Chapter 4
Rebekah POV
When Prince Oberyn was out of sight Rerbekah walked straight into her father's solar. Her father looked tired, almost unbelievably so, but also relieved. He had clearly suspected that the Martells would discover the truth about Jon and had feared how they would react. Rebekah would admit that she was surprised with Prince Oberyn honesty about not meaning Jon any enmity, it seems what everyone said about Dorne was true, they do not despise bastards, no matter their parents.
"How much did you overhear?" Her father demanded, sounding rather angry. 'Perhaps I should have waited,' Rebekah lamented slightly, 'But to late to go back now'.
"Everything." She admitted as she took the seat that Prince Oberyn had vacated. "Is it true? Is Jon really the son of Rhaegar Targaryen?" Despite everything that she had heard Rebekah needed to hear it from her father's lips.
"He is." Ned Stark was tired. He had known that the truth would come out sooner or later but he had hoped, rather foolishly in hindsight, that the truth would always stay secret. But he had forgotten one important thing that Jon Arryn had taught him, sooner or later the truth would always be revealed.
"Why didn't you tell mother, or Jon, or me." Rebekah snapped angrily, giving her father a glare that could send grown men into whimpering fools. While Catelyn was nowhere near as bad as Mikael, hell she wasn't even in the same league as him, but it didn't change the fact that she had made Jon's life as unpleasant as possible. She had also succeeded in turning Sansa against Jon and now her younger sister seemed to hate Jon more then her mother did.
"Because I was afraid," her father answered before Ned's expression turned angry. "You had only just been born Rebekah so obviously you weren't there. You weren't there when King's Landing fell." Her father was silent for a few seconds before hew continued, "the joy on Robert's face when he was presented with the bodies of Elia Martell and her children. I knew without a shadow of doubt that if he so much as heard a rumour about who Jon really was then he would not stop until Jon was dead. Better Jon be an alive bastard then a dead Targaryen."
Rebekah's anger faded at her father's words. She had heard about what had happened to Elia Martell and it truly disgusted her. Atrocities were always committed in war and soldiers always disobeyed their commander but there was nothing accidental about what had happened to the Princess of Dorne. There was little worse you could do to a woman besides raping hear, but killing the woman's children, then raping her with their blood on the rapists hands. There was little worse then that in Rebekah's mind.
"Do you trust Prince Oberyn?" Her father asked her after a long silence.
"He sounded honest, but just because he doesn't mean Jon any harm, doesn't mean that no one from Dorne does." Rebekah knew her history well and relations between Dorne and the Targaryens had always been tense at best, even after the double marriages between the Targaryens and Martell's. There were likely more then a few in Dorne who would gladly see house Targaryen wiped out once and for all. "When are you going to tell Jon and mother?" Rebekah asked getting straight to the point.
"And why do they really need to know?" Ned asked causing Rebekah to hold back a literal snarl that would have sounded a lot like the direwolf on their banner.
"Perhaps because if you don't tell Jon Prince Oberyn might." 'And if he doesn't I will,' Rebekah vowed that Jon would know the truth. It should come from her father but if he doesn't have the guts to tell Jon she would do it herself. "And mother deserves to know, maybe then she won't look at Jon like he's less then dirt."
"You have until tomorrow to tell Jon the truth father," Rebekah warned him as she stood up to leave, "otherwise I will." With that said she left her father to make his decision, as Rebekah's thoughts drifted to Jon, the Martell's and the chance of war. Rebekah knew that if it came to war then her father would back Jon's claim, regardless of the fact it would send him into war against his best friend, but that didn't mean that it was a war that they could win. The North could amass up to 40,000 soldiers, including green boys and grey beards. The Manderly's had a rather massive fleet of 100 war ships but there were barely a dozen at the Mikaelson Compound. The reconstruction of Moat Cailin had began but it would be years, possibly even decades before it was anywhere near its former glory.
