#I do not want to be stuck in a dragon infested frozen hell at the mercy of a man who has made it clear he wants to sleep with my character

[eorzeaisnotcrash]

(ARR Diary #41) I HATE THE WORLD.

Minfilia, who still looks pretty sad, says it’s been 15 years since Winterfell fought beside anybody. She hopes everyone will cooperate more in the future. There is zero enthusiasm for going to eat free food thanks to all the crap we need to deal with and the people we’ve lost. But we pretty much have to go, because unity. Tataru and F’lhaminn might not get anything because they’re out, so the best boss lady can do is leave them a note and wait for them to catch up.

On the way out, Riol notices JoJo is not excited about free food. I take this opportunity to let him know what’s happened to poor Wilred. He tells me a good chunk of our funding comes from that damn Television, and promises to purge everyone who took his filthy money. Call me if you want help with that!

JoJo catches up with everyone at Gerudo Town... and is ordered out, because Momodi needs help. (Thancred tells me to tell her hi.) Momodi just wants to pass on a message: Alianne needs to talk to me. But she never shows. Just a bit of glass and Laurentius the ex-sellout. After he encourages me to just leave, he starts talking to someone I can’t see.

There’s a short cutscene of Nanamo praying to her ancestors’ collective spirit for forgiveness. She did what she could. I don’t think they’ll be mad at her.

JoJo gives Momodi the glass, which is an empty alchemist’s vial. She says I ought to keep it, and I ought to speak to Her Grace. (Maybe she’ll let me hug her. Probably not.)

Everyone who is not me enjoys food and booze. Alphinaud brags about how awesome the future will be, and how “his” Warrior of Light will smack anyone who gives him trouble. Come on, man, I thought we were friends. Please don’t treat me like your personal bodyguard.

The game warns me to get a snack and use the bathroom and whatnot, because now we’re going to get some cutscenes. JoJo goes to speak to the Sultana. She smiles at me! ❤️ Aymeric is smiling at the leaders. Apparently their losses weren’t as bad as he’d expected. He tells the leaders thank you. I think I like grateful Aymeric. When can he thank ME again? Nanamo asks me to support Raubahn after she leaves the throne. I guess I can’t say no to her. She is happy and takes a drink, and then she dies. In pain. Great. Raubahn hears it all the way downstairs. GREAT. If HE hates me I’m in trouble. But the first one in the room is Television. (Convenient!) He pretends to be all upset, and blames JoJo and says to “arrest this viper.” Your mama, Television. JoJo doesn’t even get to protest. WEAK.

Alphinaud gets cornered in a back room, because apparently nearly everybody loyal to him has been trapped, and the backstabbers have also taken control of the Hall of Justice 2.0. Are we gonna get totally screwed in every headquarters we occupy? I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND, YUYUHASE.

Everybody else keeps eating until damn Television walks in and tells Aymeric to go home, because the dragons have surprise-attacked. The Man tries to arrest Thancred and uses Lahabread as his reason. Thancred, unlike JoJo, ain’t having it. Television comes and lies on me in front of everybody. Ilberd drags me in and throws me on the floor, and I just take it silently like I’m a useless chick in a bad movie. Television runs his mouth some more. I could SIT on you and end this! We get to watch Raubahn’s heart break... and since Television refuses to quit mocking the poor woman who did nothing to deserve any of this, we also get to watch him get chopped in half. GOOD. Rest in piss, you little gremlin. I’m just disappointed there’s no blood.

His next target is that irritatingly smug Lolorito. Yes please! Oh, no, fake bro Ilberd gets in the way and cuts off his friend’s arm. Bastard sold out and killed Her Grace himself, and he has to rub it in in the worst way. I want to reach through the screen and punch him harder than I did Television! So now the Flame General’s heart breaks and his rage rises for the second time in five minutes. He fights with his other arm, and cuts the bonds on the meat puppet that is JoJo (I don’t claim her any more, if I wanted a character like this I’d play a bad otome game) before asking everybody to GTFO and clear their names. But what about YOU? What will YOU do, General? You’re the one with the righteous rage, and Twelve know we need that!

