II. Truthseeking
No sword ever felt right in his hand ever again.
Jon's uncle, Arthur Dayne, had once been known as the Sword of the Morning. The finest blade in Westeros, despite having peers like the White Bull and Barristan the Bold. Every single person in Starfall, from the lowliest serving boy to Lady Ashara herself, knew his advice on swordsmanship as gospel. Even Jon did, but ever since that night he just couldn't follow the very first tenet Uncle Arthur had taught him.
"Your sword is your arm. A swordsman forsakes flesh for steel."
Jon had almost gotten that lesson down. Had. After he found a good short sword fitted to his size, he had begun approaching that vaunted point. But ever since that night, every sword Jon picked up felt like he was holding an ungainly slab of metal. His uncle assured him that it was simply because he was weak and out of practice, but as the months dragged on, there was no change.
Everything else in Jon's life proceeded apace. He had his lessons with the Maester in the afternoons, studying the geography and history of Westeros. He learned about the history of Starfall and Dorne, of the wars of the Stone Kings and Sand Kings; Of the countless battles fought in the Dornish Marches against the Gardener Kings and Storm Kings; Of the fall of the Rhoynar and the arrival of Nymeria's ten-thousand ships - some vaguely familiar, feeling of longing stirred within him at that point, but he quashed it. It was a bright day, and Jon wanted the lesson to be over as quickly as possible. He wasn't about to interrupt Maester Lycran in the middle of his ramble.
He learned of Aegon Targaryen's descent in fire upon Westeros, the Dances of the Dragons, all the way up to Robert Baratheon's rebellion. Maester Lycran seemed to want that topic over with as fast as possible, simply detailing the battles that had been fought.
Jon was still an excitable nine-year old, however. "Which one did Uncle Arthur fight at?"
The Maester stuttered, "I- well- I think you should ask your Uncle yourself."
Satisfied with that answer, Jon nodded. It wasn't long before he had another question ready to go.
"Was Prince Rhaegar a bad person? Everything started because of him, and all these books blame him too. But mother and uncle say King Robert was wrong."
Was Maester Lycran sweating? It wasn't that hot, was it?
Finally, the Maester answered. "The books- you shouldn't believe every word they say. Do you think the King would let books be written about how he was a bad person? If the Targaryens won, do you think these books would put the blame on them? No, Jon. History is written by the victors. Whatever would be written down was decided at the Trident, nine years ago. If you want to know more about what happened during the Rebellion, you should ask Lady Ashara and Lord Arthur. Unlike me or the Maesters who wrote these books, they were there.
The minute he was released from the lessons, instead of heading outside like usual Jon went straight to the Graysteel Hearth tower. At this time of the day, his mother would be in her rooms, resting or doing something boring like sewing or praying. If she was elsewhere, one of the maidservants would be able to tell him where.
Fortunately, Jon found her in her rooms straightaway. They were on the top floor of the tower, stretching from a seaward view to an inland mountain-view.. She was out on the balcony, just gazing out eastwards, lost in thought. The door was open.
"Mother?" Jon asked, rapping on the door.
She turned around. "Oh, Jon! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at your lessons with the Maester now?"
"He just let me go, Mother. We were studying history. He just covered the Fall of the Targaryens, but he wouldn't tell me who was in the right. He said I should ask you or Uncle because you lived it."
She closed her eyes, sighing. "I knew this day would come, I suppose." She headed inside, sitting on the bed and motioning for Jon to join her. He plopped down beside her, in the same way he would lean in for a story.
"Why do you want to know, Jon? It was a sad affair that's past us now. You can just as easily learn about it when you're older." She stroked his hair.
"I'm- I just want to know! Uncle Arthur came back from it with his wound. Nobody in Starfall will talk about it. In the stories you can always tell who the good people and the bad people are, but it's all so confusing here. Even old history is clearer!"
"Sometimes I forget you're so young. History isn't like stories where good and bad are clear cut. Everyone believes they are the heroes of their own life, that what they are doing is right."
"Then Prince Rhaegar thought he was doing the right thing?"
"Maybe. You know I was a lady-in-waiting to Elia Martell. He loved her. That was evident, plain as day to anyone and everyone who knew him. But he could also be strange and melancholic at times. Prone to fits of whimsy. Maybe he kidnapped Lyanna Stark in the midst of one such fit. Or maybe he really believed he had a good reason for it."
"Even though everyone started fighting because of it? If he didn't do it, he would've been king now. Then he could have any woman he wanted."
"He didn't want any woman, Jon. He wanted Lyanna Stark. He met her at Harrenhal, at that cursed tourney in the Year of the False Spring, and was instantly besotted. He won the tourney, and instead of crowning Lady Elia he crowned Lyanna Stark the queen of love and beauty. Oh, if only he hadn't…" She gazed off, wistful.
