Chapter Text
The day Arya began her lessons she was practically glowing with happiness. As the days passed and she learned more, she could go on forever about Syrio and what he had to say on different subjects. Jon could see his father and Sansa quickly growing tired of the constant chatter about the man, but they held their tongues in the face of Arya’s happiness. Personally, Jon loved that Arya was finally able to purse something she was actually interested in. Arya had been made to take lessons in singing and sewing and other ladylike pursuits she didn’t care for; to see her throw herself into these lessons with such abandon was wonderful.
Jon could also understand her excitement. He had been training with Ser Jaime for nearly the same amount of time and if he could have told anyone about his experiences he would have. The man was unrelenting in his critique and exacting measures. Ser Jaime had not held his back his criticism of Jon’s skills when they had briefly trained at the inn, but ever since they had began again in King’s Landing he had become even more exacting. It was as if the knight was expecting some greatness from Jon. He had Jon repeat the same foot work and stances until he could have done it in his sleep. Ser Jaime also had quite the mouth on him. He treated insults like an art and was determined that Jon should learn this art as well. So far, he was not living up to expectations in this area of study. He caught on to the slights fast enough but thought too much about his reply according to Ser Jaime. Not that Jon could complain. Though the man was infuriating, Jon knew he was improving. He could tell by how the insults had lessened and the self-satisfied smirks had increased. He longed to be as free as Arya to vent and boast about his training.
They had just finished their afternoon family meeting and snack and were on their way for their daily adventure when Sansa finally had enough.
“Will you shut up about your dancing master for five minutes?” Sansa said with great exasperation.
“You’re just jealous that I get to learn to fight and you don’t,” Arya replied.
“I don’t want to learn to fight, I want to have an afternoon where I don’t have to hear about chasing cats and the benefits of falling down stairs,” Sansa groaned.
“Where do you want to go today, Arya, it’s your turn after all,” Jon said to distract them from what he could see was a mounting fight.
“I want to see if we can find the dragon skulls!” Arya said excitedly.
“Oh, I wouldn’t mind seeing the dragon skulls, but where would we even start?” Sansa asked, glad at the subject change no doubt.
“Surely someone knows,” Jon replied.
They ended up asking a maid servant who had shyly told them they were in the old dungeons and where exactly that was.
“But begging your pardons,” the maid said with a curtsey, “No one is meant to be down there.”
“Oh, I see. Of course,” Sansa replied.
The maid nodded and disappeared down the hall.
“Are we really not going to check it out?” Arya whined.
“We aren’t supposed to,” Sansa replied nervously.
“Please, Jon, can’t we go?” Arya turned to Jon desperately.
Jon was sorely tempted to tell her yes, as he too wanted to see the famed dragon skulls, but Sansa was right. They could get in trouble if they were caught down there. He looked at his sisters and saw his same desire reflected in their eyes. Even Sansa, who had pointed out that they weren’t allowed, looked excited at the prospect.
“Please,” Arya repeated, grabbing his hand and looking up at him.
“Fine, yes we can go,” The girls shared an excited look, “Remember, we aren’t supposed to be down there, you must be quiet.”
The girls agreed enthusiastically and they began the long trek down to the old dungeons, the wolves again taking up front and rear look out. As they walked, the air got cooler and the corridors darker. Several times their wolves alerted them to guards moving on rotations and they were all forced to tuck into small dark alcoves or behind doors to avoid being seen. Soon they came to a grilled metal door with a large old lock. Jon tested the door and was pleased to find it unlocked. He and the girls swiftly slipped past it and down the stairs where they again had to tuck away once to avoid being seen before they entered a hall. The room was only sparsely lit by a few torches, but even so Jon could tell it was a very large room with high ceilings and a deep echoing feel. With a glance at his sisters, Jon took one of the torches and led the way into the massive room.
“Why would they have such a large hall so deep in the keep?” Sansa asked looking up at the ceiling.
“I heard the Targaryens used to keep some of their dragons here at the Red Keep to remind the people who their rulers were,” Arya whispered, “they would fly out of the keep and over the city. They say their wings were so big they blocked out the sun.”
