Fire And Blood

Sister

Jon II

A few days had passed. Jon watched the princess whenever he could, his eyes rarely straying from her. He watched her when she was outside in the garden, by the marble pool. He watched her when she was on the terrasse, her gaze focusing on nothing. He watched her when she was with her brother, small, meek and docile. Viserys had yet to raise his hand against Daenerys, but Jon knew that he could have done so in the privacy of their chambers. If he did, then he left no marks.

Now, Jon was accompanying her for another leisurely walk through the garden in the cooling evening air.

"Our niece – your sister – will arrive on the morrow," Daenerys said, her voice like a gentle breeze caressing his skin. "Rhaenys. I thought it a cruel jest when we received the letter from Dorne. I thought her dead."

Jon swallowed thickly as lead settled in his stomach. Rhaenys Targaryen, the only surviving child in that cursed room. No one spoke of it, but everyone knew of the atrocities Gregor Clegane had committed: Little Aegon Targaryen's head crushed against a wall and Elia Martell raped with her son's blood still on the Mountain's hands before she was almost cleaved in half.

He shivered. However she had done it, Rhaenys had escaped a most terrible death.

"You know what happened to them, do you not?" Jon asked Daenerys, his voice thick.

"I do. Everyone does." Her voice hardened. "And yet, the Lannisters, the Usurper and everyone else involved in the massacre of my family holds power; they all live their lives in comfort." Like Valyrian steel did her voice cut through the night. "As if they had done something worthy of celebration. Butchering babes and women."

Jon felt terrible for not feeling as terrible as Daenerys. His parentage aside, he felt little to no connection to Aegon and Rhaenys. Lord Eddard Stark had raised him as his own, so his siblings were all living in Winterfell. The injustice done to Elia Martell and Prince Aegon was horrifying and he acknowledged that, but he couldn't feel the same anguish for a lost brother the way Daenerys felt it for a lost nephew. It made him feel guilty.

"Are you alright, Jon?"

He glanced at her. "Yes."

"I do not know you for long, but I have come to learn that you are a terrible liar. You would also be terrible at anything cloak-and-dagger," she added with a smile. "I must find many new dresses, for your eyes have burned holes in most of my wardrobe – and I do not have much, to begin with."

His face heated up immediately. "I-I apologize! I didn't mean to –"

"Hush, Jon," Daenerys said, chuckling. "It endears you to me that you care so much for my wellbeing...I trust that my wellbeing was your motivation and not something untoward."

"No! That – I would not dishonour you so!" His face felt even hotter than it did mere moments ago while his aunt dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"I know, nephew, I know," Daenerys said between giggles. "I jest." She then sighed. "But we are Targaryens. My mind is cruel and makes me wish that I could give my maidenhead to a nephew who appears to care for me, rather than being forced to give it to a barbarian warlord who raids villages, pillages homes and rapes women for sport."

To his shame, his breeches suddenly felt tighter as he looked away.

"Are you excited to see your sister on the morrow?" Daenerys asked suddenly, surprising him with this abrupt change of topics.

Sister. He had two sisters in Winterfell. He had grown up with them, used to see them every day. Now, however, he had another.

"I dread it," he answered honestly.