Jon slumped against the wall of the dragon's den, breathing hard. His hair was a mess and his riding garments were loosely hanging off his body. He briefly wondered how he was going to stay warm when they were in the ice and snow, soaring through the air towards the armies of the undead.
It had been a week since Robb had set sail for King's Landing, and every day since, Jon and Daenerys had been taking Drogon and Rhaegal out to fly. It had been, to a word, one of the hardest things Jon had ever had to do.
Riding a horse was one thing, but riding a dragon was a hundred times harder. If Jon wasn't careful, he would be picked up by the wind and sent hurtling through the air towards the ocean and certain death. There was also the task of commanding the dragon. Daenerys had told him that it would take a while before he and Rhaegal had developed a strong enough bond where he wouldn't need to use commands, the dragon would already know what he wanted to do. The silver-haired beauty had even admitted that she was still working on such a bond with Drogon.
The commands were all in High Valyrian, a language that Jon had never used before. Daenerys and he spent hours alone in the Chamber of the Painted Table as she helped him memorize the words and phrases he would need to use and how to properly articulate them.
Any time Jon didn't spend with Daenerys or Rhaegal was spent either sleeping, eating, or taking out his frustration in the practice yard with Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, or Grey Worm. Even though Jon had resigned to the fact that he would be fighting the undead from atop a dragon, he still wanted to keep his skill at their peak, and fighting the three warriors provided a chance for him to take any out frustration, as Ser Jorah said, a 'healthy' way.
"You seem tired?" Daenerys said, walking up to him.
The Lady of Dragonstone wore breeches under a long tunic. Both were black and dark red colors that contrasted well with her flawless skin and hair. During their time together traveling from Winterfell to Dragonstone, the look in her violet eyes had changed from suspicion to pity as she began to realize what she was making Jon do. Now, there was amusement in them as well, like she was secretly laughing at Jon's discomfort as he tried to move past the awkwardness of riding a dragon.
Jon shook his head tiredly. "Not in the slightest," he joked. "Just sat down to wait for you."
Daenerys crossed her arms and cocked one eyebrow, gazing at Jon skeptically, before she dropped the look and smiled, sitting down next to Jon. It wasn't lost on the northman that Daenerys was slowly warming up to him, and if he was being honest with himself, he was doing the same to her. He found her to be caring and kind, especially to all those who served her and was very passionate about ensuring that those under her protection were cared for. She was also surprisingly witty and had Jon's normally serious mask breaking up with smiles many times during their lessons.
"You're very different from Robb, you know," Daenerys said suddenly, staring up at the clear blue sky.
Jon nodded. "I know."
"But you're also the same in many aspects." Daenerys continued. "You're both stubborn and have little patience."
"Little patience?" Jon scoffed. "Robb and I would call it 'acting'."
Daenerys's smile grew slightly. "You both also want to help people. You proved that when you left your family in Winterfell to come here with me."
"Some would say that I left one family for another," Jon said softly, looking at Daenerys.
The lady of Dragonstone looked a little surprised. "I was under the impression that you didn't acknowledge your Targaryen blood?"
Jon hesitated for a moment before shrugging. "You're slowly changing my mind," he admitted. "Slowly."
Daenerys grinned. "I should have also mentioned that you're both not as stubborn as you pretend to be."
"We can be rational when we want," Jon said jokingly. "May I ask you something?"
"Of course," Daenerys answered, hearing the change in Jon's tone.
"What is the real reason I'm here?" he asked. "It's more than the Long Night."
Daenerys nodded slowly. "After the Battle of King's Landing and your brother allowed the dragons to come here, they fell into a depression."
"Can dragons do that?" Jon asked curiously.
Daenerys gave Jon an annoyed look. "It took me longer than I care to admit to realize why. I thought it was because of Viserion's death, but that never explained why Rhaegal never flew to the east during the battle."
"That was because of me, it seems," Jon grunted. "Robb and I spoke about it after the battle. He found me looking at them as they slept in the godswood."
"What more did you speak about?" Daenerys asked. She had never heard that Robb or Jon had visited her children while she had been under guard in her room.
