(For those who have already read this before, I have started a rewrite for this series. This is the news release of chapter 1.)
Jon Snow (293 A.C. Second Moon)
Winterfell – Jon's chambers.
Blackness was all that he saw when he woke, and around him, he felt mist. Something that felt unnatural, yet somehow comfortable. "Hello," he said against the blackness.
"The child of Ice and Fire, of Fire and Blood, of Winter is Coming. Welcome. I waited for you for some time, with the help of my fellows. But this isn't their domain. A pact long ago made has been reforged, one I assured would remain. The others forgot that, and now they are gone, but I remain," something said to him. What was odd was that he heard it in his head.
"Smart boy," the voice said.
"Who are you, and what am I doing here?" he cried out.
"I can't tell you yet, as one must discover some paths on one's own, if not for a little guidance. You have been too long in the dark, Aenar Targaryen, but your eyes must be opened to be able to reforge and protect the world," the voice said.
What! "I don't know what you are saying, but my name is Jon Snow. Son of Eddard Stark," he stated.
"No, child, your name is Aenar. Your parents named you well, after the man who listened to his daughter and saved his family. That good little Daenys. Daenys the Dreamer, they call her now, if I'm correct," the voice questioned.
"Yes, they called her Daenys, and once more, my name isn't Aenar. It's Jon," he growled out. He almost heard the voice sigh.
"Child, your name is Aenar Targaryen, the Song of Ice and Fire, rightful head of House Targaryen, and first once more of a bloodline forgotten since ages past. One that has brought horror and greatness into the world."
"I can tell you, whatever you are, my father didn't lay with a Targaryen," he stated defiantly.
"Child, please tell me, who do you think your mother is?" the voice replied. Jon's heart paused for a second.
"I forgot, your supposed father didn't tell you, did he?" The voice said almost mockingly.
"Well, boy, if you want to know, go to your mother when you wake up. You will find her made of stone, where she is the only one among men. Your siblings will be waiting for you, so those damn Starks can stop speaking to you about not belonging there," the voice revealed, and everything faded to pitch blackness.
He woke up, covered in sweat, realizing it was still late in the night. "What was that? That couldn't have been real, and yet it felt so real. Could it be, though?" He had no idea. "Yet it, or whatever it was, spoke of his damn dreams of the crypt. Something he never told anyone before. What did it mean to find my mother made of stone? Alone among men?" he muttered to himself. He rose, clothed himself, and went toward the crypt. Make sure the guards didn't see him; he didn't want to explain why he was there so late into the night.
As he arrived, he sighed as he pressed his hand against the door. It was the only place he could find an answer, if the dream was to be believed.
As he walked through the pass above the arch, a thought crossed his mind. What if his mother had contracted greyscale and turned into a Stoneman? Would that explain why his father never spoke of her?
As he entered the crypts, he remembered his dreams of the crypts, always telling him he wasn't welcome. That he didn't belong here. He always thought it was because he was a Snow and not a Stark. Yet was it because his father lied to him all his life? That he was a Targaryen? But how was that even possible? Yet something tugged at him that told him he already knew, if he just dared to look deep enough. He swallowed hard and went down the steps.
Soon, he reached the floor where the newest statues stood. Then he walked on to where his father had taken him on occasion to pay respect to their departed kin. Then he stood and looked toward the statues, all crafted from stone, all holding a blade. Even Lyanna.
Bang, the realization hit like a hammer, and he fell to his knees. A pained "No" escaped his lips.
His hands trembled slightly as he rose. "You will find her made of stone, alone among men," he murmured softly, looking at the statue with hollow eyes.
"Am I a child born of rape?" he asked, half-croaking out the words. Yet the voice, or whatever entity it was, told him his name was Aenar Targaryen, not Sand or Waters. Was everything he was told about the Rebellion even true? What happened?
He looked at the statue. "Did you marry him, mother? Why did you do that?" he questioned the statue, desperately seeking answers.
"Little brother has awoken from his sleep," two voices said in unison, half-giggling.
"Aenar, come find us, little brother," the voices beckoned.
As he listened to the voices, he realized they were coming from behind the statue of his mother. The thought felt foreign, but all his life, he had wondered who his mother was. And now he knew, Lyanna Stark was his mother, and Rhaegar his father. Either his mother was forced into a marriage or, he hoped, she went willingly with the Crown Prince. Perhaps they even loved each other. All the answers he sought, he hoped to find behind that statue. His father, or rather, his uncle, had some explaining to do.
