The Warg King

[ATP]

Lost Baratheon belongings from Robert's parents' final expedition? Inky Blinky Kraken found it???

Click to shrink...

Logical explanations.But Jon could not tell about friendly Kraken,right?
what about finding it in Pirate King Lair?
speaking about that,would Jon gave Gerion notebook to Tywin,or not?

 

[oscar e Sampedro Lopez]

Thanks for the chapter. Good story as always

 

[DarthXakersta]

Huh, you know, until this I've never actually considered how people would see themselves without a mirror, or at least clearly and concisely. Even so, very nice chappy thank you.

 

[LazyWizard]

"Brother Willas? What are you doing here?" Margaery asked with a surprised expression on her face as she opened the door to their carriage, only to find her Eldest brother sitting there smiling at her as if he had been waiting for her.


"I was sitting there bored in our Mansion when I heard about the commotion happening at the Port from the guards, and feeling curious, I hurried here wanting to join in the excitement," Willas replied with a somewhat sheepish shrug, as Margaery climbed up and took a seat in front of him, "Sadly though, the crowd had grown too large by the time I arrived, and seeing the entrance to the port so crowded I decided to wait for you here to save my leg some ache," he said while tapping his lame leg with a self-deprecating smile.


"Then you unfortunately missed the opportunity to see a great play, dear Grandson," snorted Olenna as she followed after Margaery and slowly took a seat next to her, "The kind that will probably never be replicated in our lifetimes."


"Is... that so? Seems a high praise coming from you, Grandmother," Willas replied with a raised eyebrow, looking a little taken aback, "Are you sure you are not just exaggerating to make me feel left out?" he asked with a wry look on his face, as that was exactly the sort of jest that the old woman liked to pull.


"She is not exaggerating at all, Brother," Margaery answered before Olenna could with a small smile on her face, "If you had been there... If you had seen it all with your own eyes... then I am sure you would have agreed with her assessment,"


"Is it really something so remarkable?" Willas asked with a doubtful look on his face, "I suppose, I did hear people on the streets discussing something about some that Jon Snow had brought for the King when I was leaving our Mansion, but for you to hold those things in such high esteem... they must be very extraordinary."


"Yes, Brother, they are far more than just impressive..." Margaery began with an excited gleam in her eyes.


'This again?' Olenna thought with narrowed eyes, 'How far has this news already spread? Does the whole of King's Landing already know about this news somehow?' she mused as Margaery enthusiastically began a detailed retelling of the spectacle that they had witnessed.


"The first one was a large, handsome Horse, but not just any common one... And then it was a chest of alcohol and spirits from all of the... And then there was Warhammer the size of a..."


Unknown to the three sitting in the moving carriage, this exact scenario of recounting was happening all across the city at the moment, as the crowd who had been present at the Harbour during the show began spreading throughout the city, and started filling in the details into the rumours about the gifts which had already been circulating far and wide.


The Men gestured wildly with their faces flushed red, embellishing and arguing with their fellows over every minute detail, making the eyes of the crowd around them rage with envy that they had missed such a grand spectacle.


From taverns to brothels, from fruit vendors to cloth merchants, no establishment in the city that served the smallfolks was left untouched, and for a few hours it felt as if anywhere you went, this was the sole topic on people's lips, even more than the upcoming Tourney.


And with every rendition of this tale, the rumour became more and more outlandish, so much so that by the end, everyone knew that it was a fact that Jon Snow was a wealthier man than Lord Tywin Lannister, and that he had brought twenty large ships along with him into the city, with each of them being filled to the brim with mountains upon mountains of Gold.


"Wait! Wait! I must have heard it wrong!" Willas interrupted as he hurriedly shook his head with a bewildered expression on his face, "Did you just say a million gold dragons? T-That cannot be accurate, right?"


"No, you heard it perfectly, brother," Margaery answered with a bright smile, feeling a bit pleased to finally be on the other side, to not be the one constantly being shocked, "Jon even had documents from Braavos with their true seals to prove his claim, and even Lord Baelish, who happened to be there, verified it in front of everyone.


"But how..." Willas asked with a look of utter incomprehension on his face, "Where would one even get that kind of gold?" he asked out loud with a frown on his face, because they were talking about an individual here and not an old Noble family with assets accumulated over decades.


"Hm? Does he not have a large number of ships that trade with the Reach? Perhaps he earned it from there," Margaery suggested with a shrug. "After all, being the owner of the only fleet that can regularly travel between North and the Reach without fearing the Iron Islands must have paid off a lot of gold over the years,"


"No, not possible from that," Willas answered with a firm shake of his head.


"Huh? Why?"


"Well, because we know for sure that all essential grains that Jon purchases from our ports, he only ever sets such a price at his end that he can recover and earn a little to keep his fleet moving. And never charges high enough to make the kind of large profits you are thinking of here. That is one of the reasons our trade quantity has been so high and consistent over the years, or else we would have never been able to sell so much grain with the buying capacity of the people in the North if the cost were even a little more expensive."


"Uh, then perhaps he earned it in Essos," Margaery replied with a thoughtful frown on her face, "Trading between the free cities must be profitable, I presume, and I do not think he would have the same moral dilemma of charging high prices with the Merchants and Nobles there."


"Even then..." Willas murmured while slowly shaking his head, as no matter how he tried to run the calculations in his head, he could not come up with a plausible manner in which one could earn enough of a fortune in just a couple of years, such that even the sum of a million gold dragons would not make you baulk.


"It matters not where he got the gold from, does it? Even if it got it as a loan or stole it from some pirates somewhere," Olenna finally came out of her quiet contemplation and murmured softly, "It does not change the fact that he does have a lot of gold behind him now, and by tomorrow morning, everyone and their mothers will know of the fact that the brat is walking, talking chest of gold..."


"I did not think about that," Willas nodded with a contemplative look on his face, "They are all going to come for him now, aren't they?" he asked out loud, confusing his little sister very much.


"What do you mean? Who would come for him?"


"Everyone! From nobles, merchants, sellswords to even smallfolks," Willas answered with a wry smile on his face, "They would all come to take a share of his wealth... whether he is willing or not... After all, unlike us and the Lannisters, he does not exactly have a large family and an army behind him. At least not one that the people know of,"


As someone who hailed from one of the richest families in Westeros, Willas knew very well how gold can make even the strongest-willed men turn into sycophants and force even the most righteous of warriors to become greedy enough to steal and backstab.


"Will they really?" Margaery asked with a somewhat worried look in her eyes, but then the face of that cunning boy appeared in her head, and she smiled softly, "Perhaps Jon considered it already and is prepared for it."


'I hope so,' Willas thought before shaking his head and coming back to the main topic, "...But he must have asked for something in return, right? After all, he would not have gone through so much trouble and given all those treasures for nothing."


"As far as we know, he hasn't asked for anything... at least not until now," Olenna answered with a tilt of her head, "And that is what had satisfied me the most about it all," she said with a smile in her eyes.


Because if the brat had become greedy and immedaitely asked for something in return, such as clearing his bastard status and giving him the Stark name, or some land and a castle, or anything of the sort and treated it all like a transaction then Olenna would have been very disappointed, and would be left with no choice but to conclude that he was happy with the way things were, and was ready to forget his roots and settle down as a rich Lord.


Fortunately for her, the boy did not go down the path of the pig and was cunning enough to know that a vague favour that you can call out at any time was far more valuable than anything materialistic that he could get.


