Jon

Chapter 1: Jon

Chapter Text

Jon crept from shadow to shadow trying to keep the guards from spotting him. Tonight was the night he'd finally put his plan into action and leave Winterfell. A part of him rebelled against leaving his home of ten and one years, but he could no longer take the treatment from those that should be family. True he was a bastard, and had no real claim to their home, he was lucky to have been allowed what time he had had there; however, events of the past years have finally come to head. He was finally going to give Lady Stark her fondest desire. He was going to disappear.

Life hadn't always been bad here. When he was younger he had played often with Robb and Sansa, his half siblings. Later it was Arya, then Bran and now Rickon who sought him out. His father, Lord Stark, loved him and Lady Stark; well she at least ignored his existence. He had learned from a very early age just what his true status was, though many thought he did not know until much older. Jon had always been very observant, something he had come to rely upon heavily. So when siblings were given warm gestures and kind words from the Lady while he received nothing but scorn, he knew he was different.

Overhearing conversations from the servants around the Keep and putting the facts together had been simple enough. Jon was a stain on the honor of House Stark and an insult to Lady Stark, in her mind at least. Most of the Northerners didn't care that he was an illegitimate son. He had the blood of the Starks in his veins and that meant something. True, he would never inherit, unless, gods forbid, something happened to all of his siblings; but he didn't want to inherit.

Jon saw what so many did not see when they looked at Lords and Ladies and other highborn people. He saw golden cages, where they may have had slightly more privilege, but most certainly not the freedom he could enjoy. The North was slightly less accepting than Dorne of bastards, yet far more accepting than any from south of the Neck down to the Stormlands would ever dare to be. Jon knew if he so desired he could find work and live out his life in one of the many villages in the North. His name would hinder him some, but as long as he proved himself true and honest no one would really care.

Well, no one but Lady Stark and her Southern servants. They all seemed to truly believe that children begot on unmarried couples were born evil. A truly ludicrous idea, considering how innocent all babes were when born. In fact, their own gods preached about the innocence of babes and how one must teach a child to keep them from turning down a dark path. Lady Stark clearly forgot those lessons, or mayhap simply ignored them when it came to Jon.

However, it had not been an issue until he was five years of age and his father came home from the Greyjoy Rebellion with a ward, Theon Greyjoy. At first it hadn't been such a great change. Theon was older than him and Robb by at least three years. Slowly though, Robb started growing more and more enamored with the older boy, who in turn took the eldest Stark child under his wing. No longer did Robb spend nearly every waking minute with Jon, no longer did he share secrets or jokes with his half-brother. Instead he followed Theon around like a little duckling.

Jon had been hurt at first, of course he had. Still, he understood the novelty of a new playmate. It really hurt when Theon refused to let Jon join them due to his 'status' and Robb started agreeing with the other boy. Robb had never before cared that Jon was his half-brother and not his full brother. Now that seemed to change. The heir started spending less time with him and even made comments in his hearing about his status and how he should be grateful he was allowed to live with them. More and more he would make hints about Jon's parentage, or his status and each time it felt like a stab to his heart. Then Sansa had learned what it meant for him to be their half-brother and she started to pull away, choosing to emulate the cool distance that her mother employed. Thankfully, she didn't add the harsh hateful looks to her new attitude towards him. Only little Arya and his father showed him any familial love, and he feared the day Arya would learn his status and choose to leave him too.

Other things began changing as well. Robb would make comments to his mother and suddenly Jon was not allowed to train with Robb anymore, he instead trained with the young new recruits for the guards. Considering the changes in his once beloved brother, he actually enjoyed these lessons more even if they proved difficult. Due to this he could no longer take classes with Maester Luwin at the same time as Robb, so he was only allowed a few hours of the man's time to learn his letters and numbers. At least the Maester recognized how intelligent Jon was and this proved a boon as they could move far quicker through various subjects he would not have been able to with Robb in the room. Something both kept strictly between them. The old man was not blind to see how the Lady would react should she learn of Jon's true mental ability.

In fact, many around the Keep would help teach him things or keep certain facts quiet, as they watched how the Greyjoy boy influenced their young lord into ostracizing his blood brother. There were whispers by the true Northerners how this could bring nothing good.