Thancred shows up and says he’s found a secret tunnel out. Yda and Papalymo get a cutscene in which they are BAMFs as they hold off the crooked soldiers. But then the crooks follow us into the not-so-secret tunnel. Thancred and Y’shtola are also BAMFs as they fight. Y’shtola asks somebody named Mhitra for forgiveness before she finishes a spell that will make the tunnel collapse. Since SOMEBODY has rendered JoJo unable to hear Hydaelyn, Minfilia receives the message and tells her she’s got to stay behind with everyone else getting screwed over. She says a little bit of crap about hope. Minfilia, what good is hope if JoJo has neither allies nor backbone? Every primal fight she’s engaged in only happened because others were there to help her reach said primal.

(Also, at some point there’s a cutscene where Lolorito is walking down a hallway and the lady-in-waiting walks up behind him. She doesn’t speak one word, or make any other moves. Nobody does much of anything.)

JoJo exits the tunnel, and shortly after is found by Alphinaud and a random Lalafell, who suggests everyone get away from the city. A dude with a wagon, the same dude from the beginning of the game, offers them a ride. He says Alisaie did something useful and asked him to give her brother a ride. Alphunaud at least has the maturity to admit he’s totally screwed us all with a sabotender dipped in acid. If JoJo ever is herself again, this friendship is SO over. The random Lalafell takes off his helmet and introduces himself. His name is Pipin, he’s the second most important dude in the Immortal Flames, and he dragged his butt back home just in time to save Alphinaud from the dudes who trapped him. Also, he’s the kid Raubahn adopted, and plans to go help his dad when he’s gotten shut of these two.

Pipin and these two get dropped at Black Brush, where I take cute Miri away from JoJo because right now I don’t feel she deserves anyone that lovable. Come on out, Midgardsormr. Also, fuck you. Pipin attempts to pump up JoJo’s ego, letting her know his father had a lot of good things to say about her. But he admits this is not how he thought they were going to meet. Bruh, me neither! Now Cid shows up. I’m still disappointed in him for not letting the Knight of the Slappable Face get Darwin’d in the World of Darkness, plus the three of us together are giving me flashbacks to that terrible time with the fake inquisitor and Garuda and all the crystals I had to hunt down. Cid has the airship, so Alphinaud says to go to Winterfell, whose government won’t allow foreign forces. What are you now, an exchange student? Goodbye, Pipin. Sorry the universe shat on your dad so badly. He’s a good man who, like his boss, deserved none of this.

Cid drops the two brainiacs off in the snow, and JoJo nods to him before he flies off. Alphinaud wants to speak with Haurchefant. After all the loss and betrayal and bullshit, I’m not interested in someone staring at my tits on top of that, but JoJo quietly nods like she always does. This game is making me want to turn off my computer and go play as a Renegade Shepard. (But I’ll still hug Tali. I have to support my girl. And I’ll still cure the genophage because I love my boy Wrex. Okay, looks like I’ll play a Renegon Shepard.)

[toaquiprashippar]

always there II

Hey, y’all...part II here, as promised. I hope you guys like it, still feels weird sharing, cause this is like my baby and me and @porrabett spent so much time working on this, I don’t know if I feel relief to let it out or a bit...weird. lol 

anyway, I hope you guys like it, it comes from my fangirl heart and my dear friend’s too, this girl could be an editor, just saying...

His first night in Dragonstone was a repeat of his last in Winterfell, his Lady friend was there, but this time there was no Ghost, nor a Weirwood tree, she was at the beach. She did not run, she walked, her hair was loose and her dress was blue, it was night but it was a full moon and he could see her from the back perfectly.