"Yes, you would not belive it brother, but the King was very desperate to reciprocate after seeing all those gifts, in fact, for a few moments there, he was even prepared to marry his daughter to him," Margaery explained with schadenfreude as the girl remembered that moved expression on Robert Baratheon's face as he held Jon's hands and vigorously patting his shoulders while asking, "Tell me, boy, what do you desire? Tell me and I will make it true! Today, even if you ask me for my daughter's hands, I will give it to you!" he announced loudly, while boisterously waving his hand, as if truly prepared to go through with this impulsive decision.


Unfortunately, though, to the disappointment of the nobles and commoners present there, who were desperately waiting for more drama, Jon did not jump on this once-in-a-lifetime chance, and instead simply answered that, "I am still too young to marry, your grace."


"W-What?!" Willas stammered with a stunned expression on his face, "He offered his daughter's hand in marriage?! How is that possible?" If he did not know that it would hurt him badly, the man would have jumped to his feet to express his shock, "Even if it is for a million dragons... that is just too much, right?"


The eldest Tyrell knew that King could be a simple minded brute sometimes or rather most of the times, but he did not think that even he would something so idiotic, especially considering that from what he knew of the Queen, the woman would sooner poison him in his sleep than let her daughter marry someone who a was bastard in the world's eyes, no matter how rich he was, or who his father were.


"It was not the million dragons that made him do it, otherwise our family would have already been sitting in the small council," Olenna answered with a curl of her lips, "It was the last gift from the brat. It contained something no one expected, least of all the King. And it was that which simulated the king's emotion so much that he babbled that foolish offer without thinking,"


"Yes, and while I was too far to see it clearly, I think I even saw tears in his eyes when he saw the contents of the last chest," Margaery whispered in a low voice as if sharing a secret gossip with him.


"What?!" Willas could not remember exactly how many times he had been shocked since the begining of this conversation, but never in a hundred years had he imagined that a grown man, a king like Robert Baratheon, who had been known as Demon in his youth, would ever tear up in public for any reason, "Why? What was in the last chest?" he asked hurriedly, unable to contain his burning curiosity.


"A dagger and... a necklace," Margaery answered slowly with a mysterious smile on her face, very much enjoying teasing her brother.


"A dagger and a Necklace?" Willas repeated dumbfoundedly with a look of incomprehension, "Why would baubles..." he let off with a frown on his face, thinking intensely, "Were they perhaps made out of Valyrian st—No, even if they were adorned with the most precious jewels in the world, mere trinkets shouldn't have made him emotional enough to cry, right?"


"They would, if those trinkets belonged to Steffon Baratheon and Cassana Estermont," Olenna answered before Margaery could continue with her dragged explanations, making the young maiden pout in dissatisfaction that her game was terminated prematurely.


"Seffon Bara—Are you talking about King Robert's parents?" Willas asked bewilderedly, immediately recognising the two famous names from decades ago, "But did they not—"


"Yes, they died in a shipwreck two decades ago because of a fierce storm," Olenna answered with a nod of her head, "And it is even said that it happened in full view of the castle of Storm's End, and was even witnessed in person by Robert Baratheon, who could only watch helplessly as his parents were swept by the waves and their ship sank to the bottom," Olenna continued with a thoughtful look on her face, "Perhaps that was one of the reason he he hates the Targaryen so much, and why he rebelled at the first opportunity," she murmured softly.


It was a well-known fact at that time that the Baratheon couple had reluctantly set out on this sea trip on the orders of the Mad King, who wanted them to go to the Free Cities and find a good Valyrian wife for his son.


"No wonder..." Willas murmured while repeatedly nodding his head, "His parents died right in front of his eyes, and he could not even retrieve their bodies to give them a proper burial, so it must have felt like a miracle to see their keepsakes after such a long time. No wonder he was so moved."


"What is more amusing is the identity of the one who gave it to him," Olenna snorted, imagining the look on Robert if he ever found out the boy's true heritage.


The moment she had seen what was inside the last chest, and the effect it had on Robert, Olenna had almost sighed in relief, because it was only then that it became clear to her that Jon was playing a very big game here.


After all, there were very few things that could make a man who doesn't even care about a million dragons go to such lengths to please the King.


And she had no reason to believe that the boy's intentions were anything pure...


'It seems there is another player in the game, after all,' Olenna thought as a smile slowly appeared on her face, 'I hope you are ready for it, Tywin.'


That stingy Lannister Lord had always kept a strict guard against other nobles, and except for the Iron Bank and a few Tyroshi Merchants, he had never let anyone else in, never let the Iron Throne owe anyone else other than the Lannisters.


And while that did result in him giving almost three million dragons to the Iron Throne in a bad debt, it also meant that they were the sole authority in control of the Kingdom's economy, where the King could not even host a small tourney without begging him for money.


But the boy came out of nowhere, and, ignoring the door that Tywin had been holding onto, he barged in through a small window and jumped straight into the inner circle with his large chest of gold.


While Olenna was lost in her thoughts, Willas, sitting opposite her, was still struggling to understand the one puzzling question that he could not find an answer to, no matter how hard he tried, "How does even fetch something..."


...


"...which had been lost in the depths of the deep dark ocean for more than two decades? That must be the question running through everyone's mind out there right about now," Robb murmured as he watched Jon demolish the veritable feast of dishes in front of him as if he hadn't eaten in days, which made sense considering the kind of food one gets on a long sea journey.


The sun had almost set outside the window, and the servants were going around lighting the torches in the Iron brackets, bringing a little light to the Mansion, the same one that Robb and the other Northerners had been staying in after reaching the capital.


And both of them had only arrived here about half an hour ago, as before then they had been stuck back at the port, dealing with all the commotion created because of the gifts.


Even after the King and the other Nobles had left for the city, Jon had been kept busy with the heavy task of unloading all of his ships and dealing with the numerous merchants who were interested in his goods.


Counted among these were not only the ones who were present during the spectacle but also new ones who were constantly scrambling towards the port after they heard the rumours running through the city.


Sadly, as Jon's brother, Robb had not been given much of a choice, and had been forcibly enlisted to help provide free labour.


So for more than five hours, they had been stuck doing mind-numbing work back at the port, and it was only after everything had been cleanly sorted away that they were able to make it back.


And even after all this, Robb counted himself among the fortunate, as unlike him, that fellow Jon called the Advisor, was still busy back at the port settling the sailors and arranging guards for the warehouses they had borrowed to store their goods.


"As I explained to Robert and the others, I was just lucky enough to come across a fisherman who had a habit of picking up trinkets he found at the shore, and then selling them in the nearby market. I just happened to be passing through there and accidentally noticed the Baratheon symbol on those two momentos," Jon answered with a shrug as he took a refreshing sip of ice-cold water that felt heavenly in the summer heat of King's Landing.


The ice in the mug came from a cool box that Jon had a habit of carrying around with him. It was made of wood and insulated with the help of a generous amount of straw. With the source of ice being the frozen lakes of the North.


It was one of the perks of having a friend who can fly and carry several kilograms over large distances.


"As if anyone is going to believe such a ridiculous coincidence just happened to occur when you were passing through Stormlands," Robb snorted with a roll of his eyes, "If such a farmer ever even existed, then he would have for sure gone to his Lord before going to sell it in a small market, after all, there are few out men out there, even amongst commoners, who do not recognise the stag of Baratheons."


