Jon

"The gold should already be in my hands by now," Jon stated, still holding his hand without looking down at the Lannister.

Tyrion just sipped his goblet, eyes patient.

Jon dropped his hand and sighed. "I'm sorry to be so frank with you. I'm just really hoping the trip was not a mistake." A lot of what he did in the past had some flaws in it this was no exception. The pain will be easier to handle if he had something to gain from it. Jon scratched his back, absently feeling the man-made scar.

"Don't worry," Tyrion assured. "Your income is guaranteed. Two bags, filled with a shit ton of gold, sits in my tent at this moment."

"Should be three."

"Done. One of my most trusted men will help you carry them. It's quite heavy."

"You trust this person?"

Tyrion hummed, his cup hand moving in a slow-moving rotation. "I will say yes, except when it comes to his brother. He never stops telling me that he will one day slay him."

"Is his brother here? In this castle?" Jon asked. From what knows, one of the brothers hated the other, but he has no telling that the brother in question returns those feelings.

Tyrion caught on his line of thought. "Yes, but under heavy supervision by my uncle Kevan and his men. This is not going to be enough, however."

"You don't think it's going to work because of the melee," Jon said. "You fear that the brothers will deliberately face each other in a battle to kill." It was as simple as that.

"It's turning out that way," Tyrion answered, taking another sip. "It is rather curious that my father allowed the man to come to this tourney. He is very aware of the bad blood between the brothers."

"It seems that your father did that on purpose. You did say he is an ass," Jon said bluntly.

Tyrion nodded and looked at his cup in a sort of disappointment type of curiosity because the goblet was now empty of its contents. "Very much of an ass. Very much…"

"If I may ask, who is the man that you trust?"

"Sandor Clegane, or what others call him 'the hound'" Tyrion said in a snort.

"What was that for?" Jon asked, referring to his snorting.

"I find it funny that people call him the 'hound' when his brother should be the one with it. The 'mountain' can barely complete a few sentences and he is a mindless animal that craves nothing but violence," Tyrion said in disgust. "At least with Sandor, he has a brain and uses it."

"Ok. That's all that I need to know," Jon said. He would use this information later to ensure that his cousins will not be anywhere near the Clegane brawl. If the brothers were to fight let them fight. It was no one's right to be in the middle of their problems.

Tyrion gave him a sharp glance. "Does it interest you to know why they loathe the other when they are siblings?"

"Not really," Jon replied. "It's not my problem. No need to be in this." He eyed the dwarf with a frown. "You want me to know don't you?"

"Ahh, you got me," Tyrion said smiling, zero shame on his face. "It's a short story that is not meant for ladies that prefer stories that are made of flowers and gallant knights in shiny armor."

Jon's mind flashed to Sansa before he washed it away and looked at Tyrion. "Ok, go on." If this story can interest Tyrion then it could interest him as well.

"Don't let Sandor know about this," Tyrion warned.

"I'm not scared of him," Jon replied, casting off the warning like a spell.

"I knew you were going to say that." Tyrion coughed to clear his throat and started to tell.

"Poor fucker," Jon breathed out after the story was done. "No wonder why Sandor wants the fucker dead," He said to himself before glancing at Tyrion. "I wasn't about to do anything anyway, but I can tell you myself that I would not get between your friend's vengeance. The mountain deserves a far better death than a swift one after he maimed his brother over a simple trinket."

"I want to ask you a favor as well," Tyrion said seriously.

"Favors, favors…" Jon muttered to himself. For someone who is a bastard, I get an unusually high amount of favors.

"What do you require of me?" Jon asked. His voice was tight like how he was when given an assignment in the Golden Company. He never managed to get rid of it.

"This isn't a favor for me it's for Sandor. When he faces his brother don't let anyone interfere."

"Anyone?"

"If it comes down to it."

"Even the kingsgaurd?"

"Anyone."

"I'll give you a fourth bag," Tyrion added.

"The things I do for gold," Jon joked to himself before nodding. "I accept. He deserves this," he added more seriously.

Tyrion finally smiled. "Jon, I knew I can count on you. Sandor can now rest now that you are the one backing him up."

