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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.

Chapter Text

The funeral of Laena Velaryon had been a solemn affair, though Aegon had made a valiant effort to ruin the funeral by looking as bored and as uninterested in the affair as he could manage.

Jon had done his best to be respectful during the funeral rites, an action shared by Aemond, who had stood to his right, and Daeron, who had stood to his left.

In spite of Aemond’s previous reservations about attending the funeral, Aemond had evidently decided that he would be on his best behavior for the funeral, if only for their mother’s sake.

It was a shame that his good behavior would not last.

Out of all of them, it was Helaena who seemed to be the only one who was genuinely saddened by the Late Lady Laena’s death, as she had been fond of the Lady Laena and her daughters, she had enjoyed their company during the few times their uncle Daemon had visited the Capitol with his family.

It was not that Jon hated the Lady Laena, he simply did not know her enough to feel particularly sad at her passing.

Even if she had been their uncle’s wife and the mother of their cousins, as well as their own cousin, she did not truly feel like their kin, and it did not help that Jon was not fond of his uncle in the first place.

Daeron had been called from Oldtown to attend the funeral, if Daeron had been annoyed at having to travel from Oldtown to Driftmark all to attend a funeral for a woman who was only truly their kin in name only, then his younger brother had succeeded at hiding it under a polite and solemn mask.

The Lady Laena’s uncle, Ser Vaemond Velaryon had delivered the eulogy in High Valyrian, delivering the final goodbye to his niece.

Jon had found it odd that the Lady Laena’s father or brother had not delivered the eulogy, though Jon supposed that mayhaps they were drowning in grief, and as such they had left the duty of delivering the eulogy to Vaemond, who was perhaps not as affected as his brother, good sister, and nephew were.

If Jon had any love for his uncle Daemon, it had died when the man had begun laughing at his own wife’s funeral.

While Jon had never had been particularly fond of the Lady Laena, he did not hate her either, and she was still his kin, however distant she was, she did not deserve such casual disregard from her husband.

He could not imagine Lord Stark doing anything so callous at Lady Stark’s funeral.

Jon had never been fond of his uncle in the first place, and he was sure the feeling was mutual.

He still remembered the first time he and his siblings had met Prince Daemon, the way his uncle had looked at him and his brothers had been enough to erase any awe he may have had at meeting such a legendary figure.

He had looked at them like a viper sizing up its prey, with cold eyes. It had reminded Jon of Lord Stark’s tales of Lord Tywin Lannister.

Rhaenyra had looked saddened as well, and Jon’s heart had gone out to her. Even if he did not approve of her relations with him, losing her paramour could not have been easy, nor could it have been easy to lose the Lady Laena, who had been her cousin, good sister, and her friend as well.

His nephews also appeared to be mourning, and Jon’s heart had gone out to them as well. As it had gone out to Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys, and his cousins Baela and Rhaena.

After they had cast the Lady Laena’s casket into the water, they had gathered in a stone alcove to talk, drink, and reminisce.

It could not be called a celebration in truth, it was too mournful for that, the Lady Laena’s passing casted a large shadow over all who attended.

Aside from Aegon of course, who seemed determined to cause a greater feud between House Velaryon and their side of the family than what already existed.

Daeron drew him out of his musings with a tap on his shoulder. Jon turned to regard his little brother as the boy sighed. “Brother, did you even hear what I just said?”

Jon shook his head, an apologetic look on his face. “No, I am afraid not, what is it, little brother?”

Daeron scowled at that. “I’m only three years younger than you, Baelor, you can hardly call me little.”

Jon rolled his eyes at that. “Never mind that; what did you want to say to me?”

Daeron nodded at that. “Right, I think we should offer our condolences to our cousins and nephews, they have lost their close kin, after all.”
Jon nodded at that, Daeron had a good head on his shoulders. “Yes, that would be only proper.”

Awkwardly enough, Daeron the Daring had been something of a boyhood hero for Jon, though he had preferred Aemon the Dragonknight and Daeron the Young Dragon.

It was hard to imagine his little brother as such a valiant figure, even if the boy was devoted to chivalry even now at such a young age.

Daeron looked to their cousins, and then to their nephews. “Should we offer our condolences to our cousins first, or their nephews.”

Jon looked to the Late Lady Laena’s daughters, and the back at Daeron. “We should offer them to our cousins first, they have been the most affected by their mother’s passing, after all.”

