Drinor
patreon
A Prince of House Targaryen Chapter 25 (A Lone Wolf)
🕑 Added 2022-09-16 20:40:09 +0000 UTCNed Stark
"Open The Gate," the guards shouted.
The giant gate opened slowly, letting out a loud noise; the snow that had gathered falling from it like rain, and cheers boomed in the courtyard of Winterfell. Ned knew people had gathered for his return, but he cared not for any of that; seeing Winterfell again made him feel relieved; he was back at the home where he always belonged; his eyes noticed his family waiting for him, causing him to hang his head down, his hands not holding the reins of his horse any longer. He felt tired from the long search, he had been sure this time he would have found him, but it seemed the old gods loved to play cruel games.
Ned felt a glare at the back of his head; he didn't need to look back to know who was glaring at him, her eyes as cold as the Wall; Ned dismounted his horse, his feet landing roughly, his family expecting him at the courtyard, hoping for good news, his eyes landed on Arya who was on the verge of crying, the little girl's mouth was trembling, Ned shook his head, no point on false hope. She left out a sob before running inside, Robb tried to stop her, but she ducked, running away from everyone.
A steward came to grab his horse and feed him; Ned handed him the reins before walking up to his family; no words were shared as they all walked inside.
The first thing Ned did was go to his solar; he had been gone for two weeks, letting Catelyn and Maester Luwin deal with the business here; he had also made sure to tell Catelyn that Robb should be in every important thing that involved ruling, thankfully Catelyn hadn't objected, she had agreed that Robb needed to start to know a few things when it comes to ruling.
Ned decided to talk with Maester Luwin a bit later, asking how things had gone around Winterfell in his absence, but right now, he needed to speak with an angry Bear, and if he wasn't careful, he could easily lose his neck.
"Where's the prince?" Maege had demanded to know the moment she arrived in Winterfell; it had been a month since Jon disappeared; Ned had received a letter from Maege Mormont that she would bring some of their finest hunters to find Jon, in case he was still in The North and not in Braavos somewhere or South of the Neck.
Ned, of course, had agreed, happy to receive help, but he knew the real reason, and he wasn't exactly looking forward to it.
Once she arrived, Dacey Mormont had arrived as well, for reasons Ned didn't know, but the glare Maege had sent him was enough to turn his blood cold and seriously fear for his life.
"Lady Maege-" "Don't Start, Lord Stark," she interrupted with a sneer, barely keeping her voice in check, her hand opening and closing around the handle of her club, big enough to smash skulls like eggs.
Maege put her hand on his desk, her finger tapping the wooden table. "Where. Is. He?" She demanded again; this time, her grip on her club tightened.
Ned seemed to notice that, but despite that, he didn't show fear, at least not on his face; his face was still normal, as was his breathing; standing up, he looked at Lady Maege straight in the eyes.
"I don't know where he is, I swear. I didn't do anything to him," Ned swore, causing Maege to huff, turning around, pacing around the solar.
"How," she slammed her hand on the desk, the sound definitely reaching the guards outside.
"How Do You Expect Me To Believe You, Ned?" She demanded, her grip on the table causing it to creak before Ned could defend himself.
"What about your lady Southern?" She questioned with clear disgust before spitting down as if talking about her made her disgusted.
Ned was taken aback by the tone she used to talk about his wife, he knew for some time now that she wasn't liked amongst the Northern houses, but the way Lady Maege made him mortified. "My lady wife would never harm Jon, They might not always see eye to eye, but she would never do something so drastic without talking to me first; for every big decision, she always talks to me; she's innocent in this one," Ned insisted, his voice low and calm. Defending his wife, despite a small part in him telling him that she wasn't as innocent as he was making out to be.
Maege tried to find any sign of lying but couldn't find any; closing her eyes, allowing the anger to fade away slowly, she scooted out a chair, sitting down with a huff.
"I shouldn't have listened to you, I promised you six years Ned, but now Prince Jon is gone, how do you expect me-" she stopped mid-sentence feeling her eyes burning, the dammed tears accumulating in her eyes; she was a mother as well, to allow Jon to be raised here was a sin, and she knew it, but she had agreed to tell them after six years until Lord Robb was older. Ned could teach him about ruling, and now...
'What kind of mother does this?? I'm so sorry, Lyanna,' she thought, feeling her eyes burning more, but not here, not in front of her lord.
"Lady Maege, I swear we will find him; as soon as I find him, I will personally tell him everything," Ned swore to her, but his words meant little to her; if they never find Jon, all these words will be as pointless as every word.
