Hello, everyone! For those of you who follow me because of my Once Upon a Time fanfic, I just want you to know, I am NOT abadoning that story for this. Truth is, I've kinda burned myself out a little of that show and I need a break from writing and thinking about it; both of which I have been doing for three years now so you can't really blame me.
Anyway, this is an idea I've had for awhile, since I was VERY disappointed in the last season. So, this is my version and of how the show would have gone if Jon did not go to the Night's Watch. This chapter will act as sort of a prologue to the story. So, I hope you enjoy. Oh, and there will be more bold dialogue at the end.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Game of Thrones. All rights belong to HBO and George R.R. Martin.
Enjoy!
A cold summer, only in the Northern region of Westeros could such a thing exist. Since the First Men arrived in Westeros thousands of years ago, the North had been under the rule and protection of house Stark. Before Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon the conqueror, the noble house had ruled as the Kings in the North. Now, when the heir of house Stark would succeed his father, he would become the Lord Paramount and Warden of the North. The current Warden and head of house Stark was Eddard "Ned" Stark, second-born son to the previous Lord of Winterfell, Rickard Stark who died along with his first-born son Brandon at the hands of the Mad King, Areys II Targaryen. These deaths were part of the spark that started the war the world would come to know as Robert's Rebellion. Seven years had passed since the war ended. House Baratheon was now ruling as the royal family since House Targaryen was nearly wiped out. All that remained of the dragon's blood was the Mad King's second son, Viserys Targaryen the Beggar Prince, and Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen his sister.
But these were matters that did not concern the north, and Ned Stark made sure that his children would not have to worry about them until the right time. In all, the Lord of Winterfell had three legitimate children with another on the way, and one bastard son. His eldest was Robb Stark, a handsome young man who had both the looks of his father's family and his mother's. He had the face and attitude of a Stark, but the red hair of a Tully like his mother. At times, Ned could see the wolf's blood show itself in his son, much like his late, elder brother. Sansa Stark, Ned's first daughter, looked more Tully than Stark and was a true noble lady in the making. Even at a young age, the girl acted like her mother and dreamed of a handsome prince or lord one day coming to take her south to live a life of warmth, luxury and peace. Finally, Arya Stark was just a baby who was already showing more of a resemblance to her father than her mother. It was too early to tell, but Ned believed that his wife was pregnant with another son.
As for Ned's bastard, he was named Jon but given the name Snow, as all northern bastards are given. Even though Ned Stark loved all his children equally, including Jon, the young bastard never felt as though he belonged in Winterfell and often thought he brought shame to his father's honorable name. It also did not help that Catelyn Stark, formally Tully, constantly made Jon think this every time she would coldly glare at him for simply existing.
But, that was the furthest thing from Jon's mind one particular morning. Word had spread throughout the North of Balon of House Greyjoy declaring himself king of the Iron Islands. Even at a young age, Jon knew a declaration like that meant rebellion and war against the Iron Throne. It also meant the king would gather the armies and leaders of his allies to help him put an end to the threat; and that most certainly meant calling Ned Stark to leave Winterfell and join him. Those thoughts sent fear into little Jon's heart. Both for his father, and himself.
Lady Catelyn may not have ever laid a hand on the boy, but she let everyone, including Jon and her husband know how much she hated and distrusted him. A common excuse she made to convince Ned to send him away was that Jon would one-day rebel against Robb and steal Winterfell from him. Not that anyone believed that. Everyone in Winterfell knew how much Jon loved his brother and sisters and only ever wanted to make his father proud. Despite how their Warden's wife viewed bastards, especially Jon, most Northerners treated bastards as equally as any other common folk. But Southerners had their own faith and views on bastards, and Catelyn Tully now had the Stark name and the most respected man in the North as her husband. In other words, no one but her husband could tell her to piss off and treat the boy fairly; not that Ned would out of respect for his marriage. Because of her hatred, Jon was afraid Lady Catelyn would use Ned's absence as an opportunity to banish him from Winterfell, leaving him to die alone away from his pack. Ned suspected these fears and made sure to soothe his son that would never happen before he left to end the rebellion. But, Jon was still just a boy, and fear often filled children.
If it were not for Lady Stark's daily doses of disdain and glares, Jon would probably be as happy as his brother. He loved the heir to Winterfell dearly, but Jon was always jealous of him. Not jealous in the way Lady Stark always feared, but jealous to the point where it was rare for anyone in Winterfell to see the young bastard happy or smiling for long periods of time. Robb had two guaranteed things since he was born, and it was possible for Jon to earn only one of them: the respect of and love of the people of Winterfell, and a mother's love. These were what allowed Robb Stark to walk the grounds of his family's ancestral home with his head held high every day while Jon's was mostly low and looking at the ground in sadness.
However, Robb was not an arrogant boy who treated his half-brother as his mother and sister did. No, far from it. To Robb, it never made sense why his brother could not be treated the same as he was. Even though his mother was teaching him and his sister the ways of her southern faith, and how bastards were "supposed" to be viewed and treated, Robb loved his brother as much he loved him. They were raised together. They played together every day. They were always together when training with swords, or riding horses, or learning from Maester Lewin. In Robb's eyes, Jon Snow was as much a Stark of Winterfell as he was and deserved to be treated as such. So whenever his bastard brother was sad, or brooding, Robb would try his best to take Jon's mind off of whatever was making him depressed. But when he couldn't, Jon had his own ways.
For the most part, practicing with his sword was how Jon approached his negative feelings. Every time he was angry at someone for mocking him as a bastard, or when Lady Catelyn insulted him to his face, or even when seeing the hateful woman sitting up at the table of his ancestors with his father and siblings at dinner became too much to bear, Jon would grab a practice sword, go outside and hack away at a training dummy until he was too cold to stay out any longer. But, when he was sad, there was something else he would do.
