Sorry for the wait, I honestly didn't expect it to take eight months to write this.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Game of Thrones.

Time in Winterfell seemed to move slower than anywhere else in the world for the Stark family and the people who loved them. They had nearly lost Bran more times than any of them would have liked, but the boy survived. Unfortunately, he had been unconscious through it all, showing no signs of waking up. Catelyn refused to leave his side and only left when Ned had to force her out when Luwin needed her to leave.

The entire royal family offered their sympathies to the family. All of them except for Prince Joffrey who did not even have the courtesy to look sympathetic. Quite frankly, Jon had just about enough of the spoiled brat ever since the welcoming feast ended. At every moment when their fathers and his mother were not around, Joffrey would strut around Winterfell as if he was its rightful owner. Crown Prince or no, the boy was arrogant. This was especially clear when he demanded to spar against Robb with live steel instead of their training swords. No one was willing to give into his demands for various reasons.

Ser Rodrick, being the Master-at-Arms of Winterfell, refused out of the safety of his students, and the prince. He made it abundantly clear that no title thrown in his face would have changed his mind. Robb refused, a bit more delicately, because he knew he would win and refused to intentionally lose a match simply because someone had a higher position than he did; something Jon had to do for years.

Ever since they were nine, Jon had been a better fighter than his half-brother. Since he would not inherit Winterfell, or any castle for that matter, Jon had less studies than Robb and had more time to practice his swordplay, archery, ridding and all the other things he would do with his brother. When they were younger, Robb would always win when they spared. Probably because of his Tully genes, or because of whatever Jon inherited from his mother, Robb was naturally broader and stronger. Jon, on the other hand, was built like their father; slightly smaller, but stronger than most and faster. While Robb opted for strength and offense when they spared, Jon was more patient and quicker, only striking when the chance to counter was available letting his opponents tire themselves out. Robb wanted to fight like this so that when he inherited Ice, the long, Valyrian broadsword, he'd be proficient in using it in battle. Jon, however, found that, ironically, he was better suited for wielding a bastard sword.

In any case, the reason why Jon had to let his brother win was a result of one of the many instances of his childhood when he was reminded of his bastard status. When they were children, Jon had gotten fed up with losing so much, he decided to become better than the heir to Winterfell. So, one day, when Robb was especially cocky, something that came with being the undefeated firstborn, Jon put an end to it.

As they carefully stepped around in the ring, while Catelyn was watching from the balcony as she was taking a walk with Sansa and Arya, and Ned from the ground as he was discussing matters with Luwin, the two boys swung their swords. At first, it seemed like Robb was going to win, but ever eager to prove himself just as good as his brother, Jon turned the tides. Instead of using the move he normally used when they would lock blades, Jon rolled the sword to where he had it against his arm and blocked Robb's strike. Since this was new, Robb was caught off guard and was stunned in surprise. Taking the opportunity, Jon shrugged him off, rolled back his sword, knocked Robb's out his hands, and had the heir on his back with his training sword pointed at his chest.

Feeling proud for what he had done, Jon looked up at his teacher with a smile on his face, hoping to see a look of pride from Ser Rodrick. Unfortunately, all he received was a blank stare and a shake of the head from the knight. It was then that Jon realized how quiet the yard had become. He looked around and noticed everyone outside silently staring at him, instead of cheering for him like they always did for Robb. No matter how impressive the boy's skills were, he had made a terrible mistake. He realized this as soon as Catelyn stormed over pushed him to the ground.

Jon could not comprehend what he had done wrong as he laid in the mud. All he could do was look around in confusion as Catelyn fussed over her son. Not that Robb was hurt, but her next actions made it seem like the bastard had gravely wounded her precious boy. Grabbing him by his curly hair, Catelyn pulled Jon up and began slapping the poor boy's face until it was redder than her own hair. Rodrick had finally stepped in to act and tried to separate the two while Catelyn was shouting at him.

"How dare you do that to my son, you filthy bastard!" she cried as she beat him and pulled out strands of his hair, "He is the heir of Winterfell! How dare you shame your better?!"

Since that day, Jon Snow had realized no matter how hard he worked, no matter what accomplishments he made, he would always be seen as a bastard. So, even though he maintained his training, and was still better than Robb, he always allowed the heir of Winterfell to win. Unfortunately, that was just one of the aspects of Robb Stark's upbringing that made him occasionally arrogant.

But in any event, House Stark and all who loved the noble family were heartbroken at Bran's condition. Catelyn was rarely seen outside her son's room and had begun to craft a prayer wheel for his recovery. Ned understood her concerns and allowed her to stay by his side, however, he was concerned for her own health. He knew how obsessive his wife could get and he was concerned for how she would be after he left for Kings Landing.

Robb tried to keep himself busy by keeping up with what he would need to take care of as the acting Lord of Winterfell once Ned was gone with his sisters. It helped take his mind off his brother, but he was secretly nervous about filling in for his father. But Theon helped him in certain matters and worked to make things a bit easier for his friend. Sansa had worried as much as her mother did, at first. But as soon as she was told Bran would survive, she went back to sucking up to Joffrey and doing her best to impress him. Arya was a mess at the beginning, but eventually calmed down after Ned repeatedly assured her it would be alright. Thankfully, she behaved from that point and did her best not to cause any trouble. As for Rickon, the only thing the youngest Stark could do to cheer himself up was play with Shaggydog.

As for Jon, he took his anger and grief out on every training dummy he had not already destroyed. Everyone but Ned, Benjen, Robb and Arya kept their distance from the brooding bastard since that day. Not for the usual reasons, but out of fear. Ever since Bran fell, Jon Snow looked as though he was going to rip out the throat of anyone who locked eyes with him; just as a Direwolf would. Only his father, uncle, brothers and sisters were spared this look, however, only the four previously mentioned dared to approach him.

He was outraged that something so horrible happened to his brother. All the dreams and activities he wanted to accomplish could never come true now that he was crippled. It infuriated Jon that his brother's life was now as broken as his spine; and more so that there was no one to actually blame and unleash his rage on.

He would never forget that morning. He refused to leave Bran's side until Maester Luwin came to save him. When he shouted at Theon, he inadvertently drew everyone outside to them. He eventually heard people mutter how he was like a snarling wolf when he shouted at them all to back away. Only Summer and Ghost managed to get close enough. Summer licked his master's face in desperation that it would help as he whimpered. Ghost, on the other hand did something Jon did not take note of until he finally calmed down.

Instead of whimpering and licking the boy as his brother did, the albino Direwolf sniffed Bran's clothes, specifically leather jerkin where Jamie had grabbed and pushed him. Since Bran was notorious for climbing the structures of Winterfell, even in the worst conditions, and safely coming down each time, everyone was surprised to find out he had fallen. Jon, however, was not convinced.

So, one day when he knew no one would be looking for him, the young bastard took his Direwolf with him to inspect the Broken Tower. Remembering exactly when the boy fell, Jon began at that spot. He was able to quickly figure out the path Bran made for himself when he climbed and spotted the hole at the top. Clearly, that would have been at least one spot Bran would have gone to.

"There's not much room left for him that he would have climbed. He would have at least stopped there before he kept going." Jon thought. Having explored the tower with Robb as children, he knew exactly what was up there and the tower's condition. "Ghost, with me."

Reaching the top of the tower where the hole was, Jon and Ghost searched the floor. While Jon inspected the outer wall of the tower in case a brick broke causing Bran to fall, Ghost sniffed about the floor. There was one spot that had a distinct smell that reminded the albino of Theon after he visited Wintertown's brothel. Lightly woofing at his human, Ghost alerted Jon to come to him.

"What is it, Ghost?" he rhetorically asked. In response, Ghost sniffed the floor again and pawed at it. Taking a closer look, Jon could see stains of the juices the queen made, courtesy of her brother. In addition, he found the unmistakable golden hair of house Lannister near the stains.

"How many people in this keep do you think has hair like this?" he asked the silent wolf before holding the hair up to his nose, "Ghost, smell."

Obeying the order, Ghost sniffed the strand of hair and committed it to memory as though he was about to begin their hunt.

"Now, seek." Jon ordered.

Sticking close to his companion, Jon followed the wolf outside and back to the keep. It did not take long for Ghost to lead his human to one of the culprits. Standing outside the sept Ned had built for Catelyn when they were married, Queen Cersei watched her daughter and youngest son play together. While Jon had already suspected the golden haired queen, he hoped it would have been someone easier to retaliate against. Unfortunately, Ghost's subtle growling in her direction only confirmed this.

"Settle." Jon softly commanded before thinking over what to do next. However, it was too late when Cersei and her guards strolled up to him.

