Jon glanced to where Yoren was supposed to come with the recruits he'd managed to scrounge up. A trio of Lannister guards stood off to the side watching them as Ned frowned at Jon asking, "You certain they'll come?"
"Thoros has told him the area they await," Jon nodded. "If they aren't there, then just head north and Robb will free you."
Ned frowned. "Perhaps I should take the black just to let them think we are obeying them."
"No, the North and I have need of you yet. Though…" Jon sighed, seeming to steel himself against ridicule. "Uncle Benjen wrote to me. He said the Others come, that the dead walk and travel south. You should send someone to see what he means."
"Jon…"
"I hatched a dragon and came back from death," Jon told him. "Is it so impossible that Benjen tells the truth? Why else would he send it in code? Something has happened. If he tells the truth then… I don't know what to do."
Ned saw his sincere concern and was surprised by the pride he felt, as if it made him seem more a man. "We'll figure something out, and when you're ready you'll find an army waiting for you in the North."
"Assuming they don't try to kill me for what I've done," Jon said grimly.
"They'll understand," Ned assured. "I'll make sure they do."
When Yoren arrived with a group bound for the Wall, both Jon and Ned recognized Gendry among them. Both also seemed to realize he wouldn't have gone on his own, which meant someone was getting him out of the city.
Ned looked to Jon and held back a smile. "Be safe, Jon."
"You as well," Jon nodded, hating that he couldn't shake the man's hand or show any affection else it could break the masquerade. Instead he turned and coldly walked off, his honor guard soon following at a distance while the three escorting Ned followed him to Yoren.
In the weeks that followed Jon found a schedule for himself. His mornings were spent training with Edric. At first he'd felt so unsure if he could teach him, but the more they worked together the less it felt like teaching. It carried less of a burden, seeming more easy as Edric took to most lessons quickly. He seemed willing to try anything, trusting Jon to make him better than he was.
His afternoons were spent working with the builders to finish the new stables whenever he wasn't tending to the horses. Oddly that was when he most missed Dom, whose Ryswell side must have been why he was such a good hand with horses, yet Jon found himself struggling to understand them with even a quarter the ease Dom had. Still, he knew enough to clean after them and groom them, just not enough to know their moods and which was the best for a task with little more than a look.
His nights were spent with Sam, Edric and Thoros, the four taking to meeting and chatting, ignoring their guards and enjoying themselves as best they could. Sam, who had returned to working in the library, often gave Jon books to read in his room at night when he wasn't strumming at the harp Dom had left behind. Though Dom wasn't there to teach him, he intended to give Myrcella her song. He just didn't know when he would have the chance.
Jon was kept at a distance from the royal family, though Joffrey sometimes flashed him smug smirks whenever he spotted Jon in the distance. Those ended when word arrived of Robb being named King in the North.
He'd been brought before him and Jon decided he had only one option. "He was always the spoiled child," Jon offered with a scoff. "I bet his mother gifted him the crown when she met him. Polished it well for him before she set it upon his head and took to clutching his mouth and speaking through him."
Jon had spent well over a year acting as Joffrey's guard with Barristan. Not only did he carefully observe the cruel prince, but some days he took to distracting him to spare his siblings his torment. He'd come to know what did and didn't work for the Joffrey, so wasn't surprised to see the king laugh and glance toward Cersei at the mention of an overbearing mother.
"Ser Jon. You said before your siblings were well enough, but surely you understand that they may die. Robb will surely have to now his mother has named him king."
Jon let out a sigh and nodded. "I understand, your grace. War is filled with tragedy, and though I pray the gods will find a way to spare them by the time this is over, I fear it unheard."
"If all your brothers should die, there would be no Stark to claim Winterfell, would there?"
Jon arched his brow. "The girls perhaps."
"My betrothed and her wild sister?" Joffrey scoffed. "Neither will see light once they are captured, assuming they live as well. No. There wouldn't be a Stark, though there would be one with Stark blood who could be of use to us. Who may prove his loyalty and be named Lord of Winterfell."
Jon stared at Joffrey, much like his council did. "Your grace…" Jon decided to use this, though hated sharing a memory that still stung even now. "As a child I dared to play at being Lord of Winterfell once, but my brother told me I never could because I was a bastard."
"And should we win, I would want a Stark in Winterfell, not a bastard. But a king's decree could change such things for one loyal to him," Joffrey offered.
