Chapter Text
Jon Martell sat at the table alone, enjoying the few minutes of peace and silence before his brothers and sisters woke up.
On his lap, his direwolf pup, Ghost, watched with desiring eyes the sausage he´d picked up.
I just cut it.
Big red gleaming eyes watched him.
Fine.
He smiled “have it”.
He patted the white pup´s head and picked a piece of fruit. At least he wouldn´t want fruit.
As the warm rays of sunlight entered the solar, one by one –or in Aidan and Iain´s case two- his brothers and sisters began to appear, picking up some food and sleepily conversing with him and then leaving, each to do whatever they wanted.
It seemed like any other day at the Water Gardens.
Except it wasn’t.
Today they are coming back.
Oberyn Martell and Lyanna Stark traveled often, they had visited half the world before Jon turned ten. They had gone to Pentos and Qarth twice, Bravoss at least three times, Myr was often in their routes, they had briefly visited the Slave Bay and it´s cities; Mereen, Ghys, and Yunkai, they had spent almost an entire season with a Khalassar, where his mother had befriended Khal Biurak and according to bad tongues, he had fathered her fourth son, his brother Torrenh Martell.
They had visited the North where Jon had met his cousins, the Stark children of the north. It turned out he had a Tully looking cousin, Robb, who had quickly become one of his best friends and he had almost visited them in Dorne once, until his mother had fallen pregnant again. He also remembered his little cousin, Arya, who had been three at the time. She had been all knees and elbows, long Stark face and his mother´s attitude.
“Southerner” she had said to him clearly as an insult.
“Northerner” he had spat back.
She was like a sister to him.
His mother had loved Arya and had almost suggested to have her fostered in Dorne. But she´d been too little at the time to be sent away.
They´d even traveled as a far as the Wall and beyond, but for a short period of time because his father Oberyn, had as he had himself put it, “hated the fucking ice and no wonder you are all so weird you seem to be enjoying this. I hate this fucking winter and I´m tired of frozen food can we please just go?”
They´d met an old friend of his mother, a wildling man called Ragnar son of Ragnar, who, rumor had it, again, was the father of his twin brothers, Aidan and Iain.
They´d met with Ragnar´s group of wildlings and traveled through the frozen forest with them –and of course, a Night´s Watch party that included their uncle Benjen- making their way from Black Castle to the frozen shore which in summer was a rather short journey.
Jon had loved every second of it.
Saying Lyanna and Oberyn often traveled might´ve been an understatement, but saying they never traveled with their children was a plain lie.
This was the first time they´d left without them.
And no one knew why.
Obara, Nymeria, Tyene and Sarella had always been with them, Aidan and Iain had actually been born on Bravoss when they were on their way back from the North, and they had barely reached Dorne when Lyanna entered in labor with Torrhen.
Only Brandon and Elia had been conceived and born in Dorne.
Everybody knew this because Lyanna wasn´t technically Elia´s mother.
Ellaria Sand was.
People assumed she was his father´s paramour, but in fact, she kind of was with the two of them.
To hell with coustoms, his mother had said to him when she explained why Elia was living with them to Jon; we have a right to pursuit pleasure and happiness, as long as we don´t hurt others, Jon.
Lyanna Stark might´ve been born on Winterfell, but she´d become very accustomed to Dornish ways.
It had been she the one who had first brought Ellaria home, claiming her as her lover, she´d even kissed Ellaria in front of the entire court, just to make that point clear.
Jon had been standing next to his father when it had happened.
Oberyn had just smirked, as happy as a man could be.
“I love your mother Jon” he had said “I fucking love that woman”.
“I know” he had answered.
Anyways, this was a special day because, for the first time in twenty one years, Lyanna Stark and Oberyn Martell had traveled alone, not even taking Ellaria with them.
Truth was, they´d just gone Highgarden, to visit the Tyrells, but it had been a pretty big deal when they´d announced to everybody-all ten of their sons and daughters- that this time they´ll be traveling alone.
Jon wondered if he would soon have another baby brother.
Lyanna Stark, someone had said once, only gave birth to boys.