He approached the statue and discovered another stone slab behind it, engraved with a winter rose. "A winter rose, the one Rhaegar Targaryen crowned Lyanna Stark Queen of Love and Beauty over his wife Elia Martell," he said, as he moved the stone. As the voices became clearer, he realized they were emanating from the inside.
Inside the hidden compartment lay a large chest that he couldn't lift, so he opened it to reveal four oval-shaped objects, all dragon eggs. A gasp escaped his lips at the sight of them. Each egg displayed different colors and patterns, emanating warmth as he touched them. Along the length of the statue lay a long object: a bastard sword with black Valyrian steel, and a handle adorned with ornate dragon designs and a red ruby as its pommel. Jon recognized it as the ancestral greatsword of House Targaryen, Blackfyre. How did this all come here? Did his father-uncle bring it from the Tower of Joy?
Then his eyes went to the eggs, and it was awe-inspiring. His eyes gazed greedily at the colors and details of the eggs. One egg boasted a fiery red hue with stark black stripes, while another shimmered with shades of orange and red-yellow. The third egg displayed regal purple tones, intertwined with silver and white streaks, and the fourth exhibited a captivating blend of green, brown, and copper.
It must all be true. Why else would everything be hidden here, behind Lyanna's statue? he thought, feeling a sense of wonder. The last chest in the compartment was smaller and not as heavy, but there was something inside that made it feel weighty. Jon lifted it out and opened it.
Inside, he found letters, some had names attached for who they were intended, a scroll, and an iron-looking crown adorned with rubies. The crown, by its design, patterns dragon scales with red rubies, made from Valyrian steel. The crown of Aegon the Conqueror himself, he thought in awe, realizing he had discovered two legendary artifacts, the answers he had longed for. Memories of his childhood dreams and fantasies flooded his mind, being Aemon the Dragonknight or the Conqueror himself, riding a dragon as he climbed the weirwood trees in the godswood.
"Wake me up," a loud grumble in his head interrupted his thoughts, and it felt as if all of Winterfell shook.
"What was that?" he exclaimed as the shaking ceased.
"Fire and blood," the whispers in his head spoke aloud. "Black as coal, always alone like the white wolf. Find him, wake him, and wake us from stone."
Well, I can't stay. I'll go and bring this to my room. I don't have servants who clean it anyway, thanks to Lady Stark, who was his aunt by marriage. Bloody fish, pious and self-righteous, all the things she said about me being a bastard, and that we are wanton creatures, all fairy dust. All the hatred she boils up against me without cause. I never did ask to be born. Even if I were a bastard, I'm not the one who lay with another woman. Damn the fish for her self-righteousness, he thought angrily.
It took him four trips in silence to bring everything to his chambers. He put the chest with eggs in the back of the room, and the greatsword under his bed. He wasn't sure if he should tell his siblings, now cousins, what he found out. The secret could destroy them all, as he then remembered what Tywin Lannister had done. His siblings were butchered, and the mother of his siblings was raped and cut in half by the Mountain and Amory Lorch. Robert Baratheon, according to the tales, had only said, "I see only dragonspawn." That thought made him decide against telling them.
He opened the chest with the crown inside it. There were scrolls and letters, some opened with broken wax seals and others unbroken. Two were meant for him, and two others for Doran and Oberyn. Why they would be addressed to them, he didn't know.
He opened the letter from Lyanna, his mother. He was more than sure now. The thought was saddening, she was gone, yet some form of resurgence, instead of thinking that his mother didn't want him. As he looked at the letter, his hand slightly trembled.
My dearest boy, my little pup, my little Aenar,
If you are reading this, I'm no longer here. I'm writing this so you know the truth. I'm your mother, Lyanna Targaryen, wife and beloved of the crown prince Rhaegar Targaryen. We married under the heart tree on the Eye of the Gods and in a sept in Dorne with the High Septon present. Elia knew and welcomed me into their family, and she would have accepted you if she were still here. She would be your mother, too. There is more about this in the letters to her family. Give them to them, if you can. It will give them some closure, hopefully.
