Chapter Text
Prologue
Winterfell 289 AC.
Alys Karstark.
Her father had been most firm with her, and it had scared Alys a little. As did the sheer number of people in Winterfell's Great Hall. The North had been victorious and had shown the Squids they were not to be trifled with. Now it wished to celebrate its victory. So, Alys, her mother, and brothers had left Karhold behind and traveled to Winterfell to meet and greet her father and their men upon their return.
That part of things Alys had enjoyed greatly. The adventure of traveling through the North and seeing places for true that she'd only just been learning about in her lessons was simply wondrous. They had traveled to and stayed a night at Last Hearth and then been joined by the Umbers on the Kingsroad to Winterfell. Alys had been saddened that there weren't any girls of her age among Lord Umber's children, but her mother had told her that Lady Sansa Stark was only a couple of years younger than her. So that had only fuelled her desire to reach Winterfell as soon as possible.
Once they had done so, Alys had done her utmost to behave as the true Northern Lady that she knew her mother and father wished her to be. She'd been polite, respectful, and courteous to Lord and Lady Stark and had curbed her impulses to both run to her father upon seeing him or to Lady Sansa when she was introduced to her. In the end, she managed to do so, but briefly, and when she did eventually run to her father, she was swept up in his arms and kissed repeatedly on her cheek. Something that had provoked many giggles from her in return.
"By the Old Gods, look how much you've grown," her father had said as he placed her back on the ground.
"I have five namedays now, father," she replied, trying to sound even older than she truly was as she did so.
"That you have, sweetling."
Alys' father could be an unyielding man, and yet with her, some of his good humor always shone through. It was why, when he'd bid her to dance with the heir of Winterfell and had done so in such a manner as he did, that Alys felt nervous and worried about letting him down. She was the one who approached Robb Stark. To her great relief, he didn't act as boys were wont to do, and he did dance with her when she asked him.
Over his shoulder, Alys could see that her father was most pleased with her, and yet it was soon someone else who took her attention. The boy was dark-haired and grey of eye. He looked sad, as if he wished to be elsewhere. After her dance with Robb Stark, Alys found her eyes drawn to the dark-haired boy more than once. So much so, that when the next dances that the children were allowed to partake in came around, it was to him and not Robb Stark that her footsteps took her.
"Hello, my name is Alys. Lady Alys Karstark," she said, speaking the words in the manner her mother and father had taught her to.
"My lady, forgive me," the dark-haired boy said as he moved to walk away from her.
"I wish you to dance with me," she said, her small hand upon his chest, stopping him from moving away.
"It would not be proper," the boy said sadly.
"Why would it not?" she asked curiously.
"I'm a…My name is Jon Snow, my lady."
"Well met, Jon Snow," she said as she attempted a curtsy, enjoying the small upturn of Jon's lip as she did so. "Now dance with me," she said, holding out her hand, and with her eyes, she dared him to deny her.
Alys found to her delight that she enjoyed dancing with Jon Snow far more than she had with Robb Stark. Mayhap it was because she'd decided she wished to dance with him and was not doing as her father had bid, or mayhap it was for some other unknown reason. Either way, when the time came for them to travel back to Karhold, it was with sadness in her heart that she did so. Not even the thought that she would return here soon enough and they'd see each other again was enough to change her mood.
Later that night, as she slept in her tent, the small blue flower she held in her hand did at least bring a smile to her face. Alys had never been gifted such a pretty thing before, and she had thanked Jon profusely for doing so. Placing the flower among her dresses, she swore she'd treasure it for as long as she could and that upon her return to Winterfell, she'd dance with Jon Snow once more.
Winterfell 296 AC.
Jon Snow.
He'd been on edge ever since she had arrived. As he always was when he saw her. Knowing that she'd soon be in his arms once more had been all that had kept him going these last few days. Jon would find himself even able to put up with the nonsense that spewed from Theon's mouth when the Iron Born hostage spoke. As he moved through the keep, quiet as a mouse, Jon felt that self-same thrill run through him that Alys had always been able to provoke.
Out into the cold of the night, he moved across the courtyard unseen. It was at times like this that he was more easily able to put away how he felt about his baseborn status. People paid little attention to bastards most of the time, and Jon had more than once used that to his advantage. Especially when it came to the time he spent with Alys. He reached the gates of the Godswood without a single soul noticing him and was through them in the blink of an eye.
With no need now to hide, Jon moved more easily, and in a few moments, he saw the outline of the Heart Tree against the darkness of the night's sky. As imposing and breathtaking as the view was, it was the small figure standing beside the Weirwood that took his breath away. Just as she had done from the first time she'd asked him to dance when they were both but children. Smiling as he moved to her, Jon was greeted by the sweetest face he'd ever deigned to look upon. Her pointed chin, grey-blue eyes, the way her braid hung over one shoulder, all of it was just as wondrous to him as it had ever been.
"You took your time, Jon Snow," she chided, her smile belying the tone of her voice.
"I thought the best things are worth waiting for. Is that not what you told me last time we met?" he replied, enjoying the sound of her giggle and the way her nose scrunched up slightly when she laughed for true.
"I meant you waiting for me, Jon. Not the other way around, and well you know it." Alys said before sticking her tongue out at him.
The sight of it leaving her lips, its pinkness clear to him even on this dark night, was enough to send a tremble right through him. Closing the distance between them in two strides, Jon took her into his arms, and they were soon kissing each other passionately. Not even the crisp coldness of the Godswood was enough to cool their ardor. Very quickly, the kisses had turned to touches. Her skin prickled under his fingertips, and Jon felt as if his hands were aflame.
