Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What had started as the best few weeks of Jon Snow's life quickly turned into the stuff of nightmares, filled with betrayals and cruelty. It had started when his father had randomly invited him to come with him and Robb on one of his trips to Karhold and Last Hearth. Jon had been overjoyed to be finally included, and did not even pay attention to how Lady Catelyn had smirked in triumph as they left. He and Robb were having the best time of their lives, riding with their father towards the Karstarks and Umbers. Jon didn't pay attention to how his father denied speaking with him every night, thinking that the Lord of Winterfell had much more important things to do. He finally felt like he was truly one of the Starks, and wasn't going to risk losing that.

After a few days at Karhold, Jon thought nothing of it when Robb was told to stay with the Karstarks until they returned from Last Hearth. Jon had seen the way he and Alys Karstark were looking at each other, as did Lord Karstark and his father. He quickly forgot all about that, for the next week was the best time of his life, spending time with his father. Until it all came crashing down one night when the truth was revealed. They had traveled past Last Hearth to where they could see the Wall, when Ned Stark told him who his mother was. Jon was unprepared for the amount of hate that his father, no uncle, spoke with when he now addressed him.

"I tried to keep my promise to your mother, but I can't. You look too much like him, and he is the reason my father and brother died. He is the reason my sister ran off and started the war. He is the reason I couldn't marry the woman I loved. You are too much of a reminder of what I had lost, and are a constant reminder of how I could lose the family I have gained if Robert found out."

At first when they started this journey Jon thought that he was going to be sent away to foster with the Umbers or the Karstarks. When they had this conversation, all Jon wanted to do was run away to Essos to protect his family. He didn't care if the Dragon Prince was his true sire. But his Uncle had other plans, as a group of guards snuck up behind Jon and threw him in chains. He was going to the Wall, his Uncle said. It was the only way that he could keep his family safe, and to ensure the safety of the realm. There would be no more wars fought over the Iron Throne. Jon had screamed for his Uncle to let him go until his voice was hoarse, but Ned Stark spoke no words and merely turned his horse around and rode off. Jon was only fourteen.

All his life Jon had thought his violet eyes were proof that his mother was the whispered Ashara Dayne. He felt numb and cold for the first few days. When he tried to speak with the guards, men he had grown up with in Winterfell, they gagged him and beat him. He then learned what Ned Stark had told them, and with it any chance of him forgiving his Uncle burned away. They all believed that Jon had tried to kill Robb, and was being sent to the Wall as punishment. He spent the rest of the trip in cold silence. A snowstorm forced them to spend the night in Castle Black before they could force him to say the vows, and Jon spent it in the Ice Cells. He had a visitor, Alliser Thorne, who had come to spew his hatred of the Starks at him. When Jon told him the truth, Thorne changed his tune immediately. He had once been a loyalist, and had spent time on Dragonstone. Thorne had shoved a torch near Jon's face and examined it closely before dropping it and exclaiming,

"By the Seven, it's true! I can see him in you! Listen to me, you must not speak the words, do you understand? The moment you speak the vow, it's all over. Hold out tomorrow, and do not speak the words. I will find a way to get you out of this."

The next morning the guards came and dragged him beyond the Wall to the Heart Tree, but Jon would not speak the words. He stared at the carved face, brimming with hatred, cursing his Uncle with his thoughts, but would not speak the words. In another life perhaps, if Jon had learned the truth, he would have been here of his own accord to protect his cousins and Uncle, but not this one. His choice was taken from him, and the world believed that he was every bit a bastard as the Seven preached. He swore vengeance and retribution against his Uncle, but did not speak the words of the Night's Watch. When one of the guards began to beat him, a Ranger intervened, saying that he had to say the words out loud, but Jon wouldn't. He knelt there in the snow for hours, his hands in chains, and said no words. All of a sudden arrows came out of nowhere, killing the guards and the members of the Night's Watch, but not Jon. They were Wildlings, and it was thanks to Jon's quick thinking that they did not kill him either. Instead, they freed him, and he followed them back to their camp, having nowhere else to go.

A few years had passed since that day, and Jon was every bit a Free Folk as the rest of them. He had even stolen a beautiful spear wife, Mance's own sister by law. Well actually they had stolen each other, but he and Val were very much in love. They even had a son and daughter, both with the distinctive violet eyes and silver hair of the Targaryens, proving Jon's words to Mance when he had met him. Jon named them Rhaegar and Lyanna. The Free Folk loved his children, and even more banded together under Mance when they learned of Jon's story. The fact that he promised his aid in attacking the North also helped. He began to help train the forces in the way that Ser Rodrik had taught him, teaching them the basics of discipline, tactics, and formations. Many of the Free Folk had balked at Jon's methods, but the presence of the gigantic direwolf that Jon had claimed as his own, as well as his friends Tormund and Styr kept their voices quiet. When the Lord of Bones and the Weeper tried to kill him one night, he beat them to death with his bare hands in front of everyone. No one questioned him or Mance anymore.

Jon once again almost lost everything when the Free Folk attacked the Wall. The Night's Watch weren't the threat, their numbers had been devastated from a failed ranging attempt. No it was Stannis Baratheon and his forces that began to cut through their camp one morning. Jon could only watch as Mance fell to the Baratheon's blade, and then only saw red. When he came back to his senses, Stannis Baratheon was dead at his feet, and some woman in red robes was on her knees proclaiming him as some promised prince. He did not care for her words, but appreciated it when the rest of Stannis's forces bent the knee to him. The rest of the Free Folk did not bend their knees, but they called him their new King Beyond the Wall. Castle Black quickly fell, thanks to the actions of Lord Commander Thorne.