"You." she said in her regal, queenly voice, "You're Ned Stark's bastard, yes?"

"…Yes, My Queen." Jon replied with a bow, "I am Jon Snow."

"Ah, yes. I remember first hearing about you. It was quite the little scandal after my husband's rebellion. How the honorable Lord Eddard Stark returned from Dorne with his sister's bones and his bastard babe." she said with condescending, fake smile, "Shouldn't it be Jon Sand, then?"

"I would not know, Your Grace. You would have to ask Lord Stark." Jon stiffly replied.

"Yes, I suppose so. But what brings the Bastard of Winterfell and his…pet to Winterfell's sept? Come to pray for your half-brother?"

"He's not a pet." Jon thought in irritation before speaking.

"Just making sure he gets his exercise." Jon replied with a fake smile of his own, "And, no, Your Grace. I follow the Old Gods. A bastard such as myself should not dishonor such a holy place as this."

He was lying, of course. Jon hated that religion more than anything else in the world since it was because of those seven gods he was treated like shit his entire life by those who worshiped them. But he had learned how to play the part of a spineless bastard in front of those "above" him.

"With that in mind, I bid you a good day, Your Grace." Jon bowed before leaving. Once they were out of the sept's area, Ghost craned his neck to look up at Jon almost dryly.

"Don't give me that look. She would have had both our heads if I offended her." Jon remarked to the wolf.

Instead of further arguing with his companion, Jon decided now was the time to bring this news to his father before he rode south. Even though he was wanting to run to the solar, Jon kept his composure and walked to the chamber he knew his father would be in. However, when he arrived, he saw Jamie and Meryn Trant, another Kingsguard, standing outside the door. Obviously, this meant the king was inside with his father. As soon as the pair saw the two knights, Ghost began to snarl again like he did at Cersei. Only this time, it was towards Jamie.

"Him, too?" Jon thought as he settled the wolf before thinking the worst, "Oh, gods!"

"What do you want, bastard?" Trant snapped.

"Nothing that concerns you." Jon coldly replied.

"Careful, boy." Jamie warned with an arrogant smirk, "Ser Meryn may not be a popular knight, but he is a knight nonetheless."

"Forgive me, Ser. We don't really have knights up here. I guess it just doesn't make much sense to me why I should show someone who wears wasted gold as armor any respect." Jon retorted.

"Why you insolent-" Meryn snarled before the door open and the king walked out.

"What's this about?" Robert asked gruffly.

"Nothing, Your Grace." Jamie replied.

"Hmm." the fat drunk mused before letting it go. As he walked down the hall, he gave Jon a nod and patted his shoulder in sympathy. After they left, Jon finally went in to find his father at his desk.

"Jon." Ned said with a small smile, "What brings you here, son?"

"Father, I-" Jon began before opening the door to make sure no one was outside eavesdropping. Once it was safe, he continued.

"Father, I think I know what made Bran fall from that tower." he said in a lowered tone.

"What do you mean?" Ned asked.

"Father, you know as well as I, and everyone else in Winterfell, that Bran has climbed that tower over a dozen times. Even when it was raining or snowing, he never fell once. Don't you find it strange that he fell on a clear day when it hadn't rained in weeks?"

"What are you implying, Jon?" Ned asked.

"I think…I think Bran was pushed from that tower…by the Kingslayer and the queen." Jon softly said.

"…That is a serious accusation. What makes you believe this?" Ned asked.

"Earlier, before I came here, I took Ghost with me to search the tower. I saw stains on the floor like you would see in a brothel and golden hair near it. I thought it was just the queen, especially when Ghost growled in her direction when I told him to seek. But before I came in here, he did the same to the Kingslayer. And-and he even smelled Bran's jerkin until Maester Luwin and Hodor got him-"

"Stop." Ned interrupted, "Even if what you claim is true, do you understand the danger you'd be putting not only yourself, but the rest of our family in? If I understand what you are getting at, you are claiming that the queen is having an affair with her twin brother; her own husband's Kingsguard."

"They crippled Bran!" Jon seethed while keeping his voice down, "I know it was them."

"Because your wolf snarled at them after smelling old hair and supposed dried juices on the floor of the Broken Tower?" Ned shot back before taking a deep breath, "I'm not saying you are lying or a fool. But you don't understand the consequences of this accusation. Whether it is true, or not, and Robert believed it, we would still be accusing the children of Tywin Lannister, thus destroying his hold on the Iron Throne. You don't know these people like I do; what they are capable of."

"So we should just do nothing and let them get away with this?!" Jon snapped, "You'll go down to Kings Landing, become their neighbors and just hope for the best Sansa or Arya don't catch them in the same position and kill them or cripple them like Bran?"

"I gave my word to the king, Jon. If I were to retract it now, suspicions would arise and we could face war with the Lannisters."

"I'd welcome it." Jon declared in anger, causing his father to scoff and chuckle.

"Would you?" Ned asked without humor, "What do you know of war, boy? What do you know of taking the lives of men who had no say in fighting on the battlefield? Staining your hands with their blood and seeing their faces every night for the rest of your life? Watching your friends bleed out and die as they shit themselves? Knowing they will never return to their families because they died for you and your cause. You would welcome war? You don't even know what war is."

"Father-"

"That being said, I still intend to be Robert's Hand. With that position, I will be able to do more than I would as just Warden of the North." Ned added.

"So you'll look into this?" Jon asked.

"Yes, because I already had my reasons for distrusting the Lannisters. Just keep your mouth shut, eh?" Ned asked with a stern look before looking back down at his documents. However, he realized that Jon had not yet left, "Was there something else?"

"Yes, there was." Jon nodded a bit less confidently, "Father, I don't trust the Lannisters. Even before this morning. I-I…I don't like the idea of Sansa and Arya being surrounded by the Lannisters so far south."

"Oh, Jon, they'll be protected and guarded by plenty of Stark men." Ned assured.

"I know, but…I," Jon sighed, "I don't want to risk it. It's bad enough what happened to Bran. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to the girls while I was up here living in comfort with Robb and the boys."

"What are you asking me, Jon?" Ned asked.

"Let me come with you." Jon finally said, "I could be Sansa and Arya's personal guard. Keep them safe."

"What about your brothers?" Ned asked.

"Robb will still be here." he argued, "Please, Father."

"…I will think about it." Ned replied, "I will speak with you later when I have made my decision."

Silently complying, Jon nodded and left the solar with Ghost quietly following him. Ned could not help but groan in frustration as the familiar voice rang through his mind.

"Promise me, Ned."

"Oh, gods, why are you tormenting me?" he asked himself. Feeling the need to talk with the one person he had trusted in telling his secret, Ned asked his younger brother to meet with him in their family's crypts.

"He wants to go south to the capital." Ned said with dread to Benjen as they walked past their ancestors' graves, "Of all the places in this damn country, he wants to go to the fucking capital, Ben."

"Could be worse." Benjen remarked.

"How?" Ned snapped.

"He could've wanted to go to Sunspear and meets the Martel princes." Benjen smirked.

"Ben, this is serious." Ned glared.

"I don't know why you're getting so worked up. You said it yourself, Robert doesn't remember what Lya looked like. The boy doesn't even look like Rhaegar. Robert probably doesn't even remember what Rhaegar looked like aside from when he caved in the man's chest; and they were cousins who grew up together in the Red Keep. He only sees you in him, Ned." Benjen pointed out.

"Robert's a drunken fool who still sees himself as he was when he killed Rhaegar at the Trident." Ned retorted, "He may not see the resemblance between Jon and Rhaegar, but that doesn't mean there aren't people in that shit smelling city that won't, either. Namely Grand Maester Pycelle or Lord Varys. The only two members of Robert's council who served on the Mad King's council when Rhaegar filled in for his father."

"Barristan Selmy couldn't see the resemblance," Benjen reminded, "And he was almost as close to the prince as Ser Arthur Dayne was."

"I will not risk it. He's staying here." Ned firmly denied.

"Ned, you can't expect the boy to remain locked in this keep for the rest of his life like a prisoner. Seven Hells, the Greyjoy brat gets out more than Jon and he's your hostage. He's practically a man and all he's ever known is Winterfell, Wintertown and the road between here and to the execution grounds. If you keep him here he will never grow into what he can be."

"And it is precisely for that reason why he's not going." Ned repeated.

"You would deny him out of fear for what you think he could become?" Benjen snapped, "You honestly think he'll turn out like Areys if he sets foot in that city, or so much as looks at that damn chair?"

"Do not lecture me about the Iron Throne, little brother." Ned glared, "You've never even seen the damn thing. You don't know what it does to people. Call it what you will, but there is a curse, or a sickness on that throne. It corrupts and twists the minds of all who desire it and drives them mad."

