Chapter 6: Friends or family

Jon got out of bed and looked out of the window. After a sennight with nothing but rain, it was nice to see the sun breaking through the clouds. He smiled. Today would be a great day. Today would be the first day since his new friend's arrival that they would be able to venture outside.

***

One day, a few moons after Jon's sixth name day the Warden of the North had arrived at Greywater watch for an official visit to house Reed . The first time Jon saw Lord Eddard of house Stark, Jon had been training in the yard. His obligatory lesson had just finished but Jon was still repeating the moves he had learned. Lord Stark had startled him when he had interrupted Jon's movements. He had given him some pointers to ameliorate his stance.

Jon had been struck mute by the commanding presence of the man. To him, the Lord of Winterfell looked larger than life. However Lord Stark had been patient and kind to Jon. After a few moments, Jon had been able to stammer a greeting and a thank you.

This was the start of their strange relationship. The great Lord, whose visit lasted for two sennights that time, would often seek Jon out. He could also be seen talking to Jon's ever-present shadows. After a few days, Jon had shed his shy reluctance and had started to open up.

Jon had found out that Lord Stark was the big brother of his 'Uncle' Benjen. Did that make him kind of an 'uncle' to him as well? 'Was that why he wants to get to know me? He had wondered about this more than once.

One morning shortly after breaking their fast, Lord Stark had invited Jon for a trip to the Godswood here at Greywater Watch. They had walked side by side, both soaking up the peaceful atmosphere of the sacred place. No words had been necessary. After a while, Lord Stark had invited Jon to sit down against an old oak tree and did the same.

"This must be the finest Godswood in the entire realm," he had told Jon quietly. "The Godswood in Winterfell is impressive as well, but here it feels as if the presence of the Old Gods is stronger. At least that is what I sense deep down." He looked over to his nephew. "Benjen told me you worship the Old Gods?"

Jon had simply nodded. As Lord Stark kept eying him expectantly Jon had felt safe to elaborate. "Lord Reed is a very inspiring teacher and when Uncle Benjen is at Greywater Watch he always takes me with him on his visits to the Godswood. He was the one who taught me how to pray initially. Uncle Benjen's Gods are now my Gods. Every time I visit this place I can sense the Gods welcoming my presence. It feels as if they have accepted me despite my being born in the South."

He had looked over to Lord Stark. "Does that make any sense?"

"It actually makes a lot of sense, Jon. I am glad you have embraced the Old Gods. I hope they can help you as they do me. There is no place like a Godswood to help you clear your mind. Working through your problems is easier if you can focus. I've solved many a dilemma during my prayers in the Godswood."

Jon had been amazed that the Warden of the North had opened up to him like this. It had been the first time that he saw a vulnerable side to the man. Jon had always looked up to this formidable Lord ruling a large Kingdom never imagining that the Warden of the North could struggle with things as well. He knew Uncle Benjen admired his older brother.

"Talk to me about your lessons. Can you tell me what your favourite topics are? Are there things you are having difficulty with?" he had heard Lord Stark ask.

"I'm learning all kind of things. Most of them I like. I greatly enjoyed learning the names of the great houses of the Crownlands, their sigils, their words, customs and their alliances. I loved to boast to the Maester how I could recite them all by heart. But then he came up with more. He makes me learn about all the big and minor houses of the entire realm and the Stepstones until I think my head will burst." Jon realising he had been whining, had tried to change his tone.

"I think I am good with languages. I adore my physical education although I would like to learn to fight for real. I would prefer to spend more time on that instead of being stuck inside for another lesson with the Maester. He can be boring."

"Lessons cannot help but be boring sometimes. But you should remind yourself that they are necessary. Knowledge is power, you know. I am still learning new things every day, mostly through experience now, which is a lot less tedious than a lesson from a Maester but I am learning all the same.

Facts that seem dull to you now, may come in handy later, for instance during trade negotiations or settling disputes. I sometimes have to negotiate marriage alliances for the sons and daughters of my bannermen and am grateful for every detail I know about their history. Knowledge also helps me keep the North prosper and the people well-fed." Lord Stark had smiled at the boy. "I hope I am not the one who is boring you now?"

Jon had blushed. "No, my Lord, I am grateful for your advice."

In reality, he had soaked up every word. As of that moment, he had a new resolution. He would make the most of the education and opportunities he was offered. He realised that, although life seemingly had dealt him a bad card when you considered the fact that he had been orphaned only days after he was born, he had also been really lucky to have been assigned such a great support system.

