Prompt:
Instead of being Lyanna Stark's son by Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon Snow is Ashara Dayne's son by Brandon Stark and it makes all the difference.
Chapter 1:
Winterfell
Backhand diagonal, Backhand Side, Overhead Cut, Feint Left, Forehand Thrust
Nothing, he didn't manage to land a single solid blow on the smirking knight in front of him. Ser Jamie's shield was dented and Jon managed a few solid blows against his armor but the kingslayer was essentially unfazed.
Nothing was more infuriating than fighting this smirking shit, nothing. Jon feinted right with his two-handed greatsword forcing the Kingslayer to raise up his shield, and then lowered his shoulder and slammed into him shoving him backwards before launching into a furious combination. Finally, the knight seemed to take him seriously, he stumbled back off balanced and ducked the cut that would have nearly taken his head off before parrying the next two blows. Unfortunately for Jon, the window of opportunity was at an end and the knight regained his balance and decided it was time to end the fight.
Jamie Lannister smiled before launching his own attack. His one-handed sword was everywhere at once and it took all Jon had to keep him at bay. Far too quickly, it was over and he was on the floor with the point of the knight's sword to his throat and his boot on his chest rougher than necessary.
"Yield?"
Jon swallowed his pride and rage and nodded. "Aye I yield". Lannister walked away and handed his sword to one of the squires in his retinue before motioning for the man to help him take off his armor. He barely acknowledged Jon except to smirk and say, "I expected better."
The small crowd seemed to dissipate. The Lannister men walking back towards the castle where the little shit Joffrey loudly talked about how pathetic northern swordsman were, and how it was lucky for Robb his master at arms didn't let him use live steel, "else he'd be wailing like a woman." Robb bristled but Jon was too angry to care. He stormed past him barely stopping to throw his armor back on the rack where Theon was leaning there smirking. It was enough to set him off, "Something funny Squid?".
Greyjoy looked as if someone had told him he'd finally be allowed to return to the miserable shithole he called home. "'Bout time someone put you in your place bastard." That was the last straw for Jon, he sucker punched him right in the nose before throwing him to the floor and beating on him as hard as he could, punctuating each punch with a word. "What. did. I. say. about. calling. me a bastard." It took Robb and two other guards to get Jon off Theon by which time his nose was busted he probably had two black eyes and may have lost a tooth.
Robb was furious, "What the fuck is your problem? You lose one bout in the yard and go beating up on Theon. Huh?"
"Get off. Let me go stark" Jon wasn't in the mood for another Gods damned lecture about controlling his temper. He hadn't fought with anyone in moons and the smiling shit was practically daring him. He flailed his arms and shoved one of the guards off him before Robb held up his hand.
"Let him go, let's get Theon to the maester." he told the guards as Greyjoy groaned on the ground, head throbbing no doubt. He turned back to Jon and fixed him with an icy stare and his lords' voice, "Father will want words with you, you better come as well."
"I doubt it," Jon spat "He's too busy with the king to notice his children, I doubt he'll make time for his bastard nephew."
Robb started to speak before Greyjoy interrupted him. " Let the bastard go Robb. Let him enjoy his last few days at Winterfell." He turned to smirk at Jon, or tried to, it didn't work well with blood in his mouth and slurred words, but the effect infuriated Jon all the same. "Best remember this bastard, maybe it'll comfort you when you freeze your prick off at the wall." The guards pulled him around the corner and Jon was left fuming. Robb gave one last shaking his head with pity and annoyance before he turned to follow.
Jon stormed off and walked into the crypts until he found himself under his father's icy gaze. Brandon starks stone visage looked nothing like he had in life, or so Lord stark had told him, Jon had never met his father. Apparently, Jon was his spitting image, other than the violet eyes he'd gotten from his mother. They were alike in personality too apparently, the wolf's blood, Lord stark called it. Brandon Stark had lived his life for the same things Jon did. For fucking and fighting and feasting and laughing. The wild wolf they'd called him, until he was so wild he stormed into the Red Keep and demanded that the crown prince "Come out and die". Then he'd watched his father burn alive and strangled himself to death trying to save him. A smarter man might've accepted his father's fate, and lived to fight another day, but not his father, wild to the very end.
