A Dragon of House Targaryen

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Ned Stark

"Lord Stark, you're coming with me." Ser Arthur commanded Ned. After they were told that a meeting would be held in the Great Hall of Harrenhal, everyone was told to go there and wait for the King to arrive. Whispers and rumors circulated amongst the crowds, as no one knew for certain what the purpose of this gathering was. Everyone was wondering why they were holding a meeting, a meeting of this scale that included almost every single House in Westeros hadn't been held since the Council of 101 by King Jaehaerys Targaryen.

As soon as the order was given, Ned Stark's intuition kicked in, and he knew exactly what was happening. His heart sank, and he felt a sense of foreboding wash over him. However, he remained calm and collected; his years of experience as the Lord of Winterfell had taught him to hide his emotions well. He took a deep breath and looked around at his children's faces, each one of them reflecting a different emotion. Bran and Rickon, the youngest of his brood, looked up at him with wide-eyed innocence, unaware of the gravity of the situation. Ned knew that he had to be strong for them, and so he put on a brave face, even though he knew that the end had come.

The lords, adorned in their finest garments and accompanied by their loyal entourages, strode purposefully towards the Great Hall of Harrenhal, the ancient fortress that still stood tall and imposing. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the long, dimly lit corridor as the flickering torches on the walls cast eerie shadows that seemed to dance with each passing step. Though they numbered only a few dozen, the lords appeared more like a small army, their imposing presence and regal bearing commanding respect and admiration from all who beheld them.

From the corner of his eye, Ned saw Ser Arthur Dayne approaching him with an unreadable expression. Ned's heart raced as he suddenly stopped, unsure what to expect from the legendary knight. The silence was deafening as Ser Arthur stood before him, his imposing presence causing the hairs on the back of Ned's neck to stand on end.

All around them, Ned's fellow Northerners watched with bated breath, their eyes fixed on the two men in the middle of the corridor. Even Ned's family, who were usually preoccupied with their own conversations, were drawn to the scene unfolding before them.

"Lord Stark, you're coming with me," Ser Arthur commanded, his voice unwavering as he stood before the Stark.

"For what?" It took a moment for Ned to realize that it had been Arya who asked the question and not him; Her eyes darted between Ser Arthur and her father, searching for an answer to the question that had been left hanging in the air.

"The King wants to have a private conversation with Lord Stark before the meeting starts," Arthur's response was delivered in a passive voice, which only added to the already palpable tension in the air. As the words left his lips, GreatJon let out an exasperated groan and took a step forward, clearly agitated by the delay.

Towering above most others, GreatJon's massive frame was reminiscent of a fully grown brown bear, if not more. With a height that nearly reached seven feet and a girth twice as wide as Hodor, he was a true force to be reckoned with. Despite his immense size, GreatJon was not just a lumbering giant but a heavily muscled warrior with fists the size of hams. Ned had once witnessed him in battle and saw firsthand the devastating power of his blows. With a single punch, GreatJon had shattered a man's nose and front teeth, leaving no doubt as to his formidable strength and fighting prowess.

"Why does the King want to talk with Ned?" GreatJon said, his voice like a bass rumble, SmallJon, standing tall beside his father, added to the tension with his piercing gaze and furrowed brow. It was evident that the King's request had sparked a sense of suspicion and unease among the Northern lords, and they could not help but wonder what the monarch had in store for their beloved Ned.

Arthur's hand instinctively gravitated towards the hilt of his concealed dagger, hidden within the folds of his cloak, as his eyes surveyed the towering figure standing before him. With a quick assessment, he knew that the man was massive, much larger, and stronger than he was, but Arthur also realized that the giant's size was a disadvantage, making him slow and cumbersome.

Ned's heart swelled with gratitude and relief. The weight of his impending responsibilities as the Lord of Winterfell felt a little lighter, knowing that he had the unwavering support of his trusted advisors and allies. He felt a sense of comfort and reassurance, knowing that his son, Robb, would have a strong network of loyal subjects to count on when he eventually took over as lord.

However, despite his appreciation for their support, Ned couldn't shake the lingering worry that a fight could break out at any moment. His instincts told him tensions were high and that even the smallest spark could ignite a full-blown conflict.

"Enough," Ned's voice boomed with such authority and conviction that it reverberated across the walls of the long, dimly lit corridor of Harrenhal, commanding the attention of all who were present. The lords who had gathered around him, their faces contorted with anger and frustration, fell silent at the sound of his voice, each of them looking at him with a mix of respect and fear. The hush that followed was almost palpable as if it had descended upon them like a thick, heavy blanket, muffling even the faintest sound. The dispute that had erupted between them had been heated and intense, and it had attracted the attention of many other lords who were passing by, their footsteps echoing on the cold stone floor. Some of them cast curious glances in their direction, while others hurried along, eager to avoid being caught up in the tension that was hanging in the air.

As Ned Stark stood in the midst of his lords, his commanding voice echoed through the corridor of Harrenhal as he gave his orders. "I will go with Ser Arthur, everyone else. You go to the Great Hall," he stated firmly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His loyal lords bowed their heads in agreement, accepting his command without question. However, just as he thought the conversation was over, the GreatJon opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a single word, Lady Maege, with a fierce glare, silenced him. Arya seemed like she wanted to go with him; before she could take a single step towards him, Robb, who had been observing her closely, reached out and grasped her hand firmly. With a small smile on his lips, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "You'll see him soon enough, little sister." he said before he looked at his father.

With a determined look in his eyes, Robb boldly stepped forward and declared to his father, "I will lead them to the Great Hall." The words hung in the air momentarily as the Northern Lords looked on in anticipation. Slowly, Robb began to walk, his shoulders squared and his gait purposeful. As he made his way towards the towering doors of the hall, the Lords watched him with a hint of respect. And so, one by one, they fell into step behind him, their footsteps echoing through the empty halls.

