Small gifts kept arriving at the tavern for Jon. The smallfolk worshipped the ground he walked on now. Jon's safety was no longer an issue. Even those who had been suspicious or afraid at first were soon reassured. Robb Stark's words had turned the tide. The word of a Stark carried weight in the North. If the heir of Winterfell vouched for the young Lord who flew on a dragon, the people of the North would stand by him. His anonymity however had been harder to assure
Half a day later they had adopted Jon as one of their own. Things had escalated from there. First someone had remarked out loud how their new hero resembled Lord Eddard Stark. Next the warden of the tavern, relishing his moment in the spotlight, had let it slip that he had heard the young man mention an 'Uncle Benjen'. It had not taken long before the consensus was that Brandon Stark must have married or bedded a woman at the Driftmark before the Rebellion, probably one with ties to the dragonriders of Old Valyria. No wonder the young man was on their side. He was one of them. Some even ventured that should the late Brandon Stark have married Jon's mother, the young hero could actually be the rightful heir to Winterfell and not Lord Eddard Stark.
Jon's council was at a loss for how to counter those rumours. They had talked about it with Robb but eventually they had decided to let the gossip die out. The important point was that the local population now considered Jon as a son of the North. Jon had hugged Robb and whispered a heartfelt thank you in his ear. He had vowed never to usurp his position. If their plans succeeded and he became King of the Seven Kingdoms, House Stark would always rule the North. Robb had patted his back and had jokingly asked if he could get that in writing. Jon had stayed serious and said he would be happy to do so once he was entitled to issue a royal decree.
This pact with Robb didn't change the situation at hand. If he dared to step outside, people flocked around him, wanting to touch him, asked him for a blessing or promises of everlasting protection. Jon was glad they would leave tomorrow. He hardly ventured outside. And if he did, he stuck close to Ghost. Sandor Clegane was his faithful shadow and together with the direwolf they discouraged everyone from approaching. Jon was getting frustrated with the entire situation. He longed for the physical presence of his dragons to help him relax. Just their mental connection from afar wasn't enough. Jon needed to touch them, rest against Rhaegal's flank and clear his mind by sharing his frustrations with them. The fact that he could feel their longing as well made him give in. After dark he would slip out in a disguise. Ser Barristan had already agreed to come along.
During their walk that night once they were clear of the settlement, Jon relaxed and listened to Ser Barristan's tales about his time with his father. It was not the first time Ser Barristan had entertained him with stories about Prince Rhaegar. The man had plenty of small anecdotes of his time with the Prince that were entirely new to Jon. It had become clear that Ser Barristan had enjoyed a really close relationship with the Targaryen Prince. Listening to these tales for several sennights now, Jon slowly started to believe he had inherited some part of his father's disposition. Ser Barristan kept mentioning it often enough.
Jon had revealed things as well. He had described his warging ability, how he had named his dragons and direwolf and also mentioned the sennight he spent with Princess Daenerys.
However, the most fascinating tale Ser Barristan had told him during their journey across the Riverlands was a detailed description of his father's search for prophesies relating to the northern folktale of the Long Night. When Jon mentioned to Ser Barristan what Princess Daenerys had written about this Lord of Light and his dark night full of terrors, Ser Barristan had immediately informed him that Prince Rhaegar had mentioned a prophesy of Azor Ahai and his flaming sword defeating this darkness. He had stressed that the Crown Prince had been sure these tales and prophesies were all linked somehow. His father had presumed the legend of Azor Ahai to be the Essosi version of the northern tale of the Long Night. Jon had been astonished to learn that his father had considered the possibility of himself or his one of his direct descendants being this Prince That Was Promised, the hero Azor Ahai reborn who would defeat the Darkness once again. In one of his recent letters Uncle Aemon had affirmed he knew of Prince Rhaegar's hypothesis.
This night however Ser Barristan realised his Prince needed to relax and told him an innocent story about Prince Rhaegar playing the harp to the smallfolk out on the streets of King's Landing. And how afterwards he had redistributed the money that he had unintentionally collected, to the poor. The night's rest amidst his dragons had done wonders for Jon's mood. During their morning walk back to the settlement, he had mentioned Princess Daenerys once more to Ser Barristan and had asked the knight whether he would be prepared to sail to Essos and stay with the Princess as head of her entourage.
"I would be unhappy to leave you my Prince. You are the long lost son of my dearest friend. However I am yours to command. If that is your wish, I will protect the Princess to the best of my abilities."
"It wouldn't be for long. Soon Dragonstone will be ours and Dany can come home to Westeros."
Ser Barristan heard the warmth in his voice and didn't miss the appellation. "Pardon me if I am overstepping, but are you planning on making her your Queen?"
Jon hesitated not knowing himself what the answer to the questions was.
"I don't know yet," he decided to be honest. "Uncle Aemon insists on it now that there are grown dragons in the world once more. I feel uneasy and somewhat conflicted when I think about it and I certainly do not want to order her to marry against her wishes."
"As the head of House Targaryen, it is your right to tell her who she should marry, you know that don't you? As the rightful heir to the Iron Throne you will even be able to determine who your allies can or cannot marry. That means you could choose a bride for Robb. If you think on it, soon nobody will be able to marry anyone if you object." Ser Barristan told his Prince.
"I'm not comfortable with that, not yet, maybe never." Jon confessed.
"Well, look at the upside. Nobody will be able to force you to marry against your will. You will be the King. They can only advise you but in the end you will have the last word." Ser Barristan attempted to get back to a more relaxed atmosphere by stressing a positive aspect of Jon's future responsibilities
"You know," Jon smiled now, "I think I told Daenerys the exact same thing when we discussed possible marriage alliances." The young Prince's face regained its serious expression immediately. "About joining the Princess' entourage, let's discuss this with Ser Gerold. I know you were a Lord Commander to King Robert's Kingsguard but here Ser Gerold is the indisputable Lord Commander of mine. If you have a problem with that, please let me know. If necessary I will try to come up with some other way you can serve me."
"I have no problem with that my Prince, not at all. I am very happy I am no longer bound to King Robert and would give my right hand to be able to serve you and your family in any way you deem fit," he reassured the young man.
The next morning, when they neared the settlement on their walk back, several children ran up to Jon. Ser Barristan had scanned them from afar and had allowed them to come closer. Jon ordered Ghost to remain by his side and to stay calm but vigilant. A little girl handed him flowers. Jon feeling a lot better after spending some time with his dragons welcomed the children with a smile and accepted the small bouquet. A young boy asked him where the dragons were. Encouraged by this another child asked what their names were and handed him a drawing.
Jon made a show of admiring it. It was a primitive sketch of two dragons in the air and a lot of shapes that looked like ships on fire beneath them. He could recognise Rhaegal and Viserion because of the colour they had added to the small painting. Grass has been smeared on one figure and flour on the other. He held the painting in front of him so all the children that had gathered around him could see where he pointed. "This one, the green one is called Rhaegal, the silverwhite dragon is Viserion." He handed the drawing back to the child, wished them all a nice day and made haste to reach the tavern before any adults would catch on he was there. After a good night's rest, he felt hungry and looked forward to breaking his fast with his cousin and friends.
Sam saw him enter and immediately gestured him to come over. Jon joined them at the table where Edric, Gendry and Robb were almost finished breaking their fast. They all greeted him with enthusiasm and acted as if it was just another day. Jon smiled. This was just what he needed. He took a bite and listened to Gendry telling Edric about the book he had just finished reading.
'Gendry had finished a book!' Jon caught Gendry's attention and gave him a slight nod conveying a silent congratulation on his accomplishment. Gendry acknowledged it with a proud smile. All was well for now. Jon felt happy sitting here surrounded by his friends. Now he only needed to persuade Sam to stick with them. The only one who had no choice but to leave them soon would be Robb but they would make sure to stay in touch. He had already plans for Robb to come to his side once more soon enough. They were family after all.
Sandor stood in the corner of the common room next to Ser Oswell. Both were watching Jon break his fast with the other boys. He leaned towards his fellow guard and tempered his voice some.
