Jon was woken the next morning by the shouts and clattering of hooves from the party arriving through the postern gate, including the grating shrieks of one, Viserys Targaryen. His rooms were situated to face the sea, but the winds blew sound from the outer yard as it whistled past. He stumbled out of bed, head pounding from a combination of lack of sleep and overindulgence the night before.

Trying to sleep with the image of Robert Baratheon leaning over him had been enough to keep him awake the whole night.

Ghost was laid out over the end of the bed, happily snoozing away, lost to the world and Jon sighed. Elsa had come in the night to collect his laundry and Sophie had crept in early that morning to fill the bowl on the nightstand with hot water. Seeing that he was still awake, she had offered him a comforting smile and a small pastry she had been given by Wylla for him, supposed to be a surprise when he woke. He had gladly sat with her a while, asking how she was settling in, as the sun rose, nibbling on the soft, warm, buttery pastry.

He used the now cool water to splash his face, in an attempt to ease the aching in his head. It helped only a little, and he sighed, glancing towards where the coronet lay, atop the nightstand next to the bowl of water, waiting for its next use. It had been cast of iron, obsidian glittering from seven points on the circle. He hated it.

Dressing, he left the room to find Ser Barristan standing guard on his door, surprised to see him up and about so early.

"Your Highness," the man said, startled. "I had thought you would be resting for a time yet."

"I could not sleep," Jon said. "I thought you would be guarding Daenerys?"

"Her Highness has gone to greet her brother," the man explained, following Jon down the hallway. "And it was my shift to guard you last night. Ser Jaime will be back with you soon."

"That's alright." Jon hoped that Daenerys was alright. From the screaming going on outside, his uncle was not happy. He wondered where Rhaegar was, before remembering: he had asked for Robert Baratheon to meet with him specifically.

He found Arya and her new friend from the night before hiding around a corner, peering out at the mess Viserys was making in the courtyard. He had Daenerys by the arm, a female version of Jaime smirking down at her from where she sat side-saddle on her horse. Arya was scowling, Nymeria bristling at her side. She glanced up as Jon approached.

"I don't like him," his cousin said immediately. "He hates everyone."

"I don't know anyone who likes Viserys," Jon said tiredly. "Who is your friend?" He could probably guess, but he felt like indulging Arya this once.

"This is Gendry," she said immediately as the boy tried to stutter out something coherent. He looked immensely awkward. "He thought girls couldn't beat him, until I hit him with a stick sword."

"Did he now?" That amused Jon, especially as the boy went bright red, adding to the embarrassment brought on by his father the night before. "And why would you bet against a she-wolf of the Starks?" Gendry flushed, bowing his head.

"I didn't know, m'lord," the boy murmured towards his shoes, so quiet, it took Jon a moment to work out what he had said. "And then she hit me." Jon smiled.

"Arya's not like most ladies. I'd hate to see what Nymeria would have done if you had defeated her." The boy went pale, before realising that Jon had simply been joking. "How long have you been here?"

"Since they opened the gate. The cooks said someone was arriving today and I wanted to see who it was," Arya stated. Gendry shuffled awkwardly.

"So you dragged poor Gendry out of bed?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. The boy flushed again.

"No. He was in the armoury, by the smiths," Arya explained. "He was trying to ask the smith there to show him how the palace forge worked."

"You like smithing?" Jon asked. The Baratheon boy more interested in metalworking than becoming a lord. I think I like this one. He was far preferable to his father. Gendry nodded silently, not looking up. "I'll speak with the palace smith. It would be interesting to see what he would make of you." Gendry glanced up in surprise, appreciation and awe in his gaze.

"If… if it would please you m'lord," he stuttered.

"It's Your Highness, stupid," Arya sniffed, punching the poor boy's arm. "Jon's all proper now."

"Oh, really?" Jon asked, smirking. "Too proper to do this?" She shrieked as he grabbed her, tickling her sides until she gasped with laughter and refusing to let go. Gendry gaped at them in surprise before his face split into a wide smile and started sniggering.

"Shut up!" Arya cried, wriggling in his grip. "Put me down, Jon! I swear, I'll never call you proper again!" She was laughing too hard to do much else. He plopped her down, aware that they had attracted the attention of the new arrivals. The blonde woman who could only be Cersei Lannister was watching them with narrow eyes, her lips curved upwards in a satisfied smirk.

It was then that Viserys caught sight of him.

