Little confession on this chapter, I actually completed it within roughly a week of my last update. However, I wanted to hold off on releasing it until I got a good jump on the next chapter. Which proved to be quite beneficial because, although this chapter was very quick to write, the same cannot be said of the next chapter. Despite having said that though, I do have a good chunk written and it will be released within a month of this chapter. So don't worry, I am doing my best to keep on track with the update schedule that I've set for myself.
Now then, wanted to address something quick that has come up in a few reviews. While I am pulling primarily from the books, I am also using bits of the show as well. Which includes the timeline. Right now, in the story it is 296AD, 13 years after Roberts Rebellion. Some have said that, because the direwolves are in the story, that the main story line will soon be starting up. Well, you will just have to wait and see. But that might not necessarily be the case. Also, I've had several questions as to the length or multiple parts. Unlike IATB, I'm going to bee keeping this to one story. As too the length…well we're on chapter 15, 300k words and not even to the start of the story yet. So I can safely say that this is gonna be a long one folks. So buckle up!
Also, one final note. I'm trying something a bit different with the lore in this chapter (which will become obvious once you get to that point). But it is something that I haven't read before, or at least this take on it anyway. And in the interest of keeping things different, I decided to go this route. Now again, I didn't go different just to be different, it will have a point later.
Huge shout out to my beta reader and brainstorm partner Tellemicus Sundace. The help has been invaluable so far. And another huge thank you to everyone who has favorited, alerted or reviewed this story so far. Your support is what keeps me going! So if you feel so inclined to leave a review, please do! They really do help me get my mojo going and get the next chapters rolling on.
Lastly, I do not own Disney, nor am I Lucas or Martin; so I have no ownership of A Song of Fire and Ice, Game of Thrones or Star Wars. This is purely for fun with no profit being made. And with that out of the way, let's get to the chapter! Stay safe out there everyone!
Chapter 15
Enjoying the sensation of the somewhat warmed winds of the northern spring air warm her body, Lady Catelyn Stark stood tall in the courtyard before the main keep of Winterfell as she waited for her children and her husband to return from their voyage to White Harbor while beside her, her youngest son Rickon bounced excitedly from foot to foot as he waited with all the patience a boy his age could muster. And while she was most anxious to see the return of her children and her husband, the same could not necessarily be said of the return of the sorcerer and the boy.
Her feelings on the sorcerer were still…mixed, to say the least. The practical side of her, which had become more and more prevalent with each passing year she spent in the North, recognized the benefit the sorcerer had brought to the land and the continued benefit he brought with just his mere presence. However, that practical part of her heart was at constant war with her faith, the core of who she was. The Faith of the Seven did not have a favorable view on magic. It was unnatural. Such power belonged with the gods and the gods alone. After all, it was magic that destroyed the greatest civilization ever known. In fact, it was said that it was magic that was the cause of the Long Night during the Age of Heroes, if one were to believe such things.
Yet, she had trouble finding these words to be true. Her children, even Sansa despite not being an active participant, all had this magic the sorcerer could wield. Even her youngest son by her side. If magic were indeed evil as was known in the Faith of the Seven, then why were her children cursed with it? For years, this question plagued her mind and kept her awake many a night as she knelt before the statues of the Seven in her small Sept, praying for guidance. But as the years wore on and the Seven refused to answer her questions, she began to have…doubts. Watching her children practice this…unnatural ability at first set her teeth on edge. But now…now she was starting to see the benefits. And none of her children were falling to darkness that was said to curse all those who used magic.
After more than one infuriating conversation with the sorcerer, she swore that man could sway even the wisest man alive with but a few words, she came to a startling revelation. Magic, or this Force as he insisted on calling it, was not inherently good nor evil. But rather, it was the actions that were taken with it that made it good or evil. Much the same as a sword. It was simply a tool. One that could be used for great evil or one that could be used for good. It all depended on the wielder. And with that mindset, Cat had stopped trying to prevent her children from learning magic, which was a futile task to begin with. Rather she tried to guide her children to only do good. And she felt that, with the absence of the sorcerer, that she had been able to make some ground with her children and her teachings. But now with his return, the gods only knew what would happen as his apparent hold over her husband and children were quite strong.
Her dear friend Petyr had suggested that she get Ned to grant the sorcerer a tower or keep outside of Winterfell to keep his influence from growing more than it already was. And she had brought the idea up to her husband, leaving aside the want to wane his steadily growing influence over her children. The idea seemed to take on even more merit when she brought up the former-serving girl Nyra's pregnancy. If the sorcerer had even a shred of honor, which she knew he did especially now that they had received a raven a week past announcing that the sorcerer and Nyra would be wed beneath the weirwood in Winterfell upon the conclusion of her son's fair, then the sorcerer would be honor-bound to marry the girl and raise her to the ranks of nobility. They would then start their own House, which had technically already been started when the King had declared Lord Nox as a Lord. And they would need a place of their own to start their family. There were many abandoned towers and keeps around the North. Hells, even Moat Cailian was a valuable option. But in the end, her idea was dismissed by Ned.
At first she had been irritated by the dismissal, but then Ned had explained to her that Nox was still very much needed in Winterfell as the College he had founded was still in its infancy and their children needed a teacher to guide them through the usage of their magic. In the end, she had conceded the point and had resigned herself to making sure that the sorcerer's grip on her husband and children did not grow any more than it already had.
The boy however, Jon, her feelings on him were perhaps even more mixed than they were on the sorcerer. After her foolish display in the godswood years ago when she foolishly admitted her promise to the old gods she had tried, Seven help her she had tried, to not hate the boy at the very least. But it was hard. So very hard. He was the living embodiment of her husband's dishonoring of her. Just the mere sight of him was enough send a wave of anger and fear through her. He looked more like a Stark than her own trueborn children. Every day she feared that he would awaken to his bastard nature and covet that which was not his by right. How long until he turned against her sons? How long until he tried to forcibly take her daughters? These thoughts plagued her for years.
Yet as the years wore on, she found herself more and more conflicted. Jon…he simply did not act as she was taught that all bastards did. He genuinely seemed to care for her children, his trueborn siblings. He never held his accomplishments above their heads. Instead if he managed to succeed where her children failed, he tried to help them overcome what had set them apart. It wasn't right! He wasn't like a bastard. He wasn't acting as her tutors in the faith and her family had always claimed bastards acted like. She'd said as much to Petyr, and he advised caution. The boy might be only putting on an act. Waiting until the right moment to strike when her, her husband and her children would least expect it. She tried to find the deceit in him just like Petyr advised, but it was always for not. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was one of the rare few exceptions to the nature of a bastard? But even if that were the case, she would not truly feel safe for herself and her children's future until he was well away from Winterfell. Either in a keep of his own or at the Wall, she didn't care. She just wanted—no, needed him gone.
"Relax, Cat. You'll wear the soles out of those boots of yours if you keep shifting your weight like that."
Smiling, Cat turned her head slightly. Standing just beside her in the armor and livery representative of their house was her uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, the Knight of the Gate for House Arryn. His arrival with the Lords that'd had come representing the Vale had been a surprise, but a very pleasant surprise. In some instances, her Uncle was almost more of a father to Lysa, Edmure and herself than their own father. He always took the time to listen to them or to help them whenever he could. And she had dearly missed his supportive presence ever since she wed Ned and became Lady Stark.
Looking down the line, she spied the other knights of the Vale that had accompanied her uncle on the journey north. And she couldn't wait to see the look on her daughter Sansa's face when she beheld true examples of southern knighthood. Beside her Uncle stood the impressive form of Lord Yohn Royce, the 'Bronze Yohn' along with his three sons: Andar, Robar and Waymar. The youngest of whom would be continuing North after the fair to take the Black and become a member of the Nights Watch. Beside the Yohn's stood yet another example of true knighthood in the form of Ser Lyn Corbray, whose battle prowess was proven during the Rebellion when he managed to cut down a member of the Kingsguard during the Battle of the Trident. And beside the famed knight was his squire Mychel Redfort from House Redfort. And standing next to the young squire was a young man with pale skin and even paler eyes. Domeric Bolton, the son of Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort and current squire to Lord Redfort of the Vale. If there was one house which truly managed to set her nerves on edge in the North, it would be the Bolton's. The family that was once herald as the 'Red Kings' of the North were infamous across Westeros, and their bloody history with the Starks was equally as well known. She could only pray that the young man's time in the Vale had weeded out the less savory aspects of his family lineage.
Standing next to the visiting Lords of the Vale were some of the Northern houses that had arrived for her son's fair and nameday while he and her husband went to White Harbor to welcome back the sorcerer and his expedition. Of those present, the ones of most note were House Cerwyn, House Glover, House Forrester and House Whitehill. The latter of the two houses had to be separated by House Glover as there was a blood feud between the two houses almost on the same level as the one between House Blackwood and House Bracken. A feud which had only escalated as of late as one of the sons of House Forrester had been caught in a dalliance with the only daughter of House Whitehill and had been forced into exile. Almost every other House of noble standing in the North, with a few notable exceptions like the Reed's, would be arriving at some time during the week leading up to her son's nameday, but so far those were the only families to have successfully made the voyage.
"I haven't done that in years Uncle," Cat replied fondly as she tried to calm her aching heart, waiting for her children and husband to return to her. "They haven't been gone long, not even a full moon, yet it has been the longest time in my life."
"It's because you love them Cat," her uncle responded with a light smile. "And I must say, the North has done wonders for you my dear niece. Motherhood and your position as a High Lady have suited you like a well-tailored glove."
Smiling at the complement, she was about to respond when one of the bells near the East Gate rang loudly, signaling the arrival of visitors. "They're back," she smiled, feeling her heart race with joy as she placed a hand on Rickon's shoulder to calm the boy down. "Calm Rickon, your father, brothers and sisters will be here soon."
Looking up at her, her youngest boy gave her a grin that nearly split his face in two as he obviously fought a steadily losing battle to stay where he was. Keeping her eyes trained on the far side of the courtyard, her heart nearly beat out of its chest as she started to make out the first of the riders emerging into the inner keep with her husband in the lead. It was all she could do to keep herself in place as she watched her husband, his head held high and his back straight, lead the column into Winterfell with Robb and the sorcerer by his side. She wanted to run to him, to take him in her arms and taste his lips once more. To hold her sons and kiss her daughters an—
"By the gods old and new! What is that?!"
Blinking, her eyes flickered to her uncle, noting his wide-eyed expression and the fact that his hand had fallen to the hilt of his sword before turning back to her husband. And when she did, she saw what had put her uncle, and indeed almost every other soul in Winterfell, on such guard. For walking beside her husband was a beast, a beast nearly as tall as the warhorse her husband rode upon with grey-white fur and yellow eyes. 'A wolf!' She thought, her heart steadily racing as she tried to come to terms with just what she was seeing before her. 'No. Not a wolf. A – A direwolf! The very sigil of House Stark made flesh! And—And it's walking beside Ned as if it belongs there! What – What is going on!?'
The only thing that kept her from shouting at the top of her lungs for the men of Winterfell to cut the beast down where it stood was the fact that Ned didn't seem even slightly perturbed by its presence. In fact, none of the men with her husband seemed to be even giving the wolf a second glance! How!? How could they just ignore such a dangerous creature standing so close to her husband? To her children? She couldn't understand it!
Watching her husband with bated breath, Ned calmly got down off of his charger when they were but a few dozen paces away and calmly patted the wolf atop it's head like it was just a common dog before making his way towards her. "Lord husband," Cat said, just barely managing to keep her voice steady as the various Lords and Ladies of the Vale and the North bowed in greeting of the Warden of the North. "Welcome…home…"
The wolf had not stayed back with the rest, preferring instead to stay by Ned's side as he approached her and stopping only when Ned came within arm's length of her. "It's good to be back Cat," Ned replied, taking her in his arms and giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek as was suitable for public displays. As he pulled back though, he quickly noticed that her attention was not on him, but rather on the wolf that was now sitting back on its haunches and nearly as tall as she.
"This is Winter," Ned explained, taking her hand in his own and almost pulling her forward so that her hand was near the beast's snout. "We found her and her pups on the road being attacked by a stag. Nox killed the stag and I – well bonded with her. She and her pups will be staying with us from here on. Winter, this is my wife, my mate, Catelyn Stark. Treat her as if she were an extension of me. And this is Rickon, my youngest pup."
Cat honestly thought that her husband had lost his mind, talking to a wolf as if it were just another one of his vassals. But surprisingly, the wolf almost seemed to bob its head as if it understood her husband perfectly before giving her hand a lick and then proceeded to do the same to Rickon, only this time the wolf caught her young son in the face with her tongue, bringing on more than a few squeals of laughter before bouncing off back towards the carriages and wagons. "Blackfish," her husband called out, breaking her out of her stupor as he greeted her uncle with a firm grasping of the arms. "It's been many years."
"Aye it has Lord Stark," her uncle replied, "and I must say, that is certainly an entrance to be remembered. Returning with the very sigil of your house. A creature long thought lost or that could only be found North of the Wall is extraordinary. Though I mu-"
"Pups," Cat murmured, catching the attention of her uncle and husband as she finally started to regain her wits about her. "You said, pups. What pups?"
Her question was answered as she watched the lead carriage be opened by her eldest with Jon and Nox standing right beside him. The moment the door was open, several little pups jumped out of the carriage and immediately started playing with one another. And then her eldest daughter emerged from the wagon a small grey wolf held tightly in her arms as if it were a newborn babe. "Mother!" Sansa laughed, all but running towards her with the young wolf pup cradled in her arms. "Isn't she precious! I named her Lady because she's a true Lady! Just like me!"
Cat honestly thought her heart was going to stop as she watched her eldest daughter, her perfect little lady, cuddling a pup that, while small now, would one day grow in size to potentially rival the beast that had walked beside Ned just a moment before. 'Gods! How will she control such a beast? It will be larger than her in but a few years! And Rickon, Bran, Arya…did Ned give each of them a pup as well? How will they control them?'
Her question was answered almost as soon as she thought it as she watched Arya and Bran bounce out of the carriage and immediately start playing with the yipping pups that were dancing around the legs of the men at arms of House Stark and Manderly. Rickon, unable to hold it in any long, bolted from her side and joined his siblings in playing with the wolves.
