Disclaimer: Nokkuð sem þú kannast ekki tilheyra mér svo allir lögmenn geta ríða burt. . .fucking foreign disclaimer, sorry that I couldn't find an english speaking one at such short notice.
Moat Cailin:
Jon stood in the courtyard right before the doors that led into the fortress. Alys was standing at his right hand, Lyarra and Torrhen placed between them, their small hands clasped in Jon and Alys' while they stood on somewhat wobbly legs. As Oberyn and Arianne were somewhat guests of honour and of higher status than anyone else they stood closest to Jon on his left side, while others such as Robar Royce and Smalljon Stagsbane stood beside them again.
Jon knew that the Queen despised him, and the sight of her least favourite Lannister in the world standing beside Alys would no doubt infuriate her even further, but he was still intending to impress. In addition to the majority of the household being there, Jon had five hundred men fully armed and armoured standing at attention, their gleaming breastplates, swords and shields shining brightly in the sun.
Leading the Royal procession were twelve men-at-arms or Knights riding in pairs of two's, six in Lannister garb and six bearing the black stag upon a golden surcoat of Baratheon soldiers. Then came the Kingsguard, led by Ser Barristan Selmy himself who despite having escorted the King to Jon's wedding he had never actually spoken with. Jaime Lannister as always looked like a prancing fool with his soft effeminate features and ridiculous wavy hair that gleamed like spun gold.
The Prince followed next, escorted by a piggish man with long dark hair, cruel brown eyes and an even crueler sneer, a black manticore on a field of red was his sigil and before Jon could wrack his brains for the identity of the man Prince Oberyn spat out, "Amory Lorch," and Jon suddenly understood, and got an all too unhealthy appreciation for how his uncle Ned must have felt like over the years, no doubt Jon would have to watch Prince Oberyn like a hawk to ensure that nothing happened.
Behind the Prince was King Robert himself who rode in front of the biggest waste of money Jon had ever laid eyes on. An opulent and ridiculously large wheelhouse, bedecked in reds and gold, so large that it required a team of forty horses to pull it along. The moment the King dismounted, with the help of his squire who propped a box beside the King's horse, Jon and everyone else, both guests and members of the household knelt.
"JON," King Robert yelled as he physically grabbed Jon to his feet and tried his best to crush him in a hug. "You. . .still haven't got fat," Robert japed as he released Jon and took a good look.
"What I haven't gotten seems to have been taken by you Your Grace," Jon japed. "I thank you for the sacrifice you're making on my behalf."
People gasped, and if Jon was completely honest, the sour look on the Queen's face was almost as good as fucking a beautiful woman after a long day. "HAH!" Robert laughed, not at all insulted. "I don't think you could have gotten fat if you tried, not even ten and seven and you killed the Mountain." Robert slapped Jon on the back with a laugh before turning to Ser Jaime who was doing his absolute best to look like a condescending prick, and if Jon was to admit the truth, the Kingslayer's effeminate features certainly leant themselves well to condescending looks.
"See here Kingslayer?" Robert asked as he threw an arm around Jon's shoulders. "THIS is what a true warrior looks like, not unlike some whose only kills I recall to be old men, eh Barristan?"
Fuck but it was pleasing to see the Kingslayer fume like a naughty child whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar, of course, Ser Barristan saying 'One of the most impressive fights I've seen Your Grace,' probably didn't help the Kingslayer's ego at all.
"Uncle Jaime could beat him anytime," Prince Joffrey said, finally opening his mouth at last, from where he sat sulking on top of his horse.
"Ah, it was god of you to speak Prince Joffrey," Jon said. "Gives me an excuse to get things out of the way, such as it is."
"Get what out of the way?" Robert asked suddenly.
"Well. . ." Jon paused, trying to find the right words. "You probably remember Sandor here," Jon said as he gestured for the last living Clegane to step forward.
"Clegane," Robert said as his eyes widened ever so slightly. "The fuck you doing here?"
"Yes Sandor," Jon said. "Tell our King just why you told Joffrey and the Lannisters to fuck off and then rode north with all haste."
Robert's eyes narrowed, no doubt already suspecting where this was going.
"When Lord Stark killed my brother the Prince ordered me to ride north and bring back his head," Sandor explained simply, and Jon felt a stab of affection for the big brute, simplicity rather than flowery words were always appreciated up north.
"LIES!" Cersei and Joffrey both shouted at the same time while Robert glared at his son.
"GET. HERE. BOY!" He snarled at Joffrey who dithered atop his horse. "NOW!" he barked, finally causing the young Prince to get out of his saddle and wearily step in front of his furious father. "Is it true?" Robert asked with a furious whisper. "Did you send your sworn shield to kill a Lord of the Realm? The son of a man whom I cared for as a brother, the nephew of a man who IS my brother in all but blood? ANSWER ME BOY!"
Joffrey the poor prick shook like a leaf at every single one of the King's words, stubbornly refusing to answer in lieu of closing his eyes and staring sullenly at the ground. "Father," he whimpered only to fall to the ground with a squeal of pain, his mother's shrieks accompanying his own as Robert drove his fist into his cheeks.
"Fucking ingrate," Robert snarled. "You're to be King one day, do you understand that? If you continue to treat your Lords and subjects like that you'll likely end up without a head for your troubles."