“My Lady?” She was five steps ahead of him, perhaps she wanted to be alone, yet, she had her hand behind her, as if she wanted him to follow him.

“Ma’am?” He walked faster, but she was still there, still the same distance ahead of him, no matter his speed. Which was odd, she was not tall nor was she speeding up, but she was unreachable.

She looked to the side, and he could almost see her face, except he could not. Then she stopped in front of the Castle, and ran to it. Jon ran after her. When she touched the long, large doors, she turned to him, her face was so sad. He knew that face, where did he knew that face from?

“He wanted you here. You are home”

Dark turned to silver; grey to lilac, blue to black, and it was not his shadow friend anymore; it was Daenerys Targaryen, gazing back at him. Before any of them could do anything, he heard her dragons from afar.

He woke up in a bed of sweat, still stuck in lilac seas, ignoring words that did not make any sense to him.

The moment he held that torch and took her into the cave, he knew she was the girl from the dream. The girl his favorite ghost turned into. It was all there. The sound of the waves, the stars – that now he knew for sure, were all Dragonglass reflecting the lights creeping in –, her silver braided hair, even her outfit were the same. He did not stop nor let himself think, he would do that later, alone in his room, he had a Queen to convince to join their cause, but somewhere in the back of his mind, that scared him.

Were dreams really a warning, or visions? Prophecies?

The moment Jon saw the Queen coming back from her trip from the Lannister army, he remember those words: “don’t let her fly away”.

He was not going mad; he remembered waking up to them, as if the wind told him a secret, as if the wind had a woman’s voice. Daenerys was flying back to Dragonstone, like the warrior Queen that she was, how beautiful she looked from here, or from anywhere, really.

‘Don’t let her fly away’

Jon remembered Old Nan telling him and Robb how all over Westeros, there used to be Weirwood trees, watching the Children of the Forest, and protecting them, as they carved faces and prayed for their Gods for such protection, but after the First men arrived and cut down the trees, the wind became their way of speaking to us in the South, if you wanted to hear the Old Gods, just speak to the wind, and listen to it.

Jon was not important enough to have the Gods attention, but he wish he could have Daenerys’.

The beast was approaching, but he would not move from here, he wanted to touch it, he would not miss this for the world. She would not fly away nor would he move an inch.

He took off his glove and approached slowly, touching the dragon’s rough and hard skin, and it felt like nothing it ever felt before.

He thought of those strange words:

Welcome home, Jon.

He was not home, but somehow, this felt so right, this fit so properly. Daenerys got down from her dragon and walked to him, as if she did not just had one of the greatest and fastest victories Westeros had ever seen.

They watched the animal leave, and while the Queen seemed momentarily offended by the King in the North calling her children “beasts”, he could only stare at her, like he wish he could do for the rest of his days. He knew this was not what he was here for, they had a war to win, the greater evil to slay, but for a moment, he could not stop himself from wonder what it was like to want something and just have it, without guilt or shame, take it.

She would fly alright, he would not stop her he did not know what those words meant, but seeing her receive Lord Commander Mormont’s son, see how she did not like to use her dragons just as much as he did not like to use his sword, his guts told him that he’d grown used to her, how strange it would be not have her around.

They had to go north…True North, beyond the Wall and not everyone knew what that meant. But he did, Jon knew exactly what it meant.

A long time ago, it meant the Free folk, he couldn’t help but think of Ygritte, Mance and his time amongst them; now it only meant not knowing if he would ever come back, if he would ever see Arya and Bran again like he did Sansa, or Daenerys Targaryen.

She tried to make him stay, use her authority over his, but he was still a King and he knew his mission, his duty, he did not have a choice, Jon had to go. If they had a chance of gathering proof so they could show it to Cersei Lannister, and bringing the living together to fight the Dead, he would do so.

That night he dreamt of Dragonstone once more, although it was dark and there was no one but himself, and the Queen’s dragons. He found himself on the hill Daenerys landed with her black dragon the other day, but this one was not him, it was the green one.

