63 Morning and Silverwing

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The Following 16 Chapters are available for Patrons. 

Chapter 64 (The Jousting), Chapter 65 (A Dragon of House Targaryen), Chapter 66 (A Threat or Salvation), Chapter 67 (Cannibal, The Wild Dragon), Chapter 68 (Daenerys, The Dragon Princess), Chapter 69 (A Golden Flower), Chapter 70 (Tears of Direwolves), Chapter 71 (A Stark Without A Direwolf), Chapter 72 (A Princess's Night), Chapter 73 (A Direwolf's Blood), Chapter 74 (Morning and Rhaenys), Chapter 75 (A Song of Dragons), Chapter 76 (Leaving Harrenhal), Chapter 77 (The Horn of Winter), Chapter 78 (An Innocent Boy), and Chapter 79 (The Faith of The Seven) are already available for Patrons.

This is the longest Chapter I have written in this Story so Far. I hope you enjoy it.

Elia Martell

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window and caressed her face, Elia slowly emerged from the depths of her peaceful slumber. The warmth of the morning sun, coupled with the gentle chirping of the birds outside, filled her heart with a sense of joy and tranquility that she cherished dearly. For Elia, this daily ritual of awakening to the soothing embrace of the sun was more than just a simple pleasure - it was a reminder of the beauty of Life.

The castle's kitchen was buzzing with the sound of clanging pots and pans as the servants were busy preparing a sumptuous breakfast for the Royal family. The aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon wafted through the air, making everyone's mouths water in anticipation.

As soon as the food was ready, the servants laid out the dishes on the long dining table, where the whole Royal family was waiting eagerly to break their fast. Prince Aemon and his beautiful wife were seated next to Prince Aegon, who started a deep conversation with his brother about the upcoming tourney. They discussed at length about the different knights participating in the tourney and who they thought would be crowned as the Queen of Love and Beauty. As they ate their breakfast, the conversation grew more animated, and they couldn't help but speculate who would win the coveted title. The room was filled with the sound of clinking silverware and lively chatter, and it seemed like everyone was in high spirits. The sun shone brightly outside, casting a warm glow on the faces of the Royal family, who were enjoying their meal together.

Elia watched as Aemon and his wife broke their fast with them; tomorrow would be the tourney, and the truth would be revealed. As Aemon savored his meal, Elia's eyes remained fixated on him, mesmerized by his every move.

Despite the chatter and clinking of plates around them, Elia was lost in thought, transported back in time to a distant memory of her beloved Lyanna. The image of Lyanna, her head thrown back in laughter, flooded Elia's mind as she recalled the first time she had seen her dear friend eating. It had been a comical sight, unlike anything Elia had ever witnessed before. She couldn't quite put her finger on what made Lyanna's eating habits so unique - perhaps it was a quirk of the Northern people in general, or maybe it was just Lyanna's individual idiosyncrasy. Nevertheless, the memory brought a smile to Elia's face as she watched Aemon continue to eat, lost in her own thoughts and memories.

Put a sword in Lyanna's hand, and she could easily use it; Her skills as a horse rider were equally impressive, as she could ride through the roughest terrain, but eating with manners at the table, was something Lyanna just couldn't fathom, especially when she was around people that she considered friends or family.

Elia felt a lump forming in her throat; she remembered Lya, their wild wolf. Elia still held the little dagger Lyanna had gifted her for her name day.

Elia's face lit up with a bittersweet smile as waves of melancholy washed over her, bringing back memories of Lya - her beloved friend and confidante, whose absence still left an unfillable void in her life. A sudden movement caught her attention, and she turned her gaze toward her daughter, and she could see it as clear as day. She wasn't blind; As she sat there, observing the scene before her, she couldn't help but notice the way Rhaenys was gazing at Aemon with an intensity that went beyond sisterly affection.

Elia mentally shook her head; it was as obvious as a Northern in Dorne, but Elia wasn't sure if she shouldn't be happy; Rhaenys had refused every lord so far, and if Rhaenys wanted Aemon as more than her brother than Elia knew they could marry perhaps.

Elia knew this was normal to House Targaryen, inbreeding. Still, when Rhaegar had told her that he would stop the brother/sister betrothals, Elia felt a wave of relief wash over her. She knew that she would no longer have to bear the weight of the decision to force her own children to marry each other, but now she couldn't simply bury her head in the sand and pretend that she couldn't see Rhaenys's way of looking at her brother, in a very similar way how Lyanna sometimes used to look at Rhaegar.

Elia felt her throat go dry as the deserts of Dorne, knowing that as soon as Aemon was revealed to everyone, her brothers would be informed; Elia's heart ached with the thought of Oberyn's wrath, but she knew that her brother was no monster. Despite his strong desire to protect his family, Elia wasn't overly concerned about Oberyn causing any harm to Aemon. She had known him for too long to believe that he would ever stoop so low as to harm an innocent child.

But Doran was the one that concerned her the most; despite his powerless and harmless appearance, Elia knew her big brother was anything but that, and she knew she needed to do something; she knew he would probably try to marry Arianne to Aemon to ensure that Lyanna's boy would never turn against them. While that would eliminate her brothers' suspicions towards Aemon, she knew Aemon would never agree to it.

The last thing Elia wanted was to force Aemon to marry Arianne, a woman he didn't know while being married to Val, his pregnant wife, while Rhaenys liked her brother. If Elia would choose between Arianne and Rhaenys, she would choose her daughter without hesitation.

A smile spread on her lips; Elia knew that perhaps Aemon could marry Rhaenys; Elia knew that neither Doran nor Oberyn would have anything against the match, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized how perfect it was. Rhaenys was fiercely loyal to Aegon and had no interest in taking the throne for herself, making her a perfect match for Aemon. But Elia knew if her brothers tried to get out of line, she would put them back in line.

