Disclaimer: I don't own Jon or any other characters or the world, though the story line is mine as far as I know and/or can remember. If I am mistaken, don't sue me, be a man and message me, provide evidence, and we'll handle it like gentleman. Thank you. And I don't own the italicized passage of George R.R, Martin's. And for future references, Dawn and Longclaw will be longswords, not a greatsword and a bastard sword. For an idea of how they look, see the Big Bad Wolf sword from Zombie Tools, but with a dark gray Valyrian steel blade for Longclaw with a wolf head pommel, as well as a star pommel on Dawn with it's milkglass blade. Also, Ice is still a greatsword, but it's more a normal sized greatsword rather than a fuckin' giant one.
Black Sheep, White Wolf
Chapter 1: When One Dies, Another Is Born
In the Red Mountains of Northern Dorne, a lonely tower stands, almost blending in with the gray sky, so deep and brewing that a thoughtful glance at the gray plain above the heads of men could exert a sense of foreboding depression. This, is the Tower of Joy. The screams of a woman echo from the top of it like a banshee, further instilling a present sense of fear felt by the seven men who rode up, clad in riding leathers with minimal armor, swords still sheathed and helms at sides. These men were Ned Stark, Howland Reed, Lord William Dustin, Ethan Glover, Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull,and Ser Mark Ryswell. They stopped just shy of three men in beautiful, blazing white armor and cloaks, shining like lights against the dark setting, these men being Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell, and Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard. The seven men, new to this scene, dismounted and ventured closer to the three knights of the Kingsguard, and stopped within ten feet.
"I looked for you on the Trident," Ned said to them. "We were not there," Ser Gerold answered. "Woe to the Usurper if we had been," said Ser Oswell. "When King's Landingfell, Ser Jaimeslew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were." "Far away," Ser Gerold said, "or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells." "I came down on Storm's Endto lift the siege," Ned told them, "and the Lords Tyrelland Redwynedipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them." "Our knees do not bend easily," said Ser Arthur Dayne. "Ser Willem Darryis fled to Dragonstone, with your queenand Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him." "Ser Willem is a good man and true," said Ser Oswell. "But not of the Kingsguard," Ser Gerold pointed out. "The Kingsguard does not flee." "Then or now," said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm. "We swore a vow," explained old Ser Gerold. Ned's wraiths moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were seven against three."And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawnand the blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light. "No," Ned said with sadness in his voice. "Now it ends."
The seven men charged the three opposite them, and the fight for life began. William Dustin, though a good man, and brave, was not the brightest and made the mistake of lunging for the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne, only to find nothing with his sword, instead finding the infamous Dawn on himself, from neck to naval, slicing him wide open as shot past where Ser Dayne crouched. His decimated body hit the ground with a thud, and his life force spilled out onto the dirt as he slipped into a sweet silence, comfortable beyond belief, unlike any a man had ever experienced before, save for similar situations.
Howland Reed and Ned Stark engaged Ser Gerold Hightower as Glover and Wull fought Oswell, cutting him down though not before Oswell skewered Glover through a lung, and Martyn Cassel and Ser Mark Ryswell cautiously circled Ser Arthur before Wull joined them. Ned and Howland took turns hacking and slashing at the Lord Commander Hightower, barely scraping him, growing ever more frustrated. But then, Ser Gerold landed a well calculated blow across Howland Reed's neck, seemingly cutting his throat ear to ear, Reed hitting the ground. A cold rage overtook Ned Stark at the expected loss of his friend, and he fought with renewed vigor, before finally laying Ice, the ancestral sword of the Starks, into Gerold's knee, following up with a thrust through the Lord Commander's heart. Ned held the old knight as he watched the light drain from his eyes, a fabled knight, dead by his blade, as the battle raged on.
Wull, Cassel, and Ryswell attacked Ser Arthur simultaneously, their total three against Ser Arthur's two, Dawn and an unnamed blade of regular, castle-forged steel. Arthur blocked Wull and Cassel, sidestepping Glover's thrust and letting the momentum of his movement carry his body out of the line of travel of Cassel, followed closely by Dawn pulling away from Cassel's sword and sliding across Glover's jugular in a quick, and deadly motion. He then spun and swung at the back of Theo Wull's knee, though Theo had moved his leg out of range. Ser Arthur eyed and squared up with Wull and Cassel as Glover lay on the cold ground, choking on his blood, much of it spilling out onto the ground surrounding him. Dayne charged, spinning Dawn and the adjacent blade in his hands, hitting Cassel's blade from above, followed by a side swipe at Wull's sword, then a jab at Wull's eye, scraping Theo on the cheek, spinning and swinging at Martyn, ringing Dawn against Martyn's sword, though Cassel was quick enough to move it mostly out of harm way, lest it be shattered by the pure strength and precision of Dayne and his Valyrian steel blade. Ser Arthur brought it around in a full circle, going downward and then upward in an arc, forcefully bypassing Wull's sword as he spun on his feet, digging Dawn into right above the hip of Theo Wull, the dead man. As Theo dropped, Arthur Dayne slid his sword out of the dropping, lifeless body, spinning around to face Martyn Cassel and the newly joined Ned Stark.