"Thank you for flattering me," Jon said, his voice dry as the sand in Dorne.

"Thank you for all the help you gave me," Tyrion answered back. "I will have Sandor deliver your gold to your tent in the morn."

Jon nodded.

Tyrion eyed the halls and spoke offhandedly. "If the people in the hall knew what you are capable of they would fatter you as well."

"They certainly will," Jon replied with ease.

"And make them believe that you are not a bad person."

"Sorry, Tyrion, but I don't have to do shit for these people," Jon said without a care. "I don't care."

Tyrion chuckled. "They are bootlickers for sure, my friend. Don't let them get under your skin."

"The southerners are not going to get under my skin."

Tyrion's face turned worried. "I'm just…concerned about you. All these stress is taking a toll on you."

"I know," Jon said low. He can't even deny it.

"I saw how you stormed out. What got to you?"

Jon didn't want to think about it and, so he didn't reply.

Luckily or unluckily for him, Tyrion found his outlet. "The Targaryens."

"Aye."

Jon brought himself back to earth and straightened his back, a steely look in his lilac eyes. "I can't do anything about it, so let us not waste our time doing so."

"Jo-" Tyrion's words died as Jon turned his hard gaze to him. He stood with his arms pressed tightly to his sides, not allowing any emotion to show on his face.

"Alright then!" Tyrion became cheery and turned around. "I don't know about you, but I'm going back to the feast for more wine. I'll see you then." His form disappeared as he turned the corner.

Jon silently mused. The place where he contemplated seemed like a decent fit for him. Silent, empty and all alone…

He shut down his troubles and walked back to the feast. The doors were wide open for him and the feast was still going. Robb and Arya jumped as he flopped into the seat and started casually started pilling food on his plate.

"You cooled off now?" Robb asked with Arya looking on.

Am I really? Jon mulled over the question and smiled at them. "Yes. kind of."

Jon didn't even last two minutes into his meal when he felt he was being watched again.

Jon has been stuck in place again as brown eyes met his own eyes. The princess was still in the same pose and her eyes still on him. It was different from the stares everyone was handed to him for free because it was strange and different. It was a far cry from what Jon was used to. It didn't show fear or animosity or even the superiority of her rank. It was completely unreadable and Jon had a hard time trying to interpret her gaze.

"What are you staring at?" Arya asked as she chewed, her mouth spitting bits of chicken on the table.

The few people next to them eyed the food on the table and sniggered. Robb licked his fingers and cleaned the mess with a cloth. "Don't chew with your mouth open, Arya," Robb said in exasperation.

"Shut up," Arya snapped back and going back to stare at Jon.

Robb followed his line of sight and grinned. "It seems the dragon princess is eyeing our wolf, sister."

"What!?" Arya asked too loudly, getting high in her seat as she tried to get a clear shot of the princess.

"Sit down," Jon said as he hooked his arm on her shoulder and pushed her back to her bottom. Arya glared at him, though she still tried to see the princess over his head.

Robb glanced at the dark-skinned princess and back to him with a familiar teasing smile on his face. Jon muttered and paid his food with his utmost attention as he mentally willed his cousin to leave him alone. For god's sake Robb, please shut your mouth.

His efforts were fruitless.

Robb scooted closer to him and touched his shoulders with his. Arya seized upon this opportunity and scooted closer as well. Fortunately for Jon, there was a distraction at the perfect time.

"Robb Stark!" A sleek voice said in front of them. The man stopped to place his hands on the table, completely carefree in Jon's presence. He was tall and he stood proud. He wore a loose yellow garment and his eyes were dark and sharp with knowledge.

Jon can feel the confidence ooze from this man and he was instantly on guard. Right now the man didn't spare him a glance, but how long can that last…

Robb smiled, his face stretching across his pale face. He grasped the man's hand and shook it."Good to meet you, my lord. It pleases me that you are aware of my name, and thus it's only proper that I get to know yours as well."

"My name is Oberyn Martell," His voice had the common drawl of the dornish folk. Jon can now confirm that this man was indeed the red viper of Dorne.

"What do you need?" Robb asked politely, and Jon could tell his cousin is alert like he was.