A few months later a group of Northern Lords came to Castle Black to speak with him. He expected treachery, and locked them in the Ice Cells for a few weeks. On a whim one day he went down to speak with them, to learn of what happened to the rest of Westeros. He did not weep when he learned of his Uncle's death, and would have smiled if he had been in different company. The tale that did bring tears to his eyes was that of his cousin Robb and his death. Up until the day he died at the Twins, Robb refused to believe that Jon had plotted against him on that trip to Karhold and Last Hearth. He even went so far as to write Jon as his heir in his will. Some of the Northern Lords were against this, but then Howland Reed spoke up of the truth about Jon. The rest of them were convinced when Jon brought his silver haired and violet eyed children to meet them, and swore their loyalty to him, naming him the new King in the North.

Winterfell and the Boltons fell quite easily to Jon's combined forces, and he sat on the Throne of Winter. His first act was to remove his Uncle's statue from the crypts, leaving his tomb untouched though. When a minor lord protested, Jon ignored him. That lord showed up dead in the Wolfswood a few days later, and no one said anything. The next bit of protest came when Lord Manderly tried to betroth one of his granddaughters to Jon, in order to have child of true Northern blood sit on the Throne of Winter. Jon refused, saying that he wanted his son with silver hair and violet eyes, the son of a wildling and a Targaryen to inherit the North. The Lord of White Harbor could not protest anymore, especially once Jon arranged betrothals for Wynafryd and Wylla with loyal Free Folk. In a moment of mercy, Jon made damn sure that the men he chose were of honorable and good character.

Cold King Snow they called him behind his back, but he did not listen to their words. When Brynden Tully showed up to beg for help, he did not expect Jon on the Throne of Winter. Everyone was surprised when Jon agreed to send forces to help retake Riverrun. Sadly the Blackfish fell in battle, and the captured Edmure Tully was found with his throat slit in his cell. House Tully was no more, but the Riverlands answered to Jon. When his cousin Sansa and her new husband, Harrold Hardyng came to try and take Winterfell from him, no one tried to aid them. One day Jon decided to go on a hunt with Lord Hardyng and people expected him to return alone. The two of them both returned to everyone's surprise, and amazingly Lord Hardyng quickly bent the knee to Jon in front of everyone.

The next time Jon almost lost all he had gained was the day three dragons arrived outside of WInterfell, with their mother sitting on the black dragon. The green dragon however was quick to rush forward towards Jon, immediately begging him for pets and scratches behind his horns. Daenerys Targaryen was convinced entirely when she saw his children. It was a week of intense negotiations between her and Jon, but finally they reached a compromise all could agree on. She, Jon, and Val were all wed beneath the Heart Tree in the godswood of Winterfell. Jon doubted her supposed barrenness, as did Val, but they already had heirs. Love between the three of them came later.

After he had remembered how he had gotten to where he was now, Jon looked back from the window he had been staring out of. His two wives were sprawled out on their bed, sleeping peacefully. Jon did not want to wake either of them, they all needed their sleep. Tomorrow was the day they marched South, towards the boy that said he was Jon's older brother. Truthfully Jon didn't care if he was false as Dany proclaimed. He was sitting on the Iron Throne, and Jon wanted it. He wanted it all. Everything that had been denied to him, he wanted it for himself and his family. That had been the vow he had sworn beneath the Heart Tree beyond the Wall, and unlike Ned Stark, he kept his promises.

Chapter Text

DAENERYS

Her secret nephew and new husband seemed to be more of a savage beast than a man, Daenerys began to think, as she viewed him in the training yard of Winterfell, taking on three different fighters at once. She supposed he would have had to be, in order to survive nearly six years beyond the Wall, and then to become the king of the Wildlings, or Free Folk as they, and he, liked to call themselves. The one who called himself her nephew, Aegon, had been dressed in fine silks when their armies had clashed at Harrenhal, his silver hair and violet eyes reminding her sharply of Viserys. Jon's eyes were of a darker violet, though they seemed to shine with a cold cruelty that was barely kept at bay, though never directed towards her. His rage was directed towards the battle, as he shattered the nose of a northern guard and disarmed the second free folk, shoving him down to the ground with a twist of his legs. The fighting resumed in earnest between Jon and the Wildling warrior Val, her sister wife. That had been a strange drought to swallow, agreeing to a marriage with a man already wed and with three children. But she had little choice, given Aegon's decisive victory in the south and his marriage to the Dornish princess, and her remaining forces in tatters, starving on the seas outside of White Harbor. She and her nephew had wed in the Sept at White Harbor, a great feast held by the rather large lord. It had been nearly a month since then.

"It is strange, your Grace, that I can see more of Rhaegar in your new husband," began her loyal Barristan, "Than in your other nephew to the South."

"The boy calling himself Aegon is not my nephew, Ser Barristan, we have talked about this. He is the Mummer's Dragon. My children would not go near him, which was quite unlike their meeting with Jon."

That had been one of the greatest shocks in her life. With her army defeated by the Golden Company, Daenerys had been at a loss. It was only halfway back to Essos that she had received word of a wildling savage ruling over the North with a cruel hand. She had decided to face this Wildling King and free the North from their chains, hopefully gaining a grateful ally. Jon Snow hadn't flinched once when she landed the three dragons in front of him, and seemed to show no signs of surprise as Rhaegal had bounded forward against her command to nearly beg for scratches. The revelations of that meeting still shocked her. Even her loyal Bear had praised the honor of Ned Stark, though he often cursed the man's name as well, especially when he fell at Harrenhal. To think that such an honorable man had thrown her nephew, a boy, to the cold cruelty of the Wall, and had spread lies about his character, had enraged her. She stopped herself from thinking too much on her treacherous good-brother, letting her nephews wishes of forgetting the very memory of Ned Stark take hold. His tomb had already been sealed over as a wall of smooth stone in the Crypts of Winterfell, and the lords had quickly learned not to speak his name. Not even the little Lord Rickon spoke his father's name, his young mind viewing Jon as more of his father, especially after he had sacked the island of Skagos to reclaim him.