Since Arya was born, Jon could often hear her mother singing to her whenever she woke up restless. It wasn't so much as Lady Catelyn's voice Jon enjoyed, but the concept of singing seemed to appeal to him. That, and on the rare occasions when music was played during special feasts, Jon enjoyed the instruments the minstrels played. One night in particular, a minstrel, who did not care that Jon was a bastard, gave him the harp they played after finishing their performance. It was the best gift the boy ever received and he cherished it greatly. So, whenever the Bastard of Winterfell felt sad, he would go into the Godswood at night, sit or stand by the Weir Tree, play his harp and sing. But at the present time, while Jon did feel sad, he could not go into the Godswood and play his music this night, for the events of this day prevented him from playing anytime soon.
The previous morning, while Jon was studying with Robb during one of Maester Luwin's lessons. Jon always enjoyed his lessons when it came to the history of the great battles of Westeros. They were what shaped and changed the country more so than any king or lord. Robb, on the other hand, was bored and much preferred spending his day riding horses or sparing with his brother.
"And so, without needing to use the might of their dragons, Aegon Targaryen, and his sister wives, conquered the Vale and claimed yet another kingdom in their conquest." Maester Lewin concluded to the brothers, "Now then-"
"What is the point in learning this?" Robb groaned in boredom, "Everyone knows what happened!"
"Yes, but do you know why it happened, little lord?" Luwin patiently asked having plenty of experience in dealing with the heir to Winterfell's behavior.
"Because the Targaryens had dragons, that's why." Robb flatly replied.
"Yes, and no." Luwin said causing the boy to look surprised while Jon raised his hand, "Yes, Jon?"
"It's because the Arryns were arrogant." Jon answered.
"Go on." Luwin urged.
"The Arryns thought they were untouchable because of the Vale's terrain and did not fortify their defenses. They did not take into consideration the dragons flying over it all and coming straight to The Eyrie. They just got lucky Visenya Targaryen didn't burn it all like Aegon did to Harrenhall."
"And what can we learn from the Arryns of old?" Luwin further pressed.
"Never underestimate your enemies." Jon answered without hesitation, "Nothing is absolute, especially a castle's defenses. All it takes is the right choice in actions and victory is won."
"Quite right." Luwin praised with a smile, "But there is one absolute truth in this world, dear boys. Death. All men and women born into this world die. One way or another."
As the Maester of Winterfell reminded the boys of this harsh truth, a knock on the door caught everyone's attention. After the Maester gave permission to enter, Ser Jory Cassel came in with a small raven scroll in his hands.
"Ah, Jory. What brings you here this fine, summer morning?"
"Begging your pardon, Maester." the captain of the guard politely said, "A raven just came from White Harbor."
"What's it say?" Robb immediately asked.
"Good news, my lord." Jory smiled at the boys, "Your father is coming home. He is bringing the king and all the men who fought against the Greyjoys for a great feast."
Hearing that their father was returning brought happy smiles to the boys' faces. All of Winterfell missed the honorable Warden of the North, but none more than his family; especially Jon. However, it was clear to the old Maester that Jory had more to discuss.
"Was there anything else the scroll said, Jory?" Luwin pressed.
"Aye, there was. And it's not something little boys need to hear." Jory said nodding to the heir and bastard of Winterfell.
"Aye. You heard him, lads. Off you go." Luwin said, shooing the boys out of their chairs. After leaving the room, Jon started to walk down the hall before noticing his brother was trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.
"Robb, what are you doing?" Jon whispered.
"I wanna hear what they're talking about, shush." Robb whispered back. Going against his better judgement, Jon relented and joined his brother in listening to the conversation. Inside the room, they could somewhat hear what Jory was telling Luwin.
"Are you certain that's what it said?" Luwin asked, slightly in disbelief.
"You sound surprised." Jory scoffed, "You remember how outraged Lord Stark was over the deaths of the Targaryen children. From what my uncle told me, Lord Stark would have killed King Robert and Tywin Lannister that day had it not been for his vassals restraining him. Quite frankly, had things turned out differently, he probably would have this time around."
"Well, yes, I suppose so." Luwin agreed, "But still, this is a surprise. And there are no others?"
"The only one left besides the boy is his elder sister." Jory replied, "Balon Greyjoy may not hold to the same beliefs as the rest of Westeros, but even he would never allow a girl to be his heir. He'd sooner have his half-mad younger brother succeed him, instead."
"Aye, he would." Luwin nodded, "Raising a Greyjoy to be like a Stark won't be an easy task, though, Jory. We'll all have our work cut out for us, not just Lord Stark."
"From what Lord Stark said, the boy is young enough to still be molded into a good man. He's about the same age as Jon and Robb. Having those two with him may just make things easier for us."
"Perhaps. But he'll still be seen as a Greyjoy and this rebellion will have left a sour taste in everyone's mouth about that family. Regardless of the fact Ned has taken him in as his ward." Luwin pointed out.
"His ward?" Jon muttered as his brother shushed him. Thanks to Maester Luwin's lessons, he knew exactly what a ward was and what that meant for Winterfell. Not wanting to get caught, and since there was nothing interesting left to hear, the boys quickly left the hall and went outside to discuss what they heard.
"Why would Father bring back a ward?" Robb asked his brother.
"I don't know." Jon shrugged, "Jory said something about the Targaryen children. Maybe Father's bringing this Greyjoy boy back to keep him from being killed like they were."
"Aye, that sounds like Father." Robb nodded, "They'll be here in a matter of days. Guess we'll be getting another sparring partner sooner than we thought."
"Aye." Jon said with a small smile.
For the next few days, the boys and their sister eagerly awaited the return of their father. Unfortunately for them, they had to listen to the annoying, dreamy voice of Sansa as she wondered what the new ward of Winterfell would be like. Despite both boys, and her mother, nearly constantly reminding her how the Greyjoys and Ironborn were kraken-worshiping pirates masquerading as a noble house, she still fantasied him being a gallant seafarer who might one day sail the world and bring her treasures and fine clothes simply to please her. And when she was not gushing about that ridiculous fantasy, she would gush about all the knights the king would bring doing the same thing. It got so annoying one day that Jon decided to go outside for at least one, peaceful moment. Of course, it did not last long courtesy of Lady Stark.
