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Chapter Text

Ned Stark sat in his solar, the candlelight flickering as the cold winds howled beyond the thick stone walls of Winterfell. The raven had arrived two weeks earlier in the evening, bearing the royal seal. Robert was coming. His childhood friend, his King, the man he had bled beside in battle. And yet, Ned could not summon joy at the thought of his arrival.

Jon Arryn was dead. The man who had been like a second father to both him and Robert, the steady hand that kept the realm in balance, was gone. His wife, Lysa, whispered of murder and pointed fingers toward the Lannisters who coiled around the Iron Throne.

If Robert intended to name him Hand of the King, he would be thrust into that world of scheming and deceit. It was a world he did not belong to, a world far removed from the honor and justice he upheld in the North.

His heart warred within him. His duty to his friend clashed with his love for his home. Winterfell was not just merely stone and timber, it was his family. His wife, Catelyn, their children. He would have to leave them for the treachery of King's Landing. Robert was his friend and King whom he had not seen since the Greyjoy Rebellion. He had chosen Ned before his own brothers.

Ned's wife urged him to accept the position and also look for Southern betrothals for their daughters. Sansa was the picture of a perfect lady, raised in the South’s ways, poised for a noble match that would elevate their house. Arya, however, was different. Wild, untamed, with the spirit of a wolf rather than a courtly dove. He worried for her, just as he worried for all his children.

Robb Stark his son and heir had all the traits for a good lord kind, dutiful, brave and honourable, destined to rule North one day. Ned wished to marry him to a Northern Lady. Among his younger sons Brandon wanted to be a knight like of the songs and tales while Rickon who was still too young just wanted to play with his direwolf Shaggydog. 

Then, there was Jon Snow.

And speaking of his other boy Jon, he had too much of wolfsblood in him. Sometimes he also showed slight madness of the other side of his family. The boy used to had strange dreams as a kid.

The more he grew, the more he showed the wolfsblood. The same wildness that flew through Ned's elder brother and sister. He reminded Ned too much of his lost siblings. Brandon, fierce and reckless; Lyanna, headstrong and wild. Sometimes, he thought he glimpsed something more something darker.

As Jon grew old, people in Winterfell started calling him Brandon reborn, the same mischief, brashness, arrogance but thankfully not the temper. Jon Snow was calculating. Jon had always asked about his mother, seeking answers Ned could never give.

And when he ceased asking, when he retreated into that quiet distance, Ned felt the weight of his silence more than he ever felt his words. Since then there was a strange coldness between them. Ned tried to tell himself that he would tell the boy about his mother when he's old enough, but everytime his courage failed.

When Jon was eleven namedays old he asked Ned about his future seeking to carve his own path. When Ned couldn't give him a proper answer, Jon asked to leave for the East to travel as a sellsword when he's older. Ned denied him, Essos was dangerous and anything could happen to him there.

He instead offered Jon to become a Lord in the Gift. The boy told him that it was too far North and instead asked for Sea Dragon Point—a peninsula on the western coast surrounded by forests west of the Wolfswood or Moat Cailin— a ruined fortress, but one of great strategic importance. A place to rebuild, to create something of his own.

Sea Dragon point could have been made a trading port on the Western coast. Also a defense point against the Ironborn. Though they were unlikely to be a problem in the foreseeable future. There strength was broken and Balon Grejyoy won't dare with his last son as hostage in Winterfell. Despite this, giving it to Jon would have become complicated.

Catelyn and the Tullys would no doubt argue why it must not be given to his tureborns first. The Manderlys would likely oppose it as they have long enjoyed being the only major port in the North and won't like competition despite it being on the other coast.

Honestly a small voice inside Ned's mind had whispered that he could have handled all of them but instead he was just looking for excuses. A part of him believed that it was the truth. He had no doubt that Jon would've flourished there. Being a Lord of the only port on the western coast of the North meant Jon being in frequent contact with the south and a centre of attention.

He wanted Jon to kept as far as from the South. For his own selfishness and fear or for Jon's safety. His mind couldn't tell.

So the decision was made. Jon would get Moat Cailin. The entrance of the North through the Neck. He would be away from attention being there. Ned chose the easy way out. As he had always done in the case of Jon.

It was a good idea. Ned internally kicked himself for not thinking it a few years ago. Catelyn and the Tullys raised some issues but he quelled their worries. In this way Jon would have a castle of his own, would be safe there and his promise would be kept.

Catelyn remained upset with him for a long time due to her irrational fear of Jon usurping Winterfell. Jon and Robb were as close as brothers could get. Jon would rather hurt himself than harm Robb. 

For the next two to three years he made Jon and Robb travel throughout the North. From the windswept mountains to the deep forests, they traveled, forging bonds, gathering knowledge. From Bear Island to White Harbor, from the Last Hearth to the Barrowlands, from the Wall to the Neck, from the Karrhold to the Dreadfort. They even visited the Mountain Clans. 

While completing the tour, the wolfsblood in Jon had enhanced. He was taller than Robb, handsome while having the Stark look, very good at sword for his age with the potential of becoming a great swordsman, bold and charismatic.

By the time he reached fifteenth nameday he was a good trouble, everyday involved in some new mischief with Robb and Theon Greyjoy. He also started visiting brothels in Wintertown with Theon. Robb was stopped by his mother's hand.

Ned tried to tame Jon's activities which made him even bolder and left Ned helpless. Nevertheless the boy never ignored his lessons with Maester Luwin. He was a good student. Even learned High Valyrian from the Maester. Jon was intelligent and eager to learn new things. He even learnt some of the old tongue from the wildling women who were captured and later became part of Winterfell household.

Despite all this he always made time to secretly train little Arya in arms. Catelyn didn't allow their younger daughter to train with Winterfell's Master-at-arms Ser Rodrik Cassel with the intention of making her a proper lady. So she took it up with Jon. Ned knew but stayed silent and allowed them to continue secretly.

The work for Moat Cailin would still take some time to fully complete and Jon would start his own house there. Ned couldn't stop but love the boy. The days ahead would be heavy. He knew it deep in his bones.

He rose, his breath misting in the cold air as he made his way to the Godswood, seeking counsel in the silence and quietness of the old gods. 

Chapter Text

He was walking in the snow. The cold was unnatural. His blood shivered. The land around him was covered in heavy snow as far as the eyes could see. He continued walking ahead when suddenly a black bird flew above him. Jon stopped to look at the bird. It seemed to be a  raven who's eyes looked unnatural. It landed on a nearby rock. He turned to follow the raven when suddenly it started squeaking and cawing. Jon stopped in his track. The bird then shouted "SNOW" again and again. "ICE" "FIRE" "FIRE" "ICE". "BLOOD" "BLOOD" "BLOOD" and then "PRINCE". Jon didn't even had time to grasp what that meant when suddenly there were flames around him. He expected to be burned by them but he didn't. The flames kept engulfing him and gave strange warmth. He shouted. His vision blurred. 

Jon Snow woke in his bed in Winterfell sweating. Another strange dream. There was a time when he used to tell others about his dreams but they always dismissed them as just childish dreams. Jon knew better. These were more than normal dreams. Now he kept these dreams to himself not sharing with anyone. Ghost his young direwolf made a silent whine beside. Jon rubbed his hand over his soft fur. The mute direwolf looked at him with his blood coloured eyes and gave licks to Jon's face. He laughed and scratched behind Ghost's ears. Looking outside the windows he saw dawn was about to break.

The King would arrive today at Winterfell. The Demon of the Trident. The man who shattered Rhaegar Targaryen's rubies and ended the battle. Jon had heard that Robert Baratheon had gotten fat these days. But still there was some excitement to see the warrior the King was or would still be. He would be coming with his Lannister wife Cersei Lannister, the three royal children, his Kingsguards and half the court. The Kingsguard had two of the best swordsmen in Westeros, Ser Barristan Selmy 'The Bold' and Ser Jamie Lannister 'The Kingslayer'. He didn't knew much about others but was looking forward to meet these two.

Jon sat down at the breakfast table, put some boiled eggs, bread and cheese in his plate with some Ale to wash it down. A serving girl Talla greeted him and Jon gave her a teasing smile with a wink. The girl blushed red. He gave Ghost some meat to eat. After a few moments Robb joined him at the breakfast table.

Robb took his seat with a relaxed ease, yet his eyes carried the weight of responsibility even in the bright morning light. He settled down beside Jon with a clink of his wooden cup, offering a quiet greeting. "Morning, brother," he said, his voice low and measured.

"Morning, Robb. Why so sullen brother? Did Grey Wind ate your sleep? The mighty Robert Baratheon from Lord Stark's stories is coming, at least show some excitement. You might even get the princess for a bride." Jon japed. They both laughed.

"Oh shut up Jon. The princess is still a child, about the age of Arya. Listen now, the King would ask father to be the next Hand of the King. As much as he would like to stay in the North, father won't be able to deny his duty to his friend and King. With him gone South, I would rule the North in his stead. Despite having learnt so much, I still feel somewhat unprepared and young to take the role. Our days of fun are coming to an end." Robb said.

Jon shrugged, "Well my Lord Stark, I didn't knew that you were thinking so hard. So I would have to carry on our activities with Theon alone. But don't you worry Robb, we would still sneak you out for our adventures from time to time."

"This is serious Jon. Father will likely send you to Moat Cailin to oversee the development of the fortress. You would spend most of your time in the Neck." Robb interjected and then said in a mocking tone, "After all you will be guarding the entrance of the North for me. Lordly duties await both of us brother."

"That doesn't mean there would no adventure in the Neck. I can call Lord Reed and visit the Greywater Watch. I should take Arya with me to Moat Cailin atleast she won't bore me. But Lady Stark would wish to snap my neck in that case." Jon continued, "Enough of all these talks. Let's focus on the King's arrival. I was thinking of asking Robert Baratheon for a spar." 

Robb coughed on his food and laughed, "Brother you are crazy." seeing his serious expression Robb carried on, "Okay I will make a bet with Theon on whether he would give you a spar or not. Now lets finish our food. Mother wants us to look clean today and be on our best behavior." 

Jon finished his food while chatting with Robb and then went for a bath. Today was going to be a long day.

The visitors poured through the castle gates in a river of gold and silver and polished steel, three hundred strong, a pride of bannermen and knights, of sworn swords and freeriders. Over their heads a dozen golden banners whipped back and forth in the northern wind, emblazoned with the crowned stag of Baratheon.

There came Ser Jaime Lannister with hair as bright as beaten gold, and the man with the terrible burned face would be Sandor Clegane 'The Hound' brother of 'The Mountain' Gregor Clegane. The tall boy beside him could only be the crown prince, and that stunted little man behind them was surely the Imp, Tyrion Lannister.

Yet the huge man at the head of the column, flanked by two knights in the snow-white cloaks of the Kingsguard, vaulted off the back of his warhorse with a roar, and crushed Lord Stark in a bone-crunching hug.

“Ned! Ah, but it is good to see that frozen face of yours.” The king looked him over top to bottom, and laughed. “You have not changed at all.”

His father Ned Stark said only, “Your Grace. 
Winterfell is yours.”

By then the others were dismounting as well, and grooms were coming forward for their mounts. Robert Baratheon's queen, Cersei Lannister, entered on foot with her younger children. The wheelhouse in which they had ridden, a huge double-decked carriage of oiled oak and gilded metal pulled by forty heavy draft horses, was too wide to pass through the castle gate.

No sooner had those formalities of greeting been completed then the king had said to his host, “Take me down to your crypt, Eddard. I would pay my respects.”

The Queen had frown on her face hearing it and protested. King Robert looked at her, and her twin brother Jaime Lannister took her quietly by the arm, and she had said no more.

The King was a great disappointment to Jon. His father Lord Stark had talked of him often: the peerless Robert Baratheon, demon of the Trident, the fiercest warrior of the realm, a giant among princes. Jon saw only a fat man, red-faced under his beard, sweating through his silks. He walked like a man half in his cups.

He had heard that King had gone fat over the years but Jon didn't expect him to be like that.

Theon Greyjoy who was standing behind said and laughed, "Well Snow, If the King spars with you. He could just simply crush from the amount of weight he has on his body."

"Oh quiet Squid, so Robb told you." Jon replied.

"Yes and whatever happens its going to be fun. You truly are mad Jon, I heard the Imp too is fond of drinking and whoring. A tour to Wintertown would do all of us some good. You haven't gone out in days." Theon continued.

"Ahh not all of us are without work like you Lord Reaper and the mighty Kraken of Wintertown Theon Greyjoy. I wouldn't be surprised if the whores choose the Imp over you." Jon said with smirk and left Theon behind in the courtyard.

The Great Hall of Winterfell was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. Its grey stone walls were draped with banners. White, gold, crimson: the direwolf of Stark, Baratheon’s crowned stag, the lion of Lannister. A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations. 

He settled back in his place on the bench among the younger squires and drank. The sweet, fruity taste of summerwine filled his mouth and brought a smile to his lips.

It was the fourth hour of the welcoming feast laid for the king. Jon’s brothers and sisters had been seated with the royal children, beneath the raised platform where Lord and Lady Stark hosted the king and queen.

His lord father had escorted the queen. She was as beautiful as men said. A jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair, its emeralds a perfect match for the green of her eyes. His father helped her up the steps to the dais and led her to her seat, but the queen never so much as looked at him. Jon could see through that false smile behind her beautiful face.

Jon was more fascinated by the Lannister brothers. The Lion and the Imp; Ser Jaime Lannister twin to Queen Cersei, tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. Jamie Lannister looked like a knight straight from Sansa's songs. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and whispered “Kingslayer” behind his back. Jon found it hard to look away from him after the disappointment from seeing Robert Baratheon. This is what a king should look like, he thought to himself as the man passed.

Tyrion Lannister was as ugly as his siblings were pretty, but nevertheless was said to be smarter and intelligent, with what he lacked in height he made in wits. He was a dwarf, half his brother’s height, his head was too large for his body, with a brute’s squashed-in face beneath a swollen shelf of brow. One green eye and one black one peered out from under a lank fall of hair so blond it seemed white. Jon watched him with fascination. 

Besides Jon was sitting his uncle Benjen Stark and Theon Greyjoy who was about to get deep in his cups. Under the table was Ghost hidden quietly and enjoying the feast he gave him. Benjen enquired him about Moat Cailin and his ideas for future. Jon in turn asked about the situation at the Wall. About the new King-beyond-the-wall Mance Rayder. They talked about the deserter who was beheaded the day they found the direwolves, about the stories of the Others coming from beyond the wall, the things he learnt from the wildling women in Winterfell and the poor condition of the Night's Watch. 

The feast was in full flow, Jon smiled and stood up from his place and made his way towards the King who was currently fondling the serving girls. As Jon continued in his path, he felt Lord Stark's eyes on him with uncertain tension. Jon stopped at some distance from the King and knelt before him. Looking upwards towards the King, with a little loud voice Jon simply said, "Your Grace, I would like to have a spar with you."

For a suspended moment, silence descended. The King, momentarily taken aback by the audacity of this challenge, let his hand fall mid-gesture. A spark of amusement danced in his eyes as he regarded Jon "Spar, you say boy?" he intoned, his tone a curious blend of mocking laughter and the gravitas of a man who ruled by might and whim alike. He curiously looked towards Jon likely assessing his identity.

The Queen had a confused but amused expression on her face. Tyrion Lannister was smirking, clearly relishing the unpredictable challenge. Robb looked towards him with his gaze expressing both concern and excitement. Bran had an enthusiastic look on his face while Arya’s eyes widened in awe, a silent admiration glimmering amid her typical defiance, on the other side the Crown Prince, Joffrey Baratheon, steamed visibly, his anger evident in a scowl. Jamie Lannister had a grin on his face. Amid these, Lady Stark’s glare was sharp and disapproving, and Lord Stark shifted nervously between his son and the King, as if weighing the potential consequences of this audacious contest.

