Chapter 06 – The Sins of his Father
Judgment comes naturally. People judge as well as they are judged by others. Jon did not know why. Even at three and ten name days, he knew it was foolish to attempt to describe a person with just a single adjective. Still, people did, and he would always be known as a bastard.
The stigma he carried was a heavy one. A stain that could never be fully washed away. He came to terms with it, but he'd be lying if he said he accepted it fully.
His opinion on bastards wouldn't have changed even if he wasn't one. A Snow or Sand surname would not mean a person is wanton and treacherous by nature, nor that their conception was marred by lust, lies, or weakness. Some bastards brought destruction in their wake, the Blackfyres and Aegor Bittersteel were clear a reminder of that, but others accomplished great things, Ser Marston Waters became Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and Benedict Justman was born Benedict Rivers, before becoming King of the Trident.
Still, Jon would not deny that there was a darkness in him. One that, one way or another, came from him being a Snow. He would rather die before letting it surface, but often times he wondered how better his life would be if he was a trueborn Stark. Had his father married for love rather than duty he would not have Robb and the others as siblings but would have Winterfell, he would have a mother. In the end, he always dismissed these foolish thoughts. He would gladly throw his life away to save Robb. But his mind sometimes lingered on these dark thoughts.
Meeting his mother wouldn't change the fact he was a bastard but would shed a light on how he came to be. The truth was that even if he never could be a Stark, or allowed to set foot on Winterfell ever again, Jon would be content. He would have his mother and her love. As selfish as he was to say that, in the end, all he wanted was to be the one who was loved the most by another.
As he stood in the front of the gate leading to the castle the six moons he spent on his journeys were nothing compared to the agonizing minutes he waited to be let inside.
Then the guard came back, a frown on his face, and crushed his hopes with just four words. "You're not welcome here."
Maybe it was his father who loved him and attempted to spare him the heartbreak. His mother never loved him.
The darkness within him only grew.
By all means, he was drained, both physically and emotionally. In half a year he almost died in a shipwreck, killed men in gruesome manners, and was held hostage twice. Jon endured by focusing all his sights and hopes on Starfall. He didn't even plan what to do afterward.
He wasn't supposed to be making heat-of-the-moment decisions, but at this point, he did not care anymore.
"A shame then." He said to the guard with a glare and gritted teeth. "But I'm not going anywhere."
It was not hope that Ashara would let him in that made him stay. Neither was his own stubbornness on not being denied.
It was a matter of pride, maybe even arrogance. The moment he took advantage of Rickon's birth to escape was also the moment ties were severed. He hurt his father. He hurt his siblings too. Maybe he even hurt Lady Stark indirectly.
I should never have left Winterfell.
His greed drove him away from home, his pride kept him from returning with a tail between his legs. He knew the home he would return to would be different than the one he left.
Jon made his bed, now it was time he lay in it. Face the consequences of his own actions.
Growing up in Winterfell, Jon would compete at Robb in pretty much everything. They would challenge each other in the practice yard, horseback riding, getting chores done faster, and as well as for who was the better brother.
This last bit did not only include taking care of each other, but also their siblings. Robb is Sansa's favorite, just as he is, or rather was, Arya's. Until Rickon's birth, this meant that Bran was the one remaining.
Jon was proud, even smug to say that he won that dispute. Robb attempted to buy Bran with sweets and gifts, but Jon was the one who read to him at night and recount tales of mighty knights.
When his younger brother took an interest in climbing, rather than scolding or forbidding him such as Lady Stark did, Jon decided to make sure Bran never hurt himself and knew the boundaries between a painful tumble and a harsh, life-threatening fall. He often supervised when his brother climbed things and demonstrated his skills when required.
It was unknown to anyone but him, Bran, and maybe Arya that Jon was the most proficient climber in Winterfell, not Bran.
