71 -||

The party arranged by his viper was merry; indeed, there were songs, dances, music, games, and, of course, food and drink. All the inhabitants of the City were invited, nobles, commoners, and the Dwarves of Magni were in attendance as well. They would have departed the day before, but the promise of food and drink had convinced them to stay strangely; the liveliest guest were the Elves who drank, sang and made bawdy jokes.

Rhaella enjoyed an Elven whiskey and spoke amiably to the dwarves who regaled her with tales of her grandson's heroics in the Rhovanion. She hadn't talked to him since they had returned, but she knew her grandson was staring at her, and when their eyes met, she blushed, hoping perhaps they could speak after the feast... Although their relationship would never be the same, indeed, she hoped that her grandsons' seed had taken root and she was with child.

For Jon, the party was enjoyable though he lamented the strength of the spirits since the elven wine that his beloved elves brought from Belfalas was the only thing that could cloud his mind for a few moments, yet he missed to his brothers in arms, Loras and Robar who long tarried on the North, indeed there had been a wound in his heart that wouldn't mend until he saw his brothers again.

The thought of being so long apart from them filled him with melancholy... but that was swiftly forgotten; he heard the voice of his cousin Sansa who appeared from the crowd beaming in joy.

His cousin was beautiful, wearing a gown of red satin, and about her waist was a girdle of silver inlaid with pearls and sapphires.

"Jon…" Sansa said happily, and he knew she wanted something.

"Yes, Sansa?" Jon asked.

"Sing a tune, please," Sansa said, smiling splendidly. He was surprised he hadn't thought to sing tonight, content to sit idle and enjoy the merrymaking his viper had organised for him, but when he saw his cousin's eyes glittering in mirth, Jon knew he couldn't refuse her, more so when she was joined by a gaggle of friends who likewise requested a song.

He smiled at her. "Very well… I'll ask them to bring my harp." Jon looked to the servants, who nodded and, as quick as lightning.... scampered off to fetch his harp.

For several moments Jon waited for the arrival of his instrument, and when it was brought, the whole room fell silent… For they had never heard that their Prince was a bard.

When the young Targaryen glanced at his harp, he smiled, remembering his old friend … And he knew which song would be the first, Sansa's favourite.

Jon began to sing the ballad of Beren and Lúthien; many a maiden wept for the beauty of the verse, chiefly his, whose eyes were thick with teas; this was her favourite verse as the romance of Beren and Lúthien was akin to the tales of knights and princesses she had grown up with.

Finally, the song ended, and the hall thundered merrily with the cheers of the lords and elves, many entreating him to repeat the verse while some requested other sonnets of various origins.

But he chose to sing the song of Eärendil, undoubtedly his grandest piece… many listened in wonder to the words regarding the deeds of the Greatest of the Sailors of Arda. Next, he sang the melodies he had learned in Lindon and lastly, several dwarven ballads which greatly pleased his guest, with many hurray's and requests for encores.

It was then he heard Galadriel in his mind, "Are you enjoying yourself, my Wild Wolf?" and this gladdened him; his beloved spoke to none in this way save himself, and he replied happily. 'Aye, my love, this party is truly a delight… Ari has a gift for arranging celebrations….".

Galadriel laughed merrily. "True; however, you've made this evening far grander. It's been far too long since I've heard your voice, my love and the evening is far richer for it."

Now we are together again, my love, and we shall not be parted again; every day apart felt as an Age of this world.

He smiled. "I know, my love, it's been long months without Lalwen and yourself… But now both of you are here… And with all of you with me… I couldn't be gladder… I feel complete."

"I'm glad to hear it; now I shall give you something…." Galadriel said gailey.

"What is it?" Jon asked curiously.

"Our gift for our engagement… Galadriel said happily, "Look behind you."

And he did so, leaving his harp in the hands of a servant and rising from his seat when he gazed upon his beloved Jon's heart welled in a furious passion.

Galadriel was clad in a raiment of purest white was overlaid with a tracery of flowers and leaves wrought of silver and gold and upon her head was a crown of silver.

"This was my mother's dress for festivals of Alqualondë, although she wears a crown made of swan feathers... Hence her title..." Galadriel said happily, recalling the beauty of her dear mother.

"Is this how your mother ensnared your father, my love?" He japed, and he then felt the sting of her magics upon his mind; undoubtedly, she wasn't amused.

For the briefest moment, she frowned. "Don't be a brute, Jon… or we won't share the bed…." Galadriel said, vexed with her love, yet she still offered her arm, and he took it with a smile, pleased to have her so close again.

"We'll see how greatly you defy me, beloved... You shall surrender ere the Sun rises..." Jon growled, and he felt the fire of passion consume her; she looked to him again and smiled evilly.

"You are bold, my Wolf... Perhaps this will teach you good manners," Galadriel said, swiftly leading him to the dance floor.

Jon grumbled, knowing he had lost this fight… Galadriel knew how much he hated dancing, yet refusing the daughter of the High King would've been a grave insult none could compare.

Jon could sense the look of anger and envy of the rest of his loved ones, and the young Targaryen groaned as he imagined what awaited him. There was only one thing to do to appease their outrage… he would have to dance with each in turn.

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Jon and Galadriel were the chief pair in the Great Hall, and though he disliked dancing, he could sense the happiness of his beloved as they waltzed to and fro, their hearts beating as one.