I'm the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms; they will remember that if neither of them tries anything, Elia thought, already deciding to have a conversation with Oberyn right after Aemon is revealed to everyone.

Eventually, everyone stood up from their chairs; As Rhaenys stood up, she leaned in and whispered something to Val's ear, causing a faint smile to flicker on her lips. Intrigued, Daenerys stood up as well and followed the pair as they made their way towards the chamber doors. She couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity about what they were up to, and her steps quickened to keep up with them.

And it seemed Aemon wanted to go somewhere with Aegon and Ser Arthur, but Elia walked up to him, stopping them in their tracks.

The queen cleared her throat gently, causing Aemon to turn towards her, a soft smile spreading across his face. With a graceful bow, he greeted her with the utmost respect. "What can I do for you, your grace?" He spoke with courtesy.

Elia stopped herself from frowning; she wanted Aemon to see her as a mother, she knew she could never be Lyanna, but she could show him the support he needed.

"Aemon, later I will drink tea in my favorite place. Would you like to join me?" Elia invited him with a motherly tone; Aemon looked slightly away, perhaps embarrassed by her voice.

"Of course, your grace." Aemon accepted right away; Elia didn't try to correct him for addressing her as "your grace," as she knew she could do that later. She was looking forward to spending some quality time with Aemon, sipping tea, and chatting about everything under the sun.

Later

She had ordered her servants to place a finely-crafted wooden table on the balcony of her lavishly decorated bedchamber, which overlooked the sprawling garden of Harrenhal. As she gazed out, she could see the garden teeming with the joyous chatter of noblemen and noblewomen, adorned in their finest attire, their faces adorned with the brightest of smiles. The sweet aroma of blooming flowers wafted through the air as the guests strolled through the garden, admiring the beauty of nature and indulging in lively conversations.

Elia couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her as she sat on her balcony, basking in the warm sun and the gentle breeze and taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling garden. As Elia stood on her balcony, the warm breeze caressed her face, and the distant sound of the river echoed through the air. Her eyes gazed out into the darkness, and as she looked down, she noticed a young couple kissing below. She averted her gaze, not wanting to invade their private moment. With a soft sigh, she turned her attention to the towering walls of Harrenhal, their ominous presence casting an eerie shadow over the surrounding lands.

She couldn't help but bask in the warm embrace of the sunlight that was cascading down on her olive skin. It was as if the sun was reminding her of the sweet memories she had of her home in Sunspear, where the sun was always shining with a radiance that could light up the whole world. Despite the warmth not being as intense as back home, Elia relished the feeling of the sunlight's gentle touch on her skin, the way it made her feel alive, invigorated and refreshed all at once.

With a flick of her wrist, Elia beckoned her servants to bring forth a lavish display of sweets that glistened like jewels in the afternoon sun. And yet, that was not all that was on offer, for she also requested that they bring her a teapot that was crafted from the purest silver and adorned with intricate golden lines that encircled the rims of the vessel, the servants gracefully entered with a beautifully crafted silver tray, adorned with two delicate teacups that had intricate floral designs. These teacups, with their elegant curvatures, were hand-painted with the most exquisite blue and red flowers that seemed to be blooming right before her very eyes. The handle of each cup was painted in a luxurious gold, adding to the overall opulence of the moment.

Elia could hear the delightful sound of birds chirping near a tall tree in the distance. The sweet melody of the birds' song was so enchanting that she found herself smiling and enjoying the moment. The soft rustling of the leaves and the gentle breeze added to the serene atmosphere, making her feel peaceful and content. Suddenly, Elia felt a pang of nostalgia as she remembered how much her dear friend Lyanna used to love the sound of the birds. It was one of the things they used to bond over, and it brought back fond memories of their time together.

All of a sudden, a faint sound caught Elia's attention, causing her head to turn toward the wooden door. As the door creaked open, she quickly shifted her weight on her heels to face the entrance just as Aemon walked inside; Elia could see The Kingsguard stationed at the door giving Aemon a scrutinizing look, their eyes locked in a brief moment of tension before Aemon strode confidently into the room.

Aemon looked around her bedchamber; as he stepped through the grand entrance of the royal bedroom, he could not help but be struck by the breathtaking beauty of the opulent chamber. Candle chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a warm and inviting glow over the room. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes of regal splendor, while sumptuous silk curtains billowed gently in the gentle breeze from the open window. The focal point of the room was undoubtedly the massive four-poster bed draped in the finest linens and adorned with plush pillows; it looked like a sanctuary of comfort and luxury.

"Your grace, thank you for inviting me here," Aemon spoke with courtesy and a genuine smile toward Elia. The latter walked up to him from her balcony to meet him in the middle of the chamber.

Elia's voice was gentle and soothing as she leaned in to whisper in Aemon's ear, "You can call me Elia or Mother Elia if you want when we are alone." The warmth of her breath brushed his cheek as she placed a soft kiss on it, causing Aemon's heart to skip a beat. He felt his face flush with embarrassment, but the kindness in Elia's eyes melted away any discomfort he felt. With a tender smile on her lips, Elia watched as Aemon's expression shifted from embarrassment to relief at her words. She knew that he was still adjusting to his new surroundings.

"Please, have a seat," Elia said with a warm smile, motioning towards the spacious balcony where a beautifully set table awaited them. Aemon's senses were immediately awakened as he took in the sweet aroma of the freshly brewed tea emanating from the delicate porcelain teapot that was perched on the table, surrounded by an array of delectable sweets that looked almost too beautiful to eat. The gentle breeze blowing through the balcony carried the soothing sounds of the nearby fountain, creating a peaceful and serene atmosphere.

