Jon had been enjoying his time at Winterfell. He had been here for two sennights by now and soon they would be heading over to the Wall where he would meet Maester Aemon with whom he had been corresponding for several years now.
Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell had accompanied Jon on this trip. They had let their beards and hair grow out and almost always wore helmets that left little visible of their faces. During meals in the great hall, they took up guard duty and ate in private afterwards. Nobody suspected that they were anything other than two loyal houseguards of Jon Celtigar, an insignificant lord of the Driftmark who had befriended the son of Lord Stark.
Ser Arthur hadn't appreciated being left behind but Ser Gerold had argued that Ser Arthur was the most recognisable of the three of them. They were taking enough risks at it was. Howland Reed, however, had placated Ser Arthur by telling him that the Gods had shown him in several green dreams that the knight's nephew Edric Dayne would someday be of great help to Jon. His premonitions had convinced him that Ser Arthur could inform his closest living relatives that he was alive if he took the necessary precautions.
Ser Arthur had not hesitated and had immediately invited the current lord of Starfall supposedly to meet a lord Velaryon of the Driftmark to discuss possible trade relations. He had picked a location halfway between Starfall and the Driftmark and in due time received the Lord's acceptance. A date in less than two moon's time had been agreed upon. Ser Arthur had let the party leave for Winterfell without complaining, a renewed spring in his steps.
To compensate for the knight they left behind, Ser Gerold had taken on an extra guard and that is how Jon had met Sandor Clegane. It had been an experience. It wasn't because of the burns, although at first, Jon had been self-conscious when he looked straight at Clegane's face. Clegane noticing this had just grumbled that they didn't fucking hurt any longer and Jon had been able to ignore the ugly scars soon after.
Jon was fascinated by the way Clegane talked and acted. Up until he met Clegane he had only met well-mannered knights who treated him with respect. Sandor Clegane was nothing like that. It seemed to Jon that no matter how much Clegane tried to reign in his coarse language while speaking with the twelve-year-old, he always fell back into his crude speech patterns. Sometimes, Jon could also overhear even less censured outburst during conversations between the adults. And although Sandor Clegane was not a very talkative guy, Jon had already learned more curse words in these last few moons than in his entire existence.
Perhaps was because Sandor Clegane was so different from everyone else, Jon had taken a liking to the tall man. Clegane didn't beat about the bush, he didn't sugarcoat. He said few words but they conveyed more pertinent information than the lengthy debates of the high Lords. He dared to call a lord or anyone for that matter out if they sprouted falsehood. As he phrased it himself 'he called their bullshit so they would stop winging'.
Jon had quickly realised that if you could see past his rough manners, Clegane was a guy you could rely on. Besides he was a formidable fighter. He would be a valuable addition to their group when they travelled to the Wall. Jon had heard that the journey might not be without dangers.
Sandor Clegane had arrived at the Driftmark while Jon was visiting his foster-grandmother. He had arrived together with Captain Davos Seaworth and a Dornish Prince. The Prince had left after a sennight but Davos Seaworth had stayed on and Jon had come to enjoy his company.
Davos, as Jon had been allowed to call him, reminded him a bit of Lord Stark if you considered the way he always had a pearl of wisdom to offer when Jon struggled with something. But where Lord Stark was formidable, Davos was an easy-going, warm-hearted person, who always stayed very humble. He acted more like an affectionate father toward Jon and Jon had been delighted upon learning that Davos would accompany their small party to Winterfell.
It had also been nice getting to know Robb's sisters and brother and observe how they were exactly as Robb had described them. Arya had become their little shadow. One time he and Robb had sneaked out of the castle trying to avoid her company for once but it hadn't taken much longer than the time it took to shoot ten arrows before she had discovered them in the small yard and had wanted to try it as well. Of course, her little arms hadn't been able to pull the string of the bow so Jon had helped her and with their combined effort they had hit the mark right in the centre before Robb had been able to do so. Apparently, by this little act, Jon had earned her undying loyalty.
Their lively company had distracted Jon from his grief over the loss of Max. The little dog had gotten ill shortly after they had started their journey north. Jon had felt slightly sick as well and after a bad night full of disturbing dreams, Jon had woken up next to the lifeless animal.
He had kept it together reminding himself of Lord Reed's promise. Moments before they had parted, Lord Reed had whispered the content of a premonition in his ear. Lord Reed had promised that Jon would find a worthy mate during his travels and would create a bond with him stronger than anything he had ever experienced with Max. He had also given him the cryptic comment 'to share when the time came'.
Being at Winterfell meant seeing Lord Eddard Stark again and he had of course also been introduced to his lady wife, Catelyn Stark. She seemed nice, be it a bit formal, always greeting him rather stiffly when he encountered her in the hallway or the great hall when he sat down for dinner. She always invited him to dine at the family table but he often excused himself murmuring a well-meant thank you and dined at the table where his entourage was seated. It was obvious that she didn't like that very much but for some reason did not force the issue.
She wasn't at ease in his company. Jon was almost at the end of his stay here and still, her behaviour was a combination of formal pride and apprehension. Somehow she seemed to go out of her way not to offend him. She enquired regularly if his room was adequate, if the food was to his liking, whether the servants saw to his needs timely and sufficiently, but always with a tense look on her face.
Jon took it all in stride. Overall, he enjoyed his time at Winterfell immensely.
The only low point of his visit thus far had been Theon Greyjoy. Jon had immediately sensed that the Kraken was jealous of the easy camaraderie that had grown between him and Robb these last moons and that the Ironborn tried everything to sow discord between the two of them. He told Robb that Jon was a nobody compared to them, Theon being a Prince of Pyke and Robb a future Warden of the North. Besides, Theon had declared, he was a year older and much more interesting than a spoiled brat from an obscure island.
Things had worsened when Robb had insisted on a joint sparring session. Theon hadn't been able to beat Robb but had tried to swallow his pride and had boasted that Robb just had a lucky day. Then he had proceeded to take Jon on but he had been livid when he had been disarmed in under ten strokes. For once Jon hadn't been in a mood to be considerate. His opponent had tried his patience incessantly these last few days.
Greyjoy had insisted upon a rematch and had charged at him before Jon had been warned to take up his starting position again. Jon had done the only thing possible to prevent himself from getting hurt and had tumbled sideways making a complete rotation that had him back on his feet instantly. Theon hadn't been able to stop his forward momentum and had hit the wall.
Ser Gerold who had been watching from the corner had hurried over to the boys ready to intervene but since Jon had saved himself the knight had directed all his frustration and anger at Theon. He had slapped the boy across the face, dragged him to the small storage space where the training equipment was kept and had locked him in there.
Theon had been sent to bed without dinner and had received a stern reprimand from Lord Stark the next morning. He had been given additional chores to limit his time with the boys and was made to apologise in full view of the household to Jon for his dishonourable conduct. After that awkward public confrontation, Jon did everything possible to avoid Theon. Jon didn't want to cause trouble for Lord Stark, besides Jon would leave in a few days. He didn't envy Robb who would have to share his home with the Kraken for several years.
