[The voice that replies back is feminine and sweet but also confused. She doesn't think this message is meant for her but she'll feel rude if she doesn't reply.]
A storm had raged above Dragonstone the night before, one like the storm that gave Daenerys her name, and in the morning the men had found Rhaenys washed ashore, along with the wreckage of a small rowboat. She was dressed plainly, with no signs of her station or House; the only hint to her identity, apart from her predominantly Dornish features, was a dagger tucked into her belt, though who was to say she hadn't stolen it?
No one dared to approach her at first, fearing that she was some sort of bad omen. It wasn't the first time for strange things to happen on the isle of dragons, after all.
Then she regained consciousness, coughing out water and curling up into a ball on her side.
The others might be too superstitious to approach, but not Jon. He has no concern about bad omens; he's already been dead once, he doesn't know what omens can do to him. He was raised to provide assistance whenever necessary besides, which might have gotten him killed but he's not going to stop doing it now. He does the right thing, even when doing the right thing is hard, and providing shelter to a refugee is the right thing to do.
He pushes his way through the assembled crowd and approaches the newcomer. He doesn't have much experience with Dornishmen, having spent most of his life in the North and in the places he's been since, he's never been that far south, despite having been born there. But he has met a few men from Dorne, and he had received the same tutoring in the kingdoms and the characteristics of those who live there as Ned Stark's trueborn children had. So he can guess her origins. As for the dagger in her belt, it does make him a bit wary, knowing of the previous attempts on Daenerys' life and the fact that there are those who would still want her dead, but he knows how well-protected she is, and he himself wears a dagger in his belt, so he understands the instinct.
He comes to stand next to her, with his distinct Northern features and undeniable accent to confirm his origins, and holds out a hand to help her up. "Come. It's more comfortable inside."
Even as Rhaenys accepts the stranger's hand and lets him pull her up, her expression remains guarded. Her gaze slips to the dagger on his belt before returning to his face, acknowledging that he's armed as much as she is, though it moves even further up, past his head and to what looks like a looming fortress behind him. She knows where she is, s she'd seen the shadows of the island during their approach; then the storm had swept in and torn their ship apart.
She pulls her hand back slowly, looking back at Jon again. "What is a Northman doing so far south?" she asks, her own Dornish accent confirming her origins. The last she's heard, Dragonstone was unoccupied, abandoned by Stannis Baratheon when he'd decided to go and take the fight north.
What is he doing this far south? The full story is a long one, and most of it isn't necessary. The immediate reason that brought him here is enough, especially since there's not time for all of it right now anyway.
"There's a threat in the North, a threat to all of Westeros. I came here to ask Daenerys' assistance in fighting it." It's not something the men of the North can do alone, and his allies are few at the moment. Convincing even one person to provide assistance would be a start.
The spotlight was not something Rhaegar Targaryen really wanted, but he loved music and couldn't part from it no matter how hard he tried. He'd had quite the career, though unfortunately tainted by his failed marriage to Elia Martell; still, the man had talent, and he continued to make music and hold performances even after his contemporaries had faded into obscurity. The media, of course, had chalked it up to his father, who might not have approved of his career and life choices but had refused to let him sink and tarnish their family name all the same.
He'd been invited to play in an event up north by his best friend, army captain Arthur Dayne, and he's finishing up his second set of the evening, playing a song he'd sung more than a hundred times over. A song about winter and roses, one of his all-time hits, written a long time ago for a young lady he'd met and had a bittersweet summer fling with.
Then he salutes and slips off the stage to grab a drink from the bar.
Jon had found a spot in the back from which to watch the performance. He'd come more because he wanted to get a glimpse of the man he now knows is his father than for any other reason. He hasn't even really decided if he wants to try and meet him. His identity had been kept secret for a reason, after all -- the Targaryens have powerful enemies -- but he is curious about him. He wonders if Rhaegar had known of his existence, but supposes that he hadn't, because why would he have been left up north after his mother died if his existence had been known?
It's the final song of the set that convinces him to try and meet Rhaegar. He's heard it many times, but it has more meaning now.
He makes his way through the crowd to the bar, finally squeezing his way close enough to be heard over the din of the other voices...only to realize that he doesn't know what to say. His features should do a good amount of talking for him, as obviously Stark as they are.