As Ned and Ser Arthur embarked towards the King's Chamber, the atmosphere was enveloped in an eerie silence, save for the faint echo of their footsteps resonating against the cold, hard stone floor of the dimly lit corridor.

As Ned and Ser Arthur turned the corner, the silence between them was almost palpable, broken only by the echo of their footsteps and the distant whispers of the castle's inhabitants. "Who's there except the king?" Ned eventually asked, breaking the silence between them as they turned a corner before walking through a staircase that led to the Royal Quarters of Harrenhal.

Ser Arthur was silent, and for a moment, Ned thought he wouldn't answer his question when Arthur opened his mouth to speak. "Queen Elia, Queen Rhaella, and Prince Aemon," Arthur answered with an emotionless voice.

Arthur didn't really need to tell Lord Stark how much Princess Rhaenys had wanted to be in the chamber too, saying she wanted to say something to Lord Stark, but Queen Elia had ordered her to leave the chamber and go with Prince Aegon to the Great Hall.

Ned was tempted to ask what his punishment would be; he was certain his head would be on top of a spear by the end of this day or the following one. Despite this almost certain outcome, Ned couldn't shake the flicker of hope that still burned within him - a hope that he might have one final chance to speak with his beloved family, to offer them words of comfort and reassurance in what was sure to be their darkest hour. But Ned held his tongue, but there was one thing he wanted more than anything right now.

As they climbed up the stairs, Arthur suddenly broke the silence, turning to Ned with a curious expression. "I heard from Ashara that you know about Alyanna," he said, his voice laced with intrigue. Ned glanced at him, surprised by the sudden question, but quickly regained his composure.

"Yes, I do," he replied, his eyes fixed ahead as they continued their ascent. The two men made their way up the winding staircase, each lost in his own thoughts.

"I do," Ned answered, his mouth open and closed before addressing Ser Arthur again.

"Ser Arthur, I would like to have a talk with my daughter at least once. Can you help me?" Ned almost pleaded, his voice a little desperate, he knew he perhaps didn't deserve it after everything that he had done, but he wanted more than anything to talk with Alyanna at least once in his life, to tell her how much he had wanted to know her, and how much he loved her beyond any doubt.

Suddenly, Arthur abruptly stopped and turned around to face Ned. Ned couldn't help but notice that the knight's face was completely unreadable, but he sensed a glimmer of understanding in Arthur's piercing gaze. After a moment of silence that felt like an eternity, Arthur finally spoke up in a low, measured voice. "I-I will let Ash know you want to talk with Alyanna," he said before they resumed their walk towards the King's Chambers.

As Ned Stark uttered the words "Thank you, Ser Arthur" with genuine gratitude, a feeling of relief washed over him, causing his footsteps to feel lighter and his heart to lift ever so slightly. He knew this small show of gratitude was not guaranteed, but he was willing to take what he could get in these uncertain times. As Ser Arthur received Ned's words with a little pause, it was clear that the sincerity of the gesture somewhat took aback the knight. However, as quickly as the moment had come, Ser Arthur chose to ignore it and continue with his duties as if nothing had happened.

As Arthur and Lord Stark approached the door leading to the King's Chamber, their eyes were met by the imposing figures of Ser Barristan and Ser Darry, who stood guard with their swords drawn and their shields at the ready. The two knights, renowned for their loyalty to the crown, didn't even spare a glance in Ned's direction as he approached as if he were invisible to them. Without a word, the knights stepped aside and opened the door, allowing Arthur and Lord Stark to stride confidently into the magnificent chamber beyond. The room was filled with the opulent trappings of royalty: from the intricate tapestries that adorned the walls to the glittering chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.

As the tension grew, Ned's anxiety manifested physically, causing beads of sweat to form on his palm and forehead. He couldn't help but feel like he had been transported to the arid landscapes of Dorne as his throat became as parched as the barren deserts. The weight of the situation was bearing down on him, and he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that was creeping up his spine.

As Ned's boots thudded against the polished marble floor. As he looked up, his gaze locked with a pair of intense violet eyes that belonged to none other than King Rhaegar himself. The King's tall, imposing figure was leaning against his desk, his hands gripping the desk frame so tightly that Ned could see the veins bulging in his arms. Ned noticed that the knuckles on King Rhaegar's hands were turning a shade of white.

The moment Ned walked inside, he felt his heart beating faster, but he inhaled deeply to calm himself; Rhaegar shifted his piercing gaze towards Ned Stark, the solemn Lord of Winterfell, and bore down on him with a scorching glare that could have melted steel.

The tension between the two men was palpable, so thick that it could be sliced with a Valyrian sword. It was as if the air was electrified by their animosity, crackling and sparking like lightning in a raging storm. However, Rhaegar was not the only one who was fixated on Ned; Elia Martell, the wife of the King and a princess of Dorne, was also glaring at him with a look of disdain. Ned felt the weight of both their stares upon him like a stone being crushed underfoot.

Queen Rhaella was the only one holding her emotions in check; her face was stoic and emotionless, giving nothing away as she gazed at Lord Stark with a piercing stare that made him feel uneasy. Prince Aemon stood beside her, his eyes fixed on Lord Stark with a mixture of pity and anger.

"Your grace, you called for me?" Ned spoke first as Ser Arthur closed the wooden door behind them; his voice earned a growl from Rhaegar, who strolled around the room for a moment before turning to face Lord Stark, who, despite his intense gaze, didn't look away.

Ned was tempted to ask Jon if he was alright after the jousting but knew better than to make King Rhaegar even more furious with him.

"Lord Stark," As Rhaegar Targaryen strode towards Lord Stark, his voice resonated like the ominous growl of a wild beast, echoing through the chamber's walls. The sound of his footsteps seemed to reverberate with a sense of impending danger; as he moved closer and closer, his eyes locked onto his target. His powerful hands opened and closed several times as if preparing to strike while his piercing gaze bore into Lord Stark's very soul, daring him to make a move. Until finally, he stood directly in front of Lord Stark, his towering presence casting a shadow over the room.