Joffrey's council had advised against having his kingsguard beat a knight as he'd wanted. The smallfolk would know Jon couldn't fight back, and think it as his loyalty shown in public being punished. His victory had given him recognition enough among the small folk, but his obeying on the steps of the sept had spread it even further. To beat a knight who wouldn't defend himself might turn them, especially those loyal to the faith, and the High Septon was already upset for such a grim display happening before the sept. Instead Joffrey found his joy in turning Jon against his family.
Jon raised his head. "I can only thank you for the offer, your grace, but pray still peace will be found before the need arises. I would stay a bastard if it meant peace for the realm." Of course there would never be peace, and thus he could never remain a bastard.
The comet came, a streak of red across the sky which spawned a dozen names. Sat in the yard one morning, Sam had looked up to it with a smirk. "Bloodwing," he said, earning looks from Jon and Edric. "It is red like blood, and stretches across the sky."
Jon shook his head and waved for Edric to continue his attack, leaving Sam to finish with his bow. They would act as Jon's squire the day Joffrey's nameday tourney arrived and he was all but forced to enter. There would be little to gain from such a pitiful win, but he would take it if he must.
However before he could ride, Ser Dontos Hollard arrived drunk and Joffrey called for him to be drowned in a cask from the cellars. Stood off to the side, Jon glanced at the man being raised by guards as others rushed to bring a cask. He saw Myrcella shift nervously, holding Tommen's hand as both resolved themselves to look rather than risk Joffrey forcing them to.
"Your grace," Jon said moving toward their box. He was stopped by Boros Blount and his own honor guard pointing their swords at him. "This man is a shame to himself and his house, but isn't it better to let this fool dry out in your dungeons than have the smallfolk think you cursed for slaying a man on your nameday?"
"Cursed?" Joffrey asked with a scoff, looking disappointed in Jon.
Sandor glanced at him before looking to the king. "What a man sows on his name day, he reaps throughout the year."
Joffrey looked from Jon to Sandor. "Fine," he sighed, looking to the men holding the drunk knight. "Take this fool to the dungeons! Let him dry out there, until he is a prune of a man."
Myrcella met Jon's eyes briefly, flashing him a thankful smile.
When Joffrey called off the tourney, Tommen protested, and Myrcella answered Joffrey's dismissal of their childish behavior by reminding him they were children. That earned a laugh from the Hound and a smile from Jon, who backed away with his guard. He watched them prepare Tommen's opponent, a quintain which once struck swung around and unhorsed him.
Joffrey broke into riotous laughter while Myrcella stood to go help Tommen but saw Jon leap over the railing and rush to the young prince's side. He helped the prince up onto his feet as the kingsguard stood at attention, ready to strike, but stopping as Joffrey held his hand raised.
"You okay?" Jon asked.
"It hurts," Tommen whined, sniffing as he looked around at the laughing people.
"I know," Jon offered with a nod. "It does sometimes, but getting up and trying again proves to them we're stronger than they think. So long as you get up, their laughs will never matter. Not against your courage."
Tommen smiled at him. "I can try again?"
"If that is what you wish," Jon nodded.
The crowd watched with interest as Jon helped Tommen back onto his horse, clearly giving him tips as he pointed toward the quintain.
Myrcella found herself unsure if she should frown or smile watching him advise her younger brother. Much of him confused her lately. Everything had gone wrong when her uncle attacked his father and Jon stayed at his bedside. After that he was sent to slay Gregor and everything got even worse.
She had spent those days afraid, not only for herself, but for Jon as well. She knew enough that he would be considered a threat due to his father's actions. Yet he returned to King's Landing, and did so after nearly dying because he wanted to help others escape an ambush. After she saw the scar she'd had nightmares of him laying in the river run red with the blood pouring from his chest.
Maybe that had been what changed him. Or perhaps like many men who rode to war he came back a bit different. Either way she had been sure something had changed. Not only was Jon more outspoken now, but he spoke what she was sure were lies. Whenever he spoke of his family he had avoided speaking of Catelyn, but the rest he spoke well of, even Sansa before they had grown closer during her stay in King's Landing. He'd told her once he hoped Sansa would marry a man half as good as their father, yet Jon had been quick to speak against him.
