Chapter 04 – The Shadow of the King

The trip from Gulltown to Dragonstone, so far, wasn't that bad. After all, it's difficult to top a shipwreck. Jon, unlike his first time, did not throw up, and the food on the Black Betha was way better too. The crew, captained by Ser Davos Seaworth consisted mainly of veteran sailors, who fought for the crown in the Greyjoy Rebellion.

He enjoyed listening to tales of their exploits, such as the Battle of Fair Isle, where they defeated the Iron Fleet, clearing the way so King Robert could land in Pyke. His own experience in the Raid of Wreckers' Den was insignificant when compared to theirs, but they listened to him anyway, congratulating him on his quick thinking that saved Godric Borrell's life.

As amiable as the crew was, Jon's favorite activity on the ship was accompanying the captain himself, Ser Davos. The middle-aged man with brown hair not only fought beside these men at the Greyjoy Rebellion but also played a major role during Robert's Rebellion, smuggling onions and salted fish to the besieged castle of Storm's End. His feat, a minor one when compared to the most remembered episodes of the war such as the Battle of the Bells and the Battle of the Trident was proven to be as important as those, as it prevented the fall of House Baratheon's ancestral seat.

Davos was living proof that one could thrive despite the circumstances surrounding their birth as he rose from a life of hardship at Flea Bottom to one of the most notorious smugglers in the Seven Kingdoms, and once again from a smuggler to a knight with lands at Stormlands' Cape Wrath.

The wizened sailor could not read but was knowledgeable in many things. He had been to every port in the Seven Kingdoms and went as far as Essos and even beyond the wall, where he traded with the wildlings.

Jon, as much as he liked listening to tales of Davos' exploits, asked him about a different subject.

"What you should expect of Lord Stannis?"

Davos stopped for a few seconds. "I believe my opinion about him is biased, as most of the things I have were given by him. Thus, I won't sing him any praises as this is probably isn't what you are looking for."

"Lord Stannis is a fair ruler; he upholds justice and truth in the highest of the regards…and is punished dearly for it."

This caused Snow to frown. "How so?"

"Robert blamed him for allowing the remaining Targaryens to escape. Some, including myself, believe this was why Stannis was looked over by his brother, who gave Storm's End to Renly rather than him."

"But what if Robert followed the Targaryen tradition of giving Dragonstone to their heirs?" Jon inquired.

"Unlikely." Davos said. "The man hated the dynasty as a whole, hence why he was so lenient with Jaime and Tywin Lannister regarding their involvement in the slaughter of the Targaryens in King's Landing. I can't see him willingly paying homage to them."

Jon nodded. "I assume, Stannis shares your opinion."

"He considers Storm's End as his birthright, it's common knowledge. He never disrespected King Robert's orders, in fact, he does his utmost to ensure the running of the kingdom. But he never lies, so, if you ask him, he will say the same thing."

"Anything else I should know?"

Davos shook his head. "Do not speak out of turn, and don't tell lies. Stannis is harsh but reasonable."

The son of Eddard Stark sighed. In his mind, Davos' opinions held merit but were only partially correct. One glance at the sailor's left hand was enough to assure Stannis' harshness but did nothing to attest how reasonable he truly was.

Setting his foot on Dragonstone turned out to be an overwhelming sensation. Not only because he finally reached land after an entire fortnight at the sea, but also because the island could at the same time mesmerize and intimidate visitors.

The architecture set the castle named after the island apart from any other keep in Westeros, maybe even beyond as it was built not by masons and architects, but by mages and warlocks of Old Valyria. The stone was shaped by art long lost in time to look like living dragons in a nest, although Jon could spot other creatures displayed, such as gargoyles. Ever since he took upon reading books, he got fascinated by history and heritage, and Dragonstone presented both. It was the only remaining keep of the Valyrian Freehold, as all the others were destroyed in the Doom. Inside these walls Aegon planned alongside his sisters the Conquest of Westeros, thus taking the first step in establishing the Iron Throne. Even at only thirteen name days, Jon knew this memory of visiting Dragonstone would forever be etched in his mind.

On the other hand, Dragonstone did not earn its grim, even darkish reputation by chance. The black stone dragons and gargoyles were menacing enough, but it was the combination of volcano and sea that made the island such a dreary and ominous place. It was amusing to notice that those two natural elements, almost always viewed as opposites could combine so seamlessly. The sea provided dampness to the island, exerting some sort of pressure, that was reinforced by the loud, unpredictable crashing of waves on the rocks. The volcano overwhelmed him by providing, constant, almost excruciating heat alongside an unpleasant, sulphury smell.

