38 The Life of Jon Snow pt1

TW: Mentions of slavery, sexual slavery, pedophilia

Dragonstone, AOT World

It is to a tense room that Jennifer arrives in. The Chamber of the Painted Table, Aemon called it when giving them a tour around three months ago; a round room on the top floor of the Stone Drum in Dragonstone with four tall windows, overlooking the north, south, east and west. In the center of the room is the Painted Table, a table carved in the shape of Westeros, engraved with its major cities, castles, and landmarks. Unlike when Jennifer first saw the Painted Table, it is currently lit by candles underneath it, illuminating the map and creating a captivating sight.

Standing around the Painted Table, and ignoring the chairs, are her fellow chat group members with Aemon standing at the head of the table where the North is situated, while Anakin stands at the opposite end with Simon and Doctor Hamilton standing at various points in the middle. Although Doctor Hamilton seems fascinated by the table to the point of studying it, Simon constantly fidgets about while staring between Aemon and Anakin who glare at one another.

As Jennifer makes her way towards Doctor Hamilton, a beautiful woman in a flowing black dress gracefully enters the room, seemingly gliding over the floor. In her hands are two trays with cups and casks of what she assumes to be alcohol.

"The finest rum from your brother's personal stash my Lord, as ordered." says the woman as she places the trays on the table.

Receiving a nod from Aemon, the woman bows before retreating from the room.

"Sit, and take a cup and cask each. My tale is not a light one and a strong drink will help cope with that. It will at the very least help me drown the negative emotions that habitually come with recollecting these events." Aemon says as he sits while muttering the last sentence.

His voice may have been soft, but Jennifer heard him all the same and she knows that the others too, save perhaps Doctor Hamilton, heard him clearly.

Seeing them seated, Aemon pours them all a cup and looks towards Anakin with a raised eyebrow. In response the Jedi glares at Aemon before using the Force to distribute the cups.

"The casks also." Aemon says, receiving another glare even while Anakin delivers a cask to each of them.

"Blackbelly rum, not the finest drink but appropriate all things considered." Aemon says as he drinks the entire cup in one go with no reaction.

Despite the impressiveness of the act, there is a melancholy tinge to it that taints it stopping Jennifer from appreciating the action. She has never seen Aemon this subdued and morose before. Quiet, yes. Calm, yes. Even anger she has seen, but never sullenness. It makes her wonder how bad he had it.

"As you may know, my name is Aemon. Whether it is Aemon Stark or Targaryen honestly depends on the occasion or my mood." Aemon begins before pouring himself another drink.

"What you may not know is that I was not named Aemon upon my birth. In fact I do not even know whether I was named upon my birth by my mother for she died on the birthing bed. Surrounded by death, war, and blood in a foreign land of sand and heat as opposed to her home of snow and cold. My uncle, Eddard Stark, found her in that tower covered in sweat and blood, clutching me in fear for me; for you see not six moons ago my brother and sister, Aegon and Rhaenys, were ripped from their own mother's arms and slain by the very same forces claiming to be allied to my uncle." Aemon says, his voice filled with rage and bitterness before he downs another cup.

"Despite being quite happy to see him, my mother refused to give him to me until he swore on his honor to protect me from the same fate that befell Aegon and Rhaenys, at least that is how my uncle told it. After receiving his oath, my mother promptly passed away and my uncle thus named me Jon Snow in honor of his foster father, Jon Arryn. From then he passed me off as his bastard son and it was not until much later in life did I know otherwise." Aemon explains, spitting out the name Jon Arryn as if it were a foul poison.

"This isn't going to work." Aemon mutters to himself while emptying his cup for the third time, causing Jennifer and the others to look at each other with confused expressions on their faces.

Before they can ask him what the problem is, the woman in the black dress enters the room again. This time she carries a single pitcher with four different casks.

"I did not think that the mundane rum would serve you well, so I managed to procure alcohol from one of the Fey." the woman says as she places the casks in front of Aemon.

"Evelynn my dear, you are the gift that keeps on giving." Aemon says with a smile, his first one since the beginning of their gathering.

"It is a pleasure." she answers with a bow before leaving.

"Now, where was I?" Aemon asks as he pours himself a drink.

"Your name." Anakin replies through gritted teeth. "What does your name have to do with any of this?" he asks, and Aemon does not seem to appreciate it for his eyes narrow dangerously at Anakin.