Then there was the North's external allies. The Riverlands held some of the most fertile lands in the Seven Kingdoms, even more so, ever since Rebekah had introduced modern farming techniques like crop rotations, just as she had done to the North. It was also believed that her grandfather could call upon a host of up to 40,000 but the Riverlands had always been politically divided, plus they were strategically the worst location on the entire continent.
The Vale was also bound to the North through her aunt Lysa. Rebekah grimaced slightly at the thought of her aunt, if evan half of what she had heard about her was true then she was as mad as a bat, who still breastfed her son, who six or seven she believed. Her cousin sweetrobin 'Ridiculous name,' she couldn't help but think, was also a sickly little boy who was unlikely to survive to adulthood. 'No, the Vale can't be counted on,' Rebekah decided.
"I see the heiress of the North is an eavesdropper." An amused voice broke her out of her thoughts. 'Fucking shit,' as she literally jumped a mile and drew her dagger in shock, to the amused laughter of the Prince of Dorne as she glared at him.
"Don't fucking do that." She warned panting slightly, still pointing her dagger at him. She was not happy about the fact that he had been able to sneak up on her. The man just continued smirking as he walked closer to her. The Prince appeared calm and at ease but Rebekah was observant enough to see that in less then a second he could drew the twin daggers on his belt, no doubt coated with a deadly and incurable poison. Rebekah returned her dagger to its sheath, there was no need for it. "And when it concerns my family, I am an eavesdropper." She admitted it.
"So am I." Oberyn replied with the same smirk before it was replaced with a serious look. "You don't trust me, or my daughters." The prince stated, it wasn't a question.
"I like your daughters," Rebekah replied, "but I don't trust them, or you." She admitted. "Did you mean what you said about not baring Jon any ill?" She wanted, no needed to hear it from his own lips.
"I mean it." Oberyn answered truly honest, "I don't blame chaildren for the sins of the father."
"And can you promise the same if everyone in Dorne?" Rebekah questioned.
"I can't," he conceded, "but can you promise that no one in the North would wish to see Jon dead for his parents are?" He questioned and she couldn't. The Targaryens were not well loved in the North, in fact the majority of the lords hated them, and if it became known that Lyanna Stark had not only gone willingly with Rhaegar Targaryen, but Eddard Stark had been hiding a Targaryen in Winterfell for years, it would greatly weaken the position of the Starks. In fact it may even give Roose Bolton the support the man needed to put his plans into action.
"I can't." Rebekah stated a little reluctant. "You said to my father that you believed one of the reasons you were here was to find out the truth about Jon, what was the other reason?" She asked him.
"To create a betrothal between our families. My nephew Prince Trystane for your sister Arya." His niece Arianne was far to old for the Stark boys, and if Oberyn's suspicions were correct then his brother would wish for Arianne to marry Jon Snow, after all Viserys Targaryen was proving himself to be a bitter disappointment. Doran also already had a marriage in mind for Qyntane, which only left Trystane. He was a couple years older then Arya but far worse matches had been made.
"You'd have to talk to my father about that." Rebekah told him, she really couldn't picture Arya liking the idea of being betrothed, her sister was as stubborn and hotheaded as they come. But the Dornish were far more liberal and open minded then any other region in Westeros. Rebekah could imagine her little sister being happy in Dorne, even if she wouldn't be happily married. "Do you mean to use Jon for revenge?" She questioned him.
"What do you mean?" Oberyn questioned even though he knew exactly what she meant.
"Your family's desire for vengeance is well known, not that I can blame you, but will you use Jon get your vengeance?" If both her father and the Martells declared for Jon then he would have the two kingdoms with the strongest natural defences behind him, more then enough to shatter the Lannister and Baratheon armies.
"If I truly wanted a war, I would have killed Tywin Lannister years ago, regardless of the consequences." Oberyn answered her. "I would gladly go to war against the Lannisters and Baratheons but I won't put Dorne through a needless war unless I have no choice."
"Good, because if house Martell is responsible for the truth about Jon being revealed then I promise you Prince Oberyn, that will regret it." Rebekah promised him. Some might call her a fool for threatening the Red Viper of Dorne, but Rebekah was no fool, and while she couldn't beat him in a fair fight Rebekah didn't fight fair.
