Benjen was one of the first to retire that night. Maester Luwin had seen to his wound and said the cut was healing nicely, no more sign of infection.
"Another few days of watching your movements and the skin will be sealed tight enough for normal activities, as long as these do not entail fighting or training, my Lord." The Maester had warned him. "Leave that to the young men for now."
"How is Robb's arm, Maester? Will he be able to resume his sword trainings soon?"
"I redressed the bandages on his arm and I needed to re-break and set both joints of the index finger on his left hand. It will be several sennights before he will be allowed to move that finger." The Maester had sighed.
"The poor lad will carry the scars for the rest of his life. He was lucky though. He told me the Maester at the Dreadfort had been allowed to care for his wounds. I have seen victims of the vile Bolton's before. Their wounds had been allowed to fester and they lost either one or more limbs or their lives." Maester Luwin had fallen silent and had seemed lost in contemplation of past terrors he had witnessed.
"Fighting though Maester," Benjen had reminded the man, "will his movement stay impaired or will his arm heal properly?"
"I am sorry." Maester Luwin had snapped out of his musings. "Our young Lord will regain full function of his left arm. He fights right handed in any case. The missing part of his little finger will not hinder him much, neither with fighting nor while conducting other activities. He has been lucky indeed. I will just need to refresh his bandages and urge him to accept some milk of the poppy to rest better at night. Lord Robb looked worn out."
"Perhaps it is not the pain in his arm that causes him to lie awake, Maester. It is possible he might need help to come to terms with his anxiety and terrors that plague him mostly at night." Benjen hadn't mentioned how little noises or unexpected movements had scared Robb on the road. "Did you learn something about this that could be useful during your time at the Citadel?"
"We studied up on theories and methods to help relax one's mind and body. I'll look into it and see what I can do to help the young Lord." The Maester had prepared to leave the room but Benjen had still wanted to put other things in motion.
"Thank you Maester. I have been thinking he might benefit from having a few helping hands now that he recovers. Perhaps Rodrik Cassel could attend when both of you deal with the incoming scrolls and demands of the Lords of the North for now? We might also ask Lord Manderley's second son to come for a visit. He could lend a hand if issues pop up that he is familiar with. I heard he is good with number and trade negotiations."
"But my Lord, he has you and me to help him? Surely that will do?" The Maester had never heard of the Lord of Winterfell asking outside council. Eddard Stark always took a strong stance and mostly ignored other opinions being very sure of his own ability to govern the North.
"Might I remind you that you had been ill for several sennights just before I arrived, Maester? And I can't promise to be here all the time. I have other duties to attend to as well. We must help our young Lord, even more so now that he is recovering. The North is the largest Kingdom of Westeros and has the harshest conditions. He carries a lot of responsibilities and is not well." Benjen had used his most persuasive voice.
"Of course, my Lord. I will write to Lord Manderly straightaway." Maester Luwin had bowed and left the room. For the time being Benjen Stark was his superior after all.
Benjen had next checked in on Robb and had been glad to find him fast asleep an empty cup next to his bed. Robb had heeded the Maester's words and had drunk his milk of the poppy. His left arm was lying above the covers and Benjen saw the bandages on his left hand had two pieces of wood sticking out of them. Benjen had closed the door softly and had decided to retire himself.
***
Sitting on his own bed now he wondered what Jon's next move was going to be. It had been hard to speak in private these last few days on the road. Perhaps tomorrow they might find a moment to discuss things without being disturbed. A soft knock on his door made him look up.
"Come in." He called out, no clue as to who would still disturb him in his own quarters.
"Uncle?" It was Jon's hesitant voice and his dark curly hair that peeked through the small opening that made Benjen smile.
"Jon, come in. I think you are the only one I would still allow to enter my room in this state of undress."
Jon walked inside and looked his uncle over. He was wearing a rather long nightshirt that covered him up entirely. "You are decent enough, Uncle. I've seen men with much less …," he stopped. "Never mind. Do not worry on my account is all I am trying to say. Just get into bed and cover yourself if you are not warm enough. I only came to see if you might be inclined to talk to me for a bit?"
"I'll always make time for you if you need me, Jon. Did you receive any messages that trouble you?"
Maester Luwin had indeed informed Jon that several messages marked for his eyes only had arrived and he had brought them to his room as soon as the young Prince had left the Great Hall.
"Nothing we cannot discuss tomorrow. Perhaps you are willing to go over them with me tomorrow afternoon? I could use your council."
"My, my, I am in high demand these days." He stopped teasing when he noticed Jon stayed serious. "Of course I will make time for my favourite nephew tomorrow."
"And tonight." He added seeing Jon's slightly disappointed look.
"Do you mind if I pull this chair closer to your bed? That way you can make yourself comfortable on your bed and we can still talk." Jon looked eager now.
Benjen didn't answer but carefully manoeuvred himself on the big bed until he was seated comfortably with his back against the headboard and the furs pulled up over his legs until they reached his waist.
"Now what is on your mind that you couldn't tell me on the way home?" He asked wondering why Jon stayed silent after displaying his obvious need to talk mere moments ago.
"I wanted to talk to you about the Princess." Jon revealed a bit hesitant.
"Finally ready to admit that you like her?" Uncle Benjen teased.
"Uncle, please. No teasing. Not from you, please."
"All right, no teasing. But seriously, you do like her don't you?" His uncle was glad this was the topic for tonight and nothing more complicated.
"I do. That is the problem, Uncle. I want to marry her?" It felt good to say it out loud.
Benjen saw his nephew looking at him with apprehension. For once, Jon acted closer to his age instead of incorporating this leader amongst adults much older than him most of the time. "Is that a question?"
At Jon's exasperated look he quickly added.
"I am sorry. I didn't mean to tease. I just meant that you know very well whether you want to marry her or not. You shouldn't phrase it as a question. I do not see the problem. I recall you telling me that the letters you exchanged were very cordial. I couldn't help but get the impression that she liked you back. Ser Gerold also might have given me a hint in his last message."
"She loves me, Uncle." Jon pulled his chair closer to the bed. "And I love her." He whispered.
"And? Does that mean that you are now willing to do what your great-great-uncle asked of you?" Benjen remembered how fervently a twelve namedays old boy had protested when his Targaryen uncle had brought up the subject not once but several times and again days before his death.
"I want to, very much. I'm afraid that I cannot think clearly and am acting selfish. I wonder if I am making a terrible mistake." Jon confessed.
Benjen grabbed his hand, pulled it a bit closer and squeezed it gently.
"Jon, you still have to make your first terrible mistake. You are doing great. You know when to decide things for yourself and you are not afraid to take a step back and to ask for advice. That is a thing you should teach Robb if you find the right opportunity by the way. Witnessing the way his father ruled Winterfell and the North these last few years has made him think it is a sign of weakness to ask for advice. Sorry, I needed to get that of my chest. Back to you though, walk me through your dilemma and I'll try to help."
He kept his nephew's hand in his for support and felt Jon give him a light answering squeeze in acknowledgment.
"I am glad I can talk to you about this now, Uncle. I have missed our talks." Jon adjusted his chair the last few inches he could still move closer to the bed.
"Has Davos not been able to … "
Jon shook his head.
"That's right, he has not arrived at Dragonstone yet. He also hasn't met the Princess yet. What is she like, Jon? Describe her to me." Benjen urged his nephew to give him more details.
"She is the very definition of a Targaryen. In looks." Jon added hastily. "She has silverwhite hair just like her father and the renowned purple eyes. She is small in stature and very slender although her figure is very feminine." He blushed and looked at his uncle sheepishly.
"Go on." Benjen encouraged him.
"She is nice, smart, funny but also headstrong and ambitious. She is not afraid to say what is on her mind."
"Oh my, that tone you just used. Don't tell me you butted heads already?" Benjen was watching Jon's tiniest reactions looking for clues.
"We did, but we made up right after." Jon's face was scarlet now. "She came right out and asked me why I did not consider marrying her."
