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2022-10-24
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2022-12-11
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A Thirdborn son

Summary:

After being murdered by the men Jon once called his sworn brothers, Jon awakes again as a babe, finding himself living amongst men and women he had once only learned about at Maester Luwin's knee.

Chapter 1: A Son who should not be

Chapter Text

As the daggers pierced his body, he felt no pain, only the biting cold; thrice more, his sworn brothers stabbed him and thrice more his blood splattered on the ground. It was in his anguish that he prayed to all gods, old and new, drowned and red. As he lay there dying, Jon thought only of Arya, of Winterfell, and of his family cut down by the cruel world. Jon wondered what awaited him after death though it mattered little; the gods had no love for bastards or oathbreakers; there was little time to ponder this; his vision grew dark and his body cold, with one last shuddering breath he whispered “Ghost” and knew no more.

 

King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, hated births.

To be sure, he loved the feeling of gaining a new child, he loved congratulating his wife on bearing another heir without tragedy, but at the same time, ever since Aemma, he hated the anxiety that came with uselessly standing about outside the birthing chambers, listening to Alicent’s pained screams.

He had only just managed to heal his bond with Rhaenyra after the death of Aemma, he did not want to have to explain to little Aegon why he would never be able to see his mother again.

Then again, Rhaenyra had been a girl of five and ten when Aemma had died, Aegon was a boy of four, so he may not hold to a grudge as desperately as Rhaenyra had.

Although he did not think that he had much to fear, Alicent had proven much stronger than Aemma did when it came to the birthing bed, and had had little difficulty in delivering his last three children by her.

Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond were all robust healthy children, with his silver hair and purple eyes, but they had their share of Alicent’s own features as well.

Although, this pregnancy had been somewhat unexpected for he and Alicent, they had not meant to have another child so soon after Aemond, but alas, the Gods had a tendency to make the most carefully laid plans of mortals go awry.

And so it was that Viserys found himself waiting outside the birthing chambers as he had naught but a year ago, standing about as Alicent worked to deliver him another son or daughter.

Viserys wished that his daughter were by his side as his wife, and her friend, worked to give her another sibling. But a rift had been forming between Alicent and Rhaenyra of late, much to his own despair.

And that Rhaenyra, a maid with silver hair and purple eyes, who was married to a husband with silver hair and sea green eyes, had given birth to a lad with brown hair and brown eyes and a pug nose certainly did not help matters between them.

Viserys understood that what Rhaenyra had done was an affront to the Gods and the match he had arranged for her, but what would Alicent have him do? Annul the marriage? Ship the boy off to the faith? Send his own daughter and heir off to the silent sisters?

Such a thing would be preposterous, Jacearys had Targaryen blood, that was all that should matter, Alicent would simply have to learn to contend with that.

Little Jace would spend his days growing up with his uncles, they would serve him when he one day ascended the iron throne and took his mother’s name, that would simply be the way of things.

As if in answer to his thoughts, after one last scream, Alicent’s screaming ceased, and a child’s wails filled the air.

After a moment, the doors to the birthing chambers opened, and Grandmaester Orwyle walked into the hallway.

“Your grace,” Orwyle began, a triumphant look upon the Maester’s face. “Her grace has delivered the child safely, as we predicted, it was a son.”

Viserys smiled, another son, just as he had hoped, after the death of Aemma’s Baelon, to be given three sons was truly a blessing.

Viserys entered the birthing chamber, a contented look upon his face. “I just heard my love, another son.” He gave Alicent a congratulatory kiss on the cheek.

Alicent smiled back at him. “He has your eyes my love, but my hair I believe.”

“May I hold him?”

Alicent nodded, and held out the baby for him. Viserys took hold of his thirdborn son.

True to Alicent’s words, the boy seemed to have his eyes, but a tuft of black hair adorned his head.

Viserys looked back at Alicent. “A fine Prince, did you have a name in mind?”

Alicent nodded. “I had thought to name him Baelor your grace, in honour of your father, by your leave, of course.”

His queen was wise, Rhaenyra may well have viewed naming the boy Baelon when her full-blooded brother who had tragically died held the same name as an insult, but by naming him Baelor, Rhaenyra would have little cause to be upset, even if she understood the implications of such a name.

