Chapter 2: Jon III

Jon III

Jon uneasily watched the procession of the king enter. He was doing a better job at controlling his emotions. There had been a few days over the past six months where he lingered a bit too long watching the activities unfold in the yard and, as a result, was on the receiving end of awkward questions by his uncle, Maester Luwin, and, even worse, Lady Stark. Not that he could ever do right in her eyes, but this somehow cast him in an even more suspicious light.

The worst were the people. He took greater glee in Arya's antics than he had before, relishing in her childish innocence when he knew that soon after it would be ripped away from her like clothes from her back. He was sharper with Bran about climbing the walls of Winterfell, which made Bran a bit more sullen towards him, but he was bound and determined to make sure that he would not be on the tower walls the day before the king left Winterfell. He clung to Robb like a child with a stuffed animal. He hoped it wasn't noticeable, but he was in his presence as often as he could manage. The only time they were apart is when Theon managed to drag Robb to Winterstown or when Lord Stark summoned Robb for personal tutelage.

He had also taken his lessons more seriously this time around. When he was not in the training yard, building his muscles and retraining himself, he was often seen in the library reading books on governance, economics, and the history of the Seven Kingdoms. He had been going through a particularly difficult book about how the economy worked when a knock came at the library door. He glanced up to see his uncle giving him a rather meaningful stare.

It was only now that he knew himself to be Aemon Targaryen that he understood what that look meant. It was a look that suggested he was doing things above his status, which in turn implied that he knew something about his true heritage. It was an expression that encompassed curiosity, fear, and suspicion all at once.

"Father? Is something wrong?"

"No, son, not at all. Maester Luwin came to me the other day and had nothing but praise for your studiousness. He wished you could influence your brothers to be better students."

"I can't make them want to learn," Jon said with a shrug and a teasing smile.

"I was just curious about what inspired this new-found love of learning. Not that I discourage it, by all means. It pleases me that you are taking advantage of your place here in Winterfell. You could be a great asset to a lord some day, but this isn't like you."

Jon very nearly grimaced and set the book down. "I had a dream…."

"You've been having a lot of strange dreams lately."

Again, Jon nodded. He explained away any of his latest strange behavior as attributing to dreams. It's not like he could tell them that he is reincarnated from a future self and knew how the family would crumble and fall like he was a prophet of the Old Gods. Without a doubt, his family found it silly how much importance he placed on his dreams, but it's not like none of them had ever been motivated by nightmares before.

"I dreamed I became the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and the first thing that happened was that I was buried in an avalanche of paperwork. But I had never run a castle before! I was flailing around like a fish out of water until I had all but drowned in the paperwork. Even if I never rise to Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, I'll always be useful as long as I have this knowledge on hand."

"Indeed," Ned said. His eyes had brightened when Jon mentioned "Lord Commander" and at the same time the tension seemed to leave his shoulders. He understood now that part of the reason his uncle hadn't worked really hard to talk him out of joining the Night's Watch was because his heritage, should it come to light, would mean nothing there. He knew that was why his uncle allowed him to join, but at the same time it caused a fire to smolder in his belly. The world fell apart because you were too much of a coward to tell me the truth about my mother. I had to learn it from others, when you should have told me the day I became a man. Or at the very least, the day I left for the Night's Watch. He knew his uncle was not a perfect man and certainly might have changed his mind if he knew the realm would fall apart without that information, but the fact that his uncle had the chance and still refused to tell him even when he had the right to know was galling. "There's always a possibility that you could rise to be Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. When that day happens, know that I am proud of you. Keep studying, son! And try to encourage your brothers to keep up their study habits or they'll suffer the same as you did in your dream."

The smile fell from Jon's face as soon as the door clicked shut once more. Forget Lord Commander, he would be the best damned king since Jaehaerys the first.

However, while Jon trained and learned, he still ran across the problem of what he was going to do when the king arrived. The king was clopping through the gate on his horse and even now Jon still had no idea how he was going to prevent his uncle from going south. He shoved that thought to the back of his mind and instead focused on the entourage.

