Dragon's Heir : Revival of Valyria - Chapter 5 : Forging a Stronger Connection

Aenar Targaryen

Kings Road

"Morning, sunshine," Allyn greeted with a chuckle. "What exactly is a false dragon?" he asked, catching him off guard. 'How did he know?' he wondered.

"What? Why do you ask?" He replied, trying to hide his surprise.

"Well, you kept mumbling about it in your sleep," Allyn explained. He let out a sigh. "Well, it has something to do with a prophecy."

"Well, that is certainly something new. Then again, you are a wolf and a dragon, so you mumbling that in your sleep isn't that weird," Allyn said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, call me the crazy dragon wolfling," he replied sullenly, keeping the details to himself. 'Revealing that he converses with a voice in his dreams and being on Dragonstone might make Allyn think he was going mad.' He thought, and he couldn't really blame for it either, and it did all sound crazy.

But Allyn, seeing his looks, spoke up. "Yeah, but Jon, you aren't crazy. How else would you explain all that has happened? Let's eat. We have the final ride to Moat Cailin today, where our escort will be waiting to take us to Greywater Watch. Your father said they would be expecting us," Allyn said, gesturing toward the food.

They rode for another three hours until the remaining towers of the once-great fortress of the North came into view. It was the stronghold that had kept the Andals at bay, and only his family could make the North bend the knee. Looking at the Stark banners hanging on the towers, he couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility. The North had fallen into decay, and it was time to rebuild.

He made a mental note to send messages to his father, urging him to start the rebuilding process. The North had to become strong again if they were to aid in the fight to retake the Iron Throne, to set history straight, and not let the usurpers and murderers be remembered as heroes.

"Well, as I thought it would be," He remarked to Allyn, who nodded in agreement.

"Yes, Jon. Moat Cailin is just a fallen ruin now. Trying to bring your army up from the sides would be risky. Your heavy troops and men would be slow and vulnerable to archers or sinkholes. And as for taking it from the south, it would be a near-impossible feat. Thousands of men forced into that narrow causeway would meet a gruesome end. The North is no easy conquest, my friend." Allyn said, chuckling.

"Yes, very true," he chuckled. The once-mighty fortress had few gates or intact walls remaining. Most were sunken into mud or in a state of decay. "Well, let's meet the party from Lord Reed, shall we?" He declared, his voice filled with determination, and they rode hard toward the towers.

"Halt! Who goes there?" a guardsman asked, donning the colors of House Stark. He knew that Lord Stark maintained a garrison of around 100 men at Moat Cailin, rotating them every two years due to the fort's strategic importance and relatively accommodating conditions amidst the decay.

"I am Jon Snow, the bastard son of Lord Stark. I am on my way to Greywater Watch for my wardship," He declared to the guardsman atop his horse.

"Ah, yes. Welcome, Snow. Lord Stark sent us a message, as did the group that arrived two days ago, informing us of your impending arrival," the guardsman responded, his tone tinged with disdain as he mentioned the "Snow" surname. Though he sensed the disrespect, he chose to let it slide. In the eyes of the world, he was still considered a bastard. Allyn, positioned atop his horse, glowered at the guardsman, clearly displeased by the lack of respect shown.

"Well, the hospitality of Moat Cailin is yours, Snow," the guardsman said, and he and the other guardsmen lowered their spears. They rode past fallen sections of the ruin, with no towers in sight, only scattered rocks and debris. The three towers he had spotted from a distance were situated at the other end of the fort, still usable but gradually succumbing to decay. If the deterioration continued unchecked, Moat Cailin would be reduced to nothing in fifty years. Shaking his head at the sight, he observed a group clothed in green and brown, bearing the Reed banner, approaching them as they made their way to the center of the fort.

"My lord," one of the men greeted respectfully.

"No, my lord, I am not one. Just a bastard. You can call me either Snow or Jon, whichever you prefer," He responded.

"Uh, Jon, I am Jossell, captain of the group that will escort you to Greywater Watch," Jossell introduced himself.

"Very well, Jossell. I am not familiar with the journey there. Can I bring my horse, or will they need to stay here at the Moat?" He inquired as he dismounted.

"No, unfortunately, Greywater Watch is not suitable for horses, I'm afraid," Jossell replied.

