"You sure about this?" Sam asked with a glance back to Winterfell on the horizon behind them.
"I have to do this," Jon said facing ahead.
Domeric saw his dark eyes had hardened like steel quenched in determination. "Why the Wall?"
Jon looked to them both before answering simply, "My great uncle is there and I plan to meet the man."
"Your great uncle?" Sam asked tilting his head.
Jon nodded. "Aemon Targaryen."
Both of their eyes widened as Domeric sat forward slightly. "Your mother was a-"
"Lyanna Stark," Jon answered.
Domeric, having thought perhaps some forgotten Targaryen cousin or bastard, found himself gasping. "Then would your father be Rhaegar?" Seeing Jon nod, he thought back on all the awful stories he'd heard of her abduction and frowned. "Jon, I'm so sorry."
Glancing at him, Jon shook his head. "He didn't take her. They were married on the Isle of Faces."
"But he already had a wife," Sam pointed out.
"Not like they never took multiple wives," Domeric offered with a laugh. "Though I imagine your uncle may have some answers."
"How'd you find this out?" asked Sam.
"My-" Jon paused before continuing, "Lord Stark told me. My uncle Benjen was witness to their wedding, and Lord Stark brought me back from the Tower of Joy in Dorne. Me… and these," Jon said bringing his bag forward and opening it.
They moved their horses closer as Jon pulled the scarlet dragon egg from it just enough for them to see. Sam gasped. "Is that-"
"A dragon egg?" asked Dom. "How?"
"It was left for me by Rhaegar."
"They used to place eggs in the cradles of their newborns," Domeric remarked. "I bet that was meant to go in yours."
"Instead it sat in the dark for years." Jon frowned, setting it back inside. "Alongside Dark Sister."
Their eyes widened again as he pulled the longsword from the bag. Sam gawked at the sword while Dom's eyes darkened. "Jon you can't let people see that." He looked from the sheathed sword to Jon. "They'll wonder how you got a valyrian steel sword. It will cause too many questions."
"I know," Jon nodded, setting it back beneath the cloak. "I brought these to prove to Aemon who I am. The sword should've been with Bloodraven, and apparently Rhaegar got it from Aemon before leaving it for my mother."
"Why keep it quiet?" asked Sam. "Surely they would have told everyone."
"Why bother?" asked Domeric. "What good would come from telling others, of telling his maddened father? They weren't at war before so he had no reason to use it, assuming he even had it then. All we know is he had it at the end and gave it to his wife."
"She was a fighter," Jon said looking to Dom. "She had wolf blood, like Arya. He thought her capable, but then a fever took her."
"Do you think he knew?" Sam asked somberly. "That he would die."
"Targaryens have been known to have dreams of prophecy," noted Domeric. "Maybe he had his own, or simply wanted to know his wife had it in case he did die." Watching Jon close the satchel he asked, "If that's what you took, does that make the rest you mentioned the Iron Throne?"
Sam looked panicked as Jon nodded. "You've been there long enough. You've see what they're like. Myrcella and Tommen are fine, but they're not in control. Robert's decent enough most of the time, but do either of you truly think him a good king? And what of Joffrey when he follows his father?"
"Jon, what you're talking about…" Sam frowned.
Jon thought of the times he'd seen Joffrey torturing Tommen while Barristan kept him from doing anything. It was their place to guard the royal family from others, not from each other. He'd hated Barristan in those moment, but knew he was right. As much as he wanted to run Joffrey through he had to find other ways. When Joffrey held the boy's arms around his neck so he could barely breath Jon made himself stumble, slamming his head into the floor and groaning in pain, drawing the prince's laughter while he released Tommen to gasp for breath. Watching Joffrey walk off after that, holding Tommen as he cried, hearing him tell the tale of his pet fawn Joffrey had skinned, Jon wanted nothing more than to make Joffrey suffer. After that he did what he could to find other ways to distract the prince to spare his siblings from torment.
He couldn't let someone like that rule the realm. It was doubtless he would be Aerys II or Maegor the Cruel come again.
