Jaehaerys Targaryen could feel the Stranger slowly walking towards him, yet, for the first time in years, he felt he could die peacefully.
The two years that followed the Great Council had taken whatever was left of his strength, despite the fact that he was only sixty-nine, his body and mind have reached their limit. He would not live to see another moon.
Jaehaerys was not afraid of death, he longed for it actually, he wanted to see his love and all of his children, to right the wrongs he had committed as a father and a husband. He was ready to ask for their forgiveness and hold them in his arms again.
He did not want to leave his bed today, nor did he have the strength to do so. Unfortunately, his old body still needed to pester him despite the near end.
"Where is my great-grandson?" He asked the maid who helped him to the bathroom.
"Prince Jaehaeron was in the courtyard with Prince Daemon."
A small smile appeared on the old man's face, this little Black Dragon was full of energy. The day of his fifth nameday, instead of celebrating with a cake like all of his uncles, aunts and cousins had done before him, he had gone straight to his Father's chambers with a wooden sword in his hand and forced him to get up so they could train together. Jaehaerys had been half surprised when Daemon had done so without so much of a complaint, later that day, his grandson had revealed that he had been as eager to train his son as the boy had been himself. Something that the Old King saw with his own eyes.
Daemon's condition in the past few years had changed drastically, the man he had become when he had married Lyanna Stark was gone. What was left of him was a cold and distant person who indulged in vices late at night to forget about the pain of loneliness he was constantly feeling. Jaehaeron was the only person in the world who had the ability to revive his father, when Daemon's laugh was heard, it generally meant that his son was by his side. If not, then it meant that he was humiliating someone or had drank too much wine. It was better not to be nearby if that was the case.
Despite his flaws, Jaehaerys had deemed Daemon a better father than he had been himself.
On the other hand, Jaehaeron had grown and matured a lot faster than his cousins Laena, Laenor and Rhaenyra, something Daemon never missed to point out out loud.
The black haired Targaryen was spending a lot of time in the library, in the training yards, and with the new teachers that Jaehaerys had personally invited to Court in order to quench his great-grandson's thirst for knowledge. 'Jon' -as he preferred to be called- was determined to speak High-Valyrian as fluently as his Father, and more surprisingly, he wanted to learn the Old Tongue like the Starks of old.
Finding a teacher to teach him Westeros' first language had been Jaehaerys' last trial. Especially considering the fact that there wasn't one specific Old Tongue, but rather multiple dialects that derived from the same old language.
Surprisingly enough, after months of research Jaehaerys' envoys found the perfect teacher in Braavos. A former wildling girl named Tania, who had climbed past the Wall years ago in search for a new life in the Free Cities. Jaehaerys had given her self-conduct and a very good pay in exchange for teaching his great-grandson. And teaching him she was, despite the colossal amount of work the young Prince had before him.
As the maid was bringing the Old King back to his bed, the latter started thinking about his legacy. Viserys was not as strong as his uncle and father had been and he longed for a son the same way Jaehaerys had done before Aemon's birth. His heir had looked at Jaehaeron and Daemon with envy and sadness after Aemma's failed pregnancy. Jaehaerys hoped that Viserys would get a son of his own, but he knew better than to wait for the Gods to be kind. For a long time he had considered betrothing Rhaenyra and Jaehaeron, in case Viserys would fail to get an heir of his own. But he'd dismissed that idea. Alysanne had always been the one who knew better about betrothals, he wasn't going to try his hand in something he had never been good for during the last moons of his life. Moreover, he was done choosing duty over family. He would not ruin the lives of two children of his blood right before his death.
If he was honest with himself though, there was another reason why he did not want Jaehaeron to marry Rhaenyra, it was something he needed to discuss with Daemon.
"Wait until they are done," He instructed the handmaiden. "Then inform Prince Daemon that I wish to speak with him in private."
It took an hour for his grandson to finally enter his chambers, Jaehaerys simply greeted him with a small smile from his bed.
"Grandfather." Daemon said as he sat by the edge of the bed.
"Hello Daemon… How is Jon doing?"