He contemplated his options, his gaze meeting that of his loyal companion, Shadow, a horse of remarkable strength and spirit. "Well, I suppose Shadow will have to remain here for the time being or roam freely on the plains north of the Neck," He deliberated aloud, a smirk forming as Shadow pawed at the ground in anticipation of an open expanse to roam. "Yes, girl, I shall set you free, but return to me when I need your strength."

The crannogmen watched in astonishment at the scene. "Well, it seems you have a strong bond with your horse," Jossell remarked, nodding toward Shadow.

"Yes, I raised Shadow from a young filly," He replied with a smile, patting Shadow's neck. "We will leave tomorrow at dawn. It will be a three-day trip to Greywater Watch if that suits you, Jon," Jossell informed him, to which he nodded in agreement.

They were interrupted when a voice asked from behind, and he turned around. "My lord, I am the castellan of Moat Cailin, Arne, my lord," the castellan introduced himself tentatively. "May I show you to your rooms for the night?" Arne asked.

"I am no lord. Call me Jon or Snow. But yes, you can show us our rooms," Aenar replied, annoyed. He thought that riding a big black destrier with a pack horse and a Stark guardsman created the appearance that he was a lord, and if people didn't know, they would mistake him for one. "Please have someone unpack the horse and stable them," he requested, scanning the area. He was surprised that no one had done so already, likely due to the lack of proper discipline and a true lord of Moat Cailin to maintain order. When he became the lord, that would have to change.

"Jon, my men and I will handle it all. Your chests and belongings shall be safely transported to the stables, ready for your departure tomorrow," Jossell assured him, earning a nod of gratitude from him. As they made their way towards the gatehouse tower, where their chambers awaited, Aenar couldn't help but note that it stood as the sole tower still standing straight amidst the ruins. Despite his bastard status, he was afforded the finest accommodations, a courtesy extended due to his lineage.

The remainder of the day was spent exploring the decaying fort and its surroundings. He engaged in spirited sparring matches with both Allyn and Jossell, finding the latter to be a refreshing change from the dour disposition prevalent amongst the garrison. It appeared that stationed duty at Moat Cailin lacked excitement. As dusk settled, he mounted Shadow once more and rode her across the open plain behind the Moat, knowing it would be some time before he reunited with his trusted steed.

Dinner that evening was a simple affair—a hearty fish soup made from the plentiful catch of Moat Cailin's waters. Conversations with the guards revolved around the limited traffic passing through, particularly during autumn when food wagons journeyed from the south. Though some supplies arrived from White Harbor, most provisions were secured through that bustling port. Occasionally, a lord or noble would undertake the journey, venturing either North or south. The guards dutifully trained, stood watch, and patrolled the Kingsroad, vigilant for any signs of banditry.

After dinner, he sat at his desk in his room, looking over maps of the Neck and the region of Moat Cailin. 'He had seen Moat Cailin now, and it had potential if they could turn it into a great fort. He envisioned it as a base from where he could expand his power and influence, conveniently close to the neck. He wondered if he could even use it to hide the dragons if the eggs were to hatch. Additionally, he considered the strategic benefits of building a channel from the Narrow Sea to the Fever River—it would greatly benefit the North and make it almost impossible for invaders to come from the South. Moreover, it would ease the power projection to the Sunset Sea and provide protection against the Ironborn.

From the lessons with Maester Luwin, he estimated it would cost 50,000 gold dragons to restore the Moat. Adding a channel and a harbor town would increase the cost to an additional 25,000 gold dragons. With enthusiasm, Aenar decided to write to his father, urging him to proceed with plans to make him the lord of the Moat. He would include the plans, and the thought of taking such action brightened his heart. Finally, he was doing something he could feel proud of and would have his own domain.' He thought about it all as a smile grazed his lips.

So, Aenar began to write the letter.

Dear Father….

Benjen Stark

Winterfell

He had been riding for three weeks since the letter from his brother arrived. 'He had pondered why he wanted to see him. He had never really asked something like this before. Usually, he would come on his own, or he would come when significant events happened. But it was really the first time Ned had asked him to come.' He thought as Winterfell came into view.

