Jon had indeed flown solo to the Driftmark. He hadn't asked Dany along because it was not a mere social call to his foster grandmother. He had scheduled a secret meeting with Lord Varys as well. Besides he could do without her distracting presence for a while. It would free up some of his energy to concentrate on the matters he wanted to discuss with Varys.
Every night he went to bed drained by the effort of keeping up the pretence of just being her friend and considerate next of kin. Every morning he attended a gruelling training session to tire himself out physically in an effort to keep his body from reacting too enthusiastically when Dany greeted him at lunch where they usually saw each other for the first time. He didn't know how long he could keep up with this.
The only upside was that he was exhausted in the evenings and slept very deep. He didn't remember any dreams come morning. He could also feel the muscles in his arms and legs grow thicker and stronger. Ser Gerold was once more proving his worth. The routines he put Jon through were varied enough to keep him motivated and at the same time garnered the wanted results. This morning was the first day that he had skipped his morning training to spend the entire day at the Driftmark.
He had postponed telling her about this short trip because he hated to disappoint her should she ask to come along. He had intended to say goodbye to her moments before he left but Ser Barristan had been the only one who had answered his request for her presence when he came out to the cliff to inform him that the Princess had slept later than usual. Jon doubted that was the case though since Ser Barristan had avoided his questioning look. He had flown off casting a look in the direction of her windows but hadn't been able to discern if she was watching him fly away.
He worried that she would be as isolated on Dragonstone as she had been on Pentos when he left to fight the dead beyond the Wall. Her Septa didn't seem like the most entertaining companion. She looked more like a religious ornament to the room than a real flesh and blood person. The few times Jon had seen her, she had hardly spoken five words to him beyond the formal greeting. A neutral mask seemed plastered on her face at all times. Jon hesitated to interfere in that part of Dany's life though. Once more he cursed the fact that his upbringing had been predominantly in male company. It had not given him enough insight in a noble woman's daily life and needs.
He left his dragons at the cave where they had spent several years and enjoyed the long walk to the settlement. The weather was nice although the wind blew rather strong from the east. He had his dark hair pulled into a knot to keep the wind from blowing his curls in his face. By the time he neared the settlement, his mind was relaxed and he felt ready to tackle the tasks he had set himself for today.
He greeted Jekken when he passed the little workshop. The man dropped what he was doing to make a low bow to Jon.
"My Prince," he murmured reverently.
Jon hid his sigh from Jekken. The news of his new status as ruling Prince of Dragonstone was common knowledge at the Driftmark. His dragonride with Dany almost two sennight before had only confirmed what they had found out as soon as Ser Gerold and his forces had landed at the Driftmark before making their move on Dragonstone. Many had suspected for years that he was not just friendly Jon Celtigar growing up amongst them.
"Good morning, Jekken. How is business these days?" He tried to deal with the man as he had always done before.
"Better than ever, my Prince! People from Dragonstone are coming here to visit the settlement where their Prince grew up and trained his dragons. I have been making small souvenirs."
The man pointed at metal images of dragons. A few of them even had a tiny rider on them.
Jon touched one with his fingers that looked remarkably like Rhaegal. He frowned but softened his features when he saw the blacksmith's apprehensive look in response to his reaction.
"I hope you approve, my Prince. Have I displeased you? I admit that I boasted you were a regular customer and almost a friend. But I meant no harm. I do not charge much more than what it costs to make them and I ask them not to show these figurines to anyone on the mainland before, uh, you know." The man was wringing his hands now, clearly frightened that he had overstepped.
"Please do not worry, Jekken. You did nothing wrong. Not if you sell to people from Dragonstone. That is not the reason I was frowning. I was just wondering how you got the metal to get that greenish hue." Jon explained giving him a reassuring look.
"I made them using a metal called bronze. It is not as strong as the metal I use to create weapons and I stopped making household tools with it because these can turn green when exposed to moist environments and us being on an island, well, uh, you know."
The man was clearly not used to making long speeches. He handed a bronze miniature version of Rhaegal to his Prince and looked at him with pleading eyes. "This is the first real profit I have been able to make from that material in ages, my Prince. People are delighted by the green colour of these little objects now instead of complaining and asking their coin back when a cup turns green."
"Well, then I can only congratulate you on coming up with this idea. How much do you charge for this one? I want to buy it as a present for the Princess Daenerys." Jon smiled attempting once more to soothe the man's nerves.
"Lovely lady, if I am allowed to say so, my Prince. I saw her when you flew low over the beach the other day. She has the Valyrian look all right. Are her eyes purple as well? You were still too high up so I couldn't tell." The blacksmith's face had lightened up the moment he heard Jon mention the Princess.
"They are, Jekken. They are the most beautiful purple eyes I have ever seen." He hoped he wasn't blushing when he realised what he had just told the blacksmith. He cleared his throat. "How much do I owe you, Jekken?"
"Oh no, my Prince. No charge for you. Just give the Princess my compliments and tell her that we all would like for her to come visit us when things settle down."
The blacksmith took the trinket from Jon' hands and wrapped it in a piece of cloth. "Here you go, my Prince."
"Then I thank you very much. I will bring her one day. And I promise to introduce you to her so you can show her around in your shop. I must leave you now though. My foster grandmother will be expecting me." Jon put the small package in his pocket and left a very happy blacksmith who watched his Prince walk with determined strides to the small building.
'The most beautiful purple eyes', the man thought, 'Targaryens really have a thing for one another.'
***
The visits with his foster grandmother always went almost identically to the previous ones. She would greet him warmly and enquire after his health. Then they would share a simple meal and afterwards she would ask if he was King already and if not when he planned to be. This time she was fairly satisfied when he told her he was making progress and was officially inaugurated as Prince of Dragonstone.
Her next question inevitably was whether he was finally betrothed. A negative answer always made her enquire after the lovely Princess Daenerys and if she had found another husband yet because her blind oaf of a grandson couldn't make up his mind. He always distracted her at that point by reaching for her box with letters and the rest of the visit he read out loud to her, mostly from a selection of Wylla's letters. After all these years, his former wet nurse still wrote faithfully to her.
This time she requested him to read some of his own letters out loud to her. Letters he had written when he was still rather young from his first years at Greywater Watch. Jon was a bit embarrassed to read the childish things he had written back then although some brought back some half-forgotten happy memories of his childhood. Besides he didn't mind doing her that favour knowing full well her deteriorating eyesight made it impossible to read them herself and the elderly widow that kept her company in the afternoons wasn't allowed to touch the cherished letters of her grandson.
They spent half of the day together and had a lovely time reminiscing. Once more she declined when he asked her if she wanted to visit Dragonstone or even wished to live there with him now. "You don't move an old tree either," she had answered her mind firmly made up.
***
He walked the small distance to the tavern where Varys would probably already be waiting for him. The visit to his grandmother had lasted a little longer than originally planned. When he turned the corner and spotted the town square, he stopped in his tracks. It seemed the entire settlement and everyone else they had been able to reach in time had gathered there to catch a glimpse of their very own Prince.
Jon smiled shyly, a bit at a loss for how to deal with this situation. Then he saw the owner of the tavern hurrying over to him.
"My Prince," the man bowed low. "I placed my wagon right over there. If you climb on it everyone will be able to see you a bit better. Think of the smaller children standing at the back of the crowd. Perhaps you would be willing to oblige us with a small speech?"
Jon thanked the man and asked him to inform his guest that he would be somewhat delayed. It would indeed be ungrateful to leave these people without giving them a bit of his attention.
"Do not worry, my Prince. He knows. The entire settlement has been alerted to your presence. We all helped Jekken spread the word so we could give you the welcome you are due. Your guest helped as well. Apparently he has several contacts here at our small island."
When Jon didn't offer an immediate reply the man was happy enough to continue his servile ramblings. "A most curious fellow, I must tell you. He didn't offer his name but I think I know who he is, my Prince. Just as we have always had strong suspicions that you were more than a simple Lord, if you excuse my saying so, my Prince." The man made another low bow.
Jon had willed himself to stay patient and hear the man out but was glad he finally left after receiving a benign nod from 'his Prince'. A moon and a half earlier he had spoken to a lot of the locals when he stayed here for two days to pick up the dragonglass. But just as he had noticed on Dragonstone, the fact that he was now officially the ruling Prince of Dragonstone and had been confirmed as the trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar and rightful heir to the Iron Throne made an enormous difference to his loyal following on these two islands.
Jon wasted no more time and climbed the wagon. The crowd cheered loudly when he took the time to wave and smile in every direction. He made a short speech thanking them for accepting him in their midst during his younger years. He would never forget the kindness they had shown simple Jon Celtigar. He repeated that the Driftmark would always feel a little bit like home to him and vowed to always keep their interests at heart.