Jon often wondered how his life would have been different if his father had lived. He used to dream about it, maybe his father would have wed Ashara Dayne and he'd have been the heir instead of a bastard Lady Catelyn despised. Maybe, but in his heart, he knew that was unlikely, most like his life would probably have been worse. His father didn't feel the same about responsibility, the way Lord Stark did according to what he heard, but even he was brought to heel by their father. Most likely he'd have wed Lady Catelyn just like Lord Eddard but would never have brought him home to Winterfell. His mother would have still gotten sick shortly after birthing him and chose to jump off the pale sword tower when she learned her death was inevitable rather than wait to grow sickly and die. And Jon would have been even more alone.
Not that Jon truly felt alone now, he had his cousins. Robb who he loved like a brother, even though he was stiff shit sometimes. And Bran and Rickon who were far younger than him but would always be his brothers, if not in blood than in bond. And Arya of course, the only one other than him with the wolfs blood. Well, other than maybe Rickon but it was too early to tell. The only other one who just didn't care about duty or station or what was expected of them and just did what he fucking wanted to do. Even though Arya was still a child he loved her best of all. She just understood him in a way no one else seemed to. Of all his cousins only Sansa disliked him, and it didn't really bother Jon because he had no respect for her anyway. She was empty-headed and seemed to care for nothing more than songs.
Not that it mattered, it wasn't loneliness or his family's occasional disappointment that enraged him. It was the pity that set him off. Robb looking at him with pity in his eyes, as if there was something about Jon that he should pity. Jon who could beat him and Theon together to a pulp in the practice yard with one eye closed and his feet tied together. Jon who was apparently the best Bronze Yohn Royce had ever seen with a sword at 13. Jon who had been offered the hand of more than one lord's daughter and was loved by half Lord Stark's bannerman even as a bastard. There was something about him that Robb should pity. As if.
Jon sighed and sat down by his Father's grave and just stared into those stone-cold eyes. The sad truth was that there was, that Greyjoy was probably right. Lord Stark hadn't said anything to him since he'd come back from his hunt, since Bran fell, but he would leave the tomorrow and then what would Jon do.
Originally, he'd thought he'd go South with Lord Stark when he was named Hand of the King, but he knew he'd closed that option off when he'd dared to talk back that golden shit Joffrey in front of his mother. Queen Cersei had wanted his tongue out for daring to speak back to his Son being a bastard, but Lord Stark had saved him from that, and thankfully the king had been too drunk to pay any attention at the time. Even so, Lord Eddard had made it clear that he would not be welcome in the king's party after he'd done so. If Theon was to be believed Lord Stark had already decided he was going to the wall because of it but Jon had his doubts, he didn't think his Uncle would force him.
Maybe he could have gone to one of the Stark bannerman and be a guard or something, but he doubted it. The other lords liked him, but Lady Stark was convinced he was trying to usurp Robb and the lesser lords would be afraid of alienating the Lady of Winterfell especially when her husband was away. The higher lords would probably be too worried about him fucking their daughters, with his reputation so that knocked them out. In truth, they'd probably accept him, he got on well with The Small Jon and the Karstark boys and the Manderly's and a half dozen other lordlings but if there was one thing Jon hated it was having to beg, which Lady Stark took every opportunity to remind him was all he did. That everything he had he didn't deserve and came as a function of Lord Starks generosity.
So, what did that leave, the wall essentially. Where he could freeze and die with rapers' and murderers just like Theon always said. But at least he'd have his pride. Gods knows he had precious little else that was truly his own. Lady Stark would probably declare a fortnight of celebration when he took his vows, he thought hatefully. The woman had always despised him, first because he was a sign of Brandon dishonoring her when they were betrothed, and then because she said he was a threat to her children, just because he dared to beat the piss out of Robb sometimes.
He wasn't a threat to them, truly. He loved his cousins, he would never steal their inheritance and betray them. He just wasn't some meek little shit who bowed and scraped because he was born on the wrong side of the sheets. He wanted something out of his life, wanted to make a name for himself, to leave something behind, a legacy of his own. And he didn't make it a secret when he was better than someone at something, especially swordplay, heir to Winterfell or no.
Jon sighed and turned away to stare at his aunt, and then at this Grandfather and then at the countless other graves and statues at a distance. He didn't know how long he sat there until the door creaked open and the light spilled through. He didn't even have to look up to know who it was, Lord Stark.
The Lord of Winterfell grabbed a torch and approached Jon sighing. "Robb told me what happened, Jon. I thought we'd spoken of this already, you can't fight everyone that tells you a hard truth, no matter how it makes you feel." There were bags under his eyes which were laced with grief and exhaustion and disappointment. It was enough to make Jon feel a tad guilty, but only a tad.