"You don't know that he wants it, Ned." Benjen stressed, "All he wants is to protect his sisters from the snakes, and lions, that fill that putrid city. You've raised him as a bastard of House Stark, not a prince of House Targaryen."

"And what if being in that city is what finally awakens his sire's blood?" Ned asked. He refused to even think of calling Rhaegar Jon's father. He was that boy's father, no one else. "What if simply being in the presence of that damn chair awakens his Valyrian blood? Have you forgotten what happened when that fever nearly took him?"

"I will never forget, brother." Benjen growled like the wolf he was, "I understand your concerns. Truly, I do. But if you continue to live in fear of losing that boy, one day soon, your fears will finally come true."

"…He is my son. I will not lose him to that damn city like we lost our family. I promised our sister that I would keep him safe. It's bad enough what I've let Cat do to him throughout his life. I will never forgive myself for allowing him to suffer such torment."

"Nor will I." Benjen coldly stated before looking at the statue that failed to capture their sister's beauty. They both loved their sister, and loved her son as if he were their own. Each brother believed what they were doing was for the sake of the only connection they had left to her.

"What about this instead?" Benjen began to offer, "Heed his wishes and let him come with you. If you think, truly think because of evidence and not just your own paranoia, that someone sees Rhaegar in him, or that he is on the verge of being corrupted by the throne, send him back. That way, he'll be able to be there for his sisters and you can make sure his coin is not going to land on the same side as his grandfather's; or worse."

"…Very well." Ned relented.

"I think you and the rest of the world has forgotten that not every Targaryen is a madman, brother." Benjen remarked as they made their way to the exit.

"Heh, tell that to the king whose grandmother was a Targaryen. That should help calm him down if we get caught." Ned scoffed with his grim, Stark humor.

"You mean if you get caught." Benjen mocked with the playful, ornery grin of a younger brother, "I've got immunity thanks to this cloak of mine."

"Ah, yes. One of the many perks of being a celibate brother of the order of frozen testicles." Ned retorted as they left the crypt, "While those south of the Wall lose their heads to the sword, you lot lose your limbs and balls to the cold."

Later that day, Ned called for Jon to meet with him in his solar to discuss the conditions of his role in the capital. Even though Ned was entirely against it, his brother's words had persuaded him to at least give his son a chance. Plus, there was a little voice in the back of his mind telling him that considering everything else he had cheated Jon out of, he at least owed his boy this one request.

"I have considered your request and have made my decision." he said to his son, "I will allow you to act as Sansa and Arya's guard during my time as Hand of the King. You will alternate between guarding your sisters when they are separated. You will also be acting as a vassal of House Stark and shall represent us. So, you will be on your best behavior. Jory shall be accompanying us and will act as head of my guards. Therefore, you answer to him like you would me. He's your commander now."

"I understand. Thank you, Father." Jon said sincerely.

"There's more." Ned continued, "As bodyguard to the Hand's daughters, you will have to train twice as hard, possibly with less time than you are accustomed to. I'll make sure you have periods of rest, but your duties will require more work and time from you than ever. So, I better not see any slacking or decline in your training."

"You won't. You have my word." Jon nodded eagerly.

"Good." Ned nodded with a small smile at the sight of his, typically, brooding son happy, "We leave in five days. Spend it with your brothers."

Just as Ned said, in five days, all of the guests of Winterfell were putting the final touches on their departure for Kings Landing. As they did, Ned spent his time with the sons he would be leaving behind. He bonded with Robb as he helped prepare his firstborn for his duties as Lord of Winterfell. There were also small things he included to remind his son how proud he was and how much he loved Robb. Despite the brave face he was putting on, Robb was nervous and sad that his father was leaving.

Bran was still in his coma, much to Ned's sadness. He wanted to stay until the boy woke up, but Luwin could not tell when that would be. So, even though he couldn't interact with Bran like he wanted, Ned still found a way. When Catelyn allowed him moments alone, typically at night, Ned would speak and sing to his boy in the tongue of the First Men, hoping the language of their ancestors might help in some way. He would tell Bran stories about the First Men, his childhood in Winterfell and the Eyrie, the family members Bran never got to meet. Then he would sing songs Nan taught him as a boy in their ancient tongue. About the Long Night and its horrors. But, he would also sing epic tales his mother and father taught him and his siblings about the Old Gods, the heroes of the north and House Stark. It wasn't much, but he poured his heart into those stories and songs.

As for Rickon, who was too young to do most of the things his brothers could do, Ned simply played with him, listened to his youngest babble about his wolf and their adventures, his dreams he had the nights before, and many other things. Ned also tried to teach the youngest Stark about the ways of the north as much as he could before he left. Since Rickon was so young and often daydreamed during his lessons, he was not as fluent in the Old Tongue as his siblings were. So, Ned would incorporate as many words as he could whenever they were together.

Jon mostly did the same with his younger brothers whenever he could. However, as Arya and Sansa's bodyguard, he had to be educated on certain rules regarding the south and the capital. Also, he had to be fitted for the standard bannermen's armor of House Stark. Much to his relief, he was not required to wear the ball-shaped helm that came with it. Though, he would have preferred different colors than the set's brown and green. But he didn't care, he was still going south to protect his sisters and finally getting away from their horrid mother.

Catelyn had been furious when Ned told her about Jon's role. At first, she had been delighted when she heard her husband say that Jon was leaving. However, as soon as he explained what he would be doing, she looked so disgusted that she was about to vomit. The thought of her only precious daughters constantly being watched by that dreadful bastard made her sick to her stomach. As Ned expected, she ranted about how Jon was going to defile the girls or seduce them into helping him take Winterfell from Robb and the rest of them.

Ironically, somehow in her ranting she brought up how the Mad King was known to rape his sister-wife during their marriage and accused Jon of potentially doing the same thing. Since Ned absolutely hated the Mad King, and the thought of Jon turning out like his grandfather even more, that argument spiraled into one of the few moments in their marriage where Ned actually shouted at his wife in defense of his bastard son.

"Be silent, woman, or I will silence you myself!" he snarled that night. It was times like that that made Ned's title as the Quiet Wolf sound ironic.

Ned had only done that to Catelyn a few times in their marriage. When she first felt brave enough to demand him to get rid of Jon when he was a baby, when Jon defeated Robb in their training, and shortly after Robert left Winterfell the first time, regarding how she treated Jon while he was away. Catelyn never apologized in any of those instances, and it may have made her hate Jon even more each time. It was in those moments of anger and resentment that made Ned think of that beautiful, violet-eyed Dornish woman he danced with and fell in love with at Harrenhall. Had he married her like he wanted, maybe she could have been the mother Jon needed. But then again, had his older brother not rode to the Red Keep and demanded the Silver Prince's head, a great many things could have turned out differently.

Since that night, Ned had avoided Catelyn. Normally, Sansa would have felt the same way as her mother, but she was too preoccupied in her daydreams about marrying Prince Joffrey to care, or even realize what was happening. Arya, on the other hand, was ecstatic that her favorite brother was coming with her. She considered it to be the only good thing coming out of this whole arrangement the king made with her father.

As for Robb, he was upset with the sudden decision his half-brother made. He had always wanted, and assumed, Jon would stay with him in Winterfell and rule at his side. Despite their difference in mothers, and technically fathers, Robb felt like Jon was practically his twin. He believed in his brother because his brother believed in him and that was something he felt like he always needed; now more than ever. But his brother was not the sibling Jon had on his mind.

Since all his things were packed and ready, Jon was taking care of some last minute business for his other siblings before he left. Standing before Winterfell's blacksmith's forge, Jon watched the smith put the final touches on a very special sword he had made. That is until a smooth voice came up from behind.

"A sword for the capital?"

Jon turned around and saw the Kingslayer out of his armor analyzing him.

"I already have one." Jon replied as he nodded at the sword he was wearing.

"Good man. Have you swung it yet?" Jamie asked.

"Of course I have." Jon replied slightly defensive at the man he believed crippled his brother.

"At someone, I mean." Jamie clarified getting silence as his answer, "Strange thing, first time you cut a man. You realize we're nothing but sacks of meat, blood and some bones to keep it all standing. It's a brave thing you're doing; going south to protect your sisters. But protect them from what, I wonder?"

"Starks don't do well in the south." Jon coldly replied.

"Ah, yes. Your uncle and grandfather learned that the hard way." Jamie replied causing Jon to glare at him, "I remember that day as though it only just happened. How Rickard Stark burned away in Wildfire as his son strangled himself to death as he clawed at the ground to reach his sword. All anyone could hear was the sounds of the Warden of the North screaming in agony as the Mad King laughed like a giddy, young boy, clapping as the flames devoured the man. Good thing ol' Areys is dead now, eh? Be a shame that anyone suffer such a fate, let alone someone bearing the Starks' good name."