That grateful feeling had diminished a bit however when Lord Stark had told him about his son and daughters, Jon had grown quiet. Six-year-old Jon had been sad to see Lord Eddard Stark leave.

'In the end, it had taken more than four years before Lord Stark sent Robb to him', Jon thought a little aggrieved. 'He could have sent him sooner.'

****

The two ten-year-olds had hit it off immediately and had become inseparable from the very first day. Being almost the same age, they challenged each other. Robb was adequately versed in his knowledge of the great houses of Westeros. Jon however could boast a better grasp of foreign languages.

Robb had been surprised that Jon was even taught the old tongue of the North. Very few people of the North knew that that language still existed. And when Jon started to speak fluently in High Valyrian, Robb had had to confess that he only knew a few words. Later, in the bedroom they shared, Jon had shyly related that he could write that language as well, showing his new friend the letters that he wrote once a moon to a Maester of the Night's Watch who was more proficient at correcting them than his teacher at Greywater Watch.

Robb being the elder by two moons often played this as his trump card during games. "The elder must always start," being one of his examples. Robb had more experience playing children's game and used all kind of tricks Jon had not known existed to evade Jon while playing tag.

However when Robb used his 'I'm the eldest'-card during their indoor lessons, he wasn't as successful. Jon smiled thinking back on a hilarious mistake Robb had made yesterday during a geography lesson. Jon could teach Robb a thing or two about geography if he so wished. Robb either didn't have a good teacher at Winterfell or hadn't paid enough attention. Jon suspected the latter since his new friend seemed intelligent enough.

Robb told him plenty about his home, Winterfell. Jon had heard about the castle before of course, mostly from 'Uncle' Benjen. However, Robb described Winterfell from the point of view of a young boy and Jon was riveted by his stories.

"You know, they all call me 'my Lord'. Even if they are at least three times as old as me. Some even bow, although it will be ages before I will ever become their actual Lord. The servants almost trip over themselves to be the one to open the door for me, or be best placed to serve me my food. Even the Lords of the North always go out of their way to be amicable."

Robb had smiled at Jon. "And all the while I am trying not to show how intimidated I am by them while they are presenting their cases when Father is absent."

"You're hearing their cases?" Jon's eyes had asked wide-eyed.

"Well, they only bring the small issues forth when Father is not there. Also, Master Luwin and Mother flank me and I hardly have to say a word. As I said, I try not to piss my pants." Both of them had giggled.

Robb had entertained Jon with tales of his siblings, how different Arya and Sansa were, how glad he was that his youngest sibling had been a boy although it would take a long time before they could spar together, and how much he looked forward to teaching Bran all he knew once this brother was old enough. He had also described the snow and the hot spring in the Godswood at Winterfell. Robb seemed not to mind answering Jon's never-ending stream of questions.

Jon did envy Robb. Not only was Robb's father someone important, but Robb was also a real nephew of Jon's 'Uncle' Benjen, and not an adopted one as Benjen Stark and Jon had both agreed to call it. Robb also had two sisters, a little brother and a mother. Robb's mother had lived through four childbeds already. Jon's mother, however … Jon redirected his thoughts. No use dwelling on this, better enjoy the change of weather while it lasted. He started to dress in clothes fit for playing and sparring outside.

Jon couldn't help dwelling some more on the difference between his and Robb's life. Greywater Watch was the only place Jon could call home even as it wasn't, not really. Lord Reed did his best to act like a father to him. He treated Jon kindly, always made time after supper to discuss his day with him. Several lessons were given by Lord Reed personally. But he wasn't family, not really.

Lord Reed's daughter, well she was a girl and whenever she was in his company she vied for his attention . Jon indulged her but her girly games were not his cup of tea and his schedule didn't afford him much time to interact with the girl anyhow. Her brother, Jojen was only five and a rather peculiar child. Jon preferred the outdoors, Jojen, on the other hand, preferred to stay indoors doing… Actually, Jon didn't know what the boy did all day. He mostly only saw him during meals and the small, fragile looking boy hardly uttered a word.

'I am not entitled to be ungrateful', Jon reprimanded himself, 'I have a good life here, even if it sometimes can be a bit lonely. Besides my three shadows can be entertaining company if I get them to loosen up and I mustn't forget Max.'