He has to say something, though. Even so, he stumbles over the words. "That song, you wrote that for Lyanna." He's sure of it, knowing what he does now.
He'd never spoken about Lyanna Stark, though there had been rumors about a dark-haired girl from the north he'd fallen in love with and written songs about. Not that she'd been the only one, as far as the rumors were concerned; it was easy for a singer-songwriter to get caught in romantic gossip, especially the likes of Rhaegar Targaryen.
Surprise flickers on his face and he opens his mouth to say something — to deny, to feign ignorance — but then he closes it again. Something about the young man looks familiar, but he can't put his finger to it.
"Where did you hear that?" is what he asks instead, but it's good-natured, with no malice or anger in his tone. He gestures to his bottle of beer as a way of asking Jon if he wants a drink, his lips pursed into a small smile.
From my father, is almost his immediate reply. While it's true that Ned Stark has been a father to him, and will always be like a father to him in many ways, the man in front of him now is also his father, the one responsible for his existence. Even if this is the only time they ever talk, he has to reconcile the fact that due to some twist of fate, he has two fathers.
He nods at the bartender and waits until he gets his drink and the man is no longer paying attention to them to answer. "From the man who raised me. Ned Stark." Now he's revealed not only that he knows Lyanna's full name but also how he knows it, and why he looks familiar, too. He's a Stark. "Lyanna Stark was my mother. She told him that before she died."
Lyanna has noticeably vanished from the feast, clearly upset over something more than just Robert Baratheon. She'd looked just a breath away from fighting Ned, in front of the royal delegation and everyone else gathered in Winterfell's great hall, though only her own son would've noticed that.
Jon will find her in the crypts, in front of her brother Brandon's statue.
"The South is no place for a Stark," she says when her son comes, her voice lined with steel yet also close to breaking. "Robert has asked Ned to be his Hand, and..." She shakes her head repeatedly, as if that would change her other brother's mind.
He wasn't the only one who had noticed that Lyanna had left the feast, though he was the only one who knew it was because of how upset she was. He had waited a few moments and then followed, less obviously, because he doesn't want anyone to follow him and find them. Mostly because he knows what kind of scolding they'll get from Lyanna if they're interrupted.
"And he will accept." He knows Ned well enough that he doesn't have to be told where he thought is going. They both know what comes next. "Perhaps he thinks he can do some good."
Lyanna wrings her hands for the lack of anything better to do with them. "Aye, and he has always been fond of Robert." Alone with her son in a place no one would think to go during a feast, she doesn't bother to mask the venom in her voice when she says the King's name. "He'll never listen to me..."
She turns to look at Jon then, her face unusually distraught. Because the worry she holds is not just for her brother, but for her son too. Silently, she thanks the Old Gods that Jon bears not a single hint of his father's appearance... except for his brooding, thoughtful nature. But that could be easily mistaken for the Starks' sullenness, too. Still, if Ned, the only other person with the knowledge of Jon's true parentage, is bound for the capital...
"I hope you and Robb aren't planning to accompany him?" She might be overreacting, but she wants to nip in the bud any boyish thoughts of adventure they might have.
Selene gazes down at King's Landing from her perch on one of the Red Keep's towers, sitting dangerously on the ledge of one of the windows. She's snuck past her guards and has taken up watch in the dead of the night, hoping that her excursion would give her some peace and summon sleep. It's not her marriage that worries her. She'd been concerned for a time, yes, wondering if she should've just chosen the barbarian, but that had been before she'd met Jon. But it's the ghosts of her past that won't keep still, and some nights, in the emptiness of her room, she almost hears her dead brothers calling out to her.
I won't rest until you are avenged, her own voice echoes in her mind, reminding her of a promise she'd made on her mother's deathbed. But she's much too far away to enact any plans of revenge, and her betrothed has practically offered her a new beginning. And wasn't this everything she ever wanted, anyway? A crown she's always been meant to have, and someone she could love in the way her mother had loved her father?
Jon's coronation had been celebrated throughout Westeros, with most households mainly caring because it meant an end to years of war. Some of the great Houses had celebrated the return of a Targaryen to the throne; some of them had cared that it meant that the Lannisters were no longer anywhere near the throne. And those who had been less than pleased at the turn of events had been smart enough not to make it known.
