After their kiss Jon felt more confident than ever. Thoros called him a monster in the training yard. He felt as if he could conquer the seven kingdoms himself without Bloodwing or Ghost. Even when Myrcella suddenly seemed to give him faltering smiles rather than the brilliant ones she had, he felt as though he was himself cloaked in dragon scales.
Yet that grand feeling died when Tyrion asked him to join in a game of Cyvasse. "I don't know the game well, my lord."
"Sit and I'll teach you," Tyrion told him.
After one game spent telling Jon the rules and some basic strategies, which he picked up quick enough, Tyrion reset all the pieces. Tyrion spoke of simple matters, though sometimes slipped in bits of information likely meant to test his knowledge despite his keeping Jon from court most days, information which Jon had learned from Thoros or Sam. What caught him by surprise was the question Tyrion asked him after taking his ivory heavy horseman.
"You spent time with the Kingsguard. Who would you choose to join Princess Myrcella in Dorne?"
Jon looked from the board to Tyrion. "In Dorne?"
Having not announced the betrothal at court, Tyrion saw Jon's surprise wasn't feigned. With a nod, Tyrion poured himself a drink, waiting for Jon's move. "A betrothal to Trystane Martell has been arranged. She's to leave in just under two moons and be ward to Doran Martell until she is of age to wed."
Jon lowered his head and closed his eyes, taking a moment to press all of his rapidly rising anger into a ball he tucked away in the core of himself. When he finally opened his eyes and moved a piece he found the Imp arching his brow at him.
"Well? Who would you send?"
"Samwell," Jon said quickly.
Tyrion snickered, looking to the board. "Your fat friend? You think him a worthy guardian?"
"Well," Jon shrugged and used that moment to think, "surely you'd send Rosamund with her as well, wouldn't you?"
Tyrion nodded, moving his piece and sitting back to drink. "Of course."
"Sam has mentioned how pretty the handmaiden is," Jon offered with a slight glance to play up it being a shared secret rather than a fabrication. "Perhaps if he went with her, he could find the courage to speak to her as he wishes."
Tyrion laughed. "You wish to send your friend so he would have a chance of bedding my niece's handmaiden rather than one to guard her?"
"She'll have a personal guard and a kingsguard, wouldn't she? If she has need of a sworn shield I'd offer myself but I'm sworn to you. You could ask Thoros. Surely he would join her if you asked."
"If you asked perhaps," Tyrion said with a knowing smile. "But you are correct, she'll have a kingsguard as her sworn shield. What do you think of Ser Arys Oakheart?"
"He seemed the most willing to speak with me while I squired to Ser Barristan, but I didn't know him well enough to truly say. With Sam at least, while I can't say he is a masterful warrior, I can say he's been getting fairly good with his bow and is far better with a sword and dagger than he was when he arrived." Mostly passable was far better than completely awful.
Tyrion sat back sipping at his wine. "If not for his honor guard I might send him."
Jon looked to the board. "You're no fool, Lord Tyrion."
"I should hope not. What's your point?"
"I mean to say you know the truth of Sam by now surely? Of his father's feelings toward him."
"Ah," Tyrion frowned and nodded. "Yes. I do."
Jon moved his crossbowmen before meeting Tyrion's eyes. "Then you know better than most that his father is more like to let your guards kill him than give up anything for him. Hells, if he could he may well provoke you into killing Sam just to be rid of him. He's all but disowned Sam, made him sign away his rights as heir before coming to join us."
He could see the dwarf likening his own experiences to Sam's, just as Jon hoped. It surely didn't hurt that though Sam was worthless as a hostage Cersei seemed to think him worth keeping, and freeing him to join the guard assigned to Myrcella would annoy her. After a moment Tyrion took another swig of wine and smiled, taking Jon's crossbowmen. "Perhaps the heat will help him shed some weight and act a better guard for my niece."
When Jon found Sam and told him of what he'd suggested to Tyrion, his friend gaped at him. "You want me to guard her for you?"
"I want you to help her in my place," said Jon. "Be her friend."
"But I'm to act a lovesick fool around her handmaiden?"
"Is that such an awful thing?" Jon asked with a laugh. "To try and earn the affection of a pretty lady?"