"What other choice do they have other than to believe me?" Jon asked with a smirk, "After all, they can't very well come to the conclusion that a giant Kraken just happened to be helpful enough to pick up the artefacts from the depths of the ocean and present them to me at my request."


Robb was left speechless at that, as he could not argue with that logic: "What if they just think that you fooled the king with imitations?"


"That would be even more abusrd," Jon said with a snort, "After all, the two in question had been dead since before we were even born, and the only people who were close enough to them to remember the details of their personal symbols would be their children, and I do no think anyone would believe that any of those Baratheon brothers would help me in scamming the King,"


"Fine, your excuses are all very solid, and no one will doubt you," Robb answered with a sigh, shaking his head and admitting his defeat, "But then what about those mirrors? Why did I never know until now that you had established a factory for making those things?"


"Ah, that," Jon said while scratching his head, looking a little embarrassed, "Well, you could say I forgot about it, haha,"


"You forgot about it?" Robb asked with a raised eyebrow, "How does one even forget something like that?"


"You see, it was all a spur-of-the-moment thing," Jon explained with a shrug, "I happened to be passing through Myr, one time and seeing that it was the only place in the world where Far-eyes are created, I got curious, and sent Gan(Rat) to the secret hideouts where the production of various glass products takes place. And then one thing led to another, and I stayed there for a whole month and stole all the secret recipes that they had guarded for centuries," he answered with a sheepish chuckle, as if he had done something mischievous.


"I gathered as much," Robb nodded, looking completely unbothered by the unprovoked heist, "But what I do not understand is why those mirrors from your side are so much clearer and bigger than the ones Myr usually exports. Because I think the masters in that city would have already been laughing in their sleep and sending their men door to door of every rich person in the world to sell them if they had something like that under their arses."


"Oh, that was simply something my men happened to stumble upon while researching," Jon replied with a wave of his hand as if it was no big deal, "I just 'borrowed' a few talented slaves from the Myr who were being exploited, and took them away to work for me with good benifits and as it turns out when you throw good money at talented people, you can get good results very fast,"


"Really? Was it really so simple?" Robb asked with a sceptical look on his face, as it was hard for him to imagine that something which Myr had not been able to achieve in some centuries was created just because some slaves had been treated well.


"Of course," Jon replied with a confident nod, while thinking, 'There's nothing that can't be achieved with a little help of some otherworldly knowledge I had previously seen in a 10-minute DIY YouTube video regarding mirror construction,'


But of course, Jon had only sprinkled some knowledge about a few ingridients and some specific temprature here and there and the rest was really the hard work of those talented craftsmen, "But it took them more than three months, a few thousand defected products, and almost 200,000 gold to achieve it, so it wasn't exactly easy," Jon sighed tiredly as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.


"Don't even try to pretend to be poor in front of me," Robb said with a snort, "That is a very ugly look on someone who earned more than half of that two hundred thousand investment in a single day."


And wasn't that the truth, because the heir of the North had seen it with his own eyes how those greedy Merchants had jumped over each other to grab on to the limited stock of the 100 small mirrors stored in Jon's ship.


Each of them had then been sold for at least a thousand gold dragons, and two wealthier ones had even placed hefty orders of more than a few dozen at once, and still they were not satisfied and wanted to pay in advance to prebook the spots for future goods.


Robb had never seen something like that in his entire life; never known that earning gold could be so easy. 'All my ancestors must have been fools to have kept the North poor for so long,'


Taking a deep breath, Robb exhaled all his complicated thoughts and asked the most important question, the one that must have been on the mind of every player in the Capital, "So what was it all for? Why did you spend so much?"


Before, Robb had some faint idea of where Jon could have been going with his farce at the port, but after he saw all the things that happened at the port, he was no longer so sure, as everything had become complicated for him to make sense of it on his own.


Thankfully, though Jon was his brother, and he could simply ask him directly instead of frustratedly ruminating over it again and again, like the others must be doing at this moment.


Jon stayed silent for a few moments to gather his thoughts before he answered with a question, "Do you remember the news I told you a few months ago, about how the situation had changed beyond the wall?"


Robb immediately sat up straight and asked seriously, "The army of the dead?"


"Aye," Jon nodded with a deep look in his eyes, "They are moving even faster than I had anticipated, and according to recent intelligence sent by Mance Rayder, two more of those stubborn wildling villages who refused to move, with a combined population of 500, had disappeared overnight, shrinking further the space for the living."


Robb did not quite know how to feel after hearing this news, and it was especially difficult for him to hear about this king of the wildlings and how he was gathering his men in unimaginable numbers just beyond the Wall.


Even if it was to save the world, the heir of the North couldn't bring himself to muster up any sympathy for those wildlings, as not only was there was too much bad blood there, but he also knew for sure that no matter how Jon put it, there was no way for him to be sure that the Wildlings would ever willingly leave when this was all over, and that the survivors would not just attack the nearby lord to try and occupy their lands.


In fact, he was quite certain that they would not even wait for the so-called final war, and would just start raiding indiscriminately the moment they came inside.


But Jon's argument of 'There would be no land left to contest if we lost the war to the dead' was too solid for him to argue against, so Robb could only reluctantly compromise.


It was not all bad, though, because at least Jon had agreed with him that no wildling would be let through until they had a much, much larger army on their side to control them all. But for that to happen, they would need to gather not only all the Lords and their armies in the North, but also convince those from the other Kingdom that the threat was real.


Which, according to Jon, was almost impossible at the moment, as in times of peace, most men, especially Nobles, liked to bury their heads in the sand until the threat was almost at their doors, so they would have to go for a much simpler option...to use the authority of the King.


As no matter what kind of man he was, Robert was still the one who ruled the Seven Kingdoms, and had the power to command all the Lords to bring their men for war, if he was ever to be convinced that the army of the dead was real.


But Robb did not think that Jon needed to go this far just to make the King have a favourable impression of him, "It doesn't seem worth it..."


Besides, from the very beginning, Robb had been under the impression that Jon was not too fond of Robert, even if he acted the way he did in front of everyone today.


"As I told you before, the situation has changed faster than I anticipated," Jon said in a deep voice, as he stood up and went towards the window looked at the darkness slowly swallowing the sun on the horizon, "So we no longer have the leisure to take it slow and let things fall in place... we need to be proactive and take control of situation if we want to ready in time."


"Could it be..." Robb asked in a whisper before an excited look suddenly appeared on his face, and he jumped up to ask, "Are you finally going for it? Are you at last ready to throw in your gauntlet?"


Ever since Robb had learned the truth of Jon's heritage, he had been begging him to go for the throne, to throw in the gauntlet using his name... even if it meant starting a war, because as far as he was concerned, it was inevitable anyway considering that it was only a matter of time before the truth behind the King's children came out, so they might as well seize the initiative.


And besides, he could not think of a person who was more suited for ruling than his own brother, because one only needed to see the positive changes he had brought in the North in just a few years with his 'suggestions', so there was never any concern of him leading the Kingdom to ruin in the first place.


But alas, Jon had never agreed to it, always saying that there was no more thankless job in the world than being a king, and that it would be too limiting, and that he would not be able to travel the world, see the scenery, sail the world's oceans, and such nonsense... but now, 'Perhaps he finally had a change of heart,'


"Maybe," Jon answered ambiguously as he turned his head sideways to smile at him, "But that is all too far into the future; we need to take it slow for now."


