Chapter 14

King's Landing

If Jon had thought that he would be glad to reach King's Landing and put an end to the weeks of hard travel, then he was very much mistaken, the first thing he noticed, almost before the city was in sight, was the smell, never before had he smelled such a stench. Talk about pong. Noting his grimace, Barristan admitted that the city hadn't always smelled this bad, but it had gotten worse over the years. A part of Jon suspected that 'worse over the years could be translated as 'since Robert became King'.

As for the city itself, it would have taken his breath away if the smell hadn't already done it. He had never seen a city so large or crowded before. He doubted that even the largest city in the North could compare. A thousand times the size of Wintertown with a thousand times the people, King's Landing was a proper city in every sense of the word.

If there was such a thing as a city of opposites, then Jon was sure that King's Landing was the very definition of it. The broad avenues and manses of the wealthy were offset by the narrow alleys and tiny crooked streets that seemed to encroach on one another's space. Milling about from street to street were the residents of the city. The noble born and well to do on horseback or strutting about as though they owned the place while the poor shuffled about aimlessly.

Upon entering the city, Jon found that the sounds of the city were just as bad as the stench. The clomp of hooves, the trample of feet, the bustle of over a hundred docks, the clamour of the markets, merchants plugging their wares, prostitutes and beggars. Beggars everywhere.

As they entered one of the valleys between two of the city's hills, both the stench and the crush of the crowd grew exponentially worse. It was a conscious effort not to gag. Noting the wary eye that Barristan kept on the crowd, Jon kept a careful eye on his weapons and other belongings. It wouldn't do him any good to have his belongings stolen the very day he arrived in the capital.

Jon couldn't stop himself breathing a sigh of relief as they left the slums behind. He had expected there to be slums in such a large city, of course, but he hadn't expected them to be so bad. He wondered why King Robert hadn't done anything about them. Jon shook his head at the sheer arrogance and laziness it took for a king to ignore the suffering of the poor and homeless in his own capital.

A good king, Jon thought, should care about his people, should try to improve their lives where possible. The current state of King's Landing showed just how little Robert cared… About anything at all. If he ever decided to take up his father's birthright, Jon decided that he would attempt to improve the lives of the lower classes.

Finally after navigating the streets for almost another hour, they began to approach the Red Keep itself. As they began to ascent Aegon's Hill to the Keep itself, Jon felt a flutter of misgivings. Once he entered the fortress-like Keep. There would be no going back. Acting as Barristan's squire he hoped he would be ignored, though there would no doubt be those who would be willing to insult him based on his birth alone. Or his supposed birth at least. He had tried to mentally prepare, but it was hard when he didn't entirely know what he was about to face. Everyone he had ever spoken to had described the place as a viper's pit.

Or more of a lion's den.

And now he was about to willingly enter that very same lion's den. Jon wondered if he was mad to even consider it. Every moment in that Keep would be a balancing act, trying each day to keep the truth of who he was secret, to keep the secret of his birth. As there were very few trustworthy people living in the Red Keep, it would be the greatest challenge of his life. It was a daunting thought, especially when you considered the fact that he was only twelve years old.

As the red stones of the outermost walls and the enormous bronze gates grew ever closer, Jon knew that there was no going back. He had come too far to turn back now. Taking a deep breath, Jon rode through the gates beside Barristan.

Jon's apprehensiveness only grew as they led their horses through the complex to the stables that the served the Kingsguard. As the gates clanged shut behind them, Jon took a few deep breaths in an attempt to steady his nerves.

Jon patted Epona's neck as he dismounted. He was particularly proud of the way Epona had handled herself in the chaos of the city. As the stableboy began to lead Epona away, Jon became aware of voices close by. He turned his head slightly to the side to see conversing with an odd man. Jon studied the man carefully as he listened. Somewhat rotund, short, shaven head and wearing brightly coloured robes. If he had to guess, Jon would have said that the man was from Essos. Possibly one of the Free Cities. Jon couldn't help thinking that there seemed to be slightly feminine about the man.

After a few moment's conversation the man turned to Jon. "And who might you be? I'm certain that I would remember a young man like you."

"Ser Barristan has taken me on as his squire," he said quietly. "I'm Jon Snow."

"The bastard of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell?" the stranger inquired, seemingly rather surprised. Jon was beginning to feel more and more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

"Lord Varys serves on the council as spymaster," Barristan informed him.

Jon had heard of Varys, of course. A eunuch more commonly known as the Spider for his vast spy network spread across most of Essos as well as the entirety of Westeros. He was also certain that Varys had been very well aware of who he was – or at least aware of who he was meant to be – and had orchestrated this meeting for no other reason than to unnerve him.

"Speaking of the council," Varys said silkily, "an emergency meeting has been called. Immediately. His grace insists. Once I received word of your return, I thought it prudent that you attend."