"No, but…" Sam sighed. "What of you?"
"I have a squire now," Jon said with a solemn smile. "And Thoros, whatever he is. And I don't need you as a guard, I have a set of my own."
Sam chuckled with him as Jon nudged his head toward the Lannister guards stood off to the side. "Still, my training-"
"You can keep that up on your own for now, or find someone there to aid you." Jon leaned forward, meeting Sam's gaze. "Sam I'm asking much of you, but this isn't about sending you away or just guarding Myrcella. I want to know what the Martells are like so I know if they're the type I can consider seeking as allies or if I need to look for others to overthrow them as well. And I need you to make sure they don't harm Myrcella."
Sam frowned. "You think they would harm her?"
Jon sighed. "She's a Lannister."
"You think it true?"
Jon shrugged. "It doesn't matter. If it is then she is a full blooded Lannister, and if not then she still has their blood in her veins. The Martells despise the Lannisters for what Gregor did to Elia. Tyrion says this is to quell that anger before it festers like that with the Tyrells, but they could try something, or even one of the houses sworn to them may try something to gain their favor. Either way, we can't let them harm her."
A teasing smile took Sam's lips. "You intend to wed her instead?"
Jon frowned, thinking a moment before answering, "No matter what we may need her to bring the Westerlands into the fold."
"Be honest, Jon."
Jon thought for a moment. "I'd like to see her happy, whether it be with me or another."
"Even if the rumors are true?"
Jon wore a smirk as he responded quietly, "Why should that matter to a Targaryen?" Sam laughed, quickly putting his hands over his mouth when he saw the guards glance at them. Jon snickered before shaking his head and looking to Sam. "I just wish I could speak to her before she leaves."
"If I'm to go with her we could work out a code as well and give you messages she tells me in our letters."
"Thank you Sam. Could you send some to my uncles and keep Robb informed?"
"Of course." Sam smiled. "I've taken up arms and seen battle for you, Jon. Sending letters is easy."
Tyrion had taken to sending Jon away to train with Edric while he tended to court. Jon had no idea until much later that Tyrion had not only denied Robb's terms of peace, but dismissed Alliser's claim of wights at the wall. He wanted to ask what Robb and Tyrion's terms had been, but knew Tyrion wouldn't tell him, so instead asked Thoros, who had become his main source for information.
"He wanted to trade me?" Jon asked with a laugh. "Why?"
"Maybe to keep the Lannisters from using you to usurp them," said Sam. "Or so he'd say."
"Maybe I should have written to him before I left," Jon said crossing his arms. "Surely Alyn told them my intent?"
"That wouldn't stop them worrying," Sam noted, thinking he would try the same. "What we do here is a risk. They merely want you safe."
"And Tyrion's terms?" Jon asked Thoros.
"To lay down arms and retreat to Winterfell, free Jaime and then march against Renly and Stannis. To have all loyal to them send hostages to the court., and offered to exchange some of their hostages for others your brother took."
Jon nodded. "And Ser Alliser?"
"The hand he brought as evidence had rotted by the time he finally came before them, so they disbelieved it."
Jon sighed, thinking back to his letter from his uncles. "Benjen and Aemon wouldn't lie about it. It has to be real, doesn't it? Tyrion is a fool to ignore them."
Over those next few weeks they all noticed he seemed more dismissive and irritable than usual. When Jacor Hogg shot him a glare during dinner one night, Jon had stood up and glared at him as though he was ready to murder the man, who turned away while Sam and Edric made Jon sit back down.
His anger didn't fade much as time passed, instead it grew when word came of Renly's death. Some said Stannis had an assassin kill him in his tent before battle, sparking many to call Stannis a coward and a kinslayer. Jon had never been close to either lord and found he didn't care what Stannis did half a much as he did the thought of Loras' sorrow at the death of Renly.
Before either had made a claim Jon hoped they might follow him instead of Joffrey, but their claims had complicated things. Now with Renly dead he hoped the Tyrells would side with Robb, but wondered if they might make their own claim rather than side with the Starks. Either way he was certain now he had little desire to help Stannis.