Then his small council had brought up the topic of a wife, and an heir, and he knew they were right. If he wants to solidify his position and avoid another war of succession, he needs both of those things. He had just put some caveats on it. He wanted to meet any potential wives before making anything official, and she had to agree to everything as well. He wants a wife who isn't after the role just because it means she get to be queen; one Cersei Lannister is enough for his lifetime. After the feasts, the conversations, the negotiations, and an important discussion with Sansa, his marriage to Selene is impending.
He's out and about in the Red Keep himself, as he is most nights. If he doesn't see his own death again when he tries to sleep, he sees Rickon's, the one he couldn't prevent. Or he imagines deaths he wasn't even present for but which still torment him anyway.
Add in all of his new responsibilities from sitting on the Iron Throne, and he rarely has a night of untroubled sleep.
He has left Ghost in his room tonight, but he knows there are a couple of members of the Kingsguard nearby everywhere he goes, and he can't do anything about that. He's gotten used to the shadows following him around.
He climbs up tonight, remembering his time at the Wall and all of the cold nights he had stood watch. How things have changed since then. He's not afraid of heights, at least, so up to the tower he goes.
He turns the corner and is surprised to see that he's not the first one to arrive there. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize there was anyone else up here." His accent sets him apart from those who have spent their entire life in King's Landing, but here he won't feel so aware of that. Not with someone else who isn't from King's Landing either.
His quiet approach startles her, but she's thankfully had more than enough experience with actually not being queenly and sitting on and climbing out of windows. "Jon!" she exclaims, one hand clutching the edge of the stone upon which she sat, the other wrapped around a small satchel she's diligently wearing over her nightdress. Maybe it might seem like she's only forgotten to call him by his title because of her fright, but she'd also warmed up rather quickly to him - though there were still secrets, of course, that she refused to share. "You startled me. What are you doing here?"
She shifts to bring herself a little more inside the tower than outside, leaning in a way that indicated she was checking if he'd brought Ghost with him. "If I'm not supposed to be here, I'm sorry," she apologizes, though she doesn't stand up to bow or curtsy or whatever. "I just..." She looks away, the hand around her satchel tightening. "I can't sleep."
She's taken well to King's Landing for the most part, though she still longs for the beauty and splendor of her own Alexandria. And while she's found some sense of belonging with the family she's about to marry into, she hasn't entirely shed her self-consciousness on the fact that she's a foreigner, and that she's practically a gift from Octavian for a promise of alliance with this new king. She's just really good at not showing it. Her mother had taught her well.
It had been easy to keep the missives from Westeros under wraps. But the sight of a foreign ship approaching the docks one morning, well... the Crown had no other choice but to pretend to be surprised, and send a military detachment to greet their guests.
With her father needed in the palace for an emergency council meeting, Nausicaa had been given the assignment. While she wasn't a high-ranking officer by any means, she was the General's daughter, and the King's betrothed, which was high enough for a diplomatic encounter. That and she had her own dragon, a magnificent creature named Inanna. Even in the early morning light, her scales sparkled like rubies.
Partly out of curiosity, and partly for effect, she and Inanna circle the Westerosi vessel before flying back to shore. A few guards flank them while they wait, but Galenaea has deemed a single dragon and her rider more than enough for a welcome party.
"Your Grace." His name is Jon Snow, she'd been told. The King in the North. And he's come for their mines. "Welcome to Galena." She doesn't disembark, not just yet, but she smiles pleasantly enough.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2019-12-02 02:10 am (UTC)Why does everyone keep asking if they can touch my hair?
UN: Americasass
Date: 2019-12-02 02:26 am (UTC)un: kinginthenorth
Date: 2019-12-02 03:06 am (UTC)Jon Snow. Who is this?
Re: un: kinginthenorth
Date: 2019-12-02 03:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2019-12-02 04:01 am (UTC)You have incredibly stunning hair. The sort most women would kill for.
no subject
Date: 2019-12-02 04:30 am (UTC)I will never understand women.
no subject
Date: 2019-12-03 02:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:audio - un; Angel
Date: 2019-12-02 04:19 am (UTC)I don't know. Perhaps it's beautiful?
un: kinginthenorth
Date: 2019-12-02 04:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-12-02 05:06 am (UTC)Anything can be beautiful, even 'just hair'
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Date: 2021-06-22 10:47 am (UTC)No one dared to approach her at first, fearing that she was some sort of bad omen. It wasn't the first time for strange things to happen on the isle of dragons, after all.
