Chapter 26: A Crimson Dragon
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Grabbing it in his hands, he gasped when he felt the heat coming from it, not too much to burn, more like a pleasant warmth. Suddenly A strange voice reached his ears.
"Perzys Ānogār,"
The prince's mind races, and he wasn't even thinking. Jon jumped to his feet with the egg clutch tightly in his left hand as he gripped tightly a dagger hidden in his clothes that his father had given him.
The gleaming silver blade stares back at him as he places the egg gently on the bed. The shimmering flame pattern stared back at him as he took the dagger in his right hand instead of his left. The smooth leather handle and the lightweight dagger felt good in his hand, and with one swift motion, the blade bit the surface of his skin. Sharp bursts of burning pain filled Jon as sharp burning tendrils of pain ran up and down his left hand as he watched his pale skin turn red and blood bubbled up at the surface.
He watched the blood pool into his hand for a moment before turning back to the egg and dropping the dagger on the carpet as he quickly gripped the egg with his right-hand smear in the red side of the egg with blood.
For a moment, nothing happened, nothing but silence in the room until a heavy Crack was heard.
A baby dragon with wings of the purest crimson that shone like rubies made her way out of the egg; she had a body as red as blood and shined in the light. Her poisonous purple eyes stared back at meshing in the light like two precious gems.
Her spikes on her back were red at the base with black frosted tips, her scales were crimson-like shining jewels, and her horns were clear like crystals. She let out a furious screech; her black teeth stared back at Jon as he smiled madly at him; a wide grin formed on her face As he moved to Jon's hand.
Sniffing at the blood before nipping at the tender skin of his hand before licking up the blood. Her long coiling neck and squared redhead look head looked up to Jon. Her poisoned eyes force a sense of pride to fill his chest. With a grin, Jon spoke in a happy tone, "I think that I will call you Rhaenix, The Crimson Dragon,"
Oberyn Martell
He waited patiently by the door along with the Three Kingsguards; he couldn't help himself but walk around in circles impatiently, and Arthur telling him to wait wasn't helping; he knew Jon told him he needed to be alone; Oberyn would be lying if he said that he understood the situation Jon was in after all not everyone would be told by who they thought was their father that their biological parents were dead, one killed by a King who laughs on the death of little children, and the other bringing him to life.
"How much longer?" Oberyn finally asked, his hands going through his hair in frustration; being patient wasn't something he was known for; asking Doran, he would say Oberyn was like a little kid when he saw a jar with cookies and couldn't help himself.
"Prince Oberyn, the King ordered us that he wants to be alone, we nee-," his words died in his throat the moment they heard a loud screech from the other side; Oberyn didn't wait to have their permission.
He didn't know who opened the door first, only that he slammed the door open, a dagger in his hand ready to defend Jon; he didn't even know when he grabbed it.
Walking inside, he immediately looked around the chamber for danger, only for his eyes to be glued on a moving Red creature standing at the top of Jon's chest.
The prince had a bright smile on his face; if the others hadn't been so distracted by the creature, they would notice the dried blood across his palm, the little knife lying on the red carpet and fresh blood across the edge.
Oberyn felt his words stuck in his throat, feeling like a lump; he felt as if he was in a dream, a good one at that; he always wished to see a dragon one day.
His eyes studied every part of the crimson creature, his logical mind telling him that he was dreaming or the weird creature was just some kind of lizard, but the childlike part was telling him that he was seeing a living Dragon.
The Kingsguards weren't doing better than Oberyn; thankfully, Ser Gerold wasn't a Commander for nothing; he was the first to escape his daze; the first thing he did was to close the door behind him immediately, to muffle the sound of whatever inside; turning to face the King, he spoke in a matter that was suited for someone of his station.
"Y-Your Grace," He spoke, stepping forward; his words seemed to wake the others from whatever dream they were having.
Jon turned to look at the man who called him 'Your Grace,' his purple eyes looking at them with mild curiosity; he always knew there was more to them than simple guards.
Being called 'Your Grace' was very strange to him; he didn't feel like a King; he almost felt the same way he felt yesterday, except now, with Rhaenix close, he felt different, much different; it had been only a few minutes since she was born. Yet, Jon felt as if he had known her for seven years now; he felt as if a fire had kindled in his chest, a part that had been sleeping now was awake.
Jon looked at Rhaenix; a simple look was enough for her to understand him, crawling across his chest, her sharp claws moving carefully not to harm his skin through his thin shirt.