As expected, loud cheers erupted once more. When he was sure they had calmed down enough to hear him once more he promised to visit with Princess Daenerys at his side somewhere in the near future. As soon as he had finished, his short speech was received with even more benevolence and genuine warmth than the one he had held in the throne room of Dragonstone. The cheers and well wishes from the crowd didn't let up.
Not wanting to make Lord Varys wait any longer than necessary, Jon decided to climb off the wagon. He was glad that the crowd respected his personal space and only a few children approached him to hand him some hastily fashioned drawing or a modest bouquet of wildflowers. He accepted all the offerings thanking them warmly, waved with the hand holding the flowers one last time and quickly entered the tavern where the owner intercepted him in the doorway.
Instead of leading him to the large public room, the man opened a door to his left that led to a small space. Jon figured it was a private room used as a kind of study where the owner kept his business papers. It contained a desk a cupboard and two chairs near a tiny fire place. One chair was already occupied when Jon entered and ordered a pint of ale for himself and a refill for his guest. He put the small bouquet of flowers and the few drawings on the small desk. Only then did he bestow his attention upon the Master of Whisperers.
Both men had to adjust their mental image of the other. Jon had not expected the man who had secretly but very efficiently supported him all these years to look so effeminate. The man wore rich silks and velvets, soft colourful slippers adorned his feet and he smelled like a woman. He hid his surprise by immediately offering a greeting. "Well met, Lord Varys."
"My King," his guest bowed, "I would kneel but am afraid I wouldn't be able to get up without embarrassing myself and needing assistance. Please do not doubt that I am your most devoted subject."
"I thank you, Lord Varys. Uncle Ned repeatedly told me as much. I also read the reports you regularly sent to me. I can only begin to imagine how much time and effort you have put into hiding my existence from the Baratheon King and his allies. I do not doubt your loyalty. I am very grateful to have your support and hope that I may continue to count on it for many years to come. Our meeting has been long overdue. It is my honour to finally make your acquaintance, my Lord."
"I can only echo your last words, my King. I was honoured to receive your request for this meeting. A highly necessary one, I might add. You are wise beyond your years, my young King."
They halted their conversation when the owner himself entered the small room with a large pint of ale for Jon and pitcher of wine to refill Varys' cup at his own leisure. He put everything on a small stool that he had brought along with him to act as a makeshift table.
"I hope the ale will be to your liking, my Prince." The man bowed when Jon nodded his thanks and left the room closing the door once more behind him.
Jon held his pint in the air to make a silent toast. Lord Varys mimicked his gesture and both men drank deeply.
"Giving a speech can be thirsty work, my King. It was a wonderful experience to witness your popularity with my own eyes." He put his cup next to Jon's large pint.
Jon studied Lord Varys a small wrinkle appearing on his forehead. "I am glad you agreed to meet me on such short notice, but I didn't ask for you to come all this way just to have another person flatter me, Lord Varys. I have asked you here to hear your uncensored reports and advice. I want a realistic appraisal of the political situation in King's Landing and news from the rest of the realm as well if you have the necessary intelligence. Written reports are always kept concise. Words need to be carefully considered and do not offer one the opportunity to exchange unfinished ideas or statements. I figured talking face to face would help both of us obtain a fresh perspective. Besides, it is easier to understand what a person is trying to convey if you know of his disposition, his personality."
"My King?"
"I'm sorry if I am not expressing myself clearly. Perhaps an example might work. If Sandor Clegane tells me there is a fucking issue but I do not need to move my nice ass because he will fucking deal with it, I know the matter needs no further thought. The reason for that is that I trust his outspokenness. He will not spare me and tell me to my face without hesitation or restraint that I need to deal with something or that I 'fucked' up. He only does that if that is really the case. Please excuse me for the crude language."
"No apology needed, my King. Please continue."
"If Ser Davos comes to me and tells me respectfully there is a small issue that he hesitates to trouble me with, I immediately become worried. From him that means that there is something rather important going on and he has to admit he isn't sure his solution will be efficient enough and the issue will require my full attention belying the initial impression that his words would give someone who isn't familiar with Ser Davos' turn of phrase."
"I see, my King. And now you want to study me to find out if I am truthful when I flatter you or what I mean exactly when I use terms such as minor issue, a standard problem or a major disaster?"
"Kind of. As Master of Whispers you are certainly aware that written words reveal less than spoken ones. A person's tone of voice, his entire demeanour can be very revealing."
Jon paused and cocked his head a little, a twinkle in his eyes. "Although in your case, I have been warned that you use a sing song voice and act somewhat obsequious to hide the true meaning behind your words and deeds."
"I try to confuse my enemies, my King. I hope I will never have to use these tricks on you." Varys answered staying very serious.
"If ever you think you need to, I want you to contact me and voice your concerns. I have the welfare of the people in mind, just as you do. I have revealed enough of my ambitions to make you understand that our interests are aligned. But just as Sandor Clegane does, I expect you to call me on it if you ever think I am losing sight of our goals."
"A most commendable attitude, my King."
"I thought I already asked you to refrain from flattering me, Lord Varys. And please, call me 'my Prince' if you insist on using a title to address me. I am no King yet. For now I am just the Prince of Dragonstone."
"Then I'll keep my thoughts on your excellent worth to myself for now, my Prince." Varys obliged the young man who was so different to what he had expected. "Still it needs to be said that I admire your strategy, your goals and certainly your caution and restraint. But no more on that subject, I am glad you summoned me. It is long overdue we had this talk. I wished to talk to the man in charge very badly. I need to establish once and for all how I am allowed to comport myself when dealing with the Hand of King Robert."
Jon's frown made Varys pause. Jon had to urge him on. "Please continue Lord Varys. I am interested to hear what your issue with my uncle is exactly."
"At King Robert's court Lord Stark is my superior and I need to defer to him in all matters. It is different when we are advancing your cause. He and I are equals in our dealings then and second to you. I already have had to intervene when Lord Stark makes, or is about to make mistakes. I wanted to get your 'stamp of approval' shall we say to go against your uncle going as far as to sabotage him openly or behind his back if necessary."
Jon didn't reply immediately. He sometimes struggled to find the right balance when dealing with his uncle as well. The man was honourable, a good leader but sometimes his strict code of conduct blinded him to the harsh reality and possible dangerous consequences when faced with opponents that did not adhere to the same noble standards. He had a great admiration for Lord Stark however and owed him his life, his current position and the bulk of his assets.
He masked the fact that he was searching for words by sipping from his ale. He lowered his pint and looked at Lord Varys. "I have the greatest respect for my uncle. He is honourable to a fault and means well. His honour however compels him to think and act a bit too rigid at times and he might overlook the long term effects of his actions."
He put the large cup on the makeshift table and leaned a bit closer to Lord Varys to lend extra meaning to his words. "Everyone needs help or a guiding hand to look at all the angles, to keep the right perspective of things, Lord Varys. I myself must admit that I greatly miss my Hand and some other loyal advisers that are not on Dragonstone right now."
Jon sighed, sat back and thought of how much he wanted to talk to Davos and Uncle Benjen about his dilemma with Dany. He needed their fatherly advice more than hearing about the political repercussions of the matter. He startled when a discreet cough of Lord Varys brought him back to the present.
"My apologies, Lord Varys. My thoughts were on a matter I need to discuss with Davos Seaworth who is currently unavailable being at sea for a few sennights. To get back to the subject of my uncle, might I ask you to bear in mind that Lord Stark has been thrown into a strange environment and is dealing with it as best as he can. He needs reliable advisers to help him. I trust you to strike the right balance and advise Lord Stark as much as possible."
Jon's tone was resolute when he granted the requested authority to Varys. "If he ignores you, is about to make a major mistake and there is no time to confer with me, of course I trust you to handle it and even 'sabotage' him, but always try to do so with respect and explain to my uncle why you did it when the opportunity presents itself."
Jon noticed Vary's small nod of acknowledgement and suddenly felt the urge to defend his uncle some more. "Lord Stark is not an unreasonable man. I have experienced firsthand how he was able to admit a mistake to a boy less than half his age and rectified his behaviour on the spot. My uncle is a good man and will always try to do what is right. It is our job to make him see what is right and what hurts our cause." He added diplomatically.
"I repeat once more, Lord Varys, even though I have only met you in person today, years of witnessing the positive results of your help be it by stopping or manipulating rumours or thwarting our enemies, have made me trust you implicitly."
Lord Varys bowed his head in thanks. "And I vow here and now never to betray your trust, my Prince, my future King. I will count the days until I am allowed to call you 'my King', or 'your Grace'."
"Thank you. Aside from the topic we discussed, I trust my uncle is well?"
"Lord Stark is well enough. He envied my coming here. He would very much like to see you again. Oh, before I forget, he asked me to give you the sapling of a weirwood tree he brought from Winterfell at your request. It is still at the docks. It will be loaded on a small fishing boat that is scheduled to leave for Dragonstone tomorrow at first light."