Then she regained consciousness, coughing out water and curling up into a ball on her side.
no subject
Date: 2021-06-23 01:37 am (UTC)He pushes his way through the assembled crowd and approaches the newcomer. He doesn't have much experience with Dornishmen, having spent most of his life in the North and in the places he's been since, he's never been that far south, despite having been born there. But he has met a few men from Dorne, and he had received the same tutoring in the kingdoms and the characteristics of those who live there as Ned Stark's trueborn children had. So he can guess her origins. As for the dagger in her belt, it does make him a bit wary, knowing of the previous attempts on Daenerys' life and the fact that there are those who would still want her dead, but he knows how well-protected she is, and he himself wears a dagger in his belt, so he understands the instinct.
He comes to stand next to her, with his distinct Northern features and undeniable accent to confirm his origins, and holds out a hand to help her up. "Come. It's more comfortable inside."
no subject
Date: 2021-07-31 03:04 pm (UTC)She pulls her hand back slowly, looking back at Jon again. "What is a Northman doing so far south?" she asks, her own Dornish accent confirming her origins. The last she's heard, Dragonstone was unoccupied, abandoned by Stannis Baratheon when he'd decided to go and take the fight north.
no subject
Date: 2021-08-01 01:57 am (UTC)"There's a threat in the North, a threat to all of Westeros. I came here to ask Daenerys' assistance in fighting it." It's not something the men of the North can do alone, and his allies are few at the moment. Convincing even one person to provide assistance would be a start.
"What's a Dornishwoman doing so far north?"
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:i remembered this as i was looking for your open post, so have a surprise tag c:
From:surprise tags are the best tags
From:if you would pardon my icons—
Date: 2021-07-28 02:58 pm (UTC)He'd been invited to play in an event up north by his best friend, army captain Arthur Dayne, and he's finishing up his second set of the evening, playing a song he'd sung more than a hundred times over. A song about winter and roses, one of his all-time hits, written a long time ago for a young lady he'd met and had a bittersweet summer fling with.
Then he salutes and slips off the stage to grab a drink from the bar.
no subject
Date: 2021-07-29 02:23 am (UTC)It's the final song of the set that convinces him to try and meet Rhaegar. He's heard it many times, but it has more meaning now.
He makes his way through the crowd to the bar, finally squeezing his way close enough to be heard over the din of the other voices...only to realize that he doesn't know what to say. His features should do a good amount of talking for him, as obviously Stark as they are.
He has to say something, though. Even so, he stumbles over the words. "That song, you wrote that for Lyanna." He's sure of it, knowing what he does now.
no subject
Date: 2021-07-31 12:35 pm (UTC)He'd never spoken about Lyanna Stark, though there had been rumors about a dark-haired girl from the north he'd fallen in love with and written songs about. Not that she'd been the only one, as far as the rumors were concerned; it was easy for a singer-songwriter to get caught in romantic gossip, especially the likes of Rhaegar Targaryen.
Surprise flickers on his face and he opens his mouth to say something — to deny, to feign ignorance — but then he closes it again. Something about the young man looks familiar, but he can't put his finger to it.
"Where did you hear that?" is what he asks instead, but it's good-natured, with no malice or anger in his tone. He gestures to his bottle of beer as a way of asking Jon if he wants a drink, his lips pursed into a small smile.
no subject
Date: 2021-08-01 01:21 am (UTC)He nods at the bartender and waits until he gets his drink and the man is no longer paying attention to them to answer. "From the man who raised me. Ned Stark." Now he's revealed not only that he knows Lyanna's full name but also how he knows it, and why he looks familiar, too. He's a Stark. "Lyanna Stark was my mother. She told him that before she died."
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:now i'm just piling on you
Date: 2022-07-06 04:28 pm (UTC)Jon will find her in the crypts, in front of her brother Brandon's statue.
