Archive of Our Own

It was from his bedchamber window on Dragonstone that Rhaego saw Jon Snow for the first time. 

Missandei had woken him that morning, something that usually his Mama did, so he’d already known then that it wasn’t going to be an ordinary day. They were expecting visitors. That’s what Missandei had told him while she had tried to work a comb through his sleep-mussed hair. He never understood why she even bothered, it would look just as rumpled the next morning. And he didn’t mind. But Missandei was always gentle and she had clever fingers, so he didn’t mind the combing too much either. The reason why she was so good at it, she had told him, was because she always helped his Mama with her hair and she’d done so for many years. ‘That must take ages’ he’d replied and Missandei had laughed. ‘I’ve gotten better over time,’ she’d said, ‘but you, my sweet, certainly wouldn’t be able to sit still long enough.’ And she’d been right. ‘I don’t have to,’ he’d declared then, ‘my hair is not as long as Mama’s.’ It was true. While his Mama’s hair went all the way down her back, his only reached his chin. It was also much darker. ‘Like caramel,’ Missandei often said. Rhaego didn’t know what caramel was, but his Mama had once explained to him that his father’s hair had been dark, even darker than his, and he’d passed it on to him. His father had been a Khal and a warrior, and he’d died when Rhaego had still lived in his Mama’s belly. He’d also had long hair, like his Mama’s, and he’d always worn it in a braid. Among the Dothraki, long braids meant strength. Rhaego thought he was strong, too. And he’d be even stronger once he was as tall as Ser Jorah. He knew that because Ser Jorah had said so himself and Ser Jorah was a knight. Knights never lied and they didn’t need braids to show their strength. Rhaego found he didn’t need one either. 

When he had washed and dressed, Missandei had left to fetch them some breakfast. He’d asked if they could eat in his chambers this morning and she’d agreed: ‘But it will remain an exception and only because it’s a special day.’ As soon as the door had closed, he’d climbed up on one of the wide stone window sills, his favorite vantage point from where he had a good view of the beach below. In the distance he could see a big ship that had dropped anchor a few hundred yards from shore and a smaller rowboat that had been pulled out of the water and onto the beach. They’re here already. He turned his head and spotted several figures walking up the long stairs towards the castle. Lord Tyrion and Lord Varys. They were the easiest to recognize, even from such a distance. Rhaego giggled. He knew Lord Tyrion hated those steps. His legs were even shorter than Rhaego’s and climbing stairs was an exercise that required much more effort than it did for people of average height. It was also extremely funny to watch. Rhaego liked Lord Tyrion, so he always tried his best not to laugh whenever he was around. Now, however, he was well out of earshot and that was a good thing. 

After a while, watching Lord Tyrion got dull and Rhaego focused on the people that were accompanying him. He could see several Dothraki Kos and Grey Worm was there as well. Rhaego shifted onto his knees excitedly and pressed his nose against the cold windowpane. These guests had to be important people for his Mama to send both the Kos and Grey Worm to welcome them. Next to Lord Varys there was a grey-haired man Rhaego had never seen before. That must be one of them. Much more fascinating still was the man walking beside Lord Tyrion. He was wearing leathers and armor and he looked like a knight. His hair was dark. Not caramel, Rhaego thought, more like fresh coal. It was tied back but he didn’t wear a braid, even though he would probably be entitled to one. He looked strong, Rhaego found.

The party had almost reached the last set of stairs in front of the castle entrance when Rhaego spotted the dog. He squealed with surprise. Had it been there the entire time? How had he not seen it until now? It was a very impressive dog, so tall its head was level with Lord Tyrion’s and his fur was as white as the linen on Rhaego’s bed. He was still gaping at the marvellous creature when he heard Rhaegal screeching overhead and looked up. His brother had come to say hello. Rhaego waved at the dragon before turning his head to get another look at the white dog before it would disappear behind the massive castle doors along with everyone else. When he realized the group had stopped moving he was confused for a moment. Both the grey-haired man and the knight had dropped to the ground and lay crouched on the stone steps. An attack? Rhaego felt his heart beat a little faster. No. Everyone else seemed fine. Even the dog was unimpressed. And then he saw the amusement on Lord Tyrion’s face as he pointed towards the sky and he remembered what his Mama had told him about the people of Westeros when they had left Meereen. They believed all dragons to be dead. And we have come to prove them wrong. 

It was out on the grass-covered cliffs of Dragonstone that Rhaego spoke to Jon Snow for the first time. 

By then, he already knew that the big white dog wasn’t really a dog. The dog was wolf, and he was so big because he was a special wolf. People called them direwolves. This direwolf belonged to the knight. Missandei had explained to him that strictly speaking, direwolves didn’t belong to anyone. That’s what the knight had said. But the wolf went everywhere the knight went, or maybe it was the other way around. Whichever was true, Rhaego thought it was appropriate to say they at least belonged to each other, the knight and the wolf. The knight's name was Jon Snow and he was from the North. His Mama had told him that. Every time she said his name - and she did so quite often ever since he'd arrived - Rhaego thought her voice sounded funny. He’d also found out that the the wolf’s name was Ghost. He thought that was a very clever choice and that he most likely would have picked the same name. For the first week he’d only gotten to watch them from his window. Whenever he'd caught sight of Jon Snow and Ghost wandering around the island - something they seemed to do quite often since they’d arrived - he’d pleaded with Missandei to let him go outside. He was itching to see them from up close. But she hadn’t let him. ‘Lord Snow is your Mama’s guest, Rhaego. We are not to disturb him.’ 