"Does your Grace know where the dragons are?" asked Ser Barristan, "They have not been seen flying over Winterfell for almost a fortnight."

"There is a waterfall and system of caves a small ways away from Winterfell where they have made their home. It is but a few hours away on dragonback. They seem to be happy there."

"I see. Is that where you, King Jon, and Lady Val have been going?"

"Just Jon and I, Val does not wish to be near the dragons."

A clash of steel and loud whooping cheers drew her attention back to the yard, where it would seemed that her husband and sister wife had forgone the sword and spear, and were finishing their duel wrestling in the snow. She began to think on the relationship she had begun to create with the two of them. Her third husband seemed to be the most attentive to her own pleasure, and their nights were of an intense passion, consuming the both of them. On the other hand, the times that she had watched Jon and Val couple were of a brief but wild encounters, sometimes not even bothering to shed their clothes. She had learned that that was how most of the Free Folk fucked, due to the cold weather and lack of beds in the lands beyond the wall. The nights all three of them had spent in bed together brought a blush upon her cheeks as her mind and gaze drifted down towards where Jon had succeeded in pinning Val to the ground, a brief nip to her neck signalling the end of the bout. He helped pull her to her feet and the two began to walk up towards Daenerys and Ser Barristan. Something must have given the trail of thoughts in her mind away, for both Jon and Val smirked as they drew closer, her husband giving her an intense look rivaling the ones he gave as he devoured her as he kissed her offered hand. Val, as always, was far more blunt.

"I think the dragon queen wishes for us to tour the Dothraki camps again Jon, so as we can get away from the whinging kneelers."

"Would that we could," Jon began, "But our meeting with these kneelers involving our war to the south is beginning in a few hours, and we need to all be well awake for such an endeavor."

Ser Barristan frowned, as did Daenerys.

"My apologies, your Grace, but did we not plan our attack last week? We were to invade the Riverlands and secure our southern most border before winter truly came."

"My apologies for the deception, dear wife, but that plan was merely a ploy to ferret out a traitor in our midst. It would appear that my spies have found correspondence between my cousin Sansa and the Spider in King's Landing. Her husband, Lord Hardyng has remained loyal to me, but it would appear she has not left Winterfell last week for the Eyrie, but instead for the capitol. Her message of our false strategy will make it to the Usurper Aegon, but she will not."

"I take it we are not to simply wait out the winter then, or is that a plan I am not yet involved in." said Daenerys crossly.
"You shall be involved in this one, Dany, I promise. And we will not be waiting out the Winter. I intend to strike while these southerners are at peace, and destroy my half-brother's, if he is, reign and dismantle his allies before even meeting him on the battlefield, starting with the traitor in Casterly Rock."

White hot rage coursed through her veins as even her dragons seemed to mirror her emotions, their rage burning through the bond they shared miles away. She had trusted the Imp, allowing him to live and give her council. He had kept his loyalty to her, but only as long as it suited him. She had sacrificed hundreds of her Unsullied in taking the home of the Lannisters for Lord Tyrion, hoping that giving him his family home would secure his loyalty, and perhaps even friendship. That was not to be, for as soon as word of Aegon's taking of the capitol, the dwarf of Casterly Rock had turned coat, forcing her and her armies to run blindly south where they were nearly butchered at Harrenhal by the waiting Golden Company and treacherous Lords.

"As long as the dwarf burns for his treachery, I am in agreement with whatever plans you have for this campaign."

Her Kingsguard behind her stiffened at the rage in her tone, but it seemed to only inflame the looks in Jon and Val's eyes, though Jon's soon turned to a dark and cruelness that gave even Daenerys pause.

"Burning alive will be the least of his punishments. The North Remembers, and the Lannisters owe us a great debt. Now I must see to a few personal affairs, including a message from the south, if you and Val would meet me in the library in an hour or so?"

Val smiled and moved to take Daenerys' hand in hers, not even bothering to acknowledge Ser Barristan as they walked away. It was odd to see the Wildling Queen stride with poise and elegance as they made their way through Winterfell. Had Daenerys not seen her first dressed in armor and painted for battle, she would have laughed when she was introduced as a Wildling woman. Her mannerisms seemed far more of a southern lady than savage warrior, but only when she wore dresses, but even then she had her blades close at hand. As they made their way though the hallways, furred men and women of the free folk stepping aside, Val leaned down to speak softly,

"This Hrakkar pelt you wear, where did you get it? I've never seen such an animal."

"My first husband gave it to me." she replied sharply.

"He was not a good man?" Val asked, seemingly knowing from just the tone of her voice.

"No," Daenerys replied, "He was not. He knew no other way, but it was still a cruel and wrong way."

The two did not speak the rest of their journey to their destination, Daenerys realizing where they were going halfway through, and failing to harden her heart at the pain it began to cause. Val didn't seem to notice as she pulled her and Jon's third child from her crib, quickly feeding the still nameless babe as she woke up hungry. Standing there watching would do her no good, so she moved to the window and began to speak,

"Why have you not named the babe yet? It has been almost six months no?"

Val shrugged, a painful look overcoming her for a moment,

"It is not our way. Children die quickly beyond the Wall, especially babes, as Jon and I experienced before this little pup. Besides, a name is important, and we should see how the little pup is before giving her something that will last her whole life."

Daenerys nodded, her gaze towards the window in the direction of the silver haired twins running around with the other children, Northerners and Free Folk children alike. Rhaegar and Lyanna were not of her own flesh, and she had only known them for but a month, but already her heart was filled with nothing but love for the two five year old children. She wondered who would sit upon her families throne when they were gone, and said as much to Val, who scoffed in amusement.

"They're more Free Folk than Northerner, Dany. This will probably be as far south as they wish to go. It will probably be your children by Jon that sit on that heap of swords in the south, while mine rule Winterfell and north. Maybe even that one in your belly right now."

