Jaeron Targaryen
Winterfell, 299AC
Chaos was the only word that came to mind as they all prepared for the visit. Catelyn running around making sure everything was set up correctly with Sansa hot on her heels, Lord Stark making sure everything was accounted for alongside Robb. Bran trying to sneak in an archery lesson which Arya graciously ruined by showing him up by hitting the bullseye. Rickon in his lessons and if the sounds coming from his room were anything to go by- was not enjoying being cooped up being forced to learn with the hustle and bustle of the castle. Then there was Jon.
Since it was only the family and Howland Reed who knew the truth, he was still being treated as the bastard of Winterfell. Something that he had gotten used to and had created a mask to hide how much it hurt that he couldn't partake in any of the celebrations. Something he now felt no resent over as he now knew who he was. He felt guilt ebb deep inside of him as he remembered the long talk Eddard had with him the night prior, a talk which turned into an accusatory screaming match between the pair as Jon let out all his anger. He'd felt horrible for it and for taking it out on the man who had risked so much to keep him safe, but he needed to get it out.
However, he now had some closure towards everything. His uncle had confirmed to him that he had marched with Robert as he genuinely believed that there was foul play going on and to avenge his father and older brother. It wasn't this that was bothering the young boy. It was that he had continued his whole life to paint Robert Baratheon as someone to be looked up to and he cared for deeply. It was obvious that deep down, Ned Stark still hoped some of the boy he grew up with in the Eyrie was still the same, and nobody wanted to dampen this tiny bit of faith he had.
No, Robert Baratheon did not order the deaths of his siblings or Elia, but he had rejoiced over it. He had also confirmed that Ned was the only person to call it out for what it was- cold blooded murder. It had apparently led to a massive confrontation between the new King and the Lord, and his uncle had stormed out of the Red Keep in disgust to begin lifting the siege at Storm's End. It was only after his uncle had returned with his mother's bones that the pair had reconciled. Well, today he would see just how shaky the relationship between the two really was. They had already received a report from Wintertown confirming the entourage had been spotted on the horizon, there was no way to avoid it.
At least he had one thing going for him. As they were still going by the bastard story, this meant he couldn't be close to the King for courtesy sakes unless he demanded it himself. Hesitantly, he got dressed in his 'best' clothes which were not much better than the servants before eyeing what lay in the corner of his room. He now had the eggs sitting on an open fire which was roaring away silently. With the order given that no one was to come near his rooms until after the visit, he could have them out temporarily. Jon had no idea when they would hatch or even how he was going to get them to hatch, he just knew they were going to do so. Hopefully, it's not during this trip because it wouldn't be easy to hide two dragons.
A knocking on his door broke the silence and soon Robb peeked his head inside to let him know they would be there within the next ten minutes. The older knew how the slightly younger felt, and he had offered to listen to him as he got everything out. There's one thing about Jon that bothered people. He has a short temper, but he also bottles everything up until he cannot do so anymore. Not exactly a good combination for a Stark/Targaryen mix who were known for acting out whenever rage bubbled over. The older glanced to the fire for a moment before quirking an eyebrow up, the younger simply giving him a stern glare in response. He couldn't have people getting curious with what he had as it would unravel the web of lies his life was currently.
It wasn't snowing today like it had been for the last few days, but there was still a light dusting of it on the ground. There was a gentle warmth coming from the breeze which to a lot of people would be freezing, but to them it was nice. Northerners were built for cold weather after all. Jon took his position near the back but making sure he had enough of a view to see the famous King Robert and Queen Cersei. Who would be in their entourage? Secretly, he hoped Ser Barristan was here, always looking up to the knight since he was a young boy. Arya pushed her way by him with an oversized helmet on her head which caused him to laugh merrily. Soon, all the Starks were at the front and waiting on everyone to arrive.