There were slices of freshly baked strawberry cake that were generously drizzled with golden honey, creamy cheesecake that looked like it could melt in one's mouth, a plate filled with perfectly cooked boiled beans, pitchers of rich and velvety cream, succulent snails in a sweet and garlicky glaze, tender sweetbreads that were seasoned to perfection, and fluffy apple cakes that were topped with a crunchy cinnamon streusel. The tantalizing aroma of these sweet treats wafted through the air, and Aemon could feel his mouth start to water uncontrollably as he tried to resist the urge to dive straight into the scrumptious spread before him.

With a gentle smile on her face, Queen Elia turned to Aemon as they strolled towards the balcony, the soft rustle of their footsteps echoing through the chamber.

"I hope you enjoy tea, Aemon," she said, her voice laced with warmth and kindness. "But if you're in the mood for something a little stronger, I have brought some of the finest Dornish Wine for us to indulge in." As they reached the balcony, Aemon graciously scooted out of his chair, allowing Queen Elia to take her seat before settling into his own.

"Thank you, Aemon," Elia spoke sweetly; Aemon showed her another genuine smile, his eyes feasting upon the sight of the wonderful garden. The garden, a breathtaking display of various hues of green, was a feast for the eyes and a balm for the soul, as the sound of the birds chirping in unison was mesmerizing and enchanting.

Aemon sat still, watching the small blue bird's playful dance before the tiny pink bird. As he observed the birds, his mind wandered back to memories of Kessa. She was once a small and majestic eagle whose wingspan could barely fit through the window of his small cabin. Aemon couldn't help but reminisce about the times when Kessa would perch on his shoulder, her sharp talons gently gripping his clothes as she gazed out into the vast wilderness. He remembered the feeling of her soft feathers brushing against his skin and the sound of her soothing chirps.

Now, she was larger than a Horse. Thinking about her, he could feel that Kessa had just brought Ghost a couple of rabbits she had haunted; one thing Aemon noticed about Kessa was that she always brought food for either Ghost or Aegarax, sometimes for both of them when they were hungry; she seemed to know somehow whenever they were hungry.

Aemon escaped his thoughts when Queen Elia asked him if he wanted a cup of tea. He accepted he could never say 'No' to good tea.

With a graceful movement, Elia reached out and wrapped her slender fingers around the handle of the steaming teapot, carefully lifting it up and pouring a fragrant stream of tea into two delicate porcelain cups. As she handed one cup to Aemon, her eyes sparkled with warmth and kindness, and she couldn't help but offer him a spoonful of sweet honey to add to his drink. However, Aemon politely declined, shaking his head with a small smile, and Elia simply shrugged.

"I like the tea without honey," Aemon said dismissively as he watched Elia put a spoonful of honey into her teacup. Aemon preferred his tea plain and unsweetened, while Elia had always enjoyed a touch of honey to balance out the bitterness. As she stirred the honey into her tea, the sweet aroma wafted toward Aemon, tempting him to try a sip. But he shook his head, knowing that the taste of honey would ruin the purity of the tea.

A moment of comfortable silence spread over them; She brought the steaming cup of tea to her lips, savoring the aroma of the fragrant brew, before taking a slow, thoughtful sip. The sweet liquid flowed down her throat, soothing and calming her mind with each swallow.

The gentle breeze played with his hair while he held a delicate porcelain teacup in one hand, feeling the warmth of the tea radiate through the air. Meanwhile, Elia sitting beside him, gazed upon him with her dark, almost mesmerizing eyes, taking in the sight of him in this peaceful state. She watched as he rested his cheek on his palm, his elbow propped up on the stone railings, lost in his own thoughts.

Elia could see he seemed deep in thought, almost like he was having a conversation with someone she couldn't see. Wanting to start a conversation, she cleared her throat to grab his attention.

"How do you feel about tomorrow, Aemon?" Elia asked, wanting to know Aemon better. They had exchanged pleasantries every day since they found out about him, but she had yet to have a conversation only with him, and Elia was sure this was a good opportunity to know each other better.

"I'm not sure, but whatever happens tomorrow. I hope it is for the good of the realm." Aemon reluctantly answered, his eyes flickering at Elia before looking at the view again.

"I heard from Rhaenys that you are good at horse riding?" Elia asked with an inquisitive tone, but more like stating a fact, a soft smile spread on his lips. She wondered if Aemon was as good as Lyanna at riding a Horse, she remembered the way Lyanna rode her horse as if she and the horse became one. As she reminisced about Lyanna's effortless riding technique, she recalled the way her friend's hair would whip around in the wind, her face illuminated by the sheer joy of the ride.

"I do, your Grace. I always loved riding a Horse. I suppose I take that after my mother." Aemon answered with a soft smile, his face brightened up by the sunlight, looking like a Targaryen prince.

Elia looked at Aemon and spoke sincerely, "You do." She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in before continuing, "Your mother was one of a kind horse rider, a true equestrian in every sense of the word. Her talent for horse riding was better than anyone I had ever seen before, even now fourteen years later. I still have yet to see someone who can ride just as good as she used to."

Aemon's mother had a natural talent that was unmatched by anyone else. It was as if she was born to ride. Elia's words seemed to bring comfort to Aemon, and he smiled gratefully at her. It was clear that he was happy that she was comparing him with his mother.

"You knew my mother well, Elia?" Aemon asked a little hesitantly as he drank his tea, his eyes looking at the strawberry cake; Carefully selecting a knife and fork, he delicately sliced a small piece of the cake, watching as the creamy frosting gave way to reveal the soft sponge beneath. Impatient to taste the sweet flavors of the dessert, he eagerly lifted the fork to his mouth and savored the first bite of the cake. The sweet, juicy flavor of the strawberries mixed perfectly with the honeyed sweetness of the cake, creating a delectable harmony of flavors that danced across his taste buds. As he slowly chewed the cake, he couldn't help but close his eyes and savor the moment before finally swallowing it down. Aemon had to admit the strawberry cake was his new favorite cake.

"I did, sweetly." She spoke, looking at Aemon; he liked the way she spoke to him.