All too soon, they both held themselves back from where those touches would inevitably lead. Looking into Alys's blue-grey eyes, Jon could see she was just as disappointed as he was because of it. It had been the one true bone of contention between them. The one thing that had threatened their burgeoning relationship more than even the truth of who they both were. Jon refused to bring a bastard into the world or to dishonor Alys by lying with her. Despite it being what they both wished for more than anything.
"Your precious honor," Alys said, annoyed.
"Alys…."
"Would you not lose yourself for me, Jon? As I would for you?" she pleaded.
He had no words to answer her with, and so their time together was to be briefer than either of them wanted. Watching her as she left the Godswood and him behind, Jon felt his heart almost break in two. So he cursed the world, his father, and himself for who he was and would always be. Dropping down to his knees, he offered prayers to the Old Gods both to offer him a solution to his woes and as cover in case he was discovered here.
Sometime later, he lay alone in his bed, and as he closed his eyes, his dreams were as they had always been, of things that were not now or never were to be his.
Waking up the next morning, he readied himself to break his fast and made his way to the Great Hall. Much to his, and no doubt everyone else's surprise, Jon was among the last to rise that morning. Which was why his arrival was far more noticed than it may normally have been. At the High Table, his father and Lord Karstark were engaged in conversation, and yet Jon felt his father's grey eyes boring deep into his own as he took his seat.
Theon made some stupid jape about what had caused his tardiness, while Robb looked at him concernedly before Arya then moved to join him. Though he couldn't see her, Jon knew that Lady Catelyn's eyes were upon him. To his dismay, Alys' eyes were not. Once again, he reverted to the same sullen boy he used to be. The one that he'd not truly been for years now. Thoughts of a future that he'd long given up on and a path that was no longer his filled his mind as he ate and ignored those around him.
"You're not listening, Jon," Arya said, pinching his arm; it at least had the effect of dragging him somewhat out of his mood.
"Listening to what?" he asked, to a glare from his little sister. One that soon left her face when he began to tickle her and blow in her ear.
"Gerrooofff Gerofff, Stupid…" Arya laughed as Bran looked on with jealousy, and Alys finally deigned to turn his way.
"I can't, little sister. You've awoken the wolf now," he said, picking Arya up in his arms and shaking her just a little.
"Jon," the stern voice of his father called out, and with that, this particular game was over.
Jon placed Arya back down in her seat and handed her one of the sausages from his plate, which she ate hungrily. A nod to his father and a small bow of his head to Lord Karstark at least brought a smirk from the older man. Glancing to where Alys sat with Sansa and Jeyne Poole, Jon welcomed seeing the half smirk on her face and the lightness in her eyes.
"I said, you could beat him, Jon, honest I did," Arya said, her words making him turn to look at his little sister, who stared up at him eagerly.
"Beat who?" he asked.
"Harrion Karstark." Arya said, glaring now at Alys' older brother, who Jon hadn't even noticed was sitting in the Great Hall.
While Jon wasn't small by any means, next to Harrion Karstark, he may as well have been. He'd not seen him much in the yard, but Harrion had some years on him, and so Jon wasn't as confident as his little sister was. Some had told him that he was, or would one day be, the best sword in the North, and Jon had taken great pride in that. Was it not for Alys, then he may very well have limited himself far more than he'd done these past few years. Instead, her words had inspired him to be the very best he could be, and with training, some experience because of that training, and always to impress her, he'd come on greatly.
Even Ser Rodrik was barely a match for Jon when he really went all out. Yet, other than some bandits and sparring against the men of Winterfell, Jon had never truly been tested. Looking at Harrion, who wore a smirk and even had the temerity to wink in Arya's direction, Jon felt a need to prove himself both for his little sister and for himself. Nodding to Arya, he gave her an even truer wink, and the look that appeared on her face stilled his heart a little. Before he knew it, she was standing facing Harrion Karstark, and then both she and the man himself were in front of him.
"Lady Arya believes you can best me, Snow. What say you, care for a wager?"
"Aye, why not,"
"Name your stakes, Snow," Harrion spoke confidently.
Looking to the High Table, he could see that his father, Lord Karstark, Lady Catelyn, and Alys all looked their way. Ignoring the frown on his father's face, Jon looked to Arya and bid her to name the prize they'd be fighting for. Almost cringing when she named it as 100 silver stags.
"Aye, I'll accept. And I'll welcome spending your coin, Snow," Harrion said as he turned and walked away from them and strolled out from the Great Hall.
Jon hurriedly ate the rest of his meal and listened as Theon told Robb all that had occurred. Before he had made it outside, his father had moved to him, and he was roundly chastised for taking part in such childish games. It angered him a little to hear the words being spoken, yet he simply nodded and then said that it mattered little; honor demanded that he fight now. Something his father was not best pleased to hear from his lips, given the frown upon his face.
"Honor would have demanded you take no part in this, Jon," his father said, and where once those words would have shamed him, they only enflamed the spark of annoyance that was building up inside of him.
Throughout all his achievements with a sword in hand, never once had his father told him that he was proud of him or complimented him ever. While others like Ser Rodrik and Jory Cassel did, his father had almost needed to be dragged into allowing him to put his skills to any use whatsoever. At first, Lady Catelyn had been the very same, and it was only when he wished to ride against bandits or to go out on patrols with the guards that she relented. Even then, his father had, for some unknown reason, never looked happy with him doing so.