Then he heard the tell-tale sound of hooves and chattering of people talking. A few Goldcloaks appeared first and personal guards, followed by some members of the Kingsguard. Followed by the Kingsguard were clearly close family members. From his angle, he could see the Imp, the Hound, Prince Joffrey, along with a bunch of Lannister soldiers alongside Baratheon soldiers. He couldn't see exactly which Kingsguards were there as all had helmets that covered majority of their faces. However, if Tyrion Lannister was here, there was a fair chance that Ser Jaime was one of them. Twin brother to Queen Cersei Lannister and older brother to Tyrion. Tyrion was riding a much smaller horse, a little larger than an average pony, his stunted legs and oversized head immediately making him recognisable. Dark blonde hair and mismatched eyes only doing more so.
And then someone rode into the courtyard on a black stallion that appeared to be a war horse due to the sheer height and build of the animal. Everyone got down onto one knee at this and Jon realised with a start that this was Robert Baratheon. He felt the rage bubble up inside of him a little, but he managed to hold it in by clenching his fists hard together. Something that Theon Greyjoy who was stood beside him noticed and gave him a strange look out the corner of his eye. His eyebrows creased as he tried to picture this man winning a battle and swinging the killing blow on his father with his war hammer. To say he was disappointed by what he saw was an understatement.
It wasn't only the Kings mount that was impressive in size, he was as well. He easily broke the six-foot barrier, but his waistline was one of the biggest Jon had ever seen. His face was all puffed up and had sweat patches on it, a thinning hairline and his black heir streaked with grey despite him only being a little older than his uncle. Someone walked up with a block and it was difficult to hide in a snort as he stepped down from his beast of a mount. He walked over to Ned and gestured for everyone to stand up. Ned was the first to greet him with a customary 'your grace' which Robert didn't even seem to acknowledge. Instead, he eyed the Lord up and down a few times.
"You've got fat."
A few people had to force themselves to hold in giggles at this, even Theon let out a short laugh which he disguised badly as a cough. Much to the youngers surprise, his uncle proceeded to do the same to Robert but he couldn't see his expression due to being a couple of rows behind, but he suspected there had been a quirked eyebrow. Then the King began laughing and stepped forward to embrace his old friend. After this, he hugged Lady Catelyn, rubbed Rickon's head, before asking why Lord Stark hadn't made an appearance in nine years. Jon was now looking to him with surprise. He wanted Ned to come down to visit him but he never came to see him in response? Was this man really that self-absorbed in himself? He looked to the side as he was now only a few feet from him and he didn't want to risk being recognised. A wheelhouse had appeared at some point amongst all the greetings, and the woman who stepped out could only be Queen Cersei if her long blonde locks and garments were anything to go by. He shook Robb's hand and gave a gentle nod to the other children.
That was when one of the Kingsguards removed their helm and he was pleased that he had been correct in his assessment that one was Ser Jaime. His chin-length blonde locks and chiselled facial structure identical to the Queen making him stand out. The Queen worked her way down the line as well and just as she got to Ned, Robert asked to be brought down to the crypts to pay his respects to Lyanna. This angered Jon even more as he bit his lip hard, being careful not to break the skin. How dare he? Pay his respects? It was this man's refusal of a two-letter-word that got his father, grandfathers, uncle, and siblings killed! Cersei chimed in now by stating they had been riding for the best part of a month and surely he could wait, but Robert simply shot her a glare before beckoning Ned to follow him.
Eddard Stark
Winterfell, 299AC
As the Lord followed his King, he shot Jon a short apologetic look. He had to bite his tongue himself despite him still caring somewhat for Robert. Although, it was becoming blatantly obvious that he was no longer the man that he once knew nor was he the boy he had grown up with in the Eyrie under Jon Arryn. Winterfell's crypts were vast and were practically a maze to those who didn't know their way around them. All Stark Lords were buried here, alongside the Stark Kings of old before Aegon's conquest three hundred years prior. After only a few minutes of walking, Robert was already breathing heavy which didn't surprise Eddard considering his rather pronounced girth. The last time he had saw him was during the Greyjoy rebellion and it was also the last time he had made a visit to Winterfell. He'd still had his impressive muscles then but he was gaining some weight, but clearly the last nine years had not done him good.
