74

Summary:

Jon and his companions gather all that yet live and return to Osgiliath to prepare for the Journey North, while in Westeros an old Lord reveals himself and his scheme to win the favour of the Black Dragon.

Notes:

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(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Verily as their troth was plighted, Jon looked upon withered Nimloth, and to his astonishment, there sat a silver blossom on the lowest limb Shiera and Ashara gazed at him, no doubt wondering what had drawn his gaze until they too saw the silvery flower.

'Here, a sign from the Valar… Hope is not lost, my loves,' Jon said, taking the flower with reverence.

'What shall you do with that flower, beloved?' Ashara questioned gaily as she clung to Shiera.

'I shall set it in imperishable crystal, and perhaps it shall be an heirloom of our house in the years hence,' Jon said, handing the flower to Shiera, who took it graciously, her eyes wet with tears.

'Jon?' Shiera asked, glancing at that flower in her hands with reverence.

'I'll set it in crystal when we return to Annuminas; for now, I shall leave it in your keeping... My silver dragon...' Jon said, kissing her once more.

'Aha, do not disregard me, my dearest Jon,' Ashara said, breaking away from Shiera and claiming his lips greedily.

They knew not how long they tarried in those gardens, yet duty demanded they return, so with lightened hearts, Shiera and Ashara renewed the healing of those who may yet live and granted Eru's mercy to those who would not live through the night while Jon sought to rejoin Isildur's party.

In that moment, he felt a warm presence and was greeted by the sight of his dearest Galadriel though her glittering eyes betrayed her frustration as this was hardly the time to bare their love to the world.

He looked at her and smiled. 'The day will come when we can show our love shall bloom beneath the sun, my beloved… this I vow….'

'Indeed, my dearest wolf,' said Galadriel. 'One part of our journey is over, and now comes the most trying task; we must help the survivors settle in Minas Anor and follow Isildur northward.'

Jon agreed and wrapped his arm around hers and approached Isildur, who stood admiring his blade most keenly, no doubt desiring a row of orc necks to sharpen its edge; indeed, his son's were of a mind with their father, save Elendur, whose countenance was grim no doubt considering how best to wage this war.

Truly Elendur seemed among his brothers in his strength and wisdom, and his majesty without pride, one of the greatest, the fairest of the seed of Elendil, most like to his grandsire.

It was then his eyes fell upon the soldiery that had accompanied him, and to his horror, he felt the presence of two who should yet remain in Osgiliath.

'It seems both were too stubborn, My Wolf, but they are safe; that is what matters. However, I fear the youngest one will need you.' Galadriel said darkly.

'Undoubtedly, their skill in battle was splendid, but that will not save them from my wrath.' Jon growled, Galadriel did her best to comfort him as they neared the soldiers who, upon seeing them, bowed in reverence, but he cared not for pleasantries; no, Jon's eye was drawn to two knights, the one taller clad in a suit of plate the other in mail and leather alas as they neared the mystery knights they thought to hide among the rabble.

'Men bar those two from leaving. I would have words with them.' Jon demanded grimly, and the soldiers heeding their Prince prevented their two companions from passing, compelling the reluctant knights to stand before them.

'You should take off your helmets… My Ladies,' Said the Daughter of Finarfin mournfully.

Conceding that they had been caught, they cast down the helms of their secrecy, and their tresses, freed from their bonds fell about their shoulders.

Before them stood his sister and cousin, their fair faces marred by blood and grim though Rhaenys stood proud, his eyes fell upon Arya; she was frightened, her eyes wet with tears and her form shaking like a withered tree in a strong wind.

'Oh, Arya… Not only did you fight in a real battle for the first time, but you saw the aberrations the Great Enemy created and that Sauron now commands… What madness led you to such folly?… Jon thought sadly.

'Jon…' Rhaenys and Arya said sweetly, no doubt hoping to soften his heart. Rightly Galadriel laughed at their foolishness, and both women glared at her ruefully.

'How did you learn it was us, brother?' Rhaenys questioned nervously.

'I gleaned your intentions ere we departed though I had hoped you would realise your folly, yet it seems I was mistaken,' Jon said, glancing at them in dismay.

'I told you, Jon!... I'm no meek maiden who will hide behind High Walls while my Husband marches off to war!' Rhaenys roared furiously; such was the uproar that a crowd had gathered, led by Isildur and his sons, who eyed Rhaenys warily.

'I seem to remember that my orders were that you both stay in Osgiliath to prepare for our departure to Arnor; what shall you say in your defence?...' Jon said dangerously, disregarding his sister's ire.

'I'm sorry... I'm so sorry,' Arya said, still crying and shaking, casting down her reddened eyes.

'I'm not one of your servants, dear brother; you would do well to remember that.' Rhaenys replied proudly.

'That is true, but I am the Lord of Osgiliath, and my decrees will be heeded, Rhaenys! undoubtedly our grandmother will be worried sick about your disappearance… And Arya, Sansa will be worried about you; why did you defy me?' Jon said disappointedly, and both women looked quite remorseful.

'Forgive me, Jon… I thought, I thought after all I had endured those many years ago, I had seen the greatest wickedness of man… And I was wrong… No, I should have not come here; I saw those monsters,' Arya wailed, throwing herself at Jon, and he did not refuse her holding her close as she sobbed into his chest.

'Arya, Arya!' Ashara cried mournfully: 'Arya, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this?

'I'm sorry, Ashara...' Arya said, returning the hug between tears.

'Oh, silly girl… what are you doing here?… why have you girded yourself as a knight?' Ashara asked, her eyes alight with rage.

'I... I just... I desired to prove my valour in battle... I knew not what devilry awaited me, Orcs, trolls and those Black Riders... who sought me throughout the battle,' Arya said, quivering with dread as she recalled them black mantled, huge and threatening inducing madness wherever they trode... Undoubtedly, if Ashara's and Shiera's dragons hadn't begun wreaking havoc among the Orcs, the pair would've surely claimed her head.

'This young lady stood before one of the Nine, and yet she did not succumb to madness….' Elendur said, impressed.

'Our men spoke of three riders who accompanied the Orcs; one of them was the Witch King who fled the battle when the dragons came… So this must have been his companion… You have a stout heart, young lady, to stand before the Ringwraiths.' Isildur said, amazed by the young girls' courage.

'What else happened, Arya?' Jon questioned, worried, while Ashara held Arya as if she were her kin.

'Nothing… The figure, the Nazgûl… He fled though many men fell upon their swords or flung themselves into dragons fire… I believe the dragons frightened him greatly,' Arya said calmly.

'Oh, my sweet girl….' Shiera said, gently patting Arya's head to the young wolf's vexation.

Slowly Isildur approached him, his eyes ever leaving the withered figure of Arya. 'This young woman has already paid dearly for her disobedience Jon; she now knows the horrors of battle keenly and stood before the foul dwimmerlaik who serve him... she has suffered great torment. I would ask you not burden her further.' Isildur said compassionately though Jon remained silent

'Arya… You disobeyed me and exposed yourself to the horrors of the Dark Tower; you've journeyed far and long, seeing firsthand the horrors men may inflict upon one another for a mere whim… had our dragons not caused such a furor on the battlefield... you would have perished at the hands of Úlairi merely for your eagerness to show your strength at arms' Jon said sternly, and Arya lowered her proud eyes in shame.

Ashara tried to speak in Arya's defence, but she was swiftly silenced by Jon's cold eyes.

'Still… You fought bravely, accomplishing great deeds in service of the House of Anárion though I shall not speak ill as I was much the same when I marched to war.' Jon said, recalling the battle of Castle Hasty many years ago.