That being said, Jon couldn't help but feel nervous as he hoisted himself up using a rope and a hook. One thing was to climb a tree in Winterfell, with the fluff snow below to break his fall, another thing was to use an insecure set up to reach the top of a castle's walls, with pointy stones placed to punish him dearly should he fail.
If he survived, Jon could easily picture himself at a tavern, recounting details of his deeds to dumbfounded men. Using rope and a hook he brought from one of the ships that visited Starfall, he made a makeshift harness to hoist him up to the walls of Starfall. The hope was not long enough to reach the top of the walls per se but managed to throw the hook towards one of the arrowslits at the lowermost battements.
After that, he repeated the process thrice before he finally got to the walls, which thankfully were unmanned at the time. It was something Jon made sure to account for when planning. Starfall has a main gate, where he was denied entry, as well as two other gates, overlooking the eastern and western margins of the Torrentine, also heavily manned. The northern section however wasn't that well-defended as any attackers would have to attack High Hermitage beforehand to access the river, thus eliminating the possibilities of a quick, sneak attack from there.
As proud as he was of infiltrating the walls of such a castle, Jon was fully aware that the most difficult part had yet to come. He had no knowledge of both the layout of the castle and the patrols inside.
From what he observed at both Winterfell and the other castles he visited, the Lord's chambers usually were placed on the highest floor, as they were supposed to be the hardest ones to reach should an infiltrator, such as himself, sneak past the guards. In Starfall, the keep had four floors.
Ashara was not the lady of the castle, this role belonged to her older brother, Ser Uthor Dayne. Assuming things was not the ideal course of action, but as Jon had no better alternative, he would guess Ashara's chambers were located on the third floor.
If life at Starfall was anything like in Winterfell, the lower floors would be bursting with servants, whilst the upper ones would be reserved for the nobles.
When Jon spoke of his suspicions about his mother to people such as Godric Borrell and Ser Davos Seaworth, he only heard what was already said at Winterfell. Lady Ashara was said to be an otherworldly beauty, but that said nothing to him. Stannis, who was present at Harrenhal described her as being tall, having long black hair and violet eyes, which were her most noticeable feature.
It was night when he finally reached the keep, and Jon donned a dark blue cloak in an attempt to merge into the darkness. As expected, the first floor was crowded with servants doing their final tasks of the day, he had to walk a little bit to find stairs that weren't watched by guards but managed to get to the second and third floors undetected.
He glanced around warily, paying attention to the Myrish carpets and several tapestries adorning the hallways. According to what he saw on the first floor, dinner already had been served, which meant that the residents would most likely be retiring to their rooms.
This put Jon in a difficult position, as he couldn't simply go around snooping the rooms until he found Ashara. Servants weren't seen at this level and even if that wasn't the case, he would soon be outed due to his distinguished features. Wandering the hallways hoping for a glimpse of Ashara was also far from the ideal.
Suddenly a memory of Winterfell came to mind, bringing an end to Jon's issues. It was one of the many fights between Arya and Sansa, shortly after they were given separate quarters. The eldest sister complained that Arya's room smelled like wet dogs, which Jon had to admit was a fairly accurate description. Arya rebutted saying that even if that was the case, it didn't cause headaches like Sansa's room's flowery smell, which also had some degree of truth.
According to what he heard of Lady Ashara, she seemed more like Sansa than Arya, so he decided to go look in the chambers that had the most pleasant smells. If not ideal, this would at least rule out the men's quarters as Jon had to admit that the rooms belonging to him, Robb, and Theon were more like Arya's than Sansa's.
Jon let his nose guide him for once, thus stopping at a closed door. It smelt…flowery. Sansa would probably know how to describe it better but to him, it just smelt like flowers.
Taking a deep breath and peering inside the chamber, Jon was disappointed to find it empty. The bed was done, and the room was tidy. If not for the pleasant fragrance he would've doubted there was anyone living there. Still, as he glanced at the dressing table, something else caught his attention, namely the embroidery depicting the sigil of House Dayne.