He quizzed him about Jon Arryn in case he knew anything, and unsurprisingly he didn't. Only that the elderly man was fine one day and through the night got a deadly fever that burned through him so fast that Grand Maester Pycelle couldn't stop in time. If anyone were to know what had happened, it would've been Robert. He allowed a small laugh as he bragged about how all he had wanted to do was to fuck girls, drink, and crack skulls open. But then he stood in front of him which caused Ned to stall. From the look the King was giving him, he had a feeling what was coming.
"I need you, Ned. Down with me in Kings Landing. Not up here where you're of no use to anybody. Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you Hand of the King"
Of course, he had expected it after Catelyn had brought him aside with her suspicions once she had gotten back from Castle Black with Robb and Jon. He allowed a tiny grimace to appear but he played it off as shock before kneeling and somehow managing to get out that he didn't feel he was worthy of the honour. He didn't want to go south, and he most certainly didn't want to leave his family. However, Robert immediately retorted that he wasn't honouring him and that he simply wanted him there to run the Kingdoms whilst he ate, drank, and whored himself to death.
"You helped me win the damn throne, now you will help me keep the damned thing. If Lyanna had lived, we would've been goodbrother's. Well, it's not too late. I have sons, you have daughters. My eldest son and your eldest daughter, we'll join our houses."
With that, Robert walked down the main tunnel. And there Catelyn's other suspicion was. He really needed to give her more credit where she was due. She was certainly well-versed in politics and seemingly knew how to read people very well. Even if she didn't know said person as she had proven here. If he refused the Hand position, Robert wouldn't like it but he would if played correctly accept it. But if he refused a betrothal, he would not take that kindly. Ned knew how badly the man took refused betrothals after what had happened with Lyanna. He soon caught up with him so he could lead him in the correct direction to where her bones were buried.
Robert pulled out a large feather from under his cloak, he couldn't make out what type of bird it had come from though in the darkness of the crypts. Once they got to her statue, he wasted no time in placing the feather into her hand. The statue wasn't exactly a great replica of Lyanna, but it was still simple to see who it belonged to as she was buried beside Brandon and Rickard.
"Did you have to bury her here in this dreary place?"
"She was my sister, and she was of the North. Her place is here with the family- "
"She was mine, she belonged with me. She was my betrothed. I loved her Ned, with all my heart. She deserved to be on a large hill surrounded by red roses."
Ned struggled to bite his tongue at this one. Even now, sixteen years later, he still thought of her as his. If there was one thing Lyanna despised, it was being a trophy simply because she was a Lords only daughter. From Robert's words, the Lord knew she was just that to him. An object, and she would've known it and would've been one of the reasons she refused to go through with the betrothal. And red roses? Really? It was common knowledge after the tourney of Harrenhal that Lyanna's favourite flowers were blue winter roses. Something even Rhaegar knew considering he had crowned her Queen of love and beauty at it. Even riding past Elia who had secretly been put aside at the time with her consent.
"You know, I dream about it every night. Killing him, yet it's never enough. From me spotting the damned dragon helmet and ruby encrusted armour that kidnapper wore and fighting to get to him. Determined that I would be the one to do it. To him turning around and meeting my hammer with his sword and shield. To me disarming the shield and finally catching him directly in the chest. Watching as his ribs caved in and crushing him inside, watching him fall into the river, and seeing the jewels falling from his armour into the waters to be swept away. Her name was the last thing he said to me before he took his last breath, one last insult to me."
The last part startled Ned. Robert had never disclosed in detail exactly how he had defeated the Prince, and he certainly never told him that his last word was Lyanna. Robert had taken it as insult, and it may have been meant as a final insult from Rhaegar. However, stories portrayed him as being incredibly kind to everyone. Even the smallfolk loved him which was rare for anyone highborn. It likely wouldn't have been that; he was probably trying to get out that he had married her and did not kidnap her to clear his name. But there was no way to know for certain exactly what had transpired that day, all people could go on was Robert's word.
After this, both walked out and went their separate ways. Robert towards his wife and eldest son Joffrey, and Ned to tell Catelyn her suspicions had been correct. She had simply nodded silently before going to tell Sansa herself, but he did ask her to say he was considering it. If he could, he would outright deny it. But Sansa was already smitten with the Prince, that much was clear to see when he had ridden in on his gelding. Very much looking like someone had stepped out of a storybook. He knew she wouldn't take it kindly if he refused, and the last thing he needed was to deny one of the kids something they desperately wanted.