But soon, the song ended, and Galadriel parted from him; she was quickly replaced by Rhaenys; then when their dance ended, Sansa followed, then Arya, Ashara, Shiera, Daenerys and lastly Arianne.

Each of those his lady loves wore their jewels and glittered as the stars, no doubt pleased to show the maidens of the City to whom his heart was given to still Jon hadn't wished to rouse the ire of his subjects, but perhaps this was for the best he'd prefer a horde of dragon's than his love displeased.

After many merry dances and several toasts in his honour, the festivities began to die down though Jon sensed his dearest Lawlen was drawing near no doubt to ask for a dance as they hadn't seen each other much during the celebrations.

Arianne spied her first a vision of splendour; his lawlen was clad in a dress of black satin with golden flowers sewn into the bodice, and around her neck, the necklace of maltagil shone like the Sun cresting over the embers of a dying flame and as she drew near Arianne tightened her hold around him.

Lalwen merely arched an elegant eyebrow and offered her hand to him and smiled; although Arianne's countenance turned sour, she knew Írimë wouldn't be denied, so with a heavy heart, she kissed him and allowed him to dance with the Daughter of Finwë.

And so Jon began to give his last dance that night.

"What's wrong, Nin Mel?... You look tense..." Lalwen said, no doubt amused by his mood.

"I don't like to dance... I'm remarkably sullen," Jon murmured.

"But you danced so well tonight..." Lalwen said, laughing at her lover.

"Lalwen… I do it because I know it makes them cheerful… But I don't enjoy it… Seeing you smile, though… It makes it worth it," Jon said amusedly.

"Oh, my noble dragon..." Írimë said, reddening and then she kissed him happily, causing the hall to erupt in murmurs.

"Now your kin and mine will know about us… My beloved ray of sunshine," Jon said lovingly.

"Nin Mel…" Said the Princess of the Noldor, reddening at her sobriquet

"Well, it's not like we hid it," Jon said with a laugh.

"I think not… Oh, my Nin Mel, how I longed to be in your arms," Írimë said, burying her face in his chest. He smiled; it was wonderful to hold her close after so long apart.

"Let's enjoy this song, my love... I'm weary... I didn't desire to sing nor dance so much," Jon said, bringing his face close to Lalwen's golden tresses; she smelled of honeysuckle and wildflowers.

"I know, although I feel beholden to your cousin... It's been too long since I heard you sing..." Írimë said, pleased. "You must sing more frequently, my silly dragon."

"Yes, Galadriel told me something similar," Jon said, relishing Lalwen's closeness greatly.

She gazed at him and smiled. "My niece hold's your voice in highest regard, my dragon."

They continued to dance until the bards had ceased their song. Then, finally, Jon bid the guest enjoy the festivities and drink as he wished to retire for the evening; entering his chambers, he instructed the maid to prepare a bath and began disrobing, eager to rest; tomorrow would be a harrowing day as they sought to root out the spies, and hopefully unravel their plots.

----------------------

After the bath, Jon strolled into his chambers and saw his beloved sitting on his bed; she wore a gown of thin silk, and next to her sat an oaken box.

"Galadriel…" Jon said, surprised.

"Hello, my Wolf, did you think you could escape from me so easily?" The Lady of Light asked, amused.

"Of course not, my Star, but I thought you might want to enjoy the party," he said, bewildered, but she merely giggled happily.

"Not my silly Wolf, the party that Arianne prepared was splendid, but I have little interest in attending if you are not there… But let us speak no more of parties and merriment, now I want to give you something… Something that has been in my keeping ere Eregion fell," Galadriel said, overcome with joy.

And Jon, keen, slowly opened the box…

Inside lay a remarkable stone of a clear green, set in a silver brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings; and as he held it up, the gem flashed like the sun shining through the leaves of spring.

"It is a gift given to Idril by Celebrimbor ere Gondolin fell and she then passed it to her son and he left it in my keeping; the name of the gem is Elessar. " Galadriel said happily, taking the stone, placing it in Jon's hand and kissing her beloved with all the passion she could muster.

"The Elessar Stone..." Jon muttered; upon touching the stone, it seemed that many years of toil had fallen from his shoulders.

"Although compared to the Silmaril, this may not be a great gift..." Galadriel began to say, but Jon silenced her with a fierce kiss.

"Don't say that again, my beloved Star... Any gift from you is more valuable to me than the gems of the earth..." Jon answered, kissing Galadriel's forehead, who only smiled and blushed like a maiden in love.

"Now… perhaps we should sleep?" Jon asked, but to his surprise, she shook her head and put a finger to her lips.

"It's a splendid idea... But before we can rest, we are expecting company," Galadriel said mischievously.

"Who?" Jon asked, but at that moment, he heard the door to his chambers open, and Írimë waltzed in; much like Galadriel, she wore a gown of silk, the sight of his beloved filled him with delight though he hadn't expected her.

"Hello, Nin Mel…" Lalwen said seductively, her emerald eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Lalwen," Jon said, surprised.

"Are you surprised to see us in your chambers, Nin Mel? You should have known that sooner or later, we would share a bed," Said the beautiful elf innocently.

"Lalwen…" Jon started to say but was suddenly thrown onto the bed by a giggling Galadriel.

"Don't worry, my beloved Wolf… Tonight we won't ask you to fulfil your husbandly obligations; we know you are weary from your travels and Arianne's party; we will let you sleep…." Galadriel said in a honeyed manner, and Jon swallowed hard.