As Rhaegar's eyes met with Lord Stark's, a seething anger boiled up inside him, compelling him to clench his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. With every fiber of his being, he fought the urge to lunge forward and pummel the man until he was unrecognizable, his face disfigured beyond all recognition. The thought of Lord Stark's face and voice filled him with a rage that threatened to consume him entirely.

"Do you remember," he began, his voice low and menacing, "when you arrived back from the Tower of Joy? You looked me straight in the eye and, with a single sentence, shattered my world. 'Your daughter is stillborn,' you said. Why, Lord Stark?" Rhaegar's words were clipped and precise; his teeth clenched tightly together as he glared at Ned, who remained stoic in the face of the King's fury.

"To ensure the safety of my nephew," Ned answered without a single hint of doubt in his voice; his words seemed to snap something inside Rhaegar, causing his purple eyes to blaze with fury and his gaze to lock onto Ned's like a dragon locking onto its prey. Before anyone could intervene, Rhaegar's fist shot out in a swift and powerful motion, connecting with Lord Stark's cheek with a resounding thud. The impact of the blow echoed throughout the room, leaving a stunned silence in its wake as everyone watched in shock at the sudden outburst of violence.

As soon as the fist made contact with Lord Stark's face, he felt the impact reverberate through his entire body, causing him to stumble backward and collide with the unforgiving wall behind him. The sound of a loud snap echoed in the room, but despite the force of the punch, Ned managed to stay on his feet, albeit barely. His hand instinctively flew up to his face, where he could feel a warm, sticky sensation oozing from his lower lip. With a pained expression etched on his face, he pulled his hand away to reveal a deep gash that split his lip open, causing a trail of crimson blood to trickle down and mingle with his thick beard before finally dripping onto the plush, red carpet beneath his feet.

Rhaegar seemed to want to punch Lord Stark again and was about to march towards him; no one would dare to stop him when a voice cut through the silence like a knife through butter.

"Father, Stop," Aemon shouted at his father; his words and voice seemed to gain the desired effect; Rhaegar abruptly stopped walking, his body stiffening as he turned to face his son. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes blazed with fury as he glared at Lord Stark.

With a heavy heart and a deep sense of reluctance, the man finally relented to his son's plea and made the difficult decision to turn away from Lord Stark. In an effort to distract himself, he leaned back against his desk, trying to find comfort in the familiar surroundings of his chamber. Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Elia walking up to him with a concerned look on her face. Without saying a word, she gently took his hand in hers, hoping to offer a calming presence in the midst of his turmoil. As he felt her touch, a sense of peace washed over him.

Rhaegar's breathing slowly returned back to normal as Lord Stark straightened himself up, leaning forward from the Wall. His lower lip was still bleeding, and the punch had left a serious bruise on his left cheek; his skin had started turning red before swelling a little, but Lord Stark seemed to ignore the pain.

"Now, tell me everything that happened. I want to know everything, and you aren't leaving this room until I'm satisfied." Rhaegar ordered firmly; As Prince Aemon sunk into his seat, he let out a deep sigh, feeling as though the weight of the world was bearing down upon his shoulders. He cast his eyes around the room, searching for any sign of relief, hoping to catch a glimpse of a bottle of wine that might alleviate his troubles. A glass or two of the crimson liquid would surely help him clear his head and calm his nerves. However, Rhaella sat down beside him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek and reminding him that he was not alone in his struggles. Her hand began to softly caress his head, imparting a sense of comfort and reassurance that began to ease the tension in his body.

Despite his own worries, Aemon managed to conjure a half smile, hoping to ease her worries even just a little. As he leaned back against the royal chair, he couldn't help but marvel at its grandeur - the intricate carvings, the plush velvet cushion, and the ornate armrests. Aemon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, relishing the feeling of the cool stone wall behind him as Lord Stark told them everything, from beginning to end, how he had planned to 'return' him and Lyanna back to Winterfell, at first, how he had wanted his whole family back.

How he had killed Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Gerold Hightower so there wouldn't be any witnesses left, that part had made Ser Arthur glare at Lord Stark furiously, but the knight held himself back, keeping his emotions in check.

Lord Stark explained how he had lied to Rhaegar and everything else; Ned spoke a bit about Aemon's life in Winterfell, but letting out the unpleasant details, how Aemon had escaped Winterfell and had gone Beyond The Wall before returning after five years. After everything was said, a heavy silence descended upon the room, and its weight was almost palpable. Aemon, who had been a silent observer throughout the entire ordeal, could feel the tension building up again, like a pot of boiling water ready to spill over. Despite the stillness of the air, the sound of the wind howling outside seemed to amplify as if to mirror the turbulence of the emotions inside.

As Elia whispered something to Rhaegar, her hand was held tightly by the latter, and they both exchanged a look before Rhaegar turned to Eddard Stark with a stern expression. "Do you have any idea what you have done, Lord Stark?" Rhaegar demanded, his voice echoing in the room as he took a step forward, yet not to approach Lord Stark. Stark's eyes shifted between Elia and Rhaegar.

"Yes, I protected a member of my family. I brought him home, to the North where he belongs, where he would be safe, and not in The South where his throat would be sliced on his sleep." Ned countered with absolute conviction, no longer holding anything back.

"YOU STOLE MY SON!!" Rhaegar roared right at Lord Stark's face; Ned stood his ground, his face betraying no emotion, despite the fact that he was being yelled at by one of the most powerful men in the realm. Ned Stark was known for his stoicism, and even in the face of such a furious outburst, he refused to back away or flinch, staring directly back into Rhaegar's furious gaze. Elia couldn't help but flinch slightly when she heard Lord Stark's reason for taking Aemon.

"I brought him where his mother lived her entire life. His grandparents, his great grandparents were raised in the North. A place where he would be safe and loved, not in the South where he would need to watch every shadow and eat every bite of food with fear." Ned said defensively, his voice raising with every word he spoke right at Rhaegar's face.