"Now that is a lady I would like to meet." Benjen Stark remarked amused to see his nephew's troubles were just struggles of a young man in love for the first time.
"I recall you not having any problems to fend of Nymeria Sand at the Wall. Perhaps the problem is you do not want to fend this one off eh?"
Jon released his hand and put it back in his own lap. "Uncle, please no teasing, this is serious. I told you, the fact that we both love each other makes it difficult for me to be sure that I am making the right decisions. I have already done some risky things. I need your unbiased opinion on this matter."
"All right." Benjen, who had been slowly sagging down the length of the bed, squirmed a bit until he sat up straight again. Sitting more comfortably once more, he studied Jon closely.
"Tell me all the reason why you think marrying her is a mistake. Hold nothing back. I promise I will listen and give my uncensored opinion."
"I have three." Jon looked at his hands that were fiddling nervously and stilled them.
"Three." His uncle repeated encouragingly. When Jon didn't continue, he added. "Let's hear them."
"I can't marry for selfish reasons. What if I need to make a political marriage and refusing to do that will lead a Kingdom to declare war on me, us? I cannot be happy if I am the reason a rebellion starts."
"You are not your parents, Jon. I have noticed more than once that you burden yourself with the unfortunate unforeseen consequences of their choices. You are not responsible for their actions. Besides, there are Seven Kingdoms and you can only marry one person."
"But what if Robb or Sansa are made to marry someone to advance my cause and I am not willing to do the same?"
"So far nobody has been forced to do anything against their will yet. Your campaign is coming along nicely without betrothals. Loras came to me and asked me a lot of questions. I am sure he will swear his sword to you in the near future. That is another reason for Lady Olenna to consider declaring for our side. I do not think the Stormlands will be swayed even if you married the Princess Shireen. King Robert and Prince Stannis are the ones that will oppose your claim the strongest. The Stormlands and part of the Crownlands might rebel no matter whom you decide to marry, Jon." Benjen reasoned.
Jon didn't reply immediately. He avoided his uncle's gaze by studying the calluses on his hands.
"Jon, look at me. Tell me truthfully. Do you really expect that you will take the throne with no opposition whatsoever? No matter the yearlong preparations and the number of allies, there will always be people who will oppose your claim. Even if you marry a Lord Paramount's daughter, not all bannermen might agree."
Jon's eyes briefly met his uncle's.
"Jon, if you want to become King of all of Westeros, you must be prepared to enforce your claim with violence. I know you dream of a better world for everyone, but often the people have a mind of their own. Not all of them will like you, Jon. Not everybody will think that you and you dragons are the Gods gift to the realm."
Jon frowned and lifted his head again. Benjen seeing he had his full attention knew it was time to give him some hard truths.
"Jon, I saw how you struggled with Jeor Mormont's dislike of you. You will need to come to terms with the fact that even when all goes according to plan, best case scenario: sixty per cent of the people will love you, perhaps twenty will not give a damn or fear you without acting on it and the rest, the rest will hate your guts and might rebel against you. You have lived mainly amongst Targaryen loyalists. They are prejudiced in your favour and not a good standard to gauge the reactions of the rest of the realm by. You won't win everyone over with a smile, a motivational speech, or even a daring rescue mission."
Jon swallowed. "I know that, Uncle. Rationally I know all that. I struggle with it though. But that doesn't negate the fact that marrying someone else might gain me extra support and less people will need to die."
"Jon, nobody knows the future. Just suppose I am the Lord of the Stormlands and I declare war on you. You would need to take to the field with only a small part of your allies. Your two dragons would only have to give a small demonstration of their firepower. And I would waver and ask to negotiate. Think Jon. You are Aegon the Conqueror the second edition. I would bend the knee to spare my people."
Jon frowned. "Perhaps."
"This political betrothal issue might resolve itself. You will have to make your move soon now that almost the entire North knows your identity. No matter how many times you ask for discretion, people talk amongst themselves and others overhear. Lord Varys is not a miracle worker. You might find yourself running for the throne before you have a chance to seal a betrothal. Nothing can prevent you then from asking your Princess to marry you. If she loves you back, just ask her to wait a few moons."
Jon nodded slowly, deep in thought. Uncle Benjen waited a few moments but then cleared his throat to get his nephew's attention once more. He had been slipping down again but instead of righting himself back into a sitting position, he slowly turned to his side until he lay on the bed facing Jon.
"Now let us move on to the other two reasons. I will want to go to sleep at some point tonight. I think there is one reason that I can guess, your kinship with the Princess."
"You wouldn't mind me marrying my Aunt?" Jon asked amazed at the matter of fact tone with which his uncle had voiced this important concern.
"It is not as if she is your sister, or Gods forbid your twin sister. Aunt, uncle, nephew, niece, or cousins marrying happens in every House, Jon. I could cite you at least two examples of members of House Stark having done such a thing."
"You do not think that it is a serious issue, Uncle? More so for my house? Considering the history of House Targaryen, I could have children who inherit the madness. Do not forget the dragons. In the wrong hands, they could destroy the realm." Jon's expression betrayed how much the issue weighed on him.
"Who is to say your offspring by a non-Valyrian woman will be able to handle the dragons with their diluted dragonblood? And even if they can, there is no guarantee that they will use the dragons with as much restraint as you do. Their hands could be 'wrong hands' as well." Benjen replied in a soothing voice.
"Perhaps unconsciously you are still not willing to give into the demands of your uncle Aemon. You are talking of wanting to marry to further your cause, for the good of the realm. If Maester Aemon was right, marrying her might be for the good of the realm. You still cling stubbornly to ideas and decisions you formed as a young child and that somehow got stuck in your mind. Or perhaps you just do not want anyone to think you are marrying her because you were ordered to do so by your great-great-uncle. Ever think you protest this too much?"
"You are not helping me at all here, Uncle. Now I don't even know what drives me anymore. I thought I was being noble and selfless, and now you question that as well." Jon shook his head. His uncle saw the confusion in his eyes when Jon lifted his head once more.
"I wished I could see the future. I even tried but I," Jon stopped and bowed his head in defeat.
"I am sorry, Uncle. I can't tell you more."
"Let me guess, one of your Uncle Aemon's precious Targaryen secrets. Think carefully, Jon. I know you are smart. Is there not something you can tell about what you just hinted at without betraying your house's secrets?" Benjen silently cursed the fact that Jon was not allowed to confide everything in him.
Jon peeked through his eyelashes, giving Benjen hope that the youth was considering his words.
"If you promise not to ask for details I cannot reveal, I will try Uncle." Jon now looked at him having come to some decision.
"You know you can trust me, Jon. What more can I say to put your mind at ease?" Benjen further encouraged Jon to confide in him with an earnest look.
"It would help me so much if I could talk to you about this, Uncle." Jon's eyes glistened suspiciously and he put his right hand tentatively on the bed.
Benjen didn't hesitate to take it in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"Then talk to me. I vow I will not press you for information that you are not allowed or unwilling to give." He watched patiently while Jon mulled his words over in his mind and was hopeful when his nephew started to speak.
"I did something stupid the other day right before I left Dragonstone." Jon admitted eventually. "I put my life in danger because I wanted to see the future, because I wanted to know the future of my house. More specifically I wanted assurances that my offspring would be able to control the dragons and if so, who I needed to marry to sire those children with." Jon's voice was barely more than a whisper.
He bowed his head in shame. "I was sick when your cry for help arrived, Uncle. I had to delay my journey for more than half a day. That was all on me. I put my love for Dany before the well-being of everyone else. I know I must stay alive to help the realm, to fulfill the prophecy. I bear so much responsibility. I cannot make that mistake again."
Two tears escaped and ran over his cheeks but Jon ignored them. "I feel so guilty, Uncle." He paused and took a deep breath to calm down a bit. "And it was all for nothing. All the effort I had to make, and the risk I needed to take and I am no further than I was before."