Joffrey simply cried while his mother continued to fuss over him, and while he may not care for the little golden shit, Jon did feel a stab of sympathy for him. He was going to get one hell of a bruise, and from what Joffrey spat out would likely also be missing a few teeth.
"I'm sorry about that Jon," Robert said.
"It's in the past Your Grace," Jon answered diplomatically, "But I'll not have the Prince, his sworn sword nor any Lannister guard or bannermen in my keep. I can supply them with either tents outside the walls, or they can seek lodgings with their own coin. The Queen and your younger children, as well of the rest of your party shall naturally have bread and salt."
"How dare you?" Cersei hissed. "You would deny your own Prince?"
Jon stepped closer to the Queen and laid a hand on the pommel of his sword, causing the Kingsguard and several others, on 'both' sides to grab their own sword hilts. "I just knelt to a man who did exactly that," Jon said coldly, almost enjoying how the Queen and Joffrey paled. "Worked out well enough for him didn't it? As long as your son do no harm to me and mine, I won't lift a finger against him, but if he does. . ." Jon trailed off, a vicious grin on his face. "Well. . . user your imaginations. . .My Queen," he finished with a mocking bow.
"ENOUGH!" Robert yelled. "I'll not have my family start a war over this, especially as my own son is the instigator. KINGSLAYER, make sure my wife, eldest son and all the Lannister swords find somewhere to sleep," he said while Jaime tried to protest. "Now Kingslayer," he snarled, effectively silencing Ser Jaime.
For the briefest moment it seemed as the Kingslayer intended to refuse, either that or he contemplated his chance of killing Robert and getting away with it. "As you wish Your Grace," he said finally as he did his best to shoo the Lannister guards out of the fortress courtyard, while Joffrey and Cersei followed him mulishly.
"How the fuck did I father such a son?" Robert asked weakly as he watched them march out.
"The usual way I assume Your Grace," Jon quipped. "I've yet to hear of another way of begetting children."
At least that raised Robert's spirits somewhat. "Gods you're so much like your father it almost painful. Just like your ant Lyanna too when I think on it," Robert finished mournfully, neither of them noticing the sudden look of shock on Oberyn's face, nor how his eyes narrowed in thought.
"Yes well," Jon prevaricated. "My wife Alys as you no doubt remember," Jon said as Alys curtsied slightly. "My daughter Lyarra, and of course my only son Torrhen." Jon showed both of his 'offical' children off to Robert, who took great delight at making funny faces at the two children.
"Only son that you know of eh?" Robert sniggered as he punched Jon's arm, only to pale significantly when he suddenly spotted Oberyn who was watching either Robert or Jon himself with a very shark like grin that gave Jon a bad feeling, almost as if the Dornish Prince was privy to some big secret.
"Your Grace," Oberyn mocked while bowing with a flourish.
"Ah," Robert stated dully. "Prince Oberyn."
"Oh no need to fear," Oberyn comforted. "I find myself in an. . . exalted mood. Gregor Clegane dead, the Lannister's humbled, why the only thing that could have made my day any better was if I could suddenly find out that Rhaegar's children survived."
Just what was so funny about that last bit Jon had no clue to, but whatever kept Oberyn happy also prevented Oberyn from knifing someone, so Jon was more than happy to let Oberyn's weird notions be.
"Whatever," Robert said. "Jon, I assume you'll be feasting us tonight?"
Jon coughed. "Sadly Your Grace, it seems to be that we'll be having rice, bread and ale," Jon apologized. "Nothing left in my larder I am afraid."
Robert almost gasped, the thought of eating so simply seemed to be anathema to him. "Why didn't you tell me m'boy?" Robert asked. "Can't have you running things here on an empty larder. Barristan," he said suddenly as he turned to Barristan. "Remind me to write King's Landing to have some food shipped up here, can't have Brandon's boy live on rice and bread."
Barristan's lips twitched, he had clearly seen through Jon's ruse, but he seemed to either like Jon enough, or despise the King enough not to reveal it. "I'll do so Your Grace," he obligingly replied.
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It was in the middle of the night when Jon woke up. It was due to Winter's scratches and low growls that he woke up in the first place, and as he cleared the sleep from his eyes he could see the giant direwolf scratching furiously on the door, her litter of six pups all standing behind her.
"Alys," Jon whispered to his wife who was still sleeping next to him. "Nevermind," he mumbled as he nuzzled her neck, grinning slightly as she moaned and shifted in her sleep. "Alright, alright," he said in the direction of the impatient direwolves as he groggily got out of the bed and dressed up lightly in a pair of leather trousers and a black woollen shirt, and after a moment of consideration he added a knife into his belt.
"Where are you going?" he questioned Winter who shot off down the corridors at a speed, the pups eagerly following their mother.
She was going quite far it seemed. Down the stairs, past the great hall, out into the courtyard past a pair of startled guards. The great direwolf continued to lead Jon through the large town between the fortress walls and the outer walls, down this street or around that corner, all the way out past the walls themselves until he was almost an hours walk away, and that is when he heard the screams.
A man was screaming in terrible agony, and as Jon got closer he saw who, and more importantly why. Tied to a tree was Amory Lorch, surrounding him were the three oldest Sand Snakes, Prince Oberyn, Princess Arianne and five guards all bearing the Martell Sun and Spear.
"Nice night for a walk," Jon said coolly while laying a restraining hand on Winter's neck, she and her pups snarling and snapping their jaws angrily while baring their long pointy teeth.