For a moment the King looked remained silent but then descended into a roaring laughter. "Oh Ned! Ha! the bastard of yours has got your brother Brandon's balls. The wolfsblood like you Starks say. A spar you want boy. A spar you shall have. Tomorow at the training yard. That's why I love the Northmen, fun and straight to the point, much better than those prissy southern flatterers"

Before the echoes of the King’s laughter could entirely subside, Ned Stark spoke in between, "Your Grace, I object. Jon is but a boy..."

"Oh shut up Ned we were also young once. Let him have his spar. Long time since a duelled with a Stark. Even Joffrey would learn from your boy as his mother always tries to keep him behind her skirts. My decision is final Ned." Robert roared.

"Of course Your Grace." Jon's father finished.

"Thanks for the opportunity Your Grace. I would look forward to the spar tomorrow." Jon finally said and  with that, he rose from his kneeling posture and moved deliberately toward the great hall’s exit, leaving behind a murmuring crowd with a triumphant smile and made his way out of the hall with Ghost trailing behind him.

Jon went to the courtyard with the intention to catch some fresh air. He stayed there for a while as heard footsteps and saw a small figure coming towards him. The Imp of Casterly Rock, Tyrion Lannister. His steps small and shaky. His mismatched eyes went from Jon to Ghost.

“Is this one of the direwolves I’ve heard so much of?” the Dwarf asked.

"Yes." Jon answered 

“A very quiet wolf,” Tyrion Lannister continued.

"His name is Ghost. Never makes a sound." replied Jon.

"A very apt name. When I was a child, I wished to have a dragon. Though a direwolf is no dragon it's still a wonderful creature. There weren't any direwolves South of the Wall for a long time." the Lannister carried on.

"And now there are six. Tell me why are you here Lannister. Not enjoying the feast?" Jon asked with amusement.

"Does my presence offend you such Snow? That act of yours in the feast made most of us thoroughly entertained. You are certainly a brave and I must say lucky bastard. Asking the King for a spar in front of everyone. You live in your father's castle. Most bastards don't get that. And you are also getting a Lordship and castle of your own before Stark's younger trueborn children or so I've heard. How many bastards can boast of such things? Let me give you some counsel bastard. Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.” the Imp spoke.

"Didn't ask for your counsel Imp. And what do you know of being a bastard?" Jon said with a snicker coming from his mouth.

“All dwarfs are bastards in their father’s eyes.” replied the Imp and made his way out of the courtyard. 

Jon stood there for a few more moments and then made his way towards his chambers. Sleep didn't come to him easily that night. In the little sleep he got, Jon watched the world through Ghost's eyes.

Chapter Text

Jon woke up after the sun had already rose. Ghost was outside with his pack. In his dreams he was his wolf. The stories of wargs and skinchangers came to his mind. The wildling women know far more about it. He would have to talk with them later. The King had agreed for the spar last night at the feast. With the amount of wine Robert Baratheon drank, the spar won't come before afternoon. 

As Jon made his way towards the great hall, everyone was eyeing him with amusement. Some southern knights were sitting at the table chatting with each other. One of them looked still in his cups. Jon saw Jory Cassel, Captain of Household Guard at Winterfell sitting at the other side with a few Winterfell men at arms and joined them.

"Morning, Jon." Jory greeted as soon as he saw him.

"Morning, Jory." Jon replied, then stuffed some food in his plate and started eating.

"You know your Lord Father was not happy with you yesterday." Jory said but Jon didn't give any reaction and continued eating. "Ser Rodrik is waiting for you in the training yard. Told me to remind you that you should have told him beforehand. Wouldn't want his best lad to make a fool of himself." Jory resumed with a smile.

Jon finished eating and made his way towards the training yard. He was intercepted by Robb. 

"I am going to see Ser Rodrik. You should join me. We have a spar to win today." Jon said.

They made their way towards Ser Rodrik who saw them from a distance and brought two sparring swords. He turned towards Jon and threw him one. "You would be facing the King today boy. Don't let yourself disappoint me." Ser Rodrik said.

Ser Rodrik had trained Jon since he was a child. Rodrik Cassel was a skilled and hard master-at-arms. Offered them no mercy and taught them different forms. From Northern to the way of southern knights. Robert Baratheon was a semi-giant of a man so Ser Rodrik drilled him accordingly. They trained for a quite some time, but not much as to not exhaust Jon.

The time for the duel came quickly. The training yard was getting filled by people. Ser Rodrik had brought a light plate armor for Jon from the armory. Robb and Uncle Benjen helped him put on the armor. Arya and Bran came to him asked him to beat the King. Jon smiled towards Bran and ruffled Arya's hair. Next came Sansa, Lady Stark's favorite daughter who usually called him half brother and kept a distance from him, now surprisingly told him that he had her favor. Beside her was Jeyne Poole who wished him good luck with color rising in her cheeks. Lady Stark had no expression on her face and didn't say anything. Jon thought it was better that way. His father Lord Stark gave him a simple nod and told him to be at his best. Theon patted Jon on his shoulder and stood beside Robb.

A horn sounded and the King arrived in the yard. He was clad in very light armor. The white cloaked Kingsguards following him. Jon had half expected him to be drunk here as well but the King was surprisingly sober. The Queen followed behind with her golden haired children. Lord Stark went ahead and greeted the King. Jon followed and bowed towards the King. "Your Grace", he said.

A squire golden haired, likely a Lannister came carrying a massive warhammer with blunted tip and edges. The King roared, cursed the Lannister squire and moved towards Jon. "Ready boy!!" The King shouted. 

The training yard had never felt more suffocating. The assembled crowd stood in tense silence, waiting for the contest to begin. Jon steadied his breathing beneath his helm, tightening his grip on his blunted sword. His shield felt solid in his other hand, a reassuring weight against the uncertainty of what was about to unfold.

Across from him loomed King Robert Baratheon—once the mightiest warrior of his age, now softened with time but no less formidable. Even with the extra weight he carried, he stood a towering six and a half feet, his light armor barely concealing the broad frame beneath. He wore no helm, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto Jon’s with the sharpness of old battlefields long past.  

A horn sounded, and the duel began.  

Robert came at him like a charging bull, his blunted warhammer swinging in a wide arc. Jon barely had time to react before steel met steel—his shield rattled as he caught the blow, the force traveling through his arm and nearly knocking him off balance.

The sheer power behind the strike was humbling. The King’s strength hadn’t left him, even if his movements were not as quick as they would have been once.  

Jon danced back, avoiding another crushing blow that would have sent him sprawling. He needed to play to his advantages—speed, precision, and patience. He couldn’t trade strikes with Robert, not when each swing of that warhammer carried enough force to shatter his guard. He moved swiftly, circling, keeping his defenses tight, looking for openings.  

Robert grinned, unfazed. “You move well, boy,” he bellowed, swinging again. Jon blocked with his shield, angling it so the blow slid off rather than landing fully. His arm still vibrated with the impact, but he recovered fast enough to strike back quick thrusts, testing the King’s defenses, forcing him to react rather than dictate the pace.  

For long minutes, the duel continued like a storm—Robert’s relentless swings crashing against Jon’s meticulous defenses. Jon was fast, slipping out of range just before the hammer could land a decisive strike, yet never retreating entirely.

He was disciplined, countering every lumbering movement with well-placed blows, forcing the King to exert more effort than he likely expected.  

Then came his opportunity.  

Robert lifted his warhammer for another powerful downswing, but Jon was already moving, sidestepping fluidly, striking out with his sword in a controlled arc. He landed the blow against Robert’s shoulder, the blunted edge clanging against the armor. The King grunted, shifting back from the hit, and Jon pressed forward.  

A second strike, low to the ribs. Another to the leg.  

Robert staggered, briefly unbalanced. For the first time, murmurs rippled through the crowd—Jon Snow was on the verge of beating the King of the Seven Kingdoms.  

Jon felt his pulse quicken, his lungs burning with exertion. He had come so close. He had fought brilliantly, matching power with precision, controlling the flow of the battle. He only needed one more opening—one more misstep from Robert—to force him into yielding.  

But Robert Baratheon did not yield easily.  

With a roar, he reset his stance, shifting with the experience of a hundred battles. His warhammer swung in a feint, drawing Jon’s shield up—only for Robert to slam his weight into Jon with brutal force. Jon stumbled back, his balance stolen, and in that crucial heartbeat, Robert seized control.  

The hammer came down.  

Jon managed to block—but the sheer force sent him reeling. Again Robert swung, his blows no longer sluggish, but unrelenting, fueled by stubborn pride. Each impact drained Jon’s strength, each step back stole his ability to retaliate.  

His limbs screamed in protest, exhaustion creeping into every muscle. His footing slipped slightly, just enough for Robert to press forward, hammer crashing against his shield in a deafening strike. Jon barely held on.  

Robert advanced, hammer poised for another brutal strike.  

Jon breathed deeply, staring up at his opponent, his body aching, his arms trembling with fatigue. 

So, with the crowd watching in silence, Robert bellowed another blow and this time Jon's already half shattered shield fell. His steps faltered and the next blow came on the hilt of his sword.

His blade flew from his hand and Jon crashed on the ground. The King took a step ahead and pointed his hammer at Jon's chest. Jon inhaled sharply, and with heavy heart, spoke the words that marked the end of the battle.  

“I yield.”  

Robert lowered his hammer, breathing heavily, sweat rolling down his face. He studied Jon for a long moment, then nodded in respect.  

The spar was over.  

But Jon Snow had proved himself worthy of standing against a King.

There were cheers coming from the crowd. Jon laid his back on the ground removed his helm and laughed silently. Robb and Theon came towards him to help him get up. 

Jon's whole body seemed too tired. He heard the King say while laughing and holding a goblet of wine in his hand, "Your boy has got fire in him Ned. Nearly whacked me. It was almost like facing that dammed dragon on the Trident that day." 

Just as Jon had got up, King Robert Baratheon came towards him once again. In his booming voice he said, "This isn't over yet Jon Snow. Kneel now. Kingslayer give me your sword."

Jon kneeled in front of the King. There was almost silence and gasps in the yard.

Robert Baratheon brought the tip of the sword, rested it on Jon's shoulder and roared.

"In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave!"

"In the name of the Father I charge you to be just!"

"In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent!"

"In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women!"

"In the name of the Crone, I charge you to wise!"

"In the name of the Smith, ..................!"

"In the name of the Stranger, .................!"

"Jon Snow, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?" 

"I do Your Grace. By the old gods and the new." Jon said.

"Then arise. Ser Jon of House Stark. A knight of the Seven Kingdoms!" For a moment Jon stood still and when he rose Robert Baratheon tightly hugged him, tapped on his back and walked back towards the inside of the castle.

Jon just allowed himself to breathe for a few moments. He was a knight. Knighted by the King himself. Truthfully he didn't care about southern gods, customs, chivalry and so on. But knighthood still had some value even if the knights cared about their vows rather not.

Jon made his way towards Lord Stark who was also coming in his direction. Lady Stark was going back inside Winterfell with Rickon.

Something small suddenly collided with Jon. He looked and realized it was Arya. Little Arya. She hugged him fiercely which bought his body some pain, but Jon just smiled.

"So you are a knight now. Like Sansa's stupid songs." Arya said looking at him. Jon gave her a nod.

"Every knight needs a squire. I can be your squire. You can train me. And one day I will become a knight just like you Jon." Arya continued with excitement.

Sansa came from behind them and replied, "You are a lady, Arya. Ladies can't be knights."

Arya turned angry and answered in a somewhat whiny tone, "Who made these silly rules? Rules are stupid!" 

Robb and Theon laughed at Arya's outburst and Jon joined in their laughs.

Bran interrupted them, "You can make me your squire Jon. We can travel across the Seven Kingdoms like Ser Duncan the Tall and Prince Egg." 

This time Robb answered and said, "For this you must first promise that you will stop climbing Winterfell's towers, Ser Brandon the Small!" Everybody laughed now.

The laughter quietened slowly as Eddard Stark approached. He had a small smile on his face. He looked towards Jon and said, "You fought well today Jon." and engulfed him in a hug. Jon froze for a few moments but then returned the hug.

When was the last time his Lord Father had hugged his bastard son? Jon couldn't remember it. Maybe not since he returned from the Greyjoy Rebellion. Jon left all these thoughts behind and embraced him. All the bitterness he held for Ned Stark for not telling him about his mother had vanished for sometime. There was warmth and some affection in the hug.

Jon welcomed it. 

When the long embrace ended. Ned Stark turned to rest of his children and said, "We will hold a feast in Jon's honor today. To the Knight of Winterfell."

"The Knight of Winterfell." They repeated and Jon walked with others towards the castle. When Jon finally reached his chambers. Ghost was already present there and ran towards him. Jon scratched Ghost behind the ears and collapsed on the bed. Sleep soon claimed him. And today somehow he was not plagued by the strange dreams.

Chapter Text

The following days went rather quickly. The King wanted to go for hunt in the Wolfswood almost everyday. And spent rest of his time drinking and whoring. Jon realized why Robert Baratheon came to Winterfell so quickly after Jon Arryn's death.

He had no interest in ruling. He wanted Eddard Stark to become the next Hand swiftly so he could continue his whoring and drinking. Jon's impression of the King had worsened. No wonder Cersei Lannister always turned loathsome in the King's presence despite masking her expressions well.

Speaking of the Queen. She had visited Jon once in the godswood. One quiet day, amidst the solemn hush of the godswood, she found Jon alone. At first she mocked him for being the honorable Eddard Stark's bastard. Jon just answered her nonchalantly. Then she inched too close to Jon for his comfort. Cersei Lannister was no doubt very beautiful but looking into her eyes something didn't felt right. Thankfully the abrupt arrival of Arya had ended that weird encounter. The Queen stayed far from him the following days.

Going to hunt with the King took most of the time of a day. The direwolves despite being young were very helpful. While the Crown Prince Joffery Baratheon was all loud talks and no action.

However the best times of the days were when he sparred with Jamie Lannister. The Kingslayer was too good, just as his repute told and handed Jon his ass most of the times. Fighting him was frustrating. He was relentless with his sword and also with his mouth. Mocking him regularly, making cruel jests continuously. But one day he had made a joke about Jon's mother.

Jon didn't know what fury took over him in that moment. One moment he was on backfoot against the Kingslayer and the next moment he attacked with such ferocity that Jamie Lannister's sword fell from his hands. Jon pushed him on the ground and his fists connected with Jamie's face.

"Never joke about my mother again!", Jon snapped as he was pulled away from Jamie Lannister by Ser Rodrik and two other men. His head was lost in a moment of madness and Jon went straight to the Godswood. 

Spending some time in the Godswood made him realize that he had lost control. He had shown a weakness. The Kingslayer had tried many times and was finally successful in making Jon lose control. A lesson to be learned.

Robb came into the Godswood some time later. 

"I just heard that you beat the Kingslayer bloody. The Queen was complaining. The King was just amused. Father is worried. And Jamie Lannister, well he was just smiling like it was probably nothing. What happened Jon?" Robb asked.

"Well, I just lost control." Jon sighed.

"I was also worried Jon. Come let's go. Father asked for you." Robb said and offered his hand to Jon to stand up. 

Meeting with Lord Stark went just as he expected. The same rant of staying away from the oathbreaking, kinglslaying and dishonorable knight Jamie Lannister. And controlling emotions. As if he was not the main reason for that. If only he told him about his mother rather than making excuses every time.

The next day came and Jon was not surprised to see Jamie Lannister standing there waiting for him. There were some bruises on his face but the ever present smug smile didn't leave him.

"So the wolf finally showed his fangs yesterday. I finally made you lose control. Sometimes it can be a strength as well." Jamie said as Jon silently approached.

"You know you sometimes remind me of myself in my green boy days." He continued.

"Is that supposed to be compliment?" Jon asked as he picked up his sword. 

Their dance had a lot of spectators today. No doubt here to see who gets bloodied today. Eventually after a long spar Jamie beat Jon yet again. He offered him his hand to stand. And when Jon was up halfway Jamie pushed him down again. But Jon had already anticipated the move and he kicked the Kingslayer on the stomach. They both collapsed on the ground. 

Jon laughed and Jamie Lannister said with a smirk, "So you are finally learning bastard. At this rate you might finally beat me in a few years when I'm an old man."