Other changes happened as well. His room was moved to a lower level near the servants. His clothes were now more hand-me downs from other guards than from Robb. He wasn't allowed to eat with his family as often as before. When his Lord father was away checking on the Keeps of his liegeman Jon would find himself with increased chores and even less time with Arya or Bran, after he was born. Thankfully those two were tenacious enough to hang the rules and seek him out whenever they could.

It was a hard life, better than many thought he deserved, but hard nonetheless. Yet he had never thought of leaving the way he was now until his eighth year. It was during this time of his life that Robb truly showed he no longer saw them as kin. It was then he showed his 'southern' colors.

Theon had intentionally caused the embarrassment of a visiting Lord's son and then blamed Jon for it. Jon had tried to tell them it wasn't him. How could he have done it? He'd been in Wintertown all day helping Old Nan with some of her errands.

None of the highborns believed him. After all he was just a bastard and Theon was the trueborn son of a Lord. No one would speak up for him, not even those servants that knew the truth. For they could not speak out against a highborn.

For one moment it looked like Robb would cave and tell the truth. That he wouldn't leave his brother by blood, half or not, to a punishment he did not deserve. Instead he chose to support to kraken and lied to everyone, condemning Jon to a very painful punishment.

The lashes had been bad, but the disappointed look on his father's face, counteracted by the triumphant one on the Lady's only made it worse. Jon had been banished to his room for two weeks after that.

It was during that time he came to a decision. Winterfell no longer felt like home to him. It had slowly been losing that feeling for years now. If he stayed it would only allow Robb and Theon and Lady Stark to tear him down more, until he was nothing and had no choice but to join the Black to salvage any honor. But Jon would not let that happen. He refused to join the Black. As much as his father talked about it being an honor, as many stories as his Uncle Benjen told, Jon had read between the lines. Very few men actually chose to join the Watch. More often than not the men were criminals sent there to avoid execution. Jon did not want to live in a place where he had to constantly watch his back from people who were supposed to be his 'brothers'. He was getting enough of that now. No, he would not join the Black; instead he would make his way to the free cities and try his luck there.

Only he knew, logically he was not able to at that time. He was only eight, he didn't have much money aside from the few coins his father gave him on his name days, all painstakingly saved and hidden. Though he was progressing in his lessons and training, he still had a ways to go before he could be ready to face the world on his own. So Jon made a plan.

For the next three years he toiled to bring his plan to fruition. He worked harder than ever in his training and studies. He took odd jobs outside of the Keep to earn some coin. Even though Theon and Robb continued to find ways to blame him for things he had nothing to do with, making him seem a liar to some in the Keep, the Northerners knew the truth. Ser Rodrick and his nephew Jory took a few times to catch on, but when they did they made sure the rest of the guards knew as well. Old Nan made sure the people of Wintertown were informed, and if Theon saw a rise in prices for his whoring, well…

Sadly the one person who should have caught on, who should have known of his heir's unbecoming behavior was blind to it. Lord Stark was so busy trying to keep the North running and prepare for the ever-coming Winter that he missed the change in dynamics of his family. He did not see that there was a line slowly being drawn between his youngest children and his oldest. For Arya and Bran were still firmly in Jon's camp despite Lady Stark's attempts otherwise.

The worst part of this was the small folk did notice. Jon sometimes heard whispers of discontent of how southern Robb and Sansa were becoming, no doubt because of their mother. Yet they praised how Arya and Bran were true wolves of the north. As much as his father wanted to ignore it, the North would not settle for the southern ways his wife subtly pushed. Jon really hoped with his disappearance maybe these whispers would taper off, and his family could continue in peace. After all, surely the only reason their southern tendencies were showing so much was because Jon was there.

He would miss his little sister Arya and his little brothers Bran and Rickon, though the latter was young enough to forget him easily. He would miss many of the people he had grown to respect over time. And he would miss his father, a man who loved him as much as he could, given the circumstances. He would even miss Winterfell, the old Keep having served as a home for the last ten and one years of his life. A place seeped with the history of his kin.

He didn't think he would miss Robb, Sansa or Lady Stark, though he could admit he might miss the idea of them.

Still he could not turn back now. He'd finally earned enough coin, gathered together enough supplies and even stumbled upon information about ships in White Harbor looking for crew, including cabin boys. This was the time to act.