"It didn't work then whatever you uh, did?" Benjen was doing his utmost to stay patient. Jon was not giving him much to go on, not enough to figure out what he wanted to know.
"It did work. Only not the way I thought it would. It gave me some ideas on how to save my house and the realm. I know more about the enemy to the north. The visions showed me what is important and apparently to the Gods or whatever magic that granted them to me, it is not whom I marry. But that is important to me, Uncle. Although,"
He sat up straighter and his voice became more resolute when he declared. "I know I have a duty and I must not be selfish. I will not do as my parents did. I will fulfill my purpose first."
"Jon, listen to me. Jon," he repeated.
Jon looked up reluctantly revealing he was still close to tears.
"It is not selfish to want happiness. It is human. Must I repeat myself? You are not your parents. You are not to blame for everything that happened seventeen years ago." He squeezed Jon's hand once more.
"Jon, think about it again. As far as I can see, nothing you told me forbids you to marry your Princess. Although I must admit that it might be prudent to wait until you ascend your throne and assess the political landscape first, before going through with it." He stroked his nephew's hand to comfort him.
"You might be overthinking this, Jon. Do not forget that you have our noble, strong Stark blood. I trust the Gods to know what they are doing. You are healthy and Maester Aemon told me that your Stark blood allowed only the best abilities of your Targaryen blood to manifest themselves. He went even as far as to claim that our excellent Stark blood enhanced the abilities and you are a more powerful than any Targaryen ancestor ever was. Why could you not pass along that gift to your children?"
"But Daenerys' father and her brother even," Jon hesitated to finish his sentence and put his fears into words.
"I think her brother would not have succumbed to his illness had the circumstances been better. The Mad King well, you have me there. But you are good and honourable, Jon. Trust in yourself, in your blood, your strength. If you have children, no matter whom you marry, raise them well and teach them justice, kindness, honour. Teach them by example. Let the Gods worry about the rest. I can truthfully say that I am convinced that you have as much chance to have a healthy offspring with her as with anyone else."
"You really think that?" Jon's wet, grey Stark eyes met his uncle's dark blue ones, hope shining through them.
"I do. Every man takes a risk when he sires a child, Jon. Every parent worries about his child's health and happiness. It is one of the facts of life. I understand the Gods didn't bother to show you what you wanted. No marriage comes with a guarantee of a healthy offspring. It is too small a concern for the Gods."
He revised his earlier assessment of an easy conversation about a young man's first love. At least his nephew had calmed down some. He tried to keep his tone light when he spoke next.
"Your reactions have almost made me too scared to ask what possible third dilemma you have come up with."
Jon shook his head and a small self-deprecating smile ghosted over his face. "Now that I think about it, it is not really a big issue. It is merely another reason to delay our betrothal. I am convinced that I need all my energy and focus on the tasks at hand and can't let myself be distracted by my feelings for her. By postponing a final decision till after the fight with the dead and when I have claimed the throne, this reason is no longer a concern." He waited for his uncle to react.
"Stalling might get you in trouble with Lady Olenna though. If she tries to bully you into marrying a Tyrell, you should claim that you are betrothed to Princess Daenerys and keep all your options open. A fake betrothal can easily be broken." When Jon shook his head his uncle stammered. "Unless, Jon, you didn't, you haven't."
Jon shook his head resolutely. "No Uncle. I haven't done anything that would lessen Dany's chances of finding a suitable husband. Not in that way. I have given her hope though. I have promised her to try and stay single until matters are resolved. But I can't use her like that, involve her in such deceit." Jon's face however had lost that forlorn look to his uncle's relief.
"You can if you have her consent."
Jon nodded now and seemed deep in thought. This gave Benjen the opportunity to mull over what Jon hadn't told him. What exactly had the visions revealed to him about the enemy to the North? The boy seemed convinced more than ever that it was his destiny to defeat the dead. Whatever had the Gods shown him? Moreover, what the hells had he done to himself to get visions. As far as he knew, Lord Reed didn't need to risk his health to receive visions. This last thought made him speak up again
"I reckon you haven't asked Lord Reed for help yet?"
Jon startled out of his own musings. "I haven't. I wanted to ask something else of him though. He told me once the magic in the blood of the Kings of Winter not only gave our ancestors the ability to warg but every now and then a greenseer was born into the Stark family. He suspects Bran to have inherited that ability to a certain degree. But somehow I think, I wonder if I might have inherited a bit of it as well. Maester Aemon hinted at it telling me my Targaryen blood instead of diluting the Stark magic seemed to enhance it when I told him about my connection to my dragons."
"What are you saying, Jon? Did you experience some sort of greendreams?" Benjen was intrigued.
"I might have? I am not sure. I had some dreams that felt like vision before I tried, uh, well you know, that thing that I can't tell you about. But I can't help but wonder that with some tutelage of Lord Reed, just like he taught me those warging exercises, perhaps I could, uh, you know?"
It was not like Jon to be so unsure, not to finish his sentences. Benjen squeezed his hand once more trying to get Jon to settle his nerves.
"I understand, Jon. You can write to him. Perhaps there will come a time that you can visit with him in person. But for now, you might consider writing to him. It is possible that a few hints can help you along."
"You do not consider me selfish?" Jon asked yearning for some reassurance.
"Everyone is selfish to a certain degree, Jon. Hells, you should be a bit more selfish sometimes. It is not healthy to always sacrifice yourself for others. The best way to help others is when you are strong, healthy and sound of mind yourself. So indulging yourself once in a while to make you feel better, benefits the ones that need your help as well. You should look after yourself if you claim you have such a big destiny to fulfill."
Jon's eyes were moist when he gave his uncle a long devoted look. He swallowed.
"Perhaps you should take a piece of your own advice, Uncle. Why haven't you taken a wife yet? You would make the best father ever."
"I already feel like a father, Jon." He blinked a few times to keep his own eyes from filling with tears.
"But to answer your question, if ever I happen to fall in love, I will marry the woman I love and will not mind whether she is highborn or lowborn. That's the upside of being heir to nothing. I just had other things that were more important to me. And, no, before you say it, it was NOT a sacrifice. I did it because my heart was fully invested in it. It still is. Who knows perhaps when you are King, the women will flock to me when they see how important I am to that famous King." He added that last bit in a light tone in an effort to hide the fact that his emotions were getting the better of him.
Jon left his chair and moved to sit on his knees before the bed. He lowered himself and carefully embraced his uncle. Benjen's arms closed around his nephew and held him as tight as his wound allowed. "I love you, Uncle. More than I can ever say. I hope you will be able to live close to me soon. I hate how little we see of each other."
"I do too, Jon. I do too. Do not worry. Things will change soon. I am working on it. As soon as Robb has enough advisers he is willing to trust, I shall sail south and you will not be able to rid yourself of me."
"I'll keep you to that." Jon murmured in his uncle's hair before softly disentangling them. "I am sorry I am such a sissy." He dried his eyes and cheeks."
"Even a man needs to express his feelings once in a while. That doesn't turn you into a girl, Jon. Don't let my older brother know I told you, but he cried in my arms when baby Robb's fever broke when he fell seriously ill twelve moons after he was born. Every man, no matter how strong needs to let go from time to time."
"Even you, Uncle?" Jon teased him.
Benjen was glad Jon smiled for the first time since he had entered the room, even though it was only a watery smile. "Best prepare yourself. If that happens, it will probably be you that will have to deal with the flood."
"Don't worry, I will have learned from the best." Jon's smile grew a bit wider.
"On that note," his uncle hesitated, "perhaps we should think about retiring. There is always tomorrow."
"There is. You are right. I am grateful you have given me so much of your time tonight. I feel much better. I might not look like it," Jon said as he got up from the bed. "But I feel like a heavy weight has been lifted of me. I think I will sleep well tonight."
Standing next to the bed he hesitated but then bowed down and kissed his uncle's cheek.
