Hello Drinor Here, If you like to become a patron and get access to these chapters earlier, head on over to Patreon and search 'Drinor.'
https://www.Patreon.com/Drinor
The Following 14 Chapters are available for Patrons.
Chapter 46 (My Name is Aemon Targaryen), Chapter 47 (Jenny of Old Stone), Chapter 48 (A Sister's Love), Chapter 49 (Arianne's Passion), Chapter 50 (Trial by Combat), Chapter 51 (Happiness), Chapter 52 (The Calm), Chapter 53 (The Melee), Chapter 54 (Family Reunion), Chapter 55 (The Dragonbinder Horn), Chapter 56 (Family Bonding), Chapter 57 (A Bond Between Siblings), Chapter 58 (Father and Son), Chapter 59 (A Targaryen Love) are already available for Patrons.
Rhaella Targaryen
Throughout her whole life, since she had reached twelve name days, Rhaella had faced challenge after challenge, first starting with Bonifer Hasty, her loyal knight. She had met him in a tourney, and like young fools, they had been at the time, they had fallen in love right away, but just like every beautiful thing in life, that one had to end. Once it was announced that she would marry her brother Aerys Targaryen. Everything between them ended just like that.
She and her lover had been devastated, to the point that he wanted both of them to run away to Essos, away from Westeros, and start a new life together.
"Run away with me," he blurts out when Rhaella tells him that her royal grandsire has commanded her to wed her brother. "We'll go to Braavos, or Myr, or Pentos. Anywhere."
But Rhaella shook her head, tears streaming down her face.
"I have a duty," she sobs, and Bonifer knows those are King Aegon's words in Rhaella's mouth. "A duty to the realm and my family."
He wanted to reach out and hold her. To take her into his arms and stroke her hair and kiss her brow until her sobs quiet.
His arms ache to hold her, stroke her hair, tell her that it will be okay, that it will be fine, that they will find a way, but he is suddenly, sharply, aware that she is not his, that she could never be his.
That day, Rhaella and Bonifer had slept one last time together before he stopped being her lover. After that night, Bonifer always looked after her from the shadows. The man served her still, but since that day, he had never laid with her again.
When the rebellion started, Rhaella had been at the end of her rope, pregnant with Daenerys. She felt this would be the end; she felt in her bones that she could no longer live. She was weak and could hardly keep pushing forward. One night, she gathered enough confidence. Even if this were the end of her, she would at least bring a new life to the world.
"Even if I die, you will get to live. My daughter." Rhaella had whispered, stoking her swollen belly. Each day that passed in Dragonstone, she felt weaker and weaker.
But one day, it ended like lightning up a candle in a dark room. The strength in her body returned, she couldn't clearly remember what she had dreamed of, but she remembered a crow with grey eyes looking at her from a window. She had dreamed of herself dying birthing Daenerys, but in that dream, the crow had looked upon her eyes, the Grey eyes of the crow.
That's all Rhaella remembered from the dream. She couldn't remember if the crow did anything, only that when she woke up the following morning, she felt strength like never before as if every wound and physical pain had disappeared overnight.
The morning after the dream, she received words from the capital. Her son had won in the trident, and Arthur Dayne had slain Robert Baratheon in single combat. The kingdom was already singing songs of the duel, the Knights of Stars they called him, the man who defeated Robert 'The Demon'.
Rhaella had been overjoyed to hear that her son had won and that he hadn't been the one to kill Robert. No one is more cursed than the kinslayer, she had thought back then. Even if Robert had been a second cousin, they still shared blood.
After that day, she started getting better. The crow would often return in her mind, like a shadow following her, but she couldn't see him, but she felt as if the crow had somehow done something to help her.
But when she received words about her brother's death. Rhaella had not shed tears for him; whenever she thought of him, she thought of the many nights of screams. That monster, she was never her brother, that man was someone else, and Rhaella had not found herself mourning for him. But she hadn't been happy. He was still her blood.