But tonight Uncle Benjen would arrive before dinner. His 'uncle' would also accompany Jon on his trip to the Wall.
***
The next morning.
Jon was apprehensive. He knew something was going on. Last night during dinner Lord Stark had come up to the table where Jon had been talking animatedly with Uncle Benjen, Davos Seaworth and Sandor Clegane. Uncle Ned had invited Jon to attend him in his solar the next morning after breakfast. He had looked rather grim and very serious in doing so. Ever since that moment, Uncle Benjen acted tense and his two loyal knights couldn't look him in the eye. They had evaded his questions and had merely answered him to remain patient stating that Lord Stark certainly had a good reason to summon him. Only Davos and Clegane had kept acting normal.
Jon had not slept well and had dreamt that he was thrown out of the castle with only the clothes on his back. In his dream, he had set off alone, cold and hungry. In no time he had gotten lost in the woods. He had woken up drenched in sweat remembering the last part of his dream in which a pack of wolves had encircled him. He wasn't sure if they had threatened to attack him or if they had surrounded him for protection. At breakfast, he ate very little. Still subdued by the lingering memories of his nightmare, he couldn't help but worry about the reason behind the summons of Lord Stark.
As he entered the solar, he was surprised to see that Uncle Benjen was there as well. He immediately felt a bit better and sat down close to him, doing his best not to look too intimidated. "You asked me here, my Lord," he addressed Lord Stark respectfully.
"Yes, Jon. I would like to speak to you about your parents, your family." Lord Stark said with a weird sounding voice.
'Lord Stark was every bit as nervous as he was!' Jon threw a furtive glance at Uncle Benjen. The man was fidgeting in his seat. "My parents are long dead, Lord Stark. I do not understand." Their behaviour was scaring him.
"Yes, Jon, your parents are dead. The point is," Eddard Stark paused, to find the right words.
Uncle Benjen shifted his body sideways and took Jon's small hand in his. Jon, what we have to tell you will be difficult to hear. But know that we did not intend to disown you. Before you react to what we tell you, please know that I've loved you from the first day I laid eyes on you. I would have announced it to the entire world that we were family if it would not have put you in danger."
Uncle Benjen's eyes looked pleadingly into Jon's. For the first time, Jon realised their eyes were the same dark grey, Stark grey!
"I don't understand," Jon stammered totally of balance now. "Are you my father?" His gaze never wavered from his 'Uncle' Benjen's eyes. This was not what he had expected at all. He didn't know what to think.
"Jon, I am your uncle, your uncle by blood. Lord Stark is your uncle as well. You are the son of my sister Lyanna Stark." Benjen kept his voice as calm as possible and still held Jon's hand in his.
Jon looked at him sceptically."Your sister who looks like Arya and you missed so much when she died? I have Stark blood? Why would you not want to tell me that? I could have grown up with Robb at Winterfell. Oh, Robb and I are cousins! Does he know? -- Who knows? – Why didn't I know?" Jon was working himself into a frenzy.
"Please, Jon, listen," Uncle Benjen, apparently his uncle for real, pleaded with him. "Jon, for the love I hold for you, please listen to me and let me tell you the entire story first. There is a lot more to it. Promise me that you will hear us out and listen with an open mind. I know you are intelligent enough to consider all the angles and not only your perspective. Please, keep in mind that all these years we have always had your best interest in mind. My brother and I have always considered you family and it has hurt us terribly that we couldn't raise you ourselves. Please believe that above all else." Benjen Stark looked almost desperate.
Jon squeezed his hand reassuringly and tried to calm himself and his--uncle down. "I will try, Uncle." They gave each other a watery smile.
However, it was Lord Stark who cleared his throat and proceeded to tell him a short version of the story starting with the Rebellion, the slaughter of the royal children, finding their sister with a baby and finally revealing that Jon was a member of the Targaryen royal family and had a claim to the Iron Throne.
A long silence followed. Jon's mind was reeling. His uncles waited patiently for Jon to react. The boy released his uncle's hand, stood up and proceeded to walk up and down the small room. He did what they had asked and considered more than the implications to himself. When he had come to terms with what to ask first, he stopped pacing and regained the seat close to his actual Uncle Benjen.
"Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur?"
"Are your Kingsguard, sworn to protect you." Lord Stark completed Jon's sentence for him.
Another silence, then Jon spoke up again. "You were fighting against my father's armies during the Rebellion? Yet …," Jon hesitated to say more.
"The Rebellion was started over a lie." Uncle Benjen intervened softly. "Things would have been so different had the realm been told that Lady Lyanna of House Stark loved Crown Prince Rhaegar and she had married him of her own volition. Starks and Targaryens had been allies for almost three hundred years. But lies were spread and everybody overreacted, my brother Brandon high on that list. The Mad King murdered my father and brother. Things escalated from there."
Benjen Stark took a deep breath and looked straight at him. "Jon, we are not your enemy. You are part of our pack. We are working behind the scenes to rectify the wrongs done to your house and we will help you get your throne back."
Another long silence, this time Jon didn't get up. He stayed perfectly still and appeared to work through all that he had been told. Finally, he looked at Lord Stark. "How uh, why would you put me on the throne? Why can't I just live with my kin now that I know I still have people to call kin? Surely after all these years, nobody suspects anything any longer. And if I have learned anything from my history lessons, I do not look like a Targar …," Jon halted, his eyes grew wide.
"Maester Aemon! He is my kin as well! And Princess Daenerys and Prince Viserys! Do they know of my existence? Oh, we're going to visit Maester Aemon next! Does he know who I am?" Jon's mind jumped from one conclusion to the next.
"Jon, let us all calm down." Lord Stark interrupted Jon's exclamations. "There is a lot more you need to hear. But to answer your first question, King Robert Baratheon is not a good king. The realm suffers. He doesn't care about ruling, doesn't care about his people. He only drinks and spends a lot of money. He is still searching for your aunt and uncle who are living in exile. He never stopped wanting to eradicate House Targaryen. He would ask for your head the very moment he heard of your existence. As I said, he is not a good King and the smallfolk are suffering."
"Although it is your birthright to rule, the true motivation should be that you, that we want to help people. We do not want children to be murdered because they were born into a particular house. We want to protect Princess Daenerys and Prince Viserys. We want to protect the smallfolk, the weak, things not so dissimilar to the vows a knight makes. But to do all this, to be able to right these wrongs, we need you to have power. The only way to obtain that kind of power is for you to stake your claim. But rest assured, you won't have to do it on your own. It won't happen overnight and we will all stand by you."
