4 Growth

Growing up a second time had been a more than a welcomed experience for Jon. Back when he was the Bastard of Winterfell, he had been forced, multiple times, to hold back against Robb during their sparring sessions; a necessary sacrifice to protect himself from Lady Catelyn's wrath and to prevent Robb from any potential humiliation. Indeed, Jon had always looked more Stark than Robb, had he bested him, all the Northern Lords would have had questioned Robb's ability to lead them. Therefore, Jon had had to hold back, for both their sakes. But Jonothor Targaryen had no such restraints. As soon as he was able to hold a stick properly, he found his way to the training yard with Ser Criston as his personal instructor and threw himself in his lessons. Since his first day, Ser Criston Cole had always praised him for his natural talent and his perfect concentration, he genuinely admitted he had never seen such potential in a boy as young as Jon, and Gods, did it feel good to finally be praised for your skills and hard work.

Of course, the blade was not the only thing Jon refined during his early childhood, as a Targaryen Prince, his mastery of the Valyrian tongue had to be perfect. Therefore, he spent many moons studying day and night to honor his new status… and his mother.

Jon's dedication to everything he did was almost entirely fueled by his mother's love and encouragements, she was always quick to praise, help and comfort him every time he needed it. At first, Jon had thought that it was normal for a mother to do such things, and that was why he had been so jealous of Robb in his previous life. But as he grew at Court surrounded by septas and ladies of all kinds, he ended up knowing better; ladies, no matter the birth, were expected to produce as many children as they could, be pious, honor their husbands, raise their children… And that was it… that was it. Jon… he really couldn't wrap his head around this. How could southerners treat their wives and daughters like that? Was that what Sansa had dreamed about during their childhood? To be a trophy and a baby-oven? No northern woman nor woman of the Free Folk would ever accept being treated that way. And Jon's mother was the greatest woman of both his lives, he could not believe for a second that this situation made her happy. That pushed him into being a far better student than he had ever been, for he wanted to find the root of this stupid notion, and he did: the Faith of the Seven.

Reading the Book of the seven pointed star had been a real trial for Jon, for he had absolutely detested almost everything that was written inside it. Not for the first time, he was very grateful for his time among the Free Folk, that had given him the skill to always question whatever people considered to be common knowledge. This book, in Jon's eyes, was pure hypocrisy put on paper. No lords nor King he had ever met, had dutifully followed the precepts of the Gods. Yet they all insisted (if not commanded) that their wives and daughters conform to the ideal image given by the Mother and the Maiden. If Jon had been repulsed by this, then he had not been ready for the passage on bastards. He had spent… countless nights, wondering why Lady Catelyn had hated him the way she did, why she had been so obsessed by his presence, why she had been so scared of him!

According to the Faith of the Seven, bastards were fiends born out of lust and cursed by the Gods for not being conceived in a holy union. Any woman who sires a bastard has dishonored her family -especially their father- and must repent, and any bastard must be treated like a walking sin to atone for their father's sin, otherwise, they would grow greedy and heartless and destroy their families for their own gain. No wonder Lady Catelyn had been so afraid of him, she had been taught her entire life that he was a fiend that would take over Winterfell and refuse to atone for his father's sin. Considering the fact that her life's sole purposes were siring children, praying and running a household when her husband or the steward were undisposed, it's no wonder he was the most terrifying thing in her perfect little world. And it's no wonder Sansa had believed the same… What a load of bullshit, half the population of King's Landing were bastards born out of lust and rape, a lot of them were from highborns, the women and children were victims of the men's lust and had to atone for the sins of men. Lord Stark had the decency to atone for his sin by raising Jon alongside his trueborn siblings, that's how a man is supposed to act!

Jon had outright discarded the Faith of the Seven for the grotesque lie it was, it's purpose was to indoctrinate small folk and women alike. There was nothing holy and divine in this damn book. Though, he wasn't stupid enough to not see it's usefulness on the masses. He would stay true to the Old Gods at least, thankfully, the Hightowers were first men that had resisted the Andal Invasion thousands of years ago, there were worst ancestors to have. But his questionable faith could not be known, otherwise, it could very well undo everything Jaehaerys did during his rule. His mother though… She firmly believed in the Faith, or she was rather desperate to believe in it, to find comfort knowing that all her sacrifices were not for nothing, that she was doing her duty wonderfully, and that she would be rewarded for her endeavors. Because of all of this, her children - and Jon more than the others- were her only source of pride and joy. She didn't seem to have friends, the ladies she spent her days with were more interested in court business than they were interested in her.

Jon did not know what to do, except perhaps being as good as he could to make her happy, spend as much time with her and his siblings as he could to make her smile, and dedicate himself to protect her from his… from King Viserys.

That was a man that Jon hated, not because he was an evil person, but because he was a selfish man, a terrible King and a worse husband and father. Viserys spent his days sculpting his model of Old Valyria, organizing feasts and tourneys, and doing whatever he could to please as many lords as he could. Jon didn't know much about ruling the Realm, but he had read a book about King Jaehaerys' rule, so he was pretty sure there was more to it than tourneys and feasts. Lord Stark had raised all of his children as equally as he could, including Jon, but Viserys only seemed to be interested in Rhaenyra. Lord Stark had honored his wife despite the fact that she was supposed to marry his brother, but Viserys…

One night, while Alicent was reading a story to his siblings and him, a handmaiden had come inside her chambers, and informed the Queen that her husband had required her presence. She dutifully -yet sadly- left, and when she came back, Jon had pretended to be asleep, he only caught a glimpse of his mother's expression but he would never forget her face.

She had looked… dead. Her eyes had been lifeless, her skin had been pale, her hands had been shaking.

She had been raped… there was no other words to describe what had happened to her. And a few weeks later, she ended up pregnant with her fourth child. Nine months later, Aemond Targaryen had been born.

Jon hated Viserys Targaryen for this, he was not a bad man, but he was unable to realize that he was harming his wife, using her for his own reliefs. And Jon did not know how to protect her… for he was only six years old, and he could only watch the events from afar and prepare for adulthood as best as he could.

Jon did not know how things had escalated this quickly in barely three years, Rhaenyra and him had grown distant since the day their uncle had returned from his war in the Stepstones. Apparently, their father's words for her during the feast had left a scare in the Princess' heart, and despite Jon's best efforts, she would not spend nearly as much time with him as she used to. Worse, she never looked half as happy as she used to.

Jon remembered her marriage to Laenor Velaryon as a miserable event, his older sister had looked sadder than he had ever seen her. He suspected that Ser Criston was to blame for this… Those two, who used to be as thick as thieves, had grown into distant ennemies in the blink of an eye. This was confirmed when the Kingsguard killed Ser Joffrey Lonmouth during the tournament that followed the wedding. Ser Laenor had been inconsolable that day. Which proved the futur King Consort's preferences regarding his bed companions, and increased Jon's worry regarding the legitimacy of the child his older sister was carrying.

Rhaenyra had been pregnant for eight months, and the Realm, Lord Corlys and King Viserys had rejoiced at the news. The only ones who hadn't were the Queen, Jon, and surprisingly enough, the Princess Rhaenys. Laenor had boasted at the soon to be born child that would be given to him, he had even claimed that the child would be named Joffrey, should it be a boy. But Lord Corlys had denied him. Ser Laenor's happy mood was reassuring to Jon, but he couldn't help but remember the lessons from Maester Luwin. Rhaenyra Targaryen had given birth to three bastard boys dark of hair, supposedly sired by Ser Harwin Strong of the Gold Cloaks. The eldest son of Alicent Hightower had noticed what could be interpreted as mutual affection between the knight and his half-sister, and even if he was still very much worried about the child to be born, he was even angrier at Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin. Breakbones was the heir to Harrenhall, he had been at Court for as long as Jon could have remembered, if Rhaenyra had wanted him to be the father of her children, why didn't she marry him? Unfortunately, he had spoken so little with her within the past three years that he was unable to guess her thoughts.

Jon had so many things to do… so many things to think about… His new family was so divided that he couldn't please someone without angering someone else. Every time Ser Criston or the Grand Maester praised him for his skills and intelligence, his mother had smiled at him, the young lads present at court had looked at him in awe, and Rhaeyra had glared at him.

Jon couldn't possibly understand why… He was child, he was her brother, how could she act that way? Would she have been happier had he been born a simpleton? Did she really expect him to be a threat of some kind simply because he was studious and skilled in the yard? Rhaenyra was even angrier when rumors about his dutifulness regarding his younger siblings had started to spread. The ladies, handmaidens, ladies in waiting and kitchen maids all marveled at his natural ability to be a big brother. The majority of the women of the Red Keep kept talking about his perfect behavior towards Queen Alicent, and his dutifulness at relieving and easing his mother's duties by distracting, playing and consoling his siblings. Those rumors wouldn't have been so bad had people not started to compare him to his father and sister. His siblings' handmaidens had found a way to say that he was a better father than King Viserys, how in the world have they come to that conclusion? Better yet, why were they denying his mother's deeds when earned? Not that Alicent wasn't given any credit, -after all, some handmaidens had claimed to have seen the Mother herself when she took a nap with Jonothor in her arms during her third pregnancy-, but Jon felt that his mother deserved more than half of the praises that had been given to him regarding his siblings. Because of his duties, she spent more time with them that he.

However… Alicent's portrait of the perfect mother was more than slightly stained because of Aegon's behavior.

Once upon a time, Jon had thought of Robb as his twin, even after they learned what the word 'bastard' meant. Aegon and him were real twins, born the same day, yet they couldn't be more different. And Jon blamed himself a little for that.

Egg was a normal child compared to him, he never had a past life filled with lessons, training and knowledge. So when Jon was declared a prodigy by the entire Court, many were disappointed when Aegon had not shown the same talent. At the beginning, Jon had tried to protect his twin from casual cruelty, he trained with him, studied with him and even encouraged him as much as he could to prevent him from drowning in his shadow. But all of his efforts were for naught when a young lady mistook Aegon for Jon and expressed her disappointment towards the so-called 'prodigy'. Since that day, Egg had been fiercely jealous of his older twin, no matter how hard Jon tried to fix their relationship, his first brother never moved past his bitterness. The fact that he was considered the 'lesser twin' had torn his heart appart, and not even their mother could mend his wound, for her second had realized that her too, favored Jon over him. Jon had his hair cut short to make sure that people never mistook them again, but Aegon mistook this for a petty act of arrogance motivated by selfishness. Indeed, now that people could tell them apart, almost all the warm looks and tender smiles Aegon had received from the lords and ladies at Court went to Jon solely. Turning Egg's bitterness into hatred and despite.

Jon did not know what to do regarding his little brother, he could only hope that his relationships with Aemond and Helaena would be warmer… He didn't want his siblings to suffer the way he did when he was the Bastard of Winterfell.

In the End, Jon's only and best friend was still Ghost.

He had grown a lot faster than him during those past three years, and the Dragon Keepers promised him that he would soon be able to mount him. Jon couldn't help but be excited by that prospect. Soon he would fly like Aegon the Conqueror, he would reach the sky and touch the clouds, it was a childish dream of him that he never thought would come true.

Ghost was already enjoying his new ability as much as he could, since he wasn't chained in the Dragonpit like the other dragons, he was growing a lot faster than Sunfyre or Syrax. But he would more than likely never reached Caraxes' size before Jon turns grey, if he lives long enough to turn grey.

Jon had fallen into a comfortable routine despite his complicated relationships with his family, his meals were delicious, his bed was the comfiest he'd ever knew, his clothes were of first quality, he was a prince, he got a lot of attention, Ghost had become a Dragon, and he had the greatest mother in the world… Jon could have easily forgotten about the Dance of the Dragons, and simply enjoy his new life. However, he was still a dutiful boy, and he refused to be as lax as King Viserys. He did not wish for a war, the Seven Kingdoms had to be strong and united, the Dragons had to survive in order to prepare for the arrival of the White Walkers in less than two centuries. The best way to avoid war was to fix his relationship with Rhaenyra, and after spending nights thinking of the best way to approach his sister, he chose the only he could actually do properly without taking the risk of stirring up her mistrust: the bluntest way possible.

After his lunch with his mother and his siblings, Jon went straight to Rhaenyra's bedroom with Ser Harrold by his sides. Normally, it would have been Ser Criston, but the boy knew the strained relationship between his sister and the stormlander and thought it best to request for a different Kingsguard today, he would give Ser Criston his reasons in the afternoon.

Rhaenyra almost never left her chambers since the sixth moon cycle of her pregnancy, he knew he'd find her there so soon after lunch.

He kindly asked Ser Harold not to announce him when they were on their way, he wanted his sister to speak to him directly instead of simply dismissing through the Kingsguard. He knocked politely and waited for an answer.

"Who is it?"

"Nyra? It's me. Can I come in please?"

A long silence followed that question. Jon felt the need to push his sister a little.

"Please Nyra… I miss you…"

Jon knew this was a low blow, yet it was all he could think of to force a conversation she had avoided for months, and it was genuine anyway.

Rhaenyra finally opened the door with a tired expression on her face and a hand below her heavy belly. She greeted Ser Harold with a nod and motioned for Jon to enter her room, which he did.

Once the door was closed, Rhaenyra went back to sit in her chair while Jon shyly sat in front of her.

Her expression was hard to read, she didn't seem angry or frustrated, she actually looked… scared. She was scared of her six years old half-brother?

Unfortunately, Jon did not have the time to think about it, since Rhaenyra spoke, her tone was… emotionless.

"So Jonothor, what was it that you wanted to talk about?"

"I just wanted to see how you were doing." He quickly answered. "Mother always needs help during when she is pregnant, I thought I could help you too."

Rhaenyra's eyes widened slightly, her face hardened in a blink.

"That is nice of you Jonothor, but I don't need any help, I have all the help I need."

"But they're all focused on the babe!" Jon protested. "You never leave your chambers and Ser Laenor is always in the training yard! Aren't you bored? Don't you need…?"

"Jonothor!" She thundered. "That's enough! There is nothing I need from you!"

Jon was taken aback by her sudden outburst, her violet eyes were filled with a violent emotion that he could only interpret as…

"Nyra… Why do you hate me?"

That question instantly defused the Princess's fury, she looked at him with a dumbfounded and worried expression.

"I don't…" She bit her tongue, and put on an iron mask once more. "I don't hate you. But…"

"Anything before the word 'but' is horseshit." Jon blurted out of habit.

He cursed himself for his stupidity, however, Rhaenyra looked more shocked than angry.

"Where did you learn that word?"

"From the stableboys." He lied. "You hate me…"

Now his sister truly looked frustrated.

"I told you already…"

"Why? What did I do? What did I say? You used to play with me every day! You promised you'd take me flying! Why… Why don't you love me anymore…?"

Jon suspected that he had a childish double personality that took over whenever he was feeling too many emotions. Perhaps the habit of talking like a child had become more than a habit, perhaps his feelings for his new family were sometimes stronger than he had thought. Nevertheless, his outburst had not been part of his plan when he came to visit his sister.

Rhaenyra looked horrified by his words, she paled and her eyes were filled with a deep sorrow that she had buried in her heart for years, she felt tears run down her cheeks and started to hyperventilate.

When he saw this, Jon immediately got up to help his sister, but she smacked him away with the back of her hand.

When Rhaenyra realized that she had hit her little brother, her breath got stuck in her throat, and her eyes widened in horror when she saw his split lip.

Jon was lying on the floor with a bleeding mouth, in shock, he slowly rose his head to meet his sister's violet iris.

"Oh Gods…" She whispered horrified. "Gods… Jonothor… I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to…"

The little Prince wiped some of his blood with the tip of his fingers, and looked at it in shock. He never expected Rhaenyra to lay a hand on him, what had he done to deserve that?

They stayed like this, paralyzed in horror for a handful of seconds, before Jon slowly got back up, he couldn't remember the last time he had felt as sad as he did that day.

Jon slowly walked towards the door with his head down, he didn't notice that Rhaenyra was trying desperately to find the courage to call him back.

He simply left without looking back, leaving his sister alone, like she has always been since her wedding.

Rhaenyra felt her heart ache at the pain and sorrow she had caused her little brother… She never stopped loving him, never started to hate him… Yet… Jonothor had asked why she acted the way she did towards him… And the reason why she had refused to answer was… because she was ashamed of that reason.

(-)(-)(-)

" If only you were older. " She sighed.

" If only, indeed. " Viserys added with a stern look.

The words her father had pronounced earlier that day had resonated inside her skull like a bell inside a sept, not once had she felt as low as Viserys had put her. She had loved Jonothor since the day of his birth, not once had she feared that he would take the Crown from her. Yet… She couldn't help but feel helpless. Jonothor had so many allies, he had a large family and he was a brillant boy. Rhaenyra was afraid that once he had grown, people would start wondering why they should let a woman rule them when they had a perfect little prince to crown.

She would have drown in her misery that night had her uncle not taken her from her chambers to bring her into the common folk to distract her mind. Rhaenyra had loved that moment, where she didn't have to worry about being proper and everyone believed her to be a boy. Her little trip with Daemon had been very enjoyable… until they had come across the stage of a mummer's street play.

"And now we come to the matter of the great iron chair... And whose bum it might bear!" An actor with hideous make up bellowed.. "Our great king names his daughter – a girl – his heir!"

A cry of boos and hollers came from the crowd that Daemon and Rhaenyra stood amongst. They at first watched the show curiously, though as the scenes revealed themselves, Rhaenyra began to feel her temper get the better of her.

"...Rhaenyra, the Realm's Delight, a girl so young and so slight. Loved by all her people... But, would she make a powerful queen? Or would she be feeble?"

"FEEBLE!" the common folk cried in disdain to the heiress' great shock.

"...Though Jonothor, the babe Prince, might long for a claim... He has two things Rhaenyra cannot claim:"

He pointed a finger at his crouch.

"A cock!" he bellowed before pointing at his temple. "And a brain!"

Rhaenyra could't believe what she had just heard, were the people really thinking that she was stupider than a three years old?

"Lies! Slander!" She cried with anger, but no one listened to her.

"Protest as you will," Daemon said, his eyes still on the show, "but many of the smallfolk are like to believe that as a male, Jonothor should sit the Iron Throne."

"Hm," Rhaenyra huffed, "the smallfolk's wants are of no consequence."

Daemon actually laughed.

"The smallfolk's wants are of great consequence if you expect to rule one day," he told her, but he could tell she was not listening.

"They're not the only ones who think so, if you must know." He added with the ghost of a smirk. "Many lords and ladies believe that considering the boy's intelligence, he would be a King as brillant as Jaehaerys."

"Jonothor would never take the Crown from me." She huffed with arms crossed. "He is lovable and he loves me, he'd rather die than betray me."

Daemon laughed harder, his laugh was filled mockery.

"You realize you're talking about a toddler?" he said with a mocking voice. "I'm sure Maegor was as nice as he used to be. But that didn't stop Tyanna of the Tower from whispering poisonous words in his ear, the same way Otto Hightower and his daughter will do to Jonothor once he has grown."

Rhaenyra did not miss the venom in her uncle's voice when he had pronounced her brother's name.

"What has he done to you? He's your three years old nephew."

"I bare no ill will towards him, if that is what you are wondering, it is his name that irks me. Jonothor is a westerosi name, not a Valyrian name. How can a Prince of House Targaryen bare such a ridiculous name?"

Deep down, Rhaenyra agreed with her uncle, Jonothor should have been given a real Targaryen name, worthy of the blood of the Dragon. However, she felt that it was not her uncle's place to judge the name of her sibling.

"It was his mother that named him!" Rhaenyra replied, angry at his tone. "She carried him for nine moons and loves him dearly, why couldn't she be allowed to name her child after all the trouble she went through to give birth to him?"

"The fact that she specifically chose a Westerosi name, common in the Reach, should have risen your suspicion my dear." Daemon answered with a calmed tone. "You do not realize yet the precariousness of your position, my dear niece. The Hightowers have gotten their hands on the blood of the Dragon, they're now going to mold their own brood into contenders to oppose us. Dragons made us Kings, they're the only ones who can unmake us."

Rhaenyra couldn't believe a word uttered by her uncle.

"You can't possibly mean…"

"I can, I am. Westeros fears us since the first day of the Conquest, but that does not mean that they have accepted us, that they see us as little more than invaders. It's our dragons, they fear, and now that they're getting their filthy hands on them… Do you really expect them to stay as docile as they have been all those years? Otto and his daughter will transform your lovable baby brother into a Hightower with Targaryen blood. They will come for you, they will crown him and put an end to our ways and your line. Love your baby brother all you want my dear, but he will never love you half as much as he loves his Hightower mother. And when he will be forced to choose between you and her… Do you honestly expect him to chose your wish over his family's wishes?"

Rhaenyra did not answer, she could not answer, she never thought about any of that! Jonothor was so sweet, so lovable, despite being a baby he had hatched his egg and renewed her friendship with Alicent! Alicent was so happy whenever her baby boy, was in her arms!

But then a cold truth hit her, Alicent did what Otto told her to do, that was why she had married her father. And if Otto told her to turn Jonothor into what Daemon feared… what if she filled his head with lies? What if she told him that the Iron Throne was his birthright, and she was a thief?

Alicent… She had betrayed her once for her family, she would do it again no matter what her heart told her too. And Jonothor, Daemon was right, he was a toddler, filled with love and happiness, but he would grow. Rhaenyra feared what he would grow into.

(-)(-)(-)

Rhaenyra had never forgotten this fear. It grew on her wedding day, when Alicent had entered the room with her green dress, and it became clearer every year when Jonothor would train, study, and dine sporting a green doublet.

Rhaenyra had grown distant from Jonothor, and year after year, she saw him getting better, surrounded by lords and ladies that praised him as if he was the true heir to the throne. That had been enough for her to believe Daemon's theory. He had been so infuriating, being so damn perfect, being loved and supported by everyone, even the handmaidens spoke of him as a perfect son and big brother.

When he had knocked on her door, Rhaenyra had armed herself with courage, as if she was about to have a conversation with her greatest enemy. But his outburst… it destroyed the image she had made up in her mind. It wasn't a usurper that had entered her chambers, it had been her baby brother… Who still loved her dearly despite all their years apart… and she had struck him.

Rhaenyra crumbled in sorrow. The handmaidens had gossiped that Jonothor had helped his mother go through all of her pregnancies as well as he could. He simply wanted to do the same with her, to help her… that is what he had meant, she knew that, yet she had rejected him.

Rhaenyra cried in shame and despair as her belly suddenly felt heavier and brought her to the ground.

She felt so alone. Laenor was her husband in name only, Ser Harwin brought her comfort but not love, her uncle had disappeared years ago, Alicent and her Father could never understood what she lacked.

Jonothor had understood, he had wanted to be here for her just like she had wanted, and she had smacked him away.

Why? Oh why? Did she fear him so much?