Not boys, Jon remembered his mother had answered, I give birth to wolves.
Wolves of Dorne.
Their day went about as usual. Jon helped Nymeria to train both Bran and Elia, then Torrhen and Sarella had taught them their lesson, to finally have them both sleeping next to Ellaria early in the afternoon.
Iain and Aidan had then rode off to the nearest smuggling port, where they would buy gods knew what with gods knew what purposes and he had spent the rest of the afternoon sparing with Obara and Nymeria.
Finally, after a rather peaceful lunch, they had all headed down to the ocean pools and he had taught little Ghost to swim in front of every single one of his jealous brothers.
Uncle Ned had given Ghost to him on his last visit to Winterfell, less than a year ago, when his mother and he had simply decided they wanted to go. They hadn´t asked any of his brothers or sisters if they wanted to go.
You don´t just go and waste summer on the North, that´s just plain stupid, they had been told more than once when they made such questions.
Jon smiled sheepishly as the afternoon came to a slow and tranquil end.
How peaceful things were when neither the Red Viper nor the She-Wolf where home.
Lyanna and Oberyn arrived as twilight broke, looking tired and dirty and happy.
Too happy.
They had laughed and smiled, told everybody how boring it had been and how many times Oberyn had had to apologize to Willas Tyrell in front of his grandmother, the Queen of Thorns, a woman Oberyn described as almost as scary as your mother and that Lyanna said was just the most charming woman you´ll ever have the pleasure of meting.
They had eaten, fought and talked into well entered the night. Laughs had filled the halls and Brandon and Elia had fallen asleep on their father´s arms.
When silence filled his parents’ solar, Jon returned.
He silently enjoyed the peaceful tiredness that came after his father and mother, slowly rocking Ghost to sleep.
Lyanna came in silently, her steps barely adudible.
His mother ruffled his hair before sitting down in front of him.
Of all her children, Jon was the one that looked most like her, and yet he was the most different in personality, only having in common with her the preference for northern steel and northern way of fighting. That was why he was probably the son she got along with the easiest.
“Has uncle Tyrion written?” his mother asked him absently, while she slowly undid her usual travelling braid and began do it again. They'd often travelled with him. Oberyn liked the Lannister man quite a lot.
Jon watched her before answering.
His mother was beautiful, wild looking and rare among the dark tanned Dornish women he was used to. Her pale face was always fresh and her eyes seemed to drink it all in, she looked so much younger than she really was, but he still caught a couple of silver lines on her hair.
“Not since you left” he answered “I think he´s still in Pentos”.
“Pentos is too hot on summer” was his mother’s only answer.
They fell silent for a moment.
“Why did you really leave?” he asked his mother quietly as he placed Ghost on a pillow next to him.
Lyanna smiled.
“Nothing ever escapes you pup, does it?”
It´s Wandering Wolf now.
Like your grandfather.
All of the Wolves of Dorne had inherited Stark´s nicknames. They still had to make their own.
Lyanna didn´t answer.
“So?” he continued.
“Doran said the Bitch of Thorns was saying some nasty things that needed to be silenced”.
“About what?”
Lyanna looked at him, her age suddenly growing ten years.
“About you pup. About what your last name really is”.
Jon knew the story.
It´s Jon Snow.
Maybe Jon Sand.
But it is definitely not Jon Martell.
He didn´t care.
His mother wasn´t married to his Father when he had been born. They had married more than just days later after Jon´s birth, more than even weeks. It was supposed to be a secret, but people talked and in their loose tongues lied the danger. It was the reason they´d spent his early years away, hoping everyone would forget. It seemed they hadn´t.
“And so I went there to shut her mouth for her while your father watched. Or was it the other way around?”
“What did you do?” he asked.
“We kindly told her she could shut her political scheming mouth or we would shut it for her”.
That sounds like you.
Jon smiled.
“It wasn´t only about that pup” his mother continued “Doran sent us there to test us. Both of us”.
There was a pause. Jon knew what she was going to say.
“He wants Oberyn and me to occupy our place at the small council”.
Shit.
“He wants you to go to King´s Landing” he finished for her.