“Really?” Sansa whispered back nervously.
Jon didn’t know if that was true, but he would believe it. The space was so large, surely a dragon would fit.
As they turned around one of the large support pillars, they saw the first one and Jon stopped in his tracks. There, on a pedestal sat a small skull. He and the girls exchanged a look before moving closer. As Jon and the girls approached, a second pedestal appeared from the darkness with its own skull atop it. Sansa and Arya had grown silent as the skulls had come into view and drew close to Jon as they slowly approached the first skull.
“It’s so small,” Arya whispered.
“It must be one of the last dragons. It’s said they were no bigger than cats,” Sansa replied like she was reciting from a book.
They all circled the skull to examine it and Jon noted it looked… wrong. Misshapen.
“They say as the dragons got smaller, they got sickly and ill formed,” Sansa continued as if she could hear Jon’s thoughts, “we’ll have to see the bigger ones to see what they should have looked like.”
“Then let’s go see, come on!” Arya hissed with excitement and began pulling Jon toward the next skull.
Sansa clung to his other arm as they slowly passed the second small dragon skull. Even small and quite dead, Jon couldn’t deny that it felt like the eyes were following them as they walked. As if they could tell there were intruders in their space. More and more skulls began to appear out of the darkness as they walked, quickly becoming too big to be displayed on pedestals. They sat directly on the ground and soon towered over the three of them as they walked.
Sansa was right that as the skulls got bigger they began to look more like what Jon imagined. Great teeth filled their mouths and horns adorned their heads more and more as the skulls grew in size. They were now so big that he and his sisters could crawl inside the mouths if they wanted to. How an animal could get so large was mystifying. Finally, they reached the last one. It was a truly massive thing. It’s teeth were as long as swords and just as sharp while its horns were so massive a grown man couldn’t wrap his arms around them. In death it’s mouth sat closed, but Jon could tell it was large enough to drive a carriage through.
“Do you think its Balerion?” Arya asked in awe.
“It must be,” Sansa whispered.
Jon slowly walked forward and stretched out his hand.
“Jon, what are you doing!” Sansa hissed.
Jon ignored her as he slowly laid his hand on the snout of the skull. He looked at his hand and could almost see dark scales beneath it and as he looked up into the eyes of the skull he once again felt as though he was being watched, scrutinized by those great empty pits. He had felt watched and unwelcome in the crypts of Winterfell when he was a child and prone to being frightened of the dark and his status as a bastard. This felt different, like a weight settling over him as he stared into the dark depths of the dragon’s eyes.
“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” a voice rang out behind them.
Sansa and Arya screamed and Jon turned, one hand still on the skull and the other brandishing the torch like a sword. As he watched, a figure emerged from the darkness. It was a plumb bald man dressed in silks. He had a pleasantly bland look on his face and walked with an eerie quiet as he made his way toward them.
“Magnificent creatures. That is indeed the skull of the Black Dread, the largest dragon of record, ridden by Aegon the Conqueror himself,” the man continued. “Oh, I am sorry for frightening you, it wasn’t at all my intention. I heard voices as I was passing through and wondered who it could be. New servants and guests do get lost down here sometimes and I hate to imagine them wandering lost.”
“We’re not lost,” Arya replied, “or scared!”
“Indeed?” the man asked with a smile.
“Well…” Arya looked to Sansa then, unsure what to say.
“We do know where we are, it’s just…” Sansa failed to explain.
“We know we are in the dungeons,” Jon cut in, “But knowing where you are and how to get where you want to be are two different things, my lord,” Jon jumped in, hoping the man would take pity on them.
“Ah, I completely understand, young man. But do allow me to introduce myself, I am lord Varys and you, unless I am very much mistaken, are Lord Stark’s children,” the man replied with an easy smile.
“Yes, my lord,” Sansa replied with her own smile.
“You’re the master of whispers! They call you the spider,” Arya added happily.
“Really, Arya, would you shut up?” Sansa whispered heatedly at her sister, but with the echoing quality of the room the whisper traveled easily to Jon and Lord Varys as well.
