A Dragon Kissed by Sun Chapter 23 (A Honorable Knight) (Patreon)

Barristan Selmy

The old knight felt a lump on his throat; his mouth and throat went dry as he gazed at whom he knew was his old sword brother, someone he had respected as a Fellow Knight and Swordsmen, someone he had put his trust in to protect the royal family when the time came for him. The man he had cursed for a while, Ser Barristan had thought of that day so many times in the last six years that he had lost count.

Thinking of ways on how things could have gone differently that day, how the royal family could have been saved if only he had done something different, the many times he had thought if only Arthur Dayne were there, he had been injured, he knew a swordsmen like Arthur would have been able to make a difference, he knew with him, Robert Baratheon would have fallen that day, instead of Rhaegar, his true King.

But he hadn't been; Barristan many times had cursed him for that, but quickly apologizing the next minute, he knew there must have been a good reason for three of his Sword brothers not to be there, and now, after so many years of serving a Pig King, someone who would boast around how he killed Rhaegar Targaryen, saying how he had been a rapist, every time he heard those words, the old knight forced himself not to gut him like a pig, but now that Arthur was in front of him, perhaps now he could actually find the answers to his questions.

Perhaps Ser Jaime was right; after all, he thought, chuckling to himself, perhaps The Kingslayer truly felt the guilt of what happened that day. His attention turned back to the present when a voice reached his ears.

"What do you want here, Ser Barristan?" Who he knew, as Deamon Sand asked with a sneer; the old knight paid him no attention but instead was entirely focused on Arthur, who had his back turned to him, perhaps thinking of walking away.

"I want nothing but talk to an old brother; the winds will not carry our words," Ser Barristan spoke cryptically that only his brother understood, while Deamon was confused, who he knew was Arthur turned to face him fully, hesitating for a moment before approaching him.

His hand rested on the hilt of Dawn, but Ser Barristan kept his hands down, showing him that he wasn't here to fight anyone or cause trouble.

"What do you want, Ser Barristan?" Arthur asked naturally, his tone as empty as an abyss, but his purple eyes were judging him.

"Only answers, old friend, The Words I will hear will not reach anyone's ears," the old knight spoke with a quiet tone, with a friendly smile that Arthur knew too well.

He grunted, not sure what to do; it was a gamble; he wasn't planning on telling him about the prince, but he could tell him that he was still alive; while he never knew all the details, he never understood why Ser Barristan bend the knee to the usurper.

His eyes checked the place around; no one suspicious was around; that was good; he just hoped that his old brother would not spill the beans of his survival. Lord Stark had gone to great lengths to fool everyone into thinking he was dead.

Finally looking at his former brother, he reluctantly nodded, with a gesture of his hand, telling him to follow him but for Deamon to stay behind.

With that, the duo of knights walked away from the camp, and the silence fell over them like a cold blanket; the old legendary knight wanted to ask all kinds of questions, but he held his tongue; he couldn't risk anyone accidentally hearing their conversation.

After walking for what felt like hours, they reached a clearing in a field; near them was a small river that went in the direction of the Trident, birds flying around as the sunshine over them, and green fields as far as the eye could see.

Finally stopping, seeing that they were truly alone, with no one nearby, and even if anyone saw them, they could easily say they were sparring.

Arthur took a deep breath of fresh air, trying to relax himself; despite trying to, his hands were still twitching between the handle of his two swords, something the old knight noticed but didn't comment on it.

Finally turning to face him, Ser Barristan decided to break the silence. "You have changed, but you still look like the kid I used to spar with," He japed, trying to ease the tension. Perhaps talking about the old times would do that.

Ser Arthur felt his tension slowly disappearing before asking the question he had wanted to know the answer of for so many years.

"Why did you bend the knee? Why did you betray Our Prince and King?" He asked with narrowed eyes, his voice calm but dangerous.

Barristan felt offended to be referred to as a traitor of Rhaegar, but he couldn't blame him for his harsh words. "I-I never would; You know what happened in the Trident after I got injured? I woke up to know that our prince was dead, and all hope was lost; Robert told me to either kneel or send to the wall; I almost wanted to tell him to fuck off when I remembered Prince Aegon, Princess Rhaenys, and Queen Elia," he stopped letting His words to settle in Arthur's mind, allowing him to think about what he was saying, Arthur, gave him a look as if not sure if he believed him or not.

