94Disclaimer: I do not own BtVS or A Song of Ice and Fire.
Alternatives II
"Talking"
"Thinking"
Jon was nervous.
No, Jon was scared. The thing was, he shouldn't have any reason to be.
He had been in this new world for almost a year now. While it was strange at first (and some parts were still strange), Jon felt he had adapted rather well. Fighting alongside Angel and Charles against the monsters in the dark gave him a purpose and comrades. And staying in contact with the Council allowed them to know what their allies were doing.
More than that, it gave him a sense of family again. He knew well that the Starks in this world weren't the family he had as a child. The names were different, as were the relationships in the family. But their characters were so similar, he could be forgiven for thinking that Ariana and Samantha were the little sisters he had known all his life.
And Lilianna…
That was strange, for both of them. Jon knew she wasn't his mother, and she knew he wasn't her son. Yet the time they spent together, there were moments where it felt like they were. The fact she and her nieces were the Council's official liaison with Angel Investigation allowed them to have that time. They grew close. Close enough that Lilianna felt bold enough to offer him an invitation to the Starks' home for Christmas.
Where he would meet the rest of them.
Both Angel and Charles convinced him to accept the offer. It was a chance to relax and enjoy the Christmas season (Jon was still trying to understand the concept of celebrating winter). In the end, he did accept.
So the two Slayers and one Watcher took him up north, just outside of York. The estate had been impressive when he got out of the car, but it was no castle. It might have the same name, but this wasn't the Winterfell he had known.
Now, he was waiting in a hallway while Lilianna talked to her parents. She wanted to introduce him to them. And he was still scared.
His hand started to reach for Longclaw, but it wasn't there. It had been taken by the steward ("Butler," he reminded himself) when they entered the front hall, along with his dragonglass dagger. Ghost had taken to the woods outside the estate, exploring. For the moment, Jon was alone.
He tried to be calm, to think about this through. He had met with lords in their own homes before, had talked with them. This was no different. But it was. This was Lord and Lady Stark. If things had been different, they would've been his grandparents.
"If things were different, I would've been named Targaryen," he thought for a moment. That thought was quickly squashed. It wouldn't do anything. He had learned that already, a long time ago.
The door opened and Lilianna poked her head out. "Jon, you can come in now."
He stood up, took a breath, and walked in. And immediately came to a stop.
It wasn't just the Lord and Lady Stark.
It was all of them.
"Mum, Dad, everyone," Lilianna said, placing a protective hand on his shoulder. "This is Jon."
No one said anything. They were too busy staring at each other. Jon had seen Lord Rickard's visage in Winterfell's crypts, same as Brandon's. But seeing them in the flesh gave them so much more meaning. The elder man wore his age with dignity, yet he watched the newcomer intently. His wife was just as stoic, but her eyes had a curious tint to them.
Jon focused on them because it was safe. If his eyes wandered, he would see faces he had known to be dead. He came forward, walking the length of the room, until he stood before Lord Stark. Training and courtesies kicked in and he knelt. "Lord Stark," he said, bowing his head.
He stayed in that spot, even as silence held the room. It was a broken by a little snigger, something that came from a child. Jon knew who it was, had heard the snigger before. But he didn't look at the child. He wasn't prepared to see his little brother alive again.
"Boy." He raised his head and looked at Lord Stark. For a moment, the man's stoicism held true. Then it slipped away with a warm smile and kind eyes. "In this house, and to you, I am Grandfather first."
And that was all that needed to be said.
They had a family dinner that night. It was different from what Jon was used to. He would've compared it to a feast in Winterfell, except it was only the family and he sat with them. Being the eldest, or at least close to being so, he sat close to Lord Stark and the children sat on his left.
The adults sat opposite him, giving him a chance to see them. Jon still didn't feel ready to see them, but there was no choice. Brendan Stark was the easiest to face, since Jon didn't truly know him. He sat tall and had the full Stark features, complete with dark hair pulled back in a tail. His wife sat by his side. Unlike her husband, Katherine Stark's red hair fell freely. There was a politeness to her smile that he knew was for strangers. Made sense, since she didn't know him. But there was no disdain in her blue eyes. Still, it was a little difficult to look directly at her.
