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Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories:
F/MM/M
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Game of Thrones (TV)House of the Dragon (TV)A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Relationships:
Jon Snow & Daemon TargaryenJon Snow & Rhaenyra TargaryenJon Snow & Aemond "One-Eye" TargaryenJon Snow & Aegon II TargaryenJon Snow/Helaena Targaryen
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Jon SnowDaemon TargaryenRhaenyra TargaryenOtto HightowerAemond "One-Eye" TargaryenAegon II TargaryenAlicent HightowerHelaena Targaryen
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Forced adoptionProtective Daemon TargaryenPossessive Daemon TargaryenPossessive Targaryen'sTime TravelUnreliable Narrator
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English
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← Previous Work Part 2 of Jon Snow Vs the Targverse
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MainCharacterJonSnow, House Targaryen Being A Chaotic Incestus Dumpster Fire, Lions. Dragons. and Direwolves Oh My!, Maeve Ks ASoIaF Fics....In Progress and Otherwise, Must Read: Again and Again, 🌑 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 🌑, ⭐️Megan's List of Highly Recommended⭐️, THE 🎵 UBIQ 🦋 ☠ THE 🎭 UNIQUE 🌹, Not to be misplaced, Wibbly Wobbly Time-y Wimey
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Published:2023-02-21Updated:2024-07-24Words:86,389Chapters:28/32Comments:3,772Kudos:8,997Bookmarks:2,970Hits:529,991
Be careful what you wish for
IronicallyPresent
Chapter 3: The Kingsguard
Summary:
Jon blows off some steam. We see what Sir Criston makes of his 'rivals' bastard son
Notes:
Warning! Unreliable narrator. This is implied for most chapters but I wanted to put it here, especially for this one.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When talk began to spread about Prince Daemon's bastard son, Criston was not surprised. Of course, a man such as the Rogue Prince would have a bastard, he probably had several. That was the man Rhaenyra chose, the man she had always chosen. He, Sir Harwin, and even Sir Laenor were just placeholders in her grand game.
He had been a fool to let the Princess' pretty visage blind him to the wickedness that lurked beneath. But Criston saw it now, Rhaenyra was no gentle maiden like Queen Alicent. She was a lustful creature just like her beastly uncle, they were well-matched.
It was a pity that Sir Harwin, for all he was praised for being the strongest knight in the realm, lacked the strength to refuse Rhaenyra's charms. The man had been a good knight and a competent leader of the city watch, but he had thrown all of it away over access to the Princess' cunt. A fool, a dead fool.
Criston had created a picture of the bastard boy in his mind. Hair pale like his accursed father, perhaps the eyes would differ… blue? Or brown? But undoubtedly his father's son. Criston could just imagine the arrogant slant of the boys brow, the cruel slash of his smirk. The rogue Prince struck miniature.
Yet what arrived at court was not at all what the knight had been imagining. When Criston first laid eyes on the boy known as Aemon Snow, he did not recognise him. Criston mistook the boy at first for a member of the Princess's household, perhaps a guard or even a page. It was only when Prince Daemon put a possessive arm around the boy's shoulders did Criston realise his identity.
Aemon Snow was not in fact his father in miniature, he looked far more similar to his fellow bastard cousins. It seemed the children made from Valyrian and First Men heritage had an appearance that was set in a hard mold.
Still, Criston had expected the boy to at least mirror his father's character, for all he failed to mirror his looks.
Once again he found himself surprised.
When the King received his daughter, her husband, and the bastard. Criston had expected the boy to swagger forward with all the falsely claimed confidence of a lordling riding on their father's coattails. Instead, Aemon Snow had walked forward slowly, almost reluctantly. He had kept his eyes down respectfully bowing to both the King and Queen, something his father and stepmother had neglected to do. The boy had also spoken only when spoken to, and made no attempts at bragging about his newly claimed dragon. Though in fairness his father bragged plenty enough on his behalf. Prince Daemon waxed poetry about how his son had claimed that monstrosity. Boasting how the boy had the dragon acting like a tame pup. Criston had scoffed at that claim, there was no such thing as a tame dragon.
Stranger still, in the two days since his grand presentation to the court, Aemon Snow had been surprisingly absent.
Until now that is.
"Ser Criston" the bastard greeted, pausing from where he had been examining the training steel. "I did not think there would be many others at the training grounds at this hour."
"Hoping there would be no one to watch you train?" Criston couldn't help but smirk, striding over to the younger man.
"Honestly... Yes, I'm not used to having so many eyes on me. I do not enjoy the attention."
Criston reeled back as if the boy had struck him. The son of Daemon Targaryen not liking attention, it seemed an impossibility.
"You seem surprised Ser Criston?" said the boy, noting the shock on the knight's face.
Opting to speak as plainly as the boy, the Kingsguard replied bluntly, "that was not the reaction I expected from the son of Daemon Targaryen."
The bastard grimaced, flicking his eyes at some of the onlookers that had begun to gather on the edges of the training fields.
"Yes, everyone has been making quite the point of how little I take after Prince Daemon. Seems I fail to live up to expectations..."
Criston couldn't hold back his snort, "that's not necessarily a bad thing, boy."
The knight moved past the bastard and took one of the training blades in hand, "what weapon do you favor then?" he asked.
Smiling mirthlessly the boy replied, "the bastard sword."
Criston handed him one of the blades that he thought would be well-balanced to the boy's build. It was ironic that he favoured such a weapon, but it certainly suited him.
"Let's see if you do share a similarity with your father. Being knocked onto your arse by me."
