2-Namesake

The Kingswood, Crownlands, 286 AC, Three Years Later

To celebrate the heir's Nameday, a royal hunt was called, as was tradition. Lords from across the kingdoms assembled and set out into the Kingswood to hunt the creature many Kings past had tried to find, a White Hart, a mythical stag that had forever reigned over the forest. Setting out from noon to dusk, the royal host turned up fruitless, catching only four boars and two regular buck deer. Upon nightfall, all the Lords feasted, mingled, and discussed as they always did. This was until one guest in particular came forth with a gift, kicking in motion the Prince's gifting ceremony: Tywin Lannister.

Getting a tolerated eye roll from Robert, the only ones who remained truly unfazed by Tywin's presence in the camp were Jon and Ser Barristan Selmy, who at the very least kept his thoughts to himself and not behind hushed whispers. Jon, however, couldn't help but respect the man's stature, which oozed authority. Even evil cunts can have room made for respect once in a while.

"Your Grace," Tywin said, bowing. "I've brought you a gift worthy of your station, that I hope will fare you well in your blooming years." Tywin stood aside with a hand out, beckoning a Lannister soldier to step forward who carried something cloaked beneath leather wrappings.

"If your man would be so kind as to open it for me, my Lord. Small hands make for... problematic dexterity," Jon suggested, raising his hands, getting a distant laugh from Tyrion.

As the item was unwrapped, Jon along with several others' eyes bugged out of their heads. It was a Goldenheart Recurve bow! Majestic were its carvings, characteristic of such weapons. Protecting and accompanying it were a red leather gilded holster and quiver branded with the Baratheon sigil, but otherwise covered in Lannister finery.

"Goldenheart bows are utilized by Summer Islander archers perched atop specially crafted ships known as 'Swan Boats'. In their hands, these weapons are capable of cleanly piercing plate from over one hundred yards. There are no finer archers or bows in the known world, aside from the exceedingly rare Dragonbone of course," Tywin spoke, clearly having been told this little history lesson from someone who actually cared enough to both learn and remember it.

(Picture Of Bow & Quiver)

"That was probably the most I've ever heard him speak..." Jon thought to himself.

"A fine weapon, my Lord. Thank you," Jon said with a bow of fabricated gratitude, though still marveled over such a weapon.

Among the other gifts were many books and cultural items, the most notable being a female gyrfalcon gifted from Jon Arryn, and a Valyrian Steel necklace forged with the sigil of House Baratheon from Stannis, of all people.

(Picture of Falcon & Necklace)

As night came, sleep didn't for Jon. Getting dressed in his small wolf pelt cloak and leather boots, he made his way out of the royal tent, only to be stopped by Barristan himself.

"Your Grace, is something the matter?" Barristan asked as he knelt to one knee while removing his helmet.

"No, nothing, Ser Barristan. I just, for the life of me, can't find sleep," Jon replied.

"Strange. Normally boys your age need all of it they can get. Good for growth," Barristan said.

"So I'm told," Jon replied.

"Have you decided on a name for the falcon Lord Arryn gifted you?" Barristan asked.

"Snow, I think, is fitting," Jon replied.

"Fitting, simple. Most of the greatest names are," Barristan said with a smile.

Right before Jon was about to go sit by the central campfire that had enough wood on it to build a cabin, a blue light in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Looking into the dark woods where it came, he saw it: an ethereal, ghostly apparition of a stag.

(Picture of Stag) 

"Barristan... do you see that?" Jon asked as the Kingsguard turned to face the same woods his Prince was giving attention to.

"What would that be, my Prince? Animals and the like are common around these parts," the knight replied.

"A... never mind. Follow me!" Jon said as he suddenly ran down an alley of tents before Barristan could stop him.

"My Prince, the woods are dangerous at this time of night!" Barristan protested as he quickly followed, grabbing a torch on his way.

"They're always dangerous, my Lord. Let's hope we will not only be back soon enough for others to not take notice, but also that your reputation reigns true!" Jon spoke as he crossed a small stream before continuing.

"I mean no disrespect, Your Grace, but you are well-spoken for a boy of only four," Barristan pointed out.

"Imagine me in ten years' time!" Jon replied.

"You might temper your father further yet," Barristan chuckled to himself.

