6 A cruel sense of Humor

Hello Everyone!

Chapter 7 : 'Princesses and Past Sins.'

Chapter 8 : 'Brothers'

Chapter 9 : 'Two sides of the Same Coin

Chapter 10 : 'The Sea Snake and The Queen Who Never Was.'

Chapter 11 : 'A Disgusting Duty'

Chapter 12 : 'The Monster of Dragonstone'

Chapter 13: 'Bastard'

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'GnawedBones', such had become Ser Harwin Strong's nickname among the common folk once news of his death had spread like wildfire. It took a great deal of effort for Jon not to laugh when he had heard it from a bunch of servants. He couldn't help but being very proud of himself.

He remembered everything, every sensation, every feeling when he had ripped his sister's lover's flesh with his many jaws. The screams and the cries for help, the fear and the horror in his eyes… Jon would remember this his whole life, he knew he would never regret it.

As he walked through the corridors towards the training ground with Ser Criston by his side, he realized that he was in excellent spirits. His young age and small body had prevented him from making significant changes since his rebirth, now though, his secret ability would allow him to become an actual player of the Game of Thrones -as his grandfather had called it-, one that no one would be suspicious of for perhaps a decade.

As he was walking with a light head and a big smile, a scream of agony destroyed his good mood and alerted his senses.

Ser Criston immediately put his hand on his sword's hilt, however, when a second scream was heard, he released his weapon as Jon's eyes grew larger. Both had identified the screamer.

"Rhaenyra…" Jon whispered as he spurned around. "Where is she?"

"My prince," Ser Criston rose a hand to appease him, "There is no need for you to worry, I believe your half-sister has simply gone into her labours."

If the Kingsguard expected the young boy to be reassured or to be dismissive regarding this piece of news, he was sorely mistaken, for Jon immediately started to panic.

"Where is she?!" He demanded.

"In her chambers I suppose, my Prince, but…"

Jon did not wait for him to finish his sentence as he started running towards his sister's chambers like his life was depending on it.

Ser Criston was unfortunately too cluttered by his armor to keep his pace, he tried calling for him but was ignored, Jon could only hear his sister's screams.

It didn't take long for him to reach Rhaenyra's doorstep, yet two new obstacles appeared in front of him with their white cloaks and wary looks.

"My Prince." Ser Harrold Westerling greeted with a nod. "There is nothing for you to worry about, you sister is simply giving birth…"

"Rhaenyra?!" Jon screamed at the door, ignoring the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. "Are you okay?! Can I do something for you?! Rhaenyra?!"

Ser Harrold's look grew stern, he placed a firm hand on the door to bar its entrance to the six year old.

"My Prince," He said with a severe voice. "There is nothing you can do but wait, a woman's labours are not men's business."

Jon's face contorted in rage, surprising the knight who had never seen him like that. The Targaryen Prince was no Maester nor midwife, but he had heard his mother give birth to Aemond and she had not screamed like Rhaenyra had. Once again, The heiress to the Iron Throne's pain echoed across the corridors, Jon's rage swapped for horror in a second.

"Open this door!" He commanded with all the strength and authority he could muster. "Now!"

"I cannot do that, my Prince." Ser Harrold said, remaining firm.

"Lord Commander!" Ser Criston called as he had finally caught up with his charge. "This is our Prince."

"No one is to enter those chambers by order of the King." Ser Harrold replied, his patience running thin. "Not even the Prince or the Queen, Ser Criston."

The stormlander bit his tongue, obviously frustrated, he chose to focus on Jon.

"My Prince, there is nothing you can do, let us leave and wait until your half-sister is done with her labours."

"I. Don't. Want to leave!" Jon screamed with fury. "I want to stay here! My sister needs me! I… I…"

He put his forehead on the door, tears of fear started to shine in his closed eyes, his breath was getting heavier, his heart was pounding in his chest, he could almost hear Ghost's desperate cries.

"Nyra… I love you… Please… let me help you… Please…"

Upon hearing his words, Ser Harrold's iron will bent slightly as he finally realized his prince's distress. The man he was would have allowed the boy access to the Princess' chambers, but the knight had his orders, and a duty to uphold. Nevertheless, Ser Harrold's opinion regarding his Prince had risen higher than his mother's lineage.

He would have kept his arm on the door for hours had it not been opened by a young midwife.

Jon almost fell to the ground, but he immediately stood up, his eyes filled with worry.

"The Princess wishes to see her brother." The young woman politely informed the Kingsguards. "No one else is to enter."

There was no word to describe the relief that had appeared on Jon's face, without wasting a second, he jumped inside the room and froze as the midwife closed the door behind him.

Rhaenyra's bedsheets were stained with her blood, the midwives around were blurting instructions that Jon did not even hear for he was too horrified by what his sister was going through. But he was the blood of the Dragon, the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, and more importantly, Rhaenyra's brother, he could not let fear and horror possess him.

He rushed by his sister's side and took her hand, the palm was sweaty, as was the Realm's Delight's face and hair, she was crying in pain and her breath was erratic, she was scared.

"Nyra?" He called as he climbed on the bed to kneel near his sister's face. "It's okay, I'm here, you'll be fine."

Slowly, Rhaenyra opened her tired eyes, blinked several times to get rid of her tears, and looked at her little brother's worried face. She could not believe that he was here.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her voice was weak, she was exhausted.

"I…I heard you screaming…" Jon whispered back as he felt his heart beating in his chest. "I was so worried…"

She couldn't prevent a small smile from appearing on her face, her lovable little brother, the only one who never give up on her.

"I'm… so sorry… for slapping you…"

"It's okay!" He almost screamed. "I forgot about it…"

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to say more, but the pain came back and shook her body, once again, she screamed in agony.

"Princess!" The oldest midwife called. "You must focus, you are not done yet!"

The Targaryen Princess answered with another cry as Jon squeezed her hand as hard as he could.

"It's okay Nyra, you can do it."

"I-I don't want to die like my mother…" Rhaenyra's voice was filled with terror.

"You're not going to die!" Jon declared stubbornly. "You'll give birth, then you'll take a bath."

Despite her situation, she laughed a little.

"Don't laugh." He mockingly chastised her. "You really reek, Nyra."

This time, an authentic giggle escaped the young woman's throat, she reopened her eyes to gently cuff her little brother.

"I'll drown you in that bath once I'm done." She warned with a smile.

"You need to be done first." Jon replied as he smiled back. "Come on Nyra, you can do this."

Rhaenyra took a long and deep breath as she found renewed strength in the boy's encouragements, then she waited a second for the midwife's signal and started pushing again.

The pain was agonizing, her cries were torture to Jon's ears, but he never let her hand go. No matter how hard she was crushing his.

After a hour of work, one of the midwives suddenly exclaimed:

"The head!"

"One last push, Princess!" The oldest warned.

"You're almost done, Nyra…" Jon whispered. "Come on."

Rhaenyra mustered what little strength she had left, and pushed as hard as she could while letting out an authentic battle cry. Her brother heard a disgusting sound coming from her crotch but remained focus on her face.

Then… a baby's cry echoed in the room as a midwife chirped in delight.

"It's a boy, Princess! A healthy strong little prince!"

A groan of exhaustion escaped Rhaenyra's mouth as she reopened her eyes and sat up straight with Jon still by her side. The umbilical cord was cut and the baby wrapped up in a blanket before it was brought to her. As she laid eyes on it for the first time in her life, she burst into tears of joy. Her baby, her son, her heir, the one she had carried for so long and suffered so much to obtain, was finally in her arms. She held him close, and gently rocked him in order to calm his cries and reassure him.

As she did so, she missed Jon's look.

Jon had always known what kind of baby would come out of his sister's womb, and he had been ready to love him all the same… yet… this feeling… he couldn't describe it… that knot in his stomach when he saw those brown hair of his. It reminded him of everything. The Dance that was coming, Harwin Strong's unbearable boasting, his fath… Viserys' disinterest towards him and his siblings other than Rhaenyra… All of this for a bastard…

Jon shook his head, the babe was not at fault and the father had paid for his sin. Jon was now an uncle, and he needed to act like it.

"What's his name?" He asked, using his childish voice.

Rhaenyra rose her head to look at her little brother, without warning, she wrapped an arm around his neck and held him close.

"Thank you…" She whispered as she was crying one his shoulder. "Thank you so much, Jonothor, I couldn't have done this without you…"

"Of course you could, I just wanted to be here for you."

Rhaenyra held him tighter, his words brought her the comfort she had so desperately needed since Harwin's death. After what she had done to him, she never expected him of all people to support her in her life's biggest trial. No one else had done it.

"So, what is his name?" Jon asked again.

"Jacaerys. Jacaerys Velaryon. That is his name."

Her brother frowned when he heard this.

"But he is going to sit on the Iron Throne one day." He pointed out. "Shouldn't his name be Targaryen?"

"He will take the Targaryen name once he sits on the Throne, but until then, his name will be…"

She paused as she felt something coming from her guts, she let out a groan of panic and quickly passed her babe to her brother in order to get up.

"Is it the afterbirth?" A midwife inquired.

The only answer she got was the stream of blood that the Targaryen Princess expelled from her body and poured out on the floor. She put her hand on a piece of furniture to stay up as a new wave of pat came to irradiate her body.

Jon only watched in petrified abhorrence as his sister was going through another of childbirth's trial, he was very glad he hadn't been born -nor reborn- into a woman.

While the midwives helped supporting Rhaenyra through her endeavor, Jon lowered his head to look at Jacaerys.

The babe had stopped crying, and had now opened his brown eyes for the first time, he was staring at his young uncle. Jon felt something strange gnawing his guts, was it guilt? It could be, after all, the Targaryen Prince had murdered that baby's father, and here he was holding him in his arms. He was conflicted, he did not regret making Harwin pay for his sins. Moreover, he had to prevent that swine from impregnating his sister with more bastards of his, but to orphan a child who had yet to be born, his own nephew, there was nothing he could think of that would ease the guilt on his mind. Jon gently rubbed the baby's cheek, secretly apologizing for what he had done to him, and for not nearly feeling as sorry as he should feel.

For the first time in years, Jon thought of his brother Robb, murdered at the Twins with his wife and unborn child by the Freys. Had Robb won the war, Jon would have became an uncle far sooner, he wondered what his nephew or niece would have looked like. He wondered if he was no better than a Frey…

No he was not, Jon had murdered Harwin to protect Rhaenyra and Jacaerys. A bastard, that child was, but his blood he would always be, and since Jon had taken his father from him, then he would atone, to protect his pack.

As Rhaenyra was slowly regaining her strength, hasty footsteps were heard from the other side of the door, the next second, Viserys Targaryen entered with a big smile on his face.

"I've just been told, a boy I heard!" The King said, his tone filled with joy.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his son, and frowned with confusion.

"Jonothor, what are you doing here?"

"He's been helping me, father." Rhaenyra was quick to answer despite her fatigue. "He stayed by my side until my labours ended."

This explanation did not have the expected effect, as Viserys' look towards his oldest son turned severe.

But once again, Rhaenyra was quick to speak:

"Please Father, do not be too harsh on him. Jonothor's support was crucial for Jacaerys' birth, I am glad my little brother stayed by my side."

Viserys exchanged a quick look with his daughter, and let out a short sigh.

"Very well, Jonothor, you will not be punished, but do not do this again. A woman's labours are not men's business."

"Well, it should be." Jon defended as he was gently rocking his nephew. "Isn't it our fault in the first place if women have to go through this?"

The young midwives present in the room chuckled at the audacity of their prince, the oldest merely shook her head with a well hidden grin on her face.

"The little prince is braver and smarter than most men ten times his age." She acknowledged.

While everyone in the room was chuckling or smiling, Viserys' expression had turned grim as he remembered the last time he had been there for a woman's labours. He felt like someone's hand had pierced his chest to press his heart like a lemon.

Rhaenyra went back to sit on the bed, and took Jacaerys from her brother's little arms. Jon sat beside her to keep looking at his nephew.

"I think he is an albino." He said all of a sudden. "He has brown hair and brown eyes."

Rhaenyra's joy evaporated in a second, and she froze as if time itself had frozen. She forced herself to smile despite the dread she was feeling.

"That is more than likely the case." She quickly answered as her father was calmly walking towards them.

"May I meet my grandson?" He asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

Rhaenyra kept smiling, no matter how hard it was for her as she handed her son to his grandfather. Viserys carefully brought him to his face, examining him with a criticizing look, hopping not to see what his son had seen. But his prayers felt into deaf ears as he realized Jonothor had been right, that child could not be Laenor's. His daughter and heir had given birth to a bastard, a slight, a mistake.

For a second, Viserys felt a crushing pressure on his shoulders, how could the Gods be so cruel? How could his daughter be so naive? What had he done to deserve this? He had killed Aemma, the answer came to him so quickly that his pressure was washed away by a wave of sadness. Of course, everything made sense now. He needed to pay for his sin, he who had murdered his wife to realize a dream… Perhaps… perhaps this was his chance at redemption! A boy… a prince of his blood and Aemma's! Perhaps it was he who was supposed to sit on the Iron Throne! It made perfect sense! Viserys suddenly felt an eruption of joy from inside his very heart, he had waited for so long, sacrificed so much, but here he was! His perfect little prince! The one he had been expecting for so long!

The King of the Seven Kingdoms felt tears of joy run down his cheeks as he kissed his grandson's forehead. Finally… finally his dream was coming true.

"A fine prince," he said in delight. "Sturdy, he will make a fearsome knight."

Rhaenyra's sigh of relief did not escape Jon, who, at this point, was not even surprised by Viserys' reaction. He should have expected it, the King would protect Rhaenyra no matter what happened, something about this rubbed him the wrong, for he was a trueborn prince, yet, the man supposed to be his very own father seemed to love a bastard more than him. The Gods had a cruel sense of humor.

(-)(-)(-)

Jon neglected his duties for the rest of the day in order to lock himself in his room to think, surprisingly, no one reprimanded him for that. Maybe people were to busy celebrating the birth of their new prince to care, or perhaps, people acknowledged the fact that supporting his sister during her labours had taken a toll on him. Jon had needed to be alone, to think about what was about to happen. Gods, he hated Viserys, he had hated him for what he was doing to his mother, hated him for the way he neglected his siblings besides Rhaenyra. Those words he had said, his reaction towards Jacaerys, Gods! Jon would have killed to have Lord Stark acting this way towards him, but at the same time, he simply could not even begin to imagine what Robb would have felt had their father neglected his trueborn son for his bastard… Jon did not know what to think, he did not care about the Iron Throne, he had no wish to rule, he genuinely loved Rhaenyra. Then why, why did it hurt so much?

Someone knocked on the door, pulling him out of his thoughts, Jon shook his head and yawned.

"Come in."

Jon should have expected his mother to visit him, she seemed to always know when something is wrong with him. He welcomed her embrace with a sigh of relief.

"Jonothor," she whispered as she lovingly rubbed his cheek with her thumb, "What possessed you to enter Rhaenyra's chambers as she was giving birth?"

"I just wanted to help her, you did not scream that loud when you gave birth to Aemond, I assumed something was wrong."

Alicent let out a long tired sigh, how could she be mad at her little boy for simply being her little boy?

"Please don't do that again, Jonothor. This was not something that one as young as you should have seen."

"Yes mother, but I didn't see much; I focused on Rhaenyra, she looked like she was in a great deal of pain and she was terrified. I wanted to be there for her."

"I know, sweetling." She whispered. "All the handmaidens and midwives have been praising you for your dedication. But you don't need to grow up too fast, Jonothor, there are things that a six years old should not do or see. Why do you wish to always do more than what seems to be necessary?"

"Because no one else does." A frustrated Jon replied. "Father doesn't, Rhaenyra doesn't, Ser Laenor doesn't do anything. I feel like I have to do everything because everyone else is neglecting everything. You are the only one who tries, but you have Aegon, Aemond and Helaena to raise. It's like we are two different families…"

Jon cursed himself as soon as those words left his mouth, his frustration and childish behavior were getting the best of him. He should be promoting unity, not division.

Alicent simply sighed one more time.

"Perhaps you are not far from the truth, my sweet. And with this child's birth, it is now clear that Viserys and Rhaenyra have other priorities than this family's stability or the Realm's."

Jon frowned when he heard that, not that he disagreed though.

"What do you mean?"

Alicent gave him a long hesitating look, perhaps she was wondering if telling her six years old boy what she was thinking now, would be a good thing or a bad thing. For she had no wish to instill doubt in his mind, she had no wish to see him unhappy or struggling with things that only adults should be struggling with.

"Jonothor… this child, Jacaerys, he is no albino…"

"He is a bastard, I know."

Alicent's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

"You do!?"

"Aye, I do, I just had no wish to wrong my nephew for the sins of his parents. It's not his fault… He is just a babe…"

The Queen almost slapped her forehead, she should have seen this coming.

"Jonothor… I understand that you are trying to protect your sister and her child… but don't you see that you are being robbed? Rhaenyra is passing her bastard as a true born prince of Velaryon blood. She wants to place her bastard boy on the Iron Throne while you, a true born prince and the King's firstborn son, will be…"

"Mother, please, I don't want the Throne."

And he did not want to talk about it either, he just wanted to enjoy his mother's embrace for as long as he could.

Alicent wondered if she should push the subject, but ultimately decided to drop it, for now at least. Jonothor was six, she would not put more pressure on his tiny shoulders, his burden seemed heavy enough.

"What do you want then, sweeting?"

"To live a long and peaceful life with my family." He answered truthfully.

Alicent smiled at his words and held him tighter.

"This family is very lucky to have you, Jon."

Jon melted in her embrace and let his frustration and fear being washed away by his mother's love.

"I am very lucky to have you." He whispered

Those simple genuine words were more than enough to ease Alicent's own anger and frustration, as well as all the violent emotions she had felt since she saw Jacaerys' hair.

Rhaenyra could keep her damn bastard, Alicent wouldn't trade Jon for anything. The Seven had granted her a perfect son, the Realm would never be as blind as Viserys.