Lord Stark studied his nephew closely. Reassured that the boy was listening intently, he continued. "The plan is to keep you safe. You have to stay hidden until you are old enough. In the meantime, we prepare ourselves. We build a fleet, amass an army, forge alliances and give you the education you will need. Raising you at Winterfell with your Kingsguard in tow would not have been safe. Trust me. Your knights and I had a heated discussion that fateful day that I wanted to take you from them at the Tower of Joy and bring you north. We all had to compromise."
"Why tell me now, uh Lord Stark?" Jon asked. He took a deep breath and added, "Can I call you Uncle?" He blushed at the blatant yearning his voice betrayed.
"I would consider it an honour if you would call me Uncle Ned." Lord Stark gave him a hesitant smile. "At the very least this would mean that you are not holding all this against us too much.
"I'm trying to look at it from your point of view, Uncle Ned." Jon was calmer now.
"I am trying to come to terms with the fact that what you and Uncle Benjen have been doing all these years could be considered as treason and that you have been risking your lives all these years. Hells, you have been putting your house, your children in danger." I believe that I am not entitled to be resentful but should be thankful instead."
He locked eyes with Uncle Benjen. "Especially to you, Uncle Benjen! If I am right, you have been doing nothing but travelling for my sake?" Jon looked warmly at his favourite uncle, a correct term since now that he had more than one uncle.
The man had not moved and once more reached for Jon's hand. "It was my choice, Jon. I would do it all again," he stated with a relieved smile on his face.
"Still," Jon addressed his other uncle, why now? Is it because we are going to visit Maester Aemon at the Wall? What is he, a grand-uncle of mine?"
"Something like that yes." Uncle Ned started his confession."If we are being honest, Maester Aemon was the one who insisted on telling you now. We would perhaps have waited a few years longer. Just to keep you safe, mind you. The more people who know, how you might act once you know, the way other people in the know will interact with you, it could all arouse suspicion. Someone could overhear. All reasons to wait a bit longer."
"It isn't because you think me still too young to handle this knowledge, because you do not trust me to be mature enough to keep this a secret?" Jon asked slightly upset.
It was Uncle Benjen who tried to dissuade him from that notion. "Jon, we do trust you. We only wanted you to have some carefree years first. Imagine if you had known earlier. Knowing your sense of duty …", he trailed off but then resumed with more confidence. "Now that you know, will you still be able to forget everything and enjoy playing games with Arya without a care in the world?"
Jon sighed. "Perhaps you have a point there. Although, now that I know some things, I wish to know it all. Perhaps not everything right this instant. The Gods know that I need some time to come to terms with all of this. My parents caused the rebellion! They were the reason thousands died?"
"Jon, don't overthink things now. Wait until you're calmer. But I can perhaps reassure you at least some on account of your parents. We have reason to believe someone set them up. All those lies that were spread could not have been a coincidence. We are looking into it and have a suspect. And do not forget, the situation in the Seven Kingdoms was volatile enough to begin with, remember, a mad King sat on the throne."
"Let's leave the rest for later, perhaps even sleep on it first?" Benjen thought better of hugging Jon even if he ached to do so. He did not want to destroy Jon's composure. The boy would very likely fall apart the moment Benjen offered more comfort. He just squeezed his nephew's hand once more.
Jon nodded. "All right, but in the next few days, I want to be briefed thoroughly. I want to hear all about the plans you have been making in my name. I want to know who has knowledge of my identity, who our allies are at this moment, whom you suspect of foul play and what preparations you were talking about earlier."
He looked straight at Lord Stark as he added with as much authority as he could muster, "And I will want to take part in future discussions. If plans are being made for me, in my name, I will want to at the very least be informed about them if possible have a say."
Jon paused, but the determined look remained on his face. "Also, I want to contact Aunt Daenerys and Uncle Viserys in Essos as soon as that can be arranged."
Jon held up his hand when he saw that his Uncle Ned wanted to interfere.
"I know, Uncle. I won't do anything without your approval. I wish neither to endanger you, your house nor my family in Essos. We can discuss the best way to go about this together, but please know that I need to know that they are all right."
"We've seen to their comfort and safety, Jon." Uncle Benjen once more tried to appease him. "You won't be disappointed to hear about the arrangements we have made for them. But enough, for now, let's take a break," he tried once more. We all need some time to deal with. I propose that we meet once again after breakfast tomorrow. This hasn't been easy for you to hear, I know. But all this has taken a toll on my brother and me as well."
Jon however still had one more pressing question. "Before I go back to my room, before I encounter other people, can you please tell me exactly who knows that I am a Targaryen? Of course, for now, I only need to know this of those currently at Winterfell so I know how to act around them? The rest can wait, but," Jon hesitated, and resumed in a small voice, "I really would like to tell Robb?"
Uncle Ned was quick to reply. "Of all the people residing in Winterfell right now, the only ones in the know are present company, of course, my wife, and the two knights of the Kingsguard. Elsewhere, Lord Reed and Ser Arthur know as well and of course Maester Aemon at the Wall. "
Jon looked pensive now. "Davos Seaworth, Sandor Clegane, they do not know?"
"They only know that you are important and worth protecting. They will probably need to learn your identity soon now that you know."
Jon nodded and wanted to ask about Robb but Lord Stark still had more to say.
"The rest of this little list can wait as you said so yourself. Now about whom we will bring into our circle, let's discuss this the coming days. I would ask you not to tell my son Robb anything yet. I promise I will hear your arguments tomorrow and we can try to come up with a compromise but bear in mind that Robb will have to live under the same roof with Theon and Theon is an enemy. If Robb slips up or if Theon overhears the two of you talking, he will not hesitate to sign our death sentences by betraying us to the Crown."
Jon saw his Uncle Ned slump back in his chair, clearly worried for his heir and the rest of his family. "I understand, Uncle." His voice sounded solemn as he continued. "I promise once more that for now I won't make any decisions or act upon this knowledge without talking it over with you either of you first. I respect the risks that you have already taken for me and will not put you in any additional danger if I can help it. Please trust me."
His Uncle Ned stood up and put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "I am proud of you, Nephew. Let me in turn promise you the same. I will not make any major decisions any longer before discussing them with you first."
Then to Jon's amazement, the proud Warden of the North knelt before him. "I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be, my King. I swear it by the Old Gods."
Jon looked uneasy. "Please stand, Uncle. I thank you and I vow that I shall ask no service of you that might bring you dishonour." He was glad the formal response had flowed naturally from him and mentally thanked his Maester for familiarising him with court protocol. His Uncle Benjen now kneeled in front of him.
"Please Uncle Benjen," Jon pleaded. "Isn't it way too early for this?"
"Jon," Uncle Benjen said, the devotions shining from his eyes, "I've sworn my sword to you when you were but a babe of a few moons old and I have served you loyally ever since. I would very much like to make it official."
"It would be my honour, Uncle," Jon replied completely awed by the steadfast dedication of his favourite uncle.