"As well as he's always done, but you didn't bring me here to talk about his health, did you?"
"No, I brought you here to talk about his future."
Daemon's did not express anything, yet he slightly leaned forward, curious and eager to hear his grandfather's words.
"Viserys is without an heir, for now, and should things stay that way, then you should both consider betrothing your children to cement both their claims to the Throne and prevent the Velaryons from interfering again in the matter of successions."
Daemon rose an eyebrow, he had no problem marrying his niece to his son, this match was the most logic to preserve the strength of the house of the Dragon and its blood. However, something else was bothering him.
"That much is obvious, but why telling me this so early?"
Jaehaerys took a deep breath, ignored the pain in his chest and answered:
"Because, Daemon, you should not sit on the Iron Throne."
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees, the Rogue Prince's stare hardened in a blink.
The Old King rose a hand to ease his grandson's temper.
"Listen to me, do you sincerely imagine yourself sitting on the small council for decades to decide the fate of the smallfolk? To end the squabbles between the Lords and the ladies on your own while the leeches in our court, feast on your bones? With the crown holding your sword's hand no matter the threat that some of them could pose to our House? You were not meant to wear the Crown, Daemon, you are meant to hold a sword against our enemies, to protect Viserys, Aemma, Rhaenyra and Jaehaeron. I will not disown you nor should Viserys do it in order to spare you a public humiliation that you do not deserve. What I am asking you to do, is to step down should a son not be given to Viserys and Aemma, so you can protect Jon and Rhaenyra and ally yourself with Viserys to prepare his succession. For Jaehaeron could soon become the most coveted boy in the Seven Kingdoms, and all the ladies from the noblest families will be thrown by their fathers at his feet in the hope to put their blood on the throne."
Slowly, Daemon swallowed his anger back. What his grandfather was asking him to do was to choose between his family and the throne, something he had been doing countless times since he was a boy.
Today however, the answer was obvious, how could he chose a Throne of swords over his boy? Lyanna's son? His greatest pride?
As hard as it was to admit, Daemon knew that he would hate the life at Court as King, mostly because he wouldn't be able to keep his sword sheathed and would almost be forced to remarry. And Daemon would never remarry, never.
"I will consider it." He answered simply. After all, a son could still be given to Viserys, and his grandfather was giving him a choice, this was no ultimatum.
Jaehaerys smiled slightly, he would not get a better answer from Daemon, nor had he expected a better one.
"To be honest with you, Daemon, I hope Jaehaeron never sits on the Iron Throne." He sighed.
That statement surprised the Rogue prince more than it angered him, for the man knew his grandfather's love for the black-haired prince.
"Why?" Daemon asked, confused. "He could be as great as you were."
"No." Jaehaerys shook his head. "He could be far better."
"Then why?"
"Because…" he sighed again. "Because the crown prevented me from being the Father and Husband that I should have been. Since I was meant to wear it, I only had one goal in mind : to be the greatest king there was in order to crush Maegor's rule, to humiliate him and Visenya. I have succeeded in that endeavor, now history will remember Maegor as the worst king there was during our first century of rule, and perhaps the worst there will ever be. But it came at a cost, while the Seven Kingdoms have thrived under my rule, our family has suffered far more than I could have possibly imagined. I have outlived eleven of my thirteen children, and your grandmother… Yet… our family is divided, the noble houses keep trying to draw our valyrian blood from our daughters and to sit their own by our son's side. I wish for Viserys and Aemma to have as many children as they can, but should that not happen, then it will be up to Jaehaeron and to Rhaenyra to multiply. Since I know you do not wish to remarry and there is nothing I or Viserys could say or do that would change your mind."
"I see your point, grandfather, but I fail to understand why you do not wish for Jaehaeron to sit the throne one day."
"To put it simply, if Jon sits on the Iron Throne, the Seven Kingdoms will thrive better than ever, but I believe he will be so caught in his kingly duties that he might neglect his family even more than I have. That is not my wish, I hope Jon lives a long life in which he will produce many children to repopulate our house. Too many dragons are, after all, riderless. How long will it take before a half-blood from another noble family, birthed by a daughter of our house, decides to try his chance with Vhagar? There must be more Targaryens, raised with strength and love, who would be taught the duty to protect our house. This is an absolute necessity."