The boy inside him wanted to touch him too, he had been fascinated by dragons ever since he could remember, and so he did. The dragon seemed to welcome his touch, closing his eyes with his contact; the feeling would never cease to amaze him. Although knowing this was but a dream, the dragon positioning his wings for him to go up on him, as if he wanted Jon to ride him shocked the King in the North and his winter blood.  

Legitimate or not, Jon was a Stark, no person without valyrian blood running through their veins could ever ride a dragon, could they?

However, this was not real, so he could do as he wanted, and that he did. Jon went to the dragon’s back, and it felt like nothing else in the world.

How much faster could they reach the Wall? How much faster could they catch a Wight, if only they could go on a dragon’s back? If this was a dream, there were no harm, he could try.

Sōvēs

However, the dragon would not go, he only knew the valyrian word to make him fly cause read it in a book, long time ago, but even so, the dragon would not obey.

He would not even look up, like a spoiled child. Like knew what he was being asked to do, but he still would not do it; his ears moved to Jon’s poor pronunciation, after all he never heard it properly, only read it in books, but the green dragon knew exactly what it meant, just chose to ignore him. He would not go.

Sōvēs

Perhaps only a Targaryen can fly a dragon.

Jon pet the animal once more, going down through his wing. Once he was the ground, he saw big eyes staring back at him, as they wanted to tell him something…To ask him something. However, he did not. He opened his wings and fly away.

The King in the North could not hide his disappointment. He really wanted to ride that dragon.

Oh, to be a Targaryen and to fly…If only.

It was said hell was made of fire, but after fighting the Night King once more and nearly succumbing before him, Jon was sure it was built of ice. Hell was white and it was infested with blue-eyed corpses, frozen monsters and dead creatures. He was about to stay there forever when his uncle rescued him, and gave his own life for Jon’s.

After years not knowing whatever happened to Uncle Benjen, he came out of the snow and burned them again, gave him a horse and sent him on his way to his Queen. To his savior.

Jon was sure he was going to die beyond the Wall. He was sure he would never again hold his little sister Arya, nor see his brother Bran or kiss Sansa’s forehead. When you see yourself in a field of death surrounded by enemies and neither weapons nor numbers at your favor, you prepare yourself to go.

He would miss his family and the reunion they would never get to have; he would miss Sam, Edd and he would miss his home, Winterfell; lastly but definitely not less important, while wielding Longclaw on the Dead, his mind wandered to silver and lilac. When he heard the dragons screeches and saw her, like a vision in the sky, to save them, he could deny himself no longer: he had feelings for The Dragon Queen. She had come for them. She cared.

The moment she fly his way, he remembered his dreams and those words: “don’t let her fly away”; somehow, Jon knew Daenerys was the one his ghostly friend warned him about, she was meant to save him, were they meant to something else? But he did let her fly away, had he gone, she would fall with him and he could not accept a world without Daenerys Targaryen in it. He would make sure she survived, to save them and bring better days.

Before they could react, her child fell. Blood raining from the sky, one could hear his brothers cry from miles away, mayhaps Essos could her it. It was not a dance, it was a cry, the dragons wept their brother and so did his Mother.

He send them on their way, never looking back. He could not, he would not or he was lost. Until he fell. Until Uncle Benjen, until he saw thousand blue eyes, fireballs and black thick hairs. He could barely gather his surroundings; he called for Benjen to go with him, knowing he would not.

He felt weak and heavy, right before sleep claimed him, and it was as if he was being held gently in the horse seat, he heard that old, familiar voice whispering in his ear.

You are fine now, my pup. Benjen saved you for me. She awaits you; she will not leave without you. She also will not let you fly away, my winged wolf.