The man chuckled, “Indeed, my lady. No need to worry, I do not take offense. But it would behoove me to lead you out, this dark cellar is no place for ladies or their wolves.”
Jon watched the man’s eyes stray to the two she wolves that had positioned themselves between him and the girls. He studied them for a moment before his eyes shifted to Ghost, who stood still and silent next to Jon. Then the man’s eyes lifted to Jon himself. Lord Varys studied him, those calculating eyes flitting between Jon and the hand still resting on the dragon skull. A question seemed to settle in those eyes as they turned away.
“Come now, lets get you out of this dark place,” Lord Varys said and with one last look at Balerion’s great skull they followed him back the way they had come.
They passed more guards, but the men said nothing as Lord Vays lead them out. On the way the man asked after Bran and if they had gotten any word from Lady Stark or their brother Robb. He inquired about Jon’s injuries and how long it would be until he was back in the training yard, commiserating about it being necessary in the first place. He asked how they had enjoyed their first day and upon hearing of their outing asked after Sansa’s choices in fabric. Jon listened and watched and didn’t like it. The man was fishing for information. Luckily enough there was nothing of substance to give but knowing that the man was working them made Jon’s hackles rise.
It was dark by the time they made it back to the Tower of the Hand, though they had gotten there quickly as the lord was much better at navigating the way than they had been. The man took Sansa’s hand and patted it gently, delivering some line about how lovely it was to have the future queen here to stay with them and then the man was off. Jon watched after him as his sisters whispered to each other about the adventure. Jon now understood is father at the inn. That man was trouble.
“That was lucky, wasn’t it Jon?” Sansa said with a smile.
“I don’t like that man,” Jon replied.
“Why? He was so nice, leading us out of there,” Sansa asked with surprise.
“He asked a lot of questions,” Jon explained as he turned to enter the tower.
“So? They weren’t important questions,” Arya argued.
“Not this time, but he definitely got a lot of information,” Jon replied.
“Like what?” Arya asked.
“Well, he knows how our family is doing in the North and that your mother hasn’t written for whatever reason. He knows we have been seen in the markets and that I am recovering well from my injuries. He even has an idea of what colors we’ll be wearing while we are here,” Jon replied.
“But that, it, we were just having conversation!” Sansa exclaimed.
“He’s like a hunter or fisherman setting out bait and lying in wait for his prey. He asks after your day and you answer innocently that we were at the market and what we bought, he asks after our brothers and your mother and he learns what he wants,” Jon explained with a sigh. “It’s best to stay away from him.”
Sansa looked absolutely offended, but Arya looked excited, “A conversation can be like hunting?” she asked.
“Well yes. If you go chasing head long through the forest after a deer or splashing through the water after a fish, you’ll never be successful. But if you watch and observe them and lay some bait, they will come to you,” Jon said, “Same thing here. If he came out and said, ‘have you gotten any news from the North that I might need’, we would have refused to answer him, but he asks nicely, says kind things to make us feel secure like a hunter in a blind. Then we give him what he asks for. If he said, ‘and what colors will you favor so I know how to pick you out of a crowd’, we would have run away thinking him some kind of creep. But asking after what we bought at the market and ‘there are so many colors, more options than you’re used to I’m sure, which did you like?’ We answer that no problem,” Jon looked to his sisters to see if they understood.
“That’s terrible!” Sansa cried.
“That’s amazing!” Arya countered, “I want to learn how to do that!”
“It may be terrible, but from what I hear, that’s court,” Jon told Sansa, “You’ll both need to learn it. Don’t worry though, wolves are excellent hunters and you are she wolves. You’ll pick it up in no time.”
The girls continued to ask questions about the art of ‘Conversation Hunting’ as they had taken to calling it. Jon did his best to answer, reminding them he was no expert on the subject while at the same time cautioning them not to trust anyone who was. They had moved on to mock conversations, trying to answer questions without giving anything away by the time they were drawing close to their chambers. Sansa stopped before reaching the door causing Jon and Arya to stop and look back at her.
