Chapter 15

Jon pulled out Newt Scamander's suitcase next, setting it on the ground and opening it with a flourish, demonstrating the seemingly endless capacity of the suitcase by placing a few items inside and watching them disappear into its depths.

Selina peered into the suitcase, her eyes wide with fascination. "Impressive. A perfect way to carry everything we need without being weighed down."

Diana nodded in agreement, clearly appreciating the utility. "This will certainly make our travels easier."

Jon glanced at the suitcase, an idea forming. "We should put Ghost, Midnight, Shadow, Vermithor, and Arthur's horse inside here. It'll be easier to manage them during our travels."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Vermithor in a trunk? That would be quite a sight."

Jon chuckled. "Well, I can't argue with that, but they can fit there comfortably."

Finally, Jon produced the Sling Ring. "This is the most remarkable of them all," he said, sliding it onto his finger. With a flick of his wrist and a focus of his thoughts, a shimmering portal appeared before them, revealing a view of a distant location.

Arthur, Diana, and Selina stared in awe at the portal. 

"Incredible," Arthur said, his voice filled with admiration. "This will save us an enormous amount of time."

Diana, ever the warrior, immediately saw the tactical advantage. "We can cover great distances in moments. This could change everything."

Selina looked at Jon with newfound respect. "You've certainly outdone yourself, Jon. These gifts are beyond anything I could have imagined."

Jon smiled at their reactions. "These gifts will help us greatly on our journey to Essos and beyond," he said, feeling a sense of satisfaction at their awe. "Now, let's make the most of them."

Turning to Arthur, he asked, "Where should we go first?"

Arthur considered for a moment before responding. "Braavos would be a wise first stop. We should visit the Iron Bank to see about the gold Rhaegar had squirreled away in case of emergency. It will give us the resources we need to move forward."

Jon nodded thoughtfully. "Braavos it is, then. Let's make our preparations and head out as soon as possible."

Diana and Selina exchanged determined looks, ready to embark on the journey. Arthur nodded in agreement, his expression resolute.

Jon felt a surge of determination. With their combined skills, resources, and the gifts from the Gacha, they were well-equipped to face the challenges ahead. "Let's get started," he said, leading the way.

—

The group quickly got to work, efficiently organizing and storing all the supplies Jon had brought along. They carefully packed the provisions, weapons, and other essentials into Newt Scamander's magical suitcase, marveling at its seemingly endless capacity. Ghost, Midnight, Shadow, Vermithor, and Arthur's horse were gently guided into the suitcase's spacious compartments, ensuring they were comfortable for the journey ahead.

As they finished, Jon turned to Selina and Diana. "We'll need to buy horses for both of you once we reach Braavos. Until then, we'll make do with what we have."

Selina nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "No problem, Jon. I'm looking forward to seeing what Braavos has to offer."

Diana smiled confidently. "We'll be ready for anything."

Arthur clapped Jon on the shoulder. "You've done well, Jon. With these preparations, we're set for whatever comes our way."

Jon felt a sense of accomplishment as they closed the suitcase and prepared to set off. The journey to Braavos awaited, and with his companions by his side, he was ready to face the challenges and opportunities that lay ahead.

—

Jon took a deep breath, focusing intently as he slipped the Sling Ring onto his finger. He visualized a secluded spot in Braavos, somewhere quiet and away from prying eyes. He moved his hand in a circular motion, a faint orange glow appearing in the air before him. The portal began to form, its edges shimmering and sparking with energy.

Within moments, the portal solidified, revealing a narrow alleyway in Braavos, tucked away from the bustling streets and curious onlookers. Jon nodded in satisfaction and turned to his companions.

"Alright, everyone," he said, "let's move quickly and quietly."

One by one, they stepped through the portal, entering the hidden alleyway in Braavos. Jon was the last to pass through, ensuring the portal closed securely behind them. The group stood silently for a moment, taking in their new surroundings.

"Welcome to Braavos," Jon said, his voice low but filled with determination. "Let's find the Iron Bank and get what we need. From here on out, we need to stay vigilant and move carefully."

Arthur, Diana, and Selina nodded in agreement, ready to face the next stage of their journey. With purpose in their steps, they began making their way through the twisting alleys of Braavos, heading towards the legendary Iron Bank.

—

They navigated the labyrinthine streets of Braavos with care, eventually arriving at the imposing structure of the Iron Bank. Its grand, marble façade and tall columns were designed to impress and intimidate, a testament to the bank's power and influence.

Jon motioned for Arthur to take the lead. "You handle this," he said quietly. "You have the paperwork, and they'll recognize you."