"Robb was convinced that riding Rhaegal was my birthright," Jon explained. "I rejected the idea and the matter was dropped. I'm surprised he wasn't smugger when we arrived."
Daenerys considered Jon's words carefully. "If word had reached me at that time that there was another Targaryen, one who could ride my dragons, I would have seen it as a ploy or a scheme."
Jon smirked. "That's exactly what I told Robb when he asked if I wanted to speak to you. I didn't think you would believe me."
"I wouldn't." Daenerys agreed.
"So how did you figure out that I was alive?" Jon asked. "Just the simple fact of Rhaegal refusing to fly east during the battle wouldn't have convinced you that there was another with Targaryen blood."
"Lord Stark, your chosen father, found me after the battle and told me the true story behind the rebellion," Daenerys answered. "He never told me your name, where you were, or even your gender. he did say that there was a child that had been sired by my brother and his sister. It took me a long time to realize that you could have been at the battle. It also explained why Rhaegal had been so interested in Robb when I first introduced him to my children."
"He told me the same." Jon nodded. "So you knew that I was alive, but not my name nor where I was."
Daenerys gestured towards the ocean. "Ser Barristan and I found an image of the Others fighting the First Men and the Children of the Forest in a cave along the shore. My maester found no mention of it in the library and so we brought it to King's Landing where the Grand Maester took a look at it."
"Sam was a good person to go to," Jon said.
"You know him?"
Jon nodded. "He and I were at the Wall together when the war broke out. His father had sent him there in exile and when I decided to leave and join Robb, he came with me. As you know by now, he's not a particularly aggressive man. He loves reading and history and knew that his path led him towards the Citadel."
"You speak of him with the same love as your brother," Daenerys noted.
Jon smiled slightly. "Sam was the first friend I ever had outside my family. He didn't care that I was a bastard. He's truly a very good man."
Daenerys was slightly surprised by Jon's passionate praise for the fat maester, but she continued on with her story.
"As I was saying, Sam looked into his own library and found some traces of the Long Night. He was the first to say that my dragons would be our advantage over the Others." Daenerys explained. "When I had the chance, I looked for a second opinion with the Green Man, Bryn Highsmith. He was the one who told me that I should search for you. He was also the one who pointed me towards Robb and Lord Eddard."
"I presume you then sailed north with Robb, spoke with my father who told you about me, and then you rode to Winterfell to see me in person," Jon said, summarizing the rest of Daenerys trip. "At least all of that wasn't in vain."
Daenerys looked north. "We shall have to see."
Jon understood the grim undertone. "Aye, that's true."
Robb Stark
Robb walked around the armor, admiring it. Although he would always feel the most comfortable in plaited-leather and grey steel plate, he couldn't help but love the fearsome appearance of the scale armor that looked like a suit of dragon scales. The smokey color that rippled across the steel marked it as valyrian steel.
Lord Mallister stood proudly off to the side, accompanied by the smith who had confirmed the armor to indeed be made of valyrian steel, Tobho Mott. Brienne was present, even though Ser Rolland and Ser Garth were both currently protecting Robb.
Tobho was the undisputed master smith in the entirety of King's Landing, if not all of Westeros. After being trained in Qohor, he set up shop in King's Landing where a number of high-ranking nobles became his customers. Besides his ability to color steel without the use of paint, he also claims to be one of the few armorers who know the secrets of Valryian Steel and how to work it.
Master Mott's looks did not exactly live up to his reputation as a smith, but Robb didn't know any smiths who were renowned for their appearances. The man was older, probably in his fifth or sixth decade, with a shaven head and a roughly trimmed white beard that still had a few streaks of blonde remaining. Sinewy muscle after years in the forge made its way from his shoulders, down his arms, and into his scared and burned hands. He had a slight squint in his eyes, which Robb assumed the man had developed after years of putting fine, pain-staking detail on his armor.
"It's the only one of its kind in existence, you say." Robb mused, coming to a stop in front of the armor.
