Truth Is / Ned Stark

29 Indulge

The man / Khal drogo out now

Houdini/ aemond / laenor out now!

The banquet was loud, it would have been tasteful and elegant until Robert and the lannisters and all their monkeys came making a mess of winterfell and tormenting their staff.

Little Rickon ran in next, managing the long walk with all the dignity a three-year-old could muster. Close behind came Robb, in grey wool trimmed with white, the Stark colors. Lyanna was escorted by the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. Lyanna looked bored and was quick to release his arm and move to Arya's side. Jon noticed much like Gemma and everyone with eyes that the Prince Joffrey had his sister's hair and his mother's deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls. Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall. Much like Cersei looked at winterfell, it must have been in their lannister DNA to be cunts.

"They are awful." Lyanna decided when she got to the front table. Gemma chuckled kissing her forehead.

"Yes, they are, but we will tolerate them." Gemma remarked. "They will leave soon enough."

"Why are they here?" Lyanna whined. "Joffrey is so annoying."

"It's heredity, he gets it from his mother." Gemma added, Ned chuckled, shaking his head as he lifted his glass to his lips.

Ghost went back to his meal. Jon grinned and reached under the table to ruffle the shaggy white fur. The direwolf looked up at him, nipped gently at his hand, then went back to eating.

"Is this one of the direwolves I've heard so much of?" a familiar voice asked close at hand. Jon looked up happily as his uncle Sandor put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair much as Jon had ruffled the wolf's.

"Yes," he answered. "His name is Ghost. I'm really glad you are back uncle Sandor"

"Me too kid." Sandor agreed. "A very quiet wolf," he observed.

"He's not like the others," Jon confirmed. "He never makes a sound. That's why I named him Ghost. That, and because he's white. The others are all dark, grey or black."

"My sister does not seem very festive tonight." Sandor noted sitting beside him and pouring a tall glass of ale.

"The queen is angry too," Jon told his uncle in a low, quiet voice. "Father took the king down to the crypts this afternoon. The queen didn't want him to go and you know mother and Cersei's... dislike for each other."

"My dislike is mutual for those royal pricks." Sandor assured giving jon a measuring look. "You don't miss much, do you, Jon?" Jon shrugged. "You are a good man, your mum writes about you all the time to me. Says how smart you are too."

"Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I'm the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle." Jon added knowing his uncle would like to know of his skills in the courtyard.

"Damn right." Sandor agreed. Ghost whined at their feet.

"I should probably let him out, the doors are shut." Jon realized.

"We will catch up more later." Sandor agreed as jon got up pushing open the door for Ghost, he quickly lifted his leg to relieve himself.

"You're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?" Jon felt a coldness pass right through him. He pressed his lips together and said nothing as he turned his cheek. "Did I offend you?" the little man questioned. "Sorry. Dwarfs don't have to be tactful. Generations of capering fools in motley have won me the right to dress badly and say any damn thing that comes into my head." He grinned. "You are the bastard, though."

"Lord Eddard Stark is my father," Jon admitted stiffly. Tyrion studied his face.

"Yes but lady stark is not your mother," he agreed. "But I can see it. You have more of the north in you than your brothers."

"Half brothers," Jon corrected softly. He was pleased by the dwarf's comment, but he tried not to let it show.

"Let me give you some counsel, bastard," Tyrion requested stepping closer. "Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you." Jon was in no mood for anyone's counsel.

"What do you know about being a bastard?"

"All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes."

"You are your mother's trueborn son of Lannister." Jon recalled.

"Am I?" the dwarf replied, sardonic. "Do tell my lord father. My mother died birthing me, and he's never been sure."

"I don't even know who my mother was," Jon admitted.

"Some woman, no doubt. Most of them are." Tyrion mused "Remember this, boy. All dwarfs may be bastards, yet not all bastards need be dwarfs."

"My mum doesnt treat me like a bastard." Jon corrected. "It may be my title, but lady Stark loves me."

"How good for you." Tyrion drawled heading in.

"It is good for me." Jon agreed softly.

Rickon yawned in Gemma's arms, it was past his bedtime, no doubt about that. Gemma said she was going to bring Rickon to bed and most of the children were glad for the excuse to leave. Theon and Robb requested to stay longer, Ned agreed and saw them sneaking another glass of wine, let the boys have fun, they will suffer a hang over tomorrow, Gemma had told him when she noticed. It will be their punishment if they over indulge.