planning for the future

Ser Arnold held his spear in a ready pose and Jon took out his own. Bronze glittering in the harsh sunlight.

"A bronze spear tip? Why not use castle forged steel?", Ser Arnold asked as he looked at his weapon.

"I have my reasons", he shrugged. No way in hell would he tell him that the spear tip was magical, "ready to loose, old man?"

"Ha! I like your confidence, come at me, I'll give you the first strike", the knight said, his body ready to react. It was fortunate that he was fully prepared, not holding back, for Jon came at him with inhuman speed. The knight had just enough time to intercept the strike before he would've been hit in the shoulder, "not bad, but can you also defend?"

Ser Arnold sidestepped the next attack and then struck at the bastard's stomach, though he parried it with a bit of effort. This attack had only been a distraction though, as he landed a kick. It wasn't often that someone landed a hit on him. That man was strong… a grin broke out over his face as he kept attacking, dodging and defending. As the minutes dragged on, neither of them managed to defeat the other through pure skill but what managed to get him the win was his superior stamina. Whereas Ser Arnold got tired, panting and slowing down, Jon was not even breaking a sweat.

"I yield", the man thrust his spear into the ground, "you are good. Yet you lack form. You compensate by having pure speed and strength but your form is only okay. We won't be sparring in your training, you will be practicing proper form in the morning and evening. At noon, we will be protecting the young Lord Edric. Between the training and protecting, you will have three hours of free time, one and a half after morning training and one and a half before evening training."

"Yes ser", Jon nodded.

"Good, for today, you are excused", Ser Arnold waved him off.

Jon walked through the hallways, towards the maester's tower, where he wrote a letter to Arya and one to his 'father'. The letters were filled with all that had happened during his travels and his thoughts about it all.

The maester sent it with a raven away that evening.

Jon was about to leave, when Lord Dayne called out, "Jon"

"Yes my Lord?"

"Has Lord Stark told you about your father? Your true father?"

He knew? Looking back in his memories about the show and books, he knew that a few lords knew about his true parentage, though he didn't remember that Lord Dayne knew, "yes- he… just before I left, he told me"

"Good… good… I know that you uncle and aunt are somewhere in Essos right now. My communication with them stopped when ser Willem Darry died, a few years ago. Tell me, Aegon, do you wish to take the throne?", his eyes met Jon's searching his expression.

"I-", Jon paused, could he trust this man? Robert's Rebellion was hard on him, had taken his only brother and one of his sisters from him. If he couldn't trust him, who else could he trust?, "yes, I want the throne… it is my birthright!"

"Good… good… we will have to get you into a position of power. There are plenty of people who would just love to be rid of Robert. And Robert still thinks you are Eddard's bastard son. If we play our cards right, he himself can grant you a lordship, the first step towards getting you on the iron throne…" Lord Rick Dayne coughed violently, "if I am dead before we can finalise this deal, my son and sister will help you achieve it. They both know"

"So you are Aegon", a young voice came from the doorway. There stood an eight year old boy, with beautiful golden curls and a face that would soon surely turn handsome in age.

"Call me Jon for now"

"Yes, yes, you are Jon then… I expected silver hair or at least purple eyes", he looked him up and down, "you don't look anything like a Targaryen… but I trust my daddy"

Jon left for them to have some time to talk, one on one and walked through the corridors, past several statues of past lords and ladies, until he found the great hall, where dinner was being served. His stomach growled and so, he sat next to Greg and Bob.

"So… what do you two think about your knights?" Asked Jon.

Greg's face was as passive as ever, "he is fine"

Bob on the other hand groaned, "my knight beat me up all day, 'your legs are too far apart', 'your grip is too weak'... what about you Jon?"

"He is skilled and he even landed a few hits on me", Jon said.

"Of course he did, he is a trained knight and… wait, are you insinuating you… won?"

"Indeed I did"

"Wow… I knew you were good but… that good? To beat a fully trained knight?", Bob looked at him with child-like wonder.

"So, what is being served today?", Jon changed the topic of conversation.

"Oh, come on, don't switch the subject like that, how did you do it? A surprise attack? A subtle feint?"

"Fine if you want to know, I had more stamina than him, I tired him out", Jon said.

"Of course you did. No matter how many times we sparred, you never were tired after", Bob grumbled, "what is your secret?"

"My body is just built different. I don't know what else to say", Jon shrugged, picking up a drumstick and biting into it. He melted into the flavour. The Dornish knew how to season food right. There was pepper, chilli and some flavours he couldn't quite place.

Bob kept pestering him but he didn't engage any more, simply enjoying his meal as the chubby boy kept on talking. He was quite the chatter box