Chương 8: Chapter 8: of Wolves and Dragons

Maester Aemon sat in his study waiting for the arrival of Rhaegar's only remaining son. He had wanted to speak to the child years ago. Instead he had been restricted to corresponding with Aegon in lengthy letters that took moons to reach the Prince since all correspondence between the two of them had to be carried by Benjen Stark or another messenger sent directly from the Prince's entourage. There was no other way he was allowed to reach out to the boy. Well the Starks had kept him safe for almost twelve years now. So, at least they were doing something right.

At first this delay hadn't bothered the Maester too much. But ever since a heavily disguised Ser Arthur Dayne had shown up at the Wall a few years ago carrying the three dragons eggs Lord Reed had instructed him to find, Maester Aemon had been urging the Starks to bring the Targaryen to him. The Maester was scared he would die of old age before he could convey the closely kept secrets of House Targaryen to the rightful heir to the throne. If there was any justice in this cruel world, one of the eggs might respond to the true King's touch, if they were lucky perhaps two, or all three? He was tired of speculating.

He had been introduced to the Prince yesterday evening and had immediately felt a kinship with the child. He had reminded himself to call him by his alias and not show the boy any more attention than a formal greeting. But finally the wait was over. His grand-grand-nephew would be here anytime now. Maester Aemon was ready. He had been prepared for this visit for a very long time already. He had checked once more this morning that all the books he had brought with him when he had arrived at the Wall all those years ago were within reach. He had also verified he still knew all the secret places where the Targaryen artifacts were hidden in his room so he could ask his nephew to take them out if the conversation went as well as he had envisioned a thousand times by now.

And here it was, the eagerly awaited knock on the door! He heard the young boy enter together with the already familiar steps of Benjen Stark. Maester Aemon and Benjen Stark had indulged in several lengthy conversations over the years. They featured the topic of the well being and education of Rhaegar's son first and foremost, but also the situation at the Wall and the Wildling threat were topics they talked about at length. Benjen Stark had often been his scribe when he dictated letters to his young nephew.

Maester Aemon would allow Stark to keep them company for a short while. Enough to give the Prince the opportunity to grow comfortable with his old uncle and then he would demand a private audience with his kin. Some things were for Targaryen eyes and ears only, no matter how much gratitude he owed the Starks for keeping this young man safe at the risk of their own lives.

"Come here my Prince", he encouraged the boy. "Let me feel the contours of your face. My old eyes have not seen any light in a very long time. I would like to get to know the son of my grandnephew. And these are my only means to imagine what you look like." He lifted his two hands up a bit.

"I am very honoured to finally make your acquaintance in person, Maester Aemon and would like to take this opportunity to thank you once more for all the kind advise you have given me in the past", the boy replied politely. Maester Aemon felt the boy gently take one of his hands and bring it to his face.

"I'm am kneeling in front of you now. I am taller than this Maester." Aemon heard the smile in Aegon's voice.

"When in private, I give you leave to call me Uncle." He hadn't expected he would warm up to the boy this quickly. "Great-great-Uncle is such a mouthful. You can reserve the title Maester Aemon for when we are in company." His hand felt the smile grow larger on his nephews face.

"I thank you, Uncle", the boy immediately complied.

The Maester moved his hand from Aegon's face to his shoulder.

"Greetings to you as well Stark." Aemon looked in the direction where he had heard the man take a seat. I trust the journey here was uneventful?"

"We got here safe and in good time." Stark replied. "I have to convey to you the regards of my elder brother Eddard Stark and I would like to entreat you to keep in mind that Aegon has only known of his kinship with you for two sennights now. He prefers to be addressed as Jon."

"I really don't mind making an exception for the Maester", the boy immediately countered. Outside these chambers I am Jon, but in here we are two Targaryens who share blood."

Aemon felt his old eyes grow moist. He still had his hands on Jon's shoulder and patted it mildly, conveying his appreciation of that thoughtful comment. "Take a seat nephew. Pull that chair up if you will and sit close to me."

He turned his head in the direction of Stark again. "Would you mind allowing us some time to talk in private? I will call for you once we're done for today and will send the boy back with you. I promise I won't let him leave this room unescorted."

"It is all right,Uncle Benjen." The boy replied, softly confirming to Aemon that Stark had been hesitating.

He heard Stark mumble something to the boy and leave the room.