After leaving his half-siblings, Jon rested his head on his arms as he leaned on the wooden rails overseeing his home. But, as he did, he could hear the all too familiar sound of his father's wife's footsteps come towards him.
"Snow," she curtly snapped with her look of disdain, "Come here."
"Yes, Lady Stark?" he meekly asked under her glare.
"Today is when Lord Stark and the king shall arrive. As you know, it is customary for the family of the lord's hold to greet and welcome the returning king, lords and knights." Catelyn reminded.
"Yes, my lady." Jon nodded, remembering what Maester Luwin taught him.
"Good. Which is why you shall not be present when Lord Stark and His Grace arrive." she said coldly.
Hearing these words caused Jon to look up at the Lady of Winterfell in shock. Simply because he was a bastard, she was denying him to see his beloved father, who he hadn't seen since shortly after his youngest sister was born. For eight months he hadn't seen his father, and now this hateful, jealous woman told him he would have to wait until his father sought him out, whenever that would be.
"But, my lady-"
"I will not have you humiliate this family any further than you already have, bastard." Catelyn cut off, "You will remain out of the king's sight until he, and all the other lords have left Winterfell. Understand?"
"…I understand, Lady Stark." Jon sadly nodded before Catelyn stomped off, wanting to get as far away from the boy as possible, "My lady?"
"What, Snow?" Catelyn barked as she turned to see the sad boy.
"If I am not allowed to see Father when he comes home, may I be in the Godswood at the time?" he asked.
"As long as you are not there." Catelyn replied, "And do not call him your father in the presence of others. You are a bastard. A stain on his honor and the honor of House Stark. You are to address him as Lord Stark, nothing more."
It was moments like this that made Jon Snow forget all the joy he might have had earlier with his brother, the only person aside from his father who did not treat him any less because of his name. Not being able to see his father, let alone call him as such broke the boy's heart. So, with his chest heavy with sadness, Jon trudged to his room, grabbed his harp and made his way to the Godswood. He would not sing, but he would play in hopes to cheer himself up.
Holding the harp close to him, Jon headed to the stone arch that dignified as the entrance to Winterfell's holy ground. As always, there were two guards dressed in Stark armor and helms assigned to protect the Godswood. Not that there really ever was a reason, but it showed all who saw them how strongly House Stark valued and stayed true to the faith of the old gods. Fortunately for Jon, it was always the same guards and they had grown rather fond of the Bastard of Winterfell. Before he received his harp, the two men almost loathed their boring positions and almost grew to resent it. But, thanks to the talented little boy with the most beautiful voice they ever heard, the men grew to love their positions just a little bit more.
"Good morning, little Snow." one of the guards, named Jasper greeted kindly. He was an older man who had been serving House Stark since Jon's uncle Benjen had been born. With as old as he was, Jon always imagined him as someone's grandfather.
"Hello." Jon quietly greeted as he clutched his harp.
"Lady Stark got you down, again?" the other guard asked with sympathy. This one's name was Cole. A man from Wintertown who was offered a position in Winterfell's guard by Benjen during Robert's Rebellion to replace the many soldiers and guards that left to fight with Ned as his bannermen.
"Can I enter, please?" Jon asked, knowing it was not his place as a bastard to speak ill of his lord father's wife.
"Of course, lad." Cole gently reassured knowing how upset his lord's wife made the boy, "You are always welcome in here."
"Take as much time as you need." Jasper said soothingly liked a kind grandfather.
Slowly walking through the arch, Jon made his way to the great Weirwood Tree of his ancestors. Despite grim face carved into the white tree, Jon never felt afraid of it like most children probably would. The gods of his faith did not have all the rules like Catelyn's did, so he never felt judged like he knew her gods judged him. In fact, the tree's face often reminded him of his father's. Perhaps that was another reason why he felt so accepted whenever he would come into the Godswood. But now, with the cruel reminder of what he was still ringing through his ears, the boy just leaned against the tree, thought of a song and began to strum his cold, little fingers against the strings.
In the meantime, after riding along the King's Road for who knows how long, Eddard Stark, lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, atop his horse could see his ancestral home and the family he eagerly waited to see inside of it. Of course, the Quiet Wolf's silent awe and longing was interrupted by his boisterous best friend and king.
"Seven Hells!" Robert Baratheon cursed loudly, "If I don't find myself a tree or privy soon I'm gonna piss so hard I'll carve out a new river for the entire North."
"Aye, and that can be the song the minstrels sing to remember you by." Ned smirked, "'King Robert's Golden River' I'd wager they'd call it."
"Ha!" Robert burst, "And they say you Northmen have no sense of humor. Now let's hurry up and ride before I make the first verse all over this damn horse."
"Ever the elegant speaker, our king." Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard remarked with an amused smirk as he rode up to Ned's side.
"Aye." Ned nodded with a smirk of his own, "And he's only gotten worse with age."
With no more time to waste, the two brothers in bond led the victorious lords, knights, and Kingsguard through the gates of Winterfell where they were greeted by all who lived in the magnificent keep. Thankfully, Robert was able to keep his piss in check so he could finally meet and greet his best friend's family. As Ned rode in, he saw his beautiful red-headed wife bowing while sneaking a glance up at him with a small, happy smile which he gave back. He could see his youngest daughter, Arya, wrapped in a bundle in his wife's arms while their son and daughter were bowing at her sides. However, Ned immediately noticed Jon was not with them, or even in the crowd of people in service to him.
"Cat must have sent him away." Ned thought. No matter how much he had grown to love his wife, how she treated the boy always disappointed and upset him. It was the one thing that caused friction in their marriage. Catelyn would say or do something to the boy to remind him what he was and then later demand Ned to send Jon away. This always resulted in Ned firmly denying her and saying since he was of his blood, the child would stay in Winterfell where he belonged. Hopefully, he could avoid that old argument after they retired and simply be a husband and wife reuniting after a long war-caused separation.