"And we will take care of you while you sleep…." Lalwen said though he glimpsed that she was deeply flushed and even embarrassed.

And Jon didn't take long to understand why, unlike her niece, his dearest was rather prudish akin to Sansa, and though she had hoped to share a bed with him and Galadriel, the act of doing so was another matter altogether.

Nevertheless, she lay beside him, and he was soon enraptured by Írimë's wondrous perfume; it felt as if he had drunk a heady spirit, and his mind was clouded.

"Lalwen… How…" Jon tried to say as he listened to his lover's laugh.

"Sshhh, Jon, Jon, Jon… my dearest Nin Mel, you are within my grasp," Lalwen replied, kissing him again.

"It's "our hands" dear aunt, our wolf is in "our hands"..." Galadriel said, kissing him as passionately as her aunt.

Although they had made peace by allying against their lover's mortal concubines, there was still some jealousy and rivalry between them.

"It seems I need a larger bed", Jon said, feeling sleep claiming him.

"Yes, you should, my Wolf… know that neither of us shall sleep alone again; we will always be by your side… And after tonight, we won't be the only ones to share your bed…." Though she said this with joy, Jon could hear a tinge of bitterness in her tone; it seems their rivalries with his family shall endure by the Valar. It was troublesome, but all good love is.

"But tonight, you are only for us, my dragon Rhaenys, and the others shall not trouble us... our guards shall keep them occupied, and I may have placed a rune of locking upon the door," Írimë said, kissing once more before falling asleep.

Jon was going to question what Lalwen meant by occupied, yet his weariness was too great, and he too fell asleep to the sounds of his beloved Star singing.

----------------------------

Jon didn't know how long he had slept; all he knew was that he had been roused by someone hammering at the door.

 Írimë and Galadriel awoke with a start and wondered what in the devil was going on, but he hadn't the slightest clue. Jon thought it might be Rhaenys come to throw the girls out, so he angrily hurried towards the door and flung it open ready to tell her off, but it wasn't Rhaenys; indeed, it was none of his kin.

Before him stood three guards of his own household and two Elves who had accompanied Írimë and Galadriel; they were all clad in armour and looked at him warily.

"What is your purpose?" Jon asked, troubled that his and his love's respite was ruined.

"We are sorry to wake you, my Prince… But there is something you must see," Said one of his guards.

"What is it about?" Jon asked, soughing in vexation.

The Elven guard strode forward, bowed low, and then spoke, "One of our men arrested five men coming out of the tower... At first, he thought they were thieves, but then he heard them mutter in the old Adûnaic tongue, and none have uttered that cursed speech ere Numenor fell." Then his companion stepped forward. "We roused the Lord Azrubên who ordered us to seize all their possessions… We are certain they are spies as they carried gold minted in Umbar on their person,"

Instantly Jon's face harshened, and he growled, compelling the guards to recoil in fright.

"I'll be right there… Wake up the rest of the Council… Including my grandmother," Jon ordered.

"As my Prince orders…." Another of his guards said.

"I will go and rouse Lady Galadriel, also Lady Írimë…." The elven guard said, and Jon turned white.

"There's no need… I'll take care of it, Ser… I know very well I can't order you, but maybe it's better if you go with your men in case you find any more spies trying to escape…." Jon said, labouring to stem his rage.

The elf guard watched him in silence for a few moments and nodded, following after his companions, no doubt going to rouse the others.

"By the Valar, that was close," Jon thought, latching the door.

"Indeed, my Wolf…" said Galadriel amusedly.

"This is a disgrace", A drowsy Írimë complained.

"I know, but it seems that fortune smiles on us… It appears that the rats have fled their holes…." Jon said, growling.

"We'll accompany you, but you must control your temper," Galadriel said worriedly.

"I know… Our idyllic night's sleep was interrupted…." Jon cursed.

"I know Nin Mel, Artanis, and I are of the same mind... you have a duty to these people," Írimë said earnestly, and he nodded.

---------------------

Soon the members of the council were summoned to the Great Hall; the guards had even roused his loved ones who ambled wearily into the halls, all wrapped in cloaks of silk or fur, hoping to conceal their night shifts.

In the great hall where there had been a wonderful party just a few hours before, there sat five men clapped in irons; each was beaten and bruised, no doubt putting up a struggle when caught, and he knew them.

One of them had gone with him to Emyn Arnen. What was he doing with them? And as for the others, Jon was sure that he had seen them on occasion in the tower in some cases when leaving Council meetings... He had never paid them any notice... But now they stood before him; Jon could discern their hearts marred by a shadow most foul.

"Jon, what's wrong?" Arianne asked, approaching him.

"Ari, I think we found our spies…." Jon said evilly and gave Galadriel a silent look… She gave no answer, but she need nought her blue eyes turned hard as iron.

Hearing the word spies, Daenerys approached them with anger and hatred in her eyes and struck one hard across the face.

"You were the ones who told those damned that my mother and I would be in the Ports of Pelargir?... ANSWER!" Cried Daenerys.

But that man said nought, merely smiling before spitting a gob of bloody phlegm at his aunt's feet.

Rhaenys stepped forward to strike the fool again, but he stayed her hand, much to his sister's ire.