Domeric thought as he asked, "Are you certain you want this?"
"No," Jon shook his head. "I wouldn't risk lives for that. I don't want to rule. I'd be happy with lands of my own, just enough to live in peace and maybe make a house of my own. It's not as if I want the responsibility of the throne, but I can't sit by and let the Baratheons ruin the realm. If I took it at least I could try to make things better, make a better council to guide me and the realm. If I can do this to stop them from sinking us all but don't then it would be just as much my fault when we go to ruin."
Sam looked to Jon and saw he was being honest. He wasn't contemplating this because he coveted the crown. He looked almost mournful as spoke of himself upon the throne and his need to try for it. "It won't be easy."
"I know," said Jon. "We'd have to do it slowly. Carefully. We'd have to work in the shadow of vipers. We'd have to drift through poison to find a path. But if we must, I've no doubt we will find it."
"What of Loras?" asked Sam, who frowned. "He is… close to Lord Renly."
Domeric nodded somberly. "Though I'd consider him one of us, love has driven plenty of brothers to take up arms against one another. It might be best to keep this from him until we have a better idea of what we'll do, how we can spare Renly."
Jon sighed. "I know. I don't like it, but we can't risk him telling Renly. Surely his loyalty to his brother outweighs any for Loras' friends."
By the time they stopped for the night Jon was waiting to hear riders approaching to come retrieve them. Instead it was the soft patter of a wolf that drew their attention. The pale eyed gray wolf stood a few feet away from the trio of men, Domeric's hand on the hilt of his sword while Jon and Sam reached for their daggers.
Jon's eyes shifted from the pale amber eyes of the wolf to another set behind it. Deep crimson eyes caught the flicker of firelight, seeming to glow as another approached silently, it's fur pure white, nearly a third the size of the she wolf.
Releasing his dagger, Jon held a hand out toward the others as his gaze lingered on the white wolf. "Wait."
They looked to Jon as a raven cawed and he tore a piece of mutton he'd been eating and held the chunks out. The wolves approached and took the meat from his hands. Jon watched them, noticing the white wolf kept looking at him as it ate. To their surprise the she wolf finished her meat and turned to lay by the fire. The white wolf glanced at her before turning and laying near her.
Sam stared at the creatures in fear while Domeric looked curious. "Are they planning to lay in wait and devour us in our sleep?" Domeric asked with a laugh.
The wolves remained there as they settled in for the night. They contemplated taking watches, but took what rest they could to ride hard the next day. When they heard the shift of grass and snow all three found themselves roused from their slumber, but none moved. Instead they watched as the she wolf rose and walked into the woods. Jon furrowed his brow, looking from the wolf to the sleeping white wolf which had silently moved to lay beside him and was deep asleep.
When morning came Jon found the white wolf looking out into the woods silently before turning and making his way to him, pressing his snout to Jon's hand. Reaching up he rubbed the wolf's head.
"Your mother left you as well, hm?" Jon asked with a somber smile. "You can come with us, but you'll need a name." The wolf rolled in the snow, staring as Jon, reminding him of the time he'd covered himself in flower and hid in the crypts. "How about Ghost?" The pup tugged Jon's hand back and forth playfully, making him chuckle. "Ghost it is."
Few seemed to notice their departure until Arya asked to speak with her father after he broke fast. For a moment he'd considered sending men to fetch Jon, but no good would come of it. Jon clearly wasn't willing to sit and obey, not any longer.
When Barristan found out he was ready to ride out himself and bring the boy back, but knew that would only bring questions, so he covered for him. When anyone asked after him he'd say he let the boy visit the Wall since Jon intended to go there before he ever came to King's Landing.
"He's left?" Myrcella asked with a frown.
"I'm sorry, princess," said Barristan. "I'm sure he'll return in time and meet us on the road."
She'd looked forward to seeing his home but it seemed less interesting without him there to show her it all. Still, she tried enjoyed her time there as much as she could.
