Kapitel 28: Family
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Jon Snow
After showing the dragon to his uncle, the prince felt his eyes heavy with sleep; he told his guards it was time for him to sleep. But he also told them they didn't need to protect his door, he was in Sunspear, his home, and he was safe. Of course, that fell on deaf ears.
"Your grace, we are Kingsguards; our job to protect you never ends, whenever or not you're in Sunspear, Winterfell, or Kingslanding itself," Ser Gerold told him.
Jon eventually accepted but told them that only one of them needed to protect his door; Ser Gerold decided Ser Arthur would protect the door.
After they left, Jon had fallen on his bed feeling weightless, slowly closing his eyes to sleep; Rhaenix had been nearby, watching him, he had expected that the newborn dragon would be loud, but Rhaenix was as quiet as night.
Waking up the following morning, he felt a soft nudge on his shoulder, opening his eyes to be met with Rhaenix's purple eyes, her stomach making a sound, telling him that she was hungry.
"Good morning, Rhaenix," he said softly, petting her head; she purred, showing that she immensely enjoyed the attention. She left out a happy whistle before pointing at her stomach with her wing; he laughed in amusement before standing up.
Wearing his clothes, Jon wasted no time calling for a servant to bring him cooked meat, a knife, bread, salt, boiled eggs, pepper, and fresh lemons.
Jon was lying at the top of the bed, Rhaenix resting on his lap, his fingers caressing her scales, her skin rough in several places, but in some so smooth as if it was made of silk.
Jon wondered how he was going to reveal the truth to his sisters; he couldn't hide a dragon; right now, she could be raised inside his room, but the moment she grew up a bit, he knew she needed to be outside, and he wouldn't deprive her of her freedom.
Taking a deep breath, he heard footsteps getting closer to the door; he figured the servant was here to bring the food for him; waiting almost a minute, the door opened, revealing Ser Arthur walking inside holding a big plate full of food, the aroma was quite pleasant, and it made him hungry. It seemed the same was for Rhaenix, who left out a cry when she smelled the delicious food.
"Here, girl," Jon stopped her before she could forcefully grab the food from the plate; Ser Arthur chuckled before putting the plate over a table near the bed.
"Go ahead, girl," Jon said, gesturing for her to eat; she only decided to feast on the food, grabbing a small piece of steak and gulping it down in one go.
"Are you my servant now as well, Ser Arthur?" Jon japed, turning to the knight, who chuckled, amused by the situation.
"The servant wanted to bring in the food, but I told her that it was alright if I do it," Arthur explained; a sound made them both turn to see Rhaenix had dropped a goblet with water on the floor spilling all over the red carpet, swallowing another piece of meat, she seemed to be quite enjoying the food.
"Despite seeing it, I still can't believe it," Arthur commented; seeing what only yesterday was considered an extinct animal was a miracle, the many times Rhaegar had told him about his visions, his dreams for the future, saying he had dreamed of his son flying a red dragon, he had even told him that dragon would grow unlike any other dragon before her. She would grow faster and stronger and live longer than life itself.
At the time, Arthur had simply humored him; he didn't know anything about dragon dreams or dragons; while Rhaegar had studied every book or scroll that contained any kind of information about the dragons, Arthur never thought Rhaegar was mad, while his desire to have three children, and for them to be named after the Three Targaryens who conquered Westeros was a bit odd, he never gave him signs that he was talking nonsense like he was similar to his father Aerys Targaryen, and now seeing the Dragon in front of him.
Arthur wondered what his friend's reaction would be like; would he laugh, cry, feel pride, perhaps all three.
"Your grace, what-" he paused when the king raised his hand to demand silence.
"Don't call me that yet; I'm not a King yet, and I'm not announcing my claim yet until I have announced my claim to the rest of the Westeros; I'm simply Jon Sand," the king spoke firmly, his eyes showing that he didn't want to be questioned in this, Arthur agreed with him if it were his king's orders he would follow them.
"Very well, your- Jon," Arthur agreed, and now Rhaenix returned to her meal.
"Arthur, father, always said that you and he were very good friends before," he said, his eyes looking at the knight who shifted uncomfortably where he stood. "What happened?" He questioned, but he could tell Arthur wasn't keen on sharing it yet.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," He quickly added, but Arthur grabbed a chair. Releasing a breath, he looked at his king.
"When we were young, we were stupid and naive, me and Oberyn bonded over the desire of Swordfighting, exploring, and family, but I always wanted to pursue Honor and Duty, unlike Oberyn, who did things he liked despite the consequences, he was reckless, and he didn't care if what he did was wrong to other people," Arthur spoke, he knew what he was saying wasn't something his king would like. Still, Oberyn wasn't always the loving father he knew right now. Sometimes even Arthur was surprised at how much Oberyn had changed since the rebellion.