"Lord Stark," Oberyn replied. "I had not thought to see you here."
"L-Lord Stark, you have to help me," Lorch sobbed. "Th-they grabbed me in the night."
"Help you?" Jon asked disbelievingly. "Why should I help you?"
Lorch's eyes watered again as he looked pleadingly for help. "I-I am the sworn sword of the Prince, a family friend to the Queen. . ." when he realized that none of this was creating any sympathy he tried another path. "This-this is m-murder Lord Stark, surely you c-cannot approve this."
"Murder?" Jon questioned. "I suppose its only murder when you kill the wrong person, isn't it? Why I remember a tale about a young three year old girl. . .stabbed half a hundred times wasn't she?" he questioned. "Wasn't murder then was it?"
"I-it was war," Lord blubbered. "I had orders."
"Aye it was war," Jon whispered as he stepped closer, standing beside Oberyn who held a dagger in his hand. "And regardless of what her father or grandfather did, Rhaenys Targaryen was no more than an innocent child, and you'll find Ser that I have no patience nor tolerance for child murders."
Jon looked over at Oberyn who had a grim, but approving smile on his face. "How do you want to handle this Prince Oberyn?"
"I want him to feel what my niece felt," Oberyn snarled. "I want to drive this dagger into his belly half a hundred times and watch him die in agony as his guts pour out on the ground."
A fitting end Jon thought. "Questions will be asked," he said.
"I have three men here willing to take responsibility and take the Black."
Jon looked at the three men that Oberyn pointed out. Three of the Martell guards with them, none of them looking a day younger than forty and Jon had to admit that he was impressed. Just as old men in the North told their families that they were going out hunting in the middle of winter as to spare their family from yet another mouth to feed, these three men were willing to spend the rest of their days on the wall to avenge their murdered Princess.
"Make sure they come to me in the morning to admit the deed."
"To you?" Arianne questioned.
"Aye to me," Jon replied. "The King may be here as my guest, but this is my castle, and I am the one who pronounces and executes sentences here," he said darkly, recalling every single one of the few executions or hands he had taken in repayment for murder or stealing. "The man who passes the sentence swings the sword," he explained further at their questioning looks. "He owes the condemned to look into his eyes before taking his head, for if a Lord cannot execute his duty, then perhaps the condemned do not deserve to die."
"You northerners and your honour," Tyene said with a grin.
"Its who we are My Lady," Jon said with a shrug.
"NO!" Lorch shouted just before Oberyn plunged his dagger deep into Lorch's belly.
Jon meanwhile stepped back and watched as the Martells, bastards or trueborn all fell on Lorch with their daggers. The man who disgraced every aspect of Knighthood screamed in pain and panic while pleading incessantly for his life, his pleads and screams losing volume with every thrust until he was finally silent. His head rested on his bloodied chest while his entrails rested at his feet.
"I didn't know you respected the Old Gods so," Jon told the confused Dornish. "The First Men used to over their enemies entrails to the Weirwoods after an execution," he explained as he pointed out the Weirwood tree that they had tied Lorch to.
"Perhaps I'll convert," Oberyn japed. "You northerners are certainly more fascinating than the rest of the Realm would have us believe.
"Oh?" Jon asked as he raised an eyebrow.
"Uncultured and unwashed savages," Oberyn said. "That's the popular thoughts about the northmen in the rest of Westeros."
Jon laughed. "Oh I am a savage," he said. "But at least I am honest about what I am."
"Thank you for this," Oberyn said quietly. "I would have preferred Clegane, but I am glad you let me have this instead of trying to stop us."
Jon nodded, he could only imagine how Oberyn must have felt all these years, knowing that the murderers of his family were not only free, but honoured by the King and Tywin Lannister for their monstrous acts.
"There's still Tywin Lannister," Jon offered with a slight smile.
"Yes," Oberyn said slowly. "Lorch admitted that Tywin had ordered it before you came, but I don't see any way to get to Tywin without starting any wars."
Jon spat on the ground. "From what I've heard of Tywin, it is only a matter of time before he does something to have me killed, when he does loose that temper of his I'll be ready, and I'll dig him out of his little rock with my own hands if I have to."
"When the time comes," Oberyn said slowly. "I'll do my best to see to it that you have as many spears that Dorne can provide, regardless of my brother's desires for peace."
"Then no more need to be said," Jon told him. "Enjoy the rest of your night Prince Oberyn."
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"I should have your heads for this," Robert snarled the next morning when three Dornishment presented themselves to Jon and confessed that during the night they had snuck into the inn where Joffrey slept and proceeded to abduct Lorch so they could kill him outside the walls.
"I agree Your Grace," Jon said gravely. "But at the same time, all three of these are quite the abled men, considering their age, and the Watch is in dire need of more brothers."
Robert looked fit to argue, but eventually sat down again, letting out a tired sigh as he did so. "Blast it boy, why do you have to be right so often?"
"It's a gift Your Grace," Jon said with a small smile before turning his eyes on the three 'contrite' Dornishmen. "You'll be escorted to the Wall by a dozen of my best guards in chains, and if you try to set even a foot down south again I'll take your heads myself understood?"
"Yes Lord Stark," they responded with shivering voices, no doubt faked.
"Halys, see to it that this scum is brought out of my sight, I do not care to look at them," Jon snapped to his Castellan.
"Yes M'Lord," Halys replied as he and a few guardsmen started to drag the Dornishmen out of the hall.