'Oooh…' Arya said hopefully and happy that her worth was recognised and Jon wouldn't punish her.

'I haven't the time to think of suitable punishment, so I'll leave it for another time; well done, Arya.' Jon said, ruffling her hair like when she was a child, knowing that it would vex her and his cousin endeavoured to bite his fingers, causing those attending to chortle merrily.

'Foolish cousin…' Arya growled while Rhaenys and Jon chortled at her reddened countenance.

'Arya… You must go with Ashara and Shiera.' Jon said, glancing at Ashara, who nodded.

'Well, it was amusing… But there is a great deal of labour to do and little time to do it,' Shiera said tiredly.

'Indeed... Thank you my Lady, and to you as well, Lady Ashara,' Isildur said, grateful for the help of the healers.

'You're welcome, King Isildur... though I would beg a favour of you,' Shiera said merrily, and many stared at her queerly save Jon, who grumbled, knowing what his dragon would ask.

'Of course... you merely have to name it my Lady...' Isildur said, surprised and Shiera smiled mischievously.

'And name it I shall,' Shiera said, revealing the silvery blossom of Nimloth to the astonished assemblage many thought Isildur may refuse, yet the oaths of Westernesse are not given lightly, and the King laughed cheerily.

'Very well, I offer it gladly as a symbol of friendship between our houses. I can think of none better to carry the last bloom of fair Nimloth in these dark days.'

'Oh… Thank you, my King!' Shiera said happily, her eyes alight with wonderment.

'Father…' Ciryon said, astonished by his father's gift to the Westerosi Lady but chose to remain silent.

'Now this business has been settled, I think it best we tend to the soldiers; come Shiera, there is healing that needs doing...you too, Arya,' Ashara said, and thus they departed for the houses of healing accompanied by a much happier Arya who began to badger Shiera with all manner of questions regarding the silvered blossom.

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After many hours the last of those who needed healing were tended to. The maidens of Minas Ithil revealed themselves; chief among them was Berendreth, wife of Isildur, seldom had Jon seen her but she was a great beauty. Blue was her raiment as the unclouded heaven, but her eyes were grey as the starlit evening; her mantle was sewn with golden flowers, and her hair was dark as the shadows of twilight.

She was accompanied by her Companion Ladies who, with the approval of their Lady, left to look for their loved ones among the wounded, she would have no doubt have tended to the soldiery as well, but Jon reckoned that she desired to see her husband. Indeed he was proven right when she rushed to meet them, though her joyous expression soured upon seeing him arm in arm with his beloved Galadriel; Berendreth glowered at her husband, who swiftly ran to escort her to embrace her.

'Queen Berendreth...' Jon said, bowing as he concealed a smile... Isildur was also ruled by his wife.

'Prince Jon... Lady Galadriel,' Lady Berendreth said courteously, incapable of hiding her shock since she never imagined seeing the Lady of Belfalas there, much less seeing her dressed for war.

'Greetings Berendreth, Daughter of Targelion...' Galadriel said, nodding.

'I did not expect to see you here, my Lady, and less so girded for war,' Berendreth said, eyeing the silvery spear in admiration.

'My soldiers desired to come and honour our old alliances...' Said Galadriel, who swiftly assaulted the mind of her beloved as she heard his laughter; she cared little for humour at her expense.

It was then Arya and Rhaenys had returned, and Jon deemed it best to present them to the Queen before they made fools of themselves. 'Queen Berendreth, with me are my sister Rhaenys and my cousin Arya...' Said Jon giving both of them a look of warning that he would abide a lack of decorum, so they curtsied and paid paean to the Queen of the West

'It is a pleasure to meet you, Queen Berendreth!' Rhaenys said nervously.

'The Ladies Ashara and Shiera accompanied us as well, though at this moment they are tending to the last of the wounded,' Jon said, and the Queen smiled.

'I thank you for your aid again, Jon; we would have surely perished if you and your dragons had not come; praise the Valar for your aid.' Said the Queen leaning on her husband.

'It's a pleasure, my Lady... We only do our duty...' Jon said.

Berendreth thanked them for their aid once more and set out to help as she may all the while, Ashara and Shiera questioned her regarding her pregnancy; on more than one occasion, they cast their eyes upon him and laughed though the Queen was none the wiser it filled Jon with a feeling of discomfiture.

Rhaenys, Arya and Galadriel guessed the reason and chortled good naturedly... though they thought he had forgotten in what manner he may punish them yet.

'Laugh as you may… We'll see who laughs last.' Jon thought happily.

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At last, the day of departure came, and a great and fair company made ready to ride West from the City; those too injured to walk were laid upon wains drawn by horses with the soldiers of Osgiliath all about them; They passed through Ithilien weary of heart but in good spirits; in the middle of the throng was the royal Wheelhouse where Isildur's wife and her Ladies went as it would do little good for such ladies to travel on horse or foot, Galadriel too accompanied the Queen at her request and the Elves who followed her as they wished their lady to travel in the greatest comfort.

While Jon agreed, Galadriel had hoped to ride beside him, although she vowed to put the time to good use weaving for him a new tunic, something that he gladly accepted.

Though his beloved wasn't alone, for he had confined Rhaenys and Arya to the wheelhouse where they would aid her in knitting as good Ladies should, something both begged him to forgo the punishment, but he was having none of it and gave them a simple choice to act as ladies for a mere two moons or tarry at the rear of the army when they departed for Arnor tending the cattle and pigs.

And so it was that his cousin and sister were clad in the garb of Westernesse such was their loveliness that many a foolhardy man and Elf thought to court them, undoubtedly if one could slay a man by looks alone, he would have been slain, but he knew they would seek revenge.

Well… Let them try… They are predictable.

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After three days, they at last stood before the walls of Osgiliath just as the moon gave way to the sun, and the weary host rejoiced to see before them the great City of their Kingdom, and all hoped to soothe their wearied hearts.

'We're finally here…' Jon said, raising his horn and blowing a great blast, and straightaway, it was welcomed by several blasts in return.

'Indeed, I shall expect some whiskey and perhaps a massage for the hardships I faced,' Galadriel said. Jon knew she spoke truly as spending some two days in a carriage with his squabbling kin had been rather amusing for a time, yet it grew wearisome, and she thought it best to spend what time she could with her wolf ere the war began.

Many men rejoiced when they laid eyes upon the Capital of their kingdom though as Isildur neared the walls, he thought them odd it had been many years since he had come to the City; when last he was here, the walls weren't so thick nor so lofty doubtless they no longer gleamed as silver but rather like the embers of a dying flame.

'What has happened to the wall of Osgiliath?' Isildur wondered, trotting alongside Jon and Galadriel.

'I had them strengthened with the dwarven arts'...' Jon said, proud of his skill in masonry.

'Truly?' Isildur asked.

'Aye, the Dwarves of the White Mountains owned me many boons for my aid in years long past, and I thought it best to strengthen the defences of our chiefest City should Sauron ever rise against us... and it seems my forethought was wise indeed there are no who may now breach these walls save Aule himself,' Jon said merrily, and Galadriel beamed, pleased her beloved had put his skills to use.

'Splendid, simply splendid.' Isildur said suddenly. 'I look forward to seeing how fair you shall make our City in the years to come; this is wonderful.'

'Thank you, King Isildur; I hope to serve the realm ably for many years though it seems we must greet our visitors,' Jon said as they arrived before the gates.

They were greeted by men clad in silvered plate and mail, each bearing the banner of Anárion, a white tree in blossom beneath seven stars; to Jon's astonishment, there to were the banners of Stark, Targaryen, Finwë and Finarfin though of lesser importance than that of the King.