"Look at him, such an endearing boy enjoying time with his friends. To think that he sent most of those twenty fucking warships to meet their stupid drowned God all on his lonesome. The fuckers that made it out alive probably all shit their pants while they ran. We didn't lift even need to lift our little finger. What are we dumbasses waiting for? A few more burning shows like that and the fucking Kingdoms will just fall on their knees for the boy."
"Don't talk like that in here. Rumours are bad enough as it is" Ser Oswell reprimanded. "Ser Gerold is anxious the four of us will not be sufficient to keep him safe here. He wants to continue our journey as soon as possible."
"Now that's not a bad idea." Sandor replied. He straightened himself up and saw Jon laugh at something Robb said. 'At least that Stark kid has come to his fucking senses and helped us deal with the people here.' He didn't voice that aloud though.
***
Jon was surveying the ship with Davos. They would be leaving later that day. "Davos, can I trouble you for some advice once again?"
They had arrived at the bow of the ship and Davos sat down patting the space next to him. Jon didn't hesitate and sat down on the familiar bench.
"Do you think our presence provoked the Ironborn to attack with such a large force? Or is it possible that this was not just a raid but an all-out attack on the North?"
"Hardly an all-out attack, Euron Greyjoy has a larger force than that. No, I imagine he wanted to cement his role as strong ruler of the Iron Islands. The rulers of the Ironborn are chosen. A birthright only gets them so far. If as we suspect Euron has deposed Balon Greyjoy, he needs to prove that he can lead them before they will fully accept him. I reckon he went for a quick win and considered your three brand new ships an adequate prize."
"But why the Stony shore? Why not Seagard? It is closer to Pyke. Was it our presence?" he asked once more.
"I don't think so. But do I know for sure? No Jon, I cannot help you there. Euron probably went for the easier target. If anything, you should be glad they attacked us here. You have a substantial fleet at Seagard and could have suffered great losses."
Jon looked sideways toward the shore where Greywind and Ghost were chasing after each other.
"What are the chances he will retaliate?" Jon was worried to leave the little settlement unprotected.
"They have their own defences Jon. You've toured them yourself. You cannot protect every mile of Westeros personally. Anyway, I do not think he will strike at the same spot twice in a row. He will have to justify his losses. If I were him, I would not attack these shores again until I had a way to diminish the threat of the dragons. You had the element of surprise on your side this time, son. Next time they want to face you, they will come prepared."
"I'll put it on our agenda to discuss with Ser Gerold. I better upgrade my armour before there is a next time. A better helmet would not be remiss either. I will need to train with Rhaegal and test our limits in agility and speed. I will also speak to Gendry to see if he can design something I can hang on to when Rhaegal swoops or makes unexpected sharp turns."
"That boy was a find, was he not?" Davos had taken a liking to Gendry from the very beginning.
"He certainly is, and not only for his excellent skills. He has his heart in the right place. An extra point in his favour is that he can become an important political ally. If Stannis has no male heirs, a simple legitimisation could make him heir to Storm's End, one loyal to us to a fault."
Jon took a scroll out of his pocket, his voice even more serious now. "I received another message from Uncle Ned."
"At the sound of your voice, I reckon not everything is going well in the North?" Davos probed.
"He is worried about the situation in the Riverlands. He wants to send reinforcements to the Tullys. He once more complains about Roose Bolton's arrogance but most of all he is worried about his brother, my Uncle Benjen. Maester Aemon has sent a raven to Winterfell informing my uncle that the regular updates from the scouting party beyond the Wall have stopped."
"No good news buried in there at all?" Davos hoped to lighten Jon's mood somewhat and at the same time gain a bit of time to think of an appropriate response to the issues already raised.
"Well, Sansa gets more proposals than any maid in the Seven Kingdoms. And Bran has had no climbing accidents so far, if that can be considered good news." Jon summarised.
"Is sending northern forces to the Riverlands as Uncle Eddard proposes, a good plan?
"I do not think it can do any harm to send some support. Not too much mind you, the Riverlanders should not fear an invasion from the North. We can discuss this in our small council later today and formulate our advice to Lord Stark if necessary. About his other news, it is not your place to worry about the Boltons. That is an internal matter for the Warden of the North. Your uncle will deal with that as he has always done. If things escalate and only if he specifically asks for it, you can send him your opinion. This situation with your Uncle Benjen however, I think it is too early to worry. You told me yourself that Benjen Stark warned you that the possibility existed he would not be able to contact you for some time. Send a letter to Maester Aemon and urge him to keep you informed of every development. Inform your Targaryen uncle where you are in the North and tell him that you are actually getting closer to the Wall every day. If they need your help, all they have to do is ask."
Jon startled. He studied Davos closely. "You would support my flying off to the Wall?"
Davos chuckled at Jon's surprised reaction. "I have seen with my own eyes what you and your dragons can accomplish. I have also noticed you using your mind high up in the air. You followed the initial battle plan but adapted the strategy when the situation evolved. What's more, I know how you feel about those dragons. I trust you not to risk their lives unnecessary."
Once more Jon rested his eyes on the two direwolves. They were now lying on the beach close to one another. He was touched by Davos' belief in him.
"You know Davos, I heard you mention the term "small council" earlier. I think it is time to solidify your position at my side. As soon as I am King, you will be Hand of the King. For now, it is just Hand of the Prince I am afraid."
Now it was Davos' turn to look shocked. "Jon, your Uncle, Eddard Stark will not be happy about this."
"I'll talk it over with him. I know he is happiest in the North. He will be a most trusted adviser and can counsel us from Winterfell. I will need my Hand firmly by my side. I do not think he will object. If he does, then I will be the first King to rule with two Hands. To quote my dear friend Sandor 'Surely I can loosen up some dumb rule a long dead corps instated hundreds of years ago'. "
They both laughed. Then Davos turned to Jon a solemn expression on his face.
"I am very honoured my future King. I swear I will always serve you to the best of my abilities."
"I know Davos, just promise not to become a sycophant. Promise me to always speak your mind, even if it means contradicting me. I just ask that when we are in company, you do so with respect. In private I give you leave to scold me like you would a naughty boy. If you do not know how to do that, I suggest you take lessons from Sandor Clegane."
Davos grinned although his eyes were still moist from Jon's words. Then he became serious once more. "I promise. As I said, I will serve you to the best of my abilities, my Prince."
"Thank you Davos, I am sure you will. Now I will retire to my cabin. I need to send a few messages out before we cast off later today.
Jon was finishing his letter to Uncle Aemon at the Wall when he heard a knock. He opened his door and saw Robb hesitating in the doorway a scroll in his hands.
"Can I talk to you about something?" he asked Jon.
"Come in, or do you prefer to talk outside?"
"No, in here is fine." Robb entered and seated himself on a small stool. "It is from my mother." Robb lifted the scroll up a bit. "She wants me to marry Roslin Frey."
"What? Who is Roslin Frey and is it just your mother or does she relay your father's wishes as well?"
"No it is just her. She got some alarming reports from a friend and said I could help father by planting the idea of this betrothal in his mind. Roslin Frey is a daughter of Walder Frey, Lord of the crossing at the Twins in the Riverlands."
"House Frey is currently disloyal to their Lord Paramount and House Stark should reward that by giving one of them the coveted position of mother to the next heir of the North? What is your mother thinking?"
"You take the words right out of my mouth, Jon." Robb sighed. "What worries me most about all this is that I do not think it is my mother's idea." At Jon's frown he added, "Not at first anyway."
"Someone is whispering in her ear? Who would do such a thing?"
"Littlefinger!" both boys exclaimed at the same time. They exchanged looks.
"Great minds think alike." Robb commented. "But all joking aside if that is true, what other nonsense could he have been feeding her?"
"I hate to be the one to say this but she always behaved a bit unnatural with me. Do you remember I once told you she always went out of her way to see to my comfort during my stay at Winterfell although she didn't really seemed to like me? When I learned who my parents were, I realised that it was just an attempt to curry favour with the future King." He noticed Robb's morose expression. "I am sorry Robb, but this situation requires total honesty if we want to get to the bottom of things. I have nothing against your mother. I just think she is very ambitious. All her actions are driven by this. She goes against her own feelings if it will serve her purpose. Her southern education taught her she must help her husband reach his political potential." He tried to soften the blow for Robb by adding, "I am sure she does what she does only because she wants to help House Tully and House Stark keep their positions."