Walking out from the Great Hall with purpose in his steps, Jon allowed himself to care not. A glance at where Alys stood with her father and the look of encouragement she gave him, even though he faced her brother, was more than enough for him to wish to win. As too were his sister's excited words when she told anyone who would listen, that her brother was the best sword in the North and damn anyone who said differently.
"First blood or a yield, Snow?" Harrion called out.
"I'll let you decide, Lord Harrion."
"First blood it is then," Harrion said eagerly.
Robb and Theon looked at him with very different expressions on their faces. His brother wished him well, while the Ironborn no doubt hoped to see him bleed. Jon had surpassed Theon's own skills more than two years earlier, and he wagered he'd never been forgiven by the older boy for it. As for his brother, Robb had him beat with the lance, and so he took no slight that Jon was a better swordsman. Which was more than could be said for his mother.
A dark part of him had begun to believe that the only reason Lady Catelyn was so in favor of his riding for true was so that some harm might befall him. It had made Jon ever more determined to get even better with his swordsmanship just so he'd not give her the satisfaction. Lord Rickard looked at him eagerly, and yet Jon was under no illusion that he both wanted and believed that his son would win their bout.
'Another small reason for him to emerge victorious then,' he thought as he picked up his tourney sword and readied for the nod from Ser Rodrik.
"Lord Harrion, Jon Snow. Begin." Ser Rodrik said, and Jon caught the small nod he gave him when his sword and Harrion's two axes collided.
Harrion was all power and strength, and while he showed some skill, it served him poorly. Jon was quicker than he, more skilled, and in truth had been playing with him for the last few moments. He had no desire to shame the young lord, nor to anger his father, and so he fought well within himself. The end with it came was a simple enough thing to bring about. Jon moved inside Harrion's guard as the older man swung both axes, and Jon ducked under them. With the hilt of the tourney sword, he caught Harrion across the mouth and split his lip, earning the victory in the process.
"I told you all," Arya called out happily as Jon looked to make sure Harrion was hurt as little as he wished him to be.
"You are well, Lord Harrion."
"Aye, a good fight, Snow and I'll think twice about going against the Little Wolf's words again," Harrion said, looking to where Arya was mirroring his moves as best she could.
He received a pat on the back from Lord Karstark and words of congratulation from Ser Rodrik, Jory, some of the Winterfell men he'd ridden out with, and his brother. There was none from his father, and when he looked to see where Lord Eddard stood, there was no sign of him anywhere.
Alys checked first on her brother before offering him her own congratulations. The twinkle in her eye was one he was most pleased to see. Though she spoke not the words, Jon believed she'd be waiting for him at the Godswood later that night. He most looked forward to it.
Winterfell 296 AC.
Alys Karstark.
Watching Jon best her brother had brought a true smile to her face. Knowing that she'd played even a little part in getting him to no longer play down his skills with the sword and then seeing the evidence of those skills firsthand was always something that Alys welcomed seeing. As she did, the looks of respect that were thrown Jon's way by her father and older brother. Though they were not looks shared by Lord Stark for some reason, and Alys felt her ire be raised a little because of it.
The nature of Jon's relationship with his father was an odd one, to say the least. Lord Stark, though a most serious man, was not a man who she'd name cruel or uncaring. Each time she'd visited Winterfell in the past, she had seen just how much he cared for his children and how proud he would be of their accomplishments at times. With Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and even with his youngest babe, a warm smile would come upon his face when they did even the smallest of things. He was proud of his heir, his eldest and youngest daughters, and both his other boys. When it came to Jon, she'd never once seen him throw him a smile or warm look. Each time he achieved something worthy of praise, his acts went unrewarded.
Lady Stark was even worse in this regard, but Alys could somewhat understand the reason behind her being so. As for his siblings, other than Sansa, who was taking more and more of her mother's part and so had created a distance between Alys and herself, each of them was more than proud of their brother. Something she could see clearly now in regards to Robb and Bran, while even more keenly when it came to Arya Stark. The men of Winterfell, too, seemed most proud to watch Jon beat Harrion. Ser Rodrik and Jory, along with others, all offered him a celebratory pat on the back. His father simply turned and left without comment or a look. Alys felt her heart break just a little when she saw the downcast look on Jon's face.
"I told you it was foolhardy to face the White Wolf with a sword in hand, Harrion." Torrhen, her youngest brother, said, laughing at their oldest brother as he did so.
"I wished to test his mettle and to see if it was lacking," Harrion responded wryly.
"And was it?" she asked.
"Not in the slightest," Harrion replied, earning him a smile that she kept hidden for now.
At the feast that night, the truth of just how much not being acknowledged by his father had hurt Jon was more than evident. He even stepped on her foot more than once when they danced to prove it even more so. Jon may have taken some time to find his feet on the dance floor, but over the years, he'd become as adept out there as he was with his sword in hand. It had led her to once ask him if he trained just as much to master that discipline as he clearly did to master the other. His answer had then earned him one of their truer kisses.
"My lady likes to dance, and I would be a poor partner should I not do my best to match her footsteps."
Over the years, it had become so second nature for her to dance with Jon and Robb that no one raised an eyebrow when she did so. The only time it had ever been brought up was a year or so earlier, when she reached her one and tenth Nameday, and talk had turned to Alys being close to her flowering. Even then, it was not her mother nor her father who did so, but Lady Sansa. Mayhap at her mother's behest. Alys, as she watched Jon take his seat at the back of the hall, now once again remembered the words that were spoken.