The next Stark, Jon had longed to see since he learned about them. Edward Stark kept his hair short and was clean-shaven, unlike Lord Eddard. But despite the differences, it was still the man who raised him, who had been his father. His wife sat next to him. Jon had heard that Ashara Dayne had been a great beauty of the realm. Ashleigh Stark was certainly beautiful, with her dark hair framing her face and a warmth in her dark eyes.
Lilianna had the next seat, but the last one was empty. "Are we missing someone?" Jon dared to ask.
"My youngest son is currently on deployment in the army," Lord Richard told his new grandson.
That sounded familiar enough for him. "Would his name be Benjen?"
"Benjamin," Lady Lenore Stark told him. She sat opposite of her husband, so that they might look each other in the eyes.
He smiled. Yes, that would make sense. "And is he a ranger?"
"I don't believe that his official designation, but it's close enough." She eyed Jon. "Is that familiar to you?"
"Aye. Benjen Stark was First Ranger in the Night's Watch, a position of high honor."
It was interesting to hear, but Brendan noticed the words. "Was?" he repeated, getting the other's attention. "Did something happen to him?"
"…He died." His eyes fell to his plate. The memory still hurt, after all this time.
While Brendan was silent, his wife was not. "Can you tell us about your world?" Katherine asked her new nephew (that was still strange). "Or is there some cosmic law that prevents details?" She meant it as a little joke. The humor faded away as Jon stared at her.
The silence started to feel awkward, so Ariana decided to break it. "I don't think there's a law about it, Aunt Katherine," she said. "Jon just doesn't talk about it. Trust me, we've tried."
Her older brother glanced her way with a smirk. "And how did that work out?"
"…Shut up, Tom," she muttered. He just laughed. Jon knew that laugh well. The man sitting next to him might not have the red hair or blue eyes of the Tullys, but Thomas Stark was definitely this world's Robb.
And they wanted to know more about him. Jon wasn't aware of any cosmic law preventing him from speaking. If they wanted to know, he could tell them. "The Winterfell I grew up in wasn't an estate, but a castle," he said. "Lord Eddard ruled well and my childhood was happy enough, for someone like me."
"What does that mean?" Lady Ashleigh asked.
"I'm a bastard."
Her eyes widened while her lips made this little gasp. "That's a horrible thing to say!"
Jon sighed. That had been plenty of peoples' reaction. "It's what I am. For most of my life, as far as anyone knew, I was Eddard Stark's bastard. He didn't talk about who my mother was."
With all those eyes on him, he was glad when the food finally arrived. While he was ready to eat, someone else groaned. "Why couldn't we just have ordered pizza?"
Lady Stark fixed her youngest grandson with a look. "Richard Stark, you have been told your table manners."
"Oh c'mon, Grams!" He gestured at the meal, a simple cut of pork with vegetables with a light vinaigrette sprinkled over. "This is way over…" He trailed off when he noticed how his new cousin was staring at him. It wasn't his father's stare whenever he was mad or even his grandfather's stare when he was really annoyed.
No, this stare was worse. It was a stare that knew what he was doing and wasn't having any of it. "The estate's servants worked hard to provide the food in front of you." Jon's voice was quiet yet filled with a hard undertone. "You would mock their efforts?"
"No!" he quickly protested. "It's just…"
"Just what?"
His eyes fell to the table, to the food placed in front of him. If he raised his head, he just knew everyone would be looking at him. "…If we're supposed to get to know you, then pizza's the best way to do it," he said. "Pizza's great like that."
"He's not wrong," Ariana remarked. Now she was the one getting the looks. "Hey, it's happened with me and the others."
"Do we not owe it to Jon to show him the best of Winterfell's hospitality?" asked her grandfather.
"We're not saying that," she protested. She looked over at Samantha for help. Her cousin didn't know what to say either.
Jon did. "Pizza or a meal, all that matters is that we are here," he said. "Talking and getting to know each other." Edward and Brendan nodded in acknowledgement, same as Lilianna. He turned his eyes back to Richard.
