The Northern Dragon - XV (Patreon)

Chapter 15: Stormborn

A whore, a bastard and two princes dined together.
To Aevyr, that sounded like the beginning of a terrible joke.

Did he feel uncomfortable, not really, he had been served the best food he had ever eaten, and he could eat in peace and quiet as Jaehaeron and Daemon were too busy talking to each other to pay attention to either he or the whore.
Aevyr examined her, skin pale as milk, lithe and lissome, beautiful, and beauty was all she seemed to have. Now she was carrying a royal bastard, judging by the size of her belly, she must have been in her seventh or eight month of pregnancy, which was odd since Jon had been in the North for barely six moons and only when he had his dream did he deduce that this particular whore had been impregnated by his father.

Did he know her as well? Jon never cared for whores or girls in Winterfell, how did he know that whore’s nickname?
So many questions, but none were especially interesting, so Aevyr minded his own business: his food.

Jon on the other hand, had a hard time keeping his eyes off Mysaria’s belly, when he had had his dream, he did not think about the potential sibling he was about to gain. He only worried about its survival, but now that it was safe -and with his uncle’s mercy, it would be-, he finally felt the excitement of becoming an older brother rushed through his veins. He had so many questions, would it be a boy or a girl? He did not remember if the history books mentioned the child’s gender. What about him? Did he want a brother, or a sister?

He spared a brief glance at Aevyr, perhaps their relationship was not doomed after all, and if he ended up having a bastard brother, mayhaps Aevyr would like him too, even though the child would not have any Northern blood.

But the truth was that Jon missed Arya more than any of his siblings and secretly wished the child would be a girl. As wild as Arya. Perhaps he could suggest the name to his father?
He immediately forgot about this idea, there had only been and would ever be one Arya in his heart. And his father would insist on a Valyrian name anyway.

“Have you thought about names?” Jon asked.

The question was directed at Mysaria, but Daemon answered the moment she opened her mouth.

“Your brother shall be named Aegon.” The Rogue declared with pride.

Jon thought he saw Aevyr smirk behind his napkin.

“What if it is a girl?”

Daemon merely shook his head.

“I’m convinced it will be a boy.”

“Careful, Father, you sound like Uncle Viserys.”

Daemon paused, his work half-way to his mouth, he put his food down and smiled at his son. Jon knew this smile, it was the one his father shown when he was trying to contain his anger.

“You are not wrong.” He acknowledged. “But contrary to my dear brother, I have nothing to prove.”

He patted Jon’s head, making the latter realized that his father had successfully calmed himself. The young Prince turned towards Mysaria, the whore was wearing a beautiful dress from Lys, Jon wished it was not so revealing, despite her beauty, she looked like what she was. Jon had hoped that his sibling’s mother would have been properly honored by his father.

“What do you think, Lady Mysaria?” He asked, lightly startling the young woman. “Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?”

The whore’s eyes widened, and for a moment she looked hesitant, she opened her mouth, but then crossed eyes with Daemon and immediately closed it. It was obvious to everyone that she desired a girl but did not dare voice it outloud.

“Why do you want a sister?” Aevyr asked Jon when he realized how intimidated the white worm was.

Jon thought for a moment, he could not give his actual reason, so he came up with an excuse:

“I would need to be harsh with a brother.” He said, his eyes fixed on Aevyr’s. “A sister would be easier to love, I would just need to spoil her.”

Aevyr rolled his eyes.

“You sound like an old man.”

“And you sound like an annoying brat.”

“Which I am.” Aevyr snorted with a playful smile. “Get that stick off your ass and you might not age too fast.”

Daemon loudly cleared his throat, interrupting the beginning of the squabble between the boys, his eyes shone dangerously at Snow.

“It is true that touching a royal without his permission is punishable by removing a hand.” Daemon said in a cold voice. “But insulting one is punishable by removing a tongue. You better remember this, bastard.”

