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A Clash of Vows

Summary:

Jon Snow is raised in Winterfell, his life to be dedicated as a sworn brother of the Night's Watch. Yet, the plan to take the black and make the vow gets put into question when the King of the Seven Kingdoms and his young sister attend the wedding of his brother, Robb and Roslin Frey.

Rhaegar Targaryen beat Robert at the Trident. Believes his child with Lyanna to be dead.

(I'll work on a better summary, just trying not to give anything away early. A few chapters in I will edit this.)

Notes:

Okay well, let me first start by saying that as this is an alternate universe in which Rhaegar survives the Trident and becomes King, naturally things will have been different with him as King instead of Robert. I flirted writing a recap sentence to try and explain what happened since the Trident till now, but it just got grotesquely out of hand. So I decided to make this a series, with a side story acting as a prelude to this that will be updated alongside this. The Prelude should be about 8 chapters in total, 6 during and post trident, then 2 chapter's during the Greyjoy Rebellion. I figure with everything I need to convey, those 8 chapters should do it. Most will be from Rhaegar and Ned Stark's POV. There will be some Rhaegar and young Jon bonding moments in the latter chapters.

That said, this a Dany and Jon based fic, that will be a slow burn. But I hope to be interesting. Thank you all!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Wolves Before a Wedding

Summary:

Message comes to Winterfell of the King's intent.

Notes:

Disclaimer: As you are well aware I am sure, I do not own this work or any material within it as it is the property of the genius that is George R.R. Martin and its media developers HBO.

Chapter Text


A Clash of Vows

A Series of Broken Promises

Chapter One: Wolves Before a Wedding


Jon I


"Rhaegar, Jon! The Dragon of the Trident, can you believe it? He's going to come, he's going to be at Robb's wedding," Arya gushed as she ran up to him giddily, bouncing up and down with her hands flailing against him.

"Aye, I hear you, pipe down there, don't let father overhear you being ecstatic for the King, don't forget the Black Stag and him were the best of mates back then," advised Jon, catching his sister by her upper arms, willing her to calm down. "Who told you the King's going to be there?"

"I overheard father and Maester Luwin talking about it," supplied Arya nonchalantly.

"You shouldn't be eavesdropping," chided Jon while Arya rolled her eyes with a flourish.

"But Jon, can't you imagine it, remember all the tales? Rhaegar facing off against Robert Baratheon with Blackfyre in hand," swooned Arya dreamily. "A real living, breathing Targaryen legend, just like Aegon and his sister-wives!"

His eyes rolled with a smile as he ruffled Arya's dark hair. "He didn't fight with Blackfyre, that sword was lost years before the rebellion happened, also, Aegon and his wives had dragons. The King is just as regular a Targaryen as his Mad Father was, they're not similar in the least, nor is the King a legend."

"Who says Rhaegar didn't fight with Blackfyre?" Demanded Arya.

"It's in the books, you know the stories, ask Old Nan or Maester Luwin if you don't believe me," he answered simply, walking by his sister to a rack of dull-edged swords neatly lined on the side of the courtyard.

"Old Nan doesn't know everything," pressed Arya, pursuing her brother as he lifted a sword up, feeling its weight in his palm and giving it a few swipes through the air.

"Assuming she's been living since the age of heroes, I'd say she knows a thing or two about House Targaryen and their Valyrian swords," returned Jon, a smirk gracing his long face as he reached for a chest protector of thatched wood hanging from a splintered post, fitting it on over his head before striding out to the center of the courtyard where Rodrik Cassel and his nephew Jory stood in the company of Robb and Theon Greyjoy.

"'Bout time you showed up, Snow, I was starting to think you tucked tail," jided Robb jokingly, he like Jon wore a thatched chest plate knotted together by string and planked wood. A dull sparring sword in hand.

"Only in your dreams I'd tuck tail from you, Stark," countered Jon, he turned to Arya and gave her a wink. "Wish me well."

"Like you need it," she replied with a laugh, settling in atop a crate, watching intently as he took a stance in the middle of the training yard.

"Brought the little Lady to squire for you, eh Snow? Mayhaps you've a better chance of besting Robb if you let her fight in your stead," called Theon, the boy barely a few namedays older than Jon rested his weight on his longbow as he laughed at his own jest.

Grumbling beneath his breath, Jon took up a stance, his two hands gripping the handle tightly as Robb walked forward in confidence to meet him, his brothers own blade held loosely in one hand at his side.

"Alright lads, you know the rules, avoid the head and first one to cry mercy or is unable to continue on, loses, simple as that," stated Rodrik, the man's white whiskers bristling as a swift breeze swept over the courtyard. "And mind your bleeding footwork, I trained you to fight like men, not a pair of babe's swinging sticks!"

