Chapter 4: Winter Roses

After spending a day mounted, riding circles and aiming his lance at a dented shield propped up for training, Jon took his and Barristan's horses back to the stables. When he rushed back to Barristan he found the old knight walking with princess Myrcella on her way to the garden. He noticed her slight pout disappeared when she spotted him, flashing him a quick smile before lowering her eyes as Jon fell into place behind her, beside Barristan.

"Thank you, Ser Jon," she said when he dug out a place for a new plant she'd been gifted.

"I'm no Ser yet, princess," he said with a smile.

"And yet it's you who offers to save his princess from being dirtied," she said with a playful glare toward Barristan.

The old knight chuckled. "Leave kneeling in dirt and rocks to the young. My knees only have so many years left to them."

"It's a beautiful flower," he said looking to the pale white petals.

"It's a Moonbloom from Oldtown," she said placing it into the earth. "It was an early nameday gift from Uncle Tyrion."

"Your nameday?" Jon asked with a glance to Barristan, who wore a slight frown.

"Mmhmm," she nodded, looking up to Jon. "It's in almost a month, but he wasn't sure he'll be here then so brought it now."

Jon nodded, letting her return to replanting the flower.

The weeks leading up to Joffrey's nameday it was all anyone heard about as entertainers were brought from every kingdom and across the sea, yet Jon hadn't heard anything about Myrcella's nameday. Thinking back, he hadn't heard anything of Tommen's either, and he'd been in King's Landing almost a year. Jon suddenly found himself feeling bad for the princess, more so than he did in those little moments where he pitied her having to deal with Joffrey. He could understand his nameday being ignored, he was a bastard, but she was a beautiful princess. She deserved the attention more than her pompous prick brother.

It wouldn't be much, but Jon decided then that once he was through for the day he would go back to his room and write a letter to Robb asking him to send a Winter Rose from Winterfell's glass garden. He could say he wanted a reminder of the North, saying he feels like he's missing home was better than risking Robb teasing him, thinking him fool enough to dream of charming the princess. Robb would ask if he thought himself Theon pining for Sansa, but he simply felt bad for a girl who seemed abandoned by her family even on the day she should be celebrated.

In his chambers Jon gathered the bundle of letters he had from the Starks, held in a box he hid away in his room. Months ago when he first placed the box he noticed slight shifts in it's position whenever he went to read his letters so took to burning any that he wanted to keep private, so there were less than there could be. He felt a paranoid fool, but he knew that in a place like King's Landing someone would surely find some interest even in the details of Arya's prolonged and failed war of silence against Sansa.

They couldn't exactly send a potted Winter Rose by raven, but Robb wrote that he found a merchant to carry it with him to King's Landing on a boat from White Harbor.

Arya wrote the most, though Robb was a close second, each demanding all he could tell of his training. He could have sent them each scrolls of parchment detailing every move in every match and they would still want more. Jon felt a hint of pride in the jealousy he noted in their letters. For once he had something Robb wanted.

Jon had been surprised Sansa wrote at all. While not as much as the others, her desire for information on King's Landing drove her quill. Jon made sure not to spare any detail, telling her of the beauty of Blackwater Bay, of the abundance of people and hints of foreign cultures he noticed in Flea Bottom, of the constant stench through half the city, of how Joffrey looked down on people, of how he once saw the crown prince chase stray cats, stepping on their tails and laughing as they cried in pain. He might have wrung the prince's neck if not for Barristan stopping him, frowning and reminding Jon it wasn't their place to correct the prince. He felt bad for how heartbroken she seemed, but he thought it better than feeding her lies of gallant knights. The only ones close to that he'd seen were Barristan and Loras, Jaime also had his moments, but even the other kingsguard were nothing like the stories they'd heard.

Bran wrote occasionally, sometimes in Arya's handwriting and with little notes from her added on to his when she checked them over for him. Jon told him of how hard being a squire was, but said he was glad he was chosen to squire to Ser Barristan as he is a true knight, one of the best in Westeros. Part of Jon hoped Bran might take his place as Ser Barristan's squire, but if not he hoped that when the time came he could ask Loras if he himself wasn't knighted.

The only other one he received letters from was Eddard, which others noted was more than he ever actually wrote to the king, but even that was less than any of his siblings. Jon found himself looking forward to his letters less than the others as they were often just checking up on him with brief assurances that Winterfell was fine. It made Jon question how close he actually was with his father, how much he truly knew of the man. At times Jon felt like he knew more about King Robert than he did the man who raised him. At least he knew who likely father Robert's bastards.

Robb sent another letter telling Jon the merchant had made it to White Harbor and would arrive on a boat called the Crimson Crow. The problem was he never said when it would arrive, only that the merchants name was Jorgan.