"How slow?" Robb asked with narrowed eyes.


"How does the Master of Coin sound for a start?"


///


Alms for a storyteller, good ser?
A single coin keeps the fire burning.
Become a great benefactor today, and get some magical benefits on the black market... *Wink*Wink*

 

[ATP]

yup.with his rat,he should find proofs that Baelish is stealing money from King.What next...he still need united Kingdom,not civil war.Varys must die,too.Maybe Tywin.

 

[LazyWizard]

"If I were to perish out there tomorrow... Will you do me a favour, Ser Barristan?"


The man who asked this question had his back turned to him, his eyes staring down at the large army camp bustling with pre-battle nerves under the light of the setting sun.


And other than him, there were also a few other royal guards standing some distance away, keeping watch at the forest behind them with alert looks in their eyes.


"You will not die, your grace. I assure you, I will protect you!" Ser Barristan replied urgently, involuntarily taking a step forward in his haste.


"No man can fight against fate, Ser. You must have learned a little about that after following me for so many years," The man replied as he turned around with a calm smile on his face. "Besides, I did add 'if', did I not? So you can rest assured that I am not suicidal... or at the very least, there is still hope in my heart that the seven will hear your ardent prayers and will decide to help me at the last moment," he said with a faint chuckle, but Ser Barristan could not find any humour in this situation.


"But—"


"All men must die, Ser Barristan. That is one truth of life, and that is what makes it precious and beautiful," he said with such a bright look in his eyes that it was almost unbearable to look at, as the knight knew that the prince believed in those words from the bottom of his heart, that he one of the rare people who did not care for his life and death, "So just accomodate my selfishness one last time, Ser, and I promise I shall not ask anymore favour from you if I die tommorow," he chuckled once again trying to make light of the situation.


"Your wish is my... command, your grace," Barristan bowed and answered through gritted teeth as if the words were being pulled out of his mouth.


"I am truly grateful for this," The prince immediately sighed in relief as if a great burden had been lifted off his shoulder, before he became serious again, "There are two paths in front of us tomorrow, either we lose, or we win, and if we happen to lose, then I hope that you consider... surrendering instead of resisting until the end."


"What?! No!" the Knight shouted almost reflexively in anger before he realised what he had done, and immediately kneeled, "Please, your grace, not this... just do not ask me this..." he urged in a quivering voice, almost begging him.


There is nothing more disgraceful for a knight, for a Kingsguard, than to even think of surrendering his arms to an enemy of his Lord, especially if it was one who had killed his Master.


It would be more painful for him than a thousand deaths.


"I know I ask much of you, Ser," The man said with a sad smile, "But this is the only way..." he sighed as he turned around, "Robert... he will surely be happy to grant you a pardon, I know it. After all, you were originally from Stormlands, and he respects you a lot."


"I can't betray my oath, your grace... Otherwise, what would it all have been for? I stood by as your father committed countless atrocities, all while telling myself that I am a Kingsguard, that I am bound by an oath, but if I break it now... I..."


"You will not be breaking anything, Ser Barristan," The man explained gently, knowing well how humiliating it must be for him as a knight, but he, too, had no choice. "You may serve him in name, but in essence, you will still be following my will. So by doing this, you shall perhaps become an even greater knight, because I do not think there are many men out there who follow their Lord's desires even after his demise. Though, unfortunately, I can't say many will know of your valour."


"Why, your grace? Why should I live? Why can't you..." He asked in a broken, frustrated voice, gripping his sword so tightly that his bones began to hurt, "What use would my worthless life be if you are gone?"


Ser Barristan could not clearly remember how it had all gone so wrong, how they had all ended up in this situation.


No, perhaps, he and everyone else knew that the starting point of all this turmoil was that blasted Tourney; it was that which ruined all their hopes for the silent coup.


They had done so much, prepared so many contingencies, only for it all to go to waste because of a single mistake.


And that is what frustrated them the most, because they had all individually gone to ask this of the prince, of why he had given it all up for just a single girl... the reason behind it all.


Because there had to be one, as all of them knew in their hearts that it was almost impossible for the truth to be as everyone out there already believed, that the Prince had simply become enamoured with the girl at first sight, that he lost control of his senses because of her beauty, and that it all merely... lust.


No one knew better than the Kingsguard, especially Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur Dayne, the kind of person the prince was, how very much unlike the other nobles he was, royalty or not.


And that he never let his base desires, or the power his station commands, ever get to his head.


In fact, in the time that Ser Barristan had known him, he had never even seen him go to a brothel or take advantage of a maid or even look at any woman inappropriately.


Even though it was as common as drinking water for anyone with even a lick of noble blood in their veins to try and force themselves on any girl they fancy.


He was a gentle soul through and through, the kind who would rather spend his day reading in a library, or playing his harp in a small tavern to bring smiles of joy to the tired smallfolks, rather than indulge in wine and women like his father.


And even though the man abhorred the thought of fighting and killing, he still woke up early every single day and went to the training grounds because he knew that it was his duty as the prince of the realm... so for such a principled man to break his oath to his wife just because of a momentary impulse seemed almost impossible.


But the answer he gave them was such that... they could not even argue.


After all, how could one dispute when one brings up the fate of the world, the necessary sacrifice for all the living to survive the... long night.


There had always been some rumours among the Nobility and the Maesters that the Targaryens were sometimes blessed with the power to see the future in their dreams.


The most famous examples of them are Daenys the Dreamer, the one who saw the doom and saved the Targaryens by bringing them to Westeros, and Daeron the Drunk, who was said to possess the eerie ability to speak about the future in riddles that somehow always turned out to be true in hindsight.


And there are even debates among the Maesters that Aegon I Targaryen, the first king of Westeros, was particularly motivated to conquer the Seven Kingdoms because of a threat he saw in his dreams.


The Nobles, of course, always believed it to be horseshit or fortunate coincidences that happened to match with the ramblings of someone who was suffering from the famous Targaryen madness.


But Barristan knew that there was some truth to all that.


Because he had seen too many of those fortunate coincidences happen in front of his eyes over the years, starting from when the prince was just a young lad.


Sometimes it would be simple things, such as the premonition of a particularly strong storm, or a substantial feeling that the upcoming winter would be particularly short, but other times it would be an ominous dream of someone's tragic death, whether it be an old cook living in the same castle or a beloved guard far away in Dragonstone.


But these sure predictions were few and far between, and most of the time, the dreams were vague visions of people he had never seen before, but knew for sure that they were his family, whether from the past or the future.


He saw their struggles in great detail, their sorrows, their heartaches, and their triumphs.


Of course, only Ser Barristan and Ser Dayne had ever been privy to these details, and even the Prince's mother only ever had a vague idea about this.


That too was because, in the beginning, when he was but a child, he would often run to share those vague visions with her, of seeing Winter that never ends, of seeing endless darkness, of watching great tragedies occur over the Seven Kingdoms, of seeing the dead... walk.


But of course, as all mothers do with their child's fears, the queen only ever attributed it to simple nightmares, and just silently coaxed him with false promises, so slowly the Prince stopped sharing them out loud.


But for anyone who was close to him, it was easy to see the signs, to understand that the episodes never stopped.


They would see the prince off for the night after a feast; he would go to sleep with a smile on his face, but the very next morning, he would wake up with a pale face and haunted eyes as if he had just survived a deadly fever.