"Why are you stopping me, Brother?" Rhaenys asked, bewildered, but he did not answer, and without uttering a word, he seized the spy by his neck and, with a swift movement, turned his head to the side but so heavy was the blow that the spies neck was broken and he fell to the astonishment of those gathered.

None uttered a word looking at him, shocked by his act, but cared little for the ire... No slight against his family, especially one so grievous, would be endured; seeing what had happened to their companion, they began to tremble and cry dark prayers, and even the elves recoiled in fear of him.

"Jon, but what?..." A shocked Rhaella said, covering her mouth in shock.

"Not now, Grandmother..." Jon said

"That was not needed, my Prince... How may we divulge the secrets of a dead man" Lord Azrubên said, sweating coldly in a tone of reproach.

"He would not have said anything, my Lord; this man spat at Daenerys's feet... Doubtless, he cared little if he lived or died, and I will not tolerate such a slight against me or my kin... Now lets us deal with the others; perhaps their tongues have loosened..." Jon growled, still riled by these upstarts and their cruel hearts.

For Galadriel and Írimë, the knowledge that their beloved would defend them and their honour filled them with great joy… yet his temper had frightened them greatly…they had learned their beloved's wrath was a terrible thing to behold akin to Caranthir.

"Clearly, they are not of the Faithful, and the coins of Umbar clearly put them in a compromising position, not to mention that Lady Galadriel's guards caught them speaking a tongue long dead and only uttered by servants of evil in these days, I'll only ask you once... Are you King's Men?" Jon asked, looking at them so intently that it seemed that he would pierce them with his gaze, and they nodded in fear.

"We are…" Another of them said, sighing trying to behave with dignity, but the fear in his eyes was palpable.

"Since when are they passing information...?" Lord Hallatar asked.

"Since long before the Fall of Númenor… Since the days of Ar-Gimilzôr," Said another of the captives,

"How?" asked Lord Azrubên in shock.

"When the Faithful were forced to go live in Rómenna, Ar-Gimilzôr ordered our families to go live among you to watch over them and report your comings and going, then we fulfilled our mission with his son Gimilkhâd and later with his son Ar- Pharazôn, our family has watched over the sons of Elendil since the Fall of Númenor… Paying obeisance to the Lords of Umbar… The true sons of Númenor and heirs of Ar-Pharazôn.." The third muttered proudly.

The anger of the Gondorians was terrible to behold; they jeered and cursed the spies, yet it was Shiera who spoke first. "You are nothing more than ingrates who turned from the light of Eru and embraced the darkness", Shiera screamed angrily; his silver dragon was embittered by rage, no doubt as these fools played a part in the destruction of their people.

In the end, Ashara embraced her hoping to calm Shiera. It was then he remembered one of the captives.

"I know you…." Jon said, suddenly startling everyone.

"Jon?" Ashara said, approaching her love.

"You went to Emyn Arnen with me, and you were there when we found the first silver veins…." Jon said.

"The person you left in charge... Sûlchanar sent me to spread the news of your discovery... Only my endeavour wasn't fruitful..." That traitor said with a nervous smile.

"He knows he is doomed… It is only the value of a cornered animal…." They all concluded.

"How long have you infested this city, I wonder?" Lord Azrubên asked angrily.

"Since the battle of Isengard... Half a century ago..." The same man answered, and his companions looked at him with disgust; it seems there is no honour among the King's Men.

"You informed Fuinur and Herumor that my daughter and I were going to the Havens of Pelargir?" Rhaella growled indignantly.

Indignation that swiftly turned to anger when they smiled evilly, seemingly pleased by her suffering

Rhaella lost her composure and, with a cry of rage, hurled herself at the man and furiously clawed at his eyes, weeping all the while, remembering what she and her daughter had been through in Umbar.

In the end, Jon gently took Rhaella by her shoulders and led her away.

"Enough, grandmother… Enough… Don't let these wretches see you in this state; you are a dragon… They must look at you with fear and reverence, not mockery," Jon said somberly, hoping to calm his grandmother, who cried into his tunic.

"What is to become of us?" asked the black Numenorean who had been injured by Rhaella.

"You shall be tried for your crimes and die," Jon replied without hesitation.

"Nin Mel..." Írimë said, surprised by Jon's character.

"We have families…" another black Numenorean replied, and Jon grunted in annoyance.

"You fool cared little for them when you swore yourselves to the Dark Tower...How many have perished for your treachery?" Rhaenys growled, and Dany supported her. "How many mothers, sons and daughters were taken from the Havens taken as slaves for your Southron servants."

"That was not their fate…." Galadriel said coldly, and they looked at her curiously.

"My lady?" Jon asked, feeling the rage of his beloved.

"Those women and children who were captured... They were sacrifices... To the Great Enemy," Galadriel said, and soon all light and joy were gone.

Hardly had the Lady of Light said those words, then all the fear and shock at Jon's fierce efforts were forgotten, and all looked at Ar-Adûnâim with disgust.

"Blasphemy..." An Elf snarled, brandishing his sword, but his companion stopped him.

Then a second Elf sprang forward and drew a dagger of silver. "My Lady, I beg your permission to execute these turncoats."

"That is not for us to decide. We are merely guests in the halls," Galadriel said, glancing at Jon.

"They will all be executed hereafter... But, until then, clap them in irons and throw them in the dungeon..." Jon answered.

"And our families?" one of them asked.