'It seems my brother rode like wind across the plains to come here so swiftly,' Isildur said, pleased.

'It's a glorious welcome,' Galadriel said, merrily hoping to glimpse the sword her husband had forged for Anárion.

'Let us greet our guest,' Jon said, glimpsing the Anduin's swift currents coming to the city ferrying those who had journeyed by boat to the Garth, 'Praised be to you, Lord Ulmo, for watching over us.'

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The citizenry greeted them happily, throwing flowers and making merriment joyful to see their Prince and King returned from battle; they rode through the winding streets and came at last to the Palace, where a great host assembled to greet them.

Leading the host were Rhaella, Arianne, and the rest of his lady loves; alongside them stood the council of the City, and lastly, there stood Anárion, who was accompanied by his wife, three daughters and his only son Meneldil.

Indeed it came as quite a surprise to Jon that his closest friend was married as the Queen rarely showed herself preferring instead to tend to her gardens and books. He had only met her a handful of times, yet she made an excellent impression each time Elirien was her name, and through many ages, she was kin to Vëantur, who was Captain of the King's Ships and possessed all the beauty and dignity that distinguished House very fair was her face, and her long hair was like a river of jet. Slender and tall she was, but strong she seemed and stern as steel, a daughter of kings.

Together the couple had four children; the three daughters, Tindomiel, Irilde and Miriel, each a charming woman and sought after greatly by the men of Gondor, and while the girls would return northwards, he feared the Melendil and his mother would remain at Anárion's side.

Jon put aside those dark thoughts and, together with Galadriel and Isildur, went to greet Anárion and his family.

'Oh, my beloved Wolf, I fear many of these faces will never be seen again after Sauron is defeated.' Galadriel said mournfully, and Jon nodded. 'I fear you speak truly, my dearest Star.'

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'Welcome everyone, brother, Lady Galadriel… Prince Jon,' Anárion said, looking at everyone with happiness, but his friends' eyes narrowed when they landed upon him, and he knew well the reason.

He had disobeyed his King to go to Minas Ithil to defy the enemy; doubtless, Anárion hoped to find him here when he arrived and must have been bitterly surprised to discover that he had gone to battle; no doubt Anárion had informed his father, and that filled Jon with fear.

King Elendil would surely punish him for his disobedience, but those thoughts were swiftly quashed when Isildur dismounted his mare and spoke.

'Peace brother, Jon and his men aided us to break the siege of Minas Ithil. Had he not come, I would have surely perished. The enemy sent forth many evils, not just orcs but goblins and trolls; even the Black Riders rode forth to see our City brought low… And he succeeded,' Isildur said wistfully, and Anárion embraced him.

'I know, brother; however, our father is a proud man when he feels he should be and holds little love for those who defy him, as you well know,' Anárion said with a smile, recalling his father's rage when he found out that Isildur went to Armenelos to recover a sapling of Nimloth before the tree was felled.

'I know... But I'll still try to quell our father's wrath,' Isildur groaned, remembering his father's pridefulness. Jon dismounted Lòmerocco and went to greet his old friend.

'It is not necessary; I knew well what awaited me when I defied your father... Whatever punishment he gives me, I will accept it,' Jon said, resigned, and the brothers nodded.

'Well met Jon, I must thank you for saving my brother and his family... and it's an honour to see you again, my Lady,' Anárion said, bowing to the Daughter of Finarfin, who smiled and offered Jon her hand so she may dismount her mare.

'Greetings, Anárion, Son of Elendil… Your welcome is splendid, and although I enjoy the gatherings between our peoples, I am afraid that this is not one of those occasions; time is short, and our road is long… Elendil must be waiting for us in the North,' Galadriel said, and all heeded her words.

'Your words are true, my Lady... We will remain here just long enough for our troops to rest and the wounded to heal, then we will go north with my father...' Isildur said.

'Our father is marshalling his troops, brother; he wagers it shall take near a year to prepare Arnor for war. He has also sent emissaries to Gil-Galad, who is marshalling all Noldor that yet dwell in these lands,' Said Anárion, his voice hard as iron.

'That is good, thanks to the mastery of Ladies Shiera and Ashara as well, many lives thought lost shall now see another day though many are wearied thankfully the Anduin was peaceful which is odd as its water are often swift and strong,' Isildur said remembering with wonder how the river had given them aid.

'Aye, my friends, the Lords of the West bless our company, and the Lord of the Waters has given us his aid, though my heart tells me that we should no longer hope more help in this company... the rest depends on all of us,' Jon said, and the brothers agreed.

'Come, the Houses of Healing will care for all those who may still need aid; they must rest and prepare for their departure... The servants will see to it they shall want for nothing,' Anárion said, and they all entered the chamber of the council to plan the journey north and the defence of the City.

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As they entered the chambers, he suddenly heard a melodious laugh and soon felt an elf's embrace, and the smell of lilacs permeated the air.

'Oh, my Nin Mel… You're back,' Lalwen said happily, resting her face on his chest, knowing full well she wished to arouse Galadriel's ire.

'Lalwen...' Jon said, laying a kiss upon her brow while Galadriel held his arm forcefully.

They soon heard familiar voices drawing near, and he was swiftly surrounded by his lady loves, who wept in happiness to see he was unharmed and safe.

'Oh, my dearest wolf... You're finally back,' Arianne said, happy to see her lover returned though she was wholly displeased with how Lawlen clung to him.

'Yes, my beloved Dornish Star... I'm back,' Jon said, beaming, yet the mood swiftly soured when Rhaella spoke. 'Minas Ithil was razed to the ground?' Rhaella asked, and he nodded.

A cold silence filled the room, and all happiness seemed forgotten.

'Sauron desired to extinguish the line of Nimloth and seize the city's palantíri ; at least he didn't claim the latter', Jon said with a sigh.

'We heeded your orders, nephew, and are ready to leave when Isildur commands it,' Daenerys said happily.

But at that moment, Sansa stepped forward. 'Jon… Rhaenys and Arya disappeared,' Sansa said, though much to her astonishment, her cousin seemed little worried and merely laughed boisterously, so much so that tears fell from his eyes even the Lady Galadriel was smiling at her oddly.

'What's wrong, Jon?' Sansa said, vexed her cousin would laugh while her sister was missing

'Think nothing of it, Sansa... Arya and Rhaenys are well... They are in the company of Isildur's wife,' Jon said, sufficing Sansa and Rhaella with comfort though this was swiftly quashed when they heard curses and yells coming from the wheelhouse.

As soon as the door was opened, out came Rhaenys and Arya, led by Shiera and Ashara; at first, none could figure the cause for such anger, then they glimpsed that both were dressed in fine silks and jewels indeed, they looked akin to proper ladies something all well knew those two despised greatly.

Upon seeing them, Arianne and Írimë burst into laughter.

'I assume this was your doing,' Rhaella said, struggling to hold in her laughter.

'I thought they deserved punishment for their disobedience, and I'm satisfied, but I don't think Ashara has finished off Arya, and I suspect you aren't finished with Rhaenys, Grandmother,' Jon said with a devilish smile.

'You assume well, Baelon... That girl will listen to me... While she spends the next few weeks weaving until we depart for Arnor,' Rhaella said, her eyes glinting evilly.

'I'll leave it in your hands, grandmother... Though don't be cruel, for she vied with many companies of Orcs and Trolls indeed Arya was forced to contend with one of the Black Riders though he laid no hand upon her, she felt his black breath yet he fled when our dragons came...' Jon said darkly, provoking great fear to grip their hearts.