***

In the courtyard where they would shortly start their first real sparring session, the boys were putting on their armour that consisted of pieces of boiled leather awkwardly fitted to match their slender bodies. Due to a spell of bad weather, they had been limited to indoor physical exercises that enhanced muscular strength and endurance. They had noticed they had been taught different drills in the past. Robb had shown Jon some typical Northern fighting moves which looked a bit rough to Jon but he could see how they could make a strike more powerful. Jon guessed their fighting styles would be rather different as well and couldn't wait to spar with Robb if they were allowed. He hoped so!

"Be glad it is Ser Oswell today," Jon informed Robb, "Ser Arthur would surely take your sword away and work on your stance for an entire training session."

"There is nothing wrong with my stance!" Robb protested.

"I didn't say there was," Jon placated his friend. "It is just Ser Arthur's way. You will find out soon enough. And then you cannot say I didn't warn you. Ser Arthur is a perfectionist."

***

"Ready boys?" Ser Oswell had entered the courtyard unnoticed while the boys were enjoying each other's company. He smiled when he noticed them startle. 'It will be good for my King to have a boy his age to keep him company for a time,' he thought. 'Robb seems like a nice lad.' The knight adopted a stern expression taking on the role of a strict teacher.

"Well, where are your training swords? Don't just stand there idle! Show me what you have learned so far!" He addressed his King's cousin. "Robb Stark, you go first! I will attack you from the right a few times and then swing at your left. Let me see how well you can defend yourself."

Out of the corner of his eyes, Ser Oswell noticed Jon was studying Robb's movements keenly taking in the boy's reaction to Ser Oswell's attacks. He was proud of his King. Such observations would help him since Robb Stark had been taught a completely different fighting style.

Jon moved more during fights, often deflecting strikes totally or meeting the thrusts when they were losing momentum. He also knew how to use an opponent's power against him making him lose balance. Jon had learned to be patient and wait for an opening. Robb on the other hand liked to meet his opponent's strikes head-on throwing his body weight forward. The boy tried to switch from defence to attack every time he parried.

"Your turn, Jon!" Ser Oswell had gone easy on Robb, but still, the boy was sweating profusely and it was time to allow him a moment of respite. "You need to conserve your energy in a fight, Robb Stark. Rest up while I'll give Jon his warming up session. You will want to be rested when you face him next."

Ser Oswell repeated the same exercises with Jon but made subtle changes in his angles not striking the same places over and over as he had done with Robb. 'We taught our King well', he couldn't help think to himself. 'Well it would be a shame if a knight of the Kingsguard wouldn't achieve a better result than a master-at-arms of a northern keep, but I am glad to see it confirmed all the same.'

"Both of you can take a short break and don't forget to drink a cup of water. When we resume you will face each other. Now dismissed!" Ser Oswell ordered. He was enjoying himself. He knew that Ser Gerold was watching the entire training session from a window higher up. Ser Arthur would be very disappointed to learn that he wasn't here to witness the first time their protégé took on a trained opponent of similar age and see how their combined efforts over the years had already made their protégé substantially superior to his peers.

The boys were eager to end their break so they could spar. They both took up starting position before Ser Oswell told them to. To their credit, both boys waited for the knight to give the signal.

Even though Jon had paid close attention during Robb's earlier bout with Ser Oswell, the knight saw Jon was forced to take a step back as the other boy's initial strike hit him at full strength. Jon almost tripped and could only deflect the strike in the nick of time. He quickly adjusted his stance and successfully countered Robb's subsequent attacks, often simply evading them. Robb clearly frustrated by this but still filled with confidence due to the success of his first big strike, overextended a swing and Jon had his opening. His sword point firmly fixed in Robb's armpit he called out. "Yield".

He saw Robb's look of surprise. It was clear the boy never had been defeated in less than fifteen strikes by someone his age. His King, kind as always, made a valid attempt to soften the blow.

"Let's try again, I simply got lucky." And both boys resumed their starting positions.

"Robb Stark, you don't need to put all your strength into each strike to hurt your opponent. How much strength you use at the time is less important than the spot you hit. Study your opponent. Search for his weakness," Ser Oswell encouraged Robb.

Robb nodded, a determined look appeared on his face. This time the boys circled each other for a bit. Robb had decided to let Jon make the first move. Jon executed a combination of strikes that Ser Arthur had taught him a moon ago. He had made Jon repeat them at least a hundred times until the lad's muscles were no longer able to lift a sword only to have him repeat the same exercise the next day.