"I apologize Your Grace," Oberyn said with a voice that indicated he was not sorry at all. "I never would have thought that some of my countrymen would just up and murder one of your loyal men in the middle of the night like that."
Jon gaped at the audacity of the Dornish Prince, even if he had been drunk as a horse he wouldn't have believed one word of the tripe Oberyn had just offered, and neither did Robert it seemed.
"Careful Martell," he warned. "I have three confessions, furthermore I have no evidence that you were involved, but I want no further bitching from Dorne. Clegane and Lord both are dead, so if Dorne doesn't let things lie from now on I'll root your entire fucking family out of Sunspear am I clear?"
Oberyn nodded just ever so slightly. "Inescapably so Your Grace."
"Good," Robert spat. "Now I am going out to get drunk and see my two bastards, and if anyone ruins my day when I get back by mentioning anything regarding Lorch, Clegane, Elia, her children or Tywin Fucking Lannister, I am going to smash some skulls."
"Distemperate man," Oberyn muttered, causing Jon to roll his eyes.
"What did you except? You practically baited him."
Oberyn shrugged slightly before giving Jon a calculating look. "For the first time I actually understand and sympathise with Lyanna Stark for running away from that man."
Jon huffed. "Rhaegar kidnapped and raped my aunt," he said through gritted teeth.
"Did he?" Oberyn asked. "I've yet to see any proof of this."
"My own father died when he went to King's Landing to get justice for my aunt," Jon bit back.
"Ah but who told your. . . father, that Lyanna was kidnapped hmm?" Oberyn questioned further. "That, is the great mystery, perhaps your uncle Eddard can provide you with an answer, and answer I myself is most interested in."
Jon sighed, regardless of what he 'knew' about the situation Oberyn was right. Not once had Jon hear his Lord uncle say that Rhaegar had kindapped Lyanna Stark, and he himself was living proof that what 'everyone knew' was not always the truth as all of Westeros had believed for quite some time that he was Eddard Stark's bastard son, rather than the son of Brandon Stark, only the North had suspected for some time, and that was because most Lords of the North had known Brandon in their youth.
"I'll ask him when I go to Winterfell," Jon said. "I assume you still intend to follow yes?"
"Yes," Oberyn replied. "The rest of the Dornish leave on the morrow, Ellaria is the only one, with the exception of my guards who will be accompanying us to Winterfell."
It was fortunate that Cersei and Joffrey were barred from the fortress, and that every single Lannister guard were watched like hawks, as the tantrum the pair threw was so bad that the poor innkeeper had taken his wife and children and hurried out of the inn and refused to return until he had a full dozen of Stark guards, who were all eager to be hosted at any time of the day for the duration of the Queen and Prince's stay.
Robert had barely lasted a few more hours that day before he decided to go out for a hunt, apparently the diet of rice and bread did not suit his palate at all.
The next day the majority of the Dornish left, to Lyarra and Torrhen's dismay, both of them had grown quite attached to Arianne and the Sand Snakes, Nymeria and Tyene in particular who doted upon them just as much as Jon and Alys were won't to do, though Lyarra at least calmed quickly enough after turning her wide grey eyes on the Smalljon who quickly melted, and despite how much he grumbled when Lyarra did her best to groom his beard Jon could see that the big man was enjoying the attention, though he did worry when Jon mentioned that he would tell the Greatjon, no doubt worrying the big man that the Greatjon would only increase his efforts to see him wed.
It took Robert two more days before he decided that he had enough of bread and rice. He had no desire to wait for the month or so it would take for the large amount of various food he had ordered be brought up to Moat Cailin, so instead the King decided that they would ride on to Winterfell, and as expected he wanted Jon to join him.
Jon had been prepared for this, besides he had always intended to visit Winterfell one day soon anyhow, no doubt his uncle would be pleased to see his great niece and nephew, the chance to box Jon's ears in probably wouldn't be amiss either Jon acknowledged, the trouble he had incidentally caused in the south would no doubt had given his uncle more grey hairs. The Smalljon wasn't so eager to go with them, if only for the fact that he had to return home sooner or later, and if he was really unlucky the Greatjon would be in Winterfell.
The journey itself was at least blessed with fair weather, which was fortunate considering how bloody long that fucking wheelhouse took, breaking down no less than six times, forcing them to spend hours fixing it, but when they finally laid eyes on Winterfell it was well worth it. The huge procession, almost a thousand men from the King's party, while Jon himself rode with two hundred and fifty men entered through the gates of Winterfell, the entirety of Winterfell seemed to have shown up as both sides of the road was packed with men, women and children, either cheering the King or occasionally waving small banners of the black crowned stag on a field of yellow of House Baratheon.
"Ned," Robert spoke jovially after he bade the Stark household to rise. "Its good to be back so soon."
"Winterfell is yours as always Your Grace," Ned said as he accepted a great bearhug from Robert who then immediately went on to hug Lady Catelyn.
"Take me to the crypts Ned, I wanna pay my respects," Robert said seriously, immediately causing the Queen to affect her usual look of scorn that she wore whenever Jon was closer than five miles.
"We've been riding for a month my love," she said, causing Jon to valiantly supress a snort at the word 'love'. "Surely the dead can wait."
Robert stared her down, his eyes expressionless while his mouth was in a thin line. "Ned," he said as he started walking towards the crypt, prompting Ned to give an apologetic glance to the Queen before following the King.
