The Dragon and the Bastard

"I will not stand for this!" Daenerys heard some kind of wooden trinket or case crash against the wall. To say that her brother took Lord Stark's arrival badly was an understatement. "To allow one of the Usurper's dogs into the same home as me, his rightful king!" Yet another enraged yell left his throat, this time not joined by something shattering.

"Calm down, your Grace," Illyrio cautioned, staying back and letting the prince let out his anger. "His arrival here is but a coincidence, due to business dealings I have with one of his vassal lords…"

Viserys chuckled darkly. "Do you think I can give two shits about your business, Illyrio? No, the effrontery of him to even grace his presence around me while still bending the knee for Robert the Usurper is what angers me. And to bring a bastard into my presence…"

Dany's ears perked up at the even passing mention of the handsome young man accompanying Lord Stark. 'He is a bastard?' Though such distinctions were less imposing in Essos than her native land, it still surprised her that such a high nobleman would essentially treat a bastard in the same vein as a trueborn child. Such spoke volumes about Eddard Stark, or this Jon Sta… Snow - as was the traditional northern bastard name - or perhaps both.

For some reason the young girl felt a need to defend him from her brother's insults. "Viserys, it is not this young man's fault he was born a bas… eeek." A strangled breath left Dany's lips as she was pressed into a wall, stone digging into her back while her brother's hand was wrapped around her neck. "Did I say you could talk, sweet sister?" He hissed. "Do not wake the dragon!" With that, Viserys let go, causing her to crumple on the floor.

Sensing a need to calm the situation - Daenerys was no good to anyone severely injured - Illyrio jumped in. "Do not worry, your Grace. Lord Stark may be on the side of King Robert…"

"Robert the Usurper! I am the King, do you understand!"

The merchant gritted his teeth. "Yes forgive me. But while Lord Stark has his loyalty to the Usurper the people of the North still drink secret toasts to your name. He would be a fool to be anything but respectful of you." That Ned Stark always conducted himself with honor and respect regardless of oaths and loyalty could be left out, as was the North's hatred of the Targaryen name.

It seemed to mollify the angry prince, who merely huffed. "If that is the case then I will tolerate his presence, but if he sullies my good name with that half-blood bastard then things will be different." Viserys stormed off, Illyrio behind him.

Curled up against the wall, one hand soothing her sore neck, Dany fought the tears that were threatening to fall. "I am the blood of the dragon," she whispered to herself. "A dragon does not cry." It wasn't the first time Viserys abused her, nor would it be the last. Truth be told, this was mild compared to some of the enraged tantrums he had taken out on her. 'It is not kindness,' she quickly thought. 'A bruise would lessen my worth to the Dothraki… and lower his standing in front of the Starks.' To not even allow herself to imagine her brother had any kind or loving feelings for her hurt Dany worse than any blow, but a lifetime on the run from assassins and poverty quickly killed any idea of harboring denial.

"I am the blood of the dragon."

It was at that moment a voice reached her ear, a voice from outside. One that she had only heard once in the atrium just this morning. Standing on shaky feet, she made her way to the open window to see the handsome young man playing with a white pup. The Bastard of Winterfell.

Jon Snow.

'He looks much better, smiling,' Dany couldn't help but think. However, something drew his gaze to where she stood, and for a second their eyes locked before she ducked back away from the window - a bright red blush adorned her pale cheeks.

Sighing, Jon looked away from the now empty window to where his dire wolf sat, tail wagging. "Well Ghost. Think a girl like that would ever think me more than a bastard?" Ghost cocked his head to one side, tongue swiping over his nose. "That's what I figured."

Of all the far-fetched contingencies Ned Stark had imagined were waiting for him in Pentos, seeing the two remaining children of the Mad King wasn't one of them. Robert was not going to like this if he found out. The King of the Seven Kingdoms trusted Ned with his life, but was irrational when it came to the Targaryens. 'I will have to stop by King's Landing on the way home, break the news personally of this visit.' If Robert knew the whole story then he was bound to understand. Ned knew that it was only he that could have gotten away with it, though.

Eyes catching a glimpse of the princess… 'She looks just like her mother, more beautiful even.' He still remembered Rhealla, silver hair lustrous with the Targaryen graceful beauty on that fateful day. The Grand Tourney that started everything. It was as if Ned saw a ghost, but he would have to shove that aside. He was the mighty Warden of the North. No man worth his salt would insult a host's gracious invitation to a feast in his honor.