Long was the trail that the apparition, which only appeared visible to Jon, led them down. Eventually coming upon a small cave entrance, they slowly and cautiously made their way in, much to Barristan's protest. What met them was a sight neither of them thought possible: a varied oasis of bioluminescent fungi and plants, small streams leading off to both far and nowhere. As though all this wasn't enough, a Heart Tree sat at its center, easily larger than the one in the Red Keep's godswood by double.

(Picture of Weirwood)

The apparition Barristan thought to be only a figment of the little Lord's imagination presented itself to even him as it grazed at the tree's base. Slowly approaching them both, Jon looked over to the ghostly being, who in turn returned his gaze, giving off a grand bugle before vanishing completely. Jon took a deep breath before kneeling before one of the natural marvel's protruding roots. Taking a deep breath and placing his hand on it, his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he was met with visions flashing in and out. From ancient men fighting a wall of darkness, to the Doom of Valyria, Aegon's Conquest, Robert's Rebellion, and finally a single man standing against that same darkness.

"From my blood comes The Prince That Was Promised, and his will be the Song of Ice and Fire," a voice called out as Jon focused on one more vision, but one unlike the others. He saw both himself and Barristan through the carved eyes of the tree itself.

Out of fear for his Prince, Barristan took action in wrenching Jon's hand from the root of the tree, allowing the heir to take his first breath in over a minute as he lay in his protector's arms with labored breaths.

"Your Grace, are you injured!?" Barristan asked, panicked.

"I... I'm... I'm fine, Barristan. I'm okay," Jon replied.

Suddenly distracted from all that had just transpired by the disturbance of a few blood-red leaves at the tree's base, Jon stumbled forward, feeling something he never had before, a unique connective feeling akin to magnetism of the soul. Brushing aside the fallen blood-red leaves and pale-white branches, the two were met with an unexpected sight despite all that had transpired: a deer fawn, fur white as the snow and eyes like sapphires, slowly raised its head to look up at the little boy. It was likely no older than a few weeks, with its lack of care for people present likely meaning it had been abandoned for some time, possibly for some perceived weakness from its mother that made it not worth caring for—a more common phenomenon than one might think.

(Picture of Fawn)

"By the gods... it's the White Hart!" Barristan whispered as he took to one knee, appearing smaller as to not frighten it.

"I have a feeling his mother isn't coming back for him," Jon replied, looking around at the cave.

"What makes you say that, Your Grace?" Barristan asked.

"Deer take either one of three actions when it comes to their young. One, they abandon it for some reason; two, they stay close if predators in the area are unavoidable; or three, they purposefully remain at a distance to distract would-be predators. Let's hope for our sake it's the first, for these things can be huge and angry," Jon said as he removed his fur coat, wrapping it around the fawn as he then picked it up, making Barristan immediately realize his intentions.

"My Prince, you cannot bring such a creature with you. It is wild!" Barristan protested.

"The Targaryens tamed dragons, the Starks direwolves, the Northern Giants mammoths, the Greyjoys krakens (unlikely). I hardly see how this equates. Plus, the Hart represents not only House Baratheon but also royalty itself, does it not?" Jon asked.

Barristan took a long moment of consideration before buckling to his Prince's request.

"Very well, I will leave it to your father to decide, but we must return before dawn, my Prince, else suffer his fury," Barristan said, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder as he ushered him out of the cave and forest soon after.

Four Hours Later

"What do you mean you found it in the bloody forest?!" Robert raised his voice.

"I couldn't sleep last night, so I decided to take a walk in the forest. Ser Barristan is not to have any blame, for it was me who commanded him as my sworn protector to accompany me. It was shortly after that when we found the fawn, shivering in the dark, left to die. As the Prince, I took the animal that is not only the sigil of our house but a sign of royalty itself under my care. If you allow me to keep it, I vow to see to all its needs. Now, am I to get rid of it, or will we leave this matter for another day on the account of your mental fog?!" Jon asked without care as he addressed his father, the Demon of the Trident.

"I second his statement, Your Grace," Barristan tried to say, only to get a raised hand in dismissal from Robert.

A blanket of tension suddenly filled the room as both father and son maintained a staring match for an uncomfortable moment. Leaning forward, grabbing his cup, and swigging from it, Robert slammed the cup down on the small feasting table in front of him before bursting into laughter.

"That's my son for you, see how he doesn't give two shits like I do... sips wine ahhh... You can keep the damn thing for now, but don't come crying if it dies," Robert said as he poured himself some more wine.

"Thank you, Father," Jon replied as he took his leave from the tent while holding the fawn in his embrace, feeding it from a waterskin of goat's milk.