It was the same as before. It took ages for the entire party of the king to arrive and Arya showed up late, just as before, wearing a helmet. Robert Baratheon was as Jon remembered: fat, loud, and brash. The crown prince Joffrey was just behind him along with the Hound. He had been forced to hide from Joffrey when he had been here before and so he remembered very little about him, but something about his appearance struck him as off. He still looked spoilt and girly, but his arrogance seemed muted. Sansa grinned and blushed at his appearance all the same.

However it was Jaime Lannister who instantly caught his eye. His hair was short. It was styled in the same way it had been at the end of his old life, but he was clean shaven now. Gone was the arrogant smirk and in its place, a look so serious that it would have been better placed on his uncle. Jon continued staring at him at a length that would be rude if anyone were paying him any attention, but he studied the man as his green eyes swept over the family. When Jaime's eyes fell on his uncle, he obviously clenched his jaw and glared, his lip curling ever so slightly, before he wrenched his eyes away and then quite suddenly connected with Jon's eyes. Jon froze and his own eyes widened at being caught staring. Jaime's eyes seemed to narrow in suspicion and then, after a moment, he gave him a curt nod before proceeding to dismount with the rest of the Kingsguard.

Jon's heart froze in his chest. The vast majority of nobles who looked over the family would have to be straining awfully hard to see him and that's only if they were looking, which none ever were. So why did Jaime even acknowledge him? He would have to figure out a way to approach him.

The next person he sought was Tyrion. He lingered astride his horse and Jon had the feeling it was to temporarily stand taller than everyone else. The dwarf looked on the proceedings with barely concealed sardonic amusement. He never once looked at Jon.

The great carriage in which the queen and her daughter and son sat rolled in as slowly as the ocean's tide. The door opened and Queen Cersei stepped down like she was a goddess descending from on high, pretending like she cared about the small folk. Behind her, two young girls, the very picture of their mother, climbed gracefully out. Wait… girls? Where was Prince Tommen? No other children emerged.

King Robert was marching along the line of his cousins, giving Robb a hearty slap on the back and complimenting the girls. Jon had to suppress his grin at Arya's terribly concealed eye roll only to be glared at by her mother. Just as before, Robert did not hesitate to drag his uncle off to the crypts where he knew the proposition of Hand and Sansa's marriage would be agreed upon. Jon suppressed a shudder and simply kept observing.

Cersei only just deigned to tilt her head and look at Eddard and Catelyn Stark's numerous children with a small smile. She stopped on Sansa and said, "You're a pretty one. What's your name, little dove?"

Sansa had a look on her face like all of her dreams had come true at once. "Sansa, Your Grace."

"Best keep an eye on her, Lady Catelyn. I imagine the whole of the Seven Kingdoms shall be clamoring for her hand," the queen said, but there was no denying the condescending smile on her face. Her eyes appeared almost predatory, but Lady Catelyn merely smiled graciously and thanked her for her compliments regarding her daughter. Jon's insides churned and he vowed to make sure Sansa didn't go to King's Landing to be preyed upon by Cersei and Joffrey.

Prince Joffrey was introduced, then Myrcella, and the final girl who couldn't have been more than five was Julianna. Jon kept looking at the Lannister brothers' faces. Tyrion now looked just amused and he was gracious to Lady Stark and the children, but Jaime's face could have been carved from stone. Perhaps he was mistaken, but he appeared to be maintaining a certain distance from his sister.

If this Jaime did indeed carry the memories of the life before, there was no uncertainty as to why. Cersei had committed the gravest sin of using wildfire, betrayed both of her brothers, and ultimately tried to have both of them killed. Jon couldn't imagine having to be in forced proximity to the one who tried to kill him. Granted, Cersei wasn't quite as mad now as she was then, but the madness had always been there; it just needed to be unearthed.

Catelyn finally dismissed everyone and Jon was happy to duck out and squirrel away in his room until the feast that evening. Lady Stark had taken him aside earlier that day and told him that bastards were not to be seen. He had nodded at her and then went to the library to take out a book called The Great and Noble Houses of Westeros . He had considered going to the library now, but he expected Tyrion to make a beeline either straight for it or to the local brothel and he wasn't ready yet to meet with the littlest Lannister. Jaime Lannister was probably on duty protecting either the king or the queen, so there was no chance of pulling him away for a private meeting, if he even looked at him twice.