“Father never speaks to us like this,” she said softly, “he has tried more since we have left home, but he would never teach us how to answer without answering or to look for falsehood in others.”
“That’s because you shouldn’t have to,” Jon replied, “people should say what they mean and mean what they say, not be constantly hiding who they are and looking for ways to trick and cheat each other. It’s wrong,” Jon sighed, “Father knows you have to know who you are and what is right before you start challenging people who want to trick or change you into being something else. He has worked hard at showing you how the world is meant to be so that you will know when people are doing something wrong.”
Jon paused, trying to think of the right words, “He loves us all so much and wants to protect us. But sometimes, being protected can make us not know how to protect ourselves. Father’s lessons are important; you need to learn who you are and what you believe in. I don’t want you two to become jaded and accustomed to speaking false and trusting no one. I want you to believe in the way the world should be, but I also want you to know what it looks like when people are being manipulative and how to avoid being caught in their traps. That’s all.”
Sansa and Arya looked at him solemnly and nodded.
“I can do that,” Sansa replied.
“Yes, we’ll do good, you’ll see,” Arya replied.
“Good, now come on, father is surely waiting for us,” Jon replied feeling a bit unnerved.
It wasn’t his intention to undermine his father, but he did feel this was important. Especially here in the capitol where everyone was so politically motivated. Of course, most of his information on the subject was second hand, but it was from reliable sources such as Maester Luwin. The old maester had strongly advised both himself and Robb to keep an ear out for people saying one thing and meaning another when dealing with political games and negotiation, especially when dealing with the South as with them it could be quite complicated. Both he and Robb had taken the lessons to heart and tried to listen to what was not being said when the old man read through old treaties and letters. He understood that ladies education differed slightly from theirs, but hopefully he could impart some of what he learned to his sisters.
They entered their chambers and just as Jon predicted, Lord Stark and Septa Mordane were already seated at the table. Jon saw that the table was already set and the meal served. A quick glance at the faces of the two adults told him they had been waiting for some time and were not impressed.
“Where have you been? We have been waiting,” Lord Stark asked in a no nonsense tone.
Jon hesitated for a moment. He knew they would get a lecture if they told him where they had been, but he had already been less than true about his interactions with Ser Jaime and he balked at the idea of lying by omission again.
“We were in the dungeons,” Jon answered.
This caused their father to frown, “What were you doing down there?”
“We wanted to see the dragon skulls,” Sansa answered nervously.
“The dungeons and the dragon skulls are off limits to visitors. I can’t imagine they just let you down there,” Lord Stark said.
“We had to sneak in,” Arya said to the floor.
“Am I to understand that you deliberately went into an area you knew you weren’t meant to be after I have told you to obey when you are told to stay out of an area?” their father asked with clear irritation.
“But the door wasn’t even locked!” Arya cried, “Jon just pushed it open!”
“And we didn’t hurt anything, we just wanted to see,” Sansa added.
“And doors being unlocked and no intention to cause harm gives you free reign over this castle, does it?” Lord Stark said. Jon and his sisters shifted uncomfortably as their father’s face grew dark with anger.
“Well, no,” Sansa replied softly.
“No is right. I have given you three the freedom to go where you liked unsupervised since we arrived. That will no longer be the case until you prove to me you can do as you are told,” their father said to the girls before he turned his sights on Jon. “They are young and prone to act rashly, you on the other hand should have known better. We’ll be talking later.”
The girls looked up at him nervously, but Jon just nodded his head in assent.
“Now sit down and eat your dinner before it gets any colder,” their father ordered, frown still firmly fixed on his face.
They took their seats at the table and everyone began to serve themselves. The air of the room felt tense as they all ate in silence. The quiet must have weighed on his father because he soon broke the silence.
“How did you even get down there?” he asked with a sigh.
“We asked a maid where the skulls were and she told us,” Sansa answered.
“You said the gate was unlocked, was that the only obstacle to getting down there?” their father asked.
“No,” Arya replied, “there were guards in the halls leading down.”
“And how did you manage to evade them?” their father continued his interrogation.
