of his time with whores, drinking, or hunting. He’d also become the de facto guardian of the Prince and Princesses. Joffrey was a small stubborn boy, looking just like Cersei, and with a similar air of disdain for all not himself. But the younger twin princesses were bright rays of sunshine in the darkened keep. Cassana and Joanna were both beautiful and kind. Their favorite pastime when their uncle guarded them was to take small baskets of food and toys to a local orphanage to play with some of the children. Their names were lauded throughout Kings Landing for their good deeds, kind smiles, and happy dispositions.

While their looks were as opposite as they could be; Cassana favoring her Baratheon father and Joanna their Lannister mother; both girls were good and true in their hearts, despite the shortcomings of their parents. Jaime often wished for a change to succession, for either of the girls would have made an amazing Queen. Alas Joff was the heir and only time would tell if he would be a good king for Westeros.

On this particular day, Jaime found Tyrion in the great hall already eating and drinking.

“Good morning brother, how are you this fine morning?” Tyrion greeted as Jaime pulled up a chair.

“I’ve only just finished my shift, and yet I already long for the minute I can put the cloak back on. I’m not built for idol time brother.” He responded with a grimace. He’d spend every day guarding his nieces if it were allowed, but Barristan required all of the brothers to take a day off per week to rest.

“A tired mind leads to disaster” he would say whenever Jaime would beg to be back at his post.

Their relationship had been difficult since that day so many years ago when Jaime broke his vow, but with hard work and a dedication to his post, Jaime believed Barristan finally accepted that he had not made that decision lightly, and compared to the other knights of the brotherhood, Jaime was the truest. There to guard his family, not as a favor or bribe of the King.

“Have you heard of Lord Arryn?” Tyrion asked him suddenly. “He took ill in the night. The GrandMaester does not think he will survive the day. Life might become more interesting with our dear goodbrother, soon to appoint a new hand. Any ideas where he’ll turn?

Jaime thought for a moment. “North, he’ll go north and ask the brother he chose. Prepare Tyrion, winter is coming for the Red Keep.

“You know what they say, Starks melt below the Neck. You really think he’ll risk his own for our King?” Tyrion asked thoughtfully.

“Ned Stark spent eight years in the Eyrie and stayed as cold as ice. I’m sure he’ll bring a blizzard with him to King's Landing to stay cool.” Jaime quipped back to his brother. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Father wanted a word before he heads back to Casterly Rock”

Making his way to his father’s rooms, Jaime wondered what he would demand this time. Tywin Lannister would never call for you just to chat. Another half hearted attempt to convince him to abandon his white cloak and take his place at The Rock perhaps?

As easy as it would be to accept, he knew he couldn’t. He’d proved he was without honor once, even if it was the right thing to do, and he’d use the rest of his life to atone for it.

“Father. You summoned?” He said with the famous Lannister smirk as he walked into his father’s solar.

“Sit.” Was the only response he would receive, not even bothering to look up from the letter he was writing.

While waiting for his turn, Jaime looked around at the office Tywin had made for himself. Raven scrolls on the desk. A proud Lannister banner behind him. The perfect view over Blackwater Bay out the window. Not even the King’s solar boasted such luxury or view. Tywin truly thought himself the Lord of Westeros, if his solar was any indication.

“Jon Arryn is dead. Robert and the royal family are to travel North in a fortnight to ask the wolf to be his hand, and you will accompany him as my representative. Get a feel for the Stark heir as a potential husband for one of the twins. Too long has the North lacked a lion, and we are now in the perfect position to fix that mistake. Robert will finally be able to call Stark his brother, and we will have another kingdom in our pocket.” Tywin said while staring at him with cold green eyes.

“Robert is sure to suggest the match, but make sure it happens. And keep your sister in line. Do not let her embarrass us in her… endeavors… as she does here. Robert may be ignorant, but Ned Stark is not and he will not take such disrespect in his home.”

For once, Jaime felt like he could follow his Father’s commands. As much as he would miss the girls, he knew the North raised their men with honor and his niece could do worse for a husband. Having the opportunity to meet the boy, and understand his temperament would go a long way to assure his niece is happy and well taken care of. “It will be done Father, I’ll bring the North into the fold.”

“Spend time with Joffrey as well, spar, ride, take him on a hunt. It’s time he stops acting like a spoilt child, and more the Lannister he is. The realm will not suffer an idiot king.”

This was harder to agree to, but he understood why his father asked it of him. Cersei had raised Joffrey to act just like her, and if they did not take control, the history books would laud him as Joffrey the Milquetoast. Too busy clinging to his mother’s skirts, to rule his kingdom. Tywin would never allow a descendant of his to have such a reputation. “Yes Father, I’ll try.”

“Don’t try, do. You are a Lannister, regardless of that ridiculous cloak you refuse to let go of. It’s time you brought more to our family than the title Kingslayer. You will start with the North and when you return we will discuss what else you can do the further our power. Now go. Pack. Tell Tyrion he is going as well and to behave. I won’t have him waddling all over the kingdoms looking for whores and drink.”

And with that Tywin went back to his letter, not expecting even a goodbye. Jaime quickly walked to his chambers and had his servant start packing a trunk. As a representative of his father, he wouldn’t need his kingsguard armour for once, so he needed to make sure his Lannister armour was ready. Hearing the bells at The Sept of Baelor ring, he knew his father was r

Thirteen days later, the court gathered in front of the keep and prepared to set off. Jaime rode his horse close to the wheelhouse holding the royal children. He would spend the moon traveling, talking with the princesses and attempting to draw Joff out of his disdainful shell.

“What are you smirking about?” He heard the Queen ask with a cold look.

“Nothing sweet sister, just enjoying the change of scenery. Are you not excited for this little adventure?”

Cersei rolled her eyes and quickly hid herself back inside the wheelhouse, without even bothering to answer, and that was fine with Jaime

If he were being honest, Jaime had an odd feeling about this trip. He’d never been North. He was excited to see more of the kingdom and to see the dour northerners in their element. And something in his soul said this trip would bring changes to his life, and although he knew not what it was, he was ready to embrace it with both arms.

Chapter Text

Finally telling Jon something about his mother had lifted a weight from her shoulders, only to feel it double with the prospect of him leaving in a few moons.

When she had initially arrived at Winterfell, Lord Stark had made her swear an oath at the Weirwood that she would not reveal his true identity and she made the oath willingly, if it meant she could stay and keep him as safe as she could.

Jon had been such a good child, quiet and with a true thirst for learning. From the moment the maester had allowed him in lessons, he’d read every book, and learned much about the history and world of Westeros and beyond.

Jon’s kindness and obvious Stark looks, helped integrate himself with the servants and smallfolk that surrounded Winterfell. When Jon’s boots started falling apart from use and old age, Wylla made one comment to the laundry mistress, and the next day a new pair miraculously showed up in his bed chamber. They were lightly used, but they saved the boy from walking around barefoot during the time of summer snows. When Lord Stark withheld food, Cook always sent her extra to make sure he didn’t starve.

Maester Luwin was a kind man, not allowing Lord Stark’s bias to stop him from teaching his most promising pupil, and Jon thrived and quickly bypassed all of the other small boys learning in the room. And as he grew older, Sir Rodrik noticed his natural ability with the blade, and quickly and quietly took him under his tutelage. Whenever Lord Stark would ride out or remained stuck in the keep, the Master at arms would sneak away with the young boy to the godswood to practice and spar.

Seeing Jon with a sword in his hand, Wylla could only think of his father and how proud he would be of his son and the resemblance was uncanny. But it was when he rode a horse that the older people of Winterfell would make mention of his mother. He rode as if he was one with the animal. Like he could read their mind and they his. None had seen such a talented rider since Lyanna Stark had graced the halls of Winterfell. The comparisons quickly stopped however when Lord Stark heard.

She would remember that day until she drew her dying breath.

He’d been about eight namedays, and Jon had been so excited to ride with Robb and the others around Wintertown. An old baker had come out to offer them some treats when his wife saw him and Robb racing down the street, she said quietly to her husband,

“It’s like Lady Lyanna has come back from her grave.”

Lord Stark whipped his head around and coldly stared at the couple until they went back into the shop.

“Everyone. Back to Winterfell.” he barked before galloping away himself.

Wylla had been bringing in laundry when she saw Lord Stark leading the young boy to the Godswood and didn’t think much of it until a while later when another servant quietly whispered she should go to the small boys chambers.

What she found there brought tears to her eyes.

He was laying on his bed. Eyes closed as tears streamed down his face. When she looked to his back she saw long shallow cuts. He’d beaten the boy with a switch made from the weirwood.

“Why does he hate me?” was all she could make out from his sobs.

Wylla quickly rushed over and ran a hand through his curls in an effort to comfort him.

“It is because you are special, and he knows you are destined for great things. He wants to weaken you, make you hate yourself. He is afraid of what the future will bring for you versus your siblings.”

Hearing a knock at the door, she opened it to see Maester Luwin looking grim.

“I’ve brought supplies” was all he said as he came in and saw to the wounds. As he worked his frown grew deeper and at one point his eyes glazed over with tears. Composing himself he finished cleaning and bandaging the wounds, before giving him some bread and a small dose of milk of the poppy.

“That should help him rest until morning. See to it that the bandages are changed morning and night, to avoid infection and if you need anything, come directly to me.” the maester said as he made his way to the door.

Wylla followed him to the hallway, and with a look up and down the corridor she heard him quietly say

“His mother would kill him, if she were here.”

Locking eyes with the Maester, Wylla quickly whispered back

“His father would too.”

With a nod, Luwin walked down the corridor and Wylla went back to her sleeping charge.

They never spoke of it again, but from that day Wylla knew that if something ever happened to her, someone else knew and could tell him. How he knew she’d never guess, but that he knew and cared were the only things that mattered.

Jon never mentioned what happened, and the smallfolk of Winterfell made sure the resemblance would never again be mentioned in front of anyone named Stark.

Jon quickly realized he should downplay his abilities and intelligence. To stay quiet when around Lord Stark and those he knew would gladly tell on him for his accomplishments. He learned who his allies were and who had it out to get him, and he used that to make sure he never lost the opportunities to learn.

The smallfolk guarded him as if he was their own and he thanked them for it in any way he could. Helping out in the village, running errands for Cook and Luwin. Cleaning the tables or the forges. Helping the ill. He was loved by all but the ones who mattered.

Wylla had hoped with the births of his own children and time to recover from what he considered such a betrayal, Lord Stark would eventually soften towards his nephew and allow him to know who he was, but as the years had slowly gone by, if anything, his animosity had grown. Constantly putting him down in front of others and withholding food and better clothes.

Lady Stark simply ignored his existence. If he was in the room, she looked through him, if Wylla needed anything for him when he was younger, she would have her go to Maester Luwin with her lists. It’s like Jon was a ghost, quietly haunting her peaceful life.

Their children would all grow to love Jon.

Robb and he were thick as thieves when not around Lord or Lady Stark. He not only had a brother, he had a friend around the same age as him, that liked almost everything he did. When the Greyjoy boy came, things changed a bit, and while he and Jon would continue to practice swordplay, Robb found someone else who was interested in mischief and eventually the brothels. Jon swore from the day he realized what a bastard was, that he would never sire one himself, so no amount of pestering and persuasion could get him to join them for their nights of debauchery.

The girls both loved Jon in their own way. Arya found a kindred spirit, someone who looked like her and loved her for the wild wolf she was. And after he saved her from a runaway horse, Sansa saw him as one of the knights in her songs, strong quiet, and true.

The younger boys thought of him as a playmate, someone who never looked down on them for being younger and Bran and Jon had bonded over their mutual love of books and learning.

So the years had passed, and they were finally at that important crossroads. Jon needed to know who he was. Who his parents were, and what they believed was his destiny. She knew she couldn’t just tell him without being released from her oath. Perhaps she could appeal to Lord Stark, use the love he had once felt for his sister, to convince him to tell him. Wylla had made a promise that day, to her lady and to Jon, and she intended to keep that promise. Going to bed that night, Wylla decided on the words she would use to attempt to sway Eddard Stark

Two days after their conversation about his mother, Wylla decided after breakfast to go to Lord Stark’s solar to try and gain an audience. Standing outside the door she heard multiple excited voices.

“Jon Arryn is dead, and the King rides for Winterfell, my Lord” she heard Luwin say and she quietly gasped. “He means to ask you to be the next Hand of the King.”

“Oh Ned, do you think he will ask for Sansa’s hand for the Prince?” Catelyn asked excitedly, the thought of her daughter being queen bringing a breathy air to her voice

“Or wants one of the twins for Robb.” She heard Lord Stark respond. “We have a month, five weeks, at most to prepare. Cat, start making lists of stores we will need. Lots of wine, you know how Robert is. Luwin, have the butler come see me and we shall begin refurbishing the Royal rooms. You know if they are not good enough, the Queen will make it known to all.”

“Also lets make sure all of the children, including the bastard and the ward, are well versed in etiquette. We do not want to offend any of our southern guests with an inappropriate bow, or seat taken too quickly.” She heard Lady Stark say.

The King coming to Winterfell, would be exciting news throughout the keep and cause everyone to be very busy over the coming weeks.

Wylla thought to abandon her plan for the moment, thinking lord Stark would not appreciate her taking him from his tasks. Yet, if she didn’t ask now, what if she didn’t get another opportunity. When the king arrived, Ned would surely be busy entertaining the court and not have time to meet with her and after could be too late.

Waiting for Lady Stark and Maester Luwin to leave the solar, the latter giving her a raised eyebrow when he noticed her waiting, Wylla asked the guard that stepped out to ask his lord for an audience. When it was granted, she walked in to find the ice eyed wolf staring at her.

“In almost fourteen years, you have never once asked for an audience with me, what brings this on?” He asked with a sharpness to his tone.

Wylla gathered her courage and stared right back at him. “ Jon has told me of his punishment. I would ask you to reconsider. He is young and has so much potential. Let him go south or to Essos to find work as a hired sword. Please milord, do not let him waste his life away in that frozen hell…. She’d…. She’d never forgive you. We owe it to her memory. To make sure he is happy.”

Eyes like daggers stared back at her. Saying nothing for some time, before finally saying

“I owe her nothing. I raised him, fed him, clothed him, and educated him. What did you do for him? Outside of damn him for her sins. I do not need her forgiveness, nor do I want it. My word still stands. Jon will leave for the wall as soon as the royal visit is over” And with that he turned back to his desk and the papers upon it.

“I made a promise to her Lord Stark, and to him. I will not be an oathbreaker.” She said and in a whirl of skirts starting to leave the room only to hear him quietly say.

“You made a promise to me as well, Wylla, and to the old gods. Do not forget it.”

“That boy is like a son to me. I will do whatever it takes to see him safe and well.” She said and left the room with her head held high.

She continued to walk feeling herself start to shake as she made her way to her room. Lord Stark felt he could break his promise to his sister, well that would negate her oath to him. She’d tell him tonight, after dinner, and they could make their escape when the keep was asleep. They’d figure away to White Harbor and find a way to Essos.

Before going to her room to pack her meager belongings, she snuck down to the crypts to get the trunk full of important things she’d hidden in Lyanna’s statue. The marriage decree signed by the septon, the marriage cloak, the birth announcement they had so lovingly prepared, that had just needed his name, which she’d filled in herself and helped her lady sign before she died, and the white baby blanket Lyanna had made for her babe with his father’s house stitched on the corner.

Wylla spent the rest of the day making plans and gathering some supplies they would need on the way to White Harbor. Going to dinner she felt a level of excitement, thinking finally she could fulfill her promise. She ate, barely tasting her food, looking around for Jon to catch him after the meal. She caught Lord Stark’s eyes more than once as she looked around the dining hall, noticing he looked smug, yet not giving it really any thought so concerned was she to find her charge.

When the meal had finished, and she still did not see Jon, Wylla made her way to her room to wait until she heard him walking to his own. Feeling tired, she decided to sit in the chair by the fireplace. Closing her eyes, thoughts of the life Jon could have had with his parents played through her mind. Sparing with his father. Riding horses with his mother. Siblings with purple eyes. He would have been happy. He would have been loved.

Suddenly she felt the exhaustion quicken, her pulse slow, and her breathing become more labored.

Standing she felt dizziness take her and she stumbled to her bed.

“What is happening.” on repeat in her mind as she crashed to furs.

Hearing her door open quietly, she turned her eyes to the sound, and as the world went dark, the last thing she would see in this life were grey eyes made of ice.

Chapter Text

Five weeks later

The past moon had been one of the most difficult in his life. Wylla was gone. His nurse, mother in all but name and blood, had died suddenly in her sleep the day after he found Ghost. Maester Luwin, who seemed almost as sad as Jon, said her heart just stopped, that sometimes it happened, and at least she did not suffer.

Because they did not know of any other family and, it had seemed Jon was all she had, they had burned her body and Jon had taken the ashes and spread them around the Wolfswood on his name day. It seemed fitting that the day he met her, would also be the day that he said his final goodbye. Jon stayed in the woods until well past dusk, thinking of his happier memories with Wylla in his childhood. Her watching him as he learned to ride a horse. Sneaking him cakes on his name day when all the other adults ignored him. She stitched up his clothes when he tore his and Lord Stark refused to provide money for new ones.

Wylla had cared for him, when no one else would.He would miss her for the rest of his life, and think of her sweet smiles while he froze at the wall. For the wall was where he was headed after the King left Winterfell.

All of the castle had been on high alert in the last few days, knowing the caravan carrying the royal family and court could be sited any day. He and Robb had lead hunts in these very woods to prepare for the numerous feasts expected of the family hosting The King. Lord Stark had pulled him aside the week before, making it known his presence would not be required at the feasts and he expected him to stay out of sight as much as possible, which was fine by Jon. He had many things he needed to do to prepare for his journey to the wall, and with Wylla’s passing he had to pack away her room as well.

Sitting in the woods, Jon found himself ready to leave this place. Winterfell should have felt like a home, but as the years had gone by and he’d grown and realized what he was, it had become more of a prison. The one redeeming quality, besides Wylla, were his siblings. He would miss them all when he left, but it would probably be better, especially for the younger ones, not to see the anger and resentment their father held towards him. Robb and Sansa would remember him fondly and know the good in him, despite his status.

Suddenly a loud horn broke through his thoughts. The Royal family had been sited. They would be here within two days. He knew he should get back and help with all of the preparations, but after everything that had happened, Jon needed this time to himself. Time to remember the few good things in life and honor the woman who had raised him.

Finally hours after sunset, Jon decided to sneak back into the keep and hide in his room. Hopefully his absence would not have been noted in the chaos surrounding the preparations. Walking past Wylla’s room, he decided to duck in and say one final goodbye.
Being a servant, Wylla had not had a lot of personal effects. Some clothes, which Jon had given to Cook to distribute amongst the other servants who might need them. A small locket with the picture of a dark haired man was the only piece of jewelry. Jon assumed it was a member of her family and decided to take it with him to honor her memory. Besides a few sealed letters, which he had not felt comfortable opening, the only real thing of note was a small locked chest.

The chest itself was a dark purple, almost black, and was decorated with falling stars. He’d looked for a key, but hadn’t seen anything in the room so he assumed it was something she hadn’t wanted looked through and decided along with the locket, he would bring them with him to the wall to remember her.

Taking one final look around the room, Jon whispered “Goodbye, I’ll miss you always.” to the memory of his nurse and shut the door for the final time, carrying the trunk to his room.

Opening his door, he realized his room was not empty as he expected, but Robb was sitting on his bed with Ghost sitting next to him.

“You missed the summons.” he said with a grin. “Father was not happy, but I attempted to smooth it over by saying you were hunting far from the keep and might not have heard it. Better be on your best behavior during the visit.”

“When will the King grace us with his presence?” Jon asked him and he sat Wylla’s things down next to his own.

“Tomorrow morning. Whomever was on look out duty slipped a bit it would seem. Be in the courtyard an hour before noon, and make sure you are shaved and have hair cut. We wouldn’t want to offend the queen with our scruffy beard.” Robb laughed. He jumped up from the bed, and clapped Jon on the shoulder in goodbye and made his way out the door, turning just before to say, “happy fourteenth name day Brother” with a grin he closed the door.

Sighing, Jon made his way to where Robb had been sitting and scratched Ghost behind the ears. “Well the countdown begins boy. With the king arriving, our own adventure will begin soon enough” he said in a dejected voice. “Who knows though, maybe this will be something grand, maybe I’ll rise to Lord Commander.” Ghost gave him a little yip in agreement and hopped off the bed to cuddle into his bed in the corner. Jon readied himself for bed and soon found himself dreaming of a dragon made of stars with eyes the trinkled lilac surrounded by falling stars.

Morning soon arrived and after a visit to the groom to cut his hair and shave his beard, he put on his best clothes and gathered in the courtyard with the rest of Winterfell. Finding a place in between Ser Rodrik and Theon, he watched as everyone straightened up as the sounds of horses and carts approached. At the last minute Arya ran up and took her place next to Sansa, who rolled her eyes.

Through the gates rode the kingsguard surrounding a large man on a horse. Followed by the largest wheelhouse he’d ever seen with another kingsguard next to the door. As everyone settled and started to dismount, the large man swung down ungracefully and was steadied by a tall man in a white cloak. The crown of antlers marked him as King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name. Gone was the fabled “Demon of the Trident”, in his place a fat man, that as he drew closer to Lord Stark, smelled of stale wine, and old grease.

As the two men embraced like brothers, the rest of the court started to dismount and exit the various carriages. The kingsguard who had handed down the King, took off his helm to reveal Ser Barristan Selmy, the commander of the great order. Jon couldn’t help the small smile that formed when he saw the great knight, a hero of his, as he imagined the opportunity to spar with him while they were here.

Next to the wheelhouse, Jon noticed the knight who had been leading quickly moved to the door after taking off his helmet. The cropped golden hair and bright green eyes revealed it to be the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister. He readied himself to hand down his sister, the queen, and his two nieces, and while many in the yard scoffed at the disgraced knight, Jon had heard that he was an amazing fighter, having been trained by his idol Arthur Dayne. If the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard couldn’t take the time to spar with a bastard, maybe the Kingslayer could.

The twin princesses had finally emerged after their mother, and they were night and day in looks, yet both beautiful, Jon watched both Theon and Robb stand taller as they walked towards the group. As the royal ladies made their way to Lord and Lady Stark, Jon noticed the Crown Prince hanging behind. Joffrey was small and had a pinched face. He was followed closely by a giant man in a dog helmet, whom Jon assumed was Sandor Clegane, the hound. As a servant came to lead them to the prince's rooms, Joffrey looked around with disdain at the gathered northmen and women.

Lord Stark and the King had already left to go to the crypts and Lady Stark was leading the Queen and the Princesses to their rooms in the Royal wing, so Jon decided to help Hullen with the horses and carriages, to help alleviate some of the anger from remaining absent the night before. As he grabbed the bridle of Ser Jaime’s horse, the man himself walked over.

“Who are you boy?” Jaime asked him with a perplexed look on his face.

“Jon. Snow. Lord Stark’s natural born son. The Bastard of Winterfell, as I’m sure you’ve heard.” He responded with a bitter turn to his mouth. All he will ever be known as to any one of higher birth.

Ser Jaime continued to stare at him, almost like he’d seen a ghost. “I’ve heard the name yes, but you are not what I expected. How old are you?”

“I just celebrated my fourteenth name day Ser, yesterday in fact. Why do you ask?”

“You remind me of someone. Someone I knew long ago.You have similar eyes to his.” Ser Jaime responded with a faraway look in his eyes, before shaking himself and gesturing to his horse
“Leo here can be stubborn, I find that if you show him respect, you’ll get it back ten fold. Normally I stable him myself, but with everything going on in a new location, I’m needed at my post. If you have any questions or trouble come find me.” And with another probing look and a pat for the horse, the Kingslayer went to find his royal charges.

Jon was curious as to who he thought he reminded him of. Of all the children in Winterfell, Jon looked the most like the Starks of old besides Arya. The long face and dark hair that he kept shorter than most. Where he differed was in his build and eyes. Already at fourteen, he was almost Lord Stark’s height, and while most of the Starks were known for their stockier build, Jon was broad shouldered yet slim. His eyes were grey like the Starks but darker, almost black, with a small ring of violet next to the pupil.
He’d studied his face many times, trying to find the features of his mother, something to remind him that he was someone beyond Stark. Sometimes he even looked for his eyes in the faces of women around the North to find some resemblance, hoping to find some hint to who she was.

He knew many suspected his mother to be Lady Ashara of House Dayne. She was said to be tall, dark haired, with violet eyes, so it would explain the color to his eyes. Yet the rumors of her suicide around the time of his birth made him hope it was not her. He couldn't live with the thought of his birth driving anyone to take their own life in such a violent fashion let alone his mother.

Lost in his thoughts, he heard Ser Jaime’s horse knicker softly and he turned and looked him in the eye. Leo was a good name for the sand colored stallion with a dark gold mane. Almost like he’d been bred to resemble the lions of the house he served. He seemed to sense his temporary caregivers unease as he nudged him with his nose.

“Come along boy, we’ll get you settled with some hay and a clean stall, you’ve had a long moon haven’t you. Seeing more of Westeros than I could dream of.”

Jon led him to the stall next to his own horse, Winterstar, named for the white star on his forehead, the only color in his all black hide. Rubbing him down with a cool cloth and filling the trough with hay. Leo stood quietly and when he was finished, Jon fed him an apple in thanks for being patient with his distractions. Hearing Hullen call for his help with the prince’s horse, Jon gave him one final pat, gave Winterstar an apple as well to avoid jealousy and ran to help the stable master.

The rest of the day Jon helped around the stable and with Ser Rodrik in the training yard storing various armor. Lord Stark had stopped by around midday to say his presence would not be required at the welcome feast, so Jon took his time finishing his tasks and made his way to his room to change into his sparring clothes and head to the yard. As he made his way past the great hall, he could hear the lively sounds of music and laughter coming from the great hall.

Feeling angry and bitter about being left out, he went to the kitchen and grabbed a flagon of ale and some meat for him and Ghost and went to sit on a stomp next to the training dummy drinking more ale than he’s used to.

“You never stop eating, do you?” he asked the direwolf as he inhaled the chicken.

“Is this one of the direwolves I’ve heard so much about?” a voice from behind asks startling him. Seeing his Uncle Benjen, brought a smile to his face that only grew when he ruffled his hair.

“Yes. His name is Ghost. As you can see, it fits him.” Going up to hug him “I’ve missed you, Uncle. Although soon I’ll be seeing you so often you’ll grow tired of me as well.” he said with a slight frown

“We could use a man like you on the Wall, someday Jon, but the Wall is a hard place for a boy.”

“Tell that to Lord Stark. He’s to send me back with you once the King leaves.”

“I’m aware. It is one of the reasons I’ve come. To try and dissuade him. Fourteen is too young to swear away your life. I’ll do all I can to buy you some time, nephew. I promise.” He said before standing with a final grip on his nephew’s shoulder, and took his leave.

Jon stared at the doorway his uncle had disappeared through, before standing and facing the training dummy.

Taking a training sword in hand he began to hack away at the dummy when another voice rang out across the yard

“Boy”

Jon turned quickly to see Tyrion Lannister sitting like a gargoyle on the ledge above the door to the great hall.

“He is as drunk as I wish I could be.” Jon thought

The Imp was watching them with a curious look “Is that animal a wolf?”

“A direwolf. His name is Ghost. What are you doing up there? Why aren’t you at the feast?” Jon asked.

“I learned long ago that it’s considered rude to vomit on one’s brother. Might I have a closer look at your wolf?”

Hesitating a bit before he nodded, followed quickly by a gasp as Tyrion pushed himself off the ledge, and fell twelve feet to the ground to land roughly. Ghost flinched and backed away behind his legs as the imp stood and dusted himself off.

“I’ve frightened the beast. My apologies.”

“He’s not afraid.” Jon tried to defend, but was interrupted by the small man’s drunken cackle

“He is! I am terrifying! Look at me, I’m a monster.”

“He is not. You are not. Ghost, come here. Come on, boy.”

The pup came back around his front, keeping a wary eye on Tyrion. When Tyrion reached out to pet him, Ghost bared his fangs in a silent snarl.

“Sit, Ghost. Hold, be gentle with him” As he does, Jon turns to Tyrion. “You can touch him now. He won’t move. I’ve been training him.”

Tyrion knelt and ruffled the white fur between Ghost’s ears crooning “Nice wolf. Niiiiice wolf.”

“He’s not, you know. If I wasn’t here, he’d have your throat out.” Jon responds with a proud smirk

Tyrion cocked his head and looked Jon over, impressed by the boy’s bravado. He stood and took a long look at him. “I am Tyrion Lannister” holding out his hand.

“I know who you are.” Jon responded, shaking it in return.

“And I know who you are, you’re Ned Stark’s bastard, aren’t you?”

Jon pressed his lips together and said nothing, looking back towards the great hall.

“Did I offend you? Sorry. You are the bastard, though.”

“Lord Eddard Stark is my father.”

Tyrion stepped in closer and examined Jon’s face. “Yes... you have more of the north in you than your brothers. Except those eyes, those I imagine are from your mother.”

Jon tried to hide his pleasure at this observation. “Half brothers.”

Tyrion’s mouth was fixed in a sardonic grin, but his eyes burned with intensity as he spoke. “Let me give you some advice, bastard. Never forget what you are-- the rest of the world will not. Make it your strength, and it can never be your weakness. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.”

Jon looked at the Imp carefully before asking “What do you know about being a bastard?”

“All dwarfs are bastards in their father’s eyes.” and with that Tyrion sauntered back into the feast, whistling to himself. When he opened the door, the light from the hall threw his shadow clear across the yard.

Thinking on the truth of his words, Jon picked up the sword again and resumed his attack on the straw. Making sure he took the time to go through his forms and actually follow his teachings.

He was so focused on his movements he didn't hear the new person approach until he was right behind him.

“You are good. Almost too good for your age. Who’s been teaching you?”

Turning Jon found Jaime Lannister once again looking at him oddly.

“Ser Rodrik is the master-at-arms here at Winterfell. He has taught all of us since we were old enough to hold a blade. Sometimes he gives me extra lessons, says I have potential.” Jon responded nonchalantly. He knew he was better than most with a sword, but not enough for one of the best sword hands in the land to take notice.

“More than potential I’d wager. My brother mentioned you were out here with ale. If this
is how good you are with alcohol, I’m interested in seeing you sober. I have the morning off, why don't I test your skills?”

“But I’m a bastard Ser, why would you waste your time on me?” Jon asked with shock written clearly on his face

“Talent is talent regardless of what side of the sheets you were born on. I’m always looking for someone who can give me a good spar. Meet me here just after dawn and I’ll see what you’ve got.” And with a nod to him, Ser Jaime headed towards the royal chambers.

Jon couldn’t believe it. Sparring with a member of the Kingsguard trained by Arthur Dayne himself. In a daze he put away the training sword and walked back to his room. Not sure if the light feeling was from the amount of ale or the knowledge he’d finally get to spar without holding back.
Laying down on his bed staring up at the ceiling he thought about what tomorrow could bring. Perhaps he could impress one of the knights that had come with the court, and they’d take him on as a squire. Maybe he’d finally be free of the prison sentence he’d somehow acquired. Closing his eyes he drifted off to sleep, once again dreaming of the star dragon.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Daenerys I

Standing by the window, Daenerys couldn’t help but stare out at the bay of Pentos, where shirtless fishermen were hauling nets full of wriggling fish from their boats onto the docks. The setting sun silhouetted the brick towers of the Free City; covered in intricate and colorful geometric patterns that decorated the large domes. Daenerys couldn’t help but wish she was out there instead of in the rich mansion Illyrio owned. The freedom they possessed and the joy the women and children felt after seeing their fathers and husbands return from a long day on the water made her jealous of the affection and carefree attitude they came so naturally to them.

