Author's note: Part of this chapter is inspired by the Biblical account of Joseph and Potiphar's wife.
The siege lines were almost complete and given the need to import wood by ship and then haul it in from the port at Plankey Town, even the siege engines were making good progress. The traction trebuchets were already done and hurling stones and pots of paint for the engineers to gather information that would be useful for the other artillery pieces. Seven counterweight trebuchets were being made, along with a score of scorpions. Each different piece would have a different task, but in concert they should be enough to allow the ram and siege towers to approach whether they be towers for archers or towers with ramps. Sappers were working on undermining the walls as well.
Even under the shade the Dornish heat was intolerable. Especially in the lowlands such as Sunspear. The Red Mountains and their foothills were at least tolerable but this was torture. Jon wiped his brow and took a sip of water from a clay cup. This was the problem with throwing oneself into one's work, Jon mused. Eventually you run out of work. But it was the only thing Jon could do.
Jon had spent nearly two years on campaign. Whether it be the long march from Winterfell to King's Landing or the actual war. He dreamed of swimming in the pools and moats of Winterfell, of sitting before the Heart Tree reading about the Kings of Winter, training in the yard with his friends, or hunting in the Wolfswood with Wraith. But now he could hardly imagine what life would be like when he went home. Theo was now his father's heir after the death of his elder brother in a skirmish near the Greenblood, Beron was now a White Knight of the Kingsguard, Alaric had died in the Battle of the Bloodyway. His friends now had duties that would take them far away from Winterfell or had joined the gods. He had sisters, aunts, and uncles to be sure; but they weren't the friends he raided the kitchens with or played among the stone Kings in the crypts. His aunts only joined their mischief when they wished to make Jon's friends filled with jealousy. His uncles were still young boys, the eldest was barely of an age with his sister Serena. His sisters would one day wed Northern lords. He had been a boy as green as summer grass and now, he was almost a grown man, his father's heir. A future Lord of Winterfell.
A single face appeared in his mind. Daena's face.
A marriage with a Targaryen princess was something he never expected before the war, and he already felt as if he betrayed that gift from the gods. He never meant to win the heart of the young maiden of Yronwood, but somehow he did. He had never meant to win Daena's heart either but somehow he did. Most men would have loved the ability to unwittingly win the hearts of women, but for Jon it felt like a curse. He saw how much it hurt Lady Jeyne. He had gone to give some kind words of comfort. He shuddered at the memory. What happened in her chambers was something he didn't want to think about. Something he never told anyone about. Not Theo, Beron, Aemon, Daeron, or even his own father. He had ran out as soon as he could but the shame weighed on him like a mountain.
So he threw himself into his work. Whatever task his father or Daeron had set him to, he did it like a man possessed. Even helping prepare ditches and fortifications with his own hands and the sweat of his brow. Yet it always played back in his mind.
Jon hoped that the siege would allow him to work off his frustration and anger at himself with the extensive siege works that needed to be done and the expected heavy fighting. Sunspear was the strongest castle in Dorne. Three massive walls with tightly packed streets and alleys in between the first and second wall. Just getting to the second wall would be a bloodbath. Unless they took the main gate, though that was itself heavily fortified with an iron portcullis, murder holes, and an iron reinforced oaken gate. Which was true for all the subsequent gates.
Jon raked his hair, and said, "By the gods this will be bloody".
A voice said, "Aye, but that is either the unfortunate or fortunate reality of war".
Jon turned and saw his father entering the pavilion.
Jon said, "Father, what do you mean"?
His father said, "It means that no matter what stratagem you use or how hard you fight, war will be bloody and it will be a terrible thing that in a perfect world would not exist. Alas, this is no perfect world".
Jon said, "I know father, but as your heir, do I not have a duty to ensure those who sworn to fight and die for me can return to their loved ones"?
His father said, "We're Northmen Jon, and the summer will likely come to a close soon. The Winters have been hard for the highborn and the low ever since the last Dragons died. We have no need for more mouths to feed. That is why our host is made of second sons, bastards, and greybeards. Even then it is smaller than what the North could truly muster from those categories. My mother was a Norrey of the mountains, in those mountains it is common for the greybeards followed by the younger sons to say they are going hunting in order to ensure the next generation can survive the winter. If the Kings of Winter were not at war then these men would find service at some Lord's castle or head across the Narrow Sea to fight as sellswords in Essos. We Northmen do not fear our own deaths like Southerners do, we fear the deaths of kin back home. That is why we fight. We die so they might live".
Jon said, with his voice heavy with emotion, "I do not want you to die father".
His father embraced him, "I have no intention of dying before I see you become the man who I know you will become. You will be a great man, Jon. Besides I mean to see you wed to your Targaryen princess and for you to become a father yourself".
Jon said with tears now falling down his face, "But what I am not worthy of her love and hand, what if I shame her"?
His father said, "My son, never doubt yourself. You are a Stark, your word is worth more than gold and more powerful than dragons. Never forget that"
Jon gave him a look but his father caught in and replied, "You know that you were born a full year before my betrothal to Jeyne and she instantly took to you. She called you the most adorable babe she ever saw. One would think that she was the woman who bore you for all she adored you".
Jon said, "She has been kind and the only mother I have known. But how could she it as no dishonor?".
His father sighed, "Because as a southerner would say she is the Mother herself in kindness and compassion. I do not keep the seven, but I have seen nothing that would prove that statement wrong", his father looked at him strangely before speaking again, "what has gotten into you? You were never so doubtful before"?
Before Jon could speak a soldier entered, "My lords, pardon my intrusion but the enemy has launched a sally. They are attempting to strike heavier siege engines under construction".
His father said, "Quickly arm and armor yourself. We have to ride out to turn them back! We will consider this conversation at another time".
Jon said, "Aye", and did as he was bid.