"Words are Winds, Lord Stark, if not backed up by action, that's all they are," She spoke, her voice cold and calm, sending shivers into his spine; Ned leaned back against the chair.
"When do we start?"
"Today, I won't wait any longer," Ned replied, standing up and leaving the room, followed by Lady Maege.
Now, Ned was having a terrible headache; despite what he did wasn't going away, he had requested from the maester some milk of the poppy to ease the pain, and the dreams at night weren't helping. He kept dreaming of Lyanna; she would visit him at night, condemning him, calling him an oathbreaker, but most of all, the biggest sin of all, a Kinslayer.
Ned would beg for forgiveness that he knew he didn't deserve. Sometimes it would be his brother Brandon; he would come at him, his face as pale as a ghost, a thick red line across his neck; just like Lyanna, she would call him an oathbreaker and a Kinslayer.
The door opened, revealing Lady Maege, walking inside, but not with the usual aura of strength she usually had, looking tired. He saw her red eyes, cheeks puffy, and skin color not as healthy looking as before.
"Lady Maege?"
"I'm returning back to Bear Island, my lord. I have been gone for a long time." She spoke, her voice low, almost a whisper, with no strength left.
Ned wanted to say she could stay here as long as she wished but knew she would object and deny it. "When?"
"Tomorrow morning, I will rest, sleep and leave at first light," she spoke, looking at the floor; her eyes lingered on the cold stone; despite not finding him, she held the hope that Lyanna's son was still alive, and wasn't in any mortal danger.
"I will leave you be," she said with a defeated tone; Ned saw her leaving the room, surprised that she didn't try to harm him, call him names, but not that this made things better.
A part of Ned wanted her to say all those things and more, to call him for what he was, calling him a Traitor of his own Blood; closing his eyes, he leaned back, pinching the bridge between his eyes, taking a deep breath, he decided to visit the crypts.
Maege Mormont
"Please, old gods, wherever he is, please look after him, show him the way back home, with the people he loves," she prayed; her words were whispers in the wind, kneeling in front of the Weirdwood tree, opening her eyes, the carved face looked back at her, she hoped they had listened to her, at least this time.
She had prayed for Lyanna's safety after the Rebellion started, but the old gods had not listened. Instead, they allowed a gentle soul like her to die, her beautiful face to disappear forever; she hoped they would listen this time; Lyanna's legacy didn't deserve to Die without any remembering him.
That night, she fell asleep almost too quickly, unlike the last six months that she barely slept.
"Lady Maege," a voice said in the winds; she whirled around, facing Lyanna Stark, wearing a white dress, the middle of her dress red as blood, the smell of blood strong in the air, her eyes red from crying, and a deep cut on her left hand.
Lady Maege's breath stuck in her throat; she opened and closed her mouth; she wanted to apologize to her, saying that she was sorry-
"I don't hate you, my lady; my little prince is still alive, and trust me, he's happier there than he has ever been in Winterfell," she spoke, turning around and walking away without saying anything. Despite Maege calling out her name to come back... but it was too late; the dead are only memories in our hearts.
Maege opened her eyes slowly; unlike last night, she felt... relieved; the guilt had disappeared.
The following day, she left Winterfell in a much better mood, even her daughter asked her if something had happened, but Maege had been silent; that dream somehow reassured her that Lyanna's prince was still breathing and happy, and one day, he would return, and they just needed to wait.
Rhaella Targaryen
"How are things going with Rhaenys?" Ashara asked, picking up her cup of tea with two of her fingers.
The Lady of Starfall had been invited to King's Landing by Elia, hoping to help with the problem of her marriage. Rhaenys was fifteen name days; around this time, the suitors would come wanting her hand; so far, the princess had denied them one after the other; Ashara understood why in cases like Joffrey Tully, Gerold Dayne, or Quentyn Martell, but she had also refused some good ones like Willas Tyrell, Richard Lannister, the firstborn of Jaime Lannister and Lynesse Hightower, and Robert Arryn, the firstborn of Jon Arryn.
"I don't know, I have told her that she eventually needs to marry, but she's still only fifteen; she still has plenty of time to marry someone," Elia answered with a slight frown.
She had seen the way her daughter was with Arianne; while she had nothing against the snake princess, she knew they often slept together, she had caught them several times in the middle of the act, Rhaenys moaning, with Arianne between her legs, licking her like a starving woman, the same day she had asked her bluntly if she preferred Woman, but Rhaenys had told her that she liked man as well.