It was a sunny and unusually warm day and he was in the courtyard with Ser Jorah when he saw Jon Snow and Ghost leaving the castle and heading towards the open gates. Jon Snow nodded at Ser Jorah in passing before exiting the courtyard and beginning his trek down the long stairs. Rhaego felt his stomach doing somersaults. They had been so close. Close enough for him to see the two wolves embossed on Lord Snow’s breastplate. Only heroes wear armor like that, he thought. So of course, when Ser Jorah left to fetch their practice bows from the armory, he bolted. He knew there was a good chance his Mama would get cross with him later, but he was sure it would be worth it. When he reached the first step he spotted Ghost almost at the bottom, Jon Snow slightly behind him. And so Rhaego ran, as fast as he could, jumping two steps at a time before finally reaching even ground and continuing his pursuit through the soft grass. The knight from the North turned around when Rhaego had almost caught up with him. Ghost had stopped as well and both were looking right at him. Rhaego came to a stumbling halt and only then noticed the burning in his lungs. This was perhaps the fastest he’d ever run. He’d certainly tried. He looked over to Ghost. The wolf was taller than him, but Rhaego didn’t feel any fear. His eyes were dark red and dangerous, but the look in them was kind. When Rhaego turned back to Jon Snow he saw that the knight was smiling. It was a bit odd and it didn’t look like something Jon Snow did a lot. And yet it really suited him. It, too, made him look kinder. Maybe knights are not allowed to smile often, Rhaego thought. He would have to ask Ser Jorah about that. 

“It seems you are completely useless as a guard dog, Ghost. We were being followed and you didn’t care to warn me even once?” 

Jon Snow shook his head at the wolf, then turned to Rhaego and opened his mouth to say something, but Rhaego was quicker. 

“But he’s not a dog! I thought he was when I saw you arrive. But it was from far away and I couldn’t see properly. Missandei says Ghost is a direwolf. She says you said so yourself!” 

Jon Snow laughed and this time it already looked much more natural. Maybe he was simply a bit out of practice. “Missandei isn’t lying. I did say that. And I suppose he’s a bit big to pass as a dog anyways.” 

“She also says I’m not to bother you. That’s why I had to run so fast. I wasn’t supposed to leave the castle.” His guilty conscience was nagging him and the confession spilled out before he could stop himself. 

Jon Snow nodded. He wasn’t laughing anymore. But Rhaego could tell by the way the corners of his mouth were twitching that he probably wanted to. It helped him breathe a little easier. 

“Why would she think you would bother me?” 

Rhaego took a moment to ponder the question. He really wasn’t sure, so in the end he took a guess: “I think it’s because you’re a knight. And you must be a special knight because my Mama already has knights in her guard but she still invited you to come and visit us. Her I mean. Maybe my Mama wants you to go on a mission that only you can carry out and that’s why. I’ve asked Missandei but she won’t tell me anything. She’s very good at keeping secrets.” 

Jon Snow had listened to him carefully and it made Rhaego proud. Maybe he’d gotten it right and Jon Snow would tell him more about the grown-up things that were always discussed in rooms Rhaego wasn’t allowed to be in. 

“Did Missandei say I was a knight?” Jon Snow was smiling again and Rhaego wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. He’d really enjoyed being taken so seriously. 

“No, she didn’t have to. I saw you before she did and I can tell. I know a lot of things about knights. I have books on them and Missandei reads them to me. And Mama does, too. Knights are men of the highest honor and they are always brave and the best warriors. They protect the ones they are sworn to with their life if need be. And they wear armor, like yours.” Rhaego still knew many more things about knights. They were the heroes of his favorite stories that he had heard so many times he could recite them from memory. But when he noticed Ghost standing right next to him and sniffing his arm, he got too distracted to continue. The wolf wasn’t nearly as big as Rhaego's brothers. Ghost was about eye level with him and Rhaego liked that. He loved Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal very much. They were the reason he rarely ever got scared, not even when other people around him did, even adult people. He always knew that his brothers would protect him. Although they were basically the same age his brothers were bigger and stronger than anyone else he knew and they would never let any harm come to him. 

When Ghost moved to sit on his hind legs, his eyes never leaving Rhaego’s, Rhaego raised a hand and carefully brushed it over the fur at the wolf’s neck. It was even softer than he’d imagined. 

“I think you’ve made a new friend.” Jon Snow nodded his head at Ghost. Rhaego could only smile. He’d been thinking about this all week. And when Rhaego remained silent, Jon Snow added: “Are you going to tell us your name? I suppose you do have one, right?” 

“I’m Rhaego,” Rhaego said.  

“It’s a pleasure, Rhaego. I’m Jon.” 

“I know,” Rhaego replied, and then started laughing because Ghost was licking his face.

It was on the ship that took them north that they had breakfast together for the first time.

Rhaego sat next to Jon on the bench beneath the window that looked like a circle. It was raining outside and Rhaego was glad he didn’t have to be on deck like the crew did. He felt bad for the men and imagined that they were probably really cold out there. But for the moment, he was too content to worry about it further. Ghost had found his regular spot by Rhaego’s feet and when Rhaego stretched out his legs he could feel the wolf’s soft fur with his toes. 