"Is that a threat, lady Stark?" Oberyn asked in an amused tone, but she could detect the dangerous hint in it.
Rebekah smirked and for a very quick second changed her eyes to what they truly were, but only for a moment. "Of course not my prince. Please enjoy the remainder of your stay in Winterfell." She answered as she headed to her chambers, leaving a confused prince in her wake.
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Jon POV
There was something going on. Jon didn't know what it was but there was definitely something going on. For starters Rebekah had been acting very strangely, as if she wanted to say something to him but wouldn't, and it was also in the way she looked at the Dornish. In distrust, strange since he knew that Rebekah had been getting along very well with them. Jon knew his sister well enough that whatever she was hiding was clearly important in the way she acted. "Jon." His father said to him coming up behind. Turning to face his father he could have sworn that the man seemed to have aged a decade in a single day.
"Lord Stark." In private Jon was free to call this man father, but in public he was forced to address him by what he was, the Lord of Winterfell, nothing more or less.
"Come with me Jon, there's something I need to tell you, something I should have told you long ago." Eddard revealed in a tone that seemed warn and tired, which currently seemed to be the best way to describe his father.
On the way to his father's solar Jon's thoughts were going a mile a minute. Was his father finally going to tell him what he wanted to know, who his father was, Jon hoped so but after so many years of asking his father for the truth he really didn't feel certain.
"Have a seat." Eddard said as he sat down at they both sat down at his desk. "Can you guess why you're here?" His father asked him to which Jon simply shook his head. He really had no idea. It could be about his mother or for all he knew Lady Stark had finally gotten her wish and he was being sent away. "I'm telling you the truth, a truth I should have told you years ago." His father began.
Eddard explained everything, the tourney of Harrenhall and the knight of the laughing tree. Lyanna Stark's so called kidnapping and finally the Tower of Joy. Jon was in shock he couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. "Jon are you okay?" His father- no his uncle asked him softly.
'How can I be okay,' Jon wanted to scream but he didn't, he didn't say a word. People often spoke about how the bastard of Winterfell was solemn and silent regardless of the situation and that proved true in that situation. "May I be excused Lord Stark?" He asked formally but Jon needed to leave, he just needed to and when his uncle nodded his consent he left without a second thought.
Jon headed out of the castle, straight into the Godswood. He and fath- no his uncle were the only members of their family to pray only to the Old Gods. Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon prayed to both the Old and New Gods while Jon knew that Rebekah didn't believe in the gods, though he didn't know why.
Jon couldn't quite fathom it really, Rhaegar Targaryen, the silver prince, or the silver fool as he had heard Rebekah once call him, was his father. Much like many in the North Jon didn't really have a high opinion of the Targaryen family, which now actually amused him slightly. But that was nowhere near as shocking as the fact that Aerys Targaryen, the fucking mad King was his grandfather, who also responsible for the death of his other grandfather. "My family truly is fucked up." Jon couldn't help but mutter as he stared into the sap covered eyes of the heart tree.
"That's one way of putting it," a voice that he recognised as his sis- No his cousin Jon reminded himself as he turned to face her. Rebekah stood at the edge of the Godswood, seeming a little unsure about how to proceed.
"Rebekah, did you know?" He asked her, trying to keep his voice even but he was struggling. Jon was aware enough that he was still in shock, and he was angry, confused and even a tad scared. When Rebekah nodded he felt his temper snap. "Then why didn't you say anything?" He snapped at her. "How could you not tell me?" He asked her with a hollow voice.
"Because it should have come from father and it did." Rebekah stated calmly. "How do you feel?" She asked him in concern.
"How am I supposed to feel?" He screamed at her as he took a few steps towards her. "Everything that happened is my fault. The war, the slaughter, the death of my siblings." He then gave a short bitter laugh. "Even my own mother died giving birth to me, and anyone finds out about who I am then the Lannister and Baratheons will- SMACK.