She could understand why he did either way she thought on it. Maybe it was more complex than she thought and he had both those good things to say of his family and the disregard for them he expressed recently. Or more likely he knew as she did he was walking a tight rope with a noose around his neck, so did all he could to appear loyal.
The only thing she couldn't figure out was why. They wouldn't have killed his father if he wasn't there, he was too valuable. He could have been traded for her uncle Jaime. Their mother had been wroth with Joffrey for releasing Eddard once they learned of Jaime's capture. Though he reminded her she'd been the one to suggest he take the black, she didn't care. Myrcella felt sure that her mother or brother would send out men to get Lord Eddard back if they hadn't already sent men to kill him.
A petty part of her wanted to think Jon had returned for her, but she knew better. Jon and her were barely anything yet, not enough for him to risk his life for. There would be other women, ones older or prettier than her surely. No, it was more likely he'd spoken the truth and acted out of loyalty than his coming to be at her side. And she completely doubted that, though would never say as much to anyone.
Her thoughts were broken by the sudden rise of the portcullis and the entry of Tyrion leading a column of freeriders, sellswords and savages with a few Lannister men-at-arms. She noticed Jon kept his distance as Tommen and her rushed to greet Tyrion.
"A day later and you'd be taller than me," Tyrion told Tommen with a laugh.
Making his way to Joffrey they spoke for a time before Joffrey called for Jon to join them. The knight made his way over, earning suspicious looks from the black-haired sellsword and one eyed savage who shadowed Tyrion.
"It seems much has happened since we last met, Snow. I hear you have quite a scar to show for it."
"It's what happens when you face men men too weak to kill you," said Jon.
Joffrey snickered at that while the Sandor scoffed and Tyrion smirked. "Is that so?"
"If he weren't, then how am I here?" Jon asked arching his brow. "If you prefer a more fantastic tale, go ask Thoros his thoughts on it. He'll spin one of his god's will letting me live."
Tyrion nodded. "I suppose I've as little choice in this as you."
"I would honored to serve a lord," Jon said simply.
"You can swear yourself to me later, Snow," Tyrion said waving his hand. "I'll call for you when I'm ready to have a pet wolf."
Jon watched him and his shadows leave while Joffrey left with the Hound. Walking back toward Edric and Sam he began to remove his armor, Edric quickly moving to help him.
They were making their way to their quarters after bringing Jon's horse to the stable when Thoros found them. "We need to speak," he said urgently, Jon quickly leading them to his room. Once within his chambers Thoros told them, "Viserys is dead."
"What?" Jon's face fell. "Did someone claim the lordship?"
Thoros shook his head. "No. The tales say it was his sister's husband who did it. Poured melted gold across his head to give him the crown he begged for." Thoros gave Jon a sympathetic look. "They say he was called the Beggar King and was cruel to his sister and others."
Jon frowned, looking down. "Then perhaps it's best he died." Looking back to Thoros he asked, "What of Daenerys?"
"She lives as far as I know. No news of her."
Jon nodded. "Barristan will find her. I'm sure of it."
"And if she is as her brother or father?" asked Sam.
Jon crossed his arms. If she was mad then it may be best if she simply died like her brother, but Jon would need her help in the war to come. A Dothraki horde would help them win whatever lands they rode through, but it would also be a horrible thing to unleash a wild horde of raping reavers upon Westeros. Could he truly unleash them upon the lands he sought to rule? If she was older he'd consider standing aside and letting his aunt rule, but she was younger than him and had never spent a day in Westeros. He'd hoped even the threat of her bringing the Dothraki horde might bring people to their side, but if she was like Aerys what was to stop her from unleashing them on every kingdom?
Could he use them and then kill them? Daenerys likely wouldn't sit for that, nor her husband. If he did use them he might have to slay them all, which would make him a kinslayer. Was it worth it to win the throne and avoid the Dothraki destroying their lands. IF she was mad maybe he could play as he has, seem her friend but then once the throne is theirs kill her and take it to free the realm, much as his father Rhaegar should have. He could be a kinslayer if it kept people alive.
Few believed him at first, but it was hard to argue after they found Othor and Jader's bodies and both rose once night came. Thankfully Benjen was trusted enough that Jeor took his advice and posted guards. It was their screams that roused the castle after the wights got free and attacked them. They were trying to make their way toward the Lord Commander when Benjen arrived with a torch to ignite them both.