She was a princess and considered beautiful. Long silver hair that fell to the middle of her back, bright violet eyes, and most importantly the name Targaryen to tie it all together. She would trade it all away to find real love and a family, yet that was not meant to be. Just this week Viserys had informed her of the marriage he was planning for her with a Dothraki Khal. Dany had heard stories of the savageness of the Dothraki and feared what her future would be if Drogo accepted the betrothal.

So lost in her thoughts she failed to hear her brother approaching until she heard right outside her door “Where’s my sweet sister?”

A gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale purple eyes, walked into the room holding a lilac gown in his hands. Her brother Viserys, the last remaining dragon prince, walked up to her, the fever growing as he looked at her.

“A gift from Illyrio. Touch it. Go on. Feel the fabric.” He said with a hint of mania in his voice. As if the thought of them receiving gifts and expensive clothes excited him,

Dany let the delicate silk run through her fingers. It was a gorgeous gown, but the sight of it gave her no pleasure. All gifts came with a price and Dany didn’t feel as though this one was worth the price expected of her.

“Tonight you must look like a princess.” her brother continued as if he hadn’t noticed her trepidation with the gown.

“He gives us so much. We've been his guests for years and he’s never asked for anything. What does he expect for all of his generosity, brother?”

“Illyrio’s no fool. He knows I won’t forget my friends when I come into my throne, and he expects to be one. Do not worry sweet sister, I’ll handle Illyrio, you just focus on the Khal. I’ll send the slaves in to bathe you. Be sure you wash off the stink from your training with the knight, after today you shall no longer require sword lessons. Your husband shall protect you.”

She tries not to, but the thought of losing the one thing that made her feel like a person caused her to quietly scoff. Hearing her, Viserys stoped his walk to the door and studied her critically. “You still slouch.” He pushed her shoulders back. “Let them see you have a woman’s body now.” His fingers tighten on her shoulders “Don’t fail me tonight. You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?” His fingers tighten again and despite hurting her, Daenerys does not resist or open her mouth. “Do you?” he asks with even more of a snarl.

Dany quietly says “No” hoping to avoid any more confrontation.

“Good.” He smiles, releasing her, brushing back her hair with something like affection. “When they write the history of my reign, they will say it began tonight.” Turning he walked out the door looking for someone else to exude his supposed power over.

The rest of the evening was spent bathing and adding cosmetics to her already fair skin. The handmaidens had left her hair long and hanging down her back. The dress was a flowing yet fitted silk, slightly see through to give her prospective husband a view of what he was purchasing. They were now heading to the Dothraki encampment just outside of Pentos in litter being carried by a dozen strong men. Inside the curtains, Dany felt terribly nervous and only vaguely paid attention to Illyrio as they talked about the Khal.

The magister was tremendously fat, yet he carried himself with a certain elegance and grace. Noticing her nerves, smiled at her and took the girl’s hand to give her a comforting squeeze as he and Viserys discussed her.

“She is a vision, your Grace. Drogo will be impressed.”

“She’s too skinny. Are you sure he likes his women this young?” sneered her way

“She’s had her moonblood, so she's old enough and look at her! Fourteen, highest of the highborn, daughter of the past king, sister to the future king... he’ll want her, I can assure you.”

Viserys looked her over again, “I suppose. The savages have queer tastes. Boys, horses, sheep...”

He was quickly interrupted by Illyrio “Best not suggest this to Khal Drogo…”

“Do you take me for a fool? Viserys in turn interrupted.

Magister Illyrio gave a slight bow. “I take you for a king. Kings lack the caution of common men. My apologies if I have given offense.” He clapped his hands and a slave boy wearing a brass collar, crouched in the corner of the litter, hurried over to refill Illyrio’s wine glass.
“I know how to play a man like Drogo. I give him status,” he nodded at Dany, “and he gives me an army.” His fingers toyed with the hilt of his sheathed sword. “I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers behind me. The people will be with us. They cry out for their true king.” Viserys paused and gave Illyrio an anxious look. “They do, don’t they?

Illyrio smiled an easy smile, almost like placating a child “All across the Kingdoms, men lift secret toasts to your health. Their women sew dragon banners in hope of your return from across the water” before shrugging “Or so my agents tell me.”

Daenerys, who had watched Illyrio throughout his speech, turned away. She knew a lie when she saw one. She’d keep her own counsel, but it was clear the words that so inspired Viserys would not sway her to believe them.

The small folk of Westeros would not care for an absent dragon. They wished for food and coin for their families and no war to deprive them of either. As long as the king on the throne provided those, they’d not seek to disturb the peace. If there was anything The Fallen Star had taught her, it was how quickly things could change.

Her thoughts were soon interrupted by the litter stopping, and her eyes widened as she took in the environment around her as the slave boy handed her down. The first thing she saw was the great field outside the city walls of Pentos, ringed by hundreds of the distinctive, round Dothraki tents. The moon and burning torches helped to light the area so she could see the milling guests. Many are the Dothraki, big men, with their black hair oiled and braided and hung with silver bells. No women are present though which surprised her.

A smooth-cheeked man stood in front of them and announced the newcomers.

“Presenting Viserys of the House Targaryen, the Third of his Name. King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. His sister Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone. His honorable host, Illyrio Mopatis, Magister of the Free City of Pentos.”
The three honored guests walked into the clearing and Illyrio guided them, pointing out various luminaries. “Those three are Drogo’s bloodriders.”

The bloodriders, who appeared to be fearsome Dothraki warriors, stared at Daenerys as they walked by causing her to quickly avert her eyes.

“Over there is Ser Jorah Mormont.” Illyrio pointed to a man past forty and balding, yet still appeared strong and fit. When he saw the Targaryens staring at him he bowed deeply. Viserys seemed intrigued, his only interaction with a Westerosi Knight rarely ended well for him with Ser Arthur’s obvious loyalty to her. “A knight? What’s he doing here?” As Ser Jorah gave Viserys a slight nod, pleased by the reverences.
“King Robert… the Usurper” he quickly corrected himself, “wanted his head. Some trifling affront. Sold poachers to a slaver.”

“ He could be useful. Viserys said looking again at the knight with more interest.

While Viserys continued to look to the Westerosi, Illyrio placed his hand on Daenerys’ bare shoulder. “Over there, sweet princess. There is the Khal himself.”

Daenerys looked in the direction he had gestured and gasped when she saw him. Drogo was the tallest man in the courtyard, but despite his size and musculature, he had the grace of a panther. He wore his black hair woven into a single braid, hung with silver bells, that swung well below his belt.

As Illyrio walked over to Khal, she felt Viserys lean closer to her, never taking his eyes off Drogo. “You see how long his hair is? When Dothraki are defeated in combat, they cut off their braids in disgrace, so the world will know their shame. Khal Drogo has never been defeated. A savage, of course, but one of the finest killers alive. And you will be his queen.”

Daenerys stared at the Khal. The man’s face was hard and cruel, his eyes dark as onyx and calculating as he watched Illyrio perform his submissions. Suddenly his eyes met hers and Dany felt fear at the power she saw in those eyes.

“I don’t want to be his queen.” She said in a small thin voice. “Please, please, I don’t want to, I want to go home” She pleaded with him.

Viserys maintained his mask of politeness and kept his voice low, but there was fury behind his eyes. “Home? How do we go home? They took it from us.” He grabbed her arm and pushed her into the shadows, his fingernails dug into her arm again. “How do we go home?

Tears began to well in her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“I do. We go home with an army. With Khal Drogo’s army.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and spoke to her with real tenderness. “I’d let his whole khalasar fuck you, all forty thousand men and their horses too, if that’s what it took. Come, dry your eyes.”

Dany wiped away the unfallen tears as Illyrio, all smiles and bows, escorted Khal Drogo toward them.

“Smile.” Viserys commanded with a nervous lilt to his voice “and stand up straight let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, they’re small enough as is.”

Reminding herself that she is a Targaryan and the blood of the dragon she put a smile on her face and readied herself to meet the man who would be her husband.

“Khal Drogo, may I present Daenerys of House Targaryon. Daenerys, The Great Khal.” Illyrio introduced with another sweeping bow.

Drogo said nothing as he stared at her for what felt like minutes, before gracefully turning towards his bloodriders, swinging up on to his horse and with a warcry galloping out of the clearing.

“Where is he going?” Viserys cried as the rest of the Dothraki quickly rode away. “Did he like her? He didn’t say he liked her!”

“Believe me your grace, if he didn’t like her, you’d know. He has accepted our proposal, the wedding shall take place within a moon.” Illyrio said with a pleased smile and gestured to the litter to have it brought over. “Let us get you back to the manse my dear, you look cold.”

The rest of the ride back felt awkward and Dany was sure she was going into shock. As soon as they arrived back Dany excused herself to go back to her room. As soon as the door shut, the tears started as she ripped the beautiful dress from her body. No matter the gifts, nothing was worth being sold as a broodmare. She scrubbed at her face to remove the cosmetics and put on her sparring tunic and breeches and quietly snuck down the balcony to the training yard.

Finding the dummy and her small sword Ser Arthur had custom made to fit her small frame, she began to strike violently without any sign of the training The Fallen Star had given her over the years. Looking at the dummy all she could see were Illyrio and Viserys face. Taking out all the anger she felt for the two on the wooden statue filled with straw.

“You know if anyone knew I was responsible for your training, this little display would make me look incompetant.” A voice rang out from behind her.

Turning she saw the man she considered her father. Ser Arthur Dayne, once of her Father’s kingsguard, her brother's best friend, and the best swordsman in Westeros. The smile he had on his face quickly melted at the sign of the tried tear tracks on her face. “Dany, what is it? What has happened?”

Dany had felt the urge to keep her potential betrothal from the knight, in hopes of by not speaking of it, it wouldn't come true. And since Ser Arthur had his own home in Pentos he was not privy to the gossip and plans of her benefactor, but she knew she would have tto tell him eventually.

“Viserys has betrothed me to Khal Drogo.” Illyrio says we will wed within a moon.” she said with a frown and flung herself on the ground next to the dummy. “I’ll have no choice but to go through with it. If we backed out now, the Khal would raze the entire city, I cannot have the blood of innocents on my hands for my own selfish yearnings.”

Arthur looked at her with sadness in his dark eyes. For a man almost thirty-seven name days, he’d aged remarkably well considering the sadness that had besieged his final years in Westeros, yet right now she could see the years catching up with him. She could see the grey streaks in his dark hair, and lines maring his handsome face.
She knew he saw her as a daughter as much as she saw him as a father, and she hated that with her leaving he would lose yet another person he cared for. Yet if anyone knew of the consequences of upholding one's duty, it was Arthur Dayne.

He’d found them at the house with the red door in Bravos around her third name day and to this day, she remembered the broken man who’d been introduced to her. He’d sworn to do what he could for the siblings and when Ser Willem had died, he’d taken them in for a few years. Things had gone well until Viserys had refused to follow his guidance any longer and spirited them away in the night to be the king he thought he could be. Those years had been terrible and Dany slowly watched her brother descend into the "Begger King as he was called and the madness they said her father had became more pronounced.

Yet around her tenth name day, Arthur had found them again and brought them to Pentos and Illyrio. He’d been wary of the magister, but knew that if word got back to the Usurper of a Dayne shadowing the remaining Targaryens, Robert would send even more assassins. So he stayed in a house nearby and came to see Dany as often as he could, including training her in swordplay.

As they had grown closer last, he’d revealed his painful history and what led him to renounce his title of Sword of the Morning, and take on the mantle of The Fallen Star. She knew one day, he’d eventually have to return to Westeros and take up the title of Lord of Starfall. His brother, who currently held the title, had remained childless and was ill. Andric Dayne had negotiated with Jon Arryn to allow his brother to return with a pardon as long as he swore fealty to the crown. While Arthur hated the idea of bowing to the Usurper, he felt like he’d betrayed too many vows in his life to let his family down when they needed him to continue the family name. A Dayne had held Starfall since the time of the Kings of the Torrentine, ages before Aegon’s conquest, and he would not allow it to end now.

“Dany. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, had I known this is what they planned for you, I’d have spirited you away months ago. I still will if that is what you’d like. You can come back to Westeros with me, we’ll disguise you and keep you hidden at Starfall.” Arthur said, trying to make her feel better.

Dany knew what pain such an offer would bring the poor knight knowing his past, yet he was willing to dig up his pain for her, just proving how much he cared for her. And if he would be willing to make such a sacrifice for her, she knew she had to do her duty as well.

“Art, I’ll be okay, and who knows, maybe I will grow to love the Khal and being a Khalessi is like being a queen, so I’ll be upholding my birthright. Please do not worry for me, you have your own troubles to deal with soon enough.” she said as she got up and hugged the man who came to mean the world to her.

She knew he wasn’t convinced but he’d be strong for her, hugging her back with the strength she’d come to expect of him. “My offer will always stand Dany, if you need me, you find a way to Starfall and we will keep you safe, I swear. And until the time comes for you to leave, we will double your training to have you ready to face the unknowns of theDothraki Sea. Every morning before breakfast, I expect you here, understand?” he said with a small smile.

“I’ll be here Art” she said with a smile and turned to head to her room, looking back to see Arthur staring up at the stars like he was looking for someone, and she knew who he was thinking of and she felt her heart constrict in sadness. Someone so good did not deserve to have suffered so much.

Heading back to her room, Dany readied for bed while taking in her surroundings. As uncomfortable as she was living off Illyrio’s charity, she had come to love the little space she had carved out for herself in the manse. Knick knacks from various trips to the markets of Pentos littered the empty spaces around the room. Her favorite being a little wooden carved dragon and wolf that rested on her vanity. She’d seen them and thought they had belonged together. Books brought from the many visitors to the manse sat next to the armchair she liked to curl up and read in. She wondered what would happen to all the little things that had brought her joy over the years. She doubted she’d be able to bring them with her. Trinkets and the Dothraki didn’t exactly mesh well in thought.

With that sad thought and the chaotic events of the day exhaustion began to catch up with her and she crawled in her bed to finally get some sleep. Her dreams that night were filled with a wolf made of stars with one eye twinkling red and the other dark purple being guarded by a warrior with a bright sword. The wolf seemed to look into her soul, and she could swear even in her sleep, she heard it whisper her name.

“Dany”

Chapter Text

The North was nothing like Jaime had expected it to be. Sure it was cold, and barren. But it was also beautiful, with lush forests of needled trees, and some of the oldest castles found in Westeros. The people were colder than their weather, and Jaime himself seemed to be on the constant receiving end of their blizzard like attitude. 

If he wasn’t there to protect the man he thought of as a brother, Jaime was sure Lord Stark would have banned him from Winterfell. He’d glared at him as he dismounted and helped Joanna and Cassana out of the wheelhouse, and continued to toss him icy looks throughout the welcome party.

Sir Barristan had assigned him and Ser Arys permanently to the sides of the princesses for the entire trip, while Ser Boros alternated with the Hound to watch Joffrey’s back and the remaining four alternated between the King and Queen. Life as a kingsguard could be boring, yet Jaime was lucky to have a more personal connection to who he guarded day in and out. Selmy knew how much Jaime loved his nieces and they in turn adored him. 

They had spent the entire trip from the Capital, playing word games and commenting on the scenery. It was almost disappointing that now they would be stuck in the same area for such an extended period of time. As Princesses of the realm, they would be hosted by the Lady of Winterfell and her daughters, along with the Queen for tea and sewing and other womanly arts, so his time would be dedicated to guarding the door and them during feasts. 

Jaime also knew that Robert was looking to betrothe one of the twins to the heir of Winterfell. He’d not missed the boy’s appraising eyes as the girls walked by him to greet his parents. He’d also noticed the calculating look in the Greyjoy boy’s eye and made a note to keep a close eye on him the entire time they cohabited. 

It was while he was appraising the squid that he noticed Jon Snow for the first time. At first it was like looking at a young Ned Stark again, but the closer he looked at him the more he started to realize he reminded him of someone else. He was tall for his age, a few inches shy of his own height, and had the look of someone who regularly swung a sword. The dark hair and face of the Starks were clear, yet his features were less angular. The softness of childhood was already leaving and it’s place the seriousness of a man had begun to form.

He saw him start towards his horse to help bring him to the stable and took advantage of the fact to get a closer look at the boy. It was when he saw his eyes that he felt the feeling of familiarity explode. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, it wasn't until you really looked that you saw the ring of purple close to the pupil. He’d only seen one other with eyes like that, yet that wouldn’t explain why he was seeing them again in this boy. 

Shaking off his ghosts, he walked up to him and asked who he was. To hear he was Ned Stark’s bastard helped to shake off more of the lingering confusion. Yet to see the look in the boy’s eyes when he spoke of his father Jaime felt a bit of a chill that only grew when he looked up and saw Lord Stark glaring at the back of Jon’s head. Clearly the relationship between father and son was not one of harmony, especially after seeing how Ned had proudly introduced his heir. What about this boy brought out the coldness in Ned Stark. 

He seemed polite enough and quietly listened to his instructions regarding Leo, answering his questions with short easy answers. His obvious talent with horses was apparent when he watched him lead his normally stubborn stallion away like he was a young foal following his mother. Perhaps being stuck in Winterfell wouldn’t be so terrible, if he could unravel the mystery that was the Bastard of Winterfell. 

Leaving his musings to the yard, Jaime headed to the royal wing to check on the layout of the rooms and prepare an emergency evacuation plan for the meeting between his brothers. Finding the rooms to be small was a relief, less places for an assassin to hide. The servants entrances lead to one universal door so it would be easy to establish a guard to the door. All and all it would be easy to keep the royal family safe while here. 

The rest of the day passed quickly, as everyone settled in and before he knew it the feast for The King was going on its fourth hour. A musician was playing the harp at one end of the hall, but you one couldn’t hear him above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the sound of a hundred different conversations.

 The long wooden tables were covered with steaming platters of roasted meats and baked breads and behind the head table banners hung from the stone walls: the direwolf of House Stark; The King’s crowned stag; and for The Queen, the lion of Lannister. 

Seated at the table, on a raised platform, were Lord and Lady Stark, King Robert who was getting increasingly drunk, Queen Cersei, himself and Tyrion along with a few of the more important heads of Northern houses. The Stark and Baratheon children sit at a table directly below the guests of honor, with no sign of Jon Snow which he found curious. Bastard or no, he should have at least been at the welcome feast. 

Robert and Ned appeared to be competing as to who could toast more often with tankards full of ale. Jaime couldn’t help but notice the increasingly furious looks his sister was sending to her drunken husband, while the good hostess, Lady Stark had tried to distract her. 

“Your children are quite beautiful, my Queen.”

 Cersei, shocked at being spoken to so suddenly, turned to stare at Catelyn with calculating green eyes. “I heard a rumor we might share a grandchild someday. 

Lady Catelyn seemed to grow with pride, “I heard the same rumor” 

“Of course, these decisions ultimately fall to our husbands. As all important decisions must.” She glanced past Catelyn to Robert, as he gnawed on a chicken leg, and leered at the busty serving girl refilling his tankard. 

Only her eyes revealed her anger, and they only did so briefly, but to her brother, Jaime knew she was plotting in some way to get back at the pig of a king for embarrassing her in front of such important lords. As he was sitting on the other side of Cersei, he felt he should attempt to defuse the tense situation and leveled his most charming smile at their hostess, but it only seemed to make her nervous. 

“You’d enjoy the capital, my lady. The North must be hard for someone who wasn’t born here.”

 “I’m sure it seems very grim, after King’s Landing. I remember how scared I was when Ned brought me up here the first time.”

 Cersei finally dragged her eyes from the King,  “You were only a girl. I’m sure you were scared of many things.”

“Iwas, but as harsh as it is, I’ve come to love it. The north gets in your blood.”

Cersei seemed skeptical, looking around the rough-hewn Great Hall, which would fit in the kitchen of her own palace. “Your daughter will take to the city. Such a beauty can’t stay hidden up here forever. It’s time we introduce her to the court.”

If Lady Stark was offended she waved it away, “Of course, I do have two daughters.” 

Jaime would gladly wager that if Cersei knew this at one point, she had forgotten. But seeing the distressed look in Catelyn’s eyes they both followed her gaze to the children’s table, where Sansa looked as radiant as ever, chatting with the twin Princesses. They made a striking group, one golden head, one black as night, and one fiery red. The other Stark girl, Arya he thinks, had already ruined her evening dress. She was currently using her spoon as a catapult to fling a wad of pigeon pie at one of the younger boys, across the table. When it hit him square in the forehead, Jaime couldn’t help but chuckle, “The girl has talent.”

Catelyn, who was redding from embarrassment, began to stand so she could take matters in hand, but before she could Lord Stark, who was walking behind them, seemed to realize what was happening, leaned down and kissed the side of her neck. “I’ll take care of it.”

Cersei smiled at Catelyn as she resumed her seat, and to her credit, she had an excellent fake smile Jaime thought. The two women resumed their conversation. As Ned passed behind his seat, Jaime pushed his chair back, momentarily blocking Ned’s path. Standing and smiling down at the shorter man he couldn’t help but needle him “Excuse my clumsiness.” 

Sneering back at him, Ned shot back “Not a trait most people associate with you. Your pardon” He moved to step around him, but Jaime put his hand on his shoulder “I hear we might be neighbors soon. I hope it’s true.”

It was obvious Ned would rather talk to any living man besides himself “Yes, the King has honored me with his offer.” Again he tried to pass, and again Jaime sidestepped to block him. He knew he shouldn’t bait the future Hand, yet remembering the looks thrown towards his son that afternoon, he continued on. “The King has promised a tournament to celebrate your new title... if you accept. It would be good to have you on the field. The competition has become a bit stale.”

“I don’t fight in tournaments.”

“No? Getting a little old for it?”

The quiet wolf was disappearing and one reminiscent of the wild one was starting to emerge. He moved closer towards him and looked him dead in the eye. “I don’t fight in tournaments because if I ever have to fight a man for real, I don’t want him to know what I can do.”

Pleased to see he’d taken his bait, Jaime felt his smile grow larger “Well said, well said! I do hope you take the King’s offer. Though of course, we all know the court hasn’t been kind to Stark men.” 

Ned stiffened at his comment. Nobody wore swords at the banquet, but Jaime saw his hand reflexively grip for the absent hilt.

Knowing he should let him go and end this now, something drove him forward. A need to say this finally after fourteen years. “Your father and brother. Yes, I was a witness to that... tragedy.”

His eyes grew, if possible, icier “I know you were.” 

“I suppose it’s some consolation that justice finally came to their killer. No need to thank me-- oh, I’m sorry, you never did.”

 “Was it justice you were thinking of when you shoved your spear in the Mad King’s back?” Ned snarled in return.

“It was his entrails I was thinking of. His liver. His spleen. Was that terrible of me? After all the suffering the man caused?”

Ned had had enough. He pushed past Jaime aggressively and this time the Kingslayer let him go, but not before one final remark, this time no sign of the joke in his voice. “The worst king in a thousand years, and people treat me like some back-alley cutthroat.” But Ned had already gone, heading to the table that housed his children.

Jaime stood alone realizing the other Northern lords at the high table were staring at him with barely concealed anger. Ready to avenge their lord if need be. The only one at the table who’d overheard the conversation though was Tyrion, who was grinning at his brother and raised his tankard in toast. “If it came down to it, big brother, I’d bet on you, but I wouldn’t bet much.” He downed his tankard of ale with a single, heroic gulp and wiped the foam from his mouth, pleased with himself. But a second later it hit him and Jaime could see him turn a bit green. Tyrion stood quickly and staggered away from the royal table without a goodbye. 

Retaking his seat beside his sister, who was watching Tyrion stumble down the steps to the main floor, Jaime heard her mumble “He is a vile little beast.” 

Not wanting to deal with a sulking Cersei, he snapped back “He plays the hand he was dealt.” His gaze went over Cersei’s shoulder, to Robert and a newly returned Lord Stark. “As do we all.” 

By that point Tyrion had disappeared through the door that led from the Great Hall and Jaime realized he was now stuck here without anyone on his side. Jaime did his best to remain attentive to those around the King, happy when Barrisan gave him a nod indicating he could take a break from the table.

Heading towards the door, Jaime saw Tyrion walking back through with a rare true smile on his brother's face. 

“What has made you so happy, brother?” He asked him, glad to see him not sulking.

“A direwolf and a bastard boy, strangely enough. Have you met young Jon Snow? He’s special Jaime, I’m not sure what it is, but there is more potential in that boy's small finger than in the entire head of his trueborn brother. If his drunken sword skills are any indication, it’s not just his mind that is strong.”

Jaime was pleased to hear he wasn’t the only one who had been surprised by the boy. “I met him earlier and also found him intriguing. Leo took to him like nobody besides myself. I’ll have to see these sword skills myself at some point in this trip.”

“Well now is your chance if you aren’t busy. When I left him, he was starting back up against the dummy.” Tyrion said with the same small smile, before it transformed into one more lecherous. “I’m off to find the whorehouse. See if what they say about the Northern girls is true.” he said and off he went towards the exit of Winterfell. 

Curious to see what Tyrion meant about Jon, Jaime went towards the training yard and saw the boy going through forms in front of a training dummy. Moving as if the wooden sword was part of his arm. Fluid and swift he swung at the straw man, hitting it in all the places that would easily take it out if it were flesh and blood. His feet never stopped moving, his eyes never left his opponent, and while it was with an opponent that could fight back, Jaime wasn’t sure it could have if it tried. 

Shock and awe were the only things going through his head as he watched him continue to swing and move. This boy had the potential to be the best in Westeros, with the right teacher. 

He wondered why Lord Stark hadn’t tried to get the boy a squireship. Any knight in the south would have taken on someone so talented. He knew the North did not think much on knightships, but for a bastard that had little prospects, he had nothing to lose if someone took him on. 

Curious to hear who had been teaching him, he walked up carefully as to not startle him.

“You are good. Almost too good for your age. Who’s been teaching you?”

Jon turned to look at him, appearing shocked to find a highborn complimenting him.

“Ser Rodrik is the master-at-arms here at Winterfell. He has taught all of us since we were old enough to hold a blade. Sometimes he gives me extra lessons, says I have potential.” 

“More than potential I’d wager. My brother mentioned you were out here with ale. If this 

is how good you are with alcohol, I’m interested in seeing you sober. I have some time in the monring, why don't I test your skills?”

“But I’m a bastard Ser, why would you waste your time on me?” Jon asked the shock growing on his face

“Talent is talent regardless of what side of the sheets you were born on. I’m always looking for someone who can give me a good spar. Meet me here just after dawn and I’ll see what you’ve got.” Jaime said with a smile before turning back towards the royal quarters.  

Walking back through the wing, he heard giggles and loud grunts coming from the King’s chamber. “I guess he left the feast as well.” Jaime thought. 

He could hear the princesses in their rooms as well as Joffrey yelling at Clegane in his. The only member of the Royal family missing was the Queen, but Jaime expected that. Cersei would not allow the King’s shenanigans at dinner to go unpunished. She’d find her way into someone else’s bed this night, Jaime felt bad for Ser Mandon. He’d be the one subjected to guarding the Queen’s treasons.

Finding his own room, he was surprised to find Ser Barristan waiting for him. “I saw you speaking with Ned Stark’s bastard. Is there anything I need to be aware of. Do you worry if he needs to be watched or kept from the princesses?”

“Not at all. He’s a good boy. Quiet, I’d trust him with them before his brother or the Greyjoy boy, and something else. He’s different, Lord Commander. I cannot place what it is, even Tyrion commented on it. There is something about him, and Lord Stark clearly dislikes him, and I wonder at his life here. He also has talent with a blade, so I invited him to spar in the morning, you should join us and see for yourself.”

Selmy looked at him curiously, “I’ve never seen you take any interest in training or sparring with a child. He must have talent. I’ll be there to observe.” As he turned to leave, he looked back at him thoughtfully. “It’s nice to see you with some fire, Ser Jaime. Keep it burning.” and he continued out the door.

Thinking of his words as he prepared for bed, he realized he was right. His life since he’d killed the Mad King could only be described as mundane. The same thing day after day, night after night. Only joy he found was with members of his family. It was nice to feel like he was more than the Kingslayer, more than a man without honor. That night he went to sleep feeling better than he had since the day he was knighted.

The next morning, Jaime woke with the sun and dressed in his sparring clothes and went down to the yard. He was not surprised to find Jon already there and warming up. 

“Good morning Ser Jaime.” he greeted quietly and he swung a tourney sword around. “I took the liberty of pulling the best of the tourney swords for you to choose from. Sir Rodrik wont allow me to fight with live steel.”

“Tourney swords are fine, what I expected in fact.” Seeing movement in the corner of his eye, “I hope it’s okay, I invited Ser Barristan to observe.”

“Of course, good morning Lord Commander Selmy, I hope you are finding the hospitalities of Winterfell to your liking.” he said with a bow of his head to Barristan. 

“Very much Lord Snow, now let’s see these skills Ser Jamie and Lord Tyrion have been so enamoured with.”

“Of course Ser. Whenever you are ready Ser Jamie.” and he walked to the center of the training yard continuing to swing the sword around.

After picking out a decent blade Jamie met him in the middle and it began.

They touched swords, and Jon immediately went on the defense, which Jaime felt was sound, considering the muddy terrain, for being on the defense kept you in one place, and made the chances of slipping minimal. He countered with an aggressive attack which surprised him, but he defended well, quickly shifting out of his defensive pose and taking the attack himself, Jaime had to smile. 

“No one had taken the attack against him in so long and it was thrilling!” Jamie thought. He let Jon advance, let him build up courage, retreating gracefully and allowing his speed to keep him safe from harm. Seeing an opening, Jamie flicked his sword out and tapped his leg and he stumbled, but regained his balance, before moving away. 

Jaime was impressed with the quickness of the balance return. Most men of his size would have gone down or, at the least, fallen to one hand. Jon did neither; he simply quickstepped, wrenched his body erect, and continued fighting.

Jaime was slowly forcing him towards a group of large boulders next to the yard, for he was anxious to see how well he moved when quarters were close, when you could not thrust or parry with total freedom. He continued to force, and then the boulders were surrounding them.

Jon suddenly threw his body against a nearby rock, rebounded off it with stunning force, lunging with incredible speed, and caught Jaime on the hand. He had grazed him only, along the left wrist. A scratch was all. But it was bleeding. Realizing he was distracted, Jon hurried his retreat, getting his position away from the boulders, getting out into the open of the yard again. 

Jaime followed, only for Jon to launch his greatest assault. It came with no warning and the speed and strength of it were terrifying. His sword flashed in the light again and again, and at first, Jaime was only too happy to retreat. He was not entirely unfamiliar with the style of the attack; it was very similar to how Arthur Dayne had fought when he’d trained him, and he continued moving backward while he concentrated on Jon’s style, figuring the best way to stop the assault. 

Jon kept advancing, and Jaime was aware that behind him now he was coming closer and closer to those rocks again, knowing if he trapped him against them the match would be done. His only option was to fight back with all of his strength and hope to catch him off guard enough to get him on his back.