His words turned the comfortable warmth of the dining hall of Dragonstone colder than a wildling’s tent north of the Wall. Knowing Aevyr’s foul mouth, Jon spoke first before his cousin spoke his last words.
“Father, Aevyr is a bastard but he is also the only friend I have made in Winterfell. There is no need to…”

“My dear boy.” Daemon interrupted, smiling his cold smile. “Whatever your relationship is with that bastard, he should not forget how to properly address us when we are dining. He can use whatever fool language you tolerate with you, but I, will not tolerate it. The last bastard who ate at the table of Aegon the Conqueror was Orys Baratheon, and he knew his manners and his place. Make sure that one remembers both, or I will remind him myself.”

Jon instantly feared Aevyr’s reaction, but his cousin humbly lowered his head.

“My apologies, my Prince, it will not happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.”

The dinner went on in heavy atmosphere, only Daemon seemed to enjoy himself as he kept asking questions to Jon regarding his life in Winterfell and if he was treated as a Prince of his station should be treated. Jon chose to lie a little, his father did not need to know about his squabbles with Bennard’s children, nor did he need to know about his many fights with Aevyr. Better reassure him and enjoy what little time he had with his father than to start something he would have no control over.

However, he could not help but spare some glances at Mysaria’s rounded belly. Nor could he keep the smile on his face from appearing.

Meanwhile, Aevyr kept his nose in his food, promising himself that, one day, he would kick the ass of the pompous inbred twat that was Jaehaeron’s father.

(-)(-)(-)

Mysaria’s quarters were modest compared to her baby’s father, yet, the latter had still made sure she was comfortably settled, and had gifted her with more jewels and gold that she had ever seen in her entire life. Yet, Mysaria’s feelings were… impossible to read.

She had been no one, a dancer among many others, who had left Lys because magisters and nobles had lusted for her Valyrian looks. Out of fear to be captured and turned into a bedslave, she sold her body to a strong Braavosi captain who took her on his ship in secret and made her cross the Narrow Sea. She had been fourteen when this had happened.

In King’s Landing, she had quickly adapted to the life of the fanciest whores in the capital. She had found a pleasure house to work in and a matron to protect her. Her Valyrian beauty made kept her fed and allowed her the privilege of refusing some clients. Two years passed before Daemon Targaryen’s lustful eyes laid on her dancing body, during a night she would never forget. The Rogue Prince had paid a fortune to have her for a whole week, preventing her from taking other men into her bed while he went back to the Red Keep to assume his role as Lord Commander of the City Watch. He came back every night, a week turned into a moon, and in the end, he had even forbade her from taking moon tea, and gifted her thousands of gold dragon to buy her womb for a child.
She would never forget how miserable he had looked, nor the pleas in his eyes, nor the desperate tone he had used.

“Please.” He had whispered. “Bear me a child, another beautiful son like the one Lyanna gave me. I need it, I need to be a father again.”

Mysaria was no one, a simple commoner, a whore’s daughter turned whore herself, and a prince had asked her to bear her a child. She had hesitated, obviously. The gold, the jewels, the luxury Daemon had covered her with were incredible, but to carry a child of royal blood… Who could tell if her Prince had not some kind of perverted kink and would abandon her once his seed had quickened inside her womb?

She ultimately gave in after Daemon had brought her a thousand gold dragons. Mysaria had never seen so much money in her life, with this, she could buy a house, hire guards, and live comfortably for the rest of her life, whether the Prince would recognize the child or not.

She put a hand on her rounded belly, tears of relief and fear flowed down her cheeks without her knowing why.
She had heard Prince Jaehaeron’s words, she was to be banished after her child would be born. But where would she go? Pentos? Lys? Would the Prince follow her? Would he give her enough money to allow her to live the life she desired with her child? Would he take her child away from her? Would she ever see it again if he were to do so?

Her tears turned into sobs, she sat on her bed to rest her tired legs and to hold her belly. She had only recently realized how much she wanted this child, until Daemon had impregnated her, it had only been a trade: gold for a babe. But now that the babe was growing in her womb, now that she was about to become a mother… how could she ever wish to get rid of it? She had never cared for more than her own survival, all she had done since she had been old enough to work, was to ensure her next day would not be full of pain. It was as if all of her life was now concentrated in her womb, that nothing mattered if not her babe, and the next day was nothing but a storm of concerns and questions without answers.
Perhaps Mysaria would have cried herself to sleep that night, had someone not knocked on her door.