Jon let her. It was hard enough to get his mother or uncle to talk about their pasts. Now that she was talking, he wasn't going to risk pushing too hard.
"Where were you, Mother? During the War?"
"After the tourney, I returned with Elia to King's Landing. Aerys was growing more and more paranoid. She sent me away, for my own safety. I remember the day I was in Bitterbridge, and news came of Rhaegar's folly. I wanted to return to King's Landing straightaway, but my escorts forced me to return to Starfall.
"At Highgarden, we passed the Reach's muster. That's when I learnt I was pregnant with you. Oh, if you could've seen it, Jon. Ranks upon ranks of the finest of the Reach, glittering steel and polished mail shining in the sun. Thousands upon thousands, like a river of metal. All the knights of the Reach were there. We heard about Robert's victory at Summerhall, and rejoiced when Lord Tarly smashed him at Ashford. Oh, if only the war had ended there and then."
"But Robert won in the end. At the Trident." Jon said.
Ashada nodded sadly, "Yes. Prince Rhaegar was a poet, a singer, a storyteller. He fought only in Tourneys, and only to show the nobility that the Prince was a valiant knight like any other. Robert Baratheon was the opposite. He was a warrior from childhood. Everybody knew what would happen if Prince Rhaegar met him, and yet Rhaegar did so. And he died for it. Ser Darry and Prince Lewyn, and so many other good men…"
"What about Uncle Arthur? Did he get wounded at the Trident? Or before that?"
Ashara paused. Jon glanced up at her curiously. After a moment, she answered, "No. Your uncle wasn't at the Trident, nor before. If he had been, Rhaegar would be King now. No, your uncle had a special task from Prince Rhaegar. But he did get wounded during the war, fighting for his Prince."
Jon had another question, but he wasn't sure if he should ask it. "Um-." Every time he had approached this topic, both his mother and uncle had rebuffed him. Ashara looked at him expectantly. "Yes, Jon?"
"Did my father fight in the rebellion?"
There was quietness. Jon wondered if he had gone too far. His mother never, ever talked about his father. The only thing he knew about the man was that he was still alive.
After a long silence, Ashara answered. "Yes, sweetheart, he did. He fought at the Trident."
A single tear rolled down her cheeks. Jon suddenly felt bad for dredging up all those memories. They were painful memories for her. He hugged her tightly and she squeezed him back in response. "I'm sorry, Mother." He murmured, but she shushed him. "You're fast becoming a man, Jon. It's alright. It's okay for you to ask about what you need to know."
They sat like that for a long time, until the sun began to fall and the pangs of hunger drove Jon out of his mother's embrace towards the kitchens.
As he left, he glanced back to find Ashara staring at him, an indeterminable look on her face.
Uncle Arthur had begun to teach him to ride, and often the two of them would set off early in the mornings under his mother's disapproving glare - aimed at Arthur, not Jon - to ride around the castle and its surroundings.
From the gates of Starfall, a sloping causeway built out of large paving bricks curved downwards along the cliff line. It was wide enough for five horsemen to ride abreast in comfort, but one side of the causeway opened up to treacherous rocks a dozen meters below, while the other side rested against the cliff face and was exposed to the castle above. The causeway wound around the island until it reached the ground, only a few feet above the river. A sturdy bridge, built across the narrowest point after the Torrentine split, connected the castle to the mainland.
On the other side of the bridge was an ancient village. It had been there since long before the coming of the Andals and it would be there for as long as there were Daynes in Starfall. The people of the village were a hardy mix of First Men and Rhoynar. They hunted and grew crops in the marshes and fished along the Torrentine.
There were other villages too, a day's ride up the river towards High Hermitage and also away from the River towards the mountains, where the land was better for grazing.
Jon loved going down to the village. There was always so much to see and do!
That day, like all days, the place was bustling with activity. Men hauled in large bags of fresh catch, piling them by the road where fisherwives set, gutting, salting and gossiping. Other women hung out clothes to dry or sat in the shade weaving baskets and nets. Young children, half Jon's age, stared unabashedly at the two of them as they rode through.
"Good morning, milords!" The village blacksmith called out as the two of them approached the forge. He seemed busy today, as both his sons were hammering away further inside. The bellows were running hot.
Arthur replied, "Good morning, Cully. Everything going well?"
"Aye, milord. Those explorers put in a hefty order for sturdy iron nails and fine buckles. They were in a hurry, especially that odd hairy fellow who calls himself a Maester. Seems like their last smith did a shoddy job - one man snapped a leg in a fall. They're paying good money to have these done by tomorrow."