"Thank you, Lord Varys. That is welcome news. I miss the quiet sanctuary of a Godswood." He quickly staved off Lord Varys' remark by adding, "Don't worry, I am well acquainted with the Seven Pointed Star and will respect its followers and take an active part in all necessary ceremonies expected of me if I become the King of the Seven Kingdoms." The faintest of smiles came to Jon's lips.
"When, my Prince. When not if." Lord Varys replied with a ghost of a smile of his own.
Jon bowed his head demurely in acknowledgment of that statement. "I believe we were on the subject of my uncle though? You were about to tell me how he was doing?"
"That is correct, my Prince. Forgive me for getting off topic. For now our Lord Hand is doing his best to keep King Robert distracted with minor matters. Normal life in the capital has resumed now that all the turmoil that Littlefinger's trial and execution have caused is behind us. When the smallfolk get excited, somehow bar fights and riots in the street become more frequent and more violent. But the King still insisted on staging a big show on the steps before the Sept of Bailor."
"The execution went smoothly? I mean uh" Jon stammered not wanting Lord Varys to think he was greedily asking for a bloody tale. "What I meant to ask was if he didn't cause another scandal when he was given the opportunity to speak his last words?"
Lord Varys didn't react to the slight discomfort of the young Prince and answered as sedate as was he wont. "I understand your question. Your uncle and I had the very same concern, my Prince. In the end, I must concede that Petyr Baelish met his fate with dignity. When he was offered the chance to speak some last words, he uttered a prayer for his soul and his legacy. No bitter outburst, nor shrieks about dragons. We we're all relieved when that moment had come and gone."
Jon nodded and mentally classified that issue as handled for good. His mind was already sorting through his other issues. Varys' presence here was proof that Uncle Ned was not that far away. Perhaps he could find an opportunity to discuss Edric's wishes with his uncle in person. He spoke up. "Do you think it might be possible that I visit the capital incognito as Lord Celtigar and meet with my uncle somewhere out of sight? There is a rather personal matter I want to discuss with him and I could use that opportunity to talk to him about his dealings with King Robert myself."
"I do not think that is wise, my Prince. Anyone who sees you and Lord Stark together might get suspicious. And now that I see how much you resemble your uncle, I understand the existence of these rumours a bit better. Lord Baelish's words at his trial about the dragonrider being a son of Brandon Stark have not been forgotten. If you really want to talk to your uncle, perhaps we should let the Hand of the King make a small trip? I do not know how soon this can be arranged without making anyone suspicious though."
Jon was already rethinking the matter and would wait for Davos' arrival before making that decision. "Can you describe to me how relations are between the King and my uncle?" Jon asked glad to finally hear another perspective.
"They are rather cordial, I am afraid. The King is still mostly on his best behaviour even if he has taken up whoring again as well as consuming wine. Just not in the excessive quantities he drank before. I take heart in the fact that his newly found resolutions are weakening."
"How long do we have before he seeks a new betrothal?"
"He is already seeking one, my Prince. The better question is: how long can we thwart him? I have convinced the High Septon that annulling a King's marriage is a delicate thing and should be watertight. I have asked him to consult with the Citadel and have the annulment papers signed by several Archmaesters just to make sure nobody can discredit the document."
Varys winked at the Targaryen Prince. "Of course my little birds have delayed the message a bit and have sown a slight discord between the Archmaesters delaying the annulment as long as remains plausible. In case you were wondering, the main argument of the Maesters opposing the annulment is that they have only the King's and the former Queen's word that she has this hereditary disease and that her children are likewise afflicted. No Maester has been allowed to examine any of the persons involved so there is no real proof. They are being asked to make this far reaching decision solely on the testimony of the King, a King who is not impartial to the outcome of the matter."
"How many suitable brides have already flocked to the capital? Have you done anything to delay them and their demands?"
Jon was curious to hear how creative Varys would be when dealing with young members of the opposite sex. The man might be efficient. His peculiar outlook and sing song voice made it difficult for Jon to remain convinced that he had a highly competent man sitting in front of him. Perhaps that was part of his success though, making his enemies underestimate him.
"The most prominent candidate is Lady Margaery of House Tyrell. I have sent an invitation to Princess Arianne of House Martell but I am not at all certain that House Martell will set one foot closer to the capital than they absolutely have to, except for Prince Oberyn of course. But female attendance at court has certainly increased. Every noble Lord who has a daughter of an acceptable age to marry the King is here or in the process of travelling to King's Landing."
Jon thought he almost saw Varys roll his eyes. He quickly focussed back on the man's words.
"The small council however has convinced the King that it is bad manners to openly look for a new wife when still married. Their opinion is that secret negotiations are also not to be undertaken yet, since nothing stays a secret in the Capital for long and the King should avoid creating a scandal. All words of the small council of course." Again Lord Varys winked.
"I have also been successful in distracting the King somewhat. He won't be asking for a progress report twice a day anymore. I found a suitable whore who is on her way to become his only bed partner. She has him convinced that she loves him and that it hurts her when he seeks satisfaction with other whores. For the moment the King is somewhat under her spell. He will still want to marry a highborn Lady and sire an heir, but he is no longer that upset with a delay of several moons." Varys' lips only twitched at first but the smile broke on his face when Jon chuckled.
"Between you and Prince Oberyn, I do not know who would get the trophy for best schemer." Jon's smile widened.
"Oh, there are still a few other candidates for that title, I am sure. But to get back to the matter at hand, the Tyrells have not made overtures. In fact, Mace Tyrell has been talking to Lord Stark about terms for a betrothal between Robb Stark and his daughter Margaery. It could be nothing more than a distraction. Lady Olenna plays the game as no other. But it could also be that the rumours we have spread about the King no longer being able to sire children and the convenient existence of grown up male bastards has made her think twice."
"Which rumour did you spread, the hunting accident or the sexual disease?" Jon was curious to see which of his suggestions had been used.
"Both rumours of course and they are spreading fast. As usually is the case, the person concerned is shielded from them and has not the slightest clue. Nobody dares confront the King." Varys stated matter of fact but an approving look was directed at the young man in front of him. "That was an excellent suggestion, my Prince."
"I try." Jon said in a dry tone and both men laughed.
"That you do, my Prince. Word about you may not have reached the capital yet, but it has reached my ears. Word about your treatment of the smallfolk everywhere you go but more specifically word of your treatment of the Baratheon loyalists locked up in Dragonstone. Allow me to say that I am most impressed."
Jon looked a bit flustered and changed the topic. "How long do you think we can conceal the news of the Targaryen occupation of Dragonstone and the Driftmark from King Robert?" Jon asked.
"All will depend on the loyalty of the inhabitants on both Dragonstone and the Driftmark."
When Jon wanted to intervene, Varys waved his hand. "I know the people there are loyal to you. But I also know from experience it only takes one disgruntled person, one greedy man, woman or child. Rumours and loyalties are a fickle thing, my Prince. It is impossible to answer that question. My advice to you is not to wait too long. However, if you decide on a timeline, give me fair warning. I might have to speed up discrediting King Robert in the eyes of the smallfolk if need be."
"I suppose I do not want to know?" Jon asked a bit uncomfortable, giving him a brief look before averting his eyes.
"Better not, my Prince. It will make everyone's reaction the more genuine for it." Varys replied.
"The King has asked questions about the increased number of ships that have been spotted sailing towards both islands. I have been spinning tales to divert his attention, but King Robert is not a fool, when he is sober, that is."
"How is the list of Targaryen loyalists in the capital and the Crownlands coming along? Will I be able to count on some support from the noble houses?"
"It is growing a bit larger almost every day. Ser Gerold's and Ser Oswell's input has been invaluable in this regard. But it is slow going. We need to tread carefully when we approach possible new allies. One word to the wrong person and your cause is exposed and our lives in danger."
The Masters of Whispers continued his report when he saw his Prince's acknowledging nod. "Lord Stark and I are working very hard to put together a force that can gather around you the moment you step into King's Landing to stake your claim. Lord Stark has his extensive houseguard he brought with him when he travelled south to replace the Lannister guards and in the city small groups of allies from the Riverlands and the North have been arriving. We are doing everything we can to be ready soon. We have used the pretext of nobles bringing their sisters, daughters or granddaughters to the capital several times already."
"How do you think the smallfolk will react to my claim? Will they view me as a needed change, a welcome return of the rightful ruler or will they perceive me as a threat, as a usurper? Perhaps it is prudent to spread vague rumours of my deeds throughout Fleabottom and other populated areas?"
Varys looked away. The man was clearly embarrassed. "I am sorry, my Prince. I might have been remiss in not telling you but I did not think it was constructive to give you the latest status of the rumours regarding the dragonrider."