"Loved you say!" he repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. "You have the audacity to claim you love my son, yet you raised him as a bastard. You let him live his entire life believing he was nothing more than a stain on your 'honor.' And not only that, but you did a poor job of hiding him from the glares and insults of the world around him. Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think I wouldn't come for him?" His words echoed off the stone walls, his voice rising to a roar that sounded almost like the mighty dragons of old.

Ned stood frozen, his eyes glued to the ground beneath him, lost in a swirl of shame and guilt. It was the first time since he arrived that he felt the pangs of regret gnawing at him, tearing him apart from the inside. His mind was whirling with thoughts of what could have been, what should have been. He wanted to scream, to deny the accusations brought against him, but he knew deep down that he was at fault. He had failed Jon, his nephew, in so many ways. He had promised himself that he would do better, that he would make amends for his mistakes, but Jon had left Winterfell before he could make things right.

Rhaegar's voice trembled with emotion as he addressed Lord Stark, his eyes burning with righteous anger and indignation. "You raised him to think of himself as less than dirt," he spat, his words laced with bitterness. "You made him believe he was a stain in your 'Honor,' my son, A Prince of The Realm. You took him from US, from where he would be safe and happy." Rhaegar gestured vehemently between himself and Elia, his wife, who stood beside him, her hand clasped tightly in his. He could feel her shaking with suppressed rage and sorrow, and he knew that he must speak for both of them.

Ned let out a small bitter laugh upon hearing his words, he didn't know why, but he did laugh a bit.

Ned's voice quivered with emotion as he spoke, his eyes burning from the tears that threatened to spill over. "Safe and happy," he repeated bitterly, his mind flashing back to the memories that haunted him every day. "You mean just like my big brother. You mean just like my father." The words were heavy with pain and longing, a testament to the love he had for the family he had lost.

"I took him away from the South," Ned continued, his voice growing more intense with every word. "Away from the place where my father and brother were killed like dogs, even worse than dogs. Your mad father butchered them, strangled and burned them while he laughed." The memory was a fresh wound that refused to heal, the memory of when he had first heard about their deaths. "House Stark lost everything to that rebellion," Ned said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I lost everything. My friend, my father, my brother, my love, and my sister." The words hung in the air like a heavy cloud, a testament to the depth of his loss and the weight of his grief.

"I took him away so he could live, to grow up and become a man. And not have his throat slit by Vipers when he's not looking," Ned spat the words, breathing heavily, all the feelings pouring out.

"Be careful how you speak of my family Lord Stark. I won't have my name and my brother's name tainted by the likes of you." Elia threatened, glaring at Lord Stark, but Ned didn't back down; he knew he was a dead man, so why bother hiding his true feelings.

"Your brother, you mean Prince Oberyn, who was exiled from Dorne for killing a lord with poison during a duel to first blood because he couldn't keep his pants up," Ned spoke sarcastically through his teeth; he knew he was dead man after saying that. His words made Elia glare at him furiously, but she didn't try to deny his claims because she knew it was the truth.

Oberyn himself had once boasted about it a few years ago to Elia, saying how lord Edgar had died shortly after the duel and how he had used a poison that couldn't be detected.

"My brother would have never harmed Aemon. You don't know him as I do; Oberyn would have never harmed an innocent child." Elia countered Ned, her eyes ablaze, glaring at him furiously for talking about Oberyn as if he was a butcher of children.

Ned had no counter words to that; perhaps Prince Oberyn wouldn't try to harm Aemon, but the past had already happened; the ink was dry, and Ned knew that, so he just closed his mouth, accepting his fate.

"Lord Stark, this is not about Prince Oberyn but you. Despite your intentions, you stole my son, a prince of Westeros, 14 years of his life I missed, and I will never be able to take them back, 14 years that I lost because of you. He could have died in your own castle. He could have died beyond the Wall. It's only a miracle that he's still breathing right now." Rhaegar quickly growled, grasping Elia's hand, hoping to make her feel better, before looking back at Lord Stark once again.

"I will have your head for this, Lord Stark," Rhaegar declared, his voice filled with venom as he looked directly at Ned's grey eyes. Ned felt a lump form in his throat, knowing that his fate was sealed and that he would soon meet his end. With a weary sigh, he closed his eyes, ready to accept his punishment. But just as he was about to nod, Aemon's voice cut through the tense silence like a knife.

"No, you won't," Aemon said, standing up from his seat; Rhaella sighed wearily, knowing this was coming; she had spent enough time with Aemon; all of them had spent enough time to know that Aemon didn't want a War to be fought over him, for what happened to him, executing Lord Stark could potentially start a War, even if House Targaryen had a Dragon now, she knew her grandson wouldn't want to burn Northern people and start a war that might split the realm, and knowing what was beyond the Wall, Rhaella knew the last thing they needed was everyone fighting each other to the Death.

"Aemon, he deserves it. He took you from us. He took you and made you live the life of a Bastard, away from your siblings and family." Elia quickly reminded Aemon; now walking up to Aemon slowly, she put a hand on his shoulder, and with a sharp shrug, he brushed her hand aside and stepped back, his eyes blazing with anger and resentment.

"You think I don't know that?" Aemon questioned with a much harsher tone than he had wanted, but his emotions were running high; he quickly looked at Elia apologetically; Elia wasn't bothered; she knew he was still young. She simply smiled at him, a gentle expression that spoke volumes and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Aemon promptly looked at his father and Lord Stark.

"I know what my...uncle did, Father." Aemon spoke to Rhaegar, who was listening to him intently; this was the first time Aemon had called Ned 'an Uncle.'