Jon had no eye for the finer aspects of embroidery, but it appeared to be spotless, with vivid colors and well-woven details. He felt entranced by the details, to the point he almost missed the rustling that marked the entrance of another person in the room. Almost.
When he turned, he came face to face with the prettiest woman he ever saw. She looked older than him, but not by much, with a slender, yet developed figure. Her blonde hair was long enough to reach her waist and its tone was different from anything he ever saw, pale, yet vivid. Her eyes were even prettier than Lady Stark or Sansa's, a vibrant purple that bordered a deep blue.
Jon let his mind focus back on the task at hand. He held his hands up in surrender, turning to the beauty. "Could you please not scream?" He hated how pleading his tone sounded.
"You must be the worse thief I ever saw." The lady quipped with her ever-melodious voice.
He let out a nervous chuckle. "I assume my lady wouldn't believe me if I said I mean no harm."
She nodded. Then glanced at the blade tied to his waist.
Jon caught up with the meaning and slowly placed the sword on the floor, without removing its scabbard.
As soon as he did that, he felt the cold steel of a dagger press at his neck.
"Who are you?"
"Jon Snow."
The lady let out a weary sigh. "I figured as much. What you intended to do here? Use the cover of the night to take her?"
He wished his expression conveyed his confusion. One misstep and his neck would be punctured. "I swear I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Don't play coy with me." She said, tone rising in anger. "You won't have her. She belongs here, not in Winterfell."
Jon noted the bitterness of her tone. "I left Winterfell more than six moons ago, I don't mean to take anyone there."
"Then you plan to turn her against us? Are the Northmen such snakes to plot under the cover of the snow and the cloak of the Usurper?"
"Do not question my honor." Jon said as if he was the one in control.
He was harshly reminded of his position with the graze of a blade. "You will die before you get your dirty hands on her."
"I repeat once again my lady, I have no idea who are you talking about."
"Then what brought you here?"
"Ashara Dayne, I need to speak with her."
The girl's eyes blazed in fury. "House Stark took advantage of my sister once, I won't let it happen again."
Jon's eyes widened as her words' meaning caught up to him. "You are her sister?"
She's your aunt man, get a grip. You are not a Targaryen.
Rather than answering his question, the girl. My aunt. Jon's stomach lurched at the realization, then he felt the dagger pressed against his neck once again.
"I'm calling the guards." She announced.
"Please don't call the guards he pleaded. I swear I don't mean any harm to you or your house."
"As if." She said with a snort. "What brings you here then?"
"I came looking for my mother."
His aunt glanced at him with her stunning eyes. Get a grip, you are not a Targaryen.
"You are simple-minded? You are Jon Snow, not Jon Sand."
Sensing this exchange was not going anywhere, Jon decided to be blunt. "I'm her son."
The girl quieted immediately and looked at him appraisingly for some time.
Jon opened his arms to greet his long-lost relative in a hug.
"No, you are not."
Jon frowned. "I know it's too much to take at once, but I assure…"
She cut him off once again. "You aren't her son."
This irritated him. His aunt simply wouldn't listen to his words.
"I am Ashara's son."
"You certainly are not, young man." A firm and feminine voice cut him off.
Jon and his aunt immediately whipped their heads to the source of the voice. Jon's breath caught up in his throat, as he glanced at violet and the prettiest woman he ever saw.
"Mother?" he asked in awe.
A few minutes later, Jon found himself at a secluded solar, alongside him his aunt, who introduced herself as Allyria, and a guard who glared at him hatefully. His mot…Ashara still had some things to do before she could finally talk with him.
Jon frowned as he felt the guard still glaring at him. "Why are you looking at me?" he snapped. "It's not my fault you suck at your job."
Allyria chuckled at that, and the guard became even more enraged.
"Jon, be nice to Cletus." Ashara made her presence known. She then turned to the guard. "You may go. Allyria, too."