“Ghost and Nymeria guarded our front while Lady watched our back,” Jon explained, “When they alerted us we hid in the dark corners so they wouldn’t see us.”
Their father looked distinctly unimpressed, “and you made it all the way to the skulls this way?”
“The guards never saw a thing,” Jon confirmed. Their father mumbled something about having to speak with Robert.
“But the skulls were amazing,” Sansa said, “It’s a shame they are hidden down there in the dark.”
“They started small but they got bigger and bigger!” Arya said, warming up to the conversation. “Our whole family could have fit in Balerion’s mouth!”
Their father chuckled, his icy exterior thawing in the glow of Arya’s enthusiasm. “Just promise me you’ll never crawl inside a live dragon’s mouth.”
“Well, that would be stupid,” Arya grinned, “But I would like to fly one.”
“I think I would be too afraid to even touch a dragon much less fly on it,” Sansa said.
“Jon did touch one!” Arya announced to their father. “He touched Balerion’s skull! He was tiny next to it.”
Their father’s head snapped around to look at Jon, “You touched it?”
Jon shot Arya a look, “Yes, I just felt… drawn to it, I guess. I wanted to see it up close.”
Their father looked pale.
“Mother says you look with your eyes, not your hands,” Sansa smirked.
“And your mother is right, as usual,” Lord Stark said looking uncomfortable. “You should not have touched it.” Jon ducked his head. “And I suppose you got out the same way you got in?”
“No, Lord Varys, the spider, found us and led us out,” Arya corrected.
“Lord Varys?” their father asked.
“Yes, he scared us half to death when he stepped out of the dark,” Sansa replied.
“I wasn’t scared!” Arya objected.
“Strange, you sure screamed like you were scared,” Jon teased.
“Did not!” Arya denied, her face flushed with embarrassment.
Their father was shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “At least I heard it here and not from the man himself in the morning.”
“He was very kind,” Sansa said soothingly.
“I’m sure he was,” their father sighed dropping his hand and leaning back in his chair. “I’m sure he asked many questions as well.”
Sansa and Arya looked at Jon as if he had seen the future. Their father picked up on it and looked between them all, “What?”
“Jon said the exact same thing!” Arya explained.
“He said the man was looking for information and that we had given him plenty,” Sansa added.
“We’ll be speaking about this as well,” Lord Stark said to Jon. He turned to the girls then, “Jon isn’t wrong. Try to avoid talking to the man if you can. He is always after something and it’s better to keep your distance.”
“Jon said that too,” Arya grinned.
“I’m sure he did,” their father sighed. “Now I think it’s time for bed.”
The girls bid them goodnight and their septa lead them away. Lord Stark gave Jon a look before standing and walking to his personal solar next to his room. Jon took a breath and followed after his father. The man was already sitting behind the desk when Jon entered. Jon stood at attention in front of his father.
“Can you explain to me why you thought it was alright to go down there when you were told that it was not allowed?” His father asked.
“I felt a bit as Sansa did,” Jon admitted, “It seemed innocent enough to just want to see the skulls. I couldn’t imagine the king being angry at us for being curious.”
“And perhaps he would have given the three of you permission should you have asked, but you did not,” his father countered. “Had the dangers of being down there with no one knowing occurred to you?”
“Being caught by the guards would have gotten us sent away or taken to you,” Jon replied.
His father shook his head, “The door was unlocked when you went down, what if it was not when you came back up?”
Jon frowned. He hadn’t thought of that.
“We would have called for help,” Jon offered.
“And if no one heard you?” his father pushed again.
“Someone would have heard us,” Jon argued, “There were guards rotating through the corridors.”
“What if they were rotating through the corridors because someone was down there and the door unlocked,” Lord Stark explained, “and what if when the person returned and the door was relocked there was no more need for a guard and they all left?”
Jon blinked in surprise, “Well, surely someone would be back through,” he tried.
“When?” his father asked, “the next day? The day after? How often do you think there is cause to go down to disused dungeons that hold nothing but dusty scions of times long past?” Jon shifted uncomfortably under his father’s gaze. “You had no idea of these things, and no one would have known where to look for you three if the door was locked when you returned.”