Shireen could serve as his heir, or Jon could make due with one of Robert's bastards, but Stannis would never rule Storm's End or any land once Jon rose. He didn't dislike the man during his time in court, but he did little to endear himself to any and Jon would rather avenge his friend's lover than waste his time seeking Stannis' aid.
It helped having Edric there to spar with, letting him vent some of his building anger. It was during one of their matches that Sam arrived and called to him, "Jon!"
He left Edric to practice with his greatsword and made his way over. "What is it?"
"You trust me, don't you?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
"Because I need you to go pray."
Jon tilted his head. "What?"
"Go pray." Sam pointed to the godswood.
Jon stared at him for a moment before sighing. "Fine. Help Edric, okay?"
Sam's eyes widened as Jon handed him his blunt sword and walked off toward the godswood. Edric walked over and smiled as he waved for Sam to join him. "I could use some work on my archery." At that Sam's face lit up and he hurried to join Edric in exchanging their swords for bows.
It was near the heart tree of the Godswood that Jon found Myrcella. She wore a simple red dress with her hair straight again, which meant Rosamund was elsewhere with curly hair pretending to be her.
"This again?" Jon asked with a laugh as he approached.
Myrcella turned to him and smiled. "They didn't know before."
"So you sent Sam to get me."
While he nodded, Myrcella shook her head. "This was his idea. He told me to come dressed as Rosamund today. Though I figured out his intent quick enough."
"Well I'm sorry," Jon laughed. "I fear he did this for my sake."
"Your sake?" Myrcella asked, watching him come to a stop before her.
"I heard you were leaving."
Myrcella's lips sank along with her gaze. "You heard?"
"Tyrion told me."
Myrcella sighed. "I hate that we can't even speak anymore without resorting to tricks."
"I wish we had earlier," Jon sighed. "I like talking to you."
"And I you," she said turning her head slightly to hide her smile. "Though I don't think I could have spoken very much after our last meeting."
It took Jon a moment to realize the last time they spoke had been her nameday. It had felt like so long ago, yet he smiled at the memory, suddenly feeling as though he could still feel her lips on his. "I hope that wasn't too much."
Myrcella shook her head as she looked to him. "Not at all. I'd been waiting."
Jon smiled. "I'm glad at least we had that night."
"I wish we could have more," Myrcella said failing to stop her cheeks from going flush. "I tried to tell Tyrion I didn't want to go. I even had an idea, but he turned it down. He said mother would never accept it."
"What idea?"
"I know Joffrey offered to legitimize you and let you rule Winterfell when the war is won," said Myrcella. "I thought the best way to assure our allegiance might be for me to wed you."
Jon arched his brow. "You wanted to wed me?"
"I thought it best for all involved," she said raising her chin.
Her pompous expression made him smile. "I'd have liked that."
Her expression crumbled as she looked to him. "You would?"
"A bastard like me wedded to a princess?" Jon laughed. "I'd be the greatest fool to reject such a thing, even if it weren't you."
Her smile was brief as it quickly fell away and she looked down. "Even with all the things they say of me?"
"Do you believe them?"
"Do you?" She asked meeting his eyes.
"I don't know. I suppose it's possible, but that doesn't matter, does it?"
"Of course it does," Myrcella said with a huff. "It means-"
Seeing her freeze up he smiled. "You're a bastard?" She flashed him an apologetic look but he leaned forward conspiratorially. "So am I."
Her lips quirked up as she shook her head. "It's different. I'm…"
"Born like many a Targaryen," Jon shrugged. "It doesn't truly change anything about you. You're still the same person you were before. Why should this change that?"
"Because all of that was a lie," she said stepping forward. "If it's true then my father-Robert was never my father, my uncle Jaime was. It means I was never a princess. I wasn't even a Baratheon or a Lannister, but a Waters."
"There is little doubt you're a lion, Myrcella."
"It doesn't matter. I just…" She sighed, shaking her head. "I don't even know what I want anymore."
Jon leaned his head slightly to look upon her downcast face. "What do you mean?"
"If I'm not a Baratheon then why should I be a princess? Because my brother sits on the throne?" Myrcella scoffed. "Joffrey doesn't deserve it."
"No," Jon said shaking his head, "he doesn't."