Across the table from Rhaego sat his Mama. Rhaego thought she looked very beautiful, even more beautiful than she usually did. Of course to Rhaego, his Mama was the most beautiful lady in the whole wide world. He knew she was the Queen and therefore always wore elegant dresses and jewellery and hairdos. But Rhaego liked her best without all of that. He liked it when she was only his Mama and nothing more, when her hair was loose and flowly and her face was soft and smooth except for the little dimples in her cheeks that appeared when she smiled. 

Rhaego had come to the conclusion that his Mama had finally started to enjoy being on a boat. And he was glad because he’d always found it very exciting ever since they’d first boarded one back in Meereen. His Mama hadn’t liked it as much. She'd never gotten seasick like Lord Tyrion had, but she had often been very tense and restless. But it was different this time. He’d noticed it from the very first morning aboard when she'd come to wake him, and every morning since. Rhaego didn’t quite know what it was exactly. Maybe it was the bit of sparkle in her eyes, or the slight swing of her hips when she walked. When she kissed him goodnight she smelled a little sweeter and when she gave in to his nightly pleading and lay down with him, holding him against her until he fell asleep, her skin felt even warmer than it usually did. 

“I want to live on a boat forever.” 

His Mama was drinking from her tea cup when Rhaego said this and she made a funny sound and then coughed and sniffed and Rhaego expected to see some tea coming out through her nose because that usually happened whenever he choked on a drink. But it didn't and he turned to Jon because Jon was laughing, too. 

“You mean you wish you could live on a boat forever?” 

“No,” Rhaego said earnestly, “I really want to and I think we should. And so does Ghost.” 

Jon shrugged. “I was under the impression Ghost didn’t like boats.”

“But he does when he’s with me.” Rhaego didn’t in fact know that for certain, but it was most probably true. Ghost had been by his side almost the entire time they’d been on the boat. He even slept in his cabin. On the first night he had scratched at Rhaego’s door until one of the guards had gone to find Jon. Jon had let Ghost inside and he had curled up in front of the bed where Rhaego had slept and that’s where Rhaego had found him the next morning. 

“Fair point,” Jon agreed and then turned his eyes towards Rhaego's Mama with that special look on his face again. It reminded Rhaego of the way his Mama often looked at him. Except when he’d been naughty. She made an entirely different face then. Whenever Jon looked at Rhaego’s Mama it seemed she was all he saw and there was nothing and nobody around her. Rhaego thought it made Jon look like a young boy, even though he wasn’t entirely sure why and how that was possible. 

That night, when his Mama came to tuck him in, Rhaego asked her why she had laughed when he’d said that he wanted to stay on the boat. 

“Oh, I’m sorry sweetling,” she said and brushed his hair back from his forehead with her soft fingers, “I wasn’t laughing at you, you see. I was laughing because Jon keeps telling me the exact same thing.”

Rhaego’s eyes lit up in surprise and he asked: “So he agrees with me?” 

His Mama smiled. “I think he does. I think he enjoys being on this boat every bit as much as you do.”

“What about you, Mama?” 

She gave him a kiss on the tip of his nose before she replied: “I enjoy being here with you.”

“And with Jon?” 

She hesitated for a moment. “Yes. I enjoy that he’s here, too. Is that alright?” 

A quiet yowl came from where Ghost lay next to the bed and Rhaego giggled.

“I like him.”

Rhaego’s Mama nodded and her eyes had gone a bit shiny when she said: “I like him, too.” 

It was in the middle of Winterfell’s courtyard that Rhaego met Arya and his Aunt Sansa for the first time. 

He had wanted to jump off the carriage himself but his legs were so stiff from the cold he almost fell off when he tried and Ser Jorah came and picked him up. He also offered a hand to Missandei who’d ridden in the carriage with Rhaego and Rhaego thought that was very nice of him. Missandei’s legs were probably just as numb and cold as his. From the vantage point of Ser Jorah’s arms Rhaego looked around and only then saw that they were surrounded by crowds of people he had never seen before. He knew his Mama would rather have him walk himself, but his legs didn’t want to at all and so Rhaego didn’t really have a choice. His Mama would understand. He wrapped his arms tightly around Ser Jorah’s neck and Ser Jorah understood, like he always did. “Don’t worry. I got you, lad.” He said it in his whisper voice so that only Rhaego could hear him. 

Lady Sansa Stark had long hair just like Rhaego’s Mama, only that it was brown and red and it reminded Rhaego of that special spice that Missandei liked. She was very beautiful, yet Rhaego also noticed that she looked a bit sad. Maybe, if there hadn’t been so many people around he might have asked her why. 

Even though both Lady Sansa and Lady Arya were Jon’s sisters, Lady Arya looked much more like Jon than Lady Sansa did. However, none of that really mattered at all when Rhaego spotted the sword and the dagger at Lady Arya’s hip. He had never seen a warrior woman before. When Ser Jorah stepped in front of Lady Arya and introduced both himself and Rhaego, she only nodded, entirely straight-faced and rather unimpressed. But then her eyes caught Rhaego’s and for a moment there was smile on her face and she gave him a funny wink. It only lasted for a second but Rhaego understood. We’re allies. It was Lady Arya’s and his little secret and it gave Rhaego a warm feeling in his stomach. Maybe, just maybe, leaving the ship hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. 