And then for weeks on end, he would have that melancholic look in his eyes as if the weight of the whole world was on his shoulders. He would isolate himself and brood while staring into nothingness, with no one able to point out the trigger behind this abrupt sadness.


But even more than those infrequent dreams, there were two that he was obsessed with more than any else, the ones that he believed in fully.


In fact, one of them was so famous that people from all over the world believed in it, from various kinds of charlatans, such as the wood witches, to the numerous Red priests and priestesses in Essos, which honestly did not help much for its authenticity.


The prophecies he was speaking of here were, of course, the one with the 'Prince that was promised,' and the more Targaryen exclusive one of 'The dragon must have three heads.'


These were the ones that the Prince had always been running around, trying to fulfil over all these years.


Sadly, though, destiny was fickle, and even the second one, which should have been easy for most men in their prime age to achieve, turned absurdly challenging because of the frailty of the Dornish princess, as the Maesters had made it clear that another pregnancy would likely kill her, and the prince could never accept something so cruel.


But of course, the solution he found for the problem was not much better either.


Alas, this time, not even the prince could have foreseen the chaos his single decision would cause in the realm, and by the time he learned about it all in his distant hideout in Dorne, it was far too late for him to change anything.


The madness of his father, the recklessness of the Stark heir, the bravery of the Old Arryn, the cunning of the Fish, the silent revenge of the Lannister Lord, and the cowardly acceptance of the Nobles in the capital who stood and silently watched the tragedies happen.


And most cruel of all was the hidden, sinister hand, because of whom the crucial letter that the Stark girl had sent to her family, explaining that it was all her choice and that she had not been coerced, disappeared.


All of these incidents occurred in the short span of a few months, as if someone was pushing the wheels of history from behind, pushing for the downfall of the Targaryens, making one feel as if it were all... predestined.


And now, even with the prince finally here, it was useless, as the cards had all been dealt, and the board already set, and the possibility of talks of peace had been repeatedly rejected, so the war was inevitable.


What was worse was that the prince could not even step aside and let them through to deal with his father.


Because, while not many knew about it, the Mad King had gone so mad that he was holding little Aegon, Rhaenys, and their mother hostage not only against the Dornish to force their army to fight for him, but he was also using it against the Prince to make him come out here and do his bidding.


How tragic it was that even as the Prince of the Realm, the man couldn't even ensure the safety of his own children and his wife.


Barristan could only imagine the frustration and helplessness he must have felt when he was turned away at the gates of the Capital and not even allowed to meet his family for what could have been the last time...


But even so... for him to speak of his death like this...


"We all have our part to act in this play of Fate, Ser, and while I am uncertain about mine, I know for sure that your part does not end tomorrow, and that you still have a long and gruelling journey in front of you." Prince answered with a solemn look on his face, "We will all need to make sacrifices for the future of this world when the time comes, for the countless innocent men, women, and children out there, for all the living."


"I understand," Barristan replied, knowing that it would be pointless to argue with him when he got caught up in his vague dreams like this, as if he were seeing a different world, so he did not continue his line of questions and asked instead, "How will serving Robert help, your grace?"


He was outwardly showing compliance, but inwardly the knight's will firmed up, and he decided that regardless of what happened out there tomorrow, he would not leave the prince's side, and even if he had to fight the whole army by himself, 'I will stop Robert, and keep the prince alive, even if it is the last thing I do.'


"It will," Rhaegar's voice turned faint as he once again turned his back to him, "The Targaeryen dynasty may end soon, but our seeds will survive somehow... and they will grow, through suffering and adversity, like sword tempered in fire, stronger for every burn they endure, and eventually the time will, you will know when, when you shall have the opportunity to serve a dragon once again, one who you will be satisfied with, even more than me, you must take that chance, Ser Barristan... you must..."


...


The old man's eyes snapped open as he looked around wildly with panic in his eyes.


The familiar haunting voice still echoed in his ears, telling him to wait... but the very next moment, what came into his sight was still the room of the Lord Commander in the White Sword Tower, which he had inhabited for many a decade, and not the clearing from his dream, leaving him sighing in disappointment.


After taking a few deep breaths to gather his bearings, Barristan opened his eyes fully and grunted as he sat up on the cot before he began massaging the various joints in his arms and his knees to relieve the faint ache that seemed to have become a constant companion of his starting a few years ago.


'I am getting old,' he thought as he slowly stood up and began going through with the familiar routine that he had been following faithfully ever since he became a Kingsguard.


Drank a glass of water, used the privy, washed his face and his legs, changed his clothes, and finally cleaned his equipment before wearing his armour.


His body subconsiously performed these with precise movements as if he had done them a thousand times, but all while his mind kept going back to that dream of his wondering if it was sign, after all, he had not seen that one in a long, long time, and not matter how he tried to evade it or explain it away as a coincidence, he knew very clearly in his heart that the reason behind it was that... boy.


There were many times in the past decade or so when he had been tempted to leave, to just pack a small bag, cover his face and head to Essos to find the last remaining Targaryens wandering alone.


He had made many a detailed plan regarding this, of how he would go about it, the path he would take out of the capital, the ship he would board, the disguises he would wear, the Free City he would land in, and how he would go about searching for them.


But every single time, he stopped himself at the last moment, because he knew that he would be taking the easy path out, that he would not be fulfilling the wishes of the Prince as he intended it, because if taking care of the prince and the princess in hiding had been the goal from the beginning, then he never would have been told to surrender to Robert.


So he always convinced himself that he still needed to be patient, not to be impulsive, and to silently wait for that moment the prince had talked about.


But now...


'Perhaps the time is already here,' came the unbidden thought into his mind before he immediately shook his head, 'It is still too soon to tell; I need to observe slowly to be sure.'


Clearing his head of all of his cluttered thoughts, Barristan opened the door to his room and climbed down the stairs into a corridor that led straight towards the large training grounds in the Red Keep.


It was still towards the end of the hour of the wolf, and barely a hint of dawn had appeared on the horizon, so there were not many people out there during this time except for the guards on night duty, and a handful of maids and servants who were hurrying towards their master's room to prepare for the day.


The reason he woke up so early every single day was that he liked to have the training grounds all to himself for about an hour or so, so that he could peacefully go through his conditioning routine before it became cluttered with the rabble of Nobles that the King had deigned to host in the Red Keep that day.


But unfortunately for him, his regular routine hit a snag that day, as when he arrived at the grounds, he found it already occupied by the person he least expected to see here.


"Ah, there you are, Ser Barristan. I was hoping to run into you here," said the boy, who had been the reason behind his hazy dreams.


///


Like you probably already know by now, if you want to read ahead, then you can head towards that mysterious site where patron gods come to bless their subjects.


And even if you do not have much gold to offer, you can still indulge in a week's worth for free as a trial.

 

[sandmanwake]

And most cruel of all was the hidden, sinister hand, because of whom the crucial letter that the Stark girl had sent to her family, explaining that it was all her choice and that she had not been coerced, disappeared.

Click to shrink...

A letter from Lyanna that got lost is a popular thing in fanfics, but it wouldn't have mattered. It wasn't the first time a Targaryen prince went behind everyone's back and married the betrothed of the Baratheon Lord and the last time it happened, they nearly had a war also. It was only when the king had a Targaryen princess marry the Bartheon Lord that they avoided the war.

 

[ATP]

So,poor Jon must become King,not succesfull merchant.Such disgrace.

