A/N: So, to make up for the huge ass gap between updating, I've decided to rewrite the chapters. I realized with Jon here, not much has changed from the original story. Things will hopefully be better. Also, huge thank you to everyone reading. I didn't expect this little fic to get so much love.
Inspired by Far away by liesmyth.
Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF
1.
The soft rocking of the ship should have lulled Jon Snow to sleep, but he could only lay awake in anticipation.
They would reach Pentos in a day or two if the waters were good. Jon couldn't help but grin. Months had passed since they sailed to the Free Cities from White Harbor, but his adventure would begin as soon as he set foot ashore the port city of Pentos.
He shocked his family with his decision to explore the Free Cities. He was getting older and felt he was overstaying his welcome in Winterfell. Lady Stark looked relieved that he was leaving, while Theon commented that Jon was probably searching for his mother in Lys. Jon gave him a black eye for that.
Leaving was harder done than said.
Robb made him promise to return with many stories to share, even when his smile was forced. Bran was the same. Rickon cried and begged him not to go, but with a promise of gifts and returning for his nameday, he settled down and continued playing with Shaggydog. Arya wanted to join him and tried not to cry when Jon told her she couldn't. To make up for hurting her, he asked Mikken to craft a small, slender sword for her. Sansa told him she would miss him terribly. Jon wondered if she truly meant that as they were never close, but liked to think she did.
Before he left, his lord father had finally told him about his mother.
"Your mother wanted me to give you something when you were of age. I'm not sure if you are even ready now but... you are leaving and becoming a man so I suppose it is."
On the table between them, his father laid a large sword in a black metal scabbard banded with silver. When Jon realized that was his gift, he looked up at his father in shock. His father smiled and motioned for him to touch it. Unsheathing it proved difficult as it was a two-handed sword, but he managed it. Once unsheathed, Jon could only stare at it in awe. The blade was as pale as milkglass and just as sharp as Valyrian steel.
"The blade is named Dawn, forged from the heart of a fallen star," his father told him. "Your uncle was the sword's last bearer."
"My uncle?" Jon repeated, confused. Realization hit him harder than the blow Robb gave him. "Ser Arthur Dayne is my uncle?"
Ser Arthur Dayne was his uncle, so that meant his sister Ashara was his mother. His mother often jested with Ser Arthur that Dawn would be gifted to her first son. The jest became a somber promise after Ser Arthur was defeated by his father and Howland Reed. This, along with learning that she was dead, was what made Jon cry.
"What happened to her?" he asked, wiping his tears angrily.
"She jumped from the top of one of the towers of Starfall, called the Palestone Sword, on the cliff atop the sea."
"Why?"
For a moment, Jon could see a pained expression on his father's face. It vanished just as quickly as it came, replaced with the impassive look his father usually had.
"Because she was filled with grief, Jon."
Sometimes at night, Jon would lay awake imagining her face and form. His father said she was a great beauty. Her eyes, his father said, were the most breathtaking things he had ever seen. Jon wished he could remember them. He would ponder how his life would have been if he lived in Starfall, his last name Sand instead of Snow.
Thinking about his mother and Winterfell only held him back. His adventures would never be satisfying if he kept thinking about his dead mother or Robb or Arya. He would see them again eventually, but for now, he needed to focus on his new life. I will not be Ned Stark's bastard anymore, thought Jon, I will make a new name for myself.
Perhaps the Sword of the Morning.