Arthur talked about how one time Oberyn had slept with the wife of a lord, and the next day, he killed the lord in a Swordfight using poison, despite being against the rules and wasn't really a fight to the death. Jon learned of a man who enjoyed breaking the rules and was sent away for his bad behavior. Arthur talked about how his reckless behavior had caused Arthur not to like spending time with him anymore, ultimately ending their friendship when Arthur told him he would be a Kingsguard.
"When The Tragedy happened to Princess Elia Martell and her children, only then Oberyn followed duty and family. I think he blamed himself, perhaps thinking his sister had paid for his bad deeds. I don't know, only your father could tell you the truth, but now, Oberyn is more like the man I always thought he should be," Arthur ended his story; his king looked unsure of what to make of his words, for a few minutes the only source of sound in the room was Rhaenix eating some steak.
"Ser Arthur, I appreciate your honest words whenever I want your advice in the future. I want you to be honest with me. Always," His king ordered; Arthur nodded in understanding.
One Month Later - Nymeria Sand
Nymeria was losing her mind; it had been a month since her sweet little brother had started acting differently; the way he walked, even just being in his presence, felt difficult; he carried an aura of strength and royalty around him, something that filled her heart with joy. She had nothing against it, but she wanted to know the reasons behind it.
Obara and Tyene seemed to have noticed as well, but she seemed more busy sucking Daemon's cock rather than talking about Jon; while she knew that her older sister loved their brother, sometimes she really annoyed everyone with her antics.
Jon had started showing even more potential in the training field; while he always did or as their father had once said that Jon had been born with a sword and a book on his hands, now, he was giving it all, showing it to everyone that he was indeed the son of Oberyn Martell, The Red Viper, the fastest warrior of Westeros.
"Again," Jon shouted across the yard; his hands had minor cuts but nothing that needed too much care.
He was facing one of the guards that usually guarded her brother; Nym remembered his name was Art, but the way he talked and took care of Jon and how he acted whenever her brother was hurt made her suspicious of him, whenever or not he simply cared for her brother didn't matter, as long as he didn't have any ill Will towards her little brother, everything would be alright.
"...Jon," Art spoke, concerned; her brother simply ignored his concern, grabbing the pommel of his sword, sweating more than she had ever seen. Soon the sound of steel hitting steel was heard; Nym held her breath, hoping he wouldn't break a bone; keeping his distance, Arthur moved to block him; the prince changed his trajectory at the last second, hoping to land a hit finally.
His sword hit him in the ribs; much to his delight, the swords they were using didn't have a blade.
"Good job, Jon, continue like this, and eventually, you might force me to get serious," the knight japed before grabbing her brother's sword and collecting every sword in the training yard.
Nym walked up to her brother, congratulating him that he could land the first hit on a fully grown knight.
"You did good, Jon," she said, kissing his cheek, making him blush in embarrassment before wiping his cheek with his sleeve. They continued walking and talking about mundane things; her brother asked what kind of sorcery Obara had used to make Deamon fall head over heels since he wasn't with Arianne this time.
"Perhaps, she's secretly a red priestess all along; wonder who she burned for the sacrifice," Nym suggested.
"Probably maester Caleotte, you know how much she enjoys his talk about how a proper lady should act," Jon japed, earning a burst of laughter from Nymeria.
"You're probably right. I haven't seen him around for a while," she added; soon, they reached a pool that was accessible only to the royal family, lemon trees surrounding him; it was one of the most beautiful places in Dorne.
She and Jon sat down, their feet touching the fresh water, feeling a chill on their spines; the cold water was an excellent way to relax; of course, Nym knew another way of relaxing, but neither Daemon nor Arianne was around.
The silence was quite comfortable to both of them; Nym found herself enjoying this; usually, she thought simply standing in one place would be boring; her brother started humming, a pleasant sound to her ears, soon singing a Dornish song, your voice is so beautiful, she thought to herself enjoying every moment, even the birds had stopped flying and were listening to his song. After minutes that she felt passed very fast, he stopped singing before turning his head to look at her.
"Nym, can I ask you something?" He questioned, his voice cracking, something she noticed right away.
"Anything," she said quickly, putting her arm across his shoulder and pulling him closer to her.
"Do you love me?"
Nym looked down at him, who was looking at his hands that were resting on his lap. Putting her hand gently on his chin, she made him look at her.
"Always, brother. Why are you asking?"
Nym closed her eyes; her brother mainly had dodged the question and hadn't given her a clear answer, the same day, she questioned her father if something was happening, but he dodged the question as well, irritating her; she hoped her father wasn't sending Jon somewhere if so, she would go as well.
