chapter 202 part 1
Chapter 202: Blood and Fire of the Same Origin 9
Daenerys Targaryen's eyes welled with tears. She shook her head slightly and said softly, "Jon, I will declare to everyone that you are my nephew... my kin."
Jon Snow turned his face away, the back of his hand brushing past the corner of his eye.
Taking a deep breath, Jon turned back to Daenerys, his smile a little shy. "I understand, Aunt Daenerys."
Tears spilled from Daenerys's eyes, trickling down her cheeks drop by drop. A joyful smile spread across her face.
Jon was instantly flustered. He said nervously, "You... don't cry..."
Daenerys wiped away her tears, shaking her head in amusement.
Although she seemed fine, Jon was still concerned. "Are you alright, Princess Daenerys?"
"Don't worry, I'm just so happy."
Daenerys raised an eyebrow, teasing him in high spirits, "My dear Jon, have you never seen a lady weep for joy?"
Jon answered with great honesty, "I've never noticed before..."
He gave an embarrassed smile and continued, "She likes to laugh."
Daenerys smiled, glancing sideways at Jon. "She?"
"Her name is Lenore. I plan to marry her." When he mentioned Lenore, Jon's face was filled with the pure smile of a youth.
Daenerys murmured as if to herself, "How wonderful..."
She added, "I will give you my blessing, Jon."
...
In the gardens of the Magister's Manse, Daenerys and Jon sat in a pavilion, talking and laughing.
*Giggle.* The silver-haired princess covered her mouth as she laughed, while Jon wore a mortified expression.
Jon spread his hands helplessly. "For a while, I didn't even dare to run into him, worried he'd drag me off for another sword fight."
Jon first spoke of his own upbringing, then moved on to what he had seen and heard in the Red Keep. He noticed Daenerys was very interested in matters concerning Lord Glyn, so he told her everything he knew, including... the embarrassing tale of being utterly crushed by Glyn when they sparred... The straightforward northern youth didn't notice anything unusual; he was just happy that his kin was happy.
Daenerys couldn't help but rub her belly. "I suppose... that was some kind of test from Lord Glyn?"
Jon nodded slightly. "I only learned the reason later. It turned out Lord Glyn intended to take me as his squire. Although I lost that honor, I've always been grateful to him."
After a pause, he added, "I could feel that he chose me not for any other... reason, nor did he look down on me because of my status like others did. Lord Glyn is a good man."
During their conversation, they both tacitly avoided the subject of the Usurper.
Daenerys gave a slight nod. After a moment, she suddenly asked, "Jon, I heard King's Landing held a tourney not long ago. Who was the champion?"
Jon shrugged. "Lord Glyn, of course. At least, I've yet to meet anyone more skilled than him."
*He really did it...* Daenerys thought of the first gift Glyn had given her: the crown of the Queen of Love and Beauty.
She had treasured that gift all this time... Unconsciously, Daenerys's smile turned sweet.
The slow-witted northern youth finally noticed something was amiss. He asked directly, "Princess Daenerys, do you like Lord Glyn?"
Daenerys's smile was enchanting. She nodded in acknowledgment and added, "Jon, you can just call me Daenerys, or even Dany."
"I'll give you my blessing as well, Daenerys."
...
In the distance, Viserys Targaryen stared at the man and woman in the pavilion, a cold smile on his face.
"How happy they look... Dik, who is he?"
Dik craned his neck, confirming a second time before answering, "Your Grace Viserys, I heard he just acknowledged our princess as his kin today..."
"Don't waste my time!"
"His name is Jon. It is said he is the child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark."
After hearing Dik's words, Viserys's handsome face twisted, and he ground his teeth with an audible creak.
"The False Spring... a filthy bastard... the root of the rebellion... the Usurper's bloodline..."
Seeing King Viserys standing there motionless, muttering to himself, Dik waited a moment before cautiously calling out, "Your Grace..."
Viserys suddenly broke into a grin. "Good. Very good."
After speaking, he took one last deep look at the figures in the distant pavilion before turning and striding away.
...
Be it Daenerys or Jon, the absence of familial affection during their formative years was like an insurmountable chasm carved deep into their hearts. Both of them longed for the warmth and comfort that only kin could provide.
Daenerys and Jon lacked family, and so they craved it... Their reunion was a rare blessing for them both, one they cherished dearly.
On the very first day they acknowledged each other as family, Daenerys appointed Jon as her personal guard to show her trust in him.
...
The next day, in the morning.
Jon, dressed in well-kept black leather armor, came to a small hall in the Magister's Manse, waiting with the others for Daenerys's arrival.
A middle-aged man, balding but with a sturdy build, caught Jon's attention. To be precise, what drew his eye was the sigil embroidered on the man's dark green tunic—a black bear rampant.
House Mormont of Bear Island? Jon pondered the man's identity as he strode over.
Jon took the initiative to bow. "Good day. I am Jon Snow."
Ser Jorah's expression stiffened slightly. He returned the bow. "Good day. I am Jorah Mormont."
Jorah Mormont? Jon's expression turned cold... He had heard of him from his uncle Eddard—the man who had shamefully fled to escape punishment for the crime of selling slaves.
Jon said coldly, "I didn't expect to find you here."
Ser Jorah stared at Jon. "It seems... you know me, bastard of Winterfell."
Jon's brow furrowed. "Mormont, you have lost your honor."
Ser Jorah looked Jon up and down. "It was Eddard Stark's twisted justice that stole my honor like a common thief."
One of Jon's hands moved to the hilt of the longsword at his waist. "A slaver is not fit to speak of honor. It is a stain upon the very word."
Ser Jorah's hand also came to rest on the hilt of his sword. "I had every right to deal with the poachers who trespassed on my lands as I saw fit. Their crime was death."
Jon stared at Ser Jorah and said icily, "That is no reason to sell men into slavery."
Ser Jorah snorted. "You truly are a Stark."