That night, Rhaego let Ghost sleep in his bed with him. He didn’t have to say anything. When Rhaego woke up shivering and teeth chattering so hard he sounded like a woodpecker, the room cold despite the fire still burning strong in the hearth, Ghost got up from his position on the floor and silently climbed onto the bed, settling his warm body right next to Rhaego’s. The pleasant warmth and sense of safety soon lulled Rhaego back to sleep, despite the loud voices that carried through the wall from what he knew was his Mama’s chambers. They sounded angry. Or perhaps unhappy. Rhaego hadn’t forgotten about them the next morning, but he wasn’t certain if maybe it had just been a dream. After all, he had dreams almost every night. And he knew by now that not always, but every once in a while, they even became true. That was why he sometimes got confused. About what was dream and what was real and what might eventually become real. 

That was also the reason why, when a few days later Arya talked to Rhaego about the Night King and and his army for the first time, he wasn’t surprised or scared. He had seen them. It had been the night after his Mama had come back from helping Jon and Ser Jorah and had told him that his brother had died. He had slept in his Mama’s arms that night, just like he had done when he had still been a little baby still only drinking from her breast. He had dreamt of them. They had been so many, far too many to count. And while they had looked filthy and evil, Rhaego didn’t remember being frightened. He’d been sad, mostly. About Viserion, of course, but also because he found the dead deserved better. His Mama didn’t believe in the night lands and the fiery horses. She didn’t believe in anything she couldn’t see with her own eyes. She said it was no use. But Rhaego thought it was a good idea to believe in something. Irri had sounded quite confident when she had told him about the horse lord and the night lands. Just for her sake Rhaego wanted to believe that story was true. 

“For thousands of years they lived beyond the Wall. A big, massive wall made of ice. It’s kept Westeros safe from the dead for all these years. A really, reeeeaaally long time. But for a reason we have yet to discover the Night King has recently decided to march south after all.” 

Arya was sitting on a low stool close to the furnace and Rhaego next to her. It was very hot, but Rhaego liked it. The snow was fun to play with, but the cold he hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. After breakfast, Arya had taken Rhaego out for a stroll around the castle and then they had decided to visit Arya’s friend Gendry the Smith at the forges. They had been coming here a lot and Rhaego didn’t mind at all. His Mama and Jon and Ser Jorah and Missandei had all been very busy since they’d arrived. He only ever got to see them for meals and before bed. His Mama had also been very stressed. Rhaego could tell by the little wrinkles between her eyebrows that hadn’t gone away in several days. Most nights she was so distracted she couldn’t even finish his goodnight story. She was always in a hurry to get back to the meetings. Rhaego didn’t really know what was discussed during those meetings and he had given up asking because no one would give him a proper answer anyways. It was different with Arya. She never told him he was too young to understand. And Rhaego thought she was right. He understood plenty. 

“Is he a deadman, too? The Night King? Like his soldiers?” 

Gendry the Smith took a pair of pliers and carefully lifted the sword hilt he was working on from the anvil and placed it in a bucket, the hot steel giving a loud hiss as it struck the cold water inside. This was definitely Rhaego’s favorite part.

“He might be”, Gendry the Smith replied, “but my understanding is that we don’t really know for sure. All we do know is that he’s not like us. He’s not human. He doesn’t need to eat or sleep.”

“Fat lot of help that knowledge is to us.” Arya grumbled. 

Gendry the Smith laughed and Arya stuck out his tongue at him. But Rhaego knew she wasn’t being serious. Arya liked Gendry the Smith. There was no question about that. 

It was in the forest that the people at Winterfell called the godswood that Rhaego solved a problem for the first time. 

The night before Jon had come to Rhaego’s room at bedtime, just like he’d done every night that they’d been at Winterfell. On the ship, he and Rhaego’s Mama had sometimes come together. Those nights had been special. Instead of reading from one of Rhaego’s books they’d made up a bedtime story together. As it turned out, Jon was a surprisingly talented storyteller, and characters like Chester the lovesick horse and the four fiddling fishermen soon became reoccurring favorites. Rhaego missed them. 

‘Why are you sad?’, Rhaego had asked Jon when he’d sat down at his bedside, still wearing his leathers and sword belt. Jon had looked tired. His eyes had had red rims and dark circles under them. Jon had shaken his head slowly. ’I’m not sad. I’m … confused. Or maybe I’m sad. I don’t really know. Sometimes, life gets too complicated, you know. At least when you’re an adult. Adults are stupid like that. We tend to make things much more complicated than they have to be.’

‘You’re not stupid,’ Rhaego had said quickly and Jon had smiled, if only with his mouth and not his entire face. ‘I’m glad you think so, Rhaego,’ he’d replied. 

‘We should have stayed on the ship,’ Rhaego had known it all along, 'Arya could have shared my cabin. And there was enough room for Lady Sansa and Gendry the Smith as well. And even Lord Bran!’ 

The smile on Jon’s face then had looked much more like his real smile. ‘So you don't like Winterfell?,’ he’d asked and Rhaego had nodded quickly. ‘Yes, I do!’ He had raised one hand from under the blankets to hold up and count on his fingers: 'I like the snow even though it’s always cold. I like the towers and the forges and the kitchens. And I like the horses. And Ghost sleeps in my bed, I like that the best.’ Jon had raised one eyebrow and Rhaego had laughed because Jon had looked so funny and also because Jon had already known anyway. But then he’d remembered what he’d meant to say and stopped. ‘But everyone is unhappy now and I don’t like that. It was better on the ship.’