"JON!" Jon barely had time to brace himself before he was impacted by Arya, Bran and Rickon, Sansa and Robb at least were courteous enough to walk over instead of jumping him.
"I've missed you little pups," he laughed as he hugged and then ruffled their hair. "You've been behaving for you mother and father?" he asked sharply, mostly at Arya, though Bran also had a habit of worrying Ned and Catelyn Stark with his climbing.
"Arya snuck off to see an execution," Bran babbled before Arya could try to lie.
"Traitor," she snarled as she did her best to pummel Bran who immediately started to retaliate.
"That's enough you two," Robb grinned as he grabbed each of them by their shirts and hoisted them into the air.
"Another deserter?" Jon questioned to Robb who nodded grimly.
"A madman," Robb explained. "He was scared out of his life, speaking of how his brothers had been killed by White Walkers."
"Hmm," Jon said thoughtfully as he stroked his chin. "I've come across my fair share of wildlings who spoke of the same."
"You can't mean to take them seriously," Sansa said, "White Walkers are just a tale."
Jon smiled while pulling her into a hug. "Don't worry about it little sister," he said while giving a meaningful look to Robb, who nodded back.
"I'm not your sister," Sansa said sadly, "You're our cousin."
"Sansa," Jon said as he tilted her head up so he could look into her eyes. "I held you when you were little, kissed your bruises and let you practice braiding my hair," he smiled as she blushed slightly at the reminder of her 'terrible' fives, when her life's ambition seemed to be nothing more than braiding everybody's hair, and no doubt about it she was truly gifted. "You'll always be my little sister, regardless if we're cousins or not, same goes for the rest of you little pups too," he added as he looked at Bran, Arya and Rickon.
"That you," Sansa whispered as she threw her arms around him again.
"Winter seems to have whelped," Robb said as he spotted the six direwolf pups who were all trying to join in on the hugs, either that or they were hungry or eager for bellyrubs which Jon had discovered were their great weakness.
"Aye, they're getting big, already they've gotten off milk and started in on solids."
Robb whistled as he scratched the ear of the biggest of the pups.
"I know," Jon agreed. "Now, why don't the four of you give Alys and the pups another tour of Winterfell? I need to speak to Robb for a moment."
The four youngest Starks eagerly started dragging an amused Alys with them, Sansa greedily picking up Lyarra as they went along while Alys carried Torrhen. Sansa had always wanted another sister who she could dote on, rather than to have Arya who seemed to be Sansa's complete opposite.
Jon followed Robb and Theon into the godswood, Robar, Sandor and the Smalljon also following. "Tell me more about the deserter," Jon said, causing Theon to, rather predictably roll his eyes.
"Surely you don't believe his tall tales Snow?" Theon mocked.
Jon held out a steadying hand at the Smalljon's chest, the great man had already started to move forward. "I know little squid, that Brandon the Builder didn't build a three hundred mile long, seven hundred feet tall wall out of ice and magic to block out wildlings," Jon said calmly. "Furthermore, this is but the latest tale I've heard about people speaking of Walkers being seen beyond the Wall."
"Aye," the Smalljon said. "I don't like the fookers, been killing them all me life, but mark me words. Something has the damn wildlings scared."
"My brother Waymar mentioned in his latest letter that the wildlings were banding together, a former brother of the Nights Watch called Mance Raider appears to lead them."
Robb gave a sad look at Robar. "The deserter mentioned Ser Waymar," Robb said sadly. "He was leading the ranging north, he and another ranger were both killed by the Walkers if the deserter is to be believed."
Robar seemed stricken. "Are- are you sure he said Waymar?"
"Yes," Robb replied.
"I understand if you need some time alone Robar," Jon said as he grasped the older man's shoulder.
"Ye-yes," Robar said. "I'll have to send a raven to my father in the Vale, he'll want to know."
"Of course," Robb said. "Have one of the serfs to guide you to Maester Luwin, hell help you pen and send the letter."
"Does Lord Stark intend to do something?" Jon asked as Robar walked off.
Robb shook his head grimly. "Not to my knowledge no, he seemed to think the man to be mad. A mad man sees what he sees, he told Bran."
"I'd be inclined to agree with him," Jon said after a moment's pause, "but as I said, this is merely the latest of many such tales, Stagsbane here has heard his share too from wildlings found on their lands."
"We'll talk to father later," Robb promised him, before a grin spread across his face. "Now why don't you tell me why the fuck you thought it to be a good idea to take on the Mountain."
"Seemed to be the best way to shut both him and the Queen up," Jon said with a shrug. "Didn't work apparently, as the Queen has been bitching ever since, the golden shit she calls a son doesn't seem to like me either, though part of that has to be from the fact that I stole his dog."
Robb grinned while Theon seemed distinctly uncomfortable, he remembered the Mountain from when he had been one of the men who was present when Balon Greyjoy bent the knee. "Never thought I'd welcome a Clegane into Winterfell," Robb said as he held out his hand to Sandor.
"My brother was a fucking cunt," Sandor said with a grim smile as he shook Robb's hand. "I'm glad the wolf here killed him, and I don't have to hear the little Prince bitch at everything any longer either."
"I'm sure," Robb laughed before turning back to Jon. "Word of warning, mother and father are furious at you."
Jon winced, regardless of the fact that he was a married man and a father, even a Lord of his own right, he still remembered the several occasions where Eddard Stark's patience had run its course of Jon's foolishness and he'd been thrown across his uncle's knee and given a fair beating with the switch.
