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“Ser Arthur?”
Reluctantly only Arthur turned away from Lyanna's unconscious self to look over to Wylla, she approached him with the bundle in her arms.
“May you take him so I may help in tending to Lady Lyanna?” The wetnurse and nursemaid asked him and Arthur got to his feet quickly, sorting tired legs under himself. “Might even be good if you take the little prince downstairs until we have cleaned the room.” She settled the babe in his arms with practiced hands and Arthur was surprised when he found himself less clumsy in following her guidance than expected.
Soon enough he held Lyanna's son in his arms, the boy was asleep, lips puckered, tiny hands pulled into fists.
Wylla moved to help Lola with Lyanna but Arthur couldn't move for a moment, lost in staring at the boy in his arms. Lyanna's son. Rhaegar's son. He fought back the tears, here he was and he was the most beautiful human being that Arthur had ever seen.
Wylla cleared her throat and Arthur snapped back to himself, and with one last look at Lyanna he walked from the room, she would make it, fate would not be so cruel as to take her from him, too. It would not be so cruel as to take mother from an already fatherless child.
He took the stairs carefully, knowing that Gerold was likely standing watch this evening as the sun was soon to sink behind the mountains, but Oswell would be down in the guard's chamber. True to his thoughts, Os jumped to his feet when Arthur shouldered his way into the small chamber, hurrying over to close the door again and crowd close.
“It's a boy.” Arthur whispered and pulled the blanket back so Os could have a better look, “Hasn't opened his eyes yet, but the way he looks he'll sure come after Lyanna even there.” He said quietly, smiling over Oswell's awestruck eyes. Contrary to Gerold's steadfast notion to usher Lyanna and her babe off to Dragonstone to join Queen Rhaella as soon as possible to proclaim for a new king, Arthur and Oswell were in silent agreement that disappearing off the face of the earth was the only way to keep Rhaegar's only living child and the woman he had loved safe.
“What was the name again she chose? The Non-Targaryen one?” Oswell wanted to know, gently stroking a tiny fist.
“Jon, his name is Jon.”
“And Lyanna?”
“She lost a lot of blood but she is strong, she will hold on.” Arthur said because it had to be like that, there was no other choice. Lyanna would live, she would raise Jon and Arthur would protect them, and someday they would learn how to be happy again. Oswell clapped a hand to his shoulder and squeezed before freeing him a chair.
For a while he staid down, talked with Oswell and softly rocked the boy in his arms, Jon slept on without a care, completely at ease, but when Wylla came to get him again, Arthur retook the place at Lyanna's side. Keeping Jon in his arms still and telling both women to get clean and take a moment.
It was there, sitting on the bed next to Lyanna's still unconscious form that Jon woke from his little nap and Arthur's gaze was drawn away from Lyanna's chest rising and falling with steady if weak breaths.
First, lips got smacked against each other, then small fists got waved around.
And then two small yes opened.
Arthur's breath got knocked out of his lungs as if a punch had crashed into his chest.
Indigo.
Jon's eyes were a perfect clear beautiful indigo.
The likes of which Arthur had only ever seen in one other pair of eyes.
“You have your father's eyes.” He whispered breathlessly, “You have Rhaegar's eyes.” The tears came then, unable to be held back. Arthur sobbed and wept in joy and grief, in pain and happiness, too many emotions crawling through his veins. He brought his arms up and leaned down at the same time, brushing a kiss against the barely there black hair on Jon's head.
“I will protect you until the end of my days, I swear to you, Jon. My sword is yours.”
--
On the voyage from Starfall to Pentos, Arthur's head was a mess and more often than not, he found himself drifting off. Back to what was, ahead to what could be. Worry about their present situation only clouded over by worry for the future.
The only time he didn't fell into those spells was when he was around Jon.
Only days into their journey, he found himself rarely leaving the boy's side, only leaving when Wylla was nursing him, manners and honors dictating that he left her alone in those moments. Usually seeking out his sister and his nephew then, Torrhen was a joyful little boy who made it easy to forget the trouble that laid behind them and the trouble that might still find them.
And those troubles got positively blown away when this little bundle laid in his arms.
Just like one evening when Jon was seven weeks old and they were closing in on reaching Pentos.
Wylla had only minutes ago fed him but the babe showed no desire to go to sleep again just now and Arthur had only gladly taken him to give Wylla some time to talk to Ashara up on deck while Torrhen snorred the night away in the cabin he shared with his mother.
Jon could only focus the gaze of those beautiful eyes since recently, loving to aimlessly looking around and Arthur wondered just what he was seeing, shapes? Shadows? Colors? Whatever it was, there seemed to be something pleasant for him to see when he laid in Arthur's arms, safely cradled by hands that didn't shake anymore.