As was to be expected, Robb had trouble with the speed of Jon's strikes. Ser Oswell immediately spotted the moment his King decided to hold back. It was obvious that Jon didn't want to humble his new friend any more than necessary. His King wouldn't allow his friend to win, but he made an admirable effort to lengthen the bout. Jon had made slight adjustments to his initial battle plan and allowed Robb push him into defence without it looking too obvious.

Ser Oswell forced himself to quit studying Jon's movements and switched his attention to Robb Stark, to detect which piece of advice would have the most immediate effect. It wouldn't do to change the lad's northern fighting style that relied mostly on strength, but he could give Robb a few pointers so the boy could avoid giving his opponent so many openings and he could certainly give him tips on how to conserve energy.

***

Jon and Robb were seated on a bench in the corner of the courtyard. The training session was over and they were exhausted and sweaty. Robb looked at Jon. "You weren't kidding when you said they like to drill you to the point of breaking, or when you told me how they make you repeat the same moves over and over again. I don't think I have ever been this weary."

He studied the younger boy closely and continued. "You're lucky to have such a skilled teacher. And you claim you have three?" Robb shook his head. "I thought you were too skinny to hurt me much, but the speed of your swings is amazing. I hope they can teach me how to do that."

"Do you realise that I have never ever lost to another boy in less than ten strokes at Winterfell? Not even to Theon Greyjoy and he is more than a year older than me! I always believed I was a natural at swordplay." Robb tried his best not to be a sore loser.

"You are a good fighter Robb. I just fight a little differently. You have to analyse how your opponent fights and then figure out how to beat him. You will do better in a few days. Besides, you will have the benefit of my teachers for a few moons and when you return to Winterfell you can soundly beat this Theon Greyjoy, perhaps even in under ten strokes." Jon teasingly nudged Robb's shoulder. "Who is this Theon by the way? You haven't mentioned him before."

"Theon Greyjoy is a year older than us. He arrived at Winterfell a few moons before I left and will live with us for a few years. My father had to take him in on King Robert's orders. His family was defeated in the Greyjoy Rebellion and he stays with us to ensure that his father will not attack again." Robb explained

"So he is an Ironborn, a Kraken?" Jon's eyes were wide as saucers now. "Is he civilized enough to live with you? I was taught that the Ironborn live the 'Old Way' and only use things they stole."

"Yes, he is a Greyjoy, the only son left of the ruling Lord." Robb sighed. "Father told us to give him a chance. He said we could teach him our ways. He will not be allowed to steal anything and we will provide him with clothes and other things. But he boasts all of the time. Tells us all kind of things he has already done, even with girls!"

Jon looked at Robb, the shock turning his cheeks red. He kept silent hoping that Robb would tell him more.

"He challenges me at every opportunity. I've already been punished several times for going along with one of his crazy plans. The last time Father become so angry that I believed his decision to send me to Greywater Watch was some kind of punishment but now I think that I got that wrong." He smiled at Jon. "Being here feels more like a reward to me." He shifted a bit closer to Jon. "I really like spending time with you."

Jon blushed and shyly returned Robb's smile. "I really like spending time with you too, Robb. You are my best friend even if," he paused and gave Robb a shy glance, "even if you are my only friend that is not an adult." A comfortable silence ensued.

"You know," Robb was the one to start talking again, "I overheard Lord Reed as he was talking to the Maester. They were discussing the date of my return Winterfell. But you will want to know what they said after that." Robb whispered mysteriously. He couldn't wait to tell Jon but enjoyed the moment of suspense he had created.

"You have to go back earlier than planned?" Jon ask sounding defeated.

"No! If anything, I am staying longer! But they were talking about you accompanying me to Winterfell. Father invited you, Jon!" Robb's enthusiasm was contagious.

Jon lightened up and studied Robb to see whether he was serious. "Really? I get to see Winterfell? Are you sure that is what you heard? I will have a chance to meet your brother and sisters?" Jon paused, then he all but shouted, "Will Uncle Benjen be there?"

Robb grinned. "Of course, I am sure. They were not suggesting it, they were talking logistics. What to take, who would accompany you." Robb paused for a moment and frowned "You know, you are right. You are never allowed to go anywhere alone, not here and certainly not to Winterfell." Robb threw a pointed look in Ser Gerold's direction. The knight was sitting in the opposite corner of the courtyard, not actually listening to the boys but keeping an eye on them all the same.

"I told you so," Jon answered quietly, "Sometimes I make up stories. For instance, I imagine that I am some rich orphan, the son from a noble man from Essos who fled to Westeros and these three knights were hired to keep me safe from assassins."

"Kind of like the two Targaryens living in the free cities?" Robb asked.