Ser Davos said King's Landing smells even worse. If that's the case, then I truly pity King Robert.

As strange as it was to say that about the family responsible for the death of his grandfather, uncle, and aunt, Jon could sympathize with the Targaryens who lived here for centuries. Soon enough the feeling of awe he felt upon seeing the castle would pass and all he would feel was how oppressive and dreary the island felt.

I can see why the conqueror was so keen on leaving this island and settling on more welcoming lands.

Now, he truly hoped Stannis was a fan of Sulphur, salt, and grimness, otherwise, this audience had a real chance of being unpleasant for him.

Still, the man in question was Lord of Dragonstone and Master of Ships, so he couldn't entertain him, a lowly bastard, at whim.

With free time, he opted to explore the island rather than stay at the grim castle. The village on the outskirts of the castle reminded him a bit of some minor northern villages. Dragonstone, despite its strategic importance as a stronghold in the Narrow Sea and guarding the entry to Blackwater Bay and King's Landing, was not big enough to support a large population, and the commonfolk consisted mainly of fishermen. Even then, the sea was too treacherous to make them comfortable enough to fish for profit rather than subsistence.

Thus, the only noteworthy sight was the appearance of some natives, who still displayed minor traits of those descended from Old Valyria, undoubtedly descendants of dalliances of the Targaryens of old.

Despite most of the accounts of Maesters describing the Targaryen dynasty as possessing appealing traits, Jon did not find the women there attractive at all, although he surmised the life of hardships at Dragonstone would have taken their toll on them. Still, it was interesting to see the violet eyes and the silver hair that was attributed to the blood of Old Valyria, as he doubted the Targaryens would ever set foot again on Westeros.

Since there was no storm on the horizon most of the residents were at the sea. Apart from the docks, there was nothing worth paying attention to in the village. With that in mind, he decided to go to his next destination, one that was certain to be unique.

The Dragonmont was famed for once being the place where the Targaryen dragons built their lairs. Now, only one dragon took the sky: Ebrion, and hopefully, it was far away from the Seven Kingdoms.

Before letting him go explore the island, Davos warned him to be mindful of both the heat and his path as there were several occurrences of smallfolk getting lost for days, and even perishing from dehydration. Heeding Davos' advice, he took the route leading to the main set of caves, as he wanted to see what a dragon lair looked like.

Descending into the volcano was unpleasant, but not unbearable. The deeper he delved into the complex of caves, the more the heat rose, alongside the sulfurous smell. By the time he reached his final destination, he was sweating like a pig and missing the North dearly.

The only detail that set that particular cave aside from others were the large claw marks, some as large as his torso and some charred remains that were now fused to the stone floor. Still, the relatively small size of the cave made it unlikely it belonged to one of the larger dragons.

He took the vermilion egg from his satchel and set it at the center of the room. The egg's heat saved him at the sea, had he not felt a burning sensation he probably would've sunk too deep into the sea to recover. Now that he thought back on it, there was no plausible explanation for the sudden release of heat at that time.

For the entire time that the egg was in his possession, Jon believed it to be no more than a trinket, albeit a valuable one, the dragon supposed to hatch from the egg dead before it was even born. Now, he was not so sure anymore.

The egg reacted to the Dragonmont in a certain way. It felt warmer, and its color more vibrant, even the scales that adorned the egg now had more detail.

Most of the knowledge of dragons was lost in the doom, and apparently, even the Targaryen dynasty had no idea how to bring them back, as many tried after the last one died out. Summerhall was proof that even one of the best Targaryen rulers in Aegon V, the Unlikely, was blindsided by his own obsession to bring back the dragons to life.

Jon himself was far from being a scholar and held little to no knowledge of dragons' mating habits. So, he refrained himself from making any sort of assumption regarding why Ebrion hatched and why this egg did not fossilize like many others.

It truly bothered Jon not knowing things, but he had to admit this was a pointless affair. Not even Maesters knew much about dragons, and he could hardly go asking around without drawing even more attention to himself.

With that in mind, he decided to depart and head back to the castle, taking the egg with him once again.

Apparently, somewhere along the way, he got lost and ended up in a different place inside the set of caves. Rather than ending back at the entry of the volcano, he reached a chamber with vast deposits of dragonglass. The black material was found in ledges and entire boulders, some twice the size of the Greatjon.

He wondered why Stannis or any previous Targaryen who held Dragonstone never mined the glass found there. Surely, it was supposed to be more profitable than fishing.