And just like that, darkness overtook him, involving him in dreams of silver hair and lilac crying eyes, a red rain pouring over the North, and a beautiful lady with gentle eyes in a beautiful white dress with silver and blue embroidery, blue winter roses all over her long wild black hair being held by a tall, lean yet strong man, on his back, that sang beautifully a sad song, while they watched the rain. He also had silver, long hair and his broad shoulders covered in a black doublet were all Jon could see of him. They were all standing at the Winterfell’s highest tower, watching the blood pour and taint the snow fields, yet no one would do anything.

As if she knew he was watching and what he wanted to know, she looked at him with those grey eyes, and her voice was as sad as the song the silver man sang.

“Winter is here, child. The Great War has begun.” She said.

“I am not strong enough…I can’t…” Jon felt so weak.

“You are stronger than you know, Jon.” She smiled. “I am sorry you have this burden layed on your shoulders, but you two are the only ones who can end Him. You were not the only one that was promised, child.” She touched his face, and turned back to the man beside her and the blood rain he watched.

When he woke up, any memories of promised ones and songs were gone. He woke up to his beautiful Queen, and her pained face. She was all he could think of, he could almost feel her pain.

I am sorry. I am so sorry…

He could feel the winds blowing in and out of the cabin and the heat off the melting candles, but no heat was stronger than the feel of their bodies brought together.

She was pure warmth, her skin was smooth and hot; her eyes were a pool of lilac lava and her hair glowed under the moonlight. No sight was prettier, no feel was better, no taste was sweeter, after a life of putting himself second to other’s desires, and he found something he wanted more than anything…Something worth fighting for. Her.  

It was an odd feeling; imagine that his lifelong shadow friend would warn him about her before they met. It was almost unsettling how many times she had appeared in his dreams and thoughts. He had never experienced such emotions, not even with his first love, his wild Ygritte.

She was there, she warmed his heart but even with her beside him, he would still feel cold, he would still feel alone. Here, in this bed, Jon felt like he belonged.

After their lovemaking, Daenerys drift off to sleep, legs tangled up in his, body leaned into his very own, her weight a light yet comfortable reminder, that he was not alone. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, before closing his eyes.

He slept all through the night, no dreams to welcome him in his sleep. How could his imagination be any better than the reality of such a night?

He did not understand the need of his ghostly friend claim Dragonstone as his home, but he was starting to think she did not mean it as a place, but its Queen.

His Queen.

They had stayed at White Harbor for at least five days, during the time which their ships and forces could settle and be properly ready for their journey to Winterfell.

Jon missed his Queen.

They were trying to keep their nights to themselves, each holding a room and actually sleeping in it throughout the night, to avoid suspicions from the Manderleys and everyone else, for now. He was sure Tyrion, Davos and Missandei were quite aware of how they spent their nights, they were not exactly so subtle on their trip, but they were in the North now, and they had his kingdom to convince to pledge to Daenerys…Thoughts of her seducing their King to make him kneel would not help now.

Missing her weight over his body, he fell asleep amidst the distant smell of blue roses, under the moonlight.

Sleep claimed him and took Jon elsewhere.

They were somewhere warm, he could feel see the sun up in the sky and the place looked like a weak attempt for a Godswood, this was more likely somewhere in the South.

A knight was taking off his helmet off, but it was not a man, it was a woman, she had her back turned to him, but she seemed in a frenzy. Not many women could horse ride like she did, nor could they use an armory like this girl wore.

Arya would be like this, he thought.

She was getting rid of whatever mismatched pieces of armory she wore. She was setting her hair free when he heard the horses and before the girl could hide, a nobleman mounted in a dark stallion was in front of her. His face was long and curious, with his deep indigo eyes. He had long silver hair, and Jon could clearly see the three-dragon symbol in the man’s chest, this man was a Targaryen.

What is this? What am I seeing?

Before the lady knight could turn his way, he heard a knock on the door, barely audible for anyone, but enough for a former brother of the Night’s Watch.

“Come in” Jon spoke in a rough voice, filled with sleep.