"Aemon, I can't just close my eyes and pretend nothing happened. I can't just let him go free after what he did, after what he did to all of us. He just confessed in front of us, he confessed his treason, and I can't let this kind of treason go unpunished." Rhaegar quickly spoke authoritatively; he wanted nothing more than to kill Lord Stark for his treason. The entire realm would soon know the truth of what he did. He couldn't just close his eyes and pretend everything it's alright.

"And I don't want a War to be started over me." Aemon quickly countered; Ned flinched slightly, knowing what Aemon was saying wasn't exactly nonsense, especially knowing the North's loyalty to House Stark.

"Is it really that bad for me if I don't want a War to Start? If I don't want thousands to die in a field somewhere." Aemon quickly added, looking at his father, hoping he would listen. Rhaegar sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead in frustration. He knew his son was right, but as a ruler, he had to consider the bigger picture. He couldn't let his emotions cloud his judgment. However, he also knew that his relationship with Aemon was important, and he didn't want to betray his trust. As he looked at his son's hopeful face, Rhaegar felt torn. He didn't want to disappoint him, but he also had to make tough decisions that could impact the entire kingdom. Rhaegar knew that he had to find a way to maintain his son's trust and make him understand the complexities of war and peace.

"What are you proposing then?" Rhaegar finally questioned after a short pause in the room; Rhaegar's eyes flickered at Arthur, wanting to see what his friend thought about all this; Arthur was clearly angry but reluctantly gave him a nod to at least listen to Aemon before coming to a decision, while Elia was clearly against giving Lord Stark any chance.

"The Wall, there Lord Stark will swear his vows; Robb Stark will become the new lord of the North," Aemon said with a tiny hint of hope; Ned had been silent throughout this exchange, his thoughts a tumultuous swirl of conflicting emotions. As he looked at Aemon, there was a hint of gratitude in his eyes, yet he couldn't help but wonder why his nephew was even bothering with him.

Rhaegar thought deeply about it; it would be much safer that way; for the last fourteen years, he had fought tooth and nails to ensure that peace was never broken, to make sure Westeros knew he was a good king, and to make sure he never did anything that would make people fear like they feared his mad father. Rhaegar had wanted to avoid that by any means necessary, sometimes even being soft towards certain things, to ensure his son and grandsons wouldn't have to clean the problems he left behind. To ensure that people would never look at him the same way they had looked at his father.

Burn Them All, Burn Them ALL

Rhaegar swallowed deeply, mentally shaking his head to get rid of his words; if he closed his eyes hard enough, he could still hear him in his head, laughing at him and cursing him for not being a true Targaryen and burning all His Enemies, until there was nothing but ash left behind. The words of the Mad King still haunted him like a curse that would never be lifted. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that the fate of the Seven Kingdoms rested on his shoulders.

Rhaegar felt a gentle tug on his hand and turned to see his beloved wife, Elia, standing beside him, her eyes filled with understanding and support. Elia's unwavering presence gave Rhaegar a sense of calm and reassurance. Sometimes, Rhaegar couldn't help but marvel at how well Elia knew him. With just a simple squeeze of his hand, she could ease his fears and soothe his troubled mind. He was grateful beyond words for her steadfast love and companionship and could not imagine facing the challenges of ruling a kingdom without her by his side. Every day, as he went about his duties as a leader and protector, Rhaegar thanked the gods for bringing Elia into his life. She was his rock, his anchor, and his greatest ally.

"I won't be like my father." Rhaegar suddenly spoke, opening his eyes to look at Lord Stark.

"Let it be known that I will never follow his footsteps. I'm not another Mad King." Rhaegar declared, his voice booming throughout the room; Rhaella looked at her son with pride; she knew Rhaegar was the furthest from that monster that once a long time ago was her brother.

"Lord Stark, my son thinks you should join the watch. I believe you should be executed for your crimes against my family and the realm. You will confess to everyone in the Hall what you did, and I will punish you to the Wall, and Your son Robb Stark will swear to House Targaryen before returning to Winterfell." Rhaegar decided with a bitter taste in his mouth, not liking it himself, but if it meant preventing a possible war and his son being happy, he would swallow the bitter taste. Rhaegar knew that this decision would not be popular, but sometimes the hardest choices are the ones that must be made for the greater good.

Lord Stark was silent, his face showing clear gratitude, before turning to look at Aemon.

"Why are you doing this for me, my so-nephew?" Ned questioned; he knew he didn't deserve this; he already felt very guilty about everything that had happened, the dreams, the nightmares; Ned knew if he had been in Rhaegar's place, he would have...

Aemon's words echoed through the chamber as he spoke to Ned, his voice filled with a deep sense of concern and a hint of sadness.

"Not for you," he said, his eyes fixed on Ned's, "I don't want my siblings to go through something similar that I went through." His voice trailed off momentarily as memories of the past flooded his mind, memories of loss and pain he had hoped never to relive.

"It won't be the same," he continued, his tone now more resolute, "but at least you can visit them once a year. Much better than dying and leaving them forever." Aemon's thoughts then turned to the looming threat of a possible war. "And I don't want a War to be fought," he said, his voice ringing with conviction, "I will never want to kill fellow Northerners, and I don't want to use Aegarax." His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the responsibility that he felt. As Aemon spoke, his words elicited confused looks from everyone except Rhaella, whose expression remained unchanged.

Ohh, right, Rhaella quickly remembered; she hadn't told Rhaegar about the Dragon yet, and if Aemon was bringing it up now, it meant he was ready to let everyone know that he had a Dragon.

"Who is Aegarax?" Rhaegar questioned first before anyone else could, looking at his son with a look that said he wasn't leaving the room without answering; Rhaegar noticed that Lord Stark was just as confused as the rest of them; the only one not confused was his mother.

Rhaegar repeated the name 'Aegarax' in his head; he knew that was the name of one of the fourteen gods of Valyrian; it was said to be the name of the creator of the First Dragon, either that or the first Dragon to have ever existed in the world, the most ancient Dragon, said to have existed during the Age of Heroes eight thousand years ago.