Viserys nodded. “Baelor it is; it is a fine name, Prince Baelor Targaryen. May he be as brave as his grandsire and as wise as his mother.”

There was something odd about this child, though; his eyes were wide open, he was deathly quiet, and there seemed to be some sort of awareness in his eyes.

He was most likely seeing things, however, was what Viserys told himself. A boy who had not lived for even a day could not understand the world around him as a grown man would.
After the first moon, Jon had realized that this was not a dying dream; after the first six years, Jon had been able to fully comprehend what had happened to him.

 

After the first moon, Jon had realized that this was not a dying dream; after the first six years, Jon had been able to fully comprehend what had happened to him.

He had been given a second chance at life by the Gods; he, of all people, had been reborn amongst men and women whom he had once only ever learned about in lessons with Maester Luwin.

He was Prince Baelor of the House Targaryen, the rider of Ghost, son of King Viserys the first, and Queen Alicent Hightower.

He was a Targaryen Prince that to his knowledge had never existed, riding a dragon that had never existed.

And yet, here he was.

All Jon really knew was that the Gods had given him an opportunity, that opportunity being to prevent the extinction of the dragons. If the dragons did not die out, then the realms of men would be able to easily vanquish the true enemy, and he would be able to rest easy knowing that he had fulfilled his oath to defend the realms of men against the horrors that lay beyond the wall.

Of course, such a thing was easier said than done. Jon did not remember much of the Dance of Dragons, and the slights that would cause the conflict that Jon did remember had already been festering for years by the time he was born.

Jon was drawn out of his musings about his new life when he heard the sounds of a boy struggling in the dirt.

He stood up from the bench in the gardens of the Red Keep he had been sitting on, and wandered over to where he had heard the noise coming from. There, he found his brother Aemond, whom the histories knew as the One-eye, struggling to collect bugs.

Jon tapped on Aemond’s shoulder, gaining his attention. “What are you doing, brother?”

Gods, to hear himself speak in a child’s cadence was something Jon would never be able to get used to, his six and tenth nameday could not come soon enough.

Aemond had a frustrated look written across his face. “I’m looking for some new bugs for Helaena to add to her collection. You know how fascinated she is by the creatures, she’s been sad lately and I was hoping to lighten her spirits.”

Jon still could not understand how a boy like this would one day grow up to be the mad Prince who would burn the Riverlands to cinders.

Aemond was a headstrong boy, with a fierce temper and a chip on his shoulder, but he was no worse than Jon had been at his age.

Jon shook his head, smiling down at Aemond. “Well, I’ll help you, two bug catchers will bring back twice the bugs to Helaena.”

The two of them laughed and collected bugs together long into the day, and Jon’s joy only increased still when he saw the smile on Helaena’s face when they brought her back two handfuls of bugs for her to do with as she pleased.

For the first time in a long time, Jon felt as though he truly had a family once again, and while he still had nightmares of his death, he felt as though the sting of his sworn brothers’ betrayal stung less now.

 

Jon felt some amount of sympathy for his nephews.

Not only were they decent enough lads, but they shared something in common with him, they had been born bastards.

Jon knew full well what it was like to be a bastard, and while Jace and Luke were not cursed with the name Waters, being obvious bastards could not have been easy for them.

That was not to say that Jon supported their legally being Velaryons; however, as Lord Stark had taught him, the law was the law, and as terrible as Jon knew the existence of a bastard to be, a child of Rhaenyra that was not of Ser Laenor's seed was a bastard.

He would have far more sympathy for his half sister and her claim if she were to admit to her children being bastards, repent, and petition their Kingly father to legitimize them as Targaryens.

From there, Jace would inherit the Iron throne as he was meant to, and little Luke could take the name Strong and inherit Harrenhal after his true father's death.

Regardless of his birth, however, none could doubt that Jace was a Targaryen as his dragon, Vermax, approached the lad.

"Call Vermax to heel, Prince Jaceaerys."

Jace regarded Vermax with the most commanding look the lad could muster. "To heel, Vermax! To heel!"

Jace grew frustrated, so he repeated himself. "To heel, Vermax! To heel!" He said again, louder this time.

Vermax screeched in response.

The dragonkeeper frowned at that. "You must hold mastery over your dragon, my young Prince. As Prince Aegon has with Sunfyre." He said in High Valyrian.