"By the gods," she heard one of the Northern Lords, Lord Glover she believed, gasp as he came to realization of some sort. "There are six pups…and six children of House Stark! Surely, this is a blessing from the gods of the North!"
Cat's heart soared at the words of the Northern Lord. A pup for each of her children. A direwolf pup. The very sigil of House Stark. Could this…Could this truly be a sign from the old gods? It had to be. But as quick as her elation came, it went as she fully caught on to what Lord Glover had said. Desperately, she counted the wolves playing around her children. Then she counted them again and then again. But no matter how many times she counted; it always came out the same. Including the pup in Sansa's arms, there were six pups playing in the yard with her children. Six. Not five. For there was one wolf, the smallest with a pure white fur that, while playing with its littermates, stayed mostly along the edges. Right next to the legs of Jon Snow.
'No!' she nearly wailed. 'Do the gods of the North truly mock me so? Is this their vengeance for not fulfilling my promise to them? Is this a sign of things to come? Why? Why do the gods mock me so? Why does the bastard son carry the Stark likeness and now gain the loyalty of a direwolf? Something that should only belong to those of House Stark! Why? Have I not started to atone in the eyes of the gods? When will enough be enough?'
"Cat?"
Giving herself a shake, she sent a grateful glance towards her uncle. "I'm fine, Uncle," she replied, doing her best to hide her anger and disappointment that the bastard would be as honored by the gods as her own trueborn children. "Just…surprised by, well, them."
Her Uncle nodded with understanding as he turned his attention back to the column that had just arrived. "I don't think the surprises are through just yet, Cat. You might need to have a talk with your son soon given the look in his eye."
Frowning, Cat turned her attention back to the lead wagon. Nyra had exited the wagon and was currently clutching tightly onto Lord Nox's arm. Her well rounded belly announcing loudly and clearly to those few who still did not know that she was indeed with child. And given the way she held onto the sorcerer's arm, there was little doubt on just who the father was. But that wasn't what had caught her uncle's eye nor made hers narrow. For there was a second girl that had exited the wagon. One that her son Robb was escorting forward along with Sansa. A girl with darker skin as if she were from Dorne. Immediately, her thoughts went to Ashara Dayne and the rumors that she'd heard of late, on how the woman was the supposed mother of Jon Snow. And that thought brought along another wave of jealously and a slight touch of fear. Had her son fallen to the same vice as his father? Were the men of the North so weak willed to the loose nature of the Dornish? Gods, she hoped not! Her son was just turning three-and-ten this week! He could not have done something so stupid yet. Could he have?
"Mother," Robb greeted her, letting go of the girl's arm. "This is Lady Talisa Maegyr of Volantis. She came back across the Narrow Sea aboard the Sea Wolf with Lord Nox and will be staying with us in Winterfell as she studies with Lord Nox and the other students at the College."
'Volantis?' she thought with a start as she felt both relieved and worried. 'Why is girl from Volantis here in the North? And the way Robb introduced her as a 'Lady', does she have noble blood in her? Is she truly here to study at the College under the sorcerer? Why? Surely, they have schools in Essos the girl could learn at if she so chose. Despite it being quite improper for a high-born lady to pursue such a future.'
Straightening her posture as much she could, she fixed the young woman with her best 'Lady of Winterfell' face. "Welcome to Winterfell, Lady Talisa Maegyr," Cat greeted the young woman, who couldn't be more than two years older than her son. "I hope that you find your stay here at Winterfell…enlightening."
The young woman didn't even bat an eyelash as she curtseyed in response to her greeting, completely unfazed at her look. "I believe I shall, Lady Stark. And I thank you for allowing me to stay with your family while I am here. Your sons and daughters have been a delight to be around since we left White Harbor."
"Talisa is absolutely wonderful, mother!" Sansa gushed, looking towards the older girl with shining eyes. "She's been telling us all about her home the whole way here! It sounds amazing! Well…despite the slavery thing and – oh! I'm sorry! I meant no offense, Talisa!"
"There was no offense Sansa," Talisa responded, making Cat's lips twitch as she noted that her daughter and the older girl were not addressing each other properly. "Indeed, the slavery of my homeland is the main reason I left in the first place and decided to come to Westeros. I wanted to be free of the vile practice."
She could hear many of the Lords present mumble in agreement to her words. How? How could she be winning the Lords and Ladies over so quickly?
"Talisa is really smart, and brave too, mother!" Sansa continued to gush as Ned left her side and started to work his way down the line of visiting Lords and Ladies in order to greet them all personally. "She helped Lord Nox develop a cure for greyscale! They even cured Lord Baratheon's daughter, um, Shireen! Yes, they even cured Shireen of greyscale on their way home! And after the Wildlings attacked us on the road, she didn't even hesitate to get out and help with the wounded despite all the bloo-"
"Wildlings?!" Cat gasped loudly, drawing the attention of just about everyone in the courtyard with her raised voice as she rounded back towards Ned. "What Wildlings?! And what attack?!"
Robb visibly winced, as did Sansa, who suddenly seemed to find the ground very interesting. "Um, I, uh, was supposed to let father tell you about that."
"It wasn't that big of a deal, mother," Arya replied, almost making Cat jump in shock as she hadn't even been aware of her youngest daughter's approach until she'd spoken from her place than a pace away from her. "Just a skirmish against some Wildlings. It was really boring too! I wanted to go out and fight, but Nyra and Talisa kept me in the carriage and only Robb and Jon got to fight them and then chase after them. I'm just as good as the both of them! Why couldn't I fight too?"
Cat felt her head lighten and the need to sit down, soon. "Robb… You…fought?"
"Aye," Robb, her eldest son and yet not even three-and-ten nameday, replied with a tone that betrayed his age. "The Wildlings attacked our people, my sisters and brother. I was not about to just on the side of the road and do nothing. Not when it is my sworn duty to protect the people of the North."
Cat would've swelled with pride at the conviction her son spoke with if not for the overbearing fear of what could have happened during the battle. But whatever she would've said was cut off when her uncle spoke up. "You're turning into a true man already. To have such conviction. Such a force of will at your age is commendable, nephew."
"Children," Cat cut in as she noted the confused look on her children's faces. "This is my uncle, your great-uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, the Knight of the Gate."
"None of that now, Cat," her uncle waved her off good naturedly, "I'm merely their uncle, nothing more and nothing less. And as for this young man, I can clearly see that he has indeed inherited the best of both his families already. He will make for a fine Warden in the North in due time."
Robb preened under the praise. "Thank you, Uncle. But it wasn't just I who fought. The men of House Stark and Manderly deserve most of the credit. As does Lord Nox and my father. They were the ones who rallied the defenses the moment the attack was launched."
"Do not undersell yourself, lad," Lord Royce cut in as he and his three sons joined the conversation. "Fighting Wildlings is no small feat. Be proud of what you did. And from what I hear, soon enough you will be the best sword in the North. Perhaps the whole of the Seven Kingdoms if anyone ever dares to challenge their arm against yours."
Again, Robb preened slightly under the praise of the legendary knight, but surprisingly he shook his head. "I'm afraid I will have to disagree with you, Lord Royce. If anyone has a chance of becoming a 'Sword of the North', it is my brother Jon. He was by far the better swordsman between the two of us before he left. And if anything, he has only gotten better, far better, during his brief time away."
"You say that your bastard brother is the better sword?" Ser Lyn Corbray chuckled. "A likely tale. No need to make him feel better about himself, young Lord."
"I'm not, Ser," Robb replied, shooting Ser Corbray a cold look that she had seen on his father's face one time too many. "Jon is by far the better swordsman. Perhaps the best in all of Winterfell, save for my father and Lord Nox. And he has already proven himself several times over. The most recent of which was when they stopped in Dorne and he handily defeated Ser Gerold Dayne in a duel. One that the knight broke the rules of by drawing live steel. Yet despite that, Jon still defeated him with nothing by a tourney blade." That drew several sharp looks from the knights of the Vale and the other Lords who were present.
"That boy…defeated Ser Gerold Dayne, the Darkstar?" Ser Corbray asked disbelievingly. "Well then, perhaps I shall have to test his arm myself and see if the title of 'Sword of the North' truly does deserve to be held by a bastard boy."
Cat could see that the words of the man were getting to her son. He wasn't breaking decorum by calling the boy what he was, but she knew that Jon's status was always a sore spot for both the boy and for Robb.
"Forgive me, my lords, I have been neglectful in my duties," she said quickly, trying to send a look towards her son to calm him down. "We are all introduced, and the servants are taking care of the carriages. Let us retreat back to the warmth of the Great Hall and I will have the servants send for some warmed ale."
"A fine idea, Cat," her uncle smiled before shooting a look at Ser Corbray that told the younger knight to tighten his lips without saying it. "Let's all get warm, my Lords. I don't know about all of you, but these old bones don't quite handle the cold like they used too. And while we do, my nephew here can regale us with tales about his first true battle."
Standing with his hands held tightly behind his back, Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock Tywin Lannister stood before his mantle as he let the warmth of the fire burning within warm him. To say that the last few days at the Rock would be interesting would be highly understating matters. His youngest brother Gerion had returned at the head of a dozen Lannister honor-guards after being pulled out of the ruins of Valyria by none other than the Northern Sorcerer himself. And despite not claiming any of the plunder that'd been taken from Valyria for his own, his brother did not return empty handed. Despite his many, many failures, he had managed to succeed in one aspect of what he set out to accomplish in that he managed to return Brightroar back to its proper place.
He'd hoped that after hearing that the Sorcerer had been successful in his expedition and even managed to rescue his wayward brother that Gerion would manage to claim some of what had been taken from Valyria. But his brother didn't take anything more than a potential sum of what the sorcerer had claimed. A total sum that Tywin was sure would be a vast underestimation of its true worth. Yet again, he had to hand it to Lord Nox for his excellent play. Instead of sailing to King's Landing himself to offer the expected tribute to the crown, he had instead given the tribute to Tywin's brother with the request that he deliver it. By having the tribute delivered in this manner, the sorcerer ensured that no 'official' inventory of the loot was ever taken by the crown. So Lord Nox could simply report whatever value he wanted to the crown when the tax collectors came. A shrewd move. And one Tywin applauded and cursed the man for.
A grand feast had been held to celebrate Gerion's return, as was expected, but personally Tywin found little to celebrate. His brother had returned and with his family's ancestral sword, but that had been it. The pride of the Lannister fleet, a fleet that was still trying to recover from the sacking of Lannisport by the Greyjoys, was lost. As was its crew. While the crew was replaceable, a ship on level with the likes of the Laughing Lion was extremely expensive and time consuming to construct. And then there was the decree that he returned with as well. A decree of legitimization for his daughter Joy from the oaf Robert himself.
Pulling himself away from the hearth, Tywin slowly paced over to his desk as his mind worked over how to salvage several plans that had been in the works and were now thrown off by that one piece of paper. Ever since he'd met Lord Nox on Pyke all those years ago, he had been focused on a single task. Bringing the Sorcerer's power under the control of House Lannister and solidifying the Lion's place at the top of the hierarchy of Westeros's Great Houses for years to come. Unfortunately, this task was proving far more difficult than he had ever imagined. The most obvious way to achieve this goal would be to have the Sorcerer breed into the Lannister line directly. But that was simply not possible due to unfortunate timing. Tywin only had one daughter, Cersei, and she was now married and Queen of Westeros. There were options outside of Cersei of course. Namely his nieces by way of his brothers Janei and Joy. But neither was a good option at the present time for the Sorcerer. Janei though was still but a babe, barely a year old now. Joy was closer in age, though not by much, but marriages with wider age differences had occurred.
His sister Genna was another option. But she was unfortunately wedded, bedded and mother to four children. And while the idea of disposing of her incompetent husband Emmon Frey and replacing him with the Sorcerer was indeed tempting, his sister was nearing the end of her child rearing days and was not the beauty that she had once been. A harsh fact, but one of life. And he knew that if he were to catch the sorcerer in such a manner he would have to do so with the pride and joy of the lionesses of Casterly Rock. So, while he wanted the power of the Sorcerer bred directly into the Lannister line, he unfortunately had to let go of gaining the Sorcerer through a marriage into the direct Lannister line.
But then he was gifted a second chance when the eyes and ears Tyrion had arranged to be put in place sent news of the Stark children, including the bastard son, not only having the same power as the Sorcerer but also of them being trained directly by the Sorcerer to use said powers. While the Sorcerer was the true prize, he would settle for a Stark child if they had the same power. And while many would obviously seek out to grab hold of the Heir, Robb Stark was the first one of the Stark children he eliminated from his list. As heir, Robb Stark would stay in Winterfell, and whoever married him would become the next Lady Stark, not Lannister. Which defeated the whole purpose of what he was trying to achieve.
Luckily, the Tully girl had proved herself quite fertile and had given birth to several options for him to choose from. The eldest girl was an attractive option. Word was that she was already turning into a beauty that could rival her mother and was every inch a Lady as any Lord could hope to obtain. A betrothal to Jamie would've been preferred, but his foolish son refused to step down from his position as a Kingsgaurd. His son had held such promise as a boy, but now he was little more than a disappointment as he would prefer life as a glorified bodyguard rather than take up the position his family needed him to.
For a time, he considered a marriage between the eldest Stark girl and Tyrion, if only so that the two could produce a child while he was still alive for long enough so he could groom a proper heir. But that idea was dismissed almost immediately as he doubted that anyone would ever willingly enter a betrothal with Tyrion. Not unless Tywin offered terms that were insulting to House Lannister. His nephews were an option as well, and he had plenty to choose from. Kevan had sired three sons in Lancel, Martyn and William while his late brother Tygett had managed to sire a single son: Tyrek. But that would require him to name one of them as his official heir, which was something he was hesitant to do as he still held out hope that Jamie would come to his senses.
But there was a problem with the eldest girl. While she was apparently the picture of a future Lady, word from their spies said that lacked in the one area he wanted. The eldest girl did not join her brothers and sister in their training under the sorcerer. Whether it was because she simply did not have the power or that she was giving into her mother's ridiculous teachings of the Seven, he didn't know. All he knew was that of the Stark children, she was either the weakest or completely powerless. While the eldest girl not being what he wanted was disappointing, there were still options. And this was where the second daughter came in to play. Word was that the second daughter had no problems regarding her sorcery. And while the eldest Stark girl might be shaping up into an ideal future Lady, the younger Stark girl was said to be Lyanna Stark reborn. An interesting prospect to be sure. But again, trying to arrange a marriage would require him to designate an heir. So as unfortunate as it was, he placed the Stark girls as a secondary option for now.
