Entering the Lord's solar of Winterfell, Ned took a seat and motioned for Barristan to take a seat.
"I prefer to stand."
Barristan couldn't be sure. Ned could be desperate to keep this secret and try something foolish. It was why he approached him after their arrival so no one would question him wearing his armor.
"What did you wish to speak of, Ser Barristan?"
"Your nephew."
Ned's brow sank as he stared at Barristan. "What?"
"Rhaegar's son."
Ned stared at the old knight for a moment, silent and afraid. Had Robert sent him? Had he ordered Barristan here to keep Ned away from his family? His family could be having their heads smashed against walls while Barristan held him here. He couldn't beat Barristan, but that hadn't stopped him fighting Arthur Dayne either.
"If he harms my family-"
"I serve the king," said Barristan, his somber blue eyes meeting Ned's as he said, "even if he is my squire."
Ned's fear began to give way to confusion. His fingers dug into the arms of his chair. "What do you know?"
"I know Rhaegar would never have taken Lyanna against her will," Barristan stepped forward. "I know that when I look upon Jon I see a pieces of another man I watched grow. A man who should have been king."
"Then you know nothing."
"Yet I suspect you didn't find her dead when you arrived. You found her with a babe in her arms, one she could not raise herself so you did it for her, calling him your bastard to spare him what his true siblings faced."
"My children are his true siblings!" Ned said in a shouted whisper as he rose from his chair.
"They are his cousins," Barristan said, maintaining his calm.
Ned's eyes darkened as he said firmly with emotion shaking his voice, "Jon Snow is my son."
Shaking his head, Barristan answered simply, "Jon is a dragon."
Ned felt shaken. Jon wasn't his son, he never had been, but he had cared for the boy. Part of him wished he had been his, things might have been easier if he were. "You can't tell anyone."
"I will."
"If Robert finds out-"
"Jon must know."
Ned stopped his step forward, having not expected that. "No."
"He will know," said Barristan, his gaze making it clear it was not a choice of if he would, only how.
Ned found himself sinking back into his chair shaking his head. "What good would come of it?"
Barristan looked at Eddard Stark in that moment and found himself disappointed. "I thought you honorable." The comment made Ned sit up, a flash of anger flickering in his eyes. "You would let this boy you claim to love as your own live a lie? To be bound and stained by a fiction you made for him? A fiction that drove him from this very place he thought his home because he believed himself nothing more than your bastard, when he may well be a bastard prince."
Ned's jaw shifted, clearly angered, but looked down, unable to deny it. "He's not a bastard."
Barristan frowned, surprised he could dislike Ned more than he had a moment earlier. "He is chained to choices he had no part in. If you cared for him you would make sure he knows the truth. Or are you terrified of the choice he may force you to make if he decides to take what Robert stole from him? A choice you would never question if you truly cared for him as a son."
Ned wanted to strike the man, but it wasn't his sword or armor that kept Ned in his chair. Could he truly let Jon go his entire life without knowing as he'd intended? If he'd gone to the Wall he considered telling him after he'd taken his oaths, but now that he had a life in the south he'd considered letting him build his own house. Ned would damn his entire line to a lie, for what? Did he think Jon would run around telling everyone the truth, or come at Robert with a dagger?
Defeated, Ned said only, "I'll tell him."
There were times in King's Landing where Jon felt like he wasn't a bastard, just some spare son to a lord. His friends were sons of lords, he was squired to one of the best knights in the realm, he even felt a friend to the princess and the youngest prince. Yet there he sat at the low table, finding himself in his cups as as he watched the Starks escort the Baratheons to the high table. He even found himself once again feeling a flicker of jealousy when he watched Robb walk with Myrcella. If he chose to court her he could. If it had been him with Barristan she would smile at Robb instead of looking to Jon with a solemn smile on her lips as she took her seat.
Half a knight and forever a bastard, Jon thought with a morose laugh as he finished off his cup. He looked to Dom and Sam sat opposite him and pressed his hand to his cheek. "When I'm knighted, what will become of us?"
