Jon found Robb in the courtyard talking to Theon. The two were joking as Robb's guard mounted up and prepared for the journey. From what merchants were saying, the youngest baratheon brother was marching very slowly towards King's Landing and was currently camped out at the Grassy Vale.
Robb council had been surprised with how slowly the younger Baratheon was moving. With a hundred thousand men under his banner, he could end the war within moments. But he was taking his time, camping for almost a week, if not more, before moving on. It was very perplexing and aggravating to Robb and his commanders who were actively bringing the fight to the enemy.
Theon, on the other hand, was heading northwest towards Seaguard, where he would take a ship to Pyke to treat with his father. Jon had heard a lot of grumbling from the likes of Lord Hawker and Lord Mallister about the fact that Theon was being sent home. They didn't trust the Greyjoy, and for good reason. Both families had dealt with ironborn raids for generations. There were centuries of bad blood built up in all parties.
But, Robb had held firm in his decision. Jon had spoken to him privately about the matter, and his brother's reply had been in typical Robb Stark fashion.
"Theon grew up with us in Winterfell. He felt our father's death just as keenly as we did. Do not worry, Jon. He will not let us down."
Jon, still a newcomer to Robb's council, had let the discussion end after that, not feeling that it was his place to try and counsel Robb on the matter. If his brother felt like Theon could be trusted, then that was enough for Jon.
"Jon," Robb called, beckoning him over. "I trust Eddard have spoken to you?"
Jon nodded. With Robb heading south, he had placed Eddard Karstark in control of the battle group in his absence. At Robb's request, the Karstark boy had approached Jon and asked him to fight with the others during battle, which Jon immediately accepted.
What he wanted now more than anything was to prove himself to the others. He had a chance to rise about his bastard name, and he was going to throw himself into it with everything he had. No matter what it meant.
"He spoke to me," Jon answered. "Are you prepared to meet with Renly?"
Robb nodded. "As well as I can be. Lords Bracken and Mallister have advised me on what Renly might say."
"Do you think he'll agree?" Jon asked.
"He'd be foolish not to," Theon answered arrogantly. "We're winning the war."
Robb shook his head. "We've won two battles, my friend. There is still a long way to go."
Jon crossed his arms. "We should have a plan if Renly decides not to recognize Robb's claim."
Robb patted Jon on the arm. "Agreed, but I won't think about that till I hear it come from Renly's mouth."
Jon turned to Theon, sticking his hand out. "Good luck," he said respectfully. "Hopefully talks with your father go well."
Theon looked surprised by Jon's gesture. The two hadn't always gotten along when they grew up together in Winterfell. Jon resented Theon for getting Robb in trouble and his general arrogant attitude, and Theon felt like he was above Jon's bastard status. The only thing they shared was their close relationship with Robb. He was the glue that kept the group together.
But after Jon's time at the Wall, he realized that Theon wasn't too bad of a person. He was cocky, but he had always treated Robb and the other Stark siblings like his own.
Theon clasped arms with Jon. "Thank you," he said. "I wish you good fortune in the battles to come."
Robb grinned.
"It only took me leaving and half of the realm to be at war for the two of you to finally make peace with each other." He joked. Robb embraced Jon, slapping him on the back before similarly embracing Theon. When he stepped back, he held them both at arm's length. "If we can make allies with Renly and the Iron Islands, then we will bring the Lannisters to their knees. After the war, I promise you that I will find positions for both of you in my court."
Theon grinned. "Somewhere in the south, where the whores aren't frozen would be nice." He joked.
Jon smiled as well. "We won't let you down, Robb."
Robb nodded. "I know," he said, patting the two on their shoulders once more before mounting up. At his signal, his small group of warriors fell in behind him as they rode out of Riverrun, heading south.
Theon nodded to Jon, mounting up as well. He was being escorted by a small group of Mallister soldiers who would make sure he got a ship to Pyke before returning to their lord here at Riverrun.
"Don't take all the gold Snow. Make sure to leave some for the Ironborn," he said.
Jon grinned. "There's plenty to go around. Just try not to sink."
Theon laughed and clapped his spurs into his horse, riding out the same way Robb did, leaving Jon alone in the courtyard.