"Is it not shameful to dance with my half-brother, Lady Alys?" Sansa asked as they sat and embroidered with her mother, Jeyne Poole, Beth Cassel, and the Septa.
"Why would it be shameful, Lady Sansa?"
"Because of his birth, my lady. The Seven warn us of the nature of the baseborn," the Septa spoke, her words unwelcome.
"I follow the Old Gods, Septa. The gods of my father and my mother, of the North. Your Seven may name it shameful, mine own gods do not."
"But still…." Jeyne began, only for Alys' glare to stop her from speaking further.
"In all the years I've been coming here, I've danced with both Lord Robb and with Jon. Never once have I felt it was wrong to do so, and neither my father nor my mother has ever requested that I not. I shall keep to their counsel, Sansa, Septa. Mayhap you should keep to your own."
Her mother had chided her for speaking that way upon her return to Karhold and then very much not when she explained her side of the conversation. Later that year, when she came back to Winterfell with her brothers for Lady Sansa's Nameday celebrations, she found out that Jon, too, had words spoken to him by his father. While he'd not been told to refuse a dance with her, he had been asked not to seek one.
Taking her seat and looking at him drinking what she believed to be an ale, Alys remembered how it had been he who'd asked her and how he'd for once ignored something his father had said. He'd done so a few times over the years at her request. Only things that she felt were in his best interest, mind. This had been the first time he'd done so at his own urging, and she'd been so very proud of him when they'd met up with each other in the Godswood that night.
With the feast winding down, Alys sought Jon out and found he was no longer sitting where he had been. Worrying a little about that, she almost excused herself to go looking for him and only relented because they would see each other later. Time seemed to stretch on and on, until finally, she could take it no more and so bid her hosts goodnight and was escorted to her room by Torrhen. Feigning tiredness, she told her brother to go back to the feast and that she'd be taking to her bed. Then waited for him to do so before she snuck out and hurried across the courtyard and into the Godswood.
"Jon, are you well?" she asked, seeing how he stood leaning against the tree, almost as if he was in a fighting stance.
"Aye," he replied sullenly.
"Jon?"
"It's nothing."
"Jon, speak to me, please," Alys said worriedly.
"Father spoke to me about the Night's Watch today. After the spar against Harrion. He said my skills would come in most useful there." Jon said with a sigh. "The first acknowledgment that I have any skills at all that has ever passed his lips and…."
"Oh, Jon," she said, moving to him, her arms stopping him from sagging to the ground, and she felt his need from how he embraced her back.
They stood there just holding each other for some time. Jon shed no tears; that wasn't him. He spoke little more then either; instead, he simply moved his head so he was looking at her, and then she felt his lips on hers. Sooner than it usually happened with them, those kisses became more insistent, and when Alys broke away from him, she saw the momentary hurt in his dark grey eyes. Moving her hand to his face, she felt rather than saw him move into her touch, and soon enough they were kissing once more.
By the time they made it back to the keep, the feast was over, and even though they walked together, no one noticed them as they entered through one of the doors furthest from Jon's rooms. To her surprise and somewhat delight, Jon escorted her back to her own. Once they reached them, she couldn't help but invite him inside. They lay down on the bed together, and as they turned to face each other, Alys kissed him deeply. Whether it was that they were in a bed together for the first time, the words that Jon spoke in the Godswood, or some other force at work, they were soon touching each other in places that they'd not done so before.
"Oh gods, Alys...We shouldn't…We…."
"Shhh, Jon, a little more, just a little more."
Jon tried to stop them from going too far. More than once, he stopped and looked deep into her eyes and begged her to give him leave to return to his room. He was as excited as she was, that much was clear, and yet despite the two ales he'd drunk, Jon was the one thinking clearly. Or mayhap, it was simply that because of who he was and what everyone expected of him, he always was someone who thought that way. Regardless of the reason, Alys cared not and, while it was not a plan she had set out with, she'd not lie and say the thought hadn't crossed her mind since they reached her room.
Rising to her feet, Alys undressed slowly, and when Jon once again tried to leave, she shook her head at him. It was enough to get him to stay and, when her eyes bid him to remove his clothing, he did so without hesitation.
Alys felt the tremble that ran through her body at the sight of Jon's nakedness. His body was firm and muscled, and his member looked far too large a thing to ever fit inside of her. Upon seeing it harden and realizing that Jon was just as affected by the sight of her as she was by him, Alys felt far more confident in what she planned.
"I want this, Jon. Don't you want this?" she said as she moved to the bed and climbed in beside him.
"I want to, I truly do. I'd not….I'd not shame you, Alys…"
"Love is not shameful, Jon and I love you with all my heart."
"I love you too," he said, and then they were kissing and touching each other once again.
There was pain, more of it than she had ever expected. Yet Jon was gentle too, and though it clearly took all he had in him to not be, he went slowly with her until eventually, he could not. When he finished, it was upon her and not inside her. Words were spoken of not bringing another bastard into the world that Alys forced away with even more kisses. Jon grabbed some cloth and some water, and they cleaned themselves as best they could afterward. They then lay beside each other, and he told her that he loved her once again. Mayhap it was the gods who saw them lying there afterward and decided that sleep should come, or mayhap it was fate. All she knew was that when she woke the next morning, it was to the sound of the maid's loud shriek, and before anyone could say anything, her brothers were standing at her door.
Winterfell 296 AC.
Ned Stark.
