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Chapter 20: Woe to the Once and Never King- Ned IX; Jon XIX; Valerica I; Serana II

Notes:

1) So I'm pretty damn proud of this chapter and I think you all will like it. But, if you could all do me a favor, keep an 'oh shit' tally and report your findings in the comments below. It'll be used for research purposes.

2) TRIGGER WARNING: There will be a discussion of Serana's r*pe at the hands of Molag Bal in the first part of Jon's section. It is non-graphic and fairly indirection but I wanted to warn everyone.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Timeline

283 AC/4E 187: Robb Stark is born; (two months later) "Jon Snow" is born.286 AC/4E 190: Sansa Stark is born; RS-3, "JS"-3.289 AC/4E 193: Arya Stark is born; Theon Greyjoy (10) arrives at Winterfell; RS-6, "JS"-6, SS-3.290 AC/4E 194: Bran Stark is born; TG-11, RS-7, "JS"-7, SS-4, AS-1.295 AC/4E 199: Rickon Stark is born; TG-16, RS-12, "JS"-12, SS-9, AS-6, BS-5.296 AC/4E 200: Direwolves are found; TG-17, RS-13, "JS"-13, SS-10, AS-7, BS-6, RS-1.297 AC/4E 201: Robb Stark turns 14; (two months later) "Jon Snow" turns 14; (one month later) "Jon Snow" runs away from Winterfell/appears in Skyrim; TG-18, SS-11, AS-8, BS-7, RS-2.299 AC/4E 203: Jon Whitewolf sends a letter to Winterfell; TG-19, RS-16, JW-16, SS-13, AS-10, BS-9, RS-4.300 AC/4E 204: Lord Eddard Stark asks Jon to return to Winterfell; TG-20, RS-17, JW-17, SS-14, AS-11, BS-10, RS-5.302 AC/4E 206: Jon Whitewolf receives Arya's letter: TG-22, RS-18, JW-18, SS-16, AS-13, BS-12, RS-7.(Two-and-a-half months later) Jon Whitewolf arrives at Winterfell: TG-22, RS-18, JW-18, SS-16, AS-13, BS-12, RS-7.(Four days later) Robb Stark turns 19: TG-22, RS-19, JW-18, SS-16, AS-13, BS-12, RS-7.(Two weeks later) Jon Whitewolf (18) leaves for KL with Enzo, Ned Stark, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, and the royal party.(Two weeks later) Jon Whitewolf (18), the Starks, and the royal party are attacked while at the Triton.(Two weeks later) Jon Whitewolf (18), the Starks, and the royal party arrive at King's Landing. (Three days later) the Tourney of the Hand begins.(Five days later) Serena arrives at the Red Keep.(Ten days later) King Robert Dies

Ned IX

Lord Stark,

The untimely death of the king has left things in a state of unrest. Unless we do something, Joffrey will soon sit the throne -an idea I'm sure neither of us wishes to ponder too deeply. I fear Jon Arryn may attempt to stop it on his own to disastrous consequences. But he is not the only one in danger. The Lannisters have no love for me and I'm that they will waste no time disposing of me once they have no one to check their power. You have my support, Lord Stark. Tell me where and when and I'll be there to help in any way I can.

The letter was signed with only a crude drawing of a Mockingbird sigil. 

Ned read it over once more and growled, crumpling it into a ball and tucking it away. He'd found the letter had been tucked into one of his boots this morning. He hated King's Landing, hated everything about it, and he hated that every word in the letter was probably right. 

The week since his best friend's death had passed slowly for Ned, who moved through the days as if in a haze... just going through the motions. He'd been a lucky man for most of his life; growing up, aside from the loss of his mother, those around Ned had been healthy and strong. For the past nineteen years, he'd been luckier still as his wife had survived the birthing bed five times with little issue and, unlike so many other fathers, never had to bury a single child. 

Yes, it seemed as if the gods decided to deal Ned most of his pain in one fell swoop, taking the lion's share of family and friends in just a few short years. Then Jon ran off and he was viciously reminded of how painful it was to lose a loved one. The pain had nearly broken him then and now, with the loss of Robert, it was back -raw and bloody as ever. 

"We'll need to have golden drapery installed, of course, and they'll need to be silk," the Queen... or rather the Dowager Queen instructed a haggard-looking servant. "This is to be my son's coronation; I will accept nothing but the best, do you understand?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," the servant replied passively. "And the turkeys have arrived for the feast; the cooks are waiting until the last moment to butcher them until the last moment so they will be fresh."

Queen Cersei shot the man a horribly nasty look, "Turkey? You think I'd serve something so... common as turkey at my son's coronation feast?"

"But-"

"Peafowl, you imbecile!" she shouted. "I ordered peafowl! Now fix it immediately or I'll have you whipped and then thrown out onto the streets!"

Ned rolled his eyes and slinked away so as to avoid being caught up in the woman's tirade, leaving his early morning breakfast unfinished. She'd spoken of little else since the bells at the Sept of Baelor had first tolled to signal Robert's death, irate at the High Septim's instance of adhering to the practice of, in a time of peace, waiting until the previous king had been properly laid to rest before crowning the new ruler. 

Even at Robert's admittedly overly ostentatious funeral, the queen had worn a gown than was more gold than black and had yet to cut her hair as was expected for a woman in mourning. 

'Mourning, ha,' he thought spitefully, returning to his quarters, folding up some clothing and tucking it away. 'That woman can't even help her own children deal with their father's death, let alone fake sadness herself. Though our supposed future king seems to be following her example, so I suppose that I know now where he gets it from.'

Unlike his siblings, who seemed legitimately sad their distant father who gone, Joffrey had only spent roughly half a day in an odd sort of silence before returning to his regular self; only now he wore smugness and arrogance openly like he never had before, strutting about like a rooster and demanding to be addressed as 'King Joffrey' or 'Your Majesty' despite having not yet been crowned. 

Ned had watched on with disdain and worry; no longer did he have the time to carefully maneuver pieces into place to get the golden cuckoo removed from his position before he could take the throne and do even more damage. He had to work fast and hit hard, but how... 

"Lord Stark?"

Ned jumped, startled with a hand going for a sword that wasn't there, and turned to see Lord Varys standing at his doorway. 

"How did you get in here?" he demanded. 

The man closed the door behind him. "A spider goes where he wishes, Lord Stark; you are an intelligent enough man to know that."

Ned scowled, "There doesn't explain why you've come to my quarters."

"Merely to offer you advice," the Master of Whispers said passively.

The Lord of Winterfell was done; he was sick of King's Landing, sick of the lies and the trickery, sick of the deceit and the manipulation. "Then speak plainly and be done with it! I have no time for double-speak! My oldest friend is dead and now I must plan the trip back to my home."

"Excellent, I would recommend you make these plans as soon as possible," Lord Varys nodded approvingly, to Ned's surprise.

"W-what?"

The Lord of Whispers picked up a small stone carving of a wolf, turning it over in his hands. "Am I correct in my assumption that you were initially planning to leave after the coronation?"

If Ned has his way, there would be no coronation at all but he still wasn't sure how to make that a reality but he gave a stiff, reluctant nod.