He was a quiet babe, never put up much fuss, even when he called to be fed he was quiet in his wailing. Quiet in everything where his cousin was loud,Torrhen couldn't be quiet even when he wanted to, his crying when something didn't suit him was loud enough to wake the dead.
But when something upset Jon, it flew away when Arthur held him.
Rhaegar's eyes in Lyanna's beautiful longish face. A head full of dark curls, already a mess. His little lips, his tiny nose, eyelashes so long and curved.
“You're gonna turn heads all over Volantis when you're older.” Arthur cooed softly and offered a finger up to Jon's right hand, smiling when it was grabbed tight. “You're gonna be the most beautiful of them all, won't you? And kind. And strong.”
Half an hour later when Jon still wasn't showing any sign to settle down for the night – his way of being fussy was still quieter than Torrhen was asleep – Arthur wrapped him into a thicker blanket and carried him up on deck. The crew had gone over to the nightshift, barely anyone was still around so he had no problem in walking to one side and lean back against the railing.
In his arms Jon was still looking around, different lights to be made out now for sure and even while knowing that the boy could not possibly understand a thing he was saying, Arthur tapped a finger softly against that cute button nose and then pointed up at the sky.
“You see those million little lights, Jon? Every single one of those lights is a star, a beautiful star in the nightsky and one day when you're older I will teach you all about those stars. What they mean, what they are called. And just like those stars never failed me, I promise you that I will never fail you either. No matter where we are, if we're together or apart, those stars will always guide our way home.” Arthur said with a smile that felt real for the first time in so long now, no faked ones, just being happy in the moment.
And then something happened he hadn't expected.
The small babe smiled up at him.
Those pinkish lips curled up into a smile in response to his own and Arthur gasped, his own lips pulling up even more.
“You're smiling.” He whispered and leaned down a little in complete awe and amazement, “You're smiling at me.” His heart was growing and warming up, and through it all Jon simply kept on smiling at him as if nothing in the world could have made him happier.
It was like something in Arthur's chest was beginning to heal just then.
--
At one of the nights in their new white house in Volantis, Torrhen had decided to try his hands at his first war against humanity. A simple stomach ache had put the boy into such a terrible mood that his temper had ignited itself into a storm of wildfire.
All day long he had switched between screaming bloody murder or wailing for his mother, only to switch it right back when Ashara picked him up. Jon had not been impressed at all and for a babe of five moons he had an impressive ability to scowl in displeasure.
Still unknown to the city and not really willing to explore with a babe along, Arthur had fled up the little balcony that had already become Jon's and his little corner of the house. It was closing in on evening now but the temperatures still barely showed it and with Torrhen's screaming being rather dulled up here, even Jon looked mighty content.
The sun had disappeared into the sea and made room for the stars in the nightsky, Jon laid snuggled against his chest, a hand fisted into Arthur's tunic.
“I'm glad that your cousin has such healthy lungs but by the gods, Jon, why do we have to suffer for it.” Arthur sighed and stroked a hand down Jon's back. Of course he felt terrible over his nephew being in pain but screaming didn't solve anything. Jon sighed as well, liked to echo Arthur's sounds as of lately.
Sighs. Grunts. Huffs. Even whining.
Even more adorable was it when he broke into mindless babbling and cooing and Arthur talked back to him, then he would break out into those blinding grins.
Now they were both a bit too sleepy for it. Arthur felt more exhausted having listened to Torrhen's temper tantrums than the boy apparently felt over his actual physical activities.
And then suddenly silence.
Arthur even sat up, careful to hold Jon, “Have I gone deaf?” He asked out loud and then breathed out in relief when he heard his own voice, “Well, whatever miracle it was, we better start praying to it.” He told the little boy in his arms who blinked and looked around them. Arthur turned him around and laid down again, holding him up to seat him on his chest. “Don't tell your aunt, but her son took on a little bit too much of Brandon Stark's temper and Ashara's stubborness. Or maybe we should wish for him to be even more wolf, I think howling will be more pleasant than this screaming.”
He made a face, rolled his eyes and gave a playful deep sigh.
And Jon was laughing.
No giggling, no squealing.
Just downright full belly laughing. Clapping his hands about it when he obviously liked the sound that was coming from within him there.
Arthur grinned and watched, knowling fully well that he could not possibly love this child even more.
--
And then came Jon's first word.
Spoken in a rare moment where a letter from home had Arthur so distracted that he hadn't felt the tug on his pants, nor had he seen the boy scowling up at him when he had been ignored.
“Papa!”
Arthur froze, the lines in his brother's letter all blurring together as he very slowly lowered the paper to look down to his left leg where Jon continued to tug on his pants with one hand. The other was stretched up, lips curling into a smile when he saw himself now watched.