Which brought him to his ideal target, and why Joy's status as a bastard had been so important to his goals. Lord Stark's bastard son was the favored student of the sorcerer, so much so that the Sorcerer had recently named Jon Snow as his Apprentice. Which, according to his brother, was akin to a knight naming a squire who was sure to become a knight of the realm. Both Jon and Joy were close in age, enough so that no one would even think twice about the two becoming wed. And they were both bastards, which meant that they were malleable to where they would make their home. He'd been planning on offering terms to Lord Stark for a betrothal between the two, which would include petitioning the King for legitimization for the two of them, raising them to the ranks of noble Lord and Lady and granting them Castamere and the surrounding lands. The castle was still in ruins and flooded, but it would serve as a good test for the boy to see how he would turn the castle around. And to ensure that the power of the Sorcerer would enter the Lannister mainline, he would put in the contract that the first-born girl of their union would be betrothed to the heir of Casterly Rock. While this method was not expedient, it would ensure that within the next two-generations that the line of Sorcerers would be bred into House Lannister. And while it was more than likely that he would not be around to see his plan come to fruition, he would lay the groundwork for House Lannister to become the unquestioned power in Westeros.
But now that plan was now faltering on a knife's edge. Joy's legitimization made it so that it would no longer be a betrothal between two bastards, but rather between a legitimized daughter of House Lannister and a bastard. And while he did not care for the opinions of the sheep, the image of such a union reminded him far too much of what his father, the 'Toothless Lion', had done when he married his sister to that foolish Frey. But there was still time to salvage it. All that was needed was for the boy to be legitimized as well. Which, if he were being completely honest, he was surprised had not already happened. The boy was the Northern Sorcerer's Apprentice, had bloodied himself against bandits in the North, had ventured into Valyria and returned to tell the tale and he had bested an anointed knight in single combat quite easily. And not only that, but apparently the boy now wielded a sword which was like the Sorcerer's, if only a different color. With such a reputation at such a young age, the boy had more than earned his legitimization. And Stark was the King's brother in all but blood. So, the question remained: why did Robert hesitate? He didn't want to throw his word in to get the boy legitimized, as that could truly tip his hand to the realm, but he might have no choice soon. Especially with the tale his brother brought back about their brief stop at Sunspear in Dorne.
'The Martells,' Tywin frowned, sitting down and staring blankly off into the distance as he thought about just what his brother had told him regarding the events at Sunspear.
Apparently, Snow had been training in the yard with Oberyn Martell's squire when the two caught the eye of Princess Arianne Martell. The two then proceeded to have a friendly competition, which Snow ended up winning. However, word of what was going on got out and soon they had attracted quite the crowd. And after the two had finished, Ser Gerold Dayne had proceeded to slander the Martells and the Princess. Snow defended her honor and fought the man and beat him soundly. Earning him the attention of Princess such that she even danced with him that evening and spent the next several days in his company almost exclusively.
This situation was perhaps the most worrying to him. Arianne had but three years on the boy and was reputed to have grown into a beauty that men would do anything for just to have her grace them with a look. But most concerning was that she was still un-betrothed even though she was approaching her six-and-ten name day. And the ruling Prince or Princess of Dorne taking a bastard as their consort was not without precedence. Was this Doran's plan? Use his daughter to ensnare the Sorcerer's prized pupil and gain his power and the potential support of the North? The two kingdoms had already established a very profitable trade in the last few years. Was that how Doran came to learn of the boy's power? If the Martell's gained the power of the Sorcerer and made a full alliance with the North, then Tywin knew that House Lannister's position would be threatened. If such a situation were to come to pass, he would more than likely have to arrange a situation where Clegane would be unknowingly offered up as a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter to sate the Martell's quest for vengeance.
And that was not a situation he wanted to place himself in. He would make sure to cover his tracks well, but if it ever came to light that he sent his best enforcer to die just to please another House then the reputation of House Lannister would once again fall. And he could not, and would not, let that happen. Which meant that he would have to try and move quickly to secure the boy. He could send a letter directly to Stark offering the betrothal, but he doubted that he would receive a favorable response. Much as a squire was usually not marriageable until they achieved knighthood, he assumed the same was true for anyone that was apprenticed to the Sorcerer. Not to mention, Stark's foolish honor would not allow him to see past what happened during Robert's Rebellion and what he'd done to ensure Robert's future reign as King was secure. No, the best option would be for the boy to approach his father and request the betrothal. But that...that was difficult to achieve. He could send Joy north with the hopes that she could catch the boy's eye, but she was still but a girl and wasn't ready physically or mentally ready to seduce even a boy on the cusp of manhood. Which left him in quite the quandary.
"Milord. Lord Kevan, Lady Genna, Lord Tyrion and Lord Gerion are here to see you."
"Send them in," Tywin responded to the guard just outside, not bothering to rise from his seat nor to turn towards the door.
In short order, his siblings and his remaining child made their way into his solar before closing the door to ensure that they had privacy. "Well brother, here we are, one big happy family again." Gerion commented dryly as he flopped, not sat, flopped, down into one of the chairs available. "Is this where you tell me where I'm such a disappointment again? Only this time for not bringing back more than just our family's sword from Valyria? Or is this when you tell us all your grand scheme to sell my daughter like a two-stag broodmare?"
"Gerion, shut up." Genna countered, slapping their brother on the back of his head with a firm hand before taking the seat next to him, leaving Tyrion to hop up onto another as Kevan preferred to remain standing for now. "I would've thought your ill-thought-out venture to Valyria would've matured you."
"Oh, it did that dear sister and more," Gerion countered back, rubbing the back of his head. "It's why I've spent the entirety of the day with my daughter, trying to make up for the shit of a father I've been too her. And that is how I discovered the rather peculiar nature of her education. An education which emphasizes Northern Houses and traditions. An addition that was apparently ordered by you, dear brother. And given just how well we all know you; it was not difficult to connect the dots and figure out your plan. I can even guess that you were going to offer Castamere as an incentive. Tell me I'm wrong."
Tywin had to give his brother credit for figuring it out so quickly. Not that he would say it aloud. Anyone who bore the name 'Lannister' should've been able to figure out his endgame. "We all have a duty to our House, including Joy." Tywin responded, looking directly into his brother's eyes. "A duty that has become much more apparent with her legitimization. And as you already seem to know what I am planning, then tell me this. Can you name a better candidate for your daughter's hand? If so, then I would hear it now."
He knew the argument was over the moment his brother didn't immediately respond. "Gods damn you, Tywin. You haven't changed at all," Gerion growled. "She's only eight for god's sake."
"She will not be wedded until the appropriate time," Tywin countered back. "But setting up a betrothal is not outside the norm. And yes, I do intend to offer them Castamere as a test to see how the boy can handle himself."
"But a bastard marrying a legitimized Lannister," Tyrion chirped, a smile playing on his face. "Dear father, what will the—how did you put it? How will the 'sheep' react to such a development?"
"The boy will be legitimized soon enough," Tywin shot back. "It is a wonder the King hasn't already done so before this. But once word spreads of his actions, then he will gain his legitimization. And it will no longer be two bastards marrying, but rather a Stark marrying a Lannister."
"That is provided that Lord Stark even allows his son to be married to a Lannister," Tyrion pressed further, making Tywin want to grind his teeth. "We Lannisters are not thought of all that well in the North. And lest we forget, it was Lord Stark himself who was the first to speak of Jamie's new moniker. A moniker which has stayed with him to this day."
Tywin did not need to be reminded of that fact. "Joy will play on the boy, and through him we will get to Stark. But first, we must get Joy to Winterfell. The eldest girl, Sansa, is entering the age to obtain handmaidens. We shall send an offer to Stark for Joy to enter her service."
The plan was sound enough, but as soon as his intentions were announced he noticed something. A tightening around his brother's eyes. "You have another idea, Gerion?" Tywin asked, turning to his brother with a look that demanded he speak up.
"Damn it all, Tywin," Gerion growled. "Yes, there is another way we can send Joy to Winterfell. As an acolyte to the sorcerer."
That brought Tywin up short. "Explain."
Sighing, Gerion scratched at his hair. "I wanted to wait longer to see if I can confirm it, but there is a chance that Joy might have the same type of power that Nox has."
"Joy can use magic?" Tyrion asked, sitting up in his seat straighter. If there was one thing that could make Tyrion pay attention to something it was anything that dealt with the arcane. Or whores. "How do you know? She hasn't shown any such powers before."
"Because, according to Nox…I had the same power as well. Or at least the capability of learning how to use the same power as he." Gerion admitted, though he did not seem enthused by the prospect.
'He said he 'had the same power', not that he has. Meaning that this magic power can be lost.' "You have never shown anything like what we witnessed Nox wielding Gerion," Tywin stated with narrow eyes, wondering if his foolish brother had managed to pull the wool over his eyes for years. "How can you be sure that Lord Nox wasn't just humoring your dreams of glory and honor?"
"One, those dreams died the moment I was shipwrecked in Valyria," Gerion shot back immediately, meeting Tywin's hard glare with one of his own. "And two, Nox isn't one to lie, at least not about this. And before you jump down my throat, like usual, I spent a lot of time learning as much as I could from the sorcerer about his power. Hells, I'm willing to bet that I've learned more about the sorcerer and his power in the little more than a month I've spent with him than you have in the years you've spent trying to dig up any scrap of information you can. Now, do you want me to tell you what I learned? Or are you just going to continue to berate me for hours on end?"
Leaning back, Tywin motioned for Gerion to continue. As galling as it was to admit, his brother had a point. He'd spent years and thousands of gold dragons trying to uncover as much information as he could about the sorcerer. And in the end, he had barely enough to fill a single sheet of paper for all his trouble. Gerion however had spent over a month on a single ship with the man. His insight could prove invaluable.
"For starters, Nox does not call his magic, well, magic. He instead calls it the 'Force'. Think of it like a giant lake and those who can use it being the rivers that are fed from said lake. One cannot simply learn how to use the Force; you are either born with the ability to wield the Force or you are not. And just as all men cannot be as strong as your monster Clegane, not everyone who can wield the Force can do so in equal measure. The measure of an individual's strength is something Nox calls 'Force Sensitivity'. The greater and individuals Force sensitivity the stronger they can become. And it seems to be that those that are trained can tell if an individual has any Force sensitivity just from looking at them, though how I have no idea. And just to let you know, Nox took careful note of both you and Kevan back during the Greyjoy Rebellion and, these are his words, you two have the Force sensitivity of a stone."
Tywin did not appreciate the thought. The fact that House Stark could be considered superior to House Lannister in anything was an insult of the highest order. Which was why he was so focused on introducing this power into the Lannister line.
"Yet, you apparently do have this power, Uncle," Tyrion noted, scratching at his chin. "How?"
Gerion shifted his weight as he continued. "Sheer luck, and that is the best answer that I can give. If two Force sensitives have a child, then it is almost guaranteed the child will be Force sensitive as well. The same is true if only a single parent is Force sensitive, though Nox did note that if the Force sensitive is on the weaker side then the odds of any offspring with a non-Force sensitive individual goes down to about a flip of a coin. However, there are rare, and he stressed rare, occurrences where two non-Force sensitive individuals will give birth to a Force sensitive one. So, in all honesty, it was sheer luck that I was apparently born with these powers and the rest of you were not."
"Yet, like our brother said Gerion, I've never seen you do anything that this sorcerer is rumored to be able to do," Genna added, bringing the conversation back around. "Why is that? Surely, you haven't been hiding this magic, have you?"
"No, I haven't sister," Gerion replied. "Apparently if an individual who is born with these powers never receives instructions on how to use them, it is probable that they will live their entire life in ignorance of what they can do. And according to Nox, this instruction must occur while the individual is still young. Why I'm not entirely sure, but Nox said that it has to do with the mind of a youngster being able to adapt more readily to this power. If they too long to learn how to use the Force, then it is possible for the power to go dormant."
So they were on a timetable then. "So, because you apparently beat the odds and were born with the ability to use this 'Force', then it is likely that any offspring you have will be able to use the Force," Tywin summed up. "Which is why you believe that your daughter might be able to use the Force. Is there a way that you can tell?"
"No. Not unless she does something obvious right in front of me," Gerion answered with a sigh. "The only one who can tell right now is Nox. And perhaps Jon Snow as well. If Joy does have the ability to use the Force, the only way to find out will be to send her to Winterfell and have the sorcerer test her. And if she passes his tests, then she will need to remain in Winterfell in order to learn how to utilize her powers."
The information was quite promising. Sending Joy to Winterfell with the intention of her becoming one of the sorcerer's acolytes was an easy method for getting more Lannister eyes on what was going on in the North and gain an insight into Nox's methods. And sending Joy North to be tested wouldn't be without precedence either. Lords and Ladies from across the land had been throwing their sons at the sorcerer for years, hoping that he would take an interest in them. And from the stories he'd told so far, Gerion apparently had a report with the sorcerer. Both angles would need to be leveraged to get a Lannister a prolonged stay in Winterfell. And this also provided him with another opportunity as well. But the plan wasn't without risk. It would have to be firmly installed in Joy's mind that no matter what, family came first. She was a Lannister. Not a Stark or a Nox. The last thing House Lannister needed was for one of their own to turn their back on them.
"You will send a raven to the sorcerer in the morning, Gerion, informing him of your intentions on bringing Joy to the North to have her tested to see if she has this 'Force'." Tywin ordered. "And you will go with them, Tyrion."
"Me?" Tyrion gaped like a fool. "Why? Not that I'm complaining, bu-"
"You've proven yourself to be quite clever over the past few years. Now I am giving you a chance to prove just how clever you are." Tywin cut in, not wanting to listen to Tyrion stutter. "The North has grown substantially in wealth over the past few years due to various exports that they have begun crafting in mass. Their glass production is their primary source of coin, but they have also made a significant amount off their new smelting process, their exotic food production and now this new medicine that can apparently cure greyscale. During your stay in Winterfell while Joy is being tested by the sorcerer, you will do everything in your power to learn what you can of these new processes and bring them back here to Casterly Rock so that we can begin duplicating them."