Daemon… understood his grandfather's opinion, but did not really agree with it. If Jaehaerys was so sure of Jaehaeron's greatness, then by all means, he should sit on the Iron Throne for the good of the family. And if their family was in need of new members, then Daemon would find Valyrian women to breed, and Viserys or Jaehaeron could simply legitimize them. That way, House Targaryen could gain ten members in a year. Moreover, if Jon never were to sit on the Iron Throne, then what would his life be like? Would his brilliant little boy serve Viserys' brood for the rest of his life? Would his mind and talents be kept to benefit others, despite the fact that he has the ability to accomplish more than Jaehaerys himself? No, Daemon knew that should Viserys and Aemma being given a son, then Jaehaeron's might would eclipse the rule of the boy who would be his nephew. He needed not to worry about his boy's future, he just needed to protect him. Jaehaeron would forge his own path, Daemon was sure of it. He just needed one thing to fulfill his destiny…
"I suppose that this talk is pointless if Aemma produces a son anyway." He said shaking his head. "There is one thing that Jaehaeron needs though; his egg has not hatched. He must be given…"
"He already has a dragon, Daemon."Jaehaerys interrupted him with a smile on his face. "And he will bond with him the moment I leave this world, you do not need to worry about that."
The Rogue Prince's eyes widened for a second, before a large smile appeared on his face. He should have known his son would exceed his expectations.
"I see… Was there anything else, grandfather?"
"Call for your son when he is done with his lessons, whatever little time I have left, I wish to spend it with him."
That was something Daemon was not surprised to hear. His grandfather and his son had been thick as thieves in the past two years. Jaehaeron went to the Old King's chambers almost every day after he was done with his lessons. The Rogue Prince had thought -and hoped- that Jaehaerys had been teaching his son about the duties of a King the same way -if not better- he had taught Viserys. The fact that the Old King expected Vermithor to become Jon's mount had strengthened his belief. But perhaps he had been wrong, perhaps Jaehaeron was simply the last person who could understand the mind of Jaehaerys, perhaps his presence was the last Jaehaerys could enjoy.
There wasn't a day that passed when Daemon was not as intrigued as he was proud of his boy, his little dragon would probably surprise him for the rest of his life.
(-)(-)(-)
Sometimes, Jon considered his schedule absurdly full, and often wondered why he had felt the need to constantly busy himself.
A not so small part of him thought that he had done so to forget about his previous life and live this new one to the fullest without allowing himself a second to think about the past; another believed that he was compensating for the numerous things he would have wanted to learn as the Bastard of Winterfell. The last part of him simply believed that his newfound princely ego had taken the best of him, and he now constantly felt the need to be the most perfect prince there was, in order to make his family proud and to be better armed for any kind of situation he might fall in.
Fortunately, Jon often had to study on his own, and did so under the Red Keep's heart tree, where he could read his books without anyone disturbing him -despite the constant presence of the Kingsguard-.
Since the Old Tongue did not have an alphabet -or perhaps it did, but Tania had never heard of it-, he phonetically wrote the words he was learning in the common tongue in order to remember them. High Valyrian had become his second mother tongue since his father, great-grandfather, uncle and aunt had spoken to him almost solely in this language since his second birth.
The Dialects of the Old Tongue were another matter entirely, and he had to study it three to four hours a day to make significant progress. He also considered learning Bastard Valyrian, but his schedule was already full, and he wanted to build his new body as much as he wanted to sharp his mind better than he ever did. His training sessions with his father were his favorite part of his routine. Daemon looked at him the way Jon had always wanted Ned Stark to look at him; a loving father who would do anything for him. As the years went by, the former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch embraced his new identity. His title had given him an authoritarian presence that he would never have imagined to possess one day, fortunately for him, the humility he had learned as a bastard motivated him into earning his new status with hard work. For Jaehaeron Targaryen wanted the same thing Jon Snow had wanted; to earn and prove his worth.