"You!" he shrieked, dropping Daenerys in an instant. "What is the bastard of the Wolf Whore doing in my Palace?!" A knight in the white raiment of the Kingsguard trotted his horse before Viserys, dismounting smoothly and dropping into a kneel at Jon's feet.

"Prince Jaehaerys," he greeted, "it is a pleasure to meet you at last. I am Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard. I must ask for your forgiveness for your Uncle, he has had a long ride and the seas were rough." Jon nodded, gesturing for the man to rise.

"He has them," Jon said formally, "so long as he remembers that there are those within the Palace who are still resting from the feast." Ser Oswell's smirk confirmed that he caught the jibe where Viserys did not.

"Ser Oswell, remove the bastard from my sight!" Viserys spat. "And as for you, slut, go run after your little pet!" He practically slung Daenerys across the yard towards him. Cersei looked far too amused.

"Please, beloved," she purred. "Allow me to escort the children inside." Without much more to say, she stalked towards them, Daenerys having no choice but to follow. His Aunt looked none too happy about this turn of events, nor to be referred to as a child. Above, Drogon circled, screaming his anger at his mother and rider's treatment.

Jon did not move when Cersei attempted to enter the castle.

"My Lady," he greeted her. "This is a surprise." The woman gave him a smirk.

"I'm afraid I do not speak with bastards," she said silkily. "If you will excuse me, I must escort the Princess back to her room."

"Daenerys," Jon said, turning to her and ignoring what Cersei had just said entirely. "Would you accompany myself and Rhaenys for a ride later this morning? Ghost will need his daily exercise." Daenerys blinked and nodded.

"It would be an honour, Prince Jaehaerys," she said politely, complete with curtsey. It was rather odd, for her to do so. From the look of irritation which flashed across Cersei Lannister's face, it had been done for a reason.

"Ser Barristan," Cersai declared, "if you would be so kind as to escort myself and my husband to our quarters-"

"I'm afraid no place has been prepared, My Lady," Ser Barristan interrupted her. "We were given no prior warning as to your arrival. And the queen's quarters have since been given over to Princess Daenerys after the divorce." An ugly expression flitted across Cersei's face.

"You expect your Prince and Princess to be housed in mere lord's quarters? And what of the Crown heir's rooms? As the Prince of Dragonstone-"

"As the official Prince of Dragonstone, they are mine," Jon said pointedly. "I am happy for my Uncle to stay in the castle, as the only home he has ever known, however it is such a pain to travel between my Lady Mother's house in the suburbs and the Red Keep for every event in the upcoming weeks. I am glad to finally meet you, however, Aunt." Cersei looked disgusted.

"You are no nephew of mine," she spat, wrinkling her nose. "You do not even have your own Kingsguard."

"Ah, then I must simply be a breath of air," Jaime declared as he stepped into the sunlight of the outer yard. He was casually holding a cocked pistol, twirling it in one hand, other on the hilt of his rapier. "Prince Jaehaerys, King Rhaegar requests that you join him in his private quarters for breakfast, along with Princess Daenerys. He was unaware that his brother decided to join us. Such a shame he was too late to attend the coronation." He was staring pointedly at his sister, who looked furious.

"Jaime, you cannot tell me that the King has dishonoured you by-"

"It is good to see you too, sister," Jaime cut her off. "Unfortunately, I have Kingsguard duties right now, and will be unavailable to catch up with you until this evening. I bid you good day." With that, he ushered Jon inside along with Arya and a pale Gendry, who had his head bowed and hands clasped behind his back to hide their shaking.

Jon followed in silence, knowing questions would not be appreciated at this particular moment in time.

Robert Baratheon was just stumbling out into the corridor when they arrived at Rhaegar's solar. Daenerys stiffened, eyes clouded in anger at the man, who squinted at them in some confusion before shuffling away. Drogon continued to scream outside, feeding off of his rider's frustration it seemed. Jon pretended that he wasn't hiding behind Jaime when the man passed.

They had dropped Arya off with a disgruntled and sleep-ruffled Robb, along with Gendry who seemed unsure what to do once they were no longer in danger of being attacked by Viserys. Jon had given a gentle push towards Arya- his cousin seemed to have claimed him as her own and had been glaring back from Robb's own hold on her, protesting to being stuck inside. Jon had suggested they visit the armoury, and to tell the smith he had sent them. Robb seemed confused but agreed, still half asleep to notice the odd request.

Inside, Rhaenys was busy shredding a quill to pieces.

"I think the bird is dead," Jon observed dryly, raising an eyebrow.