He picked up a small chunk of the dragonglass of the size of his palm. The material was pretty to look at but seldom used. He remembered receiving a direwolf figurine at White Harbor from the sailor, alongside the ones he brought for his siblings.

I left mine in Winterfell. Wolves of the North don't belong south of the Neck father once said. Yet, I'm just a Snow, not a Stark. Never a Stark.

He decided to pocket the chunk alongside the egg in his satchel, get a keepsake of the dreariest island in Westeros to tell the tale.

In his attempts to find his way back, Jon wandered even further, before stopping at an intriguing scene.

An old man, dressed in Maester's robes, with balding hair and a long beard, using a pickaxe at a deposit of green-colored glass, unlike anything he ever saw.

"Sir." Jon called out, causing the man to stop his actions.

"Yes?" he asked as he faced him. He gave him a look over. "You got lost?"

The bastard nodded sheepishly.

The Maester chuckled. "It happened to me too at my first here."

"Can you give me the directions to head back? I need to meet with Lord Stannis."

"You're Jon Snow?"

This caused the bastard to frown. "How do you know?"

"I'm Stannis' Maester, Cressen. We were informed by the crown to be on the lookout for Eddard Stark's baseborn son, who was said to have left the North. At the same time, a raven came at the behest of Ser Davos, informing him he was bringing an envoy from the Three Sisters. The envoys' name? Jon Snow."

Fuck. He cursed in his mind. The man already knows.

As it seems, he kept looking around too much as the Maester was prompted to speak once again. "If I were you, I'd refrain from attempting an escape. You'll probably get lost once again, and even if you did ships seldom leave this island."

Jon sighed. "Stannis will send me back North, isn't he?"

"He will hear you out first, both in regards to what happened at the Three Sisters and why you left Winterfell."

The boy let out another sigh, before glancing at the feeble old man. "What are you doing?"

"Collecting dragonglass for my studies."

"That's dragonglass?" he asked, earning an affirmative nod from Cressen. "But it's green."

"Hence why, I'm extracting it. Dragonglass is usually black, but here in Dragonstone, it appears in different colors too. Green, purple and red."

"Why?"

"That's the point of studying it. Some of my colleagues assume it's because of the Dragonmont, others say it has to do with the dragons that once built their lairs in here, and some even say it's the dragonglass obtained color as an aftermath of a ritual made by the Valyrians of old."

Jon nodded in understanding, before glancing at the pickaxe. "Let me help you. I fear if I leave alone, I may get lost once again, so I'll lend a hand."

The Maester eagerly handed the pickaxe. "Don't worry, there's not much to do. I studied with a Maester who served Winterfell, his name was Walys."

In the end, it took a bit longer for Jon to finish his trip down the Dragonmont as Cressen took the opportunity to ask Jon to extract some red and purple dragonglass from the deposits too.

Truth be told, Jon did not mind much as talking to the man as Cressen claimed he knew Walys, who was the previous Maester of Winterfell. Cressen said he did not wish to speak ill of the dead, but Jon could clearly understand there was some kind of bad blood between them. He described Walys as overly ambitious and persuasive, something that in his mind were not good traits for a Maester to possess.

If Cressen refrained from talking about the deceased Walys, he did not do so when it came to Stannis, who he said was the son he wished he had if not for his vows, a strong statement. According to him, the Lord of Dragonstone was different from both his brothers, lacking their natural charm and being overly rigid. Still, he believed these traits made him more of a man than both Robert and Renly.

From what he was told, from both Davos and Cressen, Jon truly felt Stannis deserved more. No one should watch their parents die, but Stannis did. At the tender age of fourteen, just a year older than him. Just a few years later, Stannis was starved at Storm's End whilst the Tyrells feasted in front of him. Yet, he held the castle and ensured King Robert wouldn't have to deal with an attack from his rear. Rather than receiving recognition for holding their family's seat, he was shamed for his inability to capture the remaining Targaryens and robbed of the castle he held so fiercely for more than a year. The Lord's misfortunes only continued after that, King Robert deflowered the cousin of Stannis' bride during his wedding feast, the marriage was never fruitful or happy and his only daughter and heir, Shireen was afflicted with greyscale and almost died. She survived, but her left cheek was disfigured. If Cressen was to be believed she was even sadder than Stannis.

Davos meet him at the castle's gates and informed that Stannis finished his tasks at the Great Hall and was expecting him at the Chamber of the Painted Table. This last piece of information was particularly exciting to him, as he would be able to see where Aegon planned his conquest.