Leaving it at that hinted threat, the Golden Lion walked off with his usual, arrogant smirk. Trying to get his mind off the man, Jon turned back to the smith who was looking at him with a dry expression.

"Fucking southerners." the old smith spat before giving Jon the skinny sword he had crafted.

As Jon made his way into Arya's room, he saw her packing up her clothes in bundles. Judging by the sour look on her face, she would have done anything else at that moment. Her wolf Nymeria simply watched her human in curiosity as she packed.

"Septa Mordane said I have to pack all my clothes again. Says they're not properly folded. Who cares how they're folded?! They're gonna get all messed up anyway!" Arya pouted as her brother smirked at her.

"It's a good thing you've got help." he said.

"Watch. Nymeria, gloves." she commanded only for her wolf to look at her in confusion.

"Impressive." he joked.

"Shut up." Arya snapped, "Nymeria, gloves!"

"I have something for you." Jon said when he realized how long the routine could drag out, "It has to be packed very carefully."

"A present?" Arya asked with a childish glint in her eyes.

"Close the door." he said. Once she did, he unveiled the sword he just picked up and presented it to her, "This is no toy. Be careful you don't cut yourself."

"It's so skinny!" Arya said happily.

"So are you." he smiled, "I had the blacksmith make it special for you. It won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're quick enough."

"I can be quick." she promised.

"You'll have to work it every day. How's it feel? Do you like the balance?"

"I think so." she said before he kneeled to her eye level.

"First lesson: stick 'em with the pointy end." he informed.

"I know which end to use." she pouted, causing him to chuckle fondly.

"We're going to a dangerous place, little sister. You need to know how to protect yourself when I can't. Lesson number two: everything is a weapon. Especially this." Jon said as he tapped his sister's head, "This is the most important weapon of them all. Hone it like you would a sword and you will never be beaten."

Nodding her head, Arya took her big brother's words to heart and committed them to memory. In thanks, she was about to jump up and hug, only for him to stop her and remind her she was still holding the sword. After gently setting it aside, she jumped up and wrapped her arms around her favorite brother's neck, feeling his love as they squeezed each other tightly.

"All the best swords have names, you know." he said.

"…Sansa can keep her sewing needles. I've got a needle of my own." she said causing Jon to chuckle again.

"You better get finished packing. We'll be leaving soon. Don't forget to say goodbye to Bran." he reminded before setting her down and leaving to do exactly that.

When Jon arrived in Bran's room, Catelyn had been in the process of making a doll to represent one of her seven gods for the Prayer Wheel she was making for her son. Neither of them wanted to be near each other, but both were in that room for Bran. When she glared at Jon, he just glared right back.

"I've come to say goodbye to Bran." he flatly said to the spiteful woman.

"You've said it." she spat as she avoided eye contact and continued to make her wheel. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction of obeying her, Jon kneeled on the opposite side of Bran's bed she was sitting next to.

"I wish I could be here when you wake up. I'm going south with our father and sisters. I'll watch over them and keep them safe, like Robb will do for you and Rickon. I know you always wanted to become a knight and join the Kingsguard, but I'll put in a good word for you with the Lord Commander once we reach the Red Keep. You can come and visit us and train with him once you're better. I'll know my way around the city by then. We can see the Dragon Pit and look for dragon bones, together."

As he was speaking, Jon could feel the piercing glare of the woman across from him. With tears in her eyes, Catelyn glared at her husband's bastard with all the hate she had in her body.

"I want you to leave." she seethed in hatred.

In one last act of defiance, Jon glared back at her and pressed a kiss on Bran's forehead. Wanting to leave it at that, Jon made his way to the door. That is until Catelyn spoke to him for what they both thought, and hoped, would be the last time.

"Jon?" she said to him. Never before could he think of any moment in his life when Catelyn called the boy just Jon. It was always Snow, Bastard, or Jon Snow. Never just Jon. Maybe, he thought, she was willing to offer some kind words to him for once. That the tragedy of her son's fall was going to bring her to offer the boy she had abused some compassion.

"My lady?" he asked as he turned back to face her, just as Ned had entered the doorway to say goodbye.

"It should have been you." Catelyn spat as her tears slipped down her face.

Even though Jon had never felt any form of attachment to the mother of his half-siblings, hearing the woman say he should have been the one to nearly die and become crippled like Bran was the cruelest thing Catelyn Stark, formally of House Tully, had ever said to him. If anyone had asked him what he felt when he heard those words, he would say that it was like a punch to the heart; although, he could never understand why.

It left him speechless, and he couldn't stand to be in the room any longer. So, the Bastard of Winterfell brushed past his father and left to finish his preparations. It was a shock to Ned to hear his wife say such a horrible thing. But he knew she was distraught and chose to excuse her for speaking to his son that way because of it. Wanting to leave on good terms with his wife, Ned approached her to bid her farewell.

"Seventeen years ago, you rode off with Robert Baratheon. You came back a year later with another woman's son. And now you're leaving again." Catelyn bitterly choked.

"I have no choice." Ned defended.

"That's what men always say when honor calls. That's what you tell your families. Tell yourselves. Brandon said it to me when he rode south to demand Rhaegar return your sister. You said it when you rode off to fight those damned rebellions. You do have a choice, and you've made it." Catelyn choked as she cried.

"Cat," Ned said gently as he tried to hold her hand, only to watch her yank it away.

"I can't do it, Ned. I really can't!" she argued through her sniffles.

"You can. You must." he said before leaving her and their boy.

Outside, after changing into his cloak and new armor, Jon grabbed his saddle and made his way to his horse. As he did, Robb strode over to join him.

"Have you said goodbye to Bran?" Robb asked as his brother nodded, "He's not going to die. I know it. I wish you would stay to see him wake."

"You Starks are hard to kill north of the neck. That's why I'm going." Jon reminded.

"My mother?" Robb asked already having an idea of what happened.

"She was very kind." Jon automatically lied.

"Never thought the day would come where I would see you in Stark colors. Always thought you'd be all in black instead of green and brown." Robb jested.

"Oh, don't rub it. I feel ridiculous enough as it is, wearing these bright colors." Jon retorted as they laughed.

"Just don't go wearing any gold armor with a white cloak." Robb laughed before dropping his smile.

"There is one thing I have to ask of you." Jon said in a serious tone.

"Name it." Robb said. Turning his head, his brother nodded towards his albino companion silently waiting for his human to join him.

"Look after him while I'm gone." Jon pleaded.

"You're not taking him with you?" Robb asked.

"The south is no place for a direwolf. Plus, anything I do that offends the Lannisters, or anyone in that city, he'll be the one who gets punished first. I won't let some perfumed, southern shit use him for a pelt because of something I did."

"Sounds like you're planning on doing something that would cause that." Robb noted.

"Let's just say I'm prepared to do what I must to protect our family, and leave it at that."

"Hmm. You have my word. No one will touch him. I'll keep him safe from my mother." Robb said know Catelyn was the only real threat to Ghost in Winterfell, "Farewell, Snow."

"And you, Stark." Jon said back before Robb pulled his closest and oldest friend and confidant in for a tight hug.

"Takkarer, minn bróðir." Robb said in the Old Tongue as they hugged.

"Ok þú, bróðir" Jon said back. After saddling his horse, Jon made his way over to his wolf to say goodbye.

"Robb will look after you while I'm gone." he said as he kneeled before the albino, "He'll keep Lady Stark from trying anything. I want to take you with me, but you deserve better than some crowded, hot city in the south. I'll miss you, boy."

Even while remaining silent like the grave, Ghost looked at his human with the closest thing to a sad expression the direwolf could give. To cheer him up, Jon stroked Ghost behind the ear and traveled down to under his jaw, just like the wolf enjoyed. As he did, Ghost licked Jon's forearm before nudging his nose against his face and licking his whisker covered face.

"Yeah, I love you, too." Jon grumbled with a small smirk before affectionately ruffling Ghost's head.

After following his fellow Northmen out of the only home he had ever known, Jon looked out at the open country, slightly nervous. The only time in his life he had ever been south was when he was a baby being brought north with his father after the rebellion. Even though he was, technically, born in the south, he was a Northman in every respect. Leaving his chilly homeland just seemed wrong to him. As he brooded over these thoughts following behind his father's horse, his Uncle Benjen rode up to join them when they reached the checkpoint of the Kingsroad.

"Sure you don't want to ride off with me instead of that old man?" Benjen asked his nephew with a smirk.

"Careful, First Ranger. You're still on my land." Ned retorted with a smirk of his own.