"provided they were ignorant of your treachery, No harm shall come to them… But your families will dwell here no longer… they shall be given a horse and allowed to take what provisions they wish, but Gondor shall never welcome them again." Jon replied.

"My Prince..." Lord Hallatan said, surprised by this generosity.

"Despite what you have just seen… I am not a terror, nor do I punish children for their father's crimes; my Lord, the families of these men, shall depart from Osgiliath after the executions are carried out, provided their blamelessness can be proven. This is the word of your Prince, and you shall hearken to it," Jon said in a solemn and implacable tone.

"As you command…." Lord Hallatan said, bowing.

"Somebody clean this up..." Jon said, pointing to the corpse crumpled on the floor.

"I will order some servants to take care of my Prince…." Lord Azrubên said.

"Well… Now, if there are no more matters to attend… Perhaps we should rest... I have to carry out an execution tomorrow and perhaps more thereafter," Jon said, as the King's men cowered in fear.

He then spied Rhaella's leaving and moved to stop her. "Grandmother…." she stopped and turned to face him; her eyes were red and teary. "Yes, Baelon?" Rhaella asked fearfully.

"Let me walk you to your chambers... I have to talk to you for a moment... And it can't wait," Jon said wearily, and Rhaella, though weary from the trial and yearning for rest, smiled and nodded it was best they speak of what happened. Naturally, their closeness aroused the curiosity of the remaining guest.

What should Jon and his grandmother talk about? And why couldn't he wait?

The only one who knew about it was Daenerys, and although she was worried about what might happen, the Dragon Princess chose to keep what happened between Jon and her mother a secret.

"Thank you very much. Now, let us retire for the evening," Jon said.

"My guards will escort these men to the dungeons and watch them until their execution…?" Galadriel said, and her guards nodded.

He smiled at his beloved. "Thank you for your help, my Lady, and now by the Valar, let's all go to sleep, tomorrow shall be difficult, and we will need our strength."

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After that horrible business was over, Jon led his grandmother back to her chambers and latched the doors.

"Grandmother I…" Jon tried to say nervously, but Rhaella raised her hand, silencing him.

"Jon... I know some of you believed what we did was wrong, but I feel no regret for our actions; we are dragons, my boy... and dragons do not mate with lesser creatures," Rhaella said lustfully.

She embraced him and growled pleasurably, no doubt pleased by his odour.

"Grandmother?" Jon asked, confused by her actions.

Yet, she looked at him and smiled. "Oh, Baelon… I'm afraid it's changed between us…."

"What will happen between us now?" Jon asked, bewildered.

"What do you expect to happen?" Rhaella asked happily; she had enjoyed that night greatly; indeed, she had felt a connection with Jon since they had met so long ago.

Indeed, She found him bothersome during the first years of knowing him; after all, forcing her and her remaining family to follow him on a wild goose chase was rather rude, but when she found out that he was her grandson... it was as if the spirit of the Valyrian gods mastered her begging her to claim Jon as her own yet a marriage such as this was rather queer even among Valyrians.

The last marriage between Valyrians of such close relations had occurred centuries before the Doom… Since then, it was considered exceptional and bordering the lines of what their ancestors called blasphemies, though the list of blasphemies to Vlayrians was small.

However, she continued her life with him and the rest of her family, learning from the Eldar and later from the Dunedain, yet the weight of Ages burdened her, and Rhaella knew she wouldn't live to see her children grow old though Jon saved them once again treating with the Lord of Arda granting them long life she felt young, strong, and vigorous again… like a maiden freshly flowered.

And that had proven a blessing and a curse courted by nobles and princes, even young knights... She had no desire to marry again; Aerys had taken it upon himself to blacken her heart and sour her on love.

But the carnal desire for her grandson… It was there though she had never thought to act upon it until that night Jon had claimed her as a conqueror does his queen; she remembered his passion, his tenderness... the seed of her grandson filling her womb.

And the sinful desire to bear his child… Rhaella knew she desired to be by her grandson's side as his lover, his confidant and gods willing, perhaps his queen... She had known since this exchange began.

"Grandma..." Jon said, eyeing her warily; she smiled before pushing him onto the bed claiming his lips in a searing kiss and clawing at his tunic, eager to free him from his garments.

"Silence Jon…" Rhaella said with a slight smile.

"I didn't think you wanted to continue..."

"Neither do I… But I have an appetite for youthful flesh, chiefly yours," Rhaella said, tearing at his tunic and peppering his chest with kisses.

"What if they discover us?" Jon asked, starting to undo the knots in Rhaella's nightgown.

"I care not, my dearest Jon. Remember my boy, we are Dragons and answer neither gods nor men; I do not plan to walk away from you… Flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood… Not even our loved ones." Rhaella said, revealing her bosom, and he pawed at them softly.

"Aye fuck it… let us be consumed by Fire and Blood…." Jon said, enjoying his grandmother's loving embrace

"At least we'll be together," Rhaella said, smiling tenderly and then Jon entered her, and thus they made love wholly consumed by their passions... She cared little if the Princesses of the Noldor desired him in their beds or even Rhaenys and the others hoped to have him.

This night Jon was hers.

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The next day…

All of Osgiliath was gathered in the centre of the City to witness the execution of the King's Men... They were to be beheaded by their own Prince for the crime of high treason, and word swiftly spread that these men were servants of the Dark Tower.