The boy now addressed him. "You will have to be patient with me, Uncle. I am still coming to terms with all I have been told. I think I have accepted who my family is. I am not sure how I feel about all the political repercussions though. All I keep hearing is that I must claim the throne. That it is my birthright but also my duty." He paused. Aemon could almost hear him thinking.

"I don't mind you speaking your mind, Aegon. Tell me what's bothering you and I will see what I can do to help." He hoped he had struck the right tone. He wanted the boy to open up to him.

"Well, I can't help to think that if anyone can understand my lack of initial enthusiasm, it would be you, Uncle. You could have ruled Westeros. I hope you don't mind such a blunt statement so soon after meeting me." The boy seemed to have found his resolve.

"Any ruler with a lick of sense would be hesitant," his uncle reassured. "The ones who want the throne just for the sake of power and acclaim are not suited for such a responsibility. I have already learned a lot, from these first few moments, my young charge. I had already gathered from our correspondence that you are intelligent, so you will have no problem to understand that my circumstances at the time I made this very important decision were completely different from the ones you face now. I already was a part of the Night's Watch before my older brother died and I still had a worthy living successor. My choice did not leave the realm in chaos, at least not for the erstwhile foreseeable future."

He paused and took his nephew's hand to soften the words he knew would be hard to hear for the boy. "I am sorry to say this but you are the best hope for Westeros as far as I can tell. Your claim is superior to Viserys' and the reports from Essos mention the mental health of the Prince is deteriorating notwithstanding the care he is being given. I am sorry to tell you but it will be very likely that one of the next reports from Essos will convey news of his death. The Prince is very ill."

He could hear the boy exhale loudly and guessed he was trying to come to terms with this. He waited a bit, listening closely to Jon's breathing and continued when he sensed the boy was calmer.

"I just wanted to say that as long as I live I will be here to advise and help you. You will not have to do all of it alone, Aegon. Besides, there are upsides to being a Targaryen. Wait until you know all the closely kept secrets of our house. One of them is a beautiful gift for you."

He could hear the boy shift in his chair. He was probably sitting up. He had been able to catch the boys interest.

"The head of House Targaryen is entitled to wield a Valyrian sword. Nothing else would be good enough don't you think?" He teased the boy.

"A Valyrian sword? Are you speaking true, Uncle? I have only heard of Dark Sister and Blackfyre? Aren't they both lost?" Aemon could hear the excitement building in his nephew's voice.

Go to the right side of the fire hearth, and search the floor for a tile that is a shade lighter than the others. You can also recognise it because of its chipped corner."

He could hear the boy leave his chair even before he had finished speaking.

"Now lift it and you should see a package wrapped in cloth in the space below it. You may take it out and unwrap it."

"It's rather heavy, Uncle."

"Just lift one corner and slide it to the right. Once it starts moving, the difficult part is over." He heard Jon successfully move the stone.

"I see two packages, Uncle. I suppose I should take out the tall slim one?"

Aemon nodded and an exclamation could be heard almost immediately.

"If my history lessons were accurate this is Blackfyre, I recognise the big red ruby on the hilt. It also seems more robust than how I had pictured Dark Sister", he heard the Prince say.

"It is Blackfyre", he confirmed. "It was recovered and brought to me years ago. I had a premonition the right owner would come and claim it eventually. It is yours Aegon. I hear your training is going well and you will be a worthy owner. Best put it back for now. You can take it with you when you leave us in two sennights. But keep it covered. It would betray your origins in one instant, never mind your dark curls. I have heard Ser Arthur tell me there is much of Rhaegar in you."

"Should I forget, remind me to tell you later about a folk tale regarding the Long Night and a Song of Ice and Fire before you leave. It was something your father loved to talk about. I can give you a book to read about that as well." Aemon rubbed his chin. "I'm sorry my young charge, I am getting off topic."

"Don't worry, Uncle", Jon assured him, "I would like to read that book and I will make sure to remind you. Please ask me anything you want."

"I want to hear you tell me some more about your life so far. Your letters over the years have only heightened my curiosity. Fill me in and leave nothing out. Would you be willing to start by explaining the bond you have with your dog, Max? That part of your heritage is new to the Targaryens."

A significant while later Jon summoned a steward to fetch his Uncle Benjen. I seemed he had worn Uncle Aemon out. The old man was softly snoring in his chair. Jon still had many questions left. He would make sure they had plenty of opportunities to talk some more the coming days.

***

Several days later, somewhere on the road between castle Black and Eastwatch.