Robb grinned as he brought his sparring sword to both hands, taking half a step forward, swinging lazily at Jon who blocked with ease.

"Shouldn't it be me that takes it lightly on you? You don't want that bride of yours seeing you all bruised up now do you?" Challenged Jon, knocking away another lazy swing by Robb.

"That would require you to land a hit on me first," shot Robb, a smirk stretching over his visage as he sidestepped a lunge by Jon.

"Is this a sparring match or a taunting match, swing you swines!" Called Rodrik gruffly.

"Quite right, Ser Rodrik," replied Robb, he turned to Jon with a curt nod. "What do you say, Jon, for old times sake?"

"For old times sake," he agreed, readjusting his stance, he prepared to rush forward. Both sharing a laugh before engaging one another, each taking what was likely to be their last sparring session seriously.


Eddard I


Eddard watched as Catelyn strung another thread through the blanket she knitted, the message in his hand felt heavy, its written word bearing news he'd not been hoping to hear. Whether the King had chosen to complicate the wedding with intent or had merely done so by mishap, he couldn't discern, all he knew was that to tell his wife would be to add oil to an open flame, but in the effort of being honest with her, or as honest as he could, he knew he had to divulge the King's message.

"You've made quite the progress, twas just a ball of yarn a moon ago," he announced at last, watching as she looked up, noticing his presence with a thin smile.

"When did you enter?" She questioned, laying her needles down.

"Just now. I should have announced myself, but I couldn't help watching you for a few moments," answered Eddard, he crossed the chamber floor so he could stand before her, his gaze lingering on her creation. "You've fine needlework, Cat'."

Catelyn smiled. "When you have had enough practice as I have, needlework comes easy. Though I take it you've not come here looking to put down the sword and take up the knitting needle with me, have you, dear husband?"

"Nay, I've not the skillset for it," he commented lightly, a chuckle escaping him. "In truth, I've come seeking a word with you."

Wearily, Catelyn put her sewn blanket and needles to the small round table at her side. "Words in regards to?"

"Where to begin," he mumbled, his fingers running over the parchment in his palm. "We received a raven from the capital this morning."

He noticed as she stiffened immediately, knowing just as he that they had only received two ravens from the capital since Rhaegar took the throne, the first, a summons demanding fealty, the second a call to war against Balon Greyjoy and his ill-fated rebellion.

"From the King?" She had to ask.

"Aye," he confirmed, grudgingly offering the message out for her to take.

Taking hold, Catelyn unraveled the paper, her eyes skimming over the text, her lips pursed by the time she finished. "The man forces us to accept this marriage for our son and has the audacity to attend it, the Gods be cruel."

Eddard sighed. "He'll be bringing his sister with him and a damned tourney."

"Lord Walder must've arranged this, the old weasel must be eager to charge his toll on those having to use that ruddy bridge of his." Scowled Catelyn. "A tourney... I can't fathom the reason for it."

"The King's going to be putting up the prize winnings for it, the expense is entirely his at no cost to us, but it'll extend our stay at the Twins a few more days than we had anticipated," he said grimly.

Catelyn gave a curt nod. "It's not the first time we've had to bear the King's presence for a short time."

Eddard was relieved, having half expected his wife to launch into a tirade at the news he brought, yet she stayed composed, but that wasn't to be for long, knowing the other bit of news he hoped to break to her.

"I've more to speak," he announced again, drawing her focus, eyes narrowed inquisitively.

"More?"

"It's about Jon," provided Eddard, loathing how she flinched at the boy's name as if having been struck.

"What about the bastard?" She questioned in return.

"I spoke with Robb this morning, he's determined to have Jon with him at his wedding, and in honesty, I find no fault in it," informed Eddard, bracing himself for the rage he knew she was to release.

"I forbid it!" Snapped Catelyn, her voice shrill as she leaped from her seat and jabbed a finger to Eddard's chest. "Having my son marry a Frey is an embarrassment in itself. To have my husband's bastard there on display for my father's bannermen is a shame I cannot bear!"

Eddard hung his head. "The boy is apart of this family, Cat', in all the years he's been here, I've made exceptions on your behalf. The boy didn't eat at the head table, he wasn't to feast with Lord's who visited, and he's held the name, Snow. Exceptions that were slights to him, but slights he bore all the same, without so much as a whinge. I'll not rob the boy of attending his brother's wedding day."

"Half-brother, by your blood and some Dornish whore," Catelyn spat, she turned from her husband, shoulders vibrating in anger. "I swear to you Ned Stark, if you permit your bastard to come it shall cause a rift between us, one so large I do not presume to see it mended."