Line Break
"Jon." Ser Brynden said, walking up behind the young warrior. Jon had just finished lunch and was walking to the square to spar. He hadn't had much time on the journey south to practice, and Sam certainly couldn't help him.
Thinking of Sam, Jon had been sad to see him go. The large boy had left the morning the messenger from King's Landing had arrived, escorted by ten stark bannermen garbed in leather armor, steel helms, and dark cloaks. When Sam had walked out of the keep, he seemed to have a spring in his step. He still looked a little nervous, but it was an exciting sort of nervousness. He was ready, if a little scared, to start a new phase of his life. One that he had control over.
Their goodbye had been awkward, as neither were able to fully articulate their sadness of the other leaving. After the promise of writing letters and potentially seeing each other again, Sam struggled into the saddle and began his journey surrounded by his protectors. As soon as they were out of the gate, Jon raced up to the battlements and stood there until the group was out of sight completely.
It was tough for Jon to see Sam go. They had forged a bond during their time riding through the North during the many nights and days they spent together. They had shared their pasts, a few of their secrets. Jon had tried to teach Sam how to fight, and in turn, Sam had taught Jon a few things to, mostly history.
Jon and Robb were brothers, but he had formed a similar bond with Sam. One that he would cherish and hold on to until the day came that they met again.
Jon turned, slightly bowing to the knight. "Ser Brynden." he greeted cautiously. Jon had made sure to keep a wide berth of the Tullys. Hoster Tully had at first been angry that Jon had been allowed into his castle, a walking symbol of shame for his favorite daughter, but both Robb and Brynden had talked down the ailing lord, telling him that Jon had arrived to serve Robb.
Besides Jon's initial encounter with Lady Stark when he had first arrived at the castle, the two hadn't been close enough to make contact with one another. Jon had taken his meals at the far ends of the tables, surrounded by squires and hedge knights while Robb and his mother had eaten with the other lords and ladies at the high table.
It was probably best that Jon kept his distance from the Lady of Winterfell. With Robb leaving and the death of Lord Stark, the last thing Jon wanted was to anger Lady Stark in any way. The poor woman had dealt with enough emotion for the last few days.
The knight nodded to Jon. "Where are you off to?"
"The practice yard," he answered respectfully. "Want to make sure my sword arm hasn't gotten rusty."
Ser Brynden nodded. "I'll accompany you. I am curious to see your skill."
Jon nodded and the two walked out into the yard, where the remaining members of Robb's battle guard were practicing with some younger nobles. When Jon and Ser Brynden exited the keep, a few looked up and nodded to the duo.
"Uncle, come to spar?" Edmure Tully asked, his chest heaving as he halted his fight with Patrek Mallister.
Ser Brynden shook his head. "I've come to see how the boy fights," he said, jerking a thumb towards Jon.
Edmure laughed, gesturing across from him. "Come on then lad. Let's see what you got?"
Jon glanced at the others, who were watching him with varying degrees of curiosity. They all knew Robb was a good warrior, above-average to be sure. They were all curious to see if Jon was as well.
Jon pulled his sword from his belt and leaned it against the wall before grabbing a blunt practice blade from the rack. He stepped into the square, swinging the sword to get a feel for the weight. After wearing valyrian steel, he needed to readjust himself to heavier steel.
When Jon had a feel for his weapon, he dropped into his stance, holding his sword in front of him with both hands. Edmure simply smirked and got into his stance, holding up his shield and laying the flat of his blade on the top edge.
"No shield Snow?"
"Don't use one," Jon replied, keeping his eyes locked in on Edmure's. One of the first rules Ser Rodrik had taught him was to watch his opponent's eyes. They would give the first indication of an attack.
With a grunt, Edmure leaped forward, thrusting at Jon, who reacted on instinct. He parried the blade and stepped to his left, finding himself behind Edmure. He lashed out at the exposed back, but Tully swiftly turned and brought his shield up, stopping the attack. He was no longer smirking and had a look of fierce determination on his face, probably mirroring Jon's own.
He charged forward again, keeping Jon in front of him as he pushed the bastard back. Jon parried all of Edmure's strikes, stepping back and out of the way whenever his opponent tried to shield charge him again. The two went around and around the yard, Edmure following Jon like a bull after a red flag.