"Family Duty Honour," Robb recited the words of the House Tully. "Isn't she aware that my marrying a Frey will not help House Tully but do just the opposite?"
"If what we suspect is true, she is being manipulated by a master conniver. I think the best course of action would be to ignore this part of her letter when you respond to her and talk to your father at the first opportunity when you are back at Winterfell."
"You are right. It doesn't sit well with me though. It looks like we're conspiring against her."
"Well, your father could always put the blame on me. He can tell her he can't marry you off without talking to me about it." Jon deliberately planted this idea in Robb's mind. He studied him carefully.
"She would never go for that." Robb didn't get Jon's hint.
"Robb, your father has sworn complete fealty to me when I was just twelve years old. I have the power to do just that and your mother knows that." He held his breath. How would Robb react to this?
Robb was silent for a few moments. Then a big smile lit up his face. "That's the best news I heard all day. Now I am sure they will not marry me off to some ugly old maid. You'll have my back."
Trust Robb's optimism to see only the bright side of things. Jon shook his head and stayed serious. "We will all have to do our duty, Robb. Even I will have to be careful whom I marry."
Robb sobered. "Not an ugly old maid though."
"Not if we can help it, Robb." Jon reassured him. "Let's hope things will work out. After all you are the dashing heir to the North. We will have all the fair maids of Westeros lining up to be your bride. Uncle Ned writes me of new proposals in every message I receive from him."
Rob blushed and dropped the subject.
"Was there anything else in your mother's letter worth discussing?" Jon asked.
"Only the usual. Arya and Nymeria went missing for two days before she was found camping in the woods near Winterfell. Sansa dreams of marrying Prince Joffrey and becoming the Queen of all Westeros. Mother urges me to convince father to accept the King's request. She doesn't understand his hesitation." Robb summarised the content of the very long letter.
"She should. She is one of the few who know that Prince Joffrey has no chance of becoming King and in the unlikely event that he does prevail, House Stark will have been exposed as traitors and will no longer be considered fit to offer him a Queen." Jon remarked matter of fact.
"More proof she is not thinking clearly but is being manipulated. Who knows what Petyr Baelish has promised her?"
"Keep in mind there is still the possibility it could be someone else. If we guessed right though, what could possibly be the man's endgame?" Jon had wondered about his ambitions more than once.
"Rule of course." Robb didn't hesitate. "Perhaps kill father and marry mother. Or Gods forbid, marry Sansa."
"That's taking it a bit far, Rob, even for Littlefinger."
"Never underestimate the man." Robb argued. "Isn't that the very advice Varys wrote to you in his last letter.
"It is." Jon looked pensive. "He wrote about secret messages Baelish sent out to the Freys and the Ironborn. Is he the mastermind behind all this? The Ironborn's attack here at the Stony Shore, the Freys' out of character boldness?"
Jon sealed the scrolls on his desk and rose to his feet. "I have finished here anyway. Come Robb, we will call a small meeting and discuss these developments. You will represent the North. Follow me."
***
They had taken a light meal first and planned the meeting after. That turned out to be a good decision when new messages arrived during their meal. Sam and Jon immediately started to decipher them. Then they adjourned to a more private location to discuss the new developments.
One of them was a scroll from Prince Oberyn. Decrypting the Prince's erratic code had not been easy. But the gist of the message was clear. Littlefinger had plotted with the Ironborn and Freys. Somehow House Bolton's name had come up. Prince Oberyn suspected they could be involved as well but how and to what extent was unclear. He urged them to take every precaution. He mentioned he was on his way to visit the Wall. He would keep them informed of his whereabouts hoping they could somehow arrange for their paths to cross.
There was a short message from Winterfell, it was marked urgent. Eddard Stark wrote that Theon Greyjoy had disappeared. He hadn't returned after a nightly visit to the brothels. He also mentioned there was still no news from his brother at the Wall. But most importantly, Ned Stark reported that King Robert had started his journey north. He asked Robb not to linger too long and make sure he returned to Winterfell well before the King's arrival. He closed his missive stating he would send a more detailed message later.
A silence fell over the room after Sam and Jon had finished reading these messages out loud. Then suddenly everyone started talking at once. Jon tried to interrupt but didn't succeed at first until he was helped by Davos who banged his fist on the table.
"This will get us no further. Let's address each subject one by one. Everyone will get a chance to comment."
"Thank you Davos." Jon nodded his head gratefully toward his him. "For the record, I want you all to know that I have officially appointed Davos Seaworth as Hand of the Prince." At Ser Gerold's look he continued, "I will not tempt fate by using the other title. You can address him with all your concerns if I cannot be reached. He will coordinate and bring everything to me. Forthwith he has the authority to open all urgent messages that are addressed to me personally if I am not available. He will speak for me then."
Not only Ser Gerold was completely blindsided, the others were surprised as well. Several started to comment, Robb being one of them. Jon stalled them with a simple hand gesture. "I have prepared scrolls to go out to our allies, they all contain my decision." He looked at Robb. "This is the best course of action for now. Things are starting to happen. If something does not go according to plan or in times of crisis we need a clear chain of command. I've explained this to your father in a lengthy letter. He will understand Robb."
Robb nodded and stayed silent.
"Please know I value you all and will always listen to your advice. I urge you to treat me as you have before. This is only a way to work together more efficiently in times of crisis and give Davos a position of authority during negotiations with outsiders. Now let's start by discussing the repercussions the King's imminent visit will have on our itinerary."
The meeting resumed. By the time they parted, their journey was delayed for another day to the dismay of Ser Gerold. The additional time was needed to alter several messages before sending them out. Davos had warned them the tides would not be favourable to set out this late in the day.
Jon decided to spend the last night on dry land with his dragons. Jon had noticed Ghost felt a little sick and had told him he could stay behind if he wanted. Ser Arthur accompanied him on the short trek. It was a clear night and Jon was talking quietly with the knight when suddenly five men appeared before them. They had chosen their place well. Jon and Ser Arthur had just reached the middle of a clearing. The five men encircled them and shouted obscene words to intimidate them. Three more appeared but stayed back enjoying the sight before them.
Ser Arthur and Jon both drew their swords. Ser Arthur spoke quickly and kept his voice low but urgent. "Jon, as I taught you, we fight back to back but leave some space between us. Take your dagger out as well. Any chance your pets could come to our rescue?"
"Last I checked the dragons were sleeping. I would need to warg into Rhaegal and that is no option now. Ghost stayed behind because … oh, do you think someone tampered with his food or drink?"
"Jon! To your right!" A big man slashed at Jon's right side. Jon raised his sword just in time to block the attack. The man approaching from the left got a taste of Dawn. Ser Arthur had already crippled one man. 'Good, maybe we still stand a chance', Jon thought.
Seeing his own opponent swing at him Jon ducked slightly and leapt to the left. Simultaneously he thrust Blackfyre forward at an angle allowing him to slip past the man's breastplate and pierce his skin. The man roared and backed away. Immediately another took his place. Jon had to use his dagger to stop the initial attack. He ducked under the man's arm and slashed at his hamstrings. Boiled leather was no match for Valyrian steel and the man fell. Jon adjusted his position to once more defend Ser Arthur's back. He saw the knight was valiantly fighting with his sword in both arms now, his dagger nowhere in sight. Ser Arthur's right arm seemed a bit stiff. Nevertheless the knight deflected their swings and parried without the attackers getting a single hit in.
The smug looks had disappeared from their enemy's faces when they saw how well their targets were responding to the ambush. They changed tactics and attacked simultaneously.
Two men advanced on Jon. With Ser Arthur at his back, Jon realised they had him cornered. He focused all his attention on blocking the strikes, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, swaying left and right to maintain enough distance to deflect the swords away from his body. Jon was getting desperate. He chose the more skilled strokes that came in handy against an opponent with greater strength than him but he had yet to find a big enough opening to do some real damage.