Later that night Jon went with Tyrion, Jamie and Theon to an alehouse in Wintertown. Robb unfortunately couldn't come with them. They laughed, the Imp shared amusing stories and they drank hard late into the night. He knew his Lord father won't approve. But Jon had stopped caring about Lord Stark's approval long ago.

The day Bran fell from the Broken Tower, the environment in Winterfell was mournful. Lady Stark had cried really hard and had not left Bran's bed even once. Jon truly felt bad for her this time.

She believed that Bran didn't fall on his own but was rather pushed by someone. To an extent Jon agreed. Bran had climbed almost all towers in Winterfell dozens of times and he never fell once. It was very unlikely and suspicious that he would fall this time. Only Bran would be able to tell what happned when he wakes up or if he wakes up. His father had looked sorrowful and delayed the journey South. 

Maester Luwin, ever the diligent caretaker, devoted himself entirely to Bran’s welfare. He moved through his daily routines with a sombre efficiency, administering remedies and vigilantly monitoring the boy’s condition.

Despite this Bran didn't wake for days though the maester said that he would live. 

The King had finally decided that the time to return South had come. The ever dutiful Eddard Stark couldn't deny his King despite his wife begging him to stay.

Jon also wanted to stay a few more days to see Bran wake up. But his father asked him to travel south with them till Moat Cailin. 

He had prepared the legitimisation and lordship papers. The King would sign them at Jon's castle and would make him a Lord of a new house.

On the day of departure Jon went to see Bran.

Jon climbed the steps slowly, Ghost padded silently beside him. Outside, snow swirled through the castle gates, and the yard was all noise and chaos, but inside the thick stone walls it was still warm and quiet. Too quiet for Jon’s liking.

Lady Stark was there beside his bed. She had been there, day and night, for close on a fortnight. Not for a moment had she left Bran’s side. She had her meals brought to her there, and chamber pots as well, and a small hard bed to sleep on, though it was said she had scarcely slept at all.

He stood in the door for a moment, afraid to speak, afraid to come closer. The window was open. Below, a wolf howled. Ghost heard and lifted his head. Lady Stark looked over. For a moment she did not seem to recognize him. Finally she blinked. “What are you doing here?” she asked in a voice strangely flat and emotionless.

“I came to see Bran,” Jon said. “To say good-bye.”
Her face did not change. Her long auburn hair was dull and tangled. She looked as though she had aged twenty years. “You’ve said it. Now go away.”

Something cold moved in her eyes. “I told you to leave,” she said. “We don’t want you here.”

“He’s my brother,” he said.

“Shall I call the guards?” Lady Stark growled

“Call them,” Jon said, defiant. “You can’t stop me from seeing him.” He crossed the room, keeping the bed between them, and looked down on Bran where he lay.

This was not the Bran he remembered. The flesh had all gone from him. His skin stretched tight over bones like sticks. Under the blanket, his legs bent in ways that made Jon sick. His eyes were sunken deep into black pits; open, but they saw nothing. The fall had shrunken him somehow. He looked half a leaf, as if the first strong wind would carry him off to his grave.

Jon's heart felt for the boy who wanted to be a knight but won't ever walk again now.

“Don’t die, Bran. Please. We’re all waiting for you to wake up. Me and Robb and the girls, everyone... ” Jon said to Bran taking his hand in his hands.

Lady Stark was watching. She had not raised a cry. Jon took that for acceptance. Outside the window, a direwolf howled again. The wolf that Bran had not had the time to name.

"I have to go now Bran. But I promise you when you wake up, I will come as quickly as possible to see you." Jon said emotionally and made his way to the door taking a last look at Lady Stark.

“I wanted him to stay here with me,” Lady Stark said softly.

She continued, “He was my special boy. I went to the sept and prayed seven times to the seven faces of god that Ned would change his mind and leave him 
here with me. Sometimes prayers are answered.”

Jon did not know what to say. “It wasn’t your fault,” he managed after an awkward silence. 

Her eyes found him. They were full of poison. “I need none of your absolution, bastard.”

Jon didn't care to reply the cold fish. Despite being in grief she still had hatred and contempt of him. All the sadness he felt for her in last few days turned to ashes.

He was at the door when she called out to him. “Jon,” she said. He should have kept going, but she had never called him by his name before. He turned to find her looking at his face, as if she were seeing it for the first time.

“Yes?” he said.

“It should have been you,” she told him.

Jon froze for a moment. His fists clenched with fury. How can a women be so hateful to him for just being born. Before walking away he told her one last time.

"Keep your wishes to yourself Lady Stark. Such a deep hatred and spite for a motherless boy. Are you a trout or a snake with the amount of venom filled inside you? Have I ever put any of your children at harm? I love them all. Even Sansa who follows you in her contempt for me. The idea of me usurping Winterfell from them is just what you tell yourself to hate me. I had not to wished to say anything to you but remember this." The anger in his voice was rising.

"My mother might have been a noblewoman, a commoner or a whore, she might be alive or dead but she would still be a far better woman than you. Maybe Eddard Stark still loves her more than he could ever love you. Maybe he still chooses her in his heart everytime over you." Jon finished and without bothering to see her react made his way down towards the yard.

Robb found him there.

“Did you see him?” Jon nodded in silence.

“He’s not going to die,” Robb said. “I know it.”

Robb knew something was wrong. “My mother... ”

"I don't want to talk about it." Jon said finally.

Robb didn't look convinced but nodded anyway. "Next time I see you, you'll be a Lord of your own house. Have you decided a name?" He asked trying to lighten the conversation.

"I was thinking about taking the name Cailin from Moat Cailin." Jon replied.

"Jon Cailin. Lord of Moat Cailin. Ah! I didn't expect you to be such an unimaginative person Jon." Robb said with a little laugh. 

"Farewell, Robb. Take care of Winterfell. Look after Bran and Rickon. Send me your fastest raven when Bran wakes up." Jon told Robb and embraced him.

The journey South down the Kingsroad was mostly uneventful. Sansa and even Arya were quieter than usual. Still reeling from Bran's fall. Arya only showed little playfulness when with her direwolf Nymeria or when Jon gave her his last few sword lessons. Lord Stark spent most of his time with Robert Baratheon.

The King was in his usual routine. Laughing and drinking. The Queen and the Crown Prince appeared to be eager to leave the North and the cold behind. The Kingslayer's mind felt a bit off. It had been such since the day Bran fall. They hadn't sparred since then. Jon had hoped to face the knight on the road. But they didn't get much opportunity while traveling.

Tyrion Lannister had went North with Jon's uncle Benjen Stark to see the Wall. More precisely to piss on the edge of the world. The dwarf had also joked about seeing grumpkins and snarks North of the Wall.

As they reached the Neck. The cold of the North had reduced significantly. The Queen's wheelhouse had made them slow while traveling through the swampy terrain of the Neck. After traveling for about 12-13 days, they finally reached Jon's seat.

Moat Cailin.

The towers were visible from a distance. Last time Jon visited here was moons ago. The restoration of the 6th tower was completed now. The tower faced North. Lord Stark had sanctioned the development for eight towers in Moat Cailin. At its pinnacle the fortress had almost twenty towers. Most of them stood in ruin now. Despite which it was still impregnable. At least from the South. There was some vulnerability from the West and the North. But it was patched now following the redevelopment of new towers. The Moat was now protected from all sides.

Jon had decided that out of the eight towers to be restored, two must face West where if anyone dared to sail upstream at the Fever River and tried to take the Moat will face failure. 

The construction of two towers was still left. But even not fully finished Moat Cailin had become unconquerable. 

Despite of all that, the main problem would be the maintenance. No wonder why it was abandoned from time to time. Better to just garrison it during war time than bear cost of maintenance. The fortress was still half ruin even after so much work done in recent years. Swamps don't provide much income or people. Jon would have a hard time to generate income here. But he would no doubt find a solution.

At the entrance to the fortress they were greeted by Bryen Reed, a cousin of Lord Howland Reed and the current castellan and steward of Moat Cailin. Ser Marlon Manderly, a cousin of Lord Wyman Manderly of White Harbor. He was appointed to see the restoration work of Moat Cailin on behalf of House Manderly by Lord Stark. Lord Wyman's son and heir Ser Wylis Manderly was also present. 

They all dismounted and went to one knee to greet the King. 

"Your Graces, Lord Stark, Lord Jon. Welcome to Moat Cailin." Ser Marlon Manderly said.

"Rise." the King said and they made their way in.

Chapter Text

Jon Snow followed Ned Stark into the solar of his chambers in the Children's Tower. The tower Jon had decided to be his seat. It was the most central tower of Moat Cailin. Almost at the centre of the fortress. Also the second largest. The Starks had taken residence here.

The King and his royal party had occupied that Gatehouse Tower. The largest tower in Moat Cailin. The Drunkard's Tower would have suited the King best though. Jon thought inwardly. He decided that he needed to rename that tower. 

Lord Stark took out the parchments and passed them to Jon. 

Jon took the quill, dipped it in ink and filled the parchments. The name of his new house. House Cailin of Moat Cailin. He fixed his sigil. A Red eyed White Direwolf on a Green background with three towers behind. The sigil of the new House Cailin. He wrote all the necessary words and sentences and signed it off as Jon Cailin. Lord of Moat Cailin. 

His father Lord Stark read them for some time. Then gave Jon a nod. After the ink got dried. He folded the parchments. The King will sign them. And Jon will become a Lord officially.

They talked for a while and then Jon excused himself. The King, Lord Stark and their party were to depart from Moat Cailin the next day. They had stayed for two days. He went to retrieve the present wrapped in a cloth. He had a proper farewell to make.

As Jon made his way towards Arya's chambers. He saw her packing a polished ironwood chest that was bigger than she was. Nymeria who was sitting beside Arya let out a soft growl. Likely smelled Ghost. Arya turned around,  lept to her feet, shouted "JON!" and hugged him. 

Jon let a smile out. 

Arya then tuned to his face and said, "Why can't I stay here with you? Why do I have to go South with Sansa? I asked father but he just told me that I would be coming to King's Landing. That the decision was made. If I stay here, I can play with you. We can train. We can hunt lizard lions. There would be no boring Septa to teach sewing." 

"Hold on dear sister. The South is also interesting. In King's Landing you will be in the Red Keep. There are dragon skulls there. You can see them. Maegor the Cruel also made hundreds of secret passages throughout the Keep. Maybe you will find some of them. King's Landing is a big city. You can explore it with father's permission." Jon said to Arya.

"Besides I have something for you to take with you, and it has to be packed very carefully.”

Her face lit up. “A present?”

“You could call it that." Jon answered.

Jon pulled off the cloth he’d wrapped it in. He held it out to her. Arya’s eyes went wide. “A sword,” she said in a small, hushed breath.

The scabbard was soft grey leather, supple as sin. Jon drew out the blade slowly, so she could see the deep blue sheen of the steel. “This is no toy,” he told her. “Be careful you don’t cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with.”

“Girls don’t shave,” Arya said.

“Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa’s legs?”

She giggled at him. “It’s so skinny.”

“So are you,” Jon told her. “I had Mikken make this special. The bravos use swords like this in Braavos, Pentos and Myr and the other Free Cities. It won’t hack a man’s head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you’re fast enough.”

“I can be fast,” Arya said.

“You’ll have to work at it every day.” He put the sword in her hands, showed her how to hold it, and stepped back.

“How does it feel? Do you like the balance?”

“I think so,” Arya said.

“First lesson,” Jon said. “Stick them with the pointy end.”

Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. “I know which end to use,” Arya said. A doubtful look crossed her face. “Septa Mordane will take it away from me.”

“Not if she doesn’t know you have it,” Jon said.

“Who will I practice with?” Arya asked.

“You’ll find someone,” Jon promised her.

“King’s Landing is a true city, a thousand times 
the size of Winterfell. Until you find a partner, watch how they fight in the yard. Run, and ride, make yourself strong." 

“I almost forgot!” he told her. “All the best swords have names.”

“Like Ice,” she said. She looked at the blade in her hand. “Does this have a name? Oh, tell me.”

Jon teased. “Your very favorite thing.”

Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together:
“Needle!”

Jon messed up her hair. “I will miss you, little sister.”

The King and the Starks left the next day. Jon was now sitting in the solar of the Lord's chambers in the Children's Tower. Present there with him were the steward Bryen Reed, Ser Malron Manderly and the Maester named Mathis. A nobleman from a minor House in the Vale. He was just a few years older than Jon.

"So?" Jon started 

Bryen Reed, the small crannogman with mossy green eyes turned towards Jon and began the meeting. They talked about the nearby villages. Fiishing and hunting was the main source of livelihood in these swamps. A few disputes between the fishermen. A robbery at headman's house in a village. Two criminals who were to be sent to the Watch. These day to day matters took most of the time. Jon took his time to make decisions and listened to the counsel of the men present.

Eventually the conversation turned to the development of the Moat. Ser Marlon said, "In the last 5 years we have developed six out of the eight targeted towers. Now two are left. There work has began some time ago. In a year and half the primary work of the fortress will be completed." 

House Manderly had directly bore about more than a quarter of the cost. Most of the responsibilities for the contracts and materials were delegated to them. Lord Stark had given them some incentives and had also talked about the possibility of a marriage between House Stark and Manderly.

Lord Wyman had jumped on the chance. His granddaughters had visited Winterfell many times in past few years. Wynfryd the eldest daughter of Ser Wylis Manderly was pretty and intelligent. Most likely groomed to rule White Harbor in the future. She was a couple of years older than him and Robb. 

The younger Wylla was more wilder like Arya. She was younger than Jon and Robb. She had her hair dyed green. Always curious and asking questions about lots of things. 

Days progressed and Jon traveled to assess different towers. The Moat was the biggest castle in the North. There was plenty of space between the towers. Each were connected with roads and surrounded by swamps containing what not.

Moat Cailin now had six fully developed fortifications. Two facing West. One facing North. Among the main three cental towers repaired, The Gatehouse Tower was the southernmost. The biggest with most space for barracks, battlements, granary storage, chambers and also the tallest. It even had its own Weirwood Tree.

The Children's Tower the was centremost and most well built. You could watch all towers from its top. It was the second largest in the fortress. And the best equipped. There was even a small library. It was like the capital of Moat Cailin. This tower also somehow felt more alive than others. Like the magic of the Children of the Forest still lingered here. 

The Godswood of Moat Cailin was located near the Children's Tower.

The leaning tower which was now called the Dancer's Tower was situated a little eastward. It's name had been changed from the Drunkard's Tower. It was the smallest of the three central towers. Time had weighed heavily on it. Despite the redevelopment,  the tower had to be remained leaning. The most interesting thing about the tower though was the small hotspring near it. How the hell there was a hotspring in middle of swamps, Jon didn't knew. But he had to somehow make a boon out of it.

The West Facing towers were named as the Bogwatch and the Westmarsh. Facing towards the Fever River twenty miles away from Moat Cailin. The Bogwatch had dense swamps around it which made mobility challenging. The Westmarsh was better connected with the centre. 

The sixth tower which was facing northwards was called as Windwatch referring to the winds coming from the North. There were two towers remaining to be developed as per the original plan. One would be facing East. Another one would be made at the foot of Moat Cailin facing South. He would decide their names later. Jon had half a mind to give the southernmost tower a name like Andal's Bane. 

The structure of Moat Cailin was now good and strong. The main issues started after it. The biggest problem was manpower. Lord Stark approved the idea of Moat Cailin but didn't put much emphasis on the number of men.

The North itself was sparsely populated. Counting the nearby villages and a couple of small townlike settlements. Jon's lordship could only boast at maximum of 2500-3000 people. He had to somehow bring more people here. If not the maintenance of Moat Cailin would remain difficult and it will again start declining in the future.

Economical problems were also plenty here. No fertile lands to farm. Most folks depended on fishing and hunting. He had a serious discussion about it with Bryen Reed. He told Jon that there were some exotic and rare plants that only grew in these swamps. Many contained different herbs, fruits, flowers and poisons. Not even the Citadel knew about many of them. He would have to create a market for them. 