"Kind of, but the other way around since they fled to Essos, I guess." Jon agreed. "What's more," his voice had dropped to a whisper, "Can you keep a secret?"

Robb nodded, he was intrigued by Jon's secretive behaviour.

Jon whispered insistently. "I mean not tell anyone, not even your parents, not your siblings, certainly not the Kraken. This is important, Robb. You have to solemnly promise me before I can reveal anything."

Robb with a serious but sincere expression complied. "I will vow on my Stark honour and swear by the old Gods not to reveal a single thing you do not want me to."

Jon smiled at the freely given oath of his friend. "I have a dog," Jon started his explanation.

Robb looked confused. "So have I, several actually."

"I am not done yet," Jon replied. "I hope you will believe me. So, I have this dog, I named him Max. Well, Max and I sort of bonded."

Robb frowned "Bonded?"

"Bonded," Jon confirmed. "I can see through his eyes, I can even tell him what to do."

"My dog loves me as well and obeys my commands." Robb was quick to spell out. "Hold on! What do you mean when you claim that you can see through his eyes?!"

Jon gave Robb a pertinent look. "For the Godssake! Keep your voice down! "When Robb nodded anxiously, Jon continued. "I mean exactly that. I can see what he sees." Jon closed his eyes for a moment. "At the moment Max is in the corridor leading to the kitchen. Shall I ask him to go inside and see what's for dinner?"

"That won't convince me," Robb pointed out. "Someone could have told you what we're going to eat tonight."

Jon pondered the issue. "Well, I can ask him to come out here and threaten to piss on your pants? Don't worry. He will only lift his leg and do nothing more but bark and start licking your boots."

"That's also a command a dog can learn." Robb fell silent, trying to come up with an impossible assignment. "Could you ask him to go to our bedroom We left the door open this morning so he should be able to enter. Order him to retrieve my blue pants. They should still be on the chair. If he can bring them here without you getting up from this bench, then I will believe you. Are you sure you can do that, Jon?"

"I'm positive. Now let me concentrate." Jon turned sideways so Robb couldn't see his eyes and didn't move for some time. Suddenly a small dog ran toward them with something blue dragging over the ground.

Ser Gerold studied Jon sternly. "Jon, come over here for a second."

Jon obeyed leaving Max with Robb so he could distract him. He preferred Robb not witnessing him receiving a scolding.

"Did you just do what I think you did?" Ser Gerold lifted his brow and stared accusingly at Jon.

"I did, Ser," Jon said a tad intimidated. "I discussed Max with Lord Reed since Robb will be living here for a few moons and I will still need to perform my mental exercises. Lord Reed decided it was better to tell Robb than to let him find out without us knowing. This way I could tell him upfront how important it was that he would tell no one about it. Besides, Lord Reed said you can trust a Stark when he gives his word. And I did just that. Robb even swore upon his Stark honour." Jon looked a little smug as he finished his explanation.

"You could have given me a heads up, lad" Ser Gerold grumbled. "Well, I guess I should be grateful you didn't prove it by letting him wet my boots."

Jon grinned, all tension between them resolved. "You know, I almost did," he teased and then ran away before the knight could retaliate.

When Jon returned to the bench where Robb was still playing with Max, Robb stated quietly.

"I believe you and you can rest assured, I will tell no one. It is amazing though. Can you explain this some more later this evening in our bedroom before we go to sleep? I bet there is more to this story."

Jon was relieved Robb was still as friendly as before he had shown him proof of his 'weirdness'. "I shall do my best to answer your questions. I don't know if I would call it a story though."

Robb satisfied with that answer jumped up from the bench. "Come on Jon," he ordered, loud enough for Ser Gerold to hear him. "Let's head inside and write a message to Uncle Benjen. We shall write that you are invited to Winterfell and will be coming with me when my stay here is over. I'm sure he will do his best to be there. But he needs to be forewarned. We can't leave it to chance!"

"Great idea Robb! Let's go!" Jon put his arm over Robb's shoulder and the two boys headed inside. Ser Gerold smiled as he left the courtyard in pursuit of the boys. It was nice to see his King enjoy himself.

Interlude 5: How Dany met Jon

Future glimpse

Daenerys was very happy, anxious, nervous perhaps, but very happy. A messenger had just returned from the docks. His ship had arrived. Soon Aegon would be here. She would finally get to meet her nephew in person. She called her Septa to join her in the sitting room and instructed the servants to prepare refreshments. 