Jon eyed him speculatively wondering what could be this bad that Varys would not volunteer the information. "I would rather like to know, Lord Varys. That way I can come prepared and will not be taken by surprise and perhaps unable to efficiently hide my disappointment. Tell me. I reckon it is not good news?" His tone made it clear he all but ordered Varys to speak.
"It is not, my Prince. I am trying to counter them but without revealing all and alerting King Robert to your existence, there is little I can achieve it seems. Someone is spreading rumours about terrifying dragons breathing fire and burning through people and ships as if it is nothing. As things are standing now, the smallfolk will panic at the first sight of a dragon. I am a bit at a loss."
"Someone? Any idea who?" Jon asked taken aback.
"Only guesses. Nothing concrete. I feel as if I am failing you, my Prince." Varys no longer kept his head down though. Jon could almost hear the man think his way to a possible solution.
"There is still time to turn the tide. I will think on it." Jon's voice sounded firm. This was not his biggest problem anyway. "Perhaps a delegation from Dragonstone and the Driftmark should visit King's Landing and tell their version of the story as soon as I arrive. Between the two of us and my advisers, we will come up with other countermeasures." Jon elected not to stress once more that he wanted to be kept appraised of such things. He was certain Lord Varys had gotten the message loud and clear and would not make the same mistake twice.
"For now we will double our efforts to smuggle enough men in the capital to act as your protection detail." Apparently Lord Varys had already bounced back and was thinking constructively. The man was a useful asset. Once more Jon was grateful that for some reason the Master of Whispers had chosen to support his side all those years ago.
"Do not forget I have an entire fleet with thousands of men at my disposal. There are several possibilities. I want every angle covered and no bloodshed if at all possible. But concrete plans will have to wait. I would like for my Hand to be here and it is possible I will have to deal with the situation beyond the Wall first."
"We will be ready, my Prince. I am just uncomfortable about the absence of news from the Stormlands." Lord Varys fidgeted with his hands, the only outward sign of his discomfort."
"We have not heard back from Lord Dondarrion or Thoros of Myr. Our greenseer's visions of that area are still blocked. You have made no progress either?" Jon asked. The situation in the Stormlands was also one of his worries.
"My little birds have not reported back and what is worse, they seemed to have vanished into thin air. I am hesitant to send others. I will not endanger my young spies if it can be helped I fear the red priestess in service of Lord Baratheon is some kind of greenseer as well and can sniff them out just as Lord Reed helped us with exposing Littlefinger's spies these last few years. You should fear for the safety of Lord Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr." Varys cautioned.
"There is nothing we can do for them now. We have no means of contacting them. They volunteered and went on their own accord." Jon sighed. "Is that is the only region that troubles you? I still am not sure about the Iron Islands, Dorne, The Rock and the Reach. Neither of them is likely to declare for my side as far as I know. The other Kingdoms are firmly on board."
"Yohn Royce has declared for you then?" Varys asked pleasantly surprised?
"If he hasn't, he will soon. Uncle Ned should have gotten him past the last hurdle after I laid the groundwork." Jon gave himself credit for once.
"I withheld a petition from Lord Walder of House Frey. King Robert is already looking for ways to punish house Frey for conspiring with Peter Baelish. Trouble in the Riverlands will not help our cause."
Jon frowned. "What did Walder Frey want from the King? Perhaps he has a daughter or a granddaughter at the ready to marry the King?"
"More than one, I am sure. I reckon he will give the King the pick of the lot and offer their weight in gold as a dowry. But that was not the content of the scroll. House Frey officially petitioned to replace House Tully in the Riverlands. I think Lord Frey has gone mad or something, sending this petition now that Lord Stark is Hand of the King. I wonder if this is still the remnants of a last hurray of Littlefinger, his last attempt at creating chaos in that region." Varys sat comfortably in his chair marvelling at the sight of the young man in front of him.
Jon however was still mentally cataloguing the possible hindrances to his plans. "We also need to keep a close eye on House Bolton. I am sure Lord Bolton has not given up on his ambitions. With Robb still rather new at governing such a large kingdom we need to stay vigilant. Chaos in the North will weaken our cause considerably."
"It was wise of you the send your other uncle his way." Lord Varys remarked a bit gleeful when he saw the young man startle at his words.
"How did you know I was behind that?" Jon had been convinced that he had handled that as subtle as he could.
"My birds in Winterfell heard Benjen talk to himself in his quarters. Do not worry, my Prince. Not only are they very discreet, I do not think they understand the real meaning of the things they report to me. Just think of it as a puzzle. If you have only a few pieces, you can't see what it represents. If you have been able to assemble most of them, you can image the rest and get the full picture. My little birds are trained to remember the exact words even if they do not understand their meaning."
"Well, I want my Cousin Robb to be respected by the Lords of the North and making it public that he already had some trouble after only a few moons wouldn't help his position."
"Nobody will hear a thing from me, my Prince." Varys reassured the young Prince. "Now, can you tell me about that dangerous enemy in the north? It will help me understand why our cause has been delayed. You know, the one everyone thought never existed and was just a figment of a fairy tale teller's imagination? I am told you killed an ice creature yourself?"
Jon obliged him by describing his rescue of Uncle Benjen telling the normal version, not the enhanced one Tormund and himself had playacted several times in front of a bonfire at the Free Folk settlement. He did go into detail when describing the way of life of the Free Folk and their predicament.
"The problem is that the White Walkers and their army of the dead have retreated to the far north for some mysterious reason of their own. It will take them a moon and a half to reach the nearest Wildling settlement once they start moving. We do not know how important time is for these creatures nor how slowly their soldiers decay."
Jon shifted slightly in his chair when his mind, unsolicited, conjured up those foul images. "Trust me when I say that the wights are stinking, rotting corpses who mindlessly obey their masters. What if somehow they know that they are creating trouble for me in Westeros and are just toying with me, with us and biding their time? Perhaps I should take the gamble and change my priorities once more. If I take the throne first, I could throw the might of the Seven Kingdoms against them."
"My Prince," Varys started.
"I know, Lord Varys" Jon prevented Lord Varys from intervening. He took a deep breath. "I do realise that it will not be a straightforward victory. I will not have full control of all Kingdoms without a few struggles at best, a war on my hands at worst. I just pray that this respite lasts long enough for Davos Seaworth and Ser Arthur to arrive. I want to make such important decisions with their support and advice. I have a feeling that there is no good choice here. Unfortunately I am only one person and my presence or it is perhaps more accurate to say, the presence of my dragons is paramount to both causes."
"And I always say 'a decision is only as good as the information upon which it is based'. Let everyone, all your allies gather as much information they can and then you sit down, hopefully with your trusted Hand at your disposal. I know I am undermining my own field of experience but also make sure that you consult that greenseer of yours once more. Leave no stone unturned in your quest for information. And then, clear your mind and look at everything as if you see it for the first time. Trust your instincts, my young Prince. They have not led you wrong so far."
Jon stayed silent, thinking about his own greenseeing ambitions and the risks they involved. Varys was wrong about his instincts though. He had made several mistakes already, starting with the attack on the pirate ship. The rest of Varys' advice sounded wise enough if he had ample time before a decision needed to be reached. It always came down to time and timing.
"Perhaps I should tell you about the proposition I have received from Yara Greyjoy." Jon changed the subject once more and proceeded to tell a rather impressed Master of Whispers of all his dealings with the Ironborn and Strickland, the captain-general of the Golden Company.
After the more serious topics were dealt with, both men enquired after the other's life story. Somehow the conversation circled back to the Hand of the King.
"Did you hear about the bet Eddard Stark made with King Robert?" Varys asked the young Prince.
"I do not think so?" Jon replied uncertain that he knew what the Master of Whisperers was referring to.
"Well our Lord Hand won a prize stallion of the King when Prince Oberyn accepted the seat on the small council. Our Dornish friend even accepted it personally instead of sending a representative of Dorne to represent him."
"I didn't hear about that. I bet you though that Uncle Ned will not take possession of the King's horse. Just Robert Baratheon's admitting defeat will be enough to satisfy my uncle."
"We'll see. I'll keep you informed, my Prince."
Both men startled when the innkeeper entered the room to light a few candles. Jon realising that it was growing late quickly ended the meeting after that and said goodbye to Varys. He apologized that he was not able to stay for supper but he didn't want to make his Kingsguard worry unduly. He had specifically promised Ser Gerold to be back before dark. Ser Gerold on his part had agreed not to send someone by boat to guard him. Jon wanted to keep his side of the bargain and needed to fly back immediately.
Varys took his leave from the Targaryen Prince with a low bow and sat back down as he watched the young man disappear. Aegon Targaryen was not at all what he had expected. Lord Stark had given an accurate description of his features but when the Lord Hand talked about the Prince it was always as one talks about one's child.