Myrcella smiled at his easily speaking treason with her. "I don't want this is if it's a lie."
"You don't know what it's like to be a bastard, princess. It's not something any would desire. Even being a lord's bastard kept within his house doesn't erase what you are from the minds of others."
"Surely it's better than living a lie?"
Jon kept her gaze while shaking his head. "I've done both. It's not."
Myrcella arched her brow, glancing toward the trees before stepping to him. "How have you lived a lie?"
"Many ways," he answered. "Every day here is a lie."
Myrcella's eyes narrowed as she smirked. "You're not as Joffrey believes are you?"
Jon smiled. "What does he believe?"
"That you don't care for your family. That you've come out of a desire to forge your own path, much like our father, as he wishes he could."
"I do want to forge my own path," Jon admitted, "though I doubt many know the one I seek."
"Which one is that?"
Jon eyed her for a moment before answering, "One that takes me from Westeros."
"You plan to leave Westeros?" Myrcella frowned despite knowing she would likely leave long before he ever could.
"In time if I'm able," Jon admitted. "I have things I seek to achieve that might be easier on other shores. Either way it would end with me as neither Stark nor Snow."
"Perhaps I should take a similar path." Myrcella chuckled as she turned to look at the heart tree. "Maybe I should stay as Rosamund, let her take my place and marry Trystane."
Jon smiled, lowering his head in thought before that smile faded and he looked to her. "You should."
Turning to him she chuckled. "I should? Why?"
"Because you're going to Dorne, Myrcella," he said without amusement. "You're to be ward to the Martells. They might seek to harm you, or use you to gain some vengeance for Elia Martell."
Myrcella put on an even expression. "You think they would?"
"I think they could," he nodded.
Myrcella smirked to Jon, turning to him. "Tyrion thought the same."
That surprised Jon, his brow rising briefly. "He did?"
"He told me that once we've set sail Rosamund and I are to switch places before meeting the Dornish escort."
"I don't know whether thinking like him is good or bad," Jon said with a laugh.
"Good," she nodded. "If you both think I should then I shall."
It was for the best, Jon knew at least that much. "Have you heard Sam will be joining you?"
"He will?" Myrcella's brow arched. "I thought him kept here."
"Tyrion told me he intends assign him to your guard as a favor to him."
At first Myrcella smiled at the idea of having a guard she enjoyed speaking with, but then it faded as she looked to Jon. "You remain while all your friends will have left."
"I still have Thoros and Ned," Jon assured. "And it's not as though I'll never see Sam or Dom or Loras again. Once things have settled we'll all meet and share stories."
They spoke for a time but when it neared too long, Myrcella turned to Jon with a sigh. "Will you be there when I leave?"
"I imagine they'll let me near, if only to say farewell to Sam."
Myrcella nodded. "I'm glad, though I doubt we'll have much chance to say farewell."
"Then I say now, farewell dear princess." Jon bowed his head.
He was ready to depart when she grabbed his hand. "Jon," she whispered, her emerald eyes somber as they met his. He matched her solemn expression as she reached up to brush a bit of hair hanging beside his eye. Her fingers slid along his beard before she lifted herself and he closed the gap, letting their lips meet again.
Jon held her for a moment, tilting his head as they kissed. Though neither wanted to stop they soon parted,
"I'll try to keep in touch," Myrcella told him, biting her lip.
"Sam can help," he told her. When she nodded, Jon stepped forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, quickly walking backward, away from her. "Until we meet again, Myrcella."
"Until we meet again," she said with a forlorn smile.
With a nod he turned and left the Godswood, quietly cursing himself for kissing her despite having enjoyed it. Even he knew it would only make things harder.
When the day of their departure arrived Jon, Edric and Thoros came to see of Sam, each exchanging a hug with him. Sam vowed to write them and exchanged brief goodbyes, waving to them from aboard the ship. Jon's eyes drifted from Sam to Myrcella and smiled when he saw her glance at him while waving, directing it at him briefly. Sam seemed closer to tears than her, who had consoled Tommen before leaving.
It was on their way back that Joffrey sent Sandor after the peasant who threw dung at him, causing a riot. The moment it started Thoros and Edric moved closer to Jon, who himself moved with Tyrion toward the keep.
