Morning came and Jon made his way to White Sword Tower to help Barristan prepare for his duties now they were back in King's Landing. When he found the squire ready to help him, Barristan laughed.
"It feels odd," Barristan said watching Jon secure Barristan's cuirass over his enameled scale shirt.
"The last Egg was a squire for his Lord Commander before he took the throne," Jon noted with a smile. Aemon had told him a tale or two of Aegon the Unlikely, along with tales of near every other Aegon, whether they took the throne or might have.
"That he was," Barristan nodded. "Does that mean you intend to try?"
"I do," said Jon, walking over to get more of his armor. Once he returned he met Barristan's eyes. "Joffrey would ruin the realm. I have to try, else it is as much my fault as every man who doesn't run him through."
Barristan tilted his head at that. "Even I?"
Jon had secured one pauldron when he stepped back in thought. After a moment he nodded, moving to the other side. "Yes. Even you. I know it's your duty to protect the king, but you are still a man, are you not? No matter what you tell yourself, your vows don't make you a sword and shield made flesh, you are still a man living, and a knight. Even if it is against your duty, surely your honor demands you protect others. It may be one thing to ignore the suffering of one or few, but to ignore the suffering of hundreds or thousands or millions is too great. I can't do that."
Barristan stared at Jon, surprised. "You think me dishonorable?"
Jon smiled sadly. "I think you a devoted kingsguard. You've served many a king, but how many have been of your choice? How many have been good? How many have been worthy of you?"
Watching Jon carefully secure his armor, Barristan answered, "Two."
"You were made kingsguard by Jaehaerys the second, weren't you?"
"I was," Barristan nodded. "Though his reign short he was a capable man who did what others had failed to due by ending the Blackfyre threat."
"But two?" Jon laughed. "Was Aerys truly good before he went mad?"
"He showed promise at first, claimed he wanted to be the greatest king in the history of the Seven Kingdoms," said Barristan, rising once his armor was set. Watching Jon go to retrieve his sword and buckler, he continued, "but I spoke of Aegon the sixth."
Jon turned back to him with a solemn smile, giving him a thankful nod before walking back with the sword belt. "He's not king yet, and not for some time most likely."
"How will it come to pass?"
"I don't know," Jon admitted. "Slowly is the only thing I'm certain of. My only ally is the Starks, who may bring others but I'm not certain. Domeric might bring the Boltons, but he's only the heir to the Dreadfort still and his father already dislikes his being here with me. I'll need to find more, convince them I'm worthy without them suspecting beforehand."
Tightening the belt around his waist, Barristan looked to Jon. "Then I think you should ride in the Hand's tourney."
Jon's brow rose. "There's another tourney already?"
"The king spoke of it. I don't know the details, but it will happen soon. If you want to garner some recognition, then you should ride again."
Jon thought on it for a moment. "Is that smart?"
"Show them your skill," said Barristan. "If you fall then show them you can get back up. Let them see you are a warrior, and if you gain some glory let those who come to seek it find out you are a good man as well."
Later that day he was called the Tower of the Hand to sup with the Starks, but found himself being led to the private audience chamber where Ned waited at a desk. He'd been here a time or two before to meet with Jon Arryn, though often the old Hand would speak with him in the yard or in his quarters.
"How was your first day at King's Landing?" Jon asked as he sat across from Ned once the steward left.
"It went as well as could be expected," Ned offered. "Last night Arya and Sansa had an argument."
"At least that's normal," Jon said with a laugh.
Ned frowned. "When I went to speak with Arya she seemed ready to sneak out holding a sword I didn't know she had. A sword I imagine you gifted her." Since he seemed to not know for sure, meaning Arya hadn't said as much, Jon shook his head. Ned sighed, sitting back. "It had a maker's mark I was unfamiliar with. I'd know Mikken's mark, and it's a sword fine enough that it was surely expensive. How much did it cost?"
Jon's jaw shifted slightly before answering, "Less than Arya's happiness is worth."