And in truth, their nephews were likely mourning Ser Harwin more than Lady Laena, but Jon left that unsaid, it would not do to mention such a thing when the King, their elder sister, and Lord Corlys were present.

Though regardless of why they were mourning, his nephews did have a right to sympathy, Ser Harwin was their father but more than that a good friend of their family as well.

Jon had been similarly saddened when word had reached him of Jory’s death, a lifetime ago.

Though Jory had not been fucking Lady Stark.

Shaking his head as if to dispel his thoughts, Jon followed Daeron to where their cousins, the ladies Baela and Rhaena, were sitting on their lonesomes.

They did not notice their approach, so absorbed they were in their grief, so Jon cleared his throat to get their attention. “Cousins, we would like to offer you our sympathy.”

Daeron awkwardly fiddled with his hands. “We are sorry for your loss.”

Baela looked up at them, her eyes red and puffy. “Your support is appreciated.”

Jon took the polite dismissal for what it was. “Come, Daeron, we have yet to offer our sympathy to our nephews as well.”

Daeron followed him as he searched for their nephews, Luke appeared to be speaking with Lord Corlys, but Jace was still standing by his lonesome.

Unlike their cousins, Jace noticed their approach, eyeing them warily. “Uncles.”

Jon inclined his head toward him as if in acknowledgment. “Nephew, we would like to offer our condolences for your loss.”

Daeron nodded. “You have our sympathy, nephew.”

Jace stayed silent for a time, before finally answering them. “Thank you, uncles.”

Jon clasped him on the shoulder. “If you ever need someone to talk to, I would be happy to lend you my ear.”

Daeron nodded yet again. “Mine as well, nephew.”

With that said, Daeron and Jon walked off. Jon turned to Daeron. “So, brother, how have you been fairing in Oldtown? I trust Lord Onmund is not too harsh a task master?”

Daeron puffed up his chest in pride. “Lord Onmund is strict, but fair, and I have pleased him with my good conduct and diligence, grandfather and Lord Onmund have had nothing but high praise for me.”

Jon chuckled at that, and mussed up little Daeron’s hair like he had once done with Arya. “That is good to hear, little brother, it sounds as though you are on your way to becoming a Knight worthy of the songs.”

Daeron had the grace to look embarrassed at such high praise. “H-hopefully!”

He really was like Bran.

Daeron recovered from having been flustered remarkably quickly. “And what about you? Have you been serving as a page?”

Jon nodded. “I have been serving as a page for our father, along with Aemond, though mother has designs on having me squire for our uncle Ser Gwayne.”

Daeron smiled at that. “Uncle Gwayne is a true Knight and a good Captain of the City Watch, you will do well under him.”

“Indeed, as for Aegon and Aemond, Aegon already squires fo Ser Criston and mother seems to have designs on having Aemond join him as Ser Criston’s second squire.”

Daeron nodded. “Ser Criston is a true Knight as well, a good choice, though I believe that Aemond shall be more diligent in his duties than Aegon.”

Jon laughed at that. “That much is beyond doubt, little brother.”

Daeron joined him in his laughter as they joined Aemond and Aegon, as they watched Helaena play with a spider.

Aegon was grimacing as he watched her. “She’s boring, and she prefers her bugs to people.”

Aemond scowled at Aegon. “She’s our sister, and she has a good head on her shoulders, she will come to match mother one day, I am sure of it.”

Aegon scowled back at Aemond. “You marry her then, she could have the wits of the crone herself for all I care, it does not change that I do not wish to marry her.”

Aemond crossed his arms over his chest. “I would perform my duty, if mother had only betrothed us instead.”

Aegon scoffed at that. “If only.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “We shouldn’t be marrying our sisters at all, it’s… wrong. Besides, marrying for alliances would be more useful anyways.”

Aemond eyed Jon. “It strengthens the family, keeps our Valyrian blood pure.”

Jon chuckled. “I would think that swords and long axes and lances would strengthen us far more, but I am not mother, nor am I father, so it is not my decision.”

Aemond shook his head. “What are paltry armies compared to Dragons? The purity of our blood is what keeps them bound to us.”

Jon sighed. “Well, we only have one sister, and mother has bid that Aegon be the one to keep our blood pure, the rest of us will have to be content with Andal wives, for which I am glad.”

Even if he had been born again as a Targaryen, he had been raised a Stark, Jon did not wish to engage in such abominations.