"Can you tell me more about her? How was your first meeting?" Aemon asked curiously, his father had talked to him about his mother, but he wanted to hear it from Queen Elia.

Elia couldn't help but let out a small giggle as she reminisced about her first meeting with Lyanna, which was far from friendly. As she thought back to that day, she vividly remembered how she had an overwhelming urge to slap Lyanna in the face. In response to Aemon's inquisitive expression, she answered bluntly, "The first time I saw her, the first thing I wanted to do was slap her in the face." Elia's honesty amused Aemon, but he couldn't help but furrow his brow at the intensity of her initial reaction.

"Might I know what changed your decision, or did you slap my mother?" Aemon inquired, looking at her intently but with a hint of amusement in his voice. He could hear the sound of a blue bird singing in a tree, but he ignored it for now as he looked at Elia, who giggled.

"Well...

The first-day Rhaegar met her, he had told Elia about Lyanna Stark, the wild mystery knight. Apparently, the Knight of the Laughing Tree, a knight everyone was talking about, even Robert Baratheon couldn't shut up about it, saying the knight did a service to everyone by beating the knights of House Frey, saying they were the rats of the Seven Kingdoms, and saying if he could find The Knight of the Laughing Tree, he would give him a good beer and a good sword or hammer for his service.

Initially, when Elia got wind of Rhaegar's remarks regarding Lyanna, there was an intense feeling of anger that overtook her. The way Rhaegar spoke about Lyanna was almost as though he had a deep affection for her, or perhaps he already was in love with her, which made Elia's blood boil even more. She couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal, as she had always thought her marriage to Rhaegar was strong and stable. Hearing his words about Lyanna, it was as though their foundation was shaken to its core. 

Elia wanted to curse him; she wanted to throw something at him. However, her mind immediately raced to the harsh reality that she couldn't have another child herself, which made her wonder if Rhaegar would eventually set her aside for someone younger and more beautiful who could bear him all the children he desired. The thought of losing her beloved husband, the father of her children, to another woman who could provide him with what she could not was unbearable, and it left her feeling vulnerable

Elia dreaded the thought of being set aside, she knew their relationship wasn't perfect, but she knew she loved him, and she always believed that he loved her. The many times he had claimed he loved her, their beautiful children were more than enough proof of their love.

Eventually, she asked Rhaegar after two weeks if she could meet this Lyanna or, as he has started calling her, SheWolf. Despite his initial reluctance, Rhaegar eventually agreed, albeit with a stern warning not to harm her; Elia had simply told him that his precious Lyanna wouldn't be harmed.

She met her in the garden; it didn't take long for Elia to see Lyanna approaching her; With each step she took, the billowing folds of her white-blue dress, reminiscent of the icy winters of the North, seemed to glow in the sunlight, drawing Elia's eye towards her. As Lyanna drew nearer, Elia was able to make out the intricate stitching on the area around her chest, which depicted the sigil of House Stark - a snarling direwolf, fierce and unyielding.

Despite the way Lyanna walked, full of confidence, Elia had spent enough time in King's Landing to see that Lyanna was a bit tense, and especially when Lyanna's grey eyes met Elia's almost dark eyes. 

Lyanna's heart pounded as she approached Elia, the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but she refused to let her nerves show. With every step, Lyanna straightened her back and lifted her chin, reminding herself of her own worth and importance. When she finally stood before the princess, she paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts and summoning her courage. 

Then, with a graceful bow, Lyanna addressed Elia in a voice that rang out across the garden, "Your grace," she spoke, her words laced with respect and deference. Though the silence between them lingered for a moment longer, Lyanna stood tall and unflinching; her head held high like the true lady she was.

Looking at her from up close, she couldn't help but notice the intricate details of her delicate features. The soft curves of her face, the sparkle in her eyes, and the way her lips curved into a smile that could light up a room. It was evident to Elia that Rhaegar's infatuation with Lyanna was not just a fleeting attraction but a deep-rooted admiration for her beauty and strength. As Elia's gaze traveled down Lyanna's body, she noticed the subtle definition in her arms and hands. It was clear to her that Lyanna was not just a lady of the court who spent her days stitching and sipping tea. No, she was much more than that. Elia could tell she was wild, like Rhaegar claimed, a fighter.

Elia could feel the rage within her beginning to bubble up like a volcano on the verge of eruption. Her breathing became shallow and ragged as she clenched and unclenched her right hand, feeling the itch to use it as a weapon against the woman. She wanted to strike Lady Lyanna across the cheek with enough force to send her crashing to the ground, to carve into her flesh with the sharp ring that adorned her index finger. 

With a deep breath, Elia reminded herself of her heritage and her strength. "You're a Princess, you're Dornish," she whispered to herself, "you are unbowed, unbent, unbroken." The words of House Martell had been etched into her memory from a young age, a constant reminder of the resilience and determination that her people possessed. With renewed courage, Elia managed to restrain herself, letting the anger slowly fade away, but not completely. She knew that her House's words were more than just a motto, they were a way of life, and she would continue to live by them no matter what challenges came her way.

"You're Lyanna Stark," she spoke with enough courtesy to match her high-ranking position. Lyanna, in turn, offered Elia a warm smile, and the princess had to admit that the Northern Savage's smile was nothing short of beautiful.

Despite her initial reservations, Elia couldn't help but find herself intrigued by this woman who had captured the heart of her husband, Rhaegar. 

"Yes, your grace," Lyanna replied without missing a beat, her voice carrying a hint of mischief that Elia found both endearing and intriguing. 

"How did you meet, Rhaegar?" Elia asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer as they began to stroll through the lush garden, followed closely by a kingsguard. She wanted to know everything about the woman who had stolen Rhaegar's heart.