Without really looking for it his eyes caught a sigil on one of his opponent's breast plates. 'Ironborn', Jon realised and needed all his mental strength to keep his focus. He was still keeping them at bay but his mind was desperately trying to come up with a strategy to defeat two heavy swordsmen without much room to manoeuvre. Despite the noise the clashing swords made, he could hear Ser Arthur's heavy panting behind him.
The two Ironborn kept coming at him. Jon started to sweat profusely. He rushed blocks to evade their attacks but his movements were filled with lethargy now. His sword that usually felt so light in his hands now seemed almost too heavy for him to wield. He knew it wouldn't be long before they overpowered him. Suddenly Jon felt a nudge in his mind. "Ghost!" he called at the top of his lungs.
A man laughed. "You'll be one soon". Both men stepped forward and sliced at him. Jon barely managed to block the left man's swing and he felt the tip of the Kraken's sword cut his leathers while he dodged the second man's attack by throwing himself on the ground. He tried to roll over and get up again but he wasn't fast enough. He felt the big man grab one of his legs. Ser Arthur fought valiantly but his two opponents were impeding him from helping his Prince, a third at the ready to take over if need be.
'If only Ser Arthur could wield two swords.' Jon once more cursed his stupidity that had caused the knight to get wounded. Somehow, his frustration gave him extra energy and he managed to kick his free leg in the man's face but his opponent just laughed at his desperate action. His partner raised his sword to deliver the final blow while Jon was still swerving wildly in an attempt to liberate his leg from the iron grip and avoid the killing blow.
All of a sudden white fur flashed before Jon's eyes and the man swinging at Jon had his throat ripped out before he even realised the direwolf was there. Jon used this moment of confusion to get out of his predicament and got back up, Blackfyre once more at the ready.
Ghost stood between Jon and his attackers now. They had their swords pointed at the direwolf to discourage the beast from jumping them as well. Ghost snarled at them, blood still dripping from his mouth. While the men were exchanging terrified glances, Jon turned around and faced the two men still fighting Ser Arthur. He had to be careful not to fall over the corpses at his feet. He swung at the man closest to him and cut the Ironborn's sword arm with his second stroke. The man's sword fell to the ground. Jon had no qualms opening the man's throat a second later. His survival instinct had long since kicked in. The man died instantly. Jon didn't waste time and turned around once more, trusting Ser Arthur's ability to face his remaining opponent.
Ghost stood there dripping with blood. A second man lay at his feet with a gash in his throat. Jon could hear him slowly drowning in his own blood. He swiftly finished him off by piercing his heart with Blackfyre. He scanned the area. Apart from the men lying on the ground, the clearing was empty. Those still capable of walking had fled the scene.
Jon immediately went over to Ser Arthur who was sitting on the ground, encircled by corpses. "Are you all right? You are bleeding! Why didn't you tell me your sword arm hadn't healed completely yet? You were unable to wield Dawn with one hand from the very beginning of the fight."
"I'm sorry my Prince. He looked at his arm and saw it was bleeding profusely. Jon had noticed this as well and tore a piece of cloth from his tunic but Ser Arthur stopped him. "We should move somewhere safer first. How far away are your dragons?"
Jon closed his eyes and searched for them. They both were sleeping. He concentrated and warged into Rhaegal to wake him up.
"They are on their way." He helped Ser Arthur to get up and they left the bodies behind as they walked to a big three at the edge of the clearing. "Now let me stop the bleeding and treat your arm. Is this still the same wound from the pirate attack? How is that possible?"
Ser Arthur sighed. "Approximately two sennights ago, it reopened during a rather intense training session. I had hoped it would be okay by now."
"Let the Maester tend to it properly and no more fighting with that right arm before he gives you explicit permission. When it is halfway healed, you can start to train with your left arm for a while. I have seen you do it before." Jon suggested.
Both dragons swooped down and interrupted the conversation. Jon reassured them he was okay and thanked them for coming here to guard them. "I am going to warg back into Rhaegal to see where the men have run off to. I want to know where they are headed." He warned Ser Arthur.
"They were Ironborn, my Prince. What more do you need to know?" Ser Arthur felt exhausted all of a sudden. The adrenaline rush was fading quickly and the pain in his arm flared up.
"I want to prevent them from getting reinforcements. I also do not want them to know about Ghost or our ancestral swords. The less they know about our strengths the better. I would prefer that they cannot report back to Euron Greyjoy what precisely happened here. I reckon it is better to keep him guessing." Jon had finished tying up the wound during his explanation.
He sat back and was ready to warg when Ser Arthur protested. "My Prince, I cannot protect you sufficiently during a long warg session in my condition. Better you ride Rhaegal yourself. You'll be a lot safer high up in the air than here on the ground with me."
Jon looked conflicted at leaving a weakened Ser Arthur alone.
"I'll be fine Jon. Besides you'll be back in no time. They cannot have gotten far." Ser Arthur concentrated on keeping his voice firm voice and his gaze firmly fixed on his Prince. Rhaegal simply lowered his wing making his opinion obvious.
"Viserion, burn those corpses in the middle of the clearing but make sure not to set the forest on fire." The dragon seemed only too happy to oblige.
"Ghost, guard Ser Arthur." Jon commanded. He climbed on his dragon and flew off.
Not much later Jon was back. He sat down next to Ser Arthur who hadn't moved an inch and was still leaning against the big tree. He carefully lowered himself next to the knight and told him what he had done. Only three men had made it out of the clearing alive. Since two of them were wounded, they had been making slow progress.
"I saw a small rowing boat on the beach but didn't search to coastline to check if a ship was hidden somewhere. I went back and incinerated both, the boat and the men. Somehow I could not find it in me to be merciful. I felt the same during the latter part of the fight." He turned to Ser Arthur a guilty expression on his face. "Should I be worried? Is this the beginning of the Targaryen madness? Fire and Blood?"
"Jon, during a fight a man's blood gets up. It was a gruelling fight to the death. You had no choice but to be ruthless. You will just have to make sure you rein in your temper and carefully evaluate the circumstances at hand. Each situation will be different. In this case I am not sorry these men are dead. They would have shown us no mercy either."
"Still they were wounded and fleeing. I was not in mortal danger at that particular time."
"They had it coming, my Prince. Besides, you explained yourself why it was a good strategy. Ser Gerold will confirm this during the inevitable debriefing."
Jon sighed and stayed quiet.
"You fought well, Jon. I do not know many swordsmen who would have been able to stave off several larger warriors coming at them simultaneously for as long as you did. I reckon your muscles will be sore in the morning."
Jon did not respond. After a while he turned his attention to Ghost who lay quietly at his feet. "Hey boy, thanks for saving my life! How are you feeling? Jon nudged his mind and felt a slight nausea still lingering in Ghost. "I appreciate you coming all the way to help me. Do you think you can assist us once more? Can you bring a few men with weapons here, men from our pack?" Ghost licked Jon's hand, got up and ran off.
Jon saw Ser Arthur having trouble to keep his eyes open. He knew the knight would not want to fall asleep before help arrived and searched for a neutral topic of conversation. His eyes fell on the unique colouring of the knight's sword. "Why is the metal of your sword so pale? I thought Valyrian steel was usually darker."
Ser Arthur took the sword in his left hand and studied it proudly. "That's because it is not made of Valyrian steel. Dawn was forged from the metal of a 'fallen star'. It is as strong and sharp as Valyrian steel but it is one of a kind. I think your history lessons have been remiss my Prince. Dawn is the most famous sword in all of Westeros."
"Perhaps the Maester didn't teach me because he presumed you would prefer to explain that to me yourself?"
"If that is the case then I must remedy this at once. Legend has it that the Dornish founder of House Dayne followed a falling star to where it hit the ground. At that exact spot, he raised his castle and called it Starfall. The metal of the star was forged into this beautiful sword which is named "Dawn" as you already know. It is the ancestral sword of House Dayne and he who wields it is given the title of "Sword of the Morning". But unlike other ancestral swords, this sword is not automatically passed down from father to eldest son. It can only be held by a member of House Dayne who proves himself worthy of the honour of wielding it by displaying tremendous skill at swordsmanship."