"Promise me, Ned." a familiar voice filled his head. Every time he saw or, at least, thought of Jon, that voice and request rang through his ears. After dismounting his horse, Ned looked to his beloved family and home.
"My lord-husband." Catelyn politely greeted.
"My lady-wife." Ned greeted back with a smile as he helped her up. Being a Northman, Ned wasted no time in bringing her in for a loving kiss, careful not to smoosh the baby between them.
"Gods, now this is a keep!" Robert bellowed with praise as he dismounted his horse. As he did, his gold-armored Kingsguard dismounted and stood stoically, waiting to defend their king if need be. "Not like that shit smelling red one they have me locked up in down south."
"Your Grace." Catelyn greeted with a curtsy.
"Cat!" Robert happily greeted as he gave her a hug, "Look at you. As beautiful as the day you married this grim wolf."
"Thank you, Your Grace." Catelyn smiled as the king looked to her children.
"Hello, there." he cooed warmly at baby Arya before moving to her other children, "This strapping, young lad must be Robb."
"Aye, Your Grace." Robb said with a respectful nod.
"And this pretty one must be Sansa." Robert said looking down at the blushing girl.
"Pleased to meet you, Your Grace." she said with a curtsy.
"Pleasure's all mine, little lady." he chuckled before darting his eyes around, "Where's your bastard, Ned?" Robert asked, completely unaware of how it displeased Catelyn, "I want get a good look at him."
"Cat?" Ned asked his wife.
"Your bastard is in the Godswood, my lord." Catelyn replied almost stiffly.
"Oh." Robert said in disappointment, "Well, no point in interrupting the lad from whatever it is he's doing. I still need to take a right royal piss."
The joke was not unlost to Robb which caused him to choke back a laugh while earning glares from his mother and sister. After the king and his Hand settled in, along with all the other knights and guests of Winterfell, Ned immediately headed towards the Godswood to see his son. With his lordly cloak catching the wind behind him as he walked, Ned made it to the guarded arch where his loyal men bowed their heads in respect.
"Welcome home, Lord Stark." Jasper greeted with respect.
"My lord." Cole nodded.
"Is he in there?" Ned asked getting straight to the point.
"Aye, he is." Jasper nodded, "He's barely played a tune since he got here. I think Lady Catelyn really upset him this time."
"Hmm. As you were." Ned said with a nod as he walked through. Sure enough, as he expected, his bastard son was sitting up against the heart tree with a sad face and his harp on the ground next to him.
"No songs today, ey?" Ned said with a small smile to his boy. At the sound of his father's voice, Jon's head snapped up and looked at him as though he were a dream.
"F-" Jon was about to address him as he normally did, but Lady Catelyn's words rang through his ears before giving a small bow, "Lord Stark." he said sadly.
"Lord Stark?" Ned chuckled lightly in confusion, "Since when does my own son feel the need to address me so formally?"
"L-Lady Catelyn said that since I'm a bastard, I should not be in the king's presence and shame House Stark any more than I already have. And that I dishonor you and shouldn't call you father." Jon said timidly before hastily adding, "My-my lord."
"Jon, you don't need to call me that. Especially here of all places." Ned told his boy who looked so confused and torn.
"But-but, I'm…" Jon stuttered as he tried to keep his tears under control, rapidly blinking as he did. But, when he saw his loving father get down on one knee to his level for him, with his arms open for him and a small, almost sad smile on his face, Jon relented. Running as fast as he could into his father's arms, Jon sobbed and let lose all the tears he had been trying to burry within since Ned left. And Ned didn't care in the slightest about all the tears and snot his boy was smearing into his cloak and clothes. All he cared about was reminding his little pup how much he loved him.
"I missed you." Jon sniffled as Ned hugged him, "I missed you so much, Papa!"
"I missed you, too, my sweet boy." Ned whispered as he held Jon tighter, "So very much."
After holding his bastard and giving him the love he needed to feel, Ned led Jon back to the castle in order to address, probably, the most important matter of the Greyjoy's Rebellion; Balon Greyjoy's last living son. The boy in question had been escorted by members of Ned's guard in order to keep an eye on him. After being brought into the great hall, little Theon Greyjoy was looking around at the grim looking place he would now be calling home while being kept prisoner. He did not want to admit it out loud to his captors, but the castle was rather impressive, in its own way; even with the lack of an ocean beneath it.
Lord Stark had already explained his situation on Pyke and on the way north. Until the king allowed it, Theon was not allowed to return to the Iron Islands or his family. Lord Stark was now his liege lord and Theon would have to obey him now that he was his ward. He was a Kraken as farther from the sea than any had been before him. He did not belong in this frozen den of wolves.
"Theon." Ned had called gaining the boy's attention.
This man was not his father. His father was on Pyke.
"Come. I'll introduce you to my wife and children." he said without any room for discussion.
That woman was not his mother and those children were not his siblings. His mother was dead and so were all his siblings except for his sister Yara. But as long as these people had the same name as his new liege lord, he had to show them the same courtesy and respect as him. Following Ned, Theon came face to face with the three Stark children, their mother, and Jon who he assumed was another Stark.
"Theon, this is my wife, Lady Catelyn of House Tully of the Riverlands." Ned introduced.
"My lady." Theon bowed while thinking, "Fresh-water fish-whore."
"And these are our children. Robb, my heir and first-born. Sansa and Arya, our daughters."
"A slobbering wolf and future plunder for the Iron Born." Theon viciously thought as he bowed again.
"Who's he?" Theon asked nodding towards Jon.
"Jon Snow." Ned replied knowing his next words would cut through his pup, "My bastard son."
"He's not a Stark." Theon thought trying to suppress his malicious grin. It was at that moment Theon was grateful to know what a bastard was.
Night eventually fell on Winterfell, and the feast celebrating Robert's victory rang through every hall of Winterfell; mostly on account of Robert himself and his drunken laughter. Not one for crowds, Jon decided to spend time outside and train with his sword. He wasn't angry, but it was better to be sweating outside in the cold than sweating inside under Lady Catelyn's glares. As he swung his sword, Jon finally noticed he had a spectator.