Jaeron Targaryen
Winterfell, 299AC
Sansa had not stopped talking when she heard which was to be expected. Speaking on how she hoped her father would accept. Not that he had a choice, Jon knew the last thing Eddard Stark wanted was to plunge the North into a war. Arya simply rolled her eyes in annoyance as despite the Prince being handsome, the way he held himself as he rode in was nothing short of arrogance. Holding the poor horses head up at a clearly uncomfortable angle, his smirk as he looked down on them from his mount, and the way he had his nose held up high in the air. Clearly, the boy was spoiled beyond measure, which wasn't uncommon for royalty. It wasn't only Arya who had noticed the Prince's attitude though, Robb noticed as well and was trying to talk sense into her, him wholly agreeing. Although, he was doing so as he didn't want her anywhere near the man who had aided in tearing his family apart.
"Enough you two. I told you both at Castle Black this was most likely going to happen, and we'd be stupid to refuse. Yes, your father could deny the Hand position without huge repercussion considering he's the Warden of the North. But he cannot risk refusing this betrothal. Not only would the King take it as a slight and therefore all the Baratheon's will, the Lannister's will too. It's not a good idea to slight Tywin Lannister, everyone knows what he did with the Reyne's and Tarbeck's after all."
They all went silent at this as they let the truth of her words sink in. Regretfully, neither Jon nor Robb took that part into consideration.
"Sansa. When you go south, you will not tell anyone about Jon. Do you understand?"
She opened her mouth to say something, but with the stern glare Eddard was giving her, she closed her mouth before nodding. This calmed him somewhat because as much as Sansa undermined his claim and had treated him as an outsider for most of his life, she was blood, a part of the pack. He was just as much Stark as he was Targaryen.
"If Robert finds out about Jon, he will proclaim war. He will stop at nothing until Targaryen's are dead- "
"But wasn't his grandmother a Targaryen? Which means he is also part Targaryen?"
Bran's confused question broke the tense atmosphere and lifted their spirits slightly.
"Aye, she was. Rhaelle married Ormund Baratheon. She herself was half Blackwood therefore part Northern. Which as horrible as it sounds, makes Robert a kinslayer. He himself is part Targaryen, which means he is cousin to Targaryen's. It's how he was able to make a claim for the throne. Jon wouldn't be born for another few weeks, and Rhaella escaped with Viserys which meant there were no other viable candidates than himself, Stannis, and Renly. Since he is the eldest though, this gave him the claim."
Now, Jon felt sick to his stomach. With his newfound anger he had developed over the King and how he had acted, he'd never stopped to consider the familial link between the two. Rhaelle was sister to King Jaehaerys and Queen Shaera, who were parents to King Aerys and Queen Rhaella, who were Jon's grandparents. It meant his paternal grandparents and Robert's parents were first cousins, which meant he himself was a cousin removed to Daenerys, Viserys, and Rhaegar. Yes, the link was very minimal and would be overlooked by most, but he still shared blood with the man.
"So, not only did he murder my father because he refused to accept my mother didn't want to marry him, he also murdered someone of his own blood."
The silence that followed was all that was needed to confirm his thought process. Gods, this whole thing was a mess. Kinslaying was a sin in the eyes of the Seven and the Old Gods, and southerners openly followed the Seven for thousands of years. How did he get away with it all without being shamed in their eyes? Clearly there was a lot more to the picture than had been let on.
"Anyway, the feast will be starting soon so we had better head down to avoid both the King's and Queen's wraths. Jon- "
He simply nodded at his aunt's words. He knew to keep up the act he couldn't go. Not that he minded much on that though, as it meant he could get in some practise. He could now write somewhat comfortably with his left hand, but it still felt unnatural to him. But if he wanted to learn to fight like this, he would need to train his left hand. He could always ask Arya to help him out considering it was her dominant hand, but he had no idea how that would go down. It was a miracle that Catelyn hadn't found the dagger Robb had gotten her yet. Once he was back in his solar, he suddenly remembered just how at ease she was with Dark Sister, despite it being way too big for her short stature. He grabbed a sketchbook and designed something that would be suitable for her stature that had a similar look to his own sword. No, he wouldn't be able to get her one that was Valyrian steel considering no one alive knew how to make it, but he wanted to do something for her.