Lord Varys had not expected the Prince to be so mature and grown up. He had supposed his assertive letters had been written with the help of his advisers. It had been a pleasant surprise. The Targaryen Prince had a firm head on his shoulders and even though the influence of House Stark was clearly present, the Prince was an honourable, well educated, open minded person. He was already more sophisticated, more familiar with the grey areas of real life than his uncle who was more than two times his senior.
Varys always wanted more knowledge. Not having the constitution to accompany the Prince to his dragons but wanting to know more about the young man's interactions with his large flying beasts, he had ordered a little bird to follow the Targaryen Prince from a distance. The young boy had been ordered to keep well out of sight since he knew exactly where the Prince was headed. The boy knew what details to look out for and would bring him a detailed account as soon as possible.
What Varys could do himself was watch from the town's square, amidst several townsfolk how the Prince disappeared from sight. He could only see a small figure atop a green dragon from this distance but that sight alone was impressive enough.
He knew his little spy would soon report every little detail. How the Prince mounted his dragon. If he used sign language or spoke to them in High Valyrian. Whether the beasts breathing could be heard, and so on. Even the tiniest detail would be brought to his ears. He had trained his little birds well. He went inside to wait for the young boy. These were indeed strange times, but strangely fascinating in a very good way.
Later that evening, Varys stared at a small brown mushroom, a frown on his face. According to his little bird, the Prince had taken several of these back to Dragonstone. He knew they were poisonous and wondered what the young man intended to do with them. These were strange times indeed.
***
The next day on Dragonstone things went back to normal. Jon resumed his normal training, discussed the newest scrolls from the Wall, Uncle Ned, Greywater Watch, a long one from his uncle Benjen and the lack of news from the Stormlands. He spent some time in the library with Sam and Daenerys reading the response from the Tyrells.
It was a response to the one they had sent. Dany had signed a message that stated that she could not entertain their offer in good faith since she had nothing to bring to the table. The dragon or dragons were not hers. But she thanked them all the same and reassured them that she was not in need of support since she had loyal friends in the North. Lady Olenna praised her honesty and promised her support should she ever need it, 'We women need to stick together. Males have enough power as it is', were the exact words the Queen of Thorns had used in her answer.
Jon went on a stroll with Dany and they did their best to keep to neutral topics. She told him how for the first time in years her life had purpose. How she enjoyed helping Sam with all the messages and that he was making progress with his fluency in High Valyrian. "I have been meaning to speak to you about something, Aegon. It is about my Septa Moelle." Daenerys addressed a topic Jon had been hesitant to broach.
"Am I right in stating that she has not made Dragonstone her home?" Jon guessed.
Dany nodded. She was touched that he had paid enough attention to notice that. "She has asked to be relieved of her duties and wants to return to Essos. Apparently she left some dear friends behind and as you said, life for her here is too,uh, well uh, too boring. For her, not for me." Dany added that last bit hastily.
"Well you have new responsibilities in running the household, are helping our cause, assisting Sam, and taking strolls with me." He smiled hesitantly when he added that last bit. "Septa Moelle probably sits alone in her room right now. She hasn't tried to form acquaintances with anyone since arriving here. I am worried about the effects of her leaving you though. You hardly have any female company as it is." Jon frowned when he contemplated that aspect of the situation.
Dany hesitated but straightened herself when she looked at him. "I must admit that I have received word from Irri, my former handmaid who stayed behind in Pentos. Her friend, the man she stayed in Essos for, has transferred his attentions to someone else and now she regrets not accompanying me to Westeros. She asked if I still would be interested in her services. I received that message the day when we, uh, when we quarrelled. I admit I sent word of my acceptance without consulting you. I expect her any day." She steeled herself ready to defend her actions.
"That's wonderful news, Dany." A genuine smile lit his features. "I remember her. She was the one who lived with the Dothraki once and was sold into your services, wasn't she? I wondered why she was not with you when you arrived. That girl worshipped the ground you walked on. I reckoned she was more a friend than a servant."
"Well, I was the first who treated her as a human being and not a slave. She received some recompense for her services and was allowed to pursue a relationship. I offered her her freedom. Is it any wonder that she is loyal to me?" Dany smiled tentatively. "So you will welcome her to Dragonstone? I did not overstep?"
"Of course you didn't overstep, Dany. You are entitled to a royal entourage. I am a fool for not considering that before. Look who is not well versed in the traditions and lore of Westeros now. You need ladies-in-waiting. You are a royal princess." Jon's face turned pensive now.
"Possibilities are limited of course since our presence here is still a secret but perhaps we could ask Lord Manderly. He has two granddaughters near your age, Wylla and Wynafryd. I could write him. Or better, I'll write the first paragraph to introduce you and then you can make the request yourself. House Manderly is a large and rich house. Lord Manderly's granddaughters will have received an excellent education and they will be well versed in Westerosi houses, history, customs, traditions, dances."
He looked at her and seeing her willing to consider this another idea struck him and he became even more enthusiastic and started to talk even faster.
"Oh, and if Prince Oberyn might lend you one or two daughters, not only would you be well protected but also, if you would so desire, they could teach you to wield a spear, a sword, a bow, or whichever skill you want acquire to defend yourself. Best see how we formulate that request though or all eight of his daughters might descend on Dragonstone before you know it."
"Aegon," Dany put her hand on his arm to stop his momentum. "You are thinking out loud and getting ahead of yourself. Let us discuss this later in detail once we both had a chance to think this through before we make any decisions. Do not mistake me. These are all valid ideas, but we need to consider them carefully first. We have to consider all options and repercussions."
She looked up at him willing him to hear her out. "Have you considered that a granddaughter of Lord Manderly might not want to acknowledge a bastard born daughter of a Dornish Prince? And I hesitate to think how she might treat Irri. And you said it yourself, we need to be circumspect when we formulate our messages. I would require both candidates' opinion on the matter. My female entourage must be a tight knit group that likes and supports each other. If not, I'd rather choose to let it just be me and Irri. So please let us postpone this topic until later and for now, let us just enjoy our walk."
"I'm sorry." Jon looked a bit sheepish. "I sometimes get carried away. You are right. And you have the final say of course. Perhaps you might offer a trial period?" He shook his head. "I am sorry. I am doing it again. " He stopped at the edge of the cliff and looked out over the sea.
"Dany, I officially put this matter in your hands. You decide what you think is best. If you need me to write an introduction in a message, just ask. Whenever you need my assistance or advice, I am ready to give it. But I won't interfere without your leave. I trust you to handle this matter and know you will not compromise our safety." His tone clearly indicated the subject was closed for now. Forcing his mind to dwell on another subject, he inspected the ever growing number of ships for a while. He noticed she had come up right next to him, a peaceful look on her face. "Look at our fleet. It is an amazing sight isn't it?" He broke the silence.
"It is. It will be even more perfect later." Now she was the one who looked pensive. "Aegon, have you given the order to make banners and dye the sails with the Targaryen colours and the sigil of the three headed dragon yet? " She asked him.
"I haven't, not personally. Perhaps one of my advisers has, but I do not think it likely. That is a good point you raise, Dany. Perhaps you can bring this up at our next meeting and with it suggestions on how to organise such an endeavour. I look forward to the day that we will be able to display our house's sigil openly once more with a lot of pride." He smiled at her grateful she had brought that up. "Thanks Dany."
"Glad to help, Aegon." She looked at him briefly before turning her eyes back in front of her to the direction in which they were walking.
Although they had been able to carry on a nice conversation, she still felt the lingering hurt that he hadn't taken her with him to the Driftmark. Therefore she avoided the topic and refrained from asking him after his grandmother's wellbeing. However, when they were well on their way back to the castle, it was Aegon who brought the subject up.
"I would like to introduce you to my foster grandmother, Dany. She expressed the wish to get to know you. Would that be your wish as well?" He had stopped and studied her, his grey Stark eyes expressing more warmth than they had these past sennights.
"I would love to meet her, Aegon. I admit to being somewhat disappointed that you visited her without me the other day." She told him keeping her tone light and friendly.
"I didn't want to keep you from her. I just had more errands to run and couldn't take you with me. That reminds me. I have something for you. He handed her a small package wrapped in a brown cloth and she took it hesitantly.
"You bought me a gift, Aegon?" Her eyes lit up.
"Actually I didn't buy it." Seeing her immediate disappointment he amended his statement. "I wanted to buy it for you but the blacksmith, Jekken, he is a friend you see, he wouldn't accept any payment. So it is more his gift than mine. I can only take credit for wanting to procure it for you."
He watched as she carefully unwrapped the trinket and his face softened when he witnessed the wonder on her face.
"It is you on Rhaegal! How on earth did he make it in such detail? Green metal even! Thank you Aegon, I'll cherish it. If ever I get the chance, I want to thank the blacksmith personally. I'll carry it with me everywhere I go." She wrapped it once more in the cloth and tucked it in her side pocket.