"Is he dead yet?" the familiar voice playfully asked. Swiftly turning his head, Jon saw his smiling, black-clad uncle, Benjen Stark of the Night's Watch.
"Uncle!" Jon happily exclaimed before dropping his sword and running up to chuckling relative. Eager to embrace his nephew, Benjen took a knee and opened his arms for the boy and picked him up for a big hug, laughing as he did.
"Ah, you've gotten so big!" Benjen laughed as he put Jon down and ruffled his black curls, "You'll be as big as your father before long."
"What are you doing here, Uncle?" Jon asked.
"Well, I heard my brooding, big brother helped the king in killing some squids during the rebellion and came back with a few prisoners. I came down from the Wall to see if I could bring some back with me to take the black." Benjen answered before ruffling Jon's head again before his nephew laughed and pushed his hand off, "And it gives me an excuse to see my dear nephews and nieces. But I wonder. Why are you out here in the cold and not inside enjoying the feast? I imagine there's a lot of tasty food to eat and pretty girls to dance with."
"Eh." Jon shrugged causing Benjen to laugh again, "I just don't like crowds."
"Fair enough. I remember your father being the same way." he recalled nostalgically, "Knowing him, he's probably jealous that you're able to be out here away from everyone and not him! Still though, why don't you and I head in and grab some food?"
"Hmm, in a bit." Jon decided, "There's something about my technique that's been pissing me off lately and I wanna fix it."
"Cursing already." Benjen chuckled as he brought Jon in for another hug, "Aye, you are a Northerner, little pup. Don't stay out too long. I'll save you a kidney pie."
Once Benjen had made his way into his ancestral home, letting the memories of his youth and family fill his mind, he found his grim, elder brother sitting next to his best friend, clearly annoyed that Robert was already drunk. Much to his surprise and happiness, Ned spotted Benjen through the crowd and gave him a grateful smile before Benjen approached the table he once sat at with his parents, brothers and sister as a boy.
"Your Grace." Benjen politely bowed, "Lord Stark. Lady Stark."
"Ah, Be-Benjen." Robert acknowledged, albeit drunkenly, "Down from the Wall, eh?"
"Aye, Your Grace. I understand you have kept several prisoners from the Balon Greyjoy's army. If I might have a bit of your time, perhaps we could discuss their futures; and, possibly, some affairs the Night's Watch could use assistance with from the crown?"
"…Why not?!" Robert shouted, tossing his hands in the air and most of his drink. Staggering to get up, the Stag King jolted his head to Barristan, squinting as though he were trying to limit the number of Barristans he was looking at.
"Go get some air! I'm tired of looking at your stoic mug for the night." Robert spat at the knight once sworn to the dragon prince he killed.
"Your Grace, as your Kingsguard, it is my-"
"Seven Hells!" Robert shouted, "He's a bloody Ranger of the Night's Watch! He's no more allowed to kill me than you are! Get a drink, eat fish, piss on a tree for all I care!"
"…As you command, Your Grace." the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard relented. Having enough of the drunken warmonger who killed his prince and forced Barristan to serve him instead, the old knight briskly left the great hall and went outside to clear his head.
Once he was outside, he desperately tried to control his anger, hatred and grief. Anger to all seven gods for condemning him to this pitiful duty. Hatred to Robert for killing Rhaegar, the best man Barristan ever knew who would have been the greatest king in the history of Westeros. And grief for the memory of Rhaegar; the prince he failed to save when he needed his friend the most. Every day since the Battle of the Trident, the day his current king caved in Rhaegar's chest with his war hammer and sent the rubies on his armor flying, Barristan Selmy The Bold could not help but wonder how things could have been different if it was Rhaegar who won, not Robert. Instead of serving a bitter drunk, haunted by the ghost of his enemy, he would be serving a wise, kind and gallant Targaryen king. Standing at his side as they watched the princess grow into a beautiful woman and the prince into a strong, brave man.
"Why did it have to be you, my prince?" Barristan sadly thought, "Why did it have to be you who died while I lived?"
But no answer came. However, the old knight did hear something, aside from the music and laughter coming from inside. Hearing the all too familiar sound of a training dummy being struck, Ser Barristan followed the sound until he found Jon grunting as he trained. Although, it was very clear to the knight the boy was frustrated.
"Seven Hells!" the young bastard cursed.
"Having a bit of trouble?" Barristan kindly asked with a smile.
"Aye." Jon huffed, blowing a stray curl away from his brow, "I'm doing something wrong, but can't figure out what. It's so infuriating!"
"What are you trying to do?" Barristan asked, "Because it seems to me, if you wanted this one dead, there'd be no problem."
"Ser Rodrick taught me this move I'm using, but I keep showing too much of my back when I do it!" Jon exclaimed.
"Show me." Barristan said, nodding to the dummy. Nodding his head, Jon took a breath to steady himself and performed his technique for the knight. Sure enough, Jon revealed too much of his back as he finished. Thankfully, Barristan was a man with years of experience and knew just what the boy needed.
"You're throwing too much of your weight into the strike." he coached as he gently guided Jon through the proper motion, "You're trying to make up for your lack of strength by throwing your body weight at the end; probably trying to imitate this Ser Rodrick who taught you. He's bigger and stronger than you, so he uses that move differently. Not every swordsman is the same, so, you'll have to make adjustments based on your size, speed, and strength. Try coming in a little lower and strike up, next time. The results should be correct, you won't expose your back, and you'll be in a better position to parry the next attack."
Taking the knight's advice, Jon attempted the adjustment against the dummy. Just as Barristan explained, Jon's back was not exposed and he was in the perfect position to perform a parry if need be. Needless to say, the young bastard was ecstatic, and the old knight was happy to see his advice come through for an eager, young swordsman in the making.
"Thank you, Ser." Jon thanked before realizing the man who helped him was actually a member of the Kingsguard. At that moment, Jon's happy face immediately turned to fear as he swiftly bowed his head, hoping to be forgiven for his lack of respect. Thankfully, Barristan was humbler than most knights in Kings Landing and quickly assured the boy there was nothing to be sorry about.