Elia listened as Lyanna told her why she had become the knight of the Laughing Tree, how she had only wanted to punish the squires that beat her friend and not to anger the King. Elia couldn't help but feel empathy for her, she had wanted to protect her friend's honor, and now she had a target on her back; if the king found out about her identity, Elia knew he would either humiliate her publicly or something even worse.

"You did the right thing, Lady Lyanna. You're brave." Elia complimented her, her hand resting on Lyanna's shoulder, hoping to ease her worries and make her feel more relaxed in her presence.

"Thank you, your grace," Lyanna said, looking at Elia; the latter smiled at the Lady.

Lyanna nodded and smiled back at her, "Do you want to talk about something else?" she asked with a smooth voice.

"Walk with me, and you can call me Elia," Elia suggested, her voice carrying an air of authority that was more like a gentle order than a request, and Lyanna acquiesced without complaint. She fell into step beside her friend, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet of the castle garden. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, and he took a few steps further back to give them more privacy to talk with each other.

Elia's voice broke the silence as she began to speak, her gaze fixated on a vibrant red flower that had sprouted on the side of a tall and angular bush. "Rhaegar spoke to me about you," she said softly, her tone both curious and contemplative as if lost in thought. She wanted to start a normal conversation; she noticed a brief blush on her cheeks at the mention of Rhaegar.

"Your gr... Elia," Lyanna stuttered out, her fear increasing, knowing she had taken a liking to the Crown Prince.

"What do you think about Rhaegar?" Elia asked, interrupting her, stopping her dead on track, and saw Lyanna looking away from her; she looked as if she wanted to disappear somewhere. 

Lyanna's voice quivered as she spoke, "I-I, he's a good man; I saw how he treated the children and gave them money, he's also very good at singing, and He likes how I am," she added, feeling a rush of excitement course through her veins. But in the back of her mind, Lyanna couldn't help but feel like a little girl in love instead of the proud wolf of House Stark that she was expected to be.

Elia giggled at her beautiful face. "I understand; in Dorne, we have women like you, who are warriors." Her voice was kind and gentle, yet she held a hint of excitement as she placed a vibrant red flower atop Lyanna's dark hair. The garden's sweet floral scent wafted around them as Elia took Lyanna's arm and led her on a leisurely stroll through the colorful foliage. The sun's warm rays danced on their faces, and the gentle breeze whispered secrets in their ears. Lyanna's heart raced as Elia's hand tightened around her arm, causing her to flinch slightly in fear. However, she managed to regain her composure and forced herself to relax, hoping Elia wouldn't suddenly order the knight to cut her open like a pig.

"What can you tell me about your family?" Elia's voice was soft and curious, a stark contrast to the cold and calculating tone of the southern nobility. Lyanna's surprise was evident on her face as she turned to face the future queen of Westeros. She had never expected someone of such high status to take an interest in her family, especially since the Southerners often viewed Northerners as nothing more than uncivilized savages. But Lyanna concluded that perhaps she could become friends with Elia.

"Well. I have three brothers...

Elia listened to everything Lyanna told her about her family; with a glimmer in her eye, Lyanna spoke of her favorite brother, Benjen, who was renowned for his mischievous nature and love of playing pranks on his siblings. Elia couldn't help but grin at the mental image of the youngest Stark boy causing chaos and laughter in equal measure, and she made a mental note to ask Lyanna for more stories about her family in the future. Eddard Stark, who was the quietest out of all of them. 

Elia remembered the name from her dear friend, Ashara; it had been a week now since Ashara couldn't stop talking about Eddard Stark, saying he was handsome and different from everyone else.

Lyanna's third and oldest brother, Elia, didn't really need Lyanna to tell her about Brandon; his reputation had already spread as 'The Wild Wolf' around Harrenhal, and Elia couldn't help but see the similarities between Brandon and Oberyn; both were hot-headed and loved to sleep around. Many ladies would gossip about Brandon, telling details about his activities in bed.

Then after Lyanna told her everything about her family, Elia told her about her own family, mainly Oberyn, her uncle, and a little about Doran.

"Maybe we can meet again tomorrow. We can drink tea," Elia suggested with a charming smile that Lyanna found quite beautiful.

"Or maybe we can go to ride," Lyanna suggested with a sly look, and Elia laughed in amusement. Lyanna looked at her, confused. After a good minute of laughter, Elia forced herself to stop, not wanting Lyanna to think she had suddenly lost it. 

"I'm sorry, Lyanna, yes, we can Ride; I like to ride too," Elia answered, still laughing a bit.

After telling them of their first meeting, Elia noticed Aemon was silent momentarily before finally opening his mouth to talk.

"She seems like quite a woman," Aemon said with pride in his voice; Aemon knew he couldn't change the past, but he still loved his mother; even if certain things could have been done differently, Elia couldn't help but agree with Aemon.

"Lya was a free spirit. She, indeed, was a Wolf." Elia said with melancholy; silence fell over them until Elia remembered something; she stood up from her chair and walked inside her bedchamber from the balcony; she searched around her things and soon found it hidden in a small locked box.

Elia carefully lifted the lid of the small box, revealing the precious item inside. It was the small but deadly dagger that Lyanna had given her many years ago. As she took the dagger out of the box, she couldn't help but marvel at the exquisite craftsmanship of the pommel, made from the bone of a fearsome direwolf, with the Stark sigil carved into it, a symbol of strength and courage. The blade itself was still as sharp as the day it was forged, glinting menacingly in the light as she turned it over in her hands. Elia walked back to Aemon, his eyes looking at the dagger she was holding in her small hands; he recognized the Stark sigil on the blade.

"Lyanna gave me this a long time. She said, 'I still don't know what you like, but I hope you like this dagger' and gave me this." Elia told Aemon, who stood up from his chair, Elia handed him the dagger, and he examined it closely, admiring the intricate details etched into the blade.