I'll take you to the Driftmark soon, I promise. I'll introduce you to my foster grandmother and we can visit Jekken's little shop." A tender look flashed over his face before he resumed a neutral expression once more.
"Well, you have kept your promises so far. I pray each night that you will be able to keep all of them." She swallowed and averted her eyes. Turning away from him she added, "Perhaps we should go back inside?"
"Dany," he circled around her so he faced her once more, his grey eyes bore into hers. "Dany, please don't make this any harder than it already is."
"I am not the one making it hard, Aegon. That is all you. You are the one who asks for us to be in each other's company often and expects us to behave as if we are just cordial family members. You do not know how hard that is for me to do. How hard it is to keep my promise not to tempt you. And all the while fool that I am, I long for your company and I can't refuse you when you ask me to go for a walk with you."
Tears welled up and she looked at the ground in an attempt to avoid his gaze. Seeing her tears only amplified the conflicting emotions that were making his stomach flutter.
"Dany, look at me, please. I didn't realise it was that hard for you. What would you have me do? I thought not seeing you, ignoring you would make you feel worse. I only had the best intentions. Do not think for one instant that this is easy for me." His voice betrayed his uncertainty.
"Then why, Aegon? Why do things only halfway?" She lifted her head and her beautiful violet eyes who glistened even brighter now that they were wet with unshed tears pleaded with his grey ones. Her voice was steady though when she reasoned with him.
"If you are insisting on spending time together, just the two of us, with the intent of making things easier for me, why not use this precious period of grace that we are granted here on Dragonstone to actually make me feel better instead of dangling what could be before my eyes? It only makes things worse. I would feel so much better if you would just hold me in your arms for a short time, make me feel that you love me and convince me you still believe there is a chance for us."
She stopped when she saw his eyes grow darker as he took a step closer. It had been a desperate plea of her. She knew full well he would not indulge her. His attitude these last sennights had been frustratingly consistent. No lingering looks, no extra warmth. She got just the same cordial treatment that Sam got. But against all odds his eyes, his beautiful eyes really looked at her now and she found herself firmly pressed against him, their bodies fitting perfectly together. She felt him breathe hard against her neck.
"Never doubt that, my love. Never doubt that my every effort is spent working towards a favourable outcome for us. If only you knew …" He drew in a sharp breath and stopped mid-sentence.
"What is it, Aegon?" She felt him tense and sensed his sudden agony but couldn't understand it.
"I can't tell you, Dany." He almost groaned in frustration. His voice sounded forlorn when he continued. "As the Gods are my witness, I can't tell you. I can't tell anybody. It is my burden to bear. Just know that I will leave no stone unturned." He took a calming breath.
"I love you Dany. I always will. I hope I do not have to marry someone other than you. My heart would betray that unhappy woman every single moment of our miserably joint lives. Never doubt that I love you and only you."
He tilted her chin and gave her a desperate kiss. It was like a dam had broken and all his pent up frustration and anguish came pouring out of him. He was not gentle when he forced her lips to open for him. She didn't mind and didn't offer any resistance. She held on to him and let him take whatever he wanted from her.
When he finally released her swollen lips to kiss every bit of uncovered skin he could find, she willingly tilted her head backwards to grant him easier access to the soft skin below her chin and the neckline of her dress. His left hand found its way to her lower back and he pressed his body against hers. She could feel his hard member and realised that she had been wrong to doubt him. Aegon wanted her. He wanted her desperately and had been struggling with their tepid encounters just as much or perhaps even more than she had.
"Feel this Dany. Feel what you do to me. Never doubt me. Do," he kissed her left eye, "not", he kissed her right eye, "ever", he kissed the top of her nose, "doubt me", was murmured against her mouth as he took possession of it once more. His right hand held her head imprisoned and she couldn't draw back even if she had wanted.
Somehow he still increased the intensity of his kisses. She felt as if he was eating her alive. His hips gyrated against hers and she felt a fire burn inside her, a longing for something more grow almost painfully intense. She wanted him to devour her whole and responded to his passion her tongue actively joining the fight his tongue was raging in their mouths. The feelings got too intense and Dany started shaking. She could only keep upright because Aegon was supporting her.
She felt it the moment he realised this. His violent kisses turned gently in the blink of a moment. His hands still cupped her face and buttocks but now only to support her instead of to confine her. Their lips almost touching, he breathed heavily against her.
"I'm sorry Dany. I am so sorry. I am nothing more than a brute. Forgive me. Don't be scared of me. Never be scared of me." His tone was soft and remorseful.
She immediately realised he had mistaken her shivers for fear and not for what they really were.
"I was not scared Aegon. My body just reacted to yours. It wants you as bad as you just proved you want me." She couldn't hide her happiness when she gazed at him her passion-filled eyes confirming her words.
He tucked her head against his chest and she felt safe and cherished. She felt his heart beat fast and listened to his heavy breathing. When it slowed down, he spoke against her hair. "I am sorry for putting you in this state. I am sorry we cannot finish what we started." He held on to her but made sure to keep his hips away from her body. I need a cold bath. I do not think I can walk two steps without anyone noticing." he softly touched her belly with his hardness to prove his point before severing the connection once more.
"Let's sit down for a while." Although she felt frustrated as hell, she understood this was neither the time nor the place to take this any further than they already had. Besides, she had made that damned promise not to entice him. They sat on the lush grass facing each other, just enough space between them so he could not touch her even if he stretched his legs.
"As soon as you are able to, just go inside Dany. I probably need more time than you to fix this." He looked at his groin, a wry smile noticeable on his face. "I told you it would be hard if we went down this road."
"Literally?" She tried to joke.
"As you see," his smile more genuine now. Some of the tension subsided. "You'll be the death of me woman."
"I don't mind, not if that happens when we are both old, grey and lying in bed together.
"Not helping, Dany." Jon protested but he was disappointed when she got up and left a bit later. Nothing had been resolved but he felt lighter somehow. He had reached a decision. He would not wait any longer. Tonight he would fix the potion.
***
Sam burst into the kitchen on the lower levels of the castle in a very uncharacteristic manner for him. He was sweating profusely having run the entire length of the castle trying to find Jon.
"Jon! Here you are. What are you doing?" He stopped in his tracks seeing Jon sitting on a modest chair, his head and arms lying on the wooden table, his eyes closed.
"Jon, wake up! An urgent message has come from Winterfell. Wake up Jon!"
Touching Jon's shoulder didn't help. He shook him carefully in an effort to get his friend to open his eyes. When he got no reaction whatsoever he studied the small cup and the pestle. Jon had been grinding something. He took up the cup and looked at a brownish substance that smelled terribly.
"What in Seven Hells?" Sam looked around for more clues and found discarded spores of mushrooms and some wilted leaves he didn't immediately recognise. Then it dawned on him that Jon was here entirely alone. No sign of any of his Kingsguards. He got worried that Jon had done something stupid on purpose.
Sam had come to look for his friend after Maester Pylos had woken him to give him the urgent message from Winterfell stating that he could not find the Prince in his bedroom and if Sam would be willing to give it to him. He had encountered a servant on his way down to the library to check whether Jon had perhaps trouble sleeping and was doing some research. The servant that was doing his rounds to check the candles had told him he had spotted the Prince entering the kitchen and had heard him ask the maids to give him some privacy.
Sam was getting really worried now. He had tried to shake Jon with a bit more force but Jon still hadn't given any sign of life except for the rising and falling of his chest that at least was proof that he was still alive and breathing. All of a sudden he heard footsteps in the hallway. Some instinct told him to protect his friend and he quickly hid the evidence of the strange potion Jon had apparently consumed.
"Lord Tarly, have you seen," Ser Oswell halted his speech seeing his Prince asleep at the kitchen table.
"The poor boy is apparently exhausted. Too many late nights combined with early morning trainings will do that to you. Shall we wake him and help him back to his bed?" Ser Oswell looked at Sam.
"I think we should try and wake him. I have a scroll marked urgent from Winterfell. The seal however marks it as a personal message for the eyes of the Prince only. If only Davos were here. He is authorised to open such scrolls if Jon is not available."
"Well, what are you waiting for? The Prince is right here. We only have to wake him." Ser Oswell approached the table and just as Sam had done before, he touched Jon's shoulder. "My Prince?" He applied a bit more pressure. "My Prince? Please wake up. An urgent message from your uncle has arrived."
A small groan and Jon lifted his head slightly only to put it back down. Both men heard Jon's stomach make a nasty sound.
"Sam, a chamber pot or some sort of bowl, quickly." Ser Oswell witnessed his Prince turn green on the spot.