Arthur nodded, "Carry on, then. Wouldn't want to disturb your work."
As the two of them rode on, Jon asked, "What was he talking about? Explorers?"
"Remember that night you fell into the cave?" The older man answered, "Your mother hasn't forgotten about it. Oh no, not by a long shot. We got in touch with a Maester from the citadel who professes to have experience with magic. He's hired some miners and explorers to map out the sea caves under Starfall."
"Really?" Jon perked up. "I thought you'd all forgotten about it. That night feels like a dream to me by now. You should've told me, I could help-"
"Absolutely not, Jon." Was his uncle's curt reply, "Your mother will have my hide if she hears you went down there again. Those men are there exactly so you don't have to go down there."
Jon looked away, conflicted. On one hand, he had this feeling none of the men would find anything down there without him. On the other hand, memories of what happened the last time he disregarded safety and the rules and went down…"
Slowly, he nodded. "Okay. But please, please tell me about what they find, uncle."
"Of course, Jon." The old knight chuckled.
The two of them rode on in companionable silence for another hour. The village and Starfall receded to small dots in the distance behind them, and the valley opened up, climbing higher and higher ahead of them. In the distance, if Jon squinted he could see the small blocky towers of High Hermitage atop a crag, silhouetted by the sun.
"Let's go back, Jon." Arthur suddenly said. There was something in his voice... "We're too far out."
"Uncle, are you alright?" Jon drew his horse close.
Arthur swayed on his horse. Jon stared, terrified, as the Sword of the Morning teetered on the edge of falling, his head limp. Jon had no idea what to do if his uncle collapsed here. Help was hours away, and there was no way Jon could lift his uncle back onto his horse. His only hope was some messenger or traveller, and none were in sight.
Right before Arthur could fall, his fists tightened and he pulled at the reins of the horse. His mount swayed to the opposite side and back, and the motion gave Jon's uncle the strength to pull himself back to his normal position. The moment passed.
Arthur smiled grimly, "I'm alright, Jon."
"It's that wound, isn't it?"
"It is, but you don't need to worry-"
"Mother said you got wounded in the Rebellion."
His uncle's head snapped up. "What did she say?" His uncle's destrier, sensing his agitated mood, took a step forward.
"Not that much," Jon's mount took a nervous step backwards before he reined it in with a tug. "Maester Lycran was teaching me about the Rebellion and told me to talk to you or mother. Then Mother told me that my father fought at the Trident. But she wouldn't say where you got that." Jon gestured towards the side of Arthur's body.
"Whoa, whoa." Arthur said, "One step at a time."
He sighed, glancing away. He stared into the distance for a few long minutes, until beginning again. "I'm sorry about all the secrets we keep from you, Jon, but some knowledge is dangerous. You're nearly old enough to know some of them, I suppose. Come, these things are not best discussed openly on the road."
Arthur led Jon along a trail that forked off the road and headed towards the mountains. In the distance, Jon could see the shapes of hamlets and the movement of grazing sheep, like little white clouds in a green sky.
"We loved Rhaegar. He was a shining example of nobility. He was kind and passionate. He could wield song and smile and steel with the same ease. But when he crowned- when he crowned Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty, all the smiles died. Ashara spent a day and a night cursing him, but Elia… I think Princess Elia knew what he was going to do.
"He was strange and restless ever since that day. Obsessed with magic and prophecies. Then one day, he found Lyanna Stark. I don't know what words they exchanged, because he had me and Whent wait a distance away, but I will tell you this - she came willingly."
"Came… where?"
"South. Dorne. Jon, you must never tell another soul what I'm about to tell you. Not without my permission. Mine, or your mother's."
Jon nodded mutely.
"Rhaegar and Lyanna stayed for many months in the mountains north of here, at a place they called the Tower of Joy. Three of the Kingsguard were with him - Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent and me. When news of the Mad King's folly and of Robert Baratheon raising his banners came to us, the Prince left straightaway, leaving the three of us to protect Lady Stark, who was pregnant.
Arthur's voice grew somber. "You know what happened next. My Prince died at the Trident, because I wasn't there to protect him. Y- Lyanna's brother, Eddard Stark of Winterfell, came to the Tower of Joy with seven men. We should've given her up then, but the White Bull would not be restrained."
At Jon's enraptured face, he said, "It wasn't one of those heroic fights from the stories, Jon. We were outnumbered, but Ned Stark had bought friends and trusted comrades, not great warriors. My brothers fell first, but so did Stark's, until only two of them remained: Stark himself, and Howland Reed."
Reed. Why did the name sound so familiar? Images of frogs flashed across Jon's eyes. "The lord of the Crannogmen?"