Convincing Jon to let go of his emotions was a whole other story. "Father, do you know what they did to our family?" the 16-year old hissed. The classic stubbornness of youth, along with a bullheaded nature clearly from his mother - it made Ned want to smile in fond recollection, but he bit it back. Now wasn't the time. "I will not treat with the Mad King's son."

"Aye, our family suffered at the Mad King's hands," Ned conceded. The fact that Jon omitted the Princess was not lost on him. "But that was the Mad King's doing. Viserys was but a child, and Daenerys was merely a bump in her mother's belly." Jon opened his mouth to protest when Ned placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Believe me son, I hate the Mad King for what he did. But what did I teach you and Robb about judging a man's character?"

Jon's face softened. "An honorable man always looks at what a person is, not what his family has done." It was the Stark way. Ned's way. He taught his children well. "I see your point father. I will give the Prince and... Princess my respect."

Ned smiled at his son. "Good. I'm proud of you, Jon." He eyed him over, truly taking in what a strapping young man Jon had become. The boy deserved more - it was his failure that he hadn't gotten it. "I couldn't ask for a better son."

Unused to such praise, Jon merely smiled at his father. The smile turned into a nervous frown. "Father." He struggled with the boldness to ask what he had always died to know. "Tell me about my mother, please."

'Of course he would ask.' Ned would have been shocked had Jon not. But he couldn't tell him, not now.

'He deserves to know something,' a voice in his head cajoled.

'It is too risky, especially in these times.' The Warden of the North settled on a compromise. "That is for another time, Jon. But I promise you, your mother loved you very much. More than anything in the world." It was the truth. She did love Jon. Watching tears start to form in Jon's eyes, Ned smacked him affectionately on the shoulders. "Now come on lad. A Stark is never late."

'Back to seeing ghosts,' he couldn't help but think.

It certainly felt different being in the center of the attention. Given Lady Stark's disposition towards him, Jon usually spent any major feast or dinner out of the main hall. He'd eat in the kitchens, Robb or Arya keeping him company when he was lucky, and spend the festivities letting out the anger and bitterness through training. Now though, here he was, sitting right next to his father at the head table as merchant after merchant passed by to address the Warden of the North and the other honored guests.

Jon knew he occupied the most junior position, the far left edge, on the table but he didn't care. It felt great to eat next to his beloved father, who at the moment had a fake, reserved smile plastered on his face as a drunk merchant with terrible teeth began asking about the battle of the Trident. Hearing a loud snort further down the table, Jon quickly understood why his father refused. Sitting to Illyrio's right was Viserys Targaryen, staring daggers and both him and Ned. Spotting him, the prince's face turned revolted and shifted to talk to Illyrio - as if a bastard wasn't worth his time. It didn't bother Jon, he was used to it from Lady Stark, Ser Rodrik, and to a lesser extent Sansa.

To Viserys' right a small figure of silver-blonde hair leaned forward. Princess Daenerys. Remembering the incident with the balcony, and what his father had told him right before the feast, Jon sent what he figured was his warmest smile. Something he only reserved for Arya and his other siblings. To his credit, Daenerys responded with a smile of her own. Jon decided at that moment that she looked best when she smiled, though why it mattered to him did cross his mind.

"Lord Stark!" boomed another rather boisterous - and clearly drunk - merchant with a beard twice the length of Illyrio's. "What an honor it is to see the Wolf of the Trident himself!" Hoisting his mug in the air, a green look washed over him as his eyes bugged out and he ran for a small antechamber in the corner of the hall. A smirk crossed Ned's face and Jon snickered, faint retching sounds audible over the cacophony.

"Is this what it's always like in the east?" Jon asked his father in a whisper.

"No," Ned remarked. "Only the separate room. It's so partygoers can… void their stomachs to keep celebrating." That statement made both burst into chuckles. "I knew plenty of feasts where a room like that would have helped King Robert." Chuckles turned into pure laughter.

"Tell us about Dorne!' another shouted.

"The man who defeated the Morning Swordsman single handedly," announced another. At this, Jon's interest was peaked. He and Robb loved hearing about their father battling Ser Arthur Dayne at the Tower of Joy, but had never heard it from his father personally.

A loud smack was heard through the cavernous hall. "Of course," sneered Viserys, his speech slurred slightly from the fine Dornish wine. "The great Eddard Stark, renowned the world over for stabbing his King in the back."

The whole hall grew quiet, even the drunkest among them knowing what was said. Ned's face turned the stone, not a single emotion visible. Jon on the other hand grew flush with anger. "You do not know what in seven hells you are talking about, my Prince," he sneered.