That spurred the man to continue on. "A little bird has told me that the Queen is planning on publically proposing a marriage between her son and your eldest daughter at the coronation feast."

Ned froze, a public proposal from the new king in front of many other lords and ladies was a harsh move; it would be almost impossible to turn it down without risking royal outrage. 

"I believe that she is under the assumption that his reign will be more absolute with a wife by his side," Lord Varys hummed. "I'm sure you're thrilled at the idea; to become Queen is every little girl's dream and, considering Lady Sansa's age and lack of proper betrothal, it will stop all the waggling tounges that have been going on about her."

'Horrid witch,' Ned thought viciously, 'trying to use my own children to control me.'

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he addressed the Master of Whispers calmly. "Thank you for that information, Lord Varys; I will take it into consideration."

"Of course," the man nodded and took his leave. "Have a lovely evening, Lord Stark."

Ned walked him out and watched as the silk-clad spider vanished into the twisting corridors of the Red Keep before hurriedly locking the door. "Sansa! Arya!"

The two girls stumbled out of their shared bedroom; Sansa already washed and dressed for the day with her hair half pinned up and Arya still in her nightgown and looking as if she just rolled out of bed. She gave him a blurry, gray-eyed squint and mumbled, "Whasgoinon?"

"Start packing your things, now," he commanded, "I'm sending you both back to Winterfell immediately."

Sansa's eyes went wide, "What?!"

Ned grabbed a cloak that had been draped over an armchair, tucking it under his arm. "Listen-"

"What about Joffrey?" Sansa cut in, going pale. "What about the coronation? It is happening tomorrow! We can't just leave!"

"Did something happen with Robb or Mother?" Arya asked, now far more awake than she had been just a moment ago. "Is that why you're sending us home?"

"What?" Ned asked, confused. "No!"

Actually, Catelyn hadn't written him a single letter and Robb's had been short, direct little things, so, for all he knew, Winterfell could have been overrun with squishers and he wouldn't know.

"Please don't make me leave, Father," Sansa pleaded. "Please don't! I have to stay!"

For once, the two Stark sisters actually agreed on something because Arya piped up with, "You can't send me back! I've followed all your rules! I've got my... dancing lessons; I'm finally getting good at them too!"

Ned fought back a frustrated growl. "This isn't a punishment, for  either of you. I am sending you both back in Winterfell for your own safety. I'm staying for now but I'll explain more to you both. I'll be right behind you after I take care of some important business here in the capital."

With his children out of harm's way, he could do what needed to be done. Ned refused to lose anyone else he loved. 

"Can't we take Syrio back with us?" Arya asked. "I'm sure he won't mind; he likes visiting new places."

"Who cares about your stupid dancing teacher?" Sansa hissed at her younger sister before turning back to Ned. "I can't go! I refuse to go! I  need to stay! I'm supposed to marry Prince Joffrey! I love him and he loves me! I'm meant to be his queen and have his babies! If I don't stay then some other tramp will steal him from me!"

Arya rolled her eyes, annoyed, "Seven hells…" 

Her remark got a vicious glare from Sansa but Ned didn't care enough to comment on it. 

He laid a patient hand on his eldest daughter's shoulder. "I understand you're upset, Sansa, but a marriage between you and Joffrey would just be ill-fitted. Now, I promise that when things are settled I'll make you a match with someone who's worthy of you, someone who's brave and gentle and strong-"

"I don't  want someone brave and gentle and strong," Sansa wailed. "I want him!  I want Joffrey!"

Arya giggled at the outburst and what her sister unintentionally said while Ned found himself rolling his eyes, exasperated.

The eldest Stark daughter pressed on with her plea. "Joffrey will be the greatest king that there ever was, great enough that Aegon the Conqueror will just be a footnote in history! Songs will be sung of him, a great golden lion, and I will be his queen! I  want to marry Joffrey and give him sons with beautiful blond hair, Father, please don't make me leave!

"The lion's not his sigil, idiot," Arya sneered. "He's a stag, like his father, and I doubt your kids will have blond hair."

"No, he is  not ," Sansa insisted, all but stamping her foot. "Joffrey is nothing like that old drunk king! He is-"

" SANSA! " Ned thundered, biting his fury back with all his might as he aimed an angry finger at his daughter's face. With a deadly calm voice he growled out, "I have put up with your disobedience and… disrespect for long enough. Now, clearly, you didn't learn a thing from your last punishment so let me be very clear -I am your father and your lord. You will do as I say without question and if I hear one more argument or insult from you than I'll ship you off to join the Silent Sisters. Do you understand me?"

Fury burning in her Tully blue eyes -gods, she looked so much like Cat- Sansa gave a stiff, silent nod. 

"Good," he nodded, taking a deep breath and straightening himself. "Go on, girls. Get your septa and start packing your things. I need to speak to your brother before we leave."

Arya gave him a pleading look, "What about Syrio, can he come with us?"

Mind already miles away, Ned waved off the question, "I suppose that is fine, so long as he agrees and can be ready to leave soon."

"Okay," she chirped before grabbing her sister by the arm and dragging her back to their bedroom. "Come on! It'll take a day just to pack your dresses!"

Ned watched them go and, just as the door swung shut, heard Sansa yell, "But it's not fair!"

'No, no it's not,'  he thought grimly, 'but life rarely is.'  

Jon XIX

"You're brooding again."

Jon gave a chuckle, starting out onto King's Landing as he stood by his open window and enjoyed the brisk, late-morning breeze. "According to some people, that is my natural state."

Serana laughed, coming up behind Jon to give him a hug and cup of tea. He felt her cool lips against his shoulder and smelt the lily soap she used to wash her hair; Jon also felt that the woman was only wearing one of his thin nightshirts. 

'Keep your head on straight,'  he reminded himself. 

"What is on your mind?" Serana asked, still lingering close with one hand gently curled around his elbow. 

Jon bit his lip, uncertainty rolling over in his mind. "Just thinking about time and, no matter how long you live, there never seems to be enough to do what you need to. I mean, Miraak lived, if you can call it that, for so long and never accomplished his goals... Which is a good thing, of course, but still..."

"You don't need to tell me that. I was alive for twenty-one years, undead for centuries, and yet only tried a jazbay crostata for the first time two years ago," Serana reminded him. "Something tells me that this is more about the idea of leaving for home with business unfinished and mysteries unsolved."

Serana's words rang painfully true, as they usually did, and Jon gave his quarters a once-over; they were starkly bare, most of his possession having already been taken to the docks to be loaded onto the Bell Singer, Adelaisa's personal ship. Even Sweet Roll and Ghost had decided that they'd rather say on the ship until it was time to leave, preferring the open harbor air instead of being cramped up in Jon's quarters. He paused a moment to be grateful he had such devoted -and powerful- friends before sighing. 

Jon just hoped Adelaisa wasn't serious about trying to keep Phantasm.

"I'm at a loss of what to do, Serana," he admitted. "This isn't a problem I can just... stab away. I've been going over the options in my head, over and over again; I keep trying to find a way I can do what is needed without anyone getting hurt but I can't see a way out this time."

"You could always take the throne yourself," Serana offered, cocking an eyebrow.