However, the hours he spent studying and training weighted heavily on his young body, and as he was sitting by the Heart Tree reading his notes, he yawned like a seal and struggled to stay awake under the watchful and proud look of Ser Harrold Westerling.
He probably would have fallen asleep, but a little girl wearing a green dress and looking quite worried caught his attention as she walked towards him.
"Hum… my apologies." She said with a surprisingly perfect bow. "I am looking for the library, do you know where it is?"
As a Prince, Jon had met many noble girls his age, the one that was currently speaking to him had a perfect speech despite her apparent youth. Jon was impressed, even Rhaenyra did not speak so well.
"You're on the wrong side of the Red Keep my lady," he answered. "Also, pardon my curiosity, but
what is a lady doing all alone without an escort?"
The young lady's cheeks immediately turned red.
"My father told me to wait for him in my room, but I grew bored. I wanted to pick a book from the library to help pass the time."
"Why didn't you ask one of your handmaidens to bring you one?"
"Because they don't know what I like." She said, her tone still courteous, yet Jon could see that she was getting worrier.
"You should not roam the Red Keep's corridors on your own, my lady. Ser Harrold and I will escort you to the library."
Said Ser Harrold acknowledged his prince's request and came forward to greet the young lady.
"That's a knight of the Kingsguard." The girl blurted out in shock, forgetting her manners.
"Is it?" Jon asked with a mocking tone as he turned to the bald knight. "Are you?"
Ser Harrold merely chuckled at his prince's antics, the lady on the other hand was looking at the black haired Targaryen with a flabbergasted look, then, she noticed the three-headed dragon sewed on the boy's doublet.
"I forgot to introduce myself," Jon said as he took her hand to kiss it. "I am Prince Jaehaeron Targaryen, at your service my lady."
Said lady's head looked like it was about to explode according to the crimson color her face had taken. She bowed once again, though she was clumsier this time.
"My name is Alicent Hightower, my prince, I am honored to meet you."
For a second, Jon's face turned hard as stone, for his memory of his previous life came back in a blink. His first reaction was to acknowledge the trouble this little girl would give him in a decade once she had grown strong and beautiful. His second reaction… was a feeling of astonishment mixed with disgust. This little girl was his age! His uncle Viserys was twenty years their senior! This was so wrong…
Jon did not have time to analyze his situation further, he put on a charming smile the moment the young lady raised her head back. A skill he had learned from his great-grandfather.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady." He said with courtesy as he held his arm out for her to take. "Please follow me."
Alicent looked quite intimidated by her prince and had to swallow her saliva to get a hold on the obvious whirlwind of emotions that was going inside her head. Jon could not help but compare her to Sansa, who acted almost the same way on the day she met Joffrey. Jon knew he had to make her comfortable as she took his arm.
"So tell me, my lady…" He said as he led her to the library. "What kind of books do you like to read?"
"History books!" She answered quickly. "I mean… I like history books, my prince."
"There is no need to be so formal, my lady. You have to act that way when we are in public. But when we are between us you do not need to finish all of your sentences with 'my prince'."
Alicent seemed surprised by his words and gentleness, and Jon felt her grip around his arm relax a little. As they kept walking, the young lady spoke, with more confidence in each word, about her favorite subjects. From what Jon could tell, she had a real passion for ancient civilization like Valyria and the Rhoynar. Something that surprised him a little for he would have supposed that southern ladies like her were more into the Faith of the Seven and the tales of knights and maidens than into eastern history. But perhaps, just perhaps, Jon had thought to much about Sansa than he should have when it came to Alicent Hightower. As the latter kept talking, the former realized with sadness that he would never truly burry his previous life as he'd thought he could. Sansa had been awful to him the moment she had learned what the word 'bastard' meant, yet, he would give everything to hold her in his arms one more time. Sansa had been the first sibling he'd seen as a baby, she would always have a special place in his heart.
"My prince?" Alicent pulled him out of his thoughts when she saw his saddened face. "Is everything all right?"
Jon quickly put his charming smile back on.
"My apologies, I was lost in a sad memory."