"No need to apologize, lad. It's alright." he assured with a comforting smile, "I must say, you're very talented for a boy your age."
"Thank you, my lord." Jon nodded, "Um, which of King Robert's Kingsguard are you, again?"
"I am Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to Robert Baratheon." he introduced, "And you are?"
"…Jon Snow." Jon replied expecting the knight to treat him differently because of his name.
"Ah, so you are Lord Stark's bastard." Barristan nodded in understanding.
"Aye, my lord." Jon nodded in shame.
"I bet Lady Stark must hate that you look more Stark than her own children, eh?" Barristan playfully asked.
"…Aye, she does." Jon replied, looking away as if the woman were glaring down her nose at him at that very moment. It did not take very long for Ser Barristan to realize he had hit a sore topic for the boy.
"She doesn't want you here, does she?" Barristan asked sympathetically. Although he followed the faith of the seven, he would not support the bias against innocent children; bastards or not.
"A bastard has no place in a noble house." Jon miserably answered.
"Tell me, young Snow, are you Ned Stark's son?" Barristan asked.
"Y-Yes?" Jon asked in confusion.
"And were the Starks known as the Kings of Winter in the times of old, before the Targaryens?" he asked.
"Aye, everyone knows that." Jon replied growing even more confused.
"Then why is someone with such a legendary bloodline concerning himself with what others think?" Barristan gently asked as he took a knee before the boy, "You may think it was the Stark name that made your ancestors great, but it wasn't. It was their actions, not any one house but theirs. A name is just that; a name. You may be a Snow, but you are no different than anyone else in your family. Not in here." he said tapping the boy's chest.
"But everyone else in the world sees bastards as sinful, backstabbing demons!" Jon exclaimed in frustration.
"Not everyone." Barristan calmly corrected, "I don't. I have met and befriended plenty of bastards in my long life. I do not care their parents were not married when they were born. It does not change the deeds they did, nor does it change our bonds. All of Dorne even does not care. Nearly all of Essos does not care, from what I am told. Besides, why should you care what other people think? They do not know you. So any insults they say regarding you being a bastard are invalid and ignorant. You know who you are. The people you love know who you are and they know who you are. They should be the only ones you care about how they think of you because you do not want to let them down. Has Lady Stark ever taken the time to know you? Truly know you?"
"No." Jon said, shaking his head.
"Then anything she says or does to remind you that you are a bastard is meaningless." Barristan explained, "There have been many bastards throughout the history of Westeros who made names for themselves and live on as legends because they did not let the scrutiny of others stand in their way. Are you going to let that happen?"
"No, my lord." Jon declared as the knight rose.
"Make sure you don't." Barristan urged with a small smile, "With skills like that, should you keep training, your legend may become even greater than Ser Arthur Dayne's."
After the knight left, Jon picked up his sword and twirled it in his hand with an excited grin at the thought. A northern bastard becoming an even greater legend than the Sword of the Morning. Feeling good enough with his technique, Jon put away his sword, washed his face and went inside to join the feast. However, when he entered the hall, looking past the crowd to see his father and siblings, the Bastard of Winterfell saw something that sent a cold stab to his heart, practically killing all the words of encouragement Ser Barristan had given him earlier. Sitting at the table of Jon's ancestors, next his brother and laughing with him as they talked, was Theon Greyjoy.
"Ah, Snow! You finally decided to join us." one of the Stark bannermen drunkenly cheered with his mug aloft at the table to Jon's right.
"Finally get enough air out there?" another teased in good faith while Jon kept staring at the Iron Born hostage.
"Why is the Greyjoy sitting up there with Robb?" Jon finally asked. That little question sobered the men who heard it, even just a little.
"Oh, well, see, lad," the first man struggled, "The Greyjoy brat may be a hostage now, but he's still a highborn. So, he has more of a right to sit with your brother than you do since…since you're a bastard."
"But he's not a Stark!" Jon nearly shouted.
"Aye, but neither are you, lad." the man reminded.
"Ah, enough of that!" the other man said hoping to change the subject for the boy, "Come, join us! When you're tucked back this far, you can drink all the ale you want and not get caught by Lord Stark."
"No thank you." Jon quietly denied, "My uncle Benjen said he'd save a kidney pie for me. I wanna eat it with him."
"Alright, lad. If that's what you want."
"You'll have to wait, though. Your uncle's off trying to convince the king to help out the Night's Watch. Maybe you can get your brother down from there and come eat with you while you wait."
It was not a bad idea, so Jon shrugged his shoulders and made his way past the eating, drinking and laughing lords and knights until he got close enough for Robb to see him. Having enough experience with Jon, Robb knew his half-brother needed somebody to cheer him up. So, without so much as a word to his parents, Robb pushed out his seat and hurried over to his brother and best friend with Theon at his tail.
"Did you figure out how to fix it?" Robb asked in regards to Rodrick's move.
"Aye, I did." Jon nodded as Theon came over to them, "Ser Barristan himself helped me figure out how."
"Really?!" Robb exclaimed in excitement.
"Barristan the Bold?" Theon sneered with a slight slur. It had been obvious to Jon the hostage had been drinking more than he should have had. "The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard helped you? You're a bastard. Why would he help you?"
"Hey." Robb admonished.
"Maybe because got so tired of watching pirates fight like idiots he didn't want to see another person grow and fight and lose as badly as your father's bannermen did." Jon shot back.
"Alright!" Robb said, literally stepping between the two boys before a fight began. At that moment, Jon felt a small hand tug on his sleeve. Turning around, Jon saw his sister Sansa holding his harp with a shy look on her face.
"Jon?" she cutely asked, not at all realizing she just stopped a fight.
"Sansa, what are you doing with my harp?" Jon gently asked as he composed himself.
"I don't like the music they're playing." she said before offering his instrument in her stretched arms, "Yours is better. Will you play something for me?"