'It always brought feelings of the past, of his father, sister, brother, and mistakes. That's why he left for the Wall after Ned had returned from the war and had an heir. Robb was all Tully, with brown-red hair and blue eyes, as were the rest of the Ned kids with Tully. Expect Arya Stark; she looks like Ned and Jon. Although he had purple coloring in his eyes, it was mixed with the grey of the Starks. Most likely from his mother and his handsome face. If he wasn't a bastard and how Catelyn Tully treated him in Winterfell, most likely, they would have the maids flocking around him.' He mused to himself.

The gates were open. He rode through the two gatehouses of his old home. The guardsmen nodded as they recognized him and let him pass. "Lord Benjen," one of the guardsmen calls out, nodding toward him with a smile. He nodded back and rode toward the courtyard.

"Uncle!" a high-pitched voice called out as he dismounted and gave his horse to the stable hand. And a little girl of nine name-days jumped happily into his arms. "Arya, how are you, little wolf?" He asked, and Arya became solemn after that word. "What, wrong? Just a second ago, you were happy." He asked. "You called me little wolf, and Jon always called me that. And he has been gone for about two weeks now. Saying little wolf made me think about him, and it made me sad." Arya said unhappily.

"Oh, I'm sorry Arya didn't know. Where is Jon gone, too?" He asked, curious now, was it because Jon, his brother, had asked him to come? He wondered to himself. "He, gone too, Lord Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch. Jon said he went on his own accord. But hearing what my mother did. I find that hard to believe." Arya retorted.

His heart sank as Arya's words reached his ears. He knew Jon was no longer at Winterfell, but the mention of Greywater Watch and the anger in Arya's voice stirred a mix of emotions within him. He gently touched Arya's shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"I'm sorry, Arya. I didn't mean to upset you," he spoke softly, his voice tinged with regret. "Jon went to Greywater Watch voluntarily? And what did your mother do?"

Arya took a deep breath, steeling herself to recount the painful memories. She looked into his eyes, her voice laced with anger and sadness. "Uncle Benjen, you need to know something about Jon and how Lady Stark treated him."

His brows furrowed in concern, urging Arya to continue. He could sense the weight of her words, and his heart clenched with anticipation. Also, after saying mother once, Arya used Lady Stark as a term to describe her mother. It seemed the youngest daughter of House Stark didn't agree with her mother.

"It all started when you were away for the Greyjoy Rebellion," Arya began, her voice filled with bitterness. "Lady Stark took charge of the household, and people followed her lead. She reminded Jon of his position as a bastard, constantly undermining him and favoring Robb."

Arya's hands clenched into fists as she continued. "She subjected Jon to cruel punishments. He was sent to bed without food for days when he beat Robb or even got slapped. It was like she wanted to break him, to make him feel less than he was."

Her voice trembled with anger, and tears welled up in her eyes. "When father returned, it only got worse. Lady Stark started with subtle things, like denying Jon new clothes or providing less food. She even made the food salty to punish him. And if he accidentally crossed paths with her after beating Robb, she would slap him."

His face paled with shock and fury as he listened to Arya's account. His grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles turning white. How could Catelyn Stark, his own goodsister, treat Jon so cruelly? It wasn't Jon's fault Ned was unfaithful to her. He could understand that she didn't accept him. But actively punishing him was way over the line. 

Arya took a deep breath to steady herself, her voice shaking with emotion. "Jon endured all of that alone, Uncle. He locked himself away, studying and practicing alone in the first keep, just to avoid her wrath. But he wasn't completely alone. The servants helped him when they could, leaving food in the kitchen or giving it to Old Nan, who taught him how to knit." She said mournfully.

Benjen's eyes brimmed with a mixture of sorrow and rage. He reached out, gently placing a hand on Arya's shoulder. "Thank you for telling me, Arya. I had no idea... Jon didn't deserve any of this. He deserved love and acceptance, not cruelty and mistreatment." He said detrimentally.

"I have to talk to your father and make sure this doesn't happen again," he said to Arya, determination in his voice. "Don't worry, Benjen. Father has already taken steps. He has asked Maege Mormont to come and take over the household for some time until Lady Stark changes her ways. But so far, there have already been clashes between her and Maege. She thinks she is savage, and girls shouldn't learn swordplay," Arya said with a scowl.

"Well, you are a Northerner, and it's pretty normal for them to learn that. But being a lady isn't bad either. Your aunt was both," he said, smiling at how much his niece resembled his sister.