Jon swallowed, “I didn’t think,”
“No, clearly you did not,” Lord Stark interrupted, “You are so smart and I begin to think you nearly a man grown, but then you do something like this and I find myself reminded that you are not.” His father sighed
“I’m sorry, father,” Jon bowed his head in shame as he finally understood his father’s position.
“I can see that you are. Never the less you will not be exploring alone with your sister’s anymore as I suspect your inability to tell them no played at least some part in this,” his father replied and Jon winced in agreement. “Now, what did Lord Varys ask about?”
Jon jumped at the change of subject and reported the same thing he had advised Sansa of. Lord Stark frowned and nodded along with Jon’s account of the conversation. He didn’t seem anymore pleased with the questioning than Jon had and agreed with Jon’s assessment of the purpose of the questions.
“Well done picking up on these things, son,” his father complemented as he leaned back in his chair.
“What do you think it was he wanted? ” Jon asked.
Lord Stark’s face was set in a stern, yet far off expression when he answered, “He could be collecting general information, or he could be fishing for something specific.”
Jon waited for more. His father had been more secretive the last couple of weeks and while it hadn’t bothered Jon, he couldn’t deny that he was curious as to what it was all about. Jon stared at his father patiently waiting for him to continue until the man blinked and seemed to come back to himself.
“That will be all, Jon. You best head off to bed,” his father dismissed him and Jon went to bed feeling like he was missing a piece to a puzzle.
The next morning Jon went about his normal morning training with Ser Jaime and breaking his fast with his family. His father appeared to have had an early morning as well as he came to the table from the door rather than his rooms. Lord Stark didn’t explain where he had been and acted as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. After breakfast he requested Jon come along with him to the city and Jon jumped at the chance. Everyone was all abuzz with the tourney beginning. The grounds were set up and hopeful knights milled about preparing for their battles. Jon looked after all the men eagerly as they passed with their squires, trying to pick out names, faces and houses to watch for during the coming events.
Eventually, they came to the Street of Steel and the air became thick with the smell of forges and the ringing of metal. They stopped at a stall and Jon walked into the work area looking about with interest as his father spoke with the smith master. There was another smith in the back and Jon moved to watch him as he worked the metal with powerful strikes of a smith’s hammer. As Jon watched, he was shocked to realize the man was actually a boy of an age with himself. The other boy was so large Jon had assumed him a man grown, but the boy’s face had only a smattering of hair on his chin and upper lip. Jon wondered at the skill the other boy had obtained at such a young age, it made him feel a bit behind.
“That’s well done,” Jon complemented as the boy hammered the metal into shape.
The boy looked up for a moment and Jon watched as the boy took his full measure before turning back to his work, “Thanks, but I still have a lot to learn.”
“We all do,” Jon replied easily, “I’m Jon Snow.”
The boy took a second look at him before smiling slightly, “Gendry Waters. That your lord?” The boy nodded to where Jon’s father was speaking with the smith master.
“Yes, my lord father Eddard Stark,” Jon answered.
“A lord’s bastard,” Gendry replied with raised eyebrows, “and he keeps you ‘round?”
“Aye,” Jon replied as he shifted awkwardly.
“Must be nice. Never knew who my father was,” Gendry replied with a sniff.
“Sorry,” Jon replied. He hadn’t thought what that would mean for the other boy.
“Not your fault,” Gendry dismissed as he turned back to his work. “I’m doing all right for myself. Got a trade, got a job, not begging on the streets.” Jon’s brain took him back to the Street of Looms. How many of the little street urchins were bastards he wondered. “What does a lord’s bastard do anyway? Can’t imagine you work as a smith.”
“I’m training to be a captain of the guard or arms master,” Jon replied.
Gendry nodded and made to continue when they were interrupted by the smith master calling Gendry over. Jon followed the other boy as he made his way over. Lord Stark was standing with the man in the entrance way and watching Gendry curiously. Jon was curious too, what could his father want with the smith’s apprentice?