Arthur nodded, his demeanor calm and composed. He stepped forward, leading the group inside. The interior of the Iron Bank was just as grand as the exterior, with high ceilings and intricate carvings. They approached a polished desk where a stern-looking official sat, scrutinizing a ledger.

"Good day," Arthur began, his voice respectful but firm. "I am Ser Arthur Dayne, here on behalf of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. I believe you have records and accounts pertaining to his holdings."

The official looked up, his sharp eyes assessing Arthur and then the rest of the group. "Proof of your claim?" he asked curtly.

Arthur reached into his cloak and produced a sealed document, bearing Rhaegar's sigil and signature. He handed it over to the official, who took it with a raised eyebrow. The official inspected the seal and then the contents of the document. After a moment, his expression shifted to one of cautious respect.

"Follow me," he said, rising from his seat and gesturing for them to follow. He led them through a series of secure corridors and into a private chamber. Inside, shelves lined the walls, filled with ledgers and scrolls. The official moved to a particular shelf and retrieved a large, dusty ledger, setting it on a table before them.

"Prince Rhaegar's accounts," he said. "The records indicate significant funds deposited here, along with assets and investments spread throughout Braavos and beyond."

Arthur nodded, flipping through the ledger's pages, verifying the information. He turned to Jon, a satisfied look on his face. "We have access," he said. "This will provide us with the resources we need."

Jon felt a wave of relief. "Good," he said. "Let's secure the funds and make preparations for the next phase of our journey."

The official began detailing the procedures for accessing the funds and transferring the assets, ensuring everything was in order. Jon and his companions listened intently, their minds already planning their next steps with the newfound resources at their disposal.

As the official finished his explanation, Arthur leaned in slightly. "There's one more matter," he said, his tone carefully measured. "My brother, the current Lord Dayne of Starfall, discreetly smuggled our ancestral sword, Dawn, to be kept in Rhaegar's vault after my supposed death. I would like to retrieve it now."

The official nodded, flipping through the ledger to a specific section. "Indeed, there is mention of a valuable item stored in our high-security vaults under Prince Rhaegar's name. Follow me."

They followed the official through more secured corridors until they reached a heavy, reinforced door. After a series of precise key turns and a password entry, the door swung open, revealing a smaller, high-security vault.

Inside, amidst various chests and boxes, lay a long, ornate case. Arthur stepped forward, his hands almost reverent as he opened it. There, resting on rich velvet, was Dawn. The legendary sword of House Dayne gleamed with a faint, otherworldly light, its blade as pale as milkglass.

Arthur gently lifted the sword, feeling the familiar weight and balance in his hands. He turned to Jon, the sword held out horizontally. "Dawn, the ancestral sword of my house," he said quietly. "With this, our mission gains another edge."

Jon nodded, his eyes fixed on the blade. "It's a powerful symbol and a formidable weapon," he said. "It will serve us well."

The official, sensing the significance of the moment, waited patiently. Once Arthur secured Dawn, they proceeded to finalize the transfer of funds and assets, ensuring that everything was set for their next steps.

As they exited the Iron Bank, Jon felt a surge of confidence. With their newfound resources, the legendary sword Dawn, and his growing team of powerful allies, they were well-equipped to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

—

With the funds now accessible, Jon and his companions made their way to a reputable stable in Braavos. The stable master greeted them warmly, recognizing the potential for a substantial sale.

"We need two sturdy horses," Jon said, his voice firm. "They must be reliable and able to handle long journeys."

The stable master nodded, leading them through the stables to a section where the finest horses were kept. After a careful selection process, they chose two robust and well-trained steeds—one for Diana and one for Selina.

Diana's horse was a powerful black mare with a glossy coat and a steady temperament, perfect for her commanding presence. Selina's horse was a sleek, agile bay gelding, ideal for her quick and nimble style.

"These should serve you well," the stable master said, as Jon handed over the payment. The horses were saddled and ready to go in no time.

Finding a secluded alley, Jon and his companions quickly transferred the horses into Newt Scamander's suitcase, which Selina now carried with her at all times. The magic of the suitcase ensured the animals were comfortable and well-cared for inside.

With the horses safely stowed away, Jon and his companions made their way to the fighting ring, where skilled Water Dancers frequently engaged in duels, showcasing their mastery of the elegant Braavosi fighting style.

As they entered the bustling venue, the sounds of clashing blades and cheering spectators filled the air. The fighting ring was alive with energy, drawing in crowds from all corners of Braavos eager to witness the renowned Water Dancers in action.