The last thing that Ned expected to wake up to this morning was an irate Rickard Karstark and to find Jon with a blackened eye. He'd gotten his first good night's sleep the night before. His words to Jon about the Night's Watch and how it was now surely time for him to look to the Wall had been listened to. Ned had been able to breathe in sheer relief for the first time in so many years. He hated that it had come to this, and the look in Jon's eyes each time they'd spoken over the last few years hurt him terribly.
Things were too dangerous for Jon, though. He was making far too much of a name for himself, and while there was some pride to see him do so, the risk because of it was just too great. Given Jon's exploits with a sword in hand and how people were already speaking of him as the future, if not already, the best swordsman in the North, Robert would eventually take notice.
What would Ned do should Robert hear of Jon's skills and suggest a place in the Kingsguard for him?
How could he refuse such an offer?
Telling his brother by choice that there was great honor to be found at the Wall would only lead to that being refuted by there being equally so to be found among the White Cloaks.
While Ned may have been able to dissuade Robert with talk of the men he faced at the Tower of Joy, would he be able to talk Jon out of it, too? He doubted he would be. Especially not with how Jon had acted these past few years and how he had turned down any hint or subtle attempt of his to point him to a different path. Be it not to patrol with the guards or ride out to meet bandits head-on, or even to temper showing off in the sparring yard. Something that Ned had been unable to curb Jon's impulses from doing.
So he'd forgone subtlety. He spoke the words far more plainly than he'd ever done before, and though it had hurt him to do so, he'd done so regardless. That it brought him enough comfort to enjoy a true night's sleep should shame him somewhat; that it had brought a smile to Cat's face when he'd spoken to her of those words should have angered him. The relief, though, had been palpable, and the promise he made overrode anything else.
'You kept to that promise,' Lyanna's voice said to him now as he looked at Rickard Karstark and Jon and listened to words that he could barely believe.
"Were he another boy, I'd seek his cock and see him unmanned," Rickard said angrily as Cat glared at Jon, and to Ned's surprise, Jon did so back.
"I understand this not," he sighed.
"What's there to understand, Ned. Your son and my daughter were caught abed together. There was blood on the sheets they lay upon." Rickard almost shouted.
"Jon?" he asked, looking at the boy, and seeing the blackened eye almost made his ire rise at the man who'd given it to him, so much so that he needed to ask, "Your eye, Jon?"
"Harrion, my lord," Jon replied, and despite his anger, Ned caught Rickard's almost proud look.
"Is what Lord Karstark says true, Jon?" he asked, and raised his hand when Rickard went to argue about him naming him a liar, something he wasn't doing and had no intention of doing. Rather, Ned needed to hear it from Jon himself.
"It is, my lord."
"Shameful boy." Cat declared, and Ned quietened her with a look.
"And Lady Alys, it was… there was no force?" he asked, and Ned swore if looks could kill, then the look Jon gave him would have ended him.
"I would never force myself on anyone, Lord Stark." Jon spat before Ned saw him squeeze his hand and ball it up into a fist, and seemed to compose himself. "I take responsibility for my actions and name myself the one who did wrong, but I would never force myself upon anyone. I give you my oath on that, Lord Karstark." Jon said, turning from him, and Ned felt hurt that he did so, even if his question had been the reason for it.
"Aye, I know that, lad," Rickard said far more warmly than Ned expected.
"Jon, leave us. You're confined to your rooms until I allow you to leave them. Is that understood?"
"It is, my lord." Jon said, moving to the door and then stopping to look at Lord Karstark, "The fault is mine, my lord. I would seek any punishment to be mine alone to bear."
Rickard simply nodded, and once Jon had left, Cat began. Her words were not welcomed, not by him nor by Rickard, it seemed, and so Ned bid her leave them to discuss the matter between them. Reluctantly, his wife did so, and Ned was left face-to-face with Rickard Karstark. He knew full well what words he said here would decide the nature of their relationship for years to come, and yet he knew not what words to say.
Calling for some ale, he welcomed the fact that Rickard drank as eagerly as he did. The two of them were sitting at Ned's large table facing each other, and not a word had been spoken in what felt like an age. Sighing, Ned filled the mugs once more and then looked to Rickard.
"I know not what it is you wish of me, Rickard. You say you don't wish him unmanned. Would sending him to the Wall satisfy Alys' lost honor?" he asked, hopefully.
"No, Ned, it would not," Rickard stated firmly. "I had wished for a match between Alys and young Robb, though I knew full well my daughter and Jon were friendly. I'd not have considered it other than what has happened, but given that it has, there's no other course I'll accept."
"Rickard?"
"They must be wed, Ned. Word will have spread by now as much as we want to keep it quiet. There's nowt the North likes more than gossip, and my daughter being despoiled by your bastard is juicy gossip indeed. No matter what else we do, anything less than them being wed would cast shame on my House and me, and I'll not stand for that, Ned."
"No, I wager you won't," he said softly.
"So a wedding is the first thing I demand for honor, it'll not be the last."
For the next three hours, Ned and Rickard went back and forth. They argued, made up, drank ale, and almost came to blows more than once. In the end, an accord was reached, and while it was not one that Ned liked, it was at least one he could live with. Whether Cat or her family could was another matter altogether, and yet Ned found he cared not. The die had been cast, and all you could do was accept it and move on.
While Rickard left to go speak to his sons, daughter, and wife, Ned called for his own wife to join him. Cat arrived, and he swore she looked even more gleeful than she had the night before when he'd told her that Jon was going to the Wall. It was not a look she wore for long, and as soon as he told her what had been agreed between him and Rickard, the argument began.