For once, Jon was grateful to be positioned outside of the nobility at a separate table. He had a better vantage point to see everyone else without being seen. He rolled his eyes at the pomp and circumstance on display as the king and House Stark came in. The king and queen went first and were arm and arm, deliberately not looking at each other; they separated at the first moment they could. Lord and Lady Stark followed, looking like one of the only two couples pleased to be there. Joffrey and Sansa followed. Sansa looked like she was floating on a cloud as she beamed at everyone. Joffrey was smiling, but he seemed less enthused. Robb accompanied Myrcella, the latter of whom seemed just as starstruck by Robb as Sansa was by Joffrey. Bran and Julianna walked arm in arm and-Jon had to stifle a laugh - Arya went arm in arm with Tyrion. In the previous life, she had come to hate Tyrion with every fiber of her being, but here she was almost as enthused as Sansa because she found "the imp" fascinating. Tyrion seemed to find her own enjoyment amusing. Of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Mandon Moore, and Ser Boros Blount were on guard that evening. Ser Mandon and Ser Barristan were positioned behind the king and queen, but Ser Jaime was actually positioned closer to the exit, looking like he couldn't wait to duck out. Of the Kingsguard there, he was the most stolid and easily the most intimidating. The servants who passed him moved around him like water bending around a boulder in a stream.

The people had to remain standing as long as the king did. Robert finally opened his arms wide and said, "Let the feast begin!"

Jon ate mechanically. When he had initially come to with memories of his previous life, he had almost gaped at the excess of food available in Winterfell, a place that was already known for its sparsity. It had been years since he had been allowed to indulge in an apple and oatmeal with honey and brown sugar mixed in. He was used to it once more, but he glanced around now at the excess of food and wrinkled his nose. Not that this was anything they could save until winter, but he felt a feast like this could have fed the entirety of his ten thousand men at the end.

Mostly though, he was keeping an eye on Sansa and Joffrey. Just as before, this Joffrey was crowing about his accomplishments, which he was certain had to be more than a little embellished since he couldn't be more than four-and-ten. But Sansa was lapping it up like he was one of the princes from her beloved songs. Arya was clearly bored with Bran on her right. She naturally had no interest in what the princesses were saying to Jeyne Poole and she was already fiddling with her silverware, her eyes darting to Sansa with a mischievous look in them.

Robb and Theon too looked bored, since the prince was too busy regaling Sansa to talk about weapons and training. At one point, Robb sighed and looked around. He caught his brother's eye and made a face like he was being hanged and winked at his brother. You're not missing anything, the wink said.

It was interesting how perspective changed with experience. Previously, Jon would have given anything to be known as a Stark and sit among his cousins, but after having lived with a legitimate title, he knew that he was missing nothing vital and in fact wished he could creep away to his room to continue reading. As it was, he tapped his feet with nervous energy and stirred his food around, occasionally forcing a bite down his throat, determined not to let a single morsel go to waste.

He glanced up at the high table. The king was making an ass of himself by fondling one of the serving girls on his lap and his uncle was trying desperately to appear like he didn't approve of the behavior without looking like he wanted to rain on the king's evening. Cersei was doing her level best to ignore the way her husband was dishonoring her by having a conversation with Catelyn, but by the bored look on her face, she wasn't even listening to what Catelyn was saying.

A hand clapped on his shoulder. "Jon, good to see ya!"

"Uncle Benjen!" Jon cried out, his glee not the least bit forced. It was refreshing to look up into his face and see pink flesh and the light dancing in his uncle's eyes. It was a far cry from the undead, clammy, and too pale thing he'd turned into north of the Wall. He leapt up and embraced his uncle. "I hope your journey was pleasant."

"The summer journeys are always pleasant. Not a lot of snow on the road, plenty of game for predators to catch that aren't me and the horse, and the weather is pleasant, of course."

"I can imagine," Jon said. "Don't get too many pleasant journeys north of the Wall?"

"You might be surprised. All is quiet north of the Wall."

No it isn't, Jon thought. He knew his uncle wasn't there just for a pleasant visit with his brother's family. He still grinned and asked, "Do you have any more interesting stories for us?"

"Not particularly. The Wall is as it always is. We don't have enough men to man it and our resources are limited. I've come to see your father on whether he has any more contributions he and the southern lords can make. I've seen an increasing number of direwolves and shadowcats close to the wall. In fact, I've heard you and your siblings now have direwolf pups of your own."