'Oh...' Sansa said worriedly

'Two of the Nazgûl in Sauron's first attack?' Daenerys asked fearfully; she had never laid eyes upon the chiefest servants of the Dark Lord, nor did she have any desire to mighty though she had become few could contend with those fallen Kings of Men.

'I'm afraid so, Dany, I know not what Sauron is plotting, but we must prepare ourselves... Lalwen, please, my love, I need to move...' Jon said sadly.

'I don't want to... I've been so worried about you and Artanis... You won't deny me this moment of peace Nin Mel' Said the Princess of the Noldor like a little girl burying her face in his chest again, and Jon was well aware of the envy Lalwen's actions provoked among the others, chiefly Galadriel, who clutched his arm ever tighter.

'By Erú, I must free myself before losing an arm,' Jon thought, troubled by the strength with which an envious Galadriel held his arm. It was then he heard the shrieks of Arya and Rhaenys as they were dragged by their ears and sat before the council, both looking wholly displeased.

For a few moments, nought was said, and all were content to admire their beauty though his dearest Lalwen, at last, broke the silence.

'Oh, Rhaenys, what a surprise, dressed that way, you almost look like a woman instead of a beast,' Lalwen said mockingly as Rhaenys reddened; she looked such a fool, and she knew it.

'Arya…' Sansa said, in a sing-song voice plainly delighted by her sister's discomfort though Arya just looked at her, embarrassed and then she glanced at him with bitterness endeavouring to strike him despite the fact that Írimë still clung to him and Galadriel was on his arm.

'Arya!' Jon growled at Arya's attempts to hit him, not caring that she might hit Lalwen and Galadriel in the process.

'Silence, foolish ass!... I had to knit endlessly for two days with those women and wear this absurd dress for you...' Arya said before being moved away by an amused but embarrassed Ashara, who again grabbed her ear.

'Enough Arya, stupid girl, you're still in trouble… Don't make it worse by making a scene in front of Kings Isildur and Anárion,' Ashara said furiously when she saw all eyes were on them.

Rhaenys eyed Írimë evilly. 'Stay away from my brother Witch!'

Írimë laughed. 'Make me beastly woman...' separating herself from him, she stood before his sister, no doubt eager to fight.

'ENOUGH!' Jon shouted such was his anger that it was less a shout, more a howl of rage, and all fled his side even Galadriel pulled Írimë back, afraid her wolf would lose himself.

'Nin Mel?' Írimë asked nervously.

'Rhaenys, Arya, at this moment, we are at war with the Dark Lord and losing valuable time in your foolishness. You disobeyed me and paid the price, but seemingly, you did not learn, so from this day until the day of our departure, you shall clean the stables and attend to the kennels of the Dome of the Stars if any would challenge my word to speak now' Jon said though such was his anger that none questioned him.

Arya and Rhaenys were trembling with fear? Anger? Frustration? ... Plainly, they didn't desire to relent to such an unworthy punishment, but they knew they had made him furious with their nonsense.

At that moment, Anárion took pity on them and bid Jon to accompany him. He nodded and turned to leave but not before giving his cousin and sister a look of warning. 'Your punishment will end when I see you have learned humility... Knowing Arianne, she will have prepared some sort of Celebration, so I think it best we let cooler heads prevail.' Jon said, bidding his lovers farewell before joining Anárion and Isildur.

'Splendid work, you simpering fools, ' Shiera said reproachfully, looking at Írimë, Arya and Rhaenys.

'I have never seen Nin Mel so furious,' Lalwen said fearfully.

'I had never seen him angry with any of us... Well, if you'll excuse me...I've many things to attend to,' Arianne said, shooting Rhaenys an evil glare before departing the hall.

'These two fools woke the dragon.' Daenerys moaned with annoyance.

'It's natural… with all that has happened as of late, our wolf is facing a great deal of strife… My Ladies must act according to their station,' Galadriel said, glowering at them.

'But we didn't...' Rhaenys began.

'It's your temper Rhaenys and yours too, Arya Stark... you're not little girls anymore, yet you act as squabbling children... you embarrassed Jon before the Lords of the West, ' said Rhaella looking at her granddaughter with disappointment.

'Not to mention that both of them had earned that punishment... Arya, you are no longer a girl; you're near a hundred and twenty-one namedays; you must behave as such,' Ashara said, glowering at the youngest of her adopted daughters with disappointment, and Arya lowered her head in shame.

At that moment, Ashara whispered words only Galadriel and Írimë could hear.

'Do you think I don't comprehend why Jon won't take you as a lover? If you want him to see you as a woman, you should cease behaving like a girl,' Ashara whispered to a surprised Arya.

'Rhaenys… I'm disappointed in you, you just made a fool of yourself in front of the entire city, and you've embarrassed our House,' Rhaella said evilly, her amethyst eyes glittering dangerously.

'But grandmother…' Rhaenys said, but Rhaella silenced her.

'No, no, Rhaenys… I grow weary of your excuses; There shall be no punishment save the one Jon gave you... I will say no more on the matter, it's been centuries, yet you still act as a beast… for the sake of our House, stop acting as a fool; you're a dragon,' Rhaella said before turning on her heel and following after her grandson leaving Rhaenys to weep in shame.

Seeing Arya and Rhaenys being reprimanded, Írimë felt a pang of guilt and lowered her head, speaking to her niece through her will.

'Mayhaps I have gone too far with these childish games, ' Írimë said.

'I think you should learn from what happened to our beloved fool's cousin and half-sister, aunt.; Galadriel said serenely.

'Yes, I will,' Írimë said, ashamed of her behaviour as Arya and Rhaenys.

'Soon we shall leave for the North though I pray the Stone Kingdom shall endure,' Galadriel said suddenly, looking at Jon, who was speaking with Anárion, while Rhaella spoke with Isildur, all while she and her aunt listened intently. Her dearest was weary from the battle, yearning for the peace of his younger years and her heart ached as she knew this war would change Jon in many ways, none for the better, though.

--------------------------------

As day gave way to night, they enjoyed the fruits of Arianne's labours, fresh meats, fine wine and pastries of flavours unnumbered after a time; Berendreth and Elirien retired, and they took this as a sign to begin the council food was hastily cleared from the table, and many torches were brought in along with maps, ink and parchment.

Once all were seated, and wine had been brought, Isildur and his son Elendur recounted all that happened during the siege, and with each word, the Dunedain grew furious many muttered oaths of vengeance.

Once Isildur finished his story Jon focused his eyes on the maps on the table.

'Very well, then, King Anárion, is there news of High King Elendil?' Jon asked as his friend shook his head.

'No, my father hasn't sent new decrees. I'd wager he is gathering as many men as able and preparing the City for siege should the war turn against us, nor has he made any mention of you, Jon,' Anárion said thoughtfully.

'Well…' Jon said with relief to the amusement of many in the room while Lord Azrubên grumbled in vexation.

King Elendil had forbidden him to go to Minas Ithil, ordering him instead to prepare the march of his troops and make the City ready for Anárion… And Jon had disobeyed him… Elendil would not forgive such waywardness; he would flog him without a doubt.

Seeing Jon's expression, Isildur put a hand on his shoulder.

'Don't worry, my friend; I will tell my father about your feats of courage and how our capital has prospered under your rule. He shall not seek to punish one who has served him so faithfully,' Isildur promised, and Jon smiled all the while his loves laughed at his solace.

'Aye, when I had arrived and saw the many wonders in the armoury, I was speechless; alas, had time not been so short, I would decree all soldiers of Gondor be clad in such vestments,' Anárion said dreamily, still in wonder of the armaments of war.

'My brother speaks truly; the arts you've learned are a great boon to our people. I hope that when the war is over, we may raise such walls throughout the realm.' Isildur said, looking at him happily.