Daenerys was a princess, be it an exiled princess. She was born on Dragonstone in Westeros but had been whisked away by Targaryen loyalists after her family lost the Iron Throne at the end of Robert's Rebellion. Her entire life she had been living in Pentos, hiding from the Baratheons, the house that now ruled the Seven Kingdoms.

Her earliest memories were of a modest house in Pentos with a red door. She and her brother had lived there with two protectors and a Septa, named Moelle. The latter had become more of a companion and teacher than a religious guide. Daenerys had studied the Seven-Pointed Star with her but had not been impressed by these so-called Gods. Life in that small house had been boring. They never had enough coin and at the end, Ser Darry their main protector had been half-blind and ailing.

But then, Daenerys could clearly remember the very moment that things had changed for the better. First, Ser Darry had received regular visits of the same two men. Not long after, they had moved into a large mansion with high walls and a sturdy looking iron gate. Guards and servants had been hired. For the first time in a long while, Daenerys had received new gowns and even a few toys. And when the inevitable happened and Ser Darry succumbed to his illness, his replacement had already been there for more than a year. Ser Jorah Mormont was now the head of their guard. He had quickly become a trusted advisor and often told her stories about the Northern Kingdom in Westeros where he had grown up.

If not for her brother falling ill, Daenerys would have been truly happy. Viserys was six years older than her and constantly talked about moving back to Westeros. He had told her all about Robert's Rebellion and the 'usurper' as he called the current King of the Seven Kingdoms. He had told her the same things over and over again. His account had gotten more fanatical with every rendition. But then there came a time that her brother was constantly delirious because of the high fever that raged through his body.

One day she came upon him as he was burning his hand with the flame of a candle. He had raved like a madman about dragons being resistant to fire and the only way to get him to calm down, was to drug him with a substantial amount of milk of the poppy. It had been the only way the Maester could get near enough to treat his burns. Viserys had never had a lucid moment after that.

The Maester had kept him sedated day and night. Each attempt to wean him off the medication and allow him to wake up had resulted in Viserys raving like a madman and looking for a means to burn himself. He had been obsessed with fire. This went on for many moons until one day, his heart, weakened by the constant drugging and inactivity, had given out.

Daenerys could remember that day as if it had been yesterday. She was truly alone in the world now. She had been depressed until the letter had come. Daenerys had been twelve at the time. The letter had been addressed to her, written by a boy who was twelve and claimed a kinship with her. He assured her that she was not alone in the world. He was her nephew and they also had an elderly relative living at the Wall, a certain Maester Aemon, Aemon Targaryen. The boy's letter was accompanied by a letter from Maester Aemon.

Her nephew's first communication was brought to her by a trusted messenger. Aegon had included an extra sheet that described a code they could use to hide the real content of their future correspondence. Since he knew that she was fluent in High Valyrian, he had used that fact to devise a complicated code she should use to encrypt their letters.

They would always combine two sentences. Write the first sentence in High Valyrian, the second sentence in the common tongue. Then they would alter each word by writing it backwards, for example 'word' became 'drow'. The next step was mixing the first and the second sentences combining them into one sentence, keeping the words in the right order, alternating words from each sentence: the first word of the first sentence, the first word of the second sentence, then the second word of the first sentence, and so on. Daenerys thought it was a brilliant idea and she had fun encoding her correspondence like that.

Ever since, messages had been exchanged regularly between the two of them. Occasionally she would also receive a short missive from Maester Aemon. Daenerys learned that Aegon lived in Westeros using a false name: 'Jon Celtigar'. He was born Aegon Targaryen and was the son of her brother Crown Prince Rhaegar and the Lady Lyanna of House Stark. According to Aegon, her brother had been wrong, the members of House Starks were not 'usurpers' bent on destroying Targaryens.

Only King Robert and the members of House Lannister were looking for her and would kill her if they got the chance. Fortunately, they didn't know about Aegon's existence yet. Aegon was half Targaryen and half Stark and House Stark had been instrumental in keeping him safe. She also learned that the people who protected Aegon were also the ones that had been sending the necessary coin to Pentos to help them. They had always kept a close eye on her and Viserys. All the servants and guards that had joined them after her fifth name day had been hired by them. Aegon further claimed that his entourage had thwarted several attempts on her life but in the same paragraph he had reassured her that they were confident she was safe in the mansion she now lived in.

If she still had any doubt left that Aegon was whom he claimed to be, she was certain after he told her about his two dragons. Her interest was piqued when he wrote that he owned another dragon egg and hoped that it was destined for her. He had explained how he had sensed straight away that two of the eggs were meant for him.