Jon was about to accept his sister's request, however, Theon decided he was not done trying to make the Bastard of Winterfell as miserable as he was.
"Give it here!" he barked as he shoved Jon away and took the harp, "I'll show you what a real song is! A real Iron Born shanty, that's what."
Even if Theon had not been drunk at the time, everyone would later agree, as the years went on, that even sober, the Greyjoy heir would have sounded just as terrible as he did that night as he sang badly and plucked the harp's strings too hard. The three children, and most of the people near them, covered their ears and winced at the terrible sounds Theon was making.
"Someone shut that squid up!" one of the lords shouted.
"He sings as bad as his brothers fought!" another bellowed causing some of the men to laugh. That was the wrong thing to do.
"Give me back my harp, Greyjoy!" Jon demanded while Sansa kept her ears covered, just to be safe.
"That was awful!" Sansa cried.
"It's not my fault!" Theon shouted at them in anger as he clenched the harp tightly in his fist, "It's the stupid harp. It's broken!"
In his drunken fit, Theon did something that made Jon feel as though the world was moving much slower than it normally did. As soon as Theon claimed the harp was broken, he threw it with all his might on the ground and smashed it completely beyond repair; and made sure it stayed that way as he stomped on it to break it even more. By this time, all the men in the hall, including the musicians, had stopped talking and laughing and turned their attention to the children in the back corner.
Robb looked completely appalled at what his new friend had done and Sansa looked confused and scared at the outburst. Jon, on the other hand, looked down at his most prized possession in shock. He would have retaliated against Theon had it not been for what happened next.
"Oh, did that upset you, bastard?" Theon sneered before grabbing a plate of lemon cake, "Here. Maybe this'll make you feel better!"
As most of the onlookers expected, Theon slammed the plate on Jon's head and smeared it down to his face. If anyone had been stupid enough, or drunk enough, or both to say it, they would have said Jon looked half Lannister with all the yellow cake and icing in his hair.
Having enough of seeing his son bullied, Ned rose to his feet in anger and stormed over to his children and ward; completely ignoring Catelyn's attempt to stop him. Sansa was in tears at how her brother was being treated and Robb looked as though he was about to punch Theon by the time Ned stormed over and grabbed his ward tightly by the arm. He may not have been the boy's father, but he would still discipline him as if he were his own. Saying no words, Ned harshly pulled Theon out of the hall to his chambers to be punished. After they left, Robb looked to his brother in concern.
"Jon?" he gently asked. The young bastard had said and did nothing in those moments. All he did was shake in anger as he tried to control himself and not beat the Greyjoy brat into the floor. Having enough of everyone staring at him, Jon sprinted to the exit across the hall leaving bits of cake on the floor behind him. Although he did not realize, not daring to look around, the poor boy ran past his uncle who soon followed him.
Even though Jon did not have his harp, he still went straight to the Godswood. He struggled not to cry the entire time he ran and did so until he came to the base of the Weirwood tree and the black water pool before it. Thanks to the full moon out that night, Jon could clearly see his reflection in the dark water. He could see all the Stark features his siblings did not possess and all the cake in his hair. In his anger and resentment, Jon smacked away his reflection, splashing the ground with the water. But, sure enough, his reflection returned and so he splashed it away again several more times. Finally, he saw someone else's reflection instead of his own.
"Jon." Benjen gently spoke with sympathy, "What are you doing?"
"People treat me different!" Jon spat as Benjen took a knee and dipped the end of his cloak in the water.
"Probably because you're covered in cake." he lightly chuckled hoping to defuse the tension as he ran the cloak through his nephew's hair to wash out the cake.
"No!" Jon shouted, "They all treat me like dirt! Lady Catelyn-"
"Close your mouth." Benjen gently said before wiping the boy's face.
"Lady Catelyn says I don't belong here!" Jon finished.
"Never mind what Lady Catelyn says." Benjen gently told as his nephew tried to wriggle away, "Hold still, lad."
"Look at me!" Jon shouted after breaking free as if to show his uncle whatever physical trait everyone saw that made him a bastard; not that he could ever see it.
"…I am, Jon." Benjen said with sincerity before going back to cleaning the boy up, "And I see every Stark feature imaginable when I look at you. I see the same eyes I have, you father has, your Uncle Brandon had, your grandfather had…your aunt Lyanna had. But most of all, I see my dear, kind, and beloved nephew whom I love very much and look forward to seeing every time I come down from Castle Black. I see a boy who is nothing like what those damn southerners believe all bastards are. I see a boy who wants nothing more than to be acknowledged for the man he is becoming and not some bastard name he was forced to bear."
"But why does everyone else treat me like that?" Jon miserably asked.
"Everyone?" Benjen asked, "I know for a fact that your father doesn't, and neither do your siblings. I also know that many of the people here in Winterfell don't either because they have watched you grow since you were an even smaller pup than you are now."
"I'm not a pup!" Jon cried as tears fell down his red cheeks and shoved Benjen's hand off his head, "I'm not a Stark! I'm a Snow! I can't be a Direwolf!"
"Oh, Jon." Benjen sighed, "Jon, Jon, Jon. There is so much more to being a true Stark than just having the name. You're more Stark than that fish-wife Tully woman, that's for damn sure. And damn her gods for putting those lies in her head about you."
"Why does she hate me so much?" Jon asked through his sniffles, "I didn't ask to be born this way. I don't want to be a bastard!"
"I know, pup." Benjen sadly whispered as he finally brought Jon for a much needed hug, "I don't want you to be one, either."
"It's not fair." Jon whimpered, "She gets the Stark name just because she married Father and-and Theon gets to sit up there with Robb and Father only because he's a highborn. It's not right!"
"No, it's not." Benjen agreed, "I've been around more Starks than anyone besides your father, and I know there is none more deserving to sit at the same table the Kings of Winter once sat at than you."
Normally, Benjen would offer someone with a similar experience to Jon's a place in the Night's Watch where all would be welcome. However, Benjen knew fully well that Jon was afraid of the Night's Watch and had absolutely no intention of ever voluntarily joining as he did. Still, there was one thing he could do to lift the boy's spirits.