"I require something." The response was cryptic and dangerous at the same time. The northern table watched them and Jon saw the dornish table watching too.

"And that is?"

"Not from you but from him," Oberyn announced, pointing at Jon. "I need something from you."

I knew it. Whether he was a bastard or not, someone wanted something from him in the long run. The cycle continues.

The laughs stopped and so did the talking. He can feel the eyes peering them. Jon could feel one particular gaze sharpening and he resisted the impulse to glance at the high table.

"And that is, my lord?" Jon said calmly, repeating what Robb said a minute ago.

"A duel," Oberyn answered, dark eyes flashing.

Through the tables, people eyes widen and the talks spread. The air was quiet as everyone fell silent to hear.

"With you?" Robb asked, incredulously.

"No, with me," Someone said from one of the dornish tables. The man stood from the table and grinned at them, the smile full of arrogance. His silver hair was divided by a streak of black and his purple eyes were as threatening as they were dangerous, hinting what he can do. He was dressed nicely in a black garment and his face held a sneer as he looked at Jon.

"Who the fuck are you?" Jon asked, loose tongue. In truth, he was tired by now, and he didn't want to be bothered. He was starting to get a headache.

The dornish folk's face twisted with anger and someone yelled, "Show some respect bastard! This is ser Gerold Dayne! The Darkstar!"

Gerold actually looked proud, and the table of dorne looked smugly at Jon. Their smugness was broken in the most unexpected possible.

By Laughter.

Jon chuckled and chuckled, and soon his chuckles began to turn to laughter. Shocked eyes looked to each other in confusion and they became wary.

"Jon?" Arya's asked quietly, poking Jon's side as if he was ill in the head. Robb had the same look as he licked his lips, puzzled.

Darkstar seemed rattled, but he shook his head and demanded, "What are you laughing at bastard?"

"I am sorry, my Lord," Jon said, his face placid but his purple eyes were laughing. "Though I am laughing at you."

Darkstar snarled. "And for what reason bastard?" His tone was mocking and angry. In that effect, it made Jon angry as well.

"Your name," Jon answered coldly. This is going to get him in a lot of damn trouble. He is basically walking on thin ice right now. But he is tired of their shit and just wants to get this feast over with so he can go back to bed. He shouldn't be going back and forth with someone with a high status however, he couldn't find anything in himself to care.

Darkstar's smile was dark like he figured out something. "My name? Mine is fine unlike yours." He put his left arm and his other and tapped his finger on his lips in thoughtful action. "And what's yours? Oh right, you're a bastard. So its Snow."

The dornish were back to being smug as the hall laughed. Robb stared at his hard face. "Jon…" He warned, very silent and urging.

"Darkstar," He said, catching back the attention. Jon looked into Darkstar's cruel eyes and he freed himself. "The stars aren't dark, you stupid fuck." His voice was cool just like his face.

The cause and effect was immediate.

The dornish stood from their table and glared at them, fist shaking. The northern table stood as well to Jon's defense and curses flew in the great hall.

Just as it seemed like the argument was going to be a brawl, Aegon stood up and sharply clapped his hands. "Stop this! There is no fighting that's going to happen in this hall!"

Aegon stared at the fuming tables until they complied. His purple eyes turned to Jon and he said, "You should learn your place. You cannot be arguing with the highborn."

"Yes, my prince," Jon said, completely composed.

Darkstar grinned until Aegon turned to him as well. "And you need to stop arguing with a lowborn, and actually pretend that you're civilized."

Darkstar glared at the prince, but he answered anyway. "Yes, my prince."

Aegon stood to the people's wonder. He grinned as he looked to Jon and Darkstar, eyes excited. "I will not accept a pointless squabble but…I will accept a duel in this very hall!"

The tables began to get restless with energy and the hype is legitimate. Jon frowned, rubbing his beard. The proposal intrigued him. However…

"Someone with a status like him," Rhaenys spoke, her voice sweet and people leaned in to hear her, "Cannot harm a lord unless it is a tourney," She explained, her eyes never straying from Jon.

Everyone nodded and their hype was ended. People sat back into their seats looking displeased. Jon could see the disappointment in their eyes.