Jon continued to bide his time. Edmure was a good swordsman, but Jon realized pretty soon into the fight that he was better. Now, he was just allowing his opponent to tire himself before Jon took over.
After a few minutes of Edmure's all-out attack, weariness had taken hold of the auburn-haired man, slowing his attacks, taking the power out of them. Edmure realized this too late and tried to disengage, taking a few steps back, but Jon was on him in an instant.
The Bastard of Winterfell stepped forward, his sword coming down at his opponent's head. Edmure brought his shield up to block the attack and cursed quietly as he felt the power of the strike. Jon was not as tired as Edmure, and he showed it now. Jon's sword came alive in his hands as he drove Edmure back in a flurry of attacks, his sword a spinning wheel of light.
The Heir to Riverrun did all he could to defend, but he was just barely getting his sword or shield in place before Jon struck another undefended part of Edmure's body. He struck at the arms, legs, torso, head. It was like fighting a kraken, and each of the eight arms had a sword.
Finally, Jon simply beat the sword out of Edmure's hand and leveled his blade at the man's throat. Both fighters were breathing heavily, but it was easy to tell that Edmure was breathing more heavily.
After a moment, the two men nodded and Jon dropped his sword back down to his side, leaning on it.
Edmure shook his head tiredly. "Not bad," he admitted, holding out a hand.
"You fight well, Lord Edmure," Jon said, grasping arms with the man before they walked towards the others.
Edmure chuckled. "Not as well as you. I should've known that you were waiting for me to tire myself out."
Jon shrugged. "Just timing," he said awkwardly.
Edmure patted Jon on the back. "Perhaps," he said, walking off to get some water.
Jon turned back to find the other members of the battle guard looking at him. They all had wide grins on their faces. Eddard Karstark stood up, his practice sword in his hand. He smiled fiercely.
"Up for another bout?"
Line Break
That night, Jon sat with the battle guard, joking and talking like they had known each other for years. Jon had sparred with nearly every member of the group, beating most of them. The only one to beat him was Ser Wendel Manderly, but Jon was dead tired after facing the likes of Eddard Karstark, Brandon Hawker, and Ser Perwyn Frey.
Even still, Jon's skill with a blade and humility after winning had won over the group of nobles. Even Ser Brynden, who had strangely stayed to watch all of Jon's bouts after he defeated Edmure, looked at him with a small amount of approval and respect. Something that spoke volumes to Jon.
"Jon, do you think King Robb will come to an agreement with Renly?" Owen Norrey asked as he tore into half a chicken.
Jon shrugged. "I'm not sure. I hope they can. If Lord Bracken is right then we know what we get with Renly. Stannis and his foreign god worry me."
"Why should we care about the bugger?" Brandon Hawker asked gruffly, his platter filled high with meat and bread. On either side of the second son were his brothers; Eyan and Erik.
The three Hawker brothers were all different and unique. Erik Hawker was tall and muscular and shared his father's ability to easily take command of a situation. Eyan Hawker was shorter than both his brothers, with iron-like muscles in his arms and back, built up after years of using a longbow. The third son of Roland Hawker used a blackwood longbow with a massive draw weight that many men struggled with. But not Eyan. Jon had seen him use the bow when the Hawkers had visited Winterfell for feasts in the past. The lad had calmly hit the bull's eye after bull's eye from distances that staggered Jon.
The second son of the War Eagle was a mountain of a man, bigger and tall than his father and brothers. Well over two meters tall, full from foot to head with muscle and brawn, he was the very image of what a northerner was to most of Westeros. In training, he wielded a massive, double-bladed battle axe with frightening ease. Jon doubted that he could hold the axe for a few minutes, and the man seemed to never tire with it in his hands.
Jon would count himself lucky to have any by his side in a fight.
"Because a young Stannis Baratheon held out against impossible odds when under siege by the Reach during Robert's Rebellion. He also defeated the Ironborn on the waves off Fair Isle during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Not an easy task I tell you." Ser Brynden said, walking up to the group. "He is a very dangerous man. And if he's become a fanatic to some red god, then we best keep our eye on him."
"Ser Brynden, what do we owe the pleasure?" Lucas Blackwood asked curiously.