This time, he knew what those eyes wanted from him. He looked over to the butler. "Sorry, Smith," he apologized. "I didn't mean it like that."
"As you say, Master Rich." And that was the end of it.
The meal was quite nice for Jon. The meat had a tender flavor to it while the greens complimented it. He appreciated the second part. In winter, vegetables and fruits could very well run out. His cup had water, at his request. The wines, meads, beer, and other alcohol were much more than he had known.
No one had asked anything while they ate. When they were done, Jon took the chance to. "Tell me, Thomas," he said, "what do you do?"
"I'm still a student," Thomas answered. "I'm working towards a degree in Engineering."
From what little he understood, a degree was akin to a link in a maester's chain. Impressive. "What else?"
The question stopped Thomas and made him look at him again. "What do you mean, what else? An Engineering degree is enough."
"Your pardon," Jon said, realizing he had mis-stepped. "In Westeros, men who wish to become a maester, a man of learning, would forge a chain. Each link in the chain would represent an area of knowledge he had mastered."
It was fascinating, not just for Thomas. "So each maester would be knowledgeable in a verity of areas?" Lady Katherine asked.
He glanced her way. "Aye," he answered.
"Sounds intriguing."
"Not as much as you might think," Lady Ashleigh said. "Think about it, Katheirne. That many subjects they had to know? They're bound to forget something and that something could be vital. These maesters sound like jack-of-all-trades to me." The other Stark wife considered her opinion and started nodding along.
"Forgive me, Lady Ashleigh," said Jon. "But I don't know that phrase. What does jack-of-all-trades mean?"
"Basically, it means they know something about a lot of things, but not everything about one thing. Could be dangerous."
"And Jon," said Edward. "There's no need to be so formal. You don't have to call her Lady Ashleigh."
He froze in that moment. He knew that he could. It would be so easy just to say it. But one fact kept him from doing.
Starks they may be, but they weren't the Starks he knew.
"That could change," a tiny voice whispered. "All you have to do is make it."
"Forgive me, my lord," he told Edward. "I simply remembered my courtesies."
Brendan laughed. "Sounds like your counterpart raised a fine man, Ed," he said.
"That he did," his brother agreed. "But I do wonder why he claimed you as his…illegitimate child," he said to Jon. It was a different word, but it meant the same thing.
"He wanted to protect me from the king. If Robert Baratheon had learned who I was, Lord Eddard feared he would order my death." Now that he knew why Lord Eddard had hidden him away, there were moments he wondered what would've happened if the king had found out who he was.
The children were wondering about one part of his answer. The adults were focused on other. "Robert Baratheon," Lilianna repeated. She shared a look with her brother. "You don't think…?"
"Robert Barthon?" Edward replied. "It's a possibility."
"Well, in that case, I understand why Jon was hidden." Brendan started laughing again which made her scowl. "It's not funny, Brendan."
"It's a little bit funny."
Their parents agreed. "I distinctly remember how you both railed about how much of an arse and/or idiot Robert Barthon was during your school years," Lord Richard remarked.
"One of the rare things you agreed on in those days," Lady Lenore said.
The children started rolling their eyes. This was something they had all heard before. Jon, on the other hand, stared at Edward Stark. "You…hated the Robert Baratheon here?" he asked.
"Once, a long time ago," said the older man. "I hadn't thought of him in a long while. I guess it was the same for your world."
He shook his head. "You were the best of friends. Considered brothers." The entire table fell silent at that. Except for Brendan, who had to hold onto said table so he wouldn't fall out of his chair laughing.
The dinner went well. While there were questions about Westeros, the Starks mostly had questions for him. There were no questions about Angel Investigations. Those would be for a later time, in a more private setting. Young Richard "Call me Ricky" Stark wanted to know what kind of pizza he liked ("For when we finally order it," he explained), Thomas wanted to know how he felt about London, being a man from a medieval time in a modern city, while Samantha was interested in what he was reading, and Ariana wanted to know if he had gotten used to movies yet.