"Can I stay instead?" the younger sister asked, earning a nod from her older sister.
After the guard left, Ashara took her seat and glanced at Jon appraisingly. "I need to know why you believe I'm your mother."
Jon frowned at her wording but complied nonetheless. "I heard from a friend in Winterfell."
"A friend? Who is he?" the frown did little to take the beauty of Lady Dayne.
"She." Jon corrected. "Alys Karstark."
"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with Northern houses." Ashara admitted. "How old is this Alys you speak of?"
"She's around my age." Sensing the confusion on the sisters' faces Jon explained further. "She heard from her father, apparently it is a well-known gossip in the North. Smalljon Umber and Wylis Manderly also confirmed these rumors."
It was Allyria who raised her eyebrow at that. "You crossed the entire realm based on a rumor?"
Jon didn't flinch at her wording, instead glancing at his mother.
"I take you are familiar with my father."
She just gave him a somber nod.
"When I confronted him about these rumors, he became angry, something he rarely does. Said you aren't my mother, but wouldn't talk about you either. He went as far as forbidding your name from being uttered at Winterfell."
Ashara said nothing, only glancing at him with a pained expression, so it was her sister who continued the inquiry. "Your father has no idea you are here, right?"
Jon nodded. "I planned my escape thoroughly. When my youngest brother was born, ravens were sent to inform his birth, I took advantage of that and left before my father could warn the other lords of my disappearance. It took longer than I would've liked, but I got here at last."
"What do you think of your father?" Ashara suddenly asked.
Jon opened and closed his mouth several times before he could put his thoughts into words. "I love my father, as I love my siblings. Still, I'd be lying if I said I don't resent him."
Or my siblings. Jon added in his mind.
Ashara frowned but said nothing, so Jon took it as a cue to continue.
"I should appreciate him for caring and raising me alongside his trueborn children, but deep down inside there's a whisper that says he did no more than he should've done. Worst yet is that he kept the only thing I wished the most away from me."
From the corner of his eyes, he felt Allyria glancing at him in sympathy alongside a sharp intake of breath from Ashara.
"Can I trust you to keep a secret from your father?"
"I can't promise that." Jon answered.
"He kept things away from you." Allyria pointed out. "Can't you do the same?"
Jon shook his head. "I want to be better than him."
"Then I'm afraid…" the youngest sister spoke but was cut off by the eldest.
"I guess it was naïve of me to believe time would keep my secrets away." Ashara said. "Still, by doing so I've become like him, the man who I both loved and hated so much."
Jon frowned at that wording as Allyria put a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder.
"You must know, Jon Snow, that being a woman is hard." Ashara shook her head. "Even in Dorne, where women are treated better, there are still some guidelines for how we are supposed to live. Tell me, how have people described me?"
"As being the prettiest woman in Westeros."
Ashara let out a sad smile at his admission. "They may be taking it too far, but yes, when it comes to me, people always speak of my looks, but never about my personality or goals. In a perfect world, it would have made me stand out, but here it only drew the worst of men toward me. Thus, I became guarded, I would not be one of their conquests, I said to myself."
Jon wanted to console the woman but he honestly had no idea what to say.
If he ever came back to Winterfell he would need to speak with both Arya and Sansa and let them know they could count on him, for anything.
"You were not at fault sister." Allyria interceded.
"Still, I was naïve then, still dreamed of love." The older woman said with a bitter laugh. "The first time I saw your father it was at Harrenhal. At eighteen name days, I had rejected my fair share of men. They came to me with pretty, flowery words and promises, but when it was clear I would not be giving them my maidenhead they would show their true faces. Then Brandon came asking for a dance."
He frowned. "Brandon as in my late uncle Brandon?"
She nodded. "Yes. Brandon Stark, the heir of the North. By then it was already common knowledge of his betrothal to Catelyn Tully, it was fair to say I was less than impressed by that. Still, what happened later surprised me. After our dance was finished, he admitted that he came at the behest of his brother, who was too shy to ask for a dance himself."