Jon rolled his eyes, "Don't joke about things like that. It is bad enough that Elisif has decided to make me her heir, I don't even want to think about ruling Westeros."

"Hey," Serana said, turning his face towards her and staring deep into his eyes, "you don't have to do anything, Jon; you don't own this land or it's people anything. Maybe you think you do, maybe you think that you owe it something because of Robert's Rebellion, but you don't. As for your family... 10,000 gold dragons more than pays back anything you might have ever owed them. We could all just leave in two days -you, me, mother, Enzo, and the animals- and never look back. Let Westeros devour itself, you've saved enough people to start living for yourself."

Turning his head, Jon pressed a feather-light kiss into the vampiress' smooth, strong palm. "I think we both know that I'm not one to leave well enough alone."

Serana sighed but smiled softly, "Of course not... That is the thing I love the most about you."

He froze, "...Love? Do you mean as a friend or..."

"You're a smart man, Jon," Serana said with a humorless chuckle, pulling away to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm sure it's not that hard to figure out."

Jon was a smart man. He'd studied just about every subject known to man, mer, and beastfolk; he also had his fair share of lovers and -occasionally unnerving- love confessions. But this was the one that left his mind whirling; most of the people he slept with he had liked, of course, and been attracted to -hells, he may have even grown to love a few- but, in the end, it was just for the fun of it. This was different.

"Y...you always said that you weren't interested in relationships or marriage," he said, sitting down a few feet away from Serana. "I thought that applied to me as well."

"It did at first," the vampiress admitted, dragging a hand through her hair. "First you were a useful stranger, then you were my friend, and then... I start to feel something more."

'So did I, but, for me, it started almost immediately,' Jon thought to himself. "Why didn't you ever say anything? You had to have known that I... I mean, Enzo says I'm not exactly subtle."

"Because I didn't know how to deal with them!" Serana declared. "Because I can't give you children, something I know you desperately want! Because I'll out-live you! Because part of me is bro-"

The dark-haired woman cut herself off with a hard wince, rubbing her face hard and looking like she was struggling not to tear up. Hesitantly, Jon put a hand on Serana's shoulder and said slowly, "You said that I should live for myself... and someone recently advised me that everyone should get to try to be happy. So, maybe, we could try both of those things... together."

Serana turned to him, glowing crimson eyes surprisingly soft. "I... I'd like that."

Jon let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and his heart skipped a beat. With a reassuring smile, he slid his hand from Serana's shoulder up to cut her face. Then slowly, so she'd have time to pull away, he leaned in and kissed her. 

It was a soft, simple kiss; it was more of a kiss shared by nervous young sweethearts than that of two grown adults but it felt right that way."

"Wow," Serana breathed after he pulled back.

"Is that a good wow or a bad wow?"

"Good, good," the vampiress reassured. "Could we do... a little more?"

"I'd like that."

So Jon kissed Serana again. Then he kissed her once more. Then he kissed her many more times. Jon kissed her lips. He kissed her forehead. He kissed her cheek. He kissed her jaw. He kissed her neck. 

Jon was pressing hot, opened-mouth kisses into Serana's neck, holding the vampiress in a close embrace as she tugged at his hair with one hand and gripped his shoulder tight with the other. He sucked on what would be her pulse point, making Serana moan, and smiled into her skin. Feeling bold, Jon began to nose at the collar of the loose nightshirt, running his lips along her collarbone. 

"STOP!" 

Jon has immediately shoved away, falling onto the floor as Serana bolted up and turning away from him. Getting to his feet, he took a hesitant step forward with his hands raised. "What's wrong? Did I-"

"No no no, it has nothing to do with you!" Serana groaned, arms pulled, and face twisted with regret. "That was... fantastic, I swear. It was just that, when you started to start to go under my shirt, all I could think of was..."

Her voice faded out as Serana crumpled in on herself and slumped to the floor, back against the bed. Jon, very slowly, came to sit by his close friend and dear love. He understood and once again, wished so badly he had the power to take pain and fear and sadness away from others. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, you didn't do anything," she waved him off, rubbing her face. Serana sighed and looked away from him. "We've never really talked about... that, have we?" 

'That.'

The events surrounding Serana and her mother's transformation into vampires at the hands of Molag Bal was something Jon knew very little and yet all too much about. He'd seen the look of  absolute horror, of complete dread , that crossed her face when they'd passed that abandoned house in Markarth; even if Jon didn't know the whole story, that alone was more than enough to convince him to buy the property from old Logrolf the Willful for far more than it was worth -sending the old man off to live with Azzada Lylvieve and his family in Dragon Bridge- and then board it up as tight as possible. 

"You said it was degrading, that you didn't want to talk about it," he said. "I wanted to respect that." 

Serana let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "You want to know the worst part? It wasn't the pain; I went numb eventually. It wasn't the injuries, those went away after some time. It's not the scars that still haven't healed."

Jon glanced down at the five scars that were still red and raised on Serana's pale tight, like some clawed beast had tried to rip the skin open, but said nothing as she continued. 

"The worst pair is that I lost the ability to choose! I lose the ability to choose to lose my maidenhood, to be comfortable with others, to enjoy being touched. After it happened, I couldn't look at myself in the mirror for three years; I used to change in the dark so I didn't have to see all the marks Molag Bal left on me! For so long, the idea of being touched made me want to vomit! And now that I have someone I want to be with, I can't!"

Jon didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. Serana hated meaningless platitudes and Jon was never one to give them; it was part of the reason they understood each other so well. 

"I don't want you to pity me," she said sternly. "I don't want you... committing to anything because you feel bad for me. I'm not that selfish."

"Well, maybe I am!" he declared. "I don't pity you, Serana. I wish that hadn't happened to you, that you hadn't been hurt like that, but you're one of the strongest people I know. To pity you would be to disrespect that strength and I would never do that. If I stay with you it is because I want to be... if you'll still have me that is."

Serana gave Jon one of those... intense looks that were warm and sad at the same time. Then she just laughed and slumped warm against his side. "You really are a strange one, Jon Whitewolf," she said, taking his hand. 

They sat in comfortable, blushing silence for a long while before a thought crossed Jon's mind, causing him to let out an amused snort. When Serana gave him a questioning look, he explained through a sneaky grin, "When Enzo finds out, he is going to be unbearably smug; he's been saying how we should just get together for months now."

"Oh, gods," Serana rolled his eyes, "we're never going to hear the end of it, are we? Well, if nothing else now he doesn't have to worry about you sleeping with Sanguine again."

"Agghhh," Jon groaned loudly, covering his bright red face with his hands. "None of you will ever let me forget that, will you? It was just one night, for crying out loud!"

"One night and three times," she teased.

"I was drunk!" he complained. "And how do you know that?"

"He brags! Not to mention he tried to leave his mark on your a-"

Jokingly, Jon covered Serana's mouth to cut her off, causing her to lick his palm and nibble at his middle finger. He jerked his hand back, wiping it on the leg of his trousers, and the two devolved into fits of laughter, falling together. Once that subsided, Jon sighed into Serana's hair, "Speaking of Enzo, I promised to find him in the east courtyard after I finish my meeting with the Tarlys. He wants to take me out into the city one last time before we leave, says he has something he wants to show me."