"Then may I ask the Hand of the King and Warden of the North to allow his retainer a moment with his favorite uncle?" he asked.

"Hmph. Go on, then." Ned said with a small smile and nod at his son before riding ahead.

"I remember the day your father brought you here like it was yesterday." Benjen said in nostalgia as he gazed out at his former home, "The second he dismounted his horse, he rushed over to take you in his arms from your wet nurse. The newest member of the pack. You and your brother, the beginning of the new generation of Starks. You may not have our name, but you are a Stark."

"Thank you, Uncle." Jon said, trying to hide his blush. He knew his uncle would always see him as a Stark, but it still embarrassed Jon to hear such praises in public.

"You're a good lad, Jon. Take care of yourself, and our family down there." Benjen said with a nod before turning his horse north to join Tyrion and his retainers.

"Uncle," Jon said, looking nervous, "Do…do you know if my mother is alive? Does she know about me? Where I am? Where I'm going? Does she care?"

For a moment, Benjen hesitated as the ocean of fond memories he had with Jon's mother flooded his mind. Like Ned, any thought about Lyanna brought joy and sadness like no other to his heart; more-so for Benjen since he spent more time with her than either of their brothers. Her smile was always a treasured memory, and it hurt him how rarely her own son would display that same smile. He knew he could not tell Jon the truth, because of his vow to Ned, and because they were too close to so many people who would not hesitate to kill the boy and bring his head to Robert. But, for the love Benjen Stark had for his sister, and the love he had for her son, he would not deny Jon what he was about to say.

"Wherever your mother is, Jon, I know she is proud of you. And that she loves you with every fiber of her soul." Benjen said with a sad smile before kicking his horse and heading back to the Wall.

Later on, after the king and his family led the way out of Winterfell, traveling for miles through the open range of the North, the king decided to stop to stretch his legs, eat and relieve his bladder on the nearest tree. Wanting to spend time with his best friend, he called for his new Hand to join him.

"Gods, this is country!" Robert bellowed happily as he took in the sight of the open wild they were camped at, "I've half a mind to leave them all behind and keep going."

"I've half a mind to go with you." Ned added.

"What do you say, just you and me on the Kingsroad, swords at our sides, a couple of tavern wenches to warm our beds tonight?" Robert suggested with a grin.

"You should have asked me twenty years ago." Ned scoffed with a smirk as he soaked in the sun and breeze.

"There were wars to fight, women to marry. We never had the chance to be young." Robert reminded.

"I recall a few chances." Ned smirked causing Robert to burst laughing.

"There was that one, oh, what was her name? That common girl of yours. Becca with the great big tits you could burry your face in." Robert recalled.

"Bessie. And she was one of yours." Ned corrected.

"Bessie! Thank the gods for Bessie. And her tits." Robert laughed, "Yours was, er, Aleena? No, no, you told me once. Meryl? Your bastard's mother? She must have been a rare woman to make Lord Eddard Stark forget his honor. You never talk about her."

"Nor will I." Ned stiffly replied as the face of his sister on her deathbed/birthing bed entered his mind again.

"We were at war." Robert reminded with sympathy for his friend, "None of us knew if we were gonna make it back home again. You're too hard on yourself. You always have been. Who was it? The only one that comes to mind is…oh. Oh, Ned. It wasn't the Dayne girl was it?"

Ned said nothing. Although, the memories he had of that beautiful woman he once danced with brought almost as much pain as the memories of his sister did. He never wanted to talk about either woman with anyone, especially Robert, so he just sat in silence as he stared at the hills.

"I know you don't like to talk about her, so I'll leave it be." Robert relented, "I didn't see much of her at Harrenhall, but she was a beauty. It's a shame her brother stayed loyal to the Mad King. There'll never be another Sword of the Morning like Ser Arthur Dayne."

"Consider yourself lucky he wasn't on the Trident. Or else you never would have lived long enough to be called its demon." Ned chuckled.

"Aye, on that, I don't deny." he laughed, "But he was no match for the ferocity of the Quiet Wolf. Eh? Gods, that must have been a hell of a fight!"

"It cost me six of the bravest men the North had known and robbed the world of the greatest fighter to ever wield Dawn. Not to mention what it did to his sister." Ned thought.

"Still though, if you hadn't fucked whoever it was you fucked, you'd have been the only one out of the three of us who got a perfect marriage from that rebellion." the fat king laughed.

"I don't regret what I did, Robert. Not for a moment." Ned snapped, dropping his joking mood, "I made my choices, and I stand by them. They gave me my son, and all my other children who came after."

"Meant no offense. I swear if I weren't your king, you'd have hit me already." Robert joked, trying to break the tension.

"The worst thing about your coronation: I'll never get to hit you again." Ned retorted with a small smirk.

"Trust me, that's not the worst thing. There was a rider in the night." Robert informed as he passed a letter to Ned.

"Daenerys Targaryen has wed some Dothraki horse lord. What of it?" Ned dismissed as he furled the paper and passed it back, "Should we send her a wedding gift?"

"A knife perhaps. A good sharp one and a bold man to wield it." Robert spat.

"She's little more than a child." Ned chastised.

"Soon enough that child will spread her legs and start breeding."

"Tell me we're not speaking of this."

"Oh, it's unspeakable to you?" Robert snapped, "What her father did to your family, that was unspeakable. What Rhaegar Targaryen did to your sister, the woman I loved, that was unspeakable."

"And yet you bring both up nearly every time you open your mouth to speak to me." Ned scoffed in his mind.

"I'll kill every Targaryen I get my hands on." Robert seethed.

"But you can't get your hands on this one, can you?" Ned countered.

"This Khal Drogo, it's said he has one-hundred-thousand men in his horde."

"Even a million Dothraki are no threat to the realm as long as they remain on the other side of the Narrow Sea. They have no ships, Robert."

"There are still those in the Seven Kingdoms who call me, 'Usurper.' If Viserys Targaryen crosses with a Dothraki horde at his back, the scum will join him."

"He will not cross. And if by chance he does, we'll throw him back into the sea." Ned replied, hoping it would put an end to the conversation. While he had no feelings towards or against the Targaryen children, Ned did not blame them for the crimes of their father. Nor could he think of their deaths being justified while he continued to look after their nephew as his own.

"…There's a war coming, Ned." Robert warned, "I don't know when, I don't know who we'll be fighting, but it's coming."

A few days after the king and his new Hand were had their discussion, the Stark, Baratheon and Lannister forces set up their camps near a small village in the Riverlands. Since they had to stop in that village before on the way to Winterfell, the villagers were prepared for the king's return and allowed the knights and soldiers to settle in. As they did, Sansa decided to take Lady for a walk near the inn she, her family, and the royal family were staying in. As she looked off to the side at a gaggle of southern ladies giggling and gossiping with each other, she bumped into a stoic, frighteningly ugly man scowling at her.

"Pardon me, Ser." she softly said only to see the man continue to glare and growl. As she took a step back, she gasped after bumping into the Hound, Sandor Clegane.

"Do I frighten you so much, girl? Or is it him, there, that's making you shake?" he asked jerking his head at the mute, "He frightens me, too. Look at that face."

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Ser." Sansa apologized. But the man simply growled before lurking away, "Why won't he speak to me?"

"He hasn't been very talkative these past twenty years. Since the Mad King had his tongue ripped out with hot pincers." Sandor replied just as Joffrey came over to join them.

"Speaks damn well with his sword though." the prince smirked at his betrothed, "Ser Illyan Payne; the King's Justice. The royal executioner. What is it, Sweetling? Does the Hound frighten you? Away with you, Dog! You're scaring my lady."

With a curt bow, the burnt man took his leave until he was called upon by his prince again; much to his utter displeasure.

"I don't like to see you upset. The sun's finally shining. Come walk with me." he said with a charming smirk.

"Stay, Lady." Sansa said to her pet before naively following her golden prince.

Not far away from encampment, over by a river Jon was doing his duty as his sisters' bodyguard as he watched Arya play with her new friend, Mycah, the butcher's son. Despite the fact she was still wearing her northern dress, Arya decided to do things her way, as always, and run around getting dirty and pretending to fight with swords. Jon didn't see the harm in it and actually saw it as a good way for his sister to begin her sword practice; and for him to see just how much work she was going to need.

"Move your feet!" he said past his smile as he watched his sister play with the plump redhead. It reminded him of when he use to spar with Robb when they were children. But, out of the corner of his eye, he could see his other sister with the prince, and a wineskin.

"I probably shouldn't have any more." he heard Sansa decline, "My father only lets us have one cup at feasts."

"My princess can drink as much as she wants." Joffrey smoothly assured as he offered her the wineskin.