That night she had strolled through the gardens of Dragonstone, reminiscing of a past when her brother had been young, full of love and desire to become the best King in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. The brother she remembered had died long ago, her memory of him replaced by this ugly creature. Sometimes she wondered if the madness had always been there, but she hadn't seen it when they were young and innocent.
A month before giving birth to Daenerys, she received words from the capital again. Lyanna Stark and her granddaughter had not survived.
That day, Rhaella had mourned for her good daughter and her granddaughter whom she would never know. She had spent the whole day in Aegon's garden, her back against the dragon's statue.
She would often close her eyes and try to imagine what her granddaughter would have looked like; she had never really met Lyanna Stark. She had heard about her from Rhaegar; perhaps she had seen her a few times from afar but not actually met her. Rhaella didn't have the chance to get to know her, and she would never meet her granddaughter.
After the tragic news, she gave birth to her Daenerys one month later. One look at her, and Rhaella already loved her beautiful daughter; she was so small yet beautiful.
But that same night, she had dreamed of the crow with grey eyes again. This time, Rhaella followed it outside of the castle to the gardens, and finally, the crow flew to the top of a Dragon statue, his eyes looking back at Rhaella. To this day, Rhaella wasn't sure how, but the crow had shed a tear before flying away to the North. After that night, Rhaella never dreamed of that crow again. Eventually, she forgot about him.
One year after giving birth to Daenerys, only then did Rhaella return to King's Landing. When the ship had reached the docks, a part of her had almost expected to see Aerys waiting for her, but it was her son. Despite being only a year since she had last seen him, he looked older. His beard had grown, and his eyes showed sadness and melancholy.
That night after talking with her son, he confessed that he felt guilty.
'All those people. I'm responsible for all their deaths. Rickon Stark, Brandon Stark, Elbert Arryn, and everyone else. Their blood is in my hands because I chased a Prophecy.'
His tone sounded like he was ashamed of what he had done. Rhaella had tried to convince him that it was Aerys's fault that the war had started, but he laughed bitterly.
'My father might have killed them, but it was my decision that led them to be there in the first place. I will never get to look at her again. Rhaegar the Just they call me. More like Rhaegar The Fool.'
Despite his guilt, her son had never allowed himself to slack off on his job. He gave everything he got to become the best king he could be, according to him, to atone for his sins. And to create a realm where his children and grandchildren would grow without fear.
Rhaella had promised herself to help her son in any way possible. As years went by, Rhaella started her spy network, she didn't trust Varys, and she would much rather have his head on top of a spike. She wanted power and influence to help her son; after all, secrets are more valuable than any piece of jewelry.
That was until that faithful day that the discussion of Jon Snow was brought up for the first time. Rhaella still remembered not giving it much thought, but a voice at the back of her head told her repeatedly that there was something hidden in plain sight. Because of this voice, Rhaella had ordered her loyal servant to gather every bit of information on Jon Snow, The Bastard of Winterfell.
It had taken almost a year for her servant to give her any information, The North was too far away, and they didn't originally have any spies in the North. It had taken long before gathering enough spies and giving back information to her.
In the beginning, it was nothing out of the ordinary, a boy who is usually alone, brooding, and decent enough at the sword. That was until she received her third letter.
"My Queen
My little eyes whisper of a singing bastard. His voice was melodic and beautiful. It could make maidens cry rivers—talent hidden behind the mask of worthless.
Your loyal servant."
Reading that letter had shocked her, but she knew it wasn't much. Just because someone was good at singing, it didn't mean they were related to her son.
Sadly the following day, she received words that the boy had disappeared. Rhaella had ordered for him to be found. Unfortunately, he had vanished from the face of the earth.
After one year of searching, her servant informed her that he couldn't find the boy. If he was still alive, then he had no idea where he could be. Therefore Rhaella had held the hope that one day he would return since she couldn't gather more information on him. Instead, she had started gathering information on his birth, everything she could.
It didn't take long for her to find out about Nurse Wylla. Rhaella had wasted no time ordering someone to take her and extract information from her. If she had held crucial information from the Royal Family, Rhaella would know them one way or the other.