Jon's smile was real this time. "Yes, mine is Ghost! I can take you out to see him."

"Oh no, you won't get out of the feast that easy," Benjen said, clapping him on the shoulder again.

"It's not like the king will miss a bastard," Jon muttered so that only Benjen could hear.

"Maybe so, but your father will miss you. Speaking of, I better go greet him. Nice to see you again, nephew."

"Uncle," Jon said with a nod goodbye.

It was at that moment a girlish shriek rent through the hall. Everyone turned to see Sansa gaping at her beautiful new gown now smeared with potatoes. Arya howled with laughter.

"Arya!"

Lady Stark made a motion with her hand at Robb and he instantly stood and grabbed their sister. "Off to bed with you."

Once Arya and Robb were gone, Lord Stark summoned a small band that kicked up a tune. There was a roar of approval and couples were soon populating the floor. Sansa all but dragged Joffrey to the dance floor.

Jon was just about to stand up and head out into the night for a breath of fresh air when a memory long buried suddenly shot through his head and he froze: Mance Rayder is here. He was sitting around the fire with Mance, his wife, and his wife's sister, sharing a meal. The fire caused the deep lines in Mance's face to cut even deeper as his voice mentioned sneaking into the king's entourage and playing at Winterfell on that first night.

Slowly, Jon's gaze swept the hall. There were a few other men that were still walking around trying to be heard over the den of the band. None of them matched the King-Beyond-the-Wall. He was just walking through the hall to head out the door when he finally spotted him, resting against the wall, knocking back a mug of ale. Jon hurried on and focused on the exit before he could be caught staring again. He wished desperately to be able to approach him, but there was no way of accomplishing that without either causing a riot or Mance Rayder to question his sanity. He made a mental note and went on.

He had to pass Jaime Lannister to get out of the hall. Jaime's gaze seemed to linger on him as he passed, but there was no noticeable shift in demeanor in the Kingsguard. He did make Jon feel like a child who was trying to sneak a pocketful of sweetcakes past him and he may have passed him at a more brisk pace than was normal.

He inhaled deeply once he stepped foot outside. Even though he'd been back for near six months, he still expected a frigid blast of cold air to freeze his lungs, instead of the pleasantly sweet summer chill that was the North. He headed over to the kennel where the direwolf pups had been put up for the night. Ghost yipped happily as he set him free.

"Good to see you, Ghost. I'm sorry you have to be in the cage. Lord Stark's orders, I'm afraid. Come, let's go to the godswood."

Ghost trotted at his feet, glancing up with his tongue hanging out of his mouth happily. A hush fell over them as soon as they entered the godswood and it was the first time since he'd been back that he felt like the gods were listening. He didn't head straight for the tree, but instead walked around, smiling as Ghost bounded ahead and sniffed the area around the tree, no doubt looking for rabbits or squirrels.

Eventually, he wound back around until he was staring at the bloodied face of the weirwood tree. He studied it meticulously, but it was as plain as it ever was. He reached a hand out to it, hesitated a moment, and then connected with the face, cupping its cheek almost lovingly.

"What would you have me do? I'm still no closer to figuring out how to circumvent what is about to happen. What is your will?"

Jon held his breath. Even Ghost stopped to stare at the weirwood, cocking his head as though the answer would come to his ears. With a gentle brush of the wind, the leaves trembled in the trees, but soon even that too faded away to silence. Still nothing.

This wasn't the first time he had sought out the weirwood tree for answers upon being back. He at least now knew that the gods had to exist in order for him to be back, but so far they remained hushed about their intentions. "Please don't leave me alone in this," Jon whispered to the night sky.

The snapping of a stick caused him to whirl around and he once more reached for a sword that didn't exist at his belt. His hackles were raised and he looked around for anything that could serve as a weapon, but he couldn't even see so much as a large stick. He braced himself and waited.

A figure with a black cloak and the hood drawn up approached him, without faltering a step, and then stopped just on the other side of the pond. The person flipped his hood back and Jon almost gasped upon recognizing the blond hair of Jaime Lannister. He peered curiously at Jon for a moment and then said, "Ah, Ned Stark's bastard. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name. Was it Jon… or Aemon?"