She stood at the top of his shoulders, her cold violet eyes looking back at the guards; spreading her wings, she left out a loud cry. The Song of Dragons was Heard in the World Again. Her figure was only a bit bigger than that of a fully grown cat.
Seeing the King with a Dragon was something none of them ever saw coming; it was a miracle; they would serve the King until their death, but seeing the Dragon was something they would have never seen coming. Ser Gerold, The Commander, removed his helmet, holding it in front of his chest with his other hand; he pulled out his sword, followed by his two Sword brothers.
"I Ser Gerold Hightower now pledge my sword and counsel to the true king Jaehaerys Targaryen the third of his name. I will be his shield all his Life, take orders from no one but his until the day I leave this world."
"I, Oswell Whent, do hereby pledge my sword and counsel to the true king Jaehaerys Targaryen the third of his name; I will be his shield all his Life, take orders from no one but his until the day I leave this world."
"I, Arthur Dayne, do hereby pledge my sword and counsel to the true king Jaehaerys Targaryen the third of his name. I will be his shield all his Life, take orders from no one but his until the day I leave this world."
Jon stood silent, hearing their real names and the way they swore themselves to him; he had known what his father told about them wasn't entirely the truth, but to hear they were the Legendary Kingsguards wasn't something he had expected for a lifetime.
Especially someone like Arthur Dayne, the sword of the Morning, the one capable of dual wielding, and the fastest swordsmen in Westeros, possibly in the whole world.
Jon wondered if he deserved this, would he disappoint them? He didn't know what it was like to be a King, but that didn't mean he couldn't learn; he always wished to become more than just the son of Oberyn Martell; he always wished for the whole world to know him as someone who did extraordinary things and wouldn't be forgotten that easily. The words of his father and mother returned back on his head, and the screams of who he now knew were of his brother, sister, and Au-Mother Elia. The dreams still haunted him; no matter how many times he tried to mute them, he just couldn't, no matter how hard he tried.
Jon briefly glanced at his father, who looked at him with pride; he had been afraid his father would be angry; after all, he was a Targaryen, but his father looked at him the same way he had done his whole life.
Turning to the kneeling knights, he inhaled deeply before speaking with authority.
"I vow that you shall always have a place at my hearth and meat and mead at my table. I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise, my lord, your king, welcomes your service and will always value your wisdom."
With that said, they stood up; Arthur gave Oberyn a dirty eye for not kneeling but decided to talk later about it later. Now that the situation was less tense, Ser Gerold decided to ask something everyone was wondering about.
"Your grace, how is it possible! The dragon, How? We never thought the Egg would actually hatch?" Ser Gerold asked respectfully, his eyes not meeting his King. The dragon let out a loud whistle as if to say, 'I'm right here.
The boy put a finger under Rhaenix's neck, and she purred in a way, leaning her neck closer to his finger, enjoying her owner's attention. This baffled the ones present even more; here, a dragon was acting the same way as an ordinary housecat.
"Her name is Rhaenix," Jon said, turning to look at the lords; Oberyn felt a sudden pang on his heart but pride as well.
"Rhaenix! After your sister?" Oberyn asked but more like a statement rather than a question.
"Yes, father, I might have never known Rhaenys, Aegon, or Elia, but they were still family to me," Jon said with sadness; surprisingly, the dragon hunged down her head hearing his words, as if she could understand him and feel the same pain as him.
Oberyn found himself smiling; he had no doubts his son would finally bring peace and vengeance, the peace of his mind. Since that day, the Viper had never slept without regrets, planning and scheming in the background, ways to kill the entirety of House Lannister, especially Tywin, Ser Armor Lorch, and The Mountain, one day, he would have them in his grasp, once that day comes, he would finally be able to sleep peacefully, and Elia and her children could finally rest, knowing their killers were punished. Jon would help him to achieve that. They would accomplish that together.
"As for her, I don't know how it is possible; when I grabbed the Stone egg, I suddenly had a desire to bath it in my blood, I cut my palm slightly and let the blood drip at the egg hatching shortly after," Jon explained pointing at the small dagger lying on the carpet, and showing them his wounded palm, the blood now dry, but Oberyn knew immediately he needed to put some alcohol on it, or it would get infected.
"Let me," Oberyn said, pulling out a small bottle from a hidden pocket on his clothes; he always carried alcohol and antidote of various poisons he used in case he or anyone he knew accidentally got poisoned.