“Jon?” His eyes opened quickly, realizing it was Daenerys at the door. His cloak covering her thin shift, her long silver hair loosely braided hiding her chest.

“Dany?” He stood and made room for her to sit on the bed.

“I could not sleep. I had to see you” She seemed so small in her shift, once she let the cloak slip her frame and pool at her feet.

“I keep dreaming of my brother and a woman, watching the skies rain blood.” She layed next to him, tangling her legs to his.

“Viserys?” Was she dreaming the same things as him?

“Rhaegar.” She did not want to sound crazy, but she knew it was her older brother she was dreaming about. Having seeing him at the House of The Undying, and also having dreamt of him many times, she knew his face, his smile and even his voice.

“You never met him, how can you be sure it was him?” He didn’t doubt her, he just wanted to understand.

“I just know.” She did not know how to explain, she just knew.

“Who was the woman?” He asked. “What was she like?” He wondered if she had wild black hair, and a tall, slim and strong frame.

No answer ever came, only her silent breathe. Being next to Jon, safe in his arms, sleep was claimed her.

When he looked to her, she was deep asleep. He could not help himself, but smile, he missed her. He missed the peace he felt around her.

If the man in his dreams was Rhaegar Targaryen, was the woman, Lyanna Stark? Why would he dream of her? Why would she be all around him, all these years?

He feared the answered, and honestly, he did not want to know.

He did not want to know, but it did not mean he would not.

When they arrived at Winterfell, it was the happiest Jon had ever been in years. Seeing Arya, Bran and Sansa, once more.

He held his little sister like there was no tomorrow, especially since mayhaps there would be none. How he had missed her. She still had Needle, and now she knew exactly how to use it. She was a grown woman, even if she would always be his little wolf.

Bran was changed. They all had changed since leaving Winterfell, but none like Brandon Stark. The joyful kid was gone, and he was now solemn and distant, like a wise master or a servant of an order. Jon could only imagine the horrors little Bran had to go through to have changed so much and his heart ached to think he could not protect his brother from it all.

Truth is, they all had changed so much since they left home all those years ago. They were happy, safe and innocent, but after leaving the walls that made them, they met nothing but pain, misery, suffering and death.

Sansa left her love for songs and knights dreaming of nothing but the very home she once wanted to leave behind her, while Bran learned so much more than a person ever should, seeing the downfall of everyone he loved, he would never be the Kings guard he always dreamt he would, and his beloved Arya saw her world crumble around her many times, until she let it consume her and she became revenge itself.

He could not let himself think of his father, Robb or Rickon. Even Lady Catelyn. She might have hated him, but he would never think of her death with anything but sadness. The North will never forget.

After greeting and hugging each one of them, it was time to introduce their new Queen. It would not be easy, to make the Northern Lords bend to Daenerys, but Jon was determined. She had proven herself to him, she cared and she deserved it.

Daenerys presented herself, and spoke to everyone in the courtyard, she was humble and gracious, it was hard to resist her. Jon would know.

As he imagined, Arya was a little wary at first, but her eyes shined with the sight of dragons, it was as if she was meeting Visenya Targaryen herself, her childhood hero. Bran was nor impressed or anything else, he knew they were coming, but he was nothing but polite. Sansa was every bit the Lady she was taught to be, but she did not seem to trust Daenerys the slightest. They would have to work on that.

Sam was there too. His best friend, he would need him here, if they wanted to defeat the Walkers.

“Jon, there is something me and Brandon have to talk to you. You and the Queen. Alone” Sam had a weird look on his face.

“Me and Queen Daenerys? Alone with you and Bran? Does it have to be now? We just arrived, Sam” Jon wanted nothing more than to settle in his room and bathe before starting their plan to present Daenerys to the Northern Lords and start their defensive against the Night King.

“It is a matter of urgency.” Sam was serious.

Arya and Sansa had curious faces, so they did not know what was it about; Jon preferred them being there.