As if the gods themselves were on his side, Lord Stark had been called away to oversee a dispute between two of his banner men. He had even seen fit to take Robb and Theon with him, both gloating as much as possible when Jon was around. Jon had learned to ignore them both by focusing on his plan in his mind. It certainly made living here the last three years more bearable.

He had waited until the hour of the wolf knowing if he left this night, the same as Lord Starks' departure, everyone would think he snuck off to join his party, should they even discover his disappearance. Instead he will be headed in the opposite direction.

The only problem was his original route seemed to have more guards than normal. As such he had to actually cut through the crypt yard. Not a joyous prospect. Ever since he was younger he'd had dreams that he was in the crypts, walking down deep into the resting place of the Kings and Lords of Winter. Their statutes would stare down at him in disapproval, before they sprang to live, hovering over him, telling him how he did not belong there. He would cry out apologies and try to run away, more often waking up in a cold sweat before he reached the exit.

Those dreams were just another reminder that he was not a Stark, even if he shared their blood. He did not belong in Winterfell.

Sadly, his only option to avoid being seen at that moment was to duck into the crypts. Why were the guards being so vigilant tonight? Was it because it was the first night Lord Stark was away? Surely not.

Pressing an ear to the door he hear voices murmuring close by. From the sounds of it they would not be going anytime soon. Wonderful.

Jon huffed in irritation, placing his travel sack down for a moment. He had to stay calm; he couldn't let this little hiccup ruin his plan. He'd just wait for them to move on and all would be well.

When another minute passed and the voices continued to show no indication of leaving Jon let out a sigh. Turning around he let his back lean against the large weir wood carved door, his mind wandering slightly. His eyes kept flickering to the steps leading down to the main tombs. Perhaps… perhaps he should pay his respects one last time? His grandfather was buried there, as were his aunt and uncle and countless other ancestors. True he was a bastard, but they were his family and he likely would never be back again.

A feeling in his gut told him this was the right thing to do, just like the times he knew when he needed to go pray in the Gods Wood. So he pulled one of the ever-lit torches at the front of the hall and made his way down the spiral staircase to the first of the tombs.

With the light from the torch he came upon his Uncle Brandon's tomb first. His statute showed a strong man in the prime of his life. It was a shame his father never spoke of him much, then again he disliked speaking of that time, when so many Starks died. Next he moved to his Aunt Lyanna's tomb. He always felt exceptionally sad when he saw her statute, as if his heart was crying out for her. Probably because he truly sympathized with her. He had heard her story from Maester Luwin, or at least the official version. But from what bits he heard about his aunt from Old Nan and Uncle Benjen, she was a lot like Arya. A free spirit that refused to be tied down, and have her freedom taken. Jon had serious doubts that she was 'kidnapped'. Likely she found a way to flee her betrothal and took it. From some of the things he had heard about her betroth, King Robert, he can't say he blamed her. It was just a shame it ended in such disaster.

He turned then to the largest of these three statues, his grandfather, Lord Rickard Stark. His figure sat with sword over his lap just like all the other Lords and Kings of Winter. At his side was a large direwolf, based mostly on the statues already in the crypt. No one had seen an actual direwolf in centuries, not south of the Wall.

The facial features were set in a stern look, not quite a frown but almost. His father had once remarked this was his father's normal face, as Lord Rickard seemed to rarely smile. Jon thought that was sad, as his father, Eddard, also rarely smiled. Maybe he was trying to be like his father, southern alliances and all.

"I'm leaving," he spoke suddenly, surprising himself with his sudden need to explain his reasons to someone. Even if they were dead. "I know many will think it cravenly. Yet, I cannot fathom staying another day here. I tried for so long to hold on, to keep going for those members of my family that love me unconditionally. But it's become too much. I can't stay here and let them break me, let them turn me into something I am not." A small self-deprecating smirk curled his lip. "I guess this is what everyone wanted anyway. I'm a stain on House Stark, but I won't be any more."

"You are not a stain on our house."

Jon froze, fear clenching his stomach. His father was here? He had come back? How? Slowly he turned ready to face the man he had loved and looked up to all his life, ready for the disappointment and anger at learning his bastard son was running away. Only it was not his father he found waiting for him.

It was Lord Rickard Stark.