For a moment, she thought it was Daemon, and who else would it be? No one in Dragonstone had ever spoken to her except for the maester and some servants. No one had ever visited her in her room except her babe’s father. She quickly erased her tears and swallowed her anxiety to put on her most charming smile.
“Come in.”

When Prince Jaehaeron opened the door to enter her chambers, Mysaria’s eyes widened in surprise. When the little boy timidly walked forward and greeted her with a shy smile, she almost laughed in adoration at how timid that little boy who rod a legendary dragon, was.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Lady Mysaria.”

So polite, no one had ever spoken to her with such respect, for a moment, she felt like an actual noble lady.

“I was just wondering if I could… Perhaps if it is not too much of a bother… I would like to…”

Mysaria almost laughed, how could someone as serious as Daemon, be the father of such an adorable boy? Perhaps her own child would turn the same.

“I’m sorry.” Jon repeated, he had no idea how to properly ask what he truly wanted. So he blurted it out:

“Would you… allow me to… feel…? I mean, listen to my sibling?” He bit his lower lip. “Do you mind if I put my hands on your belly?”

Mysaria looked at him with dumbfounded eyes and smiled a bright smile. Daemon had often kissed her womb, whispering words in High Valyrian, calling it Aegon reborn. Never had he asked for her opinion or permission, nor had she denied him, out of fear of angering him.

She gently nodded, her smile grew larger when she saw the boy’s purple eyes shone in gratitude and wonder. He truly respected her wishes.

Slowly, Jon put his hands on Mysaria’s belly. It was something he had always dreamt of doing as the bastard of Winterfell. How many times had he looked from afar as Robb embraced his mother’s pregnant belly? How many times had Lady Catelyn glared at him when he had looked at his brother with envy. How many times had he wished to listen to his sibling’s growth? How many times had he wished to hold his siblings in his arms after they were born?

Mysaria’s heartbeat was peaceful, her skin was soft, she smelled nice. Jon, who had never known any of his mothers, took comfort in their embrace.
His new sibling was calm, he could feel it. It was so peaceful, so relaxing, Jon could already feel the bond they would share together, a tear flowed down his cheek. He embraced the Lysean woman’s large womb and put his hear against her skin.

“If it is a girl.” He whispered. “How would you name her?”

“I don’t know.” Mysaria shamefully answered. “Your father is so convinced it will be a boy that I did not dare to contradict him.”

She gently rubbed the boy’s hair, he purred at her touch.

“I do not know many Targaryen names, and I do not wish to anger your uncle, the King. Do you have any ideas?”

Jon thought, barely containing his childish excitement. His sibling, if she were to be a girl, deserved a proper Targaryen name. One to honor her dragon blood and remind anyone that, bastard or not, she would be simply his sister, she would be a Targaryen of Old Valyria in all but name.

Jon reviewed all the names of the Targaryen princesses that had lived in the first century after the Conquest.

Rhaenys was out of the question, the Queen who never was who take it as an insult. He doubted his father would allow a bastard girl to be named after his own mother, no matter her blood, so Alyssa would not do.

 Should she be named Alysanne, Otto Hightower would seize the opportunity to slight Daemon by claiming that the Rogue Prince had dishonored the Good Queen by naming his bastard after her.

Visenya was also a poor choice, being the mother of Maegor the Cruel and the one who put that monster on the Iron Throne, the warrior Queen had tarnished her very own name, and Jon did not want the ghosts of the past to follow her sister wherever she went.

That left few names, Rhaena, Aerea, Rhaella, Vyserra, Daenerys…

Jon’s eyes widened for a second, and the conversations he had had with Maester Aemon in Castleblack, regarding the only living relative of the old Targaryen man, came back to his mind.

“A Targaryen alone in the World, is a terrible thing.”

Daenerys, that had been the name of this Targaryen, a girl born in exile who had birthed three dragons, more than a century after their extinction and fourteen years after the Targaryens had lost the Iron Throne.
“Daenerys had been alone, under siege, with no family to guide her.” Jon remembered. “Maester Aemon had desperately wanted to help her, to protect her, to guide her but never could. She had been a world away and the maester struggled to climb up the stairs at Castleblack. They never met, but…”

He rose his head from Mysaria’s belly and smiled at it.