After that it seemed all could see the truth of it, though none knew who Coldhands had been. Not even Aemon recognized the description Benjen gave of him, making him wonder if perhaps he was some long dead brother from before their time. Riding with him there was little doubt the man was reanimated, yet still had his mind, the rot stopped by the cold or some magic he didn't care to share with Benjen. All he told him was he wouldn't pass the Wall due to spells crafted into it.
He'd also told Benjen there would be a day when children would come to the Wall. Children known to Benjen, and he should make sure they are seen through it whether he is there or not. Benjen didn't know what to make of it, but knew he had little choice but to trust the brother who saved him from death.
If not for the wights Benjen might have ridden south after hearing news of Ned's imprisonment. Jeor assured Benjen he would use his contacts to ensure Ned took the black, but Benjen had feared it wouldn't matter. Thankfully it wasn't long before word came of Ned's sentencing, and though he felt bad for both he and Jon, he knew it better than them taking his head.
He'd also assumed it meant none knew the truth of Jon, at least until the men came from the south with a dragon. Alyn arrived with Ser Raymun Darry and Gladden Wylde, asking to speak with Benjen on behalf of his nephew. Most assumed it was Robb, so they accepted the answer that it was him asking Benjen to try and seek his aid in helping Ned to take the black, only to find out that he had already been sentenced by the time they arrived.
It was only after he took them to their rooms that they opened the chest and revealed the blood red dragon which hopped out and stared at him.
"It's real," Benjen remarked in quiet shock.
"It is," Raymun nodded. "Which is why we need Maester Aemon's help to care for it while Ser Jon is within King's Landing."
Telling the others they sought treatment for a wound that looked infected, Benjen made his way to the maester's quarters. Inside he found not only maester Aemon and his new steward after Chett was killed by Jafer's wight, but their new maester Cayle Hill.
The blond maester had arrived just before the wights were found, and when they were slain had stared at them as they burned, as though his entire view of the world had been shaken. Everything they had told him of magic had been a lie. Many had told him to focus on things beyond earning another valyrian steel link, but even those who had them spoke of the higher mysteries as if they were legends which could never exist again.
Though young he had many a link, with plenty of iron, silver and even black iron. Not only was he a skilled animal handler, but when Benjen came asking Maester Aemon to check on their guest, Cayle had looked up from his book. "I would be happy to help, Ser Benjen," he said, lifting one of his many silver links.
"It is of little concern, brother," Benjen told him. "And please, Benjen is more than enough if Ben is too little."
Cayle chuckled sheepishly. "Of course."
"Would you mind checking on the ravens once you are done, Cayle?"
"Of course." He bowed his head at that, watching the men leave.
Once outside Benjen asked, "How is he?"
"Shaken," Aemon said with a frown. "He is one of the few who holds a Valyrian steel link, and yet all he knows has been shaken by what he saw."
"I meant how do you like him?" Benjen clarified with a smile.
"Ah, he is well enough," Aemon assured. "Intelligent. More learned than most we see here."
"Is he trust worthy?" Benjen asked thinking on the blond bastard born a Hill of the Westerlands.
"As much as any brother," Aemon offered.
Entering the guest quarters they swiftly closed the door and Raymun Darry was quick to shake Aemon's hand, guiding the elderly man. "We've something you need to see, Maester Aemon. Pardon the phrase."
He furrowed his brow in confusion as Benjen took his hand and guided it forward until he heard an odd trill a split second before he felt warm scales across his fingers. With a gasp he faced to the dragon. "He did it?"
"He did," said Raymun.
Aemon's eyes glistened as he shakily put out his left hand to find the bed and sit on the edge, petting the small dragon. "How?"
He turned his head to listen to them explain all that had happened. Benjen clearly hadn't been told everything either, else he might not have gasped at hearing of Jon being cut down by Gregor Clegane and brought back by flames from a red priest and his dragon's kiss. They spoke of their trip north, of Robb's war and Jon's plans in returning to King's Landing.
"Now that Lord Stark comes north to be kidnapped, does Jon intend to stay there?" Aemon asked with a frown.
"As far as we know he does," said Alyn. "He told us he intends to gather allies among their enemies, and thought no better place to do so than among their ranks since Robb would already gather those who do so openly."
Aemon nodded, turning to the dragon which had laid beside him. "And this one's name?"