Tyrion bit his lip in a nervous tell that he would have to eliminate soon if he was to be of any use in the future. "That is quite the task. You're asking me to all but steal the secrets of the sorcerer."
"Not steal. House Lannister does not steal. We are merely going to begin our own processes using what the Starks have spent years of effort and coin on to create." Tywin countered. "House Lannister must begin seeking ventures outside of our mines if we are to retain our position."
It was a piece of information that Tywin did not want to share, as it would project weakness to the other Houses. But none of their gold mines had managed to find any new significant veins of gold in years. House Lannister wasn't broke, not by a long shot. But the staple upon which their House had risen to power was no longer as easily to obtain. He'd put a great deal of effort into making sure that this knowledge did not become known and for years he'd been successful. But it would only be a matter of time before word got out. And once it did, House Lannister needed to be known for something other than their gold mines if they would survive in the long run.
"Well," Tyrion breathed, slapping the arms of his chair. "I suppose I will need to begin crafting quite the story to spin if I'm to slip one past Lord Stark and Lord Nox. Any ideas?"
"I'm sure that you will figure something out." Tywin replied dismissively. "Now leave me. I have work to be done and am losing light. Gerion, I want to read over the raven you will be sending to the sorcerer and Lord Stark when we break our fast in the morning."
Used to his dismissals, his siblings and Tyrion all immediately got to their feet and left. But despite what he'd said to them, he did not start working right away. Instead, he allowed a slight grin to appear as he thought of the future. 'Joy will succeed. That girl has always been different. And now I know why. She will spend a few years learning what she can from the sorcerer, and after she flowers, I will send her instructions to begin seducing the boy Jon Snow using any means necessary. They will wed. And she will start giving birth to children that will have this power, this Force. And then House Lannister will rise higher than ever before.'
But as pleasant as the thought was, it was still just a single plan. And Tywin was not one to place all his coin on a single plan. He needed a backup plan as well. And a third plan as well. He would not rest until this strange Force power resided within House Lannister, where it belonged.
Standing upon his balcony in the Sorcerer's Tower of Winterfell, Nox let his senses wander over the bustling courtyard below trying to take a moment to just relax. The past week since they'd finally returned to Winterfell had been a whirlwind of never-ending exhaustion for both the inhabitants of Winterfell and its visitors. The fair had gone over well, almost unbelievably so. Small folk from all over the North had made the journey to Winterfell, lured in by the prospect of being able to showcase what they could do in front of many different Lords and perchance even earn the Lords and Ladies of the North favor. A feeling that was heightened when Robb announced that the small folk would be able to partake in some of the games that would be held during the week. Which had led to a truly surprising development as a simple woodcutter from the lands of House Glover defeated the Greatjon himself in a log throwing contest. Instead of being offended though, the Lord of Last Hearth had instead invited the man and his family personally to the great hall that night to feast and drink and celebrate the man's victory.
Outside of the games though, there was unfortunately little that the small folk offered in terms of advancements. One netmaker woman had crafted a new weave, which increased the tensile strength of the fishing nets, allowing them to garner a greater haul before breaking. And another man from the lands owned by House Karstark had shown his idea for a gravity fed watering system for smaller farms. Both useful, but hardly groundbreaking. At least to Nox anyway.
The one that had really caught his eye however was a family from the lands of House Forrester. During the previous winter they had stumbled upon a sweet maple tree and had begun harvesting its sap after they discovered that it was edible. After a few years of experimentation with the aid of House Forrester, the family was able to create a rudimentary simple syrup, which was an immediate hit with the Lords and Ladies. A sweetener, any sweetener, was a highly sought-after commodity. And therefore, it was expensive. With but a single taste, Ned had offered the family whatever assistance they needed in order to expand their work and begin the process of planting more of the trees that created the sap.
While the presentations of the small folk were only mildly interesting at best, the same could not be said of the presentations given by the students of Winterfell's college; led by Samwell Tarly and their newest member Talisa Maegyr. Talisa's presentation had been easy enough for Nox to predict. The lady from Volantis had presented her and Nox's cure for greyscale, including going into an in-depth explanation of the how and why it worked, which he was sure went over most of the assembled nobles' heads. But while the specifics may have gone over their heads, the implications did not. Greyscale was considered one of the worst, most contagious sicknesses in all the known world. To have a cure readily available was astounding.
Samwell, the other students and Maester Luwin had all worked together to present the second display the College put on. Well before he'd left for Valyria, he'd planted an idea into Samwell and Luwin's head about gears and automation. And he was more than pleased to see that the two had taken to the idea like a fish in water. And in less than seven months, the group had gone from theorizing to creating a basic steam engine in the form of an atmospheric engine. The engine itself stood over two grown men tall and required specific timing to work the values in order to introduce the steam and to vent the steam so that piston would move. It was rudimentary, but a huge step forward. At least to Nox who could understand its worth anyway.
The nobles were not all that impressed at first. All they saw was an overcomplicated system to move a pump handle up and down. But then Luwin and Samwell showed how the machine could create a pump system to help clear water out of mines. That had garnered some interest, but it was when Samwell showed off their last invention that the full implications of the steam engine could take hold. Sam had created a bicycle. Or rather quad cycle as he had modified a small one-man wagon for this demonstration. He'd crafted a gear system over the front axel of the wagon, which was connected with a chain to a secondary gear that was had a pair of peddles on either side just beneath where the wagon driver would sit. After situating himself in the wagon, and with no small amount of effort, Sam had managed to get the wagon moving forward without a horse, using the power of his legs only by peddling.
After displaying the moving wagon, Luwin then went on to explain how the gear system worked and why it could move without horses. And then presented what they were hoping to achieve in the long run. They were hoping to work on bringing the steam engine down to small scale and then attaching it to a wagon that had the gear system on it. The piston of the engine would then be used to 'peddle' the wagon. And once they could achieve that, they would have the first horseless wagon. Capable of continuously running if there was enough heat and water to keep the piston moving.
The idea of a horseless carriage completely floored almost everyone in attendance. And almost as soon as the presentation was finished, the members of Winterfell's College were bombarded with questions from the nobles as they all but demanded to know when the first working unit would be available and how they could go about procuring it for themselves.
'A definite step in the right direction,' he thought as he let his senses wander over the steam engine, which was still garnering a lot of attention from just about everyone even days after it'd been displayed. While Nox had planted the original idea for the steam engine in the minds of his students before he left, he honestly couldn't take hardly any credit for its creation. While he knew the basic principles of a steam-piston engine, the design was just too..simple. He was used to working on the level of technology that involved hyperdrive engines, not simple machines that had been outdated for potentially tens of thousands of years. But now that they had created the very basic of engines, he was ready to offer a few ideas for modifications that would increase efficiency, decrease its size and increase its output. The only problem was, as it was with the original concept of the steam engine, it was still too simple. He would be able to present the ideas, but it would be up to Luwin and the students of the College to truly figure out how to put them into practice.
With all the presentations shown and the offers from the various Lords and Ladies having been made, the fair was steadily winding down. But that didn't mean that people were leaving. Not yet anyway. For there were still two more events that the nobles and small folk alike wanted to either attend or even just catch a glimpse of. One of which was Robb Stark's nameday celebration, which would be happening in two nights and would mark the end of the fair. But the other event was the one that would be taking place tonight. Nox's wedding to Nyra.
Despite having asked her weeks ago for her hand and with the day now upon them, Nox was still trying to wrap his mind around just how they got to this point. When he'd first met her years ago, he'd found a keen mind just waiting to be unleashed. And the fact that she was just a mere servant was all the better. By taking her under his wing and raising her to the rank of a pseudo-noble, he had instilled a sense of hope into the small folk that if they worked hard that they too could reach her level. And his plan had worked. The small folk all looked up too and admired Nyra for all that she had accomplished over the years. Sure, there were some that still whispered she was nothing more than a 'noble-hunter', but she didn't let those comments get to her. She knew who she was, and she wasn't about to let anyone's thinking change that. It was one of the many qualities that had attracted him to her in the first place. And now, here they were, seven years after their first meeting about to officially become husband and wife.
The small folk were not the only ones who were excited about the marriage either. Almost every Lord and Lady that was visiting had taken the time to congratulate them both. Some more enthusiastically than others as Nox was sure there were more than a few sore Ladies that were still holding out hope that he would pick them as his bride. But of all the enthusiastic reactions, none was greater than Sansa's. The eldest daughter of Ned was practically swooning every time the marriage was brought up. No doubt that to her, this seemed like the greatest romantic fable come to life. A sorcerer who comes to a foreign land, makes a name for himself, earns a title, raises a mere serving girl to the rank of a noble lady, and then takes her as his wife. It was fairly cliché and romantic now that he thought about it.
Sansa had been having the time of her life this week working with Nyra, and to a lesser extent Lady Stark, to plan out every facet of the wedding celebration. She'd even taken to personally sewing Nyra's maiden's cloak and the cloak that Nox would put on her shoulders at the conclusion of the ceremony. For her cloak, as she did not have a House, the grey wolf of House Stark was sewn onto the back, representing Nyra as a vassal to House Stark. And for Nox, his cloak had the black sun with the two triple-peaked mountains laying sideways, and old symbol for the Sith Lords that Nox had always taken a liking too. And outside of Sansa and the small folk, the bards were also having a field day with the wedding. He'd already heard at least two or three different traveling bards that'd come to Winterfell in hopes of coin by working on crafting a song to commemorate their union.
Sensing his Apprentice crossing the courtyard below with his brother, Nox focused in on the duo as they made their way towards the entrance to the catacombs. No doubt to meet up with their father and Lady Stark who had entered the catacombs just a few minutes prior to their arrival. 'It's finally time,' he thought, sensing the two descend into the depths of the Stark's final resting place. 'I suppose that I should get ready for the inevitable fallout then. Force only knows how Jon is going to react to what Ned has to tell him.'
Standing before the statues of his lost family deep within the crypts of Winterfell, Ned Stark was doing everything he could to try and calm his racing heart. It was no lie to say that he was dreading what was about to happen. In another life, he would've never even considered having this conversation at all to spare himself and others the pain that he knew it would bring about. But that was neither here nor there, and he realized now that his refusal to speak would've been worse than not speaking at all. 'Father. Brother. Sister,' he thought to himself, staring at the three Starks that lost their lives during the fall of the Targaryen reign. 'Give me strength and guidance to find the words that need to be said this day. And may one day may my family find the strength to forgive my silence.'
"Ned?"
Swallowing, Ned turned his gaze away from the statues of his family and found his wife of the past three-and-ten years standing just a short distance away from him. The soft glow of the torches illuminating her face. Gods, she was indeed beautiful. Even after all these years. "Cat," he nodded, not sure what further to say as she came up beside him and glanced towards the statues depicting the lost Starks.
He knew, just like the godswood, that Cat never truly felt comfortable down in the crypts. Though why, she would not say. And, if he were being honest, this was not necessarily the place he wanted this conversation to take place. But in all of Winterfell, there was no better place for such a discussion to occur. With very few exceptions, no one save for the Starks were allowed into the crypts. And with so many of his bannerman around, this was the safest place to speak freely. 'I almost considered waiting until they all left before saying what needed to be said,' he thought, glancing towards his father. 'But I know that if I did, then when the time came again, I would simply find another excuse to delay this. No. It is far better for this to happen here and now rather than later. The boys are old enough. They will understand. As will Cat. I hope.'
"Ned," Cat called out softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"
"Aye," Ned nodded, trying to draw strength from the simple gesture, fearful that once he'd said his piece that it would be sometime before he could feel such comfort from here again. "Though for how much longer that will remain true, I do not know."
Pulling away from his wife, Ned turned and faced down the path leading towards the surface as he felt, and heard, his two sons approaching. 'Such a strange sensation,' he thought as he watched Jon and Robb slowly approach himself and Cat. 'To be able to feel when someone you know is close without having to see or hear them. Truly, this power Nox has awakened in the North is indeed a gift from the gods.'
"Father, mother," Robb greeted the two of them with Jon staying just slightly behind him. "Is everything alright?"
"Aye," Ned nodded, a weight heavier than the Wall itself pressing down on his shoulders as he realized he now had nowhere left to turn. It was time to reveal the truth. And may the gods give his sons the strength to understand just why he did what he had.
"Then, what's going on?" Robb pressed. "Has something happened? Is the fair not going as well as you'd hoped?"
"No. Your fair is exceeding my expectations son," Ned replied, trying to reassure Robb. "I asked you three to come and speak with me here because what is about to be said between the three of us must remain between us. Is that understood?"
Both of his sons blinked, clearly startled by the tone of his voice. A tone that he had never used in front of the two of them. Cat wasn't any better as she was clearly trying, and failing, to work out just why he had asked for them specifically.
"I swear on the old gods father, whatever you have to say will not leave us," Robb swore, with Jon mimicking his oath almost immediately.
Turning his head to Cat, he could tell that she wasn't pleased with what was going on, but she nodded her consent despite her obvious reservations. "There are truths that you three must know. Truths that have been hidden for a long time. Truths that once spoken, cannot be taken back. And should they leave the four of us, then it could spell disaster for not just us, but our family as well."
"Fa – Lord Stark," Jon corrected himself with a quick glance towards Cat. "Should…Should I be here for this?"
"Aye, you should Jon. For this concerns you most of all," he said cryptically before taking a breath and mentally preparing himself for the plunge he was about to take. "I have lied to you three and indeed the realm for three-and-ten years. At first, it was to protect our family and I swore that one day I would stop the lie. But as the years passed, it became harder and harder to say the words. It is only now, as you two are entering the cusp of manhood that I have once again found the strength to say what needs to be said."
Turning away from his sons and wife, he faced the statues of his lost family. 'Father, bother…sister. Give me strength.' "Jon, this truth revolves around you. For your entire life, I have claimed you as my bastard son. That was a lie. You have the Stark blood Jon. But you are not my son."
He could feel the air move as Catelyn gasped, her head turning rapidly from the statues of his family to Jon. Jon, though… Jon merely took a step back, unsure of what to say but a look of fear growing on his face.
"Brandon?" Cat stated. "He's…Brandon's son, isn't he?"
