Uncle Arthur's eyes turned sad for a moment, and a succession of expressions Jon could not even begin to understand seemed to pass over his face. At long last, he reached out and gripped Jon by the back of his neck, pulled him close enough that they were eye to eye. Jon did not have very far to look up anymore, he suddenly realised. "Any child would be luckier than they know to call you their Lord Father," Uncle Arthur said, and another burst of confidence came in to bolster Jon up where he might have failed on his own. "You listen to me now, boy," he continued. "You are the best of both your Houses.
You are greater than the sum of your parts, greater than anyone could have foreseen. You are one of the best men I have known and the greatest lord I have served." His hand slid into Jon's hair, and Jon's forehead was resting against his uncle's jaw. The whole encounter was so charged it hurt in a way Jon could not even explain. All he knew was that he could not bear the thought of letting Arthur Dayne down. As much as he did not believe those words to be true, he would have to make them so. "You will love that child as fiercely as a wolf loves its cub, protect it just as strongly. And you are strong enough to live for him rather than die for him. He will never think to ask for a better father."
Jon swallowed, remembering the number of former sworn Lords who had died on his uncle's watch rather than see their duties through. Jon would not, would never, be one of them. He swore it. He had smallfolk depending on him. He had lords sworn to him, also depending on him. He had a father he would make proud if he could. More than anything, he had a Lady Wife and a child to be. Jon would be what his uncle believed him to be, even if it took everything he had within him. And he might not be very old, but he had lived long enough to know that sometimes it required more strength, more courage, to live than to die. He hoped he would never have to make that choice.
He wrapped his arms around his uncle in a quick, brief hug before stepping back, somehow managing to hold onto a trembling smile. And then, before he could say anything in response, the door opened and his Uncle Benjen stepped inside. He eyed the sword, and Uncle Arthur, and Jon, back and forth over and over again. Jon did not think he could have read Benjen's expression for all the gold in the known world. "Ser Dayne," Uncle Benjen said. "I would have words with you. Alone."
Uncle Arthur's expression revealed nothing. He gave Uncle Benjen a pleasant smile. "After the evening meal," he promised. "I believe our nephew would like to try out his new blade."
Uncle Benjen's lip curled into something that almost seemed to resemble a snarl. "After the evening meal," he agreed.