"Oh but I do, bastard." The Prince had a smug look on his face, coupled with a rather serpent-like grin. "When my ancestor Aegon the Conqueror defeated the northern forces, Torren Stark swore fealty to him in perpetuity. For your undoubtedly feeble half-blood brain, that means that the Starks are forever sworn to the Targaryens. Your father is a vile traitor."

Jon, even in his anger, could tell Daenerys was mortified at what was going on - similarly, she hadn't had a drop to drink. "Brother, please. This is not…"

A sharp crack echoed out, Dany's hand rushing up to clutch her face where Viserys had struck her. "Quiet slut!" Dany's quiet pain made it clear this wasn't a rare occurrence.

In any case, Jon felt fire course through him. Lord Stark had raised honorable men, and no man worth his salt ever laid a hand on a woman - Robb had pounded Theon Greyjoy to a pulp two years before just for trying. This time, Jon was more diplomatic. Slightly. "If you raise a hand against your sister again, I will cut it off," he hissed, standing with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Daenerys stared at him with wide eyes, while her brother laughed. Jon could sense a small flash of fear though.

"Jon, that is enough. Sit down," he heard his father say evenly. Ned Stark's face was still stone, but his eyes blazed. Sitting, Jon knew it wasn't directed at him. "My family, Prince Viserys, were loyal subjects of House Targaryen. However, when my brother and father pleaded with King Aerys about my sister, and he responded by burning one alive and strangling the other to death."

The room was silent. Daenerys sat there with pure horror written on her face, the little color her pale skin had draining away. The Prince by contrast grew enraged. "LIES! Every word!"

"My oath to him died on that day, and I can tell just by looking at you that you share his honor." He stood. "More accurately the lack of it." Ned turned to his son. "Jon, we're leaving. I've lost my appetite."

Glad to go, Jon followed his father out of the hall. He turned for one last look at the Princess, who was close to tears at his father's story. Perhaps he had only misjudged one of the siblings.

The knocking on the door disturbed Ned from his work. Quick reflexes prevented the ink bottle from spilling on the grain manifests cluttering the intricate wooden desk. "One moment." He hoped it wasn't Illyrio or one of his servants, not needing the headache.

Opening the door a creak, he was surprised to see a rather subdued Daenerys Targaryen. Not the person he would have imagined being at his door so late after dinner, but then again nothing about this visit to Pentos was ordinary. "I'm sorry to bother you mi'Lord, but may I have a few minutes of your time."

Though hard and somber most occasions, Ned Stark allowed her a soft smile. This girl was not like her brother, nor her father - more like her mother and brother, which was an eminently good thing in his opinion. "You are not bothering me, Princess." He let her in, keeping the door slightly ajar. "One should rest his eyes often while writing. Please, sit down." He motioned to the bed while sitting in his chair. While she complied, the young Targaryen remained silent. Her cheek was red with a large handprint, something that made his blood boil. "My Lady, please forgive me for my rudeness earlier."

Biting her lip, after a few terse seconds Dany mustered the courage to speak. "No, you weren't rude. My brother was…" She never criticized her brother, knowing what Viserys would do to her if he heard it. However, allies of the Usurper they might be, the Starks were honorable men and they didn't deserve what happened. "He was wrong. You two are fellow guests of our host and deserve our respect."

Ned smiled. Daenerys Targaryen had a good heart, unlike her father. While he felt she'd be a formidable ruler if given a chance - just a gut feeling, though a Stark gut was usually quite accurate - the humility and kindness precluded the Targaryen madness her father and brother had. "Thank you, mi'Lady."

Smiling softly at his noble air, Dany stood. "Do you know where your son is? I'd like to let him know as well."

"I'm not sure, I think he's outside."

Nodding, Dany was about to leave when one last question popped into her head. One that nearly made her shake. "Lord Stark?" She watched Ned look at her with sincere eyes. "Was it true? About my father?"

Honorable to the core, Ned couldn't lie to her. "Yes."

Feeling physically sick, Dany fought the tears threatening to fall from her eyes with all the fortitude of a dragon. "I'm sorry, for everything." With that she was gone.

She found him exactly where Lord Stark had said - leaning on the railing, gazing out at the sea. Aside from the half-moon high above them the only light was a flickering lantern on the far wall, casting a low illumination. Daenerys could tell that the young man was immersed in thought. Handsome features imagining something far away from current reality.

The revelation about her father had floored the princess, adding to the whirlwind her life had taken in a mere twelve hours. 'Sold to the Dothraki and being the daughter of a monster.' Viserys had berated her not to "Believe the lies," but at this point Dany felt that Ned Stark was far more trustworthy. Her brother would have thought her a fool for her need to talk to the Lord's bastard as well, but she slowly approached him. Dany didn't know why, but felt compelled to do so.