"I remembered they would need my help; I couldn't help them if I was sent to the wall; I figured if I bend the knee, I could one day help Prince Aegon to retake his throne," Barristan explained, swallowing a huge breath, his eyes showing sadness, that day still fresh in his mind.

"When I learned that the Mountain butchered them. I-I lost all Hope," Barristan explained, his voice cracking but not crying, his knees felt weak, but he didn't fall.

Arthur pondered on his words; to him, it made sense, perhaps if roles were reversed, he would have bent the knee for the good of Prince Aegon, but despite that, a part of him couldn't easily forgive him.

"After that day, the knowledge that Princess Daenerys and Prince Viserys are still out there is the only thing keeping me going," Barristan added, drawing the attention of Arthur.

"You know where they are?"

"No," Barristan answered with a grim look. "Varys has spoken nothing of their whereabouts; if I had known, I would go out there to find them, but it been over a year that their location is lost," Barristan added quickly. Personally, he didn't trust the spider, but he had no way of knowing the truth.

Arthur knew his former brother was being truthful; that did the trick of perhaps not keeping his guard up anymore.

Seeing that his brother wasn't asking questions, Barristan decided to ask something he desperately wanted to know. "Arthur, where were you that day? Why weren't you in The Trident with our King?" Barristan questioned him with a more serious tone that reminded Arthur that Barristan wasn't some old man that one could order around.

Arthur narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering whether or not to tell him the truth; he believed that Barristan was telling the truth on why he bent the knee, while personally he still felt bitter, he could understand it.

But telling him the truth about why he decided to change it up a little; if Barristan truly wanted to help, he had a lot of chances to prove himself.

"Lord Stark thought he killed me; thankfully, his sword penetrated only inches away from any vital organ," Arthur explained with a blank look on his face.

Barristan simply nodded, it was simply a miracle that he was still alive, but that begged the question, what had his brother done for the past six years? Did he know where Prince Viserys was? If he did, why wasn't he with him, protecting him? If he didn't, why wasn't he searching for him?

"Arthur, w-why are you here? You're with the Dornish camp, with Prince Oberyn; I figured he knows about your survival, but why aren't you searching for Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys? Why is Oberyn even allowing you here? Last time you saw him, your friendship wasn't on the best of terms, and after the death of Queen Elia and her children, I'm surprised he's not blaming you for their death," He questioned, his voice almost sounding authoritative.

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, closing it and opening it, yet no words came out; I can't tell him yet, at least not this soon, and he does blame me; sometimes, even I think it is a miracle that he hasn't tried something yet, he thought before approaching him, putting his hand on his shoulder, his former brother made no visible reaction to show discomfort or distrust.

"The Prince is safe, Barristan; if you want to show your loyalty, keep an eye on a whisper for us," Arthur spoke, his voice cold.

Barristan wasn't a man of politics and the little games that came with it, but even if he knew who his sword brother was referring to; usually he would disagree; he was a knight, and his job was to protect the royal family using his sword and maybe advice every once in a while, but if his prince needed him to watch out for Varys, he would obey it.

"Yes, Arthur, Anything specific?" He questioned him.

"Yes, especially after the rebellion, but someone will give you more information," Arthur informed him before pulling away; without another word, he turned around and started walking away, soon followed by Ser Barristan.

The old knight wondered for a moment if he should tell him about Ser Jaime and his dreams but decided not to, he hated to admit it, but the guilt that the Kingslayer showed seemed genuine and not some kind of sick ploy.

I will need to talk with Jaime soon; maybe There was a good reason that he killed the mad king, he thought, despite their vows to protect the king; now he wondered just what made Jaime snap, convincing him that killing the King and shaming himself for the rest of his life was the best course of action.

Jaime Lannister

The cries of man falling from his sword was the only sound that reached his ears, again and again like a nonstop bell, man after man fought him, trying to kill him, but he killed one after the other with ease; why is this war so boring? He found himself thinking that a battle like this used to make his blood pump like never before; he used to feel alive whenever death looked at him in the eye, yet now he felt like he was doing chores rather fighting a War.