Sam grabbed the first kettle he could find and handed it to Ser Gerold. The knight helped Jon lift his head and turned it to the side. It had been the right call. Not even opening his eyes Jon hurled the contents of his stomach into the receptacle until there was nothing left and it were dry heaves that both men witnessed. Sam had gotten pale and his stomach felt queasy as well. Ser Oswell wasn't doing much better.
"Sick," was all that Jon was able to say in a hoarse voice.
Ser Oswell called a servant and gave him the kettle to dispose of its contents. He gently lowered his Prince's head back on the table and went over to the small window to breathe in some fresh air. Sam however attempted once more to get Jon's attention. "Jon, try to focus. There is an urgent message from Winterfell. We need you lucid so we can learn its contents."
This time the groan was louder. "Winterfell?"
"From Benjen Stark. If he says it is urgent, well uh then it is." Sam stammered.
"Read it." Jon managed to utter with visible effort.
"Can I open it?" Sam asked just to be sure.
"Out loud, please." Jon answered with another groan.
Jon,
Bad tidings. Robb missing for more than two days. Went to Wintertown with Theon. Neither returned. Ayra saw Greyjoy and Ramsay Snow together. Message received with ultimatum Boltons. Hand over Sansa in exchange for hostage. Have called Lords of the North to lay siege to Dreadfort. Fear each day one too many for Robb to withstand torture. Help from the sky is welcome.
Your uncle, Benjen Stark
When Sam had stopped reading, Jon tried to lift his head only to put it back down again. "Need leave."
"You are too sick to leave now, my Prince. Let me call for the Maester." Ser Oswell had watched his Prince's reactions with growing unease.
"Sam, water." Jon's croaking voice was barely recognisable.
"Sam, help him. I will fetch Ser Gerold." And Ser Oswell left the room.
Sam looked at his friend a big question in his eyes. "Jon, what have you taken?" At Jon's stricken look he added. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe for now. I have concealed the evidence. How can I help?"
"Water." Jon repeated with difficulty.
When Ser Gerold entered the room his clothes in disarray and out of breath, he saw his Prince looking pale and weak sitting up, his elbows on the table, his head held in both hands. Young Tarly was quietly talking to him.
"My Prince," he announced his arrival.
"Ser Gerold," Jon replied trying to make a better impression than he felt. "I'm all right. Unsettled stomach, headache, no fever, sorry to worry you." Drinking a few sips of water had helped his voice sound a bit more humane.
"Ser Oswell alerted the Maester to make you a tonic for your stomach. Maester Pylos is brewing it as we speak." Ser Gerold replied looking visibly relieved. Ser Oswell's descriptions had really worried him. I left Ser Barristan with the Princess. No need to alarm her for the time being. The message?"
Sam handed him the scroll trying to will the man to take it easy on Jon with a pertinent look.
"It seems our idyllic time here is at an end," the Lord Commander simply replied. "We will make a travel bag ready for you."
"Including your spyglass and little mirror, my Prince." He added when Jon threw him a doubtful look. "I will ask a servant to help you dress."
"I can leave?" Jon hardly believed his ears.
"Robb Stark is your kin. I've grown wiser, my Prince. I will even give you my blessing if in turn you leave on my terms. They are threefold. First you leave only if you have no fever. Second you do not leave before you can keep something solid in your stomach for half a day. And last but not least, you prove to us first that you can think straight enough to solve a riddle Sam will give you. No cheating." He addressed a stern look to both youths.
"Thanks, Ser Gerold. I promise to fulfil all three conditions before I risk myself and my dragons." Jon stood up and almost lost his balance.
"Just take it easy," Sam lent his shoulder for support. "Just give your blood a chance to flow through your body again." When Jon nodded gratefully the both of them slowly walked out of the room.
"See that they clean him before he dresses, Lord Tarly." Ser Gerold called after them as he watched his Prince disappear a deep frown between his brows.
Interlude 23: Visions
Bran was starting to like it at Greywater Watch. At first he had been sad to leave Winterfell although it was nice to be singled out for once. Normally his other siblings drew most of the attention. When they spoke to him it was often to chastise him to be more circumspect when he climbed. They never once praised him even though he had gotten really good at it. He could climb almost anything he wanted and very quickly when he applied himself. The tools he had received from Jon Celtigar had made all the difference. He could handle them really well and had ordered the local blacksmith at Winterfell to make more hooks so he could leave some of them attached to strategic spots in the walls he often climbed.
Things had changed when Lord Reed had arrived at Winterfell. They had all started to pay him a lot more attention. His mother had spent all her free time with him during his last days in his home. His older brother had been somewhat jealous. Bran knew Robb performed his warging exercises almost daily but had not made much progress. Arya and Bran had benefited immediately and felt a constant bond with their direwolf now. They could sense what their wolf was feeling and if they really concentrated they knew where their pet was. Bran persuaded Arya not to pester Robb about it, using the argument that her friend Jon would want it that way and would be proud of her for being so considerate. Bran knew Robb envied him even more now that he had been singled out by Lord Reed.
Lord Reed had proven to be an amazing teacher. Bran could warg into Summer easily now and join him when he roamed the swamps. He had also started to warg into a mouse and several bird species. Bran liked the feeling of flying although he still lost control the moment the bird flew too high or too far away from him. According to Lord Reed, he would get better at it. He had also experienced his first greendreams. The first one had come to him not long after Lord Reed had taught him to relax, clear his mind and think of the Gods. Such sessions always took place outside in the Godswood. Bran had never seen a more beautiful Godswood as the one here at Greywater Watch.
These days, he entered the woods with mixed feelings. Some of the visions the Gods sent him scared him. Lord Reed often needed to calm him down afterwards and help him make sense of what he saw. He had learned a lot though and knew already most of what to look for when the Gods gifted him with these visions.
He still remembered his very first vision. He had been touching the weirwood tree with both hands resting his head against it as Lord Reed had suggested when it had started. He had seen a desert and had felt the warmth on his skin. There had been a modest settlement in the distance with a few stone buildings and several tents in that vision. A tall skinny man with hardly any hair and a long beard had approached him but instead of speaking to him, the man had sat down against the only tree that could be found in the desolate landscape. Lord Reed had explained to him that it had probably been a palm tree when he had described how the tree looked in detail.
"Always look at your surroundings, Bran. You need to find clues to identify where you are. The tree you described grows only in regions with warm climates. That means you were somewhere in the south or even in Essos. Did the man carry a sigil on his clothing?"
"I didn't look." Bran had stammered a bit overwhelmed. "I don't think so? His clothing looked poor."
"What else did you observe Bran? Did he say anything? Did you see other people?"
"He just sat there staring in the distance, shaking his head." Bran had paused. "Home." He had looked up at Howland Reed with a bit of excitement. "He mumbled that word a few times. I think I hear him say he wanted to go home. He didn't see me."
"Of course he didn't. You weren't there Bran. This thing happened either a long time ago, or is happening now very far from where we are, or it hasn't happened yet. Do you understand what I am saying?" Lord Reed had put a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.
"I think so. When the Gods show us something it can be past, present or future. Oh, I might see who I am going to marry and whether I will win tournaments and be knighted?" The boy had brimmed with hope now, all fear of this strange gift momentarily forgotten.
"You might Bran. But to be able to understand that vision, you would have to be able to recognise your older self. Do you think you know what you will look like when you are an adult? Every time you see a person in a vision you must try to recognise him. If it is an old man, try to imagine what he looked like when he was younger. Perhaps it is your brother Rickon forty years from now. If you see a child playing with a toy, try to recognise the toy, the place where the child is and imagine what the child would look when it becomes an adult. We need to use every clue the Gods give us in our visions to find out what they mean. The Gods give us these visions for a reason. Somehow, some day, these visions will make sense and we will be able to help someone with our knowledge."
"Even a vision of an old man crying in the desert?"
"Even that vision Bran. See, you remembered something new. You hadn't told me before that the man had been crying. It often happens that the Gods will send you the same vision more than once. It can be moons, years later and when they do that. They might add a new detail to help you make sense of it. Don't worry. You'll get the hang of it. You are a very apt student. I am proud of how you are dealing with all of this, Bran."
Bran had stood up straighter, proud at being praised like that. That was one more thing Bran liked about being here. Here he wasn't one of five siblings and had to fight for attention. Here he was considered to be some kind of prodigy.
He got along with Meera just fine and even though Jojen had celebrated two more namedays, the boy was always kind and helpful. Jojen also had a bit of the gift and helped Bran when he doubted his abilities reassuring him he had all the time in the world to learn how to do this. Jojen even told him some mistakes he himself had made when he interpreted his first visions. Once he had received a scary vision of his mother lying in a bed screaming and bleeding and had run to his father to say that mother would die very soon. Apparently after Jojen's father had calmed him down enough to get him to describe the other persons present in his mother's bedroom, it became clear that he had witnessed his own birth.