"Too bad it isn't our Lord of Storm's End," Rhaenys hissed. "I still believe that you ought to have made Stannis the official Lord of Storm's End, especially after that display." Rhaegar looked tired, deep purple bags under his eyes. Jon wondered if he had even slept.

"If I did, half of the Stormlords would riot. Robert is an oaf, but he is the face of House Baratheon, his youngest brother dearly beloved. Should I give it to Stannis, the man who is seen committing executions, presiding over trials and limiting the spending of their lord, the lords and smallfolk alike will revolt, thinking me to be punishing them." Jon frowned, thinking on that.

"How so?" he asked, wondering. "Stannis may be visibly holding the reins, but he is also Master of Laws, the Lord in King's Landing over even his elder brother and half the Realm will have heard of his embarrassment last night by now." Rhaegar sighed.

"It isn't that simple. Stannis is rigid and unpopular with the people." Wine was already present on his desk, and he took a sip now from the cup. "Such an appointment may work out, but it will be years before we see the fruits of it. Time we do not have, with Cersei Lannister making her return to court."

"You heard then?"

"Who didn't?" Rhaenys snorted. "He was making enough noise to wake the dead, even without the dragon." She glared at him accusingly.

"Do I look in control of Drogon?" he asked her pointedly. Daenerys had her small hands curled into fists, breathing deliberately slowly.

"If I were not in control of him, the city would be on fire," she sniffed. "As would Viserys." Rhaegar looked even more drawn at the reminder of his brother. Jon remembered his father's words to him- how a man could never hate those they loved. He wondered if Viserys was even capable of returning those feelings. to either he or Daenerys.

"This is not the point," he sighed again, taking another draught from his cup. "This is not something my brother came up with alone. No doubt Cersei thought to undermine the coronation."

"Did you know they were coming?" Jon asked, simultaneously alarmed and curious.

"I ensured that the coronation would take place before they arrived," Rhaegar confirmed tiredly. "Your Uncle would have caused far more problems than Robert Baratheon. But this is not why I called you here."

"Then why?" Rhaegar was silent a moment, swirling his wine in his glass.

"Rhaenys has informed me of your desire to take on an official Royal Progress," he started, staring into the glass as if it would give him the answers he desired. "I disagree as to why it is necessary." Jon frowned.

"Why?" he asked, half curious and half frustrated. "You cannot take one yourself and most of the Realm has never seen the Royal Family, especially the North. It is still a part of your kingdom you know."

"I am aware," Rhaegar said dryly. "But it has been over two centuries since the practice was used to include the North. Very few Targaryens undertake the whole Realm. You will be away for over a year, again time that we do not have."

"Away I might be, but Rhaenys will still be here, as well as Daenerys if you allow it," Jon pointed out, reigning in his own anger. "Besides, the Realm does not know me. I'm certain Baelish is not the only one spreading rumours about my birth, whether I am yours or simply an upjumped bastard." Rhaegar was silent, looking oddly haggard. He knows it is the right decision, Jon realised, surprised. He just doesn't want to make it.

"Perhaps next year," Rhaegar murmured. "Do you truly want to leave the court with Cersei here?"

"Do you not trust Rhaenys to keep them in hand while we are away?" Rhaegar sighed, tipping back the wine, gulping it down until the glass was empty. He placed it to one side.

"You will not leave for another month," Rhaegar said firmly. "Arrangements will need to be made, there is a session of Parliament and the Court trials for you to sit in on with Rhaenys and you will take the dragon with you." Jon blinked as Daenerys stood, Drogon shrieking in anger outside.

"You cannot decide where my children will go!" she hissed, sounding almost like her children, violet eyes narrowed. Rhaegar ignored her outburst as Jon shared a startled look with Rhaenys. Clearly, she had not expected that either.

"Father," Jon started hesitantly,"I… It is not for me to decide where Viserion goes." He shifted uneasily, wondering what were the right words here. Rhaegar wanted something that was impossible, considering that Daenerys would never give up one of her dragons. Not even to him. Not to mention that he had no idea how to control Viserion even if she did come with him. "What would I do if she decided to eat the final rations from one of the small villages we pass through? Or a shepherds flock, a farmers herd of dairy cows? It seems a bad idea to take a dragon."

"These were not concerns for the Tagaryens of old," Rhaegar said, raising an eyebrow. "Any damages she incurs can be handled by the crown. Your steward can keep the figures."

"A progress can take over a year," Jon stressed. "Winter would kill many of those smallfolk from the damages before the crown could be reimbursed. You can get a cow if you need to but you cannot eat gold, I assure you." Rhaenys shot him a sharp look as Daenerys scowled beside him.