"Oh!" Alicent sounded surprisingly worried. "I apologize if I have annoyed you with my…"
She was suddenly interrupted when a red and black shadow bumped into her prince, knocking the air out of him, and fell on the ground as a result while Jon struggled to stay up despite his state of fatigue and the impact caused by the silver haired projectile he had taken in the stomach.
"Ow! My butt!" The projectile complained as she rose her head. "Oh! Hi Jon!"
"Rhaenyra…" the black haired prince grumbled as he massaged his belly. "Shouldn't you be attending your lesson at this hour?"
"No." She denied as if scandalized by what he was implying. "And a chivalrous prince would help a princess back up."
"What princess?" Jon asked with a mocking grin on his face. "All I see is a baby dragon that has escaped from the Dragon Pit."
"Ah, ah." She replied as she got back on her feet on her own. "Wait until Syrax is large enough, then I will…"
"Princess!" An angry voice that the royal children knew very well screeched from the corner of the corridor. "Get back here this instant! Your lesson is not over!"
Jon frowned deeply as he was throwing a look of dismay at his cousin who was smiling sheepishly.
She suddenly grabbed his other arm and started shaking him like a young apple tree full of ripe fruit.
"Please Jon, help me!" She half-whispered. "Septa Marlow is horrible!"
Alicent immediately panicked when she heard those words.
"That's the Septa?! If she knows I am out of my room, she is going to tell my father!"
Jon had a hard time trying to stay serious, for the panicked faces of the two young girls had triggered many fond memories. He sighed fondly, and pulled his kingsguard's cape.
"You two hide in there, I'll get rid of the Septa."
Alicent was about to protest when Rhaenyra instantly grabbed her arm and pulled her behind Ser Harrold while the knight made sure to cover them with his cape while he was fighting off a smile.
The next second, Septa Marlow emerged from the corner of the corridor with a heavy breath and a face reddened by anger and frustration. Fortunately, she remembered her manners and bowed deeply when she saw Jon, who would have payed to see Septa Mordane do the same.
"My Prince, I am sorry to bother you, have you seen the Princess?"
"Yes, she ran straight to the garden. She seemed in quite a hurry."
"By the Seven!" The septa almost spat. "That child is an abomination! Her parents will hear about this! She must see reason before the Seven who are One curse her for her unholy behavior!"
Now that was the wrong thing to say to someone like Jon, who had not a high opinion of septons, septas and the Seven.
"What do you mean, curse her?" he asked with a neutral tone.
The Septa took a moment to regain her breath, and solemnly answered:
"You would know if you would come to my lessons, my prince. History has demonstrated that unholy knights and ladies who refused to see the light, lived short and sad lives. Targaryens are no exceptions to this rule, those who rejected the Seven and partook in debauchery will spend the rest of eternity in the Seven Hells. Your mother had enough sense to leave her unholy motherland, but had she seen reason, the Mother would have made sure she would have lived past your birth."
"Septa Marlow…" Jon murmured angrily. "I suggest you leave my sight immediately, and I strongly advise you to never, ever, mention my mother again. Or I'll make sure you will be sent to a sept particularly close to the Iron Islands. Am I clear?"
Ser Harrold Westerling was actually impressed how quickly the Septa's face had turned from red to white.
"Am I clear?!"
"Yes, my prince." Her voice was shaking as much as her hands.
" Good, leave my sight, now!"
With visible renewed energy, Septa Marlow quickly disappeared from his line of sight, once she was gone, Jon released a heavy sigh to relax his muscles. Rhaenyra quickly came out of Ser Harrold's cape and rough fully grabbed his arm.
"Thank you!" She nearly screamed in relief. "You're the best, Jon!"
His cousin's joyful energy was contagious enough to make him smile and brighten his mood, Alicent looked more worried than Rhaenyra, but chose to keep her mouth shut to look in wonder at her prince and princess' complicity. Needless to say that the daughter of Crown Prince Viserys and Princess Aemma was not what she expected.