To Elia, the dagger was very similar to Rhaegar's Valyrian Dagger, except Lyanna's dagger wasn't made of Valyrian Steel, but it still was beautiful to look at.

"It's beautiful," Aemon spoke with a bright smile; he was surprised the dagger was still sharp after decades of not being used; looking back at Elia, Aemon decided to give it back to Elia, but she shook her head, refusing to take the dagger.

"I want you to have it, Aemon. I always kept this dagger close whenever I wanted to remember your mother, but now that you're here, with us. I want you to have it," Elia spoke with her welling up with tears, her hand resting on his shoulder.

"Thank you," He spoke with all the sincerity he could muster, expressing his profound appreciation for the kindness she had shown him. In response, Elia enveloped him in a warm embrace, holding him close as though he were her own son. Aemon was taken aback by the depth of emotion in her hug, feeling a sense of comfort and safety that he had experienced only with his grandmother. For a moment, he simply stood there, awash in a sea of emotions. Eventually, he found the strength to return her embrace, holding her tightly as tears began to stream down his face. At that moment, Elia lovingly caressed his shoulder, the same way she used to do with both Rhaenys and Aegon when they were younger.

Later - Aemon Targaryen

After his pleasant talk with Elia, Aemon thought of seeking out Arya and talking with her when Aegarax spoke to him, saying they needed to fly east, and from what he understood, Aemon knew they were flying around Storm's End.

For this reason, Aemon had called for Ghost, his great direwolf had quickly returned to him, and they rode towards Aegarax. Once they found him, Aemon saw Kessa bringing Aegarax a deer she had captured with her claws, dropping it near the Dragon.

The dragon ate half of the deer before nudging it closer to Kessa. The Northern Eagle didn't waste time to feast on their prey; Aemon petted her head before he and Aegarax took flight.

"How many dragons can you feel?" Aemon asked the moment they took to flight; as he and Aegarax soared through the skies, leaving a trail of mist behind them, he couldn't help but marvel at the endless expanse of clouds that stretched out before them. Despite the breathtaking view, he was acutely aware of the need to keep his dragon hidden from the prying eyes of those on the ground.

"Two. We won't get too close this time, and we shouldn't land. The last thing we need is another angry dragon for being in their territory." Aegarax spoke as he moved his massive wings beat against the air, sending a gust of wind rushing past them. The sun glinted off his shimmering scales, casting a dazzling display of light across the sky. Aegarax, with his keen eyesight, scanned the horizon for any signs of danger, knowing that they were in the heart of dragon territory.

After flying for an hour, Aemon suddenly noticed that his dragon was gradually descending toward the soft, fluffy clouds below. As they descended further, Aemon's eyes were drawn to the stunning sight of a series of jagged rock formations jutting out of the ocean near the shore. The rocks were bathed in golden light from the setting sun, casting long shadows across the water's surface.

"Around here," Aegarax spoke with a hint of caution as he kept flying in circles around the shore but not landing as he kept looking for the dragon.

Aemon kept looking below to the ground in hopes of finding the dragon; suddenly, a deafening rumble echoed through the sky, causing both Aemon and his dragon to freeze in their tracks. With bated breaths, they listened intently as the sound grew louder and closer until it seemed to be coming from just beyond the horizon. Aegarax pricked up his ears, too, sensing the imminent danger. As they both wheeled around in the air, they caught sight of a magnificent Silver Dragon hurtling towards them at breakneck speed, its majestic wings beating furiously against the wind.

"Silverwing!" Aemon Targaryen's voice echoed across the vast sky as he gazed in awe at the majestic dragon soaring beside them. Despite having ridden and seen a dragon countless times, Aemon could never contain his excitement upon encountering a new one. His heart raced with anticipation as he watched the dragon's powerful wings beat against the wind, creating a gust of air that ruffled his hair. Aegarax, sensing Silverwing's approach, began to descend, skillfully avoiding any potential collision. However, Silverwing followed them, gracefully gliding through the clouds with effortless ease, her scales shimmering in the sunlight.

"They're Two of them!" Aegarax growled as a second dragon emerged from the cave below, its scales glinting in the sunlight before spreading his wings and flying toward Aemon and Aegarax.

"That's Morning!" His eyes darted over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the pink-dark Dragon who was relentlessly chasing after them with a ferocious determination. But Aemon soon noticed that neither Silverwing nor Morning seemed to be chasing them with malicious intentions; they had yet to try and breathe fire at them.

As Aemon and Aegarax soared through the sky, his wings flapping with rhythmic precision, they soon found themselves ascending higher and higher above the clouds.

The sensation of the wind rushing past them was exhilarating, and Aemon couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as he gazed out at the seemingly endless expanse of white fluffiness that stretched out as far as the eye could see in every direction.

As they continued to fly, Aegarax's keen eyes scanned the cloudscape, searching for any signs of danger or adventure. Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a disturbance in the clouds, and before he could react, another dragon burst forth from the misty veil.

"Morning!" Aemon shouted above the rush of wind and the roar of the dragon's wings; Aemon and Aegarax were trying to fly away until Silverwing burst from another cloud, but they could see the dragons weren't attacking them; they were simply following them.

As Aemon and Aegarax soared through the skies, the vast expanse of the Riverlands stretched out beneath them, the sun setting in a blaze of orange and red on the horizon. After an hour of steady flight, Aemon could feel a sense of anticipation rising within him, drawing closer to Harrenhal. Meanwhile, Aegarax, the fierce dragon with shimmering scales of white like snow, was starting to feel the strain of flying for two hours straight, her powerful wings beating tirelessly against the thin air.

At that moment, both Morning and Silverwing parted ways, the young Targaryen prince looked over his shoulder as Silverwing found a good spot at the top of a hill, and Morning found a cave to hide in.

Looking around the land, Aemon knew they were around ten kilometers away from Harrenhal. He knew it was only a matter of time until Silverwing and Morning decided to visit Harrenhal. He just hoped they wouldn't attack anyone.