"Brother," a voice said from behind, smiling at him. He turned around, and there stood his brother, Ned. "Ned," he said dryly, and Ned hugged him, to which he reluctantly hugged back. "How was your ride?" Ned asked.

"Easy, no summer snows, so the journey was quick," he replied curtly.

"Brother, come to the crypts where we can talk, and Arya, go to your lessons," Ned instructed, his tone stern. "Of course, brother, let's go to the crypts," He said, following his brother toward the crypt.

As they descended into the crypts, the cold air clung to their skin, and the echoes of their footsteps mingled with the whispers of the past. The statues of their ancestors, frozen in time, watched over them with silent reverence. They stop at their father's, brother and sister's statues.

"Ned, how could you let your own son be treated like that?" He scowled at his older brother.

"I know, Benjen. I will carry that guilt that I didn't protect Jon. But now, we have a chance to make things right. Jon is at Greywater Watch, where he can learn in peace and uncover more truths about his past."

His anger subsided slightly as he considered Ned's words. "Greywater Watch? And what truth is that?"

Ned took a deep breath, looking directly into his eyes. "Jon's true name is Aenar Targaryen. He is the legitimate heir to the Iron Throne. It is a secret I have kept hidden, even from Jon, for his own safety. The plan was to let him learn his parentage when he turned sixteen nameday, but something had other plans." His brother said with relief in his voice.

A wave of shock washed over him as he struggled to absorb the revelation. 'Jon or Aenar was their sister's son.' He thought happily. "Aenar Targaryen, Jon is Lya's boy? The true heir? And you kept this from him and me for all these years? Why not tell him earlier, and what of this something?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and frustration.

Ned nodded solemnly, his gaze never wavering. "I did what I believed was necessary to protect him, to ensure his survival. However, a prophetic dream made Jon, or rather Aenar, realize the importance of uncovering his true parentage. With Aenar at Greywater Watch and the presence of Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, there, he will have the guidance and support he needs. Furthermore, it is a place where a bastard being trained to be king here would be difficult to discover."

His mind whirled with a torrent of emotions. The weight of Catelyn's mistreatment of Jon, his disappointment in Ned's choices, and now the revelation of Jon's true heritage bore down upon him. "I expect you to support your family and not approve of the child-murdering bastard who sits on the throne, as I told you Lyanna didn't want to marry Robert. But you didn't listen," he said firmly, his eyes burning with determination.

Wait, Arthur Dayne, he was dead, and Ned killed him at the Tower of Joy with the other two Kingsguard.

Ned's remorseful expression deepened, and he met his gaze with sincerity. "I know and will try to make up for my mistakes for the rest of my life. However, I know Jon carries the artifacts and documents that prove his heritage. Arthur Dayne spared my life because I was his king's family, and together, we devised this plan to ensure Jon's safety and prepare him for the role he is destined to play." Ned stated clearly.

A mix of astonishment and gratitude coursed through Benjen as he digested the revelation. 'Arthur spared his life. Were they on this plan together?' he thought to himself.

Ned nodded, a profound sadness lingering in his eyes. "Yes, they were bound by honor and loyalty. Arthur told me that Rhaegar had left those artifacts and documents at the Tower of Joy, believing that he might not return. But with Rhaegar's untimely demise on the Trident, it was up to Arthur and me to ensure their safekeeping, ready for Aenar to claim," Ned said.

"Where are they now, the documents and the artifacts?" Benjen asked. "Aenar took them with him when he went to Greywater Watch," Ned replied. "Well, it seems we are back in the game of southern politics again, brother. But rest assured, Aenar has my support. I will do what I can," Benjen declared with determination.

"It does me good to have that off my chest finally," Ned said, a small smile forming on his face. "I can imagine a secret like that is a burden to carry alone. But why haven't you told Lady Stark yet?" He asked, his voice laced with venom.

Ned's smile faded, replaced by a somber expression. "Catelyn... she was a good woman, or at least I thought she was, but I'm not so sure anymore with everything that she did with Aenar. She is so prideful, and her pride blinds her to the truth. She always feared that Aenar would usurp her trueborn children. I worried that revealing the truth would only fuel her suspicions and cause more harm. I couldn't risk the safety of Aenar or the stability of our family. Perhaps in the future, when plans for Aenar's future are being formed, I will tell her," Ned explained.

