CHAPTER 19: Dark and Unbothered
Jon Snow returned, victorious and with the faction of the Lannister army sent to Riverrun destroyed behind him.
Lady Catelyn was watching from the window in Bran and Rickon's chambers with them and Robb's young queen when trumpets announced his arrival. She had run down as fast as she could, barely pausing to look out the window and see him before leaving.
"Stay with them," she called over her shoulder to Jeyne, who had risen to follow her. Lady Catelyn didn't look back to see if she had been obeyed; but, of course, she had been.
When she had looked out the window she had been greeted with a peculiar, unexpected sight. It was not one she'd really had to process before she was in the courtyard. But when she was in the yard, she was forced to process it.
"Oh," she said with first a surprised face, then a bland one.
There, tied behind the white horse Jon was dismounting, was Ser Kevan Lannister. His hands were bound together, then tied to the back of Jon's saddle with perhaps ten feet of rope securing him close to the horse. He was barefoot, and his feet were filthy. As he stumbled forward a few steps as he was untied, his feet left red streaks in the dirt in their wake.
The scene was obvious: Jon had dragged Ser Kevan for who knew how many leagues. The man looked almost dead.
Catelyn stared. The scene was clear before her… but she had not expected it.
Jon Snow had been a meek boy at Winterfell and now… well he was no longer a boy, she supposed. Making Ser Kevan run behind him was a cruel thing to do, but Jon seemed unbothered… if dark in the wake of Ser Kevan's bloody feet. Jon hardly seemed meek either.
He was speaking with a few of his men, seeming much more at ease than she had seen him yet. And the men around him, her brother and the other captains Robb had appointed among them, were laughing and speaking animatedly with Jon.
They were at ease with him as much as he was with them—and that was quite a dramatic change.
It was obvious Jon was admired by them.
She watched as Jon said something to the two men who had untied Ser Kevan. They nodded and their prisoner was taken into the castle. He was destined for the dungeons, she supposed, but he would have honorable accommodations there as befit one of his birth and station.
Despite the cruel scene, Catelyn was quite glad Jon had succeeded and taken a hostage. Ser Kevan was a valuable prisoner, perhaps they could barter him for Sansa and Arya. He was, after all, Lord Tywin's brother… and Sansa and Arya were sisters to Robb. It seemed an even enough trade.
"Lady Catelyn," Jon hailed her as he saw her approaching.
His face fell ever so slightly at the sight of her, and Catelyn felt the familiar prickling of shame. The boy had no love for her, and that was understandable. She had failed to remember her family words and had failed to fulfil her promise to the gods. She'd been cruel to him, she knew.
Jon said something quietly to the men and they dispersed. He walked slowly to her.
Edmure stopped on his way and grinned at her. "Alright, Cat?" he asked, but was gone before she answered.
"Lady Catelyn," Jon said again, nodding as he stood in front of her.
His white direwolf with its strange red eyes padded at his side and looked at her flatly. Ghost seemed to like her as little as his master did. Her eyes drifted to the red fabric package in Jon's hand and she wondered why it looked damp and what it was. But she didn't ask and stared wordlessly at Jon for a moment, at a loss.
Even knowing what to address him as was a challenge. She tried her smile, hoping to be perceived as kind, and said, "Jon. How went the battle?"
"Good," he said and was grinning more heartily at her than he ever had before. "I'm sure you saw Kevan Lannister. I took him prisoner myself."
"And dragged him back yourself, too?" She hadn't meant to sound so accusatory… were things always going to be strained between her and this child Ned had loved so much? The one Robb claimed as brother and the one who had saved her other two sons? Catelyn didn't want that, but she supposed old habits died hard. She would just have to kill them within herself and let the new be born.
Despite herself, though, she watched his face closely for a hint of shame.
"Yes," he said, and she saw no shame. His voice was slightly lower than it had been, but there was no change in his face. She wondered what she was to make of that. To her upmost shame, uneasiness had broken out inside her. She pushed it down.
