"Thank you, Prince!"
Jon Snow's face lit up with excitement.
For the first time since arriving in Dorne, he had finally received a clue about the woman who might be his mother. The thought alone filled him with joy.
His usually calm gray eyes sparkled with anticipation, and a bright smile appeared on his youthful face.
Jon bowed respectfully toward Prince Oberyn Martell.
Then, almost immediately, he turned as if preparing to rush out of the tent.
Watching the young northerner's impatient reaction, everyone present was momentarily stunned.
It was clear that the boy's mind was completely occupied with one thing—
Finding his mother.
Fortunately, Bronn was far more experienced in social matters.
He quickly grabbed Jon's shoulder before he could leave.
"Ser Jon," Bronn muttered quietly, leaning close to his ear, "I may not know much about noble etiquette, but I'm pretty sure if you leave now…"
"You'll be sleeping in the stables tonight."
Bronn's whisper made Jon freeze instantly.
Only then did he realize that walking out like that would be extremely rude.
Bronn straightened up and offered the nobles present an apologetic grin.
Jon turned bright red.
He suddenly felt like a foolish child who had embarrassed himself in front of important lords.
"Hahaha!"
A burst of laughter echoed through the tent.
It was Renly Baratheon.
The young lord leaned back in his chair, clearly amused.
"It seems Duke Eddard Stark kept his secrets well," Renly said with a chuckle.
"Look at how eager the boy is."
His laughter helped ease the awkward atmosphere.
Prince Oberyn Martell also smiled.
The famous Red Viper of Dorne showed his bright white teeth as he studied Jon with curious amusement.
"No need to rush, Ser Jon," Oberyn said lazily.
"You still have plenty of time."
Then he added with a playful tone,
"And here in Dorne, no one will look down on a bastard."
Jon blinked in surprise.
Oberyn leaned forward slightly.
"In fact," he continued with a mischievous smile, "perhaps you should find yourself a Dornish lover."
"A woman…"
"Or a man."
"Which do you prefer?"
Oberyn paused deliberately before adding,
"Or perhaps both?"
The remark instantly stunned Jon.
Perhaps it was because Jon had brought such an impressive gift—the head of Gregor Clegane—that Oberyn seemed unusually patient and friendly toward him.
Even so, the Red Viper's teasing words caught Jon completely off guard.
"I— I mean— listen—"
Jon stammered awkwardly.
His face turned crimson.
His first instinct was to quickly declare that he didn't like men.
But then he realized that Renly Baratheon was standing right beside him.
Saying something like that would be incredibly rude.
Yet if he said he only liked women…
That might sound equally awkward.
Jon opened his mouth several times, but no words came out.
He looked utterly lost.
Seeing the poor boy struggle, Renly sighed and stepped forward again to rescue him.
"That's enough teasing, Prince Oberyn," Renly said calmly.
"You've received the gift that belongs to the Iron Throne."
"I think it's time you show House Martell's true attitude."
Renly's tone had changed completely.
It was no longer playful.
He pulled over a stool and sat down, fixing Oberyn with a sharp gaze.
"Don't pretend you don't understand what I'm talking about."
Now the conversation had finally reached the true reason for Renly's visit.
The tension between Dorne and the Stormlands had dragged on for quite some time.
Ever since the war in King's Landing ended and Kevan Lannister's plans collapsed, the political situation had shifted dramatically.
Tywin Lannister had already surrendered on the Riverlands battlefield.
Once that happened, the reason for the military standoff between Dorne and the Stormlands disappeared.
Renly had no interest in continuing this pointless confrontation.
The Dornish Marches had always been hostile territory for the Stormlands.
Neither side trusted the other.
Even if Jon had not brought Gregor Clegane's head, Renly would still have sought a way to end the standoff.
The gift merely gave him a convenient excuse.
And during the past weeks, Renly and Oberyn had already argued several times.
Each conversation was full of bargaining and veiled threats.
Both men were growing increasingly irritated.
Oberyn snorted.
"The king ordered troops to be raised across the Seven Kingdoms," he replied coldly.
"Yet you are the one preventing my Dornish army from marching to serve the king."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming with mockery.
"And you dare accuse me?"
"If I were King Robert," Oberyn continued lazily, "I would throw you into a dungeon and leave you there for the rest of your life."
Renly frowned.
"Do you really think arguing like this is meaningful?"
Oberyn shrugged casually, pretending ignorance.
Renly's eyes grew colder.
"Perhaps next time what arrives in Dorne will not be a gift…"
"But an order from the Iron Throne."
He paused deliberately.
"An order to conquer Dorne for rebellion."
Renly spoke with the confidence of a victor.
After all, the Iron Throne had just won a major war.
However, Oberyn merely smiled in disdain.
Then his gaze shifted toward the wooden box resting on the table.
Inside was the severed head of Gregor Clegane.