"You can't, Ned."
"It's too much, far too much."
"What of Bran, Rickon?"
"You can't give all of that to your bastard while your trueborn sons are treated lesser, Ned. You can't.
He let her speak and waited until she was done with her arguments before he stated his case. Of course, he'd see that Bran and Rickon received just as much as Jon had; he knew full well how it would look if they did not. While he knew not how he was to pay for such, Moat Cailin and Sea Dragon Point would be the future seats of his two youngest sons. Ned only prayed that the New Gift would provide as much coin and supplies as he had once hoped it would. While Cat made comments about how Jon must have planned this and how this proved the truth about bastards, Ned listened to her not. Instead, he rose to his feet and moved to his wife, placing a soft kiss on her lips to quieten her down.
"We're to host the wedding, Cat. And while I know you have no love for Jon, it's one that the North must be proud of. Rickard would accept nothing less. So think not of Jon if it helps, but that this is something we must do or risk our standing with one of our strongest Bannermen."
"As you say, my lord," Cat said, accepting his words if not welcoming them.
With his wife informed, Ned readied to go and speak to Jon. He felt somewhat lighter as he did so, and yet the worries soon came to him as he walked to Jon's room.
Would the gods be good and grant any babe that came the same protection as they had Jon?
What would happen should that babe look more like a dragon than a wolf?
Was Queenscrown far enough away to keep such a truth?
Was there anything else he could do?
There were no answers to those questions. So by the time that Ned reached Jon's room, he prepared himself for the others that were to soon come his way. Knocking on the door, he entered the room to find Jon sitting on his bed. For some reason, Ned truly looked at the room itself and found he liked it not. He'd not noticed it before, but the room was lesser than any of his children's other rooms. It was further away from theirs, and the strangest thought came to mind as he stood there.
'Thank the Old Gods it was in Lady Alys' room, they were found and not in this one,'
It shamed him so much that when he began to speak to Jon about what had been agreed with Rickard, Ned found himself changing that agreement somewhat in his head. Adding more to it as he tried to make up for all he'd not given Jon over the years.
"Lord Karstark has demanded much of me, Jon. Your actions were ill thought out and not ones I'd have expected of you," he began, sterner than he wished, and yet it needed to be said.
"What have you ever expected of me, Lord Stark?" Jon said, rising to his feet. "I am a bastard, forgive me if I do as a bastard does." Jon's words were punctuated by the way he crashed his hand against his chest as he spoke them.
"Jon?"
"Your lady wife was more than keen to tell me of my failings. At least she had the honesty to do so to my face and not behind my back. To speak her words rather than let her eyes speak them for her."
"Enough!" he said, and Jon quietened at his tone. "I came not to bandy words with you, Jon. You were in the wrong, own it as you already have."
Ned saw Jon's shoulders slump, and he almost sagged as he sat back on the bed.
"Lady Alys was not at fault; it was my actions, not hers, that caused Lord Karstark's distress," Jon said softly.
"And I'm sure right now that Lady Alys is saying the same thing to her father and mother as you are to me, Jon. Lord Karstark was angered. Annoyed, Aye, he wasn't seeking your head and seeks not you to be sent to the Wall, Jon."
"He doesn't?" Jon asked, confused.
"Far from it," Ned said as he looked to the bed and then to Jon, who nodded.
Taking a seat on the bed, Ned raised his hand to Jon's face and lifted his chin. Brushing a soft finger over the blackened eye, was mayhap the first physical contact that he'd had with Jon in over ten years. If he'd been a different man, then when Jon leaned into that touch, he'd have embraced him and held him tight while telling him all was well. Instead, his hand moved away, and Jon sat more stiffly on the bed.
"You and Lady Alys are to be wed, Jon," Ned said, and for the briefest moment, there was a smile so true on Jon's face, one so like hers, that Ned almost spoke her name aloud.
"I would not shame her so, Lord Stark," Jon said a moment later, breaking the spell that Ned had been briefly under.
"Her father seeks not to shame her, or do you believe that is Lord Karstark's intent?"
"No, I'd wager not." Jon sighed before speaking some more. "But I'm a bastard; she should not be wed to a bastard."
"She should be wed to a good man and true, and even despite your actions last night, Lord Karstark names you one."
"As do I," his words went unsaid.
"I've naught to offer her. She'd be better off with me at the Wall…."
He stopped Jon from speaking anymore and told him of his agreement with Rickard. The raven would be sent to Robert, and the New Gift would soon be returned. Queenscrown would be rebuilt, and Jon and Alys would take it as their seat. The Lord and Lady of Queenscrown and Warden of the New Gift. In time, they'd have men sworn to them as new Houses and seats were built up. For now, they'd have two hundred paid for from his own coffers.
Rickard had asked for a betrothal gift as he'd be paying no dowry. Fighting men and the beginnings of a small Household and for Jon to take Alys' name when they were wed, was what they'd settled on. While they'd agreed on one hundred, Ned's guilt had doubled it, and he'd see some coin was added too, so that the newlyweds would have enough to furnish their new home. It would be a year, mayhap even two, until they could live; it was Karhold that would host them until then. Something at least that Cat was pleased about.
"Did you at least fight back?" he asked once he was done explaining what Jon's new seat entailed. After Jon had spoken to him about his blackened eye and how Harrion Karstark had knocked him on his arse when he'd seen what he'd done.