 Meeting him thrust for thrust, Jaime knew he had to be tiring, when he heard his breathing starting to pick up. Jaime himself was feeling the exertion of the intense fight and hoped he’d find an opening soon. Minutes later he saw his chance. Jon had dropped his elbow just enough that Jaime was able to get a tap against it causing his sword to falter and giving Jaime the opportunity to quickly disarm him, causing him to fall to his knee. Bringing his sword to the boys chest, he quietly demanded  “Yield” 

Jon immediately acquiesced and Jaime put his hand out to help him up.

“As I said, more than just potential. That is raw talent. Tell me, what are your plans for the future?”

The boy’s face fell instantly, any sign of the smile he’d carried throughout the fight, vanished instantly “I’m to head to the Wall as soon as the King leaves Winterfell, Lord Stark has commanded it.” He seemed to retreat further into himself. “I must do what my lord commands. Thank you for the spar Ser. Not many boys of fourteen can claim a fight with one of the greatest swordsmen in the realms. It’s a memory I will cherish.” And with a small bow to himself and a nod to Ser Barristan, Jon put his sword back with the others and hurried away towards the back entrance to the keep.

Jamie stood shocked. Staring after him. Only for Selmy to interrupt.

“I thought you were exaggerating, but he might be the most impressive fighter I’ve seen since, well, you. Lord Stark must be proud.”

“It would appear not. Stark’s sending him to the Wall. He just told me. Wasting that boy amongst thieves, murderers, and rapists.” Jamie spat out. His anger from last night grew again. Who was he to condemn another person to a miserable life. 

“Well perhaps we can help him. I could offer to take him on as a squire. Or you could.” Giving him a pointed look. “You have knowledge to give Ser Jamie, you could make that boy a legend.”

“I won’t saddle him with a Kingslayer for a mentor. He deserves better than that. You should make the offer though. He should have more than a cold bed and the Wall for the rest of his life.” and with a sad smile he walked away to change into his armor in order to relieve Ser Ayrs who was guarding the twins. 

He would have loved to offer him to be his squire. To help someone achieve greatness was something he had always wanted. To be remembered as someone more than just an oathbreaker, to have something to write about in the Book of Brothers. 

“He deserves a true knight to teach him, not an oathbreaker like me.” He thought sadly and made his way to the princesses’ rooms to escort them to breakfast.

Chapter Text

Court had been in Winterfell for a week now, and Ned was taking a moment to go over some papers in his solar, but he found his mind wondering. Having Robert in Winterfell reminded him so much of his fostering in the Vale. Drinking late into the night. Telling stories and jokes; though now Ned’s stories centered around his children and Winterfell, and Robert’s about the whore’s of Kings Landing. And there was the matter of Robert’s offer, his mind going back to the crypt the day the court arrived.

Ned held a lantern as he led Robert down the narrow, winding stone steps as he talked about the journey there.

“I thought we’d never get here. All the talk about my Seven Kingdoms, a man forgets your part is as big as the other six combined. And It snowed on us! Snow!” He said with the same excitement he’d expect from Bran.

 As they descended, their breath became more and more visible from the cold, and Robert’s became more and more labored. “How will you stand it, man, when winter finally comes? Your balls frozen right up into your guts for the next twenty, thirty years?”

 Ned couldn’t help but scoff at his crasness. “The Starks will endure. We always have.”

 “You need to come south, get a real taste of summer before it’s gone. Everyone is fat, drunk and rich. And the girls, Ned! Women lose all modesty in the heat. They swim naked in the river, right beneath the castle.” The king laughed happily, but his laughter trailed off as they reached the end of the staircase, looking for something in particular.

 Ned swept the lantern in a semicircle; shadows show along a procession of stone statues that seemed to fade into the dark. “She’s down at the end, your Grace.” 

 Side by side they walked, their footsteps rang off the stones as they walked among the dead of House Stark. Between pillars on either side of the granite sculptures of the deceased sitting on thrones, great stone direwolves curled around their feet.

 Ned stopped at the last tomb and lifted the lantern. The crypt continued on into the darkness ahead of them, but beyond that point the tombs were empty, waiting for him and his children. And in front of him, illuminated by the lantern, a beautiful young woman stares out at them with blind, granite eyes, his sister.

 Robert was staring at her and tears started to gather in his. “She was more beautiful than that.” Silently, Robert knelt down and bowed his head. Ned stood back and allowed him to grieve, when suddenly his voice rang out, hoarse “Did you have to bury her in a place like this? She should be on a hill somewhere, with the sun and the clouds above her.”

 “She was born a Stark”  Although he couldn’t help but think, "her foolishness had caused her to not die as one."  yet he had to maintain appearances, so he finished with. “This is her place.” 

The King rose to touch her cheek, his fingers brushed the rough stone, gently as if it were living flesh. “In my dreams, I kill him every night.”

“It’s done. The Targaryens are gone.” Ned said “And good riddance.”

  The warrior Robert used to be surfaced in his face, “Not all of them.”

 Ned looked at him confused. “Who do you mean? 

Robert’s face turned red with anger, and he spat “Viserys and Daenerys still skulk about Essos. I will find them, and I will kill them, Ned, and to do that I need your help.”

Knowing what was coming, Ned tried to move the conversation away. “We should return, your Grace. Your wife will be waiting.”

“To hell with my wife. He bellowed, and started back the way they’d come. “And if I hear “your Grace” one more time, I’ll have your fucking head on a spike. We’re more to each other than that.”

Trying to placate the raging monarch, he put a hand on his shoulder. “I haven’t forgotten. We were brothers. Tell me about old Jon." 

Mollified Robert stopped and shook his head sadly. “One moment he was fine, and... It burned right through him, whatever it was. I loved that man.”

 “We both did.” Ned said sadly.

“He never had to teach you much. But me? You remember me at sixteen? All I wanted to do was crack skulls and fuck girls. Old Jon showed me what was what.”

 Ned couldn’t help but give the king a sidelong, skeptical look, barely suppressing a smile.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not his fault I didn’t listen.”  He  said while putting a massive arm around Ned’s shoulder and walking on. “You must wonder why I’ve finally come North, after all these years.”

“Your inspection of the Wall is long overdue.” Ned responded, the smile now fully on his face.

“The Wall’s stood for eight thousand years. It can keep a while longer.” Robert stopped walking and turned to face him. “These are dangerous times. I need good men around me, men like Jon Arryn. Men like you. I want you down in King’s Landing, not up here where you’re no damn use to anybody.” His face suddenly grew so serious, Ned couldn’t remember a time he’d seen such a look on Robert’s face. “Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you Hand of the King.”

 Ned dropped to one knee, he was not at all surprised, yet had hoped to put this off longer. “I’m not worthy of the honor.”

“I’m not trying to honor you. I’m trying to get you to run my kingdom while I eat, drink and whore my way to an early grave. You know the saying” 

 “The King shits, and the Hand wipes.” Ned interrupts, familiar with the phrase and expectation of the job being offered him.

 Robert laughed and still on one knee, Ned can’t help but join him. “Damn it, Ned, stand up. You helped me win the Iron Throne, now help me keep the fucking thing. We were meant to rule together...If your sister had lived, we’d have been bound by blood. Well, it’s not too late. I have daughters, you have a son. One of my twins and your Robb, we’ll join our houses. My girl will be the future Lady of Winterfell.”

Ned was shocked by this. He’d known that Robert still loved his sister, but hadn’t thought he'd seek to continue the love through the current generation. After a moment he shook his head and smiled. “How long have you been planning this?

Robert smiled back. “How old are my daughters?”

 Both men laughed, before Robert’s face grew serious again. “I never loved my brothers. A sad thing for a man to admit, but it’s true. You were the brother I chose. We were meant to be family.”

 Ned could feel the sincerity behind the words. “I don’t know what to say.”

 “Say Yes”! Robert said enthused.

“If I could have some time to consider these honors?"

“Yes, of course, talk it over with Catelyn, sleep on it if you must.” He clapped his hands roughly on Ned’s shoulders. “Just don’t keep me waiting too long. I’m not the most patient man.” and turned to walk back up the stairs leading to the courtyard

 Ned smiled, but as he glanced over his shoulder at the statue of his sister, he swore he felt judgement coming from her stoney eyes, his smile fell off and he hurried after the king.

Sitting here now his thought came back to Lyanna’s judgemental eyes, and he felt rage boil inside of him. He’d still not been able to forgive her, fourteen years later. His angry thoughts of her and the damage her actions had brought not only him, but the realms, because his sister ran from her duties. He'd lost his father and brother, as had countless families across the kingdoms, and they lost their lives. He’d lost the opportunity to marry the woman he’d loved, and was forced to marry his brother’s betrothed. And while he’d come to love Cat over time and they had a solid relationship, he still dreamed of purple eyes at times. 

Purple eyes that he was constantly reminded of when he looked at Jon, another mistake of Lyanna’s he was forced to take responsibility for. The boy was still family, and he’d provided him with a place to live, and learn, and safety. Had Robert known who his parents were he’d have killed him in a jealous rage, so he’d taken the stain on his honor and his marriage.  

He’d tried to care for the boy, remember that it was not his fault his parents had forgotten their duties and helped facilitate a war between the kingdoms. But as he grew and the resemblance to his father started to show more and more, as well as his talent with horses coming through just like his sister, the wound he’d thought healed, began to fester again. He’d sworn the boy would amount to nothing that could compete with his children, even knowing the inheritance he could have down south would keep him from Winterfell, he’d wanted to bring him low. So to The Wall he would go.

The nurse had tried to interfere, and force him to reveal the truth. Calling on him to remember his promise. He’d kept his promise as far as he was concerned. The boy was alive, he was safe, and he would send him to the Wall with Benjen who would teach him and help him rise to a ranger. So he’d eliminated the only other person who could tell him who he was. Benjen still thought he was from Ashara and he’d told Howland that he was Brandon’s, found on a whore in Wintertown. 

A knock on the door drew him from his musings. “Come in” he said quickly moving away a bunch of papers to prepare for whomever wanted an audience 

Jory’s head came from behind the door, “Lord Commander Selmy to see you Lord Stark”

Shocked that Barristan the Bold wanted a private audience, Ned quickly stood and bid him enter. Barristan had always been a hero of his. Before the rebellion and Brandon’s death, his dream had been to go south and squire for him. Make a name for himself besides, The quiet wolf. “How can I help you today Lord Commander?” he asked, reaching across the desk to shake his hand.

“Good day Lord Stark. First, I’d like to thank you and your household guard for all you have done to secure the safety of the Royal family. Most times, the kingsguard has to exhaust itself with extra shifts to assure their wellbeing, yet here we have felt secure enough to allow for a normal schedule. So thank you my lord.”

“Robert is like a brother to me Ser, so it has been my pleasure to make sure he and his family are safe. No thanks is required, but I appreciate your acknowledgement and I will pass it along to the head of my guard.”

“Please do Lord Stark.” He said while taking a seat on the other side of the desk. “My other reason for my visit today is to discuss Jon Snow.”

Ned sat back in shock. “What has the bastard done to offend you Ser? I’ll make sure he is punished accordingly.” He assured quickly, his anger rising, thinking he might have jeopardized the visit. 

Barristan seemed shocked at his quick anger. “He has done nothing, Lord Stark, the opposite in fact. I have been watching his training since his spar with Ser Jaime and I am impressed with his skills. He shows true talent with the sword and horsemen skills. I would like to offer to take on his squireship. I’d see him knighted in a few years. He’d bring honor to your name quickly I’m sure.”

Ned couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What spar with Jaime Lannister. I was not aware the Kingslayer had interacted with the boy?”

“They fought the morning after the welcome feast at dawn.” Selmy responded with a fond smile appearing on his face. “It was an impressive display. Jaime took the win, but not without Jon drawing first blood. Your son is talented, Lord Stark. He could have my job one day if he continues to train like he is.”

Ned was seeing red. He’d told the boy to stay out of the way. To not be seen. Yet now he was being offered what Ned himself had wanted.  Not to mention if he went to King's Landing, people would see him, in places his father had been and people would start asking questions. He had to make sure that did not happen. “As honored as I am by your offer Ser, I must respectfully decline on Jon’s behalf. His dream is to follow his uncle to the wall, and he is to head that way in a few day’s time. I’d not take away what he has yearned for since childhood for all the glories in the kingdoms.”

Ser Barristan seemed to stare right through him with cold blue eyes, but then sighed. “It is a waste for him to be sent amongst the scum at Castle Black. But if that is what HE wants.” Ned could not help but notice the emphasis on the he. “I’ll accept Lord Stark, but please let him know of my offer,before he leaves.”  And with that he stood and left the solar without so much as a backwards glance. 

The boiling rage was back. Ned should have sent him to the wall before the King had arrived. He’d known he could present problems, yet he thought it’d be in the form of his resemblance to his sire, not drawing the attention of the greatest knight in the kingdom. Well he’d rectify that today. He’d have Benjen take the boy away under the cover of that very night.  

Just as he was about to send someone to find the boy so he could inform him of his imminent departure, there was once again a knock and Jory opened up the door. “The King’s page has just come to leave a message for you my Lord. He’s forming up a hunt for this afternoon and requests you join him.”

“It will be so, gather the boys and have them prepare the horses and hounds. Oh and Jory, send for Jon Snow, I’d speak to him before we leave.”

“He is actually already off in the Wolfswood My Lord. The Queen has demanded rabbit at tonight’s feast, so Lady Catelyn sent him off to hunt enough.” 

“Well make sure a note is left in his chambers to find me as soon as we return from the King’s hunt. Thank you Jory, I’ll see you in the yard in a few moments.”

Turning back to face the window in his solar, Ned suddenly felt a weight start to lift from his shoulders. After tonight he’d never have to see the boy’s face again. He’d finally be free from his sister’s shameful legacy. He felt a smile slowly grow on his face. He’d finally get some revenge on his sister for ruining his life, by ruining her son’s, and with one final look through the window, he walked out to the yard to hunt with his best friend.

Chapter Text

The week in Winterfell had been easy for the Kingsguard. Lord Stark had added extra men to his household guard so the Lord Commander had felt they did not need to double up their shifts. That is until the King had decided he needed to hunt boar with his son in the Wolfswood. Ser Mandon had taken ill in the night, so he’d been assigned to help watch over Joffrey, while Barristan and Borris would stay next to the King.

Barristan was currently meeting with Lord Stark to discuss Jon Snow, and Jaime was eager to hear of the results. Stark would surely not turn down The Bold’s offer, and while Jaime wouldn’t be the one he answered to, as a squire to a Kingsguard, he’d have daily interactions with the rest of the brotherhood, so from time to time, Jaime would get to spar with him as well.

Standing next to the King, Jaime saw Lord Stark exit the keep and head their way as they stood near the main gate, the King’s hunting party was almost ready to leave, just waiting on their host and Barristan. Hullen the horse master was checking all of the saddles; while other members of the stables sharpened spears and readied the hounds. Jaime saw Stark’s head of the guard standing with Theon Greyjoy, the master-at-arms Ser Rodrik, Benjen Stark and strangely Tyrion. His brother looked badly hung-over, like day-old death, as he turned to Benjen saying “If I get through this without squirting from one end or the other, it’ll be a miracle.” to which the black brother laughed loudly causing him to wince.

As he walked deeper into the courtyard, and closer to them, Stark seemed preoccupied as he strapped on his armour. Robert seemed to miss the pensive look on his face, as he stepped up next to him and gave him a friendly shake of the shoulders. “Are you as good with a spear as you used to be?”

Ned smiled at the king. “No. But I’m still better than you.”

Robert laughed, as one of the king’s squires knelt beside Robert and began lacing padded half-greaves onto the king’s legs “Have you an answer to my offer?” He asked so quietly, Jaime had to lean a bit closer to hear. All he saw from Stark was a slight nod with a smile and Robert was grabbing him by the shoulders in a hug. “I know how much you love it up here. Coming south with me, serving as my Hand. I know it’s not what you wanted. You’re a loyal friend. You hear me? A loyal friend. The last one I’ve got.” Ned smiled back at the king and as the two men clasped hands, Jaime thought of how you couldn't deny the obvious bond between the men.

“I hope I’ll serve you well.” Stark responded

The King chuckled “You will. And I’ll make sure you don’t look so fucking grim all the time.” Ned smiled and looked at the hunting party particularly towards his heir who was walking towards the group with Greyjoy. “I hear the southern boars are twice as nasty as the ones up here.”
“Oh, you won’t have time for hunting. You’ll be too busy wrangling the snakes that call themselves my court.” The king laughed, as he threw his heavy arm across Ned’s shoulders again and led him towards their horses.

Jaime made to follow him, when he saw Ser. Barristan headed his way and beckoned him towards a quiet corner of the yard. Both knights kept their eyes on their royal charges.”How’d it go, did he accept your offer?” Jaime asked excitedly.

“He did not. Claimed Snow’s dream is to go to the wall with his Uncle. Wants to be a ranger supposedly.” Barristan said with a hint of disgust in his voice. “I don’t believe it, which is why I’m going to talk to the boy directly. Find out if it's really what he wants. I went and looked for him after my talk with Lord Stark, but they said he was already out hunting in the woods and would be back before dinner. So I’ll find him tomorrow early in the yard as usual.”

“Why would Stark lie about him? For someone they claim is so honorable, everytime I have seen him interact with the boy, I see nothing but ice in eyes. And now trying to keep him from the best opportunity any young boy could ask for, something seems wrong Lord Commander.”

“I know Ser Jaime, but he is still the Lord, and the boy his bastard. We need to tread carefully. I’ll mention to the King tonight the potential I’ve seen in the boy, perhaps he will take an interest as well. But now, our duty is to keep watch after the King and the Prince. Stay focused on this task and we will worry about young Snow in the morning.” And with that, Barristan turned towards his horse next to the Kings and mounted up.

Jaime knew he was right, but still couldn’t help but stare down Lord Stark as he mounted up. The men made eye contact and Jaime swore he saw a greedy smirk start to form, before he looked away and back towards his king.

Jaime made his way towards Leo as he saw Joffrey and the Hound appear next to their horses.

“Why am I here Uncle, Father cares not for me, especially with his lapdog following him around. I’d much prefer to stay here in the keep.” Joffrey whined as he mounted his horse.

“Your lord father has commanded you to go on the hunt, you’ll go on the hunt my prince. He wants the northern men to see his heir is capable of keeping up with their hunting style. It won’t be so bad. From what I know of Northern hunts they rarely last longer than a few hours, and most of the time is spent drinking ale. We will be back before you know it.”

Turning Leo towards Winterfell’s entrance, he waited for Joffrey and the Hound to make their way out before taking up his post on the other side. Jaime wasn’t really worried about an attack surrounded by this many members of court and the loyal Stark men, so he let his mind wander a bit and took in the scenery of the Wolfswood. The trees were tall and thick, full of needles and sap covered trunks. He could hear birds and the sounds of animals moving through the light snow covered grounds. The Hound and Joffrey were complaining about the cold air and the brusqueness of their Northern hosts, so he tuned them out and thought of Jon Snow. He reminded him a lot of Tyrion. Not in looks or sword skills, but in so much potential being thrown away by his father. He thought back on the look on Lord Stark’s face when he and Barristan were talking. Almost like he knew what they were discussing and took joy in hurting Jon.

As they headed out to hunt near the river, his internal musings were interrupted as a creeping feeling went down his spine, and he felt the need for a larger weapon, but he only had his sword. They were about half a mile from the water when he saw fresh wolf tracks in the snow. Large wolf prints almost like one of the direwolf pups had been around, but Jaime knew Robb had left his back at the keep. As they kept riding, Jaime looked through an opening in the wood and saw some crows were scavenging on a dead animal. The creeping feeling increased tenfold and he slowly drew his sword from his scabbard thinking they might come upon a wolf eating the carcass, but that's when he heard this low grunting sound. A large spruce was blocking his view of the clearing, so he couldn’t see what was making it, until he heard Robb Stark yell, “Bear!”

The bear was charging straight for Joff, who was a bit in front of him, so fast he had no time to lift his sword. He was preparing for the first swipe of the massive claws against his nephew, when he saw a blur of white run in front of him followed by black hair.

Out of nowhere, Jon Snow had leapt in front of Joffrey’s horse and threw up a rusty sword to block the bear's paw. He parried quickly and attempted to strike again, but the bear rose to two feet and batted the sword away like it was a twig.

The sword flew a few feet away and Jaime could see the look of panic in Jon’s dark eyes, as he darted back to avoid the bear's claws. Roaring loudly, the bear went to swipe again at the boy, but Ghost jumped to his master's aid and was able to get his teeth around the bear’s outstretched arm. Jon was scrambling back to his sword, when the bear was finally able to shake off the direwolf pup and look to those gathered around it.

Joffrey’s horse panicked and attempted to throw the prince off multiple times before it finally succeeded and galloped away from the monstrous beast. With Joff’s fall, he once again found himself the focus of the bear and he seemed to freeze in anticipation of the large paw with deadly claws, when the bear was once again thwarted by Jon Snow. The boy had his sword back, but even Jaime could see that, with so old a blade, without help he’d be little more than a distraction.

Jon looked his way and yelled at him “Get the Prince out of here. Get him to safety now!” and it spurred Jaime into action. He ran forward and grabbed Joffrey by the arm, hauled him over his shoulders and ran up to Leo throwing him up in the saddle and striking him across the flank to spur him on further away from the bear. He heard the direwolf growling again, but before he could turn back, he heard a yelp and a pained grunt, followed by the sound of a crossbow unloading.

Looking back towards the scene, he saw both Jon and Ghost laying unmoving in the snow, and the Greyjoy boy reloading his crossbow before firing again. The second bolt seemed to cause the bear to rethink the situation and it spun to run away before receiving a third and final shot through the eye and fell to the ground unmoving.

The whole event had lasted maybe a minute and yet Jaime felt like he’d aged a year. Joffrey was safely back with the other members of the Kingsguard who’d snagged his horse’s reins, and Jaime saw Robb Stark running towards his fallen brother. He found himself running as well towards the boy and couldn’t help but gasp when he looked upon him.

He had a deep claw mark running from the top of his head and down through his eyebrow, with blood covering his face. His arms were littered with claw marks as well as a deep bleeding mark on his thigh that needed to be stopped soon or he worried he’d bleed out.

Taking off his white cloak, he quickly ripped off a strip and tied it tightly around his leg to help stop the bleeding, repeating it around his arm and looking at the mark on his head. Robb was whispering to his brother, attempting to rouse him, yet there was no response from Jon. Ghost had regained consciousness and besides a nasty scratch down his front leg seemed okay, and was licking his master's hand and whining softly.

Jaime felt panic starting to fill him. “We need to get him to maester quickly. He’ll bleed out if we don’t.” He said to Robb and looked into the boy’s eyes, seeing his own feelings reflected back.

“You take him back Ser Jaime. Your horse is the fastest and you are the best rider.” He heard a voice say from behind him, turning to see Ser Barristan looking stunned.

The King and Lord Stark had also made their way over and Robert was looking between the bleeding boy on the ground and his friend. “Your son saved my son.” were the only words he could say.

Lord Stark seemed to be made of ice. Looking coldly at the boy on the ground, his son, and the King. Jaime couldn’t understand why he seemed almost disappointed, but right now his focus was on getting Jon some help. He picked him up carefully, as to not disturb the tourniquet and made his way over to Leo. Barristan took Jon carefully while Jaime mounted up and he and the Hound helped to situate him carefully on the saddle., before quietly saying “We’ll see you back at the keep Ser. Help him, we owe him a great debt. I’ll make sure his wolf is seen too and makes it back safely as well.”

Jaime nodded and quickly spurred Leo on as fast as he dared without risking more damage to the boy. The entire ride back, all Jaime could think of was the panic he’d seen in Jon’s eyes, as well as the determination, when he’d shouted at him to get Joff to safety.

Everyone knew the crown prince to be a spoiled brat, liked by few who weren’t his mother and those he paid. Yet this bastard boy had jumped in front of a monsterous bear to save him from a painful death. Thinking not of himself or anything else, but saving a prince. Jaime hadn’t seen such selflessness in a long time, and it reminded him a lot of what Ser Arthur had taught him a knight should be. More than just a glorified bodyguard or a hero of a tourney, but someone who was meant to protect the innocent, regardless of the cost to himself.

So lost in thought, the ride to Winterfell went quickly and Jaime soon found himself galloping into the yard yelling for the Maester. The Lady Catelyn had run quickly towards him, with panic in her eyes, until she saw it was Jon, and not her son or husband. The panic was quickly replaced with a small amount of concern, followed by determination as she ordered the strongest men in the yard to carefully carry him to the Maester’s chambers.

Jaime found himself alone and on the ground and felt the shock setting in as he looked down at the blood covering him. Jon’s blood. Spilt for his prince, for his family. He owed this boy a debt and he swore at that moment, he’d make sure Jon would never see the Wall as more than a visitor. Ned Stark wouldn’t tell him no this time.

“Ser Jaime?” a soft female voice called from behind him. It was Lady Catelyn and she looked pensive

“Yes. My Lady” He responded quietly.

“Jon. The Maester seems concerned for his survival. What happened out there, what caused him to be hurt so severely?”

“He jumped in front of a bear, My Lady, with nothing but a rusted sword. Saved the Crown Prince in doing so. He was a hero this day.” Jaime responded back looking towards the area of the keep that housed the Maester’s chambers.

“He has always been a selfless boy. Never thinking of himself, just others. I’ve tried to hate him since my husband brought him home from the war, but when I see how quick he is to defend the weak and be there for my children. This will devastate them, Ser Jaime. Robb and Arya especially. He cannot die. For their sake”

“Well, say a prayer, my Lady, to whatever gods you worship. From what I saw of his wounds they are severe, and he will need all of the help he can get.” He gave her a small nod and made his way to the royal wing.

He found Cersei and the twin Princesses in the Queen’s solar, seemingly aware of the chaos he’d brought with him from the woods.

“Jaime. What is happening, what is the upheaval going on in the courtyard?” Cersei’s eyes were scanning him quickly and noted the blood covering his hands and torso, and panic filled them, “Why are you covered in blood? Joff, Jaime where is Joff?” She was almost screaming at him and he felt her nails dig into his arms.

“Quiet sister, he’s safe. He shouldn’t be, but thanks to Jon Snow, he is alive and unharmed. He jumped in front of the biggest bear I’ve ever seen, and distracted it while I got Joff away” Jaime said quickly to dispel any further hysteria.

“Jon Snow?” That is Lord Stark’s bastard son right Uncle Jaime? Joanna asked from the side of her mother. “I’ve seen him spar with Robb Stark in the yard. He’s really good.”

“Arya and Sansa sing his praises all the time. Said he has the traits of a valiant knight. I’m not surprised he jumped to help.” Cassana added from the chair next to her sister. “Is he well? Here? I’d like to thank him for saving our brother.”

“I’m sorry sweet niece, but he was gravely injured by the bear and is currently in the Maester’s chambers being taken care of. I’m going to change and make my way over to find out his status and will keep you informed if you wish?”

Both girls nodded with concerned eyes and turned to each other holding a whispered conversation. Cersei was looking at him carefully, but he could still see some of the panic in her green eyes. “Did he really save him Jaime? Truly, a Stark saved a Lannister?”

“He did. I witnessed the whole thing myself. If he survives, we owe him greatly. You know what Father would say about debts. He is not only owed by the Lannisters, but by the kingdom as a whole. And I intend to see him rewarded. Lord Stark seems determined to send his bastard to the Wall, but I’m not going to let it happen. I may need your help, Cersei before this is over.”

Cersei straightened to her full height, and anyone around could see her queenly facade fall across her face. “If he saved my son, he can have whatever he wants. I am a Lannister first. I’ll pay my debts. Let me know how I can assist.” and turned towards the twins.

Jaime quickly made his way to his room and changed out of his bloody armor and clothing, before finding a servant to lead him towards the Maester’s chambers. The door was still shut but he could hear movement beyond it. So he made himself comfortable and waited. Hours passed. At some point he was joined by Robb Stark, who gave him a nod while sitting across from, the youngest Stark girl, who had fallen asleep next to him, and Ser Barristan, who told him his shift had been covered for the night, to keep him updated. Night had fallen, when the Maester finally emerged and beckoned them inside.

Jon was laying on the bed, paler than usual with bruises littering his upper body and torso, Ghost had found his way in at somepoint and was sititng under the bed licking his own wounds.

“He lost a lot of blood, but I was able to stitch up the worst of it before it would be considered too much. His thigh being the worst. Your quick thoughts of the tourniquet saved his life Ser. We are indebted to you. He’s bruised and scratched, but no bones are broken which should help him heal quickly. We’ll watch for infection.” The Maester, Luwin, he'd heard him called by Robb, explained quietly. “Our biggest concern is his head. I’ve stitched the cut on his head and face, but he has yet to regain consciousness, which has me concerned for how hard he was hit. We will watch him carefully and hope he will come back to us, but for now all we can do is wait.” he finished sadly.

Arya had started crying and Jaime saw her brother reach over and pull her closer in comfort, while fighting back tears himself.

“Is there anything we can do Maester?” Jaime asked trying to offer hope for the siblings.

“I’m sorry Ser. It is up to his strength and the Gods now. Pray for him, talk to him, and wait for him.”

So that is what they did.

Chapter Text

The world was fuzzy all around him. He remembered the bear, something compelling him to jump in and save the boy prince nobody liked. He just knew he had to save him, and then his world felt full of pain and went dark. He could hear his brother calling to him to open his eyes. Ser Jaime assured him he’d make it, to just hang on, but all he felt was exhaustion and the need to give in to it.  

And now he was here in the Godswood, but it felt different, like he wasn’t meant to be there. He closed his eyes in dread, wondering if this was hell, and was surprised by arms wrapping around his shoulders and a body colliding against his and squeezing him so tight that it was hard to breathe. 

Something felt right about being hugged by this person. He breathed deeply, and tightened his arms around them. He opened his eyes and saw it was a woman with long wavy dark hair, lighter than his, similar to Arya’s color, that fell to the middle of her back. She was shorter than him as well, barely coming to the shoulder she had her face pressed into. Finally pulling back he looked down to where her face was and to his dismay instead of eyes, nose, and a mouth, he found a shadow. 

“Why can’t I see your face. Who are you?” He asked, feeling lightheaded and unbearably sad for some reason.

“The Gods do not feel it is time for you to know my face, a soft melodic voice responded. “For it would reveal details of yourself you aren’t prepared for. What you can know is that I am who you think I am, my little wolf, and I am here to make sure you make it back to fulfill your destiny.”

Jon felt the pain recede and was quickly replaced with shock as it coursed through his veins. “Mother?” 

“Yes little wolf, I am your mother. The mother who would have given anything to have been with you as you learned and grew into the fine man you are becoming. I’ve watched over you your entire life, and I know it hasn’t been easy, but the Gods have a plan. I wish I could tell you more, but for now all that matters is that you know I love you and am here always.” as she pointed to his heart. 

“Why can’t I know your name, or see your face?” he pleaded falling to his knees and taking her hands in his. 

“While you are in Winterfell and under Ned’s protection, my name and face would put you in more danger. I wasn’t meant to meet you yet, you weren’t supposed to be in a situation like this, but here we are and the Gods granted me a gift to be one of the ones to help lead you back. I’m so proud of you son, we are so proud of you. You are becoming an honorable man, just like your father. One day I hope he is able to tell you how proud he is of you.” She ran her hands through his curls and even though he couldn’t see her eyes or face, somehow he knew she had tears streaming down her cheeks

“Will I see you again?” he asked as he stood and hugged her close again. 