Jon couldn't help but be surprised. From what little he had seen and heard, he had honestly not expected King Robert to take much of an interest in the politics of the realm. Perhaps the rumours were wrong. Perhaps Robert would be able to prove him wrong. Though Jon was forced to admit that he was keeping his expectations low until proven otherwise.

Barristan, on the other hand, was unimpressed. An immediate summons by the king was not always good news. In fact it most often portended ill news he had never minded before, dealing with the King's moods was part of the job and it wasn't much worse than what he had faced under Aerys Targaryen. But he had Jon to think of now. The safety and welfare of the boy he considered his true king were in his hands alone now. It was an enormous responsibility. And not something to think about now.

With a sigh, Barristan indicated that Jon should accompany him to the council meeting. Jon attempted to keep his eyes and ears open as much as he could on walk through the keep, trying to pay attention as Barristan and Varys pointed out various aspects of the Red Keep as they went. He appreciated the mini tour.

He had known, of course, that he would be attending Ser Barristan during council meetings, but hadn't expected to be thrown into the deep end on his first day in the city. Especially as thanks to the tour, no matter how brief it was, they were the last to arrive at the council chambers. At the very least, the only person who was later than them was the king himself. A fact that he found somewhat odd, particularly as the king was the one who had called the meeting.

Conversations died as they entered the room. The silence only deepened as Barristan briefly introduced Jon. He supposed that he should have expected this. It wasn't every day that a knight as renowned as Ser Barristan turned up with a bastard for a quire. Before Jon had the time to feel truly awkward about it, the king arrived.

It wasn't hard to miss the king's arrival. The man made enough noise for a horde of stampeding horses. Or perhaps a horde of stampeding elephants. Any hopes that Jon may have harboured about Robert proving any negative rumours about him wrong shattered. Robert appeared to be just as mad as the mad King. And about as disinterested in ruling. Not to mention having serious temper issues.

Judging by the king's overly red face, the way he was huffing and puffing, and the way the vein on his forehead was about to explode, he was in a foul mood. And it soon became crystal clear why.

Jon didn't know what had ignited the King's anger, he could only pray that they survived the fall out of whatever storm was currently brewing under the king's skin. It didn't take long to find out what had ignited the king's temper. And once the storm broke, Jon wished he didn't know what any of his, wished that he were literally anywhere else in the world in that moment.

Through the rage and the shouting coming from Robert, they were able to piece together what had stoked his anger. Or rather, Varys and Jon Arryn translated the man's screams of pure fury. Varys' 'little birds' had sent word from Essos, concerning Rhaegar's younger brother and sister. Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen were currently residing with a wealthy magister in one of the Free Cities. Having grown tired of being responsible for his younger sister, Viserys had betrothed his sister to the Magister in question.

Jon could only listen in shock as various members of the council either attempted to placate Robert or attempt to stoke his anger further, no doubt for their own political gain. From where Jon was standing it seemed that the varied council members were offering up as many varied 'solutions' to the 'issue' as there were stars. Having already been informed of King Robert's utter hatred of all things Targaryen, he was only slightly surprised to hear how many council members advocated for sending assassins after his aunt and uncle. Only a handful of council members were willing to speak out against the assassinations. Betrothals could be ended after all. It might not necessarily mean a wedding. And the girl was barely twelve years old.

Jon had only been in this city for a couple of hours and he was already exhausted. He didn't know how he was going to survive the next few years.

Winterfell

Eddard Stark watched his wife distrustfully over dinner that night. His wife was by very definition a southern woman and he had always been wary of southerners. How could he not be? His father and elder brother had gone south to be murdered by the king. His younger sister had been kidnapped by a southern prince, only to be left to die during childbirth in a southern tower. And now it seemed that his southern wife was having an affair with his brother.

Small wonder he didn't trust southerners.

He had been suspicious when the Greyjoy hostage had come to him and told him that he had seen his wife and brother sneaking around in isolated parts of the castle. In Eddard's eyes, the Ironborn were the only people less trustworthy than southerners. He also doubted whether a child the boy's age knew what an extramarital affair looked like.

But what Eddard couldn't deny was the fact that his wife and brother had grown closer ever since they had found out the truth about young Jon's true parentage. He admitted he had never intended to tell anyone the truth about Jon so as to not threaten Robert's claim on the throne. He had also never expected his wife of over a decade and his younger brother to bond over their shared knowledge. If he was being honest with himself he had expected his wife to continue to mistreat Jon due to his heritage and his brother to hate the boy for killing their sister when he was born.

It may not have been entirely reasonable, or even fair, but it was the honest truth.

But for now he was more concerned with what Greyjoy had told him. While Eddard knew there was a chance that Theon Greyjoy had lied to him in order to blackmail him so that he could return to the Iron Islands. But he wasn't sure if he wanted to take that risk. He would always prefer a traitor in plain sight than one hidden in the shadows.