Catelyn nodded carefully. To her satisfaction, her voice was even, if hesitant, as she said, "I hope not to offend… but why did you do that, Jon? Would it not have been better to give him a horse?"
His face hardened, and she knew she had offended him. In a colder voice than before he said, "Perhaps, my lady. But I was given command and Ser Kevan was my prisoner to take. I was well within my rights."
"That is so—" she had barely said before Jon's eyes had moved to someone behind her.
"I must beg my leave of you, my lady," he said with a smile once again growing on his face. "I hope not to offend."
"Not at all. Perhaps we can speak later of another matter…" she offered hopefully but soon trailed off.
Jon had left.
Her son's heir quickly strode past her to meet Maester Aemon. She watched as they embraced and talked enthusiastically. Jon was quick to usher them inside the castle, doubtlessly heading to Aemon's chambers. Whatever it was he held in that red fabric, he did not relinquish yet.
Catelyn sighed.
That had gone less well than she had hoped. But it didn't matter—she would see him again. He couldn't stay away from Bran and Rickon, she knew. And Catelyn was determined to talk with him. She'd meant to speak with him soon after he had arrived from the Wall but so much had been going on… and then he'd been heading for battle. She had prayed fervently that both he and Robb might find victory and return… Catelyn had never felt a stronger compulsion to make amends than she did now, with Jon Snow.
He had returned her two sons, alive. And he was Robb's strongest supporter, she could see that now. And when she thought of all Ned had endured to keep the secret of Jon Snow's parentage a secret… she could cry. Ned had loved the child and when she had been told the truth, she'd went to the godswood that very night for the first time and prayed that Ned might forgive her for all she had done against him. Catelyn would see him on the Iron Throne, and in that way, she would fulfil Ned's work in keeping him alive and safe.
She watched him walk with Aemon, the old man who seemed to have taken on a grandfatherly role to Jon. Now was not the time to talk.
But it would be soon.
Jon presented Aemon with Ser Gregor's sword first, then his head.
When the old man had been told that Jon had killed him, Jon had expected him to be overjoyed. Finally, Aemon was being delivered retribution for the deaths of Rhaenys and Aegon, both children. Aemon and Jon were the only family members in Westeros to deliver justice, and Jon had done that.
But the man was not happy, per say.
There had been a grim satisfaction on his face when Jon guided his hands to the head. But he was far from joy. That was to be expected, Jon had realized. He knew the feeling within Aemon well, he'd felt it himself. Killing the man who had killed his siblings, even though Jon had never known them, had given him a feeling he'd never felt before. It was one part triumph and two parts satisfaction. There was anger and joy intertwined there was well, but they were smaller components of the complicated feeling.
"He confessed to killing Aegon and Elia," Jon reported.
Aemon nodded and Jon had told him the entire story before a few minutes had passed. When Jon told him of how he had captured Kevan Lannister and dragged him for miles behind his horse, Aemon had looked troubled. The expression vanished from his face so quickly Jon wondered if he had imagined it.
"What is it?" Jon asked.
"Nothing," Aemon had said. "We need to speak of what you're going to do with Clegane's head and sword."
Jon shrugged more for the effect than anything, considering Aemon couldn't see him do it.
"I had thought I'd send it to Prince Doran of Dorne. Elia was his sister."
Jon was yet to tell Aemon that he had agreed to lay claim to the Iron Throne and Six of the Seven Kingdoms, and he wasn't going to do it now. But it had also occurred to him that sending the Mountain's head to Dorne would go a long way to getting them on his side. What else did the Lannisters have to offer them but the Mountain? And now Jon would give them that and the promise of true justice.
"That's a good idea," Aemon said. "No one but the Starks here will understand why you've taken it, and others may not like that you've done it if they don't know why."