“Once more, and next time we will have an even more difficult fight ahead of us, but there will be no more secrets at that time.”

Jon felt the Godswood start to move and tightened his grip on the tiny woman in his arms. “I don’t want to lose you again, after just finding you. Please let me stay here with you.”

“You can’t my son, I wish you could, but you can’t. There are people who need you back in Westeros. People important to your past and your future. You must go back.” As she turned his head and he felt her ghostly lips graze his forehead. “I love you my little wolf. I have loved you since the moment I first knew you grew in my belly. We had so many plans for you, for us as a family. I’m sorry that we couldn’t give them to you, but I know there are great things in your future, fight for them son, fight as hard as you can.” 

As the world around them shifted once more, Jon felt his own tears flowing down his face. “I love you too Mother, so much.”

Suddenly he felt her arms leave him, and the temperature around him rose significantly. Jon opened his eyes to find himself in a well lit garden somewhere with a hot dry climate. Looking around he saw a small woman with long silver hair looking over some flowers in the corner of the garden. “Who are you?” he asked as he walked over towards the woman.

She turned to look at him and he saw the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. Lilac flecked with gold framed by long dark eyelashes. He saw her mouth part in surprise as she looked searchingly between his eyes. “I’m Dany, and you are the Wolf. I’ve seen you in my dreams, always made of stars, but your eyes are the same. I’ve never seen your face before, but I’m glad I have now.” 

Jon stood there shocked at this beautiful woman talking to him like they’d known each other for years. He looked around the garden and saw strange exoctic flowers growing around him and fruit he’d never seen growing in a nearby tree.  “Where are we?” 

“I think we are in my dreams technically, but this is my garden here in Pentos. It’s my favorite place, so it seems appropriate that I would dream here.” She sat herself on the bench under the fruit tree, and patted the space next to here for him. “I think what is most important is, why are you here?” 

He sat down next to her and found himself surrounded by her scent. It was intoxicating and between that and her eyes, he felt that he’d be fine staying here in her dreams for all eternity. “To be honest, I think I’m dying, and the Gods are rewarding me with my last thoughts being of a beautiful woman.”

Dany quickly turned to face him and he saw panic in her eyes as she grabbed his hands. “Dying? You can’t be dying. Why would you be dying?”

“I fought a bear, and it clearly won” he shrugged and continued to take in his surroundings until he felt her turn his face back to hers.

“You have to live Wolf, I’ve seen you do great things, fight great evils, in my dreams, and my dreams always come true.” She looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Jon found himself chuckling, “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He paused and thought for a moment. “I think I’ve seen you in my dreams as well, are you a Targaryen by chance? I’ve dreamt of a dragon made of stars and like you said, your eyes match it.”

“Dany’s eyes had lit up when he said she was the most beautiful, and grew even brighter when he mentioned his dreams. “I am! Daenerys Targaryen, but my friends and family call me Dany!” She stood up quickly and dragged him off the bench so she could throw her arms around him in excitement. Like his mother she was tiny, her feet coming off the ground when she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

Jon couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her as well and they both found themselves laughing. He felt a similar peace, like he’d felt with his mother, with this woman in his arms, but he also felt his heartbeat flutter when she pulled her head back to smile up at him. “I think I like a man so handsome dreaming of me.” She said shyly as she looked into his eyes. 

Jon had never kissed a girl. Most girls didn’t want a bastard looking at them, let alone touching them. If Lord Stark had heard anything of it, he’d have been punished for sure, so he’d just avoided any girls not his sisters. Now looking down at Dany he found himself drawn to her, and when he saw her eyes flit back down to his lips again, he gave in to the draw. 

Lowering his head gently, he touched her lips quickly with his own and pulled back to gauge her response, but before he could he felt her hands reach up to his curls and pull him back down to her mouth. Dany seemed to show her happiness with him in that kiss, lavishly, deeply, like words that were not a promise but a fulfillment of all the things they would be. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her until the end of time, but he felt the world start to tighten again and knew his time here was coming to a close. “I think your kiss just saved my life, you beautiful girl. I’ll never forget this moment with you.” 

Dany seemed dazed but the realization of what he was saying seemed to hit her and her eyes cleared. “I’m not even sure if this is real, but I hope tomorrow I’ll wake up and remember this moment. My first kiss with a handsome knight in my dreams. I don’t know how I know, but one day we will meet again and on that day promise me you’ll kiss me again.”

Jon knew he was about to be taken away again, but he grabbed her hand once more and placed a kiss upon her knuckles. “I promise my Lady. If we meet again, nothing will stop me from fulfilling that promise. Goodbye sweet princess. I hope I dream of you again.” And the last thing he remembered was her beautiful smile shining a light through the darkness that surrounded him, before he opened his eyes in the Maester's chambers.

His vision once again felt fuzzy, but this time with a few blinks things began to clear. He tried to turn his head but felt a lightning bolt of pain shot behind his eyes and groaned loudly. He heard a gasp somewhere off to his side and felt a small hand grab his. “Jon! Jon! Thank the Gods you are awake! Maester Luwin! Maester Luwin he’s awake!” he heard Arya squeal.

“Arya. Arya please stop yelling. My head” Jon wheezed out, his voice horace from disuse. He saw Maester Luwin’s face appear above his. “I am very glad to see you awake Jon Snow” the old man said with a smile on his face. “How do you feel?”

“Like I fought a bear and lost.” he said as the Maester brought over a candle and shined it in his eyes. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A week. We were about to give up hope.” Luwin replied, and Jon saw his smile turn into a deep frown. Something must’ve happened while he was unconscious. Something he disagreed with, but couldn’t say in front of Arya. 

His sister was still holding his hand, almost vibrating from excitement. “I’ve stayed with you as often as Mother and Father would let me. I was so worried for you Brother. We all were. Robb, Bran and Sansa have been here with you as well. Even Mother, and she brought Rickon. They are all going to be so glad you are going to be okay.”

“All right little lady, I need to examine your brother and he needs some quiet. Go inform the rest of your family of the good news.” Arya nodded quickly and gave his hand a little pat and scurried out of the room with Nymeria close at her heels.

Luwin came over and carefully helped him sit up on the bed. Jon looked around and saw Ghost laying under the table next to his bed, two red eyes staring into his, asking permission to come up to him. He gave him a small nod and the pup was on the bed in a second with his head in his lap, giving little licks to his fingers. 

“Tell me Maester, how bad off am I really?” He asked, looking up from the pup and into the eyes of the man he’d known as long as he could remember. “Now that you are awake, I am optimistic you’ll make a full recovery. Though I must be honest, the longer you stayed asleep, the more worried I became. Not only for your mental capacity should you awaken, but also your physical wellbeing if you stayed asleep. Lord Stark was starting to ask questions as to how long we needed to continue to supply your body with the things it needed to survive while you recovered. The King was insistent on staying until you recovered in order to thank you personally for saving the prince, yet Lord Stark seems eager to start the trip to the capital.” 

The frown was back on the Masters face, and Jon felt it had nothing to do with his injuries. “He really does want me gone, doesn’t he?” Jon asked him, feeling every pain in his body all at once. 

Luwin looked at him shocked, it was the first time he’d ever acknowledged the obvious hatred his father exhibited towards him. “I’m afraid so my boy, he has never forgiven your mother for what she did.” 

“Another who knows her name, while I can’t be bothered to be told.” Jon muttered bitterly. Luwin looked to object but he quickly continued. “ I dreamt of her you know. I couldn’t see her face. Just hear her talk to me and she told me it wasn’t safe while I was here. I’m starting to question if she meant safe from Lord Stark. I won't ask you Maester. I know your chain keeps you from revealing this secret, but if something were to happen to me. Please make sure they send my bones back to her family. I’d like to rest with her for the rest of time if possible.”

“I promise on my vow as a Maester it will be so, Jon. Now you need to rest, thankfully you are awake and seem to be no worse for wear, but you still took a nasty hit to the head and lost a lot of blood. I’m going to go down to the kitchen to have some food sent up and then I'll give you some milk of the poppy to help you get some more sleep. Tomorrow I imagine you’ll have many visitors and I’d like you to get as much rest as possible, especially with these fever dreams you appear to be having.” And with a pat on the shoulder he exited the room, leaving Jon to his thoughts. 

His mind was racing with the thoughts of his mother and Dany. Could he actually have met them. Or was it his damaged brain trying to give him some comfort in case he did not survive. They had felt so real. He could still feel his mother’s hug around his shoulders, and Dany’s lips against his. He could smell her garden, and hear his mother’s words in his ears. Regardless of whether it was real or not, it felt nice to feel some semblance of love, of acceptance for the first time in his life. 

So lost in his thoughts, he missed the door opening and closing, and wasn’t aware of another's presence until he saw Ghost bare his teeth.

“You aren’t supposed to be awake.” A cold voice rang out from in front of the closed door. A grungy, disheveled man was standing in front of the bed. He pulled out a dagger from his side. The blade looked like ripply grey smoke. Valyrian Steel. The sharpest steel known to man. He may have survived the bear, but there was no way he’d survive valyrian steel. He prepared for the inevitable as the man walked towards him with the raised steel. Before he could touch him, Ghost had his jaws wrapped around the arm holding the dagger. Jon was able to roll out from under the struggling direwolf and cutthroat, to the floor and landed with a thud. The fall made the aches and bruises on his body explode again and as he tried to stand he felt the room shift as the blood rushed from his head. 

As he tried to move towards the door, he was suddenly knocked back to the ground again by the man and found himself pinned by his weight. He tried to yell for help, but found his mouth covered by one dirty hand as the other wrapped around his windpipe. Somehow in the struggle with Ghost he’d lost the deadly dagger, but in his weakened state, Jon would not be able to withhold him for long. “It’s a mercy. It’s a mercy. The cutthroat kept repeating as he squeezed his throat tighter and tighter. 

Jon could see black creeping in on the corners of his vision and could swear he saw a pair of Stark grey eyes, filled with panic, staring back at him as the world went black and his heart started to slow. Suddenly the weight lifted off of him and his vision began to return. He coughed and dragged as much air back into his lungs and looked frantically around for his attacker, but was instead greeted by a concerned pair of green eyes. 

“Ser Jaime? What? Who? How?” He couldn’t think straight. Twice in a week he’d almost died, and yet he found himself once again blessed by the Gods to have been saved. He looked past the knight and saw the body of his attacker slowly bleeding with Ghost standing over him. The wolf had ripped his throat out after Ser Jaime must have pulled him off of him.

“You seem to drag trouble with you, everywhere you go.” Ser Jaime said, trying to lighten the mood. 

“And you seem to have made it a habit to save my life Ser. I’m indebted to you once again.” Jon croaked out, what headway he’d made in getting his voice back now gone thanks to the bruising hand of his, would be, assassin.  He tried to stand again, and felt the world go sideways once more. He would have fallen had Ser Jaime not thrown a shoulder under his arm and helped him back in the bed.

“What happened. Did he say anythi…” The knight started to ask him just as the door was thrown open once more and Maester Luwin came in followed closely by Lord and Lady Stark. 

“Jon! By the gods!” The Maester exclaimed as he took in the dead man, bloody direwolf, and his rapidly bruising throat. He hurried to his bed side and began examining his stitches, muttering that some had ripped and would need to be resewn, and gathering tools to look for any new injuries caused by the catspaw. 

“The boy was set upon by this cutthroat. I was coming to check on him, and heard the struggle and hurried inside. He was barely conscious when I arrived. I pulled him off of Jon, and the wolf took care of the assassin.” Ser Jaime seemed to seeth towards Lord Stark who was looking over everything with his usual cold and when their eyes met, it felt like the temperature dropped in the room.  

“It seems we are indebted to you even more so Kingslayer. Maester please keep me apprised of his newest injuries, I’ll inform the King of the situation, and I guess we shall have to put off our leaving. Again.”  Lord Stark said before turning towards the door and taking his leave.

“May I suggest, My Lady, that we keep this latest adventure under wraps. From anyone not in this room and the rest of the Kingsguard?” Jaime asked Lady Stark who was looking between him and the dead man with more concern than he’d expected from her. His words seemed to jar her back to the present, “Yes of course Ser Jaime. We will defer to your expertise in situations like this, as well as for the safety to the King. Robb will have to be told, as there is no way to disguise those bruises as from the bear, but he will understand the necessity for discretion. Jon?”

Hearing his name he looked up to her. “Yes Lady Stark?” 

“I’m glad you are okay. Please try and stay that way.” 

Shocked, all he could do was nod at her as she made her way out of the chambers. Looking around he saw that it was only Ser Jaime and Maester Luwin who remained. 

“Tell me what happened Jon, before I came in. What did he say?”

“Just that I shouldn't be awake. He had a dagger, I think it was Valyrian steel. Ghost bit his arm so he would drop it, while I tried to escape.”

“Valyrian steel? Are you sure? Not just anybody has a Valyrian steel blade?” 

“Look for it and see for yourself, it should be somewhere around the bed.” He felt his head starting to pound again. All he wanted to do was sleep and to escape back to his mother or dream of Dany. He watched as Ser Jaime searched under the table and around his bed until finally straightening to his full height with the blade in hand. Up close he could see the ripples in the blade and knew he was right about the Valyrian steel and the hilt was shiny black. 

“I know this blade. I haven’t seen it in fifteen years, but I’d know it anywhere. There is only one dagger like this in all of the seven kingdoms. This belonged to Arthur Dayne. It has belonged to the Daynes for generations. Passed on along with Dawn. I assumed Arthur had it with him, or left it at Starfall. How did a cutthroat in the North come across a relic from House Dayne? And why would he use it to attempt to kill the Lord’s bastard son?”

With the revelation, Jon felt his exhaustion even more. “I’m not sure Ser. I doubt the Daynes are looking to kill me. Regardless, once I leave for the Wall, it won’t matter anymore. I will be nothing, but another black brother, my life forfeit to the realms. With my recent luck, perhaps I’ll be gone before the first moon there.” he muttered dejectedly. 

“You don’t have to go to the Wall, Jon. Lord Stark made it sound as though this was your wish. Your choice. But if you do not want it, tell me now and I can make it happen.”

“My wish? My choice? Why would it be anyone's choice? I’m not shocked he would try and force me to join here behind closed doors in Winterfells. But to lie to outsiders. His hatred really has grown for me. I’m almost flattered. The honorable Lord Stark, lying for the sake of me.” Jon knew the words would sound bitter to anyone else. Yet so much of his life he’d defended his father’s words and actions, accepted his fate with a smile and respect. Perhaps being so near death was loosening his tongue and fading his desire to just accept the inevitable. 

“When you are well enough, the King will call for you. He will offer you a reward. Ask for a squireship. Ser Barriston has already asked Lord Stark’s permission, which he denied, but the King will give it to you, if you ask. Even the Queen is prepared to champion your cause. You just have to ask Jon. You have so much still to offer to this world, don’t throw it away because you feel you do not deserve it.” With a final look towards him, Jaime started to leave the room, but stopped when Jon called out.

“Why? Why are you trying to help me? Why do you keep saving my life?”

He looked back at him again, while thinking, before he answered. “You remind me a lot of what I wanted to be, before I earned the title Kingslayer. I want to see someone succeed. And you know my house's words yes?

“Of course. Hear me roar.” Jon answered 

Jaime smiled as he walked out the door, his final words could still be heard “The true words of our great House. A Lannister always pays his debts. And you, Jon Snow, are owed by a great many Lannisters.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: Tyrion I

“Why do you read so much?” Tyrion looked up at the sound of the still raspy voice. He, like his brother, had spent many hours next to the bed of Jon Snow. Night and day, if the Maester or one of his siblings weren't in the room, one of the brothers made sure to be there to keep an eye on the boy. It had been a week since the night Jaime had walked in and saved him from an assassin, and Jon was getting stronger by the day. The King had called for an audience the following day, with court planning to make the move back to The Capital in a week, and their hope was that Jon would be joining them.

Thinking on his question, he closed the book he’d been reading while Jon had napped, and saw the opportunity he’d been looking for to impart a bit of wisdom.

“What do you see when you look at me?”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows, and Tyrion saw his eyes narrow. “Is this a trick. I see Tyrion Lannister of course.”

Tyrion couldn’t help but sigh. “You are almost too polite for such a young person. What you see is a dwarf. How old are you?”

“Fourteen” Jon replied the line between his eyebrows grew more.

“Fourteen, and you are taller than I’ll ever be. My legs are short; twisted and I walk with difficulty. I require a special saddle to ride a horse without falling. A saddle I designed, I’ll have you know, with knowledge I gained from reading. My arms are too short to wield a sword like you or my brother, and my face and eyes are what some maidens think of when they hear the word monster. Had I been born a peasant, they would have thrown me down a well or left me at the Septon’s door. As it were, I was lucky enough to be born a Lannister of Casterly Rock. A name that requires some sort or prowess, and being a dwarf does not excuse not living up to my name. Jousting and swordsmanship were out, as was an advantageous marriage. I was surrounded by people achieving amazing things. My father was Hand of the King for twenty years. My brother was the youngest man to ever join the Kingsguard, before killing the same King my father had served.”

“Why did Ser Jaime kill the King?” Jon interrupted. “I have sparred with him, talked with him, and he seems a good man. Not the kind to break a solemn oath to his King.”

Tyrion looked at the young man carefully. “My brother had his reasons. Very few know them, mainly because when Lord Stark found him after, he judged him without asking him. I am one of the few who know the story, and I shan’t break his confidence. Maybe you should ask him one day.”
Jon’s eyes seemed to want to argue for the explanation, but Tyrion continued before he could. “Every member of my family has a weapon to offer to the realms. Whether it be physical like my sister’s looks and my brother's strength, or cunning and daring like my father. I had to find my weapon, and I did in my mind. Your mind need’s books like a sword needs a whetstone if it’s to keep its edge. That is why I read so much Jon.”

The lad was looking at him in silence, the purple in eyes seemed to glow as he absorbed all Tyrion had said. So he went for the meat of his little lecture. “My brother told me you have weapons as well.”

“I can swing a sword alright.” Jon answered, looking down to the hands in his lap.

“Better than alright from what Barristan and Jaime have claimed, and I said weapons” emphasizing the plural. “The Maester says you are smart, and have a love of reading yourself. The Cook says you are kind, and help others as often as you can. My brother said you have courage and compassion, because you jumped in front of a monstrous bear to save a virtual stranger, even if he is your future king. From what I have been told, as well as observed myself, you have the makings of a true knight. Something very few in this shit world can claim.”

“Why are you asking after me?” Jon asked, as his cheeks had reddened while Tyrion listed all the good things he knew of him

“Because Jon, I see the worst of the worst in this world. Being a dwarf, people look at me and see someone less than garbage and treat me as such. You met me, in my drunken state, and treated me decently. You have given my brother hope, that there is GOOD in this world and in men. You saved my nephew, and in turn saved the realms from a lack of an heir... And yet you seem resigned to throwing everything you have to offer this world away, just to freeze at the Wall. I am telling you all of this, so you can see what the rest of us can see and fight for the right to become so much more.”

“My Father…” Jon started to say, but Tyrion wouldn’t have it.

“Fuck your father! I can say that, because I have had to say the same about my own. Any father willing to sacrifice his son’s potential, no longer can claim a right to determine his path. It is clear to everyone your so-called father wants nothing to do with you, so stop thinking about what he desires and decide for yourself what it is you desire!

Jon was looking at him shocked; at a loss for words at his tirade, so Tyrion hopped off the chair he’d been sitting in and made for the door, turning to offer his final words. “Tomorrow, the King is going to offer you a reward for saving Joffrey. There is no use hiding it from you, everyone else knows. You can have anything you want. Gold. Jewels. Land. Not that they’ll do you any good at the Wall, but you can also ask for a FUTURE Jon. Something very few in
your position can claim. Don’t waste it. Don’t waste yourself.”

With that Tyrion walked out the door of the Maester’s chambers and made his way to his room in the royal wing. He knew he had been aggressive with Jon, yet sometimes he knew you had to be to get a point across. Everything he’d said, he believed, and he would fight to make sure this boy got what he deserved.

“Little Brother” He heard Jaime’s voice as he turned the corner. His brother was standing in front of the Princesses room, looking every inch the knight in his white armor and cloak.

“Big Brother” He answered with a grin.

“I’m about off for the day. Would you like to join me for a drink in the Wintertown tavern?” Jaime asked

“I would. I need to tell you of my conversation with our favorite bastard. I’ll meet you at the tavern in an hour.” and he walked into his room.

Later as he waited for Jaime in the tavern, Tyrion thought over their stay in Winterfell. Lord Stark had been pleased to have his friend in his home. It was obvious to everyone that the men thought of each other as brothers. The pending betrothal between Stark’s heir and one of the King’s daughters would make them family officially. Like they had wanted since the days before the rebellion. Lyanna Stark would have been the bride, if Robert and Ned had gotten their way, but she was stolen by Rhaeger Targaryan, so the stories say. Tyrion had been too young at the time to truly know what had happened with the She-Wolf and the Dragon Prince, but Jaime had always expressed his shock that Rhaeger would kidnap a maiden. He had loved his wife and children Jaime had assured him, and he couldn’t imagine any woman could have taken him from them.

Tyrion soon found his musing interrupted by said brother, and gave the barkeep a nod, ordering another mug of the strong Northern ale for him. “How was your day, dear Brother?”

“Same work, different day, Tyrion you know how it goes. The life of a Kingsguard does not change unless the kingdom is at war, and Gods be good, that does not happen.” Jaime stopped to take a drink of his ale and grimaced. “No wonder Stark looks so bitter all the time, if this is what he drinks daily.”

“Bitter ale does not explain his bitter attitude towards his bastard son.” Tyrion muttered and saw a grimace cross Jaime’s face that had nothing to do with his ale. “How do you think Jon’s meeting with the King will go?”

“I’ve done all I can to convince him to fight for his future. He wants it Jaime, you can see it in his eyes. Yet he is afraid of his father. Rightfully so if the assassin is anything to go on. Is there any word on who hired or inspired him to kill a fourteen year old bastard boy?”

Jaime lowered his voice “Nothing on the man, he seems to have appeared out of nowhere.The dagger is an old Dayne relic. I remember Ser Arthur having it when he knighted me. Everyone knows Ned Stark was the last person to see Dayne before he was injured, and it was his man who took him to Starfall. Yet why would Ned Stark use something so easily identified, to murder his own son. He’s not a stupid man, Tyrion. And if he did have the dagger here, anybody could have stolen it, but from what I have gathered Jon is well loved throughout Winterfell. Who has anything to gain from his death?”

Tyrion glanced around, trying to keep his next words between them. “Nobody does. Not even Lord Stark. This was a personal attack. Everyone knows the rumors of Ashara Dayne being the boy’s mother. His eyes alone add fuel to that fire. Perhaps Lord Stark saw an opportunity for some poetic justice. Use the boy’s family weapon to take him out? Maybe he wanted to shame Dayne, by using his weapons to kill his nephew, as punishment for how he stood by while his sister was kidnapped.”
Jaime interrupted him with a low growl. “Arthur would never have allowed a maiden to be abducted against her will. Especially when it would shame his childhood friend in the process. Rumor was he was angry at Rhaegar when he pulled that stunt, crowning her Queen of Love and Beauty, but they eventually reconciled.” Jaime looked indignant at the insult to his mentor. “Many things happened in that year after the Tourney. Arthur and Rhaegar all but disappeared from the Red Keep after Aegon's birth. Rhaegar would eventually return, before he left for the Trident, but I never saw Arthur again.”

Tyrion was thoughtful for a moment before he continued. “Regardless. The one thing that is obvious is that Jon cannot stay here. His life will be in danger, so whether it is to King’s Landing or the Wall, Jon Snow’s time in Winterfell is up.

Jaime looked sad. “Ser Barristan is ready to accept him as his squire. He just has to make sure he tells the King that is what he wants to come South.”

Tyrion took in his brother’s downtrodden look. “Tell me, why is it Barristan that is volunteering to take him on, and not yourself?” Jaime had clearly taken a liking to him, if his vigil at his bedside was anything to go on.

“He’s a good lad Tyrion, he could be the best knight the kingdoms have seen since Dayne before his self imposed exile. Even better in fact, yet he won’t achieve that tied to the Kingslayer, Tyrion.”

Tyrion was well aware of the reasons behind Jaime gaining that hated moniker. He had broken down years ago and told him of the Mad King’s final words and the nightmares he still had featuring “Burn them all” and wildfire flames taking the capital. Arthur Dayne wasn’t the only knight who exiled himself in a way, but Jaime had exiled his heart from feeling anything for anyone beyond his family. “Perhaps Jon isn’t the only one who needed a dressing down.” He thought.

He narrowed his eyes at his brother. “You are so much more than the Kingslayer. You are blessed with abilities that few men possess. You're blessed to belong to the most powerful family in the Kingdoms, and you're still blessed with youth. And yet what have you done with these blessings? You have served as a glorified bodyguard for two kings, one a madman, the other a drunk? The world does not know what you have done, but I do. You gave up love in the name of honor and morality. You have fought valiantly in battle, as well as saved hundreds of thousands from a fiery death. You sacrificed it all for the people of King's Landing. It is time to stop punishing yourself, Jaime. I need you to become the man you were always meant to be. Not next year, not in a moon...now. We keep telling Jon not to throw away his potential, well dammit follow your own advice and don’t throw away what you have to teach.” With that Tyrion downed the rest of his ale, threw a few coins on the table and left his shocked brother to deal with his words.

As he walked back to Winterfell, Tyrion felt the weight on his small shoulders grow. He was used to having to be the smartest Lannister. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Jon that he’s worked hard to sharpen his mind in order to better his house. Yet some days it was exhausting having to be the one to constantly make sure people stayed on the right path. He wondered what his father would think of Jaime taking on a squire. It would be good for House Lannister to forge some ties with the North. It was the one kingdom they hadn't married into, so even something a minor as a squireship would be a good start. Especially with a son of Winterfell, regardless of what sides of the sheets he had been born on. If Jon ended up becoming as successful as everyone hoped, it would also reflect well on them. Much like Sir Gregor’s atrocities at the sack had labeled them child murders, Jon could bring them back as the champion of bastards.

As Tyrion made it back into Winterfell he saw Ser Barristan in the training yard watching over the King and his new Hand as they watched Joffrey and Robb Stark spar. Robb was obviously far superior, but Joff was trying; it was more than they could say about him back in King’s Landing. He made his way over to him and asked, “Lord Commander, if I could have a word?” He motioned over to a quiet area, at his nod. Tyrion saw Stark’s head whip towards as they walked over, and his eyes narrowed at them.

“What can I do for you My Lord Tyrion?” Selmy asked him as he turned to make sure the King was still in his eyesight.

“I need your help with something Ser, but first I ask that you just listen.” He kept his back towards the training yard and his voice as low as he could to avoid anyone overhearing, and Barristan’s nod, he began. “I know you have always taken issue with my brother and what he did to King Aerys, and what he didn’t do for Elia. I have begged him for years to tell you why he did it, but whether it is pride or fear, he has refused. Being born a dwarf, I have neither. Jaime did not slay the Mad King on order from my Father as many assume, nor did he do it for glory or to save himself. He did it, good Ser, to save the people of King’s Landing from wildfire. The King had ordered the pyromancers to set off wildfire caches they’d laid throughout the city and had Jaime not killed him, every person in the city would have died a most painful death. Jaime, to this day regrets not being able to save the Princess and her children, but he had to decide and had he not stopped the King, they would have died regardless in the wildfire. ‘Burn them all’ was all the Mad King could say, and Jaime hears it every night in his nightmares.” He finished and looked up towards the Kingsguard.

Selmy’s face had drained of all color and he almost seemed to stumble back a bit before catching himself on a post. “Why…” he started with a raspy voice, before clearing his throat a bit and trying again. “Why has he never said anything to me. To anyone.”

Tyrion looked over his shoulder towards Stark, and glared at him before turning back. “He was never given the chance. Lord Stark found him and judged him guilty for all to hear. Who would have listened to a man whose father had just sacked the city, and whose sword dripped with the King’s blood, over the honorable Ned Stark?”

“I’m sorry Lord Tyrion, I never should have judged him without hearing his side. I’ll apologize to him as soon as I can…”

“That is not why I told you this, and I beg you to not tell him, right now at least, that you know.” Tyrion interrupted. “What matters most is that you help me, help him find some redemption.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do My Lord.” Selmy kneeled down to his level.

“All of us can agree that Jon Snow needs to come South with us when we return to the
Capital.” He bagan, laying out his plan. “I have spoken to him, hoping he understands the importance of speaking up for himself tomorrow in front of The King. If he does, Jaime has told me you plan on offering to take the boy on as your squire. I need you to not.”

Selmy looked shocked. “Why my Lord? I thought you said you wanted him to come to King’s Landing?”

Tyrion chuckled at the indignant look that had appeared across the knight’s face. “I do. Of course I do. But I think we both agree that Jaime could teach him just as well as you can. And he needs to, Ser Barristan. He needs to know he can do good again. And I think Jon needs him as well. Jaime can understand what it is like to have a difficult father. Jon and Jaime both need to begin taking their lives back Ser. So tomorrow if Jon Snow asks to come to King’s Landing, I need you to keep silent. Give Jaime this. Please.” He was all but begging at the end.

He could see the understanding and sympathy in Barristan’s eyes. “It will be so my Lord. I will only step in if it becomes absolutely necessary. I agree that those two could help each other. And if this plan works, I pity anyone who has to ever go up against them.” He stood back to his full height and shook out his white cloak, before giving him a final nod, a pat on his shoulder, and making his way back to the King’s side.

Tyrion turned and made his way to his room, asking a servant to have his dinner sent to him tonight. Tyrion could talk, anyone in his family could tell you, he loved the sound of his own voice, but today all the emotional conversations had exhausted him, and the King had called the court early to publicly thank Jon Snow for saving his prince and, as the Queen’s brother, he would have to be there, not that he would miss it. So tonight he wanted to finish his book, drink some wine, and pray to his gods, all the work he’d put into that day would come to fruition.

The Next Day.

Tyrion looked around at the room the King was using as solar, and found everyone that held any importance in court had made an appearance. In the front of the room held the Royal family, with Joffrey standing in between his parents, and the twin princesses on either side of them. All seven members of the Kingsguard stood behind them, dressed in their full armour. It had to be the most official gathering they’d had the entire progress, which only showed the level of gratitude felt by the King and Queen for their heir’s survival.

“Let the boy in!” The King commanded the guards who then opened the double doors to reveal Jon Snow. He’d had a haircut since Tyrion had seen him yesterday, as well as a shave. He was wearing what appeared to be newer clothes and boots and looked as uncomfortable as he had ever seen him. He walked forward and immediately took a knee in front of the royal family.

“Your grace, it is an honor to be called before you today.” He said in his raspy voice as loudly as he could.

Robert waved his hand in a motion that indicated he should stand and began his well practiced speech. “Jon Snow, you come before the court today so that we may thank you for your bravery in the Wolfswood two weeks past. Your actions not only saved the Crown Prince from a horrible death, but also saved the kingdoms from a lack of male heir. Queen Cersei and I cannot begin to express our personal gratitude and we offer you, on this day, to grant any request or wish of your choosing to repay you for your bravery.”