***
Ser Oswell saw a disturbed Jon return to his guest quarters at Winterfell. He immediately ordered Sandor Clegane to fetch Ser Gerold. Upon his arrival, Ser Oswell ordered Clegane to stay guard outside. Together the two knights entered the room where Jon stood brooding in front of an open window.
"My King," Ser Gerold started hesitantly, "I can only imagine how shaken you must be and I am sure that you have a lot of questions to ask us."
"I am the king of nothing yet," Jon retorted in a troubled tone. "Perhaps I never will be, or will never want to be."
"To us, you always will be the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, my K., my Prince." Ser Gerold protested. "Do not make any decisions now. Wait until you have had time to let everything sink in. You could do so much good for the people of Westeros."
"Everyone keeps saying that!" Jon sighed. "Why must it be me though? I'm hardly twelve years old. I just had to watch a High Lord fall to his knees before me and swear me his fealty. That is a heavy burden to take on, you know. It feels as if he made me responsible for the well-being of the entire North!"
"Not yet, My King. He swore to help you, support you if you wanted to claim your birthright. The rest can follow later when you are ready," Ser Gerold tried to reassure the boy.
Ser Oswell stepped forward. "We were sworn to serve and protect you since before you were born, my King. Please, allow me to reaffirm my vow to you in person. It would mean the world to me."
How was Jon to refuse these loyal knights? He nodded his assent. Instantly, both men drew their swords and dropped to one knee. Once the official part was over, Jon attempted to lift everyone's spirits. "Does that mean that I get to order you around, instead of you me?" He tried to joke but failed since both men were taken aback by his words and were looking at each other to determine how best to react.
It was Ser Gerold who carefully formulated a response. "We are sworn to obey your command, my King. And we will. When it concerns matters of state, ways to go forward, we will only be advisers. When it concerns matters of safety, we hope you will not disregard our orders unless necessary. But when we take on our role as an instructor, for instance during a training session, we will need to be able to exert our authority. We will need you to push on when you're tired and we will not obey your orders to end the training or omit exercises you loathe. You must trust that we will always keep your best interest in mind, but if you do not agree with this, we might as well stop training you at this point."
Ser Oswell nodded in full support and both knights looked at him for a reaction. "Well, Jon said after thinking it through, "I think that I can agree on that for now. However, there will come a time that I will choose how hard and how often I practice. But I agree that that is still years away."
"Here is my first command. You are not allowed to address me as 'my King' yet, if you want to pay me homage, I'll reluctantly agree to 'my Prince' for the time being but would ask you to use it as little as possible and only in private. I do not feel I have earned any titles yet. Let me get used to the idea at first. I need some time to come to terms with my newfound parentage first. Please, allow me this."
"I would however like to hear your version of my parent's role before and during the Rebellion. Perhaps you can tell me tomorrow or the day. I'd prefer to hear about it before we leave for the Wall?"
"Of course, my Prince" Ser Gerold answered. "If you prefer to be alone for now?"
"I do, thank you, Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell. But before you go, allow me to express my gratitude to you both from the bottom of my heart for your unwavering loyalty to my House."
Ser Oswell's eyes grew wet. "My Prince" He bowed and both men left the room.
***
The next morning Jon and both his Stark uncles once more held a private meeting after breaking their fast. A lot of things were discussed. Then Jon mentioned the subject of his Targaryen relatives.
"I have given this a lot of consideration, Uncle. I will stall my decision until I have spoken to Maester Aemon. I hope he can give me some advice. Uncle Benjen informed me that the Maester hears from them from time to time. I'll ask him for a safe way to contact them."
Both uncles nodded their agreement.
"On the subject of Robb however, I understand that you believe him too young still. I do. I know first-hand what a burden this knowledge is. However," Jon frowned, "if I decide to pursue my birthright, I will need his unwavering loyalty. How will I gain that if I don't trust him in the first place?" He shook his head to refrain Uncle Ned from speaking.
"I won't make any decisions before I have talked with Uncle Aemon. He has seen many generations of Targaryens come and go. I want to hear his reasons for giving up his birthright. I want to look him in the eye as he tells me whether he as any regrets or not. I will also wait until you have told me all I still need to know. Then, I will take my time to decide if I want to do this. And only if after all that, I decide to go forward, we will discuss Robb again and we will need to come to a compromise because I will not want to wait long before telling Robb who my parents are."
Jon was not done yet. "I would also like to have your consent to tell Davos Seaworth and Sandor Clegane at my discretion. I do not believe that I can stall this for long. They belong to my immediate circle. I need to be able to trust these people with my life. I cannot do that when if they are feeling resentful because they discover it by accident and wrongfully believe I was the one who didn't find them trustworthy enough. What's more, it is only fair that they should know what is at stake when they are the ones risking their lives."
"I can see you have considered all this very carefully," his Uncle Ned reluctantly agreed. "I trust you to handle this, but take precautions. Be sure the members of your Kingsguard are near you when you tell them. You always need to prepare for the worst possible outcome. That way it mostly never happens." A tiny smile crossed his uncle's solemn face.
They moved to safer topics after that as Uncle Benjen started talking about the logistics of the coming trip to the Wall.
***
Jon tried to hold it together during his last days at Winterfell. He spent as much time as possible with Robb and half of the time this included Arya whether they intended it or not. He knew it could be a long while before they might see each other again. He would miss Robb terribly.
"We'll compete on who can write the longest letters," Robb had tried to joke but the look on his face had belied his tone.
"Uncle Benjen's luggage will consist mostly of scrolls and he will hardly have any room in his saddlebags for his belongings when he travels between us." Jon had tried to continue the joke.
He did his best to act as if nothing was the matter so Robb wouldn't ask questions. Questions that Jon would so very much like to answer but wasn't allowed yet. It took all of his mental strength.
As a consequence, Jon cut their alone time short with some lame excuse of necessary preparations. He needed some time to mentally recuperate from the effort of hiding his inner turmoil.
His last evening at Winterfell, Robb had somehow discovered where he had hidden away and had interrupted his brooding. His friend had quietly taken the seat next to him, put his arm around Jon's shoulders and had pulled him into him. They had stayed in that positions for a long time, not talking just silently supporting each other, both keenly aware that they had to part in the morning.
Robb probably knew something else was bothering his friend but wisely choose not to ask and to allow Jon to decide when or whether to tell him. They parted when it was well past their bedtime with one last hug. Jon knew he would never find another friend he could be as close with as Robb. If only he could tell him he was family. It would mean the world to Robb, just like it did to him.
***
The next morning, the travellers for the Wall were all assembled in the courtyard. Davos smiled when he saw Robb and Arya making their way to the front row of the sending-off party on the opposite side of the yard. Both were struggling to hide their emotions. Until the last moment Robb had tried to obtain his father's consent to accompany them but Lord Stark had not relented.
The latter stood quietly beside his family giving off the impression that the Warden of the North had come out to pay his respect to his brother and travelling companions who were about to leave for the Wall. However, Davos observed that Stark's eyes rested on Jon to the exclusion of all others.