Jon was once again surprised when he finally encountered the man. He expected Stannis to be a sad, pitiful lord, but instead, he found him an imponent one. He towered over him, not as much as the Greatjon, but even so, he made Jon, who was tall for his age look particularly small. The raised seat in which he sat overlooked the entirety of the huge table, whilst also representing Dragonstone.

Lacking the instructions in courtesies that were given to Robb and Sansa, Jon was glad that the man also wasn't fond of these.

Stannis, with his short black hair and blue eyes, would not be considered attractive, but commanded respect nonetheless.

"My lord." Jon said with a bow. "I was tasked by Lord Godric Borrell of Sweetsister to deliver you a letter."

Stannis nodded, taking the letter and quietly reading it, occasionally gritting his teeth at the writing. The painted table once again caught his interest, namely the lack of carved borders in it.

A dragon can easily disregard borders. Jon noted.

"Are you familiar with the contents of the letter?" his voice was firm and unwavering.

"I did not read the exact wording, but Lord Godric informed me it concerns the fate of the wreckers acting at the Three Sisters."

"This letter claims that these men were bandits and the lords were unaware of their actions." Stannis explained. "Yet, the same lords often resorted to wrecks to earn extra income. I found their intent dubious."

"I was with the Sistermen when they raided their den, the fighting that ensured did not seem dubious to me."

"You were?" Stannis asked.

"Aye. Took the lives of four men there. Some of the soldiers died too, although most of the causalities were theirs."

"It could easily be a forgery, tricking you, the son of the honorable Ned Stark to come bearing a letter as a sign of peace." Jon couldn't help but notice that Stannis had a certain bitterness when speaking of his father.

Still, he was not in a position to inquire why.

"I was there because I almost died when they wrecked the ship I was traveling. Washed up at Longsister by chance, and Lord Borrell was the only one who recognized my heritage." He explained. "The last man I killed delivered a swift slash at Lord Borrell's knee and would've finished the task had I not jumped to the man's rescue. I can see scrupulous lords throwing their subjects' lives aside, but they rarely risk their own, even more so if it was simply a deliberate ploy."

Stannis nodded at Jon's statement. "I can attest to that. Still, some parts of your story are hard to believe. For instance, why you were on a ship, or better yet, why the bastard of Eddard Stark decided to leave Winterfell?"

"I am looking for my mother." Jon explained.

"Wylla? Eddard never spoke of her to you?" Stannis asked, causing Jon's eyes to widen.

"My lord, who is Wylla?"

Stannis blinked at his statement. "You weren't informed of the name of your mother? My brother, the king seemed to be sure that Wylla is the name of Eddard Stark's lover."

Jon shook his head. "My father never spoke about my mother." If Stannis sensed the bitterness in his tone he did not say. "Alys Karstark, a friend of mine, heard from her father that my mother was Lady Ashara Dayne. Smalljon Umber and Ser Wylis Manderly attested to that too."

Stannis frowned in thought for a few seconds. "Lady Ashara danced with your father at Harrenhal but also danced with your uncle, Lord Connington, and Prince Oberyn Martell. On the other hand, Robert said that he heard from Eddard himself that his bastard's mother's name is Wylla, a commoner serving the Daynes."

Jon sighed. "Lord Borrell told me that my mother was the daughter of the fisherman that ferried him from the Fingers to the North at the start of the rebellion. That turned out to be a lie."

"It's considered rude to pry on a lord's bastard origins." Stannis pointed out. "However, it is also said to be an insult to a lady if her husband housed his bastard alongside their trueborn."

I only heard that a thousand times now.

Jon nodded. "Thanks for sharing this information with me, Lord Stannis. It seems that I will have more to do once I get to Starfall."

"You will only go to Starfall if I permit so." Stannis said. "As of now, you're still under scrutiny for your connection to the SIstermen. Besides that, I received a raven from King Robert himself ordering me to be on the lookout for Eddard's bastard."

Jon sighed once again. "I already said that the Sistermen did not know the wreckages."

"So, you think they are faultless." Stannis surmised, causing Jon to shake his head.

"I never said that. I just said that this time they weren't the culprits. Lord Borrell himself said that the last time he spoke with you, he was threatened with the noose. They found a scapegoat, and are using it to their advantage."

"You suggest I am to accept that?"

"You can't punish them for something they had no blame." He argued

"Directly."

"Pardon, my lord?"

"Direct blame. Being an overlord isn't about just boons to your name, there is also duty." Stannis stated, something Jon fully agreed upon.

"Amongst those duties, the lord must strive to project an image for their subjects to follow. Not empty words or promises, nor flowery speeches. The owner of a castle can hardly be blamed for an astray subject who commits crimes, but when they increase in number and band together the lord also has his share of the blame. Do you understand, Jon Snow?"