"Sleep well, Uncle. I'll see to it nobody disturbs you so you can wake up when your body has rested enough. See you tomorrow."
"Sleep well Jon." His uncle smiled and waited until his nephew had closed the door before he adjusted his position so he was all set to fall asleep. The boy was in love. Ser Davos and Ser Barristan had warned him but he never would have guessed it was so much more serious than a first infatuation. Jon was really in love. He would go to the Godswood tomorrow and pray that all would turn out well. If anyone deserved happiness, his dearest nephew certainly did.
***
Jon went back to his room. Not feeling like he would fall asleep anytime soon, he reviewed the messages he had received one more time. He had already sent a reply to Yara Greyjoy. That had been the most urgent one. All their correspondence of late had yielded the wanted result. The Golden Company had sent a few men and some banners, sails and armour to Yara Greyjoy who secretly occupied a small Island north east of Pyke now. They could outfit several ships with the sigil of the Golden Company and dress Ironborn up as its soldiers. They would be ready to attack Pyke soon when all her men had arrived. The only thing that was left was for him to let her know when he could be there with his dragons and to set the exact date for the attack.
Jon had set a date for two sennights from now. He would enjoy a week of rest at Winterfell. Then fly to Eastwatch to evaluate the situation there and check in on Gendry and Sandor Clegane. He was frustrated by the stalemate beyond the Wall and would need to make a decision soon. As things stood now, perhaps he should pursue the Iron Throne first? That would certainly make Varys' life easier.
He decided to sleep on it first. He would go to the training yard first thing after breaking his fast and bring his young cousins along as promised. Afterwards he would tackle the other messages together with Uncle Benjen and perhaps let Arya meet his dragons.
***
Jon awoke very early the next morning. Even though he had retired rather late having spent some time reviewing the messages that had arrived for him and answering the urgent one before going to sleep, he felt well-rested for the first time since his bout of illness. Seeing the sun was not fully up yet he hoped it was still early enough to pay Arya back for that morning at Sea Dragon Point.
Since Ghost was nowhere to be found and was probably out hunting or playing with his siblings, he asked a guard for directions to his youngest cousin's room. He left the bewildered man behind when he hurried to the corridor where the daughters of the Lord of Winterfell had their quarters. Making sure he had the right door he opened it slowly, making as little noise as possible and sneaked up to her bed. Satisfied that it was her dark hair he spotted on the pillow and not his elder cousin's red locks, he carefully manoeuvred both hands under the covers and tickled her.
When she shrieked and sat up ready to jump out of bed he smiled and sang "Rise and shine, rise and shine, dearest cousin."
Arya's expression immediately changed. Instead of being angry and ready to retaliate, her face lit up with excitement and she hugged him within an inch of his life.
"Jon! Is it time for our sparring session already? Oh no, did I miss it?"
"Not yet, not yet," he reassured her. "I just thought you might want to keep me company for breakfast. And I wanted to ask you to spare me some time this afternoon. There is someone, or rather two someones I would like to introduce you to. Can you make time for your poor adopted brother?"
"Always." She promised against his ear, still hugging him.
"I'll wait outside for you to get dressed and you can accompany me to the Great Hall then?" Jon gently freed himself from her embrace.
"I'll be ready in no time!" Arya jumped out of bed and went behind a screen where Jon guessed her clothes would be lying from the night before.
"Should we ask Sansa to come with us and join us for breakfast?" Jon asked as an afterthought.
"Nooooh," Arya complained. "Besides, it takes her ages to make herself presentable. We would be starved if we waited for her. "I am much quicker. I'll be out before you know it."
"I'll wait for you as long as it takes." He promised and went outside feeling happy to be amongst family once again.
They encountered Rickon on their way to the Great Hall. They chose their seats so Jon could sit between the two of them. Since it was still early, not many people were present yet. The room filled slowly while they broke their fast. Robb appeared with the Maester at his side. Jon stood to greet him. Robb smiled back but gestured he would sit at a separate table to discuss some things with the Maester. Jon signalled back that he understood, sat down again and turned his attention back to Arya who had been talking non-stop during his silent dialogue with Robb.
Jon did not linger long at the table after that and accompanied his young cousins to the training yard. After they had all donned their protective gear he asked them to show him how good they had already become.
Before Jon had uttered another word, Rickon went over to a training dummy in a corner that was about his own size and started to show the strikes he had already been taught.
Arya whispered in his ear. "Can I show you facing you instead of a dummy?"
Jon nodded and asked her to wait her turn so he could give her brother his attention first. Her excited nod was answer enough.
"Very good, Rickon. You must have a great teacher to possess such a powerful swing already. You can rest a bit while Arya shows us what she learned. Then I will teach you both some new moves."
Rickon his face red from exertion but happy with Jon's praise sat down and watched Jon take on Arya.
Jon enjoyed interacting with them. It reminded him of his time at Greywater Watch with Robb. He easily countered Arya's strokes but made sure not to discourage her. He paid attention to her technique so he could give her some useful tips. He did not let her get a stroke in however. That would make her overconfident. Ser Gerold had warned him often enough that to overestimate your skills was the worst mistake you could possibly make in a battle.
"Yield!" He yelled as he held his sword to her neck and made a show of breathing heavily as if he had bested a very difficult opponent.
"I yield." Arya was breathing heavy for real but her eyes shone with fulfilment. "I like fighting you, Jon. Can we do that again?"
"As long as I am here, we will fight at least one bout each day." He promised. "But only if you do not neglect your other lessons and provided your mother is okay with it." He added hastily.
"Now, I have some pointers for both of you. Pay attention." He provided to give them some useful tips first. They both had made the same errors Robb had during his first sparring sessions when he was eleven. He corrected their overswing and told them not to swing with all their force all of the time so they could spare their strength for when they went for a more important strike. When Rickon went back to practice on his dummy, he showed Arya some simple strike combinations.
When he finished he noticed Edric and Loras had arrived and were the middle of their warming up. Jon went over to them and asked if they were willing to face him. He looked around to see if there were other sparring partners in the vicinity. Spotting Lady Brienne hesitating in the corner he called her over.
"Lady Brienne, will you help me out here? I need a third opponent who can make it more difficult for me."
"Are the two of us not enough of a challenge?" Edric asked a bit put out. "I know you are a good swordsman, but we take our trainings very seriously and have improved you know."
"You'll just have to prove me wrong then." Jon smiled. "I propose two of you take me on and if I am able to make one of you yield Lady Brienne takes his place and we begin again. Until another one yields and so on. The session ends when one of you three can get me to yield."
Loras looked at Edric. "Let's show him was he has taken on."
They both took their starting position facing Jon, the intent clear on their faces.
"Lady Brienne. Stand ready to replace my first victim." Jon warned and took his stance as well, a training sword in each hand.
"Make your first move." He encouraged Loras Tyrell.
Loras advanced and tried a head cut, which Jon parried and in one fell swoop cut of the swing Edric launched at his abdomen. The sword in Jon's left hand hit Edric under his arm. "Yield."
Brienne stepped in feinted twice before striking toward his shoulder. Jon parried a strike from Loras moments before he blocked her sword. The moment Loras made a step forward Jon attacked him with a combination of strokes at a speed that had Loras of balance and he fell. Jon turned his attention on Brienne and only used his left hand to hold off Edric who had stepped up to replace Loras. Jon changed tactics now. Instead of meeting their swings he started evading them. He stepped left, backward, ducked and came up with a half turn to the right and attacked them sideways and had both of them yield moments apart.
His three opponents looked at each other and reaching a silent consensus, attacked simultaneously. Jon anticipating their movements, manoeuvred himself between a wagon and a wall so they could not attack from behind and held all three of them off successfully. Several Lords had gathered on the rampart and were watching the spectacle below with growing amazement.
Jon was still holding his position and his opponents were showing the first signs of exhaustion. Jon was also sweating profusely but relied on the speed of his strokes and the precision of his swings now and hardly moved from the spot he had chosen.