'Fire and blood, Fire and blood', the mantra repeated over and over in Jon's head. They had started the journey towards Eastwatch where Davos Seaworth's ship would be waiting for them. His mind was still reeling with everything his great-great-Uncle Aemon had told Jon. He couldn't wait to return to the Driftmark. There were three dragons eggs safely wrapped and tucked in an additional saddle bag he would not leave out of his sight. He would sleep with the bag under his bedfurs. They were too precious.

Jon had never felt such protectiveness before. The moment he had spotted the green egg, a feeling of belonging had come over him. When he had touched the egg it had felt warm under his touch and he could have sworn he had felt the egg reaching out to his mind. Maester Aemon had been elated when Jon had described what he experienced. He had urged Jon to try touching the other eggs as well. The beautiful white egg with silver sparkles was also warm to the touch and Jon felt a kinship with it, although nothing compared to the overwhelming feeling the green egg had provoked in him. The black egg however left him indifferent. It could as well have been just a shiny black stone.

His Uncle Aemon had reassured him that he had already exceeded his expectations. His father, Rhaegar had desperately tried to connect with the eggs and failed. Jon stood a good chance to hatch two living dragons in the near future. The black egg was perhaps destined for Daenerys or for one of his future children. At least that was what Maester Aemon had implied.

Of course Jon would start the hatching process that his uncle had described in great detail only when he was safely installed on the island once more. They would return to the Driftmark. If he was successful Jon and his guards would spend a lot of time on the most eastern point of the island. Nobody lived there at the moment since there was not much besides rocks and harsh winds. But Jon had once ventured there and played in caves that were big enough to provide shelter for growing dragons. His guards could easily travel between the small settlement and the caves. If they travelled on horseback they could make the journey back to the settlement in no time. Even on foot it would take no more than half a day.

It would be the ideal place to raise them and teach them to fly without attracting attention. Jon would make sure that all possible precautions were being taken to keep the existence of the eventual dragons a secret as long as possible. If he already felt this protective towards the eggs. The Gods knew what he would be willing to do to protect tiny vulnerable dragons. He suspected he would not hesitate to use lethal force against anyone who dared to threaten them.

Jon remembered with unease Uncle Aemon's advise regarding the Targaryen bloodline.

He had seen the man hesitate before he advised him.

"Aegon, you should realise Targaryen blood is important to control dragons. If you are successful in hatching one or more dragons, you should consider marrying your aunt, Daenerys."

Jon had started to protest but his great-great-uncle had put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Dragons live for several hundreds of years and an uncontrolled dragon could bring doom to the realm. If your children's blood is too weak, they will not be able to control them. You would have to kill your dragons before you die."

"My blood is only half Targaryen", Jon had protested.

"You are lucky Aegon. Apparently the Stark blood contains magic as well and it appears it doesn't lessen your Targaryen abilities. Against all odds, it seems to have enhanced them. But to further dilute your blood would not be advisable with dragons back into the world."

"But she's my aunt! I can not marry an aunt." Jon really didn't want to discuss this now.

Jon had been blindsided by his uncle's demand. He was still coming to terms with the idea of possibly being responsible for owning, let alone controlling a dragon, and now this?

"Technically she is your aunt. But she is also just a girl of an age similar to yours. She is a virtual stranger to you. You have not grown up together. Targaryens have done stranger things."

His Targaryen uncle seemed determined to convince his nephew.

"There are still a lot of ifs in your reasoning, Uncle. I will take it one step at a time. Let me first get these eggs safely to the Driftmark and see what happens then. Even if they hatch, it is not a given the baby dragons will live to reach adulthood. By the time they do, I will be older and more capable of making decisions about marriage."

His uncle had stayed silent for a while but finally had warned him that while it was wise to take it slowly for now, one should always plan his next steps.

Jon tried to focus on the road ahead. Sandor Clegane was riding beside him. Luckily, the knight was not a talkative guy and left Jon to his own thoughts most of the time.

"Glad to be leaving the Wall and the cold behind soon?" Jon didn't want to ignore the man the entire journey. Besides he always liked his unique way of describing things. Clegane didn't disappoint.

"Never knew it could get so fucking cold. A guy has to keep moving the entire time not to freeze his balls off. Certainly when there are no fucking opportunities to f ... " He remembered just in time he was speaking to a twelve year old.

He tried again. "Never mind, I'm no whiner anyway. I hate fire, but now I'm almost grateful the barbaric thing exists."