"Oh, what are you doing, Sans?" Jon thought in discouragement towards his little sister. Even if she was a pain, and a near duplicate of her mother in looks and attitude, he still needed to protect his sister; even from herself.

"Arya!" Sansa scolded as they came over and spotted the spar. In surprise from her sister's voice, Arya was distracted just briefly enough for Mycah to accidently strike her hand with his stick.

"What are you doing here?" Arya snapped.

"Your Grace." Jon nodded, feeling the need to keep his guard up when he noticed Joffrey's hand resting on his sword's hilt.

"Go away!" Arya barked at them.

"Your sister?" he asked Sansa, "And the tall one is?"

"Our brother." Arya said with a sneer.

"Half-brother." Sansa corrected in spite.

"A bastard, then?" Joffrey arrogantly asked, "And who are you, boy?"

"Mycah, m'lord." Mycah nervously answered as he dropped his stick.

"He's the butcher's boy." Sansa sneered. Based on her footing, Jon could tell that she had one too many sips from the skin she was still clutching.

"He's my friend!" Arya defended.

"A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight?" Joffrey asked with a dangerous look in his eye, "And what are you doing here, bastard?

"Your Grace, I am the personal guard to the Hand of the King's daughters." Jon smoothly replied with a slight bow of his head.

"Is that so?" he asked, "And where were you when my betrothed was all alone, surrounded by armed and dangerous men?"

"Watching this one." Jon said, jerking his head at Arya. He knew that Joffrey was trying to come off as intimidating and dangerous, but frankly, he just looked a malicious little shit.

"And yet, you allowed this commoner to strike your charge's hand right in front of you." Joffrey challenged.

"We Northerners are tougher than most." Jon coolly replied.

"Hmm. Still, he struck a lady and that cannot go unpunished. Pick up your sword, butcher's boy, and let's see how good you are." Joffrey ordered Mycah as he drew his very much real, and sharp sword.

"She asked me to, m'lord. She asked me to." Mycah said in fear as Joffrey approached him.

"I am your prince. Not your lord." Joffrey sternly corrected, "And I said, pick up your sword."

"It's not a sword, my prince. It's only a stick."

"And you're not a knight. Only a butcher's boy." Joffrey coldly taunted as he pressed his blade against the boy's cheek, "That was my lady's sister you were hitting. Did you know that?"

"Stop it!" Arya shouted.

"Arya, stay out of this!" Sansa ordered, as though she had any authority over the wild girl.

"Jon, do something!" Arya pleaded to her conflicted brother.

"This isn't right." he bitterly thought as his hand hovered over his sword. It wasn't fear that made him hesitate. It was the simple fact that the sadistic little brat in front of him was the crown prince to all of Westeros. If he drew his sword at him, even if provoked, it would end in either his own death, or issues for his father and the rest of his family. He had to be patient, and play his cards right.

"I won't hurt him. Much." Joffrey said with sadistic glee before slowly cutting the boy's face. Having enough, Arya let out a roar and struck Joffrey's back with her stick, causing him to buckle his knees.

"Arya!" Sansa shouted in protest.

"Filthy, little bitch!" Joffrey snarled as he swung his sword at her while Mycah ran away.

"No! No, stop it! Stop it, both of you! You're spoiling it! You're spoiling everything!" Sansa shouted at her sister.

"I'll gut you, you little shit!" Joffrey snarled as he aimed his sword at her after she fell to the ground. As he raised his sword to kill the girl, his blade was halted by Jon's own sword.

When Joffrey looked up in fury to see who dared to stop him, he staggered in fear when he saw how cold and focused Jon's eyes were. In that moment, Jon struck the prince with a swing of the back of his hand, causing the prince to spin and fall. Surprisingly, Joffrey was quick to get back on his feet. Unsurprisingly, however, he just frantically swung his sword at Jon who smoothly dodged each swing. If Joffrey ever did receive any training, his teacher clearly never had the balls to correct the prince when he made a mistake.

"Jon, stop it!" Sansa wailed in a tantrum, "Oh, you stupid bastard! You're ruining everything!"

Despite every instinct and nerve in his body telling him to kill Joffrey, Jon knew how much trouble it would cause if he did. So, knowing fully well he was going to be severely punished no matter what happened, Jon decided to make quick work of things and end this one-sided fight.

With a few skillful parries, Jon locked his sword with Joffrey's, spun it three times and broke the prince's grip, disarming him and taking the sword into his free hand. In fear, Joffrey staggered back and fell flat on his back, cowering in fear at the man who now wielded two blades.

"No." he whimpered pathetically, "No! Please, don't!"

"Jon, leave him alone!" Sansa shouted.

"He tried to kill a member of the pack." a voice in the back of his head softly said, "He'll do it again. Kill him."

As a firm believer and admirer of poetic justice, Jon discarded his own sword and raised Joffrey's, ready to impale it through the brat's body and into the ground under him. His soul both cold and blazing at the same time, Jon was going to do it, and would have if not for the scared voice of his baby sister.

"Jon?" she softly asked, looking frightened. Arya Stark may not have been a weak girl like her sister, but this side of her beloved and favorite brother managed to scare her to her bones; especially when his gaze flashed towards her. It was that scared look on his sister's face that was able to calm Jon just enough to change his decision.

With a deep breath, Jon thrusted the steel blade down with all his might, causing Joffrey to cry out in fear of his life. However, instead of his heart or stomach, the weapon was deeply imbedded into the ground, right between Joffrey's legs and mere inches away from his crotch, now becoming soaked with his own, princely urine.

"Girls, we're going back to the inn." Jon ordered as he glared down his nose at the piss reeking teen.

"But, Jon-" Sansa whined.

"NOW!" he ferociously shouted, startling her to a stop.

After picking up and sheathing his sword, Jon stomped over to grab Sansa by the arm and drag her back with them. And for good measure, he knocked away the wineskin before anyone else saw the eldest daughter of the new Hand drinking as early as the king would. But, when their backs were turned, Joffrey seethed with anger as he intensely glared at Arya's back. In his anger, he ripped out his dagger from his belt and scrambled up to stab the young Stark to death. But, before he was even halfway there, Nymeria suddenly pounced from the bushes and latched her maw into his arm, causing him to scream out in pain.

"Arya!" Sansa shouted in horror.

"Nymeria!" Arya cried out as she tried to pull her companion off.

"Arya!" Sansa shouted even louder as her siblings pulled the Direwolf off. Once Nymeria released the arm, she and Arya ran off into the woods.

"Arya!" Jon shouted at her, "Fuck! Sansa, go back to the inn, now."

"But, my prince is-"

"Go back to the inn!" Jon shouted before running after their sister, "Arya, come back!"

"My prince," Sansa said as she crouched near the whimpering and bleeding Joffrey, "My poor prince. Look at what they've done to you. Stay here. I'll go back to the inn and bring help."

"Then go!" he snarled at her, "Don't touch me."

"Arya!" Jon called out as he searched the woods. If there was ever a moment he wanted to curse his sister's swiftness, it was then. He had been looking for almost an hour at this point and was beginning to worry. If it was not himself or their father's bannermen who found her, then it would be the Lannisters, and Jon would not allow the Lannisters to kill his sister like they did Rhaenys Targaryen.

"Arya!" he called out at the top of his lungs.

"There!" a man nearby shouted, "I found the bastard!"

"Seize him!" another shouted as Lannister soldiers began to surround him.

"Fuck." Jon quietly cursed as he raised his hands in surrender.

Soon enough, when neither his son nor his youngest daughter returned to the inn, Ned gathered his men to search for the two of them. They searched from dusk to the dead of night searching for them both, completely unaware of Jon's capture.

"Arya!" Ned shouted louder than any of his men, "Jon!"

"Arya!" his men shouted, "Snow!"

"My lord!" Jory alerted as he rode in and rushed to Ned's side, "My lord! We found Arya; she's unharmed.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"She's been taken directly before the king."

"Who took her?" Ned demanded.

"The Lannisters found her." Jory replied, "They've got the lad, as well. They've got bound in chains at the inn!"

"When I get back!" Ned snarled, enraged at his children's treatment as he marched back to the inn.

"The queen means to execute him!" Jory added in panic.

"Back! Back to the inn! Fall back!" Ned shouted to his bannermen. Hurrying as fast as he could for the sake of his son's life, Ned marched into the inn and shoved past every Lannister that got in his way. When he reached Robert and Cersei and spotted Arya, he immediately pulled her close to him so he could make sure she was unharmed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Arya apologized for making her father worry.

"Are you hurt?" he asked calmly.

"No." Arya said, but no less scared. In response, Ned pulled her in for a comforting hug and kissed her head to calm her. Dropping his fatherly persona, Ned resumed the harsh nature he reserved only for matters as both warrior and Warden.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded the fat king, "Why were my children not brought to me at once?!"