Elia knew when either Aegon or Rhaenys were lying to her, and she knew her daughter wasn't lying, but she couldn't understand why her daughter sometimes would reject any suitors without much thought.
She had brought her good mother along to talk about it, not just for Rhaenys but Aegon as well.
"Rhaenys is a young woman; once she's ready, she will find someone, the fate has strange ways of making everyone meet the person of our hearts," Rhaella spoke with her low calming tone before taking a sip from her cup.
Elia felt better hearing her words, her mind briefly going to a certain woman who was similar to Rhaenys, almost like twins. Ohh Lyanna, if only you hadn't left us, we would have been together, you and your little prince, she thought, always loving to believe that the child had been a boy, despite Ned Stark telling them that it had been a stillborn girl.
Visenya would have been so happy here, she thought, feeling a hand on her shoulder, her good mother giving her a look, wanting to know if she was alright.
Ashara cleared her throat, asking how things had been going on with the Tyrells. Elia talked about Aegon spending time with the Tyrell girl; she looked decent enough and kind; of course, all that could be an act to get into his pants.
Elia had strictly told her son not to try anything sensual with her until they were certain they would marry. Thankfully her son was dutiful; he took all his responsibilities seriously, a little too seriously sometimes.
His thirteen name day was approaching; Viserys had once suggested that time had come for his nephew to visit the brothels of the city, to learn his ways with a woman; Elia had silently agreed with his proposal; she was Dornish first; she knew the importance of being good at seducing and understanding the way around a woman's body, the pleasure was an essential factor in every relationship according to her.
But her son had denied it immediately, saying he was a prince of the Realm and the Crown Prince, he shouldn't be seen in brothels, saying that who knows how people would think of a prince who wastes his time drinking and whoring around. Viserys had rolled his eyes before going to the brothels later; the King's brother was known for his frequent use of brothels; many even called him 'The Prince of the Brothels.'
Rhaegar had once or twice told his brother that his visits should be less frequent, but Viserys wasn't really interested in listening to his brother if his brother's words didn't involve marriage, tourneys, or brothels.
"Aegon is a good man; I'm sure he will be even a better king than Rhaegar," Rhaella reassured, taking another sip from her tea before grabbing a biscuit smothered in honey; taking a bite, she savored the sweet taste of honey, melting in her mouth, gulping it down with water mixed with honey.
Elia smiled to hear her good mother saying that for her son, she had no doubts that her son would be one of the greatest Targaryen kings, maybe even better than Jaehaerys The First.
"Ashara, how is Alysanne?" Rhaella questioned; it had been a long time since she had seen the little girl with hunting violet eyes; all she remembered was a crying baby who wouldn't get settled unless her mother was holding her.
"She's fine, your grace. Alysanne wants to visit the North, saying the place was calling to her, but I know she just wants to..." she stopped mid-sentence; a frown had formed on her beautiful face.
"I'm really sorry for what Lord Stark-" "No," Ashara stopped Rhaella before she could go any further; that time was behind her, and the sweet promises were nothing but wind.
"I don't fault him; he thought his sister was..." she glanced up at Rhaella, knowing the topic of the Rebellion was still a sour taste; many in the Royal family tried to forget about the rebellion, mostly about Aerys Targaryen.
"Ned chose duty over love, and I don't blame him," she admitted with a downcast look, a little angry that the old queen decided to bring up a sour subject that she would rather leave in the past.
"That didn't stop him from having his bastard," Rhaella prompted, much to Ashara's annoyance and Elia's confusion; she knew her good mother wouldn't bring up the rebellion like that without reason.
"Jon Snow is not his son," Ashara suddenly snapped, causing the old knight guarding the door to barge in, his hand holding the pommel of his sword, looking first at Rhaella and Elia.
"Your graces?"
"Is alright, Ser Barristan, you can return to your post," Rhaella dismissed him; the old knight nodded before closing the door. Rhaella turned her attention back to Ashara, who had pursed her lips into a thin line.
"Not his bastard? What makes you say that?" She questioned her voice blank, not showing interest, while Elia leaned closer to her friend, putting her hand on her arm, hoping to make her feel better.
Ashara felt her eyes welling up, looking at the floor, her mind going back to Ned, his eyes, his words, proclaiming that they would marry one day.
