The Time Curse (Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon Fanfic)

Chapter 21: The Lament of Lyanna

The following days were an odd awakening for the Stark family. Jon behaved so differently around Morgana. His usual stoic nature was still present but he seemed more confident and self-assured. 

He walked about Winterfell with the swagger of a prince rather than a bastard, something that grated on Lady Stark's nerves. 

The lone wolf was never without the dragon witch. She ignored Robb and Theon's every attempt to grow closer to her. Jon was the only one who held her attention and no one could explain why. 

Well, not no one. 

Eddard Stark was in an anxious fluster as the dread witch slinked about his home with Jon. His only saving grace was that she didn't know about the war. She didn't know what had truly happened to the Targaryen family. She didn't know Rhaegar or Lyanna yet. She didn't know the fate of her beloved mad king. 

Most importantly she didn't know that Jon was the rightful heir to the iron throne. 

Lord Stark was certain that if Jon asked, Morgana would bring Westeros to its knees to restore him to his rightful place. She would slaughter the Baratheons in the same manner they eradicated the Targaryens. She would burn Storm End to the ground and curse the lot of them for penance. No one would be able to stand against her, not the old gods or the new. 

Morgana Slytherin fucking terrified him. 

"Come on, I can't believe I haven't shown you this yet. This is the crypt, it's where all the previous Starks are buried. It's a sacred place." Jon said pulling Morgana along by their entwined hands. 

"My family has something similar... It's a chamber of secrets my ancestor built. It is sacred to us as well, though for different reasons." Morgana explained slightly out of breath trying to keep up with Jon's long strides. 

The moment her slippered foot touched the cold stone ground of the crypt she pulled Jon to a halt. The teen turned in confusion only to see Morgana's eyes glowing a faint silver. 

"Morgana?" 

"I feel it... my magic... some of my magic is here... Why would some of my magic be here?" Morgana whispered to herself, releasing Jon's hand and moving further into the crypt. She closed her eyes, trying to feel where her magical signature was coming from. 

There. 

Morgana moved into the crypt, further into the darkness as Jon stumbled to follow after her. 

She stopped in front of a statue of a woman. The statue eerily reminded her of the one she had always appeared in front of, every time she jumped through time. Maybe it was the stance of the statue or the face itself but the resemblance was odd. For a moment, Morgana had to remind herself that her marks were still a light grey, there was no pull in her stomach telling her she had left. 

"That's Lyanna Stark... My father's sister." Jon answered the unasked question. 

"My magic flows through this statue... Why would I care about a Stark woman's grave in Winterfell of all places? Why-" She stopped her eyes falling upon her necklace. Carved into the statue was a stone replica of Slytherin's locket. 

Morgana stalled for a moment. Questions filled her head with no answers to be offered. 

The familiar curve of parseltongue dripped from her lips as she commanded the statue, "OPEN."

Magic came alive and the statue slid back into an alcove in the wall revealing a small wooden chest with the symbol of House Slytherin carved into the lid. 

"What is this, Gana?" Jon asked, leaning over the witch's crouched form to see the chest inside. 

"I haven't the slightest idea... I assume something from... well... me..." Morgana said pulling the chest and placing it on the stone ground in front of them. 

There was a lock on the box, though there was no hole for a key which only meant, "Alohamora." The lock clicked and dropped onto the ground. This chest was only meant to be opened by her, the only true witch in this universe. 

She opened the lid only to freeze by what she saw. Sitting on top of a letter addressed to herself in her own writing was the crown she made for Aegon the Conqueror on their wedding day. The metal was still pristine and flowing with magic, the symbol of the three-headed dragon glowing proudly on the head. Jon gasped seeing the symbol of the long broken house of the dragon. 

"Morgana... That's-"

"Aegon the Conqueror's crown... I know... I made it." Morgana admitted pulling the letter from the bottom of the chest as well as the small draw-string satchel. The satchel was black with red runes sewn into the fabric. Morgana recognized them right away as an unending bag, or what Harry referred to as a Mary Poppins bag.  

Morgana hadn't the slightest idea who Mary Poppins was but she assumed her to be a very clever witch to come up with such a trinket. 

Saving the letter for last she opened the bag and from it she pulled the mythical valyrian steel ancestral sword of House Targaryen... Blackfyre. 

The sword she had seen a dozen times in a dozen different hands. She knew it well, the hum of the valyrian steel in her palm. 

She could barely hear Jon's myriad of questions as she opened the letter. The entire thing was in High Valyrian so even as Jon tried looking over her shoulder to read it he could not. 

"What does it say?" Jon asked. 

" To my past self, 

I remember the day I found this very letter in the crypt with my beloved Jon. Odd how time magic works, never happens in the right order as we have learned time and time again. 

You made an oath to yourself, so long ago now, to protect the house of the Dragon. You swore to be good, to be a hero, to be light, unlike your family. 

Aegon's dream is very real. A threat rises from beyond the wall even more wicked than Voldemort. Beside you now sits the prince who was promised all those centuries ago. Jon Snow was born Aegon Targaryen, the trueborn son of crowned prince Rhaegar Targaryen and his wife Lyanna Stark. Ned Stark took in his nephew to save him from the wrath of the vengeful Baratheon Stag. 

There is much to be done and not nearly enough time. 

The dragon must have three heads, King Maker. 

Do what you do best and protect the house of the Dragon at any cost. Three dragons and a dragon witch at their side, how it always should have been, from the very beginning. Aegon was right you do have an important part to play. 

For the greater good. " 

Morgana turned to the shell-shocked Jon- no Aegon. 

Tears filled his eyes as a rage lit so brightly that his dark eyes suddenly looked like a deep violet. She knew he was Dragon descended, due to the bond but she had always assumed that Jon was the bastard son of Eddard Stark and a Targaryen princess... not...

"My king..." Morgana nodded as she took the crown in her hands placing it on Jon's head, who hadn't moved an inch since she had finished reading the letter. 

It suited him perfectly, almost as if it had been made for him. 

Morgana took his face in her hands, recognizing that his life would never be the same. No chosen one lived happily after all, "There is so much I need to tell you."

So there in the dark abyss of the Winterfell crypt, Morgana told Aegon Targaryen her story.