What he had felt exactly or how he had hatched the dragon eggs, he wouldn't put into writing, not even encoded. He promised to tell her if ever the moment came that she needed the information. Ever since reading that letter, she prayed the third egg would respond to her but most frequently she prayed for Aegon to stay safe and would find an opportunity to visit her. Now that she had something to look forward to, she could remain patient. For the first time since the death of her brother, she had felt a sense of belonging once more. She was not the last Targaryen.

Gradually the tone of the letters changed, Aegon sounded more confident no longer a boy, but a young man. What he told her were no longer vague ideas. Aegon started to inform her of plans to overthrow the Baratheon King and reclaim the Iron Throne for House Targaryen. To do so safely, they had enhanced their coded messages by substituting names and sensitive nouns by aliases.

Unlike Viserys' ramblings, her nephew's plans made sense. He had already garnered substantial support and had several plans in motion to gather even more allies. Besides he had dragons who were healthy and growing at a steady rate.

Then the letter arrived announcing that he intended to sail to Pentos. He had expressed how much he looked forward to meeting her in person. He had promised to be there within six moons if not earlier. And so it had happened. A few sennights before her sixteenth name day, Aegon's ship docked in the Bay of Pentos.

And now she sat here in her sitting room, softly talking with Moelle, wishing time would move faster. She forced herself to remain seated and not to look out of the window too often. But when she heard the heavy iron gates open, she jumped up and ran to the large window. She was in time to see three men on horseback enter the courtyard and dismount. They didn't linger but took big strides to reach the front door. Next thing she knew, a servant led him into the room.

Daenerys' heart beat so loudly, she wondered if her Septa could hear it. A young man entered, his dark eyes darting in all directions. They stilled when they fell on her as she stood stiffly beside her Septa. Another man followed him inside, scanned the room and took up position next to the door. 'Of course, a Targaryen Prince would not go anywhere without a guard.'

He bowed and she made a formal curtsy. Nobody had spoken a single word yet.

Daenerys knew from his letters that he didn't have the Targaryen colouring but the young man who stood before her was different from the image she had dreamed up after she had read his first letters. He bared no resemblance whatsoever to her or Viserys. He also didn't look like the few Westerosi she had encountered before.

At first glance, he was a handsome young man, strong, lean, clean-shaven, a fair face surrounded by cute dark curls. He seemed all that she had hoped for, all that she had expected even. But what struck her the most was his personality. Although he had been nervous the first few seconds, the way he held himself now was not the posture of a boy. Before her stood a man, a confident young man. At least that was her first impression.

When her eyes met his warm dark eyes, matching the description of the Stark grey she had been told about, she had been struck with a sense of belonging. She knew instantly that he was her kin. She could drown in these sensitive, intelligent orbs that were staring back at her with kindness.

Moelle smiled indulgently and did the honours. "My Lord, may I present to you Princess Daenerys Targaryen of House Targaryen, daughter of King Aerys II and Queen Rhaella. I am her Septa and go by the name of Moelle."

The young man introduced himself. "Prince Aegon also of House Targaryen, son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Your nephew greets you, aunt. Greetings to you too septa Moelle." His eyes, however, never left her face and the welcoming smile that lit up his features made him even more handsome.

"Well met, Aegon", she gave him her most welcoming smile. "Please call me Daenerys. We are kin and of similar age. Let us never mention again that I am technically your aunt."

"Thank you, Daenerys. I will do as you ask. And please, call me Jon for now. Nobody calls me Aegon just yet. I would probably look behind me to see whether there is another person in the room called Aegon." His smile grew even wider.

"Please have a seat", Daenerys offered, suddenly remembering that she was the hostess. "I shall call for refreshments."

And Aegon or rather Jon sat down facing her so they could start their first real conversation.

***

The days had flown by. Her nephew had dedicated a lot of time to her. They had taken lengthy strolls in the gardens. Most of the time they kept their conversation light talking about non-political topics, both making an effort to make the most of this time and get to know each other. Both were grateful to still have a living relative of similar age and how much of a relief it was not to be the last member of such an important house. Jon was glad that the Princess understood instinctively what the dragons meant to him and how he would never endanger them merely to attain more power.

During one of their last strolls, Daenerys built up the courage to broach a delicate subject. "Aegon, I mean, Jon, are you considering marriage alliances in Westeros to gain more allies? Are you already promised to someone?"