"Aegarax is my Dragon, father." His words were spoken with such sincerity that the room fell silent, all eyes turning to Aemon as Elia let out a low gasp of surprise. Even Ned, who had been doing his best to hide his shock, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this unexpected revelation. Meanwhile, Ser Arthur chuckled quietly to himself, realizing that he should have seen this coming somehow.

As King Rhaegar stood before his son, he gazed upon him with a mixture of pride and a hint of anger that he quickly brushed aside, unwilling to let it mar the moment. His eyes then shifted to his mother, who stood nearby, her expression betraying the knowledge that she had known the truth before him. Rhaegar couldn't help but feel a twinge of uncertainty at this revelation, wondering how many other secrets his mother held that he was unaware of.

"You knew mother?" As Rhaegar spoke up with a tinge of accusation, he could not help but wonder if his mother had intentionally kept the truth from him. After all, he was the King, and it was only right that he knew everything about the Dragons, especially when one of them had a rider who was his very own son. The thought of his mother concealing this important information from him was unsettling, but he tried to push it aside and focus on the matter at hand.

Rhaella knew she should have told him he was her son and the King, after all, but she had promised Aemon that she wouldn't say anything until he felt comfortable sharing the secret.

"Aemon told me only after I confronted him, Rhaegar. Me and Aemon rode beyond the hill, and I saw him myself, as white as snow and as large as Balerion." Rhaella informed her son she could see her son didn't like the fact that she had withheld such important information, but Rhaegar decided to talk with her later about it.

So that's where they had gone to, Elia thought with a look of realization, remembering the day, Aemon and Rhaella had disappeared for several hours from Harrenhal without telling anyone anything.

"I was going to reveal him to everyone during the meeting," he began, his voice low and measured, "especially for the Northern lords, to remind them all what happens if they rebel." The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, causing a palpable tension in Ned. It was evident from Aemon's demeanor that he wasn't bluffing and that the consequences of going against him would be severe. Ned knew his nephew was probably bluffing, but showing the Dragon would perhaps convince the Northern lords not to rebel against the crown.

Rhaegar nodded in understanding; the child inside him wanted to see the dragon right away; he had dreamed of them, he had always wanted to see one, to fly one, to look at the clouds from up close, to feel what his ancestors had felt before the Dance of The Dragons, but reluctantly he decided that the meeting with the lords couldn't wait any longer. The lords of Westeros had been waiting for almost an hour now. The knowledge of his son owning a Dragon gave Rhaegar a boost of confidence.

"Where is he now?" Rhaegar suddenly questioned, a bit of awe in his voice. At that moment, he sounded like a kid who just got their favorite toy.

"Right there." Aemon simply pointed at one of the many square windows of the chamber. Rhaegar quickly stood up, as did Elia, who walked up to the window.

Looking up at the blue sky with small clouds scattered around, Rhaegar squinted his eyes, and for a moment, he couldn't see him. Suddenly, Aegarax emerged from a nearby cloud, gliding gracefully through the air. Rhaegar's heart swelled with awe as he took in the sight of his magnificent dragon, who was as white as the clouds around him and seemed to dwarf everything else around him. Despite the distance between them, Rhaegar could see every detail of Aegarax's enormous form, from his piercing purple eyes to his razor-sharp claws gleaming in the sunlight. It was a breathtaking sight, one that Rhaegar knew he would never forget.

Rhaegar let out a gasp of amazement, completely awestruck by the sheer size and majesty of the beast. His heart raced with excitement at the thought of riding such a creature into the sky. Elia, on the other hand, had a similar reaction, but her eyes showed a tiny hint of fear. She knew all too well that this dragon was powerful enough to destroy every castle in Westeros by himself. Despite its beauty, there was a primal danger that lurked within the creature's fiery breath and razor-sharp claws. As she watched the dragon soaring through the sky, Elia couldn't help but feel a sense of awe mixed with dread.

Rhaegar really wanted to look at the dragon from up close, to look at his scales glittering like stars from the sunlight, but knew he had left his lords waiting for a long time now; his voice with more confidence now, he turned to face everyone else in the room.

King Rhaegar's deep voice echoed in the chamber as he issued the order to the rest of the chamber, "To the Great Hall!" With quick and agile movements, the three Kingsguards followed the King, their swords at the ready, as they made their way out of the chamber. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the halls of the castle, signaling their arrival to anyone within earshot.

Great Hall of Harrenhal

As the lords of the seven kingdoms gathered in the grand hall, their boisterous conversations filled the air, creating a buzzing atmosphere that echoed throughout the great hall's walls. The lords, adorned in their finest garments, had been waiting for King Rhaegar's arrival for over an hour, their impatience growing with each passing moment. Some discussed the latest news from their lands, while others debated the best tactics for possible upcoming battles against future enemies. The sound of their voices was so loud that it seemed to resonate through the entire castle, making it clear to all that the lords were eager to see their king.

But after an hour of waiting, they were growing impatient, especially those from House Tully. Mainly Cersei and Edmure, who were glaring at the Royal Children sitting at the high table in the hall.

The Great Hall of Harrenhal had two long windows that adorned the walls of the grand chamber. These windows were no ordinary panes of glass, for they afforded a breathtaking view of the world beyond the castle walls. Through them, everyone could see the sprawling courtyard below, bustling with activity, as well as the imposing, dark walls of Harrenhal that stretched far into the distance. And beyond those walls lay a vast expanse of land, teeming with life.

The ones present from the Royal Family were Prince Aegon, who had his arm covered in bandages, Prince Viserys, Princess Daenerys, and Princess Rhaenys; four Kingsguards and fifty Targaryen guards were all around the Great Hall, not allowing anyone to get close to the Crown Prince and the others.

Arya sat impatiently in the hall beside Robb and Sansa, her eyes darting around the room as she anxiously searched for her father and brother, Jon. She could feel the tension radiating off Sansa, who was still fuming over Val's controversial crowning as the Queen of Love and Beauty. Nevertheless, Arya's concern for her family overrode any interest in the festivities. "Where are they, Robb?" she asked, her voice laced with worry and impatience. "I can't find them anywhere."