 

[TheCuriousGuest]

Lol, Lyanna couldn't convince her family to break her betrothal for years, what good would her letter do when they can't even trust she wasn't forced to write it?
She was another's betrothed on the way to marry him and had no say, regardless of if it arrived or not, would have had better luck with Prince talking to the Stark Lord with her support as Stark was marrying his Heir to Catelyn and Daughter to Robert... More likely to have him see potential and consider agreeing with the Prince than expect his rebellious runaway daughter's letter to persuade him after years of failing.

War would have happened as they'd still demand she return and marry Robert, pointing out said betrothal and neither Lord Stark or the King gave permission/blessing, likely meet a similar fate and trigger King's madness.
Think all that'd change is having the King see Religion of The Seven as an enemy for aiding his son's mad plan to marry behind his back.

Lyanna wasn't truly why so many went to war, not many cared about a Northern Lady being kidnapped as the King already doing much worse, it was the King's extreme actions that made peaceful solution impossible and pushed many nobles into rebelling.
He made it clear that even the highest nobility weren't safe by imprisoning a Warden and his Heir, disregarded the 'sacred' trial by combat that most would have thought kept them (somewhat) safe even with his madness and then he showed he'd end their entire families by demanding 'honourable' Lord Arryn kill two people that he'd not only fostered as his own children for years, but were also Wardens of North and Stormlands.

 

[LazyWizard]

"Ser Barristan?" Jon called again with a raised eyebrow as the most famous knight in Westeros looked at him with a dazed look in his eyes.


"Did you say you were waiting for me?" Barrisatan cleared his throat as he asked with a frown on his face, looking uncomfortable for some reason, "How did you know that I would come here so early?" he asked distractedly, his mind still unable to comprehend the sheer coincidence that the boy he had been thinking about, the one because of whom he had spent the whole night without much sleep and having too many restless dreams, somehow appeared in front of him the first thing in the morning.


Now that he looked at him again, the Old Knight could not even remember the exact feature that had given it away to him, made him so assured that he had the blood of a dragon in him.


Because now that he was face to face with him once again, he saw only the North in the boy, specifically the Stark blood which was even more prominent in him than in his half-brother, 'Was it just a trick my mind played on me yesterday? Am I really so desperate that I am forcing my expectation on a random boy who is completely unrelated to them?'


"I did not know that you would come here, Ser, I just hoped that if I came to the only training ground in Red Keep, then I would eventually come across you," Jon answered with a shrug, "And as for the time, well... this is usually when I began my training back in Winterfell, so that was simply a fortunate coincidence,"


"Oh," Barristan slowly nodded, his eyes still looking a little unfocused, before he suddenly shook his head, "So did you need me for something, lad? What can this old man do for you?"


"I thought it would have been obvious why I wanted to meet you, Ser," Jon said with a smile on his face as he tapped the training sword at his waist that he brought along with him, "I am quite sure that I am not the first one to seek you out."


"Definitely not the first one," Barristan murmured with a wry smile on his face, "But usually when they come, they do so with the intention of learning from me, for me to impart on them my 'valuable' skills, but judging from your stance, I take it you are not here for that, are you?"


"Ah, no," Jon said as he sheepishly shook his head, "No offence, Ser, but I think I have passed the young age where I was malleable enough to learn from different Masters and adopt their fighting lessons into my combat system. I feel I have now become too rigid, so I think it would be better for me to see the style that I have adjusted into, to the very end."


"That... is a rare introspection, lad," Ser Barristand said with a raised eyebrow, looking a little impressed, "I do not often see young people with such a clear vision of their skills."


"Well, I have always been told that I am somewhat of an old soul... someone who is too mature for his own good," Jon replied with a helpless smile on his face, "So, it feels good to hear that there are some benefits to that too,"


"I see," Barristan replied, internally agreeing with the assessment of those unknown speakers.


After all, the brat had barely been in this world for little more than a decade and had already accomplished far more than any other man could have done with his whole life, let alone someone around his age.


"So, what did you think, Ser? Will you do me the honour?" Jon asked again as he looked at the knight with anticipation in his eyes, for some reason feeling even more nervous than he had been when he asked Margaery out on a date.


"Is there any particular reason you are so eager to swing your blade at an old man such as me?" Barristan asked as he slowly moved towards the large rack of weapons standing against the wall, while loosening the sword belt at his waist and taking it off to place it against the wall, before he went to pick up a sword that was almost identical to his real sword in length and width.


"Is the reason not obvious?" Jon asked with a tilt of his head, "After all, you are the one whose name will inevitably come up when someone thinks about the greatest warrior alive in Westeros. So, of course, I want to have a good bout with you and see how much I am still lacking before I reach the highest peak," he iterated calmly as if becoming the best of the best was an inevitability.


"Ah, I am sure there are many out there and in here," he jerked his head towards the Red keep as he came back to stand in front of him, "Who would violently disagree with you on that?"


"But there are a lot more who would agree with me, wouldn't you say?"


Barristan stayed silent and scrutinised him for a few moments before nodding his head, "I can agree to your request, and go on a few bouts with you, in fact, I will even try my best to correct any mistakes I see along the way, but in exchange... I hope that you can answer a simple question of mine at the end."


"Oh sure," Jon answered with a bright smile on his face, looking completely unbothered, as he immediately took out his practice sword and began a light warm-up right there, and then to get his blood flowing.


"Are you not afraid that I will ask for some great secret of you, lad?" Barristan asked with an amused look at the quick reply, "Perhaps the recipe of your exquisite mirrors? I heard they sold for quite a fortune yesterday."


"The nobles of Kingslanding would have already worn down your doorstep with a mountain of gifts if you were the sort to be moved by wealth like some of your other brothers," Jon answered with a smile that was not quite a smile, "I hear Ser Meryn is looking to buy his third mansion in his little nephew's name,"


Barristan was not quite sure about the authenticity of this rumour, but knowing the kind of man Trant was, he would not be very surprised if the gossip turned out to be true.


After all, as the commander, he knew better than anyone how simple it was for a Kingsguard to abuse their position, especially in the current era of Baratheons, who were very... laid back about these kinds of things.


Their job was such that they were constantly in a close proximity to the royals, and they also had a considerable amount of authority over the royal guards and the citywatch, so it was easy to see why some nobles would go to great lengths to please some of them and get them on their side.


After all, a few words here and a small compliment there could go a long way to change the fortunes of a small noble family, and that was worth a lot of gold in some people's view.


But Barristan had long since closed himself off to these dirty politics, and even if he saw it he usualy turned a blind, because he knew very well that he was the commander of the Kingsguard in name only, and that the true power lay at the feet of the queen, her brother, and their father, or else if it were up to him, men such as Borros Blunt, and Meryn Trant would have never stepped foot into the sacred brotherhood of Kingsguard.


Shaking his head to clear these wayward thoughts, Barristan's eyes suddenly sharpened as he raised his sword, "If you are done warming up, lad then shall we get started?" he asked with a small smile, unable to deny that he was also very curious to see the prowess of the boy who was said to have killed one of the most notorious pirate king in Narrow Sea, and destroyed his massive fleet all on his own.


Though from what he remembered during the War of Ninepenny Kings, the pirates were usually not very skilled in the art of combat and were more known for their cruelty, or brute strength, and usually won by overwhelming their enemies with numbers.


"I was just waiting for you to say that," Jon grinned as he stopped twisting his torso and stood up straight and slowly raised his sword in an eerily similar stance to the man in front of him.


