"We should not be here," Jon whispered.
Loras rolled his eyes. "Are you the Lord of this keep or not?" he asked, and Jon could not help but regret having told his friend of his uncles' designation. He cared deeply for his goodbrother and the man who had become probably his very best friend in the world, but Loras had a way of talking him into doing things he usually would not do. Loras also had an insatiable curiosity and thirst for gossip Jon was not sure he could have understood if he had tried. He only knew that Loras' need to know absolutely everything that went on around him was why he found himself heading towards his Uncle Benjen and Aunt Dacey's solar, readying himself for eavesdropping on his uncles' conversation.
Jon gritted his teeth. Honestly, he would much rather be in Margaery's chambers right now, mapping out the recent changes to her body. The new sensitivity in her teats had kept them both entertained and more than satisfied for a few nights now, and her condition, surprisingly, seemed to make her appetites actually surpass his own. He nearly flushed to even think those thoughts when he was crouched right next to her brother, but he also knew that not only would Loras mock him mercilessly if he got to know something important before Jon, but Margaery herself would not forgive him for letting some important piece of information, which there was some small chance this might be, pass underneath his nose.
Loras opened his mouth, undoubtedly meaning to say something else, but before he could, conversation started up within the solar, rendering them both silent.
"Do you honestly think I do not know what that sword is?" Uncle Benjen asked. "Nothing makes its way into Dragonstone without Dacey or I knowing." He paused a moment, then, "I know what's beneath that cheap leather binding, and you do too. Who sent it?"
"My brother did," Uncle Arthur said, voice even and calm as always. The only time Jon could remember Uncle Arthur's voice rising was that once when Robb tried to ride a horse too wild for him and Jon had to run them down. Arthur had shouted at him for hours about how risking his own life was not worth it for anything. Jon had not realised that Lord Aron Dayne might agree, might care one way or the other. Aron Dayne was the one uncle who had never so much as spared him a word, by raven or otherwise. Even Lord Beric Dondarrion, who had not yet wed his Aunt Allyria, who Jon had also never met, had come to his wedding. Why did Arthur and Benjen suddenly think that might have changed?
"Ser Oswell Whent sent Ned Stark's bastard son a legendary blade made from Valyrian steel?" Uncle Benjen asked.
Jon started. Oswell Whent had sent the sword? Why would he? Yes, he and Uncle Arthur had been sworn brothers once, but why would Ser Oswell send Arthur Dayne's bastard nephew a priceless blade? His own blood still lived on. If Jon remembered correctly, he was related to Lady Catelyn somehow. This should have been Lord Edmure's blade, then, or Robb's. So why had Jon been the one to receive it?
"It is his by right," Uncle Arthur said.
Uncle Benjen snorted. "Speak truth to me for once, Dayne," he said. "Why have you stuck by Jon's side all these years? You have a brother and a sister and a trueborn nephew in Dorne.
Am I really supposed to believe you simply loved your closest sister enough to give all that up? Am I supposed to believe you ever truly abandoned the Kingsguard when you just put Blackfyre itself into my nephew's hands?"
Jon's mind reeled. He wished to the Gods he had thought to keep the sword on him. But then he would have been tempted to tear off the leather bindings here and now to find out what lay beneath, and the noise would have certainly given him away. He needed to hear the rest of this conversation. He could not say why, but he knew he did, more desperately than he had ever needed any truth in his life.
"I always knew he was not Ned's son," Uncle Benjen continued. "It is subtle," he added, "How he has my mother's looks while Ned and Arya both have my father's. They're lighter of hair and darker of skin, yet all of them have the Stark look. No one would think to question it. It is subtle enough; my parents were cousins, after all. Yet Ned is the only one of my siblings with that colouring. I always noticed, but I did not think it mattered. I thought he was Brandon's, sired on your sister, and that Ned claimed him so he would be less of a threat to Robb. I did not care; it made him no less my nephew. But that is not true, is it? All along, you have served the man who deceived her and incited a war as his madness grew."
"I served Rhaegar," Uncle Arthur said. "Then I protected your sister, in the hopes that she would bear a King. And then I guarded your nephew. Because of my vows. Because I promised her. And then because I grew to love that boy more deeply than subjects usually get to love their king." He paused for a moment, but Jon could not process his words, could not even begin to comprehend what was being said.
Wake up, his mind whipered.