"I have something for you, if you want it." he said as they broke apart.
"What?" Jon asked as he snorted back his snot.
"I was going to have your father hold onto it until your nameday, but after the day you've had, and what that Theon brat did, I think now is better." Benjen said as he rummaged through his leather, travel knapsack.
As he pulled out the gift, Jon gasped in wonder at what his uncle revealed. It was a harp, one unlike any he ever seen or dreamed. It was made from Weirwood branches in a curved, U-shape with red, Weirwood leaves still connected to the top sides; one of the left, two on the right.
"They say when a branch or leaf falls from the great Weirwood trees, they are gifts from our gods. It takes a lot to break off a leaf or branch from these trees, nearly impossible. I have been collecting whatever I can find since I was a boy here in Winterfell. And since joining the Night's Watch, I have also collected what has fallen from the Weirwood tree beyond the Wall. When the First Men, our ancestors, first came to this land, the Children of the Forest made bows and arrows from their many Weirwood trees, hoping the gods would be with them as they fought. We may have taken their land, but we have also taken on their faith and follow the old ways of the First Men. It is in the hearts of all true Northerners. This harp is made from the branches of both those trees. When you play this harp, Jon Snow, you will be playing the Heart of the North."
"…Thank you, Uncle Benjen." Jon softly said as he held his gift with tears of joy in his eyes. Gently setting the harp against the tree, Jon gave his uncle the strongest hug he could muster.
"You're very welcome, nephew." Benjen smiled as he hugged Jon back and kissed his head.
"Can-can I…" Jon trailed shyly as he looked back and forth between his harp and uncle.
"It's yours. Go ahead." Benjen chuckled.
"Um…" Jon trailed again. As much as he enjoyed playing, he preferred to do it when he was alone.
"Oh, I see." Benjen nodded in understanding, "I'll give you two some privacy."
Looking around to see if he was truly alone, Jon took a deep breath, thought of the song he wanted to sing, leaned against the Weirwood, looked up at the full moon and began to strum his harp and sing a song dedicated to an old Essosi prophecy he heard from the minstrel who gave him his first harp.
"They sang of leaves, of leaves of old, and leaves there grew
Of wind they sang, a wind there came and in them blew
Azor Ahai~!
In light they wove a secret land of timeless joy
The perfect child no mortal hand could dare destroy
Azor Ahai~!
Beyond the sun
Beyond the moon
Wonder
Wonder~!
Shine forever
Beacon of light
Blaze in the air
Vanquishing night
Live forever
Held like a breath
Deep at the core
Blossom in death~"
As Jon sang, Ned had come out to the balcony overseeing the Godswood after disciplining Theon. Once he did, he could see his son and listen to his beautiful singing voice. It broke his heart to see his pup be treated so poorly because of his birth. But he knew what would happen if he confessed the truth.
"Promise me, Ned." the haunting voice rang in his head again, "You have to protect him. Promise me."
"Have I kept my promise?" Ned thought to himself while also asking the gods he worshiped. As he did, Jon continued to sing.
"The Weirwood trees will fade and fall through branching years
Though sweet the song yet sweeter still shall be the tears
The night must come, the shadows grow, the dark descend
And all we love and all we know must reach an end
Azor Ahai~!
Though worlds will die and worlds will grow!
Out of death, life
Out of night, day
Glory from sorrow
Out of grief, joy
Out of storm, comes
Strength for tomorrow
Out of dust, gold
Out of fire, air
Comfort forsaken
Out of rage, calm
Out of loss, find
Glory awaken~"
As Jon continued to strum the tune for this song, he began to hum the melody before loudly singing vocally with grace. As he did, Ser Barristan, who was still unwanted by his king, was walking past the entrance to the Godswood and saw Jon through the arch. At that moment, when the boy loudly sang, the old knight's breath was taken away. Instead of Jon, the old man saw the ghost of his Dragon Prince Rhaegar singing in the streets of Kings Landing. It also didn't help that Jon was singing an old favorite of the late Targaryen. Tears fell from Barristan as he fell to his knees in shock as he continued to listen to the song.
"It can't be." he sadly thought as he shook his head, "It just can't."
"Shine forever
Beacon of light!
Blaze in the air
Vanquishing night!
Sing forever
Proud and strong
Anthem of life
Conquering song!
Though tides of fate
Onward run
The song of hope
Once begun
Will evermore
Remain~"
Once the golden-voiced bastard finished, he let loose the tension left within him from the rotten day. By releasing this tension, he finally, completely took in the words given to him by his father, uncle and Ser Barristan. It was at that moment, Jon Snow made a decision that would shape the rest of his life and all the struggles he would face.
"I'll prove them all wrong." he whispered to Weirwood's face before looking to the moon, "I'll show them all that I'm more than just a bastard. This I swear."
So, in case you couldn't tell, Jon is more like Rhaegar in this story. I know there are plenty of stories with the same general idea, but honestly, how many of those actually get finished an differ from each other? Not a lot, from what I've read; trust me, I've looked.
Quick little heads up for those of you familiar with how I write, I don't have HBO anymore, since the show's over, so I'll be relying on clips of the show provided via YouTube for accuracy. That being said, the dialogue won't be 100% accurate like I've done with OUaT and the movies/shows I used in my old Kingdom Hearts stories.
In any case, Jon will not be going to the Night's Watch, as I said before. Instead, he will have a different role. As far as I know, there isn't another fanfic with what I have in mind; not entirely.
I don't know how often I will update this; it won't be soon because I'm going on a hiking trip for about five days starting tomorrow. But, since I'm taking a break from The Evil Queen's Brother, I'll try to update as often as I can.
So, please, let me know what you thought of this, any and all feedback is appreciated via review or PM (except flames, there's no need to be spiteful) and if you liked this and want to see how it turns out, like/follow it and/or me to stay updated. And if you are a guest, I'll respond to your review(s) in sections like this in the update that follows your post.
Hope you all enjoyed! Bye!