'As my Kings order...' Jon said wearily. Galadriel and Írimë looked at each other and smiled maliciously, incapable of controlling their desire to mock their beloved a little.

'Surely Elendil will desire fortifications in Arnor, Jon...' Írimë said gleefully, and his lady loves howled in laughter all the while the men and elves looked at them queerly.

Why would the Prince of Osgiliath not desire to construct such wonders for Arnor?

Only the Councilors of Osgiliath, as well as his family and lovers, knew how challenging it was to raise such walls in so short a time.

'Lord Elrond would greatly appreciate if you fortified Imladris Prince Jon, and I would ever be in your debt knowing my beloved daughter was guarded by walls of Valyrian make,' Galadriel said, earning his gaze, but she merely smiled though it was a false one and her wolf knew as such.

Indeed, Jon could not refuse in front of the Council of Osgiliath, and all knew as such.

'You and… Lalwen are going to pay for this… You'll see; I won't forget this,' Said Jon, glowering at his Star, yet he heard nought but her melodious laughter.

'Oh, my silly Wolf, I thought you would be pleased to build fortresses was it not for this reason you spent so many years among the Dwarves.' Galadriel said, feigning astonishment.

'I shall do as you bid my Ladies though it shall have to wait for war is upon us….' Jon said bitterly as Isildur and Anárion looked at him in confusion.

'As you wish, Jon… Although I think you should be more proud of your creations if our father had known what you would create here… I'd wager he never would have let you depart the North,' Anárion said, laughing.

'Indeed, any creation fashioned by your hands is one of great beauty such as the sword you gave me,' said Isildur, proudly revealing his new sword and all marvelled at its silvery glow.

'It's a beautiful sword, brother… So this is Dragon Steel…' Anárion said, enthralled with his brother's sword.

'It is, forged by the hands of our great friend and splendid armourer... Uniting not only that mysterious metal but also embellished and strengthened it with the arts of the Eldar and the Dwarves,' Isildur said, returning the blade to its scabbard.

'Father speaks truly. Uncle Jon fashioned blades for each of us; they are light and their edge keen, and each shines as the moon upon a starless night,' Elendur said happily as he and his brothers unsheathed their swords before the astonished council.

Upon seeing the blades, all those present were enchanted by their beauty, begging to hold them and perhaps test their edge for a moment, Jon perceived Anárion's envy, and he smiled, glancing towards Galadriel; he begged one of her men. His beloved Star nodded and swiftly called over one of her captains, who bowed in reverence.

'Go to the armoury and seek the parcel that lay within.' Said Jon, 'And be swift boy lest I invite Ghost and his kin in here for a hunt.'

Hearing Jon order the Elf to retrieve something from the armoury, Anárion seemed quite pleased akin to a cat given a ball of string.

Though none save Galadriel and Rhaella noticed the sobering countenance of their love.

Why is my Wolf so fearful about one of his own creations?' Galadriel thought; a quick glance to her aunt showed she was of the same mind.

After several minutes the young Elf returned bearing a large parcel of cloth which he set upon the table before bowing and returning to his place beside his kin, and suddenly all eyes were upon the parcel as many knew a weapon of great magnificence lay inside.

'This is a gift, Anárion… and a symbol of the bond between our houses…though you must be mindful of the blades might,' Jon said before removing the cloth to reveal the gift for the King.

It was a sword, the sister sword of Ithiel, but there was something queer about that scabbard; while Ithiel had a lavish and jewelled scabbard, the sheath of this blade was fashioned from a coppery leather that felt odd to the touch.

'Dragon scales...' Jon said, answering the question that none dared to ask

'Did you fashion this scabbard from Vhagar's scales?' Rhaella asked indignantly, feeling her grandson held little respect for his dragon.

'Aye, dragons like many scaled beasts shed their skin when it is of little use to them seemingly; our dragons are such creatures as their scales hold many uses,' Jon said wearily.

'uses?' Anáron asked, intrigued by his gift.

'It is unsusceptible to heat', Galadriel answered, suddenly though she had peered into Jon's mind and wondered why her love would forge such a weapon.

'This is my gift to you, King Anárion, the sister sword of Ithiel... I name her Anariel, The daughter of the Sun, Jon, said, handing the sword to Anárion, who took it graciously and drew it from its scabbard; the blade was the twin of Ithiel, save that the blade was etched with a rayed sun, yet it appeared wholly unremarkable.

While Isildur's sword gave off a luminous glow as if moonlight had been captured in the blade, Anárion's sword gave off no light at all and certainly did not possess its sisters' beauty; it was as if it were merely a common sword forged of pure gold although on its blade there was a message in Quenya as on her sister's blade.

I am the glimmer of the Sun, and my kiss is sharp and burning, flee from me, oh servants of the shadow.

Seeing it, Anárion and his family put on a disappointed expression as they saw that the sword apparently had nothing extraordinary.

However, Galadriel, Írimë perceived that there was something in that sword; it gave off a feeling of fear, hatred and thirst for blood… Like that of Gurthang.

'Your intellect is keen, my Star, and you are correct, Anariel, is deadlier than her sister… If it were not for the premonition of my heart, I would not give this sword to Anárion… In fact, the connection between Ithiel and Anariel is like that between Sansa and Arya.' Jon said, glancing at his creation with mistrust.

'Oh my foolish wolf, forging a weapon such as this… you have proven yourself equal to my kin Celebrimbor when he was master of Eregion.' Galadriel said with pride, though she was somewhat concerned by the blade's malevolence.

'I know, my lovely foolish star,' Jon thought before his mind was assaulted by her magic. 'I'm not foolish, Jon,' Said Galadriel, reddening in embarrassment.

'By the gods, what is this heat' Sansa grumbled, suddenly reaching for a tankard of wine.

'Is something amiss, Sansa?' Ashara asked, who suddenly felt hot as well.

'I suddenly felt parched,' Sansa said, fanning herself and soon, the whole hall was suffocated in the sweltering heat.

'By Eru this heat… Where does it come from?' Shiera said, starting to fan herself before casting aside her cloak, and soon others had done the same as the whole hall felt as a dwarven kiln; his dear Lawlen even darted behind him, hoping to hide her embarrassment as she had sweated through her silks.

'Where does this heat come from?' Arianne asked, using a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off her forehead.

'I don't feel anything….' Daenerys said with a proud smile while the others eyed her resentfully.

At that moment, Isildur and Anárion had guessed the source of the heat the terrible warmth came from the sword.

 'By the Valar, Jon… what is this sword you have given me?' Anárion asked, now looking at his new sword warily.

'While your brother's sword captures and reflects the moonlight, it seems that this blade is sufficed with the heat of its making,' Jon said with a sigh.

'How is it possible?' Isildur asked, glancing at that sword earnestly.

'Unfortunately... I know very little about my own creation... Only when I was tempering the sword I left it in the morning sun, much as I did with Ithiel, I learned of the technique while studying Enerdhil's notes, only that the process was devised for light from the moon and stars... It was never intended for sunlight though I bid Vhagar use her flames in its creation, which undoubtedly had some mark on it,' Jon said, glancing at his creation analytically and carefully.

'By the Valar… This sword is remarkable,' Anárion said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

'Here... Keep it in its scabbard... lest you reduce us to kindling,' Jon said, concerned for his loves as none save Dany could bear such heat so swiftly Anárion stowed the blade in its scabbard, and after several moments the room became cooled once more.

'Thank you...' Arianne said gratefully.

'Think nothing of it, my beloved viper… This sword is… Troublesome, while Ithiel's blade glitters as the moon, Anariel's blade burns as the sun; its edge is so keen that it has never drawn blood though it has hewed many necks.

