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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning:
Major Character Death
Category:
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Fandoms:
A Song of Ice and Fire & Related FandomsHouse of the Dragon (TV)
Relationships:
Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra TargaryenAlicent Hightower/Viserys I TargaryenJon Snow/Arya Stark
Characters:
Arya StarkJon SnowDaemon TargaryenRhaenyra TargaryenViserys I TargaryenAlicent HightowerOtto HightowerAegon II TargaryenHelaena TargaryenRhaenys Targaryen VelaryonCorlys "The Sea Snake" VelaryonLaena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys)Laenor VelaryonBran StarkCriston ColeAemond "One-Eye" TargaryenRickon Stark (Father of Cregan)Cregan StarkHarwin StrongLarys StrongArchmaester Vaegon Targaryen
Additional Tags:
Time TravelDaenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad QueenBut she is deadactually most everyone except Arya and Jon are deadBackground bran starkDaemon Targaryen is WhippedViserys I Targaryen Being an IdiotBut He Gets BetterMaybe - FreeformWarning: Otto HightowerManipulative Alicent HightowerPolitical Rhaenyrawell she's getting thereDaemon and Arya brotpeventuallyHouse Manderly (A Song of Ice and Fire)Lady Stoneheart - FreeformMinor Character Deathminor child abuseImplied Sexual Contentbrief depictions of torture
Language:
English
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Published:2023-06-28Updated:2026-05-29Words:443,023Chapters:40/?Comments:1,071Kudos:1,982Bookmarks:1,390Hits:150,558
(Restricted) A New Dawn
SereneDreaming
Chapter 3: Viserys I - Jon I
Summary:
Viserys has three uncomfortable conversations and one enlightening conversation. Jon speaks to Bran in a dream and has his first conversation in his new surroundings.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Viserys
Viserys felt as though he had aged a hundred years in a single night. Sleep had evaded him entirely. The young woman had spoken of the Long Night, the endless winter King Aegon had inscribed upon his dagger. Viserys wanted to believe that she was lying, that she did not truly mean what she said. It would be easier to think she had deluded herself, that her words were false. But Viserys remembered the agony in her eyes, the tremor in her words. This girl had lived through the Seven Hells. Perhaps her words had merit. Perhaps…
A knock at his solar door broke his musings. Ser Westerling's voice rang out. "Pardon your grace, the Queen and Prince Aegon are requesting your presence. Shall I send her away?" He had half a mind to do just that but decided against it.
"Please send her in Ser." He responded, and his chamber door opened moments later. In strutted his young wife, along with his eldest living son. Alicen wore a dress of fine black silk, her beloved seven-pointed star pendant displayed proudly against the dark fabric. When Aegon spotted him, his face trembled and he began to wail. Alicent attempted to shush him, but Viserys simply laughed.
"Oh my dear boy, I cannot be that hideous to look upon?" He questioned teasingly, and in response Aegon only cried harder. He fussed about wildly in his mothers arms until she relented and put him down. He immediately sprinted to the door.
"Aegon, return to my side this instant and greet your lord father properly! This is unseemly behavior for a prince!" He did not heed her commands, and she began walking towards him.
"Leave him be my love. The boy is three, he will learn his manners as he grows. Gods know Daemon and I were right terrors to our parents and grandparents, but we grew more mature with time. Well, at least I did." Alicent stopped and returned to his side. "Now, as much as I enjoy seeing my son and lovely wife, what prompted this visit?" She took a seat beside him and grabbed his hand, the one with all his fingers still attached. She did not care to see or feel the other.
"Aegon was asking his nursemaid to see you, my lord." Viserys glanced over to his still-wailing son. That was not the demeanor of a boy who was clamoring to see his father. He could remember a similar situation nearly fifteen years past, with another silver-haired babe wanting to see him. He could still see the door opening and Rhaenyra shyly peeking inside before meeting his eyes and vaulting towards him, leaping into his arms.
Viserys realized he had not responded to Alicent's most recent comment. He met her eyes again. "Forgive me my dear, could you please repeat that?" Her hand stayed steady in his own, but upon his request for her repetition he saw her eye twitch ever so briefly.