Jon waved one last time at Arya and Robb, nodded to Lord Stark and urged his horse onward. The small caravan followed him at a sedate pace. Jon rode upfront between his two so-called houseguards who wore similar uniforms, always donning their helmets. Sandor Clegane, Benjen Stark and Davos himself made up the second row.
They were followed by a wagon carrying supplies for the Wall and several Stark houseguards. The end of their small procession was made up by a few brothers of the Night's Watch accompanying a dozen recruits. The party from the Night's Watch had arrived at Winterfell just in time to join their excursion. They were a welcome addition that allowed Lord Stark to keep more of his houseguards at Winterfell than initially planned. Davos would escort Jon's small entourage back to the Driftmark by boat. His crew would complement Jon's protection for that stretch of their journey.
Davos had been watching Jon closely these last few days. Jon was a quiet intelligent boy who was good with people. Davos had immediately taken a liking to the young orphan. When Davos had arrived at the Driftmark with Prince Oberyn and Sander Clegane, it hadn't taken him long to connect the dots.
He had counted back the time and quickly realised that Jon was the baby he had sailed from Dorne to the Driftmark all those years ago. His three faithful shadows were a dead giveaway. Many years back, he had seen through their disguise. He had known they were no farmers returning to their homestead after the war. Their stance had been a dead giveaway. These three were men of noble birth, knights most likely. It had been a strange group. Davos had recognised Howland Reed since his wife and Lord Reed's wife were cousins. The combination however of a Northern Lord, three knights in disguise and a baby was suspicious.
But discretion had been a condition of getting the assignment and Davos had never spoken about this to anyone. Apparently, in doing so he had earned the good graces of his clients because they had used his services frequently over these past ten years. And now they had asked him to work for them exclusively. Davos had not hesitated. The entire situation had intrigued him for years.
Besides, he had grown fond of the boy. The young orphan welcomed his company and Davos couldn't help but feel protective towards Jon, these last few days even more than ever. He was not blind. He had noticed that something had happened to Jon during that meeting with Lord Stark. Jon had kept more to himself and could often be found brooding in some corner. Robb was the only one who could get him to lighten up and coax him to go out and share an activity.
But that was not the only change Davos had noticed in the boy after that fateful morning. Jon seemed more confident somehow, certainly in his interactions with Lord Stark. Where before Jon had been very deferential to Lord Stark, even a bit intimidated, he now actively sought out Lord Stark's company and initiated their conversations. Davos had been astounded to notice that the proud Warden of the North never turned the young boy away and always gave him his full attention.
***
Davos observed the lad as he was installing his belongings into a small tent. The boy looked exhausted and a bit sad. Davos decided to offer to keep him company. It was clear as day that the boy needed a sympathetic ear. And since Davos couldn't fetch Robb as he had secretly done while they were still at Winterfell, he decided to do the next best thing.
In the meantime, Jon had installed himself by a small fire and noticing Davos approach, he invited the older man to keep him company. "Are you warm enough Davos? Have you ever been so far north?" Jon asked after Davos had found a comfortable spot close to where he was sitting. He made sure to keep his eye on the meat he was roasting over the fire.
"Not over land, no," Davos replied. "But I have sailed to Eastwatch a few times and I can tell you, at sea, the winds make the cold temperatures even more biting. These old bones are used to a lot, you know. I can handle it. You need not worry about me." Davos smiled at Jon. "That smells delicious. I think I will roast some for myself." Davos made a move to stand up and head toward the supply wagon but Jon halted him.
"I have an extra portion right here. You can roast that. The piece that I am cooking now will be more than sufficient for me."
Davos sat back down, prepared the offered piece of meat and started roasting it. He noticed the two knights sitting a few feet away around another fire. By all appearances, they were engrossed in conversation but Davos was not fooled. They were positioned just so that they were able to watch every movement that Jon was making.
Davos focussed his attention back to the boy and saw that the boy was studying him. "Davos, why are you travelling to the Wall? Do you have business dealings with the Night's Watch? Will you travel back with us or will we have to part ways soon?"
"I was hired by Lord Reed who acts on behalf of your entourage to join your journey to the Wall because I will be the one to convey you safely back to the Driftmark by ship." Davos had chosen his words carefully. He wanted the boy to realise that Davos realised that Jon was at the centre of this strange excursion. A young boy who could hardly be older than eleven or twelve name days had no business at the Wall. Davos had had his suspicions all these years ago but current events confirmed that he was on the right track. He had already been able to fill out several gaps in his theories.
But as he watched Jon slump his shoulders, he wondered if it had been the right thing to do. He moved a bit closer to Jon and tried to help the boy. "Are you all right, Jon? You seem a tad troubled these last few days. Has anyone been a nuisance to you? Is there anything I can do to help?"
Davos was close enough so he could whisper these words. Jon could hear them over the crackling of the fire but no one else would. Out of the corner of his eye, Davos saw Benjen Stark approach but the two knights signalled Stark to let Jon and Davos be. Benjen Stark complied and joined the two knights instead.
The lad in the meantime had shifted a bit closer to him. His shoulders were almost touching Davos' arm. It seemed Jon appreciated Davos' effort to comfort him. "I'm not completely fine yet," the boy told him quietly, "but I'm getting there. I just got some distressing news about my parents. I am still trying to make sense of it all."
"I think your meat is well done," Davos warned Jon and for a moment they focussed on the food. They spent some time in comfortable silence. Davos waited until Jon had finished his meal before he resumed their conversation.
"I will not pry, lad. You tell me, or you don't tell me. You decide. But know that I'm here if you need a listening ear. Sometimes talking about things makes you feel better, gives you a clearer perspective." Davos tilted his head and smiled at Jon. "Or I can always distract you with a silly tale if you prefer. I happen to know a few more since travelling with the extravagant Prince Oberyn."
Davos stopped when he noticed that Jon had tears in his eyes. "Or I can sit here in silence, just keep you company," he added quietly.
Jon leaned against Davos looking for physical support. "Just sit here with me for a while," he whispered. "And thank you, Davos. As soon as I can tell you more, I will. For now, know that I am grateful for your company and value your advice."
Davos put his arm around Jon's shoulder to offer more comfort, unknowingly imitating Robb's gesture from the night before. Somehow this memory made Jon feel better. They stayed like that until it grew too dark and everyone retired to their tents.
***
The next morning Davos approached Benjen Stark. "Jon's troubled. I hope Lord Stark has done right by the boy?" He saw Benjen Stark swallow. Davos waited patiently for a reaction.
It took a while for Benjen Stark to decide how to respond. "Jon is very dear to our family. We consider him part of our pack. We will always love and protect him," he vowed.
Davos nodded. "He is easy to love", he confirmed and walked over to where the horses were grazing. When he looked in the direction of Jon's tent again, Benjen Stark had joined the boy and was hugging him.