The lizard lions were a common sight in the Neck. Bryen Reed showed Jon the skin and hide of a grown lizard lion. It was a good and hard leather. The crannogmen used the scales of lizard lions to make their armor. High quality leather armors could be made from it. The leather was also fit for many other purposes.

It seemed to Jon like there were many more treasures buried in the Neck. He would have to find them all. 

One day he was having a discussion with Maester Mathis and Bryen Reed about the possibility of making a canal from the eastern coast to the head of the Fever River. Such a project would connect the East and the West the coast through a passage which will pass through Moat Cailin which will increase its worth. 

It looked good in theory. 

But the implementation of such an ambitious project was too difficult, costly and with a hundred more issues. There were no ports on North's Western Coast. Only major ports that would be accessible to the West and at a reasonable distance were Lordsport and Lannisport. And on the East ports nearby were White Harbor and Braavos. Gulltown could also be counted. The ports further South Like King's Landing and Pentos would not benefit much from this route as their distance won't have changed much. 

White Harbor won't certainly support such project as it would rival their city. Even then the North doesn't have any money. Lord Stark didn't like loans. Even if Iron Bank could issue him loan they would put a thousand conditions and the canal would take more than decade to be built. And add many years that would take to run it profitably. Jon would drown in debt.

Alas Starks didn't shit gold like Tywin Lannister. 

This thought made Jon wonder that if there would be some unexplored Gold mines or other valuable mines in the North. They still had a few of them. But the North was so vast and bigger than rest of the Kingdoms combined. There had to be many more. 

If you counted the region beyond the Wall. It was filled with wildlings savages who mostly lived on hunting and raiding for survival. And knew very little of other things. Why had no Stark done exploration there in recent memory? If there are valuable materials present there, it would make the North rich. 

Jon would definitely urge Robb to do so when he becomes the Lord of Winterfell. His father Lord Stark has no ambitions looking beyond winter. Much to Jon's frustration.

Another day another topic came into discussion. 

"Glass Gardens" Jon said sitting in his solar with Bryen, Ser Marlon and the Maester. 

"If we can establish glass gardens here like they are at Winterfell. Some of the problems regarding food could be solved." Jon continued. 

"Glass gardens are expensive. There is a reason why every castle in the North hasn't placed them." Ser Marlon replied. 

"Everything is expensive. But if we put glass gardens her, our one issue solves." Jon told. 

"My father is the Hand of the King now. He can no doubt easily organise funds if we asked." 

Jon then looked towards Bryen Reed. 

"Bryen, is it possible to farm here if we dig some relatively drier parts of the swamps and put fertile soil on it? Plenty of fertile lands in the Gift are empty. The Night's Watch shouldn't complain if we buy some soil from them." Jon asked

Bryen looked unsure. He remained in his thoughts for a moment. Then answered. 

"It might be possible. I cannot say for sure. But it won't hurt to try. I will send a raven to Winterfell and another to Castle Black to arrange a meeting regarding it if you say." 

"One more thing. We lack people here. King's Landing has a population of a half a million and is over crowded. Pen a letter to Lord Stark in about a moon. He would be settled in the capital by then. He can easily send us some people here." Jon said and stood from chair. 

Others stood as well to end the meeting.

Ser Marlon said to Jon before leaving "My Lord it would be best for you to visit him personally in King's Landing to discuss it. You can you also talk about getting funds for glass gardens during your visit. But from what I've heard the Crown is already in much debt. Getting funds from them would be hard."

"I will think about it Ser Marlon" Jon replied and made his way out of the solar. 

Jon decided to visit the Godswood. 

Moat Cailin's Godswood was smaller than Winterfell but no less enchanting. He sat under the Heart Tree and let his thoughts relax.

Being a Lord was a good headache.

He spent some time in Godswood. Then headed back to the Children's Tower. Ghost found him in his way. The direwolf had a tough time adjusting to these lands filled with swamps. Jon moved his hands through Ghost's fur as they entered the great hall. 

Bryen Reed was sitting there and looking at Jon and Ghost curiously. He had seen that look in him many times. He wanted to ask him about it. But then decided that he would do it later.

Jon already had enough for a day.

Chapter Text

He was silently walking through the swamps on his four limbs. The prey was nearby. He had been following its trail from some time now. He slowly lept to the other side of the tree without making any sound. The prey was now in front of him. It had not noticed him yet. He took advantage of it. The prey didn't even had the time to react as he lunged on it. His fangs gripped it hard and his teeth closed around its neck.

Jon woke up with the taste of blood in his mouth. His dreams as Ghost had become stronger and more frequent since coming to Moat Cailin. He knew he was a skinchanger or a warg like the wildilings said. But till now all of it happened only while Jon slept. He had not yet slipped into Ghost's mind consciously. 

The day went as usual. Lordly duties and visiting the construction sites.

Ghost returned from its hunt in the afternoon. There was mud drenched on his fur and some blood too. Jon took him to the hotsprings near the Dancer's Tower in the evening and washed him.

He decided to visit the Godswood before heading back inside.

As Jon and Ghost entered the Godswood, they came upon Bryen Reed sitting with his back rested on a tree and eyes closed. Suddenly a bird landed on the branches nearby and his eyes burst open noticing them. He straightened himself and greeted Jon.

"My Lord." He said.

Bryen Reed had that enigmatic look on his face. The same look he always had while seeing Ghost with Jon.

Jon finally decided to ask him about it. 

"What's with that look you give everytime while seeing me and Ghost together? Want to tell me something say it now." Jon told him. 

"I see a potential of a gift inside you. What I am about to tell you, you can either believe it, ignore it or call me a madman." Bryen said.

Jon nodded.

"I see the potential of a skinchanger inside you. A warg. The gift is more common and known beyond the Wall. It is rare in the lands South of the Wall. But somewhat less rare in the Neck. The magic still breathes here."

He continued

"Even the gift of greensight is also sometimes found here. Some have it for some part of their life, some from time to time, others once or twice in their life. 

A person with the greensight may dream as other people do, but the green dreams are different, filled with symbolic meaning, images, and metaphors of what is to come.

The meaning behind the dreams is not always obvious, but the dreamer experiences the fulfillment of visions in the unfolding of events. Greenseers might also dream of their own deaths." 

Jon asked him, "Do you also have greensight?"

Bryen replied, "I don't have greensight. Though I am a skinchanger. I can easily slip into the skins of small animals. Larger animals are different. They try to fight your mind more. Only one in a thousand is born a skinchanger and only one skinchanger in a thousand is born a greenseer.

The greensight still comes from time to time in the members of House Reed. Lord Howland my cousin had a few dreams in his youth which led him to visit the Isle of Faces. His son and my nephew little Jojen has these dreams he calls green dreams. A little power of greensight is within him." 

"Well just when I think you Reeds can't get more strange you beat me to it." Jon exclaimed.

"So you believe?" Bryen asked.

"Yes I do. I already knew I was a skinchanger. I dream sometimes that I am my direwolf Ghost. Running silently. Hunting in the night. It only happens when I am asleep. I can't do it on my own will." Jon answered 

"You have strong Stark blood. The Starks of old had these connections with their direwolves. Marrying the daughters of the Warg King brought the ability of warging in their blood. There weren't direwolves South of the Wall for more than a century. Now there are six. The old magic is returning. It can be both good or bad. You have the potential. I think you will learn well." Bryen told Jon.

"So you will teach me ?" Jon questioned.

"Of course I will. Magic is rare and must be nurtured whenever found. But I will tell you one thing. If you learn, keep your abilities to yourself. Don't tell anyone you don't trust about it. People fear what they don't understand. Magic is feared and vilified. Especially in the South by the Maesters of the Citadel and the Faith. Some even whisper that they played a role in weakening the Targaryens and their dragons." Bryen answered.

"Maester Luwin of Winterfell has a Valyrian Steel link in his chain. He had studied magic. When I once asked him whether magic still existed, he said that the majority of the magic in the world died with death of the last Targaryen dragons."

Jon continued.

"Some magic still exists in the East practiced by warlocks in Qarth, mages in Yi Ti and Asshai. But their power is close to very little. He also told me that he once believed magic existed but he failed in harnessing it despite getting his Valyrian steel link. Since then he stopped believing in magic."  

"Magic doesn't come to everyone. And is unpredictable. Sometimes it may work with a person, other times not. Your Maester Luwin is one of the rare the Maesters who at least tried magic. Most of the ones sitting in the Citadel either totally ignore it or try to supress or vilify the some that exists. Some of the Archmaesters there want a world devoid of magic." said Bryen.

"Damn! How do you know so much while sitting here isolated in the swamps? The more I know you more mysterious you become. You are about the same age as my father, more closer to uncle Benjen I think but the way you talk makes me think that you must be 30 years more older." Jon laughed.

Bryen smiled, "Well I have my own sources. And who said I haven't left the Neck to see the world? I will tell you more some other time."

"Wait! Do you think our Maester Mathis might hold the same views for magic as most of the Citadel or he might have some other opinions?" Jon asked to Bryen.

"I cannot say for sure. He is still young. Not much older than you. He might have fresh views not much tainted by experience or prejudice. Or not. If we discreetly question him about magic from time to time. We might know." Bryen said then again turned towards Jon.

"We can pratice and work about your warging. I will have your lessons here in the Godswood. Powers of the Old Gods are stronger near the Weirwoods. Be ready every evening and meet me here." With that he left and Jon's mind remained in wonder, awe, excitement.

From the next day they practiced daily in the Godswood. Jon even managed to warg in Ghost on the first day. For a few days Jon only slipped into his direwolf's mind. Ghost's presence in his mind was welcoming. And it took little effort to warg inside Ghost. 

One day Bryen brought a frog with him. It was the first animal other than Ghost that he tried to skinchange. Jon faced some resistance from the frog's mind but Jon's will overcame the frog's and he managed to stay inside its mind for some time. 

Bryen warned him that spending too much time inside a prey or a weak animal can make our own mind and instincts fearful and cowardly. 

Then they tried with birds. Jon found slipping inside the mind of a bird hard and tiresome. He tried warging a raven but only managed to stay for a few moments.

Jon had asked Bryen why it was difficult to slip inside other animals but just like breathing while slipping inside Ghost.

He had answered, "You and Ghost are bonded. You have raised him since he was a little pup. He's a part of you. You are his master. The other animals you try to warg don't like your presence invading their mind. They fight you until you totally break their will to fight. Once you win that battle, slipping in their skin becomes easier."

Jon tried it on specific creatures and found slipping inside them easier each time.

One day Bryen had brought him a hawk from White Harbor. It was young and medium sized. Grey and black coloured with razor sharp eyes. A rare colouring. He told Jon that it was a gift from him as he was learning fast. A bit too fast. That magic was really strong inside him.

It took many days but Jon was finally able to break the hawk's will. When Jon had flied in the sky through the hawk, he had felt freedom. True freedom. The world felt so small from up there. Despite Bryen warning him that spending too much time in the hawk would make him lose himself, Jon spent a lot of time inside it and enjoyed.

He had named the hawk Frelis coming from the word for freedom in the Old Tongue. He was thankful to the wildling women to teach him some of that language. He knew the important words. And could speak some passable Old Tongue.

Jon was now also able to warg inside his horse Snowstorm. A white coloured horse of Northern breed. Gifted to him on his 14th nameday. It was young back them. But now in its full strength.

Bryen explained to him that Ghost, Frelis and Snowstorm had become his familiars and which was why Jon slipped into their skins rather easily. The connection was built through some time and them being young allowed Jon to bond with them with lesser difficulties. 

Snowstorm had known Jon for long since he was young. Same with Ghost. Frelis was also young now and Jon had totally won his mind.

A thought came to Jon's mind. The Targaryen-Blackwood bastard Brynden Rivers was rumoured and suspected to be a sorcerer. The Bloodraven served as Hand of the King and Master of Whisperers. The Blackwoods were descended from the First Men.

Jon wondered that whether he was also a skinchanger that allowed him to catch secrets and have eyes everywhere.

Like the song said.

A thousand eyes and one.

Some days later four men of Winterfell who had marched South with Lord Stark's party arrived at Moat Cailin.

With them was a crate present. 

Jon went to meet them. 

"M'lord Cailin. I am Willis. We were ordered by Lord Stark to take the body of the direwolf and bury it in Winterfell." One of them said. Likely their captain.

"Body of a direwolf? What direwolf!" Jon almost shouted in shock.

"The direwolf of Lady Sansa, m'lord." He answered.

Lady. Sansa's wolf.

"What happened with her? How is she dead?" Jon questioned. 

"The Queen ordered to put her down. Lady Arya's wolf had bit the Crown Prince. That wolf escaped so the queen ordered Lady Sansa's wolf to be punished m'lord. The butcher's boy who was playing with Lady Arya that time was also killed." Willis said.

Jon's blood boiled. Bloody Lannisters. Bloody Queen and her whelp Joffrey. 

Why couldn't you save her father? Your bloody fat friend is the King.

Jon thought angrily.

He moved towards the crate, pulled it down and opened it. 

Inside the crate was Lady. The sweet gentle direwolf. Dead now. Ghost padded behind him. He reached towards Lady, brought his snout near her head and let out a silent mournful cry. 

His sister was dead.

Jon put a hand through Lady's fur. And offered a silent prayer to the Old Gods.

The Lannisters will pay for it some day. 

Jon closed the crate. And went straight to the Godswood.

He had spent almost an hour there when Bryen Reed found him.

"The world is a cruel thing. Direwolves the creatures of legends return after such a long time but some still find a way to kill them." Bryen said. 

Jon stayed silent.

"You must be really angry. But there is not much you can do about it. Life is unfair and will remain unfair. We must still live with it. Most of the times you never find justice. And even if you find it there is not much satisfaction afterwards."

"Still the Queen and her son should pay. I will find a way one day." Jon said coldy.

His mood the next few days was not good but he still did his duty and practiced his warging. The escort of Lady's remains had left one day after their arrival. 

He was in standing in the battlements of the Children's Tower watching his fortress when the Maester requested his presence. 

When he entered the rookery, Maester Mathis bowed and said, "My Lord, a raven from King's Landing. They are organising a tourney in honour of the new Hand. The Hand's tourney they call it. But that's not for what I called you urgently. Its the prize money for the tourney." He paused.

Then continued, "Forty thousand golden dragons to the champion. Twenty thousand to the man who comes second, another twenty to the winner of the melee, and ten thousand to the victor of the archery competition."

Jon grinned inwardly. He understood Mathis's intention. Another thought came to him. Such a huge prize money for a tourney. No wonder the Crown was in debt. But it would work in their advantage here. If Jon somehow won the tourney, they can get sufficient funds to easily start the construction of a single glass garden.

"Well it looks like King's Landing might require our presence soon." Jon smiled and the Maester smiled in return. 

"So when is the tourney, Mathis?" Jon asked.

"In about a moon my lord." He replied.

"Looks I would have to leave for White Harbor to catch a ship within two to three days. I will have to make preparations. If you have some urgent matters that won't have to wait bring them tomorrow. I would be away for at least one and half moon to two moons from here." Jon said and left the rookery. 

He went towards his solar and asked a servant girl to fetch Bryen Reed.

When Bryen arrived in his solar, Jon gestured him to sit and handed him the raven scroll.

He read it and then asked Jon "So you want to go South and participate in the tourney?"

"No I want to win that tourney and I need you to come with me to King's Landing." Jon exclaimed.

"And what would I do there? I am better suited to look after Moat Cailin in your absence." Bryen said.

"Moat Cailin can hold itself for two moons. We have Mathis and Ser Marlon here. They can look after it in our absence. Besides I will have some task for you in King's Landing." Jon remarked.

"What task would that be?" Bryen questioned.

Jon now had a sly smile on his face. 

"How well can you skinchange in to horses?" He asked Bryen.

Bryen was shocked momentarily and then said, "You want me to spook the horses of your opponents in the joust." 

"Exactly. Think about it. The prize money is huge. We can start building a glass garden with it. Its not like we would just blow the entire amount. It's helping the North in the end." Jon told him. 