"How dare you speak to your king like that?" Cersei arrogantly scolded as her injured son stood next to her.

"Quiet, woman!" Robert barked before calming down for his friend, "Sorry, Ned. I never meant to frighten the girl. But we need to get this business done quickly."

"Where is my son, Robert?" Ned demanded.

"Bring him in." Robert sighed in displeasure. A moment later, Jon was escorted in, bound in chains and a mule harness to act as a makeshift stockade. Ned's blood boiled even more when he saw the bruises and dried blood on his son's lip. Clearly, the Lannisters felt arrogant enough to beat his son and thought they could get away with it due to his status.

"Your bastard, your girl and that butcher's boy attacked my son. That animal of hers nearly tore his arm off." Cersei coldly said to Ned.

"That's not true!" Arya protested, "She just…bit him a little. They were both protecting me. From him."

"Joff told us what happened. The three of you beat him with clubs before the bastard drew his sword, struck his prince and then you set your wolf on him." Cersei said to the girl.

"That's not what happened!" Arya cried.

"Yes, it is!" Joffrey argued, "They all attack me and the bastard stuck my sword in the ground.

"Liar!" Arya accused.

"Shut up!" Joffrey weakly retorted.

"Enough!" Robert bellowed, "He tells me one thing, she tells me another. Seven hells! What am I to make of this? Where's your other daughter, Ned?"

"In bed asleep." he answered.

"No, she's not." Cersei said with a fake smile, "Sansa, come here, darling."

To his shock, Ned watched his oldest girl nervously emerge from the crowd. As she did, she refused to make eye contact with her father or siblings.

"Now then, little dove. Tell us what happened." Cersei said, raising her nose at everyone.

"Not yet." Robert interrupted before turning his gaze to Jon, "Lad, you're the one facing the worst of it all. So, out with it. Tell us what happened."

"Your Grace, as you know, I am charged with protecting the daughters of the Hand of the King. A duty I pleaded for to Lord Stark, myself. I swore to protect and defend them from anyone who would attempt to harm them; even if they were a member of the royal family. The butcher's boy and Lady Arya were playing by the river with sticks, pretending they were swords, under my close supervision. Then Prince Joffrey and Lady Sansa came over to them, both of them having too much wine from a skin they brought. The prince proceeded to mock the butcher's boy and drew his sword on the lad before digging it into his cheek. Lady Arya was defending her friend when she struck the prince the one time with her stick. The prince then began to swing his sword at her and threatened to kill her. His exact words were, 'I'll gut you, you little shit!' Before he could, I drew my sword and stopped his strike. I was doing my duty as her protector. Aye, I did strike the prince, but it was to get him away from Lady Arya. I proceeded to disarm the prince and I embedded his sword into the ground. While our backs were turned to head back to the inn, the prince drew his dagger on Lady Arya, but her Direwolf prevented him. That is what happened, Your Grace."

"No, he's lying!" Joffrey wailed as he jabbed his finger towards Jon.

"Silence!" Robert bellowed before softening his gaze at Sansa, "Alright, child. You tell me what happened. Is my son telling the truth, or is your brother? Tell it true; it's a great crime to lie to a king."

Looking at her father, then Joffrey, then Jon, then back at Robert, Sansa hesitated before weakly saying, "I don't know. I don't remember."

Whispers filled the hall as Sansa said this. But Jon could only look at his sister in betrayal before dropping his head, preparing himself to meet his end.

"It all happened so fast. I didn't see-"

"Liar!" Arya shouted as she slapped her sister's head and pulled on her hair, "Liar, liar, liar!"

"Hey!" Ned shouted as he separated his squabbling daughters, "Arya! Enough!"

"She's as wild that animals of hers." Cersei smirked, "I want her punished."

"What would you have me do?" Robert asked, "Whip her through the streets? Dammit! Children fight. It's over."

"Joffrey will bear these scars for the rest of his life." Cersei chastised.

"Ned," he said ignoring her, "See to it that your daughter is disciplined. I'll do the same to my son."

"Gladly, Your Grace. But what of my son?" Ned asked, not wavering in his tone of authority.

"The bastard struck the crown prince, your heir. Execute him and be done with it." Cersei casually said to her husband as he tried to walk away from it all.

"No!" Arya protested as she struggled to break free from her father's grasp.

"Robert," Ned said almost desperately, "I implore you. Spare him. For the bond we share that was made with the man he's named after, spare him!"

"…I will not take the life of anyone's child tonight." Robert growled as he tightened his fists, "But, harming the heir to the throne cannot go unpunished. Ten lashes. Ten lashes and let us be done with this damn night. Take him outside."

"Father, no! Stop this!" Arya begged as her tears finally fell.

"At least let me be the one to do it." Ned pleaded as his son was pulled to his feet.

"I'm sorry, Ned. But I can't risk you holding back just because he's yours." Robert said, no happier than his friend, "This is the king's justice. It must be done by the king."

"And the direwolf?" Cersei asked.

"We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace." the soldier who captured Jon informed.

"They have another wolf." Cersei smoothly reminded.

"…So be it." Robert relented.

"You can't mean it." Ned hushed to the king.

"A direwolf's no pet. Get her a dog, she'll be happier for it." Robert dismissed as he stormed out while Sansa began to sob over the fate of her pet.

"Where is the beast?" Cersei asked without any source of empathy.

"Chained up outside, Your Grace." one of her guards replied.

"Ser Illyan, do me the honor." she smirked to mute executioner.

"No." Ned refused, "Jory, take the girls to their rooms. If it must be done, I will do it myself."

"Is this some trick?" Cersei asked.

"The wolf is of the north. She deserves better than a southern butcher." Ned firmly said in defiance. As his weeping daughters were taken to their rooms, Ned forced himself outside to settle his king's order. Once outside, he saw the grim, scared face of the Hound leading his horse through with a boy's corpse draped over the saddle.

"The butcher's boy." Ned exhaled in horror as the brute walked past him, "You rode him down?"

"He ran. But not very fast." Sandor grimly replied, not taking any pleasure in what he had done, but not letting it weaken him as it would any other man.

It was horrendous thing, the death of a child. But Ned knew no amount of grief, anger or any other emotion would bring the boy back. So he marched ahead to the stables where Lady was chained. When he reached the living symbol of his house, a creature that personified the deeds of his ancestors, the breathing image of the beast on the banner he carried into battle and wore on his person every day his entire life, all Ned could do was sigh in remorse. Neither he, his siblings, nor his ancestors for several generations had a Direwolf companion, and now he was robbing his own child of hers.

Despite Lady's size, she was still a pup; a naïve, gentle pup much like Sansa. So, kneeled at the wolf's side, affectionately stroked her jaw and scratched her ear before pulling out his dagger and quickly snuffing out the poor thing's life. After he did, Ned began to notice the sound of a large group coming near him. When the light of the torches revealed who it was, he was racked with anger.

"I thought it best to bring him to you before it happened." Robert curtly said as he held a torch in one hand, and a bull-whip in the other. Behind the fat king was Cersei, Joffrey, Jamie Jon bound in his chains, Ser Barristan, Sandor, and a group of Lannister soldiers.

"Tie him to the stable!" Robert shouted, not at all pleased with what he was about to do.

Following the king's orders, the Lannister men removed most of the chains, stripped Jon of his armor and tunic, and restrained Jon's wrists to the wooden beams of the stable. Once Jon was prepared, Robert took a moment to discreetly speak to the young man.

"Listen, lad," he muttered so no one could hear him, "I don't want to do this anymore than you want it to happen. But it has to be done. But if you're quick enough, you can take a swig of this to dull the pain."

With the darkness of the night giving him cover, Robert was able to discreetly show him a small vial of milk of the poppy. For a moment, a weaker part of Jon was tempted to take it, however, his warrior spirt quickly slayed it.

"Pain lets us know we are alive, Your Grace." Jon muttered back. Moved by the boy's strong will and fearlessness, Robert growled in frustration for having to punish such a brave and honorable young man.

"Jon Snow of House Stark," Robert said in his kingly voice, "For striking the crown prince of the seven kingdoms of Westeros, I, Robert of the House Baratheon, first of my name and lord of the seven kingdoms decree you shall be punished by ten lashes."

Not to show the boy any disrespect, Robert used all the strength he could muster in his fat body as he tossed the whip. As he did, for every strike on Jon's back, Cersei and Joffrey maliciously smirked as the watched the bleeding marks form on his back. Ned had to use every ounce of restraint to keep himself from drawing Ice and killing every last one of them. Although the roles were reversed, Ned felt as though he was emotionally experiencing what his elder brother went through when he and their fathered were tortured by the Mad King.