A man left out a war cry when he saw him; Jaime didn't bother to look at his ugly face without teeth, blocking his swing; Jaime cut his throat, leaving the man falling on the mud, gasping for air, desperately trying to breathe, as blood flew out of his throat.

Jaime tasted blood on his lip, not my blood, he thought, before cutting down another man, another, another, another, another, his face red with blood, the taste of iron on his mouth, his sword red, walking through mud, his boots turned black, getting heavier with each step.

Jaime spit out blood from his mouth, his sword cutting down the face of a faceless soldier.

Jaime, Help Me, her voice reached his ears, his eyes widened as his blood went cold, his rage increased as he saw nothing but red; Princess Rhaenys needed his help; with a loud cry, he started cutting down with double the speed, no one stood a chance as he killed everyone on his path.

Soon the sea of enemy soldiers ended, killing the last one; he desperately looked around, trying to find her, but yet she was nowhere to be found; all he could see was the dead person he had killed and the Lannister soldiers cheering on him.

Just as he was about to shout her name, a hand touched his shoulder, turning around in haste only to be met with the concerned look of Ser Barristan.

"Ser Jaime, are you alright?" He asked, worried; Jaime avoided his eyes, looking down in sadness; the sounds reaching his ears felt like echoes.

"Ser Jaime, are-" "I'm Fine," He shouted; not being able to handle it, the old knight gave him an unconvinced look before ordering his men to march forward.

Jaime stood immobile; he barely paid attention to the man passing by him, all he could think of was his failure.

Jon Sand - Months Later

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH," Jon screamed to the darkness surrounding him, the image of her body sliced in two still fresh in his mind; her screams caused him to scream, his little head smashed against the wall like an egg, the little girl calling out for her father as the cursed blade penetrated her skin, blood flowing out like a fountain.

Jon looked around to see, it took a whole minute for him to understand where he was, he was back at his bed chamber, it wasn't true, is a dream, a Dream, A Dream, nothing else, he thought desperately trying to catch his breath, exhaling, inhaling, he felt his tense body slowly relaxing, touching his cheek, only now he noticed he had tears on his face.

I am crying?! He questioned before using his shirt sleeve to wipe away the tears. Breathing heavily, he crawled to the edge of his bed, his feet touching the cold floor, sending chills to his body.

Why am I dreaming about that day? He asked himself, since his father and sister left to fight in the rebellion, his dreams of dragons and the past have been more frequent. The bastard of Sunspear didn't know what to think, he had asked all his sisters, including Ari, but none of them knew what to make of it.

Nymeria offered to sleep with him, thinking he would sleep easier, but Jon refused, saying they were just dreams and he shouldn't be afraid of them.

Jon had thought of perhaps asking his mother but eventually decided to ignore it, but tonight, he had dreamed of that day again; the dream felt too real, and seeing them screaming made him want to tear the mountain apart.

Standing up, Jon poured himself a glass of water, drinking it with a single breath; his throat felt better. Looking outside, he saw it was still night. The bastard decided to try and sleep again; no point in staying awake.

Someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his lungs as hard as they could. He yanked his hand away as quickly as he could and sucked in as much air as he could to calm his burning lungs.

"What the fuck was that?" In between gulps of air, Jon exclaimed.

'Look for me,' spoke a voice.

His head hurt, it felt like a large rock on his shoulders, and he wanted to collapse and let the darkness take him. To relieve the pressure, he began to close his eyes.

'No, friend, look for me.'

It was there again, jolting his mind and eyes open. Even if it was just to relieve the pressure on his body and soul, a pressure that made him feel like a fire, a raging fire ready to spread...and engulf everything on its path.

"I'm going to die, and this cave will be my final resting place." He muttered under his breath.

He continued walking, still hearing the voice instructing him to search for them. "What am I looking for?" He asked himself, hoping for a response, but there was none.

He reached an opening in the ground after ten minutes of walking, with nowhere else to go but down or back. He'd gone too far to turn back now, and the pressure was easing as he went deeper.

"What am I doing here? Once I see Nym, I'm going to kill her." He said this as he approached the hole's edge and dropped down, thankfully not too far.

