A/N: I like to think a faster update with a short chapter is better than no update at all.

Our Blades Are Sharp

By Spectre4hire

42: Jon

"Do you think we'll get knighted after we win?" Alyn asked.

Jon sat tired and sore by the fire, thankful for the reprieve after the day of hard work that Thoros had put him and the others through.

"Winning?" Harwin scoffed, sitting across from them, "We haven't even fought, and you're already dreaming about your knighthood."

"I'm confident in Ser Beric's plan," Alyn didn't allow Harwin's bluntness to puncture his optimism.

"Why?" A new voice joined their conversation, heads turned to see Ser Justin, a knight in Lord Mallery's employ. He was flanked by two others, but their names slipped Jon's memory. He only knew of Justin because the man's voice was often loud when it came to discussing or in his case dismissing their cause.

"He proposes we fight the Mountain with holes and traps," Justin sneered, "He's leading us to our deaths."

"We have our orders," Harwin observed solemnly, earning murmurs of agreement from the other northerners who had come with them from Lord Stark's household.

"Bring the Mountain to justice."

"Aye, we got our orders," Justin agreed, his snide tone conveying his thoughts on those merits, "From a dead king and a Hand that's been arrested for treason."

The mention of Lord Stark provoked the loyal northerners, stirring and muttering, who sent glares and dark looks towards the knight and his men for their insults towards their liege lord.

"Careful," Jon found his voice before another could, and he was certain that voice would be more angry and threatening then his.

"You talking to me, bastard?" Ser Justin frowned, clearly annoyed at being addressed by him.

"Sounded more like a threat," provoked one of the men who stood beside him.

"Aye," the knight nodded, "It did."

"What's all this?" Thoros came into view.

"Nothing," Justin turned away from Jon but not before giving him a contemptuous look. He gestured for his followers, and they left the northerner encampment without another word or looking back.

"Great Other take him," Thoros cursed when the man was out of sight. He grumbled as he pulled out the wineskin tied to his hip, "His mouth's bigger than any hole we could dig."

Jon wisely didn't comment on the matter.

"You handled him well, Master Snow," Harwin praised sincerely.

"Aye, you did," Thoros agreed, taking the empty spot on Jon's other side.

"You see knights like that, Alyn, and you still want to be one," Harwin shook his head in dismay before going back to the pot that was simmering over the fire.

Jon ate his stew in silence, mulling over Harwin's words, and disdain for knighthoods. He remembered the famous knights, he and Robb dreamed of being as they played and ran around Winterfell. It was in learning about knights from his lessons with Maester Luwin did Jon first learn of a better life that could be had for bastards. Those who proved themselves with integrity and courage and who rose above the stigma of their bastard birth.

Many nights in Winterfell he fell asleep to the pleasant thoughts of being knighted, earning a name and land for some great deed. He still remembered Robb's reaction when he told him of his dreams of knighthood.

I'll knight you when I'm Lord of Winterfell, Robb declared when they were still boys, I promise, I'll give you a castle too. But it can't be too far, I can't have my brother and best friend too far away.

Jon smiled fondly at the memory. It had been him who had to correct Robb that a knight had to knight another, and that just being a Lord didn't necessarily qualify. Robb hadn't cared about that detail. Then we'll just have to become knights together, he proposed, and whoever is knighted first will have to knight the other.

He had happily agreed to his brother's plan. That was Robb's way, supportive and loyal. It didn't matter to him that knights were of the south, and followed the Seven, he hadn't cared. If it had become important to Jon then Robb made it important to him too.

Now, they weren't talking and playing about being knights and fighting in battles. They were preparing for it.

Robb's called the banners of the north with plans on marching south to free their father.

He's not your father.

Jon frowned down into his half empty bowl at the invasive voice that whispered in the back of his mind, never letting him forget this new truth.

"Ya can't judge all knights by him," Thoros' dismissive voice burst through Jon's reflections. "That be like judging all Red Priests by me," he laughed, pointing to himself as he did, before taking another sip from his wineskin.

Harwin smiled, "Aye, wouldn't that be a pity." He had formed an unexpected friendship with him, the two often shared drinks and jokes by the fire.

"Shouldn't we ride north?" Jon's thoughts on Robb's movements lingered on his mind, "We can regroup with my brother."