Once he had done this, he made his way down into the courtyard and stopping by the forge inside the castle. He got along with Mikken as he was one of a handful of people who didn't treat him differently due to his bastard status. The smith looked over the design and simply nodded in confirmation he would do it. Even saying he wouldn't take anything for it as he was having it made for Arya's upcoming name-day. With a simple nod from the younger, he made his way to the armoury to pick up a sword. Yes, both he and Robb were using live steel now to train, but he didn't want to cause anything by using such with both hands. He picked up two blunted tourney swords that seemed to be similar in shape to Dark Sister, despite the balance being completely different as Valyrian Steel was known to be incredibly lightweight.
Once he was at the targets, he spun the swords around a few times to get the hang of the heavier weight of them, glad he had been training his muscles recently. He chanced a few curious swings to get a better feel before beginning his assault. With his right hand, he was striking clear and deadly if it were a real person he was up against. With his left, he was striking but it was clear they were clumsy strikes. His uncle was trying to hire someone who was well-versed in dual swords to teach him considering Ser Rodrik hadn't done so in over a decade apparently. As time went on, the swings became more precise but still nowhere near as much as the other. He was broken out of his silence by hearing footsteps behind him. He spun around on his feet to be met with someone short who was obviously drunk, but beside him was someone he idolised. Ser Barristan.
"Not enjoying the feast then are you, bastard?"
Jon ignored the last word and let a small grimace onto his face to continue the play of it bothering him.
"The Lady thought it would be insulting to have the bastard in their midst."
Tyrion Lannister let out a short bellowing laugh which was followed by a loud belch, clearly grossing out the knight in the process. It was hard not to smirk at this, Kingsguard were always known for being stoic.
"Looks like we might get along then."
"What do you know about being a bastard? You're a Lannister of Casterly Rock and brother to the Queen."
The words escaped before he could stop them, and he turned away embarrassed at what he had implicated. He could not give anything away.
"Nay, I'm not a bastard, but I am a dwarf. And all dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes. Let me give you some advice, never forget what you are because no one else will. Wear it as armour, then it can never hurt you."
With that, the Imp limped away leaving him with Ser Barristan Selmy. He was dumbfounded as the dwarf's words sunk in, the truth of them feeling very much like a knife against his gut. He had something in common. Jon had a name and he was treated as a bastard, And Tyrion had a name and he was also treated as one. The last thing he wanted was to have something in common with Lannister's of all people considering they were bound to the Baratheon's through marriage.
"Two swords? You don't see that so often."
The younger had the grace to look down to his feet, knowing it was considered an insult to look someone of high rank in the eye when they were baseborn. The fact that he was speaking to Barristan the Bold was making it difficult to not let his excitement bubble over. If Robb were here he would probably be bowing at the Knight's feet. Bran would be peppering numerous questions at him and he suspected Arya would act the same as her younger brother as well.
"Two longswords? I would've pictured you more with bastard swords due to your stature- "
"I prefer speed when sparring, I find longswords are better for this. Better reach, and lightweight making the method simpler."
The Knight was impressed to put it lightly, the boy knew his preferred style already. Not many people relied on speed when it came to swordsmanship, and especially not with dual swords. He looked him over and his eyes landed on the shift of his eyes. If he wasn't going crazy, he could've sworn they had shifted to lilac for a moment, an eye colour reminding him of Princess Rhaenys. However, they were soon back to grey that was common with the Stark's. He walked away now which caused Jon to deflate as he wanted to have a conversation with him, despite how risky it was. Ser Barristan was a close friend of Rhaegar, he may recognise the Prince in him.