Master Mott nodded. "I would say so, your grace. I have heard of many swords and daggers, as well as an axe owned by House Celtigar, but I have never heard any rumors of armor. I'm sure I don't need to tell you how rare it is."
Robb nodded. He knew that it was impossible to create Valyrian Steel. It had been the work of valyrian magic combined with dragonfire and although dragons had made a recent revival, the magic that had been imbued in the famous steel had been lost in the Doom of Valyria.
"I'm aware," Robb replied. "Lord Mallister, is there a reason Commander Brienne is here as well?"
"There is, sire." the Lord of Seaguard said. "When I showed this armor to the council, there was an idea put forth that it could be melted down and forged into swords for others in your kingsguard."
"Master Mott, how many swords can be made with this armor?" Robb asked.
Mott took a moment to assess the armor before answering. "I could make three longswords, your grace, possibly four."
Robb turned to his commander. "Brienne, you are their leader. What say you?"
Brienne squared her shoulders, a habit of hers whenever she was answering an important question or making an important decision.
"Your Grace, I think I speak for the others when I say that you should wear this armor instead of having it melted down," she said firmly.
Robb raised an eyebrow. "Is that right?"
Brienne nodded. "You are the king and as such, you are the most important person in all of Westeros, meaning your protection is of the utmost importance. A shirt of valyrian steel is protection that not even your sworn seven can provide."
Robb looked at Garth and Rolland. "Do you feel the same, sers?"
Garth nodded. "We do, your grace. The seven of us have already spoken about this. Ser Loras was the first to bring it to the commander's attention."
"It's armor fit for a king." Ser Rolland added. "Only a king should wear it. A second line of defense should our strength fail and our souls join the gods."
"Very well," Robb said. "Thank you for your generous gift, Lord Mallister. If there is a way for me to repay, please let me know."
Lord Mallister shook his head. "No repayment is necessary, sire. As Commander Brienne said, your protection should be first and foremost."
Robb smiled. "My wife would be very proud of you all," he said, getting a small laugh from the others in the room. "Master Mott, may I speak with you for a moment?"
The master smith simply bowed as Lord Mallister and Brienne left the room, leaving Robb and Mott alone save for the two kingsguard. After a long moment, Mott broke the silence.
"Is there something you need, sire?"
Robb shook his head. "An answer is all I require. I believe you know of a boy named Gendry."
Mott raised an eyebrow and nodded. "He was once my apprentice before he left to join the Night's Watch. A good smith with much potential."
"He left to join the Night's Watch?" Robb asked. "He told me that you ordered him to seek out Yoren. That you sent him away."
The master smith began to sweat a little as his eyes widened. Robb quickly patted the man on the shoulder and led him over to the slitted window that looked out over the ocean.
"Don't worry, Master Mott. I have no intention of crucifying you." Robb said easily. "I'm sure you know of the boy's true identity. That he was the natural son of Robert Baratheon."
"I was," Mott answered carefully.
"And you must've grown suspicious that both Jon Arryn and my father sought the boy out." Robb continued, more for the smith's benefit than his own. "When my father was imprisoned by Cersei Lannister and you sent the boy away, I'm sure you were only acting in the interest of his safety."
"Of course, your grace." Master Mott said quickly. "He's a good lad and I didn't want to see him hurt…."
"Quite so," Robb said calmly. "Well, by your actions, Gendry has been acknowledged as Robert Baratheon's son and has been legitimized as a Baratheon."
"That is great to hear, sire," Mott said happily.
"As his former master, I thought I would let you know," Robb said. "Now, to my question: Who paid you to take the boy into your service?"
"Paid, your grace?"
"Master Mott, you are the foremost armorer in all of the city, if not the realm," Robb said seriously. "This may be our first time meeting, but forgive me if I am in disbelief that you just randomly picked out a boy to train and that boy happened to be the bastard of Robert Baratheon."
Master Mott's eyes flitted around the room before coming back to Robb. When he spoke, the volume of his voice was much quieter than before.
"Your father asked the same question, my lord. I told him that a stout, brown-bearded man paid me to take the boy. I know not his identity, but he did wear a hooded cloak of velvet."