After that tale, Bran never went alone to the Godswood. This time however he had not been in the Godswood when the visions came to him. He had been asleep, or so he thought when several short greendreams came to him. He woke in a sweat and quickly scribbled down a few key words to make sure he didn't forget a single one of them. He had never had so many in one instance and they had felt rather important so he dressed and went in search for Lord Reed immediately.
He found the man in his solar breaking his fast in solitude.
"Lord Reed?" he asked hesitantly staying in the doorway.
"Good morning, Bran. Come in. Is something the matter?" Lord Reed pushed his plate to the side and focused his attention on his ward.
"I need advice, Lord Reed. I had several visions I think are important." The boy explained his appearance.
"Been to the Godswood already, Bran? You know I would rather go with you when you are still learning and rather young to see some of the things the Gods might show you."
"I wasn't in the Godswood, Lord Reed. It happened in my bed, in my sleep sort of." Bran elaborated.
Lord Reed studied him closely for a while. "Then the Gods must have important messages indeed. Sit down Bran. Let's talk about them now before you forget some of the details."
Bran came in and chose a seat by the fireplace. He waited patiently for Lord Reed to take the seat facing him.
"Tell me exactly what they showed you, Bran." Lord Reed asked, a bit worried why the Gods would send visions without waiting for them to visit the Godswood.
Bran averted his eyes and concentrated. To Lord Reed it looked as if the boy was conjuring the visions up again.
"Well they were mostly just flashes and some disappeared rather quickly. I saw different persons, different locations and I saw a green dragon fly high across the sea with someone on it." The boy finally answered.
"Start from the beginning, Bran. And please take your time. What was the first thing the Gods showed you?"
"I saw aunt Lysa receive a gift from a man with a beautiful coat. She called him Petyr. It was a small bottle, I think a smelling liquid? She seemed afraid of it though." Bran blushed.
"The man kissed Aunt Lysa on the lips. He had a yellow sigil with a black drawing but the vision disappeared before I could make out what it represented."
"That my young charge, was Petyr Baelish. And it was a vision from the past. What you saw, probably happened several moons ago. The man was the traitor who had Lord Arryn murdered. You heard of Lord Baelish's trial?"
"Robb told me a bit about it. Aunt Lysa was guilty as well?"
"She was. Lord Baelish and your aunt did it together. You probably saw him handing her the poison that killed Jon Arryn. I wonder why the Gods showed you that since the matter has been resolved already. Petyr Baelish was tried, convicted and the sentence has been carried out. What was the next thing the Gods showed you?"
"I saw a woman and a man get married in the Godswood. The woman looked like Arya would look when she will be older. The man was a southerner. He had the most amazing white hair and dark purple eyes. They looked very much in love."
Bran shifted a bit in his chair, that vision clearly had made the boy nervous.
"Did you see a sigil? Did you recognise the Godswood? Were there witnesses present as is usual with a marriage before the Old Gods?" Lord Reed already suspected the bride was not Arya Stark.
"Yes! The man wore the sigil of the three headed dragon. Will Arya marry a Targaryen? I thought Prince Viserys had died and he was the last one?"
"Focus Bran. It can be someone from the past. We do not know whether this is past, present or future yet. You probably have several ancestors that resemble Arya."
"Well, she was a Stark, I saw the direwolf sigil. There were several knights present. I only saw one sigil, a burning tower. Bran paused and his face lightened up when he remembered the sigil. "A knight of House Hightower!"
"Then it is most likely that you saw the past, Bran. I think you saw a secret marriage between a Stark and a Targaryen. Do not tell anyone of this young man. Not even Jojen or Meera. This is a very important secret. Will you swear upon your honour as a Stark and upon the lives of all you hold dear not to reveal this secret to anyone unless circumstances allow for it?"
Bran's eyes were big as saucers. "I already swore the greenseer's oath Lord Reed. Is this really necessary?"
"It is Bran. This knowledge could cause a new Rebellion."
Bran quickly swore the oath wanting to know very badly what was going on. Lord Reed didn't make him wait.
"You saw your Aunt Lyanna marry Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, Bran. You saw that they were very much in love. The Rebellion that killed the Targaryen Prince was based on a lie."
"But why is it still so very much a secret after all these years?" Bran was a bit disappointed with that explanation. He thought he had uncovered some future alliance between Wolves and Dragons.
"Because House Targaryen is not extinct. They had a child. You have a cousin, Bran, a brave young man with a claim to the Iron Throne. He will come forward soon enough. Better leave it at that for now." Lord Reed was getting worried. The Gods really made his life rather complicated. Why show the boy all this?
Bran started to get agitated. "Lord Reed. That may come to pass sooner than you know. You might want to hear my next vision." When the man gestured for him to continue Bran spoke up.
"I saw King Robert, lying on a bed and he was dying. He was in a lot of pain. Does this mean my mysterious cousin will become King soon?" Bran was getting excited.
"Was someone with him, Bran? Normally a King has several people caring for him when he is that sick."
"Yes. I saw Father but he had his head lowered. I also saw Jon Celtigar. At least I think it was him. I only saw his back but I recognised his black curls. He was kneeling before the King's bed and held the King's hand. Is Jon a friend of the King? He never told us that." Bran's eyes, big as saucers now looked at Lord Reed eager for an explanation.
"Could you tell whether they were older than they are now? Think Bran, it is really important." Lord Reed was shocked that the most important vision to come to any of them in moons would be given to the young Stark and not to him.
"I tried Lord Reed. I know it is important but King Robert's hair was covered in a night cap, father was looking down and Jon, I mean Lord Celtigar, if it was him, had his back to me. I am sorry." The boy looked anxious, not wanting to disappoint his mentor.
"Never mind Bran. I am sure you told it most faithfully. Was that the last of your visions?"
"No I had another one. I saw an ice monster with a really scary face. I could be a White Walker straight out of Old Nan's stories. He held a healthy looking baby but then he touched the baby's face with his icy finger. It turned into an ice baby with bright blue eyes this one was only a dream, I mean a nightmare?"
Lord Reed saw the boy was deeply troubled but he didn't hold back. This was too important. He continued his relentless questioning. "Did you recognise the environment? Did you see anything, anyone else?"
"Only a winter landscape with pine trees, no buildings, no other sign of life. It was just a short vision and then another even shorter one. The one with the green dragon I told you about. That is when I woke up."
Important information or not, Lord Reed was starting to feel guilty for harassing the boy like this. He questioned the Gods intentions once more. He couldn't fathom why the Gods would harass a child like that? He needed to calm Bran down so he would not resist future visions and use all he had learned to extend them if possible.
"You did well, Bran. You are getting really powerful if you could see all of that in one session. I propose you break your fast first but then write everything down in the diary I gave you. Do not forget the tiniest detail. We will talk more about them later. You will soon be able to make sense of most of these visions. The Gods always have a reason."
"I didn't like them doing it in my sleep though, Lord Reed. Will this happen often?" Bran complained softly.
"I do not think so, son. I think they blessed you with everything at once so they can leave you alone for a while. I will certainly pray to them and ask them to spare you a bit. You did well, Bran. My advice to you is to write these visions down and then try to forget about them for a while. Leave the rest to me. I will take the necessary steps."
"Thank you, Lord Reed." Bran made an awkward bow with his head and left the solar. He tried to focus on the memory of a happy Aunt Lyanna kissing her new husband. At least that had been a happy picture.
Lord Reed sighed. Something was up. The Gods connected all these events together. He worried most about King Robert's deathbed and wondered whether it was really Jon who had held Robert Baratheon's hand. That would mean Jon would somehow be in King's Landing when the King died? And not just in King's Landing but on his knees next to his Grace's bed, as one would do for a friend who was dying. He got up from his seat and fetched his coat. He would visit the Godswood and ask the Gods to send these visions to him and not to a young boy that barely counted eleven nameday celebrations.
Most of all the description of the vision where the White Walker transformed a tiny baby and had stared straight at Bran had thrown him. Howland had never had a character in a vision staring him down, not ever. If Bran was telling the truth, and somehow he felt sure that was the case, then there was perhaps another power at work, a dark power that somehow could connect with the boy.
He wondered once more if he had done the right thing to take Bran under his wings and teach him how to receive greendreams. Perhaps the boy was still too young. Ever since he had started to teach Bran, he had received fewer visions himself and when he did, they were only of minor importance.
Was this the Old Gods' way of showing their disapproval for taking Bran under his tutelage too soon? He hoped not. He knew from experience that the younger a greenseer got initiated, the more powerful he could become. The gift was strong in the boy, even stronger than he had ever dared to expect. It would have been a waste not to try to let the boy develop his full potential.
He entered the Godswood and kneeled before the heart tree, submitting himself to the will of his Gods. He prayed fervently to receive their counsel.