So caught up in his rant and anger that Jon didn't notice the hand that went flying towards his face, but he sure as hell felt it burning his cheek. Blinking a few times he could see Rebekah's no really calm and beautiful blue eyes blazing with a fury that he had never seen from her. "Listen to me Jon, the rebellion was in no way your fault. You want to know whose fault it was, it war Aerys fucking Targaryens fault, NOT YOURS. And your aunt Lyanna was only fourteen when she gave birth to you, far too young to give birth, which makes it Rhaegar's fault, not yours. And as for what happened to your siblings well the blame for their deaths is placed solely on the hands of Tywin Lannister and his dogs, he didn't have to kill them, in fact they would have been far more valuable alive then dead, but that old bastard chose to kill them out of spite." Rebekah took a deep breath as she calmed herself down and tried to a different approach to convince Jon that what happened decades ago wasn't his fault. "Jon, you need to talk to Prince Oberyn?"
"The Red Viper?" Jon asked sounding a little baffled. The Prince of Dorne didn't exactly strike Jon as someone he should talk to, especially the role his parents played in starting the war.
"Yes. Despite his hatred for Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister he bares you no ill will. You should talk to him, it would do you a world of good." Rebekah advised and after giving him a comforting hug she exited the Godswood.
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Catelyn POV
Catelyn rushed out of her husbands solar as fast as her feet could take her, her mind a rush of emotions, anger and guilt being the most prominent as her thoughts drifted to the bast- to Jon Snow, she corrected herself.
Catelyn could still remember the vow she had made so many years ago. 'I will be a mother to him. I will make him a Stark,' she remembered but now it was too late. It was far to late for her to ever be a mother to the boy now, in fact she knew that the boy, though he hid it well, held nothing but disdain for her and any attempt at reconciliation she made with Jon would be viewed with suspicion and mistrust.
She was also angry at her husband, angry and hurt. He had kept something so important from her for so many years that she could barely even look at him at the moment. It was with that anger in mind that she headed straight to her personal chambers and Catelyn began writing to someone she hadn't even seen since before Robert's Rebellion.
Dear Petyr,
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Rebekah POV
"I don't want to be betrothed!" Arya yelled in outrage while Rebekah simply sighed. They had wisely decided to wait until after the Martells had left before informing Arya of her betrothal to Trystane Martell. Rebekah was actually quite sad that the Martells, well the Sand Snakes had left, they had been a breath of fresh air compared to the countless curtesy' she had gone through with the daughters of all the Northern lords.
"It's not even official yet." Rebekah reminded her sister, "Trystane will spend a year in Winterfell then the two of you will spend a year in Sunspear. At the end of it if the two of you don't like each other then you won't get married. Father isn't going to force you into a marriage that you don't want."
"I don't care." Arya snapped back. "I never want to get married." Rebekah wondered the best way to handle the situation. And like with everything else the solution came from Arya's rivalry with Sansa.
"You know if you marry Trystane then you will be a Princess." Rebekah reminded her favourite sibling, wondering how long it would take her to work it out. Arya was smart but at the same time she could also be as thick as a plank.
"I don't want to be a princess." Arya replied as she threw her throwing knife at the large oak tree, before going to the tree and pulling it out. The two of them were in the outskirts of Winterfell, near the Godswood.
Rebekah and Arya had attempted, and pleaded in Arya's case, with their parents to train Arya how to fight but unlike when Rebekah had requested to learn how to fight, their parents had refused to budge, regardless of what tactic she and her sister had attempted to convince them. Personally, Rebekah thought that her parents wanted another perfect daughter like Sansa, unfortunately for them they weren't going to get one.
With their parents refusal that Arya be taught how to fight Rebekah had taken it upon herself to train her sister in secret. Arya wasn't very skilled with a sword but she had proven to have rather remarkable hand eye coordination, which resulted in her being rather proficient in archery and with throwing knives.