"At once, my love. I should like to bring Aegon to the next session of the court." This struck Viserys as odd. Court could go for hours, and if Aegon could not stand to be his presence for longer than a few seconds without screaming, he doubted the boy could wait patiently for half a day.
"My dear, court would not be a pleasant place for him. He would be bored senseless, and could make a fuss, not unlike what he is doing now." Although he was but a boy of three, Aegon appeared to already have the lungs of a full-grown man. By the gods, that boy could cry.
"But Rhaenyra attends every court session-" she began but he cut her off.
"Rhaenyra is seventeen and my heir. She must see how the court sessions play out and must be seen by the people. They must know their future ruler." Again, her eye twitched briefly.
"Should they not see the prince, my love?" She inquired softly.
"Aegon is a prince my love, not the prince. Just as my brother is but a prince, and our sweet babe Aemond is a prince." Alicent removed her hand from his and stood.
"Very well then your grace, I shall not bother you with the presence of a prince and his mother." She picked up Aegon, briefly curtsied, and left his rooms. Viserys sighed and leaned back further in his chair. Alicent would be cross with him for a day or two, but she would come around eventually. Aegon was a prince, but Rhaenyra was the heir. Viserys had wavered only once in his decision on the succession but had stayed resolute ever since. He loved his children with Alicent, but their son would never ascend the Iron Throne.
"Skoros nykeā lovely ābrazȳrys ao emagon, lēkia (What a lovely wife you have, brother)" came Daemon's voice from behind him. Viserys jumped out of his chair and spun around. A portion of the wall that Daemon had covered with a table the night before had disappeared, revealing a dark corridor. Daemon appeared from the darkness, smirking as only a rogue like him could. He reached his hand back to the corridor and Rhaenyra appeared as well. She blushed as Daemon pulled her hand to his lips briefly. Viserys could not stop himself from huffing aloud. Rhaenyra noticed her father and blushed even deeper before moving to greet him.
Despite their…untoward behavior before, Viserys was truly relieved to be among his Targaryen kin. The previous day's events had shaken him, but he felt stronger with his brother and daughter by his side.
"Gōntan ao rȳbagon naejot tolvȳn īlon vestragon? (Did you listen to everything we said?)" Viserys questioned, and Daemon simply smirked again. Viserys sighed. "Daoriot (no matter). Skoro syt ry bisa secrecy? (Why all this secrecy?)" He questioned them again.
"Rhaenyra se nyke istan naejot jikagon kipagon hēnkirī yn ziry jeldan naejot rytsuragon ao ēlī. īlon istan va īlva ñuhoso yn ūndan aōha byka ābrazȳrys se zȳhon half-breed rȳ aōha nerny, sīr nyke arrigon zȳhon nykeā ruarilaksa path naejot aōha rooms, skore jāhor sagon zȳhon isse se māzīlare. (Rhaenyra and I were to go riding together, but she wanted to greet you first. We were on our way but say your little wife and her half-breed at your door, so I showed her a secret path to your rooms, which will be hers in the future.)" Viserys became incensed at Daemon's reference to his son.
"Aegon iksos issa tresy, aōha lēkianna! Gaomagon daor ȳdrago hen zirȳla isse bona ñuhoso (Aegon is my son, your nephew! Do not speak of him that way)" Daemon scoffed.
"Se vasīr ziry iksos nykeēdrosa half-andali. Sepār, nykeā half-breed (And yet his is still half-Andal, thus a half-breed)" Viserys thundered over to his brother with every intent to strike him but his daughter's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Keligon ao lanta! Kepa, emagon ao ryptan mirros bē īlva zentys? (Enough you two! Father, have you heard anything about our guests?" She questioned. He shook his head. She clucked her tongue and turned to Daemon. "Nyke ivestretan ao ziry would daor lua mirros hen īlva. Sir, ivestragī īlva kipagon (I told you he would not keep anything from us. Now, let us ride)" Viserys could not help but feel affronted that Daemon believed that he would keep anything from them. But did you not keep your visits from Alicent a secret from your own daughter? Did you not keep from Daemon the Song despite him being your unofficial heir? Viserys sighed and smiled at his daughter, pointedly ignoring his brother.