Jon smiled at that. "I never thought my father would be afraid to ask a dance from a lady. Heck, two years later he was facing the loyalists at the Trident."
Ashara's smile tightened at that, and Jon remembered that the Daynes were fighting on the other side of that battle.
"It was something new for me. At first, I believed as a ploy, but once I took my time to dance with him, I was pleased. He was not as attractive as Brandon, but he genuinely cared for me. At that time, I was under the impression that his eyes stared at my soul, not at my body. I grew fond of him, and I believe he felt the same. My father was an ambitious man and saw the match in good eyes, as it would tie us to a great house, but Lord Rickard, your grandfather declined."
"Why?" he almost demanded.
"He too was an ambitious man. House Dayne takes pride in its heritage and can field a somewhat large army, but was too far away from the North. Ned told me his father sought a match with the Vale to further strengthen their ties there; a Royce most likely. Still, Ned didn't give up."
"There's more to this story?" he asked.
She nodded. "After the tournament, Ned spent most of his time at the Vale. Meanwhile, I attended Princess Elia at Dragonstone."
Jon immediately caught the meaning of her words. "Not as far away as the North is from Dorne."
"We didn't want to raise suspicions, so we would often meet at different places. Driftmark, Claw Isle, Gulltown, Old Anchor." Ashara described fondly. "These were the sweetest days of my life. Back then it seemed that nothing would keep us apart and we were hopeful for the future. I gave him my maidenhead one night, and the next day he swore he would marry me, even if it meant giving up his name."
Jon knew exactly what came next. "Fucking Rhaegar."
Ashara snorted at that, whilst Allyria chuckled. "Rhaegar was a man of many faces. My brother was his best friend, and for some time I admired how dutiful he was to Elia, I might even say he loved her, at least for some time." The older sister explained.
"Then he kidnapped and raped my aunt to death, causing a chain of events that would take his life, not before making several men perish in the process. My uncle and grandfather in the process." Jon pipped in.
Allyria spoke next. "Our father was at the Trident. He never came back, just as our brother never came back from the Tower of Joy."
"I'm truly sorry for your losses." He spoke truthfully.
"I could never hold Ned accountable for the promise he made that night. Old Hoster took advantage of the existing betrothal and Ned couldn't refuse the marriage without insulting House Tully and the Riverlands. Still, I guess there's a part of me that still is bitter to be left by the man who said he loved me without even having a chance to say goodbye in person. It pains me to say that Jon, but I only laid with him once, before Lyanna was kidnapped."
Sensing she was not willing to further discuss her feelings after a long pause, Jon made his calculations and connected the dots. He hated the result. "Then you aren't my mother. I'm too young for that."
Ashara nodded, whilst Allyria looked at him in pity.
Just like in the Fingers, his hopes were destroyed, but this time it felt even worse. Back then it was merely a rumor, and as disappointed as he was, there was still a final destination for him. Starfall was meant to be where his journey ended, but it was also a lie.
Now he found himself far removed from his home, his relationship with his family probably broken beyond repair, and a walking reminder of the man who broke Ashara's heart.
He felt bile rise up his throat.
"I apologize for everything I did. I should go now."
"Don't." Ashara suddenly said. "There's more you should know."
"Sister." Allyria warned, her eyes wide.
"I know, little sister, but in his eyes, I see no malice." She turned back to him. "I only laid with Ned once, but sometimes once is enough."
Jon frowned. "But you said that I am too young…"
He trailed off before his eyes widened in realization.
"SHIT!" he cursed loudly, suddenly turning to Ashara once again.
She simply nodded. "Her name is Dyanna Sand. She saved me from a fate worse than death. I almost lost her during her early days, but she endured."
"My father knows?"
"When you showed up asking for me, I was afraid he found out." Ashara admitted. "Thankfully that wasn't the case."