However, through it all, for all ten lashes on his back, Jon never gave the smug Southerners the satisfaction of hearing any sound of pain coming from his mouth. Instead, even though none of them could see it, Jon wore a look of fury that would have made the ancestors of both sides of his family proud.

After the final lash was given, Robert threw the whip down and stormed off, mostly likely to drink himself stupid, again. After he did, Cersei, Joffrey, and the rest of the Lannisters dispersed from the crowd and either returned to their duties or prepared themselves for sleep. After they did, Ned rushed to Jon and freed him from his chains.

"Oh, my boy." he muttered as he gently caught Jon before he fell on his wounds, "I'm so proud of you."

"It hurts!" Jon croaked as his tears stung his eyes.

"I know. I know." Ned exhaled before kissing Jon's head in comfort.

"My lord Hand." Sandor interjected as he came over with a makeshift stretcher, "Set him on this."

"What is this? Some sort of ruse so you can brutalize my son later? Like you did the butcher's boy?" Ned asked harshly as he protected his son.

"Tis no ruse, my lord." Sandor calmly replied as he laid out the stretcher.

"Then why?"

"The king may be a fat fuck now," Sandor bluntly began, "But he still possesses more strength than most men in their prime. Your bastard's got balls to take a beating from him and not make a sound. The old man's gone to fetch a maester."

"What old man?" Ned asked before Ser Barristan jogged over with one of the maesters Robert brought along in case anything happened to him or his children.

"Lord Stark, we must move him, quickly." Barristan urged as the maester examined the wounds.

"They don't appear to be infected, but we should have them cleaned just in case." the maester suggested after examining the injuries.

"Very well." he nodded before gently laying his son on the stretcher. Once Jon had been cleaned and bandaged, he was forced to lay on his stomach in bed for the rest of the night. As he laid there, wincing every so often in pain, Ned was reminded of the last time he saw his boy like this when he was almost lost to his fever. And, unfortunately, he was also reminded of the last time he saw the boy's mother alive.

"Promise me, Ned." he heard in his head.

"I'm trying." he whispered in shame to the ghost of his sister.

"Father?" Jon weakly asked, having woken up from the pain.

"Shh." Ned soothed as he smoothed out his son's curls, "Go back to sleep. You need your rest."

"I'm sorry, Father." Jon weakly said as he was lulled back to sleep.

"No, dear boy." Ned said with guilt as images of the life Jon should have had flashed through his mind. Of being showered with hugs and kisses from his two mothers and grandmothers, his birth-father teaching him to fight and play the harp, running and playing with his half-Dornish siblings. Of being the Targaryen prince he was supposed to be and the life he would have had were it not for his foolish uncle suggesting a marriage for his mother. "It is I who am sorry."

Okay...again, very sorry for the wait. The first semester of school was very time consuming and hard, so I didn't do much writing. As for the second one, well, I'm about to get to a very climactic part of my OUaT story and I wanted to get it done as soon as possible so I can stop rewatch that show. Anyway, before I continue to ramble excuses, here's a run down of what y'all just read.

If you didn't notice, Jon is actually a bit more cleaver than what we all saw in the show. He's aware of his status, but he knows how to just let things roll off his shoulder. He's also not completely wrapped up in his own self-pitty. Not to sound harsh, but the guy could have learned how to cope with bullying. As for why I had him be the one to deduce that it was Jamie and Cersei who pushed Bran, that was my way of limiting the amount of Catelyn scenes for this fic. I cannot stand her, no matter the version, and I wanted to give Jon a valid reason for why he wanted to go south with Ned and the girls. Also, I felt like he needed a little more interaction with the people in Winterfell at that time.

Now, as for Ned, I made a lot of changes for good reasons. Around the time I began writing this chapter, I was coming across quite a few fanfics that depicted Ned choosing Robert over Jon. Now, we may never know Ned's true feelings towards Jon during his time in Winterfell, but here's how I see it. If Ned had actually chosen Robert over Jon, Ned wouldn't have raised Jon for all those years. Think about it. Ned broke off all contact with Robert up until the Greyjoy Rebellion and didn't make any contact after that was taken care of. Furthermore, Ned had seen more than enough tragedy revolving around the Iron Throne than he ever wanted. So, why would he want to put Jon through that kind of torment.

I think, at the center of it all, Ned actually did see and love Jon as his own son and letting him go off to join the Night's Watch, something Jon always dreamed about I might add, was him just being a supportive father. If you think about it, Ned may have even considered Jon his first born before Robb. I mean, yeah, Robb is his biological son, but Jon was the first baby he held and looked after until he reunited with Cat and finally met Jon. Now, I'm not saying he loved Jon more than Robb, but when Ned decided to claim Jon as his son, that made him the first of children he held. And while I didn't like that Ned allowed Cat to mistreat Jon, despite his reasons, you got to give the man some slack. He didn't know what he was doing; no one in his situation would. He was doing the best he could to keep his house together and protect his family. I firmly believe that Ned was just respecting Jon's wishes and was trying to support his son's decisions and let him be his own man. Now, regarding Benjen.

I cannot stress how mad I am that they never clarrified whether or not Benjen knew the truth about Jon. I'm even more mad that they never did that regarding Aemon, but that's something to talk about at a later date. I find it hard to believe that Ned would not tell his only surviving sibling the truth about what happened to their sister and that her son was alive and well(ish). Lately, I've began to believe that the writers should have revealed the truth about Jon earlier in the show; if they had already planned that from the beginning. They should have revealed this the episode before the mutiny, or the episode of the mutiny to further add to Jon tragic story. Then, when Jon is trying to flee from the Wights and reunite with Benjen, as he's fleeing and Ben's about to be killed, he should have said, "Farewell, my sister's son." Or something like that.

I could spend an entire week ranting about what they should have done different, but I'm just gonna stop myself before I get too upset.

Now, regarding what happened about Ghost and Joffrey. Can any of you honestly disagree with me when I say that Ghost would have been killed before Lady had he been brought along? Be honest. Anyway, Jon's coldness during the fight with Joffrey will play a very important role in this story and will make several more appearances. It's going to play a big part in the wars to come. Also, it just seemed right to have Jon put that little turd in his place.

Also, I know Joffrey used a different word when he threatened Arya, but I really don't like the use of that word. I cuss all the time, but the only two that I don't use are the N-word and the C-word. It's just a personal thing of mine, so don't expect to see it in this story. Same with lemons.

Sandor and Barristan are also gonna have different roles in this story. For the most part, they'll be the same up until certain points. It's not really much of a spoiler, so I'll just go ahead and let you know that I won't be killing off Barristan in Mereen. Sandor, on the other hand, I won't say much, but I will say this: he'll get a better second chance. He deserves one.

Well, that's just about everything I feel the need to elaborate on. If there's anything else you'd like for me to expand on, ask me, or suggest anything, feel free to shoot me a review or PM. I don't know if they ever fixed what's going on with the PM alerts, so if they haven't and you shoot me one, sorry if it takes me awhile to respond.

Oh, and before I forget, let me respond to your guys' reviews.

Yes, the events beyond the Wall will progess as it did in the show, but with some minor adjustments. The story's mainly going to focus on Jon, so it won't be shifting around the world like it did in the show. Like I said in the last or first chapter, I don't have HBO anymore, so I'm mostly going off of YouTube clips to remind me what happened.

Also, to BadReader: Thanks for the imput on the slow to move along thing. I tend to get really wordy when I'm not writing dialect. I'll try to keep that in mind in the next chapter, sorry, but I forgot about your review over the months it took me to write this :\ As for Jon doing something original and not becoming the next Targaryen king, well...I'd like to say he's gonna do some original things, but for the most part, there's little that hasn't been done for his character. It's gonna be a long and painful journey for Jon, and we won't get in to what he'll do as a Targaryen for a long time; especially with how long it take me to write this damn thing. I'll be honest, a lot of this fic is going to be just how I would have done it if I made Jon join the War of the Five Kings instead of joining the Night's Watch. Mainly, I'm just trying not to make him OP or the male equivelant of a Mary Sue. Besides, I wanted him to become a Targaryen king. There were three things that I wanted by the end of the show: Jon king, Dany his queen/equal, and Sansa DEAD!

Anyway, before we FINALLY end this long-ass A.N., here's what Jon and Robb said to each other.

"Take care, my brother."

"And you, brother."

If you guys want it already translated but written in bold, let me know. I don't care either way, but if we ever get to a point where it's long conversations in the Old Tongue, I may just do that to spare myself trying to translate everything.

As always, like/follow me/the story if you liked it and please leave a review. Bye!