Jon was frustrated, they had gotten as far as Lorath, then the trader that had hired them had decided that he no longer had use for them, the trader had also decided that he would not pay them. Although Barristan had managed to persuade him otherwise.
Things had seemed to be going so well to start with, they had gotten from Moat Cailin to White Habor with relative speed, and had reached Braavos in good time. All but Zhowi had changed their names to protect themselves, Ser Barristan had started going by the name of 'Arstan Whitebeard' and Howland was calling himself 'Roland Greywater'. They had originally put Barristan as the face of the group, negotiating contracts. The grizzled old knigh was quite skilled at Valyrian, likely from years of serving under King Aerys, and so understood the bastardised Valyrian that the merchants used. Jory also knew some of the language from his time in Essos, and so did Zhowi. Jon and Howland could do little more than listen and try to learn.
What Jon had learnt very quickly was that Ghost brought attention, the group had decided to change their tactics, setting Jon as the leader and Zhowi as his translator. Barristan became the negotiator, but Jon got the final word. That had gotten them to Lorassyon, now they needed to get to Ib, or find a trader going all the way to the Cradle of the World.
This was the third merchant that they had spoken to, and as far as Jon could see it was going the same way as all of the other conversations. The Merchants always started by putting on a big show of power and wealth, usually including a large table of food. The Merchant would usually sit and eat in front of them, while they stood, depending on the Merchant they might offer some item of food, but it was never something that they themselves were eating and it was wise not to accept it if you didn't like poison. This Merchant was more arrogant than the last two, and arrogant in such a way that he wanted them all to hear how much better than them he was. At least that meant he had switched to speaking in the common tongue for Howland and Jon's sake.
The Merchant pulled a piece of meat off of a large roast and slipped it into his mouth, licking his fingers. Jon hoped his stomach wouldn't rumble, he hadn't eaten in two days, and they had just spent the last of their coin on meat for Ghost.
"You know, I like you." The Merchant said. "Why don't you stick around, maybe I might find some work for you." He smiled. "As a token of good faith, here." He pushed a plate of pastries towards them.
Ser Barristan went to reply, but Jon raised his hand to silence the older man and took a step forwards. Something had to change, it was time to take a risk.
"Anha dothrak adakhatoon." He replied in perfect Dothraki. I ride from eating. "Ghost, however, could eat." He pulled his whip, cracking it in the same action, and pulled the roast from under the Merchant's nose, sending it flying to the ground. Ghost claimed it quickly and started eating.
"How dare you!" the Merchant roared, and a number of his guards stepped forward.
"Would you rather negotiate with a full stomach and a hungry direwolf?" Jon asked as he moved closer to the table. "You don't want to hire us, you simply want to ensure that your competitors don't hire us. I know we may have some language barriers, but I believe we can communicate clearly. So let's cut the fredrik, I'll go first, I'm going to give you a gift."
"Oh, and what gift is that?!" The Merchant snapped.
Jon took a step back from the table and smiled. "I'm going to Vaes Dothrak, for reasons that don't concern you. I'm taking with me three men, a woman, and a direwolf. I know the laws of Vaes Dothrak, no man or woman may shed blood within the shadow of Mother Mountain. That law may not be broken, but it can be bent. Ghost is not a man or a woman, so, should any non-Dothraki need their blood spilt he can oblige. I will allow him to oblige for you for so long as we keep company with your traders."
The Merchant laughed. "You are young, I have seen men like you before, proud men, bold men. I have seen men with, tigers, men with lions, men with all manner of beasts, they all fail. Why should you be any different?"
"Ghost is not a pet, or a trained animal, he is not a slave." Jon said calmly. "He has never been on a chain or a leash, he has never had a collar, he is my companion." He felt a smirk pulling at the side of his mouth. "Mayhap I am not truly a man either, sometimes I am him."
"Skin changer." The Merchant scoffed. "I've heard that claim before. You're bold though, I'll give you that, and you show understanding of Dothraki custom, that's good for business. You know what? I'm going to give you a gift, two actually. Firstly, I'm not going to have you all killed. Secondly, I'm not going to charge you for traveling on my boat, you leave tomorrow."
"We leave today." Jon replied.
"Oh, dear boy, it will take longer than that to load the ship."
"Then tell your men to work harder." Jon replied. "I'll give you another gift, we'll help load the ship, you can give Arstan the details." He looked at the spread of the table, there was another large roast, oxen from the look of it, on an ornate silver tray. "Hmm, Anha dothrak adakhataan." He muttered and reached over the table, taking the roast, plate and all. He turned and started to leave.
Three of the guards moved forward, but the Merchant raised a hand to stop them. "I like you, what was your name again?" The Merchant called after him.
"Aegon." Jon replied and left the room, Ghost followed, clutching the rest of his food in his jaws. Surprisingly they got all of the way out of the Manse without losing their food. The rest of the group soon followed, Zhowi had a silver flagon of freshly squeezed fruit juice in her hand, they found a public space to sit and eat.
"I can't believe that worked." Barristan exclaimed, after a few mouthfuls of food.
Jon shrugged. "We needed to prove we were a good investment, I paid attention to the last two negotiations and tried to work out where we went wrong." He replied.
"Yes, well, you did that." Howland Reed replied, he gave Jon a strange look. "What you said about Ghost, how true is it?"
Jon shrugged. "I…" He frowned. "I'm not sure why I even said it. But Ghost and I do have a bond, sometimes it feels like he knows what I'm thinking."
By the end of the day the ship was loaded. Jon and company had quietly left the silver tray and flagon beside the items they were loading, and the merchant prince's men had just as quietly taken them away. Jon hoped that the silverware's return showed some measure of good will. The merchant was they to see them off, and by all account seemed to hold no malice towards them. (Although he made it quite clear that he did not expect them to be part of the return voyage.)