"Your brother is hundreds of leagues away," Thoros said bluntly, "He won't be here for weeks."

Jon couldn't argue the truth in that observation, so he finished his stew quietly, vowing that he'd join Robb as soon as he could. That's where I belong, he thought, by his side.

"What of Ser Beric?" Alyn asked, "Has there been any sightings of him?"

While they remained behind to dig holes and prepare traps for the Mountain, Ser Beric had taken the rest of their forces to harass and lead the Mountain in the wrong direction. Allowing them to make their preparations without fear of being discovered. When the time was right, Ser Beric would lead them unexpectedly right into their trap.

"No," Thoros rubbed his beard in thought, "But it should be soon. The patrols are increasing we shan't remain hidden for much longer. We'll have to fight whether we're ready or not."

"I'm ready," Alyn said earnestly.

Thoros looked him over from above his wineskin, a scrutinizing gaze, that had melted away all of his previous jovialness. "Many men say that before the eve of battle," he took a small sip, "and most are proven wrong." He sighed.

"We have the advantage," Alyn argued, "Our cause is just. The Old Gods will bless us."

Thoros let out a hoarse laugh. "A just cause? You think that'll protect you from Gregor Clegane? Was his cause just when he raped Princess Elia and her children butchered!" he asked angrily. "I was there in the throne room, the day their bodies were presented." His mouth twisted, a hazy hue in his eyes, "I'll never forget the bodies of the little Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon." He held up his wineskin, "No matter how hard I try."

The sister and brother I'll never know.

Jon had heard the horrors that were committed by the Lannister army during the Sack of King's Landing. They had seemed so different then. Aerys, Elia, Rhaenys, Aegon, strangers written in ink, but now that Jon knew the truth, he couldn't see them like that anymore. They weren't just names in one of Maester Luwin's lessons, they were his kin.

Aerys, Rhaenys, Aegon, these were names forged in blood to Jon. Rhaenys and Aegon were the siblings he could've known growing up. He couldn't help but wonder would he be as close to Aegon as he was to Robb? Would he love Rhaenys as much as Arya? They were his blood, but now they were ghosts.

He stared into the fire, finding himself silently praying to the Old Gods-for protection and for justice.

"Thoros," one of the men-at-arms sprinted towards them, "We have news from Ser Beric."

Jon blinked out of his prayers. He was unable to deny the uneasy sense of power that seem to settle over him due to the timing of messenger's arrival. They're listening, he knew it.

"It's time," the messenger relayed, "Ser Beric says at first light, we fight!"

"You wanted to see me, Ser Beric?" Jon approached the Lord of Blackhaven. It had been more than an hour since the Lord of Blackhaven had returned to their camp. However, in that time he spent most of it with the knights and lords of his retinue. No doubt, they were still working on the plans of the attack in the morning.

He was talking to Thoros but upon Jon's approach he turned to greet him. In the firelight he looked weary. His red hair was windswept, his black cloak muddied while his tunic and trousers were wrinkled. "Aye, I did, by now you know that in the morning we will strike at the Mountain's camp."

"I have heard that, my lord."

"I promised your father I'd protect you, and see you safely on the road to Winterfell," Beric sighed, "A task that only grows in difficulty the more north we go." He scratched at his beard, "That is why I cannot ask you to join in the fighting tomorrow."

"You don't have to ask me," Jon replied, "You need every sword you can get against the Mountain. I can fight. You need me."

"This isn't a song, boy," Beric said bluntly, "This will not be a ballad sung my minstrels. It'll be the sound of steel and screams."

"I'm a man grown," Jon argued. "This is my choice. I can fight. I will fight." He thought about the stories of Rhaenys and Aegon being cloaked in the red capes of Lannister to hide their blood and wounds. The bodies of my siblings.

He could hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears. Where was their choice? What chance did they have?

The Mountain denied them that, and Jon couldn't forget that. Not now, not after he knew the truth. His choice was made and he'd see it through.

"Have you ever killed a man, Snow?" Thoros cut in bluntly.

"I have," Jon saw the surprise on Thoros' face at his answer. He remembered the wildlings who ventured too close to Winterfell, and the fighting that ensued between them and Jon, Robb, Domeric, and Theon. They had fought and killed them.