Both men looked up, surprised by the sudden question. They looked to each other before Domeric asked, "What do you mean?"
"If I'm knighted… Do you think I should stay in King's Landing?"
Domeric thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No."
Sam frowned. "What of Loras?"
Jon smiled sadly. "He'll stay with his lord, surely."
"Would you return to the Dreadfort?" Sam asked Domeric.
Domeric glanced down at his mug before nodding. "Perhaps. If there was nothing else for me."
Sam chuckled. "We could travel."
"See the world as brothers in arms?" asked Jon.
Domeric smiled at that. "We could take to the road righting wrongs as knights of justice, or sail to Essos and find wives to sooth our souls."
"A bit young for a wife yet aren't you?" A familiar voice asked.
They turned to find Benjen Stark stood beside them with a smile, Jon quickly rising to hug the man. Jon introduced his friends, finding amusement in Benjen's surprise as Domeric's presence. The Boltons were old rivals of the Starks. Others might have found it an insult to be sat with servants and surrounded by mutts, but Dom preferred to be sat with his friends than given a false seat near the high table.
"Ned's told me you've been in King's Landing," Benjen said looking to Jon with a smile. "I still remember the first time I saw you, and now here you are squire to Barristan the Bold, spending half your days guarding the king and his family so I hear. Though I wonder if you've given up on the Night's Watch to become a knight."
"For now at least," Jon offered.
"Was it just the knighthood, or is there a girl that's caught your eye?" Seeing Jon's companions share a smirk while Jon frowned, Benjen chuckled. "A girl then. Who is she? A serving girl? Some handmaiden?"
Jon glanced at the high table before his eyes darkened and he looked down. Arching his brow, Benjen glanced at Dom and Sam and saw them glance there as well, so looked and found Robb smiling as Myrcella held her hand over her mouth and laughed.
Benjen's face sank as he looked to Jon, squeezing the boy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jon."
"It doesn't matter," Jon shrugged.
"Well whatever you choose, know the Night's Watch will always be there if you decide to join us, but for now try to find happiness." Benjen offered a light laugh of encouragement. "Honor and sacrifice can come in time. For now live, enjoy yourself, father a bastard or two!"
"I will never father a bastard," Jon said, trembling as his venom soured his words. "Never!"
It seemed as if the table had fallen silent, and he even noticed a few eyes on him from the high table.
"I must be excused," he said rising to his feet and pushing past Benjen. He dodged a serving girl as he left, feeling tears sting his eyes but holding them back as he stormed toward the yard.
He found himself heading directly toward one of the straw men which he knocked over with a fist to the side of his head. Looking upon his fallen prey he felt more pathetic than he ever had.
Myrcella had been nice enough to him early on, but as he learned more of how things worked in the Red Keep he found himself thinking on her more and becoming friendly despite being expected to be another guard, Barristan's shadow. He'd felt sorry for her at first, but soon found most of her tragedies had been blessings. Perhaps if she wasn't ignored by her parents they would have twisted her into a hideous thing like Joffrey. She hadn't faced much of the pressure which seemed to drive Sansa into her obsessive need to be a lady, but found it naturally instead. Without Cersei keeping Tyrion away he often found his way to Myrcella, sharing his love for books. Jon wondered if she may be the brightest of the royal family, certainly more so than the drunkard king, the cruel prince or even her rotten mother.
Early on Jon had spoken to a serving girl who met him once while bringing food to the king. She would spot him sometimes in the yard and flash him small smiles. It was during Joffrey's nameday feast during Jon's first year in King's Landing that the girl asked him to dance and when they were finished had kissed him on the cheek and run off giggling. Jon had been shocked, but was left smiling through the night.
