To read early
Chapter 10 : 'Bonding with a Snow'
Chapter 11 : 'The Ghosts of the Past'
Chapter 12 : 'Siblings'
Chapter 13 : 'The Dream'
Chapter 14: 'The Prince of Dragonstone'
Chapter 15: 'Stormborn'
Chapter 16: 'Siblings & Bastards'
Chapter 17: 'The Punishment'
Chapter 18: 'Blood and Tears.'
Chapter 19: 'Despair'
Chapter 20: 'A bundle of Joy'
support me on
w w w . p a t r(e)on (slash) MonsieurLAH
Enjoy reading !
Jon had done his best not to brood during dinner, but Lady Gilliane Stark born Glover, Rickon's wife, seemed to have immediately noticed something was wrong with him. It would be a reasonable explanation regarding her attentive behavior when the young prince shared a meal with his Stark brood. On the other hand Bennard Stark, Jon's grandfather, seemed displeased by his presence, or maybe it was his existence itself that displeased him. The boy assumed that his Valyrian ancestry was the cause of the man's ire, for the latter and his sons sharply questioned Jon regarding his knowledge of the North. Annoyed to be treated like a southerner from someone who was supposed to be his grandfather and who had never went North of Last Hearth, Jon took great pleasure in humiliating them all by demonstrating the vast knowledge he had acquired in both his lives, this included the five dialects of the Old tongue he had learned from Tania, the wildling girl who had tutored him, shocking everyone present including Rickon.
The Lord of Winterfell hated wildlings as much as any Northerner, to learn that one of them had been invited into the King's Court by Jaehaerys himself was an outrage in his eyes. Jon simply stated that Tania had left the lands north of the Wall in search for a better life, and had ended up in Essos where she lived an honest life. Rickon had not looked convinced at all, fortunately, his wife had been quick to ease the tension. Jon had considered asking about the strange boy his age he had seen in the courtyard, but chose to remain silent on that topic. After all, it was entirely possible that no one present knew anything about that boy, and Jon did not want him to be summoned by Lord Rickon to be questioned regarding his ancestry. When the dinner finally ended, Jon was shown to his quarters, and he felt a pang in his heart when he realized the room he'd been given used to be -or would be- Robb's old room. As he lay in his bed, he tried as hard as he could to keep the ghosts that haunted him away from his mind.
(-)(-)(-)
Jon's first day as Winterfell's ward went almost like he'd anticipated, almost. Just like the old days, he woke up at dawn, broke his fast with his Stark family, and went to the training yard with Ser Steffon, as well as his uncles; Benjen, who was sixteen years old, Brandon, who was fifteen, and Elric, who was thirteen. However, when they all arrived in front of the Master at arms -whose name was Garrett-, Jon's eyes widened slightly when he noticed that the boy with purple eyes was there, training against a straw dummy. Said boy stoped when he saw them arrive and grinned at the Targaryen who furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
"You boys are almost late." Garrett chastised with an angry scowl. "Why is the bastard the first one to come to training?"
"Cause Snow got nothing to eat." Brandon joked while Jon was eyeing said bastard with astonishment and his brothers laughed.
"And that's why me arse ain't fat like yours." Snow replied with a mocking grin, earning himself one hateful glare.
"I'm gonna break you in two, bastard." Brandon spat.
"That's what you've been saying for the past year, Stark, yet I stand unarmed."
"Enough!" Garrett roared. "I will not have you two squabble like fisherwomen! Settle this with a sword in your hands or leave the training yard at once!"
Snow nodded, but did not stop grinning. Brandon looked more furious by the second, and hurried to pick up a tourney blade.
As the bastard and the Stark went to face each other, Jon -who couldn't keep his eyes off the boy with purple eyes- leaned his head to the side to ask his uncle Benjen:
"Who is this?"
"That's Aevyr Snow." Benjen spat the name. "Uncle Rickon's dornish bastard son."
To say that Jon was astonished would have been an understatement. He had expected to find many things in Winterfell, but a Stark bastard was not one of them. Especially one with purple eyes like him.
"Dornish?" He asked while Aevyr's grin was slowly turning into a malicious smile as he swung his sword lazily.
"Aye; more than a decade ago, a dornish whore traveled North claiming she was just a traveler. She seduced and fucked uncle Rickon until that piece of shit came out of her legs. She claimed she was a Dawn of Starfell, whatever the fuck that meant."
"A Dayne of Starfall." Jon corrected as Garrett gave the signal to start. "That explains his eyes…" he muttered.