"Everything you fool." Aemon snarls. "Is that not why we are here? Because you do not trust me since you know nothing meaningful about me?" Aemon asks, receiving silence in response.

"It is a long and harrowing tale and perhaps if you listen and listen well you may learn something. Gods willing, you'll finally learn the patience that peacekeepers are meant to have." Aemon says, causing Anakin to abruptly stand in a fit of rage.

"Aemon." Jennifer calls out to him with a frown. "I understand your frustration, but there was no need for that." she scolds before looking at Anakin.

Reluctantly Anakin sits back down.

"As I was saying, names mean everything in Westeros. The smallfolk have no surnames so they are nothing, the lords have surnames so they are everything. And the more prestigious the surname the more powerful the lord. Stark, for example, is the surname of my mother's family. A family so powerful that they ruled as kings for eight thousand years. Can you imagine that? For eight thousand years half of Westeros was ruled by one family. Of course there were the occasional rebels and contestants, but all were unquestioningly defeated." Aemon says with a tint of pride as he showcases the size of The North on the Painted Table.

"Remarkable." says Doctor Hamilton. "If I remember correctly, the longest dynasty on my earth was the Zhou Dynasty which ruled for 790 years."

"So you were a spoiled brat." remarks Anakin, earning a glare from Aemon.

"I don't think so." says Simon, before Aemon can answer. "He says his uncle called him Jon Snow, not Stark."

"Aye, Snow, the surname of a Northern noble's acknowledged bastard.Truthfully the lords and ladies of the North care not about bastards, at least not compared to the southron lords. Thank you Daemon Blackfyre and The Seven." Aemon says as he downs his cup.

"Unfortunately for me, my uncle's wife was as southron as they come. Beautiful, haughty, devout follower of The Seven, paranoid, and more importantly jealous with more emotion than sense. Her one virtue was her love and overprotectiveness of my siblings, her children. And even then that overprotectiveness nearly caused House Stark's downfall. Can you imagine that? A dynasty spanning 8000 years almost ended by a woman's lack of sense and her husband's honor." Aemon says bitterly as he downs another cup.

"But I speak of matters ahead of their time." says Aemon with a shake of his head. "For the first nine years of my life I was raised with an education befitting a Stark of Winterfell, bastard or not. Of course Catelyn Tully did not appreciate that, but what could she do? This was not Riverrun, her family's castle, nor was it the Riverlands, the land ruled by her father. Rather this was Winterfell, ancient castle of House Stark, rulers of The North, and every single Stark of Winterfell is thought to rule lands, command armies, and fight sword and ax; bastard or trueborn." Aemon says with pride.

"Unfortunately, the gods are cruel and are want to laugh in the face of men. We have a saying in Westeros; men plan and the gods laugh. That is what the gods did in the face of my childlike aspirations, laugh. The Old Gods, The New, The Drowned, R'hllor, and every deity worshiped from Westeros to Asshai to Yi Ti to Stygai and every civilization on that planet laughed. For not long after I begun accepting my place as a bastard, sometime around my ninth name day, my uncle decided to take Robb, his firstborn son and who I thought was my blood brother at the time, and I to White Harbor, one of five major cities in Westeros and the only city in The North. A decision I am sure he regretted even as that worm Lannister had him beheaded." Aemon says before taking a drink.

"It was perhaps three years after the Ironborn Rebellion that my uncle decided that it was high time that Robb and I met some of the Northern Lords while seeing the North. As such he took Robb, the traitorous Greyjoy, a hundred guards and I to White Harbor." Aemon says, his voice turning deep and dangerous upon mentioning the Greyjoy.

"Upon arriving at White Harbor, uncle Ned decided to allow Robb, the Greyjoy and I to tour White Harbor on our lonesome as long as the guards accompanied us." Aemon tells them and a sense of foreboding envelops the room.

"The Greyjoy, ever the bad influence and five years our senior, attempted to persuade Robb to give our guards the slip for they would not approve of his idea of fun. And Robb, poor trusting Robb looking up to the Greyjoy, was easily persuaded. Of course my protests were unheard and ignored so I was forced to follow along." Aemon laments with a chug.

"Why did you follow them?" Jennifer feels herself compelled to ask.