***
Davos was blinded by the sun's reflection that bounced off in the large structure of ice that came into view once they had left the last trees behind. They would reach Castle Black today. The journey had been uneventful. They had encountered no thieves, no Wildlings and there had been no attacks of wild beasts. Even if Davos had laid eyes on the Wall before, it still was a majestic thing to behold.
Davos relished seeing the awe in Jon's eyes. The boy appeared relaxed, content even. Jon's mood had improved gradually over these last two sennights on the road. Perhaps this long trip on horseback had been just what he needed.
His close companions had given Jon enough solitary moments to work through whatever burden that had been placed on his shoulders. They would often ride in a protective formation with the two knights upfront Jon occupying the second row, Davos, Benjen and Sandor Clegane behind him closely watching his back. They mostly allowed Jon to make the first move and the choice of a conversationalist when he was ready for company.
But what delighted Davos the most was that no matter what problem Jon struggled with, the confident attitude Jon had begun to adopt after his last discussion with Lord Stark hadn't wavered. He had witnessed the lad become more positive and assertive and was happy to see him on occasion make jokes with the men. Jon could strike up an amiable conversation with anyone, be it a Lord or a lowly Night's Watch recruit. Everyone seemed to welcome the boy's company.
Davos turned his head back to the Wall when he had heard the sound of a horn. Benjen Stark moved his horse closer to Davos. Clegane followed suit.
"It seems the Watch have spotted us," Benjen told the both of them. "They will send out a party to escort us."
And he was right. A short while later, a party of four men in black furs made contact and guided them along their last few miles and through the gates of Castle Black.
***
Jon's eyes took in the wooden structure that was Castle Black. It was larger than he had imagined even though Uncle Benjen had told him about the renovations that had taken place these last few years. He knew that it now housed more than a thousand men in relative comfort. The guest quarters they were assigned looked clean and functional.
Jeor Mormont had welcomed them all but Jon had noticed immediately how the man had looked at him with a wary eye. The Lord Commander had questioned his Uncle Benjen's sense in allowing such a young boy to visit here, the Wall being no pleasure park being his exact words. Mormont's voice had boomed over the caravan so everyone had been able to hear the harsh words. Jon hadn't known where to look.
Uncle Benjen however had calmly reached into his saddlebag and removed a scroll. Mormont had accepted it and read it on the spot. The man had granted them entrance without another word.
Later alone in their rooms, Uncle Benjen had explained to his nephew that the scroll contained the polite request of the Warden of the North to allow Jon Celtigar access to Castle Black. He motivated his request by stating that Jon Celtigar was a good friend of his son and heir and that the boy had been working diligently on a translation of an old Valyrian diary and would appreciate Maester Aemon's assistance. Lord Stark had stressed he would consider it a personal favour and had reminded the Lord Commander of the continued support the North gave the Night's Watch.
Jon had been introduced to Maester Aemon at dinner. There had been no opportunity to exchange more than a formal greeting but he had been granted a meeting with the old Maester the next day in the afternoon. Maester Aemon still had to attend to his duties as Maester of the Watch first. Jon had understood but he was a bit disappointed all the same. He was impatient to meet the first member of his birth father's family.
He went to bed early that night and dreamt of a large maze. Princess Daenerys was beside him and he saw himself pushing a strange chair that had two wheels instead of four legs. They were frantically making their way through the maze. He realised they were searching for Prince Viserys but couldn't find him, no matter how hard they tried. Jon awoke, a lingering sense of dread remaining from his dream. Were his aunt and uncle safe in Essos?
He tried to shake these ominous thoughts. He got up and readied himself so he could join his companions and break his fast. The sooner he started his day and found some activity to keep busy, the quicker it would be time for the meeting with his great-grand-Uncle Aemon. Perhaps he might join a training session of the recruits this morning.
Interlude 6: An unlikely alliance
Oberyn was debating what to tell his brother. His mission had been successful and he had all his answers. Only, he couldn't share what mattered with his brother. He had been sending regular reports to his brother at Sunspear these last few years. Sometimes even briefing him personally and enjoying a few moons at home, a necessary reprieve from his years of travelling.
The first item of real importance he had learned was that the Targaryens across the Narrow Sea were safe and comfortable. Prince Doran had permitted him to use Dorne's resources should the royal children be in need, but they were not.
Oberyn first step had been to go straight to the prime source of information in Westeros. He had visited Lord Varys in King's Landing. Not an official visit to the Crown, he would delay that as long as possible. Never would still be too soon for him! He had stayed in a luxurious brothel near the town walls and made his presence obvious to some children he suspected were Varys' little birds.
He felt safe taking this step. He would reveal no secrets if he betrayed his interest in the wellbeing of Prince Viserys and his sister Daenerys. They were family, related to Dorne by marriage. So he had had no qualms in asking the Master of Whisperers what he knew about them.
Varys had been more than willing to cooperate. His little birds had informed the Master of Whisperers of Prince Oberyn's whereabouts and Varys had not hesitated in establishing contact.
"Initially, I had set them up in a modest house in Pentos, my Dornish friend," Varys told Prince Oberyn. "I even sent several Targaryen loyalists their way. However, they no longer need my support. My little birds and spies across the Narrow Sea have informed me that the two royal children have been moved to a grander location. A rather safe one as I had to experience to my detriment. I have yet to get a spy inside their mansion."
Prince Oberyn had frowned at this. "And who exactly is taking care of Elia's good family?"
Varys had kept his surprise hidden and had relayed his second theory, the first one obviously erroneous now Oberyn had revealed that Dorne wasn't behind this. "Mind you", he had warned Prince Oberyn upfront, "what I am going to tell you are only strong suspicions. I have no proof but I suspect that the three former knights of the Kingsguard who disappeared without a trace could be behind it all. I am still trying to sniff out how they are funding the entire operation. I have some vague clues that lead to the North but not enough proof to be sure this intelligence is reliable. It is all rather vexing."
His jaw had shifted slightly before continuing. "I haven't been able to get my little birds to infiltrate the new household of the Targaryen children as I said but mayhap we should consider this a good thing. It reassures me their safety is being taken seriously. Still, I would like to be reassured about one thing. My little birds' latest reports mention that they are only catching glimpses of Princess Daenerys. She is the only one to venture into the city with an escort. I have no real proof that Prince Viserys still resides in Pentos."
Prince Oberyn had thanked Varys for the information and said he would investigate further and vaguely promised to send word to Varys if he learned anything substantial.
Soon after, he learned from his contacts in Essos that the Prince had succumbed to an illness. He had immediately conferred with Varys but additional information from Varys' birds confirmed that there had been no foul play. The Prince's death was just a tragedy but not an uncommon one. Sadly, the red fever was not uncommon in Essos and the Prince had been one of many to die from the last outbreak.