"You will not speak ill of his mother," growled Eddard, his head snapping up, a glimmer in his eyes Catelyn hadn't seen since the day she arrived at Winterfell to find him and the bastard babe in his arms. "Jon is coming, and I'll say no more on the topic."

Catelyn moved to protest, but Eddard was already sweeping from their quarters, pushing past the doors to the open hallway and a leisurely Benjen Stark, black of hair and in a cloak and set of boiled leathers to match, his younger brother coming at him with open arms. The two men greeting one another in a firm hug, exchanging a few stiff pats to the others back, they broke from one another grinning, albeit Eddard's was a bit forced from having had a conversation with his wife.

"Ben? When did you arrive? Your last raven gave the impression you weren't able to attend," said Eddard, hands still on his brother's shoulders.

Benjen shrugged. "Was supposed to be out ranging till all that mess with Yohn Royce's little runt Waymar happened. The Old Bear's suspended any excursions beyond the Wall till an inquiry's been carried out, I was told you beheaded the deserter who was apart of Royce's ranging party? The man didn't happen to say anything of interest before you took his head, did he?"

"Not anything a man of sane mind would believe," answered Eddard tiredly, he met Benjen's gaze. "Though I'll say this, the man didn't seem the usual type of deserter... He had a look in his eye, a fear in them I've naught seen in the eye of a man before. He was rambling, incoherent things, things about the Others, Gods he was terrified, Ben'."

"His name was Gared," divulged Benjen. "He was a good brother, the man lost both his ears and even more extremities to the cold over the years, makes you wonder just how he had the courage to have served the Watch as long as he did. Though I suppose every man has his breaking point."

Eddard could only agree with a stiff, uncomfortable nod. He let his hands drop from Benjen's shoulders. "Is the deserter the only reason you've come home?"

"The Lord Commander asked if I'd inquire when I saw you, I assured him I would of course," replied Benjen lightly, he reached out and gave a firm pat to his elder brother's arm, a smile twisting at his chapped lips. "Of course I've my own reasons to have some time away from the Wall, I'd like to have a few pints of ale and see that rooster chested lad of yours marry the Frey lass, what's her name again?"

"Its been some time since I read the letter, Walder sent, but if I recall, its Roslin," he answered.

"If you recall? The lass is to be your Good-daughter in a fortnight, and you can't recall her name? You best figure it out quick before Robb ends up marrying the wrong girl," joked Benjen, enjoying how his brother's brow furrowed together. "Ah, lighten up, Ned'. It's a wedding, not the end of the world. Come now, it's Robb that should be shitting his breeches with nerves, not you. Speaking 'bout the lad, how's he faring with the whole thing?"

"He won't say it, but I can tell he's nervous, I know cause I looked the same way after agreeing to Hoster Tully to marry, Cat'. I've caught him in the Godswood quite oft the last few days, overheard him praying before the heart tree at one point, the boy fears the Frey girl will be some hideous thing," commented Eddard, he brought a hand to his brother's back and guided him down the hallway to an oak door that would lead them out.

Benjen gave an amused snort as he pulled the door open, leading them out onto the walkways overlooking Winterfell's courtyard. "Robb's got good reason to fret, the Frey's don't carry a reputation for handsome looks last I heard. If I were the lad I'd have strapped a saddle on the first horse I came upon and rode as far away from the Twins as I could."

Stepping up to the banister, Eddard shook his head, amused. "Is that why you took the black as soon as I came back with word the King had arranged for his betrothal, didn't care to stick around to see who he'd have arranged for you?"

"I'd be lying if it didn't help make taking the black a decision easier than it was," answered Benjen lightly, he turned from the practice yard below to fix Eddard with a set of hard, serious eyes. "Has Jon spoken to you about the Watch yet?"

He shook his head. "The Watch? He's not said a word to me."

"Mayhaps it's not my place to say, but he's been sending me ravens, from what I gather, he seems intent on taking the oath," divulged Benjen.

"Intent?" Asked Eddard, he knew Jon had expressed an interest in the Night's Watch, but he never presumed the boy to have ever joined.

Sighing, Benjen directed a hand down to Jon as the dark haired teen ducked a wide thrown swing by Robb. "Don't be a fool, Ned, look at him. What's here for him? A half-brother who'll be starting a family soon of his own, there'll not be much time for sparring with Jon after that, and in turn, Jon will do what, practice his needlework with Sansa and Arya? Play with Bran and Rickon? The lad needs a purpose in his life, he needs direction. He can't be the bastard of Winterfell his whole life."

Eddard's grip tightened along the banister railing, his knuckles turning white. His eyes tracing Jon's every movement as he clashed his dull blade against Robb's. "So you support this?"