I'm sorry I wasn't there to guide, care for, and love you as every mother should. Know that I love you, now and always. Nothing will ever change that, my beloved son. Your father is gone. I know he loved you, too, and was so proud of you. He always spoke of two paths you would walk. He knew you were destined to bring the world into a better place. To be the Song of Ice and Fire, as he called it. Additionally, he mentioned that a dragon has three heads. He thought you would be a girl, but a mother knows.
Go and build your life, becoming what you choose to be. But now you can do anything you set your mind to, my child. Be our son, that is all you ever needed to be for us.
Your loving mother, Princess Lyanna of House Targaryen.
He cried then, and laid the letter down, putting it back into the trunk. He sighed and lay down his head, thinking of the possibilities.
Bloodraven (293 A.C. Second Moon)
That same night, somewhere beyond the Wall
Bloodraven gasped as a sudden force tore open his third eye in a way he had never felt before. In an instant, he was cast into darkness.
"What is this?" he murmured. "This is not the sight."
"Indeed, it is not, Brynden Rivers," a voice answered from the void.
"How are you speaking to me? This should be impossible. Even I can only touch others through dreams, or whisper on the wind through a weirwood," Brynden said warily. Whoever, or whatever, had drawn him here knew his true name.
"Well, normally I would not be able to. But a shared champion of my own and the gods you serve has awakened, and it is time we guide him along a proper path. I can reveal certain things, give warnings when things arrive, and something more that belongs to the future. You and another will be able to guide him and teach him. He is young, but he has the potential to rise to greatness and beat back the coming storm," the voice explained.
"Tell me, you must have been busy; you speak of a champion to face the cold and the dark that are rising in the North," the voice asked. Brynden squinted his eyes. "Aegon's song, the song of ice and fire, and the tale that the dragon has three heads?" he asked.
"Indeed, Lord Brynden," the voice stated, pleased.
"Truly, the one meant to fight the darkness is here. I have searched and seen possibilities for the candidate. One is in the East, Daenerys Targaryen. The other is a boy Eddard Stark claims as his bastard, yet he is the trueborn son of Lyanna Stark and my distant nephew, Rhaegar Targaryen," he noted.
"Good. You know enough. As for who it is, the boy," the voice replied.
Brynden smiled, and he felt a slight hint of happiness, something he did not feel often.
"What would you have me do?" he asked.
"I can guide the child through part of his journey, yet for now, my powers are limited. With the help of loyal men, you can prepare the child to rule and face the darkness." The voice stated.
"Very well, and who are these loyal men?" he asked.
"Come now, Lord Brynden, you know of whom I speak," the voice stated.
"Well, Lord Reed and Ser Arthur Dayne. Both wait to support their king, yet both still wait for word from Lord Stark, as they swore vows of secrecy. He is a man traumatized by loss and clinging to honor, so he will not support his nephew without the right motivation," Brynden replied.
"That is where you come in. I have two tasks. One, recruit Lord Reed. Second, send dreams of what happened to Elia and her children to Lord Stark," the voice replied. It sounded weaker, and Brynden felt the restraints that had bound it before begin to weaken.
"Hmm. I shall try. His warging and his northern blood are not well awakened, so I am not sure how successful I can be. The man has taken many of Jon Arryn's words to heart; on occasion, he acts more like Arryn than a Stark," he nodded.
"As for Lord Reed, show him how Aenar is being treated, and he should travel to Winterfell in response and help convince Lord Stark to let Aenar go to the Neck, where he can learn without the burden of a bastard hanging over his head. It would be suspicious if Aenar were taught in Winterfell; the damn Tully woman is far too proud," the voice explained.
"It shall be done," he replied.
"We will speak again, Lord Brynden," the voice stated, and soon enough, he opened his eyes and was back in the cave he had entered many years ago. The children looked at him with their knowing eyes.
"It seems the champion to fight the darkness is reborn, and as we suspected, he is one of the last Targaryens. He lives in Winterfell under the name Jon Snow, but his true name is Aenar Targaryen, and it seems the Old Gods are not the only ones who have a stake in this," he stated.
"What will you do now?" Leaf asked.
"I will make sure Howland Reed takes care of Aenar, and I will try to wake Lord Stark," he replied.
"Leaf, I wish you to do something. Bring my blade to my kin. Teach them of the world and of the Old Gods. If you mentor him, he will be a powerful greenseer, or a dreamer, like his cousin, who perhaps has even more potential, and who can sit at Aenar's side if the gods will it so," he nodded.