Sadly, her servant informed her that Wylla had thrown herself from a bridge, and her body was found in a lake, half eaten by different sea creatures. Her death had halted all of her plans. Rhaella had asked Lady Ashara about Lord Stark, but the lady of Starfall couldn't give her much information. But the only two others who could know anything were Lord Howland Reed and Lord Stark himself.
Rhaella knew she couldn't gather information from them; Lord Reed's castle was Greywater Watch. It is a castle built upon a crannog, one of the man-made floating islands of the swamps, and it does not stay in the same place, making it impossible for ravens, enemies, or spies to find.
The spies had tried to gather any information, but the information they gathered was worthless to prove or disprove her doubts. Therefore Rhaella was left with only one option.
Wait
During the years, she had asked for information on how everyone in the castle had treated Jon. What she had read had made her blood boil to read that Lady Fish had treated Jon like some servant of the house, and even worse than that has filled her blood with rage. She had promised herself that they all would pay.
And after years of waiting, the Valyrian gods had rewarded her patience. After her son announced that a Tourney would be held for the betrothal of Aegon with Margaery that same night, she received a letter from her loyal servant. Bringing her the news that she had waited for so long.
"My Queen
Jon Snow has returned to Winterfell. My eyes saw the king come again. Dark hair and grey eyes. A Dragon with Stark Colors.
Your loyal servant."
Hearing that, Rhaella had it all almost confirmed, but not yet. She had yet to see him with her own eyes. To see him, and once for all to know if she had been chasing a ghost for so many years, if she had gone mad with grief or if he really was her lost, grandson.
When House Stark arrived at Harrenhal, Rhaella had been there when they kneeled but due to the distance and him behind them made it hard for her eyes to get a good look at him.
But she knew he would be at the feast; therefore, she had ordered The Northern Table to be close to the Royal Family but not closer than Dorne and The Reach.
Sadly, when she arrived at the feast. Jon Snow was nowhere to be seen. She had checked several times, but he wasn't seated there. She had kept calm and later had asked the servant who told her that she had led the bastard to sit at the lower northerner table; hearing that had almost convinced Rhaella to have the girl thrown outside and find work somewhere else, but knowing she had kids to feed, Rhaella had warned her that next time to follow her order.
She had barely slept, but eventually, she had fallen into her slumber, dreaming of a charred man holding a crown of roses in his hands.
A cry's crow had abruptly waked her up at her window. The crow had kept screaming at her window until she woke up, tapping the glass with his beak. Once she had woken up from her slumber, the crow had flown away.
Rhaella had decided to follow the crow outside, wearing her clothes. She had left her bedchamber with Ser Barristan right behind her, who had been surprised to see her awake at such an early hour.
"My Queen isn't too early in the morning?!" Barristan questioned respectfully.
"I feel like taking a walk, Ser Barristan. I heard fresh air of the morning is good for my old bones; wouldn't you say so, Ser?" She answered with her own question, looking at him over her shoulder. The old knight chuckled, hearing her.
"I like the fresh air, your grace. But I like to practice more. That keeps my old bones from rusting away." The old knight smiled, amused. They kept walking around, and the servants and soldiers would bow their heads respectfully whenever they made contact with her.
Rhaella, on the other hand, saw the crow flying toward the training yard. She followed it, and Ser Barristan soon noticed they were going in a certain direction instead of just aimlessly walking around.
"Your grace, we are heading to the training yard!" The knight informed her. The queen ignored him. Her eyes saw only two figures in the training yard. It was very early in the morning, so it wasn't really surprising that not many people were around. The sun had just started to appear over the horizon, its light illuminating the area.
Once she got closer, she recognized the golden hair of Jaime Lannister; despite being over a decade since they last saw each other, Rhaella could still easily recognize him.
But when her eyes landed on the lad across the Lannister lord, her heart skipped a beat; her feet stopped moving. She looked at him, squinting her eyes; she could see him clearly. Her heart was beating faster the more she looked.
"Your grace, is everything alright?" Barristan asked beside her, making her escape her deep thoughts. Rhaella didn't answer right away. Instead, she straightened herself up, and her eyes briefly flickered at the old knight behind her.
