Reviews make me write faster! - I use the quatermaester interactive game of thrones map when writing.
Jon Snow
Jon looked around Lord Renly's solar again, still unable to believe the situation he found himself in. Arya meanwhile, was still smirking at her cunning. She had been the one to inform Lord Renly that it was his seventeenth name day, before going on to demand that that he throw Jon a feast.
That Arya loved him so much never failed to warm his heart. Jon had always known he was lucky to have the love of all his trueborn siblings. Even Sansa, always the coolest towards him, had given him a tabard in the style of the southern knights today when he had broken his fast with his family.
Of course, it was Sansa, so she had taken the chance to snootily admonish him to not wear it except to feasts, as if he was a Wildling that didn't know that silk had no place on the battlefield. But that didn't change the fact that she'd stitched it herself out of white silk, and trimmed it with grey fur, when she didn't even have to acknowledge his nameday at all. Let alone devote so much of her time to making his gift.
Arya though? Arya was special.
She was his favourite, unsurprisingly given how much her determination to make something of herself spoke to him. But what astounded Jon was that he was her favourite too. Not Robb; strong and lordly, always looking out for them all. Not Bran; sweet and kind, bringing joy to all of Winterfell even as he drove many of them mad with fear with his climbing. Not even little Rickon; wild and free in a way none of them had been since the duty of House Stark's mantle had fallen on them. Arya had chosen him.
Jon had wanted to both hug her and strangle her as she proudly announced what she had done for his name day, her trademark mischievous smirk fully in place.
Less than a week after Lord Renly had gone to such trouble to show him how lucky his life had been compared to many who shared his birth, and his sister went and demanded that a name day feast be thrown for him. In a lord paramount's solar, in the Red Keep, when his own father had let him know that he could not throw one for him in the Tower of the Hand because of the damage it would do to his reputation among the Seven worshiping southerners. Just like how he could not seat Jon at the high table as usual when the Royal court visited Winterfell.
Jon doubted it was the attitude Lord Renly had wanted to see after the lessons he had taken so much trouble to impart to him.
Thankfully the young lord hadn't thought the feast was his idea. Nor, thank the gods, had he been insulted that Arya obviously thought that the damage to his reputation for doing this didn't matter. He'd simply ruffled her hair, causing her to pout, before giving Jon one of his infamous winks and remarking he always enjoyed an excuse for a celebration.
Jon had to admit. Lord Renly did look very happy, as if he didn't have a care in the world while he talked intensely with Ser Loras over the magnificent food. Perhaps he genuinely didn't care about the whispers of how he was allowing a bastard to influence him? Or perhaps it was something else that had greatly pleased him these last few days. Whatever it was, Jon didn't care. He was just glad to see the young lord and his own knight so happy.
Jon didn't take any offence that both had done little except wish him a happy nameday either, leaving the true feasting to him, Arya and Edric. That he had done this at all for him was more than enough.
Speaking of Arya, she was currently pretend sparring with his fellow squire with mutton legs standing in for swords.
"Take that foul beast!" She exclaimed as she 'slipped' passed Edric's guard.
"Oh! I'm wounded! What cruel world is this where the fair lady strikes the knight rather than awaiting rescue?!"
"I am not a lady!"
Jon snorted at Edric's play acting, even as Arya's shriek cut across the solar, pulling Loras and Renly out of their intense conversation and causing them both to snicker.
They decided to take their leave as Arya chased Edric around the solar, pelting him with nuts and demanding he retract his declaration that she was a lady.
Jon noted amusedly that she was not asking the Dornish boy to retract his description of her as 'fair'.
Still, despite how welcome all of this was, Jon couldn't help but feel incomplete.
Robb wasn't here.
Bran and Rickon's absences were easier to deal with. As much as he loved them, they were children, and they'd either not yet been born or had been missing from most of his name day feasts at Winterfell. Mainly due to Lady Catelyn insisting their young age made it inappropriate.
But Robb? Robb was his elder by four weeks, as he had been born late and Jon early. They had always been together. Robb was the rock steady presence that Jon had always been able to count on. Ever since the day, before either of them could remember, when Robb had claimed him as his brother in defiance of Lady Catelyn's wishes.