Brandon was older, taller and obviously stronger than this Aevyr Snow was, but Jaehaeron immediately saw that it would not matter. The bastard's posture was better, the movements of his feet hinted at the possibility that he had excellent footwork, while his grip seemed as supple as it was firm. Brandon, on the other hand, seemed to rely solely on his strength, and his posture was more that of an ironborn ready to charge into a melee than that of a seasoned swordsman. When the duel began, Aevyr moved with a speed that Jon considered phenomenal for a boy his age; he hit his cousin on the wrist, then quickly withdrew to avoid the sword blow which would probably have broken his ribs if he had taken it. Still lively, he hit Brandon in the knee, making him stagger as he launched another attack that had little more success than the first. Then, when the Stark was down on one knee, he hit him in the head, although with less force than before. Garrett intervened to stop the massacre.
"Snow wins." He announced with a brief nod of approval in the bastard's direction.
Brandon cursed, spat and got up, glaring at his cousin, but the latter just laughed discreetly without ever stopping displaying his mischievous smile. The duel between Aevyr and Elric ended like the previous one. The difference was that Aevyr showed cruelty this time by dancing around his youngest cousin while hitting him on every joint that the latter left exposed. Elric was knocked to the ground with a shieldblow to the face. Once again, Garrett declared Aevyr the winner.
Jon was a little surprised by the brutality of the confrontation; At King's landing, Ser Harrold Westerling had always stopped the squires before the first blood was shed. Things in the North seemed different from Ser Rodrick Cassel's time, he would never have let children hit such fragile body parts. Jaehaeron Targaryen would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to go up against his uncle's bastard. That's why he stepped forward once Elric was up, and grabbed a shield. Aevyr raised an interested eyebrow when his prince came to face him. It seemed that just like Jon, he was curious to see what this new opponent could do. Garrett made no protest when he saw Jaehaeron walk forward, he simply accepted his request with a nod, and made sure the two boys were in place before signaling the start of the confrontation.
Surprisingly, neither of them took the first step. Because both had chosen the path of prudence, in order to first know what the other could do. Realizing the situation, Aevyr chose to act first; sliding his front foot forward, the bastard made an exploratory thrust at Jon, who immediately countered by backhanding his blow with his shield and attacked with a slash aimed at Aevyr chest who simply moved his body to the side to evade it. The two boys exchanged an amused glance before going back at it while a crowd was starting to form around them.
Jon had years of experience from his previous life, and had trained harder than ever since Jaehaeron Targaryen's fifth nameday, yet, if there was to be anyone he would describe as a natural swordsman, then that man would be Aevyr Snow from today on. The eleven-year-old-boy's defense was perfect; he deflected and countered everything the prince was throwing at him. His footwork was beyond excellent in Jon's textbook, as the bastard deftly moved around his royal nephew while they fought.
However, Jaehaeron Targaryen quickly proved to be a worthy opponent for this ridiculously over talented purple-eyed boy.
As the prince deflected one of the bastard's blow, he planted his foot in Snow's guts, knocking the air our of his lungs and forcing him to raise his shield at the last second to block what could have definitely been the finishing move that had been aimed for his head. Aevyr saw red as he regained his balance, and headbutted the Valyrian boy right on the forehead, forcing him to take a step back as a bit of blood ran down the side of his face.
Many gasped in the crowd, for a Targaryen Prince had just been injured in broad daylight by a bastard. Jon could very well ask for said bastard's head for such an outrage. But the only thing the prince did was to deflect the boy's sword with his own and strike his opponent's jaw with his shield. Aevyr spat on the ground as his wolfsblood boiled in his purple eyes, just like it did in Jon's and the two boys continued their spar.
The two boys struck each other with all the strength and anger they had, their blades clanging and their shields cracking with each impact. Aevyr was, however, much more vicious than Jaehaeron. The latter had only faced timid or arrogant squires, who had learned to fight with honor by following the rules of the melee. Aevyr Snow's only rule was survival's, and that's why he kicked Jon in the thigh. The blow radiated pain through the prince's leg, and he collapsed backwards while the bastard moved forward to deliver the final blow. This is where he made the mistake of believing that the fight was over, and Jon took advantage of the opening left for him by striking Snow in the knee with his sword, which caused the latter to stumble. The two boys were about to continue their confrontation on the ground despite their awkward positions, but their wrists were immediately grabbed by Ser Steffon Darklyn, who stood them up while glaring at Garrett.