"Hopefully he'll stop at only words this time," Jon said hopefully.
"Well you killed the Mountain," Robb said sceptically, "So miracles do apparently occur every once in a while."
They were walking back towards the Great Keep by this point. "So, how's married life treating you Jon?" Robb asked.
"Yes Snow," Theon mocked. "How is it to only be able to fuck one woman?"
"I wouldn't know," Jon said with a grin. "I think my skills in the bedchamber is still way better than yours. . . if you have the balls for it you could always ask Princess Arianne Martell of Dorne or her cousins, they certainly weren't complaining, though the Princess' arse might disagree" he finished smugly, savouring the gobsmacked look on the Greyjoy's face.
"Resorting to lies are we Snow," he said, trying to regain the upper hand.
"I wish," the Smalljon grumbled. "Bastards kept me up every night, you have any idea how cruel it is to hear them going at it half the night while I was lying all alone in bed with nothing to do but listen."
"You could always have found yourself a whore," Jon said defensively.
"Fuck no," the Smalljon said angrily. "I'm not so desperate that I have to pay for it, besides I'd just have to show them my big cock and they'd all have left you in a heartbeat."
"U-huh," Jon said sceptically while Robb and Theon sniggered. "And pray tell why did you keep it to yourself? I hear a lot of tales about your allegedly large member, yet none seem to be able to confirm your tales."
The Smalljon glared at Jon. "It's called common decency wolf," he grumbled. "I wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life without a woman warming your bed."
"Either that or you're still a maid too frightened to do anything about it," Jon japed, only to laugh victoriously as the Smalljon promptly shut his mouth.
"Wait," Robb said as he tried to catch his breath. "YOU are a maid? You who can barely avoid mentioning your cock every other sentence."
"Shut up," the Smalljon snarled. "I have. . . problems alright," he said finally. "My mother swore she'd either cut of my cock or have me marry the wench if I ever fucked someone before I was wed."
Jon sniggered as he clapped the Smalljon on his arm. "I think she knows your father too well."
The Smalljon nodded angrily. "Evil bastard probably put her up to it."
"From what I've learned about him I wouldn't say you were off the mark about that," Robb said drily.
They had now returned to the courtyard where activity was still bustling, though more and more people were disappearing in any given direction. Seeing that there was nothing for them to do they all decided to head into the keep itself, with the exception of Theon who shambled off towards the whorehouse in Winter Town with his head hung low.
"Robar," Jon said slowly. "Where the fuck is Prince Oberyn?"
"Oh fuck. . ." Robar said as he too failed to spot the Dornish Prince.
"You brought Prince Oberyn here?" Robb asked stupefied. "Have you lost your wits?"
"Couldn't well refuse him could I?" Jon grumbled. "Besides, he likes me, and he's a swell guy once you get to know him, even if he does have his. . .problems."
The Smalljon snorted. "What the wolf here means is that Oberyn seems disinclined to leave before he gets to sample his skills in the bedroom personally."
"Don't exaggerate," Jon told the big Umber while trying his best to ignore the way Robb and the others were sniggering at his expense.
"Well, so far he's sent two of his daughters and his niece your way to distract you," the Smalljon countered, causing Robb to splutter.
"You mean that was true?" he asked disbelievingly.
"Yes," Jon said with a small hint of pride.
Robb looked at him with the same disbelieving look for a few moments before breaking out in laughter. "Father is going to murder you one of these days Jon. First the Mountain and all that chaos, and now bedding the Princess of Dorne, you do realize what will happen if Princess Arianne returns south with a little wolf in her belly don't you?"
"Bah," Jon waved away his concerns. "They took moon tea. . . I think. . . I'm fucking dead aren't I?"
"There's always the wall," Robar helpfully added as he tried to stop laughing.
It felt good Jon had to admit, to be back in Winterfell and japing with Robb. And while he certainly didn't appreciate being the butt of the joke, he was certainly used to it by now, as most of the best laughs he and Robb had shared had been due to whatever tomfoolery Jon had been caught doing, and due to Jon's admittedly wild nature, Eddard Stark had developed a surprisingly keen nose for sniffing out whatever Jon had done, to both Jon and Arya's despair.
"I fucking hate you guys," Jon grumbled good naturedly as he gave Robb a shove through the doors.
The great hall was as familiar as always, though far busier than it usually was, servants running to and fro, but it became apparent that the preparations for the evening's feast were in their last stages, Lady Catelyn no doubt having started the preparations weeks in advance.
"JON!" the moment Arya and Sansa spotted him again their differences and most likely argument was immediately pushed aside in favour of jumping him. "The pups are so cute," Sansa gushed while Arya herself was far more interested in just trying to squeeze him to death.
"You think so?" he asked them, taking notice of the fact that two of the pups were even now following them around as they had done the moment they were first introduced, another one was following Robb in the same fashion.
"Yes," Arya exclaimed. "Can we keep them? Please?" she begged as she laid into him with her best pleading look.
"Perhaps," Jon said teasingly. "Were it up to me you could, but you'll have to convince your parents, or even Winter for that matter," Jon added as he gestured to the large direwolf that had been his ever faithful companion since he first found her.
"DONE!" Both girls shouted simultaneously, proving that although they may be as different as night and day in both looks and spirit they were still sisters.