‘I know,' Jon had sighed, ‘Believe me, I know.’ 

When a knock had sounded on the door after breakfast with Missandei the next morning, Rhaego had run to open it himself. He had expected to find Arya as usual, but instead Jon had stood there, two wooden swords in one hand and a leather bag in the other. Rhaego had squealed excitedly and jumped from one leg to the other, and then of course hadn’t been able to hold still while Missandei had tried to bundle him into as many woollen shirts and coats as possible. The wool was itchy but for once Rhaego didn’t mind. 

Jon had taken him to the stables first and Rhaego had smiled proudly at every guard and maid they had passed. Most of them had smiled back or winked at him. After all, Jon was their King. That’s what Arya had said, anyways. 

It had been a ride on Jon’s horse around the castle and several rounds of Blind Knight later that they had both needed a break. Rhaego hadn’t been to the godswood before, but upon sitting down by the little pond next to the tree with the old man’s face, he couldn’t really tell how it was any different from normal forests. 

“It’s a sacred place to the people here in the North,” Jon tried to explain, “kind of like a church, or a temple. People come here to pray, to have a conversation with the gods and ask them for favors or for forgiveness.” 

Rhaego nodded and moved closer to Ghost and the welcoming warmth of his fur. Ghost had followed them around all morning and was now settled in between Rhaego and Jon, lazily lying on his side, altogether unbothered by the frozen ground. When Jon opened the leather bag he had brought and revealed a cloth bag filled with oatmeal cookies and handed one to Rhaego, Ghost lifted his big head and sniffed eagerly. Rhaego laughed and shared gladly. 

They sat in silence for a while, chewing and taking turns drinking from the waterskin Jon had brought as well. Rhaego felt content. And calm. It was a nice feeling. So much had happened since they’d arrived in this new country. Everything had been new and strange and sometimes he’d felt like his head was spinning with all of it and all he’d wanted was to go back to Meereen with his Mama and his brothers and Ser Jorah and Missandei and see his friends again and sleep in his old bed in his old room at the Pyramid. He realized now that he didn’t miss his old home as much anymore. And if they ever went back, he would want to take Jon with them. And Arya, too, and all of his new friends. He would have to ask his Mama about that. And then, all of a sudden, Rhaego had this strange feeling again, like a rope that was bound around his chest too tightly. He’d had it before, and most recently just last night, when his Mama had left the dinner table early after talking to Jon with her whisper voice for a long time. Rhaego hadn’t been able to understand their words, but he had still been able to tell that they hadn’t been happy with each other. 

“Do you not like my Mama anymore?” 

Jon turned to look at him. “What makes you think that?”

Rhaego thought for a moment. He wanted the adult answer, so he felt he needed to try to ask the adult question. But it wasn’t an easy thing to explain. 

“You liked her back on Dragonstone,“ he began pensively, “and you liked her even better on the ship. And after we left the ship on the road you still liked her.” Jon nodded and Rhaego felt encouraged to continue. "I can tell because a lot of people like my Mama. Especially knights. But you like her differently. More, I think. You like her as much I do. And I love her. Missandei says that’s as much as people can like each other.” 

Jon leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. Rhaego could only see half of his face but still recognized that certain expression only adults ever managed, a confusing mix of sadness and joy and maybe a little bit of wonder.  

“I believe people can like each other endlessly,” Jon replied and Rhaego thought his voice suddenly sounded like he had a cold and a sore throat. 

“Yes, but love is always at the very top,” Rhaego explained confidently. It earned him a chuckle from Jon, though he didn’t really understood how what he’d said had been funny. 

“But you don’t love my Mama anymore?” He hadn’t forgotten his initial question. 

“I … ,” Jon shook his head slowly and Rhaego felt his heart drop, “I do. I … I love your Mama, Rhaego. I love her and I don’t think I can ever go back to not loving her. She’s the best person I know. The very best. I’m just not sure it’s right.” Rhaego let out all the air he’d been holding in his lungs. Adult conversations weren’t easy at all.

“Are you cross with her then?” 

“I’m not. But I reckon she is with me. For good reason. I haven’t really been myself since we arrived here. ” 

Rhaego frowned. “Who have you been instead?” 

Jon smiled, but it was crooked because he only used one side of his mouth. “That’s something people say when they mean that they have been acting differently than they normally do because … I guess because they are confused.”

“Why are you confused?” Rhaego didn’t see how these things had anything to do with each other but was also quite sure this was his only chance to finally get some answers. 

"Inquisitive and persistent just like your Mama.” Jon noted with a short laugh and then took a deep breath. “You see, I found out that the man who I thought was my father isn’t really my father. He’s my uncle and both him and my real father are dead. I thought I had a family, brothers and sisters … but as it turns out, nothing is as I believed it was. 

Rhaego thought that sounded like an odd story, but still he couldn’t quite figure out how his Mama fit into it at all. 

“My father is dead, too.” Missandei had once told him that when someone was sad, a good way to comfort that person was to let them know they weren’t alone with their pain. “I never knew him because he died when I was still living in my Mama’s belly. He was a Khal so he went to the night lands.”

“I know, Rhaego. I’m sorry you never got to meet him."