“There ‘e is, strong for his age, works hard,” the smith said with pride, “Show the Hand the helmet you made, lad.”
Gendry retrieved a helmet from beside the forge and handed it to Lord Stark. His father examined the helmet for a moment, clearly impressed.
“This is fine work,” his father said as he handed the helmet to Jon. It was a finely sculpted bull’s head helmet. The horns curved up elegantly and the face had been wrought with impressive and accurate detail. Jon agreed it was well made and Gendry had clearly put a lot of work into it.
“It’s not for sale,” Gendry was quick to reply.
Jon frowned as the smith admonished his apprentice, “Boy, this is the King’s Hand. If his lordship wants the helmet.”
“No,” Gendry shook his head, “I made it for me.”
Jon thought that was a bit silly. How was he meant to make money or a name for himself if he never sold his best pieces?
“Forgive him, my lord,” the smith asked.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” his father replied, used to the stubbornness of children. Jon thought that would be the end of it and placed the helmet back on the work bench only for his father to ask another question. “When Lord Arryn came to visit you, what’d you talk about?” Jon’s eyebrows rose and he looked at Gendry.
“He just asked me questions is all, my lord.” Gendry replied.
“What kind of questions?” Lord Stark pressed and Jon felt his curiosity mounting. What had the late Lord Arryn interested in this boy and why did his father want to know?
Gendry looked to his master nervously, but the man just nodded at Gendry to answer. “About my work, at first. If I was being treated well, if I liked it here.” Gendry’s eyes became down cast as he continued, “Then he started asking about my mother.”
“Your mother?” his father asked, confused. Jon was also confused. Gendry’s mother couldn’t have been anyone of importance or else he wouldn’t be here making his own way in the world.
“Who she was, what she looked like,” Gendry elaborated.
“What did you tell him?” his father pressed again.
Gendry cut his eyes away from Lord Stark and briefly met Jon’s before they found a spot on the wall. “She died when I was little. She had yellow hair. She’d sing to me, sometimes.”
The boy was shuffling his feet and not meeting anyone’s eyes now and Jon could tell this was a painful subject for him. Jon was bewildered by all this questioning about a subject that the boy was clearly uncomfortable with. His father was a stern man, but not cruel. Why was he pushing so hard?
“Look at me,” Lord Stark suddenly said, an intense expression on his face.
Gendry did and Jon studied the other boy’s face. He glanced between Gendry and his father trying to figure out what was so interesting. He saw his father’s face change, as if he had found the answer to his questions. The man nodded to himself before dismissing Gendry back to his work. Jon and Gendry moved back over to the forge and the two exchanged a look, silently asking the other what that was all about. Jon heard his father speak to the smith.
“If the day ever comes where that boy would rather wield a sword than forge one, you send him to me,” his father said and Jon knew then that this boy was more than he appeared.
As his father turned to leave, Jon tapped Gendry’s shoulder and nodded toward the entrance of the stall. Gendry looked reluctant, but just as curious as Jon. Jon stepped away and nodded to the doorway again. This had to be about the other boy, it only seemed right that if he was going to snoop, the other boy joined him. Gendry seemed to agree as the curiosity finally won out. Gendry checked that the smith master was occupied before he followed Jon to the doorway and they stood together to listen.
“Find anything?” Jon heard Jory ask.
“King Robert’s bastard son,” his father replied.
Jon’s mouth fell open and he turned to look up at Gendry. The other boy looked absolutely gobsmacked. He stared out the door like he was waiting for the punchline of a joke that was never to come. Jon watched as Gendry blinked rapidly, clearly trying to wrap his head around this news. Jon placed a hand on the taller boy’s shoulder in comfort. Gendry suddenly seemed to remember that Jon was there and turned to him sharply, searching his face for answers that Jon did not have.
“Did you know?” Gendry asked, accusation in his voice.
“No, I had no idea,” Jon answered softly. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why did you bring me over here? Why did I have to hear that?” Gendry growled.
“I’m sorry,” Jon repeated, feeling terrible. “All those questions about you, I thought you would want to know.”