"I support Jon, he's a bit young for a Night's Watchmen, I admit, but the lads of Stark stock, that's worth at least five or six criminals in black at the Wall," replied Benjen surely. "I'd give him the wedding and the tourney to see what life outside these walls is like, and if he's just as sure about joining the Watch after that, he can ride with me back to Castle Black."

"Gods Ben, he's ten-and-five" grumbled Eddard, he couldn't help but think a life for Jon cloaked in black and hunting Wildling's wasn't what Lyanna had had in mind for him, but neither could he deny there were opportunities for Jon at the Wall, hell, the boy could even rise to be a Commander of a keep or the Lord Commander himself even given time.

"Nearly ten-and-six," poìnted out Benjen.

"Ten-and-six," repeated Eddard, age was but a number, for when he closed his eyes, he could vividly remember carrying the boy down the outer steps of the Dornish tower, his wails as he laid in a puddle of blood next to Lyanna. "If he does decide to go, tell me you'll keep an eye on him?"

"I'll keep two eyes on him, I'll teach the lad all I know, he won't be going in there like some fresh recruit, you can count on that, Ned," vowed Benjen, he clapped his brother's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Tell me, and be honest about it, do you ever regret it?" Asked Eddard suddenly, looking to Benjen. "Taking the black?"

Benjen's lip thinned in thought. "There's been times I've thought of different paths that I may have taken. But I remember the day I took the oath, I respect those words. Till the day I die, I shall be the shield that guards the realm."

"What of Jon, will he feel the same?" He inquired, almost unsure if whether or not to permit the boy taking the black, it surely wasn't what Lyanna would have wanted for him, would she?.

"He's your son, he's a Stark by blood," returned Benjen. "Jon will be hated when he arrives, just as I was when the lowborn tested me in the training yard for the first time... But he'll survive it, be stronger for it even, he'll not get an opportunity elsewhere like he will at the Wall, it doesn't matter if you're a bastard or the King himself, every mans equal there, each one earning his position off merit."

He nodded, trusting his brother's opinion. Grudgingly having to admit to himself that Jon becoming a Night's Watchmen might be the best possible course for him, he had raised Jon as his own, taking every precaution to keep him safe as Lyanna made him promise, though sometimes he wondered if he'd taken that promise to far, the boy could be the next King was he not the bastard byproduct of the current King's insatiable desire for his sister all those years ago. Could he truly allow Lya's son to take the black? "I don't know, Ben'. I'll need to think on it."

Benjen eyed him in a peculiar fashion the elder Stark was unprepared for. "Think on it? How are you even hesitant in allowing, Jon, to join? You know it the best option out there for him."

"I'm not against it," professed Eddard adamantly. "I just want what's best for him is all, he deserves better than what I've been capable of giving him."

Sighing aloud, Benjen knew his brother spoke of his good-sister's inability to accept the bastard. "What're you blabbering on about, you've done right by him throughout the years, there's no questioning that, anyone who'd doubt it is a damned fool."

With a stern nod, Eddard looked out to the training yard as Jon butted Robb in the gutt with the square pommel of his practice sword. His heir falling backwards to the training yard ground with a groan, hand clutching his stomach.

"I'll speak to him about it at the Twins, if he seems ready for it, he'll have my permission," he said, at long last, eyes fixated on Jon as he helped Robb back to his feet, the lad of copper hair nursing his head.

Benjen felt at ease, going to join his brother along the bannister. Watching as Jon and Robb jabbed at each other playfully before Rodrik stepped in, separating the two, chastising them both with a strict tone of voice. "So, when is it we make for the Twins?"

"Preparations have already been made, we'll leave by the morrow if all goes accordingly," he answered, drawing away from the walkway's railing. "Will you stay for the Tourney as well, or will you have to return to the Wall after the wedding?"

Benjen looked at him with downcast eyes. "I've the time to spare for it, though I can't honestly say I'm all too thrilled to be at a tourney with Rhaegar Targaryen, given the last one."

Eddard nodded knowingly, the events at Harrenhal still fresh in his mind as if it were just yesterday. "If the Old Gods be good, we may just get through this without a war having started."

Neither said anything after that, both lost in the solemn thoughts of their minds that speaking of the past provoked. For Eddard though, there was more at stake here than who the possible tourney champion would crown as Queen of Love and Beauty. Jon would be attending. It would be the first time both Jon and Rhaegar would have seen one another in nine years, and while Jon had been but a shrub the last time the King had seen him, Jon stood a near man now, and though most couldn't see it in the boy's face, Eddard knowing what he knew, could see the King's visage reflected in Jon's, the similar nose, the cheekbones. If you knew what to look for, you could certainly find it. He only prayed Rhaegar didn't.