All the Council of Osgiliath and even Galadriel and Írimë protested about it, arguing that their Prince should not go to such trouble when there were executioners who could do it. However, Jon would not be denied this, settling the matter.

So he came forth clad in robes of blue, upon his brow shone the pearl of Ulmo and upon his breast was the Elfstone in that hour he appeared as one of the Mighty of the West, and fit to be the father of the kings of the Kings of Men beyond the Sea. At that moment, Jon drew Ringil from its golden scabbard, and it went up like a flame in the morning sun; many were overwhelmed or wept at the beauty of the blade, yet not all were pleased.

"I don't understand how our Prince can use the Great King's sword for such a purpose..." Lord Azrubên said unsettled, and many elves and men nodded in agreement save Sansa and Arya, who looked wholly displeased, and many knew the reason.

None had thought to rouse them when the spies were discovered, so the next day, when the identity of the spies was divulged and the executions announced, Sansa and Arya were furious with him for leaving them out... again, indeed, his cousins had spent the better part of the morning badgering him to never shut them out, and he begrudgingly agreed if only for the peace and quiet.

So there stood two wolves wholly vexed by the predicament, Sansa clad in a dress of blue silk while her sister thought to wear her leathers; many Elves and even a few dwarves approached them and offered to escort them away, but each was declined by Sansa saying. "It's the old way,"

"The Old Way?" Lady Írimë asked, curious, but she soon understood that this was not the time to ask questions.

At that moment, Jon brandished Ringil with both hands, and only those of keenest hearing could discern his words.

"In the name of Elendil King of all the Dúnedain, King of Arnor, King of Gondor, King of the North and South Kingdoms, Lord of Arnor and Gondor, and his sons Isildur and Anárion Kings of Gondor... I, Prince Jon of the Houses Targaryen and Stark... Sentance you to die; if you have any last words, say them now..." He said solemnly

Sansa and Arya, for a moment, thought that Jon was their father wielding Ice, though he stood taller and more kingly than he. But, alas, the memory of their father brought tears to their eyes despite the passing of many winters.

At that moment, all the bravery those men had shown the night before was shattered, and they began to beg for their lives, swearing that they would faithfully serve Elendil and his heirs until the end of their days.

"That end has hastened for your treachery fools!… It will be easier if you stay put. If you move, you will die anyway, but Ghost shall be a far crueller headsman than I; you had better stretch your necks, my lords…." Jon said, and he seemed to grow tall and menacing; and then brought Ringil down severing their heads in turn until the King's Men lay dead at his feet.

For a few moments, a deathly silence could be noticed throughout the City; not even the song of birds or the rushing of water was heard.

At last, He stepped down from the scaffold and ordered his men to put the traitors' heads on pikes and leave the corpses to the ravens, and they nodded. He then saw his family and councillors, who looked wholly displeased by the events.

"You are dissatisfied then?…." Jon asked vexedly.

"Yes, my Prince, I don't think this task was worthy of you, let alone using the Great King's weapon…." Lord Azrubên said, irritated.

Jon looked at him and growled, "By judgment of the Valar, this sword now belongs to me and as for my decision to execute them myself… In the North of Westeros, where the blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

And Galadriel, overcoming those feelings, silently entered the mind of her beloved to discover that her uncle Eddard Stark took Jon, his cousin Robb, who were small children, and another young man named Theon Greyjoy to witness the execution of a group of people who crossed The Wall and as Lord Eddard executed those men in the same way that her beloved Wolf had done.

"It seems some men of Westeros have honour; I would have liked to have met Lord Stark..." Galadriel thought mournfully, yet she felt that her beloved was too young to have witnessed such things; still, there was little she could do about it.

"A... Remarkable lesson, my Prince..." Lord Azrubên said, still overwhelmed.

"My uncle once told me that if you are going to take a man's life, you have a duty to him, and that is to look him in the eye and listen to his last words. If you can't stand that, my Lord Azrubên, maybe that man doesn't deserve to die," Jon said gravely, and many cheered, understanding the wisdom of Lord Stark.

"You Northerners and your honour…." Ashara grumbled.

"Your uncle was a stern man, my Wolf…." Arianne said, timid, and he nodded.

"Yes, and loving too, I thought myself a Lord of Winter when I was a boy and perhaps one day, despite my last name, I would bear the banner of Winter graciously, and when that time came, I would see Justice done as well I knew it wouldn't be pleasant, but I shouldn't look away or give up my duty. The ruler who hides behind hired executioners soon forgets what death is," Jon said, wiping the blood from Ringil's blade.

"Wise words," Lady Galadriel said with a smile.

"Thank you, my Lady... Now it seems to me that we should continue with my discovery in Emyn Arnen; I want that town completed in two years and start extracting the silver immediately..." Jon said, glimpsing the countenance of his loves brighten at the mention of the Silver Horde.

"Will you return to your forge soon, my love?..." Galadriel asked, eager to learn new things, and Jon nodded. "In a week, my Star…."

Galadriel smiled. "And will you let me go with you?"

"Yes, if you shan't cause a fuss and do not hinder me when I wish to smoke…." Jon replied, having the pleasure of finally charging Galadriel for all the times she forced him to quit smoking.

Her mood quickly soured. "Jon!!"

And so life went on much as it had done for Jon and his companions the first half century, one of peace and comfort until the Dark Lord roused his armies for the Great Battle of the Age.

-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- -----------------

Tirion upon Túna, Valinor....