With no way of knowing how soon they would arrive, and princess Myrcella's nameday nearing, Jon took to traveling to the River Gate every day and checking which ships had arrived. He did it enough that it was only after three days that a gold cloak grabbed his shoulder.

"What are you doing here boy?" The man asked, his black breastplate ornamented with four golden disks telling Jon he was the gate's captain. His gaze narrowed slightly as he looked on Jon's face. "You're Barristan's boy, aren't you?"

"His squire," Jon corrected as the guard released him.

The man laughed. "Ah, that's right. Lord Snow." Jon sighed at the name that others had taken to calling him. He was positive one of the kingsguard had been the first to use it, but couldn't remember. "What is it has you coming here every day?"

"My family sent me a gift," Jon explained, "but they only told me the man carrying it would arrive on a ship called the Crimson Crow. They never said when, only the man's name."

The guard sighed. "Fine. Tell me his name and when he comes I'll send an urchin to fetch you."

"Truly?"

"His name," the goldcloak said with a nod.

"Jorgan," said Jon. "And yours?"

"Tobas Maller," the captain said with a nod.

"Thank you," Jon gave the man a quick nod before turning and hurrying back to the Red Keep.

Weeks passed as Jon fell back into his routine, pushing himself as hard as he could yet fighting off the urge to go check on the docks. Part of him worried it had already arrived and Tobas, upon finding it was a flower and not something he could pawn, tossed it into the river.

Instead he was training with Barristan one morning when one of the Red Keep's guard approached. "Lord Snow," the man called out with a smirk, "some urchin says your ship has come."

The slight glare Barristan shot the man eased when he looked to Jon with a smile, seeing the boy perk up. He looked ready to run off, but stopped himself. Before he could tell the guard to send the urchin away with a message, Barristan waved a hand. "Go get your gift," the man said with a laugh.

"Thank you, Ser," Jon said, giving the man a quick bow before tossing the blunted sword in the barrel and rushing to leave.

Barristan watched the boy depart with a somber smile. Jon had told him of his plan, and though he feared the boy may risk becoming too attached to the princess, he knew Jon would never do anything improper. He also knew the girl would appreciate the gift. She wasn't ignored by any means, but she and Tommen never got as many gifts as Joffrey, and those they did were clearly meant more as signs of the giver's wealth or an attempt to gain the royal family's favor. There was no consideration for the princess in her gifts, no thought of what she would like apart from uncles and some of the guards who got her little flowers, gardening supplies and the like to help grow her solace within the keep.

Jon rushed through the River Gate connecting the Fishmonger's Square and wharfs of the Blackwater Rush. After a moment he found the gate captain stood with a man leading a cart loaded with goods.

"Lord Snow," Tobas called out. "Your name's Jorgan?" He asked as Jon came to stand with them.

"That is is," the older man nodded. "You're Jon Snow? Son of Eddard Stark?"

"I am," Jon nodded. "Brother to Robb."

"His son gave me this for you," Jorgan said turning around and digging into his cart before removing a pot holding a small bush with five pale blue winter roses.

Jon took the pot and handed the man a silver piece. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Lord Snow," the man said innocently using the name Tobas had earlier before taking his cart away.

Jon sighed as Tobas chuckled. "You came here every day for flowers?"

"They're not for me," Jon assured.

"A girl then," Tobas said with a nod. "Well, good luck, friend."

Jon gave him a nod and turned to leave, but as he did saw a man rush toward Tobas and thrust a dagger into the goldcloak's neck. The captain choked on the blade as it was ripped out and thrust at him again, but stopped inches from his face. Tobas stumbled back as the attacker turned and found Jon holding his wrist in his right hand and his potted flowers in his left arm. While Tobas fell to the ground clutching his leaking neck, Jon thrust his boot down on the attacker's leg, forcing him to take a knee.

It was then the raggedy man tried to hit Jon between the legs, yanking his right hand free from Jon's grip. In that moment the man swung the dagger down, slashing across Jon's left thigh as he thrust his right boot into the man's jaw.

While Jon yelled and stumbled back, turning to press his right hand over the wound on his leg, the raggedy attacker turned and started to scurry away. It was only a moment later three gold cloaks arrived and thrust two swords through the man's back while another checked on Tobas, who had bled out.

"Shit," Jon said when he tried to walk but winced in pain the moment he put weight on his left leg.

The guards kept him for a moment, but thankfully others rushed in to say he'd tried to help. However once they realized who he was, the guards sent a man to get Barristan to retrieve him.

Jon wore a frown as he watched Barristan come through the River Gate and lowered his gaze. He couldn't stand to look at the Lord Commander and see the man's disappointment when he saw Jon sat on the ground meters from a pair of corpses with blood dripping through the fingers clutched around the slash in his thigh while holding the potted flowers in his right arm.