Jon smiled. He felt lighter already. They were nearing some woods. Going around would take them much longer as going through. He looked at Uncle Benjen for guidance.

His uncle didn't disappoint. "There is a small path we can follow a bit further to the right. I'll lead the way."

Some time later, something itched in the back of Jon's mind. He shook his head but the strange feeling only got stronger.

***

Ser Oswell startled when Jon, who had been keeping in formation the entire time, suddenly led his horse to the right and without any warning left the road and headed deeper into the woods. A short panicked look at Ser Gerold and the two knights immediately went after their charge. They weren't familiar with these woods and Benjen Stark had repeatedly warned everyone to stay alert for possible wild animals or roaming Wildings.

Swords drawn the two knights reached the clearing in the woods where the boy's horse stood without its rider. They scanned the area and saw their Prince on his knees next to a dead wolf, if it even was a wolf? If it was, it certainly was the largest one they had ever seen.

Benjen Stark appeared next to them. "It is a direwolf, the sigil of House Stark", he told them quietly. "I didn't know some had ventured south of the Wall. I have only caught glimpses of them beyond the Wall when I accompanied the rangers of the Night's Watch on a scouting mission. They are scared as hell of them".

The three of them watched entranced as Jon took out five little whelps who were still trying to get milk from their dead mother.

"Jon," Benjen Stark whispered though a warning could still be heard in his voice. "It is possible that the father is not far out. Leave them be and let's get back to the road. We must get out of these woods before dark."

Jon however didn't get up. The small animals clearly welcomed the attention Jon bestowed on them.

"We will take them with us," he declared. "There are five of them. You have two nieces and two nephews and Lady Catelyn is about to give birth to a fifth. They belong to House Stark. It will be my gift to them."

"Jon," his uncle intervened, "we are not on our way to Winterfell. You realise they are direwolves? Direwolves are wild animals."

"They are the sigil of your house. Lord Reed gave me a vague premonition before we parted and I cannot help but feel this is what was always meant to happen. If they are raised from mere whelps alongside the Stark children, they will be tame enough. When we reach Eastwatch we will send them to Winterfell with the next trading convoy. When we board the ship, I would ask that you Uncle, take them to my cousins in Winterfell yourself." Jon's voice trailed off.

He touched his head then looked over to the far side of the clearing. He gently put the whelps down beside his uncle and went over to investigate the far corner of the clearing where he had seen something white flash beneath the leaves. He signalled the two knights to keep their distance and carefully crept closer to that spot so he would not scare anything away.

He knelt once more and gently removed a little white creature with red eyes from under the bushes. It was an albino direwolf whelp, clearly the runt of the litter. This little one was for him, Jon was sure. His mind gently nudged the little wolf's mind and it responded by licking Jon's face enthusiastically.

Jon straightened and turned back around. "Please Uncle, let's pick them up and put them in a box on the wagon. I will personally care for them until we reach Eastwatch.

Not deterred by his uncle's disapproving scowl he urged, "Didn't the Starks of old have direwolves riding beside them into battle?"

Benjen sighed and relented. "We'll try to take them with us. But at the first sight of their father, we will release them. You wouldn't want to be attacked by an angry full grown direwolf."

It was an uneasy procession that walked back to the road. The knights kept a worried eye on the small animals carried by Jon and Benjen Stark.

"I'll take care of this one." Jon stated resolutely tucking the white wolf under his coat instead of putting in the wooden box. He would not be parted from this little white creature. This one was coming with him to the Driftmark.

Jon felt a small victory when everyone complied be it reluctantly. 'There were advantages to being the 'rightful heir' to the Iron Throne. He could perhaps take somewhat advantage of this once in a while?'

He didn't have to check. His mind felt the little wolf had gone to sleep safely tucked in against Jon's chest. Jon had yet to hear a sound coming from the small animal. 'Ghost', he thought, 'his name shall be Ghost and Jon felt his mind relax as well. For the first time in sennights all was right in his world.

***

Jon stood at the railing of the ship watching the Wall disappear. It stayed an impressive sight.

He turned and went to the bridge where Davos seemed to be watching the same thing.

Jon waited patiently for the man to finish contemplating the disappearing structure and turn his attention to him.

"I have long been wanting to tell you something, Davos. Could we perhaps retreat to your cabin or do you know of a better place for a private conversation?"

Davos had expected to hear about Jon's lineage. However he had been blown away by the talk of dragon eggs and the possibility of living dragons. He had refused Jon's option of bowing out once things got too dangerous and had solemnly pledged his loyalty and support to whatever Jon would decide next.