"Let's... dance." Before the words had fully left his mouth, Jon lunged forward at the fastest speed his body could muster, his sword stabbing straight towards the neck of the Old Knight in front of him.


But as was to be expected from one of the greatest swordsmen alive, the man wasn't fazed in the slightest by the 'surprise' attack, and parried the sword with a simple flick, and then in the same motion counterattacked fiercely, all with the calmness of a still pond.


Watching the sword coming towards his face, Jon also reacted unflusteredly and simply took a step back to dodge, and then, using the momentum of his deflected sword, he went back into the attack with renewed vigour, and unleashed a ferocious storm of attack on the old knight.


Left, Right, Up, and Down!


Jon came at him from all angles, but no matter how fast he was or how much strength he put into his sword, the response he received was as stable as a rock.


Using small, uncomplicated movements, the knight was breaking down Jon's fierce barrage of attack, which was capable of taking down almost 90 per cent of the warriors out there in a few strikes, as if they were child's play.


One of them was an embodiment of youthful rigour, with the strength and speed that represented humanity's peak, while the other was showing instincts and reaction speed that were very much abnormal, as if the old knight's body was making the decisions on its own with no input from the slow brain.


And it's not as if Jon was the only one attacking, as Barristan also sneaked in an attack here and there, making use of every opening that he found.


But Jon was not an easy mark either, and seemed to be on the lookout for all the tricky manoeuvres, feints, and sudden ambushes that the old knight could think of, and dodged them all by a wide breath every single time as if he knew they were coming.


It made the Old knight feel very strange, as if from just a twitch of his muscles the boy could deduce his intentions... which should have been impossible.


Baristan had duelled against many a great opponent before, and of those, the only ones that had given this much trouble in the grounds were either ones with unreal agility, such as Jamie Lannister, or those with the godly technique, like Ser Arthur Dayne.


But this was the first time that he was battling against someone who was still so young, and far from his prime, yet commanded a physique that was no less than most of the top fighters out there, and not only that, his combat system was also a cohesive whole, and the Old knight was barely able to discern any glaring mistakes in it, which was saying something considering even old veteran knights were full of flaws in his eyes.


So in essence, the boy had it all, from flawless speed and agility to a remarkable amount of strength that he was using generously against him, and not to mention a perfect foundation in the basics, which let him fully unleash his potential.


The man had rarely seen a perfect specimen like this before, not since the time of Arthur Dayne, and he could confidently say that not even young Jamie was as good as the boy in front of him when he was his age.


'Now, let's see how long he can last with this,' he thought, choosing to limit his movements to the lowest and slow down his stamina consumption, deciding to wear down the boy to evaluate him fully.


'After all, one was bound to get tired if they kept going at this intensity,'


But alas, he was wrong once again...


As even the boy's resilience was monstrous, and he kept up his ferocious attack for almost a quarter of an hour.


And by this time, even the old knight, who had always trained hard to keep his limbs in top condition using daily gruelling conditioning, could feel the muscles in his arms and legs begin to burn from overexertion.


Thankfully, though, just as his response began to grow a little sluggish, the boy voluntarily took a step back and brought their bout to a momentary halt.


"Are you even a human? I couldn't get a single hit in," Jon panted in between breaths with a pure look of admiration on his face.


During the last few minutes, the boy had been trying his hardest to get just one hit in, but no matter where he came from, the man's defence was like a fortress in front of him, and seemed to have created an illusory sphere of absolute shield around him, not letting his sword even an inch in.


"I should be asking that of you, boy," Barristan replied with a wry smile on his face, as he also tried to get his breathing under control, "What kind of training have you gone through to get such monstrous strength and speed at your age?"


"Just consistent effort and a good diet," Jon answered with a modest smile, but he couldn't quite hide the fact that he was pleased with the compliment.


"Hm," Barristan looked thoughtful for a few moments before he suddenly asked, "Tell me, lad, have we met before? Or have you watched a Tourney that I have participated in?"


"Huh? No... Why do you ask?" Jon questioned with a confused look on his face.


"That is quite strange then," The Old knight murmured with a strange look on his face, "Because for some reason I get the sense that you are very familiar with my style of combat as if we had crossed swords many a time before. It is a very... odd feeling,"


"How could that be? I would have definitely remembered if I ever met you before," Jon chuckled while scratching his head with a perfectly innocent expression on his face, but inwardly he was cursing, 'Damn it! This old man is quite sharp,'


The truth of the matter was that Jon was indeed not a stranger to the Old Man combat system, and in fact, the same could be said for almost all the orthodox methods out there that the top noble warriors learned from their families.


Ever since he had gotten his hands on Frost, and learned to warg inside her for prolonged periods of time, he had been using her to make lengthy trips to all the castles around Westeros to go spy on the finest warriors that he knew of from the books, from Kingsguard such as Barristan, and Jamie Lannister, to Royces in Vale, Martells in Dorne, and all the others.


He watched their bouts, their training regimens, what they focused on, their footwork, and even their preferred diets. Jon did not miss a single thing and extracted all he could from them, and then compiled the best parts of everyone to make them his own.


"Is that so?" Barristan murmured before shaking his head and deciding not to think about it any further.


And for a few minutes after that, both of them just stayed silent as they slowly recovered their spent stamina.


And then, as if they had decided it beforehand, they simultaneously looked up, and Jon smiled as he asked, "Another round?"


"Here I was afraid that you were already done for the day," The Old knight said with a cheeky grin as he once again raised his sword.


"Not even close," Jon grinned back, "And I hope you stop holding back this time, old man, because I know for sure that the greatest swordsman alive can dole out a lot more than just that."


Jon was quite sure of his judgment regarding this, because in the previous bout, the old man had only ever been on the defensive as if he was evaluating a junior instead of coming at him with the intent to defeat him.


And while it was indeed entertaining to strike against a target that provided such a good response, he now wanted to feel the thrill of fighting the top monsters that he had only ever read about in the books.


"Oh, are you sure about that?" Barristan asked with a raised eyebrow, and the knight was not being arrogant here, but he did not think there was much of a chance for the boy to defeat him at the moment, perhaps in the future, when he fully realised his potential, but not now.


And he did not want this bright young man, who was probably the best in his age range, to feel dejected just because an old man used his decades of experience to beat him.


"Of course. Come at me!"


"Good!"


The Old Knight said and immediately lunged forward at a speed that was completely unlike anything he had shown until now.


He then launched a ferocious string of attacks, which made Jon's previous assault feel as if he were a squire in training.


The sword moved so fast through the air that Jon only ever saw a blur of shadows, and even when he defended himself, their weapons always met in such a way that the knight could wield his greatest force while Jon could only exert less than half of his strength.


It made him feel as if he was dealing with a completely different kind of enemy, as if the previous turtle-style combat of the Old Knight was just an illusion, and this ferocious hurricane in human form was his true self.


He had never been overwhelmed like this before, not even against the mountain, because while Clegane had a giant blade, and his beastly strength working for him, it wasn't of much use against Jon as he was never even able to touch his clothes, but against this Old knight, even the practise sword felt as if it was the deadliest of blade, making Jon feel as if every swing was coming for his life.


Each attack followed the shortest trajectory towards his vitals, and as if he knew the law of levers intimately, the old knight always used the least amount of force to dole out the greatest punishment.