Jon frowned at her wording, a sort of indignation rising up in his chest. "Say what you wish of him as a person, I know he hurt you, but he is a good father to his children."
"Even so, Dyanna is a Sand, she belongs in here with me."
He decided to keep his mouth shut. Sometimes it was better to be silent to not offend the lady of the castle.
"I assume the story about you locking Starfall up is due to fear of my father learning of her."
"Partly." Ashara admitted. "Either him or the usurper."
This wording once again caused Jon to frown in thought. He assumed there would be little love for the Baratheon rule south of the Marches, but it was already the second time he heard the Dayne sisters openly insult the king.
"You feared he would take her away?"
"Even now I do."
Jon sighed at her admission. "You still wish me to keep quiet about her existence."
Ashara nodded.
"This hard for me to do." Jon said in honesty. "I hate my father's secrecy, I truly do. A darker part of me says I should agree with your request out of spite. Still, both he, and Dyanna, who I don't even know yet, are family. And I'm unsure if I can keep secrets away from my family."
"Sometimes a mother knows better, Jon."
"That's something I don't know."
"Sorry."
"For what? You spoke the truth."
"I'm afraid of losing her, Jon." The beautiful lady seemed vulnerable as she spoke those words. "If your father learned of her and decided to demand her presence in Winterfell there's little I can do."
"He's not that kind of man."
"He already did it once." Allyria pointed out, gesturing at him.
"Allyria." Ashara scolded.
"That he did." he did his best to keep the bitterness out of his voice, before turning to Ashara. "What do you tell her? When she asks about her father?"
"That one day I will tell her."
The bastard raised his eyebrow. "And you will?"
"Eventually." Ashara said. "Once I know she's mature enough to understand why I did what I had to do."
"Bastards mature faster than trueborns, my lady. Maybe the time is now."
"Dyanna was raised alongside both Allyria and her cousin, the heir of Starfall."
Jon nodded. "Just as I was raised alongside my siblings. Yet, the stain is there anyway."
Ashara shook her head. "Who would've guessed that after all this time I would feel sympathy for Ned. You are very stubborn, Jon Snow."
He chuckled at that. "Then it's a good thing you never married the man. I'm the most agreeable of the Stark children. Robb is somewhat calm, but Sansa and Arya bicker all the time, Bran loves to scale walls and even I felt something akin to sympathy for Lady Catelyn by how much Rickon was kicking."
The older Dayne did not respond in words, instead adopting a thoughtful look. It was Allyria who sensed the awkwardness and spoke next.
"When you are done, you plan on coming back to Winterfell? Or are you continuing the search for your mother?"
"Wylla is here?" he suddenly asked.
The sister pair raised their eyebrows at that. "Yes."
"She is my mother?"
"No." at this point they were utterly confused.
"Just had to make sure. Somehow Stannis Baratheon heard from her brother that my mother's name is Wylla."
The sisters exchanged confused looks. "Do I even want to know how you met him?" Allyria asked.
Jon shook his head with a smile. "Still, Starfall was my final destination. I have no more leads to follow."
"Don't give up hope." Allyria said. "Maybe when you go back Lord Stark won't be that secretive anymore."
"I'm not heading back." He stated, earning startled looks from the sisters. "The night I left I knew I had to decide between remaining the Bastard of Winterfell or trying to find out about myself. Still, there are consequences for every choice. I gambled my place in Winterfell and maybe even the love of my siblings for the identity of my mother. I lost."
"They will welcome you back." Ashara said without a hint of doubt in her voice.
"Will they?" Jon asked rhetorically. "For all I know Robb no longer has a contending claim to Winterfell, Sansa no longer has a half-brother, Arya could finally be persuaded to join Sansa, and Bran won't have to sneak out at night to hear tales of knights."
Ashara frowned once again. Allyria's words however were strange but made him happy nonetheless. "I wouldn't mind if you were my brother. Bastard or not."