"Well, I join in the promise to uphold Lyanna's promise and protect her son. We will help him as best as we can," He declared with unwavering determination. "We will, brother," Ned said.

As they emerged from the crypts, the weight of their secrets and burdens felt a little lighter. They were prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead, united in their quest for justice and the restoration of a rightful king, the last piece of their beloved sister. He felt a glimmer of hope within him.

Robb Stark

Winterfell

He stood on the training grounds of Winterfell, his hand tightly gripping the hilt of his sword. He had been practicing diligently, honing his skills under the watchful eye of Ser Rodrik Cassel. The sound of clashing steel filled the air as he sparred with his master-at-arms, his muscles flexing with each swift movement.

He noticed a familiar figure approaching as the training session neared its end. It was his uncle Benjen, the black sheep of the family who had recently returned from his ranging beyond the Wall. His face broke into a smile as he lowered his sword and walked over to greet him.

"Uncle Benjen! It's good to see you," he exclaimed, embracing his uncle warmly. Benjen returned the embrace, a hint of pride in his eyes.

"Robb, you've grown into a fine warrior," Benjen said, clapping a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

His chest swelled with pride at his uncle's words. Benjen had always been a source of inspiration for him, with his tales of adventure and bravery beyond the Wall. The two of them had a special bond, and he cherished the moments they spent together.

"Care for a friendly spar?" He suggested a mischievous glint in his eyes. Benjen raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"I wouldn't turn down a challenge from my nephew," Benjen replied, unsheathing his sword. The two of them took their positions on the training grounds, their blades clashing in a dance of skill and strength.

They traded blows for what seemed like hours, each trying to outmaneuver the other. Robb marveled at his uncle's agility and quick reflexes, realizing he could learn much from him. Despite the intense sparring, they had an underlying sense of camaraderie and familial love.

As the sun began to set, signaling the end of their training session, he and Benjen sheathed their swords and returned to the castle. The aroma of a sumptuous feast wafted through the halls, drawing them closer to the Great Hall, where the Starks would gather for dinner.

The hall was filled with laughter and chatter as family and friends took their seats. He found himself seated beside his younger sister, Arya. He glanced around the table, feeling a pang of sadness as he noticed the empty chair where his half-brother Jon used to sit.

Arya caught his gaze and reached out to squeeze his hand. "I miss Jon too, Robb," she whispered, her voice filled with understanding. "But we have each other, and our family will always be here for us."

He smiled gratefully at Arya, grateful for her unwavering support. He knew he could count on his siblings, his father, and even his unpredictable uncle Benjen in need. They were his strength and rock, a united front against the challenges ahead.

He stood at the head of the long dining table in the Great Hall of Winterfell, a goblet of wine in his hand. The room was filled with warmth and laughter as the Starks gathered for a family dinner. His eyes scanned the faces of his loved ones, his heart swelling with both joy and a tinge of sadness.

His gaze landed on the empty seat where his half-brother Jon used to sit. Jon had left Winterfell to pursue his own path, and everyone deeply felt the absence of his presence. He knew he had to acknowledge Jon somehow to let him know he was still loved and missed.

Raising his goblet high, he spoke with a mixture of pride and longing in his voice. "To my brother Jon, who is off on his own journey, may he find strength and wisdom in the road ahead. We raise our cups to him, a true Stark in heart and spirit."

A hush fell over the Great Hall as his words resonated through the air. The guests exchanged glances, some nodding in agreement while others wore expressions of curiosity or disapproval. But the scowl on Lady Catelyn Stark's face

Catelyn, his mother, had always harbored a certain resentment towards Jon, seeing him as a threat to her own children's inheritance. Her disapproval was evident in how she tightened her grip on her wine goblet, her gaze fixed on him.

Despite the celebratory atmosphere, he couldn't help but feel a lingering anger towards his mother for her treatment of Jon. He glanced at Arya, who sat beside him, and saw a similar determination in her eyes. They both shared a deep bond with Jon and understood the injustice he faced.

Arya leaned closer to Robb and whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of anger and sadness, "Mother's disdain for Jon is unjust. He is our brother, and he deserves better."

Robb nodded, his jaw clenched. "I know, Arya. It's a difficult situation, but we must rise above it. Jon is a part of our family, and we won't let anyone forget that."