"I almost pity uncle having to mediate between the two of them," Jon said fondly as he watched the pair run off, in completely different directions to hunt down their mother or father. "What?" Jon asked as Robb suddenly broke out into loud guffaws.
"Don't tell Arya, but father means for you and Alys to foster her for a few years."
Jon blinked, surely his uncle couldn't be that foolish. "Has he taken leave of his sense?" he asked weakly. "Me fostering Arya, I'm not cut out for that and you know it."
Robb shrugged his shoulders vaguely. "He seems to think that you and Alys may be able to, we all know that besides mother and father you are the only one Arya has ever listened to, for the most part at least," he grinned. "And if Alys can keep you from. . . too much trouble then she should be able to deal with Arya."
"I'll admit that I have reservations about this," Jon said slowly. "But it'll be good to have her around for a bit."
"It is good that you think so Jon," said a voice that sent shivers up Jon's spine. "But don't think for a moment this will let you off the hook, you have a lot to answer for."
Jon turned and as he feared, there stood his uncle Ned Stark, and he did not look pleased. "Uncle," Jon said, "I am happy to see you again."
Robert sniggered at Jon's obvious attempt to lighten the mood. "Take my word for it boy, better to accept your licks now than try to wrangle out of them," Robert said as he ruffled Jon's hair.
So it was a somewhat contrite Jon who followed his father in all but blood up to Ned Stark's solar for a long overdue discussion. Barely had the door been closed before Jon felt Ned Stark's hand smack the side of his face as hard as he could before getting pulled into a hug. "What on earth were you thinking? Taking on the Mountain. I thought you dead when I read the first lines telling of how you fought the Mountain," Ned said as he held Jon close.
"I-I'm sorry father," Jon mumbled, somewhat shocked at how emotional Ned was. "I didn't think."
Ned chuckled morosely. "You never do Jon," he said exasperatedly, "I just fear that one day that impulsiveness is going to be the end of you."
Jon smiled weakly as his uncle finally let him go. "I don't mean to be so impulsive, it just sort of happens."
"It always does," Ned said. "The wolf's blood is strong in you Jon," he said as he gave Jon a reassuring grip on the shoulder. "It has granted you prodigious strength, but you must exercise caution. That same blood led my brother and sister both to their deaths."
Jon frowned slightly, hoping for an explanation.
"Brandon and Lya, they were both like you." Ned said as he sat down in his chair, a distant look on his face. "Gods they were both so wild and free, life to them was all a big jape," he chuckled longingly. "You could always count on Bran and Lya to brighten up your day if you felt down. . .you remind me so much of them."
"I. . ." Jon struggled to find the correct words. He had never seen his uncle quite like this before, though there had been moments where he had seen his uncle angry or upset.
"They would have been proud of you Jon, both of them, but they wouldn't want you to make their mistakes, so please, heed my words just this once will you? Try to be more careful. You are not immortal, for all your strength and skill at arms you are still a man, and like any other man you can die."
"I'll try to be more careful father," Jon whispered.
"It pleases me that you still call me that," Ned said with a smile, "I feared somewhat that you'd stop see me as your father when I told you."
This time it was Jon who grabbed him in a hug. "You'll always be my father," he said. "You raised me, gave me a home, and tolerated my many many misadventures," Ned let out a slight chuckle at that as he stroked Jon's back. "I know I haven't always been the best son, or showed it all that often, but I am proud to call you father."
"Oh Jon," Ned said as he gripped Jon tighter. "Any man would be proud to call you his son, just. . . try to reign in your excesses some," he finished with a grin.
Jon felt a rush of warmth flow through him, irrational as it was, he had always clamoured for Ned Stark's approval, and any time he received it he felt his heart swell in pride. "Thank you," he whispered.
Ned offered Jon a cup of ale and gestured for him to sit. "Now, tell me all about this incident with the Prince and why you saw fit to bar him from your home," he said seriously as he stared at Jon. "Robert mentioned the incident, but also spoke of his desire for Sansa to marry the Prince one day."
Jon sighed as he gladly accepted the cup. "It's a bit of a long story, and we should probably call in Sandor for this, he knows more of the Prince than I do. . ."
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After a very long talk, which had left Ned Stark with a very poor image of the Prince the feast eventually started. Jon and Alys both were sitting at the high table, listening to one bard after another while tasting the many dishes offered.
"I pity the Queen," Alys said softly as she watched King Robert fondle a serving wench to the degree that he was almost fucking her at the table.
"Aye," Jon agreed. "I may not like her, but no woman deserves being dishonoured so by her husband."
"What is wrong?" Alys asked as she saw Jon who still seemed to be distracted.
"Hmm?" Jon asked as he was once again brought out of his thoughts.
"You've been distracted or worried ever since your talk with Robb," she said softly as she stroked little circles on his hand.
"Disturbing rumours," he said finally. "Talks of wildlings and worse up beyond the Wall."
"Why don't you ask your uncle Benjen?" Alys asked as she pointed out his uncle who, true enough had just appeared and was sharing a hug with Ned.
"I'll be back," Jon murmured as he softly kissed Alys.
"Uncle Benjen," Jon said as he gave his uncle a hug.
"Goodness Jon," Benjen exclaimed as he held Jon at arms length. "Still as hale and hearty as ever."
Jon grinned. "You know me uncle."
Benjen returned the grin. "Unfortunately I do, you've no idea what you've done do you?"