He felt his cheeks redden, but offered her a smile. "Thanks."
"I guess you resemble your father in more than just the appearance." Ashara said. "He too gave little value to himself once a time."
"Is this a bad thing?" he asked earnestly.
"It can be." The lady of violet eyes replied. "Bastard or not you should be confident and proud of your achievements. As long as you don't overdo it and it becomes arrogance, you'll be fine."
Jon nodded gratefully. "Thanks for the advice." He then became serious. "May I give one of my own in exchange?"
Ashara nodded. "You can."
"Don't make the same mistake my father did. I know there are differences between the two of you, and the way I grew up was different from the way Dyanna did, but even so, please tell her. I'm not asking this on behalf of my father or any other Stark, I'm saying as someone who genuinely cares for his family, including my half-sister."
"You have no idea how hard it is to have this kind of conversation." The older Dayne sister said. "So many times, I made up my mind on telling her the truth but never did. It's fear, Jon. Fear of hurting her, of hurting myself. Dyanna is happy here, she rarely asks about her father, and never complains when I refuse to tell her."
"I was like that too." Jon admitted. "I rarely spoke with other bastards, but I feel most of us feel like burdens to their parents, blemishes on their honor. Just as I am the sole stain on honorable Eddard Stark's reputation, Dyanna can feel she's responsible for the things said about you. But I warn you, praying that it will never happen, someday she may snap. And if that happens the last thing, I would wish was that my sister faced the same obstacles I did."
Ashara sat down in thought, with Allyria holding her hand comfortingly.
"I truly apologize for making you remember these sad memories. I also never intended any harm to befall to you." He said at last. "I feel my presence here is no longer wanted, so with your permission, I'd like to take my leave. I promise to uphold your secret."
He got up, offering a shaky nod towards the sister, mainly Allyria as Ashara kept glancing at her lap in thought.
Before he could reach for the door handle, however, it was Ashara who spoke.
"Please don't. Don't leave. Stary here."
Jon frowned. "My journey is not over."
At this point, I fear it will never be.
"Please stay here, at least for some time. I… will tell her the truth. When I do I feel she will need a brother besides her."
Jon smiled at the woman. "Then I will stay."
At Winterfell, the inhabitants often spent time inside the castle due to the heated water flowing through the walls.
In Starfall however, the opposite happened. Due to the warm climate, too warm for his liking, Jon as well as the castle inhabitants, spent time outside the walls. Ladies would embroider outside the castle, under the shadow of a dais in the open air, whilst the men would fish or swim at some of the safer sections of the Torrentine.
Jon however, decided to spend his time perfecting his craft – swordsmanship. House Dayne and the Dornish overall weren't as fond of blades as the Northmen. An irony if he ever saw any as Ser Arthur Dayne, who is often heralded as one of the greatest swordsmen in history lived in this very castle.
The castle had a main practice yard, where the guards trained and which Jon avoided as he didn't make the best of the first impressions on them, and a more secluded, smaller one, with a few straw dummies and a few targets to practice archery.
The blunted sword was of better quality than the one he salvaged at the Three Sisters, and Jon twirled it in his hands, testing the balance and grip.
Pleased with what he saw, he decided to just hone his moves.
Slashes, thrusts, parries, with both hands and several times, still or in motion.
Practicing against an opponent would be better, but Jon had to make it do with what he was given.
The warm weather made him sweat and tire faster than normal. He was readying himself to leave, when he was approached by a boy younger than him. If the lilac colors and the emblazoned crest featuring the falling star and sword weren't a giveaway of the boys' identity, the resemblance he shared with Allyria would do the job, as he had blonde, paler hair than her and eyes so blue they bordered purple.
"My lord, I was wondering if I could practice with you." The boy asked politely.
"I'm afraid I'm not a lord, I'm Jon Snow, just a bastard."