"A stout bearded man," Robb muttered curiously. "How interesting."
"That is all the information I have, your grace, truly," Mott said.
"I believe you," Robb said reassuringly. "Thank you for your time, master smith. Perhaps one day I shall ask you to make a set of armor for my son."
Master Mott bowed deeply a look of relief coming over his face as he realized that he was no longer in danger.
"I once told your father that I could fashion him a direwolf helm so real that children would flee from him in the streets. Perhaps your son shall one day wear such a piece."
"If he does and it comes from you, then I shall know that it is of the highest quality." Robb praised. "Good day, Master Mott. Return safely to your forge with your king's gratitude."
Mott bowed deeply once again before leaving the room. Robb watched the man leave before taking one last look out the window and leaving the room himself. He wanted to know why someone paid to make Gendry Mott's assistant, and there were two men who could give him an answer.
Alec Reed and Tyrion Lannister.
Line Break
"I must admit, your grace, that the only man who comes to mind is Varys," Tyrion said.
The Hand, the king, and the Master of Whispers all sat alone in the Small Council chambers where Robb had just finished telling them both of his conversation with Tobho Mott. Tyrion's answer came after a long moment of silence where all three men were deep in thought.
"Those were my thoughts as well," Robb grumbled. "But that does not explain his actions."
"Your Grace, I can sadly say that I worked closely with Varys while I served Joffrey," Tyrion said. "You could employ a great thinker to consider Varys's actions and it would be decades before he understood them."
Reed raised his finger. "There is, perhaps, an answer. Varys was undoubtedly aware of the true parentage of Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen, was he not?"
"I would be very surprised if he wasn't," Tyrion responded. "Forgive me, your grace, but the actions taken by your father, Jon Arryn, and Stannis Baratheon would have brought much attention to Gendry. Littlefinger, Varys, and my sister all were smart enough to make the connection if they hadn't already."
"What do you think is the answer?" Robb asked Alec.
"Varys wanted a war," Reed said simply. "Gendy would have been the perfect piece of evidence to start anyone on the path that led to the revelation that Cersei's children were not sired by Robert. Many have said that the boy looked exactly like Robert."
"War would keep the realm distracted long enough for Varys to help Daenerys Targaryen gain an army and would weaken any who opposed her when she sailed from Essos to reclaim the Iron Throne," Tyrion said, clearly having made a connection. "A war between Houses Baratheon, Stark, and Lannister would have been the bloodbath Varys wanted. He was also smart enough to know that the Riverlands and the Vale would also be drawn in due to their connection to House Stark."
"His plan worked to perfection then," Robb said. "The War of Five Kings."
"Almost, your grace," Tyrion said with a smirk. "The Spider's plot was foiled by you and your marriage to Margaery Tyrell. You united five realms under a single banner and created an opposition that was too strong for Daenerys Targaryen to defeat. You were the one piece in the game that Varys had not planned for."
"I'm sure there's a compliment in that," Robb said slowly. "Is there no other explanation?"
"None that would make sense, sire," Reed said. "War is chaos, your grace, and Varys wanted Daenerys Targaryen to slip in and take the throne during the fighting so that she could be the stability and peace the Spider wanted so dearly."
"But you did so instead," Tyrion said happily. "I have to admit, your grace, it gives me great satisfaction knowing that you foiled the eunuch's plot."
"I'm sure." Robb deadpanned, getting up from his chair. "Thank you, both of you, for your help."
"We're always ready to serve, your grace," Reed said, bowing his head.
"Is there anything else you need?" Tyrion asked.
Robb frowned slightly. "The time is nearing when I must summon the realm to war. I want you both to report anything you hear. Twice now, those who follow the Faith of the Seven have interrupted our plans. It cannot be allowed to happen again."
"We will be vigilant, sire," Tyrion promised. "If I may, what will you do to those who refused to follow you north?"
Robb's blue eyes hardened and both Tyrion and Alec Reed were reminded of Robb's northern heritage in that one look.
"I'll do what I must to protect the realm," Robb said grimly before leaving the room.