"Some might call it unfair to others rather than your whatever good of the North excuse." Bryen said but this time there was a small smile on his face.

"Life is unfair. You had told me that we have to still live with it. Well I am just living with it. Sometimes you have to be unfair to this unfair world." Jon said while grinning. 

"Fine, I will do it for you, you clever wolf." Bryen said at last to Jon with a little laugh. 

Jon stood from his chair and hugged him.

"Well let's get our glass gardens. Haha!" 

Chapter Text

The journey to White Harbor was swift and without any trouble. Jon had sent a raven to Winterfell informing Robb about his travel to King's Landing. Another was sent to Lord Manderly in White Harbor informing about his arrival. 

He had to reluctantly leave Ghost behind at Moat Cailin. It was a hard decision but a necessary one. The Lannisters had already killed one direwolf. Jon was walking into their den in King's Landing. It would not have been safe for Ghost there.

In a way it was a also a smart decision. Jon could keep his eyes on Moat Cailin through Ghost despite being far away.

His hawk Frelis was currently flying above Jon's party as they reached the gates of the city of White Harbor.

Ser Wendel Manderly the second son of Lord Wyman Manderly had come to greet and welcome them at the city gates. 

They made their way to the New Castle through the bustling streets of White Harbor filled with the smell of fresh fish, salt and sea, people and merchants arranged in a well managed manner.

Jon's eyes found the old castle of White Harbor looming in distance. 

The Wolf's Den as it was called. Now turned into a prison. The castle raised by his namesake Jon Stark to defend the shores and the White Knife.

Jon Stark. The King in the North.

It sounded too good for Jon's ears. 

As they entered the New Castle, they were led into the Merman's Court by Ser Wendel.

The walls, floor, and ceiling of the Merman's Court were made of wooden planks notched cunningly together and decorated with all the creatures of the sea. At one end was the entrance, and at the other was a dais with a large cushioned throne for Wyman Manderly the Lord of White Harbor. 

The floor had painted crabs and clams and starfish, half-hidden amongst twisting black fronds of seaweed and the bones of drowned sailors.

On the walls were pale sharks prowling painted blue-green depths, whilst eels and octopods slithered amongst rocks and sunken ships. Shoals of herring and great codfish swam between the tall, arched windows.

Higher up, near where the old fishing nets drooped down from the rafters, the surface of the sea was depicted. To the right a war galley rested serenely against the rising sun; to the left, a battered old cog raced before a storm, her sails in rags.

Behind the dais a kraken and a grey leviathan were locked in battle beneath the painted waves.

The-Lord-Too-Fat-To-Ride-A-Horse sat on the raised dias in the Lord's throne. His large body entirely covered the seat. There were many present in the Merman's Court. Ser Wylis Manderly stood near with his wife Lady Leona Woolfield. Their daughters were also present. Wynfryd Manderly with her rich brown hair and a warm smile on her face. Wylla Manderly with her dyed green hair a little longer than her older sister and mischief glinting in her eyes.

Looking at the size of their father and grandfather one might wonder how they remained slender. There were others present as well, some Knights and sworn Houses of the Manderlys. Septons and women of the Faith of the Seven.

Lord Manderly in his booming voice announced "Lord Cailin! I welcome you to my city. The hospitality of White Harbor is yours. I offer you a feast in your honour at my table tonight."

The appearance of Wyman Manderly said that the man likely feasted everyday. After the greetings were exchanged, Lord Manderly led them to his solar. 

After they were all seated, Lord Manderly and his sons, Jon and Bryen, the huge man started "Bryen it's good to see you again."

"You as well Lord Wyman." Bryen Reed replied. 

"Now Lord Cailin, you are sailing to the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. I will provide one of my swiftest ships for your voyage. My son Wendel will accompany you as well." Wyman said. 

"Thank you, My Lord. Now moving to the main talk. I was planning to install glass gardens at Moat Cailin to sort the problem of scarce food in the swamps. The funds required for such a project are large so the winning amount from the Hand's Tourney would help as set at least one glass garden."

Jon continued, "It would be helpful if you could use your contacts in the East to aid us in making a contract with the Myrish in setting up glass gardens at Moat Cailin."

"I will see to it Jon Cailin. It's good to see you being so enthusiastic and eager to solve your problems in Moat Cailin. Most would've been satisfied with the improved state of the old fortress if given to them. You are looking for more improvement. Most of us Northerners don't look much ahead and are just content with the way the things are. You are not among those men. It's among many things I like about you boy." 

Lord Manderly paused, "You are intelligent and sharp minded. But always remember one thing, never let yourself think you are the smartest person in the room. It helped me a lot." 

"Bryen had told me you want to trade lizard lion leather and some other things from the Neck with the South." 

Jon nodded.

"There is small trade of these things between the Neck and White Harbor. Most of the Crannogmen are not interested in venturing outside their land, so their exchanges outside the Neck remain few. The availability of the goods that come from the Neck is low, as a result we don't have a proper chain of trade between them and the South. If you want to establish a good trading link, you will have the task of increasing the produce and availability of things from the Neck. I have hopes that you will surely succeed. I will refer you to some of the merchants in King's Landing that might be interested."

There was a silence for few moments before Lord Manderly once again spoke while looking towards his second son, "Regarding your glass gardens. Wendel journey to Pentos during your return from King's Landing. Talk with Myrish glass merchants there and the Magisters' envoys. If everything goes on time we might have the construction starting within a year. I will also pour some of my coin into it."

"Thanks for your generosity, My Lord. My father always spoke highly of you and House Manderly. The North is grateful to White Harbor." Jon told Lord Manderly.

Wyman Manderly smiled, "We remember that when House Manderly was exiled from the Reach, the North gave us shelter. The Starks gave us shelter and made us the masters of this city. White Harbor owes to the Starks of Winterfell, a debt that can never be repaid. We might follow the Seven Gods but we take our pride in the Northern way."

There was silence again which was interrupted by Ser Wylis, "Enough of all these talks, we must allow our guests to take some rest now."

"Well Lord Jon and Lord Bryen I will take my leave now and Wylis will show you to your chambers. Let's meet again and enjoy ourselves at the feast tonight." With that Lord Manderly and all others stood and Ser Wylis escorted Jon and Bryen to their chambers.

The room Jon was given was lavish. White Harbor was so different from rest of the North. More bright. More busy. He took his rest and slept a little. 

An hour before the feast servants had come to draw a bath for him. Jon scrubbed himself clean and looked into the mirror. His dark brown hair which just went past his shoulders was still wet. He looked at his face. His beard was growing now. Covered enough part of his cheeks. He had been growing it since last year. It was some stubble at first but later started to grow properly. Robb had complained about how his own had still remained in stubbles. There were no battle scars on Jon's face yet.

Only times he had a real bloody fight were a few with wildlings and one time with some outlaws. His first kill remained an ugly faced tall Wildling wielding an axe. He had faced him when he was near the Last Hearth hunting with the Umbers. 

Jon dried himself and got dressed. 

He heard a few knocks on the door and was not surprised to see Bryen already ready. 

Behind him was Ser Wylis Manderly who escorted them to the great hall of the New Castle.

Upon entering the great hall of the New Castle, Jon found himself enveloped by a burst of sensory delights. Every eye in the room, whether out of respect, curiosity, or hidden calculation, seemed to settle on him.

Jon was given a seat of honour on the right of Lord Wyman Manderly. 

On the right of him were seated Wynfryd and Wylla. To Lord Manderly's left were Ser Wylis and his wife, followed by Ser Wendel and Bryen Reed.

The hall was filled with people. And lots of food was brought. Patters heaped with an array of fresh fish caught from the icy waters, roasted crabs whose shells were artfully broken to reveal tender white meat, and hearty servings of pork and venison that spoke of good hunts. Intermixed with these savories were the sweeter indulgences. Lemon and apple cakes, honeyed bread with its aromatic warmth, oysters that shimmered with the promise of the sea, and exotic fruits from the far reaches of the South and Essos.

The drinks served ranged from the famous thick black stout and yellow beer of White Harbor, the bitter Northern ale to the sour Dornish Red and the sweet Arbor Gold.

Wyman Manderly joked about his weight and appetite. Recalled tales from his youth when he was a fit and agile man. Ser Wendel shared his stories of Essos from Braavos to the far East. Bryen Reed mostly stayed quiet in his usual understated manner, spoke little but listened intently to every word. 

Jon was mainly engaged in conversation with Lord Manderly's granddaughters. It was light hearted at first. Wynfryd's questions were calm and measured. Wylla on the other hand pestered Jon with questions. She asked him about the Wall, his travels across the North, the lizard lions and his spar with the King. Jon answered them all, and joked and laughed with the two sisters.

Then came the time for dance. Lord Manderly had many singers in his court. One from Oldtown started a melodious tune with a lute. 

Rising from his seat, Jon asked Wynfryd Manderly for a dance.

"Would you honour me with a dance My Lady?"

Her eyes sparkled in response as she nodded, her hand slipping into his as they both rose. There was a delicate redness on her cheeks, a tender blush.

They moved to the space for the dance. Ser Wylis had also stood with his wife and they were making their way to the dance floor. Lord Manderly had an approving look on his face. 

The melody of the lute deepened as Jon took Wynfryd to the centre of the dance floor. Her hand was soft and warm in his.

He leaned towards her, one of his hands went towards her waist and the steps of the dance continued. Others had joined the dance as well.

"Jon Cailin, you are still as good at dancing as I remembered." Wynfryd said to him while they moved.

"Oh but I'm improving. Do you remember when the first time you danced with me at Winterfell few years ago Wynfryd?" Jon replied.

"Yes. You stepped on my toes a few times but still danced far better than your brother and that Grejoy." Jon chuckled at this.

"Guess I have turned better each time you danced with me since then." Jon said. Wynfryd Manderly had visited Winterfell many times in last few years with her sister and father or grandfather.

"The beard suits you, you know." Wynfryd said next. 

"Aye, I know." They were closer to each other now. Jon could inhale the scent coming from her. She smelled of wildflowers. 

Jon continued the conversation this time with a somewhat direct question "Does your grandfather still wishes for my brother Robb Stark's hand for you?" 

"I'm sure he does. And well, he won't mind you either." Wynfryd replied with some strange look in her eyes.

"I'm but a small Lord of a large keep. Not much food, resources or people I have. The swamps surround my lands." Jon told her with a soft laughter.

"He certainly believes you will rise high and make something more worthy out of Moat Cailin. I believe it too." Wynfryd said to him.

"And? Would you mind?" Jon asked her.

The music continued and before she could give him any response, she was swept away by another. Jon was in the hands of a Lady from Widow's Watch now as they exchanged partners. Bryen Reed didn't dance he noticed and Wylla was absent.

The thought of marrying struck in his mind. He would have to definitely marry one day. A match with White Harbor was no doubt one of the best matches for Jon. Wynfryd was intelligent, pretty, well learnt and involved in the administration of White Harbor. Her House was the second most powerful in the North. Marrying her would give Jon a good amount of dowry and an easy access to the silver vaults of the only true city in the North.

But still there was some hesitation in other part of his mind. You would be giving them too much hold over you.

The Manderlys were very influential. They had been part of the rebuilding of Moat Cailin and controlled the only city in the Northern kingdom of Westeros. Jon's fortress already depended too much on White Harbor.

If he were to find a better match South that would make him more rich and influential, he would definitely consider it more. He might also gain a foothold in South with it.

Lord Manderly would still assist him despite marrying his granddaughter or not.

Jon decided not to dwell much on these worries and focused on enjoying the feast. There were still plenty of years before he would agree to a marriage.

He danced with many and drank whole heartedly. Bryen warned him to drink at a limit as to not lose his wits. The Crannogman had left a bit early. Jon still felt some effect of the drinks on his mind.

The feast was nearing its end now. Lord Manderly had left a long ago. His sons were also gone now. Wynfryd was still present though Jon noted. Wylla had also returned to the feast sometime ago. She had not danced with him today, he remembered.

The music dwindled and only a few had remained in the great hall. Some were still leaving. Wynfryd Manderly shifted and sat closer to Jon near his own seat. She looked a little tipsy he noticed.

"Our conversation wasn't complete." She said and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, I guess so. And?" Jon questioned.

She didn't answer but leaned closer and gazed into his eyes. For a moment he just looked into her eyes and then brought his face closer to her. He could feel her breath. 

But before anything could have happened, Wylla cleared her throat awakardly and the spell broke. 

He didn't knew whether to feel annoyed or relieved. He was unsure what would've proceeded otherwise. 

"I didn't got a dance with you Lord Cailin." Wylla said as she stood near them.

"And whose fault that might be My Lady? As I recall you were absent for most of the feast." Jon told her with a little laugh.

Wynfryd was looking at her sister with annoyance, "The feast is over now. Where were you all this time?"

"Easy sister. Who says you need music and feast for a dance? Besides if we need a song, you are good at singing." Wylla said with a giggle.

"You still didn't answer my question." Wynfryd glared at her younger sister.

Jon broke the tension, "Alright girls. The hour is long now. Perhaps we all require some rest. I will give you a dance Wylla, then probably it would be best that I retire. I have a long journey to make." 

Wynfryd looked like she might protest but still nodded.

Jon asked a minstrel who was still present in the hall to play a small song and gave Lord Manderly's youngest granddaughter a dance. They didn't conversed much. And Jon was too tired to talk anyway. After completing the dance he gave a kiss on the hands of both the sisters and made his way towards his chambers.

He easily collapsed on the bed and fell asleep. That night he again dreamt of ice and snow. But this time he also saw a winged wolf waking up.

Their ship departed around afternoon the next day. Jon and Bryen Reed were standing on the deck with Wendel Manderly watching White Harbor fading in distance. 

He had spent less than two days here but the time was eventful. He had made some new trade agreements with some merchants in White Harbor. Contracts were made regarding the supply of goods from the Neck. He would have to meet with Lord Howland Reed to finalize the contracts. 

Lord Wyman and Ser Wylis with his wife had come to see him off to his journey. Wylla was present as well but surprisingly Wynfryd wasn't.

Was she embarrassed? He thought. They had gotten too close to something the last night. It was probably for the best that nothing happened. His mind whispered. Jon wasn't sure he would have been able to control himself if Wylla hadn't interrupted at that moment. His next meeting with Wynfryd was definitely going to be awkward.

He was now standing on the ship Sea Merman watching his hawk Frelis pluck something to eat from the sea. He saw Ser Wendel engaged in some conversation with the ship captain. Jon turned to Bryen Reed, "I saw you being dull at the feast yesterday. You don't like them?"

"It's not that I don't like them. I just can't bring myself to enjoy them." He answered. 

Jon knew something had to do with his past. He was mostly cryptic on it and Jon hadn't pried him.

"If you don't mind me asking, Why haven't you married till now? Have a wife and children. You have been castellan of Moat Cailin for years now." Jon said to him.

There was silence for some moments. Bryen Reed looked sorrowful and closed his eyes once. 

"I had a wife once. She died from an illness that took her and our unborn children. I knew they were twins. She was pregnant and I couldn't save her or the children." Bryen told Jon dejectedly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Jon said in a regretful tone.

Bryen looked towards Jon but his mind seemed elsewhere, "She was not of the North. She loved me fiercely. Followed me into the Neck. When she died I felt like all purpose had left me. That was many years back. Lord Howland saw me withering away and gave me the Stewardship of Moat Cailin. Since then I dedicated myself to it. Tried to heal old scars but they never faded. Even now sometimes when I close my eyes, I see her face. Life fading away from her eyes. I find it hard to enjoy anything." 

Jon wanted to say something but no right words came to his mouth. So he stayed silent.

"When I see you, I feel like you were destined for greatness. There is more to you than it meets the eye. You also feel like a younger brother to me." Bryen finished. 

Jon just stared into the sea. He sees me like his younger brother or lost children.

The next few days on the ship went almost similarly. Jon's stomach remanied upset for many days. It was his first journey through a ship. He sparred a little with the crewmen. Heard stories from Wendel and surprisingly also from Bryen. 