Rhaego shrugged. "I think if I found out somebody else was really my father and he was also dead, it wouldn’t matter to me. Because it wouldn’t make a difference. Mama always says not to look back. The living are the ones that matter, not the dead. And she also says family is not only about blood. It’s about loyalty and trust and friendship. Missandei doesn’t have our blood and she’s our family. And so is Ser Jorah."

“Your Mama is a wise woman, isn’t she?”

Rhaego shivered. He had been so absorbed in their talk he had forgotten how cold it was. Jon stretched out an arm towards him, smiling when Rhaego crawled over Ghost and snuggled into his side. 

“I think so,” Rhaego pondered. “She knows a lot about many different things.” 

“She does.”

“Then why do you think it’s wrong that you love my Mama?” 

Jon took another long breath. Rhaego realized he did that quite a lot. 

“Because my real father, the one that I never met, he was your mother’s brother.” 

For a moment, Rhaego was completely still, not sure if he had heard right. But he had, he knew he had, and so wiggled free and jumped up, throwing his arms around Jon’s neck and hugging him tightly. 

Jon gave a surprised grunt. 

“You’re our family,” Rhaego said in his whisper voice. He had wished for it, not knowing it had been true the entire time. “I didn’t know! You’re our blood and you’re our friend. You’re our real, real family.” 

Jon stayed silent for a long while, holding Rhaego’s much smaller body against his chest. Rhaego could feel Jon’s breathing, deep yet a bit unsteady, and so he just stayed where he was, snugly sheltered against the cold wind that had picked up. 

“I am,” Jon said eventually, “we are.” 

“So you got it all wrong, Jon! It’s only right that you love Mama,” Rhaego concluded. Family always loved each other, didn’t Jon know that? “See, I love Mama, and I’m her family, too.”

"It’s a different kind of love, Rhaego.” Jon moved his legs so that Rhaego could sit on his lap. He suddenly sounded very sad again. 

“I don’t think so,” Rhaego shook his head, “Because love comes from the heart, not from the head. And how would the heart be able to tell the difference?” 

It was in Sansa’s bedchamber that Rhaego had to say goodbye for the first time. 

Of course, strictly speaking, he had said goodbye before, many times even. But this goodbye was different, new. Rhaego was scared. And that was new as well. 

He had slept in Sansa’s bed. It was dark outside when she gently woke him, but they hadn’t seen the sun in many weeks, so it was Sansa’s nightgown rather than the lack of daylight that gave away how early it still was. He sat up and saw his Mama and Jon standing at the side of the bed. They were dressed in armor and furs and Rhaego knew what that meant. They had talked about this. But he hadn’t wanted to think about it and had therefore rashly promised to be brave and strong when the moment came. Now that it was here, he wished he hadn’t done that. His Mama was crying and Jon was holding her and Rhaego felt a pain in his chest that almost knocked him back. Don’t go, he wanted to say, don’t leave me. Please. 

He reached for them then with outstretched arms, feeling helpless and suddenly so little, and they both came, sitting down on the mattress on either side of him. Rhaego climbed into his Mama’s lap, one arm wrapping around her neck, the other reaching for Jon. It was a short moment of calm and peace. Rhaego in his Mama’s arms, her wet kisses on his cheeks, they both safely cradled against Jon’s chest. 

But they couldn’t stay, Rhaego knew. They were the Queen and the King and the people of Westeros dependent on them. On them, on his brothers, and on their armies. The Night King needed to be defeated so that the people could live safely and in peace. They had explained it to him and he had listened and understood. Rhaego wanted to be brave and strong, and he was. He just didn’t know if it would be enough.

“I love you, baby,” Rhaego heard his Mama’s whisper voice say into his ear, “I love you to the moon and back and twice around the sun … “

“… and all the stars in between,” Rhaego finished for her, his voice muffled with his face pressed into the soft skin at her neck. 

When they finally got up and tucked Rhaego back under the blankets and furs, the tears started to fall. He had tried, very, very hard to will them away. It hadn’t worked after all. A last kiss from both and Jon took his Mama’s arm, guiding her towards the door. It was the pain plain on their faces as they moved away from him that was too much in the end. He leapt from the bed and tore after them. He could hear his Mama’s stifled sobs but never made it to her. Sansa scooped him up and the door closed behind Jon and her with a thud. 

He cried until his head hurt and then a little more until no more tears would come and he lay exhausted against Sansa’s shoulder. She had rocked him and quietly sung to him and Rhaego was so glad she hadn’t left as well. He still had a family. 

It was in Winterfell’s Great Hall that Rhaego attended a wedding for the first time. 

Everyone had dressed up and Rhaego thought it was all a very fancy affair. His Aunt Sansa had made him a new tunic and vest and Missandei had cut his hair. They had soaked him in a bath and scrubbed him from head to toe, Rhaego was sure he had never been so clean in his entire life. There wasn’t a single trace of dirt left under his fingernails. 