Jon had never had much use for the language in his first life, but as Targaryen Prince keeping to the traditions of his ancestors was of paramount importance, so he dutifully threw himself into his High Valyrian lessons.

The dragonkeeper drew Jon out of his musings as he continued his lecture. "Once they are fully bonded to you, they will refuse to take instructions from any other. That goes for you as well Prince Baelor, you must fully bond with Ghost as well."

Jon had felt as though he had been greeted by an old friend when his cradle egg hatched, and a dragon of white scales and red eyes emerged from the egg. When he had been old enough to speak once again, Jon had named the dragon Ghost without a second thought.

Sometimes Jon was even convinced that the dragon that had hatched for him was the same Ghost that had been his companion in his first life, reborn again just as he had.

Jon nodded at the dragonkeeper's words, switching to High Valyrian as he responded to him. "I understand, dragonkeeper."

Vermax screeched as it looked hungrily at the sheep that had been brought out for it.

Seeing this, Jace looked at the dragonkeeper with an eager look written across his face. "Can I say it?"

The dragonkeeper merely hummed his agreement. "Mm-hm."

The sheep bleated as Jace regarded Vermax. "Dracarys, Vermax!"

Vermax screeched before bathing the sheep in flames, the sheep squealed as it died before Vermax began feasting on its charred remains.

Later, the five of them were walking together in the dragon pit, for what purpose Jon had not been made aware of.

Aegon looked at Aemond with a cruel smile. "Aemond, we have a surprise for you."

Aemond looked at Aegon with a wary look written across his face. "What is it?"

Luke entered the conversation then. "Something very special!"

Aegon smiled at Luke before continuing on. "You're the only one of us without a dragon."

Aemond looked annoyed at that as Jon frowned, Jon knew that his lack of a dragon was a sore spot for his elder brother by a year. "Indeed."

Aegon carried on. "And we felt badly about it, so we found one for you."

Aemond frowned, obviously incredulous, a feeling that Jon shared. "A dragon? How?"

The sound of a pig grunting graced their ears as Aegon answered his brother's query. "The Gods provide."

Little Luke led a pig with two "wings" tied to it over to them.

Aegon smirked. "Behold…"

Jace and Luke joined in then. "The pink dread!"

They all laughed incessantly as Jon’s frowned deeply, and Aemond looked at his "mount" as if the warrior himself had come down from the heavens to proclaim him a craven before the entire court.

Aegon put his hand on Aemond's shoulder and leaned in as if to impart some sage brotherly advice. "Be sure to mount her carefully; the first flight is always rough."

Jon gave his eldest brother a reproachful look. "That was poorly done, Aegon."

Aegon laughed at that. "Oh, come off it, Baelor, we're just having some good fun teasing the twat."

Jon's glare did not waver. "If anyone here is a twat Aegon, then it is you. A pig, truly? That is a prank worthy of a boy of ten, not a man of four and ten on the cusp of manhood."

Aegon gasped, covering his chest with a hand as if he was scandalized by his words. "Baelor! What would mother say if she heard that her proper little son was saying such vulgar words?"

Jon snorted. "And what would mother think of this Pink dread business?"

Aegon rolled his eyes. "She would yell at me, as she does whenever I do anything, including the horribly offensive act of breathing."

Jon winced at that; while he was in the wrong for what he did to Aemond, his words did have a kernel of truth to them. Their mother was much harsher on Aegon than the rest of them. He understood that his mother wished to crown Aegon, and thus she believed that she must ensure that he grew to become a man of character, but that did not mean that it was not any harder on Aegon.

Aemond clasped his shoulder. “Thank you for your support, brother.”

Jon merely gave his brother a nod in response to that.

He only wished he could have soothed his brother’s pride enough for him to not act the fool.

 

Jon knew full well what it was like to have something to prove, he had sworn himself to the Night’s Watch out of a desire to prove himself after all, so it had been easy to predict that he would find Aemond sneaking out of the royal quarters.

Aemond froze like a deer caught in the sights of the huntsmen as he noticed Jon leaning against the wall outside his chambers as he snuck out of his chambers.

Aemond swallowed a lump in his throat. “Brother.”

Jon nodded. “Brother,” he returned. “I take it you are headed for the Dragonpit?”