Anárion stared at him queerly. 'What do you mean, Jon?'

'When I finished the blade, I thought to test its bite, so I journeyed into the hinterlands until I happened upon a band of Orcs; the blade cleaved through armour and sinew as if it were parchment, yet no blood was drawn their flesh blackened and blistered as if held to the torch', Jon said worriedly looking at Anárion who examined his blade with reverence.

'And the dragon scales?' Elendur asked, guessing its usage.

'It is the only material that serves as a sheath for that sword; leather and wood were burned and did little to shield me from the heat… The sword is quite dangerous. If you don't wish to have it, I shall lock it away,' Jon said grimly.

'No, it is a glorious gift, true that I find this weapon disturbing as well as dangerous… But I would be a fool to refuse a blade so mighty… So I shall cherish it greatly,' Anárion said, casting aside his old blade and girding himself with Anariel.

'Be careful with that weapon, Anárion 'Son of Elendil'... Mighty and fiery is its edge, but there is a darkness in that weapon...' Galadriel said, gazing penetratingly at the sword

'Lady Galadriel is right… That sword has a darkness to it… Like Anguirel, it is a sword fashioned for war, and thus it yearns for the blood of foes; just as the dark heart of Eol dwells in Anguriel by some chance, Vhagar's wrath now dwells in Anariel,' Jon said, his voice cold as iron.

Jon's manner of speech was bewildering. He spoke of the blade as if it were alive.

'Can you speak with weapons, dear brother?' Rhaenys asked, unable to help but laugh at her brother's words, yet Jon seemed grim.

'Nay, I can't speak to weapons the way you imagine; ever since I reached Middle-earth, it seems that I have a gift for magic; sometimes, I can perceive the mind of a weapon first felt it when I retrieved Ghal-Maraz and again when met Lord Aule I felt the joy of them keenly as the first winds of spring, I've not the skill to perceive all before me yet when I do I may understand the heart of a weapon...' Jon said thoughtfully.

'Forgive me, brother. I did not know,' Rhaenys replied, embarrassed.

'No one knew...' Daenerys said, annoyed that Jon hid that ability.

'Indeed, I thought perhaps I was going mad; the sword that I have given you is not evil, King Anárion,' Jon said ' Yet it would be mindful not to trust it too much... Anariel longs for battle and shall ever brighter as your foes are slain.'

'I'll be wary of the blade Jon... Thank you for your gifts; Sauron shall know the resolve of the Men of Westernesse.' Said Anárion, his eyes alight in joy.

'I hope so; I know in my heart the siege of this City shall be long and terrible, yet she will endure... But now that I have provided you a weapon as mighty as your brother's, I think we best continue the council...' Jon said earnestly, returning to the maps and charts laid before them.

 'I keep an eye on Jon as often as I can spare, to forge such a weapon... It is extraordinary but dangerous. Valar only knows what other wonderful and perilous things those dragons are capable of,' Galadriel thought in earnest.

But at that time, Arya was fascinated by her beloved Jon's skill with magic, chiefly his mastery at the forge. Indeed, she had found one worthy of her love.

'If only he was willing to claim it.' Arya thought mournfully.

At first, her pride was hurt, but now she had considered all that had happened; Jon and Ashara were right. Despite her age, she still acted like the fiery youth who wished nothing more than to shirk duty and act like a scoundrel; thus, Jon treated her as a child rather than a warrior or lover.

Ashara constantly said that she looked more and more like her aunt Lyanna, and at first, Arya believed it to be a compliment, but as she learned more about her aunt, she knew she resembled her in character and personality as well, and Arya didn't want that.

She didn't want to be like her aunt Lyanna, who did whatever she wanted, damning the outcomes indeed; Arya rather abhorred her aunt for the foolishness of her actions; thousands perished all for the sake of a prophecy, yet such idiocy made Jon, so it wasn't all bad.

'It's time to change if I want Jon to love me… I must merit him… I must stop being a girl and become a woman,' Arya thought with determination.

-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------

Westeros (The Reach, The Arbor) two months after putting down Victarion Greyjoy's Rebellion.

Randyl Tarly, Lord of Hill Horn, was a guest of Paxter Redwyne, the Lord of Arbor, and he was not alone; next to him was Mathis Rowan, who seemed wholly unamused.

Along with him came his wife, daughter and son, as Dickon was still young and must learn all he could about courtesy and what to expect when negotiating with other Houses; even if the Lord Horn Hill was sincere, this invitation was unforeseen.

Relations between their Houses had cooled since his incompetent eldest son Samwell made a fool of himself as Lord Redwyne's ward; he had hoped to forge a betrothal between Samwell and Desmera, Lord Redwyne's daughter, but his cowardly firstborn had been so shamefully intimidated by the Redwyne twins that the engagement was called off.

It was an embarrassment to his House and one of the primary motivations for sending Samwell to the Wall after Renly Baratheon's death; after all, he couldn't let him stand in the way of Dickon's rightful inheritance, Randyll didn't truly hate his eldest son. Still, he couldn't tolerate that a coward who couldn't even defend himself claim the Horn Hill and Heartsbane.

The Lord of Horn Hill only agreed to go to that meeting because Paxter Redwyne claimed to have valuable information about the new King of Westeros.

King Aegon VI Targaryen, the survival of the son of Rhaegar, was a shock to the entire Kingdom as well as the ease with which he conquered them; it was said that he was a sorcerer of incredible abilities and that he could induce fear and madness in others as well as becoming invisible. He had never believed in the existence of magic, but… After how quickly the boy had claimed power and crushed the Ironborn. Victarion Greyjoy had fled to Essos, his brother Aeron was sent to the Wall, and the Krakens' niece Asha had been forced to wed the old whale Erik Ironmaker who, if tales spoke truly, could hardly rise to the occasion. King Aegon took that marriage as true, naming the Ironmakers as the new Great House of the Iron Islands even though Baelon Greyjoy's daughter was missing, and after that, the young dragon destroyed the Garths of the Ironborn and all their ships, reducing the Island to ruins.

Randyll Tarly may not have believed in magic, but after all that... His resolve was beginning to waver as he did not forget how mysterious Renly Baratheon's death was; he did not like the young stag very much... But the circumstances of his death were quite sinister.

At that moment, the doors opened, revealing Lord Redwyne, who was accompanied by a tall hooded man.

'Lord Tarly, Lord Rowan... I'm sorry for the wait, I know you both want to return to your homes as swiftly as possible, but I assure you that this is important and will be worth it...' Said the Lord of Arbor, and he looked at him queerly.

Lord Redwyne was hunched-shouldered, slender and balding with only a few strands of orange hair remaining, yet he still retained some of the vigour of his youth and was undoubtedly a capable naval commander.

'Lord Redwyne… why are we here?' asked the Lord of Horn Hill.

'And who accompanies you?' asked Lord Rowan sharply, but that man just took off his hood, revealing a man of about thirty-five name days with brown hair, although he had a few silver strands along with some wrinkles around his eyes and at the corner of his lips and both Lords were surprised at seeing him since they did not believe that after Robert's Rebellion that man could still be alive.

'Richard Lonmouth...' Randyll Tarly said in surprise, with his mouth slightly ajar to see one of Prince Rhaegar's former squires still alive.

'But… Everyone thought you were dead… After the Trident, Roose Bolton finished you off….' Lord Rowan said in disbelief.

'Almost... But I managed to save myself; in the Battle of the Trident, I was seriously wounded by Roose Bolton, and I was thrown into the river; there I was floating, barely alive, but a group of Dornishmen fished me out after the battle, thinking of keeping my armour... The bastards had me stripped to my trousers when I suddenly woke up and slew them, yet doing so reopened my wounds and when I woke again, Robert sat upon the throne,' Said the knight clenching his fists.