"Emagon nykeā wonderful flight issa jorrāelagon. (Have an excellent flight my dear)" He spoke, and in response she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He smiled, feeling refreshed from her affection. It had been a long time since his daughter had been so openly affectionate with him.
Daemon mockingly bowed, and the two of them disappeared through the passageway, closing it behind them. His room was silent once more. He sagged into his chair. What a morning, and the sun had not even reached its apex. His eyes grew heavy, and he could feel himself drifting off, off and away…
A knock sounded on the door, rousing him from his unintended slumber. "Maester Mellos your grace, he brings news about the two…guests in his quarters." Ser Westerling sounded out.
Viserys straightened from his sleeping slouch and assumed what he hoped was a more regal-looking posture. "Send him in at once," Viserys commanded. The doors opened and the Maester hobbled in.
"What news, Mellos? Has the woman reawakened?" He questioned, but Mellos shook his head.
"Apologies your grace, but the woman has not regained consciousness and developed a fever in the night." Viserys felt a stone form in the pit of his stomach. Should the fever persist and the woman perish, they could lose all knowledge of the Long Night. He clenched his hands around the arms of his chair. "Fortunately, the fever has begun to go down. She should recover within a day or two." Viserys felt all the tension seep out of his body. Were he not in Mellos' presence he likely would have sighed in relief.
"I came because the man has awoken and is asking to speak to the King. When I told him he would not be able to do so he leapt from his cot and began to run to the door. Thankfully, Ser Rickard was able to stop him before he left my chambers. He is now under watch by both Ser Arryk and Ser Rickard. I shall be sending him to the cells."
This struck Viserys as odd. "On whose command? The Crown Princess ordered they be healed. Surely the man is not in full form merely a day after his…unusual arrival?" Viserys questioned, and Mellos shifted uncomfortably.
"It was under the advisement of Lord Otto, your grace" he admitted. Viserys stood and walked towards Mellos.
"Neither…guest shall be moved unless the order comes directly from my own lips, or that of my heir's." Viserys commanded. Mellos nodded his head. "Is the man still awake?" He asked, and Mellos nodded. "Come then, let us meet our mystery guest."
Viserys sped through the corridors, with Sers Westerling and Erryk Cargyll keeping up close behind. Viserys had all but abandoned Mellos who claimed a pain in his side. Viserys barely acknowledged his statement. He had more important tasks. Upon reaching Mellos' chamber he dismissed Ser Arryk who had been standing guard outside and opened the door.
"Ser Rickard, remove your sword from his neck this instant!" Viserys thundered, and Ser Rickard sheathed his blade. "Ser Westerling, please escort your brother back to your quarters. It appears he needs to be reminded how we treat our guests." Ser Westerling nodded and gestured his head. Ser Rickard followed behind. "Ser Erryk," the King called, "I do not want anyone coming through this door. Not my wife, not Ser Otto, no one, save for my brother or daughter. Do you understand?" Ser Erryk responded affirmatively. Ser Erryk bowed briefly and pulled the door shut behind him. Viserys turned and got his first full view of the man.
His resemblance to the woman, Arya, was striking. She had mentioned they were siblings. Both had the long face of the Starks. His eyes were nearly the exact same shade of steel grey as his sister's. Viserys pulled up a chair to sit across from him.
"Udrirzi Valyrio ȳdrā? (Do you speak Valyrian)" He questioned, and the man simply gave him a confused look. "I asked, 'do you speak Valyrian?' Your face answered for you. It seems you do not share the same linguistic talent as your sister." At this, his face became even more confused. "You did not know your sister speaks our language?"
The man sighed. "Until very recently, I had not seen my little sister in almost ten years. We had been separated by war, and war brought us back together again. There is much we likely don't know about each other anymore." He looked over at his still sleeping sister and smiled briefly. "One day, not long after we reunited, she confessed she was worried I wouldn't recognize her anymore. I laughed and hugged her close. How could I not? She and I were the only ones with the Stark look besides Lord Stark. I would know her anywhere, from North of the Wall to the southern tip of Dorne."
Viserys could hear the love he had for his sister in each word, but one choice struck him as odd. "Why do you refer to him as Lord Stark?" he questioned, and the man sighed heavily again.