Aemond glared at him, tears forming in his eyes. “You don’t understand what it’s like! Your egg hatched, Aegon’s egg hatched, so did those- so did our nephews! I cannot bear it anymore, their mockery; I will have a dragon worthy of me, as is my birthright.”

Jon grimaced, walking over to Aemond and clasping him on the shoulder. “Very well, then, I will accompany you on this madness; at the very least, I can drag you out of the Dragonpit before you become dragon food.”

Aemond rolled his eyes. “There will be no need for that, Baelor. I am a trueborn Prince of the blood; I shall not fail to claim a dragon.”

He was a trueborn Prince of the blood, ‘unlike our nephews’ went unsaid between them.

Jon followed Aemond as they snuck out of the Red Keep and headed to the Dragon pit.

They headed to the section of the Dragon pit where the unclaimed dragons were chained, deeper in the pit from where the dragons that had riders were chained and kept.

His own dragon,Ghost, was nearby, but he would be of little help in their endeavor. Even still, Jon was comforted by the knowledge that his mount was nearby.

Jon regarded Aemond. "Which dragon did you mean to claim?"

Aemond returned Jon's look. "Dreamfyre, she is the biggest unclaimed dragon in the pit at present."

Jon nodded. "So Princess Rhaena's dragon then."

Aemond nodded in turn. "Yes, the sister of the Conciliator, I will make better use of Dreamfyre then she ever did."

Jon and Aemond finally arrived at their goal, the den of Dreamfyre.

Aemond made to claim the dragon, but Dreamfyre roared at him and let out a gout of flame, covering Aemond in ash and soot, predictably the dragon had quite obviously rejected Aemond.

Jon acted quickly and dragged Aemond away before he could become Dreamfyre's next supper.

 

When they arrived back at the Red Keep, they were escorted back to their mother by a member of the Kingsguard, one of the tragic Cargyll twins, Jon thought, though he was unsure.

The guards, along with Jon and Aemond, found their mother, Queen Alicent, in their sister's Helaena's chambers.

Jon had never had a mother in his first life, so he had gladly taken all of the motherly love and affection that his new mother had drenched him with.

But for all that he appreciated her love and affection, Jon could not help but be reminded of Catelyn by Alicent.

And that made Jon feel a storm of conflicting emotions.

As for Helaena, she reminded him of Sansa; she had the same girlish foolishness mixed with genuine precociousness, though Helaena, unlike Sansa, had a strange streak to her as well, what with her love of bugs and cryptic dreams.

Little Daeron, who had recently been sent off to Oldtown, reminded him of Bran in a way, with his wide-eyed innocence and boundless curiosity, not to mention his love of Knights.

Aemond reminded him a little of himself, but Aegon did not remind him of Robb, in fact, Aegon reminded him more of Theon than anyone else.

No wonder he and Aemond bickered so much, Jon sympathized with Robb even more now if this was what it had been like to play peacemaker between him and Theon.

While he had, for the most part, succeeded in befriending his nephews, he had not managed to get any closer to his elder sister, though he was still a child, so mayhaps when he was a man grown, he would have better luck.

If he failed to stop the Dance, then Jon would fight for his family to the bitter end. Any sympathy he might have had for the Blacks would not outweigh the love he had for his new family.

“Your grace,” The Kingsguard greeted the queen, pulling her out of her conversation with Helaena and focusing her attention onto the two of them.

Alicent looked at them, concern written across her feature. “Baelor, Aemond. What have you done?”

Helaena looked at Aemond and him knowingly. “He did it again, and he helped him.”

Alicent looked furious, in that concerned, motherly way that reminded Jon of Lady Catelyn. “After how many you’ve been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers?!” She turned on Jon. “And you, Baelor, you should be counseling your brother against such foolishness, not helping him as his accomplice!”

Jon bit his tongue, willing himself to keep silent, it would not do to talk back to their Lady mother, he knew, as children it would only make them look obstinate.

Aemond did not have the wisdom of a previously led life. “They made me do it!”
Alicent looked unimpressed at that retort. “As if you needed encouragement. Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding.”

“They gave me a pig!”

Their mother looked taken aback at that. “A what?”

Aemond moved to explain in a tearful voice. “They said they found a dragon for me. But it was a pig.”