"I fully agree, my lord. I'm grateful for the assistance provided by the Sistermen, but I knew the men I fought with were not faultless. Even so, I don't think justice is absolute."

"It has to be, otherwise all order is lost." The Baratheon lord retorted quickly. "These men must be punished, so the nobles who grow bolder and bolder each day remember they too are subjects to the crown's laws."

"May I speak my mind, my lord?" the bastard asked.

"Go on."

"I understand your point but I feel that you are doing the exact opposite."

"How so?" Stannis asked, his tone more stoic than angry.

"By punishing these lords for mismanagement, you end up setting a dangerous precedent. I believe I misspoke earlier when I said justice is not absolute." He admitted, causing the lord to stop grinding his teeth and earning a raised eyebrow. "Justice is absolute, but its enforcement is not. Opportunistic lords may start repeating your claims and accusations to punish opponents, earn favor, and scheme. This time, however, the realm's interests won't be contemplated, as they would rather pursue their own goals."

"As Master of Ships, you have every right to punish the Sistermen for creating conditions that allowed wreckers to run rampant, doing so may solve this problem for good, maybe others too. However, lords, landowners, and people in positions of power may abuse that, creating different sets of problems." The bastard surmised.

Stannis frowned in thought for a few seconds. "You learned that from your father?"

"A bit of it yes. Are you familiar with the name Jorah Mormont?" Jon asked

Stannis nodded. "He was knighted by my brother during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Married a Hightower girl, then declared a slaver, and a traitor, last I heard of him he escaped the realm."

It was Jon's time to nod.

"The Mormonts aren't a wealthy house, but few of the Northern houses are. By the time truth came of Ser Jorah's misdeeds, they were posed to become a true force in the North. Tied by marriage with one of the most reputable houses in Westeros, gold won from the tournament at Lannisport and with Jorah's father Jeor as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." Jon explained.

"Slavery is abhorred in Westeros, but. like most crimes, its punishment may differ. When my father decided to execute Ser Jorah, some of his bannermen complained, arguing that rather than taking the head of a man who many considered to be an asset, a better solution would be to scold him publicly and confiscate their gold. Jorah would be humbled, the Mormonts and vassals placated and the gold more than enough to compensate the victims. But my father was not having any of it. 'How long until the Skagosi decide to engage in piracy and cannibalism once again? How long until the Boltons resume their practice of flaying?' He asked."

Stannis said nothing, but Jon could sense he approved of his father's actions. "You are correct when you say laws are observed differently depending on who judges and who is judged. And I agree that some unsavory lords could use that precedent as a way to pass on unfair judgment. Still, you provide me no other way to deal with that."

Jon attempted to speak once again, but the man's harsh words cut him off before he even started. "I appreciate your input Jon Snow, but I must ask you to leave."

"Am I free to leave Dragonstone?" he asked

Stannis shook his head. "I will think on that after the fate of the Three Sisters is decided, until that, you are to remain on the island. My steward will arrange rooms for you."

As displeased as Jon was on being held back once again, Jon openly admitted his stay was much more pleasant than in the Three Sisters. After all, it was hardly fair to compare a set of islands subject to a less than stellar rule by House Sunderland, whose management was questionable at best, to Dragonstone, which was equally dreary in weather but was the seat of the prestigious Targaryen Dynasty.

He often explored the castle alone, glancing at the several melted stone statues created by the Valyrian mages and picturing historical rulers amongst the same halls he wandered. He sometimes went to the docks to visit Davos, but most of his time was spent alongside Maester Cressen.

In exchange for his help in collecting the dragonglass samples, he promised to share histories from both of the castles he served, first as an acolyte at Oldtown and then as Maester of both Storm's End and then Dragonstone.

He rarely spent time with Maester Luwin in Winterfell as he often found himself occupied, either training alongside Robb and Theon, instructing Bran in swordsmanship, or playing peacemaker between Arya and Sansa. During his last year, as he planned his escape to Starfall, he often went to the Maester for advice but had to do so with caution, as he had no doubt Luwin would report him to Lord Stark if he suspected his intentions.

Now that he finally escaped Winterfell, for the time at least, he no longer had to veil his interests and often asked questions about geography, seafaring, and the more obscure history of the Baratheon and Stark dynasties. A good example would be Cressen's perspective on the influence Walys, the Maester that preceded Luwin in Winterfell, held on his late grandfather. He believed that it was Walys' words and encouragement that caused his late grandfather to drop the Northern isolationism and seek matches outside of the North for his children. Tragically enough, neither of his arranged matches came to fruition as his aunt was raped to death by Rhaegar Targaryen and his uncle Brandon died before he could marry Caitlin, who instead married his father to ensure the Riverlands assistance during the Rebellion.