Jon shrugged, still aware Aemon couldn't see him. He said, "No one else seemed to mind during the battle. Lots of people watched me fight him and cheered when he fell."
It was true, no one had questioned why he was taking the head of Gregor Clegane back with him, although Jon supposed it had been odd.
Aemon nodded thoughtfully. "Battles are often perceived differently to those who did not fight them, Jon. You would do better to dispose of it sooner rather than later."
Jon supposed that was true. "I'll arrange for it to be sent to Sun Spear tomorrow," he said. The sooner the better.
Whatever Aemon had been going to say was interrupted by the sounding of the same trumpets that had announced his arrival.
"That must be Robb," Jon said, jetting to his feet and grinning. "What are the odds we'd get back within an hour of each other, I wonder. Is it alright if I leave the head with you, Aemon?"
"Oh yes. I'll speak to you later, Jon."
"Later," Jon said, nodding in agreement. He departed quickly, striding back out to the grounds he'd just come in from. There, as expected, was Robb. He was standing next to a horse and was embracing his queen. Jon smirked.
They broke apart as Jon came up to them. "Robb," he said and grinned.
"Jon," Robb said and they clasped each other's arms in happiness. "How fared your battle? I've been told you crushed Ser Kevan and killed the Mountain."
"That I did," Jon said. "Ser Kevan's in the dungeons as we speak. He's your captive, Your Grace."
Robb looked uncomfortable at the title, but only for a moment before it faded. He smiled again. "Your battle will be famed for a hundred years, to hear my men speak of it. Is it true you beheaded Ser Gregor in single combat?"
Jon's smile faded, but he made his face keep the remnants of it. This had been something he'd dreaded. He didn't know how Robb would react to hear he'd taken Gregor's head back with him and had dragged Ser Kevan behind him.
These were things he doubted Robb would approve of… and he couldn't even say why he had done them. Jon a month ago would not approve. But something had changed in him, and he thought it might be the dreams he had every night… although he never remembered the content of them. He woke every night drenched in sweat and shaking. A few times he'd been crying… but it didn't matter, because he could never remember what had happened in them.
"Aye," said Jon roughly. "But we can speak of that later. Tell me of your own battle, I've heard nothing."
Robb's face changed slightly. "Let us go somewhere alone," he suggested eyes flickering to the many men milling around them.
Jon nodded. The three of them turned towards the castle. They collected Lady Catelyn on their way and walked in silence to the same room Jon had confessed the truth of his parentage in, that first night he had been here. He sat down in a different seat than before.
Robb got right down to telling them what happened at Winterfell.
Jon was amazed, if not surprised to hear that there were secret entrances to Winterfell. It was a castle made to withhold armies, of course there were. Robb had been apologetic about not telling him, but Jon waved it away. He was not a Stark, after all. It was not for him to know, and for the first time, Jon felt no jealousy about that. Other matters interested him now.
"What do you intend to do with Theon?" he asked in a low voice.
Robb's face darkened. "I'll behead him, I suppose. Execute him the same way Father executed traitors."
Jon nodded, but it was not his words Robb needed.
His mother spoke up then, offering her approval. "It's the only thing to do, Robb. And once he's dead your brothers will be safe."
Robb brightened slightly at that thought, although his face was still stormy. "Yes, they will."
Jon left after that, leaving Robb to the comforts of his wife and mother. "I have to find a box," Jon said in explanation, smiling at the confusion of the others.
"What?" Robb asked.
"Nothing," Jon said. "I'll explain it later." Then he took his leave of them.
Robb felt tired and weary. Taking back Winterfell had been easy, as it turned out. He'd put most of the Ironborn to the sword then and there, and Theon was one of their few prisoners. But thinking of executing the man he'd thought of as a brother… it left a bitter taste in his mouth, despite Theon's treachery. Theon Turncloak, they called him now and it was apt. But still, Robb's mouth was bitter.