"Oh right," Serana nodded, "that's today. Well, here is hoping it goes well your new friend can come back with us. I just hope there is room on the ship for him with all of Mother's plant clippings."

"That reminds me," Jon said, rising to his feet and going for his boots, "would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Can you round up my sisters and bring them back to my room? I have something I want to give them before we leave."

"No problem," Serana shrugged. "I just need to get dressed first."

"Good, now let's cross our fingers and hope today goes smoothly."

"Oh, I can't do this," Sam fretted as he paced back and forth, wringing his hands together.

Jon stopped him with a hand on the shoulder, "Calm down, just keep your chin up and follow my lead; everything will be fine."

Sam shook his head, "You don't know my father."

"Maybe not," he admitted, "but, based on what everyone has told me, I've known plenty of men like him and, trust me, they're not that difficult to play. Everything will be alright; if you get nervous that just... picture your father in his smallclothes."

"I don't want to imagine that!"

Jon rolled his eyes, "Then imagine him as a baby or dressed as a woman. Do whatever you must to keep calm and steady; think of your father like he's a horse, he'll bolt if you show fear."

Sam shook his head and opened his mouth to argue when the door to the Tarly's quarters was opened and a servant ushered the pair in. 

"Take a deep breath and stand up straight," he whispered to his friend, pinching Sam in the side to stop him from slouching. Then he plastered a broad smile on his face as he came face-to-face with the Lord and Lady of Horn Hill.

"Lord Tarly, Lady Tarly," he greeted, respectfully kissing the back of Melessa Florent's hand and not mentioning when Randyll Tarly didn't offer a hand to shake. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance." 

"So this is the winner of the tourney?" the older man asked dismissively, giving Jon a judgmental once over. "I expected someone taller."

The Lord of Horn Hill was a lean, balding man with a short, bristly grey beard and shrewd look in his eyes.

In contrast, his wife was warm and friendly-looking with kind eyes and a plump face. "Your victory was quite impressive, Ser Jon. Though the incident with arm was quite worrying, gave my poor daughters a fright."

"My armor took the worse of it, thank the gods," Jon explained with a smile. "Your son did quite well, too."

"Oh, thank you," Melessa replied at the same time her husband gave a grunt.

"Dickon didn't win," he grumbled, "didn't even get to the final round."

Jon gave a shrug, "Perhaps, but he lost to Sandor Clegane and there is no shame in that, he is an accomplished warrior after all. Maybe your son will be able to learn from this failure?"

Lord Tarly rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Alright, enough with the pleasantries. I was forced into this meeting by that old hag but I refuse to waste any more of my time than I have to, so say what you must."

Jon appreciated straight talk as much as any other man but, at a certain point, it just turned to rudeness. Keeping the smile fixed on his face, he nodded, "Yes, of course. The reason I asked you to meet with is that I thought we should speak face-to-face before Samwell departs with me back to Skyrim."

"WHAT?"

The husband and wife both went wide-eyed and slacked jawed -it was actually quite comical, Jon fought the urge to snicker- at the news. 

"Uh... yes," Sam nodded quickly. "Jon and I have become friends over the past few weeks, we share many interests. We were talking about his return to Skyrim and asked if I wanted to come with him. After some thought, I have agreed."

"Th- this is very sudden," Lady Tarly sputtered, eyes already starting to shine with tears. "You know no one in this strange land, Sammy, how will you care for yourself?"

"I have considerable assets and connections," Jon cut in, proud at how Sam managed to steer the conversation. "We've already decided that Sam can stay with me until he can get himself settled, which I will help him with, so that is no issue. Skyrim is a dangerous land though, so I will be teaching him to defend himself."

"Good luck with that," Randyll Tarly grunted under her breath before turning his cold eyes to his eldest son. "So you've decided to turn your back on the commitment you've made to the Night's Watch? Why am I not surprised."

Of a brief, worrying moment, Jon was sure that Sam would collapse in on himself and break under the pressure; but, to his surprise, the other young man took a deep and sat up straighter. "Well, I chose to join the Night's Watch because we both know that life as a lord was ill-suited for me but, now that I've given it some thought, neither would life at the Wall. This way I can explore the world in a way no Tarly ever has before but still leave Dickon free to inherit Horn Hill without issue."

"Oh, speaking of Dickon," Jon cut in, ready to lay down his trump card, "Sam mentioned that you were hoping to find a new sword instructor for him. If you'd like, I speak with Ser Jaime; I cannot promise anything, but perhaps I can convince him to take your son on as a student... if that is agreeable."

Lord Tarly scowled even deeper but Jon could the wheels turning in his head; the chance for his ideal heir to study under one of the greatest swordsmen in Westeros was right in front of him and all he had to do it get it was let the son he hated go... 

"What a lovely offer; thank you, young man," Lady Melessa said, smiling sweetly. Then her face turned sad and she reached out to clasp her eldest son's hand. "Are you sure this is what you want, Sam? Are you sure this will make you happy?"

It took Sam a moment but, eventually, he nodded, "I do, Mother. It will be difficult, going so far always from you, Talla, and the others, but I think this is how I can become my own man. It will be hard, I'm under no delusions about that, but most things in life worth having are hard to get."

"Alright then," the woman said, taking in a deep, shaky breath, "you have my blessing."

The mother and son then turned to Lord Tarly as Jon watched on. The man gritted his jaw, eyes flickering to both of them, and grumbled out, "I see no good reason to stop you, but there are a few more things we need to discuss... as a family."

He then shot Jon a look that very clearly said, 'get out' and the young Dragonborn saw no need to argue, feeling content that this battle was won.

"I'll take my leave then," he declared, heading for the door. "I'm sure you all have much to discuss, goodbyes to say and all that."

Then Jon left the room, triumphant grin on his face.

"Ser Jon?"

Jon opened his eyes and lifted his head from where he'd been leaning it against a stone wall; he hadn't slept well the previous night, too many worries and pressures whirling about in head, and was hoping to rest his eyes before meeting up with Enzo later. 

"Lord Varys, is there something I can help you with?" he asked, given the strange man a quizzical once over. 

The Master of Whispers had seemed to forgo his usual layers of colorful silken garments for a more subdued outfit of thick dark cloth complete with a hood. He took a step closer to Jon and let his voice drop low. "I just wanted to say my goodbyes for now."

'For now?' Jon cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, so you heard I was leaving soon?"

"I did," the bald man nodded. "We have that in common, strangely enough."

"Is that so?"

Another nod. "Indeed. I've decided that it is time to take a little vacation, perhaps enjoy a bit of time in the countryside. I would usually not do so at such a strained time the kingdom, but things are getting so...  messy ."

The warm blood running through Jon's blood froze.  'He knows something...'

Swallowing hard, he forced out, "Ah, I can imagine; anything involving a new ruler taking the throne is always...  messy . When will you be leaving?"

"As soon as possible, I'm afraid," the Spider replied passively. "I don't want to be in the way when the Queen tries to clean things up. She is so excited for her son to become king, I imagine she'll react poorly to anything that potentially  hinders her plans."