On the eve of twilight, the council was called, the sun had lain down its burden, and the moon rose high, blanketing the city in a silvery glow.

The chiefest of the Noldor had gathered to hear the news of their King; indeed, it was rather rousing as Finarfin, alongside Elwë and Olwë, had been summoned to the Taniquetil by Manwë to tell of the happenings in Middle-Earth.

Shortly the Elves of many houses hurried into the council chambers, some arguing over seating, keen to sit near their relations, others quite the opposite truthfully; one might think it some great party eventually, after some hours, the last Elf had shuffled into the halls and the silvered doors were shut.

Arafinwë gazed at his numerous kin and smiled, welcoming them as honoured guests. "Kin of distant houses and friends of old, I welcome you now to my halls bearing glad tidings yet grim news also…." Arafinwë said softly.

"What happened, husband?" Eärwen asked, clasping her husband's hand.

"The elder King summoned me to his abode together with your father, his wife and my mother's uncle, the Great King Ingwë, to proclaim that the mortal who aided Kanafinwë to return to Aman...has wedded my sister Írien," Arafinwë said bitterly, and soon the hall erupted in murmurs and hushed exchanges.

Many of the Noldor knew of this Jon Snow...A mortal the Valar had called from unknown lands far to the East to be the instrument of their will in this age... it was altogether queer to the Noldor as the Valar hadn't taken such keen interest in the affairs of men since Tuor.

Findis was shocked and turned to face her brother. 'How was that possible, brother? surely our sister would not bind herself to a man, much less one of lesser blood than herself.'

'A rather strange affair, dear sister,' answered her brother wearily. 'It seems Lalwendë had fallen in love with the mortal ere they departed Tol Morwen, and they plighted their troth some years ago.'

Findis glowered and looked to her mother, whose countenance eerily matched her own; indeed, her mother gripped the silvered throne so mightily that the wood had begun to splinter; Her mother wished her and Lalwendë to wed the Vanyars to bring the two clans together, so she conveyed the idea to her husband, although her first attempts were frustrated by Curufinwë, who preferred an alliance with the Teleri. Still, Findis believed that her half-brother only wished to thwart their mother by persuading their father to bargain a betrothal between Lalwendë and Vaethalas.

Although this was no better...

Twice before had there been a union of the Eldar and the Edain; now, her silly sister had fallen into that trap…Her mortal lover would die, whether by the sword or the slow decay of time. And there will be no comfort for her. No comfort to ease the pain of his passing.

'Oh, Lalwen, my sweet and reckless sister…Did you have to give your love to a fellow of that weak and untrustworthy race? … Did you not think of us? … Mother and me…But most of all yourself….' Findis thought grimly. Alas, her sister's heart wasn't easily given.

When Vaethalas broke their betrothal, Lalwendë was heartbroken; worse still, when she returned from her long exile and discovered her beloved had married one of the maidens of King Ingwë's court. And now she had impulsively wed one of the Edain; perhaps she hoped to rouse Vaethalas jealously, surely, she couldn't desire such a union.

"I would like to meet the young man of my race who achieved that feat..." Tuor said heartily, something many of the Elves could understand, Tuor alone of Men was counted among the Eldar, immortal as other Elves; seldom had he met his kin among the men save the swarthy men who served The Great Enemy so long ago.

Idril stood by her husband and clasped his hands in hers with a loving smile, joyful that her husband might have an ally among his father's kindred, yet neither perceived her mother's ire.

"Is that all the Valar told you, uncle?" Findekáno questioned curiously, and Arafinwë gently shook his head. 'No, I'm afraid not, nephew...The Valar have given us dire news the fires of the Mountain are wakened again, and the shadow has grown in malice, and I fear the horns of war shall sound soon...'

A feeling of apprehension and bitterness ran through the entire room as they feared that another bloody war against another Dark Lord was approaching.

"Do the Valar expect us to march to the aid of the Peoples of Middle-earth again?" Indis questioned, speaking for the first time, though the bitterness of her countenance was plain for all to see; indeed, since Lalwendë's departure, her mother smiled little and seldom spoke unless in the presence of her brother and grandchildren.

Findis believed that her mother would only be pleased when Lalwendë and Ñolofinwë returned, although none among them expected her to return anytime soon.

Arafinwë looked at his mother for a moment and then spoke, "No, mother, they will not ask us to go to war; they have revealed to me that Eru has forbidden us to return to Middle-earth since the betrayal of the Numenoreans, no... The Valar trust in the strength of men to cast down the Dark Lord,"

"Have the Valar told you anything, Father?" Findaráto asked curiously.

Arafinwë looked at his son and smiled; there was a strange gleam in his eye that many glimpsed. 'The mortal who has taken my sister as his wife and helped my nephew return to us; the Valar have seen fit to reveal his lineage to me.'

"His lineage?" Asked his mother; Indis startled.

"Yes, since he now belongs to the House of Finwë by marriage…They saw fit to tell me …He, along with his companions and kin, were summoned from lands far away to the east of Arda, lands we only knew in legend and suppositions… They come from a place called Westeros." Arafinwë said gaily.

And the hall once more erupted in conversation; they had never heard of a land called Westeros...And the Elves could scarcely hide their excitement, for the love of the sea was ever in the hearts.

"So what news did the Valar share, husband?" Eärwen asked, full of curiosity, and her husband merely smiled.