The conversation with Sandor Clegane had gone a bit differently. Jon had reluctantly agreed to let Ser Gerold stand witness to it, bearing in mind his promise to Uncle Ned.

However he had ordered the knight to be as inconspicuous as possible. Jon had emphasised he should turn a deaf ear to any insults or curse words Clegane would possibly utter and not take them as personal insults to their Prince. The only valid reason to interfere would be if Clegane threatened to bodily harm him which Jon believed to be highly unlikely. Ser Gerold had stayed by the door not moving a muscle, but his hand was closed to his sword.

Sandor Clegane had listened to Jon without interrupting him. When he was sure Jon had nothing more to add he had thrown some questions at Jon.

"Does that mean I get a raise?" Was his first reaction.

Jon had been taken aback but had tried to keep his tone light.

"Do you want to get one? I don't even know what you are paid now any way." He waited nervously for the next salvo from Clegane.

"I'm not gonna kiss your boots or lick your arse, yer Grace. I'm not going to have to call you your Grace now am I?" He grumbled.

"Just stick with Jon for now." Jon still watched him warily.

"As long as you do not turn into one of those stuck up, no good for nothing nobles who don't look you in the face when they order you to kill some poor woman or child." He uttered. "Damn, I really liked you kid!"

"I'm still me. I'm still a kid. You have my permission to tell me when I'm acting 'stuck up'." Jon started to relax a bit. He estimated Clegane's initial reactions were promising.

"You bet ye, I will!" was the assertive response.

But then Clegane suddenly seemed to shrink. Jon noticed his eyes looking agitated at him.

"I refused Lord Lannister's offer because I wasn't going to die for some fucking throne. He looked Jon straight in the eye and asked, "Am I going to die fighting for some fucking throne?"

"You might, if you decide to stick with me." Jon replied honestly.

"I don't know yet how dangerous it will get if we decide to go through with it. I would try to use a diplomatic approach, perhaps bluff a bit, but I can not promise you it will not come to fighting."

It was time for the big gamble.

"I will release you from your service if you give me your word of honour that you will keep my secret. I must be honest though, I would prefer it if you chose to stick with me. You've proven to be a loyal guard and a good friend so far."

Jon hesitated but decided to be blunt, "I would rely on you to cut through all the bullshit and tell me to my face what is going on, or what I could be doing wrong."

Jon thought this could still go either way. He waited with bated breath to see how the man would react.

However Clegane didn't take long to make up his mind. He drew his sword and went to his knees. From the corner of his eye Jon saw Ser Gerold's hand tighten around his sword's pommel. He warned him to stand down with a stern look.

After the usual protocol had been dispensed with and Clegane had risen back to his feet, Jon added, "I can ask Ser Gerold to knight you, if you want. I will officially name you a member of my Kingsguard if you consent."

I ain't no fucking knight, boy. And you're no King yet. Think I will not protect you without some fancy title?"

Jon hadn't expected anything different.

"No, I trust you with my life, Clegane. Already have, and will continue to do so. I thank you for your loyalty."

Jon saw Ser Gerold relax. 'It had gone rather well, hadn't it?'

***

Sennights later somewhere in the Driftmark.

'Fire and blood, it seemed so simple. Of course the blood should belong to the person that bonded with the egg so that meant it was only simple for the Targaryen destined to hatch it. It had taken Jon no more than a sennight to see a tiny green dragon crawl from the cracked egg shell.

Not sure the procedure would work he had minimised the risk and exposed only one egg to the fire that he had burning inside the cave at all times His two loyal knights took up guard duty and kept the fire going while Jon slept. They knew nothing of the small blood ritual however. Jon always performed it when the knights were outside guarding the entrance. They had no problem leaving Jon alone when he requested solitude for small periods of time. Their King was safe in there since there was only one entrance to the cave.

Uncle Aemon had been adamant. Only Targaryens who showed the potential for bonding with a dragon should be initiated into the process of this hatching ritual. It was dangerous to spread the knowledge amongst those who were 'unworthy' as his great-great-uncle called it.

Summerhall had burned down because an 'unworthy' Targaryen had tried to hatch the eggs without having a bond with them. Uncle Aemon had told him the tale. Frustrated, by their failure they had stoked the fires higher and when that hadn't worked they had tried every accelerant the Maesters could come up with. The result had been the total destruction of Summerhall and the death of King Aegon V and his eldest son Duncan Targaryen.