"And leave Robb alone with the Greyjoy? I would sooner drown." Aemon spits out.

"Who's the Greyjoy? You keep mentioning him." asks Simon.

"Theon Greyjoy, heir to House Greyjoy, rulers of the Ironborn, and my uncle's hostage to ensure their Lord's good behavior. Theon Greyjoy is a turncloak, a coward, and an imbecile. He has no mind for warfare, nor the mind to rule, and his only competent combat skill is his skill in archery. Of course even in that I eventually surpassed him. Throughout his life the only people who ever appreciated his existence were his elder sister and Robb. And the fool had the audacity to betray the latter while the former died by my hands while attempting to rescue him." Aemon says with a glowing violet eye, and Jennifer swears that temperature in the room rose enough to cause her to sweat.

"Damn dude, you really hate this guy." Simon says uneasily.

"Not hate, disdain. For the man was either a failure in all his ventures or the most mediocre. I named him turncloak, but he could not even do that properly. If he wanted to be a villain the least he could have done is be competent at it or failing that, quietly die to some random soldier's sword and save us all the trouble of his existence. I know for a fact that his sister would have met a better fate had that been the case." Aemon rants before taking another drink.

"Anyway, enough of the turncloak and back to White Harbor."

"As we gave our guards the slip, I was separated from Theon and Robb. Left to wander White Harbor's busy market on my lonesome searching for them or at the very least one of our guards to report back to uncle Ned. Being in the North I should have been safe. Even if the people did not extend me aid, my clothes and the direwolf embroidery on my cloak would have denoted my identity to any would be dangers. Unfortunately for me, slavers care not for one's identity. As long as one is vulnerable to capture and easily smuggled away in secrecy they are willing to risk it. And as a young child of noble birth I was an enticing prize." Aemon says and Jennifer can feel a pit grow in her stomach.

"I did not see my attacker, nor did I put up much of a struggle before darkness claimed me and I awoke chained under their ship sometime later."

"There is not much to say of the trip for I spent much of it in a daze, fearing my coming fate."

"Eventually we landed on Meereen in Slaver's Bay. Built from the ashes of the Old Empire of Ghis, Slaver's Bay was a wealthy hub of the global slave trade. It was occupied by three cities, Yunkai, Astapor, and Meereen."

"Once docked, it did not take long for my captors to amass a crowd, for a child of noble birth and education was a rare commodity; especially a Stark who had a long and storied past of repelling slavers and sea raiders. The man who bought me was Ozak zo Pahl, the richest noble in Meereen, a frequent visitor and sponsor of the fighting, a lover of the arts, and the very first man I swore to kill."

"He was not a particularly cruel enslaver, but slavery is slavery and the very act of owning another man is perverse regardless of how they are treated. Still, despite not being cruel he was a perverse man and saw an opportunity in owning me; for while I was a northman I possessed beautiful features and possessed a gift for combat that bordered on beyond human. He knew that many Meereen noblewomen possessed perverse sexual fantasies and he planned to profit from these fantasies; and profit he did." Aemon says, and Jennifer downs her first cup of the night.

From beside her she can see Doctor Hamilton's complexion pale considerably as he too downs his first cup of the night while Simon can only stare at Aemon with wide eyes and an open mouth. Only Anakin seems to not feel horror, and Jennifer remembers that he too grew in a cesspit of slavery. Stories like these must be more common for him.

"For the next year he had me trained by the best warriors and the best pleasure slaves of Meereen, and on my tenth name day I made my debut to the nobles of Meereen in the fighting pits against a lion. And that night I made my debut to the noblewomen of Meereen."

With a pit in her stomach as wide as the very vacuum of space, Jennifer refills her cup and drains it, allowing the cold drink to wash down her horror. It is only then that Jennifer realizes the temperature in the room goes from scorching hot to freezing.

Next to Doctor Hamilton, Simon violent dry heaves before racing out of the room.

"Perhaps, it would be best to momentarily stop here or stop entirely." Aemon says as he takes another drink.

"No." replies Anakin. "You already know about us, we should know about you."

"Very well, we'll continue when Simon returns." Aemon says as he stands from his seat and makes his way to one of the windows.

 Author's Note: As usual tell me what you guys think, and if you want to you can support my patreon at patreon.com/servantambrosius