He was aware of course that Theon Greyjoy had not named his brother as his wife's lover, but had named another instead. An old childhood friend of Catelyn's. But he rather doubted that Catelyn would have an affair with him. It was expected for a wife to correspond with her family and friends. Besides, it would be rather hard to have an affair with someone you hadn't seen in nearly thirteen years. Plus, it hadn't been Baelish who had been holed up with his wife in that secluded chamber. It had been his brother Benjen. It had been the only sibling he had left.

Benjen visited from the Wall maybe once every eighteen months or so, while Baelish had never once visited the North to the best of his knowledge. In a way it was easier to be afraid of the more immediate threat, which in this case was his brother Benjen, and not fucking idiot Petyr Baelish.

Eddard had never once thought that Catelyn was the type of woman to cheat, even though the marriage had been arranged and she had originally been betrothed to his elder brother. By the gods, his wife was truly working her way through the men of his family, wasn't she? He couldn't help wondering who the hell Catelyn would be moving onto next.

He may not have thought that Catelyn would have an affair, but now that the thought had been planted, he couldn't get the thought out of his head. Even if the person who had planted those thoughts in his mind in the first place blatantly couldn't be trusted.

Eddard watched with narrowed eyes as Catelyn rose and exited the Great Hall accompanied by their son Robb and Maester Luwin. He certainly didn't enjoy being so suspicious, but he didn't know how to ease his fears. He certainly couldn't just ask Catelyn whether or not she was having an affair. He could no longer trust her. After everything that had happened in the last few months, he truly didn't have a clue about who to trust anymore.

And that fact worried him more than anything.

Essos

Arthur Dayne stared at the letter that he was holding, somewhat in shock. Unless he was mistaken, it was from his Westerosi contact, Lord Howland Reed. Once a year for the last twelve years, Arthur had received a letter from Lord Reed concerning the status of their young Prince and rightful king of Westeros. Rhaegar's son.

So it wasn't anything unusual for him to receive a letter from Westeros. But what made this particular letter so out of the ordinary was the fact that it had come less than four months since the last, something which caused a sense of foreboding fill him. Particularly as Lord Reed's mail was usually as smooth as clockwork. For this one not to be… Whatever news this letter contained, it could not possibly be good news.

Throwing the unopened letter down on the table, Arthur stalked over to the battered old cabinet in the corner of his rented rooms and pulled out a half-filled bottle and a glass. Pouring himself a glass, Arthur downed it in a single gulp. Taking a deep steadying breath and walked back to where the letter lay, as though it exerted an inexorable pull.

Steeling himself, Arthur finally opened the letter. Scanning the letter carefully, Arthur felt both relieved and terrified.

Pleased and relieved that his prince had found out the truth of who he truly was. How he had discovered his heritage, Reed hadn't said, but it certainly hadn't been Lord Stark who had told him. Knowing that Ser Barristan now knew the truth about both Aemon and himself, was a comfort. The prince would be protected at Barristan's side, the old knight would make sure of that. As for himself… Pretending to be a ghost was truly exhausting.

But the very fact that Lord Reed stated that Prince Aemon currently accompanied Ser Barristan to King's Landing and the Red Keep absolutely terrified him. Like Lord Reed he trusted Ser Barristan to protect the Prince, but how could a child be expected to successfully navigate the royal court? It had been a vipers pit while Aerys was alive, he could only imagine that it had gotten worse in the years since the Rebellion.

Arthur groaned as he sank into the nearest chair. When he had opened that letter, he had not expected any of this. He had been afraid for the safety of his prince for years thanks to Reed's letters. Reed's previous letters had made it perfectly clear that Lord Stark was not treating his nephew the way he should be treated.

He understood that it had been safer for Prince Aemon to grow up unaware of his heritage, especially as the Usurper would have killed the prince immediately had he discovered the truth. But Lord Stark's continued insistence at falsely calling the boy his bastard… Allowing his wife to also not only believe the lies and treat the child so foully in his own home… It more than grated on the nerves.

The one thing that this letter proved was that it was past time to return to Westeros. As much as he wanted to leave for King's Landing straight away, his departure would likely be delayed several months as he wrapped up his affairs in Essos.

King's Landing also should not be his first stop when he arrived back in Westeros. As desperate as he was to finally see his prince with his own eyes, it would not be safe for him to appear in the capital without gaining further information that wasn't mentioned in this letter. No, after landing in Westeros for the first time in twelve years, his first stop would have to be Greywater Watch. He would need to speak to Lord Reed before heading to King's Landing. To find out what he knew that wasn't in his letter.

Rising from his seat, Arthur Dayne strode to the door. For the first time since Rhaegar had been killed twelve years ago, he had a duty. With Rhaegar's blood returning to King's Landing, there was much to do. He finally had a purpose again. It was time to return home.