Jon shook his head. 'Fire and Blood', it really had been simple. He took the shiny silver-white egg carefully out of the fire and reopened the cut he had made the first time he performed the ritual. Just a few drops each day, his great-great-uncle had instructed him. Jon followed these instructions to the letter. The small baby dragon watched the proceedings with keen eyes. It seemed the tiny green creature understood the importance of what his human was doing. Jon stroked its wings softly then put the egg back into the fire, careful not to burn himself.

He had noticed he was not as sensitive to fire as everyone else, but he could still get burned. If that happened however, he healed faster than the average burn victim. His Targaryen uncle had told him that Targaryens often had this ability to resist fire easier than non-Targaryens. He had told stories of his forefathers in Old Valeria who were rumoured to be totally fire resistant. He admitted that he didn't know whether the stories were true or if it had been just exaggerated tales of the ability Jon displayed. Anyway it was a useful quality for a dragonrider.

Aemon also believed that the fire of the dragon, or dragons he bonded with should not be able to hurt him, if the old books on dragonlore were to be believed. Jon had been gifted one of these books and guarded it with his life. The book was mostly in High Valyrian and Maester Aemon had had to teach him how to decipher the most sensitive parts that were gibberish if you didn't know the correct way to read them. It was a variant of the code he would use for his correspondence with his kin in Essos. Jon had already started his first letter and Uncle Benjen had promised to provide him with a discreet messenger who would carry his letter to his aunt and uncle in person.

He had agreed to take precautions but would not be prevented from trying to establish contact between them. If they believed him to be who he was, he would stay in contact and double his efforts to create a safe place for them in Westeros so they could come home. He had his eye on Dragonstone. It would probably be some years before that could be arranged, but he would make it happen.

Jon's musings were interrupted when a small ball of white fur leapt into his arms and startled the little green dragon. "Hello there Ghost." The little direwolf blinked his puppy eyes at him.

"Be kind to this little dragon. He is part of our pack", he gently told Ghost.

"We need a name for him though." He looked at the little dragon, trying to enter his mind.

'Rhaegal', the name echoed in both their minds. "Rhaegal", he tried out loud. The dragon nestled himself against Jon's chest only inches away from where Ghost was situated. The puppy looked at the tiny dragon and whined quietly. The matter was settled. Rhaegar and Ghost carefully looked each other over before falling asleep.

Jon returned his attention to the egg that was lying in the middle of the fire that warmed the cave.

'It won't be long now and I will be responsible for three children', he thought and somehow it felt the right term when he thought of the little wolf and dragon. They were family, he would be their parent.

Interlude 7: The value of an oath

Ser Barristan had been sitting in this little tavern for over most of the afternoon now. Normally he never ventured so far from the Keep. However he had to admit, the small establishment was nicer than he would have guessed from the outside. It was clean, not too crowded and the food had been tasty. The ale, well he would enjoy it more if he wouldn't be so nervous.

The cryptic messages had started to arrive a moon ago, brief messages questioning his loyalty, his honour. As if his life wasn't taxing enough, standing behind a door hearing a drunken King enjoying himself with Gods know how many whores at the same time. Barristan also had to stand beside him straight faced, seeing him neglect his duties, being rude and even dishonourable at times. He preferred guarding the royal children, although lately the crown prince had become a pain in the ass. Luckily Myrcella and Tommen were still agreeable children. And to think he had come so close to becoming Kingsguard to a noble King. How things could have been different if his friend Prince Rhaegar had succeeded in deposing his mad father.

Barristan sipped from the tepid ale. He hoped that he could put an end to this nonsense today. He hadn't hesitated when the last message stated a meeting time and a place. Not even when he was ordered to come alone. He had been offended when he had read the last line were it stated no harm would come to him, that at least the messenger's honour could be trusted. Well if he got killed today, so be it. He didn't really care any longer.

He scanned the room once more. Had that far corner been occupied before? He squinted. It seemed an old man was sitting there now. 'A farmer?' He looked again. Now the man noticed him as well and nodded a greeting. Ser Barristan didn't move. 'Was that man someone who recognised a famous knight and greeted 'Barristan the Bold', or was he the elusive messenger?'

'Well, I've been here long enough. See how he reacts when I pretend to leave.' Barristan slowly stood, left some coins on the table and headed for the door, all the while watching the man from the corner of his eye.

The man called his bluff and removed the hood that had obscured his face before.