Ned nodded solemnly. "I agree. That's why I've looked into hiring her an instructor." He snickered at Jon's surprise. "That's a bravos blade, right? It seems the former First Sword of Braavos is in King's Landing. Hopefully I can get him to agree to meeting her."
Jon was relieved as he sat up nodding. "If he does he'll definitely want to train her. With how much she wants to learn no doubt she would be his favorite student."
Ned chuckled, sitting forward as he met Jon's gaze. "No more secrets, Jon. If we're going to make it through this then we need to work together. We need to share our plans."
Jon tilted his head slightly. "Do you think I have some kind of plan for Arya?"
"I don't know." Ned frowned at the brief shock on Jon's face, hurt by his father's doubt. "You're not as you were when I last knew you. You're a man now, or near enough that you're making difficult decisions no boy should make. I can't know if you have some plan for her. For all I know you planned to include her as you have Robb."
Jon looked down, nodding when he raised his head to look at Ned. "I do want to tell her."
"She's a child, Jon."
"Just because I want to do something doesn't mean I do it," Jon said pointedly. "I want to tell her but I won't." He wanted to though. While Sansa might find the distance a relief, if only for his no longer being a stain upon their family, Arya may well be angry at him for lying and push him away. At least that was the image his fear concocted.
"Good."
"I'm riding in your tourney."
Ned sat up. "What?"
"I'm going to ride as myself," said Jon.
Ned shook his head. "Why?"
"To win," Jon laughed. His smile faded as he explained, "To garner some favor and hopefully earn an ally or two. Or at least get a sense of people."
Ned nodded, holding his chin as he asked with a smirk. "You truly think you'll win?"
Jon shrugged. "I plan to try."
The next day Barristan was assigned to Myrcella in the afternoon, which meant Jon would be there as well. When they arrived at the library to take over for Ser Boros, Myrcella heard them and looked up to wave at Jon. Once she finished whatever she was reading, Jon noticed she placed it back in the section dedicated to books around the Dance of the Dragons.
Once she made her way to them she gave the kingsguard and squire a curtsy. "Ser Barristan, Ser Jon."
Jon sighed, but smiled. "Good afternoon, Princess."
"I heard you have a direwolf," Myrcella said solemnly. "Is it true father let you keep it?"
"His grace was gracious," Jon said, pride swelling within him as Myrcella giggled.
"Can I meet it?" asked Myrcella.
Jon glanced to Barristan, who seemed wary. "Are you certain princess?"
"I know Joffrey lied," Myrcella said with a frown. "I played with all of them at Winterfell and they were all gentle. Well, Shaggy was a bit rough but not enough to hurt."
Jon looked to her and nodded. "He is in my quarters. I don't think it would be proper to be seen there."
"Then I'll meet him tonight," she said firmly, "I will dress discreetly and make my way to the godswood. Ser Barristan can escort me himself, while you happen to be visiting with your direwolf."
"Ghost."
Myrcella blinked. "What?" For a moment she wondered if he was saying he was afraid of ghost, or that she should be.
"His name is Ghost."
That night she dressed in a simple, darker red dress and riding cloak with a hood she used to hide her golden locks. Ser Barristan had taken watch at the corner in case there was need of him, waiting for her door to open and follow her form a distance so as not to draw too much attention to her, yet still act as her guard.
Within the godswood Myrcella found the great oaken heart tree where Jon stood with a white wolf at his side. He was letting the wolf playfully tug his hand back and forth. She stood still for a moment, just watching him play with the wolf, smiling until suddenly he bared his teeth and growled at the wolf, drawing a playful growl from Ghost and a giggle from Myrcella. At that his head snapped toward her, his eyes widening slightly in embarrassment.
"Princess," he said taking his hand from Ghost's maw, causing the wolf to silently sit beside him. As she approached he motioned to the wolf. "This is Ghost."
She smiled at the wolf who stared at her with crimson eyes. "He's beautiful."
"Quiet too."