It wasn't until Edric climbed on the wagon that he needed to revise his tactics slightly. He threw one sword at Edric and yelled yield when the unexpected move startled his friend and the sword hit its intended target. One sword in his hand was enough for the moment to hold Loras Tyrell and Lady Brienne at bay since they could only attack him from the front. He was slowly getting cornered and tried to use the more complicated stroke combinations. He realised he needed to find a way to end the fight before he was trapped against the wall. The very moments he hit Loras Tyrell straight on his chest plate and ordered him to yield, Lady Brienne got a hit in on his left arm. "Got you," she yelled gleefully.
Jon lowered his sword and bowed. "You did my Lady." He smiled.
"Thanks, that was a good challenge. I'll take you on one by one later if you are still willing." He addressed this to all three of them. Loras and Edric were breathing heavily and were glad Jon was giving them time to recover.
"Lady Brienne, will you assist me with the rest of my training? I recently started with additional exercises to develop my muscles. If you will join me for a run? He looked around for some heavy objects. His eyes fell on Rickon and Arya who of course had stopped their exercises long ago to witness Jon fighting off three opponents.
Jon picked up Rickon and lifted him on his shoulders. "Arya your next, just wait here for me." Jon with Brienne following close behind turned in the direction of the inner gate. He ran part of the path between the old and new Wall of Winterfell, only to double back when he reached the glass gardens. Back in the training yard, he put Rickon down, bent his knees and gestured Arya to climb on his back. She was a lot heavier than her brother but her shouts encouraged him to keep enough speed. This time they left the confines of Winterfell and ran around the Godswood. He stopped at a small fountain and drank some water. He was getting better even though he had not regained his full strength yet.
He showed Arya some muscle building exercises but told her to take it easy while she was still growing. Lady Brienne looked on with amusement smiling at the antics of both cousins. At one point, Jon was laying on his front propped on his hands his arms straight. Arya sat on his back while Jon bent his arms lowering his head to the ground keeping a straight line from his shoulders to his feet. Arya tucked in her legs until Jon lifted himself up again by straightening his arms. Arya was keeping count. When she tried to mimic this exercise without additional weight on her back, she failed miserably.
"You are still young Arya," he comforted her, not wanting to refer to her gender he added, "these muscles only develop in later years. Don't overdo it. Within a few years you will be able to do this. I had to learn as well." He showed her a variant, where she leaned on her knees instead of her feet.
Soon Arya was been able to complete ten motions.
After that, they decided training was over and walked leisurely back to the courtyard. As always Arya was talking non-stop.
"I will get stronger than Robb if I practise all these new exercises in secret. I have never seen him do anything of the kind." Her competitive spirit was once more apparent.
"Robb will not be able to train for some time. Do not pester him about it, Arya. He will feel useless enough as it is. Distract him with other things. Perhaps ask him to go for a run with you once he is feeling a bit better and his arm is no longer bandaged so heavily. Look out for him when I am gone, will you?"
Arya had promised him, a serious expression on her face. Jon knew he had struck the right tone. She would rise to the occasion, proud he had entrusted her with such an important mission.
When they re-entered the courtyard, Jon spotted the crowd that was still gathered there awaiting his return. He asked Brienne to accompany him to a more secluded spot for the rest of his muscle building exercises.
Later Robb would tell him how impressed the Lords of the North had been, not only with his prowess with a sword but also with the time and energy he had put in to teach his little cousins. Those who had witnessed the entire session from the ramparts had spread the word.
***
After a quick wash and properly attired, Jon went in search for Uncle Benjen.
When he knocked on Robb's solar to see if his uncle was in there, Robb motioned him to enter.
"Why are you looking for our Uncle?" Robb asked his cousin. He was seated behind his father's desk and was trying to deal with the newest demands from his bannermen.
"I wanted to discuss some things with him before I sent out some messages to my entourage and my allies." Jon was quick to explain.
"You do not handle that yourself?" Robb asked him looking a bit taken aback.
Jon remembering his uncle's words of the night before, took a seat. "Most of them I could handle by myself if I wanted to. I prefer hearing another opinion or several opinions first if at all possible."
When Robb frowned, Jon elaborated. "It is how I have always made decisions, at least for as long as I can remember. Not only does it make me feel surer that I am making the right decision, it sometimes helps me look at a problem from another angle. Often there is more than one solution to an issue. Listening to others has taught me to look for these other possibilities and not to be satisfied with the first answer I come up with. Some solutions are better than others."
"Doesn't it make you look indecisive?" Robb asked surprised by this new insight in Jon's habits. He had seen his friend in action several times and had witnessed firsthand how his cousin had taken command of powerful Lords much older than himself neither hesitating nor doubting himself.
"I do not think of it that way. You see, I listen to all their advice but it is still me who makes the final decision and they respect that. I still feel in control, Robb."
He hesitated, not knowing whether his cousin would understand but he tried all the same. "I must admit I like building solutions together. You see, someone starts with an idea. It can be me, or it can be someone else. It is only an idea, a start of a plan, something half finished. Sometimes something that is not feasible but it gives someone else another idea. Talking about it, we build on that. Each one adds knowledge from his own field of expertise and sometimes we construct an ideal solution nobody could have come up with on his own. Everybody knows different things, combining all this knowledge sometimes yields amazing results. The solutions that ensue from such deliberations are often the most rewarding ones."
Jon studied his cousin hoping his words would have some impact.
"I can't imagine father would approve of me doing things that way. He always ruled the North keeping his own council. His word is law and nobody questions his decisions." Robb eyed his cousin with skepticism now.
"Are you sure though, Robb? You mostly only saw the end result. You saw your father proclaim his decisions in the Great Hall. Did he never take time perhaps days to reach a difficult decision? Are you certain he didn't confer with others in private? I am not talking about a small dispute between two nobles, I am sure he handled that himself, but what about when he needed to make major decisions? Do you really know how he came up with his solutions?"
"I thought I did." Robb stammered after thinking it over for a while.
"You can always write him and ask his opinion. I assure you, I miss my advisers greatly and am glad I can ask the advice of our uncle. Have you not benefited from his help?"
"I have. But that is just because I am still getting the hang of things. I do not want to appear weak in the eyes of the other Lords. I already have my age against me."
"Then every King would look weak because he governs not only with a Hand but with a small council as well. I disagree with respect, Robb. I am of the opinion that it is a wise man who seeks council and that only a fool thinks he has all the answers, knows all there is to know and does not need any aid in ruling a large kingdom or several for that matter." Jon smiled apologetically hoping he didn't come on too strong.
"If you put it that way," Robb hesitated, clearly not sure if he should be offended. "But the Lords." He stopped what he had been about to say and started over. "Perhaps I will write to father about this."
"Just think on it for a bit, Robb. That is all I ask. I can only give my advice and you decide what to do with it. That is my point after all." A tentative smile lit Jon's features. He gestured at the scrolls on the desk. "Anything I can help you with?"
"Not for the moment." Robb declined in a tone that indicated he wanted to be left alone for now.
Jon not wanting to overstay his welcome rose from his chair. "When we both have settled our separate business, tomorrow perhaps, I would like to sit down, the three of us and talk about Theon's fate and what to decide about House Bolton."
"Are those not matters for the Warden of the North." Robb countered on the defensive now.
"That is one of the things we can discuss then. I will argue that I need Theon alive to barter with Yara Greyjoy. And I might have some insights or call it 'suggestions' about the future of House Bolton. It can't hurt to hear me out." Jon tried to keep his tone noncommittal.
"Okay, if that is scheduled for tomorrow, what are your plans for the rest of today?" Robb asked still a bit tense.
"I was looking for Uncle Benjen, remember? I will talk with him and then decide on the most urgent actions to take. Afterwards I intend to take a stroll with Arya. I want to tell her who I am before she hears it from someone else. We will walk to the woods so I can introduce her to my dragons.