Alicent embraced Aemond. “You will have adDragon one day, I know it.”

“He’ll have to close an eye.” Helaena murmured.

Yes, Jon thought grimly, Aemond would have a dragon one day, and Helaena’s words would prove quite prescient.

At least, they would if Jon did not change that.

 

Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsguard had not been what Jon expected.

As a child playing with Robb in the courtyard of Winterfell, Criston Cole had been one of the men they would play as, but only when they wished to play as a villain.

So Jon had expected Ser Criston to be like the villain in the stories, Jon had not been expecting a monstrous taskmaster who seemed to act as the father to Queen Alicent’s children in place of King Viserys.

Regardless of the deeds the man may have committed in the histories, Jon could not deny that Cole was truly one of the greatest warriors to have ever graced the Kingsguard, at least in terms of fighting ability, and so Jon eagerly learned everything he could from his new master-at-arms and sworn protector.

Jon was by far Ser Criston’s best student, although he had the self-awareness to realize that the memories from his past life gave him an unfair advantage over his brothers and nephews when it came to their lessons, both martial and academic.

His prodigious nature had not gone unnoticed, and even their Kingly father, who so openly preferred Rhaenyra and her children to his own, had remarked on how lucky he was to have such a gifted son.

Although Jon would have been proud to be Criston’s squire, it seemed as though his mother had designs on having him squire for his uncle Ser Gwayne, who was a captain in the City Watch, which was just as well as far as Jon was concerned, he was rather fond of his uncle Gwayne, he reminded him of uncle Benjen after a fashion.

Jon continued to train on his lonesome, not sparing his nephews or his brothers a glance, before Ser Criston came up to him.

See Criston observed him as Jon continued to go through the motions of striking the foeman, before the Kingsguard smiled, satisfied with what he saw. "Very good my prince, your form is perfect. I dare say you are as good as I was at your age."

Jon frowned, glancing at his nephews, See Criston knew this already, he had said similar countless times before, why waste time complimenting him when he could be giving instruction to someone who needed it, like little Luke.

Criston moved into Aegon, interrupting his eldest brother's leering at the maids. "Aegon."

Aegon turned to the marcher. "I've won my first bout Ser Criston, my opponent sues for mercy."

Criston looked amused at that. "Ah, well you will have a new opponent then my Lord of the straw. Let's see if you can touch me, you and your brothers."

Jon merely nodded as he readied himself with his brothers.

Aemond attacked first, attempting to strike Ser Criston on his right shoulder.

Ser Criston effortlessly parried the blow, and quickly parried Aegon's blow as well.

Jon attempted a thrust at Ser Criston but was quickly deflected.

He may have had another life's worth of experience, but that meant nothing in the face of a man grown, much less one such as Ser Criston.

Ser Criston then effortlessly parried another round of blows from Jon and his brothers, looking unbothered by their attempts.

He side stepped Aemond and dodged Aegon's next attack, as he parried Jon's blow.

Aegon and Aemond then attempted to strike Criston at the same time, but Ser Criston merely parried both of their blows lazily, before parrying Jon's own attack with the same enthusiasm as a cat when it swipes a mouse.

As Aegon lunged at him, Criston side stepped the boy and pushed him into Aemond, nearly causing the boys to knock each other over.

Criston gripped his sword, grinning at the boys. "You'll have to do better than that."

Taking his words as a challenge, Jon and his brothers attack Ser Criston yet again.

Criston blocked Aemond's blow before striking the boy on the arm, parried Aegon's thrust before striking him on the back, and parried Jon's blow before striking him on his stomach.

That seemed to signify the end of the match, as the boys began to walk over to their nephews.

Ser Harwin chastised their nephews as they approached. "Ah! Weapons up boys, give your enemies no quarter."

Ser Harwin regarded See Criston as he began to walk into the center of the training yard. "Seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, see Criston."

Ser Criston's mouth turned to a frown at that. "You question my method of instruction Ser?"

Harwin shook his head. "I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils."

They had all lined up before Ser Criston, Jon on the end by Jace, Aemond next to him, Aegon after that, and Luke next to Aegon. Whom Aegon pushes out of the way.

Something passed across Ser Criston's face. "Very well, Jaceaerys, come here."