"I beat him yesterday. This I deserved." Jon said, smiling when he did so. Once again, Ned saw her as he looked at him.
Later that night, when it was announced to one and all in the Great Hall, Ned saw just how many of those present were pleased by the news. Jory even came to him and asked to be named Jon's castellan and commander of his guards, and Ned, despite not wishing to lose the man, gave him the role. Cat glared and yet was in decent cheer, and Lady Alys's brothers seemed to have put any hostility towards Jon behind them. Rickard looked pleased, if not happy, though his lady wife wore a beaming smile as Jon sat with them and spoke to Alys.
Going to his bed that night, Ned once again felt sleep come easily to him, and when he saw her in his dreams, she wore the same smile that her son had shown him earlier.
Winterfell/ 296 AC.
Rickard Karstark.
Rickard had always liked the lad. Anyone who saw Jon Snow with a sword in hand could not help but be impressed, and Jon was as polite and respectful as any son of Ned Stark would be expected to be. His boys liked him too, and while Rickard had somewhat known that Alys was fond of him, he'd simply not known just how true that was. So when his sons had brought his crying daughter to him, and while Jon Snow tried to take responsibility for the wrong he'd caused Rickard, Alys, and his family, Rickard had sat dumbfounded and completely in shock. It was not a feeling he'd welcomed or allowed himself to entertain for long.
After finding out from Alys her version of events and finding that they lined up with what Jon had quickly confessed to, he knew that there was no other course of action open to him. They had to be wed, and he would wring as true a price out of Ned Stark for one son as he'd always hoped regarding another. It had taken some back and forth, and at times it seemed as if Ned Stark had to almost be dragged to where Rickard wished him to go. In the end, though, they got to where he wanted. Other than the Lord of Winterfell himself, there was no better match for Alys than Jon Snow, not after what Rickard had gotten his father to agree to. That the two obviously had true feelings for each other, well, forgive him if he now welcomed that just as keenly.
So after informing Alys and her mother and while letting his daughter know that she had still earned his displeasure, Rickard set to work both in readying for the upcoming wedding and for the days to follow. When he found out that Jory Cassel had requested to be Jon's castellan and captain of his guards, Rickard had been overjoyed. Even more so when he had spoken to the man himself and asked his reasons for doing so. Any doubt of the regard Jon was held in or the respect he'd earned was soon assuaged by the words Jory spoke.
"He's a good lad, my lord. A true terror with a sword in hand and fearless to boot. Damn near saved my arse a year or so back and wouldn't even take a thank you from me for doing so. Merely said, "It's what men who rode together did." Jory said with a fond smile on his face as he spoke. "I could stay here, serve Lord Stark, and earn some renown in doing so. Yet that'll be all I ever earn."
"You seek a reward?" he asked curiously.
"I wouldn't need to, my lord. Not with Jon Snow as my liege." Jory said, and Rickard nodded as he bid him continue. "So I'll ready the keep for him, train his guards, and in time, Queenscrown will be a fit and worthy home for its lord and lady. Until it is, I am at his and so your own command."
"I most welcome having you, Jory, truly."
Truth be told, Rickard had expected Ned to deny Jory leave to enter Jon's service. Though he'd not expected it when Ned doubled the number of guards he was adding to it, nor the amount of coin he was handing Jon and Alys as a Betrothal Gift. Rickard had then waited as anxiously as Ned himself did for word from King's Landing. Neither of them believed that King Robert would deny his brother by choice's request, and yet until it was there on the table in front of them both in writing, the wedding couldn't take place.
Not that it stopped his wife and daughter from making their own preparations for that wedding. Preparations that, even more than once, he found himself dragged into. The day the raven arrived, Rickard and his sons bid Jon to join them in a hunt in the Wolfswood. Ned begged off due to how busy he was, and while Rickard and Jon himself welcomed having Lord Robb with them, none of them welcomed the Ironborn hostage. As they rode, Rickard more than once saw Lord Robb glare at Theon Greyjoy and even ride away from him to join Eddard and Torrhen. Harrion rode beside his horse while Jon Snow rode a little behind them, and so once they'd taken down the two stags, one by Jon's hand, Rickard bid his future Goodson to ride alongside him on the way back to Winterfell.
"Things will be much different once you leave here, Jon." Rickard began. "While you'll be a lord and treated as such, you'll still be a lord without a keep for some time. So your duties will be to your new lands and to Karhold."
"Karhold and its lord can count on me, my lord."
"Rickard, Jon. We're to be kin by marriage as well as blood by week's end. At least when we speak alone or with no need for propriety, we can use our names, can we not?"
"I…as you say, Rickard." Jon stuttered.
"This is not the way I wish my daughter's wedding to have come about, Jon. I'll not lie and say I'm still not wroth about what you both did." his words were stern and to the point.
"Alys…"
"Was just as responsible as you, I'm not fool enough to know that."
"Forgive me, Rickard."
"In time, I will. Yet for appearance's sake, I must seem still angered at the both of you," he said, catching the surprised look on Jon's face. "I'm happy to welcome you to our family, Jon, be in no doubt of that, and mayhap this is the only way that could have come about," he said to an ever truer look of surprise. "Once we leave, things will be different, and you'll find that I'm not as stern a man as I may look. You were not my first choice for Alys' hand, Jon. You are, however, the right choice for it," he said. He swore there was a tear in the young lad's eye at his words.
Five days later.