He answered as best as he could (he liked cheese pizza, London was still an impressive sight, he was reading Shakespeare and he had questions about how drunk the man was, and it depended on the movie) until they were all tired. Then Jon was escorted to his room. It was a guest room, which he had expected. Still, it was more spacious than anything he had before, and the bed felt soft.
The next morning, he awoke with the sun. An old habit that was still a good one. Taking Longclaw in hand, Jon searched for a place to train. Lilianna did mention something about a gym in the estate but not where it was. He would have to go find it. As he walked through the halls, he came across a door leading to the estate grounds, and the forest. Ghost was still out there. He had found something, but what, Jon didn't know.
Footsteps echoed off to the side. It was Katherine Stark. "Good morning, Jon," she said with a kind smile.
He acknowledged her with a nod. "Lady Katherine."
He did it again, Katherine noticed. He was polite but said no more to her, as if he would be dismissed from her sight soon. He had done that plenty of times during last night's dinner. Always with her. It left her with a bad feeling, as if she had done something to him. But it couldn't be her. They hadn't met until yesterday, after Lilianna told them the tale.
So, it could only mean one thing. "Jon, may I ask you something?" He glanced back at her again. "My counterpart, Catelyn Tully?" His nod was short. "What did she do to you?"
"…Nothing," he said. "She allowed me to live in Winterfell and to take lessons alongside her children. But she made it clear that I was not her son."
Horror filled her heart. She remembered reading about medieval history and knew acknowledged bastards were likely to have a hard life. But hearing it from someone who had lived that life, it wasn't right. "Did…did she hurt you?"
He shook his head. "She never laid a hand on me. Some might say she went further than any noble lady would permit by allowing me to live in my father's castle."
"But she never showed you any love, any affection? That's not right, Jon! You were a child." She wanted to reach out, take his hand. But she didn't know how he would react. Would he yank it away?
For a moment, he said nothing. A memory came to mind, something he had almost forgotten. "When I was a child, I had the pox. If I survived the night, I would live. All I can remember is moments where I was tired but couldn't sleep, the pain shaking through my body. I wanted to breathe but it felt like I couldn't. It was a long night, a very long night. But when the morning came, and I felt a little better, Lady Stark was there, sitting by my bed. And I knew she had been there through the night. She didn't have to, but she did. It was a small kindness on her part." He remembered seeing her there, watching him. He wanted to call her mother but was afraid she would leave if he did.
He might've felt it a kindness, but Katherine it was too little a part. Her counterpart should've done more. "Jon, I promise you: I'm not her. I'm Katherine, not Catelyn. And you're my nephew." She didn't care if he had come from another world. He was still family. "You will never have to be weary of me."
"…Thank you, Lady Katherine."
She huffed in exasperation. "Call me Aunt Katherine, Jon. Please." His smile was a small thing, yet it changed his whole expression.
He felt Ghost touch upon his mind. He was getting close, and he wasn't alone. Jon's surprise was quickly replaced by a smile. "Aunt Katherine, could you have the children meet me in the front hall?"
She was happy that he called her aunt, but also curious. "Why?"
"I have a gift for them after all."
Ariana grumbled as she rubbed the grime out of her eyes. It was barely past dawn, and she could sleep in at Winterfell. The only good thing about this was she wasn't the only one. Her brother and cousins were equally annoyed at being awoken and asked to come to the front hall. Her new cousin was there, already dressed for the day. "Jon, it's seven in the morning," she told him with a yawn. "This couldn't have wait until later."
"No," he said with a smile. "I know Christmas is a few days away still, but this came as a surprise." He opened the door and let Ghost pad in.
She known that direwolf for months now and still the sight of him amazed Ariana. No wolf she knew could reach that height or fur that white. His red eyes were intelligent. The second he saw them he knew who they were. But as amazing as Ghost was, what followed him in left her stunned.
"Puppies!" Richie exclaimed.
He was right, of course. Four puppies all but bounced inside after Ghost. "He found them while he was exploring the forest," Jon explained. "They were hiding underneath a log, and he kept them warm through the night."
Lord Richard peered at the puppies more closely. "Those aren't dogs," he declared. "They're wolves."