He grabbed Jace by his chest plate and dragged him into position. "You spar with Aegon."

The boys chuckled at that, though Jon did not join in, frowning.

Surely it would have been more fitting for Jon or Aemond to spar with Jace? They were closer in age to him.

"Eldest son against eldest son." Ser Criston finished his declaration.

Ser Harwin seemed to share Jon's concerns. "It's hardly a fair match."

See Criston brushed off his concerns. "I know you've never seen true battle Ser but when steel is drawn a fair match isn't anything anyone should expect."

Criston surveyed his students as they stood apart from each other. "Blades up," He waited a moment for them to ready themselves. "Engage."

Aegon attacked first with a fearsome cry, assaulting Jace with a number of blows before pushing the boy over who cried out in pain as Aegon chuckled.

Jace did not stay down for long however, and with a fearsome cry of his own he surprised Aegon with an assault of his own, driving him back before Aegon hid behind a foeman, and kicked at him.

Ser Harwin pointed at Aegon. "Foul play."

Ser Criston nodded, for once the two men were in agreement. "I'll deal with him."

The two men took their respective pupils aside and whispered instructions to them.

Eventually, they were ready to battle again. "You!" Aegon yelled at Jace before attacking him once again.

It was a repeat of the start of the bout as Aegon relentlessly assaulted Jace, eventually knocking him over as Criston shouted instructions.

Criston did not let it end there however. "Don't let him get up!"

Aegon headed the knight as he continued to attack Jace.

Criston continued to shout instructions to Aegon. "Stay on the attack!"

Aegon contined to attack Jace until Harwin grabbed him from behind, dragging him off.

Aegon roared his displeasure. "You dare put hands on me!"

"Aegon!" Their father reprimanded him, though no one paid him much attention.

Ser Criston regarded Ser Harwin. "You forget yourself Strong, that is the Prince."

The Crown Prince, Jon knew Ser Criston wished to call him.

Ser Harwin picked up the training blades as he retorted to Ser Criston. "This is what you teach Cole? Cruelty, to the weaker opponent?"

See Criston dropped a training blade. "Your interest in the Princelings' training is quite unusual, commander. Most men would only have that kind of devotion for a cousin, or a brother, or a son."

At that insinuation, Ser Harwin dropped the training blades he had been organizing and struck Ser Criston with his fist, continuing to strike him as he pinned him down onto the ground, continuing to beat the Knight of the Kingsguard before three of Ser Criston's sworn brothers dragged him off of the Marcher.

Ser Harwin struggled against the men restraining him, a look of fury on his face. "Say it again! Say it again!"

Ser Criston merely chuckled on the ground. "I thought as much." Before he spat blood onto the ground.

Aye, Jon thought grimly, Ser Harwin had just made it clear to all around that the rumours about Rhaenyra and her children had more than just a kernel of truth to them.

 

Soon, their mother would bring word of the death of Lady Laena Velaryon, the wife of their uncle Prince Daemon, and the news that they would be travelling to Driftmark. As well as the deaths of the hand of the King, Lord Lyonel Strong and his son Ser Harwin Strong, who had been dismissed to Harenhall after his attacking of Ser Criston.

Aemond gave their mother a questioning look. “Why do we have to go there? Lady Laena was no kin to us.”

Alicent frowned. “She was the aunt of your nephews, the good sister of your elder sister, and the wife of your uncle, your father wishes for you to comfort your nephews in their grief.”

Aemond scoffed. “She was no kin to our nephews either.”

Aegon thumped Aemond on the shoulder. “Be quiet you fool, do you want to bring father’s wrath down on your head?”

Alicent nodded. “Aegon is right Aemond, you must hold your tongue, your father has made his views on such truths rather clear.”

Jon nodded. “Besides, whatever the truth of their parentage, they believe Ser Laenor to be their father, and Ser Laenor has never contradicted that belief, as such they likely believe Laena Velaryon to be their aunt, and they likely grieve for her all the same.”

Aemond swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat, before giving them a shallow nod. “I suppose you are right, mother, brothers, I shall hold my tongue.”

Alicent embraced Aemond. “Very good.”

Jon knew that Aemond would not stay away from trouble as their mother hoped he would however, though he hoped to ensure that he would not lose an eye.

It was his duty as the younger brother to the elder, after all.