"Why Arya first? Why not Mother, Sansa or Willas Tyrell for that matter? Did you know he has been trying to wheedle information out of almost every noble present?" Robb eyed his cousin with curiosity.
"I wanted to single Arya out because she deserves it, kind of? Apart from you, she is the only one who made the effort to keep in touch and I trust her. She is loyal and old enough. Rickon is still too young. Bran knows from what I have gathered from the last letter I received from Lord Reed. Your mother knows as well." Jon sighed. "To tell you the truth, I fear Arya's resentment if she hears it from someone else which is bound to happen with so many people in the know."
"I understand Jon. But the same goes for Lord Tyrell, I mean Willas Tyrell. Don't you worry he will overhear something or will eventually find someone willing to answer his questions?"
"You are right. I'll better seek him out before that happens. Although I am not sure how to handle that discussion I am afraid. You see, these are the sort of things I want to discuss with my advisers first. In such a situation we list all the pros and cons so I can devise a strategy. Strictly speaking there is no one hundred per cent right or wrong approach here. There is only a slightly better and a slightly worse option. It soothes my conscience that I at least tried my best to make the best decision possible when things do not turn out exactly how I wished them to."
Before Robb could react someone knocked. The unexpected sound startled Robb more than Jon would have expected. His cousin's sudden movement would have spilled the inkpot if Jon's quick reflexes had not steadied the small receptacle. Jon acted as if he didn't notice the panicked look Robb shot at the door.
"Am I disturbing some private moment? Shall I come back later?" Uncle Benjen stood in the doorway also not commenting on what he had just witnessed.
"Not at all. I think we were finished, isn't that so Robb?" Jon kept his voice and face neutral.
Robb nodded and invited his uncle in.
Jon met him on his way to the door. "Hello Uncle, I had been looking for you earlier as a matter of fact. When you have finished here, will you come find me? There is a matter I need your advice on. I'll keep myself busy in the library."
When his uncle raised his eyebrow questioningly, Jon amended. "Well, perhaps more than one matter." He smiled apologetically.
"I'll be there soon Jon. I need a word with Robb first."
Jon nodded. "Then I will leave you two to it." He went to the door and turned around. "I'll see you later today, Robb? You do realise that if you were in better health, I would have you come along when I take that walk I told you about?"
"I know, Jon. Sorry if I was perhaps a bit short with you. Just give me some time. And I'll make sure to see you later. I'm not going anywhere anyway." Robb nodded his head.
Jon responded with a nod at both Starks and left the room.
***
Jon entered the library and left the door open so his uncle would certainly spot him when he walked past. He halted when he saw that Lord Willas Tyrell was seated at a table with several large tomes open in front of him.
"I'm sorry. I did not want to disturb you. You are Lord Tyrell, I presume? I saw you last night in the Great Hall but I do not think we were formally introduced." Jon opened the conversation not knowing whether this was a lucky coincidence or if he should have avoided the encounter altogether.
"Well met, Lord Celtigar. Your reputation precedes you." Willas Tyrell had stood up and dipped his head fractionally.
"My reputation?" Jon wondered how outspoken the grandson of Lady Olenna would be.
"Well your cousin Arya, Lady Brienne, and of course my brother have told me bits and pieces. If I am honest, I am a bit intrigued." Willas answered without hesitation, relishing the opportunity to talk to the elusive Lord.
"What intrigues you the most, my friendship with House Stark or the fact that you have not found anything significant about House Celtigar in any of those books?" Jon was starting to enjoy baiting Willas Tyrell.
"You caught me there. To be honest, I was looking through these books for mention of a marriage between House Stark and House Celtigar. You certainly look a lot like a Stark, if you don't mind my saying." Willas Tyrell openly studied the grey Stark eyes and the dark curls from up close. With the well-groomed beard, the young lord resembled Lord Eddard Stark even more.
"I don't mind. I consider it a compliment to be compared to such a noble house." Jon replied keeping his face neutral.
"I can't help but suspect that my brother's secretive behaviour has some connection to you. He came back from the Riverlands with secrets and I surmised that that is where he met you." The elder Tyrell brother tried once more to get Jon to talk.
"I won't lie. It is connected to me." Jon offered just enough information to keep the heir to Highgarden interested.
"And you are not willing to tell me more about that?" Willas Tyrell decided to stop playing games and put the young Lord on the spot.
"I am willing if you are prepared to bear the consequences." Jon needed all his experience to keep his face blank and not give him a teasing smile.
"I am sorry. Would you care to elaborate? I can't help but get the feeling that I am being threatened somehow?" Willas Tyrell was getting uneasy. Lord Celtigar stood between him and the only exit to the library. The man had a beautiful sword made of Valyrian steel and knew how to use it. That much the servants had been willing to tell him.
"I would like to call it a fair warning instead of a threat. I just want you to understand that I am prepared to tell you all you are dying to know but it comes with a condition. If you are not willing to take a vow to keep it a secret for as long as needed, you will not be allowed to leave the North for the time being and all your outgoing messages will be checked." Jon kept his tone friendly. The last thing he wanted was to alienate the heir to Highgarden.
"You can enforce that? You really mean to say that House Stark will let you confine me here as a virtually hostage? I have been given guest rights. You cannot be serious."
Both men were staring each other down. Jon didn't budge.
"I am deadly serious. Not a single hair on your head will be harmed but you will remain House Stark's guest for a while longer. Now do you still want to know who I really am and how I am connected to House Stark?" Jon kept his face impassive as he intimidated Willas Tyrell.
"Jon? Here you are. I thought I heard your voice. Excuse me for the interruption, Lord Tyrell. I need to speak to my uh to Lord Celtigar." Benjen Stark looked at both men who seemed ready to declare war on each other.
Jon relaxed his shoulders. "Think about it Lord Tyrell. Just come find me when you want more information."
Without waiting for Willas' response, Jon turned toward his uncle. "I am free now. Let's adjourn to my room."
***
"What was that all about?" Uncle Benjen asked him the moment they were out of earshot of the library. "Isn't he about to leave anyway?"
"He is just curious, Uncle. He knows that Loras has a secret and has figured out it has to do with me. He was only trying to get me to tell him."
"Tell me you didn't threaten him?" Benjen Stark had felt the tension between the two young men when he had inadvertently interrupted them.
"I didn't threaten him." Jon reassured his uncle immediately. "I just issued a friendly warning. I told him that if he really wanted to know who I was and he was not willing to take a vow to keep the secret afterwards, he would not be allowed to leave Winterfell for the time being and would not be free to send messages without having their content screened. I didn't raise my voice and kept my tone friendly. Anyway, don't feel sorry for him. Feel sorry for me. He started it when he asked his questions directly to my face."
"He will pick it up in the hallways soon enough. The entire keep is talking about you." His uncle warned him.
"Well, it appears he hasn't so far. Perhaps 'the entire keep' knows when to keep silent? I bet he will come find me soon enough. I saw his resolve weaken and might have folded in there had you not interrupted us."
"You asked me to come find you and I did. And for the record, I am not feeling sorry for anyone."
They entered Jon's room and sat down at the small table. "Well, here I am. Let us get this over with."
"Can I offer you a drink before we start, Uncle. "
"Robb did the honours, I am fine."
Jon poured himself a cup of water and drank greedily.
"I must thank you for talking to Robb. Your preparations made it easy for me to get him to accept some changes." His uncle remarked.
Jon looked surprised for a moment but then understood. "You asked him to appoint some advisers?"
"I got him to consider discussing his issues for the upkeep of Winterfell with Maester Luwin and Rodrik Cassel. And he is also considering inviting the second son of Lord Manderly for a visit upon his father's agreement." His uncle confirmed.