Taking their seats among the spectators, Jon and his companions watched in awe as the Water Dancers displayed their agility, grace, and precision in a series of mesmerizing duels. Each move was executed with fluidity and finesse, demonstrating the beauty and effectiveness of the Braavosi fighting technique.

As the duels unfolded before them, Jon couldn't help but be captivated by the skill and artistry of the Water Dancers. Their movements were like a dance, weaving intricate patterns of offense and defense with effortless grace.

After witnessing several breathtaking duels, Jon and his companions left the fighting ring with a newfound appreciation for the art of Water Dancing. Inspired by what they had seen, they continued their journey through Braavos, eager to explore more of the city's rich culture and history.

—

Arthur's heart sank as he spotted a familiar face among the bustling crowd of Braavos. It was Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper. His presence here was unexpected, and Arthur knew that encountering him could lead to unwanted attention. After all, Arthur Dayne was supposed to be dead, slain at the Tower of Joy.

Quickly, Arthur signaled to Jon and his companions to move to a quieter corner of the street, hoping to avoid detection. But it was too late. Oberyn's sharp eyes had already locked onto Arthur's figure, and with a smirk, he began to make his way through the crowd towards them.

Arthur's mind raced as he tried to formulate a plan. He couldn't afford to draw attention to himself, not when his true identity was supposed to remain a secret.

"Ser Arthur Dayne," Oberyn greeted with a sly grin as he approached, his voice cutting through the noise of the crowd. "What a surprise to see you alive and well."

Arthur's expression remained impassive, though inwardly he cursed his luck. "Prince Oberyn," he replied evenly, his tone carefully controlled. "It's been a long time."

Oberyn's smirk widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Indeed it has," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And yet, here you are, walking among the living."

Arthur tensed, his hand instinctively drifting towards the hilt of his sword. He knew he had to tread carefully, lest Oberyn uncover the truth of his survival.

Jon stepped forward, interjecting with a diplomatic tone. "Gentlemen, perhaps this conversation would be better suited for another time," he suggested, his voice calm yet authoritative. "We all have our own matters to attend to."

As Jon stepped forward, seeking to diffuse the mounting tension, Oberyn's sharp gaze turned towards him, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Well, well," Oberyn began, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "You must be the infamous Jon Snow, Ned Stark's bastard, if I'm not mistaken."

Jon met Oberyn's gaze evenly, his demeanor calm but alert. "That's correct," he replied with a nod, bracing himself for whatever might come next.

Oberyn's smirk widened, a subtle challenge in his expression. "You know, you bear a striking resemblance to Rhaegar Targaryen," he remarked casually, his tone tinged with intrigue. "Especially around the eyes."

Jon's heart skipped a beat at Oberyn's words, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. He maintained his facade, though his mind raced with the implications of Oberyn's keen observation.

"Perhaps it's just a coincidence," Jon replied evenly, though inwardly, he couldn't shake the feeling of being exposed, as if Oberyn had glimpsed through the carefully constructed facade he presented to the world.

Oberyn's gaze lingered on Jon, a knowing glint in his eyes that sent a shiver down Jon's spine. "Perhaps," Oberyn mused cryptically, "or perhaps not."

Jon's pulse quickened as Oberyn's words hung in the air, ominous and laden with meaning. His attention shifted as Oberyn gestured toward the shadows, indicating for someone to step forward.

From the darkness emerged a figure, her features illuminated by the flickering torchlight. Arthur's breath caught in his throat as he recognized her immediately—a woman he had not seen since she was a child of three namedays old. Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter of Rhaegar and Jon's half-sister, stood before them, her presence both unexpected and electrifying.

Rhaenys Targaryen's features were reminiscent of her mother, Elia Martell, with hints of Targaryen ancestry woven in. Her long, flowing hair cascaded in waves of midnight black, framing a face that bore a striking resemblance to the Martell line. Yet, the subtle hints of Targaryen heritage were evident in the regal tilt of her chin and the violet hue of her eyes. Like her mother, she possessed a quiet strength, an aura of resilience that spoke of her Martell lineage. Despite the years that had passed since Arthur last laid eyes on her, her presence evoked memories of a time long gone, of a family torn apart by tragedy and betrayal.

"Princess Rhaenys," Arthur greeted her, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and nostalgia. "It's been far too long."

"Ser Arthur," Rhaenys replied, her tone tinged with a hint of reproach. "If you were alive all this time, why did you not come to me? Why did you let me believe you were dead?"

