Chapter Text
"You and I could do so many great things together, my son."
He said it with a low voice and Jon swore he could feel a chill traveling through his spine, though it was nothing like the ones he felt when she entered a room; when her bright blue eyes found his, or when she laughed: that heartfelt sound that would reverberate through his whole body like the chords of his old guitar, or his favorite songs he enjoyed listening to endlessly.
This was dread. Complete and utter dread.
"I am not your son."
He wished he had sounded strong and brave and intimidating, but even though his voice was firm it still seemed strange to his ears. He was afraid. Only a fool wouldn't be afraid while being in the presence of one of the most powerful wizards in Britain.
"You can't deny blood, son. You can't deny what runs through your veins, what hums just beneath your skin." There was a hint of a smile on Rhaegar's face, that arrogant, cruel, perfectly collected and controlled face. "Those without power should fear those with it, and it is time the world remembers that. No longer should we live in the shadows. I hope you will eventually choose the right side."
The wizard put a hand on his shoulder like a father would, holding him tight beneath his long fingers. Jon's hand, however, traveled towards the pocket of his trousers where his wand was stored.
She was right, he shouldn't have come here, he shouldn’t have looked for him. She was right most of the time and he reminded himself to tell her that when he had the chance. But before he could say or do anything, a bright light almost blinded him.
Jon Snow knew he was fairly quick at drawing his wand, and he was skilled at spell work, else he wouldn't be a significantly good dueler, but that hex was not conjured by him. He felt confused and at once tried to steady himself, when he suddenly felt a tight grip on his arm. He heard a faint cracking noise, and then came the familiar sensation of his body being pressed in all directions.