"No," Ned denied, the lump growing in his throat as he could feel the fear, the want of denial rising from Jon. "Jon is the son of my sister, Lyanna Stark."
The color drained from Cat's face as she quickly made the connection. Robb, still trying to work out the connection, kept looking back and forth between Jon and the statue of Lyanna. And Jon…Jon didn't say anything. Instead he backed away from Ned and the others until his back hit the far wall and he slowly slide down until he was on the ground and buried his head in his hands. "My…My father. He – He was…"
"Aye," Ned nodded. "Your father was Rhaegar Targaryen."
Ned had been expecting several reactions from Jon upon learning of his true parentage. Shouting and anger being the most prevalent among his reactions. But what he had not expected was for Jon to just simply sit there, as if his mind was no longer able to function. Marching up to the front of his sisters resting place, Ned went to one knee and began loosening a hidden panel at the base of her statue. Pulling it open to reveal a small hiding place, he reached inside and pulled out a small box. He knew without even needing to open it what was within. After all, he'd been the one to place everything inside years ago before sealing it away. Opening the box, he glanced at the various papers laying within before pulling out a thin leather-bound journal. His sister's last words to her son. She had left him a similar one as well, one that he had destroyed shortly after reading it for fear of it falling into the wrong hands.
"Your mother, my sister," Ned began, closing the lid on the box. There would be time for him to go through papers on another day. He could tell that Jon needed to see this first and foremost. "She left this for you, Jon. I don't know exactly what is within but… It is her last words to you."
Lifting his head from his hands, tears forming at the corner of his eyes, Jon stared at the small book in his hand. With a shaky hand, Jon slowly reached out and took the book from him, staring at the leather cover as if it were about to spawn two heads and start talking.
"Jon," Robb called out tentatively, talking a step towards his brother in all but name, "Jon, are you—?"
His question when unfinished as Jon shot up from his spot, almost running into Ned as he did so, before turning away from Ned and the others and all but running away from them towards the exit. His departure was so sudden and unexpected that neither Ned, Cat, nor Robb were able to stop him before he could disappear into the darkness of the catacombs. Robb was the first to come back to his senses as he began marching after Jon the moment he went out of sight.
"Robb…" Cat called out tentatively, bringing his eldest son to a halt.
"I'm going after my brother," Robb said with a conviction that Ned had rarely heard from his son. "No matter who his mother or father is, no matter his name or status, Jon is still my brother. And he will always have a place by my side. And I will always stay by his!"
Seeing that Cat was about to say something further, Ned shot her a look that stilled the words on her tongue as Robb continued to chase his brother out of the catacombs. 'That didn't necessarily go as bad as I thought. But it certainly did not go as I would have hoped. Though, from the look on Cat's face, it is far from over.'
With their son no longer in sight, Cat turned her full attention to him, her eyes and face full of hurt and anguish. "You lied to me Ned…for three-and-ten years you have lied! Why? Why did you not tell me? Why…just…why?"
"To protect him, and all of us," Ned answered without hesitation.
"To protect him and us?" Cat repeated. "From whom?"
"Robert, Tywin Lannister and anyone who would seek to use Jon to try and reclaim the Iron Throne for the Targaryen's."
Cat took a few long moments of silence to gather her thoughts as she visibly tried to work out what he'd said with what she knew. "I can understand wanting to protect him from Tywin and the loyalists, but why Robert? Surely, he would not have brought harm to Jon. In fact, had you just told the King about the boy, he could've ensured that no harm would come to him while removing him from the line of succession."
Ned wanted to smack his head against the stone wall of the catacombs. He loved Cat, she was a wonderful mother and a good Lady of Winterfell. But, gods, sometimes he feared that she was far too naive in some matters.
"You weren't there, Cat," Ned sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That day in the throne room when Tywin had the bodies of Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys laid out before Robert, covered in blood and wrapped in Lannister red. Robert didn't berate Tywin or even punish those responsible. He merely looked down at the three corpses, two of which were but babes, and smiled. Then he laughed. He laughed and said that he saw no babies, only dragonspawn. That they deserved to burn in all Seven hells just for the sin of being born! And that any and all born to the Targaryen line deserved the same fate, or worse!"
Realizing that his voice had been steadily raising, Ned took a moment to compose himself. Gods, over three-and-ten years later and the memory could still invoke an anger unlike any within him. "Robert loved Lyanna, or at least the idea of her. I'd even go so far as to say that he was obsessed with her. To learn that she'd had a child with Rhaegar Targaryen, he would've stopped at nothing to ensure that the babe was killed in the most violent manner possible. And how do you think the Northern Lords would've responded? There was already a growing discontent amongst our bannerman regarding Robert's behavior during the Rebellion. Everyone respected Robert's prowess on the battlefield, but off the field? He would continuously say that he was fighting to reclaim his lost love that'd been stolen by Rhaegar, but in the next breath he would be bedding every camp follower he could find. And then after the Sack of King's Landing, the fate of Elia and her children, coupled with Robert's unwillingness to punish those responsible, that discontent only grew.
"And Lyanna was beloved by the North, the 'She-Wolf of the North' they called her. If I had revealed Jon's true parentage, they wouldn't have cared for who his father was, though they would want to keep a close eye on him. They would only care that he was a Stark. Robert on the other hand…he would've demand that I hand the boy over to be killed. And what do you think my bannermen's reactions to that would be? They would promptly tell Robert where to shove his order and immediately take to arms, and the war would start anew. So yes, I lied. I claimed Jon as my bastard son to protect him from those who would seek to either use him or kill him. And I lied to prevent another war from starting."
Biting her lip, Cat went silent as she took in everything he laid out before her. "I – I understand, Ned," she breathed as a weight almost seemed to lift from her shoulder. "Yet what I can't understand is why you did not tell me? Even after all this time. Why did you keep this from me?"
"At first, it was because I did not know you, Cat," Ned answered honestly as he held up a hand to stop her retort so he could continue. "I had met you only once prior to our marriage at Harrenhal. And over time, I doubted whether I would ever even reveal this secret as it could potentially bring calamity down upon us. And should that happen, I wanted you and our children to be able to deny that you knew anything of my deception to save you. I realize now my folly, my love. And I pray that one day you will be able to forgive me."
Cat looked on the verge of tears, though not necessarily from sadness. "Then…you did not betray me?"
"No," Ned replied, shaking his head. "Ever since we said our vows and I put my cloak around your shoulders, there has been no other."
"What about…her?"
Now it was his turn to turn away. There was no need to ask just who Cat was speaking about. "No more lies, Cat. Ashara and I laid together at Harrenhal and I was going to write to my father once I had returned to the Vale to ask for her hand. But that changed when I married you. And I did not touch her again. And as far as I know, no child came of our time in Harrenhal."
He could hear Cat trying, and failing, to stifle her tears behind him. "I – Thank you, Ned. I – I need time, but…but I still love you."
Turning back, he gently wrapped Cat in his arms. She didn't respond, but that didn't surprise him in the least all things considered. "I understand, Cat," he nodded, stepping back from her. "Take what time you need. I will wait for you."
Nodding, Cat moved to step past him, only to stop. "What – What if Jon now decides that he no longer wants to remain here in the North? What if he wants the throne? How will you respond?"
It was a fair question, and one that Ned honestly did not have an answer to. But Ned had faith in his son. "Cat, think of Jon, not as a bastard, but as the young boy that has been raised alongside our children his entire life. Think beyond what you have been told as to the 'nature of a bastard' and think only of the nature that Jon has shown us his whole life. And then answer me this. Do you truly think that Jon would put his siblings' lives in danger just so that he could sit on the Iron Throne?"
Cat didn't answer, she just stood there beside him looking down the length of the catacombs towards the path leading to the surface. "No, he would not," she just barely whispered before marching away from him. "And I'll pray to the Seven that it remains so."
Kneeling in the middle of his private meditation chamber, Nox slipped into a meditative trance as he waited for the inevitable fallout from the conversation he knew that his Apprentice was currently having with his father. The moment he felt his sense's stretch out; he was almost immediately struck with a slight disturbance in the Force. The same type of disturbance that'd been plaguing him since they had banished the dark entity from Valyria all those months ago. It was an odd sensation to say the least. Like a bright spot in the corner of one's eye that would disappear the moment one tried to look for it. It'd been a persistent ache for him for months. And it had been creeping up with more and more frequency ever since they'd stepped foot back onto Northern soil. 'It has to be whatever controls these 'Others',' he theorized. 'I have a feeling that whatever these creatures are, they have some sort of Force sensitivity. They've more than likely sensed my presence the moment I crash-landed here years ago. And with the destruction of the dark entity in Valyria, which these Others clearly wanted to gain control of based on the vision I had, they now know that I'm a threat. But what is this annoying disturbance that just won't leave? It's a sense of danger but diluted. Unsure. Are they making their move? Perhaps. Which means getting the Wildlings south of the Wall before they can be eradicated and added to the ranks of walking dead the Others have at their command.'
His concentration was abruptly shattered and the vision was sent fleeing as the door to the chamber nearly came off its hinges as his clearly unstable Apprentice all but ran into the room. Anger, confusion and hurt screaming from every aspect of his being. "You – you knew!"
'I see he didn't take it very well,' Nox sighed as he got up to his feet and turned towards his irate Apprentice. "If you are referring to the fact that Lord Stark is not the man who sired you, then yes. I knew."
He could feel Jon's anger practically radiating off him. "How long? How long have you been lying to me?"
"Lying?" Nox questioned, shaking his head. "My Apprentice, I have never once lied to you. Have you ever heard me refer to you as Eddard Stark's direct son? Hm? No, I haven't. And as for how long I've known, I knew almost immediately that, while you two share a familial connection, you are not directly related. With that established, it took me all of maybe a week or two of reading through this land's recent history to figure out just who your mother and father were."
Taking a step back, Jon's anger faltered slightly. "You – you can tell that just from looking at someone?! Why haven't you taught any of us that skill?!"
"Because it is infinitely more complicated than simply 'looking at someone'," Nox sighed. "For starters, both individuals need to be side by side and both have a decent Force sensitivity for me to ascertain parentage or not. Then the two Force signatures will resonate with one another in a certain fashion. And the only reason I even know what to look for is because in the Sith Empire, one could rise from nothing like myself, Sith ancestry and family was highly coveted. And those who had the skill to sense the Force resonances between two individuals were treated almost like kings because they could tell familial connections and even ancestry to a certain degree. Lord Stark, despite his powers being most dormant, is strong in the Force. And so are you Apprentice. When you two stood next to one another that first time I met you both your presences echoed off one another in a familial fashion, but not in a manner that one would except between a parent and child who were both Force sensitive."
Leaving breadcrumbs for Jon to learn of a new skill was usually a successful method of dispelling this young Apprentice's anger, and it almost worked this time. Almost. "You still knew!" Jon all but shouted. "For years! You knew that I – that I wasn't a Stark! And you never told me! Why?"
"Would it have changed anything had I told you the truth of your parentage?"
"Yes!" Jon immediately shouted, to which Nox just merely stared at the boy, making him shift his weight. "It – It would've changed—"
"It would've changed what?" Nox pressed, stepping towards Jon, waiting for his Apprentice to come up with something. "You can't think of anything can you? Because it would've changed absolutely nothing. It's no different than when you thought you were just a 'bastard'. You are not defined by some name. You are who you choose to be. And you are still the son of Eddard Stark."
Jon scoffed and looked away, "he's not my father."
Nox moved without even realizing it, the back of his hand connecting with the side of Jon's head hard enough to send the boy into a spinning fall. To his credit Jon tried to retaliate, key word being tried. With how unstable he was it was easy enough for Nox to knock aside any physical or Force attack Jon sent his way. And in the end, Jon was planted face first into the floor with Nox's boot on his back keeping him in place. "Had enough yet?" Nox growled, putting more pressure onto Jon's back.
Jon didn't cry out, nor beg. Nox had taught him better than that. A Sith didn't show weakness from pain. Instead, Jon raised his right hand with his index and middle finger extended outwards. A sign of surrender. Removing his boot from Jon's back Nox squatted down in front of his struggling Apprentice.
"Eddard Stark, is your father Jon." Nox said in a lighter tone, trying to get through to the boy. "A father is not denoted by the one who shot his seed into your mother. A father is one who loves you and raises you as if you were his own son. Eddard raised you alongside your cousins and gave you a home. He taught you how to fight. How to lead. He taught you the difference between right and wrong. If anyone, especially Robert, learned that your father was harboring a child of the Targaryen's, let alone Rhaegar's child, their past wouldn't have saved him. He could've taken the easy way out. He could've left you in the desert or with some unsuspecting small folk or even sent you to another keep to be raised. Yet he didn't. Because he loved your mother, his sister. And he loves you as well. Not just as his nephew. But as another son. Never forget that."
The sound of sniffling came from Jon, making Nox's cheek twitched. He'd never been good with all this gentle emotion stuff. Never had the chance too even care about the softer emotions. But he was learning. First through Ashara, now through Nyra. He just hoped he wasn't screwing things up further. "Am I," Jon sniffed, "is this, all I'm destined to be? A burden? I – I never wanted to be…I only ever wanted to be a Stark. To – To make my f -father proud."
Sitting down fully, Nox let out a breath. "He is proud of you, Jon, as am I." Jon's head shot up at that. "Not many have what it takes to go through what you did under my tutelage. Yet you did. And you excelled far beyond my expectations. And as for a name, have I told you before how I came to the name Darth Nox? I had another name before that one. But amongst the Sith, once you reach a certain level you cast aside your old name, who you used to be. And you become someone new. The reason we do this is in part to show that our past doesn't matter. All that matters is who we have chosen to become."
Holding out his hand, Nox wordlessly summoned the book that Jon had had in his hand when he first entered. "From your mother I take it?" He asked, to which Jon nodded. "Read it," he ordered, forcing the book back into Jon's hands. "The past is important Jon. But only so much so that we may learn from our mistakes. We are not bound by the mistakes or sins of our forebears. Learn from what happened and move past it Jon. Otherwise you will always be stuck."
Standing, Nox purposefully turned his back on his Apprentice and made his way out of his meditation chambers. It was a strange sensation, this wanting to help his young Apprentice through his emotional troubles. But this was a battle that Jon needed to fight on his own. And he was confident that his young Apprentice would come out better for it in the end.