"And if no one is eligible?" Jon was clearly intrigued.
"Then the sword will not have an owner until a new generation of House Dayne yields a worthy owner for Dawn." Ser Arthur explained.
"So it is not sure that Edric will inherit your sword?" Jon knew his friend admired Dawn.
"Have you ever wondered why my nephew has been staying with us for so long? He is heir to Starfall and I am sure his aunt Allyria asks for his return in every message he receives from Dorne. He prefers to train under my tutelage. You must understand that he has grown up with this legacy and wants nothing more than one day to be considered worthy of wielding our legendary sword."
The green dragon stretched his neck and nudged Jon's shoulder. Jon looked at Ser Arthur to see his reaction to being so close to the dragon but Ser Arthur had dosed off. He must have lost more blood than I thought. He was glad now he had not left him and had decided to just send Ghost for help.
He slowly scratched the scales on Rhaegal's cheek. "You were amazing as always Rhaegal. Viserion you were as well." He checked the small fires that had almost died down. He petted the silverwhite dragon. "Do you mind staying here with us for a while? Keep us safe until help arrives?" Both dragons nestled themselves in a wide circle. Ser Arthur and Jon were safely ensconced in the middle. Jon leaned into Rhaegal's flank and closed his eyes. He could rest a bit as well. The dragons would look out for them.
***
"Why didn't you take at least two guards along?" Davos asked him. Davos and his entire Kingsguard were sitting in their usual meeting room in the tavern. Jon was the only one left answering questions. Ser Arthur had been obligated to leave the room a few moments before at the insistence of the Maester who had overruled Ser Gerold, firmly stating no debriefing could be more important than saving the knight's sword arm. At least Ghost lay loyally at Jon's feet so he did not feel entirely deserted.
"I reckoned one guard was sufficient when I visit my dragons." Jon realised he had been careless.
Davos turned to Ser Gerold. "Didn't you double security after the Ironborn attack? And why the hells was Ghost not there from the beginning?"
Ghost lifted his head and whined quietly.
"Ghost felt sick." Jon defended his loyal direwolf. "I told him it was okay to stay behind. It is possible someone tampered with his food or drink on purpose. I could sense how nauseous he was."
"All the more reason to double your guard." Davos looked over to Ser Gerold. The man looked as guilty as if he had committed treason."
"I apologise, my Prince. I was so busy arranging the security for the next few days that I didn't check your plans for this night. I just assumed you were staying in the building where the risk of an attack was small. I should have checked."
"And I should have mentioned it to you." Jon assumed part of the guilt "Let's learn from this and move forward. I am worried about Ser Arthur's arm. Did you know he had re-injured it a while back and it hadn't healed completely? He used both hands to wield Dawn even before his wound reopened."
Ser Gerold looked at Ser Oswell who just shrugged his shoulders. Sandor straightforward as always was the one to speak up. "Should have known the guy was not just teaching us clumsy fools by letting us spar amongst ourselves or with the boys while he just watched from the side lines. When he corrected me for overextending my fucking backswing, I accused him of being a lazy fucker. Should have realised he was still hurt." Sandor shook his head feeling really stupid.
Davos gave Jon a once over. "Are you all right my Prince?"
"I might have a sore knee come morning. It got twisted during battle. I told you how a strong man gripped my leg. The rest of my injuries are not worth mentioning, just a small cut and some bruises." Jon stretched his leg carefully showing them all the swelling around his knee.
"Have it looked at by the Maester as soon as he is finished tending to Ser Arthur." Davos made Jon promise.
Ser Gerold spoke up. "I insist we still leave as planned tomorrow but not at first light. Davos, I trust the tide will still be favourable if we leave a bit later?"
"Yes, as long as we leave before noon, we should be okay." Davos affirmed.
"Sandor, Ser Barristan can you take over guard duty from Ser Arthur and see to it that Blackfyre and Dawn are cleaned and made battle ready again? Have Gendry check both swords first thing tomorrow morning."
"I will care for Blackfyre myself. I'll have ample time since I will not be able to sleep before I know Ser Arthur is alright." Jon was quick to say.
"Do not tarry too long. And keep in mind I will want a play by play tomorrow, my Prince. You, Ser Arthur and I will analyse this at length. But for now, know I am proud of your fighting prowess. Ser Arthur assured me you did well." He patted Jon's shoulder and sighed wearily. "I'll retire now. I plan to get up early so I can be the one to release Sandor and Ser Barristan from their duties before dawn.
Jon just nodded, sat down and started to clean Blackfyre with an oiled cloth. The slow long swipes calmed his mind. He kept at it for a long time.
***
The next morning Jon had trouble keeping up with the fuss his friends were making. They were sorry they had missed the commotion last night and were talking about it animatedly, exaggerating and even playacting parts of it. The survivor elation from last night had left Jon. He felt exhausted and terribly guilty. Normally he would go and talk to Davos but Jon didn't think Davos would have much experience with the feelings he was struggling with. He looked up and considered Ser Oswell. The knight clearly had guard duty and was very alert. It was better not to distract him with a difficult conversation.
**
Sam noticed his distress and nudged Robb. When Robb gave Sam his attention, Sam looked pointedly at Jon. Robb immediately got with program. He left Gendry and Edric to their lively discussion and went over to Jon. Soon both boys were leaving the common room, supposedly to help each other pack. Jon leaned on Robb a bit to spare his sore knee.
They stopped at Jon's room. Ser Oswell opened the door so his Prince could keep his grip on Robb. Jon sighed when he lowered himself to the bed. He moved backwards until he sat up with his back against the headrest of the bed, a bunch of furs supporting his bad knee.
"Is it the pain in your knee that is affecting your mood or is something else troubling you?" Robb decided not to waste time with small talk.
"My knee hurts somewhat when I put weight on it for sure but what do you mean when you mention my mood?"
"I know you think you're handsome when you brood, but now you are overdoing it and it is spoiling your looks. I can't have you destroy our reputation of most handsome cousins in the North now, can I?" Robb tried a teasing tone. "Did something else happen last night?"
Jon was silent for a few moments. When he spoke up he sounded tentative. "Robb, have you ever killed someone?"
"You know I have." Robb frowned. "I wrote you about the ambush last year when I was out hunting with Theon."
"That was clearly a case of self-defence. Have you ever taken a life when there was no direct threat?" He amended his earlier question.
"That occasion was the first and only time I killed someone thus far." Robb stiffened. "What are you trying to tell me, Jon?"
Jon's heart pounded wildly but he wanted to tell someone. He really needed to hear someone else absolve him of this guilt. He took a deep breath. "Last night, when our attackers gave up, the three men still alive fled in the direction of the beach. I called Rhaegal and flew after them. I destroyed their small rowing boat and burned the three men before they could join their ship. Two of them were wounded. I killed three men and it was not in a fair fight, Robb." He hunched his shoulders and lowered his head not wanting to witness Robb's potential disgust.
Robb slowly installed himself on the other end of Jon's bed and faced him. "Why?" he just asked staying very calm.
Jon looked up now. He was surprised nothing more was forthcoming. Whatever he had expected, Robb's patient reaction and willingness to let Jon explain himself further was not it. His subconscious was clearly still struggling with Robb's initial reaction to his parentage. However this was a different Robb. Actually this was the same Robb who had suddenly pulled a 180 and defended Jon to the smallfolk at the Stony Shore. He decided to make a conscious effort to trust his cousin unconditionally once more. The friend he had always known and loved was back again.
Jon repeated what he had discussed with Ser Arthur last night. "It was a calculated move on my part to weaken the enemy, prevent them from revealing our whereabouts and sending others to finish the job, as well as reporting other intelligence. For example the fact that we have skilled fighters, more than decent swords and a dangerous direwolf."
"Sounds reasonable enough," Robb retorted. "It still doesn't explain the ugly brooding."