Daenerys spun around in shock and anger to see her sister wife gently putting the babe back to sleep, holding a hand up to silence her protests as she led her to their bed chambers. Her voice was firm and brokered no argument.

"You and Jon have been fucking for almost a month now. Your tits have been sore, a fact both Jon and I can happily attest to, and these past few days I have been holding your hair back in the morning as you retch away your dinner. You're with child, I'd bet my snow bear pelt upon it."

A wild range of emotions burst through Daenerys, doubt and hope warring between each other. Part of her wished to fervently deny the words the wildling woman spoke, but her blunt honesty tore through the words of the witch. The blossoming hope and joy began to bloom just as the door swung open with a loud slam, a feral looking Jon storming in, his quiet but massive direwolf close behind, snarling a soundless growl. He seemed to pay no attention to his two wives, directing his attentions to the desk in the corner of the room, throwing it to the ground with a thud. The two woman were silent as Jon kept his back to them. After a long silence he turned to them, a wild and near manic look in his eyes as he tossed a small pouch to the floor in between them. To her revulsion, the pouch contained a single bloody nose and two small fingers, and she fought to not spill her stomach. Jon's voice was as cold as the winter snows around them, but it burned with an intensity unlike any other she had seen, a fire that frightened even her.

"He has my little sister. Aegon has Arya as a hostage in King's Landing. He has my fucking baby sister!"

Chapter Text

VAL

Her husband was restlessly pacing the floors of their room, his albino direwolf matching his emotions. The last time he had been like this, it had taken days to calm him down from this manic rage he was about to drown in, and they needed him to be cold and sharp. She looked at the bloody pouch and shrugged before tossing it in the fireplace.

"The Bolton boy gave you a nose from your little sister before, and it was from that serving girl. Why should this nose be hers? It's the same trick, Jon. Trying to get you to lose control and attack recklessly."

A glint of recognition from the beast within Jon's eyes prompted Daenerys to step forward, her voice hesitant but sure.

"If the pretender does truly have a daughter of Ned Stark, it would be more beneficial for him to keep her well to marry her off in order to secure a claim to Winterfell for himself."

"No child of Ned Stark will ever have a claim to Winterfell, ever. So long as I live and breathe, that will never happen." Jon growled out, giving voice to the promise he had made that day the Free Folk found him chained before the Heart Tree. He seemed to calm down, his cold oath giving him strength over the rage that had coursed through him moments ago. Val sat at his side, and shortly after Daenerys on his other. They both grasped their husband's hands for themselves, and waited before he began to slowly speak.

"When my Uncle found my mother, she was delirious from the blood loss, and did not know he had just slain the Kingsguard protecting me. She made my Uncle promise that he would give her soul vengeance by killing Robert for the death of my father, and placing me on the Iron Throne. That was the promise my Uncle swore he would keep for my mother, his own sister. Instead he forced me into a life of a bastard and then shipped me off to the Wall, all to protect his fucking best friend. So when they tried to make me swear my life, my birthright, away that day, I made a different promise. I would fulfill my mother's last wishes and sit the Iron Throne, ruling in honor of my true father, and my true brother and sister. And I would destroy the legacy of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon, along with Catelyn Tully, piece by piece. Killing Stannis was easy, he slew Mance. His daughter is still useful, especially for our plans, at least for now. Having my soldiers kill Edmure Tully in his cells felt good, and I regretted that the Blackfish died in battle. I had intended to drown him in Riverrun as I burned the keep to the ground."

"Is that why you are angry? That a daughter of Ned Stark lives? I thought she was your sister?" asked Daenerys, shock in her eyes.

"I do not intend on punishing the children Dany, they are innocent. I want Rickon and Arya, if this really is her, to live long and happy lives. They are my cousins, my siblings in name. Their claim to Winterfell is all I wish to take from them, to ensure that Ned Stark's legacy dies when he knelt at the Sept of Baelor. But if the Northern Lords find out Arya lives as a hostage, they might question my decisions, our decisions."

"So don't tell them. Did any of them see you speak with the man who gave you the pouch?"

Jon shook his head,

"Only Styr and Sigorn were there, and they're disposing of the messenger after I killed him. But what if they show Arya at the walls of King's Landing, or any other castle we attempt to lay siege to? Having her in their possession is a weapon I would see them disarmed of. If they even have her at all."

"What if there was a way we could find out? Maybe we could get someone inside of King's Landing who could confirm your sister is a hostage there, and maybe even get her out?" said Daenerys.

Jon and Val gave a strange look to Daenerys.

"We already have a potential ally in King's Landing, though they will not move against Aegon before we prove ourselves, and they will not help a spy until then. Who among our number could even infiltrate his ranks, and be trusted enough to enter the Red Keep?

"My Master of Ships, Admiral Aurane Waters. He has served me well in the past. It was his fleet of pirate ships that held the Ironborn Captain Victarion at bay in the waters outside of Volantis, giving me enough time to chase them down and free my son Viserion from the fell horn that Victarion blew. He helped transport my forces from Westeros to Essos, and unlike others, didn't abandon my cause after the defeat I suffered at Harrenhal. He is loyal and true, and would of course be willing to risk himself if commanded to do so."

"Because he wants you," muttered Val, "No sane man would go to such lengths without a reward such as yourself. Now that you're a taken woman, how much of that loyalty will remain."

A coy grin crossed the Dragon Queen's features, smirking as she looked towards their husband,

"Aurane would much rather prefer a Targaryen Prince over a Princess."

Jon's eyes widened comically for a moment, causing Val and Dany to chuckle. It took him a moment to shrug his shoulders and continue speaking,

"I'm flattered, but that has little to do with if he can infiltrate the Red Keep."

"I believe he can. We can perhaps spin a story for him that the Pretender will believe."