The only way her darling firstborn had ever truly defied her.
"I miss them too." Arya spoke softly, suddenly appearing at his side and hugging him.
"Who?" Edric asked curiously.
"My brothers." Jon smiled encouragingly at his fellow squire. He was a different person when Arya was around, her confidence seemingly able to infect him as well. Causing him to give voice to thoughts that Jon was certain would have otherwise stayed unvoiced, given how little they had spoken despite them both squiring for two men who seemed to be inseparable.
Edric seemed to study him for a moment before speaking quietly. "I know I'm not your true brother, but we are milk brothers. I'm glad I've been able to meet you."
Jon's world turned upside down. He couldn't breathe.
Why couldn't he breathe?
"Jon is my brother, not yours!" Arya hissed, all friendliness disappearing as she clung tightly to him. "Besides, you're from Dorne. How could you and Jon share blood?"
"Milk brothers, not blood." Edric emphasised hastily, shrinking back. "My lady mother had no milk when I was born, so Wylla had to nurse me."
"Who's Wylla?" Arya asked, her hostility lessening even as the name rattled around Johns head.
"Jon's mother." Edric stated quietly, looking like he wanted to sink through the floor.
Jon's knees gave out and he fell to the floor in shock, looking dumbly at Edric.
"You knew my mother?" He had no idea how he managed to choke the words out, but Arya swiftly moved to stand in front of him.
"If you're lying, I'll punch your face!" she snarled.
"Wylla served us for years and years, before I was born. When my aunt, Lady Ashara, was the Lady of Starfall. I've heard the story a thousand times, I swear it."
"What story?" Jon was glad Arya spoke up for him, as he was still speechless.
"My Uncle was Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning and a member of the Mad King's Kingsguard. He was one of the guards Prince Rhaegar had set around Lady Lyanna. Lord Stark killed him in combat when he rescued his sister, but he's an honourable man and decided to return Dawn to Starfall rather than keep our family sword for himself."
Edric stammered but continued, as Arya glared fiercely when it seemed he would stop.
"Wylla was one of the attendants who'd been with Lady Lyanna before she died. Lord Eddard fell to grief when he discovered his sister dying of fever and lay with Wylla in despair when his sister passed. By the time he reached Starfall Wylla was showing, and the wound his bannermen Lord Reed had suffered was festering. So he waited until the babe was born and Lord Reed recovered. He named the babe Jon and took you back with him to Winterfell as soon as he could find a wetnurse to travel with him.
"You swear this?" Jon begged desperately.
"I swear it on the honour of my house." Edric babbled nervously. "That's the story my parents heard from Lady Ashara, before she threw herself into the sea from atop the Palestone Sword. They were in Sunspear when Lord Eddard was at Starfall."
"Why would she throw herself off the tower?" Arya asked, confused.
Jon was barely paying attention.
Wylla. His mother's name was Wylla. She wasn't highborn, like he'd always dreamed, but she'd survived his birth. She was alive in Dorne. Did she know anything about him? Did she want to know? Had she fought his father to keep him? Or had she been glad to see him go? He thought knowing his mother's name would answer his questions. Instead, he had so many more.
"I don't think it's my place my lady." Edric responded, looking like he wanted to bolt for the door.
That was the wrong thing to say as Arya promptly grabbed a fistful of Edric's tabard and pulled him close until they were face to face.
"Why did Lady Ashara jump?" The young girl hissed
"Lord Stark broke her heart." Edric whispered, looking anywhere but at them. "They fell in love at the tourney at Harenhall and they planned to marry, but then your uncle Brandon was killed and Lord Tully demanded that your father wed Lady Catelyn in his place. My aunt was devastated, but she understood. But then the man she loved arrived at her own holdfast, having married someone else, killed her brother, and had a child with a maid… She couldn't live with the guilt of loving her brother's killer, not as well as the regret of him abandoning their pledge to marry and the anger at him laying with a maid. She threw herself into the sea less than a month after Lord Stark left Starfall."