She held her hand out, letting Ghost sniff it before he licked her fingers and let her run them through his fur. Myrcella sat to rub his head and laugh as Ghost looked content. After a moment she looked to Jon and found him staring at her with a grim expression that made her pout. "What is it?"
"Nothing," he assured with a shake of his head. "Just thinking."
"About?" she asked standing.
He seemed to consider his answer before smiling solemnly. "I'm sure by now you've heard of the tourney coming up?" Seeing her nod he declared, "I'm going ride in it."
"What will be your epithet this time?" Myrcella asked taking her hand from Ghost.
"Bastard of Winterfell most likely," Jon said with a shrug. "I'll ride as myself."
"Good," she beamed.
"I can't well do this before the court, but I would ask a favor from the one I intend to crown as queen of love and beauty."
Myrcella's eyes widened, placing a hand over her heart. "Truly?"
Jon nodded. "It's what I intended last time, though this time I imagine I'll claim the reward rather than throw it all to the crowd as I planned to hide my identity."
Myrcella felt her chest tighten even more at the revelation. Her lips curved as she thought on what she could give him. "If I were to give you my favor, I'd want more than it's return."
"Such as?"
"A song."
Jon shook his head. "I can't reward your favor by torturing you."
Myrcella raised her chin. "Then let your arm be bare."
His brow furrowed, shaking his head at her impetuous tone. "Fine. If I win and crown you queen of love and beauty and can return your favor to you, I will play a song on the harp."
"And sing?" she asked, her arched brow and hopeful tone breaking her indignant facade.
"I've only just begun to learn the harp," he said pitifully. "Don't make me embarrass myself even more."
With a relenting sigh she nodded. "I can find you a favor."
"My arm thanks you for it's protection."
He watched her leave after petting Ghost again and made his way to his room laughing, wondering why exactly he'd done that. Yet as he sat in bed that night with his hand over the spot where his egg laid, it felt right. He could win and crown her and figure out a way to make it seem born from gratitude rather than adoration.
While Arya began her training a day later it would be another before Loras was free to join them in the yard again. It wasn't long before crowds began to gather again whenever the young knights gathered to spar. Arya had taken to doing her odd practices given to her by Syrio while watching them, doing as Jon told her and observing their matches to try and imagine herself fighting them. She would need to know how to battle them since bravos swords weren't common in Westeros. More than once Syrio had even taken to joining her following a session to observe them after she'd mentioned it to him, wanting to see what other influences his student had.
Eventually Ned stopped by one afternoon to observe them, and Jon pushed himself even harder, feeling the aches and sweat worth it when he saw a hint of pride in Ned's smile before he left. Another afternoon Sansa came to join them with Jeyne Poole, both looking shocked as they watched Domeric, Jon and Loras all fighting one another, either in pairs against one or all three against each other. Seeing their confusion Sam explained to them, "They do it to try and be ready for the chaos of a true battle. It was Ser Domeric's idea."
Sansa frowned as she watched Domeric parry Jon's sword so it blocked Loras's strike, leaving both open for him to duck and slash across both their armored stomachs with his blunted blade. Though he wore a cold expression as he did so, she was surprised to see them all back away laughing. They'd all worn such focus she'd wondered if they weren't trying to truly harm one another. Instead they often went over moves or strategies they'd attempted, pointing out faults with each other as well as where they excelled.
They were a month out from the tourney when Barristan looked to Jon one afternoon after their shift with Tommen ended. "Have you ordered your armor yet?"
"No," said Jon. "I still have my helmet from last time and enough to get another set of spare armor from Mott's shop."
Barristan came to a stop briefly before waving Jon along. "Come. I can't have my squire being ill prepared again."
Jon furrowed his brow, following the kingsguard along their new course toward Flea Bottom. "What?"
"I think you've more than earned your sword and armor by now." Making sure they couldn't be overheard, Barristan added with a smile, "If I can't act as your guard yet, let me at least arm and armor my king."