"I was not a trueborn son of Lord Stark. I was a bastard. For most of my life, I believed I was his bastard, Jon Snow. Who else's bastard could I be, with my look?" Viserys was intrigued. The man continued on. "It was not until a few months ago I learned I was a bastard, but not of Lord Stark. I was his sister's son. My true father…my true father already had a wife. I have been told he took my mother as his second wife, but in my heart I dare not to believe it. Every bastard dreams of being trueborn, but I did not want it to be like this. Even further, polygamy had been outlawed for over two centuries."
Another stone began to form in the King's stomach. Two wives, that has not been done since Maegor's time… he thought. It cannot be, he cannot be…Viserys's thoughts trailed off again. "Tell me lad, who was your father?" He questioned, and the man, Jon, met his eyes.
"My mother was Lyanna Stark. My father was Rhaegar Targaryen, Crown Prince and heir to the Iron Throne."
Jon
He came to on one of the battlements of Winterfell. Snowflakes fell heavily, and childish laughter filled the air. He looked down and saw several ghosts playing in the courtyard. Robb, no more than ten, lobbing a snowball at a screaming but smiling Sansa, while a baby Bran and young Arya peaked over their snow barrier. He saw his younger self land a direct hit in Robb's face while Theon Greyjoy laughed at Robb's reddening face and neck. Arya and Bran cheered for his victory. He remembered this day clearly.
"On the coldest, dreariest days North of the Wall I would think back to this day." Bran's voice rang out behind him. He turned to find an of-age Bran, as he had just seen him the day before, walking towards him. "We had no worries or cares beyond being late for supper or ripping our clothes. We had no idea of the Wars to come, of the Darkness that would soon grace our doors." Bran smiled wistfully. "The war took so much, but it cannot take our memories. The good nor the bad."
Bran stood at his side, and Jon realized they were nearly of a height now. His auburn hair shone in the summer sun, and he breathed out deeply before speaking again. "You have questions brother, go ahead and ask them."
"Is Arya alright? Where are we? What did you do to us?" Bran chucked at his questions.
"I am unsurprised your first question relates to Arya. To answer your questions, yes she is alright. I spoke with her earlier. She dreamed of the Godswood, so that is where I was able to reach her. You dreamed of the battlements, of this specific memory, so here we are. The final question is a bit more complex."
"Daenerys was dead, you saw with your own eyes." Jon felt a pang in his heart at his statement. "Without Daenerys Drogon fled. Only a handful of us remained. Leaf had spoken to me of a way to send souls back in time. I had thought you would inhabit the bodies of those I believed could prevent the Dance of the Dragons. Like I told Arya, The Night King with his army of ice and death cannot win against an army of fire and life. Dragons are fire incarnate. In order to defeat him, we need more. You must ensure their survival by any means necessary."
Bran took a brief pause before speaking again. "You must reveal your heritage, but only to those of Targaryen blood. There are members of the King's court that would seek to use you against him and his Heir, Crown Princess Rhaenyra. You must not let that happen. The Crown Princess's line will bring the hero of the dawn."
"How can they possibly believe my claim? I am more likely to be thrown in the Black Cells as a heretic or a liar."
Bran smiled wryly. "Think on it for a moment. If you are still unsure, I will tell you." Jon was unsure what riddle he was trying to tell.
"And what of you, brother? Last I saw you and Brienne were the Throne Room. Were you able to escape?" He questioned, and Bran's eyes turned misty. "You and Arya should have been twins you know? She hounded me about my safety as well. She made me promise that I would attempt to escape. Luckily for her, I have been able to keep my promise so far." Jon simply stared at him. He sighed and continued to speak. "Soon after I sent you back, Brienne and I discovered we were not the only two still alive. Gendry, Ser Beric, Edric Dayne, and of all people Sandor Clegane were still among the living. It appears the Brotherhood without Banners are rather hard to kill. They were able to wrangle several horses and we were able to sneak away under cover of darkness. We are currently camped out several miles outside the city. I was able to locate a Heart Tree, which is how I am able to speak to you now."