"The South is no place for a Stark," she says when her son comes, her voice lined with steel yet also close to breaking. "Robert has asked Ned to be his Hand, and..." She shakes her head repeatedly, as if that would change her other brother's mind.
bring it on
Date: 2022-07-07 03:01 am (UTC)"And he will accept." He knows Ned well enough that he doesn't have to be told where he thought is going. They both know what comes next. "Perhaps he thinks he can do some good."
no subject
Date: 2022-07-07 12:53 pm (UTC)She turns to look at Jon then, her face unusually distraught. Because the worry she holds is not just for her brother, but for her son too. Silently, she thanks the Old Gods that Jon bears not a single hint of his father's appearance... except for his brooding, thoughtful nature. But that could be easily mistaken for the Starks' sullenness, too. Still, if Ned, the only other person with the knowledge of Jon's true parentage, is bound for the capital...
"I hope you and Robb aren't planning to accompany him?" She might be overreacting, but she wants to nip in the bud any boyish thoughts of adventure they might have.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2022-07-06 04:44 pm (UTC)I won't rest until you are avenged, her own voice echoes in her mind, reminding her of a promise she'd made on her mother's deathbed. But she's much too far away to enact any plans of revenge, and her betrothed has practically offered her a new beginning. And wasn't this everything she ever wanted, anyway? A crown she's always been meant to have, and someone she could love in the way her mother had loved her father?
no subject
Date: 2022-07-07 03:37 am (UTC)Then his small council had brought up the topic of a wife, and an heir, and he knew they were right. If he wants to solidify his position and avoid another war of succession, he needs both of those things. He had just put some caveats on it. He wanted to meet any potential wives before making anything official, and she had to agree to everything as well. He wants a wife who isn't after the role just because it means she get to be queen; one Cersei Lannister is enough for his lifetime. After the feasts, the conversations, the negotiations, and an important discussion with Sansa, his marriage to Selene is impending.
He's out and about in the Red Keep himself, as he is most nights. If he doesn't see his own death again when he tries to sleep, he sees Rickon's, the one he couldn't prevent. Or he imagines deaths he wasn't even present for but which still torment him anyway.
Add in all of his new responsibilities from sitting on the Iron Throne, and he rarely has a night of untroubled sleep.
He has left Ghost in his room tonight, but he knows there are a couple of members of the Kingsguard nearby everywhere he goes, and he can't do anything about that. He's gotten used to the shadows following him around.
He climbs up tonight, remembering his time at the Wall and all of the cold nights he had stood watch. How things have changed since then. He's not afraid of heights, at least, so up to the tower he goes.
He turns the corner and is surprised to see that he's not the first one to arrive there. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize there was anyone else up here." His accent sets him apart from those who have spent their entire life in King's Landing, but here he won't feel so aware of that. Not with someone else who isn't from King's Landing either.
no subject
Date: 2022-07-07 04:28 pm (UTC)She shifts to bring herself a little more inside the tower than outside, leaning in a way that indicated she was checking if he'd brought Ghost with him. "If I'm not supposed to be here, I'm sorry," she apologizes, though she doesn't stand up to bow or curtsy or whatever. "I just..." She looks away, the hand around her satchel tightening. "I can't sleep."
She's taken well to King's Landing for the most part, though she still longs for the beauty and splendor of her own Alexandria. And while she's found some sense of belonging with the family she's about to marry into, she hasn't entirely shed her self-consciousness on the fact that she's a foreigner, and that she's practically a gift from Octavian for a promise of alliance with this new king. She's just really good at not showing it. Her mother had taught her well.
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Date: 2023-05-16 08:36 pm (UTC)With her father needed in the palace for an emergency council meeting, Nausicaa had been given the assignment. While she wasn't a high-ranking officer by any means, she was the General's daughter, and the King's betrothed, which was high enough for a diplomatic encounter. That and she had her own dragon, a magnificent creature named Inanna. Even in the early morning light, her scales sparkled like rubies.
Partly out of curiosity, and partly for effect, she and Inanna circle the Westerosi vessel before flying back to shore. A few guards flank them while they wait, but Galenaea has deemed a single dragon and her rider more than enough for a welcome party.
"Your Grace." His name is Jon Snow, she'd been told. The King in the North. And he's come for their mines. "Welcome to Galena." She doesn't disembark, not just yet, but she smiles pleasantly enough.