"I can't prevent myself from feeling guilty. I keep second guessing my actions of last night." Jon admitted. He felt relieved however. The knot in his stomach had loosened a bit.
"Well let me repeat the platitude my father spouted after my first kill. You should be worried the day you don't feel anything when you kill someone. He says he still feels guilty every time he takes a life no matter how justified his actions are."
"That does make me feel a bit better, Robb. Thanks." Jon's lips even turned upwards a bit.
Robb rose from the bed. "Now about packing our things, do you need help or can you fend for yourself?"
"I have it in hand. Thanks again Robb."
"Always," Robb said and left the room adding in the doorway, "You should thank Sam as well."
Jon watched the empty doorway mulling over Robb's cryptic last words.
****
A few days later Jon sat on the bench at the bow of the deck. Ser Oswell was his faithful shadow this time, but it didn't take long for the familiar figure of Davos Seaworth to appear next to him.
"I see you are wise enough to dress appropriately." Davos opened the conversation. Jon had indeed enveloped himself in a wide coat with a broad fur collar. A harsh wind was blowing and it had gotten decidedly colder. They had been heading further north and were slowly approaching Sea Dragon Point. They would make a short stop there just to make contact with the outside world. Jon hoped he would at least get word from Maester Aemon about Uncle Benjen. They also expected updates from their allies in different parts of the Seven Kingdoms.
"How is your knee? Ser Barristan mentioned you were walking around without a limp this morning."
"Much better thank you. I am not yet able to run at full speed or make a sudden left turn, but I'm getting there. I am still excused from sword practice."
Jon looked up when he heard the warning bell from the lookout in the crow's nest. Davos took out his spyglass and searched the direction the boy high up in mast was pointing towards.
A ship approached them from the port side. "It is a single ship." Davos informed Jon. "It is coming toward us at full speed. It won't be long before we can see a banner or a sigil on a sail."
"Just the one ship?" Jon looked relieved. "Then they will not intend to attack. Perhaps they are in need of assistance?"
Davos kept his spyglass trained on the approaching vessel. "Ser Oswell, alert Ser Gerold. It is an Ironborn ship."
"Is it Euron's sigil or the normal golden kraken on a black field?" Jon wanted to know.
Davos handed him the spyglass. "Look for yourself Jon, I am loath to admit it but there is the possibility your eyesight is better than mine." He stood behind Jon and pointed the spyglass in the right direction.
"It is a golden kraken. So chances are it is not Euron. Wait, they are raising another flag, a white flag Davos. Why would they surrender to us if we are not attacking?"
"Well usually in these situations we allow a sloop to approach and after some shouting decide whether or not to allow a small delegation to climb on board to negotiate."
"You know, I would like to have my own spyglass, a small one that fits easily in my pocket. Yours came in very handy when I was high up in the air during Euron Greyjoy's attack. "
Before Davos could reply Ser Gerold was there.
"Fill me in." Ser Gerold commanded his voice brusque. He was breathing profusely. He had clearly run the entire way. Sandor, Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell arrived on deck as well.
"A single Ironborn ship is approaching fast. It just hoisted a white flag. We suspect it is not aligned with Euron Greyjoy." Davos briefly summarised.
"Sandor, see to it that the chief mate signals our other ships. I want everyone at their battle positions. You are responsible for our crew. We will take no chances. Davos, I want everyone with spyglasses keeping an eye on that ship. Notify me of the slightest movement. And as soon as you can count the number of persons visible on deck, I want to know as well. "
"My Prince, alert your friends and keep Ghost at your side at all times. I would like very much for you to stay inside until we know more."
"I'll be up on the bridge but will stay near the doorway, mostly out of sight. That way I will still be able to assess the situation myself." Jon stood his ground.
Ser Gerold nodded and sighed when he saw his Prince disappear inside. 'Why did we ever consent to this damned journey?'
Interlude 12: Unintended betrayal
Catelyn Stark was confused. Petyr had sent her such disturbing messages lately. Now he urged Robb to marry Roslin Frey. What was that all about? The Freys and the Tullys didn't get along. He had lived in the Riverlands and knew that. The Freys were cowards, manipulating thieving cowards. Catelyn hated the toll she had to pay each time she passed through the Twins when she went to visit her kin. I didn't help her one bit that she was the daughter of their Lord Paramount. They insisted on charging an exorbitant fee for her crossing each and every time. Besides, could you imagine seeing her handsome son married to an ugly Frey? No, she didn't understand Petyr at all this time. What's more, he even hinted at a betrothal between Sansa and Domeric Bolton. As if she would let her innocent Sansa join such a cruel house. Had Petyr given up on the betrothal of Sansa and Prince Joffrey? Did he know something that hadn't reached her ears yet? Surely King Robert had not already promised the Crown Prince's hand to another fair maiden?
Life at Winterfell was getting complicated. First there was this vile Ironborn ward they had been ordered to take in. He had taken Robb to visit a brothel when her son had not yet celebrated his fourteenth nameday. The Kraken was arrogant, vulgar and extremely disrespectful sometimes. No, she didn't like him at all. When she complained to Ned about it, he just shrugged and said there was nothing he could do. As long as the King considered him a hostage, Ned would have to do his duty.
Then there was that entire business with his nephew. That was a hornet's nest if ever there was one. Thanks to that situation, Ned was hesitant to betroth her Sansa to Prince Joffrey. If not for the existence of the Targaryen, Sansa could be Queen. One day she had been so frustrated that she had betrayed her ambition to Ned and asked him straight out why he did not simply betroth Sansa to Jon Targaryen if he was so sure the boy would be King one day. Ned had just shrugged his shoulders and stayed silent.
Theoretically Robb had already reached a marriageable age. She knew for a fact that Ned received countless betrothal proposals but as far as she was aware, he hadn't accepted a single one. It was vexing. Petyr was right, her husband hadnot the slightest sliver of ambition. Perhaps she should have listened to him all these years ago but she had stood by her husband like a lovesick puppy. Now she was not that sure anymore that she had made the right decision. Even the message suggesting he could be named Hand of the King if Lord Arryn died, filled Ned with dread. Not because he would mourn the loss of his foster father but because her husband didn't want to become Hand of the King. He didn't want to live in King's Landing. Catelyn on the other hand would love nothing better. She was confident her children would thrive there. Well perhaps not Arya, but she was still young. Sansa and Robb could make excellent matches in the capital.
Well, she was only the Lady of Winterfell and had to obey her Lord Husband. She sighed. Ned had become more distant after the birth of Rickon. The Maester had warned her after that difficult birth that the chances she would deliver another healthy child and come out of it alive herself were slim. Ned had comforted her by declaring that his three sons and two daughters were a greater blessing than he ever would have dared ask from the Gods. He had started to sleep in his own room, at first not to disturb her sleep because of the baby that hindered her night's rest, but later he had used the excuse of working late, lots of meetings and visits from his bannermen. Ned had started to travel more surveying several projects in his large Kingdom. Slowly but surely he had grown more distant. She had retreated into her cold southern manners and he had changed back into the quiet solemn man of the first year of their marriage, one who confided in her less and less.
Catelyn blamed Jon or Prince Aegon for that matter. Of course she hadn't uttered a word to Petyr about all this. She wasn't stupid. She preferred her own head firmly fixed on her body but she had sent him little titbits about Ned's reluctance to leave the North. The amount of trouble he went through to keep the North's strength up and several other little details Petyr often enquired about. Lately he had become increasingly interested in the whereabouts of Ned and Benjen. In his last letter he had even asked a lot of questions about Robb. She had always trusted Petyr but now she was starting to get wary.
However he had written her that if she got Robb to marry Roslin Frey, that she, Catelyn Stark and not her husband the all and mighty Warden, could take full credit for restoring the peace to the Riverlands and help her family who had gotten themselves into trouble by demanding unreasonable things from their vassal house. Littlefinger had suggested the King could take away the Tully's status of ruling house if the troubles persisted.
She looked outside. The sun was slowly losing its heat. It was time to fetch her daughters and visit the Sept.