"It's beautiful," she said walking through the glass garden filled with fruits, vegetables and flowers. Her garden was partially enclosed, but the structure was small, built only to house her flowers where the glass garden was meant to house food enough for the castle.
Walking alongside the princess, Sansa saw her eyes brighten and her smile grow when she spotted the winter roses. Putting on a smile she walked to them. "These are winter roses, your grace."
"Oh, I know," Myrcella said looking to Sansa as she brushed her fingers across the petals of one. "I have a bush in my garden at the Red Keep."
"You do?" Sansa asked blinking. "I thought they only grew in the North."
"I was gifted a bush by your brother."
Sansa tilted her head. "Robb?"
"Jon," Myrcella said turning to Sansa. "He gave me a potted bush for my nameday."
Sansa blinked at that. Thinking back she remembered Robb and Theon laughing that Jon had asked for roses to remember Winterfell. Had he lied to them? Why would he-Oh. She bit at her lip to keep her smile from growing too large. Oh, poor Jon.
Seeing Robb escort Myrcella to another dinner, Sansa found him the next day and took him aside. "Brother," she called to him, making him turn and excuse himself to come closer. "Do you remember when Jon asked you for the winter roses?"
Robb furrowed his brow. "Aye, I do. That was years back now."
"Did he tell you what they were for?"
"He said he missed home." Robb shrugged.
"I think that a lie," said Sansa.
"Why?"
"Because it seems once he received them he gifted them to Princess Myrcella."
Robb laughed. "What?"
"She told me in the glass gardens," she explained. "It was when he was injured. He was at the docks to get them when a man killed a gate captain and he tried to stop the murderer. Afterward he gave her the roses. He's even taken to helping her in her garden."
"Jon?" Robb laughed. "Jon Snow? Our brother?"
Sansa giggled. "Robb, she says not only does he spend his nights reading, but is learning to play the harp!"
Robb scoffed. "You can't be serious."
"I swear, it's what she said."
"Does he sing as well?"
"She couldn't say," Sansa snickered. "She said she only knows he plays the harp because she's seen Ser Domeric giving him lessons."
Robb's smirk fell slightly as he thought on it. "Gods, what else don't we know?"
"I think he fancies the princess," Sansa said with a laugh. "Why else would he give her the roses?"
Robb glanced toward the keep. "You've seen them. Maybe he felt bad for her."
"Bad for what?" Sansa scoffed. "She's a princess."
Robb frowned. "And Joffrey's a prince, but if half of what Jon's told us is true then he's still a sadistic prick." He wore a sneer as he scoffed, "And now father's sold you to the blonde shit."
"Robb," Sansa hissed. "He's just rough… Mother says boys grow out of things like that."
"None of us did things like Jon told us," said Robb. "Theon never did, I never did, Jon never did, Bran doesn't, Rickon never will. Even his own brother isn't like that."
Sansa groaned quietly, clutching the front of her skirt. "For all we know Jon's lied."
"Jon wouldn't lie," snapped Robb.
"He's already lied about the roses and his harp."
"That's different, you know that." Robb sighed. "He may have feared we would tease him and hoped to avoid it. Or perhaps he wanted to surprise us with his harp one day."
"Still," Sansa said indignantly, "Joffrey's been so kind. A perfect prince. Maybe Jon's just jealous of him like he was you."
Robb frowned, disappointed in his sister's doubt of their brother. He could almost see their mother whispering in her ear, telling her Jon wrote to Sansa with a bastard's jealousy guiding his quill. "Just be careful, Sansa. If he does anything, tell us. Jon will be there with you, he can protect you."
It didn't take long for Arya to overhear Sansa gossiping with Jeyne Poole. Afterward she rushed off to meet with Robb and ask if he knew of Jon's crush. When he said he'd sent the flowers, Arya found herself watching Myrcella. If Jon was interested in her, then she must be interesting, yet Arya thought she seemed much like Sansa, though not as bad. She was nice at least.
"Princess," Arya said one day when she found the girl heading toward the library. When the blonde princess stopped and turned to her she said, "I'd heard you were friends with my brother Jon. Is that true?"