"Is this how you train your recruits?" the knight criticized with contempt. "What were you waiting for? For them to each break a limb?"
Garrett spat on the ground.
"That's how we train in the North, Ser." He responded by saying the word "ser" mockingly. "Here, we don't play war, we learn to survive, and pain is the only teacher these boys need."
"What nonsense are these words?!" The Crowland Knight growled. "What would they learn by spending the next few moons in their beds, waiting for their bones to heal?"
"To be more careful next time, Ser." Garrett replied coldly.
As Ser Steffon was about to get bogged down in endless debate, Jon thought it appropriate to intervene.
"Enough Ser Steffon, this is Garrett's training yard and we must follow his rules."
"As the little prince says," the master at arms sneered. "Let the boys finish what they started."
Ser Steffon was furious, but it was impossible for him to counter a direct order from his prince. He therefore released the two young boys who resumed their positions, but Jon noticed that a murderous glint shone in the bastard's violet eyes.
Garrett gave the signal to start again, and as the prince attempted to attack first this time, Aevyr threw a handful of dirt in his face.
"Foul play!" Ser Steffon announced, but the Northerners just laughed at him.
Blinded, Jon leapt back with his shield raised to ward off any attack. But nothing came, in fact, Aevyr had waited and attacked once the Targaryen started rubbing his eyes. He kicked him in the stomach and hit him in the face with his sword's hilt. Jon stepped back again, but didn't fall. Aevyr advanced but his prince spat in his face, giving himself just enough time to recover his vision and retaliate with a sword strike to the shoulder. The two young boys began to attack and parry again, and again, and again. It was ultimately Jon who took the advantage by hitting Aevyr in the eyebrow, releasing a flood of blood which blinded the bastard's left eye.
Jon lowered his weapons, believing the duel to be over. That ended up being a serious mistake on his part, because Aevyr threw himself at him, and hit him with his shield, which released a stream of blood from the prince's nose. Jon staggered backwards, and received a thrust to the elbow which caused him to drop his shield. Jaehaeron Targaryen suddenly opened his eyes, and pushed his bastard cousin away with a headbutt to the face. Snow shook his own head, dropped his shield, and frowned in rage. The two young boys exchanged increasingly violent blows while crowd was encouraging them. It was only when two powerful hands grabbed each of the boys' right wrist that the fight ended. Lord Rickon disarmed the two boys, gave them a swat each, and walked straight towards Garrett, who was unable to find the right words when his liege grabbed him by the throat to bring him to his level.
"I thought I had made myself clear." He snarled furiously. "But apparently I haven't managed to make myself understood; so I'm going to repeat myself: anyone who tries to hurt my nephew in any way will suffer my wrath."
At his words, he struck his master at arms with all his might. Breaking his nose and two teeth. Then he released him, and came and presented himself before Ser Steffon.
"I think it would be best if you took care of Jaehaeron yourself, Ser. I have some problems to resolve within my household."
Ser Steffon just nodded, relieved to see that someone in this castle had his head in the right place. Lord Rickon then turned to the two young boys who were wiping blood from their wounds.
"While you're at it, I'd be grateful if you would take care of my bastard, it would help avoid a lot of trouble between him and his cousins."
Aevyr snorted rudely, earning a glare from his father that forced him to look down.
The Kingsguard looked at this boy who had just fought a violent spar with his prince, but he ended up acceding to this request after Jaehaeron nodded himself.
Considering the situation resolved, Lord Rickon dispersed the crowd by the sheer force of his voice alone and sent the two young boys to the maester for treatment.
As they went up the stairs, Jon tried as best he could to stretch in order to alleviate his pain, but he had to admit that the bastard had not spared him. His entire skeleton ached. And as they entered the maester's laboratory, Jon couldn't help but look at the young boy with awe and dismay. Aevyr Snow was his age, he had never been Lord Commander of the Night's Watch or trained for nine years by Ser Rodrick Cassel in another life, yet he was as good, if not better, than Jon himself was. It didn't make sense, this boy was the very definition of the word 'prodigy'.
Maester Celtigar did not seem surprised to see the bastard arrive, but when he saw Jaehaeron, he frowned sternly at Aevyr. The maester started with the prince, which bothered the latter deeply, since the jealous look of the bastard reminded him of those he had thrown at Robb on numerous occasions, each time they had both injured themselves while training. Maester Luwin had always started with the heir of Winterfell. Jon felt bad, really bad. He now understood what Robb must have felt every time he gave him such looks.