She shook her head with resolve, looking up at the old queen. "I don't know who's Jon Snow's father but is definitely not Ned; I know him better than anyone else. He wasn't someone to simply sleep with another woman because he wanted to feel alive one last time before going to war; No, I think Jon Snow is just one of the many bastards of Brandon, even I have heard how hot-headed he was, and with how many women he had been with." Ashara finished her rant with a huff, a frown on her face.
Rhaella didn't ask any other question; after the little awkward silence, Ashara and Elia quickly started talking about the old times; the queen barely interacted with them, her own mind in turmoil, but she knew there was a chance that Ashara was right about Jon Snow being Brandon's bastard it made sense until she remembered that the poor Stark was executed almost an entire year before the rebellion ended, that meant that if he had conception, Jon Snow, the baby would have already been at the very least four months old when the rebellion ended.
Yet, when Rhaella had questioned any of the wet nurses in King's Landing about the baby, one of them had told her that the baby was a month old at best. Now, the Queen wasn't sure what to think; if she was to trust the wet nurse, it meant Jon Snow was born around the time Ned Stark reached the Tower of Joy.
The thought alone made her feel a pang in her heart. Did Lord Stark really betray us? Why would he? She asked herself, trying to find a reason that he wouldn't; Lord Stark had told them the child was stillborn, and Rhaegar and Elia had been busy mourning for Lyanna to pay any attention to the "bastard" baby.
Eventually, Rhaella left the small meeting with Ashara, excusing herself, saying she was having a bad headache. Arriving at her bedchamber, she called for Ser Barristan.
"Your grace?"
Rhaella finished writing a letter, handing it to the old knight. "To the nameless," she whispered; the old knight nodded before walking away to do his duty.
Closing the wooden door, Rhaella fell on her bed almost as if she was weightless, her mind going back to Jon Snow. The thought that possibly her grandchild was raised as a bastard made her blood boil. She didn't know how deep this rabbit hole would go, but she would see the End; she just prayed to the gods that she was wrong. If she wasn't, neither The Old Gods nor The Seven could save you, Lord Eddard Stark from the Fire of House Targaryen.
Jon Snow
Waking up, his upper body rising, he closed his eyes, trying to remove the image on his eyes, a bed full of blood, a woman crying out a name he didn't recognize, a man covered in shadows forcefully grabbing a baby from the mother, as she begged for him not to harm him, the man whose face was engulfed in darkness, looked at the baby with disgust.
"He's just like them, just like him," he spat, raising his hand holding a dagger, plunging it down; the blood flew across the walls as the woman let out the most horrifying scream that Jon had ever heard.
Feeling that he wouldn't sleep like this, Jon stood up, wearing his cloth before leaving the tent, now much closer to the main camp of the Free Folk.
Jon walked around, ignoring the harsh wind hitting him square in the face; it had been three months since he killed the leader of the Thenn people; they had agreed to become allies and acknowledge Jon as a Great Warrior.
But Jon knew the truth, he had used Warging to win, cheating, but that didn't really bother the bastard; when it came to a fight for life or death, only a fool would die because of Honor.
After the brutal fight, Tormund had tried to convince him to drink milk again; thank the gods, Val had been there to tell him to fuck off somewhere.
Walking up to the edge of the camp, his eyes looking at the horizon far away, North and further North, all he could see was darkness beyond, a place from where no one could return, a place where it is said that not even a Dragon could fly to, engulfed by magic, some said it was because of the Children of the Forest, but no one really knew, with all things he had seen, Jon wondered if the Children of The Forest still existed somewhere.
Hearing footsteps behind, Jon turned to see Val walking up to him, a beautiful smile on her face.
"Val?"
"What are you doing here, Snow? Thinking of going to The Heart of the Winter?" She asked teasingly before shivering, the hoodie covering most of her face.
"Watching," Jon replied, walking closer to her.
"Watching What?" Val questioned; Jon said nothing, the wildling woman saw him with a melancholy look on his face. She heard a cry of a crow but paid it no attention.
Raising his left arm, he pointed his index finger at the horizon in front of them, where nothing alive can survive.
"There, our Enemies are there, beyond the fog, beyond the frozen land; if we kill all our enemies, will we truly be Safe," Jon questioned with sadness seeping into his voice.
Val truthfully didn't know the answer to that; walking beside him, she grabbed his right hand with hers. "I don't know Jon, but one day together, we will be South of The Wall, and we will be happy, knowing The Others are no More. I promise," she said before resting her head on his shoulder as the sun started rising on the horizon. A new Day has Arrived.