Even Arya was wearing a dress. She’d fought about it with Sansa for several days and only given in because Jon had paid her. ‘With real coins?’, Rhaego had inquired quite astounded and Jon had laughed. ‘It’s called a bribe. It’s only allowed as a last resort when absolutely nothing else will work.’ Rhaego had agreed. He hadn’t expected to ever see Arya in a dress. And yet when he did, Rhaego thought it suited her, despite the crutches she still needed to walk because of her injured leg. She looked very pretty. Everyone did. His Aunt Sansa had made sure of it. But of course nobody came close to her. His Mama was so beautiful it almost seemed like she belonged somewhere else, in a place where she wouldn’t stand out like she did here. Rhaego would have sworn Jon’s eyes hadn’t left his Mama even once, and when Jon almost walked into a table, painfully hitting his knee on a wooden sitting bench, Rhaego secretly laughed a little. When he looked up at the high table he saw that his Mama was laughing, too. She looked so very happy, the worry and exhaustion that had lined her face for weeks gone now, replaced by soft pink cheeks and a new glimmer in her eyes. It made Rhaego feel tingly and excited and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sit still for much longer. 

Luckily, the music started only shortly later and after the first dance that was for his Mama and Jon only, the empty space in the center of the hall quickly filled up. Rhaego danced with Missandei first, the next slow waltz with his Aunt Sansa and then several rounds on Ser Jorah’s shoulders until Ser Davos came and handed Ser Jorah a cup of ale and Rhaego new they would be talking for at least the next hour. 

Next he found Jon and together they went to fetch Rhaego's Mama. Rhaego on one arm, the other around Rhaego's Mama, Jon twirled them across the floor until Rhaego’s Mama laughed and begged for mercy. 

Tired and happy, his hair slightly sweaty and his cheeks flushed red from all the dancing, he found her later, sitting at a table with Arya and Lord Tyrion. She smiled at him and he crawled onto her lap, shuffling around a bit to find his usual comfortable position in her arms. But lately, something just seemed different. 

“Mama, where am I supposed to sit? There is no room for me.” 

She laughed softly and turned him around so that his head rested against her chest. “There will always be room for you, my sweet. Always.” 

He drifted off and only briefly awoke in his dimly lit bedchamber as Missandei pulled the bedsheets and a blanket over him and placed a kiss to his forehead. 

This day he would certainly remember forever, Rhaego was sure of it. 

It was on the first day of Spring that Rhaego was told he would be a big brother for the first time. 

The day hadn’t started off too well. He had woken up only to find Ghost’s usual spot by his beside empty once again. To Rhaego’s great dismay, this had happened quite frequently lately. By now at least, he knew exactly where to find the wolf. Rhaego hadn’t bothered with his robe or slippers. The snow was finally melting outside and his destination had only been a few doors down the hallway. 

When he had opened the door that lead from the solar into his parents’ bedchamber, he had promptly spotted Ghost at his Mama’s bedside and sighed disappointedly. Of course. 

Only then did he realize that his parents were both awake already, his Mama calling out a surprised ‘Oh gods!’ and breaking into a fit of oddly high-pitched giggles while helping Jon untangle himself from the bedsheets he’d been hiding under. Had they been playing games without him? 

Rhaego’s mood was getting lousier with every second and he scowled at his Mama who had reached out her hand towards him, wanting him closer. 

“Why is Ghost always sleeping in here now?”, he demanded, pointing an accusing finger at the white wolf asleep on the floor. Ghost was supposed to be his friend. When his Mama got Jon, he got Ghost. It wasn’t fair that he had to sleep alone while the rest of his family got to be together. They were leaving him out and he didn’t like it one bit. 

His Mama turned to Jon and they had a silent conversation with their eyes in a secret language that only they seemed to understand. They did that all the time and Rhaego usually didn’t mind. But today it made him furious. 

“You’re being mean!”, he wailed, “he’s my friend and you’re taking him away from me!” 

Rhaego knew he was being bad, but he couldn’t help it. Nor could he stop the angry tears rolling down his cheeks. 

His Mama sat up, shifting to slide her legs from under the covers but she was moving oddly and slowly and Jon was much quicker. He hopped to his feet and gathered Rhaego up from where he was standing by the door, bringing him to where his Mama was still sitting and putting him down between them in the middle of the bed. His Mama reached for him again and he complied, if only reluctantly, because she was his Mama and he would never not want his Mama. She leaned back against the pillows and he snuggled into her side, still snivelling but slowly calming. 

“You know we’re not taking Ghost away from you, right? He’s your friend and we would never do that.”

He felt his Mama’s soft fingers stroking through his hair soothingly, and he buried his face deeper into her chest. She smelled like sleep and honey and home. 

“We couldn’t, Rhaego,” he heard Jon’s voice next to him, “he wouldn’t let us. He cares for you too much and will always protect you, no matter who tries to tell him otherwise. You’re part of his pack.”

“Then why is he always staying with you?”, Rhaego said into his Mama’s nightgown. 

Jon chuckled. “Not with me, he isn't. It’s your Mama he doesn’t leave alone.” 

Rhaego raised his head and sat up. “But why Mama?”

Jon lifted Rhaego and turned him so that they both sat facing her. “Remember how I told you that in a pack, the stronger wolves always watch over the youngest and keep them safe?”

Rhaego nodded, looking at his Mama’s face. She was smiling at them, but her eyes had gone shiny. Was she sad? Was this a sad story? 

“Aye,” Jon continued and reached for the furs covering Rhaego’s Mama, pulling them down to her waist and gently lifting her nightgown to expose her bare belly, “I’m afraid you’re no longer the youngest in the pack.”

Rhaego frowned and turned his head to look at Jon’s grinning face. Had he gone mad? After all, he had hit his head pretty  badly when he fell off Rhaegal during the big battle. Rhaego had heard stories before, of people losing their minds after they hurt their heads. 