"That's true." Rebekah stated with a smirk as she threw her own knife at the tree, perfectly hitting the centre of the self carved target. "But Sansa does." Arya was confused for a few moments before she started chuckling, then giggling and then it involved into a full blown laughter which proved to be infectious as Rebekah started laughing as well. All girls, lowborn and high born dreamed of being a princess, but Sansa had never let go of that dream and she had actually cried when she had learnt of her betrothal to Domeric. Not because of his families reputation or any similar reason but because it meant that she would never be married to the Crown Prince, who she had never met and was by all accounts a right little prick.
"Well that is a very good point." Arya admitted reluctantly.
"It is, besides if Prince Trystane is anything like his uncle then you will be a very lucky lady." Rebekah replied with a small smirk. After all, despite being in his forties the Red Viper of Dorne was an exceptionally handsome man, and rumoured to be an exceptional lover.
"What do you mean by that?" Arya asked a little confused by what her sister meant.
Rebekah simply let out a small laugh. "I'll tell you when you're a little older Arya." She answered with a smile as her sister pouted in annoyance.
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Jon POV
Jon looked intensively at the statue of Lyanna Stark, his mother. Jon had spent the last few days asking the older population of Winterfell, Lord Stark, and remembering what Prince Oberyn had told him and he had come to the conclusion that Lyanna Stark was a spoilt brat. Rather then trying to find some form of happiness with Robert Baratheon she had decided to run off with a married man, and eloped with said married man.
In truth Jon couldn't help but feel sorry for Robert Baratheon, despite the fact that the man had spat at the bodies of his step mother and half siblings. In his quest to find out more about his mother Jon had learnt about a visit the King had made to Winterfell back when he was simply the heir of Storm's End.
It was said that Robert had showered his mother with praises and gifts and that even a blind man would have been able to see the love the King had held for his mother. But all Lyanna had given Robert in return for his affections was scorn and thinly veiled insults. No, Jon Snow, or Aemon Targaryen, or whatever the hell his name truly was, did not have a high opinion of his mother.
'Or my father,' he thought bitterly as he felt his hands clench in anger. In his opinion Rhaegar Targaryen, the so called Silver Prince, was a complete and utter bastard. The man cared nothing about his wife or children, only his prophecies. Otherwise he wouldn't have left Elia Martell or his siblings Aegon and Rhaenys to the mercy of the Mad King. Jon also knew that Rhaegar also wouldn't have been pleased with him as he wasn't a Visenya, and he didn't fit the man's stupid prophecy, the dragon needs three heads. 'No, that man is not my father,' Jon decided without a second of doubt, 'Eddard Stark is my father'.
After giving one last glance at the statue of his mother Jon Snow proceeded to leave the crypts of Winterfell for good. Walking through the courtyard of Winterfell he headed straight towards his father's solar. The guards littered around the halls of the corridors of Winterfell did nothing to stop his course, they knew he wouldn't harm his father. When he reached the entrance to his father's solar he knocked thrice times on the door.
"Enter," his father called out and he did so. "Jon, what can I do for you?" His father asked, getting up from his seat behind his desk.
"I just wanted to thank you." Jon started off. It probably didn't need to be said, but it was something that Jon felt he should say. A lesser man would have left him out to die, and even many so called honourable would not have raised the son of their enemy. But despite everything that Eddard Stark had lost to House Targaryen, his father still raised him among his own children.
"There's no need Jon," his father began before he interrupted him.
"Yes there is father." Jon said, noting the widening his his eyes at the last word. "You could have left me in Dorne, or sent me to the Wall, but you didn't. Instead you brought me to Winterfell and raised me as your son, and for that I thank you father."
"You are my family Jon, and all that's left of my sister. I know you didn't have the easiest life..."
"I'm far luckier then most, my half siblings included." Eddard Stark had a small wince at the mention of Aegon and Rhaenys, even though he wasn't responsible for what happened to the prince and princess he had long since felt a great deal of guilt about what had happened. "And there's no such thing as an easy life father."
"Wise of you." Eddard stated with a small smile before it turned into a frown. "But there's something else isn't there?" He questioned the man he viewed as his son.