"Liar!" Arya screamed, raining punches down on Edric who simply raised his arms and huddled into a ball as best he could. "Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar!"
Arya finally stopped screaming and bolted for the door herself, tears streaming down her face.
Jon felt them welling in his own eyes. His father had made a lady throw herself from a tower.
His father had made a lady throw herself from a tower.
His father had made a lady throw herself from a tower.
Jon barely realised that he too had left the room and was walking to Lord Renly's chambers. He couldn't go to his lord father's. Arya would be there, and how was he supposed to ask his father if it was true? If he had really behaved so dishonourably that Lady Ashara had killed herself because of him? If that was true what else had he done? Had his mother lain with him willingly or had he forced himself on her? Jon felt dirty even thinking such thoughts about his father, but after everything Edric had said he just couldn't stop thinking it. Was that why his mother had never sought him out? Because he was the result of rape?
Lord Renly would know the truth of the story. Jon was sure of it. Lord Renly seemed to know everything.
Jon didn't even knock, just used his key in the lock and wandered numbly inside.
"Ughh!"
The guttural moans finally penetrated Jon's brain as he looked over to see Lord Renly standing naked at the foot of his bed, his hips pumping as a pair of hairless legs wrapped around him.
Jon blushed and tried to move quietly back towards the door. He was no stranger to sex, Theon's constant regaling of his exploits at the whorehouses in Wintertown had seen to that. So had Robb's retelling of his own experience when he and Jon had gone together, even if Jon hadn't been able to fuck the whore Robb had bought for him for fear of putting a bastard in her.
But truthfully, he had expected better of Lord Renly somehow. He'd thought the young lord was like father, not like the other highborn, that he wouldn't fuck whores and kitchen maids.
Jon refused to look back over at the Stormlands lord, but the sounds he was making proved that yes he very much would fuck whores and kitchen maids. Jon felt another piece of his heart break as yet another person let him down.
First the revelations about his mother, then his father, and now the man who showed him the most kindness outside his family was shown to be just another privileged lord, fucking whoever he liked and not caring if he put a bastard in her and ruined her life.
"Is that the best you can do my lord? You're my stag! Not a common buck! Fuck me harder!"
Jon froze. He knew that voice. That same strident voice of command barked orders at him in the practice yard every day.
Silently he crept to the left, away from the door, so he could see past Lord Renly, praying to all the gods that he was imagining things.
He couldn't be…they couldn't be…
Jon watched as Loras Tyrell threw his head back, gasping and laughing as Renly Baratheon did as ordered and fucked the pretty young knight harder, making Loras' manhood bounce madly every time his own pounded into Jon's knight.
Jon felt what little was left of his world crash down around him as he cried out in despair, uncaring about the noise. He turned and fled Lord Renly's chambers, sobs wracking his body as he finally let the tears fall.
Eddard Stark
Ned was working in his solar when Arya barged through the door and clung to him like a limpet, crying.
"It's not true! He's a filthy liar!"
"Who's a filthy liar and what isn't true?" Ned asked, utterly perplexed by Arya's words and behaviour.
"Edric's a filthy liar! He said you were in love with Lady Ashara then made her jump into the sea!" Arya wailed tearfully.
Ice flowed through Ned's veins at the memories his youngest daughter conjured up. He forgot she was even there for a few moments as the beautiful face and violet eyes of Ashara Dane filled his vision for the first time in a long time.
A very long time.
Ned cursed himself for not expecting this. Of course the boy would talk about his Aunt eventually, of course his children would hear the story. But in truth, he'd spent so long trying to forget about everything that had happened in Dorne that he had refused let himself think about it at all. Now he had to pay the price of that.
"Arya." Ned looked down at his little girl, she was still scrawny, but he could no longer pick her up easily. Why did children have to grow up so fast? "There is some truth in what he says."
"No… No No No No No!" Arya screamed and tried to pull away, but Ned held her to him tightly until she stopped.
"I love your mother, never doubt that." Ned spoke despite his mouth being as dry as the deserts of Essos. "But when I met Lady Ashera at Harenhall, your mother and I had never met, and she was pledged to marry your Uncle Brandon."