A brief knock at the door pulled them away from their thoughts as a young boy called out,

"My King, my Queens, we are all awaiting your presence in the war room. Shall I tell them you are coming or should they wait?"

"We shall be there soon, Dryn. If he is not there already, tell the Onion Knight to make his way to the library as well," replied Jon before waiting a few moments to stand and look at his wives, saying coldly, "Tell no one of Arya in that meeting. We will speak to Aurane later, just the three of us."

Val stood up as well, pulling Jon into a deep kiss, which he returned passionately, before she pulled away with a smirk,

"That can be for later tonight, when we all celebrate the news your dragon wife is about to share with you. Go on sister wife, give him some joy before we plan another war."

With that she laughed and sauntered out of the room, leaving the two alone for a brief moment, but soon she heard the exclaimations of joy as Dany told him she was expecting. Another child would be good for Jon, thought Val, they were a balm to his bitter and cruel soul. In their early years, a part of Val didn't even believe Jon was capable of love, only rough and animalistic fucking. But when he learned of her carrying the twins, he had practically dragged her to Mother Mole and her Weirwood Tree, needing to marry her true. The day he held their children in his arms was the day he understood his Uncle, he had told her. He would never forgive him, nor take back the promise he had made, but he understood him nonetheless. She quickly passed by Tormund and his eldest Torreg, who quickly stepped in line with her.

"How is your new wife Torreg? Are you a southerner yet, or has the fat lord failed in making you follow those seven painted idols?"

"He seems more concerned with making me as fat as he is, I swear I've seen more food on their table than I ever saw five years beyond the Wall. Coming south with King Snow was the smartest thing I ever did, especially with the food and a lovely wife as well. You know, the other day, some kneeler I never met before called me Lord Manderly? Me? All because I wear this fucking merman on me tunic!"

Val smiled and nodded at that, once again seeing the benefits of one of Jon's earliest plans after conquering Winterfell. Nearly every Northern house's heir had been married to a Free Folk chieftain, or their heir. Some had been of their own making, like Sigorn and the Karstark girl. Others had been persuaded by Jon to accept, like Torreg and Gerrick Kingsblood's son to the Manderly granddaughters. Others were still in the process of betrothals, as the word Jon liked to use, like little Ned Umber and the daughter of one of the chiefs of the Nightrunners. It had certainly helped calm relations down between the North and Free Folk, though Val was sure that the fear of King Jon performing another bloody eagle kept them in line. Every member of the Boltons had faced such a gruesome fate, and all the Lords had watched in horror. The North feared Jon Snow far more than they loved him, but that was what he wanted. It was a hard task ahead of her, to make sure that they loved Rhaegar when he ruled them, like her people loved Mance. She always encouraged him and Lyanna to play with others, and not just with Young Jon, Mance's child by her sister Dalla.

Finally they made it to the library, where a single table with a map of the lands before them all, Northern Lords and Free Folk alike, along with her sister wives' loyal followers, such as the old knight and silver haired sea pirate, and the cockless spearmen and horselords. The Lords rose quickly and bowed to her, fearful of the last time one of them had disrespected her, but her people simply gave her the nod she preferred. Eventually Jon and Daenerys entered the room, quickly making their way to the table, Jon standing between his two wives and looking south, towards the city his ancestors had built. After a long pause, he began to softly speak, his voice holding sway over the entire room.

JON

"The pretender who dares call himself my brother is probably sitting on the throne that is rightfully mine, basking in his supposed triumphs, though they are not of his makings. No doubt he will soon receive word that we intend to wait out the winter, and then march south in the summer. We will not be doing that. What does the South know of the Long Night, or of the cold snows of winter? Have they ever seen a blizzard, or been trapped with but a rabbit to last them a fortnight? They are knights of summer, while we are warriors of Winter. The cold is our ally and soon to be their bane."

Daenerys took over from there, surprising most of the men, but they quickly listened and began to smile at her words.

"Our first objective is to take Casterly Rock from Tyrion Lannister. Many of you suffered at the hands of the Lannisters, as did our family, and we intend to honor Robb Stark's last battle plan and take the Rock. My Unsullied alone were enough to conquer the castle but a few months ago, and we know of the secret passage up into the sewers. Whatever paltry force the Imp has stationed there will fall quickly, and vengeance for the Red Wedding will be obtained."

"While this is happening, we will also be setting fire to the villages of the Westerlands, driving them out of their homes and into the snows, and taking their food stores for the winter. We will burn and starve the Westerlands until they have no choice but to cry out for aid from their new King Aegon, and he will no doubt rush to send aid. When he sends help to the Lannisters, it will anger his Dornish relatives and Queen, thus beginning the fractures of the pretender's reign. Our second objective revolves around the Stormlands. Ser Davos, what word have you received from your messages with Ser Andrew Estermont?"

Davos' eyes widened in shock, not knowing his correspondence had been read, but adapting quickly.

"He speaks of revolt in the Stormlands. Many a keep and village has been claimed by the Golden Company when they landed, and the majority of the lords have risen up in defiance of their new overlords. Edric Storm was their rallying cry, but the boy died in a storm on the way home from Lys where he had fled earlier."

"An unfortunate affair, but perhaps the Stormlands would continue their fight in the name of Shireen Baratheon, a trueborn daughter of Lord Stannis? So long as she, and the husband that will be chosen for her, will swear to our reign, I see no troubles in returning Storm's End to their rightful rulers."

Daenerys cocked her head to the side, a frown on her face.

"We shall be giving the usurper Robert's kin their ancestral home back?"

Jon gave his new wife a long look, silently asking for her trust, which after a moment, she gave in the form of a short nod. He would have to explain his true plans later. Shireen would rule from Storm's End, it was true, but she and her house would never rule the Stormlands.