Jon gave a stiff nod, the worst-case scenario already playing though his mind. "Thank you for telling me, Lord Varys. I hope all goes well with your journey."

"And yours as well," the Master of Whispers commented as he slunk back into the shadows, vanishing from sight. 

"Fuck!" Jon hissed, pushing a hand through his hair as he rolled off the bench he'd been sitting on and to his feet and started toward the courtyard he was meeting Enzo at. 

"Jon!"

A hand landed on the young Dragonborn's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks; Jon spun around, hackles raised, and ready to span the neck of his 'attacker.' Thankfully, he wasn't too eager though, as he would have ended up killing a smiling Samwell Tarly.

"Where were you running off to?" the other young man asked, amused.

"I... just have to find Enzo," Jon said, glancing over his friend's shoulder, ensuring himself that Sam hadn't been followed. "What do you need?"

"Uh, nothing... I just wanted to thank you for all your help," Sam answered, confusion playing across his face. "Everything went well, my father has agreed to let me go with you; he is even giving me some coin to see me off. You were right; asking in front of my mother really got to him."

Then he gave a sad sigh, "Mother cried and kept hugging me, talking about how grown up her little boy was. It was hard to see her like that and I regret that I'm not going to be able to see my younger sisters grow, but I'm excited about this new chapter in my life. So, again, thank you."

Jon gave a distracted nod, still looking around -every hair on his body on end. "You're welcome."

Sam gave him a concerned look, "Jon, is everything alright?"

"Oh... yes... of cour-" Jon cut himself off with a deep sigh, shutting his eyes and rubbing his face. 'I really shouldn't, but I can let them stay.'

He grabbed Sam tight by the shoulders and stared him down. "Listen to me, Sam; things have changed and you need to get your family out of the city right now. Don't tell anyone that you're going, don't take anything that isn't of the utmost of importance; just gather your people, get what you need, and get out of the city immediately."

Sam tried to pull away, only for Jon to squeeze his fleshy shoulders harder. "Jon, what are you talking about?"

"I can't explain right now," Jon said, shaking his head. "But I have good reason to believe that everyone is in danger and that includes you and your family. I know it sounds like madness but I need you to trust me right now!"

"I do, Jon. I do," his friend assured, terror creeping into his eyes, "but what should I say to my father?"

"Whatever you need to."

Sam gave a desperate shake of his head, "No, he'll never listen to me... At least not without a good reason."

"Then you make him listen!" Jon instructed. "Say whatever you need to say; I don't care what you tell them -outright lie if you must- but get them out. Can you do this for me?"

There was an audible gulp from beneath Sam's wobbly chin but he nodded. "Alright," he breathed, "alright, I'll do it."

When Jon neared the courtyard, he was greeted by the sounds of Enzo grunting. He rushed forward, desperately hoping he wasn't about to find his friend fighting off hoards of Lannister guards with a rake. 

Rounding the corner, he let a relieved sigh when he saw that the grunts were just Enzo wrestling with Nymeria. "Enzo, why are you harassing my sister's direwolf?"

"Gah, you will not best me, mighty beast!" the Ebony Warrior declared, scratching Nymeria vigorously behind the ears as she playfully gnawed at his wrist. Glancing up at Jon, the older man smiled, "I like this one! Ghost is always so serious -which I blame you for-, but she likes playing around. Where can I get my own one?"

Despite everything, Jon snorting in amusement. "Direwolves don't come south of the Wall, ours were an abnormality. Unc... Father-" he glanced around, paranoid someone was watching them "-was always very careful to keep our direwolves away from the regular hounds growing up, not wanting any mixed-breeds running around causing trouble. I tried to follow his example but I think Ghost managed to get a litter on Winter back at Heljarchen Hall; you're welcome to one of the pups when we get back."

"Oh, so we are leaving soon?" Enzo asked. "No more delays?"

"Quite the opposite."

Enzo raised his eyebrows and sat up, prompting Jon to come closer; he crouched down, acting if he was just interested in playing with Nymeria as well.

"We need to leave, as soon as possible," Jon whispered, rubbing the direwolf under her chin. "How soon can you get your things together?"

"I travel light and most of my possessions are already on the ship," the older man answered simply. "What is going on?"

"The details are foggy," Jon admitted, "but I'm willing to bet my fortune that King's Landing is soon going to be very dangerous for anyone that isn't a friend of House Lannister. I'm going to talk with my family, grab my stuff together, then get Serana and her mother so we can be on way as soon as possible."

"That is not good," Enzo groaned, rubbing his chin with a pensive look in his dark eyes. "It makes sense though, the Harpy Queen wants to ensure her false gold cuckoo takes the throne with little impediment; she seems foolish enough to shed blood to see it happen."

His friend's words rang true in Jon's mind... in fact, they rang too true. A fresh wave of dread filled his stomach, "And ruthless enough to get rid of anyone or anything that may reveal her secret."

Enzo's eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment before his eyes went wide. "Fuck!" he hissed, "King Sload's actually children... do you think that she would really-"

"I don't want to risk it," Jon shook his head. "They could be in danger; we need to get them out of the city too. How did the mother's response to you and Lady Valerica?"

"Well, they understandably did not take kindly to some strange man asking about their sons but they took to Lady Poison much better-" Jon gave a brief thought to if Valerica took the time to endear herself naturally or if she just hypnotized the mothers into telling her what she wanted to know; then he decided this wasn't the time. "-and were more willing to work with her."

"Enough to leave the city with us?"

Enzo looked unconvinced, "I do not know... but if they believe their children are in danger than they might."

"Good, good," Jon mumbled to himself, already reworking his escape plan to include these children and their mothers. 

"I can retrieve the children from Flea Bottom; they know my face already and should be more willing to listen," Enzo offered, rising to his feet.

"Sounds fair, I'll go collect Gendry, Jon, and Mhaegen," he nodded, already heading for one of the courtyard exits. 'We can't waste a single moment; if we're luck than I'm just overreacting but if I'm not...'

Jon's thoughts were cut off when he and Enzo rounded a corner and nearly bumped into his uncle. 

"Jon? Where are you going off to in such a hurry?" the man asked, looking fairly haggard himself. "Actually, never mind. You and your sister need to leave the city immediately; I'm having them pack their things up and-"

"Wait, what? Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" Jon demanded, confusion outweighing his relief that he wouldn't have to spend hours convincing the Lord of Winterfell to cut and run. 

Uncle Ned shook his head quickly, gripping Jon by the shoulders. "Now is not the time to explain. You all need to get out of King's Landing. It's not safe anymore. I hate to ask but I need you to take your sisters out of the city on your ship and to a friendly port; I understand if you can non personally escort them to White Harbor but just getting them on a ship you trust would mean the world to me."

"Yes... of course, you know that I'd protect Arya with my life," Jon blinked. "But what about you? Are you coming with us?"

"No, I'll be staying for a little while."

" What? " Jon repeated, already having a sinking suspicion on where this was going. 

"Look, I can't explain now but-" 

"Well, find a way to do so," Enzo snapped.