~~/~~
Jon stood on the rail of the boat with his hand resting lightly on Ghost and looked out over the Shivering Sea, he prayed to the old gods that they would have safe passage. There were no trees in the middle of the ocean, could his gods hear him? He did not know. There had been no trees in Braavos either, he hadn't like that. "Aegon." He muttered to himself. "My name is Aegon."
He remembered the day that they had talked about what names to use, remembered Ser Barristan advising him that he needed a name that no Stark would be expected to choose, it had felt like a test. Jon was beginning to suspect that Ser Barristan and Ser Jonothor had pieced together the truth of his parentage. Well, if Barristan wanted to test him he would test Barristan right back. He took his time, waited until everybody else had chosen their names. Arstan for Barristan, that made sense, and he did have a whitebeard. Roland was close enough to Howland, the Lord of Greywater Watch's choice made sense as well. Jory's choice had seemed more strange to Jon, he'd chosen the name "Gilbert" and given no reasoning for it. Zhowi had no need to change her name, most saw her as a slave.
Jon had paused a little longer, looking out over one of Braavos's dirty bridges at one of its dirty waterways and wondering how a place surrounded by water could be so unclean? He had let the silence stretch out until it was uncomfortable, until Barristan prompted him again to choose a name, then he had turned and looked Barristan in the eye and uttered the name his mother had given him. His real name, the name that Ned Stark had only recently decided to advise him of. "Aegon." He had said, and waited for Barristan to reply.
Jory replied first, he laughed. "Aegon is as common here as Jon is in Westeros, you'll meet fifty of them before we get out of the city." Jory had informed him, and given him a sturdy slap on the shoulder. "Come on, Aegon, let's go find some traders to work for."
Jory's humour was infectious as always, Jon had nodded and smiled. "What ever you say, Gilbert."
Jory had been right of course, there were nine Aegon's on this boat alone. Jon sighed and continued to watch the waves, eventually he felt eyes on him, he turned and saw Ser Barristan watching him. "Why do you do that?" He asked.
Barristan averted his gaze but came to join Jon by the rail, taking his left as Ghost was on his right. "Forgive me, you brood as well as Prince Rhaegar did." He muttered.
"Do I now?" Jon replied, raising his eyebrows.
Barristan gave him a sad smile. "That look belongs to Ned Stark, but your curls aren't Stark, your chin isn't Stark, your cheekbones aren't Stark."
"Takes two people to make a child." Jon replied carefully.
"Yes, yes it does." Barristan agreed. "But which two people, that's the question."
Jon kept his eyes on the waves. "You are a Knight of the King's Guard, Ser Barristan, speaking in riddles does not become you. If you have an accusation to make, make it."
"No accusation, just a confession." Barristan answered slowly. "I'm serving the wrong king, Robert Baratheon has no right to sit on the Iron Throne."
So that was what Barristan wanted? Another war? A second chance to redeem his pride? And at the cost of how many lives?! Well Jon wasn't playing, he may not be a Stark, but Stark blood ran through his veins. Jon needed to kill any thought that he had interest in the Iron Throne, and kill it quickly. He turned to face Barristan, looking him in the eye.
"He has every right." Jon replied angrily. "He won that throne by right of conquest, just like Aegon the Conquer did. Do you think King Torrhen Stark wanted to kneel?! No, but he did, to protect his people, to protect the North. Winter is coming, the North has no interest in Southron Ambitions. My loyalty is to House Stark, and to the people of the North." " He let Northern pride swell in his chest, let the memories of a thousand lessons, and a thousand more debates fill his mind. Torrhen, Alaric, Cregan… each and every one of those proud knees had bent to serve and protect the North. "My grandfather's mistakes will not be repeated." He whispered.
Barristan gave a bitter laugh. "And which grandfather is that?" The old knight challenged.
Jon sighed and returned his gaze to the ocean. Which grandfather? The Mad King, or the over ambitious Lord Paramount whom did not care that his children wished to marry other people? "Both of them." He muttered darkly.
Barristan scoffed. "And if Sansa is pregnant with a Targaryen child in her womb, what will you do then?"
"Whatever the Stark of Winterfell commands." Jon growled with a steel in his voice that said the conversation was over.
"You are like your father." Barristan muttered in frustration.
"Lord Stark is an honourable man." Jon replied.
Barristan shook his head. "No, Aegon, you are like your father. Please don't die like him."
Jon turned to face Barristan again, he held Barristan's gaze for a long moment then shook his head. "I may not be a Stark, but there is Stark blood in my veins, I will not act against the pack, and you will not act against your king. This conversation is over, and we will never have one like it again. Do you understand?"
Barristan nodded. "Yes, I will leave you in peace… your grace." Barristan turned and walked away.
Jon closed his eyes and lowered his head. 'Your grace' he didn't want that, had never wanted that, he was to be the Lord of Moat Cailin, to help Robb protect the North. Even when he had been told the truth of his parentage he had still seen himself as the future Lord of Moat Cailin. He was Jon of Winterfell, to one day be Jon of Moat Cailin, Jon Cailin… yet the more he used the name Aegon, the more he found it fitted. Aegon Targaryen, seventh of his name… Fuck! Could he be Aegon Targaryen of Moat Cailin? Would the Northern Lords allow that? Would the King allow that? Ghost brushed against his leg, reminding him that he was not alone. "I will do what the Stark of Winterfell commands." He muttered. "I will swear my oaths to Robb, I will do what I must to protect my family." He whispered. But Viserys and Daenerys were his family too…
~~/~~