"We shall ensure that House Baratheon can never rise in revolt against our House, that I will promise. But that is not our only goal in the Stormlands. The Hand of the Pretender is the man named Jon Connington, a fool who called himself my father's greatest friend, but has put a usurper on my throne. I intend to repay that loyalty by razing Griffon's Roost to the ground, and hopefully draw him to his ancestral home. Connington raised the pretender Aegon like his own son, and the Pretender will no doubt send his foster father as much as help as he asks for. Killing Connington or holding him captive will be a great boon to our army, and the Pretender's army will be forced to split their numbers between the Westerlands and the Stormlands. When Aegon makes his decision on which kingdom means more to him, we will ambush his traveling forces along the kingsroad by the Unsullied and Knights of the Vale. Once his forces are shattered and we hold at least one other kingdom, an invasion of Dorne by way of the Stepstones will occur by the Dothraki. This will shatter the relations of his Dornish Queen and himself, being unable to defend the lands of the mother he claims to be born of."

"What of the Reach, your Grace?" asked the aging Lord Royce, a troublesome man, but necessary one.

"What of them? While we have had no trouble in getting rid of the Ironborn scum on our lands, they have had great trouble. Last I heard, Oldtown was still under siege, and the Tyrells all died in King's Landing."

Royce believed him to be an honorable man, the mask he wore in the presence of the older man, so he believed the lie. In truth, the Ironborn led by the Crow's Eye had strangely retreated from the fertile lands of the Reach, and had gone south to the Capitol. Though Euron Greyjoy was already dead, killed at the orders of the loyal lord to him in Aegon's court. His fleet was waiting for the signal to make way to the capitol. A burst of inspiration took hold of Jon, and he quickly raised his hand to calm the eager lords and free folk at the map table.

"If there are no more questions, my lords and ladies, then let us prepare to march in a fortnight. Tonight however, we shall feast in celebration of my wife's pregnancy, who carries the true heir to the Iron Throne."

A few cups of earnest cheer came from the free folk, while the Northern Lords nodded begrudgingly. It was Dany's forces who gave the most emotion, the great Ser Barristan almost moved to tears, and Aurane giving a warm smile and hug to them both. The feast that night was loud and rambunctious, the Free Folk and Dothraki making it quite the lively affair. Afterwards, in the royal bedchambers, the king and both queens continued their celebrations long into the early morning.

BARRISTAN

The last time he had been there, the godswood of Winterfell had been an eerie but calming place. Now in the early morning, it was a cold and savage place, with animal carcasses draped across the white branches. The King sat there near the frozen pool, cleaning a sword of Valyrian Steel. It was his Queen that recognized the blade first.

"Is that Dark Sister? Where did you get it?"

"From the bones of Brynden Rivers, Bloodraven himself, deep in a cave beyond the Haunted Forest. I had heard news of my cousin Bran traveling beyond the Wall, and had sought to find him," the King paused at this, a frown crossing his features for a brief moment before he continued, "Unfortunately, a rival of mine, who went by the name, the Lord of Bones, was also on his trail. He managed to get to him first, and slew him and his companions in the cave, but I killed Rattleshirt in answer. When we were inspecting the cave, I found this sword and journal. It has served me faithfully since, and will soon serve our child. Unless we wish to give Blackfryre to our child, I am told Aegon carried it into battle?"

"Yes, a fact he loved to boast about and show me." growled the Queen.

"The sword of royal bastards. An interesting choice, though you say the Pentoshi magister gave it to him?"

"That was what he said when we met at Harrenhal before he ambushed my forces. Why do you ask?"

The King sheathed his sword and looked briefly at the Queen before his gaze turned to him.

"The Hightowers of Oldtown have not forgotten that Ser Gerold gave his life defending my mother and myself, and would much rather see us on the throne than this pretender. I have been told by Lord Leyton himself that he hold papers of my legitimacy from the Citadel itself. All he asks in return is proof that Aegon is false. If we could send Aurane back to Pentos to bring Illyrio here, or perhaps fly ourselves if the dragons are large enough, then we can convince him to tell the truth, and we will have surrounded Aegon on all sides, potentially winning the war before it even starts. Lord Leyton might have Aegon's throat slit in the Red Keep itself before our armies can even cross the Trident."

"What makes you think the word of a Pentoshi Magister will convince a man such as Lord Hightower?"

"According to you, Aegon boasted that Illyrio helped fund and sway the Golden Company to his side, even after they made a contract in Myr. Even in Winterfell we knew that they never broke a contract, so why would they? Unless it was for a Blackfyre, perhaps from the female line after you slew the males with Maelys, Ser Barristan."

"And what if he truly is your half-brother, your Grace?" asked Ser Barristan, finally given word to the nightmare in his dreams.

The King and Queen were silent for a few long moments, before Daenerys said softly,

"He is the mummer's dragon, Ser Barristan, I have seen it. Kinvara at Volantis said it as well, repeating the words Quaithe said to me all those years ago."

He began to speak up, when the King held up a single hand, his voice cold and dark, causing Ser Barristan's heart to drop.

"No matter his first answer, Illyrio will scream until he says the words we wish him to say. You may stay here, Ser Barristan, while the Queen and I ride for the dragons. Ghost will protect us, he is unquestionably loyal."

As the two Targaryens walked away from the old knight, Barristan cast his gaze to the weeping face of blood red tears in the tree before him. He had always been a follower of the Seven, but now he prayed to both that his Queen and new King's conviction was correct, and that his final years in service to House Targaryen were not the time when the Sons of Rhaegar tore each other apart.

Chapter Text

BAELOR

"I don't understand! Why has my little brother not answered any of my ravens? Why is he attacking the Stormlands and Westerlands?"