"It is. I call him friend. Him and his companions." Myrcella smiled, suddenly moving closer. "Jon spoke of you often."
"He did?" Arya blinked.
Myrcella nodded. "He spoke of your wild heart. That you were as brave as you were clever." She chuckled. "He even said he-" She gasped and winced.
Arya arched her brow, thinking on it before looking to her in shock. "He told you about the sword?"
Myrcella smiled in relief. "He gave it to you already? Thank the Seven. I feared I ruined the surprise." Seeing Arya's surprise she chuckled and said conspiratorially, "Fear not, I won't speak a word of it."
After that Myrcella found herself enjoying things a bit more as Arya took to showing her around, telling her stories of Jon before he came to King's Landing. She shared her own tales of Jon. Arya was shocked to hear that not only had he taken to reading half the books at the Red Keep but he had been learning to play the harp. She was glad to hear he was as skilled as she'd hoped in the yard if Myrcella's praise was true.
Myrcella found her time with Jon of interest to Robb and even Bran, who asked of Ser Loras as well, admitting Jon said he might ask the Knight of Flowers to take him as squire. She found herself having budding friendships with all the Stark children, enjoying her time at Winterfell more with every day. At least until Bran fell.
Even with the bitter winds growing colder every day, seeing the Wall break the horizon was a relief. Approaching Castle Black Jon couldn't help but compare the place he'd once hoped to spend the rest of his days to the Red Keep. Though the Wall was the grandest thing he'd ever seen, the castle wasn't. It felt run down, near abandoned but for the people calling out to raise the gates.
A glance down showed that the wolf, Ghost, was still following them as it had since his mother left him with Jon. Every night the wolf had taken to sleeping beside Jon, who made sure it was fed. Jon found himself wondering if it might be a direwolf as he rubbed it's head at night sometimes. It still had a pup's look despite being a third the size of it's mother, and he could scarcely imagine a poor wolf mating with a massive direwolf to make some half breed. With no way he could think to know, he decided instead to wait and see if it grew as big as the Starks' wolves.
Making their way through the gate they were met by brothers of the Night's Watch and after introducing themselves were taken to meet with the Lord Commander, Jeor Mormont. Jon took the reins for their introduction.
"This is Samwell Tarly and Ser Domeric Bolton, heir to the Dreadfort," Jon said before motioning to himself. "I am Jon Snow, son of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. We rode north with the king's procession and thought to come see the Wall for ourselves and perhaps speak to the king of it."
"And the king will listen to a bastard?" said the broad older man, motioning for them to take seats.
"He's shown me favor in the past," Jon nodded, having prepared for this with Dom and Sam since they took to the road. "I think I have a better chance of getting word to him than any letters. I could speak to him or at least those I know at court such as Ser Barristan Selmy, to whom I squire, or Ser Loras Tyrell who could speak to Lord Renly Baratheon. If nothing else I could speak to my father, ask him to speak to the king as well. Perhaps then he could help make the Night's Watch the order I spent much of my childhood wanting to join."
Jeor looked at the squire before him. "Benjen's mentioned you wanting to join us."
That surprised Jon. "He has?"
Jeor chuckled gruffly. "Said it was our loss the moment your father sent you south. He claimed you would have been the best of us if you'd come."
"I'm sure he was in his cups," Jon said humbly, "but I'm glad he thinks so much of me."
Jeor nodded, rubbing his beard. "You truly think you could get word to the king on our behalf?"
"I'd like to spend some time here and look around as much as I can." Jon hoped it seemed natural he would say, "I'd like to meet your Maester and learn about Castle Black and the Wall, to have as much information as I can before I ride back south."
Jeor nodded. "I'll have a steward bring you to him and prepare rooms for you."
They left and Domeric and Sam excused themselves to bring their things to their rooms, leaving Jon to meet the master on his own. He flashed them a quick, thankful smile before following the steward with Ghost following behind him. Clutching the satchel on his hip, Jon felt the weight of the egg and sword and hoped Aemon would be as glad to meet him as he was to find another uncle.