Uncle Ned gave a frustrated sigh before looking around nervously and waving them all into a small alcove. " Listen , it is very complicated but I have reason to believe that the royal children are not Robert's-"

"You figured that out too?" Enzo asked sounding legitimately surprised. "You are not as dim as I thought."

"Thank you," Uncle Ned replied, waving off the insult. "How did you two know that the children were illegitimate?"

'Long, complicated story,' Jon thought. Instead, he just shrugged, "None of the three look the slightest bit like the king despite the Baratheon line typically having dominant features like dark hair. It was just simple deduction."

Uncle Ned let out a tight breath, saying mostly to himself. "You can't be the only one who figured that out." Then he shook his head, pulling his attention back to Jon and Enzo. "The Lannisters would do whatever it takes to remain in power; they'll kill anyone that stands in their way, they have before and wouldn't hesitate to do it again."

"I know, including killing Lord Stannis and poisoning Lord Arryn," Jon said simply. 'When did he learn all of this?'

A look of absolute shock crossed Uncle Ned's face, "You knew-"

"Assume we know everything you do and more," Enzo stated. 

"I-"

"Never mind any of that," Jon said, cutting his uncle off. "You know Joffrey and the other royal children are illegitimate, what are planning to do about it?"

"Joffrey cannot be allowed to take the throne, there is no question about it," his uncle said seriously. "After you all are safe and out of harm's way, I am going to declare my suspicions. I'm going to do it at the coronation, in front of the High Septon and all of the royal court; by making such a public spectacle, the Faith will be forced to investigate my claims and with all eyes on me, the Lannisters won't be able to discreetly get rid of me without drawing doubt."

'Okay, so he has actually given this some thought,'  Jon reassured himself. But still... "Alright, do you have any proof you can present to the Faith or Court?"

Uncle Ned shifted uncomfortably, "No... not quite. There is the children's appearance, obviously but-"

"But that is hardly proof," Enzo pointed out. "Only one of your children looks all that much like you, Lord of Winter. One could easily use the same argument to accuse your own wife of infidelity."

"Do you have anything else?" Jon asked pointedly. "Do you have any idea of who the true father could be?"

"Someone above suspicion," his uncle declared. "Someone the Queen betted on her children not taking after."

"So you have nothing," the Ebony Warrior groaned, rubbing his face. 

Jon sighed and gave his uncle a desperate look, "What about allies? Do you have anyone who will back you up?'"

His uncle looked flustered, "Yes. Lord Baelish has agreed to stand with me; Jon and Lord Stannis also had the same suspicion of the royal children's parentage. Their words will hold sway."

Enzo looked incredulous, "So you have a dead man, a nearly dead man, and a man many likely wish was dead? That is very reassuring."

The Lord of Winterfell shot the giant Redguard a scathing glare but Jon just sighed once more, yanking at his curls and feeling disappointed in the man he once admired above all other. "What  in the world makes you think Baelish is someone you can trust?"

"I don't trust  him ," Uncle Ned scoffed. "I trust that he'll put his own self-preservation above anything else; the Lannisters are no friend of his either."

Okay, so there was sense to that but, once more, the Quiet Wolf made the mistake of believing the best in people. 

"Littlefinger made his money off of other people's pain," Jon hissed. "If it benefits him than he'll throw you into the fire without batting an eyelash! If you trust him to have your back than he'll use you as a shield! If you let him stand with you then he'll put a blade at your neck! You cannot trust him!"

"Jon, would you  just- " the Lord of Winterfell gave a frustrated growled and threw his hands up. "I understand that you think very little of me but I beg of you to trust me on this. Now, I'm going to check to see if your sisters are ready to go. If you think I am capable of finding my way, please meet us at my chambers in an hour."

He then turned to leave... but Jon couldn't let him go. 

The paralyzation spell hit his uncle clear in the center of his back, freezing him in his tracks and forcing the man to tip forward, falling to the ground. 

Jon knelt by his uncle's side, turning him so he could look into the man's terrified eyes. "I'm sorry but I refuse to let you get our family killed. I'll explain everything later, after I make sure we're all safe."

"Leave your uncle to me," Enzo said, "I will get him to the ship and then go get the children. You go take care of your family and the ladies."

"But you things-"

Enzo shook his head, "I have my sword; my armor, Spector, and anything else of value is safe on the ship. The only thing in my quarters is some clothes, nothing I care about. Now, go on; who knows how much time we have."

'I don't know what I'd due without you, Enzo,' Jon thought with a soft smile as he nodded before crouching down in front of Nymeria.

The bond each Stark child had with their direwolf was an intensely personal thing but -even with this in mind- staring in Nymeria's dark gold eyes, Jon sensed that the she-wolf could understand him.

"I hate to ask this, but I need you to go with Enzo and Uncle Ned," Jon explained. "I know you don't want to leave Arya, but I swear she'll be alright."

Nymeria let out a long, low whine, seemingly unhappy about the idea, before giving Jon a long lick across the face and wagging her tail.

"Yes, thank you for that," he grumbled, wiping the wolf slobber off on his sleeve. Jon gave Nymeria a scratch behind the ears and one final nod to Enzo before turning and hurrying through the maze-like corridors of the Red Keep. 

Before long, he came across Jory, Wyl, and Heward who all looked confused yet tense. "Oh, excellent!" he said, skidding to a stop in front of them. "My father wanted me to find you all; That is a change of plans, he is coming with the rest of us. Is everything ready to leave?"

They glanced back and forth between themselves uneasily before Jory gave a nod. "Yes... the trunks are packed up and into a carriage. The horses are ready to go as well, Hullen and Harwin are with them. But, Jon,  what is going on?"

Jon shook his head, "It would take too long to explain. Go down and wait with the wagon; I'm worried someone will try to sabotage or stop us from leaving. I'm going to collect everyone; we'll join you shortly but, if we're not there in an hour, take everything down to the harbor."

The older men still looked unsure but eventually agreed.

"Stay safe, Jon. No one wants to lose you again so soon," Jory said, pulling him into a surprising hug before heading out with the other guards.

"You too," he replied. "Be vigilant, I have a bad feeling that things to come."

Jon watched them go, hoping this wouldn't be the last time he saw them all, before continuing on. He had to find Arya, Serana, and the others before it was too late. 

Jon rounded a corner, spied the back of Samwell Tarly, prompted seized him by his collar, and yank him away from the guard he was about to approach. He pulled his friend back around the corner and pressed him against the wall with an arm across his chest. Sam started to yelp, prompting Jon to slap a hand over his mouth and putting a finger up to his own, making the universal 'shhhhhh'  motion.

Sam gave a wide-eyed, wobbly nod and Jon pulled his hand away. "Jon, what is going on?"

"What are you still doing in the castle?" Jon hissed, glancing around the corner to ensure the guard was still standing there. "I told you to get your family out of here."

"I- I  did ," he exclaimed. "It took a bit to convince my father but they listened; I saw them off not too long ago."

"Were you met with any resistance?"

"No," Sam said, giving a confused shake of the head. "One of the guards asked where we were going but Father just told them to mind their own business and then they just waved us through. They're probably to the King's Gate by now."

"Good to know," Jon mumbled. 'The queen may not consider the Tarlys a threat...' 