Another favorite story of his was the legend of Ronald Storm, the legendary Storm King who represented everything Lady Stark feared he could become. Ronald, like Jon himself, was the half-brother of the legitimate ruler. The Storm King, Morden, the second of his name, apparently valued Ronald's counsel as not only he made him castellan of Storm's End but also gave him the hand of his sister.

It turns out that for a very long time, incest was not an exclusively Targaryen practice.

Ronald ruled as a Storm King in all but name, and five years later he stole both his brother's crown and his wife. He then ruled for more than thirty years, defeating both rebels and petty kings alike, taking their daughters as either lovers or wives. By the end of his life, Ronald had no less than twenty-three wives, a hundred sons, and a countless number of bastards.

Even King Robert, a notorious wencher by his own rights, couldn't hold a candle to those numbers.

Jon, unlike Ronald, had no intention of usurping Robb's birthright. Nor his wife, whoever she turns out to be. Also, he had no intentions of marrying either Sansa or Arya, that would be just weird. He also swore to father no bastards, which pretty much ruled out the hundred sons bit. Finally, as interested as he was in the fairer sex, so far none of the girls he saw in Winterfell ever caught his eye, and thus he could not picture himself married. Never mind with more than twenty of them.

How does one manage twenty-three wives anyway? Do they take turns or something?

This time, however, it was not his thirst for tales and legends that brought him to the Maester's chamber atop the Sea Dragon Tower.

Instead, it was a promise.

When he helped carry the dragonglass, Jon wondered aloud how the wildlings and children of the forest carved weapons of the material. Much to his surprise, Cressen knew how to do it, and offered to teach him in exchange for continued assistance in mining dragonglass.

Now that he was confined to Dragonstone until further orders, it was a good time as any to learn.

The Maester chambers at the Sea Dragon Tower were sparsely decorated, like most of the castle, with only a few parchments atop a work desk and a small bookshelf containing some books that were consulted often by Cressen, as the bulk of the castle's collection was stashed at the library.

Cressen however was not alone, and the unfortunate black markings on the face of the girl visiting him were a clear giveaway of her identity.

Even if not afflicted by greyscale, Shireen Baratheon wouldn't be considered a pretty girl. Her dark blue eyes were of a different shade from the ones he saw on Lady Stark and Sansa, but still pretty nonetheless, undoubtedly inherited from her father. Unfortunately for little Shireen, she also inherited her father's jaw, which was not appealing to a female face, and her mother's long, pointy ears.

She was as old as Arya, recently completing her seventh name day, but whilst his sister was active and energetic to a fault, Jon described Stannis' daughter as meek and shy, with a deep air of sadness that she also seemingly inherited from her father.

The greyscale scars both marked and disgraced the girl. At that Jon could sympathize with the girl, as he felt the same about his bastard status. It was also the first time Jon saw the marks left by the disease, the cracked, dead skin blackened at the girl's face. Still, he pushed the thoughts aside and did not let his eyes linger on her left cheeks and neck.

"Hello." He greeted, drawing the attention of both the Maester and Shireen.

"Ah, Jon. Good to see you." He then gestured to the other occupant of the room. "This is Lady Shireen Baratheon, Stannis' daughter."

Remembering the courtesies Sansa demanded back when they still played together, Jon knelt by the girl and kissed her hand. "A pleasure, my lady."

The girl was thoroughly surprised, if judged by her blush, and nodded shyly at him.

"What brings you here?" Cressen asked.

"I was wondering if you could teach me how to carve dragonglass. That's if I'm not intruding?" Jon trailed off, glancing at both the Maester and the girl.

It was Shireen who finally spoke. "No, I was just asking for some a tale from the Maester."

This piped up his interests. "Which kind of tale?"

"A pretty one." Shireen decided.

Jon smiled. "My sister, I mean, half-sister is fond of these. Ever heard of the Tourney at Ashford Meadow?"

"You have a way with children." Cressen remarked one day as he instructed Jon on carving dragonglass.

Jon could hardly be called proficient as he had been taught for less than a sennight, but was pleased as he was able to carve throwing knives and arrow tips. In battle, those would find little use, as dragonglass, as sharp as it was, would surely break should they clash with iron or steel. Having already grasped basic concepts, Jon now was tasked with making decorative pieces, something he struggled with.