The sound of Master Nox closing the door was almost deafening as Jon now sat alone in his Master's personal study with nothing more than his mother's journals to keep him company. 'My mother,' he thought sadly, looking down at the seemingly innocent leather book barely larger than his hand. For so long he had only wanted to know one thing about himself. The one thing most could not answer and the few who could refused to do so. But now he knew. And knowing was almost worse than not knowing. When he didn't know who she was, he still had hope that he would someday meet her. That she would hold him in her arms and tell him how proud of him she was. But now, now there was no chance of that ever happening. Because she was dead. Dead and buried along with her brother and father down in the crypts of Winterfell.
Fighting through the pain of anguish that threatened to overtake him once more, he focused on the small journal on the table before him. It looked just like any other book one could read, but to Jon, this one thing might as well have been the Stranger himself in disguise. Would this tell him why she did what she did? Why a Rebellion that cost so many lives was started? Did…did he even want to know? Did she despise him because of - of who his father was?
'I won't know anything just sitting here like a lump on a log,' he thought, shaking his head and sucking in several deep breaths as he purposefully flipped the book open while the words Master Nox just spoke to him went through his mind. 'Move forward, Jon. To stay stagnant is to die. Learn from the past, but do not fear it.'
His resolve faltered as he eyed the seemingly neat yet still sloppy writing on the first page. 'My mother's hand,' he swallowed, his fingers tracing the letters as if they could connect the two of across the barrier of life and death that separated the two of them. 'Oh, for gods' sake, Jon,' he cursed himself as he realized he still hadn't read a single word on the page. 'As Master would say, 'man up or shut up'. Now, read the damn book!'
"My son, gods, that is odd to say. Even though you are still growing in my womb I feel that I already know so much about you. Well, I guess that I do. But most, well, probably all would probably think that I'm crazy for just why. After all, I've been locked in this god forsaken bloody tower for moons now with no one to talk to save for three Kingsgaurd who do rather impressive imitations of trees and, gods I'm rambling. You see my son, I've had wolf dreams, just like the Targaryen's of old use to have 'dragon dreams', the Starks frequently had those who could have 'wolf dreams'. And I guess I'm the lucky one that got saddled with this accursed power this time around. But it wasn't all that bad I guess. I saw you my son. I saw that you would be born a boy and that you would be raised with your cousins in Winterfell, our home. I saw what a brave and good man you will become. But this knowledge came with a great price. The price to know that I will not survive you coming into this world. And it is a price that I will gladly pay my son. And no matter what anyone might try to say to you, I will not regret paying this price. Because I love you. More than my own life. Because you are my life my son. Now and forever."
Pausing, Jon took a steadying breath. 'She – She knew that she wouldn't survive giving birth to me. And – And she didn't hate me. She didn't even know me and – and she said she loves me.'
"I supposed that most of this just sounds like the ramblings of a mad woman. And reading what I already wrote I would be ready to agree with you. But again, I've been locked in this tower for months on end with only my own thoughts to provide any meaningful company. So, I'm sorry if a lot of this won't make sense, but I want you to know. To know the truth behind what happened and the circumstances around your birth.
"Though, having said that I don't know where to even begin. I suppose I might as well start when I was still but a little girl in Winterfell. I was always, well, different from the other girls in the keep and Winter Town. I didn't want to do needlework or listen to poetry or any of those other 'lady-like' things our accursed southern-Maester insisted were proper indulgences for a Lady. I wanted to be in the yard training with my brothers and the guards. I wanted to go out hunting for deer or boar or whatever struck my fancy. I wanted to ride my horse to the ends of the land and sail beyond the Sunset Sea just to see what was out there. The last thing I wanted was a cage that so many girls wanted to willingly lock themselves in. But as I grew up, I suppose I came to realize that such fancies were not possible. Not for me at least. Nobility is a gift and a curse. A gift because we have privileges that others do not. A curse, we because we have expectations that we have to meet.
"And it wasn't just that proper 'Lady activities' didn't sound appealing to me that set me apart from the other girls. Around the time I started my moon blood (don't cringe son, it's a natural part of a woman's cycle and something that you will have to deal with in time) all the other girls started gushing about this guard or stable boy or perhaps even a Lords son or two. But I, I just wasn't interested in them. At least not like the other girls. They all wanted to steal kisses or perhaps more. But I just wanted to beat them into the ground to prove that I was just as good, no better, than them. And my thoughts weren't helped when I overheard two of Winterfell's guards talking about their recent trip to the brothel in Winter Town. By the gods, from the way they spoke they viewed the girls who worked there as little more than holes to be used and discarded. Now that I think about it, that might be a direct quote. And they weren't alone in their feelings. After hearing that, I began to sneak about more often, trying to listen in on more raunchy conversations. I was hoping that those two were the exception and not the norm. But nope. I was wrong. They were pretty much the norm. Even several of the Lords son talked about their wives, betrotheds or whores in the same manner. So, my opinion towards men got quite colored.
"Then came the day that I knew was coming but was still dreading with every fiber of my being. The day when my father pulled me into his solar to coldly and calmly informed me that within a few years, once I reached the age of ten-and-six and could safely carry a child to term, I would wed to Robert Baratheon, the heir of Storm's End and the Lord of the Stormlands. And then I was dismissed. Just like that, 'Lyanna, you will wed Robert Baratheon, get fucked by him, bare him a son and that is all. Leave.' Obviously, that wasn't the real conversation between myself and my father…but that was close. I spent the next two months coming to terms with what was to be my future. I had hope that, seeing as how Robert was a brother in all but blood to Ned that he would be a good man. Even if the idea of being with him, or rather any man, didn't sit well with me, if he was a good man then I could live with it.
"Then came the Tourney of Harrenhal. My father sent myself, Brandon and Benjen down to represent House Stark and we were to meet up with Ned and my future betrothed as well once we were there. When I first saw Robert, I can honestly say that I could somewhat understand why many a maiden seemed to be infatuated with him. He was tall, strong and I'd even go so far as to say that he was ruggedly handsome. Though I still felt no spark or interest in him when Ned introduced us. But he was pleasant enough and courteous. At least for a time. He said that he loved me, even though we'd never even met before this. That sent the bells off in my head. And the more we talked, the more I realized that he loved the 'idea' of me. Not me. I could tell from the way he looked at me, to the way he responded to all my interests that he loved the idea of 'claiming the she-wolf of Winterfell'. Not in marrying Lyanna Stark. And my dislike for him was set in stone that very night when he tried to force himself on me. Well, he didn't push for sex but, he was certainly insistent with his hands and mouth. And didn't stop until I firmly slapped him across the face and ran off.
"I told my brothers what had transpired, and Brandon looked ready to march off and kill the man. But Ned, the ever patient one of us, managed to talk our brother down. He explained that Robert had probably indulged a little too much with his drink, which didn't settle my thoughts at all. But in the end, I decided to give the oaf another chance and went to his tent to speak with him once more. That was when I found out he was with not one, but two whores. Whores that apparently looked a lot like myself judging by the way he kept calling them both 'Lyanna' and the way his men standing guard winced while I stood there for a time listening to his debauchery. After that, I realized that I was doomed to marriage with a man who was just like all the rest."
Jon's fingers curled around the edges of the book as he read through the passages, his anger spiking as he developed an urge to grab the fastest horse he could find in the stables and make his way down to King's Landing and become the second Kingslayer in less than two decades. Somehow, he managed to fight down the urge to gut the king and press on reading his mother's last writings.
"The next day was the start of the Tourney and, despite not announcing that he was even coming, the Mad King apparently decided to come to the Tourney. When I first saw the man, I almost asked Brandon why a beggar was masquerading as the King. His hair was long and disheveled, his fingernails almost impossibly long and he just looked wretched. In comparison his son, the Crowned Prince, was exactly what I pictured whenever I thought of the royal family. He was the first man that I considered beautiful. But he paled in comparison to his wife, our future queen, Elia Martel. She was beauty and grace personified.
"Outside of the Kings arrival, nothing else of note really happened till that night when I caught three squires beating up one of House Starks bannerman by the name of Howland Reed. I managed to chase them off with my name and tended to Howland personally. Howland said he didn't care about the beating, but I did. And as my father always said, the wolfs blood is strong in me. So, I did something that, looking back now, was insanely stupid. But also, the greatest thing I'd ever done. I managed to piece together a suit of armor. Then I rode out on a borrowed steed the next day proclaiming myself to be the 'Knight of the Laughing Tree' and challenged the three knights whose squires beat Howland the night before. And I handed all three their asses on a platter! But the thrill of beating them was dashed when the King demanded I remove my helmet and present myself. I couldn't let that happen so; I ran. I managed to ditch my horse and was in the process of throwing my armor into the Gods Eye when I was found. By none other than Prince Rhaegar, Princess Elia and two Kingsgaurd.
"I was done for, and I knew it. But then something I never expected to happen happened. Elia wrapped me in her arms and told Rhaegar and the Kingsguard to throw the armor into the lake and to never speak of it. The Prince even added that he would take my shield as proof of my fleeing. I was stunned. I didn't understand why they were helping me. But as the Kingsguard, who I later learned was Ser Arthur Dayne and Prince Lewyn Martell, threw my armor in the lake, Elia led me into an unused passage that led back into Harrenhal and proceeded to help me clean up and get changed.
"And that moment was the start of everything, both good and bad. I asked Elia why she was helping me, but she simply smiled and said that she understood what I was going through and that she admired me. Me! The Princess of Dorne and future Queen of Westeros admired me! And while I thought that after that one meeting, I would never see her again, I was wrong. For the next several days the Princess always seemed to be wherever I was, and she kept inviting me to have tea with her, or take a walk, or anything to really spend time with her. We talked, gods we talked a lot! And, and it was through her that I learned more about myself than I ever thought possible. I told her everything, my thoughts on my marriage and on men in general and she just stood there and took it all in. And in the end, she explained just why I was so different from all the other ladies. I was, to quote Elia, 'a ladies lady'. Or rather, I would prefer to be a man in the company of a woman rather than a woman in the company of a man. I didn't really understand what she was saying, but then she dropped a question that changed everything. She asked me if I had a choice, would I rather kiss and sleep with herself, or Rhaegar.
"And that was the moment when everything became clear. The reason why I didn't want to be with a man was because I wanted to be with a woman! I'd heard about such things of course, but…well…such behavior was not acceptable. At least in public. Except for Dorne of course. And the North was more, forgiving of such things. But there were still expectations to be held upon. And then, as if that revelation wasn't strange enough, Elia dropped another one on me as she admitted that she too was a 'ladies lady', and that her marriage to Rhaegar was more like a brother-sister relationship, though not in the Targaryen manner. Rather in the normal manner. And as I was still trying to recover from that piece of information, Elia leaned forward and kissed me! And right then and there, I was lost. Any doubts I had were gone. Gods, I still don't remember how it happened, but the two of us ended up, well, performing carnal acts right there in the godswood of Harrenhal! All I can say is, thank the gods that trees block out noise and that it was her uncle Lewyn that was guarding her that day!"
Having read that part, Jon felt his face flush and he had to readjust his pants. While the thought of his mother doing, well, that wasn't particularly high on his list to think about, that wasn't necessarily where his mind went. Rather, it pictured another Dornish princess locked in a passionate embrace with another woman! 'Focus, Jon!' he cursed himself, forcing himself to read on. 'I don't need to take care of that particular problem!'
"After that wonderful night, I knew that no matter what, the future I wanted was to be with her. Whether as her friend, lover, sworn shield or whatever, I didn't care. All I wanted was to be with her. And as if the gods were listening to my pleas, they provided one. After we woke up in each other's arms, Elia explained to me the true reason behind the Tourney of Harrenhal. Rhaegar was going to overthrow his father and take his place as King! And the Tourney was being held so that Rhaegar could meet with the High Lords of Westeros and garner their support. Though that plan was now on the wayside as the King had somehow caught wind of what might be happening and decided to attend unannounced, ruining Rhaegar's plans. But that was just one of the two primary reasons why the Tourney was being held. The second was that Elia and Rhaegar were trying to find a second wife for Rhaegar! Elia, with tears in her eyes, told me a truth that no one else in the entire realm save for a handful knew about. She was barren. Rhaenys was hers. But the child Aegon that was being passed off as her son was not. The true Aegon was a miscarriage. A miscarriage that cost Elia her womb. So, to make sure that Elia did not die on the orders of the King and to buy them time for Rhaegar to take the throne, they were passing off a serving girls child as the actual crown prince until the truth could safely be revealed.
"But Rhaegar still needed an heir. A male heir. Which was why he needed a second wife. And, as Elia put it, she would rather his second wife be a woman that she loved, rather than some cold-hearted bitch, and I could've sworn she said some name like 'Kersey' or the like when she did. Now I wasn't a complete fool. I was instantly crushed as I thought that Elia had only seduced me and used me to become a broodmare for her husband. But, and gods above I don't know how, but she convinced me that everything she said, everything she felt for me, was true. And, I don't know why, but I knew that she wasn't lying to me. She loved me, just as I had come to love her. I still love her. Even now after everything. And that will never change.
"When I had brought up the prospect of me giving birth and my, well, distaste for the thought of being with a man, she comforted me. She said that she would be with me always. And that, well, Rhaegar wasn't exactly like most men. He had needs to be sure. And he was not above seeking out a woman's company and that I shouldn't necessarily say I wouldn't like something until I tried it. But she reassured me that Rhaegar usually found solace in his books…or in the company of other men. Which was a thought I did not need. Not when I was still holding Elia's naked body close to my own. I then brought up my current betrothal, to which Elia merely laughed off. What father would uphold a betrothal to a Lord, even a Lord of a Great House, when he could instead have his daughter become a future Queen? In the end, I was convinced. And for the rest of our time in Harrenhal Elia and I spent almost every spare moment we could together outside of the public eye. This of course was made considerably easier as my dear brother Ned had fallen of the Wall in love with Elia's handmaiden Ashara. I can still remember walking out of Elia's room one morning, only to catch Ned walking out of Ashara's at the same time! Gods, I don't know who was more embarrassed! Luckily Ned bought my excuse that I was merely talking to the Princess after failing to find him. I love my dear quiet brother, but gods only knew what he would do if he knew that I had spent the night with said princess in the same manner as he'd spent the night with Ashara!