Ser Barristan faltered.

He tried to hide his disbelief and changed direction. Without invitation he sat down on the opposite side of the table and faced his erstwhile Lord Commander.

Ser Gerold settled the hood back over his head obscuring his face once more. "No names", he whispered. "I have a room upstairs and will retire now. If you like to hear what I have been up to all these years, you do as I say. Leave and try to reach the back entrance of this establishment without being seen. I will await you in the corridor and we can talk in private in my room."

Barristan nodded and left without a word. 'Twelve fucking years, they had let him grieve for twelve fucking years!'

***

"You claim that there is a son of Rhaegar still living? You claim you are Kingsguard to the one True King and I to a usurper? You come here after twelve fucking years and you tell me a fairy tale?" Barristan whispered furiously. His eyes stared full with disbelief at Ser Gerold Hightower, former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard or perhaps not 'former'.

"Lower your voice! Your whisper is almost louder than your speaking voice. And do not use names.'

Ser Barristan felt chastised. It was almost like the good old days when he was still under Ser Gerold's command getting scolded for daydreaming during a briefing.

"If you know a safer place to meet, let's hear it. Otherwise keep quiet and use code names."

Barristan nodded. Ser Gerold could be as abrupt as he wanted. Barristan still wanted to hear what he had to say. He decided to wait him out. Ser Gerold hadn't answered his earlier questions yet.

Ser Gerold relented. "I won't tell you anything substantial about the Prince. Just know he is the trueborn son of our Prince, a Targaryen and will be the best ruler Westeros has ever seen. What I want to know is where your loyalties lie?"

Barristan shifted in his chair and looked uneasy. "I'm bound by my vow to the stag. This is a wretched situation. You know I would give my life for that family you protect. But how can I do it without dishonouring myself?" Barristan was proud he had avoided speaking names.

Ser Gerold snapped back but kept his voice quiet, "I do not consider myself dishonoured. We did what we had to do to keep our King safe."

"You have not dishonoured yourself since you did not swear to the stag." Barristan damned his hastily taken vow for the millionth time.

"Did you call him by his name or did you swear to the rightful King when you pledged yourself?" Ser Gerold retorted.

"Word games, everyone knows what was implied." Barristan felt weary now.

Ser Gerold mulled it over. "If you really want to serve my family again, you could go to the stag and tell him you are an old and tired man who wishes to live out his old days peacefully somewhere else, technically not a lie old friend." He offered.

"And then you disappear."

Barristan frowned and stayed silent.

"But before we take such drastic steps, do you think the Spider could be trusted to spy for us? If not, you would be more useful here in Kingslanding serving my family here as an informant." Barristan saw Ser Gerold eyes studying him, a hopeful look in them.

Barristan sighed. "I think there is a chance, but with Varys you never know for sure.

I could set up a meeting? We've had some conversations and I know he is sympathetic to my plight. He doesn't like how the Kingdoms are ruled. If he was presented with a good alternative … " Barristan stopped, unsure. He looked at Ser Gerold.

"But why would you want to take such a risk? I am glad you talked to me, although your twelve years late for the Gods' sake. I know and I hope you know that I can be trusted, but Varys? It is a risk."

"What if I told you that it wasn't?" was the enigmatic reply of is former Lord Commander.

"Let's sleep on it and meet again shall we say in two days time. This time you can name the place. Just send word here. And do not sign the message."

Barristan knew he was dismissed. He would not learn anything more today.

***

Two days later in a small storage room of a blacksmith on the street of steel in Kingslanding.

"Original meeting place", Ser Gerold greeted Ser Barristan.

"It was not my suggestion." Ser Barristan muttered and Ser Gerold saw a man dressed in a large robe bend himself to enter the small door.

Loud hammering noises, normal for the workshop of a blacksmith could be heard, the sound lessening only by a bit when the Master of Whisperers closed the door. He lifted his hood and revealed his bald head.

"Glad to see you are still alive and well, Ser Gerold. Ser Barristan told me the best news I have had heard in years." Varys' voice was as smooth as ever.

"I hope I can return the sentiment." Ser Gerold looked pointedly around the little room.

"I thought this an excellent meeting place. Nobody will suspect. Tobho Mott is part of my loyal network and the noise will make it impossible to hear anything if you are not inside this room. I challenge you to find a spy in here."

The room was tiny. There was no place to hide anything larger than a cat. Ser Barristan saw Varys smirk.