Arya sniffed quietly as Ned fought desperately not to fall to deeply into painful memories.
"When I first saw Lady Ashara I thought she was very beautiful. Your Uncle Brandon had your mother, and he wanted me to be happy too, so he introduced me to Lady Ashara and bid we spend some time together. He knew me very well, and Lady Ashara and I...we fell in love."
"You love mother. She's the only one you love!" Arya protested.
"Aye sweetling, she's the only one I love now. But then? I hadn't even met her, and she was pledged to my brother besides. How could I love her?"
Arya pursed her lips and looked sullen. But eventually she nodded. Ned doubted she would have accepted that if anyone but himself had told her, but the fact that he had explained things himself seemed to make her more willing to consider things properly.
"Lady Ashara and I fell in love," Ned continued, trying not to choke at the memories of a full laugh and vibrant smile, "and we pledged to marry each other. I was a second son and had nothing to inherit in the North, so my father would have considered it a good match, and her brother the same. So, we pledged ourselves to each other, and we left Harenhall certain we would be wed before the year turned. Do you remember what happened next?"
"The Mad King burned Grandfather and Uncle Brandon." Arya whispered.
"That's right. And suddenly I wasn't a second son anymore, I wasn't even the heir, I was the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, and in open rebellion against the Iron Throne."
Ned closed his eyes at the memory, the terrible memory of the fate that had befallen his father and brother.
"Robert brought the Stormlands, Jon Arryn the Vale, and I brought the North. But we needed more men, we needed the Riverlands. They were supposed to be with us because Brandon would be married to your mother, but he was dead. So I had to step into his boots and marry your mother in his place."
"Did you stop loving Lady Ashara?" Arya asked.
"No, my little wolf." Ned smiled at her sadly. "I still loved her, and I hadn't even met your mother yet, we didn't meet until our wedding day. But I was the Lord of Winterfell now, and I had responsibilities. As much as I wanted to marry for love, I couldn't. I had to marry for the good of our house, to bring House Tully and the Riverlands to our side. Lady Ashara knew that as much as I did, her heart was still broken, as was mine, but we both accepted that I had a new duty."
"You…you lied? You lied when you told us you love mother?!" Arya yelled, becoming angry again.
"I didn't love her then little wolf," Ned admitted, "and she didn't love me either." Arya fell silent as he said that. Likely she had never considered that Cat hadn't loved him either at the time. In fact, he was sure that Cat had gone to their wedding bed thinking of Brandon. Just as he had gone thinking of Ashara.
But that was not something Arya needed to hear.
"But there are two types of love, sweetling. The first is the type I felt for Lady Ashara, the type you feel straight away, the type that springs itself upon you nearly fully formed. The second is the type I and your mother have. It comes from spending a long time together, working and respecting each other, building it up slowly, piece by piece. I love your mother dearly, and she loves me, but we built that together, stone by stone, over many years of hard work. It took time, but it simply made falling in love all the sweeter for us, and she will tell you the same."
Arya looked down, mutinous. But gradually she seemed to come around to the idea and relaxed a little more.
"What… what happened to Lady Ashara?" She asked carefully.
Here the icy pain turned into raging inferno in Ned's heart at the unjustness of life. He would never have betrayed Catelyn with his body, but the heart was something that not many could control. He had loved Ashara Dayne, and her death still hurt him, just as Cat's would if she departed the world before him as Ashara had. If he could bring back any two of the fallen from the Rebellion it would be her and Lyanna, the unjustness of their deaths tore at him even more than father's and brother's did.
"It was war little wolf. Sometimes, in war, you can have friends, even family, on your enemies' side. Ser Arthur Dayne was a knight of the Kingsguard, pledged to protect the Mad King and Prince Rhaegar till his death. He was an honourable man, and he kept that vow, no matter what he thought of them both. It gave me no joy to kill him, but I had to. Just as it would have given him no joy to kill me, but he tried to."