And as if that wasn't all, every strike of his was connected to the next one seamlessly, leaving no space for Jon to breathe in between, and he didn't forget to add all kinds of crafty manoeuvres and tricky ambushes in between, leaving Jon so flustered that he almost bit his tongue.


In the end, barely three minutes into the bout, Jon finally could not withstand this overbearing assault any more and made a small mistake of taking a step too short, and almost in the next moment, his sword was deflected out of his hand, his feet were swept from under him, and he found himself at the pointy end of the sword.


"I lost," Jon said in between ragged breaths, sweat pouring down his face as his chest rose up and down in sharp, uneven rhythms.


"You did," Barristan said calmly as he removed his sword and took a step back, watching the boy pat his clothes and get up.


And what pleased the Old knight the most was that he saw no sign of any disappointment or resentment in the boy; instead, there was only contemplation and quiet reflection on the duel he had gone through.


In fact, Jon was far from dejected by the loss—if anything, he was exhilarated by it, for it had been a long time since anyone had pushed him this hard in a practice bout and defeated him.


As most of the time when Jon found himself against opponents like this, who could hold their own against him, it would usually be a matter of life or death. And this meant that he would have to try his hardest to kill the enemy, and when Jon tries his hardest... his enemies do not survive.


Thinking along those lines, one could even say that he had held back against the old knight, or at least did not use every trick in his sleeve, or else he did not think he would have lost the fight so unseemly... but that would have made the bout redundant, so he did not do so.


In his mind, Jon had divided his fighting ability into three levels, where level one was just his normal base strength, the one he used just now, only utilising his body, and the pure martial skills that he had developed over the years.


Level 2, for him, was simply when he kept Frost placed right above him and used his connection with her to have a god's eye view of the entire situation in the back of his mind, and it had an enormous effect on how he saw the flow of battle and made him feel as if playing a game.


And it was even more of a godly assist when it came to a haphazard melee or a war-like situation where there were too many enemies around to keep in sight, and in those circumstances, having a clear view of your vicinity could be the difference between life and death, whether it be to use your surroundings against your opponents or to help you scout the perfect path to get away.


Then finally comes the Level 3, his so-called trump card, the ability he had unearthed in that life and death battle against the Mountain, the skill Bullet Time.


Speaking simply, it was when he deepened his connection with Frost to the next stage, where he would have all the facilities of his friends' supercomputer-like brain at his beck and call, ready to process every piece of information that his eyes received in excruciating detail.


It was a very overpowered feeling, as if the world had slowed down just for him, and he had all the time in the world to think the best way out of any trouble he found himself in.


And it was this that made him almost invincible against any warrior out there, whether they be a giant like Mountain, or a legendary warrior like Barristan Selmy.


But he was not here to win, he was here to learn and have a little bit of fun... so he never used his cheats.


"Is your rest over, boy?" Barristan's voice suddenly called, and Jon looked up to see the Old Knight smiling, looking almost fully recovered, watching him with a raised eyebrow, "Or do you perhaps need a few more minutes of rest for your weary soul?"


"I hope you do not regret provoking me later, Old man, and come to me complaining about your aching limbs" Jon grinned as he raised his sword once again, "Because I can do this all day."


"Oho, then let us see if you back your big words, lad—"


....


"Why are you still out here?" Jamie Lannister asked with a frown on his face, as he walked towards his nephew Joffrey Baratheon, standing on the balcony, staring down into the training grounds like a bystander instead of being there himself, finishing up his warm-up like he was supposed to.


But the boy either did not hear him or deliberately ignored him as he kept his eyes focused downwards, which ticked off the Kingsguard like nothing else, but just as he was about to berate the spoiled brat, he caught sight of the training grounds out of the corner of his eyes, and finally realised what had caught the boy's attention.


Ser Barristan, Jamie immediately recognised, but it took him quite a few moments to realise that the one who was fighting against him and almost holding his own was that Northerner bastard... and that impressed him more than he was willing to admit.


Not to mention, from the looks of how sweaty their garbs were and how the ground around them had turned a shade darker due to being soaked, this was definitely not their first bout.


"How long have they been at it?" he asked out loud as he turned towards the tall, ugly giant standing silently behind Joffrey.


"Who knows," Hound grunted out with a shrug, but his eyes remained focused down there with an intensity that was very much unlike the usual disinterest and indifference he carried around himself.


"More than two hours, as far as we are aware, Ser Jamie. I asked the other servants, and they told me that they had been here since before sunrise," whispered a timid attendant who Jamie vaguely remembered as a cousin from Lannisport who always followed Joffrey around doing his bidding. "They have been taking small breaks in between before going back into it."


"Hm," Jamie nodded as he turned back to the grounds, and now that he looked closely, he noticed that their bout attracted quite the varied audience.


From his brother, Robb Stark, to Loras Tyrell from Reach, to Brynden Tully, and Edmure Tully from Riverlands, and a lot of other knights and nobles that he never bothered remembering the names of, all of them were quietly standing on the sidelines, having forgotten about their own training, and focusing on this fight instead.


"Fools! They are making a big deal out of nothing," Joffrey suddenly mumbled, jealousy quite obvious in his voice, and then, as if having thought of a clever idea, he suddenly smiled and turned towards the stairs, "Hound, with me."


"Where are you going?" Jamie asked as he grabbed the boy's hand to stop him at the last moment.


"I am going to go put an end to this farce," The boy replied with a smug look on his face, "I need to show them how it is done."


The Lannister knight could easily see the thoughts running through the brat's head.


He must have heard the servant's words about them having been at it for almost two hours, and probably assumed them already at the end of their ropes, and thought that it would be easy for him to grab a victory if he jumped in now.


'Which was a very idiotic idea, considering his skills,'


No one was more familiar with the boy's skill than himself; after all, he was the one who had been teaching him since he was a snot-nosed brat on orders of his mother.


And while the brat had decent talent, he was too lazy and arrogant to truly put in the hours required in the training ground. So no matter how highly he thought of himself, he was, in the end, an above-average fighter who could only ever stand out against those mediocre knights out there, who probably would not even dare to go all out against the prince of the realm.


And even in the short period he had observed the boy, Jamie knew that the Northern bastard would be able to decimate the prince in a matter of seconds, no matter how exhausted he was, and if that happened... well, he did not want to deal with the aftermath of that.


"Your father is holding a tourney in the bastard's name, and your mother also liked the mirror he got for her as a gift," Jamie said after thinking for a few moments, "So I don't think it would be a very good idea if you go down there and humiliate him in front of everyone."


"What? I can't even teach the bastard a lesson just because he brought some trinkets," Joffrey asked with a displeased expression on his face. "He needs to be taught who his betters are, Uncle. We can't just let him prance around like that."


"Isn't the Tourney starting the day after tomorrow. I will enter the Meele this time, and do it in your stead."


"Really?" Joffrey asked with a surprised expression on his face, before he suddenly hesitated, "Can you beat him, though? The brat seems quite good,"


"Oh, that was never in doubt," Jamie replied with a small smirk as he looked down with a snort, "The boy wouldn't last more than a few minutes against me."


///


You know what to do if you can't wait for more...

 

[ATP]

Jon could win with Jaime thanks to his tricks,but - maybe he prefer to lost?

 

[oscar e Sampedro Lopez]

Thanks for the chapter Great story as always

"The boy wouldn't last more than a few minutes against me."

Click to shrink...

Murphy: "and I took that personally"