Ser Barristan found his way towards the armoury to also collect a tourney sword. He was tasked by the King and Queen to keep an eye on Tyrion who had now relocated to the nearby barn if the snores were anything to go by. Which meant he now had some time to himself, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. He'd heard swinging metal cutting through the air, his sensitive ears picking up someone was practising alone. He had expected to see one of the lesser Knights or maybe even a guard, he hadn't expected to come face to face with Ned Stark's infamous bastard son Jon Snow. No one ever thought the Lord would be the one to come forward about fathering a bastard, but the man was also known to never lie- so nobody ever questioned the claim. Soon, he walked over to the boy again and eyed him from behind, something stirring deep inside of him. He couldn't hide the gut feeling that he was missing something big, and gods be damned if he weren't going to find it out.
"Care to put your skills to the test, boy?"
Jon jumped a little before turning to face the Knight, his eyes wide at the request. It was rare Barristan asked for someone to spar with him, it being known he only ever did so if he saw promise in someone. The younger nodded meekly, it being clear he wasn't sure if he was pushing above his station. Not that the elderly Knight minded, it was common for bastards to be raised to Knighthood or in some cases even to Goldcloaks or Kingsguard if they were good enough. Yes, they had to work harder for it, but it wasn't impossible. The boy placed down one of his swords to focus on just the one which made the older quirk an eyebrow up in response. Was the boy only just learning to wield two? If so, he was impressive to say the least.
The boy was clearly waiting on him to make the first move, and he chanced an awkward angle towards his midsection. The boy pivoted quickly and parried the attack with force, breaking out a smile on Barristan. Not many people reacted as quickly as that. Yes, this boy held a lot of promise. He went a little slower to how he usually would, each time Jon deflecting them like he knew what was coming before he had made the swing previously. Clearly a complete natural at swordsmanship. It reminded him of... No, he wasn't going to think about it. He didn't want to be reminded of his failure to the Prince. Before he knew it, he was back to his regular pace with the younger who was only now just beginning to show signs of ailment as he wasn't quite as precise with the Bold, but he held his own. But he wasn't going to win, so to soften the blow Barristan delivered what would've been a killing blow if the sword wasn't blunted.
"You're good."
Jon smiled and let the blush come onto his face. He never expected he would be praised by someone as well-known as Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard. He looked up to face him and again his eyes seemed to flash from grey to lilac. Now that he was looking at the boy, the feeling ebbed deeper inside of him. There was no denying Jon Snow reminded him of Rhaegar Targaryen, even his facial structure reminding him of the Prince. Only difference was the Prince's eyes were indigo, but Rhaenys had lilac eyes as well which she had inherited through Rhaella.
"Meet you here tomorrow, boy."
With that, Ser Barristan walked back to the armoury to put the sword away before taking position near where Tyrion had fallen asleep in his drunken stupor as was ordered of him. Jon stayed out to practise for a little while longer but his muscles were now cramping terribly at the speed he was challenged with from the Knight. He was comfortably beating Ser Rodrik constantly now, but he was not the Bold. It was said he had gotten the moniker after challenging someone to a dual when he was ten name-days old. It was only now he seemed to realise how dark it had gotten as he made his way inside to his room, locking the door behind him immediately.
The fire the eggs were placed on had long since burnt out, and he picked them up. The more days that passed, the stronger the movements were. And he was also beginning to feel a strong pull to Rhaegon. Jon knew that if they hatched, this would be the one he would ride. Dragons only ever allowed one person to ride them, and this bond never broke until the rider died. What would they look like when they hatched? He'd read in a book they took on the colours of their eggs. Would Lyrax be completely blue with grey wings? Would Rhaegon be totally silver with red and black spots? He would find out one day, and he would avenge his family.
And if this meant taking back what was rightfully his, then so be it.
Jon woke up early the next day, immediately igniting a fire to place the eggs back on. When he had first done this, he had been scared to do so in case he burnt himself, but he never did. He could feel how hot the flames were against his exposed skin, but it was like a summer warmth to him as opposed to scorching hot fire. Not that he was going to chance walking through a fire because that would be stupid on another level. That was a one-way ticket to being labelled both insane and outing himself. It's too dangerous for him to do so currently. If he's going to claim what was taken from him, he needs to plan it out perfectly and needs to strike at the perfect time. A knocking on the door broke him from his thoughts as he finished getting dressed to be met by Bran this time.