"Bloodwing," Gladden said, the dragon's golden eyes shifting to him briefly.
Aemon smiled. "It works for our plan."
"Your plan?" asked Raymun.
"Did you not hear of the dragon at the Wall?" Aemon said with a conspiratorial smile. "Born from a lost egg likely left by Queen Alysanne and her dragon Silverwing, kept in secret by the forgotten Targaryen at the Wall until it hatched and became the terror of the north?"
Benjen found their shocked looks amusing, though he had mimicked it when Aemon first shared the tale he and Jon had crafted. "Aemon has taken to walks outside of Castle Black. Unlike the others who run to Mole's Town to bed a woman, he finds his solace in the wild where none know what he does."
"Return with Bloodwing," Aemon told them. "Meet me outside the castle walls and I shall come claim him, saying the egg has hatched suddenly, perhaps due to the comet the men speak of. I hear they are of a color?"
"Both are red, yes," Benjen said.
That night, after the men left, Aemon departed for his walk and remained late. Some of the men laughed as they always did, joking of his going to see a whore, but those died away when Aemon returned with a bundle of crimson set upon his shoulder. The guards had run off in fear, going to get Jeor and waking the castle who came out to see the dragon.
"Aemon, what is that?" Jeor demanded as stood in the yard surrounded by their brothers.
"I believe it is a dragon, Lord Commander." Aemon said with a smile. "I thought if the king will not help us then perhaps we might find another strength to bolster the Wall. One I would imagine Queen Alysanne left behind."
Cayle gaped at the dragon, yet was the first to step forward. "It is magnificent."
"His coloring?" Aemon asked the maester.
"Scarlet," Cayle said looking at the dragon, which eyed them all warily. "Golden eyed with dark skin across its wings."
Aemon nodded. "I shall care for it, Lord Commander."
Jeor gawked at the beast like every other man, but shook his head, looking to Benjen. "Ben, come with me to speak with Maester Aemon in private. I trust you to be my dragon should it try to harm our maester."
The others parted while Benjen followed them to the Lord Commander's chambers. Once inside with the door latched Jeor poured himself a drink before turning to them.
"Is this what you two have been up to?"Jeor asked, making Aemon chuckle while Benjen sighed. "You can't think I haven't noticed you two suddenly becoming friendly. I thought it might just be because of his fondness of your bastard nephew as you said, but I doubt that now."
"In a way, though it is our nephew that unites us," Aemon admitted. Knowing that had made Benjen turn to him Aemon said, "Who better than him to know?"
Jeor tilted his head in confusion. "To know what?"
Benjen glanced at the door before moving forward and telling Jeor. "Jon Snow is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and my sister, Lyanna Stark, who I saw wed before the war started."
"The dragon is his," Aemon added quickly.
Jeor stared at the men and saw neither was lying. "Do you expect him to end your oaths?"
Each shook their heads. "No," said Aemon. "We simply seek to aide one who would help us. One who wished to be one of us before learning the truth of who he is."
Jeor frowned. "You think he would help us?"
"More than Robert ever did and Joffrey likely will," said Benjen. "I've already sent him word of the wights and he's sent us his dragon. He'll believe us, or at least consider it where others won't."
After looking between the two, Jeor chugged the rest of his mug. "What will you need to care for the dragon?"
"Bloodwing," Aemon told him with a smile. "And I would only need food. I prefer to let him live freely in the land beyond the Wall once he is too big to stay within the castle."
"So long as you can be sure he won't kill anyone, you can keep him here and I'll back your story."
"Thank you, Lord Commander," Aemon said with a slight bow of his head while Bloodwing kept his golden eyes on Jeor.
Back in the mester's quarters Aemon found Cayle waiting to speak with him. "Have you named it?" The young maester asked Aemon.
"Bloodwing," Aemon answered.
Cayle nodded, smiling at the creature resting on the old man's hunched shoulder. "I never thought we'd see another."
"And none thought we would see wights either," Aemon said with a frown. "It seems the world is changing."
"If the Citadel is to be believed than neither should be possible," Cayle noted with a scoff.
Aemon arched his brow at that, wondering if maybe Cayle had been sent here for his doubts in their order. With Alyn and the others returning south and Benjen set to join the great ranging, Aemon would need another willing to help him care for the dragon. Perhaps Cayle's change had already come with the wights, leaving Aemon with an ally instead of just a replacement.