Now she was making her way towards his chambers; she hadn't been there for some time. Arriving there, she quickly saw Ser Art standing right at the door; the sun had just started rising; it was quite baffling for her that he was already guarding the entrance.
"Lady Nym," he greeted her respectfully; she ignored him and simply tried to walk inside, only for him to grab her wrist.
"Jon said that he doesn't want any visit right now," he told her; she looked at him in the eyes, and she knew she couldn't defeat him; he was way faster than her.
"Tell him that his sister wants to talk with him," she said, barely keeping her voice low, not wanting to resort to violence almost immediately.
The knight let go of her wrist before knocking on the door twice. "Jon, Lady Nymeria is here; she wants to talk with you," he said; the silence was the answer.
Nym grew confused when a strange screech sound was heard. "Jon," she called, concerned that something had happened.
"Nym, come inside," she heard her brother say; she released a sigh of relief, and the knight stepped back, allowing her to walk inside.
Walking inside, she was met with the smell of smoke and roasted meat, briefly making her wonder if Jon had tried to cook meat. Her eyes found her brother, who was wearing a thin yellow shirt, and pants decorated with dark lines around the waist and collar.
"Jon, are you alright, I hea-," Nym's words died in her throat when behind her little brother walked out a strange red lizard, a massive one; she wasn't Sarella, but even she knew this wasn't just any lizard, this was a dragon. A Dragon..., she swallowed, her body stiffened, her hand instinctively going to a secret dagger in her clothes, his teeth sharp like Valyrian Steel.
If she had paid more attention to her surroundings, she would have noticed that the knight at the door was inside, watching her warily.
"... Jon, what is going on?" She questioned her mind in turmoil, a thousand questions popping in her mind one after the other. How does my brother have a dragon? I thought they were extinct. Was his mother someone with Valyrian blood, how did he find her, and why she hadn't known it sooner?
"Nym, please sit here. I will explain everything," Jon said calmly, pointing at a couch near the bed; she obeyed without question but noticed how the dragon was eyeing her; the dragon didn't trust her. The dragon looked as large as a fully grown dog, much smaller than she had thought a dragon should be.
Sitting down, her brother filled a cup of water for her and himself; usually, she preferred Dornish wine, but perhaps alcohol on her blood was the last thing she needed right now.
"Explain,"
Jon took a deep breath before telling her everything, from beginning to end, who his parents were, how Oberyn had decided to raise him as his own son, and how Rhaegar Targaryen had married his true mother, Lyanna Stark, making her his second wife.
After the explanation ended, Nym fell in absolute silence, her mind going back to all the little hints that her brother was more than just Oberyn's son, the guards watching him, his dreams of the day their aunt and her children were butchered.
Her mind almost caught fire; now she understood why Jon had asked her if she loved him. He had been afraid that she wouldn't... foolish little brother.
Before Jon could react, Nym threw her hands at him, hugging him close; Jon was surprised; from all the reactions, this wasn't one he had expected; he expected shouting, calling him names, simply leaving and not talking to him, or perhaps act as if she didn't know him anymore.
"Nym?!"
"Foolish little brother, did you really think I wouldn't love you because of who your parents were," She whispered softly in his ears, the dragon no longer looking at her with wary.
Nym kissed his cheeks before looking straight at his purple eyes. "You're my little brother; your blood doesn't change anything. Remember that our bond is not simply because of blood but because I love you. We Are Family," she said with as much love as she could muster before hugging him again.
Jon closed his eyes, enjoying the hug, a heavy weight lifted from his shoulders; at that moment, he was happy, pleased. Rhaenix left out a happy whistle, releasing hot steam from her mouth.
We are family, brother. I will protect you; together, we will get what was stolen from us. With Fire And Blood.
Robert Baratheon
The weather had been calm outside the Gates of the Moon, and the sky clear save for a bank of fog that ringed the top of the Eyrie like a crown, but it had changed for the worse somewhere between Snow and Sky, the wind coming on suddenly, in fierce and shrieking gusts. More than once, Ned had closed his eyes and clung to his mule, afraid he would be blown off the narrow path. He was inside the mountain now, climbing a set of steep stairs that seemed to be cut right into the rock, but he could still hear the wind howling at the mouth of the tunnel, could still see it churning up dirt and leaves when he dared to look down. Ned was used to the cold because it was always cold in the North, but everything here felt damp and sharp in a way he'd never known at Winterfell, and the last handful of stairs left him tired and dizzy and strangely breathless.
"The air is thinner up here," his escort said brightly. He wore a leather jerkin and a cloak embroidered with the moon and falcon of House Arryn; Ned couldn't remember his name. "In a turn or two, you'll hardly notice it at all. Spend half a year up here, and the next time you're on the ground, you'll swear you're breathing mud."