Their swords crossed, and it was here that Criston's world tilted further on its axis. The boy moved like shadow and smoke, his bastard sword an extension of his arm. Where Criston expected the wild aggression of Daemon, he found measured patience. Where he anticipated boastful flourishes, he discovered efficient economy of movement.
Their dance began slowly—thrust, parry, riposte. The boy met each of Criston's probing attacks with perfect defensive technique. No wasted movement, no flashy counter-attacks. Just the quiet confidence of a man who had learned his craft in true combat, not tourney grounds.
Frustration began to gnaw at Criston's composure. He increased his tempo, his attacks growing fiercer, more precise. Still, the boy's defense held firm. Steel sang against steel, their footwork raising small clouds of dust from the packed earth. A growing crowd gathered at the edges of the yard, but Aemon seemed to pay them no mind, his dark eyes focused solely on Criston's blade.
The Kingsguard's legendary control finally snapped. His next strike came not at the boy's blade but at his exposed neck—a killing blow, even with the blunted training sword. Before Criston could regret his anger-fueled mistake, Aemon moved seamlessly. He twisted away from the strike, and in the same fluid motion, swept Criston's feet from beneath him. The Kingsguard's momentum carried his sword into one of the wooden pillars bordering the training yard, where it stuck fast.
The silence that followed was deafening. The greatest swordsman of the Kingsguard lay in the dust, at the mercy of a bastard boy. The crowd held its collective breath, no doubt expecting the son of the Rogue Prince to take his vengeance for the near-fatal strike.
Instead, Aemon lowered his blade and turned to retrieve Criston's sword from the pillar.
"Here... Would you like to continue? I believe that pillar got in the way." He offered the weapon back, hilt-first.
"You... would not claim this as a victory?" Criston asked, bewildered.
"In a real battle? Yes. An accident like that would get you killed, but this is just training. Accidents happen, I doubt I would have beat you if I hadn't had a lucky pillar!" The boy's smile held no trace of mockery.
An accident, it had been an accident...
For all the boy's modest claims appealed to Cristons pride, he knew in truth that the boy may very well have won the fight even if Criston hadn't gotten his blade stuck. The boy must have known this too but he made no mention of it, no gloating, no rubbing it in the elder's face. The young man behaved honorably.
Rising to his feat Sir Criston offered the boy his palm, and when he took it they shook hands. "Well fought lord Aemon."
Aemon blushed, turning away to head to the sword rack. "I'm no Lord Sir... And I prefer Jon."
Placing his sword beside where the boy had returned his own, Criston asked "Jon?"
"It's the name my uncle raised me with" answered the boy. "My mother named me Aemon, but my uncle chose Jon after his own foster father."
"I suppose a Valyrian name like Aemon, may have made your true parentage obvious." Criston said matter of factly.
"Quite" the boy agreed. "Prince Daemon has been making a point of referring to me by Aemon... And insisting everyone else does also."
"Does that make you uncomfortable?" Criston inquired, stepping closer to the dark-haired youth.
"No." The boy lied
Criston felt that old anger rise up within him. Jon was an honorable young man, one that showed skill and promise with a blade. He had nothing of his father in him, a gift they could likely lay at the feet of the boy's departed uncle. But now Prince Daemon had forced himself onto the scene, claiming the boy for his own and going as far as to insist on the name the boy must be referred by.
"I would very much enjoy a rematch Jon, perhaps you could join me in training with your cousin Prince Aemond?" Criston asked, thinking quickly about how to give the boy some much-needed distance from his tyrannical sire.
The entire situation left a bad feeling in the Knight. Prince Daemon would corrupt this boy, he'd twist the honorable young man before him into some perverse mirror of himself. He did not imagine the Princess would do much to stop her husband either. In fact, Criston realised with growing horror, Jon looked awfully similar to the late Commander of the City Watch, save for the odd Valyrian feature. Just Rhaenyra's type, and Daemon would no doubt take pleasure in the act, seeing the boy as little more than an extension of himself...
He could see it now, the two coming at the young man as a united front, pretending it was all a means of welcoming him into the family. A boy such as Jon who had known little parental guidance wouldn't know the difference until it was too late. The Kingsguard fought off the gasp that threatened to breach his lungs, the Targaryen's truly were a perverse lot. Yes, Criston decided, he would do what was in his power to protect this young man. Integrating him with his trueborn cousins would be an effective start, the children of Queen Alicent being the noblest of the boy's kin due to the influence of their mother's blood.
"I would be honored, Sir." The boy agreed, much to the knight's relief. "I should take my leave now however, thank you for the spar." and with a slight bow of the head the boy jogged out of the arena, and away from the onlookers that had begun to gather round.
Sir Criston Cole paid them no mind, and began to set the arena up for Prince Aemond's training session. All the while thinking smugly about how he had uncovered, and made plans to counter, the rogue Prince's latest plot.
Notes:
Soo as I said at the start Criston's POV was super biased and wrong. I wanna make it clear Criston thinks he has connected the dots and he hasn't connected shit. Rhaenyra and Daemon's relationship with Jon will be a purely parental (not necessarily healthy) relationship. I feel like even the Targs have a line 😂
Also For all Jon seems to be playing nice, we have to remember this boy has a lifetime of biting his tongue and hiding his true thoughts on others. Show!Jon didn't really reflect that, but book!Jon is defo a lot more politically savvy. While my Jon is gonna be somewhere in the middle, he defo realised that Criston meant him harm, and was going for the kill them with kindness method... It worked too well!
If anyone wants to chat more about the fic or the asoiaf fandom in general my Tumblr is @ironicallypresant
Up next Aegon wakes up to a beautiful stranger!
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