Tyrion looked to his sister and for once saw a genuine smile on her face as she looked at Jon. Even Joffrey seemed to be happy in the day’s affair and Tyrion would make sure to try and cultivate a friendship between the two when they went South. Jon could be a good influence on his nephew and perhaps help mold him into a good king.

“Your Grace, if I may?” the cold voice of Eddard Stark rang from where he and his family stood to the left of the Royal family. At the King’s nod he continued. “While you honor the Starks with your generous offer, the boy needs no reward. He was only doing his duty to his King and the realms. Just the words are enough for him, which I accept on behalf of him and my family.” and he bowed towards his friend and stepped back towards his wife who was looking up at him in confusion.

The room seemed to erupt in whispers. Jon looked pale and Tyrion himself was shocked, he hadn’t expected Lord Stark to try and dissuade the King. He looked towards Jaime and Barristan and saw their faces also contorted in shock. He’d not prepared for this scenario.

“Actually, Your Grace.” Jon’s raspy voice spoke up again. He had gone down on one knee again. “While what Lord Stark says is true, I am grateful for even so public a commendation by the King and Queen, there is one thing you might be able to help me with.”

“Name your wish, my dear. You saved my son, nearly dying yourself, and I shall not see it go unrewarded” His sister said, while shooting daggers with her eyes at Lord Stark, as if daring him to deny him again.

“Thank you my Queen. It has been my dream, since I was a child, to become a knight. Bastards like myself can never hope to hold lands or have a wife and family. But I can fight, Your Grace, and I’d like to prove myself to the kingdoms if possible.” Jon replied, looking towards the King and then the glaring Lord Stark before dropping eyes back to the ground waiting for the King's decision.

Tyrion could see that Robert looked torn. “I can not knight you at four and ten with one heroic deed to your name, as much as I would like to, son, but perhaps one of my Kingsguard could find it in them to take you on as a squire?”

He and everyone in the room seemed to swivel their heads towards the seven men in white lining the back wall. Tyrion knew most of them were too selfish or stupid to even attempt such a thing. The only serious options were his brother and Barristan. Tyrion glanced over at Jon and saw his hopeful face looking towards the two men as the room remained silent.

Tyrion caught Barristan’s eye and saw the man wink, before Tyrion looked towards Jaime who’s eyes were also on his Lord Commander. They seemed to be having a conversation with their eyes, before he saw Barristan shrug and look again at the King. The longer the silence went on, the more Tyrion saw Jon begin to deflate, and Ned Stark’s face slowly morphed into a cold grin.

After a long minute, Jon slowly stood to his feet and bowed once again towards the King and Queen. “I appreciate your help, your Graces. As I said, it was just a child’s dream. I’m almost a man grown, it is time to say goodbye to childhood and start looking down my path. If it pleases you, I accept your words and require nothing more. I’ll take my leave from you.”

The boy's eyes had dulled, Tyrion could see the beginning of what might have been tears, and at the King’s nod he slowly turned and made his way to the door, only to stop when a voice rang through the solar.

“I will take the boy as my squire if it pleases your Graces.” Jaime had stopped forward and taken a knee next to the King and Queen.

Jon slowly turned around, and what once had been dull and full of tears, his eyes now seemed to burn purple fire as they, and the rest of the room looked towards the royal couple. Robert seemed to be shocked at the quick turn of events, but Cersei’s genuine smile was back on her face, and Tyrion felt true joy in his heart.

“It pleases us greatly Brother, and you my dear Jon Snow, will find no better knight to teach you. Welcome to Court.”

Chapter Text

Tomorrow was her wedding day, and there were many things she should be worrying about. Yet Dany had not stopped thinking about that boy since the night he’d fallen into her dreams. This morning she again found her lost in her daydreams about her “Wolf”. He’d been tall with a warriors build, of a similar age as herself, and he had a handsome face. Eyes that seemed to see into her soul, and a kiss that set her heart aflame. Dany hadn’t even learned his name, just calling him ‘Wolf’ like her first dreams of him. She hoped he had woken up from whatever injuries had inspired his journey to her dreams, and most of all she hoped that one day she could meet him again.

“My fellow magistars have doubled the city guard in preparation for the ceremony.” Illyrio’s words seemed to cut through her thoughts. “Why do we need so much protection?” she asked the magister alarmed. 

It was Ser Jorah who answered her question. “A Dothraki wedding is a lively affair, my princess. Best to make sure we have plenty of swords to protect the common people.” The old bear smiled at the thought. He’d offered his sword to Viserys the night she’d been presented to Khal Drogo and had moved into the manse the following day.

“They can burn half the city for all I care, as long as I get my army. When can I expect to begin my conquest, Illyrio?” Viserys asked from his side of the table. Her brother had been increasingly erratic, the closer it got to the wedding day. 

“You will have your army, Your Grace. The Dothraki are a superstitious people, if their omens favor war, it is war you will get. Drogo has promised you a crown, you will get a crown, you’ll just need to be...”

“I am the King! The last Dragon! I piss on Dothraki omens. I give Drogo a queen and he gives me back my throne. That is the deal.” Viserys interrupted, enraged. “He had better uphold his end, or he will wake the dragon!”

“He will Your Grace. I would just advise patience. You’ve waited this long, what is a few more months? A few more years?” Illyrio attempted to defuse the situation, knowing her brother was the type to go straight to the Khal with his complaints and likely get himself killed. 

 “Hold your tongue Magister. I am the last dragon, when I wish for advice, I’ll ask for it. Viserys sneered at their host and stormed out of the room. 

Dany looked around at Ser Jorah and Illyrio as they both looked sheepishly around the room and avoided her eyes. Looking down at her own plate, she wondered when she herself would be on the receiving end of his anger. “I’ll have to avoid him at all costs, or else I’ll have bruises on my wedding day” she thought before a whistle came from the gardens outside. A whistle she knew well, and she quietly excused herself and hurried to find the source. There sitting on the very bench she’d shared with the Wolf in her dreams, was Ser Arthur, holding a piece of paper in one hand. He greeted her with a sad smile and dropped to one knee when she took her place on the bench.

Dany hadn’t seen the famous knight in a week, as business had taken him to a small village in the Velvet Hills, but it seemed he'd hurried to make it back in time for her wedding. She did not know much about Dothraki weddings but she did know there was not an escort of the bride, and her greatest sadness was that he would not get to walk her to her future husband. “I am glad you were able to make it back in time Ser. I had feared you would miss us.” She patted the spot next to her, and he sat back down. 

“Nothing would have kept me away, Princess.” Arthur returned “While I know this is not the marriage you envisioned, or in fact wanted, I have heard many things of Khal Drogo, and I believe he will be a fair husband. Many Dothraki Khals seem to have had multiple Khaleesi, but Drogo has only taken one before, and seemed faithful to her. Had she not been killed by a fever, you’d be saved from this fate.”

Dany was surprised her future husband seemed to respect women and marriage, and if Arthur was right that it would make her life easier. “I thank you for trying to ease my heart. What are your plans for after the wedding? Will you come with the khalasar? I would take you as my sworn sword, like Viserys has Ser Jorah, if it pleased you?”

Arthur started at Jorah’s name. “Jorah? Jorah Mormont? Is he here?”

“Yes Mormont is his name. He offered Viserys his sword the night I met Drogo and has been at the manse ever since.” She looked at his face as many emotions crossed it. “What of him? Did you know him? From before?”

“I did. I knew his cousin even better. I met Lady Dacey and Jorah in the tournament at Harrenhal. Even competing against him in melee, he wasn’t a knight then, but he was decent with a sword. Dacey was one of the strong women of Bear Island, and had a kind heart. She helped me with something and I never was able to reciprocate the favor. Lyanna counted her amongst her truest friends.” He finished quietly. His handsome face had aged again with his sadness, as it always did when talking about Lady Lyanna and the year that followed that tournament. 

“Well if you accept my offer, you can renew your aquaintship with Ser Jorah and maybe he can tell you how his cousin fairs.” Dany said wanting to make him happy again. She hoped that he would accept her offer, and perhaps find some peace on the Great Grass Sea. Yet her words seemed to have the opposite effect on him. Arthur’s frown grew even more as he looked down at the paper in his hands. 

“You know how much I care for you Daenerys. No one could ever replace what I’ve lost in my heart, but you have carved out your own place as an almost daughter to me.” He waved the letter in his hand a bit, and looked at her with sad eyes. “My elder brother is not well, and has no heir. He has petitioned the Usurper to allow me to come back to Starfall and take up the mantle of Lord of Starfall, and it was granted. As much as I would like to stay here and keep you safe, I cannot. Too long have I run from my demons and ghosts; run from my duty. It is time I returned to Westeros and faced my family.” He went down on his knee again and took her hands. “You will always have my loyalty, and that of Dorne if you ever decide to come back for your throne. And you will always have a place of safety in my home. The Usurper will never know of my knowledge of you and I will do everything I can to keep his eyes from turning to you here.”

Dany could feel the tears welling in her eyes at the thought of losing such a loyal warrior and so true a friend. “If you have taught me anything over the years, it is that family trumps duty.  Your duty now coincides with your family. Feel no guilt or sadness for me Ser.” She stood and took his face between her hands. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us over the years. When a member of House Targaryen sits the Iron Throne once again, I’ll make sure we pay you back tenfold.” She leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead, before pulling him to his feet.

“What are you doing, you whore?!” rang from the entrance to her garden. Both she and Arthur looked towards a seething Viserys. “You jeopardize our alliance with the savages for this aged fool? You have woken the dragon sweet sister!” and he rushed towards her hand raised. Dany braced herself for the strike that would never come. She glanced up and saw Viserys lifted from the ground by Ser Arthur's hand around his throat. 

Dany could see why he had been known as the deadliest of her father’s kingsguard, if his speed in stopping her brother and the look of rage on his face was any indication. “If you ever raise your hand to your sister in my presence, or anyone else's and I find out, I can assure you, you will lose that hand, Your Grace . He said with a sneer. Viserys face was slowly turning purple and he was squeaking like a rat. Dany put her hand on Arthur’s shoulder, which caused the knight to release him. “You can’t threaten me, I AM THE KING!” Viserys wheezed at them both. Arthur just glared down at him, “You are no king of mine” he said before looking towards her and at her nod walked out of the gardens. Dany looked down at her trembling brother, “Ser Arthur was just asking me for his blessing to leave for Westeros, Brother, he will be here for the wedding and then take his leave. Nothing untoward has happened, ever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I shall retire to my chambers and prepare for tomorrow. Good day Brother.” and Dany hurried away before he could regain his feet.

Dany followed the same path Arthur had just taken, but turned towards the manse and headed to her room. The servants had started packing away the clothes and things she would take with her, so it felt empty. Laying on her bed, Dany finally allowed her thoughts to move towards the ceremony the next day. They would marry in the same fields they had met in, for the Dothraki believed that all moments of importance in a man’s life needed to take place beneath an open sky. There wasn’t much of an official joining, it would be more of a feast that lasted from dawn to dusk. Illyrio had told her that everyone of importance would present gifts to the Khal and his new Khaleesi, amidst combat displays, dancing, and other lusty affairs.  

Dany wouldn’t deny that part of her was excited to finally be going on an adventure. Her entire life she had been subjected to her brother’s whims and demands, but after tomorrow, she would be the Khaleesi, and her words would matter more than his. She was nervous for the bedding, what maiden wouldn’t be, but with Arthur’s words assuring her that the Khal might not be as savage as her brother had her believe, and her freedom from under her brother’s thumb, she felt she could bare the pain and awkwardness, it would be worth it to finally have some control over her life.

Laying there, Dany found her thoughts drifting back to her dream, replaying the few words they’d said and the kiss they’d shared. It had felt so real, she could still feel his hands on her waist, and his lips on hers. She knew past Targaryen’s had prophetic dreams, dragon dreams they were called, and she wondered if this was one of them. Dany wasn’t particularly religious and had never asked the gods for anything, yet she couldn’t help but wonder if they were giving her a gift willingly. Telling her that this person, this boy was important to her future. 

She lay there with her thoughts and memories of a life lived and one that would start anew tomorrow, as the sun began to set. Looking out the window as the last rays faded from view, she rolled over and hugged her pillow to herself and closed her eyes. Her handmaidens would arrive before the sun to dress her and they would leave for the outskirts as it rose to begin a long day. She wanted to sleep, partially in hope that her Wolf would make another appearance, yet she also knew if she saw him, her resolve to attend tomorrow with a smile on her face, might weaken. Yet when she does finally drift off, it’s not the boy's face that greets her, but his star form, those deep purple eyes, twinkling from the heavens. 

The Next Day.

Time had begun to slow, as they went on the fifth hour of drinking, fighting, and feasting. Dany had been surprised, when they arrived that morning, at the makeshift dias erected in front of the entire Dothraki camp. Pleasantly shocked when she realized it was just for herself and Drogo, and Viserys would be relegated to a table below her for once. She could see her brother had not been pleased, but both Illyrio and Ser Jorah must’ve cautioned him against an outburst. So he sat in his seat and simmered in his rage, as he was offered the leftovers from the high table and watched with disgusted eyes as the Dothraki commenced with their wedding festivities. 

When Ser Jorah had sad that a Dothraki wedding was a lively affair, he’d failed to mention to her that death and sex would be a constant throughout the day. She’d already witnessed two men fight to the death over the pleasure of mounting a woman in front of their Khal; as well as multiple other fights and orgies. Illyrio had warned her that the Dothraki mated like animals, in full view of god and man. That they believed there was no sin or shame in such a base need. She couldn’t help but wonder if her own wedding night would be witnessed by the entire horde, but then she saw Arthur at one of the lower tables and remembered his words about her new husband. 

The gifts had been extravagant for a people who lived constantly on the move. Her brother had gifted her three handmaidens, each with a singular gift to acclimate her to this new culture. Irri and Jhiqui were both Dothraki, “Irri will teach you how to ride like the savages, and the other how to speak their tongue.” Her brother has said with a sneer. The third, Doreah, had a similar look to Dany herself, with pale blond hair and blue eyes. “This one, sweet sister, will teach you how to please your husband. She’s very good, I can personally attest, so follow her words and perhaps your husband won't treat you like a dog that the rest of the men do for their women.” 

From the various gathered magisters ,Dany had received jewels, silks, and tapestries. All useless on the move with the horde, but could be stored away for a future life in Westeros, when Viserys took back his throne. Ser Jorah had offered her some books from Westeros. Histories and songs of the Seven Kingdoms, and while the copies were old and worn, she knew she’d treasure them with all her heart.

 Arthur had gifted her a beautiful arakh he'd crafted to fit her petite size. “You know how to handle a Westerosi blade Princess, now it is time you learn the weapon of your people. Ser Jorah has assured me, he will see you trained with it.” He said as he laid the gift in her hands. She looked at the pommel and saw a small dragon's head at the end of the handle, and felt tears gather in her eyes. When the translator had relayed Arthur’s words to Drogo, the Khal had given him a rare smile, and nod, like he appreciated the knight's faith in his new wife, and allowed Dany to go and hug the man she saw as her father. “I have another gift for you, but Ser Jorah will pass it along to you when the time is right. I’m proud of you Dany, and remember you only need to find a ship to Dorne if you need me.” Arthur whispered in her ear as they embraced, before she turned back to her seat next to her husband.

 As she dried her tears, she saw Magister Illyrio stand and give a muttered command to the slave boy he’d brought from the manse, and moments later a beautiful chest inlaid with dragons and wrapped in bronze was laid at the base of the dias. At Drogo’s nod, she made her way down and knelt before the chest and slowly lifted the heavy lid. Inside she found mounds of silk and velvet, rich fabrics found from all over Essos, and nestled inside them were three large eggs. Dany couldn’t help but gasp as she admired the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. Each was covered in fine little scales and seemed to glow like jewels. The largest was black as midnight yet seemed to dance with scarlet waves. The other two were of a similar size, one was a deep jade with bronze accents and the other a pearly white with gold flecks. She picked up the black one and instantly felt her fingers come alive with warmth. It was heavier than she expected, like it was made of stone, yet she was sure she could feel life radiating out of it. 

“What is it?” She muttered to the magister, so entranced with her gift.

“Dragon’s eggs from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The eons have turned them to stone, yet still they burn bright and beautiful. A fitting bride’s gift for a Targaryen Princess.” Illyrio announced proudly.  “I shall treasure them always. Thank you magister.” Dany replied as she placed the egg back in it’s nest and closed the chest.

The final gift came from Drogo, as was tradition. A hush flew over the camp as he led the most beautiful horse she’d ever seen to her. She was grey, but not an ordinary grey, but like a storm cloud, it reminded her of the grey that outlined her Wolf’s dark purple eyes. Her mane was of a lighter silver like color, and as she wound her fingers through the silky strands she heard her husband grunt some words in Dothraki. “The Khal says silver, like your hair Khaleesi” The translator relayed. 

“She is beautiful, please tell him thank you.” Dany said as she looked up into Drogo’s dark eyes. 

“She is the pride of the Khalasar, Daenerys” Illyrio said as they started tacking up her horse. “Tradition says that the Khaleesi must ride a mount worthy of being by the side of the Great Khal.” 

Drogo came forward and placed her in the saddle as if she was a small child, and handed her the reins. “You must now ride Khaleesi, to show them you are strong enough to bear a son and ride with your Khal.” Jorah said as she looked around at all the familiar and strange faces surrounding her. Dany knew how to ride. Arthur had taught her as a girl and when they had come to Pentos, Illyrio had let her have access to the stable. So with a touch of her knees and a small click of her tongue she was off.

The mare moved with a smooth and silky gait, and Dany found herself moving faster than she’d ever had before. The crowds had parted to witness the Khaleesi’s First Ride and she was happy to see smiles among the serious faces. The horse moved so fast she felt as though she was flying. Flying on the back of a dragon, like what might have been in her eggs eons ago. She felt wild, she felt free, she felt like a Khaleesi. As she made her way back to the Khal, she reined in right next to where he stood and looked at him “Please Magister tell him he has given me the wind and freedom.” Illyrio passed along her message and she saw Drogo smile again. 

As the sun went down, Drogo mounted his horse next, a huge red stallion that Dany thought reminded her of him, like her mare seemed to symbolize her. He clicked his tongue at the horse and steered it away from the wedding party. Viserys suddenly appeared next to her feet. “Please him. If you can. Or you’ll see the dragon awoken like never before.” and drunkenly wandered off.  Dany looked over to where Ser Arthur stood, a bit off from the group. He gave her a deep bow, and nodded in the direction of the Bay of Pentos, so she knew he’d be gone the next day. She nodded back at him and turned her mare in the direction Drogo had taken and nudged her with her heels to follow.

 Afterward she could not say how far or how long they had ridden, but it was completely dark when they stopped at a grassy place beside a small stream. Drogo swung off his horse and lifted her down from hers. She felt small in his hands, but seeing the desire in his eyes, she felt her strength as well.

Khal Drogo stared at her face for a long time, long enough that Dany started to feel uncomfortable as his face seemed strangely empty of expression. 

"No," he said. He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek with a calloused thumb.

"You speak the Common Tongue," Dany said in wonder. The magister had made her believe he knew none.

"No," he said again. Drogo touched her hair lightly, sliding the silver-blond strands between his fingers and murmuring softly in Dothraki. Dany did not understand the words, yet there was warmth in the tone, a tenderness she had never expected from this man.

He put his finger under her chin and lifted her head, so she was looking up into his eyes. Drogo towered over her as he towered over everyone. Taking her lightly under the arms, he lifted her and seated her on a rounded rock beside the stream. Then he sat on the ground facing her, legs crossed beneath him, their faces finally at a height. "No," he said.

"Is that the only word you know?" she asked him. Drogo did not reply. His long heavy braid was coiled in the dirt beside him. He pulled it over his right shoulder and gestured towards it and then to her. Slowly, carefully, she began to undo his braid. It took a long time. All the while he sat there silently, watching her. When she was done, he shook his head, and his hair spread out behind him like a river of darkness, oiled and gleaming. She had never seen hair so long, so black, so thick.

Then it was his turn. He stood and began to undress her. His fingers were strangely tender. He removed her silks one by one, carefully, while Dany sat unmoving, silent, looking at his eyes. When he bared her small breasts, she could not help herself. She averted her eyes and covered herself with her hands. "No," Drogo said. He pulled her hands away from her breasts, gently but firmly, then lifted her face again to make her look at him. "No," he repeated. And like an Essoi parrot, "No," she echoed back at him.

He stood her up then and pulled her close to remove the last of her silks, and stood back to look at her. After a while he began to touch her. Lightly at first, then harder. She could feel how strong he was, but something told her that he could never hurt her. He stroked her face, tracing the curve of her ears, running a finger gently around her mouth. He put both hands in her hair and combed it with his fingers. 

It seemed as if hours passed before his hands finally went to her breasts. He stroked the soft skin underneath until it tingled. Dany could feel how flushed and breathless she was, her heart fluttering in her chest, like after her Wolf had kissed her. Thinking of him made her sad, how she wished it was him making her feel like this. Yet it was Drogo who stood in front of her, gently stroking her skin like she was precious. He cupped her face in his huge hands and Dany looked up into his eyes. "No?" he said, and she finally understood. It had been a question all along. Dany looked down at her naked body and once again those grey-purple eyes flashed through her mind, and she felt her body flush again, and a heat pool in her belly. Looking back up again she took his hand and moved it down to the wetness between her thighs. "Yes," she whispered.

Chapter Text

Thinking back on that morning in front of the entire court, Jaime was not sure what had motivated him to take Jon as his squire. Sure he thought he was talented, and would make a great squire, but as he’d told Tyrion he deserved better than the Kingslayer. He’d gone in assuming if Jon asked to go South, Barristan would be the one to volunteer. Yet when it seemed like everything was going to go as planned, and Robert had allowed for a Kingsguard to speak up, the room had stayed silent. Barristan had looked at him like he expected it to be him who spoke for the boy, and when he’d silently implored him, had shrugged him off and looked towards the slowly wilting Jon Snow.

Maybe that was what had inspired his impulsive move. Jaime had looked into Jon’s eyes and seen a very familiar feeling. One he himself had felt multiple times. Abandonment. He’d felt it his entire life. By his father, his friends, even his brothers of the Kingsguard. It had taken years of sarcasm and defensiveness to toughen his skin against the feeling of being alone and against the world. And here was this boy, who’d already lived a tougher life than Jaime, and somehow still saw good in the world. Standing there, Jaime could see his fire starting to go out as the silence dragged on and knew he couldn’t let that happen, and he’d stepped forward.

He could see the pride in Tyrion’s eyes as Cersei had granted her approval, and Barristan also seemed happy with his choice. Jaime had a feeling they may have conspired against him to set up these events. The rest of the Kingsguard had given him sneering looks as they resumed their posts, and Ned Stark had rage in his eyes as he stalked from the room. The rest of the Stark children were gathered around their brother congratulating him with hugs and laughter, and Jaime could see the fire back in his squires eyes, and the first true smile he’d seen on his face since they had met that first night in Winterfell.

“I’m proud of you Ser Jaime. I foresee great things in that boy's future and it all begins with you today.” Ser Barristan had come over to him and clapped him on the back. “Take the rest of the day off. Get to know him a bit more and prepare him for his new life.” We’ll be back on normal rotation tomorrow so, make sure he knows where to be.”

“I will, Lord Commander, thank you.” Selmy nodded and left to follow the King back to his chambers. “Jon.” He called out as he moved to leave the room.

“Yes, Ser Jaime?” He responded, the grin still on his face as his youngest sister crawled up his back.

“You have the rest of the morning to celebrate. This afternoon I expect you in my chambers and we go over what is expected of you, and you better start packing, we head South in less than a week.”

“Of course, thank you Ser.” Jon gave him a nod of his head and went to try and remove the sister as the siblings made to leave the room.

Jaime headed to his own room to remove his armor and wait for the inevitable appearance of his brother. He’d barely taken a sip of his wine, before he heard the knock at the door. “Come in Tyrion.” he called and poured a second glass of wine.

“How did you know it was me?” His brother waddled in and hoisted himself into the chair next to his, gladly accepting his offer of drink.

“Well after that display this morning, I figured you'd want to gloat. How did you convince Barristan to let me ruin the boy?” He joked while taking another sip.

“Aw aw aw, dear brother you are now a teacher, you can not disparage yourself so publicly. And who says I had anything to do with it?”

Jaime chuckled. “The glee on your face was noticeable by anyone. I could practically feel your happiness radiating against my back as I knelt. So what did you do? Bribe him? Doesn’t sound like Selmy. Blackmail him? If that’s the case you’d better share your dirt.”

Tyrion’s face went serious and he put his wine glass down while eying him with those mismatched eyes of his. “I did none of those things, dear Brother, I merely told him a story about a brave knight who saved the capital from a mad king.”

Jaime dropped his own glass in shock, felt his anger growing at his brother's betrayal . “You did what?”

“Now Jaime, you’ve made a mess.” Tyrion looked up at him with a smirk that slowly fell off when he saw the anger in his face. “I’ve told you for years, you needed to tell him. It wasn’t fair to you, that he judged and treated you differently than everyone else. Not after what you did. They owe you everything, and it was time someone besides myself knows of it. If it helps, he believed me immediately and was extremely remorseful.”

Jaime felt the anger turning to shock. “He believed you?”

Tyrion laughed. “Of course he believed me! I’ve told you for years that people would! There wasn’t a soul in King’s Landing that didn’t know of Aery’s madness.” Tyrion sobered before continuing. “I think his anger stemmed from what happened to Elia and the children. I told him that you regretted not being there to save them, but that you had to make a choice between three and thousands. Barristan understood.” Tyrion paused and took another sip of his wine before continuing. “He also agreed that you were the right choice for this job.”

Jaime fell back into his chair, he couldn’t deny that part of him felt relieved that Barristan finally knew. “I’ll forgive you. Just this once though, Tyrion. Do not repeat that story again, or I’ll forget you are my brother.” He said coldly and reached down to pick up the empty glass and refill it.

To Tyrion’s benefit, Jaime saw shame cross his face. “I only want what is best for you, Jaime, and I am sorry for betraying your trust. Something just told me that you needed this opportunity and I did whatever I needed to do to make it so.”

“It’s done. In the past.” Jaime responded, looking to move the conversation elsewhere. “What are your plans when we return south? Are you heading back to the Rock or elsewhere?”

“I haven’t decided to be honest, part of me wants to head further North, I’ve always wanted to see the Wall. Although with our new addition, I might put it off and head back to the capital with you; what are your thoughts?”

Jaime paused for a moment. “I’d like you to stay in King’s Landing, at least at first. Jon will need all the friends he has, while adjusting to Court as well as the South. I can teach him everything about using a sword and being a knight, but only you can teach him the politics this position will subject him to.”

Tyrion seemed to grow a bit emotional at his words. “I am honored you trust me enough to help him, whatever you need, brother. I am at your disposal.”

“Good, I’ll speak to Father, I’m sure he will agree. Jon represents the Lannisters now, we will all make sure he succeeds.”

Tyrion chuckled while reaching for the carafe. “Where is your squire, shouldn’t he be here pouring this for me?”

“I gave him some time to celebrate with his own siblings. He deserved a little happiness, after that stunt you and Barristan pulled. I’ve never seen a more dejected face than his in that silence.”

Tyrion started to respond but was interrupted by a knock at his door. “Come in” Jaime called and wasn’t surprised to see Jon already there, despite him having the morning to do as he pleased.

“I apologize if I’m early Ser Jaime, but I’m ready to begin whenever you are ready.” Jon said quietly while looking at his boots. The genuine happiness Jaime had witnessed that morning was gone, and the brooding boy appeared to be back. Something had happened since he’d left them that morning, Jaime would bet the mines of Casterly Rock on it. He looked over at Tyrion and saw his brother had also come to the same conclusion, and hopped from his chair.

“Promptness is a good trait for a squire to have Jon, and I have many things to do to prepare for our departure. I’ll take my leave of you brother and let you both begin your training.” He gave a small bow of his head towards Jaime and on his way past Jon, a pat on the back, before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Jaime gestured towards the seat Tyrion had just emptied and poured the boy a glass of wine as well. “He is right, promptness is very important in a squire, and we will go over more of what is expected of you in a bit, but first I think we should begin with what is most important in knight and squire relationship. Honesty and trust”

Jon had accepted the glass as he sat but was still looking at the floor, but at his words his eyes had shot up to meet his own. “I’ve never lied to you, Ser. That is not my way I can assure you.” He all but rushed, like he was afraid Jaime was going to snatch away his offer.

“No no, my boy, I am not accusing you of anything. Just letting you know what I expect, especially when I ask my next question. Why are you really here so early, I thought for sure you’d want to celebrate with your sisters and brothers?”

Jon’s whole posture changed with his question. His eyes were darting back and forth and he seemed skittish, reminding Jaime of a beaten dog. “My siblings had other things to do, the girls their lessons, and Lord Stark required my brothers.”

“Why weren’t you invited along? I would think your father would be proud of you after this morning.”

“Because I'm a bastard Ser. Lord Stark has never once found a reason to be proud of me, I doubt he’d start now when I completely disregarded his expectations of me.” Jon snapped back at him, confirming his bitter relationship with their host.

Jaime was relieved to see some of his skittishness evaporate and be replaced with anger. He would need that backbone in King’s Landing. He leaned back in his chair and smiled at him. “Now for lesson two. From now on Jon you are no longer just the Bastard of Winterfell. You will be known as a Kingsguard’s squire. That is a very important title. You will be set above any other squire at Court, unless Ser Barristan finds someone to take on, and all other squires in the Kingdoms. Add in that you are to now represent House Lannister, all eyes will be on you in the coming moons. It is time to hold your head high and stop thinking of yourself as ‘just a bastard’. Lannisters are lions and we have pride, you need to gain some yourself.”

Jaime paused and looked at him to see if his words were affecting him and he saw Jon straighten in his chair and meet his eyes as he gave him a nod. The fire he had witnessed in them back in the King’s solar was back.

“Now that we have that part out of the way. I’d like to know what you think a squire does and we will go on from there.”

“I got a book from the library last night, once I decided to ask for this opportunity, and did a little reading and wrote some notes.” Jon started and reached into his pocket to pull out a piece of parchment. “It said my main job is to be almost like a steward. Cleaning and keeping track of your armour, when you are not wearing it. Taking letters, attending you in meetings, keeping your chambers or tent cleaned, cooking meals when we are on the road. Take care of your horse both on and off the battlefield. I’ve already started that job.” He finished with a smirk.

Jaime was happy to see he seemed dedicated to his new position. “All of that is true, and a pretty good summary of what is expected of you. While not important in the near future, you will also be tasked with joining me at tournaments, you can even compete if you like. There is a whole other list of duties should we go to war, but Gods be good that doesn’t happen anytime soon.” Jaime paused to take a sip of his drink and saw Jon do the same. “That is what a normal squire would do, but you also have the arduous task of being a Kingsguard’s squire which comes with it’s own list of responsibilities. When we are at the Red Keep, and I am on duty, you will have to check in on the hour to see I require anything. On the road you will also act as another line of defense when guarding the Royal family. This comes back to trust. You will see and hear many things. They must never be shared with anyone. Many will try and buy your eyes and ears, and they must never be anyone’s but your own, and on occasion, mine. Is that understood?”

“Of course Ser Jaime.” Jon nodded quickly.