"How fares Winterfell?" Robb's mother asked with forced indifference in her voice. There had been reports Theon had burned the castle… but that had not been the case. When Robb told her the castle was remarkably untouched, her face broke out into a wide, troubled grin. She didn't say anything else.
"Was there something else, Mother?"
"I… Robb it isn't for me to say." She looked at the ground.
That intrigued him. His mother looked downright glum. "Nonsense. If it's something about the battles or Theon I'm sure to hear of it anyway. And if it's bothering you, I'd rather hear it from you."
She seemed swayed, but only slightly. "Robb… have you talked much to Jon about the Battle at Ashemark?"
"Is that what they're calling it?" Robb was amused. The battle Jon had won was hardly near Ashemark. "But no, Mother, I've not spoken much to Jon about it yet. I'll get a full report from him later, I should think. He's tired now though, I'll let him rest." Jon had seemed tired, but nowhere near as deadened as he'd been when he first arrived at Riverrun. And better, there had been a vigorous, triumphant energy to Jon he'd lacked before.
"He captured Ser Kevan Lannister, who commanded. A great feat."
"Yes. And Mother, if this is about the girls you should know I'll do everything in my power to barter Ser Kevan for them. As I should have done with Ser Jaime."
"This isn't about that. Have you heard how Jon transported Ser Kevan back to Riverrun?" There was something tense and urgent to his mother's voice.
"No," Robb said slowly. "Say what you're saying, Mother. How did he transport Ser Kevan?"
"Jon dragged Ser Kevan back. His hands were tied to Jon's horse, and he was made to run with him all the way here. His feet were bloody."
That was unexpected. It was also much darker than he had thought of Jon. It was hard to reconcile the image of that scene with his brother. He thought back to the dark expression he had seen on Jon's face when he spoke of the deaths of his half siblings what felt like ages ago. His mind flashed to Aemon as well, and what the man had said of delivering justice to the Lannisters. Wheels turned in his head.
"Well," Robb said and was surprised at the hesitancy in his own voice. "Jon has quite a few reasons to hate the Lannisters and Ser Kevan was his prisoner."
"Yes," his mother said. "Ser Kevan was his prisoner."
"And you know what they say about Targaryens," Robb said. He was still getting used to the idea that Jon was a Targaryen. To his mother's confused glance, he explained, "Greatness and madness are two halves of the same coin. When a Targaryen is born the gods flip that coin, and the world holds its breath. I know it… seems horrible that Jon would do that, and I certainly didn't see it coming… but well, he does have cause to hate the Lannisters. And compared to burning people alive, that's very mild."
They were silent for a long moment. Both of them had not quite adjusted to Jon being, truly, Jaeherys Targaryen. It would take time. Different rules applied to Targaryens, anyhow. What was madness for anyone else was greatness for a Targaryen.
"I suppose you're right," Lady Catelyn said. It seemed to have calmed her.
"I usually am," Robb teased. He rose out of his seat. "And we both know where Jon's coin has landed. He might glance the edge now and then, but Jon isn't mad. Now, tell me of Bran and Rickon. How have they been?"
After they had talked, Robb went his separate way from his mother.
"I'll speak to you later tonight," Lady Catelyn said and went to look for Jon Snow.
What Robb had said of Targaryens had made her realize she was being silly. Of course Jon had reason to hate Ser Kevan's family. He would have been within his rights to kill the man, but he had only made him run a few miles. If the men who had fought with him did not think ill of him for it, and Catelyn had seen they did not, then she was going to look past it.
"I'll see you for dinner," Robb called after her, then was gone.
Lady Catelyn suspected that she knew where Jon was. He was very like Ned, after all, even if he was just the boy's father. Ned had raised him, after all.
The godswood was still and quiet.
Lady Catelyn still felt like she was an intruder when she went to the place of the old gods. She had been to Riverrun's only once recently, after Jon and Robb had left for battle. She had prayed, but that did not make her feel calm now.