"Direwolves," Jon corrected him.
"Impossible," Lady Lenore protested. "The direwolf has been extinct on Earth since the last Ice Age."
Brendan frowned in thought. "Wait, wasn't there a research lab in York that was attempting cloning of fossilized DNA?" He could've sworn he read that in the paper a few days ago. "Maybe they were successful?"
"If that's the case, then the puppies escape the lab," Edward said. "They would want them back."
Lilianna looked at her nieces and nephews. "I don't think that's going to happen, Ed." Her brothers looked and saw the same thing she did.
Richie was already on his knees, playing with the black-furred puppy. The other three had wandered over to the others. The other male puppy sat at Thomas's feet, looking up at him with expectant eyes. One of the females kept sniffing Ariana's feet while the other already started snoozing away in Samantha's arms.
The sight was right to Jon. "Your children were meant to have them," he told the Starks. "And Ghost would know his own siblings, even if they are from a different world."
His words grabbed Lilianna's attention. "You mean…?"
He nodded. "We found six pups with their dead mother. Six pups for six Stark children."
Richie picked up his puppy and went over to his father. "Can I keep him, Dad? Please," he begged. "I promise I'll take care him. I'll walk him, I'll feed him, I'll do everything." His sister joined him with the same pleading eyes.
Brendan looked over at his brother. He was dealing with the same thing with his own children. And really, there was only one answer they could give. "Very well," he said. "But I'll hold you to that promise, Richie."
"You all will," Lord Richard said to his grandchildren, using his lordly voice. "They may be puppies now, but they will grow and could match Ghost. You are responsible for training them and ensuring they do not attack everyone who comes to close. Do you understand, grandchildren?"
"Yes, grandfather," they answered as one.
"Good." His stoic expression softened, and he gave them a kind smile. "Now, why don't you take the puppies to the kitchen? They must be hungry."
Jon stayed behind while the children quickly left, followed by their parents. Lilianna glanced back at him. "Is everything alright, Jon?" she asked.
"Aye," he answered. "Just mulling something over." If the puppies did run away from this lab, how did they get out? How did they know to come this way, where Ghost could find them? Or was it all luck?
He didn't believe that, not yet. There had been six pups for him. Counting Ghost, that meant there were five here. So where was the sixth? "Ghost," he said, "was there another pup? Did you find Summer's counterpart?"
The direwolf stared up at him. There had only been four underneath that log. No other. Yet, when he guided the pups back, there had been a presence watching. Ghost didn't look, didn't question. He knew that it was his silver-grey brother's shadow.
Even though he knew he wouldn't see it, Jon looked out to the forest. "Are you watching me, Bran?" he wondered.
It was a question he couldn't answer. And right now, it didn't matter. He and Ghost headed to the kitchen, to the family.
End
Author's note: Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.
At some point I'll have a chapter about Jon working a case with Angel but right now, what keeps my focus is having him interact with the modern world and meeting people he recognizes but are different. That's what prompted this chapter.
Having the Starks live in London would've been too easy. The U.K. has enough space that not everyone lives in London. It's like people expecting Americans to only live in New York, L.A., or D.C. Besides, Mr. Martin has said the Starks were based off of the House of York. Why not have them live in York? It certainly helps with the accent.
Jon's belief about Shakespeare is something I share. If you've ever tried reading a Shakespeare play, you'll start wondering what the man was drinking. Then you hear it spoken and it starts making better sense. Shakespeare is better off seen preformed rather than read.
I've sometimes wondered what was Jon's version of his night with the pox. When Catelyn talks about that night, the regret and sorrow comes through spectacularly. She knows she made a mistake and wants to change, but she just can't. I believe that Jon would've been glad that she sat with him through the night but was afraid if he said anything, she would've left. So he never said anything, either during or afterwards. It was a good memory of her he could keep for himself.
Alright, this batch is done. Might be a couple of months before the next. Kinda depends on when my editing work is done. Oh, and to that one reviewer who keeps throwing story suggestions at me, I've made my stance on that clear: You got the idea, you write the story.
I'll see you all next chapter!