Aegon looked back at them. “Well… There is one thing I have in common with our dear sister, we both like creatures with long legs.” He chuckled at that, the only one to find such a jape amusing, he then clapped his hands together when he saw a passing servant girl. “Wench! Another!”

Aemond scowled at that. “Bloody lecher, it’s like he wants to disgrace himself.”

Jon shrugged. “He is our elder brother, it is our duty to stand by him, even if he does not make such a thing easy.”
He spoke with Aemond and Daeron long for the rest of the day, Princess Rhaenys comforted her granddaughters, Lord Corlys continued to speak with Lucerys, and Lord Strong continued to stare at their mother.

Eventually, the whereabouts of Ser Laenor was put to question, which angered Lord Corlys, who rounded on Ser Qarl Correy, who all knew to be Ser Laenor’s lover. “Retrieve your patron.”

Ser Qarl did as he was bid, even if Lord Corlys had practically shouted that he and his patron were lovers from the rooftops with his command.

Prince Daemon and their father spoke for a while, before eventually the guests began filing out, the time to go to bed soon approaching.

Their father walked over to their mother. “I’m going to be, Aemma.”

Ser Harrold looked between their mother and the King. “Shall I see after Queen Alicent, your grace?”

Viserys looked confused for a moment, before regaining his bearings. “No, Ser Harrold.”

Ser Harrold turned to Ser Criston. “You have the night’s watch, Ser Criston.”

Ser Criston gave a slight nod. “Lord Commander.”

Aemond cursed their father loudly after that. “Bastard, what does a ghost of a woman have, that our mother does not.”

Jon shook his head. “He is growing old Aemond, mayhaps that was a mistake born from a sickness of the mind.”

Daeron nodded. “And you should not slander the King like that.”

Aemond was about to say something, but he did not as their grandsire, Ser Otto Hightower, the chain of office of the Hand of the King once again around his neck, angrily walked by them to where Aegon was sitting, having drunk more than his fair share of wine.

“Brother?” But it was not one of his brothers, as Aegon quickly learned as Ser Otto kicked him in the side.

Aegon gasped as Otto grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him up. “Get up, and go to bed.”

Ser Otto dragged him toward the castle as they looked on, and eventually Daeron followed him back to the castle as well.
Only he and Aemond remained when Vhagar roared in the distance, as Aemond looked out into the wilderness of Driftmark.

Jon decided that the time to pretend that he did not know what Aemond intended to do was at an end, it would be easier to save the boy’s eye if they could work together after all. “You intend to claim Vhagar, do you not?”

Aemond looked back at him, resolute. “Do not try to stop me brother, I will have a Dragon worthy of me, not some stupid hatchling.”

Their father had meant well when he had offered to take Aemond to Dragonstone to give him an egg, Jon knew, but Aemond obviously did not see it that way.

He saw it as yet more mockery for not having a Dragon.

Jon shook his head. “I do not intend to stop you brother, only to help you. The Velaryons will not take kindly to you taking Lady Laena’s dragon so soon after her funeral.”

Guilt flashed across Aemond’s face for but a moment, before his resolve hardened. “If they felt entitled to Vhagar then one of them should have claimed her, a Dragon is not a Lordship to be passed down from father to son, mother to daughter. Besides, our own Grandsire Prince Baelon was the rider of Vhagar before Lady Laena, and she did not ask father for permission before claiming her.”

Jon sighed. “Yes, I agree, but the Velaryons will not see it that way, you will need someone to watch your back, brother.”

Aemond grinned. “Then come along now brother, Vhagar awaits me.”

It did not take them long to find Vhagar, she was resting on the dunes by the sea, she was so large that Jon would have believed her to be a hill, were she not breathing.

Jon could not help but be in awe of the mount of VIsenya, the only remaining creature to have seen Aegon’s conquest.

Ronnel Arryn had ridden with Visenya on Vhagar around the Eyrie, when Visenya had own the fealty of the Vale.

Arya would have been giddy with excitement, Jon knew, the thought made him sad.

Aemond approached the slumbering Vhagar, the boy was practically trembling with barely contained excitement. He walked to the ropes that Lady Laena had once used to climb onto her saddle and reached for them.

As he was about to clasp a hand around a rope, Vhagar opened its eye and stirred awake, causing Aemond to stumble back a few steps, though he kept his balance.

Vhagar lifted up her head and looked at Aemond, who met her gaze, though his fear was self-evident.

Eventually, Vhagar went back to sleep, believing Aemond to have been cowed.