The Mountain.
The man responsible for the death of Oberyn's sister and her children.
The mockery slowly faded from Oberyn's eyes.
He sighed softly.
"Fine," he said at last.
"You're right, Renly."
"This war is over."
He lifted his wine cup.
"The Lannisters lost."
"That alone is enough reason for us to celebrate."
Oberyn's lips curled slightly.
"And besides…"
"Robert's son brought me such a fine gift."
He gestured toward the box.
"So there is no need for Dornish armies to remain here."
"Dorne will withdraw its troops."
Then he added casually,
"Although…"
"If you require assistance…"
"We wouldn't mind helping you deal with those scavengers from the Free Cities."
Oberyn raised his wine cup to hide the strange smile on his face.
He clearly knew about the mercenaries gathering near Dragonstone and the Stormlands coast.
Renly's expression darkened.
If Dorne had not kept such a massive army stationed nearby, he could have easily crushed those mercenaries himself.
"No need," Renly replied coldly.
"The Stormlands have more than enough strength."
With that, he stood up.
He had achieved his objective.
There was no reason to stay any longer.
Renly walked toward the exit of the tent.
Oberyn watched him leave without saying a word.
His eyes remained thoughtful.
Just before stepping outside, Renly suddenly stopped.
"Oh, right," he said.
"There will be a feast tonight in Blackport."
"To celebrate the victory."
"And to welcome Ser Jon Snow."
He glanced back.
"Prince Oberyn is welcome to attend."
Then Renly left the Dornish camp.
Jon remained behind.
He still had something important to do.
"Lord Edric Dayne?" a patrol guard asked curiously.
He pointed toward a nearby tent.
"If I remember correctly, he should still be inside."
"You'll find him there."
Jon nodded and followed the guard.
Dust rose beneath their boots as they walked through the camp.
When they reached the tent, the prince's guard called out loudly.
"Lord Edric Dayne."
"You have visitors."
A young voice responded from inside.
"Visitors?"
"Is it Lord Beric Dondarrion?"
The voice sounded hopeful.
Jon frowned slightly.
Why did that voice sound like a child's?
A moment later, the tent curtain flew open.
A beautiful boy rushed outside.
He looked about ten or eleven years old.
His pale blond hair shimmered under the sunlight.
His eyes were large and bright—deep blue with a hint of violet.
He looked around eagerly.
But when he realized that the person he expected was not there, disappointment crossed his face.
Bronn stared at him in disbelief.
"Wait…"
"Lord Edric Dayne is a child?"
Edric finally noticed Jon and the others.
The guard bowed slightly.
"Lord Edric, this is Ser Jon Snow."
"Prince Oberyn asked me to bring him here."
With that, the guard left.
Jon and Edric stared awkwardly at each other.
Realizing that Beric had not come, Edric blushed in embarrassment.
He almost retreated back into the tent.
Jon quickly stepped forward and bowed politely.
"Lord Edric Dayne."
"My name is Jon Snow."
"My father is Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell."
Edric froze.
Then his eyes suddenly lit up.
"You're him!"
He smiled brightly.
"My milk brother!"
Jon blinked.
"Your… brother?"
He turned toward Bronn.
Both men looked completely confused.
Jon suddenly widened his eyes.
"Wait!"
"Is your mother… Ashara Dayne?"
Edric froze.
Then he burst into laughter.
"No, Ser Jon."
"Ashara Dayne is my aunt."
"She was my father's sister."
"As for you being my milk brother…"
"That's because we were both nursed by the same woman."
"Vera."
"She was my wet nurse."
Jon's face turned red again.
Bronn muttered quietly,
"She must have been impressive."
Jon shot him a glare.
"Sorry," Jon quickly said.
"I didn't mean to offend you."
Edric smiled kindly.
"It's alright."
"And please don't call me Ser."
"I'm only a cupbearer."
Then he added with a cheerful expression,
"But I know who you are."
"Vera told me many stories."
"Stories about Lord Eddard Stark."
"And about you."
Jon felt extremely awkward.
Because he knew exactly which stories those were.
King Robert had once mentioned a woman named Vera during their journey south.
Robert had joked that Ned Stark had slept with a maiden during the war.
And that she was the mother of his bastard.
Jon remembered that conversation clearly.
So when Edric spoke Vera's name—
Jon's heart began to pound.
The answer he had been searching for all his life might finally be within reach.
His hands trembled slightly.
He instinctively placed one hand on the hilt of his sword.
Then quickly removed it.
He opened his mouth.
But the words wouldn't come out.
Edric tilted his head curiously.
"Is something wrong?"
Jon swallowed nervously.
His breathing quickened.
Looking at the boy in front of him, he spoke slowly.
"If I may ask…"
"Did Vera ever tell you…"
Jon hesitated.
Then forced himself to finish the sentence.
"Whether I am her son?"
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)