“Now as far as the Royal family goes, I primarily guard the Princesses. On occasion their brother, but mainy Cassana and Joanna. Have you met them?”

“No Ser, Lord Stark did not feel the bastard fit enough to meet them.”

“No.” Jaime snapped. “What did I just tell you?”

“I am sorry Ser.” Jon shrank back, almost afraid, like expecting a blow. Jaime quieted, leaning forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Here is my first order to my squire, I never want you to use that word in my presence again. Understood?”

“Yes Ser Jaime, I’ll try. That might be the most difficult task you’ve set for me. My entire life has been defined by being the stain on Lord Stark’s honor.”

“Why do you do that?” Jaime interrupted him. “In our moon here, you have never once referred to Ned Stark as your father. It is always ‘My Lord’ or “Lord Stark. Why is that. Even Tyrion refers to ours as ‘Father’ and their relationship is defined as strained at best.”

Jon just looked at him. Jaime could see a storm brewing in his grey-purple eyes, and he made a note to ask him about his mother later, before he seemed to decide and stood from his chair.

“For the sake of being honest and establishing trust. May I show you something?” Jaime nodded and felt a knot start to form in his stomach, when he started to pull his shirt from his trousers. Lifting it up, and turning so that his back was now facing him, Jaime felt the knot give way to deep nausea at the scars that lined his back. Some were clearly old, and others were still slightly pink. The one thing they all had in common was that they were clearly all deep.

Still facing away from him, Jon slowly lowered his shirt and tucked it back in. “The first time I received this punishment was when I was eight for riding a horse well. The most recent was about a year ago, because Lord Stark heard me refer to him as my father to a servant. That day, I swore I’d never refer to him as such again. Sometimes with my siblings it is required of me to keep peace between us, they are unaware of this part of my relationship with their father, and once a few moons ago, I let it slip to his face in a panic, but instead of the beating, I was exiled to the Wall; to leave as soon as possible. I would have gladly taken the whip, in exchange for freedom from that icy prison, but that was not to be. Not then at least.”

He turned back to face him and Jaime could once again see the fire in his eyes. “The Gods had a different plan in mind. So never doubt Ser Jaime my loyalty to you, or that you can trust me. Because even if you beat me or starve me. It can’t get any worse than the man whose blood I carry doing the same, and I’ve remained loyal to him for fourteen years. You’ve given me my dream, I imagine that has bought my loyalty for life”

Jaime sat there, shocked and sick, thinking of the pain and trauma this boy had gone through over what? Being born a bastard? He didn’t force Ned Stark to dip his wick outside his wife’s well. “Why? Why does he hate you so?”

The boy shrugged and looked past him to stare at the wall. “I imagine my mother has something to do with it.”

“Do you know of her?”

“Nothing besides her being dead. My old nurse, Wylla, said she died giving birth to me.”

“Where is this Wylla? Is she here? Would she like to come south as well?”

Jaime saw his eyes fill with grief and realized this was just another hurt he’d lived through. “She died, a few weeks before you arrived actually. Her heart gave out.” Jon responded in a gravelly voice and looked back down at his boots.

Jaime placed his cup on the table and stood and walked carefully over to where he stood. He felt like he was trying to help a wounded animal, as the boy took a small step back before standing firm again. Hands out in front of him Jaime laid them on Jon’s shoulders and felt the slight tremble. He was only about a head shorter than Jaime, another few years and he might actually tower over him, and when he looked up Jaime could see fear, not of physical pain, but of rejection. Like he was bracing himself for the storm.

“I do not have words enough to say I’m sorry for the life you have lived, and the grief that seems to plague it. I can tell you, you will never have fear of anyone striking you in anything outside of self defense again. You are under my protection as much as the Royal family is.” Jaime stood back straight and allowed his hands to fall to his side, before speaking again. “My second demand of my squire. If anyone, I do not care even if it is Lord Stark, hits you again out of anger, you will tell me. Understood?”

Jon finally looked up at him and nodded slowly before lowering his eyes back again to the floor.

“Now, why don’t we leave this stuffy room and really start showing you the crazy life you have so willingly volunteered for.” Jaime said with a smile, trying to lighten the thick tension that had filled the room. Jon gave him a small smile and moved to grab his cloak. “Jon, thank you.” At the boy’s confused look, he continued. “For trusting me enough to tell me this. I hope to return the favor one day.”

The boy’s smile grew a bit and he nodded before heading to the door and opening it. “After you Ser Jaime.”

The rest of the day Jaime spent introducing Jon to key members of the court, who had travelled North with them, and showing him how to keep, clean and attach his armor. They stopped off at the stables and he reintroduced him to Leo. He seemed to have taken to Jon, and Jaime was happy to know his horse would be happy as well with this appointment. After the stables they went to the smith and had Jon’s sword sharpened. The encounter with the bear had proven how woefully inadequate it would be in an attack, and Jaime was specific that it be sharpened to the same point that his own was. It wasn’t the greatest blade, but there wasn’t time to have another one made, so Jaime made a mental note to have one commissioned when they got back to the Capital.

Their final task of the day was to introduce him officially to the Royal family. Being a squire to a Kingsguard meant that he would be in constant contact with them and they all needed to be as comfortable with each other as they could. Cersei and Robert both seemed pleased with this newest development, Robert because it was his best friend’s son, and Cersei because he’d saved HER son, and were welcoming and engaging. Jon even surprised him with his easy answers and smiles. He’d assumed the boy would be quiet and awkward, but by the end everyone in the room seemed charmed by his squire,especially Joanna and Cassana. The twins and Jon were the same age, and one would be his goodsister one day, so Jaime was happy that they all seemed to get along and his nieces would have another protector.

His biggest worry had been Joffrey. He’d always been spoiled and jealous when others got attention, but as they left the audience with the rest of his family, Joff had followed them out the door. “Uncle, if I might have a word with your squire?”

Jaime felt his nerves grow, but bowed and said “Of course, Your Grace.”

Jon also seemed a bit uncomfortable but followed his lead and bowed before Joffrey gave him to leave to straighten. “I know my father thanked you for all of us this morning, but I would like to again offer my appreciation to you for saving my life. There are not many men who would jump in front of such a monster, for anyone, and yet you did for me. So thank you again Jon Snow.”

Jaime couldn’t hide the shock on his face, but Jon’s face broke into a small smile. “It was an honor Your Grace” he said as he dipped his head towards his nephew.

Joffrey seemed to want to say something else, shifting from one foot to the other, looking between the two of them, however it was Jon who continued. “Perhaps, Your Grace, we can spar with each other soon? I’m losing my normal sparring partner, my brother, so if it pleases you, maybe we could teach each other?”

Jaime saw his nephew smile, a real smile, not the cruel sneer he was used to. “I would like that Jon, from what I’ve heard and seen you are very good. We need more men like you in the Capital” and with another nod towards himself, Joffrey excused himself and went back into the solar that housed the rest of his family. Jaime turned towards Jon and gave him a bewildered look.

“Are you a wizard Jon Snow? A god?” At his confused look Jaime continued. “I’ve never seen my nephew compliment anyone, that he didn’t want something from.”

Jon smiled at him “But Ser Jaime, he does want something from me? My talent.”

Jaime laughed at his cheek, and gave him a nod towards the stairs. “Right you are. Get some rest, tomorrow the real fun begins.”

Jon gave him a mocking bow and turned and headed down the stairs, while Jaime turned towards his own room. “Gods be damned Tyrion and his ability to always be right” He thought as he closed the door.

Chapter Text

Dany III

She was flying on the back of the great black dragon that had appeared in her dreams since her wedding night. His scarlet eyes seemed to stare into her soul when she looked into them and filled Dany with a sense of peace, and at the same time inflamed her soul. Normally when they flew in her dreams, she flew over sand covered dunes and saw great pyramids and largy harpys. She saw the great grass seas that the Dothraki called home, but today was different, the lands below her were unlike any she had ever seen. 

Dark green trees that bore needles instead of leaves, hills covered in grass and in some places, snow. The air spilled fresh and clean and in the distance she saw a large castle, big enough to make Illyrio’s manse look like a shack. Two walls surround multiple courtyards and buildings including a large keep and a tower that appeared to be broken. The broken tower was where her dragon decided to land, and Dany looked around the people in the yard.

She smiled when she saw her Wolf once again in his human form. He was sparring with a skinny golden haired boy, and they were surrounded by other men and boys as they watched. The Wolf's skills were clearly much better than the boy he was fighting, but he kept a patient smile on his face as he showed the boy how to hold his wooden sword higher to block his incoming swings, and gave him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder when he got it right, as the crowd around them applauded. 

Dany took some time to really look at those around. She saw an auburn haired boy take the place of the golden haired one, and he and her Wolf started sparring with much more skill. There were two older men off to the side observing, both wearing the same armour. One had short golden hair and was younger than he fellow knight, who had white hair and wrinkles on his face determining his age.  They seemed to be discussing the skills being shown in the spar and were pleased with what they saw. 

Her eyes moved around and took note of many people watching and smiling as the two boys continued to hack at each other with the wooden swords, until they finally landed on a young woman standing off to the side in front of a door. The lady had long curly brown hair that went to her lower back and her grey eyes were tracking her Wolf as much as Dany’s had been, and she wore a dark purple dress. Dany found herself mesmerized with the lady who continued to stare into the sparring yard and suddenly tears appeared in her eyes, as her hand played with a locket at her throat. Dany found herself staring at her even closer, trying to figure out why she looked so familiar, when the lady’s eyes swept to her own. “Welcome to Winterfell, Daenerys Targaryen.” The lady said in a quiet voice and even across the yard and up on a tower, Dany could hear perfectly. “This may be your first trip here, but it will not be your last. Stay strong Dany, for you have a destiny to fulfil, and it all begins here, with him.” At her last words, the lady nodded back to her Wolf, before she disappeared. 

Dany couldn’t stifle the gasp, and suddenly her Wolf was looking up towards her as well. His eyes had widened in shock as he took a step forward towards her tower. “Dany?” she heard him say, as his eyes searched, before his sparring partner tapped him with the blade taking his back his focus.  

“Khaleesi” Dany heard from behind her and turned to look over the walls of Winterfell, closing her eyes in resignation. 

“Khaleesi, it is time to wake up.” She heard again, and Dany opened her eyes. No longer was she in the cool fresh air of the North of Westeros, but back in her tent in the Dothraki camp. Doreah was looking down at her and had the now normal cup of moontea. As she sipped it Dany reminisced on that first morning after her wedding. She and Drogo had come back to camp, and she was left in her tent, in the hands of her new handmaidens. She found a hot bath ready for her which helped relieve the ache between her thighs and fresh clothes in the dothraki style waiting to dress her. 

After she had dressed, Doreah told her Ser Jorah was requesting an audience, which she granted, and Dany dismissed Irri and Jhiqui , and sat in a chair to wait for the knight to appear. A few minutes later, Jorah came through the tent’s opening, carrying a small chest colored purple with stars on it. “Khaleesi, Ser Arthur entrusted this with me, and instructed that it be given to you this morning, along with this letter to explain things to you.” And he handed her the sealed parchment, after placing the chest at her feet. 

Opening the parchment, Dany felt her eyes fill at his words

My dear Dany,

If you are reading this, then Ser Jorah has presented you with my second gift. Inside the chest you will find enough moontea to last for a year. You have had so many decisions made for you in your life, you don’t deserve to be made into a broodmare, so my gift is to leave the decision in your hands. Stop taking it when you are ready to be a mother, not because it is expected of you, but because YOU want a child. Ser Jorah knows to get you more when you need it, and has sworn to keep your secret from everyone, but most especially your brother. Between us, I believe Mormont has also started to see your worthiness for the throne. He will also make sure any word you need to get to me, will find its way to Starfall. Your handmaiden, the Lyseni, is also in your employ solely and will make sure the drink is made for you every morning for as long as you need. You can trust her with your secrets, for you alone hold her loyalty.

Words cannot not express how proud I am of your bravery and positivity today. Many would wallow in anger or sadness, but you portrayed yourself as the queen I know you will one day be. You are Daenerys Targaryen, and regardless of your brother’s claims, you are the last dragon, and one day I hope to offer you my sword, when you return to claim your throne. Should you need anything, you only need to ask.

Forever yours,

Arthur Dayne

Dany slowly folded the letter back and looked up at the knight and her handmaiden. “He says you are both aware of what this gift entails?”

“Yes, Khaleesi, Ser Arthur was actually the one who sent me your brother’s way, in order to help you with your journey. I haven’t known you long, but I can already see that you are a better person than him, so I am loyal to you.” Doreah responded while kneeling before her

Ser Jorah had also gone to a knee in front of her and was holding out his sword. “I swore my sword to House Targaryen, not to your brother. I will keep your secrets my queen, whatever they entail.” Dany looked between them both “Good” was all she said, before instructing Doreah to prepare her first cup. As she was sipping the drink, she dismissed Jorah and invited Doreah to sit with her, and tell her life’s story. 

Her handmaiden looked at her surprised, before beginning her tale. “I was sold to a pleasure house in Lys when I was nine Khlaeesi. There I learned under my madam, the art of seducing men, and giving pleasure, and after my training she sold me, still a maid of fifteen, to a new pleasure house in Pentos. Our look Khaleesi,” She paused and gestured to their similar silver blond hair “made me very valuable to my new master and with that value I was given a better life than most bed slaves. The best rooms, gowns, and food. I also was given some freedom, for only the richest could afford a night with me, so I was treated more delicately. Allowed to go to markets and revels. Men bought me for more than my body, they bought me for my companionship.” At Dany’s skeptical eyebrow, the girl laughed” Do not get me wrong Khaleesi, they bought my body as well, but most of them wanted more than just to use me for what was between my legs. Some of them even wanted me to feel pleasure as well. The marriage bed is not just a duty Khaleesi, it can be enjoyed as well” 

Dany gave her a long look. The memory of the night before coming back. It had hurt some, as expected of a maid, yet she remembered a feeling of heat, that while never quenched, had felt good. “Could you teach me? How to enjoy it?”

“Yes Khaleesi, it is why your brother brought me into your service, at least that is what Ser Arthur wanted him to believe.”

“How did you meet him? Ser Arthur I mean?” Dany asked, hoping her surrogate father hadn’t been one of her clients.

Doreah laughed. “Nothing untoward Khaleesi. I came across the great knight in one of the markets over a year ago. He saved me from a thief actually. He was a gallant man and we met several times in passing and he always asked after me and I guess you could say we were friends.” Doreah shrugged and looked down at the small purple chest. “We met again a few weeks before your wedding and he looked sad, told me how the girl he saw as a daughter was being sold to a Dothraki Khal, and he wanted to help her. Something made me want to help him, and I’ve always wanted to go on an adventure, so I offered to be a handmaiden. Ser Arthur put me in your brother’s way, and here I am”

Dany once again felt her eyes tear at the thought of her surrogate father. “I am glad to have you here, for more than a handmaiden, but as a friend. Thank you”

Doreah just nodded her head with a sweet smile and took the cup from her hand, and with that Dany prepared to start her first day as a Khaleesi.

And so almost a moon had passed since her wedding and Dany quickly found herself acclimating to life in the Dothraki camp. Her days were pretty much the same, riding to the next camp spot with the rest of the horde. Sometimes in breaks, Ser Jorah would train her with the arakh, Arthur had also gifted her. Dany soon realized how much she loved her new weapon and prefered the dance-like motions it took to wield it. It was lighter than her old short sword despite the slightly longer blade, and Ser Jorah proved a good teacher. Whenever she would feel discouraged, Dany would look at the dragon on the hilt and remember the black and crimson beast of her dreams and feel the fire burn through her again. 

The rest of her time was split between learning to ride her silver mare in the Dothraki style, with Irri, and learning the language with Jhiqui. Dothraki was a rough, harsh language, but Dany found herself picking it up quickly. Some words were very similar to low Valayrian, almost like they had borrowed them along their travels, and Jhiqui was a patient teacher. Many days were spent on horse back in the company of her handmaidens as she and Doreah both learned the language. The horse riding came even more naturally, Ser Arthur’s teaching shining through again. 

Her Wolf was never far from her thoughts, her dreams, and especially her marriage bed. Dany rarely saw her husband during the day. She spent her days meeting members of the horde, bonding with her handmaidens, and talking to Ser Jorah about Westeros, while Drogo stayed towards the front with his bloodriders. Yet without fail, after the camp was set up and supper eaten, he would show up at her tent's door. Every night he asked her consent, playing the game of no once again, until Dany finally took the initiative.

 Doreah had been true to her word, and showed her how to find pleasure in her wifely duties. Her first lesson had been to always look Drogo in the eyes, for love came in at the eyes, but Dany found herself unable to follow that rule. Her husband was a handsome man, and he was gentle with his touch, but every time she looked into his black eyes, she saw grey-purple ones instead, and found herself closing her own. Imagining it was her Wolf she was making love to, imagining it was his voice muttering the Dothraki tongue in her ear, and it was to those thoughts, she finally found relief for that heat. At first she felt some guilt, for Drogo was always kind and thoughtful of her feelings, but after successive nights of blocking her Wolf’s face, and finding no pleasure, Dany imagined him again and found the relief she began craving, and the guilt stopped. Somehow Dany had fallen in love with the stranger who spent the night in her mind, and it was his face she saw as she drifted off to sleep at night. 

She was content in her new life, although she would trade it in a heartbeat to return to her home country. She was quickly learning to love the people and the freedom she felt from the back of her mare was unlike anything she could have expected. The one dark cloud on the horizon was her brother. Viserys had insisted on remaining with the Khalasar and everyone could see he was miserable; and with his misery, came his cruelty, and madness. 

Dany did her best to avoid him, not wanting to wake the dragon, but talk of his behavior was running rampant throughout the camp. Tantrums when food was not to his liking, snide comments after a long day's ride, and demeaning insults defined her brother’s reputation amongst the Khalasar. It wasn't until Doreah, who had appeared one morning with her moontea, with a hand shaped bruise around her throat, that things came to head. 

Seeing the abuse to her new friend, Dany finally understood what Viserys meant when he threatened to wake the dragon, for Dany’s own was coming to life. She sent Irri to have Ser Jorah bring her brother to her and walked over to where her dragon eggs lay in their bed of hot coals. The feelings of life inside them had only grown and her instincts were telling her they were more than stone. Every night she removed the eggs from their case and placed them in fire and as soon as the shells touched the heat, Dany swore she heard them singing to her. Even now, as she ran a finger over the black egg, she could feel it reacting to her anger, as if trying to protect her from inside the stone shells.

“How DARE you send my own sword to command me” came a cruel voice behind. “I AM YOUR KING! No one commands the dragon!” Viserys spat at her and grabbed her arm. “Do not think spreading your legs for the savage king, will protect you from waking the dragon.” His fingers were digging painfully in her arm, which only fanned the flame she was feeling in her heart. Looking to the side, she saw her arakh and felt her fingers curl around the handle. Using the knowledge imparted on her by Arthur, Dany brought the end of the handle against her brother’s head and watched as he crumpled to the ground. Viserys looked at her in shock as she brought the edge of the blade to his throat.

“If you ever touch my handmaidens or myself again, without our permission, it will be the last time you touch anyone. You are not the only dragon, brother, and at this moment, you cower before me!”  Dany snarled at the quivering man before her. She saw tears gathering in his eyes as they darted around the room, taking in the serious faces of her handmaidens and Ser Jorah, before meeting her own. Dany saw the fear giving way to a flame of madness, and firmed her grip on the arakh. 

“You forget yourself!” Viserys spat at her and scrambled to his feet. “When I take back my throne, you will rue this day sweet sister.”

“You are the one who forgets yourself DEAR brother. This is not your kingdom, it is MINE. Remember that, or I’ll make sure the Khal knows of your behavior.” Viserys gave her one last venomous look before leaving the tent. 

“Ser Arthur was right. You are the only dragon.” Ser Jorah smiled before giving her a small bow. “Well done my Queen, just take care to never be without your sword or a bloodrider. I don’t trust the beggar king.” 

“Duly noted Ser.” Dany said before dismissing everyone and putting her sword away and walking back to her dragon eggs and grabbing the black one off the coals. 

“Ser Arthur wasn’t completely right. There are three more dragons… and they will be here soon.” she thought as she cuddled the egg close.

Chapter Text

“Who’s Dany?”

Jon was startled by the voice of his brother as he looked up to the broken tower. Jon was sure he’d heard her voice and seen her eyes on the roof, while he’d spared with his brother. Even conceded the loss, because his brain had been so shocked at the thought of his dream girl being here at Winterfell. Yet when he looked up and saw no one he realized he must’ve imagined it. “Dany?” he tried to play ignorant, knowing if Robb knew of his growing feelings for an imaginary girl, he’d never hear the end of it.

Robb was staring at him with suspicious eyes “Yeah, you stopped and I swore I heard you whisper Dany, when I hit you.”

“Damn, I said Damn. I was distracted by a crow on the broken tower and realized you’d get the win.” Jon lied quickly trying to throw his brother off his scent.

“Hmmmm. Sure you did, Brother, keep your secrets then.” Robb said with his crooked grin. “Come on, you can’t have me beating you in front of the Kingsguard, or it’ll be me going South.”

Jon followed him back to the center of the yard and raised his sword again. Robb lunged forward with the first strike as always, but he easily deflected it. Robb’s weight was already moving forward, so he used it to land a series of hits and try to breach his defenses. But Jon was used to how his brother would rely on strength to overcompensate for his weaker footwork, and quickly parried the assault. Soon the yard began to sing the familiar song of steel against steel, a strange melody that consisted of grunts and groans, mixed with slams and thuds. Jon saw his brother was tiring and knew his opportunity was now. Jon quickly gave a little ground, to trick Robb into thinking his efforts were tiring him out, and just as he lunged forward, Jon quickly dodged to his right and hooked a boot behind Robb’s leg, sending him to his back, and the tip of Jon’s sword to his neck.

A look of annoyance flashed across Robb’s face, but was quickly replaced with a large grin and he yielded. Jon reached a hand down and helped him to his feet “Where did you learn a move like that, Snow?” He asked slightly out of breath.

Before Jon could answer, a voice called from across the yard. “My squire learns quickly, don't you think Lord Stark?” Ser Jaime who had been observing on the side with Ser Barristan, had joined them in the circle. “Although he could have used it sooner, and saved himself some trouble. Lesson number 24 for you; End the fight as fast as possible.”

Jon nodded and grinned at Ser Jaime. “I’ll make sure to add it to my list Ser.”

“See that you do.” Ser Jaime looked around at the bustle of the yard, as wagons and carts were being packed. “I don’t see your trunk in our cart, Jon are you packed?” Jon looked down at the ground with a sheepish look. “Not entirely Ser.”

Jaime just laughed at him and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “We leave early tomorrow, so why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon and finish up, then spend the rest with your family that is staying behind, yeah? You’ll see my face everyday, who knows when you’ll see your brothers again.”

“Thank you Ser Jaime, I’ll be at your door at the end of your shift to help with your armor.” Jon gave both knights a quick bow and followed Robb back to where they stored the sparring swords, before both of the boys headed towards Jon’s room to finish the packing. Robb and Ghost both flopped on the bed while Jon moved towards the trunk Jaime had made for him for the journey South. “How are things going for you? Is life as a squire everything you dreamed of?” Robb asked while absently petting the pup.

Jon thought for a second as he folded a tunic and laid it inside. “It’s even more than I imagined. It is hard work, but it is the type of work that at the end of the day, makes you feel good because you accomplished something.”

“And the Kingslayer?” Robb asked with a grin “Has he taught you how to break an oath yet?”

“Don’t call him that, he’s Ser Jaime.” Jon snapped “I may not know what happened that day, but in the few weeks I’ve known him, I cannot believe he would have taken such drastic action without cause. He is a good man, and he wants to teach me to be a good man.”

Robb held his hands up in submission. “Alright alright I’m sorry. I know he’s been good to you, I’m sorry for my teasing. You should, however, prepare yourself for comments like that all the time in the South. You may think him good, but the rest of the kingdom does not.”

Jon sighed and turned back to his folding. “I know, and I know if he can be calm about it, then so should I. But I owe him my life now Robb, shouldn’t I start with defending him?”

“Of course Jon, nobody will judge you for your loyalty, but try and keep a cool head in the capital. Thicken your skin brother as Ser Jaime does.”

“You’re right and I’ll try.” Jon walked over and took a seat next to the direwolf. “Enough about me.” He grinned at Robb. “Have you decided on a princess yet?”

Robb’s face reddened and he looked down at his fingernails as he mumbled “No”

“You forget that I was with Ser Jaime as he escorted them both with you. And I have my opinions. But tell me what are your feelings on the matter?”

“I don’t know what to feel. I’m almost fifteen so I know a wife is in the near future, but I didn’t think it would be something to decide now.”

Jon thought for a moment. “Do you want my help Robb?” at his brother’s nod he continued “Just tell me about them?”

Robb gave him an exasperated look “Fine. Ummm. They are both beautiful, obviously, as different as the sun and the moon, but beautiful….” Jon interrupted “Do not tell me of their looks, tell me about them?”

Robb gave him a confused look and continued. “Cassana is quiet, she reminds me of Sansa actually. A perfect lady. She sews and reads, and listens to the Septa. She’s very nice. They both are, and both have told me of their love for helping the poor of King’s Landing. Cassana says she likes to read to the children and make clothes for them. She’d be a good mother, and wife. She is the wife, my own mother would want me to have” He finished with a shrug.

“And the other?” Jon needled.

“Joanna is… Joanna.” Robb answered with a grin. “She is smart, and funny, and she likes when I tell her stories of our childhood. She loved the story of the ghost in the crypt, and told me of a time she and some of the orphan children played a trick on her sister.” Robb said with a laugh before looking off with a content smile. “We’ve only met a handful of times, yet I feel like she is already my friend. We have fun, and we laugh, and she’s beautiful Jon, not just on the outside, but on the inside as well.She’d make a great wife and mother as well.”

“Well Robb, I know nothing of women, or love, but from what you just told me and what I have seen from observing you with both, I don’t think you need to make a choice. I think your heart already made it for you.” Jon said with a smile “Cassana brought out Lord Stark’s son, Joanna brought out my brother.” Robb looked at him startled before his face reddened again to which Jon laughed. “If it helps, even Ser Jaime said the same, my advice? Write to her, get to know her even more, and make her feel special” he finished with a pat on his shoulder before standing to resume his packing.

“Jon, wait” Robb said as he grabbed his arm. “Thank you.” Jon turned back and quirked up an eyebrow. “For advice on your love life? It’s nothing.” He started to chuckle, before he realized Robb’s face had grown grave. “ Not just for the advice, but for everything you have done. For being my brother. I know your life hasn’t been easy here. Just as I know you have tried to hide it from me.” At his words, Jon felt the blood leave his face. “How?”

“The servants talk, Brother.” Robb said, giving him a grim look. “They tell stories of a kind boy, beaten by his father, but who still stays true to his siblings. Of a boy, who’s been starved, but never fails to share what he does have with those less fortunate.” With his words, Robb stood in front of him with his hands on his shoulders. “They tell stories of a boy I am proud to call my brother.”

Jon looked up at Robb at his words and saw sincerity written all over his face. “You may bear the name Snow, but you have the spirit of a Stark, Jon. I’m going to miss you so much around here.” and both boys simultaneously threw their arms around each other. Jon felt the tears overflowing and he could swear he felt the same on his shoulder. “You will always have a place in Winterfell, when I am it’s Lord. Don’t forget who you are, Jon” Robb whispered right before pulling away and walking out his door.

Jon sat back on his bed and let the tears flow, so caught up in his sadness, he missed the knock on his door, and its opening.

“Jon, have you seen my b….” Tyrion stopped and stared at him, before closing the door and coming to sit next to him. Jon tried to calm himself as he felt the small man patting his back awkwardly. “I’m sorry Lord Tyrion.”

“Nothing to apologize for my boy, we are human Jon, emotion is natural. Are these happy tears or sad tears?”

“Both? I am excited to come to the capital and continue to learn and become a man, but…”

“You are going to miss your brothers?” Tyrion interrupted, and at his nod continued. “I know something about being close to one’s sibling you know. Jaime and I have rarely spent more than a few moons in the same place since he took on the white cloak, and I was much younger than you when he left for the capital. Yet this is the sacrifice we make when we age, and become men. You are lucky that your brother will be a prominent Lord and your paths will cross regularly at court, and who knows maybe once you are knighted you can take one of the younger ones as your own squire.”

“And I’ll have my sisters with me.” Jon responded as he dried his eyes and moved back to finishing up his packing.

“Yes, you will have your sisters, and you’ll make friends at Court. You have already worked miracles with my nephew, you’ll have everyone following you around in the Capital.”

Jon laughed “He isn’t so bad, a little spoiled, and soft considering who his father is, but he wants to learn, that much is obvious.”

“He has the personality of a porcupine, but see what you want Jon Snow. Make a man out of him, and my father will give you half of the West.” Tyrion laughed as he got up and made his way over to where Jon stood and looked down to where he’d stored Wylla’s trunk in the bottom “What’s that? Tyrion asked as he pointed at the small purple box.

“It was my nursemaid’s. She passed on a few weeks before you all arrived at Winterfell. I don’t have the key, but that and this locket are all I have left of her. I’m bringing it with me. Maybe there is someone in King’s Landing who can get it open.”

“Oh there is undoubtedly, if that is what you want. May I see the locket?”

Jon handed it over and watched as Tyrion opened it up and peared at the mini painting inside.

“Do you know who he is?” Jon shook his head. “ He’s Dornish that's for sure, and looks familiar, but I’ve met many Dornish so who’s to say.”

“Wylla was also from Drone, I’ve always assumed it was her father, sometimes I look at it and feel comforted, like a father should make you feel” Jon said before wrapping it back up and placing it next to the trunk and looked over to see Tyrion giving him a strange look while lost in thought. Jon found himself growing uncomfortable under his scrutiny, and he changed the subject quickly. “You came here looking for something, my Lord?”

The imp was startled out of his thoughts and shock. “Oh yes. Have you seen the book on the Torrentine Kings?” Lord Stark is requesting it back.” Tyrion finished with an eye-roll.

Jon chuckled and moved over to the side of his bed. “You left it on the table at supper the other night. I brought it here to keep it safe.”

Tyrion grinned at him, and took the offered book. “It’s a fascinating read, very few copies still exist, outside of Dorne, and I was hoping to bring it south to have a copy made, but Lord Eddard was QUITE insistent that it be returned as soon as possible.”

“Well let's not give Lord Stark any more reason to hate the name Lannister and give him back his book, My Lord. I need to finish packing and go tell my other brothers goodbye”

“As you say Lord Snow.” Tyrion replied and gave him a mocking bow, before scuttling out the door leaving Jon to his thoughts. He couldn’t believe that tomorrow he was leaving Winterfell, and there was nothing his father could do to stop him, nor could he send him to the Wall. In the few days he’d been Ser Jaime’s squire, he’d already learned so many things about armour, sword work, and the ways of Court. Where before he’d been kept in the shadows, hidden like a dirty secret, now he spent his days sparring with a prince, and talking with princesses. People looked at him like he mattered now, and Jon found himself walking around Winterfell with his head held high for the first time. And tomorrow he was heading out into the world to make a name for himself.