Reaching out to brush his shoulder, out of nowhere he jumped and batted her hand away. Dany's eyes widened, fear spreading on her face.

Jon had been staring at the sea, not being able to get a silver-haired girl out of his mind. It wasn't the first time he had seen a pretty girl, far from it, but his self-loathing and fear of putting another Snow in the world normally won out. So why was it this woman that couldn't leave his thoughts? 'Must be the fact that she is a Targaryen.' It wasn't every day that one comes across the legendary Dragon House. Growing up to stories of how evil and mad the family was, finding one so… innocent only made it more surreal.

It was therefore that he instinctively prepared to fight whomever disturbed him - only to find his stomach pain when seeing those waves of silver before him. "Princess." He drew away, angry at himself for causing her much fear. "Forgive me."

Blinking, Dany was taken aback by his piercing grey eyes. But that lasted but a second. "It is alright, mi'Lord. I should be more careful sneaking up to a warrior next time." She couldn't help but smile sheepishly.

"Aye, but you shouldn't call me that." He turned back to the sea. "I'm not a Lord, I am but a bastard of a Lord." Catelyn's words still cut him deeply from halfway around the world. He was nothing compared to the lowliest son of the lowliest lord, let alone a pure-blood Targaryen.

Dany bit her lip once more, not knowing what to say. This Jon Snow was an enigma, not much escaping the brooding, aloof exterior, but she could tell his status was a source of insecurity. She could relate, given her relationship with her brother. Looking out at the sea, she decided to ignore it. "I'm sorry for what my brother said. Even a bastard deserves respect."

"Perhaps, but you clearly do." His eyes were drawn to her cheek, the welt making him snarl. "I meant what I said about cutting off his hand." He looked her in the eyes for a moment, conveying his sincerity before shifting away. "Your brother is what I thought all Targaryens would be like," Jon snorted. "No offense, Princess." He sighed. "Your family and my… my father's family haven't had the best of histories."

"No, they have not." Gazing back at Jon Snow, Dany took in his features. The hardened yet boyish skin, the slightly long, wavy hair, determined jaw. He was handsome, no doubt - downright beautiful. He was still lost in thought. "What are you thinking about Jon Snow? Home? The North?"

She was simply too kind, too innocent. It disarmed him. "Aye, Winterfell. It isn't much to the eye compared to somewhere like here, but I love it nonetheless." His lips curled into a wistful smile, Dany's heart fluttering at how much it brightened his face. "Spending time with my brothers and sisters, and my father. There's nothing I love more."

Dany could just imagine it, and felt happy that the enigmatic Jon Snow had some levity in his life. He was lucky to have siblings that loved him, unlike her. It had been easy to talk to Ned Stark, the weathered lord kind and and welcoming - almost like the father figure she never had. Jon Snow on the other hand? Daenerys simply… it felt right, as if he could relate to her. 'Perhaps he does.' "Must you have left a pretty girl behind?" Dany asked, curious. A small teasing impulse took her over for a moment. "Perhaps more than one?" A ghost of a grin crossed her face.

Only to disappear at his frown. "None."

"Why not? I would be sure plenty would be interested." 'In someone as beautiful as you,' she didn't add.

What drove Jon to trust her with his secrets was a mystery to him, but it felt right to do so. "I don't want to create another bastard named Snow, and no woman would want to marry a bastard."

An overwhelming sadness crossed over Dany, feeling for this boy more than anyone else she had ever encountered - including herself. Wordlessly, she raised a delicate palm and placed it on Jon's back, stroking softly. Comfortingly.

Not moving to push the hand off, Jon felt some of his pain flow away.

Gazing down at the two from his second-floor window, Ned Stark sighed. On some level he knew this would happen the moment he spotted the silver-haired princess, though by the old gods and the new this was the last thing he wanted happening now. 'Oh Lyanna,' he thought, wishing he could talk to his long dead sister. 'What should I do?'

He heard nothing but the rustle of the equatorial wind.

AUTHOR'S THOUGHT: --

Longclaw1-6: Before any of y'all ask, of course, Ned hates the Mad King for what he did to his family. However, I doubt that after Lyanna told him the truth about everything he'd continue to hate all the Targaryens as much. He would have wanted his sister to be happy and if marrying Rheager instead of Robert was what she truly wanted then he wouldn't have begrudged her for it. Given that his father and brother wouldn't have gone to the Mad King if Robert hadn't raised a massive fuss about Lyanna being raped, I think that Ned would hold a love/hate relationship for his friend, one I will explore in later chapters.