"Viserion is a dragon. She will go where she pleases because-"

"A dragon is not a slave," Rhaegar finished sharply. "As I have heard before, sister. Now sit, you look foolish standing." Daenerys flushed and slumped back into her seat. That angered Jon, who frowned himself.

"That was harsh," he argued. Rhaegar narrowed his eyes.

"We have spoken about this," his father snapped. "My decision is final. You will take the dragon, or you will not go at all." Outside Dragon clawed at the walls of the Red Keep, screaming fury, as Daenerys rose and fled the solar. Jon couldn't tell if she was crying of frustration or sorrow at having to part with one of her children. Rhaenys watched her leave, hand resting gently on Jon's thigh to prevent him from following. Imagine how it would look, he thought sarcastically, for someone to care how she felt about this decision.

"Jon was right, Father," Rhaenys said quietly into the silence that followed. "That was harsh. The dragons are the only children she will ever have."

"Jaehaerys is being rash, and I am asking no more of her than I am willing to give myself," Rhaegar said tiredly, refilling his glass.

"Be that as it may," Rhaneys continued, "it is one thing to leave a baby and another a child you have watched over your whole life." Jon stiffened beside her, surprised she would be so bold. Rhaegar, too, stared at his daughter.

"Just what are you suggesting?" Rhaegar hissed, indigo eyes flashing in anger.

"You said it yourself," Rhaenys said firmly. "You ask nothing more of her than you do of yourself. Except, you fail to realise that you are, in fact, doing such a thing. Jon lived his life surrounded by servants of the North because of your mistakes. You left a babe, and left again and again and again." Her own violet eyes were hard, her fingers gripping tight to his own. Jon wondered, with a start, how long she had kept these thoughts secret. "Each time, as he grew, you saw only snapshots of his life. I only saw snapshots of his life. You did not see his first steps, hear his first words, dry his tears when he was sad or kiss a bruise better when he fell." There were tears in Rhaenys' eyes then. "Mother did all those things for me, when she was still alive, no matter what you were doing. And I daresay, Daenerys did the same, for her children." She rose then, dropping Jon's hand as she leant over the table to Rhaegar. "So, Father, it is not the same thing you ask of her." She took a breath and then sat back down demurely, straightening deep, wine red skirts, accented in the golden bronze of her mother's house. "And he is also right regarding the issue of food. I would propose that Daenerys goes with him."

"No," Rhaegar said, snapping out of his started look brought on by Rhaenys' monologue. "There are whispers enough."

"And who started those whispers I wonder?" she asked sarcastically. "Lord Baelish is still trying to spread the rumour regarding Ghost, and failing miserably at that. The only ppeople he has convinced so far are Lady Arryn and that fool Lord Tyrell. His mother will put an end to that folly quick enough."

"Hardly," Rhaegar noted. "The Sept."

"What of it?" Rhaenys dismissed. "So the wolf and dragon responded to my brother's fear there. A little fear is required for ruling, no?"

"Too much fear and the lords become lickspittles."

"So that means setting up an internal feud?" Jon asked suspiciously. "Either you are trying to spread fear elsewhere or you are using Daenerys again to create a problem where there is none."

"Daenerys is the Foriegn Queen to many of the smallfolk. She will become a problem should she stay in King's Landing."

"She cannot return to Dragonstone," Jon snapped back, irritated. It felt as if they chased this particular issue round in circles. "Did you see the way he treated her in the yard?"

"I was in here reprimanding Robert Baratheon on his behaviour last night," Rhaegar said blithly. "A little hard to see anything around his bulk."

"You most certainly heard him call her a whore," Jon threw back. "He threw her at me as if she were nothing more than an object. And what he said of my mother ought not to be said in decent company."

"Be that as it may, my point still stands," Rhaegar argued. "Daenerys cannot stay in King's Landing but, according to the both of you, yes I can see your agreement Rhaenys, I cannot send her back to Dragonstone either." He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "I have done the best I can for her, for both of them, but it seems nothing has worked. What suggestion have you for me, if neither solution works, that isn't joining Jaehaerys on the Procession?"

"Summerhall, or Sunspear perhaps," Rhaenys said at once. "She will be safe there, or, if she prefers something a little less familiar, I'm sure Lord Stark would be happy to host her for a while." Jon rolled his eyes.

"I think the dragons have done enough damage to Stark property," he pointed out. "Summerhall could work. The woods are thick enough there still to keep the dragons well fed and mitigate the damage." Rhaegar looked strained at the thought of spending more time with his sister. "Unless that is an inconveneince to you?" Jon asked.