'And then you went into exile across the Narrow Sea….' Lord Rowan guessed.

'Yes, I did not plan to swear allegiance to the Usurper, and I knew very well how he punished Prince Rhaegar's friends and confidants; I decided it was better to disappear….' The former squire said.

'It's a believable story, but... what does it have to do with us and after all this time?... Robert Baratheon and his brothers are dead, his son Edric Baratheon is the New Lord of Storm's End, and surely you have heard the news of the newly resurrected Aegon VI.' Randyll said dryly.

And at that moment, Lord Richard's expression changed to one so joyous that he shed a tear.

'Of course, praise the Gods, learning of the survival of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia's children was a relief as well as knowing that their son now sits on his rightful throne….' Sir Richard said happily.

'But that doesn't explain why Ser Richard summoned us all; I don't think it was just to reveal his survival and how happy he is that the Targaryens have returned to power….' Lord Redwyne said hastily, hoping to settle the matter.

'No, you are right, my Lords and I apologise for boring you with my trivialities; you are busy men, and I will not take any more of your time, so I will get to the point… The reason I asked Lord Redwyne to summon you here is that I have valuable information about the Royal Family, information that could allow us a place at court...' Richard Lonmomount said, knowing perfectly well that he had aroused the interest of the three Lords, although Randyll looked at him with scepticism.

'What are you talking about?' asked Lord Rowan.

'I know the real reason the Rebellion started….' Richard started to say, but Lord Redwyne cut him off.

'If you're going to tell us that it started as Prince Rhaegar wished to save Lyanna from his beastly cousin, I ask you not to waste your breath, numerous bards and Targaryen loyalists spun that tale for numerous years, but the truth is that it began with the Mad King ordering the deaths of Rickard Stark and his son...' Lord Redwyne snapped.

'We may not like Robert Baratheon, Ser, but we're not fools; tell us why you went to the trouble of summoning us here, or we leave….' Lord Randyll threatened, and Ser Richard gave them an irked look but nodded.

'When my strength returned, I headed for Dorne to find the Princess….' Richard said, and the three Lords looked at him queerly.

'Princess?' asked Lord Rowan, confused.

'Yes, Prince Rhaegar's second wife… Lyanna Stark…' Richard said, smiling at the incredulous expression of the three Lords.

'Impossible… Prince Rhaegar was already married to Elia Martell….' Lord Redwyne said.

'Yes, and Aegon the Conqueror had two wives, Maegor had six as I recall… It is true, the Prince never kidnapped Lady Lyanna… They fell in love and eloped… Going to spend the next few months in Dorne, in the Tower of Joy, I know because I went with them...' Lord Richard said.

'So… Many people died uselessly because of their foolish actions,' Lord Rowan said, and Richard did not sincerely deny it. The Knight of Skulls and Kisses did not expect the Lords of the Reach to hold the 'Last Dragon' in such disdain, considering their Houses fought for him.

No, I shouldn't let that put me off; I'm not like Connington and Ser Barristan; Rhaegar was a great man, but even he, too, had flaws and didn't always make good decisions, eloping with a High Lord's betrothed was the proof of that….' Lonmouth thought, understanding that this discussion would not be leisurely.

'I am not going to defend or condemn the actions of Prince Rhaegar because, with his life, he paid the price for his madness just like Princess Lyanna, but the story I want to tell you is not about them… but about his son, the younger brother of King Aegon,' Richard said as the eyes of the three Lords went wide in astonishment.

'Son?... Did Prince Rhaegar have a third son?' Lord Redwyne asked.

'By the gods….' Lord Rowan said.

'How do you know that, Sir?' Lord Tarly asked, not believing the story.

'I stood in the Tower of Joy alongside Prince Rhaegar and his Royal Guards; I was there when they paid a Septon in Arbor wine to marry them. I was present when Princess Lyanna announced her pregnancy and when Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower came by order of the King to order Rhaegar to assume his duties with his House. I went with him while the members of the Kingsguard remained in Dorne to take care of Princess Lyanna and her unborn child... But we all know how it all ended. ..' Ser Richard said, shedding bitter tears

'What happened after?' asked Lord Redwyne, intrigued by the story.

'After the Sack of King's Landing and the apparent deaths of King Aegon and Princess Rhaenys, I returned to Dorne as quickly as I could to get the rightful King and his mother to safety, for the Usurper had known the truth, nothing would have saved the King. Prince Baelon of his wrath.' Sir Richard said.

'But Lyanna Stark died... Or that's what Ned Stark said. Will you tell us that she is also alive and keeping her son hidden all this time?' Randyll Tarly said gruffly.

'No, the Princess died. .. But her son survived being taken to the North by his uncle... Ned Stark, I saw him when they left the Tower of Joy,' Ser Richard said, remaining silent, letting the three Lords in front of him solver the puzzle for themselves until Lord Rowan and Lord Redwyne turned pale as ghosts.

'Are you saying that?...' Lord Rowan said, struggling to speak.

'Indeed I am... Jon Snow, the Bastard Son of Eddard Stark, is truly the son of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Lyanna Stark, as well as the heir to the Iron Throne... Until King Aegon has legitimate sons...' Ser said Richard leaving the three Lords stunned as the story seemed too ridiculous and fanciful however… All the details, the timing, the fact that no one ever knew the child's mother, everything was to cover up the whole question… Who is the real father of Jon Snow?

Everything fit….Although it was almost impossible to believe, even the boy himself showed signs of an unusual talent for music if Lord Mace's words were true and even his eyes, although they seemed grey in the light, sometimes seemed to change to an indigo colour.

'So… That boy is not a bastard but a Trueborn Targaryen Prince,' Lord Redwyne gasped in shock.

That was when the Lord of the Arbor remembered the times when the boy accompanied Mace whenever his visited the Arbor; as far as Paxter Redwyne could recall, the boy never caught his attention, although his friend and his wife Alerie seemed to hold him in highest esteem. Jon was handsome, skilled with lance and sword. He had even managed to humiliate his sons at the Tourney of Oldtown several years prior; indeed, they had fostered a hatred of the boy, but he paid it no mind; on the other hand, his daughter Desmera seemed delighted with him every time the Tyrells brought him with them, Desmera even wept when she learned she could not wed him.

And now… He is the Crown Prince… The Gods must love to ridicule them.

A quick glance at Lord Rowan told Lord Paxter that Lord Goldengrove had similar thoughts, for even his daughters admired the young man's good looks, lamenting that he was ineligible for a union because of his birth, that Northern bastard was known as the Wolf of the South and was quite celebrated as a member of Renly's Rainbow guard.

'Who else knows about this?' asked Lord Tarly.

'At the moment, just the four of us and the Lord of Greywater Howland Reed, who was, along with Lord Eddard, the only survivor of that battle. he can testify to what I am telling you because the old Septon who married Prince Rhaegar and Lady Lyanna died years ago… Shortly after the marriage was recorded in the records he left it in the libraries… It must still be there, lost among all the scrolls and vellum.' Sir Richard said, and the Lords grumbled, knowing it would take years to find such a document.

'Have you any collaborators?' Randyll Tarly asked.

'Some loyal men that I managed to gather over the years some even being spies in the Red Keep; they have even informed me of many things that have happened there… Believe me, there are few things that have happened since the Rebellion that I am not aware of. … Such as the survival of King Aegon and his sister Princess Rhaenys… That was a surprise or a miracle, depending on how you desire to see it.' Sir Richard said, taking a glass of wine from the table.