The distance from White Harbor to King's Landing was two to three weeks depending on the winds and storms.

During the journey, he saw the coasts of Islands of the infamous Three Sisters, the Fingers and Gulltown of the Vale. 

Their ship was set on a direct course to King's Landing. So there were no stops to be made.

When they entered the Blackwater Bay and passed nearby Dragonstone, Jon felt like something calling him or stirring inside him. They crossed Driftmark and finally reached King's Landing. 

They docked in the shipyard and upon stepping on the land the first thing he noticed was the smell. Gods the city stank. He heard about the smell and was warned by Ser Wendel but still experiencing it was another thing. 

They had remained in the harbor for two hours when Jory Cassel came to them. The captain of the Stark Household guard was keeping an eye on harbor waiting for their arrival as Lord Manderly had sent a raven to Lord Stark informing him.

Their party entered through one of the gates of the city nearby the harbor. The streets in this city was full and it felt like they were overflowing. They reached Aegon's High Hill and Jon's gaze fell on the Red Keep looming at the top. Red stone walls visible from a distance. 

Upon entering the Red Keep a small group was awaiting them. Jon recognized many men from Winterfell including Vayon Poole. Lord Stark was not present though. His eyes fell on the small figure standing with them. Without looking a second time he knew it was Arya. Beside her was the tall red head of his other sister Sansa. There was some visible distance between both of them he noticed.

He dismounted and without waiting for any courtesies Arya all but threw her arms at him. Jon lifted her up and smiled. Sansa came behind her with the courtesy of a proper Lady. Jeyne Poole the daughter of Vayon Poole was also present. 

Bryen, Ser Wendel and Jon followed the others to the Tower of the Hand.

They climbed the stairs and were led to a meeting hall where Lord Stark was waiting for him. 

"Lord Stark". Jon greeted followed by Bryen and Ser Wendel. 

"Ser Wendel." "Lord Bryen." "Jon" Eddard Stark returned.

"I hadn't expected that you will be here for a tourney." He looked towards Jon, stone faced and with some sweat visible on his brows. It looked like that the weather of the South didn't suit him.

"I didn't even care about a tourney till I heard the winning amounts. The King spends wholeheartedly. I had wished to gain some funds to follow through some of my endeavors at Moat Cailin. I want to install glass gardens there." Jon told his father.

"Good thought from you. But I warn you that the Crown's position at coin is not at its best, so I won't be much help to you." Ned Stark replied.

"Don't worry Lord Stark, I will win the tourney and take the coin. Besides this I have some trade deals to make. What better place than the capital. Lord Manderly has referred me to some merchants in the city. I shall meet them while I stay here for the tourney." Jon said.

"I would see what I shall be able to do to help you. We have much more to discuss. And I also have some good news to tell you." His father told him.

"Your brother Bran has woken up. I recieved a raven some days ago." He continued. 

Jon felt relived after hearing it. He had promised Bran he would come to see him as soon as possible. It would take some time. A letter would have to do for now.

"Now, Vayon show Lord Bryen and Ser Wendel their rooms in the guest wing of this Tower. Jon, I had them prepare your chambers in the family quarters. You had a long journey. Relax and we will talk more later." Lord Stark finished. 

Arya grabbed his hand took him to his chambers. Jon felt his hawk Frelis flying over the city. He closed his eyes and saw the city from the sky. It felt a giant swarm filled with buildings and other structures. 

After being alone in his chambers, he grasped a goblet of wine present at a table and drank it. 

Time in King's Landing would surely be interesting.

Chapter Text

Jon had arrived in King’s Landing eight days before the tourney.

The first day he had spend entirely in the Red Keep. Sansa and Arya had accompanied him in a tour of the castle for some time before they left for their lessons. Sansa with the Septa and Arya to Syrio Forel- the Water Dancer from Braavos. Jon was left alone. Bryen Reed had declined and Ser Wylis was away in the city. 

Jon explored the castle with Lewis, one of his men-at-arms and a Stark Guard named Daryn. The Red Keep seemed a different place from the rest of King’s Landing.

As Jon reached the throne room, he took in the sight of the Iron Throne.

It was large. Larger than he expected and imposing. And also very uglier. The charred swords of Aegon the Conqueror’s defeated enemies formed the seat of the King of the Seven Kingdoms. The steps leading to it were long and one misstep could make you bleed. No King should sit easy. He remembered from Maester Luwin’s lessons. He wondered how Robert Baratheon might look on the throne and all he conjured was an unpleasant picture in his mind.

He heard footsteps coming toward him and then heard a voice he knew well. Jamie Lannister.

“Magnificent? Isn’t it?” The Kingslayer said to him with the typical arrogant bravado worn on his face. His white cloak flowed behind him.

“And a lot uglier than I imagined.” Jon replied.

“This is the same place where your grandfather was burned alive by the Mad King. And your uncle Brandon strangled himself to death. I still remember their screams.” Lannister continued.

Jon felt slight anger rise inside him. What are you trying to poke Kingslayer?

“And you just stood there and watched?” Jon asked the Kingslayer.

“Hundreds stood there and watched. Nobody uttered a sound or lifted a finger while Aerys Targaryen laughed.” Jamie Lannister’s expression changed a little. And he saw maybe a bit of fear.

“Yet it didn’t stop you from killing him when your father’s man started sacking the city.” Jon said and saw the Kingsguard’s face darken. 

In a barely concealed fury the Lannister grumbled, “Don’t speak about things you barely know about boy!” 

Any response Jon might have given him didn’t leave his mouth as they heard another set of footsteps. Another knight wearing the white cloak was making his way towards them. His hair was long and white.  His face elderly. The knight’s posture was straight and age didn’t seemed to have an effect on his stride. That man could be none other than the most famous knight in Westeros.

Ser Barristan Selmy. The Bold. 

Jon felt like a boy in front of the Lord Commander of King Robert Baratheon’s Kingsguard. A green boy meeting some famous warrior.

“Ser Jamie.” The Bold greeted. “And Ser?” He turned towards Jon.

“Jon Cailin. Natural born son of Lord Eddard Stark. A pleasure to meet you Ser. I had been a bit disappointed when you hadn’t come to Winterfell with the King’s retinue. It’s delightful to meet someone whose songs and stories you have heard from childhood. You are a living legend Ser.” Jon told the old knight.

Barristan Selmy stared at him unusually for a moment and then composed himself. 

Was he surprised to see the honourable Ned Stark’s bastard? Jon wondered.

A smile came upon the White Knight's face as he said to Jon, “You flatter me, young Lord. The Stark look is strong in you. Are you here for the tourney in the honour of your Father’s appointment as the new Hand?”

“That and a few more matters good Ser. Will you participate in the tourney too?” Jon asked

Ser Barristan sighed, “I have become old for tourneys now. But I might just participate in the joust.”

“Don’t believe his words Cailin. He may look old but he still won a tourney not many years ago.” Jamie Lannister interrupted.

“And you Ser Jamie? Are you going to enter the tourney?” Jon questioned as he looked towards the Lannister.

“I will enter the joust probably. Not participating in the Melee this time. So you might get a chance in it  atleast.” Jamie replied and his smug smile was back.

“We shall see.” Jon said to him with a grin on his face and then excused himself out of the Throne Room.

Later that evening he had dined with his father and sisters in the Tower of the Hand. Bryen Reed and Ser Wendel Manderly were invited as well by Lord Stark. They had attended. Sometime after the meal both of them had excused themselves and only Jon and his family remained at the table.

Jon finally decided to ask.

“Why did Lady died? What had happened?” He looked from Lord Stark to his sisters.

Sansa looked towards, him and then Arya, some tears rising in her eyes, “It’s Arya’s fault. Nymeria had bit Prince Joffery. She couldn’t control her wolf and sweet Lady died for it.”

“Liar! If you had spoken truth, then your wolf might have been alive.” Arya shouted.

“Enough both of you.” Lord Stark said in an authoritative voice.

“I was playing with Mycah, the butcher’s boy. We were near the river when Sansa came with her Prince. He stopped us and started to hurt Mycah. I tried to stop him but he attacked me. Nymeria just defended me. When the King asked Sansa what happened, she lied and the Queen killed Lady. Now Nymeria is gone as well in the forests and Mycah murdered by Joffery’s dog.” Arya told Jon. Her voice calmer with hurt now.

“Is Arya speaking true Sansa? Did you lie to the King?” Jon asked her.

“..I.” Sansa tried to say something but no words came. Gods the girl.

“Remember Sansa we are a pack. We must protect ourselves against the others. You know yourself that what you did led to Lady being killed.” Jon told Sansa who had tears in her eyes.

“And Arya, this is not Winterfell where father may protect you from everything. You should always think before you act. Now both of you apologize and try to forgive each other. "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies...” He looked towards Arya who still had unapologetic look on her face.

“But the pack survives.” The three of them finished together.

Eddard Stark nodded, “Well said. Girls now its time for you to retire. Jon follow me to my solar.” 

EDDARD 

Ned Stark led Jon Snow to his solar. He had tried much to keep Jon away from the South and now he had sailed directly to mouth of the Snake pit of King’s Landing. 

He should have known this would happen someday. 

You cannot keep him tucked under your eye all the time. A voice said from inside.

Ned had a thought to tell Jon about the assassination attempt on Bran that Catelyn had told him. But ultimately decided against it. 

Jon would no doubt do something that Ned would regret.

I will not lose another Stark to King’s Landing. I can still tell him when he’s about to leave the city.

Ned’s mind was made.

He entered the solar and gestured Jon to sit.

“How are your days at Moat Cailin going?”

“I have been busy. Many ideas have come to my mind regarding the swamps. I also have a request to make from you.” Jon answered.

“What that might be?” Ned asked curiously.

“I want to settle more people in the Neck. King’s Landing is already overflowing with population. Though I want it to be few years from now when I call more people there. Taking some there should be helpful in the current scenario.” Jon said.

Ned frowned “You want to settle Southerners from the capital in the Neck. I don’t know how would they adapt there. Life would be different and difficult for them up North.” 

He continued, “Though some of the poorest won’t mind if you just fill their belly. I will allow you to take only a few with you at first. See how they settle in your lands and then decide to take more.” 

“Fine, Lord Stark.” Jon replied.

“Though I don’t approve participating in tourneys, I won’t stop you. This would be your first tourney. I have asked Jory to spend some time with you regarding the tourney. He has participated in Southern Tourneys before.” Ned told Jon who just nodded.

“I don’t want to you to do something brave or foolhardy in the tourney. Your life or body must not be compromised. You will wear the best quality steel in the tourney. I’m going to visit Tobho Mott’s shop at the Street of Steel in two days. You should come with me as well to get a good armor for your size.” As Ned said this he saw a smile form up on Jon’s face.

“Of course, Lord Stark.” Jon replied.

Ned nodded. When was the last time he called me father? Ned didn’t remember.

“I will retire now. You can head back to your chambers.” Jon stood up and went walking towards the door. At last Ned said, “And Jon remain careful in the capital.”

Jon just said, “I shall be” and exited his solar.

Left alone, Ned sank back into his chair and looked through the window. King’s Landing seemed to eat him alive. Once more he regretted taking Robert’s offer and coming South. How he missed the cool air of North and Winterfell. 

He had many things going through his mind right now. He had to rule the realm. Find Jon Arryn’s murderer. Keep the Lannister’s in check and bring justice for his son.

And then there was Jon.

JON

Jon was traveling to Tobho Mott’s shop with Lord Stark at the Street of Steel. Bryen Reed had accompanied him as well. Jon had been told that the smith had the skill to rework Valyrian Steel.

The man they had wanted was all the way up on Visenya's Hill. In a huge house of timber and plaster whose upper stories loomed over the narrow street. The double doors showed a hunting scene carved in ebony and weirwood. A pair of stone knights stood sentry at the entrance, armored in fanciful suits of polished red steel that transformed them into griffin and unicorn. They left their horses and made their way inside.

A slim young serving girl took quick note of Lord Stark’s badge and the sigil on his doublet, and the master came hurrying out, all smiles and bows. “Wine for the King’s Hand,” he told the girl, gesturing Eddard Stark to a couch. “I am Tobho Mott, my lord, please, please, put yourself at ease.”

He wore a black velvet coat with hammers embroidered on the sleeves in silver thread, Around his neck was a heavy silver chain and a sapphire as large as a pigeon’s egg. 

“If you are in need of new arms for the Hand’s tourney, you have come to the right shop. My work is costly, and I make no apologies for that, my lord,” he said as he filled silver goblets. “You will not find craftsmanship equal to mine anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms, I promise you. Visit every forge in King’s Landing if you like, and compare for yourself. Any village smith can hammer out a shirt of mail; my work is art.” 

Jon looked around the shop with Bryen Reed while Lord Stark conversed with Tobho Mott. He heard them talking about Jon Arryn and his visits. 

The shop was filled with steel. There were swords spears, armors, chain mail, helms and many other weapons. 

A black coloured steel armor caught his eye.

He picked it up and showed the fine steel to Bryen Reed.

“The steel feels exceptional. The armor is slight wide for you. If you choose to buy it, it should be adjusted for your size. The helm might fit you well.” Bryen said.

Many armors decorated the shop. They would’ve been better or poorer but Jon’s mind was made up on the black coloured armor. 

He heard the sound of a gate opening and felt heat coming from a forge. Jon turned around to see a boy around his age coming towards Lord Stark and Tobho Mott. His arms and chest corded with muscle. 

He had shaggy, unkempt ink black hair and blue eyes. His body was covered with sweat and he had a strong built. His face felt somewhat familiar to Jon.

“He has the King’s look.” Bryen said in a voice low as a whisper.

Realization came to Jon. The boy is a bastard of Robert Baratheon. 

Knowing the activities of the King. He might be having dozens of bastards in King’s Landing.

Not all bastards are cared well by their father.

You are a lucky bastard. Tyrion Lannister’s words echoed in his mind.

“This is Gendry. Strong for his age, and he works hard. Show the Hand that helmet you made, lad.” Almost shyly, the boy led them to his bench, and a steel helm shaped like a bull’s head, with two great curving horns. The work looked brilliant and Eddard Stark appreciated him.

Then Lord Stark proceeded to ask a lot of questions from the boy Gendry regarding the visits of Jon Arryn, Stannis Baratheon and what they wanted from him. During this time Jon and Bryen went towards the forge. 

It was one of the biggest forge he had ever seen. Much larger than Mikken's back at Winterfell. Several men and boys were working there. Most of them young. 

As they came back, Lord Stark was in some conversation with Tobho Mott and the boy Gendry had returned to the forge.

Jon picked up the black armor he selected and turned to Mott. 

"Master Mott. I want this armor to be fitted for my size and ready before the tourney." Jon said to the Qohorik blacksmith.

Tobho Mott glanced towards Ned Stark who nodded. 

"It would be ready at least two to three days before the tourney. One of the best works here. And priced for its good quality. Would you want something more to add to it my young Lord? A direwolf on the breastplate or an elegant detail upon the helm to signify your station?" Mott told Jon.

Jon pondered for a moment and then spoke, "A direwolf on the breastplate would do good. A direwolf side faced with a red coloured eye. As for the helm keep it simple. I don't want some excess work obstructing my view or making the helm even a tiny bit inconvenient."

"It would be done as you wish my Lord. I will send one of my men to the Tower of the Hand to inform when it is completed. As for the red eye on the breastplate, a ruby would make it look remarkable." Mott said.

A ruby. This man is trying to make the armor as expensive as well possible. Jon thought.

Beside him Jon's father frowned. 

"A ruby you say? I don't know what more value does it add other than expense. Surely, there are alternatives to such opulence?" Ned Stark said.

"An armor that quality deserves atleast a ruby on it. Pardon me my Lord Hand. If you say I would find something cheaper as a substitute." Mott shrugged.

"No need. Put a ruby on it and let's finish this discussion." Ned Stark finally said. 

One of the apprentices came and measured Jon's size. They negotiated the price of the armor and finally settled. Jon had to admit that despite the great quality, the armor was truly costly.