"But all good dreams must come to an end. And for me, and everyone else for that matter, that end came when Rhaegar won the tourney and, instead of crowning Elia like we had planned, crowned me instead! My brothers, not to mention Robert, were furious and the crowd was stunned. And the King, the mad bastard, just laughed at the mayhem his son had caused with his actions. Our retinue packed up and left that very day, heading to Riverrun where Brandon would be married to Catelyn Tully before we went back North to Winterfell.
"And after we left, none of the plans that'd been put in place worked as they should've. Rhaegar and two of the Kingsguard came and spirted me away from Riverrun, though why it had to be this way I still don't understand. But I made sure to leave a note in my room for Brandon explaining what was going on, and I even sent a raven to my father explaining that I was not going to be the future Lady of Storm's End, but rather the future Second Queen of Westeros. We stopped on our journey on the edges of the God's Eye and, after the Kingsguard managed to find a Septon, I married Rhaegar on the banks of the lake. Though I looked in Rhaegar's eyes and said the words making us husband and wife, in my mind and heart I was saying them to Elia. And I knew that she was doing the same. Then Rhaegar, well, claimed me. Only once and mercifully it was not nearly as horrible as I had thought it would be. We then made our way south all the way to the northern borders of Dorne to a tower that Rhaegar called the 'Tower of Joy', though I have truly found nothing but anguish here. It was all part of the plan to keep me safely away from those who would side against Rhaegar until he was King.
"We were at the tower for only a day before a raven arrived from King's Landing. My brother Brandon had, for some godforsaken reason, marched to King's Landing and demanded my return and for Rhaegar to come forth and explain himself! Apparently, he thought I was taken against my will. In response, the Mad King imprisoned my brother, killed his retinue that came with him, and demanded my father present himself to the court to explain my brother's actions. My father did as was asked of him and…and was murdered. As was my brother. On the orders of the King. And then as if that wasn't enough, he called my brother Ned and Robert Baratheon traitors and had sent orders that their heads were to be sent to him.
"I wanted to head north immediately and explain everything that had happened, damn the plan. It was ruined anyway. But Rhaegar wouldn't listen to me! He kept insisting that he couldn't just depose his father now. And then the next raven came, and with it any fantasy I had of Rhaegar being a good man was destroyed. My brother Ned, Robert and Jon Arryn had all risen in rebellion against the crown. Now I was frantic to get back and fix the mess that we'd caused. But Rhaegar…he wouldn't budge. Instead, he…well…he said that because my brother, Robert, and Jon Arryn had declared open rebellion against the crown, they were traitors and would be dealt with as such. And that he would have to head north to deal with them, but promised that, out of respect for the future mother of his children, that he would leave Benjen as the next Lord of Winterfell. And that should Ned survive that he would allow him to live out the remainder of his life at the Wall.
"He then followed that statement up by saying that, before he left, he had to make sure that his line was secure. That I needed to be pregnant. I told him that, if he was insistent on killing my brother after what his father did, that I would bite his cock off if it got even close to me! He then, gods, the look in his eyes. He told me that if I did not submit willingly, that he would have his Kingsguard hold me down so he could impregnate me and then he would end House Stark for good. But if I complied and provided him with his heir, then and only then, would he grant mercy to my brother Benjen. He said all of it so calmly, as if we were talking about the fucking weather! I had no choice and…I…gods…I didn't fight back as he took me over and over again. Two weeks later I missed my moon blood and a week later Rhaegar went off to war, leaving the newly arrived Lord Commander of the Kingsguard along with Arthur and Oswell behind to 'protect me'."
Feeling sick to his stomach once more, Jon pushed the journal away from him. Thinking he was just a bastard born from a moment of weakness was one thing. Knowing that he was born from rape was – gods that was infinitely worse! Even if he was technically 'trueborn'. The thought of just how he came to be sickened him and made him wish that his 'father' would come back from beyond the grave just so that he could send him back to whatever hell he was currently in!
"Despite how you came into being my son, I hold nothing but love for you. I fell in love with you the moment it was confirmed that you were growing within me. The sins of your father are not yours, my son.
"After the man who sired you left (I refuse to call him your father my son), my life became duller than dull. The only people I had to talk too were the three Kingsguard, none of whom I wish to even see, and the one serving girl named Wylla that Ser Arthur managed to get permission from Rhaegar to bring back from his home in order to help me as my pregnancy progressed. Wylla was nice enough, but I can tell that she is scared out of her mind. And it is no wonder why as the esteemed Lord Commander told her that should she ever breath a word of what was going on here that he would cut her down without hesitation. Such a wonderful man.
"For months I have been stuck with nothing to do but think and, well, talk to myself. But then the news came that had me just about on the floor laughing for joy. Rhaegar was dead. Killed on the banks of the Trident by Robert Baratheon! That act alone was enough to elevate the man somewhat in my mind, though I still didn't want him within a few leagues of me considering the way he acted the first time we met. With Rhaegar's death, the tide of the Rebellion shifted and the coalition of Northmen, Valemen, Riverlanders and those from the Stormlands started pushing the loyalist back all the way to King's Landing. I was openly praying to the old gods for my brother's success in dethroning the Mad King, something that I knew irked the Kingsgaurd, especially the Lord Commander, more than a little. Which of course only made me pray louder and more frequently!
"The next message that was brought to the tower however destroyed what little hope I had left in me. King's Landing had been sacked and the Mad King killed by his own Kingsguard. That news was cause for celebration, however – Elia…my sweet desert rose was murdered. Raped and murdered with the blood of a child still on her killer's hands. And her daughter, my soon-to-be unofficial daughter, was stabbed nearly a hundred times. And Robert, he laughed at their corpses! And my brother, my sweet Ned, did nothing! The one person who I had come to truly love, the one who explained to me just who I truly was and accepted me for it and even loved me, was dead! And no one seemed to give two shits about it! I just…"
The writing faded off as there were clear signs of water droplets having fallen onto the page and smeared the writing. 'Not water droplets,' he realized, feeling his own eyes swell. 'Tears. Tears for the woman she loved and the woman who was torn from her so violently.'
"Sorry, I couldn't write for a while after that. I thought I'd come to terms with what happened, but I realize now that I haven't, and I probably never will. But I guess this is it my son. Now you know everything that happened. Gods only know what people say happened during all of this, but I doubt it is the full truth. So, I guess that I need to end this as I don't really know what else to tell you my son. I just wanted you to know the truth of your birth and to let you know that even though bringing you into this world will end my life, I will gladly pay the price. I love you my dear son. I know that your uncle will raise you to become a good man. And I just want to say that, even though you have the blood of the dragon within you, you also have the blood of the wolves. And between the two of us, I know that the blood of the wolves is far far stronger than that of the dragon. And I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry that I won't be there to watch you take your first steps. I won't be there to listen to your first words. I won't be there to wrench your ear and tan your hide when I catch you with a young girl in some darkened corner. And I won't be there to watch as you cloak a young girl with whatever sigil you take for yourself. But even though I might not be there physically, I will always be watching over you from the realm of the gods, my little dragonwolf.
"Oh, one last thing. The man who sired you wanted you to be named Aegon. Well, I'd rather shit down my own throat than give two shits what that man wanted. So, I decided on a much more fitting name for you my son. Jaehaerys Targaryen, or Jaehaerys Stark, whichever you prefer. Or perhaps a new surname to make a fresh start. I'm sure you can guess my preference, but I want this to be your choice my son. Goodbye, my son. Live long and live well.
"Your loving mother, Lyanna Stark nee Martell nee Targaryen."
He read the last words ever written by his mother time and time again, trying to picture her sitting in that accursed tower, tears streaming down her face as she penned her last words to him. 'Jaehaerys,' he thought, his fingers tracing his mother's elegant, yet somehow still sloppy, script. 'My name, my true name isn't Jon Snow…but rather Jaehaerys. I, it's the name my mother gave me, and I want to honor her. But gods, I don't want anything to do with my father – no. Lord Eddard Stark is my father. Rhaegar Targaryen is merely the man who sired me. Nothing more.'
As he pondered this, a different thought occurred to him, something that Lord Nox had just told him. About how, when a Sith was ready, they would cast aside their old name and take a new one. The names were often given in relation to what they were expected to do or what they'd accomplished. But they also served as a means of severing their ties with their past and forging a new future for themselves. 'I can choose my name. Be who I want to be. Not who others want me to be,' he thought, finally coming to the realization of just what it meant. 'My names, Jaehaerys Targaryen and Jon Snow, in grand scheme of things mean nothing if I do not allow them to… Jaehaerys Stark…no. Not Stark. I, I might want to be a Stark. But, I – I need something new. What was it my mother called me? Dragonwolf? Yes. Jaehaerys Dragonwolf. That…That is my name. That is the name that I choose. That is who I will become.'
Moving to close the book, he realized as he flipped through a few more pages that there was a second set of writing on the back pages. Flipping the book open to the very back, he regarded the writing that stood in stark contrast to his mother's delicate hand.
"Your grace. Before you read further, please know that I have not read what your mother has left for you. That is for your eyes and your eyes alone. While I may not know the exact words that your mother used, I can guess. I know that my death is coming for me in the form of your uncle. Even now, while your mother labors to bring you into this world with but a single wet nurse for aid. I pray that your Uncle will arrive here in time and bring aid for both yourself and your mother, neither of you deserve this accursed fate that has been set upon you both. And I shoulder the blame for that. But the oath of the Kingsguard is both absolute and a crutch. I have done many terrible things and stood witness to more heinous acts than you can possibly imagine, unable to do anything as my oath as a Kingsguard prevented me from doing anything while my oaths as a knight, a lord, and a man demanded that I stand up and stop what was happening. It may sound odd, but I wish that I had the strength of will, the conviction, to do what Ser Jamie Lannister did when he ended the Mad King's life. I would've been put to death and called an oath breaker and kingslayer, but how many lives could I have saved had I done what needed to be done instead of what was easiest? It is a question I have pondered for months now. And I have not found an answer.
"Forgive my ramblings, my King. I have had so many doubts ever since I became a member of the Kingsgaurd. I thought that Rhaegar was free of his father's madness. But he wasn't…not entirely. He merely had a different form of madness. Obsession. Obsession with the prophecy of the 'Prince-Who-Was-Promised'. At first, he thought that he was the promised Prince. He dedicated himself to the art of a warrior in preparation for what lay ahead, even if he didn't know what it was. But then, one day, his obsession shifted. No longer did he think that he was the promised prince, but rather that the prince would be born directly of him. His son. And after speaking with his Uncle Aemon, who is a Maester at the Wall, he became convinced that his son needed to match Aegon the Conqueror exactly. 'The dragon needs three heads', he would constantly tell me. Elia gave birth to their first daughter Rhaenys. And when she was confirmed to be pregnant for a second time, he knew it would be a son. But then Aegon died a stillbirth and what was left of my friend died with him, though I did not know it at the time. He retreated into the library at Dragonstone for nearly a week. And when he emerged, it was with a revelation. 'Fire and Ice,' he kept saying over and over. 'We were sent for Fire and Ice. And through Fire and Ice shall the prince and his second wife be born'.
"I thought it mere ramblings, my King. As once we left Dragonstone with the fake Aegon, he never once spoke of it again. But now, now I realize. The Tourney of Harrenhal was indeed so that your father could gain allies so that he could overthrow his father peacefully. But it was also so that he could find a second wife with Elia's blessing to provide more children. I realize now that Rhaegar had purposefully targeted Lyanna Stark. This was not known to Elia, who I feel truly had come to love with the she-wolf. Everything was seemingly going to plan, but then everything fell apart so quickly that we were not able to recover. Rhaegar showed himself no better than his father as he raped your mother several times a day to ensure his seed took hold in her womb. Gods, I wanted to split him in half the first time I had to stand and listen to him forcibly take her. She was but a girl of six-and-ten! But my oaths to the Kingsguard prevented me from doing anything. Then Rhaegar left and died. Then Elia and her daughter died. And now your mother lay on the birthing bed with naught but a single wet nurse to aid her, and I fear she will not survive you coming into this world.
"I ask—no, beg—for your forgiveness, my King. Even though I know that I do not deserve it. Forgive me for being a weak man, unable to do what was right and who instead let my oaths bind me into inaction. Ser Oswell Whent is of similar mind. He truly liked your mother. He enjoyed her wit and northern forwardness. And I know that listening to her screams and tears cut him far deeper than a sword ever could. We both wished we could stay by your side as your Kingsguard, or even your friends should you decide you not want the throne. But we know that we do not deserve such an honor. Death is the only thing we deserve. But while we have too much stubbornness to simply die, we will both meet our end at the edge of Ice when your Uncle arrives. It is no less than we deserve, and I could never harm the man that my sister loves more than life itself. Even if he has been forced to marry another, despite everything that happened.
"One last thing, my King. I know that these events have more than likely colored your opinion of your father's family. But I beg you to not remember the Targaryen dynasty and your ancestors based on the few bad apples. There were just as many good and just kings during the Targaryen Reign as there were bad. Perhaps more so. And if you truly need confirmation of this, I implore you to seek out your Great-uncle Aemon Targaryen at the Wall, provided he still lives. He will be able to tell you much more than I. Live long and live well, my King. Whether as a King, pauper, or knight. I know that you will do well in life.
"Your loyal Kingsgaurd, Ser Arthur Dayne."
Not able or willing to read any more, Jon closed the journal and buried his head in his hands. The past half a day had been the most turbulent of his life. First, he found out his father wasn't his true father. Then he learned that his mother was dead. Then he read her last words to him and learned that while he wasn't a bastard, he was a child born of rape. Then the words of Ser Arthur, the Ser Arthur Dayne, the man he had always looked up too as an idol. Well, learning that the man he had tried to emulate his life had stood outside the door while he listened to his mother be violated time and time again. Gods, how was he supposed to deal with this?
"Jon?"
Jerking, he just barely managed to stop himself from drawing his lightsaber and turning it on Robb, who had somehow managed to enter Lord Nox's private meditation chamber without him even realizing it. Nox would've tanned his hide or made him run till he dropped from exhaustion for such a lax in awareness. Hell's even Ghost and Greywind had managed to get in with Robb without him noticing. "Robb," he gulped, not even sure where to begin.