"I need Jon for a moment." The Blackfish said, gesturing for Jon to follow him.
Jon raised an eyebrow but got out of his seat to follow the older knight. Ser Brynden led Jon out of the hall and through the castle before arriving at Lord Hoster's solar. Ser Brynden unlocked the door and pushed it open.
"In," he said.
When Jon walked in, Ser Brynden closed the door behind him and stood in front of it.
Jon turned to look at him, feeling uneasy with the knight's manner.
"Have I done something?" Jon asked.
Ser Brynden shook his head. "You're a curious person, Jon," he said, walking over to a small table where a pitcher of wine and two cups were sitting. He poured himself a cup and glanced at Jon.
"Wine?"
Jon shook his head. "No, I'm alright."
Ser Brynden shrugged. "Fine," he grunted, taking a deep drink. "Do you know why I asked you here?"
Jon shook his head. "I don't."
"I was intrigued to see you fight." Ser Brynden explained. "When Edmure challenged you, I was curious to see how you would react. When I saw you fight, I was mildly impressed."
Jon shifted slightly. "Thank you," he said awkwardly.
Ser Brynden scoffed. "You did well in the yard, lad, but have you ever been in a real battle? With the prospect of death all around you?" He shook his head. "Survive that first then we'll see."
Jon was now truly confused. "Forgive me, Ser Brynden, but what did you want to talk to me about?"
Ser Brynden frowned, taking another drink of wine. "Ned Stark is the most honorable man I've ever met," he said. "When he married Cat, the thought never crossed my mind that he would have a bastard. With his older brother Brandon, there was a chance that it could happen, but Ned never was the type. But, here you are."
Jon sighed. Another person who would blame him for a birth he had no control over. "Ser Brynden…." he began, but the Blackfish cut him off.
"Save your breath lad," he said. "I have no problem with your birth. I've been a soldier for more years than you've been alive. I've seen men hundreds of miles from their home and families give in to the temptation of a night with a stranger, someone to take their mind off death and chaos. I've seen men in your position, bastards, who have risen above their name to make something of themselves. I know Cat resents you and has told me as such, but you've proven to be a humble, respectful young man who has proven to be quite skillful."
Jon reddened slightly. "Thank you, Ser Brynden."
Ser Brynden nodded slowly. "After I saw you beat Edmure, I thought you got lucky. You fought like a man twice your age. Perhaps it was your own natural ability. Robb is a very good fighter, just as Ned was. Not a natural, but certainly well enough to hold his own against any man. You, you have natural talent. The way you swing your sword, the way you move, the way you read your opponent, it reminds me of a man I knew a long time ago. He died 20 years ago."
Jon's breath caught in his throat. There was no way the Blackfish knew who his father was, certainly not by the way he fought.
"Who?"
"Ser Arthur Dayne." Ser Brynden grunted. "The man was an artist with the blade. Fast, powerful, agile. He was the Mad King's most dangerous kingsguard, with the possible exception of Ser Barristan. I then remembered a rumor going around at the Tourney of Harrenhal, a potential courtship between a shy northerner and a fiery lady-in-waiting."
Jon gave a mental sigh of relief. He had no idea that Jon was Rhaegar's son. He shook his head, faking disbelief.
"Ser Brynden, what are you trying to say?"
"It never made sense to me that Ned would sully his marriage to Cat with a bastard. That is, unless, he had the child before his marriage." Ser Brynden explained. "The Daynes have always been natural swordsmen. It makes sense that the son of Ashara Dayne and Ned Stark is the same."
Jon opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked down at his boots, trying to think of something to say, but Ser Brynden beat him to it.
"You don't have to say anything lad," he grunted. "I've always wondered why Ned did what he did. After seeing you fight, it all makes sense."
Jon nodded slowly. "I understand," he said quietly. "Ser Brynden, I would ask that you don't tell anyone this."
Ser Brynden nodded. "It's your story. Yours alone to tell. I wanted to let you know that I know."
Jon nodded. "Thank you, Ser Brynden. I appreciate that."
Ser Brynden drained the last of his wine, walking out of the room. "Best get a good night's sleep. We ride tomorrow morning towards the Golden Tooth. We have work to do."