He blushed adoringly. When he finally started to talk, he sounded nervous. "I have been doing my utmost to avoid consenting to a betrothal and will keep doing this for as long as possible. It is not always easy to say no to my loyal entourage. Don't forget, they are all at least twice my age. My advisors never tire to remind me of the potential brides they find suitable. I always hear them out and promise to consider them. However, I have made it abundantly clear that the final decision lies with me."

As soon as he fell silent, the Prince relaxed and looked at her with that tempting smile that she knew well by now but still cherished as it lit up his serious features. He leaned her way, his mouth approaching her ear. He acted as if he was going to tell her a big secret. "Being the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, the One True King of Westeros, The Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, He who has Dragons, must come with some perks, don't you think so?" he had said mockingly.

Now the colour rose in her cheeks. Not because of his words, but because of the small puffs of his breath that tickled her ear and made her grow all warm inside.

***

He stayed an entire sennight in Pentos and introduced her to some of his companions. Of course, he travelled with his guards that hopefully in the not too distant future would be referred to as Knights of the Kingsguard but he had also brought some of his friends along.

They seemed a curious mix. There was Edric of House Dayne, the future lord of Starfall, Samwell of House Tarly, a shy be it somewhat overweight young man but a very close friend of the Targaryen Prince, then there was Gendry, a craftsman with an impressive physique. His accent betrayed his low origins but Aegon treated him the same as he treated his noble companions.

His guards also were a curious mix of personalities. Two of them were former members of the Kingsguard from the time the Targaryens still ruled Westeros. Although, considering that Jon, or rather Aegon, technically was the rightful King, they were still actual members of the Kingsguard. The third one was a large rather ugly looking man with rough manners and an even rougher vocabulary going by the name of Sandor Clegane. Daenerys was surprised to witness the casual manner of Aegon's interactions with this giant of a man and how much respect the strong warrior had for the Targaryen Prince. All these observations only heightened her esteem for her nephew.

It was evident that he was the leader of this strange group. It was his birthright of course, but his friends, as well as his guards, clearly worshipped Aegon. Moreover, he respected them in return and had a pleasant way of interacting with them. Her nephew would make a good sovereign.

All too soon it was time for Aegon to leave. Their goodbye was affectionate. He had enfolded her in his arms and had held on to her for a long time. She had shed a few tears but they were happy, hopeful ones or so Daenerys had reassured him when he had asked full of concern for her. She had added that now that she had seen him and heard more about his plans, she finally believed she would return to Westeros soon.

And Aegon had promised her. It would take them no longer than ten to twelve moons, he had stated with certainty. As soon as Dragonstone was freed from Stannis Baratheon, he would send a ship for her. Daenerys had nodded and smiled, even given him a quick peck on his cheek. Not long after he had left.

Daenerys had not lied to him. There had been a few happy tears among the ones she had shed. She looked forward to living in Westeros. She was determined to prepare herself for this new phase of her life. If she had it her way, she would be an asset to her nephew instead of a burden. She would educate herself so she could be an adviser to him, perhaps even help him rule behind the scenes?

Anyway, his considerate gifts would help her in this endeavour. Before Aegon had left, he had brought her two crates filled with books. He had explained that his friend Samwell Tarly had helped him with the selection. He had stressed that she only needed to read those that she was interested in. She needed to believe that these books were gifts only meant to please her and to answer the many questions she had about her homeland, not obligatory lessons. He had gazed in her eyes with such a kind and earnest look that she had not doubted for a moment that he only had the purest intentions. Besides, it was a thoughtful gift.

Several tomes contained the history of each of the Seven Kingdoms and enumerated all the Lords of the great Houses going back hundreds of years. One volume was dedicated to House Stark exclusively and described the known history of the former Kings of Winter going back almost ten thousand years. She had already read a small part of that one and had been riveted by the tale of Brandon the Builder. She couldn't wait to read more.

Then there were books on geography, books on keeping books. She remembered his teasing voice when he had phrased it like that. It was more a guide for the castellan of a keep. Several binders contained religious texts, smaller volumes full of folk tales, songs and poems that were rather popular in Westeros, also scrolls describing customs, clothing, court protocol.

But he had saved the best one for last. She had reverently touched the red leather cover of the large tome that Aegon had carefully laid out on the table before her. Her fingers had followed the raised pattern of the three-headed dragon that was printed on the beautiful brown leather cover. She had been moved beyond words. It had been the first time she had hugged him. She wondered if she could read them all before it was time to go home.