Arthur's expression softened as he regarded Rhaenys with a mixture of surprise and sorrow. "Rhaenys," he began, his voice heavy with emotion. "I did not know you were alive until this moment. I was charged by your father to watch over Daemon, his son with Lady Lyanna Stark. I have fulfilled that duty to the best of my ability, but I regret deeply not being there for you."

Rhaenys' eyes widened in disbelief, her features betraying a mixture of shock and confusion. She turned to Oberyn, seeking reassurance or perhaps confirmation of the truth behind Arthur's words.

Oberyn's expression remained unreadable for a moment, his gaze flickering between Rhaenys and Arthur. Then, with a slight nod of acknowledgment, he turned back to Arthur.

"I see," Oberyn said, his tone neutral yet probing. "And what of my sister, Elia? Did you watch over her as well?"

Arthur's gaze softened with a hint of remorse as he addressed Oberyn's question. "I was charged by Rhaegar to watch over Lyanna, who was about to give birth," he explained, his voice heavy with the weight of past failures. "I did what I could to protect her, but I was not able to save her."

Rhaenys listened intently, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she absorbed the revelation. The pieces of a puzzle long hidden began to fall into place, revealing a truth she had long suspected but dared not believe.

Oberyn's features hardened, his jaw clenching with suppressed anger at the mention of his sister's tragic end. "And where were you when Elia needed you most?" he demanded, his voice laced with bitterness and accusation. "Why did you not protect her?"

Arthur's admission hung heavy in the air, his voice weighted with regret and sorrow. "I failed her," he confessed, his words barely audible, laden with the burden of past mistakes. "I failed them all."

Rhaenys intervened, her voice firm yet compassionate as she addressed Oberyn. "Stop," she urged, her tone gentle yet resolute. "We cannot change the past."

Oberyn's features softened slightly at his niece's words, his gaze flickering with a mix of emotions—pain, anger, and a glimmer of acceptance. He nodded in acknowledgment, understanding the futility of dwelling on what could not be undone.

With a shared understanding, the trio fell into a solemn silence, their thoughts turning inward as they grappled with the weight of history and the uncertainty of the future. In that moment, they found solace in each other's presence, drawing strength from the bonds of family and the resilience of the human spirit.

Rhaenys turned to Jon, a faint smile playing on her lips as she took in his companions. "A true son of Dorne, I see," she remarked, her tone light yet observant. The comment elicited a chuckle from Oberyn, who nodded in agreement, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Rhaenys nodded solemnly, her expression reflecting a mixture of acceptance and unresolved pain. "Daemon, I accept you as my brother," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "While I cannot forgive the actions of our father, I understand that you are not to blame for his choices. We are siblings, bound by blood, and I will stand by you as family."

As Jon processed the whirlwind of emotions brought on by Rhaenys' sudden appearance, he found himself grappling with conflicting desires. On one hand, he felt a deep sense of kinship and gratitude towards her, appreciating her acceptance despite the tangled web of Targaryen history that surrounded them. Yet, beneath the surface, a more primal instinct stirred—a primal attraction to the woman who stood before him, a woman who embodied the Targaryen legacy in every aspect.

Despite his inner turmoil, Jon maintained his outward composure, "Thank you, Rhaenys," he said, his voice soft yet sincere. "You may call me Jon Snow, as that is the name I've grown accustomed to. And know that I too accept you as my sister, regardless of the past."

Deep down, however, he couldn't deny the allure of the forbidden, the tantalizing prospect of exploring the depths of his connection with Rhaenys in ways that defied societal norms.

As they stood amidst the bustling streets of Braavos, Jon couldn't help but be drawn to Rhaenys' magnetic presence, her beauty captivating him in ways he couldn't fully comprehend. And as the thought of the Targaryen tradition of sibling marriage lingered in the recesses of his mind.

"In that case, call me Rhea Sand," Rhaenys declared, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.

Jon nodded in understanding, a sense of relief washing over him at Rhaenys' suggestion. "Rhea Sand it is," he replied with a soft smile, the weight of their newfound connection easing the burden of uncertainty that had plagued him.

Interrupting the moment, Oberyn Martell's voice cut through the air, bringing their attention back to the present. "So, what's the plan now?" he inquired, his tone tinged with curiosity.

With a mischievous grin, Jon turned to Rhea. "How about I show you something truly magnificent?" he suggested, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Rhea's curiosity was piqued, and she nodded eagerly, her eyes shining with anticipation. "I'd love to see it," she replied, her voice filled with excitement.

"Ser Arthur, make sure nobody enters the alley," Jon instructed, his tone firm. Then, turning to Selina, he added, "Open the suitcase, please."