"I have three, four" Jon quickly corrected himself "younger siblings, I guess those things came to me naturally."

"It truly means a lot for her." The Maester said, referring to Shireen. "She seldom had contact with any children, and sans some exceptions, none of the adults were kind to her. Respectful, yes, caring they were not."

Jon nodded. "She is a very gentle soul. It's truly a shame people see her scars as a sign of a curse whereas they in truth are there to show her strength."

Cressen hummed in approval. "A real shame. Truth to be told I too see her scars differently."

"How so?"

"I see them as a sign of my failure." Before Jon could even try to comfort the man, he continued. "I could've done for her, much more, The Seven know she deserves it."

Jon wondered if it was what Robb and Arya felt when he was in one of his brooding moods in Winterfell. "There's no know, proven cure to Greyscale. You did what you could, at times like these it was all they could ask of you, even if it wasn't enough."

Cressen looked much older than he already was when speaking of Stannis and Shireen's sadness, causing him to truly pity the aged scholar.

"May I ask you a question?" Jon inquired, trying to bring the Maester out of his somber mood.

"Go ahead."

"Why is Shireen so lonely? I don't mean siblings, as even from afar I can see Stannis' marriage is not a joyful one, but why he never attempted to get a few companions of her age?"

The Maester's mood grew somber. "I once suggested Stannis foster a girl of her age here, much to my surprise he accepted, bringing a girl from the Stormlands. She mocked Shireen's appearance and was sent home on the next ship."

Jon had to admire Stannis for that. He clearly was not soft-spoken, but no one could deny he loved his daughter dearly. "Children's words can be cruel." He admitted.

"You speak of it on a personal experience." It was much more a statement than a question.

He grimaced as he remembered his personal experiences. "I have a great relationship with my siblings, something that I had taken for granted until I saw how Stannis spoke of his family."

It was something that deeply plagued his mind, even if his main focus was on reaching Starfall. But once he did, for better or worse, he planned to head back to Winterfell. He dreaded it. He knew his actions hurt people he loved; he could stomach disappointing his father as his refusal to share his mother's name was what drove him away from Winterfell. His siblings however were a different story. He particularly was ashamed of how little he confided in Robb and how he left Arya alone even if he was her favorite.

They probably hate me now. And it's all my fault.

"I'd say that the only exception is my sister Sansa. She never treated me badly, but I'd be lying if I said that my relationship with her is as good as with the rest of my siblings."

"Why is that."

"Her mother has no fondness for me. She never treated me badly; she just ignored me. But it hurt me when I noticed she would never call me the sibling, or even half-sibling of her children, it hurt me when she says Lord Stark has four children, now five, rather than counting me as one of his. And I assure you I would frown and sulk harder when I had to dine at the lower tables in Winterfell so I wouldn't offend her." Jon admitted.

"I guess Sansa is just a better daughter than she is a sister, as someone had to pick Lady Stark's side. She never mistreated me, but as I said it just hurt whenever she corrected people saying I'm her half-brother, not a full one."

His mood grew somber, however. "Yet my worst experience was not courtesy of either Lady Stark or Sansa. It was Robb's."

"How so?"

"He never meant it, obviously, but when we were little children, we would play games of pretending at Winterfell. My heroes were Aemon the Dragonknight and Daeron the Young Dragon, but that day I said I was Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell."

He glanced to the ground, remembering the day he truly realized he would never be Robb's equal. "He stated a fact, I would never be Lord of Winterfell. I'm a Snow, never a Stark."

"How old were you?"

"Five turning to six."

"Did he ever apologize?"

Jon shook his head. "One should never ask for forgiveness when stating the truth. As hurtful as it may be. I ignored Robb for a long time until our father was called to war and I sobbed alongside him and Sansa at his departure."

"You should speak with him when you return to Winterfell. Stannis' relationship with his brothers was never strong as yours, but he loved them, and even now he does as much as he is stubborn to admit. Lack of communication is will poison a relationship slowly, but it is as deadly as any weapon."

Jon nodded. "I will, but not now. At this point, all my focus has to be on Starfall. I can't afford to make even more mistakes, that's if I'm even allowed to go further."

"Stannis will summon you shortly." Cressen informed him. "A few days ago, I sent ravens to the Three Sisters informing them of his decision, you will hear from him once he gets his answer."

This was something he did not know. "I guess I will have to finish my gift earlier than I expected."

"Gift?" the Maester asked in confusion, earning a smirk from him.

"You'll have to wait and see."

As informed to him, two days later he was once again summoned to the Chamber of the Painted Table.

As usual, Stannis was alone atop his high seat, towering even more above him.