Ghost whined, interrupting his thoughts, and Jon realized how late in the day it had grown. Taking the wolf with him, he walked out in the yard and headed towards Bran and Rickon’s room. Knocking he heard a woman’s voice tell him to come in, and as he opened the door he saw Lady Stark sitting with her youngest. Jon immediately gave her a bow.

“My apologies Lady Stark, I just wanted to tell the boys goodbye since we are leaving so early. I can come back…”

“No no Jon, you are welcome to come in and see them.” Catelyn gestured towards the chair opposite hers.

Bran ran over and started questioning him all about being a knight and how excited he had been to meet both Barristan and Jaime the day before. Jon knew his brother’s dream was to become a knight and as Tyrion said, perhaps one day Jon could take him on as his own squire and help his little brother become something as well. He finished answering his questions, and then went to give Rickon a hug and his own farewell. Lady Catelyn had gone over to speak with the boy’s nurse but she must've been listening, because as he went to leave, her voice rang out.

“They are going to miss you, you know. A lot of people at Winterfell will.”

Jon turned back to her and gave her another bow. “I will miss them as well. Thank you for letting me know them, my lady.”

“You are their brother, Jon. You love them all, as much as I do.” Lady Catelyn made her way over to him and for the second time that day, Jon found himself being hugged. “Thank you for being bigger than the situation you were born into. I hope great things find you in King’s Landing” she whispered before letting go and going back to her chair at Rickon’s side. Jon stood shocked. Not once in fourteen years could he remember his stepmother hugging him. “Thank you my Lady” was all he could stay, before making his way in a daze towards Ser Jaime’s room to help him with his armour.

The rest of the night went by quickly and before he knew it, it was morning and he was standing in the yard waiting for the rest of the court to saddle up. It was early yet and only a few had arrived thus far.. Ser Jaime was with the princesses getting ready to escort them to their wheelhouse, and Tyrion had yet to make his appearance for the morning. Jon saw Lord Stark making his way towards the yard with the rest of his family, and he quickly dashed to the crypts to avoid any confrontation.

Looking around he felt something pulling him down the passage until he found himself in front of his Aunt Lynanna’s statue. Everyone knew the story of his Aunt and how she had been kidnapped by the dragon prince. Lord Stark refused to speak of his sister, even growing angry at his true children if they said her name, so she had all but disappeared from Winterfell. The crypts were rarely visited and this was the first time Jon had seen Lyanna’s statue so he knelt down to show reverence. There was a feather in her hand, and something felt wrong about it, so Jon threw it to the side. When his hand touched the stone, he felt a bolt of electricity flow up his arm, and he stepped back in shock looking at her stone face, at the flash of grey eyes that appeared, before fading back to lifeless stone. He felt a sense of familiarity flow through him, and rightness. Jon wanted to see the eyes again, but as he went to touch the statue again, he heard a whistle from above.

Jon reluctantly went to leave, but before walking away, he looked back one more time. “Goodbye” he called to the statue, as well as to the home he’d known his entire life, and ran back into the light of the courtyard. He saw Lord Stark glare at him for being in the crypts, but Jon quickly made it towards his horse and mounted up. His horse Tarak, who had been his mount for years, was all black, outside of a star shaped mark on his forehead, and incredibly fast. He’d refused all other riders, until Jon had braved his saddle and they’d ridden together ever sense. Ghost was at his feet, ready to go south with Nymeria and Lady, and they both made their way over to where Ser Jaime had brought Leo up next to the wheel house.

“There you are.” Jaime said as he looked over where the King was mounting his own horse. “I’d thought you changed your mind.”

“Never Ser Jaime.” Jon said as he gave one last look around the courtyard. “I was just saying a final goodbye.”

The knight gave him an understanding smile. “ They say all you Starks are made of ice, and melt when you ride below the Neck. Stay close. I’d like for you to arrive at the Capitol in one piece.” As Jaime spoke the King gave the command and they all started moving out of the courtyard. Taking one final look around his former home, Jon couldn't help but laugh “I guess it’s lucky I am not a Stark.”

Chapter Text

“It’s a boy. I can feel it. What should his name be?”

Arthur laughed at the dancing woman in front of him in the top rooms of the Tower. Her joy, brought on by feeling the babe move for the first time, was evident as she twirled around the room. All thoughts of war and misunderstandings are far from her mind. “I’m sure even with my suggestions, you already know what you want to call him.”

Lyanna looked back at him, her eyes still dancing but the rest of her had stilled as she continued to cradle her growing stomach. “Are you ever wrong Arthur Dayne?” She asked with a cheeky grin. 

“With you? Always.” He replied with his own grin, as he joined her by the window.

“Not this time, for you are right. I do know his name. And it is a name that will make his father proud.” 

Arthur looked down into her laughing grey eyes “I’m sure he will.”

Dark purple eyes flew open, and Arthur sat up quickly in his bed at an inn near High Hermitage. It had been years since he had dreamt of her. Years in Essos had numbed the sense of failure he’d felt, but here, only a few days' ride from the aptly named Tower of Joy, and they were all rushing back. 

Swinging from his bed and finding his boots, he stalked out of his room, and walked into the cool dry night that was Dorne. Fourteen years ago, after awakening with a splitting headache, a stab wound, and dark memories, Arthur Dayne had sworn to never return to his homeland. Yet here he was. Attempting to reclaim some of his lost honor, as well as put some of his ghosts to rest. Looking off into the distance he saw the towers of the keep. Distant Dayne cousins were the lords of High Hermitage and he could have bedded there for the night, Lord Wesley would have been happy to host him, but Arthur was hoping to keep his return quiet for as long as possible. At least see his family first before announcing to all of Dorne that the prodigal son had returned.  

Thinking of his brother and youngest sister only rejuvenated the need to see Starfall, so he decided to forego any more sleep that night and ride on. Going back to his room, Arthur packed the few things he’d needed the night before and dropped a few extra coins on the table for the innkeep, to apologize for his hasty departure, and made his way to his horse in the stable. “Why delay the inevitable?” he thought to himself and quickly made his way to the road and rode hard for his home. He continued to see ghosts of his past; Lyanna, Rhaegar, and Ashara all haunted him as his horse flew down the way. 

Soon enough the sand gave way to trees, then the trees began to thicken, and Arthur found himself in the forests that surround Starfall. He climbed a small hill, and looked down onto the Torrentine River Valley. In the middle of the river’s mouth stood an island and on the rocks of that island stood his family's ancestral home. The Daynes had held Starfall for thousands of years, before the Tarrgarayns had claimed the seven kingdoms and even longer than the Starks had claimed Winterfell, a Dayne had held this seat. It was a beautiful castle. All white stone and dark towers stretching tall into the sky, the Palestone Sword being the tallest of all. Below him a  long stone bridge rose up across the river and led to the gate of the castle and it was to that bridge Arthur found himself riding again.

“Halt. Who goes there?” A guardsman said from the top of the walls. 

“A fallen star has returned. Please inform Lord Aiden his wayward brother begs an audience for forgiveness.” 

“Ser Arthur. Arthur Dayne?” Is that you?” The same voice called out, and although it was familiar Arthur couldn’t place it.

“It is Ser. I’ve returned to the river.” Arthur looked up and saw a greying head looking down on him, that relaxed into a smile when he recognized him. “Ser William, is that you?” The knight had been the son of the master at arms when Arthur had been a boy.

His answer was drowned out by the opening of the gates and he soon found himself surrounded by men wearing the Dayne livery, the familiar purple and white comforting him. 

“Well as I live and breathe, when Lord Aiden said you’d be coming home, I think we all thought it was just the milk of the poppy talking. But here you are.” Ser William had made his way down and gave Arthur a great hug. He and William had been close as lads, with William only being five years older than himself. 

“It is good to see you as well Ser. My brother, is it really that bad?” Arthur inquired.

“Yeah it is, I’m glad you came so quickly Arthur, the maester says he had days at most. Go see him. We will catch up later.” Ser William patted him on the shoulder. Arthur denied the need for a servant to show him the way and quickly made his way into the keep. 

He’d barely made it into the entrance hall when he heard feet running across the floor and soon found arms around his neck and a voice in his ear. “You came home. I was so afraid you wouldn’t make it in time, and I’d be all alone here” His sister Allyria sobbed into his shoulder and Arthur hugged her tightly in return. “I’m home. You’ll never be alone again, I promise.”

The two siblings continued their embrace for a long time before both pulled away to wipe at their eyes, and Arthur got his first real look at his baby sister after fourteen years apart. Allyria, at twenty-seven namedays, had grown into a beautiful woman. The almost black hair and dark purple eyes he and his other siblings shared surrounded a face that reminded him of their mother. “How are you Ally? Truly?”

His sister smiled at his personal nickname for her. Arthur and Ashara had been close, but Allyria had a special place in his heart. Both of their parents had died when she was still a toddler and Arthur had taken her under his wing. 

“I’m okay Art, especially with you here now. It hasn’t been easy, but Aiden has made peace with himself and is prepared for death. He should be awake for his midday meal. You should go to him before he drifts back off. We can catch up at supper.” 

Arthur gave her another hug and turned to make his way to the Lord’s chamber, when Allyria stopped him. “He’s in his old rooms, he had the others made ready for you. He didn’t want the memory of his dying there to haunt you too.” Arthur started to argue, but Allyria put a hand on his check “We all know how difficult this is for you Art, let us help you as well.” She said with sincerity shining in her purple eyes. “Come, I’ll take you to him, he’ll be happy to see you” His sister grabbed his hand and walked him through familiar rooms, until finally stopping at the door of his brother’s childhood room down the hall from his own. 

Allyria gave a light knock and then opened the door and Arthur saw Aiden propped up in his bed with a tray of barely touched food. His brother’s eyes met his and he saw happiness in them “Arthur, I barely believed it when they sent word from the gatehouse but it’s true, you are home.” 

Arthur walked quickly to the bed where his brother was and knelt down, with his head bowed. “Forgive me for being gone so long, My Lord. For leaving without a word. For taking my family for granted.” He felt his brother’s hand on his head and heard his weak voice call out “Allyria, if you could leave us, I need to speak to our brother alone.” He heard her footsteps, and then the click of the door, before his brother spoke again. “Although there is nothing to forgive, I know you won’t rest easily until you hear me say the words. Absolve yourself of your guilt my brother. You may be the Sword of the Morning, but you are still just a man Arthur, it is okay to mourn” 

Arthur started to protest the use of the title but his brother held up a hand. “Enough of this Fallen Star nonsense. You EARNED The Sword of the Morning title, do not disrespect those who have carried it in the past by denying it now when it’s needed most” Aidne’s voice grew in volume and strength “I may only be your Lord for what little time I have left, but my final command to you Arthur is to take up Dawn and be who you were meant to be.” And with that, his brother's strength waned and his arms fell to his side and he laid back against the pillows. 

“You need to rest Aiden. I can come back later” Arthur made to stand but his brother waved him back so he moved to a chair next to his brother’s bed and leaned close to hear his whispered words. “There are few who remember the rebellion, and even fewer who know the reasons behind it. You know it all Arthur. Promise me you will take up Dawn again. Promise me you will be ready to avenge them. Ashara. Lyanna. Rhaegar. They were victims of lies and greedy men who need to know we have not forgotten. You know our words. See that others know them as well.”

Arthur could see fire behind his brother’s dark purple eyes, despite his labored breathing and the greyish tone in his skin. He wanted their family avenged as much as the friends they both had as children. He clasped his brother’s hand “I promise Aiden. You have my word.” 

His brother only nodded and looked out the window at the birds flying over the window. “My time is almost up Arthur, I can feel Mother, Father, Ashara, and Jayne calling for me, but I have one other request for you, before I go.” 

“Anything Brother, you know that.”  Arthur said with a thick voice. 

“The Dayne name can not die with you, while I failed at providing an heir, it is not too late for you.” He gasped at what Aiden was impling, but his brother continued. “I know what you're feeling, and I felt it too after Jayne’s death, only to be saved from that pain by my own impending demise, but House Dayne needs to survive through you. Take time and find your peace, but then you need to find a wife who can give you an heir.” His voice barely whispered as he finished talking.

Arthur looked at him and he knew his brother was not making such a request lightly. “I won’t swear this vow Aiden, I won’t lose more of my honor if I can’t fulfill it, but I will swear to try. I promise to try for you.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Aiden rasped and his eyes fell shut. If it weren’t for the raspy breaths coming from him, he would swear he was already gone. Arthur rose quickly and quietly made his way from the room to allow his brother rest.

The rest of the day was spent catching up with Allyria, hearing of her betrothal with House Dondarrion, that would be fulfilled after Aiden passed, and taking in the familiar sights of his childhood home. He avoided his and Ashara’s old rooms, not ready to face the memories that would come flooding back, but did settle into the Lord's chambers. Remembering his parents and the happy times they’d all had before when they’d been children. Before he’d gone off to squire and Aiden became Lord of Starfall. Ashara had been his shadow and Allyria a chubby babe toddling around the knees. The Daynes had been a close family, and his parents had a rare love match found at court. They’d been happy. Maybe they’d have stayed happy had the fever not taken his parents. Had Arthur not taken his white cloak. Had Ashara not danced with a Stark. 

Arthur laid in bed that night, haunted by his ghosts and playing out each ‘what if’ scenario through head. Aiden had been right, he did need to find some peace, if only to find sleep as well. “It can wait,” Arthur thought, looking at the purple canopy, “at least another day. It can wait.”

A week later

That morning Arthur stood in front of all those living at the Starfall and watched as his brother’s body was laid to rest in the family cemetery next to Ashara. Aiden had passed in his sleep, three days after he’d gotten home, and the maester said it was painless. He and Allyria both shed tears over his cold body, and spent the day after sharing their favorite memories of their dear older brother and their sister whom they’d also lost too soon. 

Arthur had never really had the chance to mourn Ashara, she died while he recovered from his wounds at the tower, and he’d not been in any state to reminisce when he’d awokenl. But this time, with Allyria’s help, he’d felt like he could lay his brother to rest and be at peace with it. 

After the ceremony, they hosted a memorial feast, and then everyone was given the rest of the day off to mourn and remember their Lord in peace. While everyone ate in the great hall, Arthur once again found himself in the cemetery staring at the little cluster of memorial stones. “Why am I destined to outlive everyone I love?” He thought, staring at the two smallest stones next to Ashara. He’d been surprised to see Aiden had memorialized the two babies, two small stars so cruelly taken from their family. Seeing them at first he’d felt such anguish that he was brought to his knees, but the longer he’d looked, he felt the sadness grow into anger. Standing, he looked towards where they’d just laid his brother. “You were right once again big brother, it is time the kingdoms remember the words of our family. I will make you proud.” He said the stone bearing his brother’s name.

Arthur turned and strode purposefully to the only other room he’d avoided since his arrival. Opening the door he looked across the room to the scabbard displayed above the fireplace. Taking down the great sword, he pulled it from leather and looked down on Dawn for the first time in fourteen years. The blade was still as pale as he remembered, yet as he ran his thumb over the edge, just as sharp and strong. Arthur pulled the sword completely from the scabbard, which he laid off to the side, and gave the sword a few test strokes in the air around him. Arthur had fought with every kind of sword imaginable, yet nothing would ever compare with the feeling of fighting with Dawn. 

“It’s good to see you with that blade in your hand dear brother.” Allyria’s voice rang from behind him. “Aiden would be proud to see you taking his words to heart.” she said as she joined him next to the fireplace and they both looked down at their house’s legacy. “Aiden was right about many things, but there is only one that matters right now.” Arthur responded.

“And which one was that?” Allyria asked, quirking her eyebrow at him.

Arthur looked back down at the sword in his hand before turning to his sister. “Too long have we waited to take justice for our loved ones. The kingdoms have forgotten House Dayne and they need to remember our words, dear sister.”

Allyria smiled at him and they both looked back at Dawn and said together “Now it ends”

Chapter Text

The world around Daenerys felt distorted, like when she looked around in the morning with blurry eyes. She could see the fuzzy outlines of trees as well as the sky, and not far ahead was a small cottage in front of a lake. Squinting to try and see things more clearly she saw the distinctive shape of another person sitting on a large rock in front of the open door of the cottage. Dany quietly walked to the person and the closer she got, while the world around remained blurry, the person, the man she noticed became clearer. When she was a hundred feet out she recognized the dark hair and broke out in a run to her Wolf. He turned at the sound of her hurried feet and she saw a grin stretch across his face as he got up from the rock and caught her as she jumped into his arms. Dany laughed as he turned them in a circle and rained kisses down on his face, overwhelmed at the love she felt for this specter of her dreams, before realizing this was unlike her usual dreams of him. He was here. Like he had been after the bear attack, and the world had the same distorted feel. Dany felt him lower her, like he himself had realized the implications of this meeting.

Dany looked up into his eyes, and grabbed his hand “Are you hurt again?” she asked, not able to hide the note of devastation in her voice.

“No. I was safe in my tent at our camp, and I felt the urge to sleep. Are you well?” He asked, his beautiful eyes filled with concern as he looked her up and down, looking for a wound.

“No. It was the same for me. I was talking to my handmaids and the next thing I knew, I was here. What could it mean?”

“The old gods are giving you a gift and a warning.” A familiar female voice rang out from behind them. They both looked around but saw no one. “We do not have much time, so let me say what I need to say” The voice said again and Dany thought it was the woman she had seen at Winterfell.

“Why can we not see you?'' Her Wolf asked and she could hear a note of panic. “Mother is that you?”

“It is my son, and I wish I could be there with you, but the old gods are adamant it is still not time. As I said this is a special gift for you. I am here to help you both, for you together have a great destiny and only together will Westeros be saved. The next year will involve both of you finding out who you truly are and where your power lies. There will be pain and betrayal for you both but you need only remember the one that truly matters is each other.”

Dany felt his hand tighten and his thumb rub little circles on her own.

“Daenerys, your fight will start the moment you awake. This fight will put you on the path to valuable friends, and when the time comes, the weapons you will need to take back the Iron Throne. Be ready when the time presents itself, and do not stop until you have everything you need. It will not be easy and will physically exhaust you, but there is light at the end. One year from now, come back to Westeros, and go to the Stars, for they will keep you safe and help you on the path to your throne. Be cautious with your trust, my young dragon, for there are many who seek to take advantage of you and your good heart.

Dany felt the eyes of her Wolf on her and looked up at him again and saw a softness as they looked back at her.

“My son, your journey will be more emotionally and mentally challenging, but you will have Ser Jaime to help you. Trust him, for there are very few you will be able to at the court of the false Stag King. Use your time there to learn, read everything you can about the legends of Westeros and strengthen your body for the fight ahead. You are so much more than Lord Stark has made you believe, and while he tried to, he could never destroy your power.”

Dany saw sadness leep into his eyes and gave his hand a squeeze of her own. Her beautiful Wolf didn’t deserve to be brought so low, and she reached up on her toes and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. He responded with a small smile and looked up as if looking for the face of his mother when she spoke again.

“Remember my words, my children and know I am with you both on your journeys, in your heart and in my warnings. You will still dream of each other, but this will be the last time you share a physical connection until you reunite in person when Dany comes to Westeros.”

At the lady’s words, the world around them began to blur more. “The magic is wearing down. I will leave you to your goodbyes. I love you both and remember what I have said.”

Dany was grabbed into a hug by her Wolf and felt tears running down her cheeks. “How can I go so long knowing I’ll not feel you holding me again?” she said with a sniffle and clung harder to him.

“You must be a Dragon, Dany, and fight for the future my mother has promised.” He looked down at her and she saw a fierce determination behind his grey and purple eyes. “And know you will never be far from my mind and my heart.”

“As you will be in mine my Wol…”

He interrupted her “Jon, my name is Jon. You should at least know that while we are apart.”

Dany smiled. “Be safe, and smart for you are my soulmate Jon, not a day goes by I don’t think of you and I will count the days until I can really be in your arms.”

Jon smiled at her words and leaned down to kiss her again. Unlike their previous kisses of this dream she felt the passion building. She pulled his bottom lip between hers and heard his answering groan, her own breathy moan following. Any self control Jon might have had vanished at the sound of it and he angled his head to deepen their kiss and pulled her body impossibly closer to his own. His tongue gently swept along the seam of her lips and another groan vibrated through him as her tongue swept against his.

Dany could feel the world changing again and knew their time was almost up, so reluctantly pulled back, loving when he laid his forehead against her own. “I know it is crazy, we’ve only met in dreams but I think I love you Jon.” she whispered before opening her eyes.

In his eyes she saw that fierce determination again “ It isn’t crazy. “I think I love you too, Dany. Be safe my beautiful dragon and come as soon as you can.” He said before leaning down to kiss her again. Just as his lips touched hers she felt the final piece of their world fade...

Dany jolted awake to the sounds of a battle raging around her. Dothraki war cries could be heard from outside her tent, and Doreah was leaning over her shaking her shoulder fiercely.

“Khaleesi, you must wake up now! Another Khal and they are pillaging and burning through the camp. We must get you to safety.”

Dany quickly stood from her bed and ran to the bazaar holding the dragon’s eggs and searched for a bag to put them in, along with Ser Arthur’s gifts. “Where is Drogo? And his bloodriders? Should they not be defending us? Where is Ser Jorah? He can fight as well!”

“They are Khaleesi but they took us completely unaware. They have the advantage and I’m not sure if we were able to regain it. I just need to get you to safety.” Seeing Dany about to put her arakh in the bag with eggs, she stopped her. “Keep it out Khaleesi, we may need it as we escape.

The girls grabbed the bag and ran out into the night and Dany couldn’t help but gasp at the sight in front of them. Tents were on fire and there were Dothraki riding their horses in between them, dragging women down by their hair and swinging their weapons at the men trying to save them. Screams echoed through the night, some of pain and some of crazed joy. She and Doreah ran as fast as they could avoiding any horses coming their way until they got to where her silver was tethered. Doreah helped Dany mount up, and grabbed her hand to pull herself up behind her. Together they rode fast away from the camp and hid in the brush as the cries continued to sound well into the night.

It was there that Ser Jorah found them a little after day break. He was covered in blood but appeared unharmed outside of a few cuts and bruises.

“The battle is over Khaleesi. Many have died this night, from both Khalasars, but the raiders have left.” and he gestured for them to follow him back through the smouldering remains of their camp. The stampeding hooves had torn up the earth and trampled down the growing crops. The camp ran red with blood and the wailing of women could be heard in every direction. Black smoke was drifting towards the sky as they passed the burnt husks of tents and the dead eyed faces of her khalasar, but one face she had not seen.

“Ser Jorah, my brother, is he well?”

Dany saw the knight's head bow in shame and knew the words before they left his lips. “I’m sorry Khaleesi. He was cut down early. I failed him and I failed you.” he said in lowly.

She felt the tears start to form in the corner of her eyes. He may have been terrible to her, but he was still her brother, her only family she had left.Dany looked around again and saw a large crowd of the remaining khalasar surrounding something. “Ser Jorah what has happened here? And where is the Khal?”

“I’m not sure, Princess, after your brother fell, I spent my time searching for you.”

Dany looked again towards the crowd and moved her silver in that direction, dismounting as they reached the crowd and pushed her way to the front, not able to stop the gasp that escaped at what she saw. Laying on the ground was Drogo, pale and barely breathing with a large wound in his stomach being attended by one of the eunuch healers in camp. As she fell to the ground his eyes met hers and she saw the pain and recognition in them. Dany looked to the healer and with the slight shake of his head, she grabbed Drogo’s hang and the tears began to flow earnestly.

“Drogo. What can I do?” she asked in her broken Dothraki. Dany may not have loved him nor wanted their marriage but he had treated her decently. Given her freedom. And she did not want him to feel alone as he met his end. Drogo opened his mouth to say something and all that came out was a light gurgle. The eunuch stepped back and Dany knew the end was near.

She heard a cry from her side and saw Doreah and Irri crying over a dead Jhiqui. So much death around her, so many people she had come to care for: Dany had never felt so alone and powerless.

But she wasn’t powerless. She was a dragon. She HAD dragons if she could get them to hatch. At that thought she remembered what Jon’s mother had said. “This fight will put you on the path to valuable friends, and when the time comes, the weapons you will need to take back the Iron Throne.” Dany knew what she must do.

“Ser Jorah. Gather wood for a pyre for my brother, the Khal, and Jhiqui. We shall honor them with fire tonight.” Then she turned to the gathered crowd and addressed them the best she could in Dothraki.

“Dothraki! Your Khal is on his way to ride with his ancestors in the great grassland beyond. Tonight we will honor him and after we will decide who will be your next leader. Burn your dead tonight, for tomorrow’s dawn will bring about a new world.
With that she grabbed the bag holding her most valued belongings and moved to her unburnt tent to prepare for the night.

SUNDOWN

Dany walked out of the tent and made her way to where the pyre stood to the west. She could see three platforms all at varying heights and each held the body of someone who had been significant. Jhiqui had been kind to her and taught her the language of the people she had been given to rule. Drogo, her husband, and while not the man she would love, she had been fond of him, and the protection he’d represented. And finally Viserys. Her last blood family member, a brother who had been kind at the beginning of their life and did what he could to provide for her. Dany knew what she had to do now, to get her dragons. Carrying the eggs with her, she placed the cream one next to Viserys, which would be Viserion to honor him and their family, but also to remind her anyone can change.. The green with Jhiqui, would be Arthon for Ser Arthur who had taught her and cared for her more than anyone. And finally the black with Drogo, would be Zoklax, for her Wolf. For Jon. For the man she was meant to love.

“They have no need for dragon eggs in the night lands” She heard Jorah say as he walked up to her after she’d finished.

“They will not be going with them, Ser. But only death can pay for life and I will not allow theirs to go in vain. You must trust me Jorah, not just tonight but for the foreseeable future. If you wish to remain by my side, I will accept nothing less.

“Yes my princess…”

I am not your princess. I am your Queen. You gave my brother your fealty, and I am his heir. You will remember that.” Dany interrupted fire lighting behind her violet eyes.

Jorah recoiled from her and bowed with a quiet “as you say Your Grace” and stepped back as Dany made her way back to the center next to Drogo and her egg. After calling for oil, she saw the remaining Dothraki gathering around the pyre and staring at her with equal parts wonder and fear.

“Tonight you will see the wonder that is the Dragon. And when the sun rises you will have its protection and leadership. Stay if you will or go, for I will not enslave you, but I know you will give me your loyalty freely when you see who I am.”

And with that she nodded to Doreah who produced a lit torch and set the bottom of the pyre alight. As the flames grew around all three platforms, Dany could feel the heat but it was not uncomfortable, like sitting in front of a campfire, even as the bottom of her dress caught. The flames were growing higher and higher around her as both Jhiqui and Viserys were engulfed.

Over the roaring of the flames two distinct cracks rang out in the night followed by a sweet musical hum. Looking down at the black egg at her feet, she saw crimson swirls had started to glow and as the platform started to collapse she heard the same crack, the sound of stone breaking, but much lowder.

As the wood collapsed Daenerys fell to the ground, but maintained her footing as she was surrounded by the flames, her clothes had long become ash. She could hear screaming around her, Ser Jorah the loudest of all swearing and calling for water, but she was unhurt.The only pain she felt coming from the tiny claws making their way up her legs. One set, two, and finally the third joined until it was just them standing surrounded by flames. Zoklax had made his way up to latch on to her shoulder, right over her heart like a babe. Dany looked down and saw his eyes, not crimson or black as she expected. But dark grey and purple. Jon’s eyes stared back at her and she knew this was another gift from the gods.

Slowly the flames dwindled and when there was nothing but ash and hot coals Dany looked up to see her Khalasar staring at her in shock. The other two dragons had moved to her shoulders and with Zoklax in her arms, there was no way to shield her nudity, but she soon realized no one was looking at her body. All eyes were staring at tiny dragons calling out in warning and they all went to their knees. “Blood of my blood” she heard called from Rakharo as he went down to the ground and she heard Ser Jorah whisper reverently “ My Queen.”

Dany stepped forward and all three dragons started humming. The musical sound filled the night and for the first time in hundreds of years, the songs of dragons could be heard in the world. Looking at the people all kneeling to her and back down at her black dragon, she said the only thing that came to mind.

“Come. We have work to do. I want to go home.”

Chapter Text

298 AC 10 Months after leaving Winterfell/A month before Jon's fifteenth Name Day 

Jaime awoke to the sounds of Jon moving around in the common room they shared in the White Tower, as he did most mornings. He wouldn’t deny that he’d been weary at first about having a squire, especially with him being the son of the Warden of the North, but Jon had more than proven himself worthy of his title. From day one on the King’s road they’d easily fallen into a routine of duties and training, and a mutual respect had formed. Jon was eager to learn and please, a hard worker, and his easy going nature helped ease them into their new partnership and Jaime couldn’t imagine a time without the boy he now thought of as another younger brother. 

He had taken easily to court life and already had endeared himself to many people, from the chambermaids he politely greeted daily, all the way up to his Tywin, who saw the boy’s natural talents and leadership as gifts to be cultivated to reflect well on the Lannister legacy. Tywin had even kept Tyrion in the capital to help further Jon’s formal education and it was rare to see him not in the company of one of the brothers. 

Their days usually started in the training yard, sparring with each other and any other available knights or guards who were about. Jon really was one of the most talented swordsmen he’d come across in his life and at such a young age, he could only get better, so Jaime made sure to have him train with different people so he could learn as much as possible. Even Joffrey had continued to express interest in sparring with Jon, and joined them in the yard at least once a week, and Jaime was proud to see his nephew evolving from the spoiled child he’d been before the trip North, into someone who might be a passable king one day.

The rest of Jon’s time was spent shadowing him during his Kingsguard duties, studying in the Red Keep library with Tyrion, and spending time with the many friends he’s made amongst the young adults living in the castle. Despite his bastard status, the Royal children had brought him into their inner circle, and with his charming attitude and good looks, soon he was fielding invitations from the other boys to spar and explore the city, and from the young ladies to take walks through the gardens. All and all Jaime was happy to see he had acclimated so well and proudly claimed his squire to anyone who questioned the tall boy with the purple-grey eyes.

The only real blight on Jon’s time in the Capital, had surprisingly come from the Starks. His relationship with his family had been strained since the incident on the Kingsroad and Jaime still found himself growing angry when he thought about the first true test to the fledgling relationship all those months ago.

***Flashback***

The King and his court had been on the road south for a few weeks now and Jaime was happy to see his squire starting to come out of his shell. The first few days Jon had been quiet and reserved when speaking with anyone that was not his cousins, but between Tyrion’s snark and Jaime’s gentle encouragement, he was smiling more and his confidence was growing as he performed his squire duties. Even Barristan had commented on his growing personality in his smug way that suggested he’d been right that Jaime was better suited for the job, which he begrudgingly agreed with. 

Jon had enjoyed seeing the landscape that surrounded the Kingsroad as they moved south and he’d seen more of the North than he’d ever seen and gotten his first view of the Riverlands. Jaime had been happy to point out the various castles they passed and Tyrion made sure to quiz him on the seats and it’s lord to gauge his education. Neither had been disappointed as it seemed the young man had an affinity for geography and history and answered all of their questions correctly and the days passed quickly until an accident with the Queen’s wheelhouse caused a delay. 

They were stopped at the Inn at the Crossroads, waiting for it to be repaired and Jaime had given Jon the morning off to explore the area surrounding the Ruby Ford with his younger sister, while he shadowed the princesses. After a few hours the Lord Commander had come by to relive him and to tell him that they were to leave in the next hour, so he'd gone to find his squire. Almost to the river, he passed a distraught Arya Stark running towards camp, and Jaime felt a dark pit form in his stomach and moved faster, only to spur his horse on even faster when he heard yelling over the rush of the river. 