"There is," Jon admitted, feeling a bit confused about how he should proceed. "I used to think that I would end up joining the Nights Watch." He started.
"The Nights Watch is an honourable order." His father couldn't help but state.
"True, but I used to believe that there was nowhere else that a bastard could find their place in the world." Jon stated, and he still believed it. "And while it's possible that I might one day join the Nights Watch, I don't wish to yet, but."
His father was confused for a moment before realisation dawned on him. "You wish to leave Winterfell?" Eddard guessed, to which Jon nodded. It was strange, when he thought he was a bastard Jon believed that he had no place in the world, something that he couldn't help but believe was stupid since he felt his opinions on the matter change.
"I want to see the world father," Jon admitted openly. "I want to see the Titan of Braavos, the great bridge of Volantis and the pyramids of the East." There were so many wonders in the world, and Jon wanted to at least be able to say that he had seen some of them.
Ned was conflicted, after all Jon would be much safer in Winterfell, and not just from those who would wish him harm for who his parents were. The world was filled with cutthroat and bandits, traveling the world sounded like a novel idea but in reality it was very dangerous. "And if I should refuse you?" He asked Jon, causing him to gain a stubborn glint in his eyes that he immediately recognised as belonging to his late sister Lyanna.
"Then I will simply sneak out of the castle in the middle of the Nights, borrow a horse from the Winterfell stab,Es and be gone by morning." Jon spoke in a stubborn and determined voice and to his surprise his father simply let out a few chuckles.
"Follow me Jon." Ned stated as he left his solar, leaving his nephew to follow him. Jon followed his father until they reached the Winterfell armoury.
"The armoury?" He asked his uncle slightly confused. He already had some armour, as well as a sword and dagger, which was all in good quality. He didn't really need another weapon.
"Indeed." Ned replied as the two of them walked through the armoury, which Jon admired slightly. It was well stocked and supplied, without any of the needless ornaments and decorations that existed on weapons in the South. It didn't matter if you had a simple second hand sword or one plated in gold. A weapon was a weapon.
The two of them walked to the edge of the armoury which held a bolted door. Jon could remember himself and Rebekah trying to open that very door many years ago to try and find out what was inside it but they never could.
Withdrawing a key from his pocket Ned unlocked the door, and started to open the door, creaking as it slowly opened. Looking inside he only saw a small, dusty cupboard, but also a sword holder and a sword. The hilt of the sword appeared to be made of solid gold, while the pommel was designed in the shape of a flame. And at the centre of the cross, there was a small but distinct gem, a ruby unless Jon was mistaken. The scabbard itself was pitch black, made of dark leather just like the grip. Despite his opinions on weapons Jon couldn't deny that it was a very beautiful sword.
Picking up the sword from its holding Ned gave it to Jon. Withdrawing the sword a few inches from its scabbard and immediately noticed the distinct dark ripples and patterns running along the blade. "This is Valyrian steel." He stated as he stared at the blade in shock. Valyrian steel blades were the rarest in the world, with their believed to be less the two hundred that managed to survive the doom of Valyria. "How do you have this?" Jon couldn't help but ask Ned in shock.
"My brother Benjen found it north of the Wall on a ranging many years ago." Ned explained . "And it's yours now?"
"Father I can't." Jon replied shaking his head as he held the blade back to his father.
"This is your families sword Jon," Ned stated. "And it is more your blade then it will ever be mine."
At his father's words he took another look at the blade in his hand, really looked at it. It was a rather slim blade, a contrast to most swords and if it wasn't made out of Valyrian steel then it would possibly shatter after a few blows. And on the pommel of the sword there was a small symbol scratched into it. The symbol of a three headed dragon. "This is Dark Sister." He stated, to which Ned nodded. The ancient Valyrian steel sword that was first wielded by Visenya Targaryen and was lost beyond the Wall. "How did uncle Benjen find it?" He asked, staring at the blade with new found interest. Just because Jon had no respect for Rhaegar Targaryen, didn't mean that he wasn't fascinated by several members of his father's family.