The great and the good of the North had come out in all their numbers to see Alys wed Jon Snow. More than one lord patted him on the back and told him that he was getting a good man for a Goodson. While a few looked at him enviously once they'd heard the full extent of what Jon and Alys would be the Lord and Lady of. Robert Baratheon had surprised them all when he'd given the entire Gift and not simply the New. Maege came to him and spoke to him, both of her surprise that he'd accepted Jon as Alys' husband, given his birth, and her respect for him in doing so. When she subtly asked about the lands of the Gift and who it was who'd name the lords to rule over it, Rickard had smiled as he pointed to his new Goodson.
"Then I shall see if there's a place for one of my girls there, Rickard. For not only lords can rule keeps."
"I'm sure my Goodson and daughter would be most pleased to know they had a She-Bear to call on," he said as he and Maege crashed their mugs together.
When the time came to lead Alys to the Godswood, Rickard found himself almost being dragged there. It brought a smile to his face and made him remember his own marriage to Alys' mother. Lysara seemed to be thinking of the same thing, and while his wife wiped away the happy tears that fell, Rickard saw that eager look in her eye that promised the night to come was not just one the newlyweds would enjoy.
"Who comes before the Old Gods tonight?" Ned Stark's voice called out as Rickard held Alys' hand and readied to walk her to the Heart Tree.
"Alys of House Karstark, a woman grown, trueborn, and noble. She comes to claim the blessings of the Old Gods. Who comes to claim her?"
"Jon of House Stark." Jon replied firmly, "Who gives her?"
"Rickard of House Karstark. Her father, who loves her dearly," he said, and felt Alys grip his hand a little more tightly.
Rickard walked her the final few feet and passed her hand to Jon, who took it eagerly. Moving to stand beside his wife, he took in the sight of his daughter and Goodson and thought they made a handsome couple. Alys had her brown hair braided while her dress was white with small suns embroidered into it. Jon wore black leather britches and a white shirt under a black leather doublet. His black cloak had wolf's fur as its collar, and when he moved to remove Alys' maiden cloak, Rickard needed to take his wife's hand in his own. The emotion of seeing their only daughter be wed proved itself a little too much for Lysara. Rickard, too, felt it somewhat.
Seeing Jon cloak his daughter and take her under his protection, Rickard felt no fear or worry that he was the man who'd be able to do so. Watching as they knelt and begged for the Old God's blessings, he too offered them his own small prayer. He could have done without seeing his daughter and her new husband kiss each other so passionately, or the loud cheers and whistles that came from some of those in the Godswood. Yet he begrudged neither.
Taking his wife's arm, they arrived back in the Great Hall, and they were sitting at the High Table beside Ned and Lady Catelyn before even Jon and Alys had done so.
"They look good together," Lysara whispered as Jon and Alys laughed at something one or the other had said before they then shared a more chaste kiss than the one they had in the Godswood.
"Aye, they do. It was not how I wished it, yet I'm most grateful this is how things played out," he said before he and his wife shared their own kiss.
As the feast began to wind down, the Greatjon rose to his feet and called for the bedding, and Rickard swore that the look the giant lord of Umber was given by Jon was one that would have killed a lesser man. Alys whispered something in Jon's ear, and reluctantly he nodded. Then Rickard looked to his sons and offered them his own small nod of his head. By the time she reached the rooms she and Jon would spend their first night in, his daughter had been stripped but only to her small clothes. Jon Snow was far more unlucky, and Rickard caught more than one lady looking enviously at his youthful body before he was shoved into the room.
He let others stand outside and offer their ribald comments and cared not when the sheets were shown and were bloodied. While some knew it was a mummery and that Alys's maidenhead was already lost to her new husband weeks before, others simply accepted it for what it was. They stayed only a few more days at Winterfell, and when the time was ready to leave, it was to be with the largest party he'd been a part of since the Greyjoy rebellions.
"I thank you, Lord Stark. The honor of allowing me to have the wedding here was much welcomed and appreciated."
"It was my honor to see it so, Lord Karstark."
"Lady Catelyn," he said, kissing her hand."You have done my House proud, my lady, I thank you for it."
"You are most welcome, Lord Karstark." Lady Catelyn said, though as soon as he moved from her and once Lysara had offered her own thanks, the scowl was back on her face and aimed once again in Jon's direction.
"I'll see that Jon doesn't work him too hard, Ser Rodrik," Rickard said to the Master of Arms who'd just said his own goodbyes to his nephew.
"I pity any fool Wildling who thinks the Gift to mean just that, Lord Karstark." Ser Rodrik said with a loud laugh.
"Aye, me too, Ser Rodrik, me too."
Jon said his goodbyes to his family and promised the youngest daughter and the youngest two boys that one day he'd take them to see the lands he'd soon be naming home. Little Arya hugged him so truly that Rickard wasn't sure that anyone would get her to let him go. Then Jon and Robb both embraced as brothers, too.
"Goodbye, Karstark."
"Farewell, Stark."
The smiles each brother wore were sad ones, and as Jon helped Alys mount her horse and then mounted his own, Rickard moved to them before walking to his own horse.
"You'll see them again soon, Jon. This won't be the last of Winterfell, you'll know, and in time they'll come to you too."
"Thank you, Rickard," Jon said before Alys spoke some words in her new husband's ear, and a smaller, truer smile came to Jon's face.
His new Goodson didn't look back when they rode out the gates, and not even after they crested the small ridge, and Winterfell faded from view. Rickard found it to be an apt thing for him to do as the future forced you to look ahead, and Jon Snow and Alys, he'd wager, would have a future to be proud of.