Then he paused as a realization hit him, "Wait, what are you still doing here? Why didn't you go with them?"

"...because I'm going with you?" Sam replied questionably before seeming to deflate. "Unless... unless that isn't the plan anymore?"

"No. No, it's just-" Jon growled and rubbed his face. "Sorry... things are going mad right now and my mind is all over the place. Yes, of course, you're still coming with me. We'll need to hurry, c'mon; don't run, though, that always draws attention."

Jon led Sam through the small, darker servants corridors. Taking them made the trip to the Tower of the Hand much longer -the winding halls snaked there way around the main areas of the castle, designed so that the nobility wouldn't have to see those who served them -but it kept them away from any roving guard patrols. 

"Can you  finally tell me what is going on?" Sam begged, slightly panting from the half-jog he had to do to keep pace with Jon's fast strides. 

"It is a long, weird, complicated story," Jon replied, "but the long-and-sort of it is that the queen's children are almost certainly not Robert Baratheon's and the queen is going to do whatever it takes to ensure her rotten spawn sits on the throne... which includes taking care of anyone she thinks is a danger to that plan."

"You mean she is planning on  killing us?" Sam squeaked.

Jon shrugged, "Kill... take hostage... who knows? She may be planning on killing the ruling generation and taking the heirs hostage. I assume the queen believes that she might as well take advantage of having so many members of the nobility in easy reach."

"But could result in all-out war!" 

"I don't think she cares," Jon admitted. "Not so long as it gets Joffrey his crown."

Through the corridors, they went quick and quiet as thieves -well, Jon did; Sam wasn't really built for sneaking- and a passageway let them out only a short staircase away from the Hand of the King's bed-chambers. 

"Wait here," he instructed. "I'm going to go get Lord Arryn and hopefully we can be gone before anyone-"

"Jon Snow, the Queen has demanded your presence!"

"Fuck," he grumbled, letting his eyes slide from a group of five guards led by Ser Preston Greenfield that was approaching from the left to the ground of three guards led by Ser Boros Blount that were coming up behind him. "Trying to corner me in? Smart."

"Don't  compliment them, Jon," Sam hissed into his ear as he grabbed at Jon's cloak. 

"Just stay behind me," he whispered back.

"You're to come with us, bastard," Blount commanded, puffing out his unimpressive frame to try and look more intimidating. 

'You're failing,' Jon snidely thought. "And why is that, Ser Bloat?"

For a moment, Jon thought he heard a snicker from one of the guards but it was drowned out by the nearly-bald Kingsgaurd bellowing, "It is Ser  BLOUNT , you uppity bastard!"

Ser Preston took a step forward, trying to keep at least some sort of control over the situation. "Come along quietly, young man; there is no need for anyone to get hurt."

'Gods, I wish that was true.'

"You're right, no one needs to get hurt," Jon said, clenching and unflinching his fists until magic flames began licking his fingers. "Both of you -turn around, take your men, and walk away. Do that and I won't have to kill you."

A chorus of laughter rippled through the men. Sam let out a soft whimper and clenched Jon's robe tighter. 

"You, kill  us ?" Blount sneered. "We outnumber you 5-1 and you have no sword, bastard!"

"An unfair fight," Jon admitted with a nod. "But I will try to make your deaths quick."

Then he raised his hands and shot twin jets of ravenous fire at the men, burning them all alive and melting their pretty golden Lannister armor. Metal was good at keeping you safe on the battlefield but, in a blaze, it just cooked you faster. 

There was a rush of heat, a series of brief, choked screams of terror, and then nothing. Jon lowered his hands, giving the two piles of burnt flesh and blackened corpses covered by the glistening molten remains of their armor a brief once-over. 'What a waste,'  he thought. 

The smell of burning flesh and the sight of a charred skeleton with the blackened flesh stuck to the heat-cracked skull of -what used to be- a guard was stomach-turning but Jon had, sadly, spent the past few years learning to get used to it. 

Sam, however, had not. 

" BLARGH! "

Jon winced as his friend bent over and vomited on the floor, scrunching his nose up at the smell. "There, there," he soothed awkwardly, rubbing his back. "Let it all out."

Sam took a few deep, shaky breaths, stood up, and wiped his mouth off on a nearby curtain. "W-what was t-that?"

"Magic," Jon said simply. "Now, keep up; we need to get Lord Arryn and be gone before anyone else comes."

The other young man let out a confused but amazed gasp, sputtering as Jon pulled him by the arm up the staircase. Jon went to open the door when he became aware of an auditable squelching sound from beneath his boot; he glanced down, eyes widening at the blood that was running down the stairs -the liquid soaking into the dark stone. 

"Is- is that  blood? " Sam asked, gagging once more at the smell. 

Jon didn't answer, instead just kicking the door in -not even bothering to check if it was locked or not. 

"Lord Arryn?" he called out, barely stepping into the chamber before reeling back in shock as Sam glanced inside and began throwing up once more.

Blood soaked nearly every surface, bright red sprays painting the ceiling and walls like some sort of grotesque artwork. But even that was nothing compared to the dozen or so dismembered bodies that were scattered around the room. 

"Hello, Jon," Lady Valerica said, voice calm and chipper. "Are you looking for Lord Arryn, as well?"

"...yes," he forced out, carefully stepping around a stray arm. "Wha... what happened here?"

The vampiress glanced around the room, completely unphased the gore and viscera that surrounded them even as blood was drying on her cheek. "Oh, I was looking for the Hand of the King to give him another dose of the antidote when a group of the Queen's men came to collect him as well. When they learned Lord Arryn wasn't here, they tried to get me to come with them. I declined. Could you be a lamb and get me something to wipe my face off?"

'That's obvious. I can't believe it got so bad so fast,' Jon thought grimly as he riffled through some drawers to find a clean washcloth which he dampened with -due to the lack of anything else- some wine and gave to her. 

Lady Valerica shot him a small smile before jerking her head towards the still retching Sam. "Who is he?"

"He is my friend, Samwell Tarly," Jon explained, tossing his friend the wine bottle to rinse his mouth out. "He was coming back with us to Skyrim anyway but, now that things have changed, those plans have been stepped up."

"Obviously," the woman hummed. "Do you know what is going on?"

"Not completely," Jon confessed, "but I know we all need to get out of here as soon as possible. Enzo is taking my uncle down to the harbor and then will be trying to round up Robert's children. I still need to collect Lord Arryn, Serana, and my sisters but-" 

He faltered as an idea dawned on him; Jon turned to Lady Valerica, "Actually, can you take Sam here down to ship? I will meet you there with others as soon as I can."

The vampiress eyed Jon's pale-faced friend with a deeply unimpressed look before shrugging. "I supposed; you just ensure my daughter and little Arya are safe, you hear?"

'Serana can more than protect herself,'  Jon thought, somewhat amused, but he nodded. "Of course."

"Alright then," Lady Valerica said, already pushing Sam out of the room and steering him down a corridor. Then she turned and called over her shoulder, "You should check the infirmary for, Lord Arryn."

Jon gave a sharp nod, spun on his heel, and took off once more.