"Your great uncle Aemon Targaryen, who is the maester of Castle Black, told your uncle of its location when I told them both about your parentage." Ned explained, piquing Jon's interest. He had not thought that there was another Targaryen in Westeros. Hell, he hadn't even thought that there were any other Targaryens apart from his uncle Viserys and his aunt Daenerys.
'Aemon Targaryen, my namesake,' he thought, making a mental note to get in contact with the man at some point. Ned and Prince Oberyn had told him what they could of House Targaryen but Maester Aemon would be the only living source who could tell him what he wanted to know, needed to know.
"Thank you father," Jon stated as he still stared at the blade, before strapping the blade at his waist, its weight feeling uncomfortable and even a little unnerving.
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Jon sat crouched before a small campfire. He was roughly a days ride from Winterfell, and two days from the Mikaelson compound, after which he planned to book passage on a ship to either Seaguard or Lannisport. Likely the former, the further away he was from Casterly Rock the better. The chances of Tywin Lannister actually knowing who he was was practically nonexistent but better to be safe then sorry.
His father had given him a horse for his journey as well as a good deal of silver stags and even a couple of gold dragons, which should last him for a good few months, what he'd do after that Jon would work out when he crossed that bridge. Bran, Rickon and even Sansa had not been happy with him leaving but they had accepted it when he promised to write and send them gifts, and in Sansa's case bring stories of the South, all of which he intended to do.
Arya had been near heartbroken when he told his family that he would be leaving, but he had given her the perfect going away present. Jon knew that Rebekah was training Arya how to fight, in fact whenever Rebekah was away at the Mikaelson castle, or one of the other Northern holdfasts he actually trained her himself. Arya was too short and slim to wield any ordinary sword, but that didn't make her incapable of wielding one. Jon researched the Braavosi style blades which would suite Arya perfectly and he had hired Mikken to produce one, which he had given to Arya just before he left.
Rebekah also hadn't been happy about him leaving, in fact for a few moments Jon was afraid that she would slap him again but luckily she didn't. He also knew that she was also a little jealous about him. Jon knew that she wanted to see the world just like he did but she was stuck in the North with her duties and responsibilities.
The sound of a snapped twig caught his attention and raised his suspicions as he stood up, with his hand on his sword. A normal sword as he had left Dark Sister at Winterfell. Jon knew that travelling Westeros wasn't necessarily safe and having a Valyrian steel sword would only attract unnecessary attention, and he had told his father and Rebekah that it was a guaranty that he would return, to collect his sword.
"Who's there?" He demanded, withdrawing his sword a few inches, his body tense and he was more then ready for a fight if need be.
CRACK. Another twig snapped, this time from behind him and he felt the cold and no doubt sharp steel of a dagger at the back of his neck. Immediately Jon let go of his sword and held his arms in the air slightly.
"I'd ask you for money," an amused and female voice that he immediately recognised said, and immediately Jon relaxed. "But I know you don't have any." She continued.
"Rebekah." He said in a fake annoyed voice as he turned around to greet her. She wore the largest smirk on her face that he had ever seen and he could tell that she was fighting her every urge not to burst into laughter. "I should have known that you wouldn't stay in Winterfell." He told her.
"You know nothing Jon Targaryen." She spoke with the same smirk on her face. 'Jon Targaryen,' he thought for a moment and Jon decided he liked that name. Better then Jon Snow or Aemon Targaryen.
End of chapter 4. Please review.
Saint River: You're right, Jon wouldn't want the Iron Throne, but Jon won't be the one who starts the war. And your right that making Theon a Kingsgaurd would mean an annoying amount of character development, so I'll probably decide to just keep him as Lord of Pyke and the Iron Islands.
Also neither Rhaegar or Lyanna will be written in high esteem in this story as they are respectively a complete dick and a spoilt brat, and after Ellaria Sand and Catelyn Tully they are my least favourite characters.
Sorry for the delay but real life has just been getting in the way but I got the seventh season of GOT for Christmas and I can feel my inspiration returning.