With one look, she could tell he was paying attention to the kid's movements.
"Barristan, let's get a bit closer. I'm sure Lord Jaime won't mind a small audience." Rhaella spoke with her Queen voice, sharp and firm, leaving no place for arguments.
Barristan gave her a confused look, but she ignored him. She walked forward, Barristan following her without saying anything.
The sound of steel clashing with steel reached her ears as they got closer. Rhaella kept her eyes on the boy, who kept blocking the blows aimed at him. Both were moving too much around, and it seemed none of them had noticed the presence of the queen standing just ten meters away from them.
Looking at his movements alone reminded her of Rhaegar. She had watched her son spar in the training yard many times. She remembered how his body moved.
Rhaella could tell the kid was good at fighting, not just good. He was excellent. Jaime aimed his sword at the kid's shoulder, but the lad dodged instead of simply blocking. Rhaella watched as the kid kept dodging, and avoiding instead of direct combat, until a certain point, he blocked a blow coming from Jaime, which ended with Jaime having the dull blade close to his neck.
Rhaella quickly looked at Barristan to see his reaction; she almost laughed at the completely astonished face he was showing, but she could see he was impressed with what he was seeing.
Her eyes turned to look at Jon, who had moved away his sword, now shaking hands with Lord Jaime, who laughed out loud.
"I have to be honest, Jon Snow. You're one of the best swordsmen I have fought in my life." Jaime complimented with a broad smile, slapping Jon's shoulder, who smiled with pride hearing that.
"Thank you, Lord Jaime. But I couldn't help but notice that you weren't giving it all." Jon commented with a tilt of his head, and the Lannister Lord raised an eyebrow.
"Well, if we happen to fight at the Melee. I will show you everything I got." Jaime promised; Jon was about to ask him if he wanted a rematch when a loud cough made them both turn to face Queen Rhaella of House Targaryen.
Rhaella watched as Jaime bowed his head while the kid kneeled in front of her without hesitation.
"Your grace." They both said at the same time.
"You can rise, my lord," Rhaella ordered, standing only three meters away. The moment he stood up, his eyes looked back at hers, allowing her to get a good look at his face. The sunlight fell directly behind his face, giving her a perfect view of him.
Her throat went dry; she felt a lump forming in her throat. It felt like she was back in time, looking at her own son. She could almost see him. The way he smiled, the way he would look down whenever he did something wrong.
Looking at Jon, her eyes analyzed every detail of his facial expression. The more she looked, the more she felt like crying, hugging him, kissing his cheeks, anything. Everything about her...grandson, screamed Rhaegar. It almost felt like looking at the past.
Rhaella could see a few small differences between her son and Jon. His eyes and hair were Lyanna's. But everything else was Rhaegar. He looked very similar to him, to the point that it was frightening. It was uncanny to look at him.
She hadn't even noticed herself moving closer to him; her fingers were twitching, and her breathing was rapid. She felt her eyes burning, and her lips trembled. She felt like spreading her arms and hugging him.
But the voice of Barristan behind her made her escape her thoughts. "Your grace, are you alright?" The old knight asked, looking between her and The Bastard. Just like the Queen, he had seen the similarities between Jon and The King, but he brushed it off as his mind playing tricks with him.
Rhaella quickly regained her composure. She realized that Jon didn't know who she truly was to him. Clearing her throat, she noticed that her grandson kept his eyes down, not daring to look at her like he was afraid of her.
Clearing her throat. "Quite a fight, My Lord. I have to be honest; I haven't seen someone fight quite like you for a long time." Rhaella spoke with a soft smile, her voice sounding like how she spoke with her family, something Barristan noticed right away, making him furrow his brows. Jon still didn't look up at her, his face looking at the ground.
"Thank you, your grace, and I'm no lord," Jon said respectfully, taking a deep breath to calm himself, still keeping his eyes down.
Rhaella felt her blood boil when he said that he was no lord. You're much more than that, she thought before clearing her throat.