Ned left out what such an honourable man protecting Lyanna implied. Arthur Dayne clearly had not been resentful of that duty when he'd faced him, as he certainly would have been if he had been forced by his vows to hold her prisoner, to hold her down, if his Prince commanded. He wasn't foolish enough to miss what that meant, but he'd kept those thoughts hidden even from himself for decades. He'd only speak of them with the one person who truly deserved to know.
"Is that why she jumped? Not because you didn't marry her?"
Arya could't keep the hope out of her voice and Ned couldn't blame her. No child wanted to think ill of their father. For Arya's sake, he left out that him being responsible for Ser Arthur's death, turning the person most able to bring Ashara the comfort she desperately needed into the largest cause of her pain, had likely played a large part in her being unable to live with the grief of losing so much.
"Lady Ashara lost many people in the war Arya. She lost her brother, she lost her best friend, Elia Martell, in the sack of Kings Landing, she lost a dear mentor in when Prince Lewin fell among the ten thousand Dornish that fought beside Prince Rhaegar on the Trident, and she lost still more friends among those that had fled with Queen Rhaella to Dragonstone. Grief…Grief can make a person do strange things sweetling. A person can only carry so much grief, just as a horse can only carry so much weight."
They both sat in silence for a long time, Ned simply holding his youngest daughter, as if she were a babe again.
"May I go and practice dancing, father?" Arya eventually asked quietly, it was late, so she likely simply wanted to work off her anger and frustration more than practice.
Ned wanted to leave it there, he truly did. But his honour would not allow another to suffer for speaking the truth.
"What did you do to Edric?" He asked.
"Northing!" Arya blurted out, crossing her arms.
"Arya." Ned intoned firmly. He didn't dare make any comment about lying based on the conversation they had just had. But thankfully, the force of his displeasure was enough.
"I punched him, a lot." Arya admitted, looking determinedly at the floor.
"Did he defend himself?" Ned asked. Arya didn't have any visible bruises but...
"No. He just kept saying he was sorry." Arya admitted, clearly feeling wretched about having continued to strike someone who had yielded. At least he had got that bit of her education right.
"Then you must go to him and ask his forgiveness. He spoke the truth, and he did so only because he thought you already knew it, not to cause you pain."
Arya looked defiant for a moment, her unwillingness to apologise to anyone but him warring with her guilt. But eventually, her guilt won out.
She headed towards the door, but before she left, she turned back to face him again with a frown on her face.
"Father, does that mean what he told Jon about them being milk-brothers was true too?"
Ned's head snapped around face his youngest daughter. "What?"
Arya was studying the floor again, but she still answered his question. "He said that his lady mother had no milk for him when he was born so a servant called Wylla nursed him. He said that Wylla was Jon's mother and so that made them milk-brothers."
Ned's heart pounded in his chest. The lies Ashara had come up with as her final gift to him were not fool proof, the timing of Jon's birth had left them too little room to manoeuvre for that. Calling attention to them was a danger that needed to be avoided if at all possible.
"Yes, it's true. I will speak no more of it with you though. It seems the time has come to tell Jon the truth of things, and he should be the first to hear about his mother from me."
Thankfully Arya seemed to accept that, slipping away as Ned strode to the door himself. It seemed he had another pack member to find.
Ned had gone first to Lord Renly's chambers. Despite what Littlefinger and Cat said about him, Jon seemed to be in awe of the young lord. So had likely gone to him as he knew that Ned himself would be with Arya.
Renly certainly knew how to use discipline and reward in equal measure. While Ned was still left grinding his teeth whenever he saw the cocky smirk on Mace Tyrell's youngest son, he had to admit it'd been the most effective method of disciplining Jon he'd ever seen. Just as rewarding him by giving him the trust and responsibility of training some of the guards had been the most effective method of motivating him he'd ever seen.
Littlefinger suspected that Renly had the position of Castellan of Storm's End in mind for Jon, as Ser Cortnay Penrose's father was apparently in the process of departing the world. If Jon replaced him when Ser Cortnay left for the Penrose lands to take up his lordly duties, it would give Jon a good position, give Renly a good castellan, and forge a solid link between the North and the Stormlands that did not rely on Robert while sidestepping the problem of Renly's lack of children to marry off.