"Those lands are free from the evil creatures of the Great Enemy, but their peoples have fallen far from the light of the Valar and Ilúvatar and have adopted many false gods. Four continents have remained far to the east since the changing of the world... Essos, Sothoyros, Ulthos and Westeros, the latter being the closest to Middle-earth...." Said Aranfinwë recounting everything the Valar told him and to the other Kings.

'So my sister has taken up with a savage from these outer lands….' Findis thought with disdain imagining her sister's husband as some brute.

Her brother then recounted all he had learned from the Valar, it seems Lord Ulmo, seeing how some of the men had been deceived and later enslaved by the Great Enemy, managed to persuade his brothers and sisters to take those tribes who had not fallen under the Shadow to those faraway lands where they might live in peace, and this worked for a time. Until those men, the enemy had befouled, learned the art of sailing and reached those far shores, enslaving them and spreading the evil of the Great Enemy.

It seems the Valar had created a barrier around Middle-earth and Aman to prevent any evil creature created by Melkor from reaching those lands, although this meant the seasons of those lands lasted many years rather than months.

All the Noldor listened in fascination; they had never imagined that Arda was such a vast world... Although that raised added questions, why have the Valar involved themselves so intently in the affairs of Middle-Earth, and would they wish to govern the outer lands as well?

"What do the Valar expect of those men who have long turned away from the light of Valinor?" Itarillë asked in a softly.

Arafinwë smiled. 'The Valar believe this Jon snow to be valiant of the Edain of old perhaps they believe these Westerosi shall learn from him and return to the Light of Valinor though they said no more on the matter, and I hadn't thought to press the issue...'

"They expect much from those Atani…." Findekáno said before reaching into his tunic and pulling out a long-stemmed silver pipe Findis glared at him, but he cared little and struck a match, and the hall was soon filled with smoke rings.

"Yes, and for this reason, they were provided mighty gifts, Tarambolaika, one of the Rings of Power forged by Telperinquar and my brother's sword, Ringil," Arafinwë said in a whisper; soon, the hall was filled with a cacophony of voices.

And Findis went white the Valar had given a mortal Ringil? The weapon of the High King was in the hands of an Atani.

"It is splendid news that they have rescued my old axe..." Tuor said, heartily pleased that his old axe would once more hew the necks of Orcs rather than rust at the bottom of the sea.

Arafinwë smiled at his friend "Verily Tuor... But that's not all; Lord Ulmo gave my sister's husband a conch that may be used to summon him should Jon require his aid,"

They all looked at Tuor, who was rather speechless… Of mortal men, he alone had spoken to the Valar yet; he wasn't so blessed to have the Lord of Waters as an advisor.

"That man who has married my sister, Jon Snow...Although that is not the name of his birth...And the Valar did not believe it reasonable to divulge it to us...But through many lives of men, he is kin to us harbouring the blood of the Three Peoples of the Noldor and the Three Houses of the Edain, as well as that of Melian, while fathers kin were among those who rode dragons as mounts," Arafinwë said solemnly.

Immediately Findaráto, Tuor, Findekáno and Angaráto rose from their chairs, and it was Findaráto who spoke first, 'How can men have such power?' Demanded Findaráto incredulously lamenting the battles of the Dagor Bragollach and the Nirmand Arnoediad.

Woe untold would be undone had they possessed the might to tame the dragons of the Great Enemy.

"Are you sure, my son?" Indis asked, astonished to learn that her daughter's husband was her descendant and possessed great power, a power unknown to them.

"Yes, mother, Lord Ulmo, spoke honestly; indeed, it is for the grace of the One Above All that Jon shall endure as long as Elros himself," Arafinwë said with an impenetrable countenance, furthering their interest in the young man and his companions.

"It seems that there is power and nobility in that young mortal..." Findaráto said after a moment.

"Perhaps the children that my sister and her husband will have... They will inherit that ancient and unknown magic," Arafinwë said.

Findis, for her part, decided to remain silent for the rest of the meeting, listening carefully to her brother's words...She had little love for men since the betrayal of the Numenoreans, but her heart told her there was much more to this tale than her brother let on.

'Perhaps when I have to talk to my nephew about that mortal, and if the Valar allow it, I can ask him to tell me about him now that he has married my sister…I feel that he has won the respect of my people but their ire also,' Findis thought cheerily.

Findis accepted men were brave but fragile and easily befouled and living for a short time... No, that man, no matter who he was or what his deeds were... He would never set foot in the Blessed Kingdom.

"Only one thing is missing," Arafinwë said suddenly.

"What is it, husband?" Eärwen asked, taking his hands.

"My love, our daughter…She plans to marry again…Celeborn invoked my father's decree; he released her from their marriage," Arafinwë said in dismay as the entire room fell silent and shocked at the news.

 Eärwen turned white in shock; Celeborn had died a little over half a century ago in battle, a disgrace by all accounts, as his kindness, prudence, and wisdom were to her liking, as she happily welcomed him into their family.

If Celeborn summoned that statute, he would spend eternity in the Rooms of Command.

Yet it seemed that Artanis healed quickly, far too swiftly if Eärwen was asked though none had... Well, it seems another elf had captured her daughter's heart.

"Who won my sister's heart?" Findaráto asked, full of curiosity.

"The same who wed your aunt Jon Snow…." Arafinwë said bitterly, clenching his fists on his throne as the entire room held its breath.