The sight he came across would forever be ingrained in his mind. On his knees on the ground was Jon, next to two tourney swords, with one cheek already starting to bruise and the other under the sharp point of Lord Stark's sword, a slow trickle of blood running down. 

“Never compare my daughter to my sister.” The Northern lord was snarling at the defenseless boy.    

Jaime was off his horse with a shout and had his own sword out and leveled at the Hand, faster than he’d ever been before, looking down at Jon, hoping to calm him with his presence as well as reassure him that no further harm would come to him now, before looking in to the ice cold eyes of the Eddard Stark.

“You will lower your sword, My Lord, if you do not want to spark a war with a Lion.” He said in a deadly calm voice, never taking his eyes off him, but inching closer to Jon in case he was needed to defend a blow.

“This is a family matter Kingslayer, you have no right to speak to or stop me as I discipline him.” Stark said his face growing red as his anger grew, his eyes swinging down again to the prone boy. “He has to learn his place.”

“The day he took his vows as my squire he became a part of MY family as well Stark, I will defend and protect him, as will my Father for me. Think about your next move carefully.” Jaime responded, moving even closer and using his own sword to push away the lord’s enough for Jon to scramble off his knees and behind him; Ned’s eyes growing even colder as Jaime stood at his full height in front of his squire.

“The King has ordered us to move out within the hour, Lord Stark” He said while slowly raising his sword back into a defensive position. “You might want to see that your household is ready”

The Northman looked between them both, cold fury still evident in his eyes, before sheathing his sword and turning back to his horse. Once he climbed up he turned back towards them “You have chosen to abandon your family for this dishonorable knight? Well then you are no longer welcome to see them. Do not speak to Arya or Sansa again and I will make sure our guards know you will not be welcome in our chambers. You were never a Stark, so it is time for you to stop pretending like you are one.”

With his final words, he turned  his horse around and galloped back to the inn, and Jaime turned to an ashen Jon. He had tears in his eyes and seemed to be having trouble getting a breath. Jaime sheathed his own sword and grabbed his shoulders, not taking his flinch personally, and led him over to a rock to sit on. “You have to take deep breaths Jon, steady even breaths. You are panicking, come on son, just breathe.” he said quietly as he rubbed his back.

Soon Jon’s gasps and sobs calmed and Jaime felt it was safe to ask what had happened. “Arya asked me to train her with a sword. So we’ve been practicing discreetly, although I never thought Lord Stark would be that angry over it. He rode up just as I’d disarmed her. She’d exclaimed a bit and I think he thought I’d hurt her. He sent her away and started yelling at me. When I said Arya had asked to be trained like Aunt Lyanna, that's when he hit me, pulled his sword, and you arrived.”

Jaime looked at him and felt his anger rise at the sight of the bruise and cut, as he talked almost like he thought he was alone. “It happens every time someone mentions my Aunt. Especially if I’m around. The deepest scars on my back are from when someone compared my riding to hers. He hates her... like he hates me.” he finished as his voice broke again.

“Hatred for his sister or not, nothing excuses what he does to you.” Jaime replied with heat in his voice, not aimed at his squire but at the lord who’d just left them. “I swear by the old gods and the new he will never lay a hand on you again while you are under my protection but I need you to promise me something.” At the boy's nod, he continued. “Where we are going, it is like a vipers nest, and you can trust few. I cannot be with you at all times so you need to be prepared to defend yourself. If you find yourself in a situation like this again, whether with a stranger or with your father, do not take it lying down. You are not alone anymore Jon, you have a Lion in your corner. Don’t let them forget it.” Jaime could see a weariness in his eyes, but Jon nodded at his words and stood wiping his eyes as he looked out towards the river, and he followed. “Come, the King really did call for the move out. We need to get you back to your horse.”

The rest of the trip south saw a quieter Jon, but also a new fierceness in how he swung his sword. When they finally rode through the gates on King’s Landing, Jaime saw the last of the innocence of boyhood leave his squire, and a harder young man in his place. 

***End of Flashback***

Jon rarely brought up his Stark family to anyone, unless to answer a question if directed to him. Only a sparse few knew of his banishment, and Lord Stark had made sure to keep the situation as quiet as he could. Jon had taken his words to heart and hardened himself to his fellow direwolves here in the capital. Even sending the younger one away when she'd snuck up to their tower. He appeared ice cold to the situation, at least outwardly, but Jaime saw the anguish in Jon’s eyes when he saw one of his sisters in court.

These thoughts brought him back to his task for the day and his meeting that morning with the King’s Hand. Jon’s name day was in a few weeks and Jaime’s hope was to help him towards reconciliation with his younger siblings in time to celebrate with him. A knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts and his bed, and opening the door, he saw the smiling face of his squire. Jon had grown taller in his time in the capitol and if he continued at this rate he’d be taller than Jaime himself in a few months. Tyrion liked to joke that they were competing to see who could make him feel smaller.

“Good morning Ser Jaime.” Jon said before standing back to allow him into the common area. “I’ve had the servants bring your breakfast here this morning as you requested, and your clothes are ready for the day. Lord Tywin sent a message already requesting our presence for dinner with the Queen and Lord Tyrion this evening, and Ser Barristan stopped by as well to request that you stop by his office on the way to your morning appointment.” He said while pulling out Jaime’s boots and making sure they were cleaned for the day, well versed in their daily routine by this point, but with a relaxed atmosphere so unlike his own squireship with Lord Crakehall. 

“Did the Lord Commander tell you what about?” Jaime asked as he sat for his meal, encouraging Jon to have some as well, knowing the growing boy never seemed full these days. He smiled and grabbed a piece of bread for shrugging. “No sir, just that it was important and like he was reminiscing about something. Who is your morning appointment with? Anything I need to prepare for it? He asked before taking a large mouthful.

Jaime debated not telling him about the meeting with Lord Stark, not wanting to see him deflate, but knew if anything happened it would be better for him to know his location. “I’m meeting with the Lord Hand to discuss a few things.” he responded while watching Jon carefully. Green eyes met purple-grey, and he could see panic rising in them for a second before his mask fell back into place. “I’m sure that will be quite the meeting, I’ll try my best to avoid that side of the keep to keep him as amiable as possible for you. Good thing your brother has requested my help in the library. He’s still trying to find that book about Nymeria’s War, and requested my help with the higher shelves." he said with a strained laugh. "May I be excused Ser?” he asked in a detached and cold voice. 

Jaime looked at him carefully before nodding once and watched as Jon made his way to the door before he called out. “You have nothing to worry about Jon, I hope you know that. I won’t lie and say you won’t be brought up in this meeting, but you aren’t in any trouble, nor are you going anywhere.” he said to his back. Jon just nodded and continued out the door on his way to find his little brother. 

Jaime finished his breakfast and dressed quickly making his way further up the tower to Barristan’s office at the top of it and knocked, before entering at the Lord Commander's call. “You requested my presence, Ser?” he asked as he took a seat in the chair in front of the desk.

“Yes, we received news this morning that, while it doesn't directly concern you, I thought you’d like to know.” Selmy said with a serious look on his face. “Arthur Dayne is back in Westeros, and has taken up the mantle of Lord of Starfall, and Robert has summoned him here for questioning and to swear fealty if he is to keep the title.”

Jaime was shocked. He hadn’t seen the man who’d knighted him in sixteen years. Since Robert's rebellion had split the kingsguard and Ser Arthur had followed the dragon prince, both never to be seen again in the capitol. Unlike himself and Barristan,  Arthur had run away to Essos after the war ended, instead of swearing his oath to Robert, but that apparently that was changing and he was coming back not only to Westeros, but to King’s Landing as a Lord. While lost in his shock and thoughts Barristan continued.

“Jon Arryn was convinced by the now departed Lord Dayne to give his brother the title after his death to continue the family name and now that he has passed and Arthur has taken his place. Robert seems amiable to the idea of having the Sword of the Morning as a loyal bannerman, but Lord Stark was livid at the idea of him coming back and his ire only grew when he found out about him coming to King’s Landing.”

Jaime grimaced at his words. “Fantastic” he said bitingly. “I’m scheduled to meet with him this morning, and I was already nervous due to the content, but now it will be miserable. What is the King’s plan for Dayne. Is there anything we need to know or anticipate as Kingsguard?”

The Lord Commander shook his head at Lord Stark’s attitude and sat back in his chair. “He plans to question him about the end of the rebellion, we all know that Dayne was in Dorne around the same time as the Lady Lyanna and we all know of his loyalty to Prince Rhaegar, but Stark never mentioned him being at the tower where he found her body, so I think he just wants to see what he knows and then will accept his fealty easily enough. He needs as much Dornish support as he can get considering Doran still holds such animosity towards the King and your family. I just wanted you to be prepared for his appearance. I know you idolized him, but he is no longer the man he was before the rebellion.”
Jaime stood and gave a small nod of his head. “Thank you for the warning, Ser. I’ll keep it in mind if our paths cross. Now if you’ll excuse me, I do not want to offend the already irate Hand with my lateness.” and at Selmy’s own nod, he left the White Tower and made his way to the Tower of the Hand.  

Normally a guard would be posted to announce his presence, but there was no one around so Jaime knocked on the door and entered when he heard Stark call out to enter. He could still see the anger Barristan had warned him about and resolved to try and stay as pleasant as he could be during the meeting.

“Kingslayer, I’m sure you have heard the news of Arthur Dayne’s return, so can we please make this quick, I do not have much time.” Stark quipped at him without looking up from the parchment he was writing on.

Jaime bristled at the nickname, but held his temper. “I’m here to speak to you, my Lord Hand, about Jon.”

At his son’s name, Eddard’s head snapped up and the quill stopped moving. “Are you sick of him, want to send him back North?” He seemed almost gleeful at the thought. “He cannot go back to Winterfell, but we could send him to the Wall as initially planned. It’ll reflect badly on us at first, but I’m sure with the skills he has acquired with you, he’ll find success as an officer soon enough…

Jaime interrupted. “I am not sending him anywhere, the opposite in fact, I’d like to compliment you on the job you’ve done raising him. He’s an astonishing young man and he’s done you proud.”

Lord Stark’s face quickly soured at his words. “Then why are you wasting my time. I told you both he is no longer a part of my family?”

“That is what I want to speak to you about, Lord Stark.” Jaime snapped, before reigning himself again. “He’s accepted your punishment, with much respect, despite the pain it causes him and your daughters, not seeing each other. His name day is in a few weeks and we’d like to have a small celebration, and him here to ask if you would allow your daughters to join us?”

The Hand looked at him with calculating eyes, before putting his quill down and sitting back in his chair contemplating. “What did you hope to gain from attaching this boy to you, Lannister? Everyone knows you to be selfish, and prideful. Yet you benevolently take on a bastard boy sentenced to the wall, shower him with gifts and train and educate him as if he were a prince. So what was your motivation hmm? A spy in my household, or my son’s when the gods take me? A position of power over me? Blackmail? Well. You chose the wrong squire if that is the case. Should have waited a bit longer for one of the younger ones and tried to warp them to your game.”

Jaime sat shocked at the implication. “My only gain was to save a boy from wasting his life away. A talented, smart boy, who has so much potential, but was being thrown away by his father. I have no ulterior motives, Lord Stark.” he said coldly. “What were your motivations for throwing away your son?”

The Northman’s cold mask began to slip, and Jaime could see the fury Jon had described starting to show. “I never wanted him. But I was stuck with him because his whore of a mother had to die birthing him, and leave me with her shame. I did my duty to my blood, but it’s done. He is no longer my problem.” he snarled reminiscent of the direwolf on his sigil. “My daughters will not be celebrating a bastard living another year. Good day Ser.” he finished before looking back down to his parchment clearly dismissing him, but Jaime would have none of it.

“If you did not want him, then why did you take him. You could have given him to the wet nurse and let her raise him, Jon has mentioned that she seemed to care for the boy. Or his Mother’s family, why couldn’t they take him?” Jaime growled at the lord in front of him. “Who was she, Lord Stark? Was it Ashara Dayne as rumored? The Daynes would have gladly taken him in. The eldest just died heirless, Jon could have been the next Lord of Starfall. Ser Arthur especially would have treated him as his own son. You didn’t need to treat him so cruelly for something that wasn’t his fault! Arthur is coming to court, let him know his neph..”

“ENOUGH!” Eddard roared, jumping from his seat, lost in his fury. “His mother is no concern of yours, Kingslayer. She’s dead, the gods saw fit to punish her for her crimes and betrayals.” He screamed. “Only one other person knew her name and I made sure to silence her before she took upon herself to tell him.”

Before Jaime could respond, a gasp was heard from behind him and both men looked to the doorway to see Jon. “YOU KILLED WYLLA?” 

Chapter Text

Jon looked around the Tower of the Hand as searched for Ser Jaime. He shouldn’t be here, but Lord Tywin had insisted that he tell Ser Jaime the news rushing through court before he heard it from someone else.

In almost the entire year he’d been in the Capitol he’d never seen any of this part of the keep, having kept his distance from his family. It is filled with luxury, tapestries and soft carpets, the opposite of Winterfell, Sansa would love this, but he imagined Arya turning her nose up to the expensive vases that littered the hallway he was walking down.

As he moved farther down, he could hear voices and the closer he got to them, the angrier they grew. “Good day Ser” Jon could hear his father coldly dismiss Ser Jaime as he walked towards the Hand’s office, pausing when he realized they were discussing him.

At first he felt guilt for eaves dropping but then he heard Jaime bring up his mother, and he was paralyzed where he stood. After Wylla’s death, he’d all but given up on ever knowing anything about his mother, and yet, here his benefactor was fighting for information for him and he couldn’t bring himself to stop listening.

“If you did not want him, then why did you take him?” Jaime was not yelling, but you could hear the anger in voice, like he’d waited months to confront Lord Stark. “You could have given him to the wet nurse and let her raise him, Jon has mentioned that she seemed to care for the boy. Or his Mother’s family, why couldn’t they take him?” Who was she, Lord Stark? Was it Ashara Dayne as rumored?”

Jon felt shock flow through his veins. He had never heard any of these rumors, but then again Lord Stark had banned any talk of Jon’s mother at Winterfell when he’d been a small child. But now he had a name. He’d never had a name before. And not just any name, but a major house of Westeros. One of the oldest and most prestigious houses in the Kingdoms. He heard Jaime continue and refocused on his words. “The Daynes would have gladly taken him in. The eldest just died heirless, Jon could have been the next Lord of Starfall. Ser Arthur especially would have treated him as his own son. You didn’t need to treat him so cruelly for something that wasn’t his fault! Arthur is coming to court, let him know his neph..” But before he could finish his sentence, Jon jumped at his father’s exclamation and he heard him yell in a voice he’d never heard before.

“ENOUGH!” He roared, and Jon heard his chair scrape back like he’d jumped from his seat. “His mother is no concern of yours, Kingslayer. She’s dead, the gods saw fit to punish her for her crimes and betrayals.”Ned screamed. Jon felt like he’d been doused with ice water at the hatred in his voice, only for it to quickly turn to fury at his next words “Only one other person knew her name and I made sure to silence her before she took upon herself to tell him.” He gasped as the words flowed through him and he realized what that meant. Wylla. The woman who’d basically been his mother. She’d taken care of him, fed him, and loved him like nobody else had. And she’d been stolen from him.

Jon felt what was left of his temper snap and ran into the room in a fury, and, for the first time in his life, yelled at his father. “YOU KILLED WYLLA?”

Both men whirled to face him, and Jon could see shock and anger in both of their faces, but behind Lord Stark’s eyes he could also see a small flicker of fear. That fear fanned the flame he suddenly felt in his soul and all the words he’s held in for his life started to flow from his mouth.

“You really do hate me don’t you, Lord Stark? You’ve done nothing but berat and abuse me my entire life. Even when I’ve done everything I could to make you care for me. Your goal was to destroy my soul” Jon felt his body shaking and he tried to bring himself under control and this time when the words started again, the air in the room froze at the ice in his tone. “All I ever wanted was to be loved by my family, yet the only one who gave me that love was a servant. And you took her from me. You killed the one person in my life that was just for me. Wylla loved me regardless of me being a bastard or any trouble it brought her. Why Lord Stark? Was it one more way to prove your hatred for me?”

Jon felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Ser Jaime giving him silent support as they both stared coldly at the King’s Hand awaiting his explanation. Ned seemed at a loss for words, and just stared back as the minutes ticked on, before he stood straight and arranged his features back into his cold mask.

“My reasons were my own and I owe you no explanation outside of the fact that I took care of a servant who was a traitor to their Lord, as was my right.” His face morphed into a cruel smile. “And that is exactly what I’ll say if you try and bring retribution for my supposed crime. No one will believe the words of a bastard and the Kingslayer over the Hand of the King.”

The grip on his shoulder grew tighter before dropping away completely and in a second the tip of Jaime’s sword was under Lord Stark’s chin.

“You may have rank over me Stark, but I’m still the better swordsman. I’d be willing to bring charges and solve them with a trial by combat.”

Jon saw the blood flow from Stark's face as the tip of the sword pushed a little further into his neck and he felt glee at seeing the supposed strong man grimace as a small trickle of blood flowed from his neck. But then panic started to settle in at the thought of his siblings hating him if his knight killed their father. And what if Jaime somehow lost? He wouldn’t put it past Lord Start to cheat in some way and his panic grew at the thought of losing the only other person who’d ever cared for him. He put his hand on Jaime’s sword hilt and slowly lowered it.

“No Ser Jaime, he may hate me, but he is a good father to his true children and they do not deserve to know the loss of a parent so young.” He turned to Lord Stark, who while still pale, was eyeing him curiously. “But now. You owe me a life debt, Lord Stark.”

At his words the curiosity died and anger filled his face. “I owe you nothing, bastard, you don’t know he would win” Stark spat in his direction.

“Aye, we may not know for sure, but is one life debt worth risking it.” He replied cold and calm, looking over to Jaime and seeing a proud smile growing on his face.

Lord Stark looked panicked again and his eyes shifted between the two of them, the sword at his side, and the door behind them; before finally settling back on his face, and while he still looked angry, he also looked resigned and he took his chair once again.

“What is it you want in payment for this debt, Snow?” he asked quietly.

“I want my mother’s name, and I want to know her family. That is my demand, Lord Stark. What say you?”

The man jumped from his chair again and seemed ready to attack, had Jaime not drawn his steel again, before collapsing back in his chair. “I will never speak that whore’s name again in my life, so I refuse..” He ground out. “However, I will counter your offer. I’ll allow you back in my daughters' lives if you promise to keep this whole unfortunate issue between those in this room and promise to never ask me about your mother again. That is my final offer, so choose? A dead woman’s name and a family who doesn’t want you? Or two living girls who miss their big brother? The decision is yours, Snow. What say you?”

Jon knew what this was. A final act of cruelty imposed upon him by his father. How would he choose? The knowledge of half of who he was, potential family members somewhere in Westeros. Or the sisters he loved more than himself. Seeing them around court and not being able to talk to them had been eating away at him and the sadness in Arya’s eyes had brought him to tears many nights. And as much as he hated to admit it, Stark was right. He had to choose between a ghost and his living flesh and blood.

He knew what his decision would be, but didn’t stop the stab of pain going through his heart. “I’m sorry mother” he thought as he stepped closer to the desk and put his hand out. “You have a deal Lord Stark. No one will know of your evil deeds, and I get to see my sisters whenever they want to see me.”

Ned grinned manically at him as he stood and shook his hand. Jon had never seen him so gleeful. The secret of his mother finally being buried seemed to fill him with joy. He sat back down behind his desk and picked up his quill, clearly dismissing them both, but Jon had one final thing to say.

“I may have my sisters back Lord Stark, but you and I are finished. I shall be speaking to the King and appealing to have my name changed from Snow to Sand. I am no longer your bastard to browbeat and abuse. I will never call Winterfell my home again as you have long wished. But understand. If the time ever comes that enemies come to your gates, pray to the gods you don’t see my sword with them.” And with that he spun on his heel and ran for his room in the White Tower and collapsed on his bed, mourning the mother he’d never known, and now never would, and the surrogate he’d lost to cruelty.

So lost in his emotions he didn’t hear the door creak open, and only registered that he was no longer alone when he felt his bed dip. “I’m sorry Jon.” He heard Ser Jaime say quietly.

No other words were said. He just silently sat there while Jon brought himself under control. Sitting up he wiped his eyes and made to walk towards the window, embarrassed at his emotional display, but Jaime stopped him with another hand on his shoulder. “You do not have to hide yourself from me, Jon. What you’ve gone through today would make most grown men collapse under the strain and I’d be more worried if you showed no emotion.” Jon didn’t know what to say to the kind words, so he just looked towards the window.

“Did you mean it? That you want to change your name from Snow to Sand?

Jon nodded. “I know I was born in Dorne. Wylla told me that much.” At the thought of his nurse he felt the grief welling up again and fought it down. “So I assume my mother was from there. And now that I’ve given up any chance of knowing her, I’ll honor her with my name. Do you think King Robert will grant my request?”

“I know he will. I had a few more words with Lord Stark after you left and he has promised to put it to the King himself. You may have promised him discretion, but I hadn’t yet.” He said with a dark chuckle.

Jon looked at him with shock. “Why would you do that for me?”

Jaime looked back at him “You still don’t get it do you?” You aren’t just a squire to me Jon. You’ve become a friend, hells, you’ve become my youngest brother. I’d protect you, just like I’d protect Tyrion. I don’t care for much in this world, but I do have a never ending desire to protect my family. Like it or not, that includes you now, young Sand.” He finished with a cocky grin as he used Jon’s new name for the first time. “If you don’t believe me, wait here.” and he left the room for a moment before returning with a long package in his hand.

“I was planning on this being a name day present, but after today, I think you need it more now.” Jon took the heavy package and looked up to him. “Go ahead, open it.” Jaime said with a true smile.

Jon slowly removed the paper and gasped in shock at the beautiful sword that he held. The blade was decorated with tiny wolves that seemed to run towards the guard, and the pommel was decorated with stars that ended with a purple stone. “I know you no longer want to be a wolf, but it is still a part of you.” Jaime said quietly from beside him. “And the stars and the purple are for your nurse, for the box you have of hers. She was the only mother you’ve known so I’ve honored her as well.”

Jon sat in shock and just continued to stare at the beautiful blade that now belonged to him.

Jaime shifted nervously next to him, “if you don’t like I can take it back.” and at his words he looked up and met his eyes.

“Thank you Ser Jaime, I love it.” He replied as sincerely as he could muster.

Jon saw relief flood his mentor's eyes and they both shifted awkwardly and Jaime muttered a quiet, “you’re welcome” before standing to leave the room. He stopped midway to the door and looked back.

“ Why did you come to Lord Stark’s office anyway? I thought you wanted to avoid him?”

Jon startled, nearly dropping the sword. “Lord Tywin sent me to tell you the news. I’d completely forgotten after everything that has happened.”

“Well what is this big news?” Jaime asked him with a teasing smile.

“King Robert has announced a grand tournament at Harrenhal to celebrate the fifteen years of his rule! He wants it grander than any other tournament ever held. There is to be a joust and melee, feasts and dancing. The court has been told to prepare to leave at the end of the moon.”

Ser Jaime looked shocked. “He wants to go back to Harrenhal? After Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar?”

Jon just shrugged. “He said that the last tournament there was the catalyst for his rule, so that's where he wants to celebrate his great achievement. Regardless, Lord Tywin said to make sure I’m ready for the melee.” He lowered his voice to mimic the Lion lord

“Bring glory to the pride, young Jon.”

“His exact words.” he finished as he picked up his new sword and tried out the balance.

“Well if you are to compete in front of all the kingdoms, I suppose we should get some practice.” Jaime beckoned him out the door and they made to leave the tower, but the knight stopped in the doorway. “A blade needs a name. What shall you call yours?”

Jon thought about everything that had happened that day. Giving up his name, and the knowledge of his mother and he knew.

“Hereafter. Because today, with this sword, my new life begins. I’m not Jon Snow, I’m Jon Sand. And anyone who crosses my blade will know I’ve changed, just as they will after I beat them.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 20: Jaime VI: Tournament begins. General merriment and fun. Arthur and Jaime talk about Rhaegar and what happened all those years ago. Jaime internally starts to question Jon’s paternity.

Chapter 21: Robb I: Meets up with Joanna and a kiss is shared and a betrothal is set between Starks and Baratheons. A Feast celebrating betrothal happens. He and Jon discuss the Melee that happens the following day.

Chapter 22:Thoros: PtwP /Woods Witch prophecy alternate revealed in a flame vision. Bright Sword. Fire in the Stars. Dragons. Dark haired men fighting the white walkers with three silver haired figures on dragons.

Chapter 23: Dany V : Recap of acquiring Unsullied, similar to book and show. Receives letter from Arthur, saying he believes the prince is a bastard and they should attempt a coup while the king is still alive. Decides to head to Westeros via Dorne / Starfall. Leaves Unsullied to keep peace, makes plans to send for them, when time is right.

Chapter 24: Jon VII: Melee happens, comes down to him and Arthur Dayne, Dayne disarms him and requests he remove the helmet and seems shocked by his face. Asks his name and seems even more shocked. Jon walks away to Jaime who also looks shocked and sends him to the feasting pavilion. As he sits with Robb and the rest of the Starks, notices a man behind the king draws a knife and yells out a warning but it is too late. Multiple people appear as Ned takes a spear through the leg, Robert is bleeding on the ground. Robb runs to Joanna’s side to help protect her. Jon rushes to help Barristan and they take on the 5 assassins.

Chapter 25: Arthur III: Shocked at seeing Jon. Jaime confronts him about what he’s figured out. But is interrupted by a fight in the king's tent. Assassins are after the king, who is dead, Ned seriously hurt. Jon and Barristan fighting 5. Ghost takes out one, Jon another, turns to fight another and is stabbed in the chest, Jaime, Arthur and Barristan take out the other three, Barristan runs to check on the king, Jaime and Arthur fall to their knees next to Jon. Jaime calls for a maester while feeling for a pulse. Arthur touches his face and whispers son. The End

Chapter 26: Epilogue: Lyanna: See’s Jon in the afterlife. Tells him about his father and his true name, and what to expect from the future

Chapter Text

Prequel -- Pyxis “The Compass”

Summary:
Arthur Dayne and Lyanna Stark meet at Harrenhal and sparks fly between the two fighters. Bound by different vows they attempt to ignore the feelings awoken by one dance, and go their separate ways, back to their respective lives. Life goes on for them both until one day, while on a visit to the north Robert attempts the unthinkable causing Lyanna to flee the North. Lacking options she starts south, eventually running into Rhager and his kingsguard at Harrenhal, who have just received a new version of “The Prince that is Promised” Prophecy. Noticing the attraction between his best friend and their guest, and believing them to be the prophesied creators of the Prince that was Promised, Rhager suggests that Arthur escort Lyanna to Starfall to hide.. Along the way, the two fall in love and by the time they reach Dorne Arthur realizes he has to decide between the thing that made him a legend, and the future he wants with the She-Wolf. Realizing his friend would throw away his happiness for his duty, Rhager secretly releases him from his vows and travels to Starfall to witness the wedding between Arthur and Lyanna, although a little bird witnesses the prince and Lyanna speaking and reports back to Varys that it's actually Lyanna and Rhager who have married. Months pass, rumors spread of the prince stealing the she-wolf and Robert rebels (canon) Lyanna ends up pregnant. Flee to Tower of Joy. Trident happens. Hightower and Oswell come to the tower to tell Arthur of Rhagers death, Lyanna goes into early labor, Ned shows up and the fight happens. Arthur ends up badly wounded/unconscious . Ned goes into the tower and tells Lyanna her husband is dead. In her grief she grows weaker and she tells him to take her son to Starfall, whom she names Vorian(The last Danye king) Dayne. Promising he will, he holds his sister's hand as she dies. Telling Howland they are both dead he hides the baby with the wet nurse in the tower. He asks Howland to take Arthur to Starfall while he deals with his sister’s body and burns the tower. Epilogue finds Arthur weak with fever at Starfall mourning his wife and child, while Ned introduces “Jon” to a furious Cat and Robert is Crowned.

Sequel 1 -- Corona Australis: “Southern Crown” : 5 year time span
Summary:
Ned survives the attack. expedites the marriage between Robb and Johanna and claims regency until Joffrey comes of age, but secretly plans to have him killed to put Northern blood on the throne. Purple wedding happens, except this time not Olena but Ned responsible and Ned crowns Robb king of westeros, himself as hand and banishes the Tyrells and Lannisters from King's Landing including stripping Jaime of his white cloak.
Arthur confronts Ned about his lies and the abuse heaped upon his son under his care and vows to pay it back tenfold. Stays in King's Landing when he can to get to know Jon as he finishes up his squireship with Jaime. They argue over who will knight him and spar for the right, Jaime wins but defers to Arthur after realizing how much he’d suffered without his son. When Dany finally lands in Dorne he leaves KL to go back but with the offer to Jon to come home when he is ready. Dany, Arthur and the Martells plan to take back the throne from Ned.
Jon is brought back by Thoros after learning from his mother that his father is Arthur Dayne, and that a growing threat looms beyond the wall, she tells him in two decades he will be the one who will have to save the world from the Night King but he wouldn't be alone. After waking up, he and Arthur get to know each other, grow closer and establish a Father and Son relationship. He goes to Dorne where he and Dany meet. They fall in love and get married and eventually have a son they name Arthur.

They decide to go to war against Westeros when Ned sends assassins after their son, Jon and Robb secretly meet and talk about the past and everything Ned has done, and mentions they secretly have had a second child, named after Robb. Robb decides to stand down as long as his family remains safe, but Ned refuses and they have a battle outside KL. Lannisters, Martells, Tyrells on the side of Dany and everyone else on Ned’s side. One huge battle and it looks like Ned will win when suddenly the Unsullied and Dany’s dragons show up and the tide changes. Ned is killed. Robb is named warden of the north Dany and Jon crowned queen and king.

Sequel 2 -- Corona Borealis “Northern Crown : 13 year time lapse - 3 year time span
Summary:
13 years into the Dany and Jon’s reign, they have 4 children
16 yo Arthur (Dragon rider) betrothed to Robbs oldest daughter
14 yo Robb (Dragon rider)
10 yo Lyanna
4 yo Rhaella
Westeros has been rebuilt from the war for the throne.
Jon starts to have dreams about what Lyanna told him while he was dead.
Night’s watch starts to notice weird things happening and people start to disappear
Winter sets in with a vengeance
Thoros comes to KL to advise on the northern situation
They gather the largest army ever seen and march towards the wall, setting up a camp in the gift.
Meet with Mance and come to an agreement to let the free folk through the wall
Night king strikes multiple times over a year span
Arthur (Jon’s father) is killed when the wall finally falls and devastated and distracted Jon is injured and in a coma. Thoros performs a ritual that allows him to see both Arthur and Lyanna together. They tell him to take up Dawn and have Dany and their sons on their dragons and engage the Night Kin. They are happy to finally be reunited after so long apart.
Jon wakes up, sad but determined to win. They fight, Jaime saves Jon, loses his hand but survives and Jon eventually wins. Epilogue shows a prosperous Westeros, a move to end slavery in the east, baby dragons, and a new baby named Jaime.