“If you truly are a girl, then I believe this name would fit you perfectly; ‘Daenerys’. I hope you’ll be just like her, this woman that they named the ‘Mother of Dragons’, but you won’t be alone, I’ll be here, every step of the way, to guide you and protect you, you won’t be a bastard forever. This I vow.”

He gently kissed Mysaria’s womb and smiled at her.

“Daenerys.” He said. “It would be perfect for a Targaryen Lady.”

Her name would be Waters, but it wouldn’t last forever. She would not be alone like Jon Snow had been, she would be loved and treasured.

Mysaria seemed to like that idea as she rubbed her belly with love. Yes, Aegon for a boy and Daenerys for a girl, it was perfect.
As the storm raged outside and rain poured down on the Valyrian fortress, Mysaria paid no attention to the storm, the wind, or the downpour. All she cared for was the child she was carrying and the little boy who held so much love for him.

For the first time since she realized she was pregnant, all the worries she had carried in her heart had evaporated. She nodded her thanks to Jon and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"Daenerys." She repeated. "That's a beautiful name."

Jon was about to answer, when he realized his hand was wet. He looked down and realized the sheets themselves were wet. His eyes widened in shock and he looked up to meet Mysaria's confused gaze.

"Milady, you... Your waters are breaking!"

Both of them instantly began to panic. Because both of them knew that it was far too early. Mysaria was not supposed to give birth for another moon, two at the latest. But the contractions that took hold of her body made her understand that the time had come.

Jon rushed to the door, threw it open - which startled the guards - and shouted:

"Get the maester, the midwives, anyone! Lady Mysaria's water is breaking!"

(-)(-)(-)

She could still feel it, the dagger in her heart, the blood in her mouth… Her lover’s miserable sorry eyes.

She wanted to vomit, to rage, to struggle with all the fire that resided in her heart. But all she ended up doing was crying, she had died, died! Her! The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains and the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, she had died, at the feet of the Iron Throne without ever sitting on it as she had dreamt. Killed by a man she had fallen in love with.

She did not know what was happening to her, she had been looking in betrayal at Jon Snow’s sorry gaze, then… something had happened to her the second her eyes had closed forever, she was now drowning, in what seemed to be a bag of sorts.

She had tried to move, to open her eyes, to understand what kind of fate the Gods were now forcing on her.

She felt that she was upside down, she tried to dig, to swim, to do something in whatever hell she had been thrown. Her agony lasted for so long, she could not breath, yet was not choking, she could not struggle, yet was not being attacked, she could not understand what was happening, yet it was happening.

She felt something, something cold on the top of her skull. That was when she realized that she had lost her hair. She felt some pressure against her head, a pressure that came from both sides, was she being spat out? Vomited? What was happening?

When cold bit her ears, she heard a woman say:

“The head is out! Keep pushing!”

Head? Her head? Gods what was happening?! She needed to understand! What had she done to deserve such a fate?! She had fought her whole life to make the World a better place! Why would the Gods…?

Finally, the monster released her, and Daenerys Waters unleashed her fury!

She raged, roared, she breathed all the fire that she could muster, but all that came out of her mouth were just the loud cries of an infant, an infant that was struggling against the gigantic hands that were holding it.

“Gods!” A man whose voice Daenerys did not know yelled. “That one is even louder than his brother was!”

Brother? Did he mean Viserys? Had she arrived in the Seven Hells where her brother was awaiting her? Gods… Her life was truly over.

She cried once more, but something grabbed her by her foot and she was now hanging in the air.

“Calm yourself at once, boy, by order of your father!”

She instantly stopped. Her… Father? The King? Had he called her boy?! She was a boy?!

“Father!” A boy cried. “That is no way to treat an infant!”

“Calm yourself too, Jaehaeron.” The man commanded. “It worked on you perfectly when you were born, and look, it has worked on your brother as well.”

“Hum… I’m sorry my Prince, but that one is a girl.” One of the midwives said.