Jon blinked, surely he couldn't have done something to affect the wall itself.
"You've forced me to share space with a happy Alliser Thorne," he explained. "Every former Targaryen loyalist, even Maester Aemon have been endlessly happy and somewhat celebratory ever since you blood eagled Clegane. I've had to endure hugs damn you."
Jon sniggered. "What, people not afraid of their First Ranger any longer?" he quipped.
"Ned should've drowned you at birth," Benjen said fondly as he ruffled Jon's hair.
"But uncle," Robb cut in. "If he'd done so, father wouldn't have a few dignified grey hairs."
"Few my frostbitten arse," Benjen laughed. "My older brother is more grey than brown now."
It was true, Ned stark's hair had a healthy amount of grey in it, though it didn't make him look old at all, dignified yes, but never old. In fact the only times Jon could ever recall Ned Stark look old was when the subject of his dead brother or sister brought or. . .or on the few occasions where Jon had really toed the line.
"I'll have you know little brother," Ned growled. "That I'm still young and strong enough to put you over my knee like father used to."
All four Starks laughed at that, it felt good to just laugh together. The occasions to do so had been far too rare, with Benjen at the Wall, and Jon off to somewhere causing mischief no doubt. "I meant to ask you uncle," Jon said as their laughter ended. "The deserter that Father executed the other day."
Benjen grimaced slightly. "He was a good lad, and a true ranger."
"He was rambling about White Walkers," Ned said.
"I don't know what he saw," Benjen said. "I've never seen anything hinting of Walkers but. . ."
"But what?" Robb asked.
"There are stories. More and more wildlings are caught, and they're not going south to raid."
"What do you mean?" Ned asked.
". . .They're fleeing," Jon said flatly, causing Benjen to nod. "I've heard the tales from a few of the wildlings I've fought before. Walkers are returning, and a former brother, Mance Rayder is gathering the clans."
"Aye Jon has the truth of it," Benjen agreed. "The wildlings we've come across have for the most part been terrified, and its also true that the wildlings are banding together. The Haunted Forest is living up to its name now. . .camp after camp is gone Ned, I just returned from a two month long ranging, not a single wildling to be found, and still more and more ranging parties never return, something is happening up beyond the Wall."
Ned was looking grimmer than Jon had ever seen him. "How well prepared is the watch?"
Benjen shared his brother's look. "Worse than ever almost, even with the Ironborn that have been sent up at a steady pace thanks to Jon and Lord Manderly at Sea Dragon Point we're still less than fifteen-hundred men, and that includes, stewards and builders. We've no enough men to properly work the gift, so supplies are low as well."
"What of this Mance Rayder?" Ned asked.
"He used to be a brother at Eastwatch," Benjen said. "I never met the man."
"We did," Robb exclaimed suddenly. "Don't you remember father? 'twas a few years ago when the former Lord Commander Qorgyle visited Winterfell."
"Aye," Ned said as he remembered. "He was a loyal man of the Watch then."
"He deserted a few years ago," Benjen said. "Never heard the full tale, though from how I understand it he was wounded by a shadowcat and healed by a wildling woman who mended his cloak, that's all I know I'm afraid."
Jon at this point also remembered the man. Middle height, broad shoulders and a face lined by laugh lines and brown hair that was turning slightly to grey. Just at that moment there was a commotion as Arya deftly launched a piece of stew that landed perfectly on Sansa's cheek.
"It'll be good when she's off our hands," Robb quipped as he moved to pick up Arya and escort her to bed.
"You'll miss her soon enough," Jon shot back at Robb's retreating back.
"We'll have to speak more of this tomorrow," Ned said tiredly as he watched Robert who had no managed to free the teats of the serving wench he was fondling earlier.
"I'm going out for some air," Jon told Benjen. "I've been stuck in here for too long."
Benjen laughed. "You like Brandon and Lya," he japed. "They could never sit still either, I'll see you on the morrow nephew," he said as he gave Jon a last hug before hurrying off to help out Ned.
Once Jon had entered the Godswood he spotted Robar who was kneeling before the Weirwood, saying a prayer for his brother no doubt. With Robar was one of the bards who had performed earlier, a very familiar bard. His hair may be far more grey now, and his clothes finer than the black Jon had seen him in previously, but there was no mistaking the man.
"Tell me," Jon said as he stepped beside the bard and suddenly slammed him against the tree with his knife held at the man's throat. "What brings you south of the Wall Mance Rayder, or do you prefer King-Beyond-The-Wall?"
AN:/
I struggled a bit on this chapter, not quite knowing exactly how I wanted it to go, while also trying to show that for all of his bravado there is still a more human side to Jon that does crave for familial comforts.
Also, since I was already over 8k words when I finished the last scene here, I decided to end it on a little cliffy, instead of continuing, which would probably have ended up with a chapter at above 15k.
I already have about 2k words written already for the next update which I hope won't be too long.
Also a message goes out to the many of my readers who have had questions about my 'Oneshots/Omakes and Deleted Scenes' story. Any of the chapters posted there are NOT part of the main story, they are, as the title suggests, deleted scenes or omakes or sometimes even challenges. The random numbering is due to the fact that whenever I 'come across' an idea, I number it, jot down a few words/bulleting points, and then return to it at a later day if my muse strikes me, so none of them are to be considered canon unless stated otherwise.
For those wondering I have over a hundred such 'ideas' lying innocently in my archive.