"I lift the law," Aegon simply said to the excitement of many . He snapped his fingers and the servants carrying tourney swords and amour swept in the hall and stopped in the corners of the hall.

Was this planned or spontaneous? Jon had a feeling if Darkstar didn't challenge him the prince would've challenged him himself. The evidence was right in his face.

"Do you accept?" Aegon asked.

"I do, my prince," Darkstar replied smiling, a predatory gleam in his purple eyes.

Eyes landed on Jon's face, anxious for his answer. Arya grinned at Darkstar and looked at him confidently. "Fight him, Jon!"

This could expose my fighting style…Jon pondered to himself. From everybody else, the melee would start when the king and the queen arrives. Exposing the way he fights so early can harm him in the actual competition. On the other side, he wants to lay the cocky Darkstar on his ass.

Fist thumped on the table in a tempo as the hall chanted. Jon looked at his cousin to see what he thought only to see Robb's face was emotionless and so were his eyes.

"Spar!"

"Spar!"

"Spar!"

Jon's eyes met the princess's dark ones and he felt motivated. His worries washed away and he felt his boy burn.

He looked up to Aegon. "I accept."

Aegon boyishly grinned. "Good man!"

Tables were pushed to the side and the crowd circled Jon and Darkstar, who was being helped to put on their armor.

Robb finished putting on the last strap, and he slapped his armored shoulder. "You better win this, Jon."

Arya glared at her brother. "Of course he is going to win, stupid."

"He is the most dangerous man in Dorne," Robb said with a bit of worry as he looked across to Darkstar and back to Jon.

Jon closed his helmet visor and rolled his shoulders. "And I am the most dangerous man in the north."

He and Darkstar walked to the middle and stared each other down. From the high table, Aegon watched and finally, he clapped. "Begin!"

Darkstar was the first to move and aimed for his neck and he growled when Jon parried and struck his leg. Darkstar grimaced and attacked again, swinging his sword with grace. Jon met blow for blow and parried strike for a strike all the while targeting his foes left leg.

Jon and Darkstar clashed and clashed in the dance…with Jon leading it. More than once, Jon forced Darkstar to be in the inside with him hitting his blindside.

They spun and crashed their swords together and they challenged the other with their eyes as they tested whose strength is stronger. Jon used his free leg to kick Gerold in the left leg and Darkstar retreated with a hiss but engaged him again.

Jon was too slow to recover after missing his slice and he was punished. Darkstar hit him in the chest, then his right arm and elbowed him on his visor.

Jon stepped back and shook his head and scolded himself for his blunder. The two got back into their respective stance and circled the other.

Jon feinted as he threw his sword to his left hand and sliced downward. Darkstar was taken by surprise at his switch up and hastily parried the blow and shifted on his feet.

From there, Jon ever so often switched his fighting arm, using every angle possible to catch Gerold off guard. Just as Darkstar got used to him using his left arm, Jon swapped. It was an exotic movement that he knew Darkstar never faced before.

Darkstar was an offensive opponent. Therefore, Jon spent his time dancing around him to tire him out, and to make him more sluggish with his swings.

Darkstar was now a sweating mess. His face was covered by his sweat that fell to his eyes.

"You're just a bastard," Darkstar said in a trance as he tried to break Jon's defense, eyes blinking from the amount of his sweat. "You're just a bastard."

Jon didn't answer and continued pushing his blows aside. Gerold's next strike was sluggish and Jon caught his wrist mid-swing and smashed his helmet against his. A few people grimaced at the sound as Darkstar backpedaled, fighting to be on his feet.

Jon was now on the offensive. Darkstar was not suited for defense and was therefore weak against Jon's onslaught. Using a combination of punches and slices, he was able to slip by his guard.

Jon did what he wished with him.

Darkstar couldn't even raise his sword up for any masquerade of a defense. Darkstar could only stumble as Jon landed blow after blow on his chest plate.

"Your just…a bastard," Darkstar gasped out, his head turning to the side from another strike. "Just…a bastard."

This only made Jon strike harder.

