"You have anything to add, Jon?" Ned asked as he turned his head toward him.
Jon wanted to scoff. He wanted to ask, in what justice system is the victim asked to speak only after the judgnt and punishnt have already been announced? But he did not say those words. Still, he had to say one thing.
"Only one thing, my lord," Jon said as he stood up. Despite his small fra, his voice bood in the hall. It was laced with steel and chill, if anyone had paid close attention, they would have caught the subtle confidence radiating from him.
Jon's eyes remained fixed on Ned Stark.
"I do not know who my mother was," he said, and the temperature in the hall seed to drop even further. "Maybe I will never know."
It was clearly a taunt, an indirect ssage aid at Ned Stark. And every person who understood wore an expression of shock.
Jon's eyes left Ned Stark and moved toward Theon.
"But next ti, if this product of the Iron Islands dares say a word against my mother," Jon's voice thundered, "I will stuff that sa iron into his body."
"What do those uncivilized islanders say?" Jon continued. "The iron price."
"You…" Theon was enraged, but he held himself back. His fists were clenched in anger, but he could not make a move against Jon now.
Ned had no idea how to react. He had never expected Jon to suddenly develop such a sharp tongue. But those eyes, those eyes told Ned that Jon was not rely mouthing threats. He would, in all probability, do exactly what he said.
Before any words could leave Ned's mouth, Jon turned and walked back to his stool. He had wanted to march out of the great hall, but that would have been considered a direct insult to Ned Stark.
Eventually, Ned took control of the gathering once more.
"Theon," he said, "ti for you to full fill your first punishnt."
Theon clenched his fists in anger. Apologizing to Jon Snow, the bastard, was sothing beneath his status. But he knew he was rely a hostage here. He had no other option.
"I apologize for my actions, Jon," he said. His voice barely escaped his lips, yet it was heard clearly in the silence of the hall.
Jon did not respond. Ned wanted to ask him to acknowledge the apology, perhaps even ask both of them to shake hands and cast aside all the bitterness. But that was not possible.
A sense of hatred had ford between the two, and a forced apology was not going to fix things magically. He could only hope for things to improve in future.
295 AC
Winterfell
Five years had passed since that incident and Jon had turned sixteen.
He was in the training yard, swinging a blunt sword.
"Jon," Ser Rodrik's voice echoed across the yard, "as usual, the first to arrive at the training yard."
"Aye, ser," Jon responded. Neither too cold nor too warm. This was his standard behaviour.
In these five years, many things had happened to Jon, particularly regarding the gifts he had received. He had discovered that he shared a special connection with the sun, specifically, the rising sun. No, he had not mastered Sun Breathing or anything of the sort.
But the rising sun gave him a sense of comfort, and perhaps even strengthened his body. Maybe it had sothing to do with Yoriichi's physique, he was not sure.
He had discovered this phenonon when he began waking early in the mornings to train on his own. He would run around the castle to develop his agility and lift weights to build muscle. Though such exercises were uncommon in this world, they were not as strange as one might expect.
And since then, he had hardly missed any of the sunrises.
Yet, no one seed to recognize their usefulness. Why? Because despite all the extra hours Jon had poured into his training, he had never once defeated Robb, or even Theon. Though, in fairness, he had sparred with Theon far less often. He lived as diocre a life as he could.
To most, it would appear as if Jon was grinding his life away trying to surpass Robb and Theon, but the lowborn simply lacked the talent to do so. If only they knew the truth.
Jon continued his morning training, and by the ti more soldiers, along with Robb and Theon arrived, he was finished with his training.
He returned to his small room, cleaned himself up, and got dressed. Today was going to be his last day in Winterfell.
Jon sat cross-legged on his bed, his mind wandering. Over the years, he had mastered one of the powers inherited through the Stark bloodline—Skinchanging.
He could now easily transfer his mind into the body of an animal and control it.
But his ability was not omnipotent. He could only control animals or birds that were within close proximity.
Moreover, once he ejected his mind from the animal or bird, the creature would regain its freedom. However, controlling it again beca easier each ti. By repeating this process, he could gradually bend their will to follow his commands permanently.
Even so, it was not as if an animal or a bird would suddenly gain intelligence and start acting as a proper spy. At best, he could command it to fly in a certain direction and then use its body to see and hear specific things.
Without his mind inside their bodies, the bird or animal could only act with the limited intelligence that was natural to them.
He also possessed the fire immunity of a Targaryen. Fire or flas did not burn him.
In addition to that, he had attempted to awaken the power of Greenseeing, but so far, he had not been successful.
It felt as though sothing was holding him back. He had tried every trick he could think of, including attempting it near the Weirwood tree, but nothing had worked. Jon had no idea how to activate the ability. He would likely need to find soone who could train him—soone beyond the Wall, perhaps, or maybe soone from the Reed family.
But that was not his priority right now. Today, he was heading in a different direction.
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