She was but a Dragon, so Jon could forgive her for misjudging his brother so greatly.

Aemond repeated his previous action, and reached for the ropes.

Vhagar lifted her head up once again, and looked at Aemond, opening her maw and preparing to breath fire upon him.

Jon was about to push his brother out of the way when Aemond lifted his hand to Vhagar’s face and held his ground against the Dragon, his previous fear forgotten. “Dohaeras!” He screamed. “Dohaeras, Vhagar! Lykiri! Lykiri!”

Vhagar closed her maw, and Jon breathed a sigh of relief.

Aemond looked relieved as well. “Lykiri.”

Vhagar stared at the boy, sniffing him.

Aemond took this as a sign of acceptance, and began climbing up the ropes to the Dragon’s saddle.

Vhagar watched him as he climbed up to the saddle, before turning back to look ahead after he reached it.

Aemond familiarised himself with the saddle, before taking out Lady Laena’s old whip.

He whipped Vhagar, rather gingerly as most riders did on their first flights, on the neck. “Soves!” Aemond whipped her on the neck again, harder this time. “Dohaeras, Vhagar! Soves!”

Jon stepped back as Vhagar stepped forward, shaking the ground with her sheer weight.

Vhagar roared and began trying to shake Aemond off, one final test by the Dragon for her new rider, it would seem.

Aemond held on, and from there on Vhagar was his, it seemed to Jon.

Vhagar sprinted forward as Aemond screamed, and quickly took off.

Jon smiled as they left; all that was left now was to ensure Luke did not take Aemond’s eye.

It did not take Jon long to find his way back to the entrance to Driftmark; he knew that they would likely confront Aemond here, so Jon leaned against a wall as he waited for his brother, his nephews, and his cousins.

His cousins and nephews arrived; first, the girls glared at him whilst his nephew merely looked shocked.

“So you were his accomplice?” Baela, or Rhaena, he found it difficult to tell them apart, accused him.

Jon nodded. “Yes, I helped him.”

Jace looked at him, a betrayed look on his face. “Baelor, how cou-”

Aemond’s return interrupted him.

The girls glared as he approached. “It’s him.”

“It’s me.”

Jon rolled his eyes at Aemond’s bravado. “Yes, yes, brother, you are the heir of Visenya, the rider of the mightiest Dragon; try not to get a big head.”

Aemond walked up to him and stood beside him, before elbowing him in the side. “Shut up, Baelor. This is my day.”

Rhaena, he thinks she is, clenched her fists. “Vhagar was my mother’s Dragon.”

Aemond shrugged. “Your mother’s dead. And Vhagar has a new rider now.”

Jon elbowed Aemond in the ribs. “That was poorly done.”

Aemond rolled his eyes but said nothing.

Rhaena was enraged. “She was mine to claim!”

Aemond barked out a laugh. “Then you should have claimed her! Mayhaps your cousins can find you a pig to ride, it might suit you.”

Before Jon could reproach Aemond yet again, Rhaena let out an enraged cry and flew at Aemond.
Aemond grabbed her and threw her down to the floor.

Baela punched him then, and after a moment of silence Aemond punched her back.

“Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my Dragon!”

Jon grabbed Aemond’s arm, who turned to look at him, a crazed look in his eye. “Aemond, stop!”

Aemond shoved him off. “Let go of me!”

Jace and Luke attacked Aemond then, and Jon resigned himself to fighting with his arse of a brother.

He would be more likely to keep Aemond from losing an eye if he fought with him rather than just standing about, but that did not make Jon any happier with Aemond’s behavior.

Jon took on Jace, punching him across the face. To the boy’s credit he took the blow well, and threw a punch of his own, though Jon blocked it with ease.

This was less than child’s play for him, in his first life he had bloodied himself in battle, compared to that these children were less than green boys.

Jon then kicked Jace to the ground, before finding himself being attacked by Lucerys.

To the boy’s credit, he put up a valiant effort, and Jon was sure if he had been fighting Daeron, who was his own age as well as his milk brother, that he would have had a fair chance at winning.

But Jon was the Ninety-Eighth commander of the Night’s Watch, and the best sword in Winterfell.

Jon put the boy in a headlock, restraining him, before shoving him to the ground.

Aemond had done well in fighting the daughters of Laena, having beaten them down more than three times.

Though Jon was not sure whether or not he should feel pride in that, they were only little girls, after all, they had less fighting skill than even their nephews.