"I think they want to bond with someone, Aemon. But why now?" Aegarax questioned as he soon landed in his usual spot in the forest.

Aemon wasn't sure how to answer; if he could choose who from his family would get a dragon, he hoped his uncle wouldn't get one. He didn't like the way Viserys would often look at him sometimes. And Aemon knew Viserys had a lust for power; he just hoped that his mistrust was misplaced.

As Aemon leaped down from the towering height of his dragon, his thoughts were consumed with the excitement of tomorrow's grand spectacle. He knew that all eyes would be on him. Tomorrow I Will show you to everyone, Aemon said to Aegarax. With a sense of pride swelling in his chest, he landed firmly on the charred earth below, a testament to the fiery power of his loyal dragon companion.

"Do you think your father will want me chained?" Aegarax questioned with a growl, his purple eyes gazing at Aemon with seriousness unlike ever before, making it clear where his opinion stood on that matter.

Aemon had never talked with his dragon about chaining him because he knew it didn't matter. He would never agree to chain Aegarax. Never. Aemon walked up to his dragon; he reached out his hand, placing it gently on the creature's nose. Despite the intense heat radiating from the dragon's body and the sharpness of his scales, Aemon felt no fear or hesitation.

"You're ñuha raqiros. Kesan dōrī belmon ao. Sesīr lo se sīkuda Dārȳti issi against nyke. (You're my friend. I will never chain you. Even if the Seven Kingdoms are against me.)." Aemon promised to Aegarax, who leaned closer to Aemon, letting the young prince pet him; Aegarax let out a contented purring sound, enjoying his rider's attention, and Aemon smiled, feeling grateful for the bond they shared.

Later

After flying with Aegarax and encountering the two new dragons, Aemon was looking for Arya in the Northern Tents; it took around half an hour to reach the tents since Harrenhal was one of the largest castles in Westeros. He knew he hadn't spent time with her or anyone from House Stark for quite a few days; he knew today would be it, tomorrow the Jousting would start, and the truth would be revealed to everyone; Aemon knew as soon as the truth was revealed and Ned Stark was punished, he knew Arya would never want to see him again. He wouldn't be surprised if Robb would call him a traitor or something similar.

As Aemon made his way through the bustling campsite, the sounds of horses whinnying and swords clashing filled the air, creating a sense of anticipation and excitement. The sea of tents stretched out before him, each one a hub of activity as knights and lords prepared for the tourney ahead.

His eyes scanned the sea of fabric, searching for the telltale sign of the direwolf banner. And then he saw it, fluttering high above the rest, the flag of House Stark rippling in the wind like a beacon. Making his way toward it, Aemon pushed past merchants hawking their wares and knights in full armor until, finally, he arrived at the tent.

The guards smiled at Jon as he passed through; all of them held respect for the man who won the Melee.

Aemon briefly wondered what Val was doing, but he knew she was in safe hands with Rhaenys. He was hoping they would eventually become good friends and get to know each other better.

His musings were abruptly interrupted as he stepped inside and was met with the sight of the entire House Stark gathered around a large table, partaking in a hearty dinner. At the head of the table sat Lord Stark, his stern countenance softened by the warmth of the scene before him. As footsteps echoed through the tent from outside, the heads of the Stark family turned in unison to see who had entered. The flickering light of the candles cast shadows across the faces of the Stark family, and the aroma of roasted meat and freshly baked bread wafted through the air.

"JON!!" It was Arya who had spotted her dear half-brother, Jon Snow, entering the tent. Catelyn, who was taken aback by her daughter's sudden outburst, tried to scold her for disrupting the peaceful dinner, but Arya seemed to be in her own world, completely ignoring her mother's disapproval. Without any hesitation, the young and agile girl sprang up from her chair and dashed towards Jon, throwing herself at him and landing directly on his chest, where she held him in a tight embrace.

"Where have you been?" The fabric of his clothes slightly muffled her voice as she hugged him close, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. She had missed him terribly.

"I'm here, little sister," Jon said softly, kissing the top of her head; She hugged him even tighter, her small arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, and it seemed like she didn't want to let him go. Robb chuckled at the sight while Rickon looked fearful of Jon being there.

Eventually, Arya pulled away from him; Jon ruffled the top of her hair like he used to. Usually, she would be annoyed, but Arya seemed to want him to do that, especially the way she giggled.

Jon chuckled before his eyes turned to the others who had stood up to greet him; even Sansa seemed to want to greet him, she usually wanted to ignore him, but since Jon won the melee, her thoughts of Jon had changed.

"Jon, where have you been?" Ned asked, not sounding like a lord but more like a father concerned for his son, standing up from his wooden chair as Jon grabbed an extra chair and placed it near the table they were eating dinner and sitting on the table with them.

Ned knew where his nephew had been; it didn't take long to realize that the Royal Family had found out the truth; knowing his nephew had found his family, Ned found joy in it; he just hoped that Queen Rhaella would keep her promise to him. His eyes flickered at each family member, knowing this was the last day he would have with them. For this reason, he made sure to spend as much time as possible with all of them.

"In the forest with Ghost and Kessa," Jon answered; as a servant brought him food, they soon started where they left off; Arya and Bran were asking Jon about the Melee, and even Robb seemed curious enough.

"Jon, is it true that you have sparred with the Kingsguards?" Sansa suddenly questioned from her seat as she leaned forward from her chair, looking at Jon in a new way, the same way she used to look at him when they were children, back when Sansa still thought of Jon as her brother instead of the 'bastard half-brother.'

"I have, with Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur," Jon answered with a half-smile towards Sansa, whose eyes brightened up, while Catelyn looked like she had just swallowed something sour, her face going slightly red from anger. Despite the hostility emanating from Lady Catelyn, Jon couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the reaction he had elicited.