Cat had not taken that revelation well, for all that it meant Jon would be far from Robb and Winterfell. Truthfully, Ned didn't know what to make of it himself yet.
In any case that journey had been in vain. Renly had received him with every courtesy, despite the lateness of the hour, but had regretfully informed him that while he was speaking with Arya, Jon had come to a revelation that had put the two of them at odds. So not only was he not there, he also wasn't likely to seek Renly out till the morrow at least.
Ned had taken his leave, deciding to figure out what that revelation had been later.
Right now he had a son to find.
Thankfully his second choice of locations to search had born more fruit.
Ghost bared his teeth silently at him from the stable stall as he approached but Ned continued. He was of the North and refused to cower. Eventually the light from the lantern picked out the boy in white silk and grey fur at his side. Jon lifted his head out of the direwolf's fur as the soft light fell over his face.
"Ghost." Jon commanded his direwolf to sit, though he still clung to him, and the suspicion in his eyes when he looked at Ned hurt him greatly.
"I've clearly left this discussion too long." Ned intoned as he gestured for permission to join Jon on the straw of the stable floor.
Jon froze for a moment, before nodding his permission. "Arya is your trueborn father; 'tis only right you dealt with her first."
Bitterness filled Jon's tone and Ned frowned as he hung the lantern on the hook above them and joined Jon on the straw of the stable floor.
"Arya is younger and a girl besides. That is why she deserves to be comforted first, not anything to do with your birth."
"Forgive me father." Jon had looked defiant for a moment, but the fight had left him as soon as the arms of the silken tabard Sansa had made for him caught the light and he crumpled.
"There's nothing to forgive Jon. You have every right to be angry, as I said, I should have had this conversation long ago. I hope you can forgive my being craven in the matter."
Jon blanched at Ned admitting to being anything but the strong and fearless Warden of the North.
"Father! I would never call you craven!"
"Nevertheless, I have been. I should've told you about Lady Ashara as soon as I realised you would be spending time in the company of her nephew. In truth I should've told you about your mother when you came of age last year. But I was craven both times. I let my fear of the pain those memories hold for me overcome my duty to you, I only hope you can forgive me."
Jon gave in and embraced Ned.
"Everything was so wonderful today, then it all fell apart so fast." The boy's voice ached with bitterness.
"Aye." Ned remarked equally bitterly. "Life has a tendency to do that to you. Especially if the blood of House Stark runs in your veins."
Jon laughed, bitterness still filling his tone as well. "I'm sorry father, I'm a man grown, I shouldn't be hiding in the sable like a boy."
"As long as no one can see you I care not how you deal with your troubles Jon." Ned replied holding him close. "I have wept bitter tears many times in my life, when my bannermen could not see."
Jon looked up in shock before falling back into his father's embrace. "Did…did you weep for Lady Ashara?" Jon practically begged, clearly longing for some proof that the dark thoughts he must certainly be having of him bedding and then callously abandoning Lady Ashara were wrong.
"The only time I've wept harder and longer than when I learned of Ashara Dayne's death was the day my sister died." Ned replied truthfully, as he held Jon close and told him the same story that he had told Arya.
"The gods are cruel," Jon proclaimed angrily, "to give a lady more grief than she can carry."
"Aye, they are." Ned remarked. He still believed in the gods of his ancestors. But after everything that had befallen his father, brother, sister, and love, he didn't hold any illusions that they cared for men who prayed to them any more than the Mad King had cared for the smallfolk when he held court.
"Edric said…said that my mother's name was Wylla." Jon said tentatively, looking up at him again.
Ned pulled him into an embrace again, made sure that his lips were next to Jon's ear, and whispered as quietly as he could. "A lie to keep you safe. We will ride out alone tomorrow and I will tell you the truth where there are fewer ears."
He released Jon as the young man looked up at him in shock and disbelief. Ned looked at him pointedly.
"That is true, Wylla is your mother, though I will say no more tonight. Speaking of Lady Ashara has been all the grief I can stomach. On the morrow we shall ride out together and I will answer all your questions. I promise."