“Can Arya and Sansa be there? I would like them to.” He insisted.

“If you don’t mind. It is something about you.” Sam answered.

“They are my sisters. I don’t mind.” Jon was being honest. He looked at Arya with love once more, and Daenerys was looking at them, from a short distance. She had never received such a look from Viserys. He had once been a good brother, yes; but never had he looked at her with such love, with such a devotion. Jon loved his sisters, asking nothing in return, and she loved him even more for it.

“We should go to the crypts.” Bran finally spoke. “I think the Kings of Winter won’t mind the presence of Queen Daenerys, given the matter we have to discuss.” Everyone was curious; Brandon Stark was being very mysterious.

Off to the crypts they went.

Jon had the odd feeling of being watched, and not by the many people actually watching them on the courtyard, but by known eyes.

As they walked towards the crypts, dreams and memories of his childhood passed through Jon’s mind. Him and Robb hiding through the stone images; him challenging Theon to spar; his Lord Father grabbing winter roses to take to his sister’s grave.

Before his mind could wander further, they stopped in front of said sister’s grave.

“Do you know who this is, Jon?” Bran’s voice was solemn.

“Father’s sister. Lyanna Stark” He was confused. Why were they there? Was this some kind of trick? To make Daenerys uncomfortable? Everyone knew how Rhaegar Targaryen had kidnapped and raped her, and how his father had found her dying of a fever in a tower in Dorne, months after Robert’s Rebellion had started.

He could feel Daenerys moving restless next to him, she let go of his hand and she seemed like she wanted to be anywhere but down there.

“Yes. Lyanna Stark. Father’s sister.” Bran answered. “Your mother.” He spoked loud enough for everyone to hear. Enough to silence the room for a whole minute. Brains processing the information, questions being formed.

“I don’t understand. What are you saying, Bran?” Arya was the first to speak. Jon looked like he was about to collapse.

“Jon is not Father’s son. Neither trueborn son nor bastard. He’s Father’s nephew. Jon is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.” Bran spoke again.

“This is not funny, Bran. This makes no sense at all.” Sansa did not believe it. Daenerys was too shocked to say anything, dots being linked in her mind: Drogon let Jon pet him, her instant connection to him, Rhaegar appearing in dreams to her, the blue winter rose in a chink of a wall of ice, blood of my blood. Everything else was white noise around her, while her mind worked miles per hour and she tried to make sense out of things.

Jon, on the other hand, was about to pass out. He did not know if he ran or shout. So he was a product of rape? He could handle being a bastard, after all these years, he had finally made peace with it, regardless of who his mother was, no one could take away from him the fact that his father was Lord Eddard Stark, the most honorable man of Westeros. He was always proud to be compared to him; now he was robbed of that too.

“Jon? Do you hear me?” Sam was shaking his arm.

“What?” Jon was lost between wanting to punch something and crying.

“Robert’s Rebellion was built on a lie. Rhaegar didn’t kidnap or raped Lyanna. He loved her, and she loved him. They ran away together, he annulled his marriage to Elia Martell, and they got married in a secret ceremony in Dorne. Gilly and Samuel found the papers, all signed and described by the High Septon Maynard. You’ve never been a bastard, you’re the Heir to the Iron Throne.” Every word sounded foreigner to his ears, distant to the reality he grew up knowing. Rhaegar and Lyanna loved each other? He was a trueborn son? He was a Crown Prince? He was the Heir to the Crown? Before he could answer anything, he looked at Daenerys, she was pale, crying, her beautiful eyes were wet as was her face, streaming down the confusion and fear. What did that meant for them?

“Excuse me”. He did not know what to say, so he said nothing at all, he just ran. Fast. Away from them, away from the truth and what it all meant for him, his past and his future. Most of all, from his present.

so??? 

part III coming as soon as I’m done with it! <3 

This work is also on AO3. here.