"It's been a long time since I last saw you." Maester Alim quipped as he began to sew up Aevyr's eyebrow. "It is still a shame that it is under such circumstances, I'm sure you would have benefited from my lessons, instead of escaping into the god's wood to wave a sword."
Aevyr sneered but did not respond, it would have been ill-advised to provoke the maester when he regularly stuck a needle so close to his eye.
"I'm a bastard, maester." He finally said. "It is by the sword that I will survive, not by the feather."
"That is probably the stupidest thing I've ever heard." The Celtigar scoffed. "If you don't know how to read or write, then you will never be anything other than the subordinate of someone less strong than you. You have a sharp mind, yet you are too blind to realize the error of your ways. Like you are now, you will waste your life."
"The maester is right." Jon blurted out, earning a glare from Aevyr.
"If you cannot read and write, you will never have the ability to be a commander, because you will never be able to command troops without having the ability to give orders and instructions from a distance."
Alim Celtigar nodded to emphasize the wisdom of these words, but Aevyr balked.
"I'll never be a commander. I'm a fucking bastard...AOW!"
"Watch your tongue." The maester scolded finishing his stitches. Aevyr growled, and turned to the prince while the maester tended to his bruises.
"My cousins are Starks, if I ever have a little brother, he's the one I'll obey. And as a Snow, I can't command Manderlys or Umbers, or even Mormonts. So I will never be a commander."
Jon shook his head, and to think that he had once had the same train of thought...
"The best commanders delegate to trusted soldiers, and not to the sons of the best families. Otherwise the war is lost in advance."
Aevyr rolled his eyes.
"And which Lord would choose me rather than my three cousins to delegate anything?"
"I would choose you."
A septuary-like silence settled in the room. Aevyr looked at Jaehaeron as if he had grown a second head.
"You lie." The bastard accused him through gritted teeth. "Why would you choose me instead of my cousins?"
"Because you are my blood." Jon replied, stunning the bastard. "You're the best opponent I've ever faced, and you do not have a stick up your ass like my uncles... AOW!"
"The fact that you are a prince, does not mean you have the right to utter such vulgarities in my laboratory." The maester informed him.
Jon scratched his head and lowered it in apology. Aevyr's angry gaze had not lessened in intensity.
"It's a trick." He suddenly declared. "You just want to brag to my father that you convinced me to learn how to read."
"No." Jaehaeron replied, his tone stern. "I'm telling you this because I need someone I trust by my side. I'll teach you to read myself."
This time, Aevyr widened his eyes in incomprehension. He opened his mouth to respond, but the prince pulled the rug out from under him.
"The Targaryens and Velaryons are the two most powerful families in Westeros, so it is necessary that you learn High Valyrian if you wish to participate in a strategy meeting of the highest place. Additionally, I need to be able to converse with someone I trust despite all the spies and enemies that might surround me. Therefore, you will have to learn to speak one of the dialects of the Old Tongue."
Aevyr didn't know what to say anymore, he had lost his tongue, he looked at Jaehaeron as if the latter had just turned into a fish.
The bastard threw his head back and burst out into a loud, nervous laugh.
"Who are these enemies who worry you to the point of pushing you to recruit the first bastard you come across in your life, my prince?"
"I do not know yet."
Aevyr gave a predatory smile.
"Now that is a nasty lie." He said showing off all his white teeth. "You said you trusted me."
"No, I said I would choose you before your cousins." Jon replied, his voice firm. "But trust is earned, yours as well as mine."
"That's fair." Aevyr admitted before smiling again. "You're one insane prince, Targaryen."
Jon snorted, he could not exactly refute this claim, his existence as a whole, was crazy.
"Well..." He said as his violet eyes met his cousin's. "I am the blood of the Dragon."
The two boys smiled at each other, not realizing that Maester Celtigar would write down their entire conversation in his diary, immortalizing it for the history books.
To read early
Chapter 10 : 'Bonding with a Snow'
Chapter 11 : 'The Ghosts of the Past'
Chapter 12 : 'Siblings'
Chapter 13 : 'The Dream'
Chapter 14: 'The Prince of Dragonstone'
Chapter 15: 'Stormborn'
Chapter 16: 'Siblings & Bastards'
Chapter 17: 'The Punishment'
Chapter 18: 'Blood and Tears.'
Chapter 19: 'Despair'
Chapter 20: 'A bundle of Joy'
support me on
w w w . p a t r(e)on (slash) MonsieurLAH
Enjoy reading !