"You summoned, my lord."

"The last time we spoke it pertained to your mission here."

Jon listened intently.

"Your advice reinforced some of my convictions and you brought a different point of view of the affairs of those men." His tone was firm and Jon could only imagine what King Robert, who was said to be the most impressive of the Baratheon brothers was like.

"And what did you decide, my lord?"

"I decided it was better to not punish these lords for the incident, even if they shared a part, if not the most of the blame. You were right, doing so would set a precedent that would be abused by less scrupulous lords seeking the betterment of their pockets, not of the realm's."

Jon let out a silent sigh of relief at that. The Sistermen were fond of causing wrecks but helped him, and Lord Borrell aided his efforts to find his mother, misguided as he was, he was still grateful for the assistance.

"However, I will not allow their mismanagement to keep threatening the Narrow Sea. If left unchecked it will be no longer to these upstart looters to start targeting ships from Essos, which could discredit the realm as a whole as a den of wreckers and even piracy." Stannis informed.

"Thus, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Some of my ships will sweep the area in search of signs of these dens and will crush them. Jon Arryn agreed to have some patrols sent from Gulltown to continue the efforts once the worst is dealt with."

Jon would commend the lord for his decision when he continued to speak.

"Gold doesn't grow on trees, as much as my brother seems to believe otherwise." He intoned causing Jon's eyes to widen. Stannis was really a no-bullshit kind of man, even if said bullshit was coming from his brother, the king. "Thus, I'll be levying a special tax on the Sistermen to fund the efforts of the crown. They will obviously be overjoyed to contribute to the improvement of the security of their coast."

The last phrase was meant as a joke obviously, but Stannis clearly had no talent for these as his timing and intonation were sorely lacking.

"These men are poor, it would destroy their economy." Jon protested.

"Mind your tongue and remember who you are talking to, boy. Do not mistake me for my brothers." Stannis countered, causing him to immediately shut up. "This will teach them, and all the other lords who keep their eyes and ears open, the consequences of mismanagement."

Jon made no further move to speak, so Stannis continued his reasoning. "These lords will suffer yes, but my eyes are on them now, and they were informed of the consequences they would face should their burden is diverted into their commonfolk."

He wanted to refute and find another solution, one that made both Stannis and the Sisterment happy but failed.

This ought to be a lesson to keep in mind, in the real world there were hardly any compromises.

And thus, the strong prevailed.

Still, Stannis, from the little he knew of him did not have a lust for power or gold. His only desire was justice.

"They will hate you." Jon said at last. Cressen once told him that, unlike his brothers, Stannis was never loved by either the commonfolk or the nobles.

Stannis lips upturned, in what could be considered a smile if the definitions were loose enough. "They already do, Jon Snow."

The bastard smirked at that until the meaning of Stannis' words caught up to him. "My lord, last time we spoke…" he attempted to bring up but was beaten to it by Stannis himself.

"Yes, I'm aware of what I spoke. Before I make my decision, however, I must ask you some questions.

"Questions?"

"About Eddard Stark, and the North. Only then I will inform you of my verdict."

This was bound to be a long talk.

Notes: This one took a lot longer than I would've liked. I guess this is the norm whenever we get close to Christmas and the New Year. As much as I dreaded writing this chapter at the beginning, I was pleased with the result. In fact, I moved the conclusion of this chapter to the next one as the Cressen scenes ended up being longer than planned. Writing Stannis meeting Jon was perhaps the most difficult thing I had to write, both are extremely complex characters and I ended up discarding several pieces of text as I felt they weren't good enough. With that in mind, I hope I did justice to Jon and Stannis both, and hope you enjoy this chapter.

Now, the answer to some of the reviews:

Gladiusx: As I said above, it was perhaps the most difficult scene I had to write. Stannis and Jon are some of my favorite characters, but unlike the book, Jon had hardly any useful advice and counsel to give, so there's no reason for Stannis to openly approve and respect him, yet. My headcanon is that Melisandre reached Dragonstone shortly before the War of the Five Kings, as surely some discontentment would rise if she started preaching R'hllor and burning things while the realm was still stable.

suppes1: While Jon is still unaware of his Targaryen heritage, this chapter starts exploring some of Jon's thoughts on their dynasty. The egg won't do or mean much, at least until a time skip happens.

Perfectcell69: Thanks for letting me know about the typo, it is already corrected. I hope to better explore Jon's more critical point of view in the next few chapters.

Uvuvwevwevwe Onyetenyevwe Ugwe: This chapter takes place in 296, so Jon recently completed his thirteenth birthday.