***
It had been years now since Oberyn had begun this quest. His investigation currently focussed on Benjen Stark. Oberyn had found traces of the North's influence in places he had never seen that before. Benjen Stark did more than lobby for support for the Night's Watch. That was much had become clear.
In Essos, he had seen with his own eyes the large shipments of glass that were being shipped north. A more important detail that had caught his eye was that this cargo was transported in northern vessels! Nobody had known that the North had a fleet! Scrutinising the ships, he knew enough to conclude that they all seemed in good repair. Hells, he would even go so far as to guess that most of them were on their maiden voyage or had not encountered much rough weather yet.
Even without personally venturing into the North, Oberyn had found more clues that something was up in that Kingdom. In every harbour he visited, there were northern ships at anchor. And when he encountered Benjen Stark for the second time in that year in an opposite corner of the realm compared to where he had first seen him, he began to track the Northerner's movements. After witnessing Stark meet a man that Oberyn recognised as one of the messengers of the Targaryens in Essos, he knew this was no longer a coincidence. Not If you also remembered that the Mountain had been shipped to Dorne on a Northern vessel sent by a Manderly and added Varys' suspicions.
Oberyn had not yet informed anyone of this, neither his brother nor Varys. He wanted to get to the bottom of this first. No need to make a fool of himself. There was still a minor possibility that he had this wrong and Benjen Stark was nothing more than an agent travelling for the Night's Watch. After all, his theory that the North was building up strength to declare their independence, was mere speculation. He had no real proof yet.
He based his theory on the fact that relations between King Robert and the Warden of the North had soured. But why would they concern themselves with the Targaryens? Were they planning to help them back on the throne? It didn't make sense. Why not declare the North independent and a Stark King of Winter? He knew he was still missing a piece of the puzzle. So, for now, the only option was to gather more intelligence before sharing his theories with his brother.
And to make matters worse, he had made no headway in his search for Lord Tywin Lannister. He had travelled to every port in Westeros except for the northern ports. Nobody had been able to give him a lead on the High Lord's whereabouts.
Almost a year after the Greyjoy Rebellion had ended, he had almost decided to give up and head back home. This war had crushed the most important foundation of his conspiracy theories. Bards were singing songs of the brave warriors that had defeated the barbarian Krakens. They always praised how valiantly Baratheons and Starks had fought side by side victorious once more. This time they had defeated the Ironborn. King Baratheon and the honourable Eddard Stark had reconciled.
Oberyn had already made arrangements for a ship to take him home when he had been approached by a messenger. He saw through the thin ruse of opening up trade negotiations between Dorne and the Driftmark immediately. He knew the Driftmark was a place that Benjen Stark visited often. Most probably it was his secret base of operations for whatever the Starks were up to.
He eagerly accepted the invitation and took heart in the thought that he had been on the right track all along. He had real hope now that he was on the verge of finding out what the Starks were planning and how it involved the Targaryen Princess in Essos. He told his captain to change their initial destination and head for the Driftmark instead.
***
All the years of speculation and inventing theories had not prepared him for the young boy. Oberyn had been welcomed by Benjen Stark who had been at the harbour the moment Oberyn's ship docked at the small island. Together they had travelled the few miles to a small settlement. They had kept to small talk during that short journey on horseback.
Dinner was still a long way off when they had entered a courtyard where a knight was teaching a young boy to fight. Although they were training with wooden swords, the knight was in full armour, complete with helmet. The boy, who could be no more than eleven years old, was dressed up in boiled leathers and his face was also hidden by a helmet. He seemed an apt student and Oberyn was entranced by his elegant footwork. 'That lad would easily adapt to our Dornish fighting style, Oberyn couldn't help but think.
The boy had seen them enter and immediately lowered his sword and was asking permission for something. The knight stepped back and the boy rushed up to greet Benjen Stark who had dismounted while Oberyn had been watching the sparring.
"Uncle Benjen! You are back!" The boy hugged Stark affectionately.
Oberyn saw the obvious regard Stark had for the boy as well. 'Uncle?', Oberyn couldn't help but wonder.
But then it happened. The boy took off his helmet and shook out his dark curls. Although Oberyn saw the dark grey Stark eyes something in his face, perhaps his cheekbones, his chin, the way the boy moved, were familiar.
'Did Benjen Stark have a bastard, one with Dornish blood?' Oberyn senses were on full alert. He was sure now it was all about the boy.
He studied Benjen Stark who met his eyes warily. Then he looked over to the knight who had removed his helmet as well. 'Ser Arthur Dayne! Of course, how could he not have recognized the fighting style of his former friend? Hells, he should have recognized it in the way the boy had fought as well.'
He almost stumbled and didn't know how to act. 'Ser Arthur Dayne was alive. He was in Westeros and was connected to this boy how? The boy was a Stark, if Ser Arthur Dayne was his family as well, it could be through his mother's blood that he was a Stark. Lyanna', he thought and then the next idea struck him and he staggered and sat down not caring if the ground was wet he was about to soil his clothes. 'Rhaegar! Ser Arthur was protecting Rhaegar's offspring, a child with Lyanna Stark, a royal bastard!'
Both Stark and Ser Arthur were looking at him apprehensively. Both had their hands on the pommel of their swords. He noticed his erstwhile friend did not carry Dawn.
"Prince Oberyn?" Ser Arthur handed him a drink."I know it is a shock. But I am alive, have been all this time. For the sake of the esteem we both had for Crown Prince Rhaegar, will you let us explain?"
Oberyn looked around searching for the boy. They must have ushered him somewhere else, safe from the possible threat that Oberyn presented now that he suspected who he could be. "The boy is Rhaegar's spawn? You want to put a bastard on the iron throne?" Oberyn spat out. He still wasn't a hundred per cent sure. He watched both men, studying their reactions carefully.
Stark's eyes had darkened with a murderous expression on his face and he had stepped closer to Oberyn. He was about to give an angry retort when Ser Arthur stepped between the two of them.
"Best get somewhere private before everyone hears what we are talking about. Prince Oberyn, would you be willing to hand over your weapons? All of them." He added after Oberyn had given him his sword and one dagger.
Frustrated Oberyn looked at the both of them but then proceed to pull another four daggers from his person. Ser Arthur scanned him thoroughly and asked.
"Can you give me your word of honour that you are not carrying any other objects that can harm the boy?"
Oberyn looked at him defiantly "Will you be satisfied with my word of honour? I solemnly swear that I won't harm anyone while staying on this island? Unless I have to defend myself of course," he added as an afterthought. When they didn't respond quick enough to his liking he added. "I have been very compliant. I haven't been this defenceless amongst strangers in a long time. Put yourself in my shoes? Would you want to be completely unarmed amongst strangers?" he grumbled.
Ser Arthur laughed, breaking the tension. He patted Oberyn's shoulder. "You, my friend? Defenceless? Even unarmed, my Prince, I am well aware that you are far from defenceless. Besides, we are no strangers. We are former friends, hopefully once more future allies."