Daemon looked at her for a second, his face was like stone, then he looked at his daughter’s crouch, and exhaled in exasperation.

Daenerys still did not know what was happening to her, she was so confused, she was hanging in the air, feeling colder than she had North of the Wall, held by her foot by a man who had claimed to be her Father. Where was she? Was it hell? Was she dead?

A pair of smaller and softer hands gently grabbed her to save her from her dangling situation. She felt a soft and warm blanket being wrapped around her body, that was when she realized that she had the body of a babe.

“I’m a baby.” She realized without being able to open her eyes yet. “What is going on? Have I been…? Is this a new life? Is this the cycle of life? The real afterlife?”

She tried to think as the person holding her gently deposed her in the arms of someone else.

“Thank you, Milady, for giving me a sister.”

Daenerys breathed hard, a sister, she had an older brother, again! How had this man… -her father- called him…? Jaehaeron! That sounded like a Valyrian name, though she had never heard of such a name.

Mysaria smiled in gratefulness at Jon for his kind words as she gently started to rock her baby. But her smile faltered when she saw Daemon’s stone face.

“My Prince?” She asked, her voice shaking slightly. “Are you pleased?”

The Rogue Prince seemed to be at a loss of words, he looked at his daughter with an impassive face, then he saw his son’s pleading eyes and sighed in defeat to sit beside his courtesan.

“I am.”

He did sound sincere, but both Jon and Mysaria could feel his disappointment.

Jon chose not to give too much thought into this, his father was a complicated man. He wanted to be a great Dragonlord and a good father, sometimes those goals could not align. But no matter what, Daemon Targaryen loved his family dearly and no one would take that away from him.

Daenerys felt two more hands on her cheeks in addition to the ones holding her. Now that she was protected from the cold and that she had, somehow, assessed her situation as a newborn. She did not know what to do nor what to think, she tried desperately to open her eyes and see what kind of fate the Gods had inflicted upon her.
When she finally did, the first face she saw was a woman’s. A woman that looked even younger than Daenerys had when she died in the Red Keep, with the palest skin she had ever seen and light purple eyes. She smiled instantly when she saw her, she never knew what Queen Rhaella had looked like, to finally put a face on the name ‘mother’ was a great relief to her, and she was beautiful. A true Valyrian beauty, worthy of the Targaryen name. Daenerys slowly felt her anxiousness leave her.

Then, her eyes fell on the man who could only be her father, he was young, he was strong and had all the Valyrian features that she herself shared. However, his eyes lacked the warmth her mother had shown. Daenerys smiled at him as well, trying to get something out that impassive stone face.

When she saw something shine in his purple orbs, she knew that this man loved her. Perhaps the Gods had sent her here to live the life she had always wanted to live. She had a family, royals if she heard correctly, meaning she would have a house to call home, she wondered if the door was red, as Ser Willem’s door had been, she wondered if there were lemon trees, she wondered…

She stopped wondering and smiling the moment her eyes crossed the ones of the young boy that had been sitting at her mother’s right side. She opened her mouth in shock and felt her anxiety return. This boy… he had purple eyes, Valyrian cheekbones and nose, but a Northern long face and black curls that looked far too familiar. He was younger than the man she had seen before she died, but there was no doubt in her mind that this man and this boy were the exact same person.

“Hello.” He murmured with a reassuring tone, slightly worried by the face she made when she saw him. “I am your brother, Jaehaeron.”

“No!”  She wanted to scream. “No! You… are Jon Snow!”

AN: In the Show, Maester Aemon says "a Targaryen alone in the World..." to Sam, not Jon, but I changed it because that sentence is important.
In the Books, Daenaerys keeps dreaming about the House Viserys and her had lived in in Braavos under the care of Ser Willem Darry. I really, REALLY, don't like showDany, but I did not want to make up some kind of death for her to reincarnate in this story, so she will be bookDany with the events of ShowDany. Less stupidity masked in Badassery and more honesty and a tiny bit of madness ;).
So, yes, Dany is in this story. I hope you guys liked it ;).
The Green Dragon is next

then God & Demon

Then The Dragon and the Wolf.

Take care;)