Chapter 6
Jon looked to the king, waiting. The king frowned and stared him down for a moment, then he guffawed. "The Mountain brought down by a mystery knight! This is a tourney to remember!" He roared, though Sansa looked shocked and horrified. His father looked grimly down and shook his head.
The next morning was the final tilt, between he, the now well known Knight of Sweetsong and the Rose Knight, Loras. The King himself watched with great interest - this match would decide who was the best. The two knights prepared themselves, the Knight of roses scowling before he flipped his visor down once more.
Jon spurred his horse forward, couching his lance and pulling up his shield. Time slowed once more as he aimed his lance at Loras' chest, and watching the Rose Knight's lance move towards him. Pulling his shield up instinctively in a fashion where his opponent's lance would glance off. The lance had little time to move before Loras was flung heavily from his seat,landing with an audible 'oomph' and a grunt. It is done. I have won.
The King's roaring laughter startled him. "Ser, you have done well. Remove that helm o' yers and ask me any boon, and I will grant it. King's honor," With that last bit he pounded his chest. And so, Jon removed his helmet. Sansa gasped in shock, Arya shrieked happily, and his father just looked him in his eyes and nodded in approval. Jon stared the king in the eye and then looked to his father.
"My boon… Is to know who my mother is, Father." The king grunted and looked at Ned. "Well, I'll leave that to you, Ned." He nodded his head and then looked to the prizemaster, nodding his head towards Jon. The fellow presented him with a lagre sack of golden dragons and nodded his head. Loras, in the meantime, was furious. "I lost to a bastard son of a Northern lord!? Impossible! I doubt he's ever even had proper jousting training." Jon just shrugged his shoulders and turned to Sam, who had been watching with surprise. "Fetch me a skin of water, Sam. I'm thirsty." Sam closed his mouth, opened it once more, and closed it again before going to fetch a waterskin.
That night, Jon met with his father in the Godswood of the Keep to speak to him. "Jon, your mother... " He looked around to make sure no one was listening, but to make sure he quited his voice. "Jon, your mother was your aunt, Lyanna. But this was no relationship of incest… I am not your father, Jon. I am your uncle. Your real father was Rhaegar Targaryen. It's why you have such prowess with a sword or lance. He was the finest jouster and swordsman, even comparable to Arthur Dayne. You cannot tell this to anyone, however. If the king finds out, he'll have your head."
That night, when Jon was preparing for bed in the honorary guest's room he'd been granted by the king, Varys seemed to materialize out of nowhere. "Jon Snow… It is good to see you. I have heard word of your parentage." He giggled in a strange fashion and continued. "Jon Targaryen. You were right under my nose, and I didn't even see it. I've been waiting for this. Please, follow me." Jon went against his senses and did so.
"Jon, I want what is best for this continent. I want what is best for the realm. What we need is a Targaryen. You don't have the madness in you, thankfully. I see greatness in you, Jon, but if I am going to get you on the throne, I am going to need your cooperation. Are you willing to give that to me, Jon?" Jon thought. Long and hard. He thought of the Iron Throne. He thought of Winterfell. He thought of his family, of Mikken, of Farlen the hound's man. "I… I accept, Lord Varys." The eunuch turned to him and giggled "You have much to learn, Jon. I am no lord." With that, he blew out the candle lighting their faces and giggled.