Jon looked forward, rising from his crouch as he'd landed, and took in the same large cavern that he'd always seen in his dreams. As soon as his feet touched the ground, the pressure in his mind and body dissipated completely.

He took a slow step forward along the path that led to the edge of the crystal clear lake in the chamber's center. Light streamed in through the hole in the ceiling.

"You're Here; we finally meet!"

Jon's eye grew amazed at what was in front of him; resting in the lake was a red crimson Dragon. His mouth was hanging open, no words coming out, not sure what he even was supposed to say. Finally, after some calculating, he said the only thing that came to his mouth.

"Y-you're a D-Dragon," he said dumbfounded before mentally slapping himself. Is that the best he could think of saying?

"Thank you for pointing it out; I didn't know that!" The dragon spoke with what Jon thought was amusement.

How can a Dragon even be amused? Jon wondered out loud, scratching the back of his head.

"How can you talk to me?" Jon questioned him; the water near the dragon reflected his beauty; despite being a beast that many would fear, the bastard thought he was beautiful, especially the red color; it was his favorite color, after all, along with the dark color.

Jon was always fascinated with the dragons; since he had read about them, he always thought they were incredible, especially how they could fly, flying higher than the gods themselves.

"We are bonded, young one; you just need to find me," the dragon spoke, leaning closer to Jon, who was confused.

"What do you mean bonded? I thought only those with Valyrian blood could bond with Dragons?!" Jon asked, confused; this didn't make sense.

Jon had understood for a while now that his father was keeping secrets from him; since he had started seeing dreams about dragons, he knew something was off, but he could easily dismiss it, his fantasy playing tricks with him.

But when he had dreams of the night Aunt Elia and her children were butchered, he knew something was not right, and then there were dreams about Aegon Targaryen and his sister-wives.

His father not being completely honest with him. He had tried to hide it, but it had hurt Jon to know that his father wasn't telling him the truth, but despite that, he knew he promised to tell him once he returned from the Rebellion.

Jon was looking forward to that day, but now, the bastard was already convinced that his mother must have been of Valyrian blood. Still, even if that were the case, Dragon Dreams and bonding with imaginary dragons was something he shouldn't be able to do, no matter if he possessed a tiny bit of Valyrian blood.

"I can feel the Valyrian blood in you; your body is special. The answers you seek can only be given by the person you call father," the dragon spoke with a deep voice.

Jon wanted to ask more when he suddenly opened his eyes, looking around; the pleasant aroma around the air, he was back in his bedchamber.

Releasing a disappointed sigh, he forced himself to leave the bed; it was another day in his home; wearing his clothes, the bastard boy left his bedchamber; as he walked through the castle, he decided to ask his mother a few questions.

Reaching the hall where the royal family ate, Jon was surprised to see his uncle talking with his mother in a hushed tone.

"Good morning, Uncle, Good Morning, Mother," Jon greeted them; they greeted him back, and soon their discussion ended; his uncle left the chamber soon after, leaving him with his mother, who sat close to him.

"Nym hasn't woken up yet?" She asked, eating some toasted bread with sausage covered in spicy juice.

"No, I woke up early, strange dreams," Jon said; his mother's reaction was a sudden stop before returning to eating.

"What dreams?" She asked, with a tone as if she was afraid to ask. Jon frowned before telling her of his dream about that day, not about the talking Dragon.

"I'm really sorry, Jon, you should have called me or any of your sisters to stay with you," she spoke warmly before kissing his forehead, much to his embarrassment.

Soon Jon wondered whether or not he should ask about his doubts; he didn't know if Ellaria knew of his true mother, and he wouldn't be surprised if she didn't.

Just as he was about to ask, the door slammed open, revealing the maester with a scroll in his hands; seeing his expression, Ellaria stood up, stopping him from going to Doran's solar.

"Any news from the rebellion?" She asked quickly with a worried tone, but still keeping it together in front of the maester, who smiled before nodding.

"Yes, my lady, Prince Oberyn informs us the rebellion has ended. He and Lady Obara are alright. They will come home soon," he said; Jon left out a sigh of relief before cheering for his father and big sister, his father and sister were alright, and most importantly, he would get his answers soon.