Ser Arthur nodded, understanding the importance of keeping their encounter with Vermithor discreet. Meanwhile, Selina wasted no time in opening Newt Scamander's suitcase, revealing the spacious interior.

Oberyn's eyes widened with surprise, a hint of admiration in his expression as he took in the sight before him.

Rhea's gaze sparkled with wonder as she stepped closer to the open suitcase, her excitement palpable. "Incredible," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

As they stepped into the suitcase, Oberyn's smirk widened, a sense of adventure gleaming in his eyes. Rhea followed closely behind, her curiosity driving her forward as she took in the marvels of the magical space.

Jon and Selina shared a knowing look, their anticipation mounting as they prepared to explore the wonders hidden within the depths of Newt Scamander's suitcase. With Diana stationed outside, standing guard with unwavering vigilance, they ventured forth into the unknown.

—

As Rhea and Oberyn stepped into the interior of the suitcase, their eyes widened in awe at the expansive space before them. The atmosphere was filled with a sense of wonder and excitement as they took in the sights around them.

Oberyn and Rhea's amazement grew as they beheld both Midnight, the elusive shadowcat, and Ghost, the majestic direwolf, within the confines of the enchanted suitcase. Their eyes widened in awe at the sight of these formidable creatures, each embodying the essence of the wild and untamed.

For Rhea, it was a moment of wonder, as she observed the graceful movements of Midnight, while Ghost's silent vigilance stirred something primal within Oberyn. Together, they stood in silent reverence, witnessing the harmonious coexistence of two majestic beasts in this magical realm.

As Jon made the grand introduction, the air crackled with anticipation, and with a flourish, Vermithor, the Night Fury, made his dramatic entrance. With wings outstretched and eyes gleaming with intelligence, the dragon's presence filled the space, commanding attention and respect.

"By the gods," Oberyn exclaimed, his voice tinged with awe as he gazed upon Vermithor. "I've never seen anything like it."

Rhea's eyes widened in wonder, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's magnificent," she breathed, her admiration evident in her tone. "Truly magnificent."

Rhea looked at Jon and Vermithor together, a mixture of emotions playing across her features. "It's like witnessing the rebirth of House Targaryen," she remarked, her voice filled with awe and reverence.

Jon flashed Rhea a cheeky smile. "So, did you enjoy my little surprise?" he asked, a hint of mischief in his tone.

Rhea's eyes sparkled with amusement as she returned Jon's smile. "Surprise would be an understatement," she replied, her voice laced with excitement. "I must admit, I never expected to see a dragon up close, let alone ride one. It would be quite the experience to do so once he's old enough."

Oberyn stepped forward, his gaze shifting between Jon and Rhea with a curious glint. "Indeed, it seems you have quite the flair for the dramatic, Jon Snow," he remarked, his tone tinged with amusement. "But I suppose one must expect nothing less from a Targaryen."

"Are you truly okay with me being the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna?" Jon asked Oberyn, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Considering what they did to your sister, Elia?"

Jon's question hung in the air, the weight of its implications palpable. Oberyn's expression grew somber as he met Jon's gaze, his eyes reflecting a mixture of sorrow and resignation.

"Truth be told, Jon Snow," Oberyn began, his voice measured, "the sins of Rhaegar and Lyanna are their own burden to bear. Elia, my beloved sister, paid the ultimate price for their actions." He paused, a shadow passing over his features. "But you, you are not to blame for the choices they made. You are a son of both Stark and Targaryen, and it is not for me to judge your lineage."

There was a pause, a heavy silence punctuating Oberyn's words before he continued, his voice softer now. "In the end, what matters is how you choose to carry yourself, how you honor the legacy of those who came before you." He glanced at Rhea, a hint of warmth softening his features. "And from what I've seen today, you carry it with dignity and honor."

With a wry smile, Oberyn added, "And perhaps, in time, you'll also be the instrument of justice I've long sought against the Lannisters and Gregor Clegane."

As the conversation drew to a close, Jon couldn't shake the feeling of destiny weaving its intricate threads around them. With Rhea by his side, and Oberyn's cautious approval, he felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination. Together, they would navigate the complexities of their shared past and forge a new path forward, bound by the ties of blood and the weight of history.

With Vermithor soaring in the suitcase and the promise of adventure on the horizon, Jon led his newfound companions out of the bustling streets of Braavos, their future uncertain but filled with possibility. As they embarked on their journey, Jon couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement coursing through his veins, eager to uncover the mysteries that awaited them in the vast expanse of the world beyond. And with Rhea at his side, he knew that whatever challenges they faced, they would face them together, as siblings bound by blood and boundless ambition.

---

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