It was difficult to not roll his eyes at the whining tone of voice the newest King of the Seven Kingdoms had taken on for his small council meeting, but Baelor had been well trained in hiding his true emotions. With his father taking lead in this meeting, he was content to watch as the council struggled to find a way to answer their newest King. Unfortunately, it was the Dornish Queen that answered first.

"Who cares what the bastard of Rhaegar's whore is doing. His army of heathens and savages will fall before your army and you can send him back to the Wall where he belongs."

The resounding smack across Arianne Martell's face nearly knocked her to her feet, and Baelor watched as a few of the Dornish guards and Golden Company soldiers put their hands on their blades. Aegon stepped forward and into his wife's space, snarling as he spat out,

"Do not even dare to speak of my brother that way. I don't care if he's a bastard or trueborn, he's my little brother, and I will not have you or any of your family say other wise. And if you ever mention his exile beyond the Wall I will send your father to man Castle Black in his place. May the Seven curse Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully for all eternity for throwing my baby brother to the Wall. He and my Aunt should have been here with me in King's Landing. The dragons should be united, not torn apart."

It was the Spider who stepped forward, his nauseating perfume covering the room,

"A noble intent, my King, and a true sign of your benevolence. I do worry that the unfortunate years beyond the Wall with the Wildlings has changed your baby brother. His brutal campaign in the North and Riverlands was of a savage nature, one nearing madness. He no doubt had a hand in the deaths of the remaining members of House Tully, and though he keeps the child of Roslin Frey and Edmure Tully alive in Winterfell, he has allowed the Riverlands to descend into chaos with no attempts to rule over it. The brutal death of Lord Baelish was a gift to the Realm, even I must admit that, but I do believe the death of Lady Sansa was also of his machinations. He appears to be consolidating power and reaching for more with every passing week. I do believe he intends to march on the capitol soon, once he has won over the Northern Kingdoms by destroying Casterly Rock, and gaining the Stormlands with his campaign to seat Lady Shireen back in Storm's End. It is his newest ally that gives me the greatest worry."

The group of boot licking sycophants looked over to the master of whispers in confusion, and it was Lord Celtigar who asked first,

"Who could be more worrisome than a horde of Wildling savages?"

"His new wife, Daenerys Targaryen," said Baelor, stepping to the table, "and her army of Dothraki, Unsullied, and three dragons. They appear to have united their claims against yours, my King."

Everyone was quiet as Aegon stopped talking and looked down to the table. His hands clenched multiple times before he sighed in frustration.

"I have no wish to fight my brother or Aunt, I refuse to do so."

"Your Aunt would think differently after Harrenhal."

"That was the result of an overzealous Lord who led his forces against my Aunt's camp. I had no intention of fighting her, I wanted to marry her and then together bring my brother south to his true family. Instead I was given incompentant and disloyal lords, and a harlot for a wife." replied Aegon as he glared at Arianne, who simply pulled up her skirts and strode out the door, her Dornish retinue following.

"Good riddance. Be that as it may, I still wish for peace within my family. Our House has lost too much, I will not allow what few remains to tear each other apart. There must be a way to make peace with Jon and Daenerys."

As most of the group began to frown or nod, Baelor stepped forward, glancing and motioning towards the glowering Lord Connington,

"I do not know if peace is possible, my King, but I do know that you should not go yourself to treat with your family. Perhaps, you could send Lord Connington in your stead. He was your father's greatest friend and ally, surely he can convince the sons of Rhaegar to lay down their arms and come to peace? I have a fast ship in my House's navy that can take him to White Harbor if needed."

Aegon nodded and looked over to Lord Connington, who after a moment gave a short nod of agreement as he stepped forward.

"What are your terms to give to your half-brother, your Grace?"

Aegon's answer was firm and resolute,

"First and foremost, I will recognize Jon as my trueborn brother and give him our family name. He and Daenerys may keep their titles of King and Queen of the North, the Vale, and the Riverlands, and I will recognize those kingdoms as independent but allied with my kingdoms. In return for them removing their forces from the Westerlands, I will denounce Lord Tyrion as a traitor to House Targaryen, and give him to Jon and Daenerys to face trial for his betrayal of my Aunt. Tommen Lannister will remain a hostage here in King's Landing. In return for them removing their forces from the Stormlands, I will find a match worthy for Lady Baratheon and install her and her husband back onto Storm's End, perhaps your nephew, Lord Connington. Furthermore, I will name my brother's children by his wildling mistress as Starks, and they shall rule Winterfell and the North. He and Daenerys will inherit and be known as the Prince and Princess of Summerhall. Finally, when they come of age, my firstborn son by Arianne will marry his and Daenerys' firstborn daughter, and their marriage shall unite the Seven Kingdoms once more."

Connington began to sputter as the rest of the council looked on in shock.

"Your Grace, Aegon, these demands are quite costly and generous, perhaps you should ..."

His voice was cut short when Aegon held his hand up, silencing the rest of the council as well.

"No price is too high to bring my family back together again. Please Jon, for the love you bore my father, for the loyalty you have to me, do not fail me in this endeavor. Help bring my family home and whole once more."

Connington's nod and bow was of a more resolute nature, and he turned to face Baelor's father.

"Lord Hightower, I require your fastest vessel. We must leave immediately."

"Of course, Lord Hand, myself and my son will escort you to the docks immediately. By your leave, my King."

With that the council dispersed to their various duties, as Baelor and his father began to walk briskly away from the speaking Aegon and Lord Connington. Once they were in a quiet area, and both had inspected it for peepholes and little birds, Leyton spoke quietly,

"King Jon has sent proof from the word of Magister Illyrio Mopatis. He says that this boy is a pretender, born of a female line of Blackfyres, a plan made by Lord Varys and the Magister since the fall of Maelys."

Baelor growled out,

"So a Blackfyre spawn intends to pass himself off as Elia's son? By what right does he even think to invoke her name."