Aemond looked at the downed boys and laughed. “What a pitiful display, I thought you two were Strongs? What would your father Ser Harwin say if he could see you now?”

Jon looked back at him. “Aemond…”

Aemond laughed. “What? Don’t tell me you are actually afraid of these bastards, Baelor; you handled them easily enough, and it isn’t like these little girls can threaten us either.”

It was then that Ser Harrold came in. “Cease this at once!”

And they soon found themselves dragged into the Sea Snake’s Solar.

Their father was… unhappy to say the least.

“How could you allow such an incident to occur.” The King looked between his two Kinsguard. “I will have answers.”

Ser Harrold looked regretful. “The Princes were supposed to be abed, my King.”

“Who had the watch?”

Ser Criston was not as cowed as Ser Harrold. “The young princes were attacked by their own cousins, Your Grace.”

Their father was only angered by this. “You are sworn to defend my blood!”

Ser Harrold looked down, seemingly ashamed. “I am very sorry, Your Grace.”

Ser Criston was not shaken by their father’s wrath. “The Kinsguard have never had to defend princes from princes, Your Grace.”

“That is no answer!”

Lord Corlys and his lady wife entered then, rushing to the side of their grandchildren, and Rhaenyra entered soon after, rushing to the side of her sons, with Daemon slinking in behind her.

Wild accusations began to fly between them then, though Jon remained silent.

“Silence!” Their father yelled, finally getting the children to quiet down. He turned to Jon, it seemed he had noticed his silence. “Baelor, I will have the truth of what happened.”

If he wanted to, Jon could smear his cousins and nephews, and make he and Aemond out as purely the victims in the whole affair. His mother would likely approve of such an action, as would his grandsire, but Lord Stark had always taught him to tell the truth, and so Jon would.

Jon cleared his throat and looked his father in the eye. “Aemond claimed Vhagar with my help, the Ladies Baela and Rhaena confronted us with the aid of their cousins Jace and Luke, Aemond bickered with the girls for a while before the Lady Rhaena attacked him, and he fought back. It turned to a fight, we won, Aemond insulted our nephews, and then Ser Harrold and Ser Criston found us, you know the rest father.”

Viserys looked at him questioningly. “What insults?”

Jon looked at Aemond, and then back to his father again, swallowing down his fear before answering. “He called them bastards, father, he claimed that they were fathered by the late Ser Harwin Strong.”

His elder sister took her turn to speak then. “My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace; this is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.”

Jon’s blood ran cold; she would torture him? A boy? Over something she knew to be true?

His mother was similarly affronted. “Over an insult?”

Viserys walked over to Aemond. “You tell me, boy, where did you hear this lie?”

His lady mother attempted to dismiss the line of questioning. “It was training yard bluster, the lot of boys; it was nothing.”

Viserys ignored her. “Aemond… I asked you a question.”

His lady mother attempted to divert the King’s attention away instead. “Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys’ father, perhaps he might have something to say on the matter.”

It seemed to work, at least somewhat; the King looked away from Aemond and turned a questioning look on his eldest daughter. “Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know, Your Grace. I… could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk.”

His Lady mother merely smirked. “Entertaining his young squires, I would venture.

Ser Criston dared to chuckle at that.

The diversion could only work for so long, however. “Aemond… Look at me.

Aemond looked at him.

“Your King demands an answer; who spoke these lies to you.”

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they awaited Aemond’s answer. Aemond looked to his mother before looking back at their father. “It was Aegon.”

It was almost comical how gobsmacked Aegon looked as the entire room turned to him. “Me?”

Viserys rounded on Aegon. “And you, boy. Where did you hear such calumnies?”

When Aegon did not answer, their father grew angry. “Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

Aegon swallowed his fear. “We know, father. Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

A moment of silence followed after Aegon’s proclamation; it was deafening that Jon almost felt crushed by the weight of it.

Finally, their father had enough of the gawking at his grandsons. “This interminable infighting must cease! All of you! We are a family!” He looked over them all. “Now make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!”

The heir then looked to their father. “And the slander, father? We cannot let this go unpunished.”

The King waved her off. “Very well, Aemond, from here on, for four months you shall only be able to ride your dragon once a week, as for the rest of you….” He looked toward his wife. “Let it be known that anyone whose tongues dare to question the births of Princess Rhaenyra’s children will have them removed.”

And with that proclamation, the matter was at an end.