"He was more reluctant when I proposed to install a kind of small council to govern the North. I might have overdone it when I suggested making a habit of gathering the major bannermen perhaps twice a year to discuss their demands. Even though I argued that that would temper the demands of the Lords, knowing their requests would become common knowledge and that it would ingratiate them to House Stark when they get the impression that they have a bit of a say in the governing of the Kingdom they all live in, Robb resisted. In the end he agreed to write to his father about this idea."
"I am surprised you got him to agree to hear the advice of Cassel adn Maester Luwin. He seemed a bit out of spirit and rather short tempered when I spoke to him. I even had the fleeting feeling he didn't trust me at one point."
"Jon," his uncle sighed, "keep in mind the ordeal he went through. He suffered a great shock and no matter how strong a front he keeps up, on the inside he is still traumatised. We cannot begin to understand the things he suffered at the hands of Ramsay Snow. It is a wonder he is so coherent."
"I know. I saw the dark circles under his eyes. I am at a loss of how to deal with him. I do not want to treat him as if he is breakable, but then if I treat him as an equal and he can't deal with it, he bites back." He looked to his uncle for advice.
"The only thing we can do is be patient, try not to put too much pressure on him and distract him when we see his thoughts wander to dark places. That night at the Dreadfort, the three of you kept him company I heard. That was a splendid idea. You should orchestrate more of these encounters."
"That was Edric's idea." Jon gave credit where it was due. "I will see to it we end the evening in Robb's room tonight."
"Okay, now that that is settled. What do you need my advice about?"
Jon proceeded to talk to him about the messages he had prepared to Ser Gerold and how he had tried to find the right tone to inform him of Sandor Clegane's change of status and how Lady Brienne of Tarth had been appointed has his replacement. He told him about the timing he had agreed to for the attack on Pyke and that he was leaving for Eastwatch in less than a sennight.
"I was hoping things could be resolved beyond the Wall before I had to fly back South and that Edric and Brienne could leave for Eastwatch as well. But it seems I am in a bit of a bind. What do I do if the enemy keeps holed up in the far North?"
His uncle told him that if he was going to fly to Eastwatch anyway, he should not worry and make hypothetical decisions before knowing the exact situation. He could send a raven as soon as he decided to send for Lord Dayne and Lady Brienne."
Still they went through several possible plans of actions before his uncle decided they had exhausted the subject.
"Robb proposed we meet in his room tomorrow afternoon after the mid-day meal. He told me you asked to discuss Theon Greyjoy's fate and the future of House Bolton."
"Did he show you his displeasure as well? With me he acted rather offended when I wanted to have a say in Theon's fate." Jon complained and looked at his uncle for support.
His uncle looked startled. "Not at all. I had the impression he was all for it and that it was his idea to involve you in the decision. Do not take it to heart, Jon. Once more I must ask you to bear in mind that Robb is in physical pain as well as suffering from a mental trauma."
"I am willing to do anything that might help him. I will do better, Uncle." Jon promised.
"Before I leave, what is that I hear about you taking Arya to see the dragons? Have you not already earned her undying love?" His uncle's tone was teasing.
Jon smiled and felt the tension leave him slowly as he told Uncle Benjen exactly why he would take his youngest cousin to see Rhaegal and Viserion.
***
Arya's reaction had been rather predictable. She had not been offended in the least for being kept in the dark for so long. She was super proud he told her before he told Sansa and Rickon.
Jon had promised Arya to show her something in the woods but that he first needed to tell her a secret. He had persuaded her to share a horse so he could talk more privately with her on the way over there. Lady Brienne would follow them but would keep her distance. When Arya had asked him why Lady Brienne came along, Jon had explained he had promised to take the necessary precautions and she was there to act as a guard.
Sitting behind her on the horse, they set a leisurely pace. Jon held the reigns with one hand and had the other around her waist.
"Jon, I am dying of curiosity here. The way you asked me I know it is a really nice surprise."
"I think it is. One you'll never guess." He stalled on purpose to elicit a reaction.
"Jooooo'ooon," she groaned taking his bait. "I already vowed I would keep your secret. Please, puh-leeze tell me now?"
"Pretty please with a cherry on top?" He teased her some more.
"Anything you want. Just tell me." She all but ordered him.
Leaning towards her he quietly started to tell her of their kinship. "What would you say if instead of your adopted brother, I was your kin by blood, that in fact I am your cousin?"
"Truly? " She turned her head a bit so she could look at him. "How is that even possible? Uncle Benjen never married and Uncle Edmure hasn't either."
"Don't you think we look alike somewhat?" He gave her a clue. "Same dark hair, same eyes, even our noses have some similarities. Who do they always say you resemble the most, Arya?"
"Aunt Lyanna?!?! But, but." She stopped. She had adjusted her position again and he couldn't see her expression.
"I am your aunt Lyanna's son. See, she was never kidnapped. Who could kidnap the wild Wolf and live to tell the tale? You see, she fell in love and eloped. I am her son and your cousin." He loosened his arm around her waist a bit, allowing her space so she could think things through.
"She married Lord Celtigar from the Driftmark? How come Father never knew?" Arya finally asked him.
"He knew Arya. But it was all a big secret because I am not really Lord Celtigar. Your father knew that as well and he protected me. Uncle Benjen knew as well. Will you believe me if I tell you I am actually a Prince?"
He was sure that even with the distance Lady Brienne was keeping between them, she could still hear Arya's exclamation.
"You're a Prince!"
"Shhh Arya. Keep your voice down. It is supposed to be a secret for now, remember." He could see the blush spreading on her right cheek.
"I am sorry, Jon. I promise, I won't forget ever again." She whispered. She turned her head a bit so she could look him in the eye. "Your father was a King or a Prince?" He waited sure it would come to her any moment now.
"Prince Rhaegar Targaryen!" She exclaimed but kept her voice down. "Did Aunt Lyanna really love him?"
"So I am told by three famous Kingsguards. I do not want to call the Sword of the Morning a liar, Arya." He teased.
"No way?!"
"Oh now you call me a liar as well? Me, your very best friend in the realm." Jon smiled at her. "Isn't your neck hurting? Perhaps you should face forward again."
"Let us dismount. I wanna hear everything and be able to look at you when you tell me. I expect it is quite a story. Tell it all, Jon. Start from the beginning and don't leave anything out."
"We can stop for a bit by the banks of the river over there. But not too long, you hear. We need to get back to Winterfell by supper. I promised your mother you would have time to wash up and change before supper." Jon helped her dismount.
Arya made quick work of finding the perfect spot and she all but ordered Jon to sit next to her and start spilling. Jon gave her a censured version of his life. When he finished they looked at each other an identical expression of contentment on both their faces. Arya didn't stay silent for long.
"You are a Prince for real? And father is helping to make you King? You will be the best King in the entire realm!" She suddenly turned very still. Her voice wavered a bit when she asked. "Will you still be my friend?"
"Of course, Arya." He put his arm around her and pulled her close. "You are one of my very best friends and that will not change. If you keep the secret for now you can boast later that you are a cousin of the King and that he is your very best friend to everyone who will hear you. You can also tell them that you knew before they did but that the King personally trusted you to keep his secret." Seeing she still wasn't entire reassured he added.
"Besides we are cousins. You can't escape the acquaintance now. You will be invited for nameday parties, marriages, perhaps even the occasional tournament."
Arya nodded vigorously totally on board now. She rearranged their positions so her back leaned against his chest. "Will you need to marry a Princess? Oh, is a cousin of a King a Princess as well?"
Jon didn't reply immediately. The way she had nestled himself against him had already reminded him of his dragonride with Daenerys. Her question made the image even more vivid. He put his arms around her skinny body.
"Not necessarily." He answered after a while. It was the exact same answer to both her questions but he didn't point that out. He distracted her by telling her of his plans.
"But I intend to make you a Princess as soon as I am King. You see, I will proclaim that the North becomes a Principality just the same as Dorne. Your father and brothers will be Princes and your mother, you and Sansa will become Princesses of the North."
"I don't care about that. I am not sure I want to be a Princess. I will not marry and become some dull Lady of a keep. I want to become a warrior."