In the mayhem that followed, Jon stood silent as Tyrion slapped and kicked the king, letting others stop him while he pretended to speak with Thoros. When Tanda Stokeworth begged them to find her daughter, Jon was tempted to go, but knew he couldn't risk it. Instead Sandor soon returned with the simple minded woman wrapped in his cloak, having scared away dozens of men who had taken her one after the other behind a tanner's shop. Jon found part of him wished he'd been there not only to stop them but to make sure none who took part lived or kept their manhood.
Jon had thought things would get easier as time went on, but he felt the absence of Sam near constantly and Myrcella's at least once a day no matter how little he tried to think of them. He worried that they would somehow see through Myrcella's ploy and harm her. He worried Sam would be picked on and tormented without them there to support him.
The knot in his stomach grew when word came of Balon Greyjoy naming himself king. It grew again when they heard that Stannis Baratheon had taken Storm's End, meaning he was surely coming to King's Landing soon.
When his sixteenth nameday came Tyrion offered to take Jon to the best brothel in the city and let him have as many as he wanted, but Jon opted to drink with Thoros. Edric joined them, but drank only a few sips. Even drinking all Thoros offered him didn't help quell the boiling bile at his core.
The little bit of control he felt over it all broke when Tyrion told him, "Theon Greyjoy has taken Winterfell. They say he killed Bran and Rickon Stark and mounted their heads on spikes along the walls."
Jon sank back into the chair Tyrion had told him to sit in. After a moment he leaned forward and pressed his hands to his forehead, rubbing it before looking to Tyrion. "Are you sure? They said I was dead too."
"I'm sorry, Jon," Tyrion offered somberly.
Jon stared at the table for a long moment before closing his eyes and holding his face in his hands. He sucked in a breath to try and cool the burning in his chest, but it only added to the fire. So he did as he had before and let it sink into him, twisting with the rest and covered in ice enough for him to exhale and look to Tyrion.
Seeing the boy go from broken to composed so quickly was startling. "Are you okay?"
Jon nodded. "Just more people for me to kill."
Tyrion arched his brow and smiled. "I hope I'm not among them."
"Not yet." Jon offered with a smile. He was glad it worked enough to make Tyrion snicker despite the smile tasting like poison on his lips.
It felt like he was sick. Everything about him felt off, shifting between hot and cold, struggling to think clearly at times. He already had times where he needed to sit in the open and get some air, and then Stannis' vanguard arrived five thousand strong and ignited the kingswood, sparking Tyrion to burn houses the smallfolk had built near the city walls.
Jon was stood on a wall looking out to the fires outside the city when a rasping voice asked, "Thinking to throw yourself from the walls?"
Turning he found Sandor Clegane walking toward him, the guards assigned to him looking on warily. "Not yet," said Jon. "Shall I step aside and let you go first?"
Sandor scoffed. "Why should I fear battle? It's a gift to have more men to kill."
"You truly enjoy it?"
Hearing the young knight's doubt, Sandor snorted. "You realize being a knight means more than wearing favors and riding in tourney's, don't you boy?"
"Of course, but that doesn't mean we should think so little of those we kill, does it?" Jon looked out to the flames. "No victory is guaranteed, and they are men no matter whose banner they follow."
"They're bags of meat," said Sandor. "No matter who they are, no matter who they follow, be they man, woman or child, they all bleed and die the same."
"Doesn't that just prove what I said?" Jon asked turning to Sandor. "We're all the same."
"Worthless?" asked Sandor.
"Alive," said Jon. "For now."
"You anger may help with that." When Jon looked at him questioningly Sandor chuckled. "I'm not blind, boy. I've seen you sulking around here more than usual. It's easy enough to figure out you mourn your brothers. I bet you're angry you can't go and kill the cunt who killed them, right?"
Jon looked to the kingsguard's burnt face and nodded. "I am."
"Good," said Sandor, stepping closer and looking down at the young knight as he tapped his chest. "Use all of that anger and you'll find your joy in battle. Revel in it if you can. Should you die at least you'll do so happily."
Jon looked to the fires again and thought of the empty dark he saw after he died. "I'd rather live."