"Jon Snow, your abilities with a sword are incredible. I want to talk with you over a cup of tea." Rhaella said quietly and softly.
Her voice and words made Jaime and Barristan look at her as if she had suddenly gone mad. Rhaella noticed that her grandson didn't look surprised by her invitation, she didn't know if he knew the truth, but she would tell him if he didn't.
"An hour later, in my chambers, Jon. Don't be late." Rhaella commanded. This made Jon nod his head right away. It was harder than she imagined to walk away, but somehow she did, Barristan following her behind, looking back at Jon before turning to look at his queen.
"Your grace. I'm sorry for asking, but what is happening? You just met him?" Barristan asked, trying to keep his voice down low and respectful.
"Fighters like him are quite rare, Ser Barristan. He could be an excellent Kingsguard." Lying came to her as easy as breathing, but Barristan could tell she wasn't being honest. He knew it was a good enough excuse, but they didn't know what kind of person he was. For all they knew, Jon Snow could be a dishonorable knight. Is he even a knight? Barristan asked himself before turning his attention back to Queen Rhaella.
"Your grace, even if that's the case, you should talk with Lord Stark first." Barristan pointed it out.
Ohh, I will talk to him. Once I talk with my grandson, he will be Next, Rhaella promised herself feeling her blood boiling. She couldn't wait one hour to meet him again. A part of her had wanted to tell him right there and then, but she hadn't been Queen for so long and not learning how to control her own emotions.
"I want to measure him myself, Ser. I see nothing wrong with it." Rhaella said innocently, dismissing his question.
"Your grace, I should be inside with you if he-" "That won't be needed, Ser Barristan." Rhaella quickly interrupted him. Dismissing his concern, she smiled softly at a passing servant who bowed her head.
Barristan didn't understand why she wanted to talk with a young man like him alone, and someone who clearly showed that he was skillful with a blade. While Barristan had noticed that Lord Jaime had held himself back, so had this Jon Snow.
"Your Grace. Are you sure this is safe? You're meeting with a young man in your chambers, someone you don't even know. P-people will talk." Barristan pointed, feeling a little embarrassed by his own words.
"Don't worry about what Lords might say. Your only duty is to allow Jon to enter once he arrives and not allow anyone else to enter while we are inside. Not even My Son." Rhaella ordered, turning to face him with a cold look, her eyes, and voice like an Awakening Dragon.
Barristan almost gasped, not allowing the King to enter?!! What is happening here? He wanted to ask her, but it wasn't his job to doubt her judgment. He was a Kingsguard and would keep her secrets.
"As you command your grace." Barristan reluctantly accepted, bowing his head.
One Hour Later
It was taking too long; Rhaella always thought of herself as a patient woman. She had waited years. She didn't care how long something took as long as the end results were favorable. But now she was pacing around her chamber. She had ordered servants to bring her food, water, sweet water, and many dishes. If the servants had noticed the amount of food they were carrying for her was too much, they didn't comment on it.
While she waited, Rhaella wondered how even to start the conversation. She didn't know how much Jon knew or if he knew anything. Soon Rhaella decided not to think about it.
Rhaella knew he had probably already eaten breakfast, but she didn't want to take that chance. After what felt like years of waiting, a KNOCK on the door made her escape her thoughts.
"My Queen, Jon Snow is here," Barrista spoke from the other side of the door.
"Let him in."
The moment the door opened, Rhaella felt her heart beat faster, but she forced herself to stay calm. He entered her chamber, wearing a different set of clothes, his hair was covering his right side slightly, but she still could clearly see his features.
Barristan gave her a look as if making sure she was safe; Rhaella simply nodded at him as the door closed with a loud CLICK sound.
Once the door closed, Rhaella stood on her feet. Jon gave her a soft smile, but he was mainly looking everywhere but her face, the way he brooded and tried to look away, reminded her of Rhaegar.
It seemed her grandson had taken after his father more than just looks. Just the way he walked and stood reminded her of Rhaegar. Silence spread over them. No one was saying anything.