The next day when he saw her and waved, the girl's eyes widened in panic and she lowered her head, rushing off as if afraid of him. He had been confused, but that grew when he noticed most of the staff began doing the same. The few who had been friendly with him before then had taken to ignoring him while the rest were brisk at best. Whenever he saw that serving girl she would look away from him, even ignoring the one time he dared to try calling her name.
It wasn't until months later he told Jaime of her. "I thought she liked me," Jon said with a morose laugh, "but I suppose bastards are too low even for serving girls."
Jaime had frowned as Jon shook his head, putting their swords away. Behind him Jaime had sighed and whispered, "Damn it, Cersei."
It hadn't taken Jon long to realize she had poisoned them against him. Her small smiles whenever she noticed a server ignore Jon's requests suddenly making sense. Part of him wondered if that was what spawned his interest in Myrcella. What better way to get revenge for her making sure he wouldn't find companionship in the keep than to find it with her daughter? But it had started before that, sparked by the time he gave her the winter roses, maybe earlier.
At first it had been simple. Jon just liked being around her, finding she was willing to discuss anything, even asking after the gods he kept. She had been the one to give him the little he knew of the Seven, but she'd also asked after Winterfell, the North, his family, even his swordplay so she might have a better understanding of what she saw in the yard. He'd always enjoyed hearing her describe a book she'd read, a story she'd heard, her knowledge of flora and her visits to other keeps with her family.
However one day he found himself imagining kissing her, and realized her lips looked fuller than they had been. That had lead him to notice her face didn't seem as round as it had before, yet still looked soft, just more refined. Even the curls of her hair had softened some as it grew, hanging past her shoulders. She'd grown taller as well, going from near his chest to his shoulder. Maybe Jon's dislike of Cersei painted it, but it felt at times as if she was leeching the beauty of her mother.
Those changes had continued and it felt as if she would soon leave Cersei a hideous crone to match her heart. Her emerald eyes seemed to glow in the light of the Great Hall as her smile touched them, the curve of her lips playful and warm. It hurt seeing her sat beside Robb who seemed to easily make her laugh in a way that seemed so rare for Jon, yet every one had always left him proud when he'd earned it.
In that moment Jon wanted to be the bastard they all feared. To grab the princess and take her for himself, to run and find a new life in Essos. Let him find them a place in the Basilisk Isles. Jon was already used to living among venomous beasts after three years in King's Landing.
But he couldn't. Not because of what others might think, but because Myrcella didn't deserve that. He could love her and he felt sure he could make her love him, there was no doubt both had felt the same stir in their hearts when their eyes met. No, it was the kind of life they'd find that she didn't deserve.
Love didn't grant happiness. More often it was the opposite in tales he heard. Love wouldn't feed them, that would come from a life of hard work, and though he would gladly spend his days working a field or even as a sellsword, Myrcella deserved to be a princess. Hells, she deserved to be queen. She deserved to have fine clothing, scented baths and jewelry worth more than anything he'd ever owned. She deserved better than Jon could ever give her, and that was what stopped him more often than not.
With a bitter laugh he shook his head, deciding then he would stop. Jon would stop fooling himself. He would return to King's Landing and finish squiring for Barristan and then he would leave. Let him think back fondly on his friendship with the princess and forget he was ever fool enough to want for more.
Domeric would return to the Dreadfort and find his own bastard brother and embrace him with open arms. When their father passed Domeric would find his brother a place within the keep and make sure he was respected. People would look upon Domeric and see beyond the stories told to frighten others and see the kind lord he was.
Loras would gain fame with every tourney he won, being renown as a true knight that all women desired but was too chivalrous to dishonor them. Instead he would find his happiness in secret with his liege lord. Loras would even help Samwell find his footing and as he was no longer bound by his father's will or his family, he would look to earn his chains in Oldtown or explore and study the world. If his father had a heart he would be shamed by what his son would become, but more likely the man would claim some part of whatever glory he found yet still ignore him.