Jon breathed out a sigh of relief. "It is good to know you are keeping your promise. We both know how Arya gets when a promise is broken." Bran laughed, and Jon felt a small pain, realizing he had not heard his brother laugh in almost ten years.
"Forget about me. Have you figured out how to prove your identity?" Bran questioned, and Jon shook his head. "Where you are, when you are, there is an abundance of a certain…creature that would prove your claim legitimate." Bran spoke, and Jon realized with rising panic what he was referring to.
"Yes dear brother, you must claim a dragon." Jon opened his mouth to protest. "We do not have time for your refusals. Our time together is running. Out. When you wake, you must speak to King Viserys or the other Targaryens only. You must convince him of your claim, and of the danger that awaits in the future. Arya has already begun to lay the groundwork." Jon gave him a puzzled look and he continued on "I gave Arya a similar message." Bran's eyes became downtrodden. "This is all I can do. For all my so-called power, I can do nothing more than speak through dreams."
"You have done more for us than anyone ever could," Jon responded, and grabbed Bran's shoulders. "You saved us, you've given us a chance to right history's wrongs. Even if you had done none of that, you have still given us so much. You are my brother Bran. I have loved you from the day you were born, just as I know you have me. That would be more than enough." A single tear rolled down Bran's cheeks.
"Goodbye my brother, may we meet again," he whispered, and Jon faded away.
He awoke to a finger prodding his stomach. His eyes sprung open and he sat up quickly, pushing the finger away. "Get your hands off me. I must speak to the King at once!" He cried.
"You shall do no such thing. Lay back down so I might finish my examination." A man wearing the grey robe of the Maesters responded.
"I demand to speak to the King. It is vital that I speak to him immediately!" Jon leapt from his bed. He quickly scanned the room and saw Arya lying on a cot to his right. She was sleeping, but otherwise appeared to be healthy. Jon saw the entrance to the chamber and made his way over, ignoring the cries to stop from the Maester behind him. He swung the door open only to find a sword in his face.
"Ser Arryk, Ser Rickard, do not let this man pass you! He is to be detained at once. Another man walked up behind, also in the garb of the Kingsguard. Jon backed inside slowly, keeping a safe distance between his head and the sword.
He sat down on the cot he had been lying on previously, and a sword was placed at his neck. He could feel the chill of the steel against his pulse.
"I shall go inform the King of his waking, and his transport to the Black Cells." The Maester instructed one the Kingsguard, either Ser Arryk or Ser Rickard. The man hobbled out followed by the Kingsguard who did not have his sword to Jon's neck, and the chamber became silent once more.
Minutes passed, and the sword did not move from his neck. The Kingsguard appeared to become bored, and attempted to speak to Jon. "Now where in the Seven Hells did you come from, eh?" Jon said nothing, but the man continued on. "Talk around the castle is you were snuck in by the Rogue Prince to sully the Princess. Wouldn't surprise me, that man would try to taint the mother, maiden and crone if he had the chance." Again, Jon said nothing. Perhaps sensing that Jon would not respond, the Kingsguard fell silent, although the blade continued to sit at his neck.
More time passed. The Kingsguard continued to keep him where he was. Jon started to believe he would be in this position all day until he heard a commotion just outside the door, which swung open. In strutted a man in a crown who could only be King Viserys I.
"Ser Rickard, remove your sword from his neck this instant!" The King commanded, and the Kingsguard, now identified as Ser Rickard, sheathed his sword. The king then turned to the two Kingsguard who had walked in behind him. "Ser Westerling, please escort your brother back to your quarters. It appears he needs to be reminded how we treat our guests." The knight identified as Ser Westerling nodded and gestured his head. Ser Rickard followed behind. "Ser Erryk," the King called, "I do not want anyone coming through this door. Not my wife, not Ser Otto, no one, save for my brother or daughter. Do you understand?" The remaining Kingsguard nodded. Ser Erryk, was that not one of the twin Kingsguard members? Jon pondered to himself.
The door behind Ser Erryk shut, and the King turned to face him. He could feel himself being assessed. The King pulled up a chair to sit across from him. "Udrirzi Valyrio ȳdrā?" He asked. Jon stared at him blankly. It sounded like High Valyrian, but he had never learned the language. Lady Stark had decreed that only her trueborn children might need to learn, and even then, Jon could not recall if any of them had actually learned anything at all beyond the basics.