Jon's relationship with Rhaenyra had evolved quickly since the young girl's fourth nameday. Since she had been able to walk and talk properly, she had started to follow Jon everywhere he went, and often pestered him to teach her how to fight and tell her stories that neither her handmaidens nor her mother would tell her. Something that had reminded Jaehaerys of Baelon and Alyssa. She reminded Jon so much of Arya that the black haired prince felt a pang in his heart every time he saw her hopeful eyes filled with wild energy. He had managed to avoid training her, under the excuse that he would be a poor teacher since he wasn't a fighter yet. However, and despite his tight schedule, he managed as best as he could to find some time to spend with the closest sister-figure he had, if only for the pleasure to see the look of admiration and love in her eyes.
Jon loved Rhaenyra like he had loved Arya before her, something that always made him feel guilty whenever he thought about his Stark sister. For she could never be replaced in his heart.
Without warning he caught his cousin in a hug and held her against him, despite her surprise, she fully returned his hug.
That brought a smile to Alicent's and Ser Harrold's face.
"Rhaenyra…" Jon sighed. " You cannot simply run away from the Septa's lessons…"
"Why not? She's stupid!"
Jon knew his next words needed to be well chosen, fortunately, he knew his cousin like the back of his hand.
"Because you are a princess of House Targaryen, and a Princess of House Targaryen does not run away. If you have a problem with your septa, ask for a new one. I would back you up."
Rhaenyra's smile grew brighter and her hold around her cousin grew tighter.
"Thanks Jon."
"Anytime, now, I believe you haven't properly introduced yourself to the lady Alicent Hightower here."
The princess immediately let go of his cousin and turned her bright smile towards the young lady of the Reach.
"Hi, I'm Rhaenyra."
"It is an honor to meet you, Princess." Alicent bowed while showing a smile of her own. "I must say, you are very different from what I expected."
"According to her mother, this is all my fault."
All heads turned to see Daemon leaning against the wall, wearing an amused grin.
"My Prince." Ser Harrold bowed.
"My Prince." Alicent did the same.
"Hello everyone." Daemon replied before turning towards his son. "Jaehaeron, your great-grandfather requests your presence."
The black haired prince simply nodded, but Rhaenyra let out a loud groan.
"But great-grandfather always asks for Jon!" She complained. "I want Jon to spend time with me too!"
"Rhaenyra…" Jon sighed. "Great-grandfather is old, he doesn't have much time left and he is the King."
The Princess wasn't satisfied and crossed her arms with a pout.
"Shouldn't you be with your septa at this hour?" Daemon remarked.
"I don't want to; she said stupid things about Jon's mother. I don't like her."
In a blink, the temperature dropped by dozens of degrees, the Rogue Prince's eyes turned cold and furious.
"What did she say?" He calmly asked his son despite his obvious fury that terrified Alicent.
Jon sighed.
"She said that because Mother did not follow the Seven, she died prematurely."
"See? She's an idiot." Rhaenyra declared proudly, ignoring her uncle's look completely.
"That she is." The latter approved. "And she is going to have to answer for her stupidity. Ser Harrold? Take my son and my niece to the King while I go talk with my brother."
"Yes my prince, but what about the young lady Hightower here?"
When Daemon heard Alicent's last name, he stared at her with a very suspicious look that made the little girl as uncomfortable as terrified. Fortunately for her, Jon quickly wrapped her arm around his.
"I'll introduce her to our King," he declared, "I promised to show her around the library, it would be rude of me to abandon her without an escort."
Daemon raised an eyebrow as Alicent's face grew redder and redder. Feeling left out, Rhaenyra immediately grabbed Jon's second arm and held him close.
His son's embarrassed face and the funny situation he had found himself in were enough to cool down the Rogue Prince's temper a little. Though it would not last.
"Then you three should hurry up, you do not keep a Targaryen King waiting."
Ser Harrold and Alicent bowed while Rhaenyra and Jon simply nodded, the trio then went up to the King's chamber under the amused eyes of Daemon, who could not hold back a chuckle when he saw his boy's clumsy gait as he tried not to step on one of the girls' dress. Even with women, Jaehaeron was his father's greatest pride.