He helped Oberyn on his feet and they walked towards the small cottage where the three knights had lived many years.
***
A long discussion ensued. First Oberyn had been infuriated. " Rhaegar's annulled his marriage? He took another wife?!"
"He didn't change the succession. Elia's son was still going to be first in line of the succession. He had it written out, signed by witnesses. Elia agreed." Ser Arthur had argued and told him there was proof.
"We have correspondence in our possession between Prince Rhaegar and Maester Aemon at the Wall, written proof that your sister had been consulted and approved of the idea. She had been scared that she would not survive another pregnancy. She intended to continue to live with Rhaegar and his second wife and raise all royal children together. Targaryens had done such before."
Oberyn's temper had softened gradually and he seemed more willing to listen. He had asked to see one of these so-called letters and Ser Arthur had procured one, handing it over reluctantly and keeping a close eye on Prince Oberyn.
"The scrolls signed by the High Septon containing the annulment and wedding are safely stored in a secret place in the North." He added after Oberyn had returned the letter to him.
"Why call the boy Aegon though, who calls his second son after his dead child?" Oberyn had sighed. "I don't know if I can ever call him that."
"We think it was not Prince Rhaegar's doing. He was dead by the time Lady Lyanna gave birth. He knew she was with child but I do not think they discussed names. Or if they did, perhaps Lady Lyanna changed their original choice after learning of the death of his two firstborns? It was probably her way of honouring her husband's murdered children. If nothing else, we think it further proof that both parts of Crown Prince Rhaegar's family had been on good terms with each other." Ser Arthur completed his explanation.
At the end of their talk, Oberyn was reconciled with what he had learned. He was glad that none of the stories circling about the missing members of the Kingsguard had been true. They were alive and had retained their honour.
He had congratulated the Starks on their conniving plot for neutralising the formidable Tywin Lannister. If anyone else had told him, he would not have believed them. 'And here I thought the Starks were the most honourable House in the Seven Kingdoms. It seems they are the most devious. To get away with all this scheming and still have such an upstanding reputation! I wonder if Eddard Stark sleeps well at night.'
How he felt about the boy however, he was not sure yet. He had agreed to stay at the Driftmark for a sennight and take this time to observe the little Prince without raising the lad's suspicion.
Oberyn had been warned that the young Prince still did not know about his true origins. He would be formally introduced to Jon Celtigar at dinner where he could also get the opportunity to reacquaint himself with Ser Gerold.
***
Eddard Stark had been right in his predictions. Oberyn did like the idea of thwarting the Baratheon-Lannister alliance and had readily agreed to keep Prince Doran out of the loop for now, already relishing the moment he could show his brother that acting yielded better results than the passive approach his elder brother always relied upon.
He couldn't help but soften upon hearing their arguments that the boy was a half-brother to Elia's children and that Oberyn would have done the same to keep his kin safe had he been given the chance. Babies were innocent of the circumstances of their birth.
***
It was a sunny day and Prince Oberyn was aroused from his sleep by the sound of arrows hitting a wooden target. The position of the sun that streamed its light from high up through his little window made him realise it was almost the middle of the day. 'No wonder I overslept,' he muttered to himself. 'A man could get drunk from less.' He hurried through his morning ablutions quickly broke his fast and joined the men outside in the training yard.
Jon had just finished his target practice and was sitting down drinking sipping some water. He stood politely when he noticed their visitor approach. "Did you sleep well, Prince Oberyn?" The boy opened the conversation.
"Late enough, it seems." Oberyn adapted a jovial tone. He was curious to get to know the boy that Ser Arthur had raved about last night. Oberyn had only been able to exchange courtesies with him during the evening meal the day before.
It was endearing to see the young lad struggle to find another topic of conversation. "What is your weapon of preference if you spar, Prince Oberyn?" Jon asked after a moment.
"Definitely a long spear." Oberyn didn't hesitate. "I like to make fools of knights trying to fight with swords that have not half the reach of my long spear." He saw Ser Arthur narrow his eyes and added, "Most knights, not all of them."
"I would love to see that." Jon looked at him expectantly.
'Of course, the boy would,' Oberyn thought. 'Not today though I don't feel like it.' Out loud he answered. "There's no one here I would want to fight. You're not there yet, young man, and well, let's just say I promised myself that I would never fight my good friend over there ever again." He and Ser Arthur shared an amused look.
"Can you at least show me how you handle a spear? I mean twirl it without dropping it? I have never seen a man handle a spear before."
'Damn those puppy eyes!' Well, I might have, but I didn't bring one with me." He evaded.
"We have one here in our armoury." Jon was already on his feet. I'll get it for you." And before Oberyn could react, the lad had stormed off with a highly entertained Ser Arthur following after him.
Jon returned having difficulty carrying three spears of different lengths. "Can you do it with one of these, Prince Oberyn? These were the only ones available." Hopeful dark eyes met his.
There was no reasonable objection he could think of so he rose to his feet and chose the middle one. 'No harm in showing the boy a few moves.'
Jon watched mesmerized as Prince Oberyn moved in all directions the spear gliding along in perfect symmetry up and down, forward and sideways.
Oberyn soaked up his adoration. He started to give short explanations in between moves: when to use a particular move, the possible countermoves of his opponent, how he would react and so on.
At one point Jon approached him. "Prince Oberyn, I did not understand that last bit. Maybe if I took the position of your opponent and you could repeat that move once more? It would make it easier for me. That was a difficult counter-attack to visualize."
'Did I just get played by a small boy?' Oberyn berated himself a short while later.
Somehow, the young Prince had tricked Oberyn into volunteering to teach him the basics of fighting with a spear and defending against an opponent that wielded one. They had sparred a bit and Oberyn conceded he had enjoyed it immensely. Well, it was easy teaching a boy who had been tutored by the Sword of the Morning. He had even promised the little Prince another sparring session, where the youth would be wielding a spear as Prince Oberyn defended.
Over the next few days, Oberyn made an effort to discuss various topics with the boy. Unlike his daughters, he had to draw him out. 'If there was a negative quality to him, it was that he was too deferential, too considerate. He needed to grow some balls. His daughters could teach him.' That last thought had amused him.
Prince Oberyn had left the Driftmark full of energy and couldn't wait to set all the agreed-upon schemes in motion. He would teach those Northerners how the Dornish could work effectively behind the scenes. Besides, he hardly needed to take any risks.
He was fully committed and looked forward to seeing Elia's stepson sit on that much-coveted throne. Perhaps he could even get him to marry one of his daughters? The Prince didn't strike him as someone who would look down on a person because of his birth and his daughters were beauties. 'Yes, he would show both the Northerners and Prince Doran!'
***
Ser Arthur had been satisfied as well. His report would be brief. Lord Stark hadn't overestimated Jon's magnetism. The boy had removed Prince Oberyn's last doubts.