Half was paid now and other half was due when the armor was complete. Jon also wanted to get a longsword forged for him but decided that he would approach the smith later. Jon didn't want to depend on his father. He was a Lord of his own now after all.

He took one last look at Mott’s shop and the boy Gendry who was now looking at him. And followed his father and Bryen Reed to the exit.

King's Landing was hot, truly hot. Jon had shed his fur cloak the day he had arrived. How Lord Stark still wore his thick fur cloak bewildered Jon. No wonder why he sweated so much in the Capital.

His days were busy. He went to the city daily to meet with different merchants to draw amd negotiate trade agreements.

Bryen Reed accompanied him in all the meetings and Ser Wendel in many. 

One day he had also visited the Sept of Baelor with Sansa and Arya. Arya had frowned all time. Sansa had made prayers and lit candles to the Seven-Who-are-One except the Stranger. There were almost no candles burning at the altar of the God who brought death as per the Andals. 

Jon then decided to light a candle for the Stranger. He had no faith in the Seven but the Stranger still fascinated him. 

The Sept looked truly rich and prosperous. If one compared to the Old Gods, all this felt an unnecessary extravagance when you have so many of your followers in the city struggling for food. 

The High Septon was a fat old man whom they had glimpsed from far. His robes were rich and the Crown he wore was made of gold and jewels.

So much for a man devoted to the Gods.

When they reached the Red Keep, dusk was settling in. Arya had promised to take him to the dragon skulls that day. 

By the time they got free the night had settled on. His youngest sister however was resolved to take him to the dragon skulls. She somehow sneaked out of her room and met Jon in the courtyard.

He followed her to a narrowed path near an old tower from where the steps descended.

The steps were dark and only light was their lantern. What was this little girl doing here alone while she navigated this passage? Jon wondered. 

As they walked Jon continued talking with Arya in low voice. 

"Little sister what were you doing to find these hidden routes? Ever thought what would've happened if you got lost or worse taken by ghosts in dark?" Jon asked Arya with a smirk that almost belied the concern underneath.

She made an annoyed face. 

"The dancing master had asked me to catch cats. I was following one one day and she led me here. I reached the dragon skulls in the dungeons and still failed to catch it. Then I followed it and.." Arya paused while speaking and started facing downwards. 

Jon felt worried at her sudden pause and grabbed her hand to ask what happened. 

Arya exhaled sharply and looked towards Jon, "I was following the cat and got deeper in the tunnels. The..the cat jumped and got lost. When I found it, I was lost and I felt afraid Jon.." her voice broke.

She continued, "Somehow I went ahead in the tunnels as my mind said and found myself outside at some distance from the River Gate near a cavern." 

"By the Old Gods,  Arya you went all alone in those tunnels and found yourself outside the city! Something could have happened to you! Imagine how father would have felt. Never do anything like that again." Jon hugged her. 

"Jon I still remember the way, we can go and see other secret passages as well." Arya smiled.

There is no shame in this little wolf. Jon sighed.

They reached the dragon skulls. Robert Baratheon had put them in the cellars of Red Keep when he took the throne.

It was one of most marvelous sights Jon had ever saw.

There were many skulls present. The largest of them could only be Balerion the Black Dread. His jaw was so big that even a cart would've been swallowed. No wonder Targaryens answered to neither Gods nor men when they rode those beasts.

Arya went towards the second largest skull and exclaimed to him, "Jon! Look this is Vhagar! Queen Visenya's dragon." Jon smiled. Visenya Targaryen was always Arya’s favorite.

Some of the small skulls were of the last dragon hatchlings who only reached the size of cats. 

Jon touched the bones of one of the dragons that was kept there and felt some warmth coming in his hands. Some of the heat still lingered in them. Fire made flesh.

They spent some time there and returned to the Red Keep.

The next day Jon took Bryen Reed with him and Arya and they navigated the tunnel that took Arya out of the city. Jon had to credit his sister's memory. Despite being lost she still remembered her way.

After much time they reached the cavern Arya had told him about. It was many feet above the sea and a treacherous stair was carved on the cliff leading to the sea.

The River Gate also called the Mud Gate in King’s Landing was visible in the distance. 

Upon returning the way they came, they were in the middle of the tunnels when Bryen Reed stopped suddenly and gestured them to hide.

They hid behind a large rock and stayed silent. A child was standing in the dark. Sometime later a man hidden in a dark cloak came forward from a nearby tunnel. He took out a pouch and gave it to the child. The child passed another pouch to the man. They didn't spoke a word and the man and the child returned to the shadows.

Jon and his companions waited for few minutes. Then Arya spoke, "What were they doing? The child and the man?" 

Bryen Reed shook his head. 

"The child was likely an informant. The spy master Spider is said to use little birds. It was one of those little birds." 

Jon gasped "So that eunuch uses children for his network. Not bad. Children can slip unnoticed from places." As he said that he looked towards Arya mischievously. She punched him on his arm.

"What do you say about going through the tunnel where that child went?" Jon asked and turned to Bryen.

"Are you sure?"

Jon nodded.

"Then let's move then." Bryen finished.

They followed in that path and exited the tunnel near an alley on the Fishmonger's Square. 

Jon was amazed by the depth of these tunnels. There were likely more leading to different parts of the Red Keep and the city. If he lived here, he would've loved to map most of them. This stinking city had its own charms. He had to admit.

The Tourney had increased the number of people coming in the city and guests in the Red Keep as well.

He had trained well in the days leading to the tourney. Jon was confident about the Melee. He was also good with lance. In Winterfell Robb was marginally better than him. Here in the South, knights regularly participated in tourneys and were better experienced than the Northmen. Not that any of it would matter when Bryen Reed does his work.

He daily sparred with many knights in the training yard of the Red Keep. Ser Aron Santagar the Dornish Master-at-arms of the Red Keep was regularly involved though he was no match for Jon. The Knight of the Flowers had also sparred with him once. Ser Loras Tyrell was good, he had to admit but Jon’s own instincts were much better than him. He had soundly defeated him. 

The best experience of all that time though was sparring with Ser Barristan Selmy. The old knight was great with the sword. His age might fool someone. Jon came to yard early everyday just to cross swords with him. He had bested Jon five times but in the sixth time, Jon had made him yield.

It was a feeling like he had torn a star from the sky. But also lead to his mind wondering how the fuck had he lost to the bloated King Robert Baratheon. Had he underestimated him due to his fat size? It didn't matter now. He might even find a way to crack Jamie Lannister who still pushed him to the dirt every time.

He had practiced jousting as well with Jory Cassel. Though Jory was not that good practice, he still went with him for the sake of Lord Stark. Jon had noticed that since his skinchanging power had turned better, his control and influence over his horse Snowstorm while riding had increased. He had become a far better horserider than he was before.

He had the plan to leave King’s Landing as soon as possible when the Tourney ended. All of his trade work had been done. He had explored some of the important parts of the city. And visited certain brothels the Imp had bragged about as well. Though one of them had belonged to the Master of Coin Petyr Baelish. He had heard that the man also known as Littlefinger had once challenged Jon's uncle Brandon Stark for the hand of Lady Catelyn Tully and was beaten bloody.

He had personally greeted Jon as he was present in the brothel that time and had called himself a friend of Lady Stark. Every instinct in Jon distrusted that slimy man. There was something extremely cunning and dangerous behind his warm smiles that rubbed Jon the wrong way. 

Three days before the tourney, the armor was delivered by Tobho Mott. And the master had assured him as well that the order for was Jon's longsword which he had placed few days ago would be completed before his departure.

The armor had fitted perfectly on Jon and when Jon had shown himself to his father and sisters dressed in that armor, Arya had cried out in excitement and had asked for a armor for her as well. Sansa had called him a Knight from the songs. Their astonishment was the same as when he had shown them his hawk Frelis in the Godswood. 

Jon's father, well speaking of him, he had some unreadable expression on his face as he saw Jon in the armor. He had just nodded with his Lord's face. Though Jon had to admit that his face had paled for the barest of seconds first.

All was set and it was time to win the Tourney.

Chapter Text

Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the small folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. 

There were many merchants, stalls, jugglers, tricksters, mummers present near the Tourney grounds. 

The nobles had arrived from the Vale, Riverlands, Reach, Stormlands, some from Westerlands and a few from as far as Dorne. Lesser Lords to Higher Lords. Heirs and spares to Hedge Knights and Freeriders. Jon had recognized the Lord of Runestone. The Bronze Yohn Royce. Yohn Royce had once traveled North to escort his son Ser Waymar Royce to the Wall. His heir Ser Andar Royce and second son Ser Robar Royce were participating in the tourney. A girl younger than them wearing Royce colors could only be Ysilla Royce, the daughter of the Vale Lord. 

There was the bald Red Priest Thoros of Myr. Ser Balon Swann of Stonehelm. The man with red gold hair and sigil of purple lightning, Lord of Blackhaven Beric Dondarrion. Some other Marcher Lords. The Redwyne Twins Ser Hobber and Ser Horas. The Knight of the Flowers was in a chat with the King’s Brother Renly Baratheon, the Lord of Storm's End. There was Lord Jason Mallister and his son from the Seagard. And more than half a dozen Freys of The Crossing.

The King arrived flanked by his Kingsguard, followed by his wife and the royal children. He roared and announced the start of the Tourney. 

Jon went to his tent. Bryen Reed was sitting there. "Do it at your will. And make sure it doesn't look too suspicious. Maybe you can intervene in some other tilts as well." Jon said. 

"You make too many demands My Lord." Bryen replied with a smile.

"And I'm sure you would still oblige by them." Jon told Bryen.

Soon the flaps of the tent opened and Arya entered. Jon nodded to Bryen Reed who exited. 

Jon had no squire, unlike most of the knights. Honestly he didn't even need one. But when Arya all but begged Jon to squire for him in tourney, making a face like a pup he wasn't able to deny her.

So now Jon was ready to dress into his armor. He picked up the gambleson and wore it. Next was the armor.

Arya picked it up and helped Jon put it. The black steel shinning with a crimson ruby eyed direwolf encrusted in the breastplate. Ghost. Jon thought. How he missed his silent companion.

He put on the helm and looked towards Arya who was staring at him in awe. 

"Come on Little She-Wolf. Let's not keep the jousters waiting." Jon said as they made their way out. Snowstorm was ready to gallop as Jon took its reins and went forward towards where his first tilt was going to take place. 

Jon was matched against a Knight from House Rosby. The Crownslander was not very tall but his built looked strong. 

He picked up a lance and a shield as the tilt was announced. Jon looked towards where his father and sister were seated. Ned Stark nodded while Sansa looked in anticipation.

The trumpets blowed and the two jousters rode towards each other. Snowstorm galloped steadily, and the air around Jon roared. The two lances met and crackling sound was heard. His opponents lance splintered on impact. Jon felt a little jolt but remained steady in his saddle. Snowstorm calm and quick. 

The Rosby Knight picked up a new one and in next pass when they met again, Jon shifted in his saddle and knocked his opponent into dirt. The Knight flew from his saddle while the crowd cheered. 

Jon had won his first round in the joust. He made his way towards Arya who took the reins of the horse from him and removed his helm.

In the second round, Jon's opponent was Ser Robar Royce of Runestone. He was a Knight well experienced in tourneys. His silvered steel plate was filigreed in bronze with inscribed runes. 

The horns were blowed and the tilt began. 

The horses galloped towards each other and wind whistled in Jon's ears. With a sharp sound the lances collided in a dramatic clash and shattered into splinters. Jon felt the impact on his body. A ripple of pain through his arm.

Second pass went as they picked up new lances and charged again. Ser Robar's lance broke against Jon while his stuck the Vale Knight near the shoulder. 

Horns blowed and they charged again. 

The lances broke again. Both of them barely clinging to their horses. Jon was in a better position though. His mind entered Snowstorm for a moment and soothed the horse. Do something now Reed. Jon thought.

The next pass started as Jon and his opponent once again rode towards each other. This time though the mount of Ser Robar shrieked a little. Jon's lance struck true and the Valeman was unseated from his horse. Ser Robar landed on the ground. Victory was achieved.

Jon led his horse towards Ser Robar and helped him to his feet. The crowd roared loudly at the display. Acting chivarlic. Jon mused.

Ser Robar nodded and applauded him on his victory.

Arya came and took Snowstorm. Jon looked towards the pavilion and saw Sansa clapping, Lord Stark in conversation with the King and Bryen Reed smiling. 

Jon removed his armor when he reached the tent. He had one more joust left today. Winning it would take him to the final four. Arya entered and gave him a flask of water which he drank whole heartedly. 

"You rode well Jon. Knocked both of them into dirt. I also want to ride like you." Arya said with a smile.

"Of course little sister. Now we have one more round to go. Let's go and see what else is happening." Jon replied.

They went outside and returned to their tent sometime later. 

The Kingslayer had unhorsed Ser Barristan and had made it to the final four. Ser Loras Tyrell had reached there as well. He had unhorsed three knights of the Kingsguard. 

Another to make into the last four was the giant Ser Gregor Clegane. 'The Mountain that Rides' as he was dubbed was a monstrosity of a man. Jon had seen the tall Umbers but even they dwarfed in front of the Mountain. Tywin Lannister’s most brutal bannerman. His lance had found the throat of a Vale Knight in his second joust and had instantly killed him. 

Now the last tilt of today's joust was remaining. Jon was facing Ser Gregor Clegane's brother Sandor Clegane 'The Hound'.

He was also a very tall man with half his face scarred and burnt. The Hound had unhorsed Renly Baratheon today and had broken his helm of antlers, then thrown it to the crowd.

Inside his tent Arya said to him angrily, "The Hound is Joffrey's dog. He killed Mycah." 

Joffery's dog. He would have to make him lose in a humiliating way. 

"Arya call Bryen Reed and wait outside." Jon told Arya. 

Arya returned some moments later with Bryen Reed and waited few seconds before exiting. 

"Sit, Bryen." Jon said.

"So what now, Jon?" Bryen replied.

"Next tilt is against the Hound. Joffrey's dog who killed Arya’s butcher boy. Make him lose in the first tilt and in a embarrassing way. I have a plan for Joffrey has well." Jon smiled slyly.

"Fine." Bryen nodded. 

Bryen exited and Arya entered again. Jon got dressed in his armor and made his way out for the final joust of the day.

Sandor Clegane stood menacingly with the dog shaped helm. Joffrey from the pavilion was shouting for his dog. 

Jon mounted Snowstorm and picked up a lance given by Arya. 

The trumpets blowed and the two jousters charged towards each other. 

Upon nearing, the Hound's horse shrieked badly and Sandor Clegane lost his balance. Jon's lance struck him and he fell to the ground with one of his leg still struck in the saddle. His horse dragged him ahead and his helm came out. 

The crowd booed him and some laughs were let out followed by cheers for Jon.

At the same time, Jon's hawk Frelis was flying nearby. Jon reached in his mind and made the hawk fly a little lower above the Royal Pavillion. Frelis dipped and shat where Crown Prince Joffery was sitting. 

It was done quickly and Frelis soared again in the sky. The Prince was a bit late to notice as his face and silk doublet were covered in bird shit. There were gasps and hidden laughs. Joffrey Baratheon face flushed red in anger and embarrassment as he ordered birds to be shot down.

Queen Cersei Lannister quickly took Joffrey away and the King Robert Baratheon just laughed. Does this man ever take anything serious? Jon wondered. 

Arya though was laughing wildly without stopping. 

Sansa the perfect lady also barely holding herself. 

As the the final joust for the day ended. Jon was making his way towards his tent with Arya when he saw the Hound making his way towards them.

He looked angry. 

"What did you do to my horse bastard?" The Hound snarled. 

"Only thing I did was to knock you to dirt Hound. You should better ask your horse Clegane." Jon smiled cruelly and went ahead without saying anything else.

Jon reached his tent and removed his armor. He was feeling exhausted. There is still the feast to go.

How he wished for a bath right now.

Ned Stark entered sometime later and sent Arya to the Septa to dress her for the feast. 

"I have arranged a bath for you. The large tent fourth from here. Vayon had made the necessary arrangements." Ned said.