As she had suspected, Jon Snow was kneeling in front of the hearttree. His direwolf lay at his side.
He did not move as she approached. She waited, feeling more and more silly, for him to rise.
Finally, he did. Ghost rose with him. Jon did not seem surprised to see her, although his face took on a pinched expression where it had been calm. A moment passed and he seemed to force the expression away.
"Lady Stark," he said and nodded once to her. He obviously wanted to leave. But Jon must have found it better merely to stay, as he did not move.
"Jon," she said directly. "I want to apologize to you for earlier. I truly did not mean to… sound like I was accusing you of anything."
"Oh," he said and cleared his throat. He seemed uneasy. "Think nothing of it, my lady."
"Call me Catelyn," she said forcefully. "Let there be no more of this 'my lady' or 'Lady Stark' business between us. I find no need to be so tirelessly formal." Before he could say anything, she said quickly, "Do you know the words of House Tully, Jon?"
"… Yes, m—Yes, I do."
"What are they?"
"Family. Duty. Honor."
"Then you know of how I have failed."
That took him aback. "Failed, m—Lady Catelyn. I don't understand."
She could sense 'Lady Catelyn' was as close as he was going to get to calling her by her name for now. He had called her that before and she would have preferred merely Catelyn, but now wasn't the time to argue with him.
"I've failed on all three of those counts, Jon. I've failed my family, failed to do my duty and failed to have honor… all when I failed you."
That really took him aback. "I… I truly don't understand—Lady Catelyn. How have you failed me?"
Catelyn bowed her head. "In every way, Jon. All of them."
She told him then of the promise she had made when he was a young child, and how miserably she had failed to fulfil it.
When that sad story was done, she said, "I was cruel to you when you were a child, Jon. To know now that all my jealousy towards your mother was misguided and that Ned had never betrayed me… it's allowed me to see clearly what I have denied for so long. You were just a child, a motherless child, Jon. I should have been better to you. Ned asked me many times if I would agree to allow you to be legitimized… and every time I said no. I should have said yes, then you would have been with Robb the entire time and all that happened to you on the Wall… I'm sorry, Jon."
Catelyn trailed off, speechless. The thought that had she only been kinder, the boy that had saved Bran and Rickon would never have had to die, even temporarily, filled her with shame. Shame and horror.
Jon was staring at her as he had stared for the duration of her story. Catelyn bowed her head and waited for his condemnation.
"I think," he said slowly. "That Eddard loved you very much."
She looked at him sharply but said nothing.
Jon continued, his voice soft and slow. He did not look at her. "And I think that Robb and Bran and Rickon love you very much. You are their mother… But also," he sighed and seemed to search for what he wanted to say. There was a long silence. "Lady Catelyn, I resented you very much when I was young. I've realized… Resentments and jealousy are for children. And I am no longer a child. My parents are both dead, as is my uncle, and I'm alone in the world but for the family you and I share. And Aemon and a few others," he allowed, shrugging. "But you and I are stuck together for the love we bear our shared family. I would have this conflict between us done with. There is no place for it." Jon smiled thinly as he said, "Winter is coming, after all, Lady Catelyn. We must be a pack; we can't fight between ourselves." He shrugged again, "Fire and Blood is coming too, but I'm less worried about that. I forgive you, Lady Catelyn, if we can consider ourselves to be… friends, I suppose."
"I can do that." Tears had built in her eyes, but she blinked them away and smiled at him. He looked mildly embarrassed at her tears and was staring hard at his feet.
He reminded her very strongly of Ned, just then. When she told him so, he smiled like she had paid him a compliment. They were silent for a moment.
"Did you know my mother, Lady Catelyn?" Jon asked tentatively.
"Please, Jon, call my just Catelyn," she said gently. "I knew your mother very briefly. Lady Lyanna was closer to Benjen or Ned instead of Brandon, and in those days, I believed I was going to marry Brandon, not Ned. But still, I spoke to her a few times. She was very beautiful and looked in every way of the North."