"I asked, 'do you speak Valyrian?' Your face answered for you. It seems you do not share the same linguistic talent as your sister." The King spoke, and Jon felt even more confused. Here was yet another unknown to add to a list that continued to grow of his knowledge of Arya. "You did not know your sister speaks our language?" The King questioned, and Jon sighed.
"Until very recently, I had not seen my little sister in almost ten years. We had been separated by war, and war brought us back together again. There is much we likely don't know about each other anymore." He looked over at Arya and smiled briefly. "One day, not long after we reunited, she confessed she was worried I wouldn't recognize her anymore. I laughed and hugged her close. How could I not? She and I were the only ones with the Stark look besides Lord Stark. I would know her anywhere, from North of the Wall to the southernmost tip of Dorne."
"Why do you refer to him as Lord Stark?" The King inquired. Jon had not meant to speak of him in that manner, but a lifetime of calling him as such was hard to forget.
"I was not a trueborn son of Lord Stark. I was a bastard. For most of my life, I believed I was his bastard, Jon Snow. Who else's bastard could I be, with my look?" The King looked intrigued, and Jon continued on. "It was not until a few months ago I learned I was a bastard, but not of Lord Stark. I was his sister's son. My true father…my true father already had a wife. I have been told he took my mother as his second wife, but in my heart I dared not to believe it. Every bastard dreams of being trueborn, but I did not want it to be like this. Even further, polygamy has been outlawed since the days of King Maegor the Cruel."
The Kings expression became troubled. "Tell me lad, who is your father?" Jon met the King's eyes. I hope you are right about this Bran he thought to himself.
"My mother was Lyanna Stark. My father was Rhaegar Targaryen, Crown Prince and heir to the Iron Throne."
Notes:
7/15/23 - I made a small update. In Viserys's section I mentioned Aegon as his only living son. That has been changed to eldest living, as I forgot about Aemond.
DRAGON TIME FOR JON BABYYYYYY
Hey all, hope you enjoyed! I have just a few post-chapter notes.
Please note the updated relationship tag for Arya/Jon. I should have tagged it as that initially, apologies!
I saw someone comment about Arya speaking High Valyrian. In the books (ADOD I believe but could be AFFC) The Kindly Man instructs Arya to improve her High Valyrian skills after becoming fluent enough in Braavosi and the trade tongue of the docks. My head-cannon is that she speaks it well enough to get by, and begins to perfect it while spending time with Dany and Missandei.
I also saw a question about show v book cannon. This follows a mix of both, but relies more on the books. The HoBaW is an assassin's guild, but they are not beating Arya with a bow staff until she learns to hit back. Jon is more politically savvy. The true threat is the Night King and the Long Night, not that stupid shit D&D tried to pull on us. In my mix of book and show Dany did lose Viserion to the North rescuing Jon and his squad, but rather than heading south pointlessly they decided to sail north to fortify Winterfell. Jaime road North to commit himself to the cause, along with a few loyal knights. No FAegon in this story bubs. Real Aegon died in the sack of Kings Landing, and FAegon's boat sank with JonCon on board. And since this is more book based, Jon loves Arya a lot. Remember folks, Jon died because he was going to break his vows for Arya. He did not break his vows for his father or his brothers, but he was going to do so for Arya. He died thinking of her. That's some devotion huh?
I saw a comment wondering if Arya would tell Viserys all he did wrong by trusting the Hightowers. While I would love to see that too, it doesn't really make sense in-universe. Arya (and Jon) don't have play-by-play insider information about the dance. They know the most important story beats - Viserys dying, Aemond killing Luke, Daemon killing Aemond, Aegon killing Rhaenyra, the death of the dragons - but the intricacies and more complex details are not known to to kids who grew up in Winterfell almost two centuries after the events took place. So the Hightower machinations will not be quite so obvious. But that makes it interesting, no? Bran knows more of the whole picture, but his time with them is limited. I will be getting a bit more into his situation in later chapters.
If you notice any grammatical or Valyrian mistakes please let me know as this is not beta read. As always, hope you enjoy or at least don't hate it.
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