"What is Ser Barristan like?" he asked, with a hint of curiosity in his voice. He had heard stories of the gallant knight's bravery and valiant deeds, and he couldn't help but wonder if they were true. As he waited for Jon's response, he took another bite of the bread, causing a momentary pause in the conversation as he almost choked on it. "Does he need a squire?" Bran added, hoping to learn more about the knight's daily routine and perhaps even offer his services.

Jon chuckled at his little brother's eagerness before he reached for his spoon and scooped up a mouthful of the savory broth, savoring the earthy taste of the carrots and the burst of flavor from the different vegetables that had been expertly blended together.

"Perhaps I can introduce you to him," Jon suggested, a sly smile creeping across his face. "I'm sure Ser Barristan would be happy to have a new squire." The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment as Bran's mind raced with the possibilities. Ser Barristan was his hero, his favorite member of the Kingsguard, and the thought of being his squire was a dream come true. Bran felt a gasp escape his lips before he could even process the words, and he looked up at Jon with a mixture of gratitude and amazement.

"Have you seen anyone from the Royal Family?" Robb asked indifferently, but knowing Sansa would like to have an opportunity to meet anyone from the Royal Family.

"I have." Jon's answer was short; Sansa gasped in shock while Catelyn's face turned even redder from anger.

He is making friends everywhere! I knew it. The bastard is gaining valuable allies to make it easier when he decides to take Winterfell from Robb, Catelyn thought; her fury boiled inside her as she glared at him, her eyes burning holes in his back. She tightened her grip around the fork, feeling the metal slowly deform under her strength. She knew she had to keep her cool and not let him see how much he was getting under her skin.

"What was Prince Aegon like?" Sansa asked with a dreamy look; Jon resisted the urge to scoff at her; his brother deserved much more than a lady who lived in the clouds, thinking the South was a place full of good knights, good ladies, flowers and rainbows, a part of him was grateful that Aegon was already betrothed to Lady Margaery Tyrell, while Jon didn't know her personally, he hoped she was better than Sansa.

"He looks like a Prince, he's good with a sword, and he knows how to talk." Jon didn't say much, not wanting to make it obvious to everyone that he knew him personally.

Sansa seemed like she wanted to ask more questions when Arya asked something. "Where's Val?" only now she noticed that Jon's wife hadn't come with him; she hoped Val and Jon were still getting along with each other. Arya liked Val's wild spirit, and it was a breath of fresh air compared to Sansa's annoying existence.

"She's with Ghost. She said she needed to rest," Jon answered vaguely; Arya accepted the answer before she started eating her dinner. The rest of the dinner went well; Arya and Bran asked Jon questions about The Melee and who he wanted to crown as Queen of Love and Beauty.

"There's only one woman that deserves the crown," Jon told Arya; Sansa silently pouted at her seat, knowing Jon was talking about Val and not her. Despite being a bastard, Sansa wouldn't have minded if Jon had given her the Crown of Blue Flowers; she knew Domeric would be impressed; She couldn't wait to meet him again, to feel his soft lips on hers once more and taste the sweetness of his kiss. As she waited, his haunting melody played over and over in her mind, the notes weaving together in a beautiful tapestry that made her heart dance with joy. Even though they had only just met, Sansa felt a deep connection with him, a sense that they were meant to be together.

Ned sat comfortably on his chair and leaned back, taking in the beautiful sight in front of him. His loving gaze wandered over his entire family, each one of his children beaming with happiness and contentment.

His heart swelled with pride as he watched his wife, Catelyn, engage in a lively conversation with their daughter, Sansa, who had grown into a beautiful and intelligent young woman. As Ned sat there, surrounded by the people he cherished the most in this world, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude. This moment, where all was right with the world, was one he wished could last forever. He wished he could freeze time and never let this moment end. All of them were happy and together; he watched Arya laugh at something Jon told her while Bran was bugging Robb about something.

Ned gazed at the sight before him, his heart overflowing with emotions that were threatening to spill out in the form of tears. His eyes welled up with unbridled joy and a sense of gratitude as he looked upon the most beautiful sight he had ever seen - his family, all together and happy, sharing a meal and relishing each other's company. The aroma of the sumptuous dinner wafted through the air, tantalizing his senses, and the sound of his loved ones' laughter filled his heart with warmth and contentment; for a moment, he could almost see Ashara and Alyanna being there with them—all the people he loved.

Ned looked away as he forced himself not to spill tears; for now, he wanted nothing more than to enjoy the last moment of his family together and be happy.

Tomorrow - Ned Stark

The morning started like every other morning, but Ned Stark knew this day would change everything for the entire realm. Before they went to watch the Jousting, House Stark gathered to break their fast together; Jon had left last night after the dinner, much to Arya's disappointment.

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, sat with his family at the breakfast table, eagerly anticipating the end of their fast. As the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon filled the tent, Eddard cleared his throat, causing all conversation to cease and every head to turn towards him. With a solemn expression on his face, he rose to his feet, the legs of his wooden chair scraping against the soft carpet, and began to speak.

"My family. I just wanted to tell everyone today that I'm happy for all of you." His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. "I am Happy and Proud. I love you all so Dearly. Remember always to Stand Together. Always remember what I used to tell all of you. When the snow falls, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Those words are important to all of you." Ned finished with a genuine smile, his eyes burning from the tears threatening to roll down his cheek.

Robb wanted to ask his father what was happening; everyone was looking at Ned with concern when Ser Rodrik entered the tent. "My Lord, the Jousting will start now."

As they walked outside the tent, Ned's feet touched the soft ground, and he felt a sudden lightness in his step as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. The feeling was so liberating that he couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh. However, as he gazed up at the sky, he couldn't ignore the distant rumble of thunder echoing in the distance, despite the clear blue expanse above them.

I hope You have enjoyed the Chapter. Let me know what you think about it in the Comments.