He put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "You did well today. Robert was amused. Now get ready for the feast." 

With that he left. 

Jon made his way towards the bath where a maid was standing. He made her leave and washed himself clean. 

Jon got dressed and entered the feast which was taking place near the river side. Robert Baratheon was sitting at the centre laughing and joking. Jon's father was beside the King. 

Sansa was sitting next to Prince Joffery with her Septa beside her. Jon saw Arya and the empty seat next to her. He went there and sat beside her. 

The feast was grand as you would expect from King Robert Baratheon. Many courses were served. A thick soup of barley and venison. Salads of sweetgrass and spinach and plums, sprinkled with crushed nuts. Snails in honey and garlic. 

Later came sweetbreads and pigeon pie and baked apples fragrant with cinnamon and lemon cakes frosted in sugar. Drinks from the Arbor to the Dornish Red were served. Jon drank less and ate more. Arya chatted with him regularly while eating wholeheartedly.

The King was getting louder and louder with each course. Jon heard him roaring and arguing with the Queen about participating in the Melee. Good let him participate. I would definitely love a rematch. Jon thought. 

Robert Baratheon was now mocking the Kingslayer telling him how he would beat him with his hammer while his brother Renly was trying to calm him down. The whole drama looked laughable to Jon but he had enough and retired early from the feast. 

The jousting resumed the next day. The four participants remaining were Jon, Jamie Lannister, Gregor Clegane and Loras Tyrell.

Jon's tilt was first and it was against the 'Kingslayer' Ser Jamie Lannister. 

Well it will be fun to knock him down. Jon thought.

The Kingslayer came to him before the first pass. With a cocky grin he said, "Ready to face the ground 'Lord' Cailin. I hadn't expected you to come this far." 

Jon just shrugged off his mockery with a laugh and just said, "Eat dirt Lannister." 

The trumpets blowed the tilt began.

Jon charged towards Jamie Lannister who looked splendid in his white gold armor. The lances collided and broke with both of them remaining in the saddle. The second pass kicked off and they galloped towards each other. The Kingslayer's lance stuck heavily on Jon's shield and broke. Jon's lance hit the Lannister hard on the breastplate.

Two more passes came and went with lances breaking and Jamie Lannister barely holding to his horse in one. In next pass Bryen Reed finally had enough. 

As it began, Jon picked up a new lance and galloped towards the Kingslayer. 

The two jousters charged towards each other. Jon stuck his lance on his opponent's shoulder while moving in his saddle. At the same the Lannister’s horse lost its balance and Ser Jamie was thrown into the ground. 

There were huge cheers in the crowd. And most prominent was the King’s loud and mockery laugh. Jamie was helped to his feet by a squire. Jon waved towards the smallfolk who roared more. He then went towards Jamie Lannister and mocked him with a sly grin, "Getting old are we, Ser Jamie? Hope the dirt was up to your taste." The Lannister didn't reply.

Jon had reached the final of the joust. 

Now the other two jousters remaining made their way to the jousting field. It was Ser Loras Tyrell facing 'the Mountain' Ser Gregor Clegane.

The Knight of Flowers was dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a blinding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. His mount was a beautiful grey mare, built for speed. 

The Mountain's destrier seemed a pony in between his armored legs, and the lance he carried looked as small as a broom handle.

Ser Loras did something with his legs, and his horse pranced sideways, nimble as a dancer. Ser Gregor’s huge stallion trumpeted as he caught her scent. 

The Mountain was having trouble controlling his horse. The stallion was screaming and pawing the ground, shaking his head. He kicked at the animal savagely with an armored boot. The horse reared and almost threw him.

The Knight of Flowers saluted the king, rode to the far end of the list, and couched his lance, ready. Ser Gregor brought his animal to the line, fighting with the reins. And suddenly it began. The Mountain’s stallion broke in a hard gallop, plunging forward 
wildly, while the mare charged as smooth as a flow of silk.

Ser Gregor wrenched his shield into position, juggled with his lance, and all the while fought to hold his unruly mount on a straight line, and suddenly Loras Tyrell was on him, placing the point of his lance just there, and in an eye blink the Mountain was failing. He was so huge that he took his horse down with him in a tangle of steel and flesh.

Jon heard applause, cheers, whistles, shocked gasps, excited muttering, and over it all the rasping, raucous laughter of the Hound. The Knight of Flowers reined up. His lance was not even broken. His sapphires winked in the sun as he raised his visor, smiling. The commonfolk went mad for him.

In the middle of the field, Ser Gregor Clegane disentangled himself and came boiling to his feet. He slammed his helm down onto the ground. His face was dark with fury. “My sword,” he shouted to his squire, and the boy ran it out to him. By then his stallion was back on its feet as well. Gregor Clegane killed the horse with a single blow of such ferocity that it half severed the animal’s neck.

Cheers turned to shrieks in a heartbeat. The stallion went to its knees, screaming as it died. By then Gregor was striding down the lists toward Ser Loras Tyrell, his bloody sword clutched in his fist.

It all happened so fast. The Knight of Flowers was shouting for his own sword as the Mountain knocked his squire aside and made a grab for the reins of his horse. The mare scented blood and reared. Loras Tyrell kept his seat, but barely. 

The courser dashed away in panic with Loras Tyrell barely holding himself. But as Gregor lifted his sword for another blow, a rasping voice warned, “Leave him be,” and a steel-clad hand wrenched him away from the Tyrell Knight.

The Mountain pivoted in wordless fury, swinging his longsword in a killing arc with all his massive strength behind it, but the Hound caught the blow and turned it, and for what seemed an eternity the two brothers stood hammering at each other.

Loras Tyrell was helped to safety. 

It was the king’s voice that put an end to it . . . the king’s voice and twenty swords. "STOP THIS 
MADNESS,” he boomed, “IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!”

The Hound went to one knee. Ser Gregor’s blow cut air, and at last he came to his senses. He dropped his sword and glared at Robert, surrounded by his Kingsguard and a dozen other knights and guardsmen. Wordlessly, he turned and strode off, shoving past Barristan Selmy. “Let him go,” Robert said, and as quickly as that, it was over.

The final round of the joust was delayed for sometime. Ser Loras was mostly unscathed and was ready to face Jon. He was on a different horse this time. A strong looking destrier. No mare in heat this time. Jon thought. The trick was only useful once.

He greeted Jon before the tilt with proper courtesy.

There were more cheers and anticipation in the crowd for the Knight of Flowers.

Arya came to him with the reigns of Snowstorm. "Win Jon." She exclaimed.

Jon jumped on his horse and picked up a lance. Ser Loras was also ready on the other side.

The trumpets sounded and the tilt began. 

The first two passes ended with lances broken and both riders steady.

In the third pass, Jon was almost thrown from his saddle but his beloved horse Snowstorm remained steady and he held on to it. There were cheers from the crowd for the flowery Knight. 

Jon's Lance broke near Loras Tyrell's helmet on the fifth pass. He still held on. 

By the sixth pass Jon was getting impatient. He almost regretted his conversation with Bryen Reed earlier today.

"When I reach the final round try to not interfere at all. I want to win it on my own." Jon had told him.

Before the next pass Jon removed his helm for a moment, closed his eyes and stroked Snowstorm near its head. He felt his mind inside his horse and Jon tried to remain in his own mind at the same time. It worked and Jon felt a pressure on him. He was somehow both inside himself and Snowstorm. A sharp pain was starting in his brain. He put back his helm. And as the horns blowed galloped at a very high speed toward Loras Tyrell.

Upon nearing him Snowstorm jumped slightly in the air. Jon was inches above his saddle for a bit and his lance struck the Knight of Flowers passing beside his shield onto his leg. Ser Loras was knocked down from his horse. Jon gripped his own horse tightly as it landed and removed himself from Snowstorm's  mind. The horse neighed and Jon felt some pressure ease from his brain. Though the pain still lingered. 

There was utter silence and shocked gasps for a moment before huge claps and cheers were heard. 

Jon closed his eyes and remained in his saddle. Arya ran towards him and shouted his name. He heard his name being announced as the winner of the joust. He recognized the King’s booming voice calling 'Ned's boy'. He opened his eyes. The herald moved towards Jon and motioned in the direction where a cart was brought forward. Forty Thousand Gold Dragons finally. Jon gathered. The amount was kept in many bags surrounded by guards.

Jon gestured to Bryen Reed who came forward with three of his men from Moat Cailin and took the cart away. 

A man came forward towards Jon holding a crown of red roses. Crowning someone the Queen of Love and Beauty still remained. He had almost forgotten about the thing. Honestly Jon hadn't given a single thought about it. Neither had he spent any time, little more than greeting with any Ladies he encountered in King’s Landing. 

A sarcastic voice whispered in his mind. Crown Arya. He laughed inwardly at the thought of it. Arya disliked those things and would always hate him for it. 

He shook those thoughts and grabbed the flowery crown. Without pondering much he made the simplest decision. Jon took his horse near the main pavilion. He stopped in front of his sister Sansa and placed the crown in her lap. Her face was turned red like her hair with the blush coming on her. She said in a low voice like her throat was stuck, "Thank you brother!" 

Jon felt warmth at her calling him brother. She rarely did that due to her habit of keeping her mother and the Septa pleased. Most of the times either half-brother or just Jon. Though he never felt the need of affection from Sansa, it still felt good to see his sister acknowledge him without holding onto the views of her mother or the ugly Septa. 

Jon just nodded to her and slowly returned to his tent. Arya trotted behind. Once he dismounted, Arya closed the distance quickly and hugged him. 

"You WON! I knew you would win." She said with a cheer. 

Once they were inside Jon got out of his armor fastly and just collapsed on the temporarily made bed there. He requested Arya to leave him alone and watch the Archery competition that was next. She begrudgingly agreed and left him alone.

Jon felt some tiredness and exhaustion. I still have to participate in the Melee. There was still time for it to start. He decided to rest. Some of the pain from the final joust still felt in his head. Though much of it had faded away. 

Sometime later he was awake but still resting as Bryen Reed entered inside. 

He sat on a chair nearby. 

"That was unexpected. It takes even the experienced ones some time to keep two at control at the same moment. You are much stronger than I imagined." Bryen said. 

Jon knew what he was talking about. 

"There is still some pain in my head." Jon said. 

"Just some pain? You might have collapsed there boy. It was dangerous to do such thing without much preparation." Bryen replied with a tense expression. 

Jon didn't reply. 

"Anyways the Melee is in an hour. I would advise you to give your horse rest and use another in the Melee. It needs to recover as it was the first time when you controlled it in that manner. Your little squire sister will be here soon." Bryen told Jon and went outside after sometime.

Arya came sometime later and Jon went to see Harwin. 

He picked two of his best mounts present there for Jon. One was a strong black stallion, other a quick brown mare. 

Jon selected the mare. 

He returned to his tent and donned the armor. The Melee was about to start soon. The final event of the Hand’s Tourney. The Archery had finished. Anguy, an unheralded commoner from the Dornish Marches, won the archery competition, outshooting Ser Balon Swann and the exiled Prince from Summer Islands Jalabhar Xho at a hundred paces after all the other bowmen had been eliminated at the shorter distances.

Jon entered the Melee ground. 

More than forty men were taking part. Mostly freeriders and hedge knights and new-made squires in search of a reputation. The Melee felt a lot less lustrous than the Joust.

The prominent ones participating were the Red Priest Thoros of Myr with his flaming sword, Lord Beric Dondarrion, Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Boros Blount, the most unimpressive Knights of the Kingsguard. The Red Keep Master-at-arms Aron Santagar. The heir to Runestone Ser Andar Royce. Two Freys. Gregor Clegane 'The Mountain' was removed from the lists after his display earlier. Probably for the best. Jon thought. His brother the Hound was participating. Contrary to Jon's expectation the King decided not to participate.

Jon had chosen a blunted longsword to wield along with a shield. 

There were no rounds in this Melee. All the participants were competing at the same time in a chaotic manner. 

The trumpets sounded and the Melee started. 

Jon's first opponent was a poorly armored freerider or a Hedge Knight he couldn't tell the difference. He was no match for Jon. And was defeated easily. 

After sometime Jon was face to face with Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard. He was not as bad as Jon might have thought from looking at him. But still couldn't trouble Jon for enough time and was knocked unconscious. 

The Melee dragged on for a long time. Some of the men had teamed up against better fighters and later splitted against each other. Lord Beric Dondarrion was eliminated by a half mob. Some tried the same tactic against the Hound but were unsuccessful. Sandor Clegane had defeated Ser Andar Royce and frightened many others. The Red Priest Thoros of Myr had also taken out many including Aron Santagar. 

Jon had beaten both of the Freys. 

He now came face to face with the Hound. Only a handful of participants were remaining. Thoros of Myr was juggling two men at once on the other side.

The Hound started with fierce blows. Jon felt heavy impact on his shield and arms while parrying each strike. 

His assault was relentless with raw strength and strong strikes. The Hound allowed rare openings but Jon wasn't able to grasp any opportunities. Sandor Clegane was looking unstoppable today. 

Jon decided to change tactics. 

He moved his mare away from his opponent who gave him a chase. Jon turned at the last moment as Clegane's mount reached him. Jon threw his half splintered shield on the Hound's face and the huge man was late to intercept. It collided with his helm the Hound stagered back. 

Jon moved forward and sent aggressive strikes towards his opponent. The Hound was still parrying each blow but was on the defense now.

From the side Jon saw Thoros of Myr approaching having defeated the ones he was facing. And now only three participants remained. 

The Red Priest came and attacked Sandor Clegane from his right with his flaming sword. The Hound flinched for a moment seeing the sword but blocked the first onslaught. It gave an opening to Jon and he took the opportunity to strike. 

It was two on one and Sandor Clegane was defeated in a few minutes. He cursed and exited the Melee ground. 

Jon and Thoros of Myr remained now. 

They gave each other some time to breathe. The flames in the Red Priest's were burning low now. Thoros stepped off his horse wanting to fight on foot. Jon followed and unmounted his mare. 

The duel began with Jon taking the role of aggressor putting Thoros on defense. He had no shield now and grabbed his sword with both hands. Each blow was sharp and the Red Priest still managed to block them. 

Jon realized he was tired now, the intensity of his blows decreasing. Thoros was now slowly coming onto attacking. 

Each thrust send by him was deflected by Jon. He was now struggling to find an opening. The flames in Thoros's sword had died now.

Thoros staggered forward this time for a powerful savage blow. Jon saw an opening. He sidestepped and parried the blow while moving his knee and hitting it on his opponent's hip. Thoros grunted and crouched. Jon brought his sword and struck it on the Red Priest's wrist. 

Thoros's sword fell and Jon's longsword was immediately on his neck. 

"Yield?" Jon said. 

"I yield." came the answer. 

The Melee was finished. Jon had tasted victory for the second time today. 

The herald announced Jon as the winner. Crowd erupted in cheers. Jon removed his helm and saw Arya jumping in excitement.

Another cart came forward this time with Twenty Thousand Gold Dragons for the victory in Melee. 

Jon's men secured the cart with Bryen Reed and it took it away. 

Thoros of Myr appreciated Jon as he was helped to his feet. The King was making his way towards him as well. 

"Seven Hells boy! First you do that jump with your horse and now win Melee in the same day. Damn you Ned! Where were you hiding him in your cold wasteland!" Robert Baratheon boomed and patted Jon roughly on the shoulder while looking at Ned Stark. The King then proceeded to hug him. Jon could smell the stink in his breath. 

Finally he left Jon with his father. Sansa had also gotten up from her seat. The crown of roses was on her head. Arya was telling her something and they were laughing. Rare to see these two not fighting. Jon thought. 

They proceeded to Jon's tent. His father said to him when inside, "You could have injured yourself today or worse when your horse jumped like that today. You have won, I won't scold you today. But always remember the risks." 

Jon nodded. Can't he just enjoy for a while?

Sansa once again thanked him. Arya helped him out of his armor. Jon laid down on the bed. 

He had accomplished his purpose in King’s Landing. All Sixty Thousand Gold Dragons belonged to him now. 

Jon wondered what more would the future bring.