"Why do I always have to visit the Sept with you when Robb, Bran and Rickon do not have to? They can visit the Godswood. I like the Godswood better. Even Jon worships the old Gods mother." Arya protested.
Ever since Arya had returned from her forbidden trip to the Stony Shore, she talked of nothing but Jon and his direwolf or Jon and his cool friends. Arya would be the death of her. If only she had been a boy, then her attitude could be explained. But no, it was up to her to make a Lady out of Arya, a Lady suitable to marry an important Lord to improve the connections of House Stark, not that Ned seemed bothered with that. He indulged Arya, turned a blind eye when Robb included her in the sword lessons he sometimes gave Bran and Rickon when the Master at Arms was too busy. When Catelyn dared to protest he just waved her concerns away and ordered her to let Arya be. She was just as his sister Lyanna, a female wolf of Winterfell. Ned had such an endearing look on his face when he talked about his sister. Yet Catelyn didn't want Arya to become a second Lyanna. The Gods forbid!
She saw Arya looking up at her expectantly. Apparently her prolonged silence had given the child the hope she wouldn't have to pray to the Seven today. Catelyn was tired of fighting this uphill battle with Arya. She relented for now. She would pick her fight with this child when it really mattered. She would find her a husband capable of handling her.
"Off you go then. The Gods will only hear prayers from people who are truthful in their beliefs. But I will inspect your room later and I will punish you if it is not in pristine condition," she added to sour Arya's victory. "Come on Sansa, I belief the Gods have waited long enough."
Sansa followed her mother like a docile sheep. Catelyn didn't suspect that Sansa envied Arya her freedom. Sansa just didn't like to contradict her mother. She hated conflicts and always tried to keep the peace. So she put her own wishes and feelings aside for now, but one day…
Arya ran off before her mother could change her mind. Not seeing where she ran she bumped into Lady Brienne of Tarth.
"Hey watch where you are going." The lady admonished.
"I am sorry." Arya was genuinely sorry. "She admired Lady Brienne greatly. Loras Tyrell had told her that Lady Brienne had bested more than one knight in single combat. She had been a sworn sword to a Prince but Loras wouldn't tell her why she wasn't any longer.
"I was looking for you actually," Brienne of Tarth said to Arya.
"For me? Not another chore please?" Arya pleaded.
"Well, if you consider it a chore, take it up with your father, girl. He wants me to teach you to fight. I am to give you daily lessons."
"For real, fight with a sword?" Arya looked at Brienne disbelief shining out of her big eyes.
"Sword, bow, dagger and whatever I deem necessary." Brienne was convinced Arya would be a most eager pupil.
"Mother agreed to that?" Hope now filled the young girl's features.
"I have my orders from your father. I think he trumps your mother." Lady Brienne raised an eyebrow. "Well?"
"Can we start today?" Arya was getting excited now. No more stolen moments when Robb could spare the time. Robb had not been home for ages and as a consequence she had not had any real training since that short session with Jon at the Stony Shore.
"We will go to the armoury and gather everything you need. It will be getting dark soon anyway. We start tomorrow morning. I must warn you though; I do not know how long I will be at Winterfell. However for the time being, you'll be getting daily lessons in the morning. We will meet every day after breakfast. I have cleared it with your father. He will arrange your other lessons to start after our session when you have freshened up and put on some decent clothes."
"Will you still train with Loras?" Arya asked.
"Of course, Loras and I need to stay in shape. Hopefully we can both return south soon. Perhaps I can serve his father."
"Why can't you serve here in the North, or better even serve Jon? He has knights in his service. Perhaps he can make you a knight as well."
"Who is that? I haven't met a Jon here at Winterfell?" Brienne asked.
"Jon Celtigar, he is kind of my adopted brother. It was him Robb and I visited at the Stony Shore. Robb is still there. Jon can fight really well. Robb says he has the best teachers in the entire realm in his service. Not one but three highly skilled knights. I do not think you would be able to beat Jon. Robb says he can't. I am sure you would love to spar with those three knights." Arya told her, the excitement evident in her speech.
"When I have the opportunity to speak to your Lord Father again, I will ask him about that." Brienne now realised that the object of the girl's hero worship was none other than the peculiar Jon Celtigar she had encountered in the Riverlands a few moons ago. She doubted the man would be looking for a lady protector having met the three former Kingsguards he had surrounded himself with not to mention the formidable Sandor Clegane. She clearly remembered how exited she had been when they had allowed her to join a sparring session with them one morning shortly before they had to part because she would follow Benjen Stark to Riverrun. She had relished the opportunity and had learned several new moves.
Of course she had not been able to beat any of the knights. She had lasted a bit longer against Sandor Clegane, but only because she had used a few dirty tricks. Her ego had been hurt by the brevity of her previous bouts and she had been desperate for a win by then. She hadn't won against Sandor Clegane either in the end. The man however had shaken her hand and had declared her a bonny fighter. Jon Celtigar had come up and congratulated her. He had laughed and informed her that this was the first time he had ever heard Sandor use such a pretty word.
"Celtigar is not a Northern name?" This young man had intrigued her from the very first moment that she had met him and his direwolf. She was eager to find out why he was such a close friend to House Stark. When Arya had mentioned the term adopted brother her mind had conjured up his image and she had to admit that he somewhat resembled Arya.
"He normally lives at the Driftmark but he is travelling now." Arya replied absentmindedly. She was picking up all kind of fighting tools and armour and putting them down again. Brienne helped her select the pieces that would best suit her height. Arya accepted them gratefully. She couldn't wait for tomorrow morning.
Brienne let her off the hook for now but would make sure to get Arya to talk about this Jon some more in the future..
***
That night at the dinner table Arya hugged her father. "Thanks, father," she whispered her little arms clinging to him. Ned smiled indulgently. "You welcome, Arya. You can thank me by paying attention and obeying Lady Brienne's orders, even if she makes you repeat a move a hundred times."
Arya's smile only grew wider at hearing her father's statement. "That's exactly how Jon said he learned to fight and Jon is the best."
Ned returned her smile and wished she wouldn't grow up too fast. He felt Catelyn touching his arm and turned his attention to her. "What was that all about?" He heard her ask, the dismay apparent in her tone.
"Arya will be given formal fight training starting tomorrow. As long as Lady Brienne of Tarth is here she will oblige us by performing this service for us. It is how she will earn her upkeep for the time being. I'm still looking into an official position for Loras. I hope Robb will return soon. He can shadow my son in his duties around Winterfell."
"How can I make Arya a fitting wife for a Lord if you train her like a warrior?"
"The two aren't mutually exclusive. Haven't you ever heard of Prince Oberyn's daughters? They are some of the fiercest fighters yet their beauty and elegance is well known."
Catelyn looked appalled at that. "You mean that Dornish Prince with his eight bastards? You dare compare my daughter's prospects with these bastards?!"
"Keep your voice down woman. This is no conversation for the dinner table." He softened his tone. "I am sorry, it is just …," he tried again. "Never mind, perhaps you would be willing to join me in my study after dinner? I have received some scrolls and there might be things of interest to you in there."
"Request for betrothals?" Catelyn's mood brightened immediately.
"Aren't there always? Yes, amongst other things. Has Sansa told you about that new book she is reading?" Ned thought it wise to bring up a neutral subject.
Later in his study, he sipped from his ale and waited patiently until his wife had settled herself and arranged her frock around her to her satisfaction. He offered her a glass of wine but she refused politely. He didn't insist any further. Best she kept a clear head.
"Lord Arryn died as you already know. The King is looking for a new Hand." Ned saw Catelyn eyes widen in interest. "I have received a scroll announcing his visit. He is coming to Winterfell. I do not have to spell out what that means."
"Will you accept, Ned? Will we live in King's Landing?" Catelyn tried to hide her excitement but didn't really succeed.
"I will accept but mind you, I intend to wait a few days before I give him my decision. You must promise me not to reveal anything beforehand." His voice had taken on the now familiar authority.
"Why would you do that, Ned?"
"Because I want to be in a strong position when I refuse to give my consent to an immediate betrothal between Prince Joffrey and Sansa. I will stall as long as I have to. If ever I am forced to give him a definite answer concerning the betrothal, it will be a refusal. Do not doubt that Catelyn."