Rhaella soon realized Jon didn't want to talk first and started the conversation. She needed to take the first step. Clearing her throat. "I'm happy you accepted my invitation Jon, have a seat," Rhaella said softly, pointing at the chair right in front of him. For a moment, he stood there before he scooted out the chair, sitting on it, his eyes focused on the cup of tea and the many different dishes in front of him.
"Have you ever drink tea?" Rhaella asked, reaching for the steaming teapot; her hands grasped the pot before pouring for him and herself.
"No, my queen. Tea is not something used in the North." Jon said, looking at his own reflection on the surface of the tea.
Your grandmother
"Well, I hope it is to your liking," Rhaella said, smiling, taking a sip from her cup. Jon took a sip, and a small smile spread on his face. That smile made her heart skip a beat.
"Is very good, your grace. Perhaps, I should start drinking more tea." Jon said humorously, with a sad smile, still not looking directly at Rhaella, who smiled softly. She poured a small amount of honey, stirring the honey into her tea.
"I saw your fight against Lord Jaime. He's quite a fighter, and to see someone best him that is not named Arthur Dayne, is quite a rare sight." Rhaella complimented him, taking a sip from her tea.
"Lord Jaime was holding back," Jon added right away, taking another sip from his tea, quite liking the taste despite the lack of honey on it to make it sweet.
Giving the credit to someone else, he's humble, Rhaella thought, paying attention to every word he said.
"So were you," Rhaella added, moving the spoon around her teacup. Her words made Jon look up at her, surprised. His grey eyes looked at her purple ones.
"Don't be surprised, Jon. I might not be like Ser Barristan, but I have seen enough fights in my life to know when someone is not giving it all." Rhaella said with her grandmotherly tone and the way her grandson smiled. She knew it was opening him up to her slowly.
"I-I never want to give it all. It is better if people don't know what I'm capable of." Jon said, stuttering a little, feeling slightly embarrassed by how Queen Rhaella was looking at him. It made him feel like a kid who was just caught stealing lemon cakes.
Rhaella nodded, she wondered if those were his thoughts or someone's else, but she decided to change the subject slightly.
"I have heard quite a lot about you, Jon," Rhaella spoke, taking another sip of her tea before gesturing for Jon to eat pie, but he quickly shook his head.
"There's not much about me. Your grace." Jon said, taking a sip. From the way he talked, she could tell he was getting more comfortable with her, and that made her heart warm up.
"I would disagree, Jon. For starters, you have the largest direwolf and an Eagle of The North." Rhaella said with a slight smirk when he smiled back.
"Ghost is a good friend, and he found me. Same for Kessa, she's a dear friend. She has been with me even longer than Ghost. She found me right after I got better."
From how he shut his jaw tightly, Rhaella knew that had been a slip up by him, but decided to act as if she hadn't heard him. A question for another time, she thought. Then she remembered the eagle's name. Kessa! But that means Free Will in High Valyrian, she thought, wondering if Jon just thought the name sounded good.
"They must be a sight to see. I heard your wolf caused quite a havoc when he first arrived." Rhaella added softly. Jon chuckled slightly, making her heart warm up. Rhaella knew she was getting closer...
"Ghost doesn't like to be away from us, but my promise of riding together changed his mind," Jon said, smiling fully now, his body no longer tense, something Rhaella could tell right away.
"I wished I had been there to see it. It must be quite something to see a wolf bigger than a horse," Rhaella added, laughing along with him; even his laughter is just like Rhaegar's laughter, she thought, suddenly feeling as if she was back in time when Rhaegar had been much younger.
"What about Kessa? I don't know much about The Eagles of The North, but aren't they supposed to live beyond the wall." Rhaella asked, humming at the end.
"They do, but just like Ghost, she found me, and we became good friends. It is quite magnificent to ride with her in the sky."
"You can ride her?!" Rhaella couldn't keep her voice down, sounding both amazed and concerned.
She was amazed that one of her blood could fly an eagle and concerned that her grandson had done something so dangerous and reckless.