He smiled. "I heard about you from my aunts. My name is Edric Dayne, a pleasure to meet you." The smaller boy said, offering his hand in a handshake.
Jon shook hands with a smile. "Edric?"
"Yes, similar to your father. My cousin and aunts even call me Ned too."
Jon frowned at that. Edric was not an uncommon name, in fact, he could recall that one of the King's bastards was named Edric too. Still, why would Lord Dayne choose a name so similar to the name of the man who dishonored his sister and murdered his brother?
Sensing the expectant gaze of the boy, Jon just offered a smile, before noting the boy carried both a practice sword and shield. "Not a fan of the spears?"
Edric shook his head. "I wish to be like my uncle."
"An ambitious goal. Many say the Sword of the Morning was the greatest knight of his era." He decided to not mention his father's praises of the Sword of the Morning.
"I'm heading to Blackhaven soon, serve as a page to Lord Beric Dondarrion. Did you squire for anyone?"
Snow shook his head. "We Northmen don't value knighthood that much as it strays from our gods, so there are few knights in the North."
The Dayne boy nodded in understanding. "We have a Godswood in this castle."
"Really?"
It was a grateful surprise, as Jon knew very few of these remained in the south.
"Our house descends from the First Men too." It was another fact Jon didn't know. "I can take you there if you wish, although I'd love to spar first."
"I'm afraid that will have to wait." A feminine voice said and Jon immediately lost his breath as he turned to the source.
Standing in front of him was a girl as pretty as Allyria, with long, cascading silky black hair and pale skin.
Her eyes, however.
He only saw eyes like that thrice.
Father.
Arya.
And himself, whenever he decided to look into his own reflection.
"Jon Snow." The girl said. "We need to talk."
Notes: The long waited meeting is done, I hope you enjoyed it. People seemed keen on some Jon/Allyria interaction and her as a possible pairing for Jon. I will repeat that I haven't decided yet, but for now, I feel some tidbits of Jon's thoughts on the fairer sex would be welcomed. The Wikia has Allyria Dayne depicted as being of tan skin and black hair, but there are no descriptions of her in canon. Since both Ashara and Dyanna already were brunettes, I decided to have her look more like Edric, with pale-blond hair and purplish eyes.
There are some theories of how Allyria is in fact the bastard daughter of Ashara and Brandon Stark, but I decided to not explore that angle, so we have both her and Dyanna, who is indeed Ned's daughter.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next one will wrap up the Dorne Arc, then it's a quick trip towards the Reach and the time skip, where I will finally return to other characters' POVs.
Now to answer some reviews:
Pixie Duck - It's a matter of wording and Jon deliberately downplaying his achievements to make Stannis more agreeable. Jon is still a better swordsman than Robb.
Can'tComeUpWithName - I disagree with your review. I don't feel it was filler as Jon's thoughts and Stannis' insights could be better put on display, with some of it propelling Jon to future character development.
Maric won the spar due to Jon not being used to fighting atop a deck. Professional athletes often struggle with that, hence why we have different variations of the same sport (volleyball x beach volleyball; field hockey x ice hockey)
Zephiro123 - I admit the conversation x chapter length ratio was off. I also believe the talk with Ashara and Allyria in this one had that problem too. I'm trying to improve that aspect of my work.
Guest - Donal Noye filled that role in the canon, so I don't think you have to be in a person's shoes to give sage advice.
sasuhinaop - If Stannis and Ned properly communicated there would be only one book. Speaking from my personal opinion, I believe Stannis resents or is envious of Ned. Ned has a great relationship and the ear of Robert whilst Stannis who is equally capable does not. Also, Robert praised Ned for relieving the siege of Storm's End whilst Stannis faced starvation.
On the other hand, I don't feel Ned would punish a parent through their children, as bitter as he was (and should be) with both Lyanna and Rhaegar. So, I don't feel having Jon as a bastard was a punishment, it was solely the best way to protect Lyanna's son.