Jon extended his hand to his father, who gently grasped it before pouring down the alcohol; the prince suppressed a wince of pain, as the red liquid wet his palm, mainly around his dry blood.
"Done, it should stop hurting after a week; just don't reopen the wound," Oberyn warned him with a stern look for harming himself, closing the little bottle before hiding it in his pockets. Arthur wanted to ask where he got the knife to cut himself but figured that the prince perhaps had multiple knives hidden on his clothes; Oberyn always wished for his children always to be safe and not unarmed.
"Thanks, father," Jon said before turning to look at the kingsguard. "What now? What's the plan? Where do we go from here?" Jon questioned; he himself wasn't sure what to do.
"Your grace, your father's last order was to protect you and your mother. We have been guarding you and protecting you, and we will continue to do so for the rest of our lives; whenever you want to take the throne is up to you; if you want to take the Throne, we will protect you with all our might, if you simply want to settle down and not take the throne then we will follow you on that as well," Ser Gerold respectfully, his voice firm and deep.
His voice alone made it obvious why he was the commander and not Ser Arthur, while the Sword of The Morning was the better one in fighting; Ser Gerold knew how to think and act at the right moments.
Jon pondered on his words; he knew he needed to make a decision; instead of answering, the prince looked up at his kingsguard with a thoughtful look.
"You knew my parents didn't you, Sers?" He questioned, getting a nod as an answer. "Why did my father betray Elia Martell, was my mother really how Dorne describes her?" Jon asked, his voice cracking a bit at the end, he still viewed Oberyn Martell as his father, but he wondered what his parents were like.
In Dorne, Lyanna Stark was known by many as the Whore Queen; many citizens would often gather and sing together about how she had seduced the Silver Prince using witchcraft and other sinful abilities. Rhaegar Targaryen was known as the Prince of Treason and many other nicknames. Now, he finds out that he is their child. Would Dorne or anyone even support him? After all, many might see him as the reason for the Rebellion. Will my siblings hate me if they find out? Jon questioned himself with sadness; he couldn't bear the thought of any of his sisters, especially Nym to look at him with hatred; he wouldn't be able to live with it; if that happened, he would lose the only family he had.
Oberyn could tell what his son was thinking, how his face fell all of a sudden; even Rhaenix lowered her head, her little head patting Jon's cheek softly as if wanting to make him feel loved. Ellaria had warned him many times to let go of his anger towards Rhaegar, but the Viper had never thought he would tell Jon so early about it; he had wanted to wait until Jon was ten name days old; after all, his son was still a boy of seven name days.
At the words they heard about Rhaegar and Lyanna, Arthur was the first to react. "They Weren't Like That," he shouted in sudden anger, causing his brothers to wince and put their hands on the pommel of their swords facing him; Jon didn't react to his loud voice; Arthur's eyes widened slightly, realizing his mistake.
"I'm really sorry your gra-" "There's no need for that, Ser Arthur, a little loud noise is nothing I can't handle, but even father told me that you were Prince Rhaegar's best friend... What was he like?" Jon questioned a little reluctantly at the end, knowing his father didn't like whenever House Targaryen was discussed in front of him, especially Rhaegar.
Arthur wanted to point out that Rhaegar was his father but knew the prince had just found out the truth; it would take time for him to consider Rhaegar as his father if that would even happen. Instead, he smiled broadly, and the prince returned the smile a little; clearing his throat, Arthur was more than happy to tell him everything he knew. They all sat down in their specific chairs after The King told them they could sit down.
He started with Rhaegar's incredible voice, knowing that was something they both shared; Jon felt better for that; soon, he told him how at the beginning, Rhaegar was only a Prince of Books; he spent the majority of his time reading, until one day he showed himself in the Training Ground, how he had quickly become very good at wielding a sword. The first time they met and became good friends.
Telling him how Prince Rhaegar used to sing for the poor, giving them the money he earned, the words he was hearing brought a huge smile to Jon's face. During the whole time, Oberyn felt uncomfortable as Arthur practically sang praises for the Silver Prince, he wanted to say something against it, but he swallowed his hatred; Jon, the one kid who looked up to him, depended on him now; he needed to show it that he still looked at him as his son if he suddenly showed signs of anger and hatred... Nooo, is his birth father; it is only natural that he wants to know more about him, Oberyn thought, swallowing a huge breath to calm himself.