"Perhaps it has to do with Jon perhaps becoming a Kingsguard," Bran reasoned, looking at Arya, who felt her stomach twisting at the thought of Jon leaving them.

"Why gather the whole realm here, then?" questioned Robb, his brows furrowed in confusion. He scanned the faces of the northern lords sitting around the table, seeking answers. "No, this is something far more important," he added, his voice steady and resolute. As he spoke, the lords nodded in agreement, their expressions serious and grave. Yet, amidst the hushed whispers and furrowed brows, Lady Maege and Lord Howland Reed remained unmoved.

GreatJon turned towards Maege; his eyes fixated on her as he asked with a hint of curiosity, "Maege, do you know what this is about?" He couldn't help but notice her calm and collected demeanor, in contrast to the rest of the group, who were all asking questions and expressing their confusion; before Maege could think of an excuse, the grand double door of the Great Hall creaked open. With a resounding clank, the metallic sound of the door reverberated through the high ceilings of the Great Hall of Harrenhal, announcing the arrival of the King and sending a shiver down the spine of all those present.

"All Rise For His Grace, King Rhaegar of House Targaryen, the First of his Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and The Protector of The Realm, Queen Elia of House Martell, and Queen Rhaella of House Targaryen." As the Herald's voice echoed throughout the hall, a hush fell over the crowd, and every head turned towards the arched entrance, where the King and his Queen stood, resplendent in their regal finery. The Herald's booming voice commanded everyone to rise in honor of His Grace, and as one, the audience stood, bowing and curtsying in deference to their beloved monarch and his queen.

As each lord in the grand hall rose from their seat, the sound of their shuffling feet echoed across the stone floor. They all turned their attention towards the center of the room where their king, King Rhaegar, walked forward with an air of regal grace and pride. His head was held high, his armor gleaming in the flickering torchlight. Yet, despite the King's imposing presence, the lords could not help but notice the figure of Jon Snow, walking quietly behind Queen Rhaella. Meanwhile, Lord Stark strode a bit further behind.

"Ned!" GreatJon's voice boomed across the Great Hall, causing several heads to turn in his direction, but Ned Stark seemed to be in his own world as he strode towards the high table, his eyes fixed on a distant point. His family called out to him, but he barely acknowledged them, his mind consumed with the events that had led him to this moment, and everyone noticed Jon Snow sitting right beside Princess Rhaenys.

"What is happening here?" he questioned, his voice laced with curiosity and suspicion. His daughters, standing beside him, all shrugged their shoulders in unison, clearly just as clueless as he was. But Arianne couldn't help but smirk at her uncle's confusion, knowing the truth would soon be revealed. Oberyn noticed the way Rhaenys was whispering to Jon Snow; he wondered just what was happening here, why was someone of Jon's status sitting with the Royal Family.

"Why is Jon Snow sitting there?" GreatJon questioned out loud; every Northern Lord looked at Jon; Even Roose Bolton, who had been observing the proceedings with a detached air, arched an eyebrow in curiosity at what he was seeing. Meanwhile, Domeric, the young heir to House Bolton, who was seated beside his father, had a look of realization as he realized the implications of Jon Snow sitting beside the Royal Family.

The White Dragon in the sky, Jon Snow looking identical to King Rhaegar, Lord Stark not telling anyone about Jon Snow's mother, Lord Stark returning from the tower of Joy with a child, am I the only one who can see the obvious? Domeric thought, knowing the storm that was about to come.

King Rhaegar Targaryen rose from his ornate and imposing royal chair, his posture and demeanor regal and commanding as he held his head high and scanned the faces of each and every person assembled in the grand hall of Harrenhal. A hushed and expectant silence descended upon the room as the gathered nobles and courtiers eagerly awaited the monarch's words, their eyes fixed upon him in rapt attention. With a deliberate and measured movement, King Rhaegar cleared his throat, his gaze unwavering as he began to speak, his voice ringing out with a sonorous power that resonated through the entire hall.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming to the Hall," he intoned, his tone gracious yet tinged with an underlying gravity that was impossible to ignore. "Due to recent events, House Targaryen has been forced to confront some difficult truths. Today, secrets have been revealed, and treason has been committed against the royal family." As the weight of his words settled upon the assembled crowd, the tension in the room palpable, King Rhaegar's voice swelled and boomed, echoing through the vast and magnificent space.

His words earned a look of shock from everyone in the Hall, especially the Northern Lords who were getting impatient, especially with the way their Liege Lord was standing a bit further away from the King, with three guards around him as if he was some prisoner.

GreatJon's voice boomed through the halls, his words echoing off the walls as he rose from his seat with a sharp, sudden movement. "Who is this traitor?" he bellowed, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he cast his gaze back and forth between the king and Lord Stark

"And why is my Liege Lord standing there?" GreatJon quickly added, pointing at Ned Stark, getting nods of approval from almost every Northern Lord around him; Robb felt his throat go dry, a dread feeling spreading in his chest, as King Rhaegar cleared his throat.

"Because the Traitor is Lord Eddard of House Stark."

Those words had the effect everyone expected; the air in the room seemed to shift as if a sudden gust of wind had blown through the open windows. The Southern lords exchanged incredulous glances while Cersei Lannister allowed a small, triumphant smirk to play across her lips as she rubbed her hands together in satisfaction.

For his part, Lord Eddard of House Stark stood stoically, his face a mask of calm in the face of such a damning accusation. But the Lords of the North, his bannermen and sworn allies, were not so composed.

All at once, they rose to their feet as one, their faces contorted with fury and disbelief. "Lies!" bellowed GreatJon Umber, his voice thundering through the hall like a horn of war.