"No," Rhaegar sighed. "I see I am defeated in this. Go, the both of you. I have much to think of and preparations to make." Jon rose, offering a hand to Rhaneys who took it gracefully. He was stopped at the door by Rhaegar calling his name at the door.

"Yes Father?" he asked, tired himself.

"My decision on Viserion is final. She will go with you, but I understand your concerns. You will not leave King's Landing for this Procession until you are a dragonrider." With that, they were waved out.

"She would let you ride her," Daenerys said from her perch under the heart tree, where their small group had retreated to after the first meeting of Parliament. To Jon, who was lying in the grass after divesting himself of uncomfortable cravat and jacket, it seemed to mostly consist of the lords arguing. No one could agree on anything, and he had found himself mediating several long standing ancient fueds between the Houses. Robb had been sat, wide-eyed, at the disarray. Rhaenys had just looked tired. "I can show you how."

"I would be honoured," Jon said sourly. "I would be happier if I did not feel like I am stealing one of your children." Daenerys gave him a wobbly smile.

"Every mother has to learn to let go eventually," she said, holding in her tears. Jon sighed, fiddling with a blade of grass. Off to one side, Arya was chasing Gendry through the trees, playing some kind of game where the two were supposed to attempt to hit each other with sticks. Ary was winning by the sounds of it.

"I still don't like it," he groused. And not just because it wasn't you choice, he thought guiltily. I'm terrified to try. I'm scared of what it will do to me. Daenerys had ridden Drogon the first time to flee Meereen. When she returned, she had burned the invading army to ashes and came home. That kind of power, sat right in his hands, was somehow only slightly less terrifying than being handed the power of Crown Prince.

Robb let out an explosive sigh.

"Could you be pleased, just this once?" he half begged. "Most people would be excited at the thought of riding a dragon. A dragon Jon!" His eyes were wide in wonder. "How did you hatch them?"

"On the pyre of my husband, with a maegi and a horse," Daenerys said flatly. "It was not a very happy circumstance." Despite Robb's flush, Jon had to smile. While no longer afraid of Daenerys herself, Robb had always been wary of the dragons. Apparently, boyish wonder at his cousin riding one was a good cure for that, although he would not dare to approach them alone.

"It is really not all that exciting," Rhaenys sniffed from behind her book. She had put the account books to the side for today, and had buried herself instead into what the cover said was a classic and what Jon suspected was actually a sleazy romance novel from the fervoured way she read it. "What will be exciting is when I finally catch a mistake from Baelish."

"If you rode a dragon yourself, you could always roast him and claim they were hungry," Jon joked. Robb snorted and Daenerys looked surprised that he was the one to suggest it. Rhaenys suddenly looked intrigued.

"Hmm… that's not a bad idea. I'll make sure to use it as a last resort, should this lead go nowhere again." She glanced slyly to their Aunt. "You would not begrudge me borrowing Dragon for such a purpose would you Aunt?" Daenerys smiled.

"For Baelish? Never, although I fear he will give my poor child indigestion."

"Sorry Ghost couldn't help," Jon said. "It would be a little obvious should he turn up mauled to death."

"We could say Shaggydog did it?" Robb asked, perhaps not quite getting that they weren't completely joking. Rhaenys blinked and then smirked.

"I knew there was a reason we kept your cousins around," she quipped, grinning at the confused blush that rose on Robb's face. "They're so innocent, you forget how bloodthirsty the Starks can truly be."

"Never mess with the pack," Jon agreed, with a smirk. "Hurt one and the rest brings retribution." Daenerys gaped for a moment as Robb frowned.

"We are not the Kings of Winter anymore," he muttered grumpily. Jon sighed internally, shrugging outwardly.

"Well, I always knew you were no Theon Stark, the Hungry Wolf," Jon said with a smirk. "Maybe his brother, cowardly Edrick Stark." Robb gave a cry of outrage, leaping for him and the next moment they were wrestling and laughing in the grass. At some point, Arya decided to abandon her game with Gendry and join in, and soon they were all bruised and muddy, laughing with grass sticking out of their hair. Rhaenys wrinkled her nose and pulled her feet out of the danger zone of getting spattered with mud.

"Starks," she muttered, returning to her racy romance novel. "Always so wild."

Jon savoured the laughter of that afternoon, watched over by the wolves and Jaime Lannister, and the soft accompanying smile from Daenerys, the first since that disastrous meeting in his Father's solar.