"Mother and father have requested you, Robb, and Sansa to a meeting."
Jon frowned a little at this but he wasn't going to question it. Deep down, he knew his uncle had accepted the proposal for Sansa. It was too high of a risk not to in case it ignited another war as Robert would no doubt take insult to a refusal. His younger cousin peeked his head in to eye the eggs much like Robb had done, the older rolling his eyes that he must've either spoken or Bran had been hiding. Knowing Bran, it was likely the second option. The boy knew Winterfell better than anyone in the castle with how often he claimed the massive walls that encased it. No amount of warnings from Catelyn stopped him from doing so, but somehow he never fell. It was like he was a monkey, yet as quiet as a cat.
"Jon, sit down."
He did so beside Robb immediately who was looking to him strangely. Sansa on the other hand was wearing a smile that would've split her face in half, confirming his suspicions. Only one thing would make her wear an expression as such.
"What's this I'm hearing about you sparring with Ser Barristan last night?"
Robb's eyes widened at this before looking to his cousin in a mixture of shock and anger. The latter being because he hadn't told him. He looked down to the table for a moment before eyeing his uncle directly in the eye.
"He was asked by Queen Cersei to keep an eye on Lord Tyrion as she refused him entrance to the feast in fear of insult. I was outside practising and he asked me a few questions. He walked away after this and came back with a tourney sword and challenged me. I couldn't say no to a Kingsguard. And before you ask, no, I was not practising with Dark Sister. I was using tourney swords."
Eddard looked thoughtful as he took in his words. An hour prior, Ser Barristan had turned up in his solar and asked about the boy. Stating he saw a lot of potential in him and to wonder if he had ever considered squiring for someone. Ned knew he had, but it would be dodgy. The Knight was close to Rhaegar, he may recognise him. In fact, he suspected he was figuring it out already as he spoke about how much he had failed the Prince and he didn't want to fail again. Had the man gotten a look at Jon's eyes? Had he had time to examine his facial features?
"I asked you because he came by my solar not long ago, nephew. He wants to take you on as a squire."
Now, his eyes widened massively as he took in those words. The man was legendary, and he wanted to take on him? Yes, Jon is a Prince in hiding, but he didn't know that. Then the repercussions came into mind. If he accepts, he will have to uproot from Winterfell and go down to Kings Landing with him. He would come face to face with the King on multiple occasions, and he would be separated from his family. Well, not from Sansa or his uncle as they would be going as well. But leaving Robb? Leaving Arya? Bran and Rickon? Leave the one place he's called home even though it didn't feel like that for a long time for him. To go to the place where his grandfather killed his other grandfather and in turn strangling his uncle, where Jaime Lannister killed his grandfather, and where his siblings were murdered solely because of their name?
"He's going to allow you a few days to think on it. We will be leaving for Kings Landing in a week. I'm going, Sansa is going, as is Arya. Robb will be acting Lord of Winterfell in my absence, and the other two are a little young to be travelling so far. Jory Cassel, Vayon Poole, and Jeyne Poole will also be accompanying us."
Some of his hesitance disappeared as he heard Arya would be going too. It meant he would be able to keep an eye on Sansa as he had a bad feeling about Prince Joffrey, something Arya noticed too. There was a reason he was closest to Robb and Arya. One because she looked just like him whereas her siblings took mostly after their mother, and one because they were born days apart and raised since they were a couple of months old.
"It's incredibly risky if I do go, but if I do, I can help keep an eye on the girls. I can only imagine how busy you'll be uncle with Robert's business whilst he does whatever he does."
He wanted to put it blank that he would just be fucking whores, eating, drinking, and hunting, but he knew his aunt detested cursing, and he didn't want to dishonour himself in front of her. He'd been at the end of her frosty looks for way too long now. Both sunk into silence as they thought on this, and it was clear that Lord Eddard was struggling with the fact he will barely be around his daughters when he goes. You can only either thrive in Kings Landing or have a life not far from death.