"Would it be so terrible to betroth them?" Catelyn tried.
"She is too young. Besides you know that Prince Joffrey will never be King. Why would you insist on this betrothal? You just have to trust me when I say there are other things in play. Things I'd rather not tell you yet. It is too dangerous with the entire royal court coming here."
"You have worked yourself in a real bind here, Ned. Do you thing I like being the wife of a traitor all because of a single baby? Sometimes I hate the fact that he exists. You have lived most of your life in the shadows because of that boy."
"Enough woman! You do not know what you are talking about. First of all, do not speak that way of my royal nephew in my presence ever again. He will be your King sooner than you know it. Furthermore, you should know that Joffrey Baratheon isn't worthy to kiss Sansa's feet. You will soon see for yourself what kind of person he is. That's all I am going to say on this subject for now."
Even though her husband was in a bad mood, Catelyn didn't give in and defended her point of view. "You are spoiling all our children's chances. Do you know what it has come to? Do you know what Petyr suggested? He counsels that our Robb, the heir to the North, should marry a Frey." In her frustration and anger she betrayed the very thing she had kept a secret for all these years.
"Petyr? You mean Lord Baelish? Littlefinger? What has he to do in this discussion? Do not tell me woman that you have been corresponding with that man behind my back." Ned was getting angrier with every word his wife uttered.
"What if I have? He is my friend. We grew up together." She defended herself.
"He is a social climber, a leech, a conniver. If you only knew what plots we have had to thwart that were instigated by 'your friend' over the years. He would see us all beheaded if he could gain anything by it. Gods woman, that man is dangerous. Lord Reed has helped us escape several of his assassination attempts, most of them against me. Once he even targeted Robb at a time that he was still our only heir."
"I do not believe you. Petyr is our friend. You must be mistaken." A bit of doubt was creeping into her voice though.
"He is no friend of mine and you know that very well. Why else would you conceal your correspondence from me during all these years? How did you send your letters? Does he send you messengers? Are there spies in Winterfell I should know of?"
"No! I just had to leave them in a secret spot in Wintertown. Petyr had someone pick them up. I do not know who or when. Each time I went to the market I would check for a new message." She looked really guilty now.
"I want you to go and retrieve each and every letter he has ever written to you. Do not even think to hide a single one from me. I want you to go and fetch them now." He studied her and saw the recalcitrant look upon her face. "Better still, I will come with you. Then you will proceed to tell me every little piece of information you have fed him. To think the spy we were looking for in Winterfell could have been you! Do you realise what you have done, woman?" He had stopped every effort to reign in his temper and wasn't sorry for intimidating her.
"Ned you are scaring me." She pleaded openly now.
"I am scaring you? You are scaring the wits out of me! Catelyn, you have no idea what that man has done over the years." He literally dragged her out of the room.
Ned thought he had known what to expect but the amount of scrolls Catelyn presented him with defied his imagination. "Hells woman, did he write to you every moon during our entire marriage? There must be almost two hundred messages here. Did you send a reply each time?"
"No, I skipped sometimes. You will notice when you read his letters. He often complained he did not hear from me often enough. He also implied he wrote as often to Lysa and she always replied."
"Can you point me to the most recent ones? I will read those first." Ned was at a loss. He still couldn't believe his eyes.
Catelyn complied keeping a wary eye on her husband while he read Littlefinger's latest messages.
He asks quite a lot of you. Ned stated after he had read the five most recent ones. He threw them into her lap. "Now tell me exactly what you replied to them."
This was her chance to show her husband she had known what she was doing and had played Petyr as much as he had played her. "I can help you out there Ned. You will see I kept my answers vague. I always kept in mind that our heads would be forfeit if I let something important slip. She went back to the cupboard and took out larger sheets. I always drafted my messages before writing the final version so as to have an immaculate version to send. You know I am a stickler for cleanliness. Well as an act of good faith, I will let you read every word I send to Petyr."
Looking grim, Ned took possessions of these sheets and started reading. After a while he looked at her anxious face. "Thanks Catelyn, this reassures me slightly. I haven't read them all yet but I can already get some measure of things now. You did reveal just enough to keep him interested in corresponding with you, but nothing too harmful, at least not in these two I have read. A few things in there I would have preferred to keep from him but it could have been a lot worse."
"I am sorry, Ned. I will not write to him again." She seemed a bit mollified with his initial appraisal.
"No, I think you should keep writing to him. Only we will write your messages together and try to get him to reveal his schemes. He is no friend or ours, Catelyn. You need to believe me when I tell you this. I will take all of these scrolls into my chambers and tomorrow we will reconvene. I will then systematically expose every false statement and scheme in his letters so you can start to see your Petyr for what he really is. By the way, what did you make of the vague rumours he mentioned? The ones about the royal children including your dear Prince Joffrey being Lannister bastards?" he was curious now knowing her strong prejudice against bastards.
"Just vile rumours, Ned. Petyr states as much, rumours started by enemies of the Lannisters. The Prince is such a handsome boy. Everyone knows that he can't be some vile bastard."
"You and your southern views! Have you ever theorised about the concept of bastards? You condemn innocent babies and still pay your respects to the parents who are the ones to commit the sin. Jon is already wiser than you are by far. He wrote to me once that they should call the fathers bastards, not the innocent babes. And by the Gods woman, he has the right of it. If only you would let yourself think on it."
"Bastards are born with evil in them. They threaten trueborn children." She parroted her beliefs.
"No wonder they lash out if you treat them so unjustifiable. You start with an innocent baby, Catelyn. Try to think for yourself for once in your life and not repeat the words of some ignorant Septon. A child who has never done anything wrong in the world gets mistreated by everyone, is sometimes cast out completely and you wonder why it retaliates?
Bastards, damn I really hate that term, I mean children whose parents are not married, are to be pitied anyway. They stand to inherit nothing. You should give them at least a good education. Teach them a craft so they can earn their own living later, not unlike second sons. But I am getting off topic. What if the rumours were true? What if I accepted a betrothal between Sansa and Prince Joffrey and he turns out to be a bastard?"
"Gods forbid Ned, you are right to stall as long as possible." Catelyn's world was turned upside down by this notion. The golden Crown Prince could not possibly be an evil bastard? Surely these were just rumours?
Ned sighed. "I am going to leave you for now, Catelyn. I will need plenty of time to study all this. Help me carry the scrolls to my room if you will." He shook his head. It would be a long night for him.
Ned was astounded at the poison contained in Littlefinger's subtle letters. He began to understand some reactions of his wife better. Her stubborn views on some topics, the silent blame game she sometimes had going with him. The man had poisoned their marriage from afar. And not only that, he had subtly let it be known he would always be there for her if ever something happened to her husband, even going so far as suggesting marriage. No wonder Baelish had been plotting his death. The more he read, the angrier he got. He would have to talk to someone about this but to whom? His brother was still incommunicado beyond the Wall. Howard Reed was a possibility but with the King's imminent visit Ned could not leave. Perhaps Lord Reed would want to come here? Unlikely but he could always ask. He envied Jon his circle of advisers. Ned had only one person left here in Winterfell he trusted with his life, someone wise and neutral enough to give a valued opinion. He would go and speak to Maester Luwin. If necessary he would postpone the talk with his wife.
But first, he would have to write a letter to the Vale. He needed Lord Royce's assistance to thwart another of Littlefinger's schemes. Somehow Baelish's letters to his wife had given him an insight in the man's conniving mind. He wouldn't tell Catelyn this, but a welcome side effect of her irresponsible behaviour was that they had the opportunity to prevent losing the support of an entire Kingdom to their cause, one they had considered to be firmly on board.
He should make an effort to get his marriage back on track. He didn't want to grant Petyr even this small victory. Catelyn was his wife. He would ask the Maester to start giving her moon tea. It had been too long time since he had last bedded his wife. Good sex had always been an easy way to persuade her to his side. He realised he was not entirely blameless. Petyr Baelish would never have had such an influence on Catelyn if he had paid her more attention.