Ned frowned and took a deep, careful breath that burned the back of his throat. He didn't want to stay here half a year. He wasn't sure he wanted to stay here at all. He'd always thought he would foster somewhere in the North, just like Brandon.
"Lord Arryn would've been here to greet you, but he was called away the night before last," the man said, leading Ned across a wide entrance hall, then down a winding corridor lined with iron torches. The walls were white marble veined with blue, and the floors were polished blue tiles that clicked under Ned's boots. "Some trouble between two of his lords. He said I should introduce you to his other ward, Robert Baratheon. It's just about time for his lessons, so he's probably hiding from Maester Coleman in the godswood."
It wasn't a proper godswood, not like the ones kept at Winterfell and Last Hearth and Karhold. It was more of a courtyard, formed by the walls of the Eyrie's seven towers, and it was planted like a garden, the grass and flowers dotted with statues of white stone. The largest was of a weeping woman, and a boy Ned's age stood beside her, wearing a black and gold doublet and holding a broken practice sword like a spear. He had a square jaw and inky-black hair, and he studied Ned with wide, blue eyes.
"Robert, this is Eddard Stark. He's come to foster here, just like you."
They stared at each other as the man left, then Robert said, "Eddard Stark."
"Ned," Ned said quietly. The wind was easier in the godswood, but the air felt misty and damp. He thought he could hear water running. "Everyone calls me Ned."
"From the North, are you? They say Northerners sleep on blocks of ice and eat bowls of snow for breakfast."
"We eat porridge for breakfast." House Baratheon was in the Stormlands, but Ned couldn't think of a good jape about people in the Stormlands. Winterfell rarely concerned itself with anything below the Neck, except to say that southron courts were full of sunshine and singers and nonsense. "Porridge and bacon."
"Have you been to the Wall?"
"No," Ned admitted, his voice slightly sour. His father had last visited Castle Black three years ago, and he'd not thought Ned old enough to make the trip. "My father has seen it. And my older brother."
"What about snarks? Or grumpkins?"
"No. I don't think those are real, anyway."
Robert jabbed the broken sword into the dirt and gave Ned a narrow look. "What about Others?"
"My father says they died thousands of years ago, but Old Nan says there might still be some, out beyond the Wall."
"Nurses," Robert said, snorting. "Mine told me there are mermaids in Shipbreaker Bay." He crouched down beside the weeping woman and started digging underneath her with the splintered end of the sword. "I think she just wanted me to eat my greens. She said they only show themselves to boys who clean their plates."
Ned smiled at that. "It's wildlings, in the North." Old Nan was full of stories meant to make children behave, but only Benjen and Lyanna still believed her, and Benjen less than half the time. "They come for little boys who won't clean their plates and little girls who won't go to bed." He took a step closer to Robert, watching as he cleared more dirt away from the statue. "What are you doing?"
"I'm looking for treasure."
"Treasure?"
"Treasure. The Griffin King married the daughter of a pirate, so he must've had treasure," Robert explained. He rubbed his face, leaving a streak of dirt along his cheek. "I bet he had gold and silver and jewels, and I bet he hid them somewhere before Artys Arryn flew up here to kill him."
Ned frowned. "How did he fly?"
"My father said he rode on the back of a giant falcon. My nurse said he sewed falcon wings to his boots." Robert shrugged as if it didn't matter either way. "Did you want to help me?"
Ned hesitated; he was wearing his best doublet, grey velvet with white stitching at the collar and cuffs. He started to say no, but Robert caught his sleeve with a dirty hand and tugged him closer. With his other hand, he pulled a rusty garden trowel from a clump of flowers and pointed to the other side of the statue. The trowel was missing half its blade.
"You can start over there."
When Maester Coleman finally found them, they were both dirt and weeds to the elbows, laughing and sweating in the bright Vale sunlight.
Robert suddenly opened his eyes; looking around, he was violently reminded that he was dreaming. No, No, he thought, closing his eyes with force, to the point that it hurt, hoping that he would return back to those days, to the days when he wasn't stuck in a loveless marriage, and his best friend wasn't on the other side of the kingdom.
Ned, Lyanna, if only you two had been here, he thought, his head falling on the pillow; it didn't feel soft, it felt like a rock, and his bed felt as cold as the Wall. Robert closed his eyes again, dreaming of a life with Ned as his hand of the king and Lyanna as his wife, full of strong black-haired children that he would have loved.
The following chapter takes place seven years after this chapter.
Note: In the books, Jon Arryn dies when Jon is 14 years old, and in the show, when he's 16 years old. While this story follows the books, I will follow the show on this part since many things will happen after the time skip, and those two years are needed.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein