Bringing the Dawn

XXX.

Jaeron Targaryen

Greywater Watch, 300AC

Stress was a feeling that was not new to him. It was something he had always felt when he was younger as he never understood why he was always left to the side. This only amplifying when he was old enough to grasp what the word bastard had meant and why that was the case. But by the time he had reached his thirteenth name-day, this had practically dissolved like it had never been there in the first place. Finally accepting that was what he was and that no matter what he was always going to be an outsider. Whilst the North weren't as against the notion of baseborns like the south was, they still weren't looked at nicely.

But then everything flipped upside down on him.

He had been working for just shy of a year to get himself into a position where he would be able to enact his revenge over what had happened. Building up some alliances, working on ways to spread the word so the damage wouldn't be as catastrophic as it would be if he were to come forward with no build up. Training constantly to the point his fingers regularly blistered and bled but still he carried on, knowing he would need to be in the best shape possible before the claim was made. Finally, he had gotten to a point where there was a decent plan and he was planning on coming forward soon. But now? The rug had well and truly been pulled from underneath his feet and Jaeron could say with absolute certainty he had no idea what to do now.

First, Robb was currently rallying the Northern banners to march south. If his timings were correct, he would probably be nearing in on Castle Cerwyn by now. It was going to take a few weeks before he could reunite with his brother and he couldn't deny he was excited. The last time he had seen him was when he had travelled to the Wall to create the initial ruse that he was lost beyond the massive ice sculpture his own ancestor was said to have built if the legends were true. Then there was the man who had raised him as his own in a black cell in the Red Keep awaiting trial. He hadn't heard anything regarding Arya yet which was making his stress run through the roof in ways he never had. And now his plans were in ruin as he was outplayed by someone they had all trusted.

Where had it all gone so wrong?

Those seven words circled in his head day and night, gnawing on his fingernails until the skin underneath broke. Desperately trying to think of ways that he could turn it in his favour. But how does one do so when they have no idea what they are up against? That was what bothered him the most, and he couldn't make a bold move in relation to it as Torghen had Sansa. Whilst he hadn't gotten along with her and she spurned him most out of all the Stark children, she was still his little sister and he did love her fiercely. Remembering the times where they were too young to know exactly what their places were. When they would throw mud pies at one another and make snow cones and chase one another through the crypts. To playing King in my Castle, tug rope, cat and mouse, or racing one another through the halls with not a single care in the world.

There was only one saving grace to it all. Howland and Arthur's small debate on what could have happened. Jaeron hadn't asked about it, but apparently Torghen despised Renly Baratheon for some reason meaning he wasn't taking her to him. Pylos was keeping an eye on Dragonstone with his crow, and he definitely would've included that in one of his reports – meaning she wasn't with Stannis. And he had taken her away from the Red Keep. Meaning one of two things. Either there was another claimant, or he had stepped in to smuggle her away from the damage that is about to unfold.

"You really are like your father, you know."

He snapped his head around to be faced with Arthur who had just appeared in the room. Not wearing any armour and surprisingly, no swords at his hips. But the younger wasn't stupid, he would've had a knife on him somewhere, possibly a vial of poison too.