Many emotions warred across Jon's face, but eventually he settled on determination. "I will hold you to that father."
"Good." Ned smiled slightly. "I will let Ser Loras know that I have need of you."
At his knight's name, Jon's expression changed again. Confusion, disgust, curiosity, shame, and embarrassment all warred for dominance.
"I thought it was Lord Renly your revelation put you at odds with?" Ned frowned.
Though now that he thought about it, Ned couldn't imagine Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell on opposite sides of anything. So perhaps he shouldn't be surprised that Jon was at odds with his knight as well.
"I…I…I..." Jon choked, his face a flaming red.
"Speak up. If you are at odds with Lord Renly and Ser Loras it is important that I know why." Ned commanded, wondering if the Stormlands Lord had asked Jon to attempt to influence him. Or perhaps Jory Cassel or Vayon Pool, that was perhaps more likely for a man of Renly's cunning.
"I sought out Lord Renly to ask his counsel about my mother. He seems to know everything. I was too distressed to announce myself and I walked in on him…dishonouring…Ser Loras." Jon muttered, is face aflame.
"Ah." Ned remarked, nodding slowly. Truthfully, given what Littlefinger had told him and Cat, the only surprise he felt was that it was Ser Loras who was the maid. Given the Tyrell's muscles and skill at arms, he had expected it to be Lord Renly.
"I take it Ser Loras was not…protesting...his treatment?" Ned was sure that the Knight of Flowers would have been able to easily overpower the Stormlands Lord Paramount if he wasn't willing. But he felt it best to confirm it now he had the opportunity. Blackmail could defeat even the strongest knight after all.
"No!" Jon squeaked, which made Ned want to laugh. "No, he was commanding Lord Renly, despite his…position."
That made more sense to Ned. He briefly thought it strange that the maid would be issuing commands, but then the thought of the Mormont women in the bedchamber flittered across his mind and he allowed himself a brief smirk.
"I see. I imagine this was a shock to you."
"It's unnatural!" Jon cried. "Such men are perverse, disgusting, cravens that will do anything to fulfil their unnatural desires!"
"And bastards are evil, thieving, ambitious, sly, and will do anything to usurp their trueborn siblings and steal their inheritance."
Jon looked horrified as Ned regarded him coldly.
"If I wanted to hear the words of the Seven, Jon, I would have sought out my lady wife."
"You don't think they're like that?" Jon asked. Looking at his feet.
"You've been Ser Loras' squire for weeks and you have had nothing but praise for him and Lord Renly, so I am confident that neither of them are disgusting or perverse. As for a craven nature? It is a brave man indeed who would accuse the Knight of Flowers of such; and Lord Renly is no craven either. Even if he did vomit in the melee when that boy's eye was left dangling out of its socket."
Jon snickered at the memory. "So the only thing that is true is that their desires are unnatural? Like I'm a bastard, but none of the other things people say are true?"
Ned looked pained when Jon referred to himself as a bastard, but still nodded in conformation. "Exactly so. And I think you knew that anyway. If not, you would not have been so effuse in your praise of them both."
"I just don't understand how they could want to lay with each other." Jon admitted quietly.
"I don't understand how Robert can whore his way through the Seven Kingdoms and feel no shame." Ned replied honestly. "It doesn't make me love him any less. Have your feelings for Ser Loras and Lord Renly changed, beyond confusion that they enjoy laying with each other?"
Jon considered the question for several moments before coming to a decision. "No father."
"Then after our ride, return to them and apologise for your actions. Tell the truth, that you were simply shocked and surprised, and inform them that you will be more mindful of locked doors in future."
Jon nodded before frowning. "You didn't seem surprised to learn about them."
"It is far from the first time I've come across such men. Such things are more frequent among an army on the march, where there aren't enough whores for all the men and the canvass of field tents does little to muffle sound." Ned replied bluntly. "In truth the only surprising thing is that they seem to be in love rather than lust. I had thought such men only found pleasure in each other, not love."