“I, I don’t know,” Gendry said as he ran a hand through his hair, “I need to think.”
Jon nodded his understanding. He couldn’t imagine what the other boy was going through. To grow up an orphan only to find out your father was the bloody king and had never cared to know of you? No, Jon couldn’t imagine it.
“Jon?” Lord Stark’s voice rang out.
“I have to go, but I’ll come back by when I can,” Jon whispered quickly.
Gendry nodded silently and stepped back still looking lost and Jon winced as he ducked out the door to join his father. As he stepped out of the stall, his father smiled at Jon and acted as if nothing in the world was wrong. Jon tried to smile back in the same fashion while internally his mind was spinning. He had been curious about what had his father so interested in the other boy. Why Jon Arryn had been interested. That Gendry was the king’s own bastard would have never occurred to him in a million years. He felt excited for being privy to what was clearly not common knowledge, but also sick with guilt about Gendry finding out in such a way.
“What held you up?” his father asked as he mounted his horse.
“Nothing, just speaking with Gendry,” Jon replied as he followed suit.
“Oh? I didn’t think you were interested in smithing,” Jory grinned.
“I’m not. I mean, not really,” Jon explained as they headed back up the street, “I was impressed with his work and thought it wouldn’t hurt to know a good smith.”
“He is quite talented,” his father agreed. “And he’s of an age with you if I’m not mistaken.”
“Yes,” Jon gladly took the opportunity his father was presenting to him. “It would be nice to visit again.”
“As long as you ask permission first,” his father agreed distractedly and Jon internally sighed in relief.
He would need to visit Gendry again as soon as possible. In Jon’s mind he owed the other boy that much after the disastrous way his parentage had been revealed. He knew from experience that the king was not as faithful to his wife as Lord Stark. That was plain to anyone who had attended a feast with King Robert. The knowledge of Gendry had Jon wondering if the king’s unfaithfulness stopped at drunken groping at feasts. If it went further, how many bastards did King Robert have?
It also made Jon wonder how his father could be friends with such a man. Though, Robb was friends with Theon and the Greyjoy was frequent customer of the brothel in Wintertown as were number of the guards. While Jon didn’t like Theon, he had a good relationship with others who frequented the establishment.
“What has you making that face, Jon?” Lord Stark asked.
Jon startled a little and looked up to find his father watching him.
“I was just wondering about something,” Jon said hesitantly, “I know you don’t approve of brothels or frequenting them, but we have friends who do. How can we be friendly with someone when we feel they are doing something wrong?”
“What brought this on?” His father asked with a frown and Jon looked away guiltily.
“I heard you say that Gendry was King Robert’s bastard and it made me think about some of the things he does and I just wondered…” Jon trailed off.
Jon watched as his father sighed and looked up to the sky for a moment, as if asking the god’s for guidance. “Friendship can be complicated, Jon. Every man has a right to make his own choices and live with those choices. None of us are perfect, we all do things that annoy, frustrate or seem wrong to another person. When we choose our friends, we decide if we love them despite what they may do to frustrate us. They are doing the same when they befriend you. Of course, if we see our friends making poor decisions, we can caution them, but in the end it is their decision and we have to respect that even if we don’t agree.”
“But what if a friend does something truly awful like murder or some other crime?” Jon asked.
“There are some things that are inexcusable,” his father nodded, “if someone you thought was a friend does something that you cannot abide, then you would have to end that friendship. In the end it’s what you can live with and what you cannot. Could I live with my friend being a murderer? Probably not. Could I live with a friend being a drunken idiot who can’t keep a coin in his purse?” His father grinned, “Probably.”
“What I can live with and what I cannot,” Jon repeated to himself.
Lord Stark nodded at him with an amused look, “You don’t need to over think it, Jon. You’ll know when a friend has crossed a line. And if you do not, we can always talk it over.” Jon gave his father a small smile which his father returned before continuing, “Now, I thought you might like to see the tourney grounds before we met your sisters or mid meal.”
Jon enthusiastically agreed and all Jon’s moral dilemmas where briefly forgotten as they rode towards the city gates.