"Now what can I do for you? Ser Barristan wouldn't say much. Only, and I quote 'I had to come for the good of the realm' end quote. Now how do you know that such a thing is enough of a motivation for me?" The Spider looked expectantly at Ser Gerold.

"Would you believe me if I told you a greenseer told me?" came the cryptic reply of Ser Gerold.

"Actually, that's almost the only thing I would believe. I do not think I have ever told anyone."

Ser Barristan could see that Varys was intrigued.

"What if I told you that I had a rightful heir to the throne, a worthy one, one of excellent character, and an elaborate plan to put him on the throne with minimal bloodshed when the time is right?"

Barristan noticed the confidence in Ser Gerold's eyes.

"I would like to hear more, but can not help but wonder why you need me then. If you have that so-called perfect King and perfect plan, why would you need my humble services?" Varys was intrigued.

Barristan wanted to hear the answer to that as well.

"Perhaps you have a role in this perfect plan of ours and we want to trust you?" Ser Gerold was quick to retort.

"Does this plan of yours involve the Targaryens across the narrow sea?" Varys shot back?

"Not necessarily, but even if, then only one of them." Ser Gerold really seemed to enjoy baiting him.

"Good answer, are you talking about a queen instead of a king?"

"No." Ser Gerold kept his answer brief.

"Can you give me an inkling of what my role would be?" Varys was stalling.

Barristan saw Varys was close to figuring it out, his eyes twinkled with excitement.

"Sabotage Littlefinger, ferret out weaknesses of the Lannisters, we're working on a way to remove Renly from the small council without hurting him. We would need you for that as well. Also once everything starts, we will require you to make sure the royal children disappear somewhere safe so if something went awry and there is a moment of chaos, we can still go ahead and be sure they will be safe. We really do not want history to repeat itself. More details will follow when the time is right."

Barristan saw Ser Gerold hesitating as if to say more but kept silent.

"A real humanitarian, your King?" Varys asked.

"Something like that", Ser Gerold confirmed.

"When will the time be right?"

"Our king is still too young", Ser Gerold was playing with him.

"Is he of Targaryen blood?" Varys asked.

"Yes", Ser Gerold didn't hesitate.

"Trueborn?"

"Yes." Ser Gerold was giving away too many clues, Ser Barristan thought. He should stop baiting Varys and tell it like a normal person. Varys was almost there anyway.

Varys looked at Ser Gerold totally relaxed now.

"You know I have figured it out, don't you? You're alive, Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell too I suppose. It's not Daenerys. Viserys is dead and sired no children. The North is involved. It can only be a son of Rhaegar but not by Elia. Benjen Stark is involved…"

"It's a Dragonwolf! Ned brought Lyanna's body home. She was young and healthy, so she died in childbirth?" Varys halted. "The trueborn thing however? Rhaegar was still married to Elia, was he not?"

Barristan saw him looking at Ser Gerold excitement clear on his at other times stoic face.

"Only the grand Septon could … Varys' voice trailed off.

"The marriage with Elia was annulled. They were married. We bore witness. He is trueborn." Ser Gerold was adamant.

Ser Barristan had been a silent witness to the word duel but now he couldn't help but interject, he was hurt. "Why wasn't I informed of the marriage? I fought with him on the Trident, he never said a word! And why did you keep this from me for twelve fucking years?"

This was the first time since entering the room that Ser Gerold turned away from Varys and focussed his attention on Ser Barristan.

"I don't know why Rhaegar didn't tell you." The knight seemed to look for the right words.

"Lyanna was pregnant. I know he had planned to parley with the Starks before the battle began. Clear up the misunderstandings. Prevent the battle. But either Stark wasn't there or something else went wrong. I don't know. I wasn't there. He had ordered us to stay in Dorne. If their unborn child was a son and Rhaegar fell during battle, the three of us had sworn to him we would protect the new King. That was our orders. That was the reason we weren't on the Trident that fateful day. But we have been true to our word and have been protecting our King ever since."

Varys looked at Ser Barristan. "Nobody knew. If ever there was a secret that needed keeping, this was it. They did a splendid job. King Robert would have let them smash his little head to the Wall. I see why they didn't tell you."

Varys turned his attention to Ser Gerold again. "Did the greenseer help you from the beginning? Do you realise how many head aches you have cost me over the years?"

Ser Gerold only answered. "He did, he even did it without my knowledge for many years."

"And", Varys enquired, "what would it take to persuade you to tell me what happened to Tywin Lannister?"