"Lies, all of them! Lord Eddard is no traitor! He has served the North and the realm with honor and distinction, and we will not stand idly by and allow his good name to be besmirched in this way!" As the GreatJon's words echoed through the hall, a low rumble of agreement rose up from the other Lords of the North, and it was clear that Lord Eddard had no shortage of staunch defenders in this room.

"Lord Umber, stand down. Lord Eddard Stark will confess his crimes himself." Rhaegar ordered, looking at the man; each of the kingsguards had their hands on the pommel of their respective swords, ready to protect the Royal Family if needed.

"Ned, tell us the Truth. What is happening?" Lord Umber shouted at Ned, knowing his lord would tell them what was happening and what lies the Dragon King was telling them. Ned found it hard to look at his lords in the eye, to look at his family, knowing his words would change everything, but he would do it.

"My name is Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and The North. In front of everyone, I confess my crimes of stealing Prince Aemon Targaryen and raising him as my bastard son, Jon Snow...." It took almost half an hour for Ned to confess everything; after everything was said and done, no one knew what to think anymore.

Even Tywin was genuinely shocked by the news he had just heard. Tywin raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He had been prepared for treachery from many of his adversaries, but the notion that the honorable Lord Stark would stoop to such a lowly act had never even crossed his mind. Lord Jaime looked at the supposed lost Prince; he wasn't sure what to make of this; he had barely spent time with him to know what kind of Prince he was.

Olenna visibly frowned after hearing Lord Stark's confession, knowing Prince Aemon was a possible danger to Margaery and even her future children, but Olenna knew she had time to think; she was a patient woman and decided just how dangerous Prince Aemon was to Margaery and Prince Aegon.

As Ashara gazed deeply into Ned's eyes, her heart felt heavy with sadness; her mind clouded with the knowledge of what was about to happen next. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she fought to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape her trembling lips.

No, No, it's not, Arya thought, a feeling of dread spreading on her entire body like a sickness; looking around, she couldn't believe it, Jon was...Jon, her brother, and he would always be.

So we have a wolf in our midst; is he a Wolf or a Dragon? Oberyn questioned himself, looking only at who apparently was a Prince and not a bastard, and the worst part, he could see the way Rhaenys was holding his hand, his niece might think she was being discreet, but Oberyn wasn't blind. I need to talk with Elia; he can be another Blackfyre or Aegon II, Oberyn thought, hoping this was the only surprise he would get today.

"You're not going to do what I think you're going to do," GreatJon shouted, slowly approaching the high tables of the Great Hall; GreatJon's words were met with a resounding chorus of agreement as the other lords echoed his concerns with a loud 'Aye,' especially from his son.

Before Rhaegar could tell GreatJon to sit down, the latter turned to look at Aemon. "And you, you're a Northerner boy. You're a child of the North. Lord Stark brought you to the North where you belong, and this is how you repay him. Betraying him, betraying your Blood." GreatJon shouted furiously, pointing an accusing finger at Aemon; this made every single Kingsguard in the Great Hall unsheath their swords.

As Aemon's eyes met GreatJon's, his face contorted with a seething rage that seemed to heat the air around them. With a sudden jolt, he stood up from his chair, his movements so swift and forceful that the chair almost toppled over behind him. Without a word, he strode purposefully around the table, his eyes locked onto GreatJon's, and positioned himself squarely behind it and in front of GreatJon.

"I didn't betray anyone. My blood is Stark, and my mother was a Northern Lady through and through, but my Blood is Targaryen too. I didn't betray Anyone." Aemon spoke at GreatJon Furiously, his hand going to the pommel of Wolf's Blood.

"You think the North will stand for this?" GreatJon roared, his voice booming throughout the entire Great Hall, earning approval nods from the majority of the Northern Lords.

"The North will always be a part of me, ingrained in my very being. Its people, its customs, its traditions - all of it runs through my veins. I have no desire to engage in conflict with any of you but make no mistake. I will not hesitate to defend my House." The tension in the room was palpable as Aemon continued, his eyes narrowing slightly, "If any of you dare to cross me, know that Aegarax will rain down flames upon you. I do not seek bloodshed, especially not the blood of my own kin, but I will not stand idly by while my home is threatened." Aemon's words hung in the air, his tone firm and threatening. But his words confused everyone, especially the Northern Lords, before anyone could ask who Aegarax was...

ROAR

A deafening thunderous roar echoed through every corridor and chamber of the ancient fortress. The impact was so intense that the castle itself shook and trembled as if it was about to crumble down to the ground. The lords and ladies who were gathered in the Great Hall were caught off guard by the sudden commotion. Some stood frozen, staring at each other in disbelief, while others instinctively reached for their weapons.

"The Sevens Above. What was that?"

"My lords," Aemon spoke, gaining everyone's attention. "That is my Dragon, Aegarax," he declared, his words ringing out with the force of a thunderclap. As if in response to his master's command, Aegarax swooped down from the sky, his massive wings beating a thunderous rhythm that echoed throughout the castle. The ground shook beneath the feet of the gathered lords, and the walls of Harrenhal trembled as if a giant's fist was pounding upon them.

As the people gathered in the great hall, a sense of dread filled the air. Suddenly, a gasp echoed throughout the room as everyone looked toward the large windows. There, just outside the Walls of Harrenhal, stood Aegarax - a mighty Dragon. Despite the walls of the castle being immense, they paled in comparison to the sheer size of the dragon. Aegarax's scales shone in the sunlight as he looked back at the people with fierce intensity. Suddenly, the dragon let out a deafening roar, warning everyone of his presence. It was a reminder that House Targaryen had once again risen to power, and with their dragons, they were once again The Gods Amongst Men.

This is the Worst; not only he's a legitimate Targaryen, but he has a Dragon, Oberyn thought; his hand trembled as he tried to steady himself, but his body was betraying him. His face was slick with sweat. All of his years of experience in combat suddenly felt meaningless in the face of this new threat, and for the first time in many years, he was scared of someone.

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