Rhaego’s Mama took over. “You’re going to be a big brother, Rhaego, “ she said with a nod towards her hands around her belly. 

Rhaego blinked. Had she always looked like this? So … big? 

“What do you mean?” Rhaego felt that somewhere in the back of his mind, just beyond his grasp, he knew the answer. 

His Mama took one of his hands in hers and brought it to the side of her belly. Her skin was warm, just like it had always been, but her stomach was rounder now, like she had swallowed a small melon. No, Rhaego thought, that doesn’t make much sense. Melons didn’t grow in Westeros. They didn’t like the cold, Missandei had said. 

“There is a baby growing in my belly, darling. Your little brother or your little sister. We will find out when he or she is ready to come out.” 

Rhaego sat completely still, “A baby?” 

“Aye, a baby,” Jon agreed and placed his hand over Rhaego’s. 

Rhaego had once lived in his Mama’s belly. It had been a long time ago when he’d still been too little to live in the world outside. His Mama had explained it to him. He had grown and grown and after many weeks he had finally been ready to come out. His Mama had waited so long for him that when she finally held him in her arms she almost couldn’t believe he was real. She always smiled when she told that part of the story and it was Rhaego’s favorite, too. He had been born in a tent in the Great Grass Sea with a full head of dark hair and his Mama’s eyes. 

And now there was a new baby inside his Mama. It was a strange thought, but he had to admit it made sense. 

“I will have a little sister.” Like Arya, Rhaego thought. I hope she will be just like Arya. 

Jon nodded. “I think so, too. But your Mama is sure we’re getting another boy."

Rhaego saw that a tear was sliding down his Mama’s cheek and he carefully reached up his hand to wipe it away with his finger. 

“Don’t be sad, Mama. You still have me. And Jon. We’re both boys. And Rhaegal and Drogon. Oh, and Ghost! You will like a girl, too." 

Both his parents laughed. 

“How long do we have to wait for her to come out?” He hoped it wouldn’t be too long. He wasn’t very good at waiting. 

“We will have to be patient for a few more weeks, my sweet,” his Mama replied. “Do you think you can share Ghost for a little while longer?” 

Rhaego turned his head to look at Jon and then back to his Mama. He grinned. “It’s alright. I was sad because I didn’t know before. I want Ghost to protect my sister. When she comes out, I will help him. We can keep her safe together.” 

His Mama’s eyes had once again become shiny and she reached for him, hugging him against her tightly and pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“You are the best big brother this baby could hope for.” 

Rhaego couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he remained silent and simply stretched out a hand to his Mama’s belly, gently placing it over where the baby was inside. He certainly wanted to be a good big brother. And he thought it was possibly something he could be good at. After all, his big brothers had always been good examples. They’d always made him feel safe and he wanted to do the same for his sister. She should never know fear. 

A thought crossed his mind then and he sat up, kneeling between his parents on the bed. “How did the baby get in your belly, Mama?” 

“Oh,” she laughed, “you should ask Jon. He knows all about that.”

Everyone had gathered in the courtyard to say see them off. His Aunt Sansa had cried when he'd hugged her and he’d wanted to tell her that he’d much rather stay, but that would've only made her more sad. Arya was coming with them, which was a comfort, Rhaego thought. But there were many other people he would miss dearly. 

When he had said all his goodbyes he went to stand by his Mama’s side. 

She put an arm around his shoulder and said in her whisper voice: “Are you ready, my love?” 

He turned to look up at her, and then at his baby sister she was holding. Elaena was still very little. But not as little as she had been the day Rhaego had met her for the first time. She’d been so tiny and Rhaego had been scared he might break her when Jon had put her in his arms. But he hadn’t. It had turned out he really was a pretty good brother. He always helped Missandei dress the baby in the morning and when Elaena cried at bedtime - and she could cry very loudly -  he patiently rocked her in her cradle and sung to her until she was sound asleep. However, his favorite times of the day had become when Elaena was feeding. His Mama always made sure to nurse her either sitting in the big arm chair or on the bed where there was enough room for Rhaego to curl up next to her. During those times, his Mama was only there for them. They talked, or she told him a story. And sometimes, Rhaego told her one. He knew she liked that. 

Rhaego was worried all of that would change now that they were going to King’s Landing. His parents had said it wouldn’t have to be forever. But they had to go. Sometimes, Rhaego wished they weren’t King and Queen. Things might be … easier. But his Mama always said that they had a responsibility to their people. That they needed leaders that were strong and kind and just. Rhaego thought that the people were very lucky they had gotten such fine rulers. 

“Yes, Mama,” he nodded, “I’m ready. But I will miss home.”

She smiled at him. “So will I, Rhaego. I miss it already.”

Everyone began to mount their horses then and his Mama and Missandei went to climb into the carriage that had brought Rhaego to Winterfell all these months ago. But he wouldn’t ride in it today.

“Best hold on to the mane,” Jon instructed from behind him and Rhaego did as told. Jon’s horse was much taller than the ponies Rhaego was used to riding. This was unfamiliar, but very exciting. 

They rode through the gates and out onto the gravel road. The trees were finally budding into the first leaf of spring and the sun was becoming stronger every day. He could see it, and he could smell it: spring was here. 

He turned around to look back at the castle that was getting smaller and smaller in the distance. 

“We will come back, son.”

“Promise, Pa?” 

“I promise, Rhaego.”