'Why now?... Why didn't you act sooner?... Had you known of that boy's identity before...' Lord Rowan asked, annoyed at having missed such an opportunity.

And Lord Richard sighed…

'Because it was not the time my Lord, my men and I had watched the Prince from afar, fortunately, Lord Eddard treated him like another of his sons, ordering for him a High Lord education and handling of weapons, so we decided to leave things. So at that time, then we thought that if Lord Eddard Stark didn't reveal the Prince's identity to Robert, he would like to send Prince Baelon to the Wall and at that moment, we could rescue him and inform him of his true identity, but rather, his uncle sent him South with the Tyrells.

That was an affair that no one, not even I, could have foreseen and unknowingly ruined my plans because Prince Baelon was much closer to Robert Baratheon. Although I did not dare to kidnap him from Highgarden, I decided to bide my time. Although I acted foolishly and thought to enter Kings Landing, seeing him reassured me as his appearance hid his true heritage, and my fears were unfounded until the melee when Prince Baelon faced Thoros of Myr....' Sir Richard said, sighing with relief as he recalled the scene.

'What happened there?' asked Lord Tarly; everyone knew that the Prince had won the tournament, but no one knew the exact details.

'The Prince managed to stop the flaming sword of Thoros of Myr with his hands; it is true that he was shielded by gauntlets forged by the master armourer Tobho Mott, but in any case, he did not burn at all. He merely cut himself...' Sir Richard said while the three Lords meditated on it.

'That… That's extraordinary… But I don't see how that proves the boy is a Targaryen Prince,' Lord Tarly said, and Richard soughed angrily.

'The blood of the Freehold runs through the veins of the Targaryens; there are accounts of some Targaryens with magic, some being unsusceptible to fire; I also believed they were myths… Until that day, Jon Snow… Prince Baelon Targaryen is the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and his second wife, Princess Lyanna Stark; there is no question the time of his conception, the fact that three members of the Kingsguard will stay in Dorne rather than accompanying their Prince to the Battle of the Trident and the fact Lord Eddard never spoke of the mother of his supposed son.' Sir Richard said, and the three Lords nodded.

'Very well, we should be grateful that you made us aware of that truth, Ser, but what do you expect us to do? nor do we understand why you summoned us here… The Prince and his companions Loras and Robar Royce disappeared after venturing to Dorne and kidnapping Princess Arianne, only to later thwart Princess Daenerys' Wedding in Pentos and then disappear,' Said Lord Rowan.

'Yes, that was strange... We first thought that the Prince went to Dorne to find allies for his cousin Robb Stark, but it seems that was not the case, and then he went to Pentos for his aunt Daenerys...' Sir Richard said, rambling.

'Do you think the Prince knows of his true identity?' Lord Redwyne asked.

'No, oh well, I'm not sure… Perhaps yes, but if he had known of his true lineage, why not return to Westeros?… Marriage to his aunt would have given his claim legitimacy, and the friendship that binds him to Mace Tyrell's youngest son, along with his Stark blood, would have earned him powerful allies but instead, he exiled himself to an unknown place... There are many things I don't understand about the Prince's departure though I cannot see the ends of plots, not my own.' Ser Richard said, and Lord Redwyne nodded, understanding that he would not get anything else.

'Does King Aegon know of the existence of his half-brother?' Lord Rowan asked with a hand on his chin.

'No, I am sure of that, the King wishes to order the search for his sister, Princess Rhaenys, who also disappeared at her aunt's wedding, but my spies have told me not to mention the Prince as such... Only he is referred to as Eddard Stark's bastard, usually by Lord Connington and the Imp… So none save us, and Lord Howland knows the truth,' Sir Richard said, utterly sure of his words.

'Then why did you have Lord Paxter summon us here? What do you intend us to do?' Lord Tarly asked, regretting not paying more attention to the boy when he came to visit with the Tyrells or he came to Highgarden; he even became friends with the useless pig of a son Samwell.

Whom he now believed had sent the Wall ahead of time, his obese and cowardly son might have been helpful now if the Prince still valued his friendship.

'I want to find Prince Baelon and Princesses Rhaenys and Daenerys… I want to reunite the Royal Family and secure the legacy of the Targaryens. I failed at the Trident when I couldn't stop Robert's hammer from crushing Prince Rhaegar's chest and failed again when I didn't seek the Prince and Princess, leaving them both all those years in exile in Essos and once more when I couldn't stop Prince Baelon from leaving Westeros without knowing of his heritage... I want to redeem myself before the eyes of the sons of Rhaegar; that's why I haven't been able to show my face again despite the return of the dragons, out of shame...' Sir Richard said mournfully.

'Do you want us to help you return to the grace of the King?' Asked Lord Redwyne, furious as he believed that all this meeting was for the sole benefit of himself.

'That's right, my Lords; however, I don't expect you to help me for mere generosity... If we find the King's family, I'm sure he will reward us, I know that the Reachmen were expelled from the Court by the actions of Lord Mace, but perhaps with the help of our Prince, we may return to court… And perhaps arrange a marriage,' Ser Richard said, with that he had them.

'What you propose could take a long time, and we don't even know if they yet live...' Lord Tarly said suspiciously.

'No, if we know... They are alive; my spies have informed me that in Highgarden, the Tyrell have thought of sending ships to the West of Westeros; nobody knows why since they don't carry goods, except supplies, but I think their intentions can be guessed since apparently the eldest son of the Tyrells heard a rumour that his brother and Prince Baelon had gone to seek unknown lands... It seems that this was his destiny after leaving Pentos...' Sir Richard said worriedly.

'Why don't we join the Tyrells, then?' Lord Redwyne asked.

'My Lord, they are not to be trusted! First, they joined Renly Baratheon, and then that harpy thought it prudent to marry her daughter to Joffrey Waters, joining the King's cause when things did not go according to plan... So they are not trustworthy,' said Ser Richard, unaware that he revealed where some of his spies may roost

That the youngest Rose of Highgarden had fallen before the charms of the Wolf of the North, well, it seems that love shall wither... If what Ser Richard says is true, the maiden who marries the Prince is the key to the Reach and may once again have a voice in King Aegon's Court… Only that voice will not be one of glorified Stewards. They do not wish to renege on their vows of loyalty to House Tyrell… But the opportunity to marry one of their daughters to a Targaryen Prince is too reasonable to pass up… the Rose sought to grow strong yet choked on their own Ivy.

No, they must search for the Prince and Princesses themselves and then… They will have to compete to offer one of their daughters to the Prince… But first, they must find him.

'I understand the importance of this undertaking... But I feel that we are too few...' Lord Rowan complained.

'I know, I was hoping to draw Lord Hightower to our cause as he is Lady Alerie's father, and according to my spies, she was a like a mother to the Prince, I was hoping to count the power of House Hightower to our group, but Lord Leyton and his eldest daughter have been locked up in Hightower for a decade apparently studying magic and occultism... I sent him a raven, but he decided not to attend,' Ser Richard said with a sigh.

 'Maybe it's for the best….' The three Lords thought jointly.

'Well, I'll prepare some ships... But we can't start the search yet; the damned squids battered my fleet; I shall have to put the Arbor's affairs in order before we begin this task...' Lord Redwyne said, and Ser Richard nodded.

'I will prepare some men….' Lord Tarly said.

'As will I', Lord Rowan said.

'I understand, my Lords...' Rhaegar's former squire said, happy to see that his plans went off without a hitch.

'Soon, soon, I will be able to atone for my failures before Rhaegar's family… Soon I will be able to clean up my failures,' The Knights of Skulls and kisses thought.

Notes:

Thanks to great_red