He threw his sword to the ground and grabbed Darkstar's helmet. He forcibly connected his head with his knee and kicked him in his chest. Jon caught him from falling and kneed him in the chest four times before elbowing him again and letting him fall to the ground. Jon can feel his blood rushing and his arms quivering with the urge to finish his enemy. His dark mood was put to halt as Darkstar coughed loudly and started choking.

"Just a bastard…just a bastard," Darkstar uttered throatily. He seemed to be struggling to breathe as he gasped for breath and was shaking.

"That's enough! Snow is the victor!" Aegon said in a hurry. "Someone get the man out of his amour and get a maester!"

Nobody seemed to move as the shock was too real and the prince snapped. "Someone get moving!"

One of the servants snapped out of their stupor and moved down to the fallen Gerold. The other servants followed his lead and sought out to help him remove the armor.

The sounds in the hall were next to none, as Jon was eyed with fear and a hint of amazement and…a little of newfound respect.

Lord Umber stood up, raising his cup. "That man is the white wolf!"

"He is the white wolf!" The northern tables replied back in a strong shout. The other tables didn't share the shout, because they were too busy staring at Jon and the shaking Darkstar.

Jon breathed through his nostrils and looked at the princess. Rhaenys tilted her head in her hand and gazed at him with a soft smirk. This time, her eyes were not so guarded and Jon can now comprehend what's inside when she is staring at him.

Lust.

Jon would be totally lying if he said that he didn't feel the same. What the fuck, Jon? She is your sister!

Jon dropped his sword to the ground and left the hall. As he was leaving, he only half realized that he was still wearing the armor.

Robb

"Oh, gods…" He muttered as Darkstar was fully rid of his armor and carried out of the hall. The table nodded at his words and stared after the shaking Gerold. Darkstar could only mutter as a response before he disappeared from the hall.

"The most dangerous man in dorne," Arya snorted in her cup.

Robb shushed her. "Don't let them hear you," He warned her as he glanced to the angry dornish table.

"This…was unexpected," A short lady said. She was dark skinned with a large bosom and thick legs.

"He agreed to the spar, cousin," Aegon responded to the lady. "Anything can happen."

"Gerold got what was coming to him, cousin," The princess said, her cheek still in her palm. "He is too confident for his own good and look what Snow did to him. I wonder if he will be traumatized for life after this."

Robb found himself laughing with the others at her jab. It was unquestionably cruel to be laughing, though the man deserved it. His table shared his opinion as the northern tables began to talk about the spar.

Aegon stood up and walked down from the high table. "I can safely say this must be the end of the night my friends. Let us retire and have the same energy for the morrow."

….

"Jon is going to win the tourney," Bran stated as the Starks headed for the camp.

"Nothing is for certain, Bran," Catelyn replied, she too was shocked.

"Did you not see what happened mother?" Arya asked, incredulous.

"There are a lot of knights that are going to have the same skill set, Arya," Sansa said.

"Moving one sword to the other hand back and forth is a skill set that I've never seen before," Alys said softly. "This means that he can wield two swords at the same time.

"That's nice," Rickon said in wonder, eyes shining brightly in the night.

"Wielding two swords," Arya muttered to herself. "Just like the rider,"

Oh shit.

"That's something I wish that I know how to do," Robb said awkwardly, trying to put the similar concepts in the back of his families head.

It was most effective as everyone teased Rob for his inability to best Jon with a sword, but his mother still looked uncertain. Catelyn didn't say a word to anyone for the entire walk to the camp, frowning as they talked.

Ned

"This is a problem," Luwin whispered.

"Aye, it is," Ned replied, his voice low as the maesters and everybody else's as none made too much of a noise to disturb the sleeping creature.

In the Godswood, the humongous form of the dragon sleeps. It was lying on the now broken down trees. The beast snoozed and the snow and the leaves blew in the air. As it was now dark, the dragon was nearly invisible due to its ebony texture.

Heads snapped to one direction as a branch snapped.

The dragon's eyes opened and a chilly emerald color stared at them all and a deep growl vibrated the ground that made snow fly in the air. The folks slowly stepped backward. The growling, however, didn't waver.

Ned's stomach dropped. "God's help us all…"