The many intricate passageways for the Red Keep was impressive in many ways; there had clearly been a method in Maegor's madness and Jon could almost appreciate it. He'd spent the past weeks exploring as much of it as possible, creating a map in his head just as Vex had taught him, but even now he only had the roughest idea of where he was going. Some of the corridors and stairwells seemingly stretched on for miles while some seemed to go nowhere at all. It was dizzying and somewhat unnerving, not helped by the sounds of yelling and screaming that echoed through the halls.

Heart pounding in his ears, Jon rounded a corner and threw himself into the infirmary; he opened the door just enough to slip through -silent as a mouse- and closing it quickly behind him.

"Jon?"

There was Lord Arryn, frail-looking and pale but on his feet and halfway through the process of putting several vials and books into a satchel, frozen and staring at Jon in shock. Then his old, lined face grew dark and cold. "It's begun, hasn't it?"

"Aye," Jon growled back. "I'm getting you to safety, Lord Arryn. Come with me."

The old man sighed, "You shouldn't have put yourself in danger for me, Jon; I am old and not worth dying for."

'Dear gods, I wonder if that is how I sound to Enzo and Serana.' Jon shook his head, "I'll decide that for myself, thanks. Now, get your things; we need to go. There are guards everywhere."

"I would expect nothing less. Despite my best efforts, over 3/4ths of the castle staff has been bought by the Lannisters -either officially or unofficially," Lord Arryn grumbled. "I just need to finish packing up these items and then we can go."

"I'll get them," Jon stated, striding over and taking the bag from the man's hand. Not caring much for neatness, he swept everything into the satchel as Lord Arryn stepped back and immediately started for the door. "Alright, let's go."

The old man nodded as he opened the door, "There is a secret stairwell that lets out at the sta- gwaarah! "

A thick sword, easily as long as some women were tall, was thrust through Lord Arryn's chest as Jon watched on in horror. An eternity seemed to pass before the blade was yanked back and the limp, lifeless body for the Lord of the Vale crumpled to the ground before being callously kicked away by the huge, lumbering form of the Mountain. 

The lumbering hulk's massive frame completely filled up the doorway; Clegane even had to crouch to get through it, closing the door behind himself as his thick armor clanked and clattered. Beneath his helm, the Mountain grinned like a rabid dog. 

Jon took careful, measured steps backward, moving in tandem with Clegane's lumbering steps towards him. When he could go back no further, Jon circled to the left as the Mountain continued to mirror him, a dark glee glinting him his eyes. 

'He enjoys games, I bet, or, at least, ones where he comes out on top,' Jon thought. 'Let's see how much he likes it when I changed the rules.'

When he got Clegane where he wanted him, Jon froze and offered up a vicious wolfish smile of his own.  "FUS RO DAH!"

A window exploded, fragmented shards of glass spraying into the air. Infirmary beds were thrown against the wall, their wooden frames imploding upon impact. Any loose objects were blown away and the Moutain was flung into the sturdy brickwork behind him. 

Despite the urgency of his situation, Jon felt like playing with his prey. He watched as Clegane started to struggle to his feet with a roar. He let the man get almost completely unright before opening his mouth once again. 

"GAAN LAH HAAS!"

The Mountain was overtaken by the power of Jon's Thu'um, falling back to the floor as every bit of his vitality was drained from his body. 

"You know," Jon said casually as he crouched by the man's side, pulling off his helmet so he could see Clegane's ruddy face, "I was going to do with poison but I would be lying if I said that I didn't prefer getting to kill you in person."

The Mountain bared is teeth in a fearsome snarl, his eyes burning with hatred, but the man didn't have the strength to speak, let alone fight. 

"One of the nice things about killing you this way is that I can tell you why you're going to die," Jon said as he searched around the now demolished room. His eyes fell on a metal candlestick holder and he picked it up, testing its weight and deeming it heavy enough. "If I were in a more heroic mood, I could tell you that your death is compensation for all those you've hurt but I'm not going to do that."

Jon bent over Clegane, making extra sure he was looking the man dead in the eye. "My name is Jaehaerys Targaryen and I am the only remaining child of Rhaegar Targaryen. You killed my family and you are going to die because  no one hurts my family."

With one final smile, Jon raised the candlestick holder high and brought it down on the Mountain's head.

Then he did it again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again.

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again once more until the candlestick holder actually bent from the force of Jon's blows. He dropped it and panted, whipping his blood-splattered face off with the back of his hand as he stared down at the caved-in mess that was once Gregor Clegane's face.

'Shame,' Jon thought, as he felt Clegane's neck for a pulse and found none.  'It was over so quick.'

Then his fingertips felt the thin chain of a necklace. Curiously, Jon pulled it out from under the man's breastplate and stared down at the gold mediation with confusion. It was a simple golden disk with the impression a running hound with its head cocked to the side and whose eyes were made from two small rubies. 

It was the rubies that caught Jon's attention; they looked so familiar. 

'Where have I seen them before,' he wondered, running his thumb over the surface fo the mediation and staring into the gems. 'They almost look like...'

A sickening realization hit Jon's gut hard, filling it with a cold that was swiftly replaced by a burning fury. Enraged, he ripped the necklace from the Mountain's neck and tucked it into his pocket.  'Of course, he would take trophies.' 

Leaving the fruits of his labor to rot on the floor, Jon went over the crumpled form of Jon Arryn and did him the respect of righting his body and closing the man's eyes. 

'I'm sorry, Lord Arryn,'  he thought sadly. 'I wish I could have saved you. You survived so much, for that to be your end was just undignified.' 

Creak!

The sound of the door opening had Jon looking up and into the scarred, mangled face of Sandor Clegane.

For a long moment, things seemed to freeze. The Hound's eyes slid from Jon's gore-splattered face and clothes to the massive stab wound in the center of a dead Lord Arryn's chest to the corpse of his own older brother and then back to Jon. 

His face twisted in rage and he thundered towards the young Dovahkiin with hate in his eyes; Jon backed up until he was almost pressed into a wall and start to say something only to be grabbed by the collar and hoisted into the air. 

"YOU TOOK MY REVENGE FROM ME!"

Jon clawed at the Hound's hands; he didn't want to hurt this man, he had no reason to, but he needed to get away, there was still so much left to do. He struggled in the large man's grasp and, out of the corner of his eye, Jon caught sight of one of the blown-out windows. 

'That will have to do, guess I'm taking the scenic exit.'

Jon grabbed at the Hound's face, digging his thumb into one of the still oozing blisters that littered the man's face, causing him howled in pain and loosened his grip. Jon seized the opportunity, driving the soles of his boots into the younger -and now only- Clegane's gut and pushing off. The momentum freed him from the Hound's grasp and letting Jon tumbled backward and out the window. 

Through the air and upside-down, he fell -the ground beneath rushing every nearer- until Jon was able to twist himself around and grab ahold of a ledge to catch himself. 

Crack!

Jon winced at the surge of pain that flooded his hand and rushed up his arm to his jarred shoulder.  'There are twenty-seven bones in the human hand and I'm willing to bet that I just broke nine of them.'

Ignoring that for now, Jon looked around until he spotted an open window and began climbing.