"I will, Lord Raven," Leaf stated.
Afterward, he willed himself back into the trees, seeking the floating weirwood of Greywater Watch. He waited for a time until the Lord of the Neck arrived; then there he was. The Crannogman was small, but Brynden knew Lord Howland Reed was a clever man and knew more than he let on.
"Lord Reed," he whispered through the woods. It came out like whispers, as if the wind were talking.
"What was that?" Lord Reed looked around, his eyes widening with confusion.
"A friend, hoping for the same outcome," he replied.
"Who are you, or what are you?" Howland asked, frowning.
"I am Lord Brynden Rivers, or as the world knows me, Bloodraven. I am a servant of the Old Gods, just like you," he replied.
"How are you doing this?" Howland asked. "You are supposed to be dead."
"A consequence of fusing with a weirwood. I am currently beyond the Wall until I truly die," he replied.
"You are talking from beyond the Wall?" Howland asked, surprised, with awe in his voice.
"I am, and I need your help to prepare the champion for the coming battle," he replied. The carnogmen frowned. "A curtained dragon raised as a wolf?"
"Aenar? Lyanna's boy?" Howland asked hopefully.
"Indeed," he replied. Yet Howland's face sobered. "I wish I could help the lad, but I cannot. I swore a vow not to tell the boy the truth."
"He knows his truth already. Something, I do not even know what, has spoken to him. Awakened him, so to speak," he explained, and he truly wondered what had asked him to do this; something more powerful than he was, which made him uneasy.
"Truly? That changes things. My companion will be amazed by that development," Howland smiled.
"Indeed, but Aenar cannot find his true potential in Winterfell. A bastard cannot outperform his trueborn sibling; it has hampered him quite a lot," Brynden replied. He knew what Aenar had gone through; he knew more of him than Daenerys, whose movements he could rarely track because of the lack of weirwoods. The South still had ancient stumps across the land that allowed him to connect to his ravens and see glimpses, yet it was not as strong as when he could feel a living weirwood nearby.
"Touch the weirwood, and I will show you a vision of the boy's treatment," he instructed.
He showed Aenar sparring with the Greyjoy hostage, and he was winning. By the looks of it, Aenar was perhaps seven namedays old. Soon enough, the Greyjoy overextended his attack, and Aenar, with a swift move, disarmed him.
Not much later, he looked on in regret as Lady Fish slapped the boy. "Bastards are not supposed to best their betters."
"But," Aenar trembled, holding his cheek.
"No buts. I told you before, when you beat Robb. No winning against your betters, or no food. Remember what happened during the Greyjoy Rebellion."
Aenar nodded, tears forming in his eyes.
"Good. Now get out of my sight," Lady Fish said venomously.
Soon, he watched once more as the boy took comfort in the godswood, something the boy had done many times before. "It is not my fault. I am just doing my best. I do my best, yet it is never enough."
"I just want to be brave and honor my family; that is all. Yet now I cannot even beat Theon," the boy lamented. "At least you understand," he said, looking at the heart tree. "I can at least find some peace here, even if I cannot outside."
After that, the boy pulled up a blanket and fell asleep against the heart tree.
"Damn, Ned," Howland growled. "I knew I should have taken the boy with me."
"So, will you go, Lord Reed? One more thing. I have seen things of great note, forgotten by the Night's Watch as well as the North. Something is hidden in the Nightfort, and I have a feeling that knowledge lost over time is there, yet my sight is blocked, so I can't be sure. Perhaps it is useful to Aenar and a cousin of his. Ask for permission to have Benjen Stark investigate the Nightfort, and then you buy what is found. The Night's Watch will accept, as they are desperate for support," he replied.
"Very well. As for the coin, I will use the account Rhaegar left in Aenar's keeping. Arthur went there a year after the events at the Tower of Joy, so Aenar was the official holder of the accounts of the Crown Prince, the Targaryens, and his own allowance that Rhaegar left to all his children," Howland added. He had not known that. But he had seen Arthur speaking with the Iron Bank. Braavos was one of the few places in Essos that had a weirwood, as many gods were worshiped in Braavos.
"Good, then we can start. When the boy is here, I shall also begin to train him. But those are details for another time. Let us begin," he stated.
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