Arthur told everything he could about Prince Rhaegar, Jon listened closely, his eyes welling up at the end, but he swallowed hard, not wanting to show tears in front of his kingsguards. Once Arthur stopped talking, only then did Jon decide to ask something else that had been eating him on him...
"W-Why did he run away with Lyanna? He was married and had two children?" Jon asked, almost not wanting to know the truth, he knew he wouldn't even be alive, but to him, it would have been better for Aegon, Rhaenys, and Elia.
His kingsguard held their tongue, Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell didn't know why exactly, but Arthur knew, opening his mouth to speak...
"My Sister," Oberyn's voice was suddenly heard in the room, his voice sounding broken, his eyes looking at who he called a son.
"My sister always had problems with her health, always. It took everything for her to give birth to Rhaenys and Aegon; after giving birth to Aegon, the maesters told her that she couldn't have more children. Despite what you might have heard. Rhaegar loved my sister and your siblings; he loved them dearly... but he wanted a third one," his voice cracking more with each word he said, his feet bringing him closer to Jon.
"Dorne hates your mother for what happened in that rebellion, but they don't know the whole truth; Elia loved Lyanna as well; I don't know all the details, but before it all went downhill, Elia was able to send a letter to us, explaining the whole situation, she told us that she loved Lyanna like a sister, and begged us never to hate you," Oberyn explained, holding back the tears, the viper prince knew there was a chance that perhaps Elia didn't actually love Lyanna but only wrote that in case he and Doran would be hostile towards Lyanna and her child, but he didn't need to say his doubts to Jon, he didn't need that, walking up to Jon who was still sitting at the edge of the bed, looking at him, putting a hand on his shoulder, his spoke as sincerely as he could.
"I told you that you can still call me father, and I meant it; I love you like my blood, and so would Elia; she holds nothing against you; hell, she would likely beat me up if I dared to look at you in the wrong way," Oberyn spoke warmly, before hugging Jon who hugged him back, his little son crying against his shoulder.
"Don't think of yourself as different, and neither will the others; they won't care who you are, and neither will I," Oberyn spoke tenderly, rubbing his back; Rhaenix had jumped on the bed and was looking at them in a strange way. Arthur smiled at the scene and was half-convinced to leave them alone for a bit until the king calmed down.
Later
Soon the prince calmed down, talking a bit more with his father and kingsguards; Jon stood up from his bed, his face suddenly serious. He thought of it; his parents and his family were dead; he didn't want who killed them to get away with it; he wanted their death to mean something.
"Father, I want to talk with Uncle Doran," Jon spoke with authority.
Oberyn smirked like a snake. The time has come for everyone to know that House Targaryen was not Dead.
Daenerys Targaryen
A little girl with silver hair snuggled against her brother, who held her close; her barefoot had turned black like coal, dirt underneath her fingernails, her lips dryer than the deserts of Dorne, her white face covered in mud. They found a comfortable place to sleep underneath an old house that no one used anymore. Their stomachs were singing in hunger; Viserys was caressing her silver hair, knowing it always calmed her down.
"I'm hungry, Viserys," Dany cried, feeling her guts almost twitching; her tongue felt like a brick in her mouth.
"Shhhh, soon, sweet sister, soon we will not be hungry anymore," Viserys spoke with as much conviction as he could muster, knowing they still had the crown of their mother left, his right hand caressing her hair, his left holding the beautiful crown of their mother.
He closed his eyes tightly, to the point that it hurt, to stop his tears from spilling out; he could still feel his mother whenever he held her crown, her beautiful silver hair reminding him of home, reminding him of their brother.
His eyes opened to look at his small sister, hearing her stomach grunt break his heart like a piece of glass and holding the crown tightly to the point that the sharp edges of the crown almost pierced his skin.
Mother, please forgive me, is the only way, he thought, more tears rolling down his face, yet he didn't let out a sobbing sound from his throat; he was convinced now. His mother was dead, but by selling the only thing they had left from her, perhaps, Dany could have a chance.
He was caressing her hair tenderly. "Sleep, Sweet sister, tomorrow we will have a feast, meat, chicken, tomatoes, and even lemons," he whispered, the last part earning a giggle from her.
"Promise me?" She asked, her voice hoarse and broken but slowly filling with hope.
His fingers tightly around the crown, his skin bleeding, his eyes shut tightly.
"I-I Promise,"
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