"I've been told I look like her," Jon said, but Catelyn couldn't tell if she was speaking to her or himself. He was facing the hearttree. At his side, Ghost flopped down onto Jon's feet. "Obviously I don't much take after my father."
"You do look like her," Catelyn said, then hesitated. "Did you know that when you were young… the rumor of the day was that your—that Ned had had a passionate love affair with Ashara Dayne?"
Jon turned to look at her, startled. Ghost jumped off his feet and sneezed. Jon didn't so much as look at him, and stared at her, surprised. "He did?"
Catelyn laughed. "No, he didn't. But that was the rumor. And rumor had it that she was your mother. Do you know why?"
"Oh. No, I don't. Why?"
She smiled. "Because your eyes have flecks of purple in them, Jon. They've been there since you were a child. I heard Ned remark on it once, and he seemed horror struck… Now we know why, he must have feared for your life, but at the time it was proof to me that your mother was Ashara Dayne. So, you see, Jon," she said and smiled at him, "You may have your mother's looks, but you have some of your father's eyes."
"Thank you for telling me, Catelyn," he said. He was looking her in the eye for the first time she could recall, and she smiled at him. He smiled at her.
Catelyn had never felt greater relief. Her coldness to the child Ned had loved so much was behind her.
At dinner that night they had a feast to celebrate their dual victories.
Robb sat at the center of the dais that looked out over the great hall of Riverrun, where hundreds were packed in. No seat was empty, and most held a few. Women were splayed on laps, and children on shoulders. Under the dais, Grey Wind and Ghost lay next to each other, their flanks barely touching. Jon was on Robb's right, and on his left was Queen Jeyne. Next to Jon sat Catelyn and then Aemon, and next to Jeyne there was Lord Edmure. The lords and captains of the army sat at the dais in similar, predictable patterns.
"To victory!" was the toast that had been made half a hundred times. Jon was a bundle of nerves as Robb caught his eye and looked at him questioningly. Jon gave him a quick nod.
Robb took to his feet. Now was the time.
"My lords and ladies," he yelled, and silence was slowly called. "I would like to make one last toast to our crushing victories!"
A cheer went up as Robb raised a glass. Everyone drank deeply. When silence once again slowly dawned on the crowd, Robb continued.
"I would also like to thank all those that participated in the battles, and those who died. We shall repay their sacrifices by winning this war!" Again, there was a cheer and Robb did not wait for it to quiet. "We have retaken Winterfell! We have retaken Moat Cailin! We have retaken the North!" The cheer was eardrum-busting at this point. But still, Robb yelled over the din, "And we've fought the Lannisters in the field. We sent them running, with their armies smashed, generals dead or captured, and with their tails between their legs! So much for the lions of Lannister, they looked like a few scared kittens to me!"
Robb waited patiently for the crowd to die down. Eventually he raised his hands for silence, and soon thereafter silence fell.
"And now I have some news. It feels only appropriate to share it with you now, in the wake of our great victories. You all should know what this truly means, and what better time than now. Truly, men, we have changed to face of this war today! We have snatched my brothers back from the jaws of death!"
Cheers had echoed through the halls again, but now, at Robb's words, a confused silence fell. Robb hurried to explain, his grin mirrored on few faces.
"You all know my brother Jon returned to help us in our fight from the Wall. We all know this. But what we don't all know is that he did not come back empty handed. No! He found my brothers, Bran and Rickon, fleeing Winterfell from Theon!"
Still, no one made a noise. Jon thought the overwhelming silence was more awed than confused now, as he looked out over the faces before him.
