Returns a Hero

A warcry cut through the morning air. With that call, the first wave of Targaryen men rushed the castle walls, screaming and hollering as they were cut down by a flurry of arrows while the survivors hastily erected what ladders they could by the outer wall. Another call cut through the air, followed by another wave of loyalist men rushing into the mix. Some getting picked off by archers, but most reaching the ladders and beginning the rushed ascent. By the time of the third cry and wave, the Blackfyre defences were breaking.

It had been months of chasing the foreign bastards across the sea, carving through their allies while they retreated further and further away from the Iron Throne's reach. Jon and Aegon had led the collation retrieve Danaerys with a **** that was made up of thousands of enthusiastic young men ready to serve the two heirs to the Throne in their journey to reclaim the stolen princess, but in Westeros proper it was looking more and more like a fool's errand. King Rhaegar had been furious of course, knowing that his little sister had been kidnapped as a broodmare for the Blackfyre scourge, but as his health grew worse and pressure mounted from those at court, even he had to stop giving aid.

The brothers would not be swayed though, and after almost a year of seemingly endless bloodletting, the two had finally cornered Blackfyre and his last supporters to a tiny island in the Stepstones where they were hid inside an ancient ruin, Danaerys still with them.

"This is it brother," Aegon told him, adorned in his crimson armour and with defiant glint in his eye, "we'll save Dany and end this threat once and for all."

Jon nodded, clenched his sword hilt, "From your lips to the Gods ears brother."

The younger of the two Targaryens sucked in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then released. Before him the men had breached the castle walls and managed to open the gates for the rest of the attack ****, and with that Jon felt himself slip into conflict. He rushed forward with his personal guard, hacking through every member of the Golden Company he could lay his eyes on. It felt as though time slowed to a mesmerising crawl as his sword cut a crimson path through the swarm of screaming enemies, his sword lifting and moving as if it was another limb on Jon's body. More than once he felt a pang of pain as he was struck or nicked by an enemy weapon, but it was a distant thing in his mindless flow through combat.

Before he knew it, he was within the castle proper, covered in grim and gore with a deep throbbing pain in his arm from the exertion. Aegon was suddenly at his side, looking no better. Along with their guards they stormed through the castle until they came upon the lord's chamber, cutting through what men remained until they came upon Blackfyre himself, his throat opened and a bloodied Danaerys standing over his corpse. She was weeping and it was apparent that she had endured much, but she threw herself into Jon's arms when he approached.

The journey back was not overly long, and much of it was spent with Jon and Aegon doing their utmost to be there for their aunt as the bad memories continued to haunt her. It was during this time that Jon noticed just how devoted his brother seemed to be to their aunt, how deeply he was shaken by her ordeal and when they returned to the capitol Aegon publicly his attention to make Dany his bride.

While it was seen as a shock by many it was mostly smothered under the celebration of the realm after having the Blackfyre threat finally put to a definitive end. Jon in particular was praised for his military successes and King Rhaegar announced that he would fund to more properly restore Summerhall so that Jon might rule as its prince.

It was during the celebratory feast that Jon encountered Margaery once more, looking absolutely radiant in her form fitting dress of gold and green. He embraced her the moment he spotted her, casting protocol to the wind as he pulled her into a deep kiss and inhaling her unique taste.

"By the Gods," he breathed when they parted, "I have missed you."

Margaery beamed up at him. "And I you, my love."

"Almost a year of that madness," he shook his head, weariness falling in on him, "it has been far too long since I beheld your beauty," he looked her in the eye, his voice low and raw, "how is...?"

Lady Tyrell smiled at him in an alien way. "She's fine," she turned about suddenly and waved over another woman. She stood of a height with Margaery, and indeed looked as though she could have passed for his betrothed's sister; with the same chestnut curls falling down at her shoulders, the same golden eyes, same heart shaped face. The woman looked perhaps twenty, though Jon could not say for certain, but she was dressed in the Tyrell colours in a dress that complimented her figure excellently.

"This is my newest lady in waiting, Alys," Margaery said, taking the girl's arm within her own. "She has been so very helpful in your absence."

The girl smiled at him enigmatically and gave a curtsy, "My Prince,"

"My lady," Jon bowed low, took her hand and kissed it, "I am honoured." He turned to his betrothed, smiling despite his confusion, "you two share a look...I take it you are kin?"

Alys smiled up at Jon deviously. "Oh yes, closely related in fact."

Jon opened his mouth to respond, when he heard the king call for him from up on the dais. Jon winced at his father's sickly voice and gave his apologies to the ladies, hurrying to return to the old man's side. Rhaegar spoke of recent reports from Essos about the Golden Company's dissolution and with a weary smile, cupped his son's cheek. "You have served the realm well," he exhaled, his eyes watery, "within the next month I shall have allow Aegon this wedding he has desired so....if my time is to come, and I feel that it might be soon...I am comforted in the fact that I will have left the kingdom in the capable hands of my boys...thank you, son."

Jon embraced his father, struggling with his own tears. They sat and talked for a time, but eventually Rhaegar grew tired and had to be escorted to his chambers after encouraging Jon to enjoy himself. Jon did just that, drinking and dancing and laughing with his brother and their friends well into the night. Eventually the night drew to a close, and Jon, more than a little drunk, slowly made his way back to his chambers.

"My Prince," the voice was pleasant, and when Jon turned around he found Lady Alys standing before him with a mischievous smile on her face. " You're not going to bed already, are you?"

Jon laughed. "My lady, the festivities have ended."

Alys looked down, bit her bottom lip and then looked up at him with the most intoxicating expression of raw lust he had ever seen. "What if you and I kept things going?"

Before he could truly respond the woman captured him in a hungry kiss, her tongue slithering into his mouth and exploring every possible inch of it. There was something strange about the woman's taste, a kind of fruit taste that had Jon hard within moments. They fumbled together for a while trying to devour one another, hands groping, bodies grinding before Alys broke away, smiled up at him and lowered herself to her knees. She never broke eye contact as she opened his breeches and took out his throbbing cock.

"My lady," he groaned, overcome with lust, "someone might see..."

Her eyes flickered upward, meeting Jon's as her lips parted, the head of his cock slipping into her warm and wet mouth. Alys half closed her eyes as she kissed the crown, then with care she took more of Jon's length into her mouth. She sunk further and further until she had taken just about all of Jon's length down her gullet, making a content little sound when she heard Jon moan, her eyes warming with a smile.

Alys head bobbed up and down slowly, as though in time with a rhythm only she could hear, her tongue playing with Jon's manhood all the while. One of her hands came to rest lightly on Jon's thigh as the other reached up between Jon's legs to dig out more of his flesh from within his breeches. Finding her target, she began to lightly cup his balls, her eyes gleaming in triumph.

There was something hypnotic about the way her eyes remained fixed on Jon's, as though she was the most devoted priestess in service of some ancient god. The feeling was madness, and soon Jon found himself releasing spurt after spurt down the woman's hungry throat, watching transfixed as she gulped it down eagerly.

Slowly she drew her mouth from his cock, leaving it coated in saliva. She grinned triumphantly up at him then. "Might we take this back to your chambers, My Prince?"