Hearing the clink of armor as the man took a knee, Jon glanced up to find Barristan in front of him. "Are you okay, Jon?"

Jon nodded. "I'm sorry, Ser Barristan."

"Sorry?" Barristan asked with a laugh. "For what? Being slashed? Trying to stop a murderer?"

"I almost let him get away," Jon said shaking his head. "If I'd been paying more attention I might have stopped him from killing Tobas."

Barristan's brow furrowed as he shook his head. "This isn't your fault. You couldn't know some madman would slay the captain. He was probably some fool who felt wronged. You couldn't have known."

"You would have," Jon said looking to the old knight. "You would have seen him coming, but I was so…" He sighed, looking at the winter roses. "I tried to stop him but I kept holding these. As if they matter. As if sh-" He stopped himself, shaking his head, glancing at the wound on his thigh, taking a shaky breath. "What if it's too deep?"

A solemn smile took Barristan's lips, his sapphire eyes taking in the boy before brushing away his left hand. "Let me see." Once he moved the handkerchief tied over the wound and could look at the cut he saw it surely must have hurt and would require some stitches, but didn't look too bad. "Have you tried walking on it?"

"It hurts."

"I'd imagine." Barristan sighed, sliding his arm under Jon's to help the boy stand. "We'll wash it and stitch it once we're back at the keep. You'll be hobbled for a fortnight I'd guess."

"What?" Jon asked as Barristan helped him start toward the gate.

"Be thankful for that," Barristan said with a smile. "It could have hit the wrong spot and drained you as fast as the captain or left you without the leg."

Jon didn't mind the sting as Barristan washed and closed the wound as much as the idea of being unable to move properly for two weeks. Thankfully he wasn't bedridden, just unable to take to the yard as he had before. That didn't excuse him from his training though. Instead, Jon found himself focusing more on riding and wielding a lance. Though he didn't need to, Loras offered to join Jon since they couldn't spar as they did most days.

His friendship with Loras had been the oddest thing Jon found in King's Landing. The Tyrell was the opposite of Jon in many ways, though the largest was what Jon suspected but would never reveal. He'd noticed little things about the squire, how he feigned interest in the women who adored him yet would flash certain smiles toward Lord Renly.

Jon had been shocked to find the man was even his opposite in whom he wished to bed, but he'd fought him for months and spoken to him enough to know he was a decent man. He doubted he was the only one to suspect as much, but no one said anything, and Jon knew if they had he would deny it and spare the men any shame that might be cast upon them. Who he bedded didn't matter half as much as who he was, and Jon found though arrogant, hot blooded and glory hungry at times, Loras was better than most in King's Landing.

The first night after he returned from the River Gate Jon was sought out by Jon Arryn and King Robert, who brought Pycelle to check his wound.

"It's nothing, your grace," Jon assured.

"I've seen many a man die from nothing, Snow," Robert said with a firm nod.

Pycelle had him pull down his breeches and adjust his small clothes to reveal the cut across his thigh. "Stitched well enough. Was it cleaned?"

"Ser Barristan washed it once we got back from the Mud Gate," Jon nodded.

"Hm," the old maester nodded. "It should be enough to stand on in a fortnight, maybe less if you heal well. There might be pain for a sennight or so after, but it will fade."

"Will it scar?" asked Jon Arryn.

"Not if it's properly cared for," Pycelle said looking to Jon. "I'll bring some ointment to coat it in when you wake and before you sleep. If it does scar it will be light enough no one would notice." He gave the boy a pat on his knee as he stood and turned to leave, stepping past the King and his Hand.

"What were you doing at the Mud Gate, Jon?" asked Jon Arryn.

Jon glanced at the king, worrying he might take the truth the wrong way, but deciding it was better than risking them already knowing or finding out after. He could tell them a version of the truth at least. "I heard princess Myrcella's nameday was coming up and felt bad that I couldn't afford a proper gift, so asked Robb to send me winter roses from Winterfell's glass garden. He sent them with a merchant, so I went to meet him when some man in rags attacked the gate captain. Stabbed him in the throat and when I tried to stop him I still had the pot in my arm so couldn't fight properly and he cut me."

"A gift for Myrcella?" Robert said arching his brow.

Jon felt a hint of heat in his neck. "I know it's late but I only found out a moon before. Ser Barristan said the guards get her gifts so I thought it expected of me."

Jon Arryn's eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curving into a knowing smile while Robert laughed. "A true knight in the making," the king said with a fond smile. "I'll gather a reward for you."

"But I failed to stop him, your grace. It was the gold cloaks who caught him."

"Aye, but they didn't get cut doing so," Robert said with a grin. "And maybe you can use the reward to buy your next gift instead of risking another scar."

While Robert departed to go gather a purse for him, Jon Arryn excused himself from the king and stepped into Jon's room, closing the door behind him and pulling over the chair from the small desk against the wall opposite his bed.