"Theon Turncloak lied," Robb roared, his grip tightening on the glass he still held. "He didn't kill my brothers. He took two innocent children and killed them in their places. The bodies he raised up on the walls of Winterfell and claimed as Brandon and Rickon were burned beyond recognition. Theon did this, he told me, to spare himself embarrassment at failing to find two small children when they left Winterfell. It did this, aye, but it also brought war down on him and death to his men! It'll bring death on him, soon enough."
The crowd were silent for another long moment, before understanding of what Robb was saying hit home. Then they were louder than before in their joy and fervor.
Robb then set down the glass and left the hall. There was confusion in the few seconds before he reappeared.
When he did, the crowd was screaming its support.
Robb emerged in the doorway he'd vanished from, carrying Bran in his own arms. Rickon came behind him. Both were dressed in silks the grey and black of House Stark, looking very much as the princes they were.
Bran and Rickon took their rightful places as Lord Edmure and Lord Karstark, knowing their parts, took different seats at the dais.
"House Stark!" Lord Karstark bellowed, and Jon was startled to see there were tears on his face.
Others, including the Greatjon and other Northern Lords took up the call, but it soon became, "King in the North! King in the North! King in the North!"
Robb had retaken his seat. Again, he looked to Jon. They had agreed that Robb would announce it better, and so it was Robb who stood once more at Jon's single sharp nod.
"You're right, my lords and ladies, I am king in the North. And in the North, I shall remain. I will never sit the Iron Throne. It is not my desire to. I will rule from Winterfell, as the Kings of Winter have done for hundreds of years. The King in the North rules in the North."
Cheers rang out and Robb allowed them to yell for a moment. He raised his hands for silence eventually, and a careful silence fell.
"But now I ask you to consider what will happen when we overthrow the Lannisters and Baratheons," Robb continued. "My friends, who will we place on the Iron Throne?" He let the question hang for a few seconds then said, "My lords and ladies, I have another piece of information to share with you tonight."
Silence had fallen as Robb stood again, and the joy that had consumed them when Bran and Rickon emerged was still heavy in the air. Now it was tainted with thought and slight confusion. Robb had made them think, that was for sure.
"You all know," Robb began, "That my lord father was an honorable man. You all know how devoted he was to his family and to his duty… you all know how devoted he was to his dear sister, the Lady Lyanna."
A few murmurs broke out, but Robb paid them no mind.
"When my father was told that Prince Rhaegar Targaryen had stolen his sister it sparked a war. You all know this story… but you are not aware that my father was lied to." Robb raised his voice. "My aunt Lyanna was not stolen! She married Prince Rhaegar of her own free will. When her beloved husband, Prince Rhaegar was slaughtered on the Trident by Robert Baratheon, Lyanna Stark was found by her brother and spent her final moments in his arms."
Had a single pin dropped there and now, everyone would have heard it. They were mesmerized by Robb and hanging off his every word.
"You were all told she died of a fever. Just like my father, you were all told a lie! Lyanna Stark had loved Rhaegar… and when she died it was in childbirth." Robb paused for affect. The hall was still and silent. "In her final moments, she made my lord father promise to keep her child safe. When the war was won by Robert Baratheon, Lord Eddard came home to Winterfell… but he did not come alone. With him was the trueborn son of Lyanna and Rhaegar. With him, was the future king of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. With him was King Jaeherys Targaryen the third of his name, born of fire and ice." The moment was drawing nearer, Jon sat tall and tilted his chin up even as Robb declared, "My father called him Jon Snow, and you all know him the same, but he is and will always be a king!"
The hall had gone nuts as soon as Robb named him, and Jon felt every eye turn upon him. He was dressed in black and red, the colors of his father's house. Jon stood up. He had prepared a few words, but there was no calming the crowd to speak them.
A chant rose, "The wolf and the dragon! The wolf and the dragon! The wolf and the dragon!"
Robb beamed at Jon as they both prepared to leave the hall. Jon couldn't help but beam back.
It had gone much better than he'd hoped.
"The wolf and the dragon! The wolf and THE DRAGON!"
