Jaehaeron Targaryen - The Northern Dragon

VIII - The North Remembers

To read early

Chapter 9 : 'The Bastard of Winterfell

Chapter 10 : 'Bonding with a Snow'

Chapter 11 : 'The Ghosts of the Past'

Chapter 12 : 'Siblings'

Chapter 13 : 'The Dream'

Chapter 14: 'The Prince of Dragonstone'

Chapter 15: 'Stormborn'

Chapter 16: 'Siblings & Bastards'

Chapter 17: 'The Punishment'

Chapter 18: 'Blood and Tears.'

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Chapter VIII : The North Remembers

Jon flew on Vermithor with Ser Steffon Darklyn at his back. Had it been up to him, and him only, he would have chosen to fly alone to Winterfell. He was far too eager to see his old home, and felt a Kingsguard would have been unnecessary. However, he had to remind himself that he was not Jon Snow anymore, but Prince Jaehaeron Targaryen. And he was not going home, he was going to foster at Winterfell for a few years, the Northerners knew nothing of him, for them, he was another pompous southerner. He would have to prove himself, like he has always done in his past life and his new. The cold winds of the North came to slap his face the day he landed in front of Riverrun in order for his kingsguard and him to rest under the hospitality of Lord Grover Tully, who welcomed them with open arms and a knee to the ground.

Jon had to resist the urge to smile, Catelyn Tully would only be born in more than 160 years, the fact that her ancestor was now kneeling to him had pleased Jon in a way he had never felt before. He enjoyed being Jaehaeron Targaryen far more than he should have, yet Jon Snow was of the North, and the North had a long memory. A feast had been prepared in his honor, meaning he sat on the Tully's high table next to Lord Grover himself, closer to him than were the Warden's own wife and sons. Was it his greatest victory in both his lifetimes? No, for he had done nothing to be rewarded with a princely title, yet satisfaction flowed through his body like blood through his veins, it felt good to be alive.

Ser Steffon and him left on the morning, with the cheers of the riverlords and the rivermen and women behind them. Jaehaeron smiled at them but shook his head once he had been back in the sky. The North's cold winds slapped harder and harder, a feeling of guilt rose suddenly inside the Prince's chest. For a horrible moment, Jon felt as if Lord Eddard Stark himself was throwing him a disappointing look for acting like the Southern Prince he had became.

Vermithor's roar echoed his rider's pain and pulled the latter out of his depressed mood. Jon frowned when he realized that his dragon was scolding him for falling so low so easily. He felt like apologizing, but knew the Bronze fury would not care. So he sighed, and buried himself in his thoughts. If Ser Steffon had noticed his brooding, he did not mention it or let his thoughts known. As he silently admired the lands below him, he lost himself in his thoughts as the familiarity of the North hit him harder with each of Vermithor's wing flapping. Has his behaviour truly been as scandalous as he felt it has been since his rebirth? Would it have been better had he acted like who he used to be in his past life? Jon thought, something about him did not feel right. He had acted dutifully in both his lives, he had loved his family in both his lives, he had never forgotten what had happened to the Starks, his family the ones he still loved with all his heart. Yet, that had not prevented him from loving Daemon Targaryen, his second father, that had not prevented him from loving Rhaenyra the same way he loved Arya. So what was wrong with him? Why was he feeling as if he had done something deeply inappropriate? The answer hit him like an anvil on the skull, and he saw red.