Robb approached him slowly, his eyes shifting towards the book laying closed before Jon. "Are you alright brother?"
"Brother," Jon hiccupped, the one word meaning more to him that anything, "am I? I'm…I'm your cousin. A cousin brought about by rape thought justified because of…I don't even know what my…father thought justified it."
The chair next to him scrapped across the floor as Robb sat down beside him. "You might be my cousin by birth. But you're my brother by choice Jon. Hell's, we've been through everything together. The first memory I have you are in it. And when your cock got hard for the first time you came to me in fright. And father, he's still our father. Regardless of who sired you or…or how you came to be."
Chuckling through the sadness within him, Jon lightly knuckled Robb's shoulder. "I thought you swore on the old gods never to talk about that again."
Laughing, Robb knuckled him back. "I swore I'd never speak of it to anyone else. I never said anything about when it was just the two of us. And besides, you know just as many embarrassing stories about me, perhaps more."
"Yeah," Jon nodded, his mood lightening. "Does Lady Stark still not know about the whore that Theon snuck into your room just before we left? The whore you couldn't do anything with."
"Hey, I was ambushed," Robb countered. "How would you react if you walked into your room after a long day and found a naked woman kneeling on your bed saying she was there for whatever you wanted?"
Jon didn't need to imagine. Princess Arianne had pretty much done the same thing. And he hadn't reacted any better than his brother had. But he wasn't about to admit that to Robb, not yet. So, he was going to tell a little lie. "Oh, I'm sure I would have handled it better than you, Stark."
"Really?" Robb countered as look Jon did not care for entered his eye. "Are you sure, brother? Cause Dacey told me the most interesting story about how you escorted Princess Arianne back to her room. And how after you left you were in a complete daze and, well, you know the reputation of the Dornish. Did she show you her appreciation for defending her honor in the yard, brother?"
"Careful, brother," Jon said, cursing Dacey in his mind and starting to try and plan his revenge on her. "Or I might just arrange something similar for you with Lady Talisa."
"Hey, hey, she's off limits and – oh, you…" Robb tapered off as he realized he'd walked straight into Jon's trap. "Fine. She's, gods I've never met anyone like her. She's smart, almost ungodly so. And she acts more northern than most northern ladies I've met! And her skin, her eyes and that hair of hers…alright so she's been featured in my dreams more than once since we've met. So what?"
"No judgment, brother," Jon nodded as he watched Ghost and Greywind play around the room. "I can understand where you're coming from. The difference between us is you might stand a chance with Talisa. Arianne, she's a princess and I—"
"You're the Apprentice to the Northern Sorcerer, a son of the Warden of the North, a brother to the future Warden of the North and you have the blood of two of the oldest and most well-known families running through you." Robb said, fixing him with a look that brokered no argument. "Yeah, there's absolutely nothing there to make you a decent match for a Princess from Dorne."
Smiling, Jon gave a thankful nod to Robb. "You know, Arianne might have said something similar. She said, well, I – gods. Alright, she said that it wouldn't have been unheard of for a Princess of Dorne to take a bastard as her consort."
Smiling, Robb gave him a nod. "Well there you go then Jon. It seems like you have a far better chance with your lady then I do with mine."
"And what about Theon?" Jon asked, scratching at the back of his head. "I mean, I might not always get along with him but…hells he's our brother also."
"Yeah he is," Robb nodded. "Hmm, that's a good question. We'll have to find a lady from somewhere far to the south, that way it can be a complete southern invasion on the purity of us poor Northern boys."
"Not sure there's much purity left in Theon regarding women," Jon laughed. "Not if even half of the stories he's told us about his exploits in Winter Town are true."
"Half, at least," Robb laughed.
Feeling the tension leaving him, Jon nudged the book with his hand. "Do you – Do you want to know what she said?"
He could see Robb's throat move as his brother stared at him. "Yes, but only if and when you want to tell me, brother. And not a moment sooner."
"I do…just…not now." Jon sighed. He knew he needed to talk about it. But, for just a short time, he wanted the words to stay private between him and his mother.
"Then when you're ready," Robb nodded before clapping his hands and standing. "Well, now that that's all out of the way, let's get to the baths. We need to get ready for Lord Nox and Lady Nyra's wedding tonight. And gods help both of us if my mother or, gods forbid, Sansa finds even the slightest fault in either of our appearances. I swear, with the tear that our sister has been on since the announcement back in White Harbor you would think that she would be the one getting married today."
"One would think," he agreed, rising to his feet and taking the book with him. Walking over to the one section of the wall, he held his hand out and used the Force to unlock a hidden compartment in the wall that could only be opened with the Force. Giving the journal one last caress, he carefully set the book inside and closed the compartment up tight. "Well, Robb, let's go get sheered like the sheep our sister seems to think we are."
"Not sheep, brother," Robb laughed, slinging his arm around his shoulders as the two walked out of the chamber with their direwolves nipping at their heels. "Wolves."
The slight chill of the Northern air was almost calming as Nox stood before the weirwood tree within the heart of the godswood of Winterfell. A calmness that he was in almost desperate need of. Some may find it odd, or even ridiculous, that a Dark Lord of the Sith, a Darth in rank, and a Member of the Dark Council could feel even the slightest hint of nerves. But in this time and place, it was all Nox could do to remain firmly planted to the ground beside Ned Stark, the man who had quickly come to be one of his few true friends, along with dozens of other Lords and Ladies from the North and the Vale as they waited for the woman who would soon become his wife to emerge from amongst the trees.
"Relax, friend," Ned said quietly out of the corner of his mouth as they waited for Nyra to appear. "Enjoy this moment while you can, for the wedding will be over quickly enough and you will only be able to wish to repeat the events over and over again. Trust me, I know from experience."
Nox was about to respond, but his words died in his throat as two people made their way from the trees and into the clearing between the rows of those assembled. Robb Stark stood tall and proud; the sigil of House Stark clearly displayed with the pin on his chest as he walked forward. And on his arm was the woman who would soon be Nox's wife, Nyra. And Force, if there was ever a divine entity, he swore that it'd descended and blessed Nyra. She was breathtaking. The white dress and fur that hugged her curves beautifully. The white maiden's cloak over her shoulders and her dark hair woven into an intricate braid and slung over her right shoulder. Force, she was beyond beautiful.
"Who brings forth this woman before the gods and men today to be wed?" Ned's strong voice called out, almost startling Nox, he'd been so focused on Nyra that he hadn't even realized that her and Robb had crossed the distance separating them and were now standing before the weirwood.
"I, Robb Stark, Heir of Winterfell, do hereby bring forth Nyra, vassal of House Stark, to be wed this day."
"And who accepts this woman before the gods?"
"I, Lord Alim Nox, do hereby take this woman, Nyra, vassal of House Stark, to be wed this day," Nox answered Ned's question, taking care to ensure that his voice was loud and steady.
Motioning for Nyra to take the last step forward, Robb let go of her before retreating to join Jon and his siblings, while Nox held out his hand for her to take. Nyra's presence was radiating pure joy and light as she grasped her hand in his and stepped even with him. "Nyra, vassal of House Stark," Ned spoke loudly, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips as he placed a single hand atop of theirs. "Do you accept Lord Alim Nox as your husband, from this day forth and until you are reunited in the realm of the gods?"
"I do," Nyra responded, her head held high. "He is mine and I am his. From now and until we are reunited in the realm of the gods."
Turning his attention to Nox, Ned placed his other hand underneath their joined hands so that he was holding them together. "Lord Alim Nox, do you hereby accept Nyra, vassal of House Stark, as your wife, from this day forth until you are reunited in the realm of the gods?"
"I do," Nox said, feeling a joy he had not felt ever in his entire life as the words left him. "She is mine and I am hers. From this day forth until we are reunited in the realm of the gods."
"Then kneel before the gods and may they recognize your union," Ned said, stepping aside so that the two were left with an unobstructed view of the carved face of the weirwood.
While Nox was not of the faith of the North and would've perhaps preferred a different ceremony, Nyra was very much of the North and the faith of the old gods, even if she agreed with many of his views on the Force. And this ceremony was for her. Everything now was for her. So, with their hands still tied together, Nox and Nyra knelt before the weirwood tree and bowed their heads before rising once more. "Lord Nox, you may remove the cloak of Nyra, and place upon her shoulders the cloak of your house. And with this cloak comes your solemn vow to take and protect her, now and forever."
Letting go of her hand was one of the most difficult things he had ever done. Unclasping the cloak at her shoulders, he gently removed the maiden's cloak and handed it off to Sansa, who'd stepped forward to accept it with tears of happiness running down her face. Undoing his own cloak, Nox wrapped the heavy black fabric around Nyra's petite frame, signifying that she was no longer a direct vassal to House Stark, but rather the Lady of House Nox.
"Lord Nox, Lady Nox." Ned spoke, his voice gradually rising in pitch as he did. "You have come before the old gods and have sworn yourself to each other. And now I, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North, do hereby proclaim you to me man and wife! May no man tear asunder what the gods have brought forth and witnessed this night!"
The cheers of the crowd were almost deafening, but Nox didn't care as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Nyra's, sealing their bond. But as he pulled back, the cheering abruptly cut off into gasps. Nyra, both physically and in the Force, was glowing. To everyone save for Nox it might've looked like she was being blessed by the gods, but Nox could see what was truly happening. For there was a second presence that'd made itself known and was blessing their union as well. 'Ashara,' Nox thought, reaching out for her presence and feeling a warmth in response. She was gifting Nyra both her blessing and protection through the Force. 'Thank you.'
The lingering presence of his lost love flared once more in comfort and warmth before fading, the light that'd been around Nyra dissipating slowly until it disappeared completely. "Fucking hells!" Greatjon Umber bellowed, slapping a massive hand to his equally massive thigh. "The sorcerer is a true Northman now! And Lady Nox, blessed by the old gods themselves! Now what are we all standing around here for? There's a feast and drink to be had!"
Sweeping Nyra up into a bridal carry, Nox pressed a quick kiss to her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you, my lovely Lady Nox. My wife."
Her joy was almost blinding as she tucked her head onto his chest as he walked out of the godswood with the Lords and Ladies of the North and the Vale following behind. "And I you, my husband."
The next several hours passed in a blur for Nox as he and Nyra sat in a place of honor within the great hall of Winterfell while a feast unlike any Nox had ever experienced since coming to this strange land took place. There were several different animals roasting on spits within the fireplaces all around the hall. Wine and ale flowed freely and there was a sense of revelry that Nox would not have expected of the usually serious Northern people. It seemed that when the people of the North found an excuse to celebrate, they did not do it in half-assed. Jon, Robb, and Theon were both being permitted to drink undiluted wine, in a limited quantity of course, but given their age it certainly hadn't taken long for both boys to go red behind the ears. And they'd even managed to get Samwell Tarly to down a full cup of wine, which of course was almost enough to do the boy in as he quickly ended up on the floor giggling while the other three laughed at his antics.
By the time the younger children were put to bed, an exodus which had been started when Lady Stark had announced that it was time for her children, save for Robb, to head to bed, all four boys were well on their way to being drunk. Of course, they were relatively tame in comparison to some of the others in the hall. He wasn't quite sure just what had started it, but the Greatjon and Maege Mormont had at some point in the night started a drinking competition, and now Nox was seriously starting to wonder if they would run out of wine before either one or the other would concede defeat. And there were more than a few of the younger men that were chasing anything with a skirt around the hall. Though, to be fair, it seemed like there were quite a few women who were chasing the men as well. The atmosphere was such that Nox was relatively sure that there would be a 'baby boom' within the next year given how many in attendance were pursing such delights.
Feeling the night starting to wear on him, not to mention the persistent ache that hadn't left him since this morning, Nox wrapped his arm around his wife and leaned in towards her ear. "Have we stayed long enough for propriety's sake, my love?" He asked, nipping at her ear slightly. It had to have been the wine. "As beautiful as you look in that dress, I would much rather show you my true appreciation for your beauty in private."
Blushing fiercely, Nyra nodded as a servant placed a new chalice of wine down on the table next to him. "Aye, that we have. Let us finish this wine and retire so that, well, so that we can show each other our appreciation more appropriately."
Nodding, Nox picked up his wine and downed most of it while Nyra slowly sipped on her own. "Ned," Nox called out lowly, getting his friends attention. "Not to break with tradition or anything, but Nyra and I are going to slip out here. Like hell am I going to let a bedding happen."
Smiling, Ned nodded. "Aye, I can understand the sentiment, my friend. Enjoy your night together."
Feeling more than a little warm, Nox took Nyra's hand in his own and got to his feet. And then promptly almost collapsed as his legs didn't seem to want to support his weight. "Gods, husband," Nyra chuckled with him as she somewhat supported his weight. "Just how much have you had to drink tonight? I surely do hope you haven't indulged yourself to the point where you will be unable to perform your husbandly duties."
"There is not enough wine or ale in the world that could keep me from performing that duty my wife," Nox laughed, though on the inside he was confused. How out of practice was he that such a relatively small amount of wine as he'd drunk tonight was enough to put him in this state?
Rising to his full height, he almost immediately collapsed again. "Gods, maybe I – had more than I thought," he laughed, his throat suddenly parched as he searched for a glass of water to try and gain his wits about him.
Coughing again, he started to feel something was…off. It started low in his gut, then it exploded. Doubling him over in agony he hadn't experience since he been under the Overseer's watch in Korriban. Letting loose a hacking cough, Nox frowned as he felt something wet leave his lips. 'Spit? No,' he wondered, confused as to what was happening. 'Blood. My blood…What…?'
The pain intensified again, doubling him over and making him almost collapse onto the table. "Nox!" Nyra screamed as his Force Vision started to waver.
'What – Poison?!' he realized as he started coughing up globs of blood onto the table. 'The…The warning! It – It was not about the darkness! It – Shit!'
Something hard and sharp pierced through his shoulder, nearly spinning him around as his shoulder was thrown back. 'A…bolt?' He realized as he could feel the bolt still quivering in his flesh, 'how…when…shit!' Throwing his arm out in front of Nyra, he let out a pained yell as the crossbow bolt that'd been intended for his wife's heart imbedded into his outstretched forearm. "Run!" Nox yelled with a pained cough as his vision darkened even further while all around him the great hall which had once been a sight of joyous occasion turned into pandemonium.