Myrcella would be sent to live with some lord worthy of her. She would meet him and find him more handsome that the bastard squire she'd been close with in her youth. She would come to love her betrothed and happily take to bed with him and give him children. Whenever she attended a tourney with them she would see Loras, Domeric or Jon and laugh at her stupidity for every thinking herself interested in him. She would laugh at her naivety and hold her husband's hand and think of her happiness with him.
Robb would inherit Winterfell and marry some beautiful lady who would bear him strong children. Sansa would go off to marry some lord and become the lady she always dreamed of and make herself think it something out of a song. Arya would find someone who appreciated her wild spirit and the beauty she held despite her sister's denial of it's existence. Bran would be a knight of renown after squiring to some of the best in the realm, while Rickon would find himself adored by the North as he grew into a warrior.
Jon would be left alone to wander. He would ride in tourneys and do well enough to find a decent brothel and buy company to help him forget. Once he found he could no longer live off tourney gold he would sail to Essos and sell his sword for a time, making his way across the country and finding whatever joy he could in the moment, whether it be in seeing something he never could in Westeros, in the arms of a woman or with a blade in his hand. He would ride and fight and fuck until he stopped caring and then he would go to the Wall and say it was honor that guided him there in the end.
He'd always striven to be as honorable as possible, the opposite of what was suspected of him. When he was younger he'd think he wanted to be as honorable as his father, but time and distance had made him doubt any of it true. For all he knew it was the naivety of a child that made him think the man honorable. He'd fathered Jon after all, and never spoke of his mother. What honor was there in not telling Jon if she was alive or dead? No, Ned was clearly afraid of the shadow of his mother, and all he ever did was run from her and ignore her. Jon was more like to call Ned craven.
At least he could understand why Sam held so much fear after the things his father did to him, but even if his mother was awful Jon should know.
Gods, near every day in King's Landing he hoped word would find her. He dreamed of walking through Flea Bottom when a voice called to him and a woman would smile at him the way only a mother could, and she would tell him that she'd missed him every day as much as he'd missed her. If she was high born he could swear to her house and be near her, but if she was a peasant then he could help her, he could win tourneys and have her live on land he would earn. He could introduce her to his friends, to his half-siblings, he could make sure she was safe and happy. And every day he thought of that and went to sleep without her finding him he was never certain if it would be worse to find she was dead or that she hated him as well. That he was just as much her shame as he was Lord Stark's. That he was something she would rather forget, or had given him up because she'd rather he died than suffer him.
"Jon!"
He stumbled back as Domeric pulled him off the straw dummy, it's head collapsed into a hole in the ground, Jon's knuckles red from where they had beaten the earth. His cheeks burned and his chest stung as he wondered when he'd started hitting it. His breaths were heavy, suddenly finding himself awash with fading anger.
"Are you okay?" Samwell asked, frowning as he looked to Jon's hand.
Taking a breath Jon nodded, sniffing and wiping at his cheek, angered anew that they had seen that, that he'd done that.
Domeric stood the dummy back up and turned to Jon with a sigh. "I shouldn't have let you drink so much."
"I'm not your squire," Jon snapped. He sighed then. "Sorry."
"It's fine," Domeric said shaking his head.
"I'm sure it's just a lot to take in coming back here after so long," Sam offered with a smile.
Jon shook his head, looking between the two. "When this ends I'm going to end up alone in the world."
"Jon!" They all turned to find Theon called out to him from meters away. "Lord Stark wishes to see you in his solar."
Jon sighed, looking to his friends. "I'm sorry."
"There may be times where you are on your own," Domeric said firmly as he met Jon's eyes, "but you will never be without friends. Without brothers."
Sam nodded. "I'll never be as brave or strong as any of you but I would gladly give all I had for either of you or Loras. You need only ask and I would follow you as best I can." Sam let out a sheepish laugh as he looked to them both. "I thought I would be alone, mocked and insulted, yet found instead men I consider brothers."
Jon nodded. They all shared a smile before Jon turned and made his way to his father's solar. Whatever came, at least he might face it with brothers of choice at his side.