“Papa!”
In utter trance Arthur knelt down, letter forgotten as he picked up the nine moons old boy, setting him on his knee. Jon gurgled and then smacked a hand against his chest. “Papa.” He said again, making no mystery at all out of whom he meant.
Arthur couldn't breathe while he gave the boy the hug he wanted, cluthing him to his chest that was burning with something so painful that tears were pooling in his eyes. Content again, Jon wriggled out of his arms again and shot off on all fours towards his toys again.
Arthur was left looking up to catch his sister's eyes from across the room, saw immediately how Ashara was stealing herself for a fight. A fight that happened while the boys were down for their nap after lunch, at which end Arthur was exhausted and reminded on why his father had always praised Arthur's calm against the fire in Andric and Ashara.
“He doesn't have a father.” Ashara said quietly once it was clear to her – and Arthur – that he was beginning to come to terms with this role being actually acknowledged by a little boy who just wanted to be loved. “He doesn't have his mother or his father, but one of those you can replace for him.” And then she had left with a kiss to his cheek.
Arthur's feet had walked him back to the nursery where he sat down and watched over Jon sleep, and hadn't he already called him 'my boy' so often in his mind, hadn't he felt that swell of pride when one of their guests had praised Jon's kindness and his sweetness.
“Papa?”
Four letters that made him feel invincible.
There didn't need to be pain, there could be happiness. He didn't take Rhaegar away from him, someone else had done that, had taken Rhaegar away from Jon and Arthur. They were still here.
“Yeah, I'm here.” He answered Jon who had woken up and was rubbing his eyes before smiling when Arthur picked him up, eyes maybe feeling a little wet, “Papa is right here.”
His reward was a bright proud smile.
--
On the morning of Jon's first nameday, Arthur tried to silently sneak into the boys' nursery to be there when his little boy opened his eyes on his great day. On the left side of the room, Torrhen was quietly snoring, face pushed into the pillows almost, flopped onto his belly, blanket twisted around him, even in sleep the boy couldn't hold still.
On the other side, still sleeping in that prison cell of a crib that the Volantene called appropriate for small children, indigo eyes greeted him with a big grin where Jon was already wide awake and sitting patiently among his blanket and the stuffed monkey.
“Hi.” He whispered and chuckled when hands eagerly got stretched up, making those all familiar crab gestures, Arthur only too gladly picked him up for a hug, “Happy nameday, Jon, even if you have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about.” He grinned and Jon giggled when he was tickled, leaning down wrap his arms around Arthur's neck for a hug again.
He was smart, his little boy.
He had already learned that offering hugs could get him out of tickling most of the time.
Eager to have a bit of time just for Jon and himself, Arthur laid a finger upon his lips and then tiptoed out of the nursery again, Torrhen slept on. He walked them up to what had long since become their spot, no stars to look at today though, just a sun rising higher in the sky over the harbor bay, still a breathtaking view.
He sat back on the lounge chair and settled Jon on his stomach, tiny clumsy hands patted his chest, “Do you know how old you are today?” He asked softly and Jon looked up at him, grinning not because he knew the answer but because he was always so happy. “You are one year old, Jon. A whole year.” He held up his pointer finger and Jon grabbed it with a laugh. “Yes, one whole year. It's barely believable but you've gotten so big already.”
Jon giggled and then squealed when Arthur snatched him up and brought him up into the air over his head, playing dragon just like his father had done it with him ages ago. And that was just what he was now as well, a father. A father to a beautiful smart little boy who looked at him as if Arthur had personally hung the stars into the sky that they liked to watch together so much.
“Soon, you're gonna walk all over this place and then you're gonna run faster than the wind and I'm not gonna need those hours in the pool anymore. I'll stay fit chasing after you all day long.” Arthur mused and set Jon down again, black curls bouncing on his head.
“Papa, star?” Jon wanted to know and hands pointed up at the sky, Arthur laughed and stroked a hand through his curls.
“I fear, Jon, that even your nameday can't bring the stars out during the day.” Jon pouted in response, mostly to the tone in his voice and Arthur smiled, “I promise you, I'll bring you up tonight before your bedtime, then we can watch the stars together again. Stars tonight, okay?”
“Okay!” Jon declared happily and clapped his hands together before laughing and throwing himself down onto Arthur's chest, stretching out arms and legs.
Later, watching Torrhen and Jon play in the garden, faces still smeared with cake, Arthur's turned over the locket in his hands, a thumb popping it open. He smiled at Rhaegar's miniature portrait and then looked over to Jon squealing when Torrhen growled at him.
'I got this.' He thought with that smile growing and the locket being closed again, 'I got this.'