"He had it coming." It was the truth, Theon Greyjoy was a shit. He'd been a shit the day Jon had met him, and he would be a shit the day he died. Only the gods knew how Robb didn't see it. The last time Jon had beaten the shit out of him had been 3 years ago, and if he was leaving now for good, he sure as shit would beat the piss out of him one last time.
Lord stark sighed again and surprisingly took a seat next to Jon, "Maybe he did. I've told you before you have a lot of your father in you. He would have beaten the shit out of Theon almost every time he opened his mouth no doubt, and he would have told off Joffrey too." He paused staring off into the darkness and rows of old Wardens and Kings in the north long departed. "But your father was the heir to Winterfell and even then, it caught up with him in the end." He turned to look at Jon directly in the eyes now, equal parts sadness and affection resting in his stark grey eyes. "I've raised you as my own Jon and I love you as I do any of my sons, but I've shielded you for as long as I can. Jon, tomorrow I leave to be Hand of the king, and I cannot force Lady Stark to keep you at Winterfell any longer."
He paused for a moment as if to gather his thoughts and Jon suddenly couldn't speak. It was the confirmation of everything he'd feared and suddenly it occurred to him that he didn't want to go to the wall. He wanted to fuck more girls to get piss drunk again and arm wrestle the Greatjon. He wanted to see Pentos and Myr and all those cities the Manderly's couldn't stop yapping about in Essos. He wanted to see his brother wake up and walk again.
Lord Stark continued with only a slight pause, "Nor can I take you with me in the king's party, your words to the crown prince would make it a slight and tempt fate." He turned away for a moment his eyes lingering on his brother's likeness. "My wife has insisted you be sent to the wall and take the black." He turned back to Jon for a moment before asking, "Do you want to take the black Jon?"
"No." he barely whispered out the word, with an uncharacteristic somberness that seemed appropriate, after all the vows were for life.
Lord Stark seemed to understand and grow older as a few seconds passed. "No, I thought not. There is honor in serving in the Night's Watch but I fear it is not something that appeals to you." In truth, the reason the Queen did not have you flogged, or your tongue pulled out for calling the Crown prince a liar and craven is because I told them you were going to the wall anyway." So, Theon wasn't lying, Jon thought bitterly. I don't even have another choice, my Uncle already decided for me. Lord stark continued as if nothing was amiss. " I have told them you will go to the wall and so you shall, but you shall not take the vows if you do not wish to."
Jon's eyes widened and at his confused gaze, his Uncle continued, "Lord Tyrion is traveling to visit the wall and you shall accompany him with a few of my bannerman. If you choose to take the vows you shall be able to. Otherwise, you will wait a few days until after Lord Tyrion has departed and then travel to White Harbor. Lord Manderly will provide you with a ship and a bag of silver to make your way wherever you choose."
Essos it was something Jon had always considered, but the prospect of being forced there still left a bitter taste in his mouth. "So, I'm to be exiled then for speaking the truth."
Lord stark shook his head, "So long as I'm Warden of the North no man shall be punished for speaking the truth. Nor will a man be punished without a trial. If you do not wish to travel to the wall or Essos I will not force you to. But you cannot remain here in Winterfell, you cannot foster with another of my bannerman as you are already a man grown, and you have made an enemy of the Lannisters. I would not put it past them to exact petty retribution in any kingdom they have influence, which is every kingdom between the North and Dorne. Where else would you wish to go?"
It was almost a rhetorical question, he didn't have anywhere else to go that was the problem. "I don't know." he said feeling like an idiot.
"I had thought you would be happy Jon. I know you've always wanted to make a name for yourself. I cannot say I have been to Essos but I have heard that in many places they have little regard for a man's birth, and many opportunities to advance in the world."
"I do, I just wanted to make a name for myself with my family there to see it. I wanted to make a name for myself in the north, in my home. I wanted you to be proud of the man I am." Jon ground out bitterly.
Lord stark's eyes softened, "I've always been proud of you Jon. I may not always agree with everything you do, and gods know you have too much of the wolfsblood in you, but I'll always be proud of you."
Jon's bitterness waned and he felt some pride deep inside him. His resolve softened and he stood up nodding, "You're right. Thank you, Lord Stark, I promise you I won't let you down.