"If you still want that when you are old enough to decide that for yourself, I promise to talk to your parents."
Arya turned her head around and showed him how happy that statement made her. She sing-songed her reaction but kept her voice down. "And you can't say no to a King, you always have to respect and obey your King. Thanks Jon."
"I won't order them, Arya." He warned her. "I only promise that come the time, I will do my utmost to persuade them. That is if you have not changed your mind by then. But let us not talk about the future. I am no King yet. Let's talk about what I am about to show you in the woods. I am a Targaryen Prince and I have another secret. Can you guess what it is?"
"I already know you have a Valyrian sword." Arya looked deep in thought. "Can you give me a hint? I like riddles."
Jon whispered secretively in her ear. "I told you I was your cousin because I am the son of your Aunt Lyanna." Arya nodded.
"That means I am half Stark and I have Ghost to prove it. Well, since Prince Rhaegar was aunt Lyanna's husband and he sired me, I am half Targaryen and I have something to prove that as well."
"No way! Jon, don't tell me." Arya stopped, too shocked to put her idea into words. She was scared he would say that she had it all wrong and that when he revealed what is actually was that he wanted to show her in the woods it would turn out to be something stupid or boring.
"Okay I won't." Jon teased. "So we won't be visiting my dragons then. We better turn around and hurry back to Winterfell. Rhaegal and Viserion will be disappointed though. I promised them they would get to meet my favourite cousin today."
The rest of her behaviour had indeed been predictable. Even though Jon had warned her several times not to approach both dragons before he told her it was okay, she had not been scared in the least. Rhaegal and Viserion had taken a short interest in her but had soon gone back to sleep when they couldn't sense any dragonblood in this other kin of their human. Arya hadn't minded. She had just sat there against a tree admiring them and she still would have been there if eventually, Jon had not dragged her back to their horse and taken her home to Winterfell.
Interlude 27: The prodigal son
Two days ago it had been now since he had arrived home. Two days of waiting for his father to acknowledge his return and hear him out. Prince Quentyn was starting to think that these two days had been even more miserable that the entire time he had been kept imprisoned by pirates.
He realised that his father would be extremely disappointed or more accurately he would be furious. Ever since he had been set free he had done nothing but try to come up with some version of the truth that would not set his father off and get him severely punished or perhaps even disinherited. But all that time hadn't helped him it seemed. When Areo Hotah brought him before the ruler of Dorne, words failed him when his father hurled his accusation at him.
"I am sorry, Father. I only did what you told me." People thought Doran Martell was weak but Prince Quentyn was afraid of his father. 'What did that make him?' He stiffened his posture, steeling himself for the next attack.
"I told you to marry the Princess by any means necessary. I did not ask you to be captured by pirates and come home with a whore you claim is your wedded wife and pregnant with your firstborn." His father leaned forward in his plus chair, his eyes dark and angry.
Prince Quentyn's voice sounded hoarse and bitter when he defended himself. "I did what I had to in order to survive and come back to you, Father. They told me that you had declined to pay a ransom and that my only way out was marrying the daughter of the pirate captain and produce an heir that would inherit Dorne. They warned me they would come visit at regular intervals to be reassured about the health of my wife and heir. I had no choice."
"You always have a choice." His father was quick to answer. He scoffed. "I reckon you enjoyed sticking your dick into a silver haired girl. Was she a maiden? Did you close your eyes and pretended you were fucking Daenerys Targaryen?"
Prince Quentyn was speechless. His father taking advantage of having the upper hand continued his tirade.
"No pirate child will become heir of Dorne, not even if you were to become my successor if Gods forbid something happened to your sister. Don't those dumb raiders know how the succession is regulated by Dornish law? I hope that at the very least you explained to them that Princess Arianne is your elder sister and the first in the line to succeed me.
"I didn't, I uh," Quentyn stammered.
"Let me be clear," his father looked at him with contempt now. "I do not recognise your so-called marriage. Your whore is not welcome to live on Dornish soil unless she is willing to accept her status as a mere mistress and that the child will be a Sand and will not be entitled to a single thing. If you don't have the stomach to tell her, by all means, send her to me. Now leave me. I do not want to lay eyes on you again before the matter has been settled."
"But what about uh the pirates' visits?"
"They were bluffing. You have no backbone, son. You can't get a poor exiled princess to marry you and you let yourself be tricked by a few threats made by some pirate scumbags. Now go and explain to your whore exactly what a Sand is."
"But father, you should hear me out. I have intelligence about those dragons. You will want to hear this." He pleaded, desperate to obtain some kind of recognition from his father.
Doran tried to straighten himself without giving away how much pain he was in. His affliction was getting worse but he was not willing to let his son know how bad his gout had gotten during his absence.
"Why didn't you begin your sorry tale with that? Or were you too afraid to tell me that you let the princess and her dragon escape." His father's resentment hadn't lessened one bit.
"The dragons do not belong to the Princess Daenerys." At his father's questioning look he added. "Yes, father, there are two dragons. Someone at the docks in Pentos described them as a green one and a white one. They claimed there was only one rider though and it was a male. So it couldn't have been the Princess." His tone slightly berating his father for the fool's errand he had been sent on.
"Did you find out who the dragonrider was?" Doran Martell asked, remembering his younger brother's latest cryptic letter.
Prince Quentyn, glad his father finally was willing to hear him out was quick to elaborate. "I only heard theories. Some servant girl told me the dragonrider had visited with the Princess. A beggar on the street told me however it was a sellsword belonging to the Golden Company, a bastard son of a great Northern House that had fled to Essos because his family was ashamed of him."
"A bastard son of a Northern House with Valyrian blood? Nonsense! Did they say who the mother was?"
"Well, the tale grows even stranger. On my way over here I heard some sailors talk about how the Hand of the King had cheated the rightful heir of Winterfell out of his inheritance and that the young man would come to take his ancestral seat with dragons. When I asked who they were talking about they told me that Brandon Stark had married a woman at the Driftmark and that she had given birth to a son who resembles Lord Stark so much, nobody doubts his story." Prince looked at his father expectantly.
"You are a bigger fool than I ever thought possible. Coming home with nothing but fanciful rumours. And what is worse, believing them as well." His father declared with authority.
"But Father," Prince Quentyn began pleadingly.
"Think Quentyn. A dragonrider shows up in Pentos and visits the Princess. What is more likely? That he is a bastard of a northern house or that he is kin to the Targaryen Princess he happens to visit? Perhaps Viserys isn't dead but has dyed his hair to fool us all. Must I do everything myself?" He pulled a chord to summon Areo Hotah.
"What will you do? Will you write the Princess?" Prince Quentyn was out of his depth. He could not understand his father's reasoning.
"I can't do that because of your actions, you oaf. Even your uncle has gotten wind somehow of your despicable behaviour and has cautioned me not to wake the dragon. He claims he was well on his way to forge a useful alliance with a very powerful ally and that my actions may have doomed us all to burn now."
Prince Quentyn wasn't sure he'd ever forget the accusatory eyes of his father that looked at him as if he had murdered every last man in Dorne.
"But Father," Prince Quentyn tried once more to lessen his father's ire or at the very least to redirect it.
"No but father me. You were asked to do whatever necessary to marry her. Resorting to violence was only allowed if you succeeded in making her pregnant. You didn't succeed however, did you? I do not want to hear another excuse from your worthless mouth. Now leave my sight and ask your sister to join me. I do not want to see you before you have solved the issue with that pregnant whore. Oh, and you are responsible for our shore defenses. I will not allow the slightest failure. Nobody lands on our shores without my express permission. That includes pirates and noble visitors, whether they originate from Westeros or Essos. Now leave!" His father bellowed.
Doran Martell slumped in his chair when the door closed after him. He felt drained. He had used every last bit of energy not to show his son how frail he was becoming. He was extremely disappointed in his first born. He wondered if it would have not been better had his son perished at sea.