"Indeed. His spear stuck me through the side. It was coated with poison."
"That- that wasn't honourable of him!"
"There's precious little honour in War. Besides, Howland Reed was no knight, and a close friend of both Lyanna and Ashara. I couldn't keep fighting after that, so I yielded. Reed treated the wound best he could, but not all poisons have antidotes. When Ned came out of the tower, it was with Lyanna's body. She had died in childbirth, and Rhaegar's heir was stilborn."
"Then you came back to Starfall." Jon finished.
"Then I came back to Starfall." Arthur said.
The two of them sat in silence for a while, as Jon tried to digest the enormity of the whole story. So much still didn't make sense. "But why did everything happen? You said Rhaegar was a honourable and noble person. Why did he run away with Lyanna? He was the Prince, he should've known what would happen!"
"I wish I could say, Jon. I wish so many things, least of all to know what was on the mind of my Prince in those days. You may know what happened now, but you're still too young to understand everything. Until you do, not a whisper. Not to Edric, not to anyone at Starfall."
"I promise, Uncle."
He gave Jon a measured look. "Good. It's well past time we returned home. No doubt you're hungry. At your age, riding made me peckish to no end too."
"Then I'll race you home, uncle!"
"Whoa there, Jon!"
His lessons continued in both swordcraft and statecraft, as the spring faded into the height of summer. The snows had all but melted up at the mountain peaks, and the smallfolk rejoiced at the end of what they saw as the end of an age. The Winter of Rebellions was over and the spring of hope had finally given birth to the long Summer.
The days passed, as Jon's tenth nameday came and went. Little Edric shot up like a weed, growing taller with the speed only young boys could manage. Jon was growing too. He had switched out the shortsword for a longer and heavier one. It didn't quite fit in his hands, but nevertheless he bore it with pride. It was a symbol of approaching manhood.
The atmosphere in Starfall changed, too. Edric would be sent for fostering soon, and Allyria was preparing to travel to Blackhaven for her betrothal to Beric Dondarrion.
The entire household would be travelling. Even Arthur Dayne, who had not left Starfall in over a decade, would be going. The grimace on his old uncle's face told Jon he had no wish to go, but his presence would be a great honour to House Dondarrion that could not be shirked easily.
The betrothal was the talk of the Reach, the Stormlands and the Dornish Marches alike. After all, Ashara Dayne's beauty was known far and wide, and men had high expectations of her sister. They had high expectations of the sister of the Sword of the Morning too. Every lord in the region was expected to come, and Jon and Edric were forced into the Maester's study for days on end memorizing absolutely every last facet of the histories and politics of every last house in the Region, Ashara and Allyria looming over them.
It would be a long journey, too. The distance to Blackhaven was short, as the raven flew, but the mountains of Dorne made travel long and arduous. A carriage was inadvisable in the mountains, so they would all have to ride. Allyria would be complaining before long.
On the day they left, Arthur bought down a long wooden box, wrapped with a white sash. Jon gasped as he realized what the sash was. The box was finely made, bound in metal and engraved with ancient runes, but it was what was inside the box that drew Jon and Edric's eyes.
The metal was pale white, shining brightly in the sun. It reminded Jon of a silvered mirror reflecting the sunlight. Edric stared at it, enraptured. The light was so bright that after a few moments Jon had to tear his eyes away after a few moments.
Slowly, gingerly, Arthur lifted up Dawn and slid it into a scabbard of supple white leather. There was longing and regret in his face.
"I may have laid down my cloak, but as long as I'm alive and no other Sword of the Morning has been chosen, I must bear Dawn." He answered the unspoken question of why he had taken it out after a decade of gathering dust.
His uncle stared into the distance, lost in memories. Outside, his mother was already in the courtyard, preparing the horses.
With a last glance at the sword of the stars, Jon headed out to join her.
A bit of a slow and boring chapter, I'm sure, but one that was pretty necessary to establish a few facts and initiate a few plot threads that will become relevant extremely shortly. I hope you guys don't mind, since the real fun of the AU should start from the next chapter. This chapter was unedited, so if you note any mistakes it should be gone in the next couple days.
Yes, every line about who Jon's parents are is a huge tease. It wouldn't be fun if it was revealed so early, would it? It's a little early for his personality to emerge (insofar as much as I can give a ten year old a personality, I'm not good with children), but I hope the differences from Canon Jon become more apparent in the next few chapters. I'm hoping to get at least 2-3 chapters of 3-5k words out every month. Hopefully, that pans out...
I'm really surprised at forty follows in one chapter. Thanks for reading, I'm glad you guys enjoyed it!