The Red Priest wiped away his surprise and adapted a more unbothered look. He folded his arms over his large stomach. "This is different. This is the Mountain, and he is not one you seek on the battlefield."

"But that's why we're here," Jon pointed out, "We were given orders in the name of our King. Justice must be handed out," Jon clenched his hands into fists at his side. "I cannot turn my back on that just because of the dangers involved." Trying and failing to keep the irritation from seeping into his tone, "Every other man out there has families that would want to see them return too. Why should I be allowed that offer to leave but not them?"

"Because you're the Lord Hand's Son," Beric observed delicately.

"I'm his bastard," Jon spat, the anger burned and swelled in his chest.

Beric frowned whether it was Jon's tone or the answer itself, he didn't know, but the Stormlord took his response unhappily all the same. "What of your direwolf? Has he returned yet?"

"Ghost is still hunting," It wasn't unlike him to be gone for nights at a time to hunt, but Ghost would always return. It didn't matter how far either of them traveled, he always found his way back to Jon.

That didn't please Beric either. It seemed he was expecting or wanting Ghost to be here with Jon.

"I'm your squire, my lord," Jon bit out bluntly, "I belong beside you, ser."

"You belong in Winterfell," Beric corrected him, his expression softened, "And that is where you must head."

"What of my brother?" Jon challenged, "He marches south with the might of the north behind him. I'm in this fight, my lord. It's just a matter of where I'll join it. Here," he pointed away, "or there at my brother's side."

"Enough," Beric's expression hardened. It was clear he was tired of this talking or more accurately tired of Jon's arguing. "My decision is made. I must honor your father's request. You'll leave as soon as you're packed."

"Master Snow? What are you doing?" asked a baffled Harwin, watching him in confusion as Jon gathered up his things by the fire and began to hastily stuff them into his bag.

Jon ignored him. He couldn't trust his voice. The anger bubbled in his gut, and he didn't have the strength or the desire to try to quell it, so he let it rage within. Already in his mind he was figuring out how'd he return. Ser Beric could send him away, but he couldn't keep him from returning.

"Snow."

He stopped. Looking over his shoulder to see the Red Priest approach him. He bit back a sarcastic retort that he yearned to say, and instead settled for a reply that sounded more curt than polite, "Thoros?"

"I've spoken with Ser Beric," Thoros cut right to it, "And convinced him it was folly to send you away."

That got Jon to stand up. "Really?"

"Aye, I told him you'd just sneak back and join us," Thoros answered, "and it'd be better to keep an eye on you from the start then have you join in the middle of the fray where we'd have a hard time keeping watch on you."

"I see," Jon's irritation stirred within: they wanted him back to watch him not because they thought they could use him.

"I offered to be that someone. To keep an eye on you, and you'll be by my side," Thoros revealed, "but I'd give you a chance to ask you one more time," a sobering look came to the Red Priest's face, "Are you certain about this, lad?"

"I am," Jon answered without hesitation, seeing a look flicker across Thoros' face that he couldn't quite place and then it was gone.

"Very well," Thoros let his stoic demeanor slip away as he brought up his wineskin, "We'll try to mostly stay out of sight."

"Says the man with a flaming sword," Jon smirked.

Thoros laughed, "I never said it would be easy, boy," he took a sip from his wineskin while looking around the campfire. "Where's your direwolf, Snow? I offered to have you at my side thinking I'd have that ferocious beast looking out for me too," his eyes glittered mischievously before feigning a frown.

Jon chuckled, "Ghost will be back." He was certain of it.

"Good," Thoros looked and sounded pleased by that reassurance, "Because we'll need any advantage we can get." He then patted Jon on the back, "Get some rest, lad. You'll do me no good sore and tired. It's an early morning for us all."

"I will," Jon assured him, the Red Priest didn't press him on it, only giving him a nod before heading back to his bedroll, "Thoros," he called back to him, he stopped and turned to Jon. "Thank you."

"That's the thing, Snow," he said softly, "I'm not sure you should be," he added solemnly, he then raised his wineskin in Jon's direction, and walked away.

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but when I was working on this I decided that the actual fight and the aftermath of it deserved it's own chapter. We'll get back to Jon in two or so chapters.

Thanks for the support,

-Spectrerhire