Leyton looked oddly at him for a moment before continuing,

"Regardless, we must ensure that the Blackfyres never gain a foothold in the Seven Kingdoms. I shall deal with Lord Varys on behalf of King Jon and Queen Daenerys, and you shall Lord Connington as a hostage to the rightful King. Paxter and I will blockade the capitol and remove our aid from its streets. Hopefully this war will be over soon, and our House will be rewarded for it's true loyalty to House Targaryen."

"Yes, my Lord Father. Grand Uncle Gerold gave his life defending King Jon from Ned Stark and his dogs, we will not forget his sacrifice, or let a Blackfyre profit from it."

The two of them shook hands once as Lord Connington walked by, falling into step with the two as they made their way to the docks and aboard the Honor of Oldtown. As the capitol began to grow smaller and smaller behind them, Baelor smiled to himself and gave a short nod to his loyal guards around him. At once they jumped upon the surprised Lord Connington, binding and gagging him as others silently slew the men loyal to the Hand and tossed their bodies overboard.

"Take him to the brig, and send a raven to the Northern Forces of our cargo."

A Few Days Later

Baelor watched silently as Connington came to slowly, his body bound by the ropes he had been tied in. Muffled shouts and curses were all he seemed to be capable of at the moment until he finally settled down, his shoulders sagging in defeat, his eyes given voice to the question he could not speak.

"Gerold Hightower gave his life defending Queen Lyanna and her child from the Usurper's Dog. As soon as we learned of the boy's survival when he returned from Beyond the Wall, we have always been loyal to him, and our betrayal of your King was inevitable," at that moment, Baelor paused to see the shock and pain hit the Lord of Griffon's Roost, before he smiled once more and continued, "my father intends to betroth my daughter to King Jon's son, a worthy match for the future Crown Prince. I, on the other hand, wish for nothing more than to see all of House Targaryen burn for what they did to my Elia."

The expression on Connington's face was so comical Baelor had to laugh for a moment, finally reigning it in as he began to give voice to secrets he had held onto for decades.

"You loved your silver Prince, the realm knew that, but what they didn't know was that I loved his wife long before she was his. When Elia and her brother came to Oldtown, I was bewitched by her beauty and grace and charm. As the days grew, so did my love for her as we spent more time together. Alas, to my shame, it was not to be, for after that unfortunate incident at our final dinner, I was forever known as Baelor Breakwind to her, and she laughed in my face. But I accepted my loss, and wished her the best. After all, when compared to the Lady of Oldtown, who wouldn't want to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms instead. I had to watch, helpless, as she was shamed at Harrenhal, and then left to the filth of the Capitol while Rhaegar, her husband, chased after some Northern bitch who could joust, and all for nothing. Now we have some pretender claiming to be her son, who should have been my son and hers, as well as that bitch's bastard fighting for the Iron Throne. I couldn't let the shame and dishonor upon Elia's memory stand, so I acted."

Baelor stood and began to pace the small quarters of the brig, near oblivious to the look of fear and terror on Connington's face as he began to speak of his deeds.

"I sabotaged the peace talks between Aegon and Daenerys at Harrenhal. A Valyrian bride would have given him to much legitimacy, and my House's Loyalty was to King Jon, or Jaehaerys, if the High Septon's letter was to be believed. It was easy to convince Randyll Tarly to attack the Dragon Queen's camp, he hated the foreigners she brought over, and wished his son to be the future Lord of the Reach, he never expected me to kill him and his entire house after the fact, even the fat son on the Wall. I ensured that Aerys' daughter would make her way North, where I hoped she would clash with her other nephew, but their marriage does not deter from my plans. I have been the one intercepting all of Aegon's ravens of peace to his younger brother, ensuring that none make their way to Winterfell, the Maester there is loyal to the Citadel, and they also wish the death of the Dragons. I also ensured that Aegon found his new Dornish wife in one of her many trysts, thus shattering their marriage and his love of House Martell into an unfixable mess, as you saw in the Council Meeting. To give incentive to the Targaryens in the North, I sent, on Aegon's behalf, a pouch containing the nose and fingers of Arya Stark, Jon's little sister, or cousin. In truth it wasn't the real Arya, she remains my prisoner in the Hightower, unknown to even my father, but the damage was done. Now the North marches south once more, and war will ravage the Seven Kingdoms, and the only forces that will suffer are the Targaryens."

Baelor paused at this, looking down at the now weeping Lord Connington. He moved towards the door and knocked once, allowing the two soldiers, and the tray they carried access to the room. His face was grim, and his eyes alight with darkness as he continued to speak,

"I intend to ensure that Aegon and Jon continue this war for as long as it can take, whittling down the Golden Company, the Wildlings, and even the dragons if I can be so lucky. My House will then ensure that Jon sits upon the Iron Throne after the pretender lies dead at his feet, and House Hightower will give all of our aid and resources of the Reach to help rebuild the shattered Seven Kingdoms once more, forever binding our fealty and trust to the new King and Queen. Once that is done, and I become Lord Hightower, an event coming ever closer with my father's current health, I shall spend the rest of my life bringing honor to Elia by utterly destroying House Targaryen until there is nothing left of them but ashes."

Baelor stopped and walked over to the tray, pulling the cloth back and nodding to the guards, who pulled a nearby brazier over as Baelor gripped a long pair of tongs and stuck them in..

"You will be an invaluable hostage to King Jon, one that will ensure that Aegon brings his army to your defense. Of course, there probably won't be much left of you, since I will tell his Grace that you were the one to suggest sending Arya's nose and fingers to him, and even did the deed yourself. He and his wildling savages will no doubt take their time tearing you apart, but I don't think he will mind if I get a head start on the process."

With that Baelor pulled the tongs from the fire, the tips white hot. He looked over to the quaking Lord Hand, and gave a grim smile,

"Do you recall, my Lord Hand, what King Aerys did to Ser Illyn Payne?"