"And say theoretically, Ser Barristan did figure out the truth, do you think he would betray me to Robert?"
Robb was looking to him in surprise, shocked that his cousin was even considering this. Yes, the opportunity was fantastic, but it is as he put it- incredibly risky. Most of Rhaegar's supporters were executed or sent to the wall, but members of the Kingsguard who were all close to the Prince were pardoned if they swore fealty. There's Ser Jaime, and there's Ser Barristan, how many more are there? All of which were pardoned and due to their oaths, they had no choice but to follow them with Robert Baratheon. How would they react to a trueborn Targaryen heir? One that no one knew about apart from them and Howland Reed?
"Ser Barristan has always said Rhaegar was the finest man he ever knew. A little hot-headed, but always had people's interests to heart. If he ever did figure it out, I honestly believe he would keep the secret his brothers died protecting. As for Ser Jaime, I highly doubt he would go back on his oaths again, but I don't know if he would betray Tywin by keeping that a secret either. Anyone in their right mind would do all they could to not insult Tywin Lannister of all people."
It was Catelyn who spoke those words and deep down, everyone knew them to be true. But this didn't mean Jon was going to accept. Perhaps he could try to find a way to weave in some questions to the Knight he had impressed with his skills so much he had been asked to squire for him. Try to fish out where his true loyalties lie and decide from there if he could trust the man. Then again, he had served under King Aerys, which wasn't exactly something to brag about. Even now, sixteen years later, the things his grandfather had done still had a profound effect on everything.
"There are a few days to think on it, are you ready Robb?"
The older nodded and followed his father out the room. Robert had asked them to go on one of his famed hunting trips. How Robert could even do so was almost admirable, he had saw just how drunk the King was the night prior. Catelyn whisked both her and Sansa away for some alone time which left him to his devices. He didn't want to go out into the open and practise again in case he brought any further attention to himself, he'd done enough of that already with one person. Someone he would be versing again later in the day; it would be stupid of him to refuse a Kingsguard request. Instead, he took to wandering around the castle. Trying to find some of the crevices Bran always spoke about but he never could. He doubted his little cousin was lying about them, but he wondered if he'd maybe not said where they actually were. He knew Arya was aware of some of them, he'd witnessed her head peek out of some of them to watch them all sparring and shooting too many times to count. It was deadly still outside though, the hustle and bustle seemingly vanished as most of the guards had gone with the King. But where was the Queen? She didn't seem to be the kind of person to go on a hunting trip. Perhaps she was acquainting herself with the wall of Winterfell like he was.
He noticed Bran running atop the walls but before he could yell at him to get down, he was already away to another part of the castle. When his wolf had made an appearance, he had no idea. Ghost never made a sound unless it was playful yaps or growling, but this was incredibly rare. The loud ones were Grey Wind, Nymeria, and Shaggydog. But Ghost, Summer, and Lady barely ever made a peep. A good hour must've passed of this simple wandering, but he paused when he noticed his wolf quirk an ear up and make a panicked whimper. Something wasn't right. Ghost took off in a run which Jon followed only to come to the broken tower. It was only used for storage, so what was happening here? Hesitantly, he walked closer and then he noticed Summer sitting at the bottom staring up towards the window.
Was Bran stuck and Ghost sensed it? He stood a little bit away so he wouldn't be seen in case something else was happening, and he noticed Bran clutched to the outside of the topmost window of the tower, a solid seventy feet drop. He'd seen him up much higher than this before, but why wasn't he moving? One moment he watched as his little cousin was at the window, a blink later and he was falling. Jon saw a flash of what appeared to be another person by the window, but due to the height he couldn't make out who it was or even if it was someone. Before he knew it, he was running. Faster than he ever had as he watched Bran fall. However, he found out the hard way that he wasn't close enough nor was he fast enough a runner. He called out the younger boy's name but it was drowned out by the scream that came from Bran. The sound as his body contacted the ground was nothing short of sickening. He had landed directly on his back, and from the few metres away Jon was, he could hear numerous bones snapping upon impact.