He left unsaid the whispers he had heard about Ser Loras and Lord Renly from many in the court, not just Littlefinger. The whispers were an excellent weapon to use to weaken the young Lord's standing, given his lack of inclination towards the martial arts, so he had been unsure whether to believe them. But given that Lord Renly had treated him with nothing but respect, outwardly at least, and Jon had nothing but praise for him, Ned had felt that the truth of the matter made little difference in the end.
That was confirmed by the fact that he now knew the truth, and the only difference it made to him was that he now knew why Robert felt such apathy for his younger brother. Robert was a firm believer that swinging a sword and fucking a woman were the hight of manhood, and that hunting was the only acceptable diversion. For his own brother to do neither of those as he spurned hunts for masquerade balls and spent more on clothes in a month than he had on weapons since he came of age…taken together it all undoubtedly galled the eldest Baratheon.
Jon flushed again. "Lord Renly was right; I know nothing of the world outside of Winterfell."
Ned frowned. "Are you saying that you knew nothing of men laying together aside from the lessons that damn septon gave all of you? I charged Robb with taking you to the brothel when you both came of age to ensure you both know what to do. Surely the madam had a boy or two among the girls when you picked? Madams know better than to let whispers about who high lords lay with to spread if they want their brothel to stay in business."
Or at least that's how Robert explained things to him the only time he had let his friend to take him to one in Gulltown on his own coming of age. He'd never intended to enter one at all, but Robert, Elbert, and Denys had teased Ned so much about not knowing where to put it that he ended up feeling that he was allowed one visit. The dishonour he would do his lady wife on their wedding night if it turned out he really didn't know where to put it demanded it, to ensure he wouldn't bring such shame on her.
He'd given Rob a bag of coin and his strict instructions that this was the single visit they were allowed to ensure that they could also do right by their future lady wives.
"Robb picked for me." Jon answered quietly into Ghost's fur as he blushed.
Ned ran a hand over his face. "Did you at least work out where everything went?"
"I…couldn't do it." Jon muttered, unable to meet his father's eyes. "I just kept thinking, 'What if I put a bastard in her? What if I bring another bastard named Snow into the world to face all the scorn I have, but without my father's protection?' and...I .. couldn't get…hard."
Ned breathed deeply, trying to control the pain and anger Jon's words caused him to feel at the hand the gods had dealt the boy. "Robb told me nothing of this. He said it went well for both of you."
"Robb's always looked out for me father." Jon defended his brother with fire, looking into Ned's eyes. "When he found out what happened he promised to tell no one and taught me what to say for when Theon asked us for details."
Ned hugged Jon to him tightly, reassured to see once more the fierce love that Robb and Jon hand for one another. "Then I must write him telling him how proud I am that at least one of us has done right by you."
Jon flushed. "You have too father. Lord Renly took me to Fleabottom to show me what awaits most bastards, and to the Street of Flour to show me what awaits bastards that their fathers do right by and send to learn a trade. You've done better by me than I had any right to expect. I know that now."
Ned's grip on Jon tightened almost painfully.
"We will discuss this on the morrow", he said, getting up from the stable floor, "you will sleep in the Tower of the Hand tonight, and we will ride out at dawn. It becomes more apparent by the minute that I have left this conversation far too long."
His tone brooked no argument, so Jon simply nodded his head as his father pulled him to his feet, straw sticking out of his black curls at all angles, and followed Ned back to the Tower of the Hand.
"Don't tell Sansa I was wearing my silk tabard in the stable?" he begged.
Fanfic Recommendation: Burning Snow and Purple Dawn by Wyanmai – It feels very appropriate to recommend this Ashara Dayne centred fanfic in this chapter! Here, Catelyn dies in childbirth delivering Robb, which leaves Ned free to marry his love. Sansa and Arya are recognisable, despite Ashara now being their mother not Catelyn, the children that replace Bran and Rickon are fantastic characters and enjoyable to read. How things go when Ned has someone who is actually good at the game of thrones at his side (rather than just thinking they're good at it, as Catelyn does) has made for a really enjoyable story so far, and it is about to enter the true Game of Thrones era. Give it a read!