The Dayne nodded at the two men, and they nodded back at him. Stark thrust at Dayne with the greatsword Ice as Cassel threw a probing hack at Dayne's shoulder from his left side. Arthur knocked Ice out of it's path with Dawn as he stepped towards Martyn's blade, catching it with the sword not named, and threw a jab at Martyn's unprotected stomach with Dawn. Cassel jumped back just in time to miss the brunt of the strike, though it did cut him a bit above the belly button. Arthur stepped back to dodge the side strike sent by young Lord Stark, throwing his own strike, but with both blades, at Ned's head and neck. Ned ducked under the blades and as Arthur took a step back to avoid whatever strike was coming next from Ned, Martyn Cassel, running, jumped off of Ned's slumped back, thrusting his sword at Ser Arthur's neck with all of his might, only for Dayne to duck his head and point both his blades upward allowing Cassel to land on them, releasing a moan as he slid down the duo of steel, stopping as he came to rest with his chest against Ser Arthur's with his face a few inches from the white knight's as his legs gave out in shock. Still somewhat unable to register the swords in his sternum, sticking out of his back, his sword dropped out of his hand and he attempted to say something, though nothing came out save for a line of blood coming from his throat, and beginning the trail down his chain and neck. He searched The Dayne's eyes for confirmation or comfort, or anything he could find, and found respect and sympathy. Arthur lay Martyn on his back, and put his sword, downwards, back in his right hand, before placing the hand and blade on Martyn's chest, blade resting between the two sticking out of the Northman's rib cage. Arthur grabbed Martyn's left hand and placed it, firmly clasping Cassel's right hand.
"You fought bravely, my friend. And now, you die well," Ser Arthur told Martyn Cassel, before he rose from his position crouching over the man's body, and Dayne stuck his foot on the nearly dead man's shoulder before pulling his blades out of Martyn, killing the warrior almost instantly. Ser Arthur turned around to spot Ned Stark standing a few feet away, watching the scene in sorrow.
"It never... It didn't have to..." Ned began before Ser Arthur interrupted him.
"I vow I shall bring your blade to your successor, if you should do the same for me," Dayne promised to the silent wolf.
"Aye, very well. So be it," Ned agreed, proceeding to place the tip of Ice between the raised Dawn and parallel blade.
"Whoever leaves this place should expect an earful from Ashara," Arthur informed Ned, chuckling at his own joke.
"Aye, I should expect so," Ned Stark said, smiling at the irony of such a statement in such a situation.
"If you get there, give my nephew my regards," Ser Arthur Dayne asked of Ned. Ned nodded, and with that, the clash began. Arthur pulled his blades away, both scraping against Ice, before stepping forward and swinging both down at Ned's head and chest, both being blocked by Ice as Ned stepped inward and kicked Arthur in the chest, sending him back a few steps, only for Arthur to lunge forward with a high jab with Dawn, and his other blade low. Eddard ducked under Dawn and placed his sword in the path of Arthur's non-Valyrian steel one, fearing an uppercut. When Stark looked back up, he was rocked by an armored headbutt to his unarmored head from the helm-protected Ser Arthur. As soon as he fell, hitting his ass, Ned rolled and spun to his left side, barely escaping a flying lunge from Dawn, and swinging Ice at the armpit of Arthur's right shoulder as he rose from the ground, aiming for the most well-known chink in a knight's armor. Arthur rolled his shoulder up just in time to miss losing his arm, but the ancient greatsword scraped him and annoyed him. He took his helm off and threw it to the ground before reintroducing his blades to Ice. The white knight and the Northern Lord danced back and forth for several minutes before Arthur saw an opening to take a chance. Dayne rained Dawn down at Stark's head, and as Stark's sword came up to block it, Arthur leaped into a swing from his other blade at Stark's knees. Stark was quick enough to move his right leg out of the way as he jumped back, but due to Arthur's leap into the strike and Ned's movement being one leg at a time, the blade bit into above Ned's left knee, not deep enough to maim forever, or to lose the leg, but enough that the strength left it and the young Stark lord fell to his knees. Arthur let go of the sword and put all of his strength into bringing Dawn down in a downward backhand motion from it's position above his left shoulder, where it had gone after it had glanced off of Ice. Instead of dying as Ned had expected, a blur of hair and leathers sped between the two of them, gripping Dayne's arm and spinning Arthur around as it did so. Grasping the opportunity, Ned sliced at the back of Arthur's knees, another chink in the armor, and brought the great Sword of the Morning crashing down to his knees. Ned rose onto his right leg, putting all of his weight on it as he put the tip of his blade, pointing downward, at a point below where the neck and back of Ser Arthur as the Dayne knight bowed his head and Howland Reed let go of his arm.
"Remember, Lord Stark. My sword, and my regards," the knight spoke from the spot on his knees where he would die.
Ned put all of his weight into shoving Ice, the ancestral Valyrian steel greatsword of the Starks, the lords and former kings of the North, deep down through the knight's body, piercing all of his organs on the way down. So passed Ser Arthur Dayne, one of the Seven of the Kingsguard, the Sword of the Morning, and one of the greatest knight's to have ever lived.
-Linebreak-
In the lord's, or rather, lady's, room of the great castle Starfall in Dorne, the Lady Ashara Dayne lay in her bed, being attended to by several handmaidens and a maester as she gave birth to her first and only child. She pushed and pushed, and screamed and screamed, until eventually the maester announced to her that he could see the head. She fought harder than she ever had in her life at that moment, for her baby's sake, as well as her own. Soon, she felt something leave her, and she tired and relaxed.
"My lady, it is a beautiful, and healthy baby boy," the maester informed Ashara as he cut the umbilical chord and handed the bay to a handmaiden to be cleaned and dried. After that was done, the handmaiden wrapped the baby in a blanket and handed the bundle to it's mother. Lady Ashara held him firmly, yet so gently, and wanted to cry in that moment as her free hand fingered his black tuft of hair.
"My little boy, my little Star, my little Wolf," and the baby's eyes opened, so round and gray, so intricately detailed. Stark eyes, staring at their mother.