"Yes, my Queen. Once, she was large and strong enough to carry me. I was able to take the skies." Jon answered smiling, remembering the first time, a year after meeting The Free Folk. Val and Tormund had been the loudest that day.
"Were you secured?" Rhaella asked right away, her voice sounding like she was scolding him.
"Y-yes. Your grace." Jon answered with a downcast look.
Rhaella wanted to tell him not to try again unless he was using a saddle but held her tongue for now.
Silence fell over them once again; Rhaella offered pie to Jon, who this time accepted. From the way he was eating, Rhaella knew he was enjoying it.
"I heard that you disappeared from Winterfell for some time. Why is that?" Rhaella asked, sounding a bit harsher than she had wanted; his hand lying on the table became a fist.
"I wanted to see what's beyond my home. I wanted to go around the world. Thinking of the adventures I could have, sailing, and not have people judge based on my name." From his hushed voice, Rhaella knew he hadn't wanted her to hear the end part.
"And I wanted to know the truth o-of my mother," Jon added after a short pause, looking down at his lap; looking like a boy, she wanted to give him a hug to make him feel better.
"Did you find your answers?" Rhaella asked carefully instead of doing that. This was it. She could feel it.
"I always wanted to know who my mother was, your grace. Lord Stark never spoke of her, I asked him who she was since I could remember myself, but he never spoke a word. I-I got tired of waiting and decided to go out there and simply not be known as the bastard of Winterfell." Jon explained, excluding the part he had talked with Bloodraven for now. He figured his real family didn't need to know about him. Perhaps Later.
Rhaella leaned a bit forward, her hand moving on top of his. She felt his hand stiff a little before relaxing under her touch.
"Where did you go?"
"Beyond the wall."
It took everything for Rhaella not to say something to him for being so foolish. How many things could have happened to him there, he could have gotten killed, but she ignored that for now. He was here with her. He is safe here, she thought, for it herself to not say something that would make him feel bad or ashamed of himself.
"What did you find there?" Rhaella asked slowly, stroking his hand.
"That people there were born on the wrong side of the wall," Jon answered with a little smile.
Rhaella grasped his hand a little. She wondered what made him smile like that; perhaps he had known someone that left an impression on him. "What made you return?"
For the longest time, there was complete silence between them. Not even a whisper. The only sound heard was the sound of their breathing. And after what felt like hours to Rhaella, he opened his mouth to speak.
"The Truth, your grace." Jon broke the silence, his eyes looking up at Rhaella. She kept quiet, something he appreciated.
"I wanted to know the truth from his mouth. I-I asked him who my mother was, and he confessed to me." Jon said, his lips trembling.
"What did he say?" My grandson.
Jon took a deep breath, his hand trembling, his eyes burning. He took a deep breath to calm himself.
"That my mother is Lyanna Stark," Jon said, a tear rolling down his right cheek.
"And my father is your son. Rhaegar Targaryen, The King." Jon finally said it, his shoulders slumped down, feeling as if a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders, his eyes burning more than ever before, only now he saw unshed tears in her purple eyes.
Her hand went to his face, touching his cheek, her thumb wiping away the tear. "You have returned to us. My grandson." Rhaella spoke with a motherly tone.
Jon didn't know who did it first, whether it was her or him, but he found himself hugging her. Her arms around him, holding him close, his face resting on the side of her neck.
"Shhh, you're with us, dear grandson." She whispered softly to his ear, holding him close to her. Only now, she heard him sobbing against her, his cries muffled. She patted his head, kissing his cheek and talking softly and sweetly.
Jon wondered if this was how it felt to be hugged by a mother. He would never know, but this one felt better than any other. Warm and full of love. He felt loved in her arms like a mother would love their child.
Rhaella didn't know how long they had stayed together, but eventually, they broke away. His eyes were red with tears, and his cheeks were puffy.
"You look so much like your father, Aemon," Rhaella said with a little laugh, stroking his cheek. She felt good calling him that.
Jon felt strange to be called Aemon. His entire life, he had been called 'Jon.' He wondered if he would ever get used to it. Perhaps never.
"What now?" Jon finally asked, looking at his grandmother.