"You know it can never be," Lord Arryn said with a frown.

Jon sighed and shook his head. "It's not like that, my lord. I-" He glanced at the closed door, leaning forward slightly and frowning. "I felt bad. They seem to ignore her nameday yet Joffrey's was a court affair."

Lord Arryn was shocked that he could be wrong, sitting back with an understanding, somber nod. "I know. I fear the queen dotes on the crown prince too much at times, leaving the others to themselves. Though… I'm not certain that's such a tragedy."

Jon chuckled at the man's conspiratorial tone. "I wouldn't know much, my lord. Her grace feels my presence beneath her so requests other kingsguards or has Ser Barristan send me away when he is assigned to her." The old man smirked at him and Jon sat back, fixing his breeches. "The princess seemed so happy with the flower Lord Tyrion got her, I thought she'd like one of the North as well."

Eyeing the boy, Jon Arryn wondered if maybe he hadn't been wrong after all, just had noticed something even the boy hadn't. Then again maybe it was his age driving him to see things that weren't there, like the golden children born to the ebony king.

"When will you gift it to her?" Lord Arryn asked.

"I'm already late for her nameday," Jon frowned. "I can't decide if I should just give it to her on the morrow or wait until I can stand on my own."

Lord Arryn glanced to the potted rose bush sat beside Jon's bed and smiled. "Perhaps it would be best to do so quickly, or else you may have been injured for dead flowers."

Days later Myrcella had excused her handmaiden before returning to her mirror to adjust her hair and pat her lips to look as full as possible. With a final check she took a breath and left to find Ser Barristan stood outside her door alone. She blinked in surprise, glancing along the corridor for Jon. Many had taken to calling him Selmy's Shadow for his dark hair and clothes as much as his ever following the guard, yet he was nowhere to be found.

"Ser Barristan," she asked the older knight as she walked toward her garden. "Where is your squire?"

"He was injured, your grace."

Myrcella gasped and stopped to turn on Barristan. "What? When?"

"Four days ago, at the River Gate," he explained. "He tried to stop a murderer and was cut across the leg." Seeing her eyes widen in concern, Barristan smiled. "He's fine, your grace. He just won't be as quick as he normally is for a few days."

Myrcella frowned, but nodded and turned to continue along her path. Part of her wanted to ask where Jon was and go check on him herself, but she knew she shouldn't. And yet she could only smile when they came to her garden and she found Jon stood there, leaning slightly to the right to keep weight off his left leg.

"Jon," she called out, picking up her pace to reach him. "You had me worried."

"I'm sorry, princess," he said with a laugh, "but even if it's late for your nameday hopefully this will make up for it."

She watched him turn and lift a pot housing a bush of roses the color of frost, looking as though they might freeze her fingers when she carefully brushed them against the petals.

"They're winter roses," Jon said with a smile. "Straight from Winterfell's glass garden. Well, from there to White Harbor and then a boat here."

Myrcella chuckled along with him as he spoke, but then she pieced together what he said. "Wait, was this why you were on at the River Gate?"

Jon's brow furrowed, glancing to Barristan, who's brow rose in surprise at her deduction. "No," Jon said shaking his head, "I had these before that, but I got along with the captain and…" Jon saw her pout as he lied and sighed. "It was my fault. Please, don't blame yourself princess."

Myrcella saw he already blamed himself, and decided she wouldn't do the same. Instead she took the potted bush and sniffed a rose, smiling as she looked to Jon. "Can you still help me, or should we make Ser Barristan put his old knees to the test?"

Relieved, Jon nodded. "I'll help."

"Perhaps they should call you the flower knight," Myrcella teased as she walked past Jon, who chuckled and shook his head.

"I fear Loras' wrath if I take his epithet."

"At least wait until you can stand properly to tell him you've claimed his title," Myrcella said with a laugh as she sank to her knees and watched Jon kneel beside her and start digging where she pointed.

Barristan watched the princess as she looked upon Jon, her eyes holding tenderness he doubted existed within her mother. Once again Barristan found himself feeling sorry a man who put his life on the line giving winter roses to the girl he adored.


AN:

This is around the start of 296 in my mind, and Tobas' murder is what lets Jacelyn Bywater become the Mud Gate's captain. In my mind it's even set up by him, or someone who wants him there at least, which is why guards just flat out killed the attacker instead of trying to grab and question him. Jon just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I considered having Jon be stabbed in the leg to get a scar kind of like when Ygritte shot him, but decided a slash was just simpler and still left him hobbled enough to do what I needed.

Winter roses don't really work for the color themeing I have in mind for the characters, but they're too important overall to ignore.

Next Chapter: Ned sends a northern comrade to Jon as he grows his friendship with Loras Tyrell.