Their shared resentment towards their mother only strengthened their bond as siblings. Robb and Arya found solace in each other's understanding and vowed to support one another in their quest for justice and unity within their family.

As the dinner continued, the atmosphere lightened again, the sounds of conversation and laughter filling the air. Robb couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of connection with his remaining family members, especially Arya, who had grown closer to him since Jon's departure.

Their mother's disapproval lingered, casting a shadow over the familial gathering, but Robb and Arya were determined to stand by their principles and protect their brother's honor. They knew their path wouldn't be easy, but together, they would strive to mend the fractures in their family and build a stronger bond.

As the evening progressed, he and Arya engaged in animated conversations with their siblings and friends, their voices filled with warmth and determination. They found solace in each other's presence, drawing strength from their shared conviction to defy the divisions that threatened to tear their family apart.

Deep down, he knew that healing the wounds within their family would take time and effort. But he was willing to fight for his siblings, for the unity they once had and could reclaim. Together, they would navigate the complexities of their family dynamics and forge a future where love and understanding prevailed.

As the feast drew to a close, he and Arya exchanged a knowing glance. They were united in their resolve, ready to confront the challenges that lay ahead. Their anger towards their mother hadn't dissipated, but they were determined to channel it into positive action to restore the bonds that had been strained.

Fueled by their shared determination, he and Arya decided to engage in a friendly spar before retiring for the night. They found solace in physical activity, channeling their emotions into the dance of combat.

In the courtyard of Winterfell, under the watchful gaze of the moon and the stars, he and Arya faced each other with swords in hand. Their movements were fluid and synchronized, a testament to their bond as siblings. With each clash of steel, they pushed themselves to their limits, honing their skills and finding solace in physical exertion.

The tension and anger they felt toward their mother dissipated as they sparred. The rhythmic exchange of blows brought a sense of catharsis, allowing them to release their frustrations and find clarity in their thoughts. At that moment, it was just him and Arya, united in their sibling bond, supporting each other through the trials they faced.

The spar continued for a while, the sound of their swords echoing through the courtyard. Robb and Arya matched each other's movements gracefully and precisely, their shared determination evident in their eyes. With each strike, they forged a stronger connection, understanding that their strength as a family lay in their blood ties and their unwavering support for one another.

As the spar ended, he and Arya stood there, breathing heavily, their bodies covered in sweat. They exchanged a nod, a silent acknowledgment of the strength they had found within themselves and each other. The anger they once harbored towards their mother had transformed into a fierce determination to protect their family and honor their brother Jon.

The one positive thing about Jon's departure is that he got closer to Arya, training her with Theon, and sometimes little Bran joined them. Hopefully, they can all spar and have fun together when Jon returns. He thought as he closed his eyes and drifted off into sleep.

(There is not much dialogue with Robb in the chapter, but just some insight into the world at Winterfell without Jon there.)

Daenerys Targaryen

Where??

As she heard waves crashing on the shore, she slowly opened her eyes, finding herself standing on a black stone platform surrounded by gargoyles resembling dragons. A boy, a little taller than her, with grey-purple eyes, dark brown curls, and fair skin, stood before her. His face slightly resembled Viserys's, which gave her shivers, but he smiled warmly when he saw her.

"Finally, I meet another dragon," the stranger said as he approached her. Confused by his words, she replied, "I am not a dragon like my brother; he always calls himself that."

"My lady, I went to sleep just moments ago, and now I find myself here. Although I didn't expect to see one of the shades shown to me," the boy said, leaving her puzzled.

"Shades? What do you mean? And where are we? Who are you?" she asked, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Sorry for my manners, my lady. We are on Dragonstone. I have come here in my dreams for the past two weeks. Every time there were two shades, the other dragons. Or at least now, one has gone, and beauty stands before me," he explained, revealing the location and his mysterious encounters. She blushed a little when he called her beauty.

"But, my brother is a dragon, not me. I'm just a girl. But who are you? I only know of myself and my brother. The rest of my family is dead," she said with anguish.

"Well, let me enlighten you. I'm Aenar Targaryen," the stranger answered, attempting to say more, but she interrupted him, saying loudly, "What, no, that can't be. My brother and I are the last of our house," gasping in shock.

"Well, that's true. You wouldn't know otherwise, and neither does the world, for that matter. I just learned that truth two moons ago," he revealed.

"How so?" she asked.

"Well, that has something to do with the fact that my brother and sister were both brutally murdered by Tywin Lannister's dogs. To protect me from a similar fate, my mother asked my uncle to protect me from the current king's wrath," Aenar explained, causing her to nod and frown.

"But how can that be? Aegon and Rhaenys didn't have any other siblings," she questioned, speaking her thoughts aloud.

"I am a half-sibling. My mother was Lyanna Targaryen, the wife of Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen," Aenar said, widening her eyes with his revelation.

"No, it can't be. You are my nephew, my brother's son? Did Rhaegar truly kidnap Lyanna, or was she the one that she seduced as my brother tells it?" She gasped aloud, her mind filled with questions about her newfound nephew.

"Well, yes. All the lies you hear about the rebellion are untruths, except for a few perspectives. So, what's your name, aunt?" Aenar said with a chuckle.

"My name is D..." she began to say, and everything turned to black. She woke up in her chambers, gasping for breath. The first light of dawn painted the room in a delicate glow as Daenerys stirred from her slumber, her mind still lingering in the hazy realm of dreams. The revelation that had unfolded during the night tugged at the corners of her consciousness, its weight threatening to consume her thoughts.

'Could it be true? Could she truly possess a trueborn nephew named Aenar Targaryen?' The notion seemed both bewildering and exhilarating, challenging the very foundation of her understanding of herself and her place in the world. At only twelve years old, she found herself confronted with a legacy she had never anticipated.

Throwing back the covers, she rose from her bed, her bare feet grazing the cool floor. She moved towards the window, drawing the curtains aside and allowing the sun's gentle rays to spill into the room. Her silver-gold locks cascaded around her shoulders, framing her youthful face, which now bore the weight of newfound knowledge.

Deep in thought, she dressed in a simple gown, the fabric whispering against her skin as she made her way through the halls of the Myrish manse where she and her brother currently resided. She sought him out, hoping to find clarity and validation in his presence.

Viserys was engrossed in conversation with a Myrish merchant when she approached, her steps tentative yet resolute. She stood at a distance, observing her brother's features - the sharp angles of his face, the piercing intensity of his eyes. It was a familiar and enigmatic visage, a testament to the complexities that lay within.

"Viserys," she called out softly, her voice barely a whisper carried on the breeze. Her brother turned towards her, his gaze shifting from the merchant to Daenerys, a hint of impatience flickering across his face.

"What is it, Daenerys? You get your nameday gift in the evening? Can't you see I am occupied?" he snapped, his voice laced with irritation.

Oh, she had totally forgotten it was her nameday. It warmed her heart that her brother at least remembered that.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. "Viserys, I must speak with you about a revelation that has come to me. In my dreams, a voice whispered of a trueborn nephew named Aenar Targaryen."

Viserys's expression contorted with a mix of surprise and anger. "Preposterous!" he exclaimed, his voice rising sharply. "Do not burden me with your fanciful tales, Daenerys. You are my sister, and I will not entertain such flights of fantasy. I'm the last dragon and the King. So don't bother me with that again." Viserys scowled.

Her heart sank, her excitement slowly giving way to a sense of betrayal. She had hoped for understanding, for a connection to her family's past that could anchor her uncertain future. Instead, she was met with denial and anger, leaving her adrift in a sea of unanswered questions.

"But Viserys, I am certain that this revelation holds some truth," she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation.

"No more of this nonsense! Our father and brother didn't have any other children," Viserys spat, his words dripping with disdain. He turned away from her, dismissing her presence as inconsequential.

She stood there, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, as her brother resumed his conversation with the merchant, as though the revelation she had shared meant nothing to him. He would never listen to her. Perhaps the kind brother she had once known in Braavos would. But he was gone the moment they had to sell her mother's crown for food.

She hoped she would meet Aenar again. 'He gave a kind expression, or at least that was the expression she got from him, and she couldn't say her name,' she thought sadly. She needed it desperately, as no one cared for her